#and even though hes (to her) this crazy two faced jackass she sticks around and openly cares for him and seeks him out despite how surly he

[horrorknife]

it feels often like people forget that marla is quite literally at the center of everything that happens in fight club. like i know this is probably mostly misogyny but shes so important to the narrative and shes especially important to both tyler and the narrator's characters. like if you don't think about her then you're missing such a big chunk of the story she's not just there to be the narrator's manic pixie dream girl. she's like. Pivotal To The Plot. lmfao

[darkblueboxs]

The Words that Cut

AKA "nine times Andrew was called pretty and hated it + one time he didnt"

Read here or on AO3

Summary:            

“I used to think it would have been easier,” Andrew says. The words cost him more than Neil can know, but Bee says it’s important to get better at these things. If he wants to keep Neil, anyway. “If I looked different.”

There's a lot he leaves out of that sentence.

“Just look at him! Isn’t he precious?!” The stranger’s hand comes out of nowhere, pinching Andrew’s cheek and tugging. Be on your best behaviour, his case worker had warned him. And maybe this time it’ll stick. Andrew isn’t sure he wants it to. He keeps his gaze fixed on his scuffed sneakers, shoelaces trailing because he still hasn’t gotten the hang of the knots. Until the hand pinching his face forces him to look up.

“And gosh, look at those eyes!” The latest in Andrew’s never-ending line of foster parents doesn’t look so different from the rest. Her face is too close, and Andrew can smell her breath when she speaks, sharply tinged with tobacco. He wrinkles his nose, and she frowns. “Now, now, none of that. We don’t want to spoil that pretty little face, do we?” And she punctuates the question with another hard pinch to his cheek. Andrew bares his teeth, and she smiles. “Much better. Don’t you look beautiful!”

Then Andrew sinks his teeth into her hand, and she starts to scream instead.

*

…and this is Andrew! He’s going to be staying with us for a while. You’ll make sure your new foster brother feels very welcome, won’t you? Now both of you stand together, I want to take a photograph of my two handsome boys…

*

Andrew’s hook-up tucks himself back into his grey prison-standard joggers, panting heavily.

“Fuck,” he says, which just about sums it up.

Andrew wipes his hand off, keeping his eyes fixed on the grey expanse of wall behind the other boy’s head.

“That was hot,” he continues, as though Andrew cares. He got what he wanted from the encounter: now all he wants to be is alone.

“Go away.”

He flicks a significant look downwards, smirking. “C’mon, you really want me to leave you like this?”

Andrew grabs him by the neck and shoves him back against the wall, forcing his gaze away from his body. “I said go away.”

Instead of showing any sign of fear, his pupils dilate as he leans into the pressure of Andrew’s hand around his neck. “Fuck, you’re hot.” He reaches for Andrew, and Andrew’s mind goes black with rage.

He does not lay a hand on Andrew again.

*

“Look. Over there, by the lockers. No, no, don’t make it obvious!”

“No way! He looks just like Aaron. But also kind of cuter?”

“Are you crazy? They have the same face!”

“Yeah, but he’s got like, a bad-boy mystique. You heard he just got out of prison, right? Think he has a girlfriend yet?”

“Ew, Tracy.”

“Ask him for me. Please? I’ll do your math homework for the rest of the week.”

A girl with curly brown hair and freckles appears at Andrew’s shoulder as he slams his locker shut.

“My friend thinks you’re cute.”

Andrew doesn’t even bother with a perfunctory glance in the girl’s direction. “Your friend can fuck off.”

She looks affronted for all of a second before her lips curl downwards. “Whatever, jackass.”

Andrew isn’t quite out of earshot by the time she returns to her friend.

“Forget about it, Tracy. His brother is hotter anyway.”

Andrew’s hands clench into fists of their own accord. When they try to approach Aaron after practice, Andrew makes it clear what happens to anyone who shows interest in his brother.

*

Andrew hears his cousin’s screams before he even rounds the corner to see him splayed on the cobblestones, his nightclub attire torn and muddied with boot prints. Men circle him like vultures, teeth bared, eyes shining with mad hunger. Andrew has seen that look before too many times. Nicky’s attackers smirk as Andrew approaches, but the slouch of their shoulders says they don’t see him as a threat. It’s the last mistake they’ll ever make.

“Andrew, run,” Nicky says, words thickened by puffy, bleeding lips. His face has been beaten so badly it’s not even clear where the blood is coming from.

One of the men laughs. “Who is this, your boyfriend? Come on, baby, we can make you look just as pretty as your bitch over there.”

Andrew steps forward, knife in hand.

*

“Huh,” says Nicky on Andrew’s first night home with meds swirling through his system. “You actually have a really cute smile, Andrew.”

Grinning, Andrew puts his fist through a wall, and nothing more is said on the matter.

*

“The Foxes’ deadliest investment.” The journalist thrusts a microphone so close to Andrew’s face he practically inhales it. “And certainly one of their cutest! Andrew Minyard, do you have anything to say to your growing legion of fans? I’m sure all the girls want a piece of you, and I can’t say I blame them!”

Andrew bares his teeth. False laughter bubbles up within him, and he clenches his jaw to keep it in his throat. “How do my fans feel about disembowelment?”

The journalist is less eager to take his picture after that.

*

“C’mon, Renee, you can tell us. Are you really just fighting down there? Or are you getting another kind of action, if you catch my drift?”

“Allison…”

“Don’t answer her, Renee, she’s just trying to win her bet.”

“Can’t I just be interested? I mean, can you imagine it? I mean, sure, Minyard’s pretty in his own psychotic way, but the height. It’s gotta be an issue, right? Unless you’re really into small-”

“ALLISON!”

Andrew knocks at the door, saving his ears from any more of their gossiping. “Renee.”

“Coming!” Renee picks up her water bottle, relief washing her features while Dan and Allison choke on their laughter behind her.

*

Hello, handsome, says an impossible voice at his ear. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Oh, Luther, Andrew thinks as the bottle collides with the side of his head. I’m going to kill you.

*

He catches Neil poking at his scars in the bathroom mirror, digging his fingers into the darkened patches hard enough to scratch half-moons into the healing skin. His eyes meet Andrew’s in the reflection. All Andrew has to do is raise an eyebrow, and it’s as though Neil hears the question before he even has to formulate it.

“They’re distinctive,” he says by way of an answer.

“So?”

“Not exactly anonymous,” Neil huffs.

Andrew steps forward until he is lined up along Neil’s back, glaring at his reflection over his shoulder. “You have no need for anonymity.”

“I know,” Neil says, still glaring at his reflection. “And I’m glad I don’t look like my father anymore, but…”

“Vanity doesn’t suit you, Josten.”

Neil sighs. “Easy for you to say.”

Andrew’s hands, which have come to rest on Neil’s waist, stop. He wills them not to clench. “What does that mean?”

The tips of Neil’s ears redden. “You know.”

“I don’t.”

“I mean, it’s not like you have anything to worry about. Not when you’re so-”

“No.” There’s no inflection in his tone, but Neil hears the urgency anyway.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Andrew lets his hands fall back to his sides, flexing the tremors from them.

“I used to think it would have been easier,” Andrew says. The words cost him more than Neil can know, but Bee says it’s important to get better at these things. If he wants to keep Neil, anyway. “If I looked different.”

There’s a lot he leaves out of that sentence. The burning after-effect of hands pinching his cheeks, pretty boy, pretty boy, pretty boy, over and over like a mantra that dug itself into his chest and festered there. The days where even the prickle of someone’s eyes on him made him want to vomit. The nights he considered turning the blades on his face instead of his arms in the hope of making himself too ugly to stomach.

He doesn’t say it, but the subtle shift in Neil’s gaze says that he doesn’t have to.

“Probably not,” Neil says. It isn’t offered as a consolation – Neil knows better where Andrew is concerned – but from understanding. “It’s never because of us. It’s because of them.”

Andrew leans into Neil once more, letting his chin come to rest on his shoulder. Their eyes meet in the reflection. “Probably not,” Andrew echoes, and Neil’s lips twitch. Something that has been tied up in Andrew’s chest for far too long pulls and untangles. “Distinctive isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

Neil’s lips twitch again, the movement blossoming into a lobsided half-smile that does terrible things to Andrew’s self-control. “Are you calling me pretty?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

“Oh.” Neil leans his head to the side so that it bumps against Andrew’s. “Well. You too.”

And, because it’s here and now and most importantly Neil, this time the words don’t cut. Andrew swallows them with a curt nod and leans into the kiss that follows, and everything that comes after. *

[daydreamingintheimpalax]

Looking out

Prompt: “Hey,” A says, sliding over on the bar stools to get B’s attention. “Don’t drink that. I think your date’s trying to drug you.”

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of possible drugging.

Dean X Reader

Dean didn't want to be here. He hated frat parties, he really did, piling a bunch of drunken college kids into the nearest college bar during rush season was the worst. He looked around, his whiskey glass half full in his hand. He preferred small groups, random nights with his buddies shooting pool or playing cards. 

He hated college bars. His frat was rushing, and so, he was stuck, stuck being here after having to be dragged by his best friend Nicky. The only thing that was keeping him here was her, Y/N.

She was sat a few tables down, with a guy he recognized from his house’s rival frat. Nicky had slept with his girlfriend last year and the guy along with his frat had hated them ever since. 

Todd slowly wrapped and arm around y/n, pulling her closer, she seemed to hesitate but didn't make a move to do anything about it. He knew she was single, and she was stunning, Dean would be lying if he said she didn't have him and every other guy on campus running crazy for her, but she wasn't easy, she didn't sleep around and she barely ever got white girl wasted unlike most of the girls in her fraternity. He admired her for it, it made her more attractive.

He'd spoken to her before, he was even paired up on a project with her in one class, he considered them friends, but he had a bit of a flirty reputation and he didn't want her thinking he saw her as another conquest so he kept his distance. 

He watched as they talked, he leaned in close whispering in her ear and Dean smirked at the grossed out look on her face that Todd didn't notice. Todd was a creep, he was gross and if the stories he heard had any truth, he feared a little for y/n. 

The bartender sat two new drinks in front of them and y/n mumbled something to him, Todd gave her a nod before both boys watched her walk to the ladies room. 

Dean looked back at Todd, one of his buddies coming up and patting him on the back, Todd have him a wink before subtlety grabbing something out of the other guys hand. Dean frowned, wondering if they were passing around drugs. He really hated frat parties. 

Before he knew what happened, Todd slipped y/n’s drink towards him, Dean couldn't tell what he was doing, he wasn't angled well enough to see, but he did notice him stir her drink before tossing away the stir stick. When he put her drink back, Dean didn't fail to notice it fizzle just a tad before it stopped.

You stared into the bathroom mirror, touching up your eyeliner, you really were dreading going back out there, the girls had gone off with their own eyes set on their targets and left you with Todd, you didn't think he was a horrible person, but he isn't your type, sitting with him all night had been a bore, all he talked about was the pranks they played on new pledges and drinking games they'd made up, plus you'd heard stories about him and weren't too keen on being another one night stand.

You sighed, you had noticed Dean earlier, he'd looked like he was as bored being here as you were, you half ass considered jumping into his Impala and having him take you out of here, at least you knew with Dean you'd be in for some fun, no matter what it was, plus you were friends, you knew he'd get you out of here if you really wanted him to.

You slowly made your way back to the bar, half hoping Todd would've found some other entertainment for the night and you'd be free to escape. Unlucky, that was not what happened. You sat back down in your seat, sending him a small smile while he shot you a wink. 

“Now it's my turn to empty the tank, be right back baby.” He stated, making his way towards the men's room, stopping to chit chat when a buddy of his stopped him. You were just happy for the few minutes of peace. 

You picked up your glass, ready to take a huge gulp of the only thing making this 'date’ bearable. Before you could though, Dean plopped himself into the seat previously occupied by shit for brains. 

“Hey.” He smiled widely, and suddenly your mood was uplifted. You smiled back at him, taking notice how much greener his eyes seemed in this dim lighting. 

“What do you want Winchester? I know you're not here just to talk. Getting lonely over on your side?” you teased him and he chuckled. 

“I hate frat parties, I don't like half these people, half the guys are losers who will do anything to get laid, and the girls well....they’re fun once in a while but after a while, you get bored of the same drunken girls and missionary sex with half the effort, or they end up barfing and you're stuck helping to get them home.” He shrugs, you practically choke out a laugh. “It’s too much work, I'm not a babysitter, if you can't handle your liquor, stay home.” He speaks and you chuckle. 

You nervously lift your glass again, needing a little more courage if you're going to have a conversation with Dean. Dean was one of the hottest boys in the frat house and all the girls knew it. So many of your own friends having tried it on with him, usually he didn't do much, it was very rare for him to have sex with them, most of the time, they'd fool around and he'd move on. The one positive about him was that at least he was clear about his intentions, unlike other jackasses in his frat. 

Just as you lifted your glass to your lips, Dean spoke, stopping you. 

“Don’t drink that, I think your dates trying to drug you.” He warned, and you stared at him with wide eyes before staring at your drink. You looked back at him before speaking. 

“How do you know?” you frowned and he shrugged, “I don't for sure, but when you stepped away he grabbed your drink and I caught him stirring it, when he put it back, it was fizzling, I don’t trust it.” He stated simply, you softly nodded before setting it down.

“Oh, well thank you, means a lot that you told me.” You smile, he smiled back, looking at you with a hint of longing. 

“Yeah well, I wouldn't want to see anything bad happen to you.” He shrugs, before you can say anything, Todd is back, clearing his throat. 

“Excuse me, you mind leaving my date alone. We're trying to enjoy our drinks.” Todd speaks, glaring at Dean. Dean stands, meeting him eye to eye, he's slightly taller than Todd, and from campus gossip, Dean wasn't someone easily fucked with. He was tough.

“Sure thing Todd, try not to drug her next one yeah?” Dean smirks and he begins to walk away but Todd grabs him, pulling him back. 

“The fuck you say to me, Winchester?” He asks, squinting at Dean. Dean rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and you can see the muscle he hides behind his flannels and leather jacket that's too big for his frame.

“Was I not clear enough” Dean sasses, before getting closer to his face. “Try. Not. To. Drug. Her. Next. Drink. Douchebag.” He smiles, “There, did you catch it that time?” He says sarcastically and the redness on Todd's face is comical.

“I didn't drug her drink, I don't do that!” Todd states furiously. He looks over at you and you shrug, “Baby don't listen to him, he's just jealous I got a date with you, everyone on campus knows one fuck Winchester has been dying to get in those panties since freshman year.” Todd laughs, Deans sarcastic smile disappearing and his face going blank, when his eyes meet Todd’s, it's clear he's angry. 

“Alright then, “ He speaks, he reaches over to the bar, grabbing your drink before handing it out to Todd. “If there's nothing in it, you won't mind drinking it yourself and giving her yours.” Dean shrugs, and Todd goes quiet, fidgeting before he gains his composure and speaks. 

“I don't like those fruity drinks, not my thing.” Todd smiles, winking over at you. You roll your eyes, before speaking. “Drink it, Todd. I'm not drinking that until you take the first sip, and make it a big one.” You raise an eyebrow, waiting. 

Todd never grabs it, instead, he huffs, running  a hand through his hair. “Fuck you, Winchester.” He snaps at Dean and Dean chuckles, “Nah, I don't swing that way, but thanks for the offer.” Dean winks and Todd runs off seething. 

Dean shakes his head, setting the drink back down, “Fucking twat.” He speaks, you chuckle before he looks back at you, smiling. 

“Sorry you had to deal with that.” You give him a small head shake, a silent signal not to worry, “It's not your fault, thanks for saving me.” You shrug and he nods before he gets up.

“I’m gonna head home, I think I've had enough entertainment for the night, enjoy your night, y/n.” He smiles, he begins to walk but you stop him.

“Hey Dean,” he stops and turns back to you, humming out, “Was what he said true?” you ask and he gives you a confused look. “About what?” he asks, barely having heard what he'd said to begin with. 

You get slightly shy, blushing slightly. “About uh, you know, wanting to get in my pants.” You ask, and he looks away, running a hand through his hair.

“Um, somewhat, not exactly.” He says honestly, half shrugging. You frown, giving him a confused look. 

“What do you mean somewhat?” You bite your lip, waiting for a response. 

He chuckles mostly to himself, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. “Well, he made it seem way more sexual, it's not like that. Some of the guys they uh, they know I've kinda been crushing on you since freshman year, but I never said anything about trying to get in your pants.” He states, a slight redness to his cheeks. 

You smile softly, “Oh, why didn't you say anything, or you know, ask me out?” You wonder, and he smirks, “I don't exactly have a great reputation, I figured you'd heard some stuff and wouldn't want to give me a chance, and I respect you too much to let people see us and think I just wanna get in your pants, you deserve better.” He shrugs and you smile widely. 

“Well, people can say and think what they want, I know you're a good guy, and if you wanted to ask me out, I'd be okay with that.” You shrug and his eyes light up. 

“really?” he asks and you nod. He softly laughs, “Well, in that case, would you like to get out of here, I know a good burger joint about 20 minutes away.” He raises a brow and you nod, “Hell yeah, let's go.” You grab your coat and purse before making your way towards the door. 

Just before they leave Dean turns to leave some cash on the counter for his drinks, and he catches Todd's eye, who's watching them enraged, Dean smiles, shooting him a wink before he turns back, walking out with y/n smiling widely at him.

[thejolexgroupchat]

One multi-fic, following these prompts: #26. “I’ll sleep under the sheets, you sleep on top of them.” to #27. “Trust me, I have no interest in sleeping with you.” to #28. “This is a one time thing.” to #29. “Okay, so maybe it’s a two time thing.” onto #30. “This needs to stop.” - (I know these prompts are usually used to one-shots but I cannot help but see all them working together in one fic!

Did we go overboard writing this? Maybe. 

Is it still a kickass piece? Of course. 

I have to say I really love how we all came together for this one! This takes place right after Bailey’s wedding, when Alex and Jo crash in that random hotel room.

This piece was written by @iamtrebleclefstories @choosingmywife and @doc-pickles Enjoy! ~ NP

the one with the midnight pizza

"Do you think he's gonna come back?" A heavily inebriated Jo asked with wide eyes.

"Nah," replied an equally drunk Alex.

"But all his stuff is in here," Jo pointed out. "He's gotta come back for his stuff."

"Oh crap," Alex began laughing. "We need to get out of here."

"We can't drive. We're drunk," Jo shook her head, a laugh escaping as she fell back onto the bed. “Oh shit, what are we gonna do?”

“Grab some bottles from the mini bar and then we’ll find a cab back to my place,” Alex looked up at Jo, whose face was twisted into a disgusted expression. “Don’t get any ideas, I have no interest in sleeping with you Hobo Jo. I just don’t want you to go home alone and choke on your own vomit or something.”

Jo gathered the bottles and stuffed them into an empty pillowcase (like a hobo, just needs a stick). She searched around for her purse and shoes, only to see Alex holding them up, "You looking for these?"

