#the camping trip voicemail made me really happy

[gwynvi]

Nothing sweeter than a night under the stars

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit, MINORS BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 15/16 (all chapters)

UA’s press conference aired two days after the incident, a deceptively simple move in the grander scheme of things. Their status as a household name and initial hesitation to comment on the incident had captivated the country. By the time the conference began, everyone had grown morbidly curious. Reporters chomped at the bit for answers; the general public watched with bated breath.

Hizashi glowered into his beer at the izakaya, stomach churning as the other patrons watched in suspense.

Nemuri sat down in front of her TV, ready to bury her face in the pillow she held to her chest.

Shigaraki and the League of Villains watched with expressions of glee, glancing across at Bakugo every so often in the hopes of catching the exact moment he lost faith in hero society.

Jirou, Hagakure and the other students yet to recover from the forest attack watched from their hospital beds.

Midoriya, Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, Iida and Todoroki watched from Kamino ward, hands trembling at the grim reminder that they shouldn’t have been there.

Your mother watched from the couch in your childhood home, alternating between sewing and shooting disapproving glances at the television, all while your father bellowed into his cell phone, demanding to know the name of the person that had allowed Moonfish to escape. In an oddly fortuitous turn of events, UA had escaped his ire. He had been personally involved in Moonfish’s conviction and took your injuries as a slight on his honour. It had never occurred to him to blame UA.

The world watched as Aizawa, Nezu and Vlad stepped out onto center stage, a fact that was not at all lost on them. Vlad gave his tie a forceful tug before stepping out into public view. Shouta took a deep breath and followed.

He had taken a crash course in interview techniques the night before, though if anything Hizashi’s coaching methods made him even more nervous. Hizashi was used to taking interviews, a consequence of years as a public entertainer. Eraserhead was rarely seen in public, much less interviewed by the press.

As Shouta, Vlad and Nezu bowed in apology, your eyelids twitched. You opened one eye by a sliver and then the other, taking in the darkness around you. You were still woozy from surgery and multiple rounds of treatment from Recovery Girl, every inch of your body feeling like lead. You didn’t remember who you were, much less where you were, and your initial inspection of your surroundings gleaned little in the way of answers.

The last thing you saw before closing your eyes again, overwhelmed by exhaustion, was the punnet of peaches at the foot of your bed- a flash of colour in the otherwise monochromatic room.

You slept for two days after that, fingers and eyelids occasionally twitching. The doctors were hopeful that you would wake up soon, though the news of any potential recovery on your part was swiftly drowned out by the chaos in Kamino ward.

The age of All Might was over and all of hero society needed to adapt. UA needed a plan now more than ever.

You were moved to Musutafu’s city hospital three days after the incident, Recovery Girl insisting that you were well enough to make the trip and it would be more convenient to have you closer to home. You slept through most of this process, briefly opening your eyes and staring at the strip lights above your head as they wheeled you through the hospital corridors.

You woke up fully coherent the following morning, eyes burning as they opened. Your body didn’t feel as heavy as it had before, but it ached instead, as stiff and sore as if you had run a marathon at full speed.

You sat up and immediately regretted it, for your side throbbed and left you flinching. You stroked a hand over the spot, remembering the last few moments before you had lost consciousness. You remembered the blade cutting through you; remembered the tightness in your body and stench of blood. When you lifted your pyjama shirt, though, there was no wound, only a ghostly patch of raised skin.

You wondered how long you had been asleep and scanned the room for any sort of hint, heart fluttering at the realisation that you weren’t alone. Someone was sitting in the chair next to your bed, face obscured from view by a textbook and snoring softly.

From the clothes and book title, you were able to make an educated guess who lay beneath. You only knew one person who taught English grammar.

“Hizashi,” you murmured, reaching out to touch his arm. “Hizashi.”

You tapped his elbow and he shifted in place, perhaps thinking your touches were part of his dream.

“Hey...Hizashi.”

“Hmmm?”

You eased the textbook off his face and put it down on the bed, watching as he began to stir.

“You’ll get a crick in your neck if you sleep like that,” you said, poking his arm.

“Sorry, (Name),” he said sleepily, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face, only to freeze in place and realise what he’d said.

He jerked up straight and shoved on his glasses, hands trembling so much that it took several attempts to actually get them on, much less see you properly.

“You’re real, right? I’m not dreaming,” he said, sitting down on the bed next to you and throwing both arms around your shoulders, resting his chin on your head.

“If it is a dream, it’s pretty meta,” you said, reaching up to touch the arm closest to your collarbone and looking up into his face, gaining a faceful of scratchy, tearful kisses in response.

You remembered dialling Hizashi’s voicemail; the way you had cursed every time you reached his automated message.

You had resigned yourself to never seeing him again, but there he was, holding onto you and kissing your cheeks. You closed your eyes, absorbing his warm body and familiar scent, tears running down your own face before you realised what was happening.

“Hey, (Name),” he said, loosening his grip on you and stroking his fingers through your hair, “are you okay? Does it hurt?”

“I’m just so happy,” you sniffled, “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer,” he said, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

You sat in silence for a while, overwhelmed with emotion and enjoying the moment. You rested your head against Hizashi’s chest, afraid that he’d disappear into smoke if you let go.

Unfortunately, the more you relaxed and focussed on his heartbeat, the more memories of that night came flooding back. You remembered stumbling through the woods, remembered why you had dialled his number in the first place.

You couldn’t breathe, your heart raced, memories of USJ creatures and men with patchwork faces dominating your every thought.

You knew you were having a panic attack; you knew dozens of techniques to get through them. Even so, it had been such a long time since you had had one and it crept up on you with so little warning that you were powerless to do anything. All you could do was grip onto Hizashi for dear life, hands growing sweaty and chest rattling with shallow breaths.

Hizashi picked up on your struggle relatively quickly and stroked a hand over your back, gently prising you off him and slipping one of his bracelets off his wrist.

“Here we go,” he said, slipping it onto yours, “slow and steady, focus on my voice.”

You reached for the bracelet and snapped the elastic against your exposed skin, relishing the sharp shock that rippled through your body and eased you back to earth.

“Just like that,” said Hizashi, stroking your hair, “nice and easy.”

You took a deep breath and rubbed your temples, head clearing and tension slowly leaving your body.

“How long have I been out?”

“About a week.”

“A week ?”

From the heaviness of your body and severity of your wounds, you assumed it had been much, much longer.

“Did you get my message? The address? What-“

“One thing at a time, princess,” he laughed. “A lot happened while you were asleep.”

“Really?”

“Well, for a start, UA’s reputation has taken a nosedive. Almost all of the students at the camp were injured-“ he reached for your shoulders as you flinched at the news, “-they’re fine, don’t worry!”

“Ragdoll,” you whispered, remembering the way she had told you to run, “is she-“

Get out of here, (Name). Tell the others!

Hizashi’s grave expression was all you needed to know. You clapped a hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” you whispered, Hizashi letting go of your shoulders and holding you to his chest. “It wasn’t…”

“I know, sweetie, I know. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

“No, I need to know,” you said, wiping your eyes. “Is she dead?”

You needed closure.

“No,” said Hizashi, “she and Bakugo were taken away by the League of Villains. Ragdoll lost her quirk, but Bakugo was rescued in time…in part because someone led us straight to their front door.”

“Poor Ragdoll,” you sniffed. “And Bakugo? Is he…”

“He’s going to be fine,” said Hizashi. “The League wanted to recruit him, but no such luck.”

You knew from conversations with Shouta exactly how volatile he could be. It was naive to think villains wouldn’t have noticed it too.

“Wait,” you said, “Shouta...”

Had he been caught up in the villain attack? Was he okay? You remembered dialling his number too.

Hizashi frowned, which only added fuel to the fire.

“Hiz...Hizashi? I-“

You willed him to tell you Shouta was fine, that he hadn’t thrown himself into danger. You knew him too well to believe that, though. You remembered how angry you had been with him after the events of USJ; how quickly he had thrown himself into the line of fire to protect his students.

Your throat tightened and you snapped the bracelet against the inside of your wrist.

“He’s fine,” said Hizashi. “Came out of it with nothin’ but bruises. Thing is, though…because of everything that’s happened in the last few months...a lot of people have lost faith in UA. We’ve grown negligent, taken peace for granted…”

“What are you saying?”

“Something happened the night they rescued Bakugo,” he said. “All Might’s power. It’s gone.”

“ Gone ?”

“I don’t know all of the details,” he said, “only that he can’t use his quirk to fight anymore. He’s going to retire soon. Without him, though…”

You shuddered, knowing exactly where this was going. All Might had maintained Japan’s low crime rate for decades. His departure from the hero ranks would almost certainly create a power vacuum on both sides.

“What does that have to do with Shouta?”

“Well, as I said, UA’s reputation has well and truly tanked,” said Hizashi. “Sho, Nezu, Vlad and All Might are going to visit the students today...try and persuade their parents to let them come back.”

You tried to absorb the news, habitually snapping the bracelet on your wrist to keep you grounded.

“Is he...okay?”

Shouta would blame himself for this. You knew that much without having to ask and Hizashi chuckled under his breath.

“As good as anyone can be when their lady’s in the ICU.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that. You remembered plotting with the Pussycats, the strategy they had put in place so the two of you could talk alone.

You’d never mentioned your feelings for Shouta to Hizashi. You’d never told him the pair of you had slept together. Before leaving for summer camp, you didn’t think you had never given him any reason to suspect you might have been Shouta’s ‘lady’.

Of course, the more you thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. You remembered calling him ‘Shouta’ in conversation without realising; remembered probing Hizashi for his address. Hizashi wasn’t an idiot and knew Shouta better than you ever would. It was naive to think he wouldn’t have noticed something was off about the two of you.

“You knew about that, huh?”

“You kiddin’? I don’t get how anyone could meet you and not fall in love with you.”

His words were so sincere that you giggled.

“I’m serious,” he said. “Did you know you have your own background music? What’s it like having cherubs sing behind you every time you take a step?”

“Stop it,” you said, face flushing red, “you’re making me blush!!”

“Good,” he said, kissing your forehead.

“Say, Hizashi.”

“Mm?”

“Don’t call me Shouta’s lady like I can’t be yours as well.”

There was no point dancing around the point now. You were well past the stage of breaking it to him gently.

For a second, you wondered if you’d made a mistake. He sat incredibly still, breath warm against your forehead. Slowly, he lowered his face, touching his forehead to yours as he caught your lips.

“Hizashi,” you murmured into his open mouth as he broke the contact.

“Sssh,” he said, cupping your face and moving in to kiss you again, “the cherubs brought out tiny violins.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“Adds to the appeal, don’t ya think?”

You looped your arms around his neck to draw him in deeper and lowered yourself down onto the bed. He crushed his lips against yours, every kiss sending ripples through your core.

It felt so good that you forgot you were in a hospital and why you were there. In that moment there was only you, Hizashi and months of lost time.

Hizashi slipped a hand under your pyjama shirt, lifting the fabric higher to expose your scar. He broke away from you and sat up a little to get a good look at it, pouting as you instantly dragged your shirt back down.

“I guess my two piece days are over,” you said, blushing bright red in an attempt to deflect your embarrassment.

You had exactly two scars on your entire body and both were from Moonfish, each as ugly as the other. Hizashi linked his fingers through yours and guided your hand away from your shirt.

“I was just thinking,” he said, exposing your scar, “it makes me kinda nostalgic.”

“Nostalgic? For w-“

You caught his meaning too late, remembering the night you’d slept together. You remembered the moment he dragged off the condom and came across your middle, covering you in spots as ghostly white as the raised skin.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” you squeaked, hiding your face in your hands.

“Am I wrong?”

He prised your hands away from your face, grinning widely. He wasn’t wrong and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“(Name), look at me.”

Against your better judgement, you looked up at him, only for him to lean over and steal a kiss.

“Am I wrong?” he murmured, face inches from yours.

You looked up into his face, slipping a hand out of his and tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

“No.”

You looked into each other’s faces for a while, enjoying the warmth and one another’s presence. You had had so much to say, but the events at the lodge had given you a new perspective. It didn’t matter to you anymore if you said it out loud. Actions spoke far louder than an awkwardly planned confession ever would.

“Let’s get out of here,” you said at last.

“You sure?” said Hizashi, nuzzling his face against your hand. “You were really badly hurt, ya know? Couldn’t hurt to rest for a little longer.”

“No,” you said, motioning for him to get up. “I have work to do.”

You had been gone for a week and the world had fallen apart. The children needed you; your colleagues needed you. They were the future of hero society and had already suffered enough. You couldn’t fix the world or undo the night at the lodge, but at the very least you could give them pats to the head and a sympathetic ear.

~~~~~~

It took a lot of coaxing for the doctors to let you discharge yourself. They insisted that you still needed rest, to which you argued you needed fresh air. You pouted your way through their examinations and tests, insisting you had rested enough. Your wounds weren’t open anymore and you hadn’t been on a ventilator since arriving in Musutafu. You were wobbly on your feet, but you weren’t in danger and you weren’t alone.

“Be careful,” your doctor sighed as you handed over your discharge papers, “your injuries were severe and it’s important you don’t push yourself too much.”

“I’ll be okay,” you said, knowing that he couldn’t stop you even if he wanted to.

“Don’t worry, doc,” said Hizashi, lifting you up into his arms like a newly wedded wife. “I’ve got Recovery Girl on speed dial.”

You giggled as he carried you out of the hospital and into the car park, holding you gently so as not to aggravate your injured side.

“Do you really have Recovery Girl on speed dial?”

“Of course I do,” he said in mock offense, “though I called her so many times this week that I’m pretty sure she blocked me.”

“Wow, should I be jealous?”

Hizashi laughed, stopping in place to kiss you on the lips.

“ Are you jealous?”

“Just surprised,” you said. “I didn’t have Recovery Girl pegged as a cougar.”

The pair of you sniggered as you crossed the car park, arriving at a flashy car that could only belong to Hizashi. He set you down on your feet as he reached for his keys and opened the doors, easing you into the passenger side front seat as if you were made of glass.

“Comfortable?” he asked as he fastened his own seatbelt. “I have some cushions in the back if you want one.”

“You sleep there often?”

“Only when I’ve got company!”

The ride home was a short one, though you made sure to absorb every detail; the soft synthwave music playing through the car radio; the city’s afternoon glow; Hizashi’s hand slipping into yours whenever you hit traffic.

Hizashi pulled up outside of your house and went on ahead to unlock your front door before helping you inside. You lingered in the doorway, Hizashi a couple of steps behind you.

“You good, little listener?”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a deep breath before crossing the threshold, “it’s just been a while, that’s all.”

Your home was exactly the same as when you’d left it, which shouldn’t have surprised you, yet did all the same. You hadn’t been there for so long that it smelled foreign. You normally didn’t smell the pot pourri or candles you had used to decorate the place, but suddenly they overpowered your senses.

You had left in a hurry, without much time to tidy up. Your breakfast dishes from that morning were still drying on the rack; your pyjamas lay abandoned in the laundry basket. You had left your laptop on the kitchen table, a pamphlet for Yamanashi next to it.

It was like a perfectly preserved time capsule and Hizashi wrapped an arm around your shoulder at your hesitation.

“We can go to my place if you’d like,” he said gently, “if it’s easier.”

“No,” you said, snapping the bracelet against your wrist and taking a few shaky steps towards the couch. “It’s fine.”

You sank down onto your couch, rummaging through your purse as Hizashi pottered around in the kitchen. At some point someone had switched off your phone and you turned it over in your hands, all too aware of how spotlessly clean it was. Someone had scrubbed away the bloody fingerprints, perhaps the same someone who had painted your nails. You spread out your fingers as you powered on your phone, taking note of how carefully it had been done.

Your phone came on at 13% battery, immediately bursting to life with messages, missed calls and voicemails.

You recalled the USJ incident, how overwhelmed you had felt back then when you had been in no danger at all and out of contact for only a few hours. This time you had a week’s worth of notifications to sort through. The groupchat you shared with your girlfriends had exploded; you had voicemails and missed calls from your brother, as well as a few from your mom. You had missed calls from Hizashi and Nemuri, though one name cropped up more than any other. Shouta seemed to have called you multiple times a day every day since the incident.

“Hey,” said Hizashi, sitting down next to you with a cup of steaming tea, “enough of that.”

He prised the phone out of your grip and set it down on the coffee table, slipping the tea into your hands instead.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, though for the tea or the intervention you weren’t quite sure.

~~~~

Several hours later, you sipped ice water at the izakaya, Hizashi peering out from your booth to the doors.

As a morale boost, he had invited the other teachers to the izakaya for drinks that evening. If the students refused to come back, they could drink away their woes. If they agreed, they could raise a toast to the new school year.

He hadn’t expected you to be awake, much less eager to join them, but you had looked so desperately lonely that he couldn’t refuse. What’s more, he didn’t want to leave you on your own. He never wanted to ever again.

You had gotten there early, long before any of the regulars, much less other teachers. Despite being the one to suggest getting wasted in the first place, Hizashi stuck to soda, not quite so desperate to let loose that he was willing to drive you home drunk.

He stole glances at you every so often, watching for any shiver or grimace of pain. It had seemed like a good idea to steal you away from the hospital at the time. Perhaps it was selfishness on his part, but he wanted to relive the moment of joy when you spoke his name. He could think of no better way to do so than by reuniting you with the other teachers, who needed the excitement now more than ever.

Now, though, he wondered if he’d done the right thing.

After you had finished up your tea, he’d sent you away for a nap. You had been reluctant to go, but he’d insisted, claiming you needed your strength for the partying that night. You’d pouted as he tucked you in, only to fall asleep again in minutes.

For the past few days, Hizashi and Nemuri had taken turns visiting your hospital bed. They both had lesson planning to do, though nothing they couldn’t do remotely. Shouta had visited a few times as well, though lesson planning and dealing with the fallout of Bakugo’s rescue took up almost all of his time.

Hizashi had continued to plot out his schedule while you slept, getting up every so often to poke his head through your bedroom door.

Even now he watched you like a hawk. He knew your movements were slower than usual, that your injured side burned with pain if you stretched too far. He had helped you bathe and dress ahead of the night at the izakaya, only too happy to rinse the smell of the hospital from your hair under the guise of being a pervert.

It was a useful facade, for whenever you caught him glancing in your direction, all he had to do was slip a hand onto your thigh and tell you you were pretty to deflect how concerned he still was and likely would be for the rest of your lives.

Nemuri was the first to arrive, massaging her shoulders as she stood at the bar. She glanced around the room to see who else had arrived and waved at Hizashi, unable to see you because of the angle of the booth.

She cursed as she arrived at the table, beers under her arm as well as a portion of garlic fries.

“Wake me up when the-” she grumbled as she arrived at the booth, freezing in place when she saw you sitting there.

“Hi,” you said, to which she let out a shriek of joy and threw herself into the seat beside you.

“It’s you!” she cried out, trapping you in a tight hug that she swiftly reconsidered. “It’s really you!”

“Yep,” you said as she pressed your head against her chest and carded her fingers through your hair, “it’s really me.”

“How did you... when did you?!”

She glanced from you to Hizashi, suspicion and joy playing out across her face. You had been fast asleep the last time she visited you, fingers occasionally twitching.

“This morning,” said Hizashi, leaning back against the walls of the booth and sipping his soda.

He’d considered texting her with the news, but you had been sleeping at the time and he knew she’d come right over. He’d considered texting Shouta too but decided against it. It would come across as incredibly unprofessional if a text came through while he was speaking to a concerned parent, after all. In the end, for better or worse, selfish or otherwise, he’d left it as a surprise.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she said, tears rolling down her face. “Pinch me.”

You pinched her arm and she cupped your face, swiftly squishing you against her again.

“I’m coming to stay with you for the next few days,” she said, “we can watch movies, I can do the cooking-”

“Nemuri, she just got out of the hospital.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” she said, glowering at Hizashi and stroking your hair. “(Name), just ignore him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Hizashi protested the point, though you barely paid attention, catching only the occasional word here and there. Nemuri combed her fingers through your hair, defending both her honour and cooking skills.

“Honestly,” she said at last, reaching up to touch her own cheek. “I should go and fix my makeup. (Name), you come too!”

Neither you nor Hizashi commented on the fact that her makeup was fine and you weren’t wearing any.

~~~~

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

Nemuri paused, eyeliner pen in hand.

“Whatever do you mean?”

She had lifted you up onto the counter to get a better angle, silently painting away the dark circles under your eyes and returning the colour to your cheeks.

You spread out your fingers, flashing your scarlet fingernails.

“Guilty as charged,” she said. “It was the least I could do, considering…”

You remembered the last conversation you had had with her, right before you had rushed out of the door to meet Shouta and take on her duties as chaperone. She had sounded so upset over the phone; you had gone without a second thought.

“You couldn’t have known what would happen,” you said, tilting your head as she applied the eyeliner. “No one could have.”

“(Name),” she said, swallowing loudly, “the truth is...there was never anything wrong with me. I sent you there because...Hizashi and I wanted you and Aizawa to talk.”

“Huh?”

You had wanted to get Shouta alone, of course, but hadn’t thought of the trip to the lodge as anything more than a lucky break.

Not for the first time that day, you realised exactly how naive you had been. How many conflicts had passed by without your notice? How many sacrifices?

Shouta had pushed you towards Hizashi, Hizashi had pushed you towards Shouta. Both wanted the other to be happy, both wanted the best for all involved.

You laughed, you couldn’t help it. Every moment of hesitation; every second thought; it had always been part of something much bigger. You had always been part of a far more intricate sequence of events and now it was unravelling before your eyes.

You laughed so hard that your eyes blurred with tears, Nemuri joining in soon after.

“I’m such an idiot,” you said. “We’re all such idiots.”

Nemuri laughed with you, doubling over and smudging your makeup in the process.

“It’s really been that simple the whole time,” you spluttered, “ all this time .”

You laughed until your side hurt and you sucked in a deep breath, touching your hand to the spot as Nemuri ran a makeup wipe over your smudged eyeliner.

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Speak to Aizawa at the lodge.”

“Oh,” you said. “No. The attack happened before…”

Nemuri tossed aside the wipe and folded her arms with a smirk.

“Seems to me that you three have a lot to talk about,” she said, glancing from you to the makeup bag. “I need to rethink this...I need to rethink all of this .”

She reached for different eyeshadows and fresh brushes, ready to paint you in different colours.

“You listen to me, kitten,” she said, reaching for lipstick, “if they mess around with you like this again…” she ran her thumb over your bottom lip, “you come to me.”

Her thumb was warm against your lip, gentle enough to tickle but hard enough to bring heat to your cheeks.

Was she...

Surely she wasn’t...

Surely she didn't…

Your eyes darted from her slender fingers to the bright red polish coating her nails; the same shade she had used to paint your own. She smelled intoxicatingly sweet, like the fancy soap stores you often passed in Roppongi, the ones that left their doors wide open to lure in passers by with exotic fragrances.

Right then you felt just as curious; imagination wandering to paths never taken and decisions never made. A different lover in a different bathroom...maybe even this one.

“O-okay.”

~~~~~

Night had fallen by the time Shouta arrived at the izakaya, loosening off his tie with a grunt. He hadn’t bothered to hide the fact that he didn’t want to go. He could think of a dozen or more things he’d rather be doing. He had lesson planning to do, streets to patrol and that was without mention of stopping by the hospital. Your transfer to Musutafu made things a lot more convenient in theory, though his schedule had been so unforgiving that he still hadn’t been able to visit as much as he wanted to.

He walked towards the bar, ready to order something fruity and deceptively strong. For a moment at least, he wanted to distract himself from the chaos of the past few weeks.

“Sho,” said Hizashi, stepping out from a booth and draping an arm across his shoulders. “You made it!”

“Looks that way,” he said, eyes immediately darting around the room.

It had been a few days since they’d slept together and, in truth, he was still waiting for it to feel wrong. Hizashi had never been a stranger to putting an arm around his shoulders or reaching for his arm, but there was something different about his touches now. Shouta half expected everyone in the izakaya to stop what they were doing and stare in disgust, yet they carried on as if nothing had happened. Snipe and Nemuri faced off against each other on one of the arcade machines while Cementoss and Vlad played pool. Thirteen was sitting in a nearby booth with Ectoplasm, engrossed in a game of poker. All Might and Nezu discussed the day’s events, drinks long forgotten.

Shouta wasn’t used to public displays of affection. He wasn’t used to dating or letting down his guard. He had brushed off any of Hizashi’s attempts to hold hands, had been deliberately non-committal in arranging dates, and all because it felt like a betrayal. He wasn’t ashamed of being with another man, didn’t care that said man happened to be Hizashi. He did, however, care a good deal about doing either of those things without your blessing.

He didn’t want to commit to another person without hearing what it was you’d had to say that day at the lodge. He had told himself that you were better off not knowing how far you had gotten under his skin, but he didn’t believe himself anymore. He wanted the first thing you heard from him to be a prayer: a prayer that you wouldn’t leave him again; a prayer that you would forgive him for every time he had pushed you away and been upset when you didn’t follow.

Hizashi, who not only knew him better than he knew himself but had found himself in a similar predicament, didn’t push. Shouta told himself he would thank him for it when all of this was over.

“Listen,” said Hizashi, expression grave as he flagged down the bartender, “don’t freak out, okay?”

“Freak out? About what?”

“Hmmm...well…”

“You can’t just tell me not to freak out without context.”

“Uhhhh...well...the thing is…(Name) woke up earlier on today.”

Shouta’s eyes widened. He was glad he hadn’t yet ordered a drink, for he was certain it would have shattered on the floor.

“I have to go,” he said without a moment’s hesitation. “I need to-”

He moved to leave, only to look back in surprise as Hizashi took hold of his arm.

“What are you doing? Let me go.”

Before this, Hizashi had encouraged him to go and see you. Why was he stopping him now?

“She discharged herself,” he said. “You won’t find her there.”

“She what ,” said Shouta, pulling his arm away. “That idiot , what was she thinking?”

“Wait,” said Hizashi, grabbing his arm again, “where are you going now?”

“Where do you think? I’m going to her house,” he said. “What if she tries to cook something and passes out by the oven? What if she tries to take a bath and dr-”

“Sho,” said Hizashi, looking more than a little bit offended, “you won’t find her there either.”

