#what happens to those pink scissor club shirts now

[buttdawg]

Bang Bang Scissor Gang

I'm not sure how to feel about this "supergroup" business. I mean, the crowd loves it and it sounds like it'll advance the plot, so it's probably a good thing, but it seems a little off somehow. I'm going to write about it for a bit and see if I can sort this out.

So I guess the main issue here is that Bullet Club Gold doesn't feel like it's been around all that long, and now they're combining with another group. Also, it's unclear whether Gold is an official wing of the main Bullet Club, or some sort of renegade unit, like the nWo Wolfpac.

My pet theory is that AEW is just getting as much out of the Bullet Club IP as they can while they have this agreement with NJPW to use it. Eventually the deal will end or be renegotiated, and New Japan won't let them use the name anymore, which is why AEW keeps referring to the group with the nickname "The Bang Bang Gang." If something falls through and they can't call it "Bullet Club Gold", there's a backup name ready to go.

Actually, maybe this supergroup angle is that scenario finally playing out. They're not calling it "Bullet Club Ass Boys" or "Scissor Club Gold". They're calling it "Bang Bang Scissor Gang". I was sort of wondering if this means Billy and the Acclaimed have joined Bullet Club, but this may actually be a transition to get Jay White's group away from BC altogether. If and when this union ends, Jay can just start calling it "The Bang Bang Gang" again like that's what it was always called.

From a storytelling perspective, I'm not sure why they're setting up two trios to join forces against a group of just four guys. Undisputed Kingdom is their common enemy, but right now it's just Wardlow, Roderick Strong, Matt Taven, and Mike Bennett. Adam Cole's injured, but even if he gets cleared, they're still outnumbered. Maybe Kyle O'Reily or Bobby Fish will join at some point? Oh, and I forgot about Juice Robinson. Assuming he's on board with the merger, that puts BBSG up to seven guys. Then you factor in Cardblade and Juiceboard and things get really nutty.

The motives are bit wonky too. On paper, Bang Bang Scissor Gang's main purpose is to take on Undisputed Kingdom, to avenge all the beatdowns they got during the "Who is the Devil?" storyline. Except, Undisputed Kingdom doesn't seem to care much, since their goal is to capture a bunch of titles. Which works out, since BBSG holds the AEW and ROH trios belts... except UK doesn't seem very interested in trios gold.

On the other hand, BBSG wants more titles as well. Tag titles for the Acclaimed and Gunn Club, a singles belt for Billy, and nothing short of the AEW world title for Jay White. This sounds a lot like Adam Cole's manifesto when he did his first promo to introduce Undisputed Kingdom. He didn't just want belts, he had specific titles picked out for specific guys on his team. Taven and Bennett are already ROH tag champs, so they're covered, then he wants the International title on Roddy, and Warlow's job is t become AEW world champ so he can hand it over to Adam Cole when Cole's cleared to wrestle again.

So that's a cool way to keep this rivalry alive. They're two big groups who already have titles and crave more, and they can challenge each other or interfere with each other's ambitions. The grudge that started all of this is fine, but it's hard to recall those beatdowns from last year, especially when everyone was blaming it on MJF at the time. Billy taking an International title shot from Roddy keeps things fresh. Plus they can swap the tag and trios belts that both sides already control.

Or... this just peters out with BBSG imploding and setting up some trios feud with Billy/Acclaimed taking on Jay/Gunn Club for one or both sets of trios belts. That sounds fine, but I feel like that already happened at some point? This supergroup could be a way to build to a more epic six-man tag match later, and that's fine, but I really hope it doesn't play out that way. I guess that's what makes me apprehensive of this storyline. Like, if they're only building up this supergroup just to set up a trios title program a few months from now, then it'll feel like a real waste. They could do BC Gold vs. Scissor Party whenever they want. Both sides are pretty eager to issue and accept challenges.

This seems like a long term story. Both groups have declared their intentions very clearly, and yet they've both taken their time on achieving those goals. It took like three weeks to get Jay on board with BBSG, and Warlow isn't exactly calling out Samoa Joe. So it feels like a potboiler, except it also feels very thrown-together, like they took a bunch of guys and threw them together into this supergroup war that would probably need most of a year to do properly.

But I guess that makes sense, considering how this all started with Cole and MJF, and they're both out of action for a while. Whatever the original plans were, the new plan has to involve different players, and everybody in BBSG is a solid choice for that. Well, everyone but Juice Robinson, that guy sucks. I hope he comes back with some new personality where he took an oath of silence or something. Also, he should wear a luchador mask so I don't have to look at his goofy face.

I guess my feeling here is "cautious optimism", because this angle looks really promising and could lead to a lot of great matches, but it also could get really dumb if it ends too quickly or suffers from poor planning. But AEW did just book a round robin tournament, so I guess I shouldn't be too concerned...

[trentaafcsblog]

Take Your Daddy To School Day

Trent Alexander-Arnold

This is my entry for the lovely @footballffbarbiex’s writing challenge 🤍 thank you so much for letting me take part, I hope you all enjoy it and please go and have a look if it’s something that you might be interested in - there’s some lovely prompts still to choose from x

It’s been a good what...seventeen, maybe eighteen, years since Trent was sat on the yellow table in the Hedgehogs Class? The classroom still has exactly the same name and layout as it did when he was there all those years ago. The same blue felt tip stain on the bottom of one of the walls from where the boy in the year above ‘accidentally’ wrote his name in his four-year-old squiggly handwriting, and the water tray still being full of the same plastic dinosaurs that he used to chase his friends with when it was time for creative play. The name pegs by the front windows are still where they used to be too. Teeny tiny wooden hedgehogs glued above the multicoloured hooks, a white label stuck beneath them with all of the children’s names on. And obviously your little girl’s coat and bag hang on the first peg, just like Trent’s used to, because they’re ordered alphabetically, a wave of nostalgia hitting him because he used to love hanging his belongings there as it meant he was the first to leave at the end of the day - and it just so happens that your little girl has also picked up on her daddy’s habits when it comes to wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Put your knees under the table, daddy” she’s tutting as T does everything he can to squash them under the yellow-topped desk without accidentally flipping it and sending the pot of scissors, glue sticks and blunt pencils across the room. His cheeks turning a dark shade of pink when your little girl’s teacher spots him shuffling around awkwardly and trying to disguise the fact that he’s in absolute agony, only intensifying when your daughter insists on pointing out daddy’s ‘raspberry face’ to the little boy sat on the table behind. But eventually he’s managing to do it, although the little plastic chair he’s sat on is now threatening to collapse, the metal legs bowing slightly each time he leans more to one side to help your little girl with her work or has to turn around when one of the children gasps and points before not so quietly whispering ‘that’s the man that kicks a football’.

“Daddy, you can do this one” she’s announcing as they plough their way through the worksheet they’ve been given to complete by lunchtime. “But I’ve just done all of these ones” he’s giggling as he points to the group of maths questions he’s just answered because he knows your little girl struggles with her numbers and he’s too soft to let her sit and find the answer on her own. “But you’re cleverer than me” she smiles, hoping that her compliment persuades Trent to write the answer down, not that he needs any sort of persuasion because he’s already scribbling down the answer, but she’s already picked up on the fact that if you’re nice to people, they’ll be nice to you - something she definitely uses to her advantage. 

They’re both managing to finish the work before the bell rings for lunch, a miracle really since they've been interrupted every two minutes by one of other dads having a fangirl moment or one of the mums trying their best to impress Trent with their very limited football knowledge, obviously hoping that he’s blown away by it and runs off into the sunset with them. But regardless, they’re getting it done in time and heading off to the lunch hall together hand in hand. Trent carrying both of their lunch boxes and politely waving to the screaming children in the classrooms they walk past, your little girl still too innocent to understand why daddy attracts so much attention, hence the string of ‘why are they shouting at yous?’ as they make their way into the dining hall.

They’re sitting opposite each other on one of the collapsible tables with little blue seats. The smell of whatever unappetising it is being served for lunch filling their noses and making Trent feel quite sick, acting as a reminder as to why he refused to eat school dinners and instead stuck to his cream cheese sandwiches that were wrapped up in his Spider-Man lunch box. “Cheers” your little girl’s giggling as she smashes her jam sandwich against Trent’s tuna one, both of them cut into tiny little squares which T had begged you not to do, but it’s not really a ‘take your dad to school day’ if he doesn’t eat the same as the children, is it? Which is exactly why the Liverpool shirt shaped lunch box he picked up from the club shop on the way home from training the other night is full of a packet of Mini Cheddars, a strawberry Frube yoghurt (even though he tried to pretend that he didn’t like them), two tangerines to try and balance out the sugar in the Mr Kipling angel cake, and a Capri Sun which he has no shame in admitting that he absolutely loves. 

Their twenty minute playtime afterwards is consisting of Trent taking on the rest of the school in a football match, but obviously it’s not cool to be seen playing football with your dad in front of all of your friends, hence why your little girl is deciding to engage in a very in-depth discussion about last night’s episode of Peppa Pig instead, occasionally turning around to see if T’s still winning, which obviously he is, despite having about a hundred children slide tackling into him and pulling his shirt. “Are you not proud of me?” he’s saying jokingly as he makes his way off the pitch and over to your baby girl who’s pretending that she can’t see Trent leaping around in front of all of her friends, all because he beat a bunch of five year olds at his own job. “Daddy, stop!” she’s giggling, grateful for the few curls around the edge of her face that mask her blushing cheeks because seeing your daddy show everyone up is one thing, but now having him flexing about it is another. 

They’re making their way back to the Hedgehogs Class when the bell rings to signal the end of lunchtime. A few parents leaping in front of the two of them on the way to congratulate Trent on his most recent performances and awards, causing even more confusion for your little girl because since when has the whole world known about daddy and his job? And why is Jacob’s mummy, who always causes a scene in the playground when she sees someone wearing a football shirt because it’s ‘tacky’ and ‘the most pathetic sport’, suddenly so interested in a game that she tells everyone she hates? Or is she just interested in Trent? Who knows.

The two of them are spending the rest of the day doing creative play, flicking between playing with the dinosaurs in the water table, to making you a card for no other reason than because they love you, to creating one another out of red and yellow PlayDoh - something Trent won’t be doing again because he’s convinced himself that he looks like the slightly disfigured model that your daughter has made - one foot three times the size of the other, an unfortunate bulge on the top of his head, and arms that are extremely long and skinny. And his doubts aren’t going away because your little girl keeps reinforcing the fact that ‘it’s you, daddy’, much to the amusement of all of the other parents who giggle away at how disappointed and awkward he looks after being compared to crusty piece of five-year-old PlayDoh.

“I had fun with you being a big boy at school today” she’s saying as she walks hand in hand with Trent over to her peg, his dad instinct coming out as he helps her put her coat on and pack her book bag. “Did you?” he’s asking, his heart melting into a puddle when she nods her head and gives him a little smile. “I had so much fun too, even if you did splash me at the water table” he’s saying, tickling her sides and making her giggle at the memory of the plastic dinosaur ‘accidentally’ dropping from above her head right into the water in front of him. “Shall we go and tell mummy about today then?” he’s saying as he reaches down and takes her hand in his before the two of them are stepping out into the playground together, your little girl bursting with excitement ready to tell you all about their day and how Trent now has a gold star stuck on the wall for being the ‘cleverest at knowing all of the dinosaurs’ names’.

[givemestories-givemelife]

Blueberries, Lavender & Hot Matcha Tea  (Part 2)

A SasuHina ficlet

PART 1| Part 2

AN: THANK YOU SO MUCH TO THOSE WHO COMMENTED, OR RE-BLOGGED, OR LIKED THE FIRST PART TO THIS FIC. It truly means more than I can say. Helped a lot with motivation and it’s super cool to know that people are reading the things I write. I hope the follow up chapter doesn’t disappoint <3

Summary: Hinata has a run in with a familiar face.

Warnings: Brief mentions of grief and anxiety (because Hinata’s a nervous butterfly) but nothing remotely heavy. Also there’s alcohol consumption.

Word count: 6167

                                   __________________________

Lavender

Hinata knows that she needs to start putting herself out there. She can’t stay holed up comfortably in her room while years of her life pass on by, listening to cigarettes after sex under the safe warmth of her white fluffy blanket that still smells like her late mothers perfume, and sniffing essential oils like they’re some kind of soft-core drug to distract her spiralling thoughts from every embarrassingly mortifying predicament she’s ever found herself in.

She’s been trying really hard not to think about spilling her extra hot matcha latte all over this potentially handsome stranger a few days ago. She thinks - potentially - because she did not have the courage to look at the man's face after maiming him and probably ruining his expensive suit!

Hinata’s sure she must have ruined his entire morning, which must have ruined his whole day, and now he probably hates her. Oh goodness, Hinata strongly dislikes the thought of people out there in this world walking around hating her.  

Wow, these thoughts are entirely useless, she really needs to stop her brain from going down these awful paths.  

Today Hinata has decided to try really hard not to wallow in the comfort of all her numbing guilty pleasures.  

So, when Sakura Haruno, the loud and outgoing girl with pretty pink hair, who always smells like strawberries and vanilla from her photography course asked if she wanted to hangout and work on their portfolio’s after class; Hinata was thankful for the distraction.

They had spent that afternoon drinking green tea at the kitchen table in Sakura’s little homey apartment, showing each other their favourite pieces and sharing feedback.

“You have to include this one, it’s so cute” Sakura gushes, pointing at a print of children finger painting; a mischievous little boy is smearing bold red paint all over the face of a girl whose expression is twisted in pure terror.

“You have a real talent for capturing the essence of people.” She continues in a dreamy tone, “it’s like you’re able to capture the moment they’re most alive, even if it’s just the little moments, y’know?”  

Hinata blushes at the complement, “th-thank you Sakura.”

“It's kind of ironic that people are your main muse considering how afraid of them you are.” She teases.

“I’m not sca-AhyH!”

Of course, that’s the moment a woman with a giant blond ponytail barges through the door brandishing a bouquet of peonies making Hinata squeal. “Sakura I swear to god if you ate the last of the ice-cream again, I’m gonna- Oh! hello there.” The crazy flower lady stops mid-threat noticing a stranger in her apartment.

“Ino this is Hinata from class, Hinata this is my roommate Ino.” Sakura introduces, failing to constrain her laughter.

Ino’s demeanor does a 180 as she gently rests the flowers on her lacquered kitchen counter and approaches Hinata in a trance like state. “Your hair is so long and gorgeous, it totally reminds me of the violets we have at the flower shop -- you have to let me braid it.” She breathes and Hinata’s eyes are as wide as the sky outside.

“Ino, tone it down you’re going to scare her.” Sakura chides, rolling her eyes, not at all surprised by her roommate's antics. “Do you always have to act like such a spazz?”

“I am but a simple girl who is a slave to all things beautiful.” Ino proudly counters running her fingers through blue strands and Hinata mentally notes that she smells like a garden.

Sakura’s phone vibrates on the kitchen table, “it’s Naruto,” she says glancing at the screen. “Wondering when we’ll be coming over.”

“I don’t know, an hour or two? Tell him we’re bringing Hinata!” Ino adds excitedly and starts to braid blue hair without permission. “You should come out tonight with Sakura and I, meet the rest of the gang.”

“Oh.” In high school Hinata was never able to make friends with girls, and spent most of her time in the photography club’s black room developing pictures. Her introverted nature made it difficult to connect with people, but in this moment, the prospect of meeting Sakura’s friends, and the inclusive enthusiasm from these girls is making Hinata a little emotional. “I-I don’t know.”  

“Hinata, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but I think it could be good for you,” Sakura encourages.

“Carpe diem bitch,” is Ino’s convincing addition.

Hinata giggles, absent mindedly sniffing her wrist searching for the comforting sweet scent of the fragrance she’s wearing today, “yeah, okay.”

Ino makes a pleased sound and saunters over to a kitchen drawer to snatch a pair of scissors and clips the head off of one the peonies, then ties it into the base of Hinata’s braid. “You really have no idea how cute you are Hinata,” she coos observing her work in admiration and Hinata feels warm all over.

Hinata likes the rapport between Ino and Sakura, there’s something about their friendship that she finds inspiring.  

When they split what’s left of the chocolate ice-cream and start getting ready for a night out, Hinata can’t help pulling out her camera and snapping shots of Ino with her shades of purple and Sakura’s vibes in red. Hinata feels outshined in her usual high waisted mom jean and oversized grey patterned sweater.  

But that’s okay, she still feels like one of the girls.

~~~

Ino had made a strong case for wanting to get her steps in for the day, (since her fitbit said she had only reached 8243 so far) convincing the girls to walk to Naruto’s apartment instead of taking the bus. On their stroll Sakura and Ino began giving Hinata character profiles of everyone she was going to meet and Hinata found them to be quite amusing.

Ino playfully starts with, “Shikamaru’s like, my best bro. I’ve known him forever, smartest guy I know but a total stoner and he doesn’t give a fuck about anything.

“Choji gives the best hugs and he loves giving them, so if he looks like he’s going in for one - just let it happen - you’ll hurt his feelings if you don’t.”

“Naruto and Kiba are basically the same person and are the biggest loudest dorks on the planet,” Sakura chimes in, “but they’re also super friendly and kinda funny if you can get over their lack of brain cells.”

“Then there’s Sasuke,” Ino says, and hearing that name strikes a familiar chord with Hinata, triggering flashes of fond memories. “He’s really hot, but kind of a dick,” Ino hugs herself smiling at a distant memory, “basically, we all know each other from going to the same high school -”

“Ino and I had the hugest rivalry back then because we both wanted him.”  

“What happened?” Hinata really wanted to ask if they were talking about Sasuke Uchiha, but didn’t want to interrupt the momentum of their story.

“We were so stupid causing all sorts of drama in our little social circle nearly tearing it apart, and Sasuke wasn’t having any of it, one day he told us to grow the fuck up and to leave him alone.” That did kind of sound like something Sasuke would say, but that would just be too big of a coincidence, wouldn’t it?

“We both cried.” Sakura snickers sheepishly.

“Eventually we finally realized that friendships should be forever-”

“And boyfriends are whatever.” Both girls enthusiastically finish the rehearsed line making silly faces at each other.

Hinata giggles at that, whishing she had taken a picture, “awe, that’s so cute.”

“And now he’s one of our good friends, but I just want to warn you that he can be cold and he can be mean and if he says something dickish, please don’t take it personally.”

Hinata hums, only half listening to Ino. Was it possible that when Hinata arrives at this apartment she was going to be face to face with the childhood friend she hasn’t seen in over a decade?  

Guess she’ll just have to wait and see.

~~~

When Hinata enters the apartment, her senses are immediately overstimulated; it smells salty like ramen and sour with beer which clashes with how clean and pristine the space actually is. It’s decorated with blacks, whites and a few splashes of colors, but overall has a very minimalist feel.

