#then he’ll notice the missing foot and probably put the pieces together…

[roscolate]

JELL-O BRINGING ON THE HURT FOR THE 1 YEAR MOVIE ANNIVERSARY AS EXPECTED 😫😫😭😭

TW // suicidal ideation

BGM - The Inside Out - Cinderella Man

BGM - Unsettling Ambience - Pokémon Ultra Sun/Moon

ACT 1

ACT 2

ACT 3 - 1 <<< 14 / 15 / ???

Huehuehuehuehuehuehuehuehuehue

@katlyntheartist I hope you like the cameo 👉🏼👈🏼

Happy 1st Year Anniversary of the Mario Bros Movie 😌

[ptergwen]

Hey could you write one where the reader helps tom, who's heavily drunk, get home? Somehow tonight he's a sad drunk and cries about random things to the reader it amuses the reader, but later surprised when tom cries saying that he thinks the reader is dating someone else because he saw the reader going out with a guy days before??

warnings: lots of drinking mentions and swearing

a/n: woah this is pretty long 😭 got a little carried away heh enjoy

-

“you’re where?” you ask into the phone, eyebrows furrowed as you try to make sense of tom’s drunken speech.

he seems to have gotten himself into a little bit of trouble. all his critical thinking skills blocked out by the alcohol, he ended up calling you. you’re now determined to find out where your friend is and help him home. tom has a track record for doing stupid shit when he’s drunk.

“th’ pub,” tom slurs back. “you wanna join me? have a drink?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. he’s leaning on the bar, but his arm slides and draws an oh, shit out of him. so he doesn’t hear your giggling, you put a hand over your mouth. “y/n/n, you coming?” he asks sort of desperately once he has his balance.

“yeah, tom. i’m on my way,” you reply and head to your front door, keys already in your hands. “hurry,” he commands, then takes a sip of beer from his nearly empty bottle. he’s not making this easy for you. the drunker he gets, the harder it is to drag his ass out of there. “i am, i am. see you soon.” you hang up with a sigh.

it doesn’t take you long to get to the pub, which is a good and sometimes bad thing, this time good. you find parking and speed walk inside. your eyes instantly scan the place for your buzzed best friend. he’s not hard to find in one of his signature white t-shirts, hair slicked back. he’s hunched over in the stool, and his head is down. that’s concerning.

the bartender is cleaning up a spill nearby him when you approach the bar. tom whines out a series of, “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i’m really sorry,” to him. he’s crying. weeping would be more accurate. his whole body moves while he sobs into his arms. you sit down next to him and put a hand on his back.

he looks over at you with tears falling down his cheeks. “tom, what happened?” you frown, already turned to face him. his eyes water again. “i- i spilled my drink and it got all over and i feel so bad, y/n,” tom tells you in a high pitched tone, the bartender placing down another beer in front of him.

you shoot him a glare because he’s clearly had enough. he swings the rag he was using to clean over his shoulder and shrugs. isn’t part of his job knowing when to cut people off?

“thank you,” tom mumbles to the guy, who gives him a nod before tom grabs the beer off the counter. you snatch it away from him. “oh, no. that’s enough already.” you put his drink down on the other side of you. that encourages tom to cry some more, hiding his face in his arms for a second time. “no fair!” he yells and sounds like a child while doing it.

“you’re gonna have a really bad hangover, or puke this all up, or both,” you explain your confiscation to him. “probably both.” tom lifts his head up, eyes sad yet hopeful at the same time. he grabs your hand with both of his. “will you take care of me?” the question, mostly how he asks it, makes your heart clench.

“of course. let’s get you home, okay?” you stand up and loop an arm around his back. tom follows suit, you pulling him towards you and grabbing his jacket off the stool. “no, i wanna stay with you.” he insists, stumbling forward as you lead him towards the exit. you’re hoping he already paid because you don’t feel like that sketchy bartender coming after you.

“sure, you can spend the night. we haven’t had a sleepover in a while,” you agree, pushing open the door with your foot, arms preoccupied with tom. your offhanded joke makes him emotional again. there’s more to it, though. “it’s- it’s been so long,” tom sniffles out. “aw,” you chuckle and tighten your arm around him.

he used to stay over your place a lot before he moved in with the boys and harry. he misses being able to crawl into your bed and snore while you lay in his arms. you also miss it, so it’s funny how neither of you have said anything.

the tears in tom’s eyes make his vision blurry, which in turn makes him trip over a rock. “sorry, man,” he apologizes to it, you steadying him and letting out another laugh. he’s funny when he’s so far gone. “we’re almost at the car,” you let him know with a tiny smile. “‘mkay,” tom nods and wipes his tears away, leaning into you for the rest of the way there.

tom does fine for most of the car ride. there’s an incident where he gags and you almost pull over, but he ends up not needing it. he feels so awful he nearly puked in your car that it makes him cry yet again. you promise him it’s fine, that you don’t mind and everything is fine. you’ve never seen drunk or sober tom act like this.

you bring him straight to your room when you get home, dropping him on the bed and huffing. tom falls onto his back. he closes his eyes and purses his lips. “do you need anything?” you pant, answering yourself before he does. “you should have some water.” “ok,” tom mumbles and drags his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “ma’am,” he adds.

rolling your eyes, you make your way to the kitchen to get him a water bottle. you start to wonder why he got so plastered in the first place. seeing him in this state beyond worries you. you love tom too much to watch him fall apart. you really love him.

you come back to your room and flick on the lights. tom throws an arm over his head, mouth agape and a groan escaping it. “shit, sorry,” you giggle, shutting the lights off. “you’re a madwoman,” he rasps back. he sounds slightly more aware of himself now. “well, you’re a madman. here.” you toss him the water.

tom obviously doesn’t catch it, so it lands on his stomach. he rips off the cap and goes to take a sip while laying down. he’ll throw up for real this time if he does that.

“tom, tom, tom,” you murmur to yourself in a playfully disapproving tone. you take a seat next to him, tugging at his hand to get him to sit up. he smiles lazily and brings the bottle to his lips, watching a smile spread across your own face while he takes a sip. the two of you make eye contact for long enough that you notice something visibly shift within him.

tom looks down at his lap instead, taking his mouth off the water with a pop. he then exhales through his nose rather reflectively. you take notice of that, squinting at him in the dark. “what?” you wonder aloud. a few seconds go by without tom saying anything, deciding if it’s worth bringing up. he figures he might as well say it because it’ll come out eventually.

“the other day,” tom starts, voice deep and alcohol still in his system. “were you out with someone? a guy?” you’re not quite sure what he’s referring to. “huh?” is all you say back. “harry was picking up dinner, said he saw you on a date at the restaurant.” he gets quieter during the second part, almost upset. you sit up from the comfortable position you were in.

“harry was there? i didn’t know that,” you tell him as you try to piece together the story. tom takes that as confirmation. “so, you were on a date?” he caps the water and throws it somewhere on your bed. “i need another drink.” “it wasn’t a date- hang on.” it finally clicks with you why he was getting wasted by himself in the latest hours of the night.

“you were drinking because you thought i went on a date?” you ask tom softly, another smile pulling at your lips. “um...” he blows out of his mouth and nods, still nodding as he speaks. “yeah. made me feel shitty.” what you said now registers with him. he perks up ever so slightly. “but, you said it wasn’t a date?” “no,” you quickly dismiss. “he’s in one of my classes.”

“we were working on an assignment, and i thought having him over would give him the wrong idea.” you’re grinning by the end of your explanation because of what you feel is about to come next. tom beams back at you, moving closer to you on the bed. “good,” he affirms and brings a hand up to your cheek. his wide pupils search yours, thumb brushing your skin.

“‘cuz i like you, and love you.” his voice drops to a whisper. “love you a lot.” “i like you too,” you breathe out, enjoying the way his warm hand makes your skin tingle. “and, i love you.” “wish i knew that before i got fucking pissed,” tom mumbles, but seems unbothered because he leans in to kiss you. you’re met with his beer breath before giving him a push back.

“speaking of, you’re still drunk,” you laugh and comb your fingers through his matted curls. “i’m not,” tom protests, ducking away from you. scoffing, you retract your hand with a knowing look. “you are. i can smell it. we should go to sleep, tom.” he caves and lays down, letting his head fall in your lap. “fine. can we at least cuddle?”

he’s relentless.

but, you say yes.

[justkending]

The Number One Rule. Chapter 16.

Series Summary: Y/N has always been seen as ��Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor's degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left, but don’t worry the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other's buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N Rogers (Steve’s little sister)

Word Count: 5700+

A/N: This chapter is going to give us quite a bit of background information and some throwback memories. I really enjoyed writing this one and creating a past for these characters. All of them. Let me know what you think! I’m so excited to share this one with you all:)

Chapter Sixteen:

“You know, I thought that we were close enough that you could come to me with this kind of thing. That you wouldn’t feel like you had to hide it from me. Y/N and you both,” he said with pursed lips. “Guess I was wrong.” 

With that he turned back and walked to his car. Bucky watched as he started the engine, pulled out, and disappeared. 

What the hell kind of mess just happened?

Bucky stood there for a second. He couldn’t wrap his head around what just went down in the slightest. Steve was no longer angry at him, he caught onto that. Or at least he thought that was the case. 

No, Steve was disappointed. That was far worse than hatred coming from your best friend. Coming from anyone really, but the person you’ve been joined at the hip to, for 26 years? Yeah. That punches you in the gut and knocks all the wind out of you.

Eventually, remembering Y/N was upstairs probably pacing the ground and biting her nails not knowing what was happening, he started moving to the back porch steps. 

He wasn’t even three steps into the kitchen before Y/N was around the corner rushing to him.

“What happened?” she said looking up at him and instantly putting her hands around his upper arm. “Is that blood? Did he hit you?” she said gently, but urgently as she grazed over the split lip. “Oh, I’m going to murder him,” she said through her teeth, immediately moving to the back door. 

Bucky caught her by the waist and pulled her back into him. 

“Don’t. Don’t. He’s not out there. He left,” he explained as he tugged her back into the kitchen.

“He left? He just punched you and left?” she questioned. A fire in her eyes swirling just as much as the storm Steve had in his earlier. The types of rage are completely opposite, but at the same time just as furious.

“We talked after he punched me, but can’t say I didn’t deserve it.” Disappointment dripped from his own words.

“You didn’t deserve it, B. No one deserves getting punched about something like this.” The fire started to dim as she focused her energy back on the brunette that still had her wrapped in his arms by her waist. His eyes downcast, looking as if in another world. “Hey, talk to me. What happened?” Gently she brought her hand to his cheek and convinced him to look at her. “Talk to me, please.”

They moved to the living room and sat on the couch facing each other. Bucky had almost seemed distant, as though touching or being close to her now was a crime. No doubt Steve’s words had an effect on him in the moment.

He explained pieces of what happened. Mainly just how Steve was upset thinking they were sleeping together, and when he cleared that up, he had just expressed his disappointment of the two. He was upset and deeply hurt that they felt like they had to hide this from him.

“Could he blame us though? He literally split your lip after finding out,” she motioned to him, scooting closer to place the ice covered by a washcloth they got earlier, to his lip. 

“I’ve taken harder hits, doll. And even if he got me pretty good, I could tell he was holding back at least some.” He placed his hand over hers and sent a sad smile before taking the homemade ice pack for himself. 

“This is going to be hard to come back from with him, isn’t it?” she asked, saddened by the pain she caused her brother. Bucky could see multiple thoughts running through her head as her eyes moved back and forth while looking down. “We aren’t going to end this though, are we?” 

Her tone broke Bucky’s heart hearing her say that. The pain, worry, and complete devastation of the idea was playing like a movie in her eyes. 

“What? No!” he said, quickly shutting that idea down as he dropped the rag and grabbed both her hands. “I love Steve and I would do anything for him, but I have to draw a line- Well, I have to draw a line when it affects my happiness.” She looked at him hopeful. “In the end, I know he’ll come around. I’m not going to lose you just because of this hiccup. Sure, I don’t really know how long Steve’s going to hate me, but we’ll work it through. Nothing can hurt us that bad. You know that.”

“I do, but it still worries me.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N/N. Really, he’ll come around. It’ll just take time.”

___________________

And boy was it taking its sweet ass time…

Two weeks had passed. Bucky and Y/N still went about their love life the same way. Not wanting to rub it in Steve’s face, they steered clear of Bucky’s shared home with him. Bekah had been talking to a guy herself, and spent a lot of nights over there, so they took advantage of her empty apartment when they could. 

Luckily they wouldn’t have to worry about that too long as Y/N was looking into renting a flat herself to get some of her independence back from coming home. Of course, she worried about her mom, but Sarah was sweet and said she understood and was excited for her. She was taking more shifts at the hospital anyway, so they rarely saw each other with their opposite schedules. Sarah did make her promise Sunday dinners to continue, as it was tradition. 

Speaking of, Steve had conveniently had a work thing come up each time, so he had missed the past two weeks. 

“This is so unlike him. He usually moves his work schedule around Sunday dinners, not the other way around,” Sarah sighed as she handed a bowl of a roast over to her daughter. 

“He’s not too happy with me, Ma. I think he’s avoiding me,” she mumbled. She was all happy to be over before her mom mentioned him.  

“Why would he do that? You just got home a little over 2 months ago. That’s barely anytime I would hope for you two to start a fight up. Let alone one that I’m realizing is going on two weeks,” she said with a knowing look as she sat across from Y/N.

“It’s hard to explain. He has a good reason, but he’s also being childish about it,” she said poking at the potatoes and beef on her plate. An old irish recipe. 

“Hmmm, I see.” Causally, Sarah went back to eating as if her understanding wasn’t questionable. 

“You see? What exactly do you see?” she asked tilting her head and raising an eyebrow at her mom. She knew that look. It was the, ‘mom knows everything, even if you think she doesn’t,’ look.

“It’s quite obvious to anyone who has eyes, but I’m not going to put my comments where they don’t belong.” Again, so casual as she took a drink of water and went back to eating. 

“Sarah Rogers, you little spy. What do you know?” Y/N chuckled. Her tone was joking, but deep down intrigued. 

“Why don’t you say it dear? I don’t want to have my foot in my mouth if I’m wrong,” she gestured. “Not that I’ll be wrong, but I’ll give you a chance,” she winked. 

She eyed her mom for a second. The two sending the same stares and telepathically talking.

Then it hit her. 

“Oh my GOD! You know?!” Y/N jumped almost out of her seat, but considering the table was in the way, she sat up straight and hit her knee. “Ow, shit.”

“Language,” her mom chided. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “But you knew?” her disbelief coming back. “How long have you-?”

“Lord, as soon as Bucky set his eyes on you coming home. I mean of course I wasn’t there when you saw each other for the first time after all these years, but when we had dinner that night? He was practically fawning over you,” Sarah shrugged, going back to her meal.

“He was?”

“Plain as day, Mini. Though, I wouldn’t put it past you to not notice, considering he acted almost the same when you two were in highschool.”

“What?!” Y/N jumped again. Her food was long forgotten. 

“Actually at that point, I think you both were blind to it. Bucky may not even known back then,” she tilted her head.

“Okay mom, you’re throwing a lot of things at me at once. I can’t keep up, can you elaborate some?” Y/N threw her hands up as if to stop her from moving forward anymore.

“Where to start?” Sarah put her silverware down and brought her elbows up on the table before interlocking her fingers and looking off as if watching the scenes replay in front of her. 

“Freshman year, you were part of the crew that was in charge of the cancer carnival to raise all the money for that charity. You had come home and were going on and on and on about all the different ways you had come up to raise that money. Photobooths, dunk tanks, crazy games, snowcones, and all that fun stuff. Bucky and Steve had just come in from playing basketball in the driveway and were getting something to drink. Steve laughed as you went on and teased you about how you should be put in the dunk tank, and Bucky just had this look in his eye. Pure admiration for your excitement for that specific cause. That and you told your brother off showing even more how dedicated you were.”

“That was oddly specific…” 

“Oh, I’m just getting started…” Sarah had a devilish amused look on her face. “But I guess I’ll just stick with one for each year.” She waved off. “Sophomore year, you were invited to prom from an upperclassman. Who was it?”

“Peter Quill. Ugh, I remember that. He ended up ditching me that night halfway through the prom.”

“Hmm mm, Steve had called saying they were leaving early to bring you home. You were upset and bored not knowing really anyone else there.”

“I honestly had only said yes because I wanted to go to the dance with another upperclassman and rub it in Brock’s face at the time. Bucky and Steve were seniors, so they were there too…” She thought back. Her chin in her hand as she listened to the stories. 

“Well, Steve brought you home and Bucky was with him. I guess Bucky’s girlfriend at the time had the flu or something and couldn’t go, so they went with a group of guys.” Sarah got a little sidetracked, but quickly reeled in it. “Anyway, when the night was over, they had already planned on going to Bucky’s for the night. However, I came around the corner after they dropped you off and were about to head back out, and I saw Bucky was convincing Stevie to stay here that night.”

“What? That’s why they were here? I remember that actually... There was an after party at another seniors house.” Sarah raised an eyebrow knowing what happened after parties, but not knowing that was where her son had originally planned to go. “Sorry, but you know how high schoolers are. Don’t act shocked,” she chuckled. “I remember them going, but they came home pretty early.”

“Wonder why…” Sarah sighed to herself taking another bite of food before it got cold. 

Not hearing her, Y/N went on. 

“Bucky and I talked that night at like 1 in the morning to like 4. We ran into each other in the kitchen getting a late night snack, and it turned into a whole deep talk,” she thought back. “One of the few times we had a conversation like adults instead of pushing each other's buttons.”

“Yes, and you were so stunned and surprised by it, you gushed about it to me later,” Sarah nodded. “Little did you know, you had woken me up at the time and when I came to see what all the noise was in the kitchen, you and Bucky were laughing about something on the kitchen floor with your backs propped up on the cabinets. A stash of junk food sitting between you two as you talked.”

“But what does that have to do with-?”

“I came in when you were going on and on about a new history topic that you had dived into that month. You didn’t even notice him with wide eyes and absolute fondness for how smart and passionate you were on the subject. You were too busy talking to notice, I’m sure,” she laughed. 

Y/N had to think back a little further for that memory, but it popped up. “Oh God, I was going on about the progression of execution styles in the Roman times,” she threw her head in her hands of embarrassment. 

“Yeah, crazy thing to be looking at a girl like that in that kind of conversation. Talking about chopping people’s heads off wouldn’t be something I see a boy fawning over, and he looked at you like it was the most amazing story to be told. But then again, there he was. Completely blind himself.”

“Wow… I forgot about that moment. I remember the night, but some details are a little fuzzy. Not that one…” she whispered. 

“And the way you talked about it the next day? You had the same look. Subtle and hidden, but deep down I could see the wonder in your eyes.”

Y/N smiled as she leaned forward like a child at story time. “What about Junior year?”

“Let’s see. By then Bucky and Steve had gone overseas. We didn’t see much of them…”  Sarah was slightly saddened. She was proud of her son in those moments, but the fear and worry that comes with sending a child into war isn’t that fond of a feeling. 

Y/N reached across grabbing her moms hand and giving her an encouraging soft smile. Clearing her throat she started again.

 “In saying that, there may have been a moment in person, but they only came back for a month that whole year. I didn’t like that year,” she shook her head. “Who sent you all those letters though?” She asked looking back with that same knowing look. 

“Steve… and Bucky. I wrote to them both, and I was surprised when Bucky asked me to write to him as well.”

“Didn’t expect that one, hmm?” Sarah smiled. “I don’t know what was written in them, for all I know he was just sending you jokes and teasing you from over the sea like your brother did here and there... But I have a feeling there were some personal things said too.” 

“I actually kept all of those. They are in a box in my room. I have Steves in there too,” she smiled fondly as if she had completely forgotten them. Though she could never actually do that. She remembers very well all the excitement of running and checking the mail in hopes of another one being delivered. From both of them. 

Her mom was right, there were a few teasing and goofy ones, but the longer he was over there, the more serious they got. There were some crazy terrifying stories and confessions to fear in those. He had mentioned he was only writing to his family and her, but she always wondered why he sent her things like that and not his family. 

She had asked Becca once about a letter they had received, and they were sweet, but they disguised the sense of fear and longing to be home. He didn’t want his family to worry. 

That’s when Y/N started taking their writing more seriously. She would practically let him vent and write out all his struggles and frustrations while over there, and Y/N would send back distractions of random history facts (which by the way, he asked for personally even if he jested her at home for them). Then she would tell him about her week, something else he asked for, and try to send words of wisdom and reassurance for his time. 

He appreciated those and Y/N appreciated him trusting her with those thoughts. It’s not like he could send them to Steve when Steve was going through his own war over there with him.

How did she not pick up on the rise of finding respect for the other during then? The start of full-on admiration. 

“Those letters stopped coming in the next year,” Y/N deflated in her spot. The next wave of memories contained her senior year. “Well, they came, but I never could get around to writing back with everything happening.”

“You’re graduate year… Steve came back home after we got the news. It took him a while to get approved, but they dismissed him from duty out of how much he had already served in his short time there. Brave man, your brother,” she says chuckling to cover the tears that were already forming in her eyes. Her daughter's eyes matched. She grabbed her hand again, this time giving it a loving squeeze. “That was a very hard year for all of us.”

“Steve came back, but Bucky had to stay. But he somehow got time off for a few weeks to come visit…”

“Remember his first visit?” Sarah said with a sad smile.

Thinking back to that time of grief and sadness, she really had to dig. She didn’t really dust off those memories often. It wasn’t really a time you would want to look back on.

“The hospital,” Y/N eventually said in a hushed airless whisper. “How did I forget that?”

“Those were moments one doesn’t really want to recall often,” Sarah said with a new tear falling. She had a smile on her face, but it was sad and soft. Nothing stemming from joy. 

“We had just got the word,” she gasped faintly, trying to suck back the air that had left her body thinking of the horrible night. “After the surgery, one of too many, the doctors told us…” Taking a second, she hadn’t said this in a while as the family was hush hush when talking about the last days. “We only had a few months with him.”

________________________

5 years ago: 

“He… He wha-?” Steve stammered out. “But he was in remission, not too long ago. He was fine!”

He was furious with the new information. He knew there was a chance of these specific results as his father had a new surgery every month for the cancer. Trying to locate it, trying to cut it out, trying to shrink it, trying to get rid of it with all their might. Every surgery you go in, you’re about to learn if it’s worse or better. And this? This was the worse they had gotten yet. 

“I’m sorry, Steve. You know I don’t want to tell you this news, but cancer is a horrible horrible demon we have to face in this world unfortunately,” the doctor said. He had been with them the whole journey so the family had grown rather close with Bruce Banner. Someone their father actually worked alongside with. “Just when you’re doing better, it changes things up. I will say with all the past surgeries, we probably got you a few more months then expected. We believe a few months ago, without the treatment he's undergone so far, he would no longer be here with us today.”

“So we bought him a few months. What does that matter for, if it didn’t fix it all?” Steve shouted. The anger wasn’t toward the doctor. He knew that and they knew that. But he needed someone to blame for the shit he was being handed. He couldn’t just yell at the universe. 

“Steven,” Sarah had said softly. Speaking for the first time since Steve had started his rant. “Calm down honey. Shouting and screaming isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“Nothing’s going to get us anywhere apparently,” he hissed. His hand coming up on his head as he looked up. After a second, he harshly ran his hand down his face and looked at his mom again. He could see her guard start to fall and Steve couldn’t handle having to be strong for them right now. He was too hurt. It was too painful. He was going to break and he couldn’t let them see him do that. ���Ugh, I need air. I need to get some air. I-I can’t-.” With that, he walked in long strides to the elevator and the exit. 

Sarah shook her head at the tears escaping without her consent. Turning to Y/N, she saw her youngest looking slightly downwards, frozen. Her nails were already being bitten from her nervous tick, and her eyes showing she was no longer on this earth mentally.

“Y/N,” Sarah said, taking a deep breath and standing taller. “Why don’t you go wait in the waiting room? Sit down, ok. I’m just going to talk to Dr. Banner real fast, hmm?” 

No answer. She patted her shoulder making him jump slightly as if she had never consciously been there to start. She gave her a nod and Y/N nodded back and started mindlessly heading to the waiting room with her arms folded tight across her body for comfort. Any comfort…

“Y/N?” 

She had been mindlessly looking at the ground in the chair she sat in. She couldn’t tell if it had been 5 minutes or an hour later from leaving the room with her mom.

“Y/N/N?”

That finally got her attention and she turned to see Bucky standing with his helmet in hand and jean jacket half-hazardly shifting off his shoulder from racing in from his bike. 

“B-Buck?” she said softly sitting straighter. 

Bucky sent her a sad smile as he walked to her, but he made it about 4 steps before she was running into his arms and clinging to him like he was air itself. 

“They can’t help him, Buck,” she finally said after crying for a few minutes while he ran a hand down her back softly and let her get it all out. “They said they can’t do anything further,” she pulled back enough to look up. Her arms around his middle and his around her shoulders. “We have a few months…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky sighed, finally getting the news he was waiting to hear, but this wasn’t what he was ready for. He could feel her heartbeat get faster, and at first, he just thought it was the hint to another crying session about to erupt. 

In which case, bring it on. He wanted to help her like she had helped him with all those letters of support. But then he noticed her start to slightly hyperventilate. He knew what those two combos usually come out to and he wished he didn’t.  

He brought her to a chair he was planning on sitting her in, but instead she plopped herself on the ground. Bucky instantly moved down there with her and looked her over. 

“Hey, hey, sweetheart. You’re ok. I got you. Take a deep breath,” he said, bringing her to sit in his lap and hugged her as tight as he could. The feeling of pressure was a calming mechanism for anxiety attacks. 

“I-I c-c-an’t,” she stuttered out with hiccups that were forming from her lungs needing air. 

“Yes, you can. Focus, doll.” He started doing the breathing exercises himself as a way to guide her since their bodies were intertwined. She needs to sync to his breathing. 

She stuttered a little, but her breathing was slowly calming down. 

“That’s it… You’ve got it. In and out,” he coached, feeling with each sentence she relaxed more and more. “You’re ok. I got ya. You’re doing great Y/N.”

Eventually she was back to normal. Well, not really. An anxiety attack like that is the kind that leaves you winded afterwards. Completely draining you from energy. 

He sat there and rocked her gently in their spot. Her back backed up to his chest and Bucky’s legs spread out with hers inside them as he kept his arms wrapped around her torso. The pressure helps, it really does. 

He whispered reassuring words while he played with her hair and then she leaned back and was reaching peak calmness. She turned her head on his shoulder and he looked down at her with his crystal eyes. Their faces inches apart, but nothing other than sorrow in their body.

“They said to be glad we had that long with him as every minute counts. Make all the memories you can in that time...” She closed her eyes for a second taking another deep breath before looking back at him. “How can you make memories you would want to have not so sad knowing the exact day your father could die? What good memories come from that?”

Bucky physically felt her heart in her chest break as if they shared the same one. The emotion he was reading in her eyes this time was one of the few that Bucky could never pinpoint. It was fear, sadness, depression, and longing all rolled into a scared Y/E/C eye colored girl’s orbs.

“You’re allowed to be upset Y/N. You don’t have to fake happiness during this time. Your emotions are there to be felt... But at the end of the day, would you want to look back at more fake happy memories or true and real happiness?” Bucky said. 

She wanted to make the next days her unhappy ones and leave it at that. He was right, she should and could feel sad and mad now. This situation called for it. But she didn’t want them to take up the majority of her last memories with her dad.

“Hey, you got Stevie and I,” he whispered in her ear as she turned forward again. 

“Steve just yelled at our doctors for almost 15 minutes straight from deniel and then ran out the door like a sissy,” her voice monotone, but he could hear the upset nature behind her words. “Steve’s just as messed up as me.”

