#the face-down-in-a-pool-of-his-own-tears drawing reflected me giving up on said drawing...but now I quite like it

[abandonedpie]

Emotional Kara 🥺 Too many feelings to contain. Literally shaking and crying rn

Also his bros trying to comfort him with varying degrees of success

[tfwlawyers]

Not me singlehandedly going through your entire parent trap au I’m so invested even though like half of the posts are from 2015 💀

THESE THINGS HAPPEN I get such a kick out of knowing this au is still making its rounds though 😭😭

and yk what just because I know I’m never going to do anything else with this, have a 3.5k attempted scramble of fic for this au I tried writing back also in 2015. i was even less of a writer back then than I am now so it’s absolutely terrible but have at thee

“Oh, wait...” Trucy winced and tapped her earring. Apollo’s eyes widened in realization. “Looks like we have one more thing to do tonight - it’ll be super quick, I promise.”

“Oh no,” Apollo said, visibly paling, “there’s no way you’re doing that to me-”

“Then cutting my hair was a total waste,” Trucy huffed, tugging at a newly shorn lock, “because there’s no way I can go to camp with pierced ears and come home without. Come on, Polly, where’s your sense of adventure? It’s just one little pinch!”

“Just one?” he asked hesitantly, eyes now trained on the sharp needle laying on the table.

Trucy paused. “Well... I guess it’s technically two. I really only wear the one earring, but both my ears are pierced.”

Apollo sighed. “Great.”

“Nah, I got this,” Trucy said, grinning toothily. “I went with Aunt Maya when she wanted to get hers pierced, even though she chickened out at the last second.” She picked up the needle and a book of matches from the table, eyes glinting. “I had to get mine repierced because of infection the first time too. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

-

“Put that apple slice back,” Apollo said, narrowing his eyes at the piece of fruit in Trucy’s hands. “They’re acidic, I don’t need that anywhere near me and oh God you’re really going to shove a piece of metal into my ear, aren’t you-”

-

“You sure I look okay?” he asked, patting down the skirt. He squinted down at the stark white boots he’d thankfully fit into. “I’m terrified to walk in these, they look like death traps -”

“Which is why we’re practicing,” Trucy said primly, wiping her hands on a gel-stained rag. She still didn’t quite have a grasp on the correct ratio of product to actual hair, but she was much better than when they had started five weeks ago. “Now, walk towards me.”

-

“One last thing, I guess,” Apollo said, removing his bracelet and handing it to Trucy, watching as she carefully slid it on. He rubbed his now bare wrist absentmindedly, feeling strangely naked without it.

“So... this is really it. We’re really doing this.”

“We’re really doing this,” Trucy confirmed, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. For all her apparent enthusiasm, she looked as nervous as he felt. The studs in her ears reflected the morning light.

“Give papa a hug for me,” he said, smiling weakly.

“Give daddy one for me too,” she said.

They hesitated a moment more before Trucy threw her arms around her brother’s shoulders. Apollo’s arms immediately snaked around her waist, drawing her in tight. They clung to each other, silently willing and praying this was somehow going to all work out - that they wouldn’t just to get to meet their other parent, that they wouldn’t only get a few short weeks with the other father they hadn’t even known had existed, but that they could find some way to reconcile the two, that they wouldn’t have to lose anyone across the wide expanse of the Atlantic ever again.

-

“You’ve had your ears pierced,” he said almost absently, cradling her head between his hands and gently turning her neck back and forth to better view the studs. He clicked his tongue. Trucy felt her heart sink.

“Do you... hate them?” she asked tentatively.

Edgeworth’s eyes snapped to hers. They were the same soft gray color as the paint Daddy always kept too much of around the house. “On the contrary - I find they suit you incredibly well. Please tell me you didn’t get an infection.”

Her face split into a wide smile.

-

Apollo thumbed through a stack of canvases that had been shoved into a corner. There was a thin layer of dust of them; if he had to guess, he’d say they hadn’t been disturbed for at least three months - not a particularly long stretch of time, all things considered. They were clearly less polished works, lacking the technical skill and attention to detail that made Phoenix Wright a name to be reckoned with in the art community, but they were still beautiful in their own way. Paintings of vineyards and what looked like London, towering skyscrapers and calm seas and -

His father.

Apollo blinked.

The portrait of Miles Edgeworth drawn in rich oils did not blink back. Nor did the three that followed.

-

“There were a lot of paintings of the same person in daddy’s works. Some guy with grey hair,” Apollo said, struggling for nonchalance.

Maya’s grip on the mixing bowl faltered. “Is that so,” she said carefully.

“Was he one of daddy’s favorite models or something he just never told me about?”

Maya pursed her lips and continued stirring with a newfound vigor. “You could say that.”

-

“You’re not Apollo?” he asked, voice thick. “You’re Trucy?”

She smiled weakly. “That would be correct.” One strand of hair fell lank across her forehead - how did I not notice, Apollo hasn’t used nearly that much gel in years - and he absentmindedly tucked it behind her ear. He felt her press into the warmth of his hand, as if she were afraid he might suddenly vanish across the Atlantic again.

“I hope you don’t - I hope you don’t hate me,” she said, voice beginning to waver, “it’s just that Polly and I met at the camp and the whole thing sort of just spilled out. I’ve wanted to see you for so long, and Polly felt exactly the same way about Daddy, so we sort of just - just switched lives and hoped it wouldn’t take you so soon to notice. I really hope you don’t hate me, because I’ve wanted to meet you basically my whole life and I hope that maybe one day you can love me for me and not Polly and -” (this is ALL from movie tho so mix this up)

Edgeworth’s left hand came to cradle the rest of Trucy’s face, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Oh, my dear,” he said, cautiously tugging her forward. She came willingly, all but sprawling across his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin and wrapping her arms around his middle. “I’ve loved you since the day you came to me,” he whispered into her hair, blinking away the beginnings of tears he felt gathering at the corner of his eyes. He felt her tighten her hold and he did the same.

-

He poured himself a thumbnail of scotch, perfectly content to pretend he didn’t have tickets to a plane back to a state he had vowed never to set foot in again departing in less than four hours. “He was rather handsome,” he found himself admitting, absentmindedly swirling the glass and taking a sip. He paused, staring at nothing and mumbling to himself, “...had the most crooked smile. Always made me weak at the knees.”

“What was that, sir?”

Edgeworth snapped his attention back to the other man; he’d nearly forgotten Gumshoe was even in the room. “Nothing, nothing, never mind, have you seen the tickets?”

Gumshoe shrugged. That was Trucy’s cue.

“Almost ready, papa?” she asked, stepping smoothly into the room from her hiding place behind the thick wooden door. Edgeworth looked just as wild-eyed as she’d been hoping.

“Yes, of course, I’m almost finished packing -”

She didn’t even have to look at his still mostly bare suitcase to know he was lying.

“ -and you did tell your father we were coming, didn’t you?” he finished, placing his drink on a nearby dresser and running his fingers shakily through his hair.

“Absolutely,” Trucy promised.

“Ah,” Edgeworth said, fiddling with his waistcoat buttons. They looked like they’d been polished recently.

“Liar,” Gumshoe leaned down to whisper. She shushed him.

-

“Might I suggest we continue this little gathering inside,” Maya said, already beginning to shepherd the twins - the twins, she was going to need another vacation just to process the fact that they were together again - into the room. She twisted back around to look at Edgeworth, still shoving Apollo (that was Apollo, right?) forward. “Hi,” she began again, offering a free hand, “you probably don’t remember me -”

“Maya!” he interrupted, smiling warmly and bending to kiss her chastely on the cheek. His breath was sour with vodka and his glasses clunked awkwardly against her face. As he turned and stepped fully into the room, Maya’s cheeks(rp) began to hurt from smiling so fiercely.

“I knew I always liked him,” she said to no one as she closed the door.

-

This was ridiculous. This resort was full of entirely too many people who favored the same sort of eccentric clothing that man had even fourteen years ago, a disproportionate amount of them with the same slate grey hair. He almost would have written that (awkward*) expression seen from across Dahlia’s shoulder/a hotel lobby as a figment of his overtaxed imagination had it not been so much realer than the stacks of canvases in his studio. Which meant Miles was here, but he’d swept the first level of the hotel twice already after begging Dahlia to take to her room for a bit, the pool area was as depressingly empty as the inside was, and -

There he was.

Across the pool, descending the steps carefully from the inside lounge area and walking on the balls of his feet like he always did when he’d had a bit too much to drink (and why did he still remember that) was, without a doubt, Miles Edgeworth.

Phoenix suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

Edgeworth was halfway down the opposite path before Phoenix realized he should probably do something.

“Excuse me,” he said, shouldering his way through the crowd. It would be rude and more than a little intrusive to just call out his ex-husband’s name in the middle of a resort, right? Perhaps not as rude as nearly shoving the poor bellboy into the shrubbery, but, well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

He didn’t immediately notice the odd assortment of friends and family and a lumbering man in striped green swimming trunks perched on pool chairs as he stepped past, but they certainly noticed him.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Trucy asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said vaguely, refusing to take his eyes off Edgeworth. He was abruptly terrified he might vanish again if he did.

He

“Nick, watch out -”

“Hey, pal -”

“Daddy -”

With that, Phoenix collided into a passing service boy, arms pinwheeling wildly as he fell directly into the pool behind him.

-

“Hello Miles,” he said, smiling sheepishly and wringing out his tie. He fought the urge to rub the back of his neck and settled for clenching his hands into tight fists instead. “Or do you people call you Edgeworth now?”

“Miles is - Miles is fine,” Edgeworth said weakly, trying to look anywhere but Phoenix, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation they should be having for the first time after fifteen years. “My father still calls me Miles.”

-

Something warm coiled in his chest. It felt infinitely more dangerous than it had fifteen years ago.

“You always had a smart mouth,” he murmured, rubbing a swathe of cleaning ointment along the cut on Phoenix’s forehead. Phoenix hissed.

“So glad you remembered,” he bit through gritted teeth.

“Hush.”

Phoenix hmmed but stayed silent for a few more seconds, staring at Edgeworth as he dug back into the first aid kit. Edgeworth tried not to flush under the scrutiny.

-

Phoenix held his wrist in a loose grip. He should have felt clammy from the pool and the rapidly descending night, but he blazed oddly hot against Edgeworth’s skin.

“Miles, I-”

“Feenie? Who is this?”

“Dollie!” Phoenix said, shooting upright and wincing at the sudden dizziness.

-

Edgeworth’s burgundy coat was hung carefully over his arm, too thick for the warm California night. The buttons on his waistcoat glinted from a nearby streetlamp’s glow.

Phoenix swallowed.

-

“Do you have any idea where they’re taking us?” Edgeworth asked, leaning in slightly. Phoenix’s (nose twitched? something about scent memory?) and he refused to let himself acknowledge that Miles’s choice of aftershave hadn’t changed since the day they’d met. He abruptly remembered the taste of cheap wine and overly sweet cake on his tongue, felt the ghost weight of a ring fifteen years gone.

He hastily turned away.

“No idea.”

-

“Grandfather chipped in a bit -”

“Apollo,” Edgeworth warned.

“Alright, so Grandfather chipped in a lot, whatever, we’re poor teenagers, the point is,” he said, emphasizing the final word by pulling the ship’s impressive doors open with a firm tug, “it’s ours for the night.”

Phoenix whistled shrilly in appreciation, instinctively reaching out to ruffle Apollo’s hair. It was a testament to how important the night was that Apollo merely batted Phoenix’s hand away. “Seriously, dad,” he mumbled. His scowl was clearly forced, however; he felt oddly warm that he was able to finally use that word at all.

-

“Subtle,” Phoenix remarked.

“Mm,” Edgeworth agreed. “I don’t suppose we should let their efforts, however misguided they may be, go to waste, should we?”

“You just want to know who else they roped into this ridiculous scheme of theirs.”

“Oh, because you don’t.”

“I,” Phoenix said, moving to the chilled champagne propped by the windowsill and popping its cork, “have a perfectly healthy level of curiosity. It does not involve wondering what’s going on in my kid’s head. Trucy is a teenager. That’s terrifying.” He carefully poured the sparkling drink into two glasses and offered one to Edgeworth.

“I find that somewhat difficult to believe,” Edgeworth said, striding forward and taking the  proffered glass. He made certain their fingers did not brush. “Thank you.”

-

They waited until she had hastily bowed out of the room before turning their focus back to each other. “Miles, that’s why we came up with this arrangement in the first place,” Phoenix continued, nonplussed.

“Really?” Edgeworth carefully picked up his glass flute, trying to ignore the tremor he felt running through his hands. “I thought it was because we’d agreed to never see each other again.”

Phoenix’s heart clenched. “Not ‘we’, Miles,” he said slowly, spreading his hands on the tablecloth and feeling like if he missed a step here, he would risk something he couldn’t afford to lose again.

Edgeworth took a shaky draw of wine. “You know,” he said slowly, seemingly forcing himself to meet Phoenix’s eyes, “that part is unclear to me as well.”

“Oh, you don’t remember the day you packed?” Phoenix asked.

“No, I remember that day perfectly. Did I hurt you when I threw that - oh God, what was it -”

“It was Kamisar’s Modern Criminal Procedure. It left a dent in the wall from where it rebounded off my head.”

“Oh,” Edgeworth said, at least having the grace to look properly abashed. “Right. Sorry.”

Phoenix shrugged. “It’s not like I was making it that easy on you.

-

And....” Edgeworth trailed off, twisting a napkin between his fingers. “You didn’t chase after me.”

Phoenix felt (something) shift. “I didn’t know that you wanted me to.”

-

“A toast to -”

“Our children,” Edgeworth cut in. He ignored the tightening in his chest at the our.

“Our children,” Phoenix repeated slowly, as if the words didn’t quite match with what his mouth had wanted to say.

“We both got where we actually wanted to go.”

Phoenix’s eyes never wavered from his. “We did,” he said, voice strange.

They toasted again and finished their meal in silence.

-

“Apollo, what are you doing in those clothes? We’ve got a plane to catch.”

“We’re getting totally ripped off,” maybe-Trucy said. “Daddy said we’d get our camping trip and we want to go.”

“Wait, hang on,” Phoenix interrupted, “what camping trip?”

“The one Aunt Maya and I make you take us on every year before school starts,” almost-definitely-Trucy said. Phoenix began to lift his finger in triumph, sure he’d found his kid -

“ -the one behind the house that runs all the way up to Gourd Lake, remember when you fell in that one year,” I’m-not-too-sure-if-this-one-is-still-in-fact-Apollo finished.

Phoenix’s arm fell listlessly to his side. Edgeworth snorted.

Phoenix shot Edgeworth a look. Thanks for helping, one of these is yours. “This is entirely unfunny, you’re going to make your father miss his flight,” he said, shifting his attention back to the twins. Honestly, he was an Ivy University graduate and Miles was a world renowned defense attorney, how were they being duped by their own kids -

“Apollo -” Edgeworth began.

“Yes?” they both said in unison.

Edgeworth groaned. “They get this from you, I’m sure,” he said.

“It’s not my fault you’ve apparently been raising a devilishly deceptive teenager,” Phoenix quipped back, never taking his eyes off the twins. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine pound at the base of his neck. “He’s probably rubbed off on Trucy.”

The twins grinned.

Phoenix rubbed a hand over his eyes before stooping to their height once again. He stared hard at each of them, looking back and forth between their faces. “This one’s Trucy,” he said slowly, pointing a finger to the sibling in orange. “I’m positive.”

“You know, I hope you’re right, Daddy. You wouldn’t want to send the wrong kid all the way back to Germany - ”

“ - would you?”

How was any of this fair?

“Here’s our proposition. We go back to Daddy’s house, pack our stuff, and the four of us leave on the camping trip.”

“The four of us?” Edgeworth interjected. They ignored him.

“And when you bring us back,” maybe-Trucy-maybe-Apollo continued, “we’ll tell you who’s Trucy and who’s Apollo.”

“Or,” Edgeworth said, carefully stepping around and in front of Phoenix and crossing his arms firmly across his chest, tapping his finger rhythmically against his arm, “new plan. I take one of you back to Germany with me whether you like it or not.”

Two identical sets of eyes twinkled back at him.

(He felt a migraine beginning to pound in his left temple.)

-

“You can cook now?” Edgeworth asked.

“Oh yeah,” Phoenix said. “I can make pasta. And pasta. Probably more pasta, if you ask really nicely.”

“Hm,” Edgeworth said, eyebrows scrunched in mock thought, “pasta sounds good.”

Phoenix grinned, bumping Edgeworth’s shoulder. He was warm through the cotton. “Pasta it is.”

-

Edgeworth looked across the seat at Apollo. His glassy eyes reflected the flickering street lamps as the taxi sped down the empty street.

“Apollo, I -” he began, deflating as Apollo turned further away. It’s entirely justified, he thought despondently. I’d hate myself as well.

-

“Grandfather?” Apollo called, shrugging out of his heavy jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. The house was silent.

“I’ll check the study,” Edgeworth said, tugging his jabot loose. Apollo nodded and headed towards the direction of the kitchen, toeing off his shoes on the way. Pushing open the wide doors that led to the study, Edgeworth saw someone reading a paper at the desk. He cocked his hip against the door and crossed his arms. “Hello, father. We’re back.”

The newspaper lowered. It wasn’t Gregory.

“Hiya, papa,” Trucy said. The corners of her mouth were quirked despite her obvious attempts to reign in her expression. “Did you know the Concord gets you here in half the time?”

Edgeworth slipped against the doorframe. He felt the knob dig into his hip. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”

(Edgeworth was acutely aware of the doorknob digging into his hip from when he pressed against it. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”)

Apollo walked into the room, drawn to the sound of voices. When he saw Trucy his face split into a blinding grin. “What are you doing here?”

Trucy neatly folded the newspaper on the desk and clasped her hands in front of her. “It took us about thirty seconds after you left that we decided we didn’t want to lose you two again,” she said, eyes crinkling.

Edgeworth swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “We?” he said, voice cracking.

“We,” a new voice agreed.

From the corner of his eye, Edgeworth noted Trucy moving to stand by the far wall of the study, giving the vaguest attempt of privacy. It didn’t matter. His eyes were trained on Phoenix, tracking his movement as he crossed the room.

-

Phoenix peppered his face in light kisses, smiling into the curve of his throat and pressing his lips to the thrumming heartbeat beneath his skin.

They eventually pulled back, desperate for air. Phoenix’s eyes crinkled - crow’s feet, Edgeworth thought wildly through his haze, he’s got crow’s feet now, I haven’t seen him this close up since - and he rested his forehead against Edgeworth’s.

“God, I’m never letting you go again,” he whispered, hands snaking around the other man’s back to pull him even closer.

-

“You want to toast with this? I’d have thought you might want to upgrade to something with a little more class.”

Phoenix smiled sloppily, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. “You’re the only one I said I’d drink it with, remember?”

Edgeworth smiled back. He took the proffered bottle warmed by the weather and tugged his husband into a proper kiss, matching rings glinting in the dying sunlight.

[heavenlyhaechan]

Make a Wish

Pairing: Renjun x Gn!Reader 

Genre: established relationship au, fluff, 

Word Count: 1.6k 

Warnings: n/a 

Rating: PG 

Note: happy birthday Renjun!!! (no this has nothing to do with the song) 

Angel Numbers. 

“Make a wish,” Renjun whispered to you as the numbers on his digital clock switched from 11:10 to 11:11 pm. You laid next to him in his bed, drifting between dreaming and consciousness. 

“I wish for you to let me sleep,” you mumbled, your dry throat making you sound as raspy as a snake’s hiss. 

“If you say it out loud, it won’t come true,” he giggled. His words were met with silence, and so he gave up trying to get you to engage, rolling onto his back to stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars you’d put on his ceiling last summer instead. 

“I’d love to go to outer space,” he mused out loud as he let his eyes go out of focus. The neon stars were blobs now, more like jellyfish than cosmic balls of fire. Although he supposed stars looked a lot more like this in reality. 

“You’d leave me just like that?” you teased, finally giving in to his refusal to let you sleep. 

“No, of course not silly, you’d have to come with me,” he said, poking your cheek. 

“I don’t know if I’m up for all the, ya know, risking my life that would take.” 

“It’s not that dangerous,” he said, walking his fingers up your arm. “And plus, you’d have me to protect you.” 

“Oh yeah, shoulder gangster Renjun,” you sang goofily, giggling as you pictured his indignant expression from behind your closed eyelids. 

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Go to sleep.” 

Dandelions Seeds. 

Spring was just beginning to arrive, and yet flowers were already blooming everywhere you looked. Lilacs, tulips, roses, daisies, even the dandelions were beautiful. 

You lay in the park making daisy chains for you and Renjun. He sat next to you, sketchbook on his lap and pencils strewn about all around him. 

“Let me draw you,” he said after a while. 

“What? No.” 

“Why not?” he asked, looking at you affrontingly. 

“Cause I-” you searched for a concrete reason but failed to find one. “I don’t know.” 

“I’ll buy you a cookie,” he bargained. 

You rolled your eyes, tempted to tell him that you weren’t a child and that it wouldn’t be that easy to convince you, but his puppy dog eyes were too hard to resist. 

“Make it two,” you resolved, turning back to your daisy chain. 

“Deal.” 

And so he drew you as you weaved daisy chains in the spring sun. Eventually, once you had finished, you stretched your arms up over your head, feeling your back crack satisfactorily. Then you got up and placed one of the daisy chains on Renjun’s head, making him look quite like a prince. You refrained from telling him as much, however, knowing how he would tease you if he could hear your innermost thoughts. 

He looked up from his sketchbook as your shadow fell over him, smiling up at you enchantingly. “You ready to go?” he asked. 

You nodded in reply, shooing him off the blanket so you could fold it neatly and lift it in your arms. As you did so, he picked an already seed-covered dandelion and held it out to you. 

“Make a wish,” he said. 

You took it from him and blew hard, but not hard enough to release the seeds grip. Renjun laughed loudly at your dilemma, jumping away just in time to avoid your slap on his arm.  

“Try again,” he told you kindly, his tone contradicting his still gleaming smile. 

You did as he said, this time managing to blow dandelion seeds straight into his face. 

“Hey!” he sputtered, waving his hands in front of his face. “I’m gonna get you for that,” he said once he’d recovered. With a yell, he grabbed you in his arms and, with a strength you didn’t know he had, spun you around in circles on the green grass. 

You gasped with laughter, your arms holding onto him for dear life. After he had tired himself out he set you down and bent over with laughter of his own. This renewed your own bout of hilarity and for some time the two of you stood there hopelessly wiping tears from your eyes. 

Once you had both regained your breath, Renjun straightened up, hooked an arm around your shoulders, and reminded you of his earlier promise of cookies. “What kind do you want?” he asked. 

“Chocolate chip.” 

“Fine, two chocolate chip cookies coming right up!” 

Fallen Eyelashes. 

The rain pounded down on your roof like pebbles on a tin can. You sat on your kitchen counter, waiting for your kettle to boil while Renjun rummaged through your refrigerator. 

“You don’t have any bagels do you?” he asked as he straightened up. You shook your head apologetically. 

“I have to go to the store soon.” 

“We could go now,” he said, jumping up to sit next to you. 

“Is anywhere even open?” you asked, looking pointedly at the clock over the stove that read 1:16 am. 

“Probably,” he said, but he sounded doubtful. 

“We can go in the morning,” you told him, hopping off the counter as the kettle started to shriek. 

“Fine,” he sighed, jumping down after you and pulling two mugs down from the shelf. “Be boring like that.” 

“Watch it, I have boiling water and I’m not afraid to use it,” you warned as you brandished the steaming kettle. 

“Okay, okay,” he held his hands up in surrender, stepping back as you poured water into the mugs and dunked a tea bag into each. You set a five-minute timer to let them steep before moving back to sit on the counter. 

“Hey, wait,” Renjun said, reaching a hand out to stop you. “You have an eyelash right,” he drew out the word as he lifted it off your cheek, “here,” he held it out on his pointer finger. “Make a wish.” 

You smiled a little before bending forward and blowing the eyelash off his finger and into oblivion. 

Fountain Coins. 

You and Renjun walked arm in arm through the city streets, making your way towards the local art museum. He had been chattering to you excitedly about the new exhibit for days, and here was your opportunity to finally see it for yourselves. 

You rounded the corner that led to the museum and suddenly the street opened up around you and turned into a spacious square. In the middle sat a grand fountain, its centerpiece a bronze rendition of Poseidon, complete with a trident and numerous dolphins jumping all around him. 

“Oh, cool,” Renjun said under his breath. “Do you have any coins?” You nodded, pausing to rummage around in your bag before producing two coins, one for you and one for Renjun. 

“Make a wish,” he reminded you as you stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the fountain. You did as he said, closing your eyes and rubbing the coin between your thumb and forefinger before tossing it into the crystal clear pool. 

Shooting Stars. 

“Remind me why I’m doing this?” you queried as you followed Renjun down the forest path, blanket tucked under your arm. 

“Because you love me.” 

