#yeah i was knitting them while waiting for my laptop to charge when i was writing malleus's soul match

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Shrimpy?

We have Grim, and now our dearest Shrimp Prefect is here (I finished them August 18th but haven’t posted them yet).

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Prove Them Wrong | Reggie Peters

A/N: I got these two requests for a Reggie fic and decided to merge them together, I hope you don’t mind! 

Request 1:  Please i just want a fanfic of reggie discovering YouTube and uploading home is where my horse is video and the gang reacting to it since people absolutely love it

Request 2:  Hi!! Can you do one where the reader is julies friend and is with her when the boys come back and her and Reggie have a instant connection and he follows her around and is always talking to her

Relationships: Reggie x Reader, Sunset Curve x Reader, JATP x Reader

Warnings: Fluff? 

Words:  4,165

Your life has been pretty ordinary for the past 16 years. A life pretty much every person would call boring was a life you wouldn’t change for the world’s most expensive things. Until you met Reggie and the other boys from Sunset Curve. You say boys, but it would be much more accurate if you said ghosts. Sunset Curve was a ghost band from the 90’s that popped into your life one night when you were helping your best friend Julie clean up her mother’s studio. 

2 months earlier… 

A text from Julie comes in when you’re doing your homework on your bed whilst watching reruns of Friends on your laptop. The show makes for good background noise, you find. “911!” Worry rises within you as you read the call-for-help text from your best friend. “U ok?” you text back. Three dots begin dancing on the screen, raising suspense. “Do u wanna come help me clean out mom’s studio? :( x” A soft smile plays at your lips whilst more dots appear. “Don’t think I can do it by myself.” You close the Netflix app on your laptop and get up to put some proper pants on. You had the habit to kick your jeans off the second you got home. Prancing around in your underwear after a tough day at school has become one of your favorite things to do, but Julie might not appreciate that too much, nor would the neighbors. “OMW!” you quickly text back and hop into your Vans before heading down to the Molina house. You find your best friend behind the grand piano, looking up at the chair-decorated ceiling of the shed. Something Julie’s mom did with a superstitious meaning you’d kind of forgotten. Neither you nor Julie believed it, to be fair. “Hey,” you greet softly, making her look at you. A smile appears on her lips, glad you’d be willing to come over and help. Like you’ve been so many times last year when her mother died. You’d be there to listen to her talk about all the memories with her mom, or to hug her as she cried because she missed her.  This is just another part of the grieving process she needs to get through, and you’re there to hold her hand all the way through it. “Are you okay?” you ask, walking towards the piano and leaning your forearms on it. “Yeah, it’s just a little weird to be here…” she says as her eyes start scanning the entire space. “There are so many memories of her in here.” Her fingers glide across the piano keys. “Yeah, I know,” you whisper, not wanting to bring up anything that might hurt her. You remember the days you’d come over to play with Julie and you’d hear her mom singing in her studio. You remember when you’d make music together with Carrie and her dad and Julie’s mom. There are so many unfinished songs about bunnies and puppies from when you were kids, and even some more recent ones about the person you had a crush on or about that boy that broke your heart when you were fifteen. Those songs are now stored away in the back of your mind, waiting for the day Julie would start singing again. Along with all those memories you put on tape.  “Let’s get crackin’!” you tap the top of the piano in a rhythmic beat before stepping away and holding out your hands for Julie to take. The girl gets up from the stool behind the piano and carefully places her hand in yours. You pull her away from the piano and halt in the middle of the garage, looking up to the loft that suddenly seems very looming. Both of you know whatever’s up there is the ghost of a musician’s past, and not even Julie’s mom’s. No, all the instruments up there are from the people that used to live here. Julie never told you, but you’re certain Carrie’s dad used to live here when he was a child and sold his parents’ house to Julie’s parents when they died. You’d noticed the way Trevor always stood in the doorway, glancing around with soft eyes and a tender smile tugging at his lips. Almost like he’s reminiscing about his past. Besides, he’s accidentally slipped up a few times when talking about his childhood, saying he used to play around here with some of his buddies. No one else ever mentioned it, so you didn’t either. There’s probably a good reason for him not to speak about his past in too much detail. You climb up the stairs first and step up on the wooden floor, letting your eyes scan over all the junk up here. Keyboards, old guitars, drumsticks, even an entire drum kit, along with bags and backpacks, all strewn around the place. “Y/N,” Julie’s voice makes you snap out of your thoughts. You look down to find Julie still on the stairs, half of her body in he loft. She’s holding a CD up to show you. “Sunset Curve?” you read aloud from the black CD case. “Never heard of that band.” “Let’s give it a listen?” she suggests and after receiving an agreeing nod from you, she climbs down again, followed by yourself. She places the CD into the stereo whilst you sit down on the couch. Julie presses play and joins you. “1-2-3 Take off, last stop Countdown till we blast open the top Face first, full charge--” The music fades away as it’s overpowered by a loud screeching noise. You look over at Julie, who has her hands up to her ear to cover them from the noise. Your eyebrows knit together, confused as to what’s happening. It might just be a fault in the production of the song? Or maybe a scratch on the CD? Before you can even come up with a decent reason, a bright flash lights up the entire garage, followed by a loud thud. And, when you look up, you find three boys in the middle of the studio, scrambling up from where they’d come down harshly. You and Julie quickly get up from the couch, wanting to take a closer look at the scene in front of you.  “Woah! How did we get back here?” One of them says, confused about his surroundings. Julie lets out an ear-piercing scream before running out of the garage, leaving you with those three boys. You have no clue what’s happening, and you don’t know what to do either. Should you run and hide like Julie? Or should you just wait and see if they have a reason for being here? “Hello!” one of them yells excitedly, making you snap out of your train of thoughts. It’s the dark-haired boy with the red flannel tied around his waist that’s talking to you. “I’m sorry, who are you and what are you doing in our studio?” Your eyes widen at this. They think this is their studio? “I-I’m… I’m sorry, gimme a second,” you say, holding up your finger. The boy nods curtly before you dash out of there too, running up to Julie’s room with the question haunting your head ‘Who are they? And why do they think it’s their studio?’ After a while, you and Julie pluck up the courage to go back into the garage, armed with a cross since Julie’s positive they’re ghosts. Turns out they are. They -- along with Google -- explain they’re three ghosts that used to be in a band called Sunset Curve and that they died after eating bad hotdogs in ‘95. Luke, Reggie and Alex introduce themselves to you, and from that moment on, you’re certain these three ghost boys will change your life forever. And they do. 

Present day

To say your life has changed since the day those boys came into your life is an understatement. It went from studying while watching Friends in your room to going out to their gigs almost every Saturday and sitting in on their rehearsals every day after school. You, along with Julie, have grown very close to the boys in the last five months. They’ve become your best friends you could talk to about everything and anything. But the most special connection you have, is with Reggie. Ever since that day, the boy hasn’t left you alone. Every time you’re at the Molina house, he’ll poof in, wherever you are. Whether you’re getting a drink or a snack in the kitchen, or  you’d just come out of the bathroom, he’d be there. This caused a lot of heart attacks, but also a lot of deep conversations.

Especially if he came to your own house. This was mostly when he’d had a bad day or missed his old life or his parents. He’d poof into your room and just tell you to do whatever you were doing, that he just wanted to hang out. After a few times, you didn’t even ask anymore and he didn’t have to tell you to just continue whatever you were doing. Those nights even ended with the two of you cuddling, which is something  you realized you could do for some unknown reason. But you liked it, so you didn’t think too much about it.  Today is Friday, which means it’s the last big rehearsal before the boys and Julie have their gig tomorrow night. And though you’d much rather be there with them, you have to watch your little siblings for the night since your parents have gone out to a dinner party. You’re making some popcorn in the kitchen for all of you to munch on when watching a movie, when Reggie suddenly poofs in, making you jump. You hadn’t expected him to come in this early, which causes the worry to well up inside of you. Something must’ve happened. “Reg, you okay?” you ask in a hushed voice, glancing back at the kids in front of the tv. “No…” he murmurs, wringing his flannel in his hands. He looks sad, sadder than when he misses his old life, which means something really bad must’ve happened. “Gimme a second,” you say and turn to leave the kitchen. Reggie smiles a little as those words remind him of the first words you ever said to them. “Kids, it’s time for bed!” Moans and whines come from the little kids on the sofa, protesting their early bedtime. “No complaining! Chop chop!” you rushed them up the stairs before returning to the kitchen. “Get yourself comfy on the couch, I’m just gonna put them to bed real quick, okay?” Reggie nods agreeingly and watches you walk away again. He grabs the bowl of popcorn you’d prepared and takes it into the living room. Even though he can’t eat, he’d want you to snack on it since you’re the one that made it. “Sorry it took so long. They can be really stubborn sometimes,” you exhale frustratedly as you plop onto the couch next to Reggie. “Now, tell me, what’s going on?” “So, I suggested to Luke we’d try this song I wrote a while ago,” he starts solemnly. “Home is Where My Horse is?” you ask, remembering him writing that up in your room. You’d even helped him on some verses.  “Yes, that one! But he just rejected it… Again!” he sighs exasperatedly, throwing his head back on the backrest of the couch. “Yelled at him that he didn’t appreciate my talent and just poofed out,” he chuckles airily, and you do too. “I’m sorry Luke isn’t more open to your creativity, Reg… I really wish I could help you somehow, if I knew something I--” you stop in your tracks as an idea pops into your head. “What is it, Y/N?” he asks, getting excited as it seems you have an idea.  “What if we film you singing the song and upload it on YouTube?” you suggest, eyes twinkling at the idea alone. He nods excitedly at first, but then slows down when he realizes he has no clue what you’re talking about. “What’s a YouTube?” he asks. You let out a giggle before grabbing his hand and leading him towards the dining table where you’d left your laptop. You open it on the site and show him the home page filled with different types of recommended videos. “It’s a platform where people can post videos of whatever they like. A lot of artists use it for their music videos nowadays. It’s where I posted ‘Edge of Great’ a few weeks ago,” you explain. 

He peers at the screen with wide, intrigued eyes. You then lean forward and type in ‘Queen don’t stop me now’ before hitting enter. Reggie’s eyes widen even more as you press play on the music video.

“I could film you with my dad’s equipment and edit the whole thing together and upload it. At least then the world will see how truly talented you are and maybe Luke might change his mind too?” He eagerly nods his head in agreement, getting excited about the whole idea. Besides him being able to prove to his band that his country songs are worth taking a second look at, it’s also a good opportunity for you to test out some new techniques. 

So, on Saturday, the two of you get up at the crack of dawn -- or you do since ghosts don’t really sleep -- and make your way down to the riding club your little brother goes for riding classes. You’re acquainted with the owners, so they’ll let you film whatever you need around there. Doesn’t even matter if it looks like you’re not filming anything. “Okay, you ready?” you mutter as you set up the first scene. He’s currently sitting on a picnic bench with his guitar in his lap and the stables in the background. Your camera is set up in front of Reggie with the stable doors on each side of his head, perfectly balanced. You simply nod your head curtly as his ‘action’ sign. He immediately starts strumming his guitar and singing out his self-made words. “Home, what is it really? Sometimes it’s a someone and not a place, It’s that feeling of being safe, It’s about who you’re with at the end of the day…” You spent the entire day running around the ranch, letting Reggie sing his song multiple times in different locations. You even film a couple of nature shots to edit in later. This is just going to be the greatest music video you’ve ever made, and it’s all thanks to Reggie. Your Sunday is spent behind your laptop, editing Reggie’s footage until it’s turned into a somewhat coherent video. “Hey!” Reggie poofs into your room late that night. “Where’ve you been? You missed movie night!” he asks, worry laced in his voice. You don’t even take your eyes off your screen. It’s almost finished just a few more… Yes! “I just finished editing your video! Wanna see?” He nods his head excitedly, so you make some room for him on the chair you’re sitting on. He seems hesitant at first, but eventually sits down on the very edge. Your entire side that’s touching his tingles. It’s always been a weird feeling to touch him, but this is from an entirely new calibre. You rewind the video and press play. There’s a shot of the surrounding nature at first and some horses galloping in the distance whilst the strumming of his guitar floats out of the laptop. Then the camera pans to Reggie on the picnic bench with his guitar. “Home, what is it really? Sometimes it’s a someone and not a place, It’s that feeling of being safe, It’s about who you’re with at the end of the day… and for me” The picture changes to Reggie looking out into the meadows, watching the horses frolic around in the grass with a couple of shots of him playing his guitar as he’s walking along with the horses. “Home is where my horse is! Riding through trees by the river Feel the summer breeze smile gettin’ bigger Home is where my horse is Don’t need a house or a roof I just put on the saddle, lace up my boots  Cuz home is where my horse is” In the next few shots, you’re even in it. Reggie had grabbed your camera and placed it on the grass before grabbing your hand and pulling you out into the meadow with him to dance. It probably looked most ridiculous to any bystanders, but the footage is too pretty not to use. You can just about see two silhouettes dancing around over the grass with a flare of sunlight breaking in and giving it a magical flair. “I don’t need the streets Don’t need the city lights I don’t need a fancy car I just hop on my horse and ride” You’d filmed a couple of the riders too, since Reggie himself couldn’t really ride a horse seeing he’s a ghost and everything. But it made for some good footage to set the scene of the song properly. “Home is where my horse is! Riding through trees by the river Feel the summer breeze smile gettin’ bigger Home is where my horse is I see the beautiful beast running up to me And I know I’m home” The song ends and the screen fades to black, Reggie vanishing as he looks out into the meadow again. You look up at real-life ghost Reggie with expectant eyes. He’s just staring at the black screen for a moment, mouth ajar and eyes wide. “Woah!” he finally mutters. “That was amazing, Y/N! Show me that again!” he exclaims excitedly. Of course you oblige and show him again. This time, he points out everything he loved. “This is my favorite part!” he says, pointing at the screen as the two of you are shown dancing. You can’t help but smile at how excited he gets over this collaboration. “So, can I upload it?” you ask when the screen fades again. “What?! Of course! Put it on the Tube-thing!” he claps his hands excitedly and watches as you open the site and start the upload on the Julie and The Phantoms channel. You had edited their Edge of Great video when Ray asked your father to help him film, so you pretty much had the right to do this, even if Julie might say otherwise. “There we go! It’s set to upload in about five minutes!” you say and turn to Reggie, almost forgetting how close he’s sitting until he’s literally mere inches away. You can actually feel his hot breath tickling your lips. A wave of warmth rushes through you when you catch his eyes darting from your lips to your eyes and back again. “You’re really talented, you know that?” You simply hum in response to this compliment, not that you agree with him, but you don’t know what else to do. You’re completely frozen in place. His eyes are so pretty up close. They’re the most beautiful shade of green you have ever seen, especially with that twinkle in them. “Can I kiss you?” his soft voice makes you snap out of your thoughts about those dreamy eyes.     “Wh--what?” you stutter, hoping you did hear that right, but not wanting to assume. “C-can I kiss you?” he repeats, his voice just above a whisper. 

“Yeah.” Your voice wavers ever so slightly. Reggie’s eyes flutter close as he leans in to press his lips to yours. There’ve been times you dreamed about doing this, but you never thought you’d actually be able to kiss him. The ability to touch him was a surprise and a miracle, you didn’t think this would be possible too. A bleep coming from your computer causes you to pull away abruptly. You just about catch the smile on Reggie’s face before you turn to the screen, madly blushing yourself. “It’s ready to go!” you state excitedly and start typing up a description for the video. “What are you doing?” he asks, peering over your shoulder. “Typing up a little description for the fans, or whoever watches,” you reply as your fingers stilt for a second to think about what else to write. “Home is Where My Horse is, a Reggie original. Written and performed by your favorite bassist, Reggie Peters. Filmed and edited by Y/N Y/L/N. Special thanks to Hold Your Reins Ranch.” He reads the little text aloud. “Nice,” he nods his head, impressed by your abilities with this foreign platform. “And we’re live!” you inform him as you have pressed the post button. “Thanks, Y/N,” he says with a soft smile, making you look at him again. “I’m just gonna kiss you again, is that okay?” You nod your head before closing the distance between the two of you and kissing him again. This is not what you’d expected to come from this project, but you’re glad it had. This feels right. That night, you send Julie a message with the link to the video. “Give the boy a chance. This is an actual bop!” you sent along with it. You’re a little scared you might’ve overstepped and shouldn’t have suggested making this video for Reggie and you definitely shouldn’t have posted it to the Julie and The Phantoms YouTube channel. It probably wasn’t your place to mingle into a band conflict, but you couldn’t handle seeing Reggie so upset. 

“Get ur talented ass to the studio. NOW,” Julie’s text reads. It sounds a little passive-aggressive, but you still obey and hop into some pants and shoes before heading down the other end of the street where the Molina house stands. “‘Sup, kids?” you say when you find the boys and Julie on the couch, throwing up a peace sign. The bubbliness might camouflage the nerves building up inside you. “Care to explain yourself, miss Y/L/N?” Julie starts with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. You glance over at Reggie. He’s glancing down at the rings around his fingers. “I’m sorry, Jules. But I really think you ought to give this boy and his horse a chance!” you aggressively point at the boy in question, whose head snaps up at this. Now he’s looking at you with a scared, yet tendered expression on his face.    “I was joking, babes,” Julie mutters, holding her hands up in defense. “We didn’t think you’d react this defensive over this…” Your eyebrows knit together as confusion takes over you. “Wh-what do you mean?” you question. “Your video has been viewed over a thousand times already and it’s only been up for about two hours, Y/N,” Julie explains and turns her laptop for you to see the view count at 1,327. Your breath hitches in your throat at the large number. That’s how many people have seen your work? I mean, you would’ve watched it that many times in a row yourself because that song is actually amazing. These people are stupid for not giving it a chance earlier. “Woah, Reg! That’s a lot of people hearing your song!” you exclaim excitedly. The boy gets up from the couch and walks over to you with a proud smile on his face. “Actually….” he starts and scrolls down on the laptop. You taught him how to do that. “They’re loving your camerawork and editing!” He shows you all the comments underneath the video. The reactions are divided evenly between praise for the song and praise for your work. “Wha--” your eyes dart from Reggie to Alex, then to Luke and Julie. “We had a band meeting and we want you to become our band’s official videographer,” Alex announces with that soft smile of his plastered on his lips. Your mouth drops in disbelief. You’ve always loved videography and editing, but you always saw it as something fun, not as an official band thing. After months of sitting in rehearsals and watching gigs, you’re finally going to be part of the band. Or close enough to being a part of the band. “What do you say, babe?” Reggie asks when you’ve been quiet for a good minute. Luke and Alex exchange glances at the sudden use of pet names. That’s new. “I mean, it could be cool?” you shrug humbly. The band cheers, Alex and Luke even high five. Before you can even go over to hug Julie, Reggie’s already cupped your face and crashes his lips to yours. You’ll never get used to that feeling. “That’s new,” you hear Alex say when the two of you pull away. You need a good second to cool it after that passionate kiss, but once you do, you beckon the others over for a group hug. “Thank you, guys,” you whisper and press a kiss to Julie’s hair as a thank you. From that day on, you’re not only known as the Julie and The Phantoms videographer, but also as the cute bassist’s girlfriend. To say your life has drastically changed since meeting these boys would be the understatement of the year.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @thequirkybookaholic​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @angryknightstatesmantrash​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @rudysbay​ @thedarkqueenofavalon​​ @caitsymichelle13​​ @calamitykaty​ @wiselight​ @kcd15​​

[words-for-holland]

Quarantine Series: Birthday Date Night

Summary: It’s Y/N’s birthday, but Tom faces a slight problem. How does a boyfriend top off an accidental proposal while his girlfriend is working on her birthday...again!

Check the Rest: Burnt Out | A New Look | Secret Cuts & Kisses | Breaking Friendships |The Birthday Week | Movie Night | Silence is Golden?

Masterlist

A/N: Sad to say that Quarantine Series may end real soon with 3 more parts to go 🥺. Also this was inspired by my birthday which just happened fairly recently! Thanks for all the support!!

“Tom, mate. You’re pacing back and forth is making me dizzy.” Harry warned Tom, as he lied down on his bed, laptop in hand.

“Sorry, but I don’t know what to do! Y/N’s birthday is in a few days and I have absolutely no plan.” Tom reasoned as he plops on the couch across from Harry. “I mean I already blew the proposal which was supposed to be her birthday gift, but thats gone to shit.” He mumbled, biting his thumbnail.

“Just be happy she said yes.” Harry chuckled as he recalled the day. “I mean has she given any hints? You know Y/N, if there’s something she really wants, she’ll tell the whole world.”

“I know, but she hasn’t said a word and everytime I do ask her, she says ‘I dont know.’”, Tom groans as he rubs his temples. “I just want to do something really nice for her.”

Harry rolls his eyes as he continues shopping for his gift for Y/N. He and Y/N always loved to share memes and compete in board games, so it was only fair he’d get her an exclusive edition of Exploding Kittens. The one with a hard cover box, that plays mariachi music when you open it up. To be fair, he also really wanted it too, so imagine all the rounds they could play in a single day. “You always say this every year, but ever year you always deliver. I don’t know what you’re so worried about.”

Tom sits still to ponder on his brother thoughts. “Yeah..Yeah I guess. Maybe I could take her out for a picnic lunch date. I know she’ll love to get out of the house. I’ll ask her to take off on Friday and it’ll be perfect!” He plans excitedly. He stands up, proud of his well thought out plan, already thinking of the perfect place to settle, the blankets to bring, and the smooth moves he’ll plan to swoon her away. It was completely foolproof.

Just two days before, Y/N displays a noticeable frown on her face. Sludging through the house, only made Tom drop his smile twice as fast when he noticed. “Hey, darling is everything all right?” He asked with worry written all over his face. Deep down, Tom prayed, hoping it was just something she liked was sold out or that she found out the ending of Hamiliton or something..anything but...

“My boss needs me to work Friday. Apparently they think it’s a great idea to put me as the President in charge of IT while he’s out.” Y/N says in a disappointing tone. “Im sorry, I know you wanted me to take off and I definitely wanted to for my birthday, but I guess it’s not happening.” Y/N’s heart feels heavy as she sees Tom’s equally disappointed face. “I did ask for Monday off, so whatever it is you planned we can do it then!” She mentioned, trying to cheer him up.

Tom let out a sadden sigh. He knew it wasn’t her fault, but of all days? Right when he was about to leave for Berlin in less than 4 days? Right when he and Y/N could spend another birthday together? At this point Tom felt like a hopeless man, as he stood in front of his girlfriend, who showed remorse and sorrow. Her long hair draped over her shoulders, and lips forming into that adorable pout that he could not resist. It almost made him smile, but only a little. “I know, but its not the same! You’re turning 24 and you have to work? Can’t you make some excuse?” He asks coming closer to her, smiling mischieviously.

Y/N’s brows knit together as she cautiously observes Tom’s behavior. She knew that look, that smile, that little bite lip he was pulling. “Oh no. No. No. No.” she says repeatedly, resisting the charm. “Im not gonna make some excuse.”

Tom comes even closer, his face bending down a little to meet her eye level, smiling as he runs the very tips of fingers on her sides. “C’mon darling, break the rules a little. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” He whispers kissing down her neck. “Please?”

Y/N looks up and away from those deep brown eyes, still resisting. “Tom, you know I can’t, no matter how bad I want to say yes.”

Tom draws a line up to her jawline with the tip of his nose. His breath warm against her soft skin. He hums and smiles, “Is your boss a fan of spiderman? What about his kids? I for sure remember you telling me Zach was a huge fan.”

Y/N laughs as she rolls her eyes, but she found it so endearing. The fact that he even remembered your boss’ kids’ name even though he’s probably caught a glimpse of them once or twice during her zoom meetings. “No. You are most definitely not using your celeb status to get me off from work.”

Tom shrugs his shoulders, as if it weren’t a big deal. He wasn’t one for flaunting his fame, but if it meant he could spend another day with Y/N, he would gladly use it. “Please...” he pleads one more time. “Just wanna spend time with my girl on her special day.”

Y/N thinks about it. She really did want to take off, and Tom’s efforts were quite convincing to say the least. It was only a matter of time before Tom would have to leave for Berlin, and Y/N wanted nothing more than to spend every minute with him. But Y/N also knew that if she didn’t do as she was asked by her company, the higher ups would probably have a bad impression of her or worse...fire her on the spot. Yet she knew her boss was also an understandable and chill guy. It wasn’t like she couldnt take off, just not when he’d be out at the same time, especially when she was asked to be in charge of the entire department.

Then, it hit her. She quickly excused herself out of the room to talk to her boss, and quickly came back to Tom with a smile on her face. Tom loved the way she smiled, and how her one little dimple formed on the right side of her mouth. He knew she was really happy, and he had just an idea of what it was. “You got the day off.” He answered excitedly.

“No.” Y/N responded, “But I did ask for half a day, so I’ll be free after 12.” Y/N continues as she comes closer to Tom, wrapping her hangs around his neck. “Hows that for a compromise? And I’ll do anything you wanna do for the rest of the day.”

“Good because you’re gonna love what I have in store for you.” Tom says, almost ready to brag about his well thought out romantic plan. He was ready to treat her like the queen she was on her birthday. How could anything go wrong?

On that faithful Friday, Tom woke up Y/N to many many birthday kisses. Reciting how beautiful she was, and how he couldn’t wait to celebrate with her. Reluctantly he had to let go, as she padded her way to the bathroom to get ready and head into her makeshift office for the next 5 hours.

Tom was all smiles, excited to take Y/N out. While everything felt like it was going according to plan, his mates had other news. “Ninety percent of thunderstorms?!” Tom exclaimed to his best mates in the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a major storm out there. Probably the worse that London’s had in a while.” Tuwaine informs as he reads the news on his phone.

Tom became a stuttering mess not sure how to justify or ask how that could be possible when it was beautiful this entire week. “But...But...It’s so nice out now!” He says discouraged. “No, this ruins my entire plan.”

“Hey mate, dont be like that. You can still find a way to celebrate it. Maybe you can do something romantic inside?” Harrison offers. Thats when it clicked. Harrison smiles, knowning the answer to Tom’s problem. “Yeah..make a date night here. We can set up the living room to be all fancy like.”

“Yeah! Tuwaine Harrison and I can be your waiters and make your dinner. Then just leave you two alone to do whatever you want you want.” Harry suggests.

“Just please...don’t mess up the couch.” Tuwaine groans, thinking about the potential possibity. “Im getting grossed out just thinking about it.”

Tom looks at his mates, giving thought into the new back up plan. He smiles at the group saying , “Lads, I think we got a new plan.”

Its exactly three in the afternoon when Y/N logs off from her laptop. She looks up at the window to notice how dark and dreary it was outside. Thunder was booming, and rain droplets came down hard, splashing off the window. It was her favorite kind of stay-in weather, but she hoped it didnt interfere with Tom’s plans if they had anything to do with being outside. As she opened the door, Harry and Tuwaine greeted Y/N with their own gifts and hugs. They made sure, she got dressed up, and led her downstairs. “M’Lady, your fiance will be right out.” Harry says in the most posh accent he could muck up.

Y/N rolls her eyes, and the moment she sees Tom walk into the living room, her heart skipped a beat. He dressed up with a bouquet of flowers and balloons in his hand. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He says. “You look so beautiful.”

Y/N takes the gifts from his hands, placing them on the table. She runs to Tom, kissing him passionately, savoring the sparks that came and left with every push and pull of their soft lips. “You had plans to go outside for my birthday didn’t you?” She teases.

Tom laughs, as he throws his head back. “Yeah...I was planning a picnic and everything, but thats why I made sure Plan B would just be as romantic.” He takes her hand as they sit down at the candlelit table, eating, drinking , and talking away about anything and everything. When it was sometime Harrison, Harry, and Tuwaine brought out a cake that Y/N had only been fantasizing and drooling about since May.

“No way! How did you guys order it?! I thought they didn’t do international shipping for Milk Bar!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Actually..they didn’t. But the recipe was online and we made it ourselves, with Sam’s help of course.” Harry answered, as he placed the candles in the center.

Her jaw dropped for a good ten minutes as she looked at the rainbow sprinkled cake, and the fluffy white frosting that sit perfectly in-between the layers. The crumbs on top were surprisingly uniformed and formed a perfect circle border, she was very impressed with them. Harrison lit the candles as all the boys sang along...off key of course with hints of laughter coming off every other note. Tom moved to her side, placing his arm around the back of her chair and leaned in to place a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Make a wish darling.”

Y/N looked up to see her favorite people in the entire world, smiling. “I dont need to. Everything I could possibly want is right here.” Y/N quickly blew the candles out and everyone left with their fair share of the cake. It was just Tom and Y/N left. They quickly changed out of their fancy clothes and back into their sleep wear, ending the night with watching Stardust and cuddles in the dark. Y/N tries to look behind her to see Tom’s face, who in turn looked down at her. She smiled at him whispering, “I love you.”

Tom quickly leaned in to capture her lips before answering, “I love you too. Happy Birthday Y/N.”

Taglist:

@hollanddolanfangirl @parkerspillow @joyleenl @kihyunwifes @holland-bowen @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @marvelobsessedteenager @viwihere

[justcallmehitgirl]

Good Woman Part 4 (Peter Parker x Female Reader Smut)

Summary: Peter knows he’s getting in too deep.

Word Count: 4700

Warnings: smut, language, fluff, and some angst.

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I meant to get this chapter out sooner, but I’ve been bar prepping during the day so my writing has been limited to my nights. I’m excited to see where this story goes so I hope you enjoy this chapter. Things are about to get interesting is all I can say for now. As always, thank you for reading! Your support really means a lot to me and inspires me to continue writing. 

