#so you’re like um hey that���s fucked up and sometimes a crime?

[screaminglygay]

Hop on.

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: when your brother’s bike breaks down, you turn to natasha´s shop for help, what starts as a simple repair leads to a whirlwind of teasing banter. sometimes, fixing a bike can lead to mending more than just machinery.

warnings: bike accident, but nothing horrible, then just FLUFF!!, mild teasing, brother being an ass hehe

word count: 8.9k

an: i wrote this a while ago, but i still really like this one a lot, so i hope you´ll do too:) also yes, i don´t know anything about bikes:D

"What can I help you with?" The receptionist asks, but noticing you´re worried look right away.

"Um… my brother, he- had an accident," you mumble out to her.

"Can you tell me your name, miss?" She looks down at her computer.

"(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," you show her your ID.

The lady gives you the ID back, makes a few clicks and looks back at you, "he is in the room number seven."

You basically sprint there, slamming the door open, thankfully your brother was the only person in there. But the sight of him made you confused, he was sitting on the bed, smiling as usual, just few bruises on his face and a bandage oh his leg.

"Hey, sis," he makes the peace sign, while your heartbeat is going milions per seconds.

"Hey, sis?! Hey, sis?! What the hell?!" You walk up to him and smack him.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He scratches his head.

"What was- are you kidding me?" You pull out your phone, "25 minutes ago, I got this message from your friend: 'hey, don´t freak out, but your brother is going to the hospital, bike accident.' I rush here, committing like thirty-seven crimes…and you´re here smiling and saying 'hey, sis?!'"

"Oh… Kevin´s idiot," he shakes his head.

"No, you are! What the hell happened?!" You move your hands around.

"Can you just chill for a second? Jeez." He stratches, "We were riding, normally, but then one of the cars cut me off and I slipped. I´m fine, but bike was pretty fucked up." As he tells you the story of what´ve happened, you scan his face, obivously you´re glad he is okay, but deep down you´re angry that he still rides that thing.

"Are you sure you´re okay? You look down on his leg.

"Yeah, nothing that didn´t happened before. But uh… I need ride back home." He shifts in his position, even when he tries to mask it, he is still in some visible pain.

"I figured. Stay here, I´ll get someone…"

After two hours he is finally let out of the hospital, you help him into the passenger seat, careful not to jar his injured leg. As you close the door, you mutter, “I swear, one day that bike is going to be the death of you.”

He rolls his eyes as you start the car. “You worry too much. It’s not like I haven’t crashed before.”

“Yeah, and you’re still riding that death trap.” You grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary. “Why do you even keep that thing? It’s not like you can ride it anytime soon.”

He winces as he shifts in his seat, not meeting your gaze. “I just… I need it fixed, okay? I’ll be careful next time. Can you help me with that… pleaseee?

You let out a sigh. “You’re lucky you didn’t end up worse. Fine, I’ll take care of it, but you’re not driving that bike again until I’m sure it won’t fall apart under you.”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” he says, softer than before, like he knows you mean well even when you’re pissed. He’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “You know, there’s a mechanic not far from here, Red Guardian.”

You nod, making a mental note. “I’ll check it out. But you, mister, are on bed rest.”

"Aren´t you three years younger than me?"

You glance at him, "and yet I´m the smarter one, so bed it is."

“Whatever you say, mom.”

...

Two days later you finally arrive at Red Guardin, a place that looks far more organized than you expected for a bike shop. The sign is simple, but the place has a charm, just like you’d heard. You park your car and walk inside, the smell of oil and metal hitting you as you step through the door.

A woman with fiery red braided hair is leaning over a motorcycle, hands deep in the engine. She doesn’t look up as she says, “Be with you in a sec.”

You clear your throat, trying not to be too obvious as you check her out. “Uh, take your time.”

She straightens up, wiping her hands on a rag before turning to face you. Her green eyes meet yours, and she gives you a small, confident smirk. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here about my brother’s bike,” you start, but she cuts you off.

“Your brother? The guy who got cut off and ended up in the hospital?” She chuckles lightly, shaking her head. “Yeah, I heard about him. Of what I´ve heard that bike’s a mess, but there is nothing I can´t fix.”

You blink, a little taken aback. “You already know about it?”

“Word travels fast in this town,” Natasha replies, that teasing smile still on her lips. “Plus, your brother’s been in here before. He’s not exactly subtle.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course. He didn’t tell me that part.”

“So, where’s the patient?” Natasha smiles as she takes some gloves.

You fumble with your words for a moment, feeling a little awkward. “Uh, it’s in my car. Or, well, in the truck bed."

You lead her outside to where you´re parked. Natasha walks around it, examining the damage with a critical eye. She’s quiet for a moment, then looks over at you. “Well, the frame’s a little bent, and the engine’s definitely seen better days. But it’s not totaled. I can fix this.”

You nod, relieved. “Thank God. I had no idea what to do. I mean, I know a bike has wheels, an engine, and all that, but that’s where my knowledge ends.”

Natasha gives you a teasing smile. “Good thing you came to the right place. I’ll need to take it inside and get a closer look. Mind helping me unload it?”

You quickly agree, and the two of you start unstrapping the bike. Natasha shows you where to hold it and how to carefully lower it down. As you work together, she starts explaining what she’s looking for.

“See this here?” she says, pointing to a section of the frame. “It’s bent, but not too badly. I’ll have to realign it, though. And this,” she taps the engine, “will need a rebuild. Your brother’s lucky it didn’t crack.”

You listen intently, trying to follow along even though most of what she’s saying goes over your head. Natasha notices your blank expression and laughs softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. By the time I’m done, it’ll be good as new.”

You can’t help but smile at how confident she is. “Thanks," you look down for a name tag, but there isn´t one,

"It´s Natasha," she smiles.

You nod, "Natasha, I really appreciate it. My brother would lose his mind if he thought he couldn’t ride again.”

She gives you a quick wink. “No problem. I’m used to fixing things, especially when they mean a lot to someone.”

There’s a warmth in her voice that makes your heart skip a beat. You swallow nervously, trying to focus on the bike and not the way Natasha is looking at you with that confident, playful smirk.

You´re glad that you found the right place.

…

As you pull up to your house, the sun already dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard. As you step inside, your brother is lounging on the couch, leg propped up on a stack of pillows, flipping through channels on the TV. He looks up as you walk in, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“Well?” he asks, cutting straight to the point. “Is it fixable? Am I ever going to ride again?”

You set your bag down and kick off your shoes, feeling the day’s tension start to melt away. “Natasha said it’s fixable, but it’ll take some time. The frame’s bent, and the engine needs a rebuild. But she’s confident she can get it back in shape.” You repeat what she told you earlier.

He visibly relaxes, “Natasha is fixing it? Good. I was worried it’d be a total loss."

“Yeah, well, you got lucky,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the doorway. “You’re not exactly gentle on that thing.”

He scoffs. “It’s a bike, not a porcelain doll. It’s meant to be ridden hard.”

You roll your eyes. “And that’s why you’re here, with a busted leg, instead of out riding. You should really be more careful.”

He shoots you a teasing grin. “You sound like mom agan.”

“Someone has to, since you clearly don’t listen at all.”

He chuckles, then winces as he adjusts his leg. “Okay, okay, point taken. But when it will be ready?”

Your expression softening. “Natasha said she’ll have it back to you in no time. She knows what she’s doing. It’ll be like new—maybe even better.”

He sighs, relief washing over his features. “Great-" you cut him off.

"You´ll take it easy when you get back on the road. No more stunts, no more pushing your luck. You got off easy this time, but next time you might not be so lucky.”

He rolls his eyes but nods. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful.”

“I mean it!” you say, your tone firm but caring. “I don’t want to get another call like that.”

His teasing expression fades, and he nods more seriously. “I know. I’ll be careful. Promise.”

You give him a small smile, reaching over to mess up his hair. “Good. Now, get some rest."

"I will, but can you promise you will check on the bike, when you can?" He gives you the best innocent look he possibly can.

"I will check it out tomorrow after work." You nod.

“Thanks, sis. I owe you one.”

“Yeah, you do,” you reply, “and don’t forget it.”

As you walk away, you hear him mutter, “I won’t!”

…

The next day, you find yourself back at the shop, unable to shake the feeling of curiosity or maybe it’s something else entirely, that pulls you there. The familiar scent of motor oil and metal greets you as you step inside. Natasha is already hard at work, leaning over a bike with her back to you, her hands moving expertly as she adjusts something under the engine. You can´t help, but stare. Her toned hands are someting you can definetly look at forever.

She glances up as you approach, a smirk playing on her lips when she sees you basically drooling. “Back again? You know, most people don’t check in this often. Are you here to make sure I’m actually working?”

You snap back out of your thoughts, shaking your head. “No, nothing like that. My brother’s just obsessed with that bike. He’s convinced it needs constant check-ups or it’ll fall apart. Honestly, he probably cares about it more than is healthy.”

Natasha straightens up, wiping her hands on a rag as she walks over to you, a teasing glint in her eye. “Sounds like a lot of work, keeping up with all those concerns. You know, I could make it easier for you…”

“Oh?” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “And how exactly would you do that?”

She leans casually against the counter, that familiar smirk tugging at her lips. “I could give you my number. That way, you can check in on the bike whenever you or your brother want. Get updates straight from the source.”

You laugh, feeling a little flustered by how smooth she is. “Right, for the bike.”

“Of course, for the bike,” Natasha says, her voice dripping with playful innocence, though the mischievous sparkle in her eyes tells you she’s enjoying this. She pulls her phone from her pocket, handing it to you. “Here, you can add your number.”

You take her phone, typing in your contact details, and then you pause. Instead of handing it back, you grin and ring yourself right away.

Natasha chuckles, clearly impressed. She takes her phone back and glances at the screen. Her expression shifts into one of amused surprise when she sees what you’ve entered. “Finally, I get to know your name. Pleasure to meet you officially, (Y/N).”

You feel your cheeks warm slightly as she says your name, her voice low and smooth.

She grins, leaning in just a bit closer, her voice dropping to a softer tone. “Well, I like to take my time with the important things. So tell you brother it will take some time, just to make sure his bike is ready for his awful riding."

You swallow, trying not to get too flustered under her gaze. “I´ll tell him that." You nod.

With one last shared look, you turn to leave, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves. As you step out of the shop, your phone buzzes. You glance down to see a new text from Natasha: “Just in case you need another excuse to visit. See you soon, (Y/N).”

You can’t help but smile as you tuck your phone back into your pocket, already looking forward to the next visit.

...

Over the next few days, you find yourself returning to the shop more often than you’d care to admit. At first, it’s just to check on the bike, of course, but then you don´t even care to hide, that there is one more, bigger reason to come into the shop.

One afternoon, she catches you watching her as she tightens a bolt on the engine. “You know, you’re here enough that I should put you to work.”

You laugh. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

She gives you her usual smirk. “I could show you. How about a crash course in motorcycle basics?” Before you can protest, she’s grabbing a helmet off the wall and tossing it to you. “Here, put this on.”

“Wait, what? I don’t even know how to ride.”

“Don’t worry,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “I’ll take care of you.”

"I- won´t this get you into a trouble?" You frown a bit.

"My dad owns the shop, I think I´ll be fine." You feel your cheeks heat up as you put on the helmet. Natasha swings a leg over the bike, patting the seat behind her. “Hop on.”

You hesitate for just a moment before climbing on, wrapping your arms around her waist. She revs the engine, the sound vibrating through you as she takes off, the wind whipping past your face. She’s almost intoxicating at everything she does.

When she finally stops back in the parking lot next to the shop, your heart is racing for more reasons than one. Natasha turns to look at you over her shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Not bad for a first ride, huh?”

You can’t help but smile. “Not bad at all.”

Natasha swings her leg over the bike, smoothly dismounting and turning to face you. Ugh the stupid smirk on her pretty face. “You handled yourself pretty well back there. I think you’ve got some natural talent.” She helps you take off the helmet.

You laugh, still feeling the rush of the wind and the hum of the engine. “I was just trying not to fall off. But I’ll take the compliment.”

She steps closer, close enough that you can feel her parfume mixed with oil from the repairs. “You know, riding isn’t just about holding on. It’s about trust. Trusting the bike, trusting yourself… and maybe trusting the person in front of you.”

Your breath catches slightly at her words, and you realize she’s no longer just talking about riding. You meet her eyes, and there’s a tension between you, a pull that’s hard to ignore. “I guess I did trust you back there.”

Natasha’s smirk widens, and she tilts her head, studying you with a gaze that feels like it’s seeing right through you. “Good. I like that.”

You try to steady your breathing, but it’s difficult with her standing so close. “Do you do this with all your clients?”

She chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “I don’t take just anyone for a ride, (Y/N). Consider yourself special.”

The way she says your name makes your heart skip a beat. There’s a moment of a silence between you, making you aware of how close she is, how her eyes seem to linger on yours, searching for something.

Natasha’s gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment, and your breath hitches. “You know,” she says softly, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “there’s a lot more I could show you. If you’re interested.”

Your pulse quickens, a mix of nerves and anticipation coursing through you. The air between you feels charged, every second stretching out as you weigh her words. You know she’s definetly not just talking about bikes anymore, and the realization sends a thrill through you.

“I think I’m interested,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha’s smile deepens, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “Good.” She steps even closer, her presence almost overwhelming now. “Because I don’t do half-measures, (Y/N). If you’re in, you’re all in.”

You feel a nervous flutter in your stomach, but it’s not enough to hold you back. “I think I can handle that.”

Her eyes darken slightly, her voice taking on a more serious note. “Are you sure? Because once we start, I don’t plan on stopping.”

The intensity of her words makes your heart race, but you don’t back down. Instead, you meet her gaze head-on, the challenge in her eyes only spurring you on. “I’m sure, Natasha.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves, the tension between you almost unbearable. Then, as if making a decision, Natasha leans in, her hand brushing lightly against your arm. The touch is brief but electric, sending a jolt through you.

“Glad to hear it,” she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin

Before you can respond, Natasha finally pulls back, though the look in her eyes tells you that this is far from over. She glances at the bike, then back at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You should head home. I wouldn’t want to keep you out too late… this time.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding. “Right. I should… probably get going.”

“Probably,” she agrees, though there’s a teasing edge to her voice that makes it clear she wouldn’t mind if you stayed longer.

As you walk back to your car, Natasha watches you with that same unreadable expression, like she’s already planning the next move. You reach your car door, pausing to glance back at her. “So… I’ll come check on the bike tomorrow same time?”

Natasha crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe of the shop, her smile turning into something almost predatory. “I´m counting on it, (Y/N).”

You give her a small smile in return, feeling that same mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside you. As you start the car and pull away, you can’t help but glance at her going inside the shop once more.

The cool night air feels refreshing on your flushed cheeks as you step out of the car going back home, the smile on your face almost impossible to hide. As you approach the front door, you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. But the excitement from the evening is still buzzing inside you, making it hard to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

When you walk inside, your brother is sprawled out on the couch again, a half-empty bag of chips beside him and a game paused on the TV. He looks up as you close the door behind you, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “You’re home late,” he remarks, his voice dripping with curiosity. “What’s got you all smiley?”

You pause, trying to wipe the grin off your face, but it’s no use. “Oh, nothing,” you say, attempting nonchalance as you shrug out of your jacket and hang it up. “Just, you know… checking on your bike.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your casual tone. “Uh-huh. And since when does checking on my bike make you look like you just won the lottery?”

You shoot him a look, but it’s playful, and he knows it. “Since today, apparently.”

He narrows his eyes at you, sitting up a bit straighter. “Okay, spill. What happened?”

You hesitate for a moment, debating how much to tell him. But then you decide it’s harmless enough. “Well… I rode it, you know a test ride I assume.”

He blinks, clearly not expecting that. “Wait, what? You rode my bike? The same bike you’ve always refused to even sit on?”

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah. Natasha let me try it out.”

His expression shifts, realization dawning as a smirk spreads across his face. “Natasha, huh? So, you finally decided to take the plunge… because she asked?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the blush that creeps up your neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, sure it’s not,” he says, leaning back with a smug grin. “You always said no to me, no matter how many times I tried to get you on that bike. But one pretty redhead asks, and suddenly you’re Evel Knievel.”

You try to play it cool, but you can’t help the smile that slips out. “Well, she made a good case. And besides, you know how scared I am.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, so scared until Natasha Romanoff turns on the charm. I see how it is.”

You grab a throw pillow and toss it at him, but he catches it easily, still grinning. “Shut up.”

He throws the pillow back, missing you by an inch. “Hey, no judgment here. I’m just saying, I knew something was up when you walked in all smiley. I didn’t expect it to be this, though.”

You shake your head, trying to suppress your own laughter. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yep,” he says proudly, then adds with a wink, “So, when’s the next ‘check-up’ on my bike?”

You roll your eyes again, but you can’t help the small smile that lingers on your lips. “Goodnight, dork,” you say, turning to head toward your room.

“Goodnight, bike thief,” he calls after you, his voice filled with playful teasing.

As you close your bedroom door behind you, you lean against it for a moment, your smile growing even wider. Just as you’re about to lay in bed and snuggle with your blanket, your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a notification.

You reach over and grab it, your heart skipping a beat when you see who the message is from.

Natasha: Hope you didn’t get into trouble for coming home so late. Wouldn’t want to get you grounded ;)

You can’t help but smile at the playful tone in her text.

You quickly type out a reply: No, just had to endure a bit of teasing. My brother thinks he’s hilarious.

You hit send, still smiling as you stare at your phone, waiting to see if she’ll reply. It doesn’t take long before your phone buzzes again.

Natasha: Sounds like he’s got a good sense of humor. He’s probably just jealous you rode his bike.

Your smile widens as you think about her words, and the memory of the ride flashes in your mind. The wind, the speed, the way Natasha’s laughter had echoed in the air, it had been more fun than you ever expected. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you type your response.

You type out: Maybe. But I think it was more because of the company than the ride.

There’s a pause, and for a moment, you wonder if you were too forward. But then your phone buzzes again, and Natasha’s reply makes your heart flutter.

Natasha: I was hoping you’d say that. Maybe next time, we can make the ride even more interesting.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your giddy excitement in check. There’s something intoxicating about the way she flirts, the way she effortlessly mixes teasing with sincerity. You decide to match her energy, your fingers dancing across the screen as you craft your response.

You: I’m all for interesting;)

A few seconds pass before her next message arrives.

Natasha: Challenge accepted, (Y/N). Sweet dreams.

You grin at the screen, feeling a warm, fuzzy sensation spread through your chest.

You: Goodnight, Natasha.

You set your phone down and curl up under the covers, still smiling as you think about her last text. The excitement from the evening lingers as you drift off to sleep. Whatever happens next, you’re ready for it.

…

A couple of days have passed since you lastly check up on the bike, some work got stuck up and you weren´t able to see Natasha as much as you´d like. Thanfuly the texting between you and Natasha has only gotten more frequent, filled with light-hearted banter, playful teasing, and the occasional flirty remark.

Then, one evening, just as you’re settling down after dinner, your phone buzzes with a new message. You pick it up, your heart doing that now familiar little flip when you see Natasha’s name on the screen.

Natasha: So, I was thinking… how about we do something that doesn’t involve bikes this weekend?

You blink at the screen, your pulse quickening. It’s not exactly a date invitation, but it’s close enough that your mind immediately starts racing.

You: What do you have in mind?

Her reply comes almost instantly.

Natasha: I know a nice spot for dinner. How does Friday sound?

Your stomach flips with excitement. This is definitely a date. You type back before you can overthink it.

You: Friday sounds perfect.

Natasha: Great. I’ll pick you up at 7.

You stare at the screen, a grin spreading across your face. A date. With Natasha. Suddenly, Friday can’t come fast enough.

…

When Friday finally arrives, you’re a bundle of nerves and excitement. By late afternoon, you’re standing in front of your closet, pulling out outfits and discarding them almost as quickly. Nothing seems right - too casual, too dressy, not “you” enough. You groan in frustration, tossing yet another dress onto the bed.

“Uh… what’s going on in here?” your brother’s voice cuts through your frantic search, and you turn to see him leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

"Shouldn´t you be in bed?" You look at his leg.

He shakes his head, "what´s all of this?" Your brother nods towards the mess in your room.

“Nothing,” you mutter, but your flushed cheeks and the mess of clothes around you betray the truth.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he says, hopping into the room and picking up a discarded top. “Who are you getting all dressed up for?”

You hesitate, then sigh, realizing there’s no use hiding it. “Natasha invited me to dinner. She’s picking me up in an hour.”

His eyes widen in surprise, then narrow as a grin spreads across his face. “Natasha? Oooo (Y/N) has a date, (Y/N) has a date!"

You nod, biting your lip as you rifle through your clothes again. “Yeah. So, I need to find something that says ‘date,’ but not ‘trying too hard.’”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying this. “Wow, you must really like her if you’re this worked up.”

You huff, grabbing a simple but flattering top that you haven’t worn in a while. “Maybe I do. But it’s just… I don’t know, I want it to be perfect, you know?”

He watches you for a moment, then his teasing demeanor softens. “You’ll look great, no matter what you wear. Just be yourself, and she’ll be into it.”

You pause, then smile gratefully at him. “Thanks.”

"But don´t wear that," he points at the top you´re holding, "take the black shirt over there." He chuckles.

You roll your eyes, but to be honest you´re really glad, that you have your brother there, to ease your nerves. When you look in the mirror, you feel a little more confident. You can do this.

Right on time, there´s a buzz from your phone. You grab your purse, take a deep breath, and head downstairs. Your brother, ever the nosy one, is already at the window, peeking through the curtains. “Your ride’s here,” he says, smirking. “And I gotta say, she cleans up nice.”

You roll your eyes at him but feel your pulse quicken as you reach the door. Sure enough, when you step outside, Natasha is waiting for you, leaning casually against a car. But tonight, she’s swapped out her usual work clothes for something a little more polished - dark jeans, a fitted leather jacket over a crisp shirt, and boots that complete the look. The sight of her takes your breath away.

“Wow,” you manage to say as you walk up to her. “It’s nice to see you in something other than grease-stained coveralls.”

Natasha grins, her eyes sweeping over you appreciatively. “You look pretty well yourself. But don’t get too used to this, I’m usually more comfortable getting my hands dirty.”

You chuckle, feeling the tension ease a bit. “I like both looks.”

She steps closer, her gaze warm as it meets yours. “Good to know. Ready for dinner?”

“Definitely,” you reply nervously.

As she opens the passenger door for you, she suddenly glances over your shoulder and smirks. “Looks like we have an audience.”

You glance back to see your brother peeking out from behind the curtains, grinning like an idiot. He gives you a thumbs up, then waves cheekily at Natasha, who waves back with a teasing smile.

“Sorry about him,” you say, feeling your cheeks heat up as you climb into the car. “He’s… enthusiastic.”

Natasha just laughs as she slides into the driver’s seat. “He’s alright. At least he approves.”

“Yeah, well, he’s probably just happy I’m not yelling at him for riding that bike,” you reply with a grin.

As Natasha starts the car and pulls away from the house, she glances over at you, her voice taking on a playful tone. “Guess I’ll just have to make sure this date is worth the teasing you’re going to get when you get home.”

You meet her gaze, feeling the spark between you light up again. “I’m sure it will be.”

Natasha drives you to a cozy restaurant that you’ve never been to before. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t try too hard but still manages to be effortlessly charming. She leads you to a table by the window, where the view of the city lights adds a romantic touch to the evening. After you’re both seated, Natasha gives the server a nod, clearly a regular here, and within moments, two glasses of wine are placed in front of you.

“Do you come here often?” you ask, taking a sip.

“Every now and then,” Natasha replies with a shrug. “It’s one of those hidden gems. Not too crowded, good food, great wine. Figured it’d be a good spot to… get to know each other better.”

You smile, appreciating her thoughtfulness. “It’s perfect. And I agree, it’s definitely got a vibe.”

Natasha leans back in her chair, her gaze settling on you. “So, what else should I know about you, besides the fact that you’re fiercely protective of your brother and apparently a quick learner when it comes to riding bikes?”

You laugh, feeling a little more at ease. “Well, I don’t usually make a habit of riding bikes. That was… a first for me.”

Her eyes glint with amusement. “I’m honored to be your first, then.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck but decide to match her playful tone. “What about you? I know you’re amazing with bikes, but what else is there to know about Natasha Romanoff?”

She takes a sip of her wine, her expression thoughtful. “Well, I wasn’t always a mechanic. I’ve had a few different jobs over the years, but I’ve always liked working with my hands. There’s something satisfying about taking something broken and making it whole again.”

“Did you grow up around bikes?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Sort of,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips, "my father worked on bikes since I can remeber, but I learned a lot on my own, picked up skills along the way and after some years I was kinda stuck with it in his shop."

You nod, sensing there’s more to her story than she’s letting on, but you don’t push. “I get that. I’ve never been big into them, but I can see the appeal. The way you talked about them, showed me around your shop… it made me see them differently.”

Natasha’s gaze softens, and for a moment, the teasing edge in her eyes fades. “Less scary? I’m glad I could share that with you. I don’t usually open up about that stuff with just anyone.”

You nod, feeling comfortable and curious about discovering who Natasha really is, beyond the confident, flirty exterior.

“So,” Natasha says, breaking the silence with a smirk, “I have to ask… what made you say yes to this? I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but still…”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re definitely confident, I’ll give you that. But honestly? It’s because you’re… different. Not what I expected, in a good way.”

Her smirk softens into a genuine smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I was hoping I didn’t scare you off with the whole ‘let’s ride a bike together’ thing.”

“Not at all,” you say, meeting her gaze. “In fact, I think that’s what intrigued me the most. You challenge me, in a way that’s exciting. And I like that.”

Natasha holds your gaze, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. “Good,” she says quietly. “Because I like it too.”

As the evening progresses, with ordered food, the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about your lives, your families, your dreams - sharing stories that are both funny and revealing. Natasha opens up about her past, hinting at the difficulties she faced growing up, while you share some of your own challenges. There’s a comfort in the way you can both be honest with each other, even if not every detail is fully revealed.

At one point, the conversation turns to your brother, and Natasha leans in, clearly curious. “So, what’s the deal with you and your brother? You two seem pretty close.”

You smile fondly. “We are. He’s a pain sometimes, but he’s my best friend. We’ve been through a lot together, and he’s always had my back.”

Natasha nods, her expression softening. “Sounds like you’ve got a good thing going. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have that kind of bond.”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m grateful for him. And it looks like he likes you, so."

Natasha grins, the playful spark returning to her eyes. 'Well, that’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side, though I think a 50% voucher to the shop might earn me some bonus points with him.

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Don´t worry, you’re in his good books. You ride a bike and you know everything about it, plus the voucher sounds amazing. Trust me, I´m the one who is on thin line here. He’s already convinced I’ve got a crush on you anyways, so…” You talk faster than you think.

Natasha arches an eyebrow, leaning closer. “And do you?”

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Maybe I do.”

Her smile widens, a mixture of satisfaction and warmth. “I´ll take a maybe." You take another sip of wine, your heart racing in the best way possible.

Eventually, the dinner plates are cleared, and the conversation winds down. Natasha pays the bill, despite your protests, and then you’re back in the car, driving through the quiet streets. The tension that filled the air earlier has softened into something more comfortable, more familiar.

When she pulls up to your house, she turns to you with that mischievous smile that makes your pulse quicken. “So, did I live up to your expectations?”

You smile back, unbuckling your seatbelt. “More than that.”

She chuckles, clearly pleased. “Glad to hear it. I’ll see you soon?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Definitely. And I´m paying next time!”

"I don´t think you will, but it´s cute that you´re figting for it." Natasha chuckles.

Before you can overthink it, you lean in and kiss her cheek, lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of her skin. When you pull back, her eyes are sparkling, and there’s a pleased smile on her lips.

“Goodnight, Natasha,” you say softly, stepping out of the car. Even though the inside of your brain is just a big mess and your body is full of butterlfies that are buzzing through your body.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” she replies, watching every step of yours. You walk up to your front door, you glance back and see your brother peeking through the window again, grinning like a fool. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling as you give him a little wave before stepping inside. As soon as you close the front door your brother is standing in the hallway, arms crossed, with a grin that can only be described as infuriatingly smug.

“So…” he starts, drawing out the word with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How was it?”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool as you kick off your shoes. “How was what?”

He snorts, clearly not buying your act. “The date. You know, the one you spent an hour agonizing over an outfit for? The one with the gorgeous redhead who just dropped you off?”

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you maintain a casual tone. “It was fine. We had dinner, talked… no big deal.”

“Oh, sure,” he says, nodding along in exaggerated agreement. “No big deal at all. That’s why you’ve got that goofy smile plastered on your face.”

You try to suppress your grin, but it’s no use. “Okay, fine. It was… great. Happy?”

“Very,” he says with a smirk. “But I need details. What did you guys talk about? Did she kiss you? Are you two going on another date?”

You laugh, shaking your head at his barrage of questions. “Slow down, detective. We just had a nice dinner and got to know each other better. And yes, we’re definitely going to see each other again.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No kiss, though?”

You pause, remembering the kiss you gave Natasha on the cheek before you got out of the car. “I´m not gonna discuss that with you."

“So that´s a yes. Ha! I knew it!” He points at you triumphantly. “So you like her. Like, really like her.”

“Okay, okay, yes, I do,” you finally admit, exasperated but still smiling. “But you don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

“Oh, but it is a big deal,” he says, leaning against the wall with a grin.

“You’ve never looked this happy after a date. I’m telling you, this Natasha is something special.”

You bite your lip, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Yeah… she really is.”

He watches you for a moment, his teasing grin softening into something more sincere. “I’m glad, you know. You deserve someone who makes you smile like that.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his unexpected seriousness. “Thanks, that means a lot.”

“Don’t get too mushy on me now,” he teases, but there’s warmth in his eyes. “Just… if she hurts you, I’ll break her bike.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I think she’d rather face anything else than that.”

“Damn right,” he says with a chuckle. “But seriously, I’m happy for you, sis. Just remember, I still expect you to help me with my bike.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, waving him off. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.”

“Sure, go dream about your redhead,” he calls after you as you head up the stairs.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you think about Natasha.

…

It’s early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as you arrive at Natasha’s shop. The garage door is partially open, you push it up and step inside, where you find Natasha already at work on a different bike. She’s focused, her hands busy, but when she sees you, her expression brightens instantly.

“Hey, didn’t expect you so early,” she says, wiping her hands on a rag before tossing it aside as always. There’s a faint grease stain on her cheek, adding to her usual rugged charm.

You shrug, trying to appear casual despite the flutter in your chest. “I figured I’d take you up on your offer. Plus, I wanted to see how the bike’s coming along, of course.”

Natasha grins, nodding toward your brother’s bike. “Your brother’s baby is coming together nicely. A few more tweaks, and it’ll be as good as new.”

You walk over to examine the bike, but your attention keeps drifting back to Natasha. The shop is quieter than usual. As Natasha finishes up what she’s doing, you lean against the workbench, watching her with a mix of admiration and something deeper. She catches your gaze and raises an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

You bite your lip, then decide to be bold. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that ride we took… and how you said you don’t take just anyone out.”

She steps closer, intrigued. “Oh yeah? What about it?”

You smile, heart pounding. “I was wondering if that’s still true.”

Natasha chuckles, the sound low and warm, as she moves closer still. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were special, (Y/N). But what’s really on your mind?”

There’s a pause, a moment where you´re trying to calm your thoughts. You look up at her, realizing how close she’s standing, close enough that you can smell the faint scent of oil.

Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you say quietly, “I think you know.”

For a split second, Natasha’s confident facade wavers, replaced by something more vulnerable. But then she smirks, closing the distance between you with a deliberate slowness that sends a thrill through you. “You sure about this?” she asks softly, her voice a low murmur that makes your breath catch.

You nod, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

And with that, Natasha leans in, her lips brushing yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s gentle at first, testing the waters, but the moment your lips meet, it’s like a spark ignites. The kiss deepens, turning into something more intense, filled with all the unspoken tension and longing that’s been building between you this whole time.

Natasha lingers close, her forehead resting gently against yours, a smile playing on her lips. But then she pulls back just slightly, glancing down at her hands still resting on your waist. “I should stop before I get grease on you,” she murmurs, her voice teasing but with a hint of genuine concern.

You glance down at her hands, noticing the faint smudges of oil and grease, and can’t help but laugh softly. “A little grease never hurt anyone,” you reply, feeling warm all over, both from the kiss and from the way she’s looking at you.

Natasha chuckles, giving you a playful grin. “True, but I don’t want to mess up your clothes. You look too good for that.”

You roll your eyes affectionately, feeling a flutter in your chest at the compliment. “So do you, grease and all.”

She smiles wider, the expression softening into something tender as she gently brushes a thumb along your jaw, careful not to smudge any grease. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Is that a good thing?” you tease, leaning into her touch

“Definitely a good thing,” she replies, her voice low and warm. There’s a comfortable silence, where the weight of the moment sinks in. But Natasha, being who she is, breaks it with a playful grin. “So, does this mean I get to take you on another ride?”

You laugh, leaning up to kiss her cheek. “As long as we make some more stops like this one.”

She chuckles, pulling you in for another quick kiss, this one softer, sweeter. “Deal.”

Just as you’re savoring the warmth of the moment, the shop bell jingles, signaling the arrival of a customer. Natasha glances over her shoulder, then back at you with a smirk. “Looks like I’ve got work to do.”

Before she steps away, she gives your waist a quick, playful squeeze, leaning in close to murmur, “I’ll be with you in a second, (Y/N). Don’t go anywhere.” Her tone is teasing, but there’s an underlying softness that makes your heart flutter.

With one last lingering look, she turns to greet the customer, her demeanor shifting effortlessly into professional mode. The customer, a man who looks like he’s in his mid-40s, nods at Natasha, holding a small bike that clearly needs some work. “Morning. Got a bit of a problem with my kid’s bike here.”

“No problem,” Natasha says, flashing him that easy smile. “Let me take a look.”

As she moves to inspect the bike, you can’t help but notice how her muscles flex with every movement, her toned arms and back on full display as she lifts the bike onto the workbench. She handles the machine with practiced ease, her focus entirely on diagnosing the issue. You watch, a little mesmerized by the way she works—effortless, strong, and undeniably attractive.

It’s only when Natasha finishes up with the customer that you realize you’ve been staring the entire time. She thanks the man and sees him off, then turns back to you, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Catching the look on your face, she strides over, a teasing grin spreading across her lips. “Need me to grab you a rag for that drool?” she asks, leaning against the workbench with her arms crossed, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

You feel your cheeks flush with heat, but you manage to keep your composure. “I wasn’t drooling,” you protest, though the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.

Natasha steps closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Sure you weren’t.” She reaches out to gently tap your chin with her finger, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “But just in case, I’ll keep a rag handy for next time.”

You laugh, swatting her hand away lightly. "Ha ha ha, funny."

Natasha grins, clearly pleased with herself. “What can I say? I’m good at observing poeple.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesn’t fade. “You’re also good at being a tease.”

“Guilty as charged,” she admits, her gaze never leaving yours. There’s a moment where the teasing drops, replaced by something softer, more sincere. “But seriously, I like seeing you here.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sudden shift in her tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, her voice quieter now, more intimate. “Makes my day a little better.”

You frown playfully, "just a little better?"

She makes your chest tighten in the best way, "maybe a lot more than a little actually." Before you can respond, Natasha leans in, her breath warm against your cheek as she says, “You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I might have to kiss you again.”

Your breath catches, and you look up at her, eyes wide. “Is that a threat?”

“More like a promise,” she whispers back, her lips curving into a slow smile.

You feel a rush of warmth flood through you, and without thinking, you close the gap, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that’s tender, sweet. Natasha responds immediately, pulling you closer, her hands firm on your waist.

When you finally break apart, you’re both a little breathless, and Natasha’s smile is brighter than ever. “Now that’s how you shut me up,” she jokes, her voice still soft, tinged with affection.

