#opening the door to his home while invisible to avoid conversation with this guy who hurt his feelings once and yeah more stuff

[metukika]

post canon/future teru... single mother with no children idk

[americaswritings]

Invisible

Warnings: Angst, Insecurity & Self-doubt, Language

Summary: The reader stays with Tom and his friends during quarantine. To protect her from media and fans, the reader can’t been seen in any social media posts. It leads to her feeling more and more lonely and isolated until she can’t take it anymore.

Words: 2.6k 

Pairings: Tom Holland x reader

A/N: I wrote this when Tom hosted the marvel pub quiz, but completely forgot to post it!

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"That's it. Thank you for joining and taking part in the quiz! I hope you had as much fun as we did and don't forget to post your answers using the hashtag massive marvel pub quiz so we can find your answers easier. Stay safe and healthy. Bye guys!"

You watched as Tom's face disappeared and the live stream ended.

But the excitement that you had felt when you had first heared of the idea of a marvel quiz was gone. Now you just felt empty. And alone.

You knew that you were overreacting, after all Tom and the others were just a few rooms away, but you couldn't help and feel left out. Again.

You weren't invited to join the live stream in the first place so why join them know?

You knew that Tom only wanted to protect you and himself by keeping you out of the public's eye. If they found out that a female in his age was spending the time during quarantine at his house, they would go wild. You could already imagine the headlines that would follow.

After all Tom had exerperienced how far his ‘fans’ and the media would go when a photo of him and Olivia had gone viral.

Only a few blurry images and both Tom and Olivia had been attacked for weeks, even so far that the girl had to make her instagram private, yet the hate comments never stopped.

And Tom knew that he would never risk the chance of you having to read through pages of hate comments of people that didn't even know you. Because if they did, they knew they could never hate you.

You were kind and loving and you cared a little too deeply.

Tom still remembered when you had called him crying, because you didn't feel confident enough to go out after some girls in your class had made it their mission to target all your insecurities and make mean comments whenever you passed them.

He still remembered the anger and hate he felt inside of him when he listened to your sobbing and how the girl's words had gotten to you, to the point you even believed them.

So when you had moved in with him and the boys, he had decided to keep you out of everything that could reveal to the world that you were living with them. You had agreed without a second doubt, because in that moment it seemed the only rational and responsible thing to do.

Now you weren't so sure anymore, because it hurt so much to be invisible every day. You had gotten used to the fact that you could only watch their instagram stories, live streams and tik toks without being able to join them. But what hurt you even more were the little things.

"Hey y/n, could you leave the room for a sec? You are always in the background of the video!"

A second often turned into hours and soon you found yourself retreating to your room more and more to avoid having to leave and get hurt again.

Yesterday you had decided to do a little game night and you felt so carefree that you came to the conclusion that you were being ridiculous and should rather enjoy the time with them instead of obsessing over your feelings. But then you had laughed over something that had been said and Tom has sighed, dropping his phone.

"Great, now I have to delete that, because you were laughing in the background", he stated, clearly frustrated and you felt heat rushing to your cheeks.

"I'm sorry", you mumbled but it sounded more like a question than a sincere apologzy, because really, what where you even apologizing for? Harrsion had leaned over to get a better look at Tom's phone. "That would have been a great post, mate!"

You adverted your eyes, starring at the table and analysing the natural pattern of the wood to try and distract yourself from the embarassment and the tears that had filled your eyes. "I know right", Tom sighed again and you crounched down in your seat even more.

"I will do that again now so you have to be completely quiet now y/n, got it?

You wanted to scream at them, because you weren't dumb and yet they were treating you like a child that had misbehaved and was now lectured. But you only gulped and nodded, fearing that if you said something, your voice would break and reveal how hurt you really felt.

While they recorded the story again, you listened to their loud laughter as you fought back the tears.

Eventually you excued yourself, mumbling something about having a headache, but you doubted that they even noticed.

Now you could hear them laugh again and even though Tom's laugh was one of your favorite sounds, it now cut deeper into your heart like a knife. 

You were still staring at your phone screen where you saw photos of answer sheets already popping up. You had gotten around 20 answers right, but you didn't feel proud.

When Tom had told you about the marvel quiz you had been beyond excited. Since you could remember you loved the marvel movies. Your rooms had been filled with posters and other merchandise and your friends only rolled their eyes when you suggested to watch a marvel movie during your movie nights.

You had build your knowdlege over the years and loved to challenge Tom, who thought of himself as a big marvel fan as well, regarding who knew more about the marvel cinematic universe.

So when he came up with the idea of a marvel live quiz, you insisted to take part and therefore hear the questions for the first time during the stream so you had the same chance as everyone else.

But as soon as Harry and Harrison had joined the live stream your enthusiasm had faded. They were having so much fun and you were sitting in your room, all on your own. The familiar feeling of loneliness and self doubt had accompained you the rest of the live stream and now that it had ended you just wanted to crawl under the covers and weep into your pillow.

Maybe you were clingy and needy and overthinking again, but you couldn't help the overwhelming sadness and you began to doubt if staying with Tom was a mistake and if your friendship meant more to you than the others.

Maybe you should pack your things tomorrow and tell Tom that you needed to go home. He would understand if you claimed to miss the comfort of being at your home but then again, you would be even more lonely.

Frustrated you threw your phone on the nightstand and quickly changed into your pajamas before crawling into bed.

In the darkness of the room the disappointment felt even more overwhelming and you grabbed onto your pillow for comfort.

A knock made you freeze and your heart started pouding in your chest. You prayed that the person would leave you alone and go away if you pretended to be asleep so you stayed silent.

"Y/n?"

It was Tom's voice.

"We want to watch a movie. Wanna join us?"

You knew that he wouldn't go away until the got an answer so you dismissed your plan and braced yourself to speak.

"No, I am tired, but thanks." You hoped that Tom didn't notice how nervous you sounded and after an agonizing moment of silence you could hear him mutter an "okay" and walk away.

Did you imagine it or did he sound disapppointed? Now feeling guilty too, you covered your face in your hands in frustration.

Why did everything have to go wrong?

And wait...did you still have your make-up on?

You let out a sound of frustration when you realized that you had to get up again to wipe off your make-up. You had applied it because you wanted to feel your best during the quiz you had been so excited for, but now it meant walking all the way to the bathroom.

Which meant leaving your room again.

You slowly opened your door, peeking out to check if the corridors were empty. You proceeded to tiptoe to the bathroom and closed the door behind you while relief flooded you. You really didn't want to meet anyone now, not when you felt like breaking into tears every second.

When you looked into the mirror and began to wash your make-up off, you allowed yourself to let the tears flow. A few sobs escaped your mouth, but the bathroom was far enough from the living room so they wouldn't be able to hear you.

Without the make-up on, you felt a little more relaxed and you couldn't wait to get into bed again.

But when you reached your room without running into anyone on the way, you were more than surprised to see that once you had closed the door and turned around, you weren't alone.

Tom was sitting on your bed, looking up at you when you entered the room.

You could conclude from the frown that covered his face that you looked as horrible as you felt. Your eyes were probably still puffy and red from the crying and your hair was in a messy bun.

"Tom?", you stuttered, too shocked to come up with something that would save you from this conversation. "What are you doing here?", you added, hating how weak your voice sounded.

His frown grew even deeper and he mustered your apperance, hurt visible in his eyes.

"You were so excited for the quiz so when you didn't leave your room I grew worried", he explained while you akwardly stood next to the door, leaving as much space between the two of you as possible.

"Oh that- I just didn't feel good so I decided to sleep early today", you tried to brush it off, but you knew that Tom would not fall for it.

"Why have you been crying?"

His question was acommpanied by a stern gaze and you couldn't help feeling guilty and ashamed.

"I- I wasn't", you stuttered, but it didn't even sound believable to your own ears. Tom raised his eyebrow, but when he saw how uncomfortable you looked his features softened.

"Hey, you can talk to me, you know that right? Whatever it is, you can tell me and we can figure this out together." His voice was so gentle and caring that tears filled your eyes again and you silently cursed yourself for being so emotional.

You didn't want to cry in front of Tom. It would not be the first time and when it had happened he had always managed to make you feel better and put a smile on your face again, but you also knew the shame that would follow afterwards.

You didn't want him to think that you were too sensitive.

But the tears weren't only a result of your hurt, no, anger was building inside of you at his words. "Really Tom, really?", you snapped and he flinched in surprise.

"Are you sure you want me to talk to you? Maybe someone is filming an instagram story and I could be heard in the background so I should just say nothing at all. Or even better, why don't I just leave the room so there is a lesser chance that I could ruin your precious masterpieces by just existing."

Tom's eyes had widened at your outburst and you actually felt bad for a second, but then you remembered the many occasions he had made you feel like you weren't good enough and the anger came back.

"You know what? I think it would be best if I just went home. I am done being treated like an outsider and being blamed for everything I do!"

Tom had jumped up from the bed and was crossing the distance between the two of you with large steps, but you raised your hands before he could come closer to you.

"Y/n I am so sorry", he stumbled over his words, desperately trying to find the right words. "I didn't realize- I never would have..." Frustrated he ran a hand through his hair.

"Listen, I screwed up! I didn't realize that my behaviour- that I was hurting you and I am so sorry! I just wanted to protect you and now I am the one making you feel this way. Fuck, I am so sorry!"

His words seemed geniune and your heart ached to step forward and pull him into a hug, but you knew that you could not forget so easily.

"I didn't think that this was so important to you. Why didn't you say anything?" He was rubbing the back of his head, seemingly tensed.

"I don't care much about not being in the stories Tom. But it really hurt whenever I am send away so you can film together or when I am told to shut up so I can't be heard while you all have fun together”, you explained, trying to keep your vice even.

“I just feel like I am a burden to you and if you don't want to spend time with me that's fine I guess but I would appreciate for you to tell me that so I can stop trying and just go home."

"No, no, no it's not like that I swear!” Tom seemed desperate again, articulating with his hands to underline his words.

“I miss spending time with you, I really do and it was stupid of me to let myself being dragged into this whole instagram thing!

You know I am normally not the person to care much about posting, but I thought now that everyone is stuck at home, I could make my fans happy and distract them from the situation by sharing more of my life. I should have never put them before you and I am truly sorry!” You could see the regret clearly in his eyes as he took in a deep breath. 

“Please don't go."

You were biting your lip as you were trying your best to stay calm and not break into tears. You had imagined confronting Tom and letting all your anger and hurt out, but now that he stood in front of you with his eyes full of hurt and regret and his pleading words for you to stay, your anger vanished.

"Are you sure?", you asked him in uncertainty, because you knew you couldn't bare if nothing would change. But Tom desperately nodded. "I am. Tomorrow I am going to post a photo to let my fans now that I am taking a break from social media!"

He looked so determined, so sure, that a warm feeling filled you. "You would do that?"

"Of course! I want to make it up to you and besides I was not lying when I said that I miss spending time with you”, he stated, stepping a little closer to you when you didn’t protest anymore.

“You were so distant the last days and I didn't know what to do, so I thought that I should give you space. Seems like that is the last thing I should have done", he sayed with a sheepish smile covering his face.

"Sorry for being so caught up in myself. I should have said something earlier too", you admitted, a small smile forming on your lips, when you felt the burden fall off your shoulders.

"Hug?", Tom suggested and you didn't have to think twice about it.

When he wrapped his strong arms around you, you realized that going back to your place would have been a mistake. Because at some point your home hadn't been a place anymore. Instead it had become a person and you didn't plan on letting go any time soon.

----

Tags:

PERMANENT: @fairytalesforever @hamartocado @capkilljoy​ @choke-me-sweet-pea @sleepinginthegarden7 @thenoddingbunny-blog @ttalisa​

TOM HOLLAND: @mbsgr​ @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory​ @fairydustparker​ @its-the-unknownspideywrites​ @tomhollanders2013​ @hollandsmiss​ ​ @100kindsofblake​ @popluckbih​ @quaksonhehe​​

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[s-brant]

Pirates and Princesses (8/8)

(gif: @beccs) (PART SEVEN) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: JJ must confront his childhood trauma when returning home for the first time since his dad went to jail and prevent it from sabotaging his new relationship. Meanwhile, something sinister happens at the Chateau that brings Y/N face to face with her grief over John B’s death.

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, parent/child abuse, mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, grief, and fluff.

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of Tokens! This one has a little bit of everything in it, but it also has detailed scenes about JJ and his dad, so proceed with caution if you’re easily triggered by that topic. The love you guys show this fic warms my heart so much, so thanks to anyone who stuck with this story until this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Now that she has been sentenced to both punishments, one as a consequence of the fight with Kacey and the other as a consequence of the stunt she pulled with JJ to break out of ISS, Y/N can confidently say that out of school suspension is superior to in-school suspension by a long shot. Instead of sitting in a humid room with Alec for the duration of multiple school days, she's allowed to stay home, go out surfing, and do whatever she wants in lieu of doing classwork.

She promised herself not to make it a habit, promising the invisible presence of John B that she likes to pretend follows her around that she will never get herself into trouble again, but she sees no problem in enjoying her suspension while it lasts.

For the first few days of her suspension, JJ skipped school to spend it with her. Their memories of the conversation they had at three in the morning on Sunday were fuzzy, but not missing entirely. She noticed a difference in his behavior for the first few hours after they woke up under the tree together for the second time in one week. It wasn't a difference in their relationship or how he treated her, it was a difference in him.

He was quieter than usual as they cleaned up cans of beer and tossed them into the recycling, sending pictures to Kie while she was in class after she made them promise not to throw them in the trash. Rather than cracking jokes or making casual conversation with her, JJ made his way around the yard with the recycling bin in his hands and his head in the clouds. It disappeared as the day progressed, but for a little while, he wasn't completely there.

Today, he went into school instead of ditching to spend extra time with her in between shifts at work and time spent with their friends. Since they can't exceed three consecutive absences without a doctor’s note and he doesn't own a printer or laptop to forage the header from a doctor's office, he had no choice but to part from her this morning.

He bites his lip to contain his smug facial expression at the recollection of her wake up call for him. The hand holding his locker door open for him to lean on in the midst of his not-so-wholesome thoughts of her squeezes the metal hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

The curtains weren't shut all the way when they fell asleep before midnight last night, allowing a shaft of sunlight to shine in and land on his face. But that wasn't what woke him up from the dream he was having. In fact, the reality he opened his eyes to was a hell of a lot better than any dream he remembered.

Most of his memory of those moments spent suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness consisted of feeling her pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then her hands rubbing up and down his waist to slip lower and lower until they settled on the waistband of his underwear. It was then that he woke to find her looking up at him for permission from where she peppered kisses along his chest.

Their eyes met right as she kissed the edge of his nipple with this pleading, needy look that he took pride in causing without actively attempting to. She woke up on the brink of coming undone from a pleasant—to put it tamely—dream about him. With a glimpse at the time displayed on the alarm clock, it didn't take much for her to roll over to wake him up.

It ended with her beneath the sheet, finishing what she started Friday afternoon until he was clutching the pillow beneath his head in the midst of his orgasm. It happened so fast, a fault of how hot he found it to wake up to her wanting him so badly, but it felt slower than it truly was in the early morning haze of exhaustion they felt.

The memory as he relives it is as heady as it felt the first time around. He sees it in fractions; her eyes looking up at his, warm palms finding the familiar planes of his muscular body with the exploratory touch of someone who's never traveled it before, and the intense sensations he felt at the end...It's easy for him to stand here and lose himself in it. Despite the class he has to go to, he bargains with himself for one more second spent in the paradise of his memories before he has to come back to reality.

Reality, as his shitty luck would have it, comes in the form of a familiar feminine voice chirping from behind his back as he replays his morning bliss.

"It's good to see you're alive and well, Maybank."

He decides, based on who he knows he'll see when he turns around, that he might invest in a sharpie to write "Bang head here" on the inside of his locker door for instances like these where he'd rather suffer brain damage than speak to someone he can't stomach the presence of.

When he turns to see Kacey with one arm still stretched to hold his locker open, he doesn't bother concealing the genuine reaction from his face for the sake of her feelings. Any care he had for her and her feelings was thrown to the wind as soon as she decided she could steal from and put her hands on his girl last week. However, after a second of thought, a condescending smirk finds its way to his face.

He says, jerking his chin to vaguely gesture at her bruised up face, "Purple really suits your complexion. It makes your eyes pop, don't you think?"

Though the swelling of her black eye has deflated in the days since the fight that’ll soon tally up to a week, the verbal jab hits right where it intended to if the light leaving her eyes tells him anything. She bounces back after a second, though, ever the relentless pest they've come to see her as.

She offers a sickeningly sweet, yet fake smile to mirror the one gracing his striking features and spins so her back meets the locker beside his, allowing herself to invade his space further.

A collection of Y/N's stickers decorates the inside of his locker door that he briefly entertained the idea of designating as a place to bang his head against. They range from girly, glittery ones to those he willingly picked when she gave him the choice. Whenever they're at his locker together, she sticks one on the inside, and the evidence of the habit catches Kacey's wandering eyes.

Her fingertips brush against the surface of the sticker-covered metal while she ignores his protest of, "Can you not touch my stuff?" to inspect them. Since one of the Pogues in particular is famous for her endless supply of stickers, her expression sours at the thought of the girl responsible for them.

She spares him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye as she continues to analyze the sticker collection against his instructions not to, asking, "Why weren't you at the bonfire?" A failed attempt at a seductive look in his direction makes him fight not to roll his eyes. "After how last year's ended, I thought you wouldn't miss it for the world."

JJ doesn't bother to take a second to think things through before he reaches to slam the door closed with her hand still outstretched inside of it. Watching her pull it away just in time to avoid jamming it in the locker probably pleases him more than it should, but he can't help it. His hand catches on the edge of the door, halting it in place right before it closes where her hand previously rested.

She doesn't look too happy with him when he opens the door with no harm done except for the drop of her stomach when he initially pretended to swing it shut on her bruised knuckles. She didn't get many shots in on Y/N when they fought, but apparently it was enough.

He doesn't bother with the fake niceties she's giving him after the disrespect she showed him, his friends, and, most importantly, his girlfriend. The fact that she thinks she has any right to breathe in his direction, let alone flirt with him, after she stole JB's bandana is criminal. 'Cause not only did she mess with Y/N, she messed with John B on multiple levels, and his loyalty to his best friend hasn't disappeared with death. Kie and Y/N told him everything she said about their departed friend in the locker room last Thursday.

But he's smart enough to know what'll hurt her more, so he doesn't go for the general scolding he imagined giving her in his head. Since he was told everything about the encounter in the locker room, he knows she's still holding their history together near and dear to her heart.

"We stayed home," he says, casual and cool as always, with added emphasis on the first word, "You know how it is, my girl doesn't like parties. Especially not ones with kooks."

Hook, line, and sinker.

She scoffs, "Your girl?"

Looking at her now, he wonders if she was always this stupid, or if this is a new development she's had in the year since he last spent more than a minute or two at a time with her. It’s easier to trick her than it was with Kie and Y/N a few days ago, and those poor girls flew into that trap like moths to a flame.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

The ire is visible in the way her face tenses up in places, her lips pressing together a little more firmly and her forehead creasing between the brows.

"Doesn't your, um, history bother her?" she asks, and he's gotta give her credit for being a sneaky little shit when given the chance. The girl takes every possible opening she can to strike for a potential weakness. "No offense, but you kinda get around."

He shrugs this time, deciding to drop his casual act and aim straight for the jugular.

"She likes having someone who knows how to fuck her right, actually, but I really appreciate the concern."

Much like Kie's reaction to their matching tattoos in the hot tub the other night, her jaw is unhinged to meet the unswept hallway floor they stand on. It makes him wish Y/N weren't suspended in order for her to see the gobsmacked reaction Kacey has to the harsh dismissal. Though he wouldn't want to incite an extra round of the Kacey vs Y/N WWE showdown by having her watch another girl flirt with him and essentially call him a slut upon rejection, he knows she'd get a kick out of it.

This one's for you, baby, he thinks with a quiet laugh to himself and turns his focus to the sticker collection she so lovingly crafted.

There are plenty of summer themed ones left over from the same pack he gifted her for her birthday with the surfboard sticker she used to tease him, as well as a newer genre of Valentine's Day stickers she started using the closer they grew since first getting together. They're mostly different colored candy hearts with corny phrases ranging from "U SXY THING" to the classic "BE MINE" and one printed with "ANGEL" on it—his favorite by far.

However, others are random ones from her endless stash built up over the years from birthdays and holidays deemed worthy enough by her dad to stop by Dollar Tree for a new pack, so the one he sets his attention on is likely meant for teachers or coaches to give to their students. The opportunity appears too good to be true to him when it clicks, but it isn't.

He peels the sticker off of the locker door, careful not to disturb the ones around it, and leans in closer to her to place it on the front of her tank top.

"Leave us alone or I won't stop her next time," JJ says lowly, past the point of civility, then backs away to slam his locker shut for real this time as his voice raises back to a normal volume, "And keep John B's name out of your mouth, got it?"

All she can do is look down at the sticker placed on her shirt with squinted eyes to try and read it while he walks off in the direction of his next class. It tears away from the fabric with a soft noise, and when she finally reads it, she rolls her eyes.

“Good Try!”

​​Walking out of school to see the Twinkie parked in the usual spot Y/N takes when she isn't suspended is a delightful treat he didn't know to expect after a rough day in class and his run in with Kacey. His head was hung low on his way to Kie's car to hitch a ride to his house before going home to the Chateau, since he had some things to pick up with his dad out of the picture for the near future, but then he heard her greet them.

JJ's body melts into hers upon contact, and he nearly pushes her up against the closed passenger side door of the van with how hard he hugs her. Though he doesn't want to acknowledge it, his dad has been living in his thoughts more than usual today. Ever since he texted him goodbye, he's been withdrawn inside of his head more and more, and after today's inconveniences, the rising anxiety of his plan to visit home has him two seconds from losing his mind.

Her eyes widen at his zeal, meeting Kie's concerned gaze from over the shoulder she rests her chin on. She stands with her keys swinging around her finger as she watches the couple embrace one another. In an answer to the silent question Y/N asks her in their stare, her lips mouth the words, "His dad," to her.

Deep down, Y/N had a feeling.

It began with his impromptu request to run away with her a few days ago and extended into his uncharacteristically reserved attitude the next morning that receded somewhat, but has yet to fully disappear. There is a part of her that's upset that he hasn't come to her to talk about it, to communicate the way they swore they would, yet she also knows it isn't that simple.

She has to remind herself that she knew what she was getting herself into with him. That's not to say that dating her must be a walk in the park for him, it isn't.

She knows based on the amount of times he had to hold her as she cried, or the time he curtailed her panic attack in this very parking lot, that she hasn't made it easy for him in the aftermath of John B's death. But it's because she knows how it feels that she has such patience with his communication issues.

It's not a conscious choice most times, it's an involuntary blockage preventing the words from being spoken no matter how desperately they long to be. They may have made a promise, but she won't chastise him for succumbing to the same pitfalls as her. It’d be hypocritical.

"Bad day?" she asks.

Her voice is tender with him, prodding gently for a clue as to why he pounced on her on sight. He sinks further into her arms at the sound and lets the sanctity of her touch sway him into submission. Everything about her sets him at ease, if only for a second. Her hand lifts the beat-up red hat from his head to allow the other to brush through his hair.

There's a hum of agreement that she feels vibrating through the center of his chest into hers, and her arms pull tighter around his shoulders in response. This time, when she looks up to see Kie there, she's waving a quick goodbye and setting off toward her car, clearly giving JJ the space he needs.

"We can go to the beach," she says softly, "I have a towel in the back of the van, we can just lay there and talk about it if you want."

The idea of her kind offer to him should add to the comfort he finds in her embrace. It should make him nod and whisper his gratitude to her for being the one person that knows him better than anyone, but it brings him back to the gloomy headspace he was in before seeing her.

It started as a minor distraction when he first arrived at school after carpooling with Kie. It followed him in the quieter moments, only making appearances when he wasn't distracted with more pressing matters. It began as that and built the closer the day came to ending. The sooner his inevitable visit back to his childhood home came, the more he lost himself in his fear, reverting back to a state of helplessness he now occupies with no small amount of shame.

His bottom lip trembles with the urge to cry.

"Can we stop somewhere on the way home first?"

The last place she expected him to drive the Twinkie is here.

As they made their way down each street, taking each turn necessary to bring them closer to the house he seldom let her go to over the course of their lifelong friendship, she felt her heart begin to race. And now, as the van rolls to a stop in the yard in front of his house, she has swallow back the lump in her throat at the sight of it.

She has only been here a few times.

The first time, she was seven years old.

It was a sweltering summer morning in the Outer Banks for her and John B as they set off to retrieve their friend after he missed their plans to meet up at the Chateau for a day of having fun, riding bikes, and playing on the boat. Pirates and Princesses was her favorite game to play with them because JJ would switch roles with her halfway through when she grew tired of being the damsel John B had to rescue from the most cruel and vicious Captain Jesse James Maybank.

The HMS Pogue would rock beneath his feet as he marched across the deck of the boat and took her place as the kidnapped Princess Routledge. He handed off his "sword" to her, a stick he found in the yard, and stood at the edge of the boat with his hands behind his back as though he were a tied up damsel in distress for her to hold captive. The sun setting behind them laid a picturesque backdrop that made the scene all the more vivid to their imaginative young minds.

The boat floated in the afternoon current as John B approached the pair with his best pretend face of worry for the fair Princess Maybank, who had the sharp sword of the pirate queen pressing into his throat with the threat of death should he have tried to escape.

Sometimes, she'd let John B advance on them and tie make believe rope around her wrists and ankles while he and Princess Maybank claimed their victory. Other times, they'd get backed up until the heels of her sneakers hung off the edge of the slippery deck. One move from her brother would have her yell something along the lines of not taking either of them alive, then she'd let her and JJ fall back into the marsh together with gleeful laughs infiltrating the humid air upon their return to the surface.

On the day he didn't show up, none of that happened. She and John B rode their bikes together along sidewalks until they pulled into a driveway marked with the address number he remembered from the other time he sought him out to play before.

Y/N didn't understand what they were hearing when they pushed their kickstands down and called out for their friend, but John B's little face blanched at the sound flooding out of the opened windows of the dilapidated yellow house. It was a combination of banging against the walls, glass shattering, and childlike shouts of frustration and pain. Her big brother placed himself in front of her protectively when the front door opened and smacked against the side of the house, but it wasn't his dad storming out of the house, it was JJ.

His eyes widened at the sight of the siblings standing there, and his heart dropped to his stomach at the realization that they heard it. Maybe not all of it, but based on how the girl peeking out around John B's shoulder looked at him, they heard some.

The van is parked in the exact same place their bikes once were, the exact place she and John B stood years ago when they were first confronted with the harsh reality about their best friend's home life, and he looks like he has fully backpedaled into the state of mind his childhood self inhabited. Even when he turns the key in the ignition and lets the rumbling engine sputter down in silence, he sits in the driver's seat with his lip drawn between his teeth in thought.

Yet as soon as she summons the courage to say something, he takes a deep breath and opens the door without a warning or the typical instruction for her to stay in the car. He doesn't tell her to follow him in, nor does he order her to stay out as he used to when his dad still lived inside. He gives her the choice to make on her own, and, when faced with the opportunity to support him or stay outside like the confused little girl she once was, she chooses the first option.

Her swift steps kick dirt up from the earth onto her ankles as she follows him out of the van to the front steps of the house. She tries not to make her concern for him as evident as it'd be without her intervention on her way up the porch, but it's impossible to erase every sign of it from her face.

It isn't a particularly special or scary house. It's a normal home that'd likely look more inviting if JJ were still living here to mow the lawn and tend to the household upkeep his father saddled him with since he was old enough to be put to work. But she knows better than to trust the street appeal. As he takes her hand to lead them through the threshold of the haunted structure, she is overcome with a sense of creeping trepidation that she can't shake.

"You're sure he isn't here?" she asks.

The entryway is crowded with stacks of mail his father wasn’t bothered to open, as well as empty cardboard boxes that once held cans of beer that are scattered, empty, in various places around the house. Her question is answered by the state of the rooms they breeze past in the direction of his bedroom, but she needed something to say to fill the silence. With them, they usually don’t feel uncomfortable not speaking to each other, but this feels different.

The way he stares out in front of him with his hand squeezing hers hard enough to cut off circulation unnerves her more than the tainted energy of the house itself. He isn't himself. He's a shell of the JJ they know and love, the JJ who is most comfortable tucked away in the safe walls of the Chateau with their friends, not here. If anything, how he is while he's here is the antithesis of his behavior while living with her.

Ever since John B died, he's practically moved in with her. When they're hidden away in her house without the reminders of his home life in sight, he's usually the caretaker of the relationship. It comes naturally to their dynamic, both with him being slightly older and his promise to take care of her, but everything is flipped here. It's an alternate reality for him, or, perhaps, actual reality smacking him in the face after a carefully constructed two months in utopia with her.

They come to a stop in front of his closed bedroom door.

"He's gone," he says, not even sparing a glance at her for reasons she can't decipher, "He texted me a few days ago to say goodbye."

With that, he turns the doorknob and lets the door swing open to reveal the bedroom she only saw one other time.

The second time, she was thirteen years old.

It was a Friday.

Since his dad was supposed to be at work, they stopped at his house on their way home from school exactly like they did today so he could share with their friends what he got from his cousin the night before. Being the good girl she was, she didn't even know what he was showing her when he dug it out of the backpack in the bottom of his closet.

Her brows furrowed at the ziploc bag, more specifically the contents inside of it. She was knelt down on the floor in front of the opened closet door with her shoulder pressed up against his to inspect it. The dried green cluster of a plant didn't look like anything she'd seen before, and she couldn't help but ask him what the hell it was rather than react the way he knew the others would.

"What is it? It looks like dried up moss."

JJ laughed and pulled another bag with rolling papers and a grinder stowed inside.

"It's weed. My cousin Ricky gave me a discount since—"

He halted mid-sentence abruptly enough to startle her, his head turning in the direction of where he heard a trunk pulling up to the front of the house. Her stare was still set on where he was holding the plastic bags in his hands, and she noticed, after he stopped speaking in reaction to his dad coming home, that his hands began trembling. It was so minimal, she almost didn't catch it until she saw the bag wavering under the light coming in from his window.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything more, she felt his hands on her shoulders shoving her into the closet. He followed in closely behind her and crawled in until they were both crammed into the confined space together. With the closet doors shut in front of them, he clamped a hand over her mouth, whispering in her ear for her to be quiet.

She stands with her arms crossed over herself in the center of his room, and though nothing has yet to be said or done to convince her anything is wrong, that's the exact reason why she feels so unnerved by the entire experience of coming here.

He's silent.

The closet doors are wide open as he stuffs the rest of the clothes he had yet to bring to the Chateau into the biggest bag he could find. He rips through his belongings in a fit of melancholy driven anger. His thoughts are swirling with similar memories to the ones she conjures from being here again, but his are tinged with a darkness hers don't have, even with hearing him crying in pain as a child and hiding in the closet with his hand smothering her mouth to evade his dad.

JJ visibly grimaces at the memories he's forced to relive in flashes with every glimpse he gets of the room he spent so much time hiding in. It used to be more tolerable to be here, or at least easier to suffer through. At least he was used to it before, but he got so accustomed to life somewhere else that the second he was confronted with coming back, he started to fall apart.

Whatever he can't live without, he finds space for it in the bag and prepares to leave the rest behind. But every object he touches and step he takes around the room brings him back to the person who he spent his adolescence simultaneously fleeing and wanting more from. More notably, it brings him back to the train of thought that has been nagging him ever since he texted him over the weekend.

The third and final time she came here was over the summer.

It happened right before Hurricane Agatha waged war on the island, when none of the Pogues heard from JJ for two days after he said he had to go home to help his dad with something. She didn't want to track him down to his house after they went over twenty-four hours without a single message. She didn't want to have to go back to the house that gave her chills to think about, let alone go to again after they hid in his closet when they were younger, but he gave her no other choice.

