#my friends i hissed when i saw that shit at the local library

[definitely-not-an-alb]

Sometimes I'm like ... Should I read more German books and translations? And then I remember they translated A Memory Called Empire/A Desolation Called Peace as Im Herzen des Imperiums/Am Abgrund des Krieges.

Lmao I think not.

[howdoyousleep3]

There was only one thing that made sense for me to give to you for your gift of 2K followers to me.

I love you. I would not be here without you.

Daddy Steve and Baby Bucky would not be here without you.

So without further ado...

Rating: T (Teen) Pairing: James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers Wordcount: 6.8K Tags: Meet-Cute, First Meetings, Steve Rogers Feels, POV Steve Rogers, Developing Relationship, Bucky Barnes Feels, POV Bucky Barnes, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Nat is the best Wingman, Clint is also the best Wingman, Mentions of Past and Toxic Relationship, Insecurities, Only Happy Endings Here Summary: How it all began.

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate once the beer is set down in front of him, doesn’t even grimace as he swallows down his first swig of it.

“This is disgusting,” he remarks flatly, going in for another gulp. If he drinks more, he’s sure it won’t be long before he doesn’t care about the taste of the beer in the slightest. Then again, was it even possible for him to get drunk from beer? This local IPA that Nat insisted he get makes him hopeful of just that.

“Mmm, good thing we’re not picky,” Nat responds with, reaching for her own glass and tipping it back. Bucky grimaces, agrees to disagree, and instead dips a fried pickle deep into a cup of ranch.

“You know this might be the best decision you’ve ever had. Why talk about our feelings when we can just…eat them?” Bucky asks rhetorically and with a flick of his fingers towards their tabletop. Lamb meatballs, spinach artichoke dip, truffle fries— treat yourself comfort bar food at its finest.

“Right, but also when we were at home like thirty minutes ago you were crying after having communicated with me very clearly what your feelings were so…”

Bucky smiles, taps a few fingers under Nat’s chin two times before reaching for a few fries.

“It’s the best of both worlds, baby.”

It’s been one hell of a week for the two of them, one thing after the other, encouragements of keeping their head up fading and becoming weaker as the days passed. Nat has spent the majority of her time at work, her asshole boss overworking her, taking advantage of her thinning kindness. Bucky has barely seen her this week, their paths crossing between classes and work, showers and breakfast. And with his schedule and his workload from classes, he spent most of his time at the library preparing for Dr. Banner’s midterm exam.

The two of them finally reconnected, Nat crawling into Bucky’s bed once she got home well into Thursday night, Friday morning. It felt good to let his feelings out, to talk to his best friend, to cuddle close and have his hair played with.

“Just us today. We’re gonna do whatever we want to do today, Buck. Fuck everyone else,” Nat had told him, and he wholeheartedly agreed, mind already light from letting out the stress of the week with a good cry.

“Yeah, fuck ‘em…”

Bucky likes this bar. It’s a bit dingey but somehow charming, the music soothing and low, the warm chatter of other patrons surrounding him. It’s comforting and everything that would come to mind if Nat were to suggest a bar, which she had with an easy, “I know one of the bartenders, c’mon.” Bucky is about to give Nat shit for the way the bartender’s eyes lit up when he saw her, for the way he said her name and the way she replied in kind, when Bucky sees him.

Holy shit.

Bucky has to pull his eyes away almost immediately as soon as they land on the man at the bar. His chest grows warm and it isn’t because of this bitter beer.

“Holy shit,” he repeats out loud, dropping what’s left of his handful of fries into the basket of fried pickles. He wipes his hand on his jeans, adjusts in his seat, chances a glance back up to the man at the bar.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s…n-nothing.”

“Oh my god, did you stutter? Why? What’s—”

“Nat! Don’t look!” he hisses, gives his best attempt to avoid making a scene when Nat turns in search for what it is that Bucky has seen to cause such an immediate reaction. It fails. Nat spots him immediately as well, head slow to move back in Bucky’s directions, eyes wide nonetheless.

“Holy shit.”

Bucky’s cheeks go up in flames. He can feel it where he sits, that throb of color, that wave of sensation. He reaches for his beer, manages to look over it and back at the bar as Nat whistles lowly.

“Buck…”

“I know, I know.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, is that your walking wet dream?”

“I don’t…oh my god.”

He doesn’t even have the space in his mind to protest any further, knows anyone who has ever crossed paths with this man would know Bucky is full of shit if he made an attempt to.

Bucky’s never seen anyone so beautiful before in his life.

This man has a face and physique for a runway, a Vogue catalogue, for in front of a camera. His side profile alone has a ball of arousal dropping into Bucky’s stomach like a stone, a boulder, sharp and rugged. A strong nose, a neatly trimmed beard, a pout Bucky can see from here, effortlessly swept back hair. Even sitting down, Bucky knows this man is a large man, that he takes up space in more way than one, is broad.

Bucky swallows heavily.

Casual yet professional, a dark polo that gorgeously clings to curvature of his arms and the span of his shoulders, jeans that miraculously fit and stretch around thighs so thick they make Bucky’s mouth water. A simple pair of brown boots and to top everything off, what Bucky thinks is a watch. Simply looking at him has Bucky wanting to think up incredibly inappropriate thoughts starring this man and this man alone.

Bucky is inexplicably drawn to him.

“Buck—”

“Nat, don’t,” he mumbles, eyes not leaving the man at the bar as he speaks and sets his beer down. Nat turns around against, chances another glance of her own.

“Bucky, you have to talk to him.”

“What?” Bucky squeaks, leaning forward in his seat to make himself clear. “Are you insane? Not a chance in hell. He...he's probably just looking at you anyway. Maybe he's...maybe he's not into men!”

Natasha grabs for his wrist, the closest part of him she can get a grip on, leans forward to face him head-on.

“You’re going to talk to that man before we leave here tonight.”

“Thanks, Clint,” Steve sighs as the other man brings him another glass of whiskey, not even the good stuff. That rightfully made Clint’s eyebrows raise when Steve requested it, “Well is fine.”; this isn’t the kind of place to drink shitty whiskey. It is almost painfully harsh, no depth, just pure burn, but it’s what Steve wants in this moment.

“Y’alright, Rogers?”

Steve is sure his smile falls flat so he covers it up with another drink, nods his head.

“Yeah, yeah I’m…m’okay.”

Clint doesn’t look convinced but nods his head and blessedly leaves it at that and moves onto the next customer. Steve’s sigh is long and is a relief that racks his body. He fills up his lungs with air, holds it momentarily, breathes out, brings his glass back up to his lips.

“Right, Steve but…you’re not happy. And I’m tired of seeing you try and pretend that you are. You know who you are, you know how important having a loving and doting partner is to you. You need to be consumed. That’s just who you are! I hate seeing you go through these patches where you pretend you’re alright with somethin’ physical, but then when the time comes for that conversation, that ‘what is this’ talk, you lie and say you’re fine with what you have with someone because you think you are protecting yourself and saving face. But you’re hurtin’ yourself, man. You’re hurting yourself. I’m sorry…”

Steve hasn’t stopped thinking about Sam’s words since he heard them three nights ago. They’ve kept him up at night, have been ringing through his head, have weighed heavy on his heart. They are words he has been thinking for months, years, words that Sam has tried to slowly tell him over time but in an emotional outburst ended up saying all at once over dinner.

They were long overdue but stung nonetheless. Steve didn’t know who he was trying to fool anymore, words out there for him and the person closest to him to see, crystal clear. He’s spent months bed hopping, trying to make the most out of physical relationships, yearning for more yet pretending he was okay with merely fucking around when that kind of relationship was the last thing he desired.

His age, his job, his lifestyle, his personality—every part of Steve, everything that makes up who he is, is desperate for a partner in life.

He has the house for another person, a stable career, the space in his heart. Maybe this is a wakeup call, one that he has needed for a long time, one that he has been too stubborn to see himself. Sam is right—he doesn’t deserve to take this treatment from himself. His immediate follow-up thought is a negative one, is how difficult it is to find someone who is open to and accepting of his intensity, of how he thoroughly enjoys falling head over heels for someone. People tend to not take to that well, don’t like that about Steve, that he’s an all-or-nothing kind of guy.

Steve is bringing his glass back up to his lips, is ready to toss the rest back and ask for another, when he seems him.

“Holy shit.”

“What’s that?” Clint asks, Steve blindly unaware that he was within ear’s reach, but he sets his glass down onto the bar top anyway.

“Nothin’, nothin’. Another?”

Steve thinks Clint nods before he turns and takes Steve’s glass with him, Steve diverting his eyes to the floor. He blinks a few times, maybe he hadn’t seen correctly, glances back up at the man sitting across the room.

Holy shit.

He releases the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding out, low and slow, as soon as his eyes rake over this man’s face once more. Steve feels his heart hammer against his chest a few times, the aching thing making a reappearance that he tries his hardest to tamp down. He’s almost certain he’s never seen someone more beautiful in his life, has never been swept away by someone’s physical appearance before. He’s met beautiful people, has seen them, has been intimate with them, but this is something entirely different.

This kid has a face that would make angels weep. A pair of sinful lips, rose-tinted cheeks, caramel-highlighted hair that curls and wisps as it pleases and is artfully effortless—Steve wants to tuck this one close to his chest for fear of others setting eyes on him. He has boyish charm that Steve has never come across and when he watches this man laugh, eyes wrinkling in the corners, nose scrunching up delightfully, Steve feels something he hasn’t felt in so long stir in his chest.

Hope.

The realization that this feeling is indeed hope has another one tucking in alongside it.

Doubt.

This final awareness that Sam has brought to the forefront of his mind has Steve uncharacteristically doubting himself. He’s on shaky ground, slipped footing. Where he is normally confident and self-assured, he is overthinking and questioning every action and thought he comes across. He feels like he once did when he first started dating, unaware of what is acceptable and what is not, overthinking every possible future scenario inside of his deafening brain.

“Here ya go, man,” Clint announces, placing Steve’s glass down in front of him. He pauses before reaching for it, pulls it towards his body a bit, yanks his eyes away from the man across the bar.

“Clint,” he starts before he can stop himself. He picks up his glass, uses it as an excuse to lift his finger. “Do you know them by chance? That redhead and the…the guy with her?”

He sips his whiskey as Clint turns and looks across the bar. He smiles.

“Eh, kinda. I know the girl’s name is Natasha, been tryin’ to get her number for weeks. She’s stubborn. I like her.”

Steve doesn’t hesitate.

“And what about the man with her?”

Clint shrugs his shoulders, “Yeah, not sure. Sorry, guy.”

“Nah, don’t…don’t worry,” he brushes off, lets his hands cup his glass as he feels nerves he hasn’t felt in years slip through his system. He wants to keep his eyes downcast, wants to reel himself in, but he feels an undeniable pull, an unavoidable urge, to take in as much of this man as he can while he’s been given the chance. When he looks back over across the bar, his heart leaps up into his throat as he sees the man looking over at him.

Shit.

He would like to think it’s the small amount of mustered up confidence that keeps his gaze locked across this busy room, locked onto what he swears is a pair of summer sky eyes, but he’s only fooling himself. It’s like he’s in a trance. Steve swears this is what people feel like when they claim they are “lovestruck”. It feels more like “dumbstruck” though. His palms grow sweaty, his heart races, he tries to find something to do with his hands and fumbles with his whiskey glass.

Either way, he meets this man halfway, looks on for a time that is more that socially appropriate, but one that feels so very right. When Steve lets his eyes wander down this man’s face, the curve of his jaw, to the delightful dimple in his chin, and back up, he’s broken his gaze and is turned towards the redhead with him.

“You…you wanna know what he’s drinking?”

Steve looks over at Clint, had entirely forgotten he was standing so close. Steve swallows, noise loud in his own ears but to no one else, looks down at his hands.

Does he?

It’s a simple and generous question, one with a heavy implication. Steve cannot ignore the timing of this moment; how divine it almost feels to be sitting here questioning what he wants in a future relationship and being in the middle of promising himself things will be different when he sees this breathtaking man.

"You...you think he'd be interested?"

"Only one way to find out, bud," Clint answers easily enough.

Sending a drink over is harmless, is something he would normally have no reservations in doing, would in fact take it over himself. But if he’s trying to be changed, if he’s seeking out a different kind of relationship, is this the way he wishes to go about it?

When his eyes cross the bar again and land on a blush that makes Steve’s gut curl pleasantly, hid decision is made.

“Yeah, why don’t you lemme know what he’s drinkin’…”

“He keeps looking over here, Buck…”

“Nat, I swear to god,” Bucky starts, unsure of what he is swearing about and unable to finish his sentence because her statement is true. The man at the bar keeps looking over in their direction, has continued to do so since he mortifyingly caught Bucky looking over at him. The only reason Bucky knows this to be true is because of the fact that he too cannot stop looking up and over at the man at the bar.

His stomach flips pleasantly and nervously when he sees the bartender talking to the man at the bar, unable to contain his noise when he sees them gesturing gently over to them.

“Oh god, they’re pointing over here, they’re looking over here!”

“I’m so serious, Bucky. If he doesn’t make a move and if you still sit here struck stupid, I’m going to get involved somehow. This will happen.”

Bucky has no comment in response, finds no use in refusing her efforts when he is almost certain he wants to talk to this man. Who wouldn’t? Panic rises up in his throat, thick and heavy, familiar. Why would a man to whom everyone would wish to talk to have an interest in Bucky? His eyes wander over to the bar once more, greedy for any crumbs of this man he can tuck away into his brain, when he sees the bartender start to walk over to their table, mischievous smirk on his lips, beer in hand.

“Oh my god, Natasha.”

“No fucking way. Clint didn’t take another order of ours, did he? That’s gotta be—”

Clint is all sparkling and tickled eyes when he saddles up to their tall table, sets the beer down in front of Bucky.

“My good sir,” he starts, shifting his body in a way that doesn’t block the man at the bar from Bucky’s view. “Another beer for you from my dear sweet friend sitting at the bar all alone over there.”

Clint gestures towards the man, arm extended, and when Bucky follows the movement, his eyes meet a gentle smile followed by a wink that has a physical force to it.

Oh.

Bucky’s tongue is thick in his mouth, a pleasant tingle at the nape of his neck, the warmth of his no doubt opaque blush creeping down his neck as he looks down at the beer. The smile that blooms on his lips is a slow one, but a loud one that is accompanied with a giggle, one that a bitten lip cannot hold back.

“I hate this beer,” is what he stupidly says in response, his giggle uncontrollably growing as Nat rolls her eyes and begins to laugh with him. She turns to Clint, lays her hand on his forearm and says, “Thanks, Clint. Looks like I need to take it from here.” The way her touch and his gaze linger is not lost on Bucky.

Clint claps his hand down onto the table, goes to turn away and walk back towards the bar, when Bucky asks, “What’s…what’s his name?”

“That’s not how it works, pal. The drink is an invitation to go over there and find out for yourself.”

Damn.

Bucky stares down at the amber-colored beer, mind racing, practically begs himself to not look up and across the bar. He feels Nat’s hand on his arm, a squeeze then.

“Are you freaking out?” she asks even though it is quite obvious that he is indeed freaking out. He speaks before he can think to keep his thoughts to himself.

“Why…why did he buy me a drink?”

Nat’s eyebrows knit together, Bucky looking up at her.

“Buck, he’s hitting on you. He wants you to talk to him.”

Bucky shakes his head.

“No like…why did he buy me a drink?”

Nat’s eyes soften as she brings her other hand up to grab for Bucky’s hand. Her eyes are specifically soft for a reason only she is aware of. Bucky reaches to squeeze for her fingers, swallows down the lump in his throat.

“Buck…” she starts, and Bucky knows what is coming yet needs to hear it anyway, even nods his head to encourage her.

“You deserve positive attention. You deserve to be wanted. This man is requesting your attention and you have every right to say no or walk away at any time.”

Bucky will not cry. He’s done that already today. This is too positive of a night and too exciting of a moment to ruin it with more tears. Nat’s words are one hell of comfort, one that settles over his shoulders and runs down his back, into his mind. These are words she has told him before, words she has lovingly given him time and time again when he needed them the most.

Brock didn’t treat you right. You aren’t the names he calls you. One day you’ll find someone who worships you and loves you the way that you deserve, someone who doesn’t make you feel bad for the things that are you and the way you are made. You are stronger and better than he’ll ever be.

It’s been months, almost a year, since Bucky finally walked away from his last relationship, one that was very unkind to him in many ways, one that Nat had begged him to leave for fear of his physical safety.

“It’s words now, Buck. It’s the words and the manipulation but it could become physical. Please.”

He had gone back to therapy, moved back in with Nat, worked on his physical health, even gone on dates and had purely physical relationships with others. All things he is immensely proud of, that anyone would be proud of, yet here he is questioning his self-worth in a bar.

This has turned into one hell of a night.

“I’m gonna go over there,” he decides with a squeeze of Nat’s hand. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his body is wracked with nerves, so much so he has to let out a whooshof air, a few more to follow.

“Holy shit, I’m gonna go over there.”

“Thank god. I was going to go over there if you weren’t. Buck, look at that man. He’s a sweet talker in the best way possible, I know it, I can tell. And you not only need a sweet talker, you want a sweet talker.”

“Nat, don’t…don’t get my hopes up, please. Shit.”

He slips from his chair, his feet hitting the floor, and the second thoughts come rushing in. He wishes he had put on a nicer outfit, wishes he would have put on some moisturizer, done up his hair—all of those physical alterations that can enhance a first meeting. He’s got on dark jeans, some old college robotics club shirt on, a jean jacket. He’s certain his face makes it look as if he’s been crying recently, and he has, but this man doesn’t need to know that.

He grabs for the beer, takes a few steps.

“Don’t leave without me, please,” Bucky mumbles to Nat as after he kisses her on the cheek. She squeezes his arms once more, nods her head.

“Remember, Buck—you look sexy as hell when you bite your lip.”

Steve signals for Clint to bring him another round the moment he looks up to see the kid walking over to Steve with the drink he had delivered to him in hand.

The rejection stings more than usual. He isn’t used to it and it happens to be right as he is feeling his most vulnerable. It most certainly doesn’t help that the closer this man gets to him, the more Steve wants him. He’s gorgeous, devastating, has features and carries himself in a way that has Steve’s insides yearning, pulling, aching.

Steve turns towards him as he approaches anyway, softens his features, looks as welcoming and confident as he can knowing what is about to happen. He’s bashful, this one. Doesn’t look up at Steve until he’s all but three steps in front of him, but when he does, good lord.

“Hi,” he says, simple and nervous, his crippling smile growing once he sees Steve’s own welcoming one. He sets the beer down on the bar.

“Hi,” Steve starts, ready to get this over with so this kid can get back to his friend. “I’m sorry if this was forward of me and I understand why you wouldn’t be interested in my forwardness, it’s just—”

“No, wait,” the man says with a quick shake of his head, his eyebrows knitting together. Steve stops talking immediately, a bit startled. “I…I’m very interested in your offer of a drink I just…I hate beer.”

Oh.

“But you’re drinking it?” Steve inquires gently, a smile playing with his lips, unable to hold it back as relief and hope sweep in through his chest. Cutie huffs, rubs the back of his neck and leans, rests an elbow on the bar.

“Yeah, umm…my friend said I’d like it and she uh, she was very wrong.”

With every passing second Steve spends in this man’s presence, the more comfortable he feels, the more he can sense his confidence returning with the undeniable pull between them. It slips off of his tongue easily, naturally—

“Alright, well lemme get you one you actually enjoy drinkin’, sugar.”

The reaction to his words is immediate and absolutely delicious. If Steve was a tad nervous saying these words out loud, throwing around a pet name, this reaction has his mojo solidifying like concrete underneath his feet. The man’s cheeks glow pink, he bites his lip, almost preens into the sweet name Steve gives him. Steve doesn’t know if it’s intentional, but he also tilts his head, exposes his neck as he wiggles where he stands. This one may be bashful but he’s dangerous.

“I’d love a Moscow Mule?”

“Excellent choice.”

Steve waves his hand, knows Clint is busying himself nearby on purpose, unable to prevent his knowing grin from shining through. He turns back to the man by his side, holds out his hand.

“My name is Steve.”

“Bucky. My name is Bucky.”

Bucky.

Their hands meet, Bucky’s skin as soft as it looks, grip firm, a tight shake. Steve doesn’t want to let go and that’s cheesy, awful, but it’s true and Steve lets himself feel the want coursing through his body and his heart in full, doesn’t shy away from it. Bucky doesn’t seem to want to let go of Steve’s hand either, but as he does, he sinks down into the seat next to Steve, right where he belongs.

Clint returns with a twinkling eye and Steve orders his drink for Bucky, turning his attention back to him once Clint has walked away with a wink.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. What’s brought you into this bar on this rainy and gloomy Friday night?”

Steve is grateful that Bucky chooses to turn his body towards him instead of sitting next to him, almost face to face and not shoulder to shoulder. It makes him feel more at ease, calmer, to have someone’s attention in such a way, for it to seemingly be on him and no one else. Steve likes that.

“I was feeling pretty gloomy myself,” Bucky tells him, voice gentle and pleasant. Steve is taken aback by his honesty. “My friend and I decided to cheer ourselves up, ease our spirits with some bar food. How about yourself?”

The two of them share a laugh, but Steve is quick to address Bucky’s emotions.

“I’m so sorry you’re feeling gloomy, Bucky. This sounds like a reliable plan to make yourself feel better though,” he hesitates before continuing, cautious of oversharing himself, but Bucky deserves the same level of vulnerability he’s given Steve. “I’ve been feeling down as well. Thought a bit of a moody moment, a drink in a bar on a rainy night, might make me feel better.”

Bucky thanks Clint, drink in his hand as he immediately grabs for it. Steve watches as he eyes it for a moment, takes the tiny straw between two fingers and stirs. When he looks back up at Steve under his lashes, the look is coy, is gutting, his little lip bite sexy as hell.

“Do you feel any better after your drink in a bar on a rainy night, Steve?”

Steve lowers his voice purposefully, meets Bucky’s gaze.

“The drink isn’t the thing that’s makin’ me feel better, sugar…”

Bucky is in love.

He’d never admit it out loud, to Nat, to himself, but he’s certain that Steve is so very special and that this is a moment that Bucky will remember for years to come. Even if they part ways tonight and never see one another again, he knows in his being that he’ll remember this night he spent at the bar with Steve.

Steve Rogers.

Bucky’s never felt more comfortable with another person so quickly. Their shared conversation rarely stops flowing, nor do the winks and the chiding, and Bucky knows Steve has to be exhausted of hearing Bucky giggle or seeing his cheeks glow red at his flirtatious behavior. Bucky doesn’t care. Steve makes him feel at ease and Bucky is three drinks into their conversation and Steve’s eyes are full of warmth and Bucky doesn’t care.

Steve is kind. He listens to Bucky as he talks, eyes on him, not distracted, like what Bucky has to say is the most important thing in the world at the moment. He asks Bucky about school, his majors, what interested him in pursuing such a lofty double-major. Steve even compliments Bucky, tells him how impressive that is, how smart Bucky must be. It has Bucky practically melting right through the floor.

“What do you do, Steve?” he asks, wanting to divert the attention away from himself, wanting an excuse to hear Steve talk more, to say his name. Bucky hadn’t realized the two of them have gotten so close, chairs already near one another, their bodies even closer, leaning towards the other. Steve has to be a warm person. Bucky knows that if he touched Steve, he’d want to wrap all of his limbs around him, would absolutely cling to him.

Bucky wants to touch Steve. He wants to do more than touch Steve.

Bucky needs to start drinking some water.

“I’m a lawyer,” Steve says easily, tilting his head into his hand, watching for Bucky’s reaction as he takes a sip of his own drink. Bucky is impressed, transparent as his eyebrows raise.

“That’s impressive.”

“Well, thank you. It’s not a bad gig.”

“If it ain’t that bad, why don’t you sound excited?”

Bucky doesn’t expect Steve to smile softly, for his eyes to wrinkle handsomely at the corners. It makes Bucky’s lips curl in kind, hopefully one that pulls Steve’s answer out of him. To seal the deal, Bucky mirrors Steve’s head tilt with his elbow on the bar.

“That’s a really good question, sugar.”

Sugar.

It’s been dropped a handful of times already and Bucky never wants to be referred to as anything else from this moment on. It makes his tummy turn pleasantly, indeed makes him feel sweet. It feels old fashioned and makes Bucky feel desired and Steve says it with such confidence it makes Bucky ache.

“I think…” Steve hesitates, looks over at Bucky with a thoughtful grin. “I think I’ve reached the point in my life where work isn’t my everything. It has been easy, ya know, up to this point in my life to throw myself into my work and let it be my all. I just…I don’t think I want it to be my all anymore.”

Bucky can’t hear anything but Steve’s words and the meaning behind them. The noise and words of the people around him turn into a dull roar. Steve shares his thoughts with Bucky with such emotion, he almost feels as if he should apologize to Steve for asking that sort of question within their first meeting. Did he push too hard? Should he not have asked? This doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be having with someone he’s met just an hour earlier but that thought is the only thing that makes this feel wrong.

It feels very right to be communicating with Steve this way.

Which is why, heart racing as he asks the questions of, “And what do you want to be your all now?”, he knows the answer will be—

“Love.”

Bucky is going to remember this night for the rest of his life.

He feels as if he is sealing some sort of deal when he murmurs, “Yeah. Love is…love is a pretty valid thing to throw your everything into.”

Steve’s soft smile feels like a warm blanket draped right around Bucky’s shoulders. There have been few times in Bucky’s life where he has not regretted being so vulnerable and open with someone and this moment will be added to that short list. Eyes locked, knees almost knocking, belly warm with vodka, ginger beer, arousal, and sugar, the two of them resort to sitting there and drinking each other in instead of their drinks, of sharing any more words.

Bucky maps out every minute detail he can of Steve’s face, from how soft the hairs in his beard look to the way his eyes seem like storm clouds ready to break, back to his bitten, cherry-red bottom lip. Do people do this? Stare at each other longingly, no words being shared, all in dimly lit bars? Maybe Bucky has been doing this whole dating thing wrong for the past few months. Maybe this feeling is because it is Steve.

Shut up, heart.

“You two want another?”

Bucky doesn’t even jump back at Clint’s boisterous interruption. That’s most definitely the vodka’s fault. Maybe it’s the whiskey coursing through Steve’s own body that that has him reaching forward, closing the short distance between them with a hand. Bucky’s heart doesn’t have enough time to even stutter by the time Steve is brushing Bucky’s hair back from his face, his fingers gently tipping Bucky’s chin as his eyes dance between his own, over the features of his face. Bucky almost whimpers when Steve’s hand falls from his face, when that warm touch is broken.

“I think your friend might be gettin’ a bit restless, Buck,” is what Bucky hears Steve murmur, watches him say, eyes locked on the older man’s lips. A tap on the underside of his chin has him comprehending what Steve’s words mean. He forgot all about Nat to be honest, but that realization doesn’t have him pulling away from Steve in the slightest.

“I think that’ll be our last, Clint. I’ll pay for their meal as well,” Steve tells Clint, eyes not leaving Bucky’s as he speaks, merely glancing down once to retrieve his wallet before his eyes are back on Bucky’s. Bucky’s gut burns pleasantly hot at Steve’s show of money, of his show of providing and taking care of Bucky. It scratches an itch that is a deep one for Bucky, one that hasn’t been scratched properly before, one that Bucky wants Steve to keep scratching.

If Steve asked, Bucky would go home with him. He’s only done that a few times before, but he’d do it for Steve. One question and that’s all it would take for Bucky to go home with Steve.

“Bucky,” Steve starts, and Bucky watches as Steve stands from his chair, and fuck, he’s bigger than Bucky thought he was. Even sitting in a barstool seat, even with Bucky being six-foot himself, Steve is a large man. Bucky’s mouth waters. Just one question, just that one question and Bucky would be out the door with Steve in a heartbeat.

“Can I give you my number?”

That isn’t the question Bucky was expecting but it’s…it’s better. You don’t give your number to people you intend to never talk to again once you spend the night with them. Right? Bucky isn’t sure but he likes this question more, likes the idea of having Steve Rogers’s number in his cell phone to utilize for whatever purpose he deems necessary in the future.

