#why would you see this old ass truck on the street and just decide its the perfect target for destruction

[1990danieljohnston]

there's nothing more destructive than a bored rich person

[pretendfan]

The Work Uniform

(Pairing)

Adrian Chase x Female reader

(Summary)

You get so hot when you see your boyfriend Adrian Chase wearing his Fennel Fields work uniform. So much so you decide to use it, well a part of it to reward him with a sexy surprise for when he returns from a mission with Peacemaker and the rest of the 11th street kids.

Let’s hope this is a good idea…

Word count

4k

Warnings

Porn without plot, that’s pretty much it, Oral sex (male receiving), kitchen sex, funny and fluffy, sexy and romantic, I know blergh but I love Adrian ok!, still can’t write smut but here we are, enjoy

WARNING 18 PLUS ONLY!!!

All day you had this idea in your head, one that excited your for so many reasons because you just knew Adrian would love it.

At least you hoped so…

The pair of you have been together for over a year and you had never been happier so tonight you wanted to surprise him.

Every time you saw your boyfriend in his work uniform it made you smile and feel a little (ok, very) turned on.

You knew it was ridiculous but when Adrian did up the buttons on his deep red shirt he looked really fucking good, especially when he left a couple undone at the top framing his Adam’s apple whilst showing off his long neck.

His trousers were black and plain but fitted so they clung to his thighs and butt which you knew was firm after all the times you’ve grabbed his peachy ass during sex.

His hat was one of his accessories and something you knew he absolutely loathed to wear but he always looked so cute at the end of a shift with random curly tufts sticking out at the back and always a stray one at the front.

The last thing he had to wear which he wore tied tightly around his waist was the item that you currently had on, with nothing else.

It had been a great idea in practice, putting on Adrian’s apron which of course left very little to the imagination.

But once it was on neatly and tied firmly around your waist you started to get doubts which meant you was double guessing yourself at the same time.

A hundred and one what ifs…

The fact that Adrian was running late wasn’t helping matters either making you wonder if this was a good idea at all and would Adrian even like it?

Feeling like a fool for spending ages in the shower scrubbing your skin to within an inch of its life just so you felt good but your adorable boyfriend wasn’t even here to see you.

Adrian meanwhile was wondering why you hadn’t responded to his text message earlier but it didn’t matter he was on the way to yours as soon as he got back to base with the rest of the team.

Fighting as Vigilante was the best thing in the world but he couldn’t wait to see you after a busy day out in the field hunting down criminals and making them pay, with so much blood and violence protecting his friends and of course you.

Fresh out of his costume which definitely needed washing Adrian had changed in the van (much to everyone else’s annoyance) into a pair of jeans and a faded green tee shirt whilst readjusting his glasses because he felt nervously excited to see you.

Once finally at their headquarters the “11th street kids” exited the old van which they used for their missions all weary from the job besides Adrian who was pointing at Chris’s car hurrying him along to it.

“Dude can’t you just get an Uber to Y/N’s place?” Questions Chris in frustration adding “I’ve been with you for two days man-“

“You promised you would give me a ride!” Groaned Adrian causing his BFF to roll his eyes heavenward muttering something under his breath.

Adrian then gives Chris his very best puppy dog eyed look hoping it would do the trick because it always worked on Y/N.

“Fuck it, ok, fine!” Chris snapped “Just hurry up I need to go grab a celebratory beer before the bars close.”

“Hey!” John yelled at your retreating back the tech guy sounded pissed off “ We still need to empty the equipment out of the truck fuckers!”

“I have to go see Y/N!“ Adrian shrugs in John’s direction as he continue to back away slowly to his destination, Chris’ car.

“It shouldn’t be the muscles job to carry all the shit back inside, you should figure it out with Leota!” Chris yells back with smug grin on his face.

“Sweet! Are you including me in that muscle category because I-“

“Of course not dude! .” Chris scoffs adding “Sure your body is looking way more toned nowadays but you have like baby muscles compared to mine.”

“I was a late bloomer we’ve established this!” Adrian groans whilst Chris ignores him calling for Eagly who drops down from the night sky landing perfectly next to Peacemaker.

“Just get in the goddamn car Adrian.” Chris states in a firm voice whilst Eagly hops into the back first sitting in his favourite place.

“Have I mentioned how exited I am to see Y/N tonight.” Adrian asks Chris who drowns him out with some music by the band Cinderella as he switches on his CD player.

But like always Adrian couldn’t read the room, or in this case car as he continues to talk despite Chris not hearing a single word he said.

Not for the first time tonight but Chris truly marvelled at the idea of Adrian having a girlfriend, Y/N was hot to boot so it just wasn’t right it just totally threw off the balance of everything.

“Look I know there is no better time to rock than after a mission but why hasn’t Y/N messaged me back?” Adrian whines after lowering the music then waving his phone around in his hand almost as if that would conjure up the very thing he wanted, a response from you.

“Maybe Y/N’s fed up with you already?” Chris questions with a chuckle when he catches the look on Adrian’s face.

“How could anyone be fed up with me?” Adrian groans clearly pissed off at the very notion of it.

“I have no fucking idea, dude.” Chris states his voice literally dripping with sarcasm but like usual it goes over Adrian’s head and out the open car window.

“I’ve called her like six times, left a few messages what if she’s forgotten about me coming round?” Adrian sulks the high from his mission long gone as he bites his lip deep in thought.

“What if I came with you and spoke to Y/N? Just warn her that you need to know where she is at all times, otherwise you will go back to stalking her again.” Chris shook his head in disbelief at how these two got together it was a pretty ridiculous story.

“Ok you can do the first thing. “Adrian nods waving an index finger in Chris’ direction but stating “ It was only a little light stalking and I think Y/N was very into it.”

Having missed a million calls from Adrian you start to wonder if he was worried about you the guy was very protective of you to say the least.

But you just knew that if you had answered one of his calls you would have instantly sounded off and then Adrian would have gone on high alert.

You wanted this to be a surprise, a sexy surprise and talking to him would have only shown how nervous you was right now.

Your heart jolts all the way up to your throat (or at least it feels that way) when you finally hear the key in the door ordering yourself to get a grip as you leaned up against the kitchen table.

“I’ve been waiting for you baby-“

You start to tell Adrian in a sexy voice but stop when you see the look on your boyfriends face quickly followed by Christopher Smith’ shocked one as he bursts out laughing.

“Now this was something I didn’t expect, looking good Y/N” Chris yells but you have already backed out from the kitchen heading to your bedroom to hide.

Standing there in the middle of your room you feel sick with embarrassment from the surprised look on Adrian’s face to Peacemaker’s laugh it was enough to tell you that this was a terrible idea.

“Dude you’ve got to leave now.” You hear Adrian who was trying to use his firm voice on Chris like he always tries on Eagly but as usual it has zero effect.

“Wearing your work uniform? That is very hot dude-“

You don’t hear what Chris says next thanks to Adrian trying not to yell at his bff shouting that he needs to leave right NOW…

Chris continues to laugh at Adrian knowing that he was cockblocking him right now which was a dick move but he just couldn’t help himself.

“Just go!” Adrian hisses at Chris looking back towards your bedroom as he says “ I need to see if Y/N is ok.”

“Don’t let me interrupt this romantic moment just-“ Chris descends into giggles again nudging Adrian hard in the ribs which was pretty much the breaking point for him.

“Just get the fuck out!” Adrian shouts making you lift your head from under your bedcovers where you had decided to hide forever more because you had never heard him shout at Chris like that before.

“Respect dude!” You hear Chris tell him admirably then in a mocking voice he yells loudly “ Good to see you Y/N.”

Not wanting to call out you stay hidden hoping Adrian wouldn’t come to find you once you heard the front door close finally.

Standing there in the kitchen Adrian waits for a beat then heads towards your bedroom not finding you until he realises you are clearly hiding under the covers.

“I can’t see you Y/N?” You hear Adrian ask which makes you smile despite yourself.

“I’m not here.” You reply stupidly feeling a new wave of embarrassment wash over your face.

“Well ok, seeing that your not here Y/N I will just talk to the bed instead.” Adrian informs you which makes you smirk all over again.

“Look, I’m so sorry I bought Chris round here with me it was a stupid move on my part.” Adrian begins with a sigh then adding “Even though it was kind of cool he got to see how hot you are.”

This makes you smile to yourself whilst Adrian continues to bitch about Chris and his super bad timing.

“I was worried about you not messaging me back but now I know you were here waiting for me with a very sexy surprise.” Hearing the smile in Adrian’s voice make you lift the covers off over your head.

“It was stupid I-“ You begin to speak but stop when you catch the look on Adrian’s face as you try to sit up on your knees covering yourself all the while.

“It was the opposite of stupid!” Adrian cheers then adds with a grin “So, what was gonna happen then I find you in my apron deliciously naked underneath and I get to have my wicked way with you?”

You nod as Adrian continues to grin then he asks “Well I’m still game if you are?”

“Really?” You nod in surprise making Adrian roll his eyes back at you.

“Of course! My hot girlfriend wearing my apron I gotta say it’s really doing it for me.”

“Let’s do this then.” You smirk back as Adrian leans forward to kiss you but you move out the way at the last second.

“What if you came back into the apartment?” You ask Adrian who gives you a funny look back as he explains he is right here now.

“Well we could have sex here in this boring old bed or you could fuck me any way you want in the kitchen?” You tell Adrian clocking the moment on his face when he realises what you was getting at it was very cute, damn him.

“Ohh right!” Adrian begins with a smile adding with a wink “I better go back outside then.”

You wait until you hear the door open and close before you get up readjusting the apron as you walk through back to the kitchen.

Running a hand through your hair you lean against the table but then thinking better of it you hop up there instead.

Adrian knocks loudly on the door then comes in, pretending to act shocked at the sight of you like something out of a cheap porno the very thought making you laugh to yourself.

This makes Adrian stop acting like he had no clue you would be here, and wearing his apron how scandalous to look at you with his heart eyes and not his murder-y eyes.

“You look so beautiful when you smile.” Adrian tells you of course this makes your heart flutter but it wasn’t the direction you wanted this going.

“Can you just come over here already?” You grin as Adrian listens and seconds later he is in front of you placing a hand either side of you on the table.

“So, what bought this on?” Adrian asks in a confident voice as you watch his eyes dip down to check out your curves showing through the apron.

“You just look super hot in your uniform.” You practically mumble but of course Adrian hears you as his eyes dart back up to meet yours.

“This uniform?“ Adrian asks stepping back with a confused look on his face as he asks “So you prefer me in this than my Vigilante costume?”

“What can I say? You look hot!” You giggle at the absurdity of this conversation which was prolonging the inevitable.

“Do you think about me in my uniform then when your alone?” Adrian questions with a sexy smirk which makes you blush crimson.

When you don’t instantly reply Adrian chuckles and says “ I will take that as a yes then!”

Leaning forward you go to kiss Adrian with a smile on your face that you was trying to hide but when he comes closer you move your head away.

You follow this pattern, moving close to Adrian’s lips letting yours barely touch his until he tries to initiate a kiss but you pull back at the last second.

“Stop teasing!” Adrian cries out as you notice how his pupils look blown making you bite your bottom lip in victory.

Adrian swiftly leans forward to kiss you finally but you go to pull back yet he has other ideas as he grabs onto the back of your head his lips colliding with yours, finally.

You sigh into his mouth feeling his hand move from you head putting both of them around your waist pulling you closer to the edge of the table.

Adrian now stood between your legs whilst the bottom half of the apron was ruched up on either side of your thighs.

You feel Adrian’s tongue gliding swiftly over yours which makes you groan into his open mouth.

“Turn around.” Adrian orders you in a firm voice moving his mouth from yours as you silently obey.

Sliding down from the table you keep eye contact with Adrian who is staring right back at you until you turn round placing your hands in front of you.

“I want to bend you and fuck you so badly right now.” Adrian states causing you to moan in response when you feel his hands palm your ass cheeks.

“Please, fuck me!” You whine at Adrian feeling how hot you was by the heat burning between your legs needing to feel his cock, hell even a finger right now inside you.

Adrian places his hands heavily on top of yours and you feel his hot breath against the back of your neck.

“Let’s not rush things Y/N .” Adrian tells you feeling his mouth meeting the skin on the left side of your neck, hitting that very spot which makes you arch your back.

Whilst your ass sticks out brushes against Adrian’s obvious bulge in his jeans which makes you moan deeply to yourself.

Adrian nips at your neck with his teeth chasing little bites with scattered kisses as he traces them slowly round to your back.

“I love it when you bite my neck, marking me as yours and yours only.” You tell Adrian with a soft sigh hearing his breath hitch in response.

“Hell yes you’re mine!” Adrian shouts moving his hands from yours placing them flat at your hips then gliding his finger tips across your stomach his touch making you shudder in response.

Soon Adrian moves his left hand to cup your breast whilst the right followed the same path brushing your firm nipple with the pad of this thumb teasing you to distraction which wasn’t fair you needed him now.

“Stop teasing!” You sigh arching your back against Adrian’s chest making him choke out a breath on response.

But Adrian doesn’t elaborate for once he remains silent his right hand slipping down from your nipple fingers flexing as his hands descend and you gasp when you feel him tease your wet folds apart.

“So wet for me.” Adrian states as he inserts his finger inside you then slowly builds up a rhythm as he starts to fuck you, adding another finger causing you to spread your legs wider apart.

“That feels so good.” You sigh slowly feeling your hips buck against Adrian’s skilled fingers adding pressure to your clit by resting his thumb on the nub barely moving it which drove you insane.

“Is this enough?” Adrian asks innocently as he starts to rotate his thumb but apply fuck all pressure which makes you grit your teeth in frustration.

“I need your cock inside me, now!” You tell Adrian practically crying out begging for some release because his teasing was relentless.

You smile to yourself when you hear Adrian unzip his jeans his knuckles brushing against your ass as his trousers drop to the floor and you hear the sound of him opening up a foil.

“About fucking time Chase.” You tell him with a grin imagining the look on Adrian’s face the smug confident smile that only appeared when he knew he had you.

“You want this?” Adrian asks as you feel the head of his cock sliding teasingly against your folds letting you take an inch then he would pull back.

Groaning in annoyance Adrian chuckles as he does it again only this time going a little deeper making a noise when he feels your pussy clench trying to keep him there inside you.

Adrian softly strokes the back of your head with has hand then placing it flush he pushes your head to the table so you were arched over, ready to receive him he strokes your head softly letting you know he would hurt you then he removes his hand again.

“You look so fucking good right now.” Adrian states pushing himself deep inside your cunt causing you to cry out in pleasure because you were finally filled with his glorious dick.

“Then fuck me good!” You ask Adrian turning your head so you could see his face, crazy sex eyes and all as he gives you a grin then pulling out he drives into you once more.

“I will fuck you so good! You will cum so hard on my cock! Adrian shouts in between thrusts.

But then you hear his voice practically beg you “Please come on my cock?“ Adrian groans breathing heavily as you heard the slapping of flesh hitting as you fucked.

“You always make me come so hard.” You cry out completely lost in the moment not sure if you ever wanted this to end.

Feeing your pussy flutter you knew you weren’t going to last long the thought makes your muscles pulse as you collide with your orgasm which greets you suddenly sending hot waves through your body as you shouted out Adrian’s name.

“Oh fuck that-“Adrian stops whatever he was about to say when he peaks shouting as he comes inside the condom his hips still moving as he chases his high.

“That was so good.” You sigh lifting yourself up from the table whilst Adrian got rid of the condom in a tissue.

Turning round you grin lazily at Adrian who is looking at you with wonder in his eyes having abandoned his jeans completely he now stood just in his tee shirt.

“I can go again soon.” Adrian informs you readjusting his wire framed glasses which makes you smile because the guy was adorable but jeez did he have some pretty sweet stamina.

“Well let me help you.” You tell him with a smile dropping to you knees on the cold linoleum floor whilst Adrian smiles down at you.

Taking off his T shirt finally your eyes scanned his toned body then dart down towards his cock which was already hard and waiting for you.

Moving forward you gently kiss the top of Adrian’s cock until you part your lips slowly and you take him fully on your mouth.

“Oh, fuck!” Adrian groans as you form a tight seal between your lips and his dick flicking your tongue along the underside as you let him fuck your mouth.

Adrian buries both his hands into your hair as he groans and you feel his thigh muscles shudder the thought that you was doing this to him, making his body respond in this way soaked you.

“Your mouth feels so good.” Adrian groans as he continues to grip onto your hair his knees quaking as one final thrust later you feel the salty sting of his cum hit the back of your throat as you suck him dry.

Looking up you see Adrian give you a watery smile as he comes back down from the sky moving his hands from your hair to place a thumb on your lips.

“Stand up.” Adrian tells you taking his other hand in yours to help you up off your knees as he leans down to give you a brief kiss on the lips.

You follow Adrian as he takes a seat down on one of the kitchen chairs motioning for you to sit on his lap.

“First I need to take this off.” You tell Adrian letting go of his hand as he watches you undo his apron and place it on the table.

“I won’t wash that apron ever again, I want it to always smell like you.” Adrian tells you with a smile which makes you grin back at him.

“That’s a sweet sentiment Adrian but I hope you had washed it before I put it on.” You tell him with a small laugh.

“I did, and hell yeah I’m sweet.” Adrian grins back as he takes one of your arms guiding you back towards his lap.

Straddling Adrian he leans forward to kiss you softly and you feel his cock push against your pussy lips which makes you sigh.

“You feel so good.” Adrian groans adding “ I just want to have sex with you all night.”

“Aren’t you tired from your last mission?” You ask him in a teasing voice complete with a giggle.

“I’m the opposite of tired! In fact I’m so awake I think we should fuck again.” Adrian tells you with a laugh but then adds “I do need to get up though to go grab something.”

“I’ve got you.” You tell Adrian with a grin turning back to face the table you grab the apron and put your hand inside the front pocket pulling out a condom.

“Not gonna lie, that was pretty hot.” Adrian chuckles as he watches you rip open the foil with your teeth then moments later he’s covered and you sink back down slowly onto his firm dick.

“Oh fuck.” You sigh happily wrapping your arms around Adrian’s firm neck as he kisses your cheek and then your lips.

Neither of you are in a hurry as you rock against Adrian slowly enjoying how he felt inside you as he kissed you ever so softly.

“I think we should do this all night.” You joke pulling away from Adrian’s lips rewarding him with a cheeky smile.

“Damn right!” Adrian groans as his movements soon start to get frantic and you grip your hands on his broad shoulders your pace quickens matching your own with his.

You both lose it at the same time with you throwing your head back as pleasure makes your body shake looking back down to see Adrian watching you with wide eyes.

“Fuck, your gorgeous Y/N” Adrian tells you with a happy sigh.

“I love you.” You tell Adrian with a shy smile wrapping your arms around him again as he kisses you back.

“Love you to Y/N” Adrian pulls away from your lips with a big smile on his face and it was all for you.

“Why not next time we role play?“ You ask Adrian who turns back round to face you with that confident smile that you wanted to frame.

“Let Vigilante come have some fun.” Nods Adrian who then tells me “I can put other things in my utility belt than bullets and small grenades.”

“What like lube and my favourite vibrator?“You joke along but Adrian nods in agreement at the idea of it but I only if he could watch you using said sex toy, which you would of course allow.

“But there is only one question?” Adrian begins then elaborates “ Mask on or off.”

“Mask on but only if I can wear it as well.” You joke but Adrian is back to nodding furiously in agreement again.

“I’m game if you are.” Adrian smiles happily.

I am.

[quokkacore]

with great power I [lee jeno]

summary: there are two things jeno loves most about his life. one being spiderman, the other being you, his best friend. there’s just one issue: after your father’s death, you decide you hate both spiderman and yourself.

pairing: lee jeno x reader

genre: superhero au, high school au, coming of age, best friends to strangers(ish) to lovers, fluff, ANGST, minor crack

warnings (for this chapter): language, violence, gun violence, the mafia, parental death, police presence, sexual references, bullying (ily san im sorry), the dreamies being dicks to each other, police corruption, towards the end jeno experiences something similar to sensory overload, americanized names, pop culture references, VERY jeno centric

song rec: we go up - nct dream // any song - zico // 21 questions - waterparks // talk (remix feat. megan thee stallion & yo gotti) - khalid // sunrise - ateez // i really like you - carly rae jepsen // dare - gorillaz // stray kids - the tortoise and the hare

word count: 10.5k

a/n: this is so late...... i blame attack on titan. but hey!! better late than never :] a huge thanks to @doderyscoffee​ for beta reading <3

main masterlist // story masterlist

chapter one: jeno and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week

Jeno despised Tuesdays. He was pretty sure that Tuesdays despised Jeno as well because all of his worst days just so happen to be Tuesdays. He was 96% sure that, if there was a god, his day off was on Tuesdays, or that the planets aligned in such a manner on Tuesdays that it caused universal despair and misery. If he was to take Donghyuck's word for it, his chakra attracted negative energy the most on Tuesdays.

When Jeno was 5, his goldfish Pippin had died on a Tuesday. When he had his ass handed to him on the playground by San Choi in the third grade, it was a Tuesday. And in the seventh grade, he'd failed his Spanish test, missed his bus and walked home in the rain only to find out that his Aunt Sunny was at work, he'd left his keys in his locker and that had to wait an hour before she got home to unlock it for him, all on a Tuesday. 

And wouldn't you know it, here he was, late for the first day of senior year, which was, of all days, a godforsaken Tuesday.

In his eternal wisdom, he'd stayed up gaming with Renjun until two in the morning, and because of it, slept through his three alarms, one set at six-thirty, the other at 6:45, the last one at 7:00. 

He'd woken up at 7:17, to the sound of his elderly neighbor's pet chihuahua barking at a pigeon, checked the time, immediately panicked, sped into the shower, gotten dressed in a haste, grabbed a few granola bars from the pantry, and ran out the door while trying to jam his backpack closed, and managed to catch the train at 7:40, which took about twenty minutes to get to his stop, plus a ten-minute walk to school, and class started at 8:10. Not to mention he’d have to stop by the office and pick up his schedule. At best, he’d be five minutes late to his first class. But tardies were tardies, regardless, and the last thing he needed was to lose his perfect attendance streak. 

He fished out his phone while standing on the train, waiting for his stop, scrolling through Instagram, and liking random pictures. A ping! from his phone caught his attention, then two, then a third. He smiled softly when your name popped up on his screen.

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM] 

y/n: i can sEE u online on ig u know

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

jeno: it's the school district's fault, why would they make the first day of school on a fkn TUESDAY 

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

jeno: it'll end up on my permanent record and i'm not gonna get into college and then i'm gonna die,,,

[7:52 AM] 

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear 

y/n: FIRST OF ALL permanent records dont even exist !!!!!! its propaganda duh

y/n: also ur literally never late 

y/n: im sure o n e tardy wont do anything chill

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

Don’t be stupid. Too little, too late, he thought, already having got off the train at a previous stop. Now, he was looking for an unoccupied street or alleyway, which, for once, was easy, taking a deep breath before he did the exact opposite of what you’d told him not to do. Don’t be stupid. 

The buildings are low, he thought to himself, it’ll be easier to see me. 

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

Jeno didn’t hesitate to use the web fluid to pull himself up onto the wall, climbing in a haste, before running and jumping onto the next building. He quickly built up a quick pace, using the web fluid occasionally to swing onto a building slightly out of jumping range. 

Signs in English, Chinese, Korean, and Spanish flew past him as he seemingly flew over the Queens traffic, leaving Flushing behind and crossing quickly into College Point quicker than he would if he took the train. He glanced to his left and caught a view of the bay, and far across it, the LaGuardia airport watchtower.

Jeno had lived in New York City his entire life. He knew Queens like the back of his hand, knew every dingy alleyway, every sketchy street, which restaurants to avoid if you didn’t want to get food poisoning, which convenience store aunties were the nicest and didn’t pinch his cheeks too hard. It was his home, and most likely would be for the rest of his life. 

But seeing it like this, flying past him below as he glided with ease from building to building would never cease to be a sight to him. It was like watching from the perspective of an outsider, seeing people in their cars, walking along the street gave him a brand new perspective. A Jeno’s eye view, he called it, since he was pretty sure he was the only one in New York City.

Another noise from his phone brought him back to reality. He shook his head, stopping briefly to catch his breath and fish out his phone briefly. 

[7:57 AM] 

y/n: let me know when u get here !!!

No time to respond, he put away the phone and continued his trek to school. He had less than ten minutes to get there. But he knew he was already at least five minutes away, much quicker than he would be if he had decided to stick to the train. He smiled a bit to himself, feeling ever so slightly smug.

The hustle and bustle of the city definitely proved challenging to find a place to land without many eyes, but he figured it out eventually, landing behind a dumpster in an alleyway behind a restaurant that he knew was about three or four blocks from the school. He figured it would be a lot better to take it on foot from here. The notebooks he was carrying in his backpack bounced up and down with every step he took. 

After what seemed like forever, the gates to the school appeared in his view, and Jeno felt a joy in his heaving chest, something he would have never thought would happen upon seeing the absolute hellhole that was Samuel Morse High School. 

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

Picking up his schedule was both quick and insanely long. He couldn’t stop himself from tapping his left foot while the secretary found his schedule and handed it to him. “Kibum, please hurry,” He muttered, and Kibum raised an eyebrow at him, but his gaze was teasing. “That’s Mr. Kim to you, in school at least.” 

He handed Jeno his schedule a few seconds later. “Tell your Aunt to come pick up her casserole dish, by the way. She left it at my house after my last viewing party.”

“The Bachelor?”

“Please. We’re too classy for that. Drag Race.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Jeno,” Kibum said, staring up at him from his desk, his gaze now much more serious, “Get to class. Happy first day of senior year.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

He managed to make it to chemistry class at 8:09 with seconds to spare. His eyes quickly scanned the room upon entering, hoping his friends were in the class with him. He caught a few familiar faces, most of which, like San Choi's, he wished to avoid. No one paid him any mind. Everyone was still speaking to the people next to them, no doubt exchanging stories of summer vacation. 

  A hand shot up towards the back, waving at him. A smile stretched across his face as he registered your face, feet not hesitating to carry him towards the empty seat next to you. His heart skipped a beat at seeing your smile, and he tried his best to ignore it.

“Hey,” You greeted, “That was fast. I thought you said you were gonna be late.”

Jeno shrugged, eyes landing on the dark shade of the lab table. “The train was a lot faster than I expected, apparently.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Why do you smell so bad?”

“I, uh… ran a little.” 

You grimaced, and Jeno tried to casually sniff at his slightly sweaty clothes. It’s not that bad. “I still don’t understand why you won’t let me drive you to school. You’re literally next door.”

“I don’t know,” He answered, rolling his eyes, “Maybe it’s because when it comes to that truck, you are absolutely insane. You won’t even let me drink water in that thing.”

The truck in question, a faded red 1998 Chevrolet S-10, had been your gift to yourself for your 17th birthday. You’d spent two summers saving up to buy yourself a truck, and that was what you were able to get for what you had. To say it was a huge piece of junk on wheels was an understatement. 

The thing smelled like mothballs no matter how many air fresheners you bought it, the engine sounded like an old man having a coughing fit, and there was a very suspicious stain in the backseat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times you scrubbed it. But for some reason, you treated it like it was your own baby. The amount of times you’d yelled at Jaemin for trying to put his feet on the dashboard was too high to count.

You mirrored his movement, eyes rolling as you sighed. “At least let me drive you home after school today. Maybe you can stay and we can finally watch Blade Runner.”

You’d been trying to get him to watch the film for almost a month now, begging and pleading because you insisted that he’d love it. He offered an awkward stare, before opening his backpack and pulling out a notebook. “Can’t,” He mumbled, “I’m headed into Manhattan. I have my internship afterwards.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said nonchalantly, eyebrows shooting up as you remembered, “Park Industries.” 

He was about to reply when Mrs. Baker, the chemistry teacher, finally entered. She’d been working at SMHS for 30 years and had never, apparently, been nice, if his Aunt Sunny’s stories were anything to go by. However, she had apparently always spoken as if she smoked two packs a day. She was rambling about the importance of making the most of senior year academically, adult responsibilities, college, and whatnot. You and Jeno exchanged glances often throughout the monologue, hoping it would end soon. 

“Enough of that,” She said after what seemed like an eternity, “Everyone quiet down, I’m going to call roll.”

Names were quickly called, and Jeno was ready to pull out a pencil and start working with you until Mrs Baker demanded a switch in seats, beginning to call on random names in an effort to deter everyone from speaking. 

"Please not with Choi, please not with Choi," Jeno muttered under his breath, glancing warily at San, who was staring ahead, looking bored. 

San had had it out for Jeno ever since day one, in first grade. For some reason, everything Jeno did seemed to annoy the other boy. He wasn't funny enough, or too nerdy, or too quiet. Jeno was always too much or too little for him. 

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you. 

“You’ll be fine,” You said softly, trying not to alert the teacher, “You’re not gonna get paired up with him, and you can take it to the office if you need to.” “Yeah, because I’m sure Coach Peralta would be thrilled if someone tried to get his precious midfielder in trouble.”

“Choi, San,” Mrs Baker’s voice rang throughout the room, and Jeno braced himself for the worst, eyebrows furrowing with worry. 

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.” 

Jeno’s shoulders slumped, but your face remained impassive. You picked up your stuff, and pouted silently at Jeno in apology, before making your way to the front. 

“Lee, Jeno,” Mrs Baker called a few minutes later, “You’ll be sitting with Jang, Yeeun.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Yeeun is nice, Jeno thought to himself, I could sit with Yeeun. She wasn’t part of his main friend group, but he had tutored her in math during sophomore year in exchange for her helping him with Spanish, and they’d been pretty friendly ever since. 

“Hey,” Yeeun greeted as Jeno sat down, and Jeno smiled at her. 

“Remember, these will be your assigned lab partners for the rest of the semester. No changes, no exceptions.” Mrs. Baker sat down at her desk, before beginning to talk about something Jeno didn’t really pay attention to.

You exchanged glances with Jeno, and he gave you a look of sympathy as you gestured at San with your eyes. San was talking to you about something—probably bragging about some soccer achievement—but you weren’t paying him much attention. Jeno swallowed something growing in his throat as he looked at how your hair looked today. 

It was nothing relatively new, the same hairstyle you used on most days. But still, there was a bit of a shine to it. He wondered vaguely if you had changed your shampoo, the other day you’d been complaining about how itchy your normal shampoo made your scalp—

“You still haven’t told her about how you feel?” Yeeun asked quietly, and Jeno’s head snapped back to look at her, eyes wide.