Shouta blinked, contemplating where else you might have gone. Had you gone to your parents’ house? No, he knew for a fact that it was unlikely. He paid close attention to just about everything you said and you hadn’t exactly made a secret of how little contact you had with your immediate family.

Had Hizashi set you up at his place? Had Nemuri taken you to hers?

Where were you?

He needed to talk to you, needed to wipe the last memory of you from his imagination. He didn’t want to speak your name and immediately think of you pinned to a tree. He didn’t want to remember your voice as a croak of despair.

Hizashi chewed at his bottom lip and Shouta’s imagination ran wild.

Was this his weird way of telling him you’d died?

“She’s over there,” said Hizashi at last, nodding his head towards All Might’s booth.

Shouta’s blood ran cold.

No way.

No fucking way.

He had wanted to speak to you so badly for so long. He’d wanted to see you up and about on your feet, back at UA as if nothing had happened. Now that you were there, though, in the same room and surrounded by other teachers, he didn’t trust himself to look at you. What if he fell to pieces like he had on that night at the lodge?

“You okay?” said Hizashi, prodding at his arm.

“I’m fine,” he said with a sigh. “Just...”

He wasn’t prepared to be vulnerable in plain sight. He didn’t know how he’d react when he saw you.

“Okay,” said Hizashi. “Hear me out…”

~~~~~

The past week had passed by you in a second, yet it felt like you hadn’t seen your colleagues in years and apparently the feeling was mutual. You found yourself on the receiving end of more hugs than you could count, more pats to the head in half an hour than you had received in the past twenty years.

That was without mention of your ever expanding collection of ice water. Everyone wanted to buy you a drink and you knew for a fact you couldn’t drink them all.

You ran your fingers through the condensation on your nearest glass as All Might and Nezu discussed the home visits, eyes darting to the izakaya doors every time they opened.

You had expected Shouta to arrive with All Might and struggled to contain your disappointment when that wasn’t the case. The more time passed, the more nervous you became. Part of you hated the idea of the first years’ hard work and training going to waste, but you didn’t know what you would do in their parents’ position. If your child went through the same experiences as 1-A and B, would you allow them to go back? Would your need to protect them overpower your need to see them happy?

You were biased and you knew it.

It was almost a relief when Hizashi came back to the booth and reached out an arm.

“C’mon, Little Listener,” he said, guiding you out of the booth and onto your feet, “let’s stretch those legs and greet your adoring public!”

You linked your arm through his and used his weight to steady your own, grateful for the prospect of leaving the booth even temporarily. You had been sitting there for so long that you were pretty sure it had remolded your butt.

“This way,” said Hizashi, leading you past the arcade machine and jukebox, through a side door that led outside to the back of the izakaya.

You took a gulp of fresh air, relishing the coolness against your skin.

“You okay, sweetness?”

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s good to see everyone again.”

He laughed softly, patting his hand over the one you had linked through his.

“ Almost everyone,” he said, pointing out a shadowy figure further along the street. You followed his gaze, eyes blurring with tears.

You would have known that silhouette anywhere.

You had wanted to see Shouta for so long; had wanted to speak to him for longer. There he was, right in front of you, and none of it seemed real.

He looked good , dressed up in a suit, though plainly tired of it, for he had taken off his tie and unfastened his top two buttons, leaving his collarbones on full display. You realised this was the first time you’d seen him with his hair up since Ego and, in all honesty, you were surprised your knees didn’t buckle.

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Hizashi, clapping his hands together and stepping back into the izakaya, leaving the pair of you completely alone.

You stared at Shouta; he stared at you, neither of you quite believing this was happening.

“I,” you said at last, “the thing is…”

You never got to finish your sentence, for Shouta moved, stepping closer and resting his head on your shoulder. For a moment, you were sure your heart stopped.

“Forgive me,” he murmured into your neck, voice rumbling against your skin. You closed your eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks.

You considered asking him what it was he wanted forgiveness for, though decided against it. He’d spent the entire day apologising for events out of his control and this wasn’t the time to dwell on them even more.

You reached up to cradle his body, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other combing through his hair.

“Okay,” you whispered back, saying nothing of the wetness against your neck from tears that were not your own.

He lifted his head and touched his forehead to yours, catching your lips in his in a kiss that consumed every inch of you, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes; a kiss you wanted to burn you to ashes and scatter you on the evening air; a kiss you would remember with perfect clarity for the rest of your life, long after other details of that night lay forgotten.

~~~~

You stayed at the izakaya for another hour or two, Hizashi’s jacket draped over your shoulders while both he and Shouta hovered in your general vicinity like a pair of mother hens.

All Might and Nezu were the first to leave, staying only for a couple of rounds and catch up with Shouta, followed a short while later by Thirteen. Nemuri, who had had more than a little bit to drink by that point, tried to persuade everyone else to finish up the night at a club. Ordinarily, Hizashi would have said yes, but he had other responsibilities today, namely getting you home and finally hashing it out with you and Shouta.

He didn’t speak much at all on the drive to your house, glancing at you in his rear view mirror every time you hit traffic lights. He wanted to reach out for Shouta’s hand as he had yours; to congratulate him properly for his hard work that day. Once or twice, as you leaned your head against the passenger side window and drifted in and out of sleep, he reached in Shouta’s direction, only to pass it off as resting his hand against the gear stick.

Even if he did make contact, he knew Shouta wouldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t do anything without your knowledge. It was exactly the sort of honour he loved him for, but did nothing to warm his fingertips. Hizashi loved to touch and be touched; he liked being on the receiving end of attention almost as much as he liked giving it out. Not being able to touch Shouta was like being starved of oxygen and he felt himself wither with every second that passed.

It was a relief when they finally arrived at your house, Shouta lifting you up into his arms as you rifled through your purse for the key.

Hizashi followed the pair of you inside, watching as Shouta set you down on the couch and slipped off your shoes with a good deal of care- far more care than he ever afforded himself.

“We need to talk,” Shouta said as you rubbed your eyes.

“Sho,” said Hizashi, suddenly paranoid that you would be too tired for such an important conversation.

You sat up straight, though - of course you did - not quite wide awake, but coherent.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Let’s talk.”

The three of you sat in silence for a while. None of you had ever imagined getting this far.

Finally, Shouta broke it.

“I fucked Hizashi,” he said, so bluntly that Hizashi choked on his own spit.

“Hey, you...you don’t have to put it like that!”

“Why not,” shrugged Shouta. “It’s what happened.”

“Well yes, but...it sounds so dirty .”

For Hizashi, at least, it had been more than just fucking and even though he knew Shouta wasn’t an overly sentimental kind of guy, the notion that he felt otherwise prickled at his skin. He had been one too many people’s one night stand for it not to.

You glanced from Hizashi to Shouta with an unreadable expression. Finally, you nodded, crossing one leg over the other in the pose you very often took at your desk.

“Okay.”

Hizashi was sure his stomach fell through the floor. He’d expected you to be shocked, hurt or at the very least confused. He hadn’t expected your reaction to be so subdued.

“Does it bother you?” said Shouta.

“Why would it?”

“Well...uh…”

Hizashi glanced from you to Shouta, increasingly agitated by both of your poker faces. You were normally far more expressive than this and it was making him nervous.

“I fucked Hizashi too,” you shrugged and it took everything in him not to gasp.

It was one thing for Shouta to say it, but you?

“Does it bother you two?” you said. “That I’ve slept with you both.”

“Of course not,” said Hizashi, so quickly that it was a surprise even to himself.

The idea of being upset with you and Shouta for sleeping with each other was absurd. He wasn’t even completely upset that you’d kept it from him for so long. Shouta hadn’t been upset by the revelation that you had slept with him either, accepting it as easily as if he’d been told the pair of you had gone to the movies or eaten dinner.

“Then why should it bother me ?”

“We’re both men,” said Shouta almost immediately, to which you finally broke out into a smile.

“Trust me, I’ve noticed.”

“If we did it again...would it bother you?”

“Do you want to do it again?”

“Yes,” said Shouta, once again without any sort of hesitation.

“ Really ?” said Hizashi, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Sure.”

You sighed and rubbed your temples, adjusting your weight on the couch. Both Hizashi and Shouta stepped forwards to help but you waved them away.

“It’s okay with me,” you said. “It’s not like I own either of you. You don’t need my permission.”

“No, but I want it,” said Shouta, stubborn as ever.

You pushed yourself up from the couch and folded your arms, wrapping your fingers in the sleeves of Hizashi’s jacket.

“Do you remember how all of this began?”

“ Ego ,” said Shouta.

“No, before that,” you said, shaking your head. “When I got dumped...it made me question everything. Akira told me he didn’t want to settle down, he didn’t want to lock himself into a particular path...and I hated him for it. I thought I wasn’t good enough, that I was boring, that my entire life until that point had been a waste of time…”

“(Name),” said Hizashi, but you waved him off.

“I understand it now, though,” you said. “It was never really about Akira. It’s just...up until then I’d always been the one who settled. I was always the one who made sacrifices and hard choices. I was always the one who caved. Up until Ego I’d never done anything self indulgent. I’d never thrown caution to the wind and chased something I wanted. Until then I’d shaped myself to fit other people, because at some point I’d convinced myself that everything I actually wanted was silly or an imposition.”

You breathed a heavy sigh, cheeks flushing a bright pink.

“I want both of you,” you said. “I don’t want to choose or settle. Life’s too short to talk yourself out of doing things that make you happy. If you want to choose, I’ll support it, but don’t feel like you have to because of me.”

Hizashi looked across at Shouta. Shouta looked at him. Both of them turned to look at you and all of the confidence melted from your body.

“That is…” you said, shuffling on the spot, “I mean…”

“This is new territory,” said Hizashi at last, “it’ll take time to figure it out.”

“If it doesn’t work we can just reset,” shrugged Shouta, “it’s not a problem.”

“We’ll need to,” you said, trying and failing to stifle a yawn, “....go over boundaries.”

“We can have a longer conversation about it tomorrow,” said Hizashi, as you rubbed your eyes. “It’s been a long day.”

He reached into his pocket for his car keys, turning to Shouta with a knowing look.

Hizashi had had you all to himself for much of the day. It was only fair that Shouta got some time too, especially considering how much you likely still had to talk about. He doubted either of you would declare your undying love in an alley behind the izakaya.

“I’m heading home,” he said, “you two...don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

~~~~

After Hizashi left, you and Shouta fell into a comfortable silence. He helped you into your pyjamas and tucked you up in bed, planting kisses on your forehead any time you got close enough. It was so casually affectionate that you thought your heart might burst and you quite deliberately turned your face to his for more attention.

Your heart sank, though, when he actually tucked you in.

“I’ll be right next door,” he said, backing away, “call me if you need anything.”

You glanced from your bed to him, finally pulling back the sheets and motioning for him to come closer. You had wanted to hold onto him for what felt like an eternity and you weren’t going to pass up the chance now that it was right in front of you.

“Come here,” you said, patting the space next to you. “Get in.”

He considered it, the dilemma visibly playing out across his face.

“Fine,” he said, “move over that way.”

You did exactly that, wondering what his motives were. It would have been easier for him to take the side you pointed out to him. Had he picked the other side for no other reason than to be contrarian? It wasn’t outside the realms of possibility, but you had a feeling that wasn’t the case.

He unbuttoned his shirt and dragged it from his shoulders, exposing the sharp angles and scars of his body. This wasn’t the first time he’d done so in this room and heat pooled inside of you at the memory. You hadn’t been able to stop yourself staring then, either. You had seen the scar on his face from USJ, but not the mark on his elbow. You skimmed over the ripples in his skin, the same discoloration as on your own body.

Realisation sank in.

Shouta did indeed have a reason for choosing that side of the bed and it was far simpler than you might have imagined.

Anyone who broke into your house would have to pass your couch. Shouta had picked the side of the bed that was closest to the door. Anyone who came in would have to go through him to get to you.

You lifted up the covers so he could crawl in beside you, heart skipping a beat as he rested his head on the pillow. He looked at you in confusion, no doubt feeling your eyes on him.

“What is it?”

You rested your head on his chest.

“Nothing.”

In this situation, Hizashi would surely have pestered you for an answer. Shouta was almost certainly curious, but he didn’t say so, instead combing strands of hair out of your face in an attempt to see more of you.

You closed your eyes and listened to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the warmth of his body enclosing yours. He held you close, though not so tightly that it hurt, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you to sleep.

You fell asleep safe and warm, with a peaceful expression that Shouta watched long into early morning.

~~~~~~

A week passed.

Your energy returned, albeit slowly. It took the best part of a day to get through your notifications and update your friends and family on your condition, much less make the time to have them over. It took all of your energy on that first day to make a single pot of tea, much less make conversation.

Nemuri, true to her word, stopped in every morning to make breakfast and help with laundry. Her cooking wasn’t the best and you found yourself redoing the laundry more often than not, but her heart was in the right place and you couldn’t bring yourself to turn down her offer.

Hizashi created a group chat with you, Shouta and himself as the only members. You knew exactly what it was for the moment you received an invitation, smiling at the emojis he had used as a title: 🐱 🎤 👑

If you were all going to date it made sense to have a group chat, though it made your stomach flutter nonetheless. You still couldn’t quite believe you’d signed up for this, much less that Hizashi and Shouta were just as up for it as you were.

It didn’t sink in even as the three of you ordered food and worked over the final details, which in the end took only a matter of minutes. You were all fairly laid back when it came to preferences and boundaries. You didn’t mind who slept with who or how many dates you had with each other. You were all busy for one reason or another and there was no point in keeping score.

You discussed threesomes last of all. Given your triangular relationship, it had always only been a matter of time before it cropped up in conversation. You and Shouta had never had one, while Hizashi’s experience mostly amounted to drunken fumbling with beautiful strangers. He’d never done it with anyone he wanted to date, much less anyone he actually was . It was new territory for everyone and all three of you were nervous for different reasons.

You agreed that if you were to test run something of that nature, it made sense to do so before the next school term. The teachers would become incredibly busy almost overnight and, while Nezu had gotten you a temporary replacement for the first couple of weeks, you would have just as much to catch up on when you returned.

And so it was that Hizashi sent an address to the group chat, one sent you flushing a bright pink.

👑: You do realise that’s a love hotel?

🎤: Yup! Best for it to be on neutral ground, don’t you think?

👑: I guess you’re right .

🎤: Plus, this one has alllllll kinds of facilities. They have a minibar, they sell toys at the counter, they have every kind of lube and condom you can dream of...it’s the perfect place for  de p r a v i t y

👑: what do you think, Shouta?

🐱: whatever

🎤: Then it’s settled! We’re going to have so much fun! 🎉 🎉 🎉

You lowered your phone into your lap with a giggle, which prompted Nemuri to look over from the kitchen with a raised eyebrow.

She hadn’t asked too many questions about who it was you were always texting, mostly because she hadn’t needed to. Hizashi and Shouta took turns staying the night with you long after the strength returned to your legs. It never progressed any further than cuddles and they were always gone before she arrived, but you knew she wasn’t a fool and had likely already guessed what was going on. You’d agreed to tell her once the dust had settled and you’d figured things out.

“Something funny?”

“Somewhere, at this very moment, I’m pretty sure Shouta’s questioning his life choices,” you said between giggles.