"Thanks," she grinned as she caught them. "Don't forget your tie! It's hanging on the bathroom door."

Jo and Alex giggled quietly as they opened the door and looked around to ensure that the coast was clear. They ran down the hallway, boarding the elevator as they collapsed in a fit of even more giggles. It took him a second, but Alex was finally able to calm his laughter enough to call for a cab. When they exited the elevator, Jo and Alex ran past the front desk quickly, hoping to avoid anyone that might’ve seen them earlier. 

“You’re gonna get us into trouble if you keep laughing like that,” Alex pointed his finger accusingly at Jo, laughter still bubbling from his own mouth. “And I’m not gonna fake cry my way outta this one.”

Jo took a deep calming breath and attempted to act natural as they walked through the lobby and out the doors into the cold December air. They waited outside, shivering in the cold for the cab that was on its way. Jo was trembling in her strapless dress and wished she would’ve brought the robe with her. Alex may have the reputation of being a jackass, but part of him felt bad for the intern standing next to him. She was actually a lot of fun to hang around, so for that reason, he decided to be nice. He removed his suit jacket and placed it on her shoulders.

Jo raised her eyebrows in surprise. Alex rolled his eyes, “Don’t make it a thing.”

Jo shrugged and relished in the warmth of his jacket. She thought about the events that led up to that moment and couldn’t help herself when she began to chuckle again. The situation was absolutely ridiculous. She had spent the night drinking with her boss, getting drunk off her ass, teaching him how to fake cry, hijacked a stranger’s hotel room, and now was on her way back to his house because she was way too drunk to get back home on her own. It sounded like the start of a bad rom-com and Jo’s inebriated brain conjured many images that caused her laugh harder. 

Hearing Jo laugh was not an easy thing. Jo’s laughter was contagious. And maybe part of it was due to the fact that he was drunk, but Alex was sure that even sober, he wouldn’t be able to resist joining her. It had been ages since he had laughed so hard he cried and Alex knew instantly that the woman standing next to him was someone he’d definitely like to keep around. 

The cab finally arrived and Alex helped Jo into the backseat as he gave the driver his address. The drive was full of jokes and unintelligible speech that Alex was positive had the driver on the verge of throwing them out the car. When the driver pulled up to the house, Alex had sobered up enough to think to give the cab driver a nice tip for putting up with their craziness. 

“I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in like… decades,” a string of giggles left Jo again as she leaned against the side of the house, waiting for Alex to unlock the front door. “I think I did a full 20 minute ab workout routine.”

“Lucky for you no one else is home to hear your absurdly loud laughter,” Alex pushed the door open and ushered Jo through, his hand gently resting on her lower back. “Come on Princess, let’s go upstairs.”

“You’re just trying to get me into bed aren’t you,” Jo narrowed her eyes at Alex, who rolled his eyes. “It’s not gonna wo- Oh!”

Before she’d had a chance to protest, Alex had thrown Jo over his shoulder and began to walk up the staircase towards his bedroom. Jo let a squeal out, voicing her displeasure with her situation, “This doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with you!”

“Then get your hand off my ass,” Alex retorted, fingers squeezing Jo’s thigh as he swung her back over his shoulder and settled her onto his bed. “I’ll grab you a change of clothes, I’m sure when you inevitably puke you won’t want it on your nice dress.” 

Jo bit her lip as she watched him search his dresser for some clothes for her to change into. For the first time, she actually understood the obsession that all of the girls in her class seemed to have with Karev. He was smooth, funny as hell, and actually kind of charming if he tried. Jo averted her eyes when he turned back to look at her in hopes that he wouldn’t catch her admiring him.

“Were you staring at my ass?” Alex raised an eyebrow.

“What? No,” Jo scoffed. “I was not staring at your ass.”

“Yes you were,” Alex’s face donned a shit eating grin. “First you grab my ass, now you’re staring. For someone who claims that they don’t want to sleep with me, you’re doing a very bad job at making me believe it.”

“I wasn’t staring… I’m drunk and I zoned out. That’s all,” Jo attempted to make up a plausible excuse. 

“Sure, whatever you say princess,” Alex shook his head and tossed Jo an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers. “Put these on. I’ll be in the bathroom, try not to break anything while I’m gone.”

She stood in his bedroom for about three minutes attempting to get her dress off, when she finally gave up. Jo walked over to the bathroom door and knocked, “I need help.”

Alex poked his head out the bathroom, “What? Why are you still dressed?”

“I can’t get the zipper down,” Jo frowned. 

Alex huffed a laugh as he opened the door all the way, “Turn around.”

Jo did as she was told and tried desperately not to think about the fact that he was standing behind her only in a pair of boxers as his fingers grazed her back. The breath hitched in her throat and she willed her heart to slow down as she felt him open the zipper slowly. 

As soon as she stepped out of her dress she realized that heart flutter was actually bile climbing up her esophagus. Clad only in her panties, she shoved Alex out of the way and sprinted to the toilet barely making it before all the most recent contents of her stomach reappear. She jumped when she felt a hand on her back as Alex gathered her hair to keep it out of the line of fire. Once he’s braided it and twisted it into a knot to stay up, he grabbed a wet washcloth and draped it on her neck while delicately rubbing up and down her spine. 

Though mortified, Jo felt exponentially better and the heavy fog from her brain lifted just enough to savor Alex’s gentle touch. While waiting to determine if a second wave of nausea is en route she slows her breathing, head and arms draped on the toilet seat.

“This is embarrassing,” Jo groaned. “I just vomited all over my boss’ bathroom in my underwear.”

“Dude, don’t worry about it Wilson. This isn’t even the weirdest thing I’ve had happen with a girl in my bathroom,” Alex rubbed her back.

“Why am I not surprised,” Jo muttered. “Were you their boss though??” She counters and then added, “and now that you’ve seen me puke, probably best to just call me Jo.”

“Stop thinking of me as your boss then,” Alex offered. “Just think of me as Alex. Trust me it’s easier. I used to live with Shepherd and the amount of times he and I found ourselves in awkward situations was insane. Outside the hospital, he was Derek, not my boss. Same goes here.”

He left her side again only to return with the t-shirt he had given her earlier and some water. “Arms up!” 

“Alex, I’m not a toddler, I can dress myself!” 

“Jo, you couldn’t even undress yourself. Now put your arms up and let’s rinse out that puky mouth of yours.” 

Grumbling, Jo raised her hands in surrender while Alex pulled the shirt on while his fingers skimmed her torso. She immediately got goosebumps but didn’t have time to dwell on the tingly feeling. As soon as the oversized Iowa wrestling shirt had covered her mostly naked self, he wrapped his arms under her armpits to lift her up from the cool tile bathroom floor. Steadily they made it to the sink where he had a cap of mouthwash waiting for her. Alex started brushing his own teeth, never breaking eye contact with Jo in the mirror, worried she’s about to collapse or vomit again. Once she swished for the recommended 30 seconds, she spat and blew minty breath into his face. For reasons Jo can’t gather, he didn’t seem to be that amused but whatever this night can’t get any weirder. She picked up the water glass from the floor and made her wobbly way over to his bed. 

The date with the porcelain throne left Jo significantly more awake and coherent, or so she thought. Gathering herself and her water she stood up from his bed to go downstairs to pass out on what she hopes is a very comfortable couch in his den. Though she’s not sure she saw any furniture when they made their way upstairs earlier… Guess she’ll find out soon. She made it three steps towards the door before a wave of dizziness smacked her in the face. Frustrated, she mused that maybe sleeping here was the wisest decision. She was just being practical, not wanting to hurt herself or anyone else by falling down the stairs. Also, he said to call him Alex. If this were any other guy friend she wouldn’t think twice about it. Resolute in her choice she clambered over to the other side of Alex’s bed, lifted the comforter, and slid all the way under as the overhead light was suddenly way too bright.

Alex walked back in and seeing her braided bun peeking out from the blanket he started mumbling and grabbing his pillow and Advil from his nightstand.

Hearing the commotion, Jo flips back the duvet and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Getting my crap to sleep since you claimed the bed, Princess,” he said rolling his eyes at the obvious and handing her three pills. 

“Don’t be a weirdo,” she scoffed, “your bed is so huge we can both sleep in it without ever coming close to touching.”

Considering the argument for a moment and the fact that the only other option is the floor, Alex drops his pillows and sighs, “Fine. I’ll sleep under the sheets, you sleep on top of them.”

“Already there, Mister. You think I want to rub up against whatever you have lurking in your bed linens?” 

“Yeah yeah, just take one Advil now and put the other two on your nightstand for the morning. If you need more, it’s on my side, just try not to puke on me if you grab it in the middle of the night. I’ve got some pedialyte in the fridge if you need it, just don’t drink it all”

“You’re a regular Prince Charming, Dr. Karev.” Jo said, swallowing all three pills and shimmying back under the covers. “Mm your bed is comfy, I might stay here awhile.”

“Don’t even think about it, I enjoy sleeping alone and sprawling out,” Alex looked over his shoulder, eyeing Jo as she nestled herself further into the blankets. For some strange reason, seeing her lying down next to him wasn’t strange. It felt natural, as though they’d slept beside each other for years. He tried to ignore the feeling and turned so that his back was facing her. 

After some time, Alex could feel her breathing even out, signaling that she was asleep. Finally, he allowed himself to relax. Ever since he’d lied down, his mind began racing with countless scenarios of what life would be like if he got to go to sleep and wake up with the woman beside him every morning. The thoughts almost made him want to join Jo in puking. This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t soft or hopeful. He didn’t daydream about a life with someone who made him laugh until he cried. No, he needed to get over whatever the hell this was. He thought about those things for a bit longer before drifting off to sleep. 

A few hours later, Alex felt someone poke him in the side. He swat the offending hand away as he turned in his sleep. The prodding got more insistent, and he groaned as his brain began to register that someone was trying to get his attention.

“Psst,” the poking continued. “Hey, Alex.”

“What?” Alex finally opened his eyes to see Jo staring back at him. “Leave me alone. I’m sleeping here.”

“I just need your address. I’m ordering pizza and I need to tell the guy where to deliver it,” Jo explained.

Alex turned over to look at the clock on his nightstand, “Jo, it is one in the morning.”

“And?” Jo raised her eyebrows. “I’m hungry. We were so busy getting drunk at the wedding that we didn’t really eat anything.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Alex grumbled. “Give me the phone.”

He listed off his address to the delivery person in the other line and was told that it would arrive in ten minutes. Alex sighed and rubbed the sleep out of his face, “How are you awake right now? You were completely wasted.”

“I think the Advil and puking helped,” Jo confessed. 

“You’re a mess,” Alex shook his head. 

“You think this is bad? Should’ve seen me in med school,” Jo wriggled her eyebrows.

“Yes of course. Hobo Jo who is still learning how to be civilized,” Alex teased. 

“You’re one to talk,” Jo stuck her tongue out at him. “Might I remind you that you were the one who suggested the hotel room idea. Also, you’re like what, seven years older than me? Shouldn’t you be past this stuff?”

“That’s... a fair point,” Alex flopped back onto his pillow, closing his eyes as he attempted to fall back asleep. “How good do you think a pizza place is that's open 24/7? That can’t be that great…” 

“Are you kidding? Those are the best ones. They are greasy and great for hangovers. Late night taco places are really great too,” Jo grinned.

“As long as you’re paying, I’ll eat whatever.”

Minutes later, the doorbell rang. Jo searched around for her purse only to sway when she tried to get up and walk to the hallway. Realizing that she would probably hurt herself trying to make her way down the stairs, Alex sighed, “Sit down. I’ll go get the pizza. Just give me your wallet.”

Part of Jo wanted to protest, but realistically, she knew that there was no way she’d be able to make it down the steps and back up again without falling. Although she was not nearly as drunk as she had been when they first arrived, Jo was still tipsy enough to be off balance. She handed her wallet over to Alex and sat back down on his bed, waiting for him to bring the pizza up. 

“You know, this actually smells pretty good. Not gonna lie.What kind did you order? ” Alex commented as she walked back in the room with the pizza in hand. He opened the box and nodded his head in approval. “Ooh, stuffed crust meat lovers. Good choice.” 

He sat down on the bed and Jo reached over to grab a slice. Biting into the pizza, Jo moaned, “Wow this is incredible. Best decision I’ve ever made while drunk.”

Alex wasn’t sure if it was the leftover alcohol in his system, but something about seeing Jo getting pizza crumbs all over his bed sheets made his heart skip a few beats. He stared at her for a while, taking in her form. It was like he was seeing her in a new light. She was no longer the intern who had a crappy childhood just like him. She was Jo. He was finally seeing her for who she was and she intrigued him. She was beautiful; messy hair and pizza hanging out of her mouth. 

“What?”

Jo’s voice startled Alex out of his daze, eyes blinking as he tried to focus on anything that wasn’t the woman sitting in his bed. He grabbed a piece of pizza and took a bite, shaking his head in Jo’s direction as he spoke through his full mouth, “Nothing.”

“Ugh close your mouth,” Jo groaned as she finished off the piece in her hand. 

They ate the entire pizza and discarded the box on the floor. The food had helped absorb some of the alcohol still in their stomachs and by the time they were done eating, they both felt significantly less drunk. So, there was really no way they could blame the following events on alcohol. 

“Well now I’m much less drunk than earlier and I am absolutely wide awake,” Jo fell dramatically back into the pillows, turning her eyes to him. Her eyelashes batted against her cheeks and Alex could feel his heart constricting oddly in his chest. “What is with that look? You keep staring at me like you’re going to do something stupid.”

“What if I did? Do something stupid I mean,” Alex could hear the change in his voice as he speaks, his heart hammering in his chest as he locked eyes with Jo. 

“Like what? How stupid are we talking here,” Jo’s own heart was beating erratically as she watched Alex with curiosity. His eyes were darker and she couldn’t help but focus on the way his lips pressed together. 

“Like this,” Alex’s lips were on Jo’s in a flash, her fingers instantly came up to run through his hair as she gasped in shock. They stood  like this for a minute more before Jo pulled back and met Alex’s intense gaze. 

“You and me… we work so good as friends and I don’t wanna screw that up but… God I want you right now, so badly,” Jo’s tongue darted out to wet her lips and it was all Alex could do not to press his lips back against hers. “I’ve wanted you all damn night but this… this is a one time thing. Can’t happen again, got it?”

“Got it,” Alex affirmed and bent back down to kiss her again. 

Jo had no idea how much time had passed, but no matter how much her lungs were screaming for air, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Eventually, their kisses became more heated and Alex began to trail his lips down her neck. Jo gasped as he found a spot that she hadn’t even known existed. In those few moments just kissing him, Jo felt more pleasure than ever before. She knew she wouldn’t last long if he kept going like this. 

Jo pushed Alex onto his back and straddled his waist, leaning back down to kiss him again. She felt his hands grip her hips tightly, encouraging her to grind against him. Suddenly, Alex sat up, allowing Jo to wrap her legs around him. She felt his hands wander up her—his—shirt and fiddle with her bra straps. Jo reached down and removed the shirt, leaving her in the fancy bra and panties she’d worn under her evening gown. In that moment, Jo was extremely glad she had chosen to wear a nice set. Alex let his eyes wander and felt himself grow consumed by desire. He bent his head forward and began to press kisses all over Jo’s chest. His lips traced the straps of her bra and he reached behind to unclasp it. 

Letting the bra fall, Jo suddenly began to feel self-conscious. This was Alex Karev. He was known for having been with countless women. Gorgeous women. Although she’d long since gotten over the majority of her physical insecurities, there was still a small part of her that was worried that she wouldn’t be enough. That her body wouldn’t compare to the rest of the women who’d found themselves in this same exact position. 

She was about to cover her breasts with her arms when she heard Alex take a sharp inhale. He gently took them into his hands and began to press light kisses all over them, leaving her panting and breathless. It was insane just how aroused she felt. It was as though every nerve in her body was on fire. Jo’s hands found their way to Alex’s hair and pressed him closer to her. 

“I’m not going to last much longer with the way you’re using your hands,” Jo’s voice grew breathy, to the point she could barely recognize it as she let her eyes close in pleasure. 

“It’s okay, I’m planning on keeping you here for awhile,” Alex’s lips trailed up and sucked right below her ear, eliciting a low moan from her. “Especially if this is the only time I get to have you in my bed.”

It’s not even a week later that Jo found herself pinned against the wall of an on call room with Alex’s lips on hers again, his hands doing wondrous things to her as she bit back moan after moan. They’d had a long day, they’d lost one too many patients, they’d been yelled at by angry relatives… those were the excuses that Jo was conjuring up in her head to explain the reason she found herself in this position again, despite insisting that what had happened after Bailey’s wedding was a one time thing. 

“Two times.” Alex’s head lifted up from her neck, brows furrowed as he looked into her eyes, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Maybe, it’s a two time thing,” Jo answered breathlessly, trying to distract herself from Alex’s hand that was still lingering on her chest. “After this… no more.”

Alex nodded in understanding, his lips crashing back onto hers as his hands desperately pulled her scrub top away from her body. For how much she said she didn’t want this, Jo couldn’t deny that Alex made her feel more alive than anyone else she’d been with. 

“Oh! Right there,” Jo bit her lip as Alex’s lips trailed down her body. She could feel the smirk he wore pressed against her hot skin. “Don’t get cocky about it.”

“I don’t have to get cocky. I’m that good,” Alex’s smirk grew as he pushed Jo onto a bed. He helped take her pants off and slid her to the edge as he fell to his knees. He looked up at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “You might want to hold onto something, Princess.” 

Two months and seventeen hookups later—not that she’s been counting—Jo figured that her resolve was shot. She couldn’t explain how or why but her heart picked up its pace every time that Alex was near her now. She’d found herself sitting at Joe’s with Steph and Shane that night, minding her own business when she had felt his eyes on her. Even across the room, her heart began to beat faster with just the knowledge that he was so close. She’d hastily made an excuse to her friends and bolted out the door of the bar before anyone could protest.

That had been 20 minutes ago, she was now pressed into Alex’s mattress with both of their shirts strewn across the staircase, abandoned in their hurry to get upstairs and into bed together. Jo was trying to distract herself from the thoughts swirling in her head, but it was useless. She couldn’t keep doing this because it was going to ruin her from the inside out. Everytime Alex’s lips met her skin or their eyes met or their bodies moved in sync she had to stop herself from crying out her feelings, crying out how much she loved the man she’d fallen into this routine with.

“Stop,” Jo tried to get the word out, but it came out breathy and quiet. Louder this time, she moved her palms to push against Alex’s shoulders. “Stop, stop! I can’t!”

Alex pulled back quickly, eyes following Jo as she pushed him away and leapt out of his bed. He ran a hand through his hair and took a steadying breath before speaking, “What? Did I do something wrong? You usually like when I—”

“No no, this needs to stop! We can’t keep doing this, Alex. I can’t keep doing this,” Jo paced back and forth across the room.

“Jo calm down. Why are you freaking out all of a sudden?” Alex stood and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to stop pacing. “Look at me. What’s going on here? Because I thought we were good.”