You laugh, feeling light, like you’re floating. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out to see a message from your brother: “Hey, need a hand with something. SOS!" You can’t help the small sigh that escapes you, your excitement tempered by responsibility.

Natasha notices the change in your expression and raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

You nod, a little reluctantly. “Yeah, just my brother. He needs help with something. Guess I should head out.”

She offers a soft smile, understanding but with a hint of disappointment in her eyes. “Duty calls, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say with a small laugh. “Sorry to bail on you.”

“No worries,” she replies, her voice warm and reassuring. “Family first.” Natasha gives you one last quick kiss, her hands squeezing your waist, before stepping back. “Take care of your brother. I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” you say softly, and with one last shared glance, you head out of the shop, already missing her presence.

When you get home, you find your brother lounging on the couch, his leg propped up with a couple of pillows. He grins when he sees you, clearly not in any dire situation.

“Sorry for interrupting your fun time with the redhead,” he teases, his tone light and playful, “but I really could use some help with this stupid remote.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Really? I rushed home for this?”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” he says with a chuckle, holding up his hands in mock defense. “You’re the one who insisted on being so overprotective.”

“I-” you say, grabbing the remote and throwing it at him. He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “So I assume I ruined something nice, huh? Sounds like things are getting serious with Mrs. Redhead.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck, but you just shrug. “And you ruined it.”

He laughs, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh please, don´t tell me this is the last time you´re seeing her.”

It´s not, he knows it´s not. You do too. Everyone knows it is not.

“Now behave yourself, or I’ll leave you stranded next time.”

"Are you really just going to see her again?" He raises his eyebrows.

"No, I´m going to buy us some dinner, since you ate everything we had here!" He can´t help but chuckle a bit at your words.

…

It’s been a few days since your brother started walking without much pain, and he’s eager to visit Natasha’s shop to finally see his bike. You agree to take him, sensing that he’s also curious about the woman you’ve been spending so much time with.

When you arrive at the shop, Natasha greets you both with a warm smile. “Look who’s finally back on his feet,” she says, nodding at your brother.

“Yeah, feels good to walk again,” he replies, trying to sound casual, though you can tell he’s excited. “And to finally check on my bike.”

“Come on, I’ll show you what I did,” Natasha says, leading him to the back where the bike is stored. As they walk, you hang back slightly, watching them interact.

As they approach the bike, your brother takes in the sight of it, clearly impressed. “Wow, it looks brand new.”

Natasha grins. “Took some work, but it’s as good as ever. You’ll be back on the road in no time.”

He looks over at you for a moment, then back at Natasha, his expression turning a bit more serious. “Listen, Natasha, I like you. You seem like a good person, and it’s obvious my sister likes you too. But, I still have to do this.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, curious. “Do what?”

“The talk,” he says, crossing his arms. “If you hurt her, I will come and get you.”

There’s a brief pause as Natasha considers his words, then she glances down at his still slightly injured leg and smirks. “Sure you will,” she says with just the right amount of sarcasm.

Your brother chuckles, appreciating the banter. “Okay, fair point. But seriously, she’s my little sister. I’ve gotta look out for her.”

Natasha’s playful expression softens, and she nods. “I get it. And for what it’s worth, I care about her a lot. I’d never hurt her.”

Your brother studies her for a moment, then finally gives a nod of approval. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to hobble after you.” You laugh, stepping forward to join them. “You two done with your little standoff?”

Natasha chuckles, “I think we’ve come to an understanding.”

Your brother nods, "sooo when can I take my bike back home?"

"You can take it today if you´d like," this sentence makes you groan.

"Hell yeah!" Your brother states.

"Oh my god-" you exhale deeply.

"I´ll get it for you," Natasha smirks at you and goes to the back for the bike.

He winks at you, completely unfazed by your glare. “You should thank me for falling off the bike. Seems like it led to something good.”

Natasha chuckles softly as she overhear the conversation, clearly enjoying this. You resist the urge to smack your brother’s arm. “Don’t push your luck.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter. “You’re welcome, sis. I guess we are even now.”

Hehe thank you for reading!

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

best laid plans, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the middle of the night. You’re asleep next to your model boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook, who is jacking off while touching your tits. Wait. Hold on a second. What? (He is still your model boyfriend though, even after all that.)

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; playful banter and shitty jokes; actually low-key crack and fluff; smut (fem reader, m-masturbation, handjob (while sucking on JK’s balls, lucky guy), tiny bit of nipple play and pussy slapping, edging, cowgirl, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS; the parenthesis are the reader’s inner thoughts and i did make a Dynamite lyric reference with JK’s dick and you can’t stop me

yes, the title is a pun, channeling my inner seokjinnie it’s what you think it is and it’s also not

–

Your dreams were always vivid and intense. 

Was it normal to have movie-level, hyperdetailed, sometimes not even involving you or anyone you knew (at least consciously), insane storyline dreams on a constant basis (without medication causing them)? You know, maybe not. You should get that checked out. But not today, because this is not the story about that (you really should get that checked out).

This is the story about you dreaming about your boyfriend jacking off next to asleep you and then realizing it was not a dream. 

At first you were like, man, that sure sounds like Jeon Jungkook breathing hard. Was he working out? Why are you having dreams about Jungkook working out? That's literally the most pointless, mundane dream you could ever have. Also, you weren't seeing anything, just blackness. What was the damn point of this dream you couldn't even look at him?

(To be honest, that’s very rude of you, brain.)

Jungkook always asked you to work out at home with him but, one, he was annoying as fuck to work out with because all he did was stare at you ("oh yeah, my bad for thinking you're sexy, holy shit, what a crime to think my girlfriend and future wife is hot!"); two, you literally had zero motivation to work out (not lazy, just, you know, didn't give a shit and Jungkook called that your great flaw of being his perfect girlfriend – but he loved all your soft bits so he was sending you mixed messages, tsk tsk); and finally, three, it always led up to fucking, so why go through all that trouble hyping yourself up in your leggings and sports bra, only to spend five minutes in them and forty-five doing a whole different kind of workout that didn't require clothes?

Exactly. 

Just skip that shit and get to the naked part. 

Oh, right, back to the whole deep-breathing Jungkook and you seeing darkness thing. 

Sometimes you had dreams with only sound and very little visual. It was disorienting, giving you the feeling of being trapped in a maze with no way out (dream analysts would be all over that shit) and once the images returned, you were usually naked (psychologists would have a field day with that). But this time, you were unmoving. Listening to tense inhale, drawn-out exhale, over and over, and you only recognized it as Jungkook because he did that thing where he sucked on his teeth a little, making that almost inaudible hiss noise. 

You felt heavy, tired, sluggish, as if you were dragging yourself through mud, in between the brink of conscious and subconscious, in that brief moment where you could control the dream but not your body, that little pocket of utopia. You searched for Jungkook in the darkness, curious to find him, and you couldn't, but he seemed to be beside you, to your right, where he usually was when you slept. Next to you, sometimes snoring so you'd have to smack him in the chest and he'd snort and stop (for a hot second, then you'd roll him to his side so at least he wouldn't be snoring in your ear). His pectoral muscles were bigger lately (you hated working out but you sure as hell didn't hate Jungkook working out) and the slapping sound was pretty satisfying now, palm to hard muscle. 

Kind of like the sound right now. 

Wait. 

You weren't slapping Jungkook's pecs.

You furrowed your brows. Huh? Why were you hearing that soft smacking sound over and over, Jungkook's low hiss and then your name in a deep hazy whisper and why was your front cold? You usually slept with only panties, no bra, but you weren't usually cold up top – that's what the linen duvet was for (you paid way too much for that, but you saw it on Instagram and, hey, it's your money, go off) and, to be honest, you used to be a cute pajamas person but, ever since you started living with Jungkook, he wanted you to wear as much as he did when he slept (read: literally only his boxer briefs). Lots of begging (and him being on his knees for you) later, and now it was your habit to strip before sleeping.

Anyway, back to being cold. 

You scrunched up your face and listened to the labored breathing in your right, a hand drifting on your stomach, tracing your bellybutton, moving up, light, delicate touches, the sound of skin on skin. A gentle fingertip brushed your nipple. 

You cracked your eyes open.

There was a tiny bit of light from your computer, the RGB keyboard casting a faint rainbow. You shifted your eyes to your right.

Jungkook's left arm was in an awkward position, softly caressing your nipple as he violently pumped his dick. 

On the bed. 

Underwear gone.

On the floor? Probably. 

He looked pretty damn hard. (Nice.) 

Your eyes floated to his face and his eyes were closed, mouth open, trying not to make any noise, gasping your name. Shapely jaw, soft cheeks, dark lashes, ash blond hair framing his handsome features, so beautiful it was unreal. His head turned towards you and his dark brown eyes slowly opened, purring your name lovingly. 

"Yeah, Jungkook?"

You saw the single blissful second it took for Jungkook's brain to catch up. 

Then he choked.

On air and his dick by squeezing it far too hard in complete and utter shock. 

"HOLY FUCK!"

He yanked his hand back, off your chest (feels bad man) and released his cock, causing it to bounce a little in the air (kind of sexy, not gonna lie), both of them shooting up to cover his rapidly reddening cheeks, one tattooed, one not, his inked right arm tense and his hand glistening with points of pre-cum.

You blinked innocently at him. 

"Oh, shit, fuck, I'm so sorry, um, l–listen," he sputtered, dick still sticking straight up, completely oblivious to Jungkook's embarrassment (ignorance is bliss). "I... I have a good reason, I s-swear."

You rolled onto your side and squished your tits together. Jungkook's brain seemed to implode a little, staring at your squashed breasts and hard nipples like it was the first time (even though you knew he literally sees them at least once a day).

"You're horny?" 

Your voice cracked a little from sleep and you coughed to clear your throat (not sexy, but such is life). 

Jungkook's shaking pupils were too busy staring at your titties. "Y-Yeah, I just woke up randomly horny as fuck, but I know how much you hate having your sleep disturbed so I was just going to edge myself a little... well, maybe finish…"

"You masturbating while touching my tits is not going to disturb me?"

"I... I've done it before..."

???????

???????

"Uh..."

"I don't touch you very much!" Jungkook blurted, grabbing your hands. "P-Please don't be mad! I only touch you a little and always very carefully! I never try to take advantage, I'm just horny, please, please, please don't be mad!"

He grabbed you by the shoulders and hugged you tightly. You grimaced, not because of the hug (Jungkook’s hugs were top tier), but because his hard dick jammed right into your thigh and smeared a giant line of pre-cum onto your skin (a little cold and not nearly as sexy as internet smut stories make it out to be, but maybe that was because you literally woke up to Jungkook jacking off without giving you so much as an invitation, rude). You gasped and retreated a little, but that made Jungkook try to grab you tighter and his cock bent upwards and jabbed you in the lower belly. 

Still leaking everywhere, by the way. 

"Oh shit–"

"Look here Excalibur, I'm not the stone waiting for the king," you winced, swiping your hand across your skin and wiping it on the side of his ass (hey, it's free real estate). Jungkook yelped, letting go of you. 

"Hey!"

"If you're horny, let's fuck, not joust. I don't have the proper equipment for that and I'm not an undercover Lancelot, as dope as that would be."

"I should be turned off by now," Jungkook muttered under his breath (probably cursing your poorly timed King Arthur jokes – you did have a tendency to wear your mind on your sleeve). "But I'm not because, fuck, look at this body..."

His hands were already running all over your skin and, if there was one thing Jungkook had an extra zest for, it was fucking you – all the time, twenty-four seven, rest in peace responsibilities if you ever decided to become a nudist, but thankfully you had self-control (not when it came to terrible jokes at inappropriate times though, that was your vice). However, sleepy you had less self-control and let him do whatever he wanted, running his fingers all over your chest, making you shiver and slide closer to him, rubbing your thigh against his length and he sucked in a breath, whispering your name hotly against your cheek.

"S-Stop, I'm going to get horny..."

"You're already horny," you hummed into his chin, running your fingers through his blond hair, closing your eyes again, listening to his soft moan against your cheek (he always sounded so good, so fucking sexy, it was sinful), your left hand sliding down between you both. his palms pressed into your breasts, squeezing them roughly as you cupped your hand around his length and balls (Jungkook was really warm and your hands were kind of cold, this turned out to be a win-win situation, sweet). You wound your fingers around his length with two fingers hooked around his balls, bouncing them lightly as you rubbed his velvety skin, sighing against his neck.

"Pog."

"Do not Twitch chat talk to my dick," Jungkook muttered. "Also, what kind of weak-ass handjob is this, are you just warming your cold-as-fuck fingers–" (well, shit) "–oh, fuck!"

You gripped his cock with your left hand and buried your fingers in his hair, tongue between your lips as you roughly stroked his length, making Jungkook squirm and gasp above you, jerking back. You kept your hold on him, tighter, feeling him swell and get harder, grinning, your eyes still closed, working him fast and firm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Jungkook swore repeatedly, pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers (damn, he was making you work to keep this smirk on your face, but it was worth), tendrils of pleasure snaking through you. You bit the side of your lip, increasing your pace, squeezing just under the head the way he liked, pre-cum pooling around the pocket of your index finger and thumb, adding lubrication.

"Stop, s-stop, I'm gonna e-explode," Jungkook moaned, planting his hands onto your tits and sinking his fingers in the softness once more (hello? where's the titty love, this ain't all about you, Jungkook). 

"I like dynamite," was you answer, cracking one eye open. "Light it up." 

Jungkook growled in his throat, glaring at you. "I swear to God, if you weren't so fucking hot, I'd be so fucking limp right no–aah, d-don't, oh fuuuck, please..."

You slid down the bed, switching hands, attaching your mouth to his balls (he was probably grateful for that, can't talk with a mouthful of nuts, sad) and put your breasts on his thigh, rubbing your nipples all over his hard muscle as you sucked, starting off slow, then faster and faster, one to the other, tongue all over, Jungkook loudly rambling nonsense above you (you weren't paying attention, you had a dick to jack off and some balls to rearrange with your masterful tongue) until Jungkook squealed at your firm grip on the head, cutting off his orgasm once again.

"Stop edging me," he hissed angrily above you.

You blew a raspberry on his nuts.

"A-ah, fuuuuuuuuck!"

Oh, that turned out to be more pleasurable than either you or Jungkook imagined, because his eyes were gigantic and his hips were furiously humping your hand, but you weren't holding him tight enough for him to cum. You raised your eyebrows at him and Jungkook gave you the most displeased expression he could muster (he looked cute as fuck, a complete fail), ash blond strands clinging to his forehead, nose scrunched up.

"That was for jacking off without me," you tutted.

"You would have gotten pissed if I woke you up to fuck," he pouted.

"I need beauty sleep to be beautiful."

"I hear facials actually help quite a lot."

You burst out laughing and Jungkook followed suit, his rich, full, almost wheezing laugh, until he realized you had swiped a condom from the nightstand (yup, they were casually in a little moon-shaped dish by the bed next to the chap stick and phone charger, says a lot about you two), fitted it on him, and then you sat on his dick.

"W-Wait – oooooooh, fuck!"

You waited a second for your body to adjust, forcefully stretched out by his thick girth, but it wasn't that bad when you were controlling your muscles and expecting it, so you started rocking your hips after the second, sighing in satisfaction. Jungkook's eyes rolled back into his head, his long fingers bunching up on his chest, raising his ass to get deeper with every slap of hips to hips, your body talking to his, heat rising through you, branching out your spine and to your limbs, the best kind of workout (your only workout, be honest here), clenching your core, making Jungkook snap his head back in panic, shaking his head furiously.

"I'm g-gonna cum if you keep going l-like that..."

You leaned down, brushing his hands away and spreading your fingers over his pecs, running your nails over his hard nipples. Jungkook whimpered, chewing on his lip, you turning the tempo from a fast one to a longer, slower, more complete stroke from head to base, soft ass smacking his soft balls. He looked up at you, moaning softly, pupils blown wide, rainbow shadows over his face (damn, he's pretty, eleven out of ten, for sure), gasping your name, his hands finding your forearms and caressing them, eyelashes fluttering.

"O-oh, fuck, p-please... faster... wanna cum... you're so fucking sexy... ah, fuck, wanna cum for you..."

No one could say no to that, especially not you.

You slid your arms down to the bed, right beside his head, and increased the force, intensifying it all, Jungkook's fingers flying up and holding onto your nipples, the sheer wildness of your own pace tugging and pulling on them, your breathing deepening, panting hard, wispy and hot, his name on your lips, pleasure all over, passionately fucking him into the bed, and him jutting his hips back into your soaked walls, throbbing against the tightness, so hot, fire coursing through you, your juices soaking his crotch and balls.

“Jungkook, oh, fuck, yes...”

You squeezed him hard and Jungkook thrust into you with a groan, all hardness and thickness violently burying itself into your overwhelming heat and you moaned lustfully, pussy shuddering around his wonderful cock, feeling it shiver repeatedly, his orgasm filling up the condom so much that you felt the latex stretch inside you, jarring jerks with each of Jungkook's soft cries, his head shoved into the pillows, blond hair fanning out like a halo and practically wearing out your name with how many times he was chanting it.

You reached and held down the condom as you unsheathed (the beast), collapsing against the bed and laying down, wheezing a little, greatly satisfied at your work.

"Boom."

You weakly reached up and mimed a firework with one hand.

"Like dynamite."

"Oh, my fucking God," Jungkook muttered, peeling off the condom and immediately snatching the towel next to the bed (also says a lot about you two) and another condom, yanking off the other one (trash can next to the bed already, again says – never mind, you get it) and cleaning himself off before putting on the new one. "On your back."

You rolled on your back, snickering. "Three parts dynamite, with a nitroglycerin cap–"

Jungkook clapped a hand on your mouth and it smelled a whole lot like his cum. "This is not the time to be quoting the Addams Family, you animal."

You nuzzled out of it, grinning. "I'm just saying I want an orgasm equivalent to blowing up a small house."

"Oh, you'll get it," Jungkook growled, yanking your hips to the center of the bed, pushing your legs up to your chest, almost bending you in half. "You ready?"

You bit your lip, still grinning. "Of course."

One hand left your leg and you were confused for a split second.

The next you were gasping, Jungkook rapidly smacking his hand into your clit and pussy, not hard, but constant, swift smacks that got you wetter and wetter, quivering and struggling for breath.

"J-Jungkook, oh f-fuck, Jungkook..." you whined, fingers digging into the sheets, twisting them, bouncing your hips towards him. He inhaled sharply, fitting his finger onto your clit and raising himself.

"W-wait – oh fuck!"

Jungkook chuckled and thrust into your wet warmth, rubbing your clit at the same time. Your body squirmed, trying to alleviate the sudden high rush of pleasure, but Jungkook was stronger (was this the reason he worked out? no complaints here), his free hand pressing your leg down into your chest, your other leg crammed against his shoulder, his hand snaking in between and stimulating your clit, not having to move because you were moaning helplessly, rutting against him repeatedly, pulsating all around him, so good, so good, throbs of desire against his callused fingertip, eyes rolling back. Hard cock, engorged clit worked into a frenzy, your own hips fucking him back so hard that Jungkook was moaning with you, your name tumbling out from those pink lips.

"Cum for me, fuck, you sound and look so sexy, come on, come on..."

You would have praise for him too if you could breathe, but you couldn't, pleasure so overwhelming that your eyes closed, getting there, getting so close, and Jungkook he kept going until you wailed his name, back arcing, your tits hitting your thighs, forearms taut and straining, lower body lurching towards him and leaking out slick juices all over his crotch and yours, so much so that his finger slipped and his nail nicked your clit, turning your moan into a howl of ecstasy.

"Oh, shit, are you ok–"

You grabbed his hips, ignoring whatever the fuck he was saying, and slammed him down into your pussy, making Jungkook lose his balance and put his hands on the bed, yelping, and you hissing in his face, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please, Jungkook, give me your cock, and Jungkook was saying something but your body gave no fucks, ears mysteriously broken at that specific moment, raising your hips to meet his as he sank down, Jungkook's face scrunching up and his pleas finally reaching your ears.

"H-Hold on, I want to last, stop, stop, stop..."

"Who cares about that, I need dick," was your very impatient response, but Jungkook grabbed your thighs and pinned you down, stopping you and him from moving, you whining and clenching around him.

"This is not p–"

Jungkook immediately fitted his hand over your mouth, narrowing his eyes at you. "No. Bad. Shush."

(How did he know you were going to say 'this is not poggers'?)

You wiggled your ass and Jungkook growled, pulling out and slamming back in, not fast, but powerful, cock getting harder and harder with your whines and cries behind his palm.

"This is what you need," he panted, deep and gravelly, one hand on the bed and one on your mouth, fucking you so hard that your ass was bouncing on the bed, creating a wet spot on the sheets with how drenched you were for Jungkook's lust-filled, husky voice. "Need me to fuck you silent, fuck, you're so tight and wet, come on, cum for me, cum for me, you sexy, sexy woman..."

Your body was already complying, pleasure wrapping all around, body so hot from the fire within, tongue pressed against his palm, moaning lewdly around his fingers as you came again, and he was so hard, fuck, Jungkook was so fucking hard right after he woke up, always, (a fucking mystery and eighth wonder of the world and your pussy was thoroughly investigating), so deep and so thick, your muscles clutching him tight, sucking him back in. His fingers separated a little, loosening his grip, and you heard your needy whimper mildly muffled by his digits.

"You're so good Jungkook, I love you, fuck, I love your cock, Jungkook..."

You looked up into his eyes, at his long hair hanging around his face, jaw clenched, smirking as he saw your gaze, biting the side of his lips in concentration.

"I love you too," he breathed. "You're the sexiest, most beautiful woman in the world."

You clamped around him and Jungkook groaned, eyelids fluttering, grunting as he forcefully thrust into you, your name mixed with a moan as he came again, fully sheathing himself in your quivering, abused heat, warm pulses soothing him and you all over. The sheets stuck to your ass, covered in your sweet-smelling cum.

(Good thing that was on his side of the bed.)

His hand glided up your face, pushing back your hair, shuddering as he rutted into your core a few more times, savoring your tightness.

"You alright, my dude?" you whispered nonchalantly, gasping slightly.

Jungkook cracked one eye open. "Yeah, I'm fucking fantastic, bro."

"Pog-"

Jungkook shoved two fingers into your mouth and you choked a little, pouting around his fingers (you weren't surprised though, you knew it was coming).

"I will whip this dick out and slap you in the face with it."

"That's kinda nasty, but also sounds kinda hot," you gargled around his fingers.

"... You're right. Damn, he's asleep. Shit."

Jungkook pulled his fingers out and wiped them on the towel, frowning as he glanced down.

"Only him and not us, something seems a little inverted here."

Jungkook chuckled and leaned down to kiss you (another reason why he was the perfect partner, still being affectionate, regardless of your loony antics).

"I love you."

-

in which you anger jjk by being annoying - wait, that’s every day well, he still wants to bang you counter point

--

masterpost

[rafescoke]

Crime ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Part #1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader would do anything for the boy she loves from a summer ago.

Warnings: Story takes place at the start of season 2 (and some flashbacks from season 1), swearing, angst, death penalty, gaslighting, reader just needing help

A/N: i don’t think this is my best work at all :( but i’ll post the part 2 straight away!! didn’t know tumblr has a word limit now wtf

p.s; tell me what do you think of this fic!!

(Y/N) had begged for somewhere else to spend the Summer. She couldn’t go back to that place, not when there were too many memories that awaited her. No one seemed to listen to her, and her father continued to check something online.

“Rafe Cameron.”

“(Y/N),” she had smiled, and she thought about how gorgeous a boy could be. This man before her; with his hair messily parted and that goddamn blue eyes had her holding her breath, and she wasn’t in her usual demeanour.

“You come down here often?” Rafe asked, raising his eyebrows. (Y/N) watched as he chugged on his beer, and gave her another sly smile again.

“Um, not really. This is my first summer here.”

“That’s nice,” he shrugged, “Welcome to Obx.”

“Thanks,” she nodded, liking how Obx already is. She made a mental note to tell her friends back home about this island, and most importantly; Rafe Cameron.

“Do you wanna take a walk?”

(Y/N) never really accepted any boy’s invitation for a walk, because all the boys in the city never had good intentions with her. She never dated anyone, never bothered to do so.

“Sure,” she smiled, and walked alongside the dirty-blonde boy to the far end of the beach. He sucked in a breath, glancing at her from the corners of his eyes, and laughed.

“You look nervous.”

“You could be a mass murderer.”

“Isn’t that just the perfect person to spend the summer with?”

(Y/N) looked up at him, the moonlight from the sky illuminating his features. God, he really is beautiful. “I guess.”

“So would that be a problem if I killed someone before?”

(Y/N) laughed easily at the joke, bumping her arms against his. She felt a jolt from the touch, and swallowed her saliva. “No.”

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah. That’s more like it.”

(Y/N) had thought of that moment as nothing but a joke. A playful joke, meaning to flirt with her. The next few weeks were spent with only them two, sometimes in his house or (Y/N)’s stay. They were inseparable; always attached by the hips morning and night, and (Y/N) knew about all of his problems.

“Try it.”

“What? Coke?” She asked, bewildered. She looked down to the table, her hands fidgeting, and she quickly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked up to Rafe again, “I don’t know how.”

“Come on, I’ll show you,” he smiled, pulling her by her wrist and seated her beside him. She felt the jolt again, but she had gotten better at ignoring it.

Rafe lowered his hand, a finger placed on his left nostril, and snorted the line of white powder. He grunted, throwing his head back, and after a few seconds, he gave her a smirk.

“Your turn.”

(Y/N) smiled back, reaching for the rolled up bill before lowering his head to the last line. She took a deep breath, still so shaky, and snorted the powder before she could change her mind.

Her heartbeat quickened, and her mind was all over the place. She could feel her forehead getting clammy, and before she could do anything, Rafe cupped her face in his large hands.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he expressed, looking straight into her eyes. (Y/N) didn’t realise she was starting to cry, and stared back into his eyes.

“You’re so pretty,” he said suddenly, rubbing comforting circles on her temples. (Y/N) relaxed under his touch, “Such a pretty girl.”

“I thought you’re friends with that Cameron boy,” her father suddenly said, shaking her out of her memories. (Y/N) closed her eyes, trying to push away the thoughts, and gave her father a grimace.

“So? I don’t want to see him.”

“What happened between you two? You used to ask me to move to Obx,” her father laughed, still clicking on the mouse to the laptop.

“People change, dad,” she muttered, and made her way back to her bedroom to be alone with her thoughts.

“Rafe! You don’t have to do this,” (Y/N) gasped, her hands around her mouth. She looked around the gazebo by the lake, her eyes brightening against the beautiful fairy lights and veins decorating the railings.

“It’s your last week here,” he shrugged, helping her to her seat before sitting for himself. He pointed to the food displayed before then, “Steak. Your favourite.”

“You are amazing,” she expressed, her eyes suddenly glassy. The lake never looked so calming, and (Y/N) wished she could capture this exact moment in her head.

“Just thought you should see the other side of Rafe Cameron,” he shrugged, his lips forming into a smile. “I’m glad you came down here to Obx.”

“Me too,” she breathed, and went for the food. “I’m so glad to have met you.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, cutting his steak into small pieces before biting into one. “Didn’t you called me a mass murderer the first time we met?”

“It was a joke,” she rolled her eyes, “But I’ll still like you even if you are.”

She didn’t know the truth behind her words.

“You will?” He looked up to her, grinning. “And just like?”

“Just like. What are you playing at, Rafe?” She faked groan, putting her cutleries down and clasping her hand together. “What? You’re going to propose to me or something?”

Everything happened so fast; Rafe chuckled, awkwardly running his fingers through his fair, messing with his slicked back hair. She liked this messy hair better, but she liked anything about Rafe Cameron, messy hair or not.

“No.”

Rafe held out the tiny velvet box in his hands, and (Y/N) never saw a prettier smile than his.

“No,” she repeated, her breathing heavy. She was too shocked by this, only meaning the proposal part of her speech as a joke, and looked into his sincere eyes again.

“I’m not proposing to you,” he laughed, getting down to one knee and opening the box to a beautiful diamond ring. (Y/N) sucked in a breath, mesmerised. “I will though, in the future.”

“Oh my god, Rafe, I can’t accept this,” she gasped, watching as the diamond glinted under the bright light. “You’re too much.”

“It’s a promise ring,” he smiled, “And a proposal to ask you to become my girlfriend.”

He sucked in a breath, and (Y/N) swore her heart stopped. She never thought of herself worthy as these kind of moments, but here she was; all teary eyed, her hand against her heart to calm her crazy heartbeat.

“Will you be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?”

She laughed, wiping the tears that had rolled down to her cheeks, and cupped his face into her hands. “You’re so fucking dumb. Of course I will, asshole, without this whole dinner thing. You could ask me while we’re in the swimming pool and I’ll say yes.”

Rafe laughed, melting into her hands, before taking out the ring he had saved up for (by not buying anymore coke) and asking for her permission to slide it over her ring finger.

(Y/N) nodded, holding her breath, and the diamond ring slid to her finger, and she gasped at how pretty it looked. She wondered about how much it had cost Rafe to buy the ring for her, but pushed the thought away when Rafe tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“We haven’t even kissed yet.”

(Y/N) laughed, “I told you you’re too fast, Rafe.”

Rafe smiled, inching closer to her, and (Y/N) just instantly stopped thinking. He was so beautiful, so angelic, and she wished she could stay at Obx forever.

“I love you, (Y/L/N).”

“Rafe,” she expressed, placing her forehead against his, “I love you too, okay?”

(Y/N) groaned, deepening her face against the soft pillow. She felt like screaming, but she didn’t have the energy to do so.

She would do anything for Rafe, and the next few days after that proposal went too fast that she felt like God was being unfair to her. He made her feel so good, and no one had made her feel the way he made her feel.

She felt like she was in heaven.

Until that one, certain Friday; the day before she went back to New York.

“Rafe, please,” she cried, pulling him by shirt as he pointed the gun at the sheriff, his eyes flaring up in anger. “Rafe, it doesn’t have to be this way.”

She looked at Ward, who looked afraid as well, and sucked in a breath. “You told me-”

“Shut up!” He grunted, his own fingers trembling on the trigger. “Fuck! Shut up.”

She didn’t know what to do. Sarah was looking at her for help, but she had tried her best to console him. She tried to reach for him again, to which he quickly pushed her away.

“Do that again, and I’ll kill you next.”

“Rafe-”

“Shut up!” He yelled again, and before she could do anything the pulled on the trigger, and the sheriff fell to the ground with widened eyes.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) jolted from her position at the knock, and groaned when her mother came in. She scooted away, giving her some space on the bed, and laid with her face planted against the pillow again.

“You never told us about what happened with you and Rafe,” she sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Okay, so why don’t you want to go to Obx for the summer?”

“I want new boyfriends.”

Her mother laughed, “Okay. Then find new boyfriends in Obx. The blonde boy who helped us carry our bags the first time we arrived there can be one.”

“JJ?”

“He’s always around the island too, helping people for money,” she shrugged, “That’s a good kid. Doing honest work for honest money.”

“I’m not actually looking for a boyfriend, mom,” she rolled her eyes. “It was a figure of speech.”

“Well,” she stood up, “You better be looking for one. We’re spending the summer in Obx, and that’s final.”

. . .

(Y/N) rubbed her eyes against the glowing sunlight of North Carolina, her body screaming with pain from hours of sitting in the same position. She heard the pilot said something, her mind still woozy from only being caffeinated, and placed her head against the seat again.

“It’s a bright day, like it’s waiting for us,” her mother exclaimed, fixing her sunglasses before walking down the stairs to the road. (Y/N) groaned, still so tired, and she wished for nothing but to stay in her room with Netflix to watch.

“Hey, Mr (Y/L/N),” JJ smiled, and (Y/N) noticed the fake exterior he was trying to portray. “Come down here for another summer again?”

Her mother, who admired JJ’s ‘honest work’ gushed out to beside him, asking about his school and his works. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, not interested in making any new conversation, and she looked back at the area where the incident took place.

JJ caught her looking, and when her parents and the little brother had entered the car, he went to her to help her with her bags.

He crouched down, wrapping his fingers around the handle, and quickly whispered. “You saw, right?”

“Huh?”

“What Rafe did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, and went into the car before he could say anything else.

God. Just how she expected her first moments after arriving in Obx.

“Hey! Welcome back!”

“You called the Camerons?” She groaned, looking at her father for some kind of useless explanation. After the brief conversation with JJ, she wanted nothing that could remind her of Rafe and hoped she could stay in her room for the whole 2 months.

“(Y/N), wait-”

She barged into her room for 2 months, noticing the old posters she had put up the year before, and thought about how happy she was at that time. She felt nothing now, and she couldn’t wait until the end of summer.

“Fuck!” She yelled, her head feeling so light, and placed herself before the naked bed. She sighed, trying to calm herself down, and thought of the ways to ignore the certain boy a few miles away.

Maybe he’s in college.

Maybe he’s going to leave her alone.

Maybe he has found someone new.

She felt a tug at the thought of the last sentence, and she couldn’t explain why she would even be devastated over him finding a new girl. That’s good, she guessed, at least she doesn’t have to think about staying away from him again.

Maybe she should spend her time with the pogues; JJ’s friends. They looked fun to hang with.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

“I’m not in the mood,” she grunted, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. “What do you want?”

“Can we go to the beach?”

“The beach?” She huffed, “We just arrived. Shouldn’t you clean your room or something?”

“Okay. But can you bring me to the beach after I’m done?”

“I’ll think about it,” she expressed, but after a few hours of sweeping and mopping the dusty room, placing the new bedsheet over the mattress and taking down her old posters, all she wanted to do was get out for some fresh air. She had slept most of her time in the plane so she wasn’t feeling like taking a nap at all, and she guessed it would be appropriate to bring her little brother to the beach.

She walked to her room, her hands around her waist. “Hey, you’re- where the fuck did you get that?”

“What?” He asked, raising the frame with his sister’s arms around Rafe, smiling happily at the camera. “This? Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“Throw that away!” she yelled, “I said throw that away!”

“Okay, okay,” he groaned, throwing the frame into the big plastic bag before dusting the dust off of him. “Can we go to the beach now?”

“You’re an asshole, do you know that?” She huffed, watching as he changed into his swimming shorts, “And we’ve been cleaning for 3 hours. You’re not half done yet.”

“Whatever,” he said, and closed the door. “Just wait for me downstairs.”

The ride to the beach didn’t take long, and (Y/N) actually felt peaceful riding the bicycle and letting the breeze hit her square on the face. She had laughed at a stupid joke by her little brother, and she thought about how she could do this for the next 2 months.

“I wanna learn how to surf,” he said, letting the water soaked his feet and dumped his feet into the sand. “Do you?”

“You’ll forget how to when we’re back in New York,” she mumbled, gazing at the sky, “Also your body’s too weak to fight the waves.”

“No, it’s not,” he argued, “What are you going to do for the summer, (Y/N)? Are you going to be with that-”

“No,” she quickly said, curling her toes at the feeling of the water soaking her feet. “I’m not going to be with anyone.”

“Isn’t that your friend?”

“Ha-ha, nice joke,” she laughed falsely, still closing her eyes against the bright sky. “Who’s the friend? Is it Rafe?”

“Hey.”

(Y/N) sat up straight, her heart beating wildly, and what greeted her sight sent shivers down to her spine, and she quickly clutched onto her little brother’s wrist before pulling him away.

“Ow! What are you doing? (Y/N), let me go!” Lucas groaned, looking back at the boy who wanted nothing but to talk to his sister. “Rafe, help!”

“Shut up, you bitch,” she groaned, still pulling on his wrist. She knew about the possibility of leaving a claw mark on his skin, but she wanted nothing to do with the boy.

“Help me, Rafe! She’s going to kill me!”

“I said shut up!” She yelled, her chest heaving now, and she didn’t care about her hair that was hanging loosely from her hairclaw.