Steve smells so good and he’s so warm, and Bucky isn’t even touching him. He’s incredibly close though, and when he looks up at Steve, tilts his head up while still feeling that tap under his chin from seconds prior, Steve steps in close.

“Yes,” Bucky breathes, almost stutters, as Steve slips his hand into Bucky’s jacket pocket, pulling out his phone on his own accord. Bucky reaches forward and naturally rests his trembling hands onto Steve’s hips, nothing Bucky would ever feel confident doing it this weren’t Steve. He is warm. He’s sturdy as well, feels like all things strength and power underneath Bucky’s hands. Steve holds out Bucky’s phone, Bucky types in his passcode. The confidence has the tremble in Bucky’s hand shifting and rolling throughout his entire body.

Bucky doesn’t want to let go of Steve.

“I’d like to see you again, Bucky. I know we didn’t have long together tonight but I think you’re special and I’d like to take you out on a proper date,” Steve practically purrs as his fingers work on Bucky’s phone, and Bucky feels like he’s about to combust on the spot.

“I’d…I’d like that, Steve,” Bucky breathes, still in awe at his luck, how this night has turned out, and how someone like Steve Rogers wants to take him out on a date. Steve’s smile reaches his eyes and then some, makes his features glow. Bucky’s fingers twitch where they rest on Steve’s hips.

“That’s good, sugar,” Steve tells him and oh, Bucky is going to be thinking of those three words all night, all week, all month. Steve slips Bucky’s phone back into his jacket pocket, taps it and lets his hand linger on Bucky’s body. “You just let me know when you wanna see me and I’ll make it happen, I’ll be there.”

“Now?” Bucky presses too quickly, too eagerly. He’s mortified for a moment, swiftly thinks of a way to play it off as a joke, but Steve’s smile is growing, features going soft and mischievous.

“Buck,” Steve breathes, coos, and this time a soft, strangled noise does slip passed Bucky’s lips. “Now doesn’t give me the proper amount of time I want with you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Bucky burns.

“Steve—”

“You’ve been drinkin’ and I don’t think your friend over there would like it if you left with me anyway, no matter how much I’d try to convince her I’d do nothin’ but take good care’a you.”

“Steve…”

Bucky doesn’t know why he says the other man’s name a second time, maybe as an excuse to watch the way Steve reacts to it, heavy eyelids and slick lips.

“Text me. Call me. Please, Buck?” he requests, hand rising back up to Bucky’s chin, the back of his knuckles running along the front of Bucky’s throat in a casual show of touch that has Bucky struggling to take air into his lungs.

“I will, I promise.”

“Mmm, I’ll talk to you later then, sugar,” Steve whispers as he ducks his head, presses his lips into Bucky’s heated cheek. Bucky wishes it were a kiss on his lips, wishes he could push Steve back into his chair and follow him, climb right into his lap. But that’s probably the vodka talking. Or his hindbrain.

Steve is slow to pull back, is slow to remove his fingers from Bucky’s chin, is slow as Bucky drops his own. He looks down at Bucky as he does so, lets his fingers slide to squeeze at Bucky’s hand as he turns, tucking his wallet back into his pocket, Clint returning with the bill.

“I’ll see you later, Buck.”

“Bye, Steve,” Bucky smiles and Steve turns on his heel and walks towards the front door and out, Bucky’s eyes on him every step of the way. As soon as the door closes, he has no choice but to turn and press his forehead against the bartop, to let out a heavy and loud exhale as he does so.

“Oh my god.”

“Well, I for one am horny after seeing such a display,” Clint shares, a low whistle following his words. Bucky giggles, Clint’s thought amusing and his own mind and body unsure of what to do with all of this pent-up energy.

“Yeah, you aren’t the only one, Clint. Jesus fucking christ, Bucky. I can’t believe what I just witnessed. Did that just happen?”

Nat settles into Steve’s old seat, Bucky reaching for her as soon as he hears her voice.

“I was hoping you could tell me. Holy shit, Nat. Is this a dream?”

Clint hums.

“Hmm, let’s see, kid,” he starts, turning to Nat. “You wanna utilize this newfound horny and capitalize on it together, Natasha?”

Bucky doesn’t see the look that Nat gives him in return but it’s enough to have Clint quickly conceding with a, “Nope, nope— not a dream. This is real life, my friend.”

“Did you get his number? Are you seeing him again?” Nat presses without much patience and Bucky is huffing out a giggle once more, raising his head up to look at Nat. He squeezes her hand.

“He gave me his number, I’m…I’m gonna see him again. Oh my god, Nat—I’m gonna see him again.”

“Hey, it’s…god I’m so sorry I had to push back plans. No, I know it’s like the fourth time I’ve done this, but I swear I have a good reason this time, swear. No, I can—yeah I can meet you there instead. I uh…no I met someone. God, Sam he’s…this one’s different. A fucking hour and I know he’s different. He's so special. I feel…god I feel so good. No, yeah I’m gonna see him again, I’m…I’m gonna see him again.”

see daddy steve and baby bucky here 💕 listen to their playlist here 💕 read more of their story here and here 💕 come shout with me here 💕

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Ch. 23 of 27: Promises

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHOOSE ME INSTEAD MASTERLIST

A/N: I’m back! Most of my exams are done and I’m finally back with a new chapter. Before you read it, I recommend rereading Chapter 22. It’ll be easier to understand this chapter. Short reminder: in the german version of the books, “Narcissa” is spelled “Narzissa”. So please don’t be confused about the spelling. Have fun! <3

CHAPTER 22

Words: 3.4k Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Reader, post war Warnings: angst, smut

He appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

For days, you had avoided him. Sat as far away as possible from him in class, stayed close to Ginny and Hermione, didn’t give him a chance to even approach you. And now, way past curfew you met him on a random hallway near the library.

The sight of him made your heart jump. His eyes widened. The two of you stood in front of each other, quietly waiting for the other to make a move. You took all of him in and tried your best not to wince when you realized how sickly he looked. It was your fault.

Draco spoke first. “What are you doing here?” His voice was strained.

You hadn’t heard his voice in what felt like weeks and you took a moment to process it. “Owlery,” you said finally. “I was on my way to the Owlery. I need to send a letter to my parents.”

He nodded. “I heard what happened. I’m sorry.”

You looked down. It was strangely comforting to hear it. “I know.” You wanted to say more but no words came to mind. None that would fit your current situation anyways. “I should leave,” you mumbled and straightened your back. When you walked past him, you smelt a whiff of his cologne and held your breath. You didn’t dare to look at him and resumed your way towards the Owlery.

“We need to talk.”

He had raised his voice and the words echoed in the dark hallway. You hesitated. “Draco …” Then you shook your head. “No.”

“Y/N, you owe me.” You heard his footsteps. “You owe me an explanation.”

It was then that you finally turned around. “I gave you one.”

Draco scoffed. “You gave me shit.”

“I gave you what you deserve,” you shot back. Each word struggled to come out. Lies, so many lies. “I told you, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be with you. We took this too far.”

You didn’t look him in the eyes but there was no reason to. The pain in his voice showed you that the words had their desired effect: “I still don’t believe you.”

“That’s not my problem,” you said. All the exhaustion from the past week suddenly rushed back and you felt your eyes beginning to burn. You wiped over your face, trying to keep your composure. “Draco,” you began and then you noticed something in his hand. An all too familiar bottle. Ginny had the same one on her nightstand. “What –”

Draco smiled bitterly and held up the sleeping medicine. “Thanks to you.”

“Screw you, Malfoy.” You turned around and left.

 “You have to eat something,” Ginny gently touched your shoulder and you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulder. She sighed but her hand stayed on your skin, warmth radiating from it. “Please, you have barely –”

“I’m not hungry.” You cleared your throat. It felt so raspy. Speaking hurt.

“Come on, Y/N,” Ginny tried again. “It’s still early. If we leave now, no one will even see us. You don’t even have to get dressed. You can go in your pajamas.” You heard the smile in her voice. “How much fun would that be.”

A smile tugged on your lips but you couldn’t bring yourself to move a muscle. You were tired. So tired.

 “Oh, so we’re using last names again?” Draco followed you down the hallway with long strides. “Fine, Y/L/N.”

Your face burned, not with anger but with shame. His nightmares had returned and it was all your fault. The rational part of your brain told you that you weren’t responsible for his suffering. The break up was merely one tiny puzzle piece, one tiny thing that added up to all the drama and hurt in his life, but still it could have been avoided. The pure knowledge of that drowned out that part of your brain. And what was even worse – you couldn’t change it now. Couldn’t help him. Not now. Not ever.

“What do you want from me?”, the coldness in your voice frightened yourself.

“What I want from you?”, Draco sneered behind you. “I want you to stop lying!”

 Astoria was gorgeous. You had noticed it before but now you saw her in an entirely different light. When bitter words spilled out of you, a desperate attempt to cut through her skin and into her heart, her expression changed but her beauty stayed.

Their wedding photos will be on the front page of The Daily Prophet, you realized and the thought flipped your stomach. She’ll look perfect and happy and he … will he smile?

 You whirled around and nearly bumped into him. “When will you get this into your head, Malfoy? I’m not lying to you!” Every word was accompanied by a tap of your finger against his chest. Draco caught your wrist and held it still. It was unexpected and his tight grip hurt. You let out a sharp hiss.

“Merlin, when will you ever stop this charade?” Draco stared at you. The disgust in his eyes send shivers down his spine. You had seen this look before on him but it had never been directed at you. “All you ever do is lie! You lie to your parents, your friends, everyone who you say means something to you receives nothing from you except lies and deceptions. It seems to be the only thing you’re truly good at, the only thing that –”

“Shut up!”, you shrieked. You tried to pull away from him but he held tightly on to your wrist.

 You read the letter over and over and over until you memorized every last word of it. Your fathers handwriting was shaky, stretched letters, barely readable as if he wrote them in a hurry. Lines were smeared, dots missing, such a strange contrast to the neatly put-together man.

They found Alissa. Your sister. She was alive and well, hiding out in Southern Germany with two other Death Eaters that fled the country after the Battle of Hogwarts. They changed their appearances and names and got low-paying jobs in local muggle stores. You almost snorted when you read it. Your sister, the same one who believed muggles should be enslaved, now served them? Oh, what bitter irony this life kept in store for us.

Two days after the letter reached you, her face appeared on The Daily Prophet. You let out a sharp breath. It’s been years since you had last seen her face and time had not been treating her kindly. Sunken cheeks and hair that hung down in greasy strands – your hands started to shake. There was barely any resemblance between the woman that stared at you with blank eyes and the sister you grew up with.

“LAST DEATH EATERS FINALLY FOUND”, the headline said. You skimmed over the words but folded the newspaper and put it away once they got to a gruesome retelling of the Cleansing of Edinburgh.

Narzissa had kept her promise and you hated her for it.

You felt the stares of your classmates burning holes into your cloak and Hermione reached for your hand to squeeze it tightly. When you looked up however, your eyes were drawn to him.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You wondered if he knew. If he had figured it out.

 Tears burned in your eyes. He’s right, you thought, he’s right about all of it. Draco abruptly turned his head; a clanking sound was heard at the end of the hallway. You barely noticed it.

“I have to stay away from you,” you whispered and he looked back at you. “Why can’t I stay away from you?” Your voice broke.

“You know why,” Draco replied. “It’s why my nightmares returned too.”

“Draco …” His name rolling from your tongue – it felt so right.

“We need one another.” He came closer. “We … whatever it was that we had, it worked.”

You let out a shuddering breath. “It didn’t.”

His gaze hardened again. “Stop fucking lying,” he hissed and suddenly, he let go of your hand and pressed you up against the wall. You yelped.

“Stop forcing something that isn’t there.” He was close, so damn close. “You have a wild imagination, Malfoy.”

He scoffed. “Look at me and say this again.” He grabbed you by your chin and forced you to look at him. “I said, look at me,” he growled. “Tell me it was all in my imagination. Every word, every touch, every confession late at night,” he glared at you. “Tell me, it meant nothing. Tell me, you didn’t feel it. Tell me, you don’t still dream of me. That you don’t long for my hands on your body, for the way my lips made you scream my name.”

His face was only inches away from yours. His smell was intoxicating; you could barely concentrate. The touch of his hand burned through your clothes. Naturally, instinctively, your hips rolled against his. His eyes glistened at the movement. “Look me in the eyes and tell me, it was all part of my imagination.”

You stared at him and with every passing second, you drowned in the grey of his eyes, drowned in the storm of them. “I hate you.” 

When your lips met, lightning struck.

“What are you reading?”

Theo and Blaise dropped down onto the grass and startled you.

“Potions,” you replied and Blaise raised his eyebrows at your obvious lie. You had made no attempt to hide the letter that laid on top of your potions textbook. Suddenly, you tensed up, remembering the last time when the boys came to look for you. “Is everything okay with him?”

“With whom?”, Blaise asked.

“Draco, idiot.” Theo rolled his eyes. “He’s … fine,” he then said.

“More or less,” Blaise mumbled and the two of you glared at him.

“We came to give you this.” Theo stretched out his arm, holding a piece of paper. You took it. An unfamiliar name and address was written in Theo’s sloppy handwriting. You looked at him, visibly confused.

“She can help you with your sister,” Theo said. You blinked.

“The trial,” Blaise explained. “My mother knows her and she helped in quite a few Death Eater trials so far.”

You read the name again, wondering how you had never heard of that woman. “Death Eaters belong in Azkaban,” you finally stated. “My sister is no exception.” The words burned in your throat.

The boys sighed. “A lifetime in Azkaban will not help her. People like your sister need a chance of rehabilitation,” Theo said.

“Do they?”, you asked with furrowed brows.

“After a considerable amount of time spent in Azkaban,” Blaise added. “Don’t get us wrong, she needs to be punished. Obviously. But prison alone will not help her change her world views. 

For the first time, you realized how little you knew about the two Slytherins. You had heard of Blaise’s mother, a woman who was famous for her many marriages. And you remembered the day, Theo’s father escaped Azkaban. But you knew nothing beyond that. You wondered how much pain and heartbreak these two young men carried inside their hearts.

It felt right.

He felt right. His lips against yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hands grabbing you roughly. There was nothing sweet about this kiss. Nothing loving or calm. You felt his desperation in the way his hands teared at your blouse, felt his pain when he guided you to the nearest door in the hallway.

It was an unlocked classroom and the two of you didn’t break the kiss when you stumbled inside of it. He closed the door with his foot before lifting you up on a table. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. His lips traveled down to your neck and you threw your head back as he began to suck on the skin. A whimper escaped you when his teeth scraped against your skin.

Draco’s hands moved quickly. As if he had whispered a spell, the buttons on your blouse sprung open. You moaned softly when his hands explored your body like he’d do so for the first time. Flashbacks from your first night flooded your mind and for a moment, you were back in the hotel room. The memories mixed together with your current reality and you could no longer differentiate between the two. You whimpered at the way, Draco caressed you, pulled you into hungry kisses and when his fingers sunk inside of you, you almost screamed.

Draco knew by now which buttons to press to turn you into a whimpering, begging mess. You held on to him, your fingers clawing in his back, knowing you’d leave him with red streaks all over it. He pumped into you, while whispering in your ear. His thumb flickered over your clit and your breath grew more and more erratic.

An ache had begun to form in your stomach, growing stronger and stronger, and you begged for him not to stop. He chuckled and his hot breath against your cheek combined, made you moan his name.

“Come for me,” he growled. “Come for me, I want to hear you scream my name.”

You obeyed him.

You watched him during Potions. He sat next to Theo and the two boys worked quietly on their assignment. Draco’s fingers moved with precision and ease, cutting the ingredients, mixing them in. From time to time, he read over the instructions, his brows furrowing slightly. He showed no sign of uncertainty and when Slughorn walked past him, the professor nodded contently.

The scene reminded you of the beginning of this school year when you had to work together for the first time. After he rescued you from Ron’s insults. “I don’t ever need you to come to my rescue,” you had snarled at him and Draco’s response was to flirt with you during class. How confused you had been during those weeks. How utterly irritated when you had to admit to yourself that Draco Malfoy was not the one dimensional asshole you had always wanted him to be. Oh, how you wanted to go back in time to this exact moment.

“You’re staring at him again,” Hermione said.

Your eyes dropped down to the cauldron again as you kept stirring it. You felt the worried look of your friend but were too exhausted to say something back to her.

A few minutes later, you looked up again. Draco had stopped working. His hands still held a knife. A root remained untouched on the table. When your eyes met, his flickered with pain. You held your breath. What would happen if you just went over to him? Then Theo touched his arm and Draco turned to him, breaking the moment.

Draco didn’t give you a chance to calm down and catch your breath. You still rode out the last waves of your orgasm when you felt him pressed against your folds, hard and dripping. He pulled you into a hard kiss and entered you in one swift movement, stretching you in an almost painful way.

“Fuck,” he groaned and you bit down his lip. You moaned when he began to move, equally rough and desperate to the way he kissed you before.

“I love you,” you heard him mumble. “I love you so fucking much, I hate you for making me feel this way.” He thrusted into you relentlessly. You arched your back and his hands gripped you so tightly, you were scared it’d leave bruises in the morning.

You mumbled something against his lips but didn’t know whether it was a curse or a confession, all you felt was the way he pounded into you. Each thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge. You felt the sensation in your stomach growing stronger and stronger. Draco grabbed you by the neck and your eyes fluttered open. When they met his, you moaned at the lust in them and they darkened. Your legs started shaking; he knew you were close.

“You want to come again?”, he groaned.

“Yes, please,” you replied and he smirked; a smirk that sent shivers down your spine. Gods, how you had missed this expression on his face. You knew that in the years to come, you’d dream of the sight of him ��� like this, sweaty and wanting and desperate for your walls to clench around his cock.

“Then come for me,” he hissed. You let go and pleasure followed immediately. It washed over you and you were certain you blacked out there for a second. Your legs started shaking uncontrollably and you came with his name on your lips.

Draco followed shortly after. His hips stuttered and with a silent curse, he released himself inside of you.

 ***

It was quiet. Draco had his hands behind his head as you rested your head on his chest. Your cloaks protected the two of you against the coldness radiating from the stones. His eyes were open, his mind restless.

Your fingers traced over his side and he shuddered at the soft touch. “I’m sorry,” you said, disturbing the peace. “I’m sorry, I can’t give you the answers you deserve.”

Draco swallowed. A few days ago, you had shattered his heart in the blink of an eye. But now, the fleeting touch of your fingertips mended it back together. Deep down, he sensed that it was only a temporary fix however. A tiny bandage on an open wound that would never stop bleeding – but he’d bleed out willingly if it meant he could hold you in his arms a little while longer.

“I would burn down the world for you,” Draco whispered. “I would hunt down whoever hurt you, if you’d only allow me. You hold my heart in your hands.”

You raised your head. A single tear rolled down your cheek and Draco reached to wipe it away. “I love you.”

Draco let out a shuddering breath. He had imagined a thousand different scenarios in which you confessed to him. In none of them did they feel like a dagger plunged in your heart.

“What I said that night was a lie.”

“I know.” He smiled sadly. “Allow me to love you back. Please.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I can’t.”

Draco sighed in frustration and stared back at the ceiling.

“Promise me to let this go.”

He scoffed. “I can’t let go of you.”

“Yes.” You sat up next to him. “Yes, you can. You must. Promise me.”

He looked at you. Merlin, how beautiful you were.

“If you truly love me, you will promise me and you will honor your promise.”

“You’re unfair,” he said softly.

“Slytherin blood runs through me.”

Draco chuckled. You leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips. “Draco, please.”

He promised.

 ***

Draco stared at the ring in his hands. A golden band with an emerald, encircled by diamonds. A stunning, timeless piece that belonged to his grandmother and would look beautiful on Astoria’s petite fingers.

His eyes flickered to the nightstand. The bag of candy from the weekend in Hogsmeade was almost empty. Two pieces remained. He didn’t touch them, couldn’t bring himself to eat them. When he did, there would be nothing left of you. There would be no physical reminder that you ever shared a part of his life. No photos of the two of you together, no notes, no forgotten T-Shirt or hair pins in his dorm. You had come into and vanished from his life without a single trace.

Draco gritted his teeth when the familiar emptiness began to rise inside of him. He looked back at the ring. It’d suit you. Green was your colour, Draco was sure of it. The time you wore his scarf proved it.

“It’s not too late yet.” Theo sat on his bed, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched his friend. “You don’t have to do this. Contrary to your belief, you do have a choice.”

Draco closed his eyes. For a split second, he saw you and him, in the manor, laughing about something his mother had said. He saw you, barely covered by satin sheets, the morning sun hitting your face. He saw vacations, candlelight dinners, celebrations, your favorite flowers on the kitchen table, a shared closet, candy from Honeydukes. He saw happiness.

Draco opened his eyes and looked at Theo. “You know where Astoria is?”

***

CHAPTER 24

Choose Me Instead Masterlist Harry Potter Masterlist

The Tag list for this fic is closed!

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[mymoonagedaydream]

Only the Good Die Young (Part 1)

Summary: Coming home from college for the summer, you expected your days to be spent reading in your bedroom and sitting through tense to family dinners- but an old acquaintance had something else in mind for you

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Language, strong anti-religious sentiment throughout, harmful relationship with parents, irresponsible motorcycle healthy and safety measures, smoking

Author's Note: Something a bit different, why the hell not. This story is based around lyrics from Billy Joel's 'Only the Good Die Young'. What a man.

---

'Y/n! You look… healthy.' 

Those were your mother's first words as you walked through the door of your family home. Not saying how pleased she was to see you or asking how your flight was, but commenting on how you looked with her typical passive-aggressive euphemisms.

This was going to be a long summer. 

Initially you were adamant about staying at your dorm, even on your own. All you wanted was peace and space. Then your parents threatened to cut you off if you didn't come home, so here you were. 

You traipsed upstairs. Approaching your bedroom, you saw the bolt haphazardly screwed to the outside of the door. Your father had installed it when you were twelve, after he caught you watching ‘ungodly’ TV shows in the living room at midnight- Doctor Who. 

Your room had been redecorated. It looked fucking dreadful. You glanced up at the wall and a little bit of sick shot up to the back of your mouth when you saw a ‘live, laugh, love’ sticker plastered up there. 

A long, long summer.

---

Your first errand was grocery shopping. Wandering around the store, you grabbed everything on the list and headed to the checkout. Through the front window you saw billows of smoke blowing past, but you couldn’t quite see where they were coming from. 

As you stepped outside, you looked over to see a pretty big group of guys in leather jackets, most of them with cigarettes on the go. They were gathered around the corner of the building, the one you had to walk past to get home. You kept your head down, gripping your grocery bags tight and passing them as quickly as possible, when you heard one of them pipe up. 

'Well holy shit. Y/n?'

You turned towards the voice. James Barnes. 

The two of you went to high school together but, apart from the occasional stilted conversation and reluctant group project, you’d never really developed any sort of relationship. Besides, he always hung out with people your mother didn't approve of. 

And he was what, now? In a motorcycle gang? Figures. 

'Hi James. Good to see you.' You mumbled, breaking stride momentarily. His friends seemed to find that funny. 

'People call me Bucky now.' 

Nodding feebly, you gave him a polite smile before moving off again. You noticed that your face felt warm and your stomach was involuntarily tensing. Sure, he was much more handsome and charismatic than you remembered, but you had no idea why being in his presence was making you this nervous. You heard approaching footsteps and in a second he was by your side, walking next to you.

'You moving back to town?'

'No, just visiting for the summer.'

‘Are your parents still religious nut-jobs?'

You stopped and snapped your head round, in complete shock at the brazenness of his questioning.

'I'll take that as a yes.’ Without taking his eyes off you he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placed one between his lips and lit it. ‘Guessing you won't be having much fun this summer then.'

'Probably not your kind of fun.' 

He smirked and stepped towards you. ‘Man, you Catholic girls start much too late.’

‘I don’t think I asked for your opinion, James.’ It came out much softer than you anticipated, barely a mumble. Not the kind of back-off-or-else warning you were aiming for. He was really getting under your skin.

'You didn’t, but I’ll give you another.’  

You raised an eyebrow, watching him blow a cloud of smoke out over your head and chuckle at your expression. Against your better judgement, you waited for him to carry on.

‘I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.' He stepped closer again, bringing his lips close to your ear, and whispered. 'Cause the sinners are much more fun.'

---

You dropped the shopping on the counter. The whole way home you hadn’t been able to get James Barnes out of your head, hadn’t been able to stop picturing his smirk or imagining his warm breath tickling your ear. 

You wanted to know more about him, and if anyone had information it'd be your mother. She knew everything about everyone in this godforsaken town. Sitting down for dinner, you seized your opportunity.

'I saw James Barnes at the grocery store today.'

She abruptly dropped her knife and it hit her plate with a sharp clang, making you jump.

'You stay away from that boy.' She punctuated the words by pointing her fork at you. 'He's trouble. Him and his gang.'

You hated the way she spoke to you sometimes, like you were a child. You were in your twenties for fuck’s sake. 

'He seemed nice enough.'

‘That’s how it starts.’ Your father piped up. ‘Before you know it he’s got you hooked on drugs, living in a trailer, pregnant with his deviant child.’ 

And that was the end of that conversation. 

Being away, you’d almost forgotten how messed up your parents were. It was terrifying to think that you used to be just as bad. They had you completely brainwashed before you left for college and, even now, some of their intrusive religious dogma still lingered in your subconscious. 

---

Sunday. The priest was droning on about something but you weren’t concentrating, his dull voice just sounded like a janky old extractor fan whirring behind the altar. You stood, sat, stood, kneeled, sat along with everyone else like sheep being herded, singing and praying whenever prompted. This, every Sunday for ten weeks, was going to be torture.

An hour or so into the service, you felt yourself nodding off. Your shoulders relaxed and your head felt too heavy to be held up by your neck but, just as your eyes started to close, something startled you. Startled the whole congregation. The droning from the altar stopped and heads turned towards the door, where the disturbance was coming from. 

It sounded like a shuddering motorbike engine. Then another joined. In a couple of seconds the entire church was filled with an echoing cacophony of backfiring engines. 

Someone at the back stood up and ran to the door. There was some shouting and laughing, but the noise eventually moved away, fading into the distance. Looking around, you saw a sea of indignant and sour faces. The tension hovering in the air was palpable.

‘And that,’ your mother hissed through clenched teeth, ‘is why you don’t go near James Barnes and his friends.’

You had to suck in your cheeks to smother your laughter, nodding insincerely at her words. James’ voice echoed in your head…

The sinners are much more fun.

---

A couple days later, one of your old friends invited you to a house party- or ‘board game night’ as you told your parents. Parties were usually a little out of your comfort zone, but you’d do anything to get out of their house for an evening. 

Wandering from room to room, you checked if there was anyone else there you recognised. Nope. You skulked to the kitchen and opened a can of diet coke. 

There was a hard tap on your shoulder and you turned to see James Barnes’ wide smile.

‘Hey there.’

‘Hi James.’ You muttered, taking a sip of your drink. ‘I heard your little stunt outside the church last week. You make a habit of that?’

‘Nope. Just thought it’d be nice to welcome you home.’ 

Interesting. That whole thing was for you? Your stomach started to flutter with excitement despite part of your brain screaming that he was probably just mocking you, flirting with you for a bet. To save any potential embarrassment, you went on the defensive. 

‘Gee, thanks. Are you and your friends always that obnoxious James?’

‘Ah y’know.’ He leant against the counter, folding his arms, still grinning at you. ‘We might be laughing a bit too loud, but that never hurt no one.’

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest and doing everything you could to keep a lid on how excited his deep chuckles were making you. He bit his lip and your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your chest. 

‘And call me Bucky.’ He pushed himself off the counter, disappearing into the crowd.

Hours passed and you eventually realised that you weren’t really having a great time. Everyone around you was borderline hammered but you knew if your parents got a whiff of alcohol you’d be locked inside all summer, so you were stone-cold. 

You snuck out the back door, swiftly sliding it shut. Focusing more on what was happening behind you than in front, you managed to unceremoniously trample over someone’s feet. 

James, of course it was. Brilliant. 

He was leant against the wall, finishing off a cigarette. Chuckling, he held out the pack to you, but you shook your head. 

‘Leaving so soon?’ He grunted.

‘Yeah, not really my scene.’