“We aren’t good,” Jo shook her head and closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I let this happen. I’m so stupid. I became another one of the stupid naked girls in your bed. This needs to stop because I don’t think I can handle it when this ends.”

“Why is this ending?” Alex asked, as if she hadn’t heard him the first time he asked. 

“Because I have feelings!” Jo shouted, glassy eyes taking in Alex’s shocked face. “I have feelings! Way too many feelings. Dangerous feelings that just might destroy everything I’ve tried to build for myself here. I know to you, I’m just another one of the girls dumb enough to jump into bed with you, but I got attached. I have to end this, because eventually, you’ll get bored and find someone better. One day, you’ll find someone so much better than me and then it’ll be too late for me to pick up the pieces.”

Alex stood there stunned for a few moments. His jaw had dropped and his eyes were wide. He had no idea that Jo felt this way. For months, he’d been trying to deny the fact that he had fallen in love with her because he didn’t want to lose this. He must’ve taken too long thinking about all the words he could say to her because she ripped herself from his grasp.

“God, I’m an idiot. I knew I would mess it up. I mess everything good in my life up. We work really well as friends, and I had to go and ruin it,” Jo let out a defeated sigh, tears in her eyes. “I’m just gonna go. I’m sorry.”

Jo was already halfway out the door, when she heard Alex call behind her, “Jo! Wait!”

She cringed as she turned around to face him, “Don't do this. Don’t say that we can still be friends and we can forget about this, because I can’t forget. I won’t forget.”

“That’s not what I was gonna say,” Alex shook his head. He took a deep breath and grabbed Jo’s hand, pulling her back into the room. He closed the door and looked deeply into her eyes. “You didn’t mess it up. You could never mess it up. You said you have feelings and so do I. You might be too afraid to say them out loud, but I’m... saying them.”

Alex opened and closed his mouth dumbly. Jo stared at him with wide eyes, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Shut up,” Alex rolled his eyes. 

“Okay but...” 

Alex narrowed his eyes, “I’m serious.”

“Fine,” Jo conceded. 

“I love you,” Alex stated. “I’ve loved you ever since that first night when you woke me up because you were hungry, so we ordered pizza and you got the crumbs all over my bed sheets.”

Jo felt like the wind had been knocked out of her chest, “You—what? You love me? You love me?”

“Yeah,” Alex nodded. He sighed and put his hands on either side of her face. “I love you, Jo.”

“Woah,” Jo croaked, eyes looking at him in disbelief.

Alex’s face twitched into his signature crooked grin, “Yeah.”

Jo’s eyes flicked between his eyes and lips and before she knew it, she was being pulled into a breathtaking kiss. Her heart pounded as she allowed herself to get lost in the sensation. They’d kissed countless times before, Alex’s lips on her was not a new sensation, but this kiss was different. Jo could feel the emotion behind it, could feel the truth behind Alex’s words as they kissed each other with a hunger that hadn’t been there before. 

Jo pulled back from Alex, eyes taking in his face and the look in his eyes. She’d seen it before, when he’d meet her gaze while they laid in bed together. She hadn’t been able to tell before, but the look was full of love, that same pesky emotion she’d been trying to push away all day, “I love you too, for the record.”

Alex smirked, hands sliding up Jo’s still bare chest as he pressed a kiss to her neck, “Does that mean we can get back to what we were doing now?”

A string of laughter escaped Jo as she dragged Alex back to bed, chastising him for his one track mind as they fell into the routine they’d become so accustomed to. 

[zankivich]

The Assistant: Shawn Mendes x Personal Assistant: A One-shot

a/n: this is just me seeing if I could even still write for this man tbh. I’ve been getting very good at separating my emotions about the pr stunt, and I think that’s because I literally have blocked it from my social media in every way, shape, or form. Honestly when I wrote this I envisioned a black woman because that’s just where I’m at in life, but I never specified so....do with it what you will. K bye. 

WARNINGS: mutual pining, fluff, love.

“Stop it, jackass.”

“No Shawn, seriously. Stop!”

“Stop! We’re going to be late, and if I have to hear Andrew complain one more time about it, I’m kicking your ass, do you hear me?!”

Being the personal assistant to Shawn Mendes is basically the best job in the world. You got to travel all the time. You got to learn more about the music industry than your internship at a record label had ever taught you. And he just happened to be the sweetest, most wholesome person on the planet. Except for when he was getting on your goddamn nerves. This just happened to be his favorite past time.

You’d been his PA for four years and no one knew him better. You knew his coffee order, what size underwear he wore, and the brand of cough medicine he trusted most. You knew what made him scared in life, what one sigh meant from another when it came past his lips, and when he was hungry or tired or emotional. What you hadn’t been prepared for was for Shawn to learn these things about you. And what you should have prepared yourself for was the trouble that this would bring.

Shawn had spent the last twenty minutes playing with some nerf gun that Brian had bought. He thought it would be a wonderful idea to see if he could hit you with it from multiple points around his hotel room. Shawn was usually business all the time, and so you loved any opportunity for him to get to relax and be a twenty-one year old. He had taken advantage of this and was more excited for a nerf battle than the business meeting he needed to be at in forty-five minutes.

“You have goooooot to relax a little bit.” He sighed rolling his eyes and dropping the gun.

He made his way over to you and slid his oversized palms onto your shoulders. Screw him. He was so warm and tall and chiseled. Dumb. So dumb.

“I could relax a lot more if you just let me do my job.” You pouted.

He snorted softly and let his thumb touch your chin.

“Is this you pouting now? You’re gonna try and guilt trip me with a pout?”

“That depends....Is it working?”

He licked his lip and you honestly could have swung on him. There was no need for him to behavior is such a sensual matter. Damn him.

“I’ll get my shoes on.” He hummed in defeat. “Just don’t be sad.”

You smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

He paused for a second, his hands still poised on your shoulders. There’s a moment of silence where it’s just the two of you looking at each other. You up at the mammoth you called a boss, and him down at you with those honey brown eyes. You hated when he looked at you this way, like he might wanna try something, like he might actually care about you the way that you cared about him. All it did was cause you unnecessary hurt, and very vivid daydreams.

See there’s a running joke in the Shawn Mendes team. If you want Shawn to do anything, then you simply just call y/n. The two of you were closer than closer, and he seemed to trust you with his life. Eventually you had become friends. Close friends. And so it suddenly became less “go buy me a juice” and more “can I lay my head in your lap until my migraine passes”. When the road was cold and lonely and he had no one, it was you he cuddled up to. For Shawn it was the convenience of it. You were there and you could provide him with what he needed. But for you? God touching him was like lightning. And you hated every second where it wasn’t real, where it didn’t mean the same thing to him. More than anything you hated the way that you loved it, because it meant being in his orbit.

“Go get your shoes on. Please?” You whispered.

He nodded slowly and pulled away finally giving you a moment to breathe.

The ride to this meeting was a quiet one. You struggled with Shawn’s affectionate touches and the ridiculously soft glances. Every now and again it got to be too much, and you had to preserve yourself if you were going to stay afloat. Working for Shawn was a joy, but that didn’t stop it from hurting sometimes.

The car pulled up to the destination and Shawn went to open his door only to stop when you didn’t follow him.

“Aren’t you coming?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I’m gonna go pick up your suit for your party.”

“Oh...Well you’re still coming to the party right?”

“Of course. I’m on duty, Shawn.”

He frowned. “No you’re not. I invited you as a friend.”

“Yea well Andrew knows better than to let you go to an open party with alcohol without me, so...I’ll be there regardless.”

“Okay well...I’m sorry you have to put up with me for the night.” He mumbled closing the door.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the headrest. Now you were both in a bad mood. Ugh.

***

New Year’s Eve was testing your patience. Here you were looking good as hell, ass all poised and waiting to be grabbed. What did you get instead? Nothing. Not a look, not a squeeze. You took another sip out of your vodka soda and went to stand up only to figure out that the previous two drinks before it, were a little stronger than you remembered. Shit.

“Woops! I’m sorry!” You gasped knocking into someone behind you.

“Sorry I--Oh, hey.”

You bit you lip and peered up at Shawn. The suit looked even better on him now then it did when he first stepped into it. And then there were his rosey cheeks and the heat of the room getting to his curls by the moment. He was absolutely stunning, and you couldn't believe you were about to enter another year of being practically suffocated by the weight of him.

“Hi.” You murmured reaching one of his arms to stabilize yourself. “How are you doing?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been alright. It’s been kinda hard to have fun though. My best friend’s been MIA.”

You snorted. “Is that so?”

“Yep. She got mad at me earlier, and I’m not really quite sure why. Perhaps you could tell me. I hear men are pretty dumb.”

You let your body weight lean into him, and sighed happily when his hands fell to your waist. Usually you’d do anything to stay away from this kind of contact, but vodka is a hell of a thing.

“It’s fine. I’m over it.” You assured him.

His eyebrows scrunched together at your words. That sort of Canadian pout of his. It was extremely effective.

“See, but I don’t even understand why you do that. Sometimes it’s like you're pissed at me, and then maybe you decide to get over it all without ever telling me what I’ve done in the first place.”

“Look let’s just enjoy the night, huh? It’s New Year’s Eve. All your friends and family are here. Let’s not make it more complicated.”

“Fine. But only if you promise to stop sulking in a corner and come have fun with me.” He mumbled. “I’ve like missed you all day.”

It was moments like that that you just wanted to shake him and yell. How could he not see what he was putting you through? How was it not incredibly obvious how in love you were with him? But you could tell just by the look on his face that he was being as sincere as ever. Shawn was just too kind for his own good, and for yours apparently.

“Yea, okay. Let’s have fun.”

*two hours later*

You are drunk. And the only reason you know how drunk you are is because you’ve lost your ability to measure other people’s drunkness. As far as your ass is concerned, everyone is living their best life and no one is any drunker than one another. Dumb. You should have known Shawn was drunk off his ass the minute he started hugging strangers. But alas, if Andrew’s expectation was that you were meant to keep him out of trouble then...you just might be fired tomorrow.

“You smell amazing.” Shawn whispered in your ear as he threw himself onto your back, arms wrapping tightly around you. “Where have you been all my life?”

You giggled. “I’ve been here, kiddo. You know, controlling your day to day life, keeping you afloat?”

“Not like that. I mean...I mean like...where have you been ya know?” He mumbled taking a sip out of a champagne bottle.

Sober you would’ve gotten him straight to bed at this point. Drunk you was a little dumber.

“No I don’t!”

“You just...God you’re so beautiful ya know?” He huffed bringing your foreheads together. “It drives me crazy.”

“What? What did you say?”

“Y/n I--”

“Shawn!”

And just like that, one minute the boy you like is hovering over you with heart eyes and the next his friends are practically picking him up. Jon, Brian, and Connor descended like wolves, quickly rushing Shawn away from you.

“We’ll be right back!” Bryan called over his shoulder.

You were left to your own devices and the only thing you could think to do in your drunken state was...to go complain to Aalyiah about how dumb her brother was. You know, like a crazy person.

“Hey what’s wrong?” She asked softly, not nearly as drunk as you. It must have been the whole underage thing.

You shook your head. “Your brother is an idiot.”

“Oh I’m aware. But why in particular is he an idiot this time?”

“He just can’t communicate jackshit unless it’s in a song. Can’t tell anyone how he feels. Just likes to stick his dumb, big head everywhere with his dumb big eyes and his dumb smile. I’m sick of it, ya know?”

Aaliyah smiled softly at you and squeezed your shoulder.

“Oh you poor thing. You want me to talk to him?”

You eyes widened. “No. Oh no, ‘Lyiah, not at all. I was just blowing off steam.”

“Uh huh…”

“No seriously. Promise me you won’t say anything.”

She rolled her eyes. “But y/n--”

“No promise me!”

“Alright, alright, Jeez. I promise.” She groaned. “But for the record if this is how complicated adults liking each other is, I want no part in it.”

“‘Liking’? Who said anything about liking?”

“Oh y/n...Please.”

“I liked you better when you were younger and shyer.”

*meanwhile in the corner on the opposite side of the party*

“What the hell guys!” Shawn muttered still trying to peer over the heads of people to see y/n.

Jon clicked his fingers in front of his face. “Excuse me? You told us not to let you get carried away with y/n tonight, remember?”

“...No. not really. And I retract my statement, now if you’ll excuse me...Goddamit, guys!”

They weren’t budging. And Shawn was pretty sure he was thinking clearer than he had in years. Save for the bottle of champagne in his hand.

“Bro, stop being an idiot, you’re blowing my high here!” Brian yelled at him. “You don’t want to fuck things up with y/n remember? You don’t want to mix business with pleasure! These are your words.”

“But...But...she’s so pretty.” He whined closing his eyes in despair. “So pretty.”

Jon snorted. “Oh to be young and in love. What a travesty.”

“Look we’ve got ten minutes until the ball drops. Let’s get you a fresh bottle of champagne and try to relax, aye?”

Shawn couldn’t quite do anything but pout.

“Fine. Let me go dammit.”

And thus the two were separate as the party began to re-hype for the ball drop. Brian got Shawn a bottle of champagne, his friends surrounding him on all sides so that he didn’t make any mistakes. Y/n was left to chill back in her corner. Without Shawn to hang out with, and his friends--which used to be her friends--being assholes, it was a lost cause.

At some point you were just waiting for the night to end. You wanted to go back to your hotel and sleep and forget all about Shawn’s dumb face when he told you how beautiful you were. What a joke. This whole night was a joke. Usually Jon and you would’ve spent the whole night making fun of all the white people, Connor would have hung on your hip like he always tended to do. Even Brian was a cocky son of a bitch who let you give it right back to him. But Shawn didn’t want to be near you for some reason. Friends. Yea right.

It wasn’t until everyone begin counting that you realized you weren’t in the mood at all. The excitement. The joy. It just wasn’t there. So you decided to leave. Meanwhile, at the clock struck midnight, Shawn busted open a bottle of champagne to spray his friends with. It’d been a hell of a year and he knew he deserved to celebrate a little bit. So the hugs go all the way around and he squeezes them tight enough that he hopes they know how much he loves them. He’s drunk and he’s happy and when those two things happen there’s typically on one person he wants to share that with. But it only takes one look around the room to see you’re not there. And that’s the opposite of what he wanted.

“Hey! Hey! Have you seen y/n?” He asked Jon who had quickly discovered his girlfriend’s throat after the ball drop.

“No man. And you shouldn’t either.” He huffed.

But Shawn had no time for his friend’s bullshit. This was the woman of his dream they were talking about here.

Brian was practically tripping balls and extremely ineffective. Connor was sympathetic but hadn’t seen her. His next best guess was Aaliyah, who was looking a little wobbily like maybe she’s stolen a drink or two. (He was too drunk and too fixated on y/n to remember that he’d been the one to give them to her).

“Sis, have you seen y/n? I can’t find her anywhere!”

She rolled her eyes. “No! But she probably got tired of the games and went back to her room.”

“What games? What are you talking about?”

“She’s tired of you acting like you want her until it gets too serious and then backing away and pretending you’re just friends. It’s bullshit and it hurts and she probably got fed up. Let me guess tonight’s plan was to have the guys keep you away from her?”

Having a sixteen year old sister who’s smarter than you is truly terrible.

He stared at her dumbfounded. “I…”

“Yea, that’s what I thought. Look if you don’t want to be with her just leave her alone. She’s not some play toy, alright?”

“I’m not--that’s not even remotely what’s going on!” He muttered at her.

“Well that’s what it looks like! Women aren’t stupid and you’re not clever, dumbass. Stop messing with her. It’s driving her crazy.”

He rubbed his hands over his face thankful when the music finally cut down as people took the time to huge and squeeze their loved ones for the new year. His little sister had never been one to let him off the hook, and it was nice to know some things weren't going to change in 2020.

“I’m in love with her!” He bursted. “I’ve been in love with her since the moment I saw her, and I didn’t want to let her go, okay? She’s amazing at her job and she’s my best friend. And I need her in my life. So, I thought I’d rather have a part of her forever than ever face the possibility of losing her. She’s not some plaything alright...she’s--she’s everything.”

And just like that the anger on her face twisted to happiness and she quickly reached to pat him on the shoulder. Teenage girls were practically navy seals mixed with ninjas or some shit.

“See, now was that so hard?”

“Look don’t take this the wrong way but I think you might be a sociopath.”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes again and pointed over his shoulder. He turned to see y/n standing there with her jacket in hand looking about as shocked as he felt. Suddenly the room was much warmer than he remembered, and his hair felt sweaty against eh back of his next. The cat was out of the bag.

“H--How much of that did you hear?” He asked you, walking slowly in your direction.

You bit your lip. “I showed up around the ‘love’ part.”

“Oh...okay. Do you wanna--can we maybe go somewhere and talk?”

“I don’t know. I’m drunk. You’re drunk. I’d probably just go to sleep thinking I made the shit up.”

He shook his head. “That couldn’t be y/n. I meant it. Every word.”

“Yea? Then prove it.”

“Prove it? How?”

“I don’t know! I’m drunk, shit.” You whined.

He rolled his eyes up at the ceiling and stalked closer to you until you had to peer up in order to see him. His warmth was intoxicating, the smell of campagne still fresh on his lips. This is dangerous territory. There are witnesses. No room for him to go back when he changes his mind in the morning. His fingers cup your cheek.

“Shawn.” You warned jaw going slack in his grip.

“You drive me absolutely crazy, you know that?” He whispered, breath fanning your face.

“Yea, the feeling is mutual...Don’t play with me right now.”

“I’m not. I swear to you. We can figure the rest out tomorrow, but for now, I love you.”

“Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

There were tears in your eyes threatening to fall, and your body as lose as it was from the alcohol was still struggling to let go. You’d dreamt about these words long enough that reality has begun to blur. Who knows what’s real and what isn’t.

“I mean it.” He hummed so softly against your lips. “I mean it, I mean it, I mean it. I love you. Let me show you.”

Leave it to your New Year’s kiss to come fifteen minutes late. But there’s not a care in the world when his lips are on yours. Your toes dig into the carpet as you lean up to kiss him something soft and chaste turning more dominant by the second. If this was a dream, let them never wake you up. Because it felt so real. So right. So soft.

“Happy New Year sweetheart.” He whispered against your ear.

And a happy new year it was.

The End.

Taglist: 

@liliane106 @wokeupinjapanisabop @sinplisticshawn @lifeoftheparty74 @xeuphorically-moonstruck @euphoric05 @daijanicole @bruhh-whateven @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @decewill @goldiean @bitchacho25 @bruhh-whateven @justbeingoceana @loveylangdon @iloveshawnieboi @september-lace @disaster-rose @dimestorebieber22 @sinplisticshawn@MixerMani  @justbeingoceana @qcoachcartier @simpledomain @kamahriii @lifeoftheparty74 @valedictorian65

[geronimo-11]

john & casey for the ship thing? :3

Of course! Thank you so much for asking! :)

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

-Casey met John when she went in to work a shift at the Spread Eagle one night. He had been sending offers to buy her family’s house to her mother, who has early onset Alzheimers, and eventually started sending men over when he didn't get a response. He - unintentionally - scared Casey's mother to death and it pissed. Her. Off. So, when Mary-May told her who he was, Casey walked over to him and made sure he knew he and his men were entirely unwelcome at their house.