What was she supposed to do except go check on him where he last said he'd be? After all, if she lived in the hazardous environment he did, he'd do the exact same for her. If their friends were involved in her thoughts at the time, they would've gone out on a limb to say he would've gone beyond what she did to protect her if the situation were flipped. If he knew someone was hurting her, he would've come in swinging first and asked questions later, but, in her defense, he strictly told her to never come back to his house. By walking over in the first place, she was breaking one of the fundamental rules of their friendship.

Nevertheless, she found herself crouching around the side of his house to find his bedroom window and check if he was in there. Kie and Pope weren't aware of what was happening with his dad yet, but she and John B accidentally found out years ago, so she wasn't wondering why he wasn't answering them, she was wondering if he was alive.

Part of her truly thought underneath it all that Luke might've killed him. He might've been too drunk or high and went too far when beating him, too far to the point where he didn't want to risk going to jail to take him to the hospital for help. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't check, and if he got pissed at her for showing up against his wishes and didn't want to speak to her ever again, she could live with that.

She knocked on his window in a cadenced beat loud enough for it to heard through the room but not any further. After the first series of knocks, no one came to the window. It ripped her heart to pieces to wonder if she'd see him again as she continued to knock and allowed the sound to increase in volume in hopes that maybe he was asleep, but it didn't bring anyone to the window.

It wasn't until she turned back around to go to the front of the house again that she bumped right into the solid wall of his chest and was pushed back up against the house. The question of what she was doing there was on the tip of his tongue, but she said something that stopped him from asking it.

Her arms were thrown around his shoulders in a desperate bear hug.

"Oh God, JJ, you scared me half to death!" she cried into the front of his shirt, "I thought he killed you!"

He can't help but think of it as he packs his belongings away for a final time to bid his hellish childhood home goodbye: What kind of life are they going to have together if they can't get off this island? Running away may have been an idealistic drunken fantasy for him to entertain after his conversation with Pope got him to admit his true feelings for her, but they both know his consistency can't be trusted.

One moment, he's planning to tell her. The next, a day like today comes along, sweeps his legs out from beneath his body, and he's questioning whether it's worth it to force her to put up with his fickle commitment to her. It isn't fair to her, is it?

Right now is just about when he'd normally start to hyperventilate with an oncoming wave of panic, and he does, but he can't let it fully sweep into him with her here. He fights the urge to smack his head with the heel of his palm, as if that'd forcibly remove the poisonous thoughts infiltrating his mind and ruining the careful work they've done together to remedy their issues with communicating their feelings.

Just like you ruin everything, a thought whispers in the corner of his mind. What made you think this would be any different?

His actions around the room have turned somewhat aimless and distracted, which she notices as soon as he starts to disintegrate into a mess of heavy breaths and self-sabotaging thoughts. She picks up on the shift in his energy as soon as the anxiety starts to wash over him, and she'll be damned if she continues to stand here quietly to let it happen.

It's one thing if he's being silent because being here upsets him, or if he simply doesn't know what to say, but she refuses to let him tailspin into a mental breakdown without doing something to stop it. Whether he knows it or not, after what they went through with him trying to push her away last week, she knows what's occurring within his mind right now.

He flinches at the feeling of her hand grabbing his shoulder to turn him to face her at first, and when she reaches again with her other hand to try to hold his hand as he cries, he shrugs off her touch.

"JJ..." she lets the solemn sound of her own voice murmuring his name trail off, "it's just me."

His head shakes at her consoling words. Everything else inside of his mind is so earth-shatteringly loud, he can't drown it out with logic or reason to bring himself away from the memories of his dad. Those intrusive thoughts keep attacking him with doubled, then tripled force the harder he tries to resist them, and he's so exhausted from it. All of it—the memories, his dad going to jail, and his inability to accept her love to its fullest extent without convincing himself she'll abandon him—is exhausting.

This time, when she rests her hand on his shoulder, he swats it away as the frustration of today crushing him with the force of an avalanche. Not to hurt or scare her, but to get her hands off of him before he bursts out of his skin with the sickness it stirs in his stomach. So detached from himself, he anticipates pain from every touch she gives him, and he knows it hurts her.

JJ hardly recognizes his own voice as he backs away from her a step and says, "Don't."

He can tell it hurts her based on how she looks at him immediately after, but he can't handle being touched right now. How did this happen so quickly? It was overwhelming when they first parked outside, but as soon as he stepped foot inside, it was as if a switch was flipped inside of him and all of the buried feelings he kept hidden over the past two weeks exploded into this.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"You need to leave. I just-I can't breathe and"—He still refuses to look up from the ground or see her face as he paces around the room with no real intent in mind—"You can't see me like this."

That is what breaks her out of her soft spoken, timid attitude to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled. Their natural dynamic worked best for him to take charge when she had her panic attack because JJ acts first and thinks later. He saw that she was in distress and jumped in to help her before things got worse rather than allowing her to keep him at an arms length where he couldn't do anything about it.

Taking a page from his rule book, she takes action.

The room surrounding them is in a state of disarray from him searching through it for the items of clothing and objects now stashed in his duffel bag. There are multiple obstacles in her way as she steps between them like navigating a minefield to reach him after he backed away in instinctual fear, but they don't stop her from reaching him. Nothing could.

Y/N walks right up to him and reaches to grasp his face between her hands, forcing him to stop pacing around and actually look at her for the first time since they arrived her so he hears what she says. To say the least, the way he looks right now is enough to make her cry. There are tears welled up to the brims of his blue eyes, his lips are downturned with his sobs, and he's staring at her like she's about to strike him.

She says it as slowly and clearly as she needs to get it through his head, "He's not here," and before he manages to squeeze out another word of doubt between his rapid inhalations, she cuts in, "Take deep breaths."

He isn't listening to her.

The movement of his chest that hits hers from how close they stand to each other has yet to settle into the familiar pace she remembers from nights of falling asleep with the rhythm of his breaths beneath her head.

Her eyes search his face frantically, from left to right and top to bottom, for any sign of the person she's known for years, but she doesn't see him. Instead, she sees the same panicked child her and John B saw the first time they visited this house. It's uncanny how similar the expression in his face is. It feels to her as if she's been hurled back in time to the moment itself, and when she tries to think about what would've worked with him back then, she doesn't know what else to do except help him escape.

So, with the helplessness of having to watch him turn into a sobbing, incoherent mess, she decides to step into the darkness with him and do what seven year old Y/N would've done. Just like their games of make believe, of pirates and princesses, she assumes the role John B would have and rescues him from what holds him captive. It’s his own mind in this case, but, in the physical sense, it's the house.

She drops her hands from his face and takes his hand in hers to drag him out of the room. The packed bag sits on the floor in their wake as she pulls him back through the bedroom door and into the living room, not caring about what they came here to do.

It doesn't matter anymore.

The various rooms of his dad's house pass by them in a blur as she leads him down the hallway to the front door with one sole objective in mind: get him out of here. If he wants his stuff to bring back to the Chateau, she'll go back inside and get whatever he needs her to, but she isn't letting him inside of this house again. Not under her watch.

Thankfully, since he is undeniably stronger than her and she wouldn't have stood a chance, he doesn't fight it. He stumbles after her guiding hand the same way he always has, just like how he followed her back to the Chateau after she and John B saw him that day when they were kids. She led the way as he sat on the handlebars of her brother's bike, and he watched her hair flutter in the wind with the momentum of their bicycle spokes until the tears dried up.

He watches her drag him out of the home until they've reached the safety of the yard at the bottom of the porch steps, and as soon as the soles of her shoes meet the dirt, she feels his hand slipping out of hers.

"JJ?"

She turns around to see him clutching his chest, rubbing his hand along the front of his shirt over his heart as though it'll loosen up the tightened muscles preventing him from catching his breath. His body weight is leaned onto the railing of the porch steps for support. He's partially slumped on it, looking at her desperately, like she somehow knows the answer to every question screamed inside of his head, and she has never felt as useless.

"You're gonna leave," JJ says through the gasps and cries that leave his cheeks stained with tears.

When she reaches out again to help him remain upright without leaning over the railing, he doesn't shove her hands away as he did inside of his bedroom. It's a small battle won, but she takes it as a win nonetheless.

"What are you saying? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere—"

"You're gonna leave! Everybody does! My mom, John B, my dad, and you"—his head falls to look at the ground instead of her, and she watches him work through it in his head—"I mean, look at me. You don't want this."

"Don't tell me what I want," she says.

Her voice remains as steady and calm as she can force it to be amidst the turbulent situation, but the way he said it...It takes her right back to sitting in the back of the Twinkie with him at the Cherry Bowl, except it's ten times worse. That felt like a break up, but based on what he's saying, this is one. She hasn't prepared herself for the heartache she feels in response to it.

"You don't want me, you just think you do 'cause I was there after John B died, but you don't. You're gonna go off, find some perfect guy that isn't as fucked up as me, and have a great life somewhere else, but it ain't here," JJ says, his breathing evening out with the distraction of the argument to keep him tethered tor reality, "And it won't be with me."

He can see it every time he's looked at her and debated saying those three titular words that have been floating around in his head since he first met her.

How could she want someone who can't walk into his childhood bedroom without breaking down, or someone who still has years-old scars from cigarette burns on his skin when she touches him? Her bright future contrasted with his pre-designated fate on the Cut, her personality better matched with someone more similar to her, her life continuing on whether he's there or not—it's his worst nightmare, but he's prepared to see it through.

What he doesn't expect is for her to hold her ground.

"You honestly think I'm buying into that bullshit?" she asks.

"What?"

She doesn't put it softly, she states facts with as much harshness as his cruel fantasy had, "You're trying to push me away and I won't let you."

Her typically sweet, soft features have hardened into a bitter expression he's sure he mirrors. The arms holding his waist to keep him upright move to climb up his chest and cup his face between her hands with all of the gentleness her face and voice don't have right now.

She sees right through him.

When he tries to look away again, to avert his eyes to make what he's trying to do easier on himself by not having to look at her when he does it, her grasp on his face holds firm. Her hands guide his chin back up so they're face to face, and he realizes what a mistake everyone makes in assuming her this dainty, broken girl whose only source of strength came from the brother she lost. She's a forest fire.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying—"

Y/N interjects, "I am hearing what you're saying, I'm just saying it's bullshit."

She refuses to let him off the hook, and though it frustrates him on the surface, deep down, it makes him fall in love with her all over again. Her insistence against his speech about her leaving him proves him wrong more than anything else could, 'cause he gave her the perfect chance to dip and she shot it down instantly.

The house looms behind them as a menacing presence that threatens to take control of him again, but she doesn't let it. She keeps his eyes on her no matter how many times he tries to look away and doesn't let anything get in the way of what she says next.

"You think that if you push me away and get me to leave you right now, it'll hurt less than it would if I did it later, and I don't accept that. I won't take the bait and let you torture yourself anymore, okay? I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I'll never leave you. Not willingly, anyway."

She looks into his eyes, and this time its softer, more loving, and he's never felt as understood as he does when she continues to speak.

"I'm in love with you. Whether it scares you or not, it's the truth, and I'll never stop saying it. If you think that your issues with your dad are gonna change that for me, you've officially lost your mind." Their noses brush as she leans in to ghost a kiss over his mouth and pulls away a second later to whisper, her forehead pressed to his, "I love you, JJ. Stop being so stubborn and just let me."

His next breath in trembles as he lets her words sink in, and he's stuck at a crossroads inside of himself without a clue of what to do.

The breeze blows her hair away from her face, the afternoon sunshine painting her golden, and when he sees her hair flutter in the air like it did so many years ago, he can't help but feel as calm as he did during their bike ride home. The further away he got from his dad and the house where it all happened, the calmer he grew, and it hits him at this moment that he's so taken aback by her confession to him, he forgot why he was so upset.

It's sobering. The intoxication of his panic hurtled him back in time to the frightened, childlike state of mind his dad's violent abuse often sent him to, but it was hearing her say those words he's feared for weeks that brought him back. Like the jolt of a defibrillator, he's roused back to life with more clarity than before.

She loves him, but, perhaps more importantly, she said she'd never leave him, and that is what he needed to hear more than anything. That is the statement worth more to him than the four letter word he has agonized over endlessly. No one else every attached the promise of "I love you" with the stipulation of it lasting forever. They said the empty words and contradicted it with their actions, but she hasn't done that. Her actions spoke the words long before her mouth did.

He sighs.

It's a deep, yearning sigh that sends him melting into her with the acceptance of what he's denied for too long. He savors the hands cradling his head, as well as the body pressed up against his that he has memorized down to every beauty mark and imperfection, and makes the right choice.

It isn't like it was the night at the Cherry Bowl, or the night he spoke to Pope about it. It still takes more bravery than he possesses to form the words, but there isn't a physical incapability stopping him anymore. It's just him against the trauma beckoning him into its trap again, and he won't let it lure him back into that house.

"Alright," JJ says to her through a sniffle in acceptance to her command, as if he were agreeing on afternoon surfing plans rather than something as monumental as allowing someone to love him, then continues onto with a timid tone, "I love you too."

Before he can watch for her reaction, she's surging forward through the few inches of space left between them to connect their lips in a kiss.

It's vastly different to the kiss they shared in the hallway at school last Friday. In contrast to that one, the reigning emotion within him that drives the kiss after the hesitant beginning doesn't lead them into increased intensity, it gets gentler. It doesn't explode into chaos and passion, it's a tired kiss that he never wants to retreat from. It's the physical manifestation of his feelings for her underneath the guarded exterior he uses to protect himself: gentle and yielding, yet undeniably powerful.

He feels her smiling through her tears against his mouth. In the face of everything that happened this afternoon, he doesn't feel like he should be smiling back at her, but he does. He smiles while kissing her with tears streaming down his face, still reeling from his traumatic response to coming home for the final time, and wonders how a person can feel such contradicting emotions all at once.

Y/N is the one who starts to pull away first, though it's only to check in on him. If she had it her way, she could stay here with him until the sun sets, but he did just come back from the brink of a full-blown panic attack, so she can't in good conscience ignore his well-being for the momentary bliss of their love confessions.

Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her smile drooping with worry as she asks, "Wanna spend the rest of the day on the boat? You always say being on the water makes you feel better. Maybe it'll make it easier to talk about it."

His Adam's apple bobs with how he swallows the lump in his throat.

"Can we maybe take baby steps for now? I don't think I can handle telling you all that shit yet."

It was already enough to allow her to follow him into the house, watch him break down into a fit of panic no one else has seen him in, and tell her he loved her, but it'd cross the line into uncharted territory to talk about everything between him and his dad so openly. Between the minor annoyance of dealing with Kacey to this hellish visit home, he thinks he's reached his quota on feeling uncomfortable today.

She nods in agreement.

"Baby steps."

Drawn back to each other by a force stronger than gravity, they collide again, but it isn't a kiss this time. It's a hug charged with all of the previously unspoken emotions they've buried inside of themselves for years, the same hug she gave him the last time she came to this house with the fear of his potential death lingering in her thoughts.

She throws herself at him with the same desperation she did that day and relishes the feeling of his muscular arms returning the embrace until their bodies are tangled together. She'd usually never refer to something as inherently affectionate as an embrace as violent, but it's the closest she can come to capturing how it feels as their bodies meet. It makes her lose her footing on the bottom step they stand on together, teetering on the edge she'd surely slip off of with the force if not for him keeping her steady.

He's about to say something, a thank you to her for calling him out on his bullshit and not letting him go that easily, when the grating sound of her ringtone blares from the back pocket of her denim shorts.

The contact popping up on the screen along with a series of frantic messages when she pulls away from him to answer shows Pope's name.

Pope You and JJ need to get back to the Chateau ASAP!!

The van doors slam shut behind Y/N and JJ as soon as it rolls to a stop in front of the Chateau.

Under the assumption that something dire happened, as in injury or death or catastrophic damage to the house itself, they bolted off of that porch faster than they knew they could move. She only turned back when she remembered the packed back of JJ's things they abandoned on his bedroom floor and, not wanting him to reenter the house, she brought it back to the Twinkie in record time.

They're preparing to trample up the porch into the house like a stampede of animals when they hear Kie calling them over to the backyard and change direction.

"No one's hurt!" she shouts, knowing that was likely where their minds went after everything they went through during the summer, "You have to see this though, I don't know who did it!"

Sticks and fallen leaves crunch beneath her feet on her way around the side of the house. Her mind races with the possibility of what could've happened that didn't hurt their friends but necessitated a series of texts and calls as frantic as the ones she received at JJ's house. She drove over here in defiance of the speed limit, something she rarely does, and prayed nothing terrible was happening.

It gave her flashbacks to when she found out John B and Sarah died in the storm. The pedal beneath her foot brought the van to an uncomfortably swift speed, then she remembered the sound of Shoupe's voice when he gave them the news. JJ warned her to slow down, then she remembered how it took multiple people to help her restrain him from attacking the new sheriff for letting his men drive their friends into their deaths.

At first, she doesn't realize what's wrong.

Kiara and Pope are standing and waiting for them across the grass near the large tree that sits as a centerpiece to their yard. Based on the body language screaming their frustration and the tears in their eyes, she can tell something bad did happen, but it's not clear what it is until she looks past them to the tree. More specifically, until she looks at what's on the tree.

"Oh my god," she whispers to herself.

Her hand is already up to cover her mouth and conceal the instantaneous frown besmirching her previously relaxed face. They both are stopped in their tracks halfway to where their friends are standing, and she can’t hear JJ's reaction over the rising volume of her hysterical thoughts.

Spray painted in red on top of their memorial for John B are the words "COP KILLER" in bold letters that conceal what they burned into the tree trunk for his gravestone. It sticks out from the beauty of the greens, browns, blues, and swathes of other earthy tones composing the scenery around the Chateau like a thorn amongst flowers, so much so that she wonders how she didn't instantly see it when they rounded the corner to come back here.

Yet that isn't the only thing amiss in the peaceful sanctuary they call home, there are random things strewn around the ground around the tree. An old t-shirt spray painted with the word "murderer" on the front, four ripped up envelopes, and a gorgeous mahogany jewelry box...broken on the grass.

The freshly turned dirt they had the contents of the box buried beneath is scattered around the trashed area as well. It clicks with her a few seconds late that whoever came here to do this must have seen the pinwheel she put in the ground to mark the "grave" and dug it up to add insult to injury.

She moves forward without consciously realizing it and stumbles until she reaches the first object of the debris field. Before this, she was doing a masterful job of holding in her cries, but as soon as she crouches down to pick up the pieces of the jewelry box, the lid snapped clean off the hinges to separate it from the bottom section, it comes rushing out of her against her will. The first unrestrained keen is the first thing to snap JJ out of his shell shocked trance.

He walks after her as fast as his legs will take him without breaking into a run, but she isn't letting him get close before she puts the box back down and shuffles forward to collect the torn letter remains. She doesn't want them to get blown away by the wind anymore than they already might have been, so she scrambles to gather the pieces until they're cupped in her hands to protect them.

"Why?" she asks and looks up at Kie and Pope with tears dripping down her face, "Why would anyone do this? Who would do this?"

Pope says, "My guess is as good as yours. We didn't see anyone leaving when we got here, so it must've happened before school ended. This is all we saw before we called you guys."

For a second or two, JJ is grasping at straws for why this happened and who did it like the rest of them are, but then something Pope said makes it click into place. It sets off a domino effect in his mind as he brings back the memory of a certain offspring of satan being absent from gym this afternoon despite being at school earlier, since his encounter with her before Physics made him, unfortunately, aware of her existence again.

His face is set in anger, jaw clenching with the tension of him grinding his teeth together, and he takes his hat off to fidget with it between his hands for a second. Their friends are too focused on her crying to see him contemplating it, but as soon as he speaks, they look up to see him setting his hat back onto his head in preparation to leave and track Kacey down.

Y/N's head snaps up from the torn letters in her hands to the sight of him storming off across the yard with his only goodbye being the words, "I'm gonna kill that bitch."

Her and Pope stare after him in shock, unable to put the pieces together about who that "bitch" is, but Kie doesn't miss a single beat. While Y/N is crumpled over on the ground in tears, she's rushing after JJ before he can approach the bike parked in front of the house. He doesn't even make it five steps before he feels her hands latching onto his wrist to stop him.

She asks, "Who the hell are you talking about? And why would they do this?"

His eyes narrow at her. His unreleased frustration for the situation in general and having to watch Y/N cry after an emotional afternoon together comes rushing out when he snaps at her.

"Kacey. She talked shit at school and I put her in her place. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna pay her a little visit."

He yanks his arm sharply towards himself to free it from her grip, but she's a step ahead of him. Quicker than he can think to stop her, Kie swipes the keys hanging out of his back pocket away and throws them to Pope, who, bless his heart, can't catch to save his life. The key ring jingles with its contact at the dead center of his chest, and she mouths an apology to him before turning back to face JJ.

"What the fuck, Kie?"

He makes to stomp past her and retrieve the keys from Pope only to be stopped by her hands reaching out to grab his shoulders.

"Listen to me, you can't go anywhere. Look at her," she whispers lowly enough to keep Y/N from hearing, pointing behind her to where she sits on the ground with Pope knelt beside her, "I wouldn't put it past Kacey to pull a stunt like this. I'm just as mad as you, but revenge can wait and you know it. She needs you."

The fury visible in his expression is subdued by looking past Kie's shoulder to see Y/N crying softly to Pope about the vandalized memorial.

The last time he saw her so distraught over something, it was the day they made the memorial and buried the box in the first place. She sits on her knees with her mom's broken jewelry box between them, shuddering with the sobs she has no control over, and pours the torn paper into the empty bottom half of the box. Exhausted to the core, she looks more like a sullen, kicked puppy than she does herself.

It makes his anger-fueled instincts that urge him to hunt Kacey down and do something, anything he can to make her feel the pain they do right now bubble down into sorrow. It's visible in his eyes when he looks at her.

Kie knows she's gotten under his skin when he sighs, sparing a parting glance to the bike in the driveway, and nods once at her before setting off back to where they're sitting in the grass.

Meanwhile, Y/N is stuck staring down at the disarray of her backyard with nothing but pain aching through her to the bone.

Her brother did wrong things sometimes as a consequence of being human, but never this, never something worthy of having his name dragged through the mud and being branded a murderer after his death. He stole scuba gear from Ward and broke dozens of laws in their hunt for the gold, but he never crossed that line into moral bankruptcy. Rafe did, and it kills JJ to see someone like Kacey do this to his best friend while hanging off of Rafe and his friends like a leech.

The fabric of his worn t-shirt is tarnished by the dried paint clinging to the front of it to the spell the lie written there, and her vision blurs with tears for what feels like the millionth time in the span of an hour. First, it was JJ. Now, it's John B, and she can't help but wonder if the heartache will ever end. It began to feel better over the course of the week, her grief for him slowly beginning to slip from her mind until now. Until the storm clouds converged again to batter her with another wave of it.

Through the deafening volume of her mind racing with thoughts and feelings to process what's happened, she hears Pope shuffling around to stand on his feet. Then, another person sits down in his place and scoots closer until their bodies are touching, and she knows it's him. She doesn't have to wait to hear his voice or look to see his face, she can tell based on the feeling of his touch and the smell of him she's so intimately familiar with, yet couldn't describe it aloud if she tried.

He doesn't smother her. He sits close enough to touch her and doesn't push it any further.

The background of the pale, cloudless sky frames him in the foreground like the subject of a painting—a living, breathing painting that she could study endlessly. The other trees planted in the yard's leaves flutter distantly behind him and try to draw her gaze away, but she keeps her eyes on him.

Maybe that's how it is, she thinks.

Maybe it'll get better and worse in a dance that'll only stop when they're no longer here to agonize over it. Maybe this is what moving on from John B will always be like. It'll feel like they've made strides in the right direction, then something will come along to shatter it to sharp pieces that'll reopen their stitched up wounds. If that's the case, at least the four of them have each other to lean on when it gets worse again.

JJ sits with her and lets her crawl onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, until the sun sinks below the horizon.

The gentle bobbing of the HMS Pogue at the surface of the water steadies her amidst her eddying thoughts. It keeps her present to the moment the way the ropes tying the boat to the dock keeps it from floating adrift into the marsh. It's a motion engrained in her from the start of her life until now from countless days spent on the water. Whether it be for fishing, swimming, or playing make believe with her boys all those years ago, it's as much a part of her as her personality or body itself.

JJ was right about one thing: being out on the water makes it easier to think.

He hasn't followed her out since she woke up before sunrise and snuck out of bed to come here. Despite her efforts not to wake him, he woke up when she disentangled her body from his, silently cursing the fact that they always cuddle so closely, and he tried to pull her back to him with a whine of displeasure in his groggy, half-asleep state. Sleep finally found them after hours of staying up together to talk about what Kacey did, unable to relax from the chaos of yesterday, so he wasn't prepared to wake up that soon.

"Go back to sleep, angel," she whispered as she hovered over him, brushing a chaste kiss to his lips that he was too tired to return.

That was the last time she saw him since this morning, and now that the sun has risen to its peak in the sky without her moving an inch from her perch atop the bow of the boat, she's begun to wonder if he's awake yet. It isn't uncommon for them to sleep in for half of the day when there isn't school or work, so it isn't surprising to her that he's just now waking up when she hears the back door to the Chateau opening and closing.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ has been awake the entire morning since she left bed.

They were so attached to each other yesterday night, he didn't have the time to put it together without her seeing and ruining the surprise, but once he heard the door to the porch close to signify her leaving, he kicked the blankets off of himself and got to work. He wasn't originally planning on starting so early, since they stayed up late into the night together, but once he woke up to the feeling of her sneaking out of his arms, he was too awake to fall back asleep.

The sound of his footsteps on the dock warns her of his approach, but she doesn't raise her head from where she rests it in her palms to stare out at the water.

"I was wondering when you'd finally wake up," she says.

There's another few steps, then the boat jostles with his weight stepping onto it.

He doesn't say anything to her in response. The only clue she gets as to what he's doing are the footsteps on the deck that lead closer to her until she feels him sitting down on the bow next to where she is. And she's about to open her mouth to ask if he's okay when he sets something down in front of her.

It's a shoe box.

Y/N turns to see him, eyes flickering over his tired face, and looks back at the box with furrowed brows.

"What is this?"

His hair is messy, exactly how it was when she left him in bed this morning, and if she weren't more focused on the mysterious box he plopped down in front of her, she'd be combing through it with her fingers. He's gotten used to those casual displays of affection from her; how she runs her hands through his hair on mornings before school when he forgets to brush it, or when she fixes a button on his flannel that he missed.

JJ's lips are tipped in a smile, and she can't help but blush with how he looks at her. She never used to see it, but he has always looked at her like this. Like he's hopelessly, utterly in love with her. Even before they lost John B, back when he'd expend all of his romantic and sexual attention on girls he hardly knew, he still looked at her this way.

He gestures at it and says, "Open it."

The lid of the box is coated in a freshly dried layer of blue paint to match the shade of the sky overhead. She knows instantly that he must have dug through the arts and crafts box she specifically labeled with a warning for him and John B to stay out. It's painted with aimlessly sloppy brushstrokes and stickers placed at every corner of the cardboard box, all of which she recognizes from the stash she kept under her bed alongside the India ink he borrowed last Friday.

As she gives him a skeptical look and reaches to lift the lid off of the shoe box, she makes a mental note to rewrite the label on the arts and crafts box without the warning for him to keep out. Since John B isn't here to steal anything from it and JJ never follows that rule anyway, it's redundant at this point.

Any skepticism is washed away from her face as soon as she flips the lid open to reveal what's inside. It leaves her speechless as she looks down at it all.

"JJ..." she murmurs in awe.

Sitting at the bottom of it is a folded up t-shirt she saw JJ wear multiple times, but never again since John B died. He refused to glance at the shirt his best friend gave him the year before they never saw him again, let alone dig it out of the corner of her closet where he keeps his things...until now.

But that's a scratch on the surface of all of the things about his gift that stuns her to silence. The next thing to catch her immediate attention is a picture she hasn't seen in years.

It's one that Big John took of the three of them together right where she and JJ are sitting. She was much younger in it, flashing a toothy grin with her arms thrown over both boys' shoulders. To her left, John B was leaning his head on her shoulder. To her right, JJ was wearing an eyepatch they crafted out of an old black shirt he stole from his dad. It was cut with the kitchen scissors and tied around the back of his head in a knot.

She brushes her thumb over John B's face, then sets the crinkled photograph back down atop the folded shirt and moves her attention to the last surprise.

Letters.

Torn up pieces of paper painstakingly taped back together sit one on top of the other, some missing pieces here or there, and it makes her mouth part in shock. Her hands shuffle the letters apart to see each one and recognize the handwriting: Kie's bubbly, swirling letters, Pope's neat cursive, hers, and JJ's chicken scratch writing that she's able to decipher from years of proofreading his essays.

She pictures him at her desk all morning while she was sitting out here, ripping tape off of the roll and arranging the puzzle pieces of the ripped letters until he was sure he got it right. It made him want to rip the hair from his scalp, but he sat there and pushed through the frustration to make it as perfect as he could for her. The missing pieces were primarily from Kie's letter, which fluttered away on a balmy breeze when Kacey tore it up and threw it to the ground, but the one he wanted her to have the most wasn't missing more than a single piece.

Y/N looks up from the letters held like a precious treasure in her hands to see him watching her with that same classic JJ smile on his face, but he doesn't let her get a word in yet.

"Go on," he says, leaning closer to pull his letter to John B out and place it on top of the pile for her to read, "I want you to read it."

"You didn't let me read it when I asked before though, are you sure you—"

He interrupts her before she can worry herself over it, "Dude, just read it. I promise I'm fine with it. I want you to."

The letters crinkle under her touch as she looks back down and smooths them out on the deck enough to read through the clear tape. With one last confirming glance to him for permission, she takes a deep breath and reads the first line.

Dear John B,

You really know how to keep a guy on his toes, don't you? You really outdid yourself on this one. I was so sure we were gonna make it, but I guess you had to go all Romeo and Juliet on us, huh? As long as you and Sarah are happy macking on each other in heaven, it's okay.

In all seriousness, I fucking miss you, bro. I miss you more than I realized a person could miss another person. Whenever I need to talk to you again, I don't know what to do. I guess that's why it's good that Y/N made me write this.

Also, I'm really sorry for—

"What does it say there? There's a whole chunk missing," she murmurs.

He scoots close enough to her that she can feel his body warmth radiating onto her through the shoulder of his flannel. Sunlight reflects on the silver rings decorating his fingers as he holds one side of the paper to tilt it enough for him to squint at.

"Macking, I think. It's supposed to say "I'm sorry for macking on your sister."

—macking on your sister. You can totally kick my ass for it, but before you come back from the grave to murder me, let me defend myself, okay? She isn't just another girl for me, John B.

I think you knew it before I did.

Last summer, you asked me straight up if we were hooking up behind your back after I kissed her in front of you on the porch. I laughed in your face, but you were right.

You saw everything before me, man. You knew I loved her since we were kids and waited for us to come to you about it, so that's gotta mean something, right? I hope it means you wouldn't be mad at me for this.

I swear I won't fuck it up with her, but you already know that. That's why you asked me to take care of her,. I didn't know why at the time but I do now. I won't let you down.

I'm keeping my promise.

- JJ

P.S. Don't miss me too much. We'll be shotgunning beers together up there before you know it.

There are tears blooming in her eyes when she lifts her gaze from the tattered paper to look at him again, but they aren't sad. For once, the tears slipping down her cheeks are happy tears, not born from grief, sadness, and pain, but bittersweet happiness.

They're caught staring at each other for a second before he asks her shyly, "It isn't too sappy or anything, is it? 'Cause I thought it—"

"C'mere," is the only thing she can get out before she's tugging him forward by the front of his shirt to kiss him.