She didn’t know if Rafe was chasing after her, and she didn’t dare to look back.

“Ride your bike home,” she fumbled with the handle, “Now. Please, now!”

“Okay,” Lucas groaned, “What’s wrong with you? It’s just Rafe.”

“Go!” She yelled, already set to cycle back home, with her clothes all wet and sticking against her skin. She couldn’t breathe, and she hated the sight of him. She cycled back home hurriedly, tears streaming down her face, and she wished she had stayed home.

The night after the day on the beach she didn’t bother to come down for dinner, only staying in her room and browsing through Netflix. She didn’t feel like doing anything, and she hated how quick her mood was ruined.

She didn’t think about seeing him that quickly, especially after just arriving on the island that morning. This was exactly the problem; she couldn’t face him, not after what he did, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn him to the authorities. She was pushing him away, but at the same time protecting him.

The next morning, she felt shittier than ever. Being in the small island, where everywhere she goes could remind her back to Rafe, she decided to stay in bed and browse through more movies, only going downstairs for a glass of water before going back to her room. She was glad Lucas and her parents were enjoying most of their time here in Obx, and she would do the same if it weren’t for what happened last year.

She was scared. She was mad at herself too, because she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone about what she saw. As much as she hated him now, a part of her still loved him.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

“Get the fuck away from me!” She yelled, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

“No, no, baby, please-”

“Don’t call me baby, I swear to fucking god!” She yelled again, getting into the car and watched as Rafe desperately banged against the car window, pleading for her to hear him.

“It’s not what you think-”

(Y/N) cried, her head painful, and slowly slid the diamond ring from her finger before lowering the window by a slit and throwing it outside. Rafe watched the ring roll away but didn’t care to fetch it, only trying to speak to her through the tiny slit.

“I had to do it, please,” he begged, “Please. Baby. I can’t do this-”

“Go to hell,” she hissed, and sped away.

That was the last time she had ever seen Rafe, and she knew he tried to contact her with different phone numbers every day, but she had blocked every single number. The trouble stopped after a while, and (Y/N) realised how much she had been missing him.

Who could she confront about this?

Who could she tell?

She couldn’t. She loved him too much.

A week after settling in their summer home, (Y/N) was tired of all the screaming and nudging by her mother for her to get out of the house, and ‘get a life’. She didn’t feel like having a whole summer of just hanging out at the beach, not when the last time she had went there and bumped onto Rafe, so she decided to keep her distance off Figure 8 and made her way to the other side of the island.

She had only been there twice with Rafe before, to pick up something at Barry’s (he told her not to worry about it), so she never really quite get used to the road around here.

She stopped the jeep by the side of the road, glancing at the signboard and the road behind her. Did she go too far? Or was this just the wrong way?

She rested her back against the car door, already tired, and decided to just wait until she was good enough to drive home.

It was half an hour later when she heard the roaring of a motorcycle, and she quickly got to her feet, her chest suddenly heaving.

“Yo? You’re okay?”

“Huh?” She fixed her hair, “Um- yeah. Just resting.”

JJ nodded, “You should turn off your engine. You don’t want to-”

Just right on cue, the engine stopped completely and (Y/N) groaned, getting into the car to turn the engine again. It made some noise, until silence fell between them.

“That’s what I’m saying,” JJ said, “Where are you heading to?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular,” she sighed, getting out of the jeep and shutting the door angrily. Good. Just like how she wanted her day to be.

“Let me send you back home,” he offered, pointing to the black ride behind the jeep. She shook her head, her mouth forming into a tight smile.

“That’s alright, I can-”

“Walk back home? Come on, you’re far from Figure 8, and you’re 50 minutes away from The Cut on foot.”

She didn’t exactly wish for this, but it would help.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, helping her up to the motorcycle and placing her hands on his shoulders for some balance.

“You’ve never ridden a bike before?” JJ asked, half-amused. “No, no, because you look nervous.”

“I’ve just never ridden a bike with you driving,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Can you send me to the taxi stop or anything?”

“Really? Why can’t I just drive you home?”

She groaned, “Just send me to the taxi port, Maybank.”

He laughed, putting his helmet on, and (Y/N) placed her hands against her ears at the loud sound of the engine.

(Y/N) hate to admit it; but the ride to The Cut was the most thrilling thing that she had ever felt in months. She felt a smile slowly forming onto her face, and JJ swore he could see it too from the side mirror, and when they finally stopped at the taxi port, she was so happy she felt like buying a bike for herself.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “Minus one point for no helmet.”

“I didn’t know I would see you laying by the side of the road,” he rolled his eyes, a hint of teasing in his tone. “But where’s the fun when you’re all safe?”

She hummed in response, “I’ll see you around then.”

“So you’re just going to get an expensive ride back to Figure 8? Why wouldn’t you let me send you off?”

She knew exactly why, but she didn’t want to admit it. She was scared of Rafe seeing her on JJ’s bike, knowing that he’s not on good terms with the pogues, and the last thing she had ever wanted was to make him feel like he was being replaced.

“Don’t trouble yourself too much, JJ,” she sighed. “Besides, you can see me for the next 2 months everyday if that’s what you want.”

He grinned, “Good offer. Will think about that soon.”

(Y/N) laughed, tilting her head to one side before making a move to reach for her phone. JJ watched as she filled in her passcode, went straight to Contacts, and handed him the phone.

“What’s this?”

“Oh god, you’re annoying,” she rolled her eyes. “Put in your McDonald’s order.”

JJ laughed again, his fingers sliding over her phone screen easily to fill in his number, and he handed her the phone back after saving his name as ‘Handsome pogue’.

“I’ll see you around, (Y/L/N).”

(Y/N) smiled, this time sincerely, and she thought about the possibility of spending her summer in The Cut with JJ where she knew there would be no troubles awaiting her.

It was safe to say that JJ and (Y/N) were inseparable after spending so much time together the next few weeks. Everywhere JJ goes, (Y/N) would be there with him, either by helping him with his work in the restaurant or running for groceries to deliver with him. She liked it with him; he took her mind off Rafe, and that was everything that she needed.

JJ knew about the girl’s relationship with Rafe last year, but he was careful not to cross the invisible line. He was gentle with her, always studying her reactions at certain places (he was sure Rafe had taken her to those places before) and in return, she knew everything about him.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she bit her lips, letting the water soaked her jeans as they laid on the sand, gazing at the view. She felt sorry for the blonde boy after knowing the truth about his father, and wished she could help him in any way.

“That’s okay,” he replied. “Hey, I’m bringing you to meet my friends. Would you like that?”

“Your friends?” She raised her brows, “Like Kiera and Pope?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “Would you like to meet them?”

(Y/N) thoughts went back to the many times Rafe had told her about the pogues, but she always saw them as a tight group of friends who always had each other’s backs. She never had that kind of friendship before, especially living in New York where almost everyone is fake, and sometimes wished she could have something like that.

“Okay, yeah,” she nodded, “Would they like me?”

“You’re kidding? You’re amazing!” JJ gushed out, throwing his arms onto the air before slapping the water, resulting in a splash across her face.

She gasped, “Fuck, you’re fucking dead.”

“No, no, I don’t mean it-”

The conversation turned into a water fight, their screams filling the air and attracting everyone’s attention, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She was enjoying the moment, with JJ, and she wished she could do this forever.

“Stop it!” JJ laughed, pushing her down to the sand before pinning her arms on top of her head. He watched as her chest heaved, a smile playing on her lips.

He pulled away, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

(Y/N) pulled him into a kiss, her fingers wrapping themselves around his jawline and allowing the water to completely wet their whole body. JJ softened into the kiss, still so shocked, but he never felt better than ever.

(Y/N) pulled away, giggling. “You’re red in the face, JJ.”

“Huh?” He smiled, and quickly pulled her up with him. “Let’s go to the Chateau. Get you cleaned up.”

“I’m not meeting your friends looking like this, J,” she rolled her eyes, pushing him away slightly. He pulled her close, placing a soft kiss against her forehead that left her all breathless.

“Why not? You’re still pretty.”

She made a face, but let her body be pulled away by JJ to his bike. She was nervous, of course, to see his friends, but she decided it was time anyways.

If she was to date JJ, then she would have to meet his friends and talk to them eventually.

When (Y/N) first entered the chateau, she didn’t know what to expect. Pope and Kiera were friendly to her, but she could feel the strange vibe between her and Kie, but they were both trying to be polite not to mention anything.

(Y/N) knew there was somebody missing from the group, but she didn’t dare mention it to anyone. JJ had hinted about this to her before, something about John B getting convicted, but she had tried her best to stray away from the topic.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Kie smiled, clasping her hands together and laying her back against the chair. She watched as JJ whispered something to (Y/N), feeling her heart tightened when she laughed, and shook her head. Kie would never let anyone like her trouble her.

“JJ, truth or dare,” Kie said, crossing her arms. Her question was directed to JJ, but she watching (Y/N) intently.

“Dare.”

“Come on, we’re short of one person who could think of the best dares,” she said, and (Y/N) realised the piercing tone and attention towards her. She sucked in a breath, not sure if she was just stating or directing the statement to her in a satirical manner.

“Okay, truth,” JJ rolled his eyes.

“Do you miss John B?”

“Kie-” Pope groaned, “Not the time.”

(Y/N) watched as he glanced at her, but quickly pulled away when he realised she was staring at him too.

“Okay, since you guys wanna be such assholes,” Kie sat up straighter. “(Y/N), truth or dare?”

“I’m not playing.”

“Of course you’re playing,” Kie laughed, “You’re fucking with JJ now right? You gotta show-”

“Shit, Kie, what’s your problem?” JJ sighed, throwing his arms up into the air. “She’s a friend of mine.”

“She’s not your friend!” She suddenly exclaimed, “She fucking saw Rafe shot Sheriff Peterkin but decided to keep her stupid mouth shut because-”

“Stop it!” JJ yelled, pushing her against the seat. “Kie! Not right now!”

“What do you mean not right now?” (Y/N) asked, disbelief lacing in her tone. What was even happening? She was having the best time of her life a few hours ago at the beach, and now this?

“Oh, did your boyfriend not tell you?” Kie laughed. “It’s all an act for you to confess to him that you saw Rafe kill Sheriff Peterkin. Don’t fucking act dumb with me, (Y/N), you saw, and you didn’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gritted her teeth, “I never saw him kill anyone.”

“Bullshit!”

“Kie!” JJ yelled, using all of his power to hold off the struggling girl. He motioned for Pope to take over and tried to reach (Y/N), only for her to walk straight towards the exit.

“Wait, wait, I don’t mean it-” he sighed, wrapping his fingers around her wrist before pulling her close. “I don’t-”

“You betrayed me,” she said. “Are you that stupid? So you planned about helping me to the taxi stop so that I can confess whatever it is about Rafe? Is that your fucking plan?”

“No, oh my god, I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck! I know I can never trust you guys,” she hissed, pulling her hand away before walking towards the door. She groaned again when she realised the lack of a vehicle to drive home, but she rather walk back home than be in the same distance as JJ or Kie or anyone else.

She walked alone all the way to the main part of town so that she could hire a cab, and just to make her day any better; the rain suddenly decided it was time to cool the island, and (Y/N) was left to soak.

She put her arms around her, shivering slightly, looking back at her previous way and wondering how much time she had spent walking from the Chateau. If only she had driven all the way from Figure 8 to The Cut, she wouldn’t have had to waste her time walking mindlessly.

A few minutes after, she saw a car pulling up beside her. She decided to ignore the black vehicle in hope for whoever it is to finally give up.

“Get in, (Y/N).”

Part #2

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight: [REDACTED] “Oh Goddamnit. DANNY!”

Prompt Creator: @mr-lancers-english-class

Even Danny’s school projects cause ghostly issues and Lancer really should have seen this coming.

Alright fine, Lancer knew this was a bad idea. He knew it. And yet... here they all are, with each of his students doing their self-chosen presentations. And as he should have expected, Every. Single. One. has been on Phantom. Sure at least there’s been some variety. Star’s piece on his fashion and how that reflects on his personality and the era he died was actually fairly interesting (if it wasn’t for the fact that Phantom spiced up his jumpsuit with t-shirts and whatnot sometimes then this would have been a very boring one). Kwan also surprised him some, apparently he’s spent the past year or so sneaking photos of Phantom eating and did a piece on Phantom’s rather peculiar food tastes (who dips their pickles in milkshakes???) as well as effectively providing proof for the existence of ectoplasmic food (there’s no way any earth apples are neon green on the inside). Dash’s wasn’t even correctly calculated, trying to figure out how far Phantom could throw footballs based on his known strength and if he could kill someone by tackling them (disturbingly the answer -regardless of Dash’s bad math- was decidedly yes. Daniel seemed particularly disturbed). And Paulina’s was quite literally a badly written self-insert ship fan fic; the added drawings of what their child would look like only made it worse (Daniel left, not that Lancer could blame him. Lancer’s also glad for the ghost fight interrupting the presentation). Emilie’s was... disturbingly about ghost hunger and purposed the thesis that Phantom, for the good of the town, should eat the aggressor ghosts (he actually had to cut her off for getting too graphic).

But the single most interesting thing was that a ghost apparently caught wind of this and literally Every. Single. Presentation so far had words that were permanently replaced with [REDACTED], which, needless to say, caused some chaos when Samantha gave the very first presentation.

-

Lancer clicked his pen, crossing his legs and resting the evaluation sheet on his thigh, “alright, Samantha. Feel free to start whenever you please, though soon would be preferred”, by ‘preferred’ he had meant required, but no need to be mean. He chooses to ignore the goth teen's eyeroll.

Predictably the projected screen doesn’t work when she opens her file so Lancer has to spend ten minutes fiddling with the outdated tech that they wouldn’t give the school funding to replace. Eventually, he does get it up and running showing Ms. Manson’s title screen reading ‘Phantom And Hate Crimes Against Blood Blossoms’. Lancer’s positive ‘blood blossoms’ are a type of flower, figures she would do something nature-focused. She’d make for a great herbalist or botanist someday. He does catch Daniel and Tucker giving her ‘death glares’, as the kids call it, though; Samatha doesn’t look any less smug. The second page has what he thinks was supposed to be a detailed drawing of a flower but it’s severely pixilated, almost as if it been blurred; Samantha looks visibly upset so he’s going to assume something when wrong with the file or pasting format. He’s not marking on artistic capabilities though, so effort is effort there.

She quickly clicks to the next page, where the actual writing of the assignment is and looks decidedly pissed; Lancer even quirks an eyebrow since at least two-thirds of the words are a very bold noticeable [REDACTED]. Lancer watches her yank out her physical copy while glaring with murderous intent at Daniel -Lancer will have to dock him marks if he messed with another student's project- before looking at the physical copy in bafflement for a few seconds. Half the class shrieking when she drops the papers and basically launches herself over the desks at Daniel, “OH YOU LITTLE FUCKER!!!! HOW THE FUCK!”.

Lancer’s sighs and stands, “language, Ms. Manson”, moving to pick up the papers and quirking an eyebrow over them looking the same. Sighing again and eyeing Daniel, who’s being choked -or throttled perhaps?- by Samantha yet is grinning innocently. “Daniel, messing with other students' work is against student policy”, sighing yet again, “and I’ll let Star go while Samantha fixes her document”, summoning up the blonde while glaring at Daniel. Some days that boy was more trouble than he was worth but he was also insanely bright and had a heart of gold. Lancer knows he’ll do good things someday, and that’s why he still tries with him.

Half the class is snickering or laughing now and Star is very clearly trying not to laugh as she sets up.

However, as soon as it opens up the class is met with a very familiar sight. [REDACTED] litters every single page; he checked. And Star’s physical copy was in the same state.

Kwan blinks, “okay seriously, what is going on”, before scrambling to grab out his own physical copy; the rest of the class going wide-eyed and following suit. Lancer just puts his head in his hands and sighs very audibly while shaking his head. Why could nothing go right? Sighing again as the class erupts into noise.

“Mines all weird too!”.

“Same here!”.

“Okay there is no way Fenturd messed up everyone’s work”.

“And I actually tried on mine! It was about the merits of Phantom getting armour!”.

“Oh damn do we just get auto hundreds now? Please please please say yes”.

“Oh damn, Phantom would actually look awesome in armour”.

“I know right”.

“Can we just skip class entirely now?”.

“Oh my Zone a ghost messed with or work”.

“Holy Shit”.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! You don’t think Phantom did do you?”.

“Why the heck would he do that? How would he even know??????”.

“Oh I hope Phantom was inside my computer. That would be so hot”.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe someone told him or he overheard shit. He’s a ghost, he can be invisible. Heck, he could be here, right now, invisible”.

“Invisible and laughing at us”.

“No! No! Hold up! What if he doesn’t want us writing about him or maybe someone wrote some sus shit and he just nerfed us all for good measure”.

“That would mean Phantom totally read my stuff, aw Hell yeah man. That was some boss shit”,

Lancer sighs and stands up, “alright that’s enough”, sighing again because why did this have to happen to him, “and I apologies for blaming you earlier, Daniel”.

Samantha snaps, “oh no, I still blame him”, and continues glaring at the teen. Lancer suspects Samantha would continue blaming the boy even if it was firmly proven he wasn’t at fault.

Addressing the class again, “here’s what we’re going to do, you’re going to read off what of your projects you actually can and allude to the rest. Please reframe from repeating what you know was there beforehand as I’d rather not have whatever ghost responsible -Phantom or otherwise- come here pissed off”, glaring at few students who look slightly encouraged rather than discouraged by that prospect, “anyone who does will receive automatic zeroes”, ah and the encouraged looks have deflated. Good. Gesturing at Star, “you’re already up here, so do continue”. Better to not bring the clearly infuriated Samantha back to the front until she’s had some time to calm down.

Star nods and clears her throat, thankfully everyone quiets down. “O-okay, well, um”, gesturing at the screen, “I did my piece on Phantom’s sense of fashion and the cover image was one with him dressed in one of the Spook Sense stores meme shirts....”.

-

Lancer shakes away the memory, he honestly slightly regrets giving this project. But regardless right now is Daniel’s turn and Lancer is honestly slightly fearful of what his file is going to look like. Thankfully all their files were saved to his computer before the [REDACTED] debacle, so no one could go back in and edit theirs to add [REDACTED]’s for an easy grade. Lancer’s still not exactly sure how he’s supposed to mark assignments that were anywhere from one-fifth to one-third [REDACTED]. That word will be burned into his head after this grading period.

Lancer moves to find the boys file, but stares when clicking it crashes the computer. Not once. Not twice. But thrice. The fourth time rebooting the computer he inspects the file and is a bit dumbfounded, “Daniel, your entire file’s corrupted. The file type has even been changed to redacted, which I’m fairly sure, isn’t actually any possible file designation”. Everyone’s silent for a bit before bursting out into laughter.

“Just what the Zone did you write, Danny!”.

“Oh we so have to know what this is now”.

“Danny has the forbidden knowledge! We haft found him! The keeper of things forbidden and Ghostly! Haza!”.

“Ha! It was probably so lame that Phantom wanted to save him the embarrassment”.

Lancer sighs, but Daniel gestures Tucker up, “hey Tuck, feel like trying to fix the file”. Tucker chuckles and walks up, though apparently glaring at the boy. Based on Daniel’s smirk he finds this quite amusing.

Tucker does manage to make the file viewable at least. Lancer nods and leans back in his seat, “thank you, Mr. Foley”, while the file loads on screen.

Tucker sits back down with a head shake while Daniel stands at the front and gestures to the screen, “aight, as you can see from my not redacted title-”, that earns a couple laughs, “I did mine on Phantom’s portfolio of crime. Every single time our dear Phantom broke ghost law. Including such wonderful things as, that time he caused not one, not two, not even three, but five, prison breaks in one day. Or that time he invalidated a Observant spectator duel by bringing an inflatable sword”. Samantha slams a hand on her desk, “IT IS YOUR FAULT YOU DICK!”.

Lancer has some serious questions as Daniel clicks for the next page, the entire class going dead silent as a screen comprising of almost nothing but the word [REDACTED] shows. Lancer sighs very audibly. Eventually the class starts up again.

“Fenton... actually has forbidden knowledge”.

“If it wasn’t for the teacher computer saved thing I’d think he was fucking with us”.

“I mean... he is a Fenton, right?”.

“Okay the fact that this entire presentation is on ghost crimes is concerning alone. But they’re forbidden ghost crimes at that”.

“Shit I wanted the tea. Damnit”.

“Better question, how does Danny know?”.

Daniel clicking the button to go forward is very audible. And, Chicken Soup For The Soul, every single page is [REDACTED] to the point of being completely and utterly unintelligible. There are occasional lines pointing out how Phantom apparently ate confetti at a ghosts third wedding (which is apparently illegal for some reason) or that time he beat someone up with a violin that had a pie inside it (Lancer can see this one, Lancer himself has smacked a ghost with stranger).  Literally the only photo that isn’t blurred beyond recognition is one of Phantom in a prison uniform (Paulina was very vocal about liking men in uniform here). Lancer is absolutely positive the end of his conclusion ‘[REDACTED] are a bunch of [REDACTED]’ is an insult.

Samantha chucks a boot at his smirking face, “YOU IDIOT. Of course they were going to block you from talking about them. Ancients, I can’t believe you”. Tucker’s busy laughing into his hand.

“Oh my Zone, they know too”.

“They’re really earning that weirdo trio title, huh”.

Daniel snickers as he sits back down, “they broke into my room and wrecked that epic puzzle I was working on. They shoulda seen this shit coming. Literally”. Tucker snorts, “they probably did but couldn’t do anything else about it. They can’t stop you and your endless bullshit”.

“Damn fucking straight”.

Lancer isn’t going to claim to know what exactly they’re talking about but apparently Daniel effectively orchestrated this entire fiasco just to annoy some ghost. Lancer is honestly more impressed than disturbed. A for effort but an A- for making everyone's work nigh unusable.

End.

Prompt: For the last project of their senior year in high school, Mr. Lancer is letting his class do presentations on literally whatever topic they want. He is very, /very/ sure that this is going to go poorly, but that's a problem for later...

[descendantofthesparrow]

Regained Passion - Harry Hook x Reader - Part 2 - proper meeting

=

Harry let out a slow breath as he stared into the void in his history class, it had been a full week since he started the dance classes, and almost every day Bert mentioned putting him into a higher experienced class due to his flexibility and the fact that Harry was already a good dancer. But again, Harry wasn’t into the dance class that much, he liked dancing, it's just he didn't like being forced to dance.

His counselor had tried to ask about his first week but Harry was stubborn as usual, even glaring at her during it. She had sighed and rubbed her nose “I can't help you if you don’t open up to me Mr. Hook” Harry had only glared again, he didn’t want or need her help, yeah, he was a little fucked up in the head but if he wanted therapy or a consular, he would get it, not something FG forced on him.

After history finally ended, Harry grabbed his backpack and walked out of the room, sighing in relief as he realized he only had one class left, and it was his favorite, history of sailors and the seven seas. It talked all about pirates and sailors, particularly one of his favorite pirates, Jack Sparrow. One of the few pirates that had escaped isle imprisonment, due to him being pardoned of his crimes after it was discovered that his branding of a pirate had been connected to his freeing of hundreds of slaves.

Harry froze as a now very familiar face stepped into the hall he was walking in, she was looking down at her book, her black backpack hanging off her shoulder, bringing her denim jacket down with it off her shoulder, revealing her gray t-shirt. She suddenly looked up, her sparking (e/c) eyes once again locking with his.

Harry felt the butterflies flood his body again and he ducked into the next hall, away from his class, and pressed himself against the wall, sliding down as he closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands ‘what am I doing?’ he thought, gritting his teeth ‘hiding from a pretty girl? What the hell?’

“Are you hiding from me?” Harry jumped and slammed his head against the locker behind him, looking up to see the girl, who had covered her mouth in shock from Harry's sudden motion “Are you okay?”

“Me? Hiding? No-no I don’- I don’t hide” Harry laughed off his embarrassment, standing from the floor and rubbing the back of his head, wincing slightly “I don’ hide from anyone” the girl smirked and rose her brow as she tilted her head.

“I looked up and as soon as I made eye contact you leaped behind the wall, and then stayed there until I came around the corner, I think that classifies as hiding.” Harry pouted at her, his heart going crazy as she laughed. “Now why would you hide from me? Im, not my brother mind you” Harry rose his brow at that.

“Who’s yer brother?” Harry asked, smirking as she made a sour face.

“Chad” Harry grimaced, relaxing a bit as she laughed again.

“I’m so sorry” her eyes widened a bit and she laughed even harder.

“I accept your condolences, he’s not a fun person to be related to, it took me a month to convince half the school that Chad and I are very different even though we're twins” Harry looked at her up at down, she didn’t look like Chad? “I know, fraternal twins though”

Harry hummed, nodding along, he remembered a couple of sets of twins on the isle, and even when they were “identical” twins, they didn’t look exactly like each other sometimes. “You’re Harry Hook, right?” Harry nodded again, ignoring the flutter of his heart as she said his name “I’m (y/n), (y/n) Charming” (y/n) held out her hand, giving Harry a warm smile.

“Dinne think yeh would even say hi ta me, considering wha’ yer brother has probably told yeh ‘bout meh” he took her hand, stilling for a moment as he felt a small shock ran up his arm and through his body. Shit what the hell was going on with him!?

“Well,” (y/n) laughed, once again sending butterflies through his gut “after almost 18 years of dealing with his dumbass, I've learned to not trust his word, if he says you’re a ‘filthy pirate’ then you aren’t all that bad” Harry smirked and shook his head, not seeing (y/n) freeze for a moment and stare at his lips.

“Yer somethin’ else I’ll tell yeh tha’” he laughed, biting the inside of his cheek as (y/n) looked away from him and fixed her backpack strap. “What’s yer next class?”

“Um-“ (y/n) started, pursing her lips a bit as she thought “Oh! History of sailors and the seven seas!” Harry couldn’t help the smile that grew on his lips.

“Same ‘ere, shall I escort yeh yer highness?” (y/n) gave him a look, then smiled.

“You may” (y/n) laughed, taking his arm as he offered it and they chatted quietly as Harry walked them both to class.

-

Harry threw his pencil on his table as he finished his English homework, leaning back in his chair and sighing. “Hey, Harry?” Uma started, looking up from her magic homework (a new class that FG had made for the magic endowed vks that needed to learn how to control their magic safely)  “You made goody-goody with Chad's sister right?” Harry looked over his shoulder to her, raising his brow.

“Aye? Why?” a devious look overcame Uma’s face, and Harry sat up “Uma” Harry started, a warning tone to his voice, they had just gotten to Auradon two months ago, at the start of the school year, and he loved Uma with all his heart but if she was trying to plan to overtake Auradon by using (y/n) he would have to put his foot down (which he didn’t know why he would defend the girl so eagerly, even turning against his oldest friend like that)Auradon was a lot nicer than they thought and he’d rather not lose the comfy bed and fresh food he had just gotten.

“Oh chill!” Uma scoffed, waving her hand and rolling her eyes “I’m not planning any takeovers or whatever, I wanted to know if she gets along with her brother or not” Harry mentally sighed in relief and leaned back in his chair again.

“Um, no, I said sorry to her that she was his sister and she accepted my condolences, called him a dumbass too” Uma smirked again, a glint in her eye…he knew that glint, it was the glint of pranks “Oh! Do yeh want me ta-“

“Yes,” Uma interrupted him, rubbing her arms together as he saw a plan forming in her mind “ask her if she wants to help us prank Chad, fucker decided to ‘accidentally” Uma used finger quotes “spill grape juice all over my new jacket, and we all know that shit stains, didn’t even apologize either” Harry grit his teeth. Chad, one of the very few teens at Auradon prep that still harassed the vks, he was a bully and a thief, something Harry could respect on the isle but even on the isle you didn’t bully Uma without getting Harry’s hook to your face.

“I’ll ask ‘er when next time I see ‘er, we don’ have a lot of classes together, and her dance class ends after mine” Uma smirked at that, leaning into her hand.

“How are those going by the way?” Harry just let out a raspberry, and Uma fell back on Gil’s bed, laughing away.

-

The next day, after Harry's dance class, he waited outside (y/n)s room, standing awkwardly and out of place as others passed by him, some looking at him oddly while others ignored him or simply glanced at him.

There were one or two flirtatious looks but Harry ignored those, continuing to wait for (y/n). about fifteen minutes of waiting, the class finally ended, and as (y/n)s fellow dancers exited the room, many of them stared at him, whispering amongst themselves for a moment before one turned to him. “(y/n)s talking to Esmerelda, she’ll be in there for a moment” She had a strong French accent and Harry nodded in thanks, the group finally moving on as the girl who had spoken up pushed them away from the room.

After a couple more moments of waiting Harry got impatient, walking up to the door and peeking in, seeing (y/n) standing in front of Esmerelda, looking down at her feet “(y/n) your posture is perfect, your leg is always perfectly straight during the Penché, everything you do during practice is perfect but…there's just no…passion (y/n), where is it? You are only doing the steps, you aren’t feeling the music, where is the love, the sorrow, the yearning? This is a dance to convey two people falling in love (y/n), and I don’t see any of it coming from you” Harry felt his chest hurt as Esmerelda sighed, looking away from (y/n) who stayed silent. “(y/n) if you can't find the passion I need for the piece…I’m going to have to switch you out, I’m sorry” (y/n) looked up at that, and Harry couldn’t see her face but he could tell there were tears in her eyes “You are one of my best dancers (y/n), but without passion, you are doing nothing but following the steps.” (y/n) nodded slowly. Esmerelda smiled and took her chin “You just have to find your spark again, I know you can do it…I’ll see you tomorrow” (y/n) nodded again, turning to grab her bag.

Harry ducked out of the doorframe and went back to lean against the wall, looking down at his converse as he waited for (y/n). “Harry?” he looked up, (y/n) walking toward him from the door and tilting her head “What are you doing here?”

Harry smirked, it turning to a smile as (y/n) smiled back. Good, that meant she wasn’t super down from her talk with Esmerelda. “I was wonderin’ if yeh wanted ta help Uma n’ I prank Chad~” Harry had hardly finished his sentence before (y/n) grinned, stepping even close to him.

“Hell yes!” Harry shared her grin and offered his arm again, walking her out of the building and back to the dorms to Uma’s room, where Uma would tell them her plan.

-

Two days later, Chad’s hair was puke green. And he didn’t suspect a damn thing, even as (y/n) held her laughter as she stood next to him, sharing a sly thumbs up with Harry and Uma as they cackled at him.

“You’re definitely cut from a different fabric princess” Uma chuckled, Harry moving to the side of the bench he and Uma were sitting on as you walked over to them when Chad bolted off screaming after realizing his hair was green (for someone who stared at himself almost all day it took him a while to notice his hair) (y/n) grinned in thanks and plopped down next to Harry, not noticing Uma’s smirk as Harry scooted closer to (y/n).

“I’ll take that as a compliment” (y/n) laughed, leaning against the table and looking towards the door “How long do you think it’ll be before Chad suspects us?”

“Three days” Gil decided, suddenly appearing and sitting down next to Uma. And as usual, holding a bowl of grapes “I give it three days”

(y/n) hummed at that, tapping her fingers on the table “Well Chad is smart,” (y/n) laughed a bit at Uma and Harry's look of ‘really?!’ “I know shocking…well less smart more cunning, but I say he’ll either figure it out by the end of the day or he’ll bolt up in the middle of the night and then figure it out, can't say which or when, but it’s one of those”

“By the way,” Gil interrupted (y/n), pointing his finger right at her “who are you?” Gil had been out of the room every time (y/n) came over to Uma or Harry and Gil's room to plan for the plank, so oddly enough he had yet to meet (y/n) before today.

“Gil!” Harry hissed through his teeth, Uma smirking once more at his reaction. (y/n) laughed and held out her hand.

“I’m (y/n), (y/n) Charming, Chad’s sister” Gil took her hand and shook it, giving her a sympathetic look.

“I’m so sorry” (y/n) laughed again, unknowingly sending a flurry of butterflies through Harry again.

“Harry said the same thing a couple days ago, I accept your condolences” Gil released (y/n)s hand and went back to his grapes as Uma intertwined her hands and looked at (y/n)

“So you and Harry go to the same dance school, right? Do you ever dance together?” Harry felt his cheeks turn red at the question and he pouted at Uma, not really wanting to bring up the topic of the classes he hated so much.

“I guess? Different classes but same building, I’m a ballet dancer, been one since I was a kid. Harry, I think is still in the beginner class but Harry?” He glanced at (y/n) with a raised bro and a hum “You said Bert’s thinking of upgrading your placement?” Harry huffed and leaned on his hand.

“Aye, somethin’ bout me being a higher level than beginner, I dinne kae I din’ listen more than tha’” both Uma and (y/n) hummed at that. “I din’ even wan’ ta do the damn classes in the first place so I don’t see why I should level up or whatever” Harry grumbled, pouting at nothing.

Uma forced the grin off her face. Harry, ever since he had made friends with (y/n), started to be more…enthusiastic when going to the studio, no longer dragging his feet. And after the first time he picked up (y/n) from her class he did it the next day, and the next. Uma knew Harry and she knew he was catching feelings for the princess, even if he himself didn’t realize it yet.

Harry had only known the princess for about a month now, but Uma could tell when Harry liked someone, and he really-really liked (y/n), he wouldn’t admit it until he knew what words to connect his feelings yet but, Uma could wait.

Now, Uma wouldn’t do anything to push Harry and (y/n) together yet, she didn’t know if (y/n) shared any feelings about Harry, but once Uma did find out? Oooh, it was going to be fun.

But for now? Uma watched (y/n) and Harry talk, smiling behind her hand at the sparkle within Harry's eye, she would sit and watch their relationship bloom.

-end of part 2-

part 2~ hope yall enjoyed and like (y/n) so far, and i do want to put a *sprinkle* of angst in this so it'll come with (y/n)s struggle to show feeling in her dance and maybe some Chad shenanigan's anyway~ yeah i think this will be a 10 part series at most, and im liking where its going atm.

anyway im gonna draw a blue ballgown now because i don't like any of the designs i found on google or Pinterest

Permtaglist

@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​ @lunanight2012​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​ @musicarose​ @random-thoughts-003​

@remembered-license​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @rintheemolion​

@imtryingthisout​ @verboetoperee​ @jatp-rules-my-life​

[buttterknifeee]

Tims S/O vs. the batfam

You, the reader, are Tim’s significant other. Congrats! you may think the hard parts over right? WRONG. you need to win over the whole ass Wayne family and heres how it goes.

Alfred

refers to you as Mx. L/N; however as you visit the manor more frequently, he begins to refer to you as Mx. Y/N

Since he refers to you as Mx. Y/N, you call him Mr. Alfred because you feel weird calling him just by his first name

No matter what first impressions you gave off to him, he never shared them due to not wanting to be impolite

you quickly realize that none of the bat fam helps with the chores, so you try to lend alfred a hand whenever possible

you try to be polite as possible around him, and he appreciates it

Dick

Is EXTREMELY protective of Tim

So when you first met him, he did the whole “you break my brother’s heart i will break your face” talk and that was TERRIFYING

Tim tells you not to worry about it, but whenever you were with Tim, you could sense Dick out of the corner of your eye, watching

However, as you spend more time around him, he sees that you’re really in love with tim and hes really in love with you

And you see that tim and dick have an amazing brotherly relationship, something you’ve never experienced yourself

One night, you tell dick that you wish that you had a brother as great as him

In that moment, he decided that he was gonna adopt you as one of his siblings and boom hes your big brother too now.

