#my mom literally snatched my phone and tried to look through it in the line for a fucking rollercoaster

[plinkcat-gif]

day 2 of 4 with my family. i only want to kill myself a lot

[damnlance]

Klance angsty prompt 6 please 👀

Klangst Prompt #6

6. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever”

Summary: Lately, Lance has been stressed beyond the point of breaking… The end of the war was 3 years ago and yet, it’s not enough time to pass for Lance to feel better. Not even close. Everyone has always called him a hero. And since the day they landed back on earth, everyone has gone so far to ask for photos and autographs and all that. These days Lance is sick of it.

Or; the pressures of being the ‘savior of earth’ has been building up inside of Lance, causing him to erupt on any and everyone.

Good thing he has his amazing boyfriend.

-there’s a slow start, but I PROMISE it’s klance so just keep reading!

-also galra (kitten) Keith ?? I love him

-

It all started with a fangirl just a few weeks ago.

Lance decided to walk to his favorite coffee shop one chilly afternoon. He woke up really late and was immediately craving something sweet yet bitter. And since he lives with most of his family, running out of coffee five days after buying a brand new pack of it is very common, especially when no one wants to buy more for whatever reason.

So there Lance was, walking down the street. Hands tucked into his blue lion hoodie (thanks to all the merch the fans of voltron have made over the years), making his way to the closest coffee shop near his home. And then he hears the high pitched squeal of a girl at least 10 feet away from him. Then 9 feet.. then 6.. then 4 because she’s literally running at him with the speed of a hundred cheetahs chasing a gazelle until she’s right there, face to face with Lance.

“Oh my god!!” She yelled, jumping up and down like some 5 year old girl getting a puppy. She was about 5’7, short brown hair and huge blue eyes that almost resembled Lance’s. She wore this giant faux fur coat and beanie to match, and her phone was IN LANCE’S FACE.

She was all over him and it was attracting others to stare their way. Lance tried to calm her down by smiling and using a little of his charm but it was just making the girl fangirl even more. So he took a picture with her to be on his way before the coffee shop got too busy. But she wouldn’t back off. Apparently she wasn’t satisfied with the picture, something about how her eyes were closed? Or how blurry it came out? Lance couldn't remember, he just wanted his coffee.

The girl kept hounding him and following him, demanding that he retake the picture with her. Lance let her down easy, saying how he needed to be someplace important and that he was running late. The girl kept pushing him. Following his every move, right on his heels. Begging, pleading with him to take more pictures because she ‘needed them,’ whatever that meant. Lance tried his hardest to be nice and polite because as a former paladin of voltron and as one of seven someone’s who have saved the entire universe, his image is everything. Without him or his former paladins, there would probably be no earth. So he stopped in his tracks and took a better picture with the girl.

He felt good to see her happy because of something that he had done. Plus he looked really good in that picture, who knew the earth’s natural lighting at 1pm could make his skin look so smooth? Once he gave his approval of the better pic, he was on his way again, hoping that the line to the coffee shop wasn’t even longer now. As he started to fast walk down the busy sidewalk, something yanked him back by the neck and he came crashing down. Literally. He fell right back on his ass and when he looked up, this same crazy girl was looming over him like a mad woman. With his blue hand-knit wool scarf dangling from her grabby hands. The anger that had been simmering in Lance’s gut was at a full blown boil and he was just about ready to explode. So.. he kinda did..

Long and embarrassing story short, Lance yelled at her. He snatched his blue scarf out of her hands so fast, it scared her, and as he rubbed his most likely bruised tailbone, he got in her face and began blaming her for the world's most horrible fan interaction. He was so angry, that he balled his fists, stomped his foot and had veins protruding out of his neck and forehead. He called her names and most likely spit in her face, but he didn’t care. And when he was done, he took a step back and examined the girl in front of him. She was folded in on herself, holding her arms close to her body as her bottom lip quivered and fat, giant tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked so.. mortified. And actually.. scared of him. Like if Lance were to say anything or move a muscle, she’d flinch.

Seconds later, Lance’s face softened into something regretful and he went out to reach for her, to apologize. But, like he knew she would, she flinched. And then hurried away like he was a mad man. All the while crying and clutching her phone to her chest. Lance felt absolutely demolished inside. He tried to go after her but his feet were glued to the cement of the sidewalk. He didn’t even want his coffee anymore.

Thankfully, there were no viral videos or photos or posts about the incident. Lance ended up tracking the girl down a few days later and showered her with all the love he could muster, even taking as many pics as she wanted and liking them on Instagram when she tagged him. But.. something inside him still felt so horrible about the incident. For a moment, Lance had realized that he genuinely hurt that girl for no real reason. He just wanted some coffee but is coffee more important than the people who are thankful and want to show their gratitude for him for everything he did with voltron? If the roles were reversed and he stayed on earth, he would be bending over backwards to let all the paladins know just how thankful he was to live another day on their planet. That girl probably had family, friends, maybe a spouse and kids, and in the midst of that horrible battle 3 years ago, she most likely thought that one of those days would be her last with them.

It broke Lance’s heart thinking about it. He really hurt her. Sure, he made it right and she forgave him, but in that single moment, he actually hurt someone enough to make them cry, to make them run away from him. It was a terrible feeling. It wasn’t Lance. He never wanted that to happen again.

And at the same time.. he.. kinda never wanted to be the savior of earth. Not really.. he just wanted to feel like he had a place in the universe, and to know that he played an important role. That he mattered.

Guess he really matters now..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered..

The second he walked through the door, his phone rang. It was a three-way call with Hunk and Pidge. Lance pressed the green button to answer and placed the phone to his ear. Immediately, Hunk starts going on and on about how much he misses Lance and when the next time they’ll see each other will be. Lance smiled at his best friend’s inability to ever take a breath between sentences and replied with a warm ‘I miss you too, buddy.’ They got to catching up as Lance ordered his garlic knots and sat down at a private booth near the back of the place. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, especially when he got the call from his best friends.

Hunk tells him all the great things that’s been happening at the Garrison and even on the Atlas. He tells him how his restaurant is doing and how his family is doing and how Shay is doing. Pidge catches him up on things with her family, some new inventions she’s been working on, and how being the youngest teacher at the Garrison is going. Lance listens and gives his two cents on everything his friends tell him and honestly, he couldn’t be more happy for them. The way they were able to just get their lives together 3 years after the war is.. incredible. It made him think about everything he’s done since the war ended. Which wasn’t much.. he took over his family’s farm and brought it back to life, he helps out Colleen, Pidge’s mom, with medicine and finding cures to strange space illnesses with plants she has him grow on his farm, and his family’s market wouldn’t be as popular or swarming with business if he didn’t work there. Sad but true. And that’s really it. He hasn’t done much else. Nothing life changing or breathtaking like his friends.

But Hunk and Pidge don’t need to know that. So he simply replies with: “Oh, ya know.. same old, same old,” and hopes it works enough to keep the conversation flowing and follow up questions at bay. It does.

30 minutes into their conversation and Lance is starting to feel a little.. agitated. With the garlic knots consumed and digesting in his stomach, he sits in the booth, alone, listening to his friends go on and on and on about their perfect jobs and their perfect little lives. He gets lost a few times and at one point has literally no idea what they’re talking about. When he tries to ask what or who or even get the slightest details, Pidge lets out a sigh that Lance can’t help but feel like is out of annoyance. Lance sighs back and continues to stay silent because obviously he’s not getting anywhere. Why even bother putting him on a call that Hunk and Pidge could have just had on their own??

Balling his fist, Lance let out a loud, overdramatic sigh. He didn’t care if his friends heard it or how they took it. He was upset. The conversation between his two friends comes to a halt and then awkward silence. Pidge is the first to speak up with a:

“Something you wanna add, Lance?” The annoyance in her voice is very much there and Lance doesn’t miss it. He scoffs loudly and grits his teeth.

“No.” He says, voice deepening in anger.

“Oh really?” Pidge asks, poking the sleeping bear that lies dormant in lance. “Cause it sure sounds like it to me. Why don’t you stop being such a fucking child and tell us what’s bothering you this time??”

Lance damn near growls.

The line has gone quiet now. Hunk’s unsteady breathing is audible but other than that, silence. Lance digs his nails into the skin of his palms and tries to keep the angry tears in his eyes from falling down his cheeks. With a deep shaky breath, he smiles through the pain.

“You know what, Katie,” Lance spits and it makes Hunk gasp. “Fuck YOU and this stupid, shitty attitude you have all the time!”

“Oh, god..” Hunk winces.

“I don’t know what the actual fuck crawled up your ass,” Lance continues, “but I’m sick of it! I've been sick of it for years! I’m sick of keeping my mouth shut and quite frankly, I’m sick of YOU!”

Lance is standing up out of his seat now. His chest heaves up and down as the angry tears have fallen past his face and down his neck. His voice is two octaves deep from anger and the skin of his palm is bloody from how hard he’s digging his nails into it. The place has gone quiet now and Lance can feel multiple pairs of eyes on him. So much for not drawing any attention to himself.

The line is quiet. Then, the sound of a huff of breath. A small laugh.. And then:

“Wow. Nice one, McClain..” Pidge’s voice is small, but so full of something. “Go screw yourself, you asshole.”

The call ends. Whether Pidge or Hunk ended it, is unclear.

Minutes pass, and Lance is still standing in the same place with the phone to his ear. Tears are running down his face, and his Altean marks are buzzing so loud in his ears. His heart is pounding in his ribcage and ice cold sorrow runs through his veins..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered...

Now, exactly 3 months since that little incident, Lance sits alone in his home. In his childhood bedroom he can’t seem to rearrange because he’s still holding out hope that one day he’ll turn back time and be his child self and get a redo on his life. But hey, it’s better this way. After the whole dilemma with Pidge, Hunk tried to call Lance to help but ended up getting his feelings hurt. Yep. By Lance. Because Lance is a big jerk and can’t stop hurting everyone around him.

So he hasn’t talked to Pidge or Hunk since then. Mostly out of guilt and shame because those two are supposed to be his bestest friends and he hurt them. Nothing he could say or do could make up for his selfish mind and stupid mouth. Lance had this whole plan to go to Shiro about it, to get his advice so Lance could make it all better.

But Pidge being Pidge.. texted the whole thing in their group chat and.. well.. everyone saw it. Shiro, Hunk, Matt, even Keith possibly! It got so bad that Lance’s phone kept going off with alerts from everyone asking what happened and what he said. Curtis tried calling him and left a few messages. Shiro left him a long voicemail. And of course the word traveled so fast that it reached New Altea and Coran got involved. Which caused Romelle to be involved, too. She gossiped to Acxa, who told her girlfriend, who happens to be Lance’s sister, Veronica. Veronica blabbed to Rachel, who blabbed to Marco, who blabbed to Luis.. who blabbed to Lance’s dad.. WHO BLABBED TO LANCE’S MOM. And boy did she have some interesting words for him in the SEVEN, LONG voicemails asking exactly ‘what happened’and ‘why The Holt siblings were so angry with him.’

Everything escalated so fast. Lance can’t even remember what he said. Or why he said it. Since the war ended, it’s been so hard on him. Sure, it’s been hard on everyone, but for Lance it’s been different. Everyone looks up to him for some reason and expects him to do so good and be the hero they all think he is, when in reality? He was just a leg…

Exactly what did he gain from being a paladin of voltron anyway?? Get banged up and bruised almost everyday he was out there? Have people on his case, constantly reminding him how unimportant he was to the team? Pointing out all of his flaws and mistakes and focusing on those when there’s a million other good things he’s done that towers over all the bad shit?? Sure, he returned home to his family who he literally missed and cried for every single day, but he lost the love of his life in the process.

To put it all out there, Lance didn’t really gain anything. He got to travel through space, which was his dream since he was a little kid, and then space chewed him up and spit him out as some fake hero with PTSD and other trauma that will haunt him for the rest of his pathetic life.

So.. these past 3 months.

Lance has been sitting up in his childhood room.

Wishing he could use the power of Altea or something to turn back time.

And be his younger self.

His innocent self.

His happier self.

Back when he wasn’t so fucked up and had dreams and goals.

Back when everyone was proud of him.

Back to when he didn’t know who Allura was or that she even existed. Back to when Voltron didn’t exist either and everything was fucking fine.

Staring up at his ceiling, Lance counts the glow in the dark stars that he’s had up there since he was six years old. Somehow they’re still glowing and Lance is thankful for that because at 3 in the morning when the world is fast asleep and everything is pitch black, he could use the light.

It comforts him. Reminds him of a simpler, more happier time in his life.

Something sharp digs through Lance’s chest as he stares at those fake neon stars, and it hurts really bad. His breathing begins to quicken, matching the beat of his heart, and a lump finds its way up his throat. Tears pool in the rim of his eyes and spill down the corners, streaming down the sides of his face.

And they don’t stop. The stars get blurrier as Lance’s breathing gets heavier. His body begins to tremble with every hiccup of a sob that pours out of him and he’s crying so hard that his brain throbs in his head.

He curls in on himself in his bed and wraps his arms around his torso, crying uncontrollably into his space themed pillow. His Altean marks begin to buzz and glow and he can’t bring himself to care because all he wants to do is disappear.

Disappear from this game called life.

He types a text to Keith with teary eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

Message.. deleted…

As 3 in the morning turns to 4, a pod lands in the grass just a couple yards away from Lance’s farm. Boot covered feet step out of said pod and touch the wet grass waiting for them. It’s still dark out and the only light visible are the fireflies that buzz around a pair of cowboy booted feet. Those booted feet begin to walk, carrying a tall, broad, raven haired stranger up a hill to Lance’s home. The frogs and crickets seem to grow louder as the stranger in black cowboy boots makes their way to the front porch and pulls back the creaky screen door to a cold, locked doorknob. A set of keys are pulled out and a specific blue key is pushed inside the lock, turning and unlocking the door. The stranger walks in and is instantly met.. with..

Crying??

“H-Hello??” The stranger calls out. “Lance?”

The crying stops.

It’s dead quiet..

The door shuts on its own and the echo around the house is eery.

Light footsteps descend the stairs and before they know it, the stranger is being tackled to the ground in a bear hug.

“Ah-! Lance!?” They yell as the duffel bag from their hand falls to the ground.

“Keith!!” Lance yells out, voice rasped from endless crying.

Keith can immediately hear it and wraps his arms around Lance so tight, holding him close. His eyes glow yellow, something that usually happens out of fear, anger, or protectiveness, and his lips protrude to make way for his double set of fangs that are ready to bite any and everyone.

“Lance!” Keith tries to sit up but is pinned to the ground with all of Lance’s dead body weight. “Lance, honey, are you hurt? What’s wrong??”

A hand through curly brown locks and Lance’s crying dies down. He snuggles his face into Keith’s neck and hiccups through a response. Something too incoherent for Keith to make out, but he feels it has something to do with why he was told to go home ASAP.

A few weeks ago, Keith was contacted by Acxa via video chat. They talked and caught up for a few minutes before Acxa told Keith the real reason for her call. She explained that Veronica was having a tough time reaching out to Lance and that he might be in some kind of trouble. Not knowing the full extent of the story, Acxa only told Keith what she heard from Veronica and others. Fearing the worst, Keith packed up his shit and set a course for Earth as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, there were some setbacks on his way over where he had to make a few stops to tend to aliens in need because after all, that’s still his job as a blade member, but when that got finished, Keith hightailed it over. His Galra instincts wouldn't allow him to stay away for much longer anyway and having accepted his galra side a long time ago, it would have been best for everyone to let him go home.

Keith now lays in Lance’s bed, every inch of Lance’s body wrapped up around him like a snake. Keith strokes Lance’s hair soothingly and holds him close to his chest, right over his beating heart. A deep, soothing purr emits itself from Keith’s body and calms Lance’s nerves right down to the bone. Keith knows how much Lance adoreshis Galran features and at this point, Keith would do absolutely anything for Lance to feel better.

They talked about everything that happened and are now in the cuddle stage. Lance has his eyes shut, listening to Keith purr just for him. Long limbs wrapped around every inch of his boyfriend while Keith’s long nails scratch at his scalp, life is so good.

Life is so good with Keith around.

“So,” Keith says, voice as calm as ever. “What exactly did Pidge say?”

“Oh,” Lance answers, his voice quiet as a mouse. “You didn’t see the messages in the group chat?”

“No.” Keith shrugs, laying his cheek against Lance’s forehead. “Been kinda busy.. And I actually don’t understand how a group chat works.”

That rises a chuckle out of Lance as he sits up a bit to reach for his phone on the bedside dresser.

“Idiot,��� he whispers with a small smile on his face and it makes Keith light up, his purring becoming a bit louder.

Lance lays back on Keith’s chest as he scrolls through the messages on his phone. When he finds the message from Pidge, Lance clears his scratchy throat and sniffs.

“From Pidgeotto,” he starts, looking at Pidge’s name in their ✨Paladudes✨ group chat. “Just an FYI lance is a.. a total fucking jackass and I am no longer friends with him..”

Keith immediately frowns at that.

Lance continues. “He can suck my big toe for all I care. I’m done with him. Have fun being a lonely loser @LanceyPants.”

“What the fuck?” Keith says, eyes glowing yellow in the dark room. “Why would she say that!?”

Lance shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes again. “Because she was right. I am a jackass..”

“Lance, no!” Keith sits up, bringing Lance with him. They sit side by side as Lance holds himself and looks down at his space blanket. He shrugs once and sniffs.

“Keith, stop,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “Look, I said some very hurtful things to her and she lashed out in a perfectly normal way..”

“Normal!?” Keith scoffs, grabbing Lance’s phone and rereading the message again. “Jackass? Loser?? Come on, Lance, she’s completely bullying you and you know it!”

Lance whips around with an angry expression on his face “Because I deserve it!”

The room grows quiet. Keith takes a deep breath and reaches over to grab Lance’s shoulders.

“Calm.” He says, taking a deep breath for Lance to mimic. Lance takes a deep breath with him and lets it out. Keith begins to purr again and it calms Lance even more.

“I.. Sorry..”

Keith nods. He reaches up to cup Lance’s cheek and rubs his thumb across Lance’s tear stained eye.

“You know I would never hurt anyone on purpose..” Lance sniffs. “That’s not who I am. I’m just.. I’m tired of being this symbol of everything strong and good and brave.”

“Mhm,” Keith rubs Lance’s back, leaning in closer to him to nuzzle his forehead. Lance nuzzles back and Keith’s purrs.

“I keep.. I keep hurting everyone I care about..” Lance whispers in a voice so low and fragile, it nearly shatters Keith’s heart.

“That’s not true.” Keith pulls back a little to look into Lance’s teary blue eyes. “Lance, you are the most incredible, selfless, honest person I’ve ever known. You are strong and good and brave even if you don’t mean to be. Or want to be.”

Lance pulls away and stares at his hands. Keith keeps his eyes focused on Lance.

“I know you think you hurt that fangirl from a few months ago.” Keith continues. “Or Pidge. Or Hunk. Or your parents or friend or family or whoever, but you could never hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, right,” Lance shakes his head. “I already did. I hurt everyone.”

“And even if that’s true,” Keith grabs Lance’s hands in his own, “which it’s not, you’re not doing it on purpose. You have a right to your own feelings! And you have a right to speak your mind.”

“And what if that hurts people??” Lance looks up and meets teary eyes to indigo ones. “What if I accidentally hurt my mama or my sisters or brothers, or nieces and nephews because I can’t be who they want me to be, who they think I am!?”

“Lance,” Keith shakes his head.

“What if I hurt you???” Lance’s eyes go wide. He looks Keith up and down and exhales a panicked breath. “God, Keith.. wh-what if I hurt you??”

“Oh, Lancey,” Keith sighs that lovey-dovey sigh where his eyes go all big and black like a cat’s, and the purr in his chest gets louder. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever.”

Lance stares into Keith’s eyes like they’re his lifeline.

“B-but.. but what if-?”

“No more what if’s!” Keith cuts Lance off by covering his mouth with his hand. “Listen to me, Lance. Are you listening??”

Lance nods repeatedly.

“Good,” Keith smiles, all crooked and cute and beautiful. “The only person you ever need to worry about hurting is yourself.”

And there it is. The one thing Lance has been dying to hear without knowing he’d been dying to hear it. It’s like a breath of fresh air, or cool rain on a hot and sweaty day. The permission he needed but didn’t really need. He has a right to care about himself and put himself first but whenever he tries, the guilt eats him alive. Why should he care about himself when he has to care more about others???

No. That’s not the case. It’s never been the case.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself,” Keith finishes, stroking the endless sea of tears that are falling from Lance’s eyes. He strokes Lance’s glowing Altean marks and leans forward to kiss one softly. Lance trembles slightly, closing his eyes to bask in the moment.

“I’m sure Pidge has gotten over it by now,” Keith reassures. “She just has too much pride to make the first more and apologize. You know how she is.”

“Y-Yeah,” Lance hiccups, nodding.

“And Hunk?” Keith scoffs. “I bet your mailbox is full of letters from him, explaining how sorry he is and hoping you’re doing alright. You know if he can’t reach you from your phone, he has other ways.”

That makes Lance smile.

“There’s probably cookies on the way right now.” He looks into Keith’s eyes, exhaling a small laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Keith agrees, laughing that angelic laugh and showing off his perfect pearly fangs. Lance’s heart skips a fucking beat.

“And your fangirl?” Keith’s purring stops. “Well, she never should have gotten all up in your space that’s for sure. You had every right to punch her.”

“Keith!” Lance squeaks, face contorting into shock and confusion. “I-I didn’t punch her!”

“Really?” Confusion etches itself all over Keith’s features and he puts a finger to his chin. “I could have sworn I read that in your text.”

“No way, man!” Lance defends, waving his arms around. “Why would I ever in my life-!” He stops mid sentence to see the shit-eating grin plastered on Keith’s face.

“Just kiddin, lil lady,” Keith says in his best southern accent, smiling big and wide.

Lance bursts out into a fit of laughter, hitting Keith’s chest and arms and back. Keith shields himself and laughs, grabbing Lance’s arms and bringing him down onto the mattress. They fall back with Keith looming over Lance, his long raven hair surrounding their faces.

Lance stares up into those beautiful, indigo eyes and sniffs, unable to look away. He reaches up and cups Keith’s face, rubbing his thumb over Keith’s Galran stripe.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Keith asks in his softest voice, eyes roaming from Lance’s teary blue eyes to his luscious lips.

“Yes,” Lance nods, not even bothering to blink because if he does, he’ll miss Keith’s everything.

“Don’t let anyone get you down, my sweetheart.” Keith whispers, leaning in closer. “Ever.”

Lance nods.

“And if they do,” Keith’s face turns serious, indigo eyes going dark. “I’ll bite their throats out and hand them to you on a silver platter.”

“Keith,” Lance exhales, going red in the face and ears. “Holy shit, you can’t just say things l-like that.”

Keith’s hard demeanor falls as he giggles and leans in close. Before they close the gap between their lips, Lance whispers, “And hey. I thought pet names were my thing?”

And Keith kisses him to shut him up.

They kiss like they haven’t seen each other in years and it’s the greatest Lance has ever felt. Keith kisses like he’s starving for it, craving it so much more than air and it’s hot and powerful and so, so damn good.

Lance wraps his arms and legs around Keith’s body and kisses him back with fervor. He allows Keith to make him feel better, and kisses his pain away. Keith pulls away slowly, licking into Lance’s mouth before he does so. Lance lets out a small groan and smiles before he opens his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, tucking some hair behind Keith’s ear.

“I love you, more,” Keith whispers back, settling himself between Lance’s legs. “Feeling any better?”

“A little,” Lance looks away, sniffling a little. His eyes focus back to Keith’s and a small smile appears on his kiss swollen lips. “But I know a great way you can make me feel all the way better.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith smirks, burying his face into Lance neck to start kissing slowly. “And what’s that?”

Lance giggles like a little kid, running his hands up and down Keith’s sides. When Keith pulls back, he trails his kisses up the side of Lance’s face and stops at his Altean mark.

“Make love to me,” Lance whispers, rubbing his nose against Keith’s. “Touch me all over and hold me until the sun comes up and just.. love me. Please..”

Keith’s face softens into something full of love and adoration. He moves forward to peck Lance’s lips, then his chin, and then his other Altean mark.

“Anything you want, my sweet..” he kisses Lance’s cheek. “Beautiful..” he kisses Lance’s jaw. “Amazing.. wonderful..”

“Alright, enough!” Lance laughs, slapping Keith in the back. His cheeks are on fire as he closes his eyes when Keith starts nibbling on his neck with his fangs. A chill runs down Lance’s spine and tingles to his toes, making them curl.

Keith sits up one last time and stares at Lance like he’s the world.

“I’ll take good care of you, baby.” He says with the utmost truth in his sultry voice. “I promise. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah,” Lance nods, letting his tears fall down his face and glowing Altean marks. “Together.”

And as Keith kisses Lance so lovingly, Lance can’t help but be glad that he can’t turn back time to be his younger self. Because with Keith around, he feels all the happiness in the whole world just like he did when he was young.

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt)

[haechanokeh]

I’m Right For You [pt. 4]

[teaser/ prologue] [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ]

(you can play Die For You by The Weeknd while reading this 😌)

pairing: popular college! mark x average! reader

genre: romance, smut, angst, series.

word count: 2.8K

warning (chapter): handjob, oral sex (male receiving), penetration, cream pie

warning: corruption, oral sex (both receiving and giving), cream pie, rough sex, mention of religion, rough sex, self-esteem, psychology, public sex, sub! reader, sex toys. possessive mark two-faced mark

I think I’m right for you, babe. You know what I’m thinking, see it in your eyes. You hate that you want me, hate it when you cry. It ain’t workin’ ‘cause you’re perfect and I know that you’re worth it I can’t walk away. (Die for you by The Weeknd)

you chose the latter, that's why you're sitting in his lap. you were straddling mark, your knees are both on each side of mark in the single couch where he was slouching comfortably. 

your mouth molding to each other producing loud smacking sound and moans. you both didn't hold back as if you owned the world. mark didn't know that you're mom was away but he never thought of her once, his head filled with you, only you.  you, on the other hand holding his jaws up as your shove your face down. his hands that were staying on your hips moved to your back, squeezing your ass that made you gasp. he slipped his tongue in your mouth, caressing your soft lips. he conquered your mouth like he owned it. jaws were clenching, lip locking. nasally heavy breathing, faint moans, and dirty smacking- all this noise filled your quiet house. 

mark noticed you were having a hard time breathing but you never stopped kissing him, you're like a hungry mad woman for him. not that he didn't like that, but you're literally about to lose your breath. he unlocked his lips from you, he was staring at your flushed face. 

"will you be mad if i tell you i've been wanting your mouth around my dick?" he sensually looked into your lips and his thumb tracing it. "i've always imagined how does it look like with my dick in it." 

his eyes darken. mark was now in his slightly dominant version. it sent you shivers at the same time your aching womanhood became responsive. 

"hmm, y/n?" he hummed to call your attention, wanting an answer from you. you nodded as a reply. "thank you." mark doesn't know if it's appropriate to say that in this mood but he said it because he was nervous that you will reject it.

you only saw his dick once but it didn't leave your head. you felt scared but you badly want him and you couldn't deny it. you voluntarily get off from his lap and kneel between his legs that are manly spread. your eyes focused on his bulging crotch as your hand reached for the garter of his gray sweatpants along with his calvin klein boxer shorts. pull it down. mark lifted his hips to help you fully remove his pants. you swallowed hard staring at the familiar veiny thing that mark has. it's not fully hard yet you can tell not until you look back and eyes met, mark get more aroused when he saw your doll-like eyes, nothing but innocence and excitement. mark watches you do all this things. 

mark leaned forward and traced your lower lip, he showed his middle and index finger. 

"lick it." he said with a commanding voice. you obliged, tongue out and lick the tips of his fingers, the side of it. you never left your eyes on him to check if he's doing it right. his lips were in thin line but it seemed like he's suppressing something. 

"suck it, y/n." he told you with authority. you started suck the tips. he smiled and pull away his fingers. "good girl, but don't use your teeth when you suck me, okay baby?" 

your heart jumped when he called you two names in a single sentence. 

he pumped his dick, scooted a little forward so that it wouldn't be a burden to you. he put hand hand behind your head and pull it slowly towards his crotch.

"you can start, y/n." he said with a smile, it was warm and reassuring. he switches expressions and emotions too quickly.

that's so inappropriate mark, it's not sexy but it made my heart skips a beat. 

you wrapped your hand around his dick, pumping it. mark let out a shaky sigh, so you check his face. he's so heavenly, parted lips eyes on your hand stroking his dick. you stick out your tongue and lick the tip. you gazed at each others eyes while you give his dick kitten licks and twirling your tongue around its head while stroking him. he was now biting his lip as he watches your tongue flatly on the base of it stroke it up all the way to the tip. he watches his dick slowly disappearing in your mouth. you can only achieve half of his dick so far while your palm around his dick where your mouth couldn’t rich and slowly bobbing your head.

“fuck.” mark hissed. you were looking up through your lashes from time to time to check he’s enjoying it. he did, this what he always imagined and nothing compares to this reality. he caressed your cheek that are sunken in, and gently tapped it. “faster baby.” 

you bobbed your head up and down in his dick, trying to go deeper but you were gagging so mark told you not yet, so you settled to sucking half of it while your hand occupied what you couldn’t. you stare at him through your lashes asking if you’re doing it right. your thighs are rubbing each other in arousal.

“yes, you’re doing good.” he moaned. he grabbed the sides of your head and help you to fasten the pace and go deeper. you gagged but his dick finally is in your throat. you didn’t realize that you’re hands already inside your sweatpants rubbing your clit through your underwear. you moaned which heighten his urgency to cum. you taste something weird, you assumed it’s his pre-cum.

“i’m close fu-” he pushed your head down more and your nose hit his pelvis, dick deeper than ever, hitting the back of your throat, mouth widely opened and suppressing your gag. “shit.” he pulled you out, you gasped and coughed a little. mark find it sexy when there’s a string of saliva that connects your mouth to his dick. he’s pumping his dick, one hand on the top of your head. 

“Tongue.” he hissed. you showed your tongue, gazing up in his face and down to his dick. mark produced a string of curses as he reached his high, it splured white thick liquid on your tongue and to your cheek. he tapped the tip against your tongue. you spit it on his dick and swallowed his dick  which made him off guard, shaking your head a little to deep throat him for the last time and threw your head back detaching your mouth from his cock. 

you were gasping heavily and eyes locked to each other. he admired your fucked up face, only for him.

“that was… hot.” he breathed out. you smiled widely, your teeth are showing, probably because of pride and without your knowledge you brought mark to cloud 9. mark swallowed.

yeah, this is much better than what i imagined. 

he leaned down, cupping your jaws and captured your lips. he could taste his essence but wasn’t bothered about it. your tongue dancing together and sometimes you were catching each other smiling through the kiss that’s why both of you are giggling but never stopped kissing. it was passionate and the word love potentially fits the description of the emotions you were sharing.

well, you flinched in surprise when you heard a doorbell. 