What was their first impression of each other?

-Casey thought John was a cocky jackass. John thought Casey was attractive, but also bold, stubborn, and even a bit naive.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

-Yes and no. None of Casey's friends in the Resistance wanted them to get together. They knew that the two of them had had some weird fling before everything went to shit, but they all assumed Casey had put it behind her after Joseph's arrest. Jacob was against their relationship from the beginning. He didn’t want John and Casey involved in something that would end up in them both getting hurt. It would piss him off and break Joanna's heart. Joseph was a little too eager for Casey and John to get together. He knew there was something special about this new Deputy, and after his vision about John's death he was absolutely on board with his little brother being with someone who could love him and teach him how to love. Joanna didn't know anything about their relationship until Casey told her after the Reaping had started, and she was too shocked to really have an opinion.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

-John. He felt the first pull of attraction when she yelled at him in the Spread Eagle, and at first he just wanted to sleep with her. It's not until they get to know each other better that he realizes he may be feeling something more.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

-Casey does, because she has so many hang-ups about relationships in the first place, but also because of how complicated their relationship becomes after she tries to arrest his brother. She knows he's doing horrible things and that she shouldn't feel the way she does about him, but she also can't help it, either. John wants them to be together from the first instant Casey hints she may like him more than she originally let on, and he's very persistent about it.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

-Casey would probably groan and complain about how of course her soulmate would be the greasiest, cockiest bastard to ever set foot in Montana. "He's probably grinning about it right now. Smug son of a bitch." John would probably be more accepting. He would probably be more intrigued at the fact he has a soulmate in the first place than who it is. The Duncan's told him he was too full of sin for God to ever give him something as sacred as a soulmate, so he's certainly not going to let her slip away now.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

-I would say John, because he initiated all of their flirting, but Casey's the one who finally caves and says "okay yeah let's do this". They weren't public about their relationship, it mainly consisted of Casey spending nights and weekends at John's ranch and the two of them meeting in town by "coincidence" and having lunch or dinner together. Casey knows how quickly gossip in a small town spreads, and if their relationship didn't work out she didn't want there to be too much talk about how or why it ended. For the most part their relationship went pretty well. Casey was impressed with how easily John handled all of her shit, and when he stuck around she found herself opening up to him more and more. They had a bit of a falling out when she decided to leave for training so she could apply to the Sheriff's Department, and when she comes back and sees what Eden's Gate has done to the county, she knows for sure there's no way they can just pick up where they left off.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

-They don't technically have an "official" first date. John kind of corners Casey at the Spread Eagle one night -- she's not working, just hanging out -- and buys her dinner and a drink. It's the first night where they both sort of let their guard down and just talk.

What was their first kiss like?

-Intense, a little sloppy, and unexpected. It's during the Testy Festy and there's music playing, and Casey may have had one bourbon too many when she spots John trying to make his way through the mayhem. So she drags him over to dance. It's in the midst of trying to get John to actually dance with her that she realizes how blue his eyes are and hey, ya know what, he's actually really attractive, and she just... goes for it. It's a lot of pent up attraction mixed with alcohol.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)? 

-I feel like Casey is probably John's first love. I don't think he ever dated when he was in high school, the Duncan's probably strongly discouraged anything that could possibly lead to sin, and after they died he never really wanted a relationship. Just fling after fling to try and fill the void. Casey is the first person he ever takes the time to get to know, and let's get to know him, outside of his brothers.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

-Casey is about 5'6", John is around 5'10", and there's a six year age gap between them (Casey is 27 and John is 32).

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

-John never really gets to know Casey's mother that well, and she probably wouldn't remember him if he tried. He has a strained relationship with Joanna. Since Jacob and Joseph have both talked about her a lot, he knows she took care of him and his brothers when they were little, but he was too young to remember any of that. All he knows is that to him, at least, she's a stranger. And she's a stranger who is trying to get too close, too fast.

Casey finds Joseph creepy, and has little desire to get to know him any better than she already does -- no matter what Joanna and John tell her. At first, she has a mutual respect for Jacob. She's not crazy about him and they've never had a conversation long enough for her to form a solid opinion, but he cares about Joanna and that means a lot to her. After she's spent some time going through his trials, though, it's a different story. She hates how smug and superior he sounds, and she'd love nothing better than to punch him in his stupid ginger face. As for Faith, Casey likes her most out of all of John's siblings. Maybe it's the fact they're not really related.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

-John, but Casey doesn't mind. She'd rather not deal with it in the first place, and he's a naturally social person, so it works out.

Who gets jealous easier?

-This would have to be John, again. Like I said, Casey is the first person outside of his brothers that he's willingly let get close. When he sees her with other people he gets scared she'll find someone else and he'll get left behind.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

-John did. It's after Joseph's arrest and Casey goes to his ranch to tell him off, and as he's trying to convince her to stay it just slips out.

What are their primary love languages?

-John: Physical touch, words of affirmation, receiving gifts -Casey: Words of affirmation, acts of service, quality time

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

-They don't cuddle very often because Casey just can't sit still long enough. She also isn't big on physical touch, which is one of John's top three love languages and a source of many arguments discussions. She’s not totally against touch ever, just not all the time. However, if she's had enough to drink or she's just in the mood, Casey has no problem with a little PDA. Especially after everyone finds out they're together, she has a habit of just grabbing John and kissing him wherever they are if she's feeling it. John doesn't complain, but other people do.

What are their favorite things to do together?

-They love to spend time in John's hangar, music playing in the background, Casey working on her bike and John working on his plane. They'll spend hours in there just talking.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

-Neither of them are very good at comforting people, but they both make an effort to be there when they know the other is having a particularly hard day. Casey tends to ramble and stroke John's hair/hug him in order to distract him, and John will sit and listen while Casey vents about whatever is bothering her.

Who’s more protective?

-I'd say they're pretty equal. Neither of them have a problem with acting on their emotions (John is more calculated but still prone to emotional outbursts as we've seen) and if they think the other is in physical danger, or even being disrespected, they're quick to step in.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

-Casey prefers verbal affection while John prefers physical. They try and make sure the other feels wanted and loved regardless, but sometimes it's hard when John wants to cuddle and Casey just wants to talk.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

-I also have a playlist for them as well, so I'll try and stick to my top five songs from their playlist:

No Light, No Light by Florence + the Machine

Bitter Water by The Oh Hellos

It Will Come Back by Hozier

War of Hearts by Ruelle

Take Me to Church by Hozier

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

-John uses the typical ones "My dear" and "Darling", but Casey doesn't really use nicknames. She might say "babe" or something, but she'll usually just call John by name.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?

-John proposes in the bunker. They didn't have much in the way of rings, but after dinner in their room one night he just got down on one knee and asked her.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

-I don't even know if it could be considered a wedding, really. More a celebration with a very, very small ceremony. They have Joseph marry them, and Jacob, Joanna, and Faith are in attendance, but that's it.

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

-They have one daughter named after Casey's mother, Marian "Mari" Seed. She's a bit of a spitfire and a daredevil like her mother, much to John's dismay, but she's more calculated about her actions, like John. Which, honestly, probably makes her stunts more dangerous than Casey's.

Do they have any pets?

-Pre-collapse Casey counted Boomer as hers. Post-collapse she just sort of feeds and takes care of whatever friendly animals come to their house, which drives John up the wall. He's not really a pet person.

Who’s the stricter parent?

-John, but only by a hair. It's mostly because he's trying to keep Mari from getting hurt or killing herself, and Casey's busy cheering on whatever stunt her daughter has come up with from the sideline. Any other time it's usually Casey.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

-Both of them, neither are really bothered by bugs.

How do they celebrate holidays?

-I'm just going to assume the rest of these will be happening post-collapse, so they celebrate as well as they can. Casey tries to scrounge together decorations, because holidays are important to her and John's never really had good experiences with holidays, and now they have Mari to think about. She does her best, with Joanna's help, to make every holiday at least a little fun.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

-John. He's not the type to sleep until noon, but Casey gets up too early in his opinion. Sometimes he just wants to lay in bed for a while and hold his wife, but it takes an awful lot of coaxing to do so.

Who’s the better cook?

-John, again. Not that Casey can't cook, John just happens to be better at it. She's more than willing to let him take the reigns, though.

[trvelyans-archive]

There’s a woman at the end of the bar who won’t stop staring at Arthur.

At first, he thought maybe Colm sent her, but she doesn’t look like his type of woman. She’s a little too American for that bastard’s tastes. Then Arthur thought that maybe the bartender called her over to keep an eye on him, which he couldn’t blame the man for, really, considering the trouble he’s caused here lately. But it doesn’t seem like she’s watchin’ him for either of those reasons, really. If she was, she probably woulda made some sort of move sooner. She’s just… sittin’ there, with her eyes trained on him like he’s a Goddamn Christmas hog she’s gonna shoot and cook for dinner.

She’s pretty, too. He doesn’t much like that.

He downs his finger of whiskey with his left hand, his right hovering against the gun in his holster. (It’s a new one – pulled it off the body of some O’Driscoll he shot dead in the middle of the Heartlands the other night.) Not that he thinks she’s gonna shoot his head off, mind you, but it never hurts to be prepared around these parts, especially when he’s a couple of drinks into his evening already. It’s not doin’ much to help his pounding headache – being around that jackass Micah Bell for too long would do that to a man – but he’d rather sit here by his lonesome and wallow in his pain for a little while than be back at camp arguing with Dutch about… well, he’s sure they’d find something.

Seems all they do nowadays is argue. Or talk in a way that makes them feel like they’re not arguing when they really are.

He lowers his face to the tabletop, examining the cigarette cards he’s laid out to take a good look at, but out of the corner of his eye he can still see that woman watching him. She looks about twenty-five – might look older if he saw her in the sun when he was sober – and she has warm brown hair pulled into two braids on either side of her head, messy like she’d done them herself without a mirror (which he knows very well to be difficult, because Mary-Beth complains about it often when she begs Arthur to let her use his). She’s pale, too, with a face full of freckles and a handful of moles, and she’s got dark eyes like bullet holes, still pointed in his direction.

When she raises her arm, he half expects to hear a gunshot ring through the air, but she just gestures her cup towards him and takes a sip.

That’s when he realizes he’s been lookin’ too long, and perhaps that he’s drunk much more than he thought he did.

Unfortunately for him, even after shaking his head and forcing his attention back to the cards on the table, it’s only a couple seconds ‘til the seat across from him is pulled out and the woman sits down across from him. “Thought maybe you didn’t see me,” she says, placing her cup – empty – in front of his cards.

“Hard not to,” he replies, forcing himself not to meet her eyes. “Can’t quite ignore you when you’ve spent the past hour starin’ at me.”

“So you noticed.” She smiles. “Why didn’t’cha come up and say anythin’?” she asks, leaning forward to make sure he can see her.

He does lift his head up at that, though. “I, uh… didn’t think that’s what you’d wanted,” he replies, clearing his throat and reaching forward to grab one of the cards between two of his fingers, flipping it over to take a look at the writing on the back. “Thought maybe you were just waitin’ for me to cause some trouble and kick me out, and I didn’t intend on causin’ any sort of trouble tonight.”

“Mmm�� A shame, that.”

He holds the card up higher, hoping it might hide some of the newfound heat rising on his cheeks.

“I’m Mabel.” She holds her right hand out to him from across the table, forcing him to put the card down so he can see her still smiling the same darlin’ smile. “Mabel Olsen. And your name is…”

“Arthur,” he replies before he can think better of it. “Arthur Morgan.”

“Arthur Morgan.” She clicks her tongue against the top of her teeth like she’s tasting the sound of his name in her mouth. “I like it.”

“Well, thank you,” he replies. “Can’t quite take all the credit for it, though.”

She laughs, leaning back in her chair and glancing around the room. Up close she looks just about the same as she did from the bar, but now he notices a couple of scars littered across her hands and shoulders, and her voice sounds much deeper than he thought it would. So she’s definitely older than twenty – twenty-five still seems like a good guess.

She’s definitely not as old as he is.

“What’re you doin’ in town tonight, Arthur Morgan?”

Hopefully nothing, he wants to say. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks, after all – months, even, when he thinks about it. First, having to ride out of Blackwater with the whole gang after the ferry job went wrong, then hidin’ out in the mountains and freezing half to death every night, and now, after meeting those jackasses Milton and what’s-his-name when he was out with fishing with Jack last week, it seems like Arthur can’t quite catch a break at all nowadays without someone shooting at him or yelling at him to clean up someone else’s mess every hour or so.

He can’t tell her any of that, though. He doesn’t want to scare her off, even if she is interrupting his carefully made plans for a boring evening. Might be nice to keep her around and talk to her for a little while.

So, instead, he flattens one of his hands against the table, fiddling with his belt buckle underneath the table with the other. “Drinkin’,” he replies. “Lookin’ at these. You?”

“Drinkin’,” she responded. “Lookin’ at you.”

He’s lucky he finished his last drink before she came over. If he had been drinking when she said that, he would’ve choked on his whiskey. Even now, he just about chokes on thin air.

“What’s so special about these?” she questions suddenly, pushing herself up from her chair and bracing one of her arms against the table to lean on it. “Aren’t these just cigarette cards?”

“Well, yes, but…” He clears his throat, scrubbing a hand against his beard. “I like collectin’ them, I guess.”

She doesn’t say anything for a couple seconds. When she does, her voice is much quieter. “Used to know someone who liked collectin’ ‘em, too.” And then she smiles at him again. “He liked the famous gunslinger ones, though he couldn’t’a been less of a gunslinger himself if he tried. Which ones do you like?”

Arthur thinks about it for a moment. “I like the ones with all the animals on them,” he says, grabbing one and pushing it towards her. “And the horses.”

“The horses,” she repeats, then cocks her head at him and squints like she’s giving him a thorough inspections. “Are you a cowboy, Arthur Morgan?”

“You could say that,” he responds, finally smiling back at her.

“Do you collect anything else?”

He inhales deeply, pursing his lips as he thinks. “Don’t know if I mean to so much as I end up doing it accidentally,” he answers. His bag is full of little bits and pieces of things he picks up – feels like he can’t walk two steps without finding something that catches his eye. “But sure, I collect plenty of things. And I have a journal, too.”

He didn’t mean to say that – he normally doesn’t like to talk about his journal with people, because then they always ask to see it, and it’s much more boring and personal than they think it’s going to be if he does show them or they get offended when he doesn’t. “A journal,” she echoes. “’s funny. You look like some rough-and-tumble outlaw, but you got a soft side to you. I can tell already, if you collectin’ cigarette cards and writin’ in a journal wasn’t enough.”

“I guess,” he grumbles good-naturedly, lowering his head to look at his cards again. “Do you collect anything, Miss Olsen?”

She laughs. “Oh, don’t call me that, Arthur,” she says. “My mother would never stop rollin’ in her grave if you did. Mabel is fine. And no, I don’t. Don’t see much point in it.”

“Guess that’s true.”

“Might change my mind now, though.”

He clears his throat and forces himself to look around, to look at anywhere that isn’t her smiling face.

The bar is nowhere near full, even at this time of night in this nice weather. (Though maybe that’s why – some of the folk in Valentine might be out enjoyin’ it.) Mabel’s old seat near the bartender is still empty. She could go back to it, if she wanted to, or move to a table to talk to someone else, but she doesn’t. Instead she keeps sitting across from him, watching him, running a finger around the rim of her glass with the tip of her tongue sticking out between her bared teeth, like a wolf waiting to pounce.

“So what made you come over here?” he asks eventually, letting himself look at her again.

She shrugs. “Thought you looked interestin’,” she answers, “and you certainly are. Although I like just about any man that doesn’t offer to fuck me before he even buys me a God damn drink.”

Arthur clenches his jaw. He doesn’t know what to say to that, but now his mind is definitely beginning to fill with somewhat indecent thoughts he’d rather not dwell on.

“And I thought it’d be nice to talk to someone. Thought you’d actually want to talk to me.”

He frowns. “What’s that mean?”

She shrugs again. “Don’t quite know,” she says. “Just… thought we’d get along. Most people don’t like talkin’ to me after a little while, probably ‘cuz I like being a pain in the ass.”

He didn’t consider her to be a pain in the ass at all, and if there’s something that Arthur Morgan hates more than suckin’ snake venom out of another man’s leg and runnin’ out of bullets in the middle of a gunfight, it’s people – like God damn Micah Bell - who are a pain in the ass. So he chuckles, hopin’ it might make her feel better. “Believe me, I’ve talked to much worse.”

Mabel smiles back, to no surprise, but she seems to stiffen a little as he watches her. “Anyway, if you’re askin’ because you want me to leave you alone –“

“Hey, now, did I say that?”

That gives her pause. “No, I guess I just…” She purses her lips. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?” she finally says.

“Can’t much say the same for you,” he teases.

“Chicken shit.” She grins at him. “Now who’s being a pain in the ass? You stay here, file all your little cigarette cards away in your bag next to your... I dunno... hairbrush and mirror and hair pomade, and I’ll go get us some more drinks. You look like a whiskey man, Arthur. Are you a whiskey man?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Hang on, I can pay –“

Before he can finish, she pulls a heavy sack of what he assumes to be money from her bag and hefts it onto the table, where it lands with a loud thud. “Please,” she says, “let me.”

Arthur stares at it for a second and then looks up at her. “Maybe you are full of surprises.”

“Oh, I certainly am.” She stands up and rifles through the bag, completely ignoring the other patrons in the bar staring at them as she pulls a couple of bills from a stack. “Get a few more drinks in me and I’ll have even more surprises to show you, then.”

Before she heads off to the bar, she looks over her shoulder and gives him a playful wink that just about knocks the air out of his lungs, and all of a sudden Arthur is very, very glad that he isn’t going to have a boring night.

[randogirlo-fando]

Andante, Andante Part 3/?

Summary-Keg King Billy Hargrove becomes infatuated with Mike and Nancy’s cousin who is staying with them over the summer.

Warnings- swearing, mentions of sex, mentions of weed, eventual smut

Word count - 2.1k

“So you thought the best time to tell me you’re going on a date with that jackass was right before I leave for work wearing a stupid sailor costume? Really?” He frustratingly slaps the spatula down from making eggs on the unheated stove and put his face in his hands making you roll your eyes.

“Steve it’s one date, how else was I supposed to get him to leave me alone? I’m trying to not get Hopper called on me because I punched someone....AGAIN!” He turns to you trying so hard not to laugh.

“I’m sorry, did you get in trouble last time? NO! He brought you to the station and gave you a high five for sticking up for yourself.” You look back at your memory of punching Tommy and giggle a little.

“Okay, so what if I go on one date!? I can make my own decisions and I already told him I don’t kiss or fuck on the first date so maybe after this date he will get bored and leave me alone.” He sighs and hugs you, laying his head on yours.