“That may be true, but this seems an awful lot like the start of a horror movie.” 

“Just wait, it’ll be worth it, I promise.” 

You sighed but stopped complaining, choosing to focus on keeping Renjun insight instead. A minute or two later you emerged into a large clearing, a field really, with the open night sky above your heads. 

“Oh wow,” you whispered in awe, but Renjun still heard you. 

“I told you,” he said triumphantly, gesturing for you to give him the blanket you’d carried with you there. 

He shook it out and laid it down in the middle of the field. After he had plopped down onto it he patted the space next to him, signaling for you to join him. Laying back the two of you marveled at the endless night sky, the milky way a wondrous strip of sparkling light. 

Renjun pointed out constellations and planets to you, telling you about the articles he’d read lately that detailed the discoveries being made every day. Suddenly, a streak of light raced across the sky to your left. Renjun stopped midsentence to point excitedly. 

“Did you see that?” he cried out. 

“Yeah,” you said, smiling at his youthful enthusiasm. 

“Did you make a wish?” 

You nodded again as you pushed yourself up to meet his eyes. The stars were quite literally reflected in them, but you thought they were bright enough already without any help from the heavens. 

Birthday Candles. 

“Okay, he’s almost here!” you called out as you tucked your phone back into your pocket after reading Haechan’s text of forewarning. You went to switch off the lights while Jaemin hissed at the others to quiet down. 

You found a place to hide behind the couch with Jeno and Jisung, your heart beating overtime in anticipation. The six of you sat in the dark and quiet for what felt like an eternity until finally the door swung open and you heard Haechan scream out a “Surprise!” He pushed Renjun through the door in front of him as he did so, signaling the rest of you to jump out of your hiding places and begin to sing. 

Renjun stood stock-still for a moment, clearly just as startled as you had hoped he would be. Then after a moment, he broke out into laughter, looping an arm around Haechan’s neck in a halfhearted chokehold. Smiling around the words of the song, you pulled him to stand in front of his cake where it sat on the table, already lit. 

As the song came to a close, punctuated by Haechan and Chenle’s high-pitched screams and Mark’s breathless laughter, you said quietly enough that only Renjun could hear you through the chaos. 

“Make a wish.” 

[radabadabing-bing]

Wager of Weights

So embarrassing story, I wrote the bulk of this in 2019 and apparently had it like, almost complete?? I don’t know why I didn’t finish it then, but I cleaned it up and got it all ready to go because, while perhaps not totally reflective of my current work, there’s no point in tossing it down the drain. I will also say it’s not totally what I usually write, and my first time writing a lot of the content present in it, so it may also not be the best? But I’m a harsh judge of my own work haha. To clarify, this was (and still is) a gift for @pangtasias-atelier all the way when they were still Kink of the Emblem. And really I have to give him a lot of thanks for helping me grow this blog in the first place, so thanks for that. If you are somehow following me but not him, do that because he makes some good stuff (and comms good stuff too). And if you’re reading this right now- You’re awesome dude, love your work, and I hope you enjoy it!

It was no secret that the Summoner played favorites, and those favorites were Grima and Tibarn. One or the other was usually found by his side, and at times even both. But the problem had laid in the fact that there were two favorites...and one summoner. Tibarn didn’t seem to mind too much about this. So, perhaps more accurately, the problem laid with Grima.

Grima was a controversial figure among the heroes themselves- something of the territory coming with being an ancient dragon with little to no regard for human life. The Summoner had pacified Grima into being passive-aggressive to most of the others...Though Tibarn usually faced the aggressive half. 

Grima had been feeling particularly vitriolic on this day. The Summoner had gone out on patrol without either him or Tibarn, leaving the two in awkward coexistence. “You know, if this vessel had the muscle your body had, I’m almost certain the summoner would enjoy my company much more. Enough to leave you behind.” “Really now?” As said, Tibarn didn’t mind the venomous words. He viewed the fell dragon as a bit of a blowhard, never really giving it too much thought. The guy thought he was on top of the world, and as a nigh impotent god he sort of was. 

“Almost certainly.” Grima retorted, unaware of what he was starting here.

“Hmm...Well, why not a competition?” A good challenge had presented itself to Tibarn, he wasn’t about to miss the chance. “Me and you- We work ourselves harder than ever. We both commit ourselves to getting stronger and stronger, and see if your little theory there holds up.” “Deal.” Not a moment of hesitation from Grima. “I’ll come out on top- just you watch.” The King of Phoenicis grinned at this. It would be an interesting challenge at the least.

Tibarn only needed to ramp up his standard workout. A little more weight. A little more time spent doing it. The rewards of this weren’t immediately noticeable, but as the days rolled on his pecs seemed to bulge ever slightly more, abs right along with them. His thighs and calves refined to a great extent, looking in shape enough to crack stone. Biceps nearly tearing apart his sleeves, Tibarn finding himself needing more bandage to cover his arm to his liking.

Even his silhouette- already intimidating from a good height and wingspan, seemed to grow ever further. A few inches on both his height and wings. His clothes constrained ever so slightly more to contain his greater apex form.

Grima had a more interesting growth period. The vessel he inhabited needed no sustenance as long as he controlled it, and similarly had a nigh boundless energy pool, meaning that it was simply what effort he was willing to put into the competition. To self improve took valuable time away from being at the Summoner’s side, but not doing it would give the hawk a free victory, and Grima hated that even more.

The growth he had was more dramatic than Tibarn’s, but ultimately he could only just catch up. Just a few inches under the laguz, just able to lift a bit less than what Tibarn could, and most frustratingly seeing that the Summoner hadn’t actually changed who they spent the most time with. Proving Grima’s theory wrong. This had frustrated the dragon to no end, how could he possibly be wrong?

But during a session, where he attempted to still catch up to Tibarn, it dawned on him. He didn’t necessarily need to beat the hawk king, no. It was futile at this point, not without submitting himself further to this...mortal regimen. No, all Grima needed to do was drag Tibarn behind! And drag him very, very far behind.

Tibarn already ate quite a bit, and having a rigorous training session now only seemed to increase his appetite. Which made it exceptionally easy to slip in a curse or two on some meat. But Grima wasn’t about to make it obvious. This would be a slow burn.

At first, Tibarn’s gains seemed to stagnate. Simply stopped growing. At a glance, someone would think that he had hit the apex. He just couldn’t improve anymore. Though once a slight layer of pudge formed near his waistline, it was clear he hadn’t only stopped his growths- he was degrading.

Each passing day, Tibarn seemed to be gaining more and more weight. Getting wider rather than taller, his clothes ill-fitting not because of burgeoning muscle, but fat. With the greater weight, his workouts had become too laborious to follow up on, which certainly didn’t help the sudden expansion. Soon constrained to the ground, too heavy to even be lifted by his wings the slightest bit.

All the while Grima watched with sadistic satisfaction. Tibarn’s body swelled by the day, the laguz undoubtedly having lost at this point. Grima’s vessel had grown significantly- past Tibarn’s form before he had laid the curse. His shirt hardly fit, more akin to a crop top, and the cloak that had once only been an inch or two from the ground was now hovering near a foot. If Grima’s simple status as the fell dragon hadn’t kept people away before, his pinnacle form sure had now. His mere presence exuded a terrifying aura, though this once again didn’t keep away the summoner.

By chance, Grima had encountered Tibarn one day. Whom was waddling now, something that Grima took some amusement in. “I...I don’t know what happened.” He admitted, a slight jiggle to his two chins. “It would appear I’ve surpassed you.” Grima said with a smug cadence. “And indeed, the Summoner spends more time at my side.”

“Right…” Tibarn wasn’t exactly sure how true that was, but he couldn’t argue that Grima had indeed beaten him at this point.

A few more moons, and the hawk could no longer be found waddling through the halls. Apparently he had grown too large to even move. Music to Grima’s ears.

Until he noticed something. The summoner had started to periodically disappear throughout the day- not off to battle clearly, not with the food he was carrying. With Grima’s interest piqued, he tailed the Summoner, managing to not be noticed even with his larger size. Not the first thing on his mind, as he was far more frustrated with the destination. Tibarn’s dwelling.

It was back to the drawing board for Grima once more. He simply did not understand. He had undermined Tibarn to immobility...Exceeded his body. What was he getting wrong? There was a piece of the puzzle missing...and it dawned on him once more.

The Summoner hadn’t gone out of his way to see Tibarn before the laguz had been grounded.

Grima had been trying too hard all along. And in doing this, had let Tibarn win the adoration of the Summoner, though it was still soon enough to steal this victory back. For every curse the dragon had laid, he always had a solution. 

Night had fallen, and Grima’s final plot was being enacted. With no pesky heroes to gawk at him or see where he was going at this hour, nor the summoner’s watchful eye, the path to where Tibarn’s massive form slept was simple to traverse.

Grima would admit, he never got a good look at the hawk king after that last brief conversation. So seeing Tibarn now was something of a shock. His body had overtaken the bed, though calling it a “bed” was a bit of an overstatement. More like mattresses to keep something between the floor and the laguz. It took Grima a moment to make out limbs and a head.

It would’ve been amusing, if it wasn’t so effective at getting the summoner’s attention. But that privilege would not be Tibarn’s for much longer. A glow to his eyes and hands, he began to cast the spell. The giant tanned mass seemed to rumble, beginning a transformation, or rather, a reversion. Though this didn’t rouse the still slumbering Tibarn. Meanwhile, Grima’s form began to change- his set of washboard muscles beginning to disappear, as a gut formed in its place.

With the counter curse successfully placed, Grima could leave the room satisfied. As the hawk shrunk like a deflating balloon, the dragon’s vessel did the opposite- body expanding every which way as he returned to his own chambers. Thighs now beginning to chafe, clothes straining to contain the stolen fat. Seams popping and tearing, a smug grin on his plump face.

In the morning, Tibarn awoke, like a weight was lifted off of him. Quite literally: He could move once more. And not just move at a waddle- His adonis form had been completely returned to him. How, Tibarn wasn’t sure. But his inner laguz instincts were happy about it, ready to return to the battlefield that very day.

Though one hero was not very ready to join Tibarn out in the battlefield, which was Grima. His body anchored firmly down within his dwelling, only able to make the slightest movements as he looked down upon the summoner. Just as immobile as Tibarn had been a few hours prior.

“Summoner, it’s quite terrible!” He said in a casual, almost mocking tone. “I simply woke up like this. I certainly can’t go out to fight in this state...or leave this chamber at all.”

That wasn’t Grima’s concern. Sure, he had certainly lost the wager he had made with Tibarn, but that was all worthless in retrospect. No, the look of awe on the Summoner’s face- That was all Grima needed to know he had won.

[papergirllife]

Down The Rabbit Hole

Xiao De Jun (M)

🎃Happy Halloween,everyone.🎃

*gif credits to owner

*masterlist is pinned at blog.

warnings : unprotected sex, high sex, choking.

Alice in distress,

may the Cheshire cat be blessed.

Community service your mom said, it’ll be great for publicity, which is all she cares about. Your mom is the part of the community of your neighborhood, and let’s just say she loves fulfilling her duties so much that it’s become an obsession of hers to be seen on the local papers for the activities she attend, something like a minor celebrity. Sadly, the moms here all love her, your mom wanted to work a reputation up, since your father left her for someone younger, your mother needed something else to fill the emptiness and lack of accomplishment she’s felt because of him. Hence why you’re trekking in the forest of your town, trying to pick up as much rubbish as you could that were thrown by irresponsible hikers.

“This is all you fault Y/N, if it weren’t for you, we won’t be stuck in this shitty hike in such a cold weather.”

Becca was part of the so called ‘friend group’ of this neighborhood of yours that your mom forced you to make friends with just because she was friends with her mom. You don’t bother answering her nor the deathly glares from her clique to you, you didn’t have any real friends in this town, other than one or two boys you played games with.

It was until the middle of the hike when your mom called for a break, the community members all started to sit down and have a picnic.

“Remember to clean up after yourselves,” your mom said.

You chewed on a sandwich you packed begrudgingly, wishing you had hot food instead, cursing at yourself for not packing food into a thermos. When you finished, you decided to venture further away on your own, unable to stand the not so silent whispers behind your back. You decided to sit underneath a sturdy looking oak tree that looked older than any other tree here. Once you leant back, your back started falling, for some reason, the stem of the tree opened up and swallowed you in, the hole you fell in closing as you fell deeper into the hole. You didn’t scream, you were too scared, you knew you would be dead once you hit ground, so you closed your eyes and waited.

Instead of hitting ground, you fell into something that felt softer than cotton, with a blue glow like the clouds on the sky. Were you dead? You looked around, you were still in the forest, but the forest looked different here. Were these the unexplored parts of the hill?

“How graceful, Alice has nothing on you, sweetheart.”

You screamed, trying to get out of the ‘cloud’, but all you could do was trash in it because of how it’s too soft and big.

“Easy, don’t panic. I’m right here.”

Suddenly, a man around your age appeared next to you, his smile bright and somewhat familiar looking. That’s when the memory came back to you.

“You’re just like the Cheshire cat in Wonderland. Where am I? And who are you?”

“You’re in the other side of the forest, or the whole world, depends on how you see your position geographically. I’m Xiao De Jun, but you can call me Xiao Jun, and I’m a fairy. Oh and another detail? I eat humans.”

“Wait what? What do you mean the other side? What do you mean fairies eat humans?”

“Well, let’s just say fairies aren’t all Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella, those stories are told just to induce naive humans like you to fall in our traps. But you’re a pretty one, and you didn’t scream like a darned banshee just now, I might just keep you.”

“Keep me? Get us out of this thing, who said I was an object?!”

“I’ll get us out once we reach my palace, now hold on tight sweetheart, and please don’t scream like a mad woman, or I’ll eat you up in a gulp like the others.”

Xiao Jun booped your nose with his index finger before he leant back with an cynical smile on his face. The cloud floated up high, letting you see the scenery below you clearly. There were cities just like the human world, but instead of metal and blocks, these were held up by wood and magic, because there was no way a building as tall as the Eiffel Tower require no bolts and nuts, and you doubt its transparent like bubble had any glass panes.

"It’s beautiful.”

“It’s nothing compared to the beautiful lady beside me.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up at his flirty remarks. You quickly thought up of something to divert the topic, not being used to receiving compliments out of the blue.

“You said you have a palace? Are you a prince?”

“I’m a king, my father just passed away.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Xiao Jun.”

“For a human you’re quite sentimental, cleaning the forest, not threatening to kill me even though you have a knife in your pocket, and not screaming at me like a mad woman. You’re quite different from what I expected.”

“What do you...

“That’s our stop, less chatter and get a move on, or no mint chocolate ice cream for you.”

Calling Xiao Jun weird would be an understatement, his personality was like a cross of between Marry Poppins and Willy Wonka, and his palace was nothing far from that either, fortress painted with pastel tones, and that fountain was definitely chocolate, the windows looked like panes of thin candy, while the draw bridge was shaped like a milk cracker. The swimming pool at the back looked like it was filled with different flavours of fanta.

“Are you the witch from Hansel and Gretel?”

“Do I look like an old hag?”

Instead of entering from the main entrance, the cloud took you to the back of the castle where there was a balcony which overlooked the pool and the garden. Once you landed, the cloud disappeared beneath you, but Xiao Jun’s quick reflexes caught you before you fell on your butt.

“Welcome to my chambers. I forgot to ask for your name sweetheart.”

“Y/N,” you said as breathlessly, still in shock from your near fall.

Xiao Jun’s room was huge, the walls were mint green while the furniture were all made of dark oak with gold accents, just like his favourite ice cream flavour. You looked up to see a beautiful chandelier that defied the laws of gravity. The candles as well as the whole structure of the chandelier was shaped like an overturned tiered cake, each tier turning at its own pace with different colours flickering on the candles. The bed was just like the cloud you travelled on, just bigger and in a shade of pastel pink that made it look like cotton candy.

“You must really like your sweets.”

“The only human food that actually tastes good. Make yourself comfortable, it’s not like you’re leaving.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m keeping you.”

“You can’t do that! I don’t belong to you!”

“It’s written in the stars that you’ll be my queen, and I don’t have to force you. You’re going to stay.”

“Why would you know that?”

“Because I’ve been watching you and your fate in our stars, you lead an unhappy life in the mortal world, living like a balloon which lost its string, wandering aimlessly, slowly deflating just like your personality. When was the last time you truly enjoyed yourself without your mother giving you disapproving looks? What happened to your dream of being a writer? What happened when you said you wanted to go out for your birthday? What happened when you told her about your anxiety? Oh right, she called you a freak.”

Xiao Jun wasn’t shouting the words in your face, in fact it was gentle like an angel’s singing, yet what he said drizzled into your heart like sweet poison. You let out a chocked sob, you felt naked under his scrutinisation. Xiao Jun observed your life under a microscope, knowing you better than yourself.

“How do you know all of this?”

“I’ll show you.”

Xiao Jun wiped your tears with his expensive button up, the tears making the blue silk turn inky black. He then took your hand in his, guiding you out of his room into a room down the same hallway. Compared to the other odd looking fancy doors, this was bare of any jewels or gold. Xiao Jun turned the knob and led you in the dimly lit room, the room only had a large mirror with red candles on its sides.

“Show me, Lee Hyenji.”

That was your mother’s name.

The mirror flickered a few times before showing you the image of your mother.

“Where is that dumb girl? Always day dreaming and never getting things done. Wandering on her own, I’m just waiting for the day she leaves me like that useless father of hers.”

“Show me Becca Park.”

“I’m soo glad she’s lost, we don’t need to deal with her just to make our mothers happy anymore. She didn’t like hanging out with us anyways.”

Xiao Jun’s eyes flickered to yours to see your reaction, instead of holding sadness like he thought it would’ve been, your eyes were empty, the images on the mirror reflecting in your eyes like shadows in a murky lake.

“Why aren’t you angry?”

“Because they’re right.”

“No, they’re not. Mirror, show me Saved Memories.”

The mirror played images of you working on your short stories, snippets of you singing along your favourite song, as well as videos of you learning a dance.

“You shine like the brightest star in the galaxy sweetheart. Don’t let ducks call a swan ugly. They’re not even in your league, darling.”

“Am I?”

“You don’t need my confirmation, you can see it as well, maybe a flicker here and there, but those little flickers will grow into a  flame if you leave that life of yours. Don’t think too much about it, come, have a shower, I’ll show you to your room.”

Xiao Jun took you down the hall into your room, which was in front of his.

“I made it just like the bedroom in your world, so there shouldn’t be a problem with figuring out the shower. That laptop is yours, as well as those books, they’re the ones you already have and ones that you always wanted to read. The internet’s password is your birthday, yes we have internet access here. I painted the walls with the shade of blue you love, the bed is lilac, since you love that colour as well. There’s clothes from your own wardrobe as well as our clothes, it might be a bit fancy, but you might like it.”

Xiao Jun turned into such a sucker for you, the ‘I eat humans’ was such a front, you couldn’t help but smile at his dorkiness.

True to what Xiao Jun said, the shower was just like a regular shower, and the clothes in the wardrobe were nicely prepared to fit your size, making you wonder how he knew even these little details.

You went out and knocked on his door, Xiao Jun was out by the third knock, his hair now in yellow curls.

“What’s with the hair?”

“This is my natural hair colour, didn’t want to scare you too much just now. Though we really do eat humans, just the hearts, the hearts taste exquisite, according to the old fairies, and only if they threaten to develop that piece of forest. We used to eat humans all the time, until my father put a ban on it, didn’t want to look suspicious.”

There was a look of horror on your face.

“Trust me, only the old fairies eat humans, we prefer animals most times.”

You let out the breath of air you were holding in.

“This is my own private dining room, and tonight we would be having steak and ox tail soup, no humans.”

You manage to let out a laugh at his odd humour, starting to feel more at ease in his presence.

The two of you ate and drank wine, talking about his life as a royalty in his fairy kingdom.

“My mom told me I would have wings, I was so scared I checked my back every night before I slept, until I realised no one had wings and that it was just something made up in the tales.”

After dinner, the two of you danced ungracefully, the wine making your head light and footsteps a mess, giggling at each other’s mistake. After the two of you got tired, Xiao Jun carried you into his room.

He placed you on top of a couch, taking a seat beside you to admire the beautiful stars in the clear night sky.

“Would you like to try fairy dust?’

“It makes you fly? Like Peter Pan?”

“That is only one usage of fairy dust, we eat it as well. Wait let me show you.”

Xiao Jun took your hand and led you to his walk in wardrobe, it was just as big as the room he gave you, but what caught your attention was a mini pool, but instead of liquid, it was filled with swirling sparkling dust.

“Oh my god.”

Since you were drunk, you did the dumbest yet most logical thing ever, jumping into the pool. The dust made you bounce on an invisible force.

“Why am I not flying?”

“You have to give directions in your head, but I wouldn’t recommend doing that, I wouldn’t want to call medic when you hit your head.”

“Right...Jump in, join me!”

Xiao Jun shook his head in disbelief, but jumped in with a smile on his face regardless. Xiao Jun walked to your direction, stopping right in front of you.

“Breath it in.”

You did as he said, the fairy dust making you feel happy and free, as well as a warm feeling in your stomach that you can’t put your finger on once you look at Xiao Jun,, your eyes scanning his beautiful physique. Xiao Jun breathed in the dust after you, his eyes diluting into a darker shade of brown, his senses picking up little things about you that he didn’t before, like the plump of your lips, the curve of your hips under that tight skirt.

“Y/N, I want you.”

Xiao Jun kissed you with fervour, his tongue dipping into your welcoming mouth. Instead of pushing him away like he thought, you kissed him with just as much passion, your hands starting to linger under his shirt. Xiao Jun started to unbutton your top, throwing it out of the pool.

“No bra?”

“This isn’t the mortal world, there aren’t any sex predators here.”

“What about me?”

“This is for you, my king.”

Xiao Jun didn’t know whether this was you talking, or the fairy dust in your system. Xiao Jun marked up the length of your neck, purple flowers blooming in his wake as you started taking off his shirt and pants.

“Why the rush, love?”

“I need you, please.”

The amount of slick flowing onto your legs was too much to be normal, you didn’t know what side effects the dust has, but you just needed relief, and only Xiao Jun could give that to you. Xiao Jun took off your skirt and panties, smiling at that pretty piece of ruined silk in his hands.

“Wonderful.”

Xiao Jun let his hands travel southwards as his lips engulf your breast in his mouth, nibbling and sucking away like a new born, as well as leaving a mark near your nipple, the slight possessiveness sending shivers down your back. Your hands curl in Xiao Jun’s soft locks as he pushes a finger into you, when he could feel how wet you were, he decided to push two more in, curling his fingers at your sweet spot, making you cry out his name breathlessly. 

“Xiao Jun, more please. I need you inside me.”

You grinded onto his bare cock, his pre cum smearing over your slit, egging him to slide inside you.

Xiao Jun, pushed inside you in one go, your wet walls welcoming him. The action made both of you moaning in sync, lust filled relief washing over the both of you, making both of you crave for more. He started moving once you adjusted to his length, you could feel every vein and curve of his length as he bottoms out inside of you. Xiao Jun pushed himself closer to you, feeling you nipples against his own as he thrusted inside of you, the friction making your head spin from pleasure. Xiao Jun couldn’t believe it, after so many years of waiting, he finally had you in his arms, withering under his pleasurable touch. Xiao Jun slides a hand from your hips down to your clit, rubbing quick circles over it. Whimpers of his name fall from your lips like a beautiful piece of music, you were nearing your high as you felt the build up of an orgasm as your toes start to curl, your legs wrapped tighter around Xiao Jun’s waist as your head falls onto his shoulder, the overwhelming pleasure binding your body with his as he continues his thrusts, pace quickening once he felt you nearing the edge. Xiao Jun lifts you higher to thrust into you at a better angle, his tip hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, making you scream his name as your nails dug down his back, the pain mixing with the pleasure fuels Xiao Jun’s desire to absolutely ruin you under his touch.

“Cum for me, Y/N. I know you’re close.”

When you didn’t answer his request, Xiao Jun snapped his hips against yours at an even quicker pace, the speed of his thrusts inhuman, making your head swirl in pleasure as little bits of saliva drip from your lips down your throat as you throw you head back, the sight of the marks Xiao Jun left behind from earlier pushing his need for release. Once Xiao Jun wrapped a hand around your beautiful neck, you lost it. You couldn’t even scream as the pleasure was overwhelming all your senses, blinding white light behind your closed lids, your mind chanting his name like a mantra. Xiao Jun let out a beautiful moan once he felt your walls closing around his length in a vice grip, sending him over the edge as he paints your walls a milky white, his pearly white teeth biting down your shoulder to muffle his noises.

Once your orgasm subsides, you collapsed into Xiao Jun’s arms, energy drained completely by the handsome fairy. Xiao Jun carried you into his bed with the assistance of fairy dust, glad that he didn’t need to wobble into bed supporting your weight as well as his. He adjusted the pillows and blanket to accommodate your comfort, slipping in beside you once he was done, taking you into his warm embrace. Only one thought in his head.

