#please fucking invision them at their best. i want to remember the dad that played baseball and video games and whose laugh filled the room

[barkingangelbaby]

venting so much i ran out of tags lmao

[rafescoke]

Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Request: The second one I was hoping could be a Rafe x reader based on the song why’d you only call me when you’re high by arctic monkeys. Maybe something along the lines of rafe only calling and giving the reader attention when he wants to hook up. Finally, the reader gets tired of it their feelings known.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader finds herself thinking about a certain boy more than what they had agreed on

Warnings: Hella angst, mentions of sex, masterbating, substance, cursing, toxic relationship

A/N: I’ve been updating a new fic every single day and the amount of love you guys are returning is beyond amazing. I love you so much, thank you for all of your kind words <3

p.s, again, my request box is always open. drop in any ideas and i’ll present to you my best :)

p.p.s, does anyone know why i can’t tag some users? im going crazy.

“I was thinking. . .” Rafe trailed, drawing invisible circles against her soft skin. She hummed in response, her eyes closed, feeling so relaxed under the silk bedsheet wrapping around her body.

“We should do this often.”

“Is twice a day isn’t enough for you?” she asked, hiding her smile. She felt him shift, placing his arms around her waist and pulling her close against him. She giggled lightly, feeling him behind her, but she was too tired to do anything.

“We should try doing it every minute,” he simply replied, smelling into her scent. She smelt like vanilla and caramel, just the way he likes it. “Is this the perfume I bought?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, feeling so peaceful she could sleep if he hadn’t pulled her closer against his hardening member. She groaned, trying to scoot forward by an inch, but was stopped by his fingers gripping her hips.

“I’m sore.”

“I know,” he replied casually, still brushing against her bottom. Before he could do anything else she turned, now facing him. She looked at his handsome face, his blue eyes and his soft lips. Her thumb grazed over his top lip, and Rafe swore he could fuck her anytime soon if she kept doing that.

“Are you not tired?” she asked, now cupping his face. He stared into her eyes, feeling himself getting lost in them before giving her a smile.

“No.”

“You’re mental,” she sighed, but she failed to contain her laugh after. She giggled, still cupping his face, and she has never felt so calm and relax before. Just them two, on top of a bed in some cheap motel, sometimes hearing the couple staying on top of them screaming at each other.

“Are you?” he continued, tilting his head into her hands. She smiled when he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth radiating from her. He loves it. He feels at peace.

(Y/N) sighed, loving yet also hating these kind of moments where she knew they would be acting like strangers after, in front of everyone else. She remembered the exact day after she had had sex with him for the first time, and how he acted so cold afterwards.

“Hey,” (Y/N) smiled, standing beside his form as he squinted his eyes against the bright sunlight to inspect his goal. He didn’t reply, swinging his golf club upwards and hit the golf ball. (Y/N) watched as it flew and landed near the goal, and expressed a smile.

“You’re good.”

“Huh?” he looked up to her, as if just noticed her existence. (Y/N) felt a pang of hurt across her heart, especially when he had just whispered so many love words into her ear the night before.

“I said you’re good.”

“Oh, thanks,” he muttered, already making his way back to where his friends were. Clearly not satisfied, she followed him suit, watching as his friends cheered for him. Rafe groaned even harder, and turned to look at her before they got too close to his friends.

“What are you fucking doing here?” he scolded, his eyes staring at a space beside her. (Y/N) raised a brow, being caught off guard, but she tried to play it cool.

“I’m a member of this country club too, Rafe,” she replied, scoffing. “You’re an asshole, do you know that? Are we not going to talk about last ni-”

“Shut up,” he grunted, looking backwards to check on his friends before pulling her a few distance away. “Look, I was on drugs last night. That was not me. Let it go, okay?”

(Y/N) has never experienced that kind of disrespect, and she swore she hated Rafe Cameron so bad that when she got home, she cried against her pillows until the night sky greeted her. 

She thought about the many other guys who tried to be with her, but she had pushed them all away for a certain rich boy living 6 houses away from her. The fact that her parents are good friends with Ward and Rose Cameron doesn’t make it any easier, not when she is forced to see him every single Saturday night for ‘barbecue night’.

“What are you thinking?” he suddenly spoke, interrupting her thoughts. She sighed, suddenly scooting away from him. He watched as she turned away, but he didn’t put much thoughts into it.

“I can still smell the weed from you,” she suddenly said, and Rafe let out a laugh. He rubbed his eyes, hating the fact that they are going to repeat the same topic they have fought countless of times before, especially after sex and they had both came down from the high.

“Don’t start, (Y/N), fuck,” he sighed, covering his face with his large hands. He watched as she scooted further, wrapping the covers around her body. “Can you please just lay right next to me?”

“I want to sleep,” she replied, and bit her lips before she could express any tears. Rafe sighed, groaning, and sat up straight, resting on the edge of the bed before reaching for his jeans discarded on the corner of the room.

“I’m leaving,” he said, and (Y/N) heard the metal bar of his belt clanking against his jeans button. “Since you wanna act like a bitch again.”

“You’re an asshole,” she replied, still not looking at him. A tear rolled down her cheeks before she could stop herself, and she quickly wiped them away.

“Whatever,” he said, and she heard the door slammed shut. She cursed, unable to stop her tears now that she was alone. The banter between the husband and wife from the room above filled the silence as (Y/N) sobbed against the pillow and she thought about how it resembled her and Rafe’s relationship so much.

He would call her when he’s under the influence, whispering sweet-nothings through the phone, saying how much he’s missing her and longing for her forehead kisses. The fight they had before the phone call will immediately evaporate into thin air, and (Y/N) will make her way to wherever Rafe is. Sometimes they’ll do it in the car in a secluded alley or sometimes in the cheap motel at Chapel Hill. 

But then it was the moments after their brief meeting that had her all moody and depress throughout the week; how he would ignore her, pretending not to see her and forcing himself to say ‘hi’ during their family barbecue.

(Y/N) never thought of herself as someone who’s prone to being in a sneaky relationship, but if that what it takes to be with Rafe Cameron, she was willing to be in one.

It had been a week since the incidence, and Rafe hadn’t call her to meet or anything of the sort. (Y/N) frowned when she thought of this, because the longest fight they had before only lasted for 2 days before he rang her up, asking to meet up. 

(Y/N) shook her head, sipping on her martini before setting it on the side of the swimming pool. She dived into the water, trying to get the heat from the scorching sun off of her, and resurfaced seconds after, her wet hair falling down her shoulders.

“(Y/N), where’s dad?” Topper appeared, squatting in front of her as she took another sip on the martini. Her eyes fell to the figure behind her brother, and she almost choked on the liquid.

“Um, I don’t know,” (Y/N) replied, staring at Rafe Cameron as he took out his phone to check on his messages, ignoring her like always. She rolled her eyes at this, knowing that there were no new texts and he was just trying to act like she wasn’t there. She dived into the water again and swam to the other side, away from Rafe and his negative energy.

If Rafe knew she was going to be in the swimming pool, he would have made an excuse to Topper, perhaps saying how he has to take Wheezie to the clinic for an appointment. (Y/N) was almost never home every time he hang out with Topper, so he thought he was safe. But there she was; in the most tempting bikini, swimming and constantly sipping on a martini.

Rafe sat right next to Topper, watching her back from the corners of his eyes as she gazed at the view in front of her. She was laying on her arms, lazily humming to a rock song Rafe plays every time he’s driving.

He jolted when Topper touched his hand. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Topper laughed, “I said, do you wanna eat?”

“I’m okay,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and thinking about good she looked in that bikini. He made a mental note to guess the brand to purchase more of that sort for her. 

“Okay, I’m going in to get myself some food. Are you sure you don’t want any food?” Topper asked, sitting on the edge of the seat. Rafe nodded, his eyes still closed, and heard him walking towards the sliding door into the kitchen.

“Why are you ignoring me?” 

Rafe opened his eyes, and to his satisfaction, the girl with the (H/C) locks stared at him with her face rested against her arms. His breath hitched, seeing how beautiful she was with the chlorine water dripping from her face, down to her neck, continuing to her che-

“God, you’re a fucking asshole,” she suddenly said, and Rafe had to shook his head from the involuntary thought that appeared in his mind. He groaned, watching as she dived in the water again, and almost catching a glimpse of her bottom. He smiled.

“Are you still a bitch?” he asked when she resurfaced, crossing his arms. “Because if you are, I don’t feel like fucking you right here and right now.”

(Y/N) halted her movements as she tried her best not to look at the smirking boy, and instead staring into the swimming pool as if there was something interesting in it. Rafe laughed, knowing exactly the impact of his words towards her, and thought about wanting to have a little more fun with her.

“I’m asking, baby,” he said softly, and her eyes landed on his. “Are you still a bitch?”

“I brought cookies!” Topper suddenly yelled, appearing from the sliding door and walking towards them with a bright smile. Rafe cursed, laying his back against the seat again and pretending to close his eyes while (Y/N) dived underwater, trying to hide her red face. He was glad when Topper handed him a cookie, talking about wanting to surf tomorrow - so oblivious towards the sexual tension between him and his own twin.

“What do you think?” Topper asked, munching on the cookies all the while trying to see Rafe’s reaction. Rafe nodded, muttering his agreement, but under his sunglasses, he was watching (Y/N) and she too, was watching him.

“Can I have a cookie, Tops?” (Y/N) suddenly interrupted, and without looking at her, Topper gave her a thumbs up sign. (Y/N) smiled, pulling herself up from the pool and Rafe almost had a heart attack from the sight of her curves donning the bikini and the water dripping off of her.

She walked towards them, hair swept to her left shoulder, and Rafe’s gaze followed her fingers as she grabbed a cookie and immediately putting it in her mouth. He watched as she closed her eyes, enjoying the sweet taste, all the while sitting under the glowing sun that highlighted her features even more.

He could feel himself getting harder.

“Well,” (Y/N) suddenly said, and Rafe had realized he was too busy looking at her to realize that she was already conversing with Topper. “I’ll go. Is Rafe coming too?” 

Both of the siblings’ attention fell towards him, and Rafe found himself clearing his throat before he spoke.

“I’m sorry, where are we?”

“Man, are you sure you’re okay?” Topper asked, removing his sunglasses to look at him clearly. “Do you need water?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Rafe quickly added, “Can I, um, go up to your room? I think I need a nap.”

“Yeah, okay,” Topper replied, not thinking much of it. They had been spending so much time under the sun during the summer, he wouldn’t be surprised if one of them got sick. “I’ll go upstairs in a second.”

He muttered a thanks, quickly making his way to the top of the house, where Topper stayed. He groaned, feeling himself getting harder, and hating the fact that she was most probably liking the way he was reacting. 

He locked the door of the bathroom he has been using since the first day he became friends with Topper, watching himself in the mirror. He closed his eyes while he tried to picture her in his mind, his fingers trying their best to untie the knot of the band of his swimming shorts.

He held himself in the palm of his hands as he pictured her again, this time with her under him. He started sliding his palm over his hardened member, his other hand safely placed on the sink for balance. He thought of the way she’ll bounce on him when she rides him, and bit his lips before he could let out any sounds.

Fuck. 

He hated how easy she’ll make him hard and how she has him wrapped around her finger. It was true how they would only do the unholy thing when he was under the influence or they were both under the influence, but he couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling in his stomach every time he saw her.

“Fuck,” he expressed, his grip on the sink tightening. His movements became faster as he tried to picture her mouth and around him, and felt his end coming. He left a string of curses as he finally released himself, watching the shot dripping off the sides of the sink. He grunted, having to do more work, and grabbed himself the white tissues before wiping his mess.

. . .

“Hey.”

“Hey, Rafe,” (Y/N) said, trying to maintain her normal tone. She bit her lips at the sound of his heavy breathing, missing his voice and also his handsome face. She longed to have his face in her hands again, staring at each other’s eyes and kissing each other’s lips right after.

“Can you come over?” he asked, his voice slurring. “No, I mean, can I pick you up?” The sound of laughter and booming music could be heard behind him, giving out his location. (Y/N) sighed, knowing the exact request behind the words, and looked at her wall to check on the time.

“It’s 12 a.m., my mom won’t allow me to go out.”

“Sneak out, then,” Rafe replied, and he said something to his friends before focusing back on her. “Please? I missed you.”

(Y/N) sighed, knowing exactly her problem.

This.

“Okay,” she replied, leaning over her mattress to close her laptop now that she had new plans for the night. “What time are you picking me up?”

“I can’t drive right now,” he said, suddenly realizing how sloshed he was. “Can you come and pick me up, please?”

She sighed again, but she had missed him so much. Him and his touches. His and his words.

Him.

“Okay, send me your location, okay? I’ll pick you up.”

(Y/N) thought about how she couldn’t do it anymore. Not when she has spent most of her life trying to make him love her. He had been friends with her brother since forever, but yet he never seemed to settle on her. She heard about the amount of girls he dated and how she tried to become like them, but after a while, she grew bored of it. She was tired of running after someone who doesn’t want to be caught.

Until the night at the party, where they had been smoking and doing coke and god knows what else. (Y/N) had watched him from the corners of her eyes, liking how attractive he looked under the party lights. He was in a black shirt, his hair messily parted, a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips.

“Thornton, do you know how perfect your smile is?” he asked, leaning towards her. (Y/N) giggled, her back against the wall as she stared into his eyes. 

“You’re mistaking me for my brother, Rafe?” she asked, with that smile again. Rafe licked his lips, looking down to hers before leaning closer to whisper into her ear.

“I’ve got to confess, (Y/N),” he whispered, sending shivers down to her spine. “You’re the hottest sibling.”

When she woke up the next day, laying right next to Rafe Cameron, she had to pinch herself a few times to make sure that she was living in reality, but when she tried to approach him that evening on the golf course, it was like nothing happened that night.

It scarred her until he rang her up again, six days after. 

“Rafe,” (Y/N) sighed, leaning over to open the passenger’s door from her seat, seeing how drunk he was. Rafe giggled, getting himself in before shutting the door and staring at her. He leaned towards her and placed a sloppy kiss against her cheeks, down to her neck and stopped directly before her chest.

“Just park in the back,” he ordered, placing his palm on the upper side of her thigh, too close to her heat. She bit her lips as she turned her steering wheel, entering the back alley of the club. Soon after he had texted her his location, she sneaked out through her brother’s porch and stole his car, driving straight towards Rafe.

She turned the ignition off and looked at him, watching as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, groaning when he missed one button. He tried to reach for her, but she pushed his hand away, her face expressing into anger.

“Don’t pull this shit again, fuck,” Rafe sighed, throwing his head back against the seat and covering his face with his hands. (Y/N) caught a glimpse of a gold ring, and noticed how it looked so similar to hers hanging around her neck.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said, filling the silence. Rafe let out a shrill laugh, still closing his eyes.

“Still a bitch, I guess.”

“This is the problem, Rafe!” she groaned, causing Rafe to look at her fully in the face when he noticed her increasing volume. “What are we?”

“What do you want to hear?” he simply said, staring at her with empty eyes. He licked his lips, “No, seriously. Tell me the answer, and I’ll say it.”

How cold could he be?

“Rafe, do you see how you’re treating me?” she asked, and she could feel her tears threatening to fall. “Do you realize the difference between sober Rafe and intoxicated Rafe?”

Of course he knew. He just chose to ignore it.

“I can’t do this right now,” Rafe said, putting his hands up in defeat. “Can we just fuck, get over whatever fight we’re having right now, and live our best lives the next day? Can we do that?”

He turned to look at her, and noticed her glassy eyes. He sighed, trying to cup her face, but she flinched at his touch.

“You make me feel like a whore,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “One second you love me, the next second you’re spitting on me.”

He just had the worst night of his life; having a fight with Ward about his business, bumping onto the pogues, catching Sarah and John B. . . and now this?

“You think too much,” he said, but his heartbeat was quickening. He stole a glance at her and watched as she stared at him with empty eyes. “I’m sober now. You know what, (Y/N)? You’re right. I can’t even look at you when I’m not under the influence.”

He turned to open the door, getting out while buttoning his shirt back, not wanting to look at her. He couldn’t stand it, he knew he’ll be too broken if he sees her cry over him. He didn’t know what to do; he panicked, never preparing for this exact moment where he knew she will ask about the state of their relationship.

He watched as she sped away from the alley, her engine roaring against the silence of that particular Friday night, where his day had been nothing but miserable. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to contain his feelings, but before he knew it, he had kicked on the empty beer can on the side of the road, watching its movement as it hit the opposite wall and fell into the trash can.

He laughed at the strange occurrence, his tears slowly rolling down his cheeks and made his way back to the club.

If there’s one thing he’s so sure about himself; Rafe Cameron hates himself more than anyone else in the world.

-

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[jackrrabbit]

Spoiled Rotten /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Request: What if Overhaul fucks spoiled rich reader because her dad owes the yakuza money and in exchange Kai takes the daughter as a form of payment using her as his personal stress doll whenever and wherever he wants making her into his perfect little doll

A/N: While I was writing this my roommate asked if I was okay bc cause I kept stopping to fan myself and blush lmaooooo god I’m such a brat. I did change the concept up a bit, hope that’s fine!

This is dedicated not only to the OG requester but also to everyone who read the excerpt I posted a while back and told me they couldn’t wait to see the finished product!! Love you guys ❤️

Tags/warnings: threats, dubcon/coercion, dom/sub, brat taming, degradation, exhibitionism, restraints, mentions of forced prostitution, verbal & physical harassment, kidnapping, kinda breath play?, long

The first thing you notice when you come to are voices. Multiple people talking to each other, speech overlapping in patterns you can’t make out. They’re quiet—not whispering for your sake, but quiet because you’re still half knocked-out and you can barely hear.

The second thing you notice is the pounding in your head and the lingering smell of something sweet spread over your nose and mouth.

The third thing you notice is the fact that when you try to blink your eyes open, your lashes brush against something soft and dark. You’re blindfolded…and gagged, and your hands feel like they’re cuffed behind your back. From what you can sense around you, it seems like you’re hunched in a kneeling position with your cheek flattened against the floor and your bare feet tucked under your backside.

At least you’re still in your nightgown. You can feel the frilly silk of it, a useless barrier between your skin and the cool air, and it reminds you of how you got here in the first place.

A loud noise in the night. Your father’s voice pleading. A heavy thump. The door to your bedroom banging open and a strange man holding you down to your bed…lifting a sweet-smelling rag to your mouth…telling you to “take a deeeeep breath, princess.”

“Hey, I think she’s waking up.”

An invisible hand fists itself in your hair and you whine in pain as your upper body is lifted off the floor. Once you’re properly upright, you hear squeaking, shoes against concrete, and the heat and breath and presence of someone behind you. Something rustles at the back of your head—you’re too scared to move so you stay still—and then the blindfold is being lifted off your face.

Once it’s gone, you have to blink for a moment even despite the low light of the dingy room where you’ve…apparently…been kidnapped. By the freaking yakuza. And for some reason, they’re all wearing bird-beak masks.

You close your eyes, almost wishing they hadn’t taken the blindfold off. You’d prefer to live in blissful ignorance of how decidedly unclean the floor is. How dare they let your face touch it? What happened to honor among thieves?

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Against your will, your eyes flick up to the speaker. He’s the only one sitting, and somehow that gives him a position of power among the others. The leader?

Unsettling golden eyes rest on yours, and you realize he’s waiting for your answer, so you slowly move your head from side to side.

“Didn’t know about daddy’s bad habits, huh?” This time the person speaking is behind you, the one who untied your blindfold, a thin man with lank, greasy blond hair. He’s the one who drugged me, you remember in a surge of panic, and you try to stand up away from him only for him to step on the chain that connects your handcuffs, jerking you back and pinning you—painfully—to the floor.

“Careful, Setsuno. I told you not to leave marks. Let her talk.”

“Got it, boss.” The blond—Setsuno—fumbles at the back of your head and then he’s pulling the gag out of your mouth.

You open and close your mouth a few times to stretch out the stiff muscles. “Oh. My. God. Was that polyester you just took out of my mouth? Do you have any idea how bad synthetics are for sensitive skin? I’m totally going to break out.”

A hush falls over the little room. You could hear a pin drop.

“…Are you complaining about the quality of the fabric we gagged you with?” the leader asks after a second.

“You may be yakuza, but you don’t have to act like savages,” you reply primly, aligning your knees together and sending a proud look off to the side.

“Ohh…little princess deserves better, does she?” Setsuno coos. He edges closer to rub his cheek against yours and laughs when you cringe away from him. “Boss, you shoulda seen her bedroom. All pink and frilly, looked like royalty lived there. Bet they treat you like a real princess at home, huh? No wonder your daddy’s in debt.”

“Daddy isn’t—“

“Your father…took out loans from my gang. My men came last night to collect,” the leader says, drumming his fingers over the armrest of his chair impatiently.

He’s wearing plastic gloves. Why is he wearing plastic gloves? Immediately your mind is spinning, imagining all the different gruesome possibilities of what they’re going to do to you. “That’s ridiculous. My daddy doesn’t need to borrow money—“

“Clearly he does, because it looks like he pissed it all away on his daughter.” The leader’s eyes are cold enough to make you shiver—although maybe that’s just the icy temperature of the floor soaking through your nightgown.

“He had a couple payments overdue, so we stopped by to ask nicely for him to pay up,” Setsuno says, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Didn’t find too many valuables in your house, but then we got our hands on a real treasure.”

“Don’t touch me—“

“You don’t seem to understand the position you’re in,” the leader says. “When I made my contract with your father, he understood that obligations like these are inherited. Since he can’t pay his debt, you’re going to be working it off in his place.”

Working it off? You swallow. Somehow you don’t think he’s talking about your little part-time job as a receptionist at your daddy’s company. “You can’t make me do that.”

“I’m not sure you’re getting the gist, princess,” Setsuno hums. “What we’re gonna do is we’re gonna put you in a room, and then men are gonna give us money, and then we’ll let those men fuck you. All that money’s gonna go toward paying what your daddy borrowed. Sound good?”

For the first time since you can remember, you’re shocked speechless. They’re going to…what? But you’re a quick thinker, and instead of letting these filthy, awful gangters boss you around, you raise your chin haughtily to look directly into the leader’s eyes. “I don’t think so. If Daddy’s the one who got himself in debt, you can make him whore himself out to pay it back. You can’t hold me responsible for something he’s done.”

Another brief silence, and then you hear a whistle echo out from the corner of the room (and you try not to look toward it, reminding yourself that this can only get worse if they know how scared you are). “She’s got a mouth on her, Overhaul,” someone says.

Overhaul. So the leader’s name is Overhaul. How ridiculous; it sounds like a villain’s name.

“Aww, princess,” Setsuno says, and once again his voice is too close for your comfort. “Little spoiled princess doesn’t know how to shut her mouth and suck it up when things don’t go her way? Well…you’ll learn.”

You don’t want to know what he’s talking about, although if you thought about it for more than a second it’d be obvious. You suck in a harsh breath and the cool, damp air stings against your dry throat. “You can’t just make me—“

“Ohh, I think we can. See, if your daddy’s been spending all of the Shie Hassaikai’s money on his precious daughter, don’t you think you owe a little too? Like, this dress—“ you jump as Setsuno’s hand tugs on the thin, floaty silk— “was bought with Overhaul’s money, so it belongs to him, right?”

You keep quiet, not wanting to prompt him to go further, but when his hands stroke up over your waist to grope your breasts in full view of everyone else in the room, you don’t really have to guess.

“And, y’know, your daddy’s been keeping you nice and healthy with Overhaul’s cash, making sure you grow up into such a pretty girl…” Setsuno’s voice is a purr in your ear as his hands squeeze your tits almost lovingly, then pinch your nipples through the fabric. “So hey—if you think about it, this tight little body…belongs to Overhaul too. Isn’t that right, sir?”

You squirm in place as best you can but with the metal cuffs digging into your wrists, there’s nothing you can do to get away from his touch. You’re desperate enough to shoot a terrified glance up at the leader—surely there are rules about treating an innocent girl like this, even for the yakuza—but he looks as unmoved as before. “Get her out of my sight. We’ll give her a rest for the next few days, and then…”

“No!” you yelp, too panicked to keep up the pretense of confidence. “I won’t, I can’t do that, please don’t make me—“

“Shhh. You’ll get used to it, princess. And if you don’t…” Setsuno’s hand combs though your hair and then trails down your neck, tracing the path of your spine between your shoulder blades. “…well, you won’t really have much of a choice, will you?”

And then he’s tugging on your cuffed hands, pulling you to a standing position, but you wriggle away from him and do everything you can to stay planted on the ground so they can’t take you away from here, away from the only man who is capable of stopping this. Overhaul. “Please! I’m— I can work it off another way! I’ll be useful— I’ll—“

Overhaul leans forward a fraction in his chair, and you wonder if you’ve caught his interest. “What, exactly? How do you think you can be useful to me?”

You bite your lip and wrack your brains, not knowing whether the question is rhetorical. What skills do you have that would be valuable to them? Suddenly all the knowledge you’ve gained in your short life seems so meaningless. You’re a decent receptionist (well, decent is a stretch), but if Overhaul wanted someone to answer calls for him you’re pretty sure he would’ve asked.

Why did you spend your life learning such impractical skills? The four-year weekend course you took on horseback riding jumps to mind and you want to hit your head against the wall. Why didn’t you ask your father to sponsor a class in something that would actually matter in the long run? And what would even be useful to these people? Accounting? Bookkeeping? Extortion?

There’s nothing valuable you can offer. You’ve wasted your life, and now you’re going to pay for it. Seriously, the only thing you’re actually good at is keeping your boyfriends (or, rather, the men you cycle through once a month) happy until the novelty wears off and you get bored and move on to the next lovesick target—

—wait. Keeping your boyfriends happy. That’s a skill, isn’t it?

Once, a little bit after you turned eighteen, you’d had a rather illicit conversation with one of your more sexually adventurous friends about being a sugar baby. Your friend had just secured a very generous benefactor, and you’d been so intrigued by all the designer purses and vacations to Cabo that you’d almost considered trying it for yourself. She’d even helped you set up a profile on Seeking Arrangements that listed your physical features and interests, but you’d blanched when it came time to post photos.

“But why do men even like this?” you'd asked your friend after your picture-less profile received its dozenth unsolicited offer. “Rich, successful guys shouldn’t have so much trouble finding girlfriends that they have to resort to paying for sex.”

“It’s a power trip,” she’d replied. “Most men never get the chance to have a woman who’s willing to do and be whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. You’re his ideal girlfriend, his therapist, his wife, and his stress relief all in one.”

At the time, you’d decided against it, deleting your profile and telling your friend you’d rather just keep taking advantage of your real father doting on you than have to fake orgasms for rich men in their 50’s. But back then, you’d had a choice; now that you’ve been kidnapped by a gang who wants you to get fucked by a bevy of strangers to pay off a debt you’ve never even heard of, you no longer have the privilege of a way out. Or, at least, the options are a lot less appealing than before.