“Ahhh,” she said, reaching into your cupboard for dishes, “must be Tuesday.”

~~~~

However nervous you might have been about going to the love hotel paled in comparison to how it felt when you actually arrived.

You had spent hours going through your wardrobe, wondering what on earth to wear. Hizashi was quick to remind you that whatever you wore would end up on the bedroom floor anyway, which did little to quell your nerves. You wanted tonight to be special; the kind of night you revisited over and over to better enjoy each detail. In the end, you settled on a simple dress and shoes, with the fanciest lingerie you owned underneath.

Your stomach fluttered as you caught sight of your reflection while you were getting dressed, the anticipation of the night ahead almost too much to bear. After tonight everything would be different for what you prayed would be the right reasons.

You bobbed on your heels as Hizashi booked you in, glancing around at your surroundings. It didn’t look any different to any ordinary hotel, though you weren’t sure why such a thing surprised you. You had heard stories of people spending the night in one by accident, as well as people who took advantage of the cheap rate to do so on purpose.

You glanced across at Shouta to see if he was as nervous as you, only to see him examining one of the posters on the wall. From the looks of things, the hotel offered themed rooms as well as generic ones and while some of the themes were pretty run of the mill, some were far more unusual. They had a dinosaur themed room and an aquarium, as well as a superhero room designed to look like a back alley.

They also had a cat themed one, complete with fluffy pink bed sheets and equally fluffy cat themed lingerie, which seemed to have grabbed Shouta’s attention the most. You made a mental note to do some online shopping at the next opportunity.

“Let’s go!” said Hizashi at last, dangling a key labelled 215.

You took a deep breath and followed him through the building, taking note of the luxurious interiors. You’d expected it to look seedy and the reality was quite jarring.

“Who’s excited?!” Hizashi cried out as you took the lift to the second floor. “This is going to be awesome!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, but even he fell silent when you stepped inside of your room for the night.

This...this was everything you had expected and more besides. Everything you looked at was more obscene than the last.

The room was bright red, with silk sheets and a mirror on the ceiling. There was a pole and set of couches in the right hand corner, as well as bookcases full of erotica. Across from the bed was an enormous flat screen television and a cabinet underneath it that you knew without looking contained porn.

Hizashi fiddled with the switches on the wall, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the spotlights on the floor and ceiling, all three of you taking a step back when one switch made the room rumble. The ceiling mirror shifted and a set of straps lowered through the gap.

“Is that…” you whispered.

“It’s a sex swing!” cried out Hizashi, unable to contain his excitement.

You had only ever heard of them until now and mostly as a joke. Hizashi rushed across the room to test the straps, looping his wrists into the cuffs and hoisting his weight up off the floor, laughing as he began to swing as if the three of you were in a playground and not a room full of sin.

On the leftmost side of the room was a wooden divider screen, with multiple wardrobes behind it. You approached them slowly, morbidly curious about what you might find inside.

What you actually found there made you cry out in glee.

“Oh my god,” you said, rummaging through the drawers. “Oh my god!!!”

“What is it?” said Hizashi, trying to unravel himself from the swing.

“It’s...oh my god. They have costumes.”

“Oh? You gonna be a dominatrix for us?”

“No, you don't understand,” you said, stepping out from behind the divider. “They have costumes.”

Both Hizashi and Shouta’s eyes widened when they saw what you were wearing. You’d found a familiar spiked leather jacket and gloves, as well as the shades to match the set.

“Hey, hey, hey listeners,” you called out in your best Present Mic impression. “It’s a beeeeeeutiful day to boogie!”

Hizashi was delighted; he struck a pose of his own.

“Put on your dancin’ shoes and happy smiles,” he said, “tonight we’re going Plus Ultra style!”

“I knew it was a bad idea for you two to spend time together,” sighed Shouta, rummaging through the mini bar.

“Are you saying there’s not enough room for two Present Mics?” Hizashi pouted, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“I don’t think the world is big enough for one .”

Shouta pulled out three beers and unscrewed the lids, passing one to you and another to Hizashi.

“Cheers,” you said, taking a long sip before setting the bottle down on the nearest surface.

Hizashi and Shouta did the same, the reality of what you were about to do sinking in.

“Anyone want to back out?” said Hizashi.

“Nope,” you said, Shouta shaking his head along with you.

“Okay,” said Hizashi, “in that case, let’s set the mood .”

You stripped off the leather jacket and gloves, watching as Hizashi played around with the various switches in the room. He returned the sex swing to its original position and fixed the lighting, choosing a setting that left the room in a soft light that resembled candles.

Shouta pulled the pillows from the bed and set them down on the nearest couch, fluffing them up as you slipped behind the divider screen and unfastened the zipper of your dress. You slipped it off your shoulders and down to the floor, excitement rushing through you at the knowledge that neither Hizashi nor Shouta had noticed yet.

You rearranged your hair, taking a deep breath before stepping out and perching on the end of the bed, stretching like a cat and waiting for them to turn and look at you.

It was Shouta who noticed first, turning from the couch and freezing on the spot. You flashed him a knowing smile and he reached out for Hizashi, who was searching through his phone for the perfect playlist.

“...so I’ve been putting this together for the past few days. I wanted something that was mellow but had a bit of a beat and-ow!”

Shouta poked him in the ribs and pointed in your direction, prompting Hizashi to almost drop his phone.

“I seem to have lost my dress,” you said, crossing both arms over your chest in pretend modesty. “Won’t you help me?”

“O-o-o-of course,” said Hizashi, “though for what’s worth, you seem to be doing just fine without it.”

Shouta sank down into a chair at the foot of the bed, reaching for his beer as Hizashi climbed up onto the bed behind you.

“You look,” he said. “I’ll supervise.”

Hizashi’s breath was warm against the back of your neck and you shivered as he planted kisses along your exposed back.

“Maybe it’s hiding behind your ears,” he said, lifting your hair and swirling his tongue around your earlobe. “Hmmm...nope.”

“Maybe this one,” you said, tapping your finger against the opposite ear and giggling at the tickle of his lips against your ear.

“No,” he said, sounding genuinely forlorn even as he kissed the back of your neck. “Not there. Perhaps… maybe...”

He looped his fingers through your bra’s fastening and unhooked it with ease. Your bra dropped down onto your lap and you tossed it aside, watching as Shouta leaned back in his chair and sipped his beer, an expression of satisfaction across his face as Hizash looped his hands around your middle and reached up to give your breasts a squeeze.

“Not here either,” he said, tightening his grip on your nipples and grazing his teeth against your shoulder. “Where else might it be?”

He slipped his arms under yours, maneuvering them into his line of sight and turning your hands so they were palm up.

“Not here,” he said, spreading your fingers in the same way you wanted him to spread your legs, “my my, we are in a pickle.”

He set your hands back down and moved a little further up the bed, leaning over to pull at your shoulders so that you followed. He guided you up onto your knees and tossed his own shirt to one side before resting a hand over your lower stomach. He snaked his free hand over your breasts, burying his lips in your neck as his other hand dipped into your underwear.

“Is it in here, perhaps?” he purred, slipping his fingers into your folds and earning a gasp from you in response. “Hmmm…”

He slipped a single, exploratory finger into you and you nibbled your bottom lip, remembering the last time he had gone down on you. You’d been a shivering, shuddering mess afterwards and you couldn’t wait to experience it a second time.

“What do you think, Sho?” he asked, glancing across at Shouta, who had cast aside his beer in favour of reaching into his pants.

“I think you should get a better look,” he said, resting his free elbow on the arm of the chair and resting his chin in his hand.

“Roger that,” said Hizashi, taking his hand out of your underwear. “Lay back for me, princess.”

You obeyed, rolling over onto your back so that your head rested at the foot of the bed, facing out towards Shouta.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, easing your panties down your thighs and over your ankles before tossing them over to Shouta, who held them up to the light, admiring the way the soft light shone through the pattern.

You blushed, heat pooling deep inside of your core as Hizashi planted a kiss between your breasts, hair tickling over your lower stomach as he spread your legs wide to expose your cunt.

The chill of being so thoroughly exposed lasted only a second; Hizashi ran his tongue over your clit before it could truly register. You gasped, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair and catching your reflection in the mirror on the ceiling.

You knew for a fact what was happening; you knew you were there, you knew who you were with. You saw your face, your naked breasts, the lacy stockings you had yet to remove and Hizashi’s head bobbing between your thighs. Even so, you didn’t recognise yourself.

You released Hizashi’s hair and spread your arms across the bed, watching as the girl in the mirror did the same. You watched the pleasure play out across her face, the muscles in Hizashi’s back shifting as he reached to slip in a finger. You cried out and so did the girl on the ceiling, back arching from the bed.

You could see Shouta too, jerking his cock in time to Hizashi’s movements. You watched the ceiling, watched as Hizashi took note of your silence and followed your gaze.

“Ah hah,” he said, waving at your reflections. “So Sho isn’t the only one who likes to watch!”

You blushed and turned your head to look at Shouta. You were on your back, so he was upside down, but the intensity when your eyes met was no different than usual. Before you knew it, you were reaching out to him, willing him to come over. You wanted to feel his hands against your body as well, wanted to see all three of your naked bodies on the ceiling.

You didn’t speak a single word of invitation, but you didn’t have to. He got to his feet and kicked off his pants and underwear, showing off how hard he had gotten just from watching.

Hizashi sat back, wiping your juices from his lips.

“Nice of you to join us,” he said, letting you relax your legs and roll over onto your side. Shouta approached the bed and you reached for his dick, propping yourself up on your elbow to coax him closer. He climbed up onto the bed and sat down on his knees, providing the perfect angle for you to run your tongue over his hardness.

You hadn’t tasted his cock before. Technically speaking, you hadn’t tasted Hizashi’s either. You had dipped a finger into the pool of cum he left on you while he was busy running your bath, curiosity and lust overtaking you.

It was too simplistic to say it tasted good or bad. The only way you could describe it was that it tasted of him, sweet and earthy in equal measures.

Shouta’s cock tasted far more bitter, though in a way that was more intriguing than it was unpleasant. He was broad, so broad that you couldn’t take all of him into your mouth without gagging, though you were so intoxicated by him that you were more than willing to try.

Hizashi crawled off the bed and kicked off his own pants, slipping a kiss to the side of Shouta’s mouth before leaning back down onto the sheets. He shuffled his weight until he could comfortably rest his head between your thighs, lifting one of your legs up onto his shoulders before returning to his earlier ministrations.

Maybe it was the change in angle; the moans you dragged from Shouta every time you moved your head. Maybe it was the way Shouta used his position to grip onto Hizashi’s hard cock. Whatever the case, you found yourself quaking at the prospect of everything to come. You could feel your stomach churning in anticipation; the wet sound of your lips on Shouta’s skin combined with the wet feel of Hizashi’s lips against your clit sending shudders of pleasure down your spine.

The first time you came, it was like butterflies in your belly, sending shockwaves through your middle that teased at what was to come. You moaned onto Shouta’s dick, Shouta squeezed Hizashi’s and all three of you groaned at the combined sensation.

“Do you think you’re ready for me, sweetness?” said Hizashi, sitting up from between your legs to look you in the face.

You nodded, rolling over onto your back while he got up to choose a condom from the box beside the bed.

“Hey,” he said, unable to hide his glee, “they have Present Mic ones!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

He laughed as he tore open the packaging and pulled it on, still overjoyed as he got back up onto the bed and aligned his hips with yours. He gave your clit a tentative stroke and you raised your hand up to get a good grip on Shouta’s dick from this new angle, jerking it gently even as Hizashi held onto your hips and slid his tip into you. You sighed at the feeling of being stretched, Hizashi slipping himself in and out a little deeper each time.

Both of you moaned the moment you took him to the hilt, as he gave one gentle thrust.

“Oooh, she feels so good, Shouta,” he said. “I’ll get her all nice and warmed up for you!”

Shouta didn’t answer, he was watching the three of you in the ceiling mirror and Hizashi reached for his shoulder.

“Sho,” he said, “earth to Sho.”

Shouta looked down at him, only to be dragged into a searing kiss, one that came with its own soundtrack of moans and flesh hitting flesh. Hizashi thrust his hips into yours with such force that it pushed you up the bed, leaving you little choice but to grip one of Shouta’s legs.

“Okay, little listener?” said Hizashi, breaking the kiss to peer down at you.

“Not going easy on me, are you?”

“What me? Never!”

He slammed his hips into yours and crushed his lips against Shouta’s, all while you moaned and held onto Shouta for dear life. Hizashi held one of your legs in place to secure you further, tangling the other in Shouta’s hair.

You wrapped your free hand around Shouta’s cock, jerking it roughly in time to Hizashi’s thrusts. You looked up, watching the pair of them kiss both above your head and on the ceiling.

Your insides grew tighter still; a spring inside of you ready to unwind.

You weren’t naive enough to believe Hizashi would let you come there and then. Sex was an artform to him and he had had enough time to plan.

“You feel so good, cupcake,” he said, breaking free of the kiss for a second, “Sho’s really missing out.”

He slowed down his thrusts to an agonisingly slow and deep pace that left you gasping into the sheets and digging your nails into the back of Shouta’s legs.

“...listen to that,” Hizashi murmured against Shouta’s lips, forcing him to listen to the wet sound of him fucking you, “it’s driving me crazy and I’m the one balls deep.”

He stopped for a moment and Shouta reached for his jaw.

“Don’t hold out on me, now,” he said. “Don’t start something you aren’t prepared to finish.”

Hizashi grinned at the command; you realised this was exactly the outcome he had been waiting for. He fucked you so hard and fast that you squealed in a mixture of surprise and delight. Shouta adjusted his weight, crossing his legs beneath him and guiding your head into his lap.

He stroked your lips as gently as if he had kissed them, reaching for the hand that had held his dick not so long ago and planting kisses on your knuckles.

“Harder,” he said, in a commanding tone completely at odds with the tender way he held your hand.

Hizashi was only too happy to comply, lifting your knees higher to get a better angle. You gripped Shouta’s hand and arched your back, trying to link your legs behind Hizashi’s back to hold him in place, only for him to tickle your feet in punishment.

Part of you couldn’t stand the growing tension between your thighs. You wanted to let go and lose yourself completely. The other, more rational part of you wanted to relish this moment, the combination of Hizashi’s rough and increasingly sloppy thrusts and Shouta’s soft touches.

“Deeper,” said Shouta at last and you screwed up your face as Hizashi obeyed, so close to shattering to pieces around his cock and yet so tortuously far. You spluttered in sheer desperation, holding Shouta so tightly that you feared you’d break the skin.

“Oh my g-don’t stop,” you pleaded, “like that, like that, like-“

You let out a whine, holding your body still as pleasure rushed through it. You bucked your hips into his as flutters of delight rushed through your core, enough to shake your legs though not enough to take over completely.

“Oh fuck,” you said as your walls clenched around Hizashi’s cock, a taste of what was to come and enough to send him over the edge.

He gave a strangled whine as his cock twitched deep inside of you, holding himself perfectly taut to ride out the wave. You knew the exact moment he finished, for the bones left his body and he flopped forwards, a goofy smile on his face.

“You tryin’ to kill me, Sho?” he murmured, head resting on Shouta’s chest and dick still buried deep inside of you. He pulled out with a sigh and rolled backwards, climbing up off the bed without any sort of grace. He reached for his beer as he pulled off the condom, making an impressed sort of noise as he held it out in front of him. “Look how much you made me cum!”

He threw a couple of fresh condoms onto the bed and Shouta picked up the closest one: a luxury branded one in simple silver packaging. He eased your head up from his lap and shifted positions, leaving you to watch as he put it on, body so close to release that it ached.

“Come here,” he said gently, helping you up onto your knees and holding his body against your back. “Just like that…”

“I’m so close,” you whined, “so close…”

“I know,” he whispered in your ear, “you’ve been very good and patient.”

You laughed at that, knowing for a fact that you’d been anything but.

Shouta reached down to take hold of your waist, holding his hand over the flat of your stomach and kissing the back of your neck. You arched your body into his every touch and ground your ass against him, relishing every time you brushed against his hard dick.

He guided you down onto your hands and knees, slipping a finger into you a couple of times before replacing it with his dick. You moaned in relief at not only being filled again, but in a different position. Every time Shouta pushed into you, he teased the sensitive spot inside of you that would turn you into a squealing mess; a spot that had gone thoroughly neglected until Akira dumped you.

Shouta went almost torturously slow and deep, gripping onto your hips to steady you. At first you gripped onto the bed sheets, before sliding one hand down to your clit. You wanted to cum so badly, but no Shouta wouldn’t go any faster no matter how much you moaned.

You never made contact with your clit, though. Hizashi got there before you.

“Let me,” he said, sitting down next to the bed and leaning over to reach his head between your thighs. You gasped at the combined sensations: Shouta’s deep thrusts and Hizashi’s masterful tongue.

“Oh my god,” you said, so overstimulated that you feared you’d explode. “Oh my god, don’t st-ahhh!”

For a moment, it was as if time stood still. You weren’t there; none of it was real. All you knew was pleasure, rippling from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, Hizashi’s tongue hot and sticky against your clit while Shouta groaned, your walls clenching around him almost unbearably tightly.

Your body shook, still twitching as both Aizawa and Hizashi eased you down onto your back.

“You okay, listener?” said Hizashi, stroking sweaty strands of hair from your face. “Are you with us?”

You blinked, staring blankly into their faces.

“I think,” you said, voice hoarse, “I think my soul left my body for a second there.”

Something cold touched your cheek and you realised Shouta was holding out a bottle of water from the minibar.

“Maybe we went too hard on you,” he said, sounding more than a little concerned.

“No,” you said, flapping a limp arm as you leaned over to sip the water. “That’s not what I meant! It left my body in a good way!”

“Hear that, Sho,” smirked Hizashi, “your dick is killer.”

“Speaking of which,” you said, “you didn’t finish.”

“You’re right,” gasped Hizashi. “Where are our manners?”

Both he and Shouta had flopped down on either side of you, cocooning you in warmth to negate how cold you had suddenly gotten. Hizashi shimmied over to the other side of the bed, leaving Shouta in the middle, all of his earlier fatigue forgotten.

“Now then,” he said, peeling the condom off Shouta’s dick, “let’s do something about this.”

At first you watched, body still heavy. Shouta rested his hand on Hizashi’s head as he trailed his tongue over the underside of his dick, looking Shouta dead in the eye as he lapped up all of his precum and took his dick into his mouth.

It was mesmerising; so different to when you were on the receiving end. You could make out every flutter of Shouta’s eyelashes; the way his body tensed whenever Hizashi hit a particularly sensitive spot or sucked that little bit harder. He looked so vulnerable there and then and you couldn’t look away.

Shouta opened his eyes and looked towards you, crushing his lips against yours before cupping your face in his hand. He pulled you further down his body, until you joined Hizashi at his waist. Hizashi leaned back to make room for you, holding the base of Shouta’s cock and guiding your lips down onto it, earning a sigh of relief.

“Like that,” said Hizashi, holding Shouta in place as you sucked at him. “Wow, you’re really good at this, check you out!”

“Maybe one day I’ll be as good as you!”

“Haha! Maybe! Now, (Name), I want you to do something real quick.”

“Oh?”

“I want you to sit tight and then, when I give you the nod, I want you to do this.”

He leaned over and wrapped his lips around the tip of Shouta’s cock, giving it a hard suck before letting go, making a loud popping noise as he let go. Shouta’s response was instantaneous; he hissed with pleasure and bucked his hips into Hizashi’s touches.

“Think you can handle that?” said Hizashi, bright eyed.

“I think so.”

He nodded and you sat up on your elbows to watch, eyes darting from Hizashi to Shouta as Hizashi began to jerk Shouta’s dick without a hint of mercy. Shouta ground his hips into the bed, arching his back just as you had and making deep, guttural noises you would never have guessed he was capable of. You could see how close he was getting, cheeks flushed and eyes darkened with need.

He gasped when Hizashi finally let go, though the torture wasn’t over. Hizashi gave you the nod you’d been waiting for and you wrapped your lips around the tip just as he had. You sucked hard, relishing the noises Shouta made almost as much as the pressure when he planted a hand on the top of your head in an attempt to hold you in place. You let go, knowing it would drive him insane.

You really were learning from the best.

Hizashi gripped Shouta’s cock and motioned for you to take the tip between your lips. He held on tight and jerked him hard, both sensations leaving him squirming into the bed.

“J-....F-...I…” he babbled, arching his back and reaching his free hand to grip the bed frame. “H-”

Hizashi tapped your chin, motioning for you to sit back. You obeyed and he jerked Shouta’s dick with even more force, only stopping as Shouta sighed in relief and cum seeped across his body.

You and Hizashi both watched him in contentment, taking in the ripple of his muscles as he gasped for air. You crawled back up to lay beside him, giving him a soft kiss to the cheek that he leaned into.

Hizashi crawled up to Shouta’s other side and flopped over onto his back, folding his arms behind his head.

All three of you stared at your reflections on the ceiling, drinking in the sight of your naked bodies and perhaps even thinking the same thing.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

‘What now?”

Art by the lovely @earthbender/ earthbender on tumblr / ArtemisRedd on AO3~

[irondadfics]

Do you have any good fics with mainly Peter and happy? I feel like I don’t see enough of that relationship

Here you go lovelies! For more fics check out our Happy Hogan tag!

Peter & Happy-centric

A Certain Kind of Stubbornness by friendlyneighborhoodsecretary @friendlyneighborhoodsecretary

"There was something different about being a superhero's right-hand man. Happy knew it in his gut. It bred a certain kind of protective loyalty that didn't spring from anything less than looking after someone the rest of the world was out to get on a regular basis. A fierce doubtfulness about the motives of anyone who so much as looked sideways at them. A withering dislike of anyone who stood in the way of protecting them. A lack of trust in anyone but yourself." Regardless of whether you're Forehead of Security or The Guy in the Chair, it isn't easy when your best friend's a superhero.

“Told You He’s A Good Kid” (series) by friendlyneighborhoodsecretary @friendlyneighborhoodsecretary​

Happy Hogan may not exactly be the cool uncle, but he tries his best. A collection of moments in which Happy looks after the kid his boss/best friend accidentally acquired and who Happy himself would definitely not/maybe/absolutely would fight a Titan for.

Good Company by friendlyneighborhoodsecretary @friendlyneighborhoodsecretary​

There are certain things even Peter Parker doesn't talk about on those endless commutes upstate; Ben Parker is one of them.

Weekend at Happy’s by Marvelous_Writer @marvelous-writer

With May away, Peter stays at Happy’s for the weekend but things don’t go as planned when Peter suddenly gets sick.

we're going on a trip (in our favourite rocket ship) by jaybaybay @jaybaybay-01

“Mm.. S’ark?” Peter mumbled and rolled onto his side, cuffs clinking against the metal headboard as he shifted.

“Hey, Pete, you with me now?” Happy's heart was filled with relief at the sound of Peter's voice. It was heavily slurred from all the drugs, but the kid was coherent enough at last to form syllables. It was music to Happys ears. “Tony’s not here yet, but he’s on his way.”

Peters glassy eyes found Happy's face and he smiled; chunks of vomit still evident in his teeth. “ ‘e iss?”

“Yeah, cause you hit your panic button.” Peter frowned suddenly and his glazed eyes lazily trailed to his now bare wrist. Happy startled, “You… you hit your panic button, right Peter?” Peter swallowed slowly and let his eyes droop shut. Happy wished that he imagined the slight shake of his moppy brown head. “Why didn’t you hit your panic button?!” Happy hissed through his teeth.

Peter exhaled, “Wasn’ panicked.” Happy's brain short circuited.

“You weren’t- you… Peter we’ve been kidnapped.” Happy couldn’t comprehend it. This was very, very bad. This whole time Happy had been trusting that Peter had hit that stupid button on his watch and now…

Well, now they were screwed.

you'll be, kid, a man, kid, if nothing goes wrong by butmomilovemyboys

“Promise you’re real?” He choked out, his voice small. Happy nodded. “I promise. Really.” Peter nodded back, clearing his throat. He pulled away himself, wiping his eyes on his eyes on the bright orange shirt he wore. Happy put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “God, what happened? Why are we in the Netherlands?” (And he almost asks where Tony is. Sometimes his brain doesn’t catch up.) ~ SMFFH SPOILERS!!

This Can’t Be Real by Howlingdawn

FAR FROM HOME SPOILERS AHEAD. After Mysterio's final act, Happy finds and reassures Peter that they'll protect him. Truth is, though, he's just as scared as the kid.

Sacred Spaces by FerretShark @ferretshark

May doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but Happy persists. He’ll make it a great idea. Him and the kid, five days in the great outdoors. It will be fine.

“We’ll do all the camping things. What’s not to love about camping?” Happy asks.

May pauses mid-fold on a pair of her jeans, “I don’t know. He’s just not an outdoorsy kind of kid.”

regret by peter_parkerson @peter-parkerson

The kid’s annoying.

It’s a fact. The kid talks too much, too fast, and it’s annoying. That’s just how it is.

He wishes that was a good excuse for ignoring the calls. And the texts. And the incessant, unnecessarily long voicemails. He wishes he'd kept a closer eye on the kid because then maybe he wouldn't have missed his own Homecoming to fight his date's dad. He wishes his negligence hadn't indirectly caused a world of trauma for a high school sophomore.

He can't fix it now, but he can at least try to make amends.

Peter seems like a pretty forgiving kid.

Tough Love by samos7

Peter calls Happy in distress after May doesn't come back to the apartment one night. Happy doesn't know how to deal with emotions.

driving lessons by sapphirestark @sapphirestark

Happy cleared his throat. “Right then. Next, gears.” He gestured towards the console and Peter’s eyes widened.

“I’m learning stick shift?” All Peter knew about manual transmission was that it was way more difficult and much harder to get right. “Happy, I don’t know –“

“If you can’t drive stick shift, you can’t drive.”

Irondad w/a lot of Peter & Happy

I'm Not Your Babysitter by Mrs_N_Uzumaki

“I can’t take this anymore, Tony.” The end of the rope that was Happy’s already little patience has been reached. “I am an asset manager, not a babysitter.”

(A "missing scene" in Homecoming.)

I Really Need Somebody To Call My Own by losingmymindtonight @losingmymindtonight

Tony didn’t even know when he started getting jealous of Happy. It had been nice, at first, watching him and Peter get so close. Tony couldn’t be around all the time, and Happy still lived in the city, mostly to be close to May, so it was reassuring to have someone watching the kid’s back while he was watching Morgan’s. It had also helped, in a cynical sort of way, that Peter struggled with the transition. After all, he’d come back from the Snap to his aunt in an entirely new relationship. Not only that, she was in a relationship with someone the kid knew. There were bound to be growing pains, and Tony was the one Peter always went to with them, ranting through video chats at 2:00 am. It had made him feel important, like he was becoming part of the kid’s structural foundation. And then Happy had moved in with the Parkers, which had thrown everyone for a loop, and the months had blended together, and suddenly Happy was an integral part of Peter’s structural foundation, too. -- Or, Tony questions his role in Peter's life. Naturally, he spirals.

Not-Uncle Tony by Jen27ny @jen27ny

“I just… got some news.” “Bad news?” For a second, he thinks Happy is about to say yes. Instead, he turns around to him, eyes full of a nervousness Tony didn’t know the man is capable of. “I’m going to be a father.”

~~~~~

This is the story of Peter Hogan. Yes, that's right. Happy is Peter's biological father, and Tony is there for the entire ride.

Damage Control by PechoraFlow

This was bad. His phone rang, echoing around the small bathroom and causing him to flinch. He answered the phone and put it on speaker without looking at the Caller ID. He grabbed an extra roll of toilet paper, thinking that, if he had a prayer of making it home, he had to at least staunch the blood flow. “Hello?” “Hey, kid, are you still here?” This was worse.

Or, after landing the plane on Coney Island in "Spider-Man: Homecoming", Peter isn't as unscathed as he likes to think he is.

[destinys-lies]

Evermore by destiny’s lies

Disclaimer: Boku no hero academia and its characters do not belong to me, but Kōhei Horikoshi. Any images used are credited to their original owner(s). ———————————————– Prompt: Bonus Day 2: Shattered—Evanescent ———————————————– Author’s Note: Just an Izuocha drabble to help improve my writing skills. I chose to do evanescent for the prompt. This story is a continuation of this story. I did something slightly different for the synopsis, so that’s something. Also I may or may not have made references to other Izuocha fanfics I’ve read like “Distraction” by the amazingly wonderful WingSongHalo and “Green Gentlemen” by the fantastically talented SevenRenny! ^w^ Anyways, I hope you enjoy this story! It was fun participating in this event! Now I shall pass out. Have a wonderful day/night everyone!

Update: I forgot that the @ is how to tag people and I realized both writers have Tumblr sooo I’m going to do that now! @sevenrenny and @wingsonghalo

———————————————– Synopsis: “I’ll love you evermore.” ———————————————–

Izuku approached the wooden door. He silently gazed at the sign hanging beside it. The sign read, “127.” Three little digits indicated that he was at the right door. He grabbed the doorknob but didn’t turn it.

Part of him wanted to run away but the other part reminded him why he was here. It was no time to chicken out. Taking a small breath, he mustered up the courage to turn the doorknob and walk inside.

The room was painted a pale green as the dull, fluorescent lights lit up the dreary room. On the side of a wall, Izuku spotted curtains that covered the large windows. He walked over to them and pushed them aside, letting the natural sunlight in. A slight smile appeared on his face but it didn’t linger.

He turned to look at the hospital bed.

An unconscious, brown-haired woman laid on it, her body still and hooked up to tubes filled with warm blood. He pulled a chair from the corner of the room and pulled it alongside the bed before sitting down. He sighed as he placed the bouquet of pink flowers in the vase beside her.

He peered down at her angelic face, giving a soft smile. She was always beautiful, whether she was awake or asleep. His smile fell once again. He desperately wanted her to wake up. So he could tightly embrace her in his arms and twirl her around.

He groaned, burying his face into his hands.

“We need to make a risky decision here,” her words echoed around in his mind.

“Dammit, Ochako. I just got you back.” He lifted his head out of his hands and gently wrapped a hand around her fingers, raising them to lips before giving them a small peck. “And now I have to worry about losing you all over again.”

His eyes wandered to the pile of flowers sitting next to her.

They were rosemaries.

He hoped that when she woke up, they would be the first things she saw. Maybe it’d help her and make things alright. He yearned for her yet she was right next to him. All those months they spent apart and here they were together again but still divided.

Oh God, how could that trip have gone so wrong?

If he had never traveled to the North Pole, she wouldn’t have had to look for him. She wouldn't be here. They could’ve been at home, making more memories. She was here because of him.

It was his fault. He shouldn’t have left her. A whole year of potential memories escaped them and it was all because of his stupid dream to travel to the North Pole. A gentle squeeze broke him out of his thoughts. He felt a hand comfortingly squeeze his hand. His eyes peered down at his wife.

Her chocolatey, warm eyes sluggishly watched him. “You’re doing it again.”

“Huh?”

“You’re blaming yourself.”

“I mean, if I hadn’t—”

“It’s not your fault, Izuku,” she interrupted, her eyebrows furrowing. “It was my decision to come after you alone in the cold, not yours.”

“You wouldn’t have had to try to find me if I hadn’t gotten lost.”

“Maybe, but think about it, the day I found you is a new memory we have.”

“A sad one,” he remorsefully replied.

“But a memory we have together, right?”

“Yeah, it’s just I wish I never got lost.”

“I know, but remember it’s not your fault, okay? The North Pole is not an easy place to navigate. Heck! That’s one of the reasons why it took me so long to find you...” she trailed off, glancing at the pink flowers. A small smile graced her face. “Thank you.”

“Of course, I wanted to try and bring some color to this room. How are you feeling?”

“Tired…but I’m happy you’re here.” Her eyes scanned across the room before falling on a telephone hanging on the wall across from her. “Hey, remember that time you showed me the first voicemail I left on your phone?”

“Yeah” Izuku shyly blushed, suddenly feeling like he was a teenager again. “You can’t blame me for it though, it’s not my fault that you have an attractive voice. Ochako choked on air, bursting into a small coughing fit. “I guess we’re even again.” He smiled.

“For what?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

“The time you made me choke on the hot chocolate and spray it everywhere.”

“Oh really?” Amusement sparkled in those cheeky eyes of hers. “I don’t seem to remember that.” She stuck out tongue at him, making him laugh.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, unconvinced by her answer.

“I couldn’t help it!” she chuckled. “I just saw the opportunity and took it.”

He rolled his eyes and put his elbow on the side of her bed, resting his head in his hand. “Remember the time when we went to summer camp together?”

“Oh yeah! That was such a long time ago.”

“Yeah…” he affirmed. He peeked back at her, small bits of anguish flickering in his eyes. “Do you remember the time we went canoeing?”

“Izuku…” She sighed in an effort to steel herself. “You know I wouldn’t ever forget about you.”

“The doctor said-”

“Fuck the doctor!” Ochako brazenly exclaimed, her colorful language catching him off guard. “You’re too hard to forget, Izuku. And even if I did forget...I wouldn’t have stopped till I remembered.”

Tears rapidly poured from his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. The Ochako I know is too stubborn to quit.”

“Exactly!” She broadly smiled at him. “I’m so happy that we’re back together.”

“And soon we’ll both be back at home, making new memories.”

“I’ll love you evermore.”

“Until death do us part.”

Everything would be alright again.

[chim-chimchii]

Highway to Heaven (Yuta)

Genre: Fluff and Sauce! (It’s like eating something really spicy while being buried in a soft blanket)

Word Count: 1,920 

Note: I'm finally getting around to posting this. This Yuta drabble has been a WIP since summer, I believe? I want to thank Ashley for initially giving me this idea and for making the banner. Feedback is always appreciated! 

Set The Mood: Highway to Heaven by NCT127 (You can pick which version to listen to)

It was the day before spring break, and all your friends had decided to rent a van and drive to meet up with the others at a popular camping ground. Your bags were packed and stacked by the door for easy grabbing. You had just put the last bag down when your phone began to vibrate in your pocket.

"Bad news, Champ." Mark's voice sounded from the other end.

Without having him explain further, you already knew what he was going to say.

"The trip's canceled?" You tried not to sound too disappointed, but you were. The excitement was fading with each second that passed.

"Well, not technically. Everyone here had last minute things come up. Everyone, except you and Yuta."

You leaned against the wall and chewed on your bottom lip. Just hearing Mark say his name brought butterflies to your stomach.

"I only agreed to go because I wanted us all to be together. Plus, it's safer when there are more people." You clenched your phone a little tighter, silently praying that Mark would cancel his other plans to come along.

"It would just be you and Yuta until you get to the campgrounds. What could possibly happen on the drive there?" Before you could tell him of the possible outcomes that you came up with, he spoke again.

"Yuta really wants to go still, and I know you do too." You could imagine him smirking on the other line knowing that he was hinting at your crush on Yuta.

"Mark, I don't know." You were still trying to decide. The thought of you and Yuta being alone in a van for a couple of hours brought a blush to your cheeks.

"C'mon, Y/n." Mark was practically begging you to go even though he wasn't coming along.

"Okay, okay. Mark, you have to promise me that if you guys get the chance, you'll come and join us."

"I promise! You're going to have fun tomorrow!" . . . . . . You leaned against the van and watched as Mark and Yuta made small talk while loading your bags into the back. Yuta threw his head back and laughed at something Mark had said; undoubtedly, it was something weird and idiotic, but it made you chuckle too.

You were thankful for the dark sunglasses, for they hid the fact that you had been staring and admiring Yuta from where you were. As quickly as you could, you adverted your gaze when they both made their way over.

"You sure you're not forgetting anything?"  Yuta asked, he leaned his shoulder against the van and looked at you with a lopsided grin.

"I'm sure. I checked again before meeting you guys here."

Yuta nodded and stood upright.

"Good girl." He winked.

You immediately looked at Mark to see if he had heard Yuta, but, thankfully, his attention was on his phone.

"Well, Mark, I guess we'll see you next weekend."

Mark slipped his phone into his pocket. "Have a safe trip, and let me know when you both get there."

Yuta and Mark did a little handshake you didn't understand before Yuta rounded the van to enter the driver's side.

"I really wish you were coming with." You gave him a sad smile.

"Everything happens for a reason. Y/n, try to have fun." Mark wiggled his eyebrows before opening the passenger door for you. You eyed him suspiciously.

"You coming or what?" The engine roared, which made you break eye contact. Once seated and buckled in, Mark closed the door and waved.

"Have fun!"

Yuta honked twice, and the van lurched forward.

"It kind of sucks that the rest of them couldn't come." He quickly looked at you before returning his gaze to the road.

"Hopefully, they'll be able to join us later."

"Well, we'll have fun even if it's just the two of us, right?"

A blush rose to your cheeks.  

"Even if it's just the two of us." You agreed.

"That's right." He mumbled pleased with your answer.

. . . . . . . 

The music faded as Yuta turned it down. "Can I ask you a question?"

You turned your attention to him and nodded for him to go on.