“One, you’re not messed up in the least. Two, you are human. Shitty things happen and we have to go through it in each our own way. Three, no grieving process is the same. You’re allowed to scream in your pillow cause you're mad. Or cry for hours on end because you can’t comprehend it. You’re allowed to go eat a whole pint of ice cream by yourself because you're sad. Hell, I’ll join ya,” he squeezed her hand that he had interlocked together on their right side. A light start of a chuckle came out and she squeezed it back. 

“As long as you don’t insist on Rocky Road.”

“Really? I’m coming to your cry session and you’re banning me from my favorite ice cream? Some cry party,” he faked hurt. 

She let out an actual laugh and turned back to him. “I may have a cry party or two…” He nodded, showing he was proud of her for feeling that was ok and agreed with it. Her eyes showed the actual sadness behind the temporary humor, it was still there swimming around. Her smile wasn’t masking anything. “I guess you can pick your flavor you want to binge on. I get to judge you though if it sucks,” she joked.

She was distracting herself and he was ok with that. He would keep in that direction as long as she needed. And right now, she didn’t want to think about the inevitable. Remember, more happy than sad at the end. 

“What brand are we going for?” she asked. He wrapped his arms over her shoulders as she laid back on his chest in their sitting position. Her arms holding onto them in the front like the anchor that he was acting like. 

“Um, is that even a question?” he gasped. “I have good taste, Miss. Rogers. What brand do you think I go for?” 

“I’m going to say with that pretentiousness, that it’s Ben and Jerry’s,” she grinned, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nothing beats Ben and Jerry’s,” he nodded proud in his choice.

“Ok, but hear me out… Halo.” He looked at her like she was crazy. “It's like low calorie ones that are really good and kinda healthier than regular ice cream.”

“Darling, if I’m bingeing on some ice cream, you bet your ass I’m going to go all out. No low cal, shit. I want all the brownie batter.”

“Geez, you really are an ice cream snob,” she laughed more. “Guess you’ll have to try mine though because I promise you’ll join the dark side.”

“Dark side?” he asked. 

“Yeah, cause you’re eating healthy while eating ice cream, one of the most sugared things to exist. Actually, get this, In the 1880’s they invented the sundae, and after that, the amount of sugar we started adding to our toppings every decade, just kept going up in sugar.” When she finished her little fact splurge, Bucky was looking down at like she was crazy, but still smiling. 

“You’re strange, you know that? What normal person memorizes random facts like the year the ice cream sundae was invented? Or, what was it the other day?” he thought back.

“Oh, how the entire earth’s population can fit inside Los Angeles,” she remembered. “Then that led to talking about global warming, and then-…”She began listing off all the random things that followed after another. 

Her mom had peaked out the curtain 5 minutes ago to check on Y/N, and found her wrapped up in his arms comforted and then eventually laughing. They needed a little joy that night. So she took in every laugh Y/n let out followed by Bucky laughing or joking. Every single one is what got her through that night…

________________

“That’s when you saw it?” Y/N asked awestruck. She did remember that. That was one of her core memories with Bucky. She always glimpsed back to it when she was sad. It was advice she took seriously. You choose how many bad days you have. Choose wisely. 

“That’s when I knew it,” Sarah corrected. 

“Knew it? I thought you were talking about how he looked at me differently. What do you mean, knew it?” she asked, confused. 

“I had seen it all the time, but that’s when I knew he was head over heels for you. Seeing these things warmed my heart, but knowing it, gave me a whole new hope. As long as Bucky was there, you would be ok. He would make sure of that.”

“I thought that was so much longer ago…” Y/N said. “I guess I repressed it.”

“Bucky was your rock from day one, sweetheart. As soon as the world got dangerous for you, he became a huge protector over you. He checked in on you when he came over, he made you laugh, he knows how to push your buttons, but you love it. He’s a good kid Y/N.”

“I know. Which brings me to Steve being an ass and throwing a hissy fit about it.”

“Your brother is in shock right now. It was something he clearly did not see a mile away. Learning about it made him a little upset. I’ll talk to him.”

“Ma, I don’t need you to talk to him. You do that and he’ll be even more mad and think I tattle taled on him. Child,” she huffed. 

“Fine, then you better tell him. Because like it or not, I’m going to have my family dinners on Sunday, and I want BOTH of my children there. Not just one every once and awhile. Plus, you’re moving out in just a few weeks so I need you to get this done cause I’ll miss you,” she smirked. 

“Ok…” Y/N groaned basically being told to apologize and make amends to her big brother by her mom. She wouldn’t put it past her mom to ban Y/n from late night reading for punishment of not fixing it. She’d done it in highschool. She’ll do it again. “I’ll talk to him as soon as I can corner him. He’s been avoiding Bucky and I like the plague.”

“Well, then let’s set a trap.”

“Mom!”

“What? You need to fix it sooner rather than later and I want my kids to not hate each other. So, I’ll invite him over tomorrow for a makeup dinner and say you’re going out and won’t be here,” she started planning. “He won’t say no because I won’t let him. So he’ll come and you stay in your room until we’re settled, and then ta-da! He’s trapped.”

“Did you have this already typed up or something?” Y/N pulled back curiously shocked. Shaking her head out at her crazy organized mom. “Who’s to say he doesn’t stand up and walk out? I could about 99% see it going that way,” she nodded. 

“Honey, I’ll be home. He’s not leaving. Not while I’m here at least,” she winked. 

“You should become a serial killer as a side hobby. They would never catch you with how well planned out you are,” she teased her mom. 

“I thought about it once, but didn’t go my way,” Sarah stood up walking to the sink, winking.

“Mom! You’re on a roll tonight,” Y/N laughed loudly, throwing a little pea at her. 

“Hey, you make my kitchen floor a mess, and I may reconsider that side hobby,” she said pointing to the pea rolling away. 

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Y/N chuckled.

(Tags for this series will be closing soon as it is getting pretty full, please send an ask if you want to be added:)

I’ll post on whatever chapter I decided to close it down here.

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[bloobeary]

The hallway light is off when he gets home, but the one over the stove was on. Bucky knows that Steve did it on purpose so that Bucky wouldn’t have to stumble around inside in the middle of the night. It makes his heart stutter in his chest no matter how many times he sees it. So sweet, that guy of his. He’ll buy Steve some flowers, and make him breakfast and kiss him stupid tomorrow.

He toes off his boots at the door, and sets his bag down on the couch, that way it won’t make as much noise. There’s a few hours of night left before the sun starts to come up, a few hours before Steve peels himself out of bed and heads out for a run.

He’s asleep now, Bucky notices from where he creeps in through the bedroom door, arms around Bucky’s pillow, sheets around his hips. He’s even wearing one of Bucky’s old t-shirts, one that he’s sure he tossed in the hamper before he left. His mouth is a little open, and his hair is going every which way, and Bucky loves him so much it hurts to breathe.

He’s not around enough-- he knows this. Not that it’s on purpose, or Steve would ever hold it against him, but Bucky knows he misses him when he’s gone, just like Bucky misses Steve when he’s gone, too. But Steve gets all quiet and sad about it, mopes around like a droopy flower until Bucky gets home and refuses to admit that it’s hard on him. Usually, it doesn’t take much more than Bucky gluing himself to Steve like a burr to a sock for his smile to reach his eyes again, but Bucky’s not stupid. Plus, Natasha tattles.

Steve goes on ops just as much, ex-Captain America doesn’t get sidelined just because he changed uniforms, so Bucky doesn’t sleep much when Steve’s not around. He sits in bed staring at the ceiling until he can’t take it anymore. Things get fixed when Steve’s gone. Not that any of them are the ones that need to be fixed, but Bucky just needs something to do with his hands. He wonders if Natasha tells on him, too. They’re real pieces of work, two peas in one fucked up pod. They’re figuring it out.

The truth is they work too much, both of them. In and out of the house like it’ll hold them hostage if they stay for too long. Retirement comes up every so often, but even though Steve doesn’t carry the shield anymore, and Bucky’s not the Winter Soldier, they never get around to it. They’ve got too much time coiled in their bones to sit still, he thinks.

Really, Bucky doesn’t trust himself to ever leave if he gets used to being around Steve all the time. It’s hard enough leaving after they’ve got one day off together, Bucky can’t figure what it’d be like to take any actual amount of time off. After the helicarriers and everything else, Steve grabbed Bucky by the shoulders and said dont ever disappear on me again. Bucky shares the feeling. He thinks if they were to retire, officially and on paper, he’d never let Steve out of his sight again. That such a bad thing? He hears it in Steve’s voice, though he’ll never say it, not like that at least.

Bucky undresses quickly, quietly, on his side of the bed, back to the window so he can watch Steve sleep, make sure he doesn’t wake him up. He should shower, really--there’s dried sweat and what feels like a layer of grime caked onto his skin, even though he washed off the dried blood somewhat unceremoniously before debrief and he stinks. He should shower, but that would add ten minutes between him and Steve. It’s a selfish, unhygienic thought, but one he has anyways.

Steve takes a deep breath and stirs a little, and Bucky goes still, holds his breath until he settles again, face tucked into the pillow. Bucky’s heart feels too big for his body, then, and he decides that a shower can wait. He’ll change the sheets the next morning, as penance.

He crawls into his side of the bed, and wraps his arms around Steve’s middle, tucking his face into the rise of his neck and taking a breath. He smells clean and warm and a little like lavender--something about some fancy lotion he bought recently, his brain supplies-- he smells like home.

Bucky hopes a little distractedly that Steve will wake up on his own. He wants a kiss or a thousand and his heart yearns for Steve’s smile, but he also knows that once Steve’s up, he’s up. Bucky’s been jealous of him forever. How the hell can you get out of bed at three in the morning and be ready to go without so much as a cup of coffee? Standing there all chipper, eyes a little tired but bright nonetheless while the rest of the Howlies scraped themselves off the dirt trying to find some sort of energy. He could blame the serum, but the truth is he’s always been like that, even when he was too sick to stand. It’s absurd, is what it is. Bucky takes a breath and presses his lips to the back of Steve’s shoulder.

Steve doesn’t wake up quite, but he does lean back against Bucky’s chest, warm. It’s not a kiss, but it’ll do.

Not such a bad thing at all.

“Buck?” Steve asks sleepily, a few hours later, once the sun is filtering in through the blinds. He yawns and stretches a little. Bucky doesn’t even have to look at the clock to know that it's six-thirty on the dot. “When’d you come home?”

“Few hours ago.” He mumbles, and he feels Steve turn in his arms, and put a hand on his chest right over his heart. Bucky opens his eyes. The fine smatter of freckles over Steve’s nose greet him, and he can’t help but smile. “I love you,” He says, sincere, and Steve smiles, finally. Nearly a century’s worth of hearing it, and it still makes him blush. Some primal part of Bucky's ego swells with that. If he were anywhere near half awake he's probably puff his chest out like a fucking rooster or something equally stupid.

“Aw hell,” He says, laughing a little at himself before leaning forward to give Bucky a quick kiss. “I missed you. You okay?”

Bucky nods and holds Steve tighter, closer. “You gonna go run?”

Steve thinks about it, at least he pretends to. “No,” Steve says finally, simple as that. Bucky kisses him again.

Bucky could sleep another ten hours, and Steve’s liable to let him, even if he himself won’t. Steve puts a hand in Bucky’s hair and scratches at his scalp softly; it feels good, but Bucky makes a face, cause it’s dirty and greasy, and he really needs that shower. “What?”

Bucky shrugs. “I need a shower.” He says but makes no move to get up. “I stink.”

“You don’t.”

“Liar,” Bucky says, and then has to yawn right through it. “Don’t let me keep you if you got things to do.” He mumbles, resting his head against Steve’s collarbone.

It's mostly just so Steve doesn’t think he has to waste his day next to his exhausted and frankly quite dirty boyfriend. Not that said boyfriend will complain about lazing in bed all day next to him. In fact, that’s at the top of his things to do today list. He’s so warm and soft and right there. Bucky slides his hands up under Steve’s shirt, pressing them against his back. Bucky feels like he’s made of silly putty.

“Ain’t a damn thing in the world that’s more important than you,” Steve says, says it in the way he gets sometimes, all serious like he’s under oath or something. Bucky bites him and then kisses right over it.

“We work too much,” Bucky mumbles, feeling himself fall back into that syrupy sleep state. His hand is still in Bucky’s hair. He yawns again, and Steve smiles, kisses his nose. “Should take a vacation.”

“Should retire.” Steve one-ups him.

It’s a joke, kind of. Only it’s not.

“Yeah, we should,” Bucky says. He means it. He means it this time. “Sit on the porch and read the newspaper, and then fuck like married people at the end of the day,” Bucky says, and Steve laughs. He yawns again, and Steve says something, maybe, but he doesn’t quite catch it.

“Did you mean it?” Steve asks later, much later, when the sun’s going down again and they’ve both showered. He’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, holding a cooling mug of tea in one hand, sketchbook open but untouched on his lap.

“Mean what?” Bucky asks, looking up from his phone. He pokes his socked foot into Steve’s hip when he doesn’t get an answer. “Hey,” He says, frowning a little. Steve won’t look at him, embarrassed for whatever reason. “Come here.” He asks, and Steve dutifully sets his cup down and snaps his sketchbook closed before scooching over to sit near Bucky. He throws an arm around his shoulders and manhandles him around, a little so that he’s sitting up against Bucky’s chest.

“Mean what, baby?” Bucky asks again.

Steve shrugs, and then sighs. He turns to look at him. “That we should retire.”

Bucky blinks and then thinks about it. He could do without shipping out every couple of days, he’s getting old, after all. They both are, technically, but Steve wears it better. Probably because he did all his sleeping in one go. Even then, Bucky’s a year older, so he has well earned the right to complain, thank you very much.

“Yeah.” He says, and it surprises both of them. Steve turns to look at him, eyes wide, mouth half caught on a smile like he’s not sure he should yet. “You?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, I think… I think I did.” He says, and then a smile curls onto his face. Bucky laughs at him, for good measure, and Steve kisses him. “I miss you, you know.”

“Aw, babe,” Bucky teases, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder and hugging him close.

“Oh, Lord.” Steve chuckles and tries to squirm away, but it’s half-hearted, and Bucky’s got too good of a grip on him for it to work. “You miss me?”

“Course I fucking miss you,” Bucky says, honest, and Steve surprises him by grabbing him by the chin and kissing him. The angle is a little weird, but it doesn’t matter.

“So what now, huh?” Steve asks, and Bucky shrugs.

“Sit on the porch,” Bucky suggests, and Steve snorts.

“We ain’t got a porch.”

“I’ll get you a house with a porch that wraps all the way around it, like in that movie you made me watch,” Bucky says, and Steve laughs.

“The Notebook?”

“Sure.” Bucky says, not sure himself of the name but he does know that the end made him get a little teary-eyed, and Steve full-on cried, like snot-bubble cried, and they didn't let go of each other for the rest of the day. Not a very comedic romantic comedy.

“Yeah, and what else?" Steve asks, still half-joking. "Could we get a dog?"

Bucky thinks about it, thinks about how somewhere in the middle of Europe they found a stray litter of puppies, how Steve carried three of them zipped in the front of his jacket until they found the nearest inhabited town, how he tried to hide how upset he really was when they had to leave. Bucky takes a good long look at him, how there's still a light dusting of blush on his cheeks, and puts a hand on his face.

“Whatever you want, doll.” Bucky says, and he means it.

[ninacarstairss]

PARABATAI WEEK — day 6, underrated/fanon parabatai @carstairgray

i’m broken, torn apart, shattered and a couple more adjectives because of tftsa and it falls perfectly on the parabatai week so here are some simon x george parabatai headcanon

they place their parabatai runes on the back of their shoulders to symbolize they’ll always have each other’s back.

after the ceremony they go back to the new york institute and the rest of the gang surprises them with a party to celebrate.

simon places a stuffed rat on george’s bed before he shows him his new room, in memory of their days at the academy. the rat also has a tiny collar with “jon cartwright xxxv” engraved on it.

george jumps on the nearest chair when he sees it and his academy nightmares come back to him as simon is doubled over laughing near the door.

once the initial fear of having to deal with rats even at the institute passes, george keeps the stuffed animal and he adores it, it reminds him of their time at the academy, how he and simon met and became the brothers they are now.

they start having training sessions with jace and alec and they always end up on the ground with jace and alec triumphant over them but they put up quite a fight when fighting together.

they also like to train a lot with izzy and clary but that works way less for their skills because izzy and simon end up making out somewhere when one of them pins the other on the floor and clary and george just leave the room and go get a coffee before they can see something they won’t be able to forget. alec still talks about his nightmares regarding the time he walked in on simon and izzy in idris.

george gets to know the gang better and they all love him, but simon is especially happy when he notices him bonding a lot with izzy and clary and when he sees alec starting to trust him fully. jace ends up telling george so many stories about the first time he met simon and how he was when he first entered the shadow world, including the being-turned-into-a-rat part — george’s favorite ever since the academy — and that’s when simon knows jace really likes him too.

simon keeps schooling george in pop culture, movies, comics and the history of his band when he was a mundane and he drags george around the city in all the best places to find comics and the best film. soon enough george is making star wars references on a daily basis. though, he’ll never stop mocking simon about all the names his band went through, especially when he reveals the ones he though about during the academy that had to do with rats and other weird creatures, or grey eggs.

george often leaves to visit his family in scotland and he always takes simon with him. his parents love him and they always welcome him as a son. george couldn’t be happier and simon feels at home. he misses seeing his family every day, but he learned that for every loss there’s something to gain and this new part of a home is his own new piece of happiness.

once, though, the whole gang tagged along. george talked about the green fields and the sheep of scotland so much that they wanted to see for themselves. it’s a wild vacation and, between a hike and a tour of the nearby cities, jace gets not-so-gracefully swept off his feet by a running sheep and it’s a sight they’ll never forget or let him live down.

they have annual dinners with the group for the academy. no matter how far they’re all located from each other, they get a portal and meet in idris at least once a year and visit the muddy fields where scarsbury had them running and doing push-ups for as long as it took to kill them. beatriz and julie have also become a great pair of parabatai and jon manages not to be too obnoxious for one night a year.

simon also schooled george in the art of eating take out every day for basically all meals and told him to gently refuse every single thing that leaves the pan when it’s izzy cooking as soon as he stepped foot into the institute. surprisingly enough izzy and george find in each other some really horrible cooks who get along a lot and think they cook fantastic food while burning half the kitchen every single time they get close to a burner. simon’s desperate and he’s most likely going to loose his eyebrows in a kitchen fire soon enough. or worse, he might actually have to eat the stuff they cook one of these days. (credits to @icycoolslushie for the idea on this one)

when sizzy get married simon chooses george to be his suggenes and george cries his eyes out because his brother is so grown up and he’s getting married

once clary and simon convince the gang to celebrate halloween and they organize a halloween party at the institute for all their friends. george is the first to agree and he’s so excited. he and simon are planning matching costumes and decide to go as avatar characters — but with more covering clothes on, simon is stoic about this and george agrees it’s probably best not to risk finding themselves in the middle of a fight with a halloween night demon wearing only that little cloth around their hips — and they also kick it up a notch by dying their hair blue. except that they buy the wrong kind of dye and when the next day they wash their hair to get the colour off, it doesn’t go away. izzy and clary have to fix their mess with brown dye.

they are those friend that always do the craziest things you see on the internet and end up with the most aesthetic photos, like george in the middle of a parking lot with flashing lights surrounding him, sitting in a shopping cart and laughing, or simon naturally posing with his bow and arrow in front of a fantastic landscape and they become snapchat famous for these pics. izzy, alec and jace are pretty confused by this snapchat famous thing.

when simon moved in at the institute after the academy he installed a playstation in his room and most nights george is there with him, playing at 3am with snacks of all kinds surrounding them. izzy joins too sometimes but she’s not great at those games and has smashed a couple of joysticks after loosing multiple times, while clary kicks both their asses when she pops in for a game.

one night george entered simon’s room for a 3am game and instead found him with izzy, both of them half naked and in the middle of some sort of role play where izzy was calling simon “lord montgomery”. he never lets simon live that down and brings the name up in the most inappropriate moments — such as clave meetings — making simon choke on air every time. after that, though, george is very careful to knock.

simon’s pansexual and he’s a little afraid to come out to george at first, but he soon realizes he knows george and he wouldn’t turn his back on him, he wouldn’t leave. so when he does tell him he’s shaking slightly but he’s also happy and george clearly is too, he scoops simon into a tight hug and tells him he’s incredibly proud of him and reassures him he loves him no matter what, they’re brothers no matter what.

they’re not big on celebrations of birthdays or mundane holidays in general, but they do like to keep the traditions alive. both of them have been raised with no knowledge of the shadow world and they were observant of some religious and mundane holidays that shadowhunter don’t celebrate. so they like getting christmas gifts for everyone or organize parties for new year’s. they celebrate hanukah too and share other little traditions from their childhoods, like george’s family tradition of sheep’s wool-covered sweets and chocolates to find instead of eggs for easter or simon’s family tradition of taking a two day trip around spring to see the changing season and enjoy some free time, even if the trip is to the nearest town. they’re small traditions sometimes, but they like to keep the memories alive.

george becomes really good with max after that first encounter and the offer of raising him in his and simon’s drawer. he and simon often volunteer to babysit him, and rafe too afterwards, and they obviously use as bedtime stories the plot of star wars or comics, which the kids absolutely love.

sometimes when he’s stressed or tired george goes full on scottish and also switches to gaelic at times and simon is just there looking at him, torn between wanting to giggle at his usually contained behavior now unchecked and wanting to hug him and confort him. he always goes with the second, but he does love to hear george speak gaelic.

after the time at the academy when george was leading the mission to go after the faerie fruit vendors where simon got sucked into faerie he’s incredibly protective of simon in battle — or just all the time, actually. he’s thrown himself in front of simon more times than simon can count and he loves this kind of care, because of course he does the same whenever george is in danger, but it also makes him sad a lot because he knows george still feels guilty about that mission, even if nothing bad really happened, and he would do anything to make sure nothing similar ever happened again.

tag list @cordaisya @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @surrounded-by-exquisite-clutter @stxr-thxif @icycoolslushie @writeforjordelia @gabtapia @fair-childd @clarys-heosphoros @shadowhuntingdemigod (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[sugar-petals]

Baekhyun Doms You: Ending Up Laughing

↳⎡NOTE.⎦thought this’d be an interesting concept & a different side to smut: what if you try things out and it’s both not your thing? w/ a humorous twist and subby bf moments sprinkled in 😄

♡  words. 4k

+ tags ⚠️ pwp hc, bondage, throatfucking, graphic, cum play, unsafe/clumsy practice: do not recreate, degradation, biting, masochist bbh, domme!reader switches unsuccessfully, whips, hair-pulling

imagine that. a wide-eyed baekhyun pacing and tiptoeing in front of your toy shelf, trying to pick a riding crop he fancies. it takes five minutes and several ‘uhh, ohh’ confused puppy noises until he’s able to decide which one he’s taking. 

...literally even if he knows exactly which one does what. you’ve used all of them on him. 

meanwhile, you take three seconds flat to pull out one that fits your mood and proceed to edge the living shit out of him. yes, without literal further ado. teasing his dick and marking his thighs and doing all kinds of delicious things. 

he’s still going back and forth in his head without having even started out. cutely tapping and swaying from one foot to the other. 

it’s like he’s back to school. priceless.

what’s even more hilarious: baekhyun practices random mean facial expressions while trying to decide. he doesn’t seem to be sure what character he’s going for. it feels like he’s rehearsing for a concert or photoshoot, even. absolutely fascinating to watch. 

i mean he’s absolutely photogenic no doubt about that but

you’re sitting on the bed waiting naked like okay is this gonna be william shakespeare deluxe or what is kyoong channelling over there

“um... i think i got it! this one, okay? i’m ready!”

finally he walks over, strutting with his nose in the air and his eyes glaring, muscles tense, a mysterious bad boy charm about him, whip ready to sting, lips tight and punitive...

....and hits his pinky toe on the bed

oh the pain

great master baekhyun flops headfirst into the sheets processing the existential cruelty of bedpost pinewood and needs head pats to recover

lots of head pats

at least twenty of them

so many head pats

more time passes until kyoong is back in character i guess

you probably could have listened to exo’s whole discography in the meantime

and knitted a rug for taemin’s new flat

anyway

baekhyun tries to act very confidently finally getting into it 

adopting a sharp ‘hmph’ kind of tone 

endlessly teasing your back and thighs with the riding crop

so far so good sir pinky toe

but he just goes on and on

you could actually crochet a pair of socks for chen’s daughter now that you think about it

it’s you who has to tell him to get to the point and it’s clear he’s more nervous than he pretends to show

to be fair he’s not the only one

you try to get yourself mentally ready but you find yourself giving him actual orders and even correcting his stance five times cuz he’s so wobbly on the mattress like a pupper indeed

baekhyun mumbles to himself and has a hard time fully implementing the advice on posture but tries to aim well regardless. it seems to work at first

but tragically

he ends up with a miss, hitting his own thigh rather than your ass and moans out loud

now you’re the one confused because you were waiting for the whip to come down

but nope it went elsewhere did it

you wonder how he managed to do all that furious fencing in the obsession mv with an aim like that

looks like he’s so submissive, he straight up whips himself

taking matters into his own hands is he. subs these days.

baekhyun keeps on being wobbly on the bed and looks like he ran a marathon already

may i remind you that this guy does 3-hour long concerts and can practice throughout an entire night

... you both agree to immediately scratch that completely after his next flailing strike sends the riding crop flying into his unsuspecting, non-consenting plushie collection

animal cruelty

moving on

you figure that a change of location might be a good idea

baekhyun sits you down on a chair and bashfully stores away the yeeted whip

he vows to never use a riding crop again already and his teddy bears are thankful for it

now the whole plushie village and whole china knows how you don’t do it

next up is rope

what could possibly go wrong

he practiced wrist bondage on his own ankles for five days straight, you really prepared a lot of things to test out together today 

and he’s seen you tie him up over and over and over

but whatever it is that he manages to install on your arms 

looks like a piece of very experimental modern art that just sold for half a million at sotheby’s

what’s supposed to be a column tie is nothing but a mere... ball

chaotic like baekhyun’s personality. not surprising at all

wait that rhymed

anyhow

even alexander the great couldn’t have cut this gordian knot of a tangly masterpiece

ironically: while baekhyun’s roughly grabbing your chin for an intense kiss... the rope casually falls apart harder than the soviet union in 1991 my loves, you ain’t ready

baekhyun takes ages to notice while he’s teasing and kissing you and ends up sweating bullets when he realizes that the sublime art fell to pieces.

sorry comrade 

the fantasy knots and artistic freedom increases even more when it comes to putting a collar and leash on you

and his guy is supposed to be a dog owner? mongryong, instruct your man

baekhyun is a flustered mess trying to fasten it on you even if he tries very hard to be concentrated

maybe it’s because you’re watching him with literal hawk eyes checking every move (...hoping he learned something from you oh my). you’re not really melting into your role either, huh. the only thing melting is your pussy because baekhyun is acting so embarrassed which is the actual turn-on

if that doesn’t give you away

the leash comes off in two minutes time after baekhyun miraculously ties his own hands together with it

how the fuck did that happen

how do you even manage to do that

eager are we

after whipping his own thigh, self-domination 2.0 i guess

so whipping and bondage are off the programme 

this has been the most chaotic and hazardous attempt at topping in the history of sm entertainment

and they’re literally called s and m

...humiliation is next

when you planned your session you both figured hey he’s tested and tried by exo’s lively debate culture and he might be able to pull that off

and there are no props involved so he’ll have an easy time right

life is an illusion

you find out he can’t pronounce degrading names clearly because he keeps on stuttering them. which in return makes baekhyun crack up. 

carrying on the joke, you correct him every time. 