JJ stumbles a little with the unexpected force of her pulling him to her, but he takes it in stride. He steadies himself and lets his hands shoot out to grapple for purchase on her waist, keeping her pressed up against him tightly as he kisses her back.

And it doesn't get much better than this, does it? This is it for him. He meant what he wrote to John B, he won't fuck it up with her, especially not because of his trauma with his dad getting inside his head and sabotaging his relationship with her. This is what makes everything worth it.

It brings happy tears to his eyes too.

She can taste the salt of them where their lips meet in the middle. It makes her smile, wrapping her arms around his neck and clenching the letters he mended for her in her fist to keep them from blowing away in the wind, and they both start to laugh into each other's mouths at the poignant feeling they both share but can't quite place.

They pull away from each other to catch their breath after another moment of it, and she can't help but stare. How could she not when she feels like this? It’s less like he’s her boyfriend and more like a piece of her soul has attached itself to his with no hope of letting go in the near future.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," she whispers to him.

Plain and simple. No room for disagreement or a bashful rejection of the compliment. She's pulled back from him enough to hold his gaze and make sure he sees her seriousness, and there isn't anything he can do to refute her statement.

He brushes his nose against hers affectionately, dipping down to kiss her again, but when he leans back to see her face, he can't help himself.

"Ditto."

The rest of the day after their moment on the boat, locked away in their own little world where none of the monsters chasing them could sneak through and ruin it, melts away peacefully. After another half hour spent looking through the box together, of her thanking him over and over again, he hops off of the HMS Pogue onto the dock and extends his hand to her in the most gentlemanly manner possible.

His lips are curved into a smirk as he kneels down on one knee as though she's a revered royal and bows his head in subservience, "Princess Routledge."

Her hand fits in his warm, calloused palm as a perfect match, and she steps off of the boat onto the dock beside him with an expression to match his.

"Captain Maybank," she says in her most regal royalty voice.

Her stellar performance breaks into a laugh they share as he stands and throws his arm around over her shoulder to walk back to the yard. The cardboard box is tucked beneath one of her arms while the other slips around his side to hold him back, and her heart feels full with both the presence of JJ and John B alongside her.

They bury it together.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, and @krisphann

Also, now that it’s over, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments or tags if you’d like to :) I’m curious.

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (14/15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2.4k words

Warning : angst, sad reader, angry reader, dumbass Bucky, Steve being likable for once, smartass Sam, reader finally having some friends, mention of assault, confrontation, drinking, fluff, Bec is Bucky’s sister - Rebecca

Unlike you, Bucky remembered everything. He could never forget that you were hurt because of him — tied to a chair for hours while he couldn't save you — crying on the bathroom floor as he held you. The only thing common in all of those instances was him. You had to go through shit because of him, and yet, you still didn't blame him. You wrapped your arm around him as if he wasn't the cause of your pain. It was clear that his past and the baggage that he came with didn’t bother you. In fact, you understood and accepted his trauma and still loved him. You didn't love him despite his baggage. No, you loved him with every bad thing he offered.

Bucky was sure you were delusional. No sane woman would want to be with the man who was responsible for her captivity, yet you snuggled closer towards him the moment this thought occurred in his head. And Bucky loved you more because of that, and he thought he wasn't physically capable of loving you more than he already did. Bucky knew you reciprocated those feelings, it was very obvious that both of you were a goner for the other. Nevertheless, those emotions were not voiced out loud in your relationship yet. And Bucky wanted it to stay that way.

Bucky decided to sneak out of your bed and house before you could wake up. He was aware it was cowardly of him to just leave without giving you an explanation. But if he stayed to explain, you would have asked him to stay, and he didn't have it in himself to tell you no. You were the ray of sunshine in his stormy life and he could never say no to you. You could ask him to get you the sun, and he would get it for you, even after knowing that it would kill him and the humankind in the process. He would still do it.

But what he couldn’t do was refuse you, so he would have to leave you instead.

***

You woke up a bit disoriented, unaware of the surroundings you were in. It took you a minute to process that you were in your own house and not held captive. Once you came back to your senses instinctively you called for Bucky. He held you while you slept the previous night, so he had to be out in the kitchen. When no response came back, you went out to check for him, only to be met with an empty house.

When you tried to contact him, Bucky was distant. He didn’t respond to your texts and your mind was telling you that something was wrong, but you shoved those thoughts sideways, hoping that maybe he was busy with work. But you both went through something traumatic, you needed him to be with you. If he were busy, he could have at least texted you.

Well, if he was going to ignore you, then you wouldn't be one of those people whose life revolved around their partner. You had a book to write and ambitions that didn’t involve him. 

Two hours later, when there was no word from him, you stared at the blank  screen on your computer. You weren’t unfamiliar with writer's block, but it had been months and you haven't written a single line since the incident in the club involving Rumlow. And now that you were alone with your thoughts, you started doubting everything. Should you have stayed in that corporate 9 to 5 job? You'd have a stable life and a fixed salary. Maybe you could have even got a promotion. Should you have filed a complaint against Rumlow? Bucky wanted you to, he even assured you the cops would be on your side, but you just weren't ready. You realized that by choosing to remain silent, you were sending a predator out in the world. He could do that to other people and you could have stopped it.

A knock on the front door interrupted your train of thoughts and you were grateful for the person on the other side. You assumed it was Bucky, he didn’t need to buzz in because he literally owned the building. Well, it could also be any one of his friends. Sam and Steve also didn't need permission . And the other day when Peter came by to give you your phone (you left it in the club), he didn't buzz in either. 

Seeing Wanda, Peter and Pietro on the door was a good change and God, you needed a change or else you'd go mad with self-loathing. 

“We brought pizza,” Wanda exclaimed, lifting the bag in her hand to show you.

You didn't say anything, just smiled at them thankfully. You were really delighted they were here. Not only that, but you didn't have many friends here, and you considered your work friends, your only friends. It was nice to see that they saw you as a friend too and not just someone they work with.

“And beers,” Pietro chimed in, raising the carton in his hand. 

You looked at Peter before teasing, “Is he even legal, guys?”

Seeing you joke around with them made Wanda happy. Between all the testosterone, she truly needed a female friend, and she was relieved to see you treating them as friends rather than colleagues. And she understood the trauma that must haunt you since your kidnapping. She was an empath and when you didn’t show up at work, she grew worried. 

Half an hour later, most of you were on your second beer. Pietro was on his fourth. That man was fast at everything he did. A movie was playing in the background that none of you paid attention to while everyone was settled on your couch. It wasn't a very spacious couch, you were all squashed into it, but it was too comfortable to leave. You were sitting in between Peter and Wanda, while Pietro was situated beside his sister.

You forgot how nice it felt to have friends and bitch about people to them.

“And just like that he was gone. I woke up and he wasn't there,” you told them, “Hasn't been taking my calls either.”

Pietro took a sip of his drink before saying, “What an ass!”

Wanda raised her bottle, nudging all of you to join her, and said, “Fuck men!” 

“Amen!” you agreed, Peter and Pietro nodded too.

“You should focus on your book,” Pietro advised, “Bucky is gonna regret if he loses someone like you, babe.”

The book. Your book. You couldn't tell them why you weren't focused on the book. It was still a lot to process, and you were not ready, so you nodded before chanting, “Fuck Bucky!”

***

“What are you doing here?” Sam questioned as he and his husband entered the  office.

“Last I checked, I own this place.”

Sam huffed, “I meant why are you here instead of her place, smartass?”

Bucky looked around to avoid the questioning gaze of both Sam and Steve. He hadn’t talked to Steve since the argument they had over you. Of course, they did discuss business as usual, but nothing related to their personal life.

 “She doesn't need me,'' Bucky murmured and looked at Steve. “You must be pleased to know that it's over.”

Bewilderment was clear on the faces of both the men because Bucky exhaled loudly before continuing, “I almost got her killed. It would be wise and safe for her to not be with me.”

Steve finally spoke, “Did she say that?”

When his best friend shook his head ‘no’, Steve sighed in exasperation. “You are an idiot.”

“Yeah, well, that's what you wanted, didn't you?” Bucky retorted, “For me to focus on work and not on her.”

 “I was clearly wrong, pal,” Steve raised his hand in exasperation as if it was obvious, “And I’m sorry for that.” 

“Well, it's over now.”

***

“Before I met Nat. I dated a girl who pretended to be gay,” Wanda scrunched her nose, remembering the awful memory.

“Oh yeah, weird Sallie,” Pietro smiled teasingly, “Did you guys know that when Wanda brought her home, she hit on our dad?”

 “No!” Both you and Peter cried out, stupefied at his words.

“Yeah,” Wanda outlined, “And on Pietro too.”

 “I mean, Mr. Barnes is not like this,” Peter brought the conversation back to Bucky and you sucked in a heavy breath. “I’m sure he had a good reason for doing all of this.”

“Seriously?” you were pretty drunk, but not drunk enough to talk about Bucky. You looked at Wanda and Pietro for support, but they shrugged their shoulders in a manner that said, ‘He's not wrong, though.’

You wanted to go to bed and sleep. But you knew they were right. Bucky would never hurt you intentionally, you knew that. “Do you guys know where he is now?”

***

Since trying to talk some sense into Bucky wasn't working, Sam and Steve retaliated back to talk about business.

“Clint is officially out of here,” Steve reported, “Torturing him would just create more ruckus. Rumlow is behind us because he wants his weapons in the government, and Clint would just be a casualty in all this shit. He has three kids.”

Sam huffed, “We told Laura. Her wrath would be worse for Clint than our fists.”

Bucky didn't say anything and just nodded. Steve could feel something was on Bucky's mind, wrapping his arms to his chest, he raised a brow towards his best friend.

“I’m just tired of all of this,” Bucky said sadly, “Is this what we left Rumlow for, pal? You have a kid at home, Wanda has a wife, I have ma and Bec and I haven't met them in years, in fear of someone following me. And now — Well, now I’ve lost the girl too."

Steve and Sam looked at their friend with sympathy. They knew the toll their work took on all of them. Hell, they had a four-year-old daughter at home, and could barely sleep at night, always terrified of losing their kid because of their job.

Sam was about to ask Bucky to suggest an alternative that would help all of them could to make it out of there and just work on the club and not some shady business. Suddenly, the office door flung open and on purpose, everyone’s hand reached for the gun in their waistband. But in walked you with a beer bottle in your hand and a pizza slice in another.

“JAMES BUCKY BARNES!” You exclaimed, your steps wavering a little as you walked towards him. Oh, and you looked royally pissed.

Instantly, Bucky was on his feet and making his way towards you, to hold you — to be near you. And before you could say anything, he was engulfing his arms around your waist, his head settled at the crane of your neck and you frowned. Okay, You did not expect that. You thought he would ignore you, and you would give him a piece of your mind before leaving.

Sober you would have asked him to have a mature conversation like adults, but tipsy you wanted to flip him off and leave. Your arms hung around your sides awkwardly, trying to understand the situation before finally pushing him away.

“You left me,” you spoke so softly that if Bucky wasn't so close, he wouldn't have heard it. “I needed you and you left me alone.”

Bucky’s heart broke at your words. He didn't consider how his rash decision would affect you. You were kidnapped by the person who assaulted you. Fuck, he cursed himself. He was supposed to be protecting you, not hurting you. You sounded so hurt that Bucky wanted to get on his knees and ask for forgiveness. He was so focused on your physical injuries, he did not even realize he was hurting you emotionally.

Steve cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable to present. He interrupted and took his husband’s hand in his, “We’re going to go.”

Before they could leave, you shifted your attention towards Steve and pointed a finger at him. “Why do you hate me?”

Steve stammered, he didn't expect you to put him in a spot like this, but you had a tad more than necessary liquid courage in your system.

“Doll,” Bucky breathed, and you moved your gaze back towards him. Steve took the opportunity and left the room with Sam.

You were on the verge of tears by now — both of you were — Bucky wasn't a man who could voice his feelings, but with you, all of his armor came shattering down. With you — he would tell you his vulnerabilities and fears just so he could let you in. You meant so much to him that the fear of losing you blinded his sense of understanding. He realized that he acted immaturely and by doing so, he almost lost you.

“You hurt me,” Your voice wavered, the traitorous tears made their way down your eyes, and Bucky couldn't see you like that. Instinctively, he stretched his hands to wrap around you, but stopped, “Can I hold you?”

You sniffled and nodded, and Bucky engulfed you flush against his chest. After a while, you snaked your hands around his shoulder too, and a sob broke down from your throat.

He didn't remember how long he held you like this, but after a while, he picked you up and made his way to the couch. He stood before you and then slid one hand up to your cheek. Likewise, he brushed his thumb across your cheek. And then you slowly straddled his waist as you both settled down on the soft sofa. Bucky’s hands fell naturally to your hips to pull you closer.

“I love you, Bucky,” you whispered, once your tears suspended. You enveloped your arms around him and pressed your forehead against his.

Bucky didn’t know whether you meant it or not. You were pretty drunk. He hoped you did.

“I love you, doll,” he confessed as he kissed the crown of your head. He noticed that you were on the brink of sleep, your breathing even, and you looked so peaceful in his arms.

 He felt at ease — calm even with you in his arms and in that moment he decided he was never letting you go no matter what.

TAGS :  @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​ @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @boofy1998​ @marvel-3407​ @mybuck​ @priii​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @ladydmalfoy​ @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy​ @maladaptivexxdaydreaming​ @sabrinathesimp

Taglist for future stuff.

[going-dead]

Lightning Scars and Listening Ears

Phic phight prompt by @datawyrms : Danny Phantom's jumpsuit is hiding a secret he'd rather not reveal to anyone. (feel free to be metaphorical if you want.) l

Team Human: @currentlylurking​

Most citizens of Amity Park often forgot that Phantom wasn’t human. Sure he would fly through the skies, turn invisible, and shoot ectoplasm at the ghosts who would attack the city on a daily basis, but the way he acted when not saving the city always seemed so alive. That’s where the problem lied though. The ghost kid wasn’t alive, a fact that Amity Park never actually thought much about.

Phantom was playing around with some kids in the park when it all happened. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to see the boy play with the younger citizens of the city, under their parents supervision most of the time. Seeing him give them piggyback rides and playing tag was actually a common sight when there were no ghosts to fight. Phantom had six different kids hanging off of his arms and legs, apparently trying to tackle him and get him to fall down. The group of parents laughed at the sight as the teenage hero fell to the ground admitting his defeat in a dramatic flourish. “Ahh you got me! Foul villains, you will regret this!” He laughed as he lunged at the closest kid and launched a tickle attack. Childish squeels rang out as the uncaptured children ran trying to avoid being tickled. The little girl in his arms was finally released from her attacker when she turned on Phantom and started to tickle him back. His laughter attracted the other kids who scattered and they joined the counter attack.

“I yield I yield!” He flailed his arms as a dozen little hands tickled any spot they could reach. The kids slowly let up their assault leaving the teen gasping for breath.

One of the children, the girl who started the attack on Phantom, pulled on his arm. “Mr. Phantom? What’s that did you get a owie?” She asked pointing to his neck where part of his jumpsuit wrinkled down revealing a few red raised streaks maring his skin.

Phantom froze eyes jumping over to the adults just a few feet over who had stopped their conversation to try to see what the young girl was asking about. He quickly pulled the collar of his suit back into place. He gave the girl and the other kids surrounding him a pained smile. “Yeah I did get an owie. Don’t worry though I’m fine, doesn’t even hurt anymore.” Suddenly blue frost escaped his lips, the adults sitting nearby never saw him more relieved to have a ghost show up than in that moment. He gave quick goodbyes to the kids before shooting off to find the day's threat to the city.

All the adults gathered waved over their respective kids. While they trusted Phantom to get rid of the threat it was always smart to stay inside during a ghost attack. A loud boom sounded in the direction where Phantom flew off, shaking the ground. They all gave each other uncertain looks. “My house is closest we can take shelter there.” One of the men said leading everyone away.

After a block of running the group was almost to shelter when the ghost fight moved over their heads. The adults grabbed onto the children doing their best to shield them from the flying debris. They held the kids against their chests as they watched the sky in horror. They didn’t recognize the attacking ghost, but it was certainly doing a number on Phantom. The rest of the battle lasted at most a minute when Phantom managed to suck up the ghost into his thermos before he seemed to wobble in the sky and falling to the ground creating a small crater where he landed.

The man who was leading the group passed off the kid he was holding to the man next to him. “David what are you-?”

“Brian just hold her.” He ran over to the fallen teen and picked him up in a fireman's carry and rushed the rest of the way to his house.

Once he arrived he kicked open the door and placed the teen onto the couch in his living room. He looked down trying to assess the situation. Phantom’s jumpsuit was torn in numerous places exposing spots of his arms, neck, and chest that had splatterings of green ectoplasm across the exposed flesh. He started taking the rest of the jumpsuit off of the teen wanting to make sure there were no hidden injuries underneath. Behind him he could hear his husband and the other parents come through the door. “Get me a wet rag and some warm water!” He yelled behind him.

Once he was handed the items he started working on cleaning up the cuts and wiping off the ectoplasm. He silently thanked any higher being out there that he took a first aid class a few years back. The wounds actually seemed less severe than what David initially thought, that or the kid had some seriously advanced healing. One of the parents led the kids upstairs while the rest of them crowded around David and Phantom.

Once Phantom was as patched up as he could be David finally sat back and actually took a full look at the boy. His breath caught in his throat as he examined the body infront of him. In the end all he could get out was.“Oh my god. He’s- he’s dead.”

“What the hell do you mean? Of course he’s not, I can clearly see him breathing right now.” One of the parents protested.

David shook his head. “No.” He went to run his hands down his face before spotting the blood- no the ectoplasm covering them and settled for grabbing onto his husband for support. “No, I mean he’s a ghost.”

“Well yeah he’s a ghost it’s not like that’s news now is it?” Brian said running his hand up and down his husband's back.

“You guys don’t get it.” David pulled back. “Think! Look!” He ran his hand through his hair, staining it green. “Look at him.” He pointed at the teen’s unconscious body. There were lightning shaped scars running all over the boy’s body, from the base of his neck trailing all the way down to his ankles. Those weren’t the only scars marring his body though, small scars were scattered all over his body, there was a rather large one on his abdomen in the same spot where he was hit the other week fighting off a ghost who was attacking the high school. The gathered adults looked back at Phantom’s face. As he slept he almost looked like a normal teenager, there were small bags under his eyes, his closed eyes hid the toxic green color, and the glow surrounding him was almost nonexistent.

Three things seemed to dawn on the parents all at once.

1: Phantom at some point had died

2: He died young, at most he was just out of middle school when it happened.

3: From the looks of it he didn’t die in his sleep but painfully. They all silently hoped that at least it wasn’t drawn out.

As they all looked at each other they couldn’t help but think of their own children who were just upstairs. Did Phantom have a family? Did his parents miss their little boy? Do they know that Phantom was their son? Even worse, the boy had a jumpsuit on when he died, was his parents the cause of his premature death?

Of course if Phantom was conscious, didn’t have to worry about the whole identity thing, and could read their minds the boy would quickly put their minds to rest responding; yes, no he sees them daily, god no, and sorta it really was more of a case of teenage stupidity than his parents fault though.

Two of those issues though were quickly resolved as two white rings shocked the group out of their grief for a boy they hardly knew. The rings traveled across the boy’s body replacing bare skin with street clothes and white hair with black. Everyone looked at Phantom(?) confused, the boy in front of them was very unghost-like and the scratch on his face that was previously bleeding green now had a red where the scab was forming.

“What the fu- wait isn’t that the Fenton kid, Danny I think?” David asked looking back at the other parents who were in the same amount of shock that he was. Actually he was positive it was him, his older sister Jazz used to babysit their daughter and he would sometimes come along. If someone was going to respond they were cut off as the boy in front of them started to stir and open his eyes. He sat up almost falling off the couch in his panic, thankfully David was quick enough to catch him. “Woah there Danny, be careful you took a pretty bad beating out there. Hell I’m surprised you’re already awake to be honest kid.”

Danny gave him a thankful smile as he steadied himself. He froze once he caught a glimpse of his hair, his eyes shot down to his clothes. He looked back up and noticed the group of adults in front of him. “Now before you jump to any conclusions there’s a very reasonable explanation for this, or there will be just give me a few minutes.” “Wait so does this mean you’re not dead?” Brian asked.

“Brian you can’t just ask that! What if it’s a sensitive subject?” David scolded his husband then looked over at Danny. “Sorry about him.”

Danny looked over to the men who for some reason had hope in their eyes. “What? It’s fine. I mean I guess no- well yes- no- sorta- it’s complicated.”

As Danny looked at the numerous questioning eyes he sighed. It’s not like he could convince them that it was a trick of the light or something. And he did owe them since they patched him up better than he would have been able to at home in his bedroom. But before he could start he turned to David. “I’ll tell you guys everything but first um… is that my ectoplasm in your hair and on your hands? Because if so you probably should wash that off, prolonged exposure isn’t harmful per say but you could start to glow or something if you don’t wash it off soon.”

David looked down to his hands, apparently just now remembering he was still covered in the boy’s ectoplasm and rushed to the bathroom to wash it off. He’d worry about why the sight of his own blood- ectoplasm didn’t phase Danny at all later.

Once David returned, now free of ectoplasm, Danny sat down and started from the beginning. At one point in the story he must have started to cry because he was handed a tissue box, which he accepted with a thanks. By the end he wasn’t the only one with tears in his eyes, one of the adults had to go into the kitchen to compose themselves. Danny didn’t really understand why though, sure he sort of half died, but he didn’t see why it would affect any of them. “Hey! It’s fine, I’m fine it’s not a big deal! I mean it’s not like it only happened to me. Vlad went through it too like 20 years ago.” Danny seized up after he said that. “Don’t tell him you know about him though! Me not telling anyone about him is the only reason he’s not trying to fully kill me when we fight. That and he has a weird obsession with my mom and me.”

David paused at that. “So you’re telling us that not only did you go through a highly traumatic situation at a young age, but the only adult that even knows about it has tried to kill you multiple times?”

“I mean I guess but Jazz, my sister, knows about it too and she’s older than me and my friends.”

“Danny she’s also still a kid, an older one sure, but she is not an adult. Even if you didn’t go to your parents, was there no one else you could have talked to about it with? A therapist maybe?” David asked.

Danny laughed. “Ah no, Jazz tried having me go to the school therapist but she turned out to be a ghost who wanted to try to cause as much pain as possible. She even almost killed Jazz in front of the whole school.”

“Dear god.” David sighed. “All right, we will all keep your secret on one condition.”  Danny cringed and looked down at his lap, of course there was a catch. He just hoped it wasn’t anything too bad like letting them run a bunch of experiments on him whenever they wanted to. His ghost injuries were bad enough to hide from others, he didn’t need to have to explain away needle marks or something. “You’ll see Brian once a week for therapy sessions. He’s a licensed psychiatrist.”

“Wait what?” Danny looked up confused.

“Oh don’t worry I won’t charge you of course since we are forcing you to do this, and obviously you can choose the day of the week. I usually don't work fridays or the weekends but if those are the only days that work I’m sure we can rearrange some of our family time to make room for you.” Brian smiled. “Now it’s getting pretty late isn’t it? I’m sure it’s about time everyone here starts to head home now hmm? Of course if you aren’t feeling well enough Danny I can call your parent’s up and just let them know you’ll be staying here. I’ll just tell them you were injured in a ghost fight, not exactly lying now is it?”

“Um no I’m fine enough to walk home thank you though.” Danny said. Everyone started saying their goodbyes and calling the children down to get them ready to leave. Danny was the last one left, he was almost out the door when he was stopped by David handing him a piece of paper.

“Here are our numbers, I also wrote down where Brian’s office is, you can set up your appointment over text. As well as our address, you can stop by or call us for any reason Danny and I mean it okay, any.”

Danny looked down at the paper and pocketed it with a nod. As he left he felt almost lighter for some reason. Maybe having adults who knew and didn’t want to kill him but actually wanted to help him wasn’t so bad after all.

[lustbile-archive]

Can We See Some ID?

LucasxReaderxHendery

Word Count: 6.4K

Summary/Warnings: Next installment of Club X. Smut, threesome, double penetration, anal & vaginal sex, semi-public (alleyway) sex, both Hendery and Lucas being kinda suspicious, and as always blood and sharp object play. (also oof this is the longest one I’ve written yet)

Apart of my Club X Series: Masterlist

(Recommend reading other works (especially Mark’s) but it’s not requiered)

You’d be lying if you said the atmosphere of the club hadn’t rattled you from the moment you and your friends stepped in. The lights and blaring music was enough to shake you, but the way you were swept in by your friends, first to a crowded booth, and then almost immediately to the bar almost gave you whiplash.

The amount of writhing bodies worried you a bit admittedly when you had first walked in, but something about the air, the energy that ran rapid across every square inch of the place made it feel like your brain was made of cotton. That and you hadn’t gotten to sit down for long, before the group was standing again, moving in search of drinks. And a part of you had wanted to stay in the booth with your friend and the mysterious boy that stayed back, but not only did you not want to intrude on whatever spark that was dancing between them, but it was almost like there was an invisible force pushing you away from the booth, telling you that you needed to leave that very second.

It felt like everything in Club X had been created to move at a million miles per second, and you could only somewhat push down and ignore the nagging voice in the back of your mind that told you something was off.

You smiled regardless as you leaned against the old wood of the bar, the small amount of alcohol that the bartender had provided you swam through your veins and made you feel airy.

The sweet candy-like flavor of the drink only helped to smother the voice, but it had also left you feeling woozy. Feeling like a child who had gorged themselves on too many halloween candies, you dropped the glass down onto the bar with a loud clunk and leaned away, desperately needing a breath of outside air.

You peered over the heads of the bodies that swirled around you, looking desperately for the friend who had dragged you all here in the first place. You’d feel weird just disappearing, even if it was only for a moment, without warning or letting anyone know where you had gone.

You could feel a dopey grin fill your face when you caught a glimpse of where she stood, too sloshed with varying emotions to be concerned with how foolish you may have looked.

You tripped slightly over your own feet as you moved closer to where she stood, silently scolding yourself for how funny you had let yourself feel regardless of consuming such a little amount of alcohol, but you didn’t feel drunk. No, it was something else that ran around underneath your skin and made you feel like every step you took was about an inch above the floor you moved on. Something you couldn’t really feel or see or taste, but you knew it was there as it warmed every inch of your body and turned your legs to jelly.

And it had seemed the exact same force had taken its hold on your friend, as when you reach her you have to speak her name about three times before she turns to look at you, reluctantly turning away from the eye contact that she was holding with the boy she had brought you all here to meet. Her eyes are dazed when they meet yours, in a way that you could only read as love sick, a soft smile pulled across her lips, and your briefly aware of the way one her hands is tangled with his, while his free hand is not so discreetly crawling its way under her skirt.

“Hey,” you speak softer than you had intended, a soft slowness coating your words like honey, but she seems to hear you perfectly fine when her eyebrows dart up in curiosity, “I’m gonna step out for a minute, get fresh air and maybe take a smoke.”

The way she nods is endearing, almost like a child who had just been told something that they’d consider sacred knowledge, “okay,” she pauses, the words almost visibly forming in her mind, “be safe and I have my phone so call if you need me, we’ll probably be back at the booth by the time you get back.”

“Hm, tight,” you mirror her nodding, turning towards the entrance, “love you.”

Her response of ‘love you too,’ is only a whisper as she says it at your back as you walk away.

It feels as if the bodies of the other club goers are easier to pass through as you walk to the empty entrance, as if they step away to make room for you to pass. You’re to the door much faster than it took to get to the booth, and it's almost as if the space in front of the entrance was another universe with the way that people seem to be avoiding it as if they’d get in trouble if they got too close.

If the entrance was purgatory, the outside of the club was heaven. The cool bite of the soft wind was welcomed by your heated skin. The way the atmosphere felt was such a blunt contrast you had to take a moment to adjust, a sharp inhale of air filled your lungs and your eyes fluttered closed as you wrapped your arms around yourself in a tight hold.

“Is the club that rough these days?” you jump and your eyes shoot open at the unexpected voice. Your head turns, and the moment you make eye contact with one of the bouncers, you feel your skin warm in embarrassment at being caught enjoying the fresh air a bit too much.

“Sorry,” you stutter out, stepping away from the entrance and standing on the opposite side from them, “I forgot you guys were standing out here, and it was getting a little stuffy in there.”

“You’re fine,” the other reassures, his voice has a deeper timber to it than the other man’s, and the way he leans his shoulder against the wall accentuates how long his legs are, showing that he’s also the taller of the two, “we just don’t usually see people walk out as much as they walk in.”

Your confusion makes its home on your face through your furrowed eyebrows at the way his words trail off at the end of his sentence, and the way his soft and confident smile falls as his eyes trail your body. You dart your eyes in search of the other man, hoping that you can escape the intense look in his eyes, only to find that he’s looking at you in the same way. You feel your heartbeat pick up in your chest, the feeling getting rapid enough that you can feel it in your throat. You can’t help but shift under their stares, your lips tucking between your teeth to chew on as you try to figure out what you could have said or done to make them look at you so intensely.

You introduce yourself, your name slipping past your lips in an offering before you can even think, and the sudden change in conversation seems to break them from whatever weird spell they had found themselves under as they smile in recognition.

“Lucas,” the taller man nods as a greeting before leaning towards the other man.

“Hendery,” his quiet laugh disjoints the syllables slightly, but not enough that you can’t understand, and there’s something about the knowledge of their names that warms your chest and puts you slightly at ease. You no longer feel as on edge as you did only moments before, and you can even feel your body subconsciously shifting closer to where they stood.

“Well,” you start, glancing around the empty street and picking at the cuff of your long sleeved shirt, “I don’t want to bother you two while you’re working, and I should probably be getting back to my friends.”

You feel your reluctance as you speak, not fully convinced that you want to pull yourself away from the two handsome men. Something about the way they continue to stare at you makes you feel a turning in your stomach that is a stark difference from the one you felt in the club. It’s as if you forgot the reason you came out here in the first place, as you stand there almost reveling in their attention. You have to stop yourself from jolting in excitement when Hendery speaks, stopping you from moving back through the entrance.

“Well, we’re not particularly busy,” he glances at Lucas who simply nods in agreement, “and it's usually only us two so we wouldn't mind the new face.”

You’re momentarily reminded of the fact that they had let your group of friends enter the club without asking for even one ID and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from reminding them of this fact when he mentions them not being busy. Instead you smile, and begin to take the handful of steps to get to where they stand.

“You got a light?” you ask as you pull a half empty pack of cigarettes from your small purse, a curious arch in your eyebrow as you silently beg for an excuse to stay.

“I do,” Lucas nods, pulling a cherry red lighter from his pants pocket, “if you’ve got one to spare?”

“Of course,” you place one of the cigarettes between your teeth before holding the box out to him. You feel your heart stutter when he leans closer and, instead of using his hand, he bites one that sticks out, putting his lips far closer to your skin then you had thought they would ever get. You tell yourself the quick wink he offers before leaning away is your imagination, and instead offer the box to Hendery, who simply shakes his head in disinterest.

You hear the spark of the lighter as you return the pack to your purse, looking back up in time to see Lucas releasing the smoke from his lungs with his head tilted back, and if you weren’t hyper aware of the way Hendery continued to devour you with his eyes, you would have probably allowed yourself to drool a bit over the way his neck stretches and his veins pop out.

“C’mere,” he slurs, the cigarette still bitten between his teeth as he nods for you to come closer.

You lean closer again, the cigarette balanced between your lips as you wait for him to light it, trying desperately to not crumble at the way the proximity forces you to stare at his warm skin illuminated by the soft orange of the flame.

He’s only centimeters away when the fire is blown out by the wind. He clicks his tongue in disappointment and tries again, only for it to face the same fate, and you can’t help but wonder why the wind hadn’t affected it when lighting his.