‘Same here. Want to go somewhere else?’ Your heart stuttered at his question. You struggled to form a reply, gazing at him wide-eyed. He smirked and looked away. 'It’s alright, I know the deal. Your mother told you all I could give you was a reputation, right?'

You couldn’t hold back your excited smile anymore and his eyes lit up when he saw it. Shrugging faintly, your mind scurried around trying to find something witty and attractive to say. He dropped his cigarette butt and crushed it under his boot before slowly approaching you. Stopping a couple inches away, he smirked down at your dazed expression.

‘Come out with me tomorrow.’

---

You told your mother that you were having a day at the local library. You weren’t necessarily lying- you had no idea what Bucky had in mind, so anything was a possibility. 

He was waiting by the monument in the town centre, like he’d said yesterday. 

‘So,’ you said, prompting him to turn towards you and smile, ‘what are we doing?’

He held his elbow out and you snaked your hand through it. 

‘You’ll see.’

Much to your surprise, he took you to the fair. You wandered around, hand enclosed in his, talking and laughing for hours. He bought you a hot dog and spent ages trying to win you a stuffed giraffe, but his aim wasn’t great. You couldn’t hold back your laughter after he missed for the fourth time, so he picked you up, swung you around and shouted that he was going to sell you to the carnival. 

When both of you were tired and full, he walked you to the park, pulling you down next to him on a bench and wrapping his arm tight around your waist.

‘Thanks Bucky.’ You said faintly.

‘For what?’

‘Didn’t think I’d be having much fun this summer, but I had a really nice time.’

He smirked and scooched even closer to you, his firm thigh pressed against yours and his thumb gently stroking your hip. There was a comfortable silence for a few seconds before he muttered to himself.

‘It ain’t right.’

‘What?’

He sighed, brushing his chin against your hair. ‘Your parents. Catholics, man- they just built you a temple and locked you away. You’ve barely lived.’

‘It’s not all bad.’ You whispered, relaxing your head against his shoulder and angling your face up towards his. 

‘Maybe.’ Adjusting himself, he turned towards you and put his free hand under your chin. ‘But that stained-glass never really lets in the sun.’

He pressed his lips against yours. Your stomach flipped. His hand moved from your chin to cradle the side of your neck and his thumb brushed softly across your cheek. He pressed towards you more firmly, sliding his tongue along your lips. He tasted like cigarettes and candy floss. Your knees tensed and your thighs started shaking. He must’ve noticed, because you felt a deep chuckle vibrating into your mouth, but that only made it worse. You melted into him, just about steadying yourself by gripping the lapels of his jacket. 

He pulled away, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck, keeping a tight grip on your waist. 

‘Not bad for a church girl.’

---

‘What is this?!’ Your mother burst into your room, looking horrified and holding her phone out in front of her.

You squinted at the screen, it was a photo. You and Bucky holding hands at the fair. Shit.

‘Where did you get that?’ You muttered.

‘Angela sent it to me. She saw you there, with him.’

You stood from your bed, ready to plead with her. ‘Look, he’s a nice guy, he’s-’ 

‘He is a criminal. And if you think you’re seeing him again, you’re wrong.’ She turned and started to storm away. 

You felt anger bubbling inside, nothing like you’d ever felt before. Everything Bucky had said, his anger at your parents- he was right. You’d thought about it before, of course you had, but all you’d ever felt was a kind of defeated acceptance. Now, you were pissed.  

‘I am not a fucking child.’ You screamed.

She jerked to a stop. Slowly twisting round, you saw her face was filled with venom. ‘We’ll speak again when you’re ready to apologise.’ She hissed, slamming your door behind her. You heard it lock.

Wow, that felt good. Really good. You flopped down onto your bed. Your head was spinning but you were grinning to yourself, still half in disbelief. You’d never stood up to her like that before and you were starting to regret not doing it sooner. 

Your phone started buzzing- Bucky.

‘Hi.’ You sighed into it.

‘Come to the window.’

Your gaze darted to the far end of your room and you fumbled off your bed. After briefly scanning the skyline, your eyes flickered down to the backyard lawn. Bucky was standing underneath your window, holding his phone to his ear, beaming up at you.

‘Came to ask if you wanted to come out, figured I probably shouldn’t knock on the front door.’

‘So you break into the garden?’ You chuckled.

He shrugged and flung his free arm out. ‘It’s romantic.’

‘Sure is.’ You grinned down at him before remembering where you were. ‘I can’t Buck. One of my mother’s friends saw us together yesterday. I’m locked in.’

‘Man, you’re living with psychopaths.’ You nodded and gave him a disheartened smile. ‘Look, I know they’re your parents, but you really don’t owe them anything. Especially after everything they’ve done.’

His words echoed around in your head, slowly becoming more convincing as you considered them. Before you could respond, the light from the room below you switched on and Bucky was immediately illuminated with bright yellow light. Without missing a beat, he sprinted towards the fence and vaulted into next door’s garden. You heard a breathy ‘I’ll see you soon babe’ through the phone before he hung up.  

Your father ran out of the back door, pretty quickly deciding not to give chase. He looked up at you with anger in his eyes but you didn’t waver. You were already locked in your room for the foreseeable future, what else could he possibly do?

---

He could force you to clean all the floors in the house on your hands and knees, apparently. Scrubbing for hours and hours with him watching over you like a hawk. Your parents had pretty swiftly gone from strict but harmless religious zealots to borderline prison wardens. As soon as he left the room, you pulled your phone out and hammered out a message to Bucky. 

Will you come get me? I need out.

You stared at your screen, willing him to reply before your father came back. After what felt like ages, it finally buzzed.

On my way. Pack a bag.

You jumped up from the floor and sprinted up the stairs to your room, grabbing handfuls of whatever you could reach and shoving it into your backpack. You heard your father scurrying around on the ground floor before stomping up the stairs, shouting your name. Before he made it to your room, the faint rumble of a motorbike engine started in the distance and your heart jumped.

Running into the hallway, you pushed past your father without even looking up at him and scrambled down the stairs. You pulled the front door open and a wall of fresh air hit you, allowing you to take your first clean, deep breath of the day. Since you woke up all you’d been doing was huffing floor-cleaning chemicals.

Bucky came round the corner on his bike and you almost felt like bursting into tears. Waves of relief passed through every muscle in your body and you ran down the front steps to meet him.

You leapt on to the back of his bike, still in your pyjamas, and wrapped your arms around his waist as tight as you could. It felt like you were running entirely on adrenaline. Your parents were screaming your name behind you, but they were quickly drowned out by the roaring of the motorbike coming back to life. 

‘Shit, I’m not exactly dressed for a ride.’ You mumbled into his ear through your heavy breaths. ‘Don’t even have a helmet.’

You felt him vibrate with laughter as he gunned the engine and sped away.

‘Ah, don’t worry, you’ll be fine darlin.’ He raised his arm and flipped off your parents. ‘Only the good die young.’

---

Part Two

---

[cantgetoutofmyheda]

Omg can you write a one shot where Lexa is paid by her college peers to write love letters to their gfs/ppl they want to date. So Finn asks her to write for Clarke and it becomes a constant. Until one day clarke goes up to her and says I know its you

OKAY. So this has been sitting in my asks for like a year. There will be a few (but short-ish) parts to this. And before anyone asks, this is not based off of “The Half of It” ... but here ya go.

---

Letters

PART 1

It was Polis Record’s fault. Lexa’s atrocious week was definitely Polis Record’s fault. Had Titus not been a complete asshat of a manager and dicked the schedule around, Lexa certainly wouldn’t be having this predicament. Had Lexa’s hours not have been cut back, she wouldn’t be where she was. Had Lexa not known that her next paycheck would be half of what it normally was, she wouldn’t be writing a fake love letter to the devastatingly beautiful girl in her Astronomy class. Had Finn Collins not offered her cash to do so, she wouldn’t be writing this letter on his behalf, even though she was the one that’s had an earth-shattering crush on the recipient ever since their Freshmen orientation, four long years ago.

Let’s rewind.

“Titus, are you kidding me?” Lexa huffed at the bald-headed man who was scurrying around the break room like a headless chicken. “You did what?”

“Lexa, listen,” he tried to calm her down. “The schedule will be back to normal before you know it. I had to hire her. There wasn’t another way around it.”

She was mad. No. More than mad, “There was. But you just didn’t have the balls to tell your mistress’ best friend that you already had a full roster of people on your fucking schedule.”

“Can you keep it down!” He hissed. “This is temporary. I’m sorry. I couldn’t dock my cousin, okay? The schedule will even itself back out. You’ll be back to selling these shitty, scratched up vinyls in no time. Ride it out for two weeks, it won’t kill you.”

What he didn’t realize was that two weeks of half-pay because of shitty scheduling could actually kill her. He just didn’t realize that. There was the pressure of doing well in school, that was one thing. But there was also the pressure of doing well enough to keep her GPA high enough to keep her partial scholarship. And then the pressure of her shitty part-time job at the local record store to help make early payments to her student loans so she wouldn’t have to worry about crippling herself into debt once she figured out what to do with a fucking degree in Geology.

“Two weeks,” she warned him as she started to storm out. “This better be fixed in two weeks, Titus.”

Spoiler alert: Two weeks had come and gone, and Lexa was still screwed off of her work schedule.

“C’mon,” Finn pleaded at Lexa’s side. He had managed to weasel his way into the vestibule of Lexa’s apartment building. “I took that writing class with you last year. I know you’re good. I just need one letter. Typed. That’s it.”

She was already on the verge of a massive outburst after her conversation with Titus. The dickwad that he was, managed to screw her hours up for another week, even though he promised he wouldn’t, “This is not a good time, Finn. Seriously.”

“$200.” He stood tall in front of her. “$200 in cash right now, and all you need to do is type up a page of words that will have her vaguely interested in the person who wrote it, and that’s it. $200 right now. If you do this, then I’ll never bother you for anything again.” He scratched the back of his neck, “Listen, I just need a good way in. I can take the rest from there, okay?”

$200 was enough to cover a good portion of what she would be missing out on for the week. $200 was enough to get by. $200 was enough to get her mind to start churning.

“$300 and it’s a deal,” she tried to match his height. She straightened her back and broadened her shoulders as far as she could.

He laughed at the request, “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“You’re the one that needs me,” she reminded me.

He let out a huff and pulled another Benjamin out of his leather wallet and clumped it with the other two. “Fine,” he shook his head as he handed her the wad of cash.

Lexa nodded as she took the money. She buried the pang of guilt she felt into her pocket, alongside the earnings she just made and was ready to make way up the two flights of stairs when she felt Finn grab her arm.

“Hey,” he called out. “Wait a sec. I started a letter already, but didn’t get very far. You can just go off of this,” he handed her a folded piece of paper.

She opened it and read it aloud, “Have you ever felt like you couldn’t breathe? Like the weight of everything you’ve been carrying has amounted to this one moment in your life? Like there’s this burden placed so heavy on your chest that has left your lungs struggling for any ounce of air?”

Finn nodded as the words poured out of Lexa’s mouth. He was more than proud of what he thought was eloquently poetic. Lexa’s look of confusion went missed by him as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Pretty good, right?”

“Finn,” she deadpanned. “It sounds like you just described having the fucking Spanish Flu. I’m not using this. You sound like a serial killer.”

“What?” he yelped. “It’s poetic!”

“It’s a terrifying beginning to what’s supposed to be a love letter,” she deadpanned again. She shook her head as she finally made her way to the flight of stairs, “Give me a few days, I’ll come up with what we need.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fine. But you better make it good.”

She made it good. She made it really fucking good.

Clarke ran her fingertips over the paper as she scanned the words again. She had no idea who had left it for her—she walked into the lecture hall a few minutes early, as she normally did, and saw an envelope pinned to the corkboard with “Clarke” scribbled on it. She looked around, wanted to see if anyone in particular was looking in her direction. It was the usual suspects that always got to class a little bit early. Monty, the one who was always quiet in class but loudest at the neighborhood bar during happy hour. Echo, the girl who always sat in the back row and snoozed as soon as the professor opened her mouth. Finn, the boy who always found a way to have an uncalled for argument with the professor. Lexa, the one who was always in the front row and tended to herself.

Not a single one of them was paying her a piece of mind, so she let her eyes scan the letter one last time before the room filled up.

Clarke,

I was sitting on the lawn behind the library catching up on reading for a class last week. I was skimming through Voltaire’s words:

“Sensual pleasure passes and vanishes, but the friendship between us, the mutual confidence, the delight of the heart, the enchantment of the soul, these things do not perish and can never be destroyed.”

This particular passage struck a chord with me, and it was mostly because when I looked up after reading it, I immediately saw you consoling who I’d assume to be a friend of yours. I’m not sure what had happened, but she looked like she was crying and you showed up with a blanket to sit on, a bowl of fresh fruit, and sat with her and listened intently while she spoke. It was life imitating art, right before my eyes.

Voltaire’s writing is mostly straight and to the point. It isn’t hard to decipher the messages he often tries to relay, but it was most certainly a breath of fresh air to finish that passage to find a parallel to present day. Your actions on that lawn helped me see things a little clearer.

I suppose I just wanted to thank you for that. SO, thank you for being the catalyst for making something in my brain click.

Before I close this letter off, I do have a question for you. And if you feel so inclined to indulge and answer it, you can drop it back into the envelope where you found this one and pin it back to the board.

Has anything happened to you recently that struck a chord? Something that stood out to you, but you haven’t had a chance to dive deeper into it? I’d like to know.

Enjoy your week, Clarke.

Upon tucking the printed note under her laptop, she took another look around the hall, which was now practically full. She moved her computer to the side and pulled a notepad out of her bag. The professor had started her lecture, but Clarke’s mind wandered from the images pulled up on the projector from the Spritzer space telescope as her pen started to move across the page.

Hello,

I believe you’re at an unfair advantage here. You know my name. You know what I look like. Yet I have absolutely no idea who you are. So if you write back to this, I’m hoping you’ll share some insight on the person behind the pen (or keyboard, in your instance).

I’m happy that the interaction you saw helped bring better insight into what you were working on. Coincidentally, the friend that I was with when you saw me is also reading a Voltaire piece for an assignment. I wonder if you’re in the same class?

She’s taking “Romance Studies” as an elective. I tried to convince her that there was no point harping on what was considered to be “romantic” through archaic literary pieces that are now long gone, and replaced with mediocre-at-best Netflix series about teenage love.

It always seemed that with the way things were going in our lifetime… that all “romance” really was, was when two people swiped right on Tinder.

With that said… I guess I can honestly say that your letter is what struck a chord with me. Especially after freshly coming out of that conversation with my friend.

I don’t want to be presumptuous. But it seems that this gesture of yours, whether it was meant to be platonic, or if it was meant to imply a sense of something more, is making me realize that maybe—just maybe—the practice of sharing words on a page isn’t so archaic after all.

-Clarke

She was happy with the end result of what was hurriedly committed to the page. Clarke quickly tore it from her notebook and tucked the loose piece of paper back into the envelope. She scanned her fellow students to see if anyone was watching her. She slunk further into her seat and wondered if the recipient was there, sitting in that very room. Unfortunately for her, the lecture that was being given on the Nebular Theory kept the attention of every other person in the hall, so she quickly reached for her computer to start typing notes on the theory’s premise of how every planet in the system was formed.

A tedious hour later, her fellow classmates started packing up and rushed towards the exit door. Clarke took her time shutting her computer down and tucking things away into her bag. She was suddenly aware that the person who wrote to her—the person she now wrote to—could be in the room watching her to see if she had a written response back.

She waited a few more minutes, and finally deemed it safe when the last few people in the room seemed to be chatting with one another or finishing up straightening their notes from the lecture. With a big exhale, she pinned the envelope back onto the board and made a swift exit.

Lexa felt a tap to her shoulder, which caused her to look up, “What do you want?”

“I think it worked. She put the envelope back!” the excitement in Finn’s face didn’t go unnoticed.

“Okay,” Lexa lowered her head to finish writing out her notes from the class. “Job’s done.”

“I’m gonna go get it so we can read it and figure out what to do next,” he giddily let out before darting out of Lexa’s peripheral.

She let out a sigh of distaste when he came back half a minute later and pulled a chair close to where she was sitting. “Finn, you said one letter. I did it. This is on you now. And if you don’t mind, I need to finish up here,” she raised her hand, showing she was still trying to get some of her notes done.

“Fine, suit yourself,” he propped his feet onto the table in front of them while he silently read Clarke’s reply. “Hmm, Voltaire?”

The author’s name caught Lexa’s attention. She suddenly looked up to where he was sitting, “What about him?”

“I don’t know. Clarke said something about him. That’s the bad dude from Harry Potter, right?” Finn brought his attention back to the letter. “What did our letter even say? You never even showed me.”

He handed Lexa the notebook page with loopy and wide writing on it. The edges were jagged, as if Clarke did the whole thing in haste.

“What do you want me to do with that?” Lexa eyed the piece of paper.

“Read it and let me know if you think she likes me,” Finn shrugged. “But also, why didn’t you put my number or something on it?”

“Because it’ll probably take more than one letter for her to even be open to the idea of you,” Lexa chided in her reply. She let her eyes quickly scan the girlish handwriting and folded the paper back up. “She’s definitely intrigued.”

Finn finally set his feet on the floor as he leaned forward and rubbed his hands together, “Okay, great! So what do we do now?”

“We,” Lexa pointed her pen between the two of them. “Do nothing. You can write another letter and see if she wants anything to do with you, Finn.”

“C’mon,” he nudged her shoulder. “I’ll pay ya for another one. Another $300. But we need an exit plan for when we move this from letters to texting or something.”

“Her reply literally just said that we’ve opened the idea to her that letters are romantic,” Lexa shook her head. “Your take on that was to immediately turn this to a texting conversation?”

He grabbed the letter from Lexa, “What? Where’d she said that? It doesn’t say that, Lexa.” He scratched his head.

Lexa let out a defeated sigh, “Finn. She literally said something like, ‘maybe the practice of sharing words on a page isn’t so archaic’ or something. Did we not just read the same piece of paper?”

“See, Lexa,” he smiled as he patted her shoulder. “This is why I need you. Just one or two more. Same price per letter. I just need a little more help and then I’ll be outta your hair. Promise.”

She took her palm to her forehead and rubbed her thumb into her temple. One more wouldn’t hurt. Mostly because the $300 definitely wouldn’t hurt.

“Fine,” she finally let out. “One more. Give me her letter back. I’ll have our reply ready for this same class next week.”

“Excellent,” he grinned as he handed the piece of paper over to her. “You’re a lifesaver, Lexa.”

She felt anything but that. But at least it meant she’d be able to get by for the next week or two, while Titus still screwed around with her hours at the record store.

[shhhlikeme]

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series: 

Outtake Collection #16:

———————————

A/N: hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii babies!!!!!!!!!! Let’s fucking goooooooooooooo! I’m excited for y’all to read this juicy marathon. As of right now, I am unsure of how many collections it will be but it’s going to be one of the longest marathons ii. Check back every 20 minutes or so if you caught this immediately. Oh and I will be trying again to put my post under a read more but if it fucks up an deletes half the chapter again I am DONE and I TRIED okay??? xo

***ALSO I did not add my taglist to the last marathon so you guys might have missed collections 13-15!!!!***

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

Your Losty Heartbreak and Your Spy Kids Debut 😎🖊📚

Sigh. The curse of being a young adult, I tell ya. 

You are annoyed. 

Yes, two months after the breakup you are still completely heartbroken, even though, yes, it was your genius idea to break up with the love of your life: a man that girls only dream about having as a S/O….

but it was a selfless decision.

Aone Takanobu deserved more, better… than you. That was your rationale.

It’s not fair of you to just accept the perfect man because he was lost enough to lock onto you and not someone on his level. 

While it was a selfless decision , it was still a decision you selfishly regretted because …you were so in love with that man at the time that you did it….

You are….

But you will stifle those emotions so that he can get over you and hopefully see his own worth. 

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be annoyed. Because you were. And at what, exactly? Well:

After dating and breaking up with him, Aone had females constantly approaching him. A/N: Not constantly but it felt that way for you ofc lol

You guess it’s nice that the females of Date Teko gave him the courtesy of one month to get over you but STILL!

Kusa and Katana said that Takanobu’s admirers shot up because everyone witnessed how he treated you, how amazing he was to you, and they fell for that along with his looks.

Your ex’s new admirers are hoping they can get a man that just as inwardly beautiful as he is outwardly and hopefully he will like them, too

In other words: They want what you had. 

And what did you want? 

Well:

You wanted to rip some hair out. Yours or theirs? You’ll leave that up to subjective interpretation. 

EVERY TIME you walked past your ex—that you still love—’s locker there was some brat or another staring up at him in admiration like he was Mount fucking Everest. 

You wanted to scream. 

but isn’t this what you wanted, Y/N? Your Mountain man to find someone else? Your conscience would ask. 

Shut the hell up, conscience. You’d bark back. 

You heard from Katana who was keeping tags on his every admirer that he denied them all dates (which defeats the purpose of your break-up, but you smiled nonetheless) but that Aone did agree to host a study session with a group of girls that apparently begged/needed his help in all subjects before finals. 

give me a fucking break, you and your conscious agreed.

“Ugh. He’s too kind for his own good. Can’t he see those girls just want an excuse to be near him?!?!” You raged about the study session as you peered closely through the passenger side window to make sure that Kusa got inside her house safely. It was 6pm, and you had just heard the news while on the way home from dinner at your favourite restaurant. Katana drove. From her doorstep, Kusa waved at you before closing her door.  

This Saturday, your best friends forced you on your first outing since the breakup, dressing you and even doing your makeup despite your complaining about leaving the house. You had to admit that the food that you did order at the restaurant was decent enough, but really—you would much prefer to still be in bed, flipping through pictures of Aone and Perdu and having a good cry.

Katana rolled her eyes as she stopped at a red light, responding to your initial question. “Ugh. Yeah, they are smarter than we thought. But you’re okay with this, right? I mean this is what you said you  wanted when you broke up with him. You said you want him to find a new girl,”” Katana fished for your true feelings, sounding a lot like your annoying conscience. 

You sulked, picturing other females near the man you are in love with. It made you sick. But, instead, you said, “Of course I am Okay with it. I want him to be the happiest he can be.”

Katana fixed her eyes on the road and bit her tongue so that she wouldn’t laugh. 

You had no idea why you weren’t being fully honest with your friends, but perhaps it made you believe it more the more you said it aloud. “I know Kusa had that assignment to do tonight… and you have that one with Kenji tomorrow, right? so do you want to come over? My mom got me another tub of cookie dough ice cream, and we can rewatch Bad Girls Club again.” You asked Katana in that voice that meant you didn’t want to be alone tonight.

Katana smirked. It was an evil smirk. “I’ll do you one better.”

“Uhhh… Katana….you missed my turn.” Your eyes widened when the cheer captain passed your street, and then passed her own street a few seconds later. “Katana!”

“Word on the cheer team is that Aone-san’s first study session ends in 20 at the local library. I wanna check it out.”

“What?! No you will not—!” You yelled, but you couldn’t help the surge of excitement that flew through your body thinking about seeing that man again. It was always like this.

“—Oh, lighten up— it’s not like I will be joining the damn study session.”

“You won’t?” You asked, surprised.

“Obviously not! Muri is studying something else there, so I need to give her back her notes anyway. It’s only a plus that I’ll get to see how desperate those girls are being with my besties ex. Incognito, kay? I was going to drop you off first and go, but it looks like you don’t wanna be alone. Right?” 

Your pretty best friend waited a few seconds for a response, and when she didn’t get one, she nodded. “Exactly.” She turned into the school’s practically empty parking lot, finding her favourite spot. “So, you can stay in the car. No prob. And I won’t tell you anything about it.” 

You frowned, watching as Katana reached in the backseat for her purse so that she could take out the notes she had for Muri.

“Okay,” you whispered anxiously.  

“I’ll be like, 10 minutes.” The brunette removed her keys from the ignition and stepped outside of her car.

You stayed where you were as Katana’s figure disappeared into the one of the Date Teko’s many entrances. You began to think about what your friend was going to see in there: Aone leaning over the shoulder of pretty Date Teko girls? Helping them with their homework the way he would help you? These girls smelling his fresh icy mountain scent, and leaning in closer, the way you would to him?

Naturally, you began to panic internally.

You pictured the girls twirling their hair flirtatiously and telling him that they didn’t understand when they did, just to keep him hovering over them longer. The same way you used to. 

😤😤😤

Your foot started tapping on its own inside Katana’s car, thinking about how your lost ex-boyfriend wouldn’t even pick up any of it as flirting, ugh. 

Your imagination created even more concerning visuals: more giggling, more oblivious Aone, more shoulder brushing, more oblivious Aone, and then some more….. yeah. Should it really have come as no surprise that you soon found yourself hidden behind a dusty bookshelf in the anatomy section of your school’s library on a Saturday, squatted down and peeping through the slits between books to catch glimpses of your ex boyfriend hosting a study session?!

You blamed your active imagination. 

Behind the dusty shelves, you whimpered because the obstructed vision due to the books covered the white haired beauty perfectly. You held a disgusting book to the right a bit.

“Oh,” your stomach flipped. “He looks so cute.” You put on a 🥺 face when you noticed how utterly adorable a standing Takanobu looked decked out in forest green sweatpants and a matching hoodie with the hood on, and his white hair barely visible. 

Your stomach flips were quickly bumped away by sheer annoyance as you saw him then do exactly what brought you up here, just as you thought: innocently leaning down to help a blonde third-year girl you knew by the name of Sutairu Elyts with a question she was asking. She was smiling way too much for someone doing boring ass school work on Saturday, you noted. Flipping her hair, giggling, and obnoxiously putting her cleavage in Aone’s line of sight. You picked up the dusty library book that was obstructing your view and stopped yourself from tossing it at Sutairu— instead choosing to toss it to the side without a care in the world, trying to get a closer look at how close the girl was going to get while Aone answered her question. 

You were close to literally poking your head through the bookshelf hole completely, when someone to the left of your hiding spot cleared their throat very loudly. You jumped, bumping your head and hissing in pain. 

You removed your head from the bookshelf and looked up at the cause of your newfound migraine.

There stood Katana, her arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face. “You got here faster than I thought,” She reached down to help you up. “Now, come on. None of this amateur shit. You know my style. When it comes to cute boys: make it obvious, and make it count.”

***

Aone was in the middle of teaching Algebra to a group of students (he doesn’t register the fact that they are all conveniently female and all too well dressed for a study session) who had desperately begged him for his help, to the point where the teacher just asked Aone to do it. 

He didn’t mind, the teacher offered him extra credit and everyone he was teaching was nice, they didn’t mind him being pretty silent, plus Kenji fully supported it. So why not? Aone mainly supported it because it was a great distraction from his broken heart and his plan…. 

Or so he thought it would be—before he spotted you in the library.

His heart skipped a beat because he absolutely was not expecting to see you today. His plan wasnt supposed to be put into action until Monday! Trying not to freak out, Aone watched you enter from a side that wasnt the entry way—which is pretty odd—but he shoved the thought to the side anyway because there you were, looking busy.

“Wow.” Takanobu couldn’t stop himself from mouthing when his eyes found you. He mouthed it to himself, of course, but it caused the observant participants in his study group to whip around to see what he was looking at. 

you were dressed pretty casually, coming from dinner with the girls, but Aone hadn’t seen you dressed in anything other than your school or cheer uniforms since your breakup, so it took him by surprise

Not to mention you looked really, really, really good:

Aone watched you scan the bookshelves with Katana—which, if Takanobu was thinking straight— he would realistically call bs on you ever coming to the library for no reason, ESPECIALLY on a Saturday— but you looked too gorgeous to him to care 

Now that he is working alongside you in a project, he has been able to crawl out of depression a bit, simply because your mere presence made him feel whole again, so he basked in the delight he felt any time he was able to see you.

Aone realized that even though he struck out the first time and failed to make you want to be with him, he had nothing to lose if he tried again. 

The premise of Aone’s plan presides on the idea that you are the only girl he wants. Therefore, he just has to prove that to you. Silently. Strategically. 

So that’s the only reason why Aone was able to to shift his focus right now and look away from you, effectively returning to helping his study group and making them forget you even walked in. 