Duke

Duke being considered the newest person in the Wayne Manor, is basically your liaison, explaining all the dynamics and history of the Wayne Family/Manor

Super Charismatic, though hes clearly being observant of your every move, analyzing who you are as a person

But for the most part, he made you feel really comfortable at the manor

So the day you bought him a 1000 puzzle set was the day you basically won him over

You let him geek out about film and riddles, listening to every word he said, which was something that apparently didn’t happen often to him

Also duke straight up just third wheels you as often as he can

Jason

so basically

you were scared of jason

He was rarely at that manor, especially while you were there but when he was, he came in dragging blood or drinking alcohol

once while you were alone in one of the rooms by yourself, Jason came in, mask off, bandage on his right arm

he asked you, “so why are you dating replacement?”

“Why do you call him replacement?”

“Oh you know, because he replaced me when I died”

“oh. right.” Yeah you’re kinda stupid for that one

It takes a while for you to remember that jason is a vigilante who literally died and came back to life, and it takes him a while  to remember that you’re a teenager and not a crime fighting super hero

so yeah your relationship does improve a bit

Whenever you guys get to talk, he always asks you some really deep question that throws you off guard, but you guys end up having really meaningful discussions and you get closer with him that way

Cass

you were even more scared about Cass than Jason

She just silently stared at you sometimes: didn’t even try to hide it

Like duke, she analyzed you a lot during your first meeting with her, although she did it to a more extreme: just by looking at you, she could sense your breathing, heartrate, movements; she was basically reading you soul

From this, should was able to tell just how absolutely frightened you were to meet her, so she made sure to smile to calm you down

Whenever you were alone with her you couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward; not only was there a bit of a language barrier but she was not the most talkative person, at times you just sat in silence

So you would try to do things with her rather than talking: you showed her pictures from your phone, she showed you her fighting moves, and you made conversation through facial expressions and body movements

Steph

VERY AWKWARD SHE PROBABLY HATED YOU IMMEDIATELY THE FIRST TIME YOU MET

i mean whos gonna be happy about seeing their ex’s new s/o not her nope

She kept smiling and laughing but you could see the burning hatred behind her eyes

It took a solid month before she actually talked to you

and it took another month for you to pluck up the courage to ask if she actually hated you

She looked embarrassed and admitted that she did kinda hate you in the beginning but that was solely because you were dating her ex, but she saw how good of a person you were, so she doesn’t hate you anymore

She asked if you hated her, since she kind of ignored you in the beginning

You said no, since she was so cool and you could see why Tim dated someone like her

Yeah so now you’re besties

And you often talking about Tim and his dating antics, sometimes right in front of him lol

Sometimes she would joke about stealing you from him, making sure to give you extra long hugs, and give u a kiss on the cheek just to piss Tim off >:)

Barbara

definitely looked up all your information as soon as she found out you were dating tim

Immediately went to interview mode when she met you

Asked about your future plans with tim, your job, your future college choices, your darkest fears, your median income

“... Im like 16″

Asides from that, shes pretty chill

you dont see her often, but she’s always down for a talk!

Would acted like my aunt from new jersey (in a good way)

Damian

You were super nervous about meeting him

Tim recalled events with him like he was recalling a war

So you were surprised to see a 12 year old kid being the one shooting daggers at you

“Drake brought home another guy/girl/person”

“damian shut the fuck up”

one day you catch him painting in his room

You ask him about his various paintings and he tells you his inspirations from each, going on a long rant for a solid hour

He realizes that hes been lecturing you for an hour and looked at you, blushing a bit

“Damian, you’re an amazing artist.” you say. smiling 

Now Damian always tells tim that you’re too good for him, and everytime you banters with tim damian always took your side

Except when he saw you two kissing/cuddling, he would call you guys “disgusting pigs” and bolt out of the room

Bruce

ah, bruce. the final boss

You couldn’t help but feel absolutely terrified. 

I mean not only is he a super mega rich business man and also like super famous but hes also BATMAN

you are also almost certain that he doesn’t know who you are despite being with tim for a few months by now

Everytime youre both in the same room he is often too busy to look up from whatever hes doing or rushing past you to go somewhere

Tim often confides in you about being the middle child in the family, meaning that sometimes people dont notice him and its really frustrating for him and for you to hear

One day u and tim are chilling in the batcave and bruce comes it and freezes when he sees the two of you

“who are y- what are you doing here-”

“oh um hello Mr. Wayne”

Bruce kinda just looked at you with a perplexed look, but that was when damian and cass walked by

“Father. Drake. Y/N” said damian, with Cassandra smilng and waving at you, to which you wave back.

“Hey Damian” you say nonchalantly. “I saw that you’re working on a new painting. youll have to tell me ALL about it later.”

“Of course. Im sure you’re aware of Georgia O’Keeffe” 

You smiled and nodded, to which he gave the tiniest of a smile back as he and cass headed for the training room

Bruce just stared at you even more perplexed than before, I mean, you just made damian smile

You glanced at Tim, who seemed just as uncomfortable as you

“Oh yeah Y/N, didn’t we have that movie we were gonna watch? yeah lets go like right now.” Tim said as he pulled your arm took you out of the batcave, giving bruce the well talk later look

After that instance he talk to some of his children about you, and they had nothing but good things to say. Even Jason, who literally kills people for a living, put in a good word about you.

The next time you visited the manor, you were greeted by bruce himself, dressed up in a business suit.

“Y/N, correct?” he pulled out his large calloused covered hand and held it towards you

After a brief moment you smiled and took it

“Yeah, thats me”

[imemeyoumemeweallmeme]

Quotes from “Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier” as starters

But today could be the day I finally make a difference!

Where are you off to today, you no good piece of shit?

You’ve got to dream a little harder!

It took you long enough, you shit-eating dog.

Oh, so you think you're better than me just because you can read?

Just try to keep your fat face out of that motherfucking book.

Why am I the only one who sees things as they are?

Oh, ___, sometimes I feel you're my only friend in this world.

Today, things got a little out of hand and a lot of good people are dead.

Did we get the loaf of bread back?

Why do you even bother visiting us commoners anymore, you aristocat?

I sure hope you haven't goofed this one up, ___.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at this mess. Dead bodies in the street.

Did you know in this barbaric country they only give you money if you work?

Who would seek employment when life offers such enjoyment?

You're only in trouble if you get caught.

My father says that you must marry me now, or I'll bring dishonor to my entire family.

I can't give up on my dreams and settle down just 'cause your dad's being a dick.

‘Cause you stole my daughter’s hymen!

That’s completely fair, but in my defense - dude, your daughter’s hot.

My ass cheeks…they're hanging out.

And what's this? Blood. Blood on my ass cheeks. Tell me, ___, how the fuck did it get there?

Oh I am grateful for your tiny ass, ___!

This really is an act of war, ___!

Do not feed me shit and call it couscous, ___!

Well an hour free is better than a lifetime in a cage. Being fed and pampered and cleaned up after. What kind of a life is that?

When are you going to learn that your actions have consequences?

One of these days, you're going to learn that life isn't about dreams coming true. It's a series of compromises and disappointment.

That's supporting a corrupt system. You're a part of the problem.

I want everything, and more!

My secret is simple, really. Anyone could do it. I just follow the golden rule!

Always treat others like sisters and brothers and they’ll do the same for you.

I get back what I give!

My hunger blinded me and forced me to act like an animal.

But we're not animals. We're gifted with minds to reason and hearts to love!

I think that's enough fun for one day, eh, ___?

Well, we have our own golden rule here. Whoever has the gold…makes the rules.

The gold that my neighbor earns through his labor is gold I’ll never see.

So keep your mouth shut and your palm open, and you may just get...filthy stinkin' rich!

You could start by telling me your name.

I suppose this will be the end of me.

I am a servant to the people, and therefore your servant.

Magic does nothing if not touch the soul.

I want to know your story, I want to know your past, I want to know your future too.

Fill my days and nights with the tale of you.

I never cared for stories until you entered mine.

Let’s make ours the story with no end.

Their mouths aren't fit to hold a donkey's shit.

Many years ago, I took my finger…and I pushed in my penis…and it hasn't come out since.

A very wise and enthralling tale, ___. We can all learn a lesson from it, I expect.

Where's my opium?

Speak now, ___! And don't fuck it up!

Well, maybe I have a new purpose now.

That is what your story is about.

I wish I had the power to rewrite this tale.

Never stop wishing it, ___.

We will be reunited one day, and unlock wonders beyond your wildest dreams!

After all, I must be pretty great, if you believed in me.

I only hope you haven't fallen prey to some sex-crazed ruffian!

Right this way, babe.

This is so unfair! Poor people need slaves just as much as rich people do! Maybe even a little bit more.

Of course it's a free thinker like who's struggling to get by. And all because of our totally corrupt class system.

I hate the class system. That's why I said, "Fuck it, I'm never going to school again."

So, you abandoned everything, to be free? That is so brave.

Brave? Me? Yeah.

All my parents ever did was support me. Give me a place to stay, tell me they loved me, no matter what. They were really bad parents.

How's a thirty-three-year-old kid supposed to know how to survive on his own?

But that is not fair! ___’s a victim of circumstance!

Don't look at me like that! These are my orders from ___.

Wait, wait, what? You slit people's throats? I didn't tell you to kill anyone! This is awful!

___, no. That is just an expression.

I'm gonna have so much gold I could swim through it! Like a pool. Do you think people can really do that?

Once I get my mind set on a chick, I just can't move on until I get this nut out.

I can’t wait to be a rich dude!

Stealing is so much easier when you’ve got already tons of gold.

We’ll get our happy ending tonight.

We weren't sure if you were ever coming back, ___.

Everyone, look at my ass!

You received the manhood of a badger?

Those are stretch marks, they happen.

Oh, I see! You received the manhood of a tiger!

Did you hear that, lads? ___ made love to a tiger!

Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker!

I DID NOT FUCK A TIGER!!!

Am I not a thing of beauty? Don't you want a piece of this? Wouldn't you gladly give up all of your worldly possessions just to greet me when I come home from a one-sided massacre, and bathe my sweaty, bloody body with your tongue?

Oh…you. Aren't you busy ruining my life?

I noticed you weren't at dinner, but I saw you tried to poison my wine. Usually when you do that, it means you want to talk. What's up, are you mad at me?

You ripped my heart out and smashed it into a million pieces. And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.

He/she/they was perfect! Like if you cobbled together all the best features from all the best guys/girls/people, and then gave them a tragic backstory! It's like he/she/they was designed specifically to appeal to me.

I knew everything about him/her/them! He/she/they was my soul mate! My -- my -- God, I am freaking out, what was his/her/their name?

Believe it or not, I care about you.

I don't want to be prepared. I want to expect the unexpected.

Look, you're young. You don't exactly get how things work yet. And, while I don't appreciate any of your ideas, I do appreciate the fact that you HAVE ideas. Maybe one day you'll have some GOOD ones.

Sexual predators the lot of them! Their tactics target vulnerable, young girls, and build up false senses of trust and then isolate them on magic rides of sorts. And when the moment is right, they whip it out. You know... their songs.

Be wary of young boys who whip out their songs. A song is often a prelude to a dick.

A song is a dick in sheep's clothing.

Can't you see I'm trying to impart a life lesson?

I feel like you only come to see me when there's bad news.

I counted thirteen dead before the peacocks got to them.

How the fuck did you know it was me?

Because it IS you, you're just wearing different clothes.

Wow. Pretty AND smart. You're the whole shebang, babe.

Everything I told you the other night was a lie. Don't you trust me?

Ugh. Oh no. Okay, um, now I'm kind of feeling like everything about you that was attractive to me before isn't really there anymore.

No! No, I'm just being indecisive. It's still you.

I've just got to get back on that high that I was on before.

Look into my eyes and talk to me some more about the world's injustice!

Sure. Just let me roll this blunt first.

But I don't want her/him/they to love me. I just want her/him/them to fuck me.

You guys know there's a way to get people to think about sex without even talking about sex? You just gotta do it subliminally.

Hey, babe, it's such a beautiful night -- take off your clothes.

But…let me ask you this: is your penis an innie or an outie?

___ explained everything to me. He/she/they was just pretending to be a ___. For fun.

I bet the ___ is under that ___ sized hat!

Bullshit! Why would I pretend to be a ___? Just to get laid? That's not me.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Why are you picking on me, ___? Afraid I'll reveal your little secret?

Whoa! I thought I was just bullshitting you guys!

What made me think that I could get away with such a plot?

How does the golden rule apply in such a situation?

Whichever road I take, I will only encourage someone’s wrath!

‘Til now I’ve always traveled down the straight and narrow path.

But which way do I turn when the road’s become so... so... twisted?

You think you know me, as others think they know you, but there are two sides to every story.

I was prepared for anything, except for what ensued.

They weren't ready for my ideas.

Fortune favors the beautiful.

My only crime was love.

But the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes what it wants, is twisted.

I only wished to reclaim what was mine!

I only wished for equal rights for all!

I only wished to save her/him/them!

I only wished to be invited to the party!

I only wished to improve relations between the races!

I only wished to teach ___ responsibility… so he/she/they wouldn’t end up like me!

I only wished to give the people a voice… To help the miserable, lonely, and depressed!

I never knew my father!

It's an unfortunate situation…But you do have a choice.

What remains of a man when that man is dead and gone?

Why protect my reputation? I’m a dead man/woman/person either way!

How will they tell my story? How will they tell my tale? Will anybody even care?

Is it nobler in the mind to be well-liked but ineffectual, or moral but maligned?

If I hide to save my life, what has my life been for?

The road ahead may twist, but I will never swerve!

I’ll give them all the unsung antihero they deserve!

I’ve nothing left to lose, to the only path to choose is twisted.

So let them twist my words, let the people scorn me.

Who cares if no one will ever mourn me?

Let them bury the side of the story that they’ll never learn!

Let the truth be twisted!

Let my life be twisted!

I’ll be twisted, it’s my turn!

Your armies have abandoned you. Your ruling class is corrupt and we have come to put an end to your tyrannical rule!

You'll never end our tyrannical rule!

It is I who will be doing the fucking today.

It appears that ___ has cold feet!

Yes I am talking to you! Now get your ass over here!

I've got to become a sorcerer! Can you do that?

Yes, I do feel lucky. I've got a ___! But I think he might be a fucking moron!

My fuse is about this long right now.

You either need to back me the fuck up, or shut the fuck up. Got it?

And what's the last thing you wanna do before that happens? Take off your clothes. That's right, have sex! Hurry, take off your clothes.

I'm not going to take off my clothes in the middle of a battle!

My skin is melting!

Would you stop acting like an asshole for one minute?

I'm not a tease. I'm just…not a freak.

You're making sex seem gross and lame.

You got that, ___? We are not a thing anymore, okay?

We're just having our first fight. Maybe after some make up sex…

You're the guy who killed my parents. Where have you been?

Okay, Jesus Christ, I don't know what's going on here.

That's the trick! You just really have to believe your own bullshit!

It takes someone who believes they can change the world to actually do it.

This isn't fair! Life is supposed to be fair!

Your youth and your passion, and yes, your naïveté -- these give you power.

When I was your age, I thought I could accomplish anything I ever wanted and more! But I didn't. Perhaps no one does. But you have to think you will or you won't have the strength to try.

Maybe you won't make any big changes, but a few little ones that pave the way for the next generation. And then they'll make small changes and leave it to the next and the next! It's a bit like a carousel of progress. Always spinning towards a great, big, beautiful tomorrow. And tomorrow is just a dream away.

But what if tomorrow never comes?

Tomorrow always comes. Even if it comes without us.

What will I do without you to guide me? When I am lost, where will I turn?

You remind me of someone I knew long ago.

You’re the one who put it there -- the power in me.

The power to love one another is the greatest power of all.

No matter where life leads us, we’ll never be apart.

Through thick and thin, success or ruin, I’ll carry you in my heart.

I will treasure forever what the world will never see.

You are kind, and that’s enough.

I wish you didn’t have to go when our story’s just begun.

Then I wish you every happiness.

It was more money than I had ever seen. But I was able to count it.

And that's the end of the true story.

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Bank Shot Job

leverage 1.05

I decided I’m also going to start highlighting meta material in these posts for reference reasons (like for fics, headcanons, meta, etc)

I’m colorcoading by what character the meta pertains to btw

Clerk: Hello, Judge Roy.

Judge Roy: [slaps her ass] Hey, sweetheart.

Frank: Can I help you, your honor?

Judge Roy: Yes, Fred. Her phone number?

Frank: It's Frank. And she's 19, sir.

Judge Roy: That's too bad. She got a younger sister

diSgUsTiNG

- - - - -

Hardison: No. No more. We gotta talk to Nate. No more rip deals. They take too damn long.

Parker (ripping paper): That's why they're called "Rip Deals". You have to convince them they're getting a deal before you can rip them off.

Hardison: Two weeks. Two weeks sleeping in crappy hotels. Two weeks eating in crappy diners. Two weeks having my soul sucked dry. It's 107 degrees. Who lives where it's 107 degrees?

Parker: Juan's not so bad. I kinda like this town

I wanna see that domestic shit of them sharing hotel rooms and eating the continental breakfasts and dingy diners and everything about them living in rundown hotels for two weeks

- - - - -

Hardison: You know, I had to retask two satellites just to get a lousy internet connection. Took more than an hour to torrent the last episode of Doctor Who.

Parker: Hey! Illegal downloading's wrong. (lights paper on fire in trash can)

that’s it. that’s their relationship.

- - - - -

Hardison: How we coming on the breakdown?

Eliot (loading truck elsewhere): Fake addresses are shut down. Post office boxes are closed. The phones are cleared. Five more minutes, we never existed

bruh those props ??? I wish I had a screenshot but wtf where they DOING for the con ???

- - - - -

Hardison: Want me to call the Delgado family, tell them the news?

Eliot: Nah. Soon as I clear county line I want to do it. I just wish we could do more than bankrupt that corrupt son of a bitch

eliot is so good you guys im-

- - - - -

Nate: Get out. Now.

Hardison: Is he talking to us?

Parker: An unmarked van parked across the street from a bank that's being robbed? Yeah. I think he's talking to us.

Hardison: Yeah, well, five more feet and he would have been in the clear. What the hell was he thinking?

Parker: Don't be an idiot, Hardison.

Hardison: What?

Parker: Sophie was still in there

parker knows nate loves sophie and would never leave her behind because she may not always get people, but even she can see how much nate cares for sophie

- - - - -

Derrick: Everyone empty your pockets. Wallets, purses, watches, everything you've got, throw it over here.

(everyone throwing stuff to center of floor)

nate threw his fucking toothpick

- - - - -

Deputy Arnold: No, right here, right here, and we need ...

(Eliot crosses police line)

Deputy Arnold: Whoa, whoa, I need you to take a step back, sir.

Eliot: Tell me what's going on in there.

Deputy Arnold: I'm afraid I can't do that, this is an active crime scene, and you need to ...

Eliot: (to cop) I'm not talking to you. (to Nate) How many are there?

Nate: Yeah, you're right. Clearly amateurs, these two. Yeah. The younger one, looks like he's never handled a gun before.

Eliot: Is judge blow-hard next to you?

Nate: Yeah, uh-huh. Yeah, definitely amateurs, That's what makes them so dangerous.

Eliot: Alright, 2 guys, both armed, neither one a criminal mastermind. You want me in there?

Deputy Arnold: Sir, we can't have you going inside the bank ...

Nate: Probably, uh, a good idea just to sit tight, don't you think? You know, and see where these guys' heads are

at, you know?

Eliot (backing away): Alright, your call boss.

Deputy Arnold: Thank you

poor deputy arnold + eliot being done with local law enforcement

- - - - -

Sophie: Okay. So what is the plan, Stan

“what’s the plan, stan” adorable.

- - - - -

(Eliot leans against a building across the street and watches Hardison and Parker pull up in a sedan)

Eliot: Nice ride.

Parker (taking notebook and removing badges): It's embarrassing. Everyone knows you don't rob a bank without an exit strategy. These two deserve to get caught. 42 seconds. (tosses notebook back to Eliot)

Hardison: What?

Parker: To rob this bank. One security guard who has never fired his gun before, 2 closed-circiut cameras outside, 1 inside, and a Glen-Reader safe built in the 50's whose default combination is the birth date of the manager's wife! Get in, get out, 42 seconds.

Hardison: Seriously

parker was so angry that she chucked the binder at eliot and he was like ??? we good ???

- - - - -

Hardison: Seriously? (to Bill) I'm Agent Leonard. This is Agent Elmore. We'll be taking over this crime scene,

Sheriff ...

Bill: Bill Hastings. Nice to meet you. You guys sure are quick, just called this in 20 minutes ago.

Hardison: Well, we were coming back from a little border skirmish. Patrol unit came under attack from a pack of Chupacabras.

Bill: Chupacabras? I thought those things were urban legend.

Hardison: You're adorable

I love it when hardison fucks with people it’s hilarious

- - - - -

Hardison: Whoa, what's going on?

Bill: Cut power to the bank. Standard operating procedure.

Hardison: Standard ... it's standard op ... it's standard? Where do you getting that bull-hockey from son?

Bill: Deputy Arnold, he took a seminar in crisis management last year.

Deputy Arnold: It was an online seminar. We got certificates.

Hardison: Certificates? Magic kits come with certificates. Does that make it cool for kids to saw their parents in half?

Bill: We're just going by the book.

Hardison: The ... the book? The book got a good man killed. I can't ... my blood pressure.

Parker: Ex-partner. Probably shouldn't mention the book again. Or propellers.

parker is doing so well with grifting considering and I’m so proud of her

- - - - -

Sophie: They are not cops, I promise you, they're friends of mine, you can trust them.

Derrick: Why should I trust you? I don't know who you are.

Sophie: I am a thief.

Derrick: Okay, I'm not sure what to do with that.

that’s it guys. that’s the show.

- - - - -

Nate: I didn't say it was going to be easy. But nothing's impossible, especially when you have the world's greatest thief on your payroll. Parker, have you ever robbed a bank that's being robbed?

Parker: There's a first time for everything.

her SMILE YOUR HONOR

- - - - -

Parker: The bank was built before 1980, before computers. Means it's got a larger than normal night deposit chute.

Hardison: 'Cause business had to drop off ledgers with their daily hauls. What, you thought my genius was only limited to ones and zeroes?

Parker: I'm thinking the chute's my way in. Only problem is, it's in the alley on this side of the building

the way she looks at hardison like damn boy you know my stuff

- - - - -

Hardison: I can take care of that, but, we actually have bigger problems.

Eliot: What's that?

Hardison: Well, Sheriff Coltrane over here called the FBI, the real FBI. Now the closes office is in San Diego, so they should be here, in about, um, give it 45 minutes.

Nate: We can't worry about that now.

Hardison: When do we worry about it?

Nate: In about 45 minutes

hardison, internally: lord give me strength

- - - - -

Hardison: Hold on ... Excuse me. (answers phone) Agent Leonard. We will do whatever you need us to do, just please, don't hurt anybody. Okay. (hangs up) Guys ... Boys, boys, come on, gather 'round. Now boys, that was THE call. The call we were waiting for. Now look, they have a list of demands. First off, they want 12 large pizzas. One cheese, one Hawaiian, extra pineapple. Two pepperoni and black olives, two meat lover's, t ... Seriously? Nobody's writing this down? Seriously? One triple-shot half-caf vanilla latte, tall,

(Parker goes down alley and opens deposit drop box)

Hardison: …three of the latest copies of the Hall and Oates CD. I know, right? Exciting stuff I didn't know they were coming out with a new one either. We're gonna need steaks. Steaks and a grill. They're trying to tailgate. Okay, they need your overalls, I don't know why. They need some kibbles n' bits, we need an Etch-A-Sketch, somebody in there likes to squiggle okay ... Are we good? Let's go people. Everybody. I need you guys moving. Everybody get out. Go. (hardison points at an officer) You stay. We need to talk about Hall & Oates.

I fucking loved this monologue,,, hardison is VERY GOOD at improvising

- - - - -

(Derrick opens night deposit box)

Parker: Hi.

Derrick (hands her the briefcase): There's a lot of money in there.

Parker: Yeah, I know.

Derrick: My wife's life depends on that money getting where it needs to go.

Parker: I understand. Sometimes bad guys are the only good guys you get

parker’s face softened and you can see that she understood. parker didn’t get people in the beginning of the show, and sure her values and ideas aren’t typical, but she was ALWAYS a good person. she cared and understood what was at risk and she consoled him.

also, this is yet another piece of evidence that parker was the main character all along!!! I’m not gonna go super into it because there are already posts out there about it, but she had three (3) episodes dedicated to her character in season one alone AND had her say what is basically the mission statement of the show here in this scene

- - - - -

Sophie: Things could be worse.

Nate: Worse than me getting shot and you blowing our cover?

Sophie: No, no, you're not gonna lay that crap on me. We wouldn't even be in this mess if you'd just walked out with the cash when you had the chance. I would've been fine.

Nate: I know.

Sophie: Yeah, I can take care of myself. I've been doing it a long time. Since way before I met you. I'm just saying.

Nate: Yeah, you're right.

Sophie: Okay

nate knows sophie is a strong independent woman and that is one of the only things I stan about him lol

- - - - -

Sophie: We lost communication.

Nate: Yeah, we did.

Sophie: Hardison, Parker, and Eliot ...

Nate: That's right, they are on their own. Yup.

they ended up doing great on their own, but also, can we acknowledge what a glow up it was building up to the rundown job ???

- - - - -

(Mom gets out of truck and tries to run)

Meth #2: Where the hell you think you're going, old lady? (pulls mom back) Where the hell you think you're g ...

Eliot (catches Meth #2’s arm): Hey, what smells like crank and screams like a girl? (Takes his gun and breaks his knee)

Meth #2: AAHH!

Eliot (kicks car door closed before Meth #3 can get out, empties the bullets from gun): That's the right answer. (throws gun into car at #3, hits #1 as he approaches) Come on. (fights #1, kicks door shut, beats #1 more, kicks door again) Stay in the car. (beats the hell out of #3 and #1, kneels down near mom and removes her gag)

Mom: Who are you?

Eliot: Well ma'am, we'd be the cavalry.

this entire fight scene always has me ROLLING it’s so funny

also I’m not sure if this should go on the List Of Non-Weapon Objects Eliot Uses As Weapons but eliot DID use the car door in the fight

- - - - -

Sophie: Just let the paramedics take him. The rest of us will stay.

Judge Roy: And give up my leverage

*sophie and nate look at each other*

both, internally: tHATS OUR WORD

- - - - -

Nate: Hey, listen. She's gonna be alright. Everything's gonna be alright

Derrick: Your people ... they're good?

Nate: Yeah. The best.

nate’s smile when he says that??? proud dad alert

- - - - -

Sophie (looking at replay of tape): You're still a geek.

Judge Roy: They're trying to ruin me.

Hardison: Geek power, baby. Stay strong!

in other words: age of the geek, baby

also- kudos to 2008 hardison editing video like that. I can’t do that shit with today’s tech lmao

- - - - -

Bill: Go home now. Bank robbers are in custody, hostages are safe. FBI's got the whole thing wrapped up.

Taggert: Do you have any idea what?

Mcsweeten: Just go with it.

Deputy Arnold: Mr. FBI guys, can you help me here?

Bill: My, my. Look at this. Our local drug boys, both with outstanding warrants. It's incredible.

Taggert: Damn, we're good!

mcsweeten and taggert stumbling onto the leverage crew’s cons and directly profiting off of them is iconic. they have no idea. too pure for this world

- - - - -

Sophie: Hey, thanks Parker.

Parker: Whatever.

Sophie: No. It was an excellent performance.

Parker: Yeah, I think I can act okay when I'm yelling at people and bossing them around.

Sophie: Well, it's a good start.

proud mom!sophie + grifting parker

Nate: Listen, we have to make sure we get the cash to the Delgado family. Ow!

Eliot (tending Nate’s wound): Oh! Settle down. You act like you've never been shot before.

Nate (glances at Sophie): So, uh, pizza boxes, huh?

Hardison: Yeah, I know, I know, You could have done better.

Nate: No, no, no. No I couldn't have.

eliot casually stitching up nate’s wound bc no hospitals but also can we talk about how much nate has to trust eliot to literally operate on him

+

nate giving praise to hardison ??? rare af I don’t know her

[cosmojaem]

Jack of all Trades [l.mk]

Summary: After saving an unknown and injured man from dying. All of a sudden, you’re under the protection of one of Seoul’s notorious mafia.

Genre: mafia!au, strangers-to-lovers!au, angst, fluff

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, smoking, language, implied sexual content 

Pairing: Mark Lee x f!reader

Word count: 7.4k

You have never been more relieved to go home after a long, gruelling day at your job. You’ve worked for a cafe for a while as a part time job, then became a full time thing after you’ve graduated to earn a little more cash to support yourself. After all, earning money is not easy. 

During one of your breaks, you instantly remembered that the results for the Nursing Licensure exams are bound to be released today. Without missing a beat, you immediately pulled out your phone, a notification popped up the moment you typed in your passcode.

LOCAL MAFIA WRECKS HAVOC, POLICE ADVICE CIVILIANS TO STAY INSIDE:

Kim Sohye | May 4, 2020 12:29 

You cleared the notification after and decided to read the article later. Crime is pretty high nowadays but you can confidently say that you live in a safe neighborhood because you've been walking home alone despite these happenings. 

Refreshing the site for the result, your fingers typing your exam number rapidly. How you wanted to cry at that very moment. Luckily, you can still do a retake, but you have to wait for 45 days for the next exam which gives you more time to prepare.

As you neared your apartment, you fished out your keys from your pocket. As soon as you approached the door, you got startled by a body of a man lying in front. The man wheezed, forcing his body to stand up. Your instincts were yelling at you, telling you that this might be a red flag and he’s going to murder you.

 But when you saw his badly injured body, you knew you had to help him.

“S-sir, I don’t think you should stand up. You’re badly injured.” You said, running towards his body and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Leave me alone.” He commanded whilst removing your hand from his shoulder then let out a hiss.

“Don’t!” He replied immediately, shooting what seems to be like a sharp look but his pained expression betrayed him. “Just don’t take me to the hospital.”

You were confused,  but eventually agreed to his odd request, “Alright, at least let me patch you up. Can you stand by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine,” he waved you off, attempting to stand up with the little strength that he had but eventually hissed at the pain from his knee. Even with his groaning and hissing, he refused to tell you he needed help.

Rolling your eyes at his stubbornness, you helped him up while opening the door to your apartment then walked inside and laid him on your couch. You opened the lamp near your couch to see his injuries.

“I’ll be right back, don’t even think about getting up.” You told him sternly before turning your back to fetch your supplies.

You returned with all the things you need, setting them down on the floor and kneeling down after. Attempting to take his shirt off to have a better look at his injuries was more difficult than you thought as he was flinching when you touched his arms.

“How much do you like this shirt?” You asked, grabbing the scissor from your supplies in hopes of making things easy for the both of you by cutting his shirt. A pained hiss draws from his lips, “Not that much”

After doing what must be done, you grimaced once you had a better look at the bruises, cuts and blood that littered his body and took a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic to clean his wounds. After almost 30 minutes of cleaning and dressing his wounds, you also stitched the deep cut he had by his abdomen. 

When you finished up, you cleaned up all the blood soaked cotton pad and the things you used.

He whispered, “Thank you.”

“No problem, I never got your name. Can’t keep calling you ‘hey’ and ‘sir’ all time, can we? Mine’s (y/n).” You earned a low chuckles from your response. He seems fairly amused, “It’s Mark.”

“Well Mark, you’ve sustained a lot of injuries that needs healing so I suggest you stay here for the meantime since I’ll need to remove that stitch that I made.”

“What?!” He exclaimed loudly. You swear, your neighbors will be complaining the next morning by how loud he shouted. “Fuck, I can’t do that! I have to go, thanks for patching me up.”

Mark attempted to stand up from his state, only for him to let a pained groan which makes your statement correct. You shake your head at his stubbornness, “I told you. Now, stop being a stubborn ass and sit down or you’ll open up your stitches.”

Eventually, giving up all his attempts of moving, he decided to just lay down there. You turned back from him to return your things and heat some dinner because you were starving from all the work you did. As you returned your things and went to the kitchen, you heard a faint voice, specifically Mark’s voice talking through the phone in a hushed tone. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop at their conversation but all you heard was ‘base’, ‘Hyuck’ and another guy’s name you forgot. 

Once you heard him end the call, you immediately shuffled to the fridge as if nothing happened.

“Uh (y/n)?” He called from the living room. “Can I have a glass of water?”

“S-sure, just a sec!” You stuttered as you hurriedly grabbed the leftovers and the pitcher of water. You poured him water then went back to the living room with two plates in your arm.

“Here.” You placed his glass of water then set down the plates before running back to the kitchen to get the leftovers. “I’ll be right back.”

Mark reached for his glass before gulping down its contents, he surveyed your apartment. It was normal, a few frames here and there along with furniture and some decorations. Squinting his eyes, trying to take a closer look to the diploma hanging on your wall.

‘(l/n) (y/n), Bachelor Science in Nursing’

That explained a lot with the amount of medical supplies that you have. Normal civilians don’t have stitches for wounds, right? He fumbled in his pocket for his phone then sent a text to Renjun. Hearing light padding of footsteps, he put his phone back in his pocket then watched you place the food in front of you two.

“Sorry, it’s nothing much,” you said sheepishly then looked up to him. “Go ahead and eat.”

Placing his portion of the food on his plate then added rice, handing him his utensil also. After giving his share, you went ahead to get your shared portion and both of you ate in complete silence. Hearing only the sounds of clanks from the utensils and plate, Mark decided to break the ice with a cough.

“So...” he trailed, which earned him a quiet hum from you. “You’re a nurse, huh?”

He immediately noticed that you looked at him hesitantly before opening your mouth to speak, “Not really. I failed the licensure exam so technically, I’m not a ‘nurse’ yet.”

“Technically, you are one. Just not one in practice.” You flashed a small smile at him before going back to finish your meal.

“So what do you do for a living, Mark?” You asked then you saw him visibly flinched at your question. “Are your bruises hurting again?”

Uneasiness crossed his face which was weird since you only asked what he does for a job but you shrugged it off instead. You were a stranger to him after all.

“Um yeah, they kinda are.” He admitted which made you stand up to get an ice pack then let out a sigh of relief that he was able to avoid the question.

You went back with an ice pack in hand, giving it to him so he can ice his bruises. Mark mumbled out a small ‘thank you’ before applying the ice on his bruises, hissing at the cold temperature. Picking up the plates then head back to the kitchen to wash and clean up. Once you finished, you dried your hands and got a fresh batch of extra bedsheets and pillows and set it beside the couch.

“You will sleep on the bed since it’s much more comfortable there than here.” You said to Mark as you set up the books you’ll be reading.

“How about you?” Mark asked

“I’ll sleep on the couch, don’t worry about me! You take the bed.” Convincing him which earned a sigh from him, you helped him up to your room then gently had him sit up to your bed.

“I’ll leave the door open so holler if you need anything, Mark.”

“Thank you for this, you didn’t have to but thanks. I’ll pay you back sometime.” Mark said before tucking himself in.

You turned off the lights then went back to the living room to do your usual reading before going back to bed. It was around 3 am when you were awakened by a sound of screaming, immediately getting up and going inside the room to find Mark panting and sweating. 

“What happened?”

“Did I — I'm sorry, did I wake you up, (y/n)? Sorry about that, you can go back to sleep.” Mark said as you were about to turn your back, he let out a small whimper. Hesitation floods his eyes, “A-actually, can you stay?”

You were taken aback by his sudden request as he only ever showed that he was a tough and stubborn person altogether from your interactions from before. You contemplated for a bit then answered, “Sure, I’ll just grab the sheets and put my makeshift bedding here.”

You returned to the living room to get the bedsheets and pillow, setting them down on the floor beside the bed then tucked yourself in, drifting to deep sleep.

Mark woke up from the light blaring from the side of the curtain. He stretched his arms then felt that he was holding something, only to see your blanket in his hands. He looked down on the floor but you weren’t there. Gripping on the sides of your bed to support himself, pain jolting across his body then slowly got up to sit. You entered the room a few moments later, clad in your underwear.