"Why were you so hesitant on coming when you found out everyone else canceled?"

The question shouldn't have shocked you, but it did, and you were sure Yuta could tell that you were nervous. He was still waiting for an answer, and when you decided to be an adult about your feelings, the van began to sputter. You didn't know whether to be relieved that you wouldn't have to confess or be worried because the van was breaking down.

Yuta steered the vehicle off to the side of the road before putting it into park.

"Well, this can't be good." He opened the driver-side door and made his way to the hood. Once the hood was popped open, smoke billowed out. You followed his example and exited the vehicle.

"Should I try calling someone?" Your phone was already unlocked, and Mark's contact was showing on the screen.

Yuta nibbled on the bottom of his lip as he cautiously checked the oil and other fluids in search of the problem. "If you have service, try calling someone."

You pressed down on the small phone icon and listened to your phone as it rang and rang and went straight to voicemail.

"Of course, you wouldn't answer." You muttered under your breath as the monotone voice explained how to leave a voicemail.

It beeped, indicating for you to leave your message. "Remember when I said something could happen? Yeah, well, the van broke down. Please call me back as soon as you can."

As soon as you hung up, you threw your head back and gazed at the sky in annoyance. What good was a best friend if they never answered your phone calls?

The second person in your recents was Taeil. You expected him not to answer as the phone kept ringing, but on the fourth ring, he finally answered.

"Y/n, what's up?"

"I'm so glad you answered. Taeil, the van broke down, and we don't know what's wrong."

There was shuffling from his end. "Did you call Mark?"

You nodded as if he could see you. "Yeah, but he didn't answer."

Taeil tsked. "Sounds about right. I'll go find him, and hopefully, we can rescue you and Yuta."

"Thank you so much! I owe you big time." The tension in your shoulders began to relax.

"You're welcome. I don't know how long it will take to get there, but we'll try to hurry."

You said a quick goodbye and rounded to the front of the van to tell Yuta the excellent news. The hood had been closed, and he was now leaning against it, his arms folded over his chest. You couldn't tell if he was agitated or just thinking; you decided whichever one it was, you would cheer him up.

"Mark didn't answer, but Taeil did. He's going to find Mark, and they'll be on their way to get us." Copying his pose, you managed a smile and watched as the sun changed from a sunflower yellow to a strawberry sky.

"I'm sorry your spring break is starting so horribly." Yuta let out a disappointed puff of air. Whether he was disappointed in himself or the trip, you honestly didn't know.

"If could be stranded with someone worse, like Mark." You nudged his shoulder playfully with yours. He glanced down at you and let out a light chuckle.

"Can you help me up?" You placed your palms flat on the hood behind you to help push yourself to sit. Yuta moved quickly; his hands were gripping your hips as he lifted you.

Once you sat comfortably atop the van, you smiled. "At least the sunset is pretty, and the weather is nice."

Yuta nodded in agreement but stayed quiet. You could tell the situation was still bothering him. To distract him from the current predicament, you decided it was now or never; it was time to discuss the topic of your feelings and why you were so hesitant to come on this trip.

"Yuta."

You waited for him to look at you before continuing. 

"I'm not one for taking a whole lot of risks, and when things don't go as they were planned, I tend to be hesitant--"

He nodded and listened.

"--So when Mark told me everyone backed out, I panicked."

You adverted your eyes away from him. "I was also too nervous about being alone with you because I like you. It's easy to hide my feelings when there are other people around."

You stared down at your fidgeting fingers after confessing the feelings you held dear to your heart. The fear began to set in when Yuta didn't say anything right away. Was he thinking of ways to turn you down? You didn't have time to think of another horrible scenario because he finally spoke.

"You have feelings for me?" His voice was low and almost timid, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

You took this moment to sneak a peek at him. To your surprise, he was biting his bottom lip to hide that he was smiling like a child.

"Mark always told me that someone liked me, but I just thought it was just talking out of his ass."

The two of you shared a small laugh, and finally, your eyes connected with his. He was smiling not only with his mouth but with his eyes too; your heart did a small dance at the sight of him.

"I'm glad Mark wasn't talking about some random person. I'm glad he was talking about you." He turned his body, so he was now facing you, his arms resting on your lap as he leaned forward.

Yuta took your hands and held them carefully. "You make me nervous."

You let out a gentle laugh. Moments ago, he was smug and flirty; now, he was acting shy.

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

Yuta blinked at you, deciding whether or not he should answer. You took that moment to slip your hands from his grasp to cup his face, and without thinking about it further, you brought your lips to his. His hands snaked to the underside of your thighs and pulled you close to him.

In the seconds that your lips connected, the kiss took an intense turn. You had never experienced anything like this, and honestly, you were so happy it was Yuta you were sharing it with. His hold on your thighs was firm, you were sure there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow, and that wasn't a bad thing.

Yuta pulled back for a breath of air, his lips red and swollen from the deep kiss. No doubt, yours looked the same. He chuckled anxiously and bit down on his bottom lip. "I'm sorry if that got a little too intense." 

Your hands found their way to his cheeks again. You couldn't help but give him another kiss.

"It was the best kiss I've ever had." You admitted.

"For not being a risk-taker, that kiss was very risky." He said with a wink.

You threw your head back, thoroughly shocked at how quick Yuta could switch from being shy to being coy, which Yuta took as an invitation. He started at your collarbone and peppered kisses up to your jaw.

 "I'm so glad it's you." He mumbled with a final kiss on your lips.

[writingrailroad]

idea for a gregor the overander/tuc sequel series:

after the events of book 5, gregor’s family and the underland go their separate ways. The underland never reaches out to them, and gregor’s family tries their best to just forget the whole thing. A couple years after their return, they even move to a whole new city (the whole farm plan didn’t work out; too expensive).

boots grows up feeling like her entire family is hiding some big, dark secret. they never talk about anything that happened before they moved, taking special care to avoid boots’s baby years.

her mom wears long sleeves and jeans, even in the summertime. once, boots accidentally walked in on her dressing and found that she was covered in faded, circular scars.

sometimes, her dad wakes up screaming, only for her mom to soothe him back to sleep. her sister has nightmares too, only she wakes up in a panic attack, muttering about rats and codes and gregor. every once in a while, boots has nightmares too: drowning in a surging river as someone reaches out for her, a pit full of dancing mice who suddenly go still, the heat of fire and choking blindness of soot. she has nightmares about other things too, just like any other kid, but those are the ones that come back again and again, just a bit too vivid, and fill her with a strange feeling that lingers just a bit too long.

whenever she told her mom about these dreams, she assured boots that they were just that: dreams. but every so often, she could hear her parents argue. most of the time, they were happy, almost a little too happy. but they would have hushed arguments late at night, safely behind closed doors, and boots would listen through the vents. it was difficult to understand, and it didn’t help that they seemed afraid to even mention what they were actually talking about. sometimes they argued about boots, how not telling her about “it” was for her own good. sometimes they argued about lizzie, how they couldn’t get her anxiety treated in case she mentioned “it” (they ended up taking her to therapy after a particularly bad panic attack landed her in the hospital). but most of the time, they argued about gregor.

gregor was a good kid, and he tried to be a good brother too. he tried really, really hard. he dropped boots off from school and picked her up every day, even after she was old enough to take the bus on her own. he took her wherever she wanted to go, chaperoned all her field trips, and became a counselor for the summer camp she went to every year. he worked through high school to help pay the bills, even picked up a second job to help pay for lizzie’s college, and he always treated boots and lizzie to something nice when he got his paycheck.

and yet, despite all this, he was always so distant. he went off on his own more often than not, never told any stories about himself, and didn’t seem to want to do anything with his life but go for long runs and take care of their family. like their mom, he preferred long sleeves over short ones, but every once in a while boots would catch a glimpse of jagged scars that he refused to acknowledge exist. he had the worst nightmares of anyone, but instead of talking them out, he disappeared to who-knows-where in the middle of the night. sometimes his eyes got this glossy, distant look, and someone would have to snap him out of it before he remembered where he was or what he was doing.

every once in a while, boots tried to talk to him about it. figure out what he was hiding. but he just brushed her off. he brushed a lot of things off; gregor never got angry or upset with anyone. whenever things started to get heated, whenever he would get pushed towards his breaking point, he went on one of his long runs. to boots, it seemed he was always holding part of himself back, almost like he was afraid of what would happen if he got angry.

not that she could blame him.

there have been two times in boots’s life when gregor got angry. once was when she was about ten years old: gregor and boots had caught their landlord putting up a fumigation notice on their way home from school. apparently, there was a cockroach infestation. gregor argued that it was inhumane to just kill a bunch of bugs like that, but the landlord wouldn’t budge, getting more and more irritated by gregor’s protests until he said “what do you care, kid? they’re just a bunch of cockroaches, they don’t matter.” boots could practically feel the anger emanating off of her brother, and a dazed look crossed his face before he punched the landlord—almost. missed the guy’s jaw by centimeters, diverting his throw into the wall. it took a few minutes of controlled breathing on gregor’s part and placating the landlord on boots’s, but they were able to work out an agreement: gregor would door to door to gather and release the cockroaches by himself.

that incident had scared boots more than she wanted to admit, mostly because of an incident before that, where gregor hadn’t held back.

she was maybe eight years old. gregor had had one of his nightmares and disappeared into the night; only this time, boots had followed him. she tried to keep her distance so she wouldn’t be caught, and turned around whenever he checked behind his shoulder (later, she realized that he definitely knew she was following him; her bright purple raincoat wasn’t exactly the stealthiest choice of outerwear). as she crossed the opening to an alley, hands snatched her, pulling her into the darkness. two men held her tight, their acidic stench and gnarled, toothy grins overwhelming her senses, and she let out a brief cry before one of them clamped his hand over her mouth.

then, she saw gregor. his fearful look twisted into something much more dangerous, and he lunged.

it was over before she could blink. gregor tore the men off of her, throwing one against the wall hard enough to make his skull to crack and knocking the other one to the ground, mercilessly punching as boots wailed for him to stop. only, he didn’t stop. he was like a machine, tearing into the guy with deadly precision until boots grabbed his arm and pulled him away. and for a split second, she caught sight of a dazed grin stretched across his face before he snapped out of it, hoisted boots onto his back, and ran.

he must’ve ran for twenty minutes before he slowed down in some park, far from home. he let boots go, checked her over for any sign she’d been hurt, and when there weren’t any, he sat beneath an old tree and cried. boots sat next to him, not sure of what just happened, not sure of what to say. so, she checked him over too, making sure he wasn’t hurt either. he wasn’t, except for that distant look on his face as tears rolled down his cheeks and his bloodied and bruised knuckles. boots wiped his hands with some tissues she found in her pocket and kissed them better—she had to pry his left hand away from his chest, as it was holding tight to the little bat figure he always kept strung around his neck.

“how come you always wear that necklace?” she had asked him, mostly because she wanted to distract him from whatever was making him cry. it worked, somewhat; he seemed to come back from whatever far-off place his mind wandered to.

“i guess you don’t remember, huh?” he asked in return, still sniffling a little. she shook her head. “you gave this to me, back when you were just a baby.”

“really?”

“mhm. that’s why i wear it all the time. and it... it reminds me of a friend.”

with that, he returned to that far-off place. she tried to ask him more, but he brushed her off and took her home. with that, her first and only story from the life her family had lived before they moved was over.

later that same night, boots had a nightmare of her own. but it wasn’t about the two men—it was about gregor. a younger gregor, surrounded by absolute stillness, sword dripping with blood, bearing that same grin.

as much as she hated to admit it, and as much as she hated herself for thinking it, but ever since that day, boots couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit afraid of gregor. at least, the part of him that had smiled. the part of him that he always tried to keep hidden. the part of him that boots suspected resulted in those nightmares and scars.

something happened to their family. something big. and the fact that boots didn’t know was driving her crazy. so who could blame her, really, for wanting to get to the bottom of it?

boots was 13 years old when she lied to her brother. she said she had filled out all the forms for summer camp, but the day the bus arrived, she wasn’t allowed on. so gregor the camp counselor had to leave the unregistered boots behind with a promise that she wouldn’t go anywhere without telling mom or dad and she would always be home before dark. lizzie hadn’t come home from college this summer, something about an internship, and her parents wouldn’t be home for hours.

so, boots got to work. she found a file with her family’s old address, stashed her family’s rainy day fund into her suitcase, and bought a bus ticket for new york city.

the trip there was an exciting whirlwind and agonizingly slow all at once, and she almost got hit by a car after getting off the bus. it was still early afternoon by the time she arrived, and with her printed-out mapquest directions in hand, she made the long trek from the bus stop to their old apartment building.

the family that lived in their old unit didn’t know anything about anything. neither did the next five doors that she tried. but just as she was starting to get frustrated that she came here for nothing, she knocked on the door of an older woman by the name of mrs. cormaci.

as soon as she said their family name, mrs. cormaci recognized her as boots, gregor’s little sister, and sized her up in all of two seconds. she ushered her inside, chastised her for running away, and left a voicemail for her parents before boots could say another word. finally, she sat boots down at the kitchen table with a heaping plate of lasagna—which boots was, undoubtedly, grateful for, as she hadn’t factored lunch into the equation.

“so,” mrs. cormaci said as boots wolfed down her serving. “you wanna tell what exactly you’re doing here?”

“i can’t. it’s top secret,” boots replied with a shrug. mrs. cormaci narrowed her eyes and frowned.

“uh-huh. and i don’t suppose this secret of yours has anything to do with the underland?”

boots froze with her fork halfway up to her mouth. did mrs. cormaci know her family’s secret? and what did she mean by the underland?

for now, she decided to play along. “so what if it does?”

“well, i’d say you’re halfway out of your mind if you’re thinking of going back to that place.”

“but i have to!”

“no sweetie, you don’t,” mrs. cormaci sighed. a softer look crossed her face before she reached out and took boots’s hand. “there’s nothing but tragedy down there. and there haven’t been any messages from ripred or luxa or any of ‘em. believe you me, if anything came out of that laundry vent, you and gregor would be the first to know.”

the phone rang, but mrs. cormaci didn’t make a move to get it.

“i bet that’s your mother right now, and she’s probably having a fit knowing you’re here,” she said. “but before i answer, i want you to promise me you’re not going anywhere.”

boots shook her head. “i’m sorry. i can’t do that.”

the phone went to voicemail, and mrs. cormaci huffed.

“you and your brother, i swear. so stubborn!” she chided. the phone started ringing again. “how ‘bout this: you don’t go anywhere right now. but one day, you and gregor come back here, and he can take you to the underland himself. keep you safe.”

“okay, fine. i promise,” boots relented. but she knew full well her parents would never agree to that, not after the stunt she pulled. and even so, they were never going to tell her about this underland place, let alone allow her to go anywhere near it. but if this place had the answers to her family’s past, maybe it had some way of fixing their problems, too.

“good,” mrs. cormaci smiled as she headed for the phone. “and when you do come back, make sure gregor stops by for a visit. he must be so tall by now—hello?”

mrs. cormaci disappeared around the corner to answer the phone, and boots decided it was now or never. she silently sprinted for the front door and bolted to the stairs. the older woman had mentioned something about the laundry vent, and boots had every intention of investigating for clues. but a cursory glance around the laundry room revealed no such vents. she thought that maybe she had heard wrong, or was in the wrong laundry room—she passed a laundromat on her way here—before thinking to check behind the machines. luckily, no one was in the room with her as she frantically searched machine after machine, every little noise making her think that mrs. cormaci had found her.

then, finally, she found the vent. it took some muscle, but she managed to scoot the machine out far enough so she could stick her head in to investigate. the dust made her cough, and a lint bunny stuck to her curls, but it was quickly pulled out by a current.

that current grew stronger, and boots was sucked into the vent.

she expected to be compressed by the walls of the air shaft. she also expected to free fall straight into the ground. neither happened. instead, the vent opened into a vast, pitch black cavern, and she was carried down by the same current that pulled her in. she landed on the ground gently, not metal like she had expected, but cold, smooth stone.

“hello?” she called out into the darkness. nothing. she felt around the ground the get her bearings and found a slab of stone with a small opening, through which she could hear scuttling sounds. she pressed an arm through, feeling around for any danger, and her hand brushed a smooth, solid, but unmistakably alive surface. the creature reared back from her touch and let out a series of hisses and clicks.

and, to boots’s immense surprise, she understood what the creature was saying.

[itsgabriel-james]

Sugar, We're Goin' Down

The off-season for Gabe was the best excuse he had for partying nonstop. He had been practicing and playing football every weekend since he started his first semester, so it was nice to be able to let loose.

Letting loose in his first year of college meant parties, parties, and more parties. He figured that as long as his performance in class and the gym didn’t suffer, he had nothing to lose. After all, if his grades suffered, or if his coach deemed him unfit, he’d lose his scholarship.

Not to mention Gabe was talking to Maddie less and less since being back at school for his second semester, and going out and getting drunk was a nice distraction from how much he missed her. They texted constantly, but it wasn’t the same as hearing her voice and seeing her face. He missed her face, and everything about her for that matter.

Gabe furrowed his brows as he drove to meet up with Morgan for their Sunday lunch. He was trying to remember the last time he and Maddie talked on the phone. His hungover brain was probably wrong, it couldn’t have been that long, could it?

Well he did call her last night, but it went straight to voicemail. That happened a lot since she joined the sorority. Gabe knew it was just because of all the events she had to attend. They had to either have phones off or use it for social media, so he figured she just set hers on DND.

Gabe put his car in park and looked down at his phone, checking to see if she had called back and he missed it. He fought a frown at the absence of missed calls and then shrugged it off before getting out of the car.

He went inside, Morgan was already at their usual table, and sat down across from her. Rick and Joey had been joining them each week, but they went on a camping trip that weekend.

The thought made Gabe sad as he thought about weekends away with his dad.

“Hi, hun, you look.. like you had fun last night,” Morgan said with a light laugh, noticing his hungover appearance. He usually cleaned up nicely for their lunches, but today he had visible facial hair, his hair was a bit disheveled, and he had bags under his eyes.

Gabe half-smiled and nodded, running his hand through his hair, “I went to Surfside last night for a bonfire. I didn’t get back until like four.”

Morgan tilted her head to the side and frowned, “You could have cancelled, Gabe. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this every week, especially if you’d rather be in bed.”

Gabe shook his head, “No, no, I wanted to come. We had plans, I wasn’t going to cancel. Besides, this food is so much better than the dining hall at school, and I could go for a burger with some bacon.”

Morgan smiled at her son and nodded, “Well I’m happy to see you, even if you’re hungover. Order as many sides of fries as you want.”

He smiled back at her, “Oh trust me, I will.”

Their lunch consisted of catching up on each other’s week. Morgan always asked about school and Maddie. Usually he had an answer for both. Today he could only speak for one.

“School’s been good. Classes are as usual,” he spoke vaguely, his thoughts starting to drift back to his long distance girlfriend.

Had it really been over a week since they talked?

“And Maddie? How is she?” Morgan asked while finishing up her food.

Gabe picked at the fries on his plate, “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll have better luck getting in touch with her than I do.” He was half joking. Part of him was feeling a little bitter. That was probably the hangover talking.

Morgan’s reaction made him regret his words. He didn’t want her to think something was wrong. “I mean, she’s good. We text. I just haven’t spoken to her for real in a while. A little over a week, I think. We’ve both been so busy, and she’s in that sorority now.”

His mom was understanding. She looked as if she was going to drop the subject, but her face changed slightly, “Isn’t her birthday coming up? You mentioned that last week.”

Gabe smiled and nodded his head, “Yeah, shit, that reminds me. I need to send her a gift. I’ll probably head to the boardwalk and pick something out for her.”

“Go to Amherst,” Morgan smiled at him encouragingly. “Her birthday is Friday, right? You could fly out and surprise her. That will probably be a better gift than anything you’d find on the boardwalk.”

Gabe raised his eyebrows at the idea, “That.. actually could work. I have two classes in the morning, but after that I’m free until Monday afternoon. We can spend the whole weekend together. She can show me the campus, her room, introduce me to her annoying sorority sisters.”

Morgan gave him a small look at the last part, but didn’t speak on it. “I think it’s a great idea. I’ll even buy your plane ticket since it was my idea.”

Gabe smiled a real, genuine smile, one that had been missing for a few days, “Really? Thanks, Mom.”

Morgan smiled at how he called her mom. It didn’t happen often, but it did slip once or twice lately. “You’re welcome.”

Gabe was actually excited for the first time since he was back home. He was gonna get to see his girl again. He imagined how happy she would be to see him. The look on her face. The rough sex they’d have. The romantic sex to follow.

He was looking forward to Friday more than he ever had.

[beautifulletdownfics]

Twenty Good Reasons :: Part Four

Hello! Welcome to the ‘Someday, Someday’ sequel! I hope you’ll enjoy your time here! Before you start, make sure you check out the Harry & Nina Chronology page to catch up on a few of the drabbles and novellas that slot in the gap between ‘Someday, Someday’ and ‘Twenty Good Reasons’. As always, please don’t be strangers, posting into the void is a terrifying thing! Love K x

++

Harry

We had a bad week after New York.

I posted a photo of Nina on Instagram when we went out for dinner the night after her interview. She thought it went well and came out with a big smile on her face, so I suggested treating ourselves while we were in the city. We went to the prestigious restaurant, The View, on the forty-seventh floor of The Empire State building and there was something about the soft lighting and the glow off the window that made Nina look absolutely gorgeous. So, I took a photo of her and explained it to the world with only a red, heart emoji.

I didn’t even think about the fact her engagement ring was in plain sight.

The fancy decor around us and the decadent looking dessert in front of Nina had everyone thinking I’d proposed that evening. In actual fact we had been engaged for almost a month and the real proposal involved muddy wellies, and dark chocolate digestives and tea as the celebratory meal. But by the time we were back in the apartment we were staying, the internet was alight with the ‘announcement’ of our engagement.

And it was fine, in a sense, because we hadn’t been hiding the fact we were engaged. Our families and our friends knew, and it was news that we weren’t going to be able to keep to ourselves forever. We had hoped for it to trickle out calmly. Perhaps it was both Nina and myself proving we were in denial a bit, that we didn’t want a big, public fuss to be made. Really though, the reality was that no matter how it was revealed, news that we were getting married was going to be made a fuss of.

So we got back to the apartment, took a few deep breaths and then started getting used to the idea of people knowing. Nina turned off her phone, and I talked to a publicist about them releasing the statement we wrote the week after we were first engaged, the one we wrote in preparation for the news coming out

Then, we made a pot of tea and watched an episode of America’s Next Top Model before bed.

The following evening though, things got a little bit hairy when it came to getting into JFK for a flight back home.

It seemed that because everybody knew we were in New York, even more paps were camped outside the airport knowing at some stage one or both of us would be heading back to the UK. And it was just their luck that we were going home together. Upon later reflection, I was glad it wasn’t just Nina on her own.

I knew as soon as we were out of the car to get into the terminal building that Nina wasn't okay. Her grip on my hand was a little too tight to just be so we didn't get separated in the crowd. I could feel the tips of her nails pressing into the skin above my knuckles and her palm was completely rigid in mine.

She didn't cry until we were in the first class lounge, and even then it wasn't until I had settled her on one of the couches and gone off to get us refreshments at the bar. We spent the next twenty minutes in the closest cuddle position appropriate in a private place and Nina sobbed into my chest while we waited for our flight to board. I knew they weren't tears of regret, but ones of fear and apprehension because she was about to get a whole lot of attention for the next little while. Attention she had managed in small doses over the years, but there would be nothing like what was to come.

The next thing happened when we walked in the door at home.

Nina turned on her phone after the flight and there was a missed call and voicemail message from the job interview. She called them back straight away with shaking hands after we had a quick discussion about what the time over there would be.

She sat down on the sofa as soon as someone answered on the other end, I sat on top of the coffee table in front of her, our knees bumping together. I reached out for her free hand when she said she was fine with being put on hold as her call was directed to the correct person.

I became clear pretty quickly than Nina didn’t get the job. From the way her eyebrows drew together and her voice became her small, quiet one I knew what was being said to her was hurting. I felt an awful form of guilt, or something equally as horrific, watching the person I cherished most in the world getting kicked when she was already down. I wanted to take the phone off her instead of having to keep listening to Nina with her chin bravely up, thanking them for seeing her and considering her at all. In that moment, I didn’t dare let myself entertain the fact I might actually be to blame by being openly against the whole thing.

We didn't really talk about it until the next morning. I was keeping an eye on her but not pushing Nina to talk. I could tell the difference now—after more than four years together—between when Nina was processing, and when she was shutting down. And this time she needed to process.

When we did talk though, I could see the forced optimism behind her words—that she knew this wasn't the end of the world—but I could also see that in that moment she was still disappointed and upset. And because I didn't know what the best thing to do would be, I let her stay in that place.

It was at breakfast on our first Saturday morning home together that Nina declared bravely, “I’m okay, you know, Harry? I can tell you’ve been worried about me, but I’m okay, really.”

I carefully turned around to her, holding out the frying pan and scooping a spoonful of eggs onto her plate. She had been sitting, hand juicing oranges into little glasses for our breakfast, while I was in charge of the cooking of the hot foods. A few pieces of egg fell off the side of the plate and it was second nature for Nina to quickly scoop it up with her fingers and drop it onto the toast.

“I know you’re okay,” I said, almost sounding absentminded, but really I was distracting myself with our breakfast while my mind whirled through ways to keep everything okay, “I’m just …”

“You’re waiting for a breakdown,” She accused calmly, when I looked up at her she had a loving, gentle smile on her face.

It killed me, “Neens.”

“Really, I should be offended you have so little faith in my emotional state,” She joked, but it was an evil, self-loathing humour.

“Don’t,” I said darkly, “That’s not funny.”

She moved around the counter to put the juicer into the sink, her palm brushing around my side as she went, “Humour is a coping mechanism.”

“I know,” I replied quickly, turning around so I could keep watching her move, “Just tell me what’s going on in your head.”

Nina lent back against the sink, her legs looking longer than ever when she wore the little running shorts that had become Saturday’s uniform, “I didn’t get the job,” She shrugged, “There’s a bit of mess in my head, but I know there’ll be something else for me, some other job.”