Aone’s mission is to become the man that you want and need, naturally. He will exude more confidence: which is a testament to the fact that he was here right now: tutoring a bunch of girls who have asked him out and he has rejected before because of you,

He wants word to get back to you that your ex is the type of guy who knows how to be just friends with people who had feelings for him. Just in case you wanted to start there with him.

He wants to be your friend. Aone wants to be anything to you but a stranger. It’s the only way his heart stops aching and if that’s all you can give him is a friendship after this project is over, then that is what he would willingly accept!  

Aone forced himself to look back down, getting up to step around the circular table to help with the other girls’ study guides. 

He was able to keep his cool for the most part, but almost lost it twice... 

Once when you dropped a book and bent down to pick it up, showcasing how amazing your butt looked in those jeans. 

Aone cleared his throat to get his own attention back and turned away quickly when he felt a familiar stir under his sweatpants. He stuffed his hands deep in his sweatpants pockets and directed his energy back to the paper in front of him. He erased an answer for one of his students and plugged in the correct one.

The second time Takanobu almost lost his cool was when he heard you make a cute noise and his eyes flicked back up to you. You were trying to reach a book that was too high for you but probably met the height of his ear, your hand above your head, your bodyweight on your toes which gravitationally rose your top up as well, exposing the naked skin on your lower back. 

Aone’s throat went dry and he bit back a groan because the last time he’d stared at that lower back of yours so intensely: you were in a perfect arch, naked, using his dick to pleasure yourself when he told he was on the phone. 

Cue hands in pockets again.

He recalled how that section of your back had a light layer of sweat on it back then, making it glisten as he bit his lip, trying not to moan to the feeling of your tight and juicy walls running up and down his length. Holy, shit, that feel good. 

Aone began thinking about helping you get that book and then fucking you against that bookshelf you were leaning on: holding you up in his arm, the other hand used to place it behind your head as a cushion so that you did not harm yourself when he sheathed his big dick inside your absolutely perfect box, so hot and so delicious, and soo hard not to cum inside within the first minute…..

👁👅👁 Aone’s eyes glazed over to the point where one of his tutor-ies had to snap their fingers in front of his face. 

Highly embarrassed, Takanobu pulled it together ASAP, muttering a quick and sincere apology and thinking only of his plan. Trusting in his plan, he refused to look up in your general direction again. He didn’t trust himself to. 

***

“He barely looked my way….” You sobbed into your cookie dough ice cream later that night, Katana rubbing your back and removing your hair out the tub. 

“Please, Y/N,” Katana begged, absolutely gutted seeing her best friend like this. “Please be honest with yourself and make sure you truly stand by the decision you made.”

———————————

A New Aone and a Perfect Plan? ✅🤩

Mountain Man put absolutely all of his energy into his plan to get you back. His understanding is that you broke up with him because he wasn’t good enough for you, so that means he would just have to make himself good enough for you. While Kenji was completely against Aone trying to get back the girl who broke his heart, Kenji found himself agreeing with the plan since it meant that his best friend would be speaking, playing volleyball, and overall living life again while it was in action. The plan was to essentially fake it till you make it—show you that Takanobu could be the man you deserved. 

The gist of the plan was for Aone to disallow himself to be zombie-like anymore, because you probably didn’t like that. He started spending more time with his friends again, and he was eating again. He was banking on this plan, and if it didn’t work—sure, he’d be crushed for the rest of his life—but at least he’d have no regrets. It wouldn’t be easy, he’d have to speak back to other females kindly letting them down when all he wanted to do was speak to you. He’d have to ignore you when you walked by which meant going against his every instinct, and he’d have to speak to you confidently in class when you two were working on the project and small talk about your lives, when all he wanted to do was lean in and kiss you until he could taste you even when he pulled away. 

Thoughts of you consumed him, still, but they were now hopeful thoughts. He was not going to let his dream girl walk away that easily. 

A/N: GO BABY GOOOOO

You, on the other hand, took this new and confident Aone as a sign that he was getting over you. He didn’t seem very sad anymore, you didn’t see that same dejected and lost eyes you saw when he pushed his best friend away from you. You saw intensity there, like he was now focused on a new task in his life. It confused you, and it hurt like a bitch, because deep down you knew he’d move on soon and you wouldn’t. 

But this is what you wanted, right? 🙄🙄Repeated your conscience, again. You really wanted to fight her. 

“Y/N, you seem out of it today.” Mountain Man stopped writing the outline of the content analysis in class to stare down at you. You could see the concern in his eyes, but you refused to believe it was anything more than the concern anyone would feel for an ex turned friend, and nothing more. 

Embarrassed, you realized that you must have zoned-out, and now this gorgeous man that you wanted to jump was calling you out on your odd behaviour. “W-was I?’ You shook your head then looked down in your lap. “Sorry.” 

Aone placed his pencil down, heart pounding because he wanted that frown of yours to disappear so badly. “Is it about your University Cheerleading tryouts?” He asked kindly, too kindly—if you had any hope of getting over him in the next 5 years. 

You looked up at him, confused as to why he’d even mention that. 

The white haired beauty blushed. “Kogane—he, uh, well…” Aone took a second to look away and collect his thoughts because your big beautiful eyes were making him lose his train of thought. He reminded himself of his plan and collected himself, returning to your gaze. “Kogane-san mentioned to Kenji and I this morning that Kusa needed someone to film her audition tape, because that is the only way cheerleaders are able to send in your tryouts for schools that are too far away, correct?”

“Oh,” You nodded. “Ya—“

Aone continued without missing a beat. “I know Kogane is helping film Kusa’s, and you mentioned yesterday that Katana is out of town for a camp… so, and feel free to say no: but I’d love to offer you my help, Y/N. With filming and editing.” 

There was a pause in which you just looked at Aone with those big beautiful eyes that he thinks about 24/7. 

Afraid that he might be coming onto way too strong, which goes against his super slow plan, Takanobu adds: “As friends. Offer you my help as friend.” 

Your heart sunk, but he looked so sweet asking, not to mention you really did need to get on that tryout instead of pushing it off until you miss it completely and don’t end up going to University—

If you didn’t get a cheer scholarship you were screwed; Aone knew this. Not to mention you would love to see him more; Aone did not know this.

“I’ve taken photography as my elective for the past three years and do pretty well in that class in terms of grades, so I just thought…” Mountain Man was scared shitless, nervously listing off his accomplishments like this was an interview…. mostly due to the fact that you hadn’t answered him yet. Too fast, she can tell you want her back—now she’ll never give you another chance. Failure. Aone opened his mouth to retract his offer, but you interrupted him before he could get the first word out. 

“Um, yes. Sure. I’d love your help, Aone-san. I promise it won’t take long. Thank you so much.” 

Aone nodded even though he was bursting at the seams inside. Mountain Man couldn’t believe it. After  being broken up with because your feelings weren’t there, you agreed to spend non-school related time with him?! The middle blocker couldn’t help but think that you wouldn’t have said yes, had he still been acting like a zombie. Actually, he wouldn’t even have dared asked, if he was still acting like a zombie. Now he gets to help you and see you more than he has since the breakup, and he considers this like a gift! Yes!

“Great. Just tell me where and when you would like to have your audition, and I will be there.” A very cool reply.

You even rewarded him even more with a smile. “How about next Tuesday? Here on the field since it’s getting warm out again? I need to rehearse a lot and that gives me enough time.”

“Understood.” A cool second later, Takanobu had to excuse himself to the washroom so that he could celebrate in silence. He texted his friends and took a deep breath.

Selfishly, Aone also wanted to help you with this particular audition because he wanted you to go to the same University as he and Kenji. He wanted to help you with your future assignments and he wanted to see you everyday. How great would that be? A little torturous, too. But if you were on a cheer team and happy, then: mostly great. 

Baby steps, Mountain Man sighed contentedly. He would get you back in baby steps, and this was the first one. 

He just had to keep following the plan.

———————————

Taglist: @galagcica @chaichai-the-weeb @nairobiisqueen @bisasterrr @juminly @simply-not-the-same @marvelousbakugou @qyuanon 💛

Outtake #17: CLICK HERE!

[wastelandcrown]

logan lark’s adventures in trying to appease his parents

CHAPTER 3: i am actively trying to throw away my shot but it isn’t fucking working

Summary: Logan Lark is a fairly average high school student. By all means, he should be impressing his parents on all grounds. Except...he doesn’t exactly have a social life. So after his parents give him puppy dog eyes, he decides to join the local theatre's youth production. Good grief...His life is about to get weird isn’t it?

Warnings: Potential ooc behavior, Roman is a theatre brat to the highest degree (Sorry Roman stans), Remus being Remus, Anxiety/Panic Attacks, Talks of anxiety/medication, Throwing up (Not detailed)

Notes: This fic is based off an idea from @under-the-blue-moonlight. If you wanna be tagged in chapters, please dm me!! This chapter has a lot of anxiety and anxiety talk, so if you’re sensitive to that please be mindful!! Also lots of Logan and Virgil being friends, which I enjoyed writing! I also apologize for the delay, I ended up hating chapters 4-6 after I wrote them and have just rewritten them! Much more to come dw! 

Pairings: Eventual Intrulogical, Eventual Rociet, Eventual One-Sided Logicality, Platonic Analogical, Platonic DRLAMP

Word Count: 2994

Tagslist: @under-the-blue-moonlight @why-should-i-tell-youu2

By almost all accounts, the next week got easier each day that passed. As Logan got acclimated to the chaos and worked on his notebook, things got much better. Part of this could be attributed to his time spent in the tech booth with Virgil. 

Their goal for the week was to pick their audition song and perfect it so that by Friday they could perform and Thomas could quickly and efficiently cast the show. Their performance was in November, which was absolutely way too soon for Logan but Janus had assured him that it was more than enough time to put on an adequate performance. He took Virgil’s lifeline offer surprisingly often. Sitting in the booth and quietly practicing his audition worked out some of the stress in him. Sometimes Virgil would look up from his switch and make a comment on his performance or suggest something is changed, but aside from that, they were quietly comfortable with each other’s presence amongst all of the chaos that was the rest of the theatre. 

When he left the booth, he was nearly swarmed by the others. It became routine. In the morning, he would spend time with Virgil, Patton, and their friend Emile. Oftentimes conversation was light, and the commentary was helpful and constructive. At lunch, he and Virgil would move to the tech booth and eat there together to get some peace and quiet in before inevitably being bombarded in the afternoon. After lunch, someone (usually Remus) would make their way up to the tech booth and drag them out to the boy’s dressing room. Virgil would sit in the corner and occasionally mess with one of the twins, or hiss at Janus in greeting, and Logan would be worked to the bone. He had decided to audition with Hamilton’s rap from My Shot; Doing the first and second halves, but cutting out the middle. Janus was extremely dedicated to being sure Logan’s performance would make an impression. Logan wanted the opposite, but he couldn’t argue with Janus’ dedication to making the entire show perfect. 

Though, Roman’s attitude didn’t really change that much. For four days, he stayed at a zero. By Friday morning, he actually enjoyed his routine in part. Aside from Roman. Actually, Logan thinks if Roman was completely removed from the situation he may actually be happy with his current predicament. All this has just been practice though. When Friday afternoon rolls around and his audition is getting closer and closer, he tries to focus on the other performers. When it’s Roman’s turn, he pays special attention. Now he sees why Roman has an ego about these things. His audition was very good, and he felt natural on the stage. He would make a wonderful Hamilton, and he really looked the part. Despite him and Remus being technically identical, he looked worlds different. His clothes were ironed perfectly, and he had obviously dressed a bit historically today. His wavy hair was combed to let his face shine through in the stage light, and he was...dear lord, was he wearing eyeliner? Logan shook it from his mind and listened to him sing. Just like the days he’d seen him practice, he was very good. Obviously star material. If he didn’t get Hamilton, Logan would eat a page from his notebook. Figuratively, of course. That would be bad for his digestive system. 

On either side of him are Patton and Virgil. He’s not really focusing on auditions until Roman’s, and after he phases back into his overthinking. He’s not nervous, he would never be nervous. Logically, there is no reason for him to be nervous. He’s just being vigilant. That’s it.

Virgil nudges him, “I can practically hear your thinking. You okay?”

“Oh-Uhm-Yes,” Logan says quietly, staring up at the performer on stage, “I’ll be fine.”

Virgil digs into his pocket and pulls out a little cube, he hands it to Logan with a kind expression, “See if that helps your anxiety.”

“I’m not anxious, there’s no reason for me to be anxious.” Logan scoffs, taking the little cube and running his thumb over the side with a small silver ball. The movement does make him feel a little better. 

Virgil smirks, and flicks his shoulder, “You’re smarter than that, Logan. C’mon.”

He’s right, and Logan knows it. Anxious feelings can be totally irrational and are oftentimes a result of doing something new or stressful. 

If he bombed this, it could be very stressful indeed. Janus would certainly not be happy after he put all that work into helping him. Roman would probably laugh, or make some comment about how he knew this would happen. Why did he even care anyway? He didn’t. He was simply falling victim to a very stupid bout of anxiety. When his name is called, he hands Virgil back his cube and makes his way up to the stage. He takes a deep breath, says he is auditioning for no one in particular, and then is cued in. He performs how he was coached, completely ignoring his anxiety and doing the best he possibly could. When he’s finished, Thomas looks very pleased as the crowd claps. Someone even wolf whistles and Logan is fairly certain it’s Remus. He sits quietly for the rest of the auditions, Virgil passes him back the cube. 

The cast list won’t be out until Monday, so all the kids have the weekend to spend enjoying their summer. Well, if they don’t enjoy theatre. Logan managed to be very productive on his days off. His chart was filled and he indulged in sleeping in on Saturday. For two days he was not checkmated by social interaction at all, and it was a paradise. He managed to burn through four books from the local library, and was working his way through the fifth when his phone went off. He picked it up, not expecting a text from Virgil. 

‘hey. logan i just saw the cast list and...god i really hope you dont get straight-up murdered.’

This had confused him heavily, and then he realized what Virgil might mean and he felt anxiety bubble up into his stomach. 

‘How did you see the cast list? Isn’t that classified until tomorrow?’

‘joan and i are tight, they let me see it.’

That makes sense, Virgil seemed close to Joan and Thomas. Closer than he was, at least.

‘Are you willing to tell me who I am playing?’

‘you have to act shocked tomorrow if i do.’

He started to panic, and he looked up at the sky as if pleading with God to make this a dream or a prank. 

‘Okay? Please tell me I didn’t get Hamilton.’

‘...sorry…’

His phone goes off a number of times after this, but he had to put it down. The lead? He was playing Hamilton? Alexander Hamilton, the leading man of the hit Broadway musical Hamilton?

The bubble of anxiety in his chest welled up and made him so nauseous that he couldn’t speak for fear of throwing up. 

He didn’t expect this, he didn’t even want this. He had been so anxious at the audition, and now he was the lead? What was he going to do? He couldn’t perform half as well as Roman! Why did Thomas choose him in the first place!? The idea of standing on that stage performing with an ensemble made him queasy, but Alexander Hamilton had solos. Songs where he stood alone and faced a crowd of eyes just pouring into him, staring at him. Staring into his soul and seeing that he was just a fake. A hack. The lights would be so bright that he would be able to see into the audience and make out faces. Then, after the audience decided they hated him, he would disappoint Thomas who had picked him to be the lead despite first hearing the songs on Monday. He would be hated by the other performers, a wildly untalented newcomer coming in and taking Roman’s spot as lead-And oh god, how would Roman feel? Virgil was right, Roman was going to kill him. It would be righteous too, Roman deserved it. He’d stolen away the lead role in a show he was passionate about. Why couldn’t the production have been something like Shakespeare? Or, even better, there should have been no production at all!

He manages to stumble his way to his bathroom before he throws up, and he hopes his mother didn’t hear him. His hands are still shaky as he cleans himself up and tries not to think about the play. He still feels nauseous and panicked. He spends thirty minutes calming himself down. His heart rate and breathing had risen substantially, and when he had finally calmed he realized he had even been crying. Managing to pick up his phone again, he looked at Virgil’s messages.

‘logan?’

Then a minute later, ‘logan are you okay?’

A few minutes later, ‘shit are you panicking?’ 

And a minute ago ‘text me back asap’ 

It’s nice to know it was concerning behaviour to Virgil as well. As he thought about his strange spiral of thoughts and forced himself not to think about them all at once, he realized what had just happened. What would continue to happen. 

‘I am okay. I believe I just had a panic attack. I haven’t had one in years.’

‘youve had one before?’ Ah, right. He hadn’t discussed this with Virgil. He hadn’t discussed a lot of his past with Virgil. 

‘When I was in middle school I had joined debate team, but I realized that public speaking gave me terrible anxiety. I used to take medication to help, as the panic attacks happened semi-regularly. Eventually, I stopped doing debate, and I stopped taking the medication as I thought that would be the end of it. I suppose that was reckless thinking, as it may just be a form of performance anxiety overall.’

‘why then, pray tell, are you fucking doing theatre?’ Logan smiles a little at that, he wondered too.

‘I thought it would go away.’ Logan can almost see Virgil rolling his eyes at the comment, ‘I will speak to my mother and get more medication.’

Then he thinks of Virgil's behaviour and asks, ‘Also, and I apologize if I am overstepping, do you not have an anxiety disorder?’

‘yeah ive got regular anxiety and social anxiety. its a bunch of bullshit. why do you think im on tech?’ He feels a little bad for Virgil now, anxiety disorders are not very pleasant. He only has bouts of anxiety situationally, he can’t imagine it being near-constant. 

‘I assumed it was because you enjoyed it. I will go and speak with my mother immediately.’

‘was being sarcastic L. anyway, tell me how it goes.’ Logan stops when he reads this. Tell him how it goes? That is an invitation to message him regularly, right? It sounds like it, or at least to tell him about a problem that has been irking him. That...that is a thing meant for friends right?

‘Are you sure? I was under the impression that our speaking was reserved for the theatre.’

‘i mean, it can be. but we can be out-of-theatre friends too. if you want. no pressure.’

This...this was a very welcome surprise. He supposed that despite his rebound into performance anxiety, making one of his first friends in a very long time could prove enjoyable. Scheduling conflicts aside. 

‘I would enjoy that. I will update you.’

When he asks his mother about going back on his anxiety medication, she immediately jumps into a very motherly mode. She pulls him into a hug, and pets his hair, asking if anything is wrong, if he’s okay, the whole nine yards. As much as any teenager would hate to admit it, he loved his mother very dearly. This affection was...a lot, yes, but he could endure it for her. She was only showing her care. It was late afternoon, so the doctor was still open. Out of some insane luck, they managed to get an appointment that afternoon and he had his medication by later that night. 

‘Virgil, I am happy to inform you that I am now in possession of medication for my anxiety again!’

‘that was super quick, congrats, im happy for you L.’

They talked for much longer, and Logan felt pleased by his gain in mood. Surprisingly, he was even able to talk about the books he had read with Virgil. If Sunday was on his chart, Logan is certain Virgil would get a twelve for today. Even if that broke his scale. 

He made it a point to ask his father to stop and get coffee the next morning. Partially for him, yes. The medication was new to his system again and had made him slightly groggy when it started taking effect. Though it was partially to get a “thank you” gift for Virgil. He had asked what kind of coffee he liked the previous night when they had talked, and ordered his favourite. He offered to pay for his and Virgil’s coffee, but his father simply shrugged.

“You’ve had a hard week, I’ll buy it for you.”

He smiled softly, appreciating his father’s kind gesture more than he would ever say out loud. When they arrived he even gave him a hug, which was hard with two coffee cups but he made it work. 

Before entering the auditorium he took a deep breath, and reminded himself that everything was going to work out. Which may be a lie, but he would have to enter to find out wouldn’t he? With a push, he made his way in. He regretted it almost instantly. He could hear Roman yelling backstage, probably having seen the cast list. To be fair, Logan didn’t know who Roman was cast as, but he hopes it wasn’t all too bad. Quickly, he manages to avoid any kids who are in the auditorium seats and slinks his way up into the tech booth. 

“Good morning, Virgil.” He says, setting down Virgil’s coffee in front of him. 

Virgil looks surprised, “Morning, is this for me?” 

“Who else would it be for?” Logan asks, making Virgil smirk. 

“Thanks, you should hurry down and look at the cast list though. Roman might rip it to pieces.” 

Logan nods and hurries out, but makes the decision to leave his drink with Virgil in case of any...emergency. 

Ducking into the backstage area, he finds Patton trying to calm down Roman, who is very very angry. Remus is laughing again, but Logan doesn’t know what is so funny about his imminent demise. Janus is the first to notice his presence and gives him a sympathetic nod. 

“Patton, he hadn’t even heard of Hamilton until a week ago! What kind of lead even is that!?”

“Look, I don’t understand it either, but when Thomas gets here you can talk to him! I’m sure Logan is going to be shocked when he gets…” Patton had noticed him and was now staring, “here…”

Roman notices and turns on him and shoves the cast list into his face, “Look at this, Logan! You! You are playing Hamilton! Are you happy!?”

Logan sighs deeply, taking the list and looking it over, “Not in the slightest if that makes you feel any better.”

“That actually somehow makes me feel worse!” Roman shouts then sits down in one of the backstage chairs to pout. 

Janus holds back his laughter, “Wow Logan, this is totally not hilarious at all, Roman should totally be pouting like a little kid and throwing a fit.”

“Guys! Seriously! It’s not a bad thing! Logan’s audition was amazing!” Patton says as cheerfully as usual and walks closer to Logan to point at the cast list, “Look, I’m playing Eliza! That’s super awesome! We’ll be doing a lot of scenes together so I hope we can become better friends!”

Logan just nods, going back to reading. Him as Hamilton, with Roman as his understudy. Along with being his understudy, Roman was going to play George Washington. Logan liked George Washington’s part, and though he didn’t understand his being Hamilton, he’s glad Roman got a large role. Janus would be playing Aaron Burr, which made a lot of sense. Janus would be wonderful as Burr. Patton, as he already said, would be playing Eliza. This was...a bit of a problem, the more Logan thought about it. Patton would be playing his love interest. He...he would think about that when it mattered more. Remus would be playing King George, which Logan was glad about. Remus seemed to really want to play the villain. Though Remus’ name was next to another character’s name as well. Maria Reynolds. Remus Grimm playing King George and Maria Reynolds. He would be in a scene where Remus would have to actively seduce him. 

Just as he started to wrap his head around this, Remus slung an arm over his shoulder. 

“Ain’t it just great that I get to be a monarch and a whore!? I, personally, couldn’t be happier. Make money, get dick, I always say!” Remus says excitedly. 

Logan chokes on his own spit, and has to cough a bit before he can reply, “I can see how the seduction angle appeals to you.”

“It won’t appeal to me if you get sick and Roman ends up Hamilton!”

Logan visibly cringes and Remus chuckles, “So you better not drop out or something, dork! I can do a lot of gross shit but acting out the seduction of my twin brother is way too gross.”

Thinking for a second, Logan turns to look at Remus, who is smiling at him. His teeth are so sharp. His eye shadow is bright violet and a mess. He really does look like he had recently been at a rave. 

“I’ll be sure not to disappoint you, Remus.”

[thetravelerwrites]

Ebert and Rings: A Meeting by Chance (Lemon)

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Male Human/Male Tiefling Additional Tags: Exophilia, Tabaxi, Tiefling Content Warnings: Sex, Gay Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex Words: 4802

While Ebert and Rings are on a job to find incriminating evidence against their employer's rival, the cross paths with a man Ebert once attended school with. Jilted and angry, Ebert confronts him. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

“I hate this thing!” Rings hissed as Ebert took her hand and helped her down from the carriage. She was fussing with the bodice of the ball gown she was wearing. It was bright gold with blue embellishments to accentuate the colors of her fur, complete with matching jewelry. “Why can’t I wear something slutty?”

“Because this isn’t the time nor the place,” Ebert said, wearing a finely-tailored suit of moss green that complemented his hair and skin tone, with suitable finery and a beautiful cane for his limp. Ebert’s clothes and Rings’ dress were the down payment for their current job, which was infiltrating the manor of a local noble to find evidence that he was accepting illegal goods from their employer’s competing company. The party was an excellent opportunity to snoop around.

“This is the perfect time and place!” She argued as the two of them approached the entrance to the grand hall. “Who’s going to notice you poking around in this crotchity old fart’s study when these are on full display?” She cupped her bosoms and jiggled them.

“Stop it!” Ebert hissed. “We’re supposed to be blending in!”

“Well, forgive me if I’m not exactly the belle of the ball,” She sniffed. “I grew up poor and begging, so I’m not used to kissing the asses of the nobility.”

“Then just smile and keep your mouth shut!” Ebert said as he feigned a delighted smile while entering the main ballroom.

“Chauvinist,” Rings muttered, and Ebert growled through his teeth.

The ballroom was less grand and more gaudy; it was over-decorated with massive, gauzy ribbon streamers and silk flowers spilling out over every surface. The walls were covered in poorly-painted frescoes of busty women. Ebert didn’t know a person could be so rich and still have such awful taste.

“See?” Rings said, pointing at the walls. “Slutty would have been fine.”

“Rings, please,” Ebert said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

As he was looking around, taking in the… unique decor, a face at the head of the room caught his eye, and he went pale.

“Your face looks like you’re constipated, what’s wrong with you?” Rings asked.

“It’s him,” Ebert said in an intense undertone. “The little shit that dared me to go into the forbidden library! The one who said he’d repay me in sex!”

“Ooh, where?” Rings said, perking up. “I want to see the legend up close.”

“Near the ice swan. The one with the blackish hair and horns like a prong buck.”

Rings gawked, seeing a tall, slim figure in fine, dark blue sorcerer’s robes with silver embellishments far more tasteful than his surroundings. His eyes were like coins, bright copper with no pupils. His skin was a red-brown russet color, his complexion smooth and flawless. His double-pointed horns and split hooves were brown-black, as was his long, straight hair. He was still young-looking and beautiful in the face, much to Ebert’s dismay; he couldn’t deny that his old nemesis was still devastatingly attractive, dammit.

Well, Ebert wasn’t a schoolboy anymore, and he wanted to give this little shit a piece of his mind.

“What are you doing?” Rings asked insistently. “This isn’t what we came for!”

“We can take a minute for this,” Ebert said with determination. “This… boy is going to hear what I have to say.”

“Isn’t he older than you?” Rings snickered.

“Shut up, Rings,” Ebert retorted, dragging her behind him.

They walked swiftly up to the dais where the tiefling sorcerer was looking out over the crowd, his face cold and haughty, holding a glass of pale wine.

“Tilvanis,” Ebert said, Stopping in front of him and standing to attention like he was taught in school. “It’s… interesting to see you again.

Tilvanis looked him up and down, taking in his pale countenance and the cane he leaned on. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

“I went to school with a lot of people, that tells me nothing,” Tilvanis said dismissively.

“Ebert,” He snarled. “My name is Ebert. I was expelled, remember? Well, I was arrested, more accurately, because of you.”

“Ahhh,” Tilvanis said. “The dead boy. Why exactly did you reanimate that poor girl again? Angry that I wouldn’t sleep with you, so you decided to make yourself a girlfriend?”

“You--!” Ebert felt himself about to implode, but Rings’ hand, specifically her claws, dug into his wrists. “You’re nothing but a pompous twat!” Ebert spat, though he still kept his voice down. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself and jeopardize the job over this smug rube. “You always were! I don’t know what it was I ever saw in you!”

“What’s not to see?” Tilvanis smirked. “I’m well-bred, rich, and handsome. You think you’re the only person I’ve toyed with? Please. I slept my way through most of the nobility in this region. My employer is an old lover, in fact. How else do you think I achieved my position so young? I was just as passionate about advancing my station as I was about learning magic. And look where it’s gotten me.”

“A servant to a man with the worst taste on the continent?” Rings asked.

Tilvanis narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps you should have followed my example,” He said, clearly still talking to Ebert but glaring at Rings. “You wouldn’t be cavorting around with…” His lip curled. “Lesser castes.”

Rings began to growl, the feral one from the back of her throat.

“What’s all this, what’s all this?” The noble of the manor asked, coming up on Tilvanis’s elbow. “Friends of yours, Tilvanis?”

“I wouldn’t call them that, no, my Lord,” Tilvanis said. “This is an old classmate of mine, and his…” He raised an eyebrow at Rings. “…guest.”