“Here,” Hendery speaks softly as he leans closer, his cupped hand lifting to block the end of the cigarette. Lucas hums in appreciation, and the side of Hendery’s hand brushes softly against your cheek making your eyes flutter closed as the cigarette is successfully lit.

The lighter is pulled away, as well as Hendery’s hand, making your breath quietly rush out through your nose as you lean back. Your nerves once again thud against your skin as you breathe the smoke into your lungs, the amount of time it's been since the last time you had smoke made the taste and smoke burn at the back of your throat and you're clearing your throat before it can make you cough.

“You smoke often?” Hendery asks, no trace of judgment in his tone, curious at your reaction and simply trying to build conversation as Lucas mirrored you in puffing on his cigarette.

“Nah,” you answer honestly, shaking your head softly, “it’s more of a social thing or when I get pretty stressed.”

“You stressed about something?” Lucas asks like he already knows the answer, his lips pulling into a crooked smile and the smoke spills from his lips as he speaks. His eyes widen in curiosity and Hendery lets out a soft hum in concern, and you can't help but warm at their worry about you.

“You could say that,” you nod once you pluck your own cigarette from your lips, your finger tapping on it to knock off the growing ashes, “just life I suppose, nothing major or different than what everyone deals with.”

“You know what they say is a really good stress reliever,” Hendery starts, his eyes flicking to Lucas as they exchange what you assume is a silent understanding. You hum in curiosity, shifting slightly closer to hear him.

“Sex,” the way he says it is far too casual, his tone steady as if he was recommending a new restaurant. You feel nervous laughter building up in your chest, your face warming at being scandalized, and you turn in hopes to find Lucas in the same state at his friend’s boldness, only to see him chuckling deeply in agreement.

“Yeah, what is it they’re calling it these days?” Lucas pauses, pretending to wrack his brain for an answer before grinning, “post nut clarity?”

“Yeah okay,” you huff, dropping your half finished cigarette to the ground and digging the toe of your shoe against the end to snuff out the fire, “I'll keep that in mind if I ever get the offer.”

Your sarcastic tone and attitude gets stuck in your throat when you meet their hardened stares as they burn against your skin. You can’t help but let out another nervous and confused laugh before you begin to catch on to what their dark eyes are telling you.

“You don’t mean…” you trail off, your hand lifting as you move an accusatory finger between the two of them, “are you suggesting I have sex with one of you?”

“Not one,” Lucas says quietly yet bluntly, taking his turn in shaking his head as he snuffs his cigarette against the cinder of the building he leans against, his hands slipping into the pockets of his pants as he lets his eyes trail the length of your body.

“Both of us preferably,” Hendery finishes the thought as he moves towards you, his own hand lifting to return to the side of your face and the tips of his fingers brushing against your cheek bone, making you shiver before your eyes shift back to Lucas for confirmation.

“We know you want us,” Lucas speaks so confidently it nearly knocks the wind from your chest. Your floundering for a response when he continues with unwavering sureness in his voice, “and we both want you so I don’t see why not.”

You’re standing frozen once the words are in the air, neither of the boys speaking further to let you collect your thoughts and wrap them around the offer. You’d be lying if you ever tried to claim you didn’t want them, the arousal that’s begun to bite at your lower stomach making sure you know that, and you’d be a bigger liar if you said the idea of them both having their way with you didn’t set you skin ablaze with a dangerous excitement.

“Well we can’t do it here,” the voice of reason in your mind makes you speak one last time before its smothered by Hendery’s hand that still pets at your skin and the unimpressed look Lucas throws your direction, “aren’t you on the clock?”

“We can do whatever we want,” Hendery attempts to reassure, a cocky spike in his voice that makes your stomach turn.

“We can round the corner if you want,” Lucas says, nodding his head in the direction of the alley beside the club. His eyes dart to look at Hendery, who stiffens slightly beside you, before he offers another, slightly confusing reassurance, “it's still in the perimeter of the club so we’ll be fine.”

You can’t help but feel detached from the ‘we’ he speaks about as he speaks more to Hendery, the boy in question hesitantly nodding before he turns to you, “we know you want to, so why don’t you come have some fun? No one will see you unless you want them to.”

You assume he means the shadows of the alley will protect you versus the view you’d be putting on right on the street, but something about his words hits you in the gut. The same dizzy feeling you had felt in the confines of the club were returning and you could feel your stomach tightening in anticipation. There was no doubt found anywhere in your body anymore, and you start to think that messing around with these boys in a dark alley is exactly what you’re meant to do tonight.

Before you can even form a coherent response, you dumbly nod at Lucas in agreement as Hendery starts walking towards the alley. Regardless of the want and excitement that’s building in you, you can’t help but hesitate where you stand, and with his dark eyes still glued to you, Lucas takes notice of your nerves and with a gesturing hand encourages you to follow in Hendery’s steps.

You nod once again, before you will your feet to move, the same feeling of hovering slightly above ground hits you again and you fear that the world may pass you too quickly. It’s not until you stand at the entrance of the alley, curiously watching Hendery as he leans against the wall, are you knocked into reality by Lucas gently shoving you until you're crashing into Hendery’s chest.

In your shock, your fingers wrap around the fabric of his shirt and his move to steady you by your waist. It’s hard not to get overwhelmed by how close he suddenly was, and he seems almost as shocked as you as he stares into your eyes with his eyebrows raised high.

You’re sure that you could get lost and locked into place by his eyes, if it weren’t for the feeling of Lucas’ hands grabbing you again. One of them reaches down to grab your leg at the bend of your knee and hike it around Hendery’s hip, both of you gasping at the way it presses you two against each other so suddenly.

“You two are so cute,” Lucas starts, a teasing glint to his voice, while his other hand impatiently reaches under your skirt and begins ripping the seams of your underwear until the scraps of fabric falls at your feet, “but I’ve waited too long for this for you two to start acting coy now.”

You’re only given milliseconds to try to decipher what he means by waiting for this before you feel his rough fingers gripping the hem of your shirt and shoving it up towards your chest. He catches your bralette on the way towards your collar bones, releasing your chest to the cool wind of the night and you can’t help the gasp of shock you let out at the feeling of the fabric of Hendery’s shirt brushing the pebbling skin.

Hendery’s hands slowly return to your skin from where they were knocked away by Lucas’ impatient actions, and you look at him with pleading eyes, asking silently for something you yourself are unaware of. He quietly coos at you in an attempt to calm your rapidly changing emotions, but is quickly interrupted by Lucas’ quick actions.

“You’re gonna be real good for us hm?” Lucas asks rhetorically, his blunt nails running up the back of your thighs. A shiver wracks your body at the feeling, and warmth fills your chest when you see that your response, paired with the soft pout that rests on your mouth, resparks the cocky nature Hendery had earlier. The soft smirk he wears at your already submissive nature and the dark chuckle lets out makes an evil tingling feeling run under every inch of your skin.

“Please,” the word slips from your teeth before you can even think of it, and you're curling into Hendery’s chest while tilting your hips back into Lucas’ hands before you could even consider how shameless you may look.

“Hendery,” Lucas addresses the other man, ignoring your pleads as his hand falls to softly pet at the wetness that’s beginning to collect between your legs, “we’ll need a little distracting while I get everything prepped okay?”

“Yeah,” the word comes out wrapped in a sigh before he moves on hand to grab your jaw. He shows no hesitation before his mouth molds against yours, his greedy tongue immediately pushing past your lips and swallowing your moans as his other hand moves to roll one of your sensitive nipples harshly between his finger tips.

You’re completely oblivious to the soft clicking of a cap from behind you, as you try to memorize the heat of Hendery’s mouth and taste of his tongue. You’re equally as oblivious to the reassuring warning Lucas offers, but there’s no way of ignoring the cool and thick liquid that rests on his fingers as they brush your skin from your clit to the tip of your tailbone.

You pull away from Hendery’s mouth, gasping as your head turns slightly in Lucas’ direction. The tingling feeling his fingers and the gel had left behind had you reeling and the two boys chuckle darkly in response.

“Of course you have lube,” Hendery says accusingly, yet slightly impressed.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Lucas asks rhetorically, his slick fingers returning to your body and finding their way to the entrance you hadn’t anticipated being used when they invited you to the alley, but considering you hadn’t expected being here at all, you find it hard to be surprised by anything the two of them could throw at you, “I had a feeling we’d be sharing our person and I’m not a big fan of taking turns if I’m being honest.”

You don’t get a chance to ask what he could have meant by their person before Hendery brings your mouth back to his. He swallows every whimper and whine that slips from your mouth at the cold sensation of Lucas’ fingers, and greedily laps up the pleased yet confused gasp you let out when one of his long digits presses into you. You feel your muscles relax as you melt against the both of them, the taste of Hendery’s lips and his playful fingers tugging at your skin does distract you from Lucas’ actions, yet you still find yourself surprised by how pliant you are to his explorative nature. He only moves his long finger in and out of you a few times before your eyes are rolling back at the foriegn but weirdly pleasurable feeling.

“You good baby?” Lucas’ deep voice rasps in your ear, and another cocky laugh is breathed against the shell of your ear when you nod to your best ability as you arch back into him, “you’re lucky we can do what we do, or I’m not sure you’d be enjoying this as much as you are right now.”

“You’re being too obvious don’t you think?” Hendery asks when you pull away to let out a confused hum, a slightly disappointed rumble to his voice as you move your still hungry mouth to his neck.

“What? I think they should be able to tell by now that there’s something up don’t you think?” Lucas gets more confident as he speaks while his words and unrelenting pace only works to jumble your brain further, “How the club makes them feel, the willingness to just do whatever we ask, how relaxed they are? Hell I said something about our person earlier, I'm sure they’re starting to catch up a little bit hm?”

“You have such a big mouth,” Hendery retorts, not in an insulting tone, more just stating a fact, “if you’re so confident in our abilities, how about you add another finger?”

“Gladly,” Lucas’ tone is smug and you feel your heart rate pick up at what the challenge means for you. This time you hear the telling noise of the lube being released from its bottle and feel the new wave of cool it has as it lands directly above where his finger moves inside of you. As his finger leaves your body to collect the gel, you try to remind yourself to relax, but when he moves to press two of his amazing long fingers into your body, you’re shocked at how easily they slide in. There’s still a tension there that’s impossible to ignore, but you still flounder and whine a bit at the ease he has at pulling you apart. Whatever abilities of Lucas’ that Hendery had doubted earlier, they are definitely at work on your body as you all but turn to jelly against them, but you couldn’t for the life of you wrap your mind around what could be possibly happening to you as you’re pressed between the two men.

“How about you start having your fun Hendery?” Lucas asks, taking your neglected nipple between the fingers of his own free hand and running the flat of his tongue up the skin of your neck, while his fingers gently scissor inside you, “we’ll be ready to in no time so how about you get us really started.”

The huff he lets out is transparent, the eagerness to really get started on something shining through completely as his hand falls from its place from your jaw to start to pull and tug at the waistband of his pants.

Your eyes shut at the noise of his belt being undone, and you feel your heart in your throat when you feel him pull himself from the fabric, his damp tip brushing against the skin of your thighs.

Lucas’ hand falls from your chest to grab at your thigh again, his fingers rough as they hike your leg higher onto Hendery’s hip while he continues to spread you open and Hendery slowly jerks himself off against you.

“God please,” you groan into Hendery’s neck, the feeling of Lucas’ fingers and the stickiness Hendery leaves behind on your skin has you reeling an impatient. The two men only laugh quietly at your desperation, and Lucas groans when your hips start moving on their own along with his movements.

“Get it on dude, can’t keep us waiting can you?” Lucas taunts before moving his mouth back onto your skin, hoping the challenge will get the other boy to work faster.

There’s a grumble from Hendery that rattles your chest as he starts to lose the grasp on his own patience, and as you shiver between them he starts dragging his tip against your sensitive skin.

“Hendery please,” your voice feels like thick honey as it leaves your throat, “I need it so bad please.”

Lucas hums against your neck at your pleading, and you hear Hendery let out a deep huff at your tone. There’s a moment where he shuffles his feet, adjusting his stance with his free hand wrapping around your waist, before he starts to move inside you. The feeling of him entering you, and Lucas’ still moving digits throws you off. The sudden intrusion makes your back arch as you lean back against Lucas, making them both laugh again at your reaction.

Once he’s fully inside you, he moves his hand to take over the job of holding your leg high on his hip, and Lucas takes the opportunity of a free hand to wrap it loosely around your neck.

You can already feel that you are losing yourself when Hendery starts moving, his thrust moving at the same pace as Lucas’ fingers. The fact that you’re standing in an alley out in the open completely escapes your mind as you start to moan out into the cold air.

The roughness of Hendery’s thrusts knocks your hands off his shirt, your greedy hand leaving behind stretched fabric. They flail in the air only a few moments before they latch onto the wrist of the hand Lucas has around your neck, holding on desperately and digging your nails into his skin while your eyes roll back into your skull.

Your so caught up with the feeling of Hendery moving inside you and the way Lucas’ hand interrupts the blood flow to your head that you only somewhat notice the feeling of his fingers moving inside you. You whimper at the loss of sensation, but the noises are destroyed by interrupting moans and cries.

Lucas’ teeth latch onto your jaw right above where his fingers hold you, the bite and burn of your skin and the way Hendery grunts in front of you distracts you from the sound of Lucas undoing his pants and the lube being opened again. It’s not until you feel him pressing into you from behind do you feel like you might genuinely fall apart.

Lucas’ feet shuffle a bit behind you, pressing you further into Hendery with his hand still around your neck. Hendery’s thrusts slow down when he realizes what is happening, and both boys start to coo at you in encouragement.

“You can take me hm?” Lucas asks rhetorically, as he presses only an inch inside you, the stretch much less than what you had expected, but still jarring with Hendery still stretching you out on his own. You never had expected to be as calm as you were pressed tightly between their chests, but something about their breaths and their hands kneading against your skin makes you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. Some nagging voice inside your head tells you to relax and take anything they throw at you and before you know it, you’re whining for more.

Lucas thrusts gently, adding more and more lube as he moves deeper inside you. You’re sure that you’ve never felt more full nor held in your entire life and shivers start to wrack your body as you try to shift back onto where Lucas tries to move slowly.

“Fuck, so impatient,” Hendery groans as he watches you desperately move, an air of arrogance filling the space between you, “I never thought it would be like this.”

“It’s wild huh?” Lucas asks over your shoulder, once again speaking as if you’re not between them as you deeply breath trying to collect your sanity, “fuck it feels so good.”

You and Hendery both groan in agreement, making Lucas grin into your neck, and with both of them pressed flush against you, you feel your body relaxing and going lax as you softly clench around them.

There’s a moment of pause, where their hands roam your skin as they adjust around you. Both of your legs now find their way hooked around Hendery’s hips, his arms hooked around the backs of your knees, as Lucas’ grip around your upper thighs and ass, helping to support you while also holding you spread open for him. Each of your hands grip onto their shirts as they press their chests tightly against you, and once you’ve caught your breath and gently nod at them, they begin moving.

Lucas’ hands do most of the work as they start to bounce you slightly between them, the movement forcing them to knock into you at the same pace, stuffing you full each time.

You feel your toes curling against your shoes as you flex around them. The pleasure you receive from both of them hard and warm inside you making you start to feel delirious once again. Their grunts and your moans fill the hollow space of the alley and you finally start to let yourself succumb to the pleasure.

You can feel your chest moving with their pace, your head tilting back as your jaw slowly opens. Your arousal growing and dripping around them, and with the amount of lube Lucas laid on your skin and his, you're soaking.

They stay at a moderate pace, moving you up and down slowly but pushing deep inside you every time, “you love this don’t you?” Lucas rasps in your ear making a shiver run up your spine and you only open your eyes enough to see the way Hendery watches you like you have been personally delivered to him from heaven.

“You wanna come,” it's not a question when Hendery speaks, but a statement that he’s completely confident in. You only have his attention long enough to weakly nod as they continue to move you between them before his eyes are moving to Lucas.

You can feel Lucas nod against your back before one of his hands disappears from your skin, Hendery’s arms flexing as he takes on more of your weight, his hips now moving with you to help keep you up between them.

His hand returns to your skin, once again wrapping around your neck, but this time he wears a thick metal ring on his index finger. The coolness of the material makes you flinch, but you try to ignore it. It gets harder to ignore it, when you notice a sharp chip on it start to bite into the below your jaw.

“Ow,” you let out weakly between gasping moans, the quiet noise of discontent being ignored by both of them as they continue to move inside you while the ring starts to draw blood from the shallow wound it creates.

It’s not until you feel a thick drop of blood hit your collarbone does he let up, his hand letting go and trailing down your side. It disappears once again, only for a second or two before it returns to its original place, the ring now missing from his finger.

You try to ignore the stinging pain on your neck, thinking it was just accident, already so lost in the fogginess of your mind that their heated breaths had created that it isnt hard to ignore, until Hendery speaks again.

“You first,” he nods at Lucas, his hips still moving roughly against you. You try to ignore him again, your fingers winding tighter around his shirt as you feel yourself teetering closer and closer to the edge, until Lucas is nudging your head to the side, “touch yourself for us baby, we wanna see you come.”

You let go of his shirt hesitantly, reaching down between your bodies in search of your neglected clit, when you feel Lucas’ lips latch around the burning wound on your neck. His full lips suck harshly against the skin, pulling your thickened blood into his mouth as your hand jerks in shock. You’re not sure why, but the shock of pain that runs down the side of your neck causes a new wave of arousal over your body, and in your desperation, your fingers move to roll fast circle over your clit.

Lucas pulls away after getting his fill of your sweetened blood, his tongue laving over the wound as the blood continues to spill in a steady stream down your neck.

If you weren’t pushed close enough to your finish from Lucas’ mouth, you get even closer when Hendery leans closer and takes his place. His mouth is even more eager than Lucas’, his more hyper energy showing through his mouth as he sloppily licks at the broken skin.

His mouth follows you as you continue to be roughly bounced between them, their unrelenting pace and their biting mouths combined with your own hand that seems to be possessed by some restless demon as it moves against your clit, finally pushes you over the edge you had been so dangerously dancing on.

You loudly gasp when your orgasm hits. Your legs violently shaking in their holds as you come and clench around them. It’s like a sharp electricity shoots around under your skin and you only hear them groan darkly in response.

You can’t seem to rip your own hand away, forcing you to push yourself through your own orgasm as they continue to fuck you full. You had never imagined you could possibly feel more full than you did until you feel their hands tighten and you hear the animalistic growls they let out while they start to come inside you.

Their come is thick as it fills you, and they continue to fuck you on them, shoving the evidence of their orgasms deep in you. Aftershocks wrack all three of you as it seems there’s a malevolent evil that wraps around you making it impossible to rip yourselves away from each other.

It’s Hendery who loses his footing first, his orgasm weakening his hold on you as he claws at your skin. He hesitates long enough to allow Lucas to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you tight against him as he stays deep inside you, finally allowing Hendery to drop your legs and detach his mouth from your skin as he leans back against the cold building.

Lucas pulls out as Hendery fixes his pants, his hands kneading your tensed muscles as you try to find your strength to stand on your own two feet. You can only imagine how much you three look like newborn deer as you all stumble around the alley, but with Lucas’ remaining strength he helps you stand and begins to adjust your clothing.

Once your top and skirt are in their rightful place, he passes you off to Hendery who holds you tightly against his chest. You both watch with widened eyes as Lucas pushes himself back into the fabric of his pants and you curl against his form, suddenly desperate for the physical reassurance.

There’s another moment of calm where you three look at each other intently. The only true evidence of what conspired amongst you being the stream of their combined come that rolls down the inside of your thighs. You want to cringe at the feeling, but you hatefully admit to yourself that there’s a gross sense of calm the feeling brings to you as you stand there.

“We have to get cleaned up huh?” Lucas is first to break the silence as he moves closer to the two of you. His fingers brush against the skin of your neck as he stares into your eyes, before he’s returning his attention to Hendery, “do y’think scary boss man will let us go back to our room to get back to normal.”

“We’ll have to ask,” he responds looking down at you with caution, “you know how he gets about the first time.”

“Yeah I do, but I like to think our first time is a little bit of a special case,” his eye return to you, an unexpected softness held behind them as he moves his thumb to tap against the tip of your nose, “but after that we have to get you back to your friends. Can’t break more than one rule tonight.”

[peepeepotter]

Chapter 2: You have a very beautiful...wand.

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Draco kinda body shaming George/male body insecurity, and just...so many uncomfortable moments. If you’ve watched the show you’ll probably get over it sooner. Also cursing but y’all might have to get used to that with me, I curse like a sailor.

Word Count: 2.5K

Series Masterlist

A/N: If you would like to be added to the tag list you can message/ask/comment and I’ll add you! If you asked to be added and you weren’t on the tag list, let me know! I forget a lot of things, haha.

“So where are you taking her for dinner?” Draco sat at the island in the kitchen, staring at George as George reached into the fridge to grab a beer.

“Uh. I don’t know. The Three Broomsticks? I don’t really know if you can call it a date.”

“Well, first off. The Three Broomsticks? Our bar? Don’t ruin the bar, dude. Take her literally anywhere else. Second off, why wouldn’t it be a date?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know, she’s the first person I’ve gone out with since Angelina.”

“Woah, big deal alert!” Y/N said as she walked into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. “I wanna be included in these conversations! I’m a girl, I can help.” She smiled.

“Yeah, but you’re Y/N. You’re like...you’re more like a puppy than a human girl.” Draco turned, giving her a disappointed look.

“Whatever, either way. I guess I’m nervous so I asked this girl out because I don’t really care how things end up with her.” George offered as an explanation. Y/N cringed at that. She knew she had to start getting used to how the men in this loft talked about women, but she couldn’t help but think of herself in that same scenario.

“Well, are you going to go hit the gym?” Draco asked. George furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why?”

“To get rid of your belly.”

“What are you talking about?” George asked, looking down at his stomach.

“The little pouch where you keep your extra cookies.” Y/N smiled, pinching her own little “kupa” as she and Ginny called it.

-

George stood in front of his mirror in his bedroom, his shirt lifted just enough to see his lower stomach. His brow was furrowed. He didn’t have that big of a tummy. Sure, he wasn’t carved like Draco, but who the hell had time to work out to be that muscular? It’s not like he had—what did Y/N call the look she liked?—a dad bod. He took his shirt all the way off.

He turned around and started playing music on his record player. Y/N had started showing him more muggle music, which was a bit more his vibe. Reggae started playing when he put the spindle on the vinyl. He turned it up as loud as it could get.

Y/N looked up when she heard the reggae music playing from her bedroom. She smiled, glad that George was enjoying the music she had introduced to him. She looked back down at the paper she was trying to grade, but kept getting distracted by the blaring music. She sighed, and thought for a moment. She didn’t want to ruin his appreciation for muggle music, but she really wanted to have these papers graded by the end of tonight so she could give them back to her students tomorrow. She got up from her bed.

“George!” She shouted over the music as she walked across the hall to his bedroom.

“George!” She called again, now knocking on the door. She supposed he couldn’t hear because of how loud the music was. She sighed, just opening the door as she rolled her eyes.

“Geo—oh my god.” She covered her mouth with her hand, the other hand still on the doorknob as she walked in to see George fully naked.

“Y/N! Get out!” George yelled, grabbing a pillow to cover his manhood. Y/N squealed out a giggle and slammed the door shut, running to her room. She closed the door to her own bedroom, now both hands covering her face. Just when she felt like she had gotten close to one of the guys in the loft, she saw him naked! She felt so embarrassed, and she couldn’t imagine how George felt.

-

“I saw George naked yesterday.” She whispered to the other three men in the loft’s kitchen.

“What?!”

“How?”

“Wait, you’ve seen George naked before I have?” Draco asked.

“Well, he was playing music really loud, and I kept yelling to turn it down. I even knocked on the door and waited, but I figured he couldn’t hear me, so I just walked in.”

“Oh god.” Harry put his head in his hands, leaning onto the kitchen island.

“Poor guy. He must be so embarrassed.” Said Neville.

“Well, not much to be embarrassed about, amiright?” Harry offered, lifting his head up and chuckling.

“Well, that’s true.” Neville laughed. It helped cheer Y/N up, and she laughed, nodding too.

“Wait, so all of you have seen George naked except for me? I haven’t seen one of my best friends—”

“Only friends—” Harry interrupted.

“Naked?!” Draco finished.

“It’s not a big deal. Why are you making this a thing?” Y/N asked, turning to Draco.

“Well, wait, how have you two seen him naked?” Draco asked, ignoring Y/N.

“He’s basically my brother. We grew up together. Shared locker rooms, bathrooms, pools, penis fights.” Harry shrugged.

“We were in the same house at Hogwarts. The guys all shared the bathrooms.” Neville offered.

“Literally what the fuck—” Draco droned on. Y/N heard George’s door open and rushed to the front door, attempting to block it.

“Listen George, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to butt in on you while you were...well while you were doing whatever you were doing but you couldn’t hear me over the music!” George had sunglasses and a hat on, attempting to avoid anyone looking at him at all. When Y/N blocked the door, he walked up to her. Her breathing stopped when he came close to her, not expecting him to get so close. He picked her up from the armpits and moved her to the other side of him, quickly turning around and opening the door to make a quick attempt at leaving.

“That was awful.” Draco said from behind Y/N. “But at least you’ve seen his penis.” He sighed.

“Why do you WANT to see it?” Harry asked, also behind Y/N.

“What if he dies, and aurors need me to identify his body, but the only thing that’s left is his penis. I’ll have to say ‘Sorry officer, I can’t help, because I’ve never seen his penis.’” Draco said dramatically.

“Again, why do you want to see his penis?”

-

Y/N sat at the kitchen island, eating her dinner alone. George stormed into the apartment and into the kitchen, getting a beer out of the fridge.

“I have something for you!” Y/N said, grabbing her purse from the stool next to hers. She took out a stick decorated with phoenix feathers and other various animal feathers. “It’s a feeling wand. When someone has the feeling wand, they have to share their feelings. You see, I am feeling like I want to know what you’re feeling.” She smiled, jutting the wand out towards George. He gave her an empty stare, leaning against the counter, drinking his beer. He rolled his eyes, leaning onto the kitchen island. He grabbed the wand, and held it for a long moment. Then, he broke it in half.

“Believe it or not, this is not the first time someone has broken my feeling wand.” She looked back into her purse, pulling out a nearly identical, although significantly smaller wand. “So I keep a travel-sized one.” George rolled his eyes again. “Come on! Let’s just talk about it!”

“You want to talk about it? You ruined my date!”

-

George’s date, Persephone, welcomed him into her apartment. She grabbed his face, bringing her lips to his nearly immediately. George kissed back out of instinct, but as Persephone tried to take his shirt off, he inched away from her. She pulled away, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Do you want me to go first?” “Wha—”

Before George could even finish his thought, she had her shirt off, and she had not been wearing a bra. He gestured towards her, confused.

“What—look at you!”

“Okay, now it’s your turn!” She smiled. George mimed taking his shirt off and throwing it across the room. Persephone quirked her head to the side out of confusion.

“I don’t understand. Do you want to like...take it slow?”

Which is exactly how George ended up awkwardly cuddling with this girl for two hours before she fell asleep and he left.

-

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Any time I take off my clothes I just hear your weird little laugh! This is very damaging to my ego.” He yelled, walking to his room.

“I’m sorry! It wasn’t funny!” Y/N said, running in front of him and blocking the entrance to his bedroom. “You have a very beautiful...wand.”

“Then why did you laugh?” He crossed his arms.

“It was just an awkward moment and I don’t know how to deal with that!” George once again picked her up, turning around to set her down.

“You need to stop doing this! I’m trying to have a mature conversation!” Y/N yelled while he lifted her into the air, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“A mature conversation? You laughed because you saw my penis, you can’t even say the word penis, and I’m the one stopping you from having this ‘mature’ conversation?” He asked, turning back around to face her.

“I’m sorry.” She sighed.

��I just want to have meaningless sex with beautiful women.” George sighed.

“Maybe you don’t want that! Maybe you’re not ready for that!”

“I have a wand. I want meaningless sex with beautiful women.” He rolled his eyes, turning around and entering his bedroom.

“You know what you have to do now?” Draco suddenly asked behind her, anyone could hear the devilish grin in his voice.

“What?” She asked, hoping he could point her in the right direction of fixing her friendship.

-

Which is how Y/N ended up butt naked wrapped in a towel, in George’s room, waiting for him to get back home. Now she faced his mirror, quickly opening and closing the towel. “I can do this.” She huffed. She turned around towards the door when she heard the front door open and shut, but quickly she heard a female voice moaning at George. “Oh my god.” She whispered, laying down quickly on the ground. She had never wished so much that she owned an invisibility cloak than she did at this very moment.

George and Persephone entered his bedroom, making out. Persephone sat on the bed, asking him to take his clothes off. With renewed confidence, he took his shirt off. Y/N started crawling towards the door, hoping the activities taking place would distract the two from seeing her. However, as George pulled his pants down, he came face to face with Y/N. They both started screaming, and she stood, abandoning the towel, attempting to escape. She couldn’t open the door, it was stuck. She closed her eyes tight, and breathed out.

“Can you open the door?” She asked, turning around. This time, George covered his face with one of his hands, trying not to laugh. Persephone was horrified.

-

While the nudity fiasco was happening, Neville, Harry, and Draco sat on the couch in the living room.

“I still don’t really understand why you want to see it so bad?” Harry asked.

“Look, it’s just weird. For some reason it’s making me feel left out. And you know what? I’ve been having a rough go lately. My students are really struggling to understand this one concept that I don’t know how to reteach to make it easier for them. Plus, the girl I've been in love with for a decade is very likely going to get married here soon.” He huffed.

Neville and Harry glanced at each other when he said this last thing. They had both had a feeling that he had been in love with their mutual friend, but he had never said anything. They both knew their fellow charms teacher and friend was engaged, and she had been one of the first people after the war to forgive and befriend Draco.

“We’ll see what we can do.”

-

George stood, ranting about privacy and personal space while holding the feeling wand. The other four in the apartment sat on the couch, this time Y/N was fully clothed. Harry raised his hand, requesting the feeling wand.

“I feel like Draco has been having a very tough time lately.” George furrowed his eyebrows, confused about what this had to do with anything he just said. Neville took the feeling wand next. “I feel like Draco has been friends with you for a really long time, and has gained your trust enough to see your penis.” Neville said, George covered his face with his hands.

“Oh my god, I need to move out.” George mumbled to himself. Neville handed Draco the feeling wand.

“I feel validated.” Y/N was really struggling to keep in her giggles at this point. She didn’t really understand why Draco cared so much, but found the other boys' support kind of endearing.

“THIS! This is what I mean! I just want to go one day without someone seeing or wanting to see my penis!” George yelled.

“I feel like George is yelling.” Neville said, holding the feeling wand. George snatched the feeling wand out of his hand and stormed off to his room.

-

George heard a knock at his bedroom door. “Come in.” He said. Y/N entered, her eyes covered and started knocking on the wall of his bedroom. “Y/N,” George laughed. “I said come in, you can stop knocking and open your eyes.”

“I’m sorry I ruined your hookup.” Y/N frowned, coming to lay next to George on his bed. “I really just wanted us to get back to normal and Draco said something along the lines of ‘he showed you his now you show him yours’ and for some reason I listened.”

“It’s okay. But it was definitely stupid to listen to Draco’s advice. Next time go to Harry for advice.” George laughed, turning on his side to face the girl next to him. She stared at the ceiling,

“I’ve been working on something.” She grinned, turning on her side to face him.

“Go for it.”

“Penis.” Y/N said calmly, without any hint of a smile or laugh.

“I’m proud of you.” George chuckled, reaching over to pat her shoulder. “I’m sorry I made this such a long thing. I think, by the way, that maybe you’re right. I don’t think I’m ready for meaningless sex with beautiful women.” He scrunched his nose.

“You mean Persephone won’t be coming back.” Y/N held back a smile, avoiding dumb thoughts in her head.