My thoughts tripped on the mess in her head, “What’s the mess?”

Or you could write the damn symphony, I thought to myself.

“Just … You know, that I’m not good enough,” Nina gave nothing away on her face, which made it worse, “Or I’m not as good as I think I am. I’m self centred, stupid, facetious, undeserving.”

My gut instinct was to tell her to stop talking about herself like that, to stop thinking about herself like that, but I knew I needed to validate her feelings. I just hated that I knew exactly where that voice echoed from.

“That’s a load of fucking bullshit, Nina.” I began carefully, “You know you’ve worked hard, you know you have a boat load of talent.”

“I do,” She nodded, “Just hurts is all.”

It was her small sniff that got me, “C’mere.”

Nina stepped forward heavily, shoulders slumping the closer to me she got, “We’ll laugh about this later on.”

When she was pressed against my chest I pulled her against me as tightly as I could, “I could never laugh about a time when you think you’re any of those things you just told me.”

I felt Nina’s sigh all down my body, “Can we do something together today?”

With one more tight squeeze I let her go slowly, “Anything you like.”

*********

We didn’t do this nearly enough.

We packed a picnic rug into the back of the Rover and stopped off at our closest high street in Highgate. Nina picked all the food from the deli while I went into a cafe across the street to get take away coffees for us both. We met back at the car and it was then only a few minutes to get up to the furthest east side of Hampstead Heath, which somewhere along the line had become our favourite spot.

The walk wasn’t far to the big, old tree that we liked best. Nina lay out the blanket, half in the shade and half in the sun. I smiled to myself when she claimed the shaded spot and blurted out a pun to her that earned me a kick in the bum as I lowered myself down in the sunshine.

We chatted while we ate until we ended up lying side by side with empty containers littering the space around us. Nina’s head rested on my shoulder and my arm wound around her easily, her fingers looping through mine over her chest.

“What would happen if we slept out here?”

I hummed in thought at Nina’s question, grin cracking my eyes open despite the glare, “Probably not a lot. It’d get really cold and we would regret it, I imagine.”

Her voice sounded sleepy and drawn out, but happy, “I loved camping as a kid. We should try it at home, then if it sucks we can just go inside.”

“Solid plan,” I agreed.

Nina let out a long sigh then, her shoulders tensed with it and when she took the breath back it caught at the back of her throat, “I was going to say we should try it next weekend but with all the snow it’s likely we wouldn’t make it through the night.”

I ran my hand up and down her arm, “I’m not sure why you’re so nervous about going.”

“It’ll be fine,” She decided bravely, “I know that. And once we’re there it will be great to have everyone together for a bit.”

“Ah,” I caught onto the detail of what she’d said, even if Nina herself hadn’t meant to, “You’re nervous about the getting there bit.”

Nina sighed and rolled over onto her tummy beside me, “I didn’t enjoy coming back from New York last week.”

“Neither did I, Neens.”

“It’s alright,” She diverged bravely, “Plenty of time for sleeping in the garden after.”

After tour is what she meant, but we both knew it didn’t work to make plans for a time so far away. It was better to concentrate your time and energy on making things good at that time, instead of how we could fix things months later.

“We could try this week,” I humoured her, pressing my smiling lips to her temple, “But I’m not sure you’d look particularly cute frostbitten.”

“Don’t you have a hero complex?” She asked through a smile, “If I had frostbite you could save me.”

I shook my head, “Nope, I don’t find the thought of you injured at all appealing. No.”

She whacked my chest and I cracked into a grin at her laugh, “You’re the one who gets injured anyway, aren’t you?” Nina teased, “At least this time you have to be on your best behaviour before New York.”

“What?” I scoffed cheekily, “I could do an eight month tour with a broken leg. What are you implying?”

“Your leg definitely wouldn’t be in a cast for eight months, idiot.”

The time suddenly struck me; eight months.

Nina watched my face carefully as I’m sure my happy demeanour crumbled right before her eyes. I’d been home in London off the Asian leg for seven weeks and by next weekend, there would be another five months of shows ahead of me before a break and then three more.

“H,” She whispered quietly, swallowing thickly herself.

“Eight months is a long time,” I brought my lips together and pulled myself to be sitting up. Nina scrambled to do the same.

“We’re starting off happy, right?” She quoted myself back to me. “I know I stomped about a bit about Canada but it really is a lovely idea, Harry. Everyone’s so excited.”

Hiring a chateau at a Canadian sky village and having both our families away for a week’s holiday had been my idea. An attempt to somehow disguise the start of another leg of the world tour behind the thrill of all being together in a new, beautiful place. Nina and I loved the snow, and we loved Canada. I thought if maybe we were all looking forward to the holiday, we might not dread the beginning of another long period of separation.

“I feel like I’ve been on tour the whole time we’ve been together,” I admitted.

“You mean my fiancé has had a steady, reliable job that he’s passionate about? Yeah, sounds right,” Nina smiled; always the optimistic peacemaker, always diplomatic in her responses. Too much like me.

“You can be mad, you know?” I told her, not completely buying her playful bit.

She smiled again, it was soft and warmed her whole appearance from the inside out, “I don’t want to be mad, Harry. I’d much rather miss you while I have to and look forward to a time, years down the track, when you’re trying desperately to convince our kids you used to be cool.”

I felt a zap of something magnificent down my spine, something happy and safe and wonderful.

“And naturally, you’d be arguing on affirmative for that.”

“One hundred percent,” She responded. “Little Pippa and Scott, we’ll have them convinced.”

I let my body fall back against the picnic rug, covering my face with my forearm and letting out a resounding groan, “Those are not the names of our kids!”

Nina giggled and let out a squawk when I blindly reached for her waist and pulled her back down beside me again, “Those are perfectly reasonable names!”

“Pippa,” I said the name with as much distaste as I could muster, “Is a great name for a cat, not a child. Not to mention the fact that’s almost exactly how people in New Zealand say ‘pepper’.”

“What about Scott?” Nina asked through a laugh, already knowing full well my dislike for the name.

“You’re mean,” I told her, “Not at all sympathetic to my childhood trauma.”

“You were an adorable child, Harry,” Nina pulled herself up to press her lips against mine in a steadying kiss, “Kind—inside and out—right to the core.”

Scott was the name of the grade one bully at my school. At some point over the years, my mother had divulged onto Nina stories about a much younger version of myself trying desperately to ‘save’ the schoolyard  bully. It was my mum’s fault too, all those life lessons about the people who needed friendship the most were probably those being mean to you. I tried to make Scott O’Conner like me, I tried to make everyone else like him as well.

It had been a summer weekend, I remember that much. Nina and I were staying with Mum for a few days and it was gloriously warm the entire time. The very first night Nina and I had a conversation in bed, one that I’d been desperate to have but unsure how to broach; to know what Nina thought about having children. We were just coming up to our first anniversary.

I hadn’t wanted to be presumptuous and just assume that, like most other people, she would want to have kids one day. I really hoped that was the case though, I’ve always wanted children. Nina was so loving and caring, I couldn’t imagine her not being a mother one day.

The conversation beneath the duvet had taken us well into the small hours of the morning though, because with my question came a heartbreaking response. It had been a sobering moment in our relationship, and one that, looking back, I could see I’d really stepped up. It was a moment you recognise the adult version of the you that you walk around as everyday; not really thinking too much about things until all of a sudden you have to deal with the responsibility side of things.

“Harry,” The Nina lying on her back in the middle of Hampstead Heath beside me interrupted my thoughts, “What were you thinking about?”

I turned on my side to talk to her, “That first time we spoke about having kids, when we were in Cheshire at Mum’s.”

She bit her lip and I knew she understood exactly the time I was referring to, “Seems like worlds away, yeah?”

I frowned, “Do you feel differently?”

“No,” Nina shook her head, “I just meant that lots has happened since then, that’s all. That was a non-hypothetical hypothetical time, you know? Like, now we’re engaged and that would’ve been what …” She paused to think, “Three and a half years ago … I mean, now … Now it’s—

—It’s going to be me,” I finished, knowing it likely wasn’t what she was going to say, but that didn’t make it any less relevant, or true, “I’m the one you’ll have kids with.”

I trained my eyes onto Nina to watch her next move. She let out a long breath and reached her hand out for one of mine, “When we get there.” She said as some kind of mantra, “Worrying about it now won’t help.”

I leant in and kissed her lips slowly, “You’re … We’re doing everything right for now. Stay healthy. Stay on top of everything now.”

She nodded feebly.

The ‘everything’ was Nina’s depression.

Nina’s depression that I had found out that night in Cheshire haunted her in more ways than I was initially aware.

I knew everyday was a battle for her, and I had been around long enough to know it was unreasonable to expect it was one that we could win everyday. But I hadn’t realised that Nina’s depression had her looking forward to possible events in her future with unease.

Post natal depression, she had told me, was considerably more likely for her.

In a moment of true, absolute honesty she told me she was afraid of having children. She was scared that she wouldn’t be able to be the mother they would deserve, and just as importantly, the mother she wanted to be.

Right from the very beginning of knowing her, I’ve never been good at handling Nina when she was crying. I never knew what to do, never knew if it was one of those times it was appropriate to let her cry or if I needed to find away to make her stop. Her sadness made me nervous because in the back of my mind was the fear I might lose her to it.

But in Cheshire that night I could do nothing but cry with her. Because it was devastating, one of those things you don’t think about until you come face to face with someone who lives it as a reality every day.

And even though, at that stage, we hadn’t been together all that long it was utterly shattering, to hear Nina confess she wanted to be a mother but was terrified to do so. And it was shattering in a beautiful way as well, because there was already such a respect for parenthood, and a consideration for life that didn’t exist yet.

“Harry,” Nina called me back again, “You’ve got pre-tour distracted mind.”

“Sorry,” I shook my head at myself. “We should get on home, shouldn’t we? If we’re going to pack tonight.”

“Yeah,” Nina agreed easily, but I knew from the look in her eye she was worried about whatever had taken my mind away from her in that moment.

I took the back of her neck in the palm of my hand and pulled her forehead up against mine, “I love you.”

She scrunched her nose up at me, “I love you too, let’s get married.”

I shrugged, feigning mild disinterest, “Sure, why not?”

*******

The following evening Nina, my mum, Gemma, Laykn and I were on a flight from Heathrow to Vancouver. Nina’s parents were flying from Manchester and would arrive in a few hours before the rest of us. From there it was an hour drive to the Whistler ski resort. If everything went to plan we would all be together in just over twelve hours.

It was chilly in London, although I knew the weather we were going into would be even colder. I loved the feeling that dressing for winter gave, a warmth and snuggly one that had me wriggling my toes in my boots and happy to be sitting with Gemma as we waited in the British Airways First Class lounge.

“You’re going to break a bone this trip, aren’t you?” She sighed dramatically next to me, settling down again after I had dropped a scalding cup of coffee down my leg during a competition with Laykn to see who could balance a cup on their knee for the longest. My poor mother had leapt up to apologise to the staff profusely for the mess and Nina gave me a threatening glare from her spot sitting talking to her brother.

“I’d say at least a minor sprain.”

We were quiet again for a few moments when I felt her take in a charged, suggestive breath of air, “Is everything alright?” She asked quickly, “I mean … Are you and Nina good? You seem … You seem fake,” Gemma finally admitted, a hint of sadness in her tone, “But you’re both trying really hard not to be.”

I hadn’t expected anyone else to notice, but that was a silly thing for me to have thought, especially when we were about to spend the next week with our families.

I considered my words and then calmly turned around to face her, “We’re good. And Nina’s good as well … I’m just not very good at leaving. It’s the same old guilt that I don’t think either of us knows how to deal with, and … A fear that we’ll be next, you know?”

“Next?” Gemma asked curiously, our words whispered comfortably between us. My big sister had always been a safe place.

“I guess the longer you’re together the more of your friends you see breakup,” I explained, “And, I mean, Tim—from my band—and his girlfriend Alexis got together long before Nina and I did. They broke up just before I came over for Nina’s performance and … It’s rattled us.”

“Yeah but even people who are married forty years have to start somewhere, H,” She responded prudently, “You can’t measure you and Nina against other people.”

“I know,” I replied gently, “But … I guess them breaking up has shaken me. I really looked up to Tim in that sense, how he’d kept his relationship going after so many years doing what we do. I always figured if Tim could do it, so could I.”

“You still can, Harry.”

“No!” I backtracked quickly, “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I know that, and I will. I’m keeping Nina and I together, and I don’t care what I have to give up for it. But … I guess Tim and Alexis breaking up has been,” I tried to think of the right sounding word and failed, “Like, sort of humbling? In the sense that you get hit in the face with the fact the people around you aren’t invisible, and neither are you.”

“Is that why you …” Gemma shook her head and then fell silent, “Don’t worry.”

“Is that why I what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her slightly and trying to read where she might be headed.

She cast her eyes down and pulled at the rings on her finger, “Did you see the article on the Juice website about how your proposal was—

—That article was a load of horse-shit that got taken down,” I returned angrily, “Don’t think so lowly of me.”

“I don’t!” She defended, “And I love Nina, you know I do, H. But what I’m saying is that it looks—

—It doesn’t matter what it looks like, Gem,” I hissed, looking around to make sure no one else had cottoned on to our heated exchange. Only our Mum was watching us uneasily, “It only matters how it is, and as someone who knows how it is I can’t believe you’d even try to have this conversation. Or that you’d consider something written on a fucking gossip rag before what you know of your own brother.”

I stood up and went to leave her.

“Harry!”

I turned back around briefly to tell her just one more thing, “Next time keep what you read in your free time to yourself, Gemma. I proposed to Nina because I want to marry her. And you already knew that, so stop reading shit that’ll rot your brain.”

I let out a long breath of frustration, trying to shake the bubbling feeling that came from arguing with my sister. Nina didn’t see me coming, and kept talking to Laykn next to her even when I picked up her hand and started pulling her to her feet.

“Hey!” She yelped, breaking eye contact with her brother and pushing her other hand against my chest, “I was talking, Harry, don’t be rude.”

“You can keep talking,” I mumbled, switching our spots and taking the seat that she had been in, “C’mon,” I coaxed, now gently leading her to sit on my lap, “You won’t even notice I’m here.”

They settled back into their conversation and Nina relaxed in my arms as I wound them around her middle, settling my cheek against her back and looking at my Mum.

“Gemma’s got a guilty look on her face, H,” She whispered my way, concern on her features as she reached out to push my hair out of my face.

I briefly looked across to see my sister looking at her lap, not engaged in conversation with anyone.

“Yeah,” I said carefully, “Well, she deserves it right now, Mum.”

“Harry,” She scolded me lightly.

“She does, Mum,” I insisted, leaning closer to urge out the next words, “She knows better than to pay attention to anything the paper’s are saying about me. And I’d give her a lot more than a guilty look if Nina ever caught wind of it from her, I tell you what.”

Mum was frowning at me harshly, her eyes wide in disbelief, “What did she say?”

I shook my head, “I’m awarding her the courtesy of not taking it any further and moving on from what she implied, if it comes up again though …” I let out another sigh, “It won’t come up again.”

******

Over the years, I found myself developing unique and invaluable relationships with each member of Nina’s family. And my relationship with her mother was similar to that which I shared with my own, there was the playful exterior with a startling ability to get soul-crushingly honest, very quickly.

Today though, in this moment, it was merely fun that glimmered in her eyes beside me, “You should’ve assigned the rooms.”

I scratched at the back of my aching neck, Nina sleeping on my shoulder had me sitting in a funny position the whole flight over, “Yeah, someone’s going to end up concussed from the sound of it.”

Nina, Gemma and Laykn were thundering around our chalet for the week, yelling out and bickering over who would sleep where and what the best features of the place were. It was an impressive house; five bedrooms, four bathrooms, three living areas, a huge kitchen, an indoor pool and fully stocked library. Online Nina and I had gushed over the wooden finishes and beautiful furnishings and in real life I found myself even more impressed.

“This is quite the house,” Mae breathed out and when I looked down at her there was a weariness mixed with her appreciation. I didn’t know what to make of it.

For a second I wondered if this was all a bit much, but I was steadfast in the belief that this was a good idea. A family holiday was exactly what I wanted before I left again, this was the foundation I wanted for tour and these were the people I wanted to make the most of for these last few days.

Just as I was about to try and express something of that sentiment to Nina’s mother, Nina herself appeared at the top of the stairs. Her hair was handing down around her face as she leant over the banister around the platform above the main, downstairs living area.

“Harry! I got us the room with the big windows! The one we liked on the website? Laykn was up there but I won the rock off.”

Her happiness made me laugh, and I felt Mae’s hand on my back in gentle encouragement to go with her daughter, “Go team! What’s the balcony view like?”

Nina held out her hand down the stairs toward me, “Come see.”

We passed Nina’s dad in the master bedroom, and Gemma and Laykn in another arguing their way around who would have it but Nina’s hand in mine was steady and firm, pulling me where she was going without a falter in her step.

I’ll happily follow this woman the rest of my life.

“Oh,” I nodded as soon as we climbed the stairs into our room, “Yeah, this is ace, isn’t it?”

“Feel how comfy the bed is,” Nina encouraged, letting go of my hand and instead wrapping her fingers around my hips to lead me in the right direction.

I flopped down, face first, on the mattress and let out a groan when the tight muscles in my back all started to loosen up painfully, “Fuck, this is good.”

I felt the bed dip down as Nina climbed up on it as well, her knees pressed into my side and I felt her fingers at the base of my neck, massaging slowly, “Sorry I slept on you the whole flight. Will I leave you to nap until dinner?”

“No,” I moved and rolled onto my side, “If I sleep now the jet lag will be even more funky. I think just a shower and fresh clothes will be good. Then we should go into town and find somewhere to eat.”

“I thought we were going to get a big grocery delivery and have those ‘family cooking sessions’ you love so much,” Nina laughed musically above me

I scoffed playfully and waved her idea away with a lazy hand through the air between us, “Nobody cooks on the first night, silly. I want to eat a moose tonight.”

Nina held my gaze skeptically, working hard to keep her lips tight while I wriggled my eyebrows at her, “You’re not funny,” She deadpanned eventually.

“Because everything in Canada has a picture of a moose on it?” I continued with the same lame joke.

“Yes, I know,” Nina wasn’t doing well at pretending she didn’t find me endearing.

“Just getting into that Canadian spirit!” I said overly cheerfully.

“I’m sure it’s all the locals do, Harry, all day.”

Eventually Nina and I untangled ourselves from each other after I tackled her into the bed just to get her laughing. I showered and found her curled into a corner spot on the downstairs sofa, surrounded by everyone else. Laykn let out a loud cry of support when I suggested we all venture out for a meal together.

And it was that first night spent eating, drinking wine and laughing together that formed the precedent for our week together.

A week of lazy, slow mornings followed by snow walks, afternoon naps and evenings cooking meals together. Nina and I had our moments alone out in the spa or going for strolls after dinner when everyone else was comatose from eating. Our parents went on antiquing day trips to near by towns, stopping more than necessary for coffee and cake breaks. Laykn spent his days going to the nearest slopes, usually taking one of us with him; a few days he managed to get Nina, Gemma and myself to go along although we were more of a hinderance for not being particularly winter sports savvy. Other times Nina and Gemma would disappear with our mother’s to explore the local shops and I’d find myself drinking beers with Laykn and Nina’s dad at the house.

Always though, there was everyone around the dinner table together at night, talking back and forth between everyone’s lives. There was the renovations my mum was doing on her house house, or Nina’s parent’s trip they were planning to Asia, Laykn’s study, Gemma’s boyfriend, Nina’s work, and my music.  

It was a safe place to talk about it all, even the emerging record burning a hole in my mind. Because all the times it came up, or one of them would ask to hear a little bit of it, I knew the reaction was always loving, always supportive (for the right reasons) and always proud. Even if I didn’t know when or how it could work, to have the unwavering support of these people.

*******

“Harry?”

I let my eyes flick from my phone screen to Nina beside me in bed, the brightness of the screen and darkness of the room having me squinting to make out her features, “What’s up?”

“Your work phone is buzzing.”

It was then that the vibrating against the wooden bedside table registered to me, “Oh.”

I pulled myself up into a sitting position, dragging some of the duvet off Nina’s chest which had her sluggishly sitting up as well. She leaned over and turned on the lamp but I’d managed to fumble the ringing phone into my hand. I was quick to swipe to answer and extract myself out of bed to take the call, a heavy panic rising to my throat as soon as I saw what number was calling.

“Sorry,” I mouthed back at a confused looking Nina as I yanked open the balcony door and slipped out into the cold. “Hello?” I said down the phone.

“Harry, mate, I know you’re on holiday with your family right now. And I hate doing this to you—

“—What’s happened?” I demanded quickly, bracing a hand again the frozen railing and trying not to think of the last time I got a call like this.

“We think it’s happened again, mate.”

[cheekytorah]

Thank you for always submitting the most creative prompts! You always get my fluffy gears turning. 💛

This too me so long to respond to because I was trying to make something for you for christmas because you are one of my favourite followers, always liking and sharing always commenting and dropping me asks ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for always finding the time to write my prompts (even though I leave you so many lol) and promising to write the rest. It means a lot!

So Happy Holidays/Christmas/New years etc etc 💋

In my effort to finish this for you I failed to find a Beta so I’m sorry it’s a bit rough.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sirius felt himself return to consciousness. The images of warm calloused hands, bright, happy camp-fires and sweat slicked bodies were immediately replaced with a sudden need to vomit and fear that his skull was moments from cracking in half, exploding from pain.

He stood up and dashed for a bush, expelled the contents of his stomach-albeit not much-and groaned in agony. He looked around at two of his best mates, in similar hell, and smiled slightly till he had to close his eyes to block out the excruciating sun. Misery does love company, after all.

Eyes closed, the warm darkness brought on a cascade of memories from the night before. Dancing around a fire in their pants, like a trio of idiots-thanks Prongs. Drinking vermouth to begin with-thanks Wormtail. Vanishing tents because how else would they be real men-yeah that one was Sirius, of course.

Then a memory of James voice encouraging him to-no he wouldn’t.

“Prongs, did you let me drunk call people last night?”

James moaned in response.

“No,” Sirius gasped. He felt panicked as memories of yelling into his phone some weird song that involved butchering Remus’ name assaulted his mind. “Did you tell me to call Moony last night?”

“I may have mentioned the merit in a drunken confession.”

Sirius stomach dropped out.

“I would like it on record that I was completely against it,” Peter interjected.

“Oh fuck,” Sirius groaned and laid down on the grass.

Why was it always fucking him?

James crawled on hands and knees and curled in a ball beside Sirius, flinching under his murderous glare.

“I’m sorry. Maybe we should turn our phones off before a night of drinking.”

“I’m never drinking again, look where it gets me. I think- fuck Prongs-I left him a voicemail where I waxed poetic about his hands! HIS FUCKING HANDS!”

“That I don’t remember,” James chuckled, but then winced when Sirius punched his shoulder.

“He probably hasn’t even heard it yet,” Peter said thoughtfully. “He did text me earlier to say his phone was going to die and he’d forgotten his charger. Wouldn’t have one till he got home tomorrow morning.”

Sirius looked up hopefully. Maybe they could, oh but it would never work, they’d have to get to Wales and none of them could apparate in their state. They’d also have to somehow manage to steal Remus’ phone without him seeing, get it back to London-

“We can do it,” James nodded, recognizing the look on Sirius’ face. “Just let me die here for a little bit and we’ll get to the car.”

They drove through to the afternoon, arriving at the Lupin’s cottage in a few short hours. Lyall answered the door but after a disgusted sniff, scowled at the boys and told them Hope and Remus had ventured out to a cousins in London. He quickly slammed the door shut in Sirius’ face and they were once again on the road.

“I swear to Merlin, James, if this ends badly,” Sirius warned.

“Look, if anything you can claim it was a prank gone wrong. Alcohol distorting the point of the prank, and I don’t know, making it more confusing.”

“Oh sure, that will go really well,” Peter rolled his eyes.

“Or, you could just tell him it was all true and then snog his face off,” James teased.

“Remus doesn’t feel like that about me,” Sirius gripped the steering wheel and glared at the road. “You think I would keep this secret for all these years if I wasn’t damn certain the truth would ruin our friendship?”

He cursed under his breath. He had made a move on Remus’ about 10 years ago, laying on their backs at the top of the astronomy tower in sixth year. He had kissed him, and Remus had pushed him away and told him not to confuse things. It was pretty clear then that Remus didn’t want him.

“I don’t get it,” James shook his head. “You could have any bloke you wanted, I see them throwing themselves at you. When was the last time you even went on a date?”

Sirius was about to object, that he went out with plenty of men, but he wasn’t sure they’d agree that one offs in the loo of a dirty pub once every few months really counted.

“Over a year ago,” Peter supplied.

“Not all of us can be with the person they are in love with, settle down and have a bloody family by the time they are twenty-one,” Sirius snarled. “And you,” he pointed at Peter through the rear view mirror. “You are not allowed to have an opinion on my relationship status when you don’t date at all.”

“I’m aro,” Peter shrugged.

“And I’m bloody serious, so both of you lay off me.”

Sirius muttered mockeries under his breath. He turned down a dead-end street as the sun began to disappear behind the trees.

~*~

“Merlin’s saggy balls!” Sirius booted the tire of James father’s car in frustration. “How do we even find him?”

They had knocked on the door and a couple cute young college kids answered the door. Not an extension of the Lupin family, and had no idea who Remus or Hope even were.

“How did Lyall give us the wrong address? Shouldn’t he know where his own family lives?” James asked, similarly discouraged.

”Lyall Lupin doesn't even like his own son, why would he care about a cousin?” Peter said absently.

”Plan B, Padfoot,” James said slowly. “Prank gone wrong. It’s believable.”

“Honestly, you should just tell him the truth,” Peter rolled his eyes. “He won’t stop being your friend, you know him better than that.”

Sirius dug his hands in his pockets and glared at the ground. Why did this have to happen. Why did he have to drink so much. Why did he have to confess his undying love to Remus?

“Well, I’m out of options, so just remember I want my casket in red oak, not that cheap shit. I know your parents are loaded so don’t hold out on me,” Sirius grinned at James but his smile quickly faded and he groaned.