Rings sneered at him.

“Ah! So you’re both sorcerer’s then?” The noble asked.

“No, my Lord,” Tilvanis stated. “I’m afraid my…” Tilvanis certainly liked his meaningful pauses, didn’t he? “…friend here was expelled for gross incompetence.”

“That’s not…” Ebert began, but he stopped himself. Admitting what he was expelled for was a crime in and of itself, and Tilvanis knew it. His smirk said so. “…not accurate.” He finished. “I am, in fact, still a sorcerer. I left to pursue alternative scholarly opportunities. My education has been more hands-on and proactive than traditional academic avenues would have allowed.”

“Interesting,” The nobleman mused. “I wonder how traditional schooling would fare against self-discipline. Perhaps a demonstration would be in order.”

“Oh, my Lord, I don’t think--” Ebert began, but Tilvanis interrupted him.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, my Lord,” Tilvanis said with a smug smirk.

“Excellent,” The nobleman said. He waved the band to silence and clapped his hands to draw the attention of the room. “Welcomed Guests!” He said, his voice echoing around the hall. “My personal sorcerer and his associate has agreed to a duel for our entertainment! Please clear the floor!”

People immediately began dividing into two sides, parting the sea of bodies until a large space was cleared.

Ebert took Rings by the arm and pulled her close, whispering in her ear.

“Use this distraction,” He said. “Find what we came for so we can get out of here.”

“Don’t get too turned on,” She said. “I know fighting gets you hot.” She then escaped into the crowd before he could respond. He could only glare after her.

Ebert and Tilvanis faced each other and bowed before stepping out onto the floor, as was tradition.

“This is reckless,” Ebert whispered as they bowed.

“If you’re as educated as you claim, you should be fine,” Tilvanis said as he rose.

“What about these people?” Ebert said as they both turned and stepped down from the dias and walked to the center of the room. “Don’t you care at all about them getting hurt?”

“Why would I?” He replied. “Do you? The Ebert I knew didn’t care about anyone, especially strangers.”

“Apparently, you didn’t know me all that well, it seems,” Ebert said.

“True,” Tilvanis said. “Nor did I care to.”

The two of them reached the center of the room, faced each other, bowed again, and walked five steps away from each other. During the few seconds he had, Ebert tried to remember Tilvanis’s dueling style. He tended toward flash rather than substance, erring to startle and scare rather than harm, though he wasn’t above a cheap shot if he thought he was genuinely threatened. His strong suit was making an impression.

Ebert had become more aggressive in his spell casting since travelling with Rings. Typically, when he casts a spell, someone was trying to kill him, so he usually cast with the same intent. He had to be mindful to play defensive out of fear of actually hurting someone.

As he turned, he instinctively cast Ward Wall from his cane, closely avoiding a fireball to the head. The line of ghostly, pearlescent people that made up the wall shielding Ebert drew a gasp from the crowd, and Ebert silently cursed himself. Being an outlaw on the run and working dangerous and sometimes illegal jobs, he was far less concerned about the type of magic he used, but in places like this, full of nobility and delegates, he had to be far more careful.

Tilvanis was smirking at the other end of the dueling space as he dispelled the ward wall easily and sent an ice spike toward Ebert’s head. “What’s the matter, my old friend?” He asked. “Did you forget basic etiquette? Where’s your fight? Where’s your spark? Where’s your love for the game?”

Ebert didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, punched out as fist, turning the spike to snow, and sent an acid serpent streaking through the air, which broke into three when Tilvanis tried to dispel it, causing one of them to catch him in the side. Tilvanis hissed and blasted an orb of radiant light around himself, dissolving the serpents.

Now he was angry, and Ebert could tell. Ebert remembered school with Tilvanis; any slight failure was enough to send him into a fit. Ebert used this to his advantage. He sent a wave of invisible heat blasting into Tilvanis’s eyes, blinding him, and then shot a blast of cold air right into his chest, knocking him backward.

As Tilvanis scrambled to get back to his feet, Ebert rushed him, catching him in a light lasso that completely immobilized him and pinned him to the ground.

“This isn’t a game for me, Tilvanis,” Ebert whispered to him, pulling him close by the scruff of his robe. “I don’t play to win. I play to survive. That makes me much more dangerous.”

A look of anger, fear, and another emotion that was harder to recognize chased themselves across Tilvanis’s face.

“I concede,” He said loudly. The crowd groaned disappointedly but clapped appreciatively for Ebert. Looking around, the nobleman who had insisted on the duel did not look happy.

As the nobleman made his way over to the two of them, Ebert held up a hand.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” Ebert said. “I fear I may have injured your personal sorcerer. I shall attend to him.”

The nobleman looked annoyed, but nodded shortly, turning on his heel and walking off in a huff.

“Let me go!” Tilvanis hissed.

“You’ll thank me for this later,” Ebert said, leading him by the lasso out of the room. “Is there a free room near here?”

“Take me to my room,” Tilvanis sighed in defeat. “Down this hall and to the right. Though, thanks to you, it may not be mine for much longer.”

“Wow, it really doesn’t take much to knock you off your high horse, now does it?” Ebert said as he walked.

“Are you going to gloat all night?” Tilvanis asked.

“I might,” Ebert said, opening the door to an opulent bedroom full of purple silk and dark wood furniture. “Considering what you said to me before I left school, and the cold reception I got from you this evening, I think I’ve earned a little bit of gloating.”

“I don’t even remember what I said to you back then,” Tilvanis admitted, sitting carefully on the edge of his bed, holding his side and wincing.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Ebert said, kneeling next to the bed.

“What are you doing?” Tilvanis said as Ebert began to prod his wound.

“Sit still, I’m a physician,” Ebert replied vaguely.

“Since when?”

“It’s been ten years, Tilvanis. Some of us haven’t been resting on our laurels or fucking our way to the top. Now hold still,” Ebert said through his teeth, jerking Tilvanis into a straight-sitting position. Tilvanis grunted but didn’t fight. “It’s mostly a flesh wound, but it needs treatment. Take off your robes.”

“What?” Tilvanis screeched.

“Oh, don’t be a pearl-clutching princess, just take off the robes,” Ebert returned.

“I don’t want to.”

Ebert grabbed him by the collar and shook him slightly. “Take. Off. The. Robes.”

Tilvanis gulped and acquiesced. As he did so, Ebert saw a black collar circling his neck with a large gold ring on the front. He was otherwise unclothed. Ebert said nothing and tried not to stare. He was still as… lithe well-built as he had been in school.

“Lie on your side,” You instructed him. “I’m going to draw the acid out, otherwise it won’t heal properly.”

“If you say so,” Tilvanis said offhandedly, though he was watching with a concerned expression.

Ebert swirled his finger over the wound as if stirring a drink, then pinched his fingers and pulled up, and a small stream of shifting green sifted up and out of the wound. With a casual flick of his hand, Ebert swatted it into the night-side table, melting a streak in the wood.

“Hey!” Tilvanis protested.

“Oh, don’t fuss,” Ebert tutted. “You live in a palace of impermanence. It’s just a piece of furniture.”

“It’s a piece of furniture that cost an exorbitant amount of gold!” Tilvanis retorted.

“Pfft,” Ebert replied. “Unless it’s actual gold, I don’t care for it. Now stop talking, I’m almost done.”

As combative and abrasive as Tilvanis was, he certainly seemed to enjoy following orders, for he shut his mouth immediately when Ebert told him to. Ebert sat on the bed next to the wizard and ran a finger over the wound, using his magic to weave the skin back together.

“I’ll be bruised,” He said. “But it shouldn’t reopen. Just try not to be an ass to another person better at magic than you while also less concerned with their personal safety.”

Tilvanis grunted in annoyance, but didn’t respond.

“Lay on your stomach,” Ebert said. “I’m going to put a salve on your back. You took a hard fall and it’ll bruise badly otherwise.”

“You’re pushing your luck,” Tilvanis said, rolling over.

“Who’s luck? I’m treating you. It seems like you’re getting the better end of the deal. I should have just left you on the floor to your master’s mercy.”

“Don’t call him that!” Tilvanis snapped. “He’s my employer, not my master.”

“What’s the difference?”

“To me? There’s a big difference,” Tilvanis replied. “I have no loyalty to him. He’s a pimple of a man who will likely drop me from his employ after my failure tonight. A master is someone you pledge your life to, someone who wouldn’t throw you out for the slightest disappointments.”

“Yes, well, that’s something I know all about,” Ebert said.

There was a stony silence after this while Ebert massaged the salve into the muscles of Tilvanis’s back.

“I lied, you know,” Tilvanis piped up after some time. “When I said I didn’t remember what I’d said to you at school. I do remember. I won’t apologize for it, but… I will admit that I was perhaps too harsh. I was… angry.”

“Hmm,” Ebert said. “I won’t say I forgive you, but I will say that I don’t blame you. For what happened afterward, I mean. I got myself expelled and on the wrong side of the law myself. I could have seen those books and simply left the library, never having done the experiment and saving myself ten years of grief. But…” He sighed. “I also wouldn’t have the life I have now, which is something I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. A life you likely wouldn’t see any value in.”

“Sounds like you owe me, then,” Tilvanis said.

“Hah,” Ebert laughed sourly. “I said I don’t blame you, but I’m not going to thank you, either. You were a stuck up piece of shit then, and you’re still one now. Though, I suppose you got your personality honestly. I can’t imagine what you family must be like, if this is how you turned out.”

“You’re an asshole,” Tilvanis said with his eyes closed.

“So the pot calls the kettle,” Ebert retorted. “I’m done. You can redress, if you like.”

“Hmm,” Tilvanis said, sitting up. Ebert couldn’t help but notice that his cock was slightly erect, but he attempted not to react. Tilvanis seemed to realize, despite Ebert’s efforts. “You were very attracted to me back then, weren’t you?” He asked.

“What does that matter now?” Ebert asked, packing up his salve.

“You could still have me, if you wanted,” Tilvanis said, leaning back and widening his legs.

Ebert sighed irritatedly. “And what’s in it for you? You don’t do anything for free.”

“You’re right,” Tilvanis said, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. “I may have lost to you this evening, but I’m not an imbecile. I know why you’re here: you’re attempting to ruin my employer’s business. He’s been dodging accusations of illegal dealings for years. It’s one of the reasons he hired a personal sorcerer in the first place.”  

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m saying I won’t stop you. I just don’t want to go down with him.”

“You might be fired tonight, anyway,” Ebert pointed out. “That would put you out of the crossfire as it is.”

Tilvanis looked at him with a flat expression. “I don’t want to go down with him and I still want to maintain my reputation as a sorcerer. I’ll need a new position after all of this is over.”

“Even still, I’m not interested,” Ebert said. “You’ve given me no reason to change my mind.”

“Are you sure?” Tilvanis said sultrily, sliding his hands up Ebert’s legs over the fabric of his very expensive suit. “I could give you pleasure you’ve never experienced.”

Ebert snorted. “You haven’t met Reverence,” He said, stepping out of Tilvanis’s reach.

“Command me,” Tilvanis said, slipping onto his knees at Ebert’s feet. “Tell me what you want. Just for tonight, be my master, and I’ll give you everything you need to ruin my employer.”

“I don’t need your assistance,” Ebert said. “Rings is, at this moment, collecting whatever evidence we need to ruin your employer. She’s likely got it and gone already.”

Tilvanis shook his head. “There are protections--”

Ebert stopped him with a raised hand. “That’s one of the first bits of magic I taught her, undoing protections over property. She’s more than capable of doing this part of the job herself, which is why she’s off on her own. She seems to think I’ll enjoy my time with you, though nothing so far has proven her right. I don’t need you.”

“What can I do to make you need me?” Tilvanis mewed, sitting like a good puppy waiting for treats.

Ebert contemplated the man at his feet with some dubiousness. He certainly wouldn’t have expected this from Tilvanis, not with his need to be on top of things and in control of every situation. He found it intriguing. On a hunch, he opened the drawer in the night table. Sure enough, there was a long, thick, golden chain with a clasp on one end and a handle on the other.

Ebert took the chain, attached the clasp to the ring on Tilvanis’s neck, and tugged it sharply upward. Tilvanis moaned slightly, his length bobbing in his lap, and he stood up. Ebert looked him up and down, examining Tilvanis’s body carefully, drinking in the slight form and impeccable skin. He flicked his fingers, and the door to the room locked. No key on earth would open it until another magic user dispelled the magic holding it closed.

“Undress me,” Ebert said.

“Yes, sir,” Tilvanis said. Ebert kept a tight hold on the lease as Tilvanis went around and slowly stripped him of his coat, waistcoat, shirt, undershirt, pants, and finally undergarments. Tilvanis seemed to take note of Ebert’s scars, but said nothing about them.

Tilvanis zeroed in on Ebert’s nipples, licking and sucking with his mouth and played with the other with his fingers. Ebert enjoyed it for a few moments before winding his fingers into Tilvanis’s hair and snatching him back.

“Did I tell you to do that?” He asked.

“Forgive me,” Tilvanis said. “What can I do to please you?”

“Mmm,” Ebert hummed. He moved onto the bed, pulling Tilvaris by the chain onto the bed after him, and lay on his back, propping his cane against the headboard. “There now,” He said. “This is more appropriate. Now you can continue.”

Tilvaris began kissing Ebert on the neck and collarbone, biting at his earlobes and jaw. As he moved in to kiss Ebert on the mouth, Ebert stopped him by putting a hand around his throat and putting enough pressure to hold him at bay.

“No, no,” He said, slowly releasing his grip. “You have to earn that. Make me feel good first.”

“Yes, sir,” Tilvanis said. His tongue, which was strangely dark in color and forked, slithered out from between his lips, and he licked Ebert slowly down his body, groping and caressing as he went. Ebert watched him, getting hard as he moved further down, his tip brushing the skin of Tilvanis’s abdomen as he inched downward.

Tilvanis kissed Ebert’s inner thighs and bit them, hard enough to leave faint fang marks, but not enough to hurt. He sucked the skin into his mouth, flicking his bifurcated tongue over it, before letting it out again with a pop, leaving a red-purple mark. He did this a dozen times before sitting up on his knees and looking at Ebert expectantly.

“Suck it,” Ebert commanded, yanking the lease forward.

Tilvanis jolted and smiled, his sharp teeth glittering behind his lips. “Gladly.” He bend down, running his tongue up and down Ebert’s tip, laving the head around and around, before slowly pulling Ebert’s cock into his mouth. Ebert groaned and lay his head back on the pillow, grabbing one of Tilvanis’s horns and moving his head up and down. Tilvanis’s hand reached down to fondle and gently squeeze his balls, pausing momentarily to lick up the line from bottom to top.

Ebert had to admit, he was certainly good at this. No wonder he’d gotten so far. It clearly wasn’t his magical talent. No matter, a person can be talented elsewhere.

“Do you have something?” Ebert asked.

Tilvanis knew what he meant. “In the drawer where the lease was.”

Ebert opened it and reached in, pulling out a vial of oil. He handed it to Tilvanis.

“You know what to do,” Ebert said.

“Say it,” Tilvanis said, dangling the vial.

“Put that on and fuck me,” Ebert replied.

“Yes, master.” Tilvanis uncorked the vial, which smelled floral, and dabbed some on his fingers. He began gently massaging it into Ebert’s pucker, moving his fingers in and out, around and around, while stroking him slowly at the same time.

“That’s enough,” Ebert said. “Fuck me like I told you to.”

Tilvanis poured a generous amount of the nice smelling oil onto his hand and spread it over his dick thoroughly, then lined himself up and pushed himself inside Ebert.

“Harder,” Ebert said. “I’m not going to split in half.”

Tilvanis grinned again and slammed himself into Ebert, the skin slapping sinfully. He stopped, then slammed again, making Ebert grunt.

“Be specific, master,” Tilvanis teased. “How am I to know what you want if you don’t tell me explicitly?”

“Don’t make me sick Rings on you! She’ll show you how it’s done!” Ebert said, grabbing Tilvanis’s waist and moving him. “Fuck me until I can’t walk!”

Tilvanis went on at full speed, smacking against Ebert’s body hard, anchoring his hands on Ebert’s hips and driving into him like a hammer into a nail. The grunting and groaning echoed throughout the chamber, and Ebert wondered if it was magically soundproofed. He hoped so.

He could feel himself getting closer to his peak. Just as he felt the wave crashing into him, he pulled Tilvanis down and kissed him on the mouth, moaning his climax against his lips.He spurted warmth over both of their stomachs and Tilvanis moved even faster, building to his own peak soon after, filling Ebert up, until he finally collapsed on top of Ebert.

The two of them lay there until Ebert finally wheezed, “I assume there is a washing chamber connected to this room?”

“Of course there is, I’m not an animal,” Tilvanis said. He lifted his head and looked off to the left. “It’s through that door.”

“Help me get clean, then,” Ebert said.

“Is that a command?” Tilvanis asked.

“What do you think?” Ebert retorted.

Tilvanis snorted and lifted Ebert up with ease. Water was already filling the large, in-floor tub of marble. Tilvanis laid him into the warm water, then jumped in after him, splashing him.

“Twat,” Ebert said, wiping water from his eyes. After a moment, he raised his arm and drew some sigils in the air, summoning two invisible servants. “Wash us,” He commanded, and the servants splashed into the tub, taking up sponges and began to clean the two of them.

“Now this is a nice idea,” Tilvanis said, laying back and allowing the invisible servant to scrub his body.

“Not a corpse-fucking idiot, am I?” Ebert said sourly.

Tilvanis inhaled a big breath and sighed. “I do regret saying that. And I regret what happened afterward. Perhaps if I had taken more of an interest, asked you what was happening, I could have dissuaded you from the mistake you made.”

“It was a mistake at the time,” Ebert said. “Though I cannot say I see it as such now. It’s why my life is the way it is. I have a home, a life, love, and even children.”

“You have children?” Tilvanis laughed. “My goodness, you certainly have changed.”

“Change isn’t a bad thing, you know,” Ebert said. “You might benefit from budging a little.”

Tilvanis snorted. There was a knock at the door.

“That’ll be Rings,” Ebert said.

“How do you know?” Tilvanis asked.

“The pattern of the knock,” Ebert replied. “Come in, Rings!”

“You locked the door magically,” Tilvanis said.

“I told you,” Ebert replied as she waltzed in, carrying several documents. “Unlocking magically locked doors was one of the first things I taught her.”

“Having fun, I trust?” She said. “Oooh, bathtime. Definitely fun.”

“Want to join us?” Ebert asked. “You should give Rings a try, Tilvanis. You’ve never met a woman as dominant as she is. If you want a master, you’re looking for her.”

Rings began to strip down. “Reverence is the master, I just like playing the role sometimes.”

“You’ve mentioned this person before,” Tilvanis said as he took Rings’ hand and helped her down into the bath. Ebert summoned a third invisible servant, and Rings purred happily, laying against Tilvanis. “Who is this Reverence?”

“She’s one of my partners and the leader of the Temple of Fysy,” Rings said as she wiggled in Tilvanis’s lap. “You should visit one day. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

“A temple?” Tilvanis said dubiously. “I’m not religious.”

“Neither are we,” Ebert said. “But Reverence will do things that make you believe in a god, even if it’s her.”

Tilvanis snickered. “Perhaps a visit is in order.”

In the following weeks, Tilvanis’s employer quietly stepped down as head of his company, and Tilvanis stepped in to take over. Rings and Ebert were invited to the party to swear him in, and he tried not to look too smug about it.

Tilvanis did, indeed, make a pilgrimage to the temple and enjoyed all the gifts contained within its walls. He met Reverence, and was just as smitten with her as everyone was. He began making monthly visits to worship and leave donations. Within a year, the temple and it’s village was more prosperous than it had ever been.

Ebert and Tilvanis became friends, and sometimes lovers, and funded many jobs for Rings and Ebert. Though their reunion was tense, their lives were re-entwined, and Ebert finally felt truly fulfilled.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience!To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[harveywritings92]

Someone flirts/asks you out in front of them: Ezio,Connor,Jacob,Arno

Ezio Auditore [modern Au] : You were a temporary sub for the local high-school while the math teacher was on early maternity leave, due to getting  sick...And due to your young and pretty appearance, these over hormonal charged teens were smitten with you! Well the boys are anyway...

the girls on the other hand, were very passive aggressive towards you! in their young developing minds they saw every little praise or smile as you hitting on or attempting to steal their crushes. So, of course you'd find someone had vandalized your desk or left a message on your blackboard calling you a very colorful name, of course one of the boys would jump over their desk in a heartbeat to clean up the mess or tattle on whoever did it.

Needless to say You found the whole thing hilarious! You thought if the girls were upset now, they'll be royally destroyed once they find out who you're married to! that was until Travis transferred to your class He was tall, blond, and had blue eyes and was very good looking...Well at least to a teenage girl's perspective, To you? he was another pimply faced teen with a crush, He'd often offered to help with carry boxes, clean up after class, and was always volunteering to get something for you.

His flirting wasn't subtle either more then often you have to duck or walk around to avoid him touching you, since that was big no-no in the school [unless he was dying you can't touch him and vice versa] that and he started asking for your number and address to hang out, You shot him down everytime, even made sure to mention your husband and flashed your ring a few times, but the blond was persistent! then the rumor started that Travis was planning to ask you out after class was floating around... Maybe he'd get the hint if he saw you with Ezio?

3rd pov 

Y/n pretty much clung to her husband after explaining the situation to him, Ezio downplayed at first thinking she was just overreacting, "He's a kid Mi Bella, they get crushes all the time!" He said trying to calm her nerves, But seeing how shaken up his wife was, caused his protective instincts to go on high alert! right as her class was ending everyone who had heard what Travis was planning stuck around curious to see where it goes.

Y/n was on edge Ezio was late and Travis was eagerly waiting for the bell, which went off as she felt a bead of sweat fall of her chin, she watched the blond teen get up Y/n tried not to cringe as he approached her desk. "Hey, Miss L/n." purred leaning on her desk she wince hearing his voice crack a little.

"Hi Travis." Y/n said trying to back away from him trying not to gag he was wearing way too much axe. "I wondering if you wanted to go out, maybe see a movie or something." he muttered looking her up and down before the y/hc teacher could open her mouth a smooth Italian voice answered "Well it depends what are we going to watch?~" Travis jumped back in shock that it wasn't Y/n's cute voice answering him and saw Mr. Auditore standing in the doorway large bouquet in hand. 

"Wh-what?" Travis sputtered out confused as the Italian teacher walked over to Y/n's desk handing her the flowers kissed her on the cheek, then turned to the gobsmacked teen. "I said what are we..." he gestured the three of them. "You, me and my wife. what are we going watch? Hopefully nothing R Rated or keeps you up passed your bedtime, it's a school night after all." Ezio said in a matter of factly way, But it was obvious he was teasing the boy causing the other students to snicker, once they got over their shock, Travis's face turned red with embarrassment. 

When he heard Miss L/n was actually a Mrs. he pictured some plain nerdy looking dude... Not Ezio frickin' Auditore! the Italian history teacher and to quote the girls "The sex-bomb of [School-name] high!" His ego deflated immediately crush fucking over! he can't compete with that! Travis left the class with his tail between his legs... 

Connor Kenway [Cannon Time]: [This the albino Reader from my Connor Oneshot]

Otsi'tsa was looking trough some documents an apprentice had pocketed from a templar envoy, she used a candle to see in there was hidden message or code was written in invisible ink, when she heard footsteps coming up the steps to the library, she briefly glanced up to see the newest Novice to join the creed standing in the door watching her. 

The albino cocked brow at the young man curiously. "What can I do for you John?" she hummed as the man glanced around to make sure they were alone, He hadn't noticed Connor obscured by the book shelf. "Miss Y/n I have to confess something." He put his hand on her shoulder the native woman tensed, and slowly looked at the black haired novice like.

 *what the hell, why are you touching me?...

He didn't seem to notice her discomfort "What?" She said trying to shrug his hand off. "I liked you for a while now, And I'd like to perhaps court you..." the white haired woman gawked at him in disbelief before finding her voice. "...I..o-oh, I'm sorry." his hopeful expression dropped. "but... I'm already spoken for." Y/n explained confusing the novice farther he hadn't heard of or seen any signs of miss Y/n in courtship with another? "You..With who?" the green eyed man demanded.

A loud bang caused John to jolt, he looked behind him and saw Master Connor standing by the center table; with a stack of heavy books he'd slammed down on the table lips curled into a snarl. "That would be me..." Connor hiss as he scrutinized the novice who still hadn't taken his hand off his woman the green eyed man saw the way his mentor was eyeing his hand on the albino woman's shoulder, the larger man's eyes darkened with a very clear message. 

*Take it off or else I'll rip it off..* 

John withdrew his hand like Otsi'tsa was made of hot iron and apologized before scurrying away as soon he was sure John was gone Y/n was suddenly pulled into tight hug by  Ratonhnhaké:ton He started talking to her in Kanienʼkéha "You wouldn't leave me for a man like John, would you?" He croaked warily the Albino looked at him surprised. "No, never! I made a promise to you, And I intend to keep it."  Her fiancee smirked before suddenly latching his to her collarbone.

She squeaked feeling him nip and suck on a sensitive spot before pulling away from her looking satisfied. "That should tell unwanted guests to back off for a while." He hummed in english giving her a peck on the forehead before setting her down and leaving, Otsi'tsa's whole body had turned pink as she threw her hand over the mark Ratonhnhaké:ton left on her neck.            

Jacob Frye [Modern AU]: [Reader is Bi and the girl is an ex]

"Oh, fuck me sideways!" Y/n groaned in annoyance as Jacob pulled away from her small baby bump; ever since she told he was going to be a father Jacob makes sure to talk to and cuddle her belly every chance he gets, his hazel eyes scanned the park ​​​​​​to see what's got his wife riled up, and saw this fake tanned blond woman looking their way. "Friend of yours?" He asked unsure Blondie didn't seem the type Y/n would associate herself with, the y/hc woman snorted in disgust. "Hardly, that's Vanessa she and I dated for while..." She mumbled knowing Jacob doesn't like discussing exes.

"For how long a while?" the brown haired man pressed. "three years then she ghosted me, found out through a mutual that she had been seeing some rich bloke..."Y/n told him how the blond had gotten married that man who was like thirty years older than them, while just a week before she told Y/n marriage was stupid, the y/ec woman cussed as her ex seem to recognize her. "Turns out she never cared about me, I was just her string along if sugar daddy ever dumped her ass." Jacob looked pretty pissed that someone had the audacity to do such a thing to his wife, and gonna ask if she wanted to go home, but a nasally voice cut in. "Y/n, oh my god! I haven't you been returning my calls babe?" Vanessa rudely pushed herself between Jacob and the pregnant woman. 

"I tried your apartment and some old creeper opened the door." She whined as Y/n cringed bemused. "I move outta that flat six yea-" The blond put her figure over the y/nat woman's lips and shushed her. "That's nice honey, I'm talking now!" she started gave the y/ht the run that her husband croaked and left all his money to his gross kids, the blonds lips curled in disgusted as she mentioned her step children, how dare he?! such selfish asshole then turned to Y/n with her fake smile.

"But I know my little n/n will never do that me.~" she purred trying to kiss her the h/c leaned away from the skinny woman who was confused when she felt something on her stomach and saw Y/n's pregnant belly "Ew, what the fuck is that, Why are you so fat?!" Vanessa demanded in disgust as she shoved her away, luckily the y/nat caught herself before she fell off the bench and Y/n saw Jacob's lips do that little twitch when he's about to fuck shit up.

Before Vanessa could try something else she was suddenly tossed off the bench and she hit the ground with a yelped, then looked up to see a pissed off Jacob holding Y/n bridal style whiles glowering at the gold digging tramp, who was about to demand his name only for him to bark "Shut up!" the blond flinched at his tone as Y/n carefully rubbed her belly. "Now you listen here and you listen well you plastic tart, Y/n isn't your bloody meal-ticket anymore..." He growled enjoying the blonde squirm like a child who just got caught stealing cookies.

"She moved on married and happy..." His lips formed thin as people were watching. "And if you or anyone wants my wife, they'll have to go through me." he hissed before carrying Y/n out of the park and away from her toxic ex who just sat there gawking at the man's back, Jacob carried her all the way to their car he opened the backseat and climbed in with her still his arms and closed the doors and just held her...she felt his hand slip under her shirt and feel her belly. "Mine..." he sighed kissing her forehead. 