(4/21/20): I fixed some typos, grammar mistakes, character inconsistencies, etc. from my original posting. I also made some stylistic changes.

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE // PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / STORY PAGE 

“You wanna come over and watch ‘Batman v. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ after school? I just downloaded it yesterday!” Ned exclaims, bouncing on his feet excitedly.

Peter glances over, readjusting the strap of his backpack over his shoulder as students hastily brush past them towards the entrance doors, signaling that it’s the end of another day.

He gives Ned a half-smile. “Sorry man, I can’t today. I gotta work on some stuff.”

Ned’s eyes dart around cautiously before leaning in and whispering, “Spider-Man related stuff?” 

Peter shakes his head. “No, just academic decathlon-related stuff.”

Ned knits his brows. “Academic decathlon? But you haven’t been to practice in weeks.”

Peter massages the back of his neck, his forehead creasing. “Yeah about that, I talked to Mr. Harrington and I’m stepping down from the team—”

“Dude, you can’t! You’re the only one who aced Physics, you can’t leave us!”

“Relax Ned, it’s all good cause I’ll be helping out with coaching instead.”

Ned knits his brows. “But Y/N Y/L/N’s in charge of coaching?”

“Yeah, I’m actually meeting up with Y/N after school.”

Ned stops in his tracks, placing a hand on Peter’s arm.

“Wait, I think I hallucinated for a second. What are you doing after school?”

“I’m meeting up with Y/N.”

“Holy shit, you’re seriously going to hang out with Y/N? When did you start talking to Y/N?!” 

“Chill, Ned, it’s not a big deal,” Peter shrugs, continuing to walk forward as Ned follows.

“Not a big deal? She’s one of the prettiest and smartest girls in our school. And you were just saying how hard you’ve been crushing on her for years.”

“Shhh, Ned! Besides, that was like a month ago.”

“So you don’t like her anymore?” Ned asks, raising his brows.

“I never said that.”

“So you’re in love with her?”

“Ned,” Peter groans. “It’s complicated.”

“How? When? I need details, Peter!”

Peter licks his lips, contemplating whether Ned should know the entire story. 

“She just sat next to me in art class the other day and we started talking and then she asked me for help.”

“I can’t believe she asked you for help. You know she doesn’t give any guy at this school the time of day, right?”

“Gee thanks, Ned. And so what? She has a right to spend her time as she wants. She’s a busy person with a lot of responsibilities. She wants to go Ivy League you know.”

Ned just shakes his head. “You got it bad for her, huh?”

Peter rolls his eyes, stopping outside the doors of the library.

“I’m meeting her here.”

“You are one lucky dude.”

If he only knew, Peter thinks.

“Let me come with you,” Ned beams, tugging on Peter’s arm.

“What? No way!”

“C’mon, I need some entertainment this afternoon since you’re bailing on me.”

“Ned. . .”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone then.”

Peter playfully shoves Ned’s shoulder. “Thanks man, I’ll see you later.”

Peter heads inside, taking a quick look over his shoulder to see Ned still watching him intently. He motions for Ned to leave, who throws his arms up in mock frustration as he walks away.

Peter scans the library, his breath quickening as his eyes land on you. sitting at a table by yourself. You’re sitting alone, your chin resting on the palm of your hand with your eyes cast down at a textbook. Peter’s eyes are wide as he gazes at you for a few moments, admiring your serene expression. He’s become so used to being with you alone in the confines of your cozy bedroom, where it’s just the two of you wrapped up in each other, that it’s a bit jarring seeing you in such a similar state in public.

His hands feel clammy, imagining how to interact with you outside your bubble. He wonders if you’ll figure it out. Peter knows you’re smart—he’s sure you’ll figure it out eventually. But lately he’s been wondering what sort of image you’ve built in your mind as to Spider-Man’s true identity. He wonders if you think he’s some sort of suave Tony Stark-type, or a rugged Steve Rogers. 

But he knows for a fact that you’ve probably never considered it could be him: Peter Parker. Peter Parker from Queens with no parents and no money who lives with his aunt in a cramped two-bedroom apartment. The same Peter Parker who spilled milk all over himself in the third grade, got teased every day in middle school, and was too much of a coward to tell you to your face how much he likes you.

Peter frowns and wonders if he’s actually jealous of his alter ego—his alter ego who got to hold you, kiss you, and touch you all over. He thinks he’s going crazy. But he knows that even though him and Spider-Man are one in the same, one got to call you his while the other would only ever pine for you.

The more he ponders, the more he just wants to turn right back around, walk out of the building, and watch “Batman v. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” with Ned. He briefly thinks it’ll be easier to just make up some excuse to stay away from you at school. 

But there’s a part of him that simply aches to be around you as himself and give you the things that Spider-Man can’t. His heart pounds, silently hoping that maybe one day he will.  

Peter draws in a deep breath and rakes a hand through his hair before continuing towards you. He grips the strap of his backpack. “Hey.”

You look up and smile, eyes bright. “Hi Peter.”

Peter gulps, tugging on the collar of his shirt as he slips into the seat across from you. “What’re reading?”

“U.S. Government,” you respond, lifting it up to show him the red, white, and blue cover like you’re Vanna White. 

He chuckles lightly and unzips his backpack to take out his laptop. “Who do you have?”

“Mr. Grant. He’s tough, but he really prepares you for his exams. Plus,” you lean in close, voice hushed, “I think he’s secretly a softie, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Duly noted.”

“Are you taking U.S. History now with Mrs. Taylor?”

Peter nods, booting up his laptop. 

“Focus on the chapter takeaways at the end of each section. That’s where she usually gets her exam questions from. Oh, and try to volunteer a lot. She usually bumps up your grade if she sees you making an effort.”

“That’s super helpful, thanks,” Peter smiles.

“Of course,” you smile back and close your textbook. You both just smile at each other for a moment before you blink, looking away to start up your laptop. Peter clears his throat, cheeks flushed as he looks back at his computer screen.

“So, I was thinking,” you continue, “that we could go off of Mr. Harrington’s practice questions first. Then we can look online and compile some of our own. I found a bunch of older questions that they’ve asked in the past which we can use as a guide or something. Sound good?”

“Yeah definitely. I mean, I defer to the expert.”

“Great. Oh!” You reach down to dig through your backpack. “I brought index cards. I usually write the questions down on them so it’s easier to go through later.” 

You fish out a few unopened packs before reaching across the table to offer them to Peter. He reaches over to take them, fingers lightly brushing against yours. 

“Sorry,” he blushes, gripping the index cards tightly in his grasp.

“You’re fine,” you wave. “Thanks again for helping me with this. I was thinking about it more, and I realize I may have cornered you into it. I can be a little pushy.”

“Not at all,” Peter blurts quickly. “You didn’t corner me into it and you’re not pushy. I’m happy to help, and I’m pretty glad I can apart of the team in some way so I guess I should be the one thanking you for asking me.”

You smile. “We’ll call it even then. I feel the same too, by the way. I really miss being on the team if I’m being honest.”

“Why did you quit?”

You sigh heavily and shrug. “My course load is more intense this year so I had to make some changes. Plus I tutor after school so that’s absorbed a lot of my time.”

Peter cocks his head. “You tutor?”

“Yup, sixth and seventh grade math at Queens Rock Middle,” you beam.

“That’s really cool. Do you like it?”

“I love it. I feel like I’m really making a difference in their lives, which is pretty rewarding.”

“Yeah, I. . . uh. . . I wish I was helping people like you do,” he says lamely

Well, besides saving New York from impending doom from time to time, of course, he thinks.

“Well not to sign you up for something else, but they could always use more volunteers.”

Peter squints his eyes playfully. “I feel like you have a secret agenda going on here.”

“Of course, I need to groom a protege to take my place. It’s part of my evil master plan.”

“I doubt you have an evil bone in your body.”

You raise your brow. “Wanna bet?” 

You eye him deviously, and Peter gulps—feeling a wave of tension blanket over you both. You suddenly laugh.

“I’m just kidding! Lighten up, Peter,” you tease.

Peter gives you a lopsided grin. He watches as your gaze lowers onto his mouth. Your smile falters. 

He furrows his brows. “What?”

You blink and look away. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I was just thinking we have a lot to get through this afternoon so we should get on it,” you murmur, voice tight.

Peter simply nods in response, mouth settling in a hard line as you turn your attention towards your computer screen.

You sit in silence for the next hour. Peter chews on his bottom lip while occasionally stealing a few glances over at you. You keep your eyes cast downward, attention fixed on scribbling down questions on the index cards laid out in front of you. He watches as a piece of hair falls over your face, and he clenches his fist to stop himself from reaching over to tuck it behind your ear.

“Hey Y/N.” 

You both look up. Peter’s eyes immediately narrows while his jaw tightens.

“Hi Brad,” you greet, voice even and stoic. Brad’s eyes dart between you and Peter before settling on you, ignoring Peter entirely.

“So, are you ready for the Calc test on Monday?”

You give a half-shrug and respond, “I think so, although I’m struggling a bit with derivatives.”

“Same,” Brad breathes, throwing his hands in the air. “I was struggling like crazy when Mrs. Park was first explaining it."

You chuckle, “Agreed.”

“Well, if you’re still struggling with it, w-would you maybe want to study together this weekend? I’m a big fan of study buddies.”

Peter grips his pen tightly, feeling it start to snap in his hand. He wants to shout, Back off, Brad. She’s mine. Peter immediately admonishes himself—recognizing that such an outburst would be entirely weird and inappropriate. He knows you aren’t his, or even Spider-Man’s. You didn’t belong to anybody.

“Oh that’s so nice, I really appreciate the offer, Brad. But I prefer to study by myself. I’m not really great studying with other people, tend to get too distracted and stuff.”

Peter can sense that you notice Brad’s look of defeat so you add politely, “I’ll definitely let you know if I change my mind though.”

“Yeah, of course. It’s no problem, Y/N. I’m free whenever.”

You nod and plaster a smile on your face. Peter’s forehead creases as he watches Brad continue to gawk at you. You blink and smack your lips together.  “So. . . um, me and Peter have to get back to writing up questions for academic decathlon.”

Your voice shakes Brad out of his stupor, face flushing. “Oh yeah sure, I’ll. . . uh. . . see you later.”

He waves awkwardly and hastily scurries away. You shake your head and continue working.

“I think he likes you,” Peter pipes in, eyes cast down as he busily scribbles on an index card.

You glance up, nose crinkling. “Brad? No way.”

“He was practically drooling over you,” Peter remarks.

“You think so?”

Peter purses his lips. “I’m sure of it.”

You smile. “Brad’s not a bad guy.”

“Are you. . . like. . . interested?”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “No, not at all. Brad’s nice, but I wouldn’t want to go out with him.”

“Oh, okay,” Peter mumbles.

“Plus, just between us, I—I’m already seeing someone actually.”

Peter perks up at your response, but he keeps his eyes cast down. “Really? Do I know him?”

“No, he doesn’t go to Midtown.”

“College guy, huh?”

You laugh. “Umm… no. Well, I don’t think so actually.”

“Is it serious?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, he sounds like a really lucky guy.”

“No, I'm pretty sure I’m the lucky one,” you beam, a flush creeping on your face as you turn your attention back to your index cards. 

Peter quickly glances at you while the corner of his mouth subtly lifts.

—

Peter does not move at first, body pressed near your window as he observes you.

You’re lying on your bed, a pillow tucked under your chest as your eyes scan your computer screen. He takes in the sight of you, from your oversized sweatshirt to your form-fitting black leggings. You toy with a lock of hair, the light emanating from the computer softly illuminating your face.

Peter finally lifts his hand to lightly knock, watching your head jerk in his direction. You smile brightly, waving your hand to motion for him to enter. He obeys, pushing open the window and slipping inside. You quickly shut your laptop close, moving it aside. You sit up as he approaches you, lifting up his mask to give you a kiss.

“How are you?” you ask against his lips.

“Better now that I’m with you.”

“You’re such a sap,” you tease.

“I can’t help it, I’m with the girl of my dreams.”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Are you just trying to butter me up?”

“Me? Not at all.”

You shake your head and look away bashfully.

“Hey,” he says, lifting your chin up with his finger so you’re looking at him. “I want to show you something.”

You tilt your head, and he grabs your hand. You stand up, and he leads you towards the window, gently tugging you along as he pulls his mask back down. You turn your head, and quickly glance over at your bedroom door. Will your parents notice that you’re gone?, you think. Would they freak out? Call the cops? Should you risk it? 

But those thoughts are quickly squashed by the warm feeling in your chest as you bend down to crawl through the window, his hands lightly grasping your hips in support. As your feet land on the fire escape, your body straightens, your eyes looking up at the night sky.

Peter stands beside you, and you turn, brows quirked. “Where are we going?”

“Do you trust me?”

You nod in response, and he pulls you close to him. He wraps his arms around your waist. “Hold onto me,” he whispers, voice hot and soft against the shell of your ear.

You loop your arms around his neck. “Okay,” you breathe. 

You glance down, body tensing and bottom lip trembling. 

“Are you okay?” He runs his arms over your hips.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Ready?”

“No,” you chuckle nervously.

Peter peers down at you, his voice soft and soothing to compensate for his covered face. “Hey, I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

You reluctantly nod and Peter exhales deeply. He takes a few steps backward before leaping off the fire escape, your face immediately burying in the crook of his neck as you shut your eyes tightly. Your hair whips in the wind as Peter swings over the bustling city below, your grip tightening around his shoulders as you let out a surprised shriek at he momentum.

“Don’t be afraid!” Peter shouts, glancing down at you.

You breathe in deeply before lifting your head and opening your eyes. You blink as you hesitantly looks down, your eyes roaming over the cars zipping through the streets, the lights shining from street lamps, and the crowds of people drifting down the sidewalks. 

“Everything looks so tiny,” you murmur, awe transforming your face.

“It’s cool, right?”

You look up, your eyes glistening as you nod excitedly. He grins underneath his mask, tightening his hold on you as he continues swinging from building to building. Your wide eyes dart around, mesmerized by the sight as you clutch him close as your heart beats wildly.

Neither of you had been in love before, but the thought crosses both your minds: “Maybe this is love.”

He feels you nuzzle your face against his chest, your body still and relaxed as you continue absorbing the sights and sounds surrounding you.

Peter eventually slows his movements, spotting a good place to stop and rest. 

Once his feet meet the rooftop, you untangle yourself from his arms, jumping up and down exuberantly. 

“Holy shit, that was amazing! I can’t believe you can do that all the time!”

“It’s one of the perks of the job.”

“Does it ever get old?”

Peter shakes his head. “No way, sometimes I’m just jumping out of my skin to get out here. To be above the ground, it makes me feel like a bigger part of the world.”

“Thank you for this.” 

“I know I can’t give you much right now, and I can’t take you out on dates dressed like. . . this, but I wanted to show you a little piece of my world.”

“I really appreciate that.” 

You pause for a moment, your forehead creasing before you continue, “Do you think you’d do this forever? The whole superhero thing I mean?” 

“I honestly I don’t know. I feel like I should though. You see, when you can do the things that I can do and you don’t and then the bad things happen. . . they happen because you didn’t do anything to stop them.”

“That sounds like quite a lot to carry on your shoulders.”

Peter gives you a half-shrug. “You get used to it.”

You nod before looking away, your head tilting as you gaze up at the dark sky. 

Peter watches you, your mouth 

“It’s quite a sight,” you murmur.

His eyes never leave you as he responds, “It is.”

You hug yourself, your body shivering as a cool autumn breeze envelopes you.

“Cold?”

“Just a little.”

He pulls you into his arms, hugging you close as he strokes your back. He feels you relax against him, enjoying the warmth emanating from his suit.   

“My brown-eyed boy,” you hum softly.

You both begin swaying to the tune. Peter’s movements are a little clumsy, but your smiles encourage him to continue, even extending his arm to spin you around, earning him a giggle. 

He slides his hand down your back, his fingers brushing against your bottom. As he starts to move his hand, you look up.

“You don’t have to stop. I like it when you touch me,” you whisper. 

Peter licks his lips, feeling the familiar heat rising in his belly. His eyes dart around the empty rooftop over to the surrounding buildings.

“But. . . “

You take his hand, placing it over your covered center. He tilts his head, pulling his mask above his mouth as his throat bobs.

“Are you sure? What if someone sees?”

“I don’t care. I want you,” you say, your voice husky.

Peter just nods dumbly, gently grabbing the back of your neck to press his lips against yours. The kiss is slow and soft, his hand resting below your ear as your breaths mingle. You press into him, your heart beating rapidly in tandem with his. Your tongues dance for dominance, the intensity building as your hand travels down his spine, his body quivering from your touch.

You pull your mouth away, turning your body in his arms to press your back against his chest. He runs his hands along your body, feeling his way from your waist up to your chest. You turn your head to kiss him again, moaning in his mouth as he massages your breast through your sweatshirt. 

Your lips fall away from his, your mouth gaping as his other hand hovers over the waistband of your leggings.

“Please,” you whine. 

Without missing a beat, he dips his hand beneath the fabric, his teasing fingers making you tremble. You lean your head back to rest on his shoulder as he runs his fingers over lips, parting them slowly. He start to massage your clit, your wetness trickling onto his hand to help his movements. 

The hand massaging your breast snakes underneath your sweatshirt, your nipple hardening instantly under his thumb. You arch your back, pushing your ass against him.

You grip onto his forearms as you rock against his hand, increasing the pressure on your clit. Your eyes flutter open, your eyes fixed on the stars above you.

His fingers briefly leave your clit as he pushes them inside you. Your face flushes as your tight opening clenches around him, his touch drawing even more slickness from your folds.

“Do this feel good?” he asks, his voice strained.

You nod. “You make me feel so good,” you moan. “You make me feel beautiful.” 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

He removes his slick fingers from inside you, and you softly mewl. He continues caressing your clit, finger rubbing in steady circles. You tighten your grip on his arms, body tense. You grind erratically against him, his hard length nestled between your cheeks. 

You start to babble incoherent words, filled with breathy gasps and moans.

“I want you to come for me,” he whispers, quickening his movements on your clit.

He places his lips on the side of your throat, licking and sucking your pulse point. You cry out loudly as you start to shake in his arms as you cum. He slips his fingers back inside of you, and your pussy clenches around him. He rocks against you, increasing the pressure against his crotch.

His lips leave your skin, head falling forward as his orgasm follows. He grunts, thrusting against you in short jerks as he releases.

He holds you firmly against him, cupping your pussy in his hand as his thrusts slow. Your body slumps against him,  He turns you around in his arms to softly kiss you, as you practically melt in his embrace.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time,” you smile dreamily.

He smooths his hand over your hair. “You’d be the first.”

“You’re just being modest. I bet you get all the ladies in real life.”

Peter chuckles. “Maybe in a different life.”

“In a different life, huh? Well maybe in a different life I can say that I met you somewhere? Like when those couples say they didn’t meet on Tinder or something.”

He smiles. “Okay, where did we meet?”

You bite your lip. “Umm, how about on the bus?”

“The bus?”

“Yes, ‘Speed’ was one of my favorite movies growing up so I thought it was kind of romantic that Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock got together at the end.”

He shakes his head and chuckles. He strokes your lower back. “Mental noted. Please continue.”

“Okay, hmm. . . how about I was coming home from school one day. All the seats were taken so I had to stand. . . but then you saw me and you were such a gentleman that you gave me your seat. Then we introduced ourselves, and you complimented my sweatshirt, which happened to be my favorite Mickey Mouse one.”

He hums in approval as you continue, “And then you saw the math book in my hands and—”

“And we talked about your love for math,” he finishes. 

You look up and grin widely. “Yes, exactly. And then I noticed your Star Wars shirt and we talked about how I haven’t seen the new Star Wars movies.”

“Wait, how have you not seen the new Star Wars movies?”

“I’m a sucker for the originals. I still refuse to watch the prequels.”

“Blasphemy I tell you,” he teases. “But please, keep going.”

“But alas, we arrived at my stop so I had to leave, but you followed me even though your stop was blocks away. You walked me to the doorstep of my apartment building and then we exchanged numbers.”

“And we texted all day and night,” Peter murmurs.

“And then I saw you on the bus the next day, and the next day, and the next day. And then you finally asked me out.”

“I like our story.”

“Yeah, me too,” you yawn.

“C’mon, let’s get you home. It’s getting late and I gotta get out of this suit,” he softly laughs, placing a delicate kiss on your temple.

You knit your brows together, opening your mouth but the words fall from your lips as realization dawns on. You glance down at his crotch, your cheeks reddening.

“Are you sure you can take me home in that. . . state?”

“I’m not sure, this has never happened before,” he blushes.

You bite your lip to stop the giggle from escaping your mouth. You place a chaste kiss on his lips as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Ready?”

You nod as he pulls his mask over the rest of his face. You inhale deeply as he leaps from the building your body still buzzing from your orgasm. You close your eyes, resting your head against him as the wind rustles through your hair.

Once Peter lands on your fire escape, he nuzzles his face against your hair before easing you down gently, his arms still wrapped around you. 

“When will I see you again?”

He strokes the side of your face, closing your eyes as you lean into his touch.

“I don’t know. My patrolling schedule is. . . unpredictable.”

“Okay,” you smile weakly, shoulders slumping.

Peter bows his head, wishing he could wipe the disappointed look from your face. “In our story, I take you to my favorite pizza spot.”

"Go on.”

“And then we get ice-cream. . . go to Astoria Park and sit in one of those benches to watch the sunset.”

“Does this date end with a goodnight kiss at my front door?”

“Sure. . . then I can awkwardly explain to your parents why I’m kissing their daughter.”

“My parents would love you.”

“They would?”

“Mhmm, as long as you don’t tell them that we sneak around at night, of course.”

He laughs. “Sounds fair.”

Peter wants that more than anything. He craves normalcy with you wants—he wants to meet your parents, walk you home from school, take you to the movies. He wants you to hang out with him and Ned and show you all the Star Wars prequels. He wants to call you his. 

Peter closes his eyes, hoping this never ends. But soon another thought creeps up in his mind that makes his throat feel tight and chest hurt. He frowns, instinctively clutching you closer in his arms. 

He knows that everything ends eventually.

Tag list: @thatpeterparkerfan / @professionalphangirluniverse / @julimelodi / @sighharrington / @merelymarianne / @soloseb / @superspideyy / @babyjesuscat / @stardust-ghost / @oh-annaa / @iloveyouironman / @nyeddleblog / @bloominess / @itsjust-evalyn / @shawnmendes-thewriter / @cotton-octopus / @ghostofdrfluke / @imofficiallyobsessed / @charismas-world / @f1zzy-izzy / @kissykissykissykissykissy / @thepeterfuckinparker / @ahajalen1 / @vhgirlforever / @sargentjamesbarnes / @icecoldghost / @space-princesssss / @undiadeestos / @teenageeggsneckpasta / @ lindabanri02222 / @franbway / @5sosuperntaural / @spookyanairwin / @spideyluke / @writing-panda-uwu / @yanderepeterparker / @tomshufflepuff / @slutforbuckybarnes / @mindset-jupiter / @mutuallynotmutual / @maybemona

[orangeoctopi7]

Better to Say Too Much

“Say What You Mean to Say” 

Chapter 1

The attic bedroom was filled with awkward silence after Stan forced them to go to bed early. They each lay in their beds, trying to look occupied with reading or knitting, but still glancing over at the other every few seconds. Finally, they both couldn't take the quiet any more.

"Dipper, I'm--"

"Mabel, are you--"

They both laughed awkwardly.

"You first." Dipper offered.

"I… I'm really worried about Bill coming back." Mabel admitted, "you got really hurt the last time, and you could've been hurt way worse if we hadn't been able to stop him at the puppet show. I don't want something like that to happen again. It's more important than ever that we look out for each other."

"It'll be ok, Mabel." Dipper assured her. "Bill can't get to us as long as we're inside the barrier."

A small smile spread across her lips, but she didn't look completely comforted. "What were you gonna say?"

Dipper fidgeted with his sheets. "I was gonna ask… are you still mad at me?"

Mabel glanced back down at her knitting. She was, a little bit. But she couldn’t say that after she’d just told her brother how important it was that they look out for each other. “Well… I haven’t changed my mind about how I feel about you taking Ford’s apprenticeship. But, I know you need more time to think about it, so… I’m just not gonna talk about it for now.”

“So that’s a yes?” Dipper read between the lines.

The colorful girl frowned. “Blargh! I don’t wanna be mad at you, especially not right now, but I just-- I don’t want things to change! I like the way my life is now!”

“Things can’t stay frozen like this forever Mabel, that’s just how life works. Things change.”

Mabel buried herself into her blankets. “I guess.” She mumbled sullenly. “Let’s just not talk about it right now, OK? I know you want time to think about it.”

“Ok, but we do need to talk about this at some point.”

“I already told you what I think about it.”

“Yeah, but we need to talk about it when we’re both calm and not super emotional. I’m not gonna make a decision without your input.”

Mabel poked her head back out of her blankets. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Dipper affirmed,  “You were right, this affects you too.”

That certainly made Mabel feel a little better. But it also made her a little anxious. She was going to have to come up with a calm, rational, Dipper-friendly explanation for why she thought the apprenticeship with Ford was a bad idea beyond just ‘You are my brother and I don’t want you to leave me’.

* * *

Sunlight was just barely beginning to filter through the darkness when Stan was awoken by the sound of power tools the next morning. He groggily rose out of bed, wondering if Soos had come in early and started on some repairs around the shack. It wouldn’t be the first time. As the racket continued, Stan once again found himself wondering how the heck the kids could sleep through all this noise. Upon reaching the gift shop, Stan found not Soos, but Ford, in the middle of messing with the security cameras. 

“...Did you even sleep last night?” Stan asked, still half-asleep.

“No, I spent most of the night attempting to crack open the containment unit.” Ford replied without turning around. Apparently he’d seen his brother coming on the security feed. “I only managed to expand the crack another millimeter or so, but it’s clear that Mabel was right. It’s curing more slowly within the dome.”

“Uh... “ Whatever his brother had just said went right over Stan’s still sleep-addled head. “What’re you doin’ up here?”

“You said I could use your security cameras to monitor the secret entrance to the lab." Ford reminded him. "You also said if I stayed in here, it would attract too much attention. So I'm rerouting the feed to the den."

"I said you could watch the video feed from my office.”

"It takes exactly forty-three seconds for me to run downstairs from your office to the secret entrance. In that time someone could input the code and be halfway down the elevator. I'm going to be set up right on the other side of that door." Ford pointed to the Employees Only sign that led into the den.

"Why don't you just change it over to a wireless feed, while you're at it." Stan rolled his eyes. 

"That’s what I’m doing." Ford answered, not realizing his brother's question had been both rhetorical and sarcastic. 

“Fine. Just don’t forget, you’re supposed to call Dipper ‘n Mabel’s parents today.” Stan reminded him.

Ford checked his watch. “I doubt they’re up at this hour.”

“Then why the heck are you up doin’ this!?”

“I need to finish before you open this place up to tours.”

Stan gave a roaring yawn. “Oh yeah, that reminds me.” He taped an Out of Order sign up on the vending machine. “So you don’t come charging in guns ablazing every time some schmuck wants a cheese log.”

“Good thinking.” Ford said simply.

“Welp, I’m already up. Might as well start makin’ breakfast.” Stan scratched his rear and turned to leave. He almost asked Ford if he wanted anything, but thought better of it. His brother at least came upstairs to have dinner with the family most days, but Stan never saw him eat any other meals. Dipper had mentioned something about nutrition pills at some point. Stan thought that was an affront against nature and taste buds, but hey, if it meant one less mouth to feed, he wasn’t going to complain.

* * *

Ford did finish his upgrade of the security cameras before the Mystery Shack opened, although it hardly mattered. The only people there that morning were Wendy and Soos.

“Aw man, the vending machine’s out of order again?” Wendy complained when she saw the sign taped up on its front.

“Eh, not exactly.” Stan shrugged. “My brother’s got some super-dangerous ball of glitter-glue down there, and this jerk called Bill wants to steal it. I figured it was safer just to not let anybody use the vending machine. I did the same thing right after those agents started snooping around.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot there really is a secret passage back there!” Wendy recalled  “That’s so weird, I had a dream about that last night.” 

The Employees Only door slammed open and Ford loomed into the gift shop.

"Oh, hey Stan Two." Wendy greeted him, as if it were perfectly normal for your boss' long-lost twin to suddenly barge in on a conversation.

"Tell me everything you can remember about this dream." The old researcher demanded.

"Well, that's what was really weird about it. I don't normally remember my dreams, but this one was really vivid." Wendy explained.

"Yes, and what happened?"

"Uh, I opened up the secret passage behind the vending machine… then there were like stairs leading to an elevator? That was really weird. Then when I got out of the elevator there were like, I dunno, balloons or bubbles or something everywhere? Dipper was down there, but he was weird too. Kinda like when he went nuts during Mabel's puppet show last month? Anyway, he handed me my axe and wanted me to start popping the bubbles, or whatever they were. Like I said, man, it was weird."

"How did it end?" Ford asked frantically.

"Uh, I think I woke up after he gave me the axe."

"Did you make any deals? Did you shake his hand!?"

"Nnnnnooo?" Wendy replied, starting to feel a little weirded out.

Ford grabbed her by the shoulders. "This is gravely serious. Your dreams were invaded last night by Bill Cipher."

"Wait, you mean like that jerk Mabel needed the unicorn hair to get rid of?"

"Yes, and he's trying to convince you to cut open the rift I already sealed! What exactly did he say to you?"

"Who, you mean the Dipper in my dream?"