Sirius kept glancing at his phone, no new calls, or texts. Obviously Remus hadn’t heard the voicemail—yet, because he wasn’t being bombarded with questions or apologies or—what he wanted most—returned affections. He knew that was an impossibility.

James took the drivers seat again and they set off on their trip back to London. Peter was snoring in the back and James was humming along with the radio. Harry and Lily would be sleeping when he had finally dropped them off and slipped into their cottage in Godric’s Hollow, so they had stopped for some take out and pulled up outside an old skate park.

“Why do you think Remus doesn’t like you back?”

“I tried to kiss him once, back when I first realized I was gay—like super gay—he pushed me away. Told me he didn’t want me to ruin things when I was finally earning back his trust.”

“Can you blame him? After what you did-”

“Of course not, but if he had felt something for me, he would have said something back then.”

James made a noncommittal noise and went back to his curry.

“Blimey, this stuff is garbage,” he complained and Sirius smirked.

“Nothing beats your mums,” Sirius chuckled.

James nods as they drive off towards Sirius’ flat. When they pull up Peter is awake and slides into the passenger seat. They both wave and Sirius slips into the building. When he’s in the safety of his bed he lets all his doubts cloud around him, attacking him with anxiety and gloom. Was he going to wake up and lose Remus forever. Had he already lost him and just didn't know it yet

~*~

Of course his dreams were affected by his uncertainty. Words of harsh rejection yelled at him in Remus’ pitch. It was as if he was drowning in ‘let’s just be friends’,‘I can’t even look at you’ and ‘you disgust me’. He was covered in a cold sweat and he felt sick. He was overreacting, he told himself, but the fear of losing one of his most important people terrified him.

It was half-past eight when he knocked quietly on Remus’ door.

“Oh hey Moons, can I use your phone?” Sirius pushed past and stood expectantly in his living room.

“Sure, something up with yours?”

“Oh err, yeah not working right.”

Remus hums in agreement and Sirius darts over to the phone charging on the wall. ‘1 new voicemail’ flashed on the screen. Sirius sighs with relief as he punches in the voicemail code and listens.

“Moony, no doubt Sirius is on his way over there right now. We went to great lengths this weekend to attempt to prevent you listening to Sirius’ voicemail from friday night, but in case he managed to delete it, I think you should know anyways. He’s mad about you. You both are a couple of idiots who need to wake up and smell the big gay love.” Siriuis could hear James snickering as Peter spoke and then the line went dead. He cursed under his breath, vowing to kill James. But then, if this was the only new voicemail. Oh fuck.

Sirius turned off the phone, squeezed the phone in his hands, and bracing himself turned around to face Remus. Remus who was standing now, leaning against the doorway to his bedroom with a raised brow and crossed arms. Remus who had a delicious little smirk playing at the corner of his gorgeous mouth. Remus who-

“Anything interesting?”

Siius didn’t know what to say. What could he even say? So he didn’t say anything he just stood there like a wild animal cornered, assessing his escape options. Remus pushed off of the wall and strode forward a few paces and came to a halt in front of Sirius, not five feet from him.

“You know,” Remus said thoughtfully. “I got this really interesting voicemail Saturday morning.”

Sirius felt the colour drain from his face.

“But you-”

“You didn’t think my mum would let me get away with not having a phone all weekend did you?” Remus interrupted with a smile, amusement painting his every feature. Then his smile faded into a look of uncertainty. “Look, if you want, we can forget the whole thing.”

“What do you-”

“You were drunk,” Remus interrupted again. “We all say things we don’t entirely mean when we’ve had far too much to drink, and you definitely sounded like you had too much to drink.”

“Well I-”

“And you didn’t really get my hopes up or anything, it’ll be fine. Our friendship is the most important thing to me. You, James, Peter, us-the Marauders I mean-That’s what matters and I wouldn't want to screw any of that up. Nothing else matters, I don’t want to make anything awkward either, the other stuff could just fade away.”

Sirius grinned, both his brows raised and watched as Remus babbled away, offering a ‘Moony?’ every so often, hoping to cut into his spoken monologue. And people told Sirius that he was the one who liked to hear himself talk.

“Granted it hasn’t in years. I mean, it’s not like weird or anything-fuck-I just mean-”

“Moony!” Sirius said loudly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he shook his head in exasperation. “Shut up.”

He stepped forward quickly, gripped Remus shoulders and pulled him against himself. Their noses were practically touching, Remus’ eyes locked with Sirius’.

“If you don’t want me to kiss you, tell me now,” Sirius said quietly, practically a whisper in the silent room, their lips a mere inch apart. When Remus didn’t reject him Sirius closed his eyes and brushed his lips gently against Remus’ in a chaste kiss. He pulled away and looked at Remus, searching his face for a reaction and grinned when Remus beamed back at him.

One of Remus’ arms snaked around Sirius’ waist and the other cupped the back of his neck, pulling him back into a kiss that was deeper, stronger, and felt like a promise. They tasted, explored and teased for what seemed like forever, and ended too soon. Remus tasted like fresh water in the desert, smelled amazing, felt like home. They were still standing there-sirius still in his leather jacket and his shoes on-when a loud crash interrupted their ministrations.

“All your clothes better be on, Pads,” James called as he banged his way into Remus’ flat. “I swear to Merlin!”

Remus chuckled as Sirius groaned and dropped his head to Remus’ shoulder, but his shoulders shook with his own laughter too. He pulled back and looked back into Remus’ eyes who simply winked at him.

“What if it’s me who stripped and pulled a naked man, Prongsie?”

“Well that would be quite unexpected and out of character for the great Mssr. Moony, and I would have to encourage it,” Sirius could practically hear him grinning. “Carry on, I’ll just wait here, totally not listening to you both at all.”

Sirius grabbed a pillow off of Remus’ bed, darted out of Remus’ room and threw it at James who was sprawled out on the couch already flicking through the tele.

“Perv,” Sirius laughed and tackled James, giving him a couple playful punches to the gut.

Remus’ laughed and pulled out some of the pizza James had brought--apparently it was already lunch time, they really had been snogging for sometime--and settled on the floor, all lanky limbs and curly hair. Sirius watched him fondly before falling back into their usual banter and good natured teasing. This was the best part of being in love with his best friend.

[justjessame]

A Reluctant Hero Chapter 12

JD left after accepting the job that came in as soon as he turned his phone back on, but not before yanking me to him and kissing me thoroughly.  A tiny nip to my bottom lip, the dark hungry look still in his eyes, promising me he’d see me soon, he was gone.  I shook my head and swallowed down the rush of lust that he’d created with a single fucking kiss, and tried to decide if food or work would be my first course of action.  

Kelsey found me in the kitchen, having seen her dad leaving she decided to come see if I was still capable of speech, or movement, I thought as I caught her smirking.  “What?”  I asked, pulling out the ingredients for French toast.  “Hungry?”

“Looks like Dad had you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” she offered, her smirk growing into a full blown smile.  “Seriously, you have a little-” she gestured to her own neck and I felt my eyes widen.  He hadn’t.

I turned my head and tossed my hair back as I studied my neck in the reflection of the microwave glass door, and sure enough, a bite mark.  Shit.  I groaned and then glared when she laughed.  “Not funny, Kelsey.”  I pulled my hair back down, but then sighed as I looked at the ingredients in front of me.  Hair hanging meant a greater chance of eating said hair by accident, fuck.  I sighed and pulled it back and twisted it into a knot as I pulled open the junk drawer and grabbed a hair tie.  “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that he-”  I was muttering, trying to flip through ALL the times we came together and remember the feeling of him BITING me, but nothing came.  Nothing other than the flush caused by how good every time he touched me felt.  Or the images of his body, naked and glistening with sweat as it hovered over mine.  Fuck.  

“You just went red, pale, and then let out a gasp,” she offered from the stool she was studying me from.  “You want me to leave you alone to take care of whatever caused all that?”  

I shot her another look and picked up the first egg.  Cracking it with more force than necessary, I ignored her.  Eggs, cinnamon, a hint of cream, vanilla, then thick slices of bread before adding each to the lightly buttered pan.  “Grab the powdered sugar, syrup, and I think there’s some whipped cream in the fridge-”

“You didn’t use that with-”  I groaned out loud at the very idea that my best friend kept mentioning the sex she was insinuating I’d had with her own father.  “Joking, Ani, God get a grip.”

“Let’s never, ever, ever discuss YOUR dad and me-”

“Screwing like rabbits?”  She offered, which earned her another sharp look.  “Fine, but I’m your closest friend, so if not me, then who?”  

JD called a few hours after Kelsey had tortured me to her heart’s content.  He was elbows deep in a case, but he wanted to hear my voice.  After reminding me of all the ways he liked to hear my voice, he sighed and said he had to go.  My answering sigh was met with a low chuckle and he promised me that he was just as eager to see and hear me in person as soon as possible.  

I had gone back to my desk, listening to the voicemails from the calls I’d missed while we were ‘occupied’, I rolled my eyes at Roger’s insistence that he wanted to speak to me again.  Hearing my dad sound irritated that Pandi was down, and that I’d closed the loopholes for him to backdoor his way into the AI’s system.  I knew I’d have to call him back, but work called to me.  

Getting lost in the story I’d been working on, I ignored the reminder that Roger had shown up at my house AGAIN while JD and I were locked in our own bubble.  I took heart in knowing that he hadn’t been able to breach my security, but it was annoying regardless.  Pandi broke through as I fell into a world of my own creation, telling me that once again, Roger was on my doorstep.  

Asking for the intercom, I kept typing as I spoke.  “If you don’t remove your lying, cheating ass from my property, Roger, I will be forced to electrify the door, the porch, and the fucking pathway.  While seeing you flail around as current flows through your sorry ass would amuse me, I hear the paperwork for such shit is enormous and a pain in the ass to fill out, so kindly fuck off.” 

“Ani, come on, you know that you can’t throw away what we had.”  He was pleading, while trying to make it sound seductive and alluring.  I snorted.  “Do you really think that JD Richter, hero at large, is gonna be happy with you after screwing a hybrid astronaut?”  Nice, first try to remind me of how ‘good’ we had it, then insult me.  “I mean, have you SEEN Molly Woods?”  Even better, show that you’d fuck her, you more moron.

“Roger, what we had was at best temporary insanity for me, at worst it showed how fucking desperate I was for sex with something not battery powered.”  Take that, you tasteless prick.  “As for JD and his past?  I have seen Molly Woods, and he and I have talked about her.”  Again, what did he think, I just randomly hump hot men?  “He seemed pretty fucking happy after we spent almost 24 hours locked in MY house, which again, I want you to walk away from.  This is your last warning, Roger.  Leave now, never darken my fucking door again, or ZAP.”  I hadn’t stopped writing, multitasking wasn’t only something JD excelled in.  

“Fine, but don’t call me when your little rebound implodes.”  I truly snorted so hard I had to stop typing.  Shit, honestly?  “I mean it, I’m moving on-”

“With the coed?”  I offered, through giggles that the snort had turned into.  “Great, let me know where you register.  I won’t buy you a wedding gift, but fuck if I won’t laugh at the teething toys she picks out for playtime.”  With that parting shot, I told Pandi to turn off the intercom, but watched the camera to make sure he flounced off, and hoped that he’d go asshole over head again so I could keep the good times rolling.  Sadly he didn’t fall down, he shot the camera a glare and then walked calmly to his car.  I sighed and wondered if he would stay fucking gone this time.  

I answered my dad’s call as I was making breakfast the next morning.  I could hear his frustration in just the ringing of the phone, but the heaviness of it in his tone caused another eye roll.  

“Dad,” I cut him off before he could gain steam at how irresponsible it was to ignore the world, meaning him clearly, for whatever idiotic reason I could have had.  “I wanted, no I needed, time alone.”  With JD, and his naked body, and fuck, where was I?  “I don’t know what the big deal is, we used to ‘unplug’ every weekend when we went camping.”  

“Yes, but then I had you in my sight and I could keep you-”  I heard him huff an exaggerated sigh.  “Anilea, you have to understand that you’re my little girl.  No matter how old you get, no matter how independent you are, you’re still my daughter.”

“I understand that,” I sat down with my full breakfast and put him on speakerphone.  “But you have to get that I AM an adult, Dad.  Putting surveillance software on my AI, or GPS trackers on my car, or any of the other ‘protective’ measures you want to take is stifling.  Trust that you raised me to be careful, please?”

“Roger-” he started, and I groaned.  “You have to admit, Ani, he’s not the first in a long line of assholes that took advantage of you.  He lived in your house, ate food you bought and prepared, paid no bills, and I’d bet money that you even bought him things he mentioned he liked.”  So?  I like to give people gifts, and what better gifts than things I knew they wanted?  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be generous.  Kelsey is a case in point, she’s good people.”  He’d met Kelsey during one of his visits to the house and took to her immediately.  “But men?  You have a bad track record.  Think of Jason-”

“I’d rather never think of Jason, Dad.”  The fling, if you could call it that, that had made me blush when JD asked for more information about my past indiscretions.   “Besides, that didn’t go that-”

“He had my name forged on the marriage license, Ani.”  I shut my eyes at the memory of Jason Sallinger.  A lab tech that worked under my dad, but was nearer his age than mine.  Attractive, and predatory, I hadn’t known at sixteen men like him existed.  At least not in my world.  “If I hadn’t realized what was happening, I can’t even think of what would have happened.”  We’d learned, as the police investigated Jason, that I wasn’t his first attempt at the con.  And at least one of his past paramours was missing and had never been heard of after they eloped.  

“You know that I’m more careful, Dad.”  Now, I thought, I didn’t let anyone really know how deep my pockets were. How fast the wealth was that I’d earned through my own creativity, and through my inheritance from Mom.  “Roger has no idea how much I’m worth.”

Dad sighed again.  “Your house alone paints a picture, Ani.  Your two vehicles, the trips you take that aren’t promotion related.  And the books?  For fuck’s sake, sweetie, you’re on every talk show every time another one is released.  He knew enough.  It’s why he can’t let go, or at least-”

“He showed up while the system was locked down.”  Dad’s end went completely silent.  “And he showed up a few hours after it went back up.  I told him I planned on shocking him, literally, if he shows up again.”  

“Ani, let me send the man I use to-”  He took a deep breath and I could almost see him preparing to admit something he knew I’d find irritating.  “Help keep you safe.  He can check to be sure that Roger doesn’t have his own shit in place to watch you.”

I didn’t consider that Roger would do anything like that, but in a flash I realized that he might.  Maybe not before I caught him, but now?  Now he seemed desperate to keep me.  I reluctantly agreed to his offer.  Adding that I’d want this man to remove anything he found, which Dad said was the entire point, of course.

He promised to come with the man, hopefully later in the day, and I told him I’d make us an early dinner.

“Get the Scrabble board out,” he demanded, and I smiled.  “It’s been too long since I trounced you at wordplay.”

“Good luck, old man,” I challenged, and hung up grinning from the return to normalcy.

Dad was true to his word, and with Kelsey beside me, we watched the two men, the stranger holding a device of some sort in his hand go inch by inch around the exterior of my house.  Then, even though I protested that there wasn’t any way that Roger had planted anything in my house, they did a repeat performance to the interior.  I was shocked when they found a few tiny gadgets inside to add to the small group they’d uncovered outside. 

“This,” Dad told me as he held up one of them, “is MY GPS tracker from your car.”  Nodding to show my understanding, he went on.  “It’s going back on, Ani, because there were two others in the same car.”  Wait, TWO?  “One is no doubt Rogers, but the other one?  Either he’s idiotic enough to double up, or someone else put it there.”  

“I’d think it was him,” the other man offered.  “There were two of everything we found.  Close enough to make me think that he was using two simply to make sure he had a backup in case one failed.”  He shook his head at the stupidity.  “He’s not a rocket scientist, is he?”  

“He teaches poetry,” Kelsey offered, bringing Dad and his friend lemonade.  “So, no, not a rocket scientist, and he also has the most pedantic ideas about Longfellow.”  I shook my own head at her irritation with Roger’s opinions on poetry.  

The other devices were for sound, which means that he had probably heard JD and I from the first visit he made to my house and most definitely the sounds of our lovemaking.  Good, I thought, suck on that.  I invited the security man, whose name he reminded me was Kelvin to dinner, but he declined.  

“My wife made reservations for tonight.”  I smiled and walked him to the door.  “I put your dad’s tracker back on your car.  Both of them are being tracked, and I’d advise you to keep them on.  This ex of yours, he doesn’t sound all that stable, but even if he is it’s safer.”  I agreed and thanked him for his time.  “Don’t mention it.  Just stay safe.”

“I’ll try,” I started to shut the door, but he stopped me.

“JD is a good guy,” my eyes widened and he grinned at me.  “Your dad filled me in.  I know him, and he’s a good one.  If you’re with him, you’re safe.”  Then he said goodbye and I finally closed the door.  

Dad had invited Kelsey to dinner, like she needed an invite, and the three of us ate and then gathered around the Scrabble board I’d set up on the opposite end of the dining room table.  I was laughing as the two of them argued about the validity of a word when Pandi informed us that we had a guest.  Dad looked at me with shrewdness as I told it to let him in, and then as I sat at a table with my dad and Kelsey, JD walked in to meet my father for the first time. 

[whumpingwillow]

First Prompt Fill!!!

High fever? Denial? Say no more. :) Thanks for the prompt, sweet anon! So sorry it took me a million years to get around to it, but I hope you like it.

**********

Title: “Butterfingers”

Fandom: MCU/Spider-Man: Homecoming 

Word Count: 1,382

In which Peter breaks a glass and, more importantly, Tony’s heart.

**********

“Hey kid, be a lamb and pass me that teeny tiny pair of pliers over there.” Tony reached out a hand expectantly without taking his eyes off the open gauntlet he was fiddling with, hissing through his teeth as the protruding wire pinched between the fingers of his other hand let off a little spark.

“This one?”

Tony spared Peter a glance. “Yep, thanks. Keep it up and you’ll surpass Dum-E.”

Hearing its name, the robot whirred to life and knocked over a coffee cup full of bolts in its exuberance. “I’m honored,” Peter deadpanned.

“And rightly so.”

Midtown High was having a long weekend, and Tony had invited Peter to spend it upstate with him. He was unsure when or how a relationship that had initially consisted of mostly unrelenting voicemails to Happy had morphed to include superhero excursions, sleepovers at the compound, and supervised access to the workshop, but Peter had a way with people like that. Even people like Tony.

“So, anything interesting happening at that school of yours?” he asked, rolling across the floor on his stool to grab a pair of tweezers.

“Well, Mr. Harrington appointed a new team captain,” Peter began, breaking off to cough sharply into his elbow, “for academic decathlon a little while ago.” The end of the sentence came out rapidly in a forced wheeze, which then dissolved into more coughing.

“Breathe, kid.” Tony waited patiently for him to finish hacking, raising an eyebrow but refraining from further comment. “Who is it?”

As Peter began rambling about Michelle Jones, Tony took a moment to get a good look at him. All night long, Peter had been hastily swiping under his nose with his sleeve whenever he thought Tony wasn’t looking. But Tony was always looking, and he was much too perceptive not to notice the distinct rattle in the kid’s chest or the quiet little huffs Peter made when trying desperately not to cough. The kid was sick, and they both knew it. The only thing more painfully obvious than that was how much he wanted to hide it.

Hence Tony had refrained from commenting thus far. Kids get colds. No big deal. He didn’t like the sound of that cough though, and judging by Peter’s glassy eyes and increasingly listless expression, he figured he’d better make sure he wasn’t in for something a little more serious.

“... she’s pretty cool but also scares me a little—“

“Are you feeling okay?” Tony interrupted.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine, why?” Peter cringed when his voice cracked a bit, immediately undermining his statement and his confidence.

“Well, forgive me for being skeptical, but you sound like you got kicked in the windpipe.”

Peter squirmed under his scrutiny and stared down at the lab table. “Uh, maybe I did.”

“Wrong answer.”

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark. Really.”

“Hm.” Tony narrowed his eyes. “He doth protest too much, methinks.”

“Mr. Staaaark, don’t Shakespeare me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. Or not do.” The reply is without any venom. “Why don’t we call it a night and you can either sleep it off or lie to me more in the morning?”

“Okay. But I’m not lying.” Peter opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else but sneezed unconvincingly instead.

“Ew. Now why don’t I buy that?”

*****

4:37 A.M.

Tony let his eyes fixate on the digits of the clock as he waited for his rapidly beating heart to calm down, climb out of his throat, and return to its rightful place in his ribcage. He had been sleeping as well as he ever did—which was arguably not very well at all—when he was rudely awakened by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. As visions of the worst that could be happening raced through his mind, his first instinct was to reach for the sleeping form of Pepper. As she was away on a business trip, his hands came up empty. His second was to ask FRIDAY to perform a security scan. The A.I. promptly informed him that all was well other than the drenched teenager in the kitchen who had apparently dropped a glass of water on the hard tile floors.

He considered rolling back over and going to sleep, knowing his bots would handle the mess. Peter often slept even more fitfully than Tony, though, and some uncomfortable, vaguely paternal compulsion that he was still unaccustomed to being subject to willed him out of his room and into the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t expect someone who can literally stick to anything to have such butterfingers,” Tony commented casually as he reached the kitchen island, leaning with his forearms against the cool marble countertop.

Peter was using the flashlight on his phone to clean up the glass littering the floor, and the blue light cast a shadow on his face that highlighted its pallor. He shined it right in Tony’s eyes when he heard his voice. “Mr. Stark!”

“Jeez kid, don’t blind me. Friday, lights?”

“Of course, boss,” Friday responded with her characteristic Irish lilt as light slowly flooded the room. Peter dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, blinking rapidly and looking for all the world like he was going to keel over any minute.

Tony winced. “Dim them a little, Fri.”

“I-I’m sorry Mr. Stark, I didn’t mean to wake you up, I just came down to get something to drink and I dropped this glass and I’m reallyreallysorry, I jus—“ he coughed harshly to the side before sucking in a long breath in preparation for one of his signature rapid fire apologetic monologues. “I’ll clean this up, don’t worry—“

More coughing, ending with a violent sneeze into the crook of his elbow. Peter shivered pathetically in his flannel pajama pants, damp from the contents of the glass he had dumped in the floor.

“Relax, calm down. I’m not the drinking water police.” Tony made his way towards Peter, who was bending down to start picking up the glass. “Don’t grab it with your bare hands, Pete, I have bots for that.”

He carefully stepped over the shattered remnants on the floor and leaned over to grab Peter’s wrist. The warmth coming off of it and the way he swayed dangerously as Tony pulled him to his feet were equally unsettling. Before he could stop himself, some kind of primal instinct sent his palm flat against the kid’s forehead, surprising them both. Peter blinked up at him owlishly.

“I think you have a fever.”

“I don’t know. Do I?” He still had the nerve to sound surprised, but his defenses were clearly beginning to wear down as he leaned ever so slightly into the touch.

“Your current body temperature is 102.8 degrees,” Friday answered helpfully.

Tony peeled his hand off the boy’s clammy forehead and let out a low whistle. “Damn, kid. That sounds like the flu.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? Not your fault you’re sick, is it?”

“Well, I guess not, but it’s not yours either,” Peter mumbled.

Tony frowned, putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder to steer him out of the kitchen and into the living room. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean this isn’t, like... your job?”

There was a rattle in his voice again, but Tony couldn’t tell if it was emotion or just phlegm. Either way, it tugged at his admittedly susceptible heartstrings to hear the kid talk about himself like just another task on Tony’s agenda.

“What, looking after your self-sacrificing ass? Of course it’s not. It’s my pleasure.” It was the closest he could get to saying he actually cared about the kid without losing the levity of the conversation. 

He wasn’t sure if Peter was actually placated by the statement or not, but he gave a small smile in response. I’ll take it, Tony thought.

“Alright, why don’t you camp out on the couch here so I can keep an eye on you?” he asked, shifting the throw pillows around and grabbing a blanket that was tossed across the armchair.

Peter all but collapsed onto the cushions at the invitation. Tony spread the blanket over him, wondering faintly when his life had become the picture of domesticity, and went to get him a new glass of water and a dry pair of pajamas.

[szopenhauer]

Do you believe in any conspiracy theories? some

What trends do you refuse to give in to? basically all of them What types of perfume/cologne do you like on your preferred sex? none How do you get rid of anxiety? wish I knew! Are you a more of a homebody, or someone who’s always out with friends? homebody Are you materialistic? been told - in a sentimental way, not rich way Would you consider yourself open-minded? no Is there anything in your life right now that needs fixing? my body/mind Would you say that the simple things in life make you happy? they make me smile, I enjoy them Do you come up with your own words or sayings often? yes What’s the first thing you think of when I say ‘pearl necklace’?

Gummi worms: Yay or nay? nay What do you do when you have ‘me time’? why after the question before it sounds so... ekhem... What’s your opinion on Weird Al Yankovic? I liked his SW song Have you ever met someone online that you wanted to meet in real life? yup and met but only one person When was the last time you entertained yourself with shadow puppets?  not that long time ago tbh as I like to do that randomly :D

What do you think S.H.C. stands for? school lmfao

Have you ever heard of Salad Fingers? mhm *I like rusty spoons

How do you feel about oldies (50’s-70’s) music? depends on the song

Ford or Dodge?  Ford What’s your favorite element: fire, earth, wind or water? I think that most spectacular, in a movie/book, is fire, then wind, earth is most lame but I still dislike water, when it comes to real life then eart would be most interesting instead hahaha but I’m either wind or earth probably 

Do you visit craft/hobby stores often? nope

How do you feel about spiked collars?  cool

What’s keeping you from going after the person you like? I’ve been writing about it plenty of times...

Who/what brings out the best in you? depends on your definition of “best”

Have you ever watched or read A Clockwork Orange? no and don’t want/plan to

How do you feel about plastic pink flamingos? love

Do you like your ice cream super frozen or somewhat melted? in between

Fill in the blanks: I wish _____ knew _____. I wish I knew what’s wrong with me and how to fix it. I wish I knew what’s good and bad and what I should do. I wish I knew who I am and what I want/need. 