“W-what? Me. Like Y/N…” He laughed nervously, trying to keep his voice down. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding Yeeun’s accusatory stare. “You’re hilarious, Yeeun. Tell another one.”

Yeeun shook her head. “You’d better hurry before someone else snatches her up, Jen. She’s not gonna wait around for you forever.”

 “I don’t like her, Yeeun.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

“Hey! Jaemin Na! What do you want!” Jeno answered as he sat down, mimicking Jaemin’s tone next to him.

“Well, for starters, a million dollars, and second, a date with Yiren Wang, but I doubt you can help me with either of those, so...”

Jeno glanced at the rest of the table. Along with Jaemin, Mark,  Renjun, Donghyuck, and you were watching the interaction between the pair. “Where are the munchkins?” Jeno asked, noticing Chenle and Jisung’s absence. No one could really call them munchkins anymore. That nickname dated back to middle school, before the two underclassmen had gone through growth spurts.

“Eh, they should be here soon,” Renjun said, chewing on a french fry, “How’s your day been?”

“Pretty good so far, I guess. I got AP Calc with Mr. Washington later, though. That man wants me dead.”

You rolled your eyes. “He doesn’t want you dead. I’m telling you, you and Hyuck have been spending way too much time together. You’re being more dramatic than usual and Hyuck’s being more… weird than usual.”

“And just what is so weird about being enthusiastic about senior year, Y/N?” Donghyuck asked, shaking his head, “It’s our last year in this hellhole, I’m excited that we’re finally getting out of here. And besides—”

“Please don’t bring up the fact that you’re abandoning us next year.” Chenle seemingly appeared out of nowhere, sitting next to Renjun, Jisung following quickly behind him.

“Hi, Sungie,” You said with a smile, and Jisung smiled back. “Hi, Y/N.”

“What were you saying, Hyuck?” Jaemin looked at Donghyuck, who had taken the quick interaction as an opportunity to take a bite of his sandwich. His wide eyes darted to the slim boy, cheeks stuffed with chicken. 

“Oh,” He replied after swallowing, “This is gonna be my year. I’m getting male lead for the winter musical and no one is gonna stop me.”

“Do you even know what musical you guys are doing yet?” Mark asked, “What if it’s like… Shrek?”

Jisung made a face. “There’s a Shrek musical?”

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

“I don’t know about male lead, if it’s Shrek. You should try out for Donkey,” The Chinese boy joked, “With those front teeth, you’re a shoo-in.”

The entire table was silent for a moment, before snorts and chortles started pouring out from everyone except Donghyuck.

“Fuck you, Huang.” 

Renjun flashed the friendliest smile he could muster. “Not if you paid me a million dollars.”

The subject remained on extracurriculars, everyone in your group except for Chenle and Jisung now wary of college applications. Donghyuck had been in theater ever since middle school, Renjun was in the robotics club and the debate team with Jaemin, who was also in the student council. Mark was on the math team with Jeno, and you had founded the film club. 

"You're not gonna believe who asked to sign up for film," You huffed, looking kind of confused. The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, and you pursed your lips, almost as if you were trying not to laugh.

"San Choi."

Renjun scoffed. Jaemin raised his eyebrows before letting out a single, humorless laugh. Jeno made a face, poking his plastic fork at you. 

"What is San Choi doing asking to sign up for film?"

"Fuck if I know. He said he needed one more extracurricular if he wanted to get into some college in Florida and he liked going to the movies, so he wanted to try out film."

Mark rolled his eyes. "I swear there's nothing in that guy's head but hot gas. It blows my mind."

"He's a dick," Chenle grumbled, "I'm still not over how he and Wooyoung taped Jisung to the flagpole last year."

Jisung scowled. "I thought we agreed to never bring that up again."

“Do you think they’ll finally calm the fuck down this year?” Jaemin wondered, looking wistful.

You took a sip of your coke and shook your head. “Doubt it. They’re not the hateful eight for a reason.”

The mood at the table turned tense, until Jaemin frowned at his french fries, before sighing and clapping his hands together dramatically. “I would like to hear,” He mused, “About the nuance that theatre gives the cinematic masterpiece that is Shrek when converted into musical form.”

Donghyuck beamed. “Oh, it’s amazing. You see…”

If it was difficult to get Donghyuck to stop talking in general, it was impossible when it was about theater.

The conversation continued on until the bell rang, and the eight of you had to go your separate ways. Jaemin and Jeno had the same class, so they both walked together down a relatively calm hallway. Jaemin looked both ways, before finally lowering his voice. 

“So, you’re going to see Mr. Park today?”

Jeno nodded, looking down at his shoes. “He said he wanted to give me an assignment. Says there’s something big going on.”

Jaemin’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Did he say what kind of something?” 

Jeno shook his head, pouting slightly. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.” 

Once school was out, Jeno was getting ready to get onto the subway once again, this time heading towards Midtown. It was only day one and, as Jeno had predicted, Mr. Washington probably was out to get him, because he’d swamped the class with homework.

As he left the school, he spotted you in the parking lot, leaning against your car door, texting someone. He glanced at his phone. He still had plenty of time, he figured. He walked over to you, and when you looked up, you smiled. 

“Hey!” Your voice had that signature tone of enthusiasm to it, and Jeno smiled back immediately. 

“Hello,” He sing-songed. “So, I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?”

You looked somewhere above his head, furrowing your eyebrows before you perked up again and nodded. “Yep! Why?”

“I’m free after nine. Maybe then I could come over to your house? So I can finally get you to stop harassing me about Blade Runner.”

You grinned, pumping your fists enthusiastically. “Hell yes,” You answered, “Do you want me to get like, some frozen pizzas or something?” 

“Pizza sounds good,” He said. “Who are you even waiting for?” 

You made a face that made it seem as if you’d just gotten a whiff of rotten milk. “Well—”

Your response was interrupted when the school doors slammed open, and eight figures poured out, carrying themselves with confidence Jeno both envied and despised. He frowned, trying not to react at their loud whooping and laughing. The Hateful Eight.

“Oh.” Jeno averted his gaze, meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah. If you don’t hear from me later it’s because I jumped out of my truck because I don’t wanna work with—”

“Well, hello, gorgeous!” San’s voice filled the parking lot, and Jeno took a deep breath. Your mouth stretched into a tight-lipped smile at the unwanted ‘compliment’. 

“Hey, San.” Your friendly passive aggressive tone almost made Jeno smile. “I’ve been waiting here for like, fifteen minutes. You could have just given me your number and asked me to send you pictures of my notes, you know.”

He shrugged, turning his body so that his back was turned to Jeno. “Sorry, babe. Coach wanted to talk to us about the upcoming season. When he gets going, it’s hard to get him to stop. And besides, where’s the fun in just asking for pictures when I could come here, talk to you, and take the pictures myself?”

You didn’t respond, but rather pulled out your backpack and began digging through it. When you pulled out your notebook, you handed it to San, who flashed a wink at you. You barely held back a gag. 

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.” 

He walked over to the hood of your truck, and just as you were about to continue your conversation, two figures slung their arms around both of Jeno’s shoulders, causing him to flinch. 

Out of the fifteen soccer players on the team, San and his best friends—seven of them, to be precise—were the worst. The others were pretty nice. But right now, seeing two of those seven surround your best friend made you uneasy. 

Wooyoung was loud. He was also a temperamental brat. His dad owned three used car dealerships over in Brooklyn, so naturally, he thought he owned the entire world. He wasn’t someone who would get too physical in fights, like San, or Jongho, or Yeosang. But when he was angry, he could easily get you to jump into the stratosphere by yelling at you once. Over the years, he’d made several teaching assistants and substitute teachers cry, only getting let off with a slap on the wrist every time. 

 Yunho was terrifying for completely different reasons. He was friendly, but a little too friendly to the people he wanted to control. He could read people like books and could easily manipulate whoever he wanted. But he wasn’t afraid of getting physical either, especially not when he was built like a goddamn Power Rangers Megazord. 

All in all, they definitely weren't anyone you wanted near you, near your friends. Especially considering how much they had it out for your friends. 

"Hey, buddy," Yunho said, looking down at Jeno with a wide smile. "How was summer vacation?"

Jeno gnawed on the side of his cheek as he considered his answer. "Um, it was okay." He looked at you to catch your eyes darting between San, Yunho and Wooyoung, like you were analyzing the situation. "I kinda stayed in and played video games most of the t—"

"Cool, cool," Yunho answered, carding his free hand through his bleach blond hair. "What about you, Woo?"

"Oh, dude, it was so cool," He bragged, "I went to Brazil for like, a month. I went clubbing with Instagram models and shit, it was wild."

You stared at him as he patted Jeno on the back rather aggressively. "Where did you go? Have you ever even left New York?" 

You knew the answer. Only a few times when the debate team went to compete in different states. Jeno spoke up again. "Well, yeah a few t—"

"Doubt it," Yunho scoffed. He craned his head back. "San, you done yet?"

"Almost!" San answered. Yunho turned to face you, and for some reason his smile seemed genuinely kind. “What about you, Y/N?”

You never understood why it was that the soccer team hated your entire friend group, but seemed to tolerate you. It made no sense.

So you shrugged. “Not a lot, I guess. Did my summer reading. Hung out with my friends.” You flashed a reassuring smile at Jeno. “Right, Jen?”

Immediately, he relaxed a little bit. “Yeah.”

San appeared from behind Yunho, Jeno and Wooyoung. “Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

You waved your hand, wanting them to get rid of them quickly. “Don’t mention it. But next time, just text me for my notes. I have to get to work, so…”

“Oh! My bad,” He answered with fake remorse, before unlocking his phone and handing it over to you. “Here. For next time.”

You stifled a deep sigh, punching in the numbers hesitantly. “Just for homework, got it?”

San took his phone back, holding a hand over his heart and raised his head. “On a gentleman's honor,” He declared, and you bit back a laugh. Jeno looked like he was going to hurl.

“San!” The team captain—Hongjoong—called from a few feet away, “Are you guys done yet or what?”

“Coming!” San yelled back.

“Alright, we’ll let you go,” Wooyoung said, patting Jeno on the back again, a bit too harsh for comfort. “Bye, Y/N! See you around.”

 The three of them stalked off, leaving you and a very frazzled Jeno. “Dicks,” You muttered once they were out of earshot. “You good?”

Jeno shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

“I gotta go,” He said quickly. “I’ll see you later?”

You nodded, offering a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Be careful!” 

Jeno offered a deep bow, fluttering his eyelashes. “On a gentleman’s honor,” He sighed, adding a very bad British accent to it. You burst out laughing, eyes squeezing shut.

You didn’t catch the way Jeno’s shoulders relaxed at the sound.

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

The train ride into Midtown didn’t take too long. He spent it digging through his backpack for his Park Industries lanyard, listening to music and thinking about you.

When you talk right to me 

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving 

You running back to me

You’d met Jeno when you were six. Truth be told, he didn’t really remember. For him it was like you weren’t there at one point and by the time you were, you were thicker than thieves. It was a difficult time for him. He had just lost both of his parents, and was moving in with his Aunt Sunny and his Uncle Jinki, who were barely out of college at the time. He’d had to move to a new school and basically restart his entire life. You were the first sense of stability in his life for months. 

Your mom lived next to his aunt and uncle. So naturally, you went to the same school and went on the same bus. And somewhere along the way, you two clicked. You’d introduced him to Renjun, Jaemin and Donghyuck. You were there to comfort him whenever he got pushed off the slide by San or Wooyoung. 

He was there for you when your stepdad and stepbrother moved in when you were nine and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. He was there when your mom died when you were thirteen. He’d introduced you and your friends to Mark, Chenle and Jisung. 

And you were there when his Uncle Jinki got killed when he was fifteen. And because fate had an especially cruel sense of irony, it had happened on a Tuesday. You didn’t know, but at the time, he had just gotten his powers. Your comfort and words unknowingly had a secondary effect: he made the decision to use them for good, and… well. The rest was history. 

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

Just like when he met you, he didn’t recall an exact moment where he realized he’d fallen in love with you. He knew there was a world where he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you. And he knew that there was a world here he’d fallen in love with you—he was living in that world now. He realized he was living in that world maybe when he was sixteen, and had been stuck in it ever since. 

You were it for him. He’d had crushes before. But never something like this, where he was so aware of your presence around him. It wasn’t the way he was hyper aware of someone like San, or like Yunho or Jongho. It wasn’t out of anxiety or fear, where a shift in mood activated his fight or flight. He was aware of you in a way that only people who truly know each other do, where he could pick up on subtle changes in your behavior, but not out of fear. Rather, out of a desire to take care of you and to not have you worry about anything. 

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

As the train rolled into the station that was a fifteen minute walk from Park Tower, Jeno put away his headphones and took a deep breath.

The “Jeno Tingle” as his Aunt Sunny called it—Jeno hated the term—had taken him a few years to gain control of. And while he could never truly turn it off, he could at least tune it out enough to be more at ease. The only time he did so was at school or when he was studying, just because he wanted to feel normal, and because being aware of everything going on around him really messed with his concentration. 

Jaemin didn’t understand. “If I was able to tell whenever Seonghwa was behind me because he wanted to scare me into doing his chemistry homework, I’d never turn that shit off,” He’d said once. But truthfully, Jeno didn’t really care. Because while yes, he was still slightly scared of the “hateful eight”, he knew damn well that if things got to be too much, he could kick their asses if he wanted to. 

It was his friends he worried about. He couldn’t be around them 24/7. You, not so much. He knew you knew how to fight. Even worse, he knew that San had the hots for you so you were off limits to the rest of them, be it bullying or flirting. But for everyone else… Well. He couldn’t hover over them like some guardian angel. 

Now that the “Jeno Tingle” was on, it allowed him to sense everyone within a certain range around him. He could zero in on certain sounds with ease, and his reflexes became heightened. Halfway on his walk up Park Avenue, he jumped away from a chihuahua on its leash a second before it started barking at him.

When he entered the first floor lobby of the Park Building, he scoured the crowd of employees and visitors until he landed on one familiar face. 

He'd met Doyoung about a year after his dad started dating your mom. Things between your parents were starting to get serious, and Doyoung was four years older than you were. When they moved into your house, Doyoung as your new stepbrother became the de facto chaperone and babysitter. If you wanted to go to the mall with Jeno, he had to take you. Every time you dragged Jeno to the movies, Doyoung had to go also. 

To an extent, it wasn't that bad. Doyoung was cool, and he was smart—he was the one who got Jeno interested in computers and chemistry. He graduated high school at 16, and finished his bachelor's degree at 19. He'd also interned at Park Industries, and secured a job there almost immediately after college. 

To an extent, he was the whole reason Mr. Park knew who he was, because of one incident. It was relatively soon after he started the whole vigilante thing. Jeno, still figuring out how to maneuver on the webs that shot out of his wrists, had accidentally crashed into your backyard late at night, when only Doyoung was awake. He was standing in the back door while he was waiting for his dog to finish peeing. 

Initially, the older boy had freaked out, thinking that it was a burglar or something. When he yelled out that his dad was a cop and was asleep in the house, Jeno panicked, and pulled off his mask, holding up his hands.

“Woah, woahwoahwoah! Doyoung! It’s me, it’s me!” 

Doyoung’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, paying no mind to the dog as it sauntered up to Jeno, before turning onto its back in a request for belly rubs.

"You're the spider guy everyone's been talking about!?"

"Spider man," Jeno had answered, voice cracking as he dusted himself off. He cringed at the sound of his voice. "...and yes."

Of course, his cover was blown, and he'd begged Doyoung not to tell anyone, especially not you. And while Doyoung had promised not to tell you, it didn't stop him from telling his boss. 

That had been almost three years ago now. The rest was history, and after that Jeno didn’t have to run around in bright red sweatpants and dollar store swimming goggles. Now, he had a nanotech suit that allowed him to activate protocols of the suit through voice commands using something top-secret Mr. Park called D.R.E.A.M technology. Direct Response Engaged As Machine—yeah, Jeno didn’t get it either. 

Doyoung offered Jeno a smile as he escorted Jeno past security, showing them his employee clearance pass. "Hey. How have you been?"

Jeno shrugged, recounting his day in minor detail as he was led into an elevator labeled authorized personnel only. 

This elevator only went up to the 35th floor, seeing as everything past that was only cleared for a certain list of people approved by Mr. Park and his security team, and everything past the 90th floor were Mr. Park's private living quarters. 

Now, as Doyoung led him to another elevator to head up to the 85th floor, which was always where Jeno got to meet with Mr. Park—which wasn't often, maybe once or twice a year—he wondered where he would be if he hadn’t surprised Doyoung that night. He would probably still be using those ugly red sweatpants as part of his disguise.

"How's Y/N?" Doyoung asked. 

"Oh, she seems okay. That guy who hates me keeps coming onto her though. He's a huge douchebag."

Doyoung frowned. "He's not harassing her, is he? Because if he is—"

"He just won't stop flirting, even though she clearly isn't interested," Jeno said bitterly, "He isn't physical or anything. Trust me, it wouldn't end well for him if he was."

Doyoung wasn't quite sure how to respond to the younger boy's dark tone. He looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So… how’s the apartment?” Jeno asked. Doyoung perked up instantly.

“Oh, now that Taeyong’s moved in and did his interior design thing, it looks great. He’s really done a great job at it.”

“When am I gonna meet this guy? He sounds cool.”

“He’s really cool,” Doyoung hummed, cheeks heating up. “Things are getting really serious.”

Jeno smiled at how flustered Doyoung, who was normally so level headed and calm, became at the mention of his boyfriend.

“You guys sound like a really good couple,” He said. Doyoung chuckled, waving his hand. “Oh, well—” 

 The elevator dinged, and Doyoung sighed. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.”

The hallway it opened up to was lined with pictures of the company's history, starting from pictures of black and white of people in vintage clothing, to pictures in sepia tones to finally pictures of the current CEO at locations around the world: Chanyeol Park.

Jeno walked behind Doyoung as he led him down the hallway, before stopping in front of a door, and a friendly looking man in a suit. 

Junmyeon was a part of Chanyeol’s Security and Intelligence team, and often sat in on these meetings with Jeno. The chain of contact also included him. If Jeno couldn’t contact Doyoung (which rarely happened), he’d contact Junmyeon. And if he couldn’t contact either of them, or it was an emergency, only then could he contact Chanyeol. So far, that had only happened once.

"Hey, Junmyeon," Doyoung said, "Mr. Park's 4:30 is here." 

Junmyeon nodded, before smiling at Jeno and giving him a wave. "Hey, kid."

Jeno offered an awkward grin. "Hi, Mr. Kim."

Junmyeon rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Kid, you're making me feel ancient. I've told you a million times, just call me Junmyeon."

Jeno shuffled awkwardly, before nodding at the older man, watching as he pressed a button on his earpiece. "Hey, Yeol. Jeno's here."

The muffled response was barely heard, but Jeno automatically understood what Mr. Park said. Junmyeon turned to open the door, and let the pair inside. The “office”—if it could even be called that—opened up to more of a lounge, than anything. A wall of glass overlooked the Manhattan skyline, but Jeno knew that from the outside it looked only like a wall, due to camouflage technology developed by Mr. Park himself. As Doyoung and Junmyeon stayed back, closer to the door, Jeno took a few steps toward the man in question.

Chanyeol was standing a few feet in front of the glass window, working on a holographic model of a new piece of tech. His face was turned downward in a concentrated frown. He barely spared the teenager a glance as he said fondly, “Hey, kid.”

Jeno was used to this. Chanyeol wasn’t cold per se, but he wasn’t warm at all. He knew that Chanyeol cared about him, even if he didn’t really show it in a conventional way. Chanyeol was a very… eccentric man, so he had his own way of saying and doing things. 

“Hi, Mr. Park. Um… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yep! Needed some help from the friendly neighborhood Spiderman… A little birdie told me about something going on in Queens.”

“Queens?” Jeno asked, gripping the straps of his backpack. “You mean, other than the usual stuff?”

“Other than the usual stuff,” Chanyeol repeated, nodding. With a wave of his hand, the hologram disappeared, and another one appeared in its place. This time, instead of a 3D model, a few pictures and another, smaller 3D model appeared. Chanyeol turned to face him, frown deepening. He pointed at the model—a long, shiny oval-shaped purple stone. It reminded Jeno of an amethyst, but instead of turning white at the base, it turned to an iridescent jade tone. “You know what this is, right?”

Jeno nodded, remembering seeing the rocks all over the news when he was a kid. “That’s… that’s a Chitauri stone. From the invasion a few years back.”

Chanyeol nodded, standing up straight. “These stones have the potential to power weapons with no need to recharge, or change them out. They’re an infinite, extremely strong power source, Jeno, and in the wrong hands can be very dangerous.”

Jeno took a deep breath, feeling his stomach sink slowly. Chanyeol sighed. “Cleanup of the city after the invasion was long, and difficult, and obviously the government and the company weren’t able to get everything. It caused a black market to pop up. Now, the NYPD has been investigating it for years, but they have their limits… that’s where you come in.”

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

Chanyeol gave him a crooked, reassuring smile. He pointed at one of the pictures, which was of a man who most likely didn’t know he was photographed. He was walking somewhere, face looking angry and stern.

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

Jeno shook his head, and Chanyeol turned his head to nod at Junmyeon. “You’re up, tough guy.”

Junmyeon huffed, before walking up to Jeno. He put his hand on Jeno’s shoulder as if he could tell that he was growing anxious. 

“Jeno, that’s Henry Duke. From what we understand on the intel team, he’s one of the cornerstones of the alien tech black market. He’s one of the top dogs. From what we understand, he likes to be present for all major negotiations that his group makes. A source of ours told us that there’s going to be a negotiation on Friday night not too far away from LaGuardia. We want you to go out there and just get a feel of what’s going on.”

“Just watch them, right?” Jeno looked at Junmyeon, who patted his back reassuringly. “Just watch. Don’t engage unless you absolutely have to.”

“You can do that, right?” Chanyeol said quietly, crossing his arms. “Because if not, then it’s totally—”

“Yeah, of course I can! Friday—shit, Friday. At what time are they supposed to be meeting up?”

Junmyeon furrowed his eyebrows, before answering, “Around eight or nine.”

Jeno bit his lip, thinking about the promise he’d made to you. It would just have to wait, he supposed. Chanyeol rarely asked anything this big of him.

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together. 

“Perfect.” 

They discussed logistics briefly after. Doyoung would be on call with Jeno, his custom made suit allowing them to communicate, letting Doyoung see everything Jeno was seeing via a video feed coming from the ultra thin lenses placed in the white eye sockets of the mask. Doyoung would then report to Junmyeon, who would report to Chanyeol, who would probably report to the FBI. Jeno was only to engage if absolutely necessary.

After that, he set out on patrol. He usually found some discreet place to hide his backpack, and then went all over Queens looking for trouble, quite literally. Around five thirty, he stopped a robbery in Murray Hill. Then, around seven, he stopped a man from stealing a woman’s purse in Elmhurst. Nothing too much.

Around eight, he finally headed home, this time dressed normally, using the train and not web fluid. He walked home, tired, knowing that he’d immediately have to do that cursed AP calc homework. When he got home, he opened his backpack pocket to look for his keys, rummaging between his notebooks and other things. 

Shuffling through his stuff, he furrowed his eyebrows as he couldn’t find them. Thinking back, he remembered this morning, when he’d left in a rush… and had very obviously left his keys on his desk.

“Shit,” He muttered to himself. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, remembering that Aunt Sunny had said she’d be working overtime tonight. He could very easily sneak in through his window, but he was pretty sure he’d locked it the night before, and it was too early. People’s lights were still on—anyone could see him if they just looked up, and then he would be screwed. 

Huffing and zipping his backpack up, he marched up to your house, before ringing the doorbell. He shifted his weight back and forth, from his heels to the balls of his feet, until the door opened up. A familiar man with a face just like Doyoung's, but older, with graying hair and arms scarred and muscled from years of working on the police force stood in the doorway.

“Jeno?” Your dad offered him a warm smile. “Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hi, Mr. Kim,” Jeno said, smiling back. He shifted nervously. “I, um… I left my keys in my room this morning, and my aunt’s working late, so… could I… maybe wait here? Y/N’s home, right?” 

The man nodded. “Of course, of course. Come in!” 

Your dad had always been super friendly, even from the day Jeno had first met him. You'd told Jeno once that he was the only real father figure you'd ever had. Once everything settled after him and your mom got married, you started calling him dad altogether. And since you and Jeno were practically glued at the hip, he got along with your dad almost as well as you did.

“Okay.” Jeno stepped in and set down his backpack at the base of the coat rack next to the door, as he’d done a million times before. Jeno stepped into the living room, and sat down on the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at your dad.

"I think Y/N's in the shower, but she should be done soon. You can just wait here if you want… have you eaten anything yet?”

“Uh, I had a granola bar on the train, but that’s it.”

“We have some leftover pasta here, if you want—”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

Your dad nodded, sitting down on his recliner. “So, have you started your college list, yet? Y/N said you wanted to stay here in New York.”

Jeno nodded, pushing some hair out of his face. “Well, yeah. It would make things a lot easier, I think. I might want to apply to NYU, but I think I’ll just go to community college, or something.”

Your dad shook his head. “You’re a pretty smart kid, Jeno. I think you could get into Columbia if you set out to. Plus, Chanyeol Park doesn’t give out internships to anybody. That’s your secret weapon.”

Jeno smiled. “Well, you’ve got a point.” 

Your dad gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Come on, trying won’t hurt!” Your dad made a face, and then rubbed his knuckles. “Have you been working out? Those muscles weren’t there the last time I did that.”

Jeno laughed, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, a little bit? The house needed some fixing up over the summer, and I wanted to help Aunt Sunny, so…”

“Jeno?” 

He turned immediately, eyes landing on you at the base of the staircase. You’d changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair was slightly damp. “What are you doing here?” You asked, with a curious smile.

His shoulders slumped, and he grinned sheepishly. “Terrible Tuesday strikes again. I forgot my keys.”

You grimaced. “Brutal, dude. You wanna come up?” Your eyes moved to your dad. “Or am I interrupting guy time?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jeno answered, playing along. He took a cocky tone as he rested his hands on the back of his neck. “Your dad was just telling me about how much the NYPD needs me.” 

You stifled a laugh. You dad seemed to be holding back a laugh too. "Hey, you're joking, but if you keep working out like that, and if by some impossible chance, the college thing doesn't work out… We might just be able to catch Spiderman if we finally got some brain cells on the force."

"Ugh, dad," You groaned, unaware of Jeno's gut twisting, "Not again."

"Yeah, Mr. Kim," Jeno said, scratching the back of his head, "He's not that bad."

Your dad shook his head. "Look, I don't hate the guy. In all honesty, crime rates have dropped since he started doing his thing. But he thinks he's above the law, and his methods can be a bit… unorthodox sometimes. He’s been undermining us for years and his tech is state of the art. Makes me wonder about what we should do to modernize the force."

Jeno looked downward, wondering what would happen if your dad knew the truth.

"Well, I guess we may just never find out. Jeno'd make a horrible cop. He couldn't hurt a fly if you paid him a million dollars."

But you came to the rescue as you grabbed his backpack, and soon enough he was up the stairs with you, heading into your bedroom, laughing to yourselves when you heard your dad jokingly call out, "Fifteen inch distance, you two! Door stays open!"

He sat on your desk chair while you lay on your bed, limbs splaying out. 

"So you left your keys."

Jeno groaned. "Don't remind me. I was in such a rush to leave, that I… I forgot. I'm so stupid."

You rolled your eyes, rolling over onto your stomach to look at him. "You're not stupid, Jen. You made an honest mistake because you were in a hurry." 

Standing up, you walked over to him and leaned against the desk. "Seriously, Jeno. What's gotten into you, lately? You freak out about every little thing. It's starting to worry me." 

Jeno shook his head. "I don't know," He admitted. "I think I'm just scared about how after this year, everything changes. Renjun’s headed upstate. Jaemin’s going to Boston. You want to go to LA. I think Hyuck and I are the only ones who want to stay here. I just… I don't want things to change." 

Your expression turned sad as he continued. "Everyone is expecting great things from me. You're smart, Jeno. You can get into an Ivy. Or, you have a Park internship, you'll be fine. What if I don't want things to be fine? What if I want them to just stay the same?"

You stayed silent for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. Jeno was relatively level headed for someone your age, but even he had moments of doubt and panic. It made moments like these difficult.  You sighed before grabbing him by the hand. Wordlessly, you tugged him over to the bed, sitting him down and leaning your head on his shoulder. He could feel the dampness in your hair seeping slowly into his shirt.

"I guess I understand what you mean," You mumbled, trying to reason with him, "But come on. You wouldn't really want everything to stay the same. You can't tell me you want to keep getting AP calc homework. And I definitely doubt that you'd want to have your ass kicked by San for the rest of your life."

Jeno looked at the floor. "You're right. But you know that's not what I mean—"

"I know," You huffed, "I'm just saying. Change… it's inevitable. The longer you fight it, the harder it is."

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

"It does," You agreed, taking his hand in yours. "But at least we have each other's backs, y'know?"

Something of a smile appeared on his face. You were so close to him, leaning on him, stroking his knuckles with your thumb. He hoped you couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest. 

"We really do, huh?" His voice turned quiet, with a bit of a sleepy lull to it. He allowed his head to rest on yours. "You're so comfortable. Can I like, use you as a pillow for the rest of my life?"

You giggled. "I'll consider it on two conditions."

"Oh, you'll consider. How generous of you."

"Yes, I'll consider. Now, do you wanna hear my terms or not?" 

Jeno raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead," He said, before putting on his best Marlon Brando voice, "Make me an offer I can't refuse."

Snorting, you lifted your head off of his. "Okay. One, you finish your calculus homework here before Sunny gets home."

He pursed his lips. "Okay, I could probably do that. What's the other one?"

"Let me drive you to school for the rest of the year." 

Jeno stared at you, and you nodded, eyes wide. "Trust me, Jen. You wouldn't need to wake up so early! And plus, you can't text the guy manning the subway asking him to give you five minutes because you need to find your keys."

Jeno gnawed on the inside of his cheek. You did have a point, and to be honest, he could probably refrain from putting his feet up on your dashboard.

"Deal." 

You grinned. "Awesome," You answered, before nodding towards his backpack. "Now get to work, Einstein."

The rest of the week wasn't that bad. Yes, you were absolutely batshit insane about your truck in the morning, but he soon realized he didn't really mind. Not when it allowed you both to spend some twenty extra minutes together in the mornings, and they were spent joking around and listening to your extremely varied playlist. 