Hinata barely has time to kick her shoes off before she’s surrounded by strangers, and can’t stop the heat from suffusing her face from the disorienting barrage of unwanted attention.  

“Hey bitches!” Ino yells at the group, “we’re here! We know you missed us!”

“This is the beautiful Hinata,” Sakura adds, and Hinata really wants to hide under a rock somewhere. “Be nice okay, she’s really shy.”

“Hey I’m Naruto.” A blond man appears beaming at her, outstretching his hand. “I have never seen eyes that look like your eyes before!”

“Oh.” Hinata went to shake his hand but was interrupted by another hand grabbing hers and kissing it, which is so uncalled for.

“And I’m Kiba, don’t listen to that guy, he’s a complete moron.” He says with a wolfish grin and Hinata has no idea what’s going on anymore.

When she tries to turn away, she’s met with the kind face of a stout man in a green Zelda t-shirt with his arms wide open for an inviting hug. She decides to accept her fate by awkwardly stepping forward wearing a confused pout, and lets the arms of a stranger wrap around her in what is surprisingly one of the best hugs she has ever received. He smells nice, Hinata thinks. Savoury and warm like a thanksgiving dinner. For a moment she actually feels safe, like a veil has been thrown over the sudden wave of chaos, giving her a quiet moment for her heartbeat to settle, “I’m Choji, it’s really nice to meet you Hinata, try not to worry so much, everyone here is harmless, I promise.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on her back.

When Choji pulls away, he sends her one last reassuring smile before padding off towards the ponytailed man currently dying of laughter, and joining him on a leather couch. Choji grabs a handful of potato chips from a bowl on the marble coffee table and starts earnestly snacking.

Snacks! Snacks sound really nice right now! Tasting tasty things can sometimes be a good distraction when Hinata is overwhelmed. She self-consciously shuffles forward towards the provisions, drawn towards the colorful array of fresh fruits, grabbing a small handful of blueberries and popping one of them in her mouth. She tries to ignore the pair legs in her periphery... she needs a moment before making another introduction.

Hinata jumps feeling a presence directly behind her, she twirls around to see Naruto pulling back appearing extremely guilty.

What was he doing?  Was he pointing at her hair?

“Hehehe, sorry about that,” he says, smiling sheepishly, and scratches the back of his head, “I was just pointing out to my friend here, how beautiful your hair is, what a wonderful shade of blue,” he made a weird face directed at someone over her head, “are you enjoying those, blueberries?”

Okay.

Hinata hears more laughter coming from ponytail boy on the couch.

Weird.

Hinata turns to see who Naruto is looking at and-

Oh.

Sasuke?

Sasuke was here.  

It was her Sasuke!

She instantly looks away, eyes wide, staring down at the hardwood floors.

Well, not her Sasuke. But an older version of the one she knew as a child. The one she met that one summer years ago and spent nearly every day with him before her mother fell ill and her family moved away in the wake of tragedy.

And he was... Glaring at her? No, he was glaring at Naruto? He kind of looked like he recognized her, but why would he be glaring?

“This is fucking stupid,” Sasuke seethes and takes off towards the kitchen, where Kiba and Ino are talking and drinking.

Ouch.

Sakura approaches Hinata with a glass in hand, Hinata stares at the ice clinking as she offers it, “vodka soda, with lime?”

Well, one drink couldn’t hurt, Hinata thinks.

She glances over at a brooding Sasuke leaning on the kitchen island sipping his beer.

She might need it.

~~~

It’s nearly an hour later and Hinata feels the dread sinking deep into the pit of her stomach. She desperately wishes she could conjure up some courage, approach Sasuke, and see how he’s been after all these years, but he still hasn’t left from his spot in the kitchen.  

She’s starting to believe that maybe he doesn’t recognize her, which is a rather sad thought.

Hinata also appears to be at the butt end of some sort of mean inside joke that she doesn’t understand, ponytail bo- Shikamaru and Naruto joined Sasuke in the kitchen and kept making not-so-subtle glances her way -- but whatever -- she’s a big girl, she’s not going to cry about it even if she wants to.

Currently she’s sitting on the puffy leather couch between Choji and Sakura, Sakura is sharing the memes she’s saved onto her phone this month with Ino and Kiba while Hinata stares down at the melting ice in her drink and Choji attempts to calm her with platitudes.

Hinata doesn’t regret coming tonight despite feeling like the biggest fool in existence.

After all, tonight she actually has the opportunity to reconnect with someone she still thinks about, even after all these years.

She has always wondered what had happened to that bratty boy she met that one summer.

The sinking feeling grows deeper and Hinata feels her heart beating in the drums of her ears.

She takes one last tentative sip before downing the rest of her drink and summons every ounce of bravery she didn’t know she had to strengthen her resolve.

She stands from the couch with shaky determination ignoring Choji’s concerned inquiry, then forces one foot in front of the other strait towards the guiding bright lights of the kitchen.

The easy conversation awkwardly dies down when she arrives beside Naruto and Sasuke. She feels both their gazes land on her, and Hinata spots an ugly orange magnet on the stainless-steel fridge Sasuke is leaning on that has the phrase - believe it! - stamped on it and chooses to direct most of her focus on the positive affirmation.

“Uh, hey Hinata, you doing okay?” Naruto asks, slightly taken aback. Hinata nods still focusing on the magnet, face heating up as the beginning of a buzz tingles in the corners of her mind. “Can I get you another drink?”

She looks down at the empty glass she grips and nods again, muttering a quiet thank you, and handing it over. He takes it and moves further down the island to chat with Shikamaru and starts making her another.

“Hi Sasuke,” she forces passed her chapped lips.

“Hello Hinata.” Sasuke says, sounding about as uncomfortable as she feels and she looks up, hopeful, to meet his burning gaze and quickly looks back at that stupid orange magnet.

“So, you do remember me?” She asks, confused as to why he’s been ignoring her since her arrival.

“I remember how two days ago you ran into me quite rudely, burning me with tea.”

Hinata’s brain short-circuits.  

“Wait what!?-”

No! No no no no no. Impossible. No.

“-That- that was you? oh my god, oh no! I am so sorry about that, I really wasn’t looking where I was going, I-I can’t believe this, I swear you just came out of nowhere though, oh my goodness, I can’t believe that was-”  

“Please just stop before you give yourself an aneurysm.” Sasuke lifts his hands in a placating manner and Hinata snaps her mouth shut. “So that’s not how you seem to know me?” He asks, further rankling as the conversation drags on.

“So you don’t remember me.” She says mostly to herself, completely humiliated by this entire exchange, every time she opens her mouth it’s like falling down a flight of stairs -- Hinata seriously wishes she would reach the bottom already.

“Remember you from... where?”  

“I-I mean I guess it’s not that surprising, we were only nine or ten at the time and it-it was only one summer... over a decade ago... You-you never really did call me by my name either.” Hinata says focusing on her twiddling fingers, her voice barely above a whisper, a pensive smile framing her lips at the memory.

There’s a long drawn out silence before Sasuke slowly asks, “...Tomato face?”  

Hinata feels her face burn red at the old moniker, nodding. “Yeah...”

“Hyuuga, Hinata. Shit. Yeah. I do remember.”

The culminating tension finally releases from the moment and Hinata smiles at the black and white tiles breathing just a little bit easier.

He remembers.

“Wait... Did I hear you call her a tomato?” Naruto returns with a mildly amused Shikamaru in tow, handing Hinata her drink, and looks between the pair completely intrigued.

~~~

It didn’t take long for the word to spread that Hinata and Sasuke were childhood friends and everyone congregated into the small-ish kitchen asking curious questions.

It also didn’t take long for everyone to lose interest when Naruto nudged Hinata and started grilling her for embarrassing details of what a prepubescent Sasuke was like, earning him a surly glare. Hinata shyly shrugged saying, “I-I don’t really remember, it was a long time ago.”  

Safe to say -- Naruto didn’t buy it, but surprisingly didn’t press further, and the group dispersed, leaving them to reacquaint.

The conversation between them after that was unfortunately still quite awkward, thankfully, Hinata wasn’t entirely to blame.

They exchanged small talk, Hinata mentions that she actually works at Heaven’s Little Corner and was just coming off her shift early when she ran into him the other day, and Sasuke talks about going to school and getting a Bachelor's degree in Business and how he focused on E-commerce after graduation. Overall, their -- re-connecting -- consisted of the typical pleasantries involved in catching up, and Hinata couldn’t distinguish if she was disappointed or relieved when their conversation came to a lull and she couldn’t think of anymore pointless verbiage to drag it along.

What she really wanted was to reminisce over hot days on the beach, collecting tiny crabs to occupy the sandcastles they built, and how Hinata had found sand in her hair days after the event. She wanted to talk about ice-cream and food fights and sneaking out to gaze at the stars in the night sky way past their bedtime, and how they pondered if aliens exist.

“I think the universe is too big for there not to be something out there somewhere.”  

She remembers Sasuke saying, thoughtfully looking up.

“I-I think you’re an alien.”

She said back, earning her an indignant huff.  

“Whatever tomato face.”

She wanted to talk about how simple everything was when they were kids, how she misses that naivety and how scary the world had revealed itself to be over the years.

Hinata was never good at making friends, even as a child, but she could still look back and she knew that Sasuke was one. He had been the last mark on her childhood that had made it a good one, the last moments she had to truly be a kid before she lost her mother, the truest love she had ever felt, forcing her to grow up.

Instead silence overtakes the kitchen and they both stare at their drinks unsure of what to say.

Sasuke isn’t how she remembers him at all. Yeah, he has the same face, just matured, and the same haughtiness, but the spark for life that had once inspired her seemed to be gone.

Which is an unfair thought to have, she admits, but she can’t stop herself from thinking it.

“Well I think it’s time to go on an adventure,” Naruto awkwardly offers.  

“An adventure?”  Hinata repeats, eyes growing wide.

“Naruto’s idea of an adventure is leaving the house and walking around the block.” Sasuke says rolling his eyes.