“i want you to repeat after me: stupid, slutty, bitch.”

it ends up as you doing what you always do 

teaching and training him while baekhyun either shyly or brattily obliges. you don’t even notice how you’re doing it but from the outside, it’s blatantly obvious.

because your brain is still feeling in domme mode, you also find yourself saying the usual things to him without thinking, even when he grabs you and gives orders. “now bend over! i’m gonna fuck your brains out.” — “okay, cutie!” 

which causes baekhyun’s mean face to collapse and he snap out of his command tone immediately, snorting because it’s the last thing he expected

he tries to carry on by punishing you with an actual mouth gag and a harness he can hold onto while fucking you from behind, i mean your pussy is already wet why not

guess what’s gonna ensue

wearing a harness feels kind of strange and new so you wiggle back and forth and all over the place. like what is this, what’s happening. baekhyun’s dick is going into all kinds of directions my friends, the amusement park carousel surely inspired this fucking style right here. 

and wearing a gag — there’s a way different person who needs to have this in his chatty mouth. 

kai and kyungsoo’s dream would come true and yet you’re the one gagged 

something ain’t right

if you’re honest. you’re feeling so weird being on the other end of punishment tonight and not being able to give him any directions. your dom brain is worrying he’s all left to his own devices trying to drive that confused dick home left and right and above and below and diagonal and crosswise. 

the fuck

your poor guts my god

what’s worse: his stamina is gonna sneak up behind him and tap on his shoulder like... bro that’s enough pounding for a whole month please spare these balls from deflating please do not break this device

to which your pussy agrees in unison

how are you gonna love your bub day in day out if you’re that sore

there’s nothing more frustrating than being sore and horny with byun baekhyun at your disposal

or a knocked out boyfriend trying to generate at least a sprinkle of semen after getting completely emptied in one go

probably sleeping for three days straight

alright so the harness and gag come off fast oh dear baekhyun clears those away in a heartbeat

that’s another point off the list 

the more you know

carousel cringe dicking down type of dominance... bizarre, disorderly, totally erratic, not on the agenda, worst rated on bing 

comrade baekhyun keeps on apologizing for making things so messy even if he tries and tries

you’re both so puzzled because you’re used to something so different and need a water chugging pause

baekhyun hasn’t sweated this hard since doing the MAMA choreography

and your pussy has never had to provide this much lubrication at once

where on earth is both of your usual stamina what happened

if a type of sex exhausts you fast and even baekhyun’s balls are suddenly moody you just know you’re wired in the opposite way

safe to say you’re better at giving and baekhyun is better at taking

leave the multidirectional powerfucking to kai or something

and being orderly to xiumin

another rug could have been knitted my friends 

moving on dot org

so, you both figure to take it easier and try to go with something he usually does in passing. you know, turning a typical baekhyun habit into something you can try out casually in bed so he can tease you.

that one should work out right?

proceed: teeth action. you seated, him positioning himself above you. after your approval baekhyun pulls your hair back to expose your neck — so he can deliciously bite into it (or so was the plan). 

reality: his hand gets tangled up completely. 

while he’s busy nibbling and giggling about like a lil’ bunny chomping at a carrot that turns out to be extremely ticklish herself. 

in fact, you start squeaking out a wonky high pitch, startling baekhyun’s fine musical ear to the bone by the obvious atonality. did she just try to outsing my vocal range with a creaking whistle note? 

mariah carey would cancel you on twitter over this one

that’s how you turn a vicious, possessive bite into an eternal meme

every time either of you go for a neck kiss, you end up imitating each other. baekhyun has immortalized himself as a nervous chomping bunny and you as the vocalist anti-christ

lord have mercy

you miss your old sex life already and it’s only been two hours

cause you see... if baekhyun gives you the chance to bite him? he needs a set of long sleeves, scarves, and an extra soft pillow to sit down on for the next two days

like, no mercy bitch

you get right down to business and ravage him and do it properly until he cums in his pants

sure, the way he uses his tongue now is definitely kinda hot mind you

baekhyun is always good with his singing equipment that doesn’t suddenly change aye

and you keep your eyes closed

but with time you notice that he starts drooling and whimpering. baekhyun’s wet mouth is out there betraying him, huh.

same with your body. your reactions give you away, body language just won’t lie. you have a damn hard time staying still. you wanna do something, you wanna touch and guide baekhyun all over.

and vice versa baekhyun keeps on glitching and doing the same thing he really became a living tumblr gif now

this whole session is just so confusing and laced with all these moments of awkwardness it’s really telling you something about yourself and mister pinky toe’s ideal dynamic

baekhyun can’t even get himself to even lightly slap you properly. and when he does, his delicate hands are just so cute. it’s as if legolas came along, scented in jasmine, elegant and fabulous like it’s a l’oreal commercial

he immediately looks concerned after he manages to do it cleanly and you admit it wasn’t really that exciting a feeling yourself. it felt more like, “um ouch, and?”

needless to say, you’re weirded out if anything, baekhyun smacking and dragging you around as a cold-as-ice dom is just a strange thing to do for both of you 

like even exo’s wolf era fashion was more coherent than this carrot fuckery

and those were some of the most intense turtlenecks ever 

is there really nothing dominant baekhyun can pull off. come on he’s the genius idol 

actually 

there’s something that does work out for once

because no rule without exceptions indeed

because hey, you can learn something anyway, it’s the whole point of you going through a list of things to try as a couple

baekhyun is good at doing the more hardcore, faster kind of fingering. who would have thought, totally surprising, revolutionary i know. but that’s where you’re both agreeing hey, there’s some untapped potential you can use for the steamier evenings you have going. 

cuz wow, he can get you off with flying colors. 

...only to succumb to a malfunctioning bobohu wrist 

even baekhyun’s boner for your legs in latex isn’t that stiff

it’s another pause until his hand loosens up again

this poor man just can’t win

and if you’re asking oi hard domming isn’t the only thing you can do

baekhyun trying to summon his inner soft dom: surprise, same old tale. here we go again.

your boyfriend thinks he generally looks way too puppy-like to be your big ole buff daddy taking care of you. oversized sweater, fluffy hair and all. 

you say to him well, it’s not that doms can’t wear casual things. but it’s true that you have to feel your role and find yourself believable. regardless of your looks, in fact. 

unless your partner really enjoys you dressing up as some kind of dominant hyper-archetype? looking the part is relatively unimportant if you’re absolutely made for dominance you say

pretty eye-opening moment for him

in your roleplay, he caresses and kisses you to the point, he can approach and lead you to do this or that position, don’t be mistaken. and he’s good at making presents, he’s indulging you perfectly well and actually likes doing it. but... it still ends up being more vanilla than not a few hours in. the d/s is out the door almost automatically the longer you do it.

at the end, it leaves you with a feeling of “but err, what now? give the maid outfit to charity?” 

baekhyun rubs his neck in search for something else to do, both of you staring at each other with expressions blanker than kyungsoo when a prancing chanyeol is acting up.

how did the quote go again. if you scramble for inspiration, let it be?

it’s exactly that situation when baekhyun soft doms. he can hold you tight and do his thing for a while, but the chemistry of your roles is dwindling into a question mark.

in fact. there’s an uneasy silence as if great mother suho was sitting right beside you critiquing baekhyun’s sugar daddy skills

baekhyun is rich like a motherfucker and can’t even call you ‘my innocent lil’ baby girl’ without looking like he just learned a first grade tonguetwister by heart

you did play your parts with less cracking up, but you clearly tell him that there’s still something strangely clueless and “ah, awkward” (baekhyun’s verdict in response, verbatim) in between the two of you. 

when you take care of baekhyun and tuck him in, you hardly run out of ideas. it just goes on and on. even when you played through an entire scene, you both come up with things to extend the scenario because it’s so much fun. you make him a hot chocolate, massage his feet, brush his hair, do some extra light bondage with a silk ribbon around his ankles to make him feel pretty, feed him pizza, have him cuddle up in your lap, pinch his ass, and do some rimming if he’s feeling a bit hornier. 

the spoiling is nice at the start, but there’s something missing. you want to lead his hands and really treat him, and do it all the time, and baekhyun really finds himself craving it as well. 

baekhyun soft domming quickly turns into — well just normal loving makeouts and gestures. you kiss and touch, there’s nothing hierarchical about it, nothing mega juicy or exciting.

you just don’t get into the groove, you know. there’s nothing particular happening if you try to get into those roles. it doesn’t titillate both of you for an extended period of time, it doesn’t make you curious for more. it’s like... shrug. what about it. 

when you usually dominate, you know something hits home when you think about it all day. baekhyun screaming and crying with his legs twitching pops up whenever you close your freaking eyes goddamn.

you make a note to observe whether you’re going about your daily business thinking about how you could be his innocent good girl. following his every whim, making big eyes at him or something. 

result: more shaky, ruined baekhyun moaning his soul out in the highest of notes and leaking cum everywhere from getting choked and his face sat on. 

daddy baekhyun has simply not crossed your mind. in fact, poor guy no chance to fit in there from the get-go. his particularly whorish, extra subby counterpart is all over your brain cells with his tongue out. and you’re very tempted to grab it between your thumb and index and spit in his mouth for some very good measure. maybe cum in it as well.

um. so there’s that. the more you know.

baekhyun figures as much himself and you try the other side of the equation. oh, oh. here comes hard dom baekhyun.

who gets you on your knees and starts a wild deepthroat session while calling you names. that’s all well and good... nope. your gag reflex decides to yeet some weird coughing facial expressions and reflex cock bites at poor baekhyun who doesn’t know what’s happening. to finish him off completely, you sneeze while having a hiccup and his dick slips out. 

... you both safeword at the same time.

that cleanup has scarred you both for life. what the everloving fuck. no more impulse throatfucking in this pure christian household, then. 

you’ll stick to lazy, twirling, indulgent blowjobs and the usual ruined orgasms for him — the actually planned ones, jesus christ.

like seriously. you invented a whole new language with those confused gargling noises and that wasn’t french, it was advanced level klingon. baekhyun repeats asking if you’re okay and you’re still stuck realizing oh hell, that was not pretty. off the bucket list, you like sucking him off but this style just doesn’t come natural to you. 

the popsicles you could train yourself with are usually gone from the freezer within a day after getting the groceries. baekhyun is wholeheartedly addicted to them. 

he loves cheating on his diet since you told him his fully cheeks are your emotional support squish and kiss pillows, so.

baekhyun rightfully insists he’s better at eating pussy the wild way in the first place — and that you have no business choking on his dick like you’re on hot ones eating the world’s spiciest whatever is trending now.

or actually... baekhyun’s dick can’t be compared to a chili pepper if we’re doing a choking analogy alright. that just doesn’t fit his promotion concept. cinnamon stick is more like it.

ever saw one of these terrible cinnamon spoon videos where reckless people try to defeat god by— anyway, you’ve seen them. that’s how you looked like trying to get your mouth fucked. i think god would actually be defeated by how far away from divine elegance that was and you’re so sorry for subjecting baekhyun to this artless display. 

cinnamon is still best used in small doses. say, for garnishing a creamy cake or pie y’know. 

anyway. you dished up the most butchered attempt at sexy gagging in history and so, baekhyun will preach for days how he’s the one chosen by fate to push down seven big fat inches of your strap still half asleep without even blinking. 

... and that his world-class operatic breath control would probably enable him to bury his face in your pussy on mount everest. baekhyun knows that every domme would sell her soul to get a sub as skilled with breathing as him.

...and that he has the official copyright for giving quality slobbery oral with quality smudged tears. as he will demonstrate to you almost daily from then on. king of messy head and going stupid with the tongue acrobatics. ugh, the noises are amazing, too. give him a grammy for his oral sounds.

gotta leave the heavy-duty work to the experts innit.

at dinner, he also poutingly brags how he can make his spit run out of his nose while he’s sucking himself through your entire dildo collection. and blow spit bubbles. and snort his own semen off his thighs and let it drop off his tongue if he’s in a particularly slutty mood. or a creampie. jeez, baekhyun, the wolf of wallstreet is strong in him. you literally have to stop him from showing off because “hey boy, i already know! i’ve seen it last week bro it was good!”

needless to say he’s talking in essays all day because he wants things go back to normal and he doesn’t have to ask twice.

for real, your candy man with the cinnamon stick has been suffering from the love bites and has to retire his cock for two days from the bruising. 

mind you. the pain he can deal with. that ain’t the problem. by all means, man. he’s a fucking masochist. 

it’s actually more like... submissive you has deactivated his boner and he can’t help it. it’s not you that makes him limp, it’s more like, the klingon choking and the ton of mishaps that just don’t sit right. 

baekhyun feels bad about not doing well enough to make both of you have a good time as well which is lowkey heartbreaking. you have to cheer him up with ‘now repeat after me: stupid, slutty bitch’ jokes to make him chuckle at least a bit.

cuz you gotta understand, baekhyun is very ambitious to develop his talents in all areas of life. if there’s a skill he gets stuck with and he can’t work with his potential, that’s so unusual to him.

and you say man, imagine if you were some kind of uber-talented dom. that’d still not make me sneeze any less.

if you dominate him, it feels easy to do. nothing can really ruin the mood, not even when the lube runs out (baekhyun drools enough to make anything slippery okay). 

except maybe when xiumin rings on landline because he left his favorite fluffy sweater in the subway and needs to vent about it. my god that’s such a tear-jerking story i’m close to sobbing. this shit could kill literally any boner.

or when your hand cramps up after shoving your fingers down his throat and in his ass for like half an hour which should be ranked first as the saddest anime betrayal of all time but it’s justifiable and you had a lot of fun beforehand.

in other words. only the things outside of your control tend to mess with your femdom business. in and of itself, nothing can kill your vibe except a dying battery obviously. 

whereas you trying submission oddly spoils the atmosphere from the inside out and provides a free cringe compilation. like without even doing much, it happens automatically. 

baekhyun relishes in dramatically recounting how you both looked like true clowns attempting a rendition of overexpensive, extra tangly contemporary art bondage. hell, not even employed clowns, completely retired ones, struggling to regain their tightrope tricks from summer 1912 when harry houdini was still hot shit in town. 

you say oh god, that wasn’t even worth a retired clown’s skillset, clowns work damn hard man. you’d be hardpressed to find any circus artist capable of cracking a whip onto themselves baekhyun-style and moaning out loud because it was this good. seriously. that was one for the books.

if baekhyun tried to set foot in some willy-nilly maledom porn, he’d be capable of firing himself on the first day. 

at the end, you just have a good laugh, man. you agree — hey, this ain’t it, but it’s good to know at least. tried and tested, been there, done that. self-whipping and carrot-nibbling and blowjob hiccups.

if you’re both so hopeless and living up to the challenge managed to upset poor mariah carey instead of giving you a hot and steamy time, you very well know where you belong. that’s a good feeling. assuring and a confidence boost for your skills. it makes up for all the clumsiness actually. 

exactly because the try-out part was an entire disaster, domming baekhyun will be even more fun, you can’t see it becoming anywhere near boring. it never really was, but now you know where your strong suits are even more so. and — what to avoid, anyway. 

no more unsafe practice and teddy whipping under this roof my friend

and something to incorporate more often which is baekhyun unleashing his very creative, pianoesque fingering skills on you.

you have lots of anecdotes to rile each other up as well. or, at least, tease another a bit. your high note was too legendary not to be remembered.

baekhyun will use all of these things against you in a positive way if you get what i mean. he’ll say how you being so strangely vocal made him realize just how commanding and compelling your sexy time voice is when you tell him how to kneel, how to kiss, how to revere.

and you teasing him how clumsy a dom he is makes baekhyun more self-assured in his subbing abilities. he knows for a fact you’ve not once roasted him about how well he can use his pretty mouth. cuz it’s the real deal. sloppy, skilled, and eager to please. he’s damn right about that.

hitting his toes has ruined baekhyun’s whole career as a dom and he was mad at first but he did realize that beside the clumsiness, subbing just suits him well as a principle

your experience gives you even more anticipation for all the sex you will have in the future. 

you already knew what you both liked. you know it even more now, it’s underlined, it’s a big relieved yes. no more cringey “daddy, daddy, choke me please!” worship. time to make his day and sit on baekhyun’s perfect face to fuck the shit out of it. 

or you know, actually land a whip on his juicy boyfriend thighs and listen to those heavenly loud reactions in a dead-on pitch (he usually moans in C minor).

long story short and cinnamon sticks aside. it’s even more fun now. you just love your cute subby boy just as he is. he doesn’t have to try to be anything else or step up his game. he’s so ideal just doing what he does like a real angel.

more subby stuff: m.list + ao3

↳⎡FINAL NOTE⎦i love writing crack lmao i hope you were rolling on the floor like i did 😂 write me your favorite part in the comments so we can laugh again and buy me a ko-fi if you wanna 👍

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (2)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Oh man. My dudes. I received so much love and support and excited feedback on the first chapter that I thought my heart was going to explode. Y’all are so wonderful. Keep it up. <3

*****

Luckily, Matty lets them take the Phoenix jet to Houston. Flying commercial would make today even more tortuous than it already promises to be, albeit for a different reason. 

No matter how hard he tries to distract himself, Mac cannot stop staring at the diamond ring on Riley’s finger. The princess cut gem is stunning and ridiculously large, but it suits her cover as a lucrative arms dealer. A white gold wedding band sits below it. Riley left her usual assortment of rings at home, and Mac can’t help but think her long, delicate fingers look bare without them. 

He tears his eyes away from the rings again and again, both on the plane and while driving to the safe house. Riley drives with just her left hand, her right elbow resting on the center console. Mac likes driving, but there’s something relaxing about riding shotgun while Riley drives instead. He’s never been able to put a finger on it, but the sense of ease washes over him all the same. Admiring the way sunlight illuminates her engagement ring is simply a bonus. 

He doesn’t let himself imagine what he might give her, in an alternate future where she reciprocates his feelings and one day wants to marry him. 

Harley obediently lays in the backseat, staring out the windshield. She's been on her best behavior the entire twenty four hours Mac's known her, ever the professional. 

Which puts her completely at odds with Mac and Riley's shenanigans—cracking jokes, dancing on the plane and in the car, doing purposefully bad impersonations of Russ. These are the best parts of going on ops alone with Riley. They can let loose in a way they just couldn’t when anyone else other than Bozer was around. Everyone else is professional all the time; Mac and Riley are only professional when they have to be. 

Riley taps the steering wheel in time to the classic rock song on the radio. “What do you want for dinner?” 

“Dinner? We haven’t even had lunch yet!” 

“True.” Riley chuckles. “Can you tell I’m hungry?” 

Mac gives her a sly look. “Not at all.” 

They settle on Texas barbecue for lunch on their way to the safe house, because that’s what Jack would choose if he was here. If only the old man could see them now, all grown up and getting sent to take down terrorists unsupervised. 

Seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, Mac raises his brisket sandwich in a toast to Jack, in whatever afterlife he found himself in. Hopefully it’s the one with an endless supply of good barbecue. 

“Oh man, Jack would’ve loved this,” Riley says through a mouthful of food. She sneaks Harley a piece of brisket. 

Mac smiles. “Yeah, he would’ve.” 

It’s easier, now, to talk about him. At first, Mac hadn’t been sure he could ever get to a point where talking about Jack didn’t make him want to hit something or just curl up and sob. 

But here he is, on the other side. Him and Riley both. 

Their safe house is another twenty minutes away from the restaurant, in a nice neighborhood full of trees and children playing on the sidewalks. It’s so much greener than a California neighborhood could ever dream of being. There’s even a park across the street from their apartment complex. It’s exactly the sort of place a young, affluent couple would want to live. 

Riley parks in their designated space, and the pair ascend the stairs to apartment number 202. Outside of the car, they don’t dare use each other’s real names until they’re sure the apartment is free of bugs. The place was furnished earlier that week by other Phoenix agents, but Mac and Riley do a thorough sweep of every room just in case. 

It’s a nice apartment. Wood flooring, granite countertops, matching cabinets throughout. There are pictures on the walls, but Mac doesn’t bother to stop and check what they are. 

Riley clears the space from back to front, so Mac does the opposite. He clears the kitchen first, frowning at the absence of any sort of food, before moving on to the living room. 

Mac stops dead in his tracks when he enters the bedroom. The singular bedroom. With a singular, queen-sized bed. 

Oh no. This is not happening. 

Mac shakes his head and rubs his eyes, hoping his mind is just playing tricks on him and that there’s actually two beds. Or a whole other room he missed before. 

The one and only bed seems to mock him. 

He walks back out, finding Riley already sitting at the kitchen table, turning on her laptop. “Uhh, Riles? There’s only—”

“One bed,” she finishes, not bothering to look up. “I know.” 

Oh god. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not with his dignity still intact. Mac stammers, “I’ll, uhh, sleep on the couch. You can have it.”

That gets Riley’s attention. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going to be here for weeks. You’ll hurt your back sleeping on the couch that long. Just sleep with me.” Riley’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just said. “In the bed,” she quickly adds. 

Mac ducks his head to hide his blush. 

“What are you working on?” he asks in a feeble attempt to distract himself from their sleeping situation. Because it will definitely be a situation if Mac’s not careful. 

“Connecting to the Wi-Fi,” Riley says in a slow, “What else would I be doing?” sort of way. 

“Right.” Mac silently curses himself. Of course that’s what she’s doing. “Anyway, I’m assuming you already know this, since you probably opened the fridge too, but we have no food.” 

“I saw.” She’s multitasking again, manicured fingers flying faster across her keyboard than Mac can keep track of. “Why don’t you unload our bags while I finish this, and then we can go.” 

Unable to help feeling like he’s been dismissed, Mac complies without protest. 

Soon they’re back in the car, headed to the grocery store, and the whole thing feels ridiculously domestic. Mac’s never been a fan of grocery shopping, but Riley makes it almost...fun. For starters, she’s not methodical about it the way Bozer and Desi are. But more than that, getting to spend time with her doing mundane, non-work stuff is a nice reminder that their relationship is more than just the job. They’re friends too. 

Mac wishes there is a way to tell her all that without it sounding weird. 

They come home, unload the groceries, and take Harley for a long walk, and that feels easy too. It feels normal, even though literally nothing about this situation is normal, and Mac already knows he’ll miss this when the op is over. 

But normalcy ends when Riley beckons Mac to sit beside her at the kitchen table, and together they write an advertisement for their arms dealing business. Once they’re satisfied with it, Riley sends it off into the dark web, and there’s nothing to do but wait, like a spider after spinning her web. 

The waiting is the worst part. 

Mac is contemplating taking Harley for a second walk when Riley asks, “Want to help me make dinner?” He takes one look at her hands on her hips and the “you don’t actually have a choice” look on her face and knows he’ll be left to fend for himself if he doesn’t help now. Mac learned that the hard way back when he and Riley lived together. 

“Sure.” 

They work in comfortable silence. Mac chops vegetables and grates cheese for their quesadillas while Riley does the actual cooking part. Even though they are doing separate tasks, Mac is acutely aware of every move Riley makes, no matter how insignificant. Flexing her long, thin fingers around a knife. Itching the back of her calf with her foot. Dancing in place, spatula in hand, while she waits to flip the quesadillas sizzling in the pan. 

Mac smiles softly. Her random little dances are cute. He’s noticed them more and more since realizing he has feelings for her, but if Mac is being honest, he’s always thought the dances are cute. 

Riley hisses as she peeks under the tortilla, checking to see if it’s browned yet. 

“You good?” Mac asks, frowning. 

“Yeah, I touched the pan by accident.” Riley runs her thumb under cold water. 

Her laptop dings while they eat. Wide-eyed, Mac glances at Riley. That was fast. She grimaces before sliding the laptop closer and checking the notification. 

“Is it them?” he asks tentatively. That’s the hard part about this; in order for their business to look more legit, they had to just put an ad out and hope for a response, rather than target the terrorist organization directly. 

Riley exhales. “No, it’s not them. It’s someone else.” 

Swallowing another bite of quesadilla, Mac says, “I don’t know whether I’m relieved or if that’s worse.” 

“Same.” 

There are no more responses that night.

*****

Mac wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in—on his side, facing outward, with as much space between him and Riley as possible. When they crawled into bed the night before, Riley did the same. 

Harley spent the night on the couch. 

She’s a very guarded dog, Mac is slowly realizing. Tolerating, but not trusting. Mac supposes he would be like that too if he was a dog and he got stuck with a bunch of strangers after his human suddenly disappeared one day. 

He makes coffee, feeds Harley breakfast, and takes a shower, all before Riley loses her battle with the snooze button and finally gets out of bed. While she showers, Mac takes Harley for a walk in hopes that the cool, spring air will ease the anxiety that took root the moment Riley released their ad into the void. 

It doesn’t. 

Dark, puffy clouds loom on the horizon, and the few birds Mac hears shriek at each other in warning. It looks like a storm is coming. 

When Mac returns, he’s met with a grim expression, one he understands without Riley uttering a single word. “They answered,” she confirms. 

“What did they say?” Unclipping Harley’s leash, Mac moves to stand behind Riley, resting his hands on the back of her chair. The scent of her shampoo tickles his nose, and he forces himself to ignore it and focus on what Riley’s saying. 

“They want to meet. Today.” 

“Time or place?” 

Riley points at a small box on her screen. “Just an address.” 

“What’s there?” 

“A warehouse,” Riley says. “Owned by the same shell corporation other Phoenix techs already tied to the organization.” 

“Not very clandestine, are they?” 

“No, they’re not.” Riley looks up at him, her head bumping his sternum, and butterflies ricochet inside Mac’s rib cage. There’s something soft in Riley’s expression that makes Mac want to kiss her. “Are you ready for this?” 

Mac sighs. “As ready as I ever am. Are you?” 

“Yeah,” she says, but her confidence falters. Without thinking, Mac squeezes her shoulders in reassurance before walking away to change.

*****

The warehouse is located on the edge of the city, in an industrial area that has certainly seen better days. Even from a distance, Mac can see cobwebs decorating the warehouse windows and rust creeping up the roller doors. Aside from Riley, there’s not another soul in sight. 

As per the directions the organization sent after Riley confirmed the meeting, Mac parks on the south side of the building, near the only functional-looking door. He doesn’t look at Riley as they get out of the car, instead desperately trying not to cringe at the cold, heavy weight of the gun holstered at his side, hidden beneath his jacket. 

High-end arms dealers couldn’t walk around unarmed, unfortunately. 

Although her hands are occupied with holding Harley’s leash, there’s a gun hidden beneath Riley’s suit jacket as well. Mac’s stomach churns. The second Riley emerged from their bedroom earlier wearing that jet black suit, she was a different person. She was wholly Genevieve Turner, and no matter how hard Mac tried, he couldn’t find even a single trace of his best friend beneath the icy exterior. 

Locking their SUV, Mac smooths the lapels of his own black suit and slips into character as well. 

The dark clouds Mac noticed earlier are directly overhead now. Mac has never believed in omens the way Jack did, but he can’t help hearing Jack’s voice in his head, warning him that black clouds are a sign of certain doom. Or something like that. 

There’s no one inside the warehouse, at least as far as Mac can see. “Hello?” he calls, the word echoing slightly in the open space. Aside from a few random wooden crates, the room is empty. 

A door slams, and then an older man comes into view. He’s probably in his late fifties, with graying hair and a beer belly his shirt doesn’t quite cover. The man swaggers like he owns the place, although Mac doubts the leader of a terrorist cell would deign to play tour guide. 

No doubt there’s a quip on the edge of Riley’s tongue about entitled white men, but she doesn’t share it. 

The man extends a hand to Mac in introduction. “Conrad.” His sneer doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Mac frowns, keeping his hands at his sides. “Last name?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

What he’s about to say might screw everything up before it even starts, but Mac says it anyway. In his gut, he knows it’s the right call. “If it doesn’t matter, then we’re done here. My wife and I have no interest in entering a business relationship with someone too inexperienced to understand that trust is integral to any transaction.” Mac spins on his heel and strides toward the door, Riley falling into step beside him. 

“Wait!” the man calls. They pause, turning around slowly. “Deacon. Conrad Deacon.” The man seems to know he’s already lost. Good. “Welcome to the cause.” He gestures for Mac and Riley to follow him. 

Mac stands his ground. In his peripheral, Riley stands utterly still, the perfect mask of cool, collected neutrality. Almost bored, even. It’s scary how easily she becomes her cover. 