Do you enjoy playing with magnets? :3 I collect them but don’t play with magnets 

How do you handle an awkward moment? depends

The Beatles: totally amazing or horribly overrated? overrated

Have you ever felt like you belonged in a different century? not really

Pretend you just saw a shooting star. What do you wish for? health *not that it will work

Was your first phone a flip phone? nope What is an old website that closed down that you miss? polyvore forever <3 Do you listen to Grace VanderWaal? If yes, what’s your favorite song of hers? I know/like one of her songs - I don’t like you What is the grossest thing you have ever vomited up? everything about puking is disgusting so... If you had had a baby in high school, what would you have named him or her? omg...

Are you foreign-born? I was born and live in Poland Do you drink coffee with your breakfast? I don’t drink coffee at all

Did you know that dolphins & whales are mammals?  I did Are all of your grandparents still alive? no

do you need to take a smoke break? I don’t smoke honestly, do you think that you’re going to be an overprotective parent? I won’t be a parent :P what kind of relationship do you have with the last person you kissed? uh... have you ever been tutored or tutored someone yourself? been tutored would you rather wear necklaces, bracelets, rings, or earrings? hmm... is everything you have on actually yours? sure when was the last time you wore a band-aid and why? wbiłam sobie metalowy drut w palec what would you do if you discovered that you had a 7 year old kid? ... how? moon sand or play doh? Playdoh do you honestly believe that someone will waste their time reading this? I know she will pfft what’s something you need to get done soon? don’t remind me... your grandparents just died in a plane crash, what are you doing? sit confused as why would they be in a plane in the first place? :o if i came to your house, could i find any kind of chocolate? ask my mother do your parents allow smoking in your house? hell no last person you left a voicemail for? I don’t like voicemails what is the last thing you charged? cellphone have you ever held a snake? I wanna describe to me the nearest stuffed animal to you. there’s shitload of those around me do you ever wear sleep masks when you sleep or shower caps when you shower? neither zebrah print, cheetah print, cow print, polka dots, or stripes? stripes would you rather go to a beach, and amusement park, or a water park? beach or amusement park, definitely not water park

Have you ever thought about becoming a crime scene investigator? yep

If I asked around, would people say you’re an actually good friend? doubt it

Where are your siblings at right now, if you have any? most likely her apartment

Do people say you complain too much? I know I do, sorry not sorry?

Have you ever considered changing your sexual orientation? there was a moment

Do you miss any of your past best friends? kinda

Have you graduated high school yet? If so, what color were your cap and gown? we didn’t have caps and gowns

Does your significant other complain about the way you dress? does she? XD

Have you ever been in an abusive relationship? would say so

What would you do if a stranger smacked your ass and whistled? dunno

Do you understand the game of Monopoly? why not

Do you ever make fun of short people? I’m short...

Would you say you’re reliable to be a good babysitter? I don’t like kids

Do you feel replaced in any way at all right now? when my dad plays with my niece :( also when I see/hear about my ex friends and exes in general?

Do you think it’s actually possible to have a ‘beautiful nightmare?’ yes

Have you ever held an intervention for someone before? I don’t want to participate in such a thing 

Do you ever blame your problems on someone else? only if they’re at blame

As a child, were you ever made fun of? What about right now? I’ve been bullied my whole life

Are you more of an open, optomistic person or lonely and pessimistic? loner* and pessimistic but I’m also quite open about who I am, because I’m an introvert doesn’t mean I’m shy

What is the last thing you tried on in a store? not sure what was last

When did you realize you are no longer a child? this question makes me sad Is sleeping naked more comfortable then in clothes? no idea Are you comfortable enough around your friends to change in front of them? I don’t care most of the time anymore tbh Have you ever had a dream in which you were making out, or more, with someone? smth more more often than just kissing which is weird Do you prefer to fix the problems or just end the relationship? depends Have you ever accidentally stepped on a cat tail? possibly

Did you know that when a worm is cut in two both pieces grow again and continue living? been told Do veggies gross you out? why Have you ever dated someone in secret? :x Do you bring pillows and blankets on road trips? nope Does walking by yourself make you nervous? might When dog’s bark, do you think it actually sounds like ‘ruff’? no What about when cows moo? yup Do you kiss your pets? yuk Have you ever forgotten where you parked your car? I don’t drive Does your leg itch right now? not rn Would you rather marry someone repulsive or be alone forever? be alone When is the last time you saw a monkey on TV? I don’t watch TV Would you be sad if you were 50 and still not married? nope Is it dark out yet? mhm Do hugs help when you’re sad? sometimes Do you buy more things online or in stores? stores Do online dating sites ever work? not for me

Do you find kite flying boring? if for a long time Have you ever released a paper lantern? I’d like to 

Do you ever listen to Jpop? not anymore What is the best summer camp you have ever been to? been to two and both had good and bad sides  Is your bed next to a window? it’s not 

Have you ever ran a cash register? I have

Does anyone appreciate your talents? what talents? Do you ever write letters and send them through the mail? used to Have you ever had an allergy test at the doctor’s? even recently

Skeletons or scarecrows? scarecrows

Do you own pumpkin earrings? - Have you ever walked through a haunted house? no thx Have you ever asked someone to be your Valentine? and they laughed at me?...

Do you like the name Ellery? sounds like Celery so no

Do you find cemeteries pretty? yeah Does your phone screen freeze a lot? could say so

Do you tend to wear the color blue the most? as a kid Did you kiss anyone on New Years? never Who did you spend your last velentine’s day with? by myself

Is there anything plugged to your computer? two pendrives and powerbank Anyone ever got you something while you were with them without you knowing? sort of Are you more of the indie or mainstream type? indie Where is your favorite place to be massaged? I don’t receive massages When did you last speak with your grandparents? years ago Don’t you hate it when something limits the amount you can type/write? very Do you live where there are a lot of cows? nope Have you ever went an entire day without looking at yourself in the mirror? as a person who avoids mirrors... Do you like the colors purple and orange together? depends? Honestly, do you smell nice at the moment? do I ever? my partner tells me I do but I’ve been told I stink several times before

[velshie]

Kingfield angst drabble

David never thought that sitting on the bed of a dead man would ever be something he would deal with but here he was. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he went through pictures that this fucking geek took of them together and actually got them developed. Who does that nowadays anyway?

“It’s something physical to hold on to. It’s like holding an actual memory at your fingertips instead of a phone! Besides, I’ve always been better with cameras than phones anyway.” He could still freshly remember that memory of when Dwight gave David pictures of them for their one year anniversary. They were laughing, eyes bright with happiness and joy, cuddling in a blanket together during a particularly cold night during their groups annual June camping trip.

David felt his eyes water, he jammed his eyes closed. He refused to cry, it was a happy memory and he will not let his grief tarnish it. He packed up some of Dwight clothes away, trying his best not to let himself keep things that will make it harder for him to accept that he’s gone and move on. He wasn’t proud to admit that this wasn’t the first time he had tried to do this. He had tried for months, but he just...Couldn’t do it. It was easier now that his clothes no longer held his smell, but putting away his favorite shirt into the box made him want to give up then and there but he toughed it out as heart-shattering as it was. David had to remind himself that this was for him. To move on and this wasn’t a betrayal and that Dwight would have wanted this. He would want him to move on and smile again. There were a couple of things that were harder, that held some of the best memories before they were married. Like the stuffed bear that he won for him during their third date to the carnival, his husbands' camera that Dwight had saved up for months while working in that god awful pizza place and treated it like his baby. And also his photos with that camera….They were right he supposed. A picture is worth a thousand words.

And his wedding ring from when they got married two years ago.

His therapist said it would be best to keep it hidden but David loved Dwight with his heart and soul and keeping it locked in a drawer or tossed away felt like he was tossing Dwight away and he just...Couldn’t do it. So he kept it on a necklace close to his heart where his husband will always be.

He felt a tear run down his face as he aggressively wiped it away, but soon another tear, and another, then suddenly the whole flood gates were open and he couldn’t keep tears at bay and he sat on their shared bed and bawled like a two-year-old who lost his mum.

Except he lost his soulmate and he was never coming back.

And God did he miss him more than anything.

It was his fault. He lost his husband because he asked him to detour from work to get him some beer from the shop and his husband being the sweet soul that he was had gone ahead and went out of his way to grab some. He didn’t calculate that he would walk in during a robbery and startle the thief with the gun. Now he’s a widower after finally marrying the love of life two years ago.

Fuck. Dwight of all people?

His mum had told him that ‘God always took the good ones.’ As she grieved with him, holding him in her arms like she did when he was only a child. It didn’t make him feel better, in fact, it made him feel worse. Bitter if anything because what kind of god would take such a loving man when David needed him most?

David was knocked out of his thoughts when he heard a knock on the door. David had to debate for a minute, not ready yet to talk to anyone at the moment. Not ready to hear any more fucking condolences or to see their pity which they could shove up their-

He shook his head of the nasty, angry thoughts. He was able to control his anger with Dwight anchoring him down and a therapist. He would not disappoint his memory by ruining all that progress because he’s not there. He got up and gave himself a second to prepare before he walked downstairs and answered the door. He was expecting a lot of things, but he was not expecting Frank and his band of misfits to be there and looking almost as broken as he did.

“Can...Can we come in?” Susie’s voice cracked, looking like she was ready to burst into tears any second and David couldn’t help but usher them in. When they first met “The Legion.” As they called themselves, it was a bit of a rocky start as they tried to intimidate the couple as they moved in wanting them to know they were on their territory. Didn’t go so well when David backhanded Frank so hard he swore the kid saw stars when he made a derogatory remark towards Dwight. Instead of telling them to fuck right off like David wanted too, he swore that Dwight had lost his goddamn mind when he invited them in for food and to keep warm.

Since then, Susie absolutely adored Dwight and those two got on like a house on fire. She even started to call him dad after 6 months of knowing them and David would even catch her in the house with Dwight as she showed him her own photos that she had taken. Julie and Frank seemed to get along better with David, in awe of his strength and strange similarity to them personality wise but still loved Dwight for his advice and soothing personality. They all took it hard but David was confident to say that Frank was probably the one who took it the hardest even though he had never admitted it, but he never had too, you could see it in his posture, usually Frank stood so tall but now he was slouched. Mischievous, sparkling brown eyes were almost as dull as David's own green ones. David couldn’t but think that Frank deserved to be here, they all did, but Frank most of all. Dwight and David hadn’t adopted Frank. Frank had come to adopt them as his unofficial parents and had only asked days before Dwight's death to ask to officially adopt him. David gave a small but sad smile when he saw Frank looking at a picture of Dwight. David wasn’t sure when Dwight was happier. During the wedding day or when Frank asked to be their son.

It was silent but David felt better now that the teens were here. Someone else felt his pain and wanted to be close and David couldn’t deny that. He took a breath, He knows they wouldn’t take this well but he thinks they had the right as well.

“I’m going through his things right now. I wanted you guys to go through it before I threw some of them away.” All eyes were on him but surprisingly, Julie was the one who was the most vocal.

“Are...You fucking kidding? You’re throwing his things out!?” She got up and squared up to him, her body language aggressive and her eyes held so much anger, sadness, and betrayal. “This was your husband and you're going to throw away his things like they’re nothing? What you think he was trash too!?”

That hurt. That hurt really deep but David just let her pour out her feelings. Pour out all the anger and grief and whatever is plaguing her that came from the death of his husband.

“He wouldn’t have….He...He wouldn’t do that to you.” Her breath hitches turned to sobs and then just stood there and cried. Tough, nail hard Julie was crying. She just walked into his arms and cried on his chest. He felt his heart clench and his mouth wobble as he himself tried to hold it in. He placed his hand on the back of her head for comfort only making her cry harder and louder. Susie was covering her face with her hands as she sat on the couch and the two boys put their hood up to hide their faces.

They were all broken and Dwight left a hole in everyone’s heart that wasn’t ever going to go.

—-

It took a while for everyone to calm down but everyone felt that drain. The bone-deep tiredness that came from a good cry. They stayed and planned to stay the night as they ordered pizza. David looked like he was going to cry when he saw the logo of ‘PizzaWhat’ in big, bold, red letters.

“Not sure if ya guys knew…” He started, feeling everyone’s eyes on him but his eyes were still settled on the pizza box. “Dwight used ta manage the PizzaWhat up until ‘e met me. Said it was the worst job ‘e ever worked but I always said the one ‘e was currently workin’ it was probably ‘is worst.” They all just looked at the box. Not very hungry already but knowing that it was connected to Dwight in some way made everything worse.

“Damnit David, don’t ruin my favorite pizza place.” Joey joked, but it was as weak as they all felt but they still were able to crack a smile. As small as it was, it was definitely still a victory.

David just snorted before he replied. “Yeah, this place treated ‘im like gold compared to this place that ‘e works-Worked. He worked at.” They all winced as David corrected himself. He heard a sniffle coming from the couch but he couldn’t tell if it was Susie or Julie. He couldn’t really care though, he’ll let them cry for as long as they need.

“You should ‘ave heard the voicemail ‘his piece o’ shit boss left. ‘M still debating on whether or no’ I should punch ‘is fuckin’ lights out.” They all looked at him intensely, intrigued about what he was talking about but didn’t say anything. “Dwight never complained about ‘is work, but I knew they were workin’ ‘im like a dog. I didn’ know the extent of ‘ow much they abused ‘im though.” He shouldn’t be telling them this. They were already very protective of their little cut and paste misfit family that they made and they were petty when you messed with any of them. But now with one gone and all of them grieving, David knew this could send them in a direction he doesn’t want them to go down. So why was he running his mouth?

“Do you still have the voicemail?” Joey asked, which made David look up. His voice was calming and pleasant but the look in his eye promised something much more sinister. David nodded, he was angry at the way Dwight was treated and he knew these kids would burn the whole fucking world down if they messed with the family. David knew Dwight would be so angry and mortified that he was going to show them but he wanted to share his anger.

“You gotta promise me though,” They wouldn’t keep it. He knows he wouldn’t if he heard this but at least he could say he tried. Makes him feel a bit better, even though he knew it’s selfish and such a bad idea. “You gotta promise me ya ain’ gonna get in trouble. Ya ain’t gonna do anythin’.” They all promised but it was half-hearted. Susie did a poor job of hiding her crossed fingers behind her back but in all honesty, David kinda hoped they would do something. Maybe take that fat cat piece of shit and-

He let out a breath as he cut those thoughts off. He didn’t want anything happening to these kids. He didn’t want them to have blood on their hands.

God Dwight, we all need you now more than ever.

He got up and went to the answering machine. Dwight was a little old fashioned and always believed they should have a house phone for work and a cell phone for friends and family. David hesitates over the replay button, getting second thoughts about doing it.

“Let us hear the messages David,” Frank started, his voice holding no emotion. “Please.” Ah, his voice cracked there. How could he say no to a rare please from Frank?

So he played it.

“Dwight, you’re late! It better be because you’re grabbing my coffee because I swear to god if it isn’t I’ll fire you on the spot. Get here and make it fast.” It ended and a fresh wave of uncontrollable anger coursed through him. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time and he was itching for a brawl.

When he looked up, the cold rage that settled on all their faces made him feel better. He gave a feral, bitter smile.

“You think that was bad? Just ya wait.” He said as he played the second message.

“It’s been a whole day, where the fuck were you? With some extra time in the office, I would have forgiven you for being late but this is unacceptable! I knew you were always useless but I thought at least you're on time. What a fucking joke you are. Don’t bother coming in tomorrow, I’ll make sure you're blacklisted from any firm that you want to assist in. Good luck with getting a job in the future, especially with no reference. Happy job hunting.” It was almost worse hearing it a second time. He was surprised when Frank was next to him, looking him dead in the eye as his anger festered. Was this what he looked when he was angry? When he wanted a fight?

“I think we might have to break that promise,” Frank looked at the voicemail machine and David was sure that poor piece of tech was going to explode. “Because this doesn’t go unpunished.”

David knew he should feel some kind of chill but he didn’t. He felt nothing but a small bloom of satisfaction that he knew he would come to regret later. David connected their foreheads together and looked Frank in the eye.

“Do what you need to do and don’t get caught.” There was a twisted smile that made a home on Frank's face.

“Don’t worry. We won’t.” He moved and they all moved towards the door like we’re one entity. Susie grabbed their masks from her bag and handed it to all of them.

“Will get revenge for him, dad. To all those that wronged him, we’ll get him.” They all put their masks on moved through the door before Frank stopped and turned, the mask sending a chill down David’s spine.

“And the man who murdered him. Will give you that privilege to reap what he sowed.” David knew he should be afraid. This wasn’t what Dwight would want, this was exactly what he was trying to get the group away from and David was here encouraging them. God, Dwight would be so disappointed.

“You leave that one to me. We’ll find ‘im and make ‘im suffer.” Frank nodded, before walking up and giving him a quick but strong hug.

“He messed with the wrong family.” David nodded and smirked. He was angry and no fucking therapist was going to help him this time.

“We’ll track ‘im down and make sure ‘e wishes that ‘e was never born. I promise you’ll ‘ear ‘im scream.” Frank laughed and it was the most emotion he has heard from him since the news. David could help but feel a rush as they shared the same thoughts.

“Of course dad, welcome to the Legion.”

[juliettegellcr]

honey, there is no right way // @petermurrayy

It wasn’t always like this. There was a time where everyone in West Ham was happy, at least decently so. They worried about exams and relationships, nothing like this. Here, wherever they were, it’s different. Things had changed that fateful night of the field trip. It was a treat from the school board to the juniors and seniors of West Ham High, an overnight camping trip near the coast. It turned out to be less of a treat, and more of a nightmare. Juliette can recall the irritation she felt upon being woken up by the bus driver, claiming that the road was blocked, and how it grew once they were dropped off with no parents in sight, including her own. Everyone had chalked it up to their parents being asleep or busy, but once their texts and calls went unsent the panic set in. It lasted for ten minutes before the jocks and the popular students, like Harry Bingham, began hooping and hollering about how it was a chance to party. In the moment, there were only two options - walk home and sit at your house in hopes of a text or phone call from your parents, or to join in on the festivities. Juliette chose the latter, and the worried thoughts disappeared. For that moment, at least.

A week passed with no word from their parents or anyone at all, no messages finished sending and calls went to voicemail. Another week passed, and then another. Soon, it had been a month since they had returned from their cancelled field trip, and there was still no sign of their parents or life outside of West Ham. Cassandra had been the one to step up in the midst of the chaos that had taken over their town, her words were soothing and her voice calm. Back home, she was always the voice of reason, the one that everyone would look to for guidance; she was Juliette’s best friend. And she was gone. Shot outside of their makeshift prom. Gone. Wrapped up in a white bed sheet, and six feet in the ground. Gone. Juliette sat on the ceramic tile of her shower, heels of her palms pressing into her eyes with her lips pinched together in an attempt to stay silent, pain bubbling up within her chest. The image of Cassandra’s body in that sheet, laid upon a table in the church was burned into her mind. A sob fell from her lips, the lukewarm water cascading over her running over her hair and skin, droplets slipping into her open mouth, as another sob came and then another. The once scalding water was cooling on her skin, soothing the welts that developed on various parts of her body. It was painful, but punishments were supposed to be that way. She should have stayed behind to help Cassandra, not left her alone like she did, but she left for home and now her best friend would never get to see her own again. Gone. Minutes had passed, and the water was now chilling, every drop on her skin being replaced with another goose bump. Juliette pushed herself up onto shaky legs and turned the shower handle, the water cutting off, and she stepped out. Flannel pajama shorts, a mixture of reds and grays, a gift from her parents on her sixteenth birthday, and a gray sweater with the word, ‘Juilliard,’ printed across the chest in bold, navy lettering, hem sweeping down to rest at mid thigh. No one was here, they never were at night, and it was the only time Juliette could find peace if only for a few minutes.

Juliette walked out of the bathroom and into the hallway, footsteps light as her feet moved across the wood. Gaze averted to the floor before her, an attempt to keep herself from looking at the frames that adorned the walls surrounding her. Photos of her family from over the years; birthdays, holidays, and graduations. Memories that would only serve as a painful reminder of the fact that her parents, Mike, and Holly were gone. The only remaining signs that they had ever existed besides the pictures and her own memories were their rooms, and they were no longer theirs. They belonged to Emma from history class, Jacob who used to work as a cashier at the grocery store in town, and others that she was unfamiliar with. They occupied the beds that once held her little brother and sister. Juliette pushed her bedroom door open and jerked backwards, heart fluttering in her chest at the sight that greets her; Peter Murray laid in his makeshift bed on the floor, book in his hands, surprise written across his features. “I-I.. I didn’t think you’d be here tonight, or right now at least,” Juliette murmured, arms coming up to cross over her chest, knees knocking together as she stood there, gaze locked on him. Everyone knew everyone in West Ham, and Peter Murray was not exempt from that. Every teenager who was stuck in this world, this place, grew up together. At one point, though they were young at the time, they were all friends and played together. Juliette can remember the first time she truly noticed Peter. It was the summer before their junior year, and she, Cassandra, Allie, and Sam had made an impromptu visit to the river, plans to lay about on the shore and soak up what little sun they could before the usual clouds took over the sky once again. She can’t remember who Peter showed up with, or even when they did. All she can remember is the way he looked. Chubby cheeks thinned out, skin stretched over his high cheek bones, dark, coarse hairs blossomed along his jaw, his chin, and above his full, red lips. He had grown taller too. His laugh was still the same. Juliette had looked at him in awe back then, the distant crush she held returning quickly the longer she stared at him, and when her eyes strayed to Cassandra, she noticed how the blonde was looking at him with the same eyes. After that day, it was no longer Cassandra or Peter, but Cassandra and Peter. 

“Um, did you not have guard duties tonight?” She asked in a soft voice, and she moved further into the room, stepping over the items that were scattered over the floor, before falling down to sit on the edge of her bed. Her arms uncrossed and her hands dropped to her lap, fingers clenching around the hem of her sweater. Juliette had planned to go about her usual routine, as she always did when she had the house to herself. Fix food, shower, and then lay in bed until she could will her body to shut down. On hard nights, where she found herself missing her family or Cassandra, she’d lay there with headphones over her ears, and cry until her throat grew raw and sore. Eyes rimmed red and itchy from the tears that fell. Tonight was one of those nights, but she wasn’t alone. Juliette looked to Peter, head tilted to the side as she studied him. “If.. If you want to sit up on the bed with me, you can. Your little mat probably isn’t the most comfortable thing to lay on.. I know that Allie said she was going to try and find you something that could fit in my room,” Juliette offered quietly, fingers trembling where they sat in her lap. “I, um, I have a few.. dvds if you want to watch a movie or something. There just in the bottom drawer of my desk if you’d like to pick one,” Her eyes glanced down to the book in his hands then back up, “Unless you’d rather read. It’s.. Sorry,” Juliette let out a breathless laugh, fingers trembling where they sat in her lap, “I just.. need a distraction. Today was really.. long,” And that was the truth. Juliette was lucky enough to be given the task of searching through the library for any books that could help; books about farming, medical journals, anything. Harry had stopped by during her shift, bitching and complaining more so than usual, his annoyance only growing and directed towards her as she shot him down. His idea of a distraction was different than her own. “Um, how was your day? It must be.. difficult being part of the guard. It seems tough,”

[gxccistyless]

Kiwi || Part Four

Hello my lovelies, sorry for the delay, i’m in the final weeks of my first trimester back at uni for the year and so assessments and exams have left me little time for writing. I’m so happy to be back writing, i hope you enjoy this one too. Please don’t be too mad, it’s a bit of a bore this one.. THE NEXT ONE WILL BE GOOD I PROMISE. ALL. THE. DRAMA. 

And here, if you haven’t already you can read PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE||

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since that day at Anne’s and apart from him confirming your pregnancy you hadn’t heard from him. Total radio silence. Your patience was wearing thin, not that you had great patience to begin with but pregnancy hormones had managed to deplete what little patience you had left, and now Harry keeping his distance when he said he’d be in touch was pushing you over the edge. 

Gemma could sense the lack of patience in you, and so to keep you from driving yourself crazy three days ago she took it upon herself to pack a bag full of clothes and move into your very small apartment with you and camp on your couch. You would have offered her half of your bed, but with the bump growing by the day and the big ass maternity pillow that was a requirement in order for you to get any form of sleep, the couch would have to suffice. It was fun having Gemma around, she took it upon herself to enrol you both in some pregnancy classes, today had been pregnancy pilates. She insisted on joining you, donning her best lycra clothes. She looked odd with her slim frame standing in a room full of heavily pregnant woman, but her confidence didn’t fail her. To be honest, you loved having her around.. She was quite the good distraction. When the two of you finish up, you walk home making a quick pit stop to the bakery down the road on your way to grab a pretzel. The bakery down the road had a great range of pretzels handmade by a sweet little old German lady. You had tried the whole menu at least twice over during the last three weeks, but today you gave all the weird and wonderful flavourings a miss choosing to go with the plain salted one you’d grown to crave. 

His name was trending on twitter when you had woken up. Although you wanted to know so badly why, you instead put down your phone adamant to not ruin the day that Gemma and Anne had planned. You were sitting in Gemma’s car as the two of you headed to Holmes Chapel. You sighed and put your phone back into the side console before placing your palm over your face. “Your brother is trending...”ˆ ˆYou turn to look at Gemma trying to read any change in her facial expression but she just keeps her eyes on the road. “Is he? I didn’t know... What’s he done this time?” She was either sparing your feelings or truly hadn’t opened twitter this morning, you couldn’t tell. But today you were thankful... Thankful that you couldn’t read her face, and truth be told, so was she.

Harry had been in contact with Anne when he arrived back in the UK, you’d known this only because Anne had cried for two hours straight afterward. She had been so upset with him when he confirmed the pregnancy without even telling you that she had rang and rang him getting voicemail after voicemail until he finally answered. He hadn’t of even bothered to ask how his mother was, he was a little bit drunk and still very angry, Anne had thought that time in the US would help him to cool off, but it had only seemed to make him angrier. He slurred his words and cussed at her more than he had in his entire life and then proceeded to hang up on her .. “What is he doing to himself”  She cried hysterically whilst Robin had hugged her. Truth be told later that night you had wondered the same. You could understand him being angry at you, you had kept this from him, you had neglected to tell him, but Anne.. well that you couldn’t understand. She had been the only consistent woman in his life, how could he dismiss her and destroy her so easily? If this was the way that he was treating his own mother, how easy would it be for him to do the same to you. This scared you... Suddenly you didn’t want to see him anymore, the thought of him being drunk and coming anywhere near you whilst so angry scared you. Right in that moment any thoughts you had of trying to make contact with him before he was ready to dissipated. You had more at stake now than just your own feelings, you needed less stress, to look after yourself and your unborn child. 