          Arno Dorian [Cannon time]: 

Arno was free running in the city being careful as he kept out of her sight if his wife knew he was following her, she'd have his head on a pike! It not like hasn't Y/n hasn't gone out alone before! She can handle herself, he's never had any problems with it before! It was just different now...this was the first time Y/n had gone out for a walk a month since giving birth to their daughter, said babe was currently napping whilst carefully wrapped save and snug in a sling against her mother's chest...

So, of course Arno was wary he just wanted to make sure his girls were okay! It was fifteen minutes in when Arno spotted him. A man following his wife, The assassin had see the man before! but Arno couldn't quite place where... He managed to get closer and realized it was one of his novices! what could they possibly want with Y/n? she was civilian not an enemy!

He followed for while before doing leap of faith into a hay pile neither Y/n or the novice had noticed the master assassin who was listening to conversation. "Uh, Bonjour madame!" the younger assassin greeted Y/n who jumped from the sudden voice , and subconsciously held her daughter closer. "Who are you?" Y/n ask as she scrutinized the hooded stranger. who staring at her nervously Arno could see and blush from under the gray hood...his stomach churned when he realized what was happening. just then D/n's eyes looked over at the hay and she got fussy.

Y/n didn't notice as her eyes were trained on the assassin in front of her who introduced himself as Rodrick. "And what do you want Mr. Rodrick?" she asked still cautious as the gray hooded, shifted uncomfortably. "I've seen at the cafe a lot, I enjoy your singing.." Her brows furrowed as she thanked him still lost on where this red bearded man was going with this. "I was wondering if you would be interested and in perhaps g-going out with me?" he stammered at little as the y/ht woman's brows shot up to her hairline.

"I'm sorry I misheard you..." He shook his head now hopeful and a bit more brave. "You do realize I married, right?" she pointed at her ring the man's demeanor hadn't change. "And yet he let's you wander the streets alone and never once seen you preform, tell me what kind of husband does that?" Y/n frowned and sighed as agreeing with him as she looked down at D/n little brown eyes that mirrored her father's blinked tiredly at her before closing again. "Maybe you should ask him..." she then looked up at the rooftops. "Arno?" she called out to her husband Rodrick blanched as figure rose out of the hay pile whilst glaring at daggers at the red bearded novice who just realized he tried to steal his mentor's wife!? 

"M-master Dorian! I-I though she I- didn't know she was yours!" Rodrick stumbled over his words trying to apologize as the master came up beside he wife with a stern expression. "I think you need to leave, now." Arno growled the gray clad novice didn't need to be told twice! and ran disappearing into the crowds, Arno made a mental note of dealing with him later, He then turned to his wife intrigued and bemused.

"How did you know I was following you?"

"I didn't...D/n did."

" What...how?"

"I don't know how, but she always knows when her papa's nearby..."

Arno's heart sped up at the prospects that his daughter may have his gift and wonders what future she'll have when that time comes? But for now he opted to just finish having an afternoon walk with his girls. 

[patrick-in-the-junkyard]

My Girl.

Henry Bowers x Hanscomb! Reader

Notes: This was a request I gotten a while ago which I started on but never finished until now. Hope you enjoy! (Sorta canon, no clown lol) (A bigger note will be posted after I post this)

Summary: The reader dumps Henry after a stunt he pulls that involves your brother and hooks up with Patrick out of vulnerability (so a small Patrick X Reader. Through the broken hearts they still have feelings for each other and come to terms. 

Warnings: NSFW, Language, Alcohol, Sexual Harassment + Harassment, Physical Altercation, Unprotected Sexual Intercorse, Blood, and Some Angst. 

Words:+5000

(The song that inspired the title to this is called Where’s My Girl from The Sparks)

(GIF not mine)

     The pounding in your head got even worse as your younger brother hadn’t arrived home yet. You've heard about the missing kids including the tragedy that happened to the Denbrough family and their younger son. You stood looking out your open bedroom window that had a high up view of your driveway and the one that had a view of the side of your house. After walking downstairs, you took a glance at the clock. Eight-forty three, it had been hours since you last saw him and you sure hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

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

     “Hey, Bro!” You attempted to get the attention of your younger brother as he stood outside of the Derry Scoop.

      “Mom says she's going to be out of town and I’ll be in charge of you for the next week. Grandpa has gotten really sick and she is going to be visiting him.” He frowned but then a smile formed on his face as he realized that you’d let him pick his bedtime.

     “Alright, well I’m going to the library, I’ll be back before dark so you don’t have to worry about me.” He turned to walk away, it was then a minute later when he finally disappeared from your sight.

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

     You took a seat on the comfy couch, hands resting on the dial-up phone, contemplating if you should wait for it to be at least ten-o'clock before you even began to dial the Derry Police Station. Out to get your mind off things, you pick up the book filled with crossword puzzle off of the coffee table.  

     It was around nine-twenty when finally you heard the heavy footsteps of what seemed to be your brother coming up to the front porch. You jolted up, throwing the book down and rushing to the door. He was dusting his dirty shirt off and tried to fix his hair but it was too late. When you opened the door you felt relief to see him alive but it was until you looked into his saddened eyes and knew something was off. He looked as he tried to hide something from you as he tried to push through you. You stopped him, noticing the dried-up blood from his nose and his blood-caked shirt.

     “What happened?” No answer was given as he looked at you with bloodshot eyes, you then took the time to raise his bloody shirt to a messy placed bandage. It didn’t stop you there as you pull the tape off the bandage and see an ‘H’ carved on the side of his stomach. Your heart ached as your eyes traced the deep cut. You really didn’t want it to be true as you already had an assumption of who did this to him. 

     “Ben, who did this to you?” You questioned him, which he looked up and into your eyes as if he couldn’t get the name of the culprit out. 

     “It was your boyfriend, H-Henry.” He choked out, tears now pouring down his cheeks. It was true and inside your heart hurt, you felt crushed as you could only imagine what to do next. You walked him to the stairs, told him to go to your room as you sped to the phone. Spinning the dial, you call him expecting something but ending with no answer. Unknown to you, Henry was now hiding under his bed, cowering with silent sobs and shaky arms. His drunken father was home and the sound of the ringing phone with bottles breaking flooded his house. It wasn’t going to end well for him that night.

     You throw the phone down angered, you rush up and grab a load of new bandages. He was sitting on the edge of your bed, wiping his eyes and lifting his head at you. Rushing to his aid you lay the bandages on the bed and pull out a clean bath rag.

     “This is going to sting for only a second.” You pour the rubbing alcohol on a clean rag and placed it on his wound. He hissed in pain and you could only wish it would get better.

     “Why do you even like that guy?” His question made you stop tapping the rag on the wound.

     “Well, he treats me like I’m not an outcast like everyone else at school does and besides if he wouldn’t be a dick and you got to know him better you’d understand.” You tried to explain as best as you could, still knowing the damage was already done. You placed a fresh new bandage over the ‘H’ and taped the sides securely. 

     “All done, you should go downstairs and get supper. I made sloppy joes and french fries.” Your voice chirped high and cheery while you gave your brother a simple smile. He stood up and began to walk out until he got to the door frame and turned back around.

     “I met some new friends today. Like you said I should try to make friends this summer so I won't be alone and stuck with you.” You laugh as you could already guess what kids they were when they usually rode their bikes down your street while screaming.

     “Let me guess, the supposed losers club?” You gave a chuckle at the name as it was what they called themselves. Even during the past month right before the end of the school year, you’d hear them say random shit while walking behind you in the halls.

     “I guess that’s what they are called.” He responded, starting to walk away leaving you to do whatever you could to relax. You were definitely going to give Henry a piece of your mind the next morning.

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

     You woke up in a cold sweat, hearing your window bang closed with a loud clank. You bolted up and on your feet, prepared to knock out anyone who was intruding. Turning the lights on you were faced with nothing, nobody at all. But as you could see the room looked overturn and been rummaged through. It looked like your drawers were ransacked and the stuff inside moved around. Your underwear drawer was turned upside down but seemed as if nothing was taken. Opening, you take a softball bat that you'd had since seventh grade. You went downstairs slowly, listening to each creak on the wooden floor. Your fingers clenched the smooth softball bat you had in your hands. 

     You began to turn on every light in the house, leaving no corner of the house in the dark. It was insane as was no one incomplete sight, Ben heard the commotion downstairs and got up from his bed. He noticed that every single light in the house was lit and expected that it had happened again. 

     “Is everything okay?” He asked concernedly while taking a good long look at the bat in your hand and the panic on your face.

     “Yeah, just go back upstairs.” You told him, with no hesitation he ran back up to his room. Checking both doors, making sure they were still locked and in good condition.

     After putting everything back in place, you laid down and covered up in your blanket. Closing your eyes, you start to overthink to the point you pass out. 

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

    You spent the next morning downtown shopping at the local grocery store and looking at the displays in the windows of stores along the sidewalk. You carried a bags stocked with the canned beans, hamburger patties, two-liters of soda, and three quarters.   

     After looking around in Freese's Department Store for the past hour you walk out of the downtown area and past Victor’s house. You caught a little glimpse of people standing around and talking in his backyard. It only took you a second to decide to go back and see who was back there. Carefully you sat down your bags by the mailbox.

     You tiptoed to the back of the house and of course, Henry had his back turned to you and standing around him was Victor, Belch, and Patrick. Patrick was the first to notice you stomping up the side of the house. His grin gleamed on his face as he could recognize that you found out about the event that took place the other day.

     “You really had to pick on my younger brother you rat headed asshole!” Running up behind Henry you push him to the ground, paying attention to him only. You left one punch to the back of his head,  Patrick jumped down trying to grab at you but ended with your hand colliding with his face. Victor grabbed your arms from behind and pulled you up with a strong grip. Henry stumbled up and gradually walked towards you, his face close to yours that you could smell the cigarettes on his breath.

     "You're so lucky I haven't treated you badly yet and slapped you down like the slut you are!" His hot breath hit your face and you struggled to break loose.

     "Maybe we should tie her up and show her what she's good for..." Patrick said, which ended up with him getting shushed. Belch looked with worried eyes at you but was speechless. Tears began to trickle from your eyes and pour down your face. You felt hatred for Henry and you managed to slightly kick him as you struggled as Vic’s fingers tightened on your arms.

     "You hurt my brother, what am I supposed to do praise you and suck your dick!" You yelled into his face, almost falling to the ground. You felt vulnerable, emotionally drained and nauseous all at once. Victor dropped you, making you fall onto the ground face first.

           “I’m done-, I can’t do this bullshit anymore!” You limped away from him, leaving him speechless and surprisingly hurt. It’s never felt like this for him, every time conflict or a breakup would happen in a relationship he'd brush it off and start to flirt with another. He was genuinely hurt and disappointed this time, and definitely couldn't stand it. It was like he had actually felt heartbroken.

     You stumble back to where you had dropped your bag sat and started on your way, limping from the fall. When arriving home, you tiptoed to the bathroom and stood in the mirror. Bruises lined your arms from the altercation, Vic certainly had a hard strong grip on you.  

     A loud knock broke you from your trance. Of course, your brother saw you go into the bathroom and began to notice how long you were in the bathroom and grew very concerned.

     "Are you okay in there?" You opened the door to not make him worry any longer.

     "Yeah, What's up?" You did your best to cover your arms up.

     "Bill is having a sleepover, could I go, pretty please?" He begged to know since if he would ask his mother she would definitely take hours to decide or plain say no.

     Before you could think of anything to say you both heard a loud crash in the kitchen.

     "-Look what you did you dip shit!-"

     "-You were supposed to catch it Eds!-" The quarrel became louder and louder as you got closer to the kitchen.

     A blue glass plate, now shattered into little tiny pieces, littered the kitchen floor. It was clear that one of the kids that stood in front of it had to be the culprit.  

     "Oh fuck- that's Bowers girl!" They all had frozen still, fear in their eyes. You knew how Bowers was to them and you felt bad about it. If you could you would try to help them.

     It was until then that you decided to put a big smile on your face, look at Ben and tell him he’s free to go for the night and to just give you a call. The other kids went from almost terrified to ‘Hell yeah Ben can come’. Ben rushed up the stairs to his room to pack. 

     “Hey pretty lady, Richie Tozier’s the name and doing voices is my game.” The kid reached his hand out for you to shake it but one of the other boys slapped his hand away. 

     “-Dude!-”

     “Beep Beep, Richie!”

     “Oh I know you, what would you think Henry Bowers would do if he saw you talking to me. Besides I’m way out of your league.” You joked before you turned away from them and went up to your room.

     “Holy shit you just got burned by Henry’s girl.” They all laughed to which Richie just shrugged it off.

     Ben had put an outfit, a few books, a VHS tape, probably The Breakfast Club, and a few of his notebooks. Before he could leave, he had to stop by and say goodbye. He gave you a bear hug before walking out the door with his friends.

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

     It was about 9 o clock and you were finally alone. It was about the third time you had gone into the bathroom to look at your bruises.

     Looking at yourself in the mirror, you were appreciating the large colorful tee covering the silky neon pink underwear you wore. It was as if you looked like you had attended one of Gretta Bowie’s ‘slutty’ sleepover afterparties. It had been hours since the altercation and the bruises had started to fade. No need to worry about it now

     Treating yourself, you walk to your mother’s liquor cabinet that stood in the kitchen and grabbed a few things out. Walking to the kitchen, you take a glass out, pouring and mixing more than one drink, not even caring about how you would feel in the morning. After at least ten minutes of hardcore drinking, you felt the blood rush to your head as you walk back upstairs giddy. You were certainly buzzed. 

     “All we need is a little music and we could have a personal party.” You spoke out loud to yourself.

     You went to your cassette player on your dresser, putting one of the tapes you’d accidentally taken from Belch’s Trans Am. You've ridden with all of them while on Henry’s lap, while his hands were in your hair. There were times where you brought you cassettes because Belch was curious of what you listened to. It was when one of your tapes got mixed with his and you hadn't seen it since.

     The tape that you had now was labeled “Date Night” in messy writing which consisted of -of course- loads of rock love songs from previous years. Your favorite song out of the whole tape was ‘My Kind Of Lover’. You could only imagine what happens during this song when it's playing in the Trans Am. 

     You couldn’t help but rock your hips side to side to the beat of the song not taking notice of your windows open blinds. Your whole street could now see you dance, half-naked and drunker than a frat boy at a party. This wasn’t the first time this has happened, only a month prior to this occasion there was another incident. As your neighbor, Mr. Keene caught a group of boys that stood by your mailbox ogling at your figure in the window. One of their flashlights shined into his and his wife’s room on accident and they thought as they were in the clear.

      It was until Mr. Keene scared the living shit out of them and made them start running. Of course, that was before they couldn’t be identified. Let's just say that their mothers weren’t pleased with their sons and you for “showing off your body” to their “delicate sons”.

     Sounds of pebbles hitting your window hard had stopped your dancing daze, it’d had almost felt like the night before. There was only one catch, your room wasn’t turned upside down because there was no one there and the noise was coming from outside.

     “Ugh, Patrick you’re such a cliche.” You looked over and out your window and see him standing, waiting for your silhouette to open and peek out the window. He mouthed for you to let him in giving off his signature look. Knowing him you had to let him in or else he’d break in another way.   

     Stupidly running downstairs, you make your way to the front door. Looking through the peephole you see Patrick now with a lit cigarette in his mouth. You were going to have to open the door.

     He walked in, his muddy boots making dirty prints on the nice freshly waxed wooden floor. You were considering just running out but you had to stay and protect your house. Your only worry was now safe asleep at a friends house, exhausted after watching Sleepaway Camp with his group of friends.

     You shut the door to only be met with nothing behind you and the sound of someone pouring Alcohol. His cigarette was placed in the ashtray on your kitchen counter. He had taken a plastic cup from your cabinet and poured random drinks, but mostly Vodka in and chugged it down. Some had missed his mouth and ran down his chin onto his shirt. He crushed the cup and threw it next to the trash can, missing it completely.

     “I saw your little show from outside Princess, that was some hot shit.”  He sounded majorly aroused but there was no doubt that he was. 

     “What show? My dancing?” You could barely hear yourself let alone him since your music was at a high volume. He nodded which was your cue to go upstairs to turn your cassette player off.

     He followed you up to your room and watched you remove the tape which he took from your hands. His eyes skimmed the tapes label taking a laugh at the title.

     “You know Belch was looking for this the other day, He had a very special date and couldn’t find this. In the case was something totally bizarre and ruined his date.” You laughed at his comment but couldn’t help but feet bad.

      You sit down on your bed and he tries to sit on the fluffy stool in front of where you sat. He almost drunkenly tipped over and fell on his ass making you laugh.

     “Why are you even here? What do you want?” You asked him, heart now racing. He stood up and leaned over you. His rough, damp fingers traced your arms. It was when he leaned in and licked your face only making you shiver in disgust and confusion. He kissed your lips roughly and sloppy, ignoring your disgust. It was when he moved over to your neck that you couldn’t help but scream out.

     “Wait-!!” He stopped only for a moment and then continued on. 

     “I still love Hen-.” He kept kissing your neck until you pushed his head off of you.

      “He won't know, we don’t have to go all the way if you don’t want to.” He practically begged for your touch as he always did seeing you around Henry and the gang.

     “Would you try to talk to him if I do this.” At this point in time, you were desperate to see him again. In your heart, you felt as if you could make a deal with Henry to at least leave your brother alone. He grinned and nodded, even if he lied you felt like you had no other choice.

     His actions began again as he starts back at your neck, his fingers traced down to your panties. Fingers gliding over the now prominent wet spot lining your underwear, your breath hitched as he pushed his thumb again the fabric. He let out a small groan, he could feel his half-hard cock twitch and start to rise in his pants.  

    You began to feel anxious as his hand began to tug at your panties, his tongue gliding on your neck. You got up and pulled down your panties for him, looking deep into his soul.

     His smile was plastered on his face as he unzipped his pants pulling them down to his knees. You sat back down, unknowing of what to do next. 

     His cock was glistening and flushed a pretty reddish-pink, it looked as it had been painfully erect for a while. His pale hand gripped yours painfully as he slowly moved it onto his hard-on.

     “You feel that? You did that to me.” Your hand was small compared to his cock. He had a hold of your wrist, guiding your hand up and down his cock. You couldn’t help but laugh to the point that if anyone had seen your face you’d be compared to a tomato. 

     He took a headful of your hair and pulled you back making you gasp.

     “Do you want a taste.” You nodded and he pushed your head near the tip of his cock. You couldn’t help but lick the tip. Because of this he slowly bucked his hips up into your mouth, making you take more into your mouth. He pushed your head way down and that was when you choked and pulled off before you could vomit. 

     “Keep strokin’.” His face was dotted with beads of sweat, you kept your pace with your hands meeting his thrusts. That was when he flipped his head backward, grunting loud and deep.

     “Fuck-” He came all over your hand, his face in complete bliss.

     You were in awe, ‘So this is why Hockstetter gets a lot of girls.” You couldn’t help but think to yourself.

     “Your turn now.” You get on your knees, then it had hit you. The last thing you remember is looking at Patrick’s expression before closing your eyes and blacking out.

     “Shit, Good enough.” Patrick was heavily disappointed but decided as this was already worth the phone call he was going to make to Henry the next morning. He laid back, letting sleep take over his body. 

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

     Waking up was weird for you, your head pounded and you felt a little sick to your stomach. Last nights events then played through your mind and you then realize why you felt that way. Patrick was talking on the phone, his back towards you.

     “Just talk to her Henry, she loves you... Okay ill tell her if I see her downtown, I'm taking a walk to Vic’s. I’ll see you later.” He slammed the phone down and turned around.

      “Go see him, he’ll be waiting. Also when you get him back you owe me big time Princess.” 

     He opened your door walking out and left your house without saying another word.

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

    You stood at his front door, already knowing his father would already be on duty this night. You knocked as hard as you could, trying to see if anyone was there at all. After a minute, you began to turn around, giving up, until the door opened. There was Henry, shirtless, his pants covered in dirt and oil, hair greasy and a tempting smile.

     “What the fuck you want?” He kept glancing back while waiting for you to answer.

     “We really need to talk.” He huffed and then moved to the side letting you in. The air smelled like alcohol, cigarettes, and dirt which was normal because his dad never cleaned up. It was always Henry.

     “Sit your ass down.” He pointed to his bed, your eyes darted to his walls, tracing to the little prints in the yellow wallpaper. 

     “Henry, you know how much I care for my brother. You have to understand, I have to look out for him because I don't want him to end up like our dad. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hit you that wasn’t me, I was just so angry that you hurt him.” You were tear-jerked as you tried to explain what had gone down in that brain of yours.

     Deep in his heart, he hated seeing you like this. He really did care about you just had the hardest time expressing it.

     “Come ere.” His arms were open and you wrapped your arms around him, taking his scent of cheap cologne and beer.

     “You missed me that much huh?” You laughed but then pushed up and away from him, crossing your arms.

    “I want you to carve an h on me Hen.” He gave a look of concern and shock at first.

     “Are you sure, I mean-.”

     “Yes, I don't think its fair for you to mark my brother.” He took a moment to collect his feelings and then got out his switchblade. You lifted your tee to show the side of your stomach. He popped the blade open and put it towards your skin. The blade pressed into your skin, a stinging pain was all that it felt like. Tears rolled down your face by the time he was done. 

      “Shhh, It’s okay.” He began to press soft kisses on your cheek down to your neck. It was in the heat of the moment when you took your shirt off to show off the bra you had on. His eyes traced the pretty blue lace that cupped your breasts. He put his fingers until the straps and pulled them down before moving the cups from your bra down. Taking one look at your now hard nipples he leaned down and took one into his mouth, other between his fingers.

     He yanked down your underwear, ready to touch you but before he could do that you begged.

     “Henry, Please fuck me!” At that remark, he unzipped his pants and pulled his hard cock out of his briefs, giving it a few strokes. Moving over to you he had placed his cock at your dripping wet entrance, taking a deep breath he pushed in.  

     “Oh fuck!” He held still for only a moment, knowing if he were to move for a second he wouldn’t last. There you were, his girl, in his bed only, under him, he couldn’t think of anything better. He then started to move, starting off slow and gradually building up a faster pace. Placing your leg over his shoulder, he thrust at an angle, making his cock rut against your g-spot. 

     “Oh- Henry!” Your hands were in his hair as his hips snapped a faster rhythm, making the sound of his cock meeting your wet entrance echo throughout the room. You felt the heartbeat in your lower region grow as you become closer and closer to falling over the edge. A finger made it’s way, trailing towards your clit, swirling gentle circles onto it. That was it, that was all it had to take to push you over. 

     “That's right, come on my cock Princess, fuck! I’m coming-” He pressed his face into your neck, biting down roughly. He fucked into you three more times before coming to a complete halt, spilling his cum deep inside you. The only sound that fills your ears was both your breathing. Now, you both were sweaty and dirty. Henry's body has flushed a bright red and his hair stuck to his forehead.

     “You sure put up a fight a few days ago, if I knew you needed some dick this badly I would have fucked you on the spot.” He laid snuggled into your body, craving the current embrace. It was when he got up and looked down, leftover blood had gone onto his stomach and down to his pubic hair. His hair was puffed up, greasy and sweaty.

     “You wanna shower with me, I'll clean you up and we can talk about everything.” 

     “Yes on one condition, could you wash my back?”

     “Yea sure sweetheart but we have to hurry up. You don’t want the gang walkin’ in on us in the shower, do ya?.” He grabbed a random pair of clothes out of the pile on his bed. He began his way toward the bathroom but waiting outside the door for you to follow

     You smiled to yourself and made your way to his bathroom.

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

     It wasn't until later when the rest of the gang arrived and noticed that you were tangled into Henry’s arms on the couch.

     They didn’t question anything and kept silent, but only Patrick knew.

     Later on, after sitting around drinking and watching MTV, Henry, Belch, and Victor went to go to the other room to grab a pack of beer out of Henry’s room.

     Patrick looked over at you, grin on his face.

     “Remember, you owe me, Princess.”

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

     It was around 10:30 when you gave Henry a kiss on the cheek and opened the car door. Hoping off of him and outside, you turn around and lean into the window.

     “Remember, Call me later.” 

     “Yeah, I know. I love you, Princess.”

     “Love you too Hen.”

     You stepped away and watched the car speed off down the street, causing some people to wake up from the sound. Warm, warm was all that you felt, your heart felt like it was on fire with butterflies flying around. It was time to go inside.

     The door was locked so you tried the doorbell, it was when you heard a bunch of yells inside.

     A girl opened the door, she had red short hair and her face was dotted with freckles. 

     “Another sleepover huh?” You asked and she replied with a yes. 

     Walking in, there were empty pizza boxes on the floor and a loud booming sound coming from the living room. Your brother stood along with two other kids, Richie Tozier, and Stan Uris, poorly reenacting movie scenes making the others cringe and laugh at their attempt of acting.

     “Hey Ben, come here for a second.” He moved away from the game, having Mike now take his place. He walked with you to the kitchen, you opened the pizza box on the table and took out a slice of pepperoni.

     “If you feel embarrassed because of that scar don't worry cause now we have the same one” You lift up your shirt to your waist showing off a fresh, deep cut. Carved into your skin was an ‘H’. He was a little confused but didn’t dwell on it too hard.

 You walked upstairs, excited for that phone call that would come soon enough.

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

Taglist: @pattycake-hockstetter, @forgottencandy, @bowersgangvslosersclub (If you want to be added for Bowers Gang stuff just inbox me)

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Modern Times Rock and Roll (Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader, SMUT!)

Part 7 of The Queen Repertoire

Warnings: SMUT!, Language

Notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO BEN HARDY! 

The music was pumping and his eyes stared fixated at me as I danced. I, however, paid him no mind, that is, until my friend pointed him out to me.

“Roger Taylor is staring at you!” she giggled.

I turned around and saw him standing at the bar. I smirked at him.

“Not bloody likely,” scoffed [Y/F/N]'s co-worker Annalise. “He's probably mesmerized by my shimmery dress and out-of-this-world curves.” She danced seductively.

“Why did we have to bring her again?” I whispered to my friend.

“She got dumped this morning,” [Y/F/N] said. “I felt bad...”

“Besides you've got your own man don't you?” the co-worker continued on.

“Yeah,” I said smiling. “I do.”

I'd met Roger a couple months earlier. Smile had just performed with their new singer and new bassist. The show had been wild and way better than it used to be. I thoroughly enjoyed it all. So much so I felt absolutely drained afterwards and decided to get one more drink before heading home.

I'd ordered my drink and proceeded to wait. As I did someone sat down in the stool beside me. “Her drink's on me, Reg.”

I looked beside me to see a familiar blonde with a cocky grin on his face.

“Her drink's on me, Reg” I repeated to the barkeep. “No offense I just don't feel comfortable accepting a drink from a stranger. You might slip me something for all I know.”

“First off the name's Roger, Roger Meddows Taylor,” he said. “And secondly I would never do something that fucked up. It honestly pisses me off whenever I see entitled wankers drug innocent girls to have their way. Like that piece of shit over there,” he motioned at a disgusting snake of a man slipping a pill of sorts into a girl's martini. The barkeep gave me my drink and went to toss the bastard out.

“Good eye mate,” Reg said as he walked away. Roger smiled and held his beer up to him for a second.

“Now what do I call you other than beautiful?” he asked.

“[Y/N],” I said. “[Y/N]  [Y/L/N].”

“Well [Y/N] would you care to join me for the rest of the night?” he asked me. My eye's must've grown wide for he promptly panicked. “Not like that, darling. No, I mean would you like to maybe hang out with me for a bit?”

Just then my ex walked in with his arm wrapped around the flavor of the week. We'd been broken up for six or so months and every now and then he'll call insisting I take him back. That he didn't mean to cheat on me. Wanker.

I immediately turn around desperate to hide my face.

“Is something wrong?” Roger asked.

“Asshole ex just walked in so...yeah,” I said panicking.

“Tall, ape-like with a ghastly jacket?” Roger asked peering over at him as sneakily as he could.

“Don't look!” I hissed. “And thank fuck I'm not the only one who hates that shite excuse for a jacket.”