“She definitely won’t be coming back.” George laughed, remembering the fiasco. Y/N sat up, ready to leave. She paused when she got to the end of the bed, looking back at him.

“Did you...did you see like...everything?” Y/N’s cheeks shone red under George’s dim lighting in his room. He giggled.

“Yes.”

“Like—”

“Everything.” He confirmed. She blushed, standing up and walking to the door.

“Goodnight, George.” She turned around to smile at him.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He smiled in return.

Tag list: @yllwtaxi @ememseay @droppingthegloves @wassup-peoples @dejayoon @astoriaplease @postsbyjenipeo @edmunds-torch @ummmlana @kennreid @charming-fan-girl @expelliarmusmyass

[miraculousluvbug]

WINGLESS | Ch. 7

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: After Chat learns Ladybug told Rena her identity, Plagg's solution is simple: tell someone he's Chat Noir so they're even! Duh.

Unbeknownst to the three wicked stooges, Paris’s favorite cat boy sat perched upon a rooftop adjacent to the mansion, ogling the interaction between his father, his trusted assistant, and his absolute least favorite person in the entire world.

Next to Hawk Moth, of course.

As they tittered and conspired in the darkness, Chat Noir narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t help but find the whole thing . . .

Shady.

“Claws in.”

Plagg whizzed out of the ring and looked up at his holder with sad kitten eyes. Adrien avoided making eye contact, practically drilling a hole into the ground with the intensity of his glare. He hugged his knees to his chest and picked at his shoelaces.

“That was pretty rough, kid.”

Adrien sniffled and roughly smeared away his tears with the back of his hand.

“I was hoping her explanation would make me feel better, Plagg.”

Adrien hugged his knees tighter.

“But it made me feel so much worse.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Plagg crooned, shoulders drooping. He hesitated for only a second before flying to Adrien’s shoulder and nuzzling his holder’s neck.

“She doesn’t want to know me, Plagg. Am I really that bad?”

“Not at all. I already told you that no other Chat Noir could be you. I meant it. You’re the best Chat Noir I’ve ever had.”

Adrien’s sniffles quieted, but the tears persisted. He had no idea how to stop them now that they had started. With gut-wrenching envy, Adrien watched the person he hated most engage in chit-chat with his father as if it was the most casual occurrence. The man even went as far as sharing whatever was on his tablet, a feat Adrien had been trying to accomplish since before he could remember. His father always claimed to be private, unwilling to share any kind of imperfect designs with his own son.

But there Lila was. Conversing with his father more than he himself had in the past week.

And Ladybug had given her most sacred secret to Rena Rouge.

Was he invisible?

He felt so small.

Lost at sea.

A blip in the turbulent waters that no one knew was missing.

He was a boy overboard with no life raft. And no one knew to look for him.

His soul was cold and his heart felt numb.

“You know what?” chirped Plagg suddenly, snapping Adrien out of his spiral. “Ladybug is the new Guardian, right?”

Adrien nodded hesitantly. Where was he going with this?

“What’s her only rule?”

“We can’t know each other’s identities.”

Plagg hovered in front of Adrien’s eyes and flipped onto his back, making a show of nonchalance. If this was gonna work, Plagg had to make the kid think it was kind of his own idea. “Who can’t know each other’s identities?”

Adrien was unamused. To him, Plagg was beating a dead horse.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Plagg popped open one eye. He didn’t need to open both for Adrien to see the blatant impishness in them.

“So Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t know each other’s identities. What about . . . other people?”

The blonde ball of despair perked up, hair bouncing into his eyes, though they immediately narrowed at his Kwami’s scheming.

“But Master Fu--”

Plagg interjected, “--who isn’t the guardian anymore.”

Adrien blinked.

Kwamis, Plagg was so close to convincing his kid to be selfish for once. He just needed a push! A hefty, premeditated shove off the Fu-forsaken cliff!

“It’s like I’ve always said. Beg for forgiveness, not for permission.” Plagg folded his little paws across his chest, floating right up to Adrien’s nose. Adrien went cross-eyed trying to maintain eye contact. “Ladybug told Rena. So the question is: who’s Chat Noir going to tell?”

“It’s--” Adrien spluttered. “It’s risky, Plagg!”

“And so is being depressed,” Plagg snarled back, surprising Adrien. “Any other person gets minorly inconvenienced and akumatized, who saves them? You--” the Kwami jabbed a paw into Adrien’s nose “--and the bug. But you or Ladybug get akumatized, who saves you?”

Plagg saw the cogs turning in Adrien’s head. He briefly speculated who his kid might choose. Nino would be the obvious choice. He wasn’t as close to Kagami any more, but telling her the secret that had broken them apart would certainly be one hell of an apology. It could even, say, potentially repair what the secret had fractured.

There was also the off chance Adrien might choose Pigtails, who coincidentally doubled as Ladybug. Plagg would have to raid the Agreste kitchen for popcorn if that happened.

“If . . .” Adrien began.

Yes? Plagg internally coaxed.

“If I were to choose someone . . .”

Come on, Adrien.

“I think it would be . . . Nino.”

Yahtzee.

Plagg clapped his paws together over and over, rousing Adrien from his feet like a drill sergeant. “All right, then! Let’s go, let’s go! Hustle, bell boy. We’ve got places to be!”

Adrien reached into his pocket and pulled out a squishy triangle, letting loose the most intoxicating aroma Plagg ever did smell. It circled the pair and made Plagg salivate. “Don’t you want this first?”

Did I really forget about camembert? Plagg wondered incredulously.

“I--” Plagg scrambled for an excuse to atone for the touchy-feelies interfering with his one true love, but he came up short. “Of course I want that!”

Adrien smiled fondly at his Kwami and threw the camembert into the air. Not one to miss a beat, Plagg zipped and caught the cheese in his mouth, devouring the thing in one fell swoop.

“Now we can go!” said Plagg, belching remorselessly. Naturally.

Adrien chuckled. When he opened his mouth to say the transformation phrase, however, he faltered. Was he really going to do this? It . . . It felt disobedient, like he was betraying Ladybug. But could she really hold it against him, if she had needed to do the same?

Would his partner reveal herself to be a hypocrite?

The budding consequences of revealing himself to Nino weighed so heavily on his shoulders that he wasn’t sure how he would manage batoning into the air once transformed. The aptitude for disappointment just felt so tangible to him, as if it were physically chaining him to the rooftop, a meaty claw so solidly wound ’round his ankles it threatened to pierce his skin.

The thought that Nino might hate him for keeping the secret in the first place made home in Adrien’s cerebral cortex, further immobilizing him. It pulled up a chair and opened the morning newspaper like it was meant to be there, meant to remind him that not everything was just simple. Straightforward. Without fallout.

A tender paw touched his cheek, wiping away a runaway tear.

“Kid,” whispered Plagg. His eyes were misty.

Is that . . . because of me? Because he cares about me?

Holding his gaze a moment longer, Adrien uttered the words that once changed his life forever and seemed to be forever following him with new and improved ways to spice up his routine.

“Claws out.”

The energy washed over him like a cold shower, springing him into action. The need to move, to run, to fly nipped at his heels and before he knew it, he was vaulting to his best buddy’s.

If Adrien was honest, telling Marinette, his dearest friend, was his first instinct. He gripped that realization like it would fly away at a moment’s notice, at the slightest spook (he was on the precipice of truly understanding what his good friend Marinette really meant to him). But he had heard from Nino that Alya and Marinette were holed in for a “girls’ night,” so . . . Nino was the next best thing.

Nino was far from second place, however. Sharing the burden of his greatest secret with the guy who got mad at Gabriel Agreste on Adrien’s behalf was like a breath of fresh air. More than that, it was like Adrien would finally be able to steady his head above the tide.

(Telling Marinette would have been like sprouting gills and uncovering the mystery of the sea up close and personal, but Adrien didn’t want to unpack that particular conclusion yet.)

Wasting no time, Chat Noir landed nimbly on Nino’s apartment balcony and tucked his baton back into place. Giving himself just one more moment before life as he knew it was spun upside down--for better or for worse was yet to be determined--he raised a gloved claw to the sliding glass door and timidly knocked.

Nino’s balcony wasn’t decorated like Marinette’s. A few bikes of various sizes loitered against the railing, collecting dust. A few helmets hung limply from their handlebars, occasionally shifting to and fro in the passive wind. Chat could discern by the light-up training wheels which bike belonged to Nino’s little brother, Chris. The bike--which Chat realized must be new since his last visit--sported black spots against its red frame.

Chat shook his head fondly.

Someone obviously developed an appreciation for the bug after their last akumatization. But as the evening breeze softly twisted the helmet, the vision before him melted him into a puddle of endearment. Nino’s kid brother apparently also had a thing for Chat Noir.

The evidence?

A black helmet topped with an acid green paw print and two plastic cat ears to boot.

Un-fur-tunately, as much as the sight was incredibly thera-paw-tic, it also made his heart throb. His body ached for a larger family, from head to toe and down to his bones.

Adrien didn’t dream often in his sleep, but when he did . . . Oh, when he did, he was blessed with visions of him entering a cozy one-story home (his) and immediately being greeted by giggling and the blinding smiles of three faceless children (also his).

While his hopelessly romantic heart yearned for Ladybug to be his other half in that tender fantasy, lately his subconscious had a habit of inserting a particular blue-haired classmate. It baffled him at first, but he figured seeing her family photo that one time during Animan in addition to experiencing the Dupain-Chengs’ bolstering hospitality personally as both Adrien and Chat Noir made Marinette a safe space for his lonely imagination.

Whoever she married would be one lucky bastard, that was for sure.

The curtains behind the glass door swept dramatically to the side, revealing a bewildered Nino in Rena Rouge-themed pajamas.

“Chat Noir?!” he exclaimed. The glass between them muffled his voice.

A quick scan beyond Nino told Chat that his friend was home alone, but he knew he needed to be certain. “Are you home alone?”

Nino paled before realizing that a superhero asking that question wasn’t as bad as some random adult looking for an easy target. He exhaled, chuckling nervously. “My family went to the ice rink, but skating’s so not my jam.”

So he stayed behind. Good. This was gonna be a piece of cake! Adrien pointed at the door handle and raised his eyebrows in question.

“Oh, right. Sorry, dude!”

Nino clambered to unlock the door and wrenched it open. The smell of broth and herbs hit Adrien square in the nose. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since lunch. “What brings you here? An akuma?”

Stepping over the threshold, Chat tried to make sense of Nino’s question. Why would he come to a civilian if there was an akuma? “No, no akuma, Nino.”

“Oh, good, ’cause I-- Dude, how did you know where my room is?”

If Chat weren’t there to reveal his identity, he might have had a heart attack over accidentally bee-lining to Nino’s room like he’d been there before. He probably would have said something fishy like “In a house like this, it’s a given!” But he didn’t have to make up some ridiculous excuse. He wouldn’t ever have to lie to his best friend.

Never again.

“Because . . .”

Nino eyed Chat expectantly. His room was a mess. He really wasn’t expecting any visitors and his laptop was still open, his music and film ideas scrawled onto random pieces of notebook paper and scattered across his desk like a madman. Or an artist. Was there really a difference?

“Because . . .” Chat began once more.

Oh, gosh. This was it. He was going to do it. He was going to do the thing! He was alone at sea and no one from the boat had noticed him falling overboard. But maybe, just maybe Nino was the Coast Guard. Maybe Nino would throw him a buoy.

“Because claws in.”

Nino’s entire body went rigid. Crap, crap, crap!

“No, wait--!” Nino shouted, closing his eyes instinctually and reaching for Chat Noir. He had to pull him away from his laptop’s camera field! Had to get him out of sight! Why did he choose now to share Paris’s most coveted secret?!

But . . . he was too late.

The light had already dimmed behind his eyelids by the time his hands were closed around--

“Adrien?” Nino whispered, peering up at his best friend. The duckling he had sworn to protect and teach the ways of life was standing where Chat Noir should be.

Adrien smiled and opened his mouth to respond, but a high-pitched laughter rang out and the joy he felt was quickly replaced with sheer terror.

Nino grinned sheepishly.

“Uh haha, you remember my girlfriend Alya who I sometimes Skype with while working on scripts?” Clumsily, Nino rubbed comforting circles into Adrien’s arms as if he could rub away the embarrassment.

“You said you were home alone.”

“Actually, I said my family went to the ice rink.”

Adrien’s eye twitched.

Plagg, who couldn’t have foreseen this turn of events, hovered off to the side and figured if he didn’t move, he could pretend he was invisible.

Sure enough, Adrien craned his head to find an unhinged Alya screeching like a fox (he had seen a video of them laughing once on YouTube; they were so adorable!) from Nino’s computer screen. Behind Alya was a familiar cork board of friends and, well, lots of himself. The walls were pink. She was at Marinette’s like Nino said she would be.

Adrien had expected gasps. Finger pointing. A million questions. What he hadn’t expected was Alya laughing like he was the butt of a joke.

After a good minute of cackling and awkward waiting from the boys, Alya sighed and wiped a tear from her eye. Then she spoke, a dazed smile on her lips.

“I cannot wait to strangle that Hawaiian-shirt-loving Master of Unnecessary Manipulation.” Her words were completely contrasted by the amusement in her voice.

Adrien tried not to faint.

-----

We're now caught up with AO3 here on Tumblr (AO3 is where I first started posting this). Yay! :D Also, was anyone expecting Rena to be there? 😌I wasn't. 😳 Follow me for updates and check out my Instagram where I post art!

(7/?) Previous | Next

[rymndsmth]

querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy! 

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling. 

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive. 

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend. 

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about. 

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed. 

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung  and his girlfriend). 

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller. 

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores. 

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place. 

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion. 

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned. 

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea. 

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would’ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot. 

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing. 

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition. 

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.  

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.  

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later. 

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood. 

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived. 

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history. 

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide. 

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen. 

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter. 

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons. 

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag. 

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush. 

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it. 

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest. 

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all. 

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued. 

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though. 

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips. 

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush. 

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her? 

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him. 

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors. 

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table. 

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you. 

Oh…She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down. 

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished. 

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his. 

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow. 

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did. 

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin. 

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers. 

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes. 

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.  

[badb1tchbokuto]

Alone, Together

Miya Atsumu x F! Reader

“Lame.” Typical.

“Self-righteous prick,” Okay that one hurt a little, but fine.

“Your game is weak.” Atsumu would like to think it wasn’t. It was just that he’d never really had to try. Whereas he focused all his efforts and love on the game of volleyball, he never really put in much effort on the dating game. Casual flings, short term relationships, one night stands - he was no stranger to all of this. He was attractive, successful, and had a steady career that allowed him to afford VIP tables in pretentious places like this. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be into that?

You apparently.

...In which Atsumu experiences his first existential crisis after you reject him at a club.

wc: 6k

tw: alcohol consumption, swearing, mild smut, slight angst, lots of fluff

(crossposted on Ao3)

Thursday, 10:00pm JST

Tokyo is alight and alive. The autumn sun is steadily dimming against a sea of ultramodern buildings and bright billboards that are beginning to light the city in incandescent neons. Crowds are meandering through the busy capital, with tourists slowly walking and stopping at every turn to take photos and gaze at their seemingly surreal surroundings, friends chatting vividly as they make their way to dinner, and employees ambling towards the crowded subway stations to line up and finally make their way home or just find some respite.

You, somehow, are a combination of all three.

Twenty four hours ago, you landed in Haneda from Charles de Gaulle. Jet lagged and bleary eyed, you stuttered your way through customs in your broken but passable Japanese, lost a suitcase that had most of your professional attire needed for the next day’s back to back meetings with investors, then had to be comforted by your driver as you explained the situation in distress all the way to your hotel in the business district of Minato.

You couldn’t help but feel unsettled and overwhelmed as it was after all, your first trip to Japan for professional matters. All your other times in the country had been spent with family, past lovers or on study abroad trips with best friends, but this time it was just you.

Adult you, in your first big girl work trip, in your dream field of fashion, in your dream city of Tokyo.

-

It has almost been twenty fours since you landed in the capital, and you’ve miraculously survived your first day. Barely. Admittedly you slept in a little too late after downing the entire complimentary bottle of Daiginjo from the hotel by yourself the night before, and this morning you spent over thirty minutes trying to transform your jet lagged mug with a “no make up make up” look only to end up still being asked by the sweet door people if you were heading to a special party. The upside is that the sake made you sleep like a baby, and smartly you paired your unexpectedly dramatic make-up with a killer outfit, resulting in you being recharged and sharp throughout the day, impressing your boss and potential investors alike.

Friday, 8:30pm JST

You had just emerged from your hotel to freshen up after a long day of work, now heading to dinner in Shibuya to meet with friends you’ve studied abroad with who were now living in Tokyo. Clad in a slinky Jacquemus silk dress and your favorite stilettos, you stand outside the grand entrance of the Tokyu Plaza, sending your girls a quick text to note that you got there a little earlier than expected, informing them that you’d be waiting at the restaurant’s rooftop bar instead.

The restaurant your friends chose was on the 17th floor of the building, a French fusion restaurant that turns into a nightclub after midnight and promises to have the best rooftop views of the Tokyo skyline. It seemed especially busy tonight, as there was already a line of young men and women eager to wait just to get into the club despite the area not opening hours from now.

Overhearing hushed snippets of conversations around you, it sounded like some celebrities were going to be there tonight. You brush it off, looking forward to having a moment to yourself to sip on an espresso martini, maybe even a few truffle sliders while waiting on your friends to arrive.

Busy thinking about whether you have time to eat one or three of the sliders before dinner, you absentmindedly made your way to the host at the front of the already buzzing line.

Halfway there, you feel a gentle but firm tap on your shoulder.

You turn, only to face a very toned and very broad chest dripping in two thin yellow gold snake chains layered over a printed silk button down, a piece from Gucci’s latest season. “Impressive.. ” you think to yourself as you lift your gaze as slowly and as nonchalantly as you can to see the man’s face, even though your eyes are probably already dilating in anticipation, because if the chest was already impressive and you were already having sinful thoughts about dragging your tongue on his chiseled pecs then moving down, well then...

“Yes?” You reply softly as your eyes roam upwards, starting with his strong jawline, to his warm, sugary brown gaze, up to his soft tousled blonde hair, and back down to his full lips, his canines and pink tongue slightly peeking out, adorned in a confident smirk that both turned you on and pissed you off.

“Fuck. I’d definitely let you ruin my life..or my pussy.” You couldn’t help but immediately think to yourself.

Without introducing himself, he slowly licks his lips, then cooly offers. “You headin’ up to Ce La Vi? My friends and I have a VIP table up there so you won’t have to wait until midnight to be let in. You can skip the line with me.”

“No thanks.” You curtly decline, irritated and offended that he assumed you needed his help to skip the line, let alone afford to enter the establishment for dinner.

You swerve past him, thinking that he’s another sleazy club promoter. Very attractive yes, but you’d like to think you were past making those types of mistakes at this age. Sexy guy leveraging his social status so that he can two pump chump you then ghost you until he needs pretty girls to fill up his club table? Hard pass.

Atsumu on the other hand, is confused.

That simple line never fails; it’s not aggressive but is still quite direct, and it wasn’t creepy. At least he didn’t think so. If anything, he thought he sounded nonchalant and cool.. Almost like Suna...right? Although he’d never let Suna know that he tries to emulate him when trying to pick up girls. Or that he thinks Suna is “nonchalant and cool.” God forbid he gets roasted on the group chat for yet another reason. Also, isn’t it always a great opportunity to skip the line at some overhyped dining club and get wined and dined by a handsome athlete like him? He’s never really had a problem using that line before, in fact his body count was proof of its success rate, so why did it not work on you?

You definitely seemed like you would be impressed by status and flash, considering you literally made his head turn because of your confident strides, wafting a luxuriously sexy scent. A melange of rose, vanilla, maybe the homemade marshmallows Samu makes in the winter... And definitely a tinge of the special perfume he was gifted by the Tom Ford team that he only reserves for special occasions. Something with tobacco and oud. Plus, he also definitely remembers shelling out 300,000¥ to buy the same Dior purse you had on for his ex-girlfriend last Christmas.

You saunter ahead of him, completely ignoring the screams and flash that followed. “Ah..So the celebrity has arrived.” You think to yourself. “They’ll probably be escorted to some special entrance anyway.”  

The doorman checks your name on the tablet and leads you to wait in front of an elevator. As you scroll through your phone, waiting for the elevators to take you up to the restaurant, you see him awkwardly standing behind you, rapidly typing away on his phone, very obviously trying to avoid your gaze.

Unlucky for both of you, you two were the only ones cleared by the front desk to go on the elevator.

The ride up to the 17th floor felt like an eternity, a palpable awkward silence marred by elevator music eerily like the Wii theme song dragged the seconds on.

Atsumu couldn’t wait to get out of the cramped space. He wanted so desperately to rush out and find Bokuto, Hinata, or honestly, he’d even practice his abysmal English with Adriah at this point just to get the hell away from you.

It wasn’t that Atsumu found you repulsive, quite the contrary actually. He found you so goddamned sexy, poised with a distinct self-assured stance that he only knew his former high school volleyball captain to have. You were magnetic, like an invisible force just happened to transfix Atsumu’s attention to you when he saw you standing at the plaza, leading him to follow you to the restaurant, thanking his lucky stars that he was also heading the same way since he most definitely kind of looked creepy staring at a lone woman in the middle of the street like that. 

The fact that you were immediately repelled by his kind suggestion to skip the line with him boggled him. Feeling claustrophobic in a roomy elevator decorated in mirrors that showed your reflection from all angles, he tries even more desperately to avoid looking at you, so he resorts to giving a play by play to his brother over text, only to get obliterated by Osamu.

“Lame.” Typical.

“Self-righteous prick,” Okay that one hurt a little, but fine.

“Your game is weak.” He’d like to think it wasn’t. It was just that he’d never really had to try. Whereas Atsumu focused all his efforts and love on the game of volleyball, he never really put in much effort on the dating game. Casual flings, short term relationships, one night stands - he was no stranger to all of this. He was attractive, successful, and had a steady career that allowed him to afford VIP tables in pretentious places like this. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be into that?

You apparently.

“Oh well, your loss.” He tries to reason with himself.

As soon as the doors open, Atsumu lets you pass like the gentleman he was raised to be. Okay, maybe he checks you out one last time, because damn that ass... and maybe he also tries to catch a whiff of your intoxicating perfume…  but no one had to know that.

He walks away to find his teammates inside the VIP dining area, wanting to just forget about you and move on with his night. You on the other hand, leisurely make your way to the open rooftop bar.

Shortly after, your friends Yuki and Kaori arrive, apologizing for their tardiness and promising a good time as they insist on going out clubbing with some of their friends from high school.

You hadn’t seen the sexy arrogant promoter or his “VIP” group throughout dinner. You forget about him or at least try to, happy to finally munch away on the anticipated dinner, reminisce about your wild college days and catch up with old friends.

Friday, 11:30pm JST

A couple of hours later, inhibitions loose from the free flow of alcohol offered at the restaurant mixed in with a bottle of champagne to celebrate your reunion, the three of you egg each other on to take shots at the bar before checking out the now bustling dance floor, surrounded by the VIP booths inside. Not a minute more after walking indoors do you hear a loud energetic voice holler, “YUKIPPE?!”

“Bokuto-san!!!” Yuki excitedly calls out, dragging you and Kaori over to greet a boisterous, incredibly buff man with two toned spiky hair. Behind him sitting on the plush rounded couches is a small group of young men who are all just as attractive and well-dressed, with an orange haired male capturing most of their attention, spinning an animated tale that had the table howling in raucous laughter.

The only one whose attention was away from the tanned male you heard is called Hinata is the promoter from downstairs, looking directly at you in shock.

“Oh fuck.”

Three buttons on his shirt were now unbuttoned, giving you a more intimate view of his chest. The same, broad, muscled chest you fantasized over earlier. His gaze is unrelenting, and you realize you had also been staring back at him when Kaori waves her hands in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Giiiiiirl? Hello?”

You revert your attention back to your group, acting as if you definitely weren’t just thinking about jumping on the blonde’s lap then and there, pulling him into a kiss, grinding on him as you unbutton his shirt and pants in a desperate, heated haze and then...

Kaori interrupts your thoughts with, “This is our friend from high school, Bokuto-san! His boyfriend Akaashi-kun will be joining us later.” Bokuto is beaming down at you with a megawatt smile and pulls you in a bear hug as you move to shake his hand.

Yuki introduces you as their friend from university that just moved to help launch a Japanese edition of a niche French fashion magazine. She adds, “Bokuto is the star ace of his volleyball team, and these are some of his teammates from the MSBY Black Jackals.”

At this, Bokuto bellows a “ HEY HEY HEY!” that garners the attention of his teammates and onlookers alike.

His teammates warmly welcome you and the girls to their table, as if you’re all old friends simply catching up. Comfortable, you engage Hinata and Meian in a lively conversation about your common experiences while traveling in Brazil. From your shared love of pao de queijo, debating where the best feijoada can be found in Rio, all the way to sharing the wild scenes you’ve all seen in Ipanema's legendary posto 8, banter flowing easily.

You were having a great time, happy to make new friends.

Atsumu had been stealthily watching you throughout the introductions. You acted as if it was the first time you’ve met him, then gracefully jumped into a discussion with his captain and newest teammate as if you were all best friends, when in fact for the last two weeks since Shoyo had joined the team, he’d nervously run to the bathroom every time Meian tried to talk to him for longer than five minutes. Now here he is, laughing with you and the captain about your shared culture shock in realizing how comfortable Brazilians were with skinship.

Atsumu met you less than three hours ago, but every little detail he picks up about you fascinates him more and more. There wasn’t a single thing about you that he didn’t like so far, leaving him intrigued, pining to get to know more. Except for one little big thing.. you flat out rejected him, so now he’s actively avoiding you out of respect for the boundaries you set initially.

Still, he was riveted. He wanted to get to know you one way or another, even if it was trying to casually listen in on your conversations with his teammates.

“What a creep.” Sakusa interrupts his thoughts, rolling his eyes at Atsumu.

Bokuto leans in and attempts to whisper in a hushed tone, in an octave that was definitely too loud to be a whisper, “She’s super cute Tsumtsum! Go for it!”

“Just talk to her, you’ve been staring at her the entire time. It’s starting to get weird.” Sakusa adds.

For arguably the first time in his adult life, Atsumu is insecure.

How does he approach you for the second time? He doesn’t even know what to talk to you about. Here you were, casually conversing about your world travels when he’d never even left Japan except for international matches. You, decked out in designer items he’d gifted different ex-girlfriends as apologies or appeasements for every time he prioritized volleyball over them. You, who were already chummy with his teammates even though it took him months to warm up to them. For fuck’s sake, sometimes his jokes still fall flat, but here you are cracking jokes and making even Omi chuckle. Who the hell are you? And how can Atsumu get to know you? Does he want to be like you or be inside you? How does he even get your attention without seeming like a desperate jerk? Why the fuck does he care what some random girl thinks of him?

He never really cared about what others thought of him outside of volleyball, but when he can’t rely on his one true love to speak for him, who is he and what does he have to offer?

Having an existential crisis at an ostentatious club at midnight was definitely not something Atsumu wanted to do. Yet here he is, feeling as dejected as the day he wore the Jackasuke costume and slipped in public for the whole world to see.

Swirling the melting ball of ice on his crystal glass filled with Yamazaki 18, he didn't notice that you had moved closer to him.

“They say whiskey is a depressant. Is that why you look so sad?” You joke, then gesture to his drink with a small smile.

Atsumu lifts his head to look at you, then freezes upon realizing your close proximity. He counters, “Really? What should I have for a good time then?”

“Me.” You cheekily reply and wink at him.

He grins at you, confidence steadily regaining at realizing that he might have a chance with you after all.

Saturday, 12:00am JST

Pouring a newly opened bottle of Ace of Spades on two champagne flutes laid out on the table, you make amends.

“Sorry for being so rude earlier. I get really defensive when I’m randomly approached by men, especially because I thought you were a promoter looking to get girls to join your table… I didn’t know I had mutual friends with some hotshot athlete.” You smile awkwardly.

He laughs and jokes back, but there is definitely some weight to his sentiment.

“Ah, but since Imma hotshot athlete, s’all good now right?”

You replace the whiskey glass in his hands with a champagne flute and shoot back. “Nah, I really thought you were trying to pimp me out to your flashy friends who bought tables from you, or worse, that you were just trying to get a quick fuck.”

Atsumu chokes on his own spit at your frank reply, and you giggle before lowering your voice so only he could hear.

You counter, “For the record, I would have been down for the latter, except you didn’t even introduce yourself. You should also know that I don’t ever need your help to get places.”

You smile innocently at him as if you didn’t just confirm that you were down to fuck if only he had played his cards right. His mind fogs, instantly imagining dragging you to the nearest bathroom to fuck you silly. He thinks about what it would feel like to sloppily kiss your full lips, moving his hands from your hair down to your neck and shoulders, feeling the curves of your body graciously skimming the silk fabric of your dress, only to unwrap you like a prized gift and worship you with his tongue.

You clear your throat, well aware that Atsumu’s most likely imagining fucking you given his glazed over eyes and parted lips.

With a blush, he tries to cover his reddening cheeks and neck by downing his drink. He bounces back with a, “Well then. The name’s Atsumu, 23 years old, professional volleyball player - the best damned setter the MSBY Black Jackals and the Japanese National Team has ever seen.”

Atsumu realizes then that he never really had to introduce himself. Not seriously anyway. Most people around him already knew who he was; his teammates, coaches, players within the league, aspiring volleyball players, fans of the game, fans of his.. even people around him who didn’t have interest in volleyball just generally knew of his reputation as one of Japan’s most talented athletes and eligible bachelors.

How does he tell you about himself without pulling out his phone to show you his current stats or videos of his top sets as proof that he really is as good as he says? Without looking like an ass? Even worse, what does he tell you about himself without volleyball being the main subject?

You smile, intrigued at how he suddenly seemed so sure of himself while talking about volleyball, emitting pride and passion as he describes his profession.

So you continue to ask him about the sport. Atsumu visibly relaxes, his love for the game evident as he discusses their most recent friendly match, the reason why their Osaka based team is in the capital just before some of them start training for the Olympics. The other boys jump in and out of the conversation, with Yuki and Kaori clarifying certain terms to you when they see you furrow your brows in confusion.

As the alcohol keeps flowing and the conversation moves to the upcoming Olympics, you and Atsumu have veered off the multiple group conversations and are transfixed on each other.

He asks you what you’re doing in Tokyo and how you ended up there, so you tell him you graduated from university recently, originally intending to become a Doctor but decided to pause and move to Paris upon graduation, wherein between random side hustles you somehow landed a job in editorial fashion. Thus landing you in Tokyo on an extended work trip.

Atsumu is bewildered at how you could switch careers so easily and still succeed, that you have multiple passions and follow them according to your whims.

He couldn’t imagine living a life like yours, volleyball being the only thing he’s actively pursued since realizing he had to make a living somehow. He wonders whether he chose volleyball as a career because it was the only thing he was good at and the only thing he could think of when his high school teacher asked him about his options for the future.

Deep down he knows that he loves the sport more than anything else, the driving force and principle behind his very essence. Still he can’t help but wonder, what if he chose do something else? What if he found a different passion to pursue? Would he have made a good doctor? Lawyer? Entrepreneur and chef like Samu? He shudders, lost for answers. He settles his raging thoughts by simply asking, “How could you switch careers so easily?”

You pause to think for a while, then casually respond.

“People are multi-faceted. I think there’s different versions to us as we navigate life. We fall in and out of love with different people, hobbies, places, food, aesthetics... There are just so many variables, so many moving parts as we get older.. Who’s to decide that we have to be tied to the same job or pursue the same passion for the rest of our lives?”