“wait, your mom?” mark started to get panicked, but that’s impossible, so you shook your head. were you expecting someone-

“the pizza!” you quickly get up but mark grabbed your wrist causing you to bend forward.

he wiped your face full of his cum and your lips that were wet because of the wet kiss with mixture of his liquid. he won't allow other men to see you like this, you weren't aware but your erotic face is stunning.

"okay, clean." he pat your back. you giggled and ran towards the door.

afraid of making things awkward between you two, mark stopped himself from asking you what you feel about him. he knew that things went all south every time he confess or address romantic relationship between you two so he shut his mouth.

you were studying with mark. mark is a great teacher, you only understand the lessons because of him and he gave you tips to memorize things, and mark is a "study smart" type of guy, he only focuses on what he thinks that will appear in the test.

however after several hours, you're crying. you completely forgotten that you also have long test for jurisprudence and ethics which a word by word exam and it's completely impossible for you to memorize a total of 49 sections.

mark felt bad but at the same time laughing because you were crying. everything about you is cute, beautiful, or sexy for mark, he's completely blind for love.

"the hell are you laughing at? why are you filming me?! you whined and tried to snatch his phone but he was quick.

both of you were sitting on the floor because the table is too small. you weren't completely away from each other too.

"don't cry over acads, that's stressful." he said laughing while his camera still filming you.

"give me that!" you sobbed, you crawled. you successfully snatched his phone from his hand however, a cliché scene happened.

you landed on top of him, chest against his chest, and faces are inches away to each other. mark? he didn't hesitate, he was hungry for you. lip locking and moaning like crazy what happened earlier seemed like happening again right now. but this time, you're much bolder.

"bed." you said in between the kiss. mark groaned and slapped your ass signaling you to stand up. you did but both of you didn't try to remove each other's lip.

your hands were flatly on his chest, pushing him towards your room. the back of his knees met your bed causing him to fall back on it. both of you bounced because of how soft your mattress is. he shifted your position that's why you're under him, crawled forward and you crawled back using your elbow until your head hit the headboard of your bed.

he nipped your neck while your hand rubbing his bulge. you dipped your hand in his boxers and trap his flesh, stroking it.

"shit." he cursed in pleasure. he pulled out your hand, at first it confused you but you just trust him.

he removed every single fabric you have, and mark breathed out in the sight your offered him. full round breast and beautiful curves. he watches your chest to go up and down as you breathe. again, you are just trusting everything to him so you just waited and ready to commit whatever he wanted to do to you.

mark grabbed both of the ankle of your legs and pulled it to closer to your body, knees bending, and thighs open. mark staring at it.

"everything about you is beautiful." mark gaze at your eyes. you can only see nothing but sincerity which made your blood rush to your face.

"i don't know." you don't usually get complimented... not until mark praising your beauty since the day he confessed and you really don't know how to receive compliments.

"then you should." he said before kneeling and diving in to your wetness.

"oh my..." you moaned when you felt his nose in your bud and his tongue licked your slit. he inserted his tongue inside you and just do its magic accompanied by his two fingers pumping your juices.

your head became empty, all you did was scream his name and moan loudly. but when he begun sucking your, your back arch which pushed down by mark. your hard gripping mark's head and pushing it more towards you.

your face distorted in so much pleasure and just exploded without any warning. mark licking and spitting it to your pussy.

you were catching your breath, still high in your orgasm. mark sat up, your essence dripping down on his chin.

"i need you so bad mark." but you want more, you want the real thing. you pyt your feet on his bulge and stroke it. he was surprised, and later realize what you mean. mark gave you an apologetic look.

"i really loved too but we don't have protection." mark said.

"i'm on pill." you said and yes you are taking contraceptive. you saw mark's inner brows twitch.

"why?" he said sounded suspicious of you. maybe he thought you were sexually active.

"hormonal imbalance." you simply replied. he's a pharmacy student, he already knew what it meant. you saw mark face relieved.

"no skip?" he said. mark making sure that he will not destroy your life, unlike him if ever you get pregnant it's going to be hard for you to study. yeah, mark really cared for you.

"no skip." you gave him a reassuring smile.

"good." he smiled back. mark spread your essence in his cock, pumping it.

he laid down but use his right arm beside your head supported his weight to avoid crashing you.

"are you ready?" his whispered softly in your ears. you faced him and nodded. he pecked your nose. you were slightly nervous but ready to give in.

and you ask yourself, why do you act like lovers? but your brushed it off because it might ruined the mood.

he aligned his member and slowly enter the tip and ut already feels different from his fingers. mark continue to enter you slowly but when you felt that your tissue was about to break, which is very painful your hand landed on his cheek, harshly.

he was startled, lashes blinking and he stopped.

"oh my gosh, i'm so sorry! i was just surprised by the pain." you were embarrassed and felt sorry. it's just afternoon so the room is bright and you could see it left a print on his cheek.

"it's okay, it didn't hurt." he smiled, lying. shit that stings. "put your hands in my arm or shoulder." mark said because he noticed you don't know where to put your hands because you were slightly nervous. you did what he said, hands on his shoulder.

then he dig it deeper and ripped you. you moaned painfully and nails digging mark. it really hurts for virgin, imagine a tissue being ripped? mark didn't move, his manhood isn't fully inside you. he whispered lovely things into your ears, praising you and giving your face feathery kiss.

when you feel like you can handle it already, you asked him to move.

"mark, you can move." you shakily said.

"i love you." he said. he always said this everyday, like almost didn't miss. he captured your lips and shared a passionate and sloppy kiss while slowly digging deeper inside you.

and he started to thrust his hips slowly but deeply inside you. it was painfully good and you want more.

"faster mark." you moaned almost begging.

mark started to fuck you fast. you became a moaning mess, your back wanted to arch so bad but his body on top of you not allowing it which added to your pleasure. you felt restraint under him and it made you go crazy.

"mark, right there, right there!" you were screaming, wishing that your neighbour will not hear you.

"fuck." mark cursed between his gritting teeth. his face was above you and you could clearly see that his eyes switched again into something dark. he grabbed your left ankle and lifted it. he quickly changed position, he was on his knees.

mark became harsh and his dick became accurate hitting your spot. you were screaming and crying because of the pain and pleasure. hands gripping the bed sheets and hips lifting as you feel euphoric. your lungs felt like deprived in oxygen.

"i'm cumming." you cried out.

"me too, y/n. you feel so good, you're great." he said you know he's about to cum too because his thrusts became sloppy.

you reached your high first, long moan, and your eyes were crossing. he leaned down, burying his face on your neck and groaned there. he painted your walls, you can feel how full you were down there.

both of you were gasping for air but mark was crashing your small body.

"mark i can't breathe." you tapped his shoulder. mark cursed in panic and quickly lift his body and laid next to you.

"y/n, i love you." he said it twice today, shamelessly.

you're looking at each other, breathing in sync but your lids became heavy and you lost your energy to respond to him. mark chuckled and kissed your nose.

"take a rest."

but the moment you woke up he wasn't there already. but you felt something in your forehead, you grabbed it. it was a sticky note. you laughed still half awake.

i tried to wake you up but you kicked my balls. don't worry, the test is an essay type, i already left notes in your laptop. sorry for using it w/o your permission. ps, i transferred some of your photos to my cellphone. i love you y/n - mark lee

✨if you want to be added in I’m Right For You Tag List, you can DM or Ask me so i can add you ✨

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Tag List: @jjikyuu @sunshinedhyuck @erisxczenie​ @wassup-haeyadwae​

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thank you for reading my story btw 🥺

[bestiesenpai]

Possession - Choso ft. Geto

Choso-nii is sweet in his own ways, we have to admit lol this is a non-curse uhmmmm I know Choso is literally like 150yrs old but just so we ALL KNOW: reader is 18+, and femme reader

Content warningssss: infantilization + dumbification, incest, slimy best friend Geto, dubcon, praise, dacryphilia, light choking, degradation, manipulation/gaslighting(i’m not sure which is the proper term for this situation so im just putting both)

Choso was lucky, being the oldest of all the siblings. He had the most life experience, the most time out of all of you to try things out and get shit right. Growing up, he tried to be there for you but he was often much too busy to dedicate the time and effort needed to properly foster a relationship.

Irregardless of that, you still looked up to him and sought him out whenever you could. Hanging out with him in little increments, somehow squeezing in alone time with just the two of you. It was no easy task with as many brothers as you had, but you managed to steal away a precious few seconds with him when you could.

Which is why when Choso moved out, you were utterly devastated. It felt like just yesterday he was helping you pick groceries for a big family hot pot and then the next he was packing boxes and moving into a trendy studio downtown to pursue an art and fashion career.

When he left with the final box you blubbered like a baby, not wanting to be comforted by him because it would only make you miss him more. It hurt him too to see you like that and to know that he could have prevented it if he just simply stayed, but he wasn’t about to hold himself back just to keep the bandaid on a little longer.

As the months ticked by, it agonized you to be left without him. Sure you had your other brothers and you loved them just as much, but it wasn’t the same without him. You texted and called Choso and made sure he kept up with the sibling group chat, but there wasn’t much you could do otherwise.

Until one fateful day, the power went out at the house over the weekend. The maintenance man had told your parents it wouldn’t be on until Monday morning and you were far too quick to snatch up the chance to be the one person that got to go to Choso’s.

“Choso-nii!” You were absolutely buzzing as you threw open the door with the spare key he had left at the house. Finally, finally, you got to see where he lived and spend more time with him. You hadn’t gotten the chance to go to his place yet despite how long it’d been since he moved out; he always said he was too busy working on a project or that he was out too late to entertain you.

Your shoulders dropped dramatically when you realized he wasn’t home. Dragging your small suitcase through the door, you let the disappointment hang on your face at being all alone. Taking your shoes off, you stepped onto the frigid hardwood and took a look around.

His place was modest, he wasn’t a starving artist but he couldn’t afford the large lofts you saw online. Immediately to your left was his small kitchen with only one full sized counter to speak of, to your left was a bathroom covered in slate gray tiles and no bathtub, and in front of you was his living room.

“He decorated pretty well.” Mumbling to yourself, you look around the room. There’s a tiny desk facing the wall shoved into the corner with his computer on top, a decently sized couch next to it and a coffee table with coffee ring stains on it. There’s an area rug your mother got him and hanging on the walls is multiple pieces of art he’d acquired. He’d shown you some when you last video called and all of them were beautiful.

Walking past the mounted TV and gaming consoles he kept was a space divided from the living room with a slatted wood wall. Right behind the wall was his bed, messily covered in blood red blankets, pillows and crumpled sheets. It was probably the biggest piece of furniture in the apartment, and the rest of the room was covered in posters and housed his clothes on open hangers.

Making yourself comfortable, you waited eagerly on the couch for him to come home. You’d already whined through text at him, berating him for not being here to greet you. With the promise of a large takeout meal when he got home, you could only sit and twiddle your thumbs.

“Choso-nii!” Leaping from the couch as the door opened, you were ready to pounce on your brother and smother him in a hug.

“Hey.” He replied gruffly and you stopped short at the looming shadow still behind him. Your smile fell when a man walked in behind him, long inky black hair tied up into a loose bun and a wide stature that made you nervous.

“Hi.” The way his low voice stretched into a higher pitch as he wiggled his long fingers at you, the sleeve of his hoodie dipping down to reveal scrawling black tattoos against his skin, had a shiver going through you.

“H-hi.” Your voice was tiny compared to his and it made him chuckle. Your eyes weren’t even on Choso anymore, glued to the man who was now smiling at you with his eyes half closed.

“How was the trip here?” Choso is suddenly right in front of you, cutting off your line of sight and pulling you into a hug you quickly reciprocate to ease your mind. Your fingers dig into the soft material of his jacket and you can smell a faint trace of nicotine on him.

“It was fine, mom drove me to the station.”

“Good, good.” All too soon he pulled away, rubbing your head affectionately before turning to the guest he’d brought. “This is my friend Geto, we do business together in the fashion district.”

“Ah, this must be the little sister you told me about!” Geto’s brows rose and he let out a pleased hum. “Hi little sister, I’m Geto Suguru.” The way he called you little sister made your face burn, it was like he was mocking you.

“Tell him your name.” Choso grunted and nudged your shoulders.

“I’m (Y/N)...” Licking your lips nervously, your eyes dropped to a spot on the floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).” Sliding closer Geto pat your shoulder lightly. “You can call me Geto-nii.” Your eyes widen and snap up to look at him, clearly surprised a stranger would be so casual already. “I want us to get closer, afterall we’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other. I’m one of your brother's best friends.”

“Uhm, o-okay.” Nodding quickly, you meet his dark eyes for a moment before looking at the piercings on his ears. “It’s nice to meet you too, Geto-nii.”

“Hey, what do you want for delivery?” Choso huffs from the couch. He’s surprisingly hands off with your interaction, not even looking at the way Geto sizes you up or how his fingers are close to closing in on your wrist.

“What is there?” Rushing to the couch, you practically fall right into Choso’s lap and nuzzle into his shoulder to look at his phone. Geto stands right where you left him for a moment, taking in the sight of you cuddling up to your brother so closely, before he slinks away into the bathroom.

“Wow, that came so quickly!” Twenty minutes later you’re seated on the floor, pressed against the coffee table as you marvel at how fast the delivery came. “At home it takes at least forty-five minutes!”

“That’s what you get for living in the sticks.” Choso teases, a small uptick to his mouth as he brings the food to the table.

“Shut up!” Puffing out your cheeks, you look up at the game Geto is playing. It’s some online multiplayer shooting game you hadn’t bothered to catch the title of, but the flashing lights and the way Geto got so worked up had you intrigued.

“Fuck yeah, foods here.” Taking a quick glance down, Geto abandoned the game quickly. Tossing the controller onto the couch, he walked to the fridge and dug around. “Choso, beer?”

“Yeah.” He called back, digging out the contents of the bag and spreading it out across the table.

“Did you get me a-” Right as you were about to ask, Choso placed a cold can of soda in front of you.

“Yup.”

“Aw (Y/N), you don’t drink beer?” Geto whined, plopping down across from you with a pout. Handing a tall can to Choso, he cracked open his own and frowned slightly when you shook your head no. “Have you ever tried it?”

You could feel your brother's eyes looking right at you, curious to know the answer too. The truth was, you had experimented with both liquor and weed but you never told Choso. He always warned you not to get into any of that stuff.

“No.” Your cheeks burned as you lied and Choso’s eyes narrowed; he could tell you were lying and the curt sigh that left his lips was evidence enough.

“Really, never? Take a sip then.” Sitting up a little straighter, Choso opened his can and held it out to you.

“No thanks.” Trying to push the can away, you avoided both Choso’s narrowed gaze and Geto’s smirk.

“No go ahead, I insist.” He held the can out staunchly. “Your first time should be with me anyway.” That made your face even hotter and you hung your head, a whine threatening to bubble out of your throat.

“I don’t like it.”

“Hm, how do you know you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?” Geto added, knowingly stirring the pot and hiding his wide smirk behind his beer can.

“I just do!” With a huff your head shot up and you looked at both of them.

“Try it.” Choso said firmly, his eyes now wide and unblinking at you. The whine you’d tried to hold back came out and your shoulders bounced up and down as you spoke.

“I don’t want to, I’ve already tried that kind and I don’t like it!” There, now it was out in the open for everyone to know. Your head dropped again but you could see the way Geto bit his lip hard to stop himself from giggling.

“I thought I told you not to get mixed up with that stuff.” Sighing softly, Choso took a long sip from his beer can and the silence that hung between you was heavy, at least on your end. Your shoulders sagged and you picked up your plate.

“Sorry.” Your voice was so pitiful it made Geto coo.

“What’s done is done.” Choso shrugged and began to dish himself up. “Next time you wanna do that stuff though, come to me.”

“Yeah, your big brothers will make sure you have a great time.” Lightly tapping the table, Geto grinned widely. Digging his phone out of his pocket, he turned on some music. “Now let's eat, I’m starving!”

The air between you and Choso was stilted. He wasn’t angry or disappointed with you, he’d made sure to tell you when he caught you pouting over your food. He just wished you’d come to him first, but you couldn’t help but see past it. Choso was hurt he wasn’t your first choice, and even though he didn’t vocalize it his actions showed it.

“Hey (Y/N), come and play with me.” After dinner Geto had flopped back down onto the couch, his stomach bloated with a food baby.

“Uhm, okay.” Taking a quick glance at Choso who was sitting down at his computer, you nodded. Taking a seat a good few inches away from Geto you picked up the other controller.

“Why’re you so far away, I won’t bite!” He laughed, quickly discarding the thick hoodie he’d been wearing. Your eyes were drawn to the heavy black and grey traditional Japanese tattoos going up and down both of his arms, stopped only by the t-shirt he had on.

“Your tattoos are really cool.” Unable to take your eyes away, you slid closer to him on the couch, body dipping on the cushions as you leaned close to examine them.

“You like them? I have more, lemme show you.” Off came Geto’s shirt and you gasped loudly. He had a whole bodysuit going on, large pops of color on his chest and shoulders going down his sides and disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.

“Woah, these are so cool!” You couldn’t hide how impressed you were. Your hands ghosted over his skin, drinking in the intricate designs etched permanently into his body along with the rippled muscles underneath his skin.

“Does my little sister have any tattoos?” Geto asked, letting his hair out of its bun and letting the strands fall around his shoulders.

“No.” Choso answers for you, not taking his eyes away from his computer.

“Yeah, I don’t have any yet.”

“That’s a shame, I think you’d look really pretty with some ink.” Running a hand through his hair so he could flex his arm, Geto flicked his chin towards Choso. “I’ve been trying to get this guy to come to my shop to get some work done too.”

“Choso-nii, you should get a tattoo!” After seeing Geto’s you were hooked.

“Hm.” He grunted, casting you a sideways glance over his shoulder. “What should I get?”

“Get something like this!” You gestured towards Geto and Choso finally turned around away from his computer to look fully at you.

“You really think I’d look good with all that?”

“Yes!”

“Ah you heard her, Choso! I’ll book you a consultation with my artist, he’s a great guy.”

“Alright…” Choso’s eyes lingered on Geto for a little while longer before he turned back to his computer. “Sign me up then.” Letting out a victorious little sound, Geto tugged his shirt back on and picked up his controller again.

“Alright, let’s play now.”

It was safe to say that the kinds of games Geto and your brother played were much harder than the ones you played at home. There were far too many character controls to memorize and the speed at which you had to press the buttons was too fast and it hurt your fingers after a while.

“Geto-nii, I don’t like this!” You groaned, slumping against him and the couch cushions as you lost another round of the online game.

“Poor baby, is it too difficult for you?” Geto pouted at you and pat your thigh. Choso had slipped a pair of headphones on, oblivious to the way Geto was speaking to you.

“It is.”

“Here, we’ll go do a practice round and I’ll teach you how to play.” Flicking through the options, Geto found what he was looking for. “Your little brain just needs to take things slow.”

“S’not little.” Pushing his shoulder with a huff, your cheeks burned as he laughed. “Your games are just stupid.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” Drawing out the y, Geto loaded up a practice game and hooked his arm around your shoulders, putting his hands over yours on the controller. “Now just try to remember how I do it.”

His arms tightened around you, pushing your chest nearly flush with his as Geto pushed and pulled your fingers insanely fast, pulling off stilted combo moves with your hands. You could barely keep up with what was happening on screen let alone the buttons he was pushing.

“You think you got it?” His mouth was now right against your ear, his voice a low and rumbling whisper. A tiny, strangled noise comes from the back of your throat and Geto can feel you tense up slightly. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you all night if I have to.”

Chuckling darkly, his lips ghost along the ridge of your ear before starting up another game. Your face is on fire and Geto knows, he can feel the heat radiating off your body much stronger than it was before. The subtle shift of your thighs and the way they squeeze together isn’t lost on him, and it only makes him draw you deeper into his lap until you’re sitting pretty on his stretched out legs, head nestled gently on his shoulder while you try in vain to keep up with him.

“Alright I sent the final sketch to Gojo and-” Choso tosses his headphones off and turns around, body stretching and extending up and out, bones cracking and popping loudly in his ears. He stops speaking, gravelly voice suddenly caught in his throat when he sees the two of you together.

It’s been so long since he’s been cuddled up to you like that that the sight of you in his best friend's lap like that makes his mind go blank. Cuddled up with another man, you’re not even playing the game anymore, having given up a long time ago just to simply watch and lightly nap while you wait for your brother to give you attention again.

“Hm? Oh, that’s great.” Geto replies, giving a quick glance to Choso and then to the clock on the wall. “Fuck it’s already 2am? I missed the last train.”

“You know it’s not a big deal for you to crash here.” Choso shrugs and begins to turn off some of the lights that are beginning to burn his eyes. He can’t stand to look at you any longer or the creeping jealousy in his chest will bubble to the surface.

“Choso-nii…” With a big sleepy inhale you arch your back off Geto, pushing your weight into your hips as you stretch and rub your eyes.

“I shoulda had you get ready for bed earlier, you must be beat.”

“Mhmm.” Nodding sleepily, you stand up with help from Geto, his hands placed low on your hips and fingers splayed out on your body. “I’ll be quick.” Shuffling to your suitcase, you take out your sleeping clothes and bathroom essentials before blindly walking to his bathroom.

You can hear a low murmur in the living room as Choso and Geto also get ready for bed. There’s a few chuckles, and you hear Choso snap at Geto for something, and they’re definitely saying your name at parts, but by the time you come out the conversation is done and over with.

“Come sleep with me, little sister!” Geto calls from the couch where he’s set up a makeshift bed and taken all his clothes off except his underwear. There’s a blanket not yet put over his body right next to him, and your eyes are staring right at the tattoos that dip under his waistband and finish on his ankles.

“C’mere.” Choso huffs, snatching your wrist and pulling you into the bedroom. Your eyes follow Geto as you walk and you can feel the way he stares right at your bare thighs in your sleeping shorts.

Pushing you onto the bed, Choso climbs in after, flicking off the last light left on and engulfing everyone in a shroud of darkness and city light peeking through the curtains. Frustrated, Choso tosses and turns in the bed and throws the blanket around both of you.

“Goodnight.” You say loud enough for Geto to hear.

“Good night little sister.” He calls back.

“Yeah, night.” Choso grunts and finally slaps his head against the pillows before stilling completely. Slowly, you slide your body closer and closer to him, the touch of your fingers to his bare chest making you shiver.

“I love you, Choso-nii.” You whisper in his ear, wrapping your arms around him and curling a leg right against his sweatpants.

“Love you too.” It takes him a few seconds too long to reply but when he does it makes a delighted grin spread across your face. Hooking an arm around your back he pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head and squeezing you tightly before loosening up. “Now go to sleep.”

Sleep comes easily to you, after all you’re in the arms of your brother that you love so much. You used to sleep with him when he still lived at home, crawling in at night after you’d been forced to watch a scary movie and cuddling into him. He could never say no to you even if he was exhausted and just wanted to pass out, he always made time to cuddle you.

Choso was having a much harder time going to sleep. He remembers what it was like sleeping in the same bed at home and he doesn’t remember it being this much of a problem. Sure, he woke up with a half hard cock some mornings that he was able to force away before you woke up, but somehow this felt different.

You were at his house not at the family home. There were no other brothers to barge in and demand breakfast, no parents to poke and prod at him to get up and go to work - this was his space, somewhere he had complete control over and could do whatever he wanted and that included fantasizing about rubbing your ass while you slept and touching himself.

Eventually forcing himself to sleep, Choso was thankful when he woke up to the sound of his alarm and no hard cock. Blindly turning it off, he stretched as much as he could with your body laying on half of him. Slowly inching out of your hold he was greeted with the slimy, sticky feeling of cum soaking the insides of his thighs and smeared along his sweats creating a big wet patch on the front.

“Someone had a nice dream.” Geto said quietly into the early morning darkness. He could just barely make out Choso’s cum stained pants as he walked past the couch and into the bathroom.

“Shut the fuck up.” Choso bit back, ears burning red. Geto fell back onto the couch with a soft laugh under his breath.

When you woke up it was well after Choso had left. The digital clock he used flashed bright red numbers at your bleary eyes, telling you it was now ten in the morning. The bed was cold on the side Choso slept on but you rolled over anyway and breathed in the scent of his pillow.

“Oh my god.” When you got up and out of the bed you weren’t expecting to see Geto still in the apartment on the couch in his underwear wrapped up loosely in a blanket.

“Good morning, sleepy girl.” He hummed over a cup of black coffee, his long hair still tussled from sleep.

“Where’s Choso-nii?” You fidgeted with your fingers, looking anxiously around the room for a hint that he was still here.

“He had to go in early for a project, it’s just you and me.”

“O-oh.” A sickening grin spread across Getos face the longer you fidgeted. “Uhm, I’m gonna use the bathroom!” Rushing past him, you tugged your sleeping shirt down, attempting to hide the goosebumps rising on your thighs.

“I’ll make breakfast!” He called out, helping himself to Choso’s kitchen. You took as long as you could in the bathroom, waiting until he was done cooking to come out. “Hope you like eggs, little girl, because that’s all I know how to make.”

Taking the plate from him, you let Geto place his hand on your lower back and guide you to the couch. The TV was turned on low to some random morning news talking about the weather, and Geto’s hand stayed on your thigh the entire time you ate.

“Thank you for the food.” You said quickly, standing just as fast and going to the kitchen sink. Cleaning up the few dishes left out, you gasped and nearly jumped out of your skin feeling Geto press against your back.

His hands come to rest against the countertop, trapping you between it and him. His broad chest pushed against your back making you bend to accommodate the added weight, pushing your ass into his growing cock.

“G-geto-nii?” Another gasp came from you as his lips pressed against your ear, skimming around it and the sound of his breathing ringing in your head. Planting a soft kiss behind your ear, one of his hands came up to grab your jaw.

“You really are such a cute little sister, you know that?” Bringing your head back and up, Geto kisses your cheek a few times. His fingers splay downwards, grabbing onto a bit of your throat as he kissed the corner of your lips.

Squeezing your eyes shut, a little whimper comes from the back of your throat when he kisses your lips and forces your mouth open with his fingers. Getos tongue slides in effortlessly, like you’d invited him in and told himself to make your mouth his new home. Gliding his tongue over your teeth, his coffee flavored saliva started to drip down the corner of your mouth.

Beating a fist against the counter as you start to get too lightheaded, you’re gasping for air when he lets you fall back, crumpling to the countertop with ragged breathing. Smoothing a hand down your back, Geto goes down past the hem of your sleeping shorts and pushes his hand up under them.

“Geto-nii!” Curling your fingers into the granite, a loud squeal erupts from your chest and you force your body upright.

“Such a perfect fucking ass.” Geto groans, groping your flesh hard. “And no panties? Who knew you were so naughty while you slept.”

“M’not- not naughty!” You pout, turning over your shoulder and shaking your head at him.

“Such a naughty little sister I have.” Taking his hand out of your shorts, Geto lets you turn around and face him. Briefly biting his lip, Geto grabs you by the jaw again and kisses you, this time fully slotting his mouth against yours.

Immediately your hands fly back to catch yourself, the force of his kiss enough to almost make you fall over completely. The hand not holding your jaw snakes under your shirt and goes straight to your breast, giving it a rough squeeze that has your hands going to grip his upper arms.

“Sensitive, are we?” He pulls back slightly, licking his lips and yours and squeezing your breast again.

“It hurts.” Tilting your head back with a whine, your nails dig into his arms.

“Sshh sshh, you can take it, can’t you? Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me?”

“No.” A heavy pout is back on your lips, but you’re not sure it ever truly left. Geto’s brow quirks at your answer and he smirks.

“No? Why not? Is it because I’m not Choso?” He pauses and the silence that fills the air is all the answer he needs. “Didn’t I tell you last night I was your big brother now too? Hm?” As he speaks with slightly forced words his hand drops to the base of your throat and gets a tad tighter than you’re comfortable with.

“Y-yes but-”

“But nothing.” Geto cuts you off with a sharp press of his fingers against your pulse. Releasing your hold on his arms your hands fly up close to your throat, nerves on edge for what could happen next.

“Be a good little girl and let your big brother take care of you (Y/N).”

“But Choso-”

“Do you think Choso wants an inexperienced little baby who can’t handle having her tits groped a little?” Cocking his head to the side, Geto gives you a look. “Well, what do you think?” You’re at a loss for words and he can tell, a slight uptick to the side of his mouth when you lick your lips nervously.

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“Exactly, you don’t know. You don’t know any better, so just let Geto-nii take care of you. I’ll get you nice and ready for Choso, baby, don’t you worry.” Closing in on you once again, he kisses you softer this time, lets you ease into the feeling of his lips on yours.

He goes back to touching your breast just as hard as he was before, tugging on your nipple and making you cry out. You tried to tug his fingers off your nipple but it only made it hurt more. Bundling up Geto’s shirt in your hands, you stood against the counter and whimpered as he moved to the other breast.

“Aw, the poor baby’s crying.” He feels your tears on his face before he can see them and when he pulls back he laughs a little. A soft hiccup catches your throat and you unhinge your fingers from his shirt to wipe at the tears that are falling.

“Cause it hurts.” You mumble, a fresh wave of tears springing forth at the same time a warbled cry does as Geto palms both of your breasts roughly. Standing on your tip-toes you try to shimmy away from the overwhelming sensation.

“Who knew you were so sexy when you cry?” Geto isn’t really looking at you, he’s looking at the tears going down your cheeks. It’s making his cock harder by the minute and he leans forward and darts his tongue out, catching the salty stream and running his tongue up your cheek.

“Ew!” Jerking back with a cry, your hands pushing at his bare chest are useless to stop him. Kissing you right at the corner of your eye, Geto finally relents and stands up straight. Furiously wiping your face off, your lip curls in disgust at the feeling of his drying saliva on your cheek.

Planting a hand behind you, Geto shoves his other hand down your shorts. Cupping your sex in his palm, his fingers tentatively prod at your entrance and spread your lower lips with his fingers. His breathing is heavy and right in your ear, heavily entranced with touching your cunt.

Your legs spread of your own accord to let him find your clit easier. You’re still sniffling, a few tears are still welling in your eyes, but a heady feeling is taking over you. The smell of nicotine and a woody body wash roll off Geto in waves, filling the tight space between you and making you flush.

“What a perfect little cunt you have.” Geto groans, his fingers finally catching your clit and lightly pinching it.

“Geto-nii, please.” Your thighs clamp together around his hand when he does it again, the pleasure shooting up your spine almost painful.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Leaning his forehead against you, Geto shoves your legs open again and puts two fingers on your clit. He goes slow at first, savoring the feeling of touching your cunt. There’s a gentle buck to your hips every time he rolls his fingers just right and your fingers are back to gripping his shirt tightly.

Working up the wetness between your thighs, Geto goes down further and nudges your entrance, collecting the slick and bringing it back to your clit. He does this a few times until there’s a distinct wet sound in the air.

“Have you ever had fingers as big as mine in you?” He asks softly as he works his fingers into your cunt, the squeeze of your walls making his head spin.

“No.” That’s the truth and it makes you burn with shame. The only fingers that had been inside you as of late were your own, and even when it was someone else it wasn’t nearly like the stretch you were getting now.

“Right to the fucking knuckle.” Geto grunts, staring right down your shorts at his fingers buried inside you. “You’re so tight I’m surprised you took it all. What a good girl.” He presses a kiss to your temple and pulls his fingers out, stretching the fabric of your shorts as far as it’ll go.