“Hey anything can be an adventure if you let it!”

~~~

It smells like damp grass and Hinata nearly jumps out of her skin as Naruto’s roar of triumph echo's off the surrounding buildings, catching the glow in the dark frisbee Kiba threw him. Sakura and Ino had joined them in their late-night excursion and Hinata can’t suppress the giddy giggles from watching them stumble about attempting athleticism when they are clearly four or five drinks deep.

She snaps a few photos and decides that she likes Naruto’s philosophy of approaching even the mundane aspects of life as an adventure.

This whole day certainly has felt like one.

Hinata puts her camera away, feels the chill in the October air, and pulls her scarf tighter. She casts a glance over at the park bench where Shikamaru was smoking a joint to see that he’s now casually chatting about... string theory? -- to Choji, who continues to nod his head like he understands.  

Her trailing gaze then lands on Sasuke and-  

Hinata immediately looks back towards the glowing air bound frisbee.  

He was watching her - he looked suspicious - Hinata doesn’t know of what.

“Hey Sakura,” Hinata tries to call out, voice wavering, “it’s getting late, I think I-I should start heading home.”

That seems to put a halt on the physical activity for a moment, she’s then hugged by every frisbee player.

“It was nice meeting you Hinata.”

“Come back any time.”

“Yes please! We need more girls in our group, Sakura and I are severely outnumbered.”  

“Are you sure you don’t want us to walk you?” Sakura slurs slightly, pulling away from the tight embrace.

“I’ll be fine, thank you Sakura,” Hinata smiles at her newest friend and turns to leave but stops at the bench to wave goodbye at Choji and Shikamaru, earning her a warm smile and a lazy nod. She looks at Sasuke’s arms proudly crossed over his broad chest and says, “it was nice seeing you again Sasuke.” And makes her way down the busy street, casting one last glance behind her just in time to see Sakura jump on Ino piggyback style to catch the frisbee in an impressive display of drunken camaraderie.

She smiles wider to herself. Wow. Today was a good day. An Adventure! Even if seeing Sasuke again was really weird and awkward and not at all how she wished it could have gone, she still met a lot of new people – Sakura's friends are so nice! They made her feel right at home and didn’t make her feel too weird about being shy and -

“Hey, Hinata.”

Hinata startles, hearing the sound of her name accompanied by footsteps catching up and her breath hitches when she turns to see Sasuke slowing down next to her.

“S-Sasuke? What are you-”

“I’m going to walk you home,” he snorts like it’s obvious, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black jacket, “it’s late.”

“Oh,” Hinata hugs herself, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious and maybe even a little nauseous as they walk in silence, their steps in sync.  

She can feel the heat of his gaze on her and Hinata makes a point to stare at the crispy autumn leaves on the pavement – yeah – Hinata has no idea what to make of this.

“You know it finally makes sense now, why I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”  

Hinata trips over nothing, “you what?”  

Leaves. Look at the leaves. The beautiful burnt orange leaves. Just. Keep. Looking.

“At the coffee shop, there was something about you, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Guess I thought you were familiar somehow.” Sasuke shrugs, with an air of nonchalance as they cross the street.

“Oh,” Hinata’s starting to feel warm, she doesn’t know if it’s from their quickening pace, the two drinks she’s had or how Sasuke is close enough for their shoulders to brush.

“It’s kind of crazy that we’d run into each other like this, after all these years.”  

Hinata stops walking and Sasuke mirrors her. There’s something in his tone that catches Hinata off guard, something almost fond? Hinata looks back in the direction of his friends, they’re about five blocks away now.  

Sasuke seemed... different than how he’s been all night -- more open somehow. Maybe he feels weird about their earlier interactions too, but didn’t feel comfortable acting this way in front of his friends? Sasuke’s always been a very private person, even as a child.

“Yeah it is,” Hinata bites her lip and throws him a timid fleeting smile, silently wishing she knew what was going through his mind.

“So, why did you come back to Konoha.”  

“I-uh-” Hinata starts playing with the hem of her sweater and reminds herself it’s good to open up, “-wanted to figure out this life thing for myself – be independent - if my dad had his way, I’d never leave home or do anything that wasn’t part of his plan-” she tapers off, distracted by the approaching sound of music, a dumb smile spreads across her face when she sees an old skinny man on a sparkly bicycle riding past them on the road blaring ‘Dancing Queen’ from an oversized speaker he probably installed himself -- he seemed so – in the moment, like all that existed was him and the music filling the streets that he owned – Hinata silently mourns the missed opportunity of capturing that moment forever in a-

“You were saying,” Sasuke pokes her shoulder harder than necessary, bursting her from her reverie, and starts leading her down concrete stairs away from the bustling main road of the city, towards the waterfront.

“Right,” Hinata continues feeling energized from the random encounter and embarrassed from being caught drifting away in a daydream when they were in the middle of a conversation, “it was – uh - hard to leave my sister, but she encouraged me to go, that I should at least attempt to do the dream chasing thing.” Hinata pats her shoulder bag in reference to her camera. “I saved up some money and here I am, making it up as I go.”

“Hm, you always were snapping pictures everywhere you went.”  

Their steps slow to a stop once they reach the cold metal railing where tourists gather during the day overlooking the docks, but it’s mostly quiet at this time of night.

It smells cold from the breeze and salty from the ocean. The lampposts must need changing because the only light is from the half-moon in the cloudless sky, casting them in dark shades of blue.

Hinata takes a deep breath observing the skyline and the colorful lights reflecting in the undulating ocean waves, then asks the question that’s been bothering her since their seemingly kismet reunion. “What do you remember after all this time?”

“I remember...” He trails off, Hinata doesn’t miss the sly edge in his tone. “That I had told you I’d marry you one day,” his voice is deep, almost gravely when he takes a slow playful step closer and Hinata swears her heart skips several beats noticing their breaths mixing in the cold air between them. “And that... you were technically my first kiss.” He says with a sarcastic snort, stepping back, and gesticulates somewhere behind them. “You can’t tell them about it though. Especially Naruto, the idiot would never let me live it down.”

Hinata blushes at the memory and attempts to mask her frown with an indignant pout, trying not to take the jeer personally.

Sasuke always did like to mess with her.

“You were my only kiss.” Hinata then whispers without thinking and regrets it. She immediately hates the implications -- like she’s some inexperienced-love-sick-twenty-something, who’s never gotten over her childhood crush.

Hinata sighs, briefly drowning in her own self-deprecating thoughts, gripping at the railing, eyes a passing ship, and pretends she can’t feel him studying her, surprised by the admission.

“What do you remember?” He asks back, finally breaking the silence.

She bites her lip, thinking, a rush of memories flashing one by one, settling on their goodbye -- her sobbing because she had to move away to a new city thousands of miles away that had special doctors who could treat her mother, how Sasuke was speechless and could only squeeze her tight in the first and only hug they had ever shared.  

She remembers how he always told her she should stand up for herself, even against him, and she remembers how sometimes when she was around, he’d bite his tongue, holding back petulant sneers.

There’s a small quirk to her lips when she softly says, “Looking back, I-I always thought that we brought out the best in each other.”

There’s another long silence and Hinata once again feels the heavy weight of his gaze examining her, he reaches out and she stiffens when he gently grips the base of her braid touching the bright pink flower there.

“Did Ino do this?” He quietly asks, and there something hidden in his voice that shifts the mood of their conversation, and he’s close again, close enough for their visible breaths to once again mix, his fingers trail down towards the tail end of her braid.

“Uh huh.” Hinata breathes, watching his fingers play with the tip of her strands.

“Why can’t you…” he starts to ask, unsure, but curious, “never mind.” He let’s go of the braid, huffing lightly in frustration and leans on the railing, looking out towards the roaring waves.

Hinata’s stunned by his sudden apprehension. "Why can’t I what?”

“I said never mind.”

“But… I- I want to know.”

“Why can’t you look at me?”  

“Oh.”  

Sasuke sighs, “you don’t have to answer.”

Hinata bites her lip hard, internally wincing. “I-it’s not just you it’s most people really.” She starts, racking her brain for the right words “- It’s -it’s embarrassing… Well everything is embarrassing but, I get anxious about nothing all the time? And looking at people. I don’t know. I get paranoid that they can hear my thoughts or something? Not that I’m thinking about anything weird, well sometimes I am… it’s easier when they’re not looking back at me... Anyways... I guess it’s just become a bad habit now…” she sighs and smiles bitterly at the mess that just flew out of her mouth. “So, to summarize, looking at people kind of sometimes really freaks me out?”

“I see,” Sasuke says, Hinata glances at his mouth, he’s smiling a little, it’s almost warm in an amused sort of way, which completely disarms her.  

Hinata’s tongue feels dry, “uhm, do-do you ever feel anxious?”  

“Never. I get annoyed or frustrated with people very easily though, which can be problematic, not that I care”

“I guess some things never change then.” Hinata teases gently.

Sasuke smirks, he seems ready to retort with a quip but retreats and opts for something entirely different, “are there things that help you with your anxiety?”

There’s something about the question that makes Hinata feel warm all over, she never really gets to talk about these kinds of things without it feeling like it would dampen the mood, but there’s surprisingly no judgement in his tone, he seems genuinely curious, which encourages her to open up some more, "I find different scents to be calming, so I wear whatever my current favorite essential oil is on my wrist every day and whenever I feel too overwhelmed,” Hinata begins to explain in a rush pulling her sleeve up to demonstrate and presents Sasuke her wrist, “I close my eyes, count down from ten and-” Hinata’s breath catches in her throat and her eyes fly open when Sasuke gently pulls her forward by the wrist and she feels the softness of his lips brush over her pulse, then draws in a slow breath to scent the fragrance she chose to wear that day, “...and... sniff.”

Oh goodness, is it getting hot out here? Because Hinata’s face feels like it’s about to burst into flames. Hinata debates pulling her arm back but is currently enraptured by the softest look she’s seen on the Uchiha’s face this evening.  

This feels way too intimate, and Hinata thinks she likes it. Hinata thinks that maybe this is what’s been missing in her life. The feeling of being close to someone in more ways than just proximity. Is it possible she’s been physically and emotionally touch starved for years without realizing it?

That’s a thought that petrifies her. How sleeping on your basest human needs can become a habit, and you find yourself going through the trivial motions of existence, not bothering to search for more, for something that makes your heart sing, twist, and turn into itself the way that muscle pumping blood through her circulatory system at a quickening pace is doing right now.

“Lavender,” Sasuke murmurs against her wrist and his breath feels hot on her skin, Hinata struggles for breath when the sensation brings her back to the present moment and she realizes that she’s been staring directly into his darkened obsidian eyes, boring into hers and she finds herself unable to look away. A subtle look of achievement flashes through them when he softly asks, “you okay there?”

Is she dead? Is she imagining this? This whole situation with the soft touches coinciding with depressing epiphanies triggered by Sasuke smelling her suddenly seems completely absurd, and Hinata’s not sure she’ll be able to form a coherent sentence any time soon.

“I uh, uhm.” There’s definitely something wrong with Hinata’s voice when she attempts to speak.

“I think that...” Sasuke smoothly adjusts their hands to interlock their fingers and his hand feels so warm in hers, “you should go out with me.”

What is happening?

“No.”

Hinata kinda meant to say yes, but sure, no works too?

“What?”

“I mean, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Hinata winces slightly. Gosh what is she even saying? Is this some sort of weird defense mechanism because she’s afraid of getting hurt?  

Sasuke nods slowly, narrowing his eyes, “why not.”

Don’t you have to risk getting hurt to get anywhere in life that’s worth while?

“I-I don’t know.”

“Hn.” Sasuke breaks eye contact and lets their holding hands fall. Hinata reels at the loss of warmth. He turns away from her and crosses his arms over the railing and looks out towards the dark rhythmic waves of the ocean. Hinata worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she studies the man before her. The moonlight is hitting the sharp angles of his face just perfect, and Hinata’s in awe. He’s all grown up now, and by default that means Hinata is too. Yet, here they are, the oldest they’ve been, and still the youngest they will ever be.  

Nostalgia floods through Hinata’s system, deciding to grab the moment instead of letting it pass. She’s not sure when she pulled the camera out of her bag, but the flash went off before she understood that she was taking a picture.

Sasuke jumps slightly at the flash and is pulled from his brooding thoughts, shooting her a puzzled glare.

“Sorry, that was kind of weird of me. I just – I just thought you-you looked erm... nice in the moonlight?”  

A bewildered look flashes across Sasuke’s face before a small smile begins to form and he laughs! He actually, genuinely laughs while shaking his head in what appears to be disbelief.  

The only thing Hinata can do is smile sheepishly distracted by how handsome he looks when he lets go of his composure, the light in his eyes makes him look younger, like the Sasuke she knew all those years ago.  

Hinata wonders if any of his friends get to see him like this.

He looks down at the pavement, shoulders still shaking, smile still present and pinches the bridge of his nose while taking in a slow breath and on his exhale, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, unlocks it, hands it over and says, “give me your number.”

Hinata tentatively obliges, pulling open the add new contact page, filling in the blanks then handing it back. Sasuke starts typing something in his phone and asks. “Do you work Sunday?”  

“Uhm, yes?”  

Hinata’s phone buzzes, when retrieving it from her bag she sees a text from an unknown number.

>> I’m going to come by after your shift and I'm taking you out. Don’t even bother using your mouth to respond.

Hinata feels her fingers tingling and tries to open her mouth to speak, closes it, bites her lip to try and stifle her giggles and resists the urge to slap herself in the face for acting like a complete airhead.

She pushes her fears aside one more time tonight...

And takes the damn dive.

<< Okay <3

                __________________________

AN2:  Wow, okay. A month later and I have the second part to this little story. This is the first time that I’m posting something I didn’t just throw together in one sitting. I’ve also never posted anything that was longer than 1200 words and it’s unexpectedly a little nerve-wracking??? OKAY SO, I guess there’s going to be one last chapter and it’s going to be like 90% SasuHina interactions? And spoiler alert they’re finally going to make-out. I have this SasuHina headcannon where they’re both private people who generally keep to themselves -- so people think they’re a boring couple, but when they’re alone together it’s like they’re in their own little world, and that’s the dynamic I’m looking forward to exploring in the final part.  I’m not sure when it’s going to be up since I have a bunch of other stuff I need to work on so it depends on how the inspo hits me, but I do have plenty of fun ideas!

[artificialqueens]

Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 2 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| chapter 1

A/N: hiii, this is chapter 2 of this lemyanka childhood friends, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers whatever you wanna call it. I really wanted to play with the time skips to show different parts of their lives together throughout the years so this is a continuation from chapter 1 a few years later. thanks for reading <3

-2-

At the age of thirteen, there were many things Priyanka loved. The list included: electric blue glittery nail polish, writing her name with a golden pen, pop music and girl groups-especially Britney Spears and The Spice Girls-, any movie with Lindsay Lohan in it, acting in the school productions -especially if she got the main role-, sleepovers over Lemon’s house where they secretly watched The O.C., seeing films with Lemon without an “adult” with them, re-acting scenes of the Cheetah Girls movie with Lemon…

She was at Lemon’s a lot.

The thing was, Lemon was the only child of her parent’s marriage, her parents both worked, and most of the time she had the house on her own. For Priyanka -who lived with her siblings and her parents and couldn’t spare one second of privacy at her own home- it was like paradise. They did everything together, on the weekdays they did homework together and afterward, they would lay in the blonde’s room reading magazines and cutting pictures of celebrities and clothes they liked, or listen to a new CD they had been saving for weeks to buy for hours until they knew the lyrics by heart.

Her room had yellow walls -big shocker- and it was covered in posters and pictures with Priyanka, white carpet on the floor, and a mix of Barbie dolls and makeup over the boudoir. She also had a large single bed only for herself with like a million fluffy pillows they had shared more than once.

Lemon had ballet classes three times per-week and Priyanka had rehearsals with the drama club but those were the only moments they were apart. Being childhood friends, their parents got into the obligation of sending them to the same primary school after finishing kindergarten and now they would attend the same secondary school once summer was over.

It was a warm day of summer, Lemon rolled over her bed and showed Priyanka an item she liked, Crazy in Love by Beyoncé played on the radio while the other girl was trying to cover a pimple on her chin with some foundation she had bought in the mall.

“You’re going to make it worse.” Lemon made her remove her hands.

“It hurts, it’s like a little red dot full of hate.”

“Use toothpaste instead.”

“Does it work?”

“Allegedly.” She shrugged. “I read it somewhere.”

“Okay… What did you want to show me?”

“Look at these,” she pointed at a picture of Hillary Duff. “I need those shoes.”

“That’s a pump.” Priyanka said, unimpressed.

“But it’s pink and yellow. How you don’t like the gradient in the colors? I’m in love.”

“Can you even walk with heels?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I can. When you’re short like me, you gotta have some options.”

Priyanka couldn’t argue with that, for her age she was already one of the tallest girls in the classroom. Sometimes she disliked being that tall, she felt like a little deer that couldn’t control its feet, wobbling around awkwardly.

Her best friend flipped a few more pages.

“Look! It’s a poster of Ryan Gosling from that movie… The Notebook.” She sounded excited.

Right. They were supposed to be excited about handsome muscle guys but there was something about it that didn’t click with Priyanka. She thought maybe she was just too young to get it, that when she’d grow older she’d get the feeling but until then, she had become very good at pretending.

“Oh, he’s so hot.” She hoped Lemon didn’t notice the fakeness of her voice.

“I know, right?” She giggled. “Do you want his picture?”

“Ah… you can keep it… I already have Leonardo DiCaprio’s and that’s just too many white guys.”

“Alright.” She picked a pair of scissors and started cutting the actor’s silhouette. The pair of dark-framed glasses she had on kept sliding down her nose bridge.

Priyanka smiled fondly at it.

“I’m home!” It was Lemon’s mom that had just returned from work.

Lemon jumped out of the bed and stood in the door’s frame. She looked even smaller in that oversized t-shirt of the Powerpuff Girls and shorts she wore as pajamas. Her hair was tied in a messy ponytail that brushed her shoulder blades.

“Hi, mom.” She yelled. “Priyanka’s here!”

“Hi, Priyanka!”

“Hello, Mrs. Baptsita!”

Priyanka adored Mrs. Baptista, she was a little wacky for Lemon’s taste but it was because she was younger than most moms with kids their age. She liked Priyanka and she supported their friendship since kindergarten, called them the Ketchup&Mustard duo since that Halloween they had matching costumes.

“Is she staying for dinner?”

Lemon turned around. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Priyanka shrugged. “Sure.”

“She is mom!”

“I’m making spaghetti!”

“Sound good!” She turned back to Priyanka again. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

“You know I do.”

Just a couple of minutes later, they heard the sound of Mr. Baptista’s car at the entrance.

“That’s my dad.” Lemon pointed.

“Hello, I’m home.”

“Hi, dad! Priyanka’s here.”

“Hi Lemon drop, hi Priyanka!”

“Hello, Mr. Baptista!”

Lemon grinned but not even five minutes later than her father’s arrival, the vibe of the kitchen changed and it was clear by the sound of their voices, her parents were arguing. Another argument…

“I swear to God… this is the third time this week."

Lemon sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands. She looked tired.

Priyanka gently touched her knee offering some comfort. Lemon pulled a weak smile that faded as soon as the voices increased in volume.

"Hey, I have some extra cash, wanna get some pizza?” Priyanka offered.

Lemon bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Lemon changed her shorts for pants and put on a pair of sneakers, then she grabbed her keys and both of them were out of the house. It wasn’t that late yet and there was a pizza place a few blocks away they could get on foot; they walked in silence until Lemon’s house was behind, then the blonde let a big sigh out of her chest.

“Pri, I can’t do this…” She sounded fragile as if she was holding the pieces together trying not to break with all her strengths.

Priyanka ran her arm over her shoulder and held her when she seemed about to fall.

“It’s okay, I’m sure they are going to work it out.”

Lemon snorted. “They started going to couple’s counseling and it got worse, they have pretty solid arguments to fight now.”

Priyanka covered her mouth holding back the laughter. “Sorry.”

“You dumb bitch.” Lemon shook her head.

They walked hugged like that the rest of the way, ate greasy pizza with extra cheese, and returned to a sepulchral silent house. Priyanka laid on the bed next to her, so close yet so far. If she extended her hand just a little more, she could touch her shoulder, make sure she was okay but for some reason, she couldn’t. Yet, she hoped that being there for her friend was enough then.