"Yes, I'm almost certain that was Bill in disguise. Did he have yellow eyes?"

Wendy looked genuinely spooked now. "How… how did you know that?"

"What did he say to you?" Ford repeated forcefully.

"Relax, Captain Paranoid." Stan stepped between his brother and his employee. 

"I am not paranoid!!" Ford shouted. "There is no possible way she could just coincidentally dream all those details, it has to be Bill!"

"I know, alright, but you're freaking her out!"

To the untrained eye, Wendy just looked mildly perturbed, but Stan had known her long enough to know mildly perturbed for Wendy was on the verge of a panic attack for an average person.

Ford tried to reel in his frantic, fearful energy, but he still needed to know what happened. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to frighten you, it's just--"

"I'm not frightened." Wendy insisted. "It's just a lot to take in, ya know?" She paused and thought back to her dream. "He just handed me my axe, and said 'Have at it, Red!' and that's not how Dipper talks to me, so I woke up."

Stan could practically see the gears turning in Ford’s head as the old researcher tried to guess what Bill was up to. The old conman was pretty worried about the whole thing himself; he honestly hadn’t thought Bill would bother anyone outside their immediate family, but he wasn’t about to let any of that show. Wendy was freaked out enough as it was. 

“Thank you… Wendy, was it?” Ford finally said. “For now, you needn’t worry. Just be cautious if you have any more strange dreams: don’t shake anyone’s hand, don’t make any deals, and don’t burst any bubbles, balloons, or other dome-like things.”

“Yeah, sure.” Wendy nodded, which Stan knew was probably the strongest affirmative she’d ever give any adult. 

“Do you dudes wanna hear about the weird dream I had last night?” Soos asked.

“Yes.” Ford said gravely.

“Oh boy.” Stan just rolled his eyes.

“Ok, so I was at Beryl City Nerdic Con with Melody, only she wasn’t actually there in person, she was just there on my laptop that I had to carry around with me, and I was trying to go to a panel where Mr. Pines was the guest speaker, except the room kept on getting changed, so I was running all over the convention center, but I had to be careful not to drop my laptop, or Melody couldn’t see what was happening. And then they moved the panel to a tent outside…”

Stan pulled Wendy aside while Soos continued the ramble on. “Hey, kid, we’re pretty slow today, so if you’re not feelin’ great after last night--”

“I’m fine, Mr. Pines.” The girl insisted. But the fact that she’d passed up an opportunity to get out of work for the day was practically a blinking sign advertising the fact that she was definitely not fine. 

“If you say so.” Stan folded his arms. “But like I said, we’re slow. Do me a favor an’ go check on the kids. I haven’t seen either of ‘em all morning.”

“Yeah, alright.” She walked through the Employees Only door and into the main part of the house. Stan was sure Dipper and Mabel would do a better job of explaining what was going on and comforting the teen than his brother had. Of course, Ford had set the bar pretty low.

“... So I spent like, the next twenty minutes of the dream working on this dude’s engine. And when I’m finally done, instead of asking him to give me a ride to the panel, I just keep walking! I didn’t even realize I could’ve asked him that until we were like a block down the street and Melody brought it up! So then it started raining--”

“Soos,” Ford finally interrupted the handyman’s long winded retelling. “Were there yellow eyes at any point in this dream?” 

“Uh, not that I remember.”

“Did you ever shake anyone’s hand?”

“Nah, I had to keep holding on to Melody’s laptop.”

“Did you make a deal with anyone?”

“Well, I did start working at that restaurant, and fix that one dude’s truck. But those weren’t really deals, I don’t think. I just saw jobs that needed to be done.”

“Then I think I can say with certainty that Bill Cipher did not enter your dreams last night.”

“Heheh, what a relief! So anyway, once we got to the tent where the panel was being held…”

* * *

Mabel had been texting back and forth with Pacifica since she’d gotten up that morning. 

Pacifica, I have a weird question for you

I thought I told you to delete this number

And for the last time, it wasn’t actually a hug

No, not about you and diper

*Dipper

Have your parents been acting weird lately?

What do you mean they’re never weird

They’re the opposite of weird

They’re just really rich and controlling

I mean have they been acting different from usual?

No they’re just mad at me

 why?

Its a long story. Come over later and ill tell you about it!!!

Can’t

I’m super grounded after the photoshoot thing

Do we need to come rescue you???!?!

No please don’t I’ll just get in more trouble

:( :( :(

Well let me know if you have any weird dreams or anything

Why what’s going on?

I don’t think its safe to talk bout it over phone

Are you ok?

:D :D :D :D 

Yeah im fine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I helped Grunkle Ford set up a protection spell

You remember he was the one you said looked like hot Stan

OMG SHUT UP!!

The colorful girl hadn’t heard back from her crazy rich rival since that last comment, but at least it seemed nothing was up with the Northwests. Mabel sighed as she hugged Waddles and scrolled back up through their conversation. She may have stretched the truth a bit with Pacifica. “Fine” probably wasn’t the right word for how she felt. But she didn’t want her friend to worry about her. 

She was interrupted from her thoughts by a knock on the door. 

“What up, dudes?” Wendy called from the other side.

Mabel finally got up out of bed and opened the door to her teenaged friend. “Wendy! What are you doing up here?”

“Stan asked me to come check on you guys.” She shrugged. “Hey, where’s Dipper?”

“I think he’s on the roof. He… he needed some time to himself for thinking.”

“Well, he’d better be done, ‘cuz I need to talk to him.” Wendy said sternly.

Mabel led the ginger teen over to the nearest window with access to the roof. It wasn’t necessary, Wendy knew her way around the Shack, but the colorful girl needed an excuse to get up and out of her room. Once Wendy was outside, Waddles started thumping down the stairs, probably in search of a late breakfast. Mabel followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

Stan had made bacon and cheesy eggs, although they’d gone cold by the time Mabel reached them. Oh well, it was nothing a few seconds in the microwave couldn’t fix. The girl scooped the eggs into a bowl and nuked them for a few seconds. Waddles sniffed at the food on the table above him.

“No Waddles!” Mabel admonished him, pushing away the plate of bacon. “That’s cannibalism!”

Once it was warmed, she scooped half her eggs directly into the pig’s mouth, then proceeded to eat the rest herself. After finishing breakfast, she made a beeline for the livingroom and the TV, intent on watching Saturday morning cartoons. The den and the livingroom kind of bled into each other, and when Mabel sat down on the recliner in front of the TV, she couldn’t help but notice Ford sitting at the card table around the corner, intently watching his own screen. 

The girl wondered if this was the right time to finally confront Ford about the apprenticeship thing. They were alone in the house at the moment, but he looked busy. Then she remembered. Ford had said he wanted to watch the security cameras to make sure no tourists tried to get into the lab today! Mabel knew better than to try and interrupt that, so she just flipped on the TV instead. 

The sound of the TV turning on, however, alerted Ford to her presence. The old researcher looked up at her, then back down at his screen, then glanced at the door, back at the screen, and finally back up at Mabel again.

"Mabel, may I speak with you for a moment?" He asked.

Mabel's brain tripped all over itself. This was her chance, but what was she supposed to say? How could she explain to her Grunkle how what he was offering Dipper was hurting her? Would he get mad at her? Was she going to lose control of her emotions and get mad at him?

Her apprehension must have been apparent, because Ford crossed the room and knelt down beside her, getting on her eye level. "I want you to know, it was never my intention to hurt you by offering Dipper the apprenticeship. I guessed it might upset you, but I didn't realize just how strongly you'd react, or how terrible my timing was. I'm afraid I can't give you the same kind of personalized education I can give your brother, the kind of education you deserve, but you're welcome to stay here too, if you wish."

The girl was stunned, unsure of how to react. Her thoughts, which had already been scrambling to figure out how to confront Ford, were knocked completely off-course. Wasn’t this what she wanted? More time in Gravity Falls? More time to spend with her new family and friends? More time to have adventures with her brother? Or had her new Grunkle’s offer just made her situation worse? If Mabel stayed in Gravity Falls, she wouldn’t get to go to school with her old friends, wouldn’t get to go home to her mom and dad, or her cat, back in Piedmont. 

“...Mabel?” Ford asked when she hesitated.

“I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but you’re not!” She finally cried. “You’re making me choose between my brother and my parents!”

“Mabel, no--”

“Yes, you are!” She maintained, with tears in her eyes. “I know you’ve been alone for a long time, and you’re mad at your brother, b-but you’ve got to understand how hard a decision you’re asking us to make!”

The old researcher was obviously distressed that he’d made his niece cry, but he went on talking anyway.

“Mabel, I do realize how difficult a decision this is... and you don’t have to make that decision right away. I just-- just realized it wasn’t fair to not at least give you that option. And I know you’re capable. You’ve already made several difficult decisions this summer, from what I’ve heard.”

“So what’s one more, right?” She cried indignantly, wiping furiously away at her tears and storming off. 

Unfortunately, the sounds of their argument had attracted Stan. He poked his head in from the gift shop just in time to see Mabel’s aggrieved exit. The old conman entered the room, and if looks could kill, Ford would have been dead on the spot. 

“What. Did you. Do?” 

* * *

The roof held its fair share of bad memories for Dipper. It was where Wax Sherlock Holmes had tried to kill him, where Tyrone had melted, where Bill had first tried to make a deal with him. But there were some good memories too. It was where he’d first started hanging out with Wendy, where he’d lit off fireworks with Grunkle Stan and Mabel, where he still liked to go when he needed someplace to think. It was some peace and quiet away from his raucous family members. Dipper definitely got why Ford spent so much time in the basement. 

Today it was especially nice. The weather was cooling as fall approached, and a pleasant breeze whispered through the treetops. The sun-warmed shingles were just the right temperature, making a comfortable seat. 

Dipper needed the tranquil environment. He had a lot on his mind, and a big decision to make. Today was the first time since Ford had offered him the apprenticeship that he had an opportunity to stop and really consider his options. So far, the boy had compiled a detailed pros and cons chart, and was currently in the process of reviewing that list and giving each item a weighted score. Pros like “Don’t have to ride bus back to Piedmont” only got one point, while pros like “Get to explore UFO” got ten. The cons were rated on a similar scale, with the worst one, “Don’t go home with Mabel”, getting a score of eleven, because it was a very bad con. 

“Hmmm, get to hang out with Wendy after school… Would that be a six or a seven? Mabey an eight?” He mumbled to himself.

“I’d go with eight. I might be biased though.” Wendy’s voice replied behind him.

The boy’s face flushed the same shade of red as the teen’s hair. “W-wendy! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you there! It’s not--I’m not--I just wanna hang out as friends, I swear!”

“Don’t sweat it, man!” She punched him playfully in the arm. “I’m the one who snuck up on you.”

“Heh.” Dipper forced out an awkward chuckle. “Did you come up here to escape work?”

“Eh, sorta.” Wendy waggled her hand in a so-so motion. “Stan asked me to check on you dudes.”

“Oh. Yeah, everyone’s kinda freaked out right now ‘cuz Bill showed up yesterday. He tried to make a deal with Mabel and Stan, and then when he couldn’t, he got angry and started making threats. Ford’s got something he wants, but it’s safe, thanks to that unicorn hair you and Mabel got the other day. We just have to make sure it stays that way.”

“Yyyeah, that’s kinda the other reason I’m up here.” Wendy admitted.

Dipper turned his full attention to her. He hadn’t seen Wendy this nervous since they almost got their memories wiped. 

“So… I had a weird dream last night. I didn’t really think anything of it until I talked to Ford about it when I got into work just now… but… he seemed to think it was that Bill guy, and honestly… I think he’s right.”

Dipper’s eyes widened with fear. “Ohmigosh, a-are you ok? What happened? Did he try to make a deal with you? Did he threaten you or your family?”

“Nah, dude, he just… It was weird, I guess in the dream he was pretending to be you? I went down into the Shack’s basement and it was filled with these bubbles of glitter, or something, and you were down there, but your eyes were yellow and you were calling me weird names. You gave me my axe and said ‘Have at it’. Or, Bill did, I guess.”

The breeze that had once felt pleasant was now sending shivers up Dipper’s spine. “The rift! He was trying to get you to cut open the rift!”

"Yeah, that's what your Uncle said. Uh, and that is…?” Wendy asked.

The boy hesitated. Ford had asked Dipper not to tell anyone about the rift, not even Stan or Mabel… but that had almost led to Bill tricking them yesterday. He probably would have, if not for Stan’s instincts. It would probably be best if he told Wendy, right? He’d already kinda spilled the beans, after all.

“The portal that Stan used to bring Ford home created a rip in the universe.” Dipper explained. “Bill wants it so he can invade our world. Me and Ford sealed it up with an alien adhesive, but it’s taking longer to dry than we thought, so it’s still vulnerable. And Bill will try to convince anyone to break it open.”

“Yeah, well he wasn’t all that convincing, if you ask me.” Wendy said flippantly.

Dipper thought back to that night over a month ago on this very roof. “He wasn’t that convincing the first time he tried to trick me either. But then he showed up when I was desperate, and…” He suddenly understood why Ford had been so reluctant to share his past with Bill. Dipper couldn’t reveal such an embarrassing secret, especially not to Wendy. Still, it was probably the most effective way to explain what Bill was capable of to her.

“You remember what happened at Mabel’s puppet show, last month?”

“Yeah dude, you were so sleep deprived you started acting like the villain from a bad slasher flick.”

“That… wasn’t sleep deprivation. Bill possessed me.”

“Wait, what?” Wendy asked in disbelief.

“I-I screwed up. He said he’d give me the answers I was looking for, and all he wanted in return was a puppet. But I was the puppet!”

Wendy stared at him in horror. Dipper’s stomach flip-flopped. Was she going to tell him off for being stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trick? Was she afraid that Bill would come back and possess him again? Did she even believe him, or did she think he’d finally lost his mind?

“That wasn’t you…” she finally spoke in a low voice  “...and I didn’t even realize… no, I knew something was off, but… Oh my gosh, Dipper, I’m so sorry, I should’ve done something!” 

“What? No, Wendy, it’s not your fault!” he assured her. “I just wanted to warn you! Bill might come back, you need to know how he works, what he might try to do.”

The ginger teen stared out over the forest with a far-away look, her knuckles bone-white as she tightly gripped the edge of the roof. Dipper realized her gaze was pointed towards her house.

“Hey, uh, if I were to get my hands on some more unicorn hair, would your uncle be able to, I dunno, protect my house the way he did to the Shack?”

“Uh, I think so…” Dipper replied. “I’d have to ask him first.”

“Great. You talk to Ford. I gotta go talk to Stan. I think I’m gonna take the day off after all.”

* * *

Stan had just finished up a tour with a young couple who seemed more interested in each other than the exhibits. Eh, he’d take what he could get. Maybe he could set up a secluded corner of the gift shop and charge them to use the “Mystery Make-out Cave”. 

He’d been about to move the T-shirt rack to start just that, when he heard a raised voice coming from the den. Stan turned up his hearing aide and leaned his ear against the door. It was Mabel, and she sounded upset. Next, he heard the long-winded ramblings of Ford. Whatever his big-mouthed brother had said obviously didn’t make Mabel feel any better. Stan poked his head into the room to see what all the commotion was about, just in time to see her fleeing the room. He’d only caught a glimpse of her face before she rounded the corner, but it was enough to see the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“What. Did you. Do?” Stan asked, his voice dangerously low.

Ford at least had the decency to feel guilty about making his niece cry. “I-I just told her she was welcome to stay here with Dipper during his apprenticeship, but for some reason beyond my understanding--”

“You did what!?” Stan growled.

“You’re the one who told me I was excluding Mabel by not extending her an offer as well!”

“You were supposed to call their parents first, genius!”

“You never said anything about which one I was supposed to do first!”

Part of Stan wanted to shake his brother, ask him how a guy with 12 PhD’s could be so stupid. But the other part of Stan knew Ford had always been like this. You had to give him ridiculously specific instructions when it came to social interactions, or he’d completely mess them up. Sometimes he’d mess them up even with instructions. It was Stan’s own fault for not saying “First you have to call the kids’ parents and get their permission. Then, there won’t be a then because there’s no way on Earth they’ll ever agree to it!”

Instead, Stan just pinched the bridge of his nose, massaged his eyes in a futile attempt to stop the oncoming stress-headache, and heaved a sigh of frustration.  

“You know what your problem is? You’re treatin’ these kids like adults.”

“You see that as a problem?” Ford raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps your problem is that you treat them too much like children.”

“I don’t mean talkin’ down to them, or babying them!” Stan clarified. “I mean tryin’ to give them a normal-ish childhood! I mean not expectin’ them to grow up too fast! I mean not dumping huge problems or decisions on them! I mean lettin’ them enjoy bein’ young while they still can!”

“Normal is overrated.” Ford replied coolly. “And I still fail to see why they can’t enjoy being young here in Gravity Falls.”

Stan gave up. Why did he ever think his brother would listen to him? There was obviously only one way he was gonna make Ford see reason.

“Alright, time for you to call the kids parents.”

“I’ll call them after you shut down the gift shop for the day.” Ford said, looking back down at the security feed on his future-tech screen. 

“Quit putting it off, Sixer! I’ll watch the gift shop. You go call. Now.” Stan insisted forcefully.

Thankfully, Ford relented. Just as he was about to enter the kitchen to access the phone there, Stan stopped him.

“Their numbers are on the fridge. Micha and Deborah. You probably have the best chance of reachin’ Debbs this time of day. Don’t call her Debbie, or she’ll chew you out for fifteen minutes.”

“Noted.” Ford nodded.

Stan returned to the gift shop. Someone had to keep an eye on the vending machine, after all. Of course, he was also going to keep an ear on Ford’s call, to make sure the nerd didn’t worm his way out of actually asking for permission. 

When they were kids growing up in New Jersey, Stan and Ford would often listen in on their mother’s customers by carefully picking up the second receiver downstairs in the pawn shop. All they had to do was cover the mic and be careful not to giggle too much, and even their mom wouldn’t realize they were listening in until either one of them laughed too loud or dropped the phone. Stan’s landline had a second receiver in the gift shop, right next to the cash register.

The old conman picked up the phone, pressed his thumb over the mic, and held the speaker up to his ear. Bingo! It was still ringing, and it didn’t seem that Ford realized his brother was listening in, as the old nerd was humming to himself as he waited.

“Hello? Stanford?” Debbs asked as she answered the phone.

Ford's little gasp was amplified by the crackle of his breath into the phone's mic. "H-how did you-- you know who I am?"

"Caller ID, silly!" She explained with a giggle. "I know you're old, Stan, but it's been a thing since the 80's."

"Actually, it's been around since the 60's," Ford corrected her, "although I imagine its use became much more widespread after 1982."

"Uh, yeah… Stanford, are you sick? You sound, um… you don't sound like yourself."

Stan grit his teeth. Sure, rub salt in that wound. Because his brother didn't already hate him enough.

"I'm fine." Ford answered stiffly. "It's an incredibly long story, one I don't have time to relate over the phone now. Suffice to say, I'm more myself now than I've been in the last 30 years. But I have more important things to discuss with you."

"Is everything ok?" Debbs asked, a hint of worry coloring her voice.

Don't mention the dream demon threatening to kill us all! Stan thought desperately.

"Oh, I'm not calling about any trouble." Ford assured her.

Stan breathed a sigh of relief. So his brother wasn't completely clueless after all.

"I'm actually calling because I have a great opportunity for Dipper and Mabel!" The old researcher continued enthusiastically.

"Did you find discounted bus tickets?"

"No. In fact, there's a good chance you won't need to buy bus tickets at all! You see, I'd like to take Dipper on as my apprentice studying the anomalies of Gravity Falls! Mabel is welcome to stay too, although I'll need to find an appropriate teacher for her as soon as I take care of… ah, some more pressing matters in my work. I promise you, I'll make sure they continue to keep in regular contact with you through weekly letters, and with modern communications technology, you'll be able to talk with them face-to-face whenever you like. We'll also make time to come down and visit as often as our studies will allow. All I need is your permission for them to continue their stay here."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Debbs giggled nervously, like she was forcing herself to laugh at a joke she didn't get.

"Uhhh, that's great Stan. Are you practicing one of your new sales pitches on me?"

"I assure you, this is not one of my brother's schemes." Ford insisted. "You're my family, I would never expect any kind of compensation, regardless of how much the price of a secondary education had risen."

"Secondary education? I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

"I realize they're both at a seventh-grade level now, but I have twelve PhD's. With my one-on-one personalized teaching, even Mabel could begin learning at the college level in a couple of years. As for Dipper, I'm confident he could reach that level before next summer."

“No.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll need to speak to your husband about it first, but we’ve still got another week to come to an agreement.”

Debbs' voice switched from sweet and patient to icy and venomous. "Listen, I dunno who you think you are, but you're not getting my kids!!"

“Y-you misunderstand me.” Ford’s voice faltered. “I don’t want to take your kids away from you, I’m just trying to give them a better education than what’s available to them back in California. Like I said, we’ll keep in regular contact, and we’ll come to visit--”

“Oh, I don’t care what kinda ‘better education’ you’re offering!” Debbs snapped sharply. “Nothing is worth being separated from my children!”

“What? But… but you’re separated from them right now! You’ve been separated for months! Why is it suddenly a problem now?” Ford asked in confusion.

“Two and a half months.” Debbs clarified. “Two and a half months so they could get out of the city and spend some time in the great outdoors, and even that’s been hard. And you expect me to just… just let my babies move away?”

“E-everyone moves away from home eventually, though.” Ford reasoned. “Surely, you don’t want them to still be living with you when they’re in their thirties!”

“Eventually, maybe. But not when they’re barely even thirteen!” She retorted. “Now you listen to me Stanford, or whoever you are. My kids had better be on the bus back to Piedmont come next Friday, or I’m coming up there to get them myself. And you’d better believe if I have to do that, they’re never going back to Gravity Falls again!”

With that, she hung up. Stan quickly hung up as well, so Ford didn’t notice the line was still active. 

“...Great.” Stan hissed to himself, massaging his temples. That stress headache was really setting in now. 

He’d been counting on this talk with the kids’ folks to be a wake-up call to Ford, but he hadn’t stopped to think about how much damage control he was gonna have to do afterwards. How could he have forgotten how much of an interpersonal relationship disaster his brother was? He should have been there in the same room with Ford, coaching him through it, making sure the nerd didn’t screw things up for both of them like this. 

Stan picked the phone back up and dialed Deborah’s number, hoping against all logic that she’d pick up. He needed to fix this, or he might never be allowed to see the kids again. The old conman felt a wave of relief when she actually answered.

“Debbs, that wasn’t me on the phone just now!” He shouted into the receiver the moment he heard her pick up.

“Yeah, I kinda figured.” she replied. “Do you know who that was? What’s going on?”

“Uh… just some guy I went to highschool with back in Jersey.” The best way to sell a lie is with a bunch of technically true facts. “He’s here visiting.”

"What is his problem!?"

“I dunno, Debbs, he’s got some serious issues.” Stan rolled his eyes. “But, you know I’d do anything to make sure Dipper and Mabel come home safe to you, right? You don’t gotta worry.”

“I know, Stanford, and I appreciate the sentiment, but I’d really don’t feel comfortable with the kids spending time with your friend.”

“We, uh, we’re not exactly friends anymore.” Stan clarified, his heart sinking.

"Well, that should make it easier to tell him to stay away from my children."

Stan had originally just called Debbs back to reassure her and make sure he didn't lose the privilege of taking care of the kids. He'd done that. He could just say 'You got it' and hang up, but he didn't. Instead he found himself opening up his mouth and defending his brother.

"Look, I know he was way out of line, tryin' to ask you to send the kids up here year-round, but I swear to you, he doesn't mean 'em any harm. He, uh, he's been on his own for a long time, and he's been through some terrible stuff. I'm not exaggerating when I say Dipper and Mabel are probably the best thing to happen to him in 30 years. He wasn't great with people before, and all that time alone definitely didn't help. I tried to tell him he couldn't just invite the kids to stay here all year, but he wouldn't listen to me. So I told him to call you. I shouldn'ta done that, I'm sorry. It, uh, it's my fault."

Stan wasn’t sure why he was sticking his neck out for his brother like this, but regardless of how he and his brother felt about each other, Stan knew the kids loved Ford, and the nerd loved them right back. Even if Mabel was really upset with Ford right now. If the girl could forgive someone like Pacifica Northwest, she'd definitely make up with her mysterious new uncle who spoke in overdramatic monologues and sent her to look for unicorns. It would break all three of their hearts if they weren’t allowed to see each other any more. 

Debbs sighed, but it was with more fondness than frustration. “Helping someone heal from trauma does sound just like my little angels… but can you promise me he’s not dangerous?”

Stan remembered what he’d told Dipper, just last week. My brother is a dangerous know-it-all… 

But hey, he was already an expert at lying to his family.

“Yeah, sure, I promise. And if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure he’d take a bullet for either of them. Not, heh, not that he would ever need to!”

“Well, ok. I suppose that’s the best I can ask for, short of driving up there and having a talk with him myself.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend it. We’re at peak tourist season here, the Mystery Shack’s a hive of activity.” Stan said, looking out over the deserted gift shop.

“Well, thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to call me.”

“Hey, family comes first.”

“Too right. Oh, and I never got your… uh, acquaintance’s name.”

“Fffffrank.”

“Ok. Please try and have another talk with Frank. I know you said he wouldn’t listen to you, but--”

“Oh trust me, I’m gonna have a long talk with him.”

“Thank you, Stan. Take care!”

“Yeah, you too.” Stan hung up and turned to his handyman. “Soos, hold down the fort for me, and keep an eye on the vending machine. I gotta go have another talk with my brother.”

[1-1snailxd-art]

Libraries are for Meetings

Master List —– Chapter 7

Chapter 8 - Heart-Eyes in the Library 

Warnings: homophobia, negative thoughts, swearing, blackmail 

Summary:  It is nice to talk and feel safe with the people in your company, but cuddles are even better.

Word count: 2967

Note: reading on mobile can remove the paragraphing sometimes. Use desktop site or visit my Ao3 page if it bothers you as much as it bothers me.

________________________

Beginning Note: So, the initial timeline is gonna jump around a little bit because I am a little stoopid and posted the last chapter with an ending that I actually didn’t want to have there. So sorry about that little mess up.

________________________

As Logan finished his story, the pair stepped through the library’s front doors and Virgil absently continued to walk towards his office; Logan now silently following. It wasn’t until the office door was safely closed that Virgil remembered how to breathe.

“What happened to the guys that beat you up?” He questioned, taking a seat at the messier end of the table. “Were they at least charged or something?”

Logan let out a long sigh as he sat at the opposite end.

“Unfortunately, no. We all walked away with warnings and nothing more and I was not in a position to take the matter further. It was safer that way.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It may have been the first, but sadly it wasn’t, and won’t be, the last.” Removing his glasses, Logan retrieved a cleaning cloth from his bag and started cleaning them for a distraction. “Not everyone is accepting of my identity. I don’t think I ever would have accepted myself without seeing how strong Patton and Jason were in the face of discrimination and ignorance.”

Virgil stared at the floor, thinking of all the times he had stood by and watched someone be beaten. The cries for help he ignored. The discussions he’d listen to in silence as hate was voiced and the suggested actions that he never attempted to stop.

He was part of the problem. He was just as bad as the people that beat Logan. He was a disgusting excuse for a human and didn’t deserve any of Logan’s kindness for the things he had done.

 “Virgil?” Logan stood and moved towards the younger man; head snapping up suddenly at his name. “Are you alright? You’ve gone quite pale.”

Virgil struggled to swallow, mouth dry and heart racing. “What? Oh, I’m fine. Just - um - I-I-I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Logan kneeled before the other, brows knitted in confusion and concern.

“I dunno,” he shrugged and shifted in his chair, “existing. Making you relive that. Wasting your time. Take your pick.”

A firm, but gentle, hand gripped his shoulder and Virgil looked up to meet Logan’s eyes.

“I may not be able to fully comprehend what has triggered that line of thinking, but I assure you it is untrue. I rather enjoy your company, Virgil, and while sharing my story is…painful, to some degree; it is also freeing to be able to share it.”

“You…enjoy my company?”

“Affirmative. Do you enjoy mine?” Colour returned to Virgil’s cheeks and he nodded. “I am glad to hear that. Thank you, Virgil.”

“No. I haven’t done-“

“You’ve made this week more tolerable and - well, I was wondering if - um. Would you…” Virgil watched as the other man appeared almost nervous; glancing down before looking back up again. “Would you be interested in hanging out tomorrow?”

“Oh - um - I -“ Logan’s hand was suddenly off Virgil’s shoulder and he fidgeted with his clothes as he found himself suddenly afraid of his response. “… I was going to do some work, but I guess I-.”

Logan sighed and felt himself relax slightly. “If it helps, I have this hard drive of personal images that I am desperate to see, and Patton’s laptop won’t read it. I would happily pay you for your services  if you are able to offer them.”

“I…” The dark thoughts swirled through his head again, but Virgil mentally shoved them aside as hard as he could. “Lunch would be great. Will you bring your things out somewhere or do you want me to come over?”

“If you wouldn’t mind coming over, that would be great. I have a lecture until 11:30; so, if you meet me near the labs, we can pick something up on the way to my place.”

“Fine with me. I should, um... I've got some stuff to organise in here before my shift starts.”

"Right, yes, of course." the pair slowly stood; Logan backing towards the door. "I shall see you tomorrow then."

"For sure."

Virgil watched them walk away as he turned to his mess of a desk, smiling to himself. Logan headed out toward the main desk to see Katie; thankful Virgil accepted his offer. It would be nice to break up his day before the meeting in the library and he felt so much lighter since opening up to the dark eyed librarian.