Slamming them back in, Geto wastes no time in fucking you on his fingers. He’d been nice enough to go slow while he played with your clit, but he was tired of it now. He needed to feel your cunt clamp down on his fingers and see you lose yourself from just them alone.

Your mouth hung open dumbly, a gasp caught in your throat at the sudden change of pace. Looking up at him with wide eyes, you couldn’t get any words out as he pounded your cunt. The knuckles of his fingers rubbed against your clit with every stroke, making your legs twitch and threaten to collapse beneath you.

Your orgasm comes before you even know what’s happening, head falling forward and a loud moan finally spilling from your mouth. Grinding your hips down onto his fingers, a jolt goes through you when Getos thumb comes to rub your clit.

“What a good fucking little sister!” He all but cheers for you, grinding his hand on you and pushing in as far as he can to feel every inch of your spongy walls pulse around him. His chest swells with a bit of pride at getting you to cum and he withdraws from your shorts when you relax. Bringing his fingers up to your face, he spread your slick around his fingers. “Look at how messy you are.”

A muffled groan comes from him as he sticks his fingers into his mouth, savoring the flavor of your cunt and rutting against you slightly. It’s a taste he knows he’s now addicted to and his chest gets even bigger at being the first to taste you - something he’s going to hold over Choso’s head for ages.

Just as he’s cleaned his fingers and is about to shove his impossibly tight boxers off, Geto gets a phone call.

“Fuck, right now?” Gritting his teeth he leaves you to slump against the counter as he bounds over to the couch and grabs his phone. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck you!” He rants at his phone before straightening up and clearing his throat. “Hey, what’s up?”

The switch in his tone catches you off guard and your knees knock together when he looks over at you with scarily wide eyes. His nostrils flared as he listened to whoever spoke, he was clearly worked up and being interrupted wasn’t something he was taking lightly.

“I’ll be there in twenty.” Hanging up his phone right after, Geto let it fall from his hands and clatter onto the floor. He didn’t speak any further, only letting out an angry and frustrated groan as he began to collect his clothes.

“What’s going on?” You whispered hesitantly, watching him quickly gather his hair into a bun.

“Fucking work. Fucking- ugh, stupid fucking creative director just had to call a god damn meeting. Doesn’t the bitch know I’m fucking busy?” Getting the last of his things, Geto nearly storms right past you but catches himself at the last moment. “Hey.”

“Hm?” You look at him just in time for him to plant a heavy hand on the back of your neck and kiss you one last time, hard enough to leave your head spinning.

“I got your number from Choso’s phone, make sure to text me back, little sister.” The words rush out of him as he pulls away and you barely understand them but nod all the same. Slipping his shoes on, Geto opens the door and turns to you one last time. “See you later, little sis.”

“B-bye Geto-nii.” You wave goodbye, cheeks flushing at the bright smile he sends you before slamming the door closed and running down the corridor.

It takes far too long for you to push yourself away from the counter after his footsteps have disappeared entirely. The realization of what just transpired hit you, a dull ache throbbing between your legs as you walked to the couch. Your chest tightened up at the memory of how Geto treated you and the feeling of his hands lingered on you.

Checking your phone, there’s a few messages waiting for you. One from your mother asking how your day was going, a few from your brothers and one from Geto.

(Geto): I miss your pretty pussy already little sis

Attached to the message is a picture that makes waves of embarrassed heat go over your body. It’s taken in a bathroom stall at the closest station, the harsh fluorescent lighting casting weird shadows on Getos body. But that’s not what your focus is on, not at all.

What you’re looking at is his hard cock, flushed a deep angry red at the tip and sticky with precum. Geto hiked his shirt up and shoved his pants down on his thighs, the selfie just catching the way his shirt is tucked into his teeth.

He sends you another message, a video this time with a dark thumbnail. You click on it with no hesitation, heart thumping loudly in your chest and ears ringing as the video comes to life.

“Fuck, look what you did to me baby girl.” Geto’s gruff voice is low and hushed, the sounds of other men coming in and out of the bathroom drowning out his soft groans. The camera is held from a down angle right by his head, directed straight at his hand working his cock over in his fist.

There’s a faint wet clicking sound and you can see the way Getos cock glistens in the light. With his mouth right by the receiver you can hear every little grunt and whimper that leaves his mouth and it makes your thighs clench together tightly, cunt aching to be filled by his fingers again.

The hard muscles of his stomach were shuddering with every downstroke, a slight rock to his hips beginning to take form the longer he went. Geto was very wound up, the playtime with his new little sister cut far too short.

“Wish it was you touching me, I’d cum so fast.” His words come out a hushed whisper and the camera shakes as he begins to really fuck his fist. “Just want your cute little mouth wrapped around me-” Geto’s voice was getting higher strung the more he spoke. “Your cunt felt so good around my fingers- want it- need it on my cock-”

Geto nearly dropped his phone as he came, angling his cock up so it shot onto his stomach, painting his tattooed skin in a sticky film of white. A long moan left him and you could practically see him squeezing his eyes shut tightly, fucking his fist through his orgasm until his cock started to get soft.

The video ends without anything else, screen turning black the second he lets go. You don’t realize how tightly your body has wound up from the video, thighs clenched tightly together and a breath caught in your chest.

(Geto): you like it? I bet you’re touching yourself right now, huh?

(Geto): I’m getting on the train now, hopefully Choso will let me come over again tonight after I tell him how good you taste

(Y/N): no don’t tell him!

You frantically send that message a few times but Geto doesn’t respond, just leaves you on read as soon as the message is sent. Despite the heat between your legs your heart starts to pound for a different reason, hands shaking with fear that Geto really will tell Choso what he did to you.

An hour has passed of you sitting on the couch stewing in worry and the sound of the door opening is what brings you out of your stupor and you almost fling your phone across the room in shame. Choso appears in the doorway with a somber expression on his face, giving you a long look as he toes his shoes off.

“Still in your pajamas I see.” He comments, voice low and even. You nod, still unable to speak with the image of Geto milking his cock still fresh in your mind. Walking further into his apartment Choso stifles a sigh and runs a hand through his hair.

“Why’re you here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” You avoid meeting his steeled gaze, instead focusing on your phone and trying to hide your guilty expression.

“Came home early, thought we could have some lunch together in a cafe before I head back.” Choso’s words are casual but his body language is anything but. With a tight jaw and arms crossed over his chest, you can tell he’s upset.

“What’s wrong?” Your blood begins to run cold as you ask and Choso scoffs, brow quirking in annoyance.

“Why don’t you tell me?” He’s staring directly at you with an unmistakable fire in his eyes. No air fills your lungs as you’re locked into staring back at him, but dread drips slowly down your back. Geto must have told him, that’s why he’s making that face.

“I-I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shaking your head, you move to stand. “I’ll go get changed.” Choso watches you almost run to the bedroom and once you’re there he makes his move.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, huh?” He leans his body against the wall, blocking you from leaving.

“I don’t!” Your voice is getting more defensive by the minute. “I have no idea, Choso-nii.”

“Did he tell you to lie? It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend anymore little sister.” Walking chest to chest with you, Choso stares down his nose at you.

“I’m not lying!” You can feel yourself breaking down, the tension in the air enough to make a painful burning prick behind your eyes and tears threaten to mist your lashes.

“I thought you loved me? Yet you won’t tell me the truth.” Narrowing his eyes, Choso’s hands curl into fists. “Or do you love Geto-nii more now?”

“I don’t love him!”

“No, you must love him otherwise why would you let him touch you like that? Just tell me the fucking truth (Y/N), you care more about Geto now that he made you cum.”

“I don’t-”

“Shut up yes you do. I can’t believe you turned into a stupid little slut who lets anyone touch her.”

“Choso-nii!” Now tears are welling in your eyes the longer you look at him.

“Don’t call me that anymore, I don’t want a little sister like you anymore.” Those words stabbed you right in the heart and Choso could tell by the way a choked gasp came from you. “When I moved out you told me you’d wait for me but I guess that was a lie.”

“I’m sorry!” Tears are falling down your face with no remorse, snot starting to drip out of your nose as well. Gripping Choso’s hoodie in your hands, you refuse to let go as he gives you a hard push. “B-big brother, please!”

“Geto’s your big brother now, not me.”

“No, no he’s not! You are! You are and I love you and I’m sorry!” Bouncing your toes, you wrench your arms around his neck and force him against you. “I didn’t mean to- to do all that.” Choso manages to fling one of your arms off of him and you let out a screech. “No, please!”

“What a good act you’re putting up right now.”

“Big brother!” Burying your face into his hoodie, your nails are nearly clawing through the fabric to feel his skin underneath. “I-I’ll do anything, please don’t do this!”

“You’ll do anything? Is that what you told Geto?”

“No!” Pulling back with horribly blurry vision, you blink fat tears down your cheeks. As your gaze slowly focuses on Choso you’re met with his hollow blank expression. Your chest is heaving as you try to calm down, try to find some other words to say to convince him not to abandon you.

Face unbearably hot and mind clouded with emotion, you lurch forward and push your lips onto his. The kiss is awkward, the angle at which you came at him making your noses bump together uncomfortably.

“Please, please, please.” You beg against his lips, your tears staining his face from how close you are. “Don’t be mad, please.” Kissing him all over his face, you don’t feel his expression change.

“Tell me where he touched you.” Choso says, effectively pushing you away from him in one go.

“What?”

“Tell me where he touched you.” He repeats, pushing you to the bed. Your knees buckle as soon as they meet the mattress and you fall down across the messy sheets. Stripping off his hoodie and pants, you can see the outline of his cock when his shirt moves.

“He…” You begin, but stop as Choso sinks both knees into the mattress and straddles you.

“Go on.” He grabs your chin and forces your head to tilt up.

“First he kissed me.” One of your hands comes up, gesturing to all the places on your face where he kissed you.

“With his tongue, too?” Choso’s eyes dart around your face and he grimaces when you nod. “Bastard.” Gripping your chin harder, Choso leans down and kisses your wet cheek, the tip of his tongue lightly grazing your skin to drink in your tears.

“Choso-nii!” Squirming as the slimy appendage follows along with his lips, you yelp when he gets to your ear and licks there too.

“Geto was right about one thing - you’re fucking hot when you cry.” Blowing cool air over your ear, he goes back to your lips. They’re much drier than Geto’s but you like it, let his tongue in immediately when he pushes it in.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer. Your mouths slot together, drool beginning to drip down your face as Choso pushes more of himself on you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, he ruts into your shorts, his cock coming to life.

“Where else?” His voice is raspy when he pulls away and he doesn’t go far.

“Here.” You shake your shoulders side to side, making your breasts move under your shirt. Choso hikes your shirt up over your breasts, your nipples already hard and waiting for him.

“Look at you, my pretty little sister.” With an unwavering gaze, Choso smooths his palms over your breasts. “Geto really touched you here with his dirty hands?”

“Y-yeah, he was too rough. It hurt a lot.” Choso nodded as you spoke, running soft fingers over your nipples and taking them gently between his fingers.

“Geto is a big meanie, hurting my baby like that.” He chided and leaned down to plant a kiss between your breasts. “I told him to be gentle too.” Choso begins to pepper kisses all over your chest. “He promised he’d wait until we got back home from work but the bastard just couldn’t help himself, huh?”

“What?”

“Geto and I wanted to give you a gift tonight but it seems he was unable to wait.” Cupping your breasts, Choso flicked one of your nipples with his tongue making you jump. “I told him he had to wait for me to be there, I know how rough he can get with girls. And it seems I wasn’t mistaken.”

Kissing you before you have the chance to really think about the words he said, Choso gropes your breasts softly. It’s a stark contrast to how rough Geto had been, when Choso rolls your nipples between his fingers you don’t try to get away.

Littering kisses down your neck, Choso sucks on your nipples gently, grazing them with his teeth and running his hands up and down your sides. With every pleasurable wave that goes through you, you buck your hips up into his, the feeling of his hard cock brushing against you making you more excited.

“He touched you here too, I know that.” Choso says with his mouth pressed against your chest, his hand pushing between your bodies to cup your sex through your shorts. “Was he rough here, too?”

“A little.”

“Geto-nii really is just a big jerk, isn’t he?” He asks you with a soft smile, running his other hand over your face and cupping your cheek.

“Yeah, a big meanie.” You pout up at him, nuzzling your cheek into his hand.

“I’ll make you feel all better, don’t worry baby.” Unraveling his body from yours, he nudges you up the bed. “Take your clothes off and put your head on the pillow, get comfortable for me.”

You immediately do as he says, stripping yourself bare in record time. Choso steps back to take his clothes off as well and his cock slaps against his stomach when he takes off his underwear.

Crawling back onto the bed, Choso falls face first between your legs, catching himself on his elbows. He’s directly facing your cunt, his nose is so close he wouldn’t need to lean far at all to put it on you.

“Choso-nii.” Your head falls back with a sigh against the pillows as he runs his hands over your inner thighs, spreading your lips and exposing your leaking cunt for him.

“What a pretty fucking pussy you have, Geto was right about that too.” Blowing air onto you, he chuckles softly when your hole clenches around nothing. Leaning forward, Choso places a gentle kiss on your clit and your thighs nearly clamp around him.

“Choso!” A hand flies down to grip his hair as his lips wrap around your clit, his thumb pulling back the hood. The action is enough to make your thighs wrap around his head, your hips bucking high off the bed the longer he runs his tongue over you.

Choso doesn’t mind the squeeze, he welcomes it in fact and wraps an arm around your leg, pulling you closer to his face. A series of heady pants leave your mouth, eyes rolling back when he gives a brief, sharp suck.

Letting go of your clit, Choso pushes his face deeper into your cunt and worms his tongue inside you. Lapping at your walls Choso groans as you tighten around his tongue, your essence flowing into his mouth that he swallows eagerly. There’s drool beginning to pool on his lower lip, dripping down the crack of your ass and staining his bed.

Getting drunk off the taste of your cunt, Choso ruts against the bed as he fucks you with his tongue. More groans come from deep within his chest and when your hips buck up into him he rides the motion, encouraging you to do it more.

Going back to your clit, Choso wiggles two fingers between your legs and pushes them deep inside you. His fingers aren’t as long as Geto’s but they’re thicker, stretching you in a way the other man simply could not. The rough calluses on your brothers fingers served him well, the extra friction on that special spot inside you making you keen.

“Go ahead and cum, (Y/N), use me for your pleasure.” Choso’s breathless as he speaks, forcing his head up from the vice grip you’re holding him in.

“Choso-nii, please-” Your entire back is arched high off the bed, your hips canting up to fuck yourself on his fingers. Choso bites his lip and watches your face contort for a moment before diving back down and honing in on your clit.

His fingers inside you go slower than Getos, milking the feeling of your walls around him for as long as possible. The pace is almost unbearable and not enough, but his mouth on your clit makes up for it.

As you cum the hand grabbing Choso’s hair tightens, pushing his face deeper into you as you ride out the waves. A loud, unabashed moan comes from you, whatever neighbors are home next door have definitely heard it. Choso fucks you through your orgasm, mouth going down to catch your release.

When your body finally relaxes is when Choso comes up from between your legs. His face is smeared with his spit and your slick and he wipes it off on the back of his hand, catching his breath as he moves over you and hooks your legs back around his waist.

“Are you ready, baby?” The tip of his cock is dragging up and down your slit, making the growing fuzziness in your head even stronger. You nod, eager to have him inside you. “Use your words.”

“I’m- I’m ready.” You speak with a heavy tongue, arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders in an attempt to get him closer. Satisfied, Choso pushes in with little resistance, his cock gliding in easily with the amount of slick you have.

“Fuck-” He chokes as he bottoms out, a delicious shiver running through him. Chosos cock is thick like his fingers are, stretching you out and making you squirm. Panting and heaving, he draws out halfway and pushes back in with the wet squelching of your cunt around him.

“Big brother!” Your nails dig into his back, hips rising to meet his slow thrusting. His back bows deeply, trying to keep as much control as he can over himself. All Choso wants to do is sit back and pound into you, make you cream all over him and maybe even squirt.

But he takes his time, working his cock into you at a nice and even pace. He has a point to prove, that he’s better than Geto and that he’ll treat you better. He knows he will, knows he can, but he needs you to know it too.

Digging your feet into his lower back, you huff. Being fucked by Choso is better than you could ever imagine, the veins on his cock dragging across your walls wonderfully, but you need more. This slow pace can only keep you satisfied for so long.

“Getting impatient?” Choso chuckles, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. Curling his fists into the pillow beneath you, Choso snaps his hips into yours. “I’ll give you what you want, don’t worry.”

Choso slowly increased the speed of his hips, the slapping of wet skin against skin getting louder and louder. The control he had was slipping away with every thrust, his lip caught tightly between his teeth as he watched your eyes roll back.

“Choso-nii, ah- ah-” The moans coming out of your mouth were so pretty Choso held his breath to be able to hear them better. He tried to keep his head upright to stare at you, but the drag of his heavy cock inside you was making it impossible.

Dropping his head to rest in the crook of your neck, Choso kissed and sucked on your flesh as he fucked you. Your body rocked with every thrust, a moan spilling out every time he bottomed out and nails dragging down his back.

“Take my cock so fucking well-” Choso panted, grabbing under your ass to angle your hips higher. “My lil sis so good to me-” His head was clouding up from pleasure and his words dissolved into babbles.

Chosos teeth scraped against your neck as he spoke, adding to all the sensations washing over you. You moaned right along with what he was saying even though half of his words didn’t make it to your ear, muffled by his mouth pressed against your neck.

A squeal ripped through you as Choso clumsily rubbed your clit, making you tighten around him even harder. He growled deep from his chest, it was becoming almost impossible to drag his cock out of you.

“Choso-nii! I’m- ah-” Tears pricked your lashes you squeezed your eyes so hard together. The pleasure was coming to a head, making your ears ring and mouth fall open in a perfect O. Strained moans broke through, echoed by sharp gasps of air you forced into your lungs.

At the sound of you coming undone, Choso came as well. His hips went even faster, chasing the high for as long as he could. Your cunt gushed around him, mixing with the seed he was pumping into you and creating an even bigger mess on his sheets.

Choso slammed his lips onto yours, desperate to take as much as you could give him. His fingers didn’t stop moving on your clit until you feebly pushed his hand away, and that’s when he knew he could slow down.

“I love you.” Choso says immediately after he stops moving, his body buzzing with happy hormones and a drunken smile is on his face.

“I love you too!” You reply quickly, still trying to catch your breath. Choso stays buried inside you until his cock goes soft and then he pulls out slowly, watching his cum string along his cock and keeping the two of you connected.

“You did so well for me.” He mused, falling to your side and closing his eyes. He’s already pulling you into a side hug before he can even think, throwing the blankets over the two of you to keep the chill from evaporating sweat away.

You lay quietly together, catching your breath and sharing soft kisses together. Your heart is absolutely full of love for Choso, and a smile threatens to never leave your face. It strains your cheeks and makes them ache but you don’t try to push it away.

“How about we get some lunch now?” Choso asks after twenty minutes.

“Okay.” Nodding softly, you make no move to get up from his hold, instead curling into him even more and staying there for another few minutes.

“Alright, let’s really get up now.” Rocking back and forth, Choso rolls on top of you for a moment before rolling completely off the bed. “I’m fucking starving.”

You get dressed after Choso cleans his cum from between your thighs, giving you soft kisses on your stomach and hips as he does so. He keeps an arm around you the entire time, never letting you stray too far from him as you walk to the front door.

“Oh, and (Y/N)?” He stops right as you open the front door.

“Yes?”

“Give me your phone, I’m blocking Geto’s number and deleting those fucking nudes.”

[weasleypogues]

fight club (p.h.)

request: hii can i request smth angsty with pope ? maybe it could end well for both the reader and him but overall it’s just filled with angst and slow burn and tension ? ty xx

ofc lovieee!!! loving this pope recognition finally!! :)

this will be a two part becuause this was longer than i expected!!! part 2 here!!!

masterlist.

you literally felt like you could not sit still. anger was pulsating through your veins as you paced back and forth on the porch of the chateau. you also felt the piercing eyes of pope follow you back and forth as you struggled to form a cohesive sentence.

“it’s just- ugh! she can’t get away with this! she thinks because she’s a kook that i’ll be begging for her forigveness and shit like i’m a starving peasant just to save my reputation! i’m a fucking pogue, i don’t have a reputation to uphold!” you spat as your hands clenched together so hard you swear you were going to accidentally draw blood from your palms.

vanessa was a kook that you never had problems with when you were kids because you two had a friendship that was secretive and playful because of opposing groups. it wasn’t until middle school was when she ditched you, similar to kie and sarah’s relationship. thankfully for them, they sorted it out. however, vanessa was bitter and bitchy every chance she could get. 

“yes (y/n)! keep it fiesty! i wanna see you win a good cat fight.” jj egged you on.

“you’re gonna make yourself go crazy if you don’t just sit down.” pope spoke in a sterner tone than you would have expected. but as the rage filled you from vanessa, pope’s tone was not helping. you felt a tinge of hurt in your chest as he expressed his clear stress and annoyance with you. but you weren’t going to let it go that easily; not in this state.

“i’m fine just the way i am, thanks.” you responded just as passive-aggressively as he did. you literally had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes so you wouldn’t egg this on, because the last thing you needed was for pope of all people to be on your bad side. 

you heard him scoff from behind you and his footsteps faded away. you spun around so quickly, maybe even too quickly to play it cool, to just see a flash of him as he turned the corner. your eyes flashed to john b, kie, and jj who had expressions that were just as shocked as your own.

“what’s his problem?” you asked, expecting an answer real quick before you had to go investigate it yourself. your teeth grinded against each other and you felt your face and ears go hot. 

“he probably just doesn’t think this is worth it (y/n/n).” kiara stated, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt and giving you a look that said don’t let it get to you. kiara shared a quick glance with john b and jj, which definitely did not go unnoticed by you.

“w-what was that? that little look you three shared?” you asked pointing your finger at them interchangeably and confused but angrily eager to find out. you raised your eyebrows, expecting another speedy answer as you finally turned towards jj who held his hands up in defense and bit his tongue. 

“cut pope some slack. you’ve been looking for trouble lately (y/n), it’s been keeping him on edge each time.” john b responded and slapped his hands on this thighs before getting up off the couch. you felt your cheeks get a little hot and your jaw drop slightly.

pope was trying to be protective of you. this was not a secret that you and pope were always flirty with each other but neither of you ever acted on it. both keeping the same sad mindset, if they wanted to, they would. everytime you talked about this with kiara and sarah at a girls’ night, they playfully judged you for thinking like that and tried to encourage you to just go for it. 

you took a deep inhale and relaxed your shoulders and face, feeling the tension ease up on your body. “she’s asking for it...look i don’t want to make pope upset or anything but vanessa can’t keep pulling this shit. she’s asking for her teeth to get knocked in.” you huffed out as you grabbed your backpack and phone to hop on your bike and head home. 

--

your grabbed your phone and backpack as you headed back outside to your bike. you didn’t even bother to text the rest of the group about catching a ride to tonights kegger because you were just a little fired up from earlier. they were your friends and if this were any other case, they would be backing you up. why is this time any different?

you’re recalling yourself getting ready. stud earrings because she can grab hold of hoops. your hair in two braids because there was less surface area for her to snatch onto. sneakers to make a run for it in case shit gets bad. 

what the rest of them don’t understand is that not only was vanessa mean, spoiled, and made your existence on the obx difficult, was that you had a bumpy past with her. more than just losing a friend. she made up a rumor based on fake ideas that she overheard her parents talking about. when she would run into you on the street with her other kook friends at the ripe age of 13, she would be a bystander as they spat insults your way. that always caused a strain in your friendship. 

until one day, she started the picking on first. she judged you on your family’s financial situation and said quote-by-quote “i heard her mom cheats on her dad with all of her little pogue friend’s dads. who knows, they could actually be related and we wouldn’t know. she’s a whore and i’m sure she’ll end up just like her.” tears still brim your eyes at that memory. you wouldn’t dare tell the rest of the pogues, whether it was out of embarassment or fear. it was best for them and their own minds that it was never brought up again. since then, it seems like constant torture from her. 

you pulled up on the beach and hopped off your bike as your tires were definitely not made for the sand. you laid it on a tree and made a b-line to the keg that john b was basically guarding. “thought we’d hear from you.” you heard kiara state as she sat on the sand and glanced up at you, squinting her eyes to keep the remaining sun from basically burning them.

“yeah well, just got a lot on my mind.” you responded. you didn’t want to be so abrupt with them but your blood was basically boiling with the idea of vanessa. john b stared between you and kiara and handed you a full red solo cup which you gladly took, taking a gulp.

“soooo...” jj started, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “cat fight tonight?” you felt a chuckle rise out of you as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“if you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll get front row.” you joked, sending a smirk jj’s way and taking another gulp. you felt a presence behind you and turned to be faced with pope. his facial expression had clearly changed from what you saw from him last time. he looked almost guilty and concerned rather than aggravated. 

“come to snap at me again?” you said, turning towards the horizon on the water. looking into his eyes right now was difficult. maybe because it was the idea that you knew some part of you wanted to snap at him for him snapping at you earlier but you couldn’t make another enemy. not tonight. 

“about that...can i actually talk to you for a minute?” pope muttered, instincitvely cracking his knuckles, clearly scared to tread on water. you felt your shoulders relax and your facial muscles follow suit. placing your drink and backpack on the ground you followed a few paces behind him, closer to the sand where the tide was rolling in. although he didn’t stop, he wanted this to be a walk and talk situation. 

you strolled beside him, both of your hands slightly brushing against each other every now and then. while neither of you took initiative to grab the others’ hand, neither of you pulled your hands out of that pathway either. that connection and touch felt nice. it was reassuring that his snappiness, along with your own, was out of love and protection of each other. 

“you won’t be happy with what i’m about to say...” pope started, basically holding his breath.

“so why say it, pope? i know it sounds bad to say outloud but, why not just let me fight her? she has made my existence so unbearably difficult on this island and has slandered my name and countless others of those i love too much and for too long. i’m sick of being a pushover and letting her get away with it because of mommy and daddy’s money. im done!” you blurted out, letting more info out than you expected. “why does it bother you so much? if this was topper and john b going at it, or rafe and jj? which keep in mind, both have actually happened, i’m sure you would be more hesitant to stop them.”

your strolling came to a sudden halt as pope took a step directly in front of you, face to face. he looked longingly into your eyes, somewhat darting back and forth between your own eyes to search for an answer to his questions or even an answer to yours. 

“(y/n)! i can’t see you get hurt. i know how badly you want to do this and how much it means to you but in the end, what is it going to get you? an even worse reputation among kooks, bloody nose, and a black eye? is it worth it?” pope rambled drasticaly. 

“it is worth it! and i’m so thankful that you care about me and my well being and everything in between but this is something that i have to do. once and for all. i’m not putting myself and everyone i love through this torture anymore. and if that means beating the shit out of her and getting a bloody lip and battered up on the way, than so be it!” you responded, using your hands quite animatedly throughout the performance. the waves seemed like the loudest thing on earth as you awaited an answer from pope. he looked defeated and anxious, knowing that there was no getting through to you for this. 

“i-” pope started before cutting himself off, looking deafeated yet again. he ran his hands over his face in frustration and as he let his eyes shine over the tips of his fingers, they locked with yours. you felt stuck in place and in a trance for a split second before you felt a pair of hands on your waist and soon enough, you were lip locked with pope. 

instantly you pulled away, your heart feeling full and your legs feeling limp. your hands made their way to his jawline, slightly caressing his cheeks and neck as you pulled him back into the kiss, elongating it. 

he pulled away, shocked yet proud with himself. you could not help the small smile that made it’s way onto your face as your cheeks felt hot immediately. “i can’t believe i’m saying this but...fuck it. beat the shit out of vanessa.” 

the small smile grew as a laugh escaped your lips. you were quick to grab his hand as you both made your way back towards the kegger that was becoming a little more dense as the minutes passed. sarah, kiara, jj, and john b’s eyes were quick to fall on your interlocked hands with pope. both of you kept quiet, playing it nonchalantly. but you couldn’t help but notice pope’s look to john b and jj, all with smirks lined up on their faces.

part two out later!! :) 

[tomdiddlyumptious]

Can u do a dad Tom holland x mom black reader where they have a 2 year old son ( Elijah ) and a 1 month old daughter (Ellie ) and his fans are being mean because your baby girl is darker than her big brother and Tom tells them to stop on a livestream but they don’t and he takes a break because he more frustrated than reader is . And the next day y/n go to Toms parents house and y’all talk about it and y/n sobs ending in fluff

YOU WONT BELIEVE THE SWEAT I HAVE DRIPPED FOR THIS ASK, I DID DO A LITTLE OVERBOARD, NICE ASK, NICE COCK 👍🏽 OH AND I MADE A MISTAKE ABOUT THE NEXT DAY THING, I WAS CAUGHT UP IN THE MOMENT

warnings: I DONT KNOWWW, NO SMUT BUT SËX REFRENCES- FLUFF? AND CHILDRENN NOT PROOF READ BITCHES

T.H| TITTIESSSS

Tom smiled as he posted the picture, cuddling into his small daughter as you took care of your son. You both weren’t really doing anything just binge watching Soul Eater because you refused to watch love island.

“I don’t get this show, it’s terrible” “your terrible” you chuckled at him, noticing that Ellie was slowly starting to tear up. “I think someone’s hungry yeah? Come here Ellie” you cooed, Tom picking up the small child and placing her into your arms while he took Elijah, whos currently side tracked from TV, you pulled down your, Toms, oversized shirt to feed Ellie. Smiling as she sucked the soul out of you.

“You know-“ “we can’t have sex” “but Ellie gets to get your nipples and I don’t?” “Do you want her to starve?” “No I want to have sex” he clarified, rolling your eyes you placed some of her hair behind her ear.

Toms phone started to ding and he furrowed his eyebrows, he opened his phone and read the comments “it’s the girl being darker then the boy for me” “why is Ellie darker then Elijah?” “she’s a cheater- I told you Tom” and some trying to defend “y/n is literally darker then Tom, what did you expect? I’m so sorry this is happening” “did y’all really have to put the baby in this? We all know y/n doesn’t play about her kids”

“What’s wrong Tom?” You say, now playing with Eli’s hair. Tom only frowned at you “I’m tired of people thinking that they know most, at this point it’s really annoying” “what’s wrong Thomas?” You asked, more sternly as you pulled lee away, but she starts to cry some so you put her back.

“Nothing love, you hungry though?” He asked, trying not to make you feel anyway at the moment. “No I want you to tell me what’s wrong and right now Thomas, forreal” you made eye contact with him, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not telling you y/n” he simply says, getting up forgetting his phone and walking into the kitchen.

“I have to find out myself then!” You yell, taking his phone and scrolling through your guessing comments?. You aren’t the one to scroll through his phone at any cost because you trust him entirely, but he’s pissed and you need to find out why.

Patting lees diaper you sequenced you’re eyes to read the comments, zendaya saying “they are both so cute! Where have y’all been be seen I need to come over, like right now”, Jacob B commenting “look at lil man!” And others but as you continued to scroll down you found the negative ones.