On the other side, Lemon had her eyes wide open, unable to drift off when her mind was going through a million different scenarios. Everything could only go downhill from there.

They didn’t know at that moment but the worst was yet to come.

She dashed out of the house as soon as she got the phone call, barely having the chance to put on a helmet before grabbing her bike. Priyanka was still catching her breath by the time Lemon opened the door.

Her face was bathed in tears, her eyes completely red and she couldn’t stop crying not even to explain what had happened. Priyanka had a vague idea judging by what was said on the phone but it wasn’t until she saw her friend she knew it was bad. Very bad.

Lemon wasn’t the most physically affectionate person in the world but she let Priyanka hug her and cried it out on her chest. They sat on the porch until the blonde began to calm down and could explain it better.

“Pri, they… they are getting divorced. It’s all happening so fast.”

Priyanka held her hand and squeezed it lightly. Lemon looked at her hand and then at her face, her eyes flooded with tears again.

“Hey,” The brunette tried to comfort her. “I’m so sorry, I know you love them both and they love you very much but this is probably for the best.”

“No, Pri, you don’t understand. They are… separating for real. They talked about lawyers and My mom she…” Lemon sobbed. “She wants us to move out…”

“Oh, I mean, that’s normal like-”

“…to New York.” Her voice was weak, defeated.

It took Priyanka a moment to process the newly acquired information.

“New York?!” She repeated in disbelief.

“Apparently, she has a job offer there, and… they think it’s for the best to put some distance between them.”

“I get the ‘moving out thing’ and the distance but that’s a completely different country!”

“I know! That’s what I said. Tell me I’m right, she’s out of her mind.”

“But wait, when does she want you to move out? What about school?”

“She thinks it’s a good idea if we go before the new semester starts so we can settle in and…”

“No, the new semester starts in two weeks… What about your dance lessons? Your life here?”

What about us?

“She said there are plenty of dance academies over there… That I would do fine. I hate it. This doesn’t go with the plan we had.”

Priyanka and Lemon had a life plan since they were ten, sealed with a pinky promise. They were going to graduate high school together and go to university in Toronto where they both would be roommates throughout college. It was their way of being together, to accomplish things in the company of the other, a sign of their unbreakable friendship.

“Wait but… what about your dad?” Can’t you stay with him?“ There was a hint of hope in Priyanka’s voice.

Lemon stared at the wooden floor of the porch for the longest time before looking back at her friend.

"I can’t. My dad travels a lot for business and while he’s going to remain here… my mom gave me no choice. They even said that it’s either New York or some boarding school in Quebec.”

Lemon surely had gone mad about it for her parents to threaten her like that, it didn’t sound like the Baptistas at all.

“This can’t be…” Priyanka shook her head. The tears felt warm on her cheeks.

“We’re leaving next week.”

“No…no, that’s… that’s too soon. You can’t leave… who’s going to help me buy a new outfit for the first day? Who’s going through the first day of school with me?”

“I hate to think about it. They really think this is for the best and then decide to drag me to a different country for the first year of school… «You have to be reasonable» they said, but they are the ones that come with these ideas out of blue.”

It was too sudden it made Priyanka felt dizzy; she couldn’t even begin to imagine what her friend was feeling like.

She squeezed her hand again. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You keep saying that but-” Lemon shook her head.

“Because it is going to be okay. I promise you, we’ll still be together, and… maybe we don’t get to attend the same high-school but we can still go to college together, the plan can still work out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely. You’re my best friend in the world; nothing is going to change that.”

Lemon smiled for the first time after getting the news of her parents’ divorce.

“Thanks, Pri.” She went for a hug and was received with open arms.

They hugged for a while without saying a single word, in that situation, words were unnecessary.

The day of Lemon’s moving, ironically the sun was shining and Priyanka kept reminding herself that in different circumstances they’d be at the park with their bikes or at the local pool but no, she was heading to her best friend’s house to say the last goodbye.

Priyanka hadn’t cried in front of her since that day on the porch but she had cried a lot when no one was seeing her. She was sad, upset, and mad about the situation but she didn’t want Lemon to leave with a sad note. So she went ahead and planned a week dedicated to her best friend, to enjoy the things they loved the most.

They had made each other friendship bracelets with their names –Priyanka was red and orange and it had a little golden star hanging next to her name; Lemon’s was pink and yellow and a butterfly next to hers- they had movie nights and sleepovers, karaoke sessions and dancing marathons every day until that awful day arrived.

Priyanka rode her bike like she had done millions of times before. There was a «FOR SALE» sign hanging outside and she hated it with all her soul. There was a truck parked outside as well with many boxes stacked inside and some furniture pieces they were taking to New York. Lemon was sitting on the porch’s stairs with a backpack on, the scene was oddly familiar and for a second time stopped.

She didn’t notice Priyanka’s presence until the brunette touched her shoulder.

“You’re here.” She said and did her best to smile.

“Where else I’d be?”

Lemon stood on her feet and hugged her, Priyanka hugged her back.

“Promise me you’re going to wait for my calls every week… and that you’re not going to have another best friend… ever.” Lemon sobbed on her shoulder.

“I promise it.” Priyanka patted her back in a calming gesture.

“I’ll visit on holidays, my dad is probably going to get a shitty apartment but still, I’ll be here.”

“I know you will.”

Lemon let go of her embrace. “Thank you, Pri. You’re my best friend in the world.”

“I know, right?”

The blonde giggled. “You’re so stupid…”

“Luce, get in the car, it’s time to go.” Her mom called her as she carried one last box.

“I have to go now. I already said good-bye to my dad; he had a flight to catch early but… It feels so empty without him here.”

“Lemz, I’m sorry.” She hugged her one more time. It was quick but it lingered. “Take care and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do in New York.”

“That sets the bar very low, don’t you think?”

Priyanka laughed. “I’ll miss you like crazy.”

“Me too.”

Lemon’s mom waved in their direction, the car was already on and the truck was closed and packed.

“Well, I guess this is our goodbye for now.”

“Count the days because I’m going to be back in no time, okay?”

She nodded.

“Love you, Pri.”

“Love you too.”

And with that said, Lemon started walking toward the car. It was painful to watch her leave but Priyanka didn’t want to look away, she wanted to remember it all until they could meet again.

The car started moving but stopped abruptly as Lemon opened the door and ran back to where Priyanka was.

“Lemon, what…?”

“I almost forgot, I was supposed to give you this the first day of school but…” She was out of breath. Suddenly a brand new CD of Spiceworld was on Priyanka’s hands. “You were so sad when your sister broke the one you had worked so hard to buy and I thought…”

Priyanka was hugging her again. “Oh, Lemon…”

“Please don’t forget me.”

Her mom honked at them, the truck was already hitting the road.

Lemon walked back and this time, she left for real.

[chaosworthyarchive]

                                                                  8.18.3227                                                                                                                                Location ¦ Scrap Brain

                                                             ---------------------

     “So, what do you think?”

     It was an honest question so Amy was slightly surprised when it was met with a chuckle from Sonic. Given it seemed like the furthest thing from sarcastic, the pink hedgehog only raised a brow, looking up at him from where she was currently kneeling. She had the slightest temptation to poke him with the handle end of the scissors in her hand but fought the urge and focused on where it was supposed to be in order to hold the place of the altercation she was doing. 

     After a few hours of work, even she had to admit the hero looked stunning in the black vest, white shirt combo. The fact he was even wearing pants? It may have meant more work but it was definitely an added bonus. 

     “I think you’re a little too good at this,” the blue hedgehog finally answered, looking down at her with a cocksure grin. “An’ enjoying yourself way too much.”

     “C'mon, it’s not every day I get to dress you up. I have to make you look good. Well, better than you already are, I mean.” Just as she was hoping that last part got the faintest blush to appear on the hero's face and she laughed, victoriously. He never was good at taking compliments, not even when they had first met many years ago; though that may have had something to do with her obsession at the time, but Amy digressed. It was better not to think of those younger, naive days. “What did you say this was for again?”

     “I never said,” Sonic answered plainly, his head cocking slightly as he looked up into the mirror admirably. “Mina wants t' go t’ a charity function next week, which I usually wouldn’t mind but I kind of lost all my proper clothes when…y'know.”

     He gave a small gesture to emphasize but Amy knew what he meant even before it. Given his nonchalant attitude towards it even she tended to forget how much the hero had lost when Grand Metropolis flooded. His entire, material life had been in that apartment and now he had scant amounts of it at best. 

     “So you came to me, makes sense.” Giving a small nod she fell silent for a moment before looking back at him quizzically. “This isn’t for the function in Starlight is it?”

     Sonic raised a brow. “It is, how’d you know that?”

     “Tekno got invited to the same one, but I don’t think she’s made up her mind about going yet. She’s not a fan of the dressing up thing either,” Amy explained with a touch of humor. Her partner got invited to such functions often and, much like the blue hedgehog and mongoose, rarely went to them. The canary was a bit of a homebody, or rather a workshop-body. Far more comfortable in her work than with dozens of other strangers. The Freedom Fighters being the exception, of course. 

     Speaking of…

     “Maybe we should bring Johnny and Porker too, make it a real party.” The hero’s tone was light, joking, but still got matching smiles to appear on his and Amy’s faces. 

     “I know you’re kidding but you know they’d be all for it.” Having gone back to her work, the pink hedgehog pondered over the thought for a few moments, even humming to herself after. “It’s really not a bad idea you know…just in case.”

     To say the two hedgehogs had forgotten the events in the city a few weeks prior would have been nothing short of a lie. There was still talk of it on some outlets. While they were both glad that nothing too serious had happened, both of them knew it had changed something, had caused something to shift. Whether it was for the better or not neither of them knew but if the past was any sort of teacher they knew they would be finding out soon enough. 

     “Are you really okay going to some social function..?” Amy glanced up again, curious and honestly concerned. “I know it’s for a good cause and everything but can you honestly say people won’t talk?”

     “I’m sure they will,” Sonic said without missing a beat, offering a thankful yet firm smile. He had already thought of all this and had already made up his mind. “I can’t just hide from all of it for the rest of my life. Nothing will get better that way.”

     Amy didn’t look convinced, in fact, she seemed almost worried by this. It wasn’t all that unusual for the hero to throw himself into the fray, it was actually one of his better-known traits, but this? This was different. It wasn’t a battle, not in a physical sense. Throwing punches wouldn’t change someone’s mind, their outlook. She could appreciate his efforts to stand and face those naysayers, especially after the incident in the city square, but she also couldn’t shake the feeling that it wouldn’t be as easy as he made it sound. Like he always made things sound.

     Having picked on his teammate’s distress, Sonic turned a more sympathetic look her way, giving her a small, playful nudge with his knee. “Don’t get me wrong, Ames. I know where you’re coming from, but what else can I do?”

     It was a question she didn’t have the answer to. She knew hiding from it all wasn't an option, that Sonic was right in that respect, but still...She had seen that sort of thing almost break him once, she didn't want to see it again. The heroine was quiet for a few moments, still and pondering before an idea hit her. 

     “Well…how long were you planning on mingling?” The question had obviously confused Sonic, which was fair enough, and why Amy made a gesture with her hand, confidence blooming anew. “Listen, if we bring everyone we can stay for a bit, say some hellos, toss out a donation or two, and then the six of us can have our own little after-party. That ought to make up for any jerks we might run into. Besides, it’ll be fun to have us all together not doing the hero thing.”

     She could see the temptation in her friend's eyes, though it was obvious he wasn't wholly behind the idea. Whether that was because he didn't want others fretting over him or something else, she wasn't sure, but it didn't stop her from beaming. 

     “C’mon, it’ll be fun! There’s a new place here in town that just opened. Me and Tekno were going to check it out anyway, we might as well bring some friends.“ Amy was excited now, and she knew for a fact Tekno would be behind the idea a hundred percent. Getting the others to come? It would be cake, it was just Sonic she had to convince and she hoped like hell the puppy-eyed expression she aimed in his direction would do just that. “Please? We’ve all been busy and on edge, this will be a great way to cut loose and have a good night.”

     The hero had narrowed his eyes at the look but even Amy could see something shift in those handsome green hues. She knew she had won the moment he let out a sigh.

     “Okay, fine. I’ll see what Mina says, but you get t’ convince the others t’ go t' some fancy party than a rambunctious club.” And, with that, he would wish her the best of luck. Namely in the case of Porker, who was the most introverted of all of them. If she managed to pull that one off, he would have paid to see the pig at that point but if anyone could do it, it was Amy. Unfortunately.

     Still, it was hard for him not to be amused seeing her silently cheer in victory and, while he had rolled his eyes, the hero was smiling. There was still one thing he wanted to set in stone though and he gestured to the very clothes they had been working on. “Also I’m not wearing this t' some club so don’t get your hopes up.”

     The pink one feigned a pout but soon chuckled, shrugging as she got back to work, mood lifted tenfold. 

     “It’s the public’s loss, not mine.”

[littlemisskookie]

Brat: 03

Brat: 01 02 03 04 05 Ship: Sana | Yoongi | Reader Description: You’re the domme, he’s the brat. But things won’t stay as simple as that. Warnings: Sub!Yoongi, Humiliation, Voyeurism, Slight Exhibitionism, Sex Toy, Masturbation, Handjob, Oral, Sucking...? Word Count: 3,369 A/N: Still dedicated to @jeonjagiya who knows the shitstorm that’s going to come up.

Yoongi was planning to ask you exactly what had happened back at the club. He wasn't sure of your motivations or your hidden intentions, and with as little as he seemed to really know about you, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling from his head. Perhaps he was overreacting, as he tends to do, but the question seemed to eat up at the back of his mind. Perhaps you just really wanted to see his reaction and play with him, and it was all in good fun in your opinion. But what if there was something else you were hiding, some motivations that had you do it at that exact moment that left him humiliated and embarrassed? Either way, he was keen on asking you.

He rapped his knuckles against your door, calling out your name. No reply. He kept on knocking on your door, saying your name again. No answer. You had called him to come here at this exact time to meet up for lunch, so why weren't you answering? Yoongi shook his head, fishing out his keys that you let him have to your apartment, entering the threshold to find you.

The first thing he noticed with the moan.

It was coming from somewhere else in the apartment, a low moan that was distinct and clear, easily distinguishable as you. Yoongi walked towards the sound, curious as to who you were with. He found himself at your bedroom door, the door cracked open the slightest bit, giving him the perfect view of you.

You were riding what appeared to be a purple dildo, your eyes screwed shut, head tilted back, and lips parted open to let your delicious moans escape. You were wearing only a t-shirt and panties, the shirt so sweaty on your glistening skin it was like a second skin, sticking to you to show the curves of your breasts as they bounced along with your figure, nipples protruding from the thin fabric. Your panties were pushed to the side as you vigorously rubbed at your clit, rubbing small circles into the nub. Your knees were spread apart to give full access to the view of how you slid up and down the toy.

You were letting out low moans that drawled out, whimpering and biting down hard on your lip as you continued to descend upon it, your figure bouncing along as you arched your back into your own touch. Yoongi was mesmerized, unable to tear his eyes off of you as you continued to pleasure yourself.

He found himself immobile, unable to so much as move his feet as his eyes were glued on how your pussy seemed to devour the toy. Yoongi didn't think so much when it came to pleasuring you, especially since your sexual activities with him so far mainly involved his own pleasure. But from how delicious your moans were to how good you seemed to look, sweat glistening off your skin as you tried to ride out to your high, Yoongi couldn't help but imagine having you scream for him.

His hand went down to cup his already forming erection, and he licked his lips as he saw you. Your eyes were screwed shut, lips parted as you continued to bounce along, your hand moving at a quick pace. Yoongi started rubbing himself more frantically, his eyes trained on how skillfully you seemed to move.

He let out a low hiss, gritting his teeth as he continued to palm his growing boner, watching keenly at the scene. He stumbled forward, his hand moving to the door in an attempt to steady himself, and the cracked open door was now left ajar. Yoongi caught his balance, staring up at you.

Your eyes were wide, cheeks burning a bright red as you stared at him in both horror and embarrassment. Yoongi's own cheeks were tinted pink, and he moved his clammy hands behind his back as he stared at you guiltily, both parties absolutely mortified at getting caught.

Your embarrassment melted away into anger quickly, with your eyes narrow and your brows furrowed. "Yoongi, what the actual fuck? Were you spying on me?" you hissed at him.

"I came at the time you told me to! I just happened to walk in," Yoongi stammered, blabbing out his excuse for getting caught.

"So what, you think it's okay to watch me masturbate?" you scold, your glare burning into his cowardly stare. You cocked your head to the side, narrowing your eyes a bit more as though you were pondering over a certain thought. Without further hesitation, you snapped your fingers at him, pointing down to the space before the bed. "Kneel. Here. Now."

Yoongi's eyes widened with fear as for what you were going to do to him, and he didn't hesitate to kneel before you, stomach plummeting as he thought over what punishment he'd receive. You stared at him with fury, your hand jutting out to grab at his chin, forcing him to look up at you instead of the ground, making him meet your eyes. Yoongi was thankful you didn't dig in your nails, knowing even when you were angry you weren't going to hurt him.

"What're you going to do to me?" Yoongi asked you, gulping.

The scowl on your face was replaced with a malevolent grin, one that stretched across your features as wicked ideas seemed to play in your mind. "Oh, it's not what I'm going to do to you," you assured him. "It's what you're going to do to me."

"I'm not following," Yoongi stared blankly, blinking in surprise. What were you saying now?

"Since you so rudely interrupted me, and decided to be a peeping tom, I think it's only fair for you to finish the job," you replied coolly, sliding off the toy as you tossed it to the side on the bed.

"Wait... what?" Yoongi blinked up at you.

"I want you to eat me out Yoongi," you said bluntly. "And I suggest you don't waste any time, I'm not feeling particularly patient today."

It took Yoongi a second to understand what you were saying before he settled in his spot, pushing your thighs further apart as you scooted closer to the edge of the bed, your thighs now on either side of his head. Yoongi slid your panties to the side with his thumb, looking up at you in surprise. You gave him an expectant look, leaning back to where your elbows were digging into the sheets as you watched the view of his head buried between your legs.

Yoongi licked a stripe up your slit, getting accumulated to the taste of your arousal on his tongue. Licking his lips, he then repeated the action, letting it settle on his taste buds as he got more used to it. He then dived his tongue into your hole, which was already gaping and stretched out with your use of the toy but a few minutes ago, and he began to tongue-fuck you, letting your juices settle on his tongue. The wet muscle was brushing along your walls, gathering your arousal as more of it seemed to drip from you.

He didn't waste too much time on that, though, his lips trailing up to your already swollen, throbbing, and sensitive clit, that seemed to swell with anticipation to be touched. Yoongi attached his lips to it, letting his tongue lap at the small nub, and your thighs seemed to tense around his head.

You moaned out, feeling his tongue swirl around the small nub as he sucked and nipped at it. Yoongi smiled against your heat, replacing his hot mouth with his thumb, smirking at you. "Seems like you're glad I walked in, huh?" he piped, watching you writhe.

Your eyes narrowed with annoyance, fingers tangling into his locks as you buried his face back between your legs and into your heat, making him lap up once again at your needy clit. "Oh, what was that?" you asked, voice laced with cockiness. "It's almost as if something is keeping your busy little lips occupied."

Your lips were twisted into a smile, eyes locked with his as you maintained eye contact, watching as Yoongi continued to eat you out. "Yoongi, you're so good at this you know. Who'd have thought those fluttering lips of yours would be good at something? You're good with your tongue you know- shit. And you were such a peeping tom, what a pervert. Did you like that? Watching me hop along some plastic cock? I saw you palming your erection when you stumbled in, you liked it, didn't you?"

Yoongi hummed against your heat, vibrations tingling throughout your body as your legs tensed a bit more around his head. Your fingers were tracing random shapes into the back of his head, tugging a bit more at his scalp as you started bucking your self into him, riding against his face slightly to have his chin, nose, and cheeks coated with your arousal as well.