You tilt your head back to Overhaul, eyeing him for the first time with real scrutiny instead of prideful disgust. Judging from what you can see of his face under the ornate bird mask (and again, what is with the freaking bird masks?), he’s fairly young, mid-twenties at the oldest. Short, sort of wavy dark hair (you’ve always had a thing for dark hair), a trim suit and tie, and those eyes. Like he can read your mind just looking at you.

He’s…handsome enough, you have to admit to yourself. But it’s not just that. There’s something pristine about him, something untouchable that commands discipline. He’s clean. You and him are probably the only clean things in this hovel of a room.

“Well? I’m waiting,” Overhaul says.

And now that you’ve got the idea in your head, it’s almost too embarrassing to meet his gaze. But you can do this; you have to do this. At least it’ll be your choice, and—you’re hoping—it’ll be better than the alternative.

“I could be yours,” you tell him, taking pride in the fact that your voice isn’t breaking.

His eyes narrow and you think god, his eyelashes are long. It’s not fair. Men never appreciate having long eyelashes. What is he thinking? Is he going to kill you for even suggesting it? But it’s too late now…you have to dig yourself a little deeper if you don’t want to go through with their original plan for debt fulfillment.

You force your muscles to relax, knowing this’ll be impossible to pull off if you’re tense and biting down on the words like they’re going to choke you. If you’re going to make him believe it, you have to make yourself believe it too. “You… This job must be hard. Even for a—a powerful man like you, it has to be stressful, right? Always looking out for the interests of the gang instead of your own…needs.”

Overhaul doesn’t move, but you’re so focused on him it would be impossible for you to miss the way a single muscle in his neck flexes. You’ve hit a nerve.

You take a cautious step toward him, trying to channel the sexually-liberated vixen you consider yourself when you’re not in your nightgown surrounded by men who could murder you with their bare hands and not miss a minute of sleep. “You’re always giving, aren’t you? Looking toward the future of the gang? Doesn’t it get frustrating when—when a pretty thing is in front of you and you don’t even get…a little taste of her?”

Oh god, you can feel the humiliated heat rushing to your cheeks. How can you be saying this? You’ve played the role of seductress plenty of times before, but never in such a risky situation. You just have to keep moving toward him and hope it feels authentic enough to convince him.

“You’ve worked hard. And…like he said, my—my body belongs to you.” Now you’re close enough to Overhaul and he hasn’t stopped you, so you lower yourself onto the floor, knees bumping softly into the cold surface. Kneeling between his legs.

Overhaul stares down at you, gaze as sharp and cold as before—and you’re sick with anxiety, so scared you can feel your hairs raising up on end—but if he wanted you to stop, he would have said something, right? So you shuffle a little closer and nuzzle your cheek over the inside of his clothed thigh like a kitten, then raise your head up to him to give him your best bedroom look, the one that says, I want you. I need you. No one but you. The look no man has ever been able to resist.

“…You deserve something to yourself, sir,” you murmur.

There’s a collective intake of breath as every person in the room simultaneously realizes what you’re offering. Overhaul’s expression doesn’t change, but once again, a tendon jumps out white under the skin of his throat and there’s a creak of latex on leather as his grip on the arm of the chair tightens.

“Damn,” Setsuno says under his breath from behind you. Someone whistles. You’re pretty sure you hear the word ‘slut’ being tossed around, but there’s reverence behind it.

“And what makes you think you’re so valuable?” Overhaul asks.

You close your eyes to ground yourself for a second. He’s interested, you know that much. You’ve never really had to convince someone to want you, but there’s a first time for everything. Besides, you only have to look at him for a second to know he does want you, which isn’t a surprise. Who wouldn’t?

“I’ll do anything you want, be anything you want,” you tell him, echoing your conversation with your friend back then. “Take out your anger on me if that’s what you’re into. When you’re tired of me, you can consider my debt paid and let me go.”

“And?” he prompts.

‘And’? And what? You’re offering yourself to him, your body and your mind—what more can he possibly ask from you? You cast your thoughts around, wondering what else you have to give him. “And…and I’ll do it willingly. You, um—you look like a man who appreciates obedience.”

And that’s it. Your last shred of pride is gone. Not only are you offering yourself up to a man to use as his personal stress doll, you’re saying you’ll be compliant every step of the way. Knowing yourself, you’re pretty sure that’s impossible, but you just need to make him believe it long enough for you to find a way out of here. You can pretend to enjoy getting fucked by a gangster a few times. You’ll live.

But you’re naive. And with the stream of thoughts pushing through your head, you never really consider one thing, one essential thing: how you look pleading up at him in that pale pink nightdress—soft, pure, immaculate against the filth of the underworld, the only clean body that Overhaul’s seen in a long time.

And you’re right. He is a man who appreciates obedience.

“Willingly…so you’d be willing to prove it.”

Your head jerks up and down in response. Yes! He’s taking the bait, now I just have to get him alone and—

“Then demonstrate.”

When a moment passes and you don’t move, Overhaul tips his head to the side, gaze still locked on you, and gestures vaguely at his lap. You blink and then shy back, shrinking under the hungry gazes of the onlookers. “You can’t mean—in front of them?”

“And here I thought you were going to be obedient.” There’s no mercy, no amusement in his voice. No hint of humanity.

So he’s serious. He wants you to give him a blowjob in front of—how many? one, two three, four—four other men!? Your first instinct is to jump back away from him and your next is to slap him for even suggesting it; you can actually hear the jingle of your cuffs as you attempt to raise your hand. You’ve gotten a little kinky before—blindfolds, vibrators, maybe a hand tied to the bedpost with a Hermès scarf once or twice, but this is a whole different level. And the way they’re all looking at you…like they’re itching to see you brought down. How absolutely disgusting.

But Overhaul’s waiting for your answer, and you know full well that you’re not going to deny him.

“O-Of course.” You lean forward over the seat of the chair so your face is just inches from his lap. “Um. My hands...?”

They’re still cuffed behind you, but it seems like they’re going to stay that way when Overhaul gives a curt shake of his head. “Use your mouth.”

Once again, you’re stunned into silence. How are you supposed to—? Without your hands? It doesn’t even seem like he’s going to undo his pants for you. It’s like he wants to humiliate you…oh, wait. As soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s clear that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

You give him another doe-eyed glance, bidding him to at least undo his belt, but he remains unmoved. Bastard.

After aiming another glare at him (because as obedient as you’re attempting to be, you’ve never been good at concealing your emotions) you lean deeper in and take the stiff leather of his belt between your teeth, gently easing it out of the buckle and trying to ignore the mixture of earthy and metallic tastes it leaves on your tongue. It takes a few tries, but eventually you’ve got the tail of the belt out of the buckle and you pull your head back to guide the metal down until the belt is hanging open from its loops.

A rush of accomplishment surges through you when you get it open, and then you want to slap yourself. Accomplishment? From doing this with your mouth like an animal—like a dog? You can hear laughter and mocking encouragement from the men watching, but you steel yourself and dip back in to get Overhaul’s pants undone. The button is tricky, especially with your face nudging into the hard muscle of his abdomen through his shirt, but somehow you manage to tug the fabric slit over the button and then—delicately, delicately—clamp the zipper between your teeth and peel it downward.

“Oh, she’s good,” someone says from the background. Setsuno. You look up warily, but Overhaul’s eyes haven’t moved from you.

Now that you’ve got his pants open, you’re face to face (literally) with what you’re going to have to deal with. The outline of his cock is bulging the fabric of his boxers outward, and he’s not even half erect. You snatch a look back up at him—and damn it, you have to stop doing that, because every time you look into those golden eyes and that stupid bird mask you feel like a lamb looking at a bird of prey right before it snatches you from your safe little lamb-house in the meadow and—fuck, you just have to get on with it.

So you dip down and mouth over him through the fabric, spreading the flat of your tongue over the length of his thick cock. Your mouth feels like you’ve been eating cotton (probably because they drugged you earlier) but you force yourself to salivate, letting drool spill over your tongue and dampen his boxers. When you duck and spread your lips down on the place you can feel the tip stretching out, you know the friction must feel good, because despite the lack of even so much of a deep breath from the man above you, his cock is getting harder.

You nudge your mouth over the tent between Overhaul’s legs again, letting the heat of your breath wash over him—but when he doesn’t do anything, you pull back and blink up at his face. Does he expect you to get him off through his underwear? You could, but most of your moves depend on skin-to-skin contact. There’s no way you can get his cock out with your mouth like you undid his pants, so…what? “Are—are you going to take it out?”

Overhaul brings a gloved hand to his face to rub absently at one of the straps on his mask. “…Beg,” he tells you.

Your mouth drops open and you reel back from his lap like he asked you to lick the dirt off the floor. What!? He can’t seriously expect you to—to beg him to put his dick in your mouth when you’re clearly disgusted at the whole situation. When he doesn’t give any indication of retracting the statement, you can’t help the mocking sneer that forms over your face. “Please, sir,” you spit, and a deaf man could hear the spite in your voice.

Now, that gets a reaction. Overhaul’s eyes flash and you take a certain degree of pride back at the anger you’ve clearly inspired in him. But it’s extinguished as soon as you see it, and then he’s reaching down to cup your chin, tilting your head back and rubbing his thumb over your lower lip.

“I think you can do better than that, princess,” he says, and you can hear your own mocking tone reflected back in his voice. “Unless you’d like me to give my men a turn?”

This, more than anything, scares you. He must be able to feel the way your spine goes stiff, adrenaline rushing, your fight-or-flight instinct kicking in at the prospect of what he’s threatening.

“Each of them, one by one. Between the four of them, I think they could cure that smart mouth…although they might just break you in the process,” he continues, and then his thumb is pressing into your lip, into your mouth, and you loosen your jaw to let him in. You can taste the rubbery latex of his gloves and the other men mutter agreement, encouraging their leader to turn you over to them, and you want to cry.

But you hold the tears back. “Please, sir! Please, please may I s-suck your cock sir? Please!” Your voice is more terrified than obedient, but that’s probably what he’s into anyway. When he doesn’t say anything, you babble on, unwilling to let yourself get gangbanged by a group of men who could probably wreck your pussy in a single round. “Please, please, Mr.—Mr. Overhaul, um, boss? M-Master?”

“Sir will do just fine,” Overhaul says, apparently satisfied, and he pulls his hand away from your face to free his cock from his boxers.

You let out a hot sigh of relief and angle yourself back toward his lap so you can zero in on his cock (and, hopefully, do a little to block out how sickeningly degrading all of this is: how easy it is for him to threaten you; how he has all the power and you have none; how the men around you are goading you, taunting you and calling you things that should get their mouths washed out with soap). You can focus on this, and this, at least, you’re good at. You’ve always been good with your mouth.

It’s a nice dick, too, you have to admit to yourself as you stare at it. Perfect length, girth, and a thick, cut head that you know just by looking that you’re going to have to stretch your jaw to get around. All his hair is neatly trimmed and groomed, and he even smells good, clean and fresh like soap. You’ve never been in front of a dick that didn’t smell like day-old ball sweat, so this is a first. It’s got a nice upward curve, too, and there’s a bead of pearly precum oozing out of the tip. The kind of cock that’s made for penetrative orgasms—

No. Fuck. You cannot be thinking this. You cannot allow yourself to lust after a gang leader who thinks of you as little more than an interactive sex doll. A tingle of blood rushes to your cheeks as you feel wetness pool in your panties and you adjust your stance, shuffling your thighs apart under the pretense of getting closer and hoping Overhaul doesn’t notice.

If he notices, he does the merciful thing and keeps quiet (which makes you think he has no idea you’re feeling the way you’re feeling, because he’s probably never chosen to do the merciful thing in his life). He does, however, shift one of his knees farther apart to accommodate you as you crawl close enough to him to get your head all the way between his legs.

So now you’re staring up at that unfairly pretty cock and wondering how the fuck this is supposed to start, but—best just get on with it. Pretend it’s not him, pretend it’s…no, wait, pretend it is him, it is Overhaul, the same bastard who’s looking down at you like you’re trash, except pretend you’re in control. Because no matter how many orders he gives, once you’ve got his cock in his mouth he’ll have to be the weak one. Right?

Lightly, slowly, you trace the tip of your tongue in a wet path up the underside of his cock, sliding up from the hilt to caress every bulging vein with all the delicacy and accuracy of a surgeon. When you reach the tip, you flatten your tongue to curve it around that bulbous head and then slip it off, the suction providing a wet smacking sound as your skin leaves his.

The breath of his barely-heavier exhale ruffles your hair and you relish the knowledge that he’s getting impatient. Yes. The bastard can wait.

You kiss the tip of his cock, barely moving your lips around the slit, only enough to let your tongue flick out against the precum and gather the bitter liquid up in your mouth. And then—right when he’s getting annoyed, when you can tell by the tension in his body that he’s five seconds away from shoving your head down to fuck your face—you duck closer, relax your throat, and swallow.

Like a fucking python. Or so you’ve been told.

The exhale that escapes him isn’t light this time. You can almost hear the barest hint of a groan under his breath, but you’re more focused on holding down your gag reflex as you let that heavy cock hit the back of your throat. Once he’s all the way down (or at least as far as you can get him), you rock yourself back an inch and then take him deeper, forcing yourself to hold still so he can feel the walls of your throat convulse around him, sucking him in, dry-gagging on the mass that’s filling you up.

“Fuuuuck,” you hear someone whine, and it’s not even Overhaul. It’s one of the men watching, and you feel a perverse mixture of hatred and arrogance rise up in you.

Overhaul’s cock is too big for you to properly moan around it, but you give it a go anyway so he can feel the vibration of your voice through his skin. You’re rewarded with a tangible twitch with it sitting on your tongue, and—oh—your mouth is watering out of where you’re clenching down on him at the back of your throat.

Spittle slips out over your lower lip and onto your chin, but you ignore it in favor of jerking your head up and down in fractional strokes, trying your absolute best to get yourself down to his base but knowing that he probably doesn’t give a shit anyway, not with how good your throat feels around what you’re capable of stuffing in.

What were you saying about ‘valuable’, sir? you think, and then you pull your head off his cock, so slow it’s almost cruel, sucking your cheeks in and hollowing out so those wet walls are rubbing up on every millimeter of his skin. When you reach the tip, you savor it, letting your tongue do the dirty work and looking up at him through your lash extensions before you release him with a nasty wet pop.

“Holy fuck, can I have her next?” one of the other men says, but you and Overhaul are too focused on each other to even look and see who’s talking.

His gaze is trained firmly down at you, and—no way, damn it—he looks bored, like he could be waiting in line at the DMV instead of getting sucked off by you, a girl who’s been complimented by every man she’s ever been with (including her first) on her bj technique. You know he’s feeling it—he can fake calm, but he can’t fake the way his cock’s throbbing under your tongue as you lick up the shaft. Still, now that you’ve got it in your head that Overhaul’s not going to make a sound, all you can think about is forcing him to moan. Let him look weak in front of all his little lackeys.

With renewed vigor, you lap up the length of Overhaul’s cock in sloppy dabs, leaving strings of saliva dripping off your mouth and his cock only to slurp them up, audibly, wiggling your tongue over the tip when you reach it. And that, that gets him, because you feel more than see the buck of his hips into your face as he hisses out a curse.

And—oh dear, maybe you shouldn’t have done that—because the next thing you feel is Overhaul looming forward over you, hand gripping the back of your head, and is he going to force you down? You hate that—so you take the initiative, tilting forward to take him into your mouth again, head bobbing up and down so quickly that your hair is falling all over your face, but it’s okay, because he’s got you, he’s got you, got his hands combed through your hair holding it out of your face, pulling so lightly it barely even hurts, but it does hurt, and he’s guiding you up and down on his cock and it’s hitting the back of your throat every time, and—and it hurts.

You really shouldn’t have done that.

“Take it deeper,” Overhaul instructs, almost encouraging, although you’re not given the option to pull off because he’s holding you down, pushing you firmly toward the base of his cock. You sputter around it, gagging, and you’re almost fucking choking, and he won’t let you up.

God, you’re not—not breathing, you can feel your throat choking down on him—“breathe through your nose,” he says, and this man, this villain has no idea what he’s fucking talking about, because you’re trying, eyes stinging and then you can feel tears down your cheeks. You try to squirm back on your knees, but somehow the combined force of every muscle in your body is outmatched by his single hand on the back of your head—and—and—you squeeze your eyes shut, relax, open your throat as much as you can and—

Overhaul forces your mouth down to the hilt.

Fuck, is he going to keep you there? You can’t, you can’t—if you could move, you’d be shaking your head and begging him to let you stop and as it is you’re whimpering around his cock. Your throat is making gagging noises and you’re crying, actually crying, actually fucking crying on a man’s dick. So this is what it feels like to be used?

“Good.” There’s something lower and darker in Overhaul’s voice, a husky undertone from the growl he’s trying to suppress. “Hold still…remember, you asked for this.”

You did. You asked for it. Begged for it. Pleaded.

“Want me to forgive your father’s debt…? You’re going to have to earn it.” He pulls out an inch just to ram himself back in. You make a weak attempt to move your tongue around his shaft and you can feel the shudder all the way through him, his cock twitching where it’s locked in your throat. “Mm…good girl. Just a little—little longer—“

His fingers are tightening in your hair, curling around the strands and tugging instead of just applying pressure to your head. He’s close, you think, and then you struggle back, not wanting him to cum down your throat, what if you choke on it? Like, really choke? You don’t want it, don’t want his cum in your stomach, but then he sighs and tells you again that you’re a good girl, and ohfuckohfuck you must be so scared you’re desperate for praise because you feel heat rush into your cheeks and your cunt when he says it and you try to move your tongue like you did earlier and his hips jerk forward and—he cums. In your mouth.

It’s salty, you think. The next thing you think is that you want to gag, because you’ve never had cum in your mouth before. For all your sexual experimentation, you’ve never let a man cum down your throat like this, always telling them it shoot it on your tits or whatever because you are not a person who should have semen in her mouth, much less ingest it.

But right now, with Overhaul lazily dragging your head up and down for a last couple pumps on his softening dick, your choice isn’t spit or swallow. It’s swallow or choke.

Hot. Thick. The texture is slimy, so viscous you can feel it going down your throat in strings. Part of you wants to throw up. It’s repulsive. Filthy. You hate this.

Part of you has to shift your position again so you don’t have to feel your own wetness slicking up the insides of your thighs.

How. Is. This. Possible. You may have just had to swallow your pride (and not just that), but what about your dignity? You’re a good person…okay, well, even if you’re not a ‘good person’ per se, you don’t hurt anyone with your selfishness. You don’t deserve to be kept as a pet by a sadistic bastard who gets off on watching you almost pass out on his cock, and you certainly don’t deserve the humiliation of finding that you’re turned on by it.

And yet. Here you are. Still held securely in place until Overhaul slides you off him. As soon as your mouth is free you suck in a dizzyingly deep breath, but even that is too much for your battered throat and the breath turns into a cough; you instinctively fold down away from Overhaul so the mixed saliva and cum you’re hacking out spatters in cloudy white flecks across the floor instead of on his clothing.

“Stop that,” Overhaul scolds, hauling you back up by your hair and forcing your mouth closed with a hand on your jaw. “If you make a mess, you’ll be cleaning it up.”

Considering what he just made you do to him, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s implying you’ll have to lick it off the floor. You clench your jaw, holding back the convulsions of your throat as best you can, and hope he doesn’t press the issue.

Now that you’ve got your coughing under control, you can start to sense things that you had been tuning out before: the men hooting and wolf-whistling and applauding your performance, the traitorously persistent throb of your clit pulsing under your panties, and Overhaul’s hand releasing your chin to pet down your neck. “Now. What do you say when someone gives you a meal?”

Just you wait, bastard. I’m going to tie you to your bed and set fire to it. But you’ve got the sense that that answer won’t go over well, so you take a deep breath and look up at him again, meeting those piercing gold eyes with your own. “Thank you, sir,” you say in a soft whisper because it’s all your abused throat can manage.

“That’s right.” His hands feel colder than the concrete under your legs as he spreads his hand down your neck, only to toy with one of the lacy pink straps of your nightdress. “Stand up.”

You stand shakily, too cowed to even consider stepping back from him. Without warning (much less permission), Overhaul lifts the hem of your stupidly short dress up past your thighs, exposing your panties and lower belly to view.

“Hold this in your mouth,” he says, and after only a few seconds of hesitation you open up and bite down on the fabric so you’re effectively holding up the skirt for him. Overhaul skims gloved hands down the sides of your hips and comes to a rest when he reaches your panties—and why did you have to wear these today? Shiny red satin in the front; the back is just flowers worked in crimson lace. You know exactly how good you look in these panties, and judging by the things Overhaul’s men are saying, they’re more than appreciative of the view.

But Overhaul ignores them in favor of hooking his fingers under the elastic and pulling the panties down until they’re resting stretched between your upper thighs. You don’t have to see them to know there’s a string of slick connecting the lips of your cunt to the fabric, betraying in full technicolor detail how turned on you’ve gotten just from sucking him off. He gazes down at your pussy and then up to you as if waiting for you to admit it, but you stay silent.

“Well, well. What a nicely-trained slut I’ve found myself.” He gracelessly pulls the panties the rest of the way down your legs and lets them fall to the ground. “Do you always get this wet when you let your boyfriends fuck that smart mouth?”

It takes you a second to comprehend that he’s expecting an answer. “N-No, sir,” you reply, voice muffled by the fabric you’re still holding between your teeth.

“I suppose I can’t leave you like this, not after you took me so nicely.”

Does he mean he’s going to get you off? No freaking way. You drop the hem of your dress, let it flutter down over your thighs, try to scramble back, but his hand on your waist keeps you from moving. “I— It’s okay, I don’t need—“

“No, I think you do. I think I’m going to reward my pet for a job well done.” He leans back, eyeing you without sympathy. “I’d have you touch yourself, but—“

The mere possibility that he might remove the handcuffs has you straining against them again, and the sound of metal against metal rings out from behind you.

“—but, I think it’s best to keep the cuffs on for a few days…until you’ve settled down.”

Days? He can’t leave you in chains for days, helpless and powerless, so easy to take advantage of. “You can’t,” you whimper, and even though you mean for it to be a decisive statement, with your throat ravaged and hoarse it’s downright pathetic. Overhaul doesn’t even bother reprimanding you for talking back.

“My men have been patient,” he muses, and an enthusiastic wave of agreement wells up from the others. “Any of them would be happy to do it.”

You may have been through a lot in the past hour alone, but there is no way you’re going to let those rowdy criminals have their way with you. You send a nervous glance around the room and as predicted, not a single one of them looks like they have the slightest shred of control over themselves.

None of them…except Overhaul.

Still eased back in his chair, he looks just as relaxed and unaffected as he did when he was explaining your father’s debts to you. But there’s something flickering in his eyes, something he isn’t going to say to you, isn’t going to say out loud. A challenge.

Maybe, once again, he’s waiting for you to ask for it yourself. And if it’s a choice between him and one of the grimy ruffians who’ve been looking at you like dogs look at meat, you know what you’d prefer. Well—really, you’d prefer option C: none of the above (your current state might be uncomfortable, but you’re not so wanton that you’d rather cum in front of strangers than keep your legs together). Unfortunately, you’re starting to come to terms with the fact that ‘no’ is no longer an option.

Overhaul’s stare flicks from you to an unseen figure behind you, and you can tell he’s about to summon one of them over so you force yourself to move, lurching forward and climbing into his lap to straddle one of his thighs with all the grace you’re capable of. You feel the stir in the air when he inhales sharply, surprised, and his masked face is so close to your neck that you wonder if he can smell the lotion you put on before you went to bed last night.

It’s one of your favorite scents: vanilla, lilac, orange blossoms. You bought it because it smelled pure.

“Please, sir, I don’t want them,” you breathe next to his ear, injecting every ounce of sexual frustration you’re feeling into the needy tones of your voice. “I’m yours. I belong to you, just you. No one else—please, sir…Overhaul.”

He’s quiet for a long, tense moment, and you think he’s going to hit you, or maybe even kill you for your disobedience. Push you off his lap at least. But just when you’re teetering on the edge of jumping back from him and begging for forgiveness for talking out of turn, you feel it—a low rumble of laughter from deep in his chest.

Big, cold hands wrap around the sides of your ribcage under your breasts and his fingernails dig into you through the layers of latex and fabric. He tilts forward, forcing you to arch away and all you can think about is how horribly weak you are compared to him. Are you trembling? Will he be angry if you feels how afraid you are?

“You know, I guess I’ll keep you after all,” he hums, stroking his fingers through your hair and down your neck. “How does that sound, princess? I think you’d like that very much, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” The response comes all too easily, even if the words taste bitter in your mouth. You’ve never said the word ‘sir’ so much in your life…but as he repositions you on his lap and slides a single hand up the inside of your thigh under your dress, you bite your lip and decide to hold back your protest.

If you’re going to have to learn manners, you’d better do it sooner rather than later. Something tells you Overhaul’s not going to accept any less than your best behavior if you want to pay off your debt.

[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.