On the other hand, he was saddled with more and more homework, greater and greater expectations. The looming threat of Friday's mission rolled around, and it made Jeno feel like time was passing much too slowly but also way too quickly. There was so much on his mind. He had chemistry with you on Thursdays in the afternoon, which also meant that San was there. Which also meant that sometimes, his heightened senses would pick up on San dropping a tacky pick up line which made Jeno want to punch him in the jaw.

Finally, finally, Friday afternoon rolled around. As he bid you goodbye and promised to see you later, he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. The feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong. He went out on patrol, ready for Doyoung to set up the call and tell him where he needed to go. It didn’t help that there wasn’t a lot for him to do that day. Crime had seemed to slow down altogether. 

When the time finally came, and the sun was beginning to set, Doyoung rang in at about 7, telling him the location. An old warehouse near LaGuardia airport, hidden from prying eyes. Jeno made his way to the place, avoiding security cameras Doyoung warned him about, and found a place to hide. There was a hole in the warehouse roof, which allowed him to peer right into the building without being seen. It was about thirty feet from the ground.

“Why is it always old, abandoned warehouses?” Jeno grumbled. He heard Doyoung laugh quietly. 

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed. 

And so they waited. Jeno wondered vaguely if you were still working. He wasn’t sure. They made time talking quietly, until a black SUV rolled into the warehouse. “Woah, Doyoung,” He murmured, “Hold up.”

Jeno leaned forward, but quickly realized he probably wouldn’t be able to hear what was being said. “D.R.E.A.M, activate Heightened Intelligence Protocol.”

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

The protocol allowed Jeno to use the lenses over his eyes to zoom in on specific targets, as well as use a microphone embedded in the suit to pick up audio from far away and feed it directly into his ears.

He watched as three figures got out of the car, a fourth remaining in the driver’s seat. The trio stood in front of the car, and Jeno recognized the man in the middle as the man Junmyeon had been talking about.

“Alright, there’s Henry Duke,” He said, “The one in the middle.”

 “Got it,” Doyoung replied, sounding satisfied. “Now all we have to do is wait for the other party.”

“Did Junmyeon’s sources say anything about who it would be?”

“No. They weren’t able to find that out. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Jeno’s eyes never left the man. “Do you think it’s something international?”

Doyoung sighed. “I’m not sure. If it is international, then you need to be even more careful.”

“Got it. I think—Wait, here they come.” 

A second vehicle, this one another black SUV, rolled up not too far away from the first car. The lights turned off and the engine sputtered to a stop, and four men stepped out of the vehicle.

Jeno’s stomach dropped, and of its own accord, his mouth let loose a quiet, “What the fuck,” as he registered the person leading them. 

“What?” Doyoung asked, before realizing what—who—he was looking at. “...Is that my dad?”

“I think it is,” Jeno whispered, fingertips suddenly numb. Who was he kidding? They both knew who it was. 

“So,” One of the men next to your dad said, “You show us yours, we’ll show you ours?”

Henry Duke clapped his hands together with an impish grin. “I suppose. Reagan, get the case.”

One of the two men standing beside him started off toward the trunk of the car. “It caught me off guard when I heard that the force wanted to purchase these. Almost made me wonder if this was your attempt at a sting operation.”

“What made you change your mind?” Your dad asked. Jeno swallowed at how cold he sounded. This wasn’t your dad, and it didn’t seem like Officer Kim either. This was someone Jeno had never met before. 

“Honestly, Kim?” Duke raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “It was you. Your cooperativeness and willing to feed us information, as well as your… insurance agreement. And besides, you made a very interesting point when you said that the Avengers Initiative and Park’s alum Spiderman is ruining the way the law operates around here. That type of bitterness… hard to fake.”

Your dad huffed. “We’re fucking tired of it.”

The man leaning against the car your dad had stepped out of scoffed. “If this helps us catch the little asshole, then so be it.”

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped. 

“—Alright, then.” The man holding the briefcase—Reagan—clicked it open, as if it were a prize reveal on The Price is Right. Five guns, all modified to hold glowing Chitauri stones were placed carefully together side by side.

“You know the basics. No radiation. Keep it away from security scanners and x-rays. They will blow up. And second of all, these are at half the price, along with the promise from the chief of police that my business won’t be touched, and will only be distributed to officers in on the operation and have agreed to turn off their body cameras when they decide to use these weapons. Should this not be a sting operation, we’ll be back here to negotiate.”

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

“Yes, sir,” Your dad answered, nodding. “We have the money here.”

“Hand it over, then.”

That was when Jeno made his mistake. He leaned forward too much, and proceeded to fall right through the hole, bringing down some scraps of the roof with him. As he tumbled through the air, the zoom on his lenses caused him to grow dizzy as he had no idea what he was looking at. He caught himself before he could fall, clumsily commanding D.R.E.A.M to go back to turn off the current protocol. His vision returned to normal, and he swung up onto a rafter holding the warehouse up.

“So, we have company.” Duke didn’t sound as amused as he had before. His face turned into a sneer. “Get him.”

In less than a second, before Jeno could say anything, five guns were pointed directly at him. He managed to swing away before any bullets could hit him. 

“Jeno, get out of there now,” Doyoung ordered. 

“What about the guns?” Jeno asked, swinging to another rafter. “They know I’m here, I might as well get them before I go—”

“No! Jeno, listen to what I’m telling you. You’ve done more than enough, and you need to let it g—”

Your dad aimed, and a bullet fired right at Jeno’s chest. For a second, he forgot that the chest area of the suit was lined with bulletproof material. While it didn’t shoot into his chest, it ricocheted right off him, and since he was in motion, it somehow caused the bullet to bounce back in the direction in which it came. 

The wind was knocked out of Jeno, but it was nothing compared to watching the bullet land in the middle of your father’s chest. On the other line, he heard Doyoung yell, followed by the sound of something falling. And then, as he made his way back towards the hole he’d fallen out of, he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the body as it crumpled to the ground. 

The others around him scrambled to get back into their respective cars. Jeno was back on the roof now, trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry,” He gasped, “Do—Doyoung, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to—”

“Jeno, you need to get out of there, now,” Doyoung said, voice raspy. “GO!” 

So he did, and Doyoung cut off the call once he was out of the vicinity. Jeno didn’t blame him. He swung across buildings, feeling numb as he looked for the apartment complex roof where he’d decided to hide his backpack.

When he finally did, he changed in a hurry, before slumping against the wall and forcing himself to take deep breaths. 

Doyoung’s dad—your dad—was dead. And it was all his fault. 

He cried on the way down the staircase. He cried on his way to the subway. The entire time, he ignored people’s stares. Suddenly everything was too loud, and if he met someone in the eyes he’d just about break down in the middle of the station. 

As he got onto the train, Jeno thought about all of the things your dad had done for you, and for Jeno. All the times he'd taken you both to Coney Island in the summer when you were younger. The year Pokemon Go came out he took the both of you driving around in his car so you and Jeno could catch as many Pokemon as you could. 

He’d formally adopted you when you were thirteen. You were his daughter in nearly every sense of the word, regardless of blood. And now he was dead, because of a stupid mistake that Jeno had made.

What would you say if you knew? He didn’t want to know. Checking the time on his phone, he saw he’d gotten a message from you just three minutes ago.

[8:36 PM]

y/n: lemme know when ur outside!! :)

“Fuck,” He murmured, wiping his eyes. He knew he needed to stop crying before he got to your house, and he had about ten minutes before he got to his stop, and then another five minute walk to the neighborhood. He focused on taking deep breaths and taking long swigs from his water bottle in the meantime, trying to tune out the sound of other people talking and the sound of the train on the rails.

The walk was the longest five minute walk he’d ever taken. The flashing lights of convenience stores did nothing to calm him down. As the stores in his peripheral vision began transitioning into suburban homes, he felt his heart speed up again. The constant movement as he walked meant he missed his phone vibrating in his backpack as you rang his number.

After what seemed like an eternity, two familiar houses came into his line of vision, and his shoulders slumped as he spotted you on your porch, looking small and teary, curled up into a little ball. In one hand, you were clutching your phone.

His stomach twisted as he put on a confused tone, even though he knew damn well that you knew. “...Y/N?”

You stood up, running to him and burying yourself into his chest, crumpling into his arms. You would have fell over if Jeno hadn’t held both of you up. 

“Jeno,” You sobbed, “You’re n-not go-onna believe it.”

He brought a hand up to caress your hair, holding back tears of his own as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“Y/N, what happened?”

taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs​ @crescentjen​

[justmypartner]

Just the Time

Summary: Part 2 to my fic Overtime. When Jay finally acquires the perfect ring for Hailey, he can’t decide on a plan to propose. However, his plans may need to shift when Hailey catches him in a lie.

Writer’s Note: Hi everyone!! I hope you are all surviving hiatus okay! I never thought I’d actually make a part 2 to Overtime (my first fic ever!), but that Upstead proposal had me feeling some type of way. So, in the spirit of proposals I thought it would be a perfect time to write part 2. You don’t have to read Overtime to know what’s going on, but it does provide additional context! As always, thank you so much for reading!!

“It’s perfect,” Jay said as he admired the beautifully dainty piece of jewelry that was finally his and soon to be Hailey’s. An uncontrollable smile came across his face thinking about finally giving it to her, and he knew it was going to be a hard secret to keep.

“I’ll go get a box for you,” the woman behind the counter told him with a friendly smile before disappearing into a back room.

It had been a long few months of saving money and taking overtime shifts, but he finally had enough to buy the ring. It wasn’t a fun or easy journey. He was working normal Intelligence cases, then putting on his old patrol uniform and working night shifts any time they came available. The first gig he and Hailey did together. She thought it was his idea of an unorthodox date and she jumped at the opportunity to see him on patrol, but when he continued to pursue overtime gigs without her, she began to question why he was so desperate for money. He was able to come up with an excuse that he wanted to do some modifications to his truck. Luckily, she wasn’t invested enough to question him further, but the extra work was beginning to wear him down and this did not go unnoticed by her. Seeing him continue to take the gigs despite how exhausted he was, led her to question his intentions once again. He was only one paycheck away from finally having enough money to pay off the ring when she suggested he slow things down for a while to recover from the heavy load he had taken on. He agreed and her skepticism began to cool back down.

The drive home was spent with a hundred ideas circulating in his brain about the proposal. He’d been trying to come up with an idea since he picked out the ring, but his indecisiveness stood in the way of any real plans. Their one year anniversary was coming up, and he knew he wanted to propose then, however, he just wasn’t sure how. Proposing after just one year together may be too soon for any normal couple, but they weren’t any normal couple. He spent years loving her, wasting time burying his feelings, but now he was done wasting time. She was his future, his forever person, and he wanted to make that official.

The ring was perfect, he just needed a proposal that matched its level of unique simplicity. He knew her, and he knew she wouldn’t want anything too traditionally girly or extravagant, but he also knew she deserved something special. Not something cliche like popping the question in a restaurant or hiding the ring in the bottom of a champagne glass. It needed to be deeper than that and it needed to represent them, he just wasn’t sure what that would look like. His brainstorming was cut short when he pulled up outside of their building. He eyed the ring resting on the seat beside him, and he knew whatever idea he came up with wouldn’t hold a flame to the happiness he’d have when he finally slipped that ring on her finger. He didn’t want to bring the box up to the apartment on the off chance she would accidentally come across it. She was an elite detective after all. So, he locked it in the glove compartment of his truck and made his way upstairs.

“There you are!” He heard her call out from the kitchen as he opened the door. The smell of coffee and waffles filled the room, and he smiled to himself, knowing her weekend routine like the back of his hand.

“Hi, beautiful,” he told her, making his way around the counter to leave a peck on her lips.

A frown came across her face when he pulled away as her eyes traveled down to his empty hands before making their way back up to his face.

“I thought you said you were going to the store?” She questioned, her brow furrowed as the words left her mouth.

It took everything in him not to express the panic in his mind. In the excitement of finally getting the ring, he forgot to actually go to the store, the errand he told her he was running when she questioned why he was quietly escaping the bed earlier that morning.

“I- well I got out the door and Will called saying he needed my help. He locked himself out of his car, so he called me for the spare. By the time I got over there, I figured it would be too late to go to the store, so I just came back here. I can go out after work,” he told her, leaning forward to leave another light kiss on her lips. He was grateful for his experience in undercover that allowed him to think of an excuse on the fly.

She nodded, but she wasn’t fully convinced of his story. She grew up in an environment that had her consistently questioning the truth behind what she was told by her loved ones. She never felt the need to do that with Jay, something she found comfort in. But in that moment, she noticed a familiar hesitation in his voice that made her uneasy. He also seemed nervous, and she wasn’t quite sure why. Yet, she trusted him, so she decided to let it rest. She knew if it were important enough, he would tell her whatever it was when he was ready. Jay was just relieved that she didn’t press him further.

They had breakfast together before heading into work. It was a strange day. They hadn’t been called onto a new case all morning, so they spent the day catching up on paperwork. It was the type of day that had Adam climbing the walls, but everyone else was grateful for the rare quiet. Particularly, Jay, who took advantage of the quiet by conjuring up proposal ideas in his head.

By the end of the day, they were all dragging, running off of coffee and pacing the bullpen floor between their bouts of paperwork.

“Alright, everyone is coming out to Molly’s tonight. I don’t care if you already have plans. Cancel them. After this slow ass day, we’re popping things off tonight,” Adam announced, shoving himself away from his desk and rising from his chair the second it was six o’clock.

After heading out of the district, they all made their way to Molly’s to meet Adam’s wishes. Adam was already there when Jay and Hailey arrived, sitting next to an amused looking Kevin who watched his friend challenge a bunch of Squad 3 guys to a drinking challenge.

Jay settled at a table near the back as Hailey made her way to the bar to get them drinks, leaving a kiss against his temple and sliding a hand across his back before stepping away. Will was at the bar, engaged in a conversation with Herrmann when she walked up.

“Hey Will,” she said, nudging her shoulder against his as she stepped up to the bar.

“Hey there,” he replied back with a smile, bringing his glass to his lips.

“Two beers please,” she said to Herrmann in a sweet tone before settling on the barstool next to the doctor.

“So did you end up finding your keys?” She asked, remembering the story Jay had told her earlier that morning.

“Uh, what?” Will questioned, sending her a look of confusion.

“Your keys? Jay said he had to meet you this morning to give you the spare…” her voice trailed off, a feeling of suspicion building up in her stomach at Will’s clueless expression.  

“Oh… yeah…” he let out as his eyes travelled over to his brother across the bar. “Yeah, I found them in my locker at work. Late shift last night, must have just blanked,” he admitted unconvincingly. Hailey’s eyes narrowed at him, and she bobbed her head slowly as she began to officially question why the two of them were lying to her. Herrmann set the drinks in front of her on the bar, and she thanked him, sending a departing nod to Will before making her way back over to Jay.

“So, Will found his keys,” she said, setting the bottles on the table between her and Jay before sliding onto the chair across from him.

“Wait, what?” He asked, causing her to raise a questioning brow at him, anger rising in her chest. He looked at her and then over at Will, confusion still forestalling his understanding. Then it hit him. His cover from earlier.

“Why are you lying to me Jay?” She questioned straightly, a steely tone in her voice.  

“What? No, I-“ he paused. He couldn’t lie to her again, but he also couldn’t tell her the truth without ruining the surprise. He sighed in defeat. “Look right now, I can’t tell you where I was. It’s nothing bad. I promise. I just can’t tell you and need you to trust me,” he pleaded.

Her lips folded together, and she nodded in annoyance before rising from her chair to walk away.

“Hailey, wait,” he said, grabbing gently at her arm before she could make her way past him.

“No, Jay. I don’t do lying and you know that. Whatever it is, good or bad, you could have just said you couldn’t tell me yet and I would have respected that. Instead, you lied, but don’t worry your brother did too,” she shook her head with frustration. Suddenly, an eerie feeling of déjà vu brought her back to the many times as a kid when her mother would cover her father’s stories and excuses with even more lies. “I’m going home,” she told him, tearing away from his grasp.

“Let me at least drive you,” he said, a softness in his eyes.

“No, I’ll call a car,” she said before walking away and out to the street.

Will must have noticed their interaction and was making his way over to his brother.

“Dude, what the hell is going on?” He questioned, sliding into the chair Hailey had just fled from.

“I picked up the ring this morning and had to lie about where I was so she wouldn’t find out. Now, she’s pissed,” Jay said, taking a large swig from his bottle.

“Why don’t you just go tell her?” Will questioned.

“I want it to be perfect. She deserves something special, and I haven’t had the chance to figure out what that is yet. Now is just not the time,” he admitted.

“Or now is just the time. Jay, no matter how you ask that girl, she’s going to say yes a million times over. There may never be a perfect time or place to ask her, and if you wait too long, it may be too late to get the answer you want. Don’t ruin this thing you’ve got because you’re too stuck in your head. The two of you are meant for each other, I know it. So don’t overthink it. Just do it,” Will shrugged, bringing a hand to Jay’s shoulder as he tried to talk sense into him. Jay nodded at his words, rising from his chair to go chase after her.

“Hailey,” he called out as he caught sight of the blonde waiting at the corner.

“Jay, I’m really not in the mood,” she breathed out, her body still facing the street.

“Hailey, please. I just need you to trust me.”

“Jay, you know I trust you,” she said, twirling around to face him. “I’ve trusted you from the day I met you-” she got out, and suddenly it clicked in his head. He knew exactly where and how he wanted to ask her. He pulled out his keys, clicking the lock for his truck before grabbing her hand and pulling her towards it.

“Jay, what are you doing?” She protested, pulling away as he tried to drag her towards the truck.

“Hailey, please. Cancel your ride and get in the truck, we have to go back to the district,” he said, continuing to pull her with him.

“The district? Jay, what is going on?” She frowned, planting her feet firmly when they reached outside the passenger door of his truck.

“I’m going to tell you everything, just get in the truck.”

She eyed him, crossing her arms as she stood her ground.

He stepped closer to her, hunching over so he was eye level with her and bringing his face inches away from hers.

“Get. In. The. Truck. Please,” he whispered. She gave in, shaking her head in annoyance before climbing in. He leaned forward, stealing a kiss from her lips, eliciting an eye roll and a reluctant smile out of her.

“For the record, I’m still pissed at you,” she said.

“Hopefully not for long,” he teased before shutting the door.  

Back at the district, he turned off the engine, jumping from the driver’s seat and running to her side of the truck to open the door.

“Jay. What are we doing here?” She questioned. He brought a finger up to his lips in response before offering her a hand to get out of the truck. Once she was out, he reached in, grabbing the ring from his glove compartment before putting it in his pocket and shutting the door. He grabbed her hand, leading her into the building and up the stairs into the district. He held tightly to her as he dragged her upstairs to the bullpen, the baffled look on her face growing the deeper into the district they went. Finally, he pulled her past the desks, through the dark hallway, and into the observation room. He turned on the low light and shut the door, moving to lean up against the glass as he eyed her perplexed and annoyed face across from him. He took a deep breath.

“This is not at all where I imagined we’d end up tonight,” he admitted, a slight smile on his face.

“Then why are we here?” She mocked, now equal parts annoyed and curious by his actions.

“You know to anyone else in the district, this is just a lowly observation room. A horribly lit, tiny little room they probably don’t even think twice about. But to me? To me this room…it’s special,” he said, taking a beat as his eyes circled the room before finding their way back to her.

“Three years ago we stood in this room as completely different people. You were with someone else, I was just beginning to come out of a bad place, and everything was just… different. But you said something to me that day that changed my life forever. I was in here beating myself up over a case, one that you backed me up with when I gave you no reason to, and you told me you trusted me from the day you met me. Same way you did tonight. You said that if you were to follow someone blind, you’d follow me. Well, that was the moment I realized I was in love with you, and every day since then, I’ve loved you Hailey Upton,” he said, tears filling his eyes as he smiled through his words. “Every moment with you since then, to the moment we kissed in that bar, to now, you have filled my heart in ways I never knew could be filled. A few months ago when you and Kim were working that UC case in that bar, there was a brief period of time when I thought I had lost you. That night, I decided I didn’t want to feel that way again. I decided I wanted to be with you forever. We’re better together, and the same way that you told me you’d follow me, I’m going to follow you… for the rest of my life,” he said, pulling the ring from his pocket and dropping to his knee.

“Hailey Anne Upton, marry me,” he breathed out. It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a command, it was a heartfelt plea that felt so natural falling from his lips. He watched as tears welled up in her eyes and a smile grew across her face. She stepped forward, cupping the sides of his face in her hands before nodding.

“I’ll marry you, Jay Halstead,” she affirmed as tears spilled out from her eyes. She kissed him hungrily, following his lips as they pulled back and tugged at hers. He stood, grabbing her up in his arms without breaking away, gently lifting her feet from the floor. Eventually, they pulled apart and she took in the sight of the ring for the first time. It was so perfect, and though she wasn’t much of a jewelry girl, she loved everything about it. Jay took it out of the box and slipped it onto her finger before wrapping her in his arms and twirling her around.

“Is this why you were working overtime so much?” she questioned, her glossy eyes continuing to spill out tears as he planted her back on her feet. He nodded.

“So you’re not actually doing modifications to your truck?” she questioned with a laugh, still trying to catch up to reality.

“No,” he laughed. “And this morning I never intended to go to the store. I was picking this up at the jeweler,” he laughed, playing with her hand that rested in his as he spoke.

“I’m sorry for lying. I never meant to hurt you, can you forgive me?” He questioned. She looked down at the ring on her finger and then back up at him.

“I guess,” she teased sarcastically, with a sly smile before rising on her tip toes and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

As Jay held her in his arms, he knew his brother was right. It was just the time, and he was surprisingly glad he didn’t have to wait until their anniversary. All of that overthinking would have never led to a moment more perfect than that one. Taking her back to that place he realized his love for her, a place that was so uniquely them wasn’t anything he could have planned without the spontaneity of that night. The ring was on her finger, and they were going to be each other’s forever, nothing could have been more perfect than that.

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift part 5 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Quick summary: You learn the meaning behind Frankie's nickname

Warnings: None, I think, please let me know if I need to add some <3

W/C: 1.7k

Spotify (mainly just vibes, some songs have meaning, also updated regularly)

Part 1 Part 6

The smell of cooking bacon made your stomach growl as you entered the diner on Tuesday evening. You hadn’t eaten much all day, just a piece of toast and a handful of stale cheerios. Frankie was in the kitchen, his back to you. Your throat dried at the sight of him, remembering what you had done and how you had fantasized about him only a few hours earlier.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said, pushing thoughts of what you wanted him to do with his hands out of your mind. Stop being such a hornbag! You scolded yourself. Then he set those dark brown eyes on you and your brain ceased to function. Could he see your secret written on your face?

“Hey,” he said, smiling up at you. “You look tired.”

You almost sighed in relief. Maybe he couldn’t tell at all. You grabbed the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup. “I didn’t sleep much today. I was . . . worried about the kitten.” It wasn’t a whole lie; you really were worried about the kitten. The vet hadn’t sent you any updates, and you hoped that was a good thing.

“Are you gonna keep the kitten, if she lives?” Frankie flipped eggs as he spoke and set up a couple of plates.

“I can’t,” you grimaced, “Kurt would never go for it. He’s not really a fan of pets.”

Frankie made a face. “Not even adorable kittens?”

“Not even then,” you sighed. “It’s fine, though. It’s not like I have the time to properly care for one. I’m here most nights and I’m so busy with housework during the day when I’m not sleeping that it just- it just wouldn’t work.”

You kept your tone light, aware that customers could be listening. You didn’t want to scare off any tips with how miserable the subject made you. Frankie seemed to understand, because he didn’t bring the subject back up.

You were surprised at how easily you two worked together. Completely in sync when you had to be, entire sentences seemed to be translated through quick looks and raised eyebrows. This guy is a serial complainer. Want me to do something about those frat boys? Can you pretty please make me one of whatever this lady’s having?

All too soon it was 5:30 and the morning crew was there, breaking the comfortable silence between you. You found yourself lingering again, although you weren’t sure what for. You didn’t exactly need to stay. But still.

~*~

Frankie was shocked to see you still there. He was pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket when he saw you, standing outside, shivering in the early spring air.

“Thought’d you’d be halfway home by now,” he said, but he was still pleased to see you. He had come to the conclusion last night that you had a boyfriend, he would respect that and not make any untoward moves on you. Friendship suited him fine, even if he did think your boyfriend was a bit of a freak for not wanting a pet.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” Frankie prompted.

“How’d you get the nickname Catfish?”

At this, Frankie’s lips twitched. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Before we were deployed, the boys and I went on a fishing trip. Well, one thing led to another and I had a huge catfish on my hook. This was a catch and release type of situation, you know?” When you nodded, he continued. “So, I reach in this creatures mouth to unhook it, and the bastard clamps down! Whole hand, in its mouth! And the thing about catfish, is they don’t have teeth, so they can’t technically bite, but they suck. It was like my hand was in a vacuum seal. When I eventually managed to get it out, no help from the boys mind you, it looked like a giant hickey on my hand. So, that’s where the nickname comes from.”

You snorted with laughter, and Frankie began to laugh too. At the time, it hadn’t been funny but looking back, he knew he would have been laughing his ass off if it happened to any of the other boys.

“I think Santi got a photo of it, I’ll try and find it for you if you want,” Frankie said. You nodded eagerly, wiping a tear from your eye.

“Please do, I’d love to see it,” you said with a grin that made his heart do something it really shouldn’t. Frankie nodded, making a mental note to call Santi and demand that the bastard rip apart his house to find it if he had to.

You turned to leave, and before he could stop himself, he was asking “do you want a ride?” Friends gave each other rides when they needed it, he reasoned. You hesitated, and Frankie kicked himself. Of course he’d overstepped. You didn’t know him that well, he was just the fry cook.

“Uh, yeah actually. It looks like it might rain.”

As if you had summoned it, thunder rumbled low overhead. Fat drops of rain began to fall slowly painting the ground. Frankie jangled his keys and you both sprinted to his truck. He opened your door for you, and ran around to his side. He didn’t miss that you sat with your back ridgid, your hands curled so tightly your knuckles were white.

“You okay?” he asked, although you obviously were not.

“Yeah, no, it’s just . . . You’re aware your truck looks like a death trap?”

Frankie snorted. He was very aware of this, but he was also very aware of what was under the hood. He trusted this truck more than any fancy modern car. Still. He decided that this was the perfect opportunity to mess with you. Just to see how you responded.

“Have you ever seen The Fast and The Furious?” He began, and you raised an eyebrow at him, your face skeptical. “Tokyo Drift, specifically. Well, this truck won me the title of Drift King several years in a row. That’s how well she runs.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You rolled your eyes, but you were laughing. “That’s not even slightly believable.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But how cool would it be if it were true.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you were smiling as you did it, and Frankie counted that as a victory. You gave him directions as he drove, surprising him with how close you lived to him. Only a five minute drive away. How long had you been this close? How had he never noticed you in the neighbourhood? Had he been blind, all these years?

“Thank you,” you said quietly as he pulled up outside your building, a three story walk up with a faded brick facade. The rain was coming down hard now, and lightning flashed.

“Anytime,” Frankie said in a tone that he truly meant any time. You nodded and ran through the rain, disappearing into the building. Frankie idled for a moment, wishing he could call you back and kiss you goodbye.

But he didn’t, because it wasn’t decent and it wasn’t what friends did. Friends didn’t crush on their friend like a fucking idiot kid.

So Frankie drove himself home and drove all thoughts of your mouth out of his head. That was until he checked his phone, and saw a text from an unknown number.

Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it :) sent 5:57AM

Frankie quickly saved your number in his phone, not taking the risk of losing it somehow. A second message from you buzzed through.

Oh and lunch on Sunday is at Taylor’s Bistro, on High Street if you still wanna come sent 6:01AM

Frankie wrote his message quickly.

Wouldn’t miss it x

He stared at it for too long, erased the x, replaced it with a smiley face and hit send before he could overthink it entirely. Then he remembered his promise to you, and called Santi almost instantly.

“Fish, what the fuck man? It’s four in the morning,” Santi groaned into the phone.

“It’s six you dope, but I need a favour,” Frankie said.

“Money?”

“No, man, nothing like that. Do you still have that photo of the catfish on my hand?”

“Yeah I’ve got a copy in my wallet.” Santi sounded more awake, and Frankie could hear his fancy espresso machine whir to life.

“Why do you- nevermind. Look, I need a copy ASAP.”

“What for? If it’s to destroy it just know I’ve thought ahead and I’ve got four physical copies and one in the Cloud.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s for a girl at work, she asked how I got my callsign and now I’ve gotta show her the photo.”

“Oh?” Santi sounded intrigued. “Who’s this girl?”

“A friend,” Frankie said a little forcefully. “She has a boyfriend.” As if that closed the matter. Apparently, it didn’t.

“Why should that stop you?” Santi asked. “You’re hot, I don’t know this chick but she’d be blind to not be into you.”

“Well, for one, my brain isn’t directly wired with my dick.” At this, Santiago scoffed. Frankie continued, ignoring him. “Secondly, she’s like, twenty five or six. She’s probably not into old guys.”

“You’re thirty-three, you’re not old. Also, chicks dig DILFs.”

“I don’t have a kid.”

“And yet you still have big DILF energy. I wonder if there are any little Francisco’s running around that we have yet to discover.”

“Shut the fuck up, man, it’s bad luck to say that kind of shit. Just get the photo to me, please.”

Santiago roared with laughter as Frankie hung up. Trust Santiago to work one of his deepest fears into conversation. Frankie wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of: having children, or having children and having no clue they existed. It wasn’t that he was against having kids altogether, it was just he knew he wasn’t in the right headspace to take care of someone who depended on him entirely. Some days he forgot to take care of himself, he didn’t want a kid to suffer. It wouldn’t be fair.

He brushed the thought aside as he climbed into bed. It was bad luck to linger on bad thoughts, at least, that’s what his abuela always told him whenever he complained about something as a kid.

He wasn’t sure why exactly he had told you that there was photographic evidence of a catfish latched onto his hand. Maybe he wanted to impress you? But no, he reasoned, there was nothing impressive about that. It was just plain embarrassing. He realised with a start that what he wanted was willing to do anything to hear your laugh again.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish

[kingexpl0sionmurder]

An Accidental Series Of Fortunate Events - Kaminari Denki - Smut

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder​ Rating: NSFW 18+ Pairing: Kaminari Denki / F!Reader Words: 6,000 Warnings: Swearing, unprotected sex in an uncomfortable place (aka a vehicle), Denki is an idiot, I make a thinly veiled jab at The Walking Dead cause fuck that show, I was inspired after watching Zombieland, Kirishima with dark hair because who has time to bleach and dye when there are zombies running around?