  "How's it going, heart eyes?" Katie teased. 

“Funny,” Logan mused, folding his arms across his chest. “Get it all out of your system now.”

Beaming, Katie stood and started making large dramatic gestures with her body and arms as she spoke. “You look so cute together. Have you seen how red your faces are? They could pick up your blush from a camera in space. I can’t wait to receive my ‘best wing woman’ trophy. Be sure to thank me at your inevitable wedding. If I’m not the maid of honour, I will riot.”

“Are you done?”

“For now.” She raised an eyebrow, “care to rebut?”

“My pleasure.” Perching himself on the desks edge, Logan crossed his legs and fixed Katie with a knowing look. “While I’m sure we do come across as an aesthetically pleasing pair, he has yet to confirm his romantic attractions and I am yet to confirm my own identity with him. While I will not deny some ‘feelings’ towards him; it is far too soon to be making judgements on our potential future relationship status. Considering Jason and I knew each other for over a year before we officially entered our relationship, it would be foolish of you to assume I would enter a relationship with someone I’ve only known for a couple of days.”

“Oh, I know.” Katie smirked and ruffled Logan’s hair as she walked around the other side of the desk. “I just like watching your cheeks redden like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar.”

“You’re confusing me with Patton again.” He grumbled, combing his fingers through his hair and following Katie to the kitchen.

“You like cookies just as much as him and don’t you dare try and deny it.” Grabbing down three mugs, Katie set to work making two coffees and a tea for herself. “On a slightly heavier note, are you still okay with tomorrow evenings meeting?”

“I’ve kept my evening schedule clear, though my morning is very much booked.”

“Meeting Virgil again huh?”

“Wha-How did you-” Logan stammered.

“I didn’t, but I do now,” she giggled; presenting two mugs to Logan. “Take one to Virgil would you and can you remind him about the meeting tomorrow, I’ve gotta start shutting the computers down for the afternoon.”

“You’re really pushing this aren’t you?”

“You’ll thank me later.” Katie called, and walked off to the computer room with her tea in hand.

  Virgil had made quick work of his office clean; only the gaming system remained on the table, just waiting to be boxed up and sold on. He was just sealing a small container of wires when he heard a soft knock on the door. It was odd to find Logan there, and he was a little taken aback.

“Logan? What are you doing?”

“Katie made you coffee,” he offered the mug which Virgil gladly accepted, “and asked me to remind you about tomorrow evening”

“Yeah, I saw the library was booked for some meeting. I’m gonna start cleaning earlier so I can get out of the way.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Logan assured,” we wouldn’t be offended by your presence.”

“What do you mean?”

“We call it a meeting, but it’s more of an indoor picnic. Jason used to organise them with needy groups once a month. After he passed, Katie started them as a way to, I guess,  reconnect. We haven’t had one in a while though.”

“It can be tough, at times, when it comes to connecting with people after a trauma.”

 Virgil’s eyes widened as he stared at his coffee, the words of his former therapist slipping from his mouth before he even realised. Quickly pulling the coffee to his lips, he hoped Logan didn’t freak out over the comment; which is why the breathy laugh shocked him so much. Logan was genuinely lost for words for a moment, but he finally composed himself and nodded.

“That… is a very wise sentiment, Virgil. It sounds like you have some experience in that area.”

Fingers drumming on the side of his mug, Virgil moved to leave the office. “Yeah, well, nothing like what - um - you experienced, but I have my fair share of shadows in my past.”

“Well I’m glad you are able to connect now,” Logan beamed, following the cautious other to the kitchen to clean his surprisingly empty mug.

“I-“ Virgil looked at Logan’s face, a comforting feeling sitting on his chest and shielding him from his usual self-hate. “I’m glad I am too.”

 A high-toned ringing caused them both to jump and Logan rifled through his bag to find his phone blaring an alarm. He silenced it before reading the reminder to go get groceries for dinner.

“I’m sorry about that, but I need to get going.” Virgil took the mug from his hands and he nodded gratefully. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow. 11:30 at the science building?”

“I’ll be there.”

With a final wave, Logan headed out of the library; pausing briefly at the front desk to scribble a smiley face on a post-it note for Katie.

 Twenty minutes later, Katie had locked the front door and was pulling Virgil’s headphones off his head before he could start vacuuming.

“What you need, Reels?” He questioned, leaning against the vacuum handle.

“Nothing, just checking in.” Her voice raised in pitch and she rocked on her feet like a child asking her parents for a pony. “So, how’d it go with Lo-gaaan?”

Virgil rolled his eyes with a groan, “I’m going to do some more computer work with him tomorrow. Happy?”

“Are you?”

The question stirred something in Virgil, and his eyes shifted as he considered it in its entirety. When he was with Logan, the voices of his past were at their loudest, but he also managed to silence them much faster. A genuine smile spread across his face as he finally nodded, meeting Katie’s eyes.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“Then so am I. Catch you tomorrow afternoon.”

 Waving, Virgil returned his headphones to his ears before starting the vacuum cleaner up. The action was soothing and gave him plenty of time to reflect on the week’s events. So much had happened in such a short period of time, and his thoughts and emotions had been on overdrive. Roman had revealed himself to be a reasonable soul, dating the most selfless man Virgil had ever come across. He learnt that Ethan and Ellie were the same person and gender was a lot less black and white than he had believed. Jason had become a name connected to a face with a story he still didn’t quite understand, but Virgil knew he was the keystone to the whole group. And then there was Logan. Passionate and professional Logan. He couldn’t deny the smile on his face as he pictured them; squared glasses, dress shirt, tie, combed hair, pleasant smile.

 “… disgusting...” … “…unnatural…” … “What? Are you a faggot too?” … “if you dare mention him to me again, you can forget about living.”

 The spray bottle of disinfectant slipped from Virgil’s shaking hands and split on impact with the ground; the solution slowly seeping into the carpet beneath the main desk. Breathing seemed impossible as memories overpowered his thoughts; yelling, insults, cries of pain, screams of distress, blood and the flashing of emergency lights. The library faded to black as Virgil lost all connection with his surroundings.

 ******************************

 The bus stopped at the top of the street and Patton quickly hurried down the path toward the unit complex. Rows of two-story town houses pressed close together, creating a wall of buildings housing other young studiers taking advantage of the cheap rent and small yard maintenance rates. Reaching the building at the end, Patton slid his key into the lock and felt a wave of relief rush over him as he stepped into their apartment. A pleasant spice smell filled his nostrils the moment he entered; a clear indication that  Logan was already busy preparing dinner in the kitchen. Leaving his bags at the door, Patton turned straight into the kitchen and walked right into Logan’s waiting arms for a hug.

“That smells so good, Logie.”

“Your timing is impeccable. Everything is ready to be served, you just need to select the entertainment for the evening.”

Practically vibrating with excitement, Patton rushed around to the TV and started scrolling through their options while Logan set to serving the stir-fry. After placing their plates on the table, Logan returned to the kitchen to split the leftovers into plastic containers.

“Who’s the third one for?” Patton questioned, looking at the three containers Logan had set out.

“No one. I just made too much is all and thought a third container was necessary.”

Patton was not convinced, leaning on the breakfast bar with a knowing grin. “You never misjudge serving sizes. You made some for Virgil, didn’t you?”

“I do make mistakes sometimes, Patton,” Logan assured, quickly rinsing his utensils and setting them beside the sink for washing later. “But should Virgil be interested; I see no harm in sharing our leftovers with him.”

“Sure,” a wink and click of his tongue confirmed that Patton didn’t believe a word of what Logan said, but he turned to sit at the table as an animal documentary started playing on the TV.

 Dinner went by with a few laughs and flushed cheeks as the pair discussed their days apart. Logan admitted that he did indeed find Virgil to be pleasant company and a rather surprising positive to come from a shattered laptop. This made Patton feel much better and more willing to confess he rather enjoyed his evenings with Roman. A raised eyebrow, coupled with a smirk, from the science major had Patton glowing like a ripe tomato.

“Pulled those brakes off real fast, Pat. I’m surprised at you.”

“No no no.” Patton waved his arms, but his face only turned redder, “it wasn’t like that. We just - um - He didn’t - I mean, I didn’t - it just… happened.”

Shoving his hands in his lap, Patton pouted in embarrassment while his friend laughed and nudged his shoulder as he carried their empty plates to the kitchen.

“I’m only teasing you, Patton. You know I hold no judgement over what you and Roman do in your spare time.” Patton hummed in agreement and rose from his position to join Logan in the kitchen; wrapping his arms around his friend’s waist and resting his head on their back while they started the dishes. “Was it worth the wait?”

Eyes closing, Patton sighed and recalled his afternoon. “Absolutely.”

 Logan smiled and continued his task with Patton holding on to him like a baby koala. Since moving cities, Patton had jumped between multiple relationships; rarely ending pleasantly or being paced at all. The man had so much love to give and was all too willing to give it; often to his own detriment. It seemed Patton had finally decided to take the singles road when Roman asked him out and it turned out to be the best thing that could have happened, and the first relationship the man had taken seriously enough to pace himself. It warmed Logan’s heart to finally see his friend have a positive experience with someone. He’d had similar experience with ‘uncomfortable’ situations before realising his asexuality thanks to Jason. It had always caused him great pain to have Patton recall his experiences, and they rarely left him has happy and content as he was now.

It set a calm tone for the evening as the pair moved to the lounge room, Logan laying in the corner of their couch with Patton leaning against his chest under a soft teal blanket. When Logan woke, the tv sat on a menu screen and showed the time was after midnight. It took some careful manoeuvring, but he eventually managed to slide out from beneath Patton. Sliding the glasses off Patton’s face, the sleeping man stirred and blinked groggily up at his friend.

“Yours or mine,” Logan whispered, bending to scoop his tired friend up.

Wrapping his arms around Logan’s neck, Patton mumbled into his ear and Logan smiled;  carefully making his way to his already turned down bed.

 ******************************

 Virgil couldn’t remember if he fell asleep or passed out, but he woke up under the main desk; morning alarm vibrating in his pocket and the strong scent of disinfectant still in the air. Groaning, he slowly sat up and rubbed at his pounding head. Groggily grabbing his phone to silence the alarm he noticed multiple messages had come through during the night.

 Ben: I got some friends over and Im feeling a little loose

Ben: Im gonna to need something to keep these lips closed

Ben: Another 20 should keep em shut

Ben: Your silence wont get my silence

Ben: Youv made a mistake now

Ben: price has gone up again dip shit. I’ll call tomorrow with your new figures. You better answer or I’m tearing this contract up and going straight to that library of yours.

Virgil: *seen*

 Suddenly wide awake, Virgil was off the ground and racing to prepare for the day. He would need to get a decent amount of money to calm Ben down now, and only one gaming console to sell. Friday was set to be one heck of a day.

   ________________________

End Note

Hey, so this was the crazy chapter that wasn’t meant to be. I messed up the timeline in my last upload (well done past me) and then my computer had a melt down and deleted most of this chapter 😭 Thankfully, I was able to run a recovery and saved a lot of stuff I thought I had lost (Look at me being all Virgil like).

 Anyway, I’ve got E planned to make a return next chapter and give a little more insight into how they feel about everything. It’s something I have been looking forward to exploring since I introduced them, and I feel like some of the dots should start getting connected now.

 Hope you are still enjoying the story. Please let me know your thoughts; I’d love to read them. Happy timezone to you all 💜🐌

 On a personal note: Flu seems to have finally moved on (yay), but I may not have a job in the same place next year (boo) and my boss hasn’t really given me a clear list of options (I thought being permanent meant I had more security than when I was on a contract, but whatever).

_____________________________

Chapter 9    — MasterList

What else have I done:

The Perfect Ring (oneshot - analogical proposal)

You Promised (oneshot - prinxiety angst/injury/near death)

Sides of a Hero (Completed Fic - sides are fusions of impulses and aspects of Thomas. Virgil has a depressing past that he is forced to face thanks to Deceit and Rage. Was canon compliant at the time of completion)

The Shield to your Sword (WIP - A fantasy/magic au - Prinxiety (Royal Roman and orphan Virgil - they’ll admit to their love eventually), Virgil angst, non binary, healer Logan, *spoiler* Patton)

Check out my other blog for random fandom reblogs and stuff @snail-giggles 

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky (Ch. 2)

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

Notes: So, @cheapbourbon came up with an amazing AU and did some lovely art for it: please look at it and love it.

To quote straight from the source because I love this:

•Expedition leader/ survivalist guide Edge •Theoretical astronomer Rus •Location: Scott South Pole Station/South Pole Telescope •Guest stars: snow, cold, stars, & budding affections

I couldn’t resist, so here we are.

Warning: I am not a scientist, sadly, and while I did some research on the South Pole Station and Antarctica in general, I can only assume I’ve made mistakes here. I also took a lot of liberties and I know it. This is all in fun, so, forgive me for my errors and since this is already an AU, let’s pretend that it’s an Alternate Earth where these things are correct and I didn’t screw anything up.Here we go…

Chapter 2

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

His bones were barely dry from the gloriously hot shower by the time Edge was readying himself to go back outside. The provisions would have been dealt with by now but Red hadn’t come in from the vehicle shed. Not worrying, yet, but always better to double and triple check when in doubt, particularly this far from civilization.

He stepped outside into fading daylight, trudging through light layer of new snow. They were coming into the cycle of shorter days, much to Alphys’s delight. Her research involved alternate power sources and the only issue that arose during this time was her reluctance to sleep while she did her experiments.

Edge’s interest for her research ended at the point where it provided the station with plenty of power and hot showers, and lately where it helped his brother. Her skills would have given her a permanent place on the station whether or not her relationship with Undyne bloomed as it did. That it had, and that it gave Undyne someplace else to focus her relentless attention was a gift to them all.

The lights were on in the shed and a brief search found his brother’s legs, sticking out from beneath one of the Sno Cats.

“Is something wrong?” Edge asked loudly, waiting as his brother jerked and then cursed vigorously, squirming out from under the Cat. His knit cap was askew, and he straightened it, glaring at Edge.

“fuck, bro,” Red grumbled, “slam the door or somethin’, would ya? and nah, nothing wrong, just some maintenance. how is the group settlin’ in?”

“If you’d bothered to come inside when they got here, you’d know.”

Red only grinned unabashedly and shook his head. “that’s your job, boss. the only reason i keep ‘em alive is there’s too much paperwork if someone croaks.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear,” Edge said dryly. He gave the shed a glance, taking in neat line of snow-ready vehicles. “I expect some of them will need transport tomorrow, is everything ready?”

“ready freddy,” Red agreed. He picked up a dirty rag from the floor and wiped his greasy hands fruitlessly. “so, what’s with the monster in the group?”

“How did you know about that?” Edge sighed, rhetorical as the question was.

Red confirmed it with a sly grin. “undyne. said there was an actual skeleton monster.”

“There was.” Edge refused to expand on the subject despite his brother’s eagerness. Instead, he crooked a finger at Red in a ‘come hither’ motion. “Come here.”

Red scowled but he did, grudgingly stepping closer. His frown deepened as Edge pulled off his ski cap, carefully examining his skull. The spiderweb of cracks beneath it looked better than only days before, but the soft, healing glow normally concealed by his cap was fading.

“You need to see Alphys for another treatment,” Edge told him, handing back the knit cap.

“yeah, yeah.” Red wandered over to his work bench, tossing his cap on it and straightening tools that didn’t need attention. “she’s already on me. tells me a few more treatments and it’ll be fused. then i can stop playing the hipster and let my skull out for some air.”

“If you wouldn’t get your skull busted open, you wouldn’t have these problems,” Edge pointed out, but he walked over to rub gentle fingertips over his brother’s skull, careful to skirt the damaged areas.

Red knocked his hand away, but without any real force. “i’ll try harder next time, boss. now what about the other skellie?”

Edge only shook his head. “You can see him at dinner, if you bother to show up."

“uh huh. speaking of chow, might want to check in on bun-bun.”

Truly, his brother had a skill for irritating others that few could imitate. “When she kills you for calling her that, I’m not going to stop her.”

“eh, she’d have to catch me first,” Red gave him a wolfish grin, hopping up to sit on the workbench with his legs dangling. It put them closer to a height and he smirked into Edge’s face as he said, “anyway, got her the supplies but she’s about to shit a brick if you don’t give her a headcount.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Edge reached out to smack him, fully expecting his brother to dodge the way he did. “You could have checked the manifest.”

“coiulda, shoulda, didn’t.”

“Finish up with the vehicles,” Edge sighed, and put his goggles back into place, heading back out to face the station cook. Night had fallen completely while he was in the vehicle shed, the first swirls of the aurora twisting overhead. Edge barely glanced at it, headed for the main door to face a little wrath.

~~*~~

From the delicious aroma that was coming from the kitchen area, Bonnie was caramelizing onions for whatever was on tonight’s dinner menu. The hydroponic gardens provided enough vegetables for her to be reasonably generous with them and so long as the core generator functioned, none of his charges would be dying of a scurvy, at least.

Edge waited in the doorway, watching her expertly switch between stirring pots and scraping pans, until she looked up. Then he signed, Did you need any help?

He was a decent cook in his own right, but the kitchen was Bonnie’s domain and he did not like to impose. On occasion, she did let him play prep cook, and chopping vegetation could be mindlessly relaxing. But generally, she preferred to work alone, especially on a day like today with a new roster of Humans with new tastes and dietary needs. Anytime Edge wanted to cook on his own was scheduled in advanced.

She didn’t stop what she was doing but her pointed look was telling. He smirked a little and gave in.

Twelve new, he signed. Eleven humans, one Monster.

That caught her attention enough that she actually set her spoon aside to sign back, Monster? Never had Monster before.

He shrugged and she nodded slowly, then went back to her pots and pans. Past knowing how many she was cooking for and their needs, Bonnie had little interest in their charges.

Special needs? she asked

Two listed vegetarian, Edge signed, none listed allergies.

She nodded again, vaguely pleased. Easy group.

She would certainly know. Bonnie had been with them from the start.

As a member of the Bun clan, she was of medium height, her furry ears reaching up to Edge’s chin, and Edge didn’t know what had caused her badly scarred face, leaving her with one eye cloudy and sightless. Not any more than she knew where he’d gotten his scars. Edge also didn’t know what had driven her up this far away from her surely enormous family and the larger Monster community and didn’t ask. Bonnie had applied for the job and demonstrated her skill at it. Nothing more was required.

But she was one of them and tonight, she would find a flash drive on her side table with Red’s symbol on it, along with dozens of new specialty books for her kindle reader and in return, there would be fresh cranberry scones for breakfast this weekend, a special favorite of his brother’s.

Their friendship was a mixture of antagonism and silent affection and Edge left them to it. He was rather fond of the scones as well.

Besides, who was he to judge when he was friends with Undyne.

Bonnie’s attention was once again completely focused on her cooking and Edge left her to it to finish his checks. Dinner would be within the hour and he was resigned to the fact that it was going to be eventful, one way or another.

~~*~~

By the time Edge got to their version of a mess hall, most of the researchers were already there. The table had the capacity for about twenty people, even those like their scholars who had laptops and notepads in front of them, the barest murmur of conversation carrying through the room.

Their facility was a small one but one of the priciest to visit. The remote location kept them from being overrun with cruise ship tourists and their equipment was top of the line, the best Humans and Monsters had to offer.

All researchers and scientists paid top dollar to come here and it was Edge’s job to ensure that they had all the basic tools they needed to work, plus as much comfort as could be reasonably provided. Tomorrow Undyne would show them the recreation facilities with her version of firm encouragement to use them. Overworking helped no one, a lesson that Alphys had taught them well.

Red was sitting at the far end of the table, slouching half-asleep and still wearing his sunglasses. Not that they needed them, snow blindness was not an issue without actual eyes, but it was a good reminder to speak to everyone about wearing their goggles during the daylight hours.

Next to him was Undyne and when she saw Edge come in, she grudgingly took apart the tower of forks and knives she was building. The chair next to her was empty and when Edge glanced at it, Undyne shrugged.

“Alphys isn’t coming down today,” she said, low.

Edge only nodded. Their engineer’s tolerance for outsiders varied by the day and she often took her meals in her room for the first week or so a new group arrived.

The door opened, catching his attention and he turned in time to see Rus, the only person still missing. He glanced at a chair at the end of the long table, but chose instead to sit a little away from the others, closer to Edge and his team.

Edge couldn’t say he was surprised. Even Humans who claimed to be intellectuals could have their prejudices against Monsters and their time on the boat had surely given Rus an idea of how his companions would be treating him. Simply the differences in their wardrobes, the others in the crisp winter-wear and Rus in a baggy orange sweatshirt layered over thermals spoke volumes.

The door to the kitchen swung on its hinges and Bonnie emerged, carrying steaming serving dishes to the tables. To their credit, none of the Humans or Rus reacted strongly to her appearance. There was nothing more than murmur of thanks in a variety of languages and a few glances sent Edge’s way.

Good, they were learning.

He waved a hand at them, “Go ahead, we don’t stand much on ceremony here.”

A few more trips and soon the table was loaded with bowls. The food tended toward simpler, filling fare, generously seasoned, and all of it smelled tantalizing. If they could make one smug claim about the facility, it would be that no one had ever gone home and complained about the food.

Edge took a buttery roll from one of the plates, tearing it open to spread it with their newly received strawberry jam. He ate it in two bites, not even bothering to stifle a groan of pleasure as it fairly melted in his mouth.

Thank you, Edge signed as Bonnie sat a platter of fragrant roasted vegetables in front of him. Undyne absently copied him before snagging a roll for herself, her sharp teeth tearing into the soft bread. Her ability to talk in hands was barely past mediocre even if she’d had all ten fingers, but she was learning.

More startling was the way Rus signed it as well, adding on looks delicious.

It was possible that Bonnie’s stoic expression softened, just slightly. She nodded to him and went back to the kitchen.

The muted conversation faded beneath hungry appreciation. All of them were probably starving after the trek earlier and there was plenty for everyone. Calorie intake was important, to keep up their strength, and Bonnie would ensure that everyone had their fair share.

Undyne ate with haste past her normal eagerness for food and it was only after she washed her plate and set it in the drainer that Edge learned why.

She sauntered over to the other side of the table where Rus was sitting, and her grin was not one that filled Edge with comfort. Rus seemed to agree; he stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth, eyeing her warily.

“Well, hey there, pal,” Undyne slung an arm over Rus’s shoulders and gave him a little shake. He froze, looking at her from corner of his socket. “Don’t think I caught your name.”

“rus.” That single word was a sort of rusty squeak. The nerve he’d dredged up against Edge earlier seemed to desert him when faced with Undyne, but Edge wasn’t about to hold that against him. It showed a good instinct in self-preservation.

“Well, hiya, Rus,” Undyne purred, and it sent unease prickling up Edge’s spine. “What’re you in for?”

“research?” he offered weakly and she laughed, giving him a noogie that was firm enough for him to wince.

“Yeah, that part I know. On what?”

“for my thesis?” There was little confidence in him that this answer would satisfy Undyne.

“You’re a grad student?” Edge asked, frowning. Every other researcher that had ever been here had at the very least a PhD, more likely several.

“yeah? so?” There was a certain defensiveness there, a ghost of his earlier fire.

One of the others, an older Human male with an almost palpable arrogance opened his mouth as though about to insert himself into the conversation. Undyne only stared at him with stony coldness.

He turned his attention back to his plate.

Well, it was a definite improvement over her past ways of dealing with those she deemed as assholes.

Rus looked as though he wished he’d gotten the reprieve, no matter what insult the Human had to offer.

“Nothing wrong with it, kid, just unusual.” She bluntly ignored Rus’s muttered ‘not a kid.’ “Don’t think we’ve ever had a grad student out here before. The spots in the rotation fill up fast and it takes more than a semester of student teaching to cover the price tag. So, either you have a sugar daddy who pulled the strings to get you here or your research is of the more black ops variety. Which is it?”

Rus smirked then, unexpectedly, and tipped his head back against her arm where it still lay across his shoulders. “you have something against sugar mamas or are you just offering?”

A pinprick of crimson flared in Undyne’s eyes. For one moment, Edge tensed, waiting for an explosion but finally Undyne threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, he’s fun.” Her next noogie was nearly fierce enough to send him face first into his plate. “You’ve got it all wrong, I could use a sugar momma of my own if you’ve got one laying around. Go ahead and eat up, fashion victim, you’re gonna need it.”

Undyne went back to her seat, lounging back in her chair, and picking at her teeth with a sharp-clawed finger. Rus blinked a couple times and then went back to his dinner. But not without giving Edge a measuring sideways glance. One that Edge returned with a raise brow bone as he chewed his own food.

The muted conversation on the other side of the table dwindled as the others left, following Undyne’s silent lead in scraping their plate into the bin marked ‘food waste’ then washing it and setting it to drain.

The sight relaxed a last bit of tension in Edge’s soul. This group seemed like they would maintain their professionalism. In the past, they had ended up with the occasional researcher who didn’t understand the concept of pulling their own weight. Thus far, this group seemed to be willing to follow the unspoken rule.

Rus follow suit but unlike the others, he hesitated at the table. “let the cook know the grub was delicious, will ya?”

“Tell her yourself in the morning,” Undyne challenged.

“oh, i will, never hurts to hear it twice.” He waggled his fingers with a grin. “so to speak. i’m still whipped, think i’ll turn in early. sleep well, undyne.” He paused and Edge didn’t think he imagined the way his voice lowered in pitch, smooth as expensive whiskey, “sleep well, boss.”

“You as well,” Edge said evenly.

He didn’t mean to watch him walking away, the hint of a sway in his hips beneath those concealing sweatpants. When the door closed behind him, Edge stood to wash his own plate but there was no escape from Undyne’s sharp whistle.

“Oh, honey, he has your number,” Undyne said, gleefully.

“He said three words to me.” Edge rinsed his plate impatiently, setting it in the drying tray with a clack.

“Yeah, but was the way he said it.” From her delight, one would think she’d gotten a chance at second Gyftmas. “Lotta sex he managed to infuse into those three words. Better make sure you take him to your quarters. You’ve got better soundproofing and I’ve got odds on him being a screamer.”

“Undyne—"

“Not too late to bet that 10g.” She glanced at Red. To the unknowing eye, he would have seemed asleep, his plate pushed to the side and his skull resting on his folded arms. “You’ve been keeping quiet all fucking night, shithead. Don’t you think your brother needs to cut himself a slice of that?”

“yeah, i don’t think so.” Surprised, Edge sat back down. He was counting on his brother joining in with Undyne’s teasing. His seriousness was entirely unexpected and potentially worrisome. “that one has trouble written on his ass, in sharpie. i think you need to keep it in your pants, boss.”

Undyne’s grin faded a little. “What’re you thinking, little boss?”

He slipped his sunglasses down, the crimson of his eye lights glaring over the rims. “i’m thinking he avoided answering your question. he never did tell you what he’s researching. they aren’t required to, trade secrets and all that shit, but usually they can’t shut up about it. so why didn’t he?”

Undyne shrugged. “So? Maybe he didn’t feel like it. You’ve never given a shit about any of their research before, anyway.”

“that was before we had another monster on the roster.” Red pulled his sunglasses off completely and Edge didn’t think his brother even knew he was rubbing a light hand over the cap on his skull. “we’re here because we are uniquely suited to months of limited sunlight and better cold tolerances than most humans. we’ve never had a monster come to do research. all i’m wondering is why now?”

“Don’t think that one is going to be able to add cold tolerance to his resume anytime soon.” More seriously, Undyne asked him, “You want me to keep an eye on him?”

“nothing obvious, but yeah.” Red ran a finger over his plate, swiping up a trace of gravy and licking it away. “boss, there’s nothing i can put a finger on, but my instincts are telling me something is strange about him being here. and that jacket of his has an embassy patch.”

“That’s true,” Edge murmured.

“The embassy?” Undyne scoffed. She slammed a fist on the table, sending silverware bouncing. “Those fuckers haven’t bothered us since they tossed us on our asses. They haven’t said so much as a fuck you to us in years. He paid his dues, he hopped the boat. doesn’t mean the Embassy has anything to do with it.

“And if they are involved in his presence here, why would he be wearing the jacket?” Edge added. He couldn’t say he agreed with his brother’s concerns, but Red had sensed strange threats in the past. It was difficult to say if this was a similar situation or paranoia.

Red could only shrug. “still doesn’t mean they don’t.

“Fair enough, little boss. But I think you’re wrong about one thing. If the big boss here gets in our fashion victim’s pants, we’ll get the info live and squirming.” She nudged Edge with a vicious elbow, and he pushed her roughly away, hard enough to knock her to the floor. She lay there cackling, one leg sprawled over the seat of her chair.

And there was the conspiring glee he’d been expecting from his brother. Red laughed, showing off sharp, gleaming teeth, “hey, she ain’t wrong, might want to rethink that plan, boss.”

“You’re both fired,” Edge grumbled. “All right, fine, keep an eye on him for a few days, Undyne. I’m going to do final rounds and then I’m hitting the sack. This was a long fucking day.”

“Could be a long night fucking if you stop by to read Ruuuuuus a bedtime story,” Undyne sang out from the floor.

Edge ignored her and his brother’s snickering, and started through his nighttime checklist. He didn’t spend a moment thinking about pale eye lights and a whiskey smooth voice, of a sleepy figure in a bed, cozied into a blanket.

It was early yet but his own bed was calling his name. His empty bed, thank you, and that was how it would remain.