‘You’re going to be with me for eternity, and nothing is going to take you away from me, my love, just like what the stars told me.’

[tinytonysnark]

never fallen from quite this high

this is dedicated to @starkrogerrs and @fred-deeks-ben as well as everyone who liked this post. thank you for the motivation <3 

1. Holding their hands when they are shaking. 

The gallery was already filling up by the time Steve got there. 

There were caterers milling about with trays of finger foods that regardless of portion size, will probably sit like a lead weight in Steve’s stomach. Especially as he spots more and more people making their way through the exhibit, to the back, where his painting is. 

He’s going to be sick. God, he should have picked a different painting, one that doesn’t make his insides feel like they’re tying themselves into knots at the very thought of him seeing it - but this counts for half of Steve’s grade and none of his other paintings had come close to being good enough and now - that painting is hanging on the walls of this exhibit and all his friends are walking through the door and he hasn’t even told -

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky says, clean shaven and hair swept back neatly, wearing a crisp white button down. An ensemble Sam - looking put together as he always does-  clearly appreciates from the way he’s eyeing his boyfriend. 

“Why aren’t you standing by your work?” Natasha asks, looking gorgeous in an off-shoulder black dress, her eyes narrowed at him. 

“Was waiting for you guys,” Steve lies, hoping his panic isn’t reflected on his face.

“Tony’s on his way,” Sam says before Steve can even get the question out, whose mouth shuts with a click. “He got caught up with Thor.”

Oh. Thor. 

Tony’s new friend who he’s been spending a lot of time with, in the last couple of weeks. Tony’s new friend who looks like an underwear model and is named after a Norse God - because sure, why not? - and can actually keep up with Tony’s stream of science talk because he’s studying astrophysics - because of course he is. In the face of all that, what chance does Steve have really, if he even had one to begin with.

God, he doesn’t know what’s worse - if Tony ends up making it to the exhibit, or gets derailed because of Thor and misses it because they’re off doing - 

“I’m here! I’m here!” Tony shouts from across the floor of the showroom, drawing looks from the patrons though Steve would argue that Tony draws looks no matter what he does, especially so if he’s wearing a fire truck red dress shirt.

“Sorry I’m late, I was with -”

“Thor, I know,” Steve cuts in, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Judging from the look on Nat’s face, he’s failed spectacularly. 

Clearing his throat, Bucky grabs Sam’s arm and says, “We’re gonna go check out some art. Coming Nat?”

“Oh, I’m with you,” she says, giving Tony a peck on the cheek before shooting a look at Steve that he roughly translates to ‘watch yourself.’ 

She’s always been overly protective of Tony. Tiberius Stone still bolts at the mere sight of her - which, good riddance, really, but Steve’s never asked what she said or possibly did to him, and at this point he’s too afraid to ask. 

Though he might end up finding out tonight anyway, based on how Tony will react. 

“Steve,” Tony crosses his arm, fingers twitching in the crook of his elbow, “What’s wrong?”

Looking at Tony isn’t an option, so he stares in the direction of where his painting hangs and says, “Just nervous. A lot of my grade is riding on this. Why didn't you bring Thor?”

“Oh,” and Steve doesn’t even need to look to know that Tony is smiling, the one that causes crinkles in the corner of his eyes. “I finally, after weeks, got him to Thor up, and ask Bruce out.”

Steve whips his head to stare at Tony so fast, he’s possibly sprained something. “What do you mean ask Bruce out?”

Tony grins, “Yeah, Thor’s been crushing pretty hard and Brucie’s been locked away in his lab for an unhealthy amount of time - and if I’m saying that, you know it’s bad - but he did it! They’re on their date as we speak, and no offence Steve but I don’t he had this in mind for their first date.”

There are a lot of emotions swirling through Steve’s brain right now but at the forefront, it’s definitely relief, and a little bit of shame - I mean, he really has no right to be jealous but he doesn’t know what to say to all that except for, “Good for them.”

There’s a look in Tony’s eye he can’t decipher before the other man grabs his arms and starts leading him towards his painting and oh, oh no - 

“And I know you said you’re nervous, but you really have nothing to be nervous about Steve. You’re incredibly talented and you’re gonna get an exorbitant amount of money thrown at you from all these stuffy art snobs bidding on your work.”

Steve can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him as Tony drags him along. “They’re not for sale, Tony. Erskine has to grade them.”

“Well tough because I’m definitely gonna get Pepper to -”

But Steve doesn’t find out what Tony’s going to get Pepper to do, because he stops dead in his tracks and tapers off, eyes wide and mouth open just a little as he stares at the portrait - his own face reflected back to him on canvas. 

It’s a painting of a photograph, one that he had instantly favourited and stared at all day after Bucky sent it to their group chat - of Tony at the park when they’d decided to have a picnic after Nat’s last paper. His head is thrown back in a laugh, but his eyes are open, shining in the afternoon sun with the crinkles in the corner, cheeks flushing with pink on his brown skin and hair falling on his forehead, curling delicately around his temples - no product or styling other than him running his hands through it every 5 minutes. 

He had looked so relaxed - so, so unguarded - that Steve couldn’t not try to recapture it with his favourite medium to do so, which is now here, waiting to be graded - oh god, why, why why did he - 

“Steve?” he hears distantly, like he’s underwater. “What - when did you - why, why is my face hanging on this wall?”

Steve winces and thinks, well if their friendship is about to end right now because of this, he might as well be honest. “I - Nothing else I painted was good enough, Tony. Erskine has always said to us throughout the year that the difference between a good painting and a great painting is how the artist feels during the process and about the subject. The paintings I have of my mom are good but they’re a little sad and a touch nostalgic. The pictures I have of our friends, they don’t even come close to what you see here.” He sighs then, looks into Tony’s wide, wide eyes and grabs hold of his shaking hands. “Because what you’re looking at here, this is how I feel. This is - this is my heart bled out on canvas because you’re all that’s in it - your smile, your laugh, your eyes -you’re it, for me, Tony.”

Tony has tears pooling in his eyes and Steve is about to step back, terrified with the knowledge that he’s messed up his relationship with one of his best friends but then there’s lips on his lips. 

Tony is kissing him. 

Tony is kissing him - god, he’s so relieved he thinks he’s shaking - and he nearly lifts Tony off his feet when he starts kissing back. 

They break apart when they hear Bucky whistle at them, soft smiles on their faces. 

“You’re it for me too, Steve. Always have been,” Tony says, and really what else can Steve do but kiss the smile on Tony’s lips. 

🎨 🎨 🎨

Erskine gives him an A with distinction for his work and Nat takes them all out to dinner to celebrate, treating them with the pool money she won from the “when will Steve and Tony get together bet” that he found out about that night. 

Steve isn’t really too bothered by it as much as Tony is, arguing with them that they should get a cut off the money cause as he looks at Tony’s smile that’s he now carries with him on his lock screen, his laughter ringing around the diner and the feel of him where they’re pressed side to side in the cramped booth, he knows who really won.

[batgurl1989]

A Wolf In Toussaint Chapter Three

Summary: After being summoned by the Duchess, you and Geralt head to the Palace of Beauclair with some trouble on the road.

Word Count: 2120

Warnings: spoilers for the Blood and Wine DLC

A/N: I know this is so soon after the last chapter, but I was too excited not to post it. Taglist is open, requests are open.

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

Taglist: @rmtndew @henrynerdfan @princesssterek @seanh-boredom @djinny-djin-djin @diegos-butt @cynic-spirit @daddys-littlewhitegirl

"Younin! Watch out!" Geralt growled a warning at you as you dodged a stream of caustic acid an Archespore shot at you. Where Igni hadn't scorched the ground, the large plant-like monsters' poison had. Geralt slashed at one of the large plants, trying to sever it's head.

You tried to stay to the edges of the battle zone, drawing on the smoldering embers for power as you kept fire shooting from one hand at the plants. You didn't have any silver weapons on you, which would have to be remedied as soon as possible. You knew Geralt was worried about you, and that was causing him to be distracted. It had only been a few days since you woke up, and this was the first time you had had to fight since the bandits on your way to Novigrad. You knew it was a risk to draw on the fire, as it was the hardest element to control, and the chaos was weakening you at an alarming rate. But right now, you didn't need to control where it went as long as you aimed wide of where Geralt was.

"It's multiplying!" You called out over the din of the fighting. Buds were springing from the ground. Though these weren't full blown monsters yet, the vibrations of the fire and the fighting were agitating them. One burst close to you, spitting acid in all directions. A droplet landed on your boot, sizzling as it ate through the leather. "Shit!"

Geralt was by your side in a flash, pulling your boot off before the acid could make it to your skin. His eyes met yours for the briefest of moments, concern and something else flashing in the golden depths. You nodded that you were alright, and he was gone again. He swung his heavy silver sword deftly into the monster, his energy seeming to have jolted back to full now that you had come close to being hurt.

Turning your attention to the buds, you carefully stepped further back, out of range of any shooting poison. With your boot off, the rocky ground bit into your sole, but you couldn't think about that now. As long as you avoided the acid pools, you could handle it. Eyeing up the buds that seemed ready to burst, you unleashed a stream of fire, using all your concentration to aim true. The blooming plants burst into fire, sizzling as they wilted to the ground, their poison remaining inside and lighting up with the petals.

Your head snapped around when you heard hissing and squealing. Geralt had slashed through the bud that served as the monster's head, ending the monster's life, and stopping it from creating more buds. He carefully wiped his blade off before returning it to it's sheath alongside his steel blade.

With laser-like focus, he stormed over to you, his hungry eyes raking over your body in such a way that your breath caught in your suddenly dry throat. The tip of your tongue darted out to wet your lips, his eyes tracking the motion like a starving animal. You heard a low rumble deep in his chest, and it set all your nerves on fire, ready for him.

When he reached you, he pulled you roughly into his arms, his mouth covering yours with such force your teeth clacked against his. A long low moan escaped you as you pressed against him, desperate to get closer. The adrenaline from the battle still coursed through both your veins, and it needed an outlet. His hands spanned your back, pressing you tightly against his armour, his fingers gripping the linen shirt you wore for the road. You clutched the grooves of his armour, standing on your toes to kiss him deeper, your tongue delving into his mouth to tangle with his own.

His hands travelled lower, gripping your arse before he lifted you off the ground. Instinctively you wrapped your leather bound legs around his waist, your arms going around his neck to steady yourself. With one arm banded under your legs, his free hand dove into your hair, pulling it free of the ponytail you had tossed it into. Your red hair caught in the breeze, fluttering around both your heads in a curtain of fire, blocking out the world.

You pulled away when breathing became a necessity, resting your forehead on his. His golden eyes searched yours, but you didn't know what he was looking for. You breathed deeply his scent, the adrenaline leaving your system, and your nerves calming. This man drove you wild and seemed to centre you. It was a complete whiplash effect, and had your head spinning, but you wouldn't give it up for anything.

"I suppose we should find the horses?" You whispered, not wanting to destroy the mood of your little world. Geralt chuckled softly, before kissing you all too briefly one last time. Slowly, he let you slide down his body until you were on solid ground again. As your foot hit the rocky ground, you remembered you only had one boot on. "I don't suppose you packed extra boots in my size?"

"Sorry, it was a vast oversight on my part." Geralt shook his head, going to retrieve your boot. He examined it quickly to make sure there was no acidic poison left on it, and to make sure the hole hadn't ruined the integrity of the boot. "You should be able to wear it until we get to the city. I promise to buy you a new pair."

"You don't have to do that. I can buy my own." You blushed as you sat on a nearby log to pull your boot back on. The hole wasn't any larger than the size of your pinky nail, and as long as it didn't rain, you would make it to the city. "Could we also stop by a blacksmith, and see about getting me a silver sword or at least a dagger?"

"Of course." Geralt nodded, offering you a hand to help you up once your boot was laced again. You took his rough hand, but didn't let go once you were vertical. He raised his eyebrows at you, but a small smile played at his lips, and his grip tightened around your fingers. "But first, horses."

It didn't take you long to find the horses. They had run off at the first sound of trouble, but these were Toussaint horses, and were used to being ridden into battle, so they hadn't gone far. They were munching grass as though bored, which you couldn't help but laugh at.

"Dandelion is bringing Roach and Marabelle when he comes down. He sent a letter while you were sleeping." Geralt explained once you were back on the road to the Palace of Beauclair.

"So the King let him go?" You were surprised that you hadn't been worried about it until now. Sure you had been busy being captured and then healing and regaining your strength, but your friend's well-being should have come to mind before now. You mentally kicked yourself for being so selfish. "Do we know yet what went wrong?"

"From what Yen could figure out from her sources, the King of Beggars is either working for someone who wants you and he was delivering you to him, or he was trying to get you away from the person who wants you." Geralt fought hard but ultimately failed to keep the edge off his tone. You weren't the only one jealous of an ex. "One day, you will have to tell me what he means to you."

"If that's what you really want." You had nothing to hide, and if Geralt needed to know for his own peace of mind, you wouldn't keep that from him.

"I'm not sure that it is." Geralt grumbled, adjusting the reins in his hands. "But it might be something that can give us a clue as to what just went down."

"Perhaps when we get back from the Palace, we will have time." You nodded. You knew how hard it was to ask about an ex, and if Geralt wasn't sure he was ready yet, you weren't going to push it. The King meant literally nothing to you other than as a friend, but you weren't sure Geralt would believe that without hearing the rest of it. "So is there anything I need to know about the Duchess?"

"Other than she likes things done her way and quickly, not really." Geralt shrugged. To him, the Duchess was no different than any other client, other than she had the army to back up her demands while farmers and villagers barely had the coin to get his services in the first place. "She can run a little hot and cold, but that depends on how grave the job is. If there is no job, she is actually quite pleasant to be around."

"Oh?" You raised your eyebrow at the Witcher, your voice dripping with unimpressed sarcasm. Knowing him and his past, there was only one conclusion that jumped out at you after what he said.

"Not like that, I swear." Geralt laughed deeply, warmly, in a way you rarely ever heard. Then his face grew serious. "Her sister, however..."

"You're joking! You have to be!" You blinked a few times, trying to wrap your head around the fact that he slept with the Duchess's sister. You were pretty sure she was dead, but didn't know if Geralt had a hand in that or not. "Are you joking?"

"I don't kiss and tell." Geralt winked at you but remained silent. Frowning you tried to think of a way to get him to talk, but knew that once he set his mind to it, there wasn't much you could do to change it.

"Fine. Keep your secrets." You mock pouted, turning back to the road ahead. The palace and the sprawling city across the river from it had come into view, and it took your breath away with its beauty.

"Like nothing up North, isn't it?" Geralt commented, watching you take in the fairytale-esque scene in front of you. The towering palace with its spires and arching bridges. Tall trees and rooftop gardens painted the scene with every shade of green. The lake shone like a fiery sapphire as the sunlight reflected on its smooth surface.

"Definitely not." You couldn't tear your eyes from it as you continued to ride towards it. You didn't remember making the decision to kick your horse into a gallop, but sound the wind was whipping through your loose hair, pulling it behind you as you raced toward the city. Geralt kept pace with you, smiling as the joy inside you bubbled into laughter at the freedom you felt in that moment.

At the city gates, you slowed your horses. Unlike in Novigrad, the guards at the gate were mostly there to keep the peace. No one was checking papers, or questioning anyone about whether they were magical or not. Everyone was free to roam in and out of the city as they wished. The atmosphere was completely different than what you were used to, and you felt almost giddy about it.

As you rode through town, your head was constantly swiveling to take in the sights and sounds of the lively city. Artists advertised their skills and their work outside brightly lit shops. Bakers were rushing to keep up with the demand for their pastries. Florists boasted about the colours of their most recent blooms, ready to steal the hearts of those who received them. Fresh fish was brought in from the river, the catch of the day being shouted to draw in more customers. There were few street walkers and even fewer homeless people. The cobble streets were wide and clean, nothing like what you were used to in Velen.

Geralt watched you with an amused look, indulging you when you wanted to stop to watch a street performer either sing or dance. He handed you coins to give to them when the performance was finished as you clapped loudly. Your heart sang out in happiness that he was showing you this part of his world and his life. You could see yourself easily settling in at Corvo Bianco, making wine, traveling to the city when you wanted to take in some art and culture. You found yourself wondering if Geralt would ever retire from the Path, and settle down here for good. But you shooed that dark cloud away before it could rain on the brightness of your day. You didn't know what the Duchess wanted, and that was as much darkness as you wanted right now.

[isthisthingeven0n]

you had one job, jason : d.d

brief summary: david has a few meetings away, leaving jason to make sure you’re alright as you’re due date is fast approaching 

word count: 1k requested: yes by a sweet ass anon. i hope you like the result angel! warnings: none that I’m aware of??

* I just wanna say my requests are closed for a while! I know you guys wanna send ideas in, but can you hold off for a week or so if that’s okay - just so I can catch up :) *

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

He’ll be a few days at the most, just a few days in Miami. It’s no big deal, you’ll be perfectly fine.

These are the words you keep telling yourself and your stomach repeatedly, but no matter how many times you say it, weirdly it refuses to sink in.

Lying back down on the sofa, you force a pillow beneath your back to help prop you up. “Jase?” You yell through the house, hearing the sound of a dish dropping as he runs over with wide eyes.

“Is she coming?!” He looks at you with pure panic on his face as he holds his hands out, dripping with soapy water.

You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head. “No, it’s alright.” You speak calmly, trying to hide your laughter. “I was just wondering if you could pass me my phone, it’s up on the counter next to the ice cream.” You say with a wide smile, watching as Jason grumbles before passing you both.

“I told David I’d keep you and baby safe, so don’t blame me for being on edge.” Jason states as he releases a heavy sigh, leaning against the sofa as you continue to eat your Ben & Jerry’s.

A few hours pass by as you drift in and out of sleep, feeling your baby moving restlessly. “One hour, that’s all I’m asking for.” You mutter as you draw circles on your stomach, knowing it’ll be a matter of weeks until she’s in your arms.

Closing your eyes, you try to fall back asleep but it’s useless to try anymore.

Begrudgingly you rise from the sofa stomach sticking out first as you push yourself up and shuffle to the bathroom. There’s something that feels a bit off, but you can’t quite pinpoint it.

As you close the bathroom door behind you, you look down to see water pooling around your feet. “Jason? Did you not turn the shower off?” You yell out before clutching your stomach and pat your crotch. “Holy shit.” You mutter as you look at your reflection.

Clutching yourself tightly you force the bathroom door open.

“JASON!” You scream through the house as he strolls over.

“Oh come on, I’m not falling for that.” He chuckles to himself before looking at the pure fear in your eyes. “Oh my god, really?!” He yells and you nod repeatedly. “Fuck, what do we do?” He begins to panic as you groan in pain, feeling it starting to happen.

“Jason, you have two kids!” You remind him as he stops pacing and rests his hands on your shoulders.

“It’s alright, Y/n.” He nods to you, swallowing the lump in this throat. “You’re in good hands.” He says with a lack of confidence, something that isn’t easing you in the slightest.

Moving his hands from your shoulders, you stare right at him. “Jason, get me to the hospital, now.” You say through gritted teeth as he nods, helping you out of the door without anything else being said.

*

“He’s coming right?” You ask once again as Jason keeps his eyes fixated on his phone, barely processing anything you’re saying as you remain seated on the hospital bed. “I am not having this child without him being here. I don’t care what plans you have squidge,” You look down at your stomach, the interaction making the passing Nurse chuckle. “you’re not coming til Daddy is here.” 

Unbeknownst to you, David is frantically driving through LA like a mad man. 

“David, slow the fuck down!” Natalie screams, but David isn’t paying attention. All he can think about is how he can’t miss this, this is the biggest moment of his life. There isn’t a pause or rewind button, if he misses this he’s doomed.

“Nat, Y/n is giving BIRTH!” David retorts as he slams on the brakes as he reaches the hospital car park. 

Throwing the keys to Natalie, he charges inside without even thanking his best friend. 

He reaches the front desk, his hands slamming down as he pants heavily. “Is Y/n Y/l/n,” He pants as the receptionist barely pays attention. “here?” He finishes and she tuts before typing into her computer.

“Relation?” She questions, looking back up as David parts his lips, words struggling to form. 

“Husband.” He manages to spit out as she nods, scrolling through a series of pages before she sighs. 

“She’s in room 1139. Down the corridor, turn left and take a right.” She states and David silently thanks her before rushing off. “Crazy man.” She mutters under her breath as David runs out of sight, just missing Natalie walking in with red cheeks. 

Jason sits beside you as you remain on gas and air, panic levels only rising with each passing minute. 

“He’ll be here,” Jason tells you as he squeezes your hand lightly, seeing tears build in your eyes. “David always finds a way, you know he will.” 

You force yourself to nod, for once wanting to believe that Jason might be right. “Jase,” You remove the mask from your mouth. “he was late for our wedding,” You let out a short laugh. 

Laughing under his breath, Jason nods. “He might just surprise you.” 

Shrugging your shoulders half-heartedly, you place the mask back over your mouth and lie back, allowing yourself a moment to focus on your breathing.

Jason glances down, seeing you remaining oblivious to his rising worries that maybe this will be another time David isn’t on time.

Just as doubts cloud his judgement, David runs through the door.

Sweat clings to his forehead as his hair matted down to it.

“David?” Jason rises to his feet, delight engulfing his voice as he cheers before giving David a tight hug. “Oh, David I was shitting myself that you wouldn’t get back.” He states as David smiles into the embrace before opening his eyes and shifts his focus to you.

Patting his back, Jason walks out of the room allowing you both to have a moment in private. As he glances back, he watches you open your eyes to David sitting beside you. 

“Oh my god,” You mutter as you wrap your arms around him, not wanting to let go. 

“I made it on time,” David chuckles to you as he wipes your hair from your face before resting a hand on your stomach.

“About fucking time and all.” 

[francoiserenaldt]

good things come to those who wait...

summary: there’s a boy and she doesn’t quite know what to do… (alternatively: melisande devereaux has really done it this time)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none

note: would it be a fic written by me if the moon didn’t make some kind of appearance? probably not. takes place after a few weeks at vancross.

Vancross is silent when she sneaks out of her dorm. 

Melisande took extra precautions to make sure that Tatum would be firmly in REM sleep—measuring his sleep patterns without looking like a stalker was easily the hardest thing Melisande had ever done and she once climbed a tree in heels for a photo op—and Murphy was a nonissue as long as Dionne was none the wiser. 

The one thing she hadn’t accounted for was guilt. The possibility of Tatum being punished for her actions had only occurred to her in this and it made her stomach ache, but she swallowed it and continued to walk. She had already made it this far.

This whole situation was his fault, anyway.

She eventually finds herself in the gardens. The sole light hanging from the top of the gazebo blinks to life at her arrival—she couldn’t even avoid the limelight in the wee hours of the morning, apparently—and she sits under the light and takes a breath. 

The speech she wrote sits in her back pocket. It’s awful even by her standards, but it’s the product of rushed scribbles in between classes and right before she went to sleep. She’s loath to imagine what would happen if any one of the numerous people surrounding her found out about this, but her mind wanders anyway. 

Blaine would, no doubt, tear it apart with a smirk, giddy with the realization that she knew Melisande was nothing but a sheltered puppet for her mother all along—Blaine wouldn’t say it that way, of course; despite a rivalry that spans over centuries and defies common sense, she’s oddly insistent on getting into Melisande’s pants.

Ayna would be concerned but supportive; the historian in her probably reckons that it would make killer supporting evidence in a collegiate thesis. Dionne probably would find it odd; parents controlling every aspect of their children’s lives was normal and resentment only hurt you in the end.

(Maybe she’d have a point.)

And Tatum...if Tatum got a hold of this, she would probably cease to exist on the spot.

Regardless, it doesn’t matter what everyone else would say if they saw it because they never will. Her reputation, her life even, depends on it.

She chuckles at that; it’s the most authentic speech she’ll ever write, but there can be no audience to receive it. She can only laugh to stop from crying.

The moon at Vancross is stunning this time of year, cool and quiet and drawing an odd feeling—too warm to be sadness, but far too cold to be wistful—from her. The scene was perfect, but it didn’t change the inevitable: Tatum would kill her if he knew she was out here.  

She almost wants him to; anything is better than this torturous dance they’ve been doing since he appeared in her dorm room. Everything about him was “job description this, job description that” until she could get him alone; even then, he would only drop the act for a few minutes before it was back to wishing he had never been assigned to her.

(Her heart only broke a little bit when he said things like that, of course. She’s an adult.)

(If only she actually felt like one.)

She stands and quietly clears her throat. If her calculations are good, she only has 20 minutes until someone notices that she’s gone. 

“I’m alone for the first time in a long time, so maybe I can finally put this weird feeling into words.” Melisande begins, just barely resisting the urge to fall into public speech mode. “I’m completely and utterly unsure of what I’m supposed to do with my life. Everyone has their own ideas about what I should be doing here. Mom wants me to come here and make the country proud by earning all of my marks, Dionne wants me to date, and Blaine...ugh, I shouldn’t even be speaking to her right now. I’m a grown woman and yet I’m letting everyone else tell me what’s good for me. The only person who’s fully respecting my decisions right now is...Tatum.”