Feeling someone was burning holes in your skin, you looked up to see Mark staring at you in shock before looking away quickly. Immediately realizing the situation, you hurriedly went to grab your clothes and ran out of the room without.

That was something. He thought, shaking his head to cool his warm cheek.

It took you a while to forget the incident that happened earlier, you cursed at yourself for forgetting that you’re not alone. Living alone has its perks and walking around in your underwear without anyone seeing is one of them but you can’t do that anymore since you have company now. You left earlier, telling him you had to go to work now and will be back in the evening.

“So you’re telling me, you’re stuck in there for days?” Hyuck said from the other line, trying his best not to laugh at Mark but failed miserably. The latter sighed, “I just said that, Hyuck. How’s everything there?”

“Chaotic as usual, here in the base. I had to stop Renjun from choking Jisung earlier. Report came in, there’s someone lurking in one of our territories, will need some taking care of though.”

“I’ll be out of here in a few days, just need to have this stitch removed. For the meantime, just continue reporting as usual to me and the hyungs. Also, tell Renjun to send me his findings.” Mark instructed the younger male, earning a hum on the other end before ending the call.

His phone vibrated, opening it to see the background check on you that he asked Renjun to send him a few days ago. Shaking his head when he saw the message before the attachment.

‘Interesting candidate for a girlfriend, hyung.’

You just finished an order, calling out your customer’s name to retrieve their order then went back to the register when you heard the bell chime.

“Welcome, what would-  Mark? What the hell are you doing here?” You whispered harshly at him as he let out a sly smile at your direction. 

“I’m hungry, (y/n). There’s no food at home so I decided to grab a meal, didn’t know you worked here.” He answered nonchalantly.

You argued with clenched fists against the counter, “You’re not supposed to be walking around, you ass! I told you that!”

“Please, I’m a grown adult. I can tolerate pain, dear.”

Your manager asked while giving you a sharp look, “Is there something wrong here, sir?”

“Nothing at all. Just having a chat with (y/n), that’s all.”

You tried not to roll your eyes but you weren’t up for a lecture about customer service from your manager so with a strained smile, you took Mark’s order while attempting to ignore the burning eyes from your manager.

The following days, whenever he had the chance to go out, he sometimes drops by the cafe to eat and then stays until your shift ends, despite your violent protests. Another reason is to meet up with one of the members, mostly Hyuck for reports on what’s happening. Today was no exception. 

“Hyung.” Mark turned at the sound of the voice to see a familiar figure wearing a face mask, hiding the lower part of his face. 

He pulled his cap lower and approached the figure who was seated not far from his line of sight. 

“What did you get, Hyuck?” He asked as he sat in front of him. 

“There’s disturbance in the shipment of our cartels, we’re still looking into it but Jisung says someone is doing it on purpose. Also, I found this too.” Hyuck handed him a thick folder with twine tied around it. “You might want to take a look at it while you’re at it.” 

Untying the tightly knotted twine around the folder, he opened the folder carefully with his eyes scanning across the contents inside. His fists visibly tightened at the folder he’s holding. 

“This bastard- I killed him off a long time ago!” 

Hyuck looked at him grimly, “That’s what we thought too. Apparently, from the information that I’ve garnered… You did kill his brother, Hyun, the former boss but he had a brother that we didn’t know of until now. He’s gathered men and out for blood, hyung.” 

“He’s after me.” Mark looked at him in realization. “What else?” 

A moment of silence engulfed between them before Hyuck gives him another file out of nowhere then throwing it in front of him. 

“We also found out about his name and whereabouts; his name is Lee Seung and he’s last seen along the ports of Busan last week.” The younger male said while pointing on the picture of a man dressed in black.

His face hardened at the new information. “I need to know who he is working with and all his activities. Call everyone, we’ll be having a meeting now.” Mark commanded while he pulled out his phone.

He stood up from his seat, creating a creaking sound while he picked up the folders and placed them in his arms. After a few rings, the other line answered. 

“Hyung, it’s me. We have a problem.” 

Hyuck stood up from his seat and followed suit while sending everyone an urgent text.

You unlocked the door to your apartment, expecting to see Mark lazing on the couch but strangely, he wasn’t in the living room.

He must be sleeping. You thought as you dropped your things on the ground and went to your room to check on him, only to find an empty room. 

“Mark?” You called before you closed the door and went to the kitchen.

No answer. 

You went to the bathroom and knocked on the door, “Mark?”

Again, no answer.

You called his name numerous times but there was no answer to your calls. The house was empty, but you remembered leaving with Mark still inside. 

Did he go somewhere? But where? He’s still injured. Numerous thoughts started to run inside your head which eventually led you to think of the worst possibilities that could happen to him. Now, you regret not asking for his contact number.

Hours passed by, it was already pitch black outside. You’ve drummed your fingers against the table as you looked at the clock across you. Mark still hasn’t arrived, you’ve already searched around the neighborhood and asked your neighbors if they saw anyone come out the house but none. 

It’s already 11 pm. Where the hell is he? Your worried thoughts still are not kept at bay. 

Upon hearing the creak of your door, your train of thoughts were interrupted then heard a light padding of footsteps. When you saw Mark, you felt relieved and annoyed at the same time. 

“Where the hell did you go? Do you even know what time it is?” You asked while your voice got louder to every question. 

“Errands.” Mark replied, he tried to make his way to your room. 

“I’m not done with you!” You exclaimed out of annoyance. 

He sighed as he rubbed his temples, “Look, can we just talk about this tomorrow? I’m tired.” 

“Oh so you’re telling me you’re tired? Did you know that I went around looking for you and sat here for hours, worrying about your whereabouts! Maybe the next time I see you, you’re already dead.” 

“Thanks for the concern, (y/n) but no one asked you to do those! Who are you even? You’re not my mother! Hell, you’re only a stranger.” He argued, visibly angered that you won’t leave him alone. 

Your jaw tightened as you shot him a glare. “Atleast I have the decency to tend your injuries and shelter you! What an ungrateful brat.” 

The argument became heated and it slowly became a screaming match, insult after insult being thrown in the mix. No one would back down and lower their pride, your screaming match only ended when your neighbor shouted from their window to shut up. 

“Whatever, don’t talk to me if you’re still going to be an asshole.” You whispered harshly in his direction. 

“Fine!” He slammed the door behind him as you plopped on your couch and curled into a ball, ignoring the cold nip of air against your skin. 

The next day, the two of you gave each other the cold shoulder treatment while occasionally grumbling  incoherent curses and mumbles under your breaths. Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Busan, a man took a long drag from his cigarette from his window sill.

“Boss!” The man turned his head to the direction of the voice. “We found him.”

A devilish smirk crept on his lips, eyes gleamed with nothing but intent. Taking his cigarette close to his lips again before puffing a cloud of smoke. “Is that so? What else do you have for me?”

A folder was thrown across, he flipped into it and picked up a picture pinned into it. 

“Interesting.” He said while examining the picture then turned back to his men. “Get her. I‘d like to settle unfinished business with the Jack of all Trades.” 

A loud yawn escaped your lips as you ran your hands through your hair. You casted a quick look to your room before clicking your tongue.

Tch. As if I’ll apologize. You thought as you laid down on the couch, using your arm as a pillow before falling into deep slumber. 

Mark can’t sleep, he’s been tossing and turning but to no avail, he just couldn’t close his eyes or feel sleepy. He woke up earlier from another recurring nightmare that he has been having recently. 

I’ll go out for a while, maybe it’ll help me. 

He tossed the blanket aside and grabbed his jacket before making his way out of the room. With light footsteps, he quietly prayed that you won’t hear him going out. You stirred in your sleep which caused him to flinch, hearing mumble in your sleep then later turned into snoring. 

What a weird girl you are. He thought as he watched you snore in your sleep. With slow steps, he went to your direction and put his jacket on your shivering body before making his way outside. 

You didn’t remember sleeping with a blanket on but when you woke up, you saw a jacket that was not yours on you. Scrunching your nose as you recognized who it belongs to. Of course, it had to be him. 

Stretching your legs before making your way to the kitchen to get yourself some water. The last thing you wanted was a bread being thrown at your face, the plastic made a crinkling sound when it hit the floor. 

“What the fuck?” You snarled whole picking up the bread on the floor. “What’s your problem?” 

Mark hummed in response before biting into his food, “Well, I don’t know. Maybe if you stop acting like you have a stick up your ass then maybe, I’ll apologize. Also, you were supposed to catch that.” 

“Do you expect me to catch that? Bitch, you must be fucking stupid.” 

He heaved a sigh before ignoring what you said. You pulled a chair just across him while rolling your eyes. 

“I’m sorry. There. Happy now?” You said with a strained smile before he lets out a triumphant smirk. “Men and their stupid ego.” 

“I’ll ignore what you said but I guess, we’re good now.” 

You two continued to eat breakfast, occasionally sending jabs before you continued on with your routine of leaving for work. Fortunately, you were let out early from your shift as your boss was going to celebrate anniversary with his girlfriend so you went home immediately. 

“Can you stay still and stop moving? I’m trying to remove your stitches here.” You barked as you slowly cut the stitches, pulling out the thread slowly until there’s none left. “There, good as new.”

Mark stood up, lifting his shirt and going to the full body mirror to see a scar. From the past few days, his injuries were healed and the aching was gone, thanks to you changing the dressing of his wounds and nursing him back to health. He almost felt like a new person with the newfound strength he regained.

“Thanks (y/n), I feel a lot better now.” Mark smiled which made you return his smile. “I have to go back now.”

“Ah right.” You said, not hiding the disappointment in your tone.

Reality dawning to you, almost feeling like you have been hit by a ton of bricks. He has to go now and you’ll probably won’t see him again. It saddens you because, you’ve warmed up to him in the past few days, silence will be your company again inside this house.

“Do you really have to go?” You looked up to him with hopeful eyes, almost pleading to him.

He sighed, “Sadly, I have to. My family needs me.”

He took a few strides to you then hesitatingly placed his hand on your cheek and looked at you with a soft expression. You eyed him, engraving every feature of his in your mind; his starry eyes, cheekbones, button-like nose and lastly, his lips. You wondered was he always this handsome and felt your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“I’ll miss you, you know.” You mumbled but his ears perked up at what you said, letting out a sad smile on his lips.

“I will too.” Mark said then he leaned close, your noses almost touching. “Can I?”

You gave him a nod before he leaned closer to your face, feeling his breath fanning across your face as you leaned slowly and closed your eyes when you felt his lips touch yours. You placed your hands on his chest, your lips moving against his, slow and careful as if he was going to disappear.

The two of you pulled away, panting then he leaned on your forehead before opening his eyes to look at your flushed face.

He unclasped something from his neck, you felt a cold metal being clasped around your neck after then he looked at it then you. You looked down on your neck to see his silver cross necklace around your neck, gently cradling it in your hand.

“Just something that will remind you of me when you’re missing me.” Mark cheekily said before ruffling your hair.

Rolling your eyes then you hit his arm playfully, “As if, Mark.”

“Can you give me your phone?” He asked as you handed him your phone with visible confusion then typed in his number before handing it back to you. “Here’s my number so if you miss me or you get into trouble, you call this number.”

You both let out a joyous laugh before you two head out to the door, bumping each other’s shoulder. A comfortable silence engulfed you two as you made your way out.

“I guess, I’ll see you later then (y/n)?” He said before giving your forehead a soft peck which received a hit from a flustered (y/n).

“Yeah, see you when I see you.” He turned his back and started to walk away but stopped midway. “I’ll pay you back somehow, just you wait”

He continued to walk til his figure disappeared from your sight, you let out a loud sigh before closing the door behind you. You’re alone again, something you were used to before but not anymore. You clasped the cross on your neck, giving it a soft kiss. Days turned to weeks then months, your life returned to normal— it didn’t feel the same without Mark.

“So, where’s your boyfriend?” Yves pipped from the counter while you wipe the cups clean.

You blushed, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“There’s no denying it, (y/n)~ Your face says it all.” She teased, nudging your shoulder with a knowing smile. “But have to admit, you two look cute together.”

You puffed your cheeks as you finished wiping the cups clean, shrugging off at her comment. Your eyes briefly glanced at the necklace he gave you. Looking at your wrist watch to see that your shift has ended. You went to the back to change out of your work clothes and fetch your stuff. You went out with your bag as Yves was busy typing her apron.

“I’ll be going now, Yves. I’ll leave the rest to you.” You announced as you made your way to the door.

“(Y/n)!” She called which made you stop in your tracks and turned around to look at her. “There’s a lot of criminal activity going on lately, you sure you can walk alone? Do you want me to call someone to accompany you?”

You waved off your hand at her, telling her you’re fine before you bid her goodbye again. She shot you a concerned look before slowly waving back at your direction.

Maybe you were starting to regret not listening to Yves’ warning because once you were walking towards your usual direction to your apartment, you felt heavy footsteps behind you. You didn’t think about it too much until you made a detour from your usual route which confirmed all of your suspicions of being followed. 

With your phone in your hand, you immediately tried to dial the number on your speed dial.

“Hello?” Mark answered on the other end, tears welling up from hearing his voice and also, out of fear. “Who’s this?”

“I-it’s (y/n), I need help.” You whispered through the phone. “Um… I-i think-”

Before you could even speak, your arm was immediately grabbed by someone which made you drop your phone. You tried to resist from his hold but it only got tighter as you did so. With your free arm, you pinched him with all your might on his side as he shrieked in pain, letting you go. You immediately scrambled on the pavement to retrieve your phone but both of your arms were pulled back, you cried for help which only made him let out a sinister grin.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Cry for help, no one will come and save you.” He replied as he tried to stop you from wriggling in his grasp.

You stopped resisting, already too tired as you let out a sob. Tears rolled down your cheek as you silently prayed for someone to help you. The man whistled, his cronies coming out from hiding as one immediately carried you on his shoulder like a sack of rice. You thrashed around, hitting his shoulder in an attempt for him to put you down.

“Stop moving around, little bitch.” The man growled as he tightened his grip on your thigh as you let out a pained scream.

They stopped in front of a van, opening the back and quickly tied your wrists and feet together. Caressing your cheek then when his hand neared your lips, you bit his hand. Only for you to get slapped across the cheek.

“Bitch, that fucking hurts!” He screamed before crouching to get a roll of duct tape then held your cheek on one hand as he stuck it to your mouth, muffling your cries. “That’s right, be quiet.”

He slammed the door in your face, you tried to move your wrists but the rope only tugged on your skin, making it even more painful. You surveyed around to look for a sharp object but to your luck, there was none in sight. You leaned back, crying as you thought about all the horrible things these men can do.

Your ears perked up when you heard someone from the other side talking, there was another voice talking to them, a voice that seemed much younger and familiar.

“Open the goddamn door or else.” The voice threatened then an eerie silence followed.

You heard a gunshot which made you shut your eyes with a squeal. Light met your face when the door was being opened. You squint your eyes, looking up to see Mark, concern written all over his face as he climbs on board in an attempt to free you.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-” Mark puts a hand on your cheek but was interrupted when he was being thrown out of the vehicle, landing on the ground with a thud. 

Your eyes widened at what happened, your screams muffled by the stupid tape on your mouth.

After that, you heard gunshots and shouts from outside. Your heart pumped rapidly, scared of what is going to happen to Mark then next thing you saw is a younger male with sun kissed skin, breathing heavily.

“Hello (y/n), I don’t think we’ve met but let’s save the introductions for later.” The young stranger said with a small smirk. “But for now, I’ll need to get you out of here.”

He went inside of the van, pulling something from his boot then cutting you free from the ropes tied around your wrist and feet.

“This is going to hurt a lot.” He immediately removed the tape around your mouth.

You hissed at the painful sensation then shot him a narrowed look, “Goddamnit, could’ve you been more gentle? That was fucking painful.”

He rolled his eyes at your response, “Seriously? Not even a thank you? How ungrateful.”

“Thanks.”

Your ‘savior’ helped you out of the van, you saw a sea of red against the pavement with a few more men who were panting, sweat dripping down their cheeks. Your eyes met with Mark then he came running to you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“M-mark?”

“Shh.. It’s alright, (y/n). You don’t have to speak.” He coaxed, rubbing the small of your back as you sobbed on his shoulder, relieved that he was here.

“I-i was so scared-”

The last thing you saw was being placed behind Mark’s back in a protective stance. Peering from his shoulder, you saw a visibly older man in a suit with more companions.

“Stay behind me, (y/n).” He instructed sternly.

“If it isn’t the Jack of all Trades, I’ve been hunting you down for years and now. Finally, finally, I have finally found you!” Seung mocked then looked behind Mark. “Oh? What’s that I see behind you?”

The moment Seung mentioned you, Mark and the others immediately pointed their guns at the person talking in front of them without hesitation. He continues, “Let’s not be too hasty, gentlemen.”

Mark immediately turned to the younger man on his left who was standing beside you. They both nodded at each other, almost like a silent agreement between them, and the last thing you heard were someone pulling the trigger of a gun.

Everything was happening too fast, the young male broke into a sprint, pulling your arm as you also sprinted with him as he occasionally turned behind him to shoot.

“Mark!” You shrieked as you two continued sprinting away from the scene.

“Don’t just stand there, you idiots! Get them!” Heavy footsteps followed you two which made you two sprint faster.

Adrenaline rushing through your veins, your breath was ragged while you forced your legs to catch up with the younger boy.

“Just keep running and don’t look back, I’ll cover for you.” The younger male continued, looking behind you.

Haechan shoots with shaky hands as he tries his best not to loosen his grip on you even by a slightest. You two took shelter on a dark alley, immediately hiding behind the walls as the men chasing you two ran past you. He let out a sigh of relief then tucked his gun in the waistband of his pants.

“Name’s Haechan. You okay there, (y/n)?” He asked as you continued to wheeze, feeling a bit lightheaded from the sudden sprint.

You breathed out, obviously shaken up. “I-i’m scared, Haechan. But what’s happening, who are those men? Why are they running after us? W-what did he just call Mark? I-i’m so confused.”

He fiddled his fingers then sighed. “Those men are just cronies of a resident mafia. They’re after us, but they mostly want Mark hyung.”

“H-hold up, you’re what? How about those people from earlier?” You asked while rubbing your temples then you looked up to him in surprise. “Mark is your what again?”

Haechan’s face contorted into an amused look then he answered. “Take it easy with the questions, but yes, we’re a mafia group and Mark hyung is our leader.” 

You two sat on the floor, you hugged your knees as he leans against the wall while occasionally looking out. 

“But why was Mark called… what was that again?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, trying to take in all the information. 

“Jack of all trades. Oh, about that… From what I know, hyung got that alias from his enemies. I don’t blame them, his smartass is too sly and skilled.” He explained. “Don’t tell him I said that or I’ll never hear the end of it.” 

“Many admire him but many also fear him. Killing him would mean power and glory as he has a huge bounty on his head.” 

Your eyes widened in realization, putting everything together. The injuries, the frequent outing, the calls and the way he flinched when you asked him about what he does for a living. 

You croaked out a reply, “S-skilled in what? 

Haechan hesitated before whispering his answer which startled you more than ever. “Gambling but I think you know what he’s capable of.” 

You didn’t know how to feel; you felt scared, anxious and betrayed but you remembered his ‘rough around the edge’ thoughtfulness, stubbornness of not having you change the dressings, the kiss you shared before parting and the necklace. 

“The necklace.” You mumbled as your hands clutch on the silver necklace on your neck, the cross sitting just above your chest, glinting all its glory. 

Hearing a clicking sound, you crouched behind him while he cocked his gun in his hand while eyeing the wall warily. You heard footsteps then stopped but then the footsteps turned into rhythmic stomping before Haechan came out from the wall, gesturing you to stay put. 

Ten minutes have passed since he asked you to stay put and keep quiet. You crawled from your hiding place, “Haechan?” 

Peeking from behind the wall, you saw him being tackled on the ground who is obviously in pain then there’s a tackled Mark who kept a straight face but his eyes showed how furious he is. 

“Let him go.” Mark grunted while the man cackled at him while motioning his cronie to inflict pain on the boy on the ground. 

You covered your mouth in shock, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks then a small sound slipped past your lips. Pressing a hand on your mouth, in an attempt to prevent any sound from slipping again. Unfortunately, it seemed like someone heard your slip and now, you’re being thrown across the ground. 

“Look who we have here.” The man’s hand went to your chin, forcing you up and lifting your face for everyone to see as you struggled from his grip. “If it isn’t your precious brat.”

His eyes widened when he looked at you and whispered, “N-no.” 

 “Such a waste that I’d have to put a bullet in her pretty head.” 

Feeling a cold metal press against the side of your forehead, hearing a click which made you gulp from your position. 

“What’s all the crack about the Jack of all Trades? I thought you’re more powerful than that, huh? You’re making me laugh, kid! That’s all you got?” He said before letting out an ugly cackle. 

Mark looked at you before his lips quirked into a sly smile then returned his gaze to Seung with the same smile, irking the said man as he pressed the gun closer to your temple. 

“I’d watch what you’re saying if I were you, Lee Seung.” He said and soon, bullets rained down and Seung’s cronies fell down on the ground immediately. 

Seung looked startled when he realized what’s happening. Without missing a beat, he snapped out of his gaze and forced you to stand up with a gun behind your head.  “Up on your feet!”  

Mark and Haechan pushed the dead bodies, grunting at their weight before chasing after Seung and the captive. Mark pulled out his gun, aiming it at Seung’s direction before pulling the trigger. An ear piercing scream followed, Seung’s pace slowed down as he limped at the hit his leg took. He roughly grabbed the back of your shirt, pushing you forward in a rough manner. 

All of you stopped running when you reached a river, everyone was panting heavily while you trembled as felt the gun pressed against your temple while Seung toyed with the trigger which made you even more terrified and anxious at the sounds. 

“Come any closer or I won’t hesitate to shoot!” He threatened as he pulled you closer, closing your eyes at what will happen. 

Mark raised his gun. “This is between you and I, Seung. Leave her out of this!” 

“Or what?” 

“Or else, you won’t like what I’ll do next.”

The tension was heavy between the men, it was silent that you can hear their breathing and the sound of the river nearby. The last thing you heard was someone yelling your name and a menacing laughter as you struggled against the river’s current. Your breath gets ragged as you grapple around to get more air, slowly losing your consciousness.  

Meanwhile, Mark the man while Haechan immediately jumped into the river before it was too late. He was livid, not sparing mercy to his opponent while he landed blow after blow until he was sitting on top of him, beating him up senselessly. 

“I won’t rest until I avenge my brother. I won’t lose!” Seung said weakly at him, reaching out for his neck in an attempt to strangle him. 

He tried to pry it off but felt the grip getting tighter while his vision started to get hazy, his left hand snaked under his jacket before letting out a crooked smile. 

His fingers held onto four ace cards, mockingly showing it to his opponent whose face showed visible confusion and horror. “I-i won.” 

With a swift flick of a finger, the knife hidden underneath the cards came into a view. Without wavering, he made a deep incision on the left part of his neck. Blood started to seep from Seung’s mouth and neck, his hands falling unto his sides lifelessly. Mark stood up, satisfied with what he did and started to walk away from the body. 

He’d have to make sure to call Jisung to dispose of this later. 

Mark ran up to see Haechan kneeling beside your body. “How’s (y/n)?” 

“As you can see, she still hasn’t woken up.” He replied as he gently placed his palm on your forehead, still cold to the touch. 

A few moments later, you started coughing up all the water you’ve had before you slowly opened your eyes to look at Mark and Haechan looking back at you in relief. 

“D-did I die?” You wheezed which earned a low chuckled from both of them. 

“I like her already, can we keep her?” He shot Haechan a look before the said man raised his arm in surrender. 

Placing his hand on your cheek and leaning his forehead against yours, ignoring your drench and cold form while he looks at you directly in the eye. 

He mumbles as you feel his lips ghosting yours as he speaks. I’m glad you’re alive and safe.” 

“I should be the one saying that to you. You’ve saved my life now, Mark.” You responded which elicited a small smile on both of your lips. 

Your hands made their way on his jaw before you pulled him into a slow, gentle kiss. Almost forgetting what happened earlier due to the amount of overwhelming feeling of longing and affection you both felt for each other. 

“Hyung, I’d appreciate it if you turned your mic off. You do know I can still hear you.” Renjun spoke from the earpiece.

The both of you pulled away, Mark flushed in embarrassment before he argued and jabbed incoherent insults to the person he’s talking to before helping you up on your feet. 

Eight people crammed inside the van, it took a while for all of you to get inside as the others had important errands to do before hopping in. They were all interesting and rowdy individuals, even Mark got tired of telling them off. Your eyelids started to droop from fatigue. 

“You should sleep, (y/n). It’s a bit of a drive to get back to the base.” Mark said as he adjusted his position so you can lean on his shoulder. “You can lay down on my shoulder.” 

You moved a bit before placing your head on the slope of his shoulder. “Better?” He asked which earned a small nod from you. 

“I’m good now. Thanks.” You muttered before drifting to sleep as you felt him rub circles on the back of your palm. 

Mark tapped your shoulder when you all reached the base, everyone started to pile out while you two waited for your turn as you two sat by the back of the van. Courtesy of Chenle calling shotgun on the front seat where Mark usually sits during their missions. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?” He asked as he helped you get out of the van, closing the door behind. 

“With everything that just happened, I might get recurring nightmares.” You admitted, stretching your sore limbs. 

Mark lets out a sigh and takes your hand into his, “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess.” 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.” You intertwined your hands with his before giving him a reassuring smile.He looks you in concern before he looks from afar before you two went inside the base, hand in hand. 

It was a comforting, the feeling of his palm that radiated warmth despite knowing what it had done to unfortunate enemies that crossed his path and his fingers that slipped into yours. His shoulder occasionally bumps into yours, making you laugh. Maybe, you’ll get accustomed to this, being with him and entering his world. 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Searching for Answers: Alex and Jake the Shelter Guy

CW: Pet whump as a setting (Box Boy universe). References to dehumanization, brief vague reference to torture and noncon. If you’ve ever read @deluxewhump‘s excellent work (if you haven’t, you should be), you’ll see a very familiar face.

Jake takes naps between classes.

He spends three days a week at school taking 18 credit hours, in class from 8 in the morning until 10:30 at night. Then he heads to Nat’s place and does the overnight-house-worker thing, giving the rescues a sense of security knowing somebody familiar and safe is there if they have bad dreams or need help. The other four days a week he works with Natalie Yoder and Dr. Masood, learning about the rescues and how to help them.

It sounds exciting, being a college student secretly part of an underground liberation movement, but mostly it’s just exhausting.

He’s going to graduate with a degree in public health and a double-minor in communications and philosophy. It looks stupid, on the surface, he guesses, but he’s got a plan. Advocacy for runaways and human pets, working towards getting this country to a place to consider a full legal liberation and adjustment period for every person trapped in the system. 

Public health, so he can stand as an advocate with the degree to back up his hands-on experience and knowledge. Communications, to make him a better advocate by giving him the tools to understand how to utilize the media to change the way human pets are seen. Philosophy, to give him the skills to dig deeply into the thought processes around human pet ownership. 

The movement’s got more than 75 years of entrenched prejudice to undo. One day, he’s one hundred percent certain, pet ownership is going to be abolished as the fucking crime against humanity it really is. 

Jake wants to be a part of the group that finally makes it happen. 

The only problem is that he’s set himself an impossible schedule, and he’s so tired some days it’s all he can do to stay awake through his classes. He sleeps like four hours a night, and one day that’s going to catch up to him in a big way, but for now… he naps on benches and in courtyards, naps in the teacher’s lounge in the English department and behind a bunch of bookshelves in the philosophy hallway. 

It’s nice, except for when some asshole decides not to let him.

“Hey, uh, you’re… Jake Stanton, right?”

Jake groans, rubbing at his temple as he sits back and rests his back against the crumbling old brick wall of the oldest building on campus. He squints up at the fucking frat boy looking down at him. Not that Jake’s ever seen him before, but it’s easy to tell one of the fratbrats when you see them. 

He’s got the look - super clean-cut, blond hair and blue eyes, he’s even got a square jaw. Maybe not as musclebound as some of the other ones, but he’s still unmistakable. He looks kind of familiar, too, but that’s kind of the problem with frat guys. They mostly dress enough alike that it’s kind of hard to tell if he’s had a class with them or just had a class with one of their brothers. 

The guy looks nervous as hell. 

“Yeah, I’m Jake. Do I know you?”

“Uh, probably… prob’ly you do.” The frat guy shifts uneasily, one hand gripped tightly onto the backpack slung over one shoulder, a couple of textbooks under the other arm. “I’m Alex. We’re both minoring in, uh, philosophy, I think?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jake pushes back a yawn, just barely covering it with one hand. “Yeah, okay. I thought you looked familiar. What can I do for you? I’m sorry in advance if you wanted help with the essay thing, I haven’t even started on it, I’ve been busy with work.”

Nat’s newest charge had nonstop fucking nightmares from training, night after night. Jake had barely gotten a wink of sleep. 

“No, that’s okay, I, uh-... actually I’d be good to help you, if you need it. I finished mine, ran it by our-... my buddy last night.” Jake blinks, squinting again. He could swear Alex the Frat Guy is blushing. “Um. I just. I heard from, from some people that you’re… that you… know stuff.” Alex’s voice drops, into something just above a whisper. “About, uh, you know. Pets. Box Boys.”

 Jake stiffens, as his chest goes a little cold. “Who told you that?” He doesn’t talk about it much - being openly part of the pet lib movement isn’t exactly dangerous, but nobody talks pet liberation in polite company. 

 “Um. This girl I know. Meghan Jensen-” Alex pronounces the h, just a little, Meg-hen, and Jake can’t quite keep himself from smiling. “-she’s in a sorority… we kind of partner with sometimes… she said she heard from her twin sister Hannah who’s into some, like, punk underground lib shit… that you were, um. Someone I could talk to. For advice.”

Jake nods, slowly, giving himself time to process the words. He knows who Hannah Jensen is, he’s seen her at some of the group meetings and protests. He knows she has a twin who’s in a sorority, too. If this Alex guy is fucking with him, he did way too much research first. “Yeah, okay. Not out here, though, all right?”

Alex nods, expression going solemn and uncertain. “We can’t, like… get arrested just for talking about it, can we? I definitely can’t have that on my, like, record.”

Jake wants to laugh, but then he sees that the guy’s serious. Probably all he’s seen is the company propaganda shit about theft of property and consent and everything. It’s fake enough that no millenial or Gen Z person’s going to fall for it, but it’s still basically everywhere you look. Hard to make too many inroads against everyone’s assumptions about the system without someone who knows how to work it.

Hence - public health, communications, and philosophy.

“No, we won’t get arrested for talking. But someone might follow me home.” Jake makes his voice light and joking, even though it’s a genuine concern, and pushes himself to his feet. He’s actually a little taller than Alex, and more muscled-up, too.

“I just… need help. With, um. Someone I know.”

Jake blinks, thrown off-guard. “Someone specific?” Then it clicks, and he groans. “Shit. You’re with the frat, aren’t you? I’ve heard of you guys, you’ve got the guy going into the NFL. You’re one of those assholes that bought one-”

“Look, it seemed like… I didn’t really think about it, okay?” Alex’s face is even redder now, but he looks half-miserable with it, embarrassed and ashamed. Like Jake had caught him dealing drugs at an elementary school playground. “He’s… I just wanted to ask you some stuff about things I’ve noticed about him… and about Box Boys, and…”

“Why don’t you call the fucking company, Alex? They come with a number on their fucking brochure.” Jake’s voice goes dark, and he sees Alex bristle defensively. “Right there on the back, when you buy a human being. Customer service for your personal slave.”

“Hey, back the fuck off.” Alex’s eyes narrow, and he moves closer into Jake’s space, glaring at him. “Look, we went in on the whole thing together, and now I’ve gotten to know him, and I just-... I’m, um. I’m worried, and… I needed someone to talk to.”

Jake wants to push back again, to push harder. To ask Alex what the fuck he was thinking, being part of a group buying a human being. If he thought it’d be funny, or if he just cracked under peer pressure. But it won’t help, and instead he takes a deep breath, remembering Nat’s words. One step, one conversation, one person at a time. We can change the story, but you have to change minds and hearts, first. “... yeah, okay. Okay, I get it. Yeah. I can talk to you. I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, I get it,” Alex says, quickly, backing up again. “I get it. I probably look like a total rat-bastard to you.”

“No… not really. But if you’re, uh. Look, there’s a place I meet people sometimes to talk about this. I’ll buy you a drink and we’ll talk there.”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds cool.”

“What’s your major, anyway?” Jake asks, sliding his own backpack on, eyes scanning over the campus. He’s met so many rescues who should be walking around college like this, safe and easy and free. He’s met a few that he’s pretty sure were walking around places like this, before WRU picked them up. “I feel like you were really good at arguing in Intro to Philosophy. So… something public-speaking-focused, right?”

“Uh, Poli Sci,” Alex says, falling into step beside him as Jake makes his way down the dirt path made by tens of thousands of students over the course of decades simply choosing to ignore the paved sidewalks and make their own way.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“What? Why do you say that?”

“You look like a baby politician, and you’re good at arguing. What else would you be here for?” Alex snorts, hunching his shoulders a little defensively as his sneaker scrapes along the ground, and Jake sighs. “Sorry, man. I didn’t really mean that as an insult. I’m just tired as shit and everything’s been coming out the wrong way today. It really has not been my day.”

There’s a headache pounding behind his eyes, the fuzzy-headed exhaustion that could easily take him over. But he tells himself the rescues - and the Box Boys and Box Babes still in captivity - have it so much worse than he does.

That gives him a little more energy to keep walking.

“No, it’s okay. If I want to go into politics I should probably look like a politician, right?” Alex flashes him a hint of a smile, sidelong, and Jake relaxes. Okay, Alex the Frat Guy’s not as bad as he thought he’d be.

They end up chatting pretty amicably about professors and TAs they liked and hated in their shared philosophy courses, homework, and Alex laughs at Jake’s surprise, finding out that only a few of his frat brothers are even in sports as part of their long-term goal. Alex mentions a ‘Zee’ a few times, and eventually Jake realizes he’s talking about the Box Boy his frat bought, not just another frat brother or friend. 

He doesn’t talk about the Box Boy like he’s just an object to be owned. Jake wonders why he went in on the purchase at all. Probably, he decides, peer pressure. Everyone does stupid shit because of peer pressure. Jake smoked for a while in high school. His friend Krista got the worst haircut Jake had ever seen. Maybe Alex’s stupid peer pressure thing was buying a fucking person. 

Nope. He has to stop being so bitter about it. It’s just part of being in a subculture - and like it or not, being against pet ownership is way more of a minority, right now, than being either neutral or in favor of it.

If he carries all this anger back to the shelter tonight, the rescues will pick up on the tension, on his unhappiness. They’re all experts at reading the slightest negative change in mood, and while not all of them panic, they will all start trying to fix it in whatever way they understand. Jake definitely doesn’t have the energy to deal with a handful of recovering pets trying to clean or cook or screw their way out of danger. 

He walks Alex to the Student Center while the conversation is still safely focused on surface level stuff, grabbing himself and and Alex both iced coffees before he heads downstairs. Alex seems like he knows every third person they see. Jake can’t decide if that’s some weird politician-to-be gladhanding, or if he genuinely just has a really good memory for faces and names. 

He has to stop being so bitter about politics, too - not everyone’s going to be Senator Carlotta Grant, after all. Maybe Alex will be one of the good guys, for real. 

Maybe Jake can help nudge him that direction, if he wasn’t already headed that way.

The basement has a bunch of space for students, too, but Jake can count on his hands the amount of people he’s ever seen here over the course of his entire collegiate career. There’s a small booth where a bored girl with long black hair is ostensibly selling jewelry and pottery, a small open area with a piano that has a thin film of dust, and Jake leads an increasingly nervous Alex all the way to the back, where a series of hard wooden booths are built into the walls around an open hardwood floor. It’s dim down here, and dark as hell. Jake likes to call it the Speakeasy - to himself, at least. That’s what it reminds him of, speakeasies in Hollywood movies.