"I've never been that into exhibitionism, but I would be for you since you seem to enjoy it so much. Never took you for the type into voyeurism, Yoongi. I'd bet you really like it though, huh? Would you like to see me plunge a fake cock into my pussy, would that turn you on? Or perhaps finger myself? What if I had sex with another man in front of you, I'd bet you'd get so hard. Fuck, Yoongi, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Your breaths were getting quicker, and you were starting to buck a bit more into his mouth. He sucked harshly on your clit, already adding two fingers into your well-used pussy, pumping them into you as he curled them occasionally, making sure to scissor the two digits as he worked towards making you cum. You seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit, your small thrusts starting to get sloppy.

"Oh, fuck, don't stop, be good for me, won't you? Fuck fuck fuck," you muttered, whines and mewls escaping your lips as you tugged tighter on Yoongi's hair. "I think I'm actually going to cum, Yoongi, your tongue is so hot and warm, f-fuck!"

Your legs were shaking slightly around his head, and you continued to ride out your high on his face. Yoongi simply laid his tongue flat against your clit, letting you buck through your orgasm as it washed over you. Soon enough you were sitting back down, staring at the boy through hooded eyes, and reaching behind you.

You grabbed the purple dildo, placing it in front of you as you stared at Yoongi. At first, the man wondered whether or not you wanted him to use it on you, which confused him since you just came. But your next words really surprised him.

"Suck," you commanded, dead serious. Yoongi's eyes were wide, but he didn't give it a second thought as he attached his lips around the plastic head, swirling his tongue around it as he tasted your arousal and plastic. He tried licking it clean, staring up at you as your gazes locked. You were wearing a smug look, clearly enjoying the image.

"You look so hot down there, Yoongi. My wetness all over your face, and now you're sucking a cock. You're good at it too, go deeper. I think you'd be good a sucking cock Yoongi, would you enjoy that? You like getting fucked in the ass, but that means nothing. You're so good with your tongue though, why don't you be good and clean it off for me, will you?"

Yoongi complied, his tongue pressing against the underside of the veiny plastic. You licked your lips, biting them at the sight. "Take it in deeper. I want to see you gag," you said. Yoongi did as he was told, though he didn't deep throat it, being rather unfamiliar with this sort of thing. Typically he would have refused to something like this, but when it came to you, he always seemed to have a hard time saying no. But he could taste your slightly dried arousal on the toy, and he couldn't help but think whether this was what it was like when women gave blowjobs.

"Is it clean?" you ask him, pulling out the toy to examine it. It was now glistening with saliva instead of your arousal. You grinned to him, cooing as you pet his hair. "You did good, Yoongi. Really good. Did you enjoy that?"

"Yes," he admitted, licking his lips. Your taste still lingered on his lips. "But I swear, I came here because you told me to come at this time. I didn't mean to walk in on that."

"That was my fault," you chuckled, moving to place the dildo in a drawer. "I lost track of the time, completely forgot about our plans. But let me go get you a towel to wash your face, and I'll go get some pants on, and we can head out."

Yoongi completely forgot what he was pondering over before he got to your apartment. The topic was digging into the back of his head at the moment, but now it vanished, and he couldn't seem to recall exactly what it was. So instead of asking you whatever pressing matters he was thinking of earlier, lunch went how it typically did.

That is, until a random guy approached your table, locked eyes with you, and told Yoongi to move. Yoongi looked to the guy in alarm, glancing back to you as if to say, Is this guy serious? You kept calm, putting on your poker face as you glanced back to Yoongi. "You heard him, move," you said, patting the seat next to you.

Yoongi figured that if you were telling him to do something, there must be a good reason, and he didn't hesitate to slide out of the seat in front of you to return to your side. The moment he stood, the new gentleman replaced his seat, sitting opposite of you with a keen stare. Yoongi leaned in to whisper in your ear. "Who's this douche?" he asked.

You didn't reply, instead placing your hand on his knee. The boy's breath hitched, his leg tensing under your touch, and a snide smirk stretched on your lips. "How may I help you?" you asked the newcomer.

"I'm Minjun, and I assume you're Y/N?" he asked, taking out his hand, which you eagerly shook.

"I am," you confirmed. "What brings you here?"

"I've been in need of your services," Minjun explained, a cocky grin stretching across his features. "They said if anyone could accomplish it, you would."

Your eyes scanned him, running up and down his figure. Your hand moved over Yoongi's erection, cupping him through his pants, and Yoongi made sure to stay dead quiet. "I'm not sure my type of services are the ones you're looking for," you mention. "I'm not your every day hooker, you know."

"I'm aware," Minjun laughed. "I also assume this is another one of your clients, isn't he?"

"I don't reveal that type of information," you say, brushing off the comment. Your hands squeeze around Yoongi's erection, and he lets out a small squeak, causing Minjun's eyes to flicker to his. Yoongi's cheeks burned, but he bit down on his inner cheek to keep quiet.

"Of course not," Minjun chuckled, his gaze locking back to yours. "But I'm up for something new, and while I seriously doubt what some have said, they told me you'd be the person to come to. I'm doubtful of course, but if anyone can do it, they said you could."

"I don't think I'm the person you should underestimate, Minjun," you say coolly, your lips pulling up to a smug smile. "I can have you on your knees begging for me to hit you within five seconds. I'm not one you shouldn't take seriously."

"Perfect, then you're just the one I need," Minjun smiled. He seemed cocky, arrogant, as though you were simply a kid who was overestimating her own abilities, and he was simply willing to humor you. "I think I'll look forward to becoming one of your customers."

Yoongi's mind spun as your hand slowly unzipped his pants, hand creeping into the waistband as you worked at slowly taking out Yoongi's erection- and in the middle of lunch, too. Client? Customer? What was going on? He couldn't make sense of the conversation.

"I take it this is one of your pets?" Minjun cocked his head to the side, making eye contact with Yoongi. "Tell me, is she as good as she claims she is?"

In response, Yoongi glared, but you squeezed his erection slightly, pumping him slowly. "Answer him," you asked, your pace quickening a bit, thumb sliding over the slit. God, Yoongi had endured so much teasing, and he was so turned on by the fact this douchebag was right in front of the two of you, and yet oblivious, that he wasn't sure how much longer he'd last.

"Y-Yeah," he squeaked, unsure as to what exactly was going on. In reward, you tightened your grip a bit more, making your pace a bit faster. "She's good."

Minjun grunted in response, nodding as he glanced back to you.

"Well, Minjun, I hope you know the process to become one of my clients is rather tedious: lots of paper work," you warned, your hand starting to pump him quicker. "Lots of rules, and I don't take just anyone. You want to be a pet? You're going to have to act like one- or face the consequences."

Minjun simply smiled, nodding along, licking his lips as his eyes ran over your body. "Look forward to it," he said simply, sliding out of the seat as he departed. "Nice meeting you, and your friend too."

Once he was gone, you continued your pace, staring at the man's back and rolling your eyes. "Just wait 'til he finds out I don't have sex with clients," you grumble.

Yoongi clenched his jaw, gripping onto the sides of the table. "W-What is he talking about?" he asked you in quiet breaths, trying not to squirm in his seat. Your expression was one of boredom, and no one would be able to tell what was going on beneath the table based on your face. His, on the other hand, with his furrowed brows and gritted teeth, he wondered whether or not he was obvious.

"Maybe it's about time I let you in on a secret," you sigh, propping your head on your hand as you lean on the table, continuing your pace. Yoongi felt himself begin to swell in your touch already. "Yoongi, I'm a sex worker."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"I'm paid to be a domme. All those boys who seemed flustered who we'd meet? They're my clients, Yoongi," you said in a bored tone, watching below the table as his cock was flushing with color.

"Y-You're joking," he stammered quietly, face burning. "Is that h-how you know all of those things-"

"Yeah," you said, shrugging.

"Why do you do it? Do you really like sex that you made it a sort of side job?" Yoongi blurted, his knuckles turning white as he squeezed harder against the table.

"Not really, I just do it to pay off student loans," you shrug. "You're not a client, of course, since you're my friend and you don't pay me. Those other guys are though, and while most aren't as cocky or obnoxious as that one, I'd certainly love to wipe the shit eating grin off his face."

Yoongi felt as though he was about to burst, but he kept on trying to focus on the topic at hand. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Since I was of legal age, of course," you assured him. "Now, you seem like you're about to cum already. Why don't you shoot your load at the bottom of this table, and then we can get out of here, hm?"

Yoongi bit down on his lower lip, dragging the flesh out. "I'm going to cum," he whispered to you.

"Then cum," you said urgently, quickening your pace. Yoongi felt his hot seed shoot out, perhaps sticking to the bottom of the table, and he struggled to maintain breathing and good composure as he felt his release, your pace slowing down as though to milk him out.

You winked at him, releasing his member to wipe it on your jeans. "Now, c'mon, let's go already. Your mess is someone else's problem for the night."

[bevioletskies]

20 questions [17/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: peter and gamora's "six-month anniversary" date goes about as well as expected.

word count: 7811 | total word count: 118k

a/n: i think this chapter wins for most angst-ridden inner monologues.

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

The moment Gamora woke up on Saturday morning, she could tell something was wrong. As in, that she had slept so perfectly, so peacefully, that there had to be some sort of catch. Blinking slowly, she found herself mere inches away from Peter’s face, though thankfully his eyes were closed, breathing even, indicating he was still asleep. She chuckled slightly at the way his hair was completely flattened on one side, exposing the burnt parts of his hair. Upon closer inspection, she also noticed the slightest patch of raw skin along the top of his ear. For someone who enjoyed his theatrics, Peter undersold his injuries more than she’d like.

Gamora sat up, stretching and letting out a shivering yawn, before rummaging around in his cabinets for scissors. Peter woke a few minutes later, blinking at her sleepily. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice deeper than usual, a pleasant sound for her to hear. “You cutting my hair now?”

She hummed in affirmation, twirling her finger to indicate for him to sit up and turn his back to her. He obeyed, moving sluggishly into a seated position and shuffling forwards so she had room to join him on the bed. Once she found what she was looking for, Gamora kneeled behind him and began running her fingers through his hair again so she could get the undamaged strands out of the way. “Are you going to tell me anything about tonight? Or am I completely in the dark on this one?”

“No spoilers,” Peter replied, tipping his head back so he could smile at her. “Just meet me at the quad at 7:30.”

“Can I at least get a dress code? Is this a ‘fancy dinner’ kind of situation, or a ‘dancing at Club Galaxy’ situation?” She made her first definitive cut, catching the hair in her free hand, smiling privately to herself. It was a miracle Peter didn’t burn his hair more often, given the amount of explosions, fires, and general chaos that he let himself get too close to.

“It’s a ‘come as you are’ situation.” He fell silent as she made a few more snips before turning to look at her. “Gamora,” he said gently. “I listened to you last night, you know. Small things, not big gestures, right?”

“Good to know you’re paying attention,” she said evenly, though her heart skipped rather anxiously. “I guess I’ve also been wondering what we’re gonna do once we finally finish our game of 20 Questions.”

“I’ll still answer you,” Peter said almost too quickly, mentally kicking himself for being too eager. “If they’re not too personal.”

“We’ve asked each other a lot of personal things,” Gamora countered. “Is there really anything off the table at this point?”

“Yes.” His immediate response surprised her - what could he possibly have to hide at this point?

“Fair enough.” She made her last cut before moving to deposit the hair into his trash can, then moved back towards him so she could ruffle his hair once more, this time for stray bits, unusually gentle. Peter thought back to Gamora’s comment about romantic gestures, about signs of love. Was it stupid of him to hope that this was one of them, this quiet morning they were sharing? “You want help with your bandages, too?”

“You’re feeling generous today,” he teased. “That’d be great, thanks.” She eyed him expectantly, and he was unsure of what she was waiting for, until he realized she wanted him to take off his shirt. Letting out a shaky exhale, he pulled off his rumpled, ratty T-shirt and threw it in the general direction of his wardrobe. Despite her being the one to check on his injuries and test his physical capabilities, the sleepy, lackadaisical mood of the room was making it feel more intimate. “You sure this wasn’t just a ploy to get my shirt off?”

“You really need to stop thinking everyone wants to sleep with you, Quill,” she shot back, pulling out his med kit from underneath his mattress.

Peter chuckled, causing the rawness of the skin on his torso to flare up a little. He clutched at his side with a groan, leaning forward to rest his head onto her shoulder. “G’mora-a-a, it hurts.”

“Fearless leader, huh?” She patted him on the bare shoulder before slowly hoisting him back up. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he fixated on her face.

“Fearless leader’s you,” he said quietly. “It’s what we’re both here for, right? It’s like you told Natasha - balance.”

She nodded, moving to peel off his old bandages instead of answering. Gamora continued to work in silence, though she could feel Peter’s gaze - soft, warm, inviting. She wanted to lean into the touch, the way his hands came to rest on her hips to keep her steady despite her having perfect balance. His head was still tilted in her direction, as if he wanted to lean on her shoulder again. Deciding to test this theory, she shuffled a little closer, her knees nearly in his lap, as she cleaned his skin. It had almost been three weeks since the building had collapsed on them, but only now had the open wounds on his body closed up, his skin starting to heal over anew, slightly pink and delicate to the touch. She couldn’t help but remember that he would have healed much faster before they had killed Ego. Her own injuries were long gone, as if they had never happened.

“You’re thinkin’ pretty hard about something,” Peter commented after they’d been quiet for ten minutes. His chin was on her shoulder again, though his head was cocked sideways so he could continue watching her.

“Thinking you might need to ask Stark for a suit of armour at this point,” she replied easily, ripping off long strips of medical tape. “Then again, you’d probably hate to be seen in anything but those red leather jackets of yours.”

“Got that right.” Gamora could feel his laughter rumble through his entire body, causing her own shoulder to shake slightly in response. She had him hold the new bandages against his torso as she taped them down, running her fingers along his abdomen so she could check for air bubbles.

Satisfied, she leaned away from him. “All done.” She began packing away the kit, head down as she concentrated on her task, when she felt Peter’s lips brush against her face, kissing her right on the cheek, ever so gently.

“Thanks, Gamora.” He stood, stretching and cracking his knuckles as if nothing had happened, though she could feel her own heart hammering wildly in her chest, even as he left the room to begin his day.

______

Despite looking forward to their “date”, Gamora still felt the heavy sensation of impending demise settling deep into her bones, something, be it knowledge or instinct, that told her that Thanos wasn’t just inevitable, he was almost here. She had messaged Yondu in the middle of the night after Peter had fallen asleep, hoping that he hadn’t done anything stupid, like take off the way Nebula had done, or drowned himself in shitty beer. Thankfully, Rocket had apparently decided to distract him with some work, claiming that he had ways of improving Yondu’s headfin, though she knew Rocket had told her long ago there wasn’t much more he could do.

To Gamora’s surprise, Nebula seemed calmer than she was about the Black Order’s presence. For someone who had been so desperate to fight them not too long ago, her sister appeared to have matured, accepting that they couldn’t go in, swords and guns ablaze, and expect results. Maybe, as terrible as it sounded, finding out that the Ravagers had been taken out so easily by just one of them had made Nebula realize the gravity of the situation. She stepped more carefully, snapped a little less.

The two of them spent the morning with Mantis at the gym, teaching her how to fall. Her instincts were very good, for the most part, but she still had moments where she second-guessed herself and ended up tumbling to the ground in a heap. At the very least, she needed to learn how to fall with minimal injury.

“Again,” Nebula snapped as Mantis landed on her shoulder for the third time that morning. “A fall like that from an immense height, and you will shatter your entire arm. Does that sound fun to you?” The other girl shook her head, somewhat terrified.

In a way, this was Nebula’s way of showing that she cared. If she didn’t like Mantis, she wouldn’t be putting this much effort into her training, probably would have never agreed to help in the first place. The anger in her eyes wasn’t out of dislike for Mantis, it was out of frustration that she couldn’t get what she wanted out of her so that she would be stronger. Still, it was difficult for Gamora to watch it happen. Mantis, like every other Academy student, had never grown up in the constant presence of the Mad Titan himself, could never dream of what he was capable of, or what he would be like should he get his hands on the completed Infinity Gauntlet. Maybe Nebula had been onto something when she had taken off from the school, though not for the right reasons.

As Mantis landed on her elbow and let out a cry of pain, it suddenly became clear to Gamora. It wasn’t about taking on Thanos alone. It was about taking the fight away from the school, away from all these people who didn’t deserve to be hurt. The Ravagers hadn’t even seen Yondu since he joined the Guardians, and yet they’d been punished, merely for being an associate of an associate. Men (of admittedly loose morals and questionable honour) had been killed, just to prove that Thanos would, and could, do it. What was to become of everyone else? The students that had never signed up for this war, the faculty that tried their damnedest to protect them. And then, the rest of the planet.

Suddenly, the thought of being “stronger together” sounded quite ominous. It threatened the very nature of this school, of this life that they lived. She and Nebula needed to find associates who could handle Thanos, not good-hearted, strong, but ultimately underpowered people like...well, like Peter. He was a surprisingly good tactician, incredible with his quad blasters, and quick on his feet, but Thanos would swat him like a fly.

Gamora hadn’t told him, but a new nightmare had become a part of her consistent rotation, one in which Thanos had arrived to Earth, ready for battle, and crushed the Guardians, one by one, under his feet before her very eyes. He would always save Peter for last. “Terrans,” he would sneer in her face. “Gamora, you disappoint me. Falling for a Terran. A primitive race, wouldn’t you say? Weak.”

“PETER!” she would scream, every single time, arms outstretched, but it was too late. She couldn’t reach him. Peter would be crumpled on the ground, oddly bloodless (the only thing that signified she was still dreaming), though there would be a smear of it across his face, the same dark red as his beloved jacket. When she finally managed to get to him, taking his rapidly-cooling hand in hers, all she would be able to sense was Thanos’s mocking laughter from above.

“Useless,” he would say. “Absolutely useless. Not just the boy, but you. You were my favourite daughter, Gamora, but no longer. You think yourself above being a weapon? You want to live the life of a stupid Terran? I made you. I built you, every system in your body, every bit of metal that you feel, holding you together. And now, I’m taking you apart, piece by piece.”

It scared her every time, how realistic it felt. How plausible it was for Thanos to arrive and do such a thing. Gamora knew now that she would do anything to prevent it from happening, not just to the Guardians, but to everyone else at this school, everyone else on this planet.

Even if it meant leaving it behind.

______

Peter, meanwhile, had decided to spend most of his day with Yondu. It had been quite awhile since they had some quality “bro time”, as Peter enthusiastically called it, like their old Ravager days, when it had just been the two of them against the galaxy. He always thought fondly of the times they pulled pranks while living on the Eclector together, sneaking sleeping pills (or if they were feeling especially terrible, laxatives) into the food of the commanders that picked on them, or hiding razor blades in the captain’s seat cushions (Stakar was unfortunately too clever to fall for it, considering he had pulled similar practical jokes when he was younger).

Unfortunately for Yondu, it wasn’t a day for pranks, but rather, a day for homework. Peter was relatively caught up, thanks to Gamora’s insistence (as in, she told him she wouldn’t watch Return of the Jedi until he had finished everything), but Yondu, ever the slacker, was astonishingly behind.

“You tryna torture me or somethin’?” Yondu grumbled, reaching for his eraser. “I got better things to do, Quill.”

“Like what?” Peter snorted. He was half-distracted by his tablet, having become rather obsessed with checking in on articles about the Guardians. As cute as Groot was, Peter wanted to talk to Pepper about taking legal action against people who published photos of the little one without his knowledge. Photo of Groot splashing in a birdbath? Adorable. Photo of Groot getting stuck under a pile of rubble and crying for help? Deplorable. “All you ever do around here is nap and chase girls.”

“Wha’d’ya mean, like what?” Yondu got to his feet, throwing his pencil down. From where Peter was sitting, he could tell Yondu hadn’t written a single word or number since they had sat down at the table thirty minutes ago. “Your girlfriend ain’t tell you what’s happened?”

Peter frowned in confusion. He hadn’t really seen Yondu since he and the girls had gone to talk to Director Fury, but he had chalked it up to Yondu wanting to avoid everyone else, as he often did. “I’m gonna let that comment slide - what did Fury say?”