“Come on now,” Conrad says, taking a single step forward. “We have much to discuss.” 

That’s enough of the power play, Mac thinks, but just as he’s about to give in and follow Conrad, Riley utters a single, sharp command that rings through the room. “Sit.” 

Harley obeys. 

Riley’s lips curve in a cruel, taunting smile. “Then enlighten us.” Mac suppresses a shiver; he’s seen this side of Riley plenty of times before, watched her hone it over the years, but it’s still unnerving. Admittedly, it’s also kind of hot. 

Conrad ignores her entirely. He croons, “Why don’t we start with your names?” It’s phrased like a question. It sounds like a question, but Mac sees the demand for what it really is. 

Mac gestures to Riley. “This is my wife, Genevieve Turner. And my name is James.” His father’s name tastes like ash on Mac’s tongue. 

“And the dog?” 

“Killer,” Riley sneers. Mac isn’t sure if she’s kidding or not. 

Again, Conrad doesn’t acknowledge her. “James, why don’t I give you the tour and explain what we do here.” 

“We’ll go on the tour, but we are not here to join your cause.” It takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower to maintain his neutral tone. “All we care about is what you’d like us to provide and how much you’ll pay for it.” 

Conrad doesn’t hide his displeasure. “Fine. Follow me.” 

Mac and Riley are led through the open warehouse. The layout is straightforward and nearly impossible to get lost in. But after Conrad shows them a room full of rifles—countless hung on the walls, floor to ceiling, the rest in half-open crates—Mac finds himself counting the number of wooden shipping crates scattered around the building. 

He doesn’t like his final number. 

Arming terrorists doesn’t sit well with Mac, even if it serves a purpose. It makes him sick, knowing he will likely be indirectly responsible for their next attack. 

Especially because those crates are no doubt full of the kind of rifles designed to kill people most effectively. The ones hanging on the wall are military grade, probably cutting-edge. Desi would know exactly what they are and how they work. 

Trusting Riley is paying close attention, Mac only half listens to Conrad babble about the cause. But then the older man says something that stops Mac in his tracks. “Our country is being run into the ground by whiny do-nothings,” Conrad asserts, “who waste our money and spew garbage that some people matter more than others. Well, you know what? Hardworking, everyday Americans matter. But no,” he scoffs, “those damn liberals don’t like it when we remind them of the truth. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off.” 

The ground sways under Mac’s feet. He knows these people believe this, read it in Matty’s extensive briefing notes. But it’s another thing entirely to hear someone say it to his face. 

He can only imagine what Riley must be thinking. 

Clearing his throat, Mac tries to redirect the conversation. “Like I said, we don’t care about your cause. Just tell us what you’re looking for, and we’ll be on our way.” 

Conrad eyes him suspiciously, but complies. “We’re looking for something a little more than what you can get at the store, you know?” 

Mac doesn’t, not exactly. He’ll have to ask Desi later. “I do,” he lies. 

“Good. Here’s what we’re willing to pay for it.” He hands Mac a folded piece of paper, and Mac does a double take when he reads the number. There are a lot of zeroes. “And as a show of good faith, we’d like it delivered tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” Riley splutters. Mac feels it then, the broiling rage slipping through a crack in her persona. He needs to get her out of there. Now. Not just to preserve the op, but for Riley’s wellbeing. Some audacity Matty has making Riley play nice with men like this. 

Mac slides his hands into his pockets, using the movement as a cover to brush his knuckles against Riley’s fist. I know. I’m here. I’m sorry. 

For the first time, Conrad addresses Riley directly. “Yes. Tomorrow. Unless that’s something you can’t do?” 

“We can do that,” she replies calmly, and the difference between her reactions is like night and day. As quickly as that crack appeared, it was gone. 

“Excellent.” Conrad takes another step toward Riley, offering to shake hands, but Harley’s low, menacing growl keeps him at bay. Rewarding the dog with a quick scratch on the head, Riley closes the gap and shakes Conrad’s still-outstretched hand. 

“It’s a deal,” she says. Following suit, Mac shakes Conrad’s hand as well and follows Riley out the door, neither of them uttering another word. 

Mac drives. One look at Riley’s trembling fist decides for him. 

By the time the warehouse disappears from the rearview mirror, he can’t take the silence anymore. “Hey,” Mac starts, but Riley cuts him off with a hand. 

“Not until we’re inside.” 

They hit every single red light between the warehouse and the apartment, and Mac anxiously taps the steering wheel. Raindrops land on the windshield. They’re small at first, but soon the drops are large and numerous enough to refract the streetlights, and Mac struggles to see where he’s going. He adjusts the windshield wipers over and over, never landing on the right speed. 

Too slow. Too fast. Too slow. Too fast. 

Mac settles on a setting that’s slightly too fast, and the squeak of rubber on glass nearly matches his heart thudding in his chest. 

Riley stares straight ahead, unmoving, unblinking. Mac wants to reach out, to let a gentle touch say what he verbally can’t, but the road is slick enough to make him keep two hands on the wheel. We’re almost there, he reassures himself. 

By the time he parks, it’s pouring hard enough that the ten second walk from the car to the door soaks them to the bone. Riley’s hands shake as she unlocks the apartment door. 

Once they’re inside and Mac unclips Harley’s leash, Riley turns to him with pained, pleading eyes. His heart breaking all over again, Mac draws her in for a long, tight hug. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. 

Mac just cradles the back of her head and sways gently, wishing he could fix the world for her. 

Neither pulls away, even when Riley suddenly says, “If Conrad was smart, he would’ve had someone bug our car while he paraded us around the warehouse. I don’t think he’s actually smart enough to do that, but we should check first, just in case.” 

Mac curses himself for not thinking of that. “Good call.” He rubs Riley’s back, hoping the gesture is soothing. “I hate the way he treated you,” he snarls. “Like you weren’t even worth acknowledging.” 

“Welcome to being a woman.” 

It was more than that. They both know it. But neither say it.

*****

“You need what?” Matty shrieks over the phone. 

Mac winces. “Sorry.” He’d called Desi first, to ask what kind of guns Conrad meant with his innuendo, and received a verbal lashing for not asking any follow-up questions. But she made her best guess anyway. Now on the phone with Matty, it doesn’t take even a single brain cell to know that her reaction will be much, much worse. 

“He wants us to prove ourselves,” Riley adds. “As a show of good faith.” The words come out dripping in venom, but their boss doesn’t comment. Mac takes a second to study her; Riley changed into leggings and an oversized flannel shirt, and there are still remnants of dark makeup smudges under her eyes. Now, she’s sitting on the kitchen counter with her knees tucked into her chest. It’s weird to see her take up so little space. 

Matty sighs, deeply and loudly in a way conveys her annoyance more than words ever could. “Fine. A few weeks ago, Border Control confiscated a huge shipment of smuggled guns near El Paso, so I’ll see if we can borrow those. But next time, Blondie, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He doesn’t correct Matty in that it was Riley who made the deal. That would only add fuel to the fire. 

“Thank you,” he says, and Matty hangs up. Mac runs a hand through his damp hair. “That went well.” Riley’s lips twitch, but it’s not the amused reaction he hopes for. He’s at a complete loss regarding what to say to her, so Mac gently asks, “What can I do?” 

Riley slides off the counter, and Mac reaches for her automatically, although he doesn’t actually touch her; his hand hovers just beside Riley’s elbow. She doesn’t shrink away, but she makes no move to touch him either. 

“Help me put him and everyone like him in a deep, dark hole where they can’t hurt anybody. And then just…” she trails off, taking a deep breath. “Keep being you.” 

With that, she walks away, leaving Mac alone in the kitchen, racking his brain to figure out what that last part means.

*****

Later that night, Mac tosses and turns, replaying Conrad’s words. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off. They seem off-kilter, like what the man said and what he really meant are misaligned. Mac sighs, rubbing his face. 

Another bolt of lightning illuminates the bedroom, and Mac automatically counts the seconds until he hears thunder rumbling in the distance. The storm is moving closer. 

Beside him, Riley lies on her back with her eyes closed, although her breathing is too light for her to be asleep. Mac wonders if her mind is just as loud and chaotic as his. 

For Riley’s sake, he hopes it’s not.

*****

Sleep never finds Mac. 

The storm rages all through the night, but by the time dawn arrives, the thunder and wind dissipate, leaving just the steady downpour. The clouds are dark enough that Mac can hardly tell the sun even bothered to rise this morning. 

When Riley’s alarm goes off, it’s like the shrill tone is mocking Mac for being awake. Riley groans as she shuts it off. 

“Morning,” he mumbles. His throat hurts. He needs water. “Did you sleep well?”

Another groan. “No.” 

“At least you slept,” Mac mutters.

Riley rolls onto her side, drawing one of the extra pillows into her chest. “Do you always toss and turn that much?”

It was his fault, he realizes, that she didn’t sleep. Mac suddenly feels guilty. “Sorry. And no.” 

He expects Riley to be upset at being kept awake, but she isn’t. With a look that just might be understanding, she softly asks, “What were you thinking about?” 

Mac can’t say that his thoughts whip around his mind like raindrops in last night’s storm. Not without sounding crazy, at least. So instead he says, “I don’t even know. I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Me too,” Riley admits. “It feels off.” Her eyes are heavy, and Mac’s had enough early mornings with Riley to know it’s not just the lack of sleep weighing her down. 

“Go back to sleep. I can handle the delivery.” 

Riley rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you do that by yourself.” 

He doesn’t argue. “Okay.” 

A moment passes between them. It’s been happening more and more lately—holding eye contact a little too long, sharing smirks when no one else is looking, stealing moments where it’s just the two of them and nothing else matters. Each one gives him hope that there’s not a wall between them, but instead, a door. Someone just has to be brave enough to open it. 

Sitting up, Riley quipps, “Just don’t make me regret letting you sleep in the bed with me.” Mac snorts. 

“No promises.”

.

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[whump-town]

Prof of Law Aaron Hotchner

Warning for violence, stabbing, nightmares, an anxiety attack, and drugs (the prescribed kind)

Aaron Hotchner is a retired Federal Persecutor-- just an AU where Hotch is a law professor for fun and angst!!

Bouncing Jack on his hip, Hotch smiles as he stands over Haley’s shoulder. He pulls his hand back from the cake, wincing when Haley smacks his hand away. She’s a perfectionist and having the smear of his finger through this cake is going to heavily disrupt her otherwise perfect spreading. 

“Oh come on,” he pouts, he turns his body so she can see Jack. “We just want a little,” he attempts. Rousing his son, he jogs the boy up a little more in his arms. “Tell her Jack, tell Mommy, say only a little.” Despite being very much daddy’s little boy, Jack smirks and turns his head away. Giggling and babbling nonsense into his father’s shoulder. Wiping his face on Hotch’s shirt. 

Hotch plays along. “See,” he offers, “just like he said. We only want just a little bit.” 

Haley rolls her eyes, smiling at his antics. She reaches around the cake to the mostly empty tub the icing had come in. “Go,” she instructs, handing it to him. “Get out of my kitchen Aaron Hotchner before I beat you with this spoon.” She searches across the counter for the wooden spoon she’d used to keep the green beans on the oven stirred. 

He smiles and kisses her head, avoiding the spoon when she tries to jab at his side with it. 

As he’s walking away, egging Jack on in his triumph of obtaining the icing, there’s a knock at the door. He’s still talking to the baby, so stepping away from the cake she moves so she can see down the hall from the kitchen. To see if he’s getting the door. “Aaron--”

He steps into the hall and winks at her, “I’ve got the door.” He curses softly, pulling his hand away from Jack’s mouth. He’s swiped a finger into the container before coming to the door. Jack mercilessly chumps down on his fingers and regardless of his absent teeth it still hurts. 

“Hey--” 

Hotch lands flat on his back. The world a dark haze and a strange eerily painful chill in his side. Pain like he’s never felt before. Touching his side, he lifts his head off of the floor and stairs in shock at his hand. The dark, thick crimson of his blood. So much blood. 

“Aaron!? Oh my God!”

 Choking, Hotch tries to move. Mouth open and back arching, he kicks out blindly. The pain creating a black haze around his vision. Coughing and turning his head as he wheezes around the obstruction in his airway, his own blood, he can hear more gunshots.  Jack screams, wailing, and sobbing on in distress. There is one final gunshot and the crying stops. The house falls silent. 

“Jack,” he tries to move but his arms won’t hold his weight. “Jack,” he calls again, panic rising. “Come on, buddy,” he cries. “Where--” blinking the blood from his eyes he looks up and into the face of someone he hasn’t seen in a decade. George Foyet. 

Leaning down, Foyet places his foot against Hotch’s throat. He presses down just enough to cut off the rest of his oxygen, smiling when Hotch uselessly tries to push him away. “Remember me, Aaron? Aaron? Aaron! Aaron--”

“Aaron! Easy, easy.”

He’s in bed. His grey t-shirt slick with his sweat and practically glued to his back. He’s safe. Looking around he can slowly start to piece together where he is. Dave’s house. Well, his house too but it’s Dave’s house.

“Woah,” perched on the corner of his bed is David Rossi. As silly as the older man looks in his matching pajama set (from probably the eighties) Hotch can’t spare the breath to do much more than lean into his embrace. “You’re alright,” Dave assures him, rubbing his back and cupping the back of his head. “Just breath for me kid,” Dave keeps Hotch pulled close, glad that he’s not trying to wrangle away just yet.

“Dave?” Hotch can feel himself shaking, his eyes pinched shut. He’s terrified, honestly. The nightmare had felt so real. So much like the real day. George Foyet had come into his home and-- “I need… Jack?” Hotch pulls away just enough to catch his old mentor’s eyes. Waiting to find the truth there. Because he can’t remember. His brain is split. Had he buried his son that day too? Is Jack… Is Jack dead too?

Dave smiles, it’s sad but it’s not mournful. “He’s sleeping in his bed,” Dave promises. “I checked on him before I came in here.”

Hotch can feel the hitch in his chest as he lets out a relieved breath. “He’s okay?” Hotch asks, he needs the clarification.

Dave nods, “perfectly content.” That’s the easy part about being a baby when the world goes to shit. Jack will never know his mother but he’ll also never have to wake, like his father, in cold sweats shaking from nightmares. Terrified and alone.

“Okay,” Hotch pulls back, scooting back in the bed so he can cross his legs and rest his head in his hands.

Watching him with an air of concern Dave sighs. He looks at the clock and shakes his head. It’s four in the morning and there’s no way that Aaron’s going back to sleep now. “You good,” he asks. As much as he’d like to stick around and make sure Hotch gets back to sleep… that’s futile.

For the last few years, they’ve been working on getting Aaron through the night. Whether it’s nightmares or insomnia he can’t seem to get a break.

Hotch nods with his face covered by his hands.

Dave stands and looks back over his shoulder one more time. “Aaron?���

“Hmm?”

“Try and get some more sleep, alright? You can’t afford to lose anymore.”

Hotch doesn’t look up but hums in agreeance. Already he can feel the low throb at the back of his skull. If he starts drinking coffee now maybe he’ll make it through his first few classes without passing out. In the vending machines outside his office, they sell these little bottles of five-hour energy.

He’s a little too old to go chugging those but he’s not going to go canceling his class over a little missed sleep.

It’s been a long time since he even thought about consuming this much coffee.

By six a.m. he’s consumed four cups.

“How long have you been up?”

Hotch blinks sluggishly despite the warm fifth mug of coffee in his hands. “Hmm,” he asks, rubbing at his eyes.

Directing Jack down the hall, hand over the boy’s head like a claw, Dave looks Hotch down. His posture is awful, bent over himself, with dark rings under his eyes. “I asked how many cups of coffee you’ve had but I’m afraid I don’t want the answer.” Pushing Jack along, the boy scurries into the kitchen. Buzzing past his father to make a B line for the milk and cereal.

“Don’t spill the milk,” Hotch mumbles, watching Jack fumble with the carton.

It’s been nearly three years since George Foyet’s attack.

The man was released from prison for “good behavior” as young, white men tend to get off. It seemed as if the two young women he’d killed were brought to justice in the ten years he spent in prison. How easy it must have been for the justice system to see the opportunity in a man like him, while ignoring the ones he’d taken. A misguided youth and a tragic backstory only adding to their empathy.

The atrocities he’d committed were not of his own accord, of course not. It’s always so much easier to blame those young women or perhaps his mother. If those girls had not been out so late at night, if they hadn’t worn skirts and frilly tops then he would have never noticed them to begin with. If his birth mother had loved him more...

None of that matters now.

They considered Geroge Foyet “cured” and released him back into society.

Where his first stop was to a library, where he found the address of the man who put in prison. Federal Prosecutor Aaron Hotchner.

This is the part the dreams never get right. Foyet didn’t have a gun. He had a knife. A single pocket knife that he stole from a junkie in an alley. It had been late and Haley had answered the door. Hotch hadn’t even heard her cry out for him. He’d been wrangling Jack out of the tub, the little boy a mess of squirming limbs and very upset with his father for making him take a bath.

They’d been in Jack’s room when Foyet found them.

He’d had his back turned to the door, shushing the crying baby as best as he could while trying to get a diaper around his kicking legs. The first stab had been so quick… by the third he was on his knees and unable to do anything besides keep falling.

On that floor, George Foyet stabbed him six more times. Jack had screamed and cried the entire time. He’d been too young to understand, not even a full year old, but he knew something wasn’t right.

In the dreams, Foyet always kills Jack too. The harsh, overwhelming sound of silence those little cries silenced. There one moment and gone the very next.

He can’t remember much of what happened.

Foyet had moved to Jack, picking the boy up and shushing him. Hotch had watched, immobilized and too weak to even beg for his son to be spared. So he’d watched, choking on his blood, and slowly losing his battle with consciousness as Foyet settled down in the rocking chair in the corner of the room and rocked his son. Soothed him.

A neighbor would walk by and see Haley laying in the hall. The blood…

Hotch had died on the operating table, a fact that Dave would later inform him of. He can’t remember recovery all that well. Clouded with drugs and grief, he… There was once, he remembers this clearly because it had only been a short time after he’d woken up, they’d brought Jack in. Dave and the nurses had been trying everything to calm him but he wasn’t sleeping or eating. He’d cry and cry and cry until he made himself puke or passed out.

The moment they placed Jack in Hotch’s arms, the baby had stilled. His pained cries dying to whimpers as he looked up at his father.

Hotch had been propped up with pillows. Too weak to even lift his own head but they’d stacked pillows around his sides and arms. He couldn’t fight the exhaustion weighing his body down but he clung to Jack. Waking from his sleep in a panic each time, watching the room’s other occupants in case they might try to take Jack from him.

After all the time he’d been nearly unresponsive to them, if having Jack around would keep his heart rate up and his oxygen intake steadily improving no one was going to complain. Several times he woke to his gown being moved so they could place Jack against him. Skin on skin therapy does wonders on humans of all ages. Recovery had been easier with Jack there. The baby stripped to his diaper and nestled against his chest. Little fingers grasping onto him.

It’s been three years and George Foyet follows him everywhere he goes.

“Professor?”

He makes his own lesson plans. He knows which cases come up when. “Who--” he makes the mistake of looking at the screen and his heart stills in his chest. Swallowing thickly around the obstruction in his throat, he looks down to the floor forcing himself to take in a steadying breath. “Who, um, can explain why this case can’t be dismissed on the grounds of Gamble v United States?”

He doesn’t need to call on a student. There’s only about ten kids in the class and it's a ridiculously easy question.

“It’s two separate accounts,” someone speaks up. “Same thing, sure, same crime even but that’s not how double jeopardy works. Besides, you’d want to look more into United States v Felix. Um--” The hard sound of one of the automatically folding chairs shutting in on itself sounds out through the room. “Sir?”

“Sir, are you okay?”

Hotch grips the edge of the desk tighter, his knuckles whitening under the strain. “I’m--” his knees buckle but he forces his weight to his arms. Squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth. “I’m okay,” he manages.

A student, he can’t tell which one, cautiously approaches his side. “Sir,” he calls. The student, Carter one of his more extroverted and adventurous students, squats down by his side, hand on his back just above his belt. “Not to alarm you,” Carter says, “but I think you’re having an anxiety attack. Do you have any medicine? Is there something we can do?”

Hotch squeezes his eyes shut, trying to work against the tears rapidly falling down his cheek. “My--” he grabs frantically for his tie. The knot against his throat tightening steadily to a noose until he can’t stand it. His hands are too weak to pull the material away but graciously, his useless fingers are pushed aside. Carter undoes the knot quickly and Hotch is suddenly very thankful that Carter’s pompous, cocky agenda brings a tie into his little aesthetic.

“In my office,” Hotch rasps, his hand twisted around his dress shirt. “It’s--” he sinks to the floor, head between his knees. “... a few,” he manages, “in my office.”

Carter turns over his shoulder. “Billy!”

Hotch looks up and watches Billy meagerly rise from where she’s called. Billy, while a great student, is riddled with social anxiety. Despite having taught the young woman all three years he’s been employed at the university she can’t meet his eye when they talk. And she always makes great haste in avoiding him. He’s never bothered to figure out if she’s got issues with authority, a problem with her father, or if she just hates him that much.

Carter turns back to Hotch, surprised by the startlingly vacant look in the man’s eyes. His eyes just watch Billy where she stands anxiously waiting to find out what awful thing she’s going to be asked to do.

“Sir,” Carter shakes Hotch a little. Smiling reassuringly when Hotch’s bloodshot eyes meet his. “I’m going to send Billy to get Professor Prentiss, is that okay? Billy is going to get the professor and we’re going to head to your office, alright?”

Hotch nods.

“Can-Can’t someone else go?”

Carter helps Hotch to his feet, graciously nodding his head to another student who slides under Hotch’s other arm. “No, Billy. Now go.”

Professor Prentiss is a notorious hardass. Her students love her but everyone else is terrified to even cross her path. She’s like a black cat, bound to be bad luck. It did not help Hotch’s already scary demeanor to befriend her. To spot the two of them coming across campus, Emily always professionally dressed in slacks and a dress shirt and Hotch in his standard suit and tie, they’d built a good rapport for being scarily mysterious.

Despite how frequently they could be spotted in the campus café laughing over a cup of coffee. Their human moments always outweigh their harsh ones. In fact, Emily Prentiss has only ever come down on a few students. The ones dumb enough to try and fool her. Hotch has never raised his voice to a student and is surprisingly lenient for a law professor or even just a professor in general.

For goodness sake, Emily stops to talk to the campus cats.

Hotch wears a little beanie with a red knot at the top Professor Garcia made him two Christmas’ ago and spends the spring semester chasing his son around the quad. (Garcia made him the beanie so she could recognize him easier in public. There are way too many tall men in suits around but the red little knot makes him easily detectable)

That’s not to say they’re still not intimidating.

“Pr-Professor Prentiss?”

Turning slowly from her chalkboard, Emily faces the weary voice. First of all, this is a senior advanced level Arabic class so there are only five students present and she knows each and everyone one of them. Well enough to know that whoever just called out her name is not one of her own. Nevermind they never break from Arabic during class time. Under her breath, in Arabic, Emily mumbles, “freshman.”

Yet, the young woman is dressed surprisingly professional.

“What is it,” Emily asks, crossing her arms. She pushes her glasses down her nose, moving the reading frame out of her sight. Looking down the length of her nose, raising an eyebrow at the girl. As if interrupting her class wasn’t bad enough, she’s not trying to waste instruction time on some undergraduate student roaming where she shouldn’t be.

The student steps in a little more, chest heaving, breathless, and looking anywhere but at Emily, stammers her way through an explanation. “Uh,” she wets her lips. “Um, Prof--Professor Hotchner he, um, he was-- he was taking us through, um, a criminal law case and he was…”

The half-amused smirk on Emily’s lips placed there in the humor of what she thought was going to be some silly mistake or a prank from a coworker is wiped away. Penelope has sent mischievous students her way in the past, to knock them down a few pegs or remind them who's in-charge here. Derek’s sent way too many kids over, a whole class once, instead of doing his job. It’s becoming very clear this is not a joke.

Tossing her glasses on her desk, she demands, “where is he?”

The girl takes two steps back, not liking Emily’s shift. “He, um, Carter took him to his office, ma’am. He--”

Emily turns to her students, “class is canceled. I’ll send you a text this afternoon to make up for class.” Then with a nod, takes off up the catwalk, shoes sounding sharply against the tile. “We’ll facetime!” Motioning the girls to follow, “you, with me. Let’s go.”

She sends Dave a text, nothing complex just “Aaron, SOS”.

Hotch’s office is down the same hall as his favorite auditorium to lecture in. She’d bullied him pretty hard upon finding this fact out. It sounded very, very nerdy. And it is. What kind of normal person has a favorite lecture hall? Let alone a favorite room? Just as promised, that’s where he is.

He’s on the floor, stripped of his jacket and his shirt thrown open to reveal his white-shirt. His head is in between his knees and a young man, Carter, Emily presumes, is struggling to open the orange bottle of Valium. People go broke buying the stuff from drug dealers and Hotch will refuse one up until he’s breathless and shaking.

“Get out.”

The boy stops, “what?”

Emily nods her head out the door, “both of you, out.”

They share a look but neither student puts up a fight.

Emily cracks the bottle open with a single twist, pouring a pill out into her hand. The only thing she has around to drink is what looks like either tea or coffee from (nothing him) days ago. He doesn’t use creamer but there’s still probably something toxic in their brewing. “Here,” she kneels down beside him.

He looks up, face broken out in sweat and cheeks flushed, and takes the pill from her palm.

“You okay,” she asks, rubbing his back. She watches her friend carefully, studying him.

He takes a deep breath and holds it, ticking the seconds away in his head. Nodding, he closes his eyes and hangs his head back limply between his knees. He lasts only a moment, eyes flying open she finds nothing but pure terror in his dark eyes.

“Hotch,” she calls, unsure if he’s even here with her right now. “Hotch, calm down. What’s going on?”

He shakes his head, “hard to breathe…” His hand comes to his shirt, gripping the white material tightly. “Can’t-- Can’t get enough… not enough air.”

She nods her head, sounds about right. “You’re okay,” she promises. “You’re completely safe right here with me, okay? We’re in your office and you’ve taken a Valium.”

He nods. Right. His office. He can feel the rough mug and smell the old books.

It’s hot. “Off,” he rasps, tugging harshly on his shirt. “Off. I want it--” Too hot and too tight and all over him and--

“Okay,” Emily stops his frantic movements, his hands tearing at his dress shirt. “Okay,” she grabs his left hand by the wrist, easily pulling the shirt off his shoulder and moving his arm out of the fabric. He’s already calming back down, sinking forward as she works his right arm out.

He’d been trapped. Hot and trapped and his brain isn’t working right.

“That’s better,” Emily whispers. She moves closer to him, sitting between his legs and hesitantly pulls him into a hug. He goes where he’s pulled, letting her guide his head to her shoulder.

He sniffles, unable to stop his tears. “He was there,” he whispers. “I saw him.”

She soothes him but she has no idea who or what he’s talking about it. All she knows is that three years ago Dave dragged Hotch here and had a look around. He’d been a mess then. Hair windswept or maybe just unkept and leaning heavily on a cane while Jack had circled them excitedly. She’d shaken his hand and greeted him because Dave is her friend; he'd introduced Aaron as an old friend. He’d looked haggard and disheveled but that hadn’t bothered Emily too much. He’d intrigued her.

Aaron started in an introductory course that fall. Predictably, Dave had allowed him into their trusted group of friends. He’d been removed, at first. Distant and didn’t speak much. Not that he speaks all that much now but it was so much worse back then. Whatever he’d needed that cane for, whatever had driven him from prosecution, whatever had made him a widower and single father that remained his secret. A part of him so guarded only Dave knew and, as she suspected, he would be the only one to ever know.