“I’ve never been down here,” Alex says, slightly hushed. “I didn’t even know this existed.”

“Yeah, it’s like… everyone just collectively decides to ignore this part of the Student Center. Works for me. We have meetings down here sometimes. Plus, the fact that nobody knows about it means nobody is gonna give us a hard time about whatever you’re going to tell me.” 

Jake slides into a booth and Alex sits across from him, the both of them slipping their backpacks off. It feels sort of hilariously surreal, like they’re in a movie about spies or the only two people who know the truth at the beginning of a zombie movie. 

Alex pulls out his cell phone, nervously fiddling with it and staring down. The silence draws slowly out until Jake finally leans over. Alex’s blue eyes jump up to his. “Look. The answer is yes, I, uh. I do some stuff with pet lib groups now and then. If you’re looking for info on, like, how to donate and shit, I’ve got some papers in my backpack with stuff you can do to help the movement… we could really use some clothing donations and, like, canned food and stuff right now-”

“No, um. I mean, yeah, I’ll… I’ll ask around and see if any of the guys have clothes they don’t need, but… that’s not… what I want to ask about.”

Jake frowns, then asks, softly, “Are you looking to help him get out of the system? Your Box Boy, at your frat house?”

There’s a pause. Alex goes wide-eyed, like he hadn’t even thought of it. “No! I mean. Not, um. I don’t think he’d want to… I just wanted to… to ask. Some stuff. About, um. How to help him act more like, uh, like a person. Like, if I take him out or whatever.”

Jake’s headache is getting worse.

“You want me to give you advice on how to train him?” He can’t stop the jagged edge that creeps into his voice. “So that you can, what-... hide what he is and take your pet around without having to answer any questions about it and face up to what you did-”

“Holy shit, dude,” Alex says, sitting back and setting his phone slowly down. “You don’t need to get so mad about it. I didn’t mean-”

“Well, what did you mean? Look, I do a lot of work with the kinds of people who get bought. I’m sorry if that freaks you out or something, but… you should see the damage this whole system does, you know?”

Alex is quiet, for a long time, just staring at him. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking - he’s already got that way of looking serious and thoughtful without actually giving anything away. Then, quietly, he says, “Zee has nightmares.”

“You call him Zee?”

“Yeah, uh. I mean, technically Z2, it’s part of his, um, official-”

“Yeah, I get it.” Jake sips his iced coffee and watches Alex hurriedly pick his up and sip, too, like he’d forgotten it was there. To Jake at least it seemed like a lifeline, a way to hold back the urge he has to grab this guy by the shoulders and shake him. “They make them answer to numbers. Dehumanization is, like, the first step of what they do.”

Alex’s face twists, like he’s tasted something awful, and he looks away. “Right. So, anyway, we all kind of decided on Z2. But… I like Zee better. It seems like it’s short for, for a real name, maybe. Like I could call him that in public and nobody, nobody would know-”

“That you own him?”

“No.” Alex sits up straighter. “No, not exactly. I figure it’d make it easier for him. I don’t-... I don’t really care what people think about me-”

“If you’re going into politics, you’re definitely going to care what people think of you.”

“Look, man, let me finish a sentence, okay? Just, like,  single sentence?” Alex pauses, and waits, and Jake finally sits back and sips his drink again and nods, silently. Alex sighs. “Thanks. I just meant that if I call him Zee, people will talk to him like he’s a regular guy. And I think he deserves it, to be able to go out and just, like, talk to people and be normal. That’s all I meant. But, this is… you, um. You just said you work with them, right? With, um. The… ones who get away? Get freed, or whatever?”

“They don’t get freed,” Jake says flatly. “That’s a myth. They run away or they stay kept.”

“... right.” Alex frowns, looking down at his coffee again, rubbing his fingers over the condensation building up along the clear plastic. “You said you work with them? So, um. I just. I want to know how to make things better for Zee, while he lives with us.”

“Belongs to you.”

Alex groans, throwing his hands up in the air. “Fine! What is it with you, dude? I’m trying to make Zee’s life better. I can’t just, like, make him not a Box Boy. One of my brothers technically has all his paperwork, we all went in on him together, he belongs to the whole fucking frat. If it was up to me and Dom, we’d free him in a heartbeat, okay? But it’s not up to us. And I can’t figure out how to make things better for him unless I know where to even start.” 

There’s real anguish in his voice, now. Actual, genuine guilt and remorse. Jake closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, calms the anger that he feels buzzing along all his nerves. It’s not Alex’s fault. He’s part of a system just like everybody else. Born into it, raised in it, no need to question or even think it through, until something hits him where he lives. 

Literally, in this case.

A lot of people are paid a lot of money to make sure people like Alex don’t ask questions, don’t try to make anything different or better. A lot of people work very hard to put out marketing materials and buy TV ads and write speeches for the President all about how great and above-board and one hundred percent normal it all is. 

And people like Jake are the nutjobs standing on a streetcorner wearing a sandwich board.

“Yeah,” Jake says. Just something to fill the silence, while he keeps his breathing slow and even, takes another drink. “Look, can I… can I say something?”

“Sure. I haven’t been insulted enough today, have at it.” Alex slumps back, looking almost morose, like a kid tired of being yelled at for listening to his music too loud. 

“I”m not going to insult you. Uh, anymore. I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. It’s… I live it, every single day, so it’s kind of hard to remember not everybody does. I’ll help you out with some advice, but… but I’m really going to want you to set him free for us to help him, you know? Or people like us, anyway. Just… know that any advice I give you’s going to come from that direction, okay?”

Alex swallows, drawing little nonsense symbols on the tabletop with one finger, as he thinks. “... okay. Yeah.”

“Good. So you said he has nightmares?” He pauses long enough for Alex to nod. “Okay. That’s a good starting place. They all have nightmares. Fucking all of them. Got it? And I bet if you wake him up, he doesn’t even know what he was dreaming about, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Or he won’t tell me, anyway. He tried once, but he got a really bad headache and had to take some, like, Advil…”

“Which, I’m going to guess, didn’t do shit to help. It’s not a headache from actual, like, nerves… it’s a conditioning thing.”

“... the fuck is conditioning?”

Jake opens his mouth, closes it again. Then he turns and digs into his backpack, pulling out a worn, wrinkled old bit of printer paper carefully folded into a three-sided brochure. WRU and the companies have the good stuff. Nat just prints this stuff out on her home computer, and Jake and the rescues sit up folding them until they look - mostly - presentable for the public. He slides it across the table, and Alex picks it up, looking it over. There’s an old photo on the front of a woman who died back in the 90’s with two rescues standing in front of her, her hands on their shoulders, everyone smiling. It’s the best picture they have. 

Nobody wants to have their photo printed, not anymore. Not since people started disappearing, sometimes. 

“Read this. It’s got a little bit in it about navigating that stuff. Conditioning is like brainwashing, a little bit. It’s how they teach them to act the way they do. Like… you’ve probably noticed he can’t really say no to any chore you tell him to do, right?”

Alex swallows, hard enough for Jake to notice, and nods. He’s still got the brochure unfolded in his hands, but he looks up slowly, meeting Jake’s eyes. “Yeah. And he never gets mad, either. He just… does whatever we tell him. Even if they, uh, sometimes the others… aren’t super nice to him. And he just… takes it.”

“Right. His nightmares are probably about the reason he just sits there and takes it, Alex. If you push him - if you give him orders he can’t handle, or you tell him to do something that hurts him or he’s terrified of it or, like…” A thought flashes through Jake’s mind, one that’s so dark even he doesn’t think the frat boys would be that kind of evil, and he dismisses it. “... even if you tell him to go jump out a window, or something… he might protest or cry, but if you keep going… he’ll do it. Because, deep down, that’s all he can do anymore. Got that?”

Some of the blood has drained from Alex’s face. “And he has nightmares about, about being… taught? To do whatever we say?”

“Yeah. Look, I’m going to sound fucking crazy, I get it. But… please just trust me. I see rescues - that’s what we call the ones we take care of - every day. They all have nightmares. They all do whatever you tell them to. Some of them do worse than that. I can help you with some exercises, some therapy stuff, that we do to help calm their nightmares down. But I can’t do anything that’ll really, really help, unless you let me talk to him. Or if you get him out of that frat house.”

“I can’t do that. He doesn’t even belong to me, he belongs to all of us.” Alex’s face twists again, but Jake is more focused on the fact that Alex didn’t protest the idea of freeing the boy at all. Only argued that it would be difficult. That Jake could work with. “Technically he belongs to my frat brother, and Cam’s… um.” Alex is silent for a second, and then asks, “What do I do if someone else, like… pushes him in ways he’s not supposed to be? Like… that don’t go along with what he’s, um, what his… category or whatever is?”

“What?” At first, Jake’s confused.

Then he realizes what Alex is actually asking, and feels the anger under his skin all over again. 

Closing his eyes isn’t enough this time. He thinks about the rescues he’s seen come through, all of them used in different, equally horrible ways. All of them absolutely, completely, utterly unable to even begin to refuse it. “Is it just one guy, or are there more?”

He’s surprised to hear his own voice come out soft, and even. He doesn’t even sound angry. Just mildly annoyed.

Underneath that, he’s ready to start throwing punches. This is why he doesn’t talk about this stuff at school - he’s going to miss his classes today, unable to handle it being here, too, when normally he keeps the two halves of his life separate so he can keep himself from burning out too soon. No, he’ll skip class and go straight to the shelter tonight. Get to bed earlier than usual, if the rescues are feeling good. 

“Just one… I think. I mean, I hope just the one. We, uh, we talked about it with him, and I’m sure… I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, it will. Give someone total power over another human life and they’ll go fucknuts destroying it.”

“We’re trying to keep them apart, but… we can’t always be there. Which is why I thought, um, if I could get him to pass for, like, just another person he could maybe just go around with us more and not be in the house when we’re not…” 

“Good start. I’ve got… hold on.” He digs another piece of paper out and lays it out on the table. “This one’s about ways to talk to your rescue about consent. It’s… kind of an awkward conversation and he won’t understand it. But… if you just keep talking, it’ll help him feel better standing up for himself.”

“Why doesn’t he understand cuh-... uh… consent?” Alex’s face was red again. “I mean. He wants… so much attention, and he seems like he’s used to being, like, hugged or kept around people, like he wants it. From Dom and me, at least.”

Jake swallows, trying to decide how much to tell him. How far to take this conversation. He pulls another paper, this one four sheets stapled together front and back, and lays it down on the table, too. “Have you ever been locked in a room without human contact for months on end, except to be hurt? The only good thing they get is dehumanizing shit like that - being petted, or touched against their will. It’s normalized. He doesn’t know he shouldn’t want it, anymore. And he’ll be terrified and upset if you stop.”

Alex looks down at the paper, shaking his head “Do you… do you have a paper for everything?”

“Bet your ass I do. That one’s on training methods. Turn to page two. It’ll answer your question. I have stuff in here to answer all your questions, and I have-... there’s a, uh. A friend of mine… I could bring to talk to you, if you’re interested. A rescue who’s… mostly… better now. He’s our IT guy. He’s been through all the counseling, and he remembers training and all of it. He can tell you what your, uh. What Zee has gone through. Ways to help him break it. But… that’s only if you want. I get that I’m throwing a lot at you. And I get that it probably seems crazy-”

“No, it doesn’t. Really.” Alex leans over, looking at him earnestly, one hand over the papers Jake has set down on the table between them. “Look, before I met Zee, I would maybe have thought… it was all exaggerated, but… but I’ve listened to him when he sleeps. He sounds so… terrified. And he’s so grateful for… everything. Anything nice, literally the smallest nice things… I don’t think you’re crazy, I think… think like, maybe… maybe I need to try and help him get out of our house before I graduate, I just have no idea where to start.”

“I can give you an address,” Jake says, softly.

“Uh… no. I don’t think he’d… want to do that.”

“Not yet. But it’s what a lot of them do, when they’re ready.”

“No, I get that, but I just. Um. I don’t think I’d… want him to be, like, homeless? Just without anybody? That seems really… awful, actually.”

“Does it?” Jake raises an eyebrow. “Does it seem worse than, I don’t know, cleaning frat guy toilets? Or whatever awful shit you’re almost telling me about your frat brother? Does he even have a bed?”

Alex looks back out into the dim basement corner, tapping his fingers on the table. His discomfort is basically a physical weight around him in the air. “No. He, uh. There’s this… closet, or he stays with Dom or me…”

“Yeah. So. Does that seem better than an address where I can guarantee a bed?”

“No… it doesn’t… I guess.” Alex glances down at his coffee, apparently surprised to discover he’s been drinking it the whole time and it’s all gone. He takes the lid off and picks out a piece of ice, crunching it between his teeth. The sound is enormously loud in the quiet, empty space. “I just feel like… we care about Zee. I think I can do better than, um, whatever you’re suggesting. I just… need your help, to do better. He… deserves better.”

“Yeah. He does. They all do.”

Alex takes a deep breath and turns back to him, folding his hands together on the table, looking for all the world like the senator or congressman or whatever he’s planning to maybe one day be. He leans slowly over and looks Jake right in the eyes “I want all your papers from your bag. Just… the whole library. I don’t want to, to send him away. I think he’d… it’d hurt him, so badly. He really likes us, and we… we’re trying. But I want to know how to do better.”

Jake stares right back. He can’t tell if Alex really means it, or not, but he sounds like he means it. Finally, he turns and digs another stack of papers out, maybe a hundred different pages all total. He always keeps some on him, just in case, but nobody ever really asks. He lets the stack fall a couple of inches in front of Alex, watching his eyes widen as he stares.

“There it is,” Jake says. “The whole damn library. All the reading you could ever want on why the pet system is bullshit, what they’re doing to make you think it’s okay, and how to help someone who’s been trapped in it. If you and, uh, your frat brother, or-... or Zee wants to meet with my friend Nine, I can introduce you. Only when you’re ready. I’m on campus Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday basically all day. I can talk to you whenever. My number’s… hold on.” He grabs another piece of paper out and scribbles his number down, hands that over, too. “Call me if you want to talk more, on those three days. The rest of the time I work with the rescues, and I’m not gonna answer my phone unless someone died or you’re my dad.”

Alex nods, and shoves the whole pile of papers into his own backpack, zipping it carefully up. “Thanks. Hey, can I ask you something?”

Jake lets out a sigh. He knows what the question is going to be, too. It’s the same question, every time, and they always save it for the end of the conversation. “Yeah, go for it.”

Alex pauses, then asks, “Is it true you know Vincent Shield?”

Jake huffs a little bitter laughter. They always ask, every single time. 

“Yeah, I do. And he’s a dick.”

[forkanna]

[AO3] [WATTPAD]

WARNING: Continued transphobia.

So I did try to put this up sooner, due to cilffhanger feelings, but didn't quite manage it. Hopefully you all forgive me!

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

Rise couldn't believe the level of disaster her life had reached. And all because she couldn't keep her mouth shut. Because by the time she had finished crying, scraping herself together and sending the shambles that had once been a lovesick fool back into the school, she knew exactly where the leak had occurred. Plugging that would have to be the first step. And then…

Then what would she do? Beg Ai to take her back? She took out the note, stared at it, and almost threw it in the nearest receptacle. But that wouldn't do. No… she had to hang onto hope that there was still time.

"I got this," she whispered to herself as she used the note to wipe her eyes, smearing her makeup. "I'll do my best." Fine but empty sentiment. She had to take things one step at a time.

And step one was…

                                                   ~ o ~

"CHIE!"

The bowl-cut-hair had barely stopped whirling around Chie's head from turning to face Rise when she was hit in the face, full force, with a bookbag. The blow knocked her from her chair in the Junes food court and she went sprawling to the ground.

"WHOA!" Yosuke burst out in sheer alarm. "Hey, wait a minute there, Rise-chan! Where's the fire?!"

"You wanna know who's fired? SHE'S fired, that's who!"

Still struggling to sit up, Chie looked a little silly with a bag-print reddening half of her face. "Wha… whahidme?"

"Rise, what is the meaning of this?" Yukiko gasped in exasperation as she crouched over her girlfriend, trying to help her up. "Are you upset about something?"

It took real, concentrated effort not to snap at Yukiko, as well — especially given the Captain Obvious question she had just asked. But she knew she was only trying to be kind, to look after all of her friends equally. So she bit back the scathing retort and focused on the situation at hand instead.

"I'm upset about a lot of things, every day. But this time it's because somebody doesn't understand what a secret is!"

"Me?!" Chie intuited. "Are you- hey, I'm no snitch! Wait, what secret are we… talking…"

The food court went silent. Which was partly because it was too early for dinner, so they were the only ones there, not talking to each other. Rise idly noticed it seemed like Teddie and Kanji were absent, but she was on a mission; she didn't have time to worry about their whereabouts.

Finally… "Oh."

"So you got it? Huh? You figured out how you just screwed everything up?!"

"Now just wait a whole second, okay?" Chie said in a slightly nervous tone as she began to struggle to her feet. "I didn't say- I mean, like, I just figured it came out! Right? Because it's a secret, and this is a small town, and like, c'mon!"

"Who did you tell?"

"I didn't tell anyb-"

"NO! No, don't give me any of that crap, because we both know you had to have told someone — you already told at least one other person! I didn't tell anybody else! So who was it?"

"It… it doesn't matter!" Chie was trying to hedge with a hopeful smile. "Really, like I said, it was gonna come out sometime! Do you really think Ebihara could hide that forever? Like, he's kinda snowing the whole school…"

"Shut up!" Rise snapped, as Yukiko covered her mouth with her hand in alarm at the sharp tone. "That wasn't your choice, okay? And like I said, if I didn't tell, and Ai-chan for fucking sure didn't tell, then there's only one person it could be! Because I-"

"Oh dear," Yukiko whispered.

"Hey! I didn't commit any crime!" Chie shot back, starting to get heated herself now as she clenched her fists. "Tell that to the drag queen you've been hanging around with — he's the one that's gonna catch hell if they figure out he's been using girls' bathrooms and stuff! He should at least tell us if he wants to-"

"It's my fault."

Rise was still shouting when she turned to Yukiko. "What?! I mean…" She cleared her throat, tried to take the volume down a notch. "What?"

"Chie told me. When we were… well, when we were alone, because we're best friends. As you know, because we have already discussed things… so I was the beginning of the problem. I'm sorry."

"Yuka…" Chie sighed, grimacing. Clearly, at some point she had realised what had happened, and shifted her tactic to protecting her significant other. Rise would have respected it… if they weren't both going to be on her list now. At least that cleared up the true reason Yukiko had gasped; it was a sound of recognition.

"Really? You?" Rise said, completely betrayed. And disappointed; that much must have been readily apparent, because the innkeeper hung her head in shame.

"Yes. And Chie was so conversational about it, I… didn't realise… you seem very upset about all the rumours that have started going around now. Did we… have we done something wrong?"

Rise let out an exasperated noise. "Are you kidding? Of COURSE you did!" In the back of her mind, she knew she was basically just coming down on them to sidestep the blame Ai had thrown her way, but she couldn't stop; they had to pay for ruining everything. Someone had to, and she couldn't face herself. Not at the moment. "Do you have any idea what life would be like for her if they figured out for sure?!"

"Dude, who cares?" Chie tried to tell her reasonably. "Remember when we found out about Naoto? We're all cool! So what if she's a chick instead of a dude, or Ai's a dude instead of a chick?"

"U-um, I prefer you leave me out of this discussion," Naoto said in a quiet undertone. "If that's alright."

Throwing up her hands in surrender, Rise began to pace back and forth as she said, "This is unbelievable. I really didn't think confiding in one friend… well, I guess I should ask who you told, Yukiko."

Rise was too observant to miss the glance between her and none other than Yosuke. The boy gulped when she turned her glare on him, holding up both hands in front of his chest.

"N-now, let's be reasonable here. Just a second while I explain-"

"UGH! Did everybody here play a part in this?!" No answers. Rise groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay, well… I guess I'm going to be eating a whole big plate of crow later. If she even talks to me."

"Don't be so dramatic," Chie sighed as she rolled her eyes, hands on her hips now. "You're friends, you'll bounce back before you know it!"

But the idol was already shaking her head before she even finished. "You didn't see how mad she was. I'm… I'll see you later."

"But you just got here," Yukiko protested in a pleading voice, taking a step toward her. "I'm sorry we didn't understand the situation, but do you really have to go?"

"Yes. Got a lot of thinking to do."

As Rise headed toward the elevator, she passed Kanji coming from it. He smiled and waved and asked, "What's up?"

"Ask our Judas friends."

"Huh?!" He got no answer to his question. As the doors slid shut, she thought she could just barely hear him say, "Man, chicks sure are crazy," but it was too late for her to attack him since she was already heading downstairs. Oh well; there was always next time for him to pay for his crime against her gender.

                                                  ~ o ~

That was on her mind a lot as she lay in bed that night, staring up at her ceiling. Gender. Sexuality. The differences between men and women. How those lines could be blurred right in front of her eyes and she had no idea. And when she wasn't thinking about that, she was thinking about…

Why didn't she realize she shouldn't have told Chie? Theoretically, she should have been able to confide in her and everything be fine — and she also knew none of her friends really intended to hurt anyone. They were just careless. But now she could see with sobering clarity that carelessness still had consequences. Would Ai really have to transfer again, just because the secret got out?

Something that made her blood run cold whenever she thought of it: that comment about guys beating her up. Just because she used the women's bathroom? When she thought of it as a man sneaking in there, she supposed that made sense. Most guys would do that to protect any women from being harmed. But she had gone to the bathroom alongside Ai plenty of times — enough to know that she never did anything in there except her business, and preen in front of the mirror. At least she had found a way to prove to those nosy girls that she was all woman.

Even if it was a lie, technically speaking. Which confused Rise so much she just wound up stuffing her head underneath her pillow.

All her texts went unanswered, of course. She had expected that. Somehow, she still couldn't help herself and sent a grand total of seven before she manually turned off her phone to reduce the temptation.

The worst part of all? Now she couldn't talk to any of her friends about it, either. That was what got her into this fix in the first place! So all she could do was panic, wallow, and panic again.

                                                  ~ o ~

If Rise had thought the previous day was unpleasant, Tuesday definitely counted as a catastrophe.

"Oh my God," she overheard a girl muttering as she walked in through the front gates. "Can you believe she would ever look like that?"

Unfortunately, she only had a few minutes of blissful peace to have no idea what they were talking about. The minute she reached into her locker to get her indoor shoes, she felt the glossy paper on top of them. Withdrawing it, she felt her heart sink when she saw her own face.

A goofy face indeed. There was nothing particularly wrong with the picture; she had been trying on dresses in Croco Fur and was sticking her tongue out with her finger up her nose, obviously making the stupid face for the camera. Nothing incriminating, just vaguely embarrassing. However…

Everyone seemed to have a copy. No matter which way she looked, every single student of Yasogami seemed to have a glossy paper in their hands. Rise felt her face begin to heat up. She had done nothing wrong, and the picture wasn't that bad, but seeing the entire student body laughing at her brought on the reaction regardless.

"Wow, this is hilarious," some guy was saying as she headed to class. "Thought Risette was so cool but she's actually dumb. Look at this! Her finger's in her nose, gross!"

"I think it's cute," his friend said. "She's having fun."

But another guy in glasses standing nearby just sighed and rolled his eyes. "You plebs. Obviously this is just another publicity stunt orchestrated by her management. She probably distributed them herself."

The idol stormed into the room before she had to hear any more. Did they really think she had nothing better to do than print off a bunch of pictures of herself and throw them all over the place?!

"Uh, hey."

She looked up, ready to ream the speaker, when she saw a chagrined looking Kanji standing there, scratching the back of his head. "May I help you? Or am I too crazy?"

His weak chuckle spoke volumes. "Heard that, huh? Sorry… I just didn't know what to say when you snapped at me. Guys filled me in after you left."

"What? You mean the way you all stabbed me in the back by gossiping about my girlf- my new friend?" Damn. She would have to be more careful about that.

"Hey, I didn't do that shit," the tall, dangerous looking boy grunted with his arms folded over his barrel chest. Sometimes Rise forgot just how intimidating Kanji was to most people, because they knew him better than that now. He was a big teddy bear under that yakuza-esque exterior. "Yosuke was the real problem, I guess. He was talking about it to Naoto, and wasn't paying attention to who was around them. Bunch of people overheard. And Naoto didn't say shit to anybody, so don't blame her!"

Rise sighed. Unsurprising that he was so defensive of her, since his crush ran so deep. "Fine. So it's Chie and Yukiko's fault a little bit, and as usual, Yosuke's fault a lot. At least they're the same old idiots they've always been."

Kanji nodded with another grunt. "So… what's with the photo?"

"Ughhhhhhhh."

                                                  ~ o ~

The way Ai was standing at the edge of the school roof, gazing over Inaba, almost made it look like she was lying in wait for Rise when she got there. Probably because she was — and had been since the start of lunch. The popstar shoved the glossy page in front of her face.

"Well? What exactly is this supposed to mean?"

"Mean? Why, I don't know. Isn't that your picture? Aren't you supposed to be the one who knows?"

"You took this. I literally remember you taking it, with your phone, not mine. So why would you go to all this trouble to print up a dumb picture?"

Ai's smirk was practically demonic as she looked sideways at her without fully turning. The worst part was that she still was as beautiful as ever, even when being an asshole. "A beginning. By the time I'm through with you, you will be begging me to stop, and I won't. I won't stop until you feel the way I did yesterday."

"Right. So this is a really pathetic beginning to a revenge plot?"

"Hah! Good try. Have you forgotten how much abuse I've weathered over my entire lifetime? You're going to have to do better than that to undercut me."

"Ai, you don't have to do this," she pleaded in a quieter voice. "This is nowhere near what I wanted, I still don't want it. I made a mistake, and I'm sorry, but attacking me like this isn't going to-"

She fell silent when Ebihara actually yawned. Her anger flared, and her eyes narrowed to slits as her fists curled tight. "That's your pitch? 'Whoops, I outed you and almost ruined your life, hugs'? Lame."

"Fine," Rise hissed. "I guess this didn't mean anything to you at all. Throw it all away because you're butthurt. Whatever."

"That's why I'm doing it, you idiot." Now her aloof tone had dropped to absolute zero. "Because it did — it meant everything in a way you will never understand. And now I feel stupid for trusting you, because you broke it. Don't go acting all high and mighty and trying to play the sympathy card."

Rise's eyes were watering as she tried to come up with something to say. The bratty side of her personality wanted to swear her own revenge, that she would make things even worse for Ai… but she knew she wouldn't be able to live with that. Besides, it was the wrong move, regardless of what her friend…

Regardless of what her ex-friend had done. It was really over. And figuring that out took all the wind out of her sails.

"Okay. Bye."

"That's it?" Ai chuckled harshly as the idol turned away, walking toward the stairwell. "Wow, you're usually so much chattier. You had better thicken up that skin, Kujikawa, or the next few days are going to be pretty unbearable!"

They really would. Just not for the reason Ai thought. Mourning the end of something beautiful tended to put a damper on one's week.

                                                  To Be Continued…

[im-a-star-boy]

Uno Reverse Card

So I finished this last decade but I forgot to upload it so like- here. Worked on it with @fandomsumthing as usual!

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Summary: Peter always has witty comebacks but sometimes they come back and bite him in the ass. That’s okay, if you don’t have an overprotective boyfriend who will fight anyone who looks at you the wrong way.

Word Count: 6,703

Date Of Completion: Monday, December 30th, 2019 (LAST FIC OF THE 2010′S!!!)

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Prepared. A word that people say perfectly describes Peter. For the most part, they’re right. He always had copies of his homework and bandaids with disinfectant on hand. Another word that people use to describe is quick-witted. Always ready to snap back with a better joke or insult. Now combined those and what comes out is a power that is seen as inhuman.

“Fucking fag.” One of the boys, Carlton, who’d been bullying him growled.

He and two other boys had Peter cornered to a locker, and a good number of students were standing by, watching uncomfortably. Peter simply grinned and shuffled around in his back pocket for a moment, before pulling out a self-painted rainbow reverse card. “No u,” Peter replied simply, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Carlton, along with his goons, turned a light red as the crowd around them let out snickers or full-on laughs. This was obviously not their plan at all. Carlton shot an angry look at Peter, who smiled in return. They both knew that physically fighting during school was prohibited, so Carlton backed off with his friends following.

Peter didn’t think that he had done anything too noteworthy, but that was because he’s never heard anything Carlton had done to people who stood up to him. That’s because no one spoke about what he had done to them out of fear. Carlton had little morals, so he wouldn’t steal anything from them, but he would make them feel as embarrassed as him or as hurt as him.

As Peter stepped out of his last class, an extra bounce to his step from passing a test, he happily strutted down the hallway, prepared to drop off his things then do a patrol. He stopped at his locker and shoved his schoolbag into his locker. He had lost so many backpacks that he just set aside one for school and left everything in there. He grabbed his backpack that held his suit, extra clothes, and snacks, and happily began walking to the exit.

He said his goodbyes to Gwen and Anya who both had extra work that they were doing in their labs. Not that they were failing or anything, they just had a personal project together. Miles wasn’t there because he was meeting him on patrol.

“Someone’s really chipper,” Anya commented as she noticed Peter’s slight bounce.

Peter smiled. “I passed that surprise English test.”

“The one about the book no one read?” Gwen asked. It was true, no one read the book because it didn’t have substance. Usually, the books assigned were really great, but this one just was all over the place.

“Yup! Hey, I gotta go meet up with Harry so can we talk about this later?” Peter asked. The two girls shared a smile at each other then looked back at Peter.

“You two going to hold hands?” Gwen asked, her voice mocking a small child. Peter and Anya laughed.

“I’m going to be late if I don’t go now,” Peter said smiling.

“Alright, see ya around!” Gwen called as he walked away.

Peter laughed to himself and walked towards the exit. He checked his phone, seeing that Harry had texted him. As he exited the building, he felt his spidey sense suddenly scream. He looked up, seeing no immediate danger when he felt someone grab his collar and drag him to the side before being thrown down onto the pavement with a surprising amount of force. He looked up in alarm, to see Carlton standing over him with a malicious look in his eye. “Hey Parker, wanna chat?”

“By the looks of it, you don’t want to do much chatting.” Peter got to his feet to run. He could easily take Carlton, but that would most definitely reveal his identity as Spider-Man or at the very least raise suspicions.

Before Peter could get away, Carlton grabbed a fist full of Peter’s hair and pulled. It felt like he was trying to scalp him. “Leaving so soon? Come on, my friends would like to chat with you too, fag.” Carlton growled.

Peter followed him, assuming that if he didn’t then he’d be dragged by the hair and it was already painful enough. “You know this counts as a hate crime,” Peter muttered.

Carlton simply scowled before throwing him onto the ground and kicking him in the stomach. “Shut the fuck up.” He snarled, as his friends approached.

Before Peter could stand up to defend himself, he felt someone kick him in the back. As more people began to kick him, he curled into a ball, squeezing his eyes shut. After a moment, he felt someone grab a fistful of his hair again and practically drag him to his feet. He let out a cry of pain before someone grabbed his arms and pinned them behind his back. Carlton was glaring daggers at him. He rolled up his sleeves before punching him hard in the face. Peter felt blood wash down his face from his nose as he staggered backward. He was pushed forward by the boy who had grabbed his arms. He clenched his fist as his face was met with concrete. He coughed and was pulled to his feet once more. Peter growled as he was thrown against the wall, and one of Carlton’s friends punched him in the gut. Peter coughed as he slumped backward.

Peter’s phone had fallen out and Carlton had picked it up, seeing all the messages from Harry. The heart right next to his name didn’t go unnoticed. “Hold him against the wall,” Carlton ordered and his friends did so. Peter was still slumped over and catching his breath when they did so.

“So you are someone’s fuck toy Parker?” Carlton smirked, holding the phone up to Peter’s face. Peter looked up barely. He saw Harry’s name and swore to himself.

“That’s my best friend.” Peter partially lied.

Carlton laughed. “Best friend.” He mocked. “That’s bullshit.”

Peter held his tongue, despite wanting to launch at Carlton, who was laughing. “Makes sense, someone like you being a goddamn cockwarmer.” He sneered.

Peter felt his face flush with embarrassment. “It’s not like that!” He snapped, struggling lightly to push one of the other boys off.

Carlton laughed once again, before throwing Peter’s phone on the ground, shattering it. The battery fell out, shutting his phone off. Peter flinched as Carlton stomped on it, an amused look on his face. He punched him one more time before spitting on his face. “Come on guys, let’s take out the trash.” He sneered.

Peter let out a cry of alarm as the other two boys picked him up. “God he’s so light!” One of them shouted, seeming alarmed.

Peter kicked frantically as Carlton opened the dumpster. He felt himself fall for a second, then he landed on a trash bag. He yelped in pain as scrap metal dug into his back. What was he expecting, it was a school that centers on building robots for god’s sake!

“How’s it feel to be home?” One of them laughed.

“This might seem surprising, but this isn’t my first time in a dumpster.” Peter groaned. He didn’t sit up or adjust himself. Passed off what he’s experienced with Carlton, if he did, he’d get knocked out or worse. How did he even get into Horizon?

“Well, this will the longest time.” Carlton was about to close the lid but one of his friends grabbed his wrist. “What? Are you pussying out?”

“No, just wait a sec.” He said and then there were footsteps and some rustling. He came back and handed Carlton something. From where Peter was lying he could see a smirk on his face.

“This is why you’re my friend, Jim. You always think of something to make these things better.” A trash bag landed on Peter’s gut, knocking the wind out of him.

“Come on guys, I think we’re finished here,” Carlton called. He looked down at Peter one last time with a smile and then slammed the lid shut. He could hear his friends laughing as they walked off. Peter waited a few more minutes before trying to open the lid.

“Shit,” Peter mumbled to himself, realizing as the lid only jiggled that Carlton must have locked the lid before leaving. His anxiety began to rise as he realized how stuck he actually was. Breaking through the dumpster itself was a no go, he’d get more injured and is someone was walking by then he could be discovered as Spider-Man. If someone was walking by… Peter began banging on the side of the dumpster and calling for help.

After a few minutes, he had begun to run out of breath. He gave up for a while but never stopped tapping the side with his knuckles. After what must’ve been an hour or two, he heard a clicking. He looked up and was startled as streams of light poured into the dumpster. He covered his eyes with his hands, before grinning. “Nice weather we’re having, am I right?”

The lid dropped and he heard a shriek. After a second, the lid opened again. “Holy fuck- are you okay?”

Peter realized he must look like shit. Black eyes, bloody nose, cuts, and scrapes. He shrugged. “Eh, could be worse.”

The man reached in and helped Peter out of the dumpster. “God kid, go tell Modell what happened to you. That’s a nasty prank to pull.”

“Yeah. Um, could you help me to the schoolyard?” Peter asked. He knew he heard Carlton and his friends walk down the opposite direction of the school, but he also wasn’t sure if they decided to circle around in that time.

“I’ll walk you right to the door. You look like you’re about to pass out.” The man offered. Peter nodded, he often looked worse than he actually was.

Peter stopped. “W-wait.” He stumbled to the scraps of his phone. It was definitely beyond repair.

He searched through the busted metal before letting out a relieved sigh. The SD card remained undamaged. He carefully put the card in his pocket and returned to the mans’ side.

The walk there was fast, the trash guy really worried about Peter. He got to the doors and hesitated. “Do you have a card or something?” He asked Peter.

“Yeah, in my bag- shit.” Peter didn’t have his bag on him. Which held his Spider-Man suit. Did Carlton take it? Did he already know? What if he-

“I have it right here. I saw it next to the dumpster and grabbed it when we started walking.” He handed over the bag. “I thought you might have some important things in there. I gotta go, my job can’t be put on hold for too long.”

Peter nodded, “Check the trash.” Peter joked, getting a chuckle from the man as he walked away.