“Promise me you call me if he touches you?” You nod the best you can and he pulls away to look at you.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t tell Dustin.” The solemn nod you give back to him makes him smile before realizing the time.

“Shit I gotta get to work! Grab your stuff I’ll take you home.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you in the car.”

“I’m home!” Your voice echoes through the house while you close the door behind you. As you enter the basement the phone rings, grabbing your attention. You take the phone in your hands and bring it to your ear.

“Wheeler residence, (Y/n) speaking.”

“Hey Cherry, can you be ready in an hour?”

“Ah Hargrove, what makes you think I take any longer than an hour to put myself together?”

“Well I don’t know, do you have to practice your snarky comments ahead of time or something?” The rhetorical question brings a smirk to your face as you roll your eyes.

“Babe I could practically feel that eye roll. Are you free to be picked up in an hour or not?”

“I’m free. Hey, where’s the kids? They aren’t here at the Wheeler house.”

“They’re at that kid Will’s house. And I just left my morning shift at the pool, that’s where your hot aunt is with the little one.” You gag into the phone.

“If you call my aunt hot again today I will tuck and roll out of your car.” He chuckles.

“Fair enough. See you soon Cherry.”

“Whatever Hargrove just don’t be late or I won’t answer the door.” You end the call and walk over to your suitcase to find clothes.

“Hey (Y/n/n), what are you doing?” The voice behind you makes you jump. You turn around to see Nancy and Johnathan laughing.

“Shit, y’all are stealthy.” Once you calm your heart down you look back at your suitcase.

“I have plans today and I’m trying to find a good outfit.”

“What are the plans?” Nancy walks forward to look in your suitcase.

“I mean it’s technically a date but I also don’t count it as one.”

“Woahh already? I knew you were a guy magnet but you’ve been here for 3 days.” Johnathan stands there awkwardly while Nancy giggles at her joke.

“Well I only agreed to it so they would stop asking.”

“Wait, so it’s not Steve?” You look up into Nancy’s eyes and your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“What? No. Why would I be going on a date with Steve?”

“Because you guys are clearly going to end up together. I mean he’s been in love with you since you left.”

“Nancy since I’ve left he became the school king and dated you, my cousin. I doubt he’s in love with me. Besides, he even knows about this. We had a sleepover last night.” A small sigh escapes her lips as she continues rummaging.

“All I’m saying is who could you possibly be going on a date with when Steve is right there in plain sight.”

“I honestly don’t think you want to know...” she freezes in place before slowly looking up at you.

“You don’t mean...?” You clear your throat and ignore her shock.

“(Y/n/n) don’t tell us you’re going on a date with that asshole.” Johnathan butts in, scoffing at the silence.

“Okay I’m leaving, Nancy I’ll see you later.” He kisses her cheek and pats your shoulder before going up the stairs.

“I only said yes so he would get off my case. He will be here in like forty minutes.”

“Be careful, he doesn’t treat girls nicely.”

“Oh trust me I already know.”

“Here put this on.” She lifts up a yellow and white striped tank with some baggy blue jean shorts and throws them at you.

“I’m going to be in my room to do your hair when you’re ready.” You smile at her while she goes towards the door.

After you changed and did your hair and makeup, making sure to wear your signature red lipstick, you sit on the kitchen counter talking to Nancy.

“He should be here any minute. He’s got 5 minutes or I’m locking the door on him.” You two giggle before hearing a knock on the door.

You jump off the counter and open the door to Billy leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey Cherry, you’re looking...good.” He compliments, making sure to obviously check you out.

“Eyes up here Hargrove, lets get going. Bye Nance!”

“Bye (y/n/n)!” You close the door behind you and make your way to the passenger side of the blue camaro and climb in.

“So Hargrove, where are you taking me?” He starts the engine and smirks at you before pulling out of the driveway.

“Well for starters, the mall. Thought we could get some food and go to a movie.”

“What movie?”

“Hellhole”

“Oh so your plan is a horror movie so I’ll get scared and you can be my knight and shining armor? Hate to break it to ya but I’m not scared of horror movies.”

“Oh really? How much you wanna bet you’ll be in my arms by the end of the movie?”

“If I win, you have to buy me something at the mall.”

“And if I win you have to go on a second date with me.”

“Deal Hargrove.”

“Two for Hellhole.”

“That’ll be $10” Billy pays for the tickets before getting you a large bowl of popcorn and Pepsi.

“Right this way Cherry.” He guides you with his hand on your lower back into the theatre and to the very back seats.

“My rule isn’t going to change Hargrove. Just because we’re in the back doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you do anything.”

“Yeah yeah just pass the Pepsi will ya?” You hand him the drink and the room goes dark.

“I can’t believe you weren’t scared.” You giggle at him and smirk as you walk to the food court.

“I told you, I’m a horror movie fanatic. Now you have to buy me something pretty.” He rolls his eyes playfully and then you see Steve working. Billy drags you to the ice cream parlor by the hand, holding onto it so you won’t let go.

“Well if it isn’t Harrington. How’s the sailor thing working out for ya?”

“Billy piss off I’m working.”

“Now now Harrington. I’m a customer, which do you want Cherry?” You roll your eyes and smile at Steve.

“Your favorite?” He asks, making Billy clench his jaw. You nod and pull your hand out of Billy’s grip.

“That’ll be $2.67” Billy puts the money on the counter and watches while Steve gets you your chocolate cherry swirl. He hands it to you and winks before putting the money in the register and giving change.

“C’mon Billy lets go sit down.” You walk away and sit at a table, Billy close behind.

“Did you just ask me out to make Steve jealous?” You’re face is unreadable to Billy while he scoffs.

“Not entirely.” You sigh and lick your ice cream.

“You’re a dick you know.” He stays silent until an idea pops in your head.

“He already knew about this date, you know. I stayed at his house last night.” His jaw clenches again as he watches you lick your ice cream.

“His parents weren’t home because of a vacation. It was nice hanging out with him. Like old times.” You realize he’s watching you and take one long lick on your ice cream to stir him on more.

“Of course I didn’t have any sleep clothes though since we went straight to his after the pool so I had to wear his shirt and sweats while we slept.” You’re halfway through your ice cream before Billy takes it from you and throws it away.

“That’s enough of that. Let’s go get you something pretty like I promised.” He pulls you up and drags you into Lovelace Lingerie.

“Are you crazy!? I’m not having you buy my underwear. We’re going into The Gap.” You drag him into the store and start looking around.

After a bit, you find a baggy black mesh dress and fall in love.

“Billy I want this.” He looks at the price and huffs.

“Okay let’s get it.”

“Hey Billy?” His concentration leaves the road for a split second to acknowledge you.

“Yeah what’s up” a huff leaves your lips before tapping the car door.

“I’ve actually had a fun time today. You know, you’re not a total dick when it’s just us two?”

You hear him chuckle before hearing the clicking of a lighter while at a red light. You watch him take a puff and he catches you staring, causing him to smirk.

“Want a hit, Cherry?” He offers the cigarette to you and you hesitantly take it from in between his fingers, your fingers brushing against his. He watches as you place it between your lips, inhaling the contents before coughing and handing it back.

“Guessing you’re not much of a smoker?” The light turns green and he puts his attention back to the road.

“I only really do it when I’m stressed. Now that schools over I’m not as stressed. It was also usually blunts, not nicotine.”

“So the southern belle has a bite to her. I mean I could tell you were feisty but pot? We should smoke together some time.” You smile at him and nod.

“I mean if you have a dealer here then totally.” Silence swallows you until you realize you past the turn to the Wheeler house.

“What, are you about to pull a Ted Bundy on me?” That joke made a genuine laugh come from him for the first time and it makes you proud.

“No, I just thought you’d want to come with me to pick Max up from the Byer’s.”

“Oh shit, that might not be a good idea. Chances are Dustin’s there, and you have no idea how pissed he would be to see me in your car.” He senses the tone of worry in your voice and genuinely feels concerned.

“I know they don’t like me but shit it’s that bad that you didn’t even tell them we had a date?”

“The only people that know are Steve, Nancy, and Johnathan.” He chuckles before making a U-turn.

The drive to the Wheeler house didn’t take longer than just a few short minutes. You both silently wished it was longer but before you could make up a reason to stay out with him, he pulled into the driveway. The car stops and he catches you staring blankly at him.

“Well, this was fun Cherry. Guess now I gotta leave you alone?”

“Well I may give you a second date, who knows. Maybe you can even take me out this week.”

“So I should call you?” You lean closer to his face, a genuine smile with a tone of snark on yours.

“You betcha...” you look down at his lips before closing your eyes, slowly leaning in meet him. The kiss lasts a minute, just slowly moving along his while he holds your cheek. You pull away and keep your eyes closed afterwards.

“What happened to no kissing on the first date?” You open your eyes slowly to the shit eating grin on his face.

“Maybe I couldn’t wait.” You give him a wink before opening the car door and stepping out.

“Don’t forget to call me this week.” You blow him a kiss and close the car door. He watches as you enter the house before driving off, the smile not leaving his face.

A/n- hey again I’m so sorry it takes me so long to post, a lots been going on.

TAGLIST

@dreamwavej

@keiko0

@starkerismysexuality

@xxemoluverxx

@savagesuccubus

@miskwaadesiwag

@phillyharleyquinn

@supermassiveblackhope

[stoopsbookstore]

The Wolf (Chapter 4)

Warnings - Vomit, Attack on two characters, Death, A single gunshot

“The Alpha?! What do you mean the Alpha? I’m the Alpha.”

Taeyong watched the guardian pace around the room, her robe swishing in her haste, Yuta throwing up onto the floor. The guardian searched for a book, her silence freaking Taeyong out. She spotted the bounded papers in a dusty corner of a shelf that hadn’t been touched in centuries. The covered lady signaled for Taeyong to come over to the table in the middle of the room.

“You may be the Alpha of your clan, but you are just a bunch of misfit wolves, thrown aside when your pack thought you were good for nothing, horrible ner-do-wells. This is the Alpha of the Indigo pack,” she flipped the pages, “this book says he’ll be back if someone summons him. He will very difficult to kill, he can survive stabs and shots. You’ll need a rare form of wolfs bane and a special silver, but I will tell you more later. You two need to go back and move your pack as soon as possible.”

Taeyong thanked the lady, helping Yuta to his face before heading home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day at classes, Jisung and Y/N were inseparable, to the point where Y/N actually skipped her classes to wait outside her step-brother’s classes. In her English class, Yuta had noticed she wasn’t there, concerned about the girl.

“Yuta, what’s up?” Jaehyun nudged him, breaking out of his trance of looking at the empty seat.

“That girl I bumped into isn’t here.”

“Didn’t she give you her number?”

Yuta mentally punched himself, he completely forgot about that. He flipped through his notebook to find the small piece of paper, dialing the number into his phone and texting it.

is this Y/N? please tell me this is Y/N

Yes... who’s asking?

Its Yuta, the guy who bumped into you. Im sorry for just texting you, my life is a bit crazy right now lol

This is going to be insane but can we hang out??

Umm... yea, sure I guess. You know my step-brother Jisung right?

He’s your stepbrother?! oh wow... he’s a really good kid

so that means Mr. Shindong is your stepfather

yea. Do you think you can get me the notes for today? 

Im also having a bit of a crazy life, I had to skip to watch Jisung

Cant get them from Mr. Shindong?

No, because it would possibly show favoritism if someone called foul 

Alright no problem are you busy tonight i could bring them over and we can hang out then

That would actually be perfect, you have no idea

cool, ill see you then. I have to go, cant get in trouble or else Mr. Shindong will get mad at me see you later tonight :)

Y/N looked up from her phone, Jisung in front of her holding a bunny in a cage. The bunny was asleep, the boyish smile emitting from Jisung was contagious enough that anyone who walked by would smile along with him.

“Jisung, what the hell is that?”

“‘I’m in charge of watching the class pet this week,” Jisung announced, “I figured it would be a great distraction from everything that’s been going on. His name is Bambi.”

“Your class realizes that Bambi was the deer and Thumper was the rabbit, right?” Y/N stood up, throwing her bag over her shoulder and walking with her step-brother, “since you had a surprise, I have one. Yuta’s coming over tonight.”

“Really? Why?”

“There is a chance we may be mates and we’re just going to see if it’s true. You have to remember, just because you’re three quarters of a wolf, I’m only a fourth. I don’t get any signals to who my mate is, I just have to try according to my mom.”

“Our mom.”

“Yes, our mom.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N! Your friend’s here! Just one moment.”

Leann stood at the door, Yuta holding his hands behind his back, waiting for his classmate to greet him.

“You must be the Yuta Y/N talked about.”

“Did she tell you?”

“Yes. My mother was a part of the Indigo clan so I knew it was just a matter of time before this would start happening. Are you and your friends okay?”

Yuta realized she must not have known that Jisung was taken into the pack, assuming Shindong tried to suppress the wolf urge, “yeah, we’re fine. It’s a bit hard to keep track of all of us, but we’re managing to stay in touch, calls every morning and night to make sure we made it.”

“That’s goo-”

“Yuta, hey,” Y/N appeared in the hallway leading to the door, “thanks Mom.”

Leann walked away, Y/N shutting the door behind her, leaving the two on the ornate porch.

“Mr. Shindong, I guess, doesn’t want me inside?”

“Even though he’s half wolf himself, he doesn’t want to possibly attract the Indigo clan.”

“He’s half wol-”

“His mom. He doesn’t like to talk about it, he only told me because of the poten-”

“Potential of us being mates?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, Yuta looking at the ground, feeling uneasy. The breeze flowing between them cool, the night starting to darken the sky. They didn’t see Leann, Shindong and Jisung sitting at the window, watching the uneasy interaction.

“Should we go for a walk?” Yuta suggested.

“I’d like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yuta and Y/N ended up walking through the nature park about 2 streets down from Y/N’s house, the pair avoiding talking about the possible relationship. They had only been classmates, just realizing they could be soulmates was an extreme jump to make. Yuta was the first to say anything, his attempt to ease the elephant in the room.

“My jackass of a friend, Ten, said if we were mates, he’d be sad because he thought you were really pretty.”

Y/N hid her laughter in her sweatshirt sleeve, “I thought he was dating Sorn or Lisa?”

“If by dating, you mean hooking up with them. He’s actually found his mate, that girl from Psych 221, fuck what’s her name? Umji?”

“Oh yeah, I know her. She’s a wolf?”

“Heads up,” Yuta leaned closer to Y/N for dramatic effects, “like 90 percent of this town is a wolf or has wolf blood in their veins.”

“Well, excuse me, I’ve only lived here for a year, I wasn’t expecting to find out all of this information. I figured I would get my degree, travel the world, have a few affairs and die in a sewer like Poe.”

Y/N and Yuta’s laughter was cut off by a growl, a pair of red eyes staring them down. Yuta’s ears popped out of his hair, the same grey from Y/N’s dream.

“Get behind me,” Y/N followed the boy’s instructions, his eyes turning into a vibrant green, his voice dropping into a husky roar, “You’re outside your bounds.”

The monster just kept stepping towards them, Y/N grabbing Yuta’s arm, another shock between the two seemed to make the wolf bark at them.

“Fuck! Run!”

The couple took off running, Yuta pulling Y/N with him as the outsider ran after them. They threw sticks and pinecones at it as often as they could, trying to keep the predator away from them.

“My house, it’s just up the street!” Y/N pointed to lit structure.

They ran up to the porch, the door opening to Jisung and Leann yelling at the two to come inside. Once they were in the safety of the mansion, Shindong came out from the dining room door, shooting the wolf point blank in the stout. Yuta shielded Y/N from looking at the bloodied canine, Leann pulling Jisung into the living room.

“You two, her room. Stay there.”

Shindong ordered them into Y/N’s room, Yuta walking up the steps behind Y/N, the stairwell quiet except for her stepfather’s grunts of struggling. Opening the door to her room, Yuta was surprised at how much it looked like a small apartment. A mini-fridge, a table, some counter space, a small living room and then through a half wall, her bedroom with a bay window.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“Would you like some tea?”

It was like the past hour didn’t help, Y/N went quiet, walking to the small kitchenette and putting some water in the teapot. Yuta reached out to Y/N, touching her arm and getting a small shock. He didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, but he knew the truth now. They were mates, and it seemed like she knew as well, aggressively turning on the oven top, a black cloud hanging out her head.

He engulfed in a hug as she began to sob, the weight on her shoulder crashing down and turning around in Yuta’s arms to cry. The wolf boy picked Y/N up like she was a piece of paper and walked her over to her bed. Yuta rubbed her back, her cries filling the room. Leann had walked in, noticing the teapot whistling, checking on the lovers, her heart breaking at the sight of her daughter in emotional distress.

After Leann left, Yuta tilted Y/N’s head, staring at her bloodshot eyes. They could feel the other’s emotion, Yuta felt pissed over the betrayal, Y/N felt anxious over the sudden changes. Yuta noticed Y/N had started to fall asleep, her breath stabilizing as he reached for the clicker on the nightstand. Turning on the TV, he kept repeating four words into Y/N’s ear, hoping that she’ll hear it in her sleep.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

[blackcoffeeandteardrops]

Finally got around to writing my post FFH fic. Family reunions, just the way I like it. Under the cut & also at the above link. 

The staccato beat of Pepper's heels hammering against the floor caused Peter's heartbeat to quicken as he slowly opened the door to the lake house.

"Listen, I have already been on hold for ten minutes. I don't care that he's in the middle of a meeting, go in there and get him out. I'm staying on the line until you do," Pepper said, clutching her phone to her ear, turning just as Peter made his way into the house. "Hi, Peter. You guys made the trip okay?"

Peter let out a shaky laugh. That she could go from demanding to motherly in the matter of seconds was slightly alarming, but considering the fact she genuinely was a mother, he guessed that probably shouldn't come as too much of a surprise. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, letting his suitcase fall to the floor with a thud. "Happy is out with Aunt May getting the rest of the bags from the car. Thank you, by the way, for--" the rest of the sentence dies on his lips as Pepper held up a finger, pointing to her phone and smiling apologetically before striding off into the kitchen, berating whoever was on the other end as she did so.

"And this is the last of them," Happy said, wheeling two suitcases in, looking about as he did so. The sound of Pepper raising her voice from the other room seemed to satisfy whatever question he'd had, so he focused back on Peter as May came in, closing the door behind them. "I'm not sure what rooms she has you two in, but--"

"I do!" Morgan exclaimed, quickly bounding down the stairs, all but tumbling into Peter's legs when she ran to greet them. "Mommy said you guys are coming for a sleepover! She even said we could have cheeseburgers for dinner, and we can eat on the couch! They usually don't let me do that, but mommy said it's a special oca…" she paused, fiddling with her sleeve and furrowing her brow as she tried mastering the more complex word. "Occasion," she declared, grinning proudly, oblivious in the way only a child can be of the chaos that had brought them there. "Plus, it'll be even cooler when you find out--"

"Morgan, sweetheart, why don't you help me set up dinner, hmm?" Happy chimed, gently nudging the girl towards the living room as he removed the sack of burgers from where he'd carried it at his side.