You and Gemma both stayed fairly quiet the rest of the trip, when you pulled into the driveway Robin had already been outside. He was quick to help you out of the car, giving you a hug. When you entered the house Anne was in the kitchen. She looked a lot better than she had the last time you had seen her. Today she was smiling, not that fake comfort smile that people do when eveything is going to shit but they really want you to think things are going to be okay... No today she was genuinely smiling from ear to ear. The house smelt of fresh scones and vanilla mixed with Sunday Roast, Gemma was here, you were here and she had the chance to cook for you all... Anne was in her Element. You’d seen her this way many times before when you and Harry were together and would travel here for the weekend. She loved to cook, she loved to bake, but with Gemma and Harry gone it was no fun doing it just for Robin and herself. You remember how happy she had been the first time you met her on your very first trip here, you remember sitting on the back porch with her watching Harry and Robin mow the lawn... you remember her telling you that everyone coming home made her so happy. Today for a moment you briefly saw that same smile, and that made you happy. You know that somewhere hidden behind that smile there too was a little pain, she loves her son, she misses her son, she needs her son home.

Just under an hour later, after you help Gemma set the table, you all sit down for lunch. Robin comments on how much bump has grow and Anne swats at him whilst you laugh, promising that you took no offence to the comment. You’ve recently felt the baby start to move more and more, and so you’re well aware that bump is getting bigger as baby is too. “I swear it kicks sometimes and i feel like my skin is going to tear open” Gemma cringes at the thought. Anne smiles, nodding her head in agreement. “Yes it can be a bit like that when i was pregnant with Har-” She hadn’t realised what she was about to say and so she stops herself from finishing the sentence. You reach out your hand nodding at her... “Finish your sentence, please Anne... I love hearing your stories.. it’s okay for you to talk about him, it’s fine, honestly.” She looks straight at you, you can tell she’s chocked up now. “Well i... uh... when i was pregnant with Harry, he used to kick non-stop.. Could have sworn he was going to come out the womb a blackbelt...” You all let out a little laugh and everything goes silent.  “I hate what he’s doing to you”  She was chocked up before but until now you hadn’t realised she was actually crying. She drops her head into her hands and lets out a few sobs before Robin reaches his arm around her shoulder rubbing her back with his fingers... “This isn’t your fault Anne, it’s no ones fault. Everything has happened, we can’t change it, this baby is coming, and well as for Harry, he has a choice to make and no matter what choice it is, we all have to support his decision, even if that means he chooses to walk away” 

You had tried really hard to not think about him walking away, because the thought alone made you sick. The thought of him choosing to not be a part of this baby’s life even after you had tried to keep it from him made you feel sick. You had realised how stupid and foolish you had been in the beginning, keeping Harry from his baby was a dumb thing to do. When you first made the decision you had no intention of anyone in Harrys family finding out, let alone Harry. But when Gemma and Anne found out you had somewhat hoped that somewhere down the line he would find out and he would be hands on. So this whole situation was not how you had planned things to go at all, at least not in your head. With his heart still undecided, and this baby’s due date fast approaching you had tried to focus more on the baby rather than Harry, but being here with his family you’re now brought into the stark reality that in a few months time you could potentially be raising a child on your own. 

You hadn’t realised, but now you were crying too.”You know, no matter what he chooses love, we’re still here for you and the baby...” This made you cry harder. If Harry chooses to move on with his life, minus the baby, how could you possibly bring the baby around to his family? You loved them... You really and truly loved them. But you know deep down that if he chooses to walk away, you can’t stand in the way of him and his family. “What if he chooses to stay away forever... I can’t come between all of you” Gemma hadn’t thought of this till now, she hadn’t thought about the prospect of not being a part of her niece or nephews life because she truly didn’t want things to be any other way. She speaks now sternly and adamantly “I will not let HIM decide for ME if i get to see this baby, I’ll support his decision, but he’ll have to understand that we’re adults too and just like him we have a right to make a decision too.” You’re speechless. You had known how you felt for her was more as a sister than as a friend, but you never realised that she’d jeopardise her relationship with her brother for your baby. “Harry is being an idiot right now, and one day he’ll see it... I don’t know how long it will take but believe me he will, i know him...  But i’ll be dammed if i’m going to let him ruin this for everyone else just because his feelings are hurt and his ego is too big”  Robin gets up to grab the box of tissues. “Now lets stop crying and feeling sorry for ourselves and enjoy this fabulous roast” And that’s exactly what you all did, you enjoyed the rest of your day with not one more mention of Harry

On Sunday morning with a relaxing weekend in Holmes Chapel over, Gemma drove the two of you back to London, dropping you back to your apartment before leaving to run a few errands. You ran yourself a bath using some essential oils that Gemma had made you promise to try, the bath was quite relaxing and frankly you were ready for bed. But just as you had changed into your comfiest of clothes and were about to tuck yourself in there was a knock at your front door. You rolled your eyes anticipating that Gemma had forgotten the spare key you had given her. As you walked toward the door and start to swing it open you begin to playfully tell her off “I thought i already told you that you need-” It’s not Gemma when you open the door. It’s someone you hadn’t expected at all. He’s half stooped over, and he reeks of a deadly mixture of scotch and vodka, the whites of his green eyes are red and his cheeks are damp, you’re sure he’s been crying, but you’re also sure he’s drunk. “Oh Harry, what are you doing to yourself?”

To Be Continued.... 

[onceuponamirror]

heart rise above

///// CHAPTER 1

summary: It wasn't an experiment with freedom borne of some Americana fantasy; rather, a road trip of purely logistical intentions. The plan was simple. Drive from Boston to Chicago for his sister's college graduation. That's it.

Or, he drives a Ford Pickup Named Desire.

Mechanic!AU

fandom: riverdale

ship: betty x jughead

words: 4.5k

chapters: 1/?

[read on ao3]

I took my love, I took it down I climbed a mountain and I turned around

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He will later regret saying anything. And he will want to blame Archie, desperately. Will want to throw him out of his moving car—if the car was capable of moving at all.

But really, he will blame himself. He was the one who wanted to stop. He was the one who listened to Archie in the first place.

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It starts innocuously enough; he and Archie are in his living room, frantically pressing away at their video game controllers, his large floor fan blowing cool air straight onto their flushed faces. It’s still May, but the heat came early to Boston this year, and with a vengeance.

However, Jughead is too broke to touch his A/C—or, too uncomfortable with the fact that he is no longer too broke to justify the frugality that makes his life more difficult than it has to be—so he convinces himself the fan is satisfactory.

(He will also later blame the fan. And the heat. It made him delirious. Susceptible to terrible ideas.)

Archie cries out as Jughead’s character delivers a last, fateful blow. The screen turns to victory credits and the redhead throws down his controller. “Damn,” he mutters, as Jughead flashes him a smug grin and cracks his neck.

“I win. You’re buying the pizza,” Jughead grins, stretching his arms out.

“Yeah, yeah,” Archie mumbles, getting out his phone. While Archie places their delivery order, Jughead untangles himself from his fortress of pillows on the ground to check his own phone. JB has called and left a voicemail requesting that he bring an extra, empty suitcase because she may or may not have accumulated more clothes than she realized and whoops!

He sighs, and goes to his hall closet, where he pulls a duffle bag from the pile of things JB has already left in her wake. He’s not leaving for a few weeks, but he knows he’ll forget if he doesn’t put it right in front of himself. He throws it onto his bed to be dealt with later, and as he’s quietly closing the door behind him, he looks up and realizes Archie is watching him.

“What are you doing?” He asks, big eyebrows wrinkling. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Oh,” Jughead says distractedly, pulling his beanie from his head and using it to fan himself. Why does he always wear this stupid wool hat? It’s 90 degrees out with what feels like 99.99% humidity and he’s starting to suspect he’s got a problem with masochism. “Remember that JB is graduating this year? I’m driving out to Chicago for the ceremony and to help her move back to Boston.”

“Wow,” Archie says. “Is she really graduating college already? Damn bro, we’re getting old.”

“I’ve been old my whole life,” Jughead sighs wearily, hopping over the back of his couch to rejoin Archie, who is still on the floor in front of him. His friend grins up at him, and then, with a gasp, scuffles away to face Jughead head on.

“Dude, I’ve got a great idea,” he says, and that’s the moment that Jughead will later curse as he bangs his head against his steering wheel. “Why don’t I come? We’ll do the road trip we always talked about. We’ll camp, or stay in weird towns, go to all the stupid kitschy stuff you love to hate—it’ll be hella fun. My mom has been bugging me about visiting her in Chicago anyway, and I’ll just fly back when you meet up with JB. Come on. It’ll be so fun.”

Jughead wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, watching the big floor fan chug along. “I don’t know,” he says slowly. “I was just planning on driving there and back.”

Archie raises an eyebrow. “What’s the point of two best friends both having freelance jobs if we don’t take spontaneous road trips?”

He throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know, why do we pay rent anywhere either? Why do we bother working on this mortal plane? Why don’t I astral project my manuscripts? Why don’t we work from the fucking moon?”

Archie looks exasperated. “Dude, what else are you gonna do for the next month? I know you’re in a writer’s block.”

Jughead responds with an annoyed glare; he is a bit stuck on his latest novel, but he’s not about to admit it out loud. Somewhere in his inbox, an email from his editor is sitting and waiting, almost accusatorially, to be opened, and he’s doing his damn best not to think about it.

He settles for a shrug. “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

“Look, what’s that book you were obsessed with in high school? On the Road Again, or something?”

“Just On the Road,” Jughead corrects with a sigh. “And I’ve long shed my preoccupations with that kind of faux, ritualistic idea of American masculinity.”

Archie gives him the look he usually gets when said something beyond his vocabulary. “Whatever. My point is—you need it. I need it. I could write a few road songs. I bet it would help shake you out of your rut.”

He may have a point. Jughead stares at the fan again. He probably will need to get out of this swamp masquerading as an apartment if he’s going to get anywhere on his sequel, anyway, and he and Archie have been making vague plans for a road trip since childhood…

“Once again, not confirming I am in any said rut,” Jughead says in a bored voice, “but it doesn’t sound completely terrible. I guess.”

Famous last words, he’ll realize.

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They made plans to leave that weekend, deciding neither of them (read: Jughead) could come up with any reason not to start sooner than later. Archie had happily announced he would take care of the schedule, and although Jughead thought he maybe sounded too happy to be in charge of the itinerary, he also couldn’t muster up the energy to protest.

The trip starts innocently, and even with the potential for fun. They load up Jughead’s ancient mint green Ford truck with snacks and strap down their bags (and JB’s extra duffle) and first head to the cape for a couple of days at their friend Reggie’s beach house.

Reggie is more Archie’s friend than Jughead’s, but he still greets them both with open, drunken arms. “Bros!” He hollers, grabbing both of them in a crushing hug. He’s wearing a tank top that says Y’ALL READY FOR THIS? and Jughead thinks plainly that he’s not, but returns the hug all the same. “Welcome, welcome, to Casa de Partay.”

“Is that the formal Spanish translation?” Jughead mutters under his breath, but it goes unnoticed.

“Glad you two bachelors are here,” Reggie says cheerfully, “because Moose and Midge have been all coupley and it’s been fucking boring. Let’s shotgun a beer and head down to the water.”

Archie happily complies, although he shoots a worried look at Jughead beforehand. Jughead shakes his head and reaches for a Heineken of his own. He always appreciates the concern, but at 26, he’s long been around enough casual drinking that it no longer makes him feel small and alone in a trailer park every time he sees someone with a beer.

After they polish off their drinks, Reggie leads them down to the sand, where Moose and Midge are waiting for them. Despite also being people that know Archie better than they know Jughead, they’re still friendly towards him.

But they’ve always reminded him of Archie’s popular friends in high school, so it almost makes him more uncomfortable than if they’d been outright rude. He tries to tell himself that he is a damn adult now and the cliquey social judgments that plagued his adolescence are behind him.

They all want to head into the water, while Jughead volunteers to watch the stuff. Archie shoots him a look, but Jughead repeatedly insists he wants to read and will join them later. He settles onto a beach chair, sheds down to his undershirt (and spares Archie a lecture on calling it a wife-beater) and pulls his battered copy of Howl out of his back pocket.

He’d meant what he’d said about Kerouac, but as far as Beat writers go, Allen Ginsberg had always spoken to him. He leafs through it, and tries to focus on the poems, but his mind is elsewhere and after a few moments on the same paragraph, he accepts he’s not going to get anywhere.

He presses it against his chest and sighs, watching Archie and his friends frolic amongst the waves.

Truthfully, he doesn’t want to swim. He’s not a beach guy. The water’s always a little too cold. Sand just gets everywhere and stays everywhere for days. The idea of swimming out so far you can’t touch the ground terrifies him, and not just on a metaphorical level. And he’s definitely never gotten the point of getting thrashed around by 5ft waves for fun.

But seeing the four of them leap and duck under the water, Jughead feels annoyingly like a teenager again, watching awkwardly from the sidelines. You’re an adult. You don’t care. He rubs his temples and closes his eyes, tugging on his hat until it covers his whole face.

About half an hour later, he snaps to attention when something hits him gently across the chest. He pulls the hat above his eyes and sees Reggie standing over him and toweling off his hair.

“Sup, Infinite Jester,” he says, and Jughead has to admit that joke is a little more than clever. “You’re getting a little red. Lube up.”

Jughead realizes the object that had been dropped into his lap is a bottle of sunscreen. “Thanks, Reggie,” Jughead says slowly, still waiting to see if this is a trap; if the bottle is filled with actual lube or something worse. But with a concealed sniff, Jughead determines it to actually be benign and starts spreading it over his forearms and neck.

“No prob,” Reggie says easily, joining him on the neighboring beach chair. “I’m nothing if not a damn perfect host. You having a good time?”

He gives his book a little shake. “Just catching up on some reading.”

Reggie fixes him with a studying look. “Speaking of, I liked your book, man,” he says finally.

This surprises Jughead immensely. Despite having known Reggie for years as one of Archie’s college friends, he realizes he doesn’t know much about him other than that he works in finance and was already rich anyway. “You read my book?”

If he didn’t know any better, he might say Reggie looks somewhat self-conscious. “Yeah. I’m not all bros and beer 24/7, Juggalo. It was good. I mean, fucking sad. But good. Archie says you’re working on the sequel?”

Trying to, he thinks bitterly. Would be, if he had any idea where to start. “Yeah,” he says instead.

“Nice. Well, when I read the first one I was like, mad depressed for a week after. So give the guy a happy ending this time,” Reggie says, closing his eyes and settling back into his chair. He twists his arms up to the sun, as if beckoning it towards him.

Jughead pulls his hat back over his eyes.

A happy ending. What a concept.

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The next few days follow in a similar pattern: Reggie, Archie, and a fluctuating company of beautiful people having a rumpus, drunken time, while Jughead ruminates on the poor life decisions that led to him sitting alone by a bonfire and assuring himself that he’s beyond such hedonistic pursuits.

If this wasn’t such a common occurrence—following after Archie’s plans and finding himself wishing he hadn’t when it always ends with him at the edge of a party, alone—he might actually be annoyed with his friend.

But he wonders if he’s lying to himself when he says that it doesn’t bother him. He and Archie don’t have as much in common as adults as they did as children, and Jughead sometimes speculates whether nostalgia alone is enough to keep their friendship going.

Not that they don’t still have things in common—they both like to write (if albeit in totally different forms), they both like video games…Jughead wracks his brain for an embarrassingly long moment before also deciding they have similar senses of humor.

Sort of. Archie likes his sense of humor, anyway, which is usually the thing that wards most people off.

But none of their differences mean shit, at the end of the day. Archie is like a brother to him, and so if that means he has to be a fringe element at the edge of a beach party for a night, so be it.

Besides, he’s always teetered at the edge of things his whole life. Teetered on the edge of childhood abandonment, on the edge of foster care, on the edge of his family’s addiction, on the edge of his peers, his schools, his life.

Looking in from the outside is an easy place to be; that’s what got him his New York Times starred review, anyway.

So quite literally, no good will come of questioning his comfort zone, and that’s that.

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But once they hit the four-day mark, Jughead is itching to get back on the road, so they both pile back into the truck after long and surprisingly emotional bro hugs from a completely stoned Reggie.

The truck squeals a bit as he turns the ignition. “Did you hear that?” He asks Archie, though the engine is purring fine now.

Clearly also still a little stoned from Reggie’s wake-and-bake breakfast, Archie looks over at him, red eyed. “Hear what?”

“When you drove the car into town last night, did it make a weird noise?” Jughead presses.

“Nah,” Archie says, his head falling against the seat. He closes his eyes. “Man, I’m beat.”

“Good road trip, then,” Jughead says wryly. “Ready to go home to Boston?”

That gets Archie’s attention; he opens one bleary eye at him. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he says firmly. “I’ve got a lot more planned for us.”

Jughead snorts. He hadn’t expected it to be that easy anyway. “Where to next?” Jughead asks, as they pull out of Reggie’s driveway and into the morning light.

“Not telling,” Archie says, pulling up his phone map. “Take a left here.”

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It turns out that Archie has led them back across the state to something called the Basketball Hall of Fame, which Jughead couldn’t find more boring if he’d tried. Archie loves it, and spends the whole time wondering aloud if he’d chosen the wrong sport in high school. But Jughead can’t stand it much longer, and wanders off to find a place to read until Archie’s ready to go.

“Got you an ice cream cone, buddy,” Archie says soothingly, finding the bench Jughead has long since camped out on.

“Great, because I’m twelve,” he mutters, though he eats it anyway.

“Sorry, I know this place isn’t your cup of tea, but the next thing is for you. You’ll like it, promise, or I’ll buy you two dinners.”

“Here’s hoping I hate it, then,” Jughead says dryly, as they make for the car. It makes that weird sound again, but it’s gone in an instant, and the Ford roars to life, so Jughead doesn’t have time to dwell on it before Archie starts feeding him new directions.

When they cross the border into New York state, Jughead gets nervous, but Archie is practically bouncing in his seat with excitement, which appeases him a bit. But if it turns out to be the Football Hall of Fame or the Baseball Hall of Fame or, hell, even the Racquetball Hall of Fame, he swears he’s turning around and going straight back to Boston.

But they turn into a parking lot with a sign reads Welcome to the Motorcyclepedia Museum! and Jughead is awash with relief. Motorcycles. This might actually be good. 

They pay for their tickets and head on in; the experience is completely wacky, and just as kitschy as Archie promised it would be, but actually kind of cool. There are famous motorcycles from history, including one that road in the motorcade the day JFK was shot, and even some from movies, which he particularly geeks out over.

Granted, the bar was pretty low after Archie dragged him to a weekend long beach party of self-indulgence and then the fucking Basketball Hall of Fame, but Jughead has to it to him: this one was pretty fun.

Especially because Jughead always wanted a motorcycle, like his dad, and he’d even learned to ride and gotten as far as the special program certificate as required by the state of Massachusetts. He’d been all set to get one—but then life got in the way, as it does, and the motorcycle suddenly seemed like such a silly idea. He had responsibilities thrust upon him and he wasn’t gonna drop his sister off at school from the back of a bike. So he turned to the truck, and it hasn’t proved him wrong yet.

“Knew you’d like this place,” Archie grins as they head back towards the parking lot. Dusk is settling low over their heads. “So you’re buying dinner.”

“That was not the deal, so, no,” Jughead chuckles, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Alright, I propose we drive a little more, grab some grub, and then find a motel to crash for the night.”

“Sounds good, dude,” Archie says, pulling out his map. “Alright…we wanna get on 90, so we should take highway 87 up the state. Let’s head towards Hudson and stop there for food and beds. Midge told me about how cute it is up there and said we should check it out. Apparently she and Moose went antiquing there once.”

“Golly, Archie,” Jughead drawls, “I didn’t realize this was an elaborate excuse to go looking for the perfect shabby chic bedroom set of our dreams.”

“Shut up,” Archie laughs. “Just drive. It’s getting late and I’m a growing boy. Need to eat.”

“Hate to break it to you pal, but you’re 26. Officially, you’re done growing,” Jughead says, as he puts the key in the ignition. It squeaks at him again, but once again starts without any other issue. He stares at his steering wheel. “Why does it keep doing that?”

“Dunno,” his friend yawns. “I’m sure it’s fine. Come on. Food. Archie hungry. Archie want to eat.”

“Ugh, don’t get all caveman on me. I’m hungry constantly and I still manage to use all my grammatical articles,” Jughead sighs, pulling out of the parking lot. The ride upstate is quiet and twinkling as the stars come out to greet them. Even on the road, the further upstate they get, the brighter the stars become.

However, also the further upstate they get, the hungrier Jughead gets. He realizes he hasn’t eaten much all day and, with an audible growl from his stomach, he decides he might not make it all the way to Hudson.

“What are you doing?” Archie asks, as Jughead starts to cross lanes towards an exit.

“Taking the first exit I see,” Jughead says grouchily, his appetite making him grumpy. “I’m suddenly starving.”

“Dude, it’s not far left to Hudson, just keep going,” Archie says.

But a bright neon sign is visible from the far right lane and Jughead gives a triumphant, “A-ha! A diner. I want a damn small-town-diner burger and I want it now. We’re going there.”

Shrugging, Archie doesn’t argue. That’s another thing that Jughead likes about his best friend: he’s as impulsive as he is go-with-the-flow. It sometimes makes for a disastrous combination of attitudes, as Archie tends to believe following the yen to make a ridiculously sudden 180 in his life will just “work out” but right now, Jughead appreciates the hell out of it. His stomach howls at him.

They pull off the highway and follow the massive neon sign, which just reads Pop’s in bold red letters. Jughead might’ve expected some kind of truck stop diner, given it’s proximity to the road and the set of train cars ambling along a track behind the restaurant, but it seems quaintly doo-wop and almost straight out of time.

He and Archie throw a tarp over their bags in the bed of the truck and hustle inside. Soft, ambient music welcomes them and the crowd is mostly families and teenagers. It just might be a wholesome as it appears.

A round-faced man meets them at the door. “Two?” He asks amiably.

Jughead nods, taking in his surroundings. Something in his chest unlocks to the tune of a jukebox, and the soft red light falling gently over the restaurant sets him at a peace he didn’t know he was missing. It’s quiet. Safe. Calm. Everything a small town diner should be.

Something pokes his shoulder, and he realizes it’s Archie gesturing to follow after him to their table. He slides into his booth and heaves a deep sigh. “This looks good,” Archie says lightly, glancing over his menu.

Good doesn’t begin to cover it, Jughead thinks, gears whirring in his mind. The character in his first book would love a place like this. He’d been planning on setting the sequel in the same city as the first, but now he’s wondering if plopping the hero in a completely new setting is what the manuscript has been missing.

But then what? Move him for what reason? What is he looking for? What would be his motivation?

Jughead wishes he had his laptop, or a pen and paper at least, because this is the first burst of inspiration he’s had in months and he doesn’t want to lose it. But his computer is locked away in the car and he’s too hungry to properly focus anyway.

Their waitress appears at their table expectantly, and she’s very pretty, so Jughead waits for the inevitable drooling and clumsiness from Archie. True to form, the redhead tries to rest his elbow on his menu, but it slips under him and he practically hits his forehead on the table.

She watches with mirth. “Hi,” she says, in a cool, sophisticated voice. “I’m Veronica, and I’ll be your server tonight. Do you need another minute, or do you boys know what you want?”

Jughead thinks that Archie certainly does.

So with a sigh, he folds himself over his menu. “Double cheeseburger. The works. Fries. Pickles. Chips might be good too, actually. Vanilla milkshake. And a black coffee.”

Veronica raises an arched eyebrow. “That’s all for you? Or is there a tapeworm in there somewhere paying rent?”

Archie laughs loudly at her joke—a little too loudly, because she turns to him with a curious, amused look. But, Jughead notes, not an uninterested look either. He’s not surprised. This is the perpetual riddle of Archie Andrews—makes a total clumsy buffoon of himself, yet somehow still gets a date anyway.

He assumes it must have something to do with Archie’s looks and gym schedule, but it’s still always been a bit of a mystery to him. He knows he’s not completely without positive traits, but if he slipped on his own menu and then guffawed loudly at a girl’s joke, she’d look at him like a piece of old gum under a shoe.

Archie ends up ordering a regular cheeseburger and just fries, and Veronica whisks away. As soon as she’s out of earshot, Archie gets a star struck look in his eye and says, “Man, I’m glad you picked this place.”

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Dinner is good—quite good, actually—and surprisingly not too greasy given it’s a small town diner off the side of the highway. Jughead is bereft to go, but he orders a burger for the road, and it’ll have to do.

They load up into the truck; Archie has been sighing for the past ten minutes, like some tortured Shakespearean lover. “Why didn’t I try to get her number?” He asks, for the third time.

Jughead puts the keys in the ignition. “Because we’re going to Chicago, you live in Boston, and she lives in some random small town in upstate New York. I’ll get you a fishing rod when we get home so you can see how many fish there are in the sea.”

Archie just sighs moonily again.

Jughead turns the keys, the now familiar squeaking and clicking sound greeting him. Only this time, it doesn’t immediately stop. In fact, it doesn’t stop at all.

Jughead curses, and tries to turn the keys again. The engine makes a terrible whirring sound and, to Jughead’s horror, smoke starts to rise from the hood of the truck. He immediately pulls the keys out of the ignition and stares, jaw-slacked, as Archie rushes out to open up the hood. He steps back and waves the smoke out of his face. “This looks bad, Jug,” he coughs. “Uh, I think we're stuck.” 

Jughead bangs his forehead against the steering wheel. Hits it once, hits it twice. Repeats it again for good measure.

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