Peter sighed and debated on telling Max. He was a busy man, and he didn’t really want anyone else on campus to see him as beat to hell as he was. He sighed, before deciding to take a shower in one of the shower rooms. The school decided to install them after several kids had buckets upon buckets of paint fall on them. Not to mention any other lab accident that may happen. Peter stepped into one of the showers and washed the blood and dirt off of him. He sighed as he pulled on his shirt and jeans. They didn’t smell too foul and Peter sprayed a bit of provided Febreze onto him. He quickly decided he would change outfits and tell Max what happened the next day. Even if his wounds healed, the trash man and cameras would be able to defend his point.

Peter looked in a mirror and saw the scraps on his face along with the black eye. He grabbed his bag quickly, thinking he had makeup in there. Even with his super-fast healing, he found that bruise still took longer to heal. Maybe his body saw the cuts as more important and went for them first? He didn’t know.

He started digging through the bag and realized that he didn’t have enough makeup to cover the whole bruise. That was going to cause trouble. Letting out a sigh, Peter had no choice but to make the walk to the subway sporting a bruise. He reached for his phone only to remember that Carlton completely destroyed it. Now he couldn’t tell Harry he wasn’t going to show or Miles that he couldn’t go on patrol until later. He let out a heavy sigh, trusting that they’d understand until he could pay for a replacement, as he began down the hallway.

He got to the train station with nothing more than a few weird looks. He sat down and began fidgeting uncomfortably. After a few painfully long minutes, he got to his stop and jogged the rest of the way. When he arrived home, he walked into the kitchen. There was a note on the table. ‘Long shift at work today, won’t be home until 10:30, dinner is leftovers. -Love, May.’ He smiled softly and made a sandwich, before taking it upstairs to his room to do his homework.

After about an hour and a half, he heard the doorbell ring. Peter hurried down the stairs, knowing it wasn’t May but still wondering who it was. He got to the door and the person knocked.

“Peter?” Harry’s voice rang from behind the door. He sounded slightly peeved. Peter opened the door and Harry let out a relieved sigh.

“I’ve texted you 50 times, no answer. I’ve called you 15 times, no answer. Can I please have an e-“ Harry stopped and took in Peter. He had his hand cupped over his eye like was blocking something from him. “Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” Peter asked, acting like nothing was up but failing horribly.

“You know what I mean.” Harry took a step in and shut the door behind him. “Why are you hiding your eye from me?”

“No reason.” Peter squeaked, he cursed himself for doing so.

His boyfriend grew suspicious of him. Harry began walking towards Peter while Peter backed away. Soon Peter’s back hit the wall which caused him to gasp because of the bruise on his back. Before he could slide away, Harry placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and moved his hand so it was on top of Peter’s. He grabbed Peter’s hand lightly pulled it away, seeing Peter’s black eye and scratch. His other hand immediately cupped his face. “Peter, what happened?!”

“Har, I’m okay. I just- rough patrol?” His voice came out more as a question than a reply.

“Miles called me and said you never showed up for patrol,” Harry said. “And these injuries would’ve been well over healed by now if they were from last night or even this morning.”

Peter let out a resigned sigh. “I got beat up…” he mumbled.

Harry let out a sigh, before leading him to the couch. “Come on, tell me what happened.” He murmured.

Peter immediately laid onto Harry’s lap, his head using Harry’s legs as a pillow, as he’d done so many times before. Harry instinctively began running his fingers through Peter’s uncombed hair. Peter hummed softly. “They called me a fag and I pulled out a reverse card,” Peter admitted casually.

Harry stuttered. “You’re kidding. You’ve gotta be kidding- Peter!”

He sat up. “It was funny though! They were blushing and everything, you should’ve seen it.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “Then what?”

“Then they beat me up and locked me in a dumpster.”

Harry looked down at him as he laid down on his lap again. “Like, locked you locked you, or you just stayed in there?”

“Like locked me locked me.”

He let out a deep sigh. “What’re their names, I’ll take care of them.”

Peter glared at him. “Well, there’s no way that’s happening.”

“Peter, they beat you up and left you bleeding in a dumpster.”

“You’d kill them!” Peter sat up to look him in the eyes.

“Peter! They treated you like trash! They literally threw you in the trash!” Harry’s eyes widened as he realized what Peter was doing. “You’re protecting them! Why are you doing that? They don’t deserve to be justified by you!”

“No!” Peter stood up. “I’m telling Max tomorrow. Don’t yell at me for protecting them, they don’t need to be protected. You, on the other hand, are being overprotective right now.”

Harry took a deep breath. “How am I supposed to believe you when in the past that is exactly what you’ve done?”

“Name a time that I’ve done that.” Peter was getting slightly defensive.

“Flash, Alex Simpson, Ricky Fresno, James-“ Harry stopped when Peter sat back next to him.

“That was a rhetorical question,” Peter muttered.

Harry sighed. “Pete, you can’t stop putting off your own health. Come on, let’s get you bandaged up.”

Peter made a face. “Harry, I have speed healing.”

“That doesn’t mean you should leave these wounds open. They could get infected.”

Peter shuddered at the idea. He once had a cut on his arm infected. It wasn’t something he wanted to deal with ever again to say the very least… He let out an irritated sigh, before nodding. “Alright fine.”

Harry pulled him to the bathroom, where Peter removed his shirt and sat down on the toilet. Harry sighed sadly when he saw the dark bruises on Peter’s chest and back. He grabbed disinfectant and began to clean Peter’s wounds, feeling his heartbreak every time the brunette flinched under his touch. There was a large gash in Peter’s back. Harry could only imagine what kind of scrap metal had been large enough to make an injury as large as that one. Luckily none of them were still bleeding.

Harry placed a hand on Peter’s back to get him to stop squirming. He didn’t realize that he had placed it on his bruise until he noticed that Peter was holding his breath. He pulled his hand back only to have Peter lean back on it.

“Your hands are cold.” Peter’s voice was slightly lighter than usual at the beginning of the sentence and slowly came back down to normal.

Harry sighed softly and held his hand there as he gently cleaned out the cut on his back. After a minute or two, he finished cleaning it out. He grabbed the bandages and began wrapping his wounds carefully. “Is that too tight?” He asked.

Peter shook his head. “No,”

Harry nodded. “Okay, wait here.”

He left the room and searched Peter’s closet carefully, before picking out a large, fluffy hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants. He returned to the bathroom to see Peter picking lightly at the bandages. “Here.” He said, handing him the clothes.

Peter thanked him, pulling the clothes on, as Harry left to search the freezer for an ice pack. Harry came back to find Peter standing.

“Peter, you should be sitting.” Harry tried getting him to sit on the sink but Peter kept standing.

“I’m just a little bruised and cut up. Nothing broken.” Peter saw Harry’s worry and smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine, you know that I’ve been through way worse. I’ll be fine by morning.”

Harry made a face. “Come on let’s cuddle.” He decided for him.

Peter immediately perked up and happily followed Harry to his room. Peter dug his laptop out of his backpack as Harry sat down on his bed, making room for Peter. After a minute or two of searching for his charger and plugging the laptop in, Peter nestled into Harry’s side. He put the ice pack carefully onto Peter’s back as the laptop loaded up. “So why didn’t you reply to my texts?” Harry asked, pulling a blanket over the two of them.

Peter made a sour face. “Carlton broke my phone. I tried to get the scraps but they were too busted up. I got the SD card though and the rest of my stuff is stored on the cloud so I don’t think I lost anything.”

“Carlton?” Harry sat up slightly to look at Peter. Peter groaned as he realized the name slip. “You mean Carlton Wagner? He did this to you?”

“Yeah, I guess. With some of his friends.” Peter sighed.

“Of course it was.” Harry groaned. “That kid has serious anger issues.”

Peter could practically see the cogs turning in Harry’s brain. “Stop that.”

Harry looked down. “What?”

“You’re plotting something, stop it. I already told you, I’m going to tell Max tomorrow. Let it go for now.” Peter argued softly.

Harry sighed and pulled Peter closer. “Alright alright. I’ll stop.”

Peter made a relaxed noise as Harry began running his fingers through his hair. He logged into his computer and brought up Netflix. “What do you wanna watch?” He hummed, feeling relaxed.

Harry shrugged. “Whatever looks good.”

Peter looked up and started staring at Harry. “What are you looking at?” He asked jokingly.

“You said we should watch what looks good. I am.” Peter replied playfully.

“Oh my god, you are that cheesy.” Harry groaned but slowly began to laugh.

“I’m just stating facts here, Mister looks good in every picture.” Peter smiled as he clicked on Criminal Minds.

“I do not,” Harry stated. When he said that, Peter immediately made a face. He reached into Harry’s pocket, pulled out his phone, and went to his pictures.

“Yes, you do.” Peter stopped scrolling and faced the phone to Harry. “See?”

The picture showed Gwen holding Peter’s phone. Harry remembered that picture being taken because Peter’s chair gave out right then. Peter was super blurry, but his slight panicked face was still able to be seen. Miles and Anya were slightly blurry, having dived to catch Peter. Harry had also dived for Peter, but he wasn’t blurry. He looked straight out of a magazine. Harry rolled his eyes. “You photoshopped that before you sent it to me.” He defended. “I know you have the skills.”

Peter grinned, snuggling closer to Harry. “It totally wasn’t.” He denied, shoving Harry’s phone back in his pocket.

The ice pack cooled his back as he leaned into Harry, feeling the weight of sleep quickly begin to press down on him. “Are you allowed to stay the night?” He asked through a yawn.

Harry hummed. “Yeah probably, why?”

Peter shifted as close as he could as the episode began playing. “I don’t wanna move anymore.”

Harry let out a content sigh as he watched along with Peter. Not just because he was hanging out with his boyfriend but also because he had just come up with the perfect plan for revenge.

~~~

“You know that you don’t have to walk me to school.” Peter stepped out of the subway with Harry in tow.

“Oh, but I want to.” Harry smiled with faux innocence. Peter gave Harry a look as they got out of the crowd.

“What are you planning Harry?” Peter sighed, knowing that it was going to be something against Carlton.

“You’ll see, bug, you’ll see.” Harry hummed.

Peter gave him a skeptical look, before leaning into Harry. After 10 minutes, the train stopped. Peter led Harry to Horizon, stepping into the bright sun. Peter began walking to Max’s office. Harry waited outside as Peter knocked. After a moment, the heard, “Come in,” and Peter entered Max’s office.

He looked around, waiting to see if Carlton would walk past. He remembered Carlton from the short time he was at Horizon. No one knew how he got into Horizon with his temper of personality. He was smart and all, but an all-around dick. Maybe he was able to trick Max into thinking that he was a good guy or that he could change.

The only reason he’s been able to stay in was that people were too scared to actually tell on him. That’s how terrible this kids’ beat ups were. He let out a sigh, knowing Peter must’ve been in pain from this kid. Every second he thought about it made him angrier and angrier. Harry watched silently, before hearing a familiar sneering laugh. He looked up and watched Carlton and a few other boys pass. He looked to the door Peter had disappeared behind, and then to Carlton, who was turning a corner. He made up his mind and followed Carlton.

“He wasn’t reported missing.” One of the guys said.

“Then he either got out or we did his family a favor.” Carlton laughed and the others did as well.

“What about his lover? Do you think that he’s looking for him?” Another asked.

“Harry is probably not even his boyfriend. He probably just fucked him once out of need or to make that whore less bitchy.” Carlton answered. “Parker is just his late-night booty call. But could you imagine? Harry Osborn loving a fag like him?”

Harry, upon hearing that, felt furious. He rushed up to them, grabbed Carlton, spinning him around, and decked him in the face. Carlton stumbled back, letting out a cry of alarm, before falling on his ass and covering his bloody nose. “Fuck!” He screamed.

“Excuse me, I thought I heard you talking shit about my boyfriend, could you repeat that?” He snarled, an angry look on his face.

A few people stopped to stare. One boy immediately made a face, before standing up and covering the camera. A few people began moving around, blocking cameras and deactivating security bots. Harry grinned. He knew that Carlton had made enemies, but he didn’t think he’d made enemies of the entire school.

Carlton recomposed himself and scowled. “Well if it isn’t the rich kid that got kicked out of Horizon. What are you even doing here?” Carlton sneered and he raised his fists.

“I’m here on Peter’s behalf, and you’re right. I don’t go here so I can’t be kicked out. You, on the other hand, can be kicked out.” Harry couldn’t help but let his smug expression shine through. Next thing he knew, Carlton was swinging. He got Harry in the gut, which caused Harry to stumble.

“Kick his ass, Harry!” A short girl with black fading into purple yelled. Her voice only broke through the crowd’s cheers for a second. Harry threw another punch at Carlton and it was a pretty good hit, but Carlton had good hits as well.

~~~

“Thank you for telling me this Peter,” Max said standing. “Carlton was a part of a raffle to get into Horizon. Some of the teachers along with me thought it would be a good way to give more people a chance to learn.”

“Really? No background checks or anything?” Peter questioned.

“There was on all of the raffle winners. Carlton’s record was clean, now I think it’s because he used scare tactics on his victims. He had the grades.” Max sighed. “I promise that he’s going to be kicked out and everyone will be questioned about him.”

“Thanks, Max. I really appreciate-“ Peter trailed off as he picked up on cheering. Max wouldn’t have been able to hear it, but Peter could and he knew what was going on. “Max, I think something stupid is going on.”

“What?” Max asked as Peter stood up and walked to the door.

“Come with me, please? And also am I allowed to stop Harry from being an idiot?” Peter asked as he opened the door. Max nodded and followed Peter.

They both reached the crowd and some students turn to face Max. They seemed to be ready to create a wall between the fight and Max.

“Is Harry fighting Carlton?” Peter asked, displaying his worried side rather than his annoyed. He knew Harry would get into a fight with Carlton, but he thought he’d at least be there to stop it.

The kids guarding looked at each other then back to Peter. “Please let me through, I gotta stop him from murdering him,” Peter begged. They looked at each other again then moved to let Peter through.

Peter nodded to not only them but to Max as well. After passing them, Peter let his worried facade melt away. To say that he was pissed was an understatement. He understood that Harry was protective over him, but he didn’t understand that he couldn’t just go and start a fight.

The people around him seemed to feel his anger as he passed because they made way and quiet down. It was probably the look on his face that was so full of poison that it could kill a raddled The hulk with one glance. Peter neared the center and saw Harry and Carlton fighting like animals. He let out a disappointed noise and walked towards them. They didn’t notice him until Peter grabbed them both by the hair and banged their heads together.

“Idiotas! Tanto de usted! Conmigo! Ahora mismo!” Peter yelled. The hallways went silent with his yell. Sure, they knew Peter could get angry and spoke Spanish, but never had they seen him hurt someone out of anger. He almost reminded them of Anya when she got angry.

Harry was about to say something when Peter tightened his grip on his hair. “No hay excusas! No puedo dejarte solo por diez minutos sin maldito vas feral!” Peter hissed as he dragged both of them by the hair to Max. Carlton tried to escape from Peter’s grasp only to receive a tug.

“No me prueba Carlton. Ya estoy harto con toda tu mierda, es toda esta escuela.” Peter hissed as the got right in front of Max.

He dropped both of them and got a good look at them. Harry’s nose was bleeding and he had a busted lip. It looked like Carlton had gotten him on the ground and stepped on his face or something. His hair was disheveled and he had a dark splotch under his eye. His neck was bright red like Carlton had attempted to choke him out. Carlton’s ear was ripped from Harry presumably pulling his earring out during the fight. He was holding his arm which had scrapes on it, somewhat like rugburn, and he had a large gash on his forehead that was bleeding, running down his face. Peter scowled, another rush of anger flaring from his gut, as he knocked their heads together once again. “If you try to beat each other up again I’m beating you both up.” He snapped.

He took a step back, so Max could look at the two. He glanced at Peter once and saw that he was still pissed. “You two need to go to the infirmary. Carlton, I’ll speak to you after your patch up. Come with me.” Max ordered. “All if you off to class.”

The rest of the students nodded and went off. It was a good thirty seconds before the grip on both Harry’s and Carlton’s heads disappeared and the found of footsteps echoed down the halls.

“Why am I the only one getting a talking to?” Carlton barked at Max.

“You have explaining to do to your parents why you’re being expelled. You’re lucky Peter won’t press charges unless you were to corner him again or anyone else. Especially because he has the evidence that would get you jail time for sure.” Max warned.

“I didn’t do nothing!” Carlton yelled.

“There’s no point in lying. There were cameras and a trash man that will testify finding Peter in that dumpster.” Max glared.

“That’s still doesn’t explain why he doesn’t get a talking to! He started this fight!” Carlton snarled.

“Because nothing that I can say will beat what Peter will say to him.” Max gave Harry a glance. Harry knew he was in for it when Peter knocked his head against Carlton.

“How could you tell?” Carlton question dully.