Just reading them so fast as your blood line ran cold, you didn’t notice that Tom was coming back. “Y/n stop” he says, putting the glass of water down and reaching over Eli to take the phone but you snatched it back. “Is this what they think of me? Of my kids?” You say weakly, showing him the phone as your eyes started to water.

“Don’t listen to them, we brought Eli and Lee for ourself, not for them. Let’s just take a-“ his heart dropped as tears silently trailed down your cheeks, still reading the comments. “You are only making it worse, give me the phone Y/n” “no” “give me, the phone” he said madly, not at you but at others. He reached all the way over, watching out for the kids and taking the phone without a fight.

You detached lee and fixed yourself, lifting your knee and placing her on the pad of your thigh wiping your tears and you took her small hands.

Tom only through his phone on the nightstand and turned off the TV “what are you doing?” You ask him, “let’s take a nap yeah? I’ll when we wake up I’ll do a live or something to communicate with them” he took off his shirt and sat on the bed, sighing as you only seen the back of his head, he ran his hands through his hair, not letting them, his so called ‘fans’ get to him.

Tom laid down and threw the blankets over him, turning off the light and making it as dark as possible although it was only about 1 in the evening. “I don’t think I can go to sleep” you say as he turns in your direction, “then try darling, I really don’t want us to be stressed out love” he gave a smile, playing the the loose curls in Eli’s hair while looking at you.

“Yeah okay” you nod, Tom taking lee again while you took Eli. Eli smiled as he gave you a slimy kiss “ew!” You smiled, you let out a sniffle and Eli frowned at it, kissing your nose. You giggled and wiped it off, noticing an arm around your waist trying to pull you closer you came closer, Toms hand going down to yours and putting his fingers in between yours as you did the same and gave a squeeze. “I love you, y/n” he mumbles, his thumb brushing your knuckle. “I love you too”

“Ready?” He asked, you sitting next to him and the babies are sleep, you nod, “ready”. He started the live, about two minutes in everyone started to join. He took your hand and smiled down at you, returning it you kiss his cheek. Sooner or later he had about 6-9k and he cleared his throat,” I’m pretty sure you’ve all seen the comments and I’d like to ask all of you to stop” he simply asked, the comment bar flooded of hurtful words, they weren’t gonna stop anytime soon. “Lee is a child she doesn’t deserve to be treated this way, you not only hurting her your hurting my wife, MY wife” he pointed to his chest “you also hurting me, y/n doesn’t do SHIT-“ he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, rubbing his back.

“She doesn’t do shit but tries to show you how happy we are, for all of you saying that she’s cheating she isn’t, she’s been with me, do you see her skin?” He asked, looking at you and kissing your cheek “she has color, I don’t of course Ellie is going to be darker then her brother, they aren’t fucking twins!” He yells. He gets tired of it and pins one of the comments “maybe you should stick to your color and this wouldn’t of had to happen, you shouldn’t even be here”. “That’s the shit nobody should say, don’t talk to my wife like that you fuckin-“ “that’s it Thomas you asked, calm down” you whispered, his face red as his jaw is clenched, he bites his lip as he apologizes “I’m sorry, but please I just- I’ve worked so hard and found love, I found a wife. It makes me mad that you can’t accept that-that I can’t be happy without one paparazzi and news about me, I want a break and I want a family, and now that I have one none of you support me- or most” he refused to cry infront of them but is was heart clattering. “I-bye” he simply says, grabbing his phone and ending the live.

“You did your best-“ you get cut off by his phone ringing. His mom was calling, he instantly answered “yeah mom- yeah” he sighed “alright we’ll be over”. “They want us to come over” he stood up and took your hand, pulling you up with him he gave you a peck on the lips. “I love you Thomas” you wrap your arms around him. “I love you to, and I’m not going anywhere”

You and Thomas walked to the door with one car seat each in your hands, he knocked on the door and was instantly met with Sam “hey! Give them here-“ “wait give me lee!” Harry said, running up and taking the car seat from your hand making you laugh, Sam took the other and they both walked off to the kitchen with distant talks like “please be my taste tester” “I wanna take photos with you!”

Tom put the keys in your back pocket, walking in he called for his mom and she told them both to come to the livingroom. As you both walked dom sat up and gave you a hug while Nikki gave Thomas a hug. “I’m so sorry about those twats, your children are so beautiful” he rubbed your back slowly.

“Thank you” you whispered, hugging him back tightly. He let you go and rubbed your arms as he gave you a sweet smile, soon treading and Nikki gave you a hug “I love you and your children, we both support you so much and want you to know we are here for you, come sit” she stops hugging you and takes your hand, pulling you to the couch.

Tea was on the white coffee table and you and Tom sat on the mint grey couch, the couch you don’t touch if you live there. “It’s just-“ you sighed, Tom rubbing your back as you fought the tears. “I love your son so much and to think that I would ever hurt him-or you guys in anyway is just so hurtful, and having the pressure of everyone going against me and our child- comparing them as if they can stick up for themselves” you cried, you didn’t fight it. They are your family now, and forever will be. Tom didn’t like seeing you cry at all, it almost makes him cry, seeing you weep and vulnerable isn’t well for him because when he met you you were a strong, independent woman, and you still are but it hurts him too much.

“Yeah” dom nods, passing you a tissue and Tom takes it, pulling your face to him and patting under your eyes. “But they don’t matter, we are your family and we know from our hearts and our mind that you didn’t do anything wrong” Nikki weakly smiles, seeing you cry really is heart breaking, you just gave birth a month ago and depression is so severe. “We love you y/n, your child is our grandchildren no doubt” dom smiles, reaching over and holding your hand gently. “I love you, you are so important to me, our children are so important to me, just all of us in general are so important to me, so important that I’d quit anything for you, for my children, it’s us, a household, a family” Thomas pulls you close.

Eli saying “yum! YAY! More!” In the background with Sam making you laugh, he ends up running to you with a spoon filled with pasta. “Taste! Yummy!” He smiles at you, his baby face and small teeth “hurry mommy!” You smile and open your mouth Eli feeding it to you and you hum in satisfaction. “It is yummy, who made it?” You asked, “I did! I helped sam” Sam walked up to the livingroom, leaning on the wall. “I’m coming!” Harry yells, airplaning lee into the livingroom “pshhhhh” Harry does sound effects, lee laughing making you all smile. Eli jumps in your lap and looks at your face “why are you crying mommy?” You let out a chuckle “because I love all of you” “love you to mommy” he hugs you, Harry handing lee to you and hugging her back, Tom joining as Sam walks closer and sits next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and soon everyone is group hugging. “Umm- your squeezing me!” Eli whispers, everyone laughing as you all just take in the whole thing, happy that this is your new family, other then your other precious family also.

[alexwritesfiction]

heaven

word count: 2k

tw // mcd

A/N: This is an emotional scene so take care lmao

I take a deep breath and step up on the alter, my nerves wracking. Anxiety sets in, the only question on mind as to where Xavier could be. And what did Aleander mean by gift?

As more time passes by, the looks on our families’ faces grow worried, making me even more nauseated. I can't believe he's late on our wedding day. As pissed off as I am, i can't help but want to call him and make sure he's alright. A bad feeling sets itself in my stomach. I'm gonna kill him.

“Where is he?” I almost growl at Ray, who’s standing just a few feet away from the steps.

“I don’t know, Cath,” he whispers in a shaky voice, and I know he's freaking out too. Xavier means so much to him, he knows that today was important to him. I can tell by his face that he can't comprehend why he wouldn’t be here on time.

I try to calm myself down, to not think about worst case scenarios, but my mind is a haze.

A ringtone cuts through the air and I can feel it in my heat that it's him. I sigh in relief.

Everyone’s eyes whips to Mom, who has my phone in her clutch. Her eyes widen as she frantically takes it out, almost stumbling as she tries to reach me.

I hurry to her and snatch it out of her hands, my fiancé’s name flashing on the screen with our photo from the baking session. My fingers shake as I look up to see everyone desperately waiting for me to pick the call. My fingers slide across the screen and the phone is barely put to my ear before I hear his faint voice.

“Principessa, how are you?” a small but firm voice speaks through the line. That’s all he's got to say? He's late and he's asking me how I am? My tolerance shoots through the roof as I try not to blow up.

“Xav, where are you right now? I'm here literally standing at the altar and you're not here and the officiant—” I rush out, only to be cut off.

“This is goodbye, baby,” he chokes out in a broken voice, and I try to imagine his face right now but I can't. my heart stops. Freezes for a second before completely dropping to my knees. The thing that scares me the most about this is that his voice is as serious as anything and I know he isn’t joking. He didn’t call me by my nickname, he just said goodbye.

A lightheaded feeling takes over my mind as I try to form a complete sentence to reply to him. I can't breathe, there's a heaviness in my chest that won't go away.

“What— Xav, what,” I stutter out. A beat passes before a small “no” falls from my lips and I feel everyone around me tense. I don’t have the mind to look at them and all I can concentrate on is how he just said goodbye.

“Marry me, principessa? Right now?”

And that does it, a tear escapes my eyes and I lose my cool. My ohone almost falls from my grip but I tighten it in my hand so much that I feel my knuckles turning white. I walk back up to the altar, I feel safe there. I wipe awy the stray tear and set my face into a firm expression , failing to let it seem like my soul didn’t just escape me.

“Get your ass down here, Xav, or I swear to god I'll hunt you down right now,” I almost growl out, and I hear a faint chuckle. I feel Ray pacing around and I look up at hik to see him on a phone call. I can hear him telling someone to find out where he is. He runs out to his car and I divert my attention back to him.

“Ray’s coming to get you, Xav. What’s going on?” I croak out, no longer able to hold back the desperation in my voice. I tremble as I speak, and Tahlia comes up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I barely register to shoot her a grateful look but his next words break me.

“I'm so sorry, principessa, always and forever,” he says in a soothing voice, God darn it, Xav. It's only then that I register what’s happening. He promised to never say goodbye, and now he is. He promised he’d never go away and now I feel like he is. He said he’ll only ever say goodbye when of us is taking our last breaths when were old and wrinkly and he's saying it right now and I'm losing my control.

“No!” I exclaim, “I'm not letting you die on me, Xav! I won't! Don’t you even dare, you can't do this to me,” I say loudly, hating how my voice cracks at the end.

“Principessa, I accept you to forever be mine, and that youll forever live in my heart. I take you to be my wife till death do us apart. I do, Cath. Do you—”

He just said his vows.

“Yes! God yes, Xav. You don’t get to do this to me! This isn’t how it's supposed to work! We were supposed to have this…this magical ending and we were supposed to take on the world and you weren’t supposed to do this, Xav,” I cry.

We just got married, and he's not here

“We don’t always get our happy end, do we? And you, principessa, you were the biggest happiness of my life,” he says, sniffling. I can't hear him cry, haven't heard him since his mother’s death anniversary. It's unreal, to see him unravel. I don’t like how he's using past tense, like he's already not there.

“Xav, no, please, I love you so much, come back here, hold on a little while, baby, you’ll be okay,” I choke out. I feel numb, like everything arounf me has turned into thi air and I'm alone, holding on to his voice like it's life support.

“I love you, Catherine Lily North,”

“I love you, Xavier Lee Blackheart,”

“Catherine Lily North, I love you,” he says with a huge smile on his face. My heart beats out of my chest as I try to comprehend what he just said. As reality sinks in, I mirror his smile, clutching his hand. “I love you, Xavier Lee Blackheart,” I say, and his eyes widen. I guess he didn’t expect me to say it back because the next thing I know, he's pressing his lips to mine.

His unruly breathing makes its way to my ears as he doesn’t reply, making me grip onto Tahlia’s hand, almost crushing her fingers. It's a miracle I'm still standing. I let go of her hand and bunch up my gown’s clothing, like it's somehow gonna take me to him.

His breathing shallows, and my mind almost bursts in panic.

“Xav? Xav! Stay with me! Please, babe, I won't be able to do this without you, I can't,”

“Yes, you can, principessa—”

“Not without you! Never without you, please. I need you here with me, right by my side, holding my hand, Xav,” I beg him to stay, but it's like my plea falls on deaf ears.

He doesn’t say anything, and his breathing keeps getting fainter and fainter, until he cracks the silence.

“I hope you know I fought for you, my love,” he whispers. He seems to calm down from the high of pessimistic things and it makes a small ray of hope shine through me.

“I know you did,” I say, but something tells me he isn’t just talking about with his father.

“I got your lillies,” he says. I can detect the small smile on his face as he laughs softly. He bought me lilies, for my middle name, for my wedding day. For us.

Memories flashes through my mind and I let go of my dress I was clutching on, flicking it back and forth in anxiety.

“Remember what I said about last words, principessa?” he voice suddenly reappears, his words striking a memory and making my heart race.

“i’ve always wanted my last words to be your name,” he says, a serene smile on his face as he strokes me cheek, before leaning in and pressing a small kiss to my forehead. I giggle, feeling all the peace in the world right here with me.

“Yes…Xavier, NO, nope, not happening. We are not doing this right now. Xavier, listen to me,” I choke out, shaking my head frantically, holding onto the officiant’s desk for support.

A long inhale follows, like he's struggling to breathe. Struggling to stay.

“Principessa,” he says, with a sudden franticness in his voice that makes me almost fall over the edge. His breathing softens.

“Xav—”

His breathing stops. Terminates. Discontinues.

And he dies.

“Xavier!” I scream out, my throat rough. I want to shout out at the heavens, I want to kill the people who killed him, I want to freaking destroy the planet for bringing our story such an ill fate. I want to do so much, but I can't.

I can't, because he's not here. I can't, because he's gone. Because he’ll never be here again.

My hand loses its grip on the desk and I collapse, the call falling from my hand. My knees crumble and I fall to the ground as violent sobs wrack my body, refusing to stop. I vividly feel someone putting theIr arms around me, and I just fall onto them, my eyes closing. I want nothing more to see him

To feel him one last time. To tell him I love him. To hug him, to kiss him until we’re dazed. To spend forever with him.

My numbness leaves and I feel everything all at once, a whirlwind of emotions staggering me with their force and I can do nothing more than wail and cry. I feel the force of the universe weighing me down and I physically can't get away. My mind claws at me and I cry out in pain, thrashing out at anything that comes in my vicinity.

My wedding dress that he picked out for me with adoration in his eyes comes to bite me and I want nothing more than to feel him with me again. To rip this dress in half but also treasure it forever.

I hit the ground and then gently run my hands on it like it’s Xavier’s face. I cradle him in my mind and it’s like the earth has shattered beneath me. It tears me apart that I just lost a part of myself to heaven.

The darkness around me becomes so much that overcome with love and grief that when I finally close my eyes and surrender myself to darkness, I only see him everywhere.

Him. Everywhere.

———

How you like that? XD

taglist:

@petitpancakes @skinni-ciggis @bubblegum18 @cbfjdx @fckingpernico @dumbsouvenir @i-like-5sos @heartbreakgirlisagoodsongcalum @neptune-falls @metanoiamorii @thescatteredscribbles @little-boats-on-a-lake @talesofsorrowandofruin @w-l-ink @baguettethebooklover @euphoniouspandemonium @wannabeauthorzofija @lady-of-himring @the-writing-avocado @ink-fireplace-coffee @your-local-book-worm345

[sarahwroteathing]

ALRIGHT. I’M REQUESTING MY OWN DEATH. ‘it’s a remedy i knew. helps with your throat.’ With Steve please

I Love You Drabbles

When Steve wandered into the common room that morning, a hushed argument had broken out between Natasha, Clint, Sam, and Tony.

“Not a chance in hell. Last time I went in there while she was sick, she pelted me with cough drops!”

“Going into a sick person’s room in your full armor ‘because germs’ is the opposite of bedside manner, Tony. You had it coming,” Nat said, rolling her eyes.

“She’s not even sick. She was just scream-happy on that last mission. I don’t know why she keeps doing it when she knows this is the result,” Clint mumbled around the rim of his coffee cup, eyes still closed.

“If your screams could knock people out, you’d do it all the damn time. Missions or pranks.”

“True, but then I’d be too pleased with myself to mourn a sore throat.”

“I could call Parker. She wouldn’t hurt a minor, right?”

Steve frowned contemplatively, backing out of the room before anyone could drag him into the conversation. Still, chances of escaping Nat’s attention were slim to none, and she shot a wink at him over Tony’s shoulder. 

On his way to the elevator Steve checked his phone, but the last message he’d gotten from you was a “sweet dreams” four days ago. The time gap wasn’t a concern; you’d both been sent out on assignment. But you usually sent him the mute symbol emoji when you overworked your abilities, a subtle invitation that always brought him running walking at a reasonable pace to check on you. 

He always did his best to toe the line between friendship and concerned affection, and when the scheduling stars aligned you’d spend the whole day together, peacefully focusing on your own activities in comforting proximity. Sometimes you’d pass notes, and you’d elbow him reproachfully if he made you laugh. Steve had seven thoroughly ink-saturated pages folded up in the drawer of his bedside table. 

He’d never tried to address your sore throat or lost voice directly, knew you were deeply annoyed by the fact that your body hadn’t adapted to withstand the power it had. No one else’s attempts to bring you medicine had ended well, but Wanda’s tea offering had earned her a hug. Maybe there was something to that. 

If he was honest, Steve could really use a hug.

By the time he was knocking on your door with the warm mug in his hands, he was already second-guessing his decision. You still hadn’t messaged him. Maybe you didn’t want to see him. 

The door slid open before he could make his second strategic retreat of the day, and you greeted him with a curious smile. 

“Heard you saved everyone’s ass yesterday. Wanted to check on you.”

You mimed a haughty hair toss, smiling when Steve laughed. 

“So you’re fine then?”

You shrugged, eyes falling curiously to the cup in his hands. 

“Oh! Umm...  It’s a remedy I know. Helps with your throat. If you want.”

You took the mug tentatively and stepped to the side, nodding your head towards the inside of your apartment.

“I was just dropping it off! You don’t have to invite me in. I know you didn’t send the emoji thing.”

God, that sounded stupid coming out of his mouth. Judging by the little smirk curling your mouth, you agreed. With a sigh, you dug your phone out of your pocket and tapped at it for a few moments before replacing it. Steve’s phone gave a chime. 

“Well, fine. You don’t have to beg,” Steve joked weakly.

You rolled your eyes as he stepped past you, turning to follow him to the couch. He was pulling the notebook and pen from the end table drawer when you sat down. You claimed the pen, scrawling your first message while Steve balanced the pad of paper on his knee.

Dare I ask what’s in this? Because it looks like shoe polish.

“It’s molasses, butter, and hot water. My mom used to make it for me, but I’m not sure what the right ratio is. I did my best.” 

You eyed the dark liquid dubiously, the nervous look in Steve’s eyes doing nothing at all for your confidence. But the soft “I did my best” erased all possibility of you abstaining from quite possibly the least healthy home remedy you’d ever heard of.

With a deep breath, you went in for a sip. It wasn’t terrible, but your brain still registered it as something you probably shouldn’t be drinking. 

“You can tell me if it’s bad. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

You shook your head, offering him the cup and pointing at his lips. He took a cautious sip, his nose immediately scrunching in a way that elicited the closest thing to a laugh you could manage at the moment. The resulting burn had you knocking your shoulder against his in silent complaint. 

“Sorry.”

You leaned over to write again.

I think you flipped the water and molasses ratio, my friend. Any way I could convince you to pour this on a waffle?

You were joking, but Steve reached for his phone. Your curious expression dropped into one of fond exasperation as you watched him type “easy waffle recipe” into the search bar. 

I was kidding, Steve! 

He ignored you, scrolling thoughtfully through a list of recipes. Waving your hand in front of his face only made him smile, and trying to snatch his phone was equally ineffective. 

“Waffles would make you happy and give this cup of disaster a purpose. I want to try.”

You successfully stole his attention when you flung your arms around him in a tight hug. Steve was caught off-guard for a moment, his phone nearly slipping out of his hand before he set it down on the cushion and hugged you back. Unsatisfied with his barely-there touch, you squeezed him tighter, earning an exaggerated huff before he tightened his grip in return. 

He should have stayed quiet, enjoyed the moment, done literally anything but ask,

“Can I ask why didn’t you send the text? Before?”

You pulled back with a sigh, retrieving the paper which you’d accidentally knocked onto the floor. 

You just got back from a mission too. I wanted you to take care of yourself first and not worry about me. 

“I like worrying about you,” Steve argued.

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his shoulder again.

“I do. And spending time with you makes me feel better too.”

You eyed him carefully for a few minutes before holding up your pinky in question. 

“Yes, I promise,” he said with a fond smile.

After a few moments, you gave a contented nod and reached for his phone. And as the two of you reviewed waffle recipes online, leaning close with your head on his shoulder, Steve couldn’t help but feel that the rest of the team was really missing out on something. But that was fine with him. He didn’t feel much like sharing anyway. 

[itsclydebitches]

YYH Recaps: Koenma Appears

Welcome to episode two, everyone! Before we get to the recap proper, I want to continue down Nostalgia Lane for a moment. Remember how last time I mentioned a Hiei bookmark I used daily back in middle school? Well, I tore through an old "treasure box" I created as a kid (a collection containing everything from a shark tooth to a small book on witchcraft. You know, the important things every child needs) hoping to find it... but I didn't. It's a hard life we lead.

However, I did find some other YYH relics that I thought you all might enjoy seeing. Behold — and, if you'd like, laugh at — my collection:

First up is a picture of young Toguro and Genkai that I wanted to use as my bookmark, but found that it was too wide. For the record, I didn't (and still don't) care about Toguro much, he was just the byproduct of finding a cool Genkai picture. Not shown is the back of the image with the names of my classmates because I made them all sign this along with our yearbook.

God bless my friends for putting up with me.

Second is a collection of very pretty trading cards that I ordered from god only knows where. I have vague memories of not finding any at my local comics shop and convincing my mom to let me order on The Olde Internet. Did I want the trading cards to trade them? Absolutely not. They exist to sparkle and make my heart happy.

Finally, I've saved what is perhaps the best for last. Now, you have to understand that grade to middle school age Clyde did not have the education that she would receive later on, which includes a knowledge of the ephemeral nature of fanworks and the importance of accurate record keeping. What this means is that I have absolutely no context for this. No author, no explanation... just the image itself.

Was this a standalone fanart? A part of a fic? Some specific request or just the will of the artist? I cannot answer these questions. I tried a reverse image search (which is, admittedly, the extent of my tech skills) and you know what the single hit I got was? "Fiction." Thanks, google. So yeah, I can only assume that my child self considered Kurama giving a de-aged Hiei a bubble bath adorable enough to save, but the artist wasn't important enough to jot down for future viewing. Sorry about that, mystery artist. And, as should go without saying, if anyone does know where this came from please let me know! Though I suspect that this is a case of a YYH-specific site closing down and the fanworks getting lost along with it. That happened a great deal before the age of AO3 when volunteers decided to put their time and talent towards saving fanworks of all sorts... 

But enough of all that. Let's get to recapping!

As we established last episode, Yusuke and Botan are on their way to the spirit world to kickstart Yusuke's ordeal. Watching this after over a decade of consuming other media, I really appreciate that Yusuke acts like a human person and asks lots of questions about this. When Botan is cryptic for the sake of the audience — we're going to see "the person" who can explain everything — Yusuke is justifiably like, and what person would that be?? I mean, this is also a way to establish basic facts for the viewer and it simultaneously feeds into Yusuke being someone who is difficult for the sake of being difficult — "If someone wants to say something, they should come to me!" — but it's just nice to see a character who doesn't accept cryptic BS because the story needs them to. If Botan gives an unclear, but ~dramatic~ explanation, Yusuke is going to call her out on that.

So she explains that they're going to see King Yama and Yusuke is all whoa whoa whoa, there's royalty involved? Suddenly, he's not so adamant that they come to him. 

Botan tries to reinforce this rare spark of humility and demands that Yusuke be on his best behavior from here on out.

Pff. Yeah right.

But “he can send you to oblivion forever if he wants to!” is a suitable enough threat to cow Yusuke for now. Which is interesting considering that a few hours ago he was happy to accept hell as his rightful ending. Granted, we could argue that there's a big difference between hell and oblivion — a character may not be afraid of punishment in the same way they are a lack of existence — but I'd say this ties more into Yusuke's development at the wake. Now that he's accepted that people care for him and that he should strive to return to them, the threat of having it snatched away actually means something. Even if that line is otherwise positioned as a comedic moment.

Botan flies them through a portal where we see the River Styx below and Yusuke comments on how big everything is. At first I was like, "What are you talking about? You were just flying over some major city in fictional Japan, wasn't that big too?" but this line makes more sense when they reach the palace and you realize that yeah, it's big. As in, the camera blurs while tilting down its length to show how insanely tall it is. Yusuke and Botan are tiny gnats at the gate's entrance.

"Oh man, what a pad!" Yusuke says and sure, that's one way to look at it lol.

Botan announces that she has a "new arrival" and the gates open for them, but so far there's no one else around. One part of me wants to question the time and budget put into this scene because shouldn't there be, like, thousands of people? Even just waiting outside? The idea that this is the hub of the underworld and that Botan is responsible for ferrying all the souls, yet she is guiding just this one (1) dude for a solid day is, from a world building perspective, kind of nuts. But beyond the need to develop Botan as a character (she can't be a part of the story if her job is treated realistically, with all the endless work that entails), I think this choice functions rather well from an atmospheric perspective too. Meaning, this moment is supposed to be rather tense for Yusuke. He just died, just found out the afterlife exists, just discovered a desire to get his life back, and is now about to meet a King who can toss him into oblivion if he's rude — which Yusuke always is. So this is a Very Dangerous Moment and their relative isolation feeds into that. As does the setting. Yusuke flinches back from the hallway, saying that it looks like a giant throat, so he is now literally walking into the belly of the beast. 

Suddenly, the size of the palace isn't an indicator of awesome wealth, just general intimidation. Also, check out the spikey purple mountains in the background and the harsh reds of the scene, especially compared to the soft yellow of the river. All of it is designed to create an, "Oh shit" reaction in both Yusuke and the audience.

Yusuke's image of King Yama matches these surroundings:

Oh wait! Wrong character ;)

He's massive, red, shadowed, and poses a formidable threat. And how does Yusuke deal with threats? By fighting them! Even those he can't hope to beat. Remember, this isn't a situation where Yusuke has any power here, but he still desperately holds onto the possibility that he might. What if he gets off a punch on King Yama's nose? Then goes for his eyes? Yeah, that'll work! 

Overlooking the fact that it absolutely would not — Yusuke's fantasy conveniently skips how he escapes Yama's clutches — what exactly is Yusuke hoping to accomplish here? Somehow take over the entire underworld? Escape as a ghost and live out his afterlife in hiding? We don't know and that's because Yusuke doesn't know. He doesn't think ahead, he just obeys this instinct to fight. An instinct that, crucially, overrides everything else. Botan has already told him that all Yusuke needs to do is be polite and everything will be fine, but it's not even that Yusuke believes that he can't achieve that; that he knows himself too well and, fearing a slip, starts planning for a potentially inevitable confrontation. There are simply no plans outside of battle plans. Yusuke just hears about someone vaguely intimidating and his brain jumps straight to, "How do I beat him in a fight?" no matter the odds, or that other options are readily available to him. Again, much of YYH's characterization occurs though its comedy, so outside of the general humor of witnessing this fantasy, it actually does a stellar job of reinforcing precisely who Yusuke is. In life the only thing he had going for him was his ability to fight. It was his one joy, his one skill, arguably the one good thing he did if we frame those reflexes as "saving" the kid... so is it any wonder that fighting dominates his every thought? It's all he knows.

And, as we'll see down the line, that single-minded obsession is very useful to the spirit world.

For now though, Yusuke finishes his absurd plans to take down King Yama and Botan asks what in the world he's muttering about back there. Which is an unintentionally hilarious line because by the end Yusuke is not muttering, but full on shouting. Botan. How did you not hear him?

Not important. They reach the next door and we get our first inkling that all is not as Yusuke (and we) expect when Botan leans into an intercom to say that they've arrived. Tech in a fantasy spirit world? This feels not only out of place, but rather... mundane? That's the point. When the doors open Yusuke expects his super scary monster, but gets... a whole lot of monsters that aren't scary at all!

The underworld is run by various demons (or ogres), though their looks are contrasted with the harried office worker personalities they've got going on. Someone is running by with a comically tall stack of papers. Someone else is shouting into a cell phone. The first two demons we see cross paths, looking like they're about to punch one another, just as Yusuke expects... except they're just dramatically getting out of the other's way, worried not about the hierarchy of this realm, but the fact that someone is behind schedule. The nerve!

"This place is a madhouse!" we hear somehow shout and yeah, that's the joke. The afterlife is just as chaotic, overworked, and — ultimately — boring as any human office. For all the strangeness of seeing hundreds of demons, this is familiar.

Which, alongside Botan's bubbly nature contrasting assumptions about the Grim Reaper, is one of the first instances of YYH undercutting the viewer's expectations in terms of looks. No one entirely looks the part they play in this tale and if you're trying to teach people to look past surface characteristics... there are worse ways to do it. Horrifying creatures with horns and sharp teeth? Nah, they're just chill dudes trying to do their job. Cutesy girl who looks like she belongs in a mall reading magazines? Nah, she's the Grim Reaper. Terrifying delinquent with a spine-chilling reputation? Nah, he makes faces at kids and saves them from cars.

Of course, the "nah" isn't accurate either. These are monsters with horns, Botan is a cutesy girl, and Yusuke is a delinquent with that reputation. The message isn't so much that people look like Thing A, but get to know them and you'll discover they're actually Thing B, it's the idea that you can be A and B (and C, D, E...) simultaneously. People — or rather, seemingly simple archetypes — can, in fact, embody multiple characteristics at once.

We'll get our third example in just a second.

Yusuke makes a comment about this being the "dead people stock exchange" — accurate — and Botan leads him to a more ornate door past all the desks. It's clear they've arrived at King Yama's office, since she's bowing and formally presenting him to... someone. Yusuke looks around for the giant beast he's imagined, only for a tiny voice to hail him from the ground.

Looks are deceiving!

“This is Yusuke Urameshi and he’s honored to meet you." Botan knows what's up. She knows Yusuke isn't going to express anything of the sort without some prompting. Too bad he's busy cracking up at this apparent child running the show. Side note: Yusuke has a fantastic laugh.

He even goes so far as to accuse Botan of lying to him.

“Why would I lie about such a thing?!”

“Why would the spirit world be run by a toddler?”

It's true! That’s a legitimate question! I love that Yusuke asks questions. The "toddler" goes on to explain that he's actually the "mighty Koenma," son of King Yama, though he's lived fifty times as long as Yusuke, "so watch your mouth." Assuming Koenma knows and/or remembers how old Yusuke is — fourteen — and is good at math, that puts him at seven hundred years old. He looks good for his age!

"And in addition to knowing the secrets of the universe," he says, "I am quite potty trained."

You've gotta love Koenma.

Yusuke's attitude changes drastically once they get down to business. Koenma produces an egg, saying that Yusuke's ordeal is to hatch it and face what comes out. The hatching part isn't difficult, all he needs to do is keep it on his person. The challenge is in the fact that this egg will feed off his spirit energy and that energy in turn will change what kind of creature develops. If his spirit is wicked and cruel, so will be the beast and it will devour Yusuke upon hatching.