She cuts herself off with a groan, crumpling the paper in her hands. “Fucking Tatum. I’m midway through articulating my quarter-life crisis and all I can think about is him.” She slumps down onto the bench, burying her face in her hands. “And I’m not even thinking about him, not really. The Tatum that wanted anything to do with me died overseas. The real Tatum is sleeping in his bed, probably dreaming about being literally anywhere else.”

A street light flickers on several meters away. A group of her peers chortles on their way to their dorms, no doubt drunk from some house party. She sighs, lifting her head.

“What did I expect, anyway? ‘Lisa and Tate against the world, like when we were kids?’ I barely want to be here and I’m actually getting something out of this.” She scoffs, sniffling. “God, I’m an idiot.” 

The wind picks up then, pulling her waist-length braids to the side. The night is still quiet and there’s no sign of life anywhere near, but she’s never felt more exposed. “I don’t even know him anymore. And he doesn’t want to know me. He’s just doing his job. It shouldn’t hurt this much to see him again.” She purses her lips as the heat behind her eyes swells once again, but she blinks it back. There’s still too much to say before she has to go back to bed. 

“But I have a job to do here, too. My mother is counting on me. Winston is counting on me. All of Rutherland is counting on me, so I won’t give up on them. I can’t. It’s out of the question.” She shakes her head violently. “But I won’t give up on him either. Not when I’m getting a little bit closer to seeing the real Tatum, my Tatum, in my life again. I can’t afford to screw this up. I can’t lose him again.”

Melisande tilts her head back and stares directly at the moon, letting the light reflect the pool of unshed tears in her deep brown eyes before she shuts them completely and lets the tears fall. “What the hell am I going to do?”

Off in the distance, a bell tower rings and the long hand of the clock beneath it settles on 4. She’d been out for far too long. It was only a matter of time before-

“Melisande.” 

(Shit.)

“Lecture me in the morning, please. I’m exhausted,” she sobbed.

She hears him clear his throat, probably out of awkwardness, before he speaks. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be out by yourself right now?”

“I think I could have handled myself against the flora and fauna, Tatum.” Melisande snaps, wiping furiously at the tears running down her cheeks. “Besides, late-night escorts aren’t in your job description.”

“It’s literally a part of my job description that I need to be near you or aware of your location at all times, especially for ‘late-night escorts.’” Tatum pinches the bridge of his nose. “What were you doing up this late anyway?”

“Writing a sonnet.” 

“This is not the time for you to joke around.”

“So it’s only okay to switch up when you do it. Got it.” She huffs, brushing past him and speed walking in the other direction. “I’m tired. Let’s go back.”

He’s quicker, grabbing her arm and turning her around to face him. He takes her face into his hands, the fury (concern?) in his already intense eyes setting her ablaze. “You can never do anything like this again. Am I clear?”

“Tatum, you made yourself perfectly clear when you told me that you never wanted to be back around me the first time.” Melisande scoffs, meeting his glower with one of her own. “I’m the last person that's going to endanger your cushy government job, alright? Can we be done here?”

“We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Good. Now let go.”

The morning after is rough, to say the least. There isn’t enough caffeine in the world to make Melisande a functioning human being on 3 hours of sleep or enough outfit changes in her closet to wait Tatum out. 

He’s not good at waiting—never has been—and he paces outside her door, as if he’s ticking down the seconds until she has to stop hiding. She can’t help but scoff; his method is questionable but the message is clear: I’m not letting you off the hook this time.

She eventually settles on a light blue blazer set and rushes out of her bedroom, making a beeline for the kitchen. Naturally, a toned arm blocks her way. “I need to get to class.”

“You’re not getting out of this.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but fine. We can talk now.” She drawled, ducking under his arm and turning on the coffee maker.  “You wanted to know why I left last night.” 

“As your bodyguard, I think you owe me that.”

“I needed time to think.”

“Don’t you have a room for that?”

“I wanted to be alone,” Melisande replied nonchalantly, only managing to resist the urge to shrug when she sees his nostrils flare. “It’s hard to do that when you have a shadow.”

“What are you doing?”

“Talking to you,” she allows the shrug this time, turning her head to meet his eyes as she pours her coffee. “Should I be doing something else?”

“Let me rephrase that: why are you acting out?”

Acting out? 

If Melisande was acting out, she’d have made herself a staple of the numerous house parties happening at Vancross. If she was acting out, she’d find Blaine Hayes and give her mother a scandal worth calling about. If she was acting out, she would have never agreed to come to the Vancross Institute to begin with. 

She didn’t deserve this.

“You can’t be serious. I leave the dorm once to clear my head and you’re treating me like a child.”

“Melisande—”

“This conversation is over.” 

“Like hell it is.” Tatum snaps. “In case you haven’t gotten the memo yet, you’re the daughter of a world leader, which means that you can’t leave in the middle of the night to clear your head on a whim without telling me. If there was even a one percent chance that someone who wanted to hurt you came here and I didn’t know where you were, I…” He pauses, then takes a breath. “I can’t do my job. It’s—”

“—your job to protect me. I know that.” 

“Then don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”

The earnest look in his eyes—definitely concern now—is enough to make her drop the act. “Alright. I’m sorry.”

He grunts, blinking the moment away, and she curses herself for the disappointment that courses through her veins. “Don’t be sorry, be careful.” 

“It’s too late for that.” Melisande shakes her head, too frustrated to cry and too tired to argue. “Far too late.”

It’s clear that he doesn’t understand what she means and she decides, then and there, that he would never know. The fates had aligned and made his position clear: she was an assignment to him. He could never know that she wanted more.

(It was far too late. For both of them.)

[notapaladin]

a king he was on carven throne (2/3)

The Emperor Ahuitzotl takes the throne. And Acatl.

...yeah this is pure smut.

Also on AO3!

-

The Revered Speaker’s chambers are very bright and very warm. It’s still the rainy season, after all, and the moonlight sparkles off the remains of the earlier downpour. In daylight the windows open onto a beautiful garden, blooming in a riot of color, but now the only evidence of their existence is a change in the texture of shadows and the reflection of glittering droplets of water like stars fallen to earth. (Stars that will never fall again.) The flickering torches—and there are many—spill their golden light through the windows, but they’re intended solely to illuminate the room.

And they do that admirably. The walls and columns have all been repainted since Tizoc’s death; the scenes of bloodstained captives and equally bloodstained gods he favored have given way to the rich blues and greens of the lake. Flowers march up the columns, bright flashes of orange and red, but everything else has turned...cool. Soothing. A perfect place for the Revered Speaker to rest his head. Chalchiuhtlicue holds pride of place in the middle of a wall-trimming frieze of ahuitzotls playing among the reeds. Acatl can’t see it, but he knows that somewhere there is a very small depiction of Lord Death tucked safely in a corner, and it makes his heart warm.

Tizoc’s bedding has been burned. There was a risk of contagion, Teomitl said, but Acatl thinks he just doesn’t want to sleep where his predecessor slept (where Acatl killed him). He can’t blame him. Instead there are freshly-tanned jaguar and ocelot pelts spread across intricately woven mats, with a few fine blankets folded neatly to the side in case the night turns chill; that’s impossible in the depths of summer, but then, the Revered Speaker shall want for no material comfort.

Acatl’s gaze sweeps his surroundings and dismisses them as unimportant. All his focus is on the man sitting on the bed. The Revered Speaker Ahuitzotl—his Teomitl, gods—is still dressed in all the finery of his coronation and the grand feast that followed it, and if possible he’s even more breathtaking than he was in daylight. His turquoise cape pools in rich folds on the mat, firelight making the feathers and thread of its intricate pattern shine like jewels. There are actual jewels sewn into the hem, coral alternating with mirrorlike squares of gold. More gold gleams on his fingers, his wrists, his ankles, and his usual small lip plug has been swapped for a much longer one of jade. The slender emerald rod piercing his septum is new; he’d flatly refused to wear the one Tizoc had died with.

And almost all of it is being stripped, slow and unconcerned. Or almost unconcerned; every so often he shoots a sly little glance Acatl’s way, checking to see if he’s still watching. As if Acatl could possibly tear his eyes away. Off come the rings, the arm bands, the cape. Out comes the lip plug, with a muttered curse. The emerald rod stays; the High Priest of Patecatl said healing spells over it, but it’s still only two days old. With a private, wicked smirk, the embroidered crimson loincloth falls as well.

He’s still wearing the Turquoise-and-Gold Crown. Acatl loves him so much it hurts.

But Teomitl hasn’t said he can approach yet; he’s still testing the limits of his new power, and he’d ordered Acatl to stay. He’s obeyed patiently, standing barefoot on stone tiles, and he’s shed only his cloak and rings. All the rest—the jade and silver beads in his hair, the silver bracelets and anklets—are staying on. Teomitl had said he looks beautiful in them. Acatl thinks he doesn’t spend enough time looking in a mirror. “My lord,” he breathes, when he can’t take it anymore.

Teomitl looks up, and his smile is like a rising sun. “Acatl. You’re too far away. Come here.”

He inhales. Licks his lips. Finally. “As you wish.”

He lowers himself to the dais slowly. Teomitl doesn’t help; he’s gazing at Acatl as though he’s some rare and precious treasure. Acatl doesn’t know how he can, not when he himself is a jaguar in human shape, all lazy languorous power. Even his presence is intoxicating. Acatl kneels over him, drunk on his proximity, but keeps his hands on the mat underneath them. For now.

Teomitl reaches for him first, a hand skimming Acatl’s jaw to pull him in. “Kiss me,” he murmurs.

His gaze drops to that lovely full mouth, but the emerald in Teomitl’s nose gives him pause. If nothing else, it’s a minor logistical problem. “...Are you sure?”

Teomitl wrinkles his nose automatically, and then winces. “It doesn’t hurt.” At Acatl’s unimpressed stare, he adds, “That much.”

He exhales. You never will accept your own limits, will you? But it makes him feel impossibly fond, even so. “Well, then.”

Their mouths meet. Slow at first; Teomitl may be eager, but he’s still sore, and Acatl is being as careful as he can. But then Teomitl’s hand slides up into Acatl’s loose hair and he moans out loud, and that breaks the spell. The hand in his hair tightens, all but yanking him in, and he goes willingly. The slide of their bodies together as he presses Teomitl—his Emperor!—down onto the mat is the sweetest torture he’s ever felt, hot and solid and perfect, and he spares a thought to regret that he’s still wearing a loincloth.

When Teomitl breaks the kiss, his clever, callused fingers immediately begin rectifying that dreadful oversight. He doesn’t even look at what he’s doing; his gaze is entirely fixed on Acatl’s face, as though he can’t get enough of looking at him. It’s nearly too much to bear, and Acatl feels himself blush. He can’t meet his eyes. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t. I’m just a man. But Teomitl keeps staring, and so finally he asks, “What?”

He doesn’t need to look at Teomitl to know he’s beaming. “Gods, Acatl, you...” There’s so much fondness in that voice—so much love—that his heart skips a beat. But then he’s properly naked, and he has more important things to think about; he rocks his hips, shuddering in pleasure at the friction of their half-hard cocks against each other, and Teomitl closes his eyes as he breathes, “You gave me a crown.”

Acatl shivers, and not just at the stimulation. “No. You earned your crown. I only made sure you could claim it.”

Teomitl kisses him again. This time it’s hard and rough and messy, and either Acatl rolls or he lunges but somehow they wind up with their positions reversed, Acatl flat on his back with jaguar fur tickling his ear and a carelessly discarded fortune in gold getting lightly caught in his hair. It barely registers next to the way Teomitl is touching him, hands skimming down over his hips and in to wrap around his cock. He’s achingly hard in an instant, shuddering at each teasing stroke.

“Mmm.” Teomitl’s grin shows sharp teeth as he settles between Acatl’s spread legs; his crown is askew, and it’s somehow the most erotic thing Acatl’s ever seen. “What say we celebrate my ascension properly?”

He sucks in a hard breath. Gods, yes. “Yes,” he whispers, and then Teomitl is reaching for the oil and he takes the moment of clarity due to those glorious hands not actually being on his body to ask, “How do you want me?”

Oil gleams on Teomitl’s fingers, golden as his crown. His smile is positively feral. “Like this.”

Acatl doesn’t try to bite back the noises that escape him when Teomitl’s fingers slide into him. They’ve been discreet since the beginning. Indeed, he’s spent so long being quiet that letting his voice out now sends his heart tripping a stuttery little cascade of embarrassment. But Teomitl is the Revered Speaker, and if he wants what he’s always saying he does—to hear Acatl scream—then Acatl has to obey. He can’t do anything else, not with the way Teomitl is working him open so damn slowly. “Ahh—nnh, please...” He rocks his hips, trying to urge him on, and finally gasps—pleads—“Faster.”

“No,” Teomitl whispers. “For once we have all night long, and I’m going to take advantage of it.”

“Teomitl!” he snaps, but then Teomitl’s fingers curl and lightning flashes through his veins and he bucks hard, grabbing up fistfuls of jaguar fur underneath him to have something to hang onto. “Oh—oh, my lord, please.”

But Teomitl doesn’t vary the movement of his hand at all. No, he just keeps working him, slow and careful and so deliciously slick, letting the heat and the hunger build in Acatl’s core until he’s letting out breathless little cries with each slide inwards. He’s past begging by now—you need words for that—but he doesn’t have to. Teomitl’s not that cruel, or that patient. He looks downright smug at the sight of Acatl’s legs falling open a little wider, and gives his hip an encouraging squeeze with his free hand. “Mmm. That’s it.”

Then Teomitl’s replacing his fingers with his cock and oh, maybe he hadn’t gone slow enough, but that’s alright. That’s more than alright. At a time like this, Acatl welcomes the stretch and the burn of being filled. Of being claimed. His eyelids flutter as he takes Teomitl deeper, arching his back—yes, there it is, the angle that sends sparks down his spine. “Gods,” he pants, and then, “My Emperor.”

“Yes,” Teomitl growls. Then he draws back—but before Acatl can do more than open his mouth, he thrusts back in, rough and hard enough to punch a cry out of him. “Yours.”

He sets a fast pace after that, and it’s all Acatl can do to hang on. His legs wrap around Teomitl’s waist, hiking his hips up at an angle that he knows his back won’t like in the morning, but right now he absolutely doesn’t care. It’s more important to cling to him, his nails marking half-moons in Teomitl’s back and his face buried in his shoulder. He mouths hard at Teomitl’s skin, not quite bites but certainly hard enough to bruise. He hopes that they do bruise, that his Emperor can carry the marks for a week.

He doesn’t have the focus for anything else. He doesn’t have the mind for anything else. Teomitl is driving that right out of him, and the only word he can find is a heartfelt, “Fuck.” Another thrust. Another. “Fuck.” And then, half choked out of him because Teomitl’s not so much as slowing down, pounding into him like he means to leave a permanent imprint of their bodies in the mats, “Gods—more.”

Teomitl grins, wild and bright. “More? Like this?” His hips snap forward, jarring a cry out of Acatl’s throat, and then he reaches down between their bodies and wraps a firm hand around Acatl’s cock. Acatl writhes, thrusting into his pumping fist, and Teomitl squeezes.

It’s too much. He comes with a near-scream, clawing down Teomitl’s back, and his lover snarls in his ear as he follows him over the edge.

Finally Teomitl pulls out with a shudder, eyes squeezing shut. He has to take a few deep breaths before he wrenches them open again. When he shakes his head, his crown finally falls off. “Duality preserve me. That was...”

“A wonderful beginning to your reign,” Acatl murmurs as Teomitl draws away. He’s not sure his legs will obey him yet, but luckily he doesn’t have to test that idea; Teomitl is cleaning them up gently, and all he has to do is shift positions as he’s directed. His eyes slide shut. There’s sweat drying on his skin, leaving him chilled—that’s why there are blankets laid out, he suspects—but Teomitl’s hands are so warm.

His lover will be a wonderful Revered Speaker. Huitzilopochtli’s magic flowed down over him like a cloak as soon as the Turquoise-and-Gold crown was placed on his head; Acatl, standing in the crowd below, had had to shield his eyes. He’d actually felt the boundaries settle into place, shivering as they solidified into something as solid as the walls of the Sacred Precinct or the painted ceiling above his head. For the first time in years, he’d drawn a deep breath. Yes, he’d thought, and now he thinks Yes again. He knows deep in his bones that not even the scandal of half a dozen foreign rulers failing to attend (gods, another sin to lay at Tizoc’s feet) will dent Teomitl’s might for long; already, there are plans to rededicate the Great Temple as it should be, with a river of blood flowing down the steps. He will erase Tizoc’s name as the sun burns away morning mist, and spread the Empire from one end of the world to the other. His army will march under the shade of the Southern Hummingbird’s wings, and He will laugh to see the carnage they bring.

And yet, for all that—oh, Acatl knows the shape of the soft caresses petting over the insides of his thighs, and it makes him smile. His Emperor will be magnificent, but underneath all the gold and turquoise will be the heart of a man who loves him. A man he’ll be proud to serve.

They’re both clean now; Teomitl has snuffed the torches, and it’s cooler still when the room’s lit only by moonlight, but he doesn’t have the time to feel cold. Not when Teomitl (his Emperor, his Emperor) stretches out on the mat by his side, the heat of his body like a furnace, and starts running his fingers through his hair. As he gently picks out some of the heavier jewels braided into it, Acatl yawns. He’s tired after their exertions, and the feeling is intensely soothing. Maybe there’s something to displaying his lover’s presents after all. “Mmm...”

He’s half asleep when Teomitl whispers, “Stay?”

It strikes him to the core—that Teomitl would ask, that Teomitl would think he has to ask. Oh, my love, he thinks, and out loud he says again, “Yes.”

When the sun rises, they greet it together.

[nightingiall]

head in the clouds: part iii

{story page}

“You know,” says Rory through a mouthful of popcorn, picking a stray kernel out of Spike’s fur. “I don’t think it’s healthy for Spike to be this large.” 

She doesn’t remember how exactly Niall Horan convinced her to come to his place to spend some time with Spike, especially after she’s been adamant on wanting nothing to do with this. They’d bumped into each other at, of course, a party, somewhere at the Residences, somehow ending up alone on someone’s balcony. They shared a joint and he said something that made her laugh so hard tears sprang to her eyes. And after he showed her some photos of his very large, stolen, perpetually frowning cat, it wasn’t long until she caved. 

And, now, here she is, two bottles of beer and a whole bowl of popcorn in, curled up into Spike on his couch with some true crime show playing on his television.

“How do you mean?” Niall is three bottles of beer in and is still going quite strong. Rory can’t deny that she’s impressed. 

She runs her fingers through Spike’s fur, smiling at the resulting purr the gesture elicits out of him. “Like, I’m pretty sure it’s not normal for him to be this size. And he drags his paws when he walks sometimes, like it’s a struggle for him.” 

When she looks up at Niall, he’s quirking an eyebrow at her, that stupid grin of his threatening to break through his features, and Rory just knows he’s about to say something that’ll have her rolling her eyes. “Rory Bhatt,” he draws out, and his voice is low and slow as he leans forward to narrow his eyes at her. She tries to ignore the swoop in her tummy at the way his accent lilts through her name, at the way the blue in his eyes appear brighter than she’s ever seen. “Are you fat shaming Spike?” 

She doesn’t know why she does it. Doesn’t even want to do it. But a laugh bubbles out of her so abruptly that Spike moves away from her and starts slithering towards Niall, clearly not appreciating being disrupted as he’s trying to take a nap. “No!” She has to clutch her stomach she’s laughing so hard, and she’d blame the beer but she’s not even drunk. 

Niall joins in regardless, scooping up Spike into his arms as he cradles him. “Did ol’ Rory offend you, Spikey boy?” he coos at him. He leans back into the armchair and the cat curls into his lap, purring contentedly the whole time.

“I’m just saying!” she attempts to continue, swiping at the moisture that’s collected beneath her lashes, and Niall’s full-on grinning at her now. “How many cats do you know have grown to that size? Maybe Dreyfuss wasn’t taking care of him properly.” 

Niall hums, looking at her thoughtfully now. Spike has already made himself comfortable, tail flicking once against Niall’s chest, and Rory has to hold back a laugh at the thought of Spike falling asleep and Niall not being able to move for the next hour or so. “Suppose you have a point,” is what he finally says, looking at Spike fondly. Rory startles for a moment at how tender the moment is, how gently his fingers skim across Spike’s fur, how closely he holds him. It’s a side of him she’s never seen. “But what should we do? We can’t exactly take him to a vet right now.” 

Rory ignores the we in his statement, figuring that she’s in way too deep now to be insisting that she doesn’t want to be a part of this. She wonders where his head is, though. He’s always annoyingly optimistic and preppy, but she also hopes that he understands the gravity of the situation he’s gotten himself into. “Well, what’s your long-term plan for Spike? Are you going to keep him once the summer’s over?” 

“Of course!” Niall gives her a look like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn’t rescue him from Dreyfuss for no reason ya know. Just because she’s rich and owns shit or whatever doesn’t mean she gets to treat her pets like shit.” There’s a fire in those blue eyes, lit up into the most electric hue, accent thickened significantly. He’s hypnotizing. Rory can’t tear her eyes away. “He’s mine now. Aren’t ya buddy?” he murmurs, voice all gentle and sweet now, like it always gets when he talks to Spike. “I won’t treat ya like ol’ Dreyfuss did. We’ll get you healthy in no time.” He looks up at Rory, smile intact. “Won’t we?”

Rory finds herself smiling back. For the first time, she feels as though she and Niall Horan might just get along. After all, he’s shown her nothing but kindness. And he may be annoying sometimes, with his loud, obnoxious laugh and terrible jokes, but his positive attributes are among the rare finds at Hightstown, especially with people their age. He’s incredibly attentive, has always been respectful of her boundaries, thoughtful, and overwhelmingly empathetic, even to a fault. Most of all, he has made her laugh in a way she hasn’t in a long time. So maybe, she thinks now, looking into those big blue eyes that always seem to reflect whatever light that gets thrown into them, helping him keep this cat a secret isn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Yeah,” is what she ends up saying, more conviction in her voice than she’s ever heard. “We will.” 

***

This is how it starts. Fiery hot summer days melting into cool, breezy nights. Racing to Niall’s place after their lifeguard shifts, giggling the entire way. Sharing beers and laughs over figuring out the best cat diet and getting Spike to be more active.

This is how it starts, and there are only 42 days of summer left. 

***

Rory is kind of drunk. 

Chester from the kitchen, an older man with kind eyes and a big personality who’s worked at Hightstown for as long as Rory can remember, had given her two bottles of wine that were from an extra shipment that came in by accident. She’d gone there to snag some extra meat and other scraps they could use to make something healthier for Spike to eat and ended up with an interesting tidbit of gossip from one of the assistant chefs. Apparently, Mrs. Dreyfuss was going crazy searching for her missing cat. She’d laughed it off then but quickly detoured to Niall’s place to let him know that he’d have to be more careful now that people may actually be keeping an eye out for a stray wandering around. 

Somehow, that turned into them sharing a few beers, then chasing Spike around the apartment for a while, luring him through the obstacle course Niall built for him before giving him his food and letting him rest. They’d learnt the hard way that Spike got impossibly irritated with them after they made him exercise, so they always give him some alone time afterwards so he can enjoy his food in peace. 

Now, they’re sprawled out on his floor, one bottle of wine already drained by the both of them, stomachs full from the chocolate-peanut butter cupcakes Niall made—another thing she’s learned about him, he’s an excellent baker. Her limbs feel all lax and sated. They’d fully intended only to drink a glass or two each, but the wine went down so smoothly, a burst of sweet tartness on her tongue, and before she knew it, the entire bottle was empty. 

“That was,” Niall slurs, and she can see from her peripheral that he’s rolling onto his side to face her, “the best wine I’ve ever had.” 

She finds herself giggling at his words. Stupidly, inanely, happily. “Agreed.” The ceiling looks as though it’s rippling like waves in an ocean above her, all long, fluid lines, the muted colors of white and brown swirling together. She rolls her head over only to find Niall looking at her already, that stupid grin plastered onto his face. His lips are stained cherry red from the wine, chocolate, brown hair looking incredibly soft as it sticks up in every direction, cheeks tinged a perpetual bubblegum pink, presumably from the alcohol thrumming through his system. It appears that she’s so drunk that she can look at him and only think of sweets. “You look ridiculous by the way,” is what ends up coming out of her mouth, even though she’s gone enough to admit to herself that she thinks anything but. 

Niall laughs at that, a loud, guttural cackle that reverberates off the walls and bounces around the entire apartment. It’s resounding and vibrant and it has the alcohol in her veins feeling like champagne bubbles instead of the velvety wine she actually consumed. She finds herself laughing too.   “What do I look like?” 