[space-city-traffic]

yet again im back on my bullshit so... (gazes with mixed feelings at the TV show Firefly) i could fix him.

my extremely long thoughts about my Own Personal Good Version of Firefly (with plenty of spoilers for the show and the movie) under the cut:

things that are getting axed first thing no question:

out with the whole “let’s add in a thin veneer of Chinese cultural aesthetics out of context for ~flavor~” deal. just no.

instead, let’s hire some actors from a bunch of different cultures and work with them to figure out how their characters would bring those cultures into space with them!! and also hopefully bring some experiences with immigration/alienation/travel into it, since the Whole Core of Firefly is about how humanity always brings our doomed and silly and stubborn and unique warmth with us even into the cold void where nothing is familiar or homey in the slightest.

let’s respect our sex worker character shall we?

i do appreciate that Inara’s work as a companion is described as legitimate and well respected in the show. however please stop having your captain and hero call her a wh*re every five seconds against her clearly expressed wishes and portraying this as just a totally acceptable thing

let’s be more respectful of our characters of color and also have some more diversity, shall we?

others have put it better than me but yeah, the way Zoe and Book are treated is very uncomfy, and the rest of the show is depressingly monochromatic. come on let’s do better.

stop the weird confederacy hat tips

again others have pointed these out with much more thoroughness than I could, but the names of some characters and locations, as well as some of the language used to describe the browncoats, has uncomfortably confederate vibes. instead i propose we very Clearly tip our hats to the Alliance equaling space capitalism instead! you can’t go wrong with space capitalism as a villain.

don’t! make! the! psychotic! character! violent!

listen i love River Tam with my whole heart. but you should absolutely not portray your only character with psychosis as violent because of that psychosis!!!!!!! and yeah, a huge part of her character is that her brain got fucked up by the alliance and so she hallucinates and is also a super ninja. but like. she doesn’t need to be a super ninja for her character to work, okay? the crew does not need to be scared of her for her character to work, okay??? more on this later bc it would take a lot of care and nuance to make her character work but i really think it can be done

things we are absolutely keeping:

found family tropes my fucking beloved

this should be self evident. this is why the show is as appealing as it is despite its flaws, at least in my eyes.

malcolm reynolds, the knight in dusty armor

there’s something so appealing to me about what Mal stands for. because at his core is this ridiculous, silly, stubborn, doomed devotion to what he thinks is important and right, a romantic idealism thinly covered by cynical cowboy platitudes that he thinks make his bleeding heart totally invisible. and he is so obvious and entirely incorrect. bless. this is a man who will do anything for his family, who charges into swordfights to defend his friend from a man who wants to turn her into an object despite having no clue how to hold a sword. at his worst, he starts brawls in bars just for the martyr’s thrill of being persecuted for supporting the right; at his best, he inspires downright religious belief from his crew because he represents a romantic and chivalrous and doomed dedication to the right thing over any practical concerns. and then he throws a “selfish” quip over it with 100% confidence that everyone fell for his clever distraction and believes him to be a dirtbag. he’s oblivious and ridiculous and god he makes me want to be a better person because he’s just so goddamned sincere. stupid, but sincere. 10/10 himbo. <3

Mal and Inara ultraslowburn friends to enemies to friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers to friends to...

there’s nothing i love more than a ship that’s just two people who know each other way too well, and they’re each the only one who knows the other well enough to call them out on their bullshit. the way Mal and Inara interact in the show sometimes makes me uncomfy but like. the core of their relationship has to stay.

space western aesthetic

i need the cows on a spaceship scene to stay like i need air okay

that sweet sweet religious shit

mal, who lost his faith in gd and a whole lot else during the war. who lost his faith in himself, and now feels he has to hide the part of him that still wants to be good, because he knows he can’t be anymore, and he feels like it’s embarrassing for a guy like him to want something so unattainable. who takes a preacher on board, and the preacher has lost something, too. the preacher has his own past, and his own questions. but not questions like the observant neurodivergent girl, the one who wants to interact with and understand this thing that’s so important to him, but it just doesn’t click with how her brain works and she feels like something needs to be fixed, either the Bible or herself. and Mal takes care of them all, and slowly, he begins to find gd again, not in a prayer but in humanity. humanity doesn’t need to be fixed, like the alliance thinks. the shining imperfect strawberry sweetness of it in his family’s smiles is something to be worshiped and served and devoted to. and he finds he has something to believe in again. (and his crew find that he’s given them someone to believe in, too. and maybe suddenly he’s a saint.)

and finally, my brilliant ideas as to what i would like to add:

TRANS WOMAN KAYLEE RIGHTS

listen her femininity is so important to me okay? it’s so thrilled about everything that’s pretty, from dresses to the spaceship’s electric innards, and it’s so non-traditional and grease stained until it’s not and it’s pink and ruffly and twirly, and she never sees any of it as a contradiction, because none of it contradicts, it’s all just her! her gender is warmth and love and prettiness, feeling pretty and appreciating the pretty and making her friends’ days pretty too.

i want us to find out she’s trans in that episode with the ball, and i want us to find out alongside Mal who just never asked or never realized. Kaylee gasps and squeals at the dress in the shop window and Mal makes an off handed, ill considered comment, and then... someone yanks him aside and hisses a few very significant words in his ear. and suddenly he remembers what the blue white and pink she painted all over the engine room means, and he knows he has something to make right. so he buys her that dress himself and lets her know just how pretty she looks, and when he walks into that ball with her displayed on his arm like something precious, he looks the proudest out of any man there. and she notices. for a few seconds, of course, until there’s chocolate, and ‘nara, and a chandelier—and some horrible girls, but she’s used to that, until—suddenly, she finds her people. a group of old men who light up when she jokes about compression coils and whack presumptuous boys who ask her to dance. they adopt her as a treasured granddaughter, and Mal is beaming at her like a proud dad, and she finds that one of her new elderly friends gazes a little too long at her bracelet, and so she gives it to xem and teaches xem a few new words, and... it’s a good day, huh? it’s a really good day. (of course, then the captain has to go and punch somebody in the face, but it was a real nice party up until then.)

also she and Simon are both transhet t4t im correct and you know it

time for a better River Tam

the first thing we’ve established is that this version of her is not unpredictably violent and the crew is not scared of her!!!! it makes no sense to take a kid who’s primarily brilliant, experiment on her brain, give her telepathic powers....... and tack on the fact that she also has super strength and speed and dexterity and what not, AND say that they programmed her to be super violent. no! no. not only is that extremely harmful rep, that’s also just stupid.

instead!! my version of River is in fact not terrifying to the crew, but is actually the one they feel safest around. River has always been totally blunt, she was one of those kids you could tell realllllly early was autistic, and she doesn’t like being disengenous at all. so you can always trust her to tell the truth and not play weird passive aggressive games or have any hidden agenda, which makes her just a really chill person to be around. also, one of her longtime special interests is music and dance, so whether or not she’s nonverbal on a given day, there will always be some sort of beautiful sound when she’s around. she does have the singing voice of a dying crow unfortunately but that’s ok bc Simon’s is even worse and they’re both incredibly competitive so you’ll at least get free entertainment out of the affair.

my version of River does have psychosis and hallucinations because of the trauma of the experiments, and they are really troubling to her. she and Simon work together to find ways to cope and meds that help, and it’s a process, but there are some things that help.

the only thing she gained from the academy was the ability to hear people’s thoughts and sense the future a little bit. and yeah, that led to her picking up a few spooky secrets at the beginning, which, yikes. and for a while, it was hard to figure out which voices were real and which were hallucinations. but around her friends, she always feels safe to ask “did you just think about triple cheese burritos or was that just a me thing?”, and they’ll always tell her the truth no matter how embarrassing their thoughts are, bc it’s important to all of them to respect her and help her sort accurately through what’s reality and what’s not. and bit by bit, she gets better and better at figuring out what kinds of things tend to be telepathy and what kinds of things tend to be psychosis, and that each one feels a little different. and because of the trust and respect and support of her found family she’s able to do that in a safe environment!!!

trans man Simon rights

listen i wanted to keep him as just a side note on Kaylee’s list but he is my son and he’s important to my heart so here goes

out on the outer rim where Kaylee’s from, gender ain’t much of a big deal, there’s an individualistic quality to life out there, and so if the trail you blaze is the trail of a woman or a man or neither or both, that’s respected even in the rare cases where it’s not outright encouraged. but in the inner planets, where competition and connections and public faces and family names are everything, you have to be what’s expected of you to survive. you can’t change your brand, you can’t be anything other than what your family planned for you since before you were born, it’s incredibly hard to survive in such a hyper competitive environment, and so your very identity becomes just a tool in how to market yourself for better success.

needless to say Simon (just as autistic as his little sister and also very trans) fuckin hated it there. but he was very good at it. correction: he was very good at his very specific field of STEM, good enough to where people stopped talking about how cute he looked in bows and started talking about how impressive his work was from a very young age. and his work had no gender. he could be whatever he wanted to in equations. so that was where he could express himself, and gd, he got so much praise for it, he never wanted to stop.

not until he discovered that his sister needed him, and ran away, and needed a disguise, and realized... suddenly, every stifling rule and prying eye was a million miles away. he was freefloating, freefalling, with none of the charted paths he’d been following all his life... so you know what? fuck it. he’s always enjoyed the name Simon. and since it’s not on any legal records, it’ll make him just that much more untraceable.

and on Serenity, starting over with new people who never knew him before his transition feels like an unbelievable blessing that just dropped right into his lap. he has to keep up the secrecy, he has to make sure they never find out who he used to be, because gd, it’s so nice when they look at him and say his name right, and he doesn’t know if he can handle losing that, not when it’s so new and so important to the person he’s finally becoming. but then one day, the unthinkable happens, the wanted posters for his arrest have an old name on them, they’re looking for the Tam sisters, and... nothing changes. the crew of Serenity could not give even a tenth of a percent of a fuck, and it doesn’t seem like they even know they’re supposed to. huh. that’s new. Simon could get used to that, he thinks.

i’m sure there’s more i could add, but it’s 4:30 in the morning now, so if more occurs to me, ill simply add it in a reblog tomorrow. if you’ve read down this far, i am in love with you. please let me know your Better Firefly ideas, too, bc im always down to yell about this show!!!

[lovelucybradford]

I Pretend You’re Mine (All the Damn Time).  One

Tumblr’s hottest new Derek HalexOC fic is “I Pretend You’re Mine (All the Damn Time)”. Fueled by one too many rom-coms and the author’s thirst for Tyler Hoechlin, this fic has EVERYTHING: childhood friends to lovers, fake engagement, mutual pining, Derek Hale’s family alive and well, and SLOW BURN (oh so slow). 

One: get me with those green eyes, baby.

“Yo Rosie, you better go over there. Cinderella’s about to steal your man,” Stiles commented nonchalantly, sipping on a Coke from a paper cup. He was trying to hide his smile, but Rosalie could see right through him. 

 “Shut up, Stiles. He’s not my man.” Rosalie rolled her eyes, but didn’t stray her focus from Derek, Cinderella, and her niece, Charlotte. The young girl who was playing Cinderella couldn’t be older than twenty-one. (Way too young for the man.) Sure enough, she had her dainty hand on Derek’s bicep, likely commenting on his muscles. (That had happened with Ariel, an hour before. To which Rosalie thought that she’d be able to fill out those seashells much better.)

  Derek laughed, scratching the back of his neck—a sure sign that he was uncomfortable with all of the attention. It had been his tell for as long as Rosalie had known him—verging on twenty-five years, give or take the time that they’d spent apart in college and Rosalie’s four-year stint living with her father’s family in New York City (a mistake, big mistake).

 That had been a change; Derek used to eat up all of the attention from women when they were younger. A lot had changed with the two friends through the years; lovers had come and go, lessons learnt the hard way—but the one thing that hadn’t changed was their connection to each other. No one quite understood Rose the way that Derek did, and she’d like to think that nobody understood Derek like she did. 

 Charlotte pointed one blue-painted nail towards her aunt, and suddenly all eyes were on her. “Auntie Rosie! Come here!” she called loudly.

 Rosalie obliged, excusing herself from Lydia and Stiles to join Charlotte, Derek, and the princess. Cinderella smiled kindly at Rosalie, eyes briefly flicking up to her hair. She turned to Derek and asked, “Is this your princess?”

To which Rosalie flushed a bright shade of red. Cinderella was likely referring to Rosalie’s elaborate updo. Her red hair was covered in green glitter, complete with a sparkling, emerald-encrusted tiara. Charlotte, ever the shy child, had been nervous to go to the Bippity Boppity Boutique by herself, and convinced her aunt to play along. So, Rosalie had gotten the works, and Derek and Stiles teased her incessantly all day. She didn’t mind, really. She’d do anything for the kid, whether that be to sell her soul or literally become her childhood moniker.

Derek chuckled apprehensively and ducked his head. Charlotte answered for them both, giving Stiles Stilinski more fodder for his jokes.

“Yeah! This is my Auntie Rose. Uncle Derek calls her princess,” Charlotte smiled proudly. In the distance, Stiles guffawed, and Lydia leaned her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder. Likely hiding her own laugh, for Rosalie’s benefit.

Rosalie stumbled over her own words. “I…um…childhood nickname. Anyways, Char, do you want a photo so the nice people behind us get a chance to meet Cinderella, too?”

The four posed for the photo, Derek and Rosalie on either side of the princess and Charlotte, curtseying, in front. Lydia snapped a quick photo on her own phone and on Rosalie’s. Then, Rosalie graciously thanked Cinderella and the photographer, eager to get the hell out of the awkward situation.

Derek swept Charlotte up on to his shoulders, giving a polite nod before he turned to leave as well. Cinderella tapped him on the arm, and added, “Have a magical day! Your girlfriend is beautiful.”

Rosalie lost her footing at Cinderella’s words, almost crashing embarrassingly to the floor if it weren’t for Lydia’s supportive hand on her wrist. She let Lydia lead her out of the building, feeling quite lightheaded all of a sudden.

The sun had set in the near hour that they had waited to meet the princesses. The stars in the sky sparkled above, bringing a whole new sense of magic to ‘The Most Magical Place on Earth’.

“Oh my God, this picture is so cute. I’m def posting it on Instagram,” Lydia said, smiling down at her phone. She moved closer to her cousin so Rosalie could see the photo as well.

Rosalie cringed. “Um, no you’re not.��� Charlotte looked adorable, as she always did. Rosalie, well—Rosalie looked exactly as she felt in that very moment. The pink in her cheeks perfectly matched the tapestry behind them, and she couldn’t blame that shade of red on a blossoming sunburn. And Derek—he looked like a deer in the headlights, wide-eyed with a tight-lipped smile. Even when mortified he still managed to look gorgeous.

It hurt Rosalie’s heart just a little bit to think that Derek was mortified because someone thought they were together. But she buried that feeling once she saw Stiles saunter towards them, Derek and a chattering Charlotte in tow.

“Too late. I already did,” Lydia announced, lips tilting into a playful smile.

“Already did what?” Derek peeked over the women’s heads.

He groaned loudly, making Charlotte laugh. “Please tell me you didn’t just post that on Instagram. God, Laura’s never going to let me live this down.”

Rosalie tilted her head upward and smirked at her best friend. “Just wait until I tell her that you got hit on by Cinderella.” She laughed at Derek’s flared nostrils and pursed lips. He smacked her on the shoulder blade with the hand that wasn’t supporting Charlotte, who was clutching Derek’s black baseball-cap covered head with both little hands.

Charlotte tilted her head, befuddled. “What does ‘hit on’ mean?”

Rosalie and Derek stayed silent, neither one wanting to answer. Stiles replied for them, winking up at the little girl. “It means that Cinderella liked your Uncle Derek. Anywho, I’m thinking that we hit that Millennium Falcon ride.”

Rosalie checked her phone. “Can’t, Stiles. We have to head to dinner.”

Stiles sighed. “Please God, tell me your father won’t be joining us, Rosalie. I already have to deal with him for a whole week. If I have to spend more time with him than that, I might chop off my arm with a lightsaber.”

Lydia checked the map, and the group began their trek towards the restaurant.

“What’s Stiles talking about?” Derek asked as he hiked Charlotte further up his shoulders.

“The Martin Family Reunion,” Lydia commented, looking pointedly at Rosalie. Rosalie, who had forgotten all about it. And furthermore, forgotten about the little white lie she’d made when she RSVP’d. “A weeklong cruise hosted by Rosalie’s father.”

Lydia pursed her lips, green eyes flitting back and forth between her cousin and the path in front of her. “The one that Drew will be at… with his new fiancée, Ashleigh.”

The mention of the two made Rosalie sick. It had been a blow to Rosalie, when she’d seen that Instagram post on her sister’s profile. She was stupid to think that it couldn’t get worse than her ex and her sister sleeping together behind her back. Then they had to go and get engaged, a sure reminder to Rosalie that Drew, the one love of her life, would never really be gone from it.

“Gross,” Charlotte said. “Drew the Douchebag.”

Rosalie’s mouth gaped in repulsion. She glared scoldingly up at her niece. “Charlotte Marie Martin, who told you that?”

Charlotte had the nerve to not look guilty at all. She innocently smiled back at her aunt. “Daddy… and Uncle Derek.”

Rosalie turned her glare to Derek, whose shoulders were shaking, and not because of the weight of the five-year-old perched on them. “You’ve never even met Drew,” she hissed.

Derek kept his gaze straight forward. “I didn’t have to, not with what he did.”

“Can’t argue there,” Stiles chimed in, and Rosalie smacked him on the back of the head.

Derek stopped, and Rosalie thought he was going to apologize. Instead, he crouched down. “Ok, Charlie. Why don’t you walk with Auntie Rose for a while? Uncle Derek’s shoulders hurt.”

Charlotte clambered off of Derek and into the welcoming hand of her aunt. Rosalie couldn’t stay mad at Charlotte. It wasn’t her fault that Rosalie’s brother let things slip. Charlie just mimicked what her father said.

Rosalie didn’t speak the rest of the way. She was too angry with what Derek and her brother had been saying behind her back. (Even though she knew they spoke the truth.)

“Rosalie? Lydia?” came a call from behind the group. Rosalie didn’t have to turn around in her beach chair to know who it was. She shifted the sleeping little girl in her lap slightly so she could sink down in it, ducking her head.

Derek snorted a laugh. “What are you doing?” His stare flickered between Rosalie and Lydia (who was in a similar position in her own chair), green eyes full of amusement.

“I’m invisible. I’m not here. I don’t exist,” Rosalie whispered, eyes scrunched shut and wishing it into reality.

Derek crouched, meeting Rosalie’s line of sight. “Why are we hiding?”

“Shh!” she shushed him with a finger to her lips. “You remember my crazy Aunt Susie?”

“Your dad’s sister? The one who looks like the female version of Donald Trump?”

“Yes. Also known as the family gossip. She will undoubtedly say something shitty about Drew and Ashleigh’s engagement.”

Derek scoffed. “Fuck them.” As an afterthought, he added, “You know what, fuck her too.”

Rosalie swatted him on the forearm. “Children, Derek. There are children present.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say it that loud… and the kid is asleep.”

“Yo Lydia, Rosalie, Derek. I’m back with the contraband.” Stiles weaved between chairs and the standing crowd, arms full of paper drink cups and soft pretzels.

Lydia kicked him in the shin. “Shut up, Stiles.”

Stiles looked amused. “Why are you whispering?”

“Yoo Hoo! Rosalie Anne! Lydia Isabella! You can’t hide from your Aunt Susie!” Rosalie’s aunt yelled, words slurred with her southern drawl, and likely a bit of alcohol.

Stiles’ eyes widened, and he too ducked down. “Forget I asked.”

A slim, bony finger poked Rosalie on her bun-topped head. Aunt Susie shuffled around the chairs to stand in front of the group. With no escape in sight, Rosalie and her friends sighed and straightened themselves up.

“Oh, my,” Aunt Susie chirped, grabbing hold of both Rosalie’s and Lydia’s cheeks. “Look at how much you two have grown!”

Rosalie smiled kindly, as she was taught to do from a young age. She hoped if she obliged in conversation, then Aunt Susie would leave quicker and they could enjoy their night in peace.

Aunt Susie’s smile fell when her eyes swept over Lydia’s boyfriend. “And Steve…nice to see you again.”

Stiles scratched his chin, mumbling, “It’s um…Stiles. Stiles Stilinski.”

But Aunt Susie paid no mind. Her attention was completely on the man that sat to Rosalie’s left. Her eyes scanned him, seemingly sizing him up. Or checking him out. Likely the latter, Rosalie thought, knowing her aunt.

“Well, Rosalie. Who’s this?” she drawled, looking quite like a cat watching its prey.

Derek straightened out and forced a smile. He held out a hand for her to shake. “Derek Hale, ma’am.” Derek’s mother had instilled politeness in her son, even if he didn’t like the person. And Rosalie knew that Derek wasn’t fond of Rosalie’s father’s side of the family.

She took it, shaking too enthusiastically. A sense of recognition washed over her plump face, and her hand stilled. “Derek Hale… little Derek Hale? Why, you’ve grown, too. When was the last time I saw you? Ten years ago?”

Derek smirked, fire in his eyes. Rosalie prepared herself for the inevitable shit talking, already planning damage control. “Actually, it was fourteen years ago. At the second wedding of Jason Martin. When your brother married his mistress and left Rosalie, Levi, and Ms. Hart.”

Stiles snorted noisily, placing a hand over his mouth to cover up his laughter. Lydia cracked a smile, too. Rosalie kicked Derek, hard. Well, as hard as she could with a child still sleeping soundly on her lap.

Aunt Susie’s mouth opened and closed in shock, for once at a loss for words.

Charlotte woke at just the right time, deterring the awkward silence. She stretched and yawned loudly, then sat up in Rosalie’s lap. Her tiara was crooked, and her eye makeup was smudged, but she still looked cute. Rosalie wished she looked that nice after sleeping in her makeup.

“Aunt Susie!” she cried at the sight of her great-aunt, wrapping the woman in a hug. Ah, childhood innocence. Charlie didn’t know what the real world was like, what her extended family was really like, and Rosalie preferred to keep her naivety.

Charlotte easily engaged Aunt Susie in an excitable conversation. Rosalie, eerily conscious of eyes on her, shifted her ring between the fingers of both hands. It was an impulse buy, the vintage sapphire with the white gold band. She’d seen it on display in one of the shop windows and absolutely had to have it, even if it was way more than she’d ever spend on herself.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you on the cruise in a few weeks.” Aunt Susie turned to leave. Her eyes caught something, and she halted, wide-eyed.

“Oh, my stars,” she commented, hands on her heart. “I… I thought after Drew you were a hopeless case, but…”

Rosalie couldn’t comprehend why her aunt was getting choked up. And the ‘hopeless case’ comment stung more than she would have liked.

Sweet, sweet Charlie reached up to dry her great-aunt’s tears. The damage was already done—white tear tracks contrasted starkly with the tangerine of the older woman’s self-tanner. “What’s wrong, Aunt Susie?”

Aunt Susie, so overwhelmed with emotion, didn’t register the little girl’s words. Instead, she grabbed Derek’s hand. It hung limply in hers. Derek looked alarmed. “Oh, Rosalie’s father will be absolutely thrilled to see you… both of his baby girls… first Drew and Ashleigh…”

Aunt Susie shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with the bottom of her red Mickey Mouse t-shirt.

With her resolve back, she straightened. “Well now, please tell me you’re coming on the cruise?”

“I, um…” Derek stuttered, looking to his best friend for help. Rosalie had no idea what was going on either, and just shrugged in response.

“Well, you absolutely must go now! Of course, Lydia and her wild boyfriend are coming--”

Stiles quietly muttered something along the lines of “I may be wild, but at least I’m not one step away from the loony bin, lady.” Rosalie leaned her elbow on the armrest and laughed into her palm.

“--and Rosie, you absolutely have to bring your fiancé,” Aunt Susie pleaded, looking straight at Derek.

Rosalie couldn’t look at him. She froze, stock still, staring in horror at the sapphire ring that had migrated from her right ring finger onto her left. Where an engagement ring would go. And her new piece of jewelry sure as hell looked like an engagement ring.

“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED?!” Charlotte squealed loudly, clasping her hands in glee.

Rosalie was about to deny it, let the little girl down easy, when Charlotte began to cry.

“Char, why are you crying?” Rosalie asked, voice shaking. She couldn’t look anywhere else but at her niece, heart beating heavily in her chest.

“I’m just… I’m so, so, happy,” Charlotte sniffled. “I love you so much, Uncle Derek.” The little girl climbed over Rosalie and hopped into Derek’s lap, engulfing him in a huge hug. Derek didn’t hug her back, but only for a miniscule moment. He shook his head, coming to his senses, and then wrapped his arms around the girl, patting her back stiffly.

“You didn’t tell her?” Aunt Susie asked Rosalie, accusingly. Rosalie looked to her right for help. Stiles and Lydia were silently sharing a soft pretzel, looking just as stunned as Rosalie.

“No… um, we were going to tell Charlotte during the fireworks. Right, Rosie?” Derek mumbled, saving face. Rosalie thanked him silently for his quick wit.

Rosalie’s head whipped in the opposite direction. She met Derek’s apprehensive eyes. It was almost as if he was asking permission, like he actually agreed to go along with this whole charade.

It was the perfect ruse if Rosalie could ever think of one. A month ago, she’d drunkenly RSVP’d with a plus one to the family reunion cruise, as a way to save her pride and spite her family, who likely thought that she’d come alone and pine for her ex.

No way in hell, she’d thought. Even though there was no one in her life that she could even remotely think of to bring as a date. Derek was out of the question, before…

But now…

She subtly raised a brow, wordlessly asking, are you sure?

Derek subtly nodded back, lip quirking in a reassuring half smile.

Rosalie cleared her throat and straightened herself to her tallest seated height. She wasn’t confident at all, so she was going to fake it till she made it. “That’s right. We were going to wait until the fireworks, make it more magical for Charlotte.”

The speakers on the green lamppost next to them announced that the show was starting. Aunt Susie left them all with a wave and a ‘see you soon’.

No one spoke during the show, except for Charlotte, who was oblivious to the mess that she’d inadvertently got them into.

“So, I guess you’re my fiancée now,” Derek joked, lightly shoving Rosalie in the side. She smiled shyly up at her best friend. Amusement shined in his eyes. He wasn’t mad or appalled like Rosalie suspected him to be. Thank God.

“I, um, I guess I am,” Rosalie replied, swinging her now free arms beside her. Stiles had taken over the task of carrying a sleepy Charlotte to the car. He and Lydia trailed behind them, whispering. Likely about Derek and Rosalie’s… predicament.

“Dude, you two are fucked,” Stiles said, appearing suddenly on Rosalie’s left.

“So fucked,” Lydia affirmed after checking to see if Charlotte was still sleeping.

Rosalie couldn’t help but agree.

[lupinlongbottom]

Practically a Weasley pt. 3

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Summary: What could make Charlie’s life more full? He already had a wife he adored, a job he loved and a child who loved him more than the moon and stars. Lunch with his mum isn’t the first idea on his list, that’s for sure. 

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: a couple of swears? but like when isn’t there my dudes

A/N: So like, these are probably like 3 different stories in one, no clear plot. Oops that’s just my brain getting excited at the idea of their child and the Weasley dynamic so idk still cute

Part 1 ... Part 1.5 ... Part 2 ... Epilogue

__

“Charles Septimus Weasley!”

The name echoed through the quaint cottage, volume boasting only what could be rivaled to a howler. Charlie had been anticipating a screech like that all day, quietly enjoying a pot of tea, reading the latest issue of the Quibbler before his wife awoke.

“Yes my flower?” Charlie hummed, eyes not leaving his magazine. The latest headlining story involved a sighting of a new type of mini-dragon, one with invisible wings. They were not lizards, a fact Charlie was sure of.

“I just received an owl,” (Y/N) pointed, hopping down the oak stairs as if it were nothing. “From your brother,” she crossed her arms.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, love. Got quite a few of those,” he took a sip of tea.

“From Bill, the brother who was watching your daughter last night?”

“Oh love, I can’t remember much from last night. Maybe you can jog my memory?” His eyes peeked over the magazine, eyeing his wife up and down. 

“Cheeky,” (Y/N) replied cooly, feeling a slight heat rise to her cheeks. “He said that Kayda had a wonderful time with her cousins, but when it came time to get ready for bed, she didn’t have any pajamas.”

“Oh?”

“You know what she had, though?”

“Not exactly,” he shrugged, flipping the page. “I let her pack her own overnight bag.”

“Did you double check it before you dropped her off?” (Y/N) crossed her arms, all her weight shifting to one side. “You know, considering she’s five?”