~~*~~

Read Chapter Three

[rezares]

Father || War & Peace

@spindlesandrosethorns​

Reading order of posted threads:

Spill The Tea (August 22, 2019)

Bullshit Cover Story (November 10, 2019)

Bullshit Detective (November 10, 2019)

Wildcard (November 10, 2019)

Word Count: 6281

Date: November 10th, 2019

tl;dr: Rory and Reza arrive in Tunisia, Rory meets Reza’s best friend Hamdi and Reza’s dad! His dad is adorable. 10/10 would die for Abdelmajid.

REZA

And so Aurora had gotten her way and come with him to Tunisia. He was pissed, but didn’t want to express it. Didn’t matter whether he wanted her to be there or not because she was there now. Not like he could afford to buy her a one way ticket back to England.

Not like Aurora’d even get on the plane even if he could and did buy her one.

The plane touched town in Tunis, the capital city, about five hours after it took off from London. They finally made it to his home city of Hammamet an hour later when the train from Tunis pulled into the station. As pissed as he was at Rory, he couldn’t act mad even if he wanted to. The closer they got to Hammamet, the more Reza bounced his legs, full of nervous excitement. 

Even if he was here for one reason (that being murder) he was home! Home home, not fake, Swynlake home, or his mother’s house in Austria. Tunisia! He hadn’t seen his country in five years, and, more importantly, his father. 

“Hamdi should be waiting out front to give us a lift to my father’s house.” Reza said, bolting up as soon as passengers were given the clear to exit the train.

AURORA

Aurora was fully aware Reza was pissed at her. It was hard to miss; she wouldn’t even need to be a sorceress to feel the tension and frustration in the air. Thankfully their seats weren’t directly next to each other, so they couldn’t fight on the flight over. Instead, Aurora had gotten some work done on her laptop for the store and spent the rest of the trip either knitting or napping. By the time they landed in Tunis, she was feeling refreshed and ready to face the rest of the trip.

And her master’s temper.

Fun times.

Or at least, that had been what she had expected. The reality was Reza was so excited to be home that he practically ignored her. She didn’t mind, she was plenty distracted herself by the scenery passing by. Tunisia was beautiful, and Aurora found herself smiling widely as she looked eagerly out the train window.

It was only Reza’s voice that brought her back to the present, and she had to hold back a snort of amusement as he shot to his feet. He was like a big, excitable puppy. “I’m sure he’s waiting for our luggage too,” she said with no small amount of amusement. “Better be sure to grab that before you launch yourself through the door, hm?” She gathered up her own travel bag, slinging it across her chest.

REZA

“I- I- psh- I don’t bolt-” Reza sputtered, before grabbing his bag. Rory’s teasing was immediately forgotten though, because the train doors were opening and Reza was McFucking home for the first time in half a decade and he was so excited to stick his feet in desert and ocean sand and to eat Tunisian food that wasn’t made in his kitchen with subpar European bought ingredients.

Only briefly did he remember that plenty of people in his country wanted him dead. It wasn’t enough to dampen his excitement about coming home.

“Smell that? That’s the smell of the most beautiful, most vibrant, the best country on earth. America who? I don’t know her. The ocean breeze, the spices from restaurants, welcome to Hammamet.” The older sorcerer said, grinning and gesturing around them as they made their way through the train platform. “Or at least, the train station.”

Rory probably couldn’t smell the city yet anyway. It was just a strong memory of his coming back full force.

“I haven’t seen my country in five whole years. Five, can you imagine? I wonder how much my old neighborhood has changed or if my father has finally redecorated.” Reza turned to Aurora for the first time since the airport and smiled. “I haven’t seen him in five years either.”

 AURORA

‘I don’t bolt’ said He Who Bolts as he raced out of the train, and Aurora could only laugh as she gathered her own luggage and followed him at a more reasonable speed. Her own laughter sounded almost foreign to her, and she grew a little more somber when she remembered how little she had heard it in the past several months. If she did laugh, it was usually followed by hysterical sobbing, but not this time. No pressure breaking, no floodgate opening. Just… genuine laughter.

On one level, it was more than a little annoying that the only person who could make her laugh was the same man who had stolen that laughter from her. On another, it just… it felt good. Even knowing what they had come to Tunisia to do.

Aurora caught up with Reza easily, following and ducking so his gesturing arms didn’t smack her in the face. She couldn’t quite smell exactly what Reza was describing yet, but that didn’t stop her excitement. Afterall, she was her mother’s daughter, and the humidity and heat in the air only made her feel at home.

Reza turned to smile at her and her cheeks blushed in reply, the young woman cursing the fact that she couldn’t hide behind her curls when they were (mostly) all up in one of her mom’s old silk wraps. She decided to ignore it, instead giving him a small grin back as she followed a few steps behind. “Well then I’m glad we’re back so you can see each other again!” she said earnestly. Again, not why they came, but a bonus. 

It had been a while since she’d seen Reza smile that wide. He deserved this moment of happiness.

REZA

“You know, it was my father who made me-” go to Austria for medical care, he was going to say, but that was when he was cut off by a shout in his native language.

“Hey, ugly! Who let you back in the country?”

Thunk. Something hit him in the head but it wasn’t heavy at all. Reza fumbled to catch it as it fell after connecting with him - pap, pap, pap went his hands against what he figured was cardboard - until he had it turned right to read it.

Written in Hamdi’s god-awful handwriting was ‘welcome home Reza the dumbass’, featuring less awful doodles clearly done by Hamdi’s wife. Reza grinned wide at the message before looking up just in time for Hamdi to charge him and leap into his arms like the dramatic reunion scene in a romcom.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, you know my back isn’t what it used to be- ah! I hate you so much.”

“I missed you toooooo, my idiot best friend.” Hamdi, a man only five inches shorter than Reza, said, wrapping his legs around his waist and kissing his cheek. “Europe’s turning you white, you’re pale now. How gross.”

“Take that back.” 

Hamdi snorted and signaled for Reza to let him down, which the older man did. Quickly. Like he was trying to drop the other on his ass (because he was.)

“Okay, speak English now. My intern-” because he can’t just say apprentice “-isn’t from here.”

“Is she Ethiopian? I can still BS Amharic.”

“Scottish.”

“No way. Hey, hey uhhh, woman - ma’am. Say something. This clown here’s saying you’re Scottish.” Hamdi laughed, gesturing to Reza with his thumb while grabbing the bag Reza’s dropped when he charged at him with his other hand.

Reza gave Rory an apologetic smile. He should’ve prepared her for the experience that was Hamdi Ben Ahmed. In his defense, could any amount of words prepare someone for Hamdi, though? Trick question.

The oldest of the three sorcerers swiped Rory’s bag and carried it in the direction of Hamdi’s car. 

AURORA

Aurora had been listening intently to Reza when he got hit in the back of the head by a flying piece of cardboard. She gasped, immediately spinning on her heel with a glare to find whoever had thrown it at him. What the hell!? Back in the country for less than an hour and they were getting things thrown at them!?

Her eyes landed on the man with the outstretched arm, and only the radiant joy that was pooling off him kept her from snatching the sign from Reza and throwing it back with all her might.

When he sprinted at them, she nearly threw a punch instead. But Reza was grinning, so Aurora decided this was probably a reunion she was witnessing instead of an attack. The man threw himself at Reza and Aurora yelped in surprise, quickly moving to brace Reza's back before his knee dropped them both to the ground.

When they were both safely on their feet again, Aurora peeked out from behind Reza and watched them converse in rapid Tunisian curiously. She stepped out to his side once again just in time to have both their attentions turned to her.

She blinked at him owlishly before her eyes narrowed, lips pursed in annoyance for a flicker of a moment before she gave him her sunniest, most innocent smile. "Aye, lad, that I am!" Aurora said in her thickest, most unintelligible Scottish brogue. "I'm the only black lass who’s ever lived in Scotland! Ever! Name's Aurora, pleasure to meet ya!"

Still smiling, she raised her middle finger to them both before she looked at Reza with a deadpan expression. "You know," she said, accent back to normal levels of Incredibly Scottish, "I used to like my accent."

REZA

Reza snorted a laugh as Rory went Scottish Extreme, and nearly doubled over at Hamdi’s stunned expression. The silk wrap had him pin her as obviously from the African continent. Scotland? Scotland?

Yeah, Reza would’ve been shocked too, if he was hearing her accent for the first time while she was dressed like a Nigerian tourist visiting Tunisia’s beaches. 

“Oh hush, I like your accent.” Reza assured her. “Hamdi, how’s Dorsaf?”

“Ask her yourself, she’s in the car. Swollen ankles. Told her to just stay home but she was excited to see you.”

“Her sacrifice is noted. When is she due?”

“Uhhh, mid-February. She’s started nesting early this time.” Hamdi lamented as they neared the car, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “Did Rafika—”

Hamdi suddenly remembered Aurora and...wasn’t entirely sure she was just his friend’s student. Probably not best to ask about his baby mama’s pregnancy in front of her. Luckily, Reza saved him. 

“Y’allah, you always ask me about pregnancy even though you have more children than me. Calm down, habibi.” Reza clapped him on the back and affectionately played with his curly hair. 

“Oh, I’ve weighed the merits of spiking his tea with Xanax.”

Reza whirled around on his heel toward the voice — a very pregnant Dorsaf Ben Ahmed, and almost dropped Rory’s bag in surprise. Dorsaf was just as radiant as ever, and gave off the same warm, calming energy she always had even after five years. 

He pulled her into a side hug and kissed her cheek in greeting. “I’m glad you told Hamdi to shove his concern to come along.”

“Think I’d miss the return of a legend? Nah. We will have you for dinner before you leave for sure.” Dorsaf joked, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “Who’s this, your girlfriend? Hi. I’m Dorsaf, Hamdi’s my husband. We grew up with Reza.”

Dorsaf, a medium, tried very hard to ignore how fucked up Aurora’s aura looked. 

“Oh no, no. This is Aurora, my apprentice. She’s brilliant and terrifying when she’s angry, and Sabiha’s favorite aunt.”

AURORA

He did not like her accent; he covered his ears when she talked for too long! Aurora scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out at him before following after the two to the car. She almost missed most of the conversation, instead busy looking around at Hammamet curiously. It really was a gorgeous town, the skies bright and clear for their arrival.

The second reunion went much smoother than the first, if only because Dorsaf didn’t throw anything at them. Aurora greeted her with a smile, giving her a small wave as Reza introduced her. Her cheeks went a little red at the assumption they were dating, but honestly, it wasn’t the first time it had happened.

She rolled her eyes at Reza’s description of her, stepping forward so she could shake Dorsaf’s hand. “At least this time he led with ‘brilliant’,” she grumbled jokingly. “It’s wonderful to meet you both.”

REZA

Dorsaf shot Reza a glare. “What do you usually lead with, you bastard?” She said after she shook Aurora’s hand. “Poor Aurora, you must be a saint for tolerating him. He’s a genius sorcerer but needs a Baby’s First guide to human interaction.”

She motioned for them to get in the car.

“Should only be about a ten minute drive to Reza’s dad’s.” Hamdi said, popping the trunk to stuff their bags in. “But six since I’m driving.”

“Hamdi, if you kill me I will haunt you.” Reza quipped. 

Dorsaf snorted and settled into the front passenger seat as Rory and Reza climbed in the back. She turned around in her seat to face them and raised an eyebrow, addressing Reza in their native language. 

“What’s brought you back to Tunisia anyway? I thought you were gone for good.”

“Me too.”

“Do you think it’s safe for you?”

“Doubt it.”

“Then why?”

“...tying up a loose end.”

A tense silence fell between the two as the color drained from Dorsaf’s face and her eyes bore into the older man’s goddamned soul. She closed her eyes and sighed, hand coming to rest over her baby bump as she simply shook her head.

“You’re going to die trying to right a wrong that wasn’t yours in the first place.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

Dorsaf bit her lip, then as if suddenly remembering Aurora was there, slapped back on her warm, tour guide smile. “Reza mentioned you were Sabiha’s favorite aunt now, yes? How is our baby doing? We all miss her terribly.”

“Reza was the first of our friend group to have a child.” Hamdi explained.

“Mm, but the only one never married.” Dorsaf added.

“Marriage is just another piece of paper I’d lose track of.” Reza said. “And who would I marry anyway?”

“You turned down marriage propositions left and right from heads of sorcerer families, what do mean ‘who?’” Hamdi shot back.

“Are we done talking about my marital status?” Reza asked. “You asked Rory about Sabiha, Dorsaf?”

AURORA

“Oh, don’t worry. I annoy him plenty, it evens out,” Aurora said with a small chuckle. She already liked Hamdi and Dorsaf, she had decided. But then, Aurora liked most people.

She climbed into the backseat with Reza, rolling her eyes at the two men’s banter as she got settled. As they began speaking in Tunisian again, Aurora watched the scenery fly by with wide eyes, knowing that even trying to keep up with the conversation now was a lost cause. She only looked back when Dorsaf addressed her in English again.

At the mention of Sabiha, Aurora almost automatically sat up straighter, smiling widely. But as the trio began their back and forth, Aurora wilted a bit again; her conversation with Reza the night of prom still fresh in her mind. She shouldn’t be lighting up at the mention of her sorcery master’s daughter, she shouldn’t feel so proud of her accomplishments.

(The bright, warm lights that had popped up around her head like fairy lights immediately fizzled and died out like little candles blown out by a careless wind, and the fracturing across her chest deepened and spread.)

“She’s doing good,” Aurora said, trying to sound casual. “Um, she’s back at school again, so that’s going well! And she was in our town’s play this last summer. She played Young Cosette.”

REZA

Hamdi saw the reagent appear then fade away just as quickly in the rear view. He knew Reza did too. The younger sorcerer shot the older a brief glare meaning - what did you do to make that happen? Which Reza saw but ignored. 

“And how has she settled into England? Reza nearly broke his back to pay for private English tutoring but she struggled. She never had an English speaker at home to help her study.” Dorsaf said, frowning. “I miss her.”

“We all love his little girl so much,” Hamdi explained. “The lot of us got to watch her grow up. Sabiha was the first child born to any of the squad and we all just adored and spoiled her.”

AURORA

“She’s picking English up really well! Doing the play helped, and she’ll talk with my regulars in English so she gets some extra practice,” Aurora explained. “As for how she’s settled? Um, there’s good and bad days. More good than anything else now, at least.”

Aurora missed her too, like a fucking limb. She had texted Sabiha as soon as they had landed, letting her know they had made it safe and sound, although she was purposefully vague about where exactly they were. But Sabiha wasn’t hers to miss. So she buried that too.

“Didn’t spoil her too badly, she’s the sweetest wee thing I’ve ever met,” she said softly. Her hands tangled together in her lap. “What about you?” she asked. “Reza mentioned earlier you two have kids now as well?”

REZA

“Yes! We have six, or will, once this one is born.” Dorsaf said, rubbing her baby bump and grinning. “Reza actually was the first person to ever hold our first four besides us. He helped out a lot with our first daughter.”

“You say that, but all I did was give you Sabiha’s hand me downs for Awatef and tell you both to stop panicking.” Reza supplied. 

“Hamdi grew up an only child, and I come from a big family, so we both wanted to just make babies until we finally had enough.” Dorsaf continued. “We have three sons and two daughters, and this will be our third daughter.”

Reza’s jaw dropped, his face absolutely lighting up. “A girl!? Hamdi didn’t tell me it was a girl! I’m sure Awatef and Maysoon are excited to not be outnumbered anymore.”

“Oh, thrilled. Dorsaf and I can hardly keep them from asking every day ‘Baba can you tell Mama to have the baby now?’”

Dorsaf pulled out her phone and quickly got to a photo of their five children in traditional Tunisian clothing at some kind of festival. “Our oldest is Awatef, she is five years old. We wanted to have another right away to get a good start on our big family, so our first son, Noureddine is also five, he’s ten months younger than Awatef. Maysoon and Haudar are twins, they are four and are actually almost exactly a year younger than Noureddine. Reza actually named Haydar because Hamdi and I couldn’t stop arguing so we made him decide. Najm is our fifth, he just turned one. Now we are just waiting for Yosra to come.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure you already have the conception date for number seven on the calendar.” Reza joked. 

“How’d you know?” Dorsaf joked and the same time Hamdi snorted “Fuck you, pal.”

“Not like you're much better,” said the sorcerer making eye contact with Reza in the rearview. “Mr. I Hate Kids one minute then the next you’re like ‘I want eight more immediately’ after you have one.”

AURORA

Aurora listened closely to the two as they talked about their family, the small, polite smile on her face hiding the hole that had opened up in her chest. Asking about kids was always a hit or miss for her, and lately? Mostly misses. As she looked at the photo, she ached with longing. She wanted that so much; wanted a family of her own.

Every day that dream felt further and further away.

At least this pain she was well practiced in hiding, and she turned her smile onto Dorsaf. “They’re all so beautiful,” she said softly. “Hopefully they take after their mother,” she joked, giving Hamdi her most innocent smile.

REZA

“See? I told you I’m the hot one in this marriage.” Dorsaf said, sticking her tongue out at Hamdi.

Hamdi opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Reza going ‘almost home, almost home!’ in Arabic. The younger sorcerer locked eyes with Reza in the rearview and smiled.

The car wasn’t even in park before Reza tore off his seatbelt and scrambled out of the car, damn near getting his foot run over by the back tire. Did he give a damn? Nope, not one single damn. He tore down the little alleyway that led to the staircase to his father’s second floor apartment. 

His father had clearly been watching out the window because Reza was halfway up the stairs when his father threw open his door and shouted ‘The prodigal son returns! Come here, come, come!’

Reza hugged his father so tight his heels came up off the ground. “Baba, I’ve missed you so much- have you shrunk?”

“Hold your tongue or your apprentice gets the bigger bedroom and you’re sleeping on the stairwell.”

Reza laughed wetly, as he’d started to tear up. “Y’allah, this is embarrassing.”

“I know, son. I am a sight to behold.”

“Sh-shut up.” 

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” His father asked, switching to French, as he was warned Rory spoke French but not Arabic.

“Oh. Oh, right, yes. Baba, Rory. Rory, Baba. Er, Abdelmajid Kasraoui.”

AURORA

Aurora let out a sound somewhere between a yell of shock and a squeak when Reza jumped out of a moving car. She at least waited until it stopped before popping out, sighing when she was sure he was okay. Dorsaf and Hamdi were both laughing, and Aurora shook her head fondly as she stepped the rest of the way out. “Give me like two minutes and I’ll be back for our luggage,” she told them before closing the door and following Reza, albeit at more of a trot instead of a flat-out run.

By the time she made it to the stairwell, Reza and an older gentleman were already hugging on the stairs, and her battered heart went soft at the sound of Reza’s wet laughter and brilliant smile. She stood, hands clasped, on the sidewalk until she heard his father begin to speak in French. She perked up curiously, before trotting up the stairs to greet the other half of the Kasraoui-Muller duo.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you,” she returned in French with a bright smile. “I’m Aurora.”

REZA

Abdelmajid didn’t know where his son got his height from. At 5’7 he stood nine inches shorter than Reza, and he swore he was shrinking with age. He stood on his toes to playfully smack his giraffe of a son upside the head.

“How dare you not tell me you were bringing a friend until the last minute, son! Do you know how much more cleaning I would have done yesterday if you told me you were bringing a pretty young lady into my home? Tsk, baba, so inconsiderate.” But the older man’s words were softened by the love in his eyes. 

He waved his hand at Reza. “Go grab your bags so Hamdi and Dorsaf can enjoy the rest of their kid-free day. I’ll finish up dinner. Early dinner. The cooking I did to keep still.”

Reza gestured to the car with his head. “I’ll grab everything. You go ahead inside, Rory. Put your feet up.” He gently pat her shoulder. “You must be tired.”

He scurried downstairs and grabbed the four bags - one carry-on per person plus one personal item. After a back-and-forth of Reza offering Hamdi money and Hamdi refusing, Reza insisting and Hamdi refusing still, Reza really truly insisting and Hamdi simply not being able to take Reza’s money, and Dorsaf swiping it from Reza’s hand because she would gladly take Reza’s money, thanks, he hurried back upstairs.

“Baba, it smells like you’ve been cooking enough food for Eid. How early did you start?”

“5:30.”

“Y’allah! Do you never sleep?”

“How can I, when my children and precious granddaughter are so far away?”

“Whose decision was that? You practically deported us from our own country.”

“And it wasn’t easy for me either, baba. But you survived, you can walk, and you are even part of your town’s government. You could not have had that life here.”

Reza was silent for a long moment. He set down their bags and sat down on a couch adjacent to Aurora. “We’re being rude to Aurora, speak French, baba.”

AURORA

Aurora smothered a snort of amusement as Abdelmajid reached up to smack Reza upside the head. She was content to stand back and let the two have the uninterrupted reunion she knew Reza had been wanting and expecting before she had invited herself along.

She blinked owlishly at her master as he patted her shoulder before almost pouting at him. She wasn’t a child, she could manage a five hour flight and a train ride. She trotted down the stairs a little after him so she could wave good bye to Dorsef and Hamdi enthusiastically before she followed Reza’s father into his house. “I really am sorry to intrude,” she said in French, giving him a shy smile before Reza came back in. Then, it was back to Tunasian and Aurora was left to look around the room on her own. She took it all in with wide eyes, fascinated by the tidy little home. Something in the air smelled wonderful, and she took a slow breath through her nose as her eyes drifted closed.

Her head whipped around when she heard her name mentioned, some of the curls that had escaped her wrap bouncing against her skin. “Oh, no, don’t worry about me!” she said quickly, waving her hands. “I was the one who invited myself. You two take your time catching up.”

REZA

“It’s fine,” Reza assured her in English. “We’ll catch up when you eventually knock out.”

He winked at her before turning his head to his father, and in the language only they understood, “Baba, mention needing a new scarf in front of Aurora while she’s here and she’ll jump to knit you one. She’s made all of Sabiha’s scarves and hats for the winter.”

“I can’t ask a favor of a guest!”

“She will insist on repaying you for the hospitality, knitting is her go-to. But she’s not familiar with the climate here and probably doesn’t know it can get chilly enough on winter nights for a scarf. I’m telling you this for her sake, not yours.”

Reza knew Rory by now. She’d fret over how to thank Abdelmajid for hosting her without a strategically placed scarf comment.

“Anyway,” he switched to their one mutual language. “My dad’s a better cook than even I am— and much better than my sisters. You’ll refuse to eat my cooking again after his.”

“Speaking of your sisters,” Abdelmajid said, the sadness in his voice evident. “How are they? Are they really well?”

“Yes, baba. Lamia and Rory are actually best friends so she probably knows more than me. Fadela is as bitchy as usual, and stays alive by absorbing the tears of every man she meets.”

“Good girl, I raised her right.”

AURORA

Although she couldn’t be certain, Aurora was pretty sure that Reza had just been talking about her to his dad in Tunasian, the brat, and she narrowed her eyes at him with a pout. She was long used to Reza and his sisters talking about her to her face in a language she could never hope to understand, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. At least wait until she was out of the room!

Her pout faded at the mention of food, the young apprentice perking up with a smile. She had developed quite a taste for Tunisian food after spending nearly a year having dinner with Reza’s family at least once a week. She hadn’t come for the food, but she was certainly going to enjoy it. “Please, where else am I going to get my fix?” she joked. “You’ve seen my attempts at cooking Tunisian food; I will take what I can get.”

She snorted at the mention of Fadela, but nodded. “I’ve got pictures!” she said happily. “You have very photogenic children, sir,” she joked.

REZA

“Where el— yallah. Where else?” Reza said, mock offended, pressing a hand to his chest. “As if you eat anything but Tunisian food some weeks with all the leftovers Sabiha dutifully packs up for you.”

He playfully threw an ice cube from his glass of boukha at her. 

At his children being called photogenic, Abdelmajid’s ears perked up. “Would you like one? My oldest two will be forty soon and haven’t gotten married, it’s embarrassing.”

“Baba!” Reza gasped, choking on the liquor he was sipping. 

“I’m getting old! Even Hamdi got married before you! I want to see you and Fadela at least married before I die.” 

“Aish. Always with the guilt trip. I gave you a grandchild, that should be enough. Who wants a daughter-in-law anyway, you already raised two daughters, do you need a third?” Reza mumbled, switching accidentally to Tunisian midway through before mouthing an apology to Rory. “Please. Show him the pictures before he makes his full sales pitch.”

Once his father was good and distracted, Reza put their bags away in their respective rooms, his, in his old bedroom, and Rory’s in the room his sisters shared. He cracked the windows for airflow as the house didn’t have air conditioning, like most homes in Africa, fluffed the pillows in Rory’s room to make sure they were comfortable, and set out several blankets of varying materials and thickness so she could choose her favorite. Should he bring one to the living room in case she needs a sudden nap?

No, he decided, and walked out of the room. 

He scurried back into the bedroom to grab a blanket and brought it to the couch, placing it next to where Rory had been sitting without a word. 

“So is this less scary than the time you met my mother,  Ammah ‘Rora?” Reza joked, coming up behind the two of them. 

“You met Ingrid?” Abdelmajid gasped. “You poor thing. Did she interrogate you or go straight to fight?”

“She almost pulled her wand on her, baba.”

“Oh my.”

AURORA

Aurora ducked away from the ice cube with a light giggle, sticking her tongue out at Reza. For a moment, everything felt normal, like the last several months had never happened.

And then Abdelmajid asked if she would like to marry into the family and under her blushing cheeks, her smile froze and strained. Thank god she had worn a shirt that covered her chest. She played it off with a small laugh, reaching for her necklace. "I don't think that'll happen," she said lightly, trying to sound joking and falling ever so slightly flat. Thankfully, Reza offered her the perfect opportunity for a distraction and Aurora quickly pulled out her phone.

She spent the next several minutes next to Reza's father on the couch, showing him all the pictures she had taken over the past two years. Her and Lamia's various outings, Sabiha during rehearsal for Les Mis and hanging out in the shop, she and Fadela pranking Reza during lessons. The whole nine yards. It was enough to help her put her heartache on the back burner.

She glanced up briefly when Reza came back in, doing a double take when she noticed the blanket in his arms before he set it down next to her without a word. A part of her melted, the other part wanted to cry. Why couldn't he just continue to be pissed at her? At least then her heart wouldn't have whiplash.

Aurora's cheeks flushed again as they brought up her first meeting with Ingrid Muller. "In her defense, I didn't make a stellar first impression. I may have kicked in the door while cursing Reza out pretty loudly," she admitted, shrinking a little into the couch.

REZA

Reza hummed thoughtfully and chewed on his lower lip. Aurora was right, sure, but he also could’ve been more clear in his text message that he wasn’t mad at her. 

“Meh, it was my fault you were mad enough to storm in the door.” Reza said, shrugging a shoulder. 

“And my mother is notoriously trigger happy. Baba’s just a teddy bear, and a much better cook than her. I won’t be able to eat my cooking again after being back home.”

Reza jumped up to sit on the counter. “So what do you want to do while we’re here? We probably have a few days before— ” before Mekki’s location is locked in on and I do some murder “— business. Hammamet is touristy there’s plenty to do. You can ask Baba to go along with you if I ever sleep in.”

AURORA

Aurora still hid her face in her hands at the memory of her meeting Reza's mom, even as he tried to reassure her. It had certainly not been her finest moment.

Once she could look back up, she shrugged bashfully. "I uh, didn't really have time to put together an itinerary, so I honestly don't know," she admitted. She was here for Reza first and foremost, touring the city second. But she did want to explore! 

She looked at Abdelmajid with a smile. "What do you think would be good to see?" she asked curiously.

REZA

“You mean you didn’t put together a detailed itinerary while chasing me down at the airport? Get your shit together, ‘Rora.” Reza teased, easily, like being around his father again had erased all of the awkwardness between him and Aurora for the better part of this year.

Reza had said that in English, so Abdelmajid only smiled, as he didn’t quite understand all of that. Instead, he turned to Aurora and responded in French. “Every girl in Hammamet has an Instagram picture of them at the Kasbah with the caption ‘Rock The Casbah.’ It’s historic and overlooks the Mediterranean. I can take you one morning. I took great Instagram pictures for my daughters, my son was always too busy working for Sabiha or fighting for social justice to have very much fun. He’s an all-or-nothing kind of person, unfortunately.”

What was with his family and constantly roasting him in front of Aurora? Fuckin’ hell.

“Have him take you to the Medina of Hammamet, the old town. Its colorful, gorgeous to look at, and the restaurants are nice there. The Musee des Religions is good if you want to learn about the history of Islam, Judaism, and Christianity in Tunisia. Historic mosques...oh! The beaches are beautiful.” Abdelmajid waved a hand dismissively. “Just tell Reza to do whatever you think sounds interesting. Tell him I said to do whatever you say.”

AURORA

In cheerful English that she hoped Abdelmajid really couldn’t understand, Aurora brightly told Reza to “Bite me~.” But she was grinning as she did, more than a little grateful that Reza was happy enough to be home that he forgot he was mad with her / annoyed with her / avoiding her.

Aurora turned her attention back to Abdelmajid, listening curiously and giggling as he casually read his son for filth during his impromptu tourist ad. As the older man went on, his voice took on almost a rhythm, and suddenly Aurora felt lightheaded and tired. Fuck, had she taken her meds? She must have forgotten in the scramble to reach the airport in time to catch Reza. 

Without her permission, her head listed to the side, leaning against the back of the couch. Her giggle came out soft and slurred as her eyelids started to drop. “I will,” she murmured, fighting to stay awake. “My mom’s from a beach town. I love the ocean.”

REZA

“Ah, this happens all the time.” Reza explained.

He honestly wasn’t sure how to say the exact word ‘narcolepsy’ in Djerba - the word for Tunisian Arabic - so he did his best to describe it to his father in their native tongue as he moved to scoop up Aurora and the blanket. Abdelmajid seemed to understand and helped Reza adjust the blanket around her.