AN: Another collab piece for the BNHarem server! This month’s theme is Apocalypse, and I got a chance to try my hand at Denki this time around. I think it came out pretty good! Shout outs to my pals @unbreakablekiribaku​ and @420bakubaby​ for your encouragement, and to all my loves over in WAP, you know who you are! <3

Check out the rest of the pieces in this collab HERE My Masterlist Buy me a Ko-Fi? ------

Denki sighed, adjusting his backpack as he trudged along the highway. It had been months since the disease had ravaged the country, a plague that no one had foreseen taking the lives of nearly every person in Japan.

He assumed he couldn’t be the only survivor, but he’d yet to see anything that told him otherwise. He didn’t even really understand how he could still be among the living if he was being honest. Denki’s life had always seemed like an accidental series of fortunate events. He got by on sheer luck. He couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t supposed to be here.

He had tried to search for his friends with the panic hit. The chaos, the recently deceased coming back to life and hungry for humans, the whole thing seemed like something out of a terrible movie or a graphic novel turned TV show that was way too long and drawn out. The only person he’d managed to get a hold of was Sero, and their call had been cut short when the towers had gone down. And that had happened right after the entire city had lost power.

Being a pro hero, he went out into the streets to try and help, attempting to get people to safety and fighting those...things? Zombies? It felt so surreal to even say, even though he had experienced it first hand, watched as the man he saw at the convenience store around the corner from his apartment every morning full-on sprinted at the lady who always walked her Shiba Inu down to the park on Saturdays and ripped her throat out with his teeth.

Shuddering at the memory, he weaved around an abandoned car in the road, peering cautiously into the front seat to make sure that no one was hiding inside and hungry for flesh.

He kept a mental list now of things he had to do, rules he’d made for himself to keep surviving. Double-checking his surroundings was one of them. So when he heard the sound of tires on pavement, the revving of an engine from somewhere behind him, he was prepared, quick to run behind a car that was resting on its side, pressing himself against the undercarriage and listening closely.

Unless the walking dead was able to drive, he finally had an answer as to whether or not he was the last one alive. The question was, was this person going to be a friend or foe?

He heard the engine start to quiet, the sound of the vehicle slowing just beyond where he hid, and braced himself, his first unclenching as lightning coursed along his palms. He chanced a glance over the side of the car when he heard the transmission shift into park, and the sound of the truck door creaking open. What he saw nearly took his breath away.

You were standing on the road, a sawed-off shotgun in hand, your hair tied back and away from your face. Your tattered tank top was streaked in dirt and dried blood, your legs in dark jeans that were tucked into black combat boots. You were beautiful, and you were staring right at him, the gun pointed in his direction.

He ducked back down, his breathing ragged as he tried to figure out what to do now. Did he attack? Did he try to talk to you?

“Hey, Blondie! You gonna hide back there or come out and face me?”

He went rigid, eyes wide. Time to turn on the old Denki charm. He stood, breathing deeply and schooling his features, turning to face you. “Hey, sweet cheeks, what brings you to a place like this?” 

You blinked at him, your mouth in a straight line, and he felt his confidence waver. “What does it look like? Just trying to survive. Are you an idiot or something?”

“Hey, no reason to be so harsh, babe. I’m just doing the same as you.” He cocked his hip out and rested his hand on it, shooting you a wink. “I was beginning to think I was alone out here.”

Your eyes drifted away from him and scanned the road, the sound of birds in the distance the only other sign of life. “You’re alone?”

“Course I am. What about you?” He didn’t dare move, trying to keep from staring down the barrel pointed at him. You were just a few feet away, and one pull on the trigger would blow him to pieces.

“There are others. I’m just on a supply run.” You were studying him, looking thoughtful. “Why aren’t you armed?”

He raised a hand, letting the electricity flow down his arm so you could see. “I’m always armed, angel.”

Rolling your eyes, you nodded. “Nice quirk.” You looked impressed, and he couldn’t help but preen a little. Your gun lowered slightly and he felt himself start to relax. “You got a name, blonde?”

“You can call me Kaminari.” He let his hand fall, chancing a step forward. “I don’t mean any harm. Like you said, I’m just trying not to die. Could you maybe put the gun down?”

“Nervous?” Smirking, you lowered the weapon, and he heaved a sigh of relief. “Alright, Kaminari. Why don’t you come with me? You hungry?”

“Starving.” He slumped a bit, finally feeling like you weren’t going to kill him. “I had some jerky for breakfast this morning but it wasn’t great.”

“Tch.” God, you sounded like Bakugou when you made that noise, and it made him miss his explosive friend. “I’ll bring you back to meet the others. If they decide they like you, maybe you could stay with us. We might be able to use that quirk of yours.” You turned back towards the truck you’d arrived in, making to get inside. “No promises, though.”

Denki hesitated for half a second. What if the others you were with didn’t like him? He knew he could be a pain in the ass sometimes. Ultimately he decided to go with you. If your group didn’t like him he could just continue on by himself.

Hurrying around the car, he shrugged off his backpack, opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat beside you. “Hey, you didn’t tell me your name, doll.”

He watched as you settled into the seat, pulling the seat belt across your chest and buckling it. Your eyes met his and you shot him a smile that made his chest tight. “It’s Y/N.”

--

The car ride back was mostly silent. He was itching to ask you things, the chatterbox in him just wanting to burst forth and talk at you for hours. It had been difficult, being alone, since he’d always been such a social butterfly. When all you had to talk to was yourself for months on end, things could get kind of boring.

However, he didn’t want to scare you off or make you think he was some kind of weirdo, so he stayed mostly silent. He did ask where you were from originally, and about the others you were with, but your answers were short and lacking in detail, and he didn’t want to pry.

“Didn’t you say you were on a supply run?” His eyes were trained on the road ahead, keeping a lookout for the lumbering undead.

“Yeah, I hit up a drug store in the next town over.” You gestured to the back seat. “Medicine and bandages, bottled water, and some canned food. We only take what we need at the moment. We never know how long we’re going to be in one place, so we try to keep it light.”

“That makes sense.” From what he gathered, your group wasn’t large. There were only about 5 of you, so he assumed it was easier for you not to have a large number of things to carry around with you.

“Yeah, we’ve found a house in an abandoned neighborhood to stay in for now. We spent a few days combing through the houses in it, and it looks like the area has been empty for a while.” Your fingers tapped on the steering wheel as you turned the car and took an exit ramp off the highway. “I’m kind of hoping we can stay for a while. It’s nice to sleep on a mattress, and it’s got running water.”

“Oh man, a shower sounds so freaking nice.” Leaning back against the seat, he glanced over at you. “It’s hard when you’re on your own, there’s no one to watch your back.” He shivered when he pictured trying to shower and being attacked by a zombie while he was butt ass naked. “Even going to the bathroom is a risk.”

Snorting, you made a right turn and scrunched your nose. “Imagine dying with your pants around your ankles?”

“My literal worst nightmare.” You both burst into a fit of giggles, and Denki felt the awkward tension in the car ease a bit.

You started pointing out landmarks and abandoned stores. “We’re thinking this was one of the first neighborhoods to evacuate when things got bad. The houses are upscale, so we think they might have been tipped off early. Kind of sucks that the rest of us weren’t prepared at all compared to them.”

Nodding, Denki agreed. “It was absolute chaos in Musutafu. I was on the streets trying to help and just watching people rip each other apart. I’ve never seen anything more terrifying in my life.”

“You’re from Musutafu? So are a few of the people in my group.”

Denki watched out the window as you turned down a side road, the remains of a gated communities’ security booth on your left. The door looked like it had been blown off its hinges, and the windows all around it had been smashed. “Did you check the whole neighborhood?”

“Yeah, we started at one end and searched through all the houses. We were mostly looking for survivors, but we didn’t find anyone.” 

You followed the main road as he gazed at the abandoned mini-mansions. Tall grass swayed on every lawn, an obvious tell that it had been some time since there had been any landscaping done. Denki tried to picture what this neighborhood would have looked like before disaster struck, picturesque, with luxury cars in the driveways and well-manicured lawns, kids playing in the street, housewives lounging by their in-ground pools. It was jarring to think it would probably never look that way again.

You pulled the truck into the driveway of a large house at the end of the road, stopping in front of a closed gate. The tall fence connected to it wrapped around the property as far as he could see, and he could just make out a low man-made rock wall just beyond it, like someone had busted up giant slabs of concrete and stacked them all the way around, just to reinforce the fence. He had a feeling that was something that your group had constructed.

“Before we go in, I just want you to know, our self-proclaimed leader can be kind of a dickhead.” You moved to take off your seat belt and shot him a look. “He’s smart as fuck though and he helps protect us, so he’s not all bad. Just keep your head down and don’t provoke him and you’ll be fine.”

“Sounds like someone I used to know. I can handle it, don’t worry.” He cracked his knuckles and grinned at you. “I’m a pro at dealing with dudes like that.”

Eyes rolling, you shook your head. “It’s your funeral.” You got out of the truck and moved to the fence, using a key from your back pocket on the padlock keeping it shut. Denki unbuckled his seat belt and slid into the driver’s seat, watching as you pushed on the gate and walked it forward, clearing the way. Denki drove the truck forward far enough so that you could close the lock the gate behind you. He made to move back over but was surprised when you climbed into the passenger seat. “Just keep going up, we’ll park in the garage.”

He followed your instructions, creeping up the driveway and towards the house, his foot pressing on the break when he noticed the pathway to the garage was blocked.

“Or not.” You sighed. “Just stop here.” 

Denki put the truck in park, eyebrows furrowed as he took in the scene before him. There was a car up on cinder blocks, blocking the entrance to the garage. Someone was lying underneath it, their jean-clad legs and black boots the only part of them he could see. He shut the car off and handed you the keys, sliding out of the car when you did.

“E, you’re blocking my spot.” You called, rounding the truck. “Come help me with this stuff and meet the new guy I found.”

“Sorry, Y/N. I’m trying to get this thing to run for us. I didn’t expect to still be working on it when you got back but I’m having trouble.” That voice was familiar, and Denki’s lungs seized in his chest. “Wait, did you say new guy?”

He watched as the man shuffled himself from under the car and stood, his hair long and dark, with red at the tips. Red eyes, pointy teeth. Eijirou Kirishima.

“Kiri?” Pain bloomed through his chest like his heart had stopped beating. He never thought he’d see any of his friends ever again, but here he was, one of his best bros in the entire world. 

Kirishima looked up at him, a million emotions flitting across his face before it split into the blinding smile he was used to seeing on his friend’s face. “Denki?”

Denki launched himself at his friend, throwing his arms around him, relief flooding through his entire body. Kirishima picked him up, laughing and hugging him tightly. “Holy shit.” They stayed that way longer than necessary, swaying back and forth and mumbling into each other’s shoulders.

“Thought you were dead, dude. What the fuck?” Red Riot finally put him down, rubbing at his eyes and sniffling,

“I’m a bad bitch, they can’t kill me.” Chuckling wetly, he slapped his friend on the shoulder. “What, you give up on the box dye now that the world is ending?”

“I missed you, dude.” Kiri sighed, choosing to ignore the jab and reaching up to muss Denki’s hair.

“So...do you guys know each other?” Your voice broke them from their reunion.

He had almost forgotten you were standing there. Kiri seemed to be in the same boat. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, Y/N. We’ve known each other since we were 15. Went to UA together.”

“Does that mean-” You started, but Kirishima cut you off.

“Oh my god.” He turned to look at Denki and grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting towards the house. “HEY, SERO?!”

Denki knew he was going to cry for real now. His best friend was alive. The one person that he had been wishing to see this entire time was here, and Denki was going to get to see him again, all thanks to you. If he hadn’t run into you on the highway, this never would have happened. Swallowing thickly, trying to keep his emotions in check, he blinked up at Kirishima. “Sero is here?”

“Bakugou and Mina, too.” His formally red-haired friend turned towards the front door and threw an arm around Denki’s shoulders as they waited for the rest of the group to arrive. “The Bakusquad is back together.”

--

It had been so long since Denki had felt this relaxed. He’d showered and had a hot meal, and now he was lounging on a couch pressed up against Hanta Sero, his best friend. Kirishima and Bakugou were on the opposite couch, leaning against each other. Even though Bakugou had his normal stoic expression on his face, Denki knew he was happy. 

Mina was at his feet, chattering on and telling you about UA, and how Denki used to go stupid when he used his quirk too much. Her story came complete with her shooting a thumbs up, crossing her eyes and crying WHEEEEYYY, which had Sero and Kirishima in tears of laughter. Bakugou even cracked a smile, and Denki kind of wanted the floor to swallow him up. 

“Hey, do you need to tell her that, Mina?” He kicked his foot out, toes connecting with her back.

“Aw, are you embarrassed, Kami?” Teasing him, she poked his shin, before turning her gaze back to you. “Last I remember, our little Chargebolt here was in the top 20, so I’d say he’s got a handle on his quirk now.”

Denki felt his ears get hot, and he chanced a glance over at you, blushing even harder when you smiled at him. He’d only known you for a few hours and he was already smitten. Sure, it had been a while since he’d had any human contact, and it was hard to jerk it when you were fearing for your life at every moment. So it was only natural that he wanted to catch the attention of the prettiest girl he’d laid eyes on in months, right?

Sero pulled him up not long after, pushing him from the room and out the back sliding door. He leaned against the railing on the wooden patio, his neck craned so he could look up at the sky, and Denki settled beside him, mirroring his posture.

“I can’t believe we found you, man.”

Huffing a breath, Denki nodded. “Yeah, I know. I thought everyone I knew was dead. When we got cut off, I went out to help and figured I’d run into you, but shit was so crazy and I just...I don’t know. I wasn’t ready for that, dude. I became a hero to help people, not kill zombies. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I had to take their lives, even though it was clear that their humanity was gone, you know?”

Humming, Sero bumped their shoulders. “I get you. It’s fine. We all had to wrestle with that. It was hard for all of us.” Sighing, he gripped the railing and hoisted himself up to sit on it, swinging his feet. “The four of us were together, so we decided to stick that way and headed out of the city. We tried to find you, and I was looking for Shinsou too but, we didn’t want to stick around too long.” 

A comfortable silence washed over the two of them before Sero continued.

“We found Y/N not long after that, holed up in a convenience store, wielding a shotgun like a champ. She’s badass.” Sero let out a low whistle. “Man, she gave Bakugou the business as soon as he opened his mouth to snark at her. I’ve never seen him shut up so fast. Even Kiri can’t get him to be quiet like that. That’s when we decided to join up with her.”

Denki snorted a laugh, leaning back on his elbows and looking at his friend. “She pointed that thing straight at me and I panicked and called her like 6 different pet names.”

“You’re lucky you’re alive, Kami. She must like you.” 

--

It had been two weeks since Denki had met you on that deserted highway, and you’d reunited him with his friends. Bakugou had been talking about moving on for a few days, but the rest of the group seemed to be comfortable and happy in the house, so he hadn’t been pressing the issue much.

There hadn’t been one attack since Denki had arrived, and from what Mina had told him, they’d only seen a few of the undead since they’d found the place, so no one seemed to be too bothered by it. It still left him feeling uneasy, so used to having to be on alert at all times. 

That was the least of his worries when he got to spend time with you, however.

He’d become your official partner when you went on your supply runs, under the guise of keeping you company in the truck when you ventured out into the world. He really just wanted to spend time with you and get to know you better. You had opened up to him more once you realized he was trustworthy, his friendship with the rest of the group enough to prove that to you. 

The crush that he had developed on you that first day just seemed to grow more as time went on. He was in too deep, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself. In any normal circumstances, you would be completely out of his league, so he knew he had to take this opportunity while it was in front of him. 

He really did like you, situation aside. If he wasn’t constantly holed up with you in that house, or that truck, watching your back as you raided abandoned pharmacies and big-box stores for food and clothing and medicine, spending most of his waking moments in your company, he still would have grown fond of you in the way he had. It might have taken longer, but when every day could possibly be your last, there was no reason to pussyfoot around.

Unless your name was Denki Kaminari and you were a goddamn coward.

He was tired of hearing Mina and Sero complain that he was being a pussy, and that he should just make a move. He knew they were right, but there was this little voice in the back of his head that kept repeating the “what if’s”. What if you didn’t like him and you left the group because things got too weird? What if you did like him and he got nervous and fucked shit up? He needed to get out of his own head and just...do something. 

He didn’t expect that you were going to beat him to it.

“So,” you said, one hand on the steering wheel and your other elbow leaning against the door as you drove, the window cracked enough to let the breeze blow your hair around. “Are you ever going to kiss me, or are we just going to play this waiting game forever?”

Denki choked on his own spit, sputtering and coughing. “I’m sorry, what?”

Shaking your head, you paused, and he assumed you were waiting for him to stop wheezing. “I mean, am I reading this wrong? You’re into me, right?”

Pushing his hair back from his forehead (which you had generously cut for him the day before), he chanced a glance over at you, steeling himself. ‘Well, yeah, ever since you pointed a gun at me and almost made me wet myself.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Don’t be a wuss, Denki.” 

“I love it when you insult me, baby.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he licked his lips. “So, what? You’ve been waiting for me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I didn’t want things to be weird, but I knew I couldn’t be wrong. I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.” Biting your lip, you turned to look at him for a moment. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since you shot me finger guns and called me babe.”

Rubbing at the back of his neck nervously, he hummed. “Most of the time that scares women away. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong with you?”

“We’re all a little crazy, I guess. I think that’s why we’ve survived this long.” Your smile was contagious, and he couldn’t help but grin back, his arm moving across the center console, his hand open and palm up. 

You adjusted your grip on the wheel to the other hand, reaching out with your right and letting your fingers slot between his. He squeezed your hand, his eyes fixed out the windshield as you took the familiar highway back towards the house.

The ride back was comfortably silent, your fingers intertwined the whole way. Denki’s heart was pounding against his ribcage as he tried to think of what to do or say next. You, however, had other ideas. 

You turned onto the main road that led into the once gated community. He furrowed his brows, confused when you make a left down an unfamiliar street. The houses here were just as abandoned, all of their front doors marked with a spray painted red x.

“We marked them after we went through the houses, so we would remember where we’d already checked. It took us about a week to get through the entire neighborhood.” You explained, somehow knowing what he was thinking.

The road ended in a cul-de-sac, and you pulled the truck around in a circle until it was facing the exit, letting go of his hand so you could shift it into park and turn off the engine. He watched as you unbuckled your seat belt and shifted the seat back away from the steering wheel, his lungs seizing as you climbed over the center console and into his lap.

“Not that I’m complaining, but-” He hands moved to grip your waist and keep you steady as your straddled him, your knees on either side of his hips. 

“I’m going to get my kiss, and I’m not going to do it in that house with the rest of those idiots around.” Your hand moved to his hip, fingers pressing the release on his seat belt. He let go of you long enough to pull the offending nylon belt off of him, the sound of the metal slapping against the door as it sprung back into place nearly startling him out of his skin. 

“Yes ma’am.” Swallowing thickly, he pushed a piece of your hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear. 

The next few moments were in slow motion, eyes fluttering shut, and chests pressing together as you moved closer. His palm slid to cup the side of your neck, your head tilting slightly as your lips finally met.

It took Denki every ounce of control he had not to let his quirk discharge when he finally got to taste your lips. It was everything he’d been hoping for and more. You tasted like the Dr.Pepper you’d gotten when you’d stopped at the pharmacy, and he could smell the scent of your shampoo now that he was close enough. He was addicted almost instantly.

Your lips were soft and pillowy, and he pressed you closer, wanting more. The feel of your hands on his shoulders, nails raking down the front of his t-shirt, and the quiet moan that left you when his right hand squeezed your hip was almost his undoing, but he held on. He would take this at whatever pace you wanted. You were in control.

You pulled away, gasping for air, your nose brushing against his and breath mingling. “You okay?” It was probably a stupid question, but he had to ask. If you felt anything like he did, then you were doing just fine.

“Mmm.” His sentiments exactly. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, a smile gracing them. “I kind of want more. Is it too soon? Maybe.”

“Well,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve been telling myself for weeks that we could all die tomorrow, and that I shouldn’t be scared and just go for it, so if that’s what you need to hear…”

“Yep, that’s what I needed.” Blinking at him and biting your lip, your hips ground down against his, the sound of his groan filling the truck. “Fuck it, right? You only live once, and all that shit.”

“Fuck, yes. Bless up, Drake.” He let his hands dip under the hem of your t-shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers sliding over your soft skin. 

You sat back and ripped your shirt over your head so suddenly he wasn’t prepared for the movement, and he grabbed your waist again to steady you. “I’ve waited too damn long, Denki. Please, I need you, okay?”

Nodding, he swallowed down his nerves, wanting to show you how much he needed you, too. “You got it, princess. Whatever you want.”

“Shirt off. Pants, too.” 

As hot as the moment was, the next few minutes were filled with a lot of giggling and awkward movements as you both tried to undress in the passenger seat of the truck. Denki had the advantage because he was still sitting in the seat, and he just needed to pull his pants and boxers down around his thighs. 

You, on the other hand, had your ass pressed against the windshield as you pulled off your boots and tried to tug your skinny jeans down your legs. He tried to help as best he could, keeping you upright and tugging on the denim one-handed until you were able to step out of them. Black lace panties followed, and then you were back on his lap, your mouth pressed to his as your hand wrapped around his aching cock.

Breathless and still laughing, he moaned as your tongues battled for dominance, his hands roaming up and down your sides as you tugged on his hair. Warm fingers moved between the apex of your thighs, dipping through your folds, causing you to break the kiss, throwing your head back. Denki took the opportunity to mouth at your neck, teeth grazing along your skin, biting and sucking marks into your flesh. He inserted one finger inside of you, groaning as your body squeezed around the digit. You were warm and so wet, and he imagined what it would feel like, your muscles clenching down around his cock when he was buried inside of you.

He timed the thrusting of his fingers with the slow drag of your hand around his cock, your moans filling his ears as you rocked back against his hand. He inserted a second finger, scissoring them and stretching you out, taking his time to prepare you. He wanted this to be good, but with the way you felt around him, the way your body felt pressed against him, and the noises you were making, he wasn’t sure how long he was going to last.

Thumb rubbing against your clit, he added a third finger, the lewd squelching noises coming from your cunt enough to make his eyes roll back. You were chanting his name in his ear, your forehead pressed against his shoulder as your body rolled against him, your strokes losing momentum.  He couldn’t wait any longer.

Pulling his hand from you slowly, he lifted you to sit back a little, adjusting himself and guiding you back towards him. You raised up on your knees, hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, cheeks flushed and lips swollen from biting down on them. You looked so beautiful, and he thanked whoever it was that put him right here in this moment with you. 

You smiled at him, and he heard your shaky intake of breath as you lined yourself up and sunk down on his cock. You moaned in tandem, your nails biting into his skin as your grip tightened, hips stilling as he bottomed out inside of you. Denki was grateful for the cracked windows because the breeze that blew through the car felt nice against his burning skin, the beads of sweat dripping down his temple turning cold, and making him shiver. 

The realization that even though the windows were cracked open, there was no one around to hear the two of you. Grinning, he thought of all the ways he could make you scream once you were ready for him to move, and he couldn’t wait to hear you cry out his name.

You didn’t keep him waiting long, your cunt squeezing around him was all the indication he needed to start moving. Holding onto your hips tightly, he bucked up into you, reveling in the way you moaned, his toes curling as your hips ground down in sync with his. 

Your body welcomed him in with little resistance, gripping his cock, the warm and wet slide as he plunged in and out of you making him dizzy. He focused his attention on unclasping your bra with one hand, pulling it down your arms and letting your breasts spill free from their confines, his head ducking down and his mouth immediately latching onto your hardened nipple. 

Your moaning became louder, pussy clenching around him like a vice, unintelligible babbles spilling from your lips as he sucked, teeth grazing the hardened bud, his other hand massaging your other breast.

“Denki, Denki...please. Fuck, I need to come, please.”

Grunting in response, he let your nipple go with a pop, back straightening as he sat up. His fingers brushed along your cheek, turning you to face him properly, his thumb pulling on your bottom lip. “Need to come already, Y/N?”

“Yes, fuck, feels so good, Denki. Please.” Your tongue darted out to lick the pad of his thumb and he shivered again. He could feel the blood in his body traveling south, the wrecked look on your face as you bucked down against him driving him to the edge.

He used his now spit slicked thumb to rub against your clit in tight circles as he slammed into you, teeth nipping on your earlobe as he rasped in your ear. “God, fuck, come for me Y/N. Come on my cock, baby.”

Later on, he would tease you and tell you that even though you were a few blocks away, he wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of your group didn’t hear the noise you made when you reached your end. Your entire body locked up, trembling violently, the cry of his name that left your lips throwing him over the edge as well. He buried his face in your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you as his cock twitched, filling you with thick ropes of cum. It was so much that he felt it leaking out of you as you slumped together to catch your breath, even though he was still inside you. 

After a while you sat back a little, peering at him with your face still flushed, tears clinging to your lashes.

“You alright?” He brushed the wetness away with his thumb, biting his lip as he gazed at you fondly.

Nodding, you pushed your hair back from your face, a small smile on your lips. “I’m great. That was perfect. God, why did you wait so long, Denki?”

Rolling his eyes, he leaned forward to kiss you softly. “Good things come to those who wait and all that, you know?”

“Okay, but you were just scared I’d reject you, weren’t you?” You pinched his arm playfully, giggling at him when he winced and rubbed at the red mark you’d left.

“Maybe, but it was worth the wait, wasn’t it?” 

“You could say that.” Reaching up to pat down his mussed up hair, you fixed him with a serious look. “At least if I die tomorrow, I’ll know I was given the best dicking down I’ve ever received, and that it was from a top 20 pro hero to boot.”

“You just want me for my hero status, babe. Admit it.” He grinned, tickling your side.

“You caught me, Chargebolt. Now, let’s get cleaned up and get back before Bakugou comes looking for us and finds out we fucked in here. He’s going to be so pissed.”

“Let him be pissed.” Denki wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back to him, his lips finding yours again.

And for a few moments, he forgot that the world was ending and that the two of you could be ripped apart in seconds by hungry flesh-eating zombies

You were another accidental fortunate event that he’d stumbled into, and if that’s all that his life was meant to be full of, well, he didn’t mind it at all. 

[lorddistancebarry]

Forest In Chains - Chapter 1

"500, 600, 700, 800, 900.." Garcello counts the cash in his hands after he was given the bag of money. After Tabi fell and didn’t get back up from the half-giant cutting loose and throwing him through the cage into the left most stands of the audience. After the red haze cleared. After basically running with fire and panicking the entire way. He still feels the burns and cuts on his arms, chest and face from Tabi's strikes. The bruising deciding to make itself known by the numbness hidden via his bangs on the left side of his face. The wounds just adding on in a pile especially when the reaper decided to stop fucking around and went all in... his body shivers as the pain compounds and the wind from the September season hits him while he sits on the bench waiting for the bus.

"You barely von that, child." a deep, voice spoke.

Garcello looks up and looks intrigued and surprised at who it belonged to.

"Ruv.." He noted looking up from his money and putting it away, quickly.

"You did not expect me?" He noted with a smirk,"Illegal fight, legal fight. I come to all, vatch them. Sarvente spoke of it being good move. I believe her."

The large Russian man walks over and sits down like a neighbor to Garcello on the bus stop. "But, I can go on many years speaking about her." Ruv noted,"Vhat about you, Young Smoke? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Garcello admits,"Just.. didn't expect to get cut and burned alive like I'm a fuckin piece of meat."

"Equalizers are not to be trifled vith. As gang or as fighters in vrestling circuit." Ruv chuckles,"Go to be undefeated, An equalizer gets sent, test you. It is cycle to see if you are actually good or you are veak bitch."

"Well, was i actually good?" Garcello laughs wryly,"Cause i feel like shit."

"No, you vere lucky, you use your strength. You are shit, but vorkable shit. Trainable." Ruv critiques as he takes out his vodka flask from his jacket. "So.. you're going to train me?" Garcello asked looking up as Ruv drinks. "Vin against Agoti or Vhitty." He directs looking to Garcello stoically,"Then I teach you. I vant to see if your are vorth time."Ruv takes another drink from his flask. Garcello takes out one of his cigarettes and lights it. A green light illuminates at the end as he inhales, steam and smoke coalesces and flares outward into a glowing green, mist smoke hybrid. "I see." He nods once,"And if I am worth your time?" "I train you.break you, see vhat you.. really are. Then ve progress from there."  Ruv stated looking to Garcello with his lone, glossy eye. Almost seeming to look through Garcello and into him.Garcello shivers looking back. Friend? Enemy? "I see." He gets up as the bus is rolling up."Well for now.. I'm gonna get dinner and go home. Thanks for checking up on me." "Anytime. I do not like promising student, be jumped by Equalizer scum." Ruv chuckles with a grin. Garcello pales a bit, "Uh... what?" Ruv looks to the fellow titan with an incredulous stare,"You scraped out vin, but you also humiliated Tabi. Young Reaper vill vant revenge..." The Russian raises an eyebrow,"You did not expect that?" "But you beat some of the Equalizer's asses and you didn't get  jumped!" Garcello points out as the whir of steam leaving the bus' brakes occurs and the door's open. "That is because of grace of God and grace of throwing truck across street." Ruv laughs wryly,"Now go, child. Before you are stuck here." Garcello waves Ruv off before getting on the bus and using his bus card. A satisfied beep of payment as he moves. Knowing the timer, he sits down quickly before the bus moves with a hiss of the breaks lifting from the ground and the bus hovers, flying down the roads and over ground locked travel.He looks out the window at the night sky and at the many lights below of Funk City. Advertisements, cars, city signs, street lights. Garcello lets his mind wander at the light pollution and the sound of hover cars flying by. Its mesmerizing. Watching everything just fly, zip, and zop by. Time could pass as the colors of the city and the energy takes him in. The concept when he was young had never gotten old or changed. The colors of the world, the lifeblood of the people moving, growing and just living. This is why he and his mother had migrated here. Such a decision had to be lived through not just decided on a whim. But this.. This wholesome peace and tranquility at this time. Away from the violence, the darkness and the weight of it all... Was a very big deciding factor. "One day... they will be able to feel this way.." Garcello resolves quietly as he looks down through the window to the city below. "Feel so.. free..." He coos starting to let the pain and tiredness get to him. Starting to fall asleep on the bus and get complacent in his space... until a growling, gurgling reminder makes itself painfully known in his core. The tender flesh of wounds on his abdomen only make it worse. His body went through hell.