However, if his spirit is good and kind, the beast will become a sort of guardian, guiding him back to his living body.

Note though that throughout this conversation the egg is always a "beast." It's a "monster." It's not necessarily intentional, but there's a strong bend towards the negative here in the description that really emphasizes the whole "ordeal" aspect. Koenma briefly reassures Yusuke that he can remain a ghost if he prefers, but he's already made up his mind. Despite another threat of being lost to a void — this time through spiritual digestion — Yusuke takes the egg almost without hesitation.

He regrets it later though.

"I can't believe I did that."

Can we blame him? I'd be nervous about some egg feeding off the energy of my soul too and I'm a former, almost straight A student (damn you, math) with no life-altering regrets and a general desire to put as much good into this world as I'm able. I’m boring. But what if those occasional, mean little thoughts you have add up? What if the prejudices you're still unlearning stack against you? Does the egg care about what you do, or only how you feel about the act? This sort of test would eat me alive!

Maybe literally. 

Good thing Yusuke doesn't have time for an existential crisis!

Just as he's beginning to regret this decision, Botan points out that it won't matter if he passes if he doesn't have a body to return to. Now, why wouldn't he have a body? Maybe because his mom is set to cremate him tomorrow.

Whoopsie.

Yusuke is, understandably, distraught. We get another excellent exchange:

“Botan, is there any way for ghosts to communicate with living people?”

“Yes.”

“SO ARE YOU GONNA TELL ME?”

I swear, Yusuke is the only smart protagonist. I mean, he's dumb as a sack of bricks at times, but that's neither here nor there. Bless this fictional boy for reacting like an actual person. 

Botan explains that people are more attuned to the spirit world when they're asleep, so Yusuke can deliver a message to someone in their dreams. Seems easy enough. They first head to Atsuko, but find that she's raging drunk and nowhere near sleep. 

"You fool!" she yells. "No one gave you permission to die!" Atsuko continues to yell about how plenty of people survive car accidents, so why couldn't you? "Were you mad at me, Yusuke? Didn't I raise you right?"

Botan comments on how sad the display is. Yusuke's response?

“The only thing that’s sad is now she’s got one more excuse to act that way."

Y'all, that's some mature shit for a goofy shonen anime. Yeah, Yusuke recognizes that, while she's obviously heartbroken, his death has just given her another reason to do what she's been doing for years: drinking herself into a stupor. Toss in Atsuko putting the blame on Yusuke — "No one gave you permission to die!" — plus the belief that she did do a good job — "Didn't I raise you right?" — and it paints a rather bleak picture. This is by no means an uncommon theme. Negligent parents, whether they're framed that way or not, are pretty common in shonen series, but it's still rather jarring to re-watch this as an adult and go, "Oh. The situation’s like that." It's honestly a lot when you remove it from YYH's otherwise humorous, casual context.

Yusuke heads to Keiko's next and finds her sound asleep, commenting on how her room looks more "girly" than when they were kids. Check out that smile!

He's about to try and deliver his message, but Keiko is in the midst of a nightmare. “She’s crying… what’s wrong?”

Oh my god. Remember how I just said Yusuke is also the densest protagonist around? Example A right here. You just died, you fool! You just saw Keiko collapse at your funeral. What do you think is wrong??

We get a peek at Keiko's dream where she is — shockingly! — thinking of Yusuke. He's far out of reach, walking away and unresponsive to her calls. Keiko soon trips and Yusuke disappears completely.

Luckily, she has the real thing at her bedside. Yusuke tries talking to her and at first it's unclear if this supernatural stuff is really working. That is, until Keiko murmurs about how heavy he is.

Reassured, Yusuke delivers his message that Keiko needs to help Atsuko pull herself together and, most importantly, call off burning his body. We get this very soft and pretty background to establish their yet unspoken feelings for one another, though Yusuke gets close with, “I’m coming back. I don’t want to see you cry anymore" as he brushes her tears away. Aww.

Keiko wakes, thinking at first it was just a dream, but no, "I'm sure I felt it."

The next morning she heads to Atsuko's to explain the dream, only to first hear that Atsuko had a dream too, this one about Yusuke "living in some other world full of ogres and he kept knocking them down until he became their leader." It sounds absurd, of course, but it brings Atsuko some comfort to think of her boy in a place like that and Keiko backs down. Right, she'd only had a comforting dream too.

Now, there are two important parts to this exchange. The first is that this is an excellent example of how you let the characters drive the story, rather than forcing the characters adhere to the plot you've come up with. Meaning, in the latter situation, our cast would have needed to have their personalities twisted and the viewer's suspicion of disbelief tested to give Yusuke what he needs: a sleeping family member willing to believe his message. But it absolutely makes sense for Atsuko to be drunk rather than sound asleep, so Yusuke can't rely on her. Likewise, it absolutely makes sense for Keiko to be asleep, but not believe the dream once she's woken up. After all, how many times have we been persuaded by something in the dead of night only for things to look more logical and less likely in the morning? The characters act both like themselves and like people who do normal, people-ish things, which means that Yusuke runs into more conflicts. That's good! It not only raises the tension and stakes — now he has less than a day to convince someone — but makes his inevitable success feel that much sweeter. A less well written show (cough-RWBY-cough) would have had the characters change their personalities, behave in unlikely ways, or just come up with a sudden, contradictory solution because Yusuke needs to keep his body. Instead, Yusuke actually has to work for that within the bounds of the rules established and the likeliness of each plan succeeding. The first one fails? Move onto plan #2.

Second, this dream of Atsuko's has some cool implications within YYH's world. Meaning, we're about to learn in just a moment that some people are naturally more aware of the supernatural than others, even when they're not asleep. We'll also see down the line that spiritual awareness tends to run in families... so perhaps Atsuko possesses more than the average mother? I'm not saying it's necessarily intentional on the author(s) part, but we can choose to read this dream as evidence of spiritual awareness — true insight into the world Yusuke was just in and the fantasies he'd had about conquering it — rather than just a coincidental joke for the viewer. After all, Yusuke gets his own spiritual awareness from somewhere...

(Okay, so there's totally another, canonical reason for that, but we can have both!)

So, as Yusuke puts it, “This dream business isn’t gonna cut it.”

“There’s always the final method," Botan says.

“You always this vague?”

I am literally living for these interactions.

Botan explains that the more extreme form of communication is possessing a living person, but there are two rules attached: it has to be someone you know and the vessel has to be someone who is quite spiritually aware, as discussed above. Atsuko isn't a contender because the story hasn't acknowledged that she might be sensitive, that's just my own headcanon now. Yusuke outright says, “In that case I’m screwed. There’s no one like that!"

Cut to good old Kuwabara.

At first it looks as if he's just oh so conveniently sensing a spirit right when the audience has learned he has this power, but in reality it's Yusuke and Botan flying behind him that sets it off. Again: this show is pretty good about keeping things internally consistent, rather than making choices because That's Just How Stories Work, I Guess. Kuwabara's friends note that he's acting strangely and I love this detail that apparently one of the guys is new to their group because the other two need to explain that this is the "tickle feeling." Ever since Kuwabara was a boy he's been able to sense the dead around him. Some nice, some... not so nice.

He looks directly at Yusuke — even though he's not able to see him — and declares that what's following them is “A puny low-level ghost, like a haunted racoon or something.”

I'd support Yusuke's anger more if he hadn't just exclaimed his surprise that Kuwabara serves a purpose 😂

Yusuke is pissed enough though to proclaim that he won't do it, nuh-uh, no way is he possessing this guy's body. Botan's response is one of my FAVORITES in the WHOLE SERIES:

"Here's my impression of Yusuke: look at me, I’m burning!”

Literally 75% of this series is just about a found family sassing one another and I love it.

Obviously this helps Yusuke remember his priorities and he grudgingly agrees to the plan. Botan prepares Kuwabara's body somehow — idk, spiritual magic or whatever — and warns Yusuke that he only has an hour to find someone and warn them because a human body can't handle possession any longer than that. Sure. I buy it.

So Yusuke takes control and please ignore the incredible ethical issues here. The show will never acknowledge them again. 

He blurts out, “Hey, check it out! I’m inside Kuwabara, feeling smooth!"

Istg I don't remember the series being this unintentionally gay. I don't even ship Yusuke/Kuwabara and I'm digging the possibilities here lol.

Back on track, his friends drag him with, “Looks like he’s back to normal” because again, 75%. What's not normal though is Kuwabara (Yusuke) suddenly charging down the street to leave them behind. He heads straight to the restaurant where Keiko's parents work, demanding to see her. They're rightly concerned about this stranger barging in and screaming for their daughter.

Upon asking who he is/why they should tell him, Yusuke makes his biggest mistake: “Because it’s me, you guys, I’m Yusuke!”

Obviously the time limit and raw emotion of knowing who he is has outweighed the knowledge that, you know, no one would believe that. Yusuke has spent the last two days bopping around as a ghost and familiarizing himself with some of the afterlife's insanity. The knowledge of what's normal for everyone else — AKA, not dead boys appearing in strangers' bodies — is not at the forefront of Yusuke's mind.

So, Keiko's parents react accordingly! The father in particular is disgusted by this claim, going so far as to threaten Yusuke with his knife and outright insult Kuwabara's looks: “Yusuke was never ugly like you… we were close family friends with that boy!" His wife chimes in that this kind of joke is particularly heinous on the day of his funeral. Between Atsuko drunkenly blaming Yusuke for his death and Mr. Takenaka grieving for what he might have been, this is one of the few times we see someone just sad for Yusuke's passing, exactly as he was and without regrets or criticism. "We were close family friends with that boy" paints a nice contrast to the delinquent persona Yusuke was cultivating.

As he's thrown out of the restaurant he says, “We should have special passwords for times like this!” Fun fact, my family does! Well, not this exact situation lol. I was given a password as a child to memorize in case my parents ever needed to send someone else to pick me up or interact with me in any way. If the stranger didn't know the password, I was to kick up a fuss. I rest easy with the knowledge that this password would not doubt assist me if I was ever in Yusuke's position!

With Keiko's parents a bust, Yusuke starts sprinting to everywhere she frequents with the hope of running into her. Or at least he tries. 

Yusuke is suddenly waylaid by a group of nameless teens with a bone to pick with Kuwabara. And you know what? I like it. I wonder how much of my praise stems from coming off of RWBY Volume 8, but it's just so nice to watch a story where the plot — simple as it is — hangs together. We've established that Kuwabara is a street fighter. Last episode we watched him start a fight with Yusuke. Yusuke is on a time limit. Now Kuwabara's tendencies have created a new hurdle for Yusuke!

Needless to say, Yusuke kicks butt, even in Kuwabara’s body. 

As one guy is passing out he says, “Man that hurt! I didn’t think anyone could throw punches that hardcore except Yusuke Urameshi."

Yusuke: “Darn, giving Kuwabara a good name." LOL

You think this challenge is finished though? Nah. Over the course of about half an hour Yusuke encounters a comical number of people trying to get even with Kuwabara. 

As always, I like the nods towards this writing decision to help justify it, with Yusuke wondering how Kuwabara has pissed this many people off. If you want to pull off something that has a low chance of happening, it can help to give the characters a "Seriously?" moment. If both they and the audience are on the same page over how ridiculous this situation is, the audience is more likely to accept it once the character does.

By the time Yusuke escapes his hour is nearly up. However, thanks to some coincidental plotting, he spots Keiko's friends just across the street! 

YYH does a decent job of making its characters feel like they have their own lives outside of what's immediately happening on screen and we get a good example of that here. We pick up the girls' conversation partway through, both of them worried about Keiko's state of mind and, given that we'll see in a second that Keiko was in the store with them, it implies that something happened to reignite this worry. They're off enjoying their day, doing their own thing, there was an event we're not privy to, and now we catch the response to that. It just helps make the characters feel more well-rounded even though they are, at their core, one-dimensional background characters who don’t even have names yet.

Case in point: the one girl is still concerned with their image. "People are starting to say things!"

Yeah, your friend's childhood friend just died. Hopefully they're saying, "Poor thing."

Anyway, Yusuke runs up to ask where Keiko is only for both girls to run away screaming. Turns out his face is messed up from the numerous fights and Keiko's friends are easily scared. 

Luckily, Keiko comes out just a second later and Yusuke is faced with the challenge of how to convince her in, oh, about five minutes. Remember, we've already established through Keiko's parents that just saying, "I'm Yusuke" doesn't work. That's why he hesitates. It's not just drama for the sake of drama, he's stuck.

“I’ve known her my whole life, there must be something between us that only I would do!”

Yeeeeaah. About that 😬

Suddenly inspired (I suppose that's one way to put it...) Yusuke runs up behind Keiko and grabs her breasts. “Keiko, nice uniform! They’re so squishy!”

It goes without saying that, like flipping her skirt up, this isn't okay. More specifically, the problem lies in the story framing this as a joke for the audience, something to laugh at despite Keiko's discomfort, rather than the concept of two childhood friends actually be that comfortable with one another. But, as already established, this is one of the more ehhhh aspects of Yusuke's characterization that, luckily, will mostly disappear as the story goes on.

Note though that the show clearly wants us to think highly of this. Not just as a "joke," but as a smart solution to his problem and more evidence of their inevitable relationship — the background becomes the same soft, bubbly background we saw during their dream conversation. And, admittedly, it does work. Keiko instinctively slaps Yusuke hard enough to knock him to the ground and he starts laughing, saying that he doesn't care what anyone on the street says, she hits the hardest.

What I do like about this is that the assault isn't the only thing Keiko bases her faith on. Not only has she already had the dream, we get to see Yusuke from her perspective, showing all the mannerisms she picks up on by superimposing Yusuke's real body over Kuwabara's. Indeed, she says as much: “I knew it was you from the first time you spoke…and it’s not just your stupid gags, or how you laugh. There are ways you move and speak that in a hundred years I wouldn’t forget."

Catch me crying in this club!

Knowing she believes him and that he's almost out of time, Yusuke reiterates his message: please don't burn my body and also keep Mom on track. Only, you know, it's phrased far better than that lol. As he speaks, both Yusuke's and Kuwabara's voices overlap until the latter grows fainter and only Yusuke's voice remains. His body too. It's a nice touch, avoiding the awkwardness of Keiko having this moment with a stranger, even if that is what's happening on some level.

“I know I’ve been a bum to you at times, but please wait for me."

His hour up, now we can get the awkwardness! Kuwabara comes out of his weird trance thing to find Keiko crying against his chest. Wow, he thinks, this girl must be really into me! 

God, to have the confidence of Kuwabara.

Of course, Keiko quickly realizes it's not Yusuke anymore and slaps him too for cuddling her closer. My favorite thing is that when she does this a crowd INSTANTLY appears. I mean they TELEPORT in. We needed an audience for Kuwabara's shame and YYH delivered, all logic be damned.

“Um, sorry about that!” Keiko yells as she runs away, because she's a good person who recognizes that weird spirit things just went on and Kuwabara isn't actually to blame.

“No, that’s okay. I probably deserved it," Kuwabara responds because he's also a good person and I didn't appreciate him nearly as much as I should have as a kid.

Keiko runs all the way to Atsuko's place where she finds her dressed for Yusuke's funeral. She blurts that Yusuke might still be coming back and Atsuko goes, "He already has." Turns out she opened his coffin to "smack him one more time for leaving me" — yikes — and found that his heart had started beating again, just as Koenma said it would. 

Being in a shonen anime, they apparently decide to just trust Keiko's message rather than, idk, taking him to a hospital or something.

The camera tilts up to show that Yusuke has been watching all this, including that both women break down again and comfort one another. Aww. How heartwarming.

What's less fuzzy though is this mysterious egg. Yusuke takes another look and finds that it has developed a heartbeat too, presumably in time with his body's. He theorizes that he did decent things today, right? But Botan (teasingly) points out that he did beat up a lot of other kids. Rather than getting angry, Yusuke remains uncharacteristically pensive, emphasizing the magnitude of what this means for him. He's got to get it right.

No pressure or anything! We'll have to see how Yusuke balances his karmic scales in the next episode. Until then, I'll try not to put all my TV time into Star Trek: Voyager :D 

See you then!  💜

[wellimaginethat]

Runaway Love

Pairing: Jay Halstead x (female) Voight!Reader

Word Count: 3340

Author’s Note: Um...I’m not entirely sure what this is, but I know it’s not the best and the storyline is weird as hell. This is also definitely AU because I haven’t seen all of Chicago PD and I’m just going with what I know, so I might’ve messed up on some of it (sorry). Also, could I pick a more cliche title? Lol

Trigger Warning(s): Mention of sexual assault (but it doesn’t go into detail), stalking, running away, underage drinking, alcohol, mention of drugs, mention of prostitution (literally just the mention of it because of a case)

Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters

Summary: Reader ran away when she was seventeen. On her eighteenth birthday, she met Jay Halstead, who was just getting ready to leave for the Army. After a whirlwind romance before he deployed out, and after constantly sending letter back and forth, and him visiting her when he could, he asked her to move to Chicago with him after he was discharged. Only for her to turn him down, leaving him heartbroken and confused.

Y/N = Your Name

Y/EC = Your Eye Color

Y/HC = Your Hair Color

It seemed like it was a fairly average case. They were trying to track down an all around bad guy, he was involved in a drug ring, a prostitution ring, and had killed at least three people.

They caught him and were taking him in when Voight’s eyes landed on a bunch of photos scattered on the coffee table, narrowing in on one in particular. He walked over and picked it up, frowning at it before turning and storming out to the guy and grabbing him by the arm, pulling him away from the officers that were leading him out to the car.

“Why do you have this?” Voight asked as he held up the photo.

The man barely even spared a glance at the photo, scoffing.

“Why do you have this?” Voight asked more insistently, this time grabbing the man and shaking him roughly, shoving the photo into his face.

The man didn’t seem to be bothered much. “I don’t know, she was just another girl that my boss wanted us to snatch.”

This affected Voight, leaving him visibly distraught.

The officers led the man away.

Jay stepped over to Voight, frowning some as he took a look at the picture, which caused a noticeable reaction.

Voight looked at him and frowned. “What?”

“I know her.” Jay breathed out with a frown.

Voight matched his expression. “How?”

“I met her in Florida, before I deployed out, at a bar near the base.” Jay explained, looking at Voight then.

“When?”

“Right before I deployed out, a few years ago.” Jay frowned deeper.

“This girl has been missing for nearly eight years, and she’s my daughter.” Voight told him.

The rest was sort of a blur for the both of them, and when Jay got back to his apartment, he dug out the last letter he received from her, informing him that she couldn’t leave her life in Florida to join him in Chicago, and started to wonder if maybe the reason she couldn’t was because she was running from something. Then he started digging through the other letters that she had written to him that he still had after all this time. He pulled out one that had a phone number, it was when she had changed her number and sent it to him so that he could call her whenever he could while he was away, which wasn’t very often but still.

He then pulled out his phone, not even considering for a second that it might be a bad idea to reach out to you, and dialed the number.

Three rings.

“Hello?” You answered the phone, a confusion in your voice like you couldn’t understand why anyone was calling you.

Jay was shocked that you answered, and hearing your voice after all this time knocked the breath out of him.

“Hell-o?” You tried again, dragging it out this time.

“Y/N?” Jay breathed out, struggling to remember how to breathe.

There was silence on your end and he was terrified that you’d hung up. “Jay?” You sounded shocked, but pleasantly shocked. “What’s going on?” You asked softly, trying to figure out why he was calling you.

“I…” He didn’t know what to say. “I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Is everything okay?” You asked, the worry evident in your voice.

“Yes and no.” Jay admitted, leaving you worried.

“What do you mean?”

“I just...I miss you.” Jay told you honestly.

Silence on your end again, but he heard your breath hitch. “I miss you too.” You whispered into the phone.

He was left not knowing what to say again. “I still love you.” He figured you’d hang up at that.

“I still love you too.” You admitted honestly, quietly. “That’s not why I ended things.”

“Then why did you?” He honestly wanted an answer, to hear it from you.

“It’s just...complicated.”

“Is it because you ran away?” He asked abruptly.

You faltered. “Wh-what?” Your mind started reeling, you knew he was in Chicago but that was the last thing you heard. Did he somehow find out about you from a missing person’s poster or something?

“I’m a cop now, Y/N.” Jay told her, like that explained everything.

“I’m confused.” You told him, which wasn’t a lie.

“Don’t play games with me.”

“I’m not.” You answered him with a frown.

“Why did you leave town?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time.” Jay answered quickly.

“Well I don’t.” You hung up on him then, starting to think about what you were going to do. If Jay knew who you really were, and where you were living, then he could get a hold of your dad and tell him, and you knew how that would end.

That didn’t stop you from flinging yourself onto your bed and thinking it through as you laid there. If you did go back to Chicago, you’d be with your family again. Maybe you could finally have a normal life. Maybe even fix things with Jay, he did say he still loved you.

~Flashback ~ You left home two months after you turned seventeen because of reasons you’d rather not discuss. You couldn’t believe you had actually gotten away with it, you were certain that your dad would at least be able to tell what you had planned, he was a cop after all. Or maybe that your mom would have noticed that you hugged her a little longer than normal. Or that maybe Justin would’ve asked why you called him that night and talked for what seemed like forever, like you would never talk to him again. Or even Erin, you stopped by her house before you left Chicago and gave her like three hugs before you left.

It didn’t seem right. Maybe it was because you were always the good girl, maybe that’s why they didn’t notice, because they didn’t expect it.

The more you thought about it, the more your heart broke. You didn’t want to leave your family behind. 

They should have noticed something was up. They should have noticed something wasn’t right with you. They should have noticed.

You had to pull over after driving for an hour because you were crying way too hard. You weren’t even out of Illinois yet, barely even out of Chicago, if you looked in the rearview you probably could’ve still seen the outline of the city.

You didn’t know what you were going to do with your life at this point, but you knew you had to get the hell out of Chicago.

You slept in the backseat of your car at rest stops for about two weeks before you eventually stopped in Florida. Within three months you were able to get a job as an exotic dancer and get yourself an apartment. You avoided getting caught because the owner of the club you worked at was kind of a shady guy, who didn’t care if you were under eighteen or needed to be paid under the table. You liked him because he didn’t ask questions, you didn’t trust him however because, again, he was a shady guy.

By the time you were eighteen, you were doing pretty well for yourself. You made good money, but you still stayed in a cheaper apartment because you didn’t want to risk getting caught and the landlord at your current building didn’t really care about background checks or making sure the name on the lease was your real name.

You celebrated your eighteenth birthday in a dive bar. It wasn’t a horrible place, but it wasn’t the kind of place your parents would want to find you in. And that’s when he walked in with a few other guys. They were Army, you could tell that, but they were newbies. They had to be, they were too fresh faced to have seen combat.

The three of them took a seat at the bar, about six stools away from you and that was when he noticed you watching him and made eye contact with you. You offered him a smirk before turning back to your drink and next thing you knew, he was beside you.

“This seat taken?” He asked

You looked at him, smiled, and shook your head. “Nope.” You replied, popping the ‘p’ for effect.

He slid onto the stool and leaned on the bar before turning to face you. “Jay Halstead.” He offered out his hand, which you shook.

“Y/N Samuels.” You told him, using the name on the fake ID you had that said you were 21.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” Jay commented with a smile. “So what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”

You laughed out loud. “Oh my god, is that what you’re really going with?” You asked, unable to contain the smile on your face. “Does that ever actually work as a line?”

He shrugged a bit before dazzling you with a wide smile. “I don’t know, did it work this time?”

You laughed softly this time and shook your head.

“You’re not charmed?” He asked you, teasingly.

“Not even a little bit.” You laughed.

He shrugged a bit, but his smile didn’t fade. “I am serious though, you don’t seem like the kind of girl who belongs in a bar like this.”

You gave him a half hearted shrug. “And what kind of girl do I seem like to you?” You raised a brow and smirked.

“A nice girl.” He replied honestly, the smile dropping some, being replaced with a seriousness.

You laughed but it was obviously fake. “Well you suck at reading people.”

“Do I?” He asked you, raising a brow himself.

Whatever quip you had died on your tongue and you shrugged, turning back to your drink and remaining silent.

He nudged your arm a bit. “I didn’t mean that as a bad thing.”

You shrugged again, stirring your drink with your straw. “So Army huh?”

“Is it that obvious?” He asked you, smirking, thankful the playfulness seemed to be coming back to the conversation.

You side eyed him, looking at what he was wearing. “Just a little bit.” You laughed softly.

He chuckled and ordered a beer when the bartender came over. “You want another drink?” He asked you.

You shook your head. “Nah, I’m a bit of a lightweight so I think I’m gonna stick to one tonight.”

He nodded. “So you came to a bar just to have one drink?” He asked curiously.

You smiled at him. “Well, you see, it’s my birthday and I don’t have anyone to celebrate with, and this place isn’t too far from my apartment.”

“It’s your birthday? Then we gotta celebrate.” He told you with a grin.

You watched him for a moment, slowly shaking your head. “I don’t know...I have to work tomorrow.”

“What time do you work?” He asked you.

“I have to be there at four.”

“In the morning?”

“No, afternoon.”

“Then you’ve got plenty of time to get rest.” He replied with a smile. “Come on, party with us until midnight and then you can be like Cinderella.”

You laughed. “I don’t know…”

“Okay, then how about you take it one drink at a time and leave when you want? I just think you should have a little fun on your birthday.”

You had to admit that it would be nice to have some fun, you had been kinda down before, missing your family and everything. So you nodded. “Okay, fine. Midnight and not a second later.”

Well midnight came and went and you were still partying with Jay, his buddies left sometime during this but you and Jay shut down the bar.

The next morning you woke with a pounding in your head, but it wasn’t as bad as what you’d thought a hangover would be like. You sat up and the world felt like it was spinning, and that was when you noticed that Jay was laying shirtless beside you.

“Son of a bitch.” You groaned out under your breath. Not only did you party with a complete stranger, but you brought him home and slept with him. What the hell happened.

Your movement caused him to stir and he opened his eyes, looking up at you, squinting because of the light coming in your bedroom window. “Good morning beautiful.” He murmured sleepily.

You huffed a bit. “Yeah, morning.” You grumbled as you looked away from him, you sincerely hoped that in your drunkenness you remembered to use protection.

He cleared his throat as he sat up, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Something wrong?”

You huffed again and rolled your eyes. “Is something wrong? Yes something’s wrong, I got drunk and slept with a total stranger.”

He pulled his hand off your shoulder at your tone and held both up, eyebrows raised. “Woah, we didn’t have sex.” He was quick to tell you. “Yeah I slept here last night but that’s as far as it went.”

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Really?”

“Well we did make out, but we didn’t have sex.” He added, nodding.

You sighed in relief. “Thank god.” You breathed out, then shook your head some. “Not that you’re not attractive and all, I just really don’t wanna have a one night stand with a stranger, is all.”

He nodded. “I can understand that.” He nudged you a bit. “You said you work at four, right?”

“Yeah, why?” You asked, raising a brow.

“Well it’s almost noon now, meaning you got time before you have to go to work, what do I gotta say to convince you to spend it with me?” Jay asked you with an adorable smile.

You laughed softly. “Why do you wanna spend time with me?”

“Well you’re pretty and you seem like a nice girl, pretty sure I said that last night.”

You pondered it over for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great, I got a change of clothes in the car, after I change we’ll go get lunch.” He got up and headed out of your room.

You got up too and went over to your closet to dig something out to wear, wondering if he was actually coming back or if that was just an excuse to get out of there without it being awkward.

A moment later there was a knock on your door, so you walked out of your bedroom to answer it.

“Didn’t wanna just walk in.” Jay told you, standing there holding what appeared to be a pair or jeans and a t-shirt.

You stepped out of the way to let him in.

“Bathroom?”

You pointed to the bathroom door and watched as he headed in that direction, you then headed to the kitchen to get something to drink.

You ended up spending the day with him up until right before you had to go to work, almost being late to work in fact. You got lunch together, then ice cream, and just hung out all day. It ended with him dropping you off at your apartment so you could get ready for work, and him asking for your number. You gave him your number, but you didn’t actually think you’d hear from him.

But you did, the next day. He called asking you to have lunch with him again.

And it went like that for a few days, the two of you hitting it off.

Eventually you slept together, and you figured that would drive him away. But it didn’t, again.

It was a whirlwind romance and in the span of two weeks he had told you he loved you, which you returned.

Everything was great, until one day something changed. It was almost three weeks after that fateful night in the bar, and a week after he let it slip that he loved you. It started out as a normal day for you, until he knocked on your door around eleven. You opened it and let him in, but he just stayed standing there, to which you raised a brow.

“I’m being deployed.” He finally told you once he looked at you, he stepped inside then, shutting the door behind him while sighing heavily.

You nodded slowly, knowing this was coming, he was at base training and whatnot and getting ready to be deployed, you didn’t know how long you’d have before he actually got deployed. You swallowed hard, knowing what was coming. He was going to end things. Or so you assumed.

The two of you stood quietly, a mere four feet apart, just inside the door of your apartment. You were staring at him, he was looking at his hands.

Finally you cleared your throat, which got his attention. “So what does that mean?” You asked quietly, not adding ‘for us’ although you knew it was implied.

His eyes met yours and he was quiet for a moment, still as a statue besides his breathing. “I don’t know.” He admitted quietly, still watching you.

You nodded slowly again, trying to keep the tears at bay but you could feel your resolve slipping.

He must’ve noticed because in a second his arms were around you, pulling you into a hug. “This doesn’t have to be the end of us.” He whispered to you, placing a kiss to the side of your head.

You clung to him like a lifeline, your hands gripping his shirt, tears slipping down your cheeks. “You really think you’re gonna wanna come back to a girl you’ve only known for three weeks?” You asked sadly, choking on your tears.

He hushed you, stroking the back of your head as he kept you locked in his arms. “And why wouldn’t I?” He asked softly. “I already told you that I love you.”

You forced yourself to pull away from him just enough so you could look him in the eyes. “You really mean it?” You asked quietly.

He nodded silently, a seriousness about him. “Of course I do.” He said quietly, bringing his hand up to wipe your tears.

You still had your doubts, but you nodded and sniffled. “When do you have to go?” You asked quietly.

“Next week.” He said solemnly.

You touched his cheek gently and nodded some. “Well then we’ll have to make the most of the time we’ve got left.” You said quietly.

And that’s what you did. You spent as much time as possible together, you even going so far as to take some time off from work.

And when he left, you were devastated. You kept in touch as much as you could through letters and the occasional phone call. Your love for him grew and his for you.

And then you didn’t hear from him, and you were heartbroken. Six months passed and you heard nothing, you were afraid that he had died and you hadn’t been notified because you were just his girlfriend. You even considered finding his parents in Chicago and calling them to see if they had heard anything, but you avoided doing that because you wanted to believe that he was still alive. And then you got the letter from him saying that something had happened and that he was given an honorable discharge from the Army. You immediately worried about what that could mean. And then you finally got a letter from him, assuring you that he was okay, telling you that he got out of the Army and how he hoped you would join him in Chicago.

You wanted nothing more than to go and live a life with him, but you couldn’t go back to Chicago.