“I’ll take her to the girls’ old room for a nap. Thank you for cleaning it on such short notice. She all but physically fought her way onto the plane.”

Abdelmajid tried very, very hard not to smack his son upside the head, but alas, his son was just that much of an idiot.

“Ow! Baba?”

Abdelmajid didn’t need to say it, Reza knew. She’s in love with you, you emotionally illiterate jackwagon.

AURORA

She was still awake enough to struggle against being scooped up, but too tired to do more than wiggle a little and whine “Nooooo” in a voice thick and slow with sleep. She was pouting as Reza pulled her into his arms, but that didn’t stop her from letting her head flop against his collarbone as she curled tighter close to him. She wasn’t often awake enough to remember when Reza picked her up, and somewhere in her sleepy mind something soft and warm settled over her.

She felt small and safe and warm, and with one last attempt to thank Abdelmajid for the blanket - which came out more like a Very Scottish Mumble of Sounds - she let herself sink into dark, dreamless sleep.

[symbolism-of-a-rose]

SO, again it is Rune Factory’s 12th anniversary weekend. And I finally pulled out my laptop, so here’s the beginning of a fanfic that I’ve started writing. I actually started this a while back, before the weekend was announced and... yeah. 

Behold, my theoretical plot for Rune Factory 5: The Wooly Revolution This is Chapter 1 (it’s unfinished, but getting there. I’m up to chapter 7 or so)

Spring 1, Year 1

I woke up to rain. It splattered across my face and dripped down my neck. The sky above me was a blurry blue-gray between the feathered foliage of overhanging trees. For a moment I just allowed myself to breathe. There was an ache in my head, near the base of my skull and crawling toward the top. The air was cold. It sat like the last dregs of winter in my mouth. The ground beneath my back made me shiver. Oddly, it was dry. Pieces clicked together. I must have been lying there before it started raining.

How had I gotten there? Had I meant to-

Blond hair and blue eyes suddenly popped into my view. “You alright?” a young man asked, his eyebrow quirked in a curious face of concern. A brown headband did little to tame the sunny spikes protruding from his scalp. He looked like a traveller of some kind. He offered a hand to help me up.

I took it, looking around at my surroundings. It was a forest, densely populated. I could hear birds, monsters, and other small animals rustling in the underbrush.

Oddly, though, it did nothing to remind me of how I got there. Or why I was there in the first place.

Or, I realized with horror, who I was.

“Can you talk at all?” the man tried again. Now that I was standing, I could see that he was shorter than I expected. He stood at least four inches shorter than myself. That wasn’t normal-- was it?

I blinked at him. “I-- yeah.” I ran through a few ways to broach the subject with him. Did he know who I was? Was I supposed to know him?

“Do I know you?” I asked finally.

The man smiled as if I had made a joke. “Hmm?” he shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I was just heading to Laine up the way and saw you here. Did you hit your head?”

I rubbed my head experimentally. Sure enough, there was a sore patch right on the crown of my scalp. I winced.

The man nodded sympathetically. “Let’s head into town together.” He shivered slightly in the cold. His head tilted to the side and he made a strange face. “Sounds to me like you’ve got some amnesia.” He smiled reassuringly at me. “But I’m sure there’s a place up ahead where you can live out the rest of your life in relative peace without anyone from your previous life ever showing up.” He started walking before I had a chance to figure out any of the words he had just said. Had he started speaking a different language while I wasn’t paying attention?

“Wait what?” I asked as I jogged to catch up with him.

“I’m Micah,” he said cheerily as he continued to walk through the forest. “Do you remember your name?”

“Uhhh….” Did I remember my name? “It’s Elle.”

“Elle? Nice name,” he said brightly. “And, if you don't mind my asking, are you a guy or girl?”

I made a face without thinking, starting at Micah in disbelief. “What?” He just stared at my face as calm as can be as if he hadn't just asked one of the oddest questions I had ever heard in my life.

Which, considering I could only remember the past few minutes, didn't say much. I sighed. “A girl.”

“Awesome!” He smiled. “Do you remember your birthday?”

“Ah…” no. I did not. “Maybe the beginning of winter?”

“Sounds good!” His smile broadened as he pointed ahead to a place where the trees suddenly cleared. “Look! There's Laine!”

We broke through the last line of trees. For the briefest moment, the world seemed to hang on a breath, my heart hovering between one beat and the next. Mist hung low over the rolling grasslands, leading down toward a small village near the coastline’s edge. A cluster of buildings were huddled together against the chill from a spring breeze carried from across the ocean. Some were small, homes perhaps. Others were robust and comparatively full of life-- smoke curling from chimneys and doors fearlessly tossed open in defiance of the chill.

“It’s beautiful,” I said quietly, my voice lost in a gust of wind.

I glanced at Micah at my side. His eyebrows were knit together in a look of confusion. “Something’s not right,” he muttered. He took off at a run down the path that led to the cluster of sea-worn buildings.

Without thinking, I followed him. What did he mean something wasn’t right? Did he live there? Were we about to run into a mess?

Probably. But I followed him regardless.

We arrived in the town, breathing heavy. I curled forward with my hands on my knees as I struggled to be able to ask one of the thousands of questions that were starting to bubble into my mind. Micah was looking around as if he expected to be greeted by someone or something.

When I finally thought I might be able to say something, a scream interrupted my intake of breath.

I turned my head this way and that, looking for the source. There were sturdy wooden structures like homes or businesses, but it took me a moment before I found the person who was screaming. It was a group of children playing outside the porch of one of the bigger buildings. About half a dozen of them were chasing one another. A small, dark-skinned boy was at the head of the pack, running away from the other five with a stick in his hand.

“Jerome! Get back here!”

“Big Bully- gimme back my stick!”

“Heeee~eey!!!! That’s not yours, it’s my turn!”

“Get him!!!”

The kids ran until they came running toward me. For a second I wondered if they would stop. They didn’t and my second of hesitation was a second too long. For the second time in all of the half an hour of my life, I found myself looking up at the sky with gentle water drops finding their way into the awkward crevasses of my neck.

“Ah now,” said a wizened voice, thick with sarcastic intent. “Look what y’all did. You nearly killed this poor girl.”

“It’s Jerome’s fault!” said a different voice. “He took my stick!”

I sat up, blinking and trying to again make sense of my surroundings. An old man, judging by the wrinkles in his skin and the white hairs on his head, stood with crossed arms and an expression that told me I was in trouble. He wore simple but hardy clothes, he looked like a worker of some kind, like a blacksmith or carpenter. He also had that air of authority that told me I should probably respect him or find myself in a world of social inconvenience.

But why the heck am I in trouble? I wondered. I’m the one they knocked over!

“Maybe less poor than just stupid,” the man said, nodding to himself. “That’s what you get for standing there like a gaping fish.”

Don’t agree with yourself! I thought bitterly, standing and trying, vainly, to brush the mud off my clothes. It occurred to me that I hadn’t noticed what I was wearing earlier. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to think about it now either.

“You alright, Elle?” Micah asked, seeming to have only just realized that I had fallen.

“I'm fine,” I said, not sure if I really was.

“Good,” he said. He turned his attention to the old man. “Is there a shrine or temple or anything nearby?”

“You need to make a confession?” The man squinted at Micah.

“Ignore him,” a new voice said behind us. We turned to the newcomer, an old woman was standing there with a small child on either side of her. She was elderly more than old. She seemed like the stately kind of woman who took charge of almost any situation. She wore a long green-gray dress with a high neck and long sleeves. Her hands were folded in front of her nicely. I envied the neat way she tied up her hair. My hair kept falling into my face no matter how many times I pushed it back.

“I tend the shrine here,” the woman continued. She shot a look at the old man and sniffed. “Rooty’s just a lazy sack of bones.”

I glanced at the man, wondering if this was normal. I didn't really have much to compare it to. But the words didn’t seem to sting their intended recipient.

The old man, Rooty, smiled sardonically in response. “Sally.” the way he said her name made me think they were probably old friends. “Wonderful to see your rheumatism kept you from bringing the kids on time.” He paused. “Again.”

“Old coot,” she sniffed. Gently, she nudged the children toward the building.

“In any case,” the woman said, keeping an eye on the children as they ran past me, Micah and Rooty. “If you need to see the shrine, I'd be happy to show you.” She bowed respectfully, finally turning her eye to Micah. “I'm Salina.”

Micah’s shoulders fell in relief. “Thanks a bunch,” he said as his face fell into a smile. He looked at me and gestured to Rooty. “You should probably stay here. I bet Rooty knows where the farm is.”

I blinked. “What farm?” I asked. Had we been looking for a farm? Was I forgetting something?

He laughed as if it hadn't occurred to him that this needed explaining. “The farm where you'll be living from here on out.” He waved as he hurried to follow after Salina, leaving me there with more and more questions by the moment.

I looked back at Rooty. He was scratching his head. He looked at me. “You're here to start a farm?” He asked dubiously. He eyed me in a way that said he didn’t think I was suited to the farm life.

I shrugged. “I don't know. He found me unconscious in the woods. I don't remember how I got there or where I'm from or anything else for that matter.”

Rooty grunted and started to turn back down the road. “Well, your friend wasn't lying. There's a farm just over that way that hasn't been tended to in years.” He turned back to see that I was following. “C’mon, follow me.”

“Waaiiitt!!! Jerome still hasn't given me back the stick! It's my turn!!”

Rooty turned sharply toward the child who spoke. “You had better get into Miss Charity. You know how she gets if you're late.”

All the children suddenly stiffened before taking off at a full sprint toward the schoolhouse. I wondered briefly what kind of woman Miss Charity was, but then Rooty was walking off again. I had to jog to keep up with him. How was an old man so fast?

“The farm's this way. There's a little house attached to it that no one’s using. I don't know if it has any furniture or anything but you're welcome to have it.” His words flowed so quickly I hardly had the brain power to interpret them. “The seed shop’s owner’s been out of town for a while. Their son is taking care of it for the time being. A no-good delinquent, if truth be told, but there you have it. Luckily he's got that girl keeping an eye on him, but she's as naive as they come. You’ll find the shop if you poke around town for a bit. The carpenter’s shop is open, but I don't know what services they're offering this time of year.”

He kept up a rattling account of names and shops and places in town with a solid complaint against each of them. Somehow, even though his words were harsh, I got the impression he was quite proud of his town.

“And if you know anything about monsters, then you’d be welcome to try to cross the forest. But if ya don’t then steer clear. It’s a dangerous place these days what with--.” he coughed suddenly, interrupting himself. “What with everything.”

“What do you me--?”

“And here we are!” he interrupted me, gesturing to a dilapidated shack beside a weed-infested field of stumps and boulders.

It struck me that the area outside of town, the way that Micah and I had come into the town proper, would be much better suited to farming, but I decided to say nothing so not to seem ungrateful. Rooty looked at me expectantly as if either waiting for my complete dismay or complete adoration. I settled for a half-hearted, “Wow.”

Rooty turned away, but not before I saw a smile form on his face. “This’ll be your home from now on. Take good care of it.” He started to return the way we had come. “If you need me, I’ll call ya.” He waved without looking back.

“Wait, what?!” I looked after him, rooted to the spot. He just kept waving and walking until he was out of sight. I looked back at the shack. A large blackbird swooped overhead and lighted on the crest of the roof.

“What?” I said, quieter, to myself. I stood there staring for a long moment. More birds flew around. My head began to throb painfully and I shivered with a cold breeze that tore through the dress I wore.  

I made my way to the little hut. At least the wind wouldn’t be able to reach me inside, right?

Surprisingly, the inside was much cozier than the outside might lead one to believe. It was only a single room with a small washroom attached to one side. There was a small space with a table and a single three-legged stool to the left of the front door. To the right, there was an old mattress on a wooden frame. A small apple crate was placed next to it with a single candle stub and a worn book.

I moved toward the book, curious. Inside was a diary belonging to someone named Cucumber who had run a farm there a long time ago. Without hesitation, I tore out the pages belonging to Cucumber and began to write my own entry, explaining everything that had happened to me thus far.

Just as I finished, my door was thrown open. The roof shuddered and dust flitted down from the ceiling. I froze, fearing that the house would fall down on top of me. Then I saw Micah standing there in the doorway, eyes wild and a giant grin on his face. “Holy Native Dragons, Elle, you’ve got to see this!”

He paused when he saw me with the open book in my lap. He grinned. “Oh, hey! You found the diary! So Rooty already explained everything to you about the farm, yeah?”

“Ah,” I closed the book, not wanting Micah to see my descriptions of him. “No, not really. But I think I’ve got the jist of this part at least.”

“Well lemme explain the rest reeally quick, then-- you’re absolutely not gonna believe it-- anyway--.”

He shot off in an explanation that was almost entirely lost on me. At first he said things like “check through your inventory with the [L] button” and then “equip with the [A] button” and “You can use it with the [B] button, but be careful because sometimes you’ll get stuck using a move and get killed by a monster mid-stroke.”

I stared at him blankly until he was done, physically feeling the words bounce right off my head. He finally finished miming a stroke from a weapon of some kind and put his hands on his hips. “Make sense?” he asked.

My head fell to my hands and I wished that I had never regained consciousness. “How did you make that sound with your mouth?”

Micah ignored me and turned toward a chest I hadn’t noticed against the far wall of my hut. “Oh, hey,” he said, moving closer to it, “I bet this has your farming equipment.” He opened it and started rummaging through it.

Horrifyingly, the sounds that came from it sounded significantly more echo-y than they should have for a container so small. I moved to examine the chest over Micah’s shoulder. My mouth fell open. Inside, the box was significantly wider and deeper than it should have been.

“How-?”

“I know,” Micah said in a tone of weary dismay. “But it’s always like this.” He pulled out an ax that definitely shouldn’t have fit inside the box, to begin with. He examined it and sighed discontentedly. “This couldn’t cut a twig, let alone a tree.”

I sighed, realizing I had expected his answer this time.

“Don’t worry,” he said, patting my shoulder as he misinterpreted my exasperation. “I’m sure the blacksmith in town can help you upgrade them eventually.”

I hummed in response, wanting nothing more than to sink into unconsciousness and hope that this was all just a bad dream. Micah seemed to notice my despair. He sighed, glancing out the open door. “Well, I guess it can wait until tomorrow,” he said. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll be back tomorrow morning to help you figure out the farming stuff-- heck, I bet I can find you some seeds from the shop in town as well!”

With that, he turned on his heel, smiling back as he shut the door softly. “Sleep well!”

I listened to the crunch of his boots against stone as he walked away toward town. Eventually, they faded into the cawing of birds and the whistle of the wind over my rooftop. Wearily, I turned on my bed so I was sitting on my knees and facing the window. I gently pulled the dusty curtain back, worried that the touch would cause the gentle fabric to disintegrate.

The scene outside was just as it had been when I’d first seen it-- bleak. From this angle, I could see the rickety wooden fence that marked the edge of the cliff. I made a mental note to never wander too close-- or fix up the wall later when I knew more about that kind of thing.

With the window open, I curled up on the mattress. It felt stiff and musty. As I closed my eyes, I wondered if maybe I’d regain my memories once I woke up. Maybe I’d know my way home. Maybe I’d remember my family…. Maybe I’d… Maybe…. Remember.

The sun’s fading light threw a perfect square of light into my face, waking me with some gentle warmth. I pulled the curtain closed, blinking until I could see again. The small room was a warm orange now. I noticed things I hadn't before: the small fireplace in one corner, the large mirror on the wall beside the washroom.

Slowly, I sat up. My head didn't ache as much, to my great relief.

Sadly, I still remembered nothing from before I woke up in the forest. The thought left me feeling somewhat melancholic. I took a deep breath. Better to mourn it now and accept my lot then let it fester for later.

I might have a family somewhere. They might come looking for me. Or they might not. I might have people waiting for me. Or I might not. In the end, whatever happened in regards to my past, this place was my new home. And I would make the most of it.

I recorded these thoughts in my diary. I didn't realize I was crying until the ink began to blur.

What made it all the worse was the fact that I didn't even know what I was mourning. I didn't know what I was supposed to be missing. I didn't know what home I had left behind or what friends I had now abandoned.

But all the same. All the same. I had a new life. New people. I could be happy here. I just had to try, right?

My stomach growled, interrupting my soliloquy. I winced, wondering where I'd be able to get food. The hut didn't look particularly well-stocked. I began to pat the sides of my dress. Maybe I had pockets and money inside of them.

Sure enough, I found a store of money in my inventory with just about three thousand gold pieces. I hoped that would be enough for a meal in town. And some seeds. Maybe tomorrow I’d be able to get a start on fixing the farm.

I stood and stretched. My back popped. I winced. Moving toward the washroom, I caught a glimpse of myself for the first time in my memory.

I was obviously a woman. Micah’s question came back to my mind and I made a face. The dress I wore was well-cared for if not just a bit dirty. I could see places where someone-- myself, perhaps?-- had patched the seams and tears. It fell past my knees where I could see my torn stockings. They were knit with some kind of twisting pattern around my calves. Boots that laced up just past my ankle were tied onto my feet. They seemed scuffed and a little worn, but in good condition overall.

“So that’s what I look like,” I said, finally looking up at my face. There were splotches where dirt had clung to the rain on my face. My hair, probably a dusty brown, was currently just dusty. It might have been in a braid at some point, but I looked a bit like a wild child.

For a moment, looking into my eyes, I thought there was something wrong with them. But the moment passed. They were a deep fuschia color. Pinkish, but maybe that was just the setting light.

I moved to the washroom to clean myself off slightly. Maybe even brush my hair. I found the room to be better stocked than I had first anticipated. There were even some old, worn clothes. They were cleaner than what I was wearing so I put them on. It wasn’t anything flattering, but it seemed that I might be able to sew, so maybe I could take them in a little to fit me better.

I set my dirty clothes aside with the intent to wash them later when I returned. My stomach hurried me along toward the town again. Feeling refreshed and ready to eat the best meal that a poor amnesiac could afford, I threw open the door--

Only to have someone knock against my forehead with a sharp knuckle.

I spluttered and ducked, rubbing my forehead.

“Oh, gods, I’m so sorry-- I didn’t-- gods--.”

“Ahh,” I hissed. This kid had the knuckles of a palm cat. I blinked at the wood floors beneath my boots. Did I know what a palm cat was?

“Are you alright?”

I finally looked up at the man on my doorstep. His face was golden with the setting sun. His hair was sandy, nearly blending in with his skin. His purple shirt glinted with silver threads. He was tall and reasonably built, not gangly nor threateningly large. All that being said, if he wanted to pick a fight, I was pretty sure I could take him.

“Mmm, yeah,” I said, straightening. “Er… Sorry about that.”

His eyes widened comically. “What? No, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have--- gods, I’m so sorry. I should have been paying attention.” He was waving his hands. I found myself smiling at him. He was cute.

A blush spread across his face. “Really, I-- sorry-- I’m here because Granny Sal sent me. She said you’d probably be hungry and Rooty forgot to feed you before dropping you off and she’s with the twins right now and Rooty’s at the orphanage, of course, and-- gods, I’m rambling I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” I laughed for the first time. I noticed the box in his hands. “Is that for me?”

“Yes!” he said as if he had just remembered. With his arms stiff as sticks, he extended the box toward me. “It’s a dinner-- and there’s probably enough for breakfast tomorrow as well.”

I accepted the box. “Thank you, I was just thinking I was hungry.” My stomach growled to emphasize my point.

“I- uh.” from his other hand he lifted a second box. “Sal gave me one as well, so that I could join you, if you don’t mind the company?”

I blinked in surprise. Given what I had seen of Sal-- well, I had only seen her for a minute. Maybe she made a habit of making sure no one ate by themselves. “Of course not,” I replied.

I didn’t need to glance behind me to see the dusty, unwelcoming interior of my home. “Shall we eat outside?”

“Sure!” he beamed, clearly relieved that I had accepted. “There’s a place over there--,” he pointed toward the cliff, “--where a lot of us like to come to watch the sea. It’s a nice spot, is it okay if we eat there?”

As nervous as I was about the cliff and the rickety fence, I followed him there. The fence was even more rickety than I had imagined. Pieces of wood were just a nudge away from falling to the churning water below. He led me past the fence, around to a little flight of stairs leading down to a large shelf of sand and grass.

“Sometimes Will comes here to fish,” he explained. “Juliette and I come with him every now and again. It’s also a great spot for the fireworks festival next month. We don’t talk about it in town though, Rooty goes off on us hard if we do. He doesn’t want the kids thinking that it’s okay to get this close to the cliff.”

I nodded as if I understood what he was saying while we found our way to a rickety bench against the cliff face. Then I realized I had no idea who he was talking about, apart from Rooty and the kids. “I’m sorry, who is Will and Juliette?”

The man, who still hadn’t introduced himself either, laughed self-consciously. “Right, sorry, I forgot that you haven’t met everyone in town yet.” He opened the box of his dinner and began eating as he explained. “Will, Juliette, and I all work at Charlie’s Inn. Will’s-- well, he’s supposed to be an entertainer, a juggler, but he’s more of a glorified waiter.” He chuckled again. “Juliette helps me with the music sometimes, but she’s more of a hostess. She’s kind of like the face of the Inn.”

“So you’re a musician?” I asked, not really wanting to take my attention away from the best meal I could ever remember having. If Sal’s cooking was this good, then I think any sense of melancholy would be lost with my expanding waistline.

“Mm-Hm,” he said around a bite. “I stick to the piano for the most part-- you should hear Juliette on the violin, though. She’s incredibly talented!”

I glanced at him. The tone in his voice, he was so proud of his friend. He also seemed the type to deflect any sort of compliment away from himself. Again, I wondered, how do I know that?

“I’m sorry,” I said suddenly, hoping to finally get his name. “I never introduced myself. I’m Elle.”

He blinked at me in surprise. “I knew--” his face changed suddenly. “Oh! I didn’t introduce myself either, I’m so sorry!” He shifted to turn toward me and bowed slightly. “I’m Hammond, it’s an honor to meet you, Elle.”

“You as well, Hammond,” I smiled at him.

He chatted more about the townsfolk. I heard another half dozen names that seemed to just slip through my mind without any sort of intention of staying there. He was very animated as he spoke, very enthusiastic about all the wonderful qualities of everyone in the town. His voice had such a gentle quality. It was pleasing to hear.

The sun sank past the horizon, setting the mist aflame as it said it’s final adieu. Hammond had been right, it was a very nice spot. The temperature was still chilly, but I could see the summers passing with townsfolk celebrating at the cliff’s edge. It was oddly… idyllic.

“I should probably get going,” Hammond said as the night began to settle in a fair shade of lavender. He collected both of our boxes (neither of us had left enough leftovers worth saving) and tucked them under his arm. “I’ll walk you back to your house.”

“Thank you,” I said. “And thank you for bringing these, the food and company were both much needed.”

Another blush formed across his face. “Ah! You’re welcome!”

I watched his retreating form disappear toward town again. I leaned against the bottom half of the door-- which Hammond had shown me how to separate. I wondered if the townsfolk really were as wonderful as he had painted them to be. I hoped I could see them as optimistically as he did.

[singulari-taee]

The Danger in Duality | 05

COLLEGE! AU  |  ASSASSIN! AU  |  ANGST  | SMUT  | COMEDY |  8.5k

BTS X Reader

“You and your seven squad members must take on the struggles of being world-class assassins while also living as full-time college students.”

    The sunlight was painful when your eyes finally adjusted. You groaned, stretching out onto the empty spot next to you. There was a moment of confusion in your morning haze as your brain caught up to the night before.

    Oh, right. He had been there last night. In a last ditch effort to calm your nerves, you let him sleep up there with you. Yoongi, your smart-mouthed squad member, of all people.

    Everything looked as if usually did--nothing out of place, the blanket from the floor neatly folded on your dresser. It made you wonder if he was ever there in the first place. Your hand went to your waist, left with the ghost traces of his touch. The whole thing was so strange, you thought. In all your years of knowing him, you never took him for a cuddler. But for some reason, you weren’t completely put off by it. And that’s what worried you the most.

     Whipping your covers off, you began your daily routine as you got ready for classes. You went to wash the dishes that you had left on the table the night before. Though to your surprise, they were already clean in the dish rack.

    Your eyebrows knitted together. Luna must have washed them when she got in, you figured. Shit, you couldn’t keep up with the piling debt of favors you owed her anymore. You sighed, turning on your heels as you left the apartment.

________________________

      Classes passed slowly. It was the usual--everyone played on their phones, took naps mid-lecture, and asked dumb questions that could have been answered if they had just done the fucking reading.This only added to the painful Thursday lull.

     You trekked across campus towards the boys’ apartment, a kind of solace when the day came to an end. You began to run down your mental to-do list. Begin research for your history project, send a couple emails, sharpen your knives, do your calculus homework, update your kill log, and maybe even go to the gym since you hadn’t had a mission in 2 weeks. You’d try to get some of the boys to come if you could--Jungkook would go for sure, that kid practically lived in the gym.

     Crossing the street, a familiar frame walked toward you. The petite girl waved almost frantically with a wide smile.

   “Hey!” you expected her to walk past, but she parked in front of you on the sidewalk, “How’s it going?”

     You shifted feet awkwardly, looking past her at the apartment building that was just so close. “Okay I guess. Just glad to be done with classes...you?”

      “Not so good,” Luna sighed, “I went to the library to print something for a class but all the machines were broken. I have to turn in my assignment in an hour or I’m screwed.”

     “Damn, that sucks.”

   She turned over her shoulder, “Oh, don’t your friends live there?” she asked, pointing to the building behind her.

    “Yeah, I was just headed over there now actually.”

     “Do you think they have a printer I could use? It would only be like 2 seconds!”

   In the back of your mind, you saw the loud machine that sat unused in the corner of their living room, collecting dust over the months.

    “If they don’t it’s okay I guess, but I just really need one. This assignment is worth like 10% of my grade and if I don’t get it in then my average is dead and I already know I won’t be able to bring it up if the midterm is anything like the last exam and….”

     You watched her ramble on, stressing. As you came to your conclusion, you already knew the boys would kill you for it later.

    “Yeah I think they do,” you said slowly, “Come on, I’ll bring you.”

   She launched into a string of ‘thank yous’, and you immediately pulled your phone from your pocket and typed in the groupchat.

----------------------- You: HIDE EVERYTHING!!

Namjoon: ???

Hoseok: What?

You: IM COMING OVER IN 2 MINS WITH LUNA HIDE EVERYTHING

Seokjin: WHY

Taehyung: omg

Jimin: wtf???

Seokjin: _____ we have 3 assault rifles, a machete, and a dozen poison darts on the kitchen table WHAT are we supposed to do with them??

You: IDK HURRY AND FIGURE IT OUT ALMOST THERE SORRY

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

       Luna had been speaking the entire time you typed. You caught some words, responding with grunts in between as you climbed the stairs to the 2nd floor. You nodded and gave what little reactions you could to draw out the walk in feigned interest, but the distance to the door only shortened. Your feet dragged along the floor, still covered in wet footprints from the rain of the night before. In no time you were in front of the wooden barrier, and you begrudgingly brought up your fist to give 3 slow knocks.

      When the door opened, Namjoon stood in the doorway. A tight smile was spread across his face as glanced over you and Luna. You knew he was trying to hide his heavy breathing.

      You looked past him into the living room, where the others were casually splayed across the sofas.

     Too casually. The place was never this quiet. Or clean.

     “Hi,” he said as he opened the door to let you both walk in, “I’m Namjoon.”

     “Hey, nice to meet you, I’m Luna.” she said as she reached out to shake his hand. She waved at the boys, “I’ve only heard about you but I’m glad to finally meet you guys!”

    “Same to you,” Hoseok said, sparing a glance up from his laptop to smile.

     “Luna was wondering if she could use your printer for an assignment,” you said.

    “It’ll be really fast then I’ll be out of your hair,” she said.

     “Yeah sure, it’s over here,” Namjoon said and walked her over.

     You made your way over to a free spot on the sofa, the entire way feeling eyes digging into your face. When you finally gave in to look at them, you turned to see several stares, mixed with all of the confusion and annoyance you were expecting.

  ‘What.The. Fuck?!’ Jimin mouthed.

   You shrugged, “Sorry!”

     Seokjin was making a scene with his body, arms flailing as he wordlessly screamed at you.

     “You’re lifesavers, you have no idea,” Luna said as she turned around.

     Seokjin froze, arms awkwardly placed above his head. He beamed, his smile as bright as it was fake, “I’m glad we could help.”

      The printer loudly spit out the papers, and Luna placed them in her backpack, “I really hate to do this, but can I use your bathroom before I go?”

     There was a pause around the room.

     “Uh yeah sure, you can use Seokjin’s. It’s back here,” Namjoon said, leading her down the hall. His was definitely the best option. His room was always the cleanest, and free of weapons.

      Namjoon walked back into the living room, and everyone listened intently for the sound of the bathroom door closing. You could already feel the energy building, and you knew all of that pent up pressure would explode soon enough. When the light sound of the door came, everyone turned to you and erupted in heated whispers.

     “_____, seriously?!” Hoseok spat.

     “Your roommate?!” Jimin said.

     “We had to stuff everything in the couch and in the pantries!” Jungkook said, “I almost stuck myself with a dart trying to rush!”

     You held your hands up, “HEY! I said I was sorry! I couldn’t just let her fail her assignment.”

    “I mean, you could have,” Jimin said.

     Yoongi snorted. He was sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, shaking his head. He hadn’t said anything since you had walked in, an out of character move to say the least. He’d be the first person you’d expect to dig into you over something like this, clawing into you with some backhanded comment that was bound to make you both go back and forth until someone intervened. But no, he was silent.