Yondu laughed, though it was cold, cruel, mocking, even. “Thought you two shared everything. How about that? Quill, a bunch of our boys got killed. All ‘cause of Gamora’s daddy sending one of his minions after ‘em. That’s what.”

Peter felt every muscle in his body seize up at the mere thought of Thanos. The Ravagers, as awful as they could be, didn’t deserve to die, especially not in whatever ruthless, cold-hearted manner that had befallen them. “Yondu, I...I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not blaming your girl,” he sighed, sitting back down. There was an exhaustion to him that Peter had never seen before, a stark contrast to his usual devil-may-care attitude, not a salacious smirk or lecherous grin in sight. “She ain’t the one forcin’ me to be a Guardian.”

“So you’re saying this is my fault.”

“Don’t be stupid, boy,” Yondu snapped. “I didn’t have to follow ya here, did I? I made my own choice, and now my boys have paid the price when they aren’t the ones buying. And now, I’m wonderin’ whether this was all worth it, and I’ll bet you Gamora’s thinkin’ the same thing. After all, she’s on the straight and narrow now, but she’s getting people killed just by being on this here planet. How much longer you think she can take that kind of guilt?”

In lieu of answering, Peter carried on instead. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Probably to protect you or some shit,” Yondu said, rolling his eyes. “Me? I think you need to know, Quill, ‘cause you’re the one that’s gonna figure out how to get us outta this mess. What’re you gonna do about it, huh?”

Honestly, Peter didn’t want to think about it, what it could mean if Thanos was getting that much closer. As Mantis had said to him, Gamora was the rational one - she probably had a million tactical plans dancing about in her brain, but all he could think about was how much it would ruin everything that everyone had worked so hard for. The entire planet, decimated. It would make Ronan and Ego look like child’s play. “Kraglin - did he make it?”

“Krag’s okay. He’s a tough one,” Yondu said, cracking the slightest of smiles at the thought of his second-in-command. “I told him, he should be captain while I’m away. Didn’t listen to me. Now, he’s probably considerin’.”

“He’d be great at it,” Peter said gently. He folded his hands in his lap, unsure of what else to say that wasn’t already implied. All those faces he’d forgotten, men he hadn’t seen in at least two years. Though he had never been as close to Kraglin as both of them were to Yondu, he had also been something of a brother, another scrappy kid who enjoyed mischief and mayhem. Kraglin had enjoyed listening to Peter’s music, becoming particularly fond of a few songs, so much so that Peter would hear him humming under his breath while he worked. On days where Yondu had been too cranky, or as they got older, too busy to spend time with them, he and Kraglin would do their chores together, while Peter left his music running, turning up the volume as high as he could without annoying the other Ravagers.

Those men? Now dead and gone, or as Gamora had put it at the funeral so many weeks ago, “only one person who knew them at all”. Yondu, who had chosen to follow Peter here instead of remain back with them. He had picked one guy, someone who wasn’t even supposed to become a Ravager, was intended to be delivered to his father until Yondu had begged Stakar to let Peter stay, over the hundreds that he had led for a good five years in Stakar’s absence. Peter wondered how many of the remaining Ravagers would resent Peter for the rest of their lives.

______

Nebula, for all her feigned ignorance and apathy, could immediately tell when something was wrong with Gamora. They had spent years learning how to conceal emotions, and yet there would still be slips, a little twitch of her eye or a quirk of her mouth, that would reveal her true feelings. The moment Mantis had hit the mat wrong and Gamora had nearly jumped at the impact, Nebula knew it wasn’t just about the fall.

After Mantis left the gym to pick up lunch for the three of them, Nebula pulled Gamora aside, away from the barre where she was stretching. “What is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Gamora said evenly, rubbing at her forearm where Nebula had grabbed her.

“Don’t play dumb, sister, it doesn’t suit you,” Nebula hissed. “You had a pretty strong reaction to Mantis’s fall, but it wasn’t the thought of injury that scared you. So, don’t make me ask again.”

Gamora’s eyes flickered sideways, almost guilty, before she answered. “Our classmates, our friends. They aren’t ready for the kind of pain that Thanos will cause. You were right, Nebula. We shouldn’t be here. But not because we need to take on Thanos, but because we need to protect them from Thanos. Those Ravagers were killed because of us, not Yondu. And here we are, at a school full of Earth’s mightiest heroes, ripe for the taking. All it would take is one single ambush, and everyone here is gone. Dead. Then this planet falls, because no one will be left to protect them.” She let out a long sigh, throwing herself down onto the mat and flinging out her arms in front of her, unusually childlike in her movements. “I thought we had more time than this, Nebula. But we don’t.”

Nebula’s dark gaze fixated on her sister’s face. She looked shaken in a way she never had before. Gamora had been frightened a handful of times when they were under Thanos’s thumb - spooked at the first dead body she had laid eyes on, conflicted over her own power when she had been presented with the Godslayer, terrified when Thanos had first torn her apart. But now, there was more at stake than just her own life, and it left her paralyzed with fear.

“You want to leave.” It wasn’t a question. “After all your lectures about being better with other people by your side, about teamwork, you wish to abandon them.”

“I want to save them,” Gamora said fiercely. “We need to stop Thanos before he gets to Terra. We know him better than anyone, we grew up alongside his children, the Black Order. We can’t get the upper hand if we remain here, with too many people to worry about.”

“But it’s too late for you,” Nebula said mockingly, leaning over her sister and prodding her finger aggressively into Gamora’s chest. “You can’t detach yourself from these people, Gamora, you love them. You’ve always been softer than me, always thinking about the innocent lives you’ve taken in the name of order.”

“Is that what you call Thanos’s treachery? Order?”

“I answered to Ronan, not Thanos, and look what became of him. Because of you and your precious Guardians!” Nebula shouted. Other students were starting to stare, wondering if they should get Ares and have him break up the inevitable fight before it began. “All because you were so concerned - ”

“Billions of people were going to die, Nebula! Does that not matter to you? And it’s going to happen again, and again, unless we make this stop.” Tears threatened to leak from Gamora’s eyes, her voice cracking on her last words. She ducked into her elbow to hide her face, though she knew Nebula had already caught a glimpse of her expression. “And yes. Maybe I have become too attached to this planet, these people, to ever truly be objective,” she continued, trembling. “And that’s why we should at least consider the possibility of leaving to finish the job.”

Nebula exhaled slowly, her breath shaky. Though she would deny it to her grave, and it seemed as if that possibility were closer than ever, she was worried as well. “You are telling me what I said to you a month ago. Don’t have to ask me twice.” She finally settled onto the mat beside her sister, casting an almost shy glance down at the floor. “Please make up your mind at some point, will you? It’s exhausting to put up with your indecision.” Gamora let out a watery chuckle, reaching over to squeeze Nebula’s arm.

______

Peter arrived at the quad at 7:30 PM sharp, feeling a bit idiotic standing around alone. Gamora had messaged him two minutes ago that she would be late, as Groot apparently needed something from her, but part of him worried that she wasn’t going to show. It felt like it was a real date, but instead of a six-month anniversary, as they were calling it, there was a sense of it being the first date.

After all, it wasn’t like their weekend trip into the city, or their movie nights, or even all the times they had fallen asleep together. They were meeting up instead of arriving together, and Peter had planned out something special, despite the fact they could have very easily just told Janet and the others any sort of lie and have them accept it as gospel. Peter wasn’t sure who he and Gamora were trying to fool at this point.

“Hey.” He turned to see Gamora standing there, who seemed to have taken the suggestion of “come as you are” quite seriously. She was in the clothes she had left the Milano in this morning, her “uniform” of a tank top and leggings, along with her red leather duster coat, possibly his favourite piece of clothing that she owned. He liked to think it was her subconscious decision to match him, to present a united front as leaders of the Guardians, or perhaps more intimately, her equivalent of couples’ matching T-shirts. “I managed to convince Groot that Mantis could help him. I don’t really know what he wanted, but it didn’t seem too urgent. So, what are we doing tonight?”

Peter smiled, reaching out for her hand. “You trust me?”

“Somehow, yes,” she said teasingly, sliding their palms together, tangling her fingers with his. They walked in silence for a couple minutes, occasionally gazing up at the night sky or glancing around them, before she spoke again. “Strange, isn’t it? How it all came down to this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me if I had any regrets, doing this,” Gamora replied, squeezing his hand. “And thinking back, maybe I have just one. Not getting you know you better beforehand.”

“Imagine how much smoother missions would’ve gone if we knew how to talk to each other,” Peter chuckled.

“We’re never going to fully agree on tactics, Quill,” she said, though she was smiling and nodding as she said it. “I just mean...all the time we spent apart, never being curious beyond ‘how are you today’, never asking the right questions. When you almost died on Ego’s planet, I had nothing to say to you. How did I let that happen?”

“You weren’t in the business of heart-to-hearts, Gamora, that’s not a bad thing. It wouldn’t have been genuine if you had poked around any more than you did.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong again.” He turned to look at her, noting the melancholy in her eyes. “I think...I’ve always cared about you and the others, ever since we became a team. It was a matter of me not understanding how to show it.”

“Makes sense,” Peter nodded, swallowing. “Thanos...he taught you loyalty, not sentiment. Right?”

“His teachings have shaped me into who I am today,” Gamora said wistfully, her eyelids flickering, the sunset bathing her in orange light that left shadows dancing across her cheeks. She fell silent again, though Peter was half-hoping she would bring up the Ravagers, what Thanos had done to them. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t, though he had a feeling it was the cause of the crease in her brow.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at a completely vacant grove. It was an area of the campus that was undeveloped, where students - couples, mostly - went to for privacy. It wasn’t particularly special, aside from being relatively quiet and far away from the heavily populated areas of the school, so Gamora couldn’t help but gasp a little at the transformation. One particular area had a perfect semi-circular formation of trees, with branches that hung low enough to provide some shade during the day, and at night, created curtains of moonlight. Peter had borrowed the string lights Janet had used for the fundraiser festival and hung them along the tree trunks. He had an old gingham blanket laid out on the grass, one of its edges right up against the treeline, and on top of it, a wicker picnic basket and a box of -

Gamora laughed at the sight, letting go of Peter’s hand so she could cover her mouth. “Pizza.”

“I don’t know what your favourite food is, but I know you like pizza,” Peter admitted. He opened the basket and pulled out some drink cans and his holo-tab. “Classic date night - dinner and a movie?”

“In complete privacy,” she said, glancing around. There were some students spending their evening studying outside, but they were far enough that they wouldn’t be able to hear anything, and, once she and Peter were tucked away underneath the trees, wouldn’t be able to see them, either.

“We’ll take another selfie for Janet.”

“That’s not what I was thinking about.” She took his hand again and walked them over, once again, seemingly finishing her train of thought in her own head. Peter figured it would be best not to pry, half-hoping that this “date” (and he hated that he had to use mental quotation marks) would finally provide him some answers. To what, he couldn’t be sure yet.

They sat cross-legged as they began eating their dinner, knees brushing as Peter found himself fidgeting a little more than usual. Gamora had steered the conversation towards Guardians talk, as she often did, and how they needed to review the budget again as soon as the prize money would be presented to them in about three week’s time.

“We’ve got at least ten thousand units in the bag, hey?” Peter said, smiling at her.

“Plus another fifty for Best Team,” she added, holding out her soda can for him to knock his against. He complied, grinning wider.

After they had finished eating and chatting, Peter pulled up Return of the Jedi, projecting it onto the thick canopy of branches above them. As they laid down, he was surprised to find Gamora instinctively curling up against him, despite not being in his cramped bed back on the Milano, her hair fanning out slightly onto his shoulder. She was otherwise quite silent as they watched, as she often was, enraptured in the stories of the space heroes. “You still think we’re like Han and Leia?” Peter whispered as they watched her free him from the carbonite.

Gamora didn’t reply until after Leia had finished kissing Han. “I wouldn’t mind it,” she said softly. If anything, her response left Peter with more questions than answers, but maybe he wasn’t as far off as he had originally thought. After the movie was over, she asked about other movies he had in mind for her, though he could only give her half-hearted answers, as it felt like his head was up among the stars. “Peter, are you okay?”

He was startled at the sound of his first name, though he tried his best not to show it. “I was just...thinking. There was this story I always wanted to tell you, but I never really thought you would care to hear it, but, y’know, now, you probably wouldn’t mind. It’s about my mom.”

Her hand came to rest on his bicep, her face partially buried in his shoulder. “Go on.”

“So, uh, when I was a kid, my mom and I, we had this tradition. She came from a somewhat religious family, and even though she wasn’t super religious herself, we went to church on Sunday mornings like she had done when she was a kid. And I didn’t really like going because I just wanted to play outside instead of sitting still for hours at a time. But she promised that we could do something fun on Sunday night if I went with her. Sometimes it’d be going to the playground, or Dairy Queen to get Dilly Bars, but my favourite thing to do was watch the stars. My mom drove this old rust bucket of a pickup truck, and it’s not the kind of car people expected someone like her to drive, but she loved it. We’d go out to the open field about ten minutes from our house, and put out this blanket on the truck bed, turn on the Walkman, and watch the sky until midnight. Wasn’t the greatest idea for a kid my age on a school night, and I’d always be tired all Monday, but it was one of the best memories I had with her.”

“This very blanket?” Gamora asked, patting the gingham beneath them. It was definitely worn through, with a couple of mismatched patches where there had been holes, and what looked like a stubborn mustard stain somewhere near her hip. It was a blanket that had very clearly been well loved, and well taken care of.

“It was one of the things I had in my backpack when I - well. I took a lot of stuff from the house and put ‘em in there so I could bring it to the hospital. I thought that there had to be something that could help her get better.” Peter inhaled sharply. “Good thing I did, since it was the only thing I had on me when the Ravagers abducted me. Meant I could carry memories of her with me, take her out to space. She would’ve loved it.” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, clearing his throat hastily as he resumed his story. “I remember, one night, I asked my mom where my nickname came from. I mean, now I kinda know it came from her sort of knowing who my dad really was, and I don’t like that part of it, but at the time, I had no idea. I said, ‘which star am I, Mom? Out of all the stars in the night sky, which one am I?’. And she told me, ‘baby, whichever one you want to be’.”

Gamora could feel tears burning in her eyes as well, turning her face to fully bury herself into Peter’s shoulder so he wouldn’t see. Out of all the things she had learned about him, one of the first she had ever known, long before they began their little game born of boredom, was his everlasting love and admiration of his mother. It was, in fact, one of the very first questions she had asked him, back on Knowhere - the significance of his Walkman, why he valued it so much. It also made her a little furious, thinking of Ego and his careless, blasé attitude towards Meredith and by extension, Peter himself. “Question,” she said, though she wondered if she was going to regret asking. “Do you still think of your father sometimes, even after what he did to you? To her?”

“A little bit less every day,” he answered, turning onto his side so they were face-to-face. “Though...a part of me wishes I had learned more about him. Like what he did to the other kids, or how he treated Mantis. She won’t tell me anything, and the fact that she won’t answer makes me worry that there’s more to it than just apathy. Or...how he managed to kill my mother despite knowing he was falling in love with her.” He swallowed loudly. “I can’t imagine having it in me to intentionally hurt someone that I loved.”

“But what if knowing made you more sympathetic? What if it changed your mind about killing him?”

“Nothing could change my mind about that. He killed her, and he almost killed all of you.” There was a ferocity in his expression that told her he would have never given it a second thought. “Um, question.” He cleared his throat. “What’s the happiest you’ve ever been?”

It felt like a sudden mood whiplash. Was that really what Peter wanted to know, right in this moment? Their faces were so close that Gamora could count his eyelashes, see the hints of teardrops glossing them over. She wanted to wipe the dampness on his cheeks away. “There’s no specific thing I can think of. Anytime I’m with you and the others, I suppose. Even when we fight.”

He cracked a weak smile, reaching for his Walkman as he spoke. “I’m glad that we can be that for you. I mean, we’re all like that for each other, right? I mean, we’re a pretty freaking weird group of people, but we somehow managed to make a pretty good team. The ‘Best Team’, even!”

Peter got to his feet, holding out his hand for Gamora to take, pulling her up to join him. With her nod of permission, he slid the headphones neatly over her ears and pressed play, watching her face carefully. The music started off slow, almost melancholy, as he took her hands up once again and began turning them in slow, even paces. They hadn’t danced since the hotel room, two whole months ago, before Nebula had disappeared, before their botched mission, before all the understandings and misunderstandings in between. He leaned in closer, his mouth ghosting over her ear, singing softly. “Stop...the world...tonight...oh, let me stay...in your arms...forever...” Tentatively, Gamora let her head rest against his chest, a motion that would have felt so foreign before, now a comfort, his steady heartbeat drumming beneath her cheek. “And where...all my dreams...start to spin...love...oh, love...begins...” He trailed off, pulling away from her so he could look at her face. There was a different sort of sadness on his face this time, like a resignation to something she couldn’t recognize.

“Peter?”

“When were you planning on telling me about the Ravagers?”

“Peter,” she said again, forlornly. “I...that wasn’t mine to tell. It was Yondu’s men.”

“Killed by Thanos’s employees.” Though she expected him to sound angry, or at the very least, frustrated, he sounded just about as emotionally drained as he looked. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you? Leave the school, permanently.”

“I don’t want to, but maybe I don’t have a choice,” Gamora frowned. “You said once that I came out of my upbringing wanting to help people, and this is how I can help. Taking the fight elsewhere, so Thanos can face Nebula and I directly.”

“That’s not a fight, that’s a suicide mission,” he said fiercely. “Gamora, you’re going against what you’ve been telling Nebula this whole time. You’ve made it pretty clear that you agree with me - we aren’t friends, we’re family. We’re capable of more when we’re with each other. All you’re going to accomplish by going against Thanos alone is get yourself killed faster, and maybe delay him a little bit longer before he gets here.”

“I never said I liked the idea of leaving,” Gamora protested. “But maybe it has to be done. And I’m not asking you to come with me, because let’s be real here, Peter, you won’t be able to help at all.”

“Right, because I’m the weak one.”

“Because you didn’t train like Nebula and I have!” she yelled, fully yanking herself away from him, taking off the headphones and shoving them into his chest. “Stop thinking that I see you as an inferior being, Peter. It’s a matter of different skill sets, and - ”

“ - no, you see, I got it all wrong! Back on Ego, I thought you wanted me to keep being Terran so you’d be the stronger one, but you asking me if I regret killing him - you want me to have my Celestial powers back, don’t you? Otherwise you think I’m useless!”

“Stop putting words in my mouth,” she hissed. “And stop talking yourself down so I’ll talk you back up. I’m not here to make you feel better about yourself.”

“Then what are you here for, huh?” Peter looked triumphant as Gamora had finally fallen silent, arms folded across her chest in defiance. “What were all those words you threw at me? Despicable, dishonourable, faithless, insufferable? Is that what you look for in a friend? What happened to all that when we started this, this fake relationship of ours?”

“I don’t have to listen to this. And I don’t have to answer to you,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “If you insist on acting like a child, it’ll make it that much easier for me to leave.”

For the first time in ages, Gamora felt like she wanted to run away from him. This had never been a good idea from the start, had it? This relationship ruse, all just a prolonged extension of how she had become too comfortable on this planet, with these people. Holding his hand, chatting for hours, sharing his bed, tentatively flirting with him in the hopes he would understand her intentions. Teaching Mantis how to fight, training with Drax, combating her worst fears with Rocket, looking after Groot - every single moment she had spent with the others was another moment in which she hesitated about leaving to finish the job. She loved them too much.

Loved him too much.

“Gamora,” Peter sighed, reaching for her. “That was...I shouldn’t have said it. But can you really blame a guy for wanting to know?”

“You’re asking me what I have to gain out of your friendship? As if this is just some transaction?” She laughed hollowly, sending shivers down his spine. “Then let me turn this around on you. I barely remember our first meeting, but I remember how insistent you were on tailing me ever since. You made it pretty clear that you saw me as another potential notch on your bedpost. Are you sure that’s not still the case?”