“I trust my daughter,” Charlie said, finally setting the magazine down, looking his wife in the eye. “But, to answer your question, it just might have slipped my mind.”

“Funny,” (Y/N) moved over to the table, standing directly over Charlie. “You know, last night, I was wondering why I couldn’t find that little red thing you like,” (Y/N) hummed, tapping her chin. “But Bill made it abundantly clear that Kayda had a very similar ‘night gown’ to wear.”

It took Charlie every ounce of his being to not laugh out loud. “And? You wore the black thing I like even better,” he grinned, pulling his wife onto his lap. “I’m sure Bill was mortified.”

“Charlie, I’m mortified! I don’t need your brother knowing what sorts of intimates I own!” (Y/N) allowed her head to fall into her hands. Charlie wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Flower,” another kiss. “He know’s we fuck. He babysat the evidence last night.”

“Charlie!” (Y/N) slapped his arm, trying to escape her husband’s grip. He tightened his hold. “I’m serious. We have lunch with your mum today! How am I supposed to look anyone in the eye?”  

“Then don’t,” Charlie shrugged, swaying side to side, resting his head on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “Try avoiding your best mates once Bill tells ‘em after he drops Kay off,” Charlie laughed, pressing a kiss to his wife’s neck.

“No,” (Y/N) practically sighed. “Fred and George aren’t going to let me hear the end of it,” Charlie pressed another kiss to her neck, this time sucking lightly on her pulse. “Charlie, we shouldn’t…”

“Funny,” Charlie said, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “You didn’t say that last night. Got out all the candles, busted out the turntable—”

“—we have to leave for The Burrow soon,” she sighed again, leaning into Charlie’s peppering kisses. “I barely have enough time to get ready as it is!”

“Come on, love. You look even more radiant than the day I met you,” He pressed a kiss to her lips, soft and sweet. “We can be quick, considering we took our time last night,” another kiss. “Think of it as an encore presentation.”

(Y/N) laughed, finally releasing herself from her husband’s grip, headed towards the stairs. Charlie focused all too intently as she walked away. “Well?” (Y/N) stood at the end of the stairs, hand on her hip. “You coming?”

__

Charlie and (Y/N) arrived to their planned lunch on time. It only took a quick use of their floo and a careful once over of their appearances to make it to Molly and Arthur’s.

“Charlie! (Y/N)!” Molly exclaimed, practically rushing over to the fireplace to greet her children. With two wet smooches, (Y/N) and Charlie entered the living room. “Oh, Kayda is going to be thrilled that you’ve made it,” Molly said, rubbing Charlie’s cheek. “Sorry, sweetie. Floo powder.”

“Mum…” he hissed, swatting her hand away. “Where is everyone?” Charlie noted, taking a longer look at the living room and kitchen. 

“They’re out playing quidditch, dear,” Molly answered, nodding her head to the back door. “Ginny made time in her busy schedule to be here, so Fred and George have been testing their little sister’s skills.”

“Sounds about right,” (Y/N) laughed, putting a dish on the kitchen table. “Do you have room for a cake, Molly? Charlie and I made one last night,” (Y/N) laughed. “Well, Charlie did most of it, but I added the hundreds and thousands.”

“I’m sure with the lot outside working as hard as they are, they’ll appreciate the treat, it won’t go to waste,” Molly smiled, setting the table. “I think the twins were trying to get little Kay up on a broom, might need her mum’s eye on that.”

(Y/N) groaned. “Peachy. Thanks for the heads up, Molly.”

“(Y/N), hear me out,” Charlie approached, blocking (Y/N) from opening the door to the backyard. “If they let her fall off you take Fred and I’ll take George.”

“Deal.”

The couple walked out to the makeshift quidditch pitch, hand in hand. Only two redheads could be seen flying in the sky, relief leaving their bodies with a deep exhale. 

“Mummy!” A little redhead exclaimed, her chocolate brown eyes meeting (Y/N)’s. She struggled out of Ginny’s lap to run over to her mother, barreling faster than a snitch. Her little arms wrapped tightly around (Y/N)’s legs. “You’re here!”

“I am!” (Y/N) giggled, pulling her daughter up into her arms, kissing her forehead. The softness of her red bangs tickled (Y/N)’s nose.

“Daddy made it too, you know,” Charlie mumbled, fighting back a grin. He pulled his family in for a short hug, enjoying the warmth.

“Hi daddy,” Kayda said, waving to her father lightly, her hand moving in small circles.

“Glad to see you two made it safe,” Ginny laughed, walking over to her brother and his wife. “You just missed Bill.”

“He’s not staying for lunch?” (Y/N) asked. Ginny shook her head. “Amazing,” (Y/N) sighed, setting her daughter down. “He didn’t… share anything about their night last night, did they?”

“No, nothing out of the ordinary,” Ginny hummed, fingers running through her pixie cut. “But Kayda couldn’t stop talking about the dinner that Auntie Phlegm made.”

Kayda’s eyes lit up, a lightning bolt of remembrance hitting her face. “Oh! Mum! Aunt Phlegm made this yummy—”

“Kayda, her name is Aunt Fleur, not Phlegm,” (Y/N) looked at Ginny, who was wearing a proud grin, pride boasting from her chest. “What did Fleur make you?”

“Sorry mum,” Kayda sighed. “Aunt Fleur made dinner with all vegetables! She cut them really, really thin and called it rat-a-patoolie!” 

“Rat-a-patoolie?” Charlie asked.

“You ate vegetables?” (Y/N) asked.

“They were really good, better than your veggies, mum!” Kayda smiled, hands on her hips. “Did you see that I dressed myself?”

“I did,” (Y/N) smiled, noting the bright purple overalls atop of a lime green jumper, not a pair of matching socks in sight. “I heard dad let you pack your clothes.”

“We heard that too,” Fred said, leaning down from his broom, now hovering over his family.

“Bill told us all about it,” George winked, hovering a few meters away from Fred, spinning upside down. “Say, Kay, how were your pajamas?”

“Red!” Kayda exclaimed, jumping lightly.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N), Uncle Billy made sure that she wore something else,” Fred cooed. “Mummy’s ‘fun clothes’ are folded neatly away.”

“You both have seven seconds to fly away,” (Y/N) said, pulling her wand out of her sleeve. “Before I do something I regret.”

“I’d listen to her, blokes,” Charlie laughed. “She nearly had my head this morning.”

“Bet she had more than your head this morning,” George smiled, high fiving Fred. The two laughed in the air, circling menacingly.

“Charlie, Ginny, take Kayda inside,” (Y/N) pushed up her sleeves. Charlie nodded and swooped his daughter right up.

“What’re you going to do from down there?” Fred chided, flying higher on his broom. “Last I checked, little (Y/N) isn’t good in the air.”

“Yeah, as long as we’re up here,” George laughed, holding his arms out. “We’re untouchable!”

(Y/N) stood for a moment. This was true, she was never good on a broom, practically cursed the second she sat upon it. It had been years since she tried again.

“Mum’s going to kill you!” Kayda shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. “You’re just scaredy-cats! Come down and fight her like boys!”

“Kayda,” (Y/N) scoffed. “I would never kill your uncles,” she smiled, patting her head. “Seriously injuring or harming them? Fair game.”

“No fair,” Fred yelled. “Using our favorite niece to taunt us?”

“Low blow, (Y/N),” George added.

“She learned that all on her own,” (Y/N) laughed. “Now, do you want to disappoint your little Kay-Kay?”

“Uncle Fred, Uncle George!” Kayda waved, grinning widely. “I wanna see your new toys!” Charlie whispered in his daughter’s ear. “Please?” she pleaded, now corrected by her father.

“Kayda…” Fred groaned, hanging upside down on his broom. “Stop looking so cute!”

“(Y/N), using children like this should be a criminal offense,” George pointed. “Punishable by an unforgivable curse!”

“Charlie?” (Y/N) turned, giving her husband a knowing look. “Time for the big guns.” Charlie nodded, leaning in to whisper to his daughter one more time. 

“Uncle George and Fred?” Kayda asked, batting her brown eyes. “If you won’t come down to play with me, I’ll make Uncle Percy my favorite uncle.”

“Percy!?” The twins screamed in unison, instantly lowering their brooms and landing on the ground below. 

“Go on, (Y/N),” Fred said, getting on his knees. “Take your best shot! We’ll take anything over your daughter’s threats.”

(Y/N) smiled, walking over to the twins, tapping her wand to the tip of her nose. “Rictusempra,” she mumbled, causing the twins to buckle in complete hysteria. She turned around to her husband, still holding their daughter. “Let’s go see what Molly cooked for lunch, yeah?”

__

“Mummy,” Kayda whimpered, pushing her plate away. “I don’t want any carrots.”

“Darling, you’ll hurt your gran’s feelings if you don’t at least try them,” (Y/N) sighed, patting her daughter’s back. The rest of the family had finished eating over 20 minutes ago, Ginny had already left, the twins were outside. (Y/N) was determined to get Kayda to eat one baby carrot, even if it killed her. 

“You won’t hurt my feelings,” Molly piped up, washing the dishes. “Charlie never cared for carrots either,” she laughed.

“Molly,” (Y/N) hissed. “If she can eat Fleur’s ratatouille, she can eat at least one of your carrots.”

“Let me try,” Charlie said, sitting on the chair next to his daughter, cracking his knuckles exaggeratedly. “Kay, you remember going to go see Harriet, right?” Kayda nodded. Harriet was her favorite to visit at the sanctuary, after Charlie of course. “She didn’t used to be as big as she is now, you know why?”

“Because she grew up?” Kayda asked, looking up at her father.

“Well, yes,” Charlie smiled lightly. “But she grew because she also ate her carrots.” Charlie put his hand atop his daughters, holding it gently.

“Dragons don’t eat carrots, daddy,” Kayda laughed, swatting his hand away. “You said Harriet used to eat spinach too! She can’t eat both!”

(Y/N) laughed. “She’s right, Charlie, Harriet couldn’t possibly have eaten both carrots and spinach,” Charlie gave (Y/N) an exasperated look. She shot back a shit-eating grin.

“Tell you what,” Charlie said, picking up a spare fork. “If you eat a carrot, I’ll eat a carrot,” he held back a gulp. “Then you can go and play with Fred and George all you want, okay?”

“You’ll eat a carrot?” Kayda’s brown eyes grew to the size of saucers. She quickly shoved her fork in her mouth, the orange disappearing behind her lips. A few chews and swallow, she grinned. “Your turn, daddy!”

Charlie sat still. “You ate that fast, Kay,” he laughed nervously, tapping the fork lightly to the plate. “Did you think she’d eat it that fast?” He turned to (Y/N). She laughed.

“She’s your daughter,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Stubborn and determined as all hell.”

“As all hell!” Kayda repeated, grinning wildly.

“Kayda,” Charlie groaned. “What did we say about swearing?”

“That mummy and daddy are allowed to do it, but not me,” Kayda sighed, looking down. Her crestfallen expression quickly flipped. “Eat your carrot, dad!” she exclaimed, changing the subject.

“She’s right,” (Y/N) hummed, leaning behind Charlie, wrapping her arms around his chest, head resting on his shoulder. “You’re avoiding the carrot, dad.”

“(Y/N),” he groaned again, feeling (Y/N)’s lips press against his temple. “Carrots are gross.”

“Stop being a baby,” (Y/N) laughed, her hand guiding his to the plate, stabbing a baby carrot with the fork. “You’re setting a bad example for your daughter,” (Y/N) said, holding his hand, now forcing the carrot closer to his lips. 

“What’s in it for me?” Charlie asked, turning his head away from the fork.

(Y/N) smiled, her lips meeting his for a short peck. “The satisfaction of your daughter’s dreams coming true,” another short kiss.

“Please, daddy?” Kayda pleaded, clasping her hands together. Molly grinned from the sink, enjoying the scene before her.

“You have two beautiful girls asking you to eat a carrot, Charlie. There are worse things.” Molly laughed.

Charlie took a deep breath, finally determined to fulfill his promise. With a bated breath, he put the carrot in his mouth, chewing slowly. All eyes were on him, waiting for his final swallow. “There,” Charlie groaned, slamming the fork down. “Are you all happy?”

“Yeah, I am,” Kayda said, dropping down from her chair. “Gran, can I be excused?” Molly nodded. “I’m going to go play with Uncle Fred and George!” 

“You did it,” (Y/N) laughed, rubbing Charlie’s back. “You ate a carrot without vomiting,” she grabbed Kayda’s plate, finally turning it into the sink.

“And they say love is dead,” Charlie said, wiping his mouth. “I can’t believe Kayda actually ate a carrot. I was almost certain she would throw a fit.”

“You underestimate our daughter, sometimes.” 

“Maybe so,” Charlie groaned. “She just holds such a power over me, (Y/N),” he shook his head. “I better go make sure Fred and George don’t use Kayda as a test subject or something.”

“A doting father never rests,” (Y/N) laughed. 

“You know,” Molly said, turning from the sink. “I never thought I’d see the day where Charlie was under the complete mercy of a little girl,” she laughed, pulling her greying hair out of her bun. “Besides Ginny, of course.”

“Children change people,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Changed me a bit. Kayda gives me more than enough inspiration for new books. I reckon I could pump at least two or three more out just thinking about it.”

“Children?” Molly asked excitedly.

“What?” (Y/N) felt her cheeks heat up, realizing what she had just said. “Oh, Godric no! I reckon one’s enough. I was talking about my books, Molly.”

“You never thought of having another one?” Molly sat at the kitchen table, summoning a pot of tea. “Children are a blessing, you know.”

“Charlie and I never talked about it,” (Y/N) shrugged. “I know Kayda wants a little brother, asked for one last Christmas. But Charlie’s so busy at work, I’m practically locked in my study every hour of the day now that Kay’s at school…”

“Last I remember, you and Charlie didn’t talk about having Kayda,” Molly hummed. “Come to think of it, you didn’t exactly talk about marriage either. You’re a very spontaneous lot, the two of you,” she smiled, sipping from her mug. “I know it’s none of my business, but I would adore another grandchild.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Molly,” (Y/N) said, forcing a small smile. “It’s just, our life is just so perfect the way it is, you know? I have a husband who loves me unconditionally, an angel of a child and a career I love. I’m just afraid—”

“That a new baby is going to ruin it?” (Y/N) nodded her head. “Did I ever tell you about when I had Bill? Arthur and I had the same conversation about having Charlie.”

“You did?”

“Children bring joy, (Y/N). I’m sure you know that with Kayda. I’m sure Charlie knows, too.”

“You seem a bit biased,” (Y/N) smiled.

“I am,” Molly laughed. “I just can’t wait for more grandkids! I’m up to four now, quite the collection.”

“I’ll try talking to Charlie, see where his head is at,” (Y/N) stood up, hearing a loud crash from outside. “Didn’t Fred mention at lunch that they were working on a new dungbomb?” Molly nodded. “I didn’t realize becoming a mother meant I had to babysit my best mates and husband, too,” she sighed, enjoying the jovial laughter Molly sprung from the kitchen as (Y/N) went outside.

The scent was excruciating, swelling into (Y/N)’s senses. The culprits, (Y/N) deduced, were laughing like maniacs. The sweet bell-like sound of her daughter’s laugh was sprinkled into the mess.

“Mummy! Do you smell that?” Kayda laughed, calling from George’s lap, his arm wrapped lovingly around her. “Uncle George farted!”

“Did not!” George said, looking down at his niece. “I thought that was you!” Kayda’s laughter rang out again, shaking her head wordlessly. “Maybe it was Fred?”

“Oi! Maybe it was the dungbomb?” Fred asked, pointing to the exploded fragments a few meters away from the group.

“Can’t even go along with Kay-Kay’s joke? What kind of comedian are you?” George asked, glaring at his twin. “Honestly, I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Where’s Charlie?” (Y/N) asked, realizing that her husband wasn’t around.

“He’s out flying,” George said, thumb pointing to the pitch. “We convinced him to—”

“—blow off some steam while we had some quality time with the greatest product tester,” Fred ruffled Kayda’s bangs, eliciting a grin from the girl.

“What did you say to him, exactly?” (Y/N) asked, knowing full well that Charlie wouldn’t have just left their daughter in the hands of the twins for too long.

“Oh nothing…”

“Just maybe that his quidditch skills are dwindling every second he spends off of a broom…”

“The fact that also his little sister is dominating in the quidditch world and out-shining him as the ‘Weasley star’…”

“Alright,” (Y/N) said, holding her hand up. “I’m going to find my husband, don’t let Kayda eat anything funky, okay?” (Y/N) turned to the pitch, walking away.

“Is a ‘face pickling fudge’ considered funky?” George shouted, ignoring the finger (Y/N) was proudly flashing for him.

(Y/N) looked to the sky, watching Charlie zoom through the various hoops on either end of the field with ease, as if he had been born on a broom. The wind breezed through his hair, blowing it back. Charlie noted his audience, lowering almost instantly.

“No helmet?” (Y/N) laughed, kissing Charlie as he dismounted. 

“Seekers don’t wear helmets, love,” Charlie said, combing through his hair. “Besides, you love the wind-swept look.”

“I do,” (Y/N) hummed, kissing her husband again. “For someone who claims to never fly at work, you were pulling those stunts off pretty easily,” (Y/N) noted, tracing her finger in a loop.

“I didn’t say I never fly,” Charlie said, laughing lightly. “But flying for fun and flying away from an angry dragon are two completely different things, flower.”

“Maybe,” (Y/N) agreed. “Why don’t you fly more around the house? Kayda would love to watch you.”

“You know how you are on a broom, love. The second Kay sees me fly around, she’ll want you to join. I’m just avoiding that disappointment.”

“Disappointment?” 

“When Kayda figures out that her mum’s a wussy,” Charlie beamed, fully expecting the slap to the side he had received. “You know I’m right!” 

“Kayda knows that I’m shit on a broom,” (Y/N) said, crossing her arms. “I know how badly you want to get her on one, but we agreed—”

“Stop talking, (Y/N),” Charlie said, hopping back onto his broom, holding his hand out. “Get on the broom.”

“Are you kidnapping me to make a point?” (Y/N) laughed, pointing an eyebrow upwards at the notion.

“Wouldn’t call it a kidnapping,” Charlie said, offering his hand again. “Don’t you want your child to know you’re not a wussy? If I can eat a carrot for our daughter, you can ride on a broom for her too.”

“I failed flying class at school—”

“I didn’t,” Charlie said, taking his wife’s hand, pulling her up onto the stick. She sat behind him, holding onto his chest tightly. “I’m the one flying this broom, yeah?”

“Charles Weasley if you do any funny tricks, I swear on my own life—”

“What? I can’t hear you!” Charlie shouted, swiftly lifting into the air, pointing to his ear. “The wind!”

“Shut your mouth, Charlie!” (Y/N) screamed, clinging to her husband tighter as the ground below became smaller and smaller. “You can hear me perfectly fine!”

Charlie stopped, floating midair, The Burrow the size of an apple below them. “Love, there’s no need to shout,” he said, turning his head slightly, a grin stretched to his face. “I’m right here.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” (Y/N) said, burrowing her face into Charlie’s red jumper.

“Aim for one of the twins, would you? I overheard them scheming to put different prank supplies for Kayda in her bag before we leave,” he laughed. “Besides, you’re the one who gave me this jumper, I quite like it.”

“I guess it’s not so bad from up here…” (Y/N) said, taking another look at the ground.

“Of course not,” Charlie laughed, causing (Y/N)’s arms to bounce. “You’re with your favorite person, your husband, whom you trust I hope?”

“Kayda’s my favorite person,” (Y/N) said simply. “You’re up there, though."

“I could flip this broom around right now and you have the audacity to say that your daughter is your favorite person?”

“Hey, she’s our daughter. Last I checked it took the two of us to make her,” (Y/N) laughed. “I can be a bit of a narcissist and say that my favorite person is a perfect mix of my other favorite person and myself, right?”

“Perhaps,” Charlie said, flying slowly around the grounds, gently elevating and dipping every so often. “She’s pretty perfect.”

“Do you want another?” (Y/N) blurted, not even realizing what she had said. 

“What?”

“Molly said something after lunch that had me thinking—”

“Yes,” Charlie said simply. “Of course I want another.”

“You better not be pulling on my leg, Charles Weasley.”

“I’m serious,” Charlie laughed. “I know my mum planted that seed in your head—obsessed with her grandchildren, that one—but understand that I’d be open to having another.”

“Open?”

“Like you said, love,” Charlie began to fly closer to The Burrow, watching Kayda jump enthusiastically below. “It takes two,” he shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I would love nothing more than to try day and night—”

“I get the picture,” (Y/N) laughed, her face surely growing pink. “I’m not entirely sure I want another, honestly. We didn’t plan Kayda, but I’m so happy she’s in our lives…”

“So maybe we don’t plan?” Charlie shrugged, turning his head again. “Maybe we just continue our weekly routines—a little less carefully—and accept whatever is to come of it?”

“We’re quite against planning anything, aren’t we?” (Y/N) said, loosening her grip on Charlie, finally growing used to the height.

“Speaking of, we didn’t use any—”

“—this morning? No. No we did not,” (Y/N) laughed. “An oversight.” (Y/N) pressed a soft kiss to the back of Charlie’s shoulder, leaning fully onto his back. A husband who loved her, friends closer than brothers and a child who lit up her waking days? Maybe another wouldn’t hurt.

Right?

__

General Tag List: @maralisa124 , @leighxlover , @hey-its-me-rai , @missihart23 , @biatheintrovert , @chocolaterumble, @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy , @steve-thotgers , @greeneyedthief

Charlie Weasley Tag List: @sungoddessra , @phantom-pheonix , @dccomicnerd-world , @marveltrash99 , @graymountaingal, @storiesbycaroline, @mytinybaguette , @garbdump , @utahjoerdis , @eldritchscreech , @fiiiinewine

want to be added to a tag list? hmu in the replies or ask box with what characters you’d like to be tagged with!

[votederpycausemufins]

oh hey it’s 2 am, here’s a chapter. Hope it’s not too short. i’m gonna sleep

@petrichormeraki​

Mumbo offered to help take off Philza’s house arrest boots, but they found that they were actually quite easy to remove. Since it was the furthest away, they decided going to Techno’s base would be the best to stay out, though there were some complications due to rain and Wilbur not doing well together.

While Mumbo would have loved input from Techno, the piglin hybrid was only around for brief periods of time, trying to mess with the compass that signalled his direction. Still, the hardcore player had good insight into more combat related plans.

Eyes widened when Mumbo placed down the shulker box that held his redstone tools. To try and keep Tommy from taking it, he had to give one of his shulkers that just had wood in it to the young blond. When Tommy tried to hide it in his ender chest, he actually jumped back in surprise. “What the fuck?! Where’d all these diamonds and emeralds come from?! And I’ve got more?!” He pulled out a shulker box from the chest.

“Oh good, you’ve still got all your items from Hermitcraft. That’ll hopefully make things much easier.” Mumbo took his log box back from Tommy now that he had his own. “I’m not sure what all you have, but I’m sure anything will be helpful right now.”

“What the fuck! I have a block of netherite in here?!”

Grian decided he was not actually dead. At least he was pretty sure that wasn’t the case. He had been here for a while and learned a few things. While there was some sort of ground, he could pick up both his legs without falling and just sort of floated there. Waving his arms and legs didn’t seem to help him move. Or maybe it did, he wasn’t sure since everything looked the same. And after trying to do that for quite a while, Grian felt tired.

Feeling tired assured Grian, and he was fairly certain that being dead meant you couldn’t get tired. He couldn’t be sure though. It hadn’t come up in his questions for Wilbur when he was catching up with his family. He was also worried about getting hungry too, but at least that didn’t seem to be a concern.

Grian was trying to think of things to distract himself with. He had already tried just about every idea he came up with for trying to get out with no luck. He had tested gravity a little too much and felt like throwing up when he had tried doing a flip in the air, only for gravity to shift with him instead of staying stationary. Fortunately he could also sit instead of just stand or float.

He had tried checking if he had any items on his person, but other than his clothes, Grian had nothing. That was a shame as his next idea was to try building something so he had something to focus on other than his hands or legs. Staring into the vast white void had become old, quick and disorienting.

So, being unable to do much else, Grian simply closed his eyes and started to imagine a build. He started to mentally work on a nice little cottage, a nearby pen to fill with chickens. Perfect to collect eggs to throw at his friends. Then he started imagining what he could add onto his mansion. Maybe with his family in the picture again, he could add in rooms for each of them. He had already thought of adding a place for Tommy.

When he hopefully saw them next, he would need to ask what they all wanted. It seemed Wilbur’s favorite color was still blue, so a room with blue accents would do well for him. Techno likely wouldn’t have stopped loving yellow and gold seeing as he was a piglin hybrid and all that. But in checking in on his family, he had made a nice wood house, so possibly it could be a much more standard room.

Tommy’s room would likely take after his tower. He had been so proud when he had started building it and the other Hermits voiced their approval. Grian chuckled. He asked how tall it was going to be and Tommy put his hands on his hips and said-

“All the way up to build height! I’ll make sure I can barely see the ground below. I can get all the way to the top and jump off to fly wherever I want without a rocket or anything!”

Grian’s eyes shot open at Tommy’s voice and found the white expanse replaced with a familiar scene. He was back in hermitcraft and standing next to Tommy and himself.

“You sure? It might be cool, but would take a long time to put it all together. I mean, how long did it take to build these floors?”

“Uh…” Tommy rubbed the back of his head. “Okay maybe I won’t go all the way to build height.”

Grian tried walking and found he actually moved around. “Is this… what is this?” He wasn’t quite sure. “I mean, at least it’s better than literally nothing.” He sat down and just watched the scene play out, it going just how he remembered.

Techno came back to the cabin to rest. He had been all over the place and had even pushed himself a little more just to get back, so the first thing he did was crash onto his bed to rest. Philza stopped helping Mumbo to keep watch, but if Mumbo was completely honest, he wouldn’t mind more people showing up if they could help them as well.

Ghostbur had wandered off to who knows where and Tommy was messing with the items he had found in his ender chest, leaving Mumbo working on his own. Without much of an idea on where to look for Grian, currently the idea was to work on prepping. Potions of invisibility and full netherite gear would be good, so the nether was going to be a must. 

Since grinding for TNT was a bit harder with a lack of farms and shops, beds were crafted and slowly filled up chests. Using the room Tommy had dug out beneath the house, Mumbo created a bit of a bunker to put all their prepared gear. He tried not to think of the time he had to help Grian coax a terrified looking Tommy out of one he had created.

Shouts suddenly came from outside and Mumbo quickly left the bunker through the outside exit. He saw Philza confronted by four people, two of which Mumbo recognized, though their attire was different.

“You’re supposed to be under house arrest! You can’t just defy the president like that!”

“Well you didn’t really do much to keep me in there.”

“We’ll make sure that you can’t take the boots off this time.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Please can you listen? You’re my grandpa!”

“And Techno is my son.”