Roger laughed then got closer to me. “Come on, I can get us out without being spotted by tall, dark, and wanker.”

“Really?” He smiled and held out his hand to me.

I normally wouldn't trust someone right off the bat but I was desperate. I killed the rest of my drink and placed my hand in his.

“Right now whatever you do don't go too far from me,” he started leading us to the stage. I panicked and grabbed his arm. “It's alright my car's parked by the back door we'll be out of here in no time.”

So I continued to follow him. We were almost out of the dance floor when Roger turned and froze.

“Shit he and the walking herpes are coming for a dance,” he damn near growled. He then drew me in close and we started to sway our way away.

“This song is pretty plain compared to your music,” I said shocking Roger. “What? You didn't think I paid attention to your band? I would have figured someone with an ego as big as yours would soak up such attention.”

“Well it's hard to maintain an ego and drum at the same time,” he pointed out. “So, what did you think?”

“I liked it,” I said. “It was different than anything I've ever heard before, and I love the energy you and your mates share. You all must really love each other.”

“We're family, of course we do,” he said. “We love each other and our modern time's rock and roll.”

Suddenly it was like a light bulb went off in his head.

“Everything alright?” I asked.

“Yeah, just have some words coming to me for a new song,” he said.

“Well, I can't wait to hear it,” I said.

He then peered over my shoulder. “Fuck they're getting closer, um, please don't kick me in the bollocks for this.” He then leaned in and crashed his lips to mine.

I was stunned at first but I couldn't deny that it was the best I'd had in a long, long, time. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him back. I don't know how we managed to get out of the dance floor while kissing without banging into the random pub-goers but we did. I didn't know it, of course, until Roger pulled back.

We were standing by the stage stairs, and Roger's cheeks had blushed a beautiful shade of pink. “Come on,” he said. We went up the stair and dashed to back stage where the back door stood. We bolted out and into his car.

“God, I owe you so much,” I breathed a sigh of relief once we started down the road.

“Well you can thank me by agreeing to join me for dinner some time,” he smiled.

“Okay,” I said.

“Really?” he said sounding relieved.

I smiled and leaned over kissing him on the cheek. I rested my body against him and watched as he pulled into a popular make-out spot in the local park. “I've never been here before.”

“Really? That twat never brought you here?” I shook my head.

“He probably brought the girl he cheated with though,” I said.

“It's his loss,” Roger said. “If I'm ever lucky enough to be with you I wouldn't ever let you go.”

“You don't even know me,” I said.

“I know you like Smile,” he said. “And I know you sometimes sit at the bar alone with a frown on your face and drink in hand. I know when not in class you hang out by the tree outside Imperial's library and read. And I know that when you were fourteen you attended a party and had the most magical kiss of your life with a young boy who's voice cracked annoyingly, and whose hair kept getting in his face. Though you probably don't remember that part considering the room was dark as night.”

I sat back and looked at him in shock. Not even my friends at the time (who dragged me to said party) knew about that. It was a game of 7 minutes in Heaven and I never actually found out who the boy was...that is until that night in Roger's car.

“I should have known by the overly suave pick-up lines,” I laughed. “I'm surprised you didn't just go with the old technique.”

“What? You mean,” he cleared his throat. “Didn't you feel it?”

I rolled my eyes. “Feel what?”

“The Earth,” he said leaning closer to mean. “It shifted with our meeting.”

I laughed. “That is still cheesy.”

“And you still love it,” he laughed bringing his lips to mine.

And just like I did then I felt the magic.

Sometime later, with the radio on low with music that wasn't his bands modern times rock and roll, he laid on top of me in the backseat. We were naked and he was lined up with my entrance. He kissed me once more and slipped in, cursing under his breath once he was inside me.

I couldn't help but let out a “FUCK!” either as he stretched me. He moved gently, his brow furrowing as pleasure took over. I felt it too, and my God...it was honestly the most brilliant feeling in the world. Almost as if to drive the point home, a moan escaped from my lips.

“You like that?” Roger asked. I nodded, moving my hips with his. “Good, 'cause I―Fuck!―I love fucking you.”

We continued like that for what felt like hours. The windows fogged up and once Roger started thrusting into my sweet spot it was damn near impossible for me to contain myself. “OH FUCK ROGER!” My moans became louder and the tension within my body grew stronger. My toes curled up and suddenly I was screaming into the night as I tightened around him. My body trembled as I came down from my high. Roger followed soon after moaning loudly as he shot his seed into me.

We laid there together for a while, sweaty and in bliss. He took me home soon after and we'd been together ever since.

Now as I danced with my friend and Annalise, Roger continued to stare at me. Finally he gulped down the last of his drink and started towards us. Annalise, with the smuggest look on her face approached him.

“Hey there,” she greeted him seductively while attempting to grind on him. “I couldn't help but notice you staring. Would you care for a dance?”

“I was actually going to dance with my girlfriend,” Roger said. “So if you will excuse me.” He brushed passed her and embraced me. “Hello darling,” he pecked me on the lips.

“Hi,” I said beaming up at him.

“Wanna go? Music's kind of shit tonight,” he said.

“Yeah true, it's no modern times rock and roll,” I said right before we started heading out leaving Annalise to gawk.

We married a year later and I became pregnant. At the end of every night, he would sing the exact same words to me...

Well I hope this baby's gonna come along soon You don't know it could happen any ol' rainy afternoon

When I asked him about he just said it was part of a song the band was recording for their first studio album. Said that a very special girl had inspired it.

“A girl who loves our modern times rock and roll,” he'd say kissing me. “And who loves me.”

I laugh and kiss him as I would for the rest of our lives.

Taglist: @okaykathryn  @fairestkillerqueenofall @onceuponadetectivedemigod @boherahpsody @thebohemianpenguin @ihatethespacebars @madsthegroupie @freddie-bulsara-queen @rose-de-jaune @xxkellsvixen19xx @valeriecarolinaw @5sos-wdw @hearttshapeddboxx @spicyarreagaa @fluffffffffffff @pleasingiswhatweaimfor @hatemylifesofuckingmuch @jollyavacado @painandpleasure86 @haileynicoleseavey17 @queenlover1997 @rrogerrz​ @peachyywine​ @mrsmazzello​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @zwiezraczek​ @night-writer-writer​ @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever​ @tinywildeace​

[missmeikakuna]

Chad and the Incel Chapter 10

Rated: M

Fandom: Original Fiction (but inspired by the Virgin vs Chad meme)

Relationship type: Male/Male with a bit of Female/Female (the lesbians are adorable, btw) and unrequited Male/Female (in other words, the guys are bisexual).

Description: Chad is, well, a Chad, or at least he looks like one. He’s got his sights set on the cool nerd Becky and enlists the help of her shy incel ex-friend Noah, offering to help him get the gorgeous girl (Stacy) he desperately wants. Noah is reluctant to help, believing that he will be stuck in inceldom forever, but Chad’s interest in his life gives him hope. When their plans go awry, they start turning their romantic attention towards each other.

Content Warning: Given the subject matter, you can guess that this story has dark themes in it, such as suicide and self-harm (plus the mental health issues that often cause them), sexism, slut-shaming homophobia, biphobia and transphobia. There is also swearing and some mentions of sex but nothing too explicit (hence the M rating as opposed to an Explicit rating).

10th Post: [Experiment] (POLL) Should I end it all?

Noah didn’t show up at school, spending all day in bed.

Chad tried messaging him but got no response. As he made his way to his locker during lunch he even tried to call him, but the mocking dirge of four gradually quieting beeps played on the phone.

‘What the hell?’ Chad asked his locker with a hiss. He added, ‘Noah, don’t ignore my calls,’ despite no one being there to hear him.

His shoulders jumped when he felt a slap on the back.

‘What’s up? Hey, where’s your ugly friend?’

Chad whipped his body around and grabbed Tyrone by the collar. ‘Who are you talking about?’ he growled.

Tyrone’s shoulders dropped. ‘Y-you know. Whatshisname, with the weird shirts and the glasses.’

‘Fuck you. You know nothing about him. Absolutely fucking nothing!’

Tyrone held his hands up like a soldier caught by the enemy. ‘Woah, c-calm down, dude! You on your p-period or something?’

Chad raised his fist but didn’t punch Tyrone, opting to drop him instead. ‘You’re not worth it. You’re a pathetic piece of shit who clearly needs glasses himself.’

Now it was Tyrone’s turn to grab Chad by the collar, albeit with a weaker grip. ‘Nobody calls me pathetic. Nobody.’ It took a crack in Tyrone’s voice for Chad to notice that the tiny boy was blinking abnormally fast. ‘And what’s your problem? You were spending all that time with whatshisface and I let you even though you were supposed to be my friend. Why? Because you seemed happy around him. You had this stupid little Grinch-looking grin on your face whenever he came into the room.’

Chad instinctively touched the ends of his lips with his thumb and pointer finger. ‘I did?’

‘Yeah.’ Tyrone let go of Chad’s collar and rubbed the back of his own neck. ‘Look, uh, s…s…’ He took a deep breath before squeezing out what he wanted to say. ‘Sorry for insulting the guy. You know me. I run my mouth a lot sometimes. By the way, what was with the part about me needing glasses?’

‘Nothing!’ Chad croaked as he swiftly turned away from him.

Tyrone shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ll, uh, leave you to calm down or whatever. I wouldn’t worry too much about the guy. I’m sure he’ll be back tomorrow. Probably spent all night watching whatever he watches.’

Noah did not, in fact, come back to school the next day. Or the day after that. Whenever his mother tried to get him out of bed, he screeched at her to get out of his room.

He was tempted to use his phone to watch YouTube to pass the time but he kept reminding himself of one word. ‘Cope’. Instead he lied down and thought about everything that had gone wrong in his life, from never having had a girlfriend to Chad finding his incel forum account. Though he refused to admit it even to himself, the latter caused an even greater sting in his heart.

After hours of thinking, he mustered up the motivation to stand up and grab his phone. He put up a post to the forum.

Rotcel2003- (POLL) Should I end it all?

It’s over for me. It was over for me as soon as I was born with this deformed face. And now the one girl who I thought I could be with has found this account and is mocking me for it. Should I just end it?

He checked the poll several hours later and became a mess of tears at the results. He was right.

Yes- 102 votes

No- 28 votes

Someone commented an alternative.

Islavistalol- Go ER and kill everyone. Get revenge on the girl who mocked you. Foids deserve the bullet.

He envisioned Chad’s dying face. He had done this in the past with the girls who rejected him or simply didn’t notice him but, for some reason, this time he felt pain more powerful than any pleasure he could feel at the concept of revenge. There was no way he could even attempt what the infamous Elliot Rodger did.

He added one edit to his post. 

It’s decided. Goodbye, everyone.

Chad was reluctant to check the forum again. He’d already made enough of a mess. However, as he secretly looked at his phone during a boring class,  he gave in and saw Noah’s final post.

‘Shit,’ he murmured as he stood up.

‘Is something wrong, Mr Beaufort?’ the teacher asked but Chad ignored him and raced out of the classroom. ‘Hey, what are you-’

Chad searched through his scrambled mind for a place Noah would commit suicide. Sweat ran down his entire body and his throat felt dry and sore as if he had just screamed for ten hours. His heart felt like it was trying to escape out of his chest and he panted like a wolf in the middle of the desert. 

He got into his car and sped away.

He first stopped at Noah’s house and banged on the front door. When no one answered, he took a few steps back and kicked the door open. Noah was nowhere to be found.

He tried the train station but there was no sight of Noah. He went to a bridge where suicide was common and couldn’t find him there either.

He took out his phone and looked up advice on stopping someone from committing suicide. He only skimmed it, barely able to concentrate as memories of Noah flashed before his eyes. One thing that the boy said stuck out.

‘I’d spend the rest of my life here if I could.’

A thorny bouquet of different curse words tumbled from Chad’s mouth. He turned his car around and rushed to the local library with intentional graffiti.

As luck would have it, the door had a ‘closed’ sign attached to it.

Chad repeatedly slammed his hands against the clear doors and, when no one was there to open them, he looked around. He ran around the library until he was behind it, his heart pounding in his ears.

He saw him, dipping his toes into the lake. Chad shivered even though he wasn’t touching the water himself. 

‘Noah!’

The boy turned his head, tears in his eyes. ‘Leave me alone,’ he spat. ‘I don’t want to fucking talk to you.’

Chad stepped towards him, careful not to step too close and scare Noah even more. ‘But I need to apologise. I get it. I was shitty. Real shitty.  I shouldn’t have tried to meddle so much. But don’t drown yourself over me! I’m not worth it!’

Noah moved out of the lake and stormed up to Chad, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and giving him a murderous glare.

‘You think it’s ‘cause of you? You fucking narcissist. It’s not all about you. I’ve spent years of my life trying to get a girlfriend, and for what? So she can spread her fucking legs for some piece of shit like you? Everyone on that website you fucking spied on me on is right. It’s hopeless for someone like me. I look like shit, and even if I just looked average, girls don’t want an ‘average’ guy. No, they only go for the top 20 per cent of men. Do you think that’s fair, huh? Huh? And don’t try to explain it away by saying, ‘Just have a less shitty personality,’ like you know what oppression is. Fuck off!’ He shoved Chad away.

Chad touched Noah’s arms with shaking hands. Noah’s glare softened at his touch. ‘I don’t know about ‘oppression’, per se,’ Chad said. ‘But I do know what it’s like to be treated badly because of something out of my control. It’s something I’ve tried to keep hidden, so I don’t know what I’d do if I was in your shoes and people found out the truth. That’s why I’m really sorry.’

Noah pushed Chad’s arms away and started walking back towards the lake. ‘I bet your secret’s something small like, ‘A girl rejected me once so I had to go with one of my thirty other options’.’

Chad took a deep breath. ‘More like, ‘I confessed to a guy and got my ribs kicked until they broke and I had to go to the hospital’.’

Noah turned around. He said nothing. He just repeatedly opened and closed his hands as if he was trying to hold onto the air. The wind blew and he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. Chad stepped closer.

‘And besides, you don’t look like shit,’ he said. ‘I’ve told you this before. You’re hot.’

When Noah put his foot in the water, Chad felt a painful bolt of electricity in his veins telling him to run forward, but he reminded himself of the consequences of trying to rush this. 

Noah sighed. ‘Do you think I want to hear that from you? Guys want everything. They’d fuck a walking table if they could. Hearing stuff like that from a guy isn’t the same as hearing it from a soft, feminine femoid…’

Chad had to tune out when Noah started describing the ideal woman. He pictured Noah having sex with a woman and felt like he was going to vomit.

‘… so I don’t want to hear it from a degenerate like you.’

‘Degenerate?’

‘You just told me you’re a faggot.’

Chad felt like slapping himself when his blood started to boil. How could he want to punch someone who was on the verge of suicide?

‘I’m not a faggot,’ he murmured with his head down as he shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘I liked Becky, remember?’

‘I bet that was just a cover-up.’ The more Noah explained, the weaker his voice became, as if his own mind was already arguing with everything he was saying. ‘You just wanted to cope with your degeneracy by acting like a normal person so you could bang a bunch of other Chads behind the scenes. Knowing you it worked. You probably get to sleep with ten men a night just like a femoid. And me? I get to spend the rest of my life not knowing the love of a woman. Or maybe you’re really straight and you’re just coping with Becky rejecting you so you pretended to like me. You wanted to convince yourself you’re happy when you’re really miserable.’

Chad took another step. ‘Is that last bit how you feel... about yourself?’

Noah released a single quick laugh. ‘I’m eighteen for Christ’s sake. Guys half my age are already having sex.’ Chad winced at the thought. ‘If these are the best years of my life, I may as well die now. No femoid is going to wake me up with a kiss and tell me the kids are already up, excited for their Christmas presents. No femoid’s going to cook my favourite meal when I come home from work upset at my boss. And no femoid is ever going to tell me she found this goofy-looking tie and thought of me so she bought it. If I stay alive, I’m going to be a virgin at fifty and everyone’s going to look at me like a worthless waste of space. Humans are supposed to reproduce, right? What’s the use of a man who can’t do that? I’m going to die alone. I just know it.’

Noah submerged his ankles in the water, then his shins. Chad grabbed his arm. ‘What’s your favourite meal?’ was the only question he could come up with in such a short amount of time.

Noah bit his lip. ‘Meatloaf,’ he whispered, looking away from Chad. ‘I know it’s normie shit but Mom makes it with this weird spice that makes it ten times better. I’d… love to ask her what the spice is so I can tell my future wife and she can cook it for me.’

‘You can’t do that if you’re dead.’

After Chad said that he rubbed the back of his own neck. ‘Look, I really hope this doesn’t look like I’m insulting you, but I don’t see the logic in what you’re saying. It seems like you’re taking one thing that’s happening now and convincing yourself that it’s the end of the world. The steps between you not getting laid right now and you dying alone don’t seem to connect. And it’s not like you’re a virgin anymore since we, you know….’

Noah stepped further into the water and Chad pulled him back. ‘Wait! I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry. I’m not trying to, you know, downplay what you’re feeling right now. It’s just that it doesn’t seem very rational and I know you’re the kind of person who believes in logic and reason.’

‘I’m not… rational? I’m very rational. I understand more about the world than some Christian who probably tries to pray the gay away.’

‘That may be true, but right now you’re not acting very rational. It’s like someone’s possessed you and put these thoughts into your head against your will. You’re not really like this, Noah. I know you’re not.’ 

Chad wiped the tears that were beginning to surface in his eyes. ‘And, to be honest, I’d like to wake you up with a kiss and tell you our future kids are already up for Christmas. I’d like to learn that meatloaf recipe and make it for you after a hard day’s work. I’d probably skip the middleman and ask your mom directly. And I’m probably not good at picking out ties, but I could buy you one if you wanted me to. I’m sure by then I’d know you well enough to know which one to pick. 

‘Actually, you know what? It doesn’t matter what I want right now. You’re right, I’m a narcissist. Even if we never got together and I saw you going out with some chick, I’d be happy enough. I’d survive. Even if we never had sex again and I never had sex with anyone else, ever, I’d be okay. Even if I’m fifty years old. If someone looked at you funny for being a fifty-year-old virgin, you know I’d punch their lights out.’

Chad lowered his hand from his tear-stained face and smiled at Noah, pulling him just a little bit closer. He himself stepped closer, trying his best to ignore the coldness circling his feet as the water seeped into his them through the holes in his socks. Noah’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes grew several sizes, his lips pursed and his limbs stiff.

‘You see, even if you don’t get a girl, you’ll still have friends, family and all that good stuff,' Chad assured him in a soft but firm voice, brushing his fingers against Noah’s cheek. 'You’re not a waste of space. It’s just whatever’s possessed your mind telling you that.

‘Look, I’m not too good at talking about this kind of thing. I’m not even sure if I should really be arguing about this with you instead of just listening to you. Maybe you should talk to someone who, I don’t know, gets paid to listen to people going through what you’re going through. They should have better advice than me. Please, just talk to someone about this. 

‘And not that forum. I know I don’t know what I’m doing, but I sure as hell know more than those idiots who told you to kill yourself. It’s not like they’re people who have gotten out of your situation. It’s like going to a support group for alcoholics run by someone who’s still an alcoholic and hasn’t gotten help themselves.’

Noah’s mouth opened but he didn’t say anything. His eyes moved from side to side as he contemplated what Chad said. Tears spilled out of his eyes and made his cheeks sting. His nose started to run and he put on a tiny smile. He looked into Chad’s eyes. When he realised that his fingers were still on his cheek, he pushed them away and stepped back. He gasped when the wet earth underneath him started to shift, pulling him into the water. He instinctively reached for Chad’s hand and inadvertently dragged him down with him.

Both were surrounded by pitch black. Noah closed his eyes, tears joining the lake water. Once the shock wore off, Chad looked up at the surface, which had a light he could just barely see. He wrapped one arm around Noah’s waist and when he did so, Noah opened his eyes as if waking from a nightmare. The two swam up together.

Loud gasps for breath echoed throughout the area. Chad hauled Noah onto land and Noah, in turn, pulled him up. They lied down, shivering, on the grass. They breathed heavily as they looked at the sky.

‘I think I should take you to a hospital,’ Chad suggested.

‘Why? I’m not injured.’

‘That’s good to hear. But, I mean, you’re still injured in the mind.’ Chad took his phone out of his pocket and tried to turn it on but the screen remained black. ‘Shit! So, I was on a website that said people who attempt suicide have to go to the hospital, even if they’re not physically hurt.’

‘So I can be shipped off to a madhouse and feel even worse?’

‘Not really. They’ll just check up on you and keep you safe for a night or two. Then we can find you a therapist.’

‘We?’

Chad’s eyes went all over the place. 'Well, yeah. Like I said, even if you don’t want to date me, we’re still a team. I won’t try to meddle too much since you know how that turned out, but you can always talk to me if you don’t like the therapist or whatever, and we can switch ‘em.’ He stood up and held out his hand. Noah hesitated but took it, and as soon as he stood up he started sobbing loudly into Chad’s chest. His shoulders relaxed when Chad put his arms around them and patted his head. 

The two walked like this, with Chad still holding Noah close and whispering words of encouragement into his ear. Chad helped Noah into the car and drove him to the hospital while Noah relayed to him the various reasons he attempted suicide. Chad knew most of this, but he listened anyway.

When the doctors took Noah away, Chad sat in the waiting room with knees that repeatedly bounced up and down. He looked around him and felt fear strike his heart when he noticed how plain and lifeless the white walls were. Was this the right environment for Noah?

This fear clawed at his heart for a good half hour until a doctor called out to him and took him to Noah’s ward.

‘You should feel proud,’ the doctor said.

Chad raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m supposed to be proud? What was I supposed to do? Let him die?’

The doctor chuckled. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘Am I really allowed to see him this early?’

‘He wanted to see you. He said he’d attempt suicide again if I didn’t let you in.’

Noah’s face was already fresher, though his eyes were still red and puffy. He gave Chad a small smirk.

‘Do I look sexier now in a blue gown?’

Chad sighed in relief. ‘Please don’t tempt me. You’re doing surprisingly well if you can joke like that.’

Noah scratched his cheek. ‘I thought about what you said and you were right. That forum just made me worse. I… I feel like a class-A moron.’ He let tears escape from his eyes.

‘You’re not a moron. You just got sucked into it.’

Noah wiped his eyes and raised his head at the doctor. ‘Uh, can Chad and I speak privately?’ The doctor nodded and closed the curtain. ‘Can you come here?' he asked Chad, who obliged. He held his arm up and, after a few seconds of curling up his fingers, cupped Chad’s cheek. 'Thank you for putting up with me.’

‘I’m not ‘putting up with you’. People don’t just ‘put up with’ the ‘people they love.’

Noah averted his gaze. ‘Love, huh?’

‘Uh, well, um, I meant… I meant to say ‘like’ but I just blurted out that word and I didn’t mean to come across as creepy or too forward or anything like that, uh, so…’

Noah choked out a laugh, his smile like that of someone who had been shot by an arrow that just missed a vital organ. He shifted his hand until it was under Chad’s chin, pulling him a tiny bit closer. 

‘Why’d it have to be a guy?’ he grumbled. ‘I never saw my future self liking, or loving, or… whatever... another guy.’

A big, dumb smile adorned Chad’s face. Noah slowly and tentatively pulled him even closer and brushed his lips against his. As he closed his eyes he initially envisioned smoke, but the image quickly evaporated. The kiss was fleeting, but it was enough for now.

[antiquecompass]

So this was supposed to be for Untamed Fest Day Four: Scene, but since it’s more a combo of various scenes of Jin Ling’s fight with Jin Chan and every “wait until my uncle gets here” bit, I don’t think it quite fits the fest, so I don’t want to clog up the tag. (This will happen with a few prompts just bc the whole ‘This is an AU thing’.)

Anyway, here’s a Jin Ling at Lan Academy ficlet:

Jin Ling’s path to Lan Academy hadn’t been the easiest one in terms of how long it took him to get there. He’d been homeschooled most of his life. His parents had kept him home with an entire staff of tutors for plenty of reasons–his mom’s work hours as she managed her restaurants, his dad’s travels around the world, the drama of his grandfather’s various children coming out of everywhere and trying to get to any Jin family member in order to get to the head of the family, and his family’s general mistrust of educational institutions after the one time he attended kindergarten and the school bus dropped him off at the wrong spot. (It was later revealed the bus driver was one his grandfather’s former mistresses. He’d been pulled from school and tutored at home from that point on.)

It’d been a safe childhood, with an education catered to his own interests, but it’d been a lonely one. The only friends he’d ever really had were his cousins, his cousins’ friends, and his fellow trainees in the local archery and gymnastics clubs. He’d been the happiest kid ever when his little sisters were born. Finally some other kids at the house, even if they were five years younger than him. It meant he wasn’t alone in the makeshift classroom built on their estate. 

As he grew older he found he actually enjoyed helping teach his younger siblings. His sisters were like little sponges, wanting to learn everything. And while his little brother was still too young to learn anything other than that dump trucks were cool, he was going to miss teaching him too. 

Everything changed when it came time for him to start high school. Or rather, he begged his parents to let him attend Lan Academy. His older cousin, Sizhui, was there now. One of his uncles was the Headmaster, another a teacher there, and two more of his uncles lived in the area. Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen, his only other close friends, also attended the Academy. And wouldn’t it look good on his college transcripts to attend such a prestigious school? Plus, they had a world renowned archery program, so he’d wouldn’t even fall back on his training. He’d be able to keep aiming for his Olympic dreams while also obtaining a world class education.

After months of cajoling, and probably the most detailed tour of the Lan Academy campus that had ever been given, plus a promise from his Uncle Cheng that he could live with him and Headmaster Lan, and could bring Fairy with him, he’d finally gotten his wish.

He should’ve known the adage, Be Careful What You Wish For, existed for a reason. 

No one had told him that Jin Chan was also going to be attending Lan Academy this year. 

It made for a hell of a first day.

While Uncle Xichen was kind and nice–perhaps too much of both–they’d never been that close, at least not as Jin Ling got older and spent more time pursuing sports rather than the arts. There was also, supposedly, some bad blood between Uncle Xichen and his Uncle Yao. Jin Ling had never really paid much attention to those rumors. He was far closer to his Uncle Cheng, but since Uncle Cheng had to work down in the city during the week, it’d been an awkward first day breakfast of Uncle Xichen trying to make conversation while Jin Ling barely touched his food and clung to Fairy as long as he could.

He missed his mom’s cooking. He missed his own personal archery field. He missed his dad’s warm hugs. His missed his sisters singing everything they ate before eating it and his brother building small towers with his Cheerios. He missed learning his lessons with Fairy draped over his feet.

The classes themselves hadn’t been too bad, the homework already assigned about what he’d expected. He’d been counting the hours to the lunch, when he’d finally be able to catch up with Sizhui, Jingyi, and Zizhen, but as he walked out of his math class, crossing the path between buildings to the cafeteria, he’d run into Jin fucking Chan.

Out of all the various descendants and their kids from his grandfather’s inability to keep it in his pants, Jin Chan was his least favorite. An arrogant fuckwit who had grown up jealous of Jin Ling, he’d become an even more arrogant douche canoe as a teenager.

Jin Chan was the type of asshole who lacked in any real wit, so he liked to throw his height and weight around to intimidate people. Uncle Zhan would have called him weak to his face. Uncle Cheng wouldn’t have even paid him any mind, ghosting him with the type of glare and cold shoulder he did best. Uncle Ying would’ve politely belittled him until the point  that Jin Chan would walk away in shame. 

Jin Ling wasn’t yet as intimidating as any of his uncles–one day he hoped to silence people with a single glare like all of them could. Having already skipped a year, and having a late birthday, he was far younger, and smaller, and cursed with his mother’s more petite frame, than his other classmates. He’d never been particularly embarrassed of his compact form–it did wonders for him in his archery competitions and gymnastics meets. But when it came to idiotic assholes who thought he’d back down just because he was smaller than them, he knew he had three options. One: talk shit, get hit. Two: try to take them out at the ankles. Three: run for help. 

Three might not have been the most courageous of the options, but it was only his first day, he was boarding at the friggin’ Headmaster’s house, and if he got detention his mother would drive up here, grab him by his ear, and drag him all the way back to Boston. Or Uncle Cheng would do it for her–yelling at Jin Lin the entire drive back home. Or Uncle Xichen would give him the I’m Not Mad, I’m Just Disappointed face. Jin Chan wasn’t worth all of that.