~ Flashback Over ~

After fifteen minutes, you sat up in bed, your decision made. It didn’t take long to pack your bags, you could come back and get the rest of your stuff if you decided to stay in Chicago. You got into your car and began driving in the direction of Chicago, getting ready for the sixteen hour drive.

Chapter Two Coming Soon....

[theramseyloft]

3/12/21 Loft Notes

My idiot son thought he would challenge the shop vac today over it getting to go into quarantine when he can't.

He tried to bite what he considered its face.

Patron: "And what did he consider its face?"

The nozzle I was sucking up dried Bird-Bird hallway poos with.

Patron: "w....while it was on or"

I was using it at the time, yes.

It went predictably.

It's too narrow to suck his head all the way in, but he did snatch away from it and run.

Nothing injured, no worries.

Ooh!

IQ just received Rogue's sample!

So, I should know their sex Tuesday or Thursday. (2-4 work days...)

Patron: "what are you hoping for cock or hen?"

Just to know.

I have people on the wait list for therapy cocks and hens, if they pass.

If they wash, but are friendly, I have people on the list for companion birds of either sex.

And if they prefer other birds, I have some one on the breeders list for Spread.

So, no matter what sex or temperament Rogue turns out to be, there is a home lined up.

Bluh... I am just... Worn to the bone exhausted.

Ok.

Got all the inside stuff done, and need to stop for lunch.

It feels like I'm just running so far below empty...

Patron: "God I feel you, but you can do it! Get help if you need to, you don’t have to do it all yourself (hopefully)"

Bless you for the sentiment, but I do.

Got food in me again. Hopefully, that helps.

No pip marks yet on the bator egg.

Need to ask you guys a favor from now on.

If y'all see me online on Monday, Wednesday, or Friday, doing anything but taking loft notes here...

Ask me if I am done in the loft.

My executive function is so garbage that it functions like a tower of blocks that I have to manually stack at the beginning of every day.  

Especially if I'm low on spoons, doing anything other than what manually needs to be done for the birds in the morning forces another block in at the base of the stack, and the whole thing topples.  

It can take me hours to restack it, and I cannot move until it's restacked.

Thank you.  

I have restacked that damn thing four times today, I am just getting started with work in the actual loft, only the inside birds have been fed.

I'm kind of a mess, nothing is fixing it, and I keep being magnetically drawn to my phone for any hope of a dopamine boost.

My brain is fried, and I just need to keep moving until I can stop.

Rogue is up and mobile, so I need to start harness work for them SOON!!!

Patron: "what is rogue looking like? i tried to look up a pic earlier and only see a hatch day pic"

Yeah, I have over w eek of media backlogged because I just... Have had no time.

Black with white flights.

Between prep for travel Monday, some family crap that broke out that night and only allowed me two hours of sleep, travel on Tuesday, server drama that night, literally collapsing from exhaustion, having to get up and clean the loft Wednesday, and car shopping on Thursday...

The only time I have had to myself was spent sleeping.  

I have not even had time to post any of the photos I have taken.

I am dead on my freaking feet.

And yeah, Rogue is Leonard's.

He's the only spread cock, and he appears homozygous.

Ginger is Ash Red. Unless he carries blue or brown, all babies out of him will be ash red.

Chiffon is also spread, but they're heterozygous, not yet sexually mature, and likely a hen.

Angel is getting the hang of hands being the interaction bits, and has discovered that there are no unpleasant consequences for biting those.

He seems to feel better now that he knows what part of me he can lodge complaints with and engage for play fights.

He is absolutely fascinated by the bucket of seeds with character that I have cleaned off the floor.

Birds are getting a little treat today!

It's nice out.

I'mma fill them a bath.

They have been trying to bathe in their water dish for weeks now.

Betty and Liang's egg was fertile, but died two days or so into development.

Which means she can be safely separated as soon as some one wants her.

God bless that salt and mineral brick absorbing moisture from the air.

The sand has been SO easy to clean!

Note to self, check Satin's fan and Sprinks' underfluffies and see if they need their breeding trims renewed...

Oh!  I should probably check Farthing's underfluffies too.

Some one tread or attempted to, but I couldn't see who.

Weeeell fuck me runnin'...

Couture has a crest.

Sprinks doesn't cary a crest.

Satin is half Danzig, so he does, but if his were dominant, or partially dominant, he would express it.

The Komorner crest is partially a hood, much the way an Old Dutch Capuchin's is.

That's a combination of the Shell Crest (recessive) and a hood modifier (which appears partially dominant, if Papillion and Cookie are anything to go on.

Cotoure maaaay be another Vito child...

Which would also explain their very small size.

A child out of Satin and Sprinks should be HUGE!

Like, just-under-Lucy big.

The Lahore pattern, I believe, is a combination of bald head and capped.

So, throw in another bald head, and the cap separates out.

So, Vito has been a GREAT investment for loft diversity!

Hopefully, his kids inherit his fertility and not so much his bastard. XD

He's been a great nest partner to Leela (who may also need her underfluffies trimmed)

I'd really like to see what he is like on peeps before he retires for his slutty, slutty crimes.

Betty tops the retirement list right now for having a sexually mature daughter and granddaughter, and a second granddaughter out of another son.

WAY too much temptation for a boy who loves girls shaped like Hagrid.

Luxie tops the hen list for being Luxie.

Liang is retired already.  Now that MJ is mom-ing like she should, she's lower on the list.

Presently, Vito is after Betty on the retirement list for slutty bastard crimes. XD

Good lord, the little black pied peeps are taking flying hops!

There are vids up on insta of the bath, and of Leonard feeding his peeps.

Patron: "Oh my god if that's another Vito kid"

"did you ever catch Sprinks interested in him"

Nope!

Angel is a very funny man. He was wooing my feet, and when I told him that, he charged in and bit my toe. XD

And then pooed the one patch of sand I had cleaned. XD

Danica may be getting ready to lay tonight.

Danica may be getting ready to lay tonight.

In the box she and Ginger had wanted before Satin and Sprinks had to come in.

Farthing and Leela just got their underfluffies trimmed.

Angel, caught in the act, eating garbage.

He just got more dumped on him, shook it off, and went right back to rummaging for treats.

Has made not move one to leave.

Now he is on my shoulder, complaining about me repeatedly interrupting him by dumping in more.

Thistle just tread Mj, despite Pippin's cock blocking efforts.

Holding Nettle is apparently a crime.

Angel bit my ear for it and got tossed off my shoulder.

Now he's back, complaining about it.

She loafed in my lap after fighting me the whole way through putting Nettle down.

Angel does NOT think I am engaging him enough.

Since biting isn't working, he is now pooping where I have just cleaned.

I don't like the way Ginger is breathing.

He's been fine up to this point...

And it could just be from being really active this evening...

But he isn't the only bird who was and none of the rest are panting like that.

Man, it would SUCK for Nica to lay and then me to have to bring him in...

But the way his chest is pumping, and he keeps flexing his beak hinge really worries me.

Hopefully, some one else lays near enough to Nica that I can swap her eggs over.

Or he's just gotten a feather or something stuck in his choanal slit.

Ok.  I think is is something stuck.

He hasn't done the uncomfortable yawn or swallow.

Just flexed his beak a lot and itched at the corners of his mouth.

It looks like he's dislodged it and is breathing normally.

Y'all have NO idea how paranoid I am about Trich!

Mm.. that looked like an uncomfortable yawn and more heavy breathing.

Gonna grab him once I finish up the sand.

God damnit... Lot of mucus...

Maybe something stuck?  Can't tell...

I'm tired, and don't want to accidentally hurt him..

I also don't want to risk putting Danica in a dangerous position when she's about to lay.

Her bastard ex could kill her by forcing her into another stress lay.

I may have a solution.

Need to run to get it set up, though.

Ok, on our way to Walmart to grab a kennel.

The only place open didn't have the size kennel I wanted, but they had a pet taxi big enough.

The egg due to hatch today was rotten.

[l8rhader]

Post (well, sometime before the time jump to the airport before their wedding  which I would argue still hasn’t happened even though it WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 6 MONTHS AGO BUT LET'S JUST IGNORE THAT PART LOLOLOL so let’s call this October in the timeline of-) come out of the things unsaid  my Adult Reddie, quarantine, Tik Tok AU.

Addition based on this video!!

Eddie sat curled in the corner of the couch, a glass of wine curled between his fingers. He stared at the phone in his other hand as though it offended 6 lines of his lineage. Well, no, like it had offended 6 of his closest friends. He kept trying to type out witty responses, but after looking at the profile attached to the laundry list of degrading comments, it was clear that the user was... young. Very young. Like, younger than the T&C's young but, come to think of it, he wasn't sure they'd mentioned an age. But after an hour of comment after comment on his videos, the latest series being him teaching Richie how to play piano (despite how rusty his skill set had been) and Richie teaching him how to play guitar (even if most of those videos were cut short because Eddie couldn't keep his hands to himself). Most people thought it was cute.

Except 69LonnyTheLiger420.

By the time Richie came out of the bedroom, he was in the worst mood. "What it do, baby boo?" he said, dropping into the couch beside him and wrapping his arm around Eddie’s back. No response. Dejected, Richie leaned in closer and tried again. "What's the hap, cap?" He nudged Eddie’s cheek with his nose, finally startling him into reality with a high pitched hum. "I said, What's the tea, sweet pea?" Eddie crinkled his nose and shook his head, dismissing yet another nickname. "Do you not love me anymore?" he laughed, knowing that clearly wasn't the case, but something was definitely off. "Eds, what's up?" His eyes searched Eddie's for a moment before the notification noise for Tik Tok went off. Richie snatched the phone and opened it, frowning at Eddie’s notifications.

"Give it back. It's nothing. It's-"

Eyes wide, Richie fought down the decades old urge to flee. Instead, he hissed out, "Christ, babe. Does this happen a lot?"

Eddie shrugged. He supposed it happened fairly often. They were gay and happy and unapologetic and rubbing their new love in the face of millions of followers. It made sense, to an extent. This particular batch was just a lot.

Shaking his head, Richie tugged Eddie up by the hand. "No more phone,” he said, guiding him up the hallway toward their bedroom.  Eddie made an exaggerated reach for it and Richie, instead leaned over, sweeping him into a fireman’s carry.  “No more phone.”  He shoved the device down into his pocket before slapping Eddie’s ass and eliciting a yelp in response.

“Put me down, jackass.  I’m a grown man.  I can wa-”

“Grown is an exaggerated term, toots,” he joked, navigating the hall with ease, despite his fiance kicking his feet and pounding his fists, calling him all sorts of creative names that thirteen year old never could have come up with.  He tossed Eddie down on the bed and pounced on him.  “I don’t know if you remember, but we literally bullied a space oddity to death.  I think we are uniquely qualified for a response to this little shithead.”

With his hands on either side of Richie’s neck and his bony knees dug in just above his hips, he dumped Richie on to his side.  “I think that it’s a little kid and it’s not worth, I don’t know, screaming at him in the middle of a Chinese restaurant.”

Feigning offense, Richie whimpered “That was ONE time, and,” he pushed his glasses back up onto his nose, adding “AND that’s something I only reserve for fans when I’m under emotional duress.  This wretched little crotch goblin is clearly not a fan of either of ours so an emotional outburst is far above them.”

Eddie closed his eyes and shook his head, pulling Richie in for a kiss.  “I love you, but just let it go.  It’s not worth it.”

“You’re upset, babe,” he said, landing on the one nickname that Eddie never fought him on because he was too busy fighting off the butterflies swarming in his belly when he said it to actually argue.  “That means it’s worth it to me.”  The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile seeing Eddie’s resolve falter.  “You’re worth it all.”

The next morning, the video Eddie posted didn’t feature him at all.  Instead, it was five of 69LonnyTheLiger420′s least creative jabs, mainly mentioning their ages and their sexuality, floating around Richie’s head as he sat at the keyboard in the room that belonged to Eddie months and months of quarantine prior.  “You’re prob’ly just a kid in middle school and I don’t wanna fight a kid in middle school,” he crooned, accompanying himself with easy chords.  “Instead of fighting kids in middle school,” he leaned into the camera like he had a secret, then smiled.  “I’m gonna fuck your mom!  I’m gonna fuck your mom.  I’m gonna fuck your mom.”  He bopped back and forth, looking slightly reminiscent of a character from Peanuts.  “Don’t be such a saddie ‘cuz you got a new Daddy,” he added with a cheeky wink, “I’ll help you find a suit to prom.”  He dragged his middle finger up the keys dramatically in a fairly effective glissando.  “But, fuck with me and I will fuck your mom.”  He raised his eyebrows and gave a little half-hearted salute. 

Eddie swung the door open, then leaned against the doorframe looking at his fiance.  “Please don’t go the Burnham route.  I’m already sick of the people who compare you to Mulaney.”

“Why?  They’re good guys.  I don’t min-”

With a pointed stare, Eddie folded his arms.  “But you’re Richie Tozier.  You’re funny on your own.  You don’t need anyone else’s schtick.”  

Richie batted his eyes and smiled through pursed lips.  “You think I’m funny?” he cooed.  He may have played it up for Eddie’s consumption, but it still made him flutter when he actually admitted it.

Sticking his hand out and grabbing his phone to edit the video, “Come on, they put the final season of Schitt’s Creek up early so I am down for a rewatch,” he called from the hallway.  “At least I didn’t make you propose to yourself.  I love Patrick and all, but-”

”I proposed to you!  Twice!” he said, still blushing as he stood from the tiny collapsible piano bench.  “And does that mean you think you’re Patrick in this equation?  Because, baby,” he said, finally bounding into the living room, “apart from my eyebrow game, the kinship to the drinking of all wines, your startlingly similar boring fashion and comparative petite-ness,” Richie wagged his finger then swiped the remote from under the TV, “you are judgy, neurotic and,” he added quickly, “simply the best.”  He plopped down next to Eddie and wrapped him in his arms, kissing his neck.  “You are 100% the David here.”

They settled in for their binge watching.  Eddie’s phone dinged a few times, notifying them that the Losers were on the case, now.  Bill and Mike responded with a video of their own using the Pas de Deux from Us sporting matching unimpressed looks as they both tossed rocks from their garden idly in time with the music with the caption “Sticks and stones...”  It was basically nonthreatening, if maybe a little ominous, unless anyone seeing the video knew the Losers and their history with bullies, which they surely doubted.  A duet from Bev and Ben, flatly responding Beep Beep came next.  Finally, Stan’s response was of himself and Patty on the couch.  She was looking at her phone confused, Richie’s song audible in the background, finishing the loop and restarting.  “I think at this point the Mom jokes should be retired, Rich.  Eddie’s going to start getting jealous if all these little assholes start calling you Daddy, too,” he said, smirking at the screen as Patty chastised him from off-camera.  

Richie smiled, watching the responses over Eddie’s shoulder between episodes.  Even though momentary clips of the Losers were nice- it was better than nothing- Eddie really fucking missed them.  At least he knew that they’d always have his back.

[hybridequalist]

Thinking Out Loud (Part 5)

I live! I write! It’s here!

Previous Chapter (tumblr link)

Taglist (Lemme know if you wanna join this, btw):  @nesli26, @manga-crazy, @venomemes, @galleyleelol, @makingtimemine, @jackie-sugarskull, @nightshade7117, @skysthelimit291, @randomshizzles101, @inumorph, @snow-massacre, @phantom-fangirl-stuff, @pixellated-sparks, @vsalamandor2, @otaku-mai, @snarky-badger

Your legs were bouncing as you sat in Lauren’s front seat, staring blankly out the window. You were focused on your breathing techniques to settle yourself, settle your pre-outing jitters. It had been a surprise, after all.

Eddie had called earlier and asked if you were available for a rescheduled lunch outing. You’d given the affirmative and Lauren had helpfully offered to bring you downtown to the cafe on the way to some errands she needed to run. You knew that she was offering just to be nice and give you some comfort and more time to transition to being in a social situation, but you appreciated it...even if it felt like your mom driving you to a High School dance.

The car halted at a stoplight and you automatically glanced at your landlady, just in case she wanted to talk to you.

Her finger tapped the steering wheel before she twisted to look at you, signing “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“If I’m not,” you sign back, “you’ll be the first to know. Just keep your phone close. But I think I’ll be okay. Eddie is nice.”

Lauren gave you a meaningful glance as the light turned green. Her thoughts reflected the look, full of a fierce protectiveness, one that all but screamed "if he makes you uncomfortable I will end him."

You fidgeted, tugging at the edge of your frilled blouse. You’d wanted to dress up since it was the first time in a while that you had gone out with a friend, but you were starting to remember why you never wore your nicer clothes: they were itchy and still felt too new. Just the minor friction of the less-than-comfortable fabric was stressing your nerves even more.

You took notice of the anxious energy building and took a few deep breaths before resuming the meditation breathing pattern you had learned in one of your infrequent therapy sessions. After a few minutes of focus, your heart rate slowed and you felt more grounded. You glanced away from your feet and out the window, realizing that Lauren was now looking for a parking space or some free pavement space to drop you off.

You pulled out your phone and started typing.

We just made it. Looking for a spot to stop.

Your phone indicated that Eddie had read the text. You pulled down the sunshade and checked your appearance, fiddling with the microscopic flaws that had developed.

This might be a meeting between friends, but Eddie was still a relatively new acquaintance--he was still investigating you and deciding what labels to give you. It was a time to put your best foot forward. Especially since he'd gotten a glimpse of your...issues.

You glanced at your phone, expecting to see the beginning indication of a return text, but instead you heard some muffled shouting. You automatically turned your head towards the sidewalk and saw a familiar figure waving at the car from the street.

“ EDDIE! SHE SAW US! CAN YOU  HEAR US?!”

The mental yelling rang through your skull, making you wince a little at the invisible volume. You waved out at them and tapped Lauren on the shoulder before she crossed the intersection.

“Eddie is over there,” you pointed out, letting her take the time to follow your gestures and resume looking back at you. “I’ll get out here. I will call your phone if I need to get picked up and text you the details.”

“If it vibrates, I’m turning right back around,” she promised. The two of you shared a quick hug before you unbuckled yourself and stepped out. Careful of other cars, you quickly speedwalked over to the sidewalk where your friends waited.

“Good to see you again,” Eddie greeted you, lifting his hand for a high five. You smiled and reciprocated.

“ DON’T IGNORE ME ,” Venom complained, sounding for all the world like a kicked puppy. You reached up and patted the sleeve of Eddie’s jacket, where you knew the alien was hiding. The preening feeling from Venom’s thoughts made you want to laugh aloud.

“So...lunch?” Eddie asked. “Have you tried this new cafe? They really go hard into the whole ‘sourdough is the food of San Francisco' thing. Probably meant to get the tourists, but the sandwiches still are great.”

There were a lot of things to respond to in that brief sentence and you fumbled with your conversation cards, flipping through them to string together a sentence that made sense.

“No. That sounds interesting. Let’s go.”

“It’s just this way,” he gestured, straightening from bending closer to read your cards. “Stick close; we might hit some of the lunch rush on the way in.”

You grabbed another card.

“I’m not good with crowds.”

“Then we can order to go and find somewhere else to sit. It’s no problem.”

“ WE WERE GOING TO SHOW YOU MY SURPRISE FROM LAST TIME ANYWAY. THE PRIVACY WILL HELP ,” Venom added.

Eddie offered his arm and you blinked at him before you caught his thoughts. He wanted to make sure you stayed beside them since you couldn’t very easily let him know you were being left behind--not like how most people let their friends know. Venom’s feelings were tacked onto the thought, revealing that he liked the thought of you holding onto them because he could protect you better the closer you were.

You looped your arm through Eddie’s.

The walk to the cafe was silent from a vocal standpoint: Eddie and Venom conversed with one another about their thoughts on the food and their past experience, the more deliberate wording telling you that they were actually talking to you without expecting any replies. All the same, you couldn’t help but feel awkward at how every passerby viewed you--both pedestrian and driver. Most thought you were on a date, others were convinced you just didn’t want to get separated. Almost everyone wondered why you and Eddie weren’t having a conversation. After all, wasn’t it the polite thing to do when out for a walk?

“ ARE YOU LISTENING TO US, MORSEL? ”

The symbiote’s question pulled you back. You’d gotten caught up in the overwhelming noise of everyone else’s thoughts, losing your ability to distinguish internal words from external ones with the din of other people’s conversations mixed with their observations of you. But Venom’s mental voice was much louder than the humans walking past and was able to cut through the ceaseless hum.

You immediately reached for one of your cards, feeling the well worn, bent corners and not needing to check it for the words on it.

“Sorry.”

You reached for another, equally used phrase.

“It’s difficult to explain.”

“Hey, no worries,” Eddie replied, tone deliberately soft so as to comfort you. “You just looked like you were spacing out a bit and I wanted to make sure you were okay. We’re almost there.”

You nodded and let your friend resume guiding you, deliberately focusing on his and Venom’s thoughts to let the others fade into background noise.

“ I tried your name a few times, but you weren’t answering. I’m glad you’re okay for now. Do you think you’ll be okay in the shop? Just because it’s closer quarters. ”

“ EDDIE, WE FOUND HER IN A GROCERY STORE. I’M SURE SHE CAN HANDLE A FOOD TRANSACTION. ”

“ Do you remember the spoons metaphor I told you about? ”

“ AND I STILL DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY IT HAS TO BE SPOONS! IT JUST MAKES ME THINK OF FOOD AND I AM ALWAYS HUNGRY. ”

Their banter was comforting. Their partnership might still be relatively new by normal standards, but spending all their time together--literally every waking moment--had quickly built their bond beyond what two ordinary humans could achieve in similar circumstances. They had actually reached a point where words, while convenient to keep their identities distinct, were not entirely necessary. Images, sensations, memories, all were equal communication tools.

It almost made you jealous at how easily they could literally share their thoughts with one another. You were stuck having to pretend you were oblivious to what people really felt.

The cafe was nice and cozy. There thankfully wasn’t a huge line--it gave you plenty of time to pick what you wanted from the menu and look at the carefully selected decor of the shop (mostly to ignore the man standing behind you, who was actively checking out anyone who looked to be of age and was daring to show even an inch of skin). You typed up your order on your phone and showed it to the cashier, who thankfully took it all in stride and smoothly got the process started. Eddie ordered a healthy sandwich and a slice of very rich chocolate cake, which had Venom purring at the thought of dessert.

You slipped out of the cafe, the line having grown significantly behind you and your friends even in just the short time. You could feel a headache forming from the combined vocal and mental chatter as you held on to Eddie and let him guide you away.

“Are you okay with taking a few backroads?” he asked and you saw he’d noticed your scrunched brow. “Just for some peace and quiet away from the main street? It’s probably only going to get louder.”

You nodded vigorously and Eddie picked up his pace, practically pulling you along with his brisk speed. He guided you through an alley onto a much narrower footpath with significantly fewer pedestrians, hesitating as he silently asked Venom to help him remember the way to a green space he remembered eating at before.

You took the break to check yourself over for signs of overstimulation. So far, nothing that some cleansing breaths and food wouldn’t take care of.

And then, like a ping on a psychic radar, you heard a familiar mind call your name.

“ Y/N?! But didn’t the suits snatch her?! ”

Your eyes snapped over to where you felt his thoughts and your heart began to race as you saw a face you’d prayed would never cross paths with you again.

At a first glance, he wasn’t a physically imposing man: barely five and a half feet tall, he didn’t show any obvious muscle or have any “red flags” to his features that might suggest he was dangerous. You almost would have looked right past him--his hair hadn’t been a blonde crew cut when you’d seen him last--but those deep hazel eyes held yours prisoner. You didn’t even need your powers to see the obvious greed ravaging his thoughts.

“Y/N? Hey, are you with me?”

Eddie’s words felt like they came from far away, even with Venom echoing them with his impressive volume. You were just staring at the other man, a silent scream trapped in your mute throat.

Your sight was suddenly filled with brown leather as Eddie stood in front of you, bending over to look you in the eye.

“Y/N,” he repeated. “Are you okay? Are you present? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Excuse me.” The familiar voice made your skin break out in goosebumps as a chill ran down your spine. “Ma’am, are you going to be alright?”

You jolted backwards, throwing your hands up to clamp over your ears. It was a futile attempt to block out the feeling of his mind, his thoughts, the way he felt the world and took delight in your weakness, in your fear, in the worry of the others who were witnessing your distress…

“ EDDIE, MASK? ” Venom asks.

“ It’s too public ,” his partner protested silently even as he verbally stated, “Don’t crowd her please.”

“Let’s go,” you signed frantically, unable to stop fixating. “Please.”

“Come on,” Eddie ushers you,  holding out a hand for you to take--which you did with an iron grip. “It’s not far.”

You kept pace with your friends as you put rapid distance between yourself and your old acquaintance, still highly aware of those hazel eyes on you. The sound of the city faded as your feet hit grass and Eddie sat you down onto a bench, dropping to one knee by the armrest.

“What do you need me to do?” he asks, looking you over.

“ WHAT CAN WE DO? ” the symbiote echoed.

You just kept holding Eddie’s hand, fighting tears as you made yourself breathe deeply, clinging tighter when he tried to retract.

They were concerned. They wanted to help. And that was enough to help ground you to the point where you could pull out your phone.

I’ve met that man before. His name is Mitch. We used to be friends. It didn’t end well.

“ I’M GOING TO EAT HIS HEAD! ” Venom howled. His human counterpart took the revelation a little better: he took a second to process it--suppressing the flurry of questions that flooded his mind--and then he stood to join you on the bench.

“Do you need to talk about it now, or do you just want to put it aside for now?”

Put it aside. Please.

“Not a problem. Shall we eat?”

You were a little surprised he agreed so quickly--especially with how vocal Venom was being--but it was a relief nonetheless. You opened your take-out bag and retrieved your food, setting about enjoying it despite the residual shakiness in your hands.

You were about half done when a realization struck you, making you bite your tongue by accident. You jolted your phone out.

Did you respond to me signing back there?

Eddie read it and then laughed a little.

“Uh, so about the surprise Vee had for you...I’ll let him show you.”

“ FINALLY! ”

You watched curiously as Eddie relaxed and then his hands began to move--and you could see in his mind that he wasn’t in charge of the motions. This was all Venom.

The motions were careful and slow, but you sat straight up as Eddie’s hands started forming familiar words.

“Hi. My name is--” there was some hesitation as they briefly conferred with what name to use but they quickly resumed-- “V-E-N-O-M. It is good to talk to you.”

You gasped and gave them a brief applause. You then returned to typing.

How did you learn that so quickly?

“Vee has lots of free time when I’m sleeping,” Eddie shrugged, smiling as he regained the use of his arms. “He’s been looking at Sign dictionaries trying to string that whole phrase together.”

“ I’M BETTER AT FINGERSPELLING ,” the alien admitted, still basking in pride. “AND I KNOW ALL OF THE BASICS: HUNGRY, EAT, DRINK, YES, NO, GO, STOP, PLEASE, THANK YOU AND CHOCOLATE.”

You laughed soundlessly as Eddie rolled his eyes.

But why? You asked. Why go to the trouble?

“ BECAUSE WE WANT TO MAKE IT EASIER TO TALK TO YOU MORE! ” There is no hesitation in Venom’s response. “ IF YOU ARE IN TROUBLE, WE NEED TO UNDERSTAND WHAT IS WRONG QUICKLY! ”

“Not that we’re expecting trouble,” Eddie adds. “I just figured it would be helpful in general. But you’re gonna have to forgive me if he--” he tapped his temple--“has to do some translating in the beginning since he’ll pick it up way faster than me.”

You could feel tears pricking at your eyes again. They were willing to learn Sign for you? No other friend had been willing to do that for you since High School.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” They’d noticed your watery eyes. They were worried. They knew you had been stressed out during the whole outing and wanted to make you comfortable and safe.

Nothing,” you fingerspelled, taking care to make each letter distinct so they could more easily follow. “Thanks.”

“ EDDIE, I WANT THE CAKE NOW ,” Venom complained, changing gears faster than you or Eddie expected. “ WE HAD YOUR HEALTHY SANDWICH, NOW GIVE ME THE GOOD STUFF. ”

“ You absolute addict ,” Eddie thought back, taking a determined bite of mostly lettuce just to make the symbiote pout. You gave another silent laugh as you too returned to eating, happy to just listen to their chatter for a while longer.

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. VI || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words: 3527

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: boats in bad weather??

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: The group make headway with an underwater drone, while Y/N seeks closure from her family.

A/N: time for some insight into y/n’s history!!! also i have to go into school tmrw and i am NOT here for it 

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

“Alright, keep a lookout.” JJ reminded you as you pulled up to the hotel,”We’re behind enemy lines.” he pulled out the gun, ignoring how John B argued with him as he loaded it, in full display. “Can never be too careful.” JJ reminded you.

“Hey, I predict bringing a weapon to a four star hotel will likely cause more problems than it solves.”

“Thank you, Pope.” John B sighed.

Kie leaned forward, her head sticking through to the front of the VW, “I swear to God, I’m gonna throw that gun in the ocean, JJ. Put it back.”

You reached through the window and snatched the gun off him, leaning over and handing it to John B, glaring at JJ as you pulled back out of his van window.

“”You can’t grab a gun like that!” he leaned forwards to argue, but at the look of your face when you turned around, he sighed, hopping out of the car, “Can’t forget my badge - professional bus-boy.”

“So where are we going now?” Pope inquired, following JJ to the doors.

“We’re getting the internet because only rich people have electricity right now.” JJ explained, leading you through the crowded, steamy kitchen and trying to grab some bits of food as he did, calling a greeting to a guy named Andrew. “See they got the backup generators going? Kooks don’t miss a beat.” he led you to a door, which opened to a load of computers.

“Sweet Lord, the internet!” Pope ran to the computer, sitting down, “I’ve missed you.”

“Let me get in there,” JJ spoke, “gotta check on my insta models.” you rolled your eyes, walking to the window and watching the ant’s nest of rich people thrive. You heard Pope type in the coordinates, and walked back to see what was going on. After the discovery of it being only 900 feet, and JJ telling you about the drone-camera-thing and his dad’s redundancy, you left again, not wanting to stick around for long.

--

“Pope, we’re not stealing the drone, we’re… borrowing it.” John B tried to justify.

“‘Humans are the only animal that can’t tell fantasy from reality.’” said Pope vaguely.

“Did you come up with that?” John B asked.

“Albert Bernstein came up with it,” he clarified, “but it applies to this whole treasure-hunting thing. So, which is it? Fantasy, or reality?”

“Why’re you so weird, Pope?” JJ asked, concentrating on rolling his blunt.

“It’s fantasy, but possible reality.” Kie suggested.

“Reality.” John B looked around at the group.

“Virtual reality.” JJ muttered, flicking his lighter on and going to light his blunt. You snatched the spliff off of him.

“The smell’s doing my head in.” you said, ignoring his hurt expression.

“Keep the signal clear.” Pope agreed.

“You know what your problem is?” JJ piped up, glaring at you.

“You?” You quipped, raising your eyebrow as if to say ‘I dare you’.

“No!” he shook his head, holding your gaze, “It’s that you take everything so seriously! And you don’t bother to find out what really happened. You make an assumption without knowing the full story.” he didn’t break eye contact with you. John B stopped the van, and you inhaled, holding your anger in.