Mumbo walked over, not as cautious with none of the visitors currently wearing armor. “Excuse me, may I ask why you’re here?”

The four people turned to face Mumbo. He frowned at the face that they too also sported magenta eyes. “Who are you?” One of them in a suit that resembled Mumbo’s own spoke.

“Um, the name is Mumbo. I’m a friend of Iskall. I believe at least one of you knows him.” He frowned as none of them, not even Fundy seemed to recognize the name. It seemed it was worse than he thought. “Oh dear, well, I’m sure you have a very good reason for being here, but you really shouldn’t.”

“Are you trying to defend Techno?” One of them spoke. Mumbo didn’t know who they were either. “He destroyed L’Manburg and needs to pay for that.”

The door to the cabin slammed open. “We’ve got more important stuff to do than that!” Tommy shouted and Tubbo was the first to look over.

“T-Tommy?”

“Hey Big T.”

It took a bit of explaining, but the butchers, as they were calling themselves, agreed to help out, mainly at Tommy’s pleading. Mumbo explained more of his plan, which Tommy seemed grateful for. Tubbo kept trying to get their friend’s attention, But Tommy couldn’t look back, refusing to meet their eyes. 

Neither he nor Mumbo knew why everyone’s eyes were like that. Mumbo had assumed that was why no one could remember anything, but if that were the case, then why could Tommy still not recall any of the past few years now that whatever magic - at least, the assumption was the color was due to magic - was gone.

Tubbo seemed to think that Tommy was still upset about the exile even though the blond kept insisting that wasn’t it. So Mumbo tried to reassure Tubbo. “Hey, he’s dealing with the fact that he was living with someone you were coming to attack and that’s why he’s seeing you again, along with knowing he’s lost many memories and learning he’s got a brother trapped by Dream. It’s perfectly fine that he’s feeling a bit put off right now.”

Tubbo reluctantly agreed, Which Mumbo was glad for, allowing them to continue working on their plan. And then that was when Ghostbur walked in.

“Hey Techno. I didn’t know you had any neighbors. Do you think they’ll help?”

Techno, who was still trying to rest a bit, sat up. “What do you mean neighbors?”

“Well there’s a place nearby. Oh, but there’s a sign on it saying no trespassers, especially you, so maybe we can’t talk to them.”

“Wilbur, do you think you could go back there and look around, telling us what you see?” Philza asked his ghost son, who was happy to help as he left again.

Grian had decided he would much rather be dead. This place showed him memories of whatever he started to think of. It had been fine at first, but then one thing led him into a spiral of bad memories. Even though it wasn’t real, right now he was hiding along with his memory copy, trying to hold his breath and not cry too loudly to let Yuki know where he was. The suit his copy was wearing was full of cuts from the girl’s knife and even though he didn’t have any of the injuries, he could remember the pain.

He tried hard to think of something different, something better. He looked around hoping something would give him an idea, but it just made him worry that Yuki could be there. He looked down at his shaking hands and saw the band of metal on them and finally, a new memory, a better one, crossed his mind.

Instead of hiding from a crazed girl, now he was in his mansion, Jrumbot following him around. 

“Please! Please dad I won’t even sell it to you! Just let me show you!”

The memory Grian sighed and looked at his son. “Oh all right. What do you have?”

“Well, Uncle Iskall was telling me some things and made some joke which left me confused, and that’s because you and daddy are my dads.”

“That we are.”

“And apparently dads are supposed to get married?”

“Well, we don’t have to get married. There are some worlds that do that, and your daddy and I do like each other a lot. But we have you, we don’t need to get married.”

“But, well, Iskall told me that people who love each other a lot and get married have rings to show other people that they love each other that much and I want to make sure everyone knows that you’re my dads.”

Grian smiled as the memory Jrumbot gave his memory version a little ring made out of a gold nugget. It was a bit rough, but gold was pliable enough and Jrumbot was a strong robot, so it was okay.

“Alright, well if you made it, I can wear it for you. That means that it doesn’t just show how much I love your daddy, but how much I love you and Grumbot too.”

Grian smiled once more and looked at his own ring. He happily shined it against his sweater before admiring it. It reflected his face back to him and- Grian froze. Magenta eyes looked back up at him instead of his hazel ones.

ooo colors colors colors, what could they mean?

[harryskalechips]

Will we ever be more than friends? Part 3

A/N this is crazy! Here is part 3 that many were asking for! This is a continuation of one the first pieces I wrote on here. Tysm for the support xxx

It’s been four years since Y/N broke her friendship off with Harry. How is she going to react after seeing him at their high school reunion and finding out he’s still in love with her?

Word count 2135

Part 1, Part 2

4 years later...

“Y/N, you made it!” Sarah hugs me as she greets me at the front door. It’s been 4 years since I’ve seen her and truthfully, I wouldn't be here tonight if it wasn’t our little mini high school reunion. I never knew this party was happening well, not until Kacey, my only friend I still talk to from high school reached out and convinced me.

“Your apartment looks lovely!” I smile as she lets me in. I take my jacket off and rest it on one of her hooks as I step further inside.

“Thank you!” Sarah’s eyes light up with excitement as she takes my hand.“ I didn’t invite everyone from our year.,just to let you know! I only invited our friend group.” she rambles while she drags me where most of the people are.

Sarah. I liked her in high school. We had a couple classes together and we did hang out at the mall a couple times but things got awkward when she started dating Harry. After they broke up, she never reached out to me again and that's when I realized she was just using me.

People say high school is the most memorable time of their life but for me, I was traded the wrong deck of cards.

“Y/N!” Kacey stands up from the couch to hug me. I almost fell over from the amount of force she had. “I knew you would come!”

“Well, you did present a good case.” I smirk as Tyler opens a can of smirnoff ice and passes it to me. “Thanks, Ty! You look good.” I pull away from Kacey and hug him. Alice, and Joseph were there too as they greeted me with a hello and sat back down on the couch.

“Okay, we’re missing one more person from our lil friend group.” Sarah pouts and texts someone on her phone. I knew she was talking about Harry but for some reason, I was hoping it was someone else.

“H. Man! Where is that guy?” Joseph takes a handful of chips from the bowl presented in front of us.

“Wait, didn’t you and Harry date?” Alice calls me out as I take a sip from my drink. I just shake my head and lean on Kacey beside me. She knew what happened between us that night but no one else heard a thing.

But it’s simple really, if I were to tell them the story. Harry and I were best friends. I was in love with him and he knew. He continued to string me along for years and that’s when I decided we should stop being friends. I’m not gonna lie though, it was pretty rough to see him during graduation and not even get a picture with him.  

“That’s crazy! Everyone at least had a date with him.” Alice laughs as Joseph puts his arm around her.

“Well, what’s also crazy is that you’re dating me.” Alice kisses him on the cheek. I never expected them to get together. Alice hated him since he was such a class clown. It’s nice to see him more mature and finally dating her though.

“Ah he’s here! I heard he got more cuter!” Sarah puts on a playful face as she hops off the couch to open her door. The rest of our friends cheered for Harry’s entrance while I stayed quiet just looking at Kacey. My heart was beating way too fast and my fingers were gripping my drink a little bit too hard. But as much as I tried to ignore my anxiety, Sarah appeared right in front of us.“Ladies and gentlemen let me announce the heartthrob of our year... Harry Styles!” Alice  and Kacey cheer excitedly as the boys playfully cat whistle. Sarah moves aside, and that’s when my eyes catch his figure.. there he is. He’s finally here.

He’s wearing a simple white button up and black jeans. As he looks up, he has a little smirk on his face as he bows his head to everyone as a playful gesture of appreciation. “Heard everyone’s been looking for me.” He glances at me and looks away. He doesn’t even seem affected that I’m here! He goes around kissing the girls on the cheeks and giving some hugs to the guys. I knew he was purposely ignoring me, since he wanted to greet me last.

“Hey.” He murmurs against my cheek as he leans down to kiss me.

“Hey. Long time no see.” I lean over to give him a hug.

“Are you two seriously going to act like that?” Tyler teases us. “You guys were best friends for 10 years!” Sarah laughs at Tyler’s joke as she comes with pizza in her arms.

“Kace, can you clear the table?” She asks politely as she puts the pizza down. “Wow, I haven’t seen you guys in 4 years. Time passes by so quickly.”

“I know right!” Alice cheers excitedly. “Now, we’re all about to graduate university!”

~

The night went by in a breeze. After dinner, we played some board games and caught up with each other. Now it was only Harry and I left to share what we’ve been up to.

“I’ve been good. I don’t think there’s anything new with me.” Harry casually laughs as he sits across from me beside Tyler.

“Come on man! Look at what you’re wearing! You’re a new guy!” Tyler elbows him which makes Harry look up at me. Fuck, he just caught me staring.

“I’ve been working at my dad’s company that’s all. Trust me nothing new!”

“No new girlfriend?” Sarah teases him. He just shakes his head and takes a sip from his bottle of beer. “What? No, come on you aren’t fooling anyone here!” Sarah tries to pull the truth out of him. It seemed to me she was a little bit too interested in what he had to say which made me just roll my eyes.

“I dated a few girls but no nothing serious.” Tyler cheers him on as he puts his arm around him and smiles.

“See! Too young to settle down!” Kacey just laughs while Joseph shakes his head.

“Tyler, you just haven’t been in love yet!” He tries to reason. “Harry, you probably haven’t been in love too huh?”

“Oh, no I have been.”

“What!” Tyler chokes as Joseph louds out loud. Alice and Sarah are shocked while Kacey and I just smile at their reaction and quietly listen.

“Who was it?” Tyler questions. “Some girl from your uni?”

“No, she went to high school with us.” Harry avoids my eye contact and laughs at Tyler’s curiosity.

“That better not be me, Styles.” Sarah takes another slice of our leftover pizza. Kacey looks at me while I just look down. Why does everything have to be so weird?

“I bet it’s Y/N. Remember how they would cuddle all the time!” Alice speaks out as if she just solved the puzzle. Which she did. Everyone looks at me which makes my little invisible bubble pop.

“No, it’s not me.” I shake my head. I don’t wanna think of it. I don’t want to think of this.

For the rest of the night, the guys try to make Harry tell the truth but he keeps his mouth shut. I tried to have fun despite all the attention on him but, now that our hangout is over, it’s time to go home.

“I’ll see you guys four years from now!” I joke as I put on my jacket.

“Y/N seriously, keep in touch. We miss you.” Alice hugs me.

“I miss you guys too. It’s nice catching up with you guys.” I genuinely reply back. Although I stopped talking to everyone here, I do miss them. It's nostalgic.

“How are you getting home?” Joseph asks me as he puts on his jacket too.

“Just taking an uber, my car’s in the shop.”

“I can ask Josh to drop you off?” Kacey suggests but I rather be on my own than let her fiancé go out of his way for me.

“I can drive you home.” Harry opens the front door.

“No, guys it’s okay.” I try to brush them off but Harry softly grabs my hand as he bids everyone goodbye.

“Okay, Y/N and I are going to go, goodnight guys!” He waves at our friends as he pulls me to his car. I give everyone a confused look and let Harry pull me away.

“Harry, you don’t have to drop me off.” I try to convince him but he doesn’t let my hand go until he opens my door and helps me into his car. I finally give up and put my seatbelt on as he gets into his seat too.

“Where do you live?” He asks as he zooms out of Sarah’s driveway.

“In Richmond.”

“Can you put the address on my GPS?” He turns it on and points it at me. It was weird between us. There’s this big elephant between us but we’re acting like we’re over it. I just nod my head and do it.

As we drive to my place, I just watch the street lights pass by and listen to his music. Harry seemed like something was bothering him since he kept his jaw clenched. “You okay?” I try to ask him.

“Fine. What about you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Look Y/N...I’ve just been thinking and I’m wondering when we get to your place... could we maybe I don’t know...talk?”

“About us?” There was no point of acting oblivious to this. What happened between us years ago still plays in my mind.  

“Yeah.” He stutters as he looks at me.

~

“Lovely townhouse you got here.” He walks in with me as I open my door.

“Thanks, I got a few roommates but they’re probably in bed. Um, You can sit in the living room.” I gesture him to the room as I take my jacket off. “Would you like some tea?”

“No, thanks.” He sits down while I sit next to him.

“Okay, let’s talk. What’s up?” “How have you been?”

“Good, what about you?”

“Thanks. I’ve been doing well too. Are you um...seeing anyone?” He asks out of the blue. “It’s just everyone spoke up about their love lives and you didn’t really say anything.” I awkwardly laugh at his question. I mean I’m not surprised he asked out of the blue. We used to be so close.  

“No, I broke up with my boyfriend a couple months ago.”

“Long term?” “Yeah, we dated for 2 years.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about that.” He just shakes his head while I laugh at his awkwardness.

“Harry, it’s fine. It’s nice to see you through and catch up.”

“Y/N I have- I have to tell you something.”

“Okay.” I try to brace myself. I may have known him for years but I have no idea what he’s going to say.

“I miss you.”

“Harry.”

“Please, Y/N. Just give me another chance.” He turns towards me. “I’ve been trying to talk to you after our fight but you just completely cut me off.”

“You used me!” I exclaim.

“You don’t understand. I didn’t want to lose you!” He rubs his face in stress. “And I did. I did lose you!”

“Why do you even still want me? It’s been four years Harry maybe, it’s better if we just let the past go.” I stand up and try to walk away but Harry grabs my hands and keeps me in between his legs.

“You don’t mean that, Y/N.” his sad eyes look at me. “I miss you. Didn’t you miss me too?” he whispers as he tries to shake my hands. He was desperate for me to say the words he missed coming from my mouth. “Of course I did!”

“I don’t care if you don’t love me anymore or if you don’t want to be best friends. I just need you in my life again.”

“I’m scared to be you again.”

“I love you.” He leans down and rests his head on my stomach as he tries to pull me in closer. My hands fall into his hair and play with the curly strands just like I used to high school. “I was stupid and immature in high school but I’m ready to be the man you deserve. I just want you with me again.” “I love you Harry.” I pull his face up and lean down to kiss him. His hands urgently grasps my face as he helps me straddle him on the couch.

“I always knew we were going to be more than friends, baby.” He whispers to me as he pulls away and smiles at me.

[anestheticrage]

Be me: Japanese honor student🎓, 15, with half a brain and even less of a plan. Hunting bitches by day and witches by night. Livin that dank only child✌️ life while mom n dad yeet all over the globe, leavin me plenty of time to forget not to make 2 lunches for myself #quirky 😜

no time for socialization or basic electronics skills ???📱??? when your best friends are an alien demon rabbit🐰👽 and the inexplicable Hole ™ in your brain. lmao, btw did i mention im ✨M✨A✨G✨I✨C✨A✨L✨

dreamin bout my 2D waifus again when familiar pink haired cancer patient dances through my brain passin out fliers: Kamihama Meguca Dating Service: Sponsored by Cult of the Magius. 250 stones per session 🤔

seems legit, Mr. Moneybags. wasn't spending my unwieldy sack of gemstones on anything else anyway. lets pull 💎💎💎

first up we have Redhead Radagast and her plethora of plants. 🌿☺️🦎

anndd, nearly dies immediately. 

well not off to a great start but i guess shes pretty cute at lea- oh FUCK its her girlfriend, Tsundere Poseidon😒🔱💦, and their exasperated, straight and single Sword Mom 😔🗡️🔥. fml gonna have to save up for the next pull. might as well play a few rounds with what i got tho. 

get in some good girl talk about things like school, color coded hair styles, body count, permanent soul damage, and our personal demon pacts. ya know, the usual 😚 . realize my dark backstory seems to be missing, so the girls take me to Ketchup Queen Sappho 🍅🥧 (wtf?) to molest my glowy egg stone. whatevs, more action than ive had since Kuroe 🖤 got added to the story anyway

the gang agrees it's time to hunt down the cutest rabbit pimp 🕶️🐇💵 in the city. >> say 🎵mukyuuu🎵 one more time and ill hug you so hard my backstory will pop right out, you adorable fluffy bastard. plz be my new best friend 💕

Form brand new friendship pact with Kyubae, and remember that my lil Sis 🐥 was always the best wingman for pickin up magic chicks, and kept her side of the room so spotless i forgot she existed. whoops 乁༼☯‿☯✿༽ㄏ Maybe if I find her i can stop paying these exorbitant pull fees.📵💎

speaking of which: hot damn this week's featured bachelorette is a 19 year old model and magical detective🔎 with massive levels of PTSD and self loathing 🥵💙💦 more likely to stab you or dramatically jump off a rooftoop than utter a single positive comment. wow, maybe i really COULD find true love…

... if i had MORE THAN A 1% FUCKING DRAW CHANCE. 😡 smh

hard to make much progress finding sis or winning the broken heart of a hard boiled detective amidst the never ending lover's quarrel of the Trident Vine Lesbians. 💔 Sword Mom tells them if they don't behave a monster will take them away. LOL classic mom 🤣

>>>HOLY FUCK IT DID

declare all-out war on urban legends, starting with staircases ⚔️ to reunite the dysfunctional trio, and hope that I net a way better lineup with the next 10x pull. at least sad sleuth lady came to help out. they say combat is the best way to bond wi-   and there she goes off the rooftop again 🙄 fml

alright that got way off track, we need a fresh start, away from all the loli drama. how bout a little B&E🔓🔨🤷🏻‍♀️ at the local house of worship to clear my head. ahh nothing like the unanswered prayers of the masses to get you in the mood for another wasted pull, and the 🔥 MIGHTIEST 🔥 headache you could ask for with a side of Double Cooked Pork 🐖🍜 (meh 5/10🧾)

venture forth into the spiritual unknown with your new human flamethrower🔥🌻🧡 and ask your favorite private eye to please, for the love of Eve, trade Meguca accounts with me~~~ Head through the eastern spirit portal to meet up with hologram propaganda sis and detective crush's evil ex, who joined a dating-app cult (#fuck) and also turned into the moon?🌕?(that's rough buddy)

get ambushed by Acid Horse on Wheels 🌈🐴 and vomit up my soul so hard that its time for a crossover episode. T U R F F F   W A R R R *que operatic harmonies* 💛 Blondie with the hair drills and enough attitude and guns to fill up a noble phantasm tries to ban my account permanently, but PI heartthrob denies her admin privileges. aww babe i didn't know you cared. 😭♥️

get kidnapped by my new true love and go back to her place 😏  defs enough empty rooms to house five emotionally traumatized girls and at least two ghosts hehehe👻 XD 💚🃏💜🎸 decide to form the anti-gossip brigade and recruit my blazing sunflower after getting ambushed by the witch living in my fruit loops🥣

❌outvoted 2:1 that cults are bad. mf. fiinneee one last pull to round out the team and then I'll delete the app. cmonnn Karin 🎃~

OH HELL YEAH TWO FOR ONE.

Always wanted a daughter 💜🔨🐄 with a penchant for pissing off the local Martial Arts & Books Club and drinking suspicious liquids offered by total strangers. Well if it's good enough for her AND the sexy mayadere with enough game to seduce a mermaid, might as well get in on that myself. 

#curseddrank 🤢 0/24 would not recommend to a friend, 'cept maybe Ria

win alot of cash 🤑, blow up a fountain, meet the pied piper²🎶🖕, moon cult, monochrome feathers, something about liberation✊🏻; adopt temper tantrum cow girl. aces 💜🥩

Next up!!! skydiving with DJ Hammer! Jump to apparently-not-certain death after suicidal A.I. 💚💾🗼 tells you to rescue her hostage before they run out of Radiohead albums and have to move on to Thom Yorke's solo discography. save the invisible shield kitten 💚👑😿 from happiness and get chased through the internet by the sexiest homicidal Paint Pallette 💚🎨😈 since Caravaggio. (apparently green is the color of the digital apocalypse. i’m deleting Kako from my friend's list)

that’s it, fuck this app. 250 stones 💎 per-life-threatening-experience is more than i’m willing to deal with 😓 don’t wanna mess with the perfect nuclear family anyway. we've already got: 

✔️the two emotionally traumatized moms with memory and commitment issues

✔️the adhd daughter with anger management problems and a giant hammer

✔️the psychologically abused scizophrenic cat

✔️and the eccentric aunt with crippling anxiety

#squadgoals

now that were done hoarding bitches, its time to hunt the witches. and the bitches makin the witches. btw did i mention the witches ARE the bitches! AND WERE ALL GOING TO DIE!? 📽️⁉️💀 wait fuck lets back up a second

This is Nemo📕 and Token🧪 and they have all the answers but prefer if you only ask vague questions in exchange for vague responses so they can fill in the rest by discussing their superior intellect 🧠 at length. not to mention they built that dating app, so of course everyone in my harem decides to be a FUCKING. TRAITOR.🤬

cept waifu prime ofc 🥰💙. [PTSD > brainwashing] 'yOu CaN bE tHe LeAdEr NoW'. i have been from the very beginning you traumatized Hinedere nightmare. maybe if you weren't so caught up collecting surrogate daughters you would've noticed IM👏THE👏ONLY👏 ONE👏PROGRESSING👏THE FUCKING👏PLOT✨

rescue the rest of dysfunctional found-family™ from selves before my adorable firebender burns down Disnihama🎡🔥😱 during her weekly anxiety attack. (love the makeover T B H) 

CHAPTER 8: Magical Girl Massacre🩸🗡️

   - everyone has like, the shittiest day ever

   - the new Pope really needs to be extradited from the church

   - make friends with a really pretty tree 🌺🌲✨

i swear, if i don't finish this god damn story in time to get that free pull im gonna beat the shit out of every mirror i find in that giant mansion that i haven't even had any time to even mention yet. 🖕🏚️ let alone EVERYTHING happening with the prequel [fuck you, I'm the star] girls 💗💜💙💛❤️️ and their multidimensional melodrama. We don't need that many repetitive af episodes to emphasize that Homo-ra is a shitty person. we've all seen Rebellion. 🙄

NO, I DONT CARE IF YOU WANT SAPPHO'S BACKSTORY, I ONLY HAVE 79 STONES LEFT AND IF YACHAN FINDS OUT I HAVEN'T DELETED THE APP YET IM GONNA HAVE TO GO SLEEP IN WITH SANA 😭💎💸😠

uhhhggggg where were we… Topple a cult and burn down Hotel Denoument only to realize that Sis was fused with the dating app servers this entire madokafuckin time (told ya she was the best wingman 😊). 

Dilemma: Sis =🥚, Triumvirate of Trouble want 🐣. What do? vote now:

Help Hatch - IIIIIII

Not Do That - IIIII

What The Actual Fuck Is Going On - IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Lets just fight everyone until something good happens.

🔥🔫🔥🗡️🔥😱🔥🌆🔥😱🔥🛡️🔥💣🔥

Kill (???) the artist-in-chief of the italian reindeer murder police after teaching her the true meaning of Christmas 🎄 hatch 🐣lil Sis and realize she WAS your wingman all along🐰 MUKYUUUU! we're just gonna ignore how much trouble it would have saved if you'd just mentioned that. "yOu DiDnT aSk..." 

FUCK YOU SPACE BITCH. ONCE AN INCUBATOR ALWAYS AN INCUBATOR 🖕🐇🔪

anywho, somewhere along the lines we of course summoned the Antichrist ⚙️ because why not raise the stakes to max and still not kill off a single character. Madofuckinkami, can we PLEASE wrap this up. 😩💤

feathers (not the culty kind, tfm) rain from the sky, and the power of friendship and not having the Urobutcher 🔪🩸as a lead writer saves our peacefully sectioned off alternate reality 😇

TL:DR fuck cults, real life waifus DO exist, don't sell your soul to space rabbits, or your stones to megacorporations. Enjoy arc 2 on the JP server with your shitty translation patch you filthy fuckin weebs 

Yours Truly, 

- Thirsty Weeb Eroha 💗💎😘 

[it-fits-i-ships]

I took inspiration from a post by @the-stove-is-on-fire and wrote this oneshot (below the read more link) about an AU in which Spideypool adopts Danny and Jazz Fenton and the sheer chaotic energy of Danny and Wade’s dynamic threatens to drive Peter insane. Just in time for Trans Day Of Visibility too!

Danny Fenton sat next to Great Aunt May on one of the plush blue couches in the living room. Wade, who sat on the far side of the couch, had wanted to get leather seating but Peter, who sat between Wade and Danny, had insisted on inventing a new stain-proof fabric because Wade couldn’t be trusted not to make a mess. On the other couch were Jazz, Grandma Pepper, Aunt Morgan, and Grandpa Tony, who was lifting a wrapped box toward Danny.

“Happy birthday, kiddo!” he said.

“Thanks, Grandpa!” Danny said, eagerly ripping open the paper to see what treasures lay within, “Oh awesome! I’ve been wanting to play this game forever! I didn’t even think it was out yet!”

“It’s not,” Grandpa Tony said, “I pulled some strings.”

“You’re the best!”

“There’s one more thing,” Grandpa Tony said, pointing toward the box.

Danny dug further into the tissue paper.

“A key?” Danny asked.

“It’s a key to your birthparents’ house,” Grandpa Tony said, “They were good friends of mine and when they died I bought their house and maintain it so you and Jazz could go there when you were old enough,” he paused and looked around at Peter, Wade, and Jazz, “I already talked it over with your dads and Jazz and we figure since you’re 14 now it’s time to give you the option to go there.”

He looked between Grandpa Tony and his dads, then at Jazz.

“Have you gone there yet?” Danny asked.

“No, I wanted to wait until we could go together,” she said.

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

Peter placed a hand gently on Danny’s shoulder.

“Of course, son, take all the time you need,” he said.

That night, after the party was over and the guests had gone home, Danny lay staring up at the ceiling. His thoughts raced around in his skull like the spinning blades of his ceiling fan so that just when he thought he had caught one long enough to get a good look at it he would find it had flown from his grasp. Of course Danny had known he and Jazz were adopted. Peter and Wade had been very upfront about that. They had also made sure Jazz and Danny knew they were loved and wanted. Danny would be lying if he said he had never been curious about his birth parents. He didn’t know or remember much about them, and some part of him had always wondered where he’d come from, but Peter and Wade had been so good to them he never really felt like he had been lacking for anything.

When Danny was 10 he came out as trans and they had immediately put him on puberty blockers, switched to his new name and pronouns, and gotten him a haircut. Peter and Wade had never cared about clothing so even when Danny was young they had let him pick out “boy” clothes, which meant he didn’t have to get a new wardrobe when he came out. Jazz and their dads had Danny’s back during his social transition, correcting people when they used the wrong name or pronouns and defending him when people tried to tell him he was just going through a phase. Danny really couldn’t have asked for a better upbringing. So do I really need to know more about my birth parents? He thought.

Just then, he heard a soft knock at his door. He turned to see Jazz standing in the hall outside his room.

“Hey,” she said, “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he said, sitting up against his pillows.

“How are you doing?”

“Just trying to process.”

“I get that,” Jazz said, “It took me a while to wrap my head around the fact that our birth parents’ house is still intact, that we can actually go there and find out about them.”