She simply stares at him for a moment, lower lips worried between her teeth, and she nearly wonders why she’s unable to formulate words before she’s realizing that she can’t tear her eyes away from that magnificent blue. They’re intoxicating, magnetizing, and if Rory weren’t already drunk she’d think that those eyes alone could get her wasted. She’d never looked close enough before, but there’s a ring of gold, right around his pupils, blending up into a bright, sapphire blue. Brilliant, soulful eyes that somehow sparkle in the light, that somehow look as though they held the entire universe, constellations of stars orbiting around in those deep pools of blue. 

“Rory.” He’s still laughing, waving his hands in front of her face, snapping her out of her thoughts and she blushes, wondering dumbly if he could somehow read her mind, skin tingling in mortification at the idea. “Don’t pass out on me now.” 

She rolls her eyes but giggles at the way he unwittingly hits his hand against the couch. “You look like…” She feels around for her phone so she could snap a photo and show him but she can’t find it anywhere. “Where’s my phone?” She shifts around to sit up and her head immediately starts to spin. She is so drunk. “I’ll just,” she mumbles, spotting the notebook and pen on his coffee table they’d been using to write down a recipe for Spike’s food and grabs it, “I’ll just draw you.”

“Ooohh.” Niall sits up too, limbs flailing around clumsily as he laughs at himself. He accidentally knocks over the empty bottle of wine that had been sitting between them, the action sending them into another fit of giggles. “Draw me like a French girl,” he slurs out through his amusement, grinning wildly at her as he shifts into a ridiculous pose, “or however that saying goes.” 

Rory can’t breathe from the way the laughter escapes her at the way he tries to pout seductively, tears springing to her eyes as she tries and fails to control it. “You’re such a dumbass.” Her fingers find the pen, dragging it across a clean sheet of notebook paper in short, quick strokes. It’s a hasty and slightly sloppy sketch of a boy who seems to have her laughing more than she ever has in her entire life. Of a boy who has a bright smile and a raucous laugh and a big, kind heart. “There,” she declares once she’s done, flipping the book around so he can see her creation, and it’s only when she’s paying attention again that she finds that they’ve unknowingly moved closer to one another. 

“I think I look quite good actually.” He’s still laughing. Rory wonders how he still has oxygen in his lungs left to do that, how he manages to make it take up the entire room. “But I think your hands can make anything look good.” He’s grinning at her but then his eyes go impossibly wide. “Because you’re a good artist!” he quickly clarifies. “Not anything dirty! That sounded like it could be dirty. But I just meant—”

He can’t finish because he’s curled up on the floor again, overtaken by another round of the giggles, and Rory’s sucked right into it, dropping the notebook because she’s laughing so hard. Niall’s all sprawled out, limbs knocking into hers, hand over his chest as a tear rolls down the side of his face, and Rory reaches out to swipe at it. But she’s drunk and is lacking coordination so she accidentally pokes him in the eye, falling into another bout of laughter because of the way he yelps. 

And they laugh and laugh until, somehow, his hands are in hers. Until, somehow, she’s falling into his limbs, warm, gangly legs tangled within hers. Until, somehow, they’re not laughing anymore, just looking at one another, all soft smiles and flushed cheeks, the spiral of the notebook poking into her side. Niall is still working through a giggle, the sound knocking around in his throat as he rubs his eye, leaning onto his elbow as he looks down at her, and it’s happening again, her getting lost in the wonder of his eyes. Until, somehow, he’s saying, “Is this the part where you kiss me?” 

Her eyes widen at him, heart skipping a beat in her chest. “What?”

There’s that grin again, wide and bright and blinding. “Isn’t that what happens in the movie?”

Another laugh threatens to break out of her throat. “What movie?”

“The ‘draw me like a French girl’ movie,” he says simply, shrugging. But he leans closer regardless. 

This time, she actually does laugh again. “Titanic?”

“That was Titanic?” He sounds skeptical, eyes going out of focus as he tries to remember the scene he’s talking about. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Niall, I’m pretty sure.” She rolls her eyes at him again. “And I’m pretty sure you’re getting the quote all wrong.”

He makes a face at her. “That’s not even the point, Rory.” 

She almost rolls her eyes again, a retort already sitting on her tongue. But it disappears when suddenly, her eyes are zeroing in on those wine-stained lips, and all she can think of now is how sugary and delicious they must taste, like the wine they just drank, like California grapes and chocolate-peanut butter cupcakes and whatever else he must taste like. “Your lips look like they taste like all the sweets in the world,” she blurts out, and immediately blushes at the sound of her own voice. 

Niall raises a brow at her, eyeing her a bit coyly as he unconsciously runs his tongue across his lower lip. Rory watches the action in a daze, humiliation at her drunken admission simmering away into a hot ball of desire, melting down her throat and into the pit of her stomach. When he speaks again, his voice is low and deep, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. “Wanna come over here and find out?”

And, god, she does want to lean over and find out. She really, really does. Because he’s so close and he smells clean, like lemongrass and lavender. Because it’s all she’s been thinking about the whole night. Because he’s joking around but is looking at her like he absolutely wouldn’t mind kissing her if she wants it too. 

But she can’t. She can’t let last summer happen again. 

So she forces a chuckle and shoves his face away and slyly says, “In your dreams, Horan.” Niall shoves her back and suddenly she’s actually laughing. “Wanna open the other bottle?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows at him. 

“You know I do.” He winks at her, already getting up to go find it, and Rory only allows herself to watch him go for a moment before following after him. “We should watch Titanic while we’re at it because now I need to know how that scene actually goes.” 

Rory starts laughing at that, wondering if he’s ever actually seen the movie because she figures that any guy would remember a scene where Kate Winslet stripped her clothes off so Leo DiCaprio could sketch her wearing only the fancy necklace that everyone in that movie was obsessed about. When she gets to the kitchen, Spike is still curled up in his food corner, licking at his paw, clearly still mad at them. She frowns at him for a moment, wondering if perhaps they were going about this the wrong way. 

Niall must see her face because he says, “Don’t worry about Spike, he’s just being pissy.” He smiles at her when gets closer, reaching out to playfully nudge at her chin. “I FaceTime’d my cousin who’s a vet and she said that a little exercise won’t hurt and to not let him guilt us into letting him get out of it. Turns out cats are smart little buggers.” 

As if replying to Niall, Spike meows lowly from his corner, and the two of them burst into a fit of giggles again. “Hey, have you seen my phone by the way?” she asks, suddenly remembering its absence earlier. 

He twists the wine opener into the cork, looking around before gesturing behind him. “Is that it on the counter over there?”

Sure enough, when she looks over, there it is. She’s surprised to see how late it’s gotten when she turns it on. The surprise quickly melts away into dread at the notification telling her that she missed four calls from her mother, one voicemail waiting for her. She sighs as she opens it up, forgetting how annoyed her mom always got whenever she didn’t answer the phone. The past few weeks have been good because Rory actually remembered to call her every night. And if she was too tired to call then she’d send a text saying as much. But with radio silence tonight, her mom must have been pissed. 

Rory opens the voicemail and presses the phone to her ear to hear it, but her mom always talks irritatingly low on the phone so she has to turn the volume up and start it over. “Hey, sweetheart,” comes her mom’s voice through the speaker, and to Rory’s surprise, she actually doesn’t sound upset. “Nani came over today and wanted to talk to you, hence the many calls. You’re probably busy but she’s here for the next day or so, so call me back whenever you’re free. Love you, Aurora.” There’s a rustle of movement before she speaks again. “Nani says she loves you too. Talk soon.” 

The message ends and Rory figures that she’ll call back tomorrow when she’s sober and actually has time to talk. So she shoots her mom a text telling her as much, apologizing for good measure. She knows she didn’t get yelled at because her Nani was around. 

“Aurora?” comes Niall’s voice from behind her. When she turns around to face him, he’s looking at her all surprised. She’d forgotten they were standing in the same room before she played the message out loud. “I’m learning so much about you today.” The beginnings of a laugh are threaded into the seams of his voice, and Rory can’t even find it in herself to be annoyed that he now knows her actual name. Harry and Leslie don’t even know, and they’re some of her best friends. He smirks at her, sending her a wink, saying, “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” 

Her skin begins to burn at his words, and she’s glad that her hair is down because she knows even her ears are turning bright red. “I don’t go by that name,” she mumbles out, pocketing her phone and moving towards him to grab the now opened wine bottle, pouring a generous amount of the deep red liquid into their glasses.

Niall’s looking at her curiously, but it’s not the judgemental kind that Rory nearly expects from everyone. “Why not?”

She shrugs, but can’t come up with an answer. There isn’t really a big story behind why she prefers to be called Rory. She’s just always thought that it fit her better. “Aurora was always too prim and proper for me I guess.”

At that, Niall laughs, taking his glass and leaning against the kitchen island where they’re standing. “Why, because it’s a Disney princess name?”

She laughs back, leaning against the island as well, flipping her hair back over her shoulder just for something to do. “Well that definitely didn’t help. But, I don’t know.” Her mind searches for a memory of having a bad experience with the name and none comes up. Everyone’s just always called her Rory except for her mom. But that was always because she’d told them to. “I just never felt like an Aurora. I always wanted people to call me Rory.”

When she looks up at him again, his face is softened up around the edges and he’s smiling that fond sort of smile at her that he usually reserves for Spike. Or maybe she’s imagining it. Maybe she’s too drunk. “Well,” he starts, voice a mere whisper in the already quiet kitchen, and it makes her lean in just to hear him. He leans in too, hand coming around to rest on the island ledge beside her, and she’s suddenly thinking about kissing him again. “I think ‘Rory’ is beautiful too.” And the way he says it makes her heart stop, makes her mind go blank as she gets lost in those eyes again, wide open pools of honesty and sweetness and what also looks like affection. But then he clinks his glass against hers and the spell, once again, is broken, and she’s crash landing back to earth. “Cheers,” he murmurs, still smiling at her, still leaning into her space ever so slightly. 

Rory smiles back, but she doesn’t make a move, knows she won’t. Not after last year. Not after falling for a boy who made her feel like she could float up into the sky only to turn around and break her heart. So she simply says, “Cheers” back and they quietly sip their wine before somehow finding their way back to the living room. 

They end up finishing off the second bottle, wine glasses abandoned on the table in favor of passing the bottle itself between them, and getting way too drunk to even get through Titanic, instead sprawling out on the couch, Rory on one end and Niall on the other, sharing stories they’ve accumulated over the course of the summer and laughing their heads off. At one point, Niall nearly falls off the couch and Rory nearly spits wine into his face so, yeah, they’re wasted.

They’re currently dying over an impression by Niall of Mrs. Dreyfuss when she realized Spike went missing, and Rory doesn’t know how she still has the energy or lung power to laugh as hard as she has. She’s wiping streaks of tears from her eyes when Spike finally crawls in next to them, curling up into their tangled feet in the middle of the couch, and both she and Niall start cooing affectionately at him before they realize how stupid they sound and start giggling again. 

“I really love it when you laugh,” Niall says suddenly, and when she looks up at him, he’s leaning his head against the back of the couch and watching her with a soft smile. “You, like, light up.” He makes a gesture with his hands to mimic sparks and Spike makes a sound that, to Rory’s drunken mind, sounds almost like agreement. “This whole summer, all I wanted to do was make you laugh.” 

She doesn’t know what to do except roll her eyes and toss a pillow from the ground at him. Her skin always feels impossibly warm whenever he throws a compliment at her, and she’s starting to think that he’s just doing it to watch her go red. “You’re drunk,” she says, still laughing a bit. 

Niall tosses it right back at her, and it hits her square in the chest. “But it’s true! You and Spike could have been twins with the way you were always frowning.” 

Rory looks at Spike, who is indeed frowning, and she gasps, feigning offense. “That’s so mean!” She throws the pillow at him again, narrowly missing Spike, who watches her almost warily. “But also probably true.” They laugh again, and every time Rory thinks she simply cannot laugh anymore, something happens and it just bubbles right out of her. Once they’ve finally settled down, silence overtaking them for a few moments, Rory slides down to make herself more comfortable on the couch, eyes trained up at the ceiling, which once again looks like fragments in her drunken vision. 

She closes her eyes and just feels the alcohol pumping through her system. Just feels the way she’s light and airy and carefree. Just feels how good it is to be here, laughing away at everything and nothing with Niall, like there isn’t anything else that matters. Just feels how Spike’s warm fur is curled up against one of her legs and Niall’s fingers are tracing circles along her ankle on the other and smiles to herself because it all just feels so right. 

“You know,” she starts, voice slightly slurred but also slow and quiet in the sudden calmness that’s enveloped the living room. “I wasn’t going to come back this summer.” The words flow out of her naturally, and once she starts talking, she realizes that it’s something she should get off her chest, once and for all. “Which is actually crazy now that I think about it because I’ve been working here for as long as I can remember, and everyone here is like family.” She thinks of Gigi and Harry and Leslie and Chester and all the other staff who have basically seen her grow up. Summer would not have been the same without them. It wouldn’t have felt right. “I was afraid...that things would be different. After last summer.” But she stops herself before she says too much. 

Niall is apparently very perceptive though, because he says, “Someone hurt you, didn’t they?” His voice is hushed and gentle, and when she shifts her head to look at him, he’s watching her carefully. 

“Why?” she asks back, feeling wary all of a sudden. “What have you heard?” She feels like she’s been asking him that a lot lately.

He shrugs, looking down at Spike, who seems to have fallen fast asleep. “Nothing. It’s just,” he’s shrugging again, as though attempting to fill up the space between his thoughts and his words, trying to get them right. And when he looks at her, there’s something in his eyes that she recognizes, even though the space is dimly lit, the only light coming from the lamp at the far side of the room. “I see it, sometimes. In the way you carry it, in your shoulders.” At his words, she suddenly realizes how tense she’s become and relaxes into the pillows slightly, but not tearing her eyes away from him. “You get this look sometimes. When someone says something and you want to laugh but then don’t, as if realizing you shouldn’t. Or when we’re at a party or event and you tense up because you start to realize you’re having fun.” 

Rory doesn’t know how Niall Horan has noticed all these things about her. Doesn’t realize all these things about her even existed. But it’s sort of eye-opening. She’s spent this entire summer feeling sorry for herself, feeling insecure over what others might have thought of her after last year, that she’s forgotten how to have fun. Forgotten why she even loves this place. 

“Sorry,” Niall’s suddenly saying, eyes widening as though he regrets the words that just left his mouth. Rory realizes that silence has stretched between them for minutes and she was too lost in her thoughts to notice. “I didn’t mean to cross a line or anything just—”

“No,” she says, and tries to sound reassuring but instead it sounds sluggish and slurred, her tongue heavy in her mouth. “No, you’re right. I—” She sighs, looking up at the ceiling again, hands folded over her tummy. “I guess I just didn’t realize that I became this person that...I didn’t even want to become.” 

Niall gives her a moment to mull over her thoughts before he says, “I don’t think you realize how much of an impact you have on people.” His fingers are tracing random shapes into her ankle now. Rory wonders if he even realizes he’s doing that or if the gesture is just absentminded. “Everyone here loves you.” 

And for once, she allows his words to take on the meaning he intends, allows them to wash over her bones and settle into that Shack boy-sized hole in her heart left from the summer before. She is more than her heartbreak. She can rise from it and move on.

“Thanks, Niall,” she murmurs after a moment, and as she smiles up at the ceiling now, she can feel herself being pulled into sleep, limbs feeling lethargic and heavy from the day’s events and the silky smooth wine buzzing through her. “Tonight was fun. I needed that.” 

She doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s smiling too. “Good night, Rory.” 

And silence blankets them for a final time that night, wrapping around them snug and warm. Just two people and a cat, all tangled together, slow, deep breaths lulling them into a state of calm until they listen to sleep’s call and drift off to dreamland.

***

“When are you going to tell me about what’s happening between you and Niall Horan?”

Gigi’s waggling her eyebrows at Rory from where she’s sitting at their kitchen table the next day, sipping on a cup of coffee, and it reminds her too much of a similar conversation they had at the beginning of the summer. 

Except this time, a searing heat cascades across her skin, her cheeks prickling with the telltale signs of a blush, and she’s glad to be holding up a book so Gigi can’t see the way her skin is undoubtedly turning red. “Nothing is going on between me and Niall Horan.” 

There are 40 days of summer left, and that feels like the biggest lie Rory’s ever told.

--

tell me what you think! :)

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 4: Bust A Move •

TRIGGER WARNINGS: sexual assault implications. This very first scene with Beverly involves her and her father, and her fear of him doing something to her. If you'd like to skip I have marked the end of the encounter with this: [●●●] When you see this marker, that means it is over and you can read the rest of the chapter in peace. This chapter will begin with this scene so if you are skipping, proceed to scroll until you see the marker.

A/N: you certainly will not hurt my feelings if you skip the scene. This was a very difficult mindset to get into myself and I struggled a lot emotionally with writing it. But I promise, the rest of the chapter is heartwarming and fun and overall is the foundation of friendships and significant to Y/n's arc, her induction into the Losers Club [including her link to Henry and what "makes her a loser" and the budding relationship between her and Eddie.

WORD COUNT: So big I had to add a word count, 7849. Oof, take some breaks peeps.

×××

    With a terrible sinking feeling and a churning stomach, Beverly walked through her front door. She tightened her grip on the plastic bag she held behind her back, praying her father wasn't around to see what she had bought. As she crept through her apartment, scanning for any signs of life, she absentmindedly heard the words of the children's program echoing throughout the residence.

    "Toilet and bath water travel down the drains and into the sewer." The front closed, not as quietly as Bev had hoped. "The sewer is a fun place to play with all of your friends. Just follow the water into the drains and down into the sewers you go."

     The words of the cheerful program hostess echoed off the walls and went unnoticed by Bev. "When you're with your friends in the sewers, you can be as silly as a clown!"

    She poked her head cautiously into the living room, it was empty.

   "That's right, it's the word of the day."

    Bev walked quickly and briskly down the hall, nearing the safety of the bathroom when the large looming figure of her father appeared. Beverly met his eye, fear settling in her chest as she gulped.

    "Hi, Daddy." Her voice came out in a choked whisper, a side only her father could bring out in her.

    "Hey, Bevvie." His eyes flickered down at her grocery bag and back up at her. "Whatcha got there?"

    Her eyes fluttered down to the concealed box of tampons in the bag, knowing, no, dreading this day. This is what she had feared would happen. Why, she cursed herself. Why the fuck hadn't she just done this in the safety of Y/n's apartment?

    "Just some things,"

    "Like what?" He took the bag from her hands and rifled through.

    He grinned suddenly and his eyes zeroed in on Bev. She felt her whole body stiffen in terror. He knew now. And there was no telling what he would do. Her eyes drifted to the wall behind him, and there they stayed, much too frightened to look him in the eye. His rough and calloused hand touched the side of her face and she fought her instincts to recoil, knowing better.

    He brought her in close, and he closed his eyes. He took a long lingering sniff of her hair and she felt the icy cold grip of fear grasp her heart. Tears pooled in her eyes and his hand fell to her long red hair, and he now held it in his palm. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, fear prickling her skin and he stroked her red locks with his thumb, possessively.

    "Tell me you're still my little girl."

   Two little words, she told herself. Two little words she had to say and it and he would be on his way. Hopefully.

    "Yes, Daddy."

    "Good."

    His palm returned to the side of her face, and he motioned her away. A flooding sense of relief washed over her and she slipped around him and disappeared into the safety of the bathroom.

    Her palms gripped the sink, and the running faucet almost completely covered the noise of her distraught sobs. Her salty tears that fell from her cheeks landed in the sink and were carried down the pipes along with the rest of the running water. A long and slender pair of silver scissors lay next to her palm on counter. With a shaky hand, she brought the scissors up to her loose hair.

    The hair that he strokes, the hair that he smells, and the same fucking hair that draws every unwanted eye in town, including her own father. Grasping a long lock of hair, she hesitated. Only once. But countless memories flooded her at once. How many times he looked at her, how he looked at her. No. No more.

    She snipped a lock of hair and she smelled the whiff of freedom it brought. The feeling disappeared just as quickly as it had come but and was soon replaced by more spite. Spite and fear.

    "This is what you did," she whispered, cutting another chunk of hair. "This is what you..."

    She grabbed another chunk of hair, eagerly. Desperately.

    "This,"

    Another lock gone.

    "And this,"

    She kept her eyes on the sink, watching wisps of orange hair circle the drain before disappearing. She angrily grasped larger chunks of hair, working feverishly. The hair fell from her head so fast, it began to pile up in the sink. Sobs racked her body and her hand returned to her head and she realized there was no more.

    For the first time she let her herself look at her reflection. There stood a sad and frightened young girl. Beverly ran a hand through her shortened hair, lingering on her scalp as she adjusted to the new feeling. Her once long and gorgeous head of hair was no more, choppy and uneven curls was all that was left. It was short and messy, not unlike hair she'd find on most boys at her school.

    Good.

[●●●]

    Y/n didn't know why she bothered looking in her drawers for clothes, she barely had any in the first place. Decent clothes at least, just about everything she owned was second hand and it was not uncommon that they were torn slightly in places.

    She wondered why the hell she was nervous in the first place. Then her fingers found the familiar nylon of the swimsuit fabric, and she sighed. Right.

    Y/n and Bev had agreed to go swimming with a bunch of boys they barely knew. It wasn't that hard to connect the dots when they mentioned where they were going, it was the quarry after all. But it never quite dawned on her until now, that she was going swimming with several boys she barely knew. Even though Bev would be there, that wasn't exactly a comfort. She never quite had her friend's confidence.

    Despite her home life and all the nasty whispers that floated through town, Beverly didn't let it affect how she saw herself, a quality Y/n admired. The same couldn't quite be said for herself. She could barely afford to go to school at Derry High, her family worked paycheck to paycheck just to send her to school. And she didn't like to talk about it, but Beverly had time and time again lent her money for little things that she couldn't afford herself. In fact, she had a few old jackets and shoes that Beverly had given her.

    The two girls were more than thankful for their friendship, both a perfect fit for one another, like two pieces of a puzzle. Each of them were able and willing to give the other what they could provide, whether it was some borrowed money, or a safe haven away from a leering father, and of course a never ending source of love and support. But of course, occasionally, no matter how hard she fought, the little green monster wormed its way into her mind. It always managed to pluck her most treasured memories with Bev, and stain it with jealousy, rotting it with envy and disgust. It picked at her confidence and fed her venomous lies that completely contorted their friendship.

    Like the only reason people knew about her was because she was friends with Beverly. It was the beautiful Beverly Marsh and ol' What's Her Face. She would occasionally catch herself wishing she could draw attention like that, but she quickly dismissed it. No, she shook her head, ridding herself of the thought, no it's not worth it. She reminded herself of all the horror stories she had heard from Bev, and had witnessed for herself, in the many years of their friendship.

    Sure, she was easily noticed by cute guys at her school, and that was fun and exciting at her age, but she was also noticed by older men. Men like Mr. Keene, and he was only one example in dozens of men all over town. Not to mention her own father. Any time the little green monster returned, it diminished itself in the pity Y/n felt for her best friend. But that didn't mean it wasn't hard for Y/n to hear the many names she had been called. "Filthy little tramp!"

    And not to mention the countless side glances followed by surprise from boys - and girls - that she had in fact been there standing next to Bev the whole time, and they only just noticed her. She was always the sidekick. "So ditch the street rat and we'll go to the movies, you and me."

    Anytime anybody thought she couldn't hear them, they spoke ill of her. Hell, not even then, most people didn't care if she overheard. Usually, they were trying to persuade Bev in one way or another to leave her behind.

   "What is she, your little puppy dog? Just tell her you're sick or somethin' and you're home free,"

   "Look, you're friend seems... nice, but she doesn't fit in with us. Either come alone or don't come at all."

    Of course, Beverly never bought into that crap. Y/n was too important to her, she was Beverly's saving grace after all. And there was no way in hell she would let anyone talk about Y/n that way.

   "Then I guess I'm not coming." She'd reply. "If you really need a date so bad just take the stick up your ass,"

    Y/n smiled at the memory. Oh, how she relished in the shock on their faces. That particular comeback had them running away with giddy laughter as they wove through the halls, the angry trio of boys after them. They found sanctuary in a small hiding spot behind the school where they remained until the trio gave up and went home with slightly deflated egos.

    This was another reason Y/n was ashamed to have these thoughts, Beverly clearly cared for her and would be very upset to know she thought these things of herself.

    As Y/n pulled her worn out jean shorts over her bathing suit, she searched her bed for the t-shirt she had set aside. She slipped it on and as she looked in the slightly cracked mirror she felt a small bud of confidence blooming in her chest.

    Beverly had her back, and she had hers. And she knew if Richie ever made some comment about her, Bev would shut it down if she hadn't first. The bud of confidence spread in her chest as she could feel herself being persuaded.

    That was, until she noticed the tag on the outside of her shirt. She sighed exasperated, and quite frankly, rather exhausted. Y/n hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night. If she tried hard enough, she was able to push the memory to the back of her mind and forget, but only for the day. Then of course, if was time for her to go to bed. Then every detail of what she saw, what she felt, was amplified in the silence of her room. She flinched at every creek in the walls, every car that passed by.