“Good Lord,” Dave appears in the doorway, shaking his head at the sight before him. “You look like hell.” He leans against the frame of the door, arms crossed. “You know,” he informs them casually. “The two of you have officially ruined your image around here. How’s anyone going to be afraid of you if they walk past this door and see the two of you cuddling on the floor?”

Emily scoffs but doesn’t move away. She keeps moving her hand up and down his back. His breathing has calmed back down but his heart is still racing. “Shut up,” she grumbles. “At least, my reputation isn't being a sleaze bag.”

Dave sucks his teeth, frowning at her. “I am not a sleaze bag,” he defends. He’s not. His reputation for sleeping with the faculty does preside him but it’s horribly honorable that he stays away from the students. They all know coworkers not upholding that standard.

“You okay,” Emily directs her attention back to Hotch. He squirms out of her hold, shakily forcing his feet back under his body and standing.

“Hey,” Garcia knocks on the door and squeezes in beside Rossi. “Everything okay in here?”

Hotch turns his body away from her, scrubbing his face with hands.

“Yeah,” Emily assures her with a smile. It’s obviously not the truth. Hotch is standing in his white undershirt, dress shirt and suit jacket on the floor. His tie not even on the same half of the room. There’s a pill bottle knocked over on his desk and his hair, from what can be seen from the back, is crazy. “We’re good, Pen.”

Garcia nods her head, skeptically. “Okay,” she smiles, eyeing Hotch. He glances over his shoulder at her and she can see his red rimmed eyes and wet face. It’s okay if he doesn’t trust her with this kind of stuff just yet. She understands. “I’ll see you guys at lunch?”

Hotch nods, “we’ll see you there.” His voice is surprisingly rough but she leaves without comment.

Emily reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “Why don’t you stay here, alright?” He’s still shaking and looks rather awful. “I’m going to send your class home. Take a nap or something, you look like a train wreck.”

Hotch just hums, lifting his his hands to his face. The feeling of his body is yet to return. His arms don’t even feel connected to his body. Rubbing his hands across his face he can hear Emily and Dave whispering behind him. 

“See you at lunch, Hotch.” Emily says as she steps out of the room. 

Leaving Dave and Hotch. 

“Are you ever going to talk about it?” Dave asks.

Hotch sighs but doesn’t turn to face the man.

“Come on,” Dave sighs. “It’s been years. If you don’t get it out, it’s going to kill you.” 

George Foyet going to kill Aaron. Maybe not today but it’s a matter of time. 

“Not now,” Hotch mumbles, turning his attention to his desk. He brushes the spilled pills into the bottle. Ignoring the careful way Dave regards him. He knows he has to eventually work out these stupid nightmares. It’s one thing to find himself trapped there in that house at night. It’s another when the nightmares work their way into the light. 

“One day then, hmm?”

Hotch freezes, his anxiety sky rockets just thinking about it. They’ll have to institutionalize him first. Drug him up and throw away the key before he finds the words to describe what happened that day. Mentally, he’s not even sure he’s strong enough to think about it for too long. 

Clearing his throat Hotch nods, “right.” He takes a deep breath. Lawyers are blood sucking liars, right? Well, he hopes this once Dave believes his bluff. “One day.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You're a worker at Ransom's country club and he takes your virginity, please? 💖

+Drabble request for randsom! He start to blackmail the reader into sleeping with him or he’ll let out her dirty little secret ( you can choose what ever that would be!)

requested by @bbyhoneybee-x

Plus Gratuity

Warning: noncon, thievery, blackmail

Your heart raced as you crept around the locker room. The first time was terrifying and almost paralysing but with each visit the guilt slowly faded. These men were so rich, they probably didn’t even notice the missing bills. They tipped well enough but not enough to stomach their errant hands and wandering eyes. They owed you more if you were going to pay your way through grad school on their perversion.

Sad almost how old men filled their midlife crises with golf and ogling women who weren’t their wives. Women who were much too young for them. How they spent the money which had once brought them pride and joy on a woman who would never do more than preen and give a fake laugh in hopes of another bill in her apron.

But you needed more and you weren’t about to beg for it. Your textbooks had infringed upon your rent and your grocery bill had sent your account into overdraft. The first time had been desperation, the second for your commute, until the profit was as much the thrill as the money. Oh, and your phone was cracked thanks to your sprint for the bus.

Harold Ballard's wallet was thick but you were disappointed to find only ones. Perhaps a post-golf visit to the strip club. Ted Lauren’s was a bit more flush and you trusted that a twenty would be unnoticed among the wad of fifties. You continued your rounds as you listened for any footsteps, any strain of the faucets, any clatter of the locker doors beside your own careful prying.

You eased the last locker closed and sighed. You tiptoed around to the exit just beside the showers. You grabbed the long metal handle but the door didn’t budge. You frowned and tried again. The little knob was broken and the flat face was centered with an impossible hole.

You shrugged and flitted back around and across the locker room. The other exit was much the same and there was only one other left; that which led into the pool. You’d have to hope no one noticed you sneaking through.

That door was locked too.

“You didn’t get the hundred in my shoe. Tucked up in the toe.” You turned at the voice which often had your blood cold.

Ransom was of the few younger members of the club and never had more than an arrogant sneer to offer for your troubles. He was a terrible tipper and a worse person.

“I don’t know what you mean,” You said.

“Don’t act so innocent,” He scoffed as he crossed his arms. “You’re pretty slick. Fast. Quiet. If not a little oblivious.”

“I don’t—”

“Hey, if I was you, I’d fleece these pricks for all they got. Gerry’s Rolex is a cool ten grand, even if it is as old as me.”

You stared at him. You were caught. The bile gathered in your chest and you reached into the shallow apron around your waist.

“I’ll put it all back,” You said softly.

“I don’t care. These assholes won’t even know it’s gone.” He smirked. “Unless… Unless someone tells them.”

“What do you want?” Your head pulsed.

“Oh, honey, don’t worry, I’ll add that hundred to your haul.”

He dropped his arms and his hands gripped his hips, his index fingers pressed to the smooth leather of his belt. He still wore his golf clothes, the white shirt tight enough that you could as good as see through it and his slacks sleekly cut so that he seemed even taller.

“What is it? New purse? Shoes? I always wondered what you looked like without that ridiculous apron.” He taunted.

“Tuition. Books. You know, because some of us weren’t handed a trust fund.” You snarled.

“Now, now, don’t be a bitch cause you got caught,” He warned. “I could be a real piece and tell the owner. I’m sure that tuition will be easier to pay without a job.”

You frowned and stayed quiet.

“You done for the day?”

“On break,” You answered.

“I can be quick,” He winked.

You drew your brows together. You didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

“You can have the money,” You offered weakly as he stepped forward.

“I have money,” He grabbed your arm before you could retreat. “You know that.”

“What are you--?”

“Stop wasting time,” He wrenched you toward him. He spun and shoved you into the locker room. “Not much I could want from you.”

He grabbed the waist of your pants, just below the string of your apron. He pushed you forward around the bench as you tried to dig your flats into the tile. You threw your hands up as he forced you against the lockers. He leaned his weight on you until you felt the metal of the door dip.

“Ransom—”

“Mr. Drysdale,” He grabbed the back of your neck. “We’ve never been that familiar.”

You shuddered as his fingers pushed beneath your pants. “Mr. Drysdale, I—please…”

“We don’t have time to waste,” His breath tickled your ear. “Do we?”

“Stop—I don’t—I can’t—Just tell Mr. Denakos. I’ll tell him myself—”

“Mmm, that’s no fun,” He ripped your pants down below your ass and wiggled his hips as he ground his crotch against you.

You whined as he slid his hand between your bodies and rubbed himself before tearing down your panties. You pushed against the locker and tried to wiggle out from his grasp.

“Please—”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Don’t act like you don’t want this.” He purred.

“No, no, I haven’t—”

You bit your lip as he dipped his hand along your ass and forced his fingers between your legs. He kicked his foot between yours and inched them apart. He pushed you harder against the locker and the breath rushed from your lungs.

He was rough as he felt around and teased your folds. You gulped as he slipped a finger into you. You were unprepared for the intrusion. You squeaked and he added another finger.

“Ah, st—ow,” You uttered.

“Come on, don’t act like such a precious little…” His voice trailed off as your body tensed and your nails scratched the metal. “No…”

“Please, stop,” You begged.

“Oh ho, this is gonna be even better,” He drew his fingers in and out of you. “Shit, you better get wet soon.”

“Mr--- Drysdale!” You exclaimed as he pushed until he was knuckle deep. “Ahhh.”

“Fuck it,” He pulled out harshly. “We don’t got time for this.”

The metal of his buckle jingled and tickled the top of your ass. He kept your feet apart with his as he pinned your shoulders with one arm. You felt the smooth tip of his cock as he bared it and pressed it to your ass.

“Ran—”

“No,” He snaked his arm around you and clapped his hand over your mouth. “What did I say?”

You mumbled into his hand as he bent his knees and poked between your legs. Your feet slipped slightly as he pressed his head along your entrance. He pushed until he was cradled by your. He brought his other hand away from his cock and grabbed your hip. He tilted your pelvis and you tried to turn your head away from his other hand. He slammed into you so that your chest was crushed against the locker.

You were on your tiptoes as you were stretched by his length. It hurt so immaculately that the corners of your eyes pricked. He jerked his hips, each time you struggled to keep your feet on the tile, each thrust crushed you further against the locker.

You whined into his palm as he clamped over your mouth and his other fingers curled around your hip and tangled in your apron. You strained around him and latched onto his wrist as you tried to ease the pain.

“A fucking virgin,” He hissed as he rutted against you. “Fucking thief.” He nuzzled your head. “Bet ya not even on anything, hmm?” He got faster and faster, driven by his own voice. “And I just went in bare. Oh, you feel fucking great. So tight.”

You slapped at his hand as your breath hitched and the pressure built in your pelvis.

“I’m gonna blow inside of you,” He whispered. “You like that, hmm? You gonna go out there and smile at those old men with my cum dripped out of you.”

You shook your head and his hand got tighter around your face. He thrust frantically and his grunts filled your ears. Your hips ached as he hammer into you and he withdrew his hand to slap the locked door beside you. He growled and you felt a sudden warmth. He slowed and finally stilled. Your walls were tender and sensitive.

“What time you done?” He asked as he pulled out and his cum leaked from you.

You quivered as he backed away and you barely kept on your feet as you stayed frozen against the metal.

“Well?” He sat heavily on the bench and huffed.

“Four-thirty,” You uttered as you turned slowly to face him. You were stunned as you couldn’t think of anything to do but pull up your panties and black pants.

[polaroid15]

With Great Power...

Chapter 4: With great power comes a great need to stand up to bullies

Summary: Peter stands between Flash and a bully. Turns out, they can be friends after all.

Read on Ao3 HERE

------

“Yo Penis Parker!”

Peter groans.

“Where’d you get that sweater? The trash, probably. Seems like your thing.”

From beside him, MJ stiffens. Then without missing a beat, flips up her middle finger. Peter would give anything to tell Flash that the sweater used to belong to Tony Stark, that he gave it to Peter personally after a rough night on patrol because he was Spider-Man.

Yeah, that would shut him up.

Instead he shrugs. “The trash, Timbuktu- whatever floats your boat man.”

Unpleased by his response, Flash crosses his arms in a show of dramatic flair. They’re standing at their lockers, the lunch bell having just rung, and it’s more than obvious that the results from their calc test last period has put him in a bad mood. Well, worse than normal anyways.

And when Flash is in a bad mood, Peter ends up paying for it.

“MIT?” he scoffs, narrowing his eyes at Peter’s chest. “As if you’d ever have a chance at being accepted there.”

“Unlike you?” MJ digs. “I sat behind you in Calc, dumbass. Looks like you could spend less of your time being an annoying idiot and more time hiding your face behind a book.”

Flash falters. MJ had hit him where it hurts and it shows. He opens his mouth to retaliate but before he can he’s being lifted up by the collar of his shirt and slammed into his locker. Students gasp and back away from the altercation, though lots pull out their phones. After the initial shock Peter recognizes Flash’s attacker as Jake Miller. He’s twice as big as Flash and three times as mean.

“What the hell Flash!” Jake yells. “You said those answers were legit! My dad is going to murder me!”

“They were! I don’t- I don’t know what happened!”

“I was supposed to ace that stupid test. This is your fault!” With another low noise of anger Jake pulls Flash away from the locker only to throw him back into it. This time, harder. Flash’s soft gasp of fear passes through Peter’s chest like cold water.

Damn it. Of all people, why did it have to be Flash?

“Hey!” Peter yells, stepping closer. He feels MJ’s hand close around his wrist. “Come on. Leave him alone man.”

Jake’s shoulders tense. He throws Flash on the ground where he lays and covers his heads with his hands. But Jake’s attention is turned on Peter. He smiles wickedly. “And what are you going to do about it? Flash is gonna get what’s coming to him.”

Slipping from MJ’s strong grip, Peter advances further. Where the hell are all the teachers? “It’s not his fault you’re too stupid to take a calc test.”

“What the hell did you just say?”

Curling his hands into fists instinctively, Peter raises his chin. The whispers around them are growing louder. From behind Jake, he sees Flash staring at him with awe and holding his shoulder like it hurts.

“I said you’re an idiot Jake. An idiot, a cheat, and a bully-”

His spider sense warns him of the incoming punch and it takes every particle of his self control to not move. Jake’s knuckles hit him square in the nose and he can’t help but gasp at the sharp pain. He’s been hit in the face before, sure, but never without his mask.

A bone snaps. Stars blossom up behind his eyes and he stumbles back, feeling warm blood leak down over his lips. MJ tries to catch him and they both end up on the floor with Jake above them, staring at his fist in shock.

“Not cool man,” Peter groans.

Mr. Harrington appears then, finally, and pales significantly at the scene. It doesn’t take long for him to click the pieces into place. “Jake, with me. MJ, help Peter to the nurse’s office.”

Some students cheer as Jake is marched away. Others send Peter unsympathetic looks. He feels MJ’s hands tighten around his biceps. “You okay?” she whispers.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Believe me, I’ve been through much worse-”

But when he stands a sudden rush of vertigo washes over him. He tips and almost falls, choking on his words, and two sets of hands reach to steady him. He expects the second to belong to Ned, but when he opens his eyes, it’s Flash.

“Parker!” he yelps, his cheeks flushed. “What the hell were you thinking?”

He’s too shocked and dizzy to push him away. “He was being a jerk.”

“So was I!”

“He was going to pulverize you.”

“I could’ve taken it.”

At this, MJ snorts loudly. “No you couldn’t.”

Ned skids to a stop beside them, his eyes wide. “Peter! Are you okay man? What do you need?”

Feeling some relief at having Ned by his side, Peter nods towards the end of the hall. “Bathroom.”

“What?” Flash stutters. “He needs to go to the nurse-”

But Ned and MJ are already helping him down the hall, parting swarms of their gossiping classmates like the Red Sea. Reluctantly Flash follows them, and Peter can’t help but notice how fast his heart is beating.

He tries to catch the falling blood in his hands but there’s too much of it to really spare the mess. He’ll feel bad for it later, but right now all he can think of is getting it to stop.

When they reach the bathroom Peter eases himself down on the toilet seat as MJ starts unrolling wads of paper towel. He presses it to his face and whines at the pressure. “This sucks,” he decides.

Ned shoots Flash a dark glare, to which Flash swallows heavily.

“Lean forward,” MJ instructs. “And pinch your nose here. It should help stop the bleeding.”

Peter obeys, a pulsing headache starting up behind his eyes. There’s blood in his mouth and on Tony’s MIT sweater, which really is more disappointing than the injury itself. Because bones heal, but man is it hard to get blood out of fabric.

“It’s not slowing down,” Flash says, shifting from foot to foot. From worry or awkwardness, Peter isn’t sure.

“Why are you here?” Peter asks.

To this, Flash deflects, a usual defiance crossing over his face. “Why didn’t you go to the nurse?”

Peter, Ned, and MJ share a significant look. Peter sighs. “It’s not that bad.”

“That’s absolute crap! There’s a literal puddle of blood underneath you right now! You’re acting like this is normal or something. As if you weren’t weird enough already-”

Ha, Peter thinks, if only you knew.

He would reply, expect he’s feeling increasing light headed. More blood falls against his tongue. Resisting the urge to spit it out, Peter lets it sit. He closes his eyes and feels Ned’s warm hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Mm? Yeah. Just give me a minute.”

They don’t just give him one. They give him ten. But even then the blood doesn’t slow. He urges his healing factor to kick in as he begins to seriously consider if Jake is human.

The blood at his feet grows. MJ and Flash start to argue. It makes his head spin. He almost misses the buzz of his phone in his pocket but manages to pull it out all the same, a smear of red appearing on his screen as he accepts the call.

“‘Lo?”

“Jesus, kid. What the hell is happening? I just got an alert from your watch that your blood pressure is dropping like crazy. Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

Eyes closing, he finds the energy to push out a humourless laugh. “Yep. At school. Don’ worry ‘bout me. Everything’s fine.”

“Then how do you explain your vitals?”

“Is that Mr. Stark?” Ned asks sharply, reaching for the device. Peter swats him away and nearly faints when it upsets his balance. Has his heart been beating this fast the whole time?

“Kid?”

In his weakness, Ned snatches the phone away and holds it up to his ear with determination. “Mr. Stark?”

Peter can still hear Tony’s responses, the worry in his voice increasing at Ned’s own apparent distress. “What’s going on Ned?”

“Peter got punched in the face. He broke his nose and is losing a lot of blood. I mean, a lot. Remember the Rhino? It’s like that. Way more than he should be.”

“Damn it. His healing isn’t doing anything about it?”

“Ned-” Peter moans.

“No. It just keeps getting worse-”

“Ned.”

“Christ. Okay, hang tight. I’ll be right there. Can you give the phone back to Peter?”

Peter grabs his phone back from Ned, narrowing his eyes as MJ switches out his paper towel. “Mr. Stark you don’t have to come-”

Flash stumbles where he stands. “What?”

“Of course I’m coming,” Tony snaps. He sounds angry, Peter thinks. “Look Pete. By what Ned says you’re losing a lot of blood. Try to stay awake until I get there okay?”

“It’s jus’ a nosebleed. I’m fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. And remember- no passing out!”

Peter is halfway through objecting before he realizes Tony has hung up the call. Exhausted and hurting and embarrassed, Peter throws his phone at the sinks. Flash edges towards it and picks it up, wiping off the blood with his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Already Peter feels his anger ebbing. He sighs, leaning his aching head against the cool metal of the stall. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Of course he does,” MJ says while Ned nods in solemn agreement.

Flash looks nervous, a characteristic that is decidedly very un-Flashlike. “They’re right. I’ve been a dick. And you still saved me from getting flattened by Jake.”

“He had it coming.”

“Maybe. But I’m still sorry.”

A thick silence floods the bathroom, interrupted only by the sound of Peter’s steadily dripping nose. Looking more earnest, Flash wrings his hands together. “I’m sorry Peter. And not just for this. For- for everything.”

Peter.

He smiles even though it makes his head spin. White spots are gradually eating away at his vision but he elects to ignore them. “It’s cool, Flash. I promise.”

“How touching,” MJ says.

Another wave of dizziness passes over Peter so strongly that he can’t see straight. He feels three sets of hands hold him up as he struggles to breathe in air through his mouth, the blood he had been keeping in dribbling out onto the floor.

“Oh my God!”

Tony.

His mentor’s swimming image suddenly appears as Peter dares to crack open an eye. He looks disheveled but alert with worry, his hands replacing Peter’s own at the bottom of his nose. “I said no passing out, remember? I really can’t leave you alone for three seconds-”

For some reason, Tony’s presence has Peter feeling weak. Because it’s safe. It’s over. “I got blood on the sweater you gave me,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What? Kid, shut up.”

“I really liked it. I’ll still wear it. Promise.”

Over Tony’s shoulder Peter sees Flash with his hands in his hair, chest heaving with unbelief. Despite everything, the look of shock on his face makes Peter smile.

“How’d this happen?”

MJ and Ned both look at Flash. Peter tries to open his mouth before Tony can notice but it’s too late. He stares at Flash with suspicion. “Well?”

“Um. Uh-”

MJ sighs in annoyance, crossing her arms. “Peter took a punch for Flash.”

Tony doesn’t look surprised by this. If anything, his expression softens. “Of course he did.”

“Was nothin’,” Peter insists. He’s not sure if he feels like throwing up or fainting. Maybe both. “That guy had it comin’. Jus’ like that mugger las’ Friday-”

“Okay!” Tony interjects loudly, patting him on the shoulder. “I think it’s time for us to head out. Feel up to a trip upstate?”

Peter can’t nod. He uses his free hand to give Tony a bloody thumbs up.

“God, kid. You’re a disaster.” Tony helps him stand and grunts when Peter falls heavily against his side. “A bloody disaster. Literally.”

“He’s a hero.”

Everyone looks at Flash in surprise, another wave of awkward silence following his words. Flash blushes fiercely but looks straight at Peter regardless. It feels like an apology, like understanding. Something warm in Peter’s chest distracts him from the throbbing pain in his face.

“Thanks Flash,” he says, surprised that he means it.

Because maybe, just maybe, they could be friends after all.

[ayellowcurtain]

prompt about Sander who accept a bet with his friends to win Robbe's heart and be his bf, along the way Sander is head over heels to Robbe but some times later Robbe found out about the bet.

“He’s chill, I don’t think it’ll be hard.” His friend says behind him, but Sander is already looking, thinking that boy was a lot more than chill.

“This is the stupidest idea you guys have ever had.” Sander looks back at his friends when he hears the worried tone, at how bothered Adi is by the joke. It’s a stupid, really bad idea, but Sander couldn’t say no to an excuse to get closer to that boy. Sander is sure he already saw that boy, Robbe, somewhere, but he can’t figure out where.

-

“Oh, shit, Sander…” Adi looks at him, but Sander is busier still watching the videos spreading like wildfire: him, kissing Robbe at that party on Friday and someone filming from afar, talking about how the first year boy fell in their trap, congratulating Sander.

“He’ll hate you forever, bro.” Sander holds his phone tighter, rewatching the stories a few times, trying to come up with an excuse, but nothing comes to his mind. Robbe isn’t replying to his texts so he already saw this.

“I have to go.”

-

Sander knocks on the door constantly, impatiently. Someone would just have to give him a chance to get in and explain. He’s in Robbe’s territory, and he knows everyone inside that flat probably hates him now, even Senne. They’ve been friends for a long time, but his friend now lives with Robbe, dates one of his closest friends and Sander has been around Senne and Robbe enough to see how much Senne cares about the younger boy and how Robbe looks up to him in a way Sander can’t understand.

He’s the one to finally open the door abruptly, looking at Sander like he’s about to kill him. He tries to close the door, but Sander puts his foot and hand against it.

“Senne, please, let me explain. Let me apologize to him, please.”

Senne opens the door a little, but stand in the space he created, “He doesn’t want to talk to you, bro.”

“Then he’ll just listen,” Senne stares at him, judging but considering the options. They’ve been friends forever, and that’s why Sander can get inside, with Senne closing the door right next to them.

“He’s feeling like shit. So you better have a good, solid excuse to give him right now.”

Sander nods his head to the little piece of advice and Senne points with his head to the direction Sander should go.

He stops in front of another closed door and takes a deep breath in and out, unsure of what to say now that they’re just a few meters apart. The video is not his fault, he didn’t know it existed until this morning, with Adi showing it to him. He was very clear with his friends the second he saw them after spending a whole weekend with Robbe after their first kiss, thinking they were hidden from everyone.

He told them the prank was over. He told them he liked spending time with Robbe, that’s why he ignored all their texts, and he would like to keep spending time with him, so his friends would just have to drop it, never mention ever again that Sander only made a move because he told them he would, sure that Robbe would like him if given the chance.

Sander opens the door carefully not to make a noise, and he gets inside, closing it just as carefully behind him, leaning against it when Robbe notices someone getting inside his bedroom uninvited, looking over his shoulder, closing his notebook on the table.

“What are you doing here?” Robbe doesn’t accuse, he sounds a lot calmer than Sander expected, but that doesn’t change how badly he fucked it up and how much he needs Robbe to understand he has nothing to do with that video.

“It’s not what you think. They wanted me to flirt with you, kiss you, but once at a party, and that was it. I’m still here, months later because I want to. They know this, I told them right after the weekend we spent together after our first kiss. I told them it was over, that I wanted to be with you. I don’t know why he filmed that and why he said what he said, I didn’t know. I was caught off guard.”

Robbe listens without interrupting him, pressing his mouth against his biceps, his hands still on his desk, not even bothering to turn and look at Sander, “Is this whole speech to make me feel bad for you or...?”

“No. No, Robbe. I was just...trying to say I’m so sorry, that I didn’t know you were even a subject still. I like you. I really like you, this wasn’t a prank for me.”

“It feels like one. I guess I would know, having the friends I have.”

Sander tries to take a few steps, holding his own hands, pinching the soft skin between his thumb and index finger, his heart beating so fast inside his chest, filling his ears. Robbe finally turns his chair to properly look at Sander, standing a few feet from him.

“I like you, Robbe. I have always liked you, for the longest time. That stupid joke was a way I found to get closer to you, finally. But I had noticed you before. I thought about it for weeks, trying to remember where I had seen you before, I told you this…” Robbe nods his head, interested, “It was with Noor, you two were spraying a garbage truck.”

Sander grabs his phone inside his jacket with shaking hands, trying to scroll through his gallery quickly enough before Robbe kicks him out. He finally finds the picture, the one he took months ago, and stared at so many times, trying to find more details he could be missing about the mystery boy.

He shows Robbe the photo and tries to look at him while Robbe is busy, carefully grabbing his phone, zooming in.

He looks a little messy. From the weeks they spent glued together after that first kiss, Sander noticed Robbe has a habit of touching his hair when he’s nervous. Sander hates that he made Robbe nervous without meaning to. That it was a bad type of nervous, thinking Sander would ever use him for a prank.

Sander can’t help but stand a little closer, right in front of Robbe, staring at him still looking down at his phone. Robbe gives him the phone back, a little confused when he finds Sander so close, taking a step back, frowning, avoiding to meet Sander’s eyes.

“That’s not an excuse, you know. I stopped filming with Jens and the others because of this...stupid pranks that are never funny.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry, Robbe. It was never my intention for this to go...the way it did.”

Robbe circles around himself, clearly not knowing what to do, but at least he’s not asking Sander to leave just yet so he stands where Robbe left him, watching as he sits on his bed, constantly nibbling the inside of his bottom lip.

Sander looks at the space next to Robbe on the bed, and he moves slowly, sitting there, waiting for Robbe to forgive him.

Two days ago they were kind of pushing and pulling each other out of bed while Sander was trying to go home for once. Robbe wanted him to stay and Sander wanted it too, but he had to go to therapy and he just wanted to see pouty Robbe ask for him to stay.

They kissed against the door and Sander managed to slip out of Robbe’s bedroom, not even looking back so he wouldn’t rush back to Robbe, forgetting all about therapy and his own home. Now Robbe is barely looking at him.

“I’m sorry, Robbe.”

“Stop apologizing,” Robbe whines his complains and Sander looks at him, not thinking before putting his hand on Robbe’s cheek, making him look at him, kissing his lips before Robbe can stop him.

To his surprise, Robbe kisses him back instantly, his hand finding its way to Sander’s neck, stopping in the back, pressing his fingertips against his skin, pulling Sander even closer, deepening the kiss.

He tries to move closer, putting his hands on Robbe’s waist, almost making him fall back, but Robbe moves quicker, a lot more certain, straddling Sander against the mattress, putting both hands on his neck.

“We should-” Sander’s breathing is too short to continue, smiling at Robbe so close to him, staring at his lips, “lock the door.”

“Nobody is coming here right now.” Robbe moves on to kissing his neck eagerly, and Sander closes his eyes, trying not to think about Robbe on his lap, taking his shirt off, kissing his neck with his mouth open and wet.

“Robbe, Senne is dying to come to slice my throat because of that video...lock the door, please.”