It wants food, it needs it. He needs it. NOW. "First.... step... free myself." he grumbles softly as pain burns in his core and it forces him out of falling asleep and dragging on. Sitting up properly and starting to search for a close enough bus stop so he doesn't just add more suffering with a long as fuck walk that only lengthens the burning. Finding one, he pulls on the wire that signals the automated system to stop. The bus stops after a bit before landing with the soft 'woosh' of steam. Getting off the bus, he walks down the streets. Looking up to keep track of his own placement on the road, looking down to light a cigarette to ease some of the pain, looking back up now to search for those heavenly golden arches. After a minute, 6 cigarettes later.. the yellow and red light beams down upon his form. At this point, a soft, barely noticeable film of red covers everything and everyone that walks by and every sensation, smell and taste is heightened. Painfully so. "Finally..." he exhales, dry air hitting a watering, near drooling maw. He walks into the restaurant with a dragging motion of his feet. Garcello looms over to the counter with barely any real patience. People move away and those that don't, go quickly about their order then move. "Hi." he stated, "I would like.. the whole left menu. Twice. Add 6 McChicken meals. Super size it..." "I-is that-that all sir?" A timid female voice asked quietly. "Yes.." he confirms. Not really looking up. "It's going to be disc-discounted. Y-you don't mind right?" She asked.As she asks that, the red film sight as it was dies down a bit. Garcello looks up from the counter. There is only one person that ever asks about discounts in his mind. He looks at the attendant at the counter and sees the fuchsia and sky blue eyes looking up and right back at him from her gaunt, modest face and shivering, small frame. "Rebecca? What are you doin' here?!" He asked actually in shock. "Um.. well.." she shrugs,"I work here. Y/N got me the job, t-they're the manager." Garcello looks on in shock. He tilts his head back with an incredulous stare. Looking for you and seeing you wave a short, polite wave as you're working with the drive through attendants to ensure chaos is handled. Garcello looks back to Rebecca. "Don’t give me a discount girl just charge me normally. I'll treat ya." He says softly. "A-are you su-sure?" "Entirely." He nods handing over 80 dollars. "You were c-close but a bit over. Your price is 72 dollars and 12 cents." "I know." He nods,"Tips. Put the change in your pocket." Rebecca looks sheepish, looking down and shivering."B-but.." "Do it." He commands sternly. Rebecca takes the money, makes exact change and keeps it immediately. Every motion is fast and shaky like an unstable roller-coaster. "T-thanks..." she murmurs shyly poking her fingers together. "When are you two off?" He asked. "In.. 30 mins.." Rebecca looks up at Garcello. Her eyes narrow and she grimaces.."I'll get an ice baggy.. and. I'm going to be frank... I have questions. And if i have questions.. Y/N is going to want answers..." Garcello grinds his teeth,"Alright. I'll wait and we'll talk." Rebecca purses her lips then exhales,"Thank you." Garcello leaves from the counter and to one of the large benches at the furthest back of the restaurant and waits. Waiting, letting time pass as he patiently sits. His core burning with hunger and primal thoughts when the mental shock subsides. The herd is curious.. tell them. "I.. don’t want them in danger..." Lies are over... tell them something... they worry. They fear. "Garcello? Are you good?" You asked concerned, "Rebecca told me about.-" "The bruise on my face. I know." Garcello says as Rebecca comes over with the food trays. "Ice bag, 3 o clock?" Rebecca offers the baggie of ice. Garcello looks to it then takes the bag, wiggles up his cap and bangs, revealing the recently closed gashes, burns and cuts on his chin and face. Your eyes widen from the sight, brow furrowing in concern. "What h-happened?" Rebecca says before you do. You see Garcello is staring at the food, half listening. Mostly tired, dragging on fumes really. "No." You say then look to Garcello,"We talk. After you finish eating. Got it?" "Yes'm"  Garcello nods once then  finally let's his brain drop being alert.Rebecca looks to you with concern, she shakes more from anxiety. "Oh.. don't worry I know." Your reassure,"But overwhelming him is the last thing on my mind. I don't think this is a simple little 'fall' like last time anyway." "You want to h-hear it fro-from his mouth." You nod once and sit down before looking to Rebecca, she nods once with a small smile. "Both of us are signed out, we wont get in trouble with higher ups for over time."She confirms just before- CRUNCH! TEAAAR! SHHRRIIP! Garcello eats like they aren't there, there is no smacking noise. Just an absence of control from tiredness and physically going through hell. Hes going through hoops with food like a functioning sponge with water, trying to replenish what was forcefully squeezed out of him. Rebecca looks to you. "I.. haven't seen him like this.. or well this bad.. Do you think hes..." "I think so." you confirm," Maybe on drugs. But regardless of whatever it is... This cant be swept under the rug. Did you call Annie?" "I-I did." Rebecca nods,"She's coming as fast as possible. I warned her to not run red lights. I was promptly cursed out in German. I responded. She hung up knowing I was right." Garcello stops eating into his 6th McChicken. The man didn't unwrap the wrapper off, the whole ass sandwich is just getting murdered with his teeth. The devouring however stops short at the mention of Annie. With bloodshot eyes, he looks to Rebecca and you. "You.. are all going to be here?" he asked and you shake your head no. "No." You respond,"But. I'm happy you have a brain in there again. Because like it or not.. you're going to tell us what we need to know." Garcello pales in the face for a moment like he saw a ghost, his heart races in terror. His pupils contract as he knows hes cornered now. There is no wiggling out like before.

"We aren't g-going to hurt you, big guy." Rebecca coos softly. "I.. i know its jus'..." Garcello starts but its hard to put words together. "You know you can't bullshit us anymore." You finish looking at the man directly in his face. Garcello looks away looking down at the scraps of paper, unwrapped or just ripped apart making a mess on the table. "Yeah.. I cant." he confirms as Annie rampages in like a crashing tsunami and yells just as loud, scaring customers out of the restaurant. "NOW WHOMST THE FUCK JUMPED GARCELLO?! I'M ABOUT TO FUCKING BEAT THEIR SHIT IN!" Annie yells, her flesh is tinting blue from the glowing blue of her veins spidering from her skin. A sign of her stress before she drinks ‘the liquid’. "You bout to calm so i can explain." Garcello says strictly, unafraid as he’s been used to seeing the entity pour our from her veins and skin. He’s more than used to being attacked as he knows it doesn't like him. But for now it has no power here. Just like his other half. "Then talk." You egg on, as Annie takes a few breathes, grabs a chair and sits in it, the back of the chair acing the table."We're all listening." Garcello bites his lips. His S/O and his best friends, the core of the herd, his herd... now are looking at him like hes wounded. Doesn't help that he is on the outside and inside... ‘Now you gone and done it, Garcy.. but now.. what do you do now?’ He asks himself in his thoughts as he takes a deep breath in. Act as you are, You are alpha. Time to be a man.

[heartbeatan]

Devil's Garden: Chapter 4

Return to Chapter 3.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Desperado Series.

Return to Taehyung Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist

Chapter 4

You fucking idiot, Taehyung cursed himself when everything clicked. He knew that name. Stintsons. Fuck! He even wrote it down, double-underlined it so he could come back to it. He had the missing piece in his fucking hands for two days. He could have saved you from this. All he had to do was just been a detective for a fucking second, instead of fucking around with his thoughts of fucking his married client.

“He understands,” Mina’s gazed moved to Taehyung when your face showed no signs of overcoming confusion. He could see you turn to him in his periphery, but he didn’t look back. He had no time now to sympathize or explain, or to feel embarrassment or shame for not picking up on the connection sooner.

“We have no idea what he’s been up to, or what he does, and we don’t want to know,” Taehyung spoke, trying to keep his voice from vibrating in anger. “Let us go. We won’t talk to anyone; we’ll forget he exists. Erase him.”

“What?!” you breathed out at his proclamation. He winced wishing you had just kept still instead.

“I don’t think so,” said Mina. “Like I said, you showing up today is of great convenience to me, given the circumstance. I’m going to need you to do something for me first.”

Taehyung sighed and closed his eyes. When it comes to the mob, you never just “do something first.” That “doing something” leads to more doings, to incrimination, until you’re trapped, in jail or dead.

“I’ll do it. Whatever you want, just let her go. She doesn’t need to be apart of this,” he finally adjusted his tone towards Mina in his attempt at a plea. The corner of her mouth pulled up in a smug satisfaction to finally see him grovel.

“She’s already involved,” Mina said as she turned to walk out of the room. “It’s you I don’t need. So, you decide how long you’ll be sticking around. But…” she pointed her finger towards you, “…she’s not going anywhere.” The two burly men followed her, closing the door behind them, leaving you alone. But Taehyung knew they would be back soon.

“What does she want?” you turned to Taehyung the moment the door closed. “Is she going to kill us?”

“I know we just met,” Taehyung cut you off before you could spin out. “But I need you to trust me. I need you to listen to everything I say from here on.”

“I do trust you, Taehyung,” you responded without missing a beat. His gaze darted to your eyes immediately, shocked by how easily those words slipped from your tongue, knowing that trust was something he wasn’t worthy of. “But you heard her. She doesn’t need you. You should leave if she’ll let you.”

“No,” he said firmly, ensuring you received the message without question. “This is my fault. I’m gonna get you out of this.”

“It’s not your…” your retort was interrupted when the door swung open with an industrial squeal.

The two men had returned. The brute, the one who had clocked Taehyung not long ago with his fist, pulled a knife off his waist and headed towards you. Your body tensed, leaning back into the chair as if you would be able to escape him.

“No!” Taehyung called, his heart beginning to pound. “No!” he called again, this time pulling hard at the ties around his wrists, nearly breaking skin as he did.

The man reached you, and with a strong grip pinned your arm still against the chair. He then dug the blade between your wrist and the zip-tie, and with a smooth flick the band snapped in half and fell underwhelmingly to the floor.

Taehyung let out a heavy breath, and he was fairly sure you did to. They were just releasing you from your confines, but he wanted to kick the man’s ass for being so fucking dramatic about it.

Once your second wrist was free, he turned the blade around, pointing the handle in your direction to take it. Rubbing your wrists, you looked back up at him, unsure what he was asking. The man nodded in Taehyung’s direction, and taking the blade, you understood what he was asking.

“Don’t try anything funny,” he said as you knelt before Taehyung and worked away at relieving his wrists of the zip-ties.

As Taehyung watched your trembling hands do so, his mind began to wander and plot. What if he took the knife from you? Could he overpower these brutes? Sink the blade into their necks? Take you by the hand and make a break for the exit? Adrenaline began to course through his veins as he thought about it, his body on edge ready to act the moment the second tie was removed – but, as he looked down at you, the dried blood still staining your face and hair, he realized that if you were both going to make it out in one piece, he would need to take a softer, more rational approach.

Now both released, you handed the knife back to your captor who returned it to its sheath. He then roughly grabbed you behind the elbow and pushed you in the direction of the door before he turned to Taehyung to do the same.

You walked down a long corridor, the floor covered in an aged carpet tile and the walls a large, off-white brick. You were in an office.

Is this…? Taehyung thought to himself until a door opened and you were both pushed out into the sunlight. It was. You were at Stintsons… Ezra’s office to be exact.

“Take this,” someone shoved an old cellphone into your hands. So old it had one of those walkie-talkie features on it. He flicked the dial for channel 04 and you could hear a static beep. “Don’t turn it off. Follow everything we say.” He then ushered you towards a car.

“You’ll drive,” someone slapped a set of keys into Taehyung’s hand and pushed him as well in the direction of the car. “Watch for speed bumps.”

Fuck, Taehyung said under his breath.

He climbed into the driver’s side, with you sitting next to him in the passenger’s seat. His eyes scanned the car quickly for anything that could be of value before checking the mirrors. He could see people climb into an SUV behind you. He looked forward and saw another party doing the same in a truck ahead.

“You’re gonna take Industrial to the 17, then make a right at the second light,” a voice came through the soundwaves.

Taehyung took a long breath through his nose, then closed his eyes as he pressed the clutch and turned the ignition. The engine – to his relief – roared to life without incident. He sure as fuck hoped Mina’s people knew what they were doing.

Before he put the car in first, he looked over to you. He didn’t know yet if he should tell you, but you looked calm – given the circumstance – as you sat next to him in your hoodie, holding the phone in your palm.

“Tuck your hair into your sweater,” Taehyung said. “Then pull your hood all the way up.”

You looked back at him inquisitively, but you did as he asked – brushing the strands off your face and tucking it all into the hood as he pulled the car out into the street.

“Pull it down as much as you can,” he insisted. “And look down the whole time we’re driving. Don’t look up at the CCTVs.” You understood then, he wanted you to hide from the cameras. It seemed counterintuitive, given that you were the ones being held captive, but you said you’d listen.

“How about you?” you inquired, noting he had nothing to protect his identity.

“Check the glove box,” he said, and you did. Finding it empty, but you didn’t stop there. You check the centre console, then stretched into the back, dipping your hands into the seat pockets in search of anything you could use.

“Ah ha!” you exclaimed as you returned to the front with a ballcap brandishing the Stintsons company logo across the front.

He took the cap and popped it onto his head, pulling the beak down as much as he could to hopefully protect his face enough.

“Take the next left,” a voice came through the phone again. Taehyung did as he was asked but noticed the SUV behind him had continued on straight, leaving your tail. You notice the truck you had been following hadn’t taken the left either.

“Why are they just leaving us like this?” you asked.

“There’s a bomb in this car,” he replied.

“What?!” you exclaimed. “How do you know that?”

“Stintson’s is just a front for the Uzo-Tuk.”

“You mean the gang?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung nodded. “They’re more than a gang. They’re a powerful crime ring. Drugs. Money. Weapons. People.”

“You better make that fucking light,” the voice came through the phone again. Taehyung peered up to see the yellow light too many meters ahead of him. But he did as he was asked, hitting the gas and speeding through the intersection. You grabbed the handle above the door, holding on for life and to your breath as the car rushed the intersection.

You made it through, though. An angry screech of a horn and a fuck you from a pedestrian you made it through the light as instructed.

“You think Ezra knew it was a front?” you asked when your stomach had settled from the rush.

“He was supposed to do a job for them, Y/N,” he didn’t mean for his tone to come off as patronizing, but it did. “I think he more than knew.”

“How do you know there’s a bomb?”

“It’s just their M.O. They park a car next to a target and then set it off remotely.”

“Was this what Ezra was supposed to do for them?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s on the next corner. Pull up to the curb as close as you can,” the final instruction came through the phone. “Then walk through the alley across the street and up the hill. Bring the phone.”

“Get out as soon as we park,” Taehyung said as he pulled the car towards the curb. “Keep your head down, take my hand. Don’t run.”

The car had barely reached a halt when you swung the door open. You made your way around the front as Taehyung close the driver’s door behind him. You took his hand as he had asked, kept your face low, and he guided you in a hurried stride across the street and towards the alley. The crumbled road ended in just a few metres, and led to a steep, dusty staircase that led from to a parking lot that elevated above the buildings. Henchmen greeted you when you reached the top, grabbing you roughly and dragging you towards the rest of the group.

Several of them held beers in their hands or a joint in their mouth while they laughed and joshed as if they were at a party. You had stayed glued to Taehyung’s side the best you could. He assumed you, smartly, were trying to stay out of the line of any of their sights. But it didn’t work. Taehyung watched as one of them, he appeared to be the leader, adorning a white tank exposing his sleeves of tattoos, looked over to you next to Taehyung and in an instant he knew he wasn’t going to leave you be.

“Hey, girly,” he called to you. “Come here for a second.”

“Leave her alone, man,” Taehyung groaned, trying to be as non-cholent as possible. But the man didn’t like that. So he walked up to the two of you, adjusting his presence to appear as menacing as he could, and pointing his finger in Taehyung’s face.

“I wasn’t fucking talking to you… MAN,” he said, and Taehyung almost laughed at his pathetic display of macho-ness. “Come here,” he said again to you, but this time grabbing a hold of your wrist and dragging you away. Strong hands grabbed Taehyung from behind, being sure he wouldn’t follow or try something. The tattoo’d man brought you to a spot on the ledge, so you could oversee the buildings below with perfect clarity. “You see that?” he pointed down to the street. “That’s the car you drove, right?” You didn’t answer, but he didn’t need you to answer. Instead, he pulled a phone from his pocket, tapped through the buttons until he handed it to you. “When I say, push the 'call' button.”

“Don’t fucking do it, man,” Taehyung called out. “Don’t make her do it!” How fucking cruel could these people be? Taehyung could see your expression change as you realized what was happening. You weren’t being asked to call someone – he wanted you to set off the bomb.”

“No. No, no, no,” you refuted as you pushed the phone away from you. “No, please. I can’t do that.”

“C’mon, baby. You can,” he patronized you with a disgustingly flirtatious tone. Taehyung jerked, trying to get a heavy hand off his shoulder.

“She’s not apart of this!” Taehyung called out again. “Just leave her out of it!” The hands holding him tightened their grip and he tried again to shake them off, but it only earned him a solid punch to the gut, leaving him breathless and kiltered over.

“Don’t!” you screamed when another one kicked Taehyung hard in the ribs, and you too tried to break away to come to his side, but the man had you held tightly. You turned and spat in his face. It was instinctive. You didn’t even realize you’d done it until it was too late. You didn’t have the time to consider how reckless it was, but before you could even think of what to do next a heavy hand clapped hard across your jaw, knocking you flat onto the earth.

“Fuck you!” Taehyung spat as he swung and arm trying to injure anyone near him.

Then… he heard a click, and his heart stopped.

He looked back. You were still on the ground. Mr. Tattoos standing above you, his arm stretched forward, in his hand a silver gun, arrogance lining his features, and rage making his veins visibly pop even under their array of ink. He wasn’t pointing the gun at you though. He was pointing it at Taehyung.

Everyone at the scene froze. It felt like someone had hit the pause button on a movie. It was possible at that moment that oxygen was no longer a human requirement, since no one on scene was taking any in.

“Stand up,” tattoos spoke, his command directed at you. Taehyung watched as your gaze followed from the gun to the place it was pointed, and when you saw it was pointed at Taehyung, when you realized that if you didn’t behave then something terrible was going to happen, you pulled yourself from the ground.

Taehyung wanted to call out again, but the stakes were too high now. But it hurt him to think about what this was going to do to you. Hurt him more knowing he could have been the one to keep you from this.

“Take this,” the man said as he handed you back the phone. “And when I say… you fucking push the button. Or else, your boyfriend here is dead.”

You looked back at Taehyung one last time. Your eyes filled with terror, and already filled with guilt and grief. Taehyung could tell you were asking him if it was alright. He nodded solemnly, although he didn’t know what your decision was going to be. Him? Or those innocent people, down there, on the street.

“Okay,” said tattoos. “Push it.”

[brooklyn-1918]

On A Farm

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: On a farm in Western Pennsylvania, You and Steve grew up. When his mother passed, he took off for Brooklyn. When he returns, you both have some patching up to do. 

Warnings: Some mild swearing (like one word, I think), uuuuh, Steve is a bit of a dumb ass? There’s not much to this story. 

A/N: I know I said I was going to work on the next part of Desert Rose, but I got sidetracked. What a surprise. So this is for @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ ‘s 1000 follower challenge. The farm that I used for inspiration is here. Prompts are in bold. 

At five years old, Steve’s mother brought him to Pennsylvania, where she settled them on a run down old farm. The paint peeled, the windows rattled. It was scorchingly hot in the summer, and bitterly cold in the winter.

He desperately missed the streets of Brooklyn where he was born, however little he might remember it. He missed the cobble streets as he walked down the long dirt drive, he missed the tattered walls as he helped his mother scrape paint. 

The only thing that helped him keep his head straight was you. Little you, who would run back and forth with him in the fields… That is, until he had to stop and sit to catch his breath. You, who would climb the tall pines that grew around the old barn with him. You, who would hide in the woods and jump out to scare him. 

The years progressed, you both grew. When you were both 17, you planted a kiss to his cheek, pushing yourself up on your toes to reach him, as you had both grown exponentially from when you first met. 

Then, that winter, his mother was struck with tuberculosis. 

You tried to console him, to lure him away from his mother’s side, to eat something and get some rest. But to your dismay, nothing you said or did made him move. 

After she was gone, he packed his bag with a weak apology and left back for Brooklyn. 

You stood in the middle of the dirt road, a tear rolling down your cheek as he climbed into the back of a truck, bag slung over his shoulder. He looked up just enough to see you, but dropped his head quickly. 

The truck started and you stared after him as he got smaller and smaller. And all you could do was stand there, broken hearted, as he left. 

__________

It had been close to a decade by the time you saw him again. The depression was over, and a war had been fought and won. 

The sun broke through the branches of the pine trees leading up the drive to the Rogers farm, the dirt and gravel crunching under your feet as you progressed forward. Toolbox swinging from your hand, you stopped under the windowsill to the large bay window in the living room. 

Dropping the metal container to the grass, you gripped the wooden shutter with both hands and gave it a twist, positioning it back into its original spot. 

You had noticed the broken shutter from your own window. It had been blown sideways in the windstorm the week prior. Nodding to yourself, you grabbed your tools and moved to the front door. 

For nine and a half years, you had taken care of this farm. Fixing it in just the way that Sarah Rogers would have, once upon a time. There was no evidence that Steve had ever decided to sell it, and certainly no one had shown up to claim it. 

So you took it upon yourself to keep the place in order. 

Climbing the stairs, you stopped in the upstairs hall, carpet sending up puffs of dust with each step you took. Grabbing the broom that you left there, you jabbed once at the ceiling, and knocked open the panel that concealed the ladder to the attic. 

“Alright, let’s see the damage,” You murmur to yourself, before clamping the handle of your toolbox between your teeth, and climbing the rickety old ladder. It shook violently with your weight, but held as you hoisted yourself into the musty space. 

“Ah, there you are!” You exclaim, moving over to the drip of water coming from the hole in the ceiling, about the size of a baseball. 

It took an hour to fix, sweat dripping down the nape of your neck, staining your shirt collar. When you were done, you slid down the ladder, shut the trap door, and descended the stairs, swinging left as you stepped off the last stair into the kitchen. 

The tap squeaked as you turned on the water, as did the floorboards behind you, but you didn’t notice. You set down your box on the counter, the metal clatter covering the clicks behind you. 

“Hands up, and turn around,” A voice commanded behind you, deep and gruff. Startled, you let out a yelp, and threw your hands up. A shudder ran through your spine, and you turned slowly on your heel to face down the barrel of a rifle, pointed directly at your nose. 

Your sight shifted to the man holding the gun. His face set into a scowl, blond hair dirty and falling into his eyes. His jaw was set with stubble, muscle twitching as he ground his teeth together. 

He wore a military uniform. Not a dress uniform, but nothing casual. A duffel bag was laying on the floor by the side door, a rank insignia stitched onto the side. 

“Who are you, and why the hell are you in my house?” He growled, refusing to drop the rifle. You blinked once, twice, then three times. “Your house? Who are you?” You fire back. Your question seemed silly as you continued to examine him. It seemed silly as you looked into the eyes of the boy that you spent your childhood with. 

“I--”

“Steve?” You interrupted. The man faltered, lifting his head and letting the muzzle of the gun drop down. His jaw hung open, and he watched you for a moment. 

“Y/N? Steve dropped the gun fully, and with a few quick hand motions, rendered it ineffective. Before he had a chance to set it on the worn table, you rushed him, pushing yourself up onto your toes to wrap your arms tightly around his neck. 

You laughed brightly as he leaned back, lifting you off the floor. His chest vibrated warmly as he laughed as well, then settled you back on the floor. “What are you doing here?” He asked, stepping away from you. Placing his hands, warm and calloused, over your shoulders, he pushed himself back so he could examine you for a fleeting moment. 

“I was going to ask you the same thing!” You exclaim, running your fingers over the top of your head in astonishment. He flicked his gaze to the duffle, but turned back swiftly to you. 

“Well, I-- It’s hard to explain,” He started, “But really, what are you doing in my house?” 

You froze, momentarily bashful as you glanced at the dirty floor. You were gonna clean that today, too. Looking back up to him, you gave a wobbly smile and a shrug. 

“You’ve been gone for a while. And someone needed to take care of this place,” You remark. Now it was Steve’s turn to flush. That Irish blush that worked its way from the tips of his ears, tinting down his neck, and disappearing below the collar of his shirt. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, huh?” He noted, nodding his head and slipping a hand to rest at the back of his neck. You bobbed your head in agreement, glancing down again. 

Silence settles between the two of you. A strained tension filled the room, settling deep in your bones. You hated the feeling. It made you want to run. You could be out of the kitchen, and through the creaky screen door in seconds. Out of the house, and away from him. 

Because god damn it he broke your heart when he left all those years ago. And you never wanted to feel that pain again. 

You didn’t want to run. But that’s exactly what you did. 

“Well, I should leave you to get settled,” You said softly, turning on your heel to grab your tools. 

You could hear shifting behind you, and as you faced him once more, he was standing straight, stiff. “Right. It’s good to see you again, Y/N. Really good.” He smiled, a twinge of sadness criss crossing his features. You force a smile, and walk past him, pausing briefly to gently squeeze his shoulder. 

You continued to the door, but stopped next to the green duffle. Nudging it with the toe of your boot, you could see the insignia better. Captain. 

“If you enlisted, you just proved yourself to be the reckless idiot that I always said you were,” You chuckle, slipping into the old banter that you both had, so long ago. It seemed strangely familiar, a long dormant part of you that suddenly was awake. 

Steve laughed behind you, softly. 

“Well, I proved it,” He confirmed. You looked up to him, and pursed your lips in a frown. He gave you a tired grin, and you shook your head in exasperation. 

Another moment of silence, and you turned and left.

__________

You aren't sure what woke you. But you were decidedly awake at a time when you really didn’t want to be. You dropped your head back to your pillow with a groan when it happened again. This is what you were sure had woken you up. 

A shout, muffled by walls and a few hundred feet, drifted through the window you had left popped open. You sat bolt upright, the blankets falling down around your hips, and turned your body so you could see Steve’s house. A light blinked on across the way, cutting through the darkness, and you swung your legs out of your warm spot. 

Grabbing your slippers, and flashlight, you bounded out your front door, and across the dirt road. 

“Steve!” You called as you made it to the screen door you had left out of only a few hours ago. You could see the yellow glow of the kitchen light through the glass panels of the side door, so you quickly transgressed the screened in porch to open it. 

“Steve,” You tried again, softly this time. The only acknowledgement that he gave was the slight inclination of his head, which dipped down towards the table as he sat there. 

Shirtless.

In the freezing kitchen. 

Because of course that made sense. You inched forward, hand hovering over his back. You sucked in a breath, and placed your fingers down, rubbing in soft circles. 

A sheen of sweat coated him, the roots of his hair darkened with it. He shook, just a small tremor, but it was there. 

Pulling a chair over, you noticed the pair of dog tags laying in the middle of the table, framed by the flaking green paint. His own, and another set of an unfamiliar man. 

“James B Barnes,” You mouth to yourself. Dropping into the creaking chair, you swing around so your knees point to him, and lean toward him. “Steve, what’s going on?” You wait a moment without him speaking. “Steve, c’mon, you’re scaring me. Please talk to me?” 

He still doesn't speak, so you take your fingers, and place them under his chin, his stubble prickleing at them. You maneuvered Steve’s jaw so he looked at you. 

His eyes were watery and so insanely blue. It almost made you gasp, if you weren't so concerned. 

Dread gripped your belly, an iron grasp that refused to let go. 

So neither did you. You stroked your thumb over the prickles, and leaned forward to wrap your arm around his broad shoulders. Closing your eyes, forehead leaning against the bare bulk of his shoulder, you nearly jumped when you felt his warm hand wrap around yours. Another shudder ran through him, jostling you, prompting you to pick your head back up. 

“Steve, I need you to tell me what's wrong.”

He remained silent. With a sigh, you stand, then pause momentarily, watching as his head falls back down. Once again scooping the flashlight up, you turned to go. 

A gasp ripped its way from your throat as Steve locked his hand around your wrist again. He still hasn't picked up his head, but his arm, stronger than the last time you saw him, was reached out to you. Your gaze drops to his fingers, decorated in scars, then up to his face, where you can see tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

You dropped back into the seat. 

__________

For weeks, the two of you did a sort of dance. He would say nothing of the nine years that he was gone. You tiptoed your way around your heart. 

It just wasn’t the same as how it had been for so long. You had both changed. A sigh, probably the thousandth that week, escaped you. Steve looked over to you, brow raised. With one final shove, he pushed the new board into place, patching the hole in the side of the dilapidated barn. 

“I think I’ve heard you sigh more than I’ve heard you actually speak. What’s goin’ on?” He questions. You turn your head, then push yourself off of the barn wall, clutching the toolbox tightly. 

“Nothing,” You lie. A clap of thunder in the distance sounds, and it seems as though mother nature is calling you out on your lie. Steve stands to his full height, a doubtful look on his face. 

“Really?” He chuckles. Another crash of thunder sounds. Closer. Followed by a flash of lightning. 

“Yes, really. I’m fine,” You reinforce. 

He nods, takes the box of tools from you, and places his hand over your shoulder to guide you gently back to the house, just as the rain begins to fall. 

“It took me a long time to figure out when you lie,” Steve raises his voice to be heard over the near downpour. “And right now, you’re doing a real bad job of trying to fool me.” 

You huff, and cover your head with your arms to keep the cold drops from landing in your eyes. Failing at your makeshift umbrella, you huff and drop your arms as you both splash through the mud puddles. 

“Well, Steve, that was a long time ago,” You say, somewhat harshly. Behind you, you can hear his steps falter slightly, to your slight satisfaction. “Right,” He mutters, just as you both reach the screen porch door. You yank it open, harder than you hoped. It squeals in protest, nearly coming off its hinges. 

Dropping into one of the kitchen chairs, you peel your boots off, then move to the sink to strip your jacket off, sopping wet and clinging to you. You drop it in, and turn to face Steve. 

“What happened?” You ask, shaking your head and throwing your hands out to the side. 

Steve freezes, halfway between placing the tools down, and with a look of shocked confusion on his face. 

“What do you mean? Am I missing something?” He asks, a slight waiver in his voice. Slowly, he places the metal box down, and snags the dish towel. 