      The evening news had began, the anchor’s drawl calling everyone’s attention. Watching local news as a group had always been a good way to keep your eyes out for potential crimes and missions you’d need to take care of later.

      The screen flashed with red letters reading ‘Breaking News’, as a mugshot of a young man appeared in the far corner. He was in terrible shape, face bruised and scratched, eyes tired and bloodshot. He seemed strangely familiar, the face triggering something in your memories that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Then it registered.

      “Wait...Jimin isn’t that your frat brother?” Seokjin asked.

     “Whoa, that is him,” Taehyung said, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa.

     “This man, Lee Haneul, walked into to the city police station this morning and reported himself for drug possession and possession with the intent to distribute. Lee carried many substances with him, including cocaine, several methamphetamines, and rohypnol, a common date rape drug.”  The anchor said.

     They showed a clip of Haneul in handcuffs being escorted to a police car, head down and out of it.

      “Police say that it was a very strange situation,” the reporter said, ”When the suspect was searched further, they were horrified to find that one of the man’s testicles had been severed. He did not state how it had occurred, saying that he could not recall. Investigators believe that it could be an effect of the drugs. The suspect is pleading guilty to all charges, and if prosecuted could face up to 20 years in prison.”

     The room turned to Jimin, who was suddenly interested in his fingernails.

    “You didn’t...” you said.

     “Jimin…” Taehyung began.

    “My God,” Namjoon sighed. 

    “Wow,” Hoseok said.

     He shrugged, “I told you I would handle it.”

     You stared open-mouthed at the boy, “You really cut one of his balls off?”

    “Yeah, why only one?” Jungkook asked.

    You could all hear the the sink run in the bathroom, and soon after the door opening.

   Luna walked into the living room and grabbed her backpack, “Thanks so much for everything, I couldn’t have done it without you--”

    Suddenly a kitchen cabinet flew open. Two pistols tumbled out as they clattered loudly onto the floor. Luna turned to the sound and you jumped up immediately.

      “Luna!” you were next to her in a second, bringing an arm around her shoulders,

     “You know it's no big deal, we’re all happy we could help you out!” you quickly guided her to the front door. You pulled it open and you walked her out.

     “You’re really the best, _____. Anyways, thanks again! It was nice meeting you all!” She called over her shoulder as you watched her walk down the stairs and out of sight.

     You closed the door, back against it as you took a deep breath.

   “She seems nice enough,”  said Hoseok.

   “I don’t know, I still get psycho vibes,” Jimin said.

     “Rich coming from the guy that just cut another man's balls off,” you said.

    “Correction, it was just one ball,” he said, “And he shouldn’t have been such a shitty person. I’m just handing out karma”

    “What are you going to do if he tells that you were the one who did it?” Taehyung asked.

    “After the night we had, believe me, he won’t say a thing.”

     As a member of the squad, none of you were supposed to use your abilities to take justice into your own hands outside of your given assignments. There was only an explicit rule about killing off the clock, and technically Jimin didn’t break that. Though torture was never banned, it was expected that you all would use your own moral compass and self control to make your own decisions. Jimin had gotten Haneul to turn himself in by his own means, effectively getting another dangerous criminal off the street. Technically, by The Academy’s standards, Jimin didn’t do anything wrong.

     “Let’s hope so. The last thing we need right now is for The Academy to get us out of some more shit,” Namjoon said, “After that gun incident they’re not too happy with us right now.”

     Everyone eventually went to find the weapons they had hidden around the apartment. Namjoon went to retrieve the AK-12 he had jammed under the kitchen sink, Jungkook pulled the poison darts from the couch cushions, Yoongi slid out the machete he had camouflaged under the wood of the fireplace. Everyone was working to get things back to normal, save for Hoseok. He was in the corner of the room, focus trained on his computer screen as he scribbled notes into one of his notebooks. You remembered him mentioning something about some big group project for his midterms coming up, and it seemed to be the bane of his existence lately. (“I have one request. When I die, I’d like for everyone in my group to lower me into my grave so they can let me down one last time.” he had said.)

    “I think that’s everything,” Seokjin said to the pile of weapons stacked on the coffee table.

    “No,” Jungkook began, “I put 12 darts in the couch and I can only find 11.”

    “It’s in there somewhere. Just don’t sit on the cushions too hard.”

    “Hey! They’re giving away free cheese fries at that fried chicken place on the corner today,” Taehyung announced as he pointed to an ad on his phone, “The deal is over at 8.”

    The place was a hole in the wall probably as old as the city itself, but the fries were so good you’d do shameful things to get them for free on any other day.

    It was now 7:40.

     “You’re shitting me! Why are we still standing here, let’s go,” you said.

    “The line is probably around the building,” Hoseok said, “I’m swamped with work and I have to meet with my group later. If its too busy then I can’t go.”

   “You need to eat though, right?”

    “They do have good fries…” he said to himself.

    Contemplation crossed Hoseok’s face before he gave in. Seconds later everyone was putting on their jackets and practically running out the door.

     Though the line wasn’t long, the inside of the restaurant was chaotic. Voices and clattering plates were the main soundtrack, the place filled with rambunctious college students and overwhelmed waiters.

    The group rushed to the only empty booth in the place. A frenzied waitress came over a few minutes later. She was quick in taking your orders, seeming to try her best to be hospitable but obviously overwhelmed by the buzzing around her.

     “Is your fried chicken batter made with onion powder?” Namjoon asked the waitress.

       There was a collective eye roll. It was a given that Namjoon would have some question about the food whenever you went out to eat. It would happen every time, without fail. It could be a place that you’ve all been to a dozen times, and he would still come up with something new to satisfy some newfound curiosity. (Are your Arnold Palmers more lemonade or sweet tea? How long do you grill your steaks for them to be considered well done? What’s the third most popular thing on the menu?)

    “Here we go again,” Jungkook muttered.

    “Is he serious?” Seokjin asked you.

     The girl seemed to snap out of her frenzied state. You could practically see her rewinding the question in her head, “Um, I’m not really sure but I can ask the kitchen.”

   “It's fine, we’ll all just have an order chicken and cheese fries for everyone. Thank you!” you said.

    She left the table how most waiters do when you all eat together, fast and confused.

    You turned to him. From his wide eyes and lanky armed shrug he clearly didn’t understand.

    “What? I read an article last night talking about the dangers of onion toxicity and wanted to be sure.”

     “You’re sitting in a restaurant with a C level sanitation rating and you’re worried about onion toxicity?” Yoongi asked.

    “Honestly, you could probably catch tetanus from just the forks in this place,” you said.

    “True, but the food is so good if I saw a hair in my fries I’d just mark it off as extra seasoning and keep eating,” Hoseok said, still writing in the notebook he had brought with him.

     None of you could say he was too wrong. It was just that good.

    “Fine whatever, enjoy your high blood pressure and onion-induced anemia,” Namjoon muttered.

     There was a collective ding! around the table. It was a familiar sound, one that made your heart rate speed up just the slightest out of habit. Your phones only made it when you were all being contacted by one entity in particular.

     You all immediately fished in your pockets with silent urgency. A long red message popped up on your screens.

_______

MISSION #43: IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED!

Mob Hideout uncovered.  

“The Menaces” :  Mob with drug smuggling focus. Crimes include murder, theft, arson, and drug distribution. Most influential with males ages 17+. Responsible for 15% of civilian murder deaths in last 3 months. The Menaces will be looking for new recruitments tonight within a group of interested young males at the top of the hour.

In-Location Scouts will need to be on site compiling information while acting as patrons of the casino. The “Recruitment” Plants will need to act as an interested candidates for the Mob and momentarily infiltrate. Security Surveillance will need to keep a watch for odd activity and notify those inside immediately.

Roles:

In-Location Scouts: Namjoon, Yoongi, _______, Jimin, Jungkook

“Recruitment” Plants: Hoseok, Taehyung

Security Surveillance: Seokjin

Location: Grand Castle Casino.

Recruitment in abandoned parking garage in south east wing.

Private rooms in south west wing serves as a brothel for high rollers, servers in casino also work there as prostitutes.

Find main target names, photos, and location coordinates below.

______

      You all met eyes for a brief moment before scrambling out of the booth and bolting for the door.

   “Everyone meet back at the apartment in 20!” Namjoon said.

    The group turned to run home, but Hoseok’s hands shot up.

   “Wait, wait, wait!” Hoseok said, “I can’t go.”

   “What?!” Namjoon asked.

    “I have this midterm group project remember? I have to meet with my group in half an hour and if I’m not there I know we’ll all fail.”

    “So you’re ditching the mission for a project?!” Jimin said, in disbelief, “Just text them and say something came up!”

   “You’re one of the biggest roles in this mission, we need you!” Taehyung said.

   “It’s due tomorrow and we’re not even close to being done! My grade is already shit, I need this. This mission came out of nowhere what do you want me to do?!” Hoseok said.

   “Come!” Jimin said.

   “Whatever, we’ll figure it out later, lets just go!” Namjoon said.

    You were at your apartment in record time. You slung open your bedroom door, digging through your closet and throwing random clothes on the bed. It was rare that you all got surprise missions like this. But when you did, everyone took it even more seriously than the others. The Academy wasn’t one to send you out unprepared, so if they said a mission needed to be completed immediately, it was urgent.

    That’s why it was irksome that Hoseok bailed. Even though it wasn’t planned, and you knew he had been working on this project for a while, no one had ever just decided to not come on a mission before. It was unheard of, and you couldn’t even imagine what The Academy would say if they ever found out.

     You threw on a black cocktail dress, hiking it up to slide two small combat knives into the hidden bands on your thigh. You had packed on more muscle since last time you wore it so it was more fitting than you remembered it to be, but you didn’t have time to be picky.

   You rushed to the boys’ place, running up at the same time as Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin, who were all panting as they carried their weapon cases. The oldest boys come bolting down the stairs.

    The squad jogged over to the parking lot towards the van. Seokjin usually parked in the same place every day, so it was to your surprise when the spot was empty. From the look on his face, he was just as surprised as you.

   “The van is gone,” he whispered, head whipping as he scanned the lot.

“What do you mean the van is gone?!” Jungkook asked.

     “The van is gone! It was here earlier today, and now it’s not!” he barked, “Somebody stole my van!”

    “You sure you didn’t just forget where you parked?” Taehyung asked.

   “I park in the same place every goddamn day! All my monitors, locators, mics-- everything was in there! How am I supposed to do my job?!” Seokjin grabbed fistfuls of his hair, beside himself.

    “We don’t have the time for this! We’ll find the van later Seokjin, we have a mission right now,” Namjoon snapped, “Okay, the casino is near downtown, right? So, the best option for us would be.... to take the train.”

   “The train,” Jimin said, flatly. It was less of a question and more of a ‘are you serious?’ statement.

   “Any other bright ideas, then? Our main mode of transportation is god knows where right now, I don’t see any other alternatives, Jimin,” he said, “The station is 2 blocks from campus, 5 from here. We can make it if we run.”

    If Namjoon of all people was saying you should run, you knew this was literally the only option you had.

    “Look, he’s right. We don’t have the choice to be picky. Let’s just go,” you huffed.

    You all shared a look, then picked up your feet to run to the station. The looks you all got were nothing compared to the night of the frat party. You passed groups of your peers, turning to look back twice at the group of 7 careening down the sidewalk.

   You all rushed to the ticket office.

   “Is there a train going to downtown now? When does it leave? How long will it take to get there?” Namjoon asked the teller. He was breathing hard, questions barely distinguishable.

    The woman looked him over with a roll of her eyes, unbothered despite his antsiness, “Yes there is a train, it’s scheduled to leave in 2 minutes, and it should be there in 20-”

   Namjoon all but threw a bill at the teller, “7 tickets please!”

    She huffed and slowly pulled some from her drawer, seeming to drag just to annoy you. Namjoon snatched them from her hands and you ran, following him.

    The train was seconds from pulling off from the platform when you jumped on.

   The space was crowded with the evening rush, and you all barely had space to move in the packed car. The civilians looked you all over. You could admit, it was a strange site, a group of twenty-something year olds dressed like they were all going to completely different places. You were lucky that your weapon cases looked like briefcases or else you’d all the in trouble.

    “Fuck are they looking at?” Jungkook muttered, adjusting the mask over his mouth.

   “Jin, if it makes you feel any better--” Taehyung began.

    “It won’t. Don’t talk to me,” Seokjin snapped, arms crossed. He radiated pure rage and annoyance, a dangerous cocktail even for him.   

     A woman in front of you took a step back to make room for more bodies, causing you to back away in the already limited space. Your back collided with another figure, and you turned to see Yoongi. He was squished, flat against the door of the train. You were pressed against him, butt to his crotch with no room for movement. You cleared your throat.

    “Sorry, I can’t move.”

    He grunted.

    Even through the many biting smells in the train, you picked up the familiar smell of his cologne.

    The train made a sharp turn in the tunnel, making you bump even further into your squad member.

   “Shit,” you mutter, almost losing your balance. You stepped onto his shoes on accident. He looked down at the floor to see your bare feet, your heels in your hand.

      You were good at a lot of things, but running in 5-inch heels wasn’t one of them. The last thing you needed was to twist an ankle on the way to a mission, you figured, so you ran the way-- shoe-less. Of course, not your first or desired choice, but you’d touched worse in your life--much worse. The frigid floors beneath your feet made you hyper aware of the filth that surrounded you in the train car.

    Yoongi stuck his legs out, the toes of his shoes wedging under your heel to separate you from the floor.

    “Yoongi, what-- I’m good, I’m not gonna stand on your feet.”

    “Just do it. This is my good deed for the day and I’m offering,” he said, “But if you give me foot fungus, it’s your ass.”

      You sighed, stepping onto his shoes. You grabbed the rail for support as the train continued to move.

     “God, why’re you so heavy?” he complained.

    You put even more pressure on his feet. He stifled a groan.

    The roar of the train fell to silence as it came to a halt. The doors opened, and bodies poured from the car. Your squad members gathered and hurried through the doors of the station into the downtown nightlife. The casino was across the street, a marvel of flashing lights.

      “Okay,” Namjoon said, “A few things didn’t go as planned but it’s fine. We’re fine. We just need to make some changes. Jin will you be okay?”

     “Since I don’t have any of my stuff my job will be hard...really hard...but not impossible. There has to be a security room with cameras in the place that I can work with. I just need to find it.”

     “I’ll go with you to look for it,” Jungkook said.

    “We know Hoseok was supposed to be here but we’ll have to work with what we’ve got for that role. That leaves us with...Tae,” Namjoon said.

     “I can do it,” Taehyung declared.

    “Are you sure? There was supposed to be two recruitment plants for a reason, one of us can take Hoseok’s place--”

    “They chose me for a reason too. I’ve got it. Trust me.”

      Namjoon nodded, “Okay. Everyone have their roles? Weapons? Earpieces? Alright,” he put his hand in the middle, and the others did the same, “Make it clean. Make it quick.”

     There was an echo of the phrase, and then you broke apart. You crossed the street and split into your separate groups. Your group squatted by some nearby bushes, taking the weapons you needed from the cases before sliding the big box deep into the brush.

    After walking the perimeter of the building, you found a side entrance, protected  by a single security guard. You came up behind the man, putting a chloroform napkin over his face. The man sank to the ground, and Jimin and Yoongi carried him into the shadows. Yoongi snagged the keys from his waistband and lead you all inside.

      The inside was filled with drunken chatter and the whir of games. People all over giving up wads of money for a night they were sure to regret later.

     “I don’t like the feeling of this place,” you said. Past the smiling faces and flashiness, there was an underlying unease, “2 o’clock. Two guards on the upper level.”

      The boys spared a glance up, seeing the two men in black suits standing above you all, surveying the floor below.

     “They don’t look like regular security,” Namjoon said, “They’re Mob affiliates for sure.”

    “There's more in that far left corner,” Yoongi nodded.

    “Shit they’re everywhere,” Jimin said. It seemed like every few feet there was another man wearing the same black suit, face a little too serious for the environment.

    “Jungkook, Seokjin, how are you guys looking?” Namjoon asked the earpiece.

     “Still haven't found anything yet, we just got inside,” Jungkook whispered, “Seokjin is terrified though, you should see him over here.”

     “I’m not scared, okay? Being inside is just...different,” Seokjin said.

     “Tae, what about you?” Namjoon asked.

     “I’m on my way to the hideout, I should be there in a few,” he replied in a low voice.

     Jimin put his arm around your shoulder, “You look like a snack, and I’ve got the munchies.”

     You made a face, “That was probably the ugliest thing you’ve ever said to me. And that's saying something.”

    “But I’m not lying! Hey, Yoongi, doesn’t she look like a snack?”

     Yoongi glanced at you, “She looks like leftovers.”

    “And you look like scraps.”

     “But even leftovers still get ate,” Jimin said, “He’s just jealous of what we have, love. Don’t listen to him,” he whispered.

    “I never do,” you said and elbowed Jimin in the stomach.

      You scanned the room and felt like you were being watched. You looked and caught Yoongi’s stare. He was looking you over, eyes glued to your body when he finally made it up to your face. Your eyes met, and he looked away, suddenly engrossed in a conversation with Namjoon.

    Your eyebrows knit together. The hell was that? you wondered

     A server walked by, a sway in her hips as she carried a tray of drinks.

     Jimin let out a low whistle, eyes glued to her retreating figure. He had a lightbulb moment.

    “I’ll go talk to her and get into the brothel...for information.”

   “The Academy said the brothel was for high rollers only, and you haven’t spent a dime here,” Namjoon said.

   He rolled his eyes, “Please. Watch this.”

     He followed after the server, who was now standing at the bar. He placed a hand on her back, leaning against the counter with a bright smile.

        “You’ve gotta give it to him, he’s got a lot of confidence,” Yoongi said as the three of you watched.

      “I mean this is his thing,” you said.

    Jimin said something and smirked, never breaking his gaze as he looked at her under his long lashes. The woman laughed, and even from where you stood you knew she was blushing.

    “Okay, say he does get in. How long do you think it’ll take before she takes him back there?” Namjoon asked.

    “10 minutes,” Yoongi said.

    “Give him a little credit,” you said, “I think 5.”

    As soon as the words left your mouth, she grabbed his hand and lead him away from the bar.

    He looked over his shoulder and winked.

    “He’s good,” you mused. If you had to say anything about Jimin, it was that he was great at his job.

    He walked with the server through a few back doors of the casino. The server typed a code into a padlock, grip still tight on his hand. It opened to a long hallway with many numbered doors, red lights coating the entire space with an alluring energy.

     “While I wish I could have you to myself tonight, I’m off the clock,” she pouted, looking up at him with a lust he was all too familiar with, “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

    They walked down the hall, their footsteps echoing off the walls. They stopped in front of one door labeled  ‘#4’. She tapped on the barrier, and it opened to a young woman in white lingerie. Her hair was messy, falling to her waist and adding emphasis to her curves. She eyed Jimin momentarily, a smile slowly spreading.

   “I see you brought me a good one,” she said.

    “You better thank me later,” the server said before turning to leave, giving Jimin’s hand a final squeeze and blowing a kiss.

   Jimin walked into the room. It was small, nothing else but a bed. The room was also covered in a red light, adding to the lure and temptation.

   She started to fiddle with his buttons, “Lets take some of this off, yeah?”

    “Jimin, a reminder that this is a mission and we can all hear you. Please don’t actually fuck her.” you said.

    “Please,” Seokjin echoed.

   He put his hands over hers, stopping her, “This looks really nice on you.” He said about her lacy ensemble. His hands lightly went from the tops of her arms down to her hips, “It would look good off too, I’m sure.”

    “Why don’t you find out?” she began sliding off her strap and he pulled her closer.

   “Later. I actually had something else in mind,” he said. He caught her eyes, holding them. A moment of confusion crossed her face. He quirked a brow at her, his seductive nature only enhanced by the light in the room. Just like that he saw her resolve waiver.

    “Oh...okay…” she said.

    He sat on the edge of the bed, and she followed.

    “White really suits you,” Jimin remarked, looking her over. She had been ogled by other men all night, but his gaze was different. It was loaded, more intense. She rarely talked much to the others, going straight to business, but he was different. It was refreshing. He was like a flame, dangerous yet so beautiful you couldn’t look away.

    “Thank you,” she replied, pulled into his gaze.

   “This place is really something. I thought it was just a regular casino, I didn’t know they had beautiful women like you here too. Must be my lucky day.”

    He didn’t have trouble reading her. Given her attitude, he knew she couldn’t have been in the business for too long. She had to be new. This would be easy, he thought. He would barely have to touch her.

      She laughed, running a hand through her hair. She was never nervous around clients, but around this man? She felt like she was losing control of herself, “This place is anything but regular.”

    “Really?” he asked, “Tell me more.”

    “Oh...I probably shouldn’t have said that. Nevermind.”

     “No,” he put a hand on her thigh, thumb tracing light circles, “Tell me...I want to know.”

      She made the mistake of looking at him again, and she was trapped in his eyes.

    “I mean, there’s just a lot that goes on behind the scenes that a lot of people don’t know about. But I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

    “Oh?” he brushed her hair behind her ear and leaned in closer, her heart rate steadily increasing. He placed a hand on her head, angling it so her neck was exposed to him. Her breathing grew shallow, and she was hyper aware of the hand still on her thigh. Her eyes closed, reveling in the touch of the gorgeous man. “Not even for me?”

     “I...I…” she breathed.

   “I just have a few questions, baby.” His breath tickled her throat, and his fingers creeped up her leg.

   “I just want to be touched,” she begged, “Please just touch me.”

   “How about this? I ask you a question, and for every one you answer you get to take something off for me? Deal?”

    Her eyes fluttered open, and she nodded, “Okay...what do you want to know?”

  “First...why is there a brothel at a casino?”

    She fidgeted, “We just make money for...them.”

    “The Menaces?” Jimin asked.

   She nodded, “The Casino too...it's a cover. What we make here and what’s made out there just goes back to them.”

    “Good. Take that off,” Jimin said, nodding to her garters. She slid them off her legs.

     “I heard that they’re recruiting boys tonight, do you know anything about that?”

    “Not much, only that those poor boys have it way worse than us. Its harder for them to leave. I’m not around them that much, but from what I’ve seen they beat the living shit out of the new recruits. I guess to see if they’re built for this. They just recruit young guys because they’re easier to use,” she said, words flying from her mouth.

    Yeah, this would be really easy.

    “Bra,” he demanded.

     Her fingers couldn’t undo the clasp fast enough. She took it off and threw it onto the floor, hungry.

    “I know the guys in the suits out there are all Menace guards. Is there anyone else that I should keep an eye on?”

    “Everyone that works here is Mob affiliated. The servers, bartenders, and dealers. Even the cleaning crew. “

   “Good. Panties.” 

    She lifted her hips and slipped them off into the pile by her feet.

     She was completely naked now. Jimin looked her over and smiled, leaning in again. She closed her eyes, breathing uneven as he neared the shell of her ear. He was so close, she just needed him to touch her, she had never wanted anything more.

  She felt something drop into her lap.

    “Thanks, babe.”

   She looked down to see a thick roll of cash, held together by rubber bands.

   By the time she tried to register what happened, he was already out the door.

____________________

    Past the large room of games, the rest of the first floor was oddly quiet. It was a maze of sterile white halls and unmarked doors that made the two squad members uneasy.

    Seokjin walked in front of Jungkook, tiptoeing anxiously.

    Jungkook slapped a hand on his shoulder, and the oldest yelped. Jungkook stifled a laugh.

     “I told you to stop doing that! You’re not funny!” Seokjin said through clenched teeth.

     “I couldn’t help it,” Jungkook whispered, “Having fun inside with the big kids?”

    “Fun’s not the word,” he replied, “I still can’t believe someone had the nerve to take my van. Who steals vans?! I was parked next to a Mercedes!”

   “Maybe they’re gonna sell it for parts or something.”

   “I swear if they-”

    There were footsteps approaching, and the two of them paused to hide behind a nearby wall. Three men walked past, talking into walkie-talkies.

    “We just left the security room, everything looks good,” one said.

    “Great. The recruits are filing in now. We’ll start in 5,” replied a staticky voice.

     When the hall was clear, the two walked on. The men were leaving the direction they were approaching, so the security room had to be close.

     “Here, take this,” Jungkook reached a gun over to Seokjin who eyed the weapon hesitantly, “I’m here to protect you, but you should have something too.”

    The oldest took the weapon gingerly in his hands. Sure he knew how to use it, he had been to basic training just like everyone else. But there was a reason why he was behind a computer all the time while the others handled the hands on work. It just wasn’t his thing.

    They rounded a corner to see five men standing in front of a single door.

    The men looked at them, guns drawn “The hell are you doing back here?!”

    Jungkook turned to Seokjin, “Stay behind me.”

    The youngest pulled a gun from his holster and fired, bullet landing in the middle of one men’s forehead as he slumped to the ground. The men paused in shock before spraying the hall with bullets. Jungkook ducked, shooting a gun out of another man’s hand and then hitting him straight through the heart.

     Seokjin stood open mouthed, frenzied as he tried to keep up with Jungkook who was quickly making it closer to the door. Another man ran up to Seokjin ready to shoot when Jungkook kicked the gun out of his hand and then roundhouse kicked him in the face, knocking him out cold. He shot him too, he couldn’t be too sure.

     A man came out of the room, horrified at the scene before him. He pulled out his gun, and Jungkook disarmed him before he could pull the trigger, grabbing him by the hair and slamming him against his knee with a hard crack. The last two ran up to him, and Jungkook pushed them both against the wall, one piled against the other. He placed the end of his pistol against one of their foreheads, and fired, the single bullet piercing both of their skulls and covering the wall in red.

    Jungkook turned to look at Seokjin, who was standing in the middle of the hallway, dumbfounded

   “See? Piece of cake,” Jungkook stepped over the bodies and opened the door. There was a wall covered with screens, focused on patrons, entrances, game tables and parking lots.

    Seokjin took a seat before the screens, “Alright, we found the security room,” he told the earpiece.

   “Good, do you see Taehyung?” Namjoon asked.

     There was one fuzzy screen that showed a dark parking garage, a group of young men walking in a line as they were brought in by large Mob bosses. He could see their squad member at the end of the line, head down and in character.

    “Got him.”

______________________

    The musty garage was lit with a few flickering lights, the smell shooting to the back of Taehyung’s nose as soon as he walked in. A few muscled men had given him a “pat down” earlier, which just consisted of them hitting him harder than necessary to see how he’d react, but he kept a straight face.

    He followed the line of boys into the space until they were told to stop. They stood before a group of large men, each holding some sort of weapon at their hip. They appraised the boys, each breathing heavy with a tinge of fear in their darting eyes.

     A man stepped forward, tattoos covering every inch of exposed skin. He was one of the leaders, Taehyung noted, along with the others in the room. They were all in the photos The Academy had sent earlier. His targets were all mere feet away.

    “So you wanna be a Menace, huh?” he asked, getting silence, “I SAID DO YOU WANNA BE A MENACE?”

   The boys jumped, muttering answers with eyes down.

    He walked towards a boy, “Why do you wanna be here?”

   “I-I don’t know--” he was interrupted when the man landed a punch in his gut, making him curl up and fall to his knees.

   “Wrong answer.”

    He made his way to the next boy. The man and the others began making fun of him, giving his face a few slaps as they pointed at his clothes in an ugly display of power. They went from boy to boy, pointing out flaws, slapping them around, and reveling in their weakness.

   He finally made it to Taehyung who was looking straight ahead, refusing to make eye-contact.

   “I remember you from the pat down. Not gonna lie kid that was impressive,” he remarked. He shoved Taehyung’s shoulder, but his feet stayed glued to the ground.

    The man looked back at his friends, “Shit, look at him! He might not look like it but he’s sturdy.”

   “Say kid, what are you good at?” another man asked.

    Taehyung shrugged, “Whatever you need me to be good at.”

    He laughed, “He’s got spunk too? I like him.”

     The one with the tattoos nodded, “Okay. I think we can get started with the initiation.”

   A Mob boss tossed a machete over and he plucked it from the air easily.

   “Do you know how to use this?” he asked.

   Taehyung eyed the weapon, unsure of where this was going, “Yeah.”

    “Great. Grab one of them why don’t you?” he said. One of the men yanked a boy from the line into the middle of the parking lot. He was scrawny, clothes hanging from his small frame. His expression was stoic, but Taehyung could tell he was terrified. He couldn’t be any older than 14. Someone handed him a machete as well.

    The man pushed the weapon into Taehyung’s grip, “Prove yourselves. You two will go at it, and the last one standing gets in. Simple enough.”

   Taehyung’s heart dropped, “You want me to kill him?”

   “Exactly.”

    “What? Are you crazy? No.”

    A voice rang through his earpiece.

   “Tae, hold it together. Keep character,” you said.

   “No?” The tattooed man repeated.

    “Tae, just play along for a bit,” Namjoon said.

    “He’s just a kid,” he said through his teeth.

   “You’re not going to do it? Whoaaa look at Mr.Tough Guy getting soft!”

    The man closest to the boy came and punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground.

    “Stop!” Taehyung screamed.

     “Who are you yelling at, boy?” The tattooed man said as he took a step closer to Taehyung’s face. His breath reeked of cigarettes.

    Past him, he could see the other men slap and kick the boy, who was already in a ball on the floor.

    “This is how initiation works, you gotta earn your place here. Just know that if you don’t do it, then somebody will,” he said,  “And don’t think if you refuse you can just walk outta here either, kid. If you don’t do it, then...let’s just say you’re gonna get a little more acquainted with this machete than you thought.”