This confuses him even more, and he decides that despite you having the same self-assured aura that Kita-san has, you’re the complete opposite of him, different from everyone around him actually. Him, his brother, his friends, his exes, all of whom either have a clear direction or some semblance of goals and dreams for the future.

You on the other hand, are all risk. You boldly trek into the unknown, unafraid and ready to face the variables and twist them so that they fall to your favor. Atsumu supposes that in this way, he relates to you.

He replies, “Huh. Weird but I guess I kinda get it. It’s like when I’m on court observing opponents. I have to sniff out and adapt to whatever bullshit they’re on, tweak our plays and my settin’ style to make sure we crush them. Sorta like a gamble.”

“Exactly.” You confirm.

“Eh..but nothing feels better than winnin’. How do you even know if you’re winning when you don’t have set objectives?” Atsumu counters.

You playfully roll your eyes at him.

“I do! My objectives are just adjusted to my current surroundings. I’d say pondering over the inherent philosophical value of career choices in a rooftop bar in Tokyo with a sexy volleyball setter is winning.”

“Touché.”

He grins, aiming to pour more champagne to your flutes before realizing that you two polished off the bottle of Ace on the table and that your friends were all in various states of inebriation.

Yuki dancing with her boyfriend, Kaori grinding on Adriah, Bokuto and Hinata on the dance floor twerking on the older MSBY members to Reggaeton, Sakusa and Akaashi watching all of this in amused horror.

“Wanna dance?” Atsumu asks.

After topping your glasses with overpriced bottle service liquor, you move towards the dance floor at the center of the club, joining your friends.

You’re shocked at how well Atsumu can dance, easily gripping your hips and moving with you as you gyrate against him to 90s hip hop jams. Hinata finds you both and proceeds to dance on you, laughing as you twirl him and sandwich him between you and Atsumu.

After a couple more songs, you, Bokuto, and the girls end up dancing on top of a random table screaming the lyrics to the newest Megan Thee Stallion song.

Yuki somehow proceeds to wrangle you all back to your table to take shot after shot, fueling the night to go on.

Saturday, 3:00am JST

Your group stumbles out of the rooftop bar, with the married MSBY members calling it a night. Bokuto on the other hand, is already ordering an Uber Lux to take you all from Shibuya to an even more upscale club in Minato, on the other end of Tokyo for a good nightcap.

Atsumu holds your hand as you enter the club, the most he’s gotten to touch you since dancing with you earlier.

Your group downs more bottles of champagne and vodka, all dancing on each other at your table.

Emboldened by the alcohol in your system, you pop your ass a little more against Atsumu’s crotch, swaying more seductively to a random top forty hit. Feeling him hardening against his fitted trousers, you turn to face him, skimming your fingers on his chains and chest as you continue to dance. In turn he runs his hands up and down your sides, moving more liberally to each drop of the beat, grazing up the underside of your breasts and back down to cup the curve of your ass. His hands feel warm on your body, steadily stoking a growing fire in you.

You gaze up at Atsumu, tilting your head to lightly graze your lips against his neck, trailing upwards towards his ear, effectively sending shivers down his spine. You whisper, “Would you consider this winning, hotshot?” licking the shell of his ear, resulting in Atsumu groaning lowly as you move your head to look back at him.

With hazy eyes, Atsumu looks at you, then whispers, “Winning would be when I’ve made you come with my mouth so many times you’re beggin’ me to fuck you.. but until then pretty girl, this is pretty close.”

You pussy throbs as his lips brush against your skin with every whisper, but before you can even respond, Atsumu kisses you.

His soft lips press on yours, capturing your lower lip in a soft bite that elicits pleasure that starts in your belly then moves down south. His hands continue to move up and down your sides, now more possessive in grabbing your ass to bring you closer to him.

You teasingly lick his parted lips, prompting Atsumu to dance his tongue against yours.

Lost in open mouthed kisses that have you both desperately groping each other’s clothed bodies on the dance floor, you feel Atsumu brush his knuckle over your breasts, motions languid and repeating as your nipples arouse and become visible through your silk dress.

Your entire body is overheating. You moan against his mouth.

He whispers, “Wanna take this somewhere more private?” You nod immediately, then rush to tell your friends you’d catch up with them over brunch tomorrow.

Atsumu is waiting by the exit, but as soon as he sees you, he is so turned on he can’t help but sear you into another heated kiss, leaving you both weak and wanting.

Saturday, 4:30am JST

Miraculously, the nearest Uber is 25 minutes away and the cabs are far and few. Atsumu starts to dial a private car service, but then notices you wandering down the street.

“Oi!! Where you goin’?” He calls out.

You pout. “I’m hungry.”

Atsumu offers to order you room service at his hotel but you decline, taking his calloused but surprisingly moisturized hand as you skip down a tiny alley way towards a conbini.

Inside, you fill your basket to the brim with an assortment of junk food. Chips, instant ramen, sandwiches, daifuku mochi, fried chicken poppers, and every other snack you find with cute packaging before finally leading you to the end of an aisle, choosing between which types of onigiri to purchase.

Atsumu goes along with you, advising you which brands to get, which to avoid, even putting his favorites in the basket. Although he knows his trainer will punish him with brutal training sessions if he sees the shit he’s about to put on his body, he thinks it’s all worth it. He knows he’ll feel guilty come morning, spending hours at the gym to burn it all off, but right now he couldn’t care less. Not after seeing you starry eyed at how many options of onigiri there are, and how absolutely adorable you look when asking him about which snacks he thinks could fit in your purse to save for later.

Trying to impress you, Atsumu comments. “Y’know, I make a mean tuna onigiri.”

No he doesn’t. His brother does, but you don’t know that. Not yet at least.

“Oh yeah? Want to make me some one of these days?” You respond.

Securing a date with you before the night even ends? Hell yeah.

Atsumu thanks his lucky stars, confidently confirming. “Sure, how does tomorrow evening sound?”

“Baby, our night hasn’t even ended and you’re booking me for tomorrow already. Are you trying to cuff me?”

“Yes. Then wife you.” But Atsumu holds his tongue for once.

Instead he winks at you, responding with a casual “Only if you want me to” with a wide, cheeky, canine bearing smile.

Laughing, you roll your eyes at him as he swoops in to carry your basket and insists on paying for your drunken munchies haul.

Saturday, 5:15am JST

Somehow you and Atsumu end up sitting on a park bench, sharing the food he bought from the conbini. Like two excitable school children on a field trip, you trade half bitten snacks with each other while talking about everything and nothing in between.

He tells you about his twin brother Osamu, who he insists is definitely uglier and the bummy version of him; how they did everything together up until Samu decided to open up his own restaurant and stay in their hometown of Hyogo instead of playing professional volleyball like him.

Atsumu tells you all about their childhood, from catching bugs to keep as pets and sneaking them to their room only to hear their ma screaming about it in the middle of the night, to how he always took from Samu’s secret snack stash, always denied doing so when confronted, but always paid him back with interest by secretly dropping a chunk of his monthly allowance on Samu’s piggy bank. The same one that Samu would later break open to help fund the opening of his restaurant. All the petty fights that turned into brawls, only to act like nothing happened despite being covered in scratches as soon as their tired mom walked through the door after a long day of work. He talks about his twin in such an easygoing manner, love overflowing in his voice and reminiscent of when he was speaking about volleyball, but this time there’s a twinge of wistfulness and melancholy to his tone.

“You miss him.” You softly conclude.

“That idiot? Nah.”

“It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you for blackmail.” You tease.

Atsumu concedes. “Okay maybe a little.”

Loose lipped from the alcohol still flowing in his veins, he continues.

“Samu and I have always been together. Startin’ at the womb for fuck’s sake, fightin’ each other over stupid shit, getting our asses kicked by our ma, sharin’ a room, spewing random thoughts to each other only the two of us would understand, goin’ to the same school, on the same volleyball teams, with the same friends, or rather him havin’ friends that ended up adoptin’ me to their group.”

He chuckles. “I think I took it all for granted, havin’ someone there always with me.. Even if he always got on my ass for the littlest things and it used to always piss me off. Deep down I knew he was always just lookin’ out for me, just didn’t know how ta’ show it. I mean, I didn’t either.”

He laughs because he knows he still doesn’t know how. “It’s almost been four years since I moved away from home and...”

He doesn’t finish the sentiment, but he doesn’t have to.

Atsumu is alone, and although he loves to brag to Osamu and their friends about the freedom having his own space brings, he knows he’s also so fucking lonely.

You finish his thought for him by empathizing. “I get it. I mean, kind of. I don’t have a twin so I can only imagine, but I’ve been living on my own for quite some time now, in between countries with parents who don’t support my career change and friends always in different places than where I am. It’s isolating. But hey, that’s why we put ourselves out there right? Why you acted like a sleazy promoter in front of the club and why I acted like a stone cold bitch earlier only to come at you? Our lame attempts at easing loneliness in hopes that one day, someone might finally understand... or just be there to try.”

You chuckle half-heartedly, nudging his shoulders to try and ease the somber tension.

He turns to look at you, smiling up at him, listening and just trying to understand. He can’t help himself. He pulls you into a sweet kiss that tastes of strawberry daifuku and expensive champagne.

Atsumu knows that you’ll never understand what it’s like to have a twin, to live a life away from them, to suddenly pursue a passion you thought was shared only to have to do it all on your own.. He thinks it’s amazing that you’re even listening to him rant about his nostalgia, even when he knows his thoughts seem incoherent, even when he currently doesn’t even know how to define himself.

In a dimly lit park in Azabu, you and Atsumu find solace in each other’s solitude.

He doesn’t know how he managed to basically word vomit to a stranger issues he finds too embarrassing to even mention to his brother, yet here he is. He doesn’t even know why barely two hours ago you were feeling each other up at a club, about to go back to his hotel room and drunkenly fuck, but now here you were at a park in the middle of a ritzy neighborhood in Tokyo, sharing snacks, stories and innocent kisses.

Talking to you, kissing you, hell even drunkenly shopping for food with you felt like second nature to him, as if you had been with him all along and this was just part of you two’s routine. Atsumu doesn’t know why though, since you couldn’t be more different from him.

You, who finds sparks of interest then bravely torches it aflame, letting it change your life as you go along. Then there’s him, lucky to have found his passion early on, pursuing it steadfastly since then, letting it consume and define him.

Perhaps it was the fact that you found each other incredibly attractive and you both were just looking for some sort of release, sexual or not.

Or honestly, maybe it’s the shared loneliness of being newly minted adults, trying to navigate life on your own without the familiar crutches only youth affords.

Whatever it is, Atsumu finds himself even more drawn to you.

“Being alone, if it’s together with you, isn’t so bad after all,” he thinks.

He watches you as you look up to observe the night sky rapidly fading to make room for the soft pastels of dawn, a soft smile painting your pretty lips. He doesn’t realize he mirrors your smile as soon as he sees it.

At 23, Atsumu doesn’t know the answers to a lot of things. He knows now that you don’t either, but he definitely knows then that he wants you to be there with him as you both figure it all out.

Saturday, 3:45pm JST

“I need a favor Samu. I need to make dinner to pair with onigiri. Oh wait, actually I also need to make onigiri. Tuna scallion.”

“You? Cookin? What?”

“It’s for this girl...”

“A girl agreed to let you cook for her? Is she sane? Conscious? Did you force her?”

“Fuck off!”

“Bet.”

Osamu hangs up.

Atsumu panics and calls him back immediately.

“Fuck I’m sorry!! I’m sorry! I… mighthavetoldherIcookwelltoimpressher.”

“Ah so you’re posin’ as me. I knew I was the superior twin.”

“You wish!! But please... I really like her. It’s the girl from yesterday.”

In all 23 years of being Atsumu’s brother, Osamu had never heard of Atsumu wanting to impress a girl by actually doing something for her. Buying them all the shit they could want, taking them out to eat wherever they want, sure. But actively taking time out of his day, time that could’ve been spent training, to do something for someone else, not even sure if the end result might pay off?

This was new.

Knowing Tsumu’s lack of patience and short attention span, the food will be barely edible. He knows Tsumu expects this to happen already; so he’s intrigued that his brother really insists on trying.

He’s always known Atsumu to be a gambler on court. Off court, he takes the safe routes. So for him to suddenly take a gamble like this, you must have been pretty damn special.

“Alright, scrub. I’ll send you the ingredients list. Facetime me when you’re back in the kitchen.”

- - -

- - -

Notes: The places noted in the story are based on real locations in Tokyo. See below if you’d like to imagine more vividly where you and Atsumu’s adventures took place. :)

Locations used:

1. Rooftop bar/restaurant - Ce la Vi, Shibuya

2. 3am club - 1Oak, Minato

3. Conbini - Lawson's (any one of them in Azabu)

4. Park - Mamiana Park, Azabu

[shadowsfascination]

Shadamy Swordland ch 6 |

Rouge brushed the dust from her clothes after scolding Shadow about his reckless move, whose attitude remained as indifferent as ever.

“Guys?-” Amy said, trying to get their attention.

  “I knew what I was doing!”

  “Sure didn’t look the part.”

  “Guys, look!” The pink hedgehog shouted. “A floating city…?!”

  Shadow and Rouge finally paid attention to her, turning their heads to look at her. Amy walked towards the end of a cliff and bent over to the edge to overlook the place they ended up on. Multiple sandstone paths winded across the skies along floating, vine-clad buildings with spiralling paths around them, leading to the top. Shadow joined her, hooking a finger behind her belt to keep her from a potential fall into the depths he couldn’t see the end of.

“It’s so beautiful… We should have a date here sometime.” Amy dreamily glanced at Shadow.

Rouge whistled, impressed by their discovery. She flew to the closest floating pathway across from the others and created a connecting road between them, closing the gap so they could cross. Amy ran forward to the path and yanked Shadow along with her, who had forgotten he was still hooked on her belt. The male tumbled onto her, his weight pressing on her, making her falter. He quickly unhooked his finger from her belt and curled his arm behind her back to catch her.

  “Gotcha. You need to start watching your back more if you still want that date, Rose.”

 _____________________________

 Meanwhile elsewhere on a floating island above the sky-high ruin befallen floating city the three had set foot on, an echidna picked up the slightest of vibes of a familiar energy. He rested against the stone stairway that led to an altar, his eyes closed as he concentrated on the waves of energy that unexpectedly drifted among the upward winds. He rose and walked towards the bridge that connected the floating island to the city below.

  ‘Knuckles’, the guardian’s name, attempted to seize some shards of green energy that whirled up to the island, but couldn’t get a hold of it. They flew off in different directions, escaping the grasp of his hands. He doubted for a second.

  “No, I’m sure of it. This has to be Chaos Energy!”

  The quizzical expression however didn’t leave his face for the gemstones he was guarding were right here with him. They were the only thing he’d ever seen that could produce this type of energy waves. He was more than familiar with the stories of special Mobians possessing a strange power that could either use or produce Chaos Energy, but never saw one before.

“Guess it’s time for me to test out that sacred art skill.”

 Every new-born member of the designated guardian family inherited a sacred art skill called ‘vision’ when they’d been given a name. After the naming ceremony, which would secure the bond between the Master Emerald and the future guardian, the skill would develop along with them as they grew up.

  The ‘vision’ allowed them to sense Chaos Energy up to a 15 mile radius around them. It also gave them the ability to ‘jump’ into an image, zooming in on it like a telescope. The most important thing about it though was that the guardians could make the entire island temporarily invisible to hide it from outsiders.

  Knuckles rapidly blinked three times in a row, activating the skill and zoomed in on the source of the Chaos energy. Taking in three Mobians he saw walking on the floating paths of the Sky Sanctuary he gasped with unease. The black one made him recall something like he recognized him.

 “He looks like…-”

 He ran back to the altar and quickly scanned the murals on it, his eyes widening at the shocking resemblance of the images and the Mobian strolling on the floating pathways below him. He looked at the black male again.

 “It is him! But why? What’s he doing here? I’d better keep an eye on them.”

 The guardian decided to track them from the island and casted a spell to turn the island invisible, not letting his curiosity getting the best of him.

 ___________________________

  “So, what will you do when you’ve obtained the emerald, Rouge?” Shadow asked.

  “I’ll take it to the man who’s willing to help me, like I told you.”

  “What does he plan to do with it?”

  ‘He’s getting a little too interested in this. I’d better distract him.’ Rouge thought.

  “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask so many questions?”

  The bat acted overly insulted only to bump into Amy next when she wasn’t paying attention of what was ahead of her. The pink hedgehog had stopped walking without warning and the others immediately understood why. Unmistakably present was the amount of Chaos spores in the air ahead of them, leading upwards. Amy took a step forward.

  “Amy!”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Rouge yelled.

  “What?! I’m going up there! To that floating island.” Amy pointed upward.

  “Floating island?” Shadow questioned.

  “Sweetie, I don’t see anything up there. Maybe we should call it a day.”

  “How- how can you NOT see it?! It’s right there! Look!”

  Seeing the other’s puzzled expressions Amy finally believed they really didn’t see what she in fact saw: a bridge leading to a floating island. That’s where all the chaos energy’s concentrated. How could they not see it? Especially with their sacred arts levels higher than hers.

  “It’s really there! I’m telling you it’s real. I’m not crazy, okay!”

  Shadow and Rouge first glanced at each other with a kind of concern before shifting their gaze at Amy.

  “I don’t rule out that there’s something up there, okay? But let’s call it a day and go back here another time. “ Rouge said.

  “Agreed.” Shadow added.

  “Fine. I’ll show you when we get back here.”

 _______________________________________

  After Amy and Shadow parted from Rouge they walked back to the academy in the dark. It had started snowing again and a bleak breeze flared up, dusting up the snow in tiny, cold whirlwinds of powdery snow. Before Shadow waved his student goodbye and paced on to his home, he told her to get a good night of sleep before the sword fight tournament tomorrow. He hoped she wouldn’t be too tired from today’s events. Bending over to the flower pot next to the front door to pick up his keys from underneath it, he suddenly felt someone’s hands on his shoulders.

  “You and I need to talk!”

  His fellow knight hissed at him while dragging him into the shadows of the alley next to the hedgehog’s house. Blaze yanked Shadow towards her, their metal breastplates clanking at their touch. The cat pulled him up by the little chest-fur that managed to pop out from under his armour, poking a finger in his muzzle. Her eyes fiercely glanced at his own crimson ones.

  “Why are you still hanging out with her? On your day-off that is. Don’t you understand how this will add to the already existing rumours?”

  He pushed her away and stepped back. “What’s your problem?! It’s dark and no one’s even here.”

  “I am. I caught onto it. Someone else might as well.”

  “We have been training in the woods today in preparation of the tournament tomorrow. I have nothing to hide apart from my trainee’s excellent swordfight skills, that is.”

  “It doesn’t look like that, Shadow! You return in the dark after spending the day together. You’re constantly looking over your shoulder and scanning the place the entire way you’ve been walking with her as if to make sure no one catches onto you two.”

  “We’re just trying to avoid causing more rumours. I’m not even the least bit interested in her like that. I don’t care about romance, Blaze.”

  “Well, you’re clearly getting along with her. Even if what you say is true, it looks suspicious.”

  “See what you wanna see. I don’t care.”

  The lavender coloured cat grabbed his shoulders, genuine concern glistering in her eyes.

  “Care about it a little more, will you?! As a member of the high order of knights you have a reputation to uphold! We all do. Your actions might affect all of us.”

  “No need to remind me. Now stop sticking your nose in my business and worry about your own student. That hyper-annoying blue hedgehog is a real troublemaker.”

  Blaze’s face showed a variety of changing expressions at Shadow’s statement. Sonic was an adventurous spirit with an impulsive nature and when he felt it was needed, he turned out to be a true rebel at heart. It often lead Blaze to the board’s office to apologize on behalf of him when Sonic refused to. Her cheeks coloured a bright pink, all much to Shadow’s amusement.

  “That’s… beside the point right now! I propose the idea that you two will only train inside the training facilities and domes for a while, so you’d be in si-“.

  “Rejected. It’ll disadvantage her in battle. Amy has as much right to develop her fighting style in secret as anyone else.”

  “If you truly have nothing to hide, this shouldn’t be a problem.”

  He shrugged himself free of her hold.

  “This conversation’s over. Good night, Blaze.”

 ___________________________

 “Hey Ames!”

  Sonic excitedly waved at his pink friend when spotting her entering the Ruby Dome’s dressing room. He walked up to her, tossing her towel to her. Amy caught it with ease and wiped the sweat from her forehead while gulping down a glass of water.

  “Ah, thanks! I needed that. Are you up next?”

  “Sure am. How did your matches go?”

  “I’ve won every single one of them.” Amy smiled like a victor.

  The blue hedgehog gave her a thumb’s up while holding the door open for her to enter the main battlefield in the dome. Shadow and Blaze greeted their students and Amy proudly told her friend and trainer how she’d won all of her matches today. The cat expressed her gleeful surprise about Shadow and Amy’s secluded training session the other day, only to display the suspicion in her jade eyes.

  “That’s me! Wish me luck, will you?”

  “Good luck, Sonic!”

  As Amy watched Sonic enter the battlefield, she saw Shadow enter after him. She’d completely forgotten Shadow competed against the seniors today. Amy knew very well that both Sonic and Shadow were crazily fast and both had outstanding sword and dodging skills. It was still likely for Shadow to win, but every spectator today knew this match ought to be very interesting.

  Both hedgehogs had that peculiar look on their faces with a certain grin curling their lips and a certain seriousness in their eyes. Amy couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. She took a seat next to Blaze whom she felt had a similar nervousness over her. Amy said a little prayer in her thoughts that Blaze wouldn’t start questioning her about Shadow. She felt guilty enough already as it was for lying to her.

  “Good luck Sonic, you’ll need it” Shadow challenged him.

  “Heh, we’ll see about that.”

  Sonic’s grin widened and he scratched his nose. They nodded once at the referee, readying themselves at his countdown. The way the hedgehogs’ body language showed the energy inside them made it more than obvious both had long anticipated a match like this. At the sound of the ringing bell the two dashed forward, racing towards their opponent, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

  Confidently preparing for the incoming impact of their swords clashing against one another, Shadow neared his opponent, effortlessly matching his speed. Searching for an open spot to strike, the two hedgehogs closed in on each other. Sonic’s eyes fixed on Shadow’s sword to block his upcoming strike.

  Within the last two or three steps away from him, he felt his heart jolt inside his chest, his eyes drawn to their swords. The spectators screamed enthusiastically behind them. The small piece of emerald on the handgrip of Shadow’s sword flared with light as he dashed forward. The air filled with thousands of tiny turquoise fireflies, which Amy now knew were actually Chaos spores.

  “Oh boy… “ Amy squeaked, holding her breath.

  “You’ve seen this stuff before?” Blaze asked.

  “Errr, yes! It’s some sort of energy.”

  The metal swords clanked against each other with tremendous impact when Sonic blocked his opponent’s strike. His sword suddenly blazed like Shadow’s after their touch, creating a large bolt of nasty bright light. Like he had hit the break at once everything just stopped around them, totally frozen in time. He was only able to move his eyes and shifted his gaze from his sword to Shadow. The black hedgehog looked back at him, clearly experiencing the same thing.

  In the blink of an eye a small emerald was laid in the handgrip of his sword, blazing as fiercely as Shadow’s. It sent a powerful rush through his body before the frozen world came back alive again. The bolt of light swung them high into the air, smashing them down on the opposite sides of the battlefield with a loud crash. Neither of them moved. Clouds of dust formed above the place the hedgehogs crashed into the ground while the crowd gasped in shock in the stands behind them.

________________________________

END NOTES

Pfff this took me long enough. I’m actually not at all satisfied with this chaper. I feel like it’s a little stiff. Bleh. I just don’t know how to write it differently.  This always happens though. Somewhere along the process of writing a story I start to dislike what I write because it lacks decent quality imo...  AAAAHH! 

Anyway here it is! I still hope the ppl who do read it enjoy it. As always: annoying drammar mishaps/typos or tips and thoughts are welcome. Be friendly though :) Just message me.

I’m also working on a couple of oneshots and drawings. In between now and June I’ll be busy making a portrait of my grandpa who passed away in november (he had covid). I promised my grandma I’ll make her a painting of him for her birthday in june. 

@shadamyheadcanons 

[dragoqueen]

Whoops! Wrong Way 2/8

Summary: Peter has been living at Avengers Tower for 2 years, known to the workers and Avengers as Peter Parker-Stark-Rogers.  When his teacher announces that they're going on a field trip to Avengers Tower, or SI,  he's going to have to attempt to survive a day of embarrassment and keeping a secret identity. 

Words: 2125

“Hey, Pete. You need to get up, you’re going to be late.”

“Go away…” Peter mumbles, trying to push Tony away from him.

“Pete get up!”

“Nooooo” 

“Steve’s making pancakes.”

Peter sits up immediately, “I’m up, I’m up. With chocolate chips?”

“Yup, the chunks.”

“Go away old man, I need to get me some food.” 

Peter pushes Tony away from him and runs out of the room, into the kitchen where the sweet aroma of pancakes and chocolate fills the air. Steve smiles at Peter while handing him a plate filled with pancakes and drowned in syrup. As Peter takes it, Steve reaches up to mess with Peter’s hair. Peter groans and steps out of reach, sitting down to enjoy the food. 

While eating more of the Avengers trickle in and join Peter. First Tony, who enters in and gives Steve a kiss before receiving his plate and sitting next to Peter, then Bruce, followed by Bucky, Wanda, Pietro, Clint, and Natasha. Each greet Peter tiredly before sitting down with their food as well. “Good morning, паук (spider).”

“Morning Тетя нэт.”

“You want me to take you to school?”

“Yeah, let me go get changed and then I’ll be ready.” “Okay, take your time, we still have quite a bit before you’d be considered late.”

Peter quickly gobbles down the rest of his pancakes and runs into his room to get dressed. Then, he grabs his backpack and joins Nat in the elevator to go down into the lobby. The two then get on the motorcycle and ride to his school. The 10 minute ride is spent listening to music in their helmets, something that Peter designed when he first started working with Stark. Then, when Peter gets to school, Nat takes the helmet from him, gives him a kiss on his forehead, and leaves after saying goodbye. 

Thus begins his day of terror. 

First, he got insulted and beat up by Flash and his goons. Luckily, they only got a few punches in before MJ intervened, which left him with only a few bruises that would most likely disappear by the end of the day. After that he fell asleep in calculus and got woke up by the teacher who asked him for the answer to a hard equation. Somehow, he managed to solve it correctly, despite being incredibly drowsy from sleeping, and save himself the embarrassment. 

His terrible, no good, very bad day continued at lunch when he realized that he had forgotten his lunch at home. Ned and MJ both offered some of their food, but he declined, no wanting to take their food. Because of his enhanced metabolism and usually needing to eat 3-5x more food than everyone else, he was left tired and weak for the remainder of the day. This also caused his bruises, which until then had almost been done healing, to be invisible but just as painful as before. 

In chemistry, his last class, he could hardly wait for the day to be over so that he could go home, sleep, and eat some of Steve and Bucky’s delicious food. Sadly, just as class was about to end, his teacher told them, “if you guys could stay a few minutes after the bell I have a very important announcement to make.” Peter groans and silently hits his head against the desk in pain. “Dude, are you okay? Was it, you know,” Ned makes a web shooting sign with his hands. 

“Way to not be obvious. And kind of. I was up late SM-ing and now I’m super tired and bruised from Flash and his goons.” 

“That sucks, but maybe his announcement is exiting.”

“Sure, because when a teacher tells you to stay after class it’s good.”

They’re interrupted by the bell and then their teacher rushing the announcement he wanted to make, “okay guys, you can go in a second. First, however, on your way out grab a field trip permission slip. This Friday we’re going on a field trip to the one and only… Stark Industries!”

The entire class erupted in cheers except for Peter, who slammed his head down on his desk again. Flash seemed to notice and decided to comment on it, “hey, Parker, you scared now that your interning lie is going to be exposed?”

“Shut up, Flash. Just because Peter’s smart enough to get an internship doesn’t mean you need to remind everyone of it every second,” MJ retorts. 

Flash stutters before being unable to find a good enough response and turning back to pay attention to the teacher. Thanks, Peter mouths to MJ. she offers a smile in response. Mr. Harrington continues giving the details about the field trip for the next 2 minutes. Then, he finally releases the class. However, just as Peter is about to leave he says, “Peter, can you stay behind please?”  

Peter glances nervously at Ned and MJ who shrug nervously and leave the room, although he can see them waiting outside in the hallway talking to each other about what sounds like a riveting conversation on Star Wars. “Peter, I know that you’ve been telling everyone about your “internship” at Stark Industries, and it’s fine to joke about it at school. But Stark Industries is a very prestigious place and you need to respect that. I’m going to have to ask you to not mention your fake internship at Stark Industries, just to save yourself and the school the embarrassment.”

“But, sit. With all due respect, I’m not lying about my internship.”

“And there you go again about it. If you mention it again and I hear, I’m going to have to prevent you from going on the field trip. I’ve already talked to the principal about it and she’s on board with it.”

“Okay sir.” Peter sighs in defeat. 

He grabs his stuff and exits the room. MJ and Ned stop their conversation as soon as they see him. “So, what did he want to know about?”

“He told me to not talk about my internship and that if he hears me talking about it again then he’ll stop me from going on the field trip. He thinks that my internship is fake.”

“What? But it’s not. You literally gave him papers signed by Tony, Pepper, and Steve.” Ned says. 

“I know, let’s just… not mention it anymore. Okay? I don’t want to deal with it. I guess, they’ll see when we go that I’m not lying.” 

“Okay, see you tomorrow.”

“Bye guys.” 

The friends split separate ways, and Peter goes to locate Happy. He spots the black car sitting out and smiles when the door opens and he hears Happy’s voice, “come on kid!” He walks to the car and gets in, throwing his backpack into the seat next to him.”

“How was school, kid?”

“It was fine, Happy.” 

“What? Did something happen? Usually when you get into the car after school you talk my ear off unless I have food for you, and even then you find a way to continue talking.”

“Yeah, just a rough day and I’m tired. Thanks for your concern though.”

They remain silent the rest of the trip, although Peter does notice Happy glancing back at him every once in a while with a worried look. When they arrive the two say their goodbyes and Peter enters Stark Industries. Instead of going through the scanner, like everyone else usually has to do, he just waves to the security guard and walks straight to the elevator. “Welcome back home, BabyStark. Would you like me to alert the other’s of your arrival?” FRIDAY asks. 

Peter groans at the nickname, “thanks FRIDAY. No, I'll find them myself. Who told you to call me that?”

“BirdBrain #1 has set the command.”

“I thought Mr. Stark told you not to listen to Clint.” 

“Boss actually approved of it. You have arrived at the penthouse.” “Thanks FRIDAY. And please don’t call me.” “Changing BabyStark’s name to Mini-Stark.”

Peter sighs, knowing that “Mini-Stark” was probably the best he was going to get. He thanks FRIDAY as he leaves the elevator. The people in the penthouse say their hellos to Peter, Bucky and Steve from the kitchen, Clint and Sam from the couch where they’re playing mario kart, and Wanda and Pietro from the corner where they’re listening to music and Wanda is reading a book. He smiles and nods before asking, “where’s Nat?” 

“Right here маленький паук (little spider) . You want to go train?” Nat answers, walking out from a side hallway. 

“Gosh yes. I need to get rid of some stress.”

“And the best way to do that is by getting beat up by a master assassin?” Sam asks. 

“Shut up, Bird Brain, before I use you as a punching bag.”

Sam stops talking immediately and goes back to focusing on the screen where Clint has just taken first place. Peter smiles at Nat and throws his backpack to the side before going back into the elevator to go down to the training level. 

-time skip to them about to fight-

“You remember everything I told you last time?”

“Take every opportunity I can, go all out, no surrender till they surrender unless you have to surrender.”

She laughs, “basically. Alright let’s go.”

They circle each other at first, each waiting to see if the other will make the first move. Natasha, tired of waiting, quickly moves forward and throws the first punch. Of course, Peter’s spider sense tells him what to do and he moves to the side, avoiding the punch. 