“Yes! I mean no! I don’t know! Maybe we're both missing something, because damn it Steve, something happened!” You burst out. Steve freezes, confusion washing over him in waves. 

You growl in frustration, and snatch your jacket back, twisting it to wring the water from it. It splashed down into the iron bowl, a crescendo of taps. 

Whipping it out, you glare at him. 

“You have been gone for almost ten years! And you come back like nothing has happened. Like no time has passed at all!” You march up to him, and jab a finger at his chest. He takes a step back, eyes wide and brow raised. 

“Y/N, I know that--”

“No, I don’t think you do! You come back, and you won't even tell me anything! You not only keep yourself up at night, but you keep me up! I’m sick with worry every time I hear you yell, and you won’t let me help!” You yell, hot tears pooling in your eyes. Steve falls silent, just staring at you, waiting to see what you would say next. 

You don’t continue, however, as you wait for his explanation. Or excuse. Or something. 

Nothing. 

You almost growl, and let the first of a cascade of tears race down your cheeks. 

“You left! You left me standing in the middle of the street! I was there and my heart was breaking. I realize that you had just lost your mother, but you could have stayed!” 

The man in front of you takes a step back. His features steel and he moves forward again. 

“How would I have been able to stay here? Huh? How could I stay here when I failed her?” He asks, pain radiating from his voice. 

“Failed her?” You fire back. “Steve, she got tuberculosis, there was nothing you could have done and you know it!” 

He visibly deflates. More salty tears make their way down your cheeks and you poke his shoulder again. 

He shakes his head, his own eyes welling in sorrow. 

“You had people here that loved you. I loved you, Steve Rogers. And you walked away to a place where you had no one in your corner,” You finish your tirade, voice dropping lower and lower as you take a step back.

Waiting for a minute for his answer, you nod. Turning, you grab your shoes, and march out the door, and into the storm, not caring that your socks were now wet and mud stained. You cry openly. Sobs muffled by the crash of the thunder. 

Another crash, and it might be thunder, but it also might be the screen door, so you glance over your shoulder. You walk faster as you see Steve running through the rain towards you. His fingers brush against your elbow, and you jerk away. He tries again, and this time is able to twist you around. “I love you! I love you, okay? There, you got me to say it. Happy?” Steve shouts over the rain. You glare at him, but soften as you realize the sincerity in his words. You can see it written all across his face. In the way that he cries too. 

“No,” Your voice waivers. “I’m not.” 

“Then give me a chance to prove it to you.”

__________

Months crawl by. Fast, but still slow. 

All that built up trust and friendship, the hidden love, comes crawling back to the both of you. 

You sit under the pine tree that grows along the drive, the autumn sun shining down, fingers twined together. You rest your head on Steve’s shoulder, staring at one of the feral kittens that have come to inhabit his farm over the last few weeks. 

Soft breathing, in and out, jostling your head slightly. 

“Thank you.” You hear Steve, and pick your head up to look at him. You furrow your brow, and lift your hand to brush the hair from his eyes. 

“For what?” 

“For giving me a chance,” He replies. You smile at him, and drop a kiss onto his shoulder. He presses one to the top of your head. 

When you look up again, he grins. Wide and toothy, just like the ones he would show you as you climbed the pine tree you now both sat under some fifteen years ago. 

“What?” You laugh. “I really want to kiss you right now. May I?” 

“I’m going to be mad if you don’t.” With his own laugh, he moves to cup your cheek. With a glint in his eye, he presses a soft kiss to your lips. Pulling back, he presses down another, and another. 

And as the light of dusk slips behind the far hills on the other side of the field of hay, turning the sky purple, you both remain curled together. Lips locked, hearts swollen with love. 

The sky darkens, and as the stars appear, everything is calm.

Permanent Tag List:  @wildefire​

[snelbz]

The Ranch {19}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz​ x @tacmc​

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

Nesta stood in the paint department and looked at the wall of samples in front of her. She wanted something light, but something that stood out, too. She didn’t want anything like her father had chosen back in the nineties and-.

She shook her head, trying to free her head of the deja vu that washed over her and chuckling quietly. She had been here before, had done this before. Things were just...a little different this time.

As if she wanted to remind her mother of this fact, Nesta felt a sharp pain against her ribs and she inhaled sharply through her teeth. Beau looked up at her, brown eyes wide. He hadn’t left her side since the beginning of her third trimester and Nesta had learned to love the constant, comforting presence.

“Your sister is using my ribs as a punching bag,” she told him, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t understand her. He opened his mouth in what Nesta swore was a smile and his tongue hung to the side.

He always smiled when they talked about the baby.

Nesta was floored as she realized how different her life had become in twelve months. A year ago, she’d been deciding whether or not she should give up everything she’d ever wanted, to move home and run her father’s crumbling dream of a bed and breakfast. Now she was about to have a baby, her perfect, little girl, and she was going to marry the man of her dreams, the man who gave her the gift she never thought possible.

“Nesta?”

She froze, recalling how someone had called her name the last time she’d been here, who it had been when she turned. But it wasn’t Tomas, just Azriel standing in his old, torn jeans and black hoodie. Out of all of them, it was Azriel who looked the least the part of a rancher, but he sure as hell knew what he was doing.

“Cass said you were running into town, but this was the last place I thought I’d see you,” Azriel said, when Nesta said nothing. 

Nesta, collecting her thoughts, gestured to the wall of paint samples. “Nursery color.”

“Ah,” Azriel said, huffing a laugh as he stopped next to her and looked at the wall. Beau brushed up against his leg, and he gave the pup a loving scratch behind the ears. “What about purple?”

Nesta frowned, looking at the endless samples of purple. She had gone over the lavender hues ten times already. “Too predictable. Pink, too. I’ve ruled them both out.”

Azriel chuckled. “Fair enough. Cass wants to paint it green.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. She had to admit that she had her eye on a neutral olive color, but it didn’t seem right, it wasn't special enough.  “So I’ve been told. I told him no, though.”

It was true. In fact, the night before they’d had a heated debate over what color the nursery would be. It ended in them making love on the nursery’s carpet, but that was irrelevant. 

“How about blue?” Azriel suggested, picking up a few different swatches. “There are a ton of different shades of blue, surely there’s one you two can agree on.”

It was her favorite color, but it limited her decorating choices. Both the camouflage and rodeo nursery ideas were nixed last night as well, and Cassian was still pouting about it.

“I’ve been leaning towards a softer yellow or orange.” She lifted a buttery yellow card from its slot. It was too bright, too rich. She added it to the stack, knowing it may look different away from the fluorescent lights. “Like the sunrise. First light.”

Azriel was nodding. “Why don’t you ask Feyre to paint the sunrise?”

Nesta was going to blame her stupidity on pregnancy brain as her eyes went wide and she said, “I hadn’t even thought of that. She’d love that.”

Azriel just smiled, softly. “Feyre would be honored, if you asked her.”

Nesta nodded, slowly, then picked out a couple different shades of yellows and oranges. “Since you’re here, please take me to get some tacos. I’ll buy. Might even bring some home to Cass, if he’s been good this morning.” Azriel’s grin widened as they began walking toward the exit. “A little cranky, I must say, but I think that’s just because he’s hungover.”

Nesta snorted. After their fight over paints, he’d indulged himself - one beer too many, perhaps. “It doesn’t take much to be hungover when you wake up at five a.m.”

“True,” Azriel agreed. “I could do tacos, though.”

“Good,” Nesta said, putting the paint swatches into her purse as she and Azriel walked out onto the sidewalk, Beau close behind. 

It wasn’t until they were down the street at a taco vendor’s food truck that Nesta asked, “So, when the hell are you going to ask my sister to marry you?”

The bite he’d been in the process of taking nearly came back out. Nesta didn’t even flinch. She’d spent so much time throwing up in the past eight months that partially chewed food didn’t even phase her. She blinked and waited for him to collect himself before he took a drink of the Corona in his hand.

“You just go straight for the balls, don’t you?” He laughed.

She raised her eyebrows. “Have you met my fiancé?”

“Fair enough,” he laughed, but he sighed. “You want the honest truth?”

Nesta suddenly realized she wasn’t sure. She was meddling and the only person who hated meddling more than she did was Elain. But she nodded.

Az took a deep breath and said, “I’ve had the ring for almost six months.”

“What?” Nesta’s eyes must have nearly bulged out of her head, because Az backed up a step. “And why exactly haven’t you proposed?”

His smile was soft but proud, as he said, “I don’t want to take this time from you, or from Cassian. You’re having a baby. Like, Nesta, you’re growing a literal human inside of yourself.” He chuckled and smiled fondly. “Did you know that even when we were in high school all Cass wanted from life was to rope and have a family. You’re giving him one of those things and I can’t ever thank you for making my brother so happy. And I don’t want to take that spotlight from y’all. I want you to have your moment, so that when the time comes, Elain can have hers.”

Nesta hated Azriel for making her cry over her taco, and yet, tears were sliding down her cheeks as she set her taco back down onto her plate and observed him. Eventually, she cleared her throat and said, “Elain is a lucky woman.”

Azriel just shook his head as he took another bite. “That woman deserves the world. If anyone’s lucky, it’s me.”

Nesta found herself completely overwhelmed. A year ago, she hadn’t believed love existed, but now? Her and Cassian, Elain and Azriel, Feyre and Rhysand...this type of love was rare, Nesta was sure of it, but somehow they all ended up in a fairytale romance. Her sisters were happy, she was happy...it was perfect. 

“Don’t tell your sister that I made you cry,” Azriel went on, shoving the last of his taco into his mouth. “She’ll kick my ass. She’s scary when she wants to be.”

She shook her head, dabbing at her eyes with a scratchy napkin. “She’ll understand when you knock her up. I cried yesterday during a Christmas commercial.” Azriel waited, knowing that was somewhat common. “A commercial for cattle feed.”

He nodded. “I believe you. Doesn’t change the fact that your sister will punch me in the dick if she finds out I was the cause of your tears.”

They both laughed and Nesta smiled. “Thank you for making her so happy.”

Az gave her that full smile that so many rarely saw. “It’s my pleasure.”

Nesta finished her tacos and ordered some for Cassian for the road. “Word of advice,” she said, getting into her car. Beau already patiently sat in the passenger seat. “Don’t ask her on a holiday. Girls don’t want to share their special day.”

Azriel’s eyebrows raised. “I...hadn’t thought of that.”

Nesta chuckled. “You were going to propose on New Years, weren’t you?”

He nodded once. “Yes, I was.”

She laughed, full and bright, and said, “How about this? You tell me when it’s time, I’ll plan a family dinner and voila, you’ve got yourself a fiancée.”

“Really?” Azriel asked, stopping in front of the driver’s side of the truck’s door.

“Of course,” Nesta said, crossing her arms, the bag of Cassian’s food hanging on her arm. 

“Thank you,” he said, and she knew by the look in his eyes that he meant it.

Although they were going to the same place, they said their goodbyes and Nesta drove home, slowly. By the time she made it back home to the ranch with her paint swatches, Cassian was mowing the lawn. He was shirtless, of course, and was chugging a bottle of water as he rode the lawn mower across the grass. As Nesta pulled into the driveway, he was waving and putting it in park. 

He was covered in sweat, but Nesta still didn’t stop him as he pressed his lips to the side of her head. “The grass was long.”

Nesta nodded. She had wanted to ask him to mow, considering she was too pregnant to do so, but hadn’t wanted to interrupt his daily plans. “I brought you tacos.” 

“Mmm, that’s exactly why I’m marrying you,” he said, pulling her onto his sweaty lap and opening the box in her hands.

She squirmed out of his arms, as best as she could at eight and a half months pregnant and said, “I’m going to go hang the swatches on the wall, come see when you’re done?”

He nodded, shoving an entire taco in his mouth.

She chuckled, but shivered as a brisk wind blew by. “Cass, I know the sun is straight on you, but it’s forty-five degrees out. Don’t you think you should put a shirt on?”

He finished chewing and said, “How else will I keep my tan year round?”

She shook her head and said, “I’ll be inside, call me if you need me. I love you.”

He smiled at her, those hazel eyes sparkling from the joy he felt inside. “I love you too, darlin’.”

She turned and started up the porch steps and heard, “Hey.”

Nesta looked back at him and he asked, the sparkle replaced by his usual mischievous glint, “You got any green swatches in there?”

Nesta rolled her eyes as Azriel pulled the truck in next to her little car. “No.”

She continued up into the house, laughing when she heard Az ask why the hell he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She pulled the swatches out of her purse, including the couple of greens she’d snagged on their way out, along with her phone and she and Beau made their way up to her old room.

The room that she grew up in was the same room her daughter would too.

As she was taping swatches to the room, in various lighting, she called Feyre, putting her phone on speaker.

“Hello?” her sister answered a second later.

“Hey,” Nesta said, looking around the room. “I have a favor to ask.” “Ask away,” Feyre said.

Nesta admired the swatches she had chosen before clearing her throat. “Would you mind...helping me paint the baby’s nursery?”

There was a slight pause, then Feyre’s quiet voice came through, “Of course.”

“I was thinking the sunrise,” Nesta continued, trying not to cry for the tenth time that day. “Bright, cheery, calming.”

“I can do that,” Feyre breathed. “I can come by this weekend?”

“Perfect,” Nesta agreed. There was a few seconds of silence before Nesta said, “Thank you.”

“Anything for my niece,” Feyre said, then added, “And anything for you. And that idiot fiancé of yours.”

Nesta peeked out the window where Cassian was still mowing without his shirt on. He always acted like it was spring, even in the winter. Although their town stayed pretty mild, winter-wise, there was still a little chill in the air. “Idiot he is, but he’s my idiot.”

Feyre chuckled. “Still on for dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Nesta promised. “I’ll see you then.”

They said their goodbyes before Nesta was left alone, in the silence, observing the room around her. Five minutes of planning in her head passed before heavy boots padded up the stairs and Cassian appeared, now wearing a hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. “Can I help with anything?”

She was admiring the colors in the direct sunlight. “You can tell me which of these you like best.”

“Hmm.” He came up behind her, pressing his big hands against her belly. Even as round as she was, even at over eight months pregnant, his hands still covered most of it. But then they slid upwards until he was cupping a breast in each hand. He made a show of weighing them and squeezing them gently, and said, “I don’t know, I think I’m pretty partial to the left one.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing, and pushed away from him, walking towards the wall. “I meant color, baby.”

“Oh, well that’s easy,” he snorted, coming in closer as well.

It turned out that it was, in fact, not easy.

After forty-five minutes of arguing and an almost silent quickie with the door open to make up, they had narrowed it down to New Spring Chick and Frosted Tropical Apricot.

They would let Feyre make the final decision in the morning.

“Don’t you have to get back out there?” Nesta asked.

Cassian shook his head. “For now, Az has it covered, it’s been an easy day. I was thinking you and I could go out to dinner, though.”

Nesta lifted a brow. “Dinner?”

Cassian nodded, then gestured to her belly. “We only have so much more time before baby comes. We should have a date night while we can.”

Nesta watched him for a moment before saying, “Okay, fine. But does this mean I have to get dressed up?”

Cassian grinned. “You could wear fucking sweatpants for all I care, but I’m taking you out.”

She wouldn’t wear sweatpants, but she also didn’t plan on wearing another real pair of pants until after this baby was out of her.

Cassian pressed a soft kiss to her stomach, which he did every chance he took, and left to go take a much needed shower. Nesta got ready, slipping on a pair of comfy black leggings and a baggy sweatshirt. Cass ended up dressing nearly identically, except he did wear sweatpants.

They hopped in the “play truck” and right before they left, Cassian said, “Shit, I’ll be right back.”

Nesta sat straight up, hands forming a protective cage around her stomach. “What? Is everything okay?”

He jogged into the house and came back out a minute later, backpack tossed over his shoulder. Climbing back into the truck, he tossed it in the backseat and put it in reverse.

“What is that?” she asked. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“This,” Cass replied, putting his free hand in Nesta’s and rubbing soothing circles into the back of her hand, “is our emergency bag. It’s got everything we’ll need in it in case you go into labor. Clothes, insurance paperwork, phone chargers, snacks.” He began a smooth back and forth motion. “Diapers, binkies, onesies, little socks and blankets, and everything else our precious girl is going to need.”

She blinked, and hated that tears were, once again, rolling down her cheeks. “You have truly thought of everything, haven’t you?”

Cassian shrugged. “You’re literally growing my child inside of you. As your baby daddy, it’s my job to take as much stress off of you as possible.”

Nesta leaned over the center console and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Thank you.”

He grinned, fully satisfied with himself, as he pulled onto the road and headed into town. They drove to a little Italian restaurant because Nesta had mentioned she could use a plate full of breadsticks. Cassian ordered it to go, though, and hopped back into the truck before driving a mile down the road to the old high school. He parked in the parking lot before hopping out and putting down the truck bed.

“Come on, babe,” he called, already taking the boxes of pasta out of the bag. When Nesta came around, he helped her onto the back of the truck before joining her there, his thigh brushing hers.

She ate her alfredo happily, indeed chowing down on an insane number of breadsticks that Cassian swore he didn’t count.

He was rubbing her feet when she asked, voice quiet, “Are you scared?”

He looked at her, at how she was staring off toward the football field, pretending not to notice him staring at her. “Am I scared of doing something stupid? Yes. Am I scared it’s going to be a lot more than we’re expecting? Yes. Am I scared we’re going to get in over our heads? Yes. Am I scared that there’s about to be a miniature version of you running around? Hell yes.” He turned her face toward his, forcing her to look at him. “But am I scared to be a father? No. Am I scared to meet our daughter? No. Am I scared to do this with you? Absolutely not.”

She whispered, “Quit making me cry.”

But he shook his head, softly. “I love you, Nesta. And yeah, I am scared, but I can’t wait. This little girl already has me wrapped around her finger and she’s not even here yet.”

A tear slid down her cheek that he quickly reached up and brushed away. “Are you scared?”

Nesta took a moment to think about it, but then she sighed. “Yes, and no. It’s complicated.”

Cassian chuckled, in full understanding.

“I’m scared because I don’t know what to expect,” she said, after a minute. “I’m not sure how to handle the not knowing.”

“That’s why we have each other, sweetheart,” he kissed the top of her head. “Come on, let’s get home. I have a shitload of furniture to build tonight.”

The egregiously overpriced infant's bedroom suit that Nesta had seen online had been delivered that afternoon. Cassian couldn’t understand how Nesta could justify spending as much as some people spent on a vehicle on furniture that was just going to get covered in shit and baby barf.

Not to mention that it had been shipped from overseas.

They packed up their trash and got back in the truck, heading for home.

“While I carry all of the boxes upstairs, why don’t you take a nice bath, baby?” He asked. “And then when you’re done, you can read me instructions that I won’t listen to while I figure out how to put it all together.”

Nesta shook her head, unable to stop herself from chuckling. “At least you’re honest.” 

He took her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles. “I am that.”

Nesta had to admit that the thought of a bath sounded incredible, though, so she didn’t argue. Once they got home, Nesta was making her way, slowly, up the porch, inside, and up the stairs while Cassian got to work on gathering the boxed nursery furniture. They had a changing table, a bookshelf, a dresser, and a crib, all of which Nesta had bought from a small French boutique that had always caught her eye in Paris. When Cassian asked why they couldn’t just go into town and buy something that was already assembled, Nesta’s answer was simple: she was getting what she wanted, and she wanted the modern, white, sleek furniture she’d on her walk to work every day.

Cassian didn’t argue. 

While she was soaking in the tub, she could hear Cass moving around in the other room. She’d hear a thump as a box was dropped or something would start dragging across the floor. At one point, she heard a loud bang followed by Son of a bitch!

Nesta laughed quietly to herself and smoothed a hand over her belly, which stuck out of the water by a considerable amount. “Daddy’s getting your room put together, sweet girl, and then we’re ready for you to get here whenever you are.”

She leaned her head back against the cool, porcelain tub, sighing happy. Life had become so crazy lately, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be stressed about it.

Her phone vibrated on the small table by her head and when she leaned up to glance at it, her hand slipped on the slick surface. The table knocked against the tub and Nesta gasped as her phone fell into the water.

“Shit,” she breathed, grabbing it out and tossing it onto a nearby towel. She decided that was the end of her bath and got out drying herself off and getting dressed.

She tried to power her phone back on, knowing she shouldn’t but hoping it hadn’t been in the water long enough to do any damage. The logo popped up in the middle of the screen then it went black and began to make a whirring noise.

“Damn it.” She sighed and made her way downstairs, throwing it in a bag of rice to see if it could be salvaged. Otherwise, it looked like she’d be going into town the next day for a new phone.

Cassian was padding down the stairs a moment later, his brows furrowed. He took one look at Nesta and froze, then looked down at her phone in the bag of rice. “Your phone take a bath, too?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe.” With a deep sigh, she leaned back against the counter. “I’m pissed.”

“Me too,” Cassian mumbled, throwing open the fridge and grabbing two beers. “I’ve decided that I hate France. Or at least French furniture. Fuck France and their fancy furniture.”

Nesta snorted and came up behind him, attempting to wrap her arms around his waist, but over her giant bump, she hardly managed to reach around his sides.

Cassian's body shook with silent laughter as he turned to face her. “Bump in the way?” He asked, before setting one of his beer cans on the top of it, which only made Nesta roll her eyes.

“It’s not a table,” she laughed. 

“Seems pretty convenient to me,” he shrugged, popping open a can and chugging it down. He brushed his hand over her bump, and just when he touched, baby girl kicked wildly from inside, which only made Nesta groan. 

“That either means that she loves me, or that she’s telling me to fuck off,” Cassian said, which made Nesta laugh. After he kissed her forehead, then the bump with the wild, little Nazari inside, he said, “Alright, baby mama, come upstairs and watch me struggle.”

She smirked and headed for the stairs as he tossed the empty can in the trash, opened the second and grabbed a third to take upstairs. “I already do that on the daily. What’s so different about building furniture?”

She heard him mimic her words in a mocking tone and she laughed as she topped the stairs and made her way into the nursery.

It looked like a styrofoam factory exploded. There were pieces everywhere and screws littering the little catch-all tray he pulled from his tool box. She sighed, realizing it was going to be a long night.

But when she looked out the window, into the starry, cloudless night, and screamed Cassian’s name, she forgot all about furniture and messy packing materials. She forgot all about her phone lying useless on the kitchen counter. She even, for a moment, forgot her own name.

Because the stables were catching on fire.

Cassian was instantly behind her, his eyes wide as he swore violently. “Stay here,” he ordered, and then he was gone, pulling out his phone on the way out the nursery door. 

Nesta could only stare in horror as Cassian's dark figure, only outlined by the light of the moon, sprinted down the path that led to the stables.

It was quickly going up in flames, all consuming, raging flames. Nesta didn’t understand how it could have happened.

Only moments ago, she had been down in the kitchen and the stables were fine.

Then, the thought that had her heart stopping entered her mind. It hadn’t been an accident, couldn’t have been an accident, but that didn’t make any sense. 

A slow panic crept into the pit of her stomach, she was breathing heavier, her heart beating wildly as she sobbed, holding onto her bump, the only thing that allowed her to keep her sanity.

Nesta remembered that Az had told her he’d put the horses in the pasture this morning, since it wasn’t supposed to rain, and she was thankful to whatever god whispered in his ear and told him to do so.

She needed to call someone, needed to get the fire department here. Needed to call her sisters, to call Az. Without thinking, she turned and ran from the room, carefully making her way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Her phone wasn’t on the counter where she’d left it and she frantically looked around the kitchen. 

She plunged into near darkness as the lights went out and a frightened scream burst from Nesta, followed by a sob.

She needed Cassian.

She screamed his name, her voice full of shaking terror as she reached around, trying to find something to hold onto. Eventually, her hands found the edge of the counter and she told herself to breath, in and out. Stress wasn’t good for the baby, panic wasn’t good for the baby.

But she couldn’t help it, and as if the infant in her womb knew that something horrible was happening, she kicked wildly.

Nesta felt the need to puke but she couldn’t move, not in the darkness, not as far from the city as they were. Even as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she couldn’t see through the endless tears.

She tried one more time to scream Cassian’s name, but her voice came out broken, terrified, and it was no use, he was too far away.

She thought she heard a door open and close across the house and she froze. Her voice cracked as she called, “Cass?”

There was no answer.

Something was wrong, something was very, very wrong. She held onto the counter as she quickly ran for the back door - only to find that it was jammed shut, a two-by-four under the doorknob preventing it from opening.

She began to hyperventilate as she realized that this, all of this, was deliberate. The fire still blazed outside, and Nesta heard a creak from the old, wood flooring in the other room. Her blood chilled as she realized that she wasn’t alone in the house.

She ran for the front door, finding it stuck shut as well. “Please, please, please!” She sobbed, pulling on the door as hard as she could. There were unmistakably footsteps from the dining room and she cried, “Please, I’m pregnant, please.”

She hurried back to the kitchen as quietly as she could and silently opened a drawer, pulling out a large knife. She held it out, blindly as she took shuddering breaths.

Then he appeared, in the doorway, wearing a dark hoodie, the hood pulled up. He was tall, his shoulders broad, but slim.

She knew who it was.

She would be foolish to convince herself it wasn’t him. He hadn’t gotten what he wanted from her, had stalked her for months without saying a word. He didn’t come any closer.

Nesta did not lower her knife.

She tried to convince herself to look unafraid, to sound calm, but she couldn’t help the tears that continued to stream down her face.

Inside of her womb, the infant became utterly still.

Nesta swallowed and lifted her chin. “Leave,” she ordered, the demand echoing in the silence. “Or I will kill you, and I will not hesitate.”

Even as she said the words, she wasn’t convinced they were true.

Cassian couldn’t breathe. There was smoke in his eyes, it was unbearably hot, and he couldn’t stop coughing, but then he was out in the fresh night air, his back hitting the soft grass.

He knew that Az had led the horses out before he left today, had watched him take them out one by one, but he had to make sure. He had to verify that there wasn’t one down somewhere.

He found nothing, not a horse or person inside.

Except the overwhelming smell of gasoline.

This fire wasn’t natural, it was intentional. This fire was set.

He’d called Azriel before his feet had hit the landing of the stairs telling him what was happening and asking him to call the fire department. He didn’t know what else to do. It’s not like he could turn on the garden hose and put it out. With as much accelerant was used, it would burn all night.

He knew exactly who it was, he didn’t try to delude himself into anything else.

A truck door slammed and Feyre and Rhys were running toward him.

“What happened?” He asked, helping him stand. Cassian saw that his arm was covered in soot. “I have no idea. We were building baby furniture and the barn was fine, came down to the kitchen so I could grab a beer, and when Nes got back upstairs it was in a blaze.” He coughed, but continued, “Smells like a damn Mapco in there, there was so much gasoline dumped.”

“Gasoline?” Feyre asked, covering her mouth in horror.

Cassian nodded. “Tomas did this.”

Rhysand stilled as Feyre’s face paled.

“I have to go to Nesta,” she breathed, backing away from the fire, even though she wasn’t close to it. She glanced back at the dark. “Is she down at the cabin?”

Cassian’s face fell as he glanced up at the big house, then, he was sprinting.

If Tomas had done this, which Cassian was sure he did, he would still be close. He ran without stopping, without a breath, until he was up the back porch. The door was wide open, a piece of wood sitting off to the side.

Cassian was inside of the kitchen before he screamed, “Nesta?!”

There was no reply in the dark house, no movement or creak or whisper. He frantically flicked the light switch, nothing happening.

“What’s going on?” Feyre called, catching up and coming up the stairs.

Cassian opened his mouth to reply, but there was a banging from the front of the house. “Nesta?!”

He was running through the dark house immediately, finding Azriel and Elain on the other side of the front door. It was jammed closed as well. “Move!”

They did as he said and he put all of his weight into the motion as he tried to shove the door open. On the second try, it gave way.

Elain was already crying when she and Az ran in. He said, “Fire department is on the way.”

Cassian was about to say something when Rhysand’s shaking voice called out from the kitchen. “Cass… come here.”

The sound of his voice chilled Cassian’s blood. He hurried back, could see from the glow that either Feyre or Rhys was using their phone’s flashlight function.

He stumbled into the kitchen, nearly tripping over himself and ran to the other side of the island.

He froze.

One of the kitchen knives was missing from its spot in the open drawer, but it laid on the floor, just a few feet away.

There was so much blood.

She was gone. He took her. By taking her, he took them both.

Cassian heaved over the kitchen sink, everything within his stomach emptying out. He knew he was crying, but he didn’t care. He knew he was sobbing, but no one tried to comfort him. Knew no one was sure how.

Nesta was gone. His baby girl was gone. Tomas had taken them. They were gone, the only hunch of where they had gone written on the kitchen floor: a long kitchen knife and a puddle of blood. 

Cassian was ready to set the world on fire.

“I have to find her,” he breathed, he cried, as his face fell into his hands next to the kitchen sink. “I will find her.”

“Cass-.”

“No,” Cassian interrupted Rhysand before he could even say a word. “He’s out there, and he has my fucking fiancée and child!” 

But Rhysand only shook his head. “I know. I’m coming, too.”

“Me too,” Azriel agreed, then looked to Elain, who nodded.

“We'll take care of things around here,” Elain promised. “Go to the police. Now.” 

Cassian was already near the front door, just as a fire truck pulled onto the grounds. 

“I’ll go talk to them,” Feyre said, and kissed Rhysand quickly on the cheek before hurrying out the back door, Elain close behind. 

Cassian was looking around the house as he walked, even though he’d already searched the entirety of it. Rhysand and Azriel were on his heels as they exited through the front door.

Rhysand’s truck had the most room, and they knew letting Cassian drive wasn’t the smartest. The first logical place to go was the Carlson ranch, only to find it deserted. Cassian looked at the window, where he’d hurled the brick back at him.

“Where would they go?” Azriel asked, kicking something aside as they searched through his workshop.

Rhysand’s phone rang and he answered it. A quick conversation took place, and Feyre said the police needed to talk to Cassian.

They loaded back up into the truck and went back to the ranch. The police were there, along with the fire department and an ambulance, and the second Cassian’s feet hit the ground, questions were being asked.

“What happened?”

Cassian replayed the situation, from the second Nesta had noticed the fire blazing up until the point he realized they were missing. 

“You have to find her,” he told the police, after he told his story. “She’s thirty-eight weeks pregnant, nearly ready to go into labor, you have to fucking find her.”

“We will do everything we ca-.”

“Find her!” he yelled, grabbing the cop he’d been talking to by the shoulders. No one reacted, everyone stayed calm, even the cop that was being grabbed.