    And she didn't dare move her feet out from under her blankets, no matter how hot she felt. Of course, this ended up being one of the reasons it was difficult to fall asleep.

    Y/n counted herself lucky she fell asleep at all. And yet, the thought of being unconscious, completely unguarded and unprepared, where anything could happen - anything could get her - was just as unsettling. She wished Beverly was there with her, but she knew she had to sleep alone eventually.

    Right on cue, she heard the soft rap on wood come from down the hall in the living room. Beverly was here. Casting one last glance at her reflection, and her shirt now fixed, Y/n took a deep breath and made her way to the front door. She made the mistake of glancing at the carpet and the faded red stain and she felt a sudden prick of fear in her heart and the sudden hyper-awareness of her injury. Trying not to give it much thought, she took a deep breath returning her attention to the door, swiftly stepping over the spot on the carpet.

    Her attention focused on undoing the many locks on the door, she failed to notice her friend's new look through the window. It came as quite a surprise to Y/n, having only known Beverly with long hair. She would have brought it up if it wasn't for the look on Beverly's face.

    Her eyes were on the ground and when the door opened, Bev slowly met Y/n's eye. She recognized the look in Bev's eye, a look that screamed 'I really don't want to talk about it right now.' A look she had given to her not too long ago herself. Y/n plastered on a smile and broke the small moment of silence.

    "You ready?"

×××

    Richie Tozier does not hold back when it comes to spitting contests. Himself, Stan, Bill, Ben, and Eddie were standing at the cliffs edge, stripped down to their underwear and Richie was first up to bat. He did not shy away from whatever method he needed to conjure the spitball, no matter the foul noises he made in the process. He reeled back and launched the spitball over the cliff, and the rest of the boys followed suit.

    Eddie flinched when his own mucus landed on the rocks near his feet.

    "Oh, my God, that was terrible. I win." Richie exclaimed.

    Eddie looked at him, dumbfounded. "You won?"

    "Yeah."

    "Did you see my loogie?"

    "That went the farthest!" Richie argued, gesturing where he spit. "It's by distance."

    "Mass. It's always been mass."

    Richie began sputtering in disbelief, but Eddie continued.

    "Who cares how far it goes? It matters how cool it looks, like it's green or it's white or juicy and fat."

    Ben cringed, and he met eyes with Bill who gave him a look that said 'see what I have to put up with?' He shook his head, shutting down the conversation before it continue further.

    "Who's first?"

    There was a brief moment of silence and the boys looked over the cliff into the emerald waters, contemplating the jump.

    "I'll go!"

    They turned their heads to see Beverly Marsh and Y/n L/n. Beverly had been the one to speak and she dropped her bike to the ground before discarding her dress. Their eyes widened and Beverly smiled.

    "Sissies," she laughed.

    She broke into a light jog, the boys parting like the red sea and she launched herself off the cliff.

    "What the fuck!" Richie exclaimed.

    They looked at the water in which Beverly had disappeared, completely dumbfounded. Suddenly and in perfect sync, they looked to Y/n, almost expecting to see her do something equally surprising but she merely gave them an odd look. She set down her bike and shifted on her feet uncomfortably.

    "What?"

    They all broke out of their gaze, rather obviously, and tried to look anywhere but her, knowing they'd been caught.

    She had to remind herself that she wasn't the only one who would be undressed, and everyone else, besides herself, already was. Taking advantage of their distracted nature, she quickly slipped off her shorts and t-shirt, making sure to slip out of her shoes as well.

    "Come on!" Beverly's voice was distant, but it grabbed everyone's attention.

    Bill was the next to make the jump, followed by Ben. Next was a less than eager Stan, leaving Richie, Eddie and Y/n who had cautiously joined them at the edge. Richie looked between Eddie and Y/n, then back to the water.

    He sighed deeply, taking a step forward and removing his glasses, and tossing them on his pile of clothes.

    "Well, fuck" He took a deep breath and jumped off the cliff, leaving Eddie and Y/n alone.

    They shared an equally nervous look with a few uneasy smiles. Y/n peered over the edge, scanning the water for a safe space to land. As she waited for the moving figures of Richie and Stan swimming away from the landing zone, Eddie couldn't help but look at her. Observing the small crinkle of her brow and how unsure she felt, he felt his own fears vanish. Something inside him wanted to make her feel less nervous, and perhaps that was his own way of deflecting his own fears but he didn't care.

    "I'll go if you go," he offered.

    She looked at him in slight surprise, and a small smile tugged at her lips. Y/n looked between Eddie and the water, shifting weight off of her bad leg. This smile was less forced, and genuine, it was thankful. And Eddie felt a wave of nerves bubbling in his stomach, not at the jump, but the kindness in her eyes, and the way she mentally built herself up.

    She nodded and they both gazed at the lake below, everyone was looking at them now. They had cleared a space and Eddie and Y/n could hear the remarks being made by their friends.

    "On three?" She asked, quirking a brow.

    "On three." He nodded, backing up slightly. "One,"

    Y/n suddenly shook her head, stepping back and spoke at a rapid rate, cutting Eddie off.

    "Fuck, if I wait that long I'll change my mind. Let's go," Without warning, she grabbed his hand and jumped off the cliff, giving him no choice but to jump with her.

    It never even occurred to Eddie that he could have let go of her hand.

    Eddie felt his heart leap into his throat and he was certain time stopped still as he was suspended in air. Perhaps it was the sudden change in view and the fact he was practically pulled off the cliff and how high he was above the water, or maybe it was her hand around his - no, nope. It was the height, definitely the height.

    On their way down he gasped in fear at the rapidly approaching water and he felt her hand leave his as she braced for impact. Eddie tried not to think of the millions of germs in the water, and he could feel the thousands of bubbles grazing his body as he sunk deeper into the water. When he emerged he gasped for air, reminding himself to steady his breathing, less he have an asthma attack. He realized his throat was sore and that he must have screamed the whole way down.

    He looked round at the cheering figures of his friends, whooping and cheering them on. Though he tried not to panic when he counted only five figures above the surface. Just before he could ask where she was, Y/n burst out of the water next to Ben, gasping for air.

    "Holy shit!" She wiped her face with her hand, clearing the drops of water obstructing her vision.

    "Took you long enough," Bev smirked.

    Richie nodded. "Yeah, too bad you guys missed out. We were just about to pack it up and call it a day."

    Eddie rolled his eyes and Y/n sunk further into water, all the way up to her nose.

Y/n concentrated on kicking her legs and her arms moved back and forth under the water keeping herself afloat. The others, specifically Richie and Eddie, had already launched into another debate.

    "Do you have any idea, how filthy this water is. We'll be lucky if we don't contract something, I am serious right now. So forgive me if I am a little hesitant to jump into this cesspool of germs and bacteria. Not to mention the several loogies that are floating around here somewhere, or did you forget already?"

    "Oh sure, now you're worried about loogies, Mr. 'juicy and fat'"

    Bev, who had begun looking around her in confusion and slight concern, spoke up. "Loogies?"

    "Juicy and fat?" Y/n asked disgusted, her face scrunched up, looking questioningly between Richie and Eddie.

    Eddie blinked once, and shook his head. Desperate to change the subject, he diverted his attention back to Richie, pretending Y/n hadn't heard that.

    "Besides, if we weren't careful enough, we could have seriously hurt ourselves jumping from that height. Even if we knew there were no rocks in the water, a fall from from anything higher and we could have died, I'm not doing that shit again. If you want to go swimming, fine by me, but I'm not jumping anymore, I'll just meet you guys down here."

    "Don't be such a drama queen Eds, you jump a million times if it meant you had a pretty hand to hold on the way down and you know it, "

    Y/n looked to Richie, her brows furrowing and she was thankful the water was already concealing her pink cheeks. Eddie, unfortunately did not have the same luxury.

    "Fuck you, Richie,"

    Richie smirked. "Eddie, please, now's not the time for romance."

    Eddie's face scrunched up and he splashed Richie in the face, who had began chuckling at his friends response. Immediately, he retaliated with a splash of his own. Unfortunately, it hit Stan who frowned, and splashed back. It wasn't long before the entire group was involved, save for Y/n who was giggling off to the side where she was free of any water hitting her face.

    "Alright, alright," Stan waved his arms around, signaling for a truce. "Alright!"

    Everyone settled down and the water began to calm.

    "We should-" Stan was briefly interrupted by splash to the face, and he stopped to glare at Richie and sighed, wiping his face. "Chicken, we have enough people, who wants to play?"

    "Me against wheezy first," Richie jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at Eddie, who had in fact been wheezing. "I need to defend my title and he made it awfully clear last time he thought he could take me,"

    "I can asshole, I already told you. I had an asthma attack, if I hadn't I would have won and you know it."

    "Wanna prove it?"

    "Oh, it is so on, dickhead. Same circumstances, same partners, Stan come on!"

    Already regretting his decision to bring it up, Stan fell in line with the others as they entered shallow waters. Bill lifted Richie on his shoulders, and Stan lifted Eddie. Beverly had swam over to join Y/n and the two girls watched the chicken fight with great amusement.

    Y/n almost didn't notice the quiet figure of Ben, who had joined them off to the side. He had been neglecting to speak, but she recognized the longing look of wanting to fit in. She smiled, and swam over to join him. He seemed surprised she had joined him, but he returned the smile, albeit a bit nervously.

    "How's your stomach, Ben?"

    "Huh?" Ben gave Y/n a funny look, but before she count point out his stomach injury, it seemed to click "Oh! Oh, yeah, uh, it's feeling better, thank you. What about you? H-How's your leg?"

    "Better, thank you."

    A genuine smile tugged at her lips, feeling herself relax at the company of the boy. Y/n had barely known him, but she was intuitive enough to know that he was timid and kind. And though she was enjoying the new company of the other boys, it was nice to have a more relaxed presence. Though there was Stan, but Y/n had yet to get to know him.

    Their attention was pulled back to the chicken fight when they heard a sharp yelp and felt the water shift around them. And there sitting atop Stan's shoulders, waving his arms triumphantly was Eddie, whooping and hollering.

    A smirk grew on Y/n's face at this. It only grew wider when Richie emerged.

    "Foul!" Richie exclaimed, pointing at Eddie and shifting effortlessly into another persona. "Aaaaand Kaspbrak is outta the game!"

    "What? What the hell are you talking about?" Eddie asked, waving his arms slightly.

    "You pushed me, that's a foul."

    "That's the whole premise of the game! Of course I pushed you!"

    "You know what I mean, dillhole, you shoved my shoulders! That's a foul!"

    "No, that's allowed. The attackers get to use any means necessary to knock the opposer down, that's stated very clearly in the rules!"

    "Show me this rule book Eds, cause it's sounds an awful lot like you're making this shit up just because you can't win without playing dirty!"

    "Or maybe you just can't stand the fact that I beat you! I'm the one with the title now, aren't I?"

    "Oh, is that so-?"

    Ben, who had been growing uncomfortable from the heated argument, spoke up nervously. At least he tried to, but Y/n was the only one who heard him so she cleared her throat, grabbing everyone's attention. Ben seemed relieved.

    "Why don't we just do new teams?"

    "G-good idea," Bill spoke up, and he looked around the small group. "W-who wants t-to go next?"

    "Oh, I want to play!" Bev smiled walking against the water into the shallower parts of the water, but she stopped briefly, looking over her shoulder. "Ben, do you want to be my partner?"

    Ben tried to hide his blush, and he shyly nodded his head. "Uh, sure, yeah."

    Ben joined her, but she began looking around. "Alright, who's opposing?"

    Beverly caught Y/n's eye, and gestured hopefully over. Y/n smiled nervously and shook her head, her lips pressed into a firm line, and Bev shrugged.

    "Alright then, Richie, why don't you play us, if you're clearly an expert."

    "Gee, I would but my shoulders are killing me, I think I'm out for the season,"

    "Grow up, asshole, just go." Said Eddie, who had dismounted Stan's shoulders.

    "Well, since you asked so nicely," Richie said. "Bill, you're up."

    "W-why don't we let someone else g-go?"

    "Why? S'the matter with you?"

    Bill shrugged. "N-nothing. Just thought I'd l-let someone else go."

    Richie gave him an odd look but shrugged it off. "Fine,"

    Richie then spotted a Y/n, at least who he assumed was Y/n - he didn't have his glasses after all - who was hiding in the water, despite how shallow it was. It finally clicked that she had barely said a word since, well, since she and Bev showed up, he realized. She seemed different, she held herself differently than how she was in class. In class, she usually was able to keep up with his quick wit. He never told her this, but he enjoyed her company. He pegged her as someone who was quick witted and didn't take shit from anyone, and he admired that.

    But now she was quiet and reserved. Hell, she must be sitting on her ass right right now just to stay under the water. Richie didn't understand this. Now facing her, he dug his hand in the water and splashed her face, ripping her out of her thoughts, and she looked at him startled.

    She had to wipe away the fresh water droplets running down her face, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

    "What the hell?"

    "Come on, I need a partner and Denbrough bailed. You're up."

    She scoffed, slinking deeper into the water.

    "Come on, whatya', chicken?" He quipped, quirking an eyebrow.

    If he knew anything about this girl, she wasn't one to shy away went it came to making a comeback. Sure enough, she rolled her eyes and raised her head ever so slightly so her lips were above the water.

    "No, I'm not, that's why I'm not playing." She said snidely.

    He smiled triumphantly to himself, considering it a win he was able to get her to speak more than three words.

    "Come on, toots, it'll be fine. We'd make a great team!" He exaggerated a dopey grin and gestured for her to join him.

    Richie may have been blind as a bat, but he could tell she was considering it. She looked around at everyone, who was watching the exchange expectantly. Y/n didn't know if it was everyone's stares or the fact the fact she was genuinely tempted but she gave in and made her way over to him.

    Richie, who still wasn't completely sure is she was moving or not, gave her a cheeky wink, and pushed his luck even further. "I'll let you be on top,"

    Richie expected a comeback or a even a scoff from her, not a pair of hands roughly shoving him into the water by his shoulders. Naturally he figured, one of his friends had done this, tired of his antics and found a unique way to shut him up, but then he felt a pair of legs take a seat on his shoulders and he knew it was Y/n.

    Once he was sure she was secure he rose up out of the water, gasping for air when he reached the surface. The others, cheered her on, welcoming her to the fun.

     She nearly tipped over as he readjusted in the sand, but she grabbed onto his hair by his scalp and he winced.

    "Ah, watch it! I am quite fond of my scalp, you know,"

    "As long as you watch that trashmouth of yours Tozier, one more comment like that and I'll drown you," she peered over his head, giving him a light but slightly teasing glare.

    Nevertheless, she loosened her grip and he blinked a few times, his scalp tingling. "Duly noted,"

    Nobody seemed to hear the small chuckle that escaped Eddie who had been watching, quite impressed with her ability to shut the boy up. He'd have to ask her how she does it.

    "Alright, come on, we gonna play or what?" Bev asked, despite the grin that worked its way onto her face.

    She too was happy to see her friend coming out of her shell, she could tell she had been nervous and Richie proved to be a big help, much to her surprise.

    "It's on, we have got this in the bag!" Richie bragged, getting into position across from Ben.

    Richie cast a glance up to his partner and smiled cheekily, batting his eyelashes. "Right babe?"

    Immediately she whacked his head with her hand and he winced once more. "What did I just tell you?"

    "Alright, alright! Jeez," He tightened his arms around her legs, securing her in place and he took a step forward towards their opponents. "But do keep in mind, we are on the same team, you want to hit the other players"

    He missed the eye roll she gave, but nevertheless she smirked, shaking out her arms, getting ready for the match.

    Bill, who usually announced the beginning of a round, did just that. With one simple word, the girls locked in on one another, theirs hands interlaced and they each pushed with all their might.

    There were several close calls, on both teams, but they always persevered. Unexpectedly, Richie took a few steps back, and Ben, confused by his tactic, stepped forward after them. Though both of them moved slowly, their speed affected against the water, and Y/n nearly tipped over, but her balance was regained when Richie leaned forward and ran forward against the water, tipping Y/n forward and giving her more momentum.

    Catching Bev off guard she was able to prove successful in her efforts to push her over. Beverly came tumbling off of Ben's shoulders, and almost kicked the poor boy in the face on the way down. Richie and Y/n cheered victoriously, and even Ben cracked a smile at their unexpected move.

    Eddie, who had found himself rooting for them, despite his previous grudge against his old opponent, whooped and hollered at their win. Bill and Stan cheered as well, and Beverly broke the surface, a big smile on her face.

    Y/n had already forgotten her nerves and felt a swelling sense of comradery and a growing respect for her partner.

    "Alright, ready to put this to the ultimate test?" Richie asked, addressing his partner and the rest of the group. "New champs, versus old champs,"

    Y/n smiled, looking to Eddie and Stan hopefully, now completely invested in the fun. Eddie felt a swell of confidence and gave in, Stan joining him.

    "Fine, but no playing dirty," Eddie mocked, looking at Richie.

    Richie smirked. "No promises,"

    Eddie, who now struggled to climb onto Stan's shoulders, scoffed.

    Eventually, everyone was situated and Eddie suddenly felt a small flurry of butterflies in his stomach that he briefly mistook for nausea. But he realized that it was in fact butterflies when he saw Y/n opposite him. They were brought closer by their respective partners who stepped forward, preparing for the match. She glared playfully at him, a small smirk on her lips and she outstretched her arms ready to fight. He hadn't realized the match had begun until he was forced to scramble for balance on Stan's shoulders when she went for his arms.

    Their hands interlaced for the second time that day and now he was certain his racing heart was caused by this. Nevertheless, he pushed those feelings aside, reminding himself he wanted to beat Richie again, but the motivation to do so was weaker this time. Though he didn't let this shake his competitiveness so he matched her strength and the two laughed and grunted as they both tried desperately to push one another down.

     Each of them found the other to be a surprising match for themselves. They would often find themselves going for the same opportunities only for the other to be prepared for it. Everyone was now completely invested in the match, everyone cheering them on though they didn't quite know which team they were rooting for.

    Eventually, Stan and Richie had had the same idea and moved in closer in an attempt to push the limits. Both Richie and Stan were beginning to lose interest in who would win, eager to give their arms and legs a break. When they both moved in closer, hoping one of their partners would take advantage of the distance and strike, but once again the pair had the same idea. They leaned into the momentum, each giving one last push and much to everyone's surprise, they both fell on their backs, crashing against the water and earning a small sting from the contact.

    Y/n sunk into the water, slower and slower and she felt her back lightly hit the sand. She felt something graze her ankle, her bad ankle, and before she could stop herself her eyelids ripped open. She flinched in the water, pulling her leg away and she had to blink several times just to adjust to seeing underwater, her heart pounding in fear. But much to her relief, right where her ankle had been, she saw a piece of plastic poking out of the sand, swaying back and forth.

    She would have breathed a sigh of relief but she saved her breath and returned to the surface. She had already lost a small puff of air when she had inadvertently yelped at the contact the plastic had made with her foot.

    Her small panic seemed to have gone unnoticed by the group and everyone had begun milling about, getting lost in their own conversations.

    Y/n looked around at her new friends, and she felt a warmth grow in her chest. By now, she had joined them in deeper waters, once again slinking back into the water but this time it wasn't from fear of judgement but staying cool in the warm June sun. Everyone was lost in their own conversations but she knew she was just apart of this group as everyone else was. As she looked around at all the smiling faces, she relaxed.

    An unexpected laugh escaped her as she saw Eddie holding Richie under the surface and she swam over in their direction. Richie popped up for air and slapped the boy away, though he still wore a goofy grin. Eddie, unlike Richie, was unaware of her approach, a fact Richie declined to give away.

    Y/n was now just behind him, a sly grin on her face and Stan, who had noticed her intentions, called out Eddie making him turn around.

    Sure enough, he whirled around, his face half a foot away from Y/n and she splashed the unsuspecting Kaspbrak boy in the face. On instinct, he whirled back around, only for Richie to do the same and he desperately wiped his face.

    "What the hell is happening!" It came out in shriek that amused everyone in the group.

    Richie and Y/n both let out a chortle of laughter, and soon even Stan had joined in. Though he didn't know whether or not it was from the excitement he felt or the fact the trick he had fallen for that twice in a row, Eddie began to feel the effects of his friends contagious laughter ripple through himself. He shook his head, hoping the smirk he was fighting would be shaken off as well but no matter his efforts, is was glued on his face.

    Though something in Stan compelled him to get back at Richie - who was enjoying all too much the fact he now had help in teasing Eddie - that he decided to splash Richie without warning. Perhaps it was because he wanted to catch Richie off guard, like Richie had done to him earlier. No matter the reason, Stan enjoyed doing it anyway. Richie retaliated and and yet another water war had begun.

    Y/n wore a smile as bright and warm as the sun above her as she looked around at her new friends, more than grateful she had fallen down the steps and met these boys. Y/n chuckled at their antics, grabbing Eddie's attention. He hadn't realized he had been staring until she turned to meet his eye. His first instinct was to pretend he hadn't been looking but instead he broke eye contact briefly and chuckled weakly and he smiled at her.

    Y/n didn't seem to mind, and she smiled back and her shoulders moved slightly as she chuckled.

    "It's okay," His pulse quickened, scared she was speaking of his staring. "I won't splash you anymore,"

    He chuckled and nodded slightly, words failing him. He directed his attention to Richie and Stan and her gaze followed. They were both struggling to submerge the other under the water, past them, Bill and Beverly watched equally amused.

    Y/n yelped when she felt a small nip on her foot and she quickly retracted her leg. Oh, come on! She swam backwards, eyes scanning the water though it proved to be useless. The others joined her side, worried expressions on their faces.

    "W-what happened?"

    "What's wrong?"

    Eddie, who looked particularly worried and rather startled, knowing he would regret going swimming one way or another, began scanning the water backing up.

    "What! What is it?"

    "I think something bit me!"

    Everyone began shifting around the water and Ben, with a burst of bravery, disappeared under the water and began searching.

    Y/n was curious as to why these kids heard about something lurking in the water and biting and somehow thinking it was worth exploring, but a part of her was curious too. Bill soon joined the boy underwater and Y/n had almost begun to grow worried when Bill popped back up, pointing where Y/n had been.

    "It's a turtle!"

×××

    Not long after they kids found the turtle lurking at the bottom of the quarry, their skin began to prune and their limbs grew tired from swimming.

    The boys, who had come prepared with Bill's boombox and Eddie's towels, the kids had dried off. The boys had all found a spot on the rocks and after much persuasion, Beverly had convinced Y/n to sunbathe with her.

    Her confidence from earlier had waned, but at the time, the boys were far too distracted fighting over the radio channels and what they wanted it on.

    Tuning out the guys, Y/n allowed herself the distraction Beverly provided with small talk. The two had been laughing about the day's events and Y/n had even begun to drift off. She hadn't realized how tired she was until she had lied down. After all, she had only gotten roughly three hours sleep the prior night and her limbs had grown exhausted from swimming all day, her leg especially.

    Unaware of how much time had passed, Y/n stirred awake when she realized the lyrics of Young MC's Bust A Move had slipped into her subconscious.

   "These here's a jam for all the fellas, Tryin' to do what those ladies tell us,"

    Stan, Richie, Ben and Bill look on in disbelief at the two beautiful girls sunbathing before them. How did this happen, they wondered.

   "Get shot down cause ya overzealous, Play hard to get females get jealous,"

    Eddie, who had yet to find a seat, stood frozen next to the guys. He blinked several times, trying desperately to look anywhere but their direction, Y/n especially, though he couldn't help but steal a few glances. An act he felt ashamed of.

   "Okay smarty, go to a party, Girls are scantily clad and showin' body"

    Y/n felt a yawn escape her and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand out of habit, her eyelids fluttering open. She had to squint, her eyes readjusting to the light and her stomach did a small flip when she felt several pairs of eyes in her direction.

    Timidly, she turned her head slightly to see the boys all staring at them. She felt her skin flush and she was sure she had turned pink, but the boys seemed even more mortified and they looked away, pretending not to have been staring at them.

    Beverly's attention was drawn by the noise of several throats clearing, and she was aware of how silent it had been. She tilted her head and made eye contact with Y/n, giving her a knowing look from behind her sunglasses accompanied by a small smirk.

    Y/n sat up, her bad leg stretched out and she pulled her other leg close to her chest, while Beverly had rolled on to her stomach. Richie began digging though Ben's stuff, holding a fake microphone to his face.

    "News flash, Ben," he was now speaking in his posh reporter persona. "School's out for summa!"

    "Oh, that?" Ben asked, looking at the evidence he had collected from the library. "That's not school stuff."

    Richie pulled out a postcard of Derry, a picture of the standpipe on the back. "Who sent you this?"

    Before he could read what was written on the other side, Ben had snatched it back. "No one. Give it..."