Jin Ling knew he was stubborn as hell, which he came by honestly, but he wasn’t stupid. And he had a deep sense of propriety. Both of his grandmothers had seen to that. Jin Chan thought he could provoke him into a brawl. Maybe if they were at his grandfather’s house he’d let it, but this was Lan Academy, and Jin Ling knew the rules.

As Jin Chan raised his fist to hit him, Jin Ling grinned at who he saw in the distance.

“Uncle!” he called. 

“Headmaster Lan is his uncle?” one of the boys in Jin Chan’s gang hissed. “Bro, what the fuck?”

“He’s not his real uncle,” Jin Chan said. 

“I would very much beg to differ there, Mister Jin,” Headmaster Lan said as he approached the group, his eyes not missing a single detail.

He held a brown bag in his hands that he gave to Jin Ling. “Your Uncle Cheng made a lunch for you. He was worried you’d find the food in our cafeteria not to your usual tastes. It’s one of your mother’s recipes.”

“Thank you,” Jin Ling said as he took the food.

“How has your first day been so far?” he asked, eyes cutting to the side. “Besides current events?”

“It’s gone well,” Jin Ling said. “The library is amazing.”

“It’s one of our points of pride,” Headmaster Lan agreed. He patted Jin Ling’s shoulder. “Now, go meet your cousin before he breaks poor Mister Ouyang.”

Jin Ling peered around Headmaster Lan to see Zizhen struggling to hold both Sizhui and Jingyi back. 

“Praise be to Allah,” Zizhen muttered when the other two stopped struggling. He stood up, back to his full height, and shook out his hands. “I think you two sprained something.”

“Shh,” Jingyi said, slapping a hand over his mouth. “I want to see what Headmaster does.”

Jin Ling was curious too, so he stood beside Sizhui, letting his older cousin run a soothing hand through his hair, and stood back to watch the show.

“Fighting is forbidden at Lan Academy. We have a Zero Tolerance Policy for bullying. Cliques are discouraged. It is against our Honor Code to prey on the smaller and younger. Since you clearly have forgotten our teachings here, two weeks of detention for you, Jin Chan, where you will copy all of our rules so that you will not forget them. Three weeks for your friends, so they will know to find a better leader in the future.”

Jin Ling grinned with the feeling of vindication and justice. 

Maybe Lan Academy wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

[cjs-got-a-selfship]

Jasper/Page- pt 5/9

pt- 4

Two nights later, Page resolved herself to go back to Griffith Park first thing as soon as the sun went down. Since she left the first time, she hadn’t stopped thinking about how she could repay her debt. The first thing that came to mind was information With the help of the rat pack, she was pretty in the know about most things going on in Los Angeles. She prided herself on being successfully pretty nosey, but then she remembered Nosferatu were notorious for knowing anything and everything about everybody. If walls could talk, they’d know about half the shit the Nosferatu do. Information probably wasn’t gonna cut it.

She knew there wasn’t much she could offer Jasper materialistically, but she remembered his library and decided to at least try and offer something to add to it as a gesture of good will. Having no idea what sort of books he’d want or what he could possibly be looking for, she simply went to a local used bookstore and looked for the oldest book they had: a small old leather bound book, the cover so worn the title was indiscernible. A quick thumb through the pages proved equally unhelpful, everything was in another language she didn’t understand and couldn’t place. She snagged it without a word to the cashier closing up for the night, and headed off toward the park.

Finding the way back to the service door wasn’t terribly difficult with the aid of the rats. Luckily they were a touch better at navigation than she was. 

For the first time in a long time, she found her stomach turning in anxiety. Why was she so nervous? So many events in her life had been nerve wracking before, and those made sense. Doing recon on a dangerous group of individuals? Sure. Sharing a room with multitudes of powerful and influential figures in both the Camarilla and the Anarchs? Of course. These and more without much of a sweat, so why was this causing so much uncertainty? It was one Nosferatu. 

Her steps started to drag as the service door came into view over the hill. 

“C’mon Page, get it together.” she muttered to herself.

She reached a hand to her waistband, double checking her cargo. Knife, check. Book, check. Good to go. She took a deep breath as she approached the door, raised her fist, and let it strike the heavy rusted iron door a few times before taking a couple steps back.

A minute passed… two… three… no response.

“Y’know maybe this was a bad idea-”

Chitters.

“Maybe he’s not home. Maybe he’s already left for the night and I missed him anyway. If he is here who said he’d ever answer the door anyway-”

More chitters and squeaks.

“Well maybe he left the other way! Did anyone ever look? I didn’t ask anyone to keep an eye on the other door-”

Chitter chitter squeak.

“Goddamn you guys and your impeccable initiative… I really hope you guys don’t end up making me look bad.”

Chitter.

“By creepin’ on guys without me asking to creep on ‘em!”

Squeak squeak.

“Well yeah, I do ask you guys to creep around on some people, but I don’t ask for anything beyond a reasonable amount of creeping! Anything more than what I ask for is usually too much!”

Squeak chitter squeak.

“Of course I want eyes on the other door too. Just… try not to go check places out that I don’t ask for, okay?”

Minutes seemed to drag on for ages, and it certainly didn’t do any favors for Page’s nerves. From the reports it seemed like nobody had gone in or out all night, and there didn’t seem to be any activity inside either. Harder to tell on that front, though. She had explicitly requested no one try and go scope things out inside, not like it was possible either way. The service door that led straight into Jasper’s haven was too heavy and too well sealed for the rats to get through that way, and the only other door they knew of led down to the labyrinth. She was not about to lose any friends to that cursed place.

Where was he? 

She stood there in front of the door for nearly ten minutes in more or less silent contemplation and internal argument, when a familiar growling voice echoed in the darkness.

“What… the hell… are you doing here?”

Page couldn’t help but jump a bit in her skin, “Jesus Christ! You gotta warn a girl or something, man!” 

Jasper appeared about five feet away, same decrepit tattered black hoodie pulled up, shadows lightly obscuring the eerily deadpan expression on his face. She couldn’t help but find herself slightly entranced by his piercing gaze staring back with intent. His pale wide eyes seemed to almost read her thoughts as she had them.

“My question, please.”

“I was looking for you.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“I know, but I just… I couldn’t get… any of this out of my head, and I’ve been thinking about everything and… I had to come and repay you.”

His expression remained unchanged, but the slight bit of hesitation suggested some gears may be turning, “What for?”

Page was almost incredulous, “Y-you saved my life, dude!”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did! When I was down there and found the door to your place you could have… turned me back into the labyrinth, kicked my ass to the curb outside to the sun, hell you could have KILLED me then and there if you wanted to! And you honestly could have gotten away with it too! But you didn’t! You let me crash on your couch! A complete stranger who intruded on your space! You had every right to get rid of me any way you wanted, but instead you literally saved-”

“-Okay I will stop you right there,” Jasper’s expression was unreadable, “One… you’re right, I could have gotten rid of you any way I wanted to… but that doesn’t mean that I should have… or that it would have been a good idea. Two… I suppose you just caught me in a particularly… generous mood… that night. Three… I believe we made a deal, and I didn’t want to deal with any of… this… again, and I still don’t.”.”

“Yeah, we made a deal. A deal that you’d have my silence, but you never said anything about not coming back.” she shot back, not hiding the air of cockiness in her remark.

A frustrated grin crossed Jasper’s face as he let out a short growl under his breath. “I guess I hoped… the ‘not returning’ bit was implied.”

“You gotta be a bit more explicit in your terms of service, my friend.” she said with a chuckle.

Another hiss, “Noted… so was there something specific you meant when you wanted to… ‘repay me’ as you said? I have things I need to do and I’d rather like to move this along.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah… I uuuhh,” she reached into the back of her waistband and pulled out the small pilfered book, holding it out to Jasper. “It’s… well I’m not really sure what exactly it is to be honest. I just… I saw your library and stuff and thought maybe you’d want to add to it or something. I didn’t know what kinds of books you liked or what you wanted, but it’s in another language and that’s cool I guess? I dunno…”

As she rambled on about the possibility of the book somehow being immensely fascinating and doing her best to make it sound appealing despite knowing next to nothing about it, Jasper took the book and slowly flipped through some of the pages. Not at all paying attention to her he skimmed the contents, gaze focusing and eyes widening in realization. He suddenly turned his gaze back to Page, eyes searching.

“Where did you find this?”

“Uhm… some used book store in town? Why?”

“This… I appreciate this… thank you.”

Page was genuinely taken aback by this, “ Oh! Uh… you’re welcome, Jasper… What’s so special about it?”

“I have… been looking for this book for a long time… and since I can’t exactly go strolling into any book store I want, it’s been difficult to find the ones I need.”

“Well, if it’s books you want, maybe I could go and get some more?” she seemed hesitantly optimistic.

His demeanor slowly started shifting, losing intensity, and his expression seemed to soften. “I suppose, if you’re truly insistent on paying me back--which you really don’t need to--this… would suffice… in addition to your silence.”

The fire seemed to be relit as Page’s expression lightened, “Y-yeah! Yeah I can do that! Uhm… is there anything specific you’re looking for maybe? I can get looking.”

“Yes… I’m looking for anything related to… the occult. Legit or phoney, doesn’t matter. And I have taught myself how to read a few different languages so… don’t let that be an issue if you find it.”

“Sure, yeah I can look for that no problem. I’m glad to help.”

“Right… thank you… now if you don’t mind, I still have some other things that need my attention so…” 

Page blinked, thoughts coming back to her. She didn’t even realize how lost she was. “Oh, yeah, uh… I’ll see you around then, Jasper!”

“Sure… see you around, Page.”

And with that, she regathered her wits and headed on her way; back to her own business for the remainder of the night.

pt- 6

[heavens-crown]

You’re Mine

Synopsis: You met Dean and Sam when they were hunting a vampire two years ago. When it was realized you had no one else Dean and Sam offered to take you to their friend in South Dakota, but after a lot of persuading and puppy eyes they caved and allowed you to join them on future hunts. Now Deans a demon, you can’t find him anywhere, and you really want to punch Crowley in his stupid face.

Words: 1882

Warning: Cursing, reference to sexual encounter, minor NSFW, minor violence

A/N: This isn’t my first fan-fiction I’ve ever written but it is however my first supernatural one. Enjoy!

Time slowed to a crawl as you looked up from your laptop. Sam was carrying in Dean, but something was wrong. Dean covered in blood, tears rolling down Sam’s face, it could only mean one thing.

“No.” You whispered. Shaking your head, you numbly got to your feet and slowly trailed after Sam who was headed to Deans room, the same room you would watch Game of Thrones in, the same room Dean would let you lay down with him after a nightmare. Standing in the doorway you stared in disbelief at what was in front of you.

“Y/N, you shouldn’t be here. Go in the library and wait for me.” Sam said, his voice breaking. Scrubbing a hand down his face Sam finally turned to face you. “He’s dead Y/N. But I’m going to bring him back. I swear it.”

That had been two months ago. Now you and Sam were tracking dean through the US trying to find a way to bring him home. The first two weeks were the hardest when you and Sam realized he was gone. Everything tasted like saw dust, the nightmares came back full strength, you had more panic attacks. Sam had been there for you, never wavering, always reassuring you day after day, ‘I’ll bring him back. I swear it.’

“I’m gonna head down to the bar Sam. I need a drink, and maybe some locals will have seen something.” You pronounced as you stood from your seat in the motel. Sam looked up, the same sadness in his expression that had been there the past few months. He was worried about you, as was Cas who claimed that even in your haggard state you were still pretty.

“You sure Y/N? I know you can handle yourself but that doesn’t change the fact that Dean’s a demon now and we need to be careful if we encounter him.” Sam said gently. Throwing Sam, a large smile you walked over and gave him a hug, mindful of his sprained elbow.

“I’ll be fine Sammy, I just need a drink. Besides I have the cuffs on me and my angel blade. If anything goes down I’ll holler.” With reluctance stamped all over his face Sam nodded and handed you the keys to the car.

Sliding into the front seat you took a deep breath and wrinkled your nose a bit. Fake leather, old fast food, and socks it smelled nothing like the Impala did. Soft leather, old spice, and something else you could never pin point. You loved that car, almost as much as you loved its primary owner. Thinking about the car sent you down the memory lane.

“You take that back you angry little midget!” Exclaimed dean with a laugh. Laughing just as hard you shook your head.

“Hell no, you know I’m right! Cake is way better than pie.” You laughed. Trying to suppress his laughter Dean tried to give you a stern look, but he failed as a smile broke across his face. It was around midnight; the road was empty and Sam was stretched across the back-seat sound asleep. The second trial had taken toll on the hunter and he was always exhausted.

“Take it back Y/N or else.” Dean teased with a laugh. You were still laughing but something in you stood to attention at the dark note underneath his teasing. Smirking you turned to fully face the older hunter, prodding him with your toe.

“Or else what?” You asked with false innocence. Stopping at the red light the look he gave you a look that sent shivers down your spine and made your stomach clench in arousal.

“Or else I’ll spank that pretty little ass of yours.”

Sighing into your drink you smiled at the bartender again. He was nice enough, pretty cute, but nothing compared to Dean. Your thoughts were always on him these days. The days you spent together, how he trained you, nights you shared a bed, it was always something concerning him. When you found out he was still alive it felt like you could breathe again. Then when Sam told you that he was now a demon it felt like ice had been poured on you.

“You ok miss?” The bartender asked softly. There were two other patrons in the small place and neither paid you two any attention. Smiling at him you nodded.

“Yes, I’m fine, just travelling down memory lane ya know?” Smiling at you he nodded and then braced himself on the bar.

“I get that. Most people come here to do that. I’m Ben by the way.” He reached out his hand to you, and you took it giving it a soft shake. His hands were rough and calloused, and they seemed to swallow your hand whole.

“Y/N.” You reply softly. Letting go of his hand you curl it around your glass of whiskey and glance around. “Do you own this place or just work here Ben?” Seeming pleased you asked he grins.

“Own it actually. My Great-Grandpa opened it back in 1920. My family has ran it ever since. What about you? What do you do for work?” He asks. Locking eyes with him you pause briefly. There wasn’t anything but pure curiosity in his eyes.

“I’m a travelling photographer. I do some commission work but I do mostly landscapes and nature shots. I’m working on putting together a portfolio.” You answer softly. It wasn’t a lie either. Before Dean and Sam you were a photographer who focused mostly on nature. You had pieces in magazines, galleries, hell even celebrities sometimes hired you. But then a run in with a vampire and the Winchester brothers threw that out the window.

“That sounds nice.” Ben replied. The chiming of the door opening had him glancing up to whoever had just walked in the door. “What can I get you sir?”

“Whiskey.” My body froze and every nerve ending came to life. I knew that voice, and I hadn’t heard it in two months. The voice that would calm me from nightmares, bring me back from panic attacks, and brought everything female in me to attention. It took everything in me not to turn around and launch myself at him.

“You got it boss.” Ben turned and made Dean his glass of whiskey setting it on the bar. I could see Deans hand, god I missed those hands, reach down and pick up the glass. One of the other patrons called out for Ben so with a smile to us he turned and headed to the other end of the bar. My heart was beating out of my chest now. He was sat so close to me his thigh pressed against mine, its warmth reaching my leg even through my jeans.

“So. How’s my pretty little girl doing? Miss me?” Dean asked with a smirk. I turned to look at him and I locked eyes with him. Fuck I missed him.

“Hello Dean.” Was my simple reply. His smirk turned into a grin as he looked me up and down. Green eyes lingered on the low cut of my top and narrowed.

“Were you wearing that hoping you would get some cock in you? And here I thought I was the only one that was ever going to fuck you.” Dean hummed out. Eyes narrowing, I ground my teeth so hard my jaw hurt. Dean had been the only one to ever fuck me, and if I got my way it would stay like that. But I forced those words down and fought to keep my expression neutral.

“You have been the only one to fuck me, until you ran off with your bestie Crowley. Besides the bartender Ben is kind of cute, maybe he’ll be willing to get in the sheets with me.” You answered with a smile. Deans eyes narrowed and the smirk wiped off his face. Taking a swig from his whiskey he set it down only to lean toward you.

“Listen little girl. I’m not here to watch you banter with the bartender or anyone else. I am here to take back what’s mine.” Dean said softly. Eyes still locked onto mine I swallowed the lump in my throat and kept his stare.

“Oh, and what is it that apparently belongs to you?” You ask. The grin is back and he leans a bit closer.

“That’s you little girl. And before tonight is over I’m gonna fuck you within an inch of your life.” Dean growled. Just like that I felt my stomach clench and I could feel my pussy start to dampen. Shit I missed him.

“Not a chance asshole.” You hiss back. With a smirk he leans back, drinks the last of his whiskey and throws a fifty on the table. Before you can do anything else he was stood up and snagging your wrist to pull you to your feet.

“Dean!” Shushing you he pulled you out of the bar and toward the impala. Stumbling after him, you tried to get your mind in order. Several thoughts went through your head. Turning to you Dean smirked and then pushed you against the Impalas door. Before you could do anything, he slammed his lips against yours pulling a moan from your throat. Fuck you missed him. Gripping his shirt, you deepened the kiss, practically melting at his soft growl.

“I missed you little one.” Dean murmured against your ear before he nipped your ear. Humming softly, you pulled one hand from him to move it to your jacket. Feeling the movement, he grinned against your neck. “My pretty girl getting undressed for me?”

“Not exactly.” Before he could process the words, you slammed your knee into his stomach. Shoving him off and around you pulled out the demon hand cuffs and latched one to one of his wrists. Snarling he went to grab you. Ducking under his arm you yanked the cuff to his free hand and successfully latched it. Once it was latch you kicked him in the knee making his legs buckle, forcing him to one knee. “I’m sorry Dean.”

“Crazy little minx.” He grumbled. He glared up at you and you could see the frustration in his gaze. “Get the hand cuffs off of me little one. Come on.” Ignoring him you focused on getting the keys to the impala and opening it. Helping Dean up and into the back of the car you hopped into the front seat. Starting the car, you began to pull from the parking lot before giving Sam a call.

“Sam, I got him. Meet me at the bunker.”

[legendslover]

Rule number one:        don’t fuck with librarians

Prompt: The three times Richie Tozier broke the rules, the one time he didn't. [Library AU]

Pairings: Reddie, Implied Stenbrough

Warnings: Swearing, Mostly Fluff, Soft Richie, Not As Germaphobic As Usual Eddie, No Mention Of Pennywise, Just Two Boys Flirting And Bickering, First Time Meeting

(Title coming from a quote!)

Aged Up Characters!

Richie Tozier was running late. So late. On his way back from Beverly Marsh’s place, where they had hung out as usual, chatting about music and life in general, he had suddenly remembered his original plans: joining Bill and Stan at the local library. He was so dead. If they knew that he had purposely ditched them for a girl, whoever she was, they would be so pissed. Richie, despite being the loudest person of the school, was probably also one of the smartest, which exasperated most of his classmates to no end. Fortunately, his friends had been used to his behavior since first grade and knew how to benefit from that cleverness instead of throwing a fit about it. Except they would exactly do that today if they thought Richie was letting them down, simply because he was too smart for them. Richie knew he was certainly overreacting but he had already witnessed Stan feeling this way multiple times. Even though they were used to his constant teasing, he didn’t want them to take it to heart. The least Richie wanted was to hurt his friends. They were the only ones forcing him to stay in town at this point. Unlike the others, he didn’t need to wait for college to leave Derry behind: surely because he didn’t plan on going anyway. Between his job at the drugstore and the music shop, he had cumulated a large enough amount of money to get his own car or a plane ticket to New York, Philly or Boston. As soon as his eighteen birthday would come, he was out of that hole.

His racing mind was disturbing his march along the sidewalk. Unaware of his current surroundings, he stumbled right before the library and shuffled through the large doors of the place, heading towards his friends. What he didn’t expect was to find himself colliding into a small and hard figure, a half dozen books tumbling to the floor in the process.

“Watch the fuck where you’re going, asshole!” hissed a strangely sweet voice.

Still staring at the books scattered against the carpet, a slow smirk progressively formed on Richie’s lips, not a tiniest bit intimidated by the boy’s tone.

“I could say the same about you.”

“There’s no running in the library!” The boy grunted, clearly becoming frustrated.

When Richie finally raised his eyes and fixed his glasses with his usual weird face scrunching, he was met with the first sight of Eddie Kaspbrak and what was certainly not going to be the last.

The second time Richie met Eddie Kaspbrak, new librarian’s son according to high school sources, he was going back to the library by himself. The night had been rough for several reasons, but mostly consisting of his dad beating the shit out of him. It was a chilly Friday night, which meant the last place where Richie could go was still open until nine. He ran his long fingers along his face, wincing when his hand came across his bruised –most certainly broken- nose. He wished nothing but to be at calm right now or he would explode of rage for certain. 

The saturated light hit his features as soon as he opened the doors of the library, letting a breeze of cold air rushing into the warm place. Behind the counter, a middle-aged woman (probably Eddie’s mother) was reading quietly, enjoying the last moments at work. Her lips instantly started to open once she had gotten a good look of Richie’s state but the comment that followed wasn’t hers.

“What the hell happened to you, Tozier?”

Richie, perplexed as to why the rather small teenager knew his name, didn’t let his shock come to the surface.

“How do you know my name?”

“We’re at the same school, duh.” Eddie shrugged nonchalantly, digging his feet into the ground. 

“You’re the new kid, how come you already know so much about me?” Richie teased, rather enjoying the blush that creeped up Eddie’s cheeks while his mother gave them a look, before heading at the back of the office.

“Stop thinking I’m a stalker, you idiot! It’s hard to go a day without hearing about you when teachers are constantly yelling your name in the halls!”

“I see you’ve been paying attention to me,” Richie playfully said.

“Oh c’mon, give me a fucking break! As if you hadn’t heard my name already, with the rumors that have been circling around me-“

“Wait, which rumors?” Richie interrupted, his air softening at the sudden dismayed look on the brown-haired boy’s face.

“Really? You don’t know about them? They- ugh, never mind.” Eddie looked at his feet defeatingly, clearly upset about something that Richie had no idea about. He felt bad for the kid: not only was it awful enough to move in fucking Derry but being treated like crap on his first days was the worst. Richie could definitely relate to this situation, despite having lived in this town most of his life. 

“Hey,” he suggested softly, “Wanna go read comics with me? As you’ve probably seen, I’m not having the time of my life right now, so I wouldn’t mind a little bit of company.”

Eddie gulped quietly, probably not expecting this. Richie’s heart tightened at this because he knew for a fact that Eddie Kaspbrack was probably the same loser as he was, rarely receiving kindness from most of people. 

As Eddie was rounding the counter to join him, Richie rummaged through his jeans pockets in search of the granola bar he barely had time to grab, before leaving his house. He startled as he heard Eddie’s screech behind him, when the other boy saw the bar in his hand.

“There’s no eating in the library!” 

Richie laughed wholeheartedly at the boy’s expression and they bantered back and forth playfully on the way to the bookshelves. 

When Eddie and Richie met for the third time, the situation was definitely not as comfortable as the previous one. As Richie barged in the library on a Saturday afternoon, one week after their second encounter, Eddie was perched on the library ladder, reorganizing books in alphabetical order on the top shelves. He was so small that he could barely reach the novels and had to stand on his tiptoes. Richie watched him for a little while, silently, as Eddie muttered to himself about god knew what. 

He realized as he gazed at the boy’s short fingers pulling out the books, that a sentiment he knew all too well, was spreading through his chest: affection. Pure affection as he stared fondly at Eddie being Eddie, organized, steady and perfect. He didn’t know how this feeling had emerged but he wasn’t going to try and tone it down, now that he finally had an idea of what happiness could taste like. 

All of a sudden, as if Eddie could have sensed someone staring at his back, turned around on the ladder and looked puzzled for a second, watching Richie back in the eyes. They remained in this position for a moment, before a child scream interrupted them and frightened Eddie on his ladder. 

Richie watched in horror as Eddie accidentally loosened his grip on the wood and slipped, letting the books crash to the ground at the same time. Richie didn’t have much time to react: he was by Eddie’s side in two steps as the latter’s scream immediately stopped when he realized he had hit someone’s arms instead of the floor. 

It took a little while for Richie to see that his friend was in fact not okay: his breaths were terribly fast and his face was paling by the second.

“Eds!” He yelled, concern all over his face and judging what to do. “Deep breaths, Eds, one at a time…” 

Richie knew he didn’t have the most soothing voice but he couldn’t bare watching Eddie getting worse while he lay there in his arms, trying to do the best he could at catching his breathe. 

“Oh my god, oh my god…” A sudden and familiar voice reached his ears. “What did you do to him? He has asthma!”

Miss Kaspbrak appeared at his side and nearly ripped her son away from his hands while Eddie was still desperately attempting to breathe. 

“Here, here…” She cooed while pushing what seemed like an inhaler between Eddie’s slightly purple lips. 

“Is he going to be okay? I mean-“

“Just go.” Miss Kasprak spit forcefully while checking her son for possible injuries. 

“What?”

Richie didn’t want to leave Eddie or be the cause of Miss Kasprak’s hatred while he wasn’t exactly the cause of Eddie’s incident. 

“I SAID GO!”

As Richie clumsily got to the doors, all shaken up by the situation, he couldn’t help but looked back one last time at Eddie’s figure lying on the floor, barely moving. He shivered, promising himself he would never approach Eddie again. Because he knew he would be able to stay away from him. At least, for now. But there was one thing he was sure he could never do: hurt Eddie Kaspbrak. 

Richie dragged his feet along the sidewalk as Bill and Stan were chatting animatedly ahead of him, seemingly having forgotten he was even here. Their hands kept brushing against each other’s and it didn’t look like they were going to stop anytime soon. Richie’s heart broke a little at the sight, subconsciously wishing that Eddie could be by his side. It had been two weeks since the librarian ladder incident. Despite being certain that Miss Kaspbrak disliked him for a whole another reason, he didn’t have the heart to face Eddie yet. 

But Bill being Bill and Stan being Stan, they could no longer study at home and refused to hear Richie complaining one more time. And Richie being Richie, he eventually decided to tag along because he could no longer stay at home as well, but for a whole different reason. He had covered his usual ruffled hair with a gray beanie, because the December cold weather was starting to hit his skin but mostly because he needed an excuse to hide as best as he could.   They entered the library as silently as possible and Richie headed right away towards the tables in the very back, where no one would come bothering him. Despite his cold and red cheeks, his hands were sweating with nervousness. He couldn’t fathom the feeling that was crawling up his spine and leaving him speechless. As he was scattering his sheets and textbooks across the table, a distinct thud of a heavy object clattering on the floor, quickly alarmed him. 

Right behind his chair was standing a rather sheepish Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie thought that the sight of his flushed cheeks was rapidly becoming his favorite thing. If multiple ideas to make Eddie blush came to mind, he kept a neutral façade, struggling to fight off the smile forming on his lips. He had promised to himself that he would behave and as upset as it was making him, that he would cut ties with Eddie whenever the situation presented itself. Turned out it had happened faster than he thought. 

“Listen-“

“Listen-“

They both awkwardly cringed. Richie hid his face in his sweater, bracing himself for the spiteful words. But they never came. All at once, before Richie could comprehend what was vaguely occurring, tiny hands found his face, dark eyes searched for his own and seconds later, smooth lips captured his, erasing every last rational thought. His heart went thundering in his ribcage. Edward fucking Kaspbrak was kissing him. His lips tasted just as Richie had imagined them: sweet, clean and incredibly soft. He was immensely aware of the noises they were originating but really couldn’t care less. Dragged to his feet by the front of his shirt, Richie had really no other choice but to follow the smaller teen between the shelves.

“B-but-… Isn’t there a “no kissing in the library” rule?” Richie smirked, clumsily grabbing Eddie’s waist between his shaking hands.  

Out of breath, the boy in concern gripped Richie’s tight curls under his beanie, pulling him towards his chest and ready to quiet him.

“I can make an exception for this time.”

Hope you enjoyed this little AU! If so, leave a kudo on this link (http://archiveofourown.org/works/12421947) and comment your thoughts here! That would truly make me the happiest since English isn’t my first language and any kind of constructive feedback would be appreciated!