“Do you remember them?” Danny asked.

“Not much,” she said, “I was only 4 when they died. I think they wore jumpsuits a lot?”

“Jumpsuits?”

Jazz shrugged.

“It was 12 years ago, I could be misremembering.”

“I don’t know if I want to go, Jazz,” Danny admitted, “Part of me wants to find out more about them but we already have parents, you know?”

Jazz sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Listen, Danny,” she said, “I’m not going to tell you what to do or how to feel. If you decide you don’t want to go to the house I’m not going to make you, and neither are Peter or Wade. This is your call. I want to go eventually and if you want to go then we’ll go together but if you don’t that’s okay too. I can always go with Peter or Grandpa Tony,” she paused and pulled him into a big hug, “Take some time to think it over so you make the right choice for you and then let me know what you decide when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Jazz,” Danny said, leaning in return his sister’s hug.

“Any time,” she said, standing up, “I’m going to bed. Make sure you get some rest too, birthday boy.”

Danny nodded absentmindedly.

“Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight!”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Danny stood, key in hand, in front of a house that simultaneously felt vaguely familiar and vastly alien to him. There was a large bunch of tech on top of the house that looked like some kind of UFO and a huge light-up sign that read “Fenton Works.” Who the hell were these people? Danny thought. After a few agonizing weeks he had decided to come learn what he could about his birth parents and Peter had agreed to drive them to the old Fenton residence. He didn’t break his gaze from the house as he felt Jazz take his free hand in hers.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said, stepping up to put the key in the door.

The three of them walked into the living room, which Danny immediately noticed had purple walls. On the far wall was an opening to a bright green kitchen.

“Wow,” Jazz said, “They had some, uh, interesting tastes in interior design.”

“What until you see the lab in the basement,” Peter said.

“The WHAT?!” Danny and Jazz said in unison.

“Why is everyone in our lives some kind of scientist or science experiment?” Jazz asked.

“Or both, in Grandpa Tony’s case,” Danny added.

Peter shrugged.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“What did they even do here?” Danny asked.

“They were inventors. They used their tech to hunt ghosts,” Peter said.

“Ghosts?” Jazz said incredulously, “Really?”

Peter nodded.

“So they were crazy,” she said.

“They preferred to be called ‘misunderstood geniuses.’”

“Sure, geniuses on a mission to catch Casper.”

“Jazz,” Danny interjected, “Our dads have super powers, Wade is constantly breaking the laws of physics, Grandpa Tony has personally met aliens and deities, and you’re hung up on ghosts?”

Jazz raised her finger and opened her mouth as if to counter his argument but then, seeming to think better of it, she lowered her hand and closed her mouth as an annoyed look overtook her face.

“Let’s look around some more,” she said.

“Can I go down to the lab?” Danny asked.

“I want to look up here first,” Jazz said.

“Can I go look around by myself, Dad?” Danny asked, turning on his saddest puppy eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Peter said, “Just be careful. Don’t touch anything and put on one of the jumpsuits so you don’t accidentally get anything on your clothes.”

“Awesome!” Danny said, already searching for the staircase to the basement.

He quickly found it, descended into the drab gray laboratory, and slipped into one of the jumpsuits hanging on the wall as per Peter’s request. The lab was lined with consoles that had glowing panels and various buttons and switches, counters and tables covered with all kinds of lab equipment from microscopes to complicated networks of flasks and tubes, and a very cluttered work desk covered in noted, equations, and diagrams but the thing that really caught Danny’s attention was the massive metal archway on the far side of the room. It sat open and he squinted to try and make out what was inside. It appeared to be the entrance to some sort of tunnel. Couldn’t hurt to take a closer look, he thought.

Carefully, Danny crept into the dark tunnel. He could hardly see anything in the dim light. What the hell is this thing? He thought as he walked distractedly forward with his hands out in front of him. Before he could contemplate the structure further, his outstretched hand ran right into something small and round. The thing gave a click, a pit forming in Danny’s stomach as the tunnel lit up like the 4th of July with swirling green shapes he couldn’t identify. The light seemed to pass right through him and he felt as much as heard the scream that ripped from his chest as every atom of his being burned.

The next thing he knew he was on the floor outside the tunnel. He awoke to someone shaking him by the shoulders.

“Danny!” Jazz cried frantically, “Danny, please get up!”

He sat up slowly and clutched his aching head with a groan, only to give another when Jazz threw her arms tightly around him and forced the air out of his lungs.

“I thought you were dead,” she said.

“What happened?” Danny managed.

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Peter said, “But you might want to look in a mirror.”

“What?”

Peter and Jazz hoisted Danny up so he could see his reflection on the shiny glass screen of a large monitor on the wall. Oh shit. His hair had turned a stark white and his once blue eyes were glowing the same radioactive green that had filled the tunnel before he had lost consciousness. What the fuck? He thought, his panic rising exponentially as he leaned on the monitor with one hand to get a better look at himself. Suddenly, he was falling forward and his face smacked into the glass.

“Danny!” Jazz called.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, reaching out to steady his son.

“I think s–”

His train of thought was completely derailed by the sight of his forearm, or lack thereof. He wiggled his fingers and clinched his fist. He could still feel his hand. Is my arm…invisible? He thought.

“Danny,” Peter said gently, “I think your panicking is making things worse. Look right at me,” he paused as he oriented Danny’s shoulders so they were facing each other, “And a take a deep, slow breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth,” he paused to demonstrate the technique and waited for Danny to copy him, “Good, one more time,” he paused for Danny’s breath, “Remember when you were 5 and Aunt May asked you to help her pick a puppy?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Danny said, torquing his eyebrows in confusion.

“There were so many,” Peter continued, “How did you know you picked the right one?”

“Donut was the only one who came up to give both of us kisses,” Danny said, “And he fell asleep in my lap. I thought he seemed like a good dog for Aunt May.”

As Danny thought back to that childhood memory he felt a strange tingling all over his body, like everything was shifting ever so slightly. He looked down and he could see his arm again. He snapped his head up to look back into the glass monitor, where his reflection showed his natural black hair and blue eyes.

“I’m back to normal!” he said, “How did you know that would work, Dad?”

“I freaked out really hard when I first got my powers. I ended up stuck to a wall with no idea how to get down. It wasn’t until I took a second to calm down that I was able to unstick myself. I figured it might be something similar with whatever that was,” Peter said.

“Do you think that’ll happen again?” Danny asked.

“Probably,” Peter admitted, “But for now I think we’ve all had enough excitement and we should head home. I’ll bring you kids back here later if you want,” he paused and looked directly at Danny, “With thorough supervision, of course.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Danny held his head in his hands, quite literally. He had finally mastered the trick where he could stretch an invisible bit of his body from his neck to the base of his head so it looked like his head was no longer attached. His two years of training had really paid off. Peter and Wade, and even Jazz, had helped him master his powers but he had been cooking this one up in secret for the express purpose of ghostly shenanigans. Jazz was away at college and Peter was still out for the day. Which means my first victim is –

“Hey, Danny,” Wade’s voice came around the corner as he approached the living room, “Did you eat the last pudding cup?”

“Maybe.”

“Bruh! I totally called dibs on that o–” Wade paused, taking in the scene before him, “Danny, what the fuck happened to your head?! Ugh! Peter’s gonna kill me!” he added.

Danny stuck out his tongue.

“I’m fine, just a little,” here he paused to toss his head into the air, “Lightheaded!”

“You little shit, that was beautiful!” Wade said, pulling a small throwing knife seemingly out of nowhere and chucking it at Danny.

“Dad, what the hell?”

“I’m not ‘Dad,’ I’m Deadpool! I’m here to eat pudding and throw knives,” he paused, lowering his voice, “And I’m all out of pudding.”

He threw a barrage of knives at Danny, who nimbly dodged the projectiles and lobbed a pillow from the couch right at Wade’s face. Each knife lodged itself into a different part of the couch as Danny fired off multiple blasts of ghost fire.

“Hey, Siri, play the Ghost Busters theme. I’m going hunting,” Wade said, brandishing the pillow and another knife at Danny.

Just then, they heard the front door open.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” came Peter’s voice, “There was a thing I had to take care of on the way home –”

He froze at the sight of his husband and son sparring in the living room, his handful of groceries seemingly forgotten.

“Danny started it!” Wade said quickly.

“Deadpool, you fucking snitch!” Danny called, pointing an accusatory finger at Wade.

“Language!” Peter said.

“Yeah, Danny, watch your fucking language,” Wade said, giggling under his breath.

“Wade!”

“What?”

Peter sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a circular motion.

“All right,” he said quietly to himself, “So the new couches need to be stain-proof, knife-proof, and fire-proof. You two are in charge of putting the groceries away.”

“Did you get more pudding cups?” Wade asked hopefully.

Peter looked him dead in the eyes as he extracted two packages of pudding cups from one of the bags and tucked them under his arm.

“No,” he said, “Now go put this stuff away and clean up this mess,” he added, gesturing toward the living room.

He turned and headed, pudding still in tow, to his study.

Wade wiped away a single tear as the pudding vanished from sight.

“Oof,” said Danny.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Super Ivar  (Modern!Dad!Ivar x reader)

A/N: Well... Once again, thank you for helping me, @inforapound, you’re the best beta reader 💖

Summary: Ivar doesn’t want to attend the school year-end show of his daughter. And you know why... 

Warnings: Ivar’s insecurities; grumpy Ivar, but mostly fluff. A lot of fluff (too  much fluff?)

Words: 1916

"I should have stayed home."

You take a quick look at Ivar before focusing on the road again. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not."

Your husband's tone is surprisingly calm, while you're already seething.

"Ivar, we've already talked about this!" Upset, you don't even try to hide it.

"You've already talked about this, Y/N. You're the one who decided I should come. I never had a say." He speaks patronizingly, almost as if he was lecturing you. "But you don't think about the possible consequences. What if that babysitter you hired doesn't know how to take care of Bodil properly? I should have stayed with him."

The light is red, allowing you to look at him. "You can't be serious, can you?!"

He looks away and you feel like you're about to explode. "Ivar, look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Turning to you, he glares harshly.

"Agneta is not just a babysitter, Ivar, and you know it. She's a forty-two-year-old pediatric nurse whom we're paying a fortune every time we want to go out. She was already the one who took care of Inger when she was just a baby. There was never any problem. She's probably more qualified than us to take care of our children."

Fussing next to you, Ivar growls. "Bodil is not Inger, Y/N. Inger was always content, always happy. Just think, what will happen if the babysitter wants him to eat something he doesn't like? He's going to go to bed hungry."

Starting the car again, you take several deep breaths. "Ivar, stop so negative. You know very well that I prepared Bodil's meal before we left. And your son is perfectly capable to make himself understood."

"He's a baby!"

"A two-year-old baby, Ivar!!!" Losing patience, you nearly scream.

"Not yet! And anyway, he's too young to stay with a stranger."

"Ivar, that's enough! He'll be two years old in three weeks. Do you want me to take you home? Okay. I'll do it, I promise. We're just going to go to Inger's school, I'll pick her up and then let you explain to your ten-year-old daughter why you don't want to attend her school year-end show, okay?”

You park the car before opening the door. "Look, we're already there. I'll be back with her in two minutes, you talk to her and I'll take you home. Okay?" Your venomous tone makes him shiver.  

Grabbing your hand, Ivar speaks to you softly, lowering his head. "No, Y/N." A sharp intake of breath. "No, I can't do that."

"No, you can't, indeed. That's why you're coming with me. And please stop using Bodil as an excuse. We both know, very well, why you're reluctant to go in there. And it's not because of our son."

Ivar seems offended. "Of course it is!"

"Ivar, stop it! Be honest. You're talking to me, your wife of twelve years, remember? It's the same old story every year."

Sighing, he pouts before shrugging. "Tell me the truth, who wants to see a show called 'Superheroes at School'?"

"I do."

"Yes, you do. But you're an angel, while I'm an idiot with no patience at all. An idiot who can't get thrilled about a handful of kids singing out of tune or sputtering their text."

The faint smile in the corner of his mouth is enough for you to melt.

"And…," you add, urging Ivar to continue.

"And what?" He frowns, pretending not to understand.

"And admit you don't want to thank the teacher for her work over the past year, just like you don't want to shake hands with other parents."

"You know me too well. But damn it, Y/N, it's always the same old thing, over and over again. The farewell drink – two chips and commercial fruit juice – will take place in the schoolyard. There won't be a single chair, my legs will hurt…,” he winces, "everyone will watch me drag myself on my crutches like I'm a freak and on top of that I'll have to endure mindless conversation. Appealing, no?"

Your heart is tightening. He's not entirely wrong.

Speaking gently, you put one hand on his cheek in a tender and soothing gesture. "You'll do it for Inger, okay?"

Bringing your hand to his mouth, he kisses it. "Yes, for our little princess."

***

"Tell me again, why the superheroes?" Leaning towards you, Ivar whispers as the short play featuring Batman, Superman, and Catwoman at the age of ten has just ended.

You sigh. "Ivar, because that's the theme the teacher has been working on all year. You should know, Inger told us enough about that. She even said it was Spiderman who taught her long divisions."

Infuriated, Ivar rolls his eyes. "Nonsense! I taught her that. And she was six!"

You're about to tell him he's exaggerating when Mrs. Berg takes the floor. "The show is now over."

"It is about time," Ivar mumbles and you elbow him, sighing once again.

"We will soon gather in the schoolyard for a time of sharing, but I ask for your attention a little longer.”

Hearing Ivar growling next to you, you glance hardly at him. "Hush!"

"This year, as you may know, the superheroes worked alongside me, with your children. A few weeks ago, your children were asked to choose their favourite superhero and to write a short text explaining why they chose them. I must say that superheroes inspired your children and there were some very nice surprises. Many texts made me laugh, all stirred me up and some moved me to tears. So, I wanted to share this with you, and I suggested to your children that those who wish to read their writings tonight should do so. Five of them wish to do so. Thank you for welcoming Joen, the first of them."

As a chubby little boy walks a few steps forward, a sheet of paper in his shaky hands, Ivar whispers, "We can leave now, don't you think? No way Inger is going to put herself forward, as shy as she is. It's good though, I wouldn't have wanted her to praise Spiderman, the fucking king of math!"

"No, we're not moving." Putting your hand on his arm to prevent him from picking up his crutches, you explain as if he was a child, "That would be extremely rude, Ivar."

Hearing that, Ivar intends to protest but upset people are hushing you both and your husband, clearly annoyed, eventually quiets.

Half listening, you watch first the little Joen, who's talking about his admiration for Captain America, second the pretty Gerta explaining her love for Wolverine. While another child is speaking, you make sure to keep a close look on your childish husband.

Growling, sighing, he finally takes his phone out of his pocket.

"Ivar!" Speaking through clenched teeth and tearing the device out of his hands, your look at him hard.

Rolling his eyes, he folds his arms and you're pretty sure he's sulking. You have to bite your tongue so you don't puff at his childish behavior.

Suddenly you can see the disbelief on his face as he grabs your hand.

"Look Y/N! It's our baby!"

Following his eyes, you realize he's right. Inger is standing on the makeshift stage, panic clear in her huge blue eyes, even if she's trying to contain herself.

Ivar squeezes your hand a little harder and you can't help but hold your breath as your stomach ties up in knots.

"Our little princess, my love…"

Taking a deep breath, Inger begins, "My super—". Blushing, she stops before looking for you. When her wide-open eyes meet yours, you try to give her all your strength and love. She smiles faintly.

"My own superhero doesn't fly, doesn't drive a batmobile and he cannot become invisible. But he's as strong as the Hulk and probably smarter than Iron Man."

As she stops, you can see she's terrified. Taking two steps towards her, Mrs. Berg, a hand on her shoulder, encourages her to pursue.

"My superhero doesn't have a cape. My superhero isn't like the others. He's a superhero with crutches."

Ivar's hand is crushing yours. "What is she doing?"

As stunned as he is, you answer sincerely. "I don't know."

"My superhero, stronger than all the others, is my daddy." Looking at Ivar, her smile is full of love.

"My daddy is different. His legs don't work very well. Sometimes my classmates ask me if I mind. But why would I care? Do I need to have a dad who looks like the others when I can have mine?"

No sound. You could pretty much hear a pin drop on the floor.

Getting bold, Inger speaks louder. "My daddy didn't teach me how to ride a bike and will never play football with my little brother. But he can do a lot of other things. Playing chess, going to the cinema with me, telling me Vikings stories. I think my daddy would have wanted to be a Viking superhero, and I'm sure he would have thrown Thor's lightnings. But above all, my daddy teaches me every single day that you can and have to push your boundaries. When he was born, the doctors told my grandma that my daddy could never stand up. Yet, he gets up every morning and walks every day. So yes, maybe he has a slight limp, maybe he's not moving very fast, maybe you want to look at him sometimes because his walking is weird. But when I look at him, when I look at my daddy, my eyes, my mind, and my heart are filled with admiration. Because seeing him, every day reminds me that nothing is impossible. That's what my daddy taught me, if I fight hard enough, then my dreams will come true. My daddy is different, but different doesn't mean inferior or less worthy.  And he's my daddy. And a superhero. Who wouldn't want a superhero as a father?"

Tears run freely on your cheeks as applause resounds in the room. Ivar is sobbing next to you.

The next minute, Inger is standing in front of you. Sliding one arm around Ivar's neck, you can hear her whispering. "I love you, daddy."

Then she gently kisses your cheek. "I love you too, mom."

***

"Of course, sweetheart, enjoy playing with your friends a little longer." After kissing your daughter, you walk toward Ivar.

A glass of orange juice in his hand, he's talking to other parents. You've never seen him like this before. He stands incredibly straight, smiling at everyone. Your husband is proud. Proud of his daughter. Proud of himself, you can see it in his eyes. And you, you're so proud of the both of them that you feel like you're melting, your heart filled with joy and happiness.

Wrapping an arm, lovingly, around his waist, you give an apologetic look to the people he talks to and draw him a little closer.

Standing on tiptoes, you kiss his cheek. "I thought you hated it."

Frowning, he looks at you. "What are you talking about?"

"You know… The farewell drink in the schoolyard, the mindless chat, the chips and the commercial fruit juice…"

He knows perfectly well that you're teasing him.

His lips graze yours. "Yes, I hated it, you're right. But this was before, Y/N. When I wasn't a superhero yet." Puffing his chest, he winks, flashing you a cocky grin.

Shit. We're not out of the woods yet.

🛡⚔️🛡

@saldelys​ @waiting4inspiration​ @honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @gearhead66​

[soggybensolo]

Homecoming

@obsessionprofessional​ Asked: May I request 87 (”One more moment is all I’m asking for.”) with Ben after he returns to the light? Maybe he tries to talk to the reader and she doesn’t know if she wants to listen. Could it turn into fluffy smut? 

A/N: I’m not gonna lie- this took me forever to write. it was such a simple request and I spent a lot of time trying to go above and beyond. Thank you for all the love. XOXO

Prompts: 87. “One more moment is all I'm asking for.”

WARNINGS: language. SOME R*ylo (NOT A R*YLO FIC). Fluffy Smut? Suspense. 

He looked around the celebration. There were so many people and not a single one of them was you. He was hoping for a chance to see you again. It had been 17 years since last he spoke with you and it didn’t end the way he had hoped. He never thought he’d be back. He always pictured himself dead sooner rather than later.

“Ben,” Rey began. “Are you alright?”

“Of course.” he lied.

Rey rubbed his arm supportively. “We’re home now. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. You’re safe.”

He looked into her eyes. After all that she had just been through they still looked so naive. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Rey smiled adoringly. “I’d do it all again if I had to.”

Ben leaned against a table and gave her a small smile. “I know.”

She leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m going to have a chat with others. If you need me, let me know.”

“I will.”

Ben stayed for a bit longer before slipping away unnoticed by the partygoers. Rey was play fighting with Poe while he had Finn in a headlock and the majority didn’t care to see him. He moved around the base completely unfamiliar with its halls and if it had not been for the force he would have gotten lost on his way to find you. He held his hand out to a bedroom door and it slid open.

You sat at a small table with a tray of tea, and your gaze locked on your window. It was unsettling the news of his arrival home, healthy, and with somebody else. You thought you’d never see Ben again, at least not alive.

“Hey- uh- How are you?” he dragged out.

Setting down your teacup and adjusting your posture, you pursed your lips in disgust. So posh.

“I’m well, thank you. I’d ask how you’ve been but I already know. The whole damn galaxy knows.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Save it,” you scoffed. “You don’t get to say ‘I’m sorry’ especially since I told you this was going to happen. I warned you years ago but you didn’t listen to me, Ben! I told you so!”

Ben pouted, tears pulling in his eyes. “I know. I should have listened to you.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered even if you did. I had already seen your ending and I know how this will end.” You were a psychic. When it came to the force, premonition was the only power you had.

Ben knew better than anyone that all your visions were to come true. He never tried to ignore that even when it was something he didn’t want to hear. “I was stupid to think I could change my fate. Really I was.”

When he reached for your hands you yanked them away. “Stop. don’t touch me. you know I can feel everything when you do that.”

“I’m sorry.” he whimpered.

“Where’s Rey?”

“Why?”

You rolled your eyes spitting venom. “Don’t you think it’s inappropriate for you to be alone with me in my quarters? I don’t think she’d like that.”

“I’m sorry for it, truly , but I can’t deny what I have with her.”

Ben dropped down to his knees in front of you. He was crying for you. Fate had been so cruel and punished you for loving him. When the universe tore you apart the first time, you defied the maker and chased after him. When he was ripped from your life the second time it left you with permanent consequence and turned your life upside down. Ripping it apart from the seams and sewing it back together in mental exile.

“It was going to happen one way or another but who was I to try to play god and stop it?”

“(y/n), I did miss you.” He looked at his hands afraid what your face would scream at him. “It was hard without you for a while but over time it didn’t hurt as bad. I really thought you were it for me. You know Rey’s a lot like you in some ways. It’s scary just how much she reminds me of you. It makes my heart hurt. It makes me crave you.”

You clenched your jaw, containing the urge to slug him or smash him over the head with the teapot. “Well, I’m just so fucking happy for you. While you were off in space like some damn primadonna I was here. Left alone to deal with our burdens. Reminded every day of you.”

“Look, I know I lied to you about everything. I know abandoned you when you need me most and the maker knows I did you wrong…. I don’t deserve your forgiveness and I sure as hell don’t deserve you— but can you just forgive me for tonight?” Ben’s lip quivered and his golden eyes grew big. “One more moment is all I’m asking for.”

Saying nothing at all, you enveloped his trembling body into your arms. He was as warm as you remembered and still smelled the same. The only thing different about Ben was that he was a man now. His arms, chest, and legs were ten times thicker than the boy you used to hold. All had changed but his eyes. They were the only thing that remained the same. Still in time. Youthful as ever.

He Softly brushed his pouty lips against yours. Kissing you with passion and old flames. His fingers traveled from your cheeks, through your hair and found themselves at the hem of your dress.

Ben was good at begging and you were good at taking him back.

Ben lifted you to the bed adjusting so he could be on top. He was the right kind of dominant, yet gentle with his touch. How someone could manhandle in a soft way was a true gift.

“I feel like I’m 16 again,” you smiled, reaching for the ends of his tunic.

He pulled the fabric with ease, tossing it into the unknown. He kissed your cheek then dove for your neck. He nipped Delicately with his teeth then with his lips, following an invisible trail down your sternum. He kissed your left collarbone followed by the right, kissed the top of your left breast and then the right and finally kissed cleavage.

“You definitely didn’t have all of this at 16.” He teased cupping your chest in his hands.

“I was a late bloomer you ass!” You laughed, punching his arm.

Ben laughed back. His laughter was that of a child, sweet and melodic. Before his fall and before his padawan days his laughter was all you heard. He was a good boy with a funny personality. Though some said he was a brooding introvert you knew he was outgoing around the right people. All Ben ever wanted to do was to make something out of himself and make someone proud. He just wanted people to believe in him. To accept him. To love him.

He always felt loved by you.

Sliding your dress up past your hips and over your head, Ben undressed you. His eyes were hungry and his stomach was empty. The body is a temple, maker was he grateful for yours. He used his thumbs to carve out your hip bones and rotated them in a circle. He ran his tongue along the ends of his teeth, he was mesmerized by the image before him. Ben was an absolute fucking idiot, and walking away from you was the best/worst decision he’d ever made.

“Take a holoscan. It’ll last longer.”

Ben smirked, leaning in to kiss you. He entered you like a sanctuary and all at once his body was full of haven. The sense of security he had been missing had now returned. There was no woman in the galaxy that could make him feel the way you did. Kylo Ren was an idiot from stopping him from seeing you sooner. An idiot too prideful to admit he needed someone, but was even stupider to try to throw it all away for some scavenger.

“Ben-” You moaned, staring him straight in his golden eyes. “If you asked… I would have followed.”

“I know-” he whispered, tangling your fingers with his. “I saw two futures.”

“One where I lived and one where I died.”

“Used my last two good brain cells to make a decision,” he smiled wholeheartedly. “At least I did one thing right.”

Ben kept his sight locked on yours as he thrust faster, edging the both of you. Crying out in unison. He squeezed your hands, observing your expression. You were an angel to him. He truly didn’t deserve you. Kylo Ren would not have been good for you. Ben still wasn’t sure if he was good for you. He fucked up your life forever.

“There’s something I have to tell you, Ben.” you sighed in harmony.

“Can it wait?”

“No.”

He grunted going deeper. “Please?”

“Oh, Ben-” you sang “Ben.”

As your toes curled his movements became sloppy. What felt like forever had now come to an end. He peeked first, then you.

“Hey, are you alright in there?” A males voice called from behind the door.

Ben shot up. “Who’s that?”

“You need to go,” you whispered quickly, collecting his things. “He can’t see you. He can’t know you’re here.”

“Who can’t? Are you married!?��� he hissed pulling on his pants.

You ran your hands through disheveled hair while you frantically looked for your dress. “No! I wouldn’t do this if I was!”

“Hello, are you in there?” the voice called again. “I can hear you moving around in there. If you don’t open the door I’ll just hack the keypad again.”

“Ok, out the window!” you panicked. “I need you to leave Ben and I need you to never come around here again.”

Ben pulled his tunic back over his head, feeling a twinge in his chest. “What are you hiding!? Is it what you were going to say to me?”

“It’s not what I’m hiding. It's what I’m protecting. I’ve decided to use my last two brain cells to make the right decision.” you rushed throwing on your clothes.

“What the f-”

“Mom.” the door slid open.

Ben froze and you shut your eyes. “Mom?”

“Who the hell-” your son began. “Dad?”

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Decryption_Error: “Catastrophic Failure”

Summary: Y/N does everything she can to help Elliot one last time.