    Richie didn't think much of it, his attention fell to the blue folder sticking out of Ben's backpack and he eagerly pulled the folder out.

    He opened it up, Stan and Eddie peeking over his shoulder to take a look.

    "What's with the history project?" Eddie asked, curiously.

    "Oh," Ben shrugged looking around at the group who was now listening intently. "When I first moved her, I didn't have anyone to hang out with,"

    As Ben spoke, Richie handed the folder to Bill who had shown interest.

    "so I just started spending time in the library."

    "You went to the library?" Asked Richie, his face scrunched up in confusion. "On purpose."

    Y/n scoffed. "Don't listen to him Ben, he's just insecure that he can't read above a fourth grade level."

    She sent Richie and smirk and a wink, knowing full well of his intellectual capabilities. Something she had picked up in the year spent in class with him. He was in fact a very bright kid, despite his poor manners and his inability to not speak out of turn. Richie just rolled his eyes.

    "Well, I wanna see." Beverly got up from her spot on her towel and took a seat next to Bill.

    Stan had caught a glimpse of the scratchy handwriting on the old photograph Bill and Bev were looking at.

    "What's the Black Spot?" He asked.

     "The Black Spot was a nightclub that burned down years ago by that racist cult."

    "The what?"

    "Don't you watch Geraldo?"

    Y/n chuckled at the utter disbelief and surprise on Eddie's face and Richie met her eye, joining in. He was just about to give him more grief when the pair heard Bill begin speak.

    "Y-y-your hair..." He had been talking to Beverly, but Y/n couldn't help but listen in, curious herself to why her friend had cut it.

    Before he could finish, Ben jumped in and Beverly peered over to meet his eye. He smiled warmly at her.

    "Your... Your hair is beautiful, Beverly."

    Her face had been neutral throughout the entire exchange but she smiled politely at the boy, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

    "Oh, right. Thanks."

    No one but Y/n seemed to notice the awkward looks exchanged between Ben and Bill, and her lips pressed into a firm line, feeling awkward having witnessed this herself.

    Richie, whose attention was still on the folder that was now going unread by Bill, gestured for it.

    "Here, pass it."

    Bill complied, folding it up and passed it back to Richie. Y/n used her hands to shift herself up onto her feet, walked over and took a seat across from Eddie, facing everyone in the group. Richie was now shifting through the folder, Stan leaning over his shoulder for a look.

    "Why is it all murders and missing kids?" Richie asked, passing the folder to Stan.

    Y/n, who had shifted off her bad leg, readjusting so she was leaning on her arms and her legs outstretched in front of her, was now listening intently to Ben.

    "Derry's not like any town I've ever been in before. They did a study once, and it turns out, people die or disappear six times the national average."

    Everyone had been listening, and the group all fell silent for a brief moment, a quiet shock falling over them. Bev was first to break the silence.

    "You read that?"

    Ben shifted on the rocks, ever so slightly, and nodded. "And that's just grown-ups. Kids are worse. Way, way worse."

    Y/n's eyes had fallen from Ben to the ground, where they trailed over to he bandaged ankle and she gulped.

    "I've got more stuff if you wanna see it." Ben offered.

    Eddie's gaze, which had been worriedly fixed on Y/n and the frowned etched on her face, was torn away to the others, shaking his head 'no' and hoping they didn't say yes.

    They did.

+++

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[scribbles97]

Left Behind - Chapter 5

Some more world building in this chapter and a bit more background as to how different IR is here.

@gumnut-logic thank you for putting up with my wobbles and constant pleas for help <3 

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13

Read On Ao3

It was late by the time she had calmed herself enough to go and find the boys. Alan was already tucked up in bed, Gordon sat in his younger brother’s room reading some science book by the lamp light. 

Virgil was in the den, sat at his keyboard playing a tune she didn’t recognise. 

Going to stand behind him she touched his shoulder, watching as his fingers flowed over the keys. 

“Have you spoken to Scott?” He murmured, not looking up from the keys.

“Not yet,” She sighed, “He and John were my next stop.”

Virgil nodded, his hands slowing and coming to a stop on the keys. They rested still for a moment before he drew them back into his lap. 

“We’re all scared,” He admitted softly, not turning to look at her, “Please don’t be too mad at him?”

He had always been the one most sensitive to fights and arguments, attempting to diffuse them before they started even when he had been so much younger. She knew that Jeff being gone wouldn’t be easy on any of them, especially with how it had happened. Each of them grieved in their own ways though and she knew how Scott especially could get.

“Scott has a reckless streak, we all know it. And I can’t let anything happen to you boys, especially not now.”

Virgil nodded, his hand reaching up to squeeze hers on his shoulder, “We don’t want anything to happen to you either, Mom.”

Her heart clenched, knowing that the fear had to work both ways. Leaning down she kissed the top of his hair, her hand squeezing his shoulder.

“We’ll figure something out, kiddo.” She murmured, combing her fingers through the long ends of his hair, “You need a trim.”

He reached back to ruffle the ends, shrugging as he did, “I was thinking about going short with it anyway. I’m not letting it get as long as Gordon’s.”

Lucy couldn’t help a chuckle, “You leave your brothers fashion choices alone… or should I remind you of what you did at sixteen?”

He tensed and shuddered with a shake of his head, “I’d rather you didn’t. But come on, everyone knows that you can’t make a manbun work unless you grow a beard, and that scruff on the kids face hardly counts as bum fluff.”

A light tap on his shoulder was meant to be scolding, but she really didn’t have the heart. It would have to remain a secret that she agreed with the opinion. It was Gordon’s choice and who was she to argue with it?

“Can you manage another week away from college?” She asked as he turned to straddle the stool so he was facing her. 

“Sure, Alice is sending me extra notes and I can finish my papers from here using the TI program, if you’ll give me access?”

She hummed, it would be hypocritical to give him full access after the lashing she had given Scott earlier. 

“Why, anyway?” He frowned, no doubt knowing the answer wasn’t so straight forward. 

She swallowed and took a breath, “I was thinking of going to the farm for a bit, just the six of us for some proper family time.”

It was a relief that he smiled and nodded, even if the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“That sounds good, I’d like that Mom.”

He glanced past her, nodding to the balcony of the den, “Scott and John were down by the pool last I knew.”

Rolling her eyes she smiled, “Yeah alright I get the hint.”

He chuckled as she stepped back, “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, Kiddo.”

***

The moment Scott saw her, she saw him tense. His face fell into a glare and his back straightened. From the opposite lounger, John twisted to see what had caused such a reaction. It was hard not to smile at the blanket he was wrapped up in, constellations and their names etched on the fleece.

“Is this section restricted, or can anyone join the party?” She asked, hovering between the two loungers they were sat on. 

Neither answered, both avoiding looking at her. She had known it wouldn’t be straight forward, there would have to be some bridge building before things would truly be right again. But for both to simply ignore her, stung more than she had expected. 

“I’m sorry I made assumptions earlier,” She murmured, folding her arms, “Scott that wasn’t fair of me.”

The eldest huffed as he leant back on his arms to look up to her. Even in the low light she could still see the hurt in his eyes as he watched her for a moment before he spoke, 

“We just want to try and find Dad.”

“And you think I don’t?” She bit back. Catching herself, she closed her eyes and took a breath. 

“Look,” She started again, “I want to keep looking, but your father wouldn’t want the resources diverted away from other people in need.”

Scott looked down as his face contorted, probably trying to hide his emotion from her but failing terribly. John hunched forward, nodding in silent agreement. 

“The programme wouldn’t take up much of Thunderbird Five’s resources,” John murmured, looking up to her with pursed lips, “The processing power it would use would hardly be significant.”

She nodded, her decision having been made before she had come to speak to them, “I trust your capability, John. Otherwise I would be sending the program to Hiram before I let you plug it in to Thunderbird Five.”

The sudden spark of hope in both of their eyes was obvious as they looked up to her. Both sat straighter now, eager. 

“I can’t let you up to Thunderbird Five without clearance and having an actual space license,” She pointed out quickly, not wanting them to get too excited, “But your Uncle Lee and I will go up tomorrow, I’d suggest making sure you were up early enough to supervise from the office.”

A glance back to Scott before standing quickly with a nod, “Yes Ma’am.”

Rolling her eyes at him she glared gently, “Don’t call me that,” Catching his shoulder she shook her head, “I’m your mother first, nothing is going to change that.”

She nodded him away, back towards the warm lights of the house and out of the cool night air. There were still words to be had with the eldest, things that weren’t to be heard by younger siblings. 

Once John was out of range, she took the blanket that had been wrapped around him and sat down next to Scott, draping the material across both of their shoulders as she nudged him slightly. The sideways glance of blue eyes was uncertain, but he shuffled closer regardless, sighing as he leant into the warmth of the fleece. 

“At your age, your Dad would have done exactly the same thing,” She started, looking across to him, thinking just how like his father he looked. The reminder tugged at her chest.

“I’m not saying what you did was okay, and I’m not some Air Force commander that’s going to brush you off because you’re just a junior air man.” Reaching across she squeezed his knee, “I’m your mom. If you can’t come to me with these ridiculous, half thought through plans, who can you go to with them?’

The lights from the villa were reflecting in his eyes more than they had been earlier, and she could see the ripple of the tears as he sniffed and shook his head. 

“Dad always said how much you grounded him,” Scott whispered, his hand reaching out to take hers on his knee, “That if it weren’t for you, there’d be five people running International Rescue, him, you, Grandma, Uncle Lee, and Aunt Val.”

Lucy smiled. She remembered the day Jeff had come to her with his grand plan to help save those that needed the help nobody else could offer. The help that they had once themselves needed. It had been an argument that he had been crazy and five people couldn’t possibly save the entire world. 

“I mean in a good way,” Scott added softly, “Could you imagine five of us running this whole thing?”

“It would be hard going,” She agreed, “Probably dangerous even.”

Scott nodded and then sighed, “Dad always encouraged the stupid ideas. Made them more crazy.”

Didn’t Lucy know it. She couldn’t count how many times she’d caught the boys doing something ridiculous and decided it was simply best to leave them to their own devices. Any unfortunate outcome she had decided would be dealt with by the so-called responsible adult partaking in the activity. 

“I get you’re scared of what might happen to us out there Mom,” Scott continued, “I was scared that you’d ground us because of that. That if I came to you with the idea you’d be too scared to let us at least try.”

He paused with a heavy sniff as he shook his head, “I should have known better than that. Dad taught me that much.”

All of the boys had always found it calming when she played with their hair, she hoped that Scott still did as she reached up to run her fingers through the finer hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“How do you mean, son?”

Blue eyes shining he smiled softly at her, “He told me never to tell you, but I guess now he--” His voice caught before he could finish, clearly catching him off guard as he bent double with a sob.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lucy cooed, dropping her arm around his shoulders and squeezing hard, “Scotty, it’s alright.”

Coughing to clear his throat, Scott took a deep breath. He didn’t sit straight but stayed hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees as he gazed up towards the house. Lucy kept her hand lightly on his back, rubbing gentle circles as she waited for him to speak again. 

“He always said, that without you he wouldn’t have done any of it. That he would have instead been this mess of a man, with blood on his hands, and no knowledge of how to love himself let alone anyone else.” 

Lucy had always assumed as much about Jeff. They had had conversations about it late at night, normally after nightmares had woken him. Over time though that kind of conversation had gotten less as sleep had become more valued and she had never seen a need to validate her assumptions.

Scott sniffed again, drawing her out of her thoughts as he sighed and shook his head, “And that you took everything he gave you and made it something more, something that he saw as perfect and wonderful. Not because you were his wife, he always made that very clear, but just because of who you are Mom.”

He twisted to look back at her, tears evident on his cheeks as his lip wobbled, “And I forgot that. He’s been gone eleven days and I forgot Mom.”

She pulled him in, wrapping him tight in her arms as she kissed the top of his head, “You’re grieving Scott. Emotions get all mixed up and your brain throws things off. You haven’t forgotten anything, you’re just prioritising different.”

“‘M sorry.” He whispered, sighing against her shoulder, “I’m really sorry, Mom.”

Rocking gently she kissed the top of his hair again, “It’s okay Scotty, we’re gonna get through this. I swear it. All of us, together.”

She just hoped it didn’t pull her apart trying to do so. 

[prorevenge]

Buddy, You Picked the Wrong Person to Harass

The year was 2014 (or maybe 2013? who gives a shit?), and I was a freshman in high school. On a general basis it sucked. I mean, it was an American public high school with literally thousands of kids, it's a given that it's gonna blow some major balls. One thing in particular that made it extra sucky though was gym class. Specifically, this one guy in gym class.

This dude's name was Jack A. McGee, the 'A' of course being short for 'Ass'. As the name would imply, he was a jackass.

At first, it was pretty standard "high school guy in gym class"-level of obnoxious prick. You know the type: overly loud, unreasonably aggressive during games, bossy, tossing the collective brain cell back and forth between his two equally ape-like buddies. The usual.

I don't know when, exactly, it happened, but he developed a sort of... eye for me, after the first couple of weeks or so. He started asking me bizarre questions that I now believe may have been some sort of innuendo, sitting uncomfortably close to me, resting his hand on my gym shoe- general creepy behavior.

He once blocked a doorway with his body (this dude was massive), forcing me to literally squeeze my way through and crawl over him. He then tried to grab me and pin me to him once I was almost through, but I'm very good at dodging physical contact whenever possible, and dipped on him before his giant gorilla arm could catch me. I still shudder thinking about it. I cannot emphasize enough how terrible this dude smelled.

But the true breaking point came during the peak cruelty of this school mandated sadism: gym swim.

Before anyone asks, let it be known that yes, I did try to tell someone about this. I told my gym teacher first semester, really early on, that Jack was making me incredibly uncomfortable. The gym teacher waved it off, saying he was "just playing around" and that "it's probably because he likes you". His suggestion was basically to just put up with it and wait it out, because he was sure Jack would lose interest soon anyways.

Spoiler alert: he didn't

Second semester rolls around, and the four week period of gym swim descends upon us like the bloated carcass of a catapulted whale, crushing us beneath its wet, foul smelling body. 40 some odd adolescents forced into a cold, overly chlorinated pool for 50+ minutes, adorned in swimsuits determined to crawl up into our assholes like Antman himself.

It was hell on earth, basically.

As I've mentioned in a previous post, I am autistic, so the echoing sounds, reflected fluorescent lights, pungent odors, slimy floors, and assorted BS made the situation even worse for me. I wasn't officially diagnosed yet, so my complaints were written off as me being whiny, and I was told to shut up and deal with it. So I did. I think I had more meltdowns in that four week span than I've had in the past two years combined, but whatever.

On top of the sensory overload, there was Jack.

I think something about being allowed to go shirtless and stare at the nearly bare asses of girls for an entire period emboldened him, because Jack promptly lost whatever semblance of restrain he'd had until then.

He made frequent attempts to grab me, trying to hold me against his bare skin, which was disgusting, and I spent most of the class trying to evade him. The swimsuit I was forced to wear fit a little awkwardly around my chest, which he delighted in pointing out to his buddies, staring unabashedly at my breasts. He managed to sneak up behind me and snap the strap of my swimsuit, even trying to pull it down off my shoulder, but I jerked away fast enough to prevent that. I was furious at this point, but I'm like, 5'2", maybe, whereas he was easily over 6'5", probably 300+ pounds, and I'm not stupid.

While all of this was happening, my new gym teacher, (they switched every semester), was busy trying to keep a couple of the other guys from drowning each other. She was one adult forced to watch over 40 rowdy ass kids in a swimming pool; she was a bit preoccupied.

The final straw came one Wednesday afternoon, the event that finally pushed me off the edge of the rationality I'd been clinging to and sent me plummeting into full on bloodthirst.

There I was, paddling around, minding my own business, when Jack and his two goons manage to corner me. I'm immediately suspicious, hackles raised, as they ask me fairly banal questions about how the pool is today and the like, sniggering the whole time. I give short, terse answers, trying to see if I could maybe slip past them. I spot an opening and bolt for it, but Jack was apparently expecting this.

As I swim through the narrow gap between him and one of his friends, he stretches his arm out, and actually manages to slip his hand under my suit to grab my breast. I froze for a moment, the delighted giggling of him and his friends echoing in my ears as if from a thousand miles away.

The next thing I knew, I was out of the pool, being held back by the gym teacher, and Jack had a bloody nose. He was shouting angrily at me, calling me a "crazy bitch!!" as his nose gushed blood into the water. There was mass confusion among the class. I was told to change quickly and sit in the hallway.

Apparently, the gym teacher had heard me screech like a banshee, followed by a number of shouts, and had looked over to see me wrestle out of Jack's grip, jump on his back, and throw him off balance enough to smash his face into the edge of the pool wall. I remembered none of this, but I did find a few chunks of greasy brown hair clenched in my fist that I'd evidently ripped from his scalp when the teacher pulled me off. I washed my hands thoroughly.

It was decided that I'd go in early to school tomorrow to have a little talk with the Dean. They would've just sent me there straight away, but gym was my last class of the day, and the Dean had already left by then for whatever reason, so it had to be postponed a little while. It was pretty heavily implied that I was going to be suspended, quite possibly even expelled, for what had happened.

I was furious. Not only had Jack made my life a living hell, but his horse shit was now going to be the cause of my expulsion?!? I wasn't about to go down without a fight, but I realized that I'd have to play this pretty smart if I wanted to weasel out of it.

The next morning, I did two things: I put on mascara, and I made a superficial, but rather painful incision on my right thigh, high enough so as to be covered by my shorts.

Normally, I hate wearing makeup, because I don't like the way it feels, but I'd worn mascara before and noticed the interesting effect it had on my appearance. Specifically, I already have pretty long, pretty dark eyelashes, so adding mascara draws a lot of attention to my eyes and makes them look huge. Like, total Bambi eyes- wide, innocent, naive, harmless.

I sat down in front of the Dean at 6:40 a.m. I didn't need to fake the fear in my expression, but I made sure to throw in something that could be interpreted as guilt, too, bowing my head and twisting my face in dismay.

Needless to say, the Dean was pretty pissed.

"Do you know why you're here, young lady?" he said

"Yes," I said softly.

"And you know that what you did is very serious?"

"Yes," I said again, making my voice tremble.

"Care to explain yourself, then?"

"I..." I began, my voice shaking. "I just wanted him to stop..."

"Stop what?" The Dean prompted, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I just wanted him to stop touching me!" I blurted. As I said this, I reached my hand under the table where he couldn't see it and dug my finger into the cut on my leg, causing me to lurch forward as if in a sob, my other hand covering my face as my eyes watered from the pain.

"Touching you?" The Dean asked, his brows now on a collision course for Mars.

I spent the next several minutes divulging all the shit that had happened to me that year, digging into my injury for some tears whenever necessary, and by the end of it the Dean looked horrified. He reaffirmed that no, I shouldn't have attacked Jack like that, but that they'd have to investigate the matter further.

I basically got off with a slap on the wrist, and after multiple testimonies from other girls, Jack got suspended for two weeks. I wasn't satisfied. They hadn't been able to expel him due to "lack of hard evidence", but I was out for blood.

He returned to school two weeks later, and I was ready.

One of his friends had a little brother in my bio class, a fairly chill dude named Owen, who I had worked out a deal with. See, Jack had been very vocal about his displeasure with me to his friends, which made its way to Owen, who, for the low low price of bailing his dumb ass out in biology, was more than willing to share that information with me. I had a direct pipeline.

Anything Jack shared with his friends made its way directly to me via Owen, and, as it turns out, this dude didn't keep a whole lot to himself.

There was a lot of shit I was tempted to nail him for. For instance, I found out he was selling drugs (mostly adderal and some occasional weed) from his locker, and had been cheating his way through most of his classes. However, I knew how suspicious it would look for me to report something like that so soon. It'd probably just look like I had a grudge, (which I did), and was trying to get even, (which I was).

He slipped up really, really bad about a week after his return, and that was when I struck.

See, he hadn't been subtle about his displeasure with my retaliation, and spent most of gym class sending really ugly looks my way. The gym teacher kept us as far away from each other as possible, but he managed to track me down in a passing period one day and rant at me about how I had screwed him over and that I was a lying little bitch, yada yada yada, and that he'd make me regret it. Funny, stole the words right out of my mouth.

I found out from Owen later that Jack had been bragging to his friends last night about the switchblade he'd stolen from one of those hunting stores downtown, and promised he'd show it off to them later that day.

I seized the opportunity.

I took a few seconds in the bathroom mirror, scratching at the scab on my leg until my eyes were teary enough to really sell the "terrified victim" look, then bolted down to the Dean's office, stuttering and shaking, crying out for help. The front desk lady was understandably startled by the sight of a seemingly panicked freshman girl bolting into the office, and called the Dean out right away. His face grew serious when he saw me.

"M-Mr. Dean, please help! He's gonna kill me!" I cried.

"Now, slow down," he said. "What happened?"

"Jack!" I said, resisting the urge to grin maniacally at the hardness that appeared in the Dean's eyes. "He, he cornered me in the hall! He called me a bitch and said he was gonna make me regret telling on him! H-he's got a knife!!"

"He what?!" The Dean barked.

Everything moved very quickly after that. The security guards were told to search the kids locker, while a couple other security officers were called down to get Jack out of his classroom and take him to the office. I was told by the front desk lady, who had heard the whole exchange, to hide with her in the copier room so Jack wouldn't see me.

They found the (stolen) knife in his backpack, and the drugs in his locker. That, combined with his previous charges, was enough to get him not only expelled, but arrested. I never saw him again, which is probably a good thing because I'm still mad and would probably try to kill him if given the opportunity.

TL;DR: Guy sexually harasses me in gym class, I give him a bloody nose, a two week suspension, an expulsion, and a criminal record, all in that order.

(source) story by (/u/FeralTaxEvader)

[futurewriter2000]

The Effect

A/N: Okay, this all goes to @padfootersblog . I got the werewolf, twin lupin thing from her and I just wanted to say this. She wrote reader x Sirius but I felt like reader x James so I wrote this so fast and I really like it and Idk if I should write a second part or nah? 

PAIRING: James Potter x Lupin!twin!reader

xx

Twins, fraternal or identical, they usually had many things in common but with you and your brother, that was never the case. The perfect child, the pride and the light of the family; your brother, Remus. Though you weren’t much different from him you were still more of a rebel than a bookworm. The rebellious one, the fun, the artistic, more open-minded...

He preferred books, you preferred music. He wore light polo shirts and you wore jackets, jeans or anything related to funky. There was no clothing that you didn’t draw on, sewed on or ripped off.

Although the two of you were different from one another, both were still as close as two coats of paint. Despite the fact you were sorted into Ravenclaw, the two of you saw each other every day.

“ Cheers brother!” you sat down next to him and clung your cup against the one you forced in his hand. “ Drink up.” you smiled and he furrowed his eyebrows at you, staring suspiciously.

“ What did you do?”

“ Nothing.” you rolled your eyes and put your feet on the table. “ Now are you going to drink or not?”

“ Why?”

“ I’m testing whether you’re fun or a complete bore.” you groaned and he rolled his eyes, lifting his cup and drinking up. “ Good.”

---

Sometimes, people shouldn’t trust you because you were always too smart for your own good.

“ Oh no.” Sirius sighed looking at the two giggling and laughing twins on the sofa, lightly shoving one another and throwing pillows.

“ We told him not to eat or drink whatever she gives him.” James walked over and took the cup from the table, taking a sniff. “ Smells like orange juice.” he quirked an eyebrow at Sirius.

“ Drongs!” you laughed and pulled James by the robe on the sofa, casually sitting on his lap and stroking his hair away from his forehead. “ That is what they call you, right?”

“ It’s- uh- Prongs.” he looked at you, afraid to move a muscle and look at anything else but your breasts. The only thing keeping him sane at the very moment was the fact that you were Remus’ sister.

“ You alright there, Prongs?” Sirius smirked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and observing the view playing front of him.

“ Uh- little help, Padfoot.” he said but kept his eyes on yours.

No matter who you were, how long the two of you have knowm each other, all James wanted to do was run his hands all over you.

“ You’re tense.” you narrowed your eyes, your voice quite high and cracking at some of the vowels. You put your hands on his shoulders and started to massage him, later following down to his chest. “ Wow.” you laughed and put your arms in front of you. “ Remus are you seeing this?! I have four arms!” you beamed at your brother who was already passed out on the armchair. “ Wuss.” you scoffed and got on your feet.

“ Careful, darling.” Sirius smirked and continued to watch everything play in front of him while James tried to wipe the sinful thoughts from his mind.

“Darling?” you shot a glare at him. “ Don’t call me that.”

The word. That word.

The word awoke the anger that hid beneath the mask you showed to everybody.

“ Don’t call you what? Darlin-”

The effect of the potion you made for you and Remus wore off quicker than hell. Sirius choked on the hand against his throat, the beast inside of you was starting to rage and before you knew there were muffled voices echoing around you.

“(y/n)! Stop!”

‘ “Stop!” an innocent girl cried from her bed, watching a big, furry beast cutting in her brother’s flesh. “ Emus!” the name still couldn’t be pronounced correctly due to the age of the girl, her body shaking from the horror in front of her.