Unfortunately for Peter, that’s what she was anticipating. She takes the chance to kick him in the ribs, hard. He kicks her in the stomach, knocking her to the floor and giving him a second to recover while planning his next move. She kicks her leg out and sweeps him off his feet, causing him to fall down too. She leans back on her hands and pushes up, he does the same. 

They meet up, going back and forth exchanging punch after punch. Finally, she goes in for the kill, kicking him back and flipping over to knock him down. Finally, she gets him on the ground and they fight there for a second. One has the other down for a few seconds before they manage to flip or fight their way out and pin the other. Finally, Natasha manages to pin Peter to the mat and where he can’t move at all. He taps the ground twice and she lets him go, standing up before helping him up. “That was good, you lasted longer than last time.”

“Yeah, but I still can’t beat you.”

“You also haven’t been trained in this stuff since you were young like me. You’ll get here some day.” “Yeah, when you’re 80 and retired. And even then I probably won’t. I’ll get beat up by an 80 year old woman.”

She chuckles and ruffles his hair. Suddenly, FRIDAY’s voice comes on from the ceiling, “Metal arm would like you to know that dinner is ready.”

“Alright, thanks FRIDAY. We’ll be up in a sec.” They quickly get their stuff together and head into the elevator to go up to dinner. 

-time skip to the middle of dinner brought to you by laziness ✌-

“So, Pete. is there anything that happened in school today that you want to tell us about��?” Wanda randomly asks in the middle of dinner, disrupting all current dinner talk so everyone could stare at Peter.

“I- uh… no?”

“You sure?” She holds up a piece of paper that Peter recognizes to be the permission slip. 

Shoot. “Uh… that’s, I don’t know what that is. I think that’s old from the last time.”

“What is, Peter. Wanda, what is it?” Steve asks, confused. 

“It seems like our little spider here is going on a field trip.”

“Oh that’s cool. Where to?”

“Nowhere important. They’re always boring so it won’t be fun…”

“What, you think the place you live is boring?”

“Wait… oh my freaking goodness. Ah, this is golden.” Bucky rambles, finally understanding what’s happening. 

“Wait, Peter. Are you coming here for the field trip?” Tony asks.

“You own the place, how could you not know?” Peter says. 

“I mean, I accepted a school to come here, I didn’t realize it was yours. I wasn’t really paying attention to it. But this is going to be awesome… we’re going to embarrass you so much.” “What! No. You can’t do that. Pepper… please. Stop them.”

“I’d try Peter but you know they don’t listen to me anymore. I’m sorry you’ll just have to try and survive.”

“Ughh… why me?” he groans. 

“You’ll be fine Peter. We’re just going to have a little fun.” 

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (6/8)

If you’d like to read this on AO3, go here. 

October 21, 2018

It had been years since he'd had to employ tradecraft. Mulder pulled to the curb one block over and two blocks up from Darlene's. He triple checked that his Glock was loaded and dashed across the lawn of the house he'd parked in front of, running past the house and through the backyard, vaulting over a low fence and into another backyard. A black and white cocker spaniel came running at him, angrily barking, but lost its nerve when it got within biting range, opting to jog alongside Mulder as he ran through the yard and then down a sidewalk, eventually losing the dog as it reached the end of its invisible fence.

He slowed as he got to Darlene's block, scanning the street for any sign of an idling car, a criminal, an accomplice. He saw nothing but Scully's car -- the one Lily had lately been borrowing -- parked in Darlene's driveway, the hood still warm.

He was quietly approaching the side yard when a shot rang out, and then another.

Heart in his throat, Mulder vaulted over the small railing that bordered Darlene's small patio and skidded to stop in front of her sliding glass door which had been left open, the curtains fluttering outside on the breeze. He moved on tiptoes, waiting until the curtain blew away from the doorway, showing him a clear view into the house. He saw nothing. He entered, gun-first, his breath coming in adrenaline-laced gasps.

He heard a shuffle from further inside the house, then a low female curse.  

When he quiet-stepped his way past the kitchen counter and looked into the dining room, he saw Darlene slumped against the wall, a hand pressed to a blood-soaked shoulder. The arm that had been shot hung limply at her side, her fingers still curled loosely around the handle of a pistol. Her brow was pale, laced with sweat. They made eye contact.

Darlene held up a blood-soaked finger. One. "In the bedroom," she mouthed, and he nodded at her, moving cat-like on rubber-soled shoes, wishing he could feel the snub-nosed steel of Scully's Sig backing him up.

He could practically feel the movement on the other end of the hallway, the air tense as an execution chamber, the whispered rustling of clothing, the sharp smell of cordite still hanging in the air.

When he finally got to the bedroom doorway at the end of the hall, it took him a second to see the man in the room, crouched down next to the bed, the gun hidden behind his back.

"Come on out of there, princess," the man said, softly, like he was coaxing a hissing cat.

Mulder felt a blaze of red-hot anger, a parental rage so acute it felt like a tuning fork had pinged off his bones.

"Hey," he said, more of a hiss than a word, and the man's eyes went wide and his gun swung up just as Mulder fired, three times center-mass. The man fell back on a spray of blood.

Mulder threw himself to the floor on the other side of the bed.

"Lil, it's Dad," he said, "Look at me."

Lily was prone under the queen-sized bed, face-down on the other side, but she was looking at Mulder, wide-eyed, but apparently unhurt.

"Are you injured?" he asked calmly.

She gave a quick shake of her head and licked her lips, and Mulder could see that she was about to turn to look at what was left of her attacker.

"Come this way, baby," he said, holding out a hand to her while she shimmied slowly toward him. When she finally reached him, her hands were like ice. He pulled her the rest of the way out and onto her feet, where she stood, dazed, touching her hair and getting her bearings. He moved his body in between her and the dead man on the floor on the other side of the bed, ushering her quickly out of the room and down the hallway.

When they got to the dining room, Darlene was breathing quickly but was still conscious, and she tossed a keychain at Mulder, which he caught one handed. There was a smear of blood on the ring, which he wiped on his shirt.

"Silver CR-V, two blocks east," Darlene wheezed, "don't stop for anything."

Mulder, not heeding her advice, stopped by where the phone hung on her kitchen wall and dialed 911, stretching the cord as long as it would go and pressing it into Darlene’s hand. He pressed his gun into the other and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” he said seriously, then grabbed a shocky Lily by the hand, pulled her through the theater-curtain of the breezy drapery and out into the daylight.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They'd had go-bags packed as a matter of course -- Scully had thrown them into the back of the CR-V in the parking lot of the defunct Family Video where Mulder told she and Will to meet them.

He’d leaned over and thrown open her door for her as Will swung into the backseat. He was driving before she’d even buckled her seatbelt.

“Plan C?” Scully asked. Mulder had been checking the rearview mirror more than he was checking the road. He nodded once, curtly. “We should head East,” she went on. “If they’re tracking our phones, let’s let them think they know where we’re going before we lose them.”

“On it,” Mulder said, merging onto the highway.  

After a few miles, the tension in the car eased slightly.

"Hey Dad?" said Will from the back seat. Mulder looked in the rear view mirror and connected eyes with his son. "What about the cats?" the boy asked.

Mulder thunked his head back against the head rest. "We'll figure it out, bud."

"Travis could probably do it," Lily volunteered shyly.

"How do we know Travis wasn't the one who tipped them off to our location?" Mulder asked, barely keeping a rein on his anger and fear.

"Mulder," Scully admonished quietly from beside him. She peered back at their daughter who had tears in her eyes.

"Because it was me," Lily quietly, whose face then crumpled.

Mulder slammed on the brakes and pulled the car over hard to the shoulder of the highway, gravel and dirt spitting out from under the tires. The cars that had been behind them honked liberally as they flew by. He craned his neck back at his daughter before the car had stopped moving.

"What?!" he said.

"I -- I," she started, then took a deep breath and continued, "I did a search in a university computer lab a few days ago. Then someone started following me. I lost him-"

Mulder and Scully both interrupted her at the same time.

"-What did you search-" "-And you didn't tell us-"

She looked between the two of them, clearly trying to figure out who to answer first. Finally, to Scully she said, "I wasn't even really sure he was following me. And I didn't want to scare anyone. I did what you taught me to do -- I shook him and then I went to Darlene. I didn't want to lead him home." Scully reached back and put her hand over her daughter’s, who clutched back at her desperately. "And now Darlene might be dead!"

"I think Darlene is going to be okay, Lily," Mulder said. She would have reached out to the Gunmen first thing, who would have sent someone in to protect her. “I called 911 -- she was shot in the shoulder --" he looked to Scully, passing off the conversational baton.

"Was she conscious when you left her?" Scully asked. Lily nodded, sniffing. "Shoulder gunshot wounds are easily survivable. I'm sure she'll be okay,” Scully ‘finished, sounding more sure than she felt.

Mulder took a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel like a vice.

"Lily, what did you search?" he finally asked, his voice as calm as he could make it.

The girl sniffed again and looked up. "You," she simply said, looking at her father.

Scully looked at Mulder and could feel his heart breaking for his daughter from where he sat. He sighed heavily.

“Pass up your phones,” he finally said, “everybody.”

The kids complied, handing over their phones to their mother. Mulder looked at Scully, then signaled and pulled back on the expressway when there was an opening.  “Can you pop the SIMs?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Good,” he said. “Think you can make a Faraday bag, Scully?”

“What’s a Faraday bag?” Will asked.

Scully was studying the phones, looking for the SIM trays on the side of each device. “It’s an enclosure used to block electromagnetic fields,” she said without looking up.

She looked to Mulder and smiled briefly. “I’ll only need a few supplies.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder pulled the ball cap low over his face and donned a pair of sunglasses. While the car was filling up, he went inside the gas station and grabbed a small shopping basket, filling it up with junk food and bottles of water, aluminum foil from the small kitchen section, batteries. On his way to the register, keeping his face down to avoid the cameras, he grabbed one large foil-lined bag of potato chips and plunked them all on the counter, paying for the lot in cash. He muttered a thank you as the cashier handed him the plastic bag of loot, and he whisked through the door of the station, pulling out the large bag of chips as he made his way back to the silver CR-V. He wordlessly handed Scully all the food but the chips as she was resecuring the gas nozzle and closing the car's gas hatch. Mulder tore open the bag of chips, dumped the contents in the waste bin next to the gas pump and jumped in the car with the empty bag. He pulled out of the gas station so quickly that the tires chirped on the asphalt.

"Mulder," Scully said shakily, a warning: calm down.  

Three miles later on Southbound I-69, he pulled illegally into a utility pass-through. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone, and handed it to his wife.  

“Last one?” he asked, and she nodded. She had the other three phones up on the dash, their SIM cards already removed.

She went through the supplies he’d gotten at the gas station and looked critically at the empty potato chip bag.

“Do you have what you need?”

She nodded. Five minutes later, her work complete, she looked up.

“Done,” she said.

He took the bag from her, dropped the phones inside and shoved it into the console. They turned north.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder pulled the CR-V to a stop when a sapling in the middle of the two-track made further driving impossible.

"End of the road, guys," he said, and cut the engine. "Get your bags out of the back," he said to his children, "Will, I want you to carry your mom's."

"'Kay," said his son, and made his way to the trunk.

Lily had been quiet for hours. He moved around the car to help Scully out and she gave him a look. Give her something to do . He nodded.

He pulled the handwritten map that Lauren had given him out of his back pocket and handed it to his daughter. "I'm going to stick with your mom," he told her, "see if you can suss out this map."

Lily nodded and looked around to orient herself. When he came back to Scully's side, she gripped his arm and took a bracing breath. Alarmed, he bent his knees to try to look into her eyes.

"Scully?" he said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice, "you okay?"

She nodded after a moment and gave him a toothless smile.

"Just… feeling heavy today," she said.

Moments later, Lily led the way and he lifted a low hanging hemlock branch for his wife to pass beneath. He tried not to think too much about how slowly she moved through the duff.

XxX

When they broke through the clearing, the autumn light was waning, and the shadows lay long upon the ground. They were all of them covered from the knee down with burrs and leaf detritus, and though the cabin looked low and shabby and damp, it did offer the eyes a break from the monotony of forest, and for that it was a welcome sight.

It was a small structure, the original part of it a log cabin hewn from large hardwoods, with an addition on the south side of what looked like a combination of particle board and tin that had been at one time painted red. The corners of the addition -- held up by several two-by-fours nailed together -- did appear to have been chewed on at shoulder height, supporting Lauren's handyman's assertion that moose had been here.

Above the door of the main cabin, which was secured with a latch and rusted padlock, was nailed a grey and weathered sign, hand carved with "Camp Hi-Early."

"Come on guys," he said, taking Scully by the elbow and digging his other hand deep into his pockets to pull out the key Lauren had given him months back in a polished high rise in DC. It felt like a lifetime and another world ago.

It took several tries with the key before he was able to unhinge the creaking lock, and he then had to drive a shoulder hard into the door, where the wood had expanded in the damp and stuck to the doorframe. It knocked back into the interior wall and he finally stumbled inside.

It was dark and smelled of old mold layered with the pungent brine of red cedar — the wood of which was frequently used in construction to ward off vermin. Mulder hoped it had worked. The floor was an old grey linoleum scattered with grit and bits of leaves which had blown in from the small crack at the base of the door. To the right of the doorway stood a tall newer looking gas can which Mulder found was nearly topped off when he bent down to pick it up. Next to it was a long black Maglight which he handed to Scully. He held up the gas can as she stepped into the cabin, her face one of skeptical distaste.

"I'm going to go fire up the genny," he said, as she clicked on the flashlight and shone it into the cabin's dark corners.

The generator, out back on the far end of the cabin near the outhouse, rested on a sturdy-looking wooden platform, and appeared to have been serviced at least somewhat recently. He was more than a little relieved when it started after only three tries.

When he came back into the cabin a moment or two later, Scully already had the overhead lights switched on, and was having the kids pull tarps and coverings off of the bunks in the cabin's addition. She was standing in front of a cedar cabinet, cautiously sniffing at several wool blankets that were folded within it.

"There are some mice droppings," she said, nodding toward the interior of the space, "but it's not bad. Needs to be swept and given a good scrubbing, but I think we'll survive."

Mulder nodded at her and eyed the pot bellied stove that took up most of one corner. There was a chill and it lent the cabin a dank, depressing air. The sooner they got the place warm, the better.

"There's a woodpile out back," he said, "see if you can get the kids to bring in a few armfuls."

She nodded brusquely and then braced her hand against the cabinet for a moment.

"I'm fine, Mulder," she said when she sensed his concerned gaze. "It's nothing."

When she appeared to move about normally, Mulder peered around the cabin as the kids headed out for the wood pile. The walls were mostly bare, but for a handful of cheap Kmart picture frames with fuzzy black and white stills of men dressed in flannel and Stormy Kromers standing next to the rigor-stiff remains of various woodland creatures. There were several mounted deer heads, most looking glassy-eyed and mangey, but for one 12-pointer on the far wall who had a dusty, archaic looking rifle balancing on his impressive rack. In the kitchen, on the wall above the yellowed, bowing countertop hung one color picture -- the patina of the paper suggested it had been developed sometime in the mid to late 70's -- of Clio with her arm around the shoulder of a raven-haired, gap-toothed child, who Mulder instantly knew to be Lauren, whose hand was resting around the barrel of a rifle that was taller than she was. It looked to be the same firearm decorating the taxidermy.

Scully gave a sniff from over his shoulder and he turned to see her looking at the piece.

"Think it still shoots?" she asked.

The thing probably hadn't been cleaned in thirty years, inside or out.

"Think I'll stick with your Sig," he replied. Though his wife had better marksmanship, she'd handed over her service weapon when they'd arrived, deferring to his instincts and the fact that he was currently more fleet of foot. Mulder had left his own weapon at the scene at Darlene's, pressing it into her hand with a quick kiss to her cheek and an inadequate thanks.

He had carried in not only his own pack of clothes and toiletries, but also the meager supplies that they'd picked up in a small IGA outside of St. Ignace, just over the bridge to the Upper Peninsula. It was mainly powdered Lipton soups and Ramen, crackers and Gatorade mix; lightweight supplies that were high in calories and easy to store and make with water from the hand pumped well just outside the cabin's door. He kept them in the zipped duffel he'd carried them in and left it on the small counter that served as the cabin's kitchen.

The kitchen itself was meagerly supplied with a couple of old pots and pans, plastic cups with the scratched and faded visage of Bozo the Clown on them. Thin, hand-me-down plates and bowls. A colander. A ceramic pitcher. In the middle of the countertop, in front of a small window was a large porcelain basin that served as the sink, under which, behind a faded gingham curtain sat an old, gummy bottle of Dawn, a gallon of generic white vinegar and an old metal pail.

Reconnaissance completed, it took him several minutes to figure out how to open the flue on the pot bellied stove and he built a small fire, hoping nothing had built a nest or somehow otherwise stopped up the small metal chimney. When it seemed to draw okay, he added more wood -- which was well seasoned and fairly dry, considering -- until he had a roaring fire. The wood popped and crackled as it burned, cheerful.

XxX

“The seat in the outhouse is fucking freezing,” Lily said as she came in the doorway.

Dawn had barely broken and the light outside the cabin was cold and gray. It had been a long night. The woods surrounding the cabin weren’t quiet, and everyone was jumpy, having slept fitfully on the creaking twin beds in the bunk room.

Mulder looked to Scully, who normally would have at the very least leveled a firm look at their daughter for language, but Scully merely sat there, and when she caught him looking at her, said:

“It is, though.”

By noon, cabin fever had set in. They’d played Hearts with a deck of cards Scully had found in the kitchen with a Joker sitting in for a missing five of spades. They’d eaten lunch. Mulder had massaged Scully’s lower back when she complained of pain. The minutes passed like hours.

By the time it was early afternoon, Will had found a long stick in the trees near the cabin, the end curved like a hockey stick, which he was using to hit pinecones into the side of the structure, each tatty thud further fraying already scattered and jumpy nerves. Mulder finally had to go outside and tell him to find two saplings to aim through because one more thunk into the wall outside where the rest of the family sat and Lily was likely to try to break the stick over her knee and impale him with it, and as far as Mulder and Scully were concerned, no jury would convict her.

Boredom was getting the better of them. Will sat on a bed in the bunk room, running the improvised hockey stick round and round though his fingers in a circle on the floor. Scully fitfully napped, Lily sulked and cracked her knuckles. Even Mulder felt the occasional pang for the dopamine hit of a checked handheld screen.

Mulder stood.

"I'm going to run out to the road," he said, "try to check in with the guys."

Scully, who was laying on her side on a cot that Mulder had pulled closer to the potbellied fireplace just for another place to sit, opened her eyes.

"Are you sure that's wise?" she asked.

"I'm sure the guys have buried the signals on our phones by now," he said. "And I should check in with Lauren -- it's been a while."

"Be careful, Mulder," Scully said, and gave him a significant look.

He nodded, looking at her a long moment before looking away.

Scully had dark smudges under her eyes -- she had slept worse than anyone, the old mattresses dipping her abundant hips into uncomfortable positions. She had reached the stage of pregnancy where everything was swollen and sore. Mulder couldn't think of a more miserable situation for her, his chest clutching in sympathy.

"Can I come?" Will piped up suddenly from where he sat.

"Me, too?" asked Lily, who was looking wan and morose from the small dining table in the corner.

"I want one of you to stay with your Mom," Mulder said, looking at Will when he said it, who got the message and smiled sweetly at his mother.

"I'll stay," he volunteered.

Lily shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she rose and shuffled to the door. Once they were outside, she turned to him, but didn't make eye contact.

"Lil," he said, anticipating what she was about to say, "we'll check on Darlene."

His daughter pulled her lips into her mouth and nodded, sniffing once.

XxX

Mulder pulled the phone out of their improvised Faraday bag and stood on the side of the road, turning it on on a surge of adrenaline. The guys would have known to scrub the phones and whatever voodoo that was needed so that they couldn’t be traced, but he still felt anxiety. Lily stood beside him, hugging her arms around herself. It was October and cold, and she was only wearing a long sleeved tee shirt.

Once the phone was booted, he looked at the screen. There was hardly a signal, which he supposed wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He walked up and down the road a few paces to see if the signal got any better, but it only ever got worse, losing bars completely. Finally, he stopped and dialed the number for the Gunmen that he’d memorized for emergencies. There was a click after only one ring, and then a buzzing sound. Finally, he heard Langly’s voice, though it was garbled from the bad signal.

“Talk to me,” Langly said.

“Are we clear?” he asked.

The first few words of Langly’s answer were cut off. “--s okay, you’re good. Do not relay your loca--” he was cut off again.

“What’s the status of Melvin’s sister?” he asked, cutting his eyes to Lily.

“--going to be okay.”

He nodded at Lily and gave her a reassuring smile, at which point Lily visibly relaxed.

“Ears to the ground,” Mulder said, “what are they hearing?”

“--put -- unconfir -- danger. If you -- wife -- do not --”

The call dropped. Frustrated, Mulder squeezed the phone in his hand and walked further up the road, his daughter tailing him like a puppy. He tried a further three times to connect back to the Gunmen without success. He was about to turn off the phone again when he realized that he owed Lauren a check in. He decided to try to text her instead, hoping it would go through.

Plan C, he wrote, FM. He pressed send. The phone’s ‘sending’ message shone for at least thirty seconds when he thought he heard the approach of a car over the rise to the west. He quickly shut off the phone and threw it back into the potato chip bag, grabbed Lily’s elbow and they darted into the trees lining the road.

A minute later a truck roared past, pulling a trailer nattily painted in homemade camouflage.

“Dad?” Lily whispered from where she was crouched next to him when the truck was long gone.

“It’s fine,” Mulder said, standing. Lily rose next to him. “Lots of sportsmen up here. It’s almost hunting season.”

They trudged along the two-track as they headed back to the cabin and Mulder put the bag with the phones back into the glove box as they passed the car. Before they left it, Mulder asked Lily to help him cover up the reflective lights and license plate with brush. That finished, they walked on in silence.

They weren’t far from the cabin when he finally spoke.

“You know none of this is your fault, right?”

"What?" she asked, as though she didn't hear him.

He stopped walking and so did she, looking at him in question.

"None of this is your fault, Lily."

"I don't-"

"Lily."

Realization started to dawn on her and he saw tears form in her eyes.

He said it again: "None of this is your fault, Lily. Darlene, being at this cabin, none of it. Your mother and I don't blame you, and no matter what happens, we never will. None of this. Is. Your. Fault."

With that, tears fell from her eyes and she launched herself at her father, pressing her head into his chest and squeezing him around the middle tightly. "It's okay," he whispered into her hair, brushing it back from her forehead. Her breath hissed out from her as though from a release valve. He held her for a very long time.

[hallowscandlewrites]

The Lovers Club (It AU ReaderxAll the Guys)

The Lovers Club (It AU ReaderxBill,Richie,Ben,Eddie,Stanley,Mike)

Warning: Non-con, a little bit of dominate & submissive stuff, erotica themes. They are not kids in this fic. 

Summary: Reader has moved to Derry, Maine to care for her elderly grandmother. As an outsider all her life, y/n assumed Derry would be another place she wouldn’t fit in. However, she meet’s a group of young men (early/mid twenty’s) that secretly call themselves “The Lovers Club”. It’s not the type of club where they read books or make crafts, the “Lovers Club” is filled with pleasure & experiences that y/n never thought she’d have; the problem is, some of the men start getting possessive, they want her to be theirs, only theirs.

       The library was nearly empty. And that was how y/n liked it. She has only been in Derry for a week but has already found her favorite spot to be. Other than the suspicious looks from the librarian, y/n felt like the library was one of the two places she belonged; the other being the corner house, painted pink and purple flowers, it was an oddity in Derry, the color pallet here was grays, browns and greens.  Y/n was odd herself, mostly because she was new and in a small town like this, you know everybody but nobody knew her. 

    Y/n reminded herself that she only had a few hours before her she has to make dinner for her family, which was just her and her grandmother. Immediately, y/n went to the mystery section where the world of the unknown waited for her to get her hands on it. However, she wasn’t the only one with that idea. A young man was pulling out various books from the dusty shelves. 

    “Hello.” He looked at y/n and showed a shy smile. He was handsome with blondish, brunet hair and dark eyes. 

   A rush of heat filled y/n’s cheeks, and she looked at the ground, “Hey...”, the girl said as she began to observe the books. 

  While she wasn’t paying attention, the young man (Ben) scanned y/n from head to toe while her back was turned to him. Instantly, he thought she was cute; the shy way she pushed past him, the rose-red color her face turned. It reminded him of himself during his childhood, the way he’d stare longingly at a certain red-haired vixen that has since been long-gone. 

   Before Ben thought more, he blurted, “So what’s your name?” to the girl. She turned to him, her eyes wide. She fumbled with the few books she had in her hand, shaken by the sudden intrusion. 

  “Y/n..... L/n.” She said, smiling.

     Ben took a few seconds. Her last name did sound familiar but he couldn’t add anything up until.....

  “The pink house with the crazy purple flowers! That old woman who lives there....is she...” Ben trailed off, expecting y/n to fill in the obvious blanks. 

  “My grandmother? Yes, yes she is.” Y/N answered, slightly hoping that would be the end of the conversation but it wasn’t because Ben didn’t want it to be.

  “Well I’m Ben Hanscom.” Ben wanted to shake her hand or something but they both had a stack of books in their arms. 

     They spoke for an hour, getting to know a little bit about each-other. Ben was more of an open-book with y/n, where-as she.....held back. Ben thought, when he’d asked about her family and all she talked about was her grandmother and avoided mentioning anyone else. Otherwise, they had much in common. She reminded him of some of the guys and he reminded her of the elderly woman that was waiting for her at home. His attention was fully on her and although, in the past, that usually made her uncomfortable, it was rather nice with Ben Hanscom. 

  “I have to get back home now but it was nice meeting you.” Y/n said, grateful but in a hurry. 

    Before she could go, Ben grabbed her hand. “Please meet me here tomorrow! Same time.” He asked, his big, pleading eyes, glossed with comfort & kindness. 

  “I..I-I don’t know. Maybe.” She curtly said, rushing away and tightly holding herself around her torso. Her heart thumped excitingly. 

  Ben watched her leave, eyes narrowed at the new girl who’s captured his attention in a very short time. He would have to be careful though, because if his friends found out he had a girl all to himself.....they’d take her too.

   Y/n made a simple dinner for her and her grandmother. The elderly woman pressed intrusive questions at the table, asking why her grand-daughter had been smiling like a fool when she got home, why the young girl was too shaky to eat; why she had a dreamy, far off look in her eye during the majority of the meal. Y/n shook off the questions but couldn’t hide her buzz, physically. All she said was that maybe she’d made a friend, something y/n thought difficult to do as an adult. Sleep that night came later than sooner; it wasn’t just her nervous eating her up about the next day, it was the old couch that y/n had to sleep on that she was still getting use to. There wasn’t a second bedroom.

  The next day after hours of restless tossing and turning, y/n got up and got ready to do some errands. Her first stop, was to pick up some prescription drugs for grandma and some other items too. Finding the corner drug store was easy, but when y/n arrived, two men were leaning by the front door; chatting amongst themselves as if they weren’t blocking the way.

  “Excuse me....I-I need to get in, please.” Y/n asked, forcing herself to took the two men in the eyes.

   The shorter of the two men backed away kindly but the other with dark, bushy hair and thick glasses stood there, observing the girl as if she’d interrupted something important. 

  “Richie, come on! Let’s go get something to eat.” The shorter guy said, tugging the jacket covered arm of his pal. 

  Richie just stared at y/n but not with contempt, annoyance yes but something else, curiosity. “She stutter’s just like Bill. Funny.” Richie stepped away from the door, put an arm around his friends’ shoulder as they walked away, uninterested after-all. 

 Okay, that was weird, y/n thought, stepping into the drug store. 

     After that, y/n headed back her to grandmother’s to deliver the medicine then it’d be time to meet up with Ben. The thought of him sent a bolt of shivers down her back, the way he looked at her as if he’d discovered buried treasure. Y/n had boyfriends and a girlfriend or two but she still wasn’t a pro at dating. Her shyness always got the better of her and who ever she was with, got bored. Y/n wanted to do more things in her love life but it was as if there was an invisible wall that kept her from really touching her lover. 

      In the pink house decorated with purple flowers, in a rocking chair sat Y/n’s grandmother who had a book in her hands, the tv on as background noise. 

   “Here’s your stuff, remember to take it before dinner. I’m going to the library for a few hours and then I’ll be back, is that alright?” Y/n asked, crouching down to meet her family member’s eyes. 

  The elderly woman shook her head, “You’re an adult, you don’t have to ask me permission to go out, y/n. I’ll be fine but I would like to ask who you’ll be meeting?” 

   The smirk on her grandmother’s face said everything about how quickly she catches on. But y/n did not want to tell the truth, because y/n was here to take care of her family, not date, not make friends; the young woman didn’t even know how long she’d be in Derry, anyway.

   “Nobody, I promise. I just like the library a lot. Back home, ours closed down long ago so it’s nice to come to a place where you have one at all.” Y/n said. It wasn’t a total lie, the library she went to as a kid did close down about ten years ago which left a younger and smaller y/n disappointed. 

 Y/n walked, trying to keep a medium pace. She didn’t want to seem to excited or desperate to meet a man she just met yesterday. For all she knows, he could have lied as a cruel joke. 

   The library was an older building, not fancy, it was plain, with barely any decoration or posh detailing. It’s drab appearance fit in with the rest of the town, slightly run-down but rich in community and history. Y/n stood at the bottom of the steps, unable to move forward as if the invisible wall had planted itself between the building and her. Y/n forced a foot forward as the only way to get where she wanted to be,  a surge of confidence ripping through her as she entered the library doors; but all confidence drained from her when she spotted Ben at one of the tables, a stack of books next to him. None of them were being read. Ben had been waiting, as he checked his wrist watch and glanced around. 

    Y/n wanted to walk out and forget this meet-up. Thinking it makes her crazy to think this handsome guy was waiting for her. He didn’t even know her. But it was too late because a second later, Ben saw Y/n standing by the door. A big smile crossing his face, as he waved in a short notion. 

    Y/n met the young man at the table where he gestured for her to sit down.

   “Thanks for coming. I’ll be honest and say I don’t actually have a plan but I guess we can take it slow.” Ben admitted, his eyes darting to Y/n’s chest and them immediately back up to her face. 

  Y/n pretended not to notice, she was nervous too, she thought and didn’t want to judge but couldn’t help but think the deepness in his dark eyes held something more....sinister, something he was trying to tame and keep quiet like an animal inside his own mind. 

  “You’re just fine, what books did you-” She was unable to finish her question when a handful of men appeared out of no where, around the table.

   “Ben! Remember our plan! What are you doing here?” The curly haired boy with thick glasses asked. Y/n couldn’t help but think about how she’s seen him before. 

  Unfamiliar faces surrounded the table as well, each of them darting their attention from Ben to Y/n. 

     Ben adjusted in his chair, his eyebrows narrowed and he sighed. “I’m sorry I forgot about our plans.” He said, his voiced edged with anger.

   “I remember you from yesterday. You’re that girl. Eddie, its that girl from yesterday.’ Richie mocked, elbowing the shorter man near him who rolled his eyes. 

  “Yeah well come on. Bill and Mike are waiting at the house.” Riche said, grabbing Ben’s shoulder to make him stand.

  Ben grabbed the table, he looked at Y/n with an apologetic expression. He didn’t want to leave and Y/n didn’t understand why he didn’t just say no.

  “I don’t think he want’s to leave, guys.” Y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper but they heard her.  

  The air was thick is the seconds of silence that followed; whatever wasn’t being said made it seem like there was an invisible wall between all of them. But richie was the first to speak up.