He pulled away again, rage burning in his usually sweet, gentle eyes. Gamora stepped back, somewhat fearful. “Is that what you’ve been thinking this whole time? That I’ve been doing all this with the endgame of sleeping with you? Are we really having this argument?”

She let out a long, unsteady breath, her arms falling to her side, limp. “All we ever seem to do is fight,” Gamora said resignedly, echoing the words Nebula had said to her on Ego’s planet. “Maybe this doesn’t make us family after all. Maybe we’re just a group of people who have spent too long holding on to each other, and we can’t figure out how to let go.”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself to feel better about leaving.” Peter sat back down, leaning forward to wrap his arms around his bent knees. She had always thought of him as being tall, broad, somewhat physically imposing (until Drax came around), but now, she had never seen him look so small. “Gamora...if you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you. I’ll want to try, but it’s your life, your choice, not mine. But to be honest? I don’t really know what I’m gonna do without you. And if you leave, we’ll probably never see each other again. You know that, right?”

His head came to rest on his knees, giving her the option of walking away without him watching her go. He could feel his breath coming in shallow, as if he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs to go on. To his surprise, he felt Gamora kneeling next to him, her arms wrapping around his entire body, her hair flung haphazardly across his back, her face buried against his. She smelled like her shampoo - nothing floral or fruity, but something more woodsy, musky. Warm. And her arms, strong as ever, holding him almost too tight, yet just enough to keep him together. Because yeah, maybe he was starting to fall apart.

His legs went slack against the ground, and, feeling brave, Peter slowly pulled Gamora onto his lap, her knees braced on either side of his hips. She pressed her face into his neck, and his went to her shoulders, his arms around her waist, inhaling slowly. “Hey. Do...do you have any idea how much I care about you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied softly. “But I think we’re both too afraid to know the answer.”

“Especially if you leave,” he said, lifting his head so he could look at her. “Maybe it’s better we don’t know.”

“Or maybe,” she said slowly, “we’ll just...know, and choose not to believe it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he laughed weakly.

“Peter...I’ll tell you when I make my decision. But it’s going to have to be soon. I can’t let it happen again.”

He wisely didn’t tell her that Thanos could very well be killing hundreds of thousands of people right now, and they would never know. All he wanted to feel was her hands interlaced against his back, her full weight resting against his chest, trusting that he would keep her steady. It was stupid, but he felt as if the moment he let go, she would leave and never come back.

They stayed intertwined for what felt like forever and not enough. After all of this, Peter felt like he had failed. All his improvised speeches, his insistence on teamwork, all the missions and jobs in the world, none of which would convince her to stay when it came down to the endgame, the biggest endeavour of her life. And he’d failed in another way, too - being too cowardly to tell her how he felt. They were close, so close, to saying it out loud, that he was certain if he kissed her now, she would respond in kind, but what good would that do if she were leaving anyways? It was like he had said to Yondu so long ago - he wasn’t in the business of getting hurt. Besides, it would be selfish of him to think that her feelings for him alone would convince her not to go. He was important to her, that much he knew, but he also knew that in a way, Gamora felt as if defeating Thanos had become her true purpose in life, after everything she had done under his rule. As the stupid saying goes, Peter thought as he slowly dropped his arms away from her waist. If you love something, set it free. And I do. I do love her.

Gamora got to her feet, though not before kissing Peter on the cheek so quickly that he wasn’t sure he hadn’t just imagined it. She wiped at her eyes despite them looking relatively dry, smiling at him tentatively. “We should head back now, it’s almost midnight. Director’s not gonna be happy.”

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat for what felt like the fiftieth time that night. He quickly packed everything up and stood, allowing Gamora to take his hand and walk them back to the dorms.

“So, what’s the happiest you’ve ever been?” she asked.

“Probably when we first became a team.” This surprised her - she had been expecting another memory of his mother. “It was like everything falling into place. Like I didn’t realize how much I needed other people until we all came together.”

“We were a disaster back then,” Gamora chuckled. “But...I know what you mean. Like we were biding our time until we found each other.”

Once they stopped outside of Gamora’s door, Peter turned to face her, taking both her hands in his. “So. When you look back at this, this, fake relationship of ours. What we’re like now, what we were like before. How much of it are you gonna take with you?”

Her eyes cast downwards to their joined hands, wondering how many more chances she would get to hold them. Looking back up, she opened her mouth to answer.

a/n: well, they sort of confessed, didn't they? here is the song they danced to until it all went kind of sideways.

next chapter is a bit of fun - it's going to be entirely flashbacks (aka gamora's answer to peter's question), detailing how they met and became the team we know and love in this mash-up universe of mine. i hope you guys will like it, since it sort of reimagines the events of both movies.

[restlessmaknae]

Beth’s birthday prompt party!

Let me invite all of you to my first ever prompt party which will start right now and last until my birthday which is September 6th. The date is subject to change, it depends on how many of you will join me. One thing is for sure, I’m going to upload the first finished drabble(s) on my birthday and keep uploading them until they are all up.

What’s a prompt party, you might ask. It’s a fancy name for telling you that I’m taking drabble requests for a week because my birthday is coming up and I want to thank you all for staying with me, being my friend and supporting my fics! Sadly, I can’t give you anything else besides my virtual bear hugs and the fics that I’m writing. *sending those virtual hugs*

During this prompt party, you have the chance to tell me what you would like to read. I came up with a list of prompts (narrowed down the prompts from the following lists: 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5), so you can choose a boy group member, a prompt from my list and even add some extra details if you wish.

Here’s my list:

1.“Fancy seeing you here.” “I work here.”

2.“Right now, I don’t know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge” “Can I pick?”

3.“If I go through with this, I die. If I don’t, we all die.”

4.“No, no, you do NOT want me navigating. I’ll accidentally navigate us off a cliff.”

5.“Is that blood?” “No?” “That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question.”

6.“This is all your fault.” “I hope so.”

7.“Excuse me! I was a superhero for ten whole minutes!” “And in that time you got kidnapped and we had to come to the rescue.”

8.“I am way too sober for this.”

9.“You’re not as evil as people think you are.” “No. I’m much worse.”

10.“Did you just… agree with me?” “Oh, I wish I could take-““Nope! You said it! No take-backs!”

11.“This plan of yours is going to get us killed. Of course, I’m in.”

12.“Don’t mind me, I’ll just be in the corner having another existential crisis.”

13.“Can you please go be stupid somewhere that’s away from me?”

14.“What are you afraid of?” “You.”

15.“Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?” “Yes.” “What if I break his nose a little?”

16.“You don’t strike me as a professional criminal.” “That’s what makes me so good at it.”

17.“I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you!” “And I’m trying to subtly avoid it!”

18.“Unless I screw this up again, I’m going to marry you.” “Well you better not mess this up”

19.“Whether you believe in me or not, I will continue to exist.”

20.“Take my hand.” “Why?” “I’m trying to ask you to marry me, so take my damn hand!”

21.“You’re a psychopath.” “I prefer creative.”

22.“You look…” “Beautiful, I know. Can we move on?”

23.“She’s my best friend. That hasn’t changed.” “It’s clear your feelings for her has.”

24.“I saved your life.” “You pushed me off a building.”

25.“How do we keep getting into these situations?” “Eleven years of friendship and I still don’t know.”

26.“I want to go home.” “And I want to go to the moon. It ain’t happening sweetheart. Time to accept that.”

27.“What now?” “I don’t know. I thought the jump would kill us.”

28.“I hate you.” “Why? I’m lovely.”

29.“You love her don’t you?” “Was it that obvious?”

30.“I was just kind of hoping that you’d, y’know…. fall in love with me.”

31.“You know, no one bothered me this much when I was dead.”

32.“Nope. I can’t go to hell. Satan still has a restraining order against me.”

33. "I'm here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses."

34. "I'm cold. Come closer."

35. "I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.”

36. "People are jerks, but not you."

37. "I'll share the blankets with you."

38. "Who changed the thermostat settings? I’m freezing to death."

39. "You can put your cold feet on me."

40. "Your stray red item turned my whites pink."

41. "A thunderstorm is rolling through town and you’re scared of lightening/thunder, so I’ll protect you."

42. "There was a power outage and now we have to have dinner by candlelight."

43. "Rock Paper Scissors to see who has to go talk to the neighbors upstairs for being too loud."

44. "I just came home to you crying while watching a movie, please tell me what’s going on."

45. "Our AC is out and it’s the middle of the summer."

46. "You found me crying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night surrounded by a shattered jelly jar."

47. "My parents are coming over in 10 minutes, so please put some clothes on."

48. "We’re repainting the apartment and going to the hardware store together to pick out color swatches."

49. "IF YOU USE UP ALL THE HOT WATER ONE MORE TIME IM GOING TO BAN YOU TO THE COUCH FOR A MONTH."

50. "My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date, so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years failing to get over them."

51. "I’m really drunk, please help me get safely out of the way, so I don’t ruin our friend’s wedding."

52. "This is probably a bad time, but marry me?"

53. "We’ve become the clingy newlyweds you always complained about. "

54. "I know you haven’t had the best experience with dogs in the past but look at its face please please can we keep it?"

55. "I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary, but everything that could go wrong, did go wrong."

56. "I beat you at Mario Kart and now you're banishing me to the couch for the night?”

57. "I surprised you with tickets to see our favorite band… WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SURPRISED ME WITH TICKETS TO SEE THEM TOO?"

58. "You had a business trip and I missed you so much that I kind of tore up the house in your absence like a dog with separation anxiety… sorry?"

59. "You’re lucky I’m pregnant!"

60. "Can you help me up, your child is pretty heavy."

61. "I can’t be pregnant… or….OH MY GOD! "

62. "It’s 2 am but you’re craving cake and we’re both up anyway so let’s bake in our underwear."

63. "I think someone had a little accident with the finger paint."

64. "Our kid is totally the one who wanted to build a pillow fort, not me."

65. "Ooh…someone’s got a tummy ache."

66. "Okay fine, one more story, but then you really have to go to bed."

67. “you’re super short and i’m sorry but it’s really really cute whenever you try to reach that book on the top shelf here lemme help you- oh no don’t be embarrassed, your face is all red and you’re even more adorable now i am going to die” au

68. “i’m a biker and one day i was biking in your neighborhood while you just happened to be outside watering the plants and since you’re so goddamn cute i accidentally steered into a pole and now you’re giving me first aid (holy shit you’re even cuter up close)” au /“you’re biking through my neighborhood and you ran into a pole so now i’m really concerned and patching you up, oh my gosh you’re really hot even though you have a bloody nose” au

69. “i’m at a karaoke bar and i’m sober enough to realize that your voice singing my absolute favorite song is the most beautiful thing i’ve ever heard, and you caught me staring and winked at me oh shit” au

70. “you fell asleep on my shoulder on the plane ride and i would ask you to move but you look so comfy and adorable when you sleep. also you smell really good and the feeling of your breath on my skin is somewhat relaxing, maybe we can go out to lunch in this shitty airport when you wake up?” au

71. “i’m one of those talk show stars that walks up to random people on the streets and asks them really obscure questions, and you’re really cute and camera shy and i’m sorry but it’s adorable how you stutter when you’re nervous, uh, perhaps when there aren’t so many cameras surrounding me i can buy you a drink?” au

72. “will you stop flirting with me you just got seriously injured and i’m the EMT trying to tend to your wounds in the ambulance, i don’t give a fuck that i look cute when i’m concerned, you’re lucky you’re not dead you dipshit” au

73. “you have fire powers and i have ice powers and one day you save my ass and even though we’re supposed to be rivals, you’re actually really really cute and warm can i just stay in your arms forever bc i am perpetually cold” au /“you have ice powers and i have fire powers and i save your sorry ass from getting hurt/killed, okay i know we’re supposed to be rivals according to every legend ever but you’re adorable and wow you’re really cold, would you like me to warm you up?” au

74. “we’re coworkers and all the other employees ship us so just for fun we all go out clubbing/to a bar but little do we know its actually a plot they set up to get us to realize our supposed love for each other. wait you’re actually a really good dancer and your laugh is so endearing and, holy shit, maybe our colleagues were right” au

75. “i catch you at the bus terminal shivering your ass off because it’s 30 degrees and for some godforsaken reason you’re wearing a short sleeve t shirt, so out of pity i lend you my hoodie and you look so surprised it’s the cutest thing i’ve ever seen, setting aside the fact that you’re a goddamn idiot, do you want to get sick?” au / “you look so sad and cold that i just tell you to keep my hoodie b/c you obviously need it more than i do. a week later i see you at a coffee shop/book store/etc. and you’re wearing my hoodie which you look so fucking tiny and cute in, and you just saw me and you look super embarrassed; you offer me it back but i tell you it suits you more and we end up talking and i buy you a drink” au

76. “we’re partners in cupcake wars and i never realized how cute you look with frosting on your face until now but no distractions, we have to fucking pummel these other teams because we are the best goddamn cupcake company in the universe WE CAN DO THIS” au

77. “i accidentally called the wrong skype number and it turns out the person i called was you and you’re in a different time zone, so it’s 3am where you are and you just woke up and look fucking pissed but you’re cute so… let’s do this again when you’re not asleep. i’m more than willing to stay up into the dead of night to talk to you” au

78. “i’m a radio host who indirectly mentions you and flirts with you on my show but you’re so goddamn clueless, please just notice me i’m so desperate for you it’s kind of sad” au

angst

79. “There was never an us.”

80. “You can hate me, you can dislike me but how can you cheat on me?”

81. “Breaking up, was our best choice…right?”

82. “Just because I don’t show or say that it hurt, doesn’t mean I don’t have any feelings.”

83. “I loved you. Loved.”

84. “I’m so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend!”

85. “You’re just another player, and it’s a game over to us.”

86. „I lost my little sibling in IKEA and I need your help finding them.”

87. „I work at the animal shelter and you always come in to pet the cats when you’re sad.”

88. “Oh so you’re the camp counselor my little sibling keeps talking about”

89. „We both have friends who party too hard and we keep running into each other in the bathroom while we hold their hair back.”

90. „We showed up at a book club meeting but we’re the only people there who are not interested in Nicholas Sparks.”

91. „We both signed up for an adventure cycling class and we’re the slowest people so we always end up biking together at the back.”

92. „Our little siblings are on rival sports teams and I’ve made it my life goal to cheer louder than you.”

93. „Someone gave me a fake phone number and it’s actually yours.”

94. “Money talks bullshit walks, pay me and I’ll do it for you.”

95. “Stop being so careless one of these days you will get us both killed”

96. “I’m sorry but the number you have dialed is currently unavailable please don’t try again.”

97. “Can you please tell me why we are locked in the school’s janitor closet?”

98. “Get your ass over here i’m not done with you yet!”

99. “Should I suppose to take it as an insult or a compliment?”

100. “I have a huge hangover and am not in the mood to argue with you. So whatever it is I think it can wait until tomorrow.”

101. “I can’t believe that you left me alone with this idiot.”

102. “It seems like you are having a hard time over there, need help?”

103. “Do you think he is still breathing?”

104. “Why is it so hard for you to admit you were wrong?”

105. “Somehow being a ghost has made you hotter”

106. “I’m glad to be your travelling companion in this journey of regret”

107. “You’re lucky I’m tired because if I was fully awake I would have already shoved you off this roof.”

108. „I know I keep coming to the cookie shop and for some reason it’s always your shift but don’t you dare judge me– I need these for my sanity.”

109. „It’s 3 am and I’m still in the library studying for finals and I’m losing my grip on reality and I think I just saw a ghost.”

110. „You’re baking cookies in the communal kitchen at 3 AM and I’m angry but also really hungry.”

111. „I've been sitting in this seat all semester why did you decide to sit in it today?”

(the ones crossed out have already been requested *-*)

How can you request? Leave your request(s) in my ask box. For example, you can say that you want #66 with Chen and that’s it. Or you want #26 with Jin and you think it would be interesting as a gang AU. Or you would like a best friends to lovers story with Jae from Day6 and #4. Really, you can ask for anything! It’s your time to request a story you would like to read, so don’t be afraid! I don’t bite. ;)

How many drabbles can you request? You can ask for more drabbles but keep in mind that it might take a while until I’ll finish writing them all.

What can/can’t you ask for? I’m not comfortable writing smut, so please don’t ask for those. Furthermore, I don’t write yaoi, yuri, genderbender, mpreg, my stories are always member x OC/reader centered. Groups that I’ll take requests for are the ones that I’m familiar with and love, so which are the following: BTS, EXO, GOT7, Day6, Monsta X, Pentagon, NCT, KNK, BtoB, SHINee, VIXX, Astro, Seventeen, The Rose, B1A4, SF9 and Teen Top.

Any questions? My ask is always open, so I’m looking forward to your requests and any questions that you might have.

I hope lots of you will join me and we can have a wonderful prompt party together! I love you all! <3 Thank you for staying with me! <3

[kris10inger]

Preorder Open Wounds

AMAZON

AWWM | Adult Contemporary Romance

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OPEN WOUNDS: ABEL & HOPE

 Missing Teal and Trent from Inevitable: Love & War? Check out Rogue in Love, the first of many standalones featuring Trent Reed's new employees!

A Love Against the Odds Novel

If you could see your life from inception to your death, would you change things or would you let your death play out as fate intended?

Abel is in search of only two things. A stable job and a safe place to lay his head at night after a mistake that cost him eighteen months of his life. As if fate had plans made only for him, Abel is offered a complicated job, and a chance to redeem himself to his old boss, from an old friend. And then he meets her… And Abel adds another item to his list—Hope.

At only twenty-six, Hope has only ever slept with one man, and at her boss’s unsolicited advice, Hope plans to forget the abuse and degradation she suffered at her husband's hand by seducing and bedding the next man she meets. Only, after Hope finds a promise of death at her doorstep, her plans are derailed and only chance at staying alive rests on the dedication of her new bodyguard and her own sheer will to live the life she deserves.

*Lightly Edited Preview*

        Hope curiously eyed the gaudy, purple and pink plastic engagement ring on Thea’s finger, as she held her hand up in the air. Her friend gazed lovingly at it while wiggling her fingers. Bright, adoring eyes met Hope’s as she gushed over the ring and continued the story of how Lex had proposed.

        “I’d given it to him as a gift, never once realizing he’d use it to ask me to marry him all these years later.” Thea sighed dramatically, as if she could barely continue without another squeal bubbling out. “He bent down on one knee, looked me in the eyes, and promised me forever.”

            Hope had zoned out halfway through the story. Not that Lex’s proposal hadn't been adorable and romantic, but she often found herself drowning in memories of the past whenever anyone brought up marriage. The idea was to leave the past in New York, but Hope found that hard to do with all the wedding talk and secrets she held inside. She smiled, but seeing the solemn look Thea gave her, she was sure it hadn't reached her eyes.

            “Oh, shit,” her best friend and boss said. “I keep forgetting that you—”

            “Stop right there.” Hope waved a dismissive hand at her words. “Don’t think for a second I am comparing this to my own life. You get to enjoy this. Lex is amazing, and nothing like Mark.” She crossed her arms over her chest in frustration. Hope had never meant to make her feel like she couldn’t talk openly, because Thea was the only person in her life who she could converse with candidly.

            Thea’s soft voice met her ears. “I know, but it’s like talking about getting pregnant around someone who can’t carry a child. You want to be excited, but you also don’t want to hurt their feelings.”

            “I know, and that puts a damper on your good news.” Hope shook off the sadness threatening to overwhelm her. “No more walking on egg shells around me.” Thea’s engagement was amazing news, and Hope was acting like a big-ass wet rag. She pushed back the agonizing memories and smiled again; this time, conveying her happiness for a friend who’d saved her ass. “Can we both agree to put my shitty past where it belongs? Way the hell behind us. Now, let me see this thing.”

Thea moved closer, placing the hideous ring out for her inspection. Seeing Hope’s reaction, her nose wrinkled and her forehead dipped. “I know, right?” Hope looked up to her. “Ugly as sin, isn’t it?”

Both women laughed at the truth because the ring was seriously fugly.

Thea took her hand back. “Maybe you should get out there and try the dating game again?”

Hope groaned inwardly. She didn’t want to hear the ‘just move on’ speech again. Because she had tried—with no success. After looking high and low, no matter who she ended up dating, she always found them to be . . . lacking. Unsure of whether it was her past, or her inability to trust, she found it painfully hard to even consider dating anymore.