“ Revenge really does taste sweet.” the beast cackled and licked his fingers, his blue eyes reflecting every inch of the monster he truly was. He licked his fangs and started walking towards the girl in front of him.

“ No!” the girl shouted and tried to run away.

But her short steps weren’t a match for the greed and the hunger of the wolf behind her. He clawed in her back and threw her on the ground.

“ Daddy! Mummy!” she screamed, numb to the pain spreading on her back.

“ Mummy and daddy aren’t here, darling. “ he growled against her small ear.

Her head turned, eyes shut and she knew that this was either the end or the worst nightmare she has had. Eyes opened for a second, she didn’t know why but she wanted them to be opened yet the only view she saw was her twin brother lying in his own pool of blood, barely breathing.

His snout moved around her face and until it came to her eyes, he followed her gaze. “ You should thank your daddy for this. He should know better than not to mess with Fenrir Greyback.” he snarled and she turned her head to look at his dilated pupils. “ Nighty night, darling.” ‘

“ (Y/N)! “ you were thrown across the common room, your brother standing above you while pointing his wand at you.

James was at his best friend’s side and Remus rushed to yours, taking your head in his hands and looking at your contracting pupils. You found the colour adjust slowly, the emerald in your brother’s eyes growing brighter by the moment.

You glanced at the coughing boy behind Remus. Sirius holding himself by the neck and letting out coughs. “ Oh my God- Did I- Did I?” you stuttered, your eyes glancing between your brother and Sirius. “ Oh, Remus I didn’t - I didn’t mean-”

His hands wrapped around you, one hand on your head and pressing it against his chest and the other supporting you up. “ It’s okay. I know.”

“ I- he was- he was there- you were barely alive- his eyes- I-”

“ I know. Just calm down.” he continued to rock you in his arms while you sobbed. “ It’s not your fault.”

---

The guilt was more starved than the wolf on the full moon. It kept eating you from the inside out, day and night, like a hermit craving for water.

The steps in your room, the pacing around and the stress of heavy thoughts were taking all the sleep you craved for three nights now.

‘ The mother came in the room first, screaming and falling on her knees. The father was a step behind her, entering the room and looking from one of his child to another. “ Oh my God.” he pressed his hand to his mouth. “ Remus! (Y/n)!” he didn’t know to which one he came first. “ My children!”

Both of the children could hear them crying, screaming, sobbing... but not a muscle could be moved nor it felt like they were breathing. Everything was dark, everything felt like some sort small closet where you could do nothing but think. ‘

And so you grabbed the hoodie you found on one of the chairs of your roommate's and walked out the Ravenclaw tower.

‘ “ Female, five-years-old, infected by lycanthropy.” a woman’s voice came from above her, white lights flashing and disappearing while sobs escaped besides her. The girl turned her head, finally, she could move just to see her mother’s eyes filled with tears and worry. She smiled.

“ You’re going to be okay, honey. Just hold on.” ‘

The door was right in front of you. There. Just knock.

But if words could describe the horrible fear that ran through your veins, you would shout instead of knock. But you could do neither. Your eyes were fixated on the wooden door.

The door opened and a grumpy boy stared at you. “ Just. Go. To. Sleep.” he yawned, light on his feet. “ You know when you can’t sleep, I can’t sleep. Just. Sleep.”

“ I- I need to see him. I need to see if he’s alright.”

“ Is that (y/n)?” a familiar voice came behind Remus, hazel instead of grey as you expected. He put his hand on Remus’ shoulder and squeezed his way through the door. “ I’ll talk to her, you go to sleep Grumpy.” he pushed Remus back inside and closed the door.

“ James, I can’t sleep until I see him.” you begged with your eyes, your eyelashes battering.

“ He knows, (y/n). We all know it wasn’t your fault.” he put his hand on your shoulder and squeezed it softly. “ He shouldn’t have said that, especially when you were high on your own emotions from that potion.”

“ Bu- I need-”

“ Remus explained.”

“ That was not his to explain!” you started to get furious. “ It was me who should have explained.”

“ (y/n).” he sighed and looked at you with his tired eyes. “ It’s 2 a.m and I really need the sleep-in- Saturday. Please, please just go to sleep.”

“ I can’t sleep. Not until-”

“ God!” he groaned and opened the door, pulling you inside.

“ What are you doing?”

“ You’re sleeping. Just go sleep in Remus’ bed.” he closed the door. “ You can say sorry to Sirius in the morning.”

“ I’m not sleeping with Remus. He always takes all the space.”

“ Fine! Then take my bed and I’ll take the floor.” he grabbed the pillow and threw one on the ground.

“ No. You can’t sleep on the floor.” you picked the pillow up. “ I’ll take your bed and so are you but no funny business, Potter.” you said to him before crawling into his bed and making yourself comfortable.

“ At this point, I’m too tired to care.” he yawned and crawled in his bed as well, making sure you got enough space to sleep on.

You turned away from James and pulled the pillow closer, breathing in the mixture of ginger and cinnamon, which was an oddly great combination. And without any notice, it was already dark and both of you were asleep.

---

‘ The girl was afraid. She was staring at her brother who the moon already took over. He only looked through the window and his spine was already twisting in directions. She hid behind her bed and all of a sudden there it was, the crack of the bone, the movement of her insides, the sharp claws coming from her fingers. It-

The sudden change of scene took you a while to adjust. Everything was bright. Two children were running around the field, laughing and chasing each other. “ You’re it!” the girl shouted and the boy started chasing her.

“ I’m faster! “ he shouted and started sprinting towards her. She stopped and all of a sudden there was a crash, two young kids laughing. ‘

“ OI!” a shout woke you from the lovely dreams and a pillow was thrown at your head. “ What the bloody hell!” you sleepily opened your eyes and through the mess of your hair, you found yourself facing a sleeping black-haired boy.

Your hands were on his chest, his arm over your hip while his hand pressed against your back. He was fast asleep, as a rock, just nuzzling closer as another pillow sped its way to him.

“ It’s Saturday.” he groaned in a musky, sleepy voice which plastered a smile on your lips.

He was beautiful when he slept. The burnt cheeks from the lake picnic a few days ago. Whenever he got burnt, despite his dark skin, he would get these minuscule sunspots on his cheekbones and it looked as if he had freckles. His hair, messier than usual, were pointing everywhere and his eyelashes looked longer than yours.

“ Mate!” Remus shouted bewildered and pulled the sheets off the two of you.

“ God, Remus! Why so dramatic?” you rolled your eyes and sat up.

And all of a sudden, at the sound of your voice, James eyes flew open in the flash and he looked up at you. “ OH! ”

“ Morning.” You smiled at him. However, the smile that formed on your lips was not the same as he received and both of you, at that moment, knew it.

“ Morning.” he smiled as well, just as you, differently as he ever did before.

The messy (y/h/c) hair and the oversized Ravenclaw Quidditch sweater on you... it showed you in a completely different light.

“ Excuse me.” there came a cough and both of you looked at the boy standing in front of the two of you.

“ Oh shit.”

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Behind closed doors

i have a little prompt for Avengers days, maybe after Ultron Tony gets really sick and Pepper is away and Rhodey is unavaible but he doesnt tell the Avengers because he feels a bit like an outsider and like they're distancing from him and the last thing he wants is for them to think him weak so he hides ir and gets injured on a mission. Eventually an Avenger (you can pick who) finds out and helps him (from AO3).

I´m sorry that it took me light years to finish this, but on the up side, it got exceptionally long and somehow features nearly everyone (I even wrote one dialogue with Bruce before remembering that there´s no way I could have him show up at this point of time). I hope it was worth the wait! Leave comments if you like it.

Contains emeto, quite some pain and bit of angst

Tony wakes up to his own muffled scream. For a moment he lies there in the dark, trying to catch his breath, while his most recent nightmare replays in front of his inner eye in all its detailed beauty. He knows that he has gotten less sleep than good for him, but something in his stomach feels vaguely uncomfortable, enough to keep him awake.

He doesn´t remember drinking enough to make him sick, but this in itself is no proof for anything. His brain is slower than his hands, which are searching for Pepper on the other side of the mattress before he recalls what happened the previous night.

The details are a little fuzzy, but they´d had an argument. There had been drinking, and accusations, and then he´d missed the point where he could have apologized and she´d been fine after half a day of angry frowning, and things had gone from bad to worse. They had shouted at each other, louder and longer than in a while now. She´d left for the board meeting in L.A. with tears in her eyes, and this was bad, because Pepper does not cry, not when things are still fixable.

Tony gets up to check his phone. No misscalls, just a message from her - I reached. See you on Thursday. Anthony Stark isn´t one to make first steps, so he shrugs the dark thoughts away and shoves the phone into his pocket, ordering the coffee machine to do its magic while absent-mindedly cradling his upset stomach.

The workshop is Tony´s to-go-place to not deal with problems and emotions he should be dealing with, but today he can´t really find the motivation to move there. He gets back into bed, half-heartedly watching news on the holo screen at the ceiling.

Half an hour later the discomfort in his stomach has turned into a gnawing ache, and by now he is sure that this is not just a hangover. He´d been feeling off the day before, and it would just fit into the way this morning is going down if he´d caught a bug somewhere. The smell from the untouched coffee on the table is enough to slowly make him nauseos.

Another fifteen minutes later Tony barely makes it to the washbasin in his private bathroom before the residuals of last night´s drinking binge come up in forceful splashes. It takes him a ridiculous amount of effort to force himself to stop gagging and breathe evenly. When he washes his face with shaky hands and checks his own reflection in the mirror, he looks pale, sweaty, and easily ten years older than usually.

He spends the morning dozing on the couch in front of the TV, a screwdriver and one of the gauntlets in his hands, not finding the energy to do much more. He throws up twice more, and each time is more painful than the previous. Any attempt of keeping down painkillers or even ginger ale turns out to be fruitless.

When the pain keeps on increasing, he briefly considers calling someone. But Pepper is not an option, not after yesterday. Rhodey is attending some top-secret military congress in a top-secret location (Warsaw, as Tony found out after three minutes on his phone) and not to be disturbed. There has been no sign of Bruce since Ultron.

And the other Avengers...someone might be in the tower, or in close proximity at the upstate facility, and it wouldn´t be the first time they accompany each other to the ER. But since Ultron -

Tony´s thoughts are interrupted by a call to assembly blaring through the speakers. The volume is making his head throb.

“Friday, honey?” he prompts while pushing himself up from the coach with a moan, “Fire up the quinjet. Let´s make ourself useful.”

---

“You alright, Tony? You look like shit.” It is not an accusation, not coming from Clint, but Tony still feels like he has to get defensive.

“Always a delight to talk to you, Barton,” he replies, “What are you even doing here? Thought you had retired. And don´t you have your kids to mother-hen?”

“Hey, calm down. They´re on a family holiday with Laura´s parents.” Clint shrugs, looking a bit uncomfortable. There´s a knowing smirk playing around Natasha´s lips at his words. Tony is tempted to ask for details, but Steve interrupts with the mission briefing.

“Okay, everybody, listen. We´re dealing with a hostage situation. Around a dozen civilians are being held in the 10th floor of an office building.” He taps on the conference table and the 3D-model of a skyscraper appears.

“It´s nothing new to us, but the targets are unusually heavily armed. Stark and Barton, I suggest you draw them out and keep them busy from above, while Nat and I go in and get the hostages out safely - Stark, are you even listening?”

Tony, who has been trying to focus on Steve´s voice through a haze of pain, is sitting hunched over, cradling his head in his hand, probably looking ready to doze off.

“Spangles, I understand that you love everyone gazing at your pretty face, but I´m actually capable of listening without looking at you,” he snarks, which brings a suppressed snickle from Clint. Steve shoots him a look, but continues the briefing.

Tony does his best to sit up straight for the rest of the briefing, which brings more nausea with it. No puking in front of his teammates. Not like he hadn´t done that before - they all had, to be honest - but usually there were concussions to blame it on.

A few months ago, he might have said something, cracked a joke and secretly hoped that someone would realize what´s going on. But Ultron has changed things. Not that anyone would name it, but he knows, from Steve passing by the lab at odd times to ask how he is doing - and looking around for anything resembling another vicious AI, another Ultron, as if Captain America was capable of identifying one even if it was jumping right in his face. From the way Clint checks his SI-custom-made explosive arrows twice before using them, from the fact that conversations nowadays barely ever move away from mission-related topics. Things have changed.

They might not even realize it themselves, and Tony doesn´t actually blame anyone. Trust is something he doses carefully, and he won´t judge others for not giving it away freely. But this doesn´t mean it pinches less to realize how everyone is slowly drifting apart.

Tony tries his best to keep his shit together, but they are near their destination when the bile he´s been continuously swallowing down won´t stay there anymore. He feels like his stomach is sitting in his chest. He brushes past Nat, avoiding her curious gaze, and makes for the bathroom.

He closes the door, opens the toilet seat and bends over, spit pooling in his mouth, just to startle when a familiar voice speaks up.

“Sir, I must inform you that your body temperature is elevated to 101.7 degress.”

“Friday! Didn´t I mute you in the quinjet?”

“The exact words you used were `shut up while anyone is around´, Sir. Since this room is soundproof, I took the liberty to address you in private in here.”

“Oho, we´re having sexy bathroom conversations now?”

A wave of nausea takes over and he bends over the bowl, coughing weakly. Spit dangles from his lips.

“Sir, given your worsening symptoms, I strongly advise you to inform the other Avengers -”

“Not happening, Friday.” he cuts her off.

“I am not yet well-acquainted with your behaviour patterns, but I am convinced that no harm will arise from telling your team members-”

“Gosh, you don´t get it. Shut up.” Tony loves all his AIs, but sometimes he really misses Jarvis. He´d have understood, Tony is sure.

“Am I detecting trust issues, Sir?”

“Oh, don´t you start on me... I´m just not fond of company in this state -” he´s interrupted by a gag that pushes bile up his throat.

There´s hardly anything to bring up anymore, but that doesn´t stop his stomach from forcefully trying to evacuate his body. Tony digs his fingers into his trousers when the retching dials up the pain.

“If you had wanted to be alone, Sir, you would have muted me already.” Friday continues the conversation, and there is nothing Tony can say against that.

When he returns, there´s a bottle of Gatorade and a packet of mints sitting on his seat. Natasha and Clint exchange a knowing glance when he pushes them away. Even the thought of anything entering his mouth right now is enough to set him off again.

They have nearly reached the drop-off point when Steve breaks the silence.

“Alright, get ready to attack. Stark, Barton, we´ll let you out at the opposite building. Try to spare lives whenever possible, but don´t be gentle.”

“Let´s beat them up.” Clint translates, earning a disapproving glance from Steve.

“Stark, wouldn´t this be the time to suit up? Where´s your armour?” Clint asks.

“Well....” Tony puts on his showman grin, trying not to wince while he slides into the seat next to the exit. He plugs his finger into the concealed mechanism and Clint can´t contain a whistle when the Iron Man suit starts unfolding itself over Tony´s body.

“Let´s kick their asses,” he grins, then the hatch below slides open and he falls into the sky above New York.

---

Maneuvering the suit brings on a new level of pain. Every instinct tells him to pull his knees up to his chest and curl into a ball, but unfortunately he needs his legs stretched and his body in full tension in order to fly precisely. Tony goes straight for a headdive and moans when the change of altitude brings agony and a new wave of nausea.

It doesn´t stop him from kicking their asses, oh no, he screws them up just fine. Maybe a few of his beams hit harder and provoke more windows to blow up than intended, and maybe the pain makes him just a bit more aggressive than he typically would be, but he accomplishes the mission alright. Iron Man isn´t stopped by the stomach flu. No way.

Even if it´s not a stomach flu. Tony has just covered Steve´s entry into the building when the pain flames up harder than before, and this time it´s concentrated in the lower right of his stomach, prompting him to press a hand to his armour in a fruitless attempt of comforting himself. He understands the implications a second before Friday tells him.

“Sir, based on your statistics and the local concentration of pain, it seems very probable that you have appendiscitis. I advise to seek medical -”

Which is when he mutes her and grits his teeth together. They have nearly gotten the upper hand, and once he´ll be done with the mission, there should be enough time to get to the tower on his own before dealing with this problem. At least he knows what´s wrong with him.

Then an explosive hits him into the stomach, strong enough to leave a dent in his armour.

Tony feels like he´s been kicked by an elephant. He doubles over in mid flight, gasping for air, and involuntarily fires a repulsor beam from his gauntlet that barely misses Clint on the opposite roof top.

“It´s great that you want to show off your stunts, Stark, but please don´t try to kill your teammates.... again.”

The bitterness in Cap´s voice feels like another kick in the gut, but Tony can´t spare the breath for a comeback. He makes it to the ground in a tumble-flight, hoping noone observes him, and doubles over behind a large rock. He can barely get the faceplate up before he is retching again. He is pretty sure that he might very possibly be dying, because it hurts, every movement feels like being stabbed into the abdomen with a fucking knife. There´s no way he´s getting up right now, so he grants himself a few minutes, knowing he needs to return to the fight soon -

“Stark? What the fuck is going on?”

Nat is standing over him, all adrenaline and anger. Tony can't answer because he is still dry heaving, the sheer force of it driving tears into his eyes.

“Well?” she looks him up and down.

“It´s...never mind.” Tony forces his breathing to slow down and drags a metal glove over his mouth, doing nothing but spreading bile all over it. He realizes that he´s shaking, whether it is from fever or pain, he doesn´t know.

“Weren´t you supposed to be somewhere...not here?” His thoughts are not exactly coherent at the moment, but he is pretty sure that Nat should be inside the building right now, not in front of it.

“Well, sometimes we change plans when we realize that our teammates are hiding things from us. Things like....appendiscitis?”

“How the fuck do you - “

“You´re not the only one capable of extracting information from computer systems, wonder boy.”

“There´s no way you hacked Friday-”

“We had a little talk, from girl to girl. She was in the mood of chatting.”

“What the...”

Traitor. He´ll have to have a word with his AI, for sure, and remind her of her loyalties. After he stops dying, that is. Nat is still glaring at him, and there is no need to voice her accusation for Tony to know what she´s thinking.

“I'd have gone and fixed it in the tower.”

She starts to respond, but at that moment Tony spots two very unfriendly looking drones racing towards them at breakneck speed.

“Nat, down!” he shouts while firing a repulsor beam from his gauntlet. He only hits one of the drones, but it´s enough to get the other off its course for as long as it takes Nat to gun it down.

“That´s what I call teamwork,” he rasps, clutching his side, “See, I just saved your life, stop being mad.”

“You need to get to a hospital, Tony.”

Wow, he must actually be looking worse for wear for her to use his first name.

“Yeah...I´ll get on my way, just - just give me a moment.” He tries to get up, but his knees buckle and he groans in pain.

“You´re not going anywhere alone right now.” Nat states. “And anyways, you´re in no state to maneuver that suit. You´ll probably end up crashing into a skyscraper or something.”

She points at his armour. “Can you open this?”

“Ugh.”

He somehow, slowly, gets out of the suit, and every movement rips through his stomach like a blade. Nat supports him till her motorbike - he doesn´t know how she manages this, considering that he weighs probably twice as much as her even without the armour - and then starts maneuvering them through the streets of debris.

Tony allows himself to zone out. The adrenaline of the battle is wearing off, and it´s harder to concentrate on anything but the agony he´s in. He doesn't want to, but his head lands on her shoulder when he curls into himself for a tiny bit of comfort. Nat would usually slap him for this, or worse, but given that she doesn´t even comment, he must be in a pretty pathetic shape right now.

Ten minutes into the ride the motion seeps into his bones and he can´t keep his stomach in place anymore.

“Hey,” he weakly taps on her back, “Stop, Nat, I need to puke -”

She brings the bike to a standstill with a swerve that turns Tony´s stomach even further, and it´s all he can do to aim away from her leg when he bends forward  and retches. He´s long empty, but the dry heaving doesn´t stop, every ragged breath spiking pain in his abdomen that spreads through his back and his legs. He digs his fingers into Nat´s waist as not to topple over.

“Stark, it´s enough. Breathe now.”

There´s no pity or compassion in her voice, and Tony is grateful for that.

---

When they reach the hospital, Nat deposits him in a plastic chair in the waiting area and goes to handle the formalities. He tries to focus on his breathing and ignore the pain, but it´s hard.

In, out, stab. This is ridiculous, Iron Man being taken down by appendiscitis.

In, out, stab. He wishes he doesn´t throw up again.

In, out, stab. He wishes he still had his suit and Jarvis to distract him.

In, out stab. Or Friday, he´s not picky anymore. He´d settle for Dummy at this point.

In, out, stab. He wonders what Pepper is doing. If she misses him. Then he realizes that his thoughts are turning whiny, and focuses on mentally drawing up the design of an iron watch gauntlet.

He doesn´t catch much of what is happening through the waves of pain, and  he must have zoned out a bit again, because the blood tests are completed faster than seems possible, and suddenly he´s in a hospital bed, ready for surgery.

“You´d make a good PA, anyone told you that yet?” he asks when Nat makes him sign a form.

“I was being nice because you look like death, but there´s a limit, Stark.”

“Ah, that´s my little assassin. Was starting to miss you....”

---

The first thing he sees when he wakes up is a strand of red hair floating somewhere at the edge of his vision.

“Pepper?” he asks, more hoping than actually assuming it to be her.

The disappointment is still real when he recognizes that the red is wrong, too aggressive, that it's Nat´s. She raises her eyebrows sarcastically, but he catches a tiny hint of sadness playing around her mouth.

Tony props himself up a bit to look around. His mind is still hazy with painkillers, and the world is spinning quite a bit more than he´s comfortable with, but he is pretty sure that he isn´t hallucinating three Avengers around his hospital bed, clad in full battle gear and all.

“Am I a terminal cancer patient?” is the first thing he can think of.

“You won´ t believe that, but for you, we actually show up even if you´re in no immediate danger of kicking the bucket.” Clint replies.

Tony honestly hadn´t expected to see them here. Not after Ultron. He swallows down a disgustingly sweet surge of emotions, caused solely by the drugs in his blood-stream, nothing else, and searches for something to say.

His eyes find Steve´s face, on which bruises are beginning to show.

“You look beat up, Cap. Battle didn´t go so well without me?”

“They won, actually.” Nat states drily.

He should come up with something sophisticated now, but the meds must have reloaded, because his brain feels slow and muddled, as if it´s wrapped up in cotton.

“Oh,” he manages, then his vision tunnels, and the last thing he wonders before unconsciousness takes over is whether anyone has told Friday that he is okay.

The next time he comes to, it´s still not Pepper who is sitting uncomfortably on the tiny plastic chair next to his bed, but at least Steve has changed into a less-shiny civilian outfit.

"Hey there. I'm back, I guess." Tony greets hoarsely, his throat still a little rough.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asks, setting a glass of water with a straw on the bedside table.

"My mouth tastes like the last time I ate was back in 1940, my head´s pounding, and knowing that you were watching me sleep is creepy enough... But all considered, pretty relieved, with one appendix less to carry around."

Steve only gives a weak smile. A few minutes of slience follow in which Tony sips on the water and then proceeds to examine the surgical gauze taped onto his lower side.

Steve is the one to address the elephant in the room.

"Okay, now. This is just as unpleasant for me as it is for you, so let´s get over with this quickly. I don't have to tell you that you endangered the mission - ," he cuts of Tony's protest with a raised hand, "or how disappointing it is that you felt your health issues are concerning noone but yourself - “

"Rogers, we both know that you won´t get me to pour out my life´s secrets. And looking at the team, I'm by far not the only one who doesn't exactly open up to others."

Something dark crosses Steve's face, an expression Tony can't quite place, one he's not sure he should ask about.

"Point taken." Steve concedes. "But it has to be clear that you can´t compromise the missions. Next time you´re unable to fight - yes, appendiscitis counts into that - you have to report it. No compromise on that."

"Aye aye, Cap." Tony brings a hand to his forehead in a mocking salute, but he's still uncoordinated and misses by several inches.

Steve gives him a pointed look, but the tension slowly vanishes from his expression.

“We tried to contact Pepper, but we were unable to reach her,” he changes the topic, “She´s not at the tower?”

“She's busy. On a busy-ness trip." Tony replies. He somehow finds the pun much funnier than it deserves.

Steve frowns at him.

"Just leave it.” Tony deflects, avoiding Steve´s eyes.

“If you want to call her personally...” he pulls Tony´s mobile out of his jacket and sets it on the blanket. “I´ll be outside, get some coffee.”

Tony nods his approval and waits until Steve has closed the door before taking the phone. He twists it in between his fingers for a few times, his thumb hovering above the call icon with Pepper´s photo.

“Friday, you´re there?” he finally asks.

“Yes, Sir, and I am glad you are recovering.” the AI´s voice says from the phone speakers.

“Turn up AC/DC.” he instructs.

Then he sinks back into the pillows and listens when the music doesn´t quite manage to drive the silence away.