“My problem,” you seethed, “Is that there is only one way to take most things. I don’t need to know the full story, because the message came through - loud and clear - regardless.” 

“Well maybe,” JJ started, the pair of you ignoring the faces of your fellow pogues as your voices rose, “if you knew the other side to the story, you would know that that’s not how it was meant.”

“Really?” you laughed incredulously, and you could tell he knew he was entering a danger zone, “Because there’s only one way to take it JJ! Please, please, enlighten me on literally any other way I could have taken it!” 

“Okay,” John B said, overpowering your argument, and drawing your attention to the shocked and confused faces of your friends, “Y’all need to sort your shit out, in the meantime, JJ, Pope, the gate’s open, let’s go, and Y/N, get ready, getaway driver.” 

You moved to the driver’s seat, grumbling about being a getaway driver as you watched the three boys run through the gate, which was crawling shut.

You waited for about ten minutes, bored out of your mind as you held a hardly engaging text conversation with a girl from your old school. Your bored brain’s trance was interrupted by the cutting sound of a dog barking. You looked through the wire gate, seeing that the guard had left the car. You jumped out of the car, slamming the door as you ran to the gate, pulling yourself up and over, jumping down the other side in a well-practiced manner, running towards the barking.

You scaled the rows of boats until you saw the guard, calming the dog down as he shouted to a boat. From your angle, you could see a rucksack. JJ.

“Excuse me?” you yelled, and the guard turned his attention to you as you walked towards him. “Uh, sorry, Officer, you left the gate open.” you lied, racking your brain for a lie to distract the man. “There was a girl with a flat tire.” Please, Kie, be there.

“I know.” he responded gruffly, and you nodded.

“Well, Sir, she’s like, panicking ‘cause you ran off, and she has to get to the ferry. You should probably help her out.”

He looked you up and down suspiciously as you played with your hair, battering your eyelashes lightly. He sighed, walking away, the dog in tow. You waited until he was out of sight, and earshot, to call out to JJ. His head appeared over the side of the boat, and then he stood and jogged down the steps to face you. You barely spared him a glance, heading towards the impound yard at the back.

“C’mon, shithead.” you murmured, hearing his footsteps follow you, catching up and joining your stride.

“Y/N,” he attempted, trying to catch your attention as you stared straight on.

“JJ,” you mocked, “I don’t want to talk about it. It should never have happened, and I’m sorry it did. Can we move on?”

You didn’t wait for a reply as you stormed off, towards the others, leaving his heart breaking in the dust.

--

“Kie,” you sighed, collecting glasses from one of the tables, “I told you, okay? He pushed me away. I mean, message received, loud and clear.”

“But you were drunk, maybe he just didn’t want to take advantage of you?” she offered, and you put the tray of glasses down, sighing and looking over to her.

“He just kind of, walked off.” you reminded her, “He just pushed me away and walked off. I felt like such an idiot - it was so humiliating, I mean he flirts with me, he asks me about all the right things, he wants to know about me, and who I am in a way that no guy ever has before. And I guess I got so caught up in my feelings that I didn’t realise they were one-sided. He pushed me away, and there’s only one way to take that. Besides, you saw how he acted at the yard.” You dropped your head into your hands. “How do I face him Kie?” you could feel her rub your back, “How do I face him, and the boys - he’s definitely told the boys - after I embarrassed myself like that?” 

She sighed, taking your face in her hands, “With your head held high, like a fucking a boss, because it’s his loss.” 

“You’re a poet and you don’t even know it.”

--

You had dined at the Wreck, still ignoring JJ and agreeing to reconvene at the Chateau in the early morning to test the drone, which was what you were now doing, as the sun began to creep over the marsh, dawn only having been an hour ago. Pope and JJ stood next to you, checking the camera, with Kie and John B in the water and you sat on the side of the pontoon.

“God bless geeks, Pope, truly man.” JJ said, looking at the screen. “What would we do without you to control the drone?”

“It’s not a drone,” you pointed out, “It’s an ROV.”

“Shut up, shut up.” He said, looking out at Kie and John B, “It’s too early for that right now.”

“Hey, once we get footage of the wreck, we’ll bring it to a lawyer in town and file a claim.” said John B.

“It’s such bullshit, why do we have to do that?”

“Well there is maritime salvage law.” You pointed out. 

“You can’t just go to the bottom of the ocean and scoop a bunch of stuff up.” confirmed Pope.

“I know, I know, it’s just, lawyers aren’t cheap, bro.” 

“JJ, we’re about to get our hands on 400 mil, and you’re worried about being cheap?” you snorted.

“And as soon as they see the footage they’ll work for a comp.” John B explained.

“How do you know all of that?” Kie asked.

“‘Cause my dad said it. Like, a million times.”

“This tether is like, really long.” Pope pointed out, “In the wrong weather it could get pushed around.”

“Then we’ll go in dead calm.” you shrugged, glancing at the storm clouds above you, “So not today.”

“So now we just gotta wait around for the right weather.” You pulled up the weather app on your phone, “Or tomorrow, thank God.” You stood up, “I gotta go anyway. I’ll be back tomorrow evening, so see you guys then.”

The pogues looked confused and you shrugged, “I have a ferry to catch.”

“A ferry?” Kie asked.

“Yeah, my brother’s driving from college to Florida to meet his girlfriend so he’s passing through, I said I’d meet him on the mainland until he leaves tomorrow.” you explained, grabbing your bag. “See you later.”

--

“Do you ever think about Mom?” you asked, taking a scoop of ice cream, making Lewis look at you, nodding slowly. “‘Cause I feel shitty, like yeah, she did some fucked up shit, and is one of the major factors as to why I’m now living in some islands on the other side of the country, but, she keeps calling me, and I want to pick up. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No.” Your brother shook his head, “She’s our mom, you’re still allowed to talk to her, even if you can’t see her. Besides, we deserve some closure, so if you can get it off her, then do.”

You nodded. “I miss her. And I miss how happy Dad was when he was around her. How happy we all were. It hurts that she did that to us.” you looked out to sea, watching the islands in the distance.

“Me too, little sis, me too.” he leant against the bollard next to him.

“So, you have a girlfriend.” you grinned at the way he blushed, “How long you been together?”

“Eight months, since the start of college.” he smiled.

“I’m happy for you.” you smiled at the thought of him finally finding the right girl, he deserved it.

“Thanks.” he grinned, “How about you? Any guys in the Outer Banks catching your eye?”

You thought about lying, but you decided you’d done enough of that for a lifetime. “There was, but I don’t think so anymore. Things are… weird.” 

“Oh yeah, what’s his name?” he nudged you.

“JJ. I thought we had something going on, but I guess he made it clear that that was fabricated.”

“How so?”

“We were like, hanging out everyday, and flirting and shit, but he kinda rejected me when I kissed him.” 

“It’s his loss, any guy would be lucky to have you. But if you need me to kick his ass, I’ll get on that ferry with you and do it like, as soon as I can.”

“You’re so extra.”

“You got friends?”

“What do you mean? You think I’m a loner or something?”

“It’s a simple question!”

“Yes. Yes, I have friends.”

“Good friends? They look out for you?”

“Yeah. I’ve known them a month and they’re already better friends than any of my old ones were. They’re the one reason I’m glad I live in the Outer Banks now. I love them, weird as it sounds. And they love me.”

You went back to the motel he’d rented you rooms in, and sat on your bed, opening your phone and staring at the many missed calls from your mom. You tapped the call button, holding the phone to your ear.

It rang twice, then the line opened with a small crackle.

“Hey Mom.” 

“Sweetie,” you could almost hear her relieved smile, “How are you?”

“I’m… uh, I’m good. I’m settling in. How’s Chris?”

“That’s great! He’s good, we’re good. Thank you. For calling back.”

“Why did you call, Mom?”

“I wanted to apologise. I’m so sorry. What I did - it tore us apart, and it was unforgivable. And now I see the situation you’re in and I wish I could take it back.”

“But you can’t, Mom. You destroyed my life, and you called to kill tow birds with one stone - pretend to seem like the caring mom you proved yourself not to be, and to clear your own conscience. Well fuck you. You really wanna know how I’m doing? I haven’t talked to any of my close friends from Cali because you made us move so suddenly that they thought I’d hid it from them. They all think I’m a slut, and I couldn’t win the fucking court case because of you! You left Dad high and dry, for a rich dude you’d known for a month!”

“Y/N,” she sighed through the phone, and you noticed that your cheeks were wet and stiff with tears.

“No, Mom. Don’t call again. Don’t try to contact me. I thought this would help get me closure, but your apology is just an excuse! I - I don’t ever wanna talk to you again.”

“I love you.”

You hung up, falling back onto the motel bed, and letting the sobs shake your body with such force that you couldn’t breathe.

--

You got back late the next day, when the sky was falling into darker hues every minute. You were tired, but you missed your friends. You dropped your bag off in the hallway and headed straight over the road to the Chateau. You found them in the hammocks. “Hey.”

Kie squealed, jumping up and tackling you in a hug that made you stumble back.

“Missed you,” she smiled, “had to deal with these shitheads by myself.” 

“Sorry.” you smiled, climbing into the hammock with her as the boys protested to her insults. 

“You missed some good waves.” John B commented.

“You guys know I don’t surf.” You chuckled. “I’m sure they were great though.”

“But you should surf.” JJ said, sitting on the other end of the hammock, both of your feet thrown over his. “How’s your brother?”

“I’m good without that hobby.” you laughed. “He’s good, enjoying college. What were y’all talking about?”

“How JJ believes in the gold.” Kie smirked.

“Oh my God, JJ, do you really believe?” John B joked.

“Totally. Wait, are we talking about four mil?”

“Four hundred mil.” You corrected, speaking softly, your anger at him seemingly having dissipated.

“I’m gonna dream about shipwrecks.” he rolled onto his side, as you and Kie giggled.

“Goodnight, Bird!” You laughed.

“Goodnight, Birdshit!” Pope mocked, making you all laugh.

“I love you guys.” You muttered, feeling Kie cuddle into you.

--

You stood at the bow, sunglasses on as you watched the waves roll out in front of you, and the wind bite at your skin, whipping your hair out behind you.

“Alright JJ, pin it here.” John B called, and you turned around, hopping off the front of the boat as JJ responded.

“Roger that, x marks the spot.” you walked to Kie, helping her with the wire.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen.” John B pulled out the ROV, “To going full kook.” he plopped the drone in the water, high-fiving you as he walked back to Pope. Kie started feeding the wire through, and you sat down next to JJ in the cockpit, watching how he pouted when you stole his seat. “Alright, JJ, we’re right over it, ten seconds northwest.”

“Got it!” he repeated the instructions as he followed them. “Why are you in here?” 

“I wanted to sit down.” You countered, swivelling the chair from side to side.

“One hundred feet!” Kie called.

“You could sit down outside.” he nodded to the benches outside.

“But then you wouldn’t get the pleasure of my company!”

“I wouldn’t call it a pleasure.” he joked.

“Two hundred feet.” Kie’s call came.

You put your hand to your chest in fake offence, “C’mon man, you’re breakin’ my heart!”

“Sorry, bro.” he said, adjusting the steering.

“Three hundred feet.” 

“JJ why did you push me away when I kissed you?”

“Y/N, while I would love to have this conversation, now is not the time.”

“Four hundred feet.” Kie looked down, “The tide’s turning.”

“Hey JJ?” John B called out.

“Yup.” You responded for him, swivelling the seat towards John B.

“Ten seconds, easy. South-southeast.” 

You swivelled back around, repeating the instructions and ignoring the  “Yeah, Y/N, I heard.” as he turned aggressively, and you shuffled the chair back.

“JJ, twenty seconds midspeed alright? South.” John B called.

You stood up, the sudden change in weather and instructions causing anxiety to gnaw at your stomach. You grabbed a sweater off the side, pulling it over your head to keep the wind from giving you hypothermia. You went to Pope and John B, hoping to make yourself useful.

“What’s going on?” You asked, looking at the storm clouds.

“700 feet!” Kie called, and Pope turned to you.

“A little bad weather, we’re fine.” He assured you, and you nodded slowly, knowing he could see you were still anxious. 

You stumbled to the side as the waves crashed into the boat, JJ looking back at you, concerned. “This is not ‘dead calm’.” you mumbled as JJ peered out at the clouds.

“JJ, hold it steady!” John B called.

“900!” Kie called.

“JJ, we’re gonna turtle in this storm.” You said, watching the panic in your friends, as you fumbled with the sleeves. “Can I help with anything?”

“Sort the speed.” He said, moving so you could control the meter.

“920!” Kie yelled.

“Crank it north by northwest! Ten seconds!” John B called, panic clear in his voice.

“John B there’s too much current, we’re gonna lose it!” Kie yelled.

“South southwest JJ! Hard!” John B yelled, and you pushed the meter, turning quickly, working in tandem with the blonde boy.

“Half speed! Steady at this bearing, JJ!” He steered by his instructions as you slowed the boat.

“960!”

“980!”

You heard Pope yelling that you were at the bottom, and John B yelling for JJ to be steady, calling for quarter-speed. You slowed the boat again, both you and JJ looking at where the others crowded around the monitor.

“See anything?” JJ called.

You could see them mumbling, and their faces falling. They had found the boat, but came up empty. You helped JJ steer as they swept the wreck twice more, before running out of battery. You could hear Pope trying to bring the optimism back, but you knew it was futile.

“Guys, we’ve been through it three times, there’s nothing there.” you called.

“Shut up!” Kie shouted back, and you sighed, dejected.

“What? She’s right!” JJ backed you. You pulled your hand through your hair, taking the speed controls back off JJ.

“The gold could be buried, we don’t know!” Kie shouted, searching for something hopeful to say.

“If it was there, it would have been found on the metal detector, okay?” John B turned to face the group again. “Somebody beat us to it.”

You could see JJ getting frustrated, the sight of his best friend in pain clearly getting to him. “Or it was never there.” he muttered. You sighed, turning to check on your friends, who were riddled with frustration and anger. Eventually, you decided to go home.

When you eventually got back to the island, Kie pulled you aside.

“Are you and JJ alright again?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. Even if he doesn’t see me like that, I don’t wanna lose him. I talked to my brother about it, and I just feel like we should at least try to be good again.”

“You know we all love you either way right? And JJ cares about you, you guys have got to sort it out, you may have only known each other for less than a month, but I honestly can’t imagine how he’d be if he fucked things up with you.”

“You sure about that?” 

“‘Course. Anyway, you’re coming out with me, Pope and JJ, maybe JB,  tomorrow anyway.”

“I am?”

“Movie night down in the Kook Green.”

Tags: @tangledinsparkles​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @lolitstiana​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​ @teamnick​ @thoughtsofthestars​ @obxmxybxnk​ @jjmaybankswife​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @sxcretinhuman​ @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @angvelics​ @badwolf00593​

[forestwater87]

Listen, just because this fandom is temporarily dead doesn’t mean my love for Gwenvid is.

Mega thanks to @gwenvidweek​ for making this happen! We love you, mods!

Gwenvid Week, Day 1: Before Camp/After Camp 

David’s always had a soft spot for rituals. They remind him of his mom, of camp -- of all the things that feel like home. They center him, clear his mind, get him ready for the challenges ahead.

He carefully dots the exclamation mark in the sand and takes a step back, tossing his writing stick to the side and putting his hands on his hips. The words written on the shore are a little crooked, the D a little crooked from when a sudden bird call startled him, but as he kicks off his boots (carefully rolling up his socks and smushing them into the toes to keep them from getting sandy) his chest is warm and light.

And lucky for him, because the lake is so cold he nearly jumps out of his skin. Clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, he forces himself to wade out to his waist, and turns back to survey his handiwork. With the frigid water of Lake Lilac leaving his legs numb, the cool breeze making the trees rustle and the air smell like pine needles, and the sun already scorching everything it touches as it climbs into the sky, he reads back the words in the sand, letting his gaze move slow and deliberately over each swoop and wobbly line and tracing their mirror in the calm surface of the lake like sacred runes.

Campe diem. The words that make the summer begin. 

Or . . . not quite.

“David!”

The voice makes him jump, but a second later he smiles. “Good morning, Gwen!” he calls, splashing back to shore and subtly kicking away the letters. “It’s nice to see you up so early on such an important day!”

His co-counselor doesn’t look like it’s nice to be up, but aside from a baleful glare she shoots at the sunrise she doesn’t respond. She’s still groggy, dressed in her pajamas with her hair a messy tangle of knots that blend the two tones into a single warm burgundy. The sun makes her glow where it hits her face, warm and lit from the inside like a jack-o-lantern . . . only that sounds a lot less pretty than he intended, so he’s relieved that’s one of the thoughts he didn’t share out loud.

David wonders if people enjoy looking at their best friends this much, or if it means something potentially dangerous. The way he always does when this question occurs, he quickly banishes it from his mind. “How are you settling in?” he asks, fully aware of the answer. They share a cabin, after all, and Gwen’s spent enough years at Camp Campbell to have the routine down to a science; within minutes of hopping off the bus QM rented for the summer, she’s mostly unpacked, changed into her counselors’ uniform, and begun a critical sweep of the camp’s supplies and paperwork.

She makes a noncommittal noise, rubbing the sleep from one eye with the heel of her hand and trying to shield herself from the sun with the other. “Are you ready? The stores are gonna be full of families getting shit for the summer -- it’ll be like Black Friday, so we’ve gotta be in and out as soon as the Tradin’ Post opens unless you’re prepared to deck some soccer moms.”

He resists the urge to smile; she might not believe in the power of the beginning-of-summer rituals, but this optimistic plan for their camping supply trip is as much a staple of every summer as David’s sand writing. “Sounds like a swell plan, Gwen.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she mutters, but he catches a half-smile before she turns her back on the lake. “Come on, get dressed and meet me in the Mess Hall. I’ll start inventory.” As he falls into step beside her, she glances over at him, raising her eyebrows. “Morning swim?”

He shrugs, turning to survey the empty campground. “Basically!”

“Sure. Seems like something you’d do.” She dismisses him with a wave of her hand, already fixated on the task at hand. “Just hurry up so we can get out of here. If you think you’re gonna make me do all the hard jobs by myself, I’ve got a guitar with your face written all over it.”

David laughs before he can stop himself. “There it is,” he murmurs, causing her to glance over curiously.

“Huh?”

“Nothing! I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Might as well start by seeing what food we have, right?” As he ducks into the counselor’s cabin, he catches a glimpse of her hair, glinting like copper in the early-morning light, and his heart lifts.

There it is.

Writing the camp’s motto in the sand and water is important to him, a silly little consecration ritual that marks the line between his life outside of Camp Campbell and the endless, magical months of summer. He’s done it ever since he was a junior counselor; it feels like staking a claim on the only perfect place that’s ever existed, like writing his name on the heart of the earth. Even if he technically owns the camp now -- something that felt too bizarre and wonderful to make sense last summer and if anything is only more strange after an entire year -- no amount of signatures or invoices capture the simple power of the words “campe diem” on Lake Lilac.

But for David, the summer doesn’t really begin until Gwen tells him she needs him. Never in those exact words, of course . . . but he’s gotten pretty good at reading between her lines, and she’s never exactly been subtle.

He tightens his bandanna around his neck, smiling at his reflection. Get out there and help your CBFL, David. Campe diem.

The wheels that help spring become summer begin turning.

---

“Okay.” Gwen groans, rolling her shoulders; there are some ominous pops and cracks, but she doesn’t look like she’s dislocated anything so David assumes everything’s fine. “I’ll “Okay. This is okay.” Gwen runs a hand through her hair, grimacing as her fingers get caught in tangles. She’s still in her pajamas, a smear of dirt along her thigh from crawling around the supply shed, but she’s so single-minded David isn’t sure she’s even aware of what she’s wearing. (He makes a quick mental note to remind her to change before they leave, because when she gets hyperfocused like this, it’s easy to see her blasting down the shelves of the Sleepy Peak Tradin’ Post in bare feet and oversized paisley boxer shorts.) “We can’t afford literally anything we need. Just like every summer. This is gonna be a disaster, but that’s okay.”

He puts his hand on her shoulder, figuring now isn’t a good time for a hug. “It’ll be fine,” he tries. He scans over their shopping list and tries to imagine a way they can stretch their budget to cover it all; then he remembers that he doesn’t know what their budget is, because Gwen takes care of that, and feels a faint spike of panic jam itself between his ribs. “Let’s ask Mr. Campbell if --”

“Don’t even think about it, kiddo. The government already cleaned me out.” Mr. Campbell slouches into the room, tugging at the trapdoor in the Mess Hall ceiling that leads to the attic. “Those brothers found every last hiding place I had. Apparently it’s being used to repay my ‘debts to society,’ if you can believe it.”

“I can,” Gwen mutters, gaze darting around the Mess Hall as though hoping a sign saying “Free Money Here” will appear out of the blue. She hurries into the back room, where they’ve managed to convert a closet into something resembling an office.

David’s distracted by something else, though. “Brothers?” he repeats, hurrying to help Mr. Campbell lower the spring-down ladder from the ceiling.

“Yeah, those suits from Washington. You’ve met them a hundred times -- sunglasses, terrible fashion sense. The secret agent guys.”

“Um, sir --” he’s not supposed to call Mr. Campbell “sir” anymore, since he’s technically the boss now, but it’s a surprisingly tough habit to kick, “-- if you mean Agent and Agent Miller . . . they’re not brothers.”

He frowns down at David, frozen halfway up to the attic like he’s scaling a mountain. “Of course they are! Or are you going to tell me it’s a coincidence that they have the same last name?”

David shrugs awkwardly, kind of wishing he hadn’t said anything. “They’re married, sir.”

“Really?” His brows furrow. “And that’s legal here now?” David nods. “Go figure. Well, good for them.”

Gwen bursts back into the Mess Hall with a scrap of paper, snatching her phone off one of the tables. “Agent Miller?” she says after a moment, and her tone abruptly melts into honey. “It’s Gwen Santos! You know, from Camp Campbell? Yeah, it’s great to hear from you, too! How’s the weather over there?”

The rattling sound of the ladder being drawn back up into the attic startles David, making him jump and glance away from the conversation. He frowns up at the closed trapdoor -- he’s pretty sure Mr. Campbell is telling the truth about his stashes of money, but it’d be nice if he at least tried to help -- then crosses over to the safe in the corner. (It’s empty, of course, but he wants to feel like he’s doing something useful.)

Meanwhile, Gwen’s voice still sounds like it’s made of spun sugar: “Things are wonderful over here! We’re taking good care of everything. Actually, that’s part of why I was calling . . . I noticed Ered’s coming back this summer?” A moment of silence, then a bubbly laugh. “Well, we’re certainly excited to have her here! The thing is . . .”

A few minutes later she ends the call, immediately jumping into the air and spiking her phone into the couch. “That’s how it’s done!” she crows, dancing in a circle. “I -- am -- the -- best!” Each word is punctuated by punching the air, and then she twirls around again.

Her eyes land on David as she finishes spinning. It’s like a bucket of water was dumped on her head -- her shoulders slump, her arms fall to her sides, and it even seems like the brilliant violet of her eyes turns duller. 

“Oh. Hey, David.”

He forces a smile, rising to his feet and wincing as his knees crack. “That sounds like good news!” he says, wondering if there’s a way to tell her he doesn’t mind seeing her happy without it making everything awkward and weird.

She brightens a bit, rescuing her phone from where it lodged itself between the couch cushions. “Yeah. Turns out the Millers are really happy with you for taking care of Campbell all year. They’re Venmo-ing the camp some cash. Probably not enough for most of the stuff we need, but we can cut it down to the essentials.”

“That’s amazing!” He doesn’t entirely know what she accomplished, but it sounds encouraging. “Gwen, you’re incredible!”

She shrugs, her cheeks flushing pink. “Whatever,” she mumbles, then raises her voice almost to a shout. “It’s crazy what great things can happen when you’re not breaking the law all the time!”

Mr. Campbell’s voice is muffled by the closed door: “Give it a rest, Gina!”

Gwen rolls her eyes, but her attempt to look annoyed is dampened slightly by the smile that keeps tugging at the corner of her mouth. “What a dick. Come on, David, let’s get out of here.”

When she emerges from the cabin, dressed like a Camp Campbell counselor for the first time this summer, he looks up from his phone with a smile. “Campe diem, Gwen!” he says, giving her the Camp Campbell salute. Her response is just to shake her head, which is about all he expected. “You look great!”

She gives him a strange look as she slides into the driver’s side of the campmobile. “I look like this all the time, David.”

And she looks great all the time, but he knows better than to say that out loud. “Camp Campbell has a Venmo?” he asks instead (he looked it up while she was getting changed).

“Yes, Brother David. It’s one of those boring grown-up things I did while you were playing in the dirt last summer. No need to thank me.”

Well, she said he doesn’t need to thank her, so he chooses not to. That’s just the kind of thing Gwen does, after all, and once again he wonders how they’d get by if she was able to find a better job.

We’d figure it out, he tells himself, looking out the window as the camp falls behind them. But not this summer.

He has one more year of grace, anyway. 

She’s here, and he might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

---

Even though Gwen says she doesn’t have any rituals, there are a few things that they have to do every summer, the day before all the campers arrive. Inventory coupled with a panicked last-minute shopping trip is one of them. Listening to strange music at earth-shaking volumes on the drive to and from town is another.

“Yeah, girl, it's true, I'm into you, but these benzos, they got me feeling loose --”

David’s tempted to cover his ears -- it cannot be good for his eardrums; he didn’t even know the volume knob went this high! -- but if he does that, he might block out Gwen’s voice. There are very few situations where she’s willing to sing with an audience, and the car ride into town is one of those rare occasions.

He sits back, watching her shimmy her shoulders in time to the music, painting the air with the hand not on the steering wheel in strange gestures that are half conducting and half gang signs --

“Why don't you come through, before I Goku -- fuck this white pill and go super xan!”

-- and decides, like he does every year, that this is worth the risk of moderate hearing loss.

As they pull up in front of the store (despite Gwen’s dire warnings, the street is as empty always), she switches the music off. David tries to convince himself the ringing in his ears is all in his head, and that he isn’t going to suddenly wake up deaf. He mostly succeeds.

“Okay, David.” Gwen stops directly in front of him, putting her hands on his shoulders. It suddenly feels like there’s a snake constricting around his chest, and his next breath stutters and doesn’t seem to pull in enough air. She doesn’t notice, narrowing her eyes at him as though he was one of their poorly-behaved campers. “We have a list.” She waves it between their faces for emphasis.

He swallows, nodding. “We do.”

“We’re sticking to the list.” 

David nods, resisting the urge to laugh. “Of course we are,” he says; he hadn’t intended for his remark to sound sarcastic but can’t be entirely disappointed that it does.

“We’re not buying anything unless it’s on this list, got it?”

“Got it, Gwen!”

“Good.” She takes a step back and punches his arm lightly. “Let’s go, CBFL.”

As he follows her into the store, he couldn’t keep from smiling if he tried.

---

“Wasn’t that fun?”

Gwen groans, shoving the last of the bags into the car (David reminds himself yet again to put his reusable shopping bags in the campmobile so they don’t spend another summer gathering dust under his bed) and slamming the door shut. “Swear to god I’m gonna get a leash for you,” she grumbles, putting her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment before starting the car. “I’ll order one from a kink website or something and you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

He doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s a close thing. “I don’t think that’s necessary . . .”

“Oh, yeah?” She lifts her head to give him a sideways glare. “How many knives did we buy?”

“Two.”

“And how many knives were on the list?”

Okay, she’s made her point. “But Gwen, one of them is specially engineered for whittling!” He digs through the bags until he recovers it, holding it up to her. “I’ve always wanted to try whittling!”

“‘Specially engineered’ is a bullshit term used to sell stuff to idiots, David. And the other one . . .”

“Is . . . well . . .” Okay, so he doesn’t have an exact use for it yet. But he likes being prepared, and it’s important to have tools on-hand. “The box says you could shave with it! Isn’t that cool?”

She taps on the steering wheel impatiently. “Are you planning on shaving with it?” she asks, deadpan.

“No.” But he could.

Gwen snorts, starting the car. “Well, you’re gonna have to explain to the campers why we’re using the same old watered-down paint as last year.” She pulls an imitation of him that’s disturbingly accurate. “‘Golly gee, sorry about that, kids! But look at this cool knife I got instead!’”

That hardly seems fair, but he doesn’t have a good comeback. Knives aren’t cheap, it’s true, and he hates the thought that the camp will suffer because of him. “I mean, when you put it like that . . .” he mutters, looking out the window to avoid her accusing gaze.

There’s a moment of silence. Then her arm lands heavily around his shoulders, pulling him into a sudden half-hug. By the time he’s registered what’s happening, she’s taken her arm back and gently shoved him back to his side of the car. “It’s fine, David,” she says with a sigh, her face slightly pink. “I didn’t have to buy Nights with the Wolf Queen, either.”

He doesn’t point out that a grocery-store paperback is hardly as much of an expense as two wilderness knives, mostly because he doesn’t want her to realize it herself. So he takes the olive branch and smiles at her before reaching to the dashboard and turning the music back on.

Noise explodes through the car, making both of them jump even though they knew it was going to happen. Gwen’s surprise immediately dissolves into delight, and even though she doesn’t thank him outright, she bobs her head and drums on the steering wheel to the beat, and that feels like thanks enough.

“Robbing banks, knock it off! Not saying thanks, knock it off!”

David perks up, tilting his head to hear better (not that he needs to, since the music is currently drilling its way into his skull). “Hey, I like this one!” he says. Why didn’t they start with this song?

Gwen glances at him for a second before returning her eyes to the road, clearly trying not to smile. “Would it even matter if I tell you this is sarcastic?”

It wouldn’t, and they both know it.

---

David takes a step back, holding up his phone and fiddling with the zoom. This is another important part of beginning the season; the supply room will never be this full or tidy for the rest of the summer, and their hard work deserves to be documented before it all gets undone. “Looks perfect!” 

So perfect, in fact, that it needs to be uploaded to Instagram. Right now!

“Yeah?” Gwen huffs, slumping against a pile of unmade tents nearly as tall as they are. She must’ve dragged it out of the shed while he was sharing his photo. “I’m so glad you’re doing the important stuff while I slack off.”

If that’s sarcasm, he chooses to ignore it. “Don’t say that! You’ve done a great job today!” She groans loudly -- so it was sarcasm, good to know -- but takes the other end of the tarp holding all the tents and helps him drag it out to the field. The sun hovers just above the trees, golden-yellow and almost thick enough to touch, and his stomach grumbles as they survey the campgrounds. “Do you want to have dinner first, or . . .”

“Fuck that.” She grabs a tent and slings it over her shoulder. Her face and neck glisten with sweat, and she impatiently brushes the strands of hair that’ve escaped her ponytail out of her face. She looks unkempt and beautiful, like a lumberjack, or a viking. “If I sit down, I won’t be able to get back up. Let’s just finish this shit.”

Her language leaves a little to be desired, but her logic is sound. The tents are meant to be put up by and for children, so they aren’t too difficult to set up, but most of them have taken damage between the last summer and storage, so the process keeps stalling to fix broken rods and quick-sew patches over holes in the fabric (David’s job, mostly; Gwen isn’t much of a seamstress). The air is a gloomy indigo by the time they finish, cooling down just enough to make their sweat-damp clothes miserable. “Why don’t you take the first shower?” he offers as they walk back. “I’ll start dinner.”