Robbe sighs, annoyed, getting up and Sander can’t help but stare at this shirtless, so hot, handsome boy, stomping his feet.

Sander takes his jacket off slowly, watching Robbe lock the door, pushing his hair to the side, off of his eyes. Sander loses his breath watching Robbe open his legs to sit on his lap again, and they’re back to kissing in now time, Robbe pressing his body against Sander, asking him quietly to lie down already.

[outofsstyles]

So much for summer love and saying “us”

a/n: hola! this is my very late fic for @helladirections’s Summer Feeling Challenge!! My prompts were beach + summer rain so yeah! If yall know me you know I could not have miss Taylor release a whole album and not get inspired by it (for this piece particularly it was the song August) so yup this is it. Anyway no more rambling, let me know what you think :)

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: angsty 🤭

Also this takes part after *this blurb* you don’t have to read it to understand but I do recommend it!!

Salt air, and the warm summer breeze messes with your hair. Your fingers get caught on the knots as you run your hands through it, feeling grains of sand lost in the strands, trying your best to untangle it. Even with your attempt to restrain your locks, some still manage to dance along with the wind, whipping in your face in the process, and taking your attention out of the open book resting on your thighs.

With a huff, you pull up your sunglasses from where it rests on your nose, holding your hair back as you use it in a last attempt to repress it. Looking up, now without the darkened vision due to the lenses, you realize the weather has toned down considerably. You pick your phone from where it rests under your legs, pressing the lock button just to check the time and you realize it’s been almost eight hours since everyone first strolled down from the house and settled on the mild pale sand.

Not long ago, the sun was shining proudly in the clear blue sky. It wasn’t as hot as it had been around lunchtime, when you went up to the house to fetch the sandwiches you and Mary made for everyone, almost burning your feet on the heated cobblestone in the process. Instead, it was like a warm hug, a nice contrast to your cooled skin from when you and the rest of the group went out for a swim.

Now, however, the sky was painted in a grayer tone. The sun hiding behind the clouds, no longer shimmering on your skin, reminding you of the rapid approach of summertime.

No else seems to notice (or care) about the change in the weather, really. Maya still reading her book on her beach towel set next to yours, lying on her belly as she flicks through the pages, humming along to the distant song blasting through the speaker. The boys were playing volleyball not too far from where you two lie -- well, at least the best they could with two people on each side. You look in their direction for the first time in the last hour, letting your urges win as your eyes set on the one person you’d been avoiding for the whole day.

The whole week, actually.

It’s been just about a week since your drunk confession to Harry. When you’d said you loved him with your whole chest right as he was about to press play on Coraline. You still cringe at the memory, especially when you recall his reaction, saying it back in the most calculated voice you’d ever seen him use -- you’ve decided he only said it for your sake, as to not make the moment more embarrassing than you’d already made it. He had promised to talk in the morning, but you feel like you can’t be blamed for running away as soon as your eyes fluttered open, and the events of the night prior hit you like a brick in the face.

You feel a pang of guilt about it, of course, for completely avoiding him like you are. Not like it’s a simple task. You live together after all, but you still managed to do it for a whole week. With your term being over, you fell into a routine of meeting with the girls for breakfast in the mornings and hanging around at their flat until the sun was setting and you had to catch the subway before it got too dark. As soon as you got home you’d lock yourself in your room and fall asleep to an episode of Stranger Things.

It was the easiest way, though. Limiting your interactions to a casual ‘Good morning’ or ‘There are some leftovers in the fridge’. No discussion of feelings. No explanation of your remorseful confession. No putting him in the place of having to reject you. No straining in your friendship.

You just pushed back the pain in your heart that came with having to look at his face twice a day and tried your best to ignore him to the best of your abilities.

That is until you couldn’t anymore.

This summer trip has been planned for months now. Since one of your mutual friends explained he’d have his family’s vacation home to himself all summer at a Christmas dinner and wanted to have everyone over for a week or two. It was exciting, of course, having a two weeks getaway with your group of friends seemed like the perfect idea to start your summer break on the right foot. What you’d never expect was that by the time the trip came along the last you’d want was to be in the same house as Harry without having anywhere else to run to.

Sighing, you gaze back at your forgotten book, your eyes sweeping over the words, not able to fully concentrate on them. And just as you give up, opening your mouth to announce you’re joining Mary in the house, a ball hits the spot just below your feet, making the sand around it jump and a small squeal to leave your lips.

You reach for it, leaning forward to hold it in your hands before looking up at the presence approaching you. It’s hard not to feel the jolt in your heartbeat as you meet his jade eyes, there’s almost a hesitance to his steps as he gets closer. You force a smile to tug on your lips as you hand him the ball, ignoring the electric hush that shoots down your spine when your fingers brush just slightly -- it’s the first time you’ve touched him in a week.

“Thanks.” It comes out rushed and you almost miss it. You think he’ll turn around and join the game again but he lingers for a moment, expecting you to say something.

You simply nod, not sure what to say, and that sends him back to where the rest of the boys are waiting for him. It’s hard not to stare as he walks away, the muscles of his broad back moving with him, skin tanned and a bit reddened around the shoulders. If things were normal, you’d have made him put on sunscreen after going for a swim, knowing how easily he gets sunburnt, and you’d pester him for not listening to you once he asked you to help apply the moisturizer that soothes the pain. You’d smooth your hands on his skin and spread kisses along his neck when he flinches as you rub a sore spot. You’d be mindful not to drag your nails through it once he had you under him, panting his name as his head rests between your thighs.

Looking back down at the cover of The Shining, you shake your head at yourself. Things are not normal, and they probably never will be again.

“I don’t even recognize you two anymore.” Maya’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. She closes her book, setting it down on her towel as she looks up at you from behind her sunglasses.

“What do you mean?” You run your eyes from the stare, choosing to gaze at the ocean instead, noting the way the waves are crashing closer to where you lay than they were in the morning.

“You know what I mean.” She shifts to lie on her back, propping herself up on her elbows. “Ignoring him like this is not the solution you know.”

You sigh, fidgeting with the loose strands at the hem of your towel. “I know.”

“You’re just hurting him.” She presses further, taking her sunglasses off and letting it fall on her stomach.

You look at her, eyes silently begging for her to drop this conversation but you know now that she’s brought it up she won’t let go easily. “Maya--”

“It’s the truth, and you have to hear it.” She sits up fully, turning to face you as she crosses her legs. “How long do you plan to keep going like this? You can’t just avoid him forever.”

“I-- I don’t know.” You say honestly, adjusting your glasses on top of your head nervously as you trow a quick look to his direction, making sure he’s still occupied with the game.

“Talk to him.”

You shake your head. “It’s not that simple.”

“Well, it’s what they say, life is not simple, darling.” She argues, “You’re hurting with this just as much as he is.”

Your shoulders drop, just barely, hating how well she knows you. “But not for the same reasons.”

“Really?” Maya’s voice pitches as she tilts her head. “How so?”

“He doesn’t see me like that.”

“You don’t know that.”

Looking up, you take a deep breath, feeling your throat tightens. “But I do know that, Maya.”

“You don’t.” She says softly, leaning forward to reach for your hand. “He loves you.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t--”

“It’s true...” She squeezes your hand, shifting closer so she can rest her head on your knee, eyes searching for yours. “You’ve slept with him every single weekend, for... What? The past year?”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” You wipe away a stubborn tear that slides down your cheek. “You don’t love all the men you fuck.”

“Well I don’t live with them, thank god.” She tries to humor, her smile still tender as she rubs her thumb on your hand.  “You two don’t just fuck, you know that, babe.”

You let out an exhale, chewing at your inner cheek as you let the sounds of the waves and the whistle of the wind fill the air between you two. She’s right, even if you hate to admit it, you can’t go like this for much longer. As easy as it is to ignore your feelings, you know they’re still there, and at some point, you’ll have to face them. The longer you wait, the worse it will be. But you can’t help but feel like any chance of fixing it has slipped through your fingers already. Your relationship with Harry - whatever that was - seems so distant now it’s like an image you can see but can’t quite reach. And it’s all your fault.

Maya sighs after a beat too long of silence, squeezing your hand, “Talk to him, please.”

“I--” you start, but you’re interrupted as thin raindrops begin drizzle from the sky.

It’s gentle, a summer rain clearing the warm air that hugs you with cold drops running down your skin. You and Maya jolt up from where you sit, quickly gathering your towels and patting them against your skin to get rid of some of the sand that stuck to it. Thankfully, Mary took the rest of your belongings with her when she went back to the house, so you don’t have to bother with them as you wrap your towel over your head, hugging your book close to your body so it doesn’t get ruined by the droplets of water. You can hear the commotion behind you from the boys as they interrupt the game, but you don’t turn around, only rushing towards the few steps that lead to the house in search of a cover.

The cobblestone is slippery as you jog in the patio barefooted, and you have to mindful as not to slip down and make matters worse to you with a broken back. But you manage to make it to the covered area without any accidents, thankfully, your feet only sliding slightly against the floor. The double glass doors that lead to the living room are slid open, and you can see Mary sitting on the L shaped couch inside, scrolling through her phone.

She peeks up at you when you approach the door, Maya coming not too far behind you. “Leave your dirty towels on the chairs outside, I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

You do as she says, hanging the towel on one of the rattan chairs arranged in a semi-circle next to you. Mary appears on the doorframe, leaning against it as she crosses her arms under her chest. She’s no longer dressed in her teal bikini set, one you’d complimented as soon as you saw her wearing it. Instead, she’s in some pink pajama shorts, hugging a cream ribbed cardigan close to her body as a rougher strand of wind rips around. Her hair is damp and pushed back behind her ears, you reckon in the short time she was alone in the house she must’ve taken a shower. Which is probably something you should do as well, you think.

Before you can walk inside, though, someone calls you out from behind you. Turning around, you see as the boys approach the house in much less of a hurry you had been in. You find the voice that screamed for you belongs to Declan as he’s leading the rest of them, a taunting smirk painting his face.

“Are you two made of sugar or what?” The words all but stumble out of his mouth and you have to suppress a giggle, he’s probably still drunk from the numerous White Claws they’d consumed throughout the day.

You shake your head. “I’m not trying to get a cold, thank you very much.”

“You’re no fun.” He stops just before entering the covered area, the rain still pouring on his body as he wiggles his hips. “C’mon loosen up a bit.”

You take a step towards him, opening your mouth to bite back but before any word can come out he’s reaching for your arm, drawing you to him. “Declan, no!” You giggle, trying to set yourself free from his grasp but he starts walking backward, pulling you with him. “Stop!”

His other hand that’s not wrapped on your arm is holding the Bluetooth speaker, waving it over his head as he presses his thumb on the volume button, turning it up. Starships starts blasting in the air, blending with the sound of raindrops hitting the ground. You can barely contain your laugh now, wondering how in hell this song even ended up on his playlist. Declan takes the opportunity to fully pull you out in the rain, hugging his arm on your waist and moving his hips along to the beat, bumping it against yours.

He points at Mary who’s still leaning against the door frame, watching the scene with an amused grin.  “I know you love this one.”

“Not a chance Dec.” She calls back from where she stands, earning a loud ‘boo’ from the boy.

His arm doesn’t leave you side as he keeps moving along to the song, his voice slurring the lyrics so loudly next to you it almost swallows the sound coming from the speaker. The drops tickle down your skin, as the rain pours down your body, soaking you as if you’d just dove into the ocean. Your hair is weighing down on your head, and you reach up to push it out of your forehead as you try to follow Declan’s moves but he starts jumping around, making it harder for you.

You watch as Maya decides to join in, skipping to her boyfriend. Looking over your shoulder, you notice the rest of the boys haven’t gone inside and are still standing in the rain, much like Declan. You’re still laughing, almost incredulously, at the scene unfolding in front of you. Seemingly, it’s a clear consequence of the alcohol still very much present in their bloodstreams. But as a sober observer, you can’t help but giggle at the sight of four shirtless men barely keeping their balance as they dance along to Nicki Minaj.

Once the last chorus comes up, Declan unwraps his arm from your waist, reaching for your hand and without much notice spins you around. You stumble on your feet at the sudden move, trying your best to keep yourself from falling down. He doesn’t give you a second to recompose, repeating the move once more, but just as you’re turning around, he lets go of your hand. Without anything to hold on to and keep you steady, your feet slide on the wet stone.

There’s a brief sense of panic that strikes on your body as you feel yourself falling back. But before you can hit the ground, a set of arms catch you, holding on to you a bit awkwardly. You don’t need to look behind you to know who they belong to, the ink hugging his skin being all too familiar to you. Harry’s chest is damp against your back, and his arm is draped around your stomach, the contact of his skin against yours almost burning as you become aware of it.

With his help, you quickly stand back on your feet, untangling yourself from him as soon as you’re on your feet again. Turning around, you don’t miss the way his face is scrunched in a frown, a crease set between his brows and lips tugging downwards. It tugs at your heartstrings, so you give him a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” he nods.  

For a moment you just look at him, lips parted, feeling as if you should say something else. It’s way too similar to the interaction you had only a few moments ago down at the beach. Or more like all the other interactions you had for the past week, really. His eyes are searching for yours, asking a thousand questions that are left unspoken. Lingering in the air between the two of you. His hand reaches to push back a damp lock of his hair stuck to his forehead, you note how his usually hazelnut strands have taken a darker shade. Much like his tattoos, standing out on his skin, glimmering as the raindrops dance freely down his body.

You know it’s been a beat too long of silence for it to start feel a bit awkward. And can’t help but set a silent prayer for something, anything, to take you out of this situation. You wonder if it would be too bad to just turn around now and pretend nothing happened, pondering if it’s the best decision to run away once again. Thankfully, as if on cue, a thunder roars in the sky, interrupting your thoughts as you squeal, jumping slightly, startled. A chorus of curses follow up from behind you, the rain starting to shower rougher from above.

“Okay that’s enough fun in the rain, everyone back inside now!” Mary screams from her spot, motioning with her hands for everyone to leave the outdoors.

“You must be really fun at parties, sweetheart!” Declan shouts back, you notice he’s managed to go all the way around the pool.

“Unless you’re feeling like getting hit by lightning from dancing next to a pool, I suggest you all come inside now.” She yells with a roll of her eyes, her voice taking a stern tone. “I’m not cleaning up anyone’s body for being stupid.”

He lets out a mischievous laugh, jumping his way around the edge. “Okay, mom.”

The towel scratches on your skin slightly, due to the grains of sand still stuck to it, as you try to dry yourself to the best of your ability. In the background, you can hear whines coming from Maya, complaining about not being able to have a bonfire tonight. You linger long enough to hear someone suggest a movie night instead. But as they begin the discussion of a film choice, you’re soon walking past the double glass door and into the house. Wanting to tuck yourself inside your room as soon as possible.

At this moment you give yourself a mental pat in the back for choosing the only room located downstairs. Regardless of it being the smallest, thus being the easiest one to claim, it was an easy choice for you. Not only you’re the furthest from the other rooms (and being on vacation with a couple, that’s a big pro) but you also have a bathroom all to yourself. Of course, it can barely fit two people inside if it came to it - not that it will - but you don’t mind the narrow space. On top of it all, you’re the closest to the ocean. Meaning that, when you’re drifting to sleep, it’s almost as if the waves are crashing at the end of your bed instead of the cool nightly sand, meters away from where you lay. So soothing you can easily ignore the creak of the wooden steps of the stairs right next to your door every time someone feels like coming down for a midnight snack.

The same creak that you hear as you pace your way on the light oak floor, careful to avoid the rugs that come on your way as to not soak their fabrics. And soon enough, you’re alone in the small space you get to call your own for the week. Away from any potential awkward interactions or silent pleas. The loudest noise filling the air being the raindrops knocking on your windows and your thoughts swallowing you whole.

You don’t rush on your shower. Letting the warm water run through your body in a smooth massage, allowing your muscles to relax as you breathe in the coconut-scented steam surrounding you. It does help to soothe you a little, but the weight in your chest still makes itself present.

Leaving the bathroom hugged in your comfiest set of pajamas, you make your way out of the room. As you enter the living area, you notice Mary sitting alone in the same spot she was on the couch, leaning back on the cushions and scrolling on her phone. Her eyes peak up once you approach her, letting the device fall to her chest when you come to a stop at the end of the couch.

“Everyone still in the shower?” You ask.

“Yup,” she nods, picking her phone back up. “Boys left a wreck for you in the kitchen, good luck with it.”

You huff, already regretting volunteering for the cleaning up duty today. Turning on your heals, you make your way towards the archway leading to the kitchen.

“We’re watching Mamma Mia later, by the way!” You hear Mary call out from behind you. “If you wanna make popcorn, I won’t be opposed.”

Throwing her a look over your shoulder, you shake your head as you look at her face, puppy eyes illuminated by the screen of her phone and lips pursed in a pleading pout. You disappear in the kitchen without giving her an answer -- even though you both know you’re also not opposed to the idea of it.

Analyzing the scene you’re met with, hands coming up to rest on your hips, you realize it’s not as bad as Mary made out to be. It’s messy, sure, but manageable. The cooler lies on top of the counter, a puddle pooling around it, and lid crooked on top as someone probably didn’t bother to close it properly. A couple of dishes from lunch still sit inside the sink, waiting to be washed, but not enough for them to pile on top of each other.

You start with them, humming along to a beat that’s been stuck in your head but you can’t quite put a finger on it as you rinse the plates until they’re shimmering clean, the white porcelain reflecting the ceiling light. It doesn’t take you long to get through all of them, lining them on the rack that sits right next to the sink. As soon as you’re finished, you turn your attention to the cooler, taking the lid off completely so you can check the inside. The ice that filled the box has completely melted, as you expected, pooling at the bottom of it. A couple of empty cans, amongst filled ones, float on top of the water.

Picking them up, you try to fit all of them in your hands as to make a single trip to the bin. When you manage to do it, you give one last check inside to see if you missed any. You look up from it at the same time that Harry steps through the archway into the kitchen space. The sudden appearance makes you stop midstep. He also seems to be taken back by your presence, stopping on his track as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. The pang in your heart doesn’t fail to make itself present once again.

He’s fiddling with a water bottle in his hands. Much like you, he’s probably already taken a shower, now dressed in a pair of ash grey sweats and a graphic white tee -- your favorite one, with a blue cartoonish drawing of a smiley bee in the middle and the words “Enjoy health, eat your honey” circling it. Your lips twitch in a smile as you take notice of it. It’s the shirt you love to steal from his closet in hopes of him not missing it, even though he does every time it happens, but still lets you do it cause he says it looks better on you anyway.

He realizes where your gaze has gone, peeking down at his clothes. The smile that takes over his lips, even if small, helps to soothe the knot in your stomach.

Clearing his throat, he breaks the silence this time, voice coming out a bit hesitant. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You nod.

There’s another beat of silence before both of you realize what you’d been doing before being interrupted by the other. And as if on cue, you start walking almost coordinated, crossing your paths as he makes his way to the sink and you reach the bin across the room. You can hear the tap opening and the water filling the inside of his bottle. As you turn to walk back to the counter you watch his broad back facing you, his hair curling at the base of his neck and you can tell he’s looking at the dish rack.

“Did you wash the dishes?” He says, peeking at you from over his shoulder. You meet his gaze, nodding once again as you watch him turn the tap off, turning around as he closes the cap of his bottle. “Shouldn’t have done it all by yourself, you know, could’ve helped you.”

“It was fine.” You reassure with a shrug, placing your hands on the cooler, looking for something to do as you feel him staring.

He stays quiet for a moment, but you can almost hear the wheels in his head turning above the light tapping sound of raindrops outside. You keep your eyes fixed on the cans as you begin taking them out of the cooler, even when you hear him call out your name, only offering a light hum to let him know you’re listening. “Do you, uhm--” He pauses, sighing as you keep yourself focused on the task in hand. “Do you think we can talk?”

You take a sharp inhale, coughing slightly to cover it up as you move the lid to close the container. Chewing on your lip, you keep your eyes trained on your hands as you rest them on the counter, not ready to face what you’ve been so desperately pushing back. Still, you remember what Maya said to you earlier, and you know you can’t keep running away.  “Sure.”

“Love,” his voice comes out pained, tightening a lump that’s forming on your throat. “Can you at least look at me?”

You meet his gaze, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks as you meet his eyes. “Harry--”

He shakes his head slightly, shoulder dropping. “‘S killing me.”

A mesh of voices interrupts your conversation before you can even process what he just told you. You can tell by the sounds of the steps along with the creak of the wooden floor that they’re coming down the stairs. Turning your head, you try to listen closely to foresee if they’re about to enter the kitchen or not. They get louder as they approach, but you can tell they stopped at the living room when Mary’s voice joins the conversation. Harry’s watching you, but the crease settled between his brows tells you he’s also paying attention to the chatter happening outside.

“Maybe we should talk after the movie.” You say after a moment of trying to figure out the loud chatter in the next room.

“Can you meet me in my room?”

“Maybe at mine?” You suggest.  “It’s just more… secluded from the rest, I guess.”

“Okay.” He nods. “After the movie, then.”

The rest of the night blends together as a bit of a blur if you’re honest. And not due to the poorly made strawberry cocktail you have in your hands -- considering you haven’t had more than a sip off of it, and, thankfully, everyone else seems to be too buzzed to notice your untouched cup. No, it’s all thanks to the anxious feeling that has been eating you from the inside out since your brief conversation with Harry. For what seems to be the hundredth time in the past hours you feel your eyes wandering back to him. He’s fiddling with his filled drink, leg bouncing nervously as he leans back on his seat. As if he can feel your eyes set on him, he glances up, meeting your gaze with a raise of his brows.

It’s a simple gesture but you understand the silent question that comes with it, wondering when you’ll be able to sneak out to your room. You had thought that throughout the movie the rest of them would slowly get knocked out, feeling the long day under the sunlight weight on their eyelids, allowing you to settle back in your room without causing any commotion. Surely, Mary was snoring quietly next to you within the first chorus of Honey Honey. But seems like you underestimated everyone else’s capacities of staying awake, for as soon as the end credits were scrolling up on the screen, Declan was up on his feet to suggest a cocktail night.

So here you are, a wink past midnight, watching your friends stumble on their feet at, yet another, Just Dance battle, barely able to understand a single word slurring drunkenly out of their mouths.

You hold Harry’s gaze for a moment, pursing your lips as you ponder how to slip out for the night. Mary’s still sitting next to you, her body relaxed so deep into the cushions it’s like she’s swallowed by it. Her head has fallen back, chest moving along lazily with her breaths, if it wasn’t for the occasional blinks, you would’ve assumed she’d fallen asleep once again. You lean forward, setting your filled glass on the mahogany center table before turning back to her.

“Tired?” You ask.

Her head falls heavy on her shoulder as she looks at you, a small smile tucking on her lips when she nods. “If they decide to take out UNO, I swear to god…”

“I don’t think they ever sleep if I’m honest.” You chuckle just as the last few chords of Sugar come to an end. The sound of the boys’ laughs takes over the brief silence that set in the room, their chatter mixing with the sounds of the wind shaking the glass on the now-closed doors that lead outside. Shifting closer to your friend, you lower your voice just enough for her to hear it, “Feel like now’s the best chance to call it a night.”

“You know,” she sighs. “That was probably the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

You smile, sparing one last look to Harry, only to find him still watching you. Giving him a small nod, as to let him know your intentions, you scoop to the edge of the couch, standing up with a big stretch.”Okay, guys think my bed’s calling me.”

“What?” Maya’s voice yelps on top of the chorus of protests. “But I was about to get my Twister mat!”

“Some of us need to sleep.” Mary’s voice speaks up as she shifts to get up from her cozy spot, her movements much more lethargic than yours. “Shocker, I know.”

You hear echoes of objections and teasing mumbles but don’t really register their words, only sparing a final wave to the group before making your way towards your room. You make a quick stop at the bottom of the staircase, binding Mary a goodnight and watching her for a moment as she ascends the steps, dragging her feet lazily on the groaning wood. Once you finally make it to your door, it takes everything in you not to glance over your shoulder. The back of the chair he’s sitting is facing you, but you wonder if your eyes will meet once again. If he’s searching for yours as desperately as your searching for his.

You don’t look, though. Closing the door behind you as fast as you open it. As if the barrier between you two will somehow help dull the aching in your chest that’s now growing stronger with the realization that you have nowhere to hide from your feelings anymore. Taking deep breaths, you back away until the back of your thighs meet the smooth fabric of the blue comforter hugging your mattress, crossing your legs as you sit back on it.

The room is dark, as you didn’t bother turning on the lights when you first walked in, the only illumination coming from outside, due to your curtains still being pushed open. Thankfully, the rain from earlier is long gone, clearing the night sky so the moon can shine proudly and fully amongst the sea of stars dotted around it. It gives the space a silver glow, giving you an odd sense of calmness as you look out the big window across the bed. The whispers of the wind are still loud against the tree branches, as well as the waves crashing angrily at the shore. Still, the sounds of nature do nothing to quiet down the laughs that come from the other side of the door, even if faint, they’re still loud, and it snaps your attention back to the reason why there’s an anxious twist set in your stomach.

It feels like hours have passed of you sitting alone, chewing at the nail on your thumb, feeling your thoughts drowning you. Every so often your eyes dart to the door, waiting for a creak of steps or a soft knock. But every time you’re met with silence, the door still closed, almost mocking your nervousness. You wonder if he’s given up, you know he hasn’t forgotten about it, there’s no way he would, but maybe he just realized there’s no reason on fighting for whatever’s left between you two. Or maybe he’s just giving you a taste of your own medicine. Letting you sink in the silence and doubt until it floods every cell of your body. Or maybe he’s just trying to find the words to reject y--

The moment you fall back to your cushions, the lump in your throat becoming suffocating at this point, a sound you’ve been waiting for breaks you out of your mind: a quick knock followed by the door opening. The lights of the hallway creep in the room along with Harry, as he pokes his head in.

“Come in.” You clear your throat when your voice comes out in a whisper. Watching as he opens the door wider, just enough to fit the rest of his body, shutting it behind him with a click. You shift a bit, motioning to the spot on the bed in front of you as you try to untie the knot that tightens in your chest.

“Sorry it took me so long,” He sits in front of you. “They really insisted on playing a round of that fucking game.”

“It’s fine.” You give him a weak chuckle. “I was just…” You trail off, shrugging as your eyes set on your lap. “I don’t know, thinking, I guess?”

He nods. “Yeah, I was thinking, too.”

“So…”

“So,” You can feel his eyes searching for yours, so you glance up. There’s a crease set between his brows, his whole body tensed as he chews on his bottom lip. “How do we even start this?”

“I don’t know.” You answer truthfully, trying to find the words to explain everything that’s been flowing in your mind for the last week. But before anything, you know you owe him an apology, so you sigh, the words slipping out of your mouth shakier than you’d intended. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to apologize.” He says in a blink, shaking his head softly. His voice is low, but tender, “I want to understand what happened.”

“I--” The crack in your voice makes you exhale in frustration, blinking rapidly as you look up at the ceiling, focusing on the pattern of shadows cast due to the moonlight slipping through the tree branches outside. You don’t want to cry.  “I don’t even know, just…” Taking a deep breath you meet his eyes again, knowing there’s no reason to beat around the bushes anymore. “That night, I was so embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“Cause I was drunk and--” You rub your hands over your face, wandering your eyes anywhere but on him. No need to beat around the bushes, you think again, you should just go straight to the point.  “And I had a stupid breakdown after kissing someone else.” “

“It wasn’t stupid, lo--” He cuts himself off, and you’re sure if it wasn’t for the loud thumping of the wind he could hear the crack of your heart from where he sits. “Your feelings aren’t stupid.” You watch as he looks down at his lap, fingers fidgeting with the string of his sweats as he shuts his eyes tight. “But you didn’t have to shut me off.”

The emotion behind his words is so clear, even with the darkness surrounding you, that you can’t help but scoop closer to him, hesitantly reaching your hand to rest on his shoulder. “I know.”