Peter frowned, as if he was missing something, but before he got the chance to dissect it any further, Pepper strode back in the room, nodding at May in greeting. "I've spoken to the lawyers, who are drafting a cease and desist as we speak. We also have a team digging into how and why the Daily Bugle got that video in the first place. It doesn't cover all our bases, but it's a start."

"What about the other sources that have picked up the story since the video was plastered over every screen in the city? You can't unring a bell, and Peter can't exactly hide here forever," May said trying to be a voice of reason, only to have Peter cry out in frustration beside her.

"Peter is standing right here! Is--is it even safe to be here? Safe for you and Morgan, I mean. I don't want anybody to be at risk because of me," he replied, anxiety bubbling in his gut. The scent of the burgers wafted over and it was nearly enough to knock him over. Within minutes of the video playing the first time, Happy had somehow tracked him down, driven MJ home, and then gone to the apartment to where Aunt May was already halfway through packing their things. He hadn't had a chance to even think about food until that moment.

"Here is essentially the safest and most secure place you could ever be. Besides, Peter, you're family. We want to help you as best we can," Pepper replied, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you something to eat. We'll worry about the rest later, okay?"

Peter nodded reluctantly, her use of the word "We" sticking out like a sore thumb in his mind. Pepper meant her and Morgan, of course, but it was moments like this that made him miss Tony more than ever. How Tony would react was something he'd caught his mind drifting to several times throughout the car ride to the lake house, and he couldn't help hoping his mentor turned pseudo-father would have been there to help him figure out what to do. Pepper's heart was in the right place, threatening legal action and offering him a place to stay until the dust settled, but Peter felt off kilter in a way he figured only Tony would understand. Sure, Tony had a hand in revealing his own superhero identity to the masses, he wasn't immediately labeled a villain or looked at in mock horror by his closest friends--the look of shock MJ had upon watching the video still burned in his mind--but he still badly wanted to have Tony's support. The fact he was gone weighed heavier on him, just as he looked up to see May and Pepper watching him expectantly. "What?"

"She asked if you wanted to eat," May supplied, eyes brimming with concern.

"Yeah. Totally," Peter replied, forcing himself to act positive when he caught Morgan glancing over at him. The last thing he wanted was having to make her worry about him, too. He sat on the couch, pointing to the bag as Morgan sat cross legged at the coffee table near his feet, ketchup staining the corners of her mouth. "You think there's a cheeseburger in there for me?" he asked, watching as she all but leaped into action, happy to help him and triumphantly pulling a foil wrapped burger from the sack. It was enough, at least for a few minutes, to sit among friends and eat food, while some Disney sequel he knew nothing about played in the background. He was lulled into a sense of safety, of warmth and protection he feared he'd never experience again, so much so that the sound of feet shuffling into the room behind them didn't even alarm him, despite the fact that everyone he knew to be present was already accounted for.

Three things happened almost at once. First, he realized there was another burger sitting wrapped on the table, though everyone had already eaten. Second, he saw Tony's jacket draped over the arm of the chair, as if he'd come right back for it. And third, he heard someone that sounded like but couldn't possibly be Tony, clearing his throat and speaking behind them.

"You guys seriously ate without me?"

“You’re supposed to me resting,” Pepper said, immediately jumping up from where she’d been sitting. “Besides, we talked about--”

Peter pressed his hands to his ears, squeezing his eyes shut tight, as if doing so would cause him to fade away from his current surroundings. It wasn’t possible, it wasn’t. He had to have slipped into an alternate reality somehow, or maybe he’d been trapped in one of Mysterio’s more elaborate schemes. He felt sure that if he were to turn around, Tony wouldn’t be standing behind him. He simply couldn’t.

“Oh, my God,” May said beside him. Distantly, he heard the sound of what he knew to be her glass hitting the floor. “But--”

“I know, we have some explaining to do. And we’d like to, but--”

“This isn’t real,” Peter said, willing himself to stand and turn to face the man he’d so badly wanted to see. Standing mere feet away with only the couch separating them was Tony, looking a bit worse for wear but nonetheless alive. “No, you couldn’t...you wouldn’t lie…”

“Hey, kid, I get it. You’re mad. I’d be mad, too. But I didn’t lie. I never--”

Peter started shaking his head, hot tears burning his eyes. Absently, he heard Pepper instruct Happy to take Morgan upstairs and help her get ready for bed. May was still sitting on the couch, clueless but somehow less angry than he was.

“Peter, honey, I’m sure there’s a valid reason. He’s been through a lot, we all have,” she said, trying and failing to be the voice of reason.

“I almost just died, again, trying to save everyone. You...you could have helped. You could’ve come--”

“And what? I’m only at about sixty percent my normal strength, with one real arm and one robotic one that still needs tinkering. I wouldn’t have been any good for you,” Tony replied, apologetic. For a moment, he thought he’d maybe gotten through. Peter rounded the couch, andTony turned, opening his arms, only for Peter to breeze right past him towards the door.

“I told you we shouldn’t rush him,” Pepper said, clinging to Tony’s good shoulder when he tried running after him. “He needs time.”

“And what? I’m just supposed to sit holed up in my room until I’m instructed to make my grand appearance?” he said, spinning to face her, all frustration fading when he saw the look on her face. “I’m sorry, Pep. But some jackass that tried to kill him just blasted his name all over the world so now everyone knows who Spiderman is, and now they’re going to paint him as a villain. And what’s more, this guy used to work for me. You can’t seriously think I’m going to stand idly by, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I know enough about you to know it’s taking about every ounce of strength you have to not go running after him right now. But what he needs right now is a chance to cool off, come to his senses. Once he realizes?” Pepper said, locking eyes with Tony and raising an eyebrow, hoping he understood.

“It’s a little crazy, he’s not biologically related to you, Tony,” May said, standing awkwardly from where she’d been sitting on the couch. “But he gets a lot of his behavior from you. It’s nice to know that you’re, uh…” she gestured vaguely between them before pointing towards the stairs. “I’m going to go see if Happy needs any help with Morgan.”

Pepper nodded, watching as May headed upstairs. “And I’m going to clean up and jump on another call. We need to stay on top of this thing,” she said, opening the front door just a crack in case she might get a glimpse of Peter. She paced back to Tony, cupping his cheek and leaning in to give him a kiss. “Give him a few minutes and then you can go check on him, okay?”

Tony leaned into her touch, holding her hand to his face and turning to plant a kiss against her palm. “I’ll do my best.”

Peter sat on the dock, his legs dangling over the edge. He’d walked around the property, getting more comfortable with the place he’d only been a few times, stopping to give Gerald some berries, before settling to stare out at the water. He didn’t actually intend to leave, just needed some time to think, but when he heard footsteps behind him, he tensed up ready to bolt.

“If you want me to leave, I will. Although, I mean, this is my house. I kind of come with the territory of you hiding out here,” Tony said, waiting a few seconds to see if Peter would run before settling in beside him. He watched as Peter tore fragments from a weed he’d picked, slowly tossing them into the water, not even bothering to look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Peter replied, dabbing at his eye with his sleeve.

Tony sighed, wishing it were easier. “No, it’s not. None of this is. There’s not a guide book for how to help your superhero kid get through having his identity revealed,” he said, glancing over to see if Peter would react. There was a hint of an uptick in his closed lips, but not much. “I hate what he did to you, but we’re going to fix it.”

“It wouldn’t have happened had you been there. You were just relaxing here, just living your life, not even bothering to tell me or anyone else that you weren’t, you know, dead. And I show up here because Pepper is nice enough to let us stay, and I’m just supposed to...what? Act like it’s normal? It’s not,” Peter said, slamming his fist onto the dock so hard it shook. “I gave him your glasses because I really thought he was a good man. I told him he was an Avenger, and he just sat there and lied to my face. My friends almost died because of--”

“Because of you? Believe me kid, I know the feeling,” Tony replied, laughing self deprecatingly. He shook his head, staring out at the reflection of the moon over the water. It seemed unthinkable, that everything be so calm despite all that had happened recently. “And for the record? Until recently, I wasn’t just here living my life, as you so nicely put it. This thing here?” he said, waggling the fingers on his artificial arm. “Wakandan tech. After the battle with Thanos, I was as good as dead. They took me to Wakanda where I was in a medically induced coma. Countless skin grafts, surgeries, and when I woke up? I was alive, but every inch of my body burned. It was like I was cooking from the inside. I might’ve been alive, but I didn’t want to be. Not for a long while. But when I was well enough to speak, to make sure I’d make it through? They flew Pepper down, and we stayed for a few more weeks. It took Morgan a while to get used to it, but she’s come around. Physical therapy, medication, and rest...it’s about all I can do.”

“It looks so real,” Peter replied, shaking his head as he watched Tony grip a therapy ball in what he now knew to be an artificial hand. “Miss Potts wasn’t angry when she found out you were alive?”

“Oh, she was livid. It’s still a point of contention. But she was more angry with the situation than with me,” Tony replied, tossing the ball in the air and catching it. He smiled triumphantly, waggling the ball in Peter’s direction. “It took me two weeks to learn how to do that.”

“To catch a ball?” Peter asked, doubtful.

“This may look real, and it’s wired into my body with the best neural interface I’ve ever seen...so good I’m jealous I didn’t create it myself. But yes, two weeks to catch a ball. At least twice that long to put any sort of pressure on it. Pepper can testify. Until recently, I haven’t been fun to be around,” Tony replied, watching as Peter nodded slowly. “Look, Pete,” he said, darting his tongue out to moisten his lips. “You really think I didn’t want to be there? You honestly think I was content just sitting idly by while one of my kids was in danger? It was terrifying. But it would’ve been worse had I gone and not been able to stop it. I’d never be able to forgive myself. I was monitoring the systems, watching...if there was ever any moment that I really doubted you’d be okay? I’d have put a stop to it,” he swore, giving it a few seconds to sink in. He expected Peter to jump in, lauding him with tales of what happened in his Europe trip, of how he’d fought, but was met only with silence. “Pete, I’m--”

“One of your kids?” Peter replied, his voice cracking.

“That’s what you picked up on in all that?” Tony replied. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. They’d not been very good with the whole emotional thing before the blip. He hadn’t communicated the way he thought of Peter as one of his own, but the way the boy’s eyes lit up at the implication made him realize that he wanted to try and be clearer with his line of thinking. “Well, yeah. You’re one of Tony Stark’s roaming band of misfits,” he replied, elbowing him in the side. “Seriously though, how are you holding up? It’s not every day your cover gets blown to the world.”

“At least you had a choice,” Peter replied, closing his eyes upon realizing how bitter he sounded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that--”

“That I didn’t have my cover blown by a psychotic maniac bent on revenge from beyond the grave? Yeah, I get it. Not quite the same,” Tony agreed. “Pep’s in there doing the best she can to keep this under control. It won’t be easy, and it’ll take some time, but we’ll get you there.”

Peter’s chest grew tight and he shook his head, struggling to keep his breathing calm. Were it not for his certainty that Tony would jump in after him, he’d kick off the dock and make himself sink, if for nothing other than feeling something other than the crushing weight of trying to make his new reality make sense. He dug his fingernail into his palm so tightly it began to bleed.

“Breathe,” Tony replied, rubbing small circles against his back. “In through your nose, out through your mouth,” he continued, gritting his teeth. That anyone would put someone he cared about through so much pain and him be at a relative loss to stop it was maddening, but the least he could do was try and help him through it. He watched as Peter’s breathing returned to normal, waiting until the boy appeared calm to keep speaking. “That’s not the first time that’s happened, is it?”

Peter hung his head, shrugging his shoulders, but surprisingly not feeling as embarrassed as he might've expected. "I haven't exactly been sleeping well since everybody came back," he conceded.

"I'm sorry, Pete," Tony replied, clapping his hand against the boy's shoulder. He watched as his lips twitched; a fraction of a smile, there and gone within a second. The image of Peter's body dissolving into ash and slipping through his fingers flickered across his vision. He'd spent more time mourning Peter it seemed like than actually knowing him, a fact he thought about not for the first time. "I shouldn't have drug you into this. I shouldn't have put you at risk, allowed you to participate in the Avengers. If I hadn't, none of this would've happened."

Peter started shaking his head before Tony even finished speaking. "I chose to jump on the ship. I mean, I didn't do it knowing I'd die...sort of...on some alien planet, but I still chose to do it."

"You did," Tony agreed.

"I was on a date," Peter said, the words popping out before he realized what he'd said. "Before the video where Mysterio told the world I was Spiderman. MJ and I were finally--"

"That friend of yours? You finally told her how you felt?" Tony asked, genuinely curious. Peter wasn't yelling at him anymore, and if he was still angry at him he was no longer showing it, so he considered it a step in the right direction. "Before...everything," he continued, gesturing wildly. "We were in the lab. You were up way, way past your bedtime, getting to that point where you were practically delirious, and you started talking about her. It's good, I'm happy for you."

"I'm not," Peter replied, gripping the edge of the deck and leaning forward. "The look on her face when that video played? I don't think she'll want to see me anymore. Besides, I don't want to put her in danger," he paused, cheeks burning red. "You've got enough to worry about right now, what with coming back from the dead and all," he continued, giving Tony a pointed look. "You don't wanna hear about what I'm going through."

"Whose idea do you think it was for you to come here? I'm kidding, it was Pepper's, but I backed her up one hundred percent. I wouldn't have done that if I didn't care about you," Tony insisted. He heard Peter let out a soft laugh and frowned in confusion. "What?"

Peter stared up at the pin prick stars, remembering vaguely what it felt like to hurtle through them. "We never used to talk like this."

Tony could count on his one hand the times he'd hugged Peter, and on the same hand the number of times they'd had such serious discussions, in non-life threatening situations. It wasn't intentional, a by-product of the facade he'd hid behind over the years. He hadn't had a good relationship with his own father, Lord knew, so it made sense that he'd struggle communication wise with the child he considered his own. Still, he vowed before bringing them all back that he'd do a better job at it. "No, we didn't," he replied. "But as it turns out, losing fifty percent of the world's population including the protege you love like a son, getting married to the smartest woman on the planet, and becoming a dad before nearly dying at the hands of an evil alien bent on destruction really changes your outlook on life."

"Pepper's the smartest woman on the planet?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Of course she is. She's going to figure out how to get you out of this mess," he replied, already picturing her pacing back and forth inside demanding answers from whoever she was on the phone with. He shifted a little, wincing as he felt a sharp pain radiate up his side. He held up his arm in Peter's direction. "Come on, kid. Help me up. Let's see what progress she's made so far."

"Are you okay? I mean, you survived despite the power of those stones literally coursing through you, and seriously, how real your fake arm looks is kind of weirding me out, but--" he cast his eyes downward at the look on Tony's face. "Sorry, I didn't mean--"

"No, it's okay," Tony assured him. "They had to take a piece of my calf muscle to help fix the side of my face. But hey, I'm officially part robot now, so I guess I've got that going for me."

Peter smiled, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. As they walked towards the house, he caught a glimpse of Tony's scars, some of them faint but still proof of all he'd gone through in the name of keeping the world safe. Before he could stop himself, Peter launched himself at Tony, wrapping his arms around his waist. "I'm really, really glad you're okay."

Tony had nearly lost his balance from the unexpected hug, but he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. He waited a few seconds before pulling back. "Me too, kid. And listen, about what you said before? About being afraid of whether MJ would want to see you anymore? If she feels half as much for you as you do for her, I think you're going to be fine."

Peter opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. There'd be time to talk things through--with Tony, with MJ, with Aunt May--but he knew not everything would be solved overnight. "Should we go inside?"

Tony nodded, leading the way. He listened quietly for the sound of Pepper's voice, wanting to seek her out and discuss what their next steps were in terms of figuring out Peter's life post-identity reveal. He knew it would take time and some not altogether pleasant decisions, and there was a part of him that wondered just how well he could help whilst still being declared dead to the world. Still, that night all the people he cared for most would be under one roof, causing him to feel more relaxed and to breathe easier than he had in a long time. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

[trash-the-tozier]

Dog Days (5/7)

Title: Dog Days

Length: ~36.6k words (6.3k for this part)

Summary: Richie Tozier is twenty years old, over halfway through a Chemistry degree at the University of Maine, and in love with his best friend and roommate, Stanley Uris. And he figures that it’s fine, with no cause for change, until he finds an injured puppy near his apartment.

Warnings: Explicit language, small amounts of smoking/drinking, mentions of animal abuse (the animal stuff is all about the injured puppy, it’s not like… a recurring theme or smthn, it’s a cute fic I promise)

Pairings: Stan/Richie, background Ben/Beverly

A/N: I know it's been forever, but I promise I'm going to post this whole fic. I've just been sick for like a month. Thank you all so much for supporting this story so far, I'm glad you're enjoying it! Extra warning for this chapter: a tiny amount of violence happens (1 punch is thrown) Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 also posted to ao3 here tagging: @80s-kaspbrak, @sunshinestanley, @tiny-tea (hmu if you want to be tagged!)

As Richie often did when he was in disbelief of his own stupidity, he called Beverly. She picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, jackass. What’s up?”

“How much does a hitman cost? You can order those over the dark web or something, right?”

“...Richie. What the fuck?”

“I need someone to take me out. End my existence.”

“Just go back to Derry. I'm sure Bowers would love to finish the job.”

The mention of their old tormentor brought things into perspective, at least a little bit, and Richie sighed.

“What happened?” Beverly asked. “What did you do?”

Richie didn't ask why Beverly had assumed it was himself that fucked something up.

“Do you want the long version, or the short version?” He asked, watching Mira sniff a perimeter around the dumpster.

“Short.” Beverly decided.

“I licked Stan’s face.”

“Richie!”

“There was context! I promise!” Richie regretted not grabbing Mira's leash, having to walk close behind her to keep her hidden behind the apartment building. “It… It made sense, sort of. And then I tried to play it off, but I don't think it went well.” He sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, the action interrupted as he had to bend over and pull a stick out of Mira's mouth instead.

“So what, you took something a little bit too far and now you're panicking?” Beverly asked. “That's what you called me about? Richie, it's fine.”

“No, Bev. You didn't see his face.” The complete shock, the stillness, the wide eyes. Had disgust been there too, or was he just imagining it? “And I have to work a shift with him this evening. Goddamnit.”

“Well…” Beverly had a grin in her voice, but there was also a devious edge to it that Richie recognized. “You could just own it and tell him the truth.”

“The truth?”

“You know. That you want actually want to lick every inch of his naked body.”

“Fuck you.” It was the only thing Richie could think to say, because his face was so red that he couldn't really breathe. He bent to pick Mira up, ready to carry her back up the stairs, and heard a voice in the background of the phone call.

“Um, Beverly? Who are you talking to?”

It was Ben, and he was understandably confused, with only his girlfriend's side of the conversation to listen to. Richie was suddenly put on speaker phone.

“Richie licked Stan.” Beverly reported.

“I… What?”

“It's nothing.” Richie said quickly. “Listen, are you guys free tonight?”