Warnings: Angst, Discussion of DID and Mental Health

A/N: * = dialogue taken directly and/or paraphrased from the show; ** = researched tech stuff (not my thoughts/ideas)

Word Count: 6767

Decryption_Error: All Chapters

I blinked away a drugged sleep as my phone blared. I thought I had silenced it, but then again, my overreliance on my anxiety meds was making everything muddled.

Elliot 🖤

I had to be dreaming.

I hadn’t heard from Elliot since he walked away from me on Coney Island a week ago.

I had to be dreaming, but I could still hear the warble of my ringtone and I could feel the vibrations of my phone as I stared at his name.

I touched my thumb stupidly to the green icon and slid it to answer, expecting no one to be on the other end.

“Hello?”

“I need you to come out to your parents’ house. There’s not a lot … not a lot of time. Please.”  

“Elliot?” I questioned, my pulse quickening at the edge of desperation in his voice. “Please tell me this is really you.”

A harsh, shuffling sound made me pull the phone slightly away from my ear, then the line went dead.

I lowered my phone to stare at the screen as it went black, but the persistent hammering of my heart reminded me that really did happen and I needed to move … fast.

I fumbled my way through the dark and into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face to clear my head. I brushed my teeth as I walked into the closet and pulled on my still-sandy jeans and jostled into my also-still-sandy sweater from the night not-Elliot walked away from me. I yanked my sweater down as it caught on my toothbrush before I rushed back into the bathroom to rinse.

I stumbled as I slid into my sneakers, but when a small pile of sand fell out of the tread, I stared at it, remembering the story Elliot told me about a day he and his father played hooky and went to the beach. When he got home, his sneakers were full of sand and he dumped them on his bedroom floor. His mother was furious, but his father wasn’t. Elliot had said he often thought about that moment, about how difficult it would be to take enough sand away from that beach, shoe-full by shoe-full to make a difference in the landscape.*

“Is that what you really want, El?” I asked as his fingers ran through my hair while I laid with my head in his lap, looking up and watching his chin move as he spoke. “To change the world?”

“I don’t know. It takes so long to make any real change. What if I don’t have the stomach for it?”*

“Well,” I said slowly, smiling as I reached up to angle his face so he looked down at me, his own mouth mirroring my soft smile as he waited for me to continue. “It didn’t take you all that long to change my life.”

“Has it been a good change?” he asked as his smile grew to a grin.

“The best change,” I answered as my happy grin paralleled Elliot’s, our exchange of mirrored smiles offering the perfect evidence for how we had changed each other’s lives for the best.

I gasped for a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding as that memory assaulted me.  

“Fuck!” I yelled into the void of my closet as I pushed away the sweetness of the memory and forced my mind back to the agony of the present.

I adjusted my shoes, and tore out of the bedroom, only slowing my pace as I passed the guest room. I offered a prayer to anything listening that my parents stayed fast asleep.

After Elliot was fired and I didn’t answer my dad’s phone calls, he came to my apartment. I had managed to keep myself together for the rest of the work week, but the second I saw my dad, the dam inside of me broke.

I clung to him as he cradled me on the sofa, reduced to an inconsolable child as the heartbreak of losing Elliot flooded through me.

Mom and Dad cancelled their Memorial Day plans, even though it was going to be the first once since they had officially moved into the Greenwich house. Kath decided to host Josh’s family at their place, and Erin, Ryan, and Charlie decided to fly down to Palm Beach for the weekend. Each of my siblings did their best to cajole me into joining them, but they all knew I wasn’t going to.

Mom then made a very loud proclamation to anyone who would listen that she and my dad would stay with me in the city until I was “feeling more like myself.”

I didn’t have the strength to fight her, and although I was hesitant to admit it, having my parents to take care of me as my world fell apart helped.

After grabbing my bag, I shut the door to my apartment as quietly as I could, and as I waited for the elevator, I glanced at my phone to check the time.

2:07 am

I tried not to think that exactly one year ago, Elliot was asleep in my bed after we had a picnic and had gotten high, both of us basking in feelings that came at the beginning of a relationship, both of our hearts identical twins of hope for the possibility of an “us.”

I fumbled with the door to my SUV and settled in, slapping my cheeks to shake off the remnants of my meds. As a final thought, I checked my call history just to make sure everything still had really happened.

Elliot 🖤 1:54 am

I put the car in reverse, and quickly made my way out of the city.

* * * * *

I was rigid with fear as I finally pulled into my parents’ house, my stomach in knots and my head aching from clenching my jaw for the entire drive.

Considering Elliot’s phone call, I was unsurprised that the front door was unlocked.

Opening it slowly, I stepped into the pitch-black entryway, my eyes scanning the dark for any movement. I moved to check the alarm system, but it had already been disabled.

As my eyes adjusted, I looked to the staircase but changed my mind and made my way to my dad’s office—the office where Elliot and I had stopped the hackers over the Fourth of July weekend.

There was a light coming from Dad’s office, the familiar muted wash of a computer screen’s glow.

I pushed into the room with caution, my gaze settling on Elliot as he was seated at my dad’s computer, his fingers working at a pace that would’ve been deemed brutal for anyone else.

“Elliot?”

He never took his eyes off the screen, nor did his fingers falter as he replied, “No.”

“Why would you call me?”

“I didn’t,” not-Elliot said as he finally stopped typing and raised his eyes to mine, his cheek bright red with what would surely be a nasty bruise in a few hours.

“You hurt him?”

“He was getting in our way.”

“Our? As in you and Mr. Robot? So you’re a team now?”

Anger spurned my body into motion. I rushed to the desk and kicked the chair so it rolled him away from the computer.

He didn’t fight me.

I glared at him, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. I turned away to look at the monitor, my eyes narrowing in concentration as I worked to figure out what he was running.

My mouth dropped open when I realized I was looking at Dream Market, one of the largest data dump markets on the Dark Web. It had only been running for a little over a year and was only accessible with anonymity software, but it was the place to go if you wanted data … or drugs. **

He had used Tor to access Dream Market. Tor was an acronym derived from The Onion Project, which used onion routers to effectively encrypt user traffic that passed IP addresses through a complex of Tor nodes. Those “onion layers” protected any user's anonymity by providing access to similarly protected websites, thus a virtual, back-alley marketplace was born. **

“You dumped Precision Machining’s data. You—you put it up for sale.”

“Only the board members’ data.”

“Why? Why?!” I asked as I bent over the keyboard, too far out of my skillset to even know how to start retrieving the stolen information.

“This can all go away, sweetheart.”

I froze at the switched intonation which meant I was now dealing with Mr. Robot. I stepped back and looked over at him, Elliot’s entire demeanor changed from focused on the hack and disconnected in his interaction with me, to disconnected from the hack and very, very focused on me.

“This can all go away if I leave Elliot alone.”

“Elliot does like a girl with a brain,” Mr. Robot said as he put his hands on top of his head and leaned back in my dad’s chair.

“What happened to … the other one? The hacker?”

Mr. Robot laughed as he leaned farther back in the chair, confident in his knowledge that he had total control of this situation.

“I’m the only one Elliot really needs. Problem was he lost sight of our plan, thanks to you.”

“Plan?”

Mr. Robot leaned forward, shifting his feet before he stood up, slowly. His movements were more relaxed, more confident than Elliot’s; the way he walked with purpose and the fact that he never dropped his gaze made me understand why he was Elliot’s protector.  

“Elliot needs to keep busy. It’s good for him. And the shit you had him doing at his cushy Wall Street job wasn’t cutting it. Not to mention all the lovey-dovey crap—'let’s talk about our feeelings’ all the fucking time. Jesus Christ.

“It was only a matter of time before he needed a … a challenge. You see, sometimes he dreams about saving the world. Saving everyone from an invisible hand, one that brands them with an employee badge. One that forces them to work for people like your old man. People who control us every day without us knowing it. Except that Elliot does know it because I never let him forget it.”*

I listened, unsurprised by Mr. Robot’s words. I knew Elliot thought about those things. I knew he struggled to reconcile being normal with being complacent. But I also knew now that Elliot was angry about something that had nothing to do with the injustices of the world, something that Mr. Robot was working his ass off to keep from him.

“That’s not what this is about and you know it. This,” I said gesturing to the screen, “is an illusion. It’s something you’ve come up with to stop him from getting too close to the secret you’ve worked so hard to protect. Aren’t you tired, Mr. Robot? Aren’t you tired of hurting him for the sake of protecting him? Of keeping Elliot from a truth he needs to know in order to move on—”

“There is no moving on because there is no hard reset that can be done if Elliot remembers!” Mr. Robot growled as he stepped toward me, his face inches from mine.

I stumbled back, my hip bumping against the desk.

“If he remembers, if he learns the truth, it will break him.”

I will never forget the way Mr. Robot’s eyes, the same yet not at all the same as Elliot’s, flashed with pain as I said, “Maybe you’re too scared he won’t need you anymore if he learns the truth. Maybe it’s you that can’t handle the possibility of it healing him instead of breaking him.”

“You know nothing about Elliot, nothing about us! You were just our playground, little girl,” Mr. Robot spat as he grabbed my arm and twisted me toward the computer screen. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pushed my head close to the monitor.

“Everything a hacker would need to take down the company your father built is right there, waiting for the highest bidder,” he said with a final shove of my head before he let me go.  

I held myself up with shaky arms, tears stinging at my eyes as I realized this was his ultimatum. There was no reasoning with Mr. Robot because he only had one source of hunger; he desired nothing other than to protect Elliot, even if that meant sacrificing the thing that had made him the happiest he had been in his adult life.

I finally accepted that I didn’t have the strength to fight Mr. Robot. If he was already able to use the only other part of Elliot I got close to against me, it was two against one. It would tear Elliot apart to keep him—if I fought for him, I would be the one breaking him.

“If—” my voice faltered, choked by the sob of despair that had built within me as I realized what I had to do.

“If I swear to—to delete Elliot from my life, will you give him back control? Will you take back the hack?”

Before Mr. Robot could answer, the sound of sirens infiltrated my dad’s office. My head whipped toward the door and I could see lights flashing through the house as the police pulled into the driveway.

“You called the police?” Mr. Robot asked, panic evident in his normally confident tone.

He moved to the office door and peered out into the house, the sound of footsteps pounding across the porch causing his mouth to drop open as he drew in deeper breaths.

I shook my head.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well someone sure as fuck did!”

“Maybe my dad heard me leave. Maybe—”

“Maybe I don’t give a fuck! Now listen to me,” Mr. Robot said, his teeth bared as he walked back to stand in front of me. “If I go to jail, Elliot goes to jail. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Get him out of this and I’ll make sure the hack is reversed.”

“THIS IS THE POLICE! Y/N Y/L/N, IF YOU ARE ABLE, COME TO THE DOOR.”

“How am I supposed to help him if you won’t let me see him again?”

“Do you really want me to bring him back now? Into this mess?!”

“Y/N Y/L/N! ARE YOU IN DANGER? IF YOU DO NOT RESPOND IN 30 SECONDS, WE WILL BREAK DOWN THE DOOR.”

“Promise I’ll see him again? Please.”

“You don’t have the power to bargain!”

“Let me at least say goodbye and I’ll make sure he stays out of jail. Money talks, in case you’re too high on your fucking horse to remember that!”

Mr. Robot’s eyes bore into mine as he decided whether to trust me or to take his luck with the penal system.

I pressed, “And you still have to reverse the hack—I can’t help Elliot stay out of jail if that data gets sold.”

The front door splintered and my foot jumped to the powerstrip under my dad’s desk. I paused near the button, waiting for Mr. Robot’s answer before plunging us into darkness.

“Fine—I undo the hack, you get to say goodbye, then you stay the fuck out of his life. Or else we do this alllll over again, princess.”

I nodded my agreement to his terms.

Mr. Robot jumped back from the doorway as a crunch of noise indicated the front door had been flung open.

A rush of movement flooded into the house.

“Put your hands on your head and don’t move!” I ordered as I kicked off the powerstrip under dad’s desk before rushing out of the office, my hands on my head as I stood in front of the door.

“He’s unarmed! He’s not a threat! He’s not a threat!” I repeated as an officer moved toward me and pulled me away from the office door, ushering me outside to safety.

The other two policemen entered Dad’s office and instructed Mr. Robot to get down on his knees.

As soon as my feet touched the sidewalk, I saw my dad pull in behind one of the cruisers. He leapt out of the car, not even bothering to cut the ignition.

I was bubbling with anger as I shook off the policeman’s grasp and crossed the lawn.

“How could you?!” I yelled before my mouth went dry and I felt a churning in my gut. As I was forced to quell my anger or end up being sick on our front lawn, I looked at my dad’s face; it was so filled with worry that for the first time in my life, he looked every bit his age.

He never stopped moving toward me and grabbed me in a fierce hug when he finally reached me. He tried to shield me from watching who he knew as Elliot being escorted into the police cruiser, but I pushed out of his grasp, needing to know that Mr. Robot hadn’t abandoned the person we both loved at a time when he really did need his protector.

There was nothing in his demeanor that signaled a return to Elliot as Mr. Robot calmly slid into the backseat of the cruiser, his hands cuffed, his face a stoical mask.

“You need to tell the police why he broke into our home, Y/N,” my dad said from somewhere behind me.

“Absolutely not.”

“I love you, Y/N, but you are not thinking clearly!” my dad reprimanded, uncharacteristically raising his voice.

“Of course I am!”

“It’s been him all along. All the hacks—I know it has.”

“That wasn’t him—not entirely.”

“What? Like a hacking ring?”

I laughed, a crazy tittering that felt so out of place on our pristine lawn in front of our huge house. My father had no idea how right he was.

I turned to him to explain, “The person who broke in tonight wasn’t the Elliot you’ve met. He has Dissociative Identity Disorder but he doesn’t know he has it. It’s complicated.”

My father’s face didn’t lose its sternness as he considered what I just told him.

“I know you love him, sweetheart, but—”

“He needs help, Dad,” I begged. “He needs us to be the family he doesn’t have.”  

As an officer approached and began asking a series of questions, my mind wondered back to all the quiet dreams I had about a future with Elliot, many of those dreams beginning in this house over the Fourth of July. Now, I felt like my whole world had gone grey; there was no bright goodness to be found in white, no rift of black to clearly signal evil, and no limitless possibilities held within all the bright colors between. Everything was just … grey.

“At this time, are you aware of any reason the subject in custody may have broken into your home?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at my father.

“… No. No, officer. I am not.”

I leaned into him, welcoming his strong arm as it wrapped protectively around my shoulders.  

* * * * *

A few hours later, our family lawyer, Thea, met us at the Greenwich Police Department. My dad filled her in as we sat in the waiting area, but I could tell by the frown on her face that Elliot’s case had the potential to be difficult.

“Connecticut has pretty strict laws on burglary—”

“He wasn’t stealing.”

Thea knew better than to ask anything else.

“It’s very helpful you aren’t filing additional charges. If I can swing it, I’d like to get the burglary charge changed to trespassing, then plead out at arraignment. That’s only if I can’t get it dismissed.”

I took a deep breath and spoke slowly, scared that somehow Mr. Robot would hear me.

“The charge can’t be dismissed because Elliot needs court-mandated therapy. He … he won’t go otherwise.”

“Does he have a documented mental illness?”

“Not documented, no. I was thinking … what if you could get him ordered to therapy for anger management?”

“Did he destroy any property at the house?”

“What if he intended to, but was interrupted? There’s … the possibility of establishing a pattern of behavior.”

Thea thought for a moment, then put her hand up when she saw me open my mouth again.

“I don’t want to know anything else until I talk to Mr. Alderson. Based on the police report and your cooperation, I have enough now to try to downgrade to a trespassing charge. We aren’t in the city, so I don’t know anything about the judge on the docket. I’m going to make a few calls and see if I can find anything out.

“Elliot should be out of booking by now and in a holding room.”  

“Can I see him?”

“Not until I do.”

“Charles Y/L/N?” interrupted a policeman who introduced himself as Captain Neiley. “The Chief told me to make sure you had anything you needed—Tony gave him a call early this morning.”

“Thank you,” Dad replied earnestly, shaking the Captain’s hand.

Because of my father’s connections, I soon found myself peering into a small, concrete room from behind the glass of a very small window, much smaller than the ones on television, as Elliot, or rather Mr. Robot, interacted with Thea.

I could tell it was not going well by the twist of Thea’s mouth and by the way Mr. Robot refused to look in her direction, much less sit down and talk to her. He was distrustful, and clearly, angry.

I looked around for an officer and when I found one, I asked her if she could get my attorney out. She nodded and unlocked the door, signaling for Thea.

“You shouldn’t be here right now, Y/N.”

“He’ll talk, but not to you … not yet. I need to tell him it’s safe.”

Thea sighed and bowed her head. She shrugged her shoulders as she looked back up and answered, “Go ahead. But anything he says to you is not going to help—he needs to talk to me.”

The officer opened the door again and when I walked into the room, I saw that Mr. Robot had finally sat down. As he looked at me, a war started to take place behind his eyes. He was silent for a long, long time and I just stood by the door with my back pressed against it, waiting to see if Mr. Robot would let go.

Finally, I saw it—the same subtle fluttering of his eyes as the night in my apartment.

“Y/N?” Elliot asked, both his voice and his eyes raw with vulnerability.

“Elliot,” I stated, unable to hold back my tears at finally seeing him again.  

“I’m here to help, El,” I choked out, “but you—all of you--have to let me help you.”

Elliot’s eyes filled with pools of tears before he shifted, his gaze on the steel of the table and his hands cradling his head.

“I can’t remember … only fragments and—” he looked up suddenly, his face turning to stare into the empty corner of the room where Mr. Robot had been standing before he sat down.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Elliot’s head whipped back in my direction, his eyes widening, his mouth falling open in horror.

“I know about Mr. Robot. It’s okay, Elliot. I’ve met him.”

“No—nobody knows about him.”

“He protects you.”

“Can you see him, too?”

“No, El. I can’t. I just know … it’s hard to explain, but I know you sometimes see him. It’s rare, but sometimes that’s just what happens with people like you.”

“In my mind,” Elliot groaned. “He’s only supposed to be in my mind.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry things have gotten this bad.”

“Oh god,” he moaned, his hands pulling hard at his hair as he rocked back in his seat. “I’m crazy—I’m a fucking schizo and you’re committing me.”  

“Tell him what happened tonight,” I said, my eyes flicking to the corner to indicate I wanted Mr. Robot to talk to Elliot.

Elliot looked to the corner again. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the room was silent. Whatever happened between Elliot and Mr. Robot did, indeed, only happen in his mind.

As I waited, I thought back to my research on DID, and I knew Elliot was in an extremely vulnerable state. I also knew what it meant to have his alters interact with me—I needed to be very careful not to break Mr. Robot’s trust since we had made a deal.

After a few minutes passed, Elliot sprang out of his chair and leapt toward the wall, his fist slamming into the concrete with a sick thud.

Elliot left his fist against the wall and leaned into it, tears streaming down his face as he broke down.

I rushed to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, molding my body to his and pressing into his back.

“It’s okay, Elliot. It’s okay. I’m here,” I soothed, my own tears flowing in a fresh wave because of his pain.

His hand fell away from the wall and he brought it to rest over my arms.  

I pulled him away from the wall and turned him to face me, his legs buckling and both of us sliding to the floor. I pulled him to me, so much like that night in my closet during the Fourth of July.

“I’m here. I’m here, Elliot. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry,” he said, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into my neck, his tears wet and smearing into my skin.

“He didn’t give me a choice—I had to do the ha—”

“You can’t talk about any of that right now. Not until you talk to the lawyer.”

“I hurt you—your father, your family,” Elliot said, his voice a dull rasp as he finally looked up at me, his cheeks a wet mess. I shifted to my knees so I could cradle his face in my hands; I wiped at his tears, careful to avoid the bruise on his cheek that had changed from red to an ugly burgundy, smoothed his brows, and swiped at his nose with the sleeve of my sweater.

As I touched him, he hiccupped, his breath evening out as he pulled himself together.

I kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose.

“Listen,” I said, holding his face in my hands and pushing his chin up with my thumbs. “I need you to talk to Thea, our lawyer. She’s going to help us.”

“Us,” Elliot whispered, a single tear falling from the corner of his eye and sliding down the side of my thumb.

“For now, but Mr. Robot wants me to let you go.”

Elliot frowned and leaned back, his head resting on the wall as I let my hands fall away from his face. A part of him clearly still hoped I could be in this with him, but we both knew I couldn’t be.

“I’m so tired of fighting him, Y/N. He’s … persistent.”

“Yeah. So I noticed,” I said with a quick upturn of my lips, watching as Elliot’s eyes continued to look at the ceiling.

“You need to be the one to talk to Thea. Mr. Robot needs to let you stay in control. Will you, and I mean YOU, I said waving in the direction of Mr. Robot but keeping my eyes trained on Elliot’s face, stay buried so he can get out of this mess?”  

Elliot looked over and up at Mr. Robot with a ferocity I hadn’t seen before.

His eyes returned to mine and he nodded.

“There’s something else.”

Elliot’s brows contracted as he looked at my face.

I moved close to him, slowly wrapping my arms around his neck in a hug. I turned toward his ear, whispering, “The data dump on the Dark Web—can you make it disappear?”

Elliot pulled me into the hug, his mouth nestling in next to my ear as he reached up to grasp my hair, burying his face in it.

“I built a security during the hack. If a password wasn’t entered every 45 minutes, the data would disappear from the Market. It’s gone now.”

I squeezed him and he tightened his grip as he inhaled, trying to lose himself in the scent of me.  

“Just like that night I needed to find you. Coney Island. You left your computer logged on.”

“Yes,” he answered, his confirmation a low, comforting rumble.  

“Can you—will you stay with me until this is all over?”

“Thea has to talk to you alone, but I’ll be right outside. I’ll go every step of the way that I can with you—as long as Mr. Robot lets me.”

Elliot swallowed thickly, and I pulled away from him. We looked into each other’s eyes until the door opened, then he cast his gaze to the floor.

“Ready to talk, Mr. Alderson?”

* * * * *

Over an hour later, I almost jumped out of my skin when Thea finally emerged from the holding room.

Dad had insisted I eat something, but since I refused to leave, he ran out and got breakfast. I ate enough to make him satisfied, but just as I rounded the corner to throw away our trash, I heard the door open.

I rushed back and caught the door, needing to see Elliot again.

“You’re right, Y/N,” Thea said quietly. “Elliot doesn’t belong in prison, but he needs, at a minimum, a few months of court-mandated therapy. He … destroyed some servers at CIStech?”

My dad frowned, remembering the incident that brought Elliot and I together.

“It was never a romantic story to begin with, Dad,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

I turned my attention back to Thea and asked what that had to do with anything.

“You took care of that one, huh?”

“I did.”

Thea looked at me for a long moment, then began, “There is no way for the DA to prove that Elliot had the intent of committing a criminal act while on your property unless you or your dad have something—”

“We don’t.”

My father shook his head no, and Thea’s mouth quirked up at the corner, “Of course not.”

“How long will this take?”

“I’m taking my offer to the DA now. If they agree to it, the judge may rule at arraignment and this whole thing could be over today.”

“Thank you, Thea. Can I say goodbye?”

“Be quick because Elliot is going to be moved to a holding room outside of the court, soon. I’ll see you over there.”

“Thank you,” I said again before pulling the door open.

Before the door even shut, Elliot stood and began pacing, his voice raspy with overuse as he started talking.

“I have to give you up. He’s not going to leave me alone until I do. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything I did. I’m sorry for letting him do this to you. I’m sorry—"

“Elliot, slow down,” I said as I crossed the room and intercepted his pacing. He stopped with a start in front of me and stuffed his hands in his hoodie’s pockets.

I reached out and lightly squeezed his shoulders, moving my hands down his biceps, and over his forearms. I felt him relax under my repetitive touches, and when it was clear he wasn’t about to climb the wall, I stepped closer and slid my hands into his hoodie’s pockets.

“How’s your hand?” I asked, feeling the swollen knuckles of his right hand in comparison to the unaffected left.

“That’s how this whole thing started,” Elliot said, pulling both of our hands out of his pockets. His shook as he held onto mine. “You took such good care of me.”

“I kept you prisoner in my apartment.”

“And here we are now,” Elliot said with a small smile.

My heart ached at how easy this was with him … how easy it was when it was just him.

“I hate this,” Elliot said in agony as he searched my face, surely sensing that I was on the verge of falling apart again.

I looked into his big grey eyes and let myself get lost, swept back into the love I felt for him, knowing this could be the last time I ever saw him.

“I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry for whatever happened that made you need Mr. Robot. You need to figure out what’s at the root of all of this, why you keep forgetting, and I’m not the one who can do that for you. But you know what? I am going to make sure you have a real chance at getting professional help.”

“I know,” Elliot said, lowering his eyes but still holding on to my hands.

“Know what else? I love you.”

Elliot’s eyes snapped back up to mine, and again, I saw a fierce determination unlike anything I’d ever seen in his eyes before.

“I’m gonna be happy with you someday, Y/N. I’m gonna love you like you love me.”

I held his gaze as I shook off the grip of his hands to reach up and cradle his face.

“You have to love yourself first, Elliot. Mr. Robot is never going to let go of his control as long as you need him to…meet whatever need it is you need met.”

“I’m never going to forget you loved me first—never.”

As if all the pieces of my heart weren’t already broken, I knew that wasn’t true. Mr. Robot was going to delete me. Elliot was never going to remember that someone loved him first. All I could hope for was that Mr. Robot was listening right now, a part of him feeling compassionate enough to allow Elliot to one day restore a previous version of himself, this version.

“Will you wait for me? I know I don’t have a right to ask, but have I earned the right to hope that you will?”

Before I could answer him, an officer opened the door and said it was time to move to the courthouse.

I melted into Elliot’s arms, and he hugged me. I felt determination radiate from him.

He’s so much stronger than Mr. Robot thinks.

I pulled back, knowing the officer was waiting, and I reached up to cup his face one more time. I memorized his face until my eyes filled with tears and he became a blur. I blinked away those tears and I tried to absorb the love that so clearly emanated from his beautiful eyes.

I leaned in to kiss Elliot, and he pressed his entire body into mine, molding his lips against mine as if our mouths had been designed from conception just to connect like this in this single moment.

I knew he could taste the salt of my tears as I broke the kiss and managed to look at him one last time before my vision blurred again and I rushed out the door. I only just made it to the bathroom in time to throw up everything I ate, and as I knelt on the worn, green and white bathroom floor, surrounded by the smell of bleach that tried its best to cover up the stench of urine and failed, my grief finally pulled me under and I let myself drown. Then, for the second time in less than a week, I felt my father’s arms tighten around me as I fell apart.

—Narrator—

November 2014

Mr. Robot whispered to Elliot as he worked, reassuring him this was for the best. Seeing Darlene on Halloween for the first time in over five months reopened a chasm of loneliness Elliot hadn’t felt since—

“You’re really fucking this up, kiddo,” Mr. Robot said from where he was leaning against the wall. “This is what happens when you don’t stick to the plan. You’ve got to get that job at Allsafe with Angela.”