The young cop simply took a deep breath before saying, “We will look for her, adamantly, starting now.”

Cassian released his shoulders and nodded, and said in a quiet voice. “Thank you, just… I have to get them back.”

He looked over to where the stables once stood. Now it was a smoldering pile of wood and cinders, all that time put in, all those memories. Gone up in a blaze.

They told Cassian he couldn’t stay in their house that night, that they’d be combing through it for any evidence.

He asked a passing officer, “Will you please, please tell me if that’s her blood?”

The dark red hair, the amber eyes. He was a Vanserra, no doubt.

He nodded. “As soon as we know something, we’ll let you know.”

They let Cassian go in, accompanied by Elain, to get what he would need for the next few days. 

Elain did most of the packing, although she cried the whole time. Cassian couldn’t stay focused though, couldn’t concentrate on anything other than her.

All he could think about was Nesta and their baby, where they were, what he was doing to them.

But per the cops request, Cassian went home with Azriel and Elain to wait for further word.

But he didn’t sleep, didn’t rest.

And he wouldn’t until he found them.

Nesta, and his baby girl. 

[kipscorner]

Headernotes:

- THIS IS A LONG POST! - Anything in Parenthesis, feel free to change or remove - Feel free to change pronouns to match - Thank you for reblogging and using! <3

“(Name), can you explain again what we're doing?”

We're kicking off our fun, old-fashioned family Christmas by heading out into the country in the old front-wheel drive sleigh...to embrace the majesty of the winter landscape...and select that most important of Christmas symbols.”

“We're not driving all the way here so you can get one of those stupid ties with the Santa Clauses on it, are we?”

“Some jackass is riding my tail.”

“(Name)! Don't provoke them!”

“Burn some dust here. Eat my rubber.”

“Eat my road grit, liver lips!”

“(Name), stop it! I don't want to spend the holidays dead!”

“Will you just take it easy, (Name)? I'm in complete control.”

“(Name), we're stuck under a truck!”

“Do you think I don't know that?”

“For Christ sake, I didn't do this on purpose!” 

“My toes are numb.”

“I can't feel my leg.”

“(Name), that thing wouldn't fit in our yard.”

“It's not going in our yard, (Name). It's going in our living room.”

“She'll see it later, (Name). Her eyes are frozen.”

“Hey, (Name)! Where do you think you're gonna put a tree that big?”

“You've got a lot of nerve talking to me like that.”

“I wasn't talking to you.”

“It looks great. A little full. A lot of sap.”

“Did I tell you I talked to my mother?”

“They've decided they're coming for Christmas too.”

“You're forgetting how difficult it's gonna be having everybody in the house.”

“(Name), they're family. They're not strangers off the street.”

“Yeah. And about my mother accusing your mother of buying cheap hot dogs. And your mother accusing my mother of waxing her upper lip.”

“I want to have Christmas here in our house. It means a lot to me. All my life I've wanted to have a big family Christmas.”

“The question is, what will you do with that bonus? Gonna blow it on yourself, I hope.”

“Oh, my God, you're putting in a pool.”

“Layman's terms. None of that inside bullshit jargon nobody understands.”

“Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Kiss my ass. Kiss his ass. Kiss your ass.Happy Hanukkah.”

“Wouldn't be the Christmas shopping season if stores were less hooter--Hotter than they are.”

“You have your coat on.”

“There is a nip in the air though.”

“Can I take something out for you?”

“'Tis the season to be merry.”

“Folks! Folks! Folks! Merry Christmas!”

“Look at how big you've gotten!”

“They're not sleeping in my room. I'm gonna go crazy.”

“We're gonna have the best-looking house in town.”

“Come on, unravel these. You have to check every bulb. Got a little knot here. You work on that. I'll get the other box.”

“Would it be indecent to ask the grandparents to stay at a hotel?”

“We're all making sacrifices, (Name).”

“Well, I don't know what to say except it's Christmas and we're all in misery.”

“And why is the carpet all wet, (Name)?”

I don't know, (Name)!”

“I hope nobody I know drives by and sees me standing in the yard, staring at the house in my pajamas.”

“Talk about pissing your money away.”

“Let's get in where it's warm.”

“Now, look, if you need any help...give me a holler. I'll be asleep.”

“Where the hell is that cold coming from?”

“I want to take off these clothes, sit with a glass of wine and kiss your body.”

“Are you out here for a reason, or are you just avoiding the family?”

“Do you honestly think I would check thousands of lights if the extension cord wasn't plugged in?”

“You deserve a home like this to spend Christmas in.”

“You taught me everything I know about exterior illumination.”

“I hope this adds to your enjoyment of the holidays.”

“You got a kiss for me?”

“Better take a rain check on that. (pronouns) got a lip fungus they ain't identified yet.”

“We named him that because he's got this sinus condition.”

“You pet him and he'll love you till the day you die.”

“If I woke up with my head sewn to the carpet, I wouldn't be more surprised then I am right now.”

“After that long drive, we could use a little private time together.”

“(Name), help me get some hot chocolate. It's cold.”

“A little tree water ain't gonna hurt him. Before we left, he drank a half a quart of Pennzoil. Boy, when he lifted his leg the next morning…”

“It's a crying shame the older kids couldn't make it.”

“She's got these big horns growing right out above her ears. Yeah, she's ugly as sin, but a sweet gal. And a hell of a good cook.”

“Can I refill your eggnog? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to nowhere and leave you for dead?”

“Oh, that there? That's an RV.”

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in the middle of an important call. Get me somebody. Anybody. And get me somebody while I wait.”

“We're gonna fly down the hill with this stuff.”

“You know that metal plate in my head? I had to have it replaced because every time (Name) revved up the microwave...I'd piss my pants and forget who I was for a half-hour or so.”

“Nothing like waiting till the last minute, huh?”

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?”

“You shouldn't use that word.”

“I don't think he should be nervous and you shouldn't be either. Because if you're good, Santa knows it. If you believe in him and you believe in your mom and you believe in your...Your dad. If you've been good all year round, Santa is gonna bring you something.”

“Well, I happen to know for a fact that Santa Claus is real. And in the next couple of days… somehow I'm gonna prove it to you.”

“It's good you came to stay with us.”

“I think you'd better go back to bed now.”

“Aren't you having any breakfast?”

“Oh, the silent majesty of a winter's morn. The clean, cool chill of the holiday air.

And an asshole in his bathrobe emptying a chemical toilet into my sewer.”

“It's a sewer. If it fills with gas, I pity the person who lights a match near it.”

“Merry Christmas. Shitter was full!”

“In seven years he couldn't find a job?”

“(Name) and I want to help you give the kids a nice Christmas.”

“This isn't charity. It's family.”

“If you don't tell me what they want, I'll go out and get it on my own.”

“Is your house on fire, (Name)?”

“No, those are Christmas lights.”

“Don't throw me down, (Name).”

“Oh, that was fun. I love riding in cars.”

“Oh, dear. Did I break wind?”

“You shouldn't have brought presents.”

“This box is meowing.”

“(Name)? (pronoun) passed away 30 years ago.”

“They want you to say grace. The blessing!”

“I told you we put it in too early.”

“I heard on the news that a pilot spotted Santa's sled on its way from New York.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, (Name)?”

“If he keeps it up, it will be his last Christmas.”

“Look what you've done to my tree!”

“It was an ugly tree, anyway.”

“I'm sorry if I've been a little short with everyone lately.”

“...I didn't have enough in my account to cover the check.”

“I can't swim, (Name).”

“(Name), that's the gift that keeps on giving the whole year.”

“If this isn't the biggest punch in the face I ever got. Goddamn it!”

“I wanna look him straight in the eye and tell him what a cheap, lying, no good, rotten, four-flushing low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless heartless, fat-assed, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol?”

“He's got that crazed look in his eye.”

“Turn that thing off and get in the house!”

“Aren't you a bit sorry we didn't get a Christmas tree?”

“Well, where you gonna find a tree at this hour on Christmas Eve?”

“Could you just keep it in mind the next time you go berserk?”

“I didn't go berserk. I simply solved a problem.”

“You couldn't hear a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant.”

“I'm gonna catch it in the coat and smack it with the hammer.”

“I'm going in with him.”

“You just march right over there and slug that creep in the face.”

“I can't just attack someone.”

“Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm

holiday emergency here.”

“We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fuckin’ Kaye.”

“And when Santa squeezes his ass down that chimney tonight he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nut house.”

“Worse? How could they get any worse? Take a look around you, (Name). We're at the threshold of hell!”

“You losing your temper with the whole family only makes things worse.”

“Are you gonna recite The Night Before Christmas?”

“No. It's your house. It's your Christmas.”

“You about ready to do some kissing?”

“I'm sorry. This is our family's first kidnapping.”

“I'll be more than happy to take the rap on this.”

“If you wanna come in, you are gonna have to break down the goddamn door!”

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

“I did something I shouldn't have, and these people called me on it.”

“It's Santa Claus!”

“She thinks she sees Santa.”

“No, it's the Christmas star. And that's all that matters tonight. Not bonuses or gifts or turkeys or trees. See, kids...it means something different to everybody. Now I know what it means to me.”

“That ain't the frigging Christmas star. It's a light on the sewage treatment plant.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog Ch. 57-61

This is the “Wizardry” arc. 

I don’t know why it just now occurred to me, but there’s more than a hint of the Joker in the Major’s character.   He’s always grinning, and now we have him dancing on a blimp while enemy helicopters are firing on him.

The Doctor shits a brick over this, because the arrival of the Vatican’s 9th Crusade force is the first serious resistance that Millennium has encountered since they invaded London.   He begs the Major to come back inside and move their airship to safety, but the Major is too preoccupied with dancing like a goofball.   Up to this point, the audience must have been eager to see someone take a poke at the Major.  I know I was, if only to see what sort of powers he had.   I mean, he hasn’t aged a day, but he doesn’t seem to be a vampire, so what’s his deal?

But before we can find out, the helicopter that was about to shoot him gets torn apart by magic wires.   Wait... that sounds like...

DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNNNNN! 

Yeah, Walter’s switched sides.   He’s also younger-looking too, so this must be what Schrodinger was talking about when he told Zorin that the Major and Doctor had a new “toy”.   They were too busy turning him into a vampire to bother punishing Zorin for disobeying orders.   In the previous chapter, the Major asked about using Walter (without mentioning him by name), and the Doc said something about the rushed nature of the job.    Presumably, the Doctor was doing the artificial vampire treatment on Walter all through the night, while Seras and the Wild Geese were defending the mansion. 

What I’ve never been sure of is whether this was a spur-of-the-moment decision, or if Millennium approached Walter a long time ago, and Walter’s been their mole in Hellsing throughout this entire story.   The Major’s line here seems to suggest this was a long-term plan.    “I had already decided half a century ago.   The Death’s Head [the Nazi SS skull insignia] is a fitting match for the Angel of Death [Walter’s old Hellsing codename].”

But that could just mean the Major thought of the idea way back then.   He saw Walter and Alucard wrecking all his stuff in World War II and thought “This kid would be a good recruit someday!” But when did he make the pitch?   Was it last night?    Before the Valentines’ attack?   Before Arthur Hellsing’s death?   Before the end of the war?

I think it’s reasonable to assume that Walter was on board at least before he parted ways with Integra back in Chapter 39.  The Captain suddenly showed up, and he told Integra to take the car and flee, because he wasn’t sure he could defeat the Captain and he didn’t want her around in case he failed.   But it’s much more likely that he only said this to keep her from finding out that he had a rendezvous with the Major, who arrived soon after.   

Now that I think about it, this may be the only reason the Major sent his troops to capture Integra.   He wasn’t particularly concerned about her, but he knew Walter would be with her, and he wanted to get him to the Doctor as quickly as possible.   This may also be why he ordered Zorin Blitz to hold off on attacking the Hellsing mansion.  If Walter had been inside, Zorin wouldn’t have known about his allegiance, and it’s very likely that one might have killed the other.  

Actually, yeah, this is why the Major fired those rockets on the Hellsing mansion in the first place.   If Walter was there, he would know the attack was coming, and use the attack to cover his departure. Then Zorin probably would have been ordered to give him a lift back to the Doctor.  But Walter wasn’t home, and Zorin didn’t wait for orders, and Seras turned out to be much too powerful for her.  

Wow, this is like peeling an onion.  That must be what the Major meant when he chided Zorin for costing him “precious soldiers.”    Her reckless tactics got her and her company killed, but she might have also wrecked his plans to extract Walter, and it’s only a matter of luck that he happened to be at the naval base instead of the mansion. And we know that Zorin knew nothing about Walter, because Schrodinger only hinted about him without mentioning his name.   If Zorin had known, he would have just said “Yeah, we’re turning Walter into a vampire right now, no thanks to you.”

Anyway, Walter’s betrayal fascinates me, but also fuck you, Walter, you traitorous piece of shit.

Speaking of treachery, the 9th Crusaders are busy shooting the shit out of London, killing anything that survived the previous night.    Millennium is a threat, sure, but Maxwell sees this as an opportunity to conquer England for the Catholic church.    I’m not really sure “conquer” is meant literally.   I think it’s more like, Hellsing and the Iscariot Organization have some treaty, and I think that treaty applies to their respective governments as well, but the civilian governments might know nothing about it.    Maybe?  

What I’m saying is that I think this 9th Crusade is supposed to end with the overthrow of the Anglican Church in the United Kingdom, with a new Catholic-leaning regime in its place, so that the Pope would have the same influence over the U.K. that he apparently has over continental Europe.   

In that sense, I’m pretty sure Hellsing’s version of John Paul II didn’t order Maxwell to gun down civilians and shout “Die did die die!” over a loudspeaker.   He may not have been terribly worried about Protestant casualties, but there’s plenty of Catholics living in London, after all.    Maxwell doesn’t seem to care, and I think it’s clear that he’s exceeding his mandate.   

And Alexander Anderson knows it.   I think the whole Catholic contingent in this story knows that Maxwell’s gone too far, but Anderson’s the only one honest enough to say it out loud.    Anderson’s group is still escorting Integra home when the 9th Crusade attacks, and Integra accuses Maxwell of betraying her, but Anderson remarks that such backstabbing is typical in war.    So it’s not Maxwell’s duplicity that offends him, it’s the way he’s going about it.   When Anderson kills people, he’s doing it to serve God, and God alone.   Maxwell’s not serving God at all.

“All you’re serving is his power!!” Anderson says.    By “his” does Anderson mean Satan?  Millennium?  Mars, the god of war?   Maybe all three, or maybe it doesn’t matter.   I always thought Maxwell was serving his own power, but the point is that he’s not doing God’s will by any stretch of the imagination.

But the others still respect the chain of command.  Archbishop Maxwell is in charge of the 9th Crusade and the Iscariot Organization, and Heinkel reminds Anderson that they were ordered to capture Sir Integra, not escort her home.    So they all draw their guns on Integra, resulting in the most Integra panel ever.

Then Seras shows up and beats all their asses.   Yeaaaaahhhhh!   Seras, you’re doing amazing, sweetie!

Everyone’s like “Oh shit, it’s Seras Victoria!” like they’re gonna try to fight her, but Anderson can tell that Seras is now way out of their league.   Remember, this group of Iscariots fought some Millennium troops and half of them were killed.   Seras tore through about as many Milennium troops without much hassle at all, and that was before she drank Pip’s blood.

And Anderson spares some words of praise for his foe.   I guess this is like the owner of a Ford truck exchanging compliments with the owner of a Chevy truck.    “You’re a rat bastard, Chevy man,” he says, “but those are some fine Truck Nutz” you have dangling from your tow hitch.”  They’re never gonna be pals, but real recognizes real.

Also, I just think Seras looks super extra-cool in this moment.  Anderson kind of treated her like a joke before, but now he sees her as a peer.   She looks so dark and haunted now, and at the same time she’s more comfortable and sure of herself than we’ve ever seen her.    Seras never set out to become a vampire, but she’s still found herself on this path.  It’s scary and beautiful at the same time.

But never MIND that SHIT, here comes...

No, not Maxwell, Alucard is returning!  I just used this page because Maxwell’s reaction to the news is more interesting than gloomy images of a ruined carrier drifting up the Thames river.   

There’s a moment in the Hellsing Ultimate anime, right after Seras and Anderson turn to look, where she’s got this big grin on her face, and she goes “I can feel it.   He’s returning.”  It’s not in the manga, maybe because it’s not that important, but I’m a sucker for any Seras content, and I love that moment because she can sense Alucard at a distance now, and it’s a very pleasant experience.   For Seras, I mean.  I suspect it’s actually a very bonechilling, bloodcurdling sensation, but Seras has gone Full Goth, so she digs that sort of thing now.  

I don’t know how the hell Anderson can sense Alucard, though.   Maybe being a Regenerator gave him super smelling powers, like Wolverine.  

And even the Major is pleased, because now we finally have all the major players in the same city.   Not sure why the Captain rates an appearance here, when he never says a word, but we’ll run with it. 

So, up to now, we’ve had these 9th Crusaders lined up against Millennium soldiers, each cosplaying as troops from old wars.  I guess Millennium’s SS uniforms have hint of legitimacy to them, as these guys really were part of the SS back in World War II, before they became vampires.  But the point stands, they’re walking anachronisms and they know it.  

But then Alucard jumps in between them, practically giddy for a chance to participate in this war.   Not to be outdone, Anderson and the Captain perform similar Iron Man landings on the same street.   When I watched the OVA, this was about the point I started to wonder if I had missed something about the Captain, because this story has been hinting that he’s like Millennium’s strongest guy, and somehow on par with Anderson and Alucard, even though he hasn’t said anything or done anything this entire time.   This would be like if Superman and Goku squared off in the middle of London, and then some rando OC from DeviantArt walked up to join them.   Like, we know Al and we know Andy, but who the hell is this dude?   I don’t care if he can hang with these two, they should have established that earlier.

Al asks for orders, and Integra makes this big production out of “Kill everybody with a racist uniform and a funny accent.”   Okay, fine, but this is a lot of bad guys.   How is even Alucard supposed to take them all down?  And this leads us to Control Art Restriction Level Zero.

I’m just gonna cut to the chase, because this post is running long enough already.  Al used “Level 1″ to make short work of Luke Valentine and Rip van Winkle, and maybe Dandyman as well, I’m not sure.   Recall that nothing could stop Alucard on the H.M.S. Eagle.   The Blackbird crash, the Millennium soldiers, Rip’s magic bullets, none of it.   So he activates “Level 0″, which ought to be even more gonzo overpowered, and starts reciting this alchemical poem which I really out to cover in some other post, and all the bad guys panic and start attacking him. 

To all the smartasses who say “Well why don’t the bad guys attack them during the transformation?” there you go.   AGAIN.   This sort of thing happens a lot more than you’d think, and it never works, because anime/manga creators are more self-aware than you’d think.   It never works, because if it did, then it wouldn’t be “attacking a character in mid-transformation”.  It would just be “killing a guy before he could do his big move.”  So when a character does a big climactic thing like this, there’s really only two options.   1) Have the other characters stand back and watch, or 2) have them TRY to stop it, only to fail, because it’s too late for that.

Anyway, I’m skipping all of that and just showing the end result of Alucard’s power-up.   The bad guys tear his body apart, but it doesnt’ matter because that never worked on him before, and then all these undead men crawl out of the black ether that seems to make up Al’s body.   Just a veritable flood of humans, all washing out of him like a tide of death.  

Anderson starts to figure it out when he recognizes some of the uniforms on these creatures.   And if that’s not enough, Integra explains it for Seras.   When vampires drink blood, they absorb the very essence of the living being who contained it.    “To suck blood is to make the whole existence of a life one’s own.” That’s why Zorin saw Pip’s memories when she tried to read Seras’ mind.   By drinking Pip’s blood, Seras has taken on Pip’s soul as well.   But that’s just one guy.   Alucard’s been drinking blood for over 500 years.   And each one he consumes becomes another soul in his personal army.   

I’m going to guess that Alucard didn’t always have the ability to manifest all of his victims as familiars like this.   Otherwise, how in the hell was Abraham van Helsing able to subdue him a century earlier?   The Hellsing family did stuff to enhance and improve Alucard’s powers, so maybe this was one of them.  They gave him the means to weaponize all of his victims’ souls, for use in large scale battles like this one. 

And I think this might be why Seras is trembling in this scene, because she knows that this ability was passed down to her when Alucard turned her into a vampire.   Or maybe, she’s realizing that she’s got something in common with all of those dead people in Al’s army.   Alucard made her a vampire, sure, but he still drank her blood, so doesn’t that mean there’s a Seras Victoria creature down there, standing alongside all the Janissaries, Wallachians, and everyone else Alucard has consumed?

Something I picked up on was that this is what all of those eyes in Alucard’s design are supposed to represent.   When he used Level 1 you’d see all these eyes staring out from the shadows, and now Level 0 has brought out all these dead people, like they’re the ones the eyes belong to.  Although, most of them don’t actually have eyes, just smoke trailing from their eye sockets.   So maybe that’s symbolic as well.  

There’s also horses in this mess, and that makes me wonder if Alucard drank the horses’ blood along with the riders. Anyway, Archbishop Maxwell observes all of this from his Popemobile and finally confronts the elephant in the room: Alucard is Dracula, like the Dracula.  I don’t think it was ever meant to be a secret, but Kouta Hirano’s been dancing around it this whole time, without ever spelling it out, and now he’s finally spelling it out.  

I think the only one who might not know is Seras?   Someone might have filled her in off-panel, or maybe she figured it out, since it’s not exactly hard, but I don’t know.

So yeah, somewhere in this arc, they do a headcount of all three sides of this thing.  Millennium has “572″ soldiers left, and the 9th Crusade has “2875″, while Hellsing, of course, is down to just 3.  But Alucard has more than evened the playing field, since he can do this trick and spawn an invincible army.   I’m more confused how Millennium lost 428 guys in one night.   Seras killed a lot of them, but not that many. Sir Penwood got some and Anderson killed a bunch of them, but not hundreds of them.  The Crusaders could have taken out that many, but they haven’t been here very long.  

But yeah, they try to form a Phalanx to hold off Alucard’s forces, and it does not work at all.    You can’t kill these things because they’re already dead. right?  I mean, maybe the Crusaders have holy weapons that can destroy these things, but there’s just too many of them.    And the Millennium troops don’t even have holy weapons, so they’re completely fucked.

But what about the helicopters?  Well, Alucard drank the blood of Dandyman and Rip Van Winkle too, and their powers are now a part of him, which makes quick work of nearby aircraft.    I like how these two look the same as before, but they never say a word.   I think they’re the only ones with normal eyes, although Alucard’s shadow tentrils are still fused with their bodies.  

The Crusaders’ battle lines are broken, and they beg for Maxwell to order a retreat before they’re all slaughtered.   But Maxwell refuses to give up.  He’s drunk on his new power, and so he can’t accept that he’s been one-upped so easily.   Then the helicopter carrying his Popetruck gets destroyed, and he somehow crashes without getting hurt.

And now he’s got a front-row seat to the same hell his troops are experiencing, but he still gloats, because somehow Alucard’s soldiers can’t get through the glass.    He refers to “tektite” reinforcement, and that’s dumb because Tektites are just an enemy in the Legend of Zelda.   I’m onto your ass, Hirano. 

But then Anderson throws a knife at the glass, and that breaks it, so maybe it was magic glass that only a blessed weapon could pierce?    All that really matters is that Anderson has finally turned on Maxwell, and Maxwell is doomed.

Alucard’s dead warriors hoist him up on pikes, fitting for Vlad the Impaler, and Maxwell realizes that he’s going to die alone in a foreign land.   The moral is: Don’t start none, won’t be none.

Then this happens, and I’m pretty sure Dark Horse Comics goofed when they scanned this manga for the digital edition.  I’d contact them to complain, but they don’t even sell Hellsing anymore because they lost the license years ago.   I don’t think a lot of stuff happened on Pages 62-63 of Volume 8 of the Hellsing manga, but I can’t tell.  I’m guessing just Maxwell finally succumbing to his injuries while Anderson pontificates about why he had to do it to him.   And really, Anderson hardly needs to explain his actions in this case.   Maxwell sucked.

Moving on, Anderson contacts all Vatican forces and tells them to withdraw.   They can’t beat Alucard, Maxwell is dead, and there’s nothing more they can do here.  However, Anderson chooses to stay behind and take on Alucard.  

This is Anderson’s reasoning: By releasing all of Alucard’s stolen lives to fight as his army, Alucard has left his person vulnerable to attack.  So Andy thinks that if he gets close enough to Alucard, he can finally have a chance to defeat him.   If he’s right, this might be his only chance to try.   

Anderson further speculates that this may have been the Major’s plan from the beginning.   Invade London, force Alucard to use this Level 0 ability, all to leave Alucard vulnerable to assassination.   Perhaps the Major was even counting on Anderson to see this opening and take it.  

More to the point, I think Anderson kind of has to fight Alucard because it’s the only way his people can escape London.  Integra’s orders were clear: None of these invaders leaves the island alive.    Alucard would continue hunting down the Crusaders whether they retreat or fight back, so some force has to stay and keep them occupied to save the rest.  

Anyway, now we get to the actual part with this scene, where Alucard kneels before his master and she welcomes him back.   It’s pretty satisfying to see all these butthole soldiers finally get what’s coming to them.   

I’m just gonna put up the entire reunion moment because it’s so sweet.   Interesting how Seras sort of reverts to her old self when Alucard returns.    For all that badass power she gained from drinking Pip, she’s still uneasy around Alucard.   But he missed her and I think that look on his face tells the whole story.    He of all people can tell that Seras has finally taken the fateful step to becoming a “true vampire”. 

I do think it’s kind of interesting how Seras continues to address Alucard as “Master”.   He promised her way back in Volume 1 that she’d no longer be a servant if she drank blood of her own free will, but maybe it’s more complicated than that.    Or, perhaps she still calls him “Master” out of respect, rather than any sort of blood bond or whatever you want to call it.   It’s like how Anakin continued to call Obi-Wan “Master” in “Revenge of the Sith”, even though he had been promoted to Jedi Knight.   The relationship is still there, even if it’s no longer official.  

I’m a big, dumb Seras fanboy, so you’d better believe I think about this sort of thing a lot.   I’m not real crazy about Alucard/Seras shipping, although I do sort of get it.   I’m really not interested in Seras in some freaky-deaky sex kind of way.    Take the D/s stuff to the Alucard/Integra room where it belongs.   No, there’s something very wholesome between Alucard and Seras, and I could talk about it all damn day.    And why not?  It’s my blog, and I’ve got the time.    So let’s start with--

Um, excuse you?!  

Okay, so Anderson isn’t waiting around to take on Alucard, so I guess we’re doing this now.

And whether or not the Major planned for this to happen, he certainly approves...

[thepixiepaige]

Shes still got another 2-3k in her I think but here, have the first couple thousand words because I can't sleep.

Tw: misaligned kink, huge misunderstandings,bruises/marking, rough sex,

Pairings: reki/langa, adam/langa, (and soon adam/langa/reki wheneverI can get my tippy typers on board again u.u)

⛓❄⛓

Langas voice went low, smoothed over, and languid around a single syllable as soon as Reki's hands touched his throat, tipped his head up, and held him there with hard, calloused fingers.

 "Oh."

Reki flailed back, pulling his hand away in a flourish of motion, "Oh?! Shit, are you okay? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry I got kind of carried away. "

 Langa grabbed for his fingers, placed them against his throat again almost eagerly. "No! It was good. I... I liked it."

 When Reki's eyes snapped to his face, Langa could almost feel his uncertainty. He shifted his hips up against Reki encouragingly, working a shocked and bashful huff from his lips.

 Reki made a noise like he was drowning and met the motion eagerly. His fingers on Langa's throat stayed gentle.

 "Reki please," Langas voice, high and sharp, begged through their shared gasps. Settled, bone dry and cutting, against Reki's heart.

 He jerked his hands away again, fit them tight around the subtle arch of Langa's waist instead and fucked into him harder. The sound of skin and wailed gasps, the burn of Langa's fingers as he gripped at Reki's wrists and held felt like an apology.

 ⛓❄⛓

 "Would you be upset? If I saw Adam."

 Reiki’s fingers slipped on the truck he was tightening, sending the bolt, the wrench, and the entire board flying even as he shot out clumsy limbs to try stopping them all. “Upset? What? No. Of course not. Why would I be upset? Should I be upset?”

 Langa’s smiles were always a sight to behold. And this one was no different, small, and hidden behind the lock of hair that fell in front of his face as he ducked his head. When he looked back up the smile was still there but it was tinged with something more… heated. Steely.

 “I want to try some of the things you can’t do, Reki. It’s not that I don’t love you. Not that I don’t think you wouldn’t try. But I don’t think that’s fair to you. I don’t want to hurt you but I- I just want to know what it’s like. I think he could do that for me. With me.”

 Reki felt his heart break and mend and stutter all within the span of a minute.

 “Oh?” he said and then followed it with another, softer. “Oh.” He swallowed as he bent to pick up the fallen board and set it back to rights. “Yeah, of course. It’s been years, Langa. I’m not scared of that old asshole anymore. He doesn’t upset me. Of course you can see Adam.”

 Langa’s face lit up and Reki knew he’d done something Good. When he leaned in to kiss him Reki laughed, warm and bright, relieved by the touch he hadn’t known he’d been doubting. He brought his hand up to run gentle fingers through Langa’s faded blue hair. He pulled the taller man down to him, kissed the place where his hair was growing in dark at the roots. 

 “Thank you. Thank you. God, I love you.”

 ⛓❄⛓

 It started with a single day in an another wise innocuous week. The first of the month and a Saturday. Reki knew it by the fact that he had a showcase to work. One of the rare sort where he had to be a professional and talk numbers and couldn’t have Langa by his side so they could goof off and demo the new builds. 

 “I’m gonna see Adam today,” Langa whispered into his shoulder, pressing kisses into the side of Reki’s throat as he tried to shave in the foggy bathroom mirror. Reki angled his head to the side with a hesitant expression that he schooled fast, a skip in his heart that he ignored. 

 “Yeah, have fun with that,” he taunted, sarcasm dripping from his teeth as he tried to run the razor down his cheek without taking his entire face off. Langa’s eyes met him in the mirror. Watched his face as Langa slipped his hands beneath the towel wrapped around Reki’s hips and out of sight. 

Reki dropped the razor into the sink with a groan like satin, gripped the edge of the basin, and held on.