“Do you know how much it killed me to have you not even look at my face?” He looks up again, his waterline glossy, pooling with tears, only twisting the knot that’s settled in your chest. When he speaks again, it’s just above a whisper, “It’s like I lost you.”

You’re not sure why is it that as soon as the words leave his mouth you recoil from him. His declaration feeling nearly unfair to you, only serving as for increasing your frustration at the whole situation in hand. So you can’t help as to increase your voice slightly, a pinch of anger hidden behind it.  “Well I’m not--” You stop yourself as it comes out louder than you’d intended, the annoyance quickly dissolving into pure sadness as you register what you’re about to say. “I wasn’t yours for you to lose, Harry.”

The breath he takes is audible, your words hitting him like a brick. He nods, more to himself than to you, shrugging slightly as he looks dows at the wrinkles on the comforter, the empty space between the two of you. “Maybe I want you to.”

You blink at him, lips parting as it takes you a second to understand what he just said. “What?”

“You didn’t even give me a chance.”

“I’m sorry.” You can’t help but repeat yourself, unable to control the tear that trickles down your cheek. Sniffling, you rub it out, “I was just…”

“Scared?” He finishes as you trail off, now it’s his turn to shift closer to you, hand cupping your cheek as he caresses another tear that trails down your skin.

“Yeah.”

“I’m scared too, baby.” The petname slips off his tongue, sending a spark of electricity down your spine and tugging a smile on your lips. You don’t hold back anymore, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and tucking your head at the base of his neck. Breathing in, the familiar scent of his shampoo mixes with the faint whiff of his cologne, and even a hint of sunscreen. It hits you all at once, how much you missed the closeness to him, the feeling of his arms wrapped around your middle, and the softness of his lips pressed on the side of your head. His voice is muffled by your hair, “Hate that we’re like this.”

“I hate it too.” You nod against his neck, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to, H.”

“Shh, I know.” His hand comes up to massage your hair, the action so loving your hands grab at his shirt trying to pull him even closer. “We can fix this, though, okay? Me and you?”

“Yes.”

“No running away anymore.”

“I promise.” You fall silent for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s embrace. When you feel him press another kiss at the side of your head, you pull away, just enough to lock your eyes on his. “Harry?”

“Yes, love?”

“Can you stay tonight?”

“Course.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “Can stay every night you want me to.”

[honeypirate]

Old Friends part three

parts 1 and two on my masterlist here

Bakugou Pro!Hero x Pro!hero female reader

I don’t know much about Bakugou’s new hero name, like reasoning behind the change, i don’t read the manga, but I am aware of the new name so I use it because this is set in the future, i don’t know if it is a spoiler anymore or not lol 

I probably should have reread the other parts just in case I forgot anything but oh well. Here’s this part that might have a lot of errors haha. 😘

Also sorry for using a Spotify link and then a YouTube link and not just both the same site but I don’t want to change it because I don’t know if many people will even click them XD

The links for the hero outfit go to Pinterest

You get to the office and Bakugou introduces you to their secretary at the front desk, “this is, Mina, she takes calls and files the paperwork for cases we take from the public, we check in with her when we get here and she gives us...” Mina takes out a small black box and places it on the desk while he talks “ear pieces that connects us all to each other and to her when we need her to give us information.” you all three take an ear piece and you smile at the small girl, she had an intimidating air about her and you liked that “it’s nice to meet you!” you say with a small bow and she bows back to you “you as well, Guardian” her use of your hero name didn't bother you, on the walk over Kiri had mentioned that Mina’s quirk allowed her control over who is and who isnt allowed to enter the building, once she knows your face she can allow you to always enter, so if any one wanted to come meet to request assistance they needed to book an appointment first to be confirmed, after she runs intense background checks. 

You head into the women’s locker room to change into your hero suit before the meeting, the familiar feeling of excitement and anxiety knotting its way into your stomach, the calm before the storm of a mission. You put in your headphones and hit play on your mission playlist, a playlist that you and Bakugou made together in high school specifically to get in the right head space before work. It’s since been added to but still has the original songs you both came up with, they always worked to get your head in the game. 

(this is the song that plays this link takes you to spotify)

Once you’re dressed in your usual hero attire,(( outfit  but gloves like this tho))

You stash your bag, phone, and street clothes in a locker that was provided, you place the ear piece in a pocket and exit the room quietly singing the song from your playlist that was now stuck in your head. “I drew stick figures of you and me, don't you agree? We would make-” “the best team, better than the 96 Bulls ever were” Bakugou cuts you off, saying the rest of the line you were singing, you turn to see him leaning against the wall outside the locker room, waiting for you, you smirk and tilt your head “you’re still listening to ‘Y/N and BK get pumped?” He chuckles at your question “I will keep listening to it for as long as it works” he reaches up and messes with your cowl, running his fingers across the edge, “same here” you feel nostalgic and your chest fills with butterflies as he looks you over “I like your new suit” he nods approvingly “I like your new name” you quip back and he laughs “thank you. I felt it fit better. Our meeting is in here” he says and points to the door across the hall. You nod once and follow him into the meeting room. 

 You're sat at a conference table with many heroes, most you recognize but there is one man that you don't, he seems familiar but you don’t pay too much attention. Bakugou was seated in front of you at the rectangular conference table and Kirishima was to his left explaining the situation. “Thank you all for showing up to aid us with this mission, I’ll get right into it, over the past few weeks students from UA have been going missing. Up until recently we had no idea who they were or why they were doing this. The last victim to be kidnapped was a young student named Juliette” you got the goosebumps, ‘it could be a coincidence’ you thought as you looked at Kirishima as he spoke  “the two previous victims were girls with the same name and all girls are 17. We still don't know why they are doing this but we now have a name.” a man comes up on a TV screen on the wall behind Kirishima and on the TV behind you, a man you knew well, your eyes are glued to the screen as pictures flash across the screen of him with his associates and him with the victims. You’re grateful for your cowl that hides your emotions that are on the surface. Your memories coming back to you in waves, meeting him on the bus one night when you were doing your internship in America, pretending to be interested in him and his goals. Making him fall in love with you just to lock him up. Stomach acid burned your throat as you watched the pictures change. 

Your thoughts are chased away as you feel someone nudge your leg with their foot, your eyes immediately flick to Bakugou who is staring right at you with his brows furrowed. He could always read you, you weren’t surprised that hasn't changed. You reach out with your foot and gently touch the inside of his ankle up to his knee, deciding to use him as a distraction for your brain. When you notice his cheeks subtly dust with pink you smirk and then turn your attention to Kirishima, now with more resolve. 

“The group of villains calls themselves The Red Ox. We know their usual hideouts but so far they've been all empty, we have sights on them 24/7 to see if they return. We need to gather whatever information we can and find them as soon as possible. We will be working directly with the police to get these girls back.” ”Red, can I speak?” your hand is a little raised,  he nods “go for it” you stand up and point to the TV “the guy in the middle, his name is Robin, the other two wearing masks are part of his quirk, when I knew him in California five years ago he went by the name Triple Threat. Last I knew we captured him and he was imprisoned in America. The kids,” your voice breaks and you clear your throat to cover your true feelings and feel a little comfort when Bakugou's shoe gently touches yours again, “the kids are a message. We caught him because I went undercover with the name Juliette Simmons and became his sidekick, ending up breaking his heart and apparently making him obsessed with me. He knows I went to school at UA, I don't know what he is going to do but I think he wants me.” 

 The hero you don't recognize speaks up “since Guardian here knows him and failed to stop him before then it's kind of her fault? Can’t she just use her powers to manipulate him and capture them anyway? I don’t see why we’re needed” the hero crosses his arms in his chair and sends a look of disgust your way. Your hands curl into fists against the table, you’re about to stand up for yourself but before you can Bakugou beats you to it, his fists clenched as little blasts go off against his palms. He looks more pissed than you've ever seen him, he looks downright feral,  “your attitude is not helping us find these girls any quicker, you're causing unnecessary tension and not to mention being a complete dick. You know her hero name? So that means you understand her power? Her quirk costs a price to use, Dumbass. If she does something substantial it takes the price from her. If you're not going to work with us as a team then you can leave. We don’t need you.” the unknown hero gets up and walks out in a huff and you sit down quietly, throwing a glance at Kiri who sighs “was that really--” “yes!” Bakugou cuts him off and then sits. “Continue, Guardian'' he then says calmly with a nod at you.  

“Robin was a student at the university in the same town where I had my internship. He was obsessed with human experiments to see if he could use his quirk to separate other people into threes like he does with himself. We should contact heroes in the US and ask for their files and see if they know how he got here instead of being in prison. Last I knew he was sentenced to life” Kirishima nods “Mina?” He says and the secretary who was sitting down at the end of the table opens her laptop “on it” she says and starts typing with inhumanly quick speed. You glance at Bakugou and he gives you a look that you can tell means he’ll talk to you later. 

After more research and phone calls to your old teachers you all split up into pairs to go look around places he might be, a few hospitals reported thefts of medical supplies and blood banks as well, there were also reports that civilians had seen him in a few shopping centers buying clothing. Kirishima gives everyone orders, he pairs you and Bakugou and gives you the task to go around the hospitals and see if you can find out anything more than the police had, you also wanted to check out a bar you think he would have liked if he was the same as when you knew him. “Send all your information to Mina, she will make files for everyone to have tomorrow at the next meeting. Let’s go”  the sound of chairs rolling back on the tile fills your ears, you glance at Bakugou and he gestures for you to wait, you nod and stay standing near the table waiting for the rest of the heroes to file out of the meeting room. Kirishima gives you a reassuring smile before being the last one to disappear.

“What’s up?” you keep your voice quieter since the room was now empty, “that’s the guy you were dating before?” His voice is calm, hiding how he really felt, which was embarrassed for bringing him up earlier, he didn’t know how you felt about it but he knew how hard going undercover was especially when feelings are involved. You give a simple nod and his brows furrow even deeper than they were. “I know how hard those missions can be. I’m.. uh.. We.. are always here to talk if you need someone” you can't help the warm fuzzy feeling that surrounds your heart. You place your arm on his bicep “Thank you, for being here for me after all these years and for standing up for me earlier. You’ve grown into an amazing hero and an even better man. Now what do you say we go and kick some ass?” 

You left him with tingles in his arm where you touched him and butterflies in his stomach thinking about what you've said to him. He's been trying desperately these last years to grow into someone you can be proud of, you and his parents are the most important people to him, all that matters is that you are the ones who are proud of him. You don’t know how much it meant to hear you tell him those things. your voice breaks the silence “We’re here” “where is here G? This isn’t the hospital.” you let out a dry humorless chuckle “no but this is just the kind of place he would be at. I wanted to check here first since it was on the way” he nods once and holds the door open for you. 

Pain. White hot, searing, pain. You grab your head and fall to your right knee, letting out a scream from the pain before taking a big inhale and holding your breath to feel where the pain was coming from. It started in your skull then flooding down your spine and into every one of your pain receptors. “Dyna-'' you manage to gasp out, turning your attention to the hero beside you who is doubled over in the same amount of extreme pain, panting, his fists are tight at his sides with little explosions happening in the palms of his hands. His face is scrunched trying to control himself from blasting his way out. He needed to protect everyone else in this bar, there were so many innocents. You try to use your quirk to stop the pain at the source in your body but the more you tried the more waves of pain you felt. Once you manipulated it to stop it would just start in a different part of your body and spread out.  

“Oh my poor Juliette.. Or should I say y/n? Oops pardon me,  Guardian!” He waves his hand dramatically in the air and rolls his eyes “didn't mean to blow your identity” his voice was far away sounding like you were underwater, your eyes searched the room to see if you could find where it was coming from. Robin was walking over to you from the bar, a beer in hand, flanked by three identical girls who look like the first victim.”Don’t. Touch. Her” Bakugou's voice was tense with pain as he tried to move in front of you, Robin just laughed and motioned to the girls, after that Bakugou must have passed out from the amount of pain he was in, he fell to his face and was motionless. “Bastard” your voice comes out in a forced whisper, it was so hard to talk, you're just glad Bakugou is still breathing. 

 “This was far sooner than I was expecting but i guess i underestimated you” he crouches in front of you and you scowl, from the pain and from the rage you felt from him hurting Bakugou “the pain you’re feeling is from my associate here, which i’m sure you’ve figured out already, although shes attacking your nervous system, i don’t doubt you’ll figure out how to get past the pain, making yourself indestructible inside and out, then you’ll be able to stop her with your quirk so i unfortunately have to be quick.” your mind is swimming, you felt queasy and clammy, you spit at him and he laughs before motioning to the triplet girls who hold up their hands, you thought you felt pain before that was nothing compared to now. A maniacal laugh fills your ears and you pry your head up to look at Robin again “my poor doll.” he strokes your face and you gag, you would have bit him if you could have moved more through the pain. You start at your feet and use your quirk to manipulate your cells to accept the pain, to grow and adapt with the pain, slowly regaining your control over yourself without moving a muscle so they wouldn’t suspect. out of the corner of your eye you see the other two of Robin’s bodies keeping the rest of the bars customers at bay. Come on, y/n think! What is the best course of action? 

“Again! Gaining movement quicker than i thought!” his laughter is crazier than you remember, your body tingles with bad feelings and tension underneath all the pain  “we still have many things to do before the final phase of my plan, so we will have to be going now, next time we meet it will be when I have planned it, I can guarantee you that. But first, what i need is this” he reaches out and cuts off a piece of your hair, you reach out and grab his wrist tight “why..do you need... that?” you spit out and he just laughs more and caresses your cheek “all in due time my doll. All in due time” he turns to the triplets who crank up your pain again, making you scream, dropping his wrist and falling to your elbows on the floor of the bar. You’re barely aware of his speaking again, and barely aware of his kick to your ribs before he walks out the bar laughing, the triplets and his other two bodies following him. 

You hear voices far away, your mind is cloudy, you feel like you’re sinking through mud. Memories of your childhood with Bakugou run through your head as you sink into the darkness 

“You fought Deku?” Your voice was soft, standing with him in the empty stairwell of the dorms. He doesn’t say anything, just nods once, his usual scowl on his face. “Katsuki” you whisper and see his hard exterior softens for a moment, his scowl turning into a look of grief, you softly take his hand that was in a fist by his side, and pull him to you, wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers of your left hand through his soft hair. He breaks then, his hot tears hitting your neck and shoulder as he curls into you, his arms tight around your middle and you feel his sobs rack through his body. You softly hum the song stuck in your head, Lookers by The Menzingers, while rubbing his back with one hand and the other still in his hair. You loved him then. You love him now. 

Bakugou is holding your hand sitting beside you in the ambulance headed to the hospital, you’ve been out for a long time and he's starting to get worried, he came to right when Robin kicked you and he was filled with rage, he wished he wasn't still being affected by the triplets, he would have killed him right then if he could. Seeing you hurt like this brought back feelings he didn’t think he had anymore, he didn’t want to lose you. He didn’t want to see you in pain.

He assumed that when the pain left his body that they were too far away for the girls quirk to work anymore. He pulled you into his arms and checked your pulse, it was too faint to fill him with anything but worry, he presses the button on his ear piece “Mina we need an ambulance, the bar on 25th, Guardian is down” not even one second passes before shes talking back “they’ll be there in two minutes” he looks up at the bystanders “the police will be here in a few minutes! is everyone else okay?” the bar owner comes around and up to him “everyone is fine, how is she?” Bakugou's lips form a tight line “She’s alive. That’s all I know” 

Your senses slowly return to your body, the bed you’re in isn’t very comfortable, you feel a hand clutching yours and something wet on your fingers. Your eyes flutter open and your stomach flutters at the sight. You’re in a hospital room and Bakugou is sitting next to your bed, holding your hand in his with his forehead resting on the top, the wetness on your fingers were his tears. Your stomach fills with butterflies as you remember your dreams of him, you knew your new found feelings would complicate things but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“What happened?” your voice is soft, drained, his head snaps up and you see his bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks. You smile and place your hand on his cheeks, brushing away his tears. “I was so worried” his voice cracks and you bring your other hand over to cup his face “I hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble” you brush away the last of his tears and he brings your palm to his lips, kissing it softly. “Not too much, but more than I would have liked.” You nod and your voice is barely a whisper, your eyebrows drawn together “I wish I could have protected you from whatever she did” he shakes his head and takes your hands in both of his “it’s not your fault. We will get them next time. Now we know more about what we’re up against” you nod but your feelings of guilt still linger in your chest. 

Recovery Girl fixed you up and you did what you could to manipulate your cells back into shape. You and Bakugou give your statements to the police then you head back to the office to give your reports to Mina as well as report back to Kirishima. By the time you got back to the office it was after midnight, you didn’t expect this all to take so long. You stop outside the office and grab Bakugou's hand, the trip back was quiet, just listening to the sounds of the city not knowing what to say to each other yet. “Are you okay?” You squeeze his hand and he nods “I’m alright” you cup his cheek again “do you mind if I..” he chuckles “do whatever you want. I trust you” your cheeks flush and you nod, bringing your other hand up to his cheek. You close your eyes and focus on the feeling of your quirk, scanning through the cellular makeup of his body, you saw the pain receptors that were damaged in his body and fixed them, unblocking some of the receptors in his palms that would hinder his quirk, you see his cells like a constellation behind your eyes, brightening the dull spots and making sure each aura flowed smoothly. Little things like this didn’t take much, just a little of your energy with no other repercussions. When you open your eyes he’s looking right into yours, a smile on his lips “do you know when you do that, you get a little aura that looks sparkly, like stars. Like you’re my personal guardian angel” you chuckle “it only happens if I have personal feelings towards the person I’m helping. It’s also the reason behind my hero name” you smile, dropping your hands from his cheek and saying “let’s go” you walk into the office, Bakugou right behind you, already overthinking your somewhat of a confession. 

Kirishima hugged you the moment he saw you “I’m so glad you’re alright” he hugged Bakugou the same way and you smiled when Bakugou actually hugged him back. “I finished the paperwork for you guys from what the police had sent over to me. You guys should go home and order delivery and we will continue this conversation there. There is nothing we can do about any of this tonight so we should rest up.” You frown but agree. Heading into the locker room to change back into your street clothes before heading out. “Y/n” Bakugou breaks the silence between you “hmm?” You glance over at him and he looks worried “if you’re thinking that you’re going to be forced to use your quirk in a big way, please don’t. At least not yet. Give us a few days to form a strategy and plan. We can figure it out. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Not like before.” you let out a sigh and reach out your hand to him, silently asking him to take it, he doesn’t hesitate to lace your fingers together and squeeze your hand. you think through the last time you used your quirk in an extreme way, your last year of school there was another villain attack on the school, half of the buildings were destroyed, several people were injured and could die, you were in a panic and seeing Bakugou hurt pushed you over the edge, you couldn’t help but fix it. you used your quirk and reversed all the destruction and pain that was caused. bringing the villains back to be captured and making sure everyone was fine, everyone but you. your quirk needed to be paid so it took it from you, almost every bone in your body was broken and your muscles were torn, the pressure form your quirk wrecked your body. that was the first time you saw Bakugou cry out in the open around others, when he found you struggling to breathe because of the blood in your lungs, laying in the middle of training ground beta, he felt just as broken. if it wasn’t for Recovery Girl being on campus you probably would have died. your body simply isn’t as powerful as your quirk is. 

 You squeeze his hand three times “I don’t want that to happen either, I want to save those girls and figure this out without having to use my quirk like that. but it’s so frustrating to know that with a snap of my fingers I could fix this all, especially with the hair he took from me, what the hell could he need that for?! but something this big, the repercussions would be extreme, it would break every bone in my body and that’s the least it would do. but it makes me feel guilty like I’m putting my life above theirs and I don’t feel that way. I’m not better than anyone.their lives are worth the same as mine. What if he can use my hair and DNA to replicate me? or what if he uses it to control me? I don’t want anything to happen because of me, maybe what would be best would be stopping him right now no matter what happens to me” he takes a deep breath, thinking about what you’ve said “I hear you, I understand what you’re saying. the quickest option is not always the best option. there are too many unknown repercussions if you used your quirk that we have to factor in and figure out. we’ll bring it to the table tomorrow and discuss options.” his voice softens, like it was full of an emotion you couldn't name, “I never want to see you like that again. if we can figure this out without you having to use your quirk to that extent, then i think we should try that first” you reach the apartment then and Bakugou unlocks the door and lets you go in first. he closes the door and turns toward you with his arms out, you chuckle softly before walking into his embrace. you turn your head and lay your cheek against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat comforting to you “I know you’re right. we should eat and sleep on this and then we can decide more with everyone tomorrow. thank you for reminding me i’m not alone” he rubs his hand in circles across your back, you feel so vulnerable in his arms right now, all the walls you thought you had from not seeing him in years have broken down, you pull back and look up at him, noticing all his new scars on his chin and neck from the fights hes had, his stubble on his cheeks and jaw, hes grown into such a handsome man. his hand cups your cheek “i’ll always be here for you” he whispers and his thumb brushes across your lower lip, sending shivers down your spine and making your cheeks blush “Katsuki” your voice is barely above a whisper, his cheeks blush when you say his name, your eyes flutter close as he leans down, his lips ghost over yours and your body floods with butterflies and tingles. Your hands tangle in his hair and he pulls you tighter against his chest, your lips press harder against his, when he nips at your bottom lip you can’t help but giggle and he smiles at the sound, take the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, making you moan quietly and melt against him.

The sound of a key in the lock scares you both and you both step away from each other at the same time, one second before Kirishima walks in the door. You chuckle and turn away from the door, walking into the kitchen to get some water, so that Kirishima wouldn’t see your red face or swollen lips. Kiri is either oblivious or really good at acting like it, he throws his stuff down and says “the only take out place open is pizza! I ordered some on the way home so let’s shower and then we can eat and talk more. I have some ideas about the hair.” “Y/n go take the first shower” Bakugou orders and you chuckle as you meet his eye, you wink at him “okay boss” you chuckle again and he rolls his eyes “what do I get for trying to be nice? Mocked” he grabs his bag and heads to his room.

You grab your sweats and your underwear and head into the bathroom to shower, you take this ten minutes of alone time to clear your head as you stand under the hot water as it eases your muscles. You exit the shower and wrap yourself in a towel, deciding to brush your teeth just in case you get another opportunity to kiss again, and then get dressed.

“Fuck” you say and sigh, looking at yourself in the mirror, you had bruises across your ribs but that wasn’t the reason you swore. You forgot a shirt so you were standing in your sweats and a naked top. You look at your dirtyclothes and frown, you didn’t really want to put back on your dirty shirt, you raise a hand and put it against the towel that was now wrapped around your head, you guess you could just walk to your room down the hall in a towel, *knock knock* “are you okay?” Bakugou’svoice made you smile, you cover your chest with an arm and open the door a little to look out at him, lucky you he had his pajamas in his hands. You reach out the crack in the door and grab his hand, pulling him into the bathroom with you. “Whoa what are you doing?” He voice sounds a little worried and his cheeks flush when he realizes you’re not wearing a shirt, he looks up at the ceiling and you take his shirt from his hands “you’re my hero Bakugou” you say and laugh as you turn around so your back is towards him “holy fuck” he whispers when he sees your bruises, he can’t help himself as he reaches out, his fingers brushing softly against your skin makes you gasp, the shirt was over your head now and your towel on the sink “sorry” his voice was soft “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop him from hurting you” your face blushes and you pull the shirt all the way down before you turn back to look at him.

You cup his cheek “hush” you smile softly before realizing he needs to shower “we can talk after you shower, I’ll leave” he grabs your wrist softly “you can stay. We can talk now. I mean if you’re not uncomfortable” he blushes at what could be implied. You know him better than that tho. “If you don’t mind.” You laugh and then sit up on the counter top next to the sink turning your head to look at your hands in your lap as he undressed.

Once he’s in the shower, the scent of his body soap fills the air, “remember that girl that liked you in high school?” He laughs “which one?” You scoff “lady killer over here.” You jest and then clear your throat “I mean the one during graduation” your voice was quieter when you asked, you thought that it was best to get this talk over with before you did any more kissing. The water shuts off and he grabs his towel, wrapping it around his waist before opening the shower curtain, you gasp at the sight of his bare chest and stomach, the way water was dripping down his shoulders, his hair stuck to his forehead and neck. You gulp and then sit up straighter and he closes the distance between you. “Come with me. I need something from my room if we’re going to finish this conversation.” He picks up his dirty clothing and his pajamas and you grab your clothes too, following him from the bathroom. You put your dirty clothes in your room before walking back to his, wringing your hands out the whole way. Nervous flittering in your belly. What could he possibly need in his room to be able to talk about that? You knock on the door softly and he opens it with a smile, now in sweats with the towel around his neck, his eyes looked anxious but excited. You raise your eyebrows as you enter, he clears his throat and closes the door, catching Kirishima giving him a thumbs up before it closes all the way. You let out a shocked laugh when he faces you again and you see what he’s holding “Is that my letter?”

[iliumheightnights]

Just a Phase | Jared Cameron x Male!Reader

Fandom: Twilight

Pairing: Jared Cameron x Male!Reader

Summary: Jared and (M/N) had been friends since diapers. However that all changed one day when Jared left him to go play nice with Sam Uley. When Jared imprints on his best friend he realizes he might be too late.

(M/N) had moved to La Push with his family when he was really little. He barely remembers what his life was like before the move. He does however remember the first day he met Jared Cameron, his best friend.

The day had been like any other day. However it was a little colder than normal. (M/N) was playing with some toys in his room when his parents called him to come greet some guests. When he arrived in the living room saw a nice woman talking to his parents and a young boy about his age. 

“(M/N) this is Mrs.Cameron and her son Jared. Maybe you and Jared can go and play with your toys in your room while we talk?”

(M/N) nodded and smiled at the boy. “I have some legos and action figures. C’mon!”

The two raced to (M/N)’s room. “Okay. What do you want to play? We can play-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Jared ran past him and started playing with a lego set. “You have the lego millenium falcon! I’ve wanted it forever but mom says it’s too expensive.”

“Yeah I got it as a birthday present from my grandma.”

Jared lifted the ship off the ground and started to pretend it was flying through space. “Wwhhooosshh. Blam! Pew pew pew!”

(M/N) grabbed a small action figure ship and started to pretend it was chasing Jared’s ship. “I’m gonna get you!”

“Oh no we’ve been hit! We’re going down!” Jared went to pretend like the ship was crashing, however he accidentally tripped and sent the lego ship shattering on the ground. Breaking into tiny pieces. “Whoops. Sorry.”

(M/N) felt a little sad, but it was only a matter of time until that happened. “It’s okay, it can be rebuilt. Hey! Do you want to help rebuild it with me!?”

Jared’s sad face immediately became a large grin. “Yes!”

The two spent the rest of their time together rebuilding the ship and by the time Jared had to leave it was fixed. The two had become inseparable ever since.

…

“Hey (M/N) wait up!”

(M/N) stopped and turned around. He watched as Jared ran towards him. He looked like he had just woken up from a nap, which he probably did since his last class was math. Finally Jared caught up to him and fixed his backpack which hadn’t been fully zipped causing papers to fly out. “How was math?” (M/N) said while helping pick up the papers.

“Oh you know-math. Equations and all that.”

“You fell asleep.”

“I fell asleep.”

The two started to walk out of the school. Of course in Washington fashion the weather was muggy. The sky was cloudy and it was cold, couldn’t ask for more sunny days?

“So Sam still isn’t back yet. I wonder what’s going on with him.” Jared stated. His worry was showing on his face.

“I’m sure he’s okay. He’s probably just sick, I’m sure he’ll be back soon enough.” (M/N) put his hand on Jared’s shoulder and gave him a smile.

“You’re probably right. Hey, want to go cliff jumping?”

“Um,hell no. Let’s just go get some food. I’m starving.”

…

(M/N) was at his desk finishing up some homework when he heard a noise from his window. He looked as a small rock hit it,followed by another. Walking to the window he opened it and looked out seeing Jared. “What are you doing?” (M/N) whisper shouted.