“My hero,” she quips, veering off toward the counselors’ cabin. David shrugs off his discomfort and exhaustion, forcing a skip into his step as he heads into the Mess Hall.

This is their final ritual before the campers arrive tomorrow, and he wants everything to be perfect.

---

“Okay.” Gwen groans, rolling her shoulders; there are some ominous pops and cracks, but she doesn’t look like she’s dislocated anything so David assumes everything’s fine. “I’ll admit, this is exactly what I needed.”

“Hmm?” He cups his free hand around his ear, gently twirling his stick over the fire. As much as he wants to look over at Gwen, he has to keep his attention on roasting his hot dog. The last thing he wants is to deal with another exploded dinner. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

She snorts and throws a marshmallow at his head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“No, I’m just not sure I heard you correctly! Because it sounded like maybe you were saying you were wrong about something --”

“Very cute,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.

“-- and that, consequently, I was right!” He grins at her, removing his (cooked to perfection) hot dog from the fire and transferring it to a bun.

“Sounds like you’re saying you wanna be hit in the face with a flaming hot dog, Greenwood.”

He leans forward and gently takes the stick from her hand, saving her food from its fiery doom. “I just think it’s swell that you’re willing to admit when you’re wrong, Gwen.”

“Give that back! It’s not done cooking.”

“It’s overcooking!”

“And that’s how I like it!” She snatches back her stick and holds it to the center of the flames, shooting him a defiant glare. A moment later there’s a loud pop; they throw themselves to the ground to avoid the burning shrapnel of the exploded hot dog, which light up the air like fireworks before sizzling harmlessly out in the dirt.

They both sit up, brushing themselves off, and take their seats around the campfire again. David waits a minute before saying, “This might be another good opportunity to practice owning up to your mistakes.”

She shoves his shoulder, laughing. “Let’s see you do it better.”

He does, knowing and not caring that she’s gotten him to do all the work for her. The fire is a lovely contrast to the chilly night, and he feels warm and glowing all over.

After dinner they crowd themselves into one of the campers’ tents, rolling out sleeping bags on the floor next to the child-sized cots. Gwen sprawls out across hers, stretching like a cat. “Hell of a last supper.”

He knows what she means, but he isn’t comfortable sharing her dread over three months of meals cooked by the Quartermaster. At least, not out loud. Instead he crawls back outside, recovering the two steaming mugs he pilfered from the Mess Hall and bringing them into the tent. “Here you go!”

She sits up and takes the hot chocolate, curling both hands around it despite the heat. “Well, since I’m apparently on a roll here,” she says, taking a sip and sighing happily, “I guess I have to admit that this is a really good way to start the summer.”

David quickly takes a drink as well, hiding his smile behind the mug. “So I was right about that as well?”

“Okay, don’t milk it,” she snaps, but there’s no real malice in her voice. She leans back against one of the cots, wincing at the screech of metal shifting, and tilts her head up to the ceiling, as though she can see through the fabric to the stars beyond. “I had a lot of fun today,” she says after a moment. Setting her drink to the side, she tugs the elastic out of her ponytail; in the white light of their lantern, with her hair falling in loose, fluffy waves down to her shoulders, she looks soft and almost ethereal, like a princess in a fairy tale. “Thanks, David.”

She meets his eyes, the light turning them a silvery lavender, and looking at her is suddenly too much so he turns his attention to his drink. “No problem, CBFL,” he says, taking a deep breath and wishing his heart wasn’t beating so fast. He opens his mouth to say something else but it turns out there’s nothing else he has to say so he shuts it again, feeling stupid.

For a few minutes they’re quiet, drinking their hot chocolate in companionable silence. At least, David hopes it’s companionable -- he’s not exactly sure how to measure companionableness, but it seems friendly enough so he’s going to do his best not to overthink it. That’s what Gwen would tell him, he knows, and she has a degree in psychology so she definitely knows what she’s talking about more than he does.

Thank goodness he’s not talking out loud; it’s embarrassing enough that he’s babbling in his own mind . . . oh no, what if he has been talking out loud this entire time? What has he said?!

“David?” His gaze snaps up to her, but she doesn’t look annoyed or creeped out so he probably hasn’t been saying anything too weird, at least, and probably hasn’t been talking out loud at all so that’s good but her expression is alarmingly serious and she hasn’t said anything else and it’s been at least ten seconds that they’ve just been looking at each other but he’s not sure what she wants so -- “Let me know if I’m reading this wrong.”

“Reading?” he manages weakly. He feels strangely disconnected from his body as he watches her set her mug aside and cross the small space to kneel in front of him. Her hand alights on his shoulder, fluttery and weightless as a hummingbird, and she seems a little close and a lot beautiful and if he’s not extremely careful she’s going to figure out all the things he’s put so much work into not letting her figure out -- try not to feel at all, but it’s hard to keep his composure and not look at her mouth when it’s so close and there’s no camp activities or pre-camp activities or post-camp activities to distract them both with, just quiet and breathing and soft white lantern light and her hand on his shoulder, and he’s always considered himself able to multitask pretty well but this feels like too much so he squeezes his eyes shut . . .

The kiss takes him entirely by surprise. One moment he’s bracing himself for a confrontation, questions he doesn’t know how to answer, and the next moment is filled with Gwen -- her lips soft and slightly chapped against his and her fingers tightening on his shoulder and the coconutty smell of her shampoo all around him and he’s a little worried that he’s having a heart attack but gosh, jeez, fuck it, he kisses her back.

And she doesn’t shove him away or demand to know what in the name of fun he thinks he’s doing; she lets out a weak little huff of air that lands somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, her mouth opens just slightly, and she shifts forward, her arms twining over his shoulders. One hand slides into his hair, the gentle scrape of her fingernails shivering from his scalp down his spine, and it occurs to him that he can touch her as well, that he’s not only apparently allowed but actually probably should. Slowly, both so she has plenty of him to stop him and in a futile attempt to stop his fingers from shaking, he lifts his hand to her neck, gingerly cupping around the base of her head and running his thumb along the space behind her ear. She gasps against his lips, but she doesn’t pull away so he assumes it’s a good gasp and repeats the motion, and when her tongue flicks against his bottom lip like a question he opens his mouth, because he’s never been very good at saying no to her for anything and he sure as sugar has no intention of starting now.

David’s not sure how much time passes before she pulls back, but even though he feels cold and bereft everywhere they’re no longer touching it’s probably for the best, because he doesn’t realize how lightheaded he is until he opens his eyes and has to wait for the world to shudder into place. She sits on her heels, biting her lower lip; he lets his hand fall away from her, and in a second they’re disconnected, apart.

“Well.” She chuckles weakly, tucking her hair behind her ears. “That was . . .”

A mistake, his brain finishes, and his stomach drops in miserable anticipation.

In fact, he’s so prepared for those devastating words that he almost misses what she actually says: “unexpected, huh?”

It takes him a moment to register that, to recalibrate, so his response is a bit too late, just a little bit awkward: “I -- definitely didn’t see it coming.”

“That’s because your eyes were closed,” she says with a grimace, like she regrets the lame joke even before she’s finished saying it; but it melts so seamlessly into a smile, small and self-conscious and unexpected and perfect, that he forgets what words are, let alone that he’s supposed to say some to continue the conversation.

With a nervous glance at him, Gwen scuttles back to her side of the tent, picking up her mug of hot chocolate. 

“Sorry, was that totally inappropriate?” she asks, responding before he can. “I mean, of course it was, you’re technically my boss, I don’t know what -- I just thought I was -- there were some signals -- weren’t there? Was that . . . okay?”

The enormous stupidity of the question finally surprises him into speaking. “Okay? That was . . .” the best thing that’s ever happened in my life. “Very. Okay -- it was completely okay. Better than okay, it was . . . you know, good. Nice. I’m going to stop talking now.”

Her smile widens, visible even as she covers her mouth with one hand. “Really?” she says, suddenly like she’s blurting it out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He’s so sure that he shuffles forward on his knees, most likely looking like a total idiot, until he’s in front of her again. He doesn’t have the courage to kiss her so he takes one of her hands, turning it over and examining how beautiful it is, how lovely it looks contrasted with his pale fingers. He strokes the backs of her knuckles, marveling at how soft her skin is even after a day of hard work, and tries to remember how to breathe.

Gwen puts her other hand under his chin, forcing him to look up, and kisses him again.

It’s a bit less gentle than the first time, both her mouth and her fingers hot and insistent as they press against him, and he loses his balance, falling onto his back with a small yelp of surprise. She follows him down without breaking the kiss, lowering herself to her elbows and covering his body with hers. He’s distantly aware of a dull ceramic clunk, but he doesn’t really take notice of what it means until a few moments later, when something lukewarm and wet seeps into the hem of his pajama pants.

“Shit!” She rolls off of him, righting the mug of no-longer-hot chocolate and scrambling for the napkins left over from dinner. “Fuck, it’s everywhere.”

He tugs her sleeping bag away from the spill, but it’s already soaked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to knock it over!”

She shakes her head, sitting back and surveying the damage. “No, I think I did it. It’s fine, the dirt’ll soak it up. But it’s gonna bring ants, so we’re going to have to give this tent to the campers we hate the most. I vote Max.”

“Gwen!” He can’t quite make that sound as disapproving as he should. He scoops up the wet napkins and drags her wet sleeping bag outside. “I’ll go put this in the wash right now.”

She glances at her watch, then back up at him. “It’s almost midnight, David. I’m not staying up until that’s clean, it’ll take all night.”

He knows she’s right -- the machine they rely on for the camp’s laundry is the same one they’ve had since he was a junior counselor, and runs extremely slowly -- and disappointment makes his shoulders slump. “We can sleep in the cabin, then. That’s no problem.”

When he returns from the laundry, yawning, Gwen isn’t in the counselors’ cabin like he expected. She’s not by the dying embers of the campfire, or in the tent. The sleeping bag, it turns out, isn’t in there either, nor are the lantern and the mugs of hot chocolate. He opens his mouth to whisper-call her name (it’s spooky with the fire out) --

“David!”

He jumps, covering his mouth to muffle a noise that was definitely not a scream, and turns to see Gwen leaning out of one of the other campers’ tents, half-hidden by shadows. She gestures him over and disappears back into the tent.

Shaking off his alarm, he ducks inside to see Gwen bundled up in the sleeping bag on the ground, with the other supplies well out of reach. “Oh,” he says, not sure exactly what he’s looking at. “Um, should I . . . sleep on one of the cots?” It’d be uncomfortable, but he’d rather shiver through a night curled up on a too-small bed than go back to the cabin alone.

She rolls her eyes at him and wriggles to the side, unzipping the bag halfway. “Get in before you let all the warm out.”

Oh. His face flushes hot and he has to look down at his feet for a moment to compose himself.

Well, he’s hardly going to refuse, is he?

It’s a bit of a close fit, but he manages to slide in alongside her. She turns onto her side, slinging one arm over his waist and resting her cheek on his shoulder. “Is this okay?” she mumbles, already sounding like she’s halfway to falling asleep.

He has to swallow twice before he can answer. “Y-yes. This is fine.” He can already tell that it’ll get unbearably warm soon -- Gwen’s pressed against his side and radiating heat like a furnace -- but her weight on his chest is solid and comforting and he knows he won’t be moving an inch until the sun rises, not unless she tells him to.

She’s quiet for long enough that he thinks she’s fallen asleep.

“Sorry.”

It’s so soft he freezes in the darkness, trying to figure out if that was his imagination or not. When she lifts her head, nothing more than a black vaguely-Gwen-shaped blob, he recovers and says, “Why?”

“I know this whole pre-summer hot chocolate thing is really important to you. It kinda sucks that I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything!” He sits up on his elbows, tentatively reaching out to stroke her hair. His fingertips brush against her forehead and she ducks slightly, letting him pet her hair without poking an eye out. “I know it hasn’t exactly started yet,” he says, flopping back down so she can rest her head on his shoulder again, “but I think this might be the best summer ever.”

“You say that every summer.”

He smiles up at nothing. “And I mean it every summer.”

There’s silence for a moment, then he feels her press a light kiss against his neck. “Call me optimistic, but you might be onto something this year, anyway.”

“Wow,” he says, blowing out a huff of air. “Admitting I’m right three times in one day. I hope it doesn’t keep up like this or I’ll get a swelled head!”

He doesn’t have to see her face to know she’s glaring at him, and that small knowledge makes him indescribably happy. “No danger of that happening.”

“I know.” It’s one of his favorite things about her.

Her breathing evens out as she falls asleep, soft and slightly nasal. It’s another sound he associates with his time spent at Camp Campbell, although never so close, never with her hair tickling his cheek and her hand splayed over his heart like she’s protecting it. He’s used to letting her breathing lull him to sleep from across the room -- but he thinks he could get used to this, if he has the chance.

(He’d like the chance to get used to this.)

David closes his eyes and enjoys the last moments of peace they have, before the kids arrive and the camp explodes into a delightful frenzy of sound and chaos.

Let the summer begin.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 7: Forget Everything You Know]

Hi y’all! I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all so much for reading and for showing me and my fics some love. You better believe that I see EVERY. SINGLE. reblog, comment, tag, and message, and they mean the absolute world to me! I know that a lot of content creators are frustrated and taking breaks right now, but rest assured you will not be able to get rid of me if even a SINGLE person looks forward to something I write. I’ll finish this fic (eventually), and I’ll finish the next one too (it already has a name!), and I won’t disappear or leave the Queen/BoRhap fandom at any point in the foreseeable future. Lots of love to you all, stay safe, and I hope you enjoy! 💜 💜 💜

Chapter summary: Y/N brings home some friends; Brian attempts an intervention; John draws a line; Roger gets an answer.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“Smile, everyone!” Your dad peeks through the viewfinder of the Canon F-1 and beams. “One...two...three...say Queen!”

“Queen!” you all shout gleefully. The flash illuminates the dining room, and you blink away momentary blindness. The table materializes back into vision: lobsters, clams, haddock chowder, sourdough bread, fried oysters, pierogis with Vermont cheddar cheese, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes...and, of course, Boston cream pie for dessert.

“Ah, perfection,” your dad sighs contently. “Please continue, Mr. Mercury.”

“Mr. Mercury!” Brian whines, incredulous. “Like he’s got a bloody PhD or something!”

Freddie cracks a lobster claw. He hasn’t taken his sunglasses or wrist-full of clanging bangles off all afternoon. Your parents are profoundly confused by him, but welcoming nonetheless. “I’m a professor of lusciousness. Pay attention and you could learn something.”

Brian rolls his eyes and dunks a hunk of sourdough bread into his chowder.

“So,” Freddie tells your mother between bites of lobster dripping with drawn butter. “Our darling damsel in distress was in the clutches of that horrid, dodgy wanker when none other than our very own Roger Meddows Taylor—”

“You weren’t even there!” Brian protests. “I wasn’t even there! This is, what, a third-hand account?!”

“Eat your soup, peasant. Thank you. Anyway, our beloved Roger comes raging out of nowhere, red-faced, nostrils flaring, a terrifying sight to behold, grabs this guy by his hair and slams his despicable face directly into a marble column. Broken nose, cracked orbital socket, blood everywhere! It was magnificent. I’ve never been more proud.”

“Good for you!” your mother cheers, patting the back of Roger’s hand encouragingly. He smiles at her, warmly, radiantly, like the wildfire he’s always reminded you of. And you marvel at how every human on this earth is made of the same fundamental components—blood and muscles and vessels and nerves, hearts and enigmatic brain matter and ribs, vulnerable parts, armored parts, all webbed together like nature’s own organic circuit board—and yet the marks they leave on you can feel so different: burns, scars, bruises, shadows, imprints that are deep enough to brush bone and never fade.

“Mom, the guy could have died!”

“Did he?” she asks innocently.

“Nope,” Roger says.

“Well then, Mr. Taylor here is a hero in my book.”

“Mr. Taylor!” Brian groans.

“I was petrified he would turn out to be the son of an executive or producer or something and the band would be ruined,” you say. “Fortunately he was just someone’s annoying frat brother from college who already had a reputation for being a sleazebag. So, we were in luck.”

“You were in luck that Mr. Taylor was there,” your mother points out, gazing at him dreamily. This delightful English boy is going to be my son-in-law and give me gorgeous, doe-eyed grandchildren, that look says.

“Yes, a literal superhero,” John says ruefully, sipping a Manhattan. Your dad has a passionate love for mixing cocktails, especially for guests who also happen to be rock stars.

“Mom. Don’t make his ego any bigger, please. I’m begging you.”

Roger snarls around a mouthful of Boston cream pie, sending your mom into a fit of giggles.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, dear.” She smooths your hair. “And that you have people to keep you safe all the way over there across the ocean, and that you’re happy.”

“Yes, your work environment is much improved, isn’t it?” Brian says. “That supervisor you had at the hospital was an absolute bear!”

Your dad strokes his short grey beard. “Well...” he admits. “That may have been my fault.”

Brian’s brow crinkles. “Really?”

Your mom turns to you. “You didn’t tell them?!”

“Oh, is there a scandalous backstory?” Freddie inquires, elated. “Do tell, darling!”  

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far far away—just kidding, it was here in Boston—my archnemesis Patricia and my dad dated.”

Roger drops his fork, appalled. “No!”

Freddie’s nose wrinkles in revulsion. “Why?!”

Your dad rocks back in his chair and laughs loudly, heartily. “She wasn’t always so cantankerous, if you can believe it. She was a sweet girl, wonderful even. But then I met my future wife, and...” He smirks guiltily. “What can I say? The heart wants what it wants!”

You nod along. “And I got the illustrious honor of being an outlet for the frustration stemming from Patricia’s lifelong unrequited love.”

“You saucy minx!” Freddie playfully lashes your mom’s shoulder with a cloth napkin. “Homewrecker!”

She chuckles, not the least bit offended. “People get together under all sorts of strange circumstances, and you know what? You can’t wreck a home if the home wasn’t already half-wrecked before you got there, that’s what I think.”

Roger raises his Patriot’s Punch. “I’ll drink to that.”

Brian clutches his New England Express, bewildered. “Are we...toasting to infidelity?”

“Oh, does that horrify you?” Rog asks sarcastically. Brian grimaces, but dutifully raises his glass.

“We’re toasting to love,” your dad clarifies. “However it comes, as long as it’s true.”

John holds his Manhattan aloft. “To love.”

Freddie clinks his Flying Elvis against the other beverages, including your parents’ wine glasses and your Cranberry Crush. “Cheers!” Then Fred glances at the clock and swiftly polishes off his slice of Boston cream pie.

“Can’t you all stay a little longer?” your mom pleads, collecting plates and gazing longingly at Roger. “This has been so much fun...”

“They have soundcheck at seven, Mom. We have to leave for the stadium soon.”

“Well, before you jet off to your next adventure, can I treat anyone to a long distance call?” your dad asks.

Brian perks up. “Really?!” You know there’s a ring in the future for Chrissie; not an expensive or extravagant ring (not that Chris would want that anyway), but a ring nonetheless. You know because Brian has taken you shopping to help him choose one.

“Of course! You can use the phone in my office. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. I’m sure there are some lovely ladies back in jolly old England who would be over the moon to hear from you.”

“That would be very much appreciated!” Brian says. “And thank you so much, this has been such a treat, you have no idea how long it’s been since we had a proper homemade meal.”

“I had to rehabilitate the reputation of us Yankees, didn’t I? Now come on, Mr. May, I’ll show you to the office...”

“Mr. May...I like the sound of that!”

“Ten minutes, Bri!” Freddie calls, following them down the hallway. “Then it’s my turn...!”

You begin gathering up the empty glasses, but Roger promptly snatches them away. “No way, Boston babe. You go relax. I’ll help your mom.”

“I think she’s in love with you.”

He grins. “Do you have a secret stepdaddy fetish I could exploit?”

“Oh my god. Roger.”

He snickers and sweeps off into the kitchen. It’s only then that you realize John has disappeared. You check the kitchen, the living room, the hallway, the study, and finally the front porch; John is standing outside in the cold, smoking and watching the setting sun. The sky is threaded with cerulean, rust orange, lavender, indigo. You pull on your coat and go out to join him.

“We’ll make it to Florence one of these days,” you promise John, resting your arms on the wooden, white-painted porch railing. Your mother hung baskets of fresh flowers for the band’s visit, which swing lazily in the breeze. “Crank out a few more hits and we’ll get the record company to add it to the tour itinerary.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“Are you going to call Veronica?”

He shrugs, frowns, exhales a lungful of smoke into frigid New England air. “I don’t know if I should.”

“You don’t think she’d like that?” you ask, confounded.

“I think she might like it too much.”

“Ohhhhh.” You read his soft greyish eyes, which are faraway and somber, sad even. “I’m sorry, John. You know she’s wild about you.”

“I know it.” He takes a drag off his cigarette. “She’s the first person who ever was, actually. The first person who ever noticed me. Came up to me out of the blue at a disco and asked me to dance, me! So I said yes, like you do when you’re the guy nobody notices. And then I said yes again, and again, and again, until one day I realized...oh, this girl thinks we’re getting married. When the hell did that happen?”

“I noticed you,” you contest.  

John chuckles and nods. “You did,” he agrees. “Right away. Tried to win me over when I was too nervous to finish a sentence around you. But that was long after I’d met Veronica.”

“Well, you can’t break up with her tonight. On Valentine’s Day?! That would be traumatic.”

“Agreed.”

“We’ll have a few days in London between the American and Asian legs of the tour. You can think it over and decide what to do then. I’m happy to arrange the getaway taxi if that’s something that interests you.”

“Yeah.” Again, he peers out into the Western horizon, into rising stars.

“John?”

Now he looks to you. He’s a little too thoughtful, too low. There’s something you’re not seeing.

“...Is there somebody else?”

He doesn’t speak; he just stares at you with those velvety azure-grey eyes, drums his fingers against the railing, lets the ash from his cigarette crumble into the snow-dusted Blue Pacific Junipers.

Roger barrels through the front door and out onto the porch. “There you are, Deaks! I thought we were going to have to find a new bassist. Enlist Nurse Nightingale’s mum or something.”

John smirks and crushes the rest of his cigarette in your father’s ashtray. “I suspect you’d do just fine without me.”

“Oh no. No way. Not happening.”

“That’s kind of you,” John says, unconvinced.

“Here, I’ll prove it.” Rog holds out his calloused hand. “If you ever leave, I leave too. Come on, Deaks, shake on it. It’s official. It’s a pact. There’s no Queen without John Deacon.”

Reluctantly, trying not to show how pleased he is, John shakes. “Alright.”

Roger grins triumphantly. “Signed, sealed, delivered. You’re ours for life, baby.”

“Deaky, do you want the phone?!” Freddie yells from inside the house.

John sighs and exchanges a knowing glance with you. “I guess I should say hi.”

“Okay, but quickly!” Rog presses. “We gotta go!”

“So bossy...” John ducks inside; and Roger, though he’s not wearing anything over his pale pink button-up shirt—sufficiently sophisticated to impress your parents—comes to the porch railing to join you.

“You’re not staying out here, are you?” You eye his thin shirt worriedly, the goosebumps rising over his collarbones, his bare forearms where he rolled up his sleeves to help your mom wash the dishes.

He tosses you a mischievous wink. “I’ve got no one to call.”

Roger looks up at the hanging baskets of flowers, plucks out a cerise carnation, and offers it to you. You mean to say something witty, something sardonic, something that will make him laugh; but all your words vanish into cold February air. You take the carnation, smiling helplessly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Roger whispers.

You just let me know if you ever change your mind, okay?

Okay.

He turns to go back inside the house.

I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him.

Then Roger pauses in the doorway. “You coming, Boston babe? I can’t have you catching pneumonia or something. I won’t know how to fix you.”

Oh, you realize, with horror and yet relief, all those grueling lies stripped away. It’s too late.

~~~~~~~~~~

You knock on the frame of the dressing room door. “Hi Bri!”

He glances over from where he sits in front of the mirror, rimming his eyes with inky liner. Soundcheck went swimmingly, and now Queen has thirty minutes until they need to be onstage. You can hear the disembodied reverberation of voices from the waiting crowd through the walls. “Hello, love. Come in.”

“Freddie said you needed to see me. Did you rip a sleeve or something? I brought my kit—”

“No, it’s not that.” He pats the chair beside him. The boys practically always get ready together before a show, but you suspect profoundly introverted Brian is experiencing one of his post-socialization crashes after dinner with your parents. Something about him is tired, very tired, almost drained to empty. “Join me.”

“Sure,” you say cautiously. You shove your medical kit onto the countertop and then reach to feel his forehead. “Are you feeling alright...?”

“I’m fine, love. I just have a favor to ask.”

“Anything.”

Brian sighs deeply, sets down the eyeliner, swivels his chair towards you. “I need you to promise me that you’re not going to start seeing Roger.”

You titter, deflecting, brushing Brian’s hair away from his troubled, angular face. “Well, as the official Queen touring nurse, I see him quite a lot.”

Brian catches your wrist. “I’m being serious.”

Now your brow knits into tight agitated lines. “I’m curious as to why you think that’s something you have a say in.”

“Bloody hell, I’m not trying to offend you—”

“Job well done.”

“Dear, please, listen to me—”

“Eight months,” you hiss through your teeth as you tear away from him. “For eight months I’ve listened and avoided and resisted and ignored and it’s not going away.”

“Oh, fuck,” Brian breathes in despair. “You love him.”

There are tears biting in the periphery of your vision; you don’t want them to be there, but they are. Your voice is hoarse and trembling. “Bri, please don’t.”

Brian shakes his head and motions with his hands frenetically, desperately, trying to make you understand. “Look, sometimes...sometimes the people we love, the people who own us, the people who fucking set us on fire...they’re not the people we end up with. And that’s not always a bad thing. It’s necessary. It’s self-preservation. Because sometimes the people who set us on fire would burn us alive.”

You gape at him, furious, stunned. “That’s just fantastic, Brian. You’re a true romantic. Jesus christ, does Chrissie know about this? Is that why you’re with her, because she’s, what...safe?!”

“No, that’s not fair, Chrissie’s great, she’s steady and supportive and she’ll make a wonderful mother one day, and my parents adore her—”

“Those aren’t reasons to marry someone, Brian!”

“They are!” He leaps to his feet. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! You have to think about these things, you have to be rational, you have to protect yourself—”

“Why the fuck do you care?” you flare bitterly.

“Because you saved my life.”

“Stop it, I didn’t.”

“You did, I truly believe that. And I want you to stay with the band. And I want you to be happy. But, dear, please, I’m begging you...this is not the way to do it.”

“I’m not going to go out to some pub and drag home a random guy who’s suitably passionless and predictable enough to be Brian-May-approved.”

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do—”

“Because you’re such an expert on relationships!” you shout, exasperated. “Planning to propose to Chris while you’re still secretly pining over some fling from New Orleans, fucking groupies and then having the nerve to mope around guilt-ridden the next morning as if anyone but you was responsible for that decision, and do I say anything about it?! Do I ever say a single fucking word about it to you, or Fred, or Roger, or your future wife, or anybody?! No, because it’s not my life!”

The dressing room door flies open and John storms inside. “What’s going on?!”

You cross your arms and stare at the floor. Brian’s wide green eyes flick to John, to you, back to John. If it was Freddie, Brian would tell him in a second, would try to enlist him in the effort, and it would probably work; but John is a different story. John won’t side with Brian over you, everybody knows that. And John has a talent for sharpening words into blades. “Um. Nothing.”  

“I could hear you in the hallway,” John says flatly. “Obviously it wasn’t nothing.”

Brian points to you. “Have you tried to talk her out of this? Maybe you should, maybe she’d listen.”

“It’s not my choice to make, just like it isn’t yours. Worry about your own body count. It seems to be growing exponentially these days.”

Brian scoffs. “Because you’d be so thrilled if she ended up with him, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” you demand.

Brian and John glare at each other from across the room. John raises his eyebrows, daring Bri to answer. Brian gnaws his lower lip, but doesn’t elaborate. The air is heavy, tense, electrified.  

“Don’t upset her again,” John says darkly.

Brian shows the white palms of his hands in surrender. “Fine.”

John waves for you to follow him. “Come on.” And he slams the door behind you as you both escape into the hallway.

“I’m sorry.” You chase away stray tears with the back of your hands. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get anyone worked up right before the show...”

“Don’t worry about it. I treasure any excuse to harass Brian.”

You study him, seeking answers, seeking more than you know how to put into words. “Do you think I’m being stupid? If you do, you can tell me.”

“No,” John responds carefully. “I think you’re being hopeful. And I’d like to believe that stupidity and hopefulness are two very different things.”

You smile. “I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s very inaccurate.” He fluffs his hair with his fingertips. “Do you want to touch it before we go on stage?”

You feign demureness. “Hmm...”

“Oh come on. You know you want to. It’s extra voluminous right now, Roger shared some of his magical mousse or whatever. Something way too expensive. You should thoroughly berate him for it.”

You laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.” You comb your hands through his brunette hair, and John’s right; it’s extraordinarily full and soft, and smells like honeysuckles. “You always know how to get me smiling, don’t you?”

“You do insist that I have game. Though I remain skeptical.”

“Good luck tonight. Not that you need it.”

John’s rough thumb lifts your chin, then whisks away a tear you missed. “You’ll be watching, right?”

“I always am.” And that’s the truth; you haven’t missed a Queen show since you met them.

He beams, those gentle grey eyes incandescent. “Then we’ll have an ocean of luck.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Exactly twenty-four hours later, Queen is in New York City.

The thunderous bassline of the opening act shudders through the concrete walls. You’re staring yourself down in the bathroom mirror under harsh florescent lights, your palms gripping the cold rim of a white sink, your eyes shimmering with black and gold shadow, your lip gloss slick and crimson. There’s not a single thing left to do. You’re running out of time.

You breathe in, breathe out, snatch your purse off the floor, breeze out into the hallway.

You can hear the boys’ laughter even before you open the dressing room door. Inside, Brian is tuning his Red Special with his mantis-like legs propped up on the countertop, John is attempting to teach Freddie how to make popcorn in a microwave without setting anything on fire, Roger is scrutinizing his hair in the mirror and frowning as he rearranges it with a comb.  

“Hello, darling!” Freddie warbles. “Can I interest you in some delicious and expertly-prepared popcorn?” He opens the microwave, and smoke pours out. “Oh, you bitch!”

“I’ll pass, Freddie.” You glide to where Roger is sitting, knot your fingers through his blond hair, and tug his head back so you can kiss him. He tastes like mint gum and the ghost of smoke and reckless intemperance; he tastes like everything you’ve ever wanted. There are gasps, and surely dropped jaws as well; but you don’t have eyes for them. “Okay,” you tell Roger.

He stares up at you with huge, starry eyes, a dazed grin slowly lighting up his face. “You changed your mind.”

“Come find me after the show.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You move to wipe your blood-red gloss from his lips, but Roger stops you, knits his hand through yours, stands to meet you.

“Leave it,” he murmurs. “I want them to know.”  

“Want them to know...?”

His lips touch yours again, smiling and scorching and ravenous. “That I’m yours.”