“Hell, I say, the next man who walks through that door,” Thea turned to Hope with a calculating smile, “you ask on a date!”

            Hope’s eyes widened at the crazy idea. The possibility of her hitting up the next man to walk through the clinic’s front door was laughable. “No. I couldn’t possibly. You’re crazy. I don’t think—”

            “That’s right. Don’t think,” Thea spurred. “Just do.”

            Hope huffed, then saw something out of the corner of her eye. Turning to look at the door, she jolted in surprise. “Oh, for cripes’ sake.” Ms. Collis stood there, angrily banging on the door, leaving fist-sized smudge marks on the glass—a line of people standing impatiently behind her. Good thing Hope had painstakingly cleaned the doors the night before. “I think today is going to be one of those days. Is it a full moon?”

            Thea followed her gaze. “Oh, God help us.” Running to the door, she turned the locks and guided the woman behind Ms. Collis inside. As she passed the front desk, she elevated the woman’s bloody arm and whispered to Hope, “The next hot guy that isn’t dying . . . ask him out.” 

Hope’s face flushed with embarrassment.

            Behind her, a crowd of people entered, some looking as if they were drowning in snot, while others bled, or just appeared angry and annoyed. Regardless of the clientele, Hope loved her job. She’d always enjoyed the feeling of a good day’s work. In fact, the past six months at the clinic had been a way for Hope to temporarily ignore the past and focus on a possible future.

And in the beginning, Thea had been able to keep her employment hush-hush, paving the way for Hope to work without fear of one day looking up to find Mark, waiting for her. But now that employment papers were signed and turned in, Hope’s worrying increased with each passing day. She shuddered. The idea of Mark following her to Blackwater had become a waking nightmare and a monster under her bed to fear.

Pushing those feelings aside, she looked up and smiled at Ms. Collis, handing her a clipboard with documents attached. Seconds later, a biker in leather pants—crazy in this heat—a ripped and bloody shirt the size of a mountain pushed through the doors of the clinic, blood gushing from his nose. He favored his right side, and pressed his free hand to a wound seeping blood through the tattered shirt. Hope’s eyes travelled up and up the huge behemoth until her eyes met and connected with his unconcerned gaze.

Shaking herself from the shock of such a huge man, Hope pointed to the side door where the motorcycle club, or the MC, had claimed the waiting room as their own. Locals who weren’t affiliated with the gang, sat in the open waiting room to the right, while the MC took residence in the small room to the left. He nodded his head and made his way to the door.

            “Ma’am, if you could take a seat and fill this out, I’ll be right back,” Hope instructed. Ms. Collis was in to have her cast taken off. It wasn’t the least bit serious, so she would have to wait her turn as Hope triaged the more seriously injured. Hope made her way over to the bleeding man, who still hadn't opened the door to the waiting room.

            “Sir?” She came up behind him and he swiveled around to meet her gaze. Unfortunately, since Thea’s grandfather had ties with the MC before he passed, most of the gang came to her clinic when in need of medical help that didn’t require the coroner. At first, Hope had doubts, but when she got the text from Mark threatening her life if she didn’t return to his side in New York, Hope decided it wasn’t so bad if these huge, gun-toting men were there often.

            The man’s dark eyes flickered to the waiting room. “Didn’t want to get blood on the door.” His deep voice and heavy, Irish brogue caught her off guard. This man was new, or at least, had never been in the clinic while Hope was there. Since she worked five days a week, and twelve hours a day, she assumed he’d just been one of the lucky few in the MC to not have gotten stabbed recently.

            Hope glanced to his bloody hands and nodded. “Okay. Let me get that for you.” She went to open the door, when Lucy, the clinic’s receptionist, burst through the front doors, apologizing for being late as she headed to the counter. Now that she was at work, Hope could take him straight back and get him stitched up. “Actually, why don’t we have you come on back with me. We’ll see how serious these wounds are.”

He followed her to one of the rooms in the back. Hope hadn't bothered getting him to fill out any forms. The MC members never bothered with the patient information form, and always paid in cash. Hell, the clinic would probably go belly up without the money the men provided.

            Sliding a pair of purple gloves on her hands, Hope pointed to the paper-lined bed. “Have a seat.” Making her way to the cabinet, she found a pair of sterilized scissors. Routinely, Hope would ask the patient what happened, but when it came to these men, the fewer questions you asked, the better.

            “You have any allergies?”

            “No, ma’am.”

Hope was long past the initial shock of the MC members having manners. At first, she hadn't expected them to be polite, or for them to pay, but they did, and they weren’t raucous in the least. It was extraordinarily ironic that men who looked like beasts could be so composed and gentle, yet Mark, who normally wore a three-piece suit, could transform into the monster of her wildest nightmares.  

            After a quick assessment, she knew his side needed to be treated first. Asking him to lift his arm, she cut open his shirt and inspected the knife wound. Unfortunately, she’d dealt with stab wounds often, in her professional and personal life. His wound was shallow and not life threatening. A few stitches and he’d be fine. Then she could treat his nose.

            “I don’t need any stitches, doc.”

            Rolling her eyes for the second time today, she said, “Yes, you do and you are getting them.” Ignoring the growl emanating from his chest, she continued to clean the wound. At 5’5 and one-hundred-twenty pounds, Hope didn’t stand a chance against the mountain man, but she knew the first and most important thing to remember when dealing with the MC members. Never show weakness. Once you did that, your ass was grass. The men, while not complete assholes, would play on your fear. Find one sexy? Well, you’d most likely end up on your back.

          Hope didn’t have time for that shit. And while Mark had put the fear of God in her, Hope was resolute that not all men were created equal. On top of that, she and Thea, were off-limits to the members, per some scary man named Gator.

            “Piss and vinegar."  His laughter pulled her from her thoughts. “Well, doc . . .”

            “Not a doctor, just a nurse.” She winced at her words. She wasn’t just a nurse, and she regretted saying it like that. Doctors and nurses worked hand in hand, and Hope thought neither would be as effective without the other.

            “Well, nurse . . .” He ducked his head down blonde hair falling over his eyes, he pushed the strands away as he tried to read her name badge.

            “Hope,” she supplied, just as she stuck the first injection of lidocaine into his skin.

            “I’d rather you fuss with my nose,” he grunted. “My face is my money maker.”

            Hope couldn’t help but laugh. This man, while not ugly, would not be considered a model under any circumstances. His face held a crooked nose, dark eyes, and wide-set lips. Maybe he could model tactic wear for the military?

            She glanced up as coal-colored eyes shined with mirth. “Oh really? And here I thought it was your great fashion sense.” Hope plucked at the bloodied Foreigner shirt.

          Glancing down, the huge man smiled. “Yeah, that too.”

          Shaking her head, she set up her equipment and got to work. The man, who she later found out was called Spooky, asked her out a few times before realizing it wasn’t going to happen. Mark had been persistent as well. He’d asked her out a total of twenty-two times, before she’d broken down and finally said yes. Back then, she hadn't known it was a sign of systemic hostility; she’d been naïve enough to consider it charming that a man like Mark would be do persistent in wanting to get to know her.

         Hope finished up with Spooky’s stitches and nose and sent him on his way. After cleaning up the room, she headed back out to see Lucy wrestling a line out the door. Being the only low-income clinic in Blackwater had the entire staff working twelve-hour days. Hope jumped into the madness until the line dwindled, and the sun was no longer in the sky.

         Heading home that night, she huffed up the flight of stairs leading to her home, and froze when she made it to the top of the landing. There, in front of her door, sat a blue and white package. Her heart jumped in her throat, heaving her into the past.

       After every beating, he’d sent her the very same Tiffany-colored box. On one particularly horrific evening, Mark had broken her ring finger, then rewarded her with a three-carat diamond, and a card stating, When that nasty mistake heals, you can wear this.

      Hope opened her eyes, confused as to when she’d shut them. With trembling fingers, she opened the box. Inside was a diamond-studded choker. Beautiful, white diamonds sparkled in a straight line, surrounded by blood-red rubies, in a platinum setting. Covering her mouth, Hope held in a strangled sob. She didn’t want to leave Blackwater, but once again he’d found her.

     Mark’s face flashed in her mind and Hope had the sudden urge to run. Instead, she reached into her purse and pulled out the Glock Thea had made her buy. Scanning the area, she didn’t find anything out of place. How had he tracked her down? She’d been so careful.

     It has to be my new employment status. Thea had been paying her under the table, but the clinic received government funds, and in the long run, it could have hurt Thea’s clinic. So, Hope had made things right and her official paperwork was turned in.

     Hope turned back to go inside and noticed a note tucked inside her door. She pulled it out and flipped the card open.

 I’ll give you to the count of three to come back home to me.

ONE.

[kris10inger]

Meet Abel and Hope

Only, after Hope finds a promise of death at her doorstep, her plans are derailed and only chance at staying alive rests on the dedication of her new bodyguard and her own sheer will to live the life she deserves. Inger Iversen presents a standalone contemporary AWWM Romance in her best-selling Love Against the Odds world featuring Hope & Abel.

Hope curiously eyed the gaudy, purple and pink, plastic engagement ring, as Thea held her hand up in the air. Her friend gazed lovingly at it while wiggling her fingers in delight. Bright, adoring eyes met Hope’s as Thea continued the story of how Lex had proposed.

“I’d given it to him as a gift, never once realizing he’d use it to ask me to marry him all these years later.” She sighed dramatically, as if she could barely continue without another squeal bubbling out. “He bent down on one knee, looked me in the eyes, and promised me forever.”

Hope had zoned out halfway through the story. Not that Lex’s proposal hadn’t been adorable and romantic, but she often found herself drowning in memories of the past whenever anyone brought up marriage. The idea was to leave the past in New York, but Hope found that hard to do with all the wedding talk and secrets she held inside. She smiled, but seeing the solemn look Thea gave her, she was sure it hadn’t reached her eyes.

            “Oh, shit,” her best friend and boss said. “I keep forgetting that you—”

            “Stop right there.” Hope waved a dismissive hand at her words. “Don’t think for a second I am comparing this to my own life. You get to enjoy this. Lex is amazing, and nothing like Mark.” She crossed her arms over her chest in frustration. Hope had never meant to make her feel like she couldn’t talk openly, because Thea was the only person in her life who she could converse with candidly.

            Thea’s soft voice met her ears. “I know, but it’s like talking about getting pregnant around someone who can’t carry a child. You want to be excited, but you also don’t want to be insensitive and hurt their feelings.”

            “I know, and that puts a damper on your good news.” Hope shook off the sadness threatening to overwhelm her. “No more walking on eggshells when you’re around me.” Thea’s engagement was amazing news, and Hope was acting like a big-ass wet rag. Pushing back the agonizing memories, she smiled again; this time conveying her happiness for a friend who’d saved her ass. “Can we both agree to put my shitty past where it belongs? Way the hell behind us. Now, let me see this thing.”

Thea moved closer, placing the hideous ring out for her inspection. Seeing Hope’s reaction, her nose wrinkled and her forehead dipped. “I know, right?” Hope looked up to her. “Ugly as sin, isn’t it?”

Both women laughed at the truth because the ring was seriously fugly.

Thea took her hand back. “Maybe you should get out there and try the dating game again?”

Hope groaned inwardly. She didn’t want to hear the ‘just move on’ speech again. Because she had tried—with no success. After looking high and low, no matter who she ended up dating, she always found them to be . . . lacking. Unsure of whether it was her past, her inability to trust, or the fact that she was on the run she found it painfully hard to even consider dating anymore.

“Hell, I say the next man who walks through that door,” Thea turned to Hope with a calculating smile, “you ask on a date!”

            Hope’s eyes widened at the crazy idea. The possibility of her hitting up the next man to walk through the clinic’s front door was laughable. “No. I couldn’t possibly. You’re crazy. I don’t think—”

            “That’s right. Don’t think,” Thea spurred, “just do.”

            Hope huffed, then saw something out of the corner of her eye. Turning to look at the door, she jolted in surprise. “Oh, for cripes’ sake.” Ms. Collis stood there, angrily banging on the door, leaving fist-sized smudge marks on the glass—a line of people standing impatiently behind her. Good thing Hope had painstakingly cleaned the doors the night before. “I think today is going to be one of those days. Is it a full moon?”

            Thea followed her gaze. “Oh, God help us.” Running to the door, she turned the locks and guided the woman behind Ms. Collis inside. As she passed the front desk, she elevated the woman’s bloody arm and whispered to Hope, “The next hot guy that isn’t dying . . . ask him out.”

Hope’s face flushed with embarrassment.

            Behind her, a crowd of people entered, some looking as if they were drowning in snot, while others bled, or just appeared angry and annoyed. Regardless of the clientele, Hope loved her job. She’d always enjoyed the feeling of a good day’s work. In fact, the past six months at the clinic had been a way for Hope to temporarily ignore the past and focus on a possible future.

And in the beginning, Thea had been able to keep her employment hush-hush, paving the way for Hope to work without fear of one day looking up to find Mark waiting for her. But now that employment papers were signed and turned in, Hope’s worrying increased with each passing day. She shuddered. The idea of Mark following her to Blackwater had become a waking nightmare and a monster under her bed to fear.

Pushing those feelings aside, she looked up and smiled at Ms. Collis, who was handing her a clipboard with documents attached. Seconds later, a biker in leather pants—crazy, in this heat—pushed through the doors of the clinic, blood gushing from his nose. He favored his right side, and pressed his free hand to a wound seeping blood through his tattered shirt. Hope’s eyes traveled up and up the huge behemoth, until her eyes connected with his unconcerned gaze.

Shaking herself from the shock of such a huge man, Hope pointed to the side door where the motorcycle club, or the MC, had claimed the waiting room as their own. Locals who weren’t affiliated with the gang sat in the open waiting room to the right, while the MC took residence in the small room to the left. He nodded his head and made his way to the door.

            “Ma’am, if you could take a seat and fill this out, I’ll be right back,” Hope instructed. Ms. Collis was in to have her cast taken off. It wasn’t the least bit serious, so she would have to wait her turn as Hope triaged the more critically injured. She made her way over to the bleeding man, who still hadn’t opened the door to the waiting room.

            “Sir?” She came up behind him and he swiveled around. Unfortunately, since Thea’s grandfather had ties with the MC before he passed, most of the gang came to her clinic when in need of medical help that didn’t require the coroner. At first, Hope had doubts, but when she got the text from Mark threatening her life if she didn’t return to his side in New York, she decided it wasn’t so bad if these huge, gun-toting men were there often.

            The man’s dark eyes flickered to the waiting room. “Didn’t want to get blood on the door.” His deep voice and heavy Irish brogue caught her off guard. This man was new, or at least, had never been in the clinic while Hope was there. Since she worked five days a week, and twelve hours a day, she assumed he’d just been one of the lucky few in the MC to not have gotten stabbed recently.

            Hope glanced to his bloody hands and nodded. “Okay. Let me get that for you.” She went to open the door, when Lucy, the clinic’s receptionist, burst through the front doors, apologizing for being late as she headed to the counter. Now that she was at work, Hope could take him straight back, get him stitched up, and send him on his way. “Actually, why don’t we have you come on back with me. We’ll see how serious these wounds are.”

He followed her to one of the rooms in the back. Hope hadn’t bothered getting him to fill out any forms. The MC members never bothered with the patient information form, and always paid in cash. Hell, the clinic would probably go belly up without the money the men provided.

            Sliding a pair of purple gloves on her hands, Hope pointed to the paper-lined bed. “Have a seat.” She made her way to the cabinet, and found a pair of sterilized scissors. Routinely, Hope would ask the patient what happened, but when it came to these men, the fewer questions you asked, the better. “You have any allergies?”

            Dark eyes followed her movements as she worked. “No, ma’am.”

Hope was long past the initial shock of the MC members having manners. At first, she hadn’t expected them to be polite, or for them to pay, but they did, and they weren’t raucous in the least. It was extraordinarily ironic that men who looked like beasts could be so composed and gentle, yet Mark, who normally wore a three-piece suit, could transform into the monster of her wildest nightmares.

            After a quick assessment, she knew his side needed to be treated first. Asking him to lift his arm, she cut open his shirt and inspected the knife wound. Unfortunately, she’d dealt with stab wounds often in her professional and personal life. His wound was shallow and not life threatening. A few stitches and he’d be fine. Then she could treat his nose.

             “I don’t need any stitches, Doc.”

            Rolling her eyes for the second time today, she said, “Yes, you do and you are getting them.” Ignoring the growl emanating from his chest, she continued to clean the wound. At 5’5” and one hundred ten pounds, Hope didn’t stand a chance against the mountain man, but she knew the most important thing when dealing with the MC members—never show weakness. Once you did that, your ass was grass. The men, while not complete assholes, would play on your fear. Find one sexy? Well, you’d most likely end up on your back.

Hope didn’t have time for that shit. And while Mark had branded the fear of God in her, she was resolute that not all men were created equal. On top of that, she and Thea were off-limits to the members, per some scary, sharp-toothed man named Gator.

            “Piss and vinegar.” His laughter pulled her from her thoughts. “Well, Doc—”

            “Not a doctor, just a nurse.” She winced at her words. She wasn’t just a nurse, and she regretted saying it like that. Doctors and nurses worked hand in hand, and Hope thought neither would be as effective without the other.

            “Well, nurse . . .” Ducking his head down, auburn hair fell over his eyes, and he pushed the strands away as he tried to read her name badge.

            “Hope,” she supplied, just as she stuck the first injection of lidocaine into his skin.

            “I’d rather you fuss with my nose,” he grunted. “My face is my money maker.”

Hope couldn’t help but laugh. This man, while not ugly, would not be considered a model under any circumstances. His face held a crooked nose, dark eyes, and wide-set lips. Maybe he could model tactic wear for the military?

She looked up, her coal-colored eyes shining with mirth. “Oh really? And here I thought it was your great fashion sense.” Hope plucked at the bloodied Foreigner shirt.

Glancing down, the huge man grinned. “Yeah, that too.”

Shaking her head, she set up her equipment and got to work. The man, who she later found out was called Spooky, asked her out a few times before realizing it wasn’t going to happen. Mark had been persistent as well. He’d asked her out a total of twenty-two times, before she’d finally broken down and said yes. Back then, she hadn’t known it was a sign of systemic hostility; she’d been naïve enough to consider it charming that a man like Mark would be so persistent in wanting to get to know her.

Hope finished up with Spooky’s stitches and nose and sent him on his way. After cleaning up the room, she headed back out to see Lucy wrestling a line out the door. Being the only low-income clinic in Blackwater had the entire staff working twelve-hour days. Hope jumped into the madness until the line dwindled, and the sun was no longer in the sky.

Heading home that night, she huffed up the flight of stairs leading to her efficiency, and froze when she made it to the top of the landing. There, in front of her door, sat a blue and white package. Her heart jumped into her throat, heaving her into the past.

After every beating, he’d sent her the very same Tiffany-colored box. On one particularly horrific evening, Mark had broken her ring finger, then rewarded her with a three-carat diamond, and a card stating, When that nasty mistake heals, you can wear this.

 Hope opened her eyes, confused as to when she’d shut them. With trembling fingers, she opened the box. Inside was a diamond-studded choker. Beautiful, white diamonds sparkled in a straight line, surrounded by blood-red rubies, in a platinum setting. Covering her mouth, Hope held in a strangled sob. She didn’t want to leave Blackwater, but once again he’d found her sanctuary. The one place she’d fooled herself into believing she was safe. How could she have been so foolish as to think a man like Mark wouldn’t make her pay for leaving him? She was his possession—his toy.

Mark’s face flashed in her mind and Hope had the sudden urge to run. Instead, she reached into her purse and pulled out the Glock Thea had made her buy from a pawnshop. Scanning the area, she didn’t find anything out of place. How had he tracked her down? She’d been so careful.

It must be my new employment status. Thea had been paying her under the table, but the clinic received government funds, and in the long run, it could have hurt Thea’s clinic. So, Hope had made things right and her official paperwork was turned in.

Turning back to go inside, Hope noticed a note tucked inside the lip of her door. She pulled it out and flipped the card open.

 I’ll give you to the count of three to come back home to me.

ONE.

The next installment in the Teal and Trent series is coming soon! Preorder below!