“He swore in Spanish,” Harry responded.

~~~

Max had Harry stay the whole school day in the infirmary. He got to hear the screaming match between Carlton and his parents. The way they fought was nothing like how he would fight with his father. Carlton was the aggressor while his parents only show disappointment in his actions. Not like his father’s because they actually had a reason to be disappointed.

There was a knock on the door and Max entered. “Sorry for holding you here all day. I knew that Peter wanted to talk to you so I thought it would’ve safer to do it here.” Max joked. “But unfortunately for you, Peter wants you to meet him at his house.”

Harry’s face immediately fell. “This will be the end of me, Max.”

Max chuckled. “Oh relax, he won’t kill you.”

Harry gave him a hard glare. “Yes, he will, Modell.”

Max raised his hands in surrender. “If you need a hospital, call me.”

Harry sighed. “I’ll keep that in mind. Here’s my will: everything goes to Peter even if he’s the one who kills me.”

Max laughed. “Noted. Go, don’t keep him waiting.”

Harry nodded and raced towards the exit. As he reached the entrance, he saw Peter leaning against the door, looking more than a little pissed. “H-Heeeyyyyy Pete…”

Peter looked up and Harry felt his blood run cold. He was definitely pissed. Peter looked away from Harry and began walking, not saying a single word. The whole way back to Peter’s place was like that. Harry tried to start up a conversation but only received glares.

Once getting to Peter’s house, Harry mentality prepared himself for the lecture he was about to get. He stepped in after Peter and shut the door behind him.

“What part of I’ll handle it don’t you get?” Peter said through his teeth.

“Peter, he was-”

“Harry, stop.”

Harry flinched. He knew Peter was mad at him but… he was really mad. “Harry, I promised you I’d take care of it. You watched me walk into Max’s office. I told you to wait outside. It was the one thing I asked of you! But no! You had to go off and literally start a fistfight! I asked ONE THING OF YOU HARRY!” His voice was progressively getting louder, and Harry knew he had crossed a boundary.

“I-I’m sorry, he was saying things and-” Harry began.

“Harry, I don’t care that he was saying things! He always says things! People always will say things! That is not probable cause to run off and start a fucking fight, Harry!”

“I just couldn’t let him say-“

“Oh for fuck sakes, Harold! I’m not a kid anymore! I don’t need you to stand up for me every single time something happens!” Peter yelled. “Even when I don’t do something I’m doing something! I’m holding myself back! I could have easily put Carlton and his friends in that trash can but I didn’t! I was being the bigger man! Me not fighting back doesn’t mean I need to be saved! Why can’t you see that?!”

Harry stared at the floor, feeling a rush of guilt. He knew Peter had his reasons for not fighting back, but Harry had his for fighting. He looked down. “I’m sorry Peter. He was saying bad things about you and I couldn’t just stand by and listen to that.”

Peter sighed. “I know Harry, I get you wanna protect me but you have to stop. There are times when it’s okay and times where it’s not. And that was not okay, Harry.” Peter wasn’t yelling anymore, but his voice still had a layer of warning to it that made Harry almost cower.

Harry looked up at Peter. He was standing across from him, his arms crossed, but he wasn’t looking at him. Finally, after a moment, Peter sighed loudly. “Come on, let’s change your bandages.”

Peter led Harry to the bathroom and began digging through the cabinets while Harry sat down on the counter. He pulled out the bandages and a cloth. Peter ran the cloth under water and left it to sit so he could remove Harry’s old bandages.

A scab had formed on Harry’s lip and the bruises had darkened slightly around his neck. Peter frowned as he pulled the rag out of warm water. He moved to Harry and kept his gaze on him as he wiped his mouth clean if the semi-crusted blood. Despite how vicious the fight had been, Harry didn’t have many bleeding wounds. Just his lip and a large cut on his cheek. Peter wiped his cheek and frowned when he saw Harry’s guilty look. He didn’t try to comfort him since what he did wasn’t okay, but it still hurt seeing Harry so upset. He swallowed thickly before applying Neosporin and replacing the bandages, before dropping the rag in the sink. “Come on.” He muttered, leaving the bathroom.

Harry watched for a moment, before pushing himself off the counter and following Peter into the living room. He was digging through the freezer before pulling out a small bead ice pack and a large bean ice pack. Peter walked over to Harry and put the big ice pack on Harry’s neck and pressed the other to his cheek.

It was silent. A bad silence. The atmosphere matched when Peter got into an argument with Norman. Granted Peter didn’t start it, but he did say a few choice words to Norman that got Harry upset. It was uncomfortable as Peter led him to the couch and sat him down. He visibly flinched as Peter stared at him for a moment before saying, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He began walking down the hall when he stopped. “And stay there this time.” He ordered.

He watched after Peter, feeling a rush of guilt and frustration. He hadn’t wanted to upset Peter, but he was really mad. He stared at the ground for a moment. He hadn’t noticed Peter walkout until a large blanket was draped over his shoulders. He looked up to see Peter avoiding his gaze. He sat down on the other side of the couch and reached into a plastic bag he had brought out. Harry watched curiously until Peter threw a Snickers bar at him, hitting him square in the face.

Peter sat on the other side of the couch and turned on the TV. After flipping through channels he stopped on the ID channel. He leaned himself into the armrest and watched. Peter didn’t feel like talking to Harry at the moment, but he also didn’t want him to leave. He just needed to calm down a little more so that he didn’t yell at Harry again. Luckily Harry knew Peter long enough to know that that was what his body language was saying.

Halfway through the first episode, Harry had spread the blanket over to Peter. If he had done that earlier Peter would have pushed it off. Peter cast a glance over to Harry, who was watching the TV but still looked downcast. He sighed. He was still upset, definitely, but that was still his boyfriend who was still in pain. He scooted over to Harry and shuffled under his arm, leaning into him. Harry looked surprised and began smiling and leaned down to kiss him. Peter hissed dangerously. “Don’t push your luck, Osborn.” He warned.

Harry immediately stopped and pulled away. He glanced down at Peter. He definitely still looked upset. His eyes were narrowed and he was tense against Harry, but Harry could feel him beginning to ease down. He closed his eyes and sighed softly and leaned back.

When the episode ended and the other began, Peter leaned more into Harry. “You scared me,” Peter mumbled. “I just came out and heard the cheering and then you were acting like an animal.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said.

Peter shook his head. “It isn’t okay, Harry. Never do anything like that again, please. I couldn’t recognize you for a second there.”

Harry stiffened and nodded. “I won’t…” He mumbled.

Peter leaned the rest of his weight into Harry. “Not ever again.”

“I promise, I won’t lose it again,” Harry promised, leaning in and kissing the top of Peter’s head. Peter let out a relieved sigh as he closed his eyes.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Inferno: Part 3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

God I love Peter Parker so much. Anyways, he’s a dork even when he’s Spiderman. This is so fluffy I’m gonna get cavities. I have so many great ideas for next chapter! Also, I lied; there’s gonna be at least 5 parts.

You’re thankful for your fans. You really are. A good majority of them are sweet, caring individuals completely appalled at the blatant lies the American government sent out as a reason for your arrest. It’s nice to see people promoting positivity.

Unfortunately, being rich and having fans can sometimes lead people to hate you for no other reasons. You’re not saying there are rich people that don’t deserve to be loathed. Of course not. And maybe you do deserve to be hated. You’ve certainly done enough questionable stuff.

But at this point scrolling through your notifications feels like playing Russian Roulette with every chamber loaded.

cap2n/merica: Hey @Y/N_Stark, just do us all a favor and turn yourself into the authorities before you start melting people again.

bigbossbitch: @Y/N_Stark is another case of gross celebrity misconduct. Yes, her jail time was wrong, but now that she’s been released she’s just another spoiled celeb kid born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She gets away with murder just like her father does because of their wealth and it’s a sign of the American government’s (1/2)

You don’t feel like finding the second part of that tweet.

givemebackmymeat: @Y/N_Stark is an ice bitch

Stacey-Toland: yeah it’s great and all that New York gets Spiderman and @Y/N_Stark , but if they really cared about people they would branch out and help people in cities with a lot more crime. New York doesn’t need the Avengers, Spiderman, AND Inferno!

just-a-dumbass: y’all Inferno is the dumbest superhero name i’ve heard in a long time @Y/N_Stark

With a sigh, you turn your phone off. The public outcry will quiet down after the official statements are released. Everyone needs some time to cool off.

The pesky bandages on your hip crinkle as you sit up. You rip them off without looking. Tony insisted that you wear them last night after Helen Cho fished the bullet out of your hip. There’s no pain this morning, and you don’t even need to check to know there’s no scar.

The temptation is too great. Maybe you’re a masochist. You grab the phone before sitting down on the toilet, determined to find at least one positive comment about you in your feed. You try Instagram instead of Twitter this time. Since your public appearance last night, comments on your last post about a year ago have been flooding in.

spideyismydaddy: hey @The-Official-Spiderman what do you think about @Y/N_Stark? She invading your territory or what?

You click on @The-Official-Spiderman. It’s got to be a spoof or fan account, right? Sure enough, the account isn’t verified. You almost swipe out of it but your eyes catch on some of the photos he’s got uploaded. Either he’s super good at photoshop, or...

Is this really Spiderman’s account?

The photos look exactly like the crime-fighting spider you’d encountered last night. He doesn’t have a recent story that you can watch, but he does have a highlight story that you click on. In the first one, he does a backflip. The second clip is of him racing a train and winning. The third one is a pretty picture of the sunset.

You rest your hand on your cheek. Before you know it, you’ve watched his entire highlight story and wasted fifteen minutes sitting on the toilet.

“Miss Stark, your father wanted me to inform you that breakfast is ready,” FRIDAY says, making you jump a little bit. At first it had been a struggle to stop talking to her. The amount of times you’d say, “FRIDAY, turn off the lights,” or “FRIDAY, what time is it?” is a little bit embarrassing. No doubt how many times she’ll startle you will be embarrassing too.

“Sure,” you grunt, throwing a MIT sweatshirt on and shoving your phone in its pocket. “Coming.”

“Morning, sweetie,” Tony says cheerfully, attempting a smile when he looks at you. “I made your favorite—waffles.”

“Great.” You try a smile yourself. “I haven’t—that’s—thanks, Dad.” You’d been about to comment that you haven’t had waffles for over a year, but that would probably bring down both your spirits.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” You take a big bite of waffle and look as innocently as you can at your father. “Just peachy.”

Tony gestures to his own hip. “No... pain? Bleeding? Scar?”

You shake your head and shrug. “Healed overnight.”

“Good.” Your dad actually fiddles with his fingers as you take another bite. “I, um... I don’t know what you want to do.”

I want to spend time with you is the first thing that crosses your mind but it sounds way too sappy and weak. You settle on a shrug. The familiar fire under your skin wavers and you scowl to bring it back to a simmer.

The next time they try to take you away, you’ll be prepared. Even if you have to take out thousands of agents. But you can’t let go of your anger for even a second.

“I have an idea,” you say after another awkward silence, struck with a great idea that would involve time with your dad but doesn’t involve actually asking for it outright. “I couldn’t keep up with all the new shows and movies that came out. Maybe we could get Disney+ and, I don’t know, watch The Mandalorian? I saw a lot of Baby Yoda memes online and it looks like a cool show.”

“That’s the new Star Wars show that came out, right?” Tony checks. “With the ugly green baby?”

“Hey! He’s not ugly!”

“Well,” he starts. You already know he’s about to suggest a bad idea. “Star Wars is probably Parker’s expertise. Considering both of us won’t know what’s going on, maybe we should call him and have him here? Just to translate the nerd stuff to the non-nerds?”

The hand holding your waffle clenches. You should have known that Tony would try to involve his precious Peter Parker so he wouldn’t have to spend time alone with you.

The waffle starts to smoke and you drop it with disgust. “I’m going to the training room.”

“Come on, Y/N—” Tony starts but you stomp off. Why won’t you understand that he just wants you to make a friend? He’s not trying to replace you with Peter—he’s trying to get you to replace Tony, at least a little bit, with Peter.

Tony eyes the waffle you hadn’t finished. A clear outline of fingers is burnt onto its surface.

You stalk through the compound angrily, halfway expecting a team member to jump out at you. You were the last one to be released, after all. Then again, they’re all under house arrest or on the run. But what about the ones that had sided with Tony? “Where are they?” You’d love to run drills with Nat or talk with Rhodey.

“Tony cleared his schedule for the next week,” FRIDAY informs you. “He wanted this to be a more relaxed homecoming so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed before more enthusiastic well-wishers arrived.”

“He cleared out his schedule for everyone except Peter fuckin’ Parker,” you mutter. Jesus, how important is this kid to Tony? First he never stops talking about him to you, takes him to pick you up from jail, and now he’s banned everyone but him from the compound?

For lack of sparring partners, you decide that lifting weights and running on the treadmill wouldn’t be too bad. Thankfully your muscles didn’t atrophy too much while you were locked up, though you rarely mustered the energy for exercises. You left the heat simmering under your skin at all hours. Judging by how many times you woke up to singed blankets, you started doing it in your sleep too.

No doubt due to the Extremis, you can lift every weight in the weight room—together. It’s too easy, so you move to the treadmill.

Your feet pound on the track. With every step, another thought bombards your mind: Peter Parker smiling, how you spent three months in the cage before they consented to giving you a plant, the cell smaller than your whole bed, you never even saw the sun for months, Tony coming to brag about Peter fucking Parker—

Only when your foot hits the ground do you realize that you’re running hot. “Shit,” you mutter, reaching for the ‘off’ button. Your whole body is glowing bright red and instead of turning off, the keypad melts at your touch just like how your shoes had melted off and how the track is hardly more than a melted pile of goo around your red-hot feet. The poor treadmill gurgles unhappily and its gears stop churning.

“Miss Stark, you are not wearing your fireproof clothes,” FRIDAY points out.

“Yeah, I got that, FRI,” you respond through gritted teeth, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You need to calm down before your clothes burst into flame.

The red hue to your skin fades slightly.

You need to get your excess anger out. And you know exactly how to do that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some guy swings a metal bar into your face. Something definitely cracks but heals within seconds, so quickly you almost don’t register the pain. It doesn’t slow you down, anyway, and you grab the man’s arm before he can whack you again with the bar. You slam his head against the side of a brick building and he slumps to the ground. If he doesn’t wake up in thirty seconds, you’ve either given him brain damage or flat-out killed him. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Before you can turn around, your back burns. Not the comforting burn of your anger, but a stinging burn that takes your breath away.

You turn around slowly. The man’s partner backs away, his hands in the air as a scared expression takes over his face.

You reach behind you. Your hand hits something hard that makes the pain in your back worse. It’s the handle of a knife, you presume. With a wince, you pull it out of your back. The blade is dark with blood that you already feel dripping down your back. The wound will knit together, scab, scar, and fade. A body’s week- or month-long process of healing occurring in seconds.

You’re not thinking when you brandish the weapon, but thankfully a weird thwip sound interrupts you. The man’s raised hands find themselves stuck against a wall by a white, sticky substance.

“Shit!” a vaguely familiar voice hisses after a second thwip. “Oh Jesus! You killed him!”

You turn around. The man you’d knocked against the wall still hasn’t moved, but there’s a dark puddle spreading around his head. Spider-man takes a quick look at him, shakes his head, and looks at you.

“And you got stabbed!” Sounding sort of like a smothering grandmother, he spins you around and lifts up your shirt. “Oh, shit, that’s a lot of blood...”

“The wound’s probably closed by now,” you mutter. The ground sort of leans away from your feet and strong arms wrap around your waist as something swipes at your back.

“I don’t see an opening.” He gingerly takes the knife from your hand places it on the ground. Then you find that the ground is underneath your butt. Spider-man’s mask swims in your vision.

“I killed him?” you ask blearily. Shit. You can’t afford to be murdering people not two days after being released from prison. They’ll send you back. They’ll lock you in that cage! Is Spider-man here with them? You smack his hands away. He’s here to get you, he’s here to take you—

“Whoa, whoa, let’s calm down a little bit,” Spidey says beseechingly. “You don’t have any wounds, but you lost a lot of blood.”

“It’ll replenish soon,” you mutter. After some sugar. Sustenance. That would help. As if he’d heard your thoughts, Spidey waves something in front of you. It takes a hot second for your eyes to focus on it, but when you realize it’s a churro your mouth waters.

“I did not mean for this to go this way,” he mutters. Almost shyly, he thrusts it at you, saying, “Here. I got it for you.”

You’re not one to refuse free food. If he’s poisoned it, chances are the poison won’t affect you much, anyway. You’ll take your chances.

You wolf the churro down in record time. Now that you’re feeling less woozy, knots are starting to form in your stomach. Spider-man, a superhero largely known for helping people out, just witnessed you accidentally murdering someone.

And you just murdered someone. You need to take that knife and burn it in an alley far from here and toss it in the trash.

Heat rises in your cheeks, but it’s not anger-heat that can be used as a weapon or self-defense. Letting Spider-man see you like that is embarrassing.

“Are you feeling better? I can get you another churro, if you’d like, or maybe a burrito, I think I have enough cash for that...” Spider-man reaches into his back pocket, but maybe his tone is too light, maybe he’s not being nice and he’s trying to lull you into a false sense of safety.

Quick as a whip, you take the knife and hold it in Spider-man’s direction. The superhero falls back, his voice cracking as he exclaims, “Hey! Whoa! Please don’t stick me with that! Do you have any idea the potential ramifications of mixing blood? Not that I think you have STDs or something, but still, I could still get alien bacteria in me! The Extremis is still in your system, right? Well, of course it is! I really don’t need that in me because it might make me blow up! Please—”

You blink. He sounds like a kid. Like someone your age. He’s in no way your father’s age. And he’s definitely not a threat. “Relax.” You close your fist around the knife and channel your anger into that extremity. It melts within seconds and drips to the ground. You shake your hand of the last bit of molten metal and allow the flesh to return to regular temperature. “You’re not going to hurt me for killing him?” Your heart still races in his presence, but it’s starting to calm down.

“I saw everything.” Spider-man stands up awkwardly, especially for someone that can do backflips and crawl up walls, and points up to the top of a nearby skyscraper. “They attacked you. It was self-defense. Besides, these two killed a bystander in a shootout recently. I’m not saying they deserved it, because that would be really mean to say, but I’m also not saying that you’re a terrible person. You know?”

“You certainly talk a lot,” you comment. It’s amusing.

“Do you want me to stop talking?” Spider-man rubs his neck. “I know it can be annoying. My friends—”

You shrug. “Why were you watching?”

“Well, last night you got shot, right? And I see you out again fighting crime. So I’m like, ‘Holy crap, is she in pain, she’s probably not all right, maybe she’s getting mugged because she slept on the streets because I didn’t help her when she got shot in the hip and then you slammed that dude against the wall and I saw the other dude stab you and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the point.” You stuff your hands in your pockets. “It was my fault, anyway. If I was wearing my suit the knife wouldn’t have gotten so deep in. It probably wouldn’t have gotten in at all.”

“Why are you just wearing a MIT sweatshirt and sweatpants, by the way?”

You shrug. “Couldn’t be bothered to change.”

“Well, I think you’re going to have to now. There’s a big hole in your sweatshirt and your whole back is bloody.”

“Shit,” you mutter. “But that’ll lead people back to... him.” You shoot a glance at the dead man. “And he’s going to snitch on me.” You shoot a nervous glance at Spider-man. You have no idea how he’ll react to you considering a tied-up would-be mugger.

Spider-man shakes his head. “People will see my webs. They’ll blame me.”

“So we’ll both be blamed,” you say grimly. “Great.”

“Yeah, The Daily Bugle is going to have a field day. But we should get out of here.” Spider-man puts a hand on the small of your back (right where you’d been stabbed) and gently applies just enough pressure to get you moving. Shocked at the gentlemanly gesture, you take a few steps before remembering your bloodstained clothes. “I’ll get you new ones,” Spider-man says grimly when you voice your concern. “But then I won’t be able to get you a burrito.”

The sweet concern is touching. “It’s really okay,” you say. If you had your credit card, or any cash on you, you’d buy the poor boy as many burritos as he wanted. “You gave me your churro. You’ve done more than enough.”

“Well, I wanted to make a good impression!” His voice cracks again.

“Really?” you shoot him a glance out of the corner of your eye. “Why?”

“I don’t know a lot of other teenaged superheroes,” he shrugs. “I thought we could be friends.”

See, Dad? You think viciously. I can make friends without your interference. I’ve found a friend loads better than Peter Parker. “Get me a change of clothes and we’ll talk.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A radioactive spider, huh?”

“Yeah. And I know all about the Extremis. Killian.”

“Yeah. He murdered my mother and then tried to blow me up but my body didn’t reject the serum.”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Your mother’s death is like a bruise; tender when you poke at it but livable with. “What about your parents?”

“Oh, they’re both dead.” Spider-man gives you a half-shrug. “I live with my aunt. My uncle used to live with us until he died.”

“Shit, dude.” You lay down on the skyscraper, hesitant, and fold your hands together over your stomach clad in the I <3 NEW YORK sweatshirt Spider-man bought you. Goosebumps rise on your exposed legs, courtesy of the NEW YORK sleep shorts he’d barely had enough money to buy at that sleazy mart. What would you want someone to say to you?

“Like you said. I’ve dealt.” Spider-man lies down next to you, watching the sun set.

“I guess we kinda have to be friends, right?” You say after a brief pause of silence. “We got all the heavy stuff out of the way.”

“Sweet!” His phone buzzes. He pulls it out and types a quick text to someone. You presume his aunt, considering that’s the only family he has. Or one of his friends.

You can hear the smile in his voice and it makes a smile spread across your face too. For the first time you feel the wind whipping and realize you’re not angry. You call the heat back immediately, both to warm yourself and to protect yourself. What if—?

“Can I do a livestream?” Spider-man props himself up on his elbow and holds up his phone, which displays his Instagram page.

“Sure?”

Spider-man rolls up his suit to just under his nose and starts recording a video. You notice he lowers his voice slightly, probably to make himself seem more mature, and roll your eyes. “Hey guys! You’ll never believe who I’m with right now.”

Immediately comments start to roll in and people start sending emojis, mainly hearts.

You wave at the camera before unlocking your phone and following him on Instagram, now that you know it is actually him. A minute ago you’d gotten the notification he’d followed you, so you figured it was only fair.

Spider-man starts to do a run-down of his day, leaving out the man you’d killed. “Then I gave Inferno here a churro and we went shopping because we’re besties.” He nudges you with his arm. “No, but seriously, we had to burn her clothes. I can’t believe that dude threw her in the dumpster. It was disgusting.”

You wrinkle your nose at the camera, actually enjoying playing along. It does make you wonder exactly how much he says on his social media is a cover-up of some sinister stuff. He seems perfectly fine at lying about why you needed new clothes.

“Okay, now I’ll answer some questions...” Spider-man browses the flood of questions. “Okay, well, you guys know I can’t just tell you my name. No, I haven’t seen Iron Man recently. No, I’m not an Avenger. Still. And no, I do not have a girlfriend... Why is everyone asking if Inferno is—no, she’s not!” His voice cracks again and you glance curiously at him, tucking your wild hair behind your ear. The wind is whipping it everywhere.

“What?”

Spider-man just waves a hand at you. “I can’t tell you guys my schedule, either, because the bad guys will take advantage of it. You guys know that. Sheesh. Okay, well, since you guys are being jealous and immature, I’m going to log off now. Bye!”

“Let me guess,” you say sarcastically. “Mostly female fans, huh?”

“It’ll be such a shock when they all find out I’m gay,” Spider-man jokes. At least, you think he’s kidding. After a beat, he clarifies. “I’m not. By the way.”

You shrug and transfer your gaze back to the skyline. The sky is starting to turn orange and pink. “I wouldn’t really care if you were.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Hey, you know what isn’t fair?”

“What?”

“You obviously know who I am. Everyone does.” Not to sound conceited or anything, Y/N, good going... “But the only thing I know about you is that your parents and uncle are dead and you got your powers from a radioactive spider.”

So what, you’re curious about who’s under the mask. Sue you.

“My middle name is Benjamin,” Spidey suggests. “But I’m not going to tell you the rest of it.”

“So I should refer to you as Benjamin?” You don’t take your eyes off the horizon, not wanting to seem or sound pushy.

“Please don’t.” You giggle as he pretends to gag. “You can call me Spidey. I know Spider-man is a long title. As long as I get to call you Y/N instead of Inferno.”

“Sure thing... Benjamin.”

“I should not have told you that,” Spidey sighs. “Um, what else... I, uh, go to high school.”

You nod. “I should still be in high school.”

“You graduated high school when you were fifteen and went to MIT, same as your dad, for two years, same as your dad, and graduated college summa cum laude...”

“Also same as my dad.” You sigh.

“Sorry. I’m just... kind of a fan.”

A weird warm feeling spreads in your stomach, but it’s not Extremis-heat. “That’s okay.”

“And then you were arrested.” Spidey’s tone turns a little bit dark. “You turned eighteen in the Raft.”

“Happy birthday to me,” you sigh.

“It was shitty what happened to you.”

“I’m out now.”

“Still,” he persists. “It sucks I can’t make it better.”

You laugh. “What would you do? We only became friends maybe fifteen minutes ago.”

Spidey sighs. “I know. It just sucks, right? All these powers and we still can barely make a difference in the world.”

You sit up halfway, propped up by your arm. Desperate to make the subject lighter, you say, “Speaking of powers. I know you’re sticky and all. What else?”

“Fast and strong.” Spidey shrugs. “Not much else.”

“Wanna race?”

Inferno Taglist:

@paullrud @eridanuswave @loveissupernatural @moistpotatobear @oh-annaa

Peter Parker x Reader Taglist:

@iconicbabesss

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight

[itsanerdlife]

It’s Complicated 15/25

Pairing: Clint Barton x Fisk Niece!Reader

A/N: Reader is Wilson Fisk’s Niece. I’m tired of the same old villains so keep your eyes peeled for who just might be the one lurking in the dark.

Warning: This is very match and lighter fluid type of burn. Feels of abandonment. Talks of Psychopaths. Overprotective male. Lies. Secrets. Language. Kidnapping. Violence. I think that’s about it.

Sometimes in life there are just certain people worth breaking the rules for. No matter the hell that may rain down. Is it possible to fall in love with someone in just a matter of one conversation? To be utterly and completely obsessed with someone in a matter of weeks? But what if they aren’t who you think they are? What if one day the person you love, they just disappear? Learning to live again is a bitch. Specially just when you think you’re doing fine, he shows up on your doorstep. Wanting to explain his secrets. But now you’ve got your own secrets but do you really ever just get over that type of love? Can you really just move on and pretend it never happened? Even when you’re carrying around proof inside you?

Tag List Is Open

“Do you want to sit down?” Buck asks.

“No.” She swallows.

“This is who I am. This is my life. This is my family.” Clint shrugs.

“An Avenger.” She laughs, it sounds close to tears.

“Pretty much.” He sighs.

“Oh god.” She drops a hand from her hair, to her belly. “Fucking lord.” She scuffs, picking up the pacing once more. “I got knocked up by a fucking Avenger.” She mutters. The others smirk, Clint’s head tips, wondering where she’s going with this. “My kids going to have some mutant, freaky power.” She throws her hands up. 

“Wait,” he starts.

“Oh god he’s going to end up six feet tall, blonde and have wings or something.” She scuffs.

“Um.” Tony’s brow pulls down.

“Oh god he’s going to end up running around New York in tights.” She mutters.

“Whoa!” Several of them claim together.

“Why does everyone assume we run around in tights?” Sam scuffs.

“Because Steve did in the 40’s.” Nat snickers.

“I mean Peter’s suit looks like a giant onesie.” Buck smirks.

“Fuck off, metal man.” Peter scuffs.

“Off topic people.” Clint calls.

“Right.” Buck clears his throat.

“Does she not know?” Nat asks looking at him.

“Does this look like a face or belly that knows?!” Y/N throws her hands up.

“She has a point.” Wanda smirks.

“I don’t have a super power.” Clint smirks.

“What?” She blinks at him.

“Clint’s mortal, all human.” Peter chuckles.

“What the fuck are you doing as an Avenger than?” She snorts.

“Ohp!” Peter laughs.

“Someone finally asked.” Buck laughs.

“Shut up.” Clint looks over at them.

“Wait a second.” She turns looking at Sam and Peter.

“Peter is Spiderman and bedding my best friend. But what the fuck is Sam Wilson, who escorted me to my interview.” She folds her arms over her chest, glaring.

“Well, you see.” Sam chuckles, scratching the back of his. “Clint asked me too.” He throws Clint under the bus.

“Yeah, I got that impression. So what are you?” She nods.

“Falcon.” Sam smiles.

“Isn’t a Falcon just a fancier version of a Hawk?” She looks between them.

“I see why you knocked her up.” Nat grins.

“Yeah, that wasn’t on purpose.” Y/N winces.

“How did that happen?” Tony looks between them.

“Did you never have the sex talk, or do you mean how did he convince me to sleep with him?” Y/N blinks at him.

“The later.” The team replies.

“I have no idea.” She sighs.

“I thought you were on birth control?” Clint’s head tips.

“Ha. Funny story.” She nods.

“Funny Ha. Ha. Or funny not really funny?” Clint wonders.

“I know.” Peter grins.

“How the fuck?” She looks over at Peter.

“MJ told me.” Peter shrugs.

“Remind me when I’m done burying your body, to kill her next.” Y/N looks over at him.

“What do you know, Peter?” Clint watches him.

“Ah her sleep medication, canceled out her birth control. Turns out there are a lot of medications that actually do that.” He nods. Wanda’s eyes widen, as she stiffens up.

“Oh yeah and when you don’t know that, this happens.” Y/N waves a hand at her belly. “Talk about shock.” She snorts.

“I need to text Banner.” Wanda mumbles, turning she speed walks out of the room.

“What’s a Banner?” She looks over at him.

“The Dr. Jykle to Mr. Hyde.” Tony smirks.

“Oh okay.” She spoke slowly.

“So does Fury know you knocked up your assignment?” Steve asks.

“Assignment?” Y/N looks from Steve to him. Buck slaps a hand over his face. Clint winces, squeezing his eyes shut. “This baby, must be affecting my hearing.” She laughs. “He didn’t just call me your assignment. Like you were what tasked with watching me. Right?” She laughs, its panicked and unstable sounding.

“Bet, Barton wishes he was superhuman now.” Peter scratches the back of his neck.

“You were my assignment, in our mission to take down your uncle.” Clint nods.

“Take down my uncle. You put my uncle in prison?” She glances around.

“We did.” Buck nods.

“I don’t whether to say thank you or hug you.” She nods slowly.

“Not the reaction I was expecting.” Steve nods.

“They didn’t get along.” Sam explains.

“Understatement.” She snorts.

“Look I was just supposed to make sure your uncle didn’t use you in any way or pull you into his crimes.” Clint sighs.

“And doing that, meant getting me to fall in love with you? While sleeping with me, making me think this was an actual relationship.” She nods, hurt is written across her face.

“No, that wasn’t it.” He steps forward, she steps back.

“How do I get out of this place?” She swallows looking away from him. He sighs, feeling defeated.

“Y/N, right?” Nat steps forward.

“Yeah.” She nods, sniffing. A small smile on her lips suddenly, it’s sad. “You smell like blossoms.” She comments. Buck grins at her.

“Wow, that’s some intense smell.” Nat laughs.

“Pregnancy.” She nods.

“I’m Nat.” She puts out her hand. Y/N shakes it.

“You’re Clint’s sister, right?” She nods.

“I am.” Nat smiles. “And you’re the girl he fell in love with in one conversation. I’ve been dying to meet you.” Nat grins. “You said, boy, right? I’m getting a nephew?” She asks.

“Yeah, twenty one weeks along. I found out last week.” She nods, chewing her bottom lip.

“You don’t want to leave. It’s okay. Being angry, hurt, mad as hell. I’m mad too.” Nat nods, Y/N’s eyes snap up. 

“Why?” She asks.

“Because he kept you to himself, left you in the dark. I would have explained things, I would have taken his place had he told someone other than the other moron Bird Boy.” Nat smiles.

“Hey.” Sam scuffs.

“Is she really wrong?” Buck snorts. Sam mutters to himself.

“Do you like tea?” Nat asks, Y/N nods “Let’s have some and talk. There’s too many people standing around watching.” She nods.

“Find something else to do, people.” Steve nods, everyone shuffles off.

“I just didn’t know I was just an assignment.” Y/N sighs following Nat out of the living room.

“Sit down. Let her smooth it over.” Buck looks at Clint.

“Just an assignment you’re cute.” Nat laughs softly, filling mugs with hot water from the heated water taps, Tony had for coffee and tea instantly.

“Okay, I’m good. What did I miss?” Wanda joins them at the island.

“She thinks she’s just an assignment.” Nat smirks, pouring a third cup as well.

“Awe you’re cute. Funny and cute.” Wanda grins. “How did you end with our brother?” Wanda asks.

“The other sister?” Y/N asks looking over at him.

“Wanda.” He nods.

“The one you were on the phone with when you were late to our date?” She nods.

“Seriously?” Wanda gaps. “Why didn’t you just hang up?” Wanda asks.

“You were fighting with your boyfriend.” Y/N smirks, picking up her mug.

“Well it worked out right, we’re getting a nephew.” Wanda winces, grinning.

“Smooth Red.” Buck snorts.

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

Everything Peaches 2/6/19: @xmtd5 @mo320 @all1e23 @courtmr @avxgers @eliza-kat @izzy--lee @irepeldirt @dumblani @crist1216 @a--1--1--3 @alyssaj23 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @nishanki1 @bugalouie @kolakube9 @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sea040561 @sexyvixen7 @pcterpvrker @pigwidgexn @doctoranon @tomhardy41 @abschaffer2 @justrae9903 @bookluver01 @teller258316 @callie-bear15 @nickimarie94 @wandressfox @amandab-ftw @carostar2020 @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @itsagalaxystar @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @lucifersnipnips @queenkrissy11 @this-is-mycrisis @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @xrosegoldwolfx @paintballkid711 @isabelcrichards @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @chanelmadrid13 @mellxander1993 @killerbumblebee @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @sammysgirl1997 @itzmegaaaaaaan @booksbeforebois @optimistic-babes @childishhoebinoo @elizabethaellison @aspiringtranslator @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @samanthasmileys @nerdypinupcrystal @atlas-of-the-world @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @buckystolemyheart @booktvmoviefangirl @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @dumbbitchenergytm @abbypalmer14-blog @fanfictionjunkie1112 @meganlikesfandoms @awkwardfangirl2014 @supernaturaldean67 @xqueenofthecraziesx   @queenoftheunderdark @writingaworldofmyown @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @mustbeaweasleyginger @mcuwillbethedeathofme @sprinklesandsugarcubes @whothehellisbucky-1930 @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @wonderlandfandomkingdom @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @supernatural-strangerthings-1980

Marvel Tag List 2/6/19: @lumelgy   @dottirose   @jcc04220 @rockagurl @mizzzpink   @jade-taillia @coley0823 @widowsfics @bookluver01 @thelostallycat @shield-agent78 @dtftheavengers   @ilovetvshowsblog @capsheadquaters   @iamwarrenspeace @thefridgeismybestie @whenallsaidanddone @deanwinchestersrifle @fandomsstolemylife00   @daughterofthenight117 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect  

Clint ‘Destory Me, I’ll Thank You’ Barton: @ml7010 @coley0823 @yavanna80 @lakamaa12 @boltsgirl919 @feelmyroarrrr @what-a-fantasy @mrsseizetheday @honey-bee-holly @marvelfansworld @mybarnesmyhero   @the-real-mary-jane @dumbbitchenergytm @agentsinstorybrooke @stuckyandsciencebros @x-whyareyoureadingthis-x @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

It's Complicated: @amberkay284 @capandbuckylvr @optimistic-babes @jennmurawski13 @marvelfansworld @bradfordbantams @natromanoffsboys @thosesexytexasboys @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth

[clexa--warrior]

Hey, Have You Heard About This Coronavirus Thing? Crazy Shit, Right? (Ferret/Shower Cap)

History texts depicting this period will read like deranged Choose Your Adventure books written by sadists; no matter how frantically you flip backwards, you just can’t seem to find the page when you still had the option to vote for the really smart lady with the email server. Anyway, join me for a quick news round-up, it won’t take long, and when we’re done, I give you permission to run away to join a roving Thai monkey street gang.

(As always, find this post WITH nifty news links here: http://showercapblog.com/hey-have-you-heard-about-this-coronavirus-thing-crazy-shit-right/)

For those of you just waking up from a Rip Van Winkle nap, the United States is facing a massive, coast-to-coast, health crisis, whose tragic consequences have exploded exponentially because our Idiot Manchild President really believed, in that churning campground septic tank he calls a mind, that protecting his personal approval ratings by understating the problem was more important than the health and safety of the American public. I don’t know what you can call that but murder. On the one hand, it’s weird to say “wow, the President murdered a bunch Americans through boneheaded, unforgivably selfish, neglect,” but we already saw him get away with precisely that crime in Puerto Rico, so here we are.

Now, I have come to expect malice from the federal government under Hairplug Himmler, but sometimes their capacity for raw, senseless, evil still shocks me. This is my way of saying that, until they got fucking caught, the Department of, and Someone Should Slap the Word Out of Their Filthy Mouths, Justice attempted to remove CDC fliers offering potentially life-saving information regarding the coronavirus from...immigration courtrooms. My God. What a small but potent horror. Feels like the work of an ambitious intern in Stephen Miller’s office, doesn’t it? Trying to impress the boss? Just a sinister little trick, to spread a little more pain, a little more misery, a little more death in an already vulnerable, and whatta-coincidence-nonwhite, community? Fuck these awful, awful, people.

It seems President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster has been calling up leading Taliban terrorists on a secret U.S. kill-or-capture list, presumably to trade tips n’ tricks on how to undermine the USA at home and abroad. Now, negotiating with these murderous dirtbags is a big diplomacy no-no (and of course Donnie Dotard got rolled anyway) but in all honestly, if I had access to a secret kill list contact sheet, I’d probably give in to the temptation to make some prank calls. “Is your refrigerator running? Yeah? Are you sure it’s not a FLEET OF DRONES ABOVE YOU RIGHT NOW?”

For Jeff Sessions, the wages of sin turned out to be a faceful of Trump-branded fecal matter, as the Candycorn Skidmark, whose campaign Ol’ Beauregard embraced way back before fascism was cool in conservative circles, endorsed his opponent in the coming Alabama Senate runoff. How must it feel to have been the very fellow who flipped the switch on the Rube Goldberg/Mousetrap Board Game device that destroyed America, and to watch the machine work its destructive magic for years, only to realize it’s also got one special crotch punt in store for just you personally. I’d feel bad for Bilbo Bigot, if it he weren’t, y’know, one of the very worst people alive.

Alex Jones got arrested for drunk driving, and, upon his release, got right back to work selling...sigh...selling some bullshit toothpaste that he’s telling the rubes magically cures the coronavirus. Authorities are cracking down on Jones and fellow charlatan Jim Bakker over their odious snake oil peddling enterprises, but I don’t know what’s more shocking and disappointing to me, that there are such vile fuckwads in the world, who seek to profit off the fear of the misinformed during times of crisis, or that said fuckwads have so many blind, willing, disciples?

Speaking of fuckwads, Ron Johnson seems to have backed down, for now at any rate, from his quest to stage a show trial for Hunter Biden in the U.S Senate. And that’s awesome and all, but never forget how ready, how eager, RoJo has been, to corruptly manipulate the vast powers of the government for his democracy-stomping Turdlord’s political benefit. Ron is the kind of fellow you’d have found stamping documents outside trains bound for Dachau.

But yeah, I suppose the big story is still that coronavirus thing. Great choice on evolution’s part, the way symptoms don’t necessarily manifest right away, so we can spread that shit around without knowing we’re even infected. Anyway, I made sure to thoroughly disinfect tonight’s blog before posting, and medical professionals inform me that though the virus can linger on plastic and metal surfaces for as long as days, it cannot survive on a poo joke, so please rest easy, knowing you can safely consume this content in comfort. Unless you're reading it next to somebody with the coronavirus, but that's on you, kid.

The Shart Administration has actually slowed progress in this crucial fight, by classifying high-level coronavirus meetings, because they’re more worried about congressional oversight of their crimes n’ fuckups than they are about OUR LIVES, and y’know what, I do believe I’ll be voting Democrat this November.

And of course, many conservatives are more concerned with blaming the virus on the Chinese than preventing its spread; by gum, there’s no need to abandon yer principles, even when your ineptitude is getting countless folks sick and/or killed! “We may be a cabal of dangerously incompetent assclowns, but let none forget that we are also RACIST assclowns!”

With the stock market finally catching up to the rest of the world in noticing a pudding-brained twit had inexplicably been placed in charge of the most powerful nation in history, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot oozed into the Oval Office for a prime time speech, and if his goal was “fuck up the entire world as much as humanly possible in ten short minutes,” then he succeeded beyond his wildest imaginings.

It was a speech that completely failed to reassure, instead reminding the world that this drooling manbaby, this bathtub drain hair clog in an ill-fitting suit, truly is President of the Entire United Fucking States, and not only is he light years out of his element but he’s probably spending most of his time practicing his “the world is ending, you have to go out with me now” phone call to Salma Hayek rather than pursuing desperately-needed solutions.

Despite being on teleprompter, with the text of the fucking speech right fucking in front of him, Dorito Mussolini somehow managed to catastrophically misrepresent his own administration’s policies, dropping one more cartoon anvil on the stock market’s already-throughly-bludgeoned ballsack. This is, of course, on top of nonsensical non-solutions like banning travel from Europe, when the virus had already had weeks to spread throughout the country thanks to presidential bungling and neglect.

For 73 years, this cretin has somehow never encountered a problem he couldn’t lie, buy, or bully his way out of, but COVID-19 doesn’t care how much money your daddy gave you, little man. And may I say, on behalf of the thousands who are about to become sick, fuck you. Fuck you eternally with a rusty shovel, for daring to take on such an important job without the skills, temperament, or character to execute its duties. Asshole.

In contrast, Smilin’ Joe Biden gave a speech of his own; calm, collected, solemn, and filled with concrete steps to address the problems facing the nation. And America collectively went, “Oh right, it’s actually highly abnormal to have a gibbering, rectum-mouthed, dolt for a President, and we can actually have a decent, competent, one again! Soon!” It was like leadership porn. I got aroused.

Meanwhile, our already-hopelessly-overmatched Golf Cheat in Chief is multitasking, lobbing missiles at Iran-backed militias in Iraq. I’m just hoping the buttons on his desk are clearly labeled, y’know? Or at least that there’s somebody hanging around who can tackle him before he bombs Seattle and launches 500 respirators at Tehran.

So, um, in the midst of this once-in-generation shitstorm, I guess Sarah Palin dressed up in a bear suit to perform “Baby Got Back” on a reality television program. I’m not a religious person, honestly, but I’m increasingly open to the idea that there is a God, and that s/he’s been on a meth bender since mid-2016.

Social distancing is the zany new anti-dance craze sweeping the nation as we all do our damndest to not get sick and die! As a result, public gatherings are getting called off left and right. March Madness, MLB, NBA, PGA, SXSW, Broadway...personally, I don’t think I fully appreciated the scope of this crisis until I saw the XFL shut down their season. Like, are we even America anymore without one billionaire’s sad attempt to reboot his once-failed vanity project?

As sensible organizations all over the world made painful but obviously necessary sacrifices to, y’know, slow the spread of a deadly disease and save lives, naturally the Velveeta Vulgarian was among the last holdouts, canceling his precious hate rallies only grudgingly, because the safety of even his own fervent base is secondary to the sugar rush of their rageful cheers, filling, if only for a moment, that empty space within him where most people have a soul.

Now more than ever, I am brimming over with gratitude that we took the House back in 2018. Thank god there’s a little leadership, a little accountability, a little common frickin’ sense in Washington now. And thank god for Katie Porter, one of the standouts in a freshman class packed with absolute ass-kickers, cornering the CDC chief into exercising his legal authority to make coronavirus testing free for every American. Imagine if Kevin McCarthy were running the House right now. He’d be fleeing from reporters, in mismatched loafers, trying to sell the public on a bill bailing out nothing but Trump University and Marm-a-Lago.

Well, the Emperor of Hemorrhoids finally buckled and declared (acknowledged) a state of emergency over the coronavirus, which is admittedly a pleasant change from his previous “do everything I possibly can to help the fucker spread” position. We’re still woefully behind, and god only knows how deeply the virus has penetrated while the doddering old bastard diddled and dawdled, but the good news is, the President of the United States finally moved his bloated ass out of the road so we can get to work cleaning up his mess, which is, I suppose, as close to an act of kindness as he’s come in his entire misspent, treacherous, life.

In the middle of today’s press conference, Vice President Mike Pants paused to give Boss Turdworm a rhetorical handjob seemingly designed to last through an entire 14-day quarantine. Jeeeeesus. Mikey Hairshirt was a man once. Not much of one, to be certain, but at least he didn’t have to worry about the possibility of bored schoolchildren pouring salt on him, which would of course prove swiftly fatal in his current state.

A reporter asked Government Cheese Goebbels, “Hey, if you’re not too busy fellating yourself over fucking up slightly less than you’ve been fucking up for weeks, why the fuck did you close down the pandemic office, you nation-wrecking clod?” and he whinged that the question was “nasty,” before reiterating his refusal to take responsibility for the things that are, objectively, his fault. I truly do not understand how this trembling coward’s approval rating isn’t 0%

So Nancy Pelosi spent the week trying to hammer out an emergency bill with Steve Mnuchin, but Republicans naturally balked at many necessary measures. It’s a tricky spot for the GOP; they can’t risk the mass-extermination of the underpaid labor/consumer force that keeps their donor class filthy rich, but doing anything to improve working folks’ lives is just instinctually anathematic to them. But at the time of posting, it does appear as though a deal has been reached, let’s hope no spray-tanned morons fuck it up, right?

In conclusion, I am sick of typing the word “coronavirus,” and you are sick of reading it, so let’s let’s all retreat to our quarantines for the weekend, okay? Enjoy the solitude! Read that novel you bought back in college! Watch that 425-minute Russian film set in a fish cannery! Hey, you can even peruse the archives at showercapblog.com if you feel like reliving just how the fuck it all came to this! Anyway, if you don’t hear from me for a bit, fear not, I’m turning production of this blog over to Jared Kushner, I’m sure he’ll figure it out.

[mystery-deer]

Kevin faces with a homophobic colleague, which is always trying to insult him and sometimes even follows him in the university, saying bad things. Kevin 's very upset and doesn't want to tell Holt about it, because he thinks it'll bother him, since he had much more homophobes in his life and career.

“Kevin, are you busy?” The break room was empty and Kevin had been enjoying a cup of tea and scouring the news for something interesting. He looked up and suppressed a sigh as Sandra advanced towards him. Instead he just raised an eyebrow.

“No.” She smiled. 

“Ooh, so sassy! You know-”

“Did you need me for something?” He interrupted before she could go on what would be a no-doubt infuriating one-sided conversation about how much she loved ‘the gays’ before trying to set him up with some random man she met once a few months ago. Telling her about his boyfriend only led to her blinking as if startled and then saying in a faux-whisper “Oh but…like, I heard that gays- I mean, don’t you all do things on the side anyway?” Needless to say he wasn’t in the mood today.

“Oops, silly me always forgetting! Good thing I have you right?” Kevin stayed silent, unwaveringly holding her gaze and taking a sip of his tea. She looked nervous for a moment and he smiled thinly. “..Right. Anyway um, Cooper wants to see you.” Oh. 

Cooper was an ever-present thorn in Kevin’s side and had been ever since he’d come out at work. Every interaction he’d had with the man had been unpleasant even before he’d known he was gay. The very first time the two met Cooper had sneered after shaking Kevin’s hand hard enough to be purposeful and said he had a weak handshake. “Limp wrist.” He added, just to rub his not at all subtle comment in Kevin’s face.

If Cooper wanted to see him it was surely to harass him in some way.

“Do you know why?” Sandra, excited to be engaged again, broke out into a smile.

“Yeah, he wants to talk about Steinbeck’s retirement party or something.” Now the matter was even more confusing. Kevin hadn’t ever spoken to the elderly professor, what could he add to a party dedicated for him?

He realized after stepping into the room that Sandra lead him to. The room was full of female faculty, there wasn’t a single other man in sight other than Cooper, who was making a beeline over to them. 

“Hey Sandra, glad you could make it! You’re always the life of a party so I know I had to invite you.” Sandra laughed as she was handed a list of some sort. “Can you do me a favor and make sure we’ve got everything there? And hey- make sure you don’t make this party TOO fun you hear me? Don’t wanna give the old man a heart attack!” They laughed together again as Sandra walked away, reading over whatever Cooper had given her. Newly alone, Kevin felt all of the man’s attention shift to him. 

“So, Kev!”

“No one calls me Kev. Do not call me that.” Cooper raised his hands in a surrender motion and smiled, Kevin felt ill. 

“Yeesh fine, God you’re always so serious. I thought gays were supposed to all-” he made his voice higher and snapped. “Fun!” Kevin hated how his hands always shook when he was angry, he balled them into fists at his side and looked away subtly, staring at the man’s nose. His eyes never matched his voice when he spoke to Kevin. “Lighten up. That’s your real problem-”

“Why am I here, Cooper? Why did you ask for me.” He could feel Cooper’s eyes narrowing, angry with Kevin’s refusal to play along. “Do you just like wasting my time?” There was a beat of silence before Cooper whirled around and raised the red plastic cup he was holding in the air. 

“I invited you because I felt bad for you Kev.” He cooed with faux-concern. “You’re always alone you know?” Kevin remembered the first week after coming out, his acquaintances dwindling down to nothing as they suddenly ate at different times or had a cold they didn’t want him to catch or were too busy to eat right then. Some of the nastier ones just snorted derisively and said they hoped he rotted. 

“So I thought I’d invite you to this little shindig, it’ll be fun! Party planning, drinking, hanging out with the gals.” The women all cheered and underneath it all Cooper leaned back and whispered harshly into Kevin’s ear. “You’re practically one of ‘em anyway you f-”

Kevin left the room without looking back, nearly tripping over himself to make it down the stairs and to the parking lot.

As he walked he heard footsteps coming up behind him, he tried to walk faster but the person only broke out into a run. “Kevin, wait!” He didn’t but Sandra caught up to him anyway. She placed a hand on his wrist and he tore it away. “God! You’re such a fucking Diva Kevin!” He continued walking. “I’m trying to be your friend and so is Cooper but you overreact to every little thing! I mean- Cooper can be a bit of a jerk sometimes but he’s trying and he means well-” Kevin spun around and faced her so suddenly that she stumbled backwards, looking shocked.

“I am so sick and tired of people who mean well.” He hissed, planting his feet. Anger bubbled up in him and his head felt thick with it, heavy with steam. “I am tired of Cooper, I am tired of you, I am tired of the world thinking that I am just their plaything, a blank canvas that you can stick your stereotypes and insults and prejudices onto and I will just say nothing and take it.” Sandra took another step back, opened her mouth as if in absolute disbelief. Then she morphed into anger, spinning around and stomping back towards the college. 

“I was trying to be nice to you.” she spat. “But whatever. Hope you like being alone.” Kevin waited until she was gone to rush to his car and wait in the front seat for his body to be still enough to drive.

During dinner he didn’t taste the soup that Raymond had made and could barely bring himself to participate in the conversation. He had no appetite, he kept replaying the earlier confrontations over and over in his mind. He knew Raymond had noticed his behaviour but assumed he just thought he was tired since nothing had been said. He tuned back into the conversation at an awful time. 

“-and then they just laughed at the poor woman and said she shouldn’t have provoked the beating. She was holding hands with her partner for the lo-” Kevin practically dropped his spoon into the half-empty bowl, feeling his emotions begin to overtake him once again.

“I can’t.” Raymond paused, leaning his head forward a bit. 

“Kevin?” A pit formed in his stomach. He was being irrational, he was more than making a scene. He felt out of control.

“I can’t…do this.I can’t hear about- it’s all.” He hated this, he hated when he got like this. “Please excuse me.” 

Quickly rushing from the table, Kevin made his way to their bedroom and fell listlessly onto the bed. He heard Raymond calling after him, unsure of whether or not to follow. Kevin stared vacantly, enjoying the cool darkness.

After a moment he called out again. “Kevin?” He couldn’t answer, he wanted to but he felt like someone was clenching a fist around his lungs. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he could only breath and wait. 

He didn’t know how much time went by before he heard the door open and Raymond appeared in his field of view. “Is something troubling you? Normally you would not wear your outside clothes in our bed as it reduces the risk of dirt and bacteria contaminating the place in which we sleep.” 

Kevin nodded after great difficulty, face unmoving. Raymond was concerned. Kevin was usually much more expressive than this and his entry into their apartment without a greeting was highly unusual. “Do you wish to talk about it?” Kevin closed his eyes and nodded again, Raymond placed a hand on his shoulder. “Is it alright if I touch you?” nod. “Can you not speak?” nod. “Is that a yes, meaning that it is true you cannot speak?” nod. “Is it a medical problem?” shake. “Do you want to be left alone?” shake. “Alright, I am going to sit down next to you.”

  For half an hour Raymond sat down beside his boyfriend and thought idly about his day, what needed to get done before he fell asleep, what paperwork needed to be handed in, that new restaurant that opened up down the street that served that dish that Debra liked. Kevin moved and Raymond’s train of thought was derailed, looking over to check on him. 

“How do you do it?” 

“Do what?”

“Deal with…the harassment, the cruelty, everyday.” Raymond felt cold, he set his jaw.

“Are you being harassed?” Kevin recalled just last week Raymond telling him about his colleagues smashing his computer and continually ‘forgetting’ to have it fixed. Remembered them shoving newspaper articles about hate crimes in the area into his locker. Compared to that what he was dealing with was nothing. This only worsened his anxiety, he was getting worked up over nothing. 

“No.” He intoned, sitting up. “I am fine.”

“Kevin.”

“I said I am fine, can we drop it?” Raymond hesitated a moment before taking his husband’s hand.

“No. If you are being harassed I want to hear about it. I tell you about such incidents why should it not be the other way around?” 

“I am…overreacting.” Kevin said, heart heavy. “I overreact to small things sometimes.” He pulled his hand out of Raymond’s gentle grip to press it together with his other hand. The pressure did little to calm him.

“They will tell you that.” Kevin twitched. “They will tell you that you are overreacting, being emotional, sensitive, exaggerating. It is all untrue, it is all a tactic to keep you quiet.” He leaned out of Kevin’s space but kept his eyes on the man he loved. “You will never have to be quiet with me. Do you want me to leave?”

Kevin thought about this. He thought about Raymond, and how lovely he was, the most wonderful and perfect man he’d ever met. He thought about how safe he felt, the instant relief that had come with being home, with being with him. 

“No, please stay.” He leaned closer until they were just barely touching. It felt right. “I have something to tell you.”