“Come on. We’re going out tonight.”

“What?”

“Just come on.”

(M/N) only sighed and rolled his eyes before he put on a jacket and his shoes. Sneaking out of his house was pretty easy since both his parents were heavy sleepers. He left his house and quickly climbed into Jared’s car. The boy’s drove for a bit not really talking,just taking in the sound of the engine. Eventually the car came to a stop at one of the beaches.

“Help me grab the things.” Jared said while getting out of the driver’s seat. He opened the back and pulled out a cooler and a large blanket. The two walked to a good space on the beach where the tide wouldn’t reach them. Setting the blanket down, Jared sat down and pulled out a lamp and turned it on. He then started pulling the food out.

“What are we doing here Jared?’

“What? We can’t just have a nice midnight picnic?’

“I would say yes we can, but it’s you.”

“Hey!” Jared threw a wrapped sandwich at (M/N), which he caught and sat down.

“So why are we really out here?” (M/N) unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite.

“I just wanted to bring you out here and spend some time with you. We hang out a lot but we don’t get to have a lot of moments like these.”

The two ate the rest of the food while joking around about school. They told stories of other adventures and outings they had. After a while Jared turned off the lamp and laid down on his back and signaled for (M/N) to do the same. The two boys laid on the blanket looking up at the sky of stars, it was luckily not cloudy so they could see them perfect.

“I love moments like these with you.” Jared said.

“Same.”

…

The next few days of school went by fine. Sam Uley had finally returned however he looked much different than he had. Not only that but Jared was starting to act strange. It seemed like everything was making him more irritable than usual. It was the end of the day and normally (M/N) and Jared would go home together. Jared however was nowhere to be seen, finally (M/N) spotted him walking to his car and quickly rushed to him.

“Jared! Hey wait up!” Jared paused but didn’t look at him. “Where were you? Were you just gonna leave me?”

“What’s the big deal? You’re a big boy you can walk home fine.”

(M/N) stood their speechless. Jared had never talked like this to him before, he especially never left (M/N) stranded somewhere.

“What brought this on? Jared, is something wrong? If something’s wrong you can tell me.”

(M/N) put his hand on his friends shoulder but he pushed it away. “Get away from me!” and just like that it happened. Jared pushed (M/N) causing him to fall on his back. Jared’s eyes widened as he realized what he had just done to his best friend. “(M/N)-”

“Fine.” (M/N) stood up again. There were noticeable bruises and scratches on his elbows and arms. “You want me gone. I’m gone.” With that (M/N) turned and walked away. Jared watched him leave and just felt himself get more frustrated. The two didn’t even seem to notice Sam Uley watching the entire encounter.

…

It had been months since Jared had first phased. The pack had grown much larger and he was Sam’s beta. He and (M/N) still hadn’t talked since that day in the parking lot. (M/N) tried to get in touch with him a few times but after a while he stopped. Jared missed hanging out with his best friend especially since he realized he liked him as more than a friend. He hated that he phased and couldn’t see him, he tried but Sam always stopped him saying it was dangerous. He just wanted things to go back to normal, or at least as much as they could.

The pack was currently on the beach having one of their many outings. The same beach Jared and (M/N) had watched the stars on. He thought back to that night and got a smile on his face. Paul, Jacob, Embry and Leah were all playing soccer while Sam, Emily and Seth were sitting on a blanket eating food. He watched Sam mess with Emily, they looked so happy. He missed (M/N).

Voices from down the beach made him look over. He watched as some kids arrived and set up some blankets, a few had surfing boards. They all looked like they came from Forks and were just wanting to have some fun on the beach. Then he noticed him, (M/N). He looked pretty much the same however he was more grown. He was surrounded by other people, who Jared guessed were his friends. Jared felt his feet start to move but stopped when Sam called him.

“Jared. Don’t go over there.”

“I just want to see how he’s doing.”

“You can’t and you won’t.” Sam said sternly.

Suddenly the soccer ball flew past Jared's head,landing on the ground and rolled far enough for it to bump (M/N)’s foot. (M/N) bent over and picked it up. He looked down the beach and saw a group of people, they called at him to throw the ball back. Throwing the ball in the air, (M/N) pulled his foot back and kicked the ball all the way back to them. Some of the pack cheered at his kick, they wanted to invite him to play but they knew they couldn’t. Sam would throw a fit.

Jared’s eyes met (M/N)’s and suddenly the noise of the crowded beach faded away. It was like he was being pulled in by an invisible rope. Suddenly his feet started to move on his own, he didn’t care about the shouts coming from Sam and the others. It didn’t take long before he was standing face to face with his best friend. “(M/N).”

(M/N) looked at Jared and his face held a hurt expression. Jared couldn’t help but feel pain from it. “Jared. What do you need?” He said in an uninterested tone.

“I just wanted to come and say hi. How have you been?”

(M/N) started frowning and furrowed his brows. “How have I been? How have I been!? It has been months since you last talked to me! And the last time we talked you pushed me away, literally! I tried to talk to you after, let you explain, but you didn’t want to. I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now, but I don’t want it.”

With that he walked off back towards his friends, leaving Jared standing there. He felt the dread of seeing his imprint leave him. Why shouldn’t he leave though, he hurt him. He felt a strong hand grab his shoulder and pull him back. Sam. “I told you not to go over there. You disobeyed a direct order!”

“Oh fuck off. I don’t care!” Jared pulled himself out of Sam’s grip before running off into the forest and shifting. Then he ran, and he didn’t stop.

…

A week had passed since the beach trip. He had barely talked with the pack and being away from his imprint was starting to show. He was barely eating and couldn’t get a lot of sleep. He needed to be near (M/N). He wanted to apologize. He just wanted his best friend back. Soon Jared stood outside (M/N)’s house, he shifted back into his human form and slipped on some shorts.

He picked up a couple small rocks before he started to throw them at his window. At first nothing happened. After a couple more tries (M/N) opened his window and looked out. He looked like he had been sleeping. “Jared? What are you doing here?”

“There’s something I want to tell you. Will you come with me?” He held his arm out, like (M/N) would be able to reach it.

For a while the other boy just stood there looking at him. Finally he sighed and closed his window. Not long after he was outside dressed up and followed Jared. They walked a while into the forest. “Jared I swear if you brought me out here to kill me, I will kill you first. Also I left a note back in my room saying I followed you out into the forest so the cops will be looking at you first.”

Jared laughed, the first time he laughed all week. (M/N) hadn’t changed at all. “Don’t worry, if I wanted to kill you I would do it in a much better place than the forest. Maybe Seattle, then I could blame it on drugs.” He heard (M/N) chuckle at that and felt warm. It was starting to feel like it had.

The two boys found themselves in a clearing in the forest. “Okay you have me out here. What did you want?” 

“There was a reason why I hadn’t talked to you in months. I wish I could say it was a good reason, but I don’t believe that. You don’t have to say anything, I just wanted to explain myself. Do you remember those legends I told you about? The ones with the cold ones and the shifters?”

(M/N) nodded. “Well...they’re true. I didn’t know they were until it happened. I’m one of those shifters.”

It was quiet for a bit before (M/N) talked. “Are you just trying to mess with me? I don’t think it’s funny, I could be home right now.” He turned around and started walking back.

“Wait!” Jared grabbed his arm, stopping him. He turned around to face him. “ I can prove it. Just...please don’t freak out.”

“Prove wha-” Before he could finish his sentence Jared walked backwards and shifted into his wolf form. (M/N) couldn’t move, He just watched his best friend he knew his whole life turn into a giant wolf in front of him. “Holy shit.” He stepped towards the wolf slowly. “Jared? Can you hear me?” The wolf nodded. He lifted his hand and brought it slowly onto the wolf’s head. “I-I can’t believe this. My best friend is a dog.”

Jared Huffed before he backed up and shifted back into his human form. He stood up and smiled. “I told ya. I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t.” He noticed (M/N) was blushing and smiling at him, then he felt the breeze. He looked down only to realize he was in fact naked and standing there in all of his glory in front of (M/N). He moved his hands to cover him. “Sorry, our clothes don’t change with us.”

“It’s alright. I like you like this.” Jared couldn’t help the blush that came to his face.

“I forgot to bring another pair of shorts.”

(M/N) smirked. “Lucky me.”

…

“Where are we going?”

(M/N) sat in the passenger's side of Jared’s car as he drove. It had been about 2 weeks since Jared told him and the two had rekindled their friendship. There was still a little bit of awkwardness but more or less things had returned to how they had been.

“You’ll see. We’re here anyways.” The car came to a stop at the same beach they had gone to that night before. “Help me get the things.”

It was just like that night all over again, they ate, they talked and at the end they watched the stars again. This time however it didn’t stop there.

“I really missed you, you know. I tried so many times to go see you, but everytime Sam stopped me. He said it was too dangerous and that I could hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt you but I knew I already had.”

He felt (M/N)’s hand slide into his. “I missed you too. There were so many times I thought I had done something wrong. I asked myself what I did wrong. I was so mad at myself because I lost you. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me.” Jared turned to look (M/N) in the eyes, still holding his hand. The bright night sky illuminated his face in different shades of blues and purples. “(M/N)-I really like you. Like, like-like you.”

(M/N) smiled leaned in. “I think I like-like you too.”

The two held onto each other for a long time. Just enjoying each other's company.

“Do you ever lick your balls in your dog form?”

“(M/N)!”

“Just had to ask! Also I’m taking that as a yes.”

“Oh my god.”

“Have you ever-”

“(M/N)!”

[yukiwrites]

Behavior, Making the Difference

Thank you for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse! This one was so fun to write, I hope you like it! I love exploring all of these different interactions!

Summary: Ricken, Lysithea and Hayato banded together due to their similar circumstances in their home world. They were now good classmates, who shared the same woes even in another world like Askr: why are they being looked down on, just because they were young?

Commission info HERE and HERE!

__________________________

The amount of Heroes being summoned in Askr grew day by day. The castle alloted to house the Order of Heroes had enough space for them all, yes, but there were some areas that a few groups of like-minded Heroes claimed for themselves.

For example, the western training grounds was now CHOP’s exclusive meeting spot. The eastern forest? Home to Heroes who would rather stay away from people to focus on calming their raging power. There was also a meadow past the southern garden, almost touching the outer wall, where the dragon-shifters liked to gather.

In the same manner, the central library was used as a classroom and gathering spot for the mages. It was big enough that classes could be taken on the second floor while others could quietly do their personal research on the first floor without one being a disturbance to the other.

Every other day, more experienced mages ministered classes on the second floor in favor of the apprentice mages. Merric’s was a particularly popular class due to how Young Merric also participated and asked many questions to his older self, which would extend the lecture for hours upon hours.

After class had finally ended, many of the students had stiff necks and sore legs for sitting up for so long. Be that as it may, one of the most eager students, Ricken, observed how Merric and his younger version interacted. On top of that, he noticed how younger Merric received different treatment whenever he went despite being the very same person who was just at the helm of the class.

Sure, the years of experience made a whole lot of difference, but younger Merric was in no way lacking in comparison to any other mage!

“Maybe it’s just ‘cause Merric’s tall.” Ricken grumbled to his deskmates, Lysithea and Hayato, as he looked up to his intentionally large hat.

Lysithea revised her notes calmly, resting her head on one hand. “At this point in time, young Merric has much more experience than Professor Merric had when he was that age. He’ll grow into a much stronger mage if he keeps up with this hunger for knowledge.”

Hayato nodded beside Lysithea, yawning loudly while he stretched his stiff muscles. “I do not know if it was due to the special summoning or if something different happened in his home world, but this young Merric has outstanding innate magical energy. It’s even larger than Professor Merric’s.”

“See? That’s what I’m saying. He’s much stronger than a lot of the adults, but he’s still treated like he’s not that capable because he’s young. They’re treating him like a little kid in favor of his older self!” Ricken protested with puffy cheeks.

“I do understand the hierarchy that comes with the territory of being a mage, so it’s not like I agree completely with you,” Lysithea pinched in, lifting her gaze to the red-haired young boy, “but I don’t disagree completely, either. They could treat him with the deserved respect of someone who holds that much power.”

“Though the man himself doesn’t seem to mind, unfortunately.” Hayato sat back down after cracking his neck a few times. “He sucks it all up, as though he himself feels unworthy of respect.”

“I suppose seeing how much you’ve grown can do that to people,” Lysithea mused, then mumbled so only herself could hear, “I’d be jealous if I wasn’t in such a hurry.”

Ricken’s cheeks only inflated more and more. Seeing people just like him, full of potential and stacking on accomplishments, being treated as less than they deserved made his blood boil. It reminded him of the constant ‘are-you-alright’s and ‘someone-your-age-should-rest-now’s he received on a daily basis.

“He shouldn’t be treated that way!” Ricken exclaimed, raising both fists up. “It’s the same everywhere! Back home, Chrom and everybody else treated me like a little, helpless kid and never saw how much I could do.”

Hayato crossed his arms, bobbing his head to the sides. “Just blow something in their vicinity; that will shut them up.”

“But I don’t want them to fear me! I want them to respect me! Besides, that’d probably just make them tell me I’m still too reckless for the battlefield.” Ricken’s shoulders dropped as he saw the exact scene being played in his mind, word by word.

“... Ah, you’re part of a specialized task force, right?” Hayato momentarily forgot that although the other two shared the same amount of potential and suffered from being berated by their ages, they weren’t the heirs of their tribes. He could get away with a lot of stuff because the heir was usually the strongest one, but that wasn’t the case with Ricken, who was simply one soldier amidst many.

Ricken sat back down, deflated. “Yeah, and there’s this other boy who got in after I did but no one treats him like they treat me! He’s only older than me by a few months, but everyone already sees him as a man and they never hold him back on doing stuff.”

Lysithea immediately remembered Petra, the princess of another country who studied with her under Byleth. They were both the SAME age, but no one treated Petra like a little kid. “... Is it the height?” She mumbled, though both of them heard it loud and clear.

… Oh.

It was the height.

Ricken took off his hat, then glanced up as though to remember how tall Donnel was compared to him.

… After a moment, he realized Donny was at least a head taller than himself.

“This is ridiculous!” However, Hayato was the one who slammed the table. He, too, was conscious of his height. “Bring it on, I’ll zap him with my magic and we’ll see-”

“Wait, wait, wait! I don’t wanna hurt my allies!” Ricken pulled on Hayato’s sleeve. “Besides, he’s not a mage, he’s- uh, I don’t know what he does exactly, but he’s a villager. Everyone trains with him and gives him tips and puts him on the frontlines without question… It’s unfair! I can hold my own, too!”

“That does seem like special treatment,” Lysithea nodded. “It’s unfair, but that only means that you have to overwhelm everyone with your effort. Study a lot and show them how good you can be to shut them all up.”

“Yeah... It’s my dream to be able to fight side-by-side with Chrom, but it’s not something for the far future. I can do it NOW, but they just don’t acknowledge me! It’s driving me nuts.”

Before the other two could reply, the sound of steps going up the stairs to the second floor interrupted them, which was unusual. It was an unspoken rule to use sound-muffling magic while walking around the library; not to mention that the second floor was commonly used for classes, so there shouldn’t be anyone going up at that moment, as the next class would only happen after dinner.

“C’monnn, up we go, Donny!” A familiar, peppy voice echoed. Soon, the blonde pigtails could be seen before the princess’ body: It was Lissa, Chrom’s sister and princess of Ylisse.

“W-wait, wait, Miss Lissa! I reckon we shouldn’ta be ‘ere now! Aren’t them egghead folks studyin’?” Being pulled by Lissa, Donnel held the pot on his head to hide his face, whispering in an attempt to be quiet.

“Nope, class was over a while ago, so now it’s Professor Lissa time! Take your seat, Donny, and let your big sister here teach you stuff!” She pulled out a monocle from her sleeve and a presentation stick from the other, pointing at the blank blackboard. “Now, todaaay we’ll learn about… Cloud formations!”

Apologetic, Donnel glanced around as he scratched the back of his neck, meeting Ricken’s, Hayato’s and Lysithea’s eyes as he sat down. He bowed to them before turning back to Lissa’s long winded explanation about Stratus clouds.

Lysithea’s expression turned cold as her optimal studying space had been breached. “Aren’t they from your world, Ricken? Don’t they know how this is a place of learning and not of fooling around?”

“Ah, um, yeah. He’s the boy I was talking about, too, but…”

“You said people don’t treat him like a kid, though? But look, even that young princess is making sure to even call him ‘little brother’...” Hayato commented, glancing between Ricken and the other two.

“I’m surprised, too. I only see people praising him and telling him to go to the frontlines more often. Princess Lissa can be annoy-erm, difficult to deal with, especially if you’re younger than her…” Ricken spoke with a jaded voice, as though he had experienced all of that first hand (he did). “I didn’t know Donny also went through that.”

Hayato cracked his fingers. “He doesn’t seem to be much older, just like you said.”

“Yup, I can only imagine they treat him differently because he wields a weapon, not magic. They might think I’m weaker than others just ‘cause I don’t have muscl-”

“That’s ridiculous.” Lysithea interrupted. “Mages are one of the most terrifying pieces of the battlefield. No one has any right to look down on a mage just because they’re more fragile than their weaponized peers.”

As both boys nodded, Ricken clutched his hands. “Yeah, but that’s the only conclusion I can come to, honestly. What IS the difference between us if not that? We’re basically the same age! I refuse to believe it’s because I’m- I… I’m s-shorter than him!”

As the three of them discussed, Donnel raised his hand to ask Lissa a question. “But ‘scuse me, ma’am, it’s the Nimbus kinda cloud tha’s the rainy one! Folks called ‘em that ‘cause no matter how fast you saw ‘em, they’d catch up with ya and wet all your laundry, that it would!”

“Weh? What? No! It’s the Cumulus one, I’m sure of it!” Lissa was bewildered for a moment before stomping her foot stubbornly. “I’m the older one here, so I know best, okay?”

Donnel scratched his head awkwardly. “B-b-buh… But the Cumulus kinda cloud’s the one’s looks likea’ tree, ain’t it? Mighty tasty-looking too, like a pretty treat I saw in one offa those fancy towns we gon ‘bout.”

“Nghhh!” Lissa shook with embarrassment and mortification. That wasn’t the first NOR the second time Donnel corrected her during her ‘classes’. She was the older sister here, darn it all!

In between the three mages, the princess and the villager boy, none of them could truly fathom the reason why people treated Donnel differently, despite their close ages. In other circumstances, perhaps, Lissa would be sitting at the table alongside Ricken, Hayato and Lysithea. However, since that was not the case, the group was fated to observe the duo.

If they had just a little more self-awareness, they might have realized that the simple and obvious reason was only one’s behavior and humility.

But perhaps, they were all still too young to realize...

[angst-fairygodmother]

Idiot (Affectionate) ~ A Bad Samaritan Fic

CHAPTER ONE: FIRST DAY

When your cousin Sean and his friend start up a valet business at Nino’s, where you work as a waitress, you don’t expect it to lead to any of what happens next.

Pairing: Derek Sandoval x Reader Word Count: 1893 Rating: T - mild language, reference to harassment

Masterlist

“So, how does it feel, your first big boy job?” you teased, elbowing your cousin in the ribs. 

“Oh haha,” Sean drawled, swatting at you. “You’re hilarious.”

“And adorable.” You dodged out his reach, and the two of you proceeded to chase each other around the podium for several minutes.

“I’m serious though, Sean. Suggesting Nino start doing valet parking, organizing the whole thing. I think it’s great. Better than car washes and dog walking. It shows initiative, and it’ll get Don off your back a bit.”

“How’d you know that was one of the goals?”

“Because I know you. Really, my only disappointment is that you brought him along.” You gestured over your shoulder to Derek who was just walking up. 

“Hey, come on now!” he cried.

“Derek’s my best mate, you know that Y/N,” Sean sighed. “And I think you two would get along if you gave him a chance.”

“Yeah, but he’s so...him,” you sighed, making a face of mock disgust. 

“Yo, hold up, what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Are you sure you want me to answer that question?” You cocked an eyebrow at him, whether he took it as a warning or challenge was up to him.

“Yeah. If you got a problem with me, I wanna know what it is.” 

“I don’t have a problem with you, per se. It’s just that...you’re arrogant, and loud. Not even your voice, just, the way you are. You act like you’re hot shit, but you’re not half as clever as you think.”

He scoffed in disbelief and even though you knew you should leave it there, something made you want to keep pushing, almost to see what happened if you got him riled enough. 

“If you were, you wouldn’t be working nothing but a string of dead-end jobs.” You shrugged. “Frankly, I think both of you are wasting considerable talent being valets instead of looking at the bigger picture.”

“Wait, hang on!” Sean protested. “A minute ago you were praising my initiative.”

“Better to start your own idea than working someone else’s, sure, but I was mostly trying to be nice.” You flashed an apologetic grimace, nose wrinkling. “You’re my favorite cousin and I love you?” you continued in a rush, hoping to cover up your admission of insincerity with charm.

Sean rolled his eyes fondly at you.

“Well if you’re so smart, how come you ain’t doin any better? You’re just like us, Miss Waitress,” Derek said mockingly.

“Except I’m doing this because textbooks cost like four hundred bucks a piece and I don’t have an extra kidney to sell. Unless you’re going to give me yours?” You gave him another challenging look before sighing. “As soon as I have that degree in my hand, I am outta here.”

“Some of us got families to take care of, can’t just run away when we get bored.”

“I…” you took a deep breath, deflating. “I didn’t mean it like that. All I was trying to say is I know Sean’s got talent and someone else is bound to notice eventually, and there’s probably a brain in that head of yours somewhere. I find it hard to believe that you want to do this for life. Family first sure, I get it, but don’t you want...don’t you deserve more?”

Derek and Sean both frowned, unsure of how to answer you. Of course neither of them wanted to be valets or car washers or grocery baggers forever. But they had bills to pay, food and rent and electricity to afford. If they didn’t keep up with here and now, all the bigger picture thinking and dreaming of the future in the world wasn’t going to help. 

Something inside the restaurant caught your eye and you shook your head.

“I should probably get in there. Nino’s got Val doing place settings, and we probably don’t want to be auctioning off butter knives.” You shoved your hands in the pockets of your black slacks and flashed them both a smile. “Good luck tonight.”

Derek made no secret of staring at your ass as you walked away, a fact that Sean definitely noticed. 

“Come on, seriously?” he asked his friend, making a gesture of both annoyance and defeat.

“What dawg? Your cousin’s kind of a bitch sometimes, but she’s hot as hell. I’m just appreciating.”

~

“Nino,” one of the chefs asked a few days later. “How come you don’t feed those two boys parking cars? You feed everyone else. They must be starved out there all night.”

Nino looked thoughtful, as if it hadn’t occurred to him before. You frowned, loading your tray with table seven’s appetizers. 

“Well, they don’t really work for Nino like the rest of us, do they? They’re independent contractors,” you pointed out.

“Cold, Y/N,” the busboy, John, teased. “Throwing your cousin under the bus.”

You shrugged, weaving your way out of the kitchen. “If he wants food he should learn to put it in his contract.”

About an hour later, Nino was flagging you over, for the third time that night.

“Y/N, Y/N,” he said, rushed. “No one is eating the lasagna.”

“I can try to push more of it, talk it up or something?” you offered, not sure why he was telling you.

“No, no. It’s fine. I just don’t want to see it go to waste.” He smiled like an idea was suddenly dawning on him. “Why don’t you take some to the boys out front. David is right, they must be hungry.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh. You should have suspected as soon as it was brought up that Nino would cave. Nodding, you went back to the kitchen to relay the order and wait.

With the two plates, rolled silverware tucked in your apron pocket, you made easy work of weaving through the restaurant and elbowing open the doors, only to grimace uncomfortably when you realized it was just Derek at their podium.

“Hey,” you said awkwardly, making him jump in surprise. “Uh...Nino thought you might be hungry and no one was eating the lasagna so he sent me out with some for you and Sean...where is Sean?”

“He’s just parking somebody, he’ll be back in a minute. Nino’s givin' us free food?” you tried to suppress a smile at the excitement in his voice. 

“No, I just brought these out to taunt you,” you joked, rolling your eyes as you handed him one of the plates and dug into your pocket for his fork. 

You were silent for a minute, shifting awkwardly, from foot to foot, still holding Sean’s plate and not sure what to do with it.

“About what I said the other night,” you said finally, chewing on your lip. 

Derek stopped, fork halfway to his mouth and looked at you.

“I may have been...unreasonably harsh…” you said hesitantly. “And I…”

The words died on your throat as you found yourself wondering if you were actually sorry. You felt guilty, but you still meant what you said. Sean and Derek were both smart people, and you thought they could do better. You had been working at Nino’s since you were nineteen, and had seen so many people insist that a job was just temporary, only to still be there almost a decade later. You didn’t want to see that happen to either of them. 

You were trying to remind yourself that it wasn’t about you, when Derek cut through your thoughts.

“Don’t sweat it, I’ve already forgotten,” he said. “It’s all good bro.”

“Oh.” He seemed so genuine in his reassurance and you weren’t sure what to do with that. Instead you changed the subject. “Where is Sean? Shouldn’t he be able to park a car quickly if he’s going to be a valet?”

“I can just hold onto his food, if you gotta get back in there.”

“Please,” you shook your head. “I’m in no rush to return to Awkward First Date, Going to Ask for a Divorce Any Second, or Family With the Twins from The Shining.” 

“How come you only got three tables when the place is packed? Don’t you handle five or six like a breeze?”

 “I got moved off two, one of them was my fault. So instead I get anyone that wants to eat at the bar. And my section has the last empty table. How’d you know how many tables I usually have?”

“Uh...I overheard some people talking when I went for a smoke break.” His eyes shifted to the side, avoiding your curious look.

“Riight.” You nodded exaggeratedly. There was no way in hell you believed that, unless they’d been gossiping about you losing tables, but he didn’t seem to know about that. 

“Anyway, why’d they get pulled?”

“The one that was my fault or the one that wasn’t?”

“Both,” he sighed, making a somewhat impatient gesture. “Sean is out parking the first car that’s showed up in an hour. Talkin’ to you’s at least something to do.”

“Glad to know I rank above staring at the sidewalk or counting the windows across the street.” You rolled your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant.” 

You leaned back, resting your elbows against the edge of the podium, bringing your faces surprisingly close together. He shoveled a bite of food into his mouth to distract himself from that fact, and the things he was thinking he could do.

“Couple of suit-and-ties celebrating some sort of business deal. One of them asked the new kid if she was on the menu, a few other lewd comments. They made her really uncomfortable, so Nino switched us around, figuring I could handle it.” You shrugged. “Same guy got a little...grabby for things that aren’t his. Nino spotted it and decided to take over the table himself. That’s one down.”

Derek frowned. He’d known plenty of people that worked in restaurants. Managers, and owners especially, didn’t typically move someone off a table for a little handsiness. But maybe Nino was one of the rare ones that went above and beyond for his staff. And if not and you didn’t want to tell him the whole thing, who was he to judge?

“The other was a complaint that I was ‘belligerent.’”

“But you’re cuddlier than a kitten, how could they ever think that?” he laughed. 

You stuck your tongue out at him childishly, laughing along. 

“All I did was correct them on my name,” you protested. “...every time they called me Sweetcheeks.”

For some reason, this only made Derek laugh harder, nearly choking on a mouthful of pasta. 

“Definitely not hostile.”

“Whatever, you dick.” You shoved him playfully and suddenly the two of you froze.

This was a shift in dynamic, a tipping point. Would he let you get away with it and tilt the scale from acquaintance to friendship? Or would he take offense? 

Sean found you in that waiting tension, shattering it with his greeting as he finally returned from parking the car. You awkwardly explained the meal delivery and sighed that you had to get back to work, someone would come get the dishes in a bit. 

Derek locked eyes with you as you turned to go. You flashed a quick smile back. 

“Did I miss something?” you heard Sean ask, lilt exaggerated by his confusion.