  “May I remind you Ben, what happens when you break our rules. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see your girlfriend here face the consequences of you actions for you. I think Bill would LOVE to have a girl in the group for the first time in years, don’t you think?” Richie said, putting a tight arm around Ben’s shoulders. 

    Ben thrashed out of his chair, pushing Richie away. He looked at Y/n with glassy eyes, his the corners of his lips turned down . Richie was smiling as Ben walked away with the group of boys except Richie himself and his best friend, Eddie. Richie turned his attention to Y/n, his eyes laced with malice. 

   “Don’t hang around here too much sweetheart.” Richie suggested, walking closer to y/n whose leg backs’ were stopped by a chair; she couldn’t go any further without tripping.

 “Unless you’d like to find out what we’d do to you, then by all means follow along.” Richie turned away and grabbed Eddie’s hand as they walked out of the library, leaving Y/n alone and confused. 

Later that night while her grandmother was her cat on the couch, Y/n forced herself to ask her grandmother about the strange young men she’d encountered earlier. 

  “Do you know who Ben Hanscom is grandma?” Y/n asked, taking a seat on the couch. 

  Her grandmother kept brushing the cat, “Oh that young man is actually pretty nice. I use to talk to his mother a lot; he was a chubby little thing but he’s grown quite handsome.”

  Y/n smiled, knowing that if her grandmother liked him then maybe things weren’t as weird as they seemed. “That’s great but what about his friends? Are there gangs here?” Y/n asked.

  Her grandmother stopped brushing the cat and looked at Y/n as if she just said something terrible while setting the brush on her side table. “Why are you asking about those boys? Did they harass you or something? Listen to me, Ben ain’t bad but those fellow men he hangs out with are trouble. They aren’t criminals, but they’re....dangerous I think. You don’t need to be around them, promise me you’ll stay away?” 

 “I can stay away.” Y/n said, not completely sure she meant that. 

  It took Y/n a few hours to decide if going into the deep end of this was worth it or not. I made her stomach bubble, flashes of heat touched her forehead and the invisible wall stayed still. All the signs were pointing to this being a bad idea, that Ben was one man in a town full of people just like him. However, maybe there wasn’t anyone like Ben. Others would look at Y/n and whisper to the next person or they’d just ignore her completely but Ben didn’t hesitate to let her in. Maybe it’d be wise to talk to Ben, away from those other men.

 Tomorrow. She’ll find him tomorrow and they’ll talk.

   The next day was bleak. Dark grey skies and heavy rain made Y/n grab her rain-coat, a yellow slicker that she got from the thrift store when she moved here. Nobody was on the streets, which was unusual for Derry, Saturday afternoon. Y/n made her way to the library but Ben wasn’t there and didn’t know where he would be; she really didn’t know anything about him so why was she wasting her own time trying to find this guy. But as she made her way out of the library, she ran into a familiar face; the smaller man that was always with Richie. Today he was by himself. 

  The two stared at each-other. Unlike Richie this guy didn’t look at her like he wanted fight her, he looked inconvenienced and.....sorry?

  “I don’t know where Ben is. He’s probably at home but I’m not sure. You should probably listen to Richie and stay away from us.” He said, brushing past Y/n like she was nothing.

  The woman got irate. She snapped as she gripped the arm of the stupid man and pulled him back in front of her. The rage diffused when she looked at his face and the general disdain in his narrowed eyes. His brows furrowed and he stepped back from Y/n but yet he couldn’t help but feel excited. Her touch did something to him and maybe that’s why Ben almost ditched the group yesterday for her. The group hadn’t had a newcomer in years and any candidates were liabilities. This woman however, Y/n, Ben had called her during the ‘meeting’ yesterday, could be the missing piece they needed. 

  It’s selfish, Eddie thought but he knew what he needed to do to test out his theory. “I’m Eddie, Ben’s friend. I don’t know where he is but we all usually meetup at our other friends house for some fun on Saturday night’s. Would you like to join us? There’ll be drinks and good-looking men.” Eddie finished with the childish smile that most people fall for.  

  Y/n hesitated. She’d have to call grandma and explain that she’d be late for dinner. Maybe, making some friends wouldn’t be terrible while she was here.

  “Yeah, I’ll go.”  Y/n stated. Eddie reached out his hand and Y/n took it. Eddie walked this girl to Bill Denbrough’s home. Bill was their leader. And Eddie was praying that Bill liked the new member he’d present to him. A young, naive woman who’d need to be taught some lessons; she’d need to be broken in. As to which person in the group would do that? They’ll know tonight.

  They walked in without knocking, and Eddie told Y/n to sit on the couch. She noticed that it sounded more like  a demand and not a question which made Y/n hesitate to sit but Eddie’s hard glare sent shivers down her spine and she sat.

  “Bill, It’s Eddie! I’ve got something to show you!” Eddie yelled up the stairs.

    Seconds later, footsteps came pounding down. A tall, handsome man came into the living room, clenching a ball of paper in one hand. “I’m busy doing work for the news paper.” 

 Eddie cleared his throat, “This is Y/n. I thought you’d want to meet her. maybe...” Eddie shrunk under Bill’s gaze. He couldn’t meet his leader’s eyes.

   Bill looked at Y/n. The woman was cute but that wouldn’t be enough for her to fit in. She looked at her feet while swinging her legs like a child. Bill rolled his eyes ready to dismiss her but a second glance caught an interesting detail. The yellow coat she wore reminded him of a terrible time. A memory that makes his heart ache and burn; that makes his brain pound his skull from the inside. 

  “Where’d you get that - that coat you’re wearing?” Bill stuttered, something he hasn’t done in years.

  “A thrift store, why?” Y/n asked, slightly scared by Bill’s anger. She wondered if he’s always like this but by Eddie’s raised eyebrows and the distance he put between him and Bill, makes her think not.

 Bill rushed over to Y/n and gripped the color of the coat forcing Y/n forward. “Take it off, right fucking now!” Bill yelled.

  Eddie stood in place, “Bill calm down. I thought she’d be interesting for you to meet because she’s the reason Ben almost didn’t show up yesterday.” Eddie confessed, his eyes darting between Bill and Y/n. 

   Bill looked her up and down, and smirked. He was still angry but something else now fueled him, determination. If she was the reason the usually loyal Ben lied to the group then he’d make and example of her then. Oh yeah she could be the new member of the group and in a few hours, Ben will see why he shouldn’t lie to his friends.

  Y/n jerked back onto the couch then began to sit up, “I need to go. I’m sorry if I disturbed you...” She said stepping towards the front door.

  “Sit back down. You’re not going anywhere.” Bill grabbed Y/n’s coat again and flung her onto the coach.

  “Sit there and be good for a few hours alright? If you don’t we’ll have to punish you, harder.” Bill said with each arm placed on either side of the woman’s head.

  Hours later, a few other men arrived; all of which y/n has seen before. There was Mike, Stanley Eddie, Bill and Richie. Richie glared at her awhile, making snide comments here or there at her while she desperately searched for Ben who had yet to show up. 

  Richie looked out the window “Guys he’s here!” He yelled. 

  Bill nodded at Richie who grabbed Y/n by the arm, “You’re coming with me sweetheart.” Richie said, leading Y/n upstairs. 

  Y/n tried to struggle out of Richie’s grasp but he held on to her tighter. “If you don’t stop, I swear it’ll just be worse for you.” He tugged her all the way to a master bedroom and threw her on the floor.

   They had been followed by a group of footsteps and guys yelling at each other. Ben entered the room first and when he saw Y/n on the floor, he had Richie pinned against a wall.

  “What the fuck are you thinking, bringing her into this! She did nothing wrong!” Ben was furious, his grip on Richie tightened as he pressed his friend further into the wall. 

 Bill cleared his throat, “You lied to us Ben and you know what happens when you lie to your friends. Show him Richie.” 

Richie released himself from Ben’s grip and got on his knee’s next to Y/n. She knew she was in trouble. All the men were staring at her, some of the amused or hungry. Ben was held back by Mike and Stanley.  Richie grabbed onto the girls’ clothes and started taking them off. Y/n slapped his hands away and backed into the wall but she was caught by Richie who pulled her legs back closer to him. 

  “Stop messing around or I’ll just fuck you harder.” Richie said, not taking his eyes off her body.

  Tears brimmed Y/n’s eyes. She thrashed around, refusing to let this happen to her but it did no good. Richie and Bill seemed turned on by her resistance. And Richie finished peeling off the last bit of clothes she had on, revealing her soft flesh colored mounds that she covered with her arms. 

  “Grab her wrists, I want to see her body.” Bill demanded and Richie complied with a smile.

  Richie hands firmly held Y/n’s wrists as he undid his pants. The rest of the group was in awe. They hadn’t had a girl in so long that Y/n was a miraculous sight. Her feminine curves, her lush hair and pouty lips made their knee’s weak but they all stood still, ready to watch the show.

  Richie was mesmerized by Y/n too which made him angrier. Richie looked at Eddie whose eyes were only on Y/n. Richie dug his nails into the girls skin as he prepared to enter her; he placed a hand by her face and caressed her, long enough that he could enter her with a hard thrust. He closed his eyes as he felt the luxury she was. Y/n just cried out by the rough penetration. She was no virgin but she’d never been taken like this.

 Richie opened his eyes to the pretty girl beneath him, in pain. He pouted, some part of him was guilty but he enjoyed this lifestyle and he enjoyed being dominate. He started to move in her, the wave of comfort he felt with this girl did not co-exist peacefully with the side of him that wanted to ravish her into tomorrow. He sped up his thrusting, hitting her harder while his hands travelled up and down her body. Some of her cries turned into low moans and Richie wanted to her more of her, so he went faster.

 Richie’s mouth found one of her nipples and he began to suck the delicate area while she shuddered beneath him. Richie began to groan loudly while Y/n’s moans became more clear. She grabbed onto his back and held him while his hands gripped her hips in way that’ll leave a bruise. He continued to pound into Y/n until he felt the surge to end, if he went any longer, he wouldn’t have a choice; but he didn’t care and kept riding with her until he was done. 

  Both of them laid silently as Richie let every last drop of his cum dispose into Y/n. The guilt, still present didn’t top the satisfaction he felt from taking her however as he got up, the realization hit Y/n like a truck. What had just happened to her was unimaginable but here she was, naked with a man she barely knows on-top of her. 

 The tears fell without permission and Y/n tried to hide them with her hands. Everybody saw it but they put their pleasure before her being and turned the other way. Richie looked down at her and couldn’t exactly determine what he was feeling as she cried and he didn’t like it.

  “Pathetic.” Richie called Y/n. He grabbed his clothes and rushed out of the room not ever looking back.

 Bill strode to her, satisfied that the introduction of the newest member of the club turned out well. He’d have fun with this girl, they all would. Fuck her over and over again and she’d have to get use to it.

 Bill leaned down to Y/n. Her eyes were pleading but he wasn’t going to help her. “Welcome to The Lover’s Club.” Bill said, smirking.

  Y/n didn’t know what to think or what to say. She laid there hoping this was all a nightmare but it was real. And it would become her life.

[mrsdr-ethan-ramsey]

Rookie (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Y’all, I couldn’t stop myself from writing this at like 12:30 last night. I literally fell asleep writing, but I needed to feel more angst. Honestly my biggest fear is that Ethan will start calling someone else Rookie. Plus it was an excuse not to do homework. I hope you all like it! (Also if you have any ideas or requests with Ethan, I would be more than excited to try to write them!)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Parker Kennedy)

Summary: When Parker hears Ethan call another intern Rookie, she can’t stop herself from confronting him.

Warnings: Angsttttttt, cause I love and hate how much Parker and Ethan hurt right now

Word Count: ~2500

‘So far, so good’ Parker thought as she maneuvered through the familiar halls of Edenbrook. She was off to pick up her intern, Esme Ortega, after delivering the results from the diagnostics patient she tested early today. She felt like she was on autopilot as she thought back to her discussion with Dr. Ramsey.

“We’ll be okay. We’ll make it work.”

Her heart still stopped as she thought about those words. To anyone else it would sound like they were talking about work; about their professional relationship. But they weren’t. He held her hand as he told her those words. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand so lightly that if she hadn’t looked down she probably would have missed it. Was he talking about their work relationship? A little bit. Was he talking about their personal relationship? She hoped to some greater being that he was. Needless to say, she felt like she was on top of the world.

Once she reached the nursing desk, she found Esme talking with Jackie and her intern, Molly Addison, adamantly. Parker put her best smile on her face as she came over.

“Hey all! How were rounds? Sorry I had to miss it Esme.”

Esme looked over at Parker, obviously not enjoying her peppy attitude. “It was fine.”

“Oh my gosh, no it was amazing!” Molly squealed. At this, both Jackie and Esme cringed. Parker hid her slight annoyance for the young red head as she gushed about all the ‘super cool!’ things they had seen! Parker only slightly regretted asking her about rounds, but she was happy that the young intern was enjoying her time at Edenbrook.

“I’m glad you’re finding your place here!” Parker smiled, “But I’ve got to talk to Esme about a couple things. We’ll see you guys later!”

Esme quickly followed Parker whispering a small ‘Thank God’ as Jackie sighed, being left with the human version of sunshine and bubble gum.

***

After a couple hours of showing Esme the ropes and watching her present her case, she finally found herself back at the nurse’s station. She was about to congratulate Esme on her stellar performance so she could see her roll her eyes again before she heard a deep voice call down the hall.

“Rookie!”

Parker’s head immediately snapped to the familiar voice, ready to go help with Dr. Ramsey with whatever he needed. Just as she was about to head over, she watched Molly skip over.

“Yes Dr. Ramsey?” She asked sweetly, her voice dripping with desire.

Parker couldn’t hear the rest as her high from earlier quickly died. He obviously called her that before because she came right over and he started talking to her. When did he start calling other people Rookie? That was her nickname! Right? Although, he did seem reluctant to call her Rookie when she saw him at Donahue’s…but that doesn’t matter. The point is, he had only ever called her rookie. Now suddenly this beautiful intern was Rookie?

“Woah, Parker. Don’t think too hard. There’s going to be smoke coming from you soon,” Elijah called, snapping her out of her internal panicking.

Parker turned to see Elijah and Sienna coming up, their interns following close behind. They seemed good, not overly excited like Molly but more open to conversation than Esme.

“Second year doctors meeting only,” Parker said quickly, tugging Sienna and Elijah some ways away from their interns.

“What’s up P?” Elijah asked.

“That!” Parker whispered angrily as she gestured towards Dr. Ramsey and Molly talking down the hall. “He called her Rookie!”

At this, both the doctors’ eyes widen.

“Seriously?!” Sienna exclaimed. She wouldn’t be happy to beat up Dr. Ramsey, but if Parker needed her to she would happily kick his ass back to the Amazon.

All three of them turned their eyes turned back to Dr. Ramsey and the intern. He must have felt their eyes on him, because his attention immediately turned and shot them a little glare. In panic the three quickly ran off with their interns, hoping to avoid the wrath of Dr. Ramsey.

***

Parker tried not to think about how betrayed she felt. She really did, but it always seemed to be nudging her in the back of her mind no matter where she was. She bumped into six different people because she had been so distracted about it. That’s how she ended up wide awake in her bed at 2:30 am. Her body rolling around under the covers, hearing Ethan say Rookie only to have the young intern bounce up to him happily. She was pretty, Parker did have to admit that. Her hair was naturally red, layered with different shade of red and orange that made it look like flames. She was small with a near perfect figure. Parker, on the other hand, was scrawny right now and slowly starting to gain weight now that Sienna was making sure she ate three meals a day. While Parker had brown-green muddy eyes, Molly’s eyes were crystal blue. Seriously, how could a man resist a girl like Molly?!

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the desperation to know what was going on, but Parker found herself climbing out of bed quickly. She pulled on leggings and a baggy sweatshirt before she called an Uber. Tip toeing through her apartment, she was glad Landry was no longer there. If he had, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was up ‘getting ready to go to the hospital’ as this time. She rolled her eyes at this thought before slipping a pair of shoes on and hurriedly leaving her building.

The ride was short without the normal traffic of the busy city. 2:45 was an excellent time to drive through Boston, Parker thought as she stared out the window at the lights flying by. The towering buildings were a dramatic change from her Midwest home, and she loved it. She was meant to be here; she could feel it deep within her.

Once at Ethan’s apartment, she thanked her driver and tipped her generously for driving her at such an awful time. Parker than moved towards the familiar building, pressing his apartment number praying the buzzing would wake him up. After a bit with no response, she repeatedly hit the button over and over (she knew this would annoy him awake).

“I swear if this is a prank I will call the cops,” she heard Ethan’s familiar voice crackled angrily through the intercom, Jenner barking in the background.

Quickly, she hit the speak button and said urgently, “Ethan! It’s Parker! I need to talk to you, now!”

“Parker?” He sounded confused, and tired.

Before she could reply, she heard the lock click. She didn’t waste any time getting into the building, hitting the number for his floor. The elevator shot up, brining her closer to a sleepy (and more than likely pissed) Ethan Ramsey. When she was outside his door, she hesitated. Was she really going to barge into Ethan’s apartment and demand to know why he’s calling Molly, Rookie? This was crazy! She was crazy! She should just go home, and if Ethan asks her just deny, deny, deny. She could convince him it was a dream, right? Ugh, who was she kidding. Ethan’s too smart to fall for that plan, she thought. Instead, she stood at the door; petrified as she lifted her hand and knocked gently against the wood.

Ethan had never been a heavy sleeper, so when he heard his buzzer go off the first time he thought it had been someone hitting the wrong number. After it keep going incessantly and Jenner started barking, he forced himself out of his light sleep to scare the kids ringing his buzzer shitless. He had been more than surprised to hear Parker’s voice and quickly let her into the building, assuming that something had happened. He couldn’t think of another reason as to why she’d come 3 am. He swung the door open, preparing for the worst, but was surprised to see her completely fine.

“Parker, what’s wrong?”

Hearing his voice, heavy and low with sleep she lost her train of thought. All she could think about was how she had woken up to that voice before. How he kept her in bed as long as possible, knowing that when they left her room it’d be over. She just hadn’t expected him to replace her so quickly.

“Did I mean nothing to you?” she whispered, barely audibly. Tears threatened to stream, but she refused to cry in front of him. She already felt like a child compared to him, if she cried in front of him it would be the icing on the cake. But Ethan could easily see through her, so he opened the door wider to let her in. He wouldn’t let her cry in the hallway.

As she crossed into his space, Ethan’s brows furrowed in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Rookie.”

Ethan’s face flushed. “You heard that?”

Radio silence. Neither knew what to say to make this situation better. There was an invisible wall between the two and neither were quite sure how to take it down. Parker had tried that first night at Donahue’s when she kissed him, only to receive the nicest rejection she had ever gotten. She had hoped that seeing her and kissing her again would remind him of what they had before he vanished. Unfortunately, he had a much better resolve than her. So now she didn’t know what to do. She had no backup plan on how to win him back over.

“If you weren’t interested in me, you could have just told me…if you just wanted someone prettier you could have just said, you didn’t need to string me along for two months and then flirt with another girl in front of me to make that point.”

“I wasn’t flirting with her Parker. Christ.” He ran his hands through his bed head. How had she gotten that from one conversation with an intern whose name he couldn’t even remember? Did she really think that he’d try to get with an intern when he just told her that they need to keep a professional relationship? Did she really think that low of him?

He locked eyes with her. “I didn’t know her name and couldn’t be bothered to ask.”

Parker looked back at him, begging his deep ocean eyes to tell her the truth. She saw that he was actually hurt that she had thought he was flirting with another intern. She felt stupid for jumping to conclusions, but it had hurt to hear him call another person ‘Rookie’. If he was looking for a sure way to drive her crazy, he found it without even trying.

“I…I guess I had always thought I was your Rookie. I didn’t think you’d drop it as soon as you got back…”

“Parker,” he said gently, “You’re not a Rookie anymore. You’re a skilled doctor who earned her way onto the nation’s top diagnostics team. I assumed you wouldn’t want me calling you that anymore.”

He was right, as usual. Anyone else listening in would probably find the nickname degrading, not endearing like she did. She couldn’t fight his rationale behind the name change, so instead she looked down at her feet like a child caught stealing a cookie. Ethan looked at her small frame, finally analyzing her. She seemed a little off than what he had remembered her being two months ago. She seemed a little duller, not as wide-eyed and hopeful as she did when she first walked through Edenbrook. He hated that she lost her sparkle under his watch; he had no one to blame but himself.

Parker made her way to the floor to ceiling windows, looking out over the bay as she crossed her arms protectively in front of her. She was putting up a barricade around herself, hoping to ease the pain. If the wall between them wasn’t coming down, she’d simply put one around herself to stop her from trying to scale or break it down to get to him. “You still have the best view in all of Boston.”

“I’ve learned to appreciate it more,” Ethan said with a sad smile, thinking about how Parker had pointed the view out to him the first night they were together. That felt so long ago. He studied her shrunken frame. She looked at home in his space. He loved that, but he knew he shouldn’t get used to it.

Ethan heard her let out a small yawn, reminding himself of the time. “Why do you get a little rest before your shift. You take my bed; I’ll take the couch.”

At the offer, Parker turned back to look at him. “Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’m fine on the couch.”

“Nope. My house, my rules.” He insisted, as he lead her into his bedroom. He made quick work ordering Parker to take off her shoes and get in the bed. Once she was laying down, he pulled the covers up around her.

Parker let out a yawn as she looked up at Ethan sleepily. “Thank you.”

“You’re always welcome here Parker.”

As she closed her eyes and flipped onto her stomach, Ethan couldn’t stop his heart from going wild. Seeing Parker Kennedy back in his bed made him wish that he could wake up to this view every day. He wanted nothing more than to climb into bed next to her and pull her into his chest, whispering sweet nothings as she drifted off. Fuck, he had never been a romantic before she came barging into his life. He hated that she did this to him, but loved it just the same. Fighting every urge in his body to get into the bed, he walked out to the living room and sat down on the couch. Flicking on the lamp, he slid his glasses on and began to read a new medical journal as Jenner slept happily at his feet.

***

The morning had been weird for Parker and Ethan, but they maneuvered it as gracefully as they could…like a baby giraffe learning how to walk. They stumbled around kitchen making coffee and toast. He even offered to give her a ride to the hospital. As they walked in, they saw Baz walking in as well, so Ethan (ever so smooth) made the comment that ‘He and Dr. Kennedy had met early to discuss her role on the team’. Parker couldn’t help but smile at this as she went off to find Esme and start the day.

Late in the afternoon at the nurse’s station, Parker caught a glimpse of Dr. Ramsey talking to Molly again. Her stomach flipped and she tried not to listen in to the conversation…but she really couldn’t help herself.

“Dr. Addison, I expect the results on my desk by 6. And your patient better not be dead.” He said sternly, leaving Molly with a shocked look on her face. 

As Dr. Ramsey stormed off, he met Parker with a soft smile. He may not call her Rookie at work, but he knew he couldn’t call anybody else her nickname.

[schrijverr]

Flying Solo

Reggie can dance ballet, he learned from his mother and does it whenever he’s feeling low. The band catches him and it turns into a bonding moment.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: Reggies home life from before they died is mentioned briefly. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!

~~~~~~~~~~

Alex and Luke had been friends since they were very little and had befriended Bobby in Middle School, only meeting Reggie in High School after he had moved to LA from NYC. He had easily fit in to their little group, but they did not know Reggie as well as each other.

Not that Reggie minded, he was a pretty private person. He didn’t like sharing things about himself and had become a pro in talking without ever saying something.

He did not like talking about his home and his parents, so he avoided those topics and made sure to always have an excuse ready about why they couldn't go to his home and he put on an act (partly) of being a dumbass to discourage deeper conversations.

It had even taken the other three a while before they figured out where he was from, only finding out when he had rolled his eyes at the depiction of the Big Apple in a movie.

Reggie liked his new friends though. They let him stay on their couches when the fighting got bad and never pitied him for the bruises.

They were his family.

However, he did not share everything with them, even after they’d gotten close enough to be brothers. Like the fact that his mother had been a professional ballerina, who was still angry she had to give up her studio for his fathers job, nor the fact that he had spend most of his youth there as well and knew how to dance ballet.

He knew they wouldn't judge him for it or think he was girly or weird, he had seen that with Alex. But still, it was his little thing.

The thing he did when he was down, his small comfort that reminded him of better times when glasses remained whole and his mother still smiled.

Ballet was how he had gotten into music, first learning to play pieces on the piano, later violin, then banjo and guitar, which lead to the true love that was his bass. His mother had always been a music person, his dad too. That used to connect them.

So he kept it to himself, only doing small pirouettes and some stretching in his room or old routines on the beach late at night under the stars to the beat of the fighting floating from the house.

But then they died and nothing was the same anymore. His home was a bike shack, his parents were gone and he was a ghost that could only be seen when they sung with a specific girl. The only good thing was that he would keep his flexibility for all of eternity.

Well, that might be a bit dramatic. Julie was super nice, he still had his friend and their music, and Ray was everything he had ever wanted in a dad, even if the man couldn't see him.

It was just that it hurt sometimes.

It hurt that he would never be able to socialize again, that they never had the breakthrough they had worked so hard for, that their music had been stolen by someone they trusted, that the only good father figure he’d ever known only tolerated him because he was invisible, that his friends were finding other people and he was being left behind.

Life, well, death, just fucking sucked and Reggie hated it. Not always, just some days when the loneliness crept up on him and he had no one to turn to.

So he returned to the thing that had kept him going for most of his life, before he had his band, his new family.

Ballet.

First he went to the beach, like he’d used to, but the bike shack was a bitter reminder of what he had lost and the entire area wasn’t the same anymore. So he returned to the Molina house, which used to be the Willson house.

Ray sometimes listened to classical music while he worked and, since he couldn't see Reggie, it was the perfect time.

He started doing his stretches, before he moved on to the basic positions and some other steps. It was nothing fancy, nothing like he’d used to do, but it was calming. Just flying through the space with his eyes closed while memories played on his eyelids.

His mother beckoning him closer with a smile, the older girls at the studio who had adored him when he was younger, his dad at the piano in the living room, while he either sat next to him or twirled with his mother.

The good times.

Soon it became routine to do old ballet routines in the living room while Ray was working and he was sure none of the others would be home or just whenever there was no one at all.

It was pretty handy that he could phase through objects now and didn’t have to deal with pushing everything to the side, although clothes were still an issue. He had a pair of sweats and a tank-top though, but no shoes, so he had to manage on bare feet.

But it was nice, it was comforting, which meant it had to go to shit at some point.

Today had began not that great. Reggie had been awake, like every night, but this time it hadn’t been nice and quiet, just a reminder that he wasn’t alive anymore. He’d gone on a walk, but all the changes were also a reminder and the day had just been doomed from the start.

First he’d wanted to hang with the guys, but Alex had a date (totally not a date, shut up) with Willie and Luke had heard his parents talking about his cousins and aunt coming, so he was haunting them, leaving Reggie on his own.

He had searched for Ray, but the man was away on a shoot and Reggie was truly on his own in the house. Nothing that bad, he’d thought as he decided to dance for a bit.

Quickly poofing over to the garage, he changed into what he had dubbed his dancing clothes, before poofing back and starting up some Tsjaikovski while he did the warming up. He reasoned that if anyone came home, they’d think Ray had left his music on.

He had started with something easy, but he could do that from muscle memory alone, which wasn’t helping him with getting his mind of things. So the routines had gotten increasingly more difficult throughout the day as he forgot completely about the time.

Because he was so focused on jumping at the right beats and stepping in time with the music, he didn’t notice the door opening and the small gasp Julie let out as she watched him. Nor did he notice Luke and Alex poofing back into the room next to Julie.

They had returned to find an empty garage, so they had assumed Reggie would be hanging with Ray, instead they had found Julie staring at something while standing in the doorway.

With their curiosity piqued they had poofed there and looked to find the usually clumsy bassist flying gracefully through the room.

After a fast set of pirouettes Reggie stopped, the dance was over. He stood still for a few seconds with his eyes closed as he caught his breath only to get snapped out of it by the sound of applause coming from in front of him.

He snapped his eyes open and quickly jumped out of the end position as he squeaked: “How long have you been there?”

“A few minutes.” Julie answered, “But Reggie that was amazing! I didn’t know you could dance like that.”

“Yeah, me neither, that’s sick, dude!” Luke also had processed what he had just seen.

“Why didn’t you ever say?” Alex asked.

“Uh…” Reggie gestured to the air helplessly, before he tried: “Never came up?”

Lukes eyes narrowed as he spotted Reggie lying, which Julie caught onto as she said: “Sorry, was I not supposed to see that?”

Reggie rubbed the back of his head as his cheeks started to flush. He said: “I must have forgotten the time, I’m usually gone before anyone sees. Unless you want to count Ray, but he can’t really see me. It’s my own fault.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Luke pouted, “Don’t you trust us?”

“It’s just something personal. My mother used to have a studio back in New York, we danced together when I was little while my dad played the piano, you know, before they started fighting.” Reggie explained, unable to deny Luke anything when he pouted.

“Oh.” Luke looked sheepish, “Sorry for pushing, but that was insane, bro.”

“Thank you!” Reggie grinned.

“Wait, New York?” Julie asked.

“We met Reggie in High School, he used to live in New York before they had to move for his dads job.” Alex explained.

In the background Luke pulled Reggie into a side hug, as he asked: “How can you be so graceful and trip over your own feet while walking, dude?”

“I do not.” Reggie exclaimed.

“You once tripped over air, Reginald.” Alex told him with an eyebrow raise.

Julie now finally closed the door behind her and excitedly asked: “Don’t care how clumsy he usually is, can you show me how you did that?”

“Did what?”

“The dancing? Please, I’ve always wanted to try, but by the time I had outgrown my ‘I’m-not-like-the-other-girls’ phase I was too old to get good and get lessons.” Julie said, “Can you teach me the basics?”

“I mean I could, but I you have to warm up first and I don’t know how flexible you are.” Reggie replied tentatively. Julie cheered, before she raced up the stairs to get changed into better clothes for this, leaving the three boys behind.

“I’m sorry if I pushed you to share.” Luke said after a few seconds, “I didn’t want to force you to tell us that.”

“It’s alright, man.” Reggie said, “I mostly have good memories connected with dancing, it’s something I do when I feel lonely.”

“Do you- do you feel lonely often?” Luke asked with sad eyes, making Reggie realize what he had just admitted.

Reggie didn’t want to lie to him again or make him feel like a bad friend after all he had done for him, so he just said: “It’s been hard turning into a ghost, you know I love to talk to people.”

That was not completely false, Reggie had always been the social butterfly of Sunset Curve and the life of the party. Usually talking to twenty people at the same time, none he had known three seconds ago and he did miss that it just wasn’t the whole story.

Luke saw through the words and felt guilty about leaving his friend alone when he clearly needed company. Alex seemingly had an answer, though. He carefully asked: “You wouldn't mind me joining either, would you?”

“No, of course not. You need better moves if you’re gonna keep joining Dirty Candy.” Reggie grinned.

At that point Julie came barreling down the stairs, catching the tail end of the conversation. She said: “Luke, you have to join now too. It’ll be band-bonding.”

The other two snorted at the idea of bouncy Luke trying to do strict ballet and Luke paled. It was too late for him, however, Julie was set on it. So a few minutes later they were all wearing dance clothes as they cleared the instruments to make space for Julie in the garage.

They had done jumping jacks to get the blood pumping and had struggled with touching their toes and keeping them pointed when Reggie moved to the splits.

“What the fuck, Reg.” Luke exclaimed, hissing in pain as he failed miserably in doing them himself.

“I’ve been doing this since before I can remember, Luke. Would be a bit strange, if I couldn't do them.” Reggie laughed, it was nice to make some more good memories connected to dancing, now with his new family.

From where she was struggling with the split herself, Julie huffed: “What else have you been hiding from us, Reggie? More surprises in there?”

“I mean, I don’t know if I ever mentioned I also play piano and violin?” Reggie replied.

“WHAT!”