 He came home after Reki did, limping, and favoring one of his sides as he moved but his smile was huge and the relaxation in his frame was obvious in the way he poured himself onto the couch and into Reki’s lap. Reki snorted, cupped his palm over Langa’s shoulder, and kneaded at the knotted muscle beneath. 

 “Jesus, what did he do? Throw you into moving traffic?”

 Langa’s voice was soft and warm, “Something like that.”

 “Did you have fun?”

 “Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

 Reki chewed on his words for a few seconds, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, “I’m glad.”

 Langa snorted then.

 “No really, I’m happy you’re enjoying yourself, you ass.” Reki pressed with the heel of his hand into the shoulder he had been massaging, feeling Langa’s entire body go taut with something that didn’t quite look like pain. He slid his hand around under Langa’s chin and tipped his head up. “I am, like, a nice person sometimes. Even about him.”

 “You are a very nice person, Reki. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

 Reki kissed him soft and then kissed him harder. Langa went liquid beneath him, rolling to his back and hissing in pain even as he tried to snake himself up for more contact.

 “God, what did y’all do?” Reki laughed.

 Langa pulled back, eyes focused and searching as he pushed Reki’s hair back from his face. 

 “Do you wanna know?”

 Reki thought about it. Remembered months of being jealous and bitter and mean over Adam’s focus on Langa. Over Langa’s returned interest. Remembered the fights and bloody knuckles when the two of them had finally had enough of trying to force too much emotion into wild, reckless, competition. Remembered the days of Langa forcing the two of them to sit down and actually talk it out and smooth things over into an antagonistic truce. 

 The resolution they eventually reached had taken even longer than Adam and Cherry’s had. But Reki got the feeling they’d done a lot more of their, "working it out" with their dicks out, though. He’d rather be forced to endure another month of Adam trying to force-feed him concrete than take part in that.

 And now, years later, that truce still held. Adam had even been at the housewarming party when Langa and Reki had finally decided that paying rent on two apartments was ridiculous when neither of them was ever alone in their own place for more than a few hours at a time.

 “Nah, y’all can have your thing. Just- don’t get hurt too badly, yeah?”

 ⛓❄⛓

 Langa did get hurt. Regularly.

 Watching him strip down in the washroom at the end of another day, one where he knew Langa had spent at least an hour or two at Adam’s, Reki was confronted with the darkening spread of newly forming bruises up the side of his partner’s thighs, cresting high onto his hip and over the curve of one side of his ass. The skin was flushed red, tight, and broken open in a few spots and-

 “Holy shit is that from Adam’s fucking board?!” 

 Langa turned, looking over his shoulder and pressing his long fingers into the forming crossbar shape of the crucifix skateboard Ainosuke had used in their final beef so many years before. “Yeah, kind of-” he breathed, voice low.

 Reki reached out to run his fingers over the mark before laying his palm, cool and comforting in comparison, over the whole of the wretched bruise already blooming. “I didn’t even realize he still had that thing. What the hell are y’all doing?”

 Langa grimaced, pressed into Reki’s palm, “It’s a lot to explain. You could... come. If you wanted.” His expression was nervous, vulnerable, as he watched Reki’s face.

 “Pffft. Trust me, I want nothing to do with whatever adrenaline junkie wild shit y’all get up to. I’m gonna keep my ass firmly planted in a design chair and just… stay out of it.”

 He reached around Langa to start the bath, letting the water warm before nudging the Canadian into it. “Let me wash your hair?”

 “Yeah. Please.”

 The next time it was a nasty cut on the top of his ankle, scraped skin bordering a gash that wrapped itself from the front of his leg almost entirely around to his achilles. It was stitched in one spot toward the center. Neat little sutures that were bathed in antiseptic but kept open to the air. His wrists were bruised as well, shocking and dark against his pale skin.

 “Langa, what the fuck!?”

 Reki shoved a set of chopsticks into his mouth to free his hands up to shove the pot he was stirring off the burner and shut it off. He spat them out unceremoniously and made his way into the entryway in a flurry of grasping arms and spinning limbs.

 “I’m okay, I’m okay. I’m good, Reki. Look at me.” Langa held his frantic partner's face in his hands. “I’m fine.”

 “What happened?”

 “I panicked a little. But it’s alright. Tadashi took me to the emergency room and I got stitched up in no time. Right as rain.”

 Reki’s expression went stormy, “Tadashi took you?”

 Langa turned his hands, fit his fingers over Reki’s mouth. “Not because Adam didn’t want to. It’s complicated. He felt bad about it, I promise. It’s okay, Reki. It was just an accident.”

 Reki believed him, kissed his fingertips where they still rested over his lips, and huffed out a frustrated noise. “I don’t want you getting hurt, Langa. This is the same shit as before and I want you fucking -”

 Langa’s laugh was bright and unexpected, still rare in its verbosity. “No, I can promise you this is nothing like before. Trust me.”

 Later that night Reki’s fingers worked fast over the touch screen of his phone;

[Text to Adam:] hurt him like that again and they wont be able to find all your pieces

[Text from Adam:] Don’t be jealous, Third Wheel. It’s a shitty look on you.

 ⛓❄⛓

 Reki did trust Langa. He trusted him with everything he had, with everything he was. And Langa was happy. For all of his bruises and pains and cuts, he came home from his visits every week or so sated and loose-limbed in a way that Reki could only remember having seen on him under street lights, stretched out and panting after landing tricks that felt impossible beneath the watchful eyes of the stars.

 That must have been why, when Langa came home with what was very clearly not a skateboarding injury, Reki saw red, blood boiling hot and livid with a rage that ached all through.

 “He’s fucking you? You’re letting him. Fuck. You.”

 Reki had his hands fisted in the collar of Langa’s shirt, had him pulled down to his face in a vice-like grip that threatened to tear the fabric at its seams. Beneath the stretched opening was a bruise in the shape of teeth, skin so close to broken it looked almost black at the spots Reki could almost see Adam’s teeth sinking.

 Langa looked confused, his eyes searching across Reki’s face for something. His words were careful, hushed, and so so quiet. 

 “Reki we… you said this was okay.”

 “What the hell are you talking about?”

 Langa wrapped his hands around Reki’s wrists, turned his head to press his lips to Reki’s palm only to have them wrenched from his clothing as quickly as they’d been put there.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me. I don’t know how to handle this right now I-” he scanned the room, brushed his hair back from his face, spun, and took a few hard steps away. “Stay here. I just- I need space for a minute.”

 He had his hands on the deck of one of the boards they kept lined up and neat by the door before Langa had fully dropped his hands. He wasn’t sure if the click of the door or the sound of his knees hitting the floor was louder.

 It was hours before Reki was home, the street lights flickering out with the rising of the sun as he shut the door quietly behind himself. He toed his shoes off and found Langa tear sodden but still awake, wrapped into himself in the corner of the couch.

 “Reki-”

 The redhead held up a scraped palm, condensed it into a single finger. “We need coffee. But then we’re gonna talk.”

 Langa nodded, scrubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes, and nodded somehow harder. When Reki turned to make his way into the kitchen he paused and waited, watched over his shoulder as Langa unfolded himself from the couch and climbed to his feet. When they stood together in the doorway Reki reached out scarred and calloused fingers to the place they both knew a bite lay blooming beneath layers of mindfully chosen fabric. 

 “I want you to tell me everything”

 ⛓❄⛓

[litwitlady]

A little something fun and fluffy for good Sunday vibes.

When Alex first entered the Crashdown, Michael didn’t recognize him. His hair was messy – tousled, like he’d just gotten well and truly fucked. His face was shadowed with days old scruff and a tiny gold-hopped earring shone in his left ear. The flannel was gone. In its place, a vintage looking band t-shirt and the tightest black jeans Michael had ever seen in New Mexico. Tripp’s dog tags completed the look. This could not be his Alex.

But it was. And it was hot.

‘Alex?’ Michael had no other words to offer. Had maybe forgotten the entire English language.

Alex greeted him with a smile as he shoved his hands into his too tight pockets. His triceps flexed and that’s when Michael noticed the muscles. They were literally everywhere. Michael took several steps back, knocking into an unsuspecting Liz who proceeded to spill several milkshakes down Michael’s shirt. Honestly, a freezing cold ice cream shower wasn’t entirely unwelcome. He apologized to Liz and told her not to worry about him. He’d be fine.

But would he, though?

The look on Alex’s face was one of bemusement. It was even hotter than the smile. ‘You okay, Michael?’

The answer was no and yes. Michael wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans and decided to be honest. ‘You’ve been working out, huh?’

Alex blushed and diverted his eyes. ‘Maybe.’

‘Well, um, it looks good on you. Not that you don’t always look good, obviously. I just mean –,‘ he trailed off, flailing his hands in Alex’s general direction. ‘I like the earring. Reminds me of …’

‘Yeah. I know. Me too.’ Liz called Alex’s name at the counter. ‘Well, that’s me, so. It was good seeing you, Michael.’ He turned to get his food and Michael couldn’t help but notice the way his pants stretched perfectly across his ass with every step.

‘Hey, wait.’ Alex looked back over his shoulder. Michael burned that image into his brain for later. ‘Would you like to eat lunch with me?’

Alex laughed softly. ‘You’re covered in ice cream, Michael.’

‘So? I have another shirt in the truck. I can go change and be right back.’ He decided to be okay with how desperate he sounded. No need for lies, anyway. Alex was single. He was single. Most importantly, he was ready. ‘Please, Alex?’

‘Yeah. Okay. I’d like that.’ Michael grinned and rushed outside to swap out his shirt. He stripped down right on Main Street, not giving one fuck who was watching. When he turned back to the diner, he saw Forrest Long open the door to head inside. His stomach dropped to knees. He knew they were broken up – had never, in fact, been all that serious. And yet.

And yet, what? Inside was the love of his life looking like an entire snack. Michael Guerin wasn’t afraid of a Long, for fuck’s sake. He finished buttoning up his signature three buttons and marched back inside. Shoulders tall and proud, maybe a little menacing.

Alex was seated in a back booth. Forrest was chatting with him animatedly. Michael threw himself chaotically across the booth from Alex and smiled up at the pesky historian. ‘Hello, Forrest. Joining us for lunch?’

But Forrest only smiled at him sociably. ‘Guerin. Good to see you. I wondered when you and Alex would finally work everything out.’

Not what Michael was expecting. Alex either, if the blush that creeped up his neck and across his cheeks was any indication. Michael tried to will Alex to meet his eyes but no such luck.

‘Well, I was just dropping by to say hello. I’ll let you get back to your lunch date.’ Forrest sauntered off to grab his food and leave.

‘Lunch date? Why would Forrest think we’re dating? And only a few weeks after you two broke up?’ Michael did try to keep the hope out of his voice this time. Didn’t want to spook Alex.

Alex dipped a fry into his milkshake, swirling it around while he considered his answer. ‘Maybe because that’s why I broke up with him.’

‘To go on lunch dates with other men? A bold new attitude for a bold new look. I like it.’ Michael smirked.

‘You know that’s not what I meant.’ Alex finally ate the fry he’d been playing with.

Michael reached across and stole a fry. Alex smacked his hand but let him take the fry anyway. ‘So, what do lunch dates normally consist of? I’ve never actually been on one.’

Alex smiled. ‘Well, we share a meal and a conversation. Maybe laugh a little. Then I let you take me outside, push me up against your truck, and kiss the breath from me.’

Michael choked on his fry and took several large gulps of Alex’s milkshake. ‘Jesus fuck, Alex.’

Alex laughed and threw a fry at his head. ‘Payback for all that chest hair you have on display.’

He glanced down at his barely buttoned shirt. ‘That’s fair.’

They spent the rest of their meal happily catching up on each other’s lives. Alex ended up sliding his plate across the table for Michael but refused to relinquish his milkshake. And when the time came, Michael did indeed kiss the breath from Alex. Against the side of his truck under the midday sun. Against the front door of Alex’s house with the security cameras watching. And eventually, against the pillows stacked on Alex’s bed while the day wore on and the night closed in.

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 26: Aim - Would You Like Some Bullets With That, Sir?

Vlad would absolutely have a few people who want him extra dead and maybe one or two actually willing to try. Too bad that doesn’t really work when the guy’s already half-dead. In fact, it does pretty well nothing other than provide mild amusement. Danny gets more of a kick out of it than the billionaire does though.

Danny and Vlad were having a decent walk and talk, a decent bonding experience. Surprising, he knows. But one of the key words there was ‘were’, because of course him and Vlad can’t be getting along without pissing off the universe.

Danny had been pointing the straw of his green tea matcha Frappuccino, with more than a couple espresso shots mixed in, at Vlad; trying to explain the nuances of food-related puns, because if he’s going to influence one thing it’s going to be Vlad’s tendency to use foods as swears. Vlad wasn’t exactly being receptive but hey, neither was Danny on the whole ‘etiquette’ lessons the man was trying to give him. But all that got interrupted when a big ass stereotypical white van pulled up with a screech and the doors slide open to a dude with a fucking machine gun. Well fine, handheld Gatling gun is more accurate but sounds a little less cool; besides it’s still technically a machine gun. Which is, in Danny’s opinion, massive fucking overkill. Vlad would be inclined to agree.

Needless to say, they get shot. A lot. Repeatedly. It’s very loud.

All the bystanders around physically pause, stunned a bit stupid that this was happening in Amity of all places not to mention rather desensitised to violence; regardless everyone starts booking it because, y’ know, big ass gun. Vlad actually crouches and moves to cover his head while flashing angry red eyes, he’s dealt with a fair few assassination attempts but in broad daylight? Really? He’ll give them a few points for having the guts. Danny meanwhile, is way too used to getting shot at to even react beyond just standing there at first, before glancing at his cup -which is draining all its contents through the holes onto the road- and grumbling a bit. The gun man stops when Danny bends over and starts laughing though. Even Vlad gives Danny some concerned looks as Danny waves the gun guy off with one hand on his knees, “sorry! It’s- it’s just! Just that! No ones ever-ever shot me! Shot me with a real- real gun!”. Danny sits on the ground and continues laughing while effectively bleeding out of multiple holes as flesh starts moving to slowly repair itself; which clearly the men have noticed and are scared shitless by, as both he and Vlad can feel, see, and smell the fear coming off the truck.

Vlad huffs, stands himself upright and goes about brushing off and inspecting his suit. Huffing again and turning to the van, crossing his arms, “I do believe you owe me a new suit, young man”. Someone inside the vehicle chokes. Danny thinks that’s a pretty reasonable reaction here. But there’s literally zero fucking point of them acting human here, because fuck they were both riddled with bullet holes and their blood was very literally splattered around the ground. Might as well scare these assholes a little.

Hence why Danny sticks a finger in one of the larger holes due to multiple bullets going through the same general area and giggles, “huh, that tickles”, and grins meanly at the driver who looks absolutely disturbed and too far into shock to try driving away yet. Though thinking of it, Vlad might actually try to kill them; tit for tat was absolutely Vlad’s primary go-to in any situation. Hence their arguably insanely prank wars. So Danny stands up and promptly launches himself inside the vehicle, knocking over the man with the bloody machine gun -seriously, how is that not overkill- and landing with his feet on the guys chest. Danny’s pretty sure the guy wet himself. Which, ew, but understandable.

“Okay I’m feeling nice because this is absurdly hilarious and would qualify as some ridiculous ass overkill for normal folks. Kinda pointless against immortals though, dontcha think?”, turning his head to look at Vlad -who’s quirking a single well-groomed eyebrow while his eye goes about repairing itself- through the door, “what do ya think?”.

Vlad walks over calmly and humming, “well I’ll give them points for accuracy, they hardly damaged the surroundings at all. Which I find I can appreciated since that avoids me having to make yet another dip into the damages funds. And I’ll be generous and give another point for dramatics; board daylight, middle of the city, biggest high-powered rapid-fire weapon anyone’s ever aimed at me, the sudden loud noise. Why I’m almost impressed. But I do find the overall end result to be rather lacking”. Vlad kicks one of the front tires hard enough to puncture it while the driver starts scrambling and fumbling to attempt at driving off. The psssssh sound the tire makes actively increases the smell of fear filling the van. Understandable, these guys had effectively just lost their getaway vehicle.

Danny chuckles, “aww, looks like someone’s not going anywhere anytime fast”, Danny grins meanly and flashes his green eyes. The guy passes out. “Ah damn, he passed out”, shrugging, “eh, hopefully he’ll think this was just some bad dream”.

Vlad hums as he climbs in, ecto-beaming another guy in the head to knock him out. Huh, guess Vlad’s really truly genuinely chilled out some in the evil villain department. “Yes that would be preferred, Daniel. I take it Phantom will be delivering these men to the jailhouse after having shielded the mayor and a young boy at the last second”.

Danny snorts as he gets off the gunman and kicks the driver in the head; the guys head bouncing off the steering wheel and obviously knocking him the Hell out. “Obviously. And hey, why not say Phantom healed any injuries to boot. Not like anyone’s sure about the power set of that spooky bastard”, and smirks. Talking about himself like a different person was arguably not necessary right now, no one was around after all, but hey it was kinda funny.

Vlad nods, riffles through the mens’ pockets and pockets all their cash. Which Danny rolls his eyes at, “old bank robber habits die hard?”. Vlad rolls his eyes, “hardly. This is simply to repay me for the damages. This was a nice suit I’ll have you know”. Which Danny rolls his eyes right back at him over while Vlad hops out of the vehicle, looks around, readjusts the remaining scraps of his suit, and saunters off; grabbing a surprisingly intact handkerchief from a definitely not intact pocket and starts dabbing blood off his face, hair, and hands. Danny’s not going to question why the man doesn’t just phase it off or reabsorb it into his body again.

Danny closes the vehicle doors purely to attempt at not transforming directly in open view in the middle of the street. Grabbing up the three guys before pausing and deciding eh why not and telekinetically floating the freaking machine gun onto his back and making that invisible. Flying off through the vehicle's roof.

-

Danny unceremoniously drops the men on the jailhouse floor, “gotcha a present. They tried to unload, like, a bazillion bullets into the dear ol’ mayor”.

Officer Jay sighs, “we were getting some calls about a shooting? But with regular guns”, motioning a few other cops to drag the guys away.

Danny chuckles and nods, “try machine gun”, the cop almost chokes while Danny continues, “not that that is particularly effective on intangibility”.

The cop looks him over, obviously noticing the healing bullet wounds here and there. Healing however many bullet holes takes time you know! “Obviously you weren’t quite fast enough”.

Danny shrugs, “eh, blowing a bunch of holes in a ghost doesn’t really do much other than make a mess. Mayors cool though”.

“That’s... good”, Jay shakes his head, “well, we’ll take care of these guys and I doubt they legally had a machine gun. You didn’t just leave that out in the street did you?”. Danny waves the guy off nonchalantly, “Fenton was there too, took it as his plundered booty”, he makes a point to make that last bit sound pirate-like. The cop sighs and rubs his temples, “so there’s a seventeen-year-old running around with a machine gun”.

“Yup”, absolutely popping the ‘p’.

Danny easily hears the guy mutter, “somedays I would really like to quit”, before looking back to him, “well that family has every weapon license known to man, so I’m not even going to bother. Have a good day and a fulfilling afterlife”. Danny salutes with a cheeky grin before phasing up through the roof.

-

Sam and Tucker don’t so much as blink from Danny suddenly appearing from around a corner and barging in-between the two of them, “hey guys, some guys left me a little present”

Both give a mildly interested and slightly worried, “oh?”. Which is fair, Danny has described getting a taser stuck in his leg as ‘a present’ before.

He grins a bit psychotically, makes the gun visible, and whips it around to be holding it in his hands, “a machine gun!”.

Sam slows her pace slightly, just enough to no longer have a freaking mini-gun pointed at her stomach, “that’s nice Danny”. While Tucker looks much more excited, “Holy frick that’s awesome. Where’d that come from though?”.

Sam sighs, “or more specifically how and why. Ghosts don’t exactly use human weapons and ‘some guys’ is vague as shit”.

Danny chuckles, because that who ordeal was still stupid funny. “Curtsy of one poorly informed assignation attempt in dear ol’ uncie Vlad”.

Tucker blinks, “wait, someone actually tried to assassinate him”, then pauses, “wait no, of course someone tried to assassinate Vlad. He’s Vlad”. Making all three chuckle while Danny fiddles with the massive ass barrel.

All three grin viciously when they spot Dash and co. across the street. Danny deciding to yell, “hey Dash!”, and easily tilting the machine gun up due to, y’ know, super strength, and fires off a bunch of bullets into the air; extending his intangibility to the bullets of course so that they don’t actually hit anything and forming some ectoplasm ‘round his friends' ears so he doesn’t, like, blow out their eardrums or some shit.

Dash stares at him a little bug-eyed before scowling, sticking his arms out to the side, and shouting back, “I haven’t bullied you in a year! Why you still giving me vague ass death threats!”.

Danny cackles, aims the gun to shoot the sign over the assholes head, and riddles it with bullets, “it’s payback bitch!”. Sure Danny would never have done that if he wasn’t absolutely certain his aim was so fucking flawless that there was zero chance of him hitting anything other than what exactly he wanted to. And sure, maybe he swirled some invisible ectoplasm around the bullet trajectory too but no one needs to know that. Dash predictably staggers back, flips him off, and books it down the road.

Danny lowers the gun with a chuckle, “that was fun. So worth getting shot a few times”. Sam blinks at him and looks more than a little not impressed, “you actually got shot, Danny”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “what, in any world, would make you think I didn’t get shot”. Sam just huffs, obviously having no argument for that. Because yeah, Danny always got shot or stabbed or electrocuted or set on fire or a lot of other things.

Tucker shakes his head, “and yet you look totally fine”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “Tuck, what can a regular ol’ bullet do to me”. That gets both his friends to blink and give him disbelieving, “wait, they weren’t even ecto-bullets”. Tucker shaking his head with a laugh at Danny’s nod, “wow, whoever really did, like, zero research”.

“I know right. We scared them real good though”.

Tucker laughs a bit more, “never before have I actually wished to be at a shooting”, shrugging, “first for everything”.

“Amen to that”, Danny emphasises that statement by smacking the gun.

End.

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 9

Buster hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and stared up with admiration at the 120-foot crane. Having been delivered to the set in multiple pieces by a fleet of huge trucks, the workmen had just finished putting it together. “Beautiful, ain’t she?”

At his side, Joe grimaced. “Did you have to?”

“ ‘Course I did,” said Buster. “How else are we going to lift the hospital off me in the cyclone sequence?”

“I just didn’t expect it … it’s so big, you know?”

“Damn right it is.”

“How much did it cost?” “How much did it cost? Really?” Buster said, feeling like Joe had just stuck a pin in his mood and popped it. “It cost what it cost.”

Joe rubbed the back of his neck as he looked up at the crane. “I just wish you’d said something first. Harry’s worried about going over budget.”

“Tell him he can blow it out his ass,” said Buster. “I’m getting damn sick of Harry. Didn’t we all sit down and agree a cyclone was just fine?” He bit his tongue and didn’t say ‘I told you so,’ because if they’d stuck to the original plan, there wouldn’t have been a crane. He wasn’t sure how much the cyclone had run them so far, but it was already over $20,000.

“Yeah, I guess we did. Just try to—” said Joe. “Well don’t go overboard, is what I’m getting at.”

Buster, who had already handsomely paid to go overboard, kept his silence again. “Sure.”

They took a street car to K Street. The sidewalks were still busy when they arrived at the Senator theater around 6:30, everyone parading around in their Saturday night finery. She felt good about the ensemble she’d chosen, a short-sleeved dusty peach cotton dress with a mauve straw cloche hat and silk stockings. Inside, the Senator was cool. She’d been to a picture there only once before, but it was enough to make her fall in love with the place, which had been built just two years prior and was new like everything on the West coast was new. It was adorned in velvet drapes and jardinières heaped with fresh chrysanthemums, plush wall-to-wall carpeting, and fringed lamps, but her favorite feature was the painted dome and the enormous multi-tiered chandelier hanging from its center.

As she and the Kimbles took their seats in the balcony, she looked to the box seats on either side of the theater, half-expecting to see Buster in one, but she didn’t. Maybe he was in the crowd, but there was only so much gawking she could do before attracting attention. She saw him in person nearly every day now, but always at a distance and always when he was busy in front of or behind the camera. River Junction had been a bustle of workmen and noise in the mornings as they rebuilt sets for the cyclone and put together the biggest crane she’d seen in her life. Bert allowed her to take breaks a couple times a day to watch the filming. Even though she was behind the scenes now and could see everything, from the cluster of noisy cameras to the even noisier rain machines, the sight of Buster falling into a puddle up to his waist or being blown off his feet by a gust of wind was still a laugh. On Thursday, she’d been called upon to place an order for five large loaves of bread from a bakery, but they were spirited off to an unknown part of the set and their purpose remained a mystery. 

Her brief acquaintance with Buster seemed to have come to an end and she wasn’t inclined to press it any further, having made an ass of herself the first day in his dressing room and then later after the party at the blind tiger. It was enough that he knew her name. She’d begun hoping that the company would keep her on when they wrapped filming and packed up for Hollywood in a few weeks. The more she stuck around, the more people would know her face, and the more people knew her face, the greater her chances were of being recognized by a studio.

She shared Joe and Maggie’s jumbo box of Junior Mints as the lights went down and the opening short started. An organ in an arched box with pillars provided accompaniment. 

When the opening credits of Buster’s feature began, Nelly’s pulse quickened a little bit. It was surreal when he finally appeared on the screen, walking beneath an umbrella with his mother in the pouring rain, soaked to the skin; she’d gotten used to him as a flesh-and-blood person. She now knew how his production company made that rain and that there were cameras in front of him tracking his every step. She also knew that the person inside the truck driving down the street in the background was an extra. Nevertheless, the scene still looked believable, and pretty soon she was sucked into the story like the rest of the audience.

Buster played a brainy college freshman without a lick of athletic ability, which happened to be the only thing his girl cared about. He spent most of the picture trying out for sports to impress her and failing miserably. Buster often took two or three-hour lunches to play baseball with his production team, so Nelly couldn’t quite buy that he didn’t understand the rules of the game and couldn’t hit a ball to save his life.

As the movie wore on, she became aware—and it gave her an unpleasant sensation, like an itch—that he was better-looking than she remembered. It embarrassed her somewhat to see him in his skimpy track outfit. In one scene where he sat on the sidelines, the shorts rode up so high she could see where his tan ended and his natural skin tone, considerably paler, began. She was almost glad when the movie ended. The last few seconds had been queer, besides. The scene of Buster and his girl walking out of the chapel after being married had melted into a scene of them sitting at home while their children played in the background, then one of them in old age, before concluding with a shot of two headstones.

The organ died away and the lights went up. 

“What on earth did that ending mean?” said Maggie, with a look on her face.

“I don’t know,” said Nelly, but it had given her a bad taste. Judging by the expressions on their neighbors’ faces, they weren’t alone in their confusion. Even in Shakespeare’s time, everyone knew that you ended a comedy with a marriage. To do otherwise was to let your audience down. The abrupt, morbid ending brought her back to reality and reminded her that the real Buster was not to be confused with his handsome, whimsical on-screen counterpart.

Joe was the only one who seemed to find the ending funny and tried explaining it as they made their way up the balcony and down the stairs. Nelly was busy searching the exiting crowd for Buster’s face and only half listened. They made it out onto the sidewalk before she accepted she wasn’t going to see him that night. 

Maggie proposed getting hamburgers before they went home and Joe and Nelly agreed. They found a diner on L Street and sat in a booth with a checkered red-and-white tablecloth.

“So what’s he really like?” Maggie said, after their food arrived and they were tucking into burgers and coleslaw. She was a heavier girl, pretty, with auburn hair and freckles on her nose. Her claim to fame was that her maternal grandfather had been one of the original inhabitants of Sacramento when it was first incorporated. She’d asked Nelly the question before, but Nelly didn’t mind answering it again. Buster had rubbed off some fifteen minutes of fame onto her and there was no sense in not using them. Of course, she hadn’t told them that he was her savior the night of the party; in her untruthful retelling, Bert had played that role. They did know, however, that he had invited her to be an extra and that she’d baked him cookies after his accident with the baseball.

“Not much like that,” said Nelly. She looked up and scanned the faces in the other booths as if one might belong to Buster, but they didn’t. “He smiles in real life, but you know that, I’ve said that before. He can be very solemn. He’s not boyish like he is in pictures. I think he’s a kind person, mostly.” She was almost surprised to hear herself say it, but it was a conclusion she’d come to in spite of how he’d appalled her at their first meeting. He’d been a gentleman through and through when he rescued her at the party and took her back to his hotel room, and she couldn’t help but alter her opinion because of it. “He keeps a lot to himself and sticks to his own pals. And he’s very funny, just as funny as his movies.”

“He’s a real athlete too,” Joe said. “He can’t hide that.”

Nelly agreed. “Yes, he plays a lot of baseball with his team.”

“I liked the picture anyway. The gags were funny,” said Joe.

“It was alright,” Nelly said.  

Maggie added, “I’m still not keen on that ending.”

“No,” said Nelly. 

They ate their burgers and the conversation moved to the Senators game (everything was called Senator here since Sacramento was the capital) and how, according to Joe at least, the team hadn’t been the same since Brick Eldred (whoever he was) left. It was getting late by the time they left the diner, and they took a taxi back to 22nd Street, Nelly and Maggie deciding that they’d forgo the dance hall for the evening. 

Nelly had almost forgotten about Buster by the time she crawled into bed around eleven. She tried to drift off by boring herself with thoughts of baseball. Her father and uncle liked the White Sox, but she’d never really understood or cared for the game. Her only memory of the game she’d been taken to as a little girl was of eating hot dogs and popcorn and wandering the stands with Ruthie. Although she couldn’t say why, fantasies of men had not been satisfying since the incident with Tommy, not even her go-to of John Barrymore. The idea that a man might take up baseball or another sport he was abysmal at in order to win the love of a girl seemed laughable now that she thought about it, but Buster had done it—and more—in College. He’d even rescued the girl from his rival who was trying to ruin her reputation.

Her eyes shot open. She hadn’t thought of it until now, but Buster had rescued her that night at the blind tiger. Of course, he hadn’t done it out of a sense of love and there was no reading into the coincidence since the picture had been shot long before she’d met Tommy or Buster, but it struck her regardless. Maybe Buster’s pictures did reveal something of his character. As she puzzled over it, her thoughts got hazier and hazier, until finally she dropped off to sleep.

Note: Bonus update this week. I think you all deserve it after current events! Also, do admire this screengrab where Buster’s tan ends and his normal skin color begins.