He opened the apartment door and set Mira down, where she rushed into the living room and tackled her rabbit toy, growling and wagging her tail.

“I've got to study for a test.” Ben said after a moment's thought. “I think that's it though.”

“Cool. Could you study over here?”

“Doubtful.”

“I won't be here.”

“Oh. Then yeah, probably. Why?”

“Stan and I both have work tonight, and I just don't want to leave Mira alone. Could you guys watch her for us? Just for a couple of hours.”

“Yeah!” Beverly said quickly. “We'll be right over. Sounds great.”

Richie noticed Ben's lack of agreement, but trusted their relationship enough to accept Beverly's answer for the both of them. After taking a deep breath, Richie called out to Stan, who he assumed was hiding away in his room.

“Ben and Beverly are coming over. They agreed to watch Mira.”

“Okay.” Stan's voice was a little quiet; Richie had to strain slightly to hear it. “You should get ready to go.”

A quick glance at the time told Richie that Stan was right. He changed into his work clothes, hearing Ben and Beverly enter just as he pulled his shirt over his head. He yanked it down as he rushed out to greet them, finding once he arrived that his haste was unnecessary; Stan was already in the living room with them.

“Uh… Hi.” He said dumbly. Silence hung awkwardly in the air, broken quickly by Beverly, who crouched down to coo at Mira. Richie could feel Stan looking at him, but he didn't look back.

“Am I crazy, or is she a ton bigger than she was when I first saw her?” Ben asked.

“She looks bigger than she was two days ago, when I met her.” Beverly said.

“Neither would surprise me.” Stan answered with a sigh. They walked the two of them through the simple matter of her feeding and medication, telling them to let her out every couple of hours because she wasn't house trained yet. They nodded, promising they could do it all, and after Richie made them swear to call him if anything happened, Richie and Stan got in Stan's car and went to work.

It was a short drive, the pizza place close enough for Richie to walk back and forth most of the time. Richie didn't want to chance any awkward silences, turning the radio on, the two of them listening to various commercials nearly the entire way there. Richie wondered if he was overreacting, if the avoidance was making it all worse, but whenever he decided to buck up and say something, he chickened out.

Work wasn't any better. He was able to be loud in front of his coworkers, grinning and cracking jokes that were borderline inappropriate, but Stan moved stiffly around him, and Richie couldn't help but react to him the same way. It was near midnight when their shift ended and it was time to go home, and Richie couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't have ruined everything, he told himself; he'd barely even done anything.

Stan pulled up to the apartment complex and put his car in park. He reached up to take the key from the ignition, but Richie's voice stopped him.

“Do you want me to apologize?”

“...what?” Stan looked over at him, confused by the lack of context, though he seemed a bit tense in the shoulders.

“What?” Richie asked back. “Have I been going crazy all day, or have things been weird?”

Stan was quiet for a moment. “Things have been weird.” He admitted.

“I mean... I just don't get it. I've done worse things than lick you before.”

“Yeah.” Stan gave a small laugh, but there wasn't much humor behind it. “I just wasn't expecting it, I guess.”

“Didn't expect it?” Richie asked. “When I promised that I would do it like five minutes beforehand?”

“I just didn't…” Stan trailed off, reaching up to turn his car off and take the key out of the ignition. The engine died, the air dark and quiet and still. “I didn't expect you to actually lick me.”

Richie would have assumed Stan was talking about the action as a whole, if not for the emphasis. The emphasis on lick. Meaning, if Richie’s smitten-swamped brain was right, Stan had expected something else.

“Would you rather I have kissed you?” He asked before he could stop himself. Stan didn’t answer, his eyes wide, and in a moment of tremendous stupidity Richie leaned over, past the gear shift and the empty cup holders on the center console, and kissed Stan on the lips.

It was short, just long enough to register the touch as something, just long enough to send a jolt of nerves up Richie’s chest, just long enough for him to realize just how incredibly terrible this idea had been. He jumped away, muttering out “there,” and escaping the car as fast as he could manage.

If everything hadn't been ruined before, it was now. But Ben and Beverly were up in the living room and Stan was probably coming up behind him, so he couldn't freak out just yet. He was very close to doing so, but as he opened the door and walked through, the sight he was met with did distract his mind.

His friends were on the couch, completely wrapped around each other. They heard Richie close the door and sprang apart like two teenagers caught doing something very indecent in a very public place.

“Well, hey.” Richie raised his eyebrows at Ben and Beverly's extremely red faces, hearing the door open and close again behind him. Stan. But before he could worry about that, he noticed something else. “Where's my dog?”

The living room and the kitchen were both empty.

“She was here a second ago.” Beverly protested, getting to her feet.

“Ben's hands were in your shirt a second ago.” Richie deadpanned, walking around the couch to get further into the room.

“Okay, a minute ago!” The blush hadn't faded from her face, and Ben hadn't even gotten up. Then they heard a familiar playful growl coming from Richie's room, along with a distinct ripping sound. To Richie's surprise Stan pushed past him, going into Richie's room first. They found Mira tearing into one of Richie's shirts, the piece of clothing all but destroyed. She was having the time of her life, Stan saying a very distinct and commanding “no,” and snatching the shirt up.

“Ignore her.” He told them all. “Not giving attention is the best way for a puppy to realize that she's done something wrong.”

“It's just a shirt, Stan.” Richie protested, because Mira, so excited about them being home, had begun leaping up on their legs and whining loudly, and Richie's self control was crumbling. “I don't mind.”

“Look at it.” Stan tossed the shirt to Richie. The neck hole and sleeves were still attached, but there was a huge hole that would expose a large majority of his chest if worn.

“Hey, it's not so bad.” Richie said. “Hashtag free the nipple, right?”

Stan glanced over at him, began to smile, and then began to laugh.

The shunning of Mira Tozier only lasted ten minutes, but in that time Ben and Beverly said their goodbyes, Richie thanking them for their pet sitting services. Then Stan retrieved Mira's chew toy, a rubbery blue bone, and offered it to her. When she took it in her mouth he praised her and petted her, the puppy flopping onto her back for tummy rubs.

“We need to teach her what she can and can't chew on.” Stan explained. “Some dogs will eat a chunk of their couch or something, and then it'll get stuck in some intestine, and they need surgery to get it taken out. We don't want that.”

“Oh.” Richie said. “Yeah. We don't.” It was hard not to stare at Stan, and Richie had to wonder what was happening. Stan was just sitting on the floor with the puppy, talking like everything was normal.

“I looked into it last night, stuff we might want to teach her.” Stan began, getting up to sit on the couch. He paused halfway through the motion, glancing cautiously at Richie. “I can sit down, right? Beverly and Ben, they weren't…”

He left the rest of the question to insinuation, and Richie laughed.

“It's fine! All clothes were on, and stuff.”

Gingerly, Stan sat. Richie busied himself with Mira on the floor, petting her little body all over as she crawled around his lap.

“Not to chew and bite inhibition seem like the most important ones to me.” Stan continued. “For her to only play with her toys, and not to play too rough. Along with making sure she's housebroken of course, but we're already working on that.”

Richie nodded a bit, feeling at a loss for words. His phone buzzed before he could think of something to say, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

From: Lavagirl I'm sorry Richie We did a good job watching her I SWEAR you just happened to walk in the one time we weren't giving her our complete attention

Richie had to laugh a bit. Stan gave him a curious look.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Oh, Bev’s just apologizing, that's all. As if I haven't seen Ben's tongue before.”

Stan laughed too, getting to his feet.

“I'm going to take a shower. Look around the kitchen for something we can have for dinner, would you? I'm really not in the mood for takeout.”

“Yeah, sure.” Richie watched as Stan walked off, still feeling slightly lost. That… That was it? They were pretending like nothing happened? Richie was relieved, sure, but he couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed, too.

To: Lavagirl It's fine! There aren't any accidents on the rug and she got her food and her meds, and that's all I really care about Though if you ever do get it on in our apartment just tell us what upholstery to wash

From: Lavagirl Oh my god shut up The whole evening was really domestic I promise That was part of the problem actually Ben was being really sweet and talking about a future and buying a house and I just

To: Lavagirl He was talking about mortgage and you got all hot and steamy? Y'all are so weird

From: Lavagirl Speaking of weird, are you alright? Something seemed off.

Nothing slipped past Beverly, apparently. Mira picked up her rabbit toy and ran over to him, Richie wrestling with her as he thought of a way to respond. Finally, he decided that if Stan was going to pretend everything was fine, then so would he.

To: Lavagirl Nah, I'm good. Maybe I just still had my customer service face on or something. Don't worry about me, Bev.

The next day, Richie had to go to class. Though it wasn't his first time being away from Mira, it almost felt that way. Stan sent him a few photos throughout the day of Mira playing or sleeping, one of the pictures even showing a training session, Mira sitting attentively, her eye transfixed on a treat Stan was holding that was just barely in the frame. While adorable, the pictures also made Richie want to go home all the more, and he wondered briefly if this was how parents felt about their children.

That night, curled up in bed with Mira's body splayed across his legs, Richie set up a Craigslist ad for her. He tried to make it as uninteresting as possible, leaving out any pictures and wording everything in a way that was short and to the point. He set the price as 'negotiable’ because truly, he didn't know, and ended up listing Stan’s phone as the number to send inquiries to. He knew that if he got any texts or calls from someone interested in taking Mira away, he wouldn't be able to stand it.

Over the next two weeks, Mira settled into their lives pretty well. Despite everything Richie had read online, she was taking to the training they were giving her. It wasn't really out of a desperation to please though, and more of a desperation for attention, Stan’s shunning method working rather well. Two more of Richie's shirts, along with two and a half pairs of shoes, were sacrificed before Mira's destructive habits were confined to just her toys, though they did still have to reprimand her for mouthing on things every once and awhile. Richie's attempts to get her to play nicer were going more slowly, but once he read up about the method behind it, Mira began getting gentler and gentler with her teeth.

Mira's training attitude seemed rather confined to Richie and Stan though, Stan being the main disciplinary force in the house. Unless they had a treat in hand, Ben and Beverly's attempts to get Mira to do much of anything were pointedly ignored. Richie found it rather funny, and couldn't say it didn't make him feel special. Despite this attitude though, Richie noticed Ben warming up to Mira quite a bit, and that put a smile on his face.

Richie could barely believe how fast Mira was growing. With an increase of size came an increase of everything else, with shedding, energy, and appetite being the ones most noticable. While she tired easily with her leg still on the mend, daily walks became a must. Leaving and re-entering the apartment complex were always stressful moments, Richie murmuring “what dog? I don't have a dog,” to himself like a chant and navigating the stairs as fast as he could. It was always much easier when Stan went with them, acting as lookout during the dog smuggling.

The shedding was what bothered Stan the most. It was a near constant occurrence, and as a result, dust bunnies of dog hair began developing in every corner of every room. Being two college age boys, neither owned a vacuum cleaner.

“It's uncontrollable. Her fur gets everywhere.” Stan complained, a blissfully ignorant Mira asleep in his lap as he sat on the couch. He lifted his hand from where it had been resting next to his thigh, making a face and wiping it on his jeans. “She's drooly, too.”

“She's a dog, Stan.” Richie said, without looking up from his biochemistry homework. “I don't know what you expected.”

Stan took to brushing her every night. At first, the extra attention was cause for excitement, and with Mira running around and nipping at Stan's fingers, the whole operation was incredibly ineffective. But then Stan took to waiting until the evening, when all of Mira's energy had already run its course, and it became a relaxing activity instead. The tension would leave Stan's shoulders as he worked, Mira often even falling asleep halfway through the process. When that happened Stan would stay with her for a little while, petting or cradling her, even once kissing her on the head when he thought Richie wasn't watching. Richie swore he felt his heart explode.

When those two weeks had run their course, April now upon them, it was time to bring Mira back to the animal hospital to get her leg checked up on and her sutures removed. Richie and Stan found a Friday morning when they were both free and scheduled the appointment, bringing her in together. Richie noticed his receptionist friend sitting behind her desk and absolutely beaming at them, and with a sick jolt of fear, realized that she would want to bring up their inside joke again. Except Richie still hadn't told Stan.

“Hey,” Richie said lowly, catching Stan by the jacket sleeve as they walked in. “I have something you need to know.”

“...what?” Stan gave him a quizzical look.

“That receptionist there? The one staring at us? Well…” Richie couldn't think of a good way to say it, so he said it as plainly as he could. “When I came here with Ben, she thought we were dating. You and I, I mean.”

“Okay?”

“And… I didn't correct her.”

“Oh.” Stan was silent for a long moment, Richie waiting for him to get mad, or creeped out, like Ben said he would be. But neither happened. Stan just said “okay,” and walked straight up to the reception desk.

“Okay?” Richie muttered to himself, having no idea what that was supposed to mean, hurrying up behind him.

“Mira Tozier, here for her recheck.” Stan told the receptionist with a smile.

“Oh, of course I know who you are.” She responded, smiling back. “Long time, no see for you!”

“I've been working.”

“Yes, I've heard. The what, backbone of the household?” The receptionist gave Richie a look that meant she was absolutely enjoying herself, but all Richie could manage was a weak smile back. What was happening?

“Well, I wouldn't have to work so much if he picked up extra shifts, like I do.” Stan lied, looking over at Richie with what could only be described as affection, reaching over and mussing up his hair. Richie could feel himself turning beet red, and the receptionist, looking delighted, got from her seat and said she would notify the doctor of their arrival.

“Do you think she bought it?” Stan asked as they went to sit down.

“Bought it?” It took Richie a second to find his voice. “She didn't need to buy anything, I just--”

“Yeah, but did you see how happy she was?” Stan grinned a little, and Richie couldn't help but watch him, feeling hopelessly confused. “I don't mind. Hey, she might even give us a discount or something.”

Dumbfounded, Richie simply nodded. Thankfully, he was able to pull himself out of his surprise by the time the vet technician arrived, and their appointment started. They found out that Mira had grown a full eight pounds since she'd left the hospital, putting her weight in the lower thirties. Her eye had healed up well, the veterinarian delighted by that; the skin had completely sealed, her hair already beginning to grow back. Nothing had disturbed her broken leg either, the bones still all set correctly, being told to return in three weeks time to see if they could take the cast off. All in all, everything was fine. Richie beamed with pride.

“Now that her injuries are healing, it's likely that you'll see an increase in her energy, as she can return to acting like a normal puppy.” The veterinarian told them, and Richie nodded.

“We've definitely seen that.”

“Then it would do no harm to take her on walks. Though, due to her size, it would also be good to begin training her to heel; that is a habit she needs to have by the time she's big enough to pull you off your feet.”

Nodding a bit, Richie thanked them and they were able to go back home. They made it out of the car and halfway up the stairs before a loud voice stopped them.

“Uris! Tozier! What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Richie froze, trying to look innocent, trying to keep the wince off his face as he turned to greet their landlord, a short, balding, and angry-looking man standing at the bottom of the steps.

“Good afternoon!” He tried, passing Mira's leash quickly over to Stan.

“Is that a dog?” Their landlord asked.

“It is! It's not our dog though, Mr…” Richie realized in a moment of wild stupidity that he couldn't remember the man's name. Stan, who hadn't yet turned around, gave Richie a grimace that told him he didn't remember the name either, and when the landlord didn't offer it over, Richie simply had to continue on. “...sir. It's my sister's dog. She asked me to watch her for the night. Just for one night! And I figured, since she's not technically living here, it would be--”

“No!” The man looked hopping mad. “Didn't you read the rent agreement? No pet policy! That means no pets!”

“But--”

“No! You bring that dog down these steps now. You'll have to shack it up somewhere else for the night. I don't care where, but it's not staying here.”

The throbbing vein in the man's temple didn't leave them with much room for argument. Unsure of where else to go, they piled back into Stan's car. Richie suggested the nearest fast food place, and they were off.

They ended up at Sonic, somewhere Richie hadn't been since he was a kid. They got two milkshakes, a double order of fries, and a small vanilla ice cream for Mira, who lapped up the new treat eagerly.

“What do we do?” Stan asked. His eyes caught the midday sun as he looked over at Richie, lighting up in beautiful brown and green and gold. Richie cleared his throat loudly and looked away, popping the lid off his milkshake. He took three fries, dunked them all in the drink, then put them all in his mouth.

“We’ll just go back later.” He said, Stan giving him an expression that very clearly said 'don’t talk with your mouth full’. He swallowed. “That guy probably thinks we're dumb, but not so dumb that we'd try to smuggle the same dog into the same apartment twice in one day. He won't be looking out for us.”

“He will for a couple of hours, though.” Stan took a long drink from his milkshake straw. “What do we do until then? I would say walk Mira for a little while, but I don't really feel comfortable doing that along the side of the road.”

“I think we should sit here, and finish up our fries and milkshakes.” Richie began. The word “walk” had suddenly reminded him of something. “Then go back to the apartment. I have something in the woods I need to show you.”

Stan gave him a critical once-over.

“If this is some joke about your dick or something--”

“No!” Richie felt his face turn pink, though he didn't know why he was embarrassed. Dick jokes were nothing new. “It's actually something. It's kinda serious, really.”

Stan raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask any following questions. He turned back to his milkshake, drinking from it again, and suddenly began to laugh.

“What?” Richie asked him.

“I just…” Stan reached over to get some fries, two of them between his fingers as he looked up at Richie, grinning, an incredulous sort of amusement behind his words. “I just can't believe we couldn't remember our landlord's name.”

That had Richie laughing too.

“I know! I seriously have no idea. Mr… Mr. Calver? Clemson? Something like that?”

“Didn't it start with an 'H’?” Stan asked back, and Richie shrugged.

“Probably. Maybe.”

They gave suggestions back and forth, the quality of the guesses slowly devolving into jokes. Richie's suggestion of “Mr. Bulging Neck-Vein” made Stan spit milkshake all over the table, and they had to ask a server for napkins. Finally though they got to their feet, cleaned up their table, and got back in Stan's car. He parked on the opposite side of their apartment building, and the three of them snuck off into the woods.

“How far is it? Stan asked, and Richie didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure he was walking in the right direction; he hadn't really been paying attention while talking to Eddie on the phone. After a few minutes of silence, Stan spoke again.

“Can you at least tell me where we're going? Because this kind of feels like the first five minutes of Law and Order, or something. We're either going to get killed, or find a dead body.”

In spite of himself, that made Richie laugh.

“I think I found where Mira came from.” He said. “The day before I found her, I was on a walk, and I came across something that looked a lot like her. Some fuzzy animal in the creek. I couldn't really tell what it was, though. And I didn't try to get too close, because it was already dead. Maybe it had been for a while.”

The mood had sobered up, Stan watching him. Richie shrugged a little.

“I was talking to Eddie the other day, and walking around this area, and… I kinda stumbled upon something. I think it was a puppy mill.”

There was silence as the words sunk in.

“And Mira's a purebred dog, isn't she?” Stan asked quietly. Richie nodded.

“Yeah. Think so.”

Richie saw Stan nod out of the corner of his eye. They walked in silence, and then Richie heard barking. He followed the sound, Stan right behind him, and again, at the sight of the place, Richie's stomach lurched, an uneasy, queasy feeling setting in.