“I know. For fuck’s sake, I know,” Elliot growled as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

His hand reached to click the mouse as he dragged all of the pictures on his phone onto the CD sitting in his drive.

“No, son,” Mr. Robot said as Elliot popped the disk out of the drive. “You’re not done yet.”

Elliot looked at him, his brows drawn in confusion.

“Why can’t you just tell me why we have to keep doing this?”

“You’re not ready to know, Elliot. You created me to be your protector; you have to trust me to do what’s best to keep you safe. So … be a part of this, or I can do it myself. Either way, everything, except Angela, has got to go.”

As Elliot pushed the CD that would hold all of his memories back into the drive, Master Mind watched.

And more importantly, Master Mind waited.

He knew he had one chance at this, exactly one chance to take control and to fix everything Mr. Robot had done. He had one chance to make the world a place where Elliot could finally be happy without condition. He had one chance to restore Elliot’s previous version, effectively recovering all the data Mr. Robot had been deleting over the past few months.

“Alright, kiddo,” Mr. Robot said as Elliot tucked the unlabeled CD into the otherwise empty black binder and tossed it to the floor, kicking it under his bookshelf. “It’s time.

Elliot took a deep breath as he prepared to relinquish control to Mr. Robot, trusting in his protector, but just before Mr. Robot could take over, Master Mind seized his chance.

Elliot’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, but it was too late; as Master Mind took complete control for the first time, Elliot slipped into a black void.

* * * * *

Elliot Alderson sat in the waiting room of the third cybersecurity firm he had interviewed with. This one, though, seemed different. He liked that it didn’t hide who it was.

“CIStech: Always Vigilant” read the sign on the glass door he had pushed open only a few minutes ago.

Yes, Elliot decided he definitely liked this company, so far. Being vigilant was smart. Too many people were happy to live without awareness, happy to live in their bubbles of the naïve just so they could feel good until someone told them what else they neededto have to keep feeling good.*

Elliot cleared his throat as he heard his name announced over the intercom at the secretary’s desk.

“Jayne? Bring in Mr. Alderson, please.”

He was drawn to that voice on the intercom. He liked it—confident, but kind.

Elliot shifted in his seat, ready to stand.

He took a deep breath as he followed the secretary into what was clearly meant to be a friendly, comfortable atmosphere. Instead of a large panel of interviewers, it was just three people. Instead of interviewing in a board room, it was in an office with a round table.

Like equals, Elliot thought. Except they’ve got the power to decide what happens next in my life.

“Mr. Alderson,” a man began, extending his hand. “I’m Colin Greene, Supervisor.

Fuck. They’re hand-shakers.

Elliot followed protocol, reminding himself that his was how to play the game. He shook the second Supervisor’s hand, and then—

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, Senior Manager.”

Elliot stared at Y/N, finally remembering that she was waiting for him to shake her hand, but Elliot felt afraid to touch her.

What if I touch her and she disappears? Like some kind of dream?

Elliot almost laughed out loud at that thought, but something pulsed inside of him, something that made him long to touch this stranger who seemed so familiar to him, who seemed like someone so much more important than a Supervisor at a mediocre cybersecurity firm.

A surge of excitement coursed through Elliot as he extended his hand, not knowing what was going to happen next. As his eyes locked onto the stranger’s, he watched as a sweet smile pulled at her lips, a smile that made him feel safe.

And for a reason he couldn’t explain, made him feel loved.

GIF Credit: @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r

A/N 2.0: Thank you, thank you, thank you for going on this journey with me. Your comments, likes, and reblogs kept me moving along even when I wanted nothing more than to throw my computer out of the window and give up. I put a lot into this story, and it is the longest thing I’ve ever written. I would love to know how you felt about the story or if you have anything you want to ask/discuss, so hit me up with a comment or an ask.

I love Elliot, and I am so glad you do, too. Thank you for indulging me, as always. -xMx ❤️

Tags: @sherlollydramoine​ @rami-malek-trash​ @teamwolf2411 @limabein​ @txmel​ @alottanothing​ @ouatlovr @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​ @moon-stars-soul​ @free-rami @ramimedley​ @hopplessdreamer​ @sweet-charmie @polarcrystall​ @hah0106​ @clumsybookworm18​ @diasimar​ @ramisgirl512​ @aboutthatmelancholystorm​

And a special thank you tag to my cheerleader who gives me the best comments with so many pterodactyl screeches that my heart soars every time I read them. Thank you @alottanothing​! 

A/N 3.0: All of my research on DID indicates that while there are many commonalities, every system is pretty unique. For example, while many folks who have DID may have a “protector” figure, their protector will function uniquely for the needs of their system. The way I treated DID in this particular fic is a combination of my informal research and just taking what Sam Esmail gave us and working within his parameters. It’s actually super uncommon for alters to manifest and be “seen,” but I stuck with that idea because it was Sam’s and was so integral to the show. I am a singleton, so I am not an expert, nor do I claim to be an authority of any kind when it comes to the incredible complexities of being a system. 

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

New People

Danny personally felt that he was well within his rights to be a bit weirded out by what was going on.  He was on his way to school, getting interrupted by some half-formed spider ghost with threads all over the place that he had to dodge out of the way of before he could even get close to shooting it, Tucker was freaking out and Sam was doing her best to shoot away the webs that Danny actually got caught in.  It took quite a bit of time to squish much of the bug and then get it in the thermos.  During this time, Danny got hit by its pincers and bitten, and the wound was exposed and dripping ectoplasm and some thick purple goop that he assumed was venom.   Things were the standard amount of bad.

The unusual thing was when a ghost with blue skin, pink eyes, and rippling hair that shifted colors between red, yellow and orange flew up to him and gently grabbed his arm.  And then he pulled out a cotton ball from his pocket and started dabbing Danny’s wound.  “Yikes, this is a nasty bite.  You’re Danny Phantom, right?  The bridge spirit?”

“Uh,” Danny looked down at his friends, who shrugged, weapons trained on the newcomer.  “Yeah, I’m the halfa Danny Phantom.”  The guy snorted and Danny scowled.  “What’s so funny?”

“Halfa sounds like something my son would’ve called it when he was 7.”  Once the cotton ball was soaked through it was put in a ziplock that vanished off to somewhere and a water bottle was poured over it instead, followed by a cloth.  “I’m Dr. Jason Pace.  Nice to meet you.”

Danny stared at the man while he cleaned his cut with wide eyes.  “There are ghost doctors?”  It felt like a dumb question, doctors died as much as anyone else, but with all the violent ghosts that came through it was weird to see someone who specialized in helping people.

“Death is hardly enough to keep a medic from helping people who need attention,” Jason said with a chuckle.  “When I woke up in the Infinite Realms I met this big burly werewolf in a hoodie who said he was here to take me where I’m supposed to go but he got to me late, and I thought ‘wow, psychopomps are real and they can be behind schedule.’”

“Did.  Did this werewolf happen to speak Esperanto?”

“Yeah, said his name is Wulf.  I told him that wasn’t very original and he agreed.  Then I told him that I needed to see my husband and he cut open a hole back to the living realm about two weeks after my death, and after a very passionate and emotional night, I headed back into work and just sorta.  Kept doing what I do.”  He hummed, holding up the cloth and setting it on fire before tossing it behind him, where Danny watched it turn to ashes before it made it five feet above the ground. He swiped the purple goop with a q-tip, and then a bunch of vials of glowing liquid appeared from thin air, spinning around him in a lazy orbit.  “Poisonous and venomous ghost animals are horrors and ecto entomologists can kiss my ass if they wanna preach about preserving species.”

“What… are you doing?”

“Ah that’s what it is- you’re going to feel numb in a couple of seconds, which is perfectly normal, but then your core will start to go … well let’s just say I’m glad I got to you in time.”  One of the vials stopped, the swab burned up like the cloth, and a syringe was put into play.  “This is an antivenom.  Please don’t squirm, or this will hurt more.”  Jason pressed the needle over where a vein should’ve been, and Danny hissed at the sharp prick of pain.  Then a lollipop of all things was presented to him.  “Hope you like blueberry.”

“So, what I’m gathering is that you just wanna treat people and you came up to me cause I got bit by a spider.  I don’t remember my folks ranting about a doctor ghost tricking the people at the hospital into dastardly plans so I’m gonna guess you’re not from around here.”

“Oh, this isn’t why I came to your town of course, but yeah this is the thing I’m gonna be doing.”  The syringe needle, once removed, was disintegrated like the rest, and a bandage was stuck on Danny’s arm before his suit could reform around it.  “You should be good… and don’t worry, I don’t mess with people’s heads.  I just help people.  And yes, I know how to help bridge spirits like yourself.”  He held out a business card and gave a two-fingered salute.  “Give that a little charge if you need me.  Bye!”

They watched Jason fade from sight and Danny stared at where he’d been with wide eyes, blinking rapidly.  “What the f-”

“We need to get to school!”  Sam shouted, drawing his attention down to his best friends.  Danny dove down and scooped them both up, turning invisible and flying toward the school.  “Oh, wow, ok.”

“So that was weird, right?”

“That was really fuckin weird, yeah,” Tucker said.  “I guess it makes sense that there’d be ghost doctors, hospitals are the evilest places.”

“I’m glad he’s here,” Sam said.  “Maybe he’ll be able to help you keep up with your habit of crashing into things.”

“I don’t have a habit thank you. My enemies have a habit of yeeting me into things.  There’s a difference.”

“You can turn intangible and go through things instead of slamming into them so.”  After that fun and lovely argument, Danny almost forgot the weirdness of Dr. Pace.

 That is until Lancer introduced the class to a very tall boy with brown hair, tan, freckled skin, and pink eyes.  Pink eyes that were glowing ever so softly. “Hello class, this is Kyle Pace. He’s an exchange student from Pittsburg.”

“Hey there,” Kyle said with a wave, smiling wide enough that everyone could see his canines were much longer and too pointy to be human.  “My last school was Three Rivers so uh I’m kinda not used to this kinda school, so if I’m weird I’m sorry about that.”

“Not a problem, Kyle.”  Lancer patted the large boy on the back.  “Your classmates will be doing their best to help you adjust, I’m sure.”  No one missed the look Lancer gave them, and no one even really considered caring.  Danny, Sam and Tucker were all staring at Kyle with varying degrees of subtly. “There’s a seat between Danny Fenton and Dash Baxter over there, Mr. Pace.  I’ll make sure you get a study guide to catch you up on where we are.”

Kyle nodded and plopped down in his seat, bookbag set down next to him, and the class moved on as though this were normal.  Well, Wes was fuming at the back of the class but no one paid him any attention.  He looked like he was paying attention, and after a while, Danny decided he should do the same, but the glow in Kyle’s eyes and the way Danny’s ghost sense was stuck in his throat, almost alerting him to a ghost but not, messed up his focus even worse than a regular old attack.

When Lunch rolled around, they had a chance to actually talk about it.  “So uh, when Dr. Pace said he had a kid,” Tucker said, “Do you think he meant like after he died?”

“My ghost sense says yes, which is gross to think about, but also kind of an existential crisis going on.”  Danny pushed his food around on his platter, staring at it and through it.  “How the fuck does that even work?”

“Well if Box Lunch,” Sam said with a shudder, “Can exist then maybe… what did he call it?  Bridge Spirits?  Maybe they can happen, ya know, naturally?”

“This validates everyone who wants to fuck Phantom,” Tucker said with a mouth full of meatloaf from home.  Danny punched his arm without looking and took satisfaction in his yelp.  “I’m just sayin.”

“Swallow first, and then - novel idea - don’t say it.”

“I saw him leave algebra with Dash and Dash’s hair isn’t looking so perfectly combed right now,” Tucker said anyway, earning a kick in the shins from Sam.

Danny groaned.  “Can we talk about something else?”

The universe did not agree with their subject of discussion moving away from Kyle, however, as he strode over to their table and plopped down next to Danny.  He had a lunch box filled with clearly homemade food that looked like it was cooked by a chef compared to the lunch meat on Danny’s platter.  He tossed an arm around Danny’s shoulders and gave them all a cheerful, “Hey there!  How’re you guys doing?  I saw your spider backpack and I know appearances aren’t everything but,” he pointed at Sam with a lazy grin, “do you like snakes?”

“Uh, yes?”  Sam looked between Danny and Kyle, likely assessing how dangerous he might be.  “Just not your kind of snake.”

“Pardon?”

“People who hang out with Dash Baxter tend to be just like him.”  Sam folded her arms and scowled, and Tucker rolled his eyes.   Kyle just frowned and looked over at the A lister table, making eye contact with Dash for a moment.

“Only impression I got outta Dash was attractive when he’s not talking, what kinda guy is he?” Sam was all too eager to share that and so was Tucker.  Danny watched as Kyle’s expression grew darker while staring at Dash, eyes beginning to glow brighter until he turned back to the table and covered Tucker’s mouth.  “Aight, an asshole.  Got it. Y’all know that’s all like, illegal, right?  Someone can record him doing this shit and either call the police or threaten it.”

“I mean, we could but then the other A listers would be out for us,” Danny said.

“I dunno what the A list is supposed to be, but I’m betting it’s something really stupid, and I have ta say: can we talk about snakes now?”  Kyle stuffed food in his mouth, and then the conversation about which snakes were cuter, cooler and more dangerous began.  Danny zoned out, stretching his senses to confirm the current of ecto energy under Kyle’s skin and wondered how to bring that up.

Before Danny could ask Kyle if he was possessed or just Like That, Dash Baxter’s voice caught his ear.  “Hey, Kyle, why’re you hangin out with these losers?  You should-” that was as far as Dash got before a pink bubble appeared around him and Kyle turned around to shove the bubble.  It rolled along the floor until it bumped into the A lister table and then popped, leaving Dash to fumble into his seat.  Then Kyle turned back to the table.

“I really want a pet snake, or like even some fish, but Dad doesn’t trust me and Pop thinks that I should learn to be responsible first before I go asking for a pet.  Like, aren’t parents supposed to use pets as a test of responsibility?”

“Some parents think that,” Sam said, her salad finished and her protein shake almost done, “but it’s unfair to put all that on a kid.”

“So,” Tucker said slowly, “everyone is staring at us and I’m kinda wondering if we’re gonna talk about you putting Dash in gay baby jail.”

“Is that weird?”  Kyle raised a brow, and Danny snorted.  “I just really didn’t wanna talk to him if he’s an asshole like y’all said and the bubble popped pretty quick.”  Kyle looked around at the dead silent cafeteria, and his skin began to glow.  “Why are people starin?”

“Because you just blew your cover, ghost!”  Valerie snarled across the cafeteria, and it exploded into chatter.  Kyle flinched at the noise and a bubble appeared around the table that blocked out the noise.

“What the fuck?  What’s going on?”

“Uh, dude, they don’t know about half ghosts.”

“But you’re a bridge spirit too!”

“They don’t know that!  I’ve got a secret identity to keep!”

“I- wow, ok spider-man.  Alright.”  Kyle took a breath and dropped his shield, floating up above the crowd of teens.  “HEY!”  The crowd when slowly quiet as Kyle waved a glowing hand around to get everyone’s attention.  “MY DUDES!  Thanks. So uh, yeah, I’m not sure what y’all think I am, but I can explain pretty easy.”

“Oh I’m certain you can, ghost, but we’re not interested in your lies!”

“Excuse you, I don’t lie anymore than you do.  Anyway, when a living human and a ghost love each other very much-”

“Are you saying your mom or dad banged a ghost?!”  Dale was always so eloquent, it had Danny wondering how he had such bad grades.

“Yeah,” Kyle shrugged, hands stuffed in his pockets.  “I don’t have a Mom though, Dad and Pop just figured out that ghostly physiology is malleable and they wanted a kid.  I’m done talking about my conception now, cause that’s gross, but like, this is a basic thing to understand.”  Kyle floated back down to his seat and crossed his legs.  “I swear I heard at least five girls around here want to start a family with Phantom, and I just gotta wonder: y’all did know that’s possible right?”

Silence eerie as a horror movie washed over the cafeteria.  People processed what they’d been told and some of their minds tripped over themselves trying to do so.  Kyle turned back to Sam and started complaining about pets while chatter erupted around them all, and Danny slammed his head against the table.

[naturaldisasterfanfiction]

37. Part 2

The meeting with Erin is going great but Fenty is playing up so I have to deal with her little panic attack, Erin didn’t mind waiting “sorry” I apologised, walking back into the dining room with Feny in my arm and a bottle in the other “awww it’s ok, oh my god. Look at her, she is so precious. Robyn, oh wow” Erin said, she is in shock cooing over Fenty “to see you on work and mommy mode it’s been an eventful day at the office you know, like I said this was and is a wellbeing to see where you feel with things, to see how we are because your mind, your mind works on overdrive, we have products to last us another two cycles, that is great but to hear the ideas already it’s good. But I don’t want to bombard you” sitting down with Fenty “aww you’re not at all, just to get that normality in my life. To get this work feeling back is great, being in London and just being in the home with nothing but my little family, I felt myself slipping and getting a little lazy. I gained weight, I just got comfortable so it’s fine” Erin is looking behind me “who is the little boy” Erin pointed, looking behind me “hey, what is wrong?” Aeko followed me in this room “Penny not there” he pointed behind him staring at Fenty as he made his way closer “this is” I dragged out not sure on what to say, but in my heart I know what to say. Aeko pushed the chair a little to sit down “it’s my step son” nodding my head in agreement to my answer “is he?” looking at Erin “yeah, he is staying with us for a while” Erin cooed out “hi there” she waved at him “Bobyn, Bobyn” Aeko patted my arm “yes” looking over at him as I uncapped Fenty’ bottle “where my dad gone? He gone” he is asking now “he is coming back, don’t worry about it” placing the bottle between Fenty’ lips “I feed her, please” he wants to take care of all of the time, he is such an angel “you can tonight, not now baby ok?” he nodded his head “say hi to Erin, she said hello” Erin is smiling at Aeko “hello” his sweet little voice.

I have been listening to Erin for the past twenty minutes or so, speaking on the new formula we about to put out with the foundation and I don’t think I have heard a single thing, first of all Fenty decided to play up and be sick right on the floor and then she cried and now she did the same thing “I got it” looking behind me “aww thank you baby, don’t step in it” taking the tissue from Aeko “who gave you this” I wonder who he is asking, or where he is getting it from “from moi, hey Erin girl. I was like why he wants paper towels again, what is happening” Jah walked into the room “Penny mess, look” Aeko pointed out “I can see that, shall I take her while you finish this off. She seems to be playing up, girl. This is your first meeting little miss Fenty and you are playing up” pushing the chair back “she has drank her milk but also was sick but she should be ok, just put her to sleep for me” passing Fenty to Jah “I will, come here you!” Jah gasped, he can deal with her dramatic self, making this mess for me. Crouching down “remember when I didn’t have this issue” I laughed to myself “we all go through that stage, welcome to motherhood. Wait till she is a toddler and is making the most noise and mess on top of that” I don’t think I am looking forward to that “you don’t want to go with Jah? You can help him with Fenty?” Aeko shook his head.

Aeko has literally taken over, he is sat on my lap now “I try please” Aeko asked Erin, laughing at him with his hand out “Bobyn try, I try” chuckling at him being dead serious “your dad won’t be impressed trying foundation on you know, I think this will be a little too dark for you but we can try it” grabbing the concealer bottle instead, turning his hand to put a little on the back of his hand “now we rub it in” slowly rubbing in the concealer with my finger instead “and there you are” smiling at him, letting his hand go as he stared at the back of his hand all confused “he seems so close to you, this is so sweet. How is married life for you? I mean when I read it, I wasn’t shocked, but I was so happy for you, I was like she has been waiting for so long for that moment. We have known each other for years and this is the moment for you” I cooed out “it’s challenging, it has its moments, but I love it. I love that I have my own family, I think it bothers others more then it bothers me with the face I am a step mother and it’s different for me but, I don’t care. The love these kids give it’s a feeling you can’t describe. Yes I am not their mother, but you can’t amount to the love they give off, I won’t blame the kids at all. But I am happy, but it has its moments” I shrugged “like every marriage, been married six years and I am still asking my husband to put the toiler seat down, some battles you will never win” I laughed out “oh my god, it’s like I am asking to do one thing for Fenty skin for me, it’s always yes I am doing it. It’s on this invisible list but he has time to hide in his games room” Erin laughed “men are terrible creatures, asking them to do a thing is like what is the point even. I did read that Chris is on the board, and I read for Fenty Beauty, I was thinking huh? Ok this is a misprint, but they got it wrong” nodding my head laughing “I saw that, even I got confused. I wouldn’t want him to touch this side at all” imagine that.

Erin’ meeting was productive, so to say. It took longer then it should have but that was because of Fenty “you not going to play today? You want to come with me?” Aeko is like my second shadow, something Chris should be here for, but I guess not “I help” smiling at him “that is ok, you can help. Shall we remove that makeup from your hand, my shit is waterproof” I winked at him and he got ever so shy “let’s go baby” I should have some remover downstairs “Robbie, where is Chris?” my mom asked “You know where he is, not here clearly” my mom is displeased a little, I know with the look on her face “Aeko, go and find Mel and say to her you want your shoes, we can go outside” he needs to do something “you wait here?” Aeko asked “you know I will be” he ran off “you are being so calm that Chris is not here, even for the nights. He should be here Robbie” my mom is right “because I am not going to make him stay here when he wants to be in that home mom, he wants to be there then let him. I said if I hear something stupid then he will hear it” I can’t just force him to be here “I like that little boy, I have no issues but he should be with his dad. He should be making the effort Robyn; he is left you like this. What if we weren’t here? Tell me this Robbie, I have no issues with him but with no father or mother here of his own he shouldn’t be here and leaving this on you, you are still anew mother and need that help. It’s wrong when you are trying your best in this, he should be helping you. This is his son too” nodding my head in agreement “mom, I understand. Trust me I do; he doesn’t bother me. He just wants the attention his fucked up parents don’t give, if his dad wants to use this time to play with his friends, so be it. He is a grown adult” I just don’t understand what my mom wants me to do

“Oh my god, Aeko. Look at this!” Jen my saviour has bought her sons to play with him, I am so happy because it saves me from going outside with him “say hi to auntie Riri!” I opened my arms as they both ran into me, crouching down to them “hi auntie, we missed you!!” Aaron said “I missed you too babies, aunties babies. And guess what?” hugging them close “mom said you had a baby” Aaron said “I did, I had a baby. I can’t wait for you to meet her but I want you to be both so kind, like you both are” moving back from them “this is Aeko” Aeko pouted his lips and put his head down “what is wrong Aeko” he doesn’t seem happy “awww my pumpkin pie, what is wrong?” Jen said “look, it’s Jen, they come to see you Aeko and play. They are nice” I think he is just shy “I got that” Justus pointed at Aeko’ PJ mask watch “see, he like PJ too. You will be ok” he needs to learn how to play with others “you going to shy him your things?” Aeko lifted his head “auntie, who is this?” Aaron asked, “this is Aeko, this is my step son” Aaron is inquisitive “how?” he is confused “because I married his dad, that is why. I want you to be extra nice to him ok?” I pray these boys so be nice to each other “I will auntie, come on let’s go outside” Aeko seems a little unconfident “it’s ok, they are nice” this boy is not feeling it “I will be with you, come on you!” Jen said, she won’t have no for an answer so she will take him.

Stifling out a yawn as my phone pinged in my lap, checking my phone and seeing it’s Chris, he really text me after this like I am not his wife. The phone unlocked, reading the text ‘How are you and the kids?’ that is nice, like honestly. I can’t even be bothered to text him back so I will call him instead, also his text was a little lacklustre for me, also late as hell. I am not going to be on his case, I will in no way shout either “hello” he answered fairly quick “am I not gummy bear anymore? Just hello?” I said, he laughed “yeah, just I know I text late so I was preparing for the backlash” he knows, he is not stupid “now why would I do that, not like you left me to fend for myself. Never that” I sarcastically said, I think I can hear music in the background, and I can bet a little money on them idiots being there with added females “I need to go, Fenty is crying. Ring me back in a half hour” I lied, disconnecting the call. I think I am going to pay him a visit instead, I mean that is my husbands home and I can do what the fuck I like, I trust him because if I didn’t then I wouldn’t let him stay there alone “Melissa!” I shouted getting up from the couch “Melissa Forde!” I shouted again, where is that woman “why are you shouting?” she came into the living room “we are going to Chris’ home, ready?” Mel laughed out “I am always ready but is there a reason for it? Please don’t tell me?” shaking my head “no, just a little curtsy call. Welfare check, mother can you watch Fenty for me and Aeko. We will be quick, promise” I will literally be back, he lives not far from here. It is literally ten minute drive which is convenient.

I laughed to myself, to think Chris wanted me to stay here. The gates are opened for the world to walk in, he doesn’t care when he’s with those bums and it annoys me because anything could happen to him “we fighting?” Mel asked as we got out of the car “not so much fighting it’s just a welfare visit, mind you I don’t know any codes for this home” closing the SUV door “no need, the garage doors open” Mel pointed out, I know that way. Chris took me this way when I was pregnant and I came to visit him, the baby shower was the cutest thing “can’t believe these bitches are alive still” his dogs are just staring at me in their cages “not barking today” I said walking into the garage “Rihanna” some guy said, I don’t know him. Looking over at him and proceeded to walk in, I do not like this at all. The whole set up is like come and rob me, it’s stupid and unsecure, he knows who he is and how people could just do anything to him. I remember that ugly ass voice, his big mouth just doing the most “Chris said no girls, and I mean technically she is dating you and she is a friend of a friend, that bought along another friend, and that friend, so on” he started laughing, turning the corner and seeing his ugly ass in my husbands kitchen “what do we owe the pleasure of you being here” Hood half shouted, there I girls here but I heard what he said “where is Chris?” I asked “outside, you want a drink?” he offered “if I wanted a drink in this home I would get it myself” walking off to find him, the home is deadly quiet now, nobody is speaking now that I have come which I think is good, they are shook.

I don’t expect much from Chris, he is of course painting some space of his home “gummy drop” he smiled climbing down to me, he is more happier in person then on the phone “I am not happy” I added “that doesn’t shock me, but why?” Chris placed his arms around me “your home is open, I just came into the home without any security, without a care. Why?” looking up at him “I did close it?” shaking my head “and there girls here” I added on top of that “I have been here, I asked them to leave. They were being disrespectful, they trying to say I am whipped by you and all that shit. Just got me angry, not happy so that happened. I uhm, just been doing this?” nodding my head “all night yeah?” he isn’t sleep clearly “perhaps, but I just wanted you to stay here and stuff, I am just being hard headed now but I miss you” he can be so hard headed at times “you’re annoying, just come back after you finished playing here. Tell them to go, you are better than them Chris. You really are, you are not on their level anymore Chris” Chris knows I am right “I am super happy to see you though” I grinned, I know he is.