     Taehyung stared daggers through the man, blood boiling. The screams of the boy echoed around the garage. The other recruits looked away, wishing they could be anywhere else.

     “I’ll give you till the count of three!” the man shouted, “One...Two….Three…”

___________________

    You had settled at the bar.

     “I haven’t seen any of the main targets here yet,” Yoongi said, “Where the hell could they be. Seokjin, you see anything?”

    “Yeah they’re all in the garage with Taehyung and the other recruits,” Seokjin replied.

    You all could hear vague conversation through Taehyung’s earpiece, but were in the dark as to what was happening.

    “Does everything look okay with him?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.

    “Yeah so far. These mob bosses are huge, though. Like, could probably destroy Jungkook in an arm wrestling match huge.”

    “How dare you?” Jungkook said. You could practically see the glare, “You can’t talk you can’t even bench 150! Even  ______’s roommate could probably snap your arm off.”

    “I never said she couldn’t. Now give me some space! There’s like 5 other chairs in here, why are you breathing down my neck?! Ugh, I can’t wait to get my van back.”

   “Namjoon you’re usually good at reading people. What do you think about Luna?” you asked, turning to your leader.

    He sighed, “Off of first impressions alone? Maybe not crazy...but she is a little odd. I see what you mean now about her being nice.”

    “Right! So nice! Too nice! She offers to do my laundry, makes me breakfast, and now washes my dishes. I forgot to put away the ones I used for dinner last night and I saw them in the dish rack this morning.”    

    “That was me,” Yoongi said.

    “You?” Yoongi wasn’t one to pick up after other people. He would just tell you off about how dirty you were until you decided to do something about it.

    He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, somebody had to clean up after you since you obviously can’t.”   

    Or so you thought.

    “I really should have pushed you out into the storm last night. I’m really regretting it now.”

    “I would have loved to see you try.”

    “You know what, I can’t wait to lay in my bed tonight without your loud ass snores keeping me up.”

    Yoongi’s looked like he had a retort on the tip of his tongue but stopped himself. His expression softened.

    He shifted in his seat, “I don’t snore.”

    “Oh that’s where you were last night. I knew I didn’t hear you come in,” Namjoon said, half-listening, half-surveying the room.

    The bartender had come back with the bill. You reached out to take it, and a large hand trapped yours, going for it at the same time. Yoongi’s eyes went from the tab to you. His hand didn’t move.

    “I’ve...got it,” you said, sliding your hand away and placing a 10 down.

    Yoongi brought his hand back and cleared his throat.

    You did the same. Why was he acting so weird? Why were you acting so weird?

    You zeroed back in on Taehyung, hearing bits of his conversation.

    “You want me to kill him?” he asked, “What? Are you crazy? No.”

    “Shit,” Yoongi said.

    “Tae, hold it together. Keep character,” you said in a low voice as more guards passed you.

    “Tae, just play along for a bit,” Namjoon said.

    “He’s just a kid,” Taehyung said.

    “They’re making him kill a kid?” Yoongi whispered to himself, disgusted.

    “We’ve got all the information we need here, we’ve gotta do something, I don’t know how much longer he can hold up by himself--” Namjoon began.

    Taehyung screamed, “Stop!”

    “This doesn’t look good, you guys. You should head over there now,” Seokjin said.

    “Tae, hold up a little longer! Try to distract them or something! We’ll be there in a bit,” Namjoon said. It came out loud, and a guard that was passing stopped in his tracks. He looked you all over, scrutinizing Namjoon who was seemingly talking to nothing.

    “Excuse me, sir,” the guard walked up to him.

    Namjoon broke out running, bolting away from the bar and leaving you both behind. The guard ran after him. Two more guards that were near eyeballed you and Yoongi as they walked towards you. You were still frozen at the bar.

    “We running?” you whispered.

   “Yup,” Yoongi said.

     You both darted away, hearing the footfalls of the men on your trails. You weaved through the slot machines and opened a side door. It lead to another random hallway. Yoongi pulled open a broom closet, and you both stuffed yourselves inside. You could hear the men run past the door, screaming at the other about which way you both had gone.

     Their footsteps retreated, and you became aware of how little space you truly had in the tight closet. You stood against one wall and Yoongi faced you with his back against the opposite side. His arms were placed at either side of your head to keep his balance in the narrow space, caging you in. The closet was dark, the only illumination coming from the crack under the door, but you could still see a sliver of his face.

      You were both breathing hard, trying to quiet yourselves as you heard more people walk past. His chest rose and fell with every labored pant. He looked down, meeting your stare. There was something there that you had never seen before. An interest. A fascination. Dare you say desire?

     It seemed to happen in slow motion. He ducked down, craning his head closer and closer to yours until your faces were just inches apart. You didn’t understand. All you had to do was put your hand up and push him back, but you didn’t.

     His eyes searched yours for a moment as he closed the distance between your lips.

    A voice suddenly snapped you back.

    “Guys, Tae needs backup! You better get in there now!” Seokjin screamed.

    You separated, and Yoongi jolted back to the opposite end of the closet. You opened the door, avoiding his eyes as you both hurried to the garage.

Previous Next

[neverland93]

Peter Pan Imagine Request/Imagination

“Can you write and Imagine where a girl has imaginary friend named Peter Pan? Peter has been with the girl since she was young. Then when she's older he asks if she wants to come to Neverland with him, and she says yes because she trusts him and he is her only friend. When. She gets to Neverland she realizes Peter isn't there because he is dead. But her presence on Neverland brings him back.”

Warnings : Cussing, sexual, sexual harassment, death, mean parents.

“oh the cleverness of you.” you would giggle , your best friend in the world just did something mischievous , and of course got away with it.

You and him did everything together, you ran, skipped, jumped, got scared, even danced together.

You would spend every waking hour together, after all he was your best friend.

You loved him and he loved you, but your parents, well they had enough of your “imaginary friend”

“Why do you have two bowls of cereal Y/n?” your mom asked

“For Peter.” you simply stated.

Your mother gave you a concerned look, then looked at your father for guidanced 

“Look hunny, your friend doesn’t need to eat.” he said

“Well why not?” you asked

“Because umm, well he is imaginary, and imaginary people don’t get to eat.” he said

“What ? Why?” you asked 

“Because they don’t Y/n stop asking so many questions.” your mom said, trying to support your father

“But-”

“I SAID ENOUGH” your mom yelled at you, which scared you and made you drop yours and Peter’s cereal.

“Ugh! Now we will be late for work, get yourself cleaned up and leave Peter here!” she yelled at you

Most days were like that, but you stood by Peter, and no matter how much you got yelled at, no matter how much you got grounded, no matter how much you got your phone, tv, and laptop get taken away, you stood by him, he was your best friend, and you weren't going to let him go.

But as much as you stood by him, you were getting tired of it, and he knew it.

“What’s wrong love?” he asked as you lay on your bed staring at the ceiling.

“Peter it’s Friday night, everyone is at that awesome party, and we’re stuck here.” you said sitting up and facing him

“Well, why don’t we go?” he asked

“Because I’m grounded, AGAIN!”you stated , folding your arms.

“Ah, I see, well, let’s sneak out.” he said

“Yeah so I can get grounded again.”you rolled your eyes

“No love you won’t get grounded , I promise.” he said.

“Yeah, YOU won't .” you say with an attitude 

“Hey, this is the party of the year, let’s go.” he said, winking at you

You smile at him, “Okay.” you couldn't resist him, he was just too damn adorable 

You both get ready for the party

Once you arrive, you get welcomed by a couple of your friends from school, Peter just watches from a far and smiles. You give a smile back

After chatting with your friends you spot a cute boy that you’ve been crushing on for a while, and he was coming your way!

“Hey.” he said with a drink in his hand

Peter’s eyebrows knitted together. Obviously upset.

“Hi!” you said a little bit more energetic than you should've 

“Didn’t think I would see you here.” he said

“Oh yeah I’m not really a party go-er , but I mean I’m trying.” you said 

“Thats adorable.” he said 

You just blushed and looked down.

“Awe you’re blushing, thats hella cute.” he said brushing his fingers against your cheeks.

Peter’s eyes became neon green, he was upset, but he couldn't explain why. You were his friend, just his friend, right? He shook his head, trying to focus on something else, but he couldn't.

You guys caved in and now touching each others arms and what not, you were so shocked, he was actually into you.

“So uh, you wanna go upstairs?” he asked

Peter’s head popped up quickly “The hell?” 

“Excuse me?” you asked shocked

“Well, I mean you know.” he said bringing you closer to him

“Wait I’m not that kind of girl.” you said

“Oh come on, it will be fun!” he said grabbing your ass, 

Peter marched straight to you 

“I said no!” you splashed your drink on him.

“The hell, you stupid bitch!” he said yelling at you

“What a freak” some girl said

Others just laughed

Then everyone started chanting “freak, freak, freak, freak!”

Tears ran down your eyes, you just ran out of the house, the party ended as soon as it started for you.

You ran and didn’t care if Peter was behind you.

“Y/n!” he yelled out 

“Go away!” you yelled back

You guys passed a park , it was dark, cold, and windy.

“Y/n stop!” Peter yelled at you

“Dont tell me what to do Peter!” you yelled back

“I”m your best friend I just want to be there for you!” he yelled

“You ruin everything!” you yelled at him

“What?” he asked quietly 

“Everyone thinks I’m a freak, its because of you.” you sniffled and wiped your tears. “Peter, you’re not real, you know you’re not, but still, you incest on thinking that you are.” you cried

He walked to you, picking up your chin with his finger. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked

“I just need space.” you said, you walked away, crying , Peter slowly walked behind to make sure you got home safe, once he knew you did he went away, and slept in tree for that night

You wake up to no Peter for 16 years , you always woke up to him, but not today, it felt weird.

You didn't feel like getting up, so you didn’t you just stayed in bed all day

It was 5 in the afternoon and you heard a tap on the window

You saw him, his face was filled with concerns , you spend the window.

“Yes?” you asked him

“I need to ask you something.” he asked

“Well ask.” you said with an attitude 

Come with me.” he said

“What?” you asked

“To Neverland.” he said

“To who?!” you asked confused

“To Neverland.” he said, he was just staring deep into your eyes, wondering what you would say

“Where is that?” you asked

“It’s a place, that you will never, ever, have to worry about grown up things again.” he said

“Peter, I don't know.” you said 

He came behind you and wrapped his arms around you

“Y/n listen, I know you're tired, come with me, Neverland is waiting.” he whispers in your ear.

You turn around, facing him “Never again?” you asked

“Never again.” he smiled

“Fine, take me.” you said with a smile

********

You arrive on Neverland, but Peter isn't there.

“What the hell?” you said, did Peter lie? Did he leave you on this island to die?

Well you weren't going to stay and find out.

You decided to explore.

Looking at the trees they never end, this place was remarkable, the flowers had the most sweetest smells to them, the atmosphere was more of a thrill, you could hear drums, and music, and boys?

You decided to go closer.

You see around 10-15 boys.

“That’s a looooot of boys. you said

You decided to sep back but you tripped over a stick and screamed 

The boys ran over and saw you

“A girl?” a older boy with a scar said

“Why a girl?” he said

“I mean, she is hot.” an other said 

“Shut up.” an other said hitting him in the stomach.

“Ouch!” he yelled

“Look where am I?” you asked

“You’re on Neverland.” a little boy said 

“Do-do you know where Peter , Peter Pan is?” you asked

Suddenly, everyone became sad, some even took off their hats, others looked down

“What?” you asked, you were totally confused 

“Peter, Peter died, a while ago.” the guy with the scar said

“What?” you asked, but now that you think about it, it made sense.

Peter was always imaginary, only you could see him, but what was weird what that you could touch him, and he could touch you.

“How long?” you asked

“Forever it seems like, time stops in Neverland.” the guy said

“Peter was my friend, I lived, well he lived with me, for 16 years, we did everything together.” you said

“I’m sorry.” the guy said

“No , I’m sorry.” you said

“Well , I’m Felix, and these are the lost boys, I’m head in charge now, but you are more than welcome to stay, even for a little bit, I can show you Peter’s favorite spots.” he said

“I’m Y/n and yeah that sounds good, I shall stay, just for dinner though.” you said, even though you felt safe with the boys, knowing that Peter wasn't there unsettled you deep down.

Watching the boys interact with each other made you happy, in a way they all reminded you of Peter, its they all grabbed a little of his personality, it was cute, they must’ve really looked up to him.

The boys were amazing and talented, they knew how to fight, make food, they played the drums super well, they defended themselves, Peter taught them well.

That night the boys made a special feast for you, there was so much food.

“I don’t think I ever seen that much food in my life.” you said

“Well eat up!” one of the boy said, 

You guys ate and ate tip you couldn't anymore, with your stomachs full you decided that story telling was the best thing, because nobody wanted to move

You told stories all the time to Peter, and he loved it, so you thought why not the lost boys?

As the boys start to fall asleep, and the youngest lost boy fell asleep in your arms, you realize, you couldn't just leave , not know, not ever, these boys needed you, weather they knew it or not, they did.

You had to stay, Peter would've wanted it that way.

********

The next day you made the boys breakfast

“This is awesome!” a younger lost boy said waking up, as he woke up the rest of the boys, they all smiled and thanked you, you made them start a line and one by one take their oatmeal.

They all made a line and got their breakfast, and their orange juice, it was exciting, they learned really fast, for these boys didn’t know the meaning of manners

You lived on Neverland for a couple of months now, the boys do their own laundry, they clean their own tents, and they things like excuse me and thank you, all of this because of you, who would've thought a girl would change so much.

Well After a couple of summers go by, and you're officially the “queen” of Neverland, someone arrives on Neverland

You were all sitting by the campfire, it was the afternoon and you guys were roasting marshmellows, when all of a sudden you heard a voice, I familiar voice.

“Hey you guys gonna save me some or what?” he said

You turned around you dropped your stick in disbelief .”P-Peter?” you asked

“Yeah, thats me.” he said ever so cocky

“But how?” Felix asked

“Y/n actually, her presence , it brought me back., I wouldn't be here without you love.” he said walking over to you, 

You get up and now are face to face with him

“I-I can't believe it.” you said , tears running down your face, “You’re real?” you asked

“I am, only in Neverland, if you leave, I won't be real anymore.” he said

“Well , then , I shall stay.” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He smiled and grabbed your chin, pulling you in closer to him, and kissing your lips ever so softly.

His lips tasted like mint, his lips felt like velvet, his hands felt like clouds wrapped around your waist, wanting more, you pulled his neck in closer, tongue wrapped around each other fighting for domain ,he won, you guys pulled away and smiled at one an other

“Do you understand how long I've been wanting to do that?” he smiled

You smiled and just laughed.

You both lived on Neverland, happy as can be.

[itach-i]

‘You turned up at my doorstep soaking wet and I didn’t know what to do’

Title: Doorstep (Modern AU) Pairing: Manorian

Dorian looked outside at the pouring rain that seemingly came out of nowhere. It was thundering and lightning broke through the darkness of the night sky while the young man enjoyed a nice cup of hot chocolate in his knit sweater. Safe and warm in his home, Dorian felt a little bad for anyone who had gotten trapped in this weather and soon he was in front of the television watching the evening news while the rain rattled on.

His doorbell ringing made his eyebrows rise as he wondered who was at the door. His house was out in the country and his nearest neighbor was a few miles down the road. Taking his gun with him and making sure it was loaded, he went to the door.

“Who is it?”

“Hey, uh, sorry, you don’t know me.”

It was a woman, but from her position near the door, he couldn’t really see her. “What do you want?”

He watched as she crossed and uncrossed her arms before taking steps back and wow…

“I don’t really have a car,” she said quietly and Dorian could quickly figure out what happened. She must have been walking on the trail toward the city when the storm began.

Risking it, Dorian slowly opened the door to find what must have been the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She was in a thin blue sweater and black pants. Her long white hair was soaked through and considering how she was shaking, she was freezing.

Her eyes, a burnt shade of amber so deep it was gold, dropped to the gun in his hand and he shrugged. “This place is pretty remote, nothing personal.”

She nodded, but he wasn’t sure just how much was conscious or because of how cold she was. He quickly glanced around her and when he was sure this girl was alone he invited her in.

She thanked him quietly, almost shyly, as she observed the inside of his home. Dorian watched her carefully. “Not that it is my problem, but you should not be out at this time of night without a car.” She didn’t answer and he was suddenly struck with how…pathetic she looked. Soaking wet and cold in a stranger’s house. “What are you doing without a car at this time of night?”

Those gold eyes turned to him and he tried really hard not to get lost in them. “I was taking a walk,” she said, and although he looked at her unconvincingly, he knew she would get sick in those clothes. Questions could hold out for later.

“You can use my bathroom,” he told her, “I have a robe in there you can wear while your clothes get washed.” She thought about it before nodding and he led her to the bathroom. As she closed the door, Dorian heard the weatherman say that the rain would force some roadblocks. It looks like this girl was stuck there with him until further notice.

About twenty minutes later, she came back in and Dorian had to hold himself back from thinking that she was all naked under that robe. She was so pretty it was almost unnatural. “What’s your name?” She asked suddenly and he figured he liked the intonation of her voice.

“Dorian. You can sit there if you like.” She followed through while he sat up and took some hot cocoa and poured it in another cup. “Hot chocolate, it helps.” As she went to take it he made note of a bruise on her wrist. “What’s your name?”

She looked up like she didn’t want to tell him which caused him to raise an eyebrow. The girl crossed her arms. “Manon.”

It was very possible that she was lying, but it’s not like it mattered. “That sounds foreign.” Dorian thought about it. “French?”

She gave a little shadow of a smile and he felt himself stupidly enchanted. “Yeah.”

“Unique.”

“Stupid.”

He huffed in amusement and quiet took over for the next ten minutes, both of them watching the newscaster implore people to stay in their homes. Curious, Dorian placed his cup down. “So, where do you live? In the city?”

Manon looked up at him. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“I move around a lot,” she admitted before taking one last sip and placing the cup down.

“You homeless or something?” She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t disagree. “It’s cool, you know, if you are. It’s hard to make a living in this country.”

She let out a short breath as she looked back to the TV. “This is a nice house, you live alone?”

“Yeah, I do stuff on the internet.”

“Stuff’?” When he didn’t answer, she frowned a bit. “Are you into like…porn?”

“No, God no.” He pushed back at his hair nervously. “You heard of YouTube?”

“You mean the video thing?”

“Yeah.”

“You can make money off of that?”

“Yep.”

She leaned back as she crossed her arms. “Damn.”

“You work somewhere?” Her clothes were nice and she seemed like she ate regularly even though he spotted another healing bruise close to her left collarbone.

“I’ve tried a few things.”

“Like what?”

“If you’re thinking ‘modeling,’ you’re wrong.”

Dorian actually chuckled. “That obvious, huh?”

“You’d be surprised at the number of weirdos on the street that stop me daily to be part of their ‘modeling program’ or some other shit-stake to drag me into an alley and take my clothes off.”

“God,” Dorian muttered, “did you get hurt?”

A huff. “I look fragile, but I can defend myself.” Before he could say anything she leaned forward. “So your videos, what do you exactly record yourself doing?”

Grateful for the change of topic, Dorian looked at her. “I play videogames and I record myself making commentary on them.”

“And you got followers or what is it, subscriptors?”

“Subscribers,” he corrected. “Yeah, a few million or so.”

“A few-” she scoffed. “Show me a video, I want to see what you do.”

For some reason, Dorian got really nervous. He had millions of watchers looking at his stupid videos on the daily and one girl made him self-conscious of every single one. “Uh, okay. Wait here.” He stood up and went for his laptop, turning it on as he went down the stairs. Within a few minutes, he handed the laptop to her and showed her his YouTube channel.

“Princeling?” She asked.

“Online nickname.”

“Ah.”

It was a little odd to meet someone who didn’t seem to be connected to the internet as everyone else Dorian knew, though considering she was homeless, it wasn’t like she could afford the leisure time. He watched her pick one of his more recent horror compilations and left her to it as he went back to his seat. He observed her then, hearing himself yelling out or making bad jokes. Her face was impassive, but once or twice she gave a small smile.

When it ended, she faced him. “I have to admit, it’s pretty funny.”

“Thanks, I work harder on it than you might think.”

She nodded, “so when’s your next video recording or whatever.”

“Later tonight maybe, depends on if the power stays on.”

“Could I watch?”

He looked at her a little suspiciously. “Sure, but you can’t be in the video.”

“I don’t play videogames,” she countered, “though even if I did I don’t think I’d want to be part of your video.”

“Oh, you don’t want to be a part of it even if you did want to.” She seemed genuinely confused. “People would hunt you down.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Not liking the awkward, he stood up. “If you’re interested in getting a job, I can hook you up with an agency.” Manon actually laughed and the sound was so beautiful he was momentarily stunned.

“You mean like a modeling agency?”

“A legit one, I’ll take you to it myself.”

“Hmm,” she pretended to think about it, “and how do I know you are legit.”

“Hypothetically,” he began and she got comfortable, narrowing her eyes and looking like she belonged on a famous magazine cover. His distraction lasted only a few seconds. “If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done so already.”

“Hypothetically,” she repeated, sneaking in a teasing tone.

He smiled. “I let you into my house, I showed you my channel. If you need money, this is a good way to start.”

“No.”

Dorian clicked his tongue. “What? You already have a job?”

“Listen,” Manon countered, “I respect how people make their money, models included, but I don’t like the idea of pretending to be something I’m not.” He felt like she was leaving something out, like there was a time where she had done exactly that and knew the consequences it brought.

“I can respect that.” The blue-eyed man closed the laptop and drummed his fingers on the top. “How about we make a deal?”

“A deal,” she repeated.

He licked his lips, not sure why he wanted to convince her about this. He didn’t want her to suffer, didn’t want her to need a stranger to help her in times like this. “I’ll take you to my friend’s agency and you can stay here in the meantime, free of charge.”

Manon blinked and he could definitely see how strangers would approach her on the daily. “That’s not fair, I don’t have any money.”

Dorian pretended like he was shocked. “I guess you’re going to have my deal.”

“Where is ‘your friend’s’ agency?”

“Towards the north of the city, on Terrassen Street.”

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“Aelin, but I have friends all along that street.”

“So you want me to get a job there?”

Dorian shook his head. “I just want you to check it out. They give tours of the place and although there are auditions I think they’ll take you in.”

Manon nodded, her light hair dropping over one shoulder. “I don’t have to audition if I don’t want to, right?”

“Nope, you can choose to do whatever you want after the tour.”

“And I can stay here for how long?”

“We can discuss that after we check out the agency, but you can at least stay until this storm clears out.”

He watched her gold eyes take in the room, the expensive couches and high ceilings. “Alright,” Manon said after a bit, “deal.”  

He nodded. “Deal.”

…

The storm cleared out within two days and Dorian followed Manon down a sleazy alley between two rundown buildings that held arguments and clotheslines. “This is where you live?” He asked her as she moved some boxes out of the way to reveal a break in the wall.

“Temporarily,” she explained as she ducked inside.

“I’m wondering if I’m the one who should be worried about being hurt here.”

Manon gave him a look before they emerged in a sealed off room, tiny, with no windows. There was an old mattress on a corner, a car seat that was next to a box and a couple of magazines scattered about the floor. There was a used black backpack on the mattress, which Manon picked up. “Alright, let’s go.”

“That’s it?” He asked in shock, “that’s all you own?”

She seemed unbothered at the question. “Well, when you are homeless there’s not much to own.”

“Sorry, that was out of line.” It was just hard to imagine someone living like this. Dorian saw homeless all the time, just not ones that looked like her.

“It’s fine, now where are we going?”

He led her back outside toward where the taxi was waiting for them. “It’s a place about ten minutes from here, a talent agency called Elentiya Entertainemt. They’re pretty well-known although the business is still growing.”

“Look,” she started, “I know I’m…pretty,” she said the word like she didn’t like it, “but it doesn’t mean I’m talented. There are a million pretty faces around.”

“No, but you’re gorgeous.” He caught himself and went beat red with embarrassment. “Uh, I didn’t-I mean-”

She waved it off. “It’s fine, thanks.”

They went quiet for the rest of the trip and when they finally arrived, Dorian watched Manon observe the large building skeptically. They didn’t say anything as they walked forward and as they went past the guard at the front, Manon finally spoke up. “Well, if this is fake then I deserve to be kidnapped.” When Dorian looked at her like he didn’t understand, she clarified. “I’m joking.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re very carefree about that,” he commented as they arrived at the waiting room.

She shrugged and he noticed the small hole her gray jacket had on the back of her shoulder. It seemed she’d tried to stitch it recently too since it was halfway closed with a white thread that didn’t match the gray. He wondered how long she’d been homeless and if she struggled way more than she let on.

“Dorian? Is that you?”

The mentioned one smiled as a familiar woman walked toward them in comfortable but fashionable clothes and styled hair. She was the head of the modeling department and was also a model herself. “Hey Lysandra, thanks for taking my call and making room like this.”

She grinned back like she wanted him to notice how she got her teeth whitened just the week before even when he knew she was in a happy relationship with Aelin’s cousin. “Babe, for you I would open up my whole week. Now, what do we have here?”

They both turned to Manon who stared back at them a little awkwardly. “This is my friend, Manon, I was wondering if you could give her an audition.”

Lysandra turned skeptical then, but Dorian could tell she wasn’t being mean or taking a personal approach at the matter. “Hmm, how old are you?”

“Twenty-three.” Dorian blinked as she was actually older than him.

“Have you ever done any type of modeling work before?”

“No.”

Lysandra didn’t react. “Have you done any work in the entertainment business at all? And I even mean things like janitor or assistant.”

Manon seemed to hesitate, thinking it over. “…I went to a special school for a few years,” she admitted, “but I dropped out.”

“What’s the name of the school?”

The young woman looked over Dorian like she didn’t want to tell him, still she turned back to Lysandra. “Ironteeth Prep.”

Both of their eyes widened and Dorian remembered how a friend of a friend went to that school, although it was described more like a military academy than anything else. Lysandra got over her shock carefully. “Were you in it for modeling?”

“Martial arts and dance.” Dorian didn’t even know they gave martial arts at the school, but it made sense.

The dark-haired beauty weighed her options. “I’ll let you audition, but before that, come with me.”

As Lysandra began walking Manon turned to Dorian who shrugged a little. “You want me to go or…?”

She frowned a bit as she considered it. “I guess you can stay if it’s allowed.”

Lysandra heard everything and seemed to understand that Manon wasn’t completely comfortable around the place. “You can come watch and see if you want to audition yourself. Maybe you’ll finally try it out.” Dorian ignored her, not because he didn’t think he would get in, but due to the fact that he truly was uninterested in modeling work. He much preferred being in front of a camera while being himself, not posing for some brand he hadn’t heard until the day of the shoot.

For the next hour, he and Manon were shown around the building and introduced to a few people, mainly designers, photographers and one or two graphic designers. She explained the history of the Elentiya Entertainment brand and showed the duo a few upcoming shoots and photo albums within their brand. By the end of the tour, Lysandra smiled. “I would like you to meet one more person before you go today. He and I will be judging your audition tomorrow.”

For some reason, Dorian became nervous at the prospect. What if Manon, with all the beauty she had to offer, just wasn’t good enough? She lacked experience and Lysandra had made mention that even though dancing required artistic talent it didn’t mean Manon would be particularly good at modeling. The trio entered a room filled with different types of clothes on mannequins and a handful of makeup stations. A handsome man with blonde hair spotted them and with a wave came up to them.

“Hey, Ly. New prospects?” He asked, as he observed Manon closely. Dorian was surprised to see his stare as being merely professional and blinked a few times when he looked over him as well.

“I’m not auditioning,” Dorian clarified.

“She is. Fenrys this is Manon and Dorian, guys this is Fenrys. Our head of makeup.”

Fenrys smiled charmingly, going so far as to bow a little. “Nice to meet you both. Manon was it? Hmm.” He gave her a little once over before going in a circle around her. “Very nice face, what’s your routine?”

The white haired woman raised an eyebrow. “My routine?”

“Yes, what are you wearing to look like you do right now? I will admit it looks crazy natural.”

Not understanding, Dorian watched Manon appearing the same way. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I don’t understand.”

Lysandra cut in with a hidden smirk. “He’s asking what kind of makeup you’re wearing and how you do your makeup routine.”

Manon went quiet for a bit, going between Lysandra and Fenrys. “I…I don’t wear makeup.”

The shocked expressions made Dorian frown. Wasn’t it obvious she didn’t wear makeup? He thought while observing her face. He could tell the moment he met her. Fenrys spoke first. “Well then…” he trailed off as he kept his eyes on her face. “You said her audition was tomorrow?”

“Yep,” Lysandra replied before shooting a look at Dorian that had all kinds of ‘where did you get this girl from?’ written over it.

He decided to speak up. “I hope you don’t mind if I tag along tomorrow too, then?” He asked, knowing Manon would appreciate his words even though they were still partly strangers.

Lysandra understood while Fenrys gave Manon another walk-around. “She would be good for Prada, has that look to her.”

“We’ll talk all that after the audition, Fen,” Lysandra warned, but it was clear she was imagining it too. “We’ll have it in the morning tomorrow if that’s alright with you both?”

Dorian glanced at Manon who crossed her arms. He managed to hide his smile, she wasn’t saying ‘no.’ “That will be perfect. What time exactly?” When they were told his grin finally made its way out. “Great, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Great! Can’t wait!” Lysandra replied.

Don’t worry, there will be a 2nd part. Also, this is a surprise fic for @propshophannah and @rufousnmacska

Thanks for reading!

My other Manorian fics