“Shit.” Stan murmured, while Mira's ears perked up at the sight of other dogs. “Richie… Richie, this is…”

“I know. I when I looked it up, it said that puppy mills are technically legal, but Beverly said that the really bad ones could be shut down. I don't know what to do.”

“There's no way this is okay.” Stan said. He pulled his phone from his pocket, typing quickly, pausing at a realization. “If this is where Mira is from, does that mean that whoever runs this place is the person that tried to kill her?”

“I… I don't know.” Richie hadn't considered that before. “Maybe, yeah.”

“We have to shut this place down.” There was a surprisingly vehemence in Stan's voice as he scrolled through web pages, reading quickly. “We should take pictures, look around… Get evidence and stuff.”

Richie nodded, pulling his own phone out.

“Stay here.” He told Stan, holding Mira's leash out to him when he began to protest. “Stay here with Mira. Don't worry; I'll be in and out before you know it.”

Stan frowned, but didn't argue. As quietly as he could, Richie crept forward.

His presence caused an uproar among the dogs. They all began barking as soon as they saw him, and Richie soon gave up on trying to be discreet, instead taking pictures of as many horrible things as he could, and as quickly as possible. With each step things looked worse and worse, and it wasn't long before he was discovered.

“Hey!” A rough shout made him jump. “Who the hell are you? What are you doing on my property?”

Richie spun, met with the sight of a man, long and thin like himself. This man was older, maybe closer to forty, walking with a slight limp. His face was nearly completely covered with a bushy brown mustache and beard, a baseball cap pulled low over his head.

“Oh, you know.” Richie shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “A little of this, a little of that.”

“This is private property.” The man growled, walking closer. “I will have you arrested for trespassing, you snot-nosed kid!”

There were dark, rust-colored splotches on the man's tan boots, and whether or not the stains were blood, that's what they looked like. Anger flared in Richie's stomach.

“Not if I get you arrested first.” He said, holding up his phone. “I know some people in law enforcement who would be very interested in what's on my camera roll.”

Richie, of course, didn't know anyone, but the words struck a nerve.

“Give me that!” The man yelled, running in Richie's direction. Richie had to dash to the side to avoid him, turning and jumping back, and in the confusion he didn't know what way to run in order to leave the way he came.

In his disoriented state he didn't have time to dodge the arm that flew in his direction; pain blossomed from Richie's mouth as the man's fist connected with his jaw, feeling what seemed like every one of his teeth puncturing his lower lip. His mouth filled with the taste of copper and he spat out red, gasping. Richie wasn't a stranger to being punched in the face, but it hadn't happened in years, stumbling backwards and keeping his head down. The man grabbed at his arm, his grip closing around the wrist of the hand Richie had holding his phone. He twisted, Richie letting out a shout of pain, dropping his cell phone to the ground. He had enough of his wits about him to kick the phone away when it landed near his foot, and that made the man release him. But Richie knew he was faster, scrambling over, falling to his knees to pick the device up.

With a growl, a mass of brown fur came streaking towards them. Richie managed to grab hold of Mira just before she leapt at the man; he didn't want her to bite him. He didn't want her to bite anyone.

Stan was standing at the edge of the trees, white-faced. Richie struggled to get his legs under him, setting Mira down in favor of holding her leash, and they ran full force in Stan's direction. When Richie reached him he didn't slow down, cutting off the beginning of whatever Stan was trying to say by grabbing his hand, and the three of them made a break for it.

The man hurled curses at them, but didn't give chase. Through all of the adrenaline and fear, Richie felt a strange laugh bubble from his mouth, and it did bubble; his rapid breathing was causing the blood behind his lips to froth and blister.

“Richie.” They were out of the trees by the time Stan found his voice. He had tears stinging his eyes, his breathing labored. “Richie, let go of my hand.”

The request took Richie by surprise so much that he followed immediately, releasing him. He didn’t know how to feel about it, but when he saw Stan’s hand, that worry was gone and replaced by a newer, stronger one. Stan’s palm was ripped with rope burn, doubtlessly from Mira’s leash, and Richie had been holding it, pressing into it.

“I’m so sorry.” He gasped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

Stan just shook the apology off, neither of them speaking again until they were safely inside their apartment. Stan locked the door behind them and Richie sank to his knees, exhausted. Mira was on him instantly, whining and licking at his face, and while the concern was appreciated, it did hurt.

“Richie--” Stan began, about to crouch and help him up, but Richie shook his head.

“No. You go wash your hand off. I’m okay.”

Stan gave him one, long look before going to the kitchen sink. Richie pulled himself to his feet, making it to a kitchen chair before sitting down again.

“Are you okay?” Stan asked, without turning around.

“Yeah.” Richie answered. “I mean, my lip’s a little busted up, but that’s happened before. I’ll live.”

When Stan turned back to him, he was holding a warm washcloth. He approached Richie’s face with it, but when Richie tried to bat him away, Stan grabbed his wrist and forced his arm back down.

“Let me.” He insisted, so Richie did. The washcloth was rough against his swollen, broken skin, but he didn’t say anything. The moment felt too fragile; Richie held his tongue.

When Stan moved away, turning to rinse the bloody washcloth off in the sink, Richie deemed it safe to speak up.

“Is your hand okay? What happened?”

Stan sighed.

“I'll be fine.” He said. “We heard the guy's voice first, and Mira's hackles just instantly went up. I don't know if she remembered him or what, but she didn't like him at all. And then we heard you yell, and there wasn't anything I could do. I didn't expect her to move so fast. I didn't even know she could, honestly, with her leg and everything. I didn't have the handle of the leash around my wrist; I was just holding onto the rope. She ripped it out of my hand.”

“Sorry.”

Stan simply looked at him for a moment, bunching his lips up before straightening them again, as though rolling Richie's apology around in his mouth.

“It's fine.” He said, moving towards the freezer to get ice for Richie's still-swelling lip. “It's not your fault.”

Richie decided to ignore the fact that yeah, it kind of was.

They crowded around Richie's laptop together and tried to find the best way to report what they saw. They ended up finding a form they could submit on the ASPCA website, Stan filling it out while Richie complained about just how cold the ice pack was.

“Of course it's cold. It has ice in it.”

“But what if my mouth goes numb?”

“Then maybe you'll shut up for once.”

“Stan!” He whined, removing the ice from his face. “My lips are freezing! This is your fault. You should warm them up for me.”

If this had been a month ago, Stan would have laughed or rolled his eyes or shoved him off the couch. Now though, Stan went silent and still and Richie regretted saying anything, feeling as though he'd broken their unspoken agreement to not talk about the kiss in the car. Instead of sitting in awkward silence, Richie shifted topics without any ease or eloquence.

“Anyway, I've been meaning to ask you… The Craigslist ad? Has anyone responded to it? I put your name and number for the contact information.”

“Oh, thanks.” Stan said dryly. “I'm so glad that any random person on the internet now has access my phone number. But no, to answer your question. Nobody's called about her.”

“Really?” Richie had been avoiding even thinking about the offer he'd posted to sell Mira away, not wanting to bring it up to Stan for fear that someone wanted to negotiate prices, or something. He'd been a bit surprised that Stan hadn't mentioned it either, but had told himself not to question his luck. A lack of responses explained that, though. He looked over at the puppy in question, who was chasing her tail, becoming confused whenever the tail switched over to her right side and she couldn't see it anymore. She looked hilarious, and Richie's heart ached a little. “Who wouldn't want her?”

“I don't know.” Stan shrugged, returning his eyes to the form on the computer screen. “I mean, it does sort of make sense. She still has a cast on her leg, and we said we would foster her until she was all healed, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Stan looked over him, a little grin growing on his face that made Richie's heart skip a beat or two.

“What?” He had to ask.

“You just…” Stan gestured to his injured face. “You look terrible.”

“How dare you?” Richie drew himself up and puffed out his chest, trying to imitate an overly pompous English gentleman. “You're making a mockery, after I so valiantly defended my lady’s honor?”

“Making a mockery?” Stan asked back, raising an amused eyebrow, obviously surprised by the phrase. “And which one of us is your lady? Me or Mira?

“You, obviously.” Richie said, and Stan laughed. “Mira can hold her own, I think.”

[zankivich]

Neighbors: Shawn x Plus Size Reader Chapter 9

a/n: hi. this one hits a little close to home to me, but I thought it was really important to explore the ways in which our perceptions of ourselves get largely created by the people around us, by the culture around us. I also just wanted to look at how being fat and happy is such a radical notion and how it is a difficult, difficult thing to manage. I really wanted to do that justice. I also just wanted to bring Shawn and y/n closer together and I thought, what better way than a messy ass family? idk. Tell me what you think. or don’t. k bye. 

*y/n pov*

You were stupid. Honestly you had to be fucking dumb. What other reason could there be for taking Shawn to the most ridiculous family in all of the world? Your sweet, sweet boyfriend was about to be tainted and it would be all your fault for taking him into the lion’s den. The need to not be miserable for another Christmas had clouded your better judgement, and it wasn’t until you saw all of your brother’s cars parked around your mother’s tiny house that you remembered why you were always miserable. It was because your family was a shit show.

“This was stupid. We shouldn’t be here.” You mumbled.

“What?”

You looked over at Shawn, all curly haired doe-eyed optimism and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. And suddenly you could feel the distance between the two of you. It wasn’t just the fact that he was a rockstar and you were a regular ole person. It was that he seemed to have a certain level of purity that surrounded his life. Sure, no one was perfect, but Shawn was as close as you’d ever seen. You couldn’t handle the thought of him finally recognizing just how opposites you were in that regard. You didn’t want him to see the ugly, only the good. That’s probably why people wait longer to introduce their significant others to the family. Shit.

“I wanna go home. Let’s just go home, and I’ll call them and say we had car trouble. Please?”

He turned in his seat and reached for your hand threading your fingers through the gloves you each were wearing.

“Hey. This is your family. I--I was really looking forward to meeting them. What’s wrong?”

You shook your head vigorously. “My family isn’t like your family, Shawn. Please, let’s just go.”

“No. I don’t want your family to be like mine. I just wanna understand who you are better. I wanna learn more about you, honey. That’s all.”

“Yea but what if you don’t like what you see?”

He tugged at one of your gloves bringing your bare fingers to his lips to kiss at them. You looked over and his eyes met yours leaving you to realize that he had tricked you into eye contact. Asshole.

“I can’t imagine not loving all of the parts of you. Even the not so great ones. I love the way your hair clogs the drain for example, and your incessant need to organize the spice rack in my apartment. Or your incessant need to make me purchase a spice rack to begin with.”

You pouted at him immediately. “You have to have a spice rack Shawn. It’s a necessity. And I do not clog the drain.”

“Oh but babe you do. Like a werewolf took a bath. But I find it absolutely adorable. It made me learn how to use drain-o.” He smirked. “I don’t care if your family is crazy. I just want to meet them, okay?”

You rolled your eyes the way that he deserved because he was so annoying when he was sweet, but he just kept kissing your fingers like the jackass he was.

“Fine. fine, fine, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You groaned.

Shawn pulled the presents you’d gotten out of the backseat and you headed inside together against your better judgement.

It’s one of your older brothers who answered the door and he’s already got a beer in hand despite the fact that it’s not even three o’clock yet, so this should definitely go well.

“Lil sis!” He snorted immediately pulling you into a headlock the bastard.

“Goddammit Rob let me go!”

He doesn’t and you’re transported back to being twelve years old and barely surviving with all the fucking testerone around. It takes a knee to the balls to get him to back off, or fall to the ground, but your family doesn’t play fair and he’d never learned to guard. You remembered when ‘Liyah had opened the door and Shawn and she had just hugged for five minutes straight. Your point was getting more proven by the second.

“Shawn this is one of my older brothers, Rob; Rob this is Shawn.”You panted, stepping over his crippled body.

Shawn winced. “Do you--would you like some help bro?”

“Don’t you dare.” You muttered pulling him deeper into the house. “We show no mercy.”

The rest of her brothers are littered around the living room. There are wives and kids and you’re anxious just looking at it all. You were the only one of the kids to not have gotten married and have children yet. And as if the physical presence of them all wasn’t clear enough, you would surely be reminded at some point in the evening. Once your brothers recognize that you’ve arrived it’s like a swarm descends and you’re suddenly being grabbed and hugged and hit from all angles.  They’re all massive and annoying and you being the baby means that they kind of all adore you, though years of emotional trauma means you all have a funny fucking way of showing it.There’s no place like home.

“Shawn these are the rest of my brothers. John is the oldest. Rob is the second oldest. Noah is the middle. And then there’s me, but you know me. Guys, this is Shawn, my boyfriend. Do not break him. I like him.”

Shawn is optimistic and smiley as ever as he reached to shake the hands of all your brothers. It is sickeningly sweet, and you love him for it.

“It’s about time she brought someone home to meet the family!” John snorted. “We were starting to think she was avoiding us.”

“I was and I am!” You interject.

Shawn chuckled. “Family is super important to me. I think she’s indulging me. I’ve heard so much about you all though; She must really love you.”

You know that he’s talking about all the times he got you wine drunk and asked you personal questions, also known as Shawn’s favorite pastime. But, tomato potato.

“She’s got a hell of a way of showing it.” Rob smirked, rolling his eyes when you flipped him off. “Lil sis, got her fancy college degree and moved as soon as possible. We’re surprised she stayed in Canada at all.”

Shawn gave you a look, but this is exactly what you knew was going to happen, so you purposely don’t make eye contact with him.

John looked Shawn up and down crossing his arms at the sight of your boyfriend. They’re about the same height, but John is more burley as opposed to Shawn’s chiseled form. You would hate to ever see them wrestle, there’s no way in hell it could end well.

“And now that she’s got a big fancy boyfriend, we figure we won’t be seeing much of her at all.”

That’s the first inkling you get that they’re not a fan of Shawn, which was something that truly had never occured to you. Shawn seemed to be like a magnet, sticking and pulling in all that came in contact with him. Everyone loved Shawn. That had been the one thing you hadn’t felt the need to worry about. Boy, were you wrong.

“I don’t know man. Like I said, family is so important to me. I’m sure we’d love to visit more if given the chance, but uh she’s her own woman. I wouldn’t want to ask her to do something she didn’t want to.”

“I bet you wouldn’t, pretty boy.”

You take that as officially your time to intervene. Your boyfriend was very pretty, but you got the sense that the way John was saying it was not meant to be a compliment. Being the baby, and the only girl of the bunch, meant that you had to know how to assert your dominance in the family. It was the only way not to get run over and stepped on. You were the most vindictive bastard out of all of them for that exact reason, so when you moved to shoulder check your oldest brother and send a glare his way, there was an immediate understanding to back the fuck off.

“Nice to see you all are still complete and utter assholes at heart. C’mon, babe I’m sure my mom is around here somewhere.”

You tug Shawn along with you and he sends a nervous glance in your direction. You wonder if he’s finally regretting coming to this hell hole.

“Did I do something wrong?” He whispered to you.

You sighed and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Of course not. My brothers are just exerting their toxic masculinity. I haven’t brought a guy home in a very long time. They want to scare you to see if you’ll break. Don’t let it get to you.”

“Okay. I feel like I’m back in highschool but...mothers are my strong suit. I’ve never met a mother that didn’t like me.”

You snorted. “I’m not sure if your optimism is endearing or exhausting at this point.”

In the kitchen your mother was sitting at the table by herself peeling potatoes. It was a family tradition that no one was allowed inside the kitchen on big holidays when she was cooking. Not your brothers, their wives, not even her grandchildren.The only exception to the rule had been you. It’s where you learned everything you knew about cooking and baking, was afternoons after school spent beside her, when your head still met her hip, and she’d let you stand on a chair to see everything going on. When she peers up to look at you there’s a smile on her face in a very muted way. It’s more of a persing of her lips, but you know what it means and that’s all that matters. You leave Shawn’s side for just barely a second and step up to wrap your arms around her gently in a hug. You’d gotten your hair color from her, as well as your hips, chest, and fuck-off attitude. Your mother and you were very much alike in most ways. This only turned out horribly most times, but in times like this at least, you were okay.

“Hi, Mommy.” You murmured squeezing her tightly.

“It’s about time you come visit me. Your brothers are driving me up a fuckin wall, everyone of em.”

“I say you give them up for a adoption, sell the presents, and we go to Vegas.” You joked.

“Girl, don’t tempt me.”

When you look up at Shawn he’s standing against the door way with his arms crossed and a smile on his lips so big you kind of want to kiss it off of him. You hold your hand out for him to join you both at the table and he immediately links your fingers together to give them a firm squeeze.

“Mom, I wanted to introduce you to someone.” You explained biting back the smile that tended to burst from within you when it came to Shawn. “This is uh--this is my boyfriend, Shawn. Shawn, this is my mother.”

Your mom peers up at him inquisitively. It’s not a mean stare which is good, it’s just more of a searching one. He shakes her hand and squeezes it firmly between his oversized palms.

“It’s so lovely to meet you ma’am.” He grinned.

She raises her eyebrows. “You’re the popstar my sons showed me on youtube? You’re with my daughter?”

Oh lord.

He laughed. “Yes, I guess I am.”

“I like that one song. The blood song? They play it all the time on the radio.”

“In my blood? Yea! Well thank you ma’am; it’s an honor.”

You rolled your eyes at that. Shawn had gotten nominated for a grammy for that song, but as long as your mother liked it, it was an “honor”.

Your mother snorted. “Don’t call me ma’am, call me Julie.”

“Okay, Julie. Julie it is.” Shawn smiled. “Can we help you with the potatoes at all? I think peeling potatoes is one of the only things I’m good at in the kitchen besides eating.”

Your mother laughs and clutches her metaphorical pearls which is just the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen, but she lets him pull up a seat in her kitchen. It is genuinely unheard of in your household, and it takes you a second to move because you’re just watching him make your mom laugh and it’s a little bit incredible. He wore a black button up that day and when he rolled his sleeves up to wash his hands, his arms flexed and you wanted to wrap him up in your arms and nuzzle him to death. It was ridiculous the effect he seemed to have on you, and apparently any woman he came across.

“Babe, did I ever tell you? My mom used to have me and Aaliyah have competitions to see who could peel the longest string of skin off a potato. We were so competitive that now we can both peel it off in one.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and grabbed a potato from the bowl.

“Why is that the least surprising story I’ve ever heard. You guys are so wholesome it’s disgusting.”

“If you wanted to have potato peeling competitions with me baby, all you had to do was ask.” He smirked.

You shoved your hand into his face to try and dispel some of the perfection, but it was useless. In fact you were pretty sure all it did was fluff his curls into a better position. Asshole.

It had never occured to you to peel a potato in one even stream before. Because you were a normal person with things going on and who the hell has time for that. But the second Shawn held the curly strand up in front of your face like a cat bringing its owner a dead mouse, you realized that you could not be upstaged in the kitchen with this manchild you were dating. And thus began the dumbest competition to ever occur in the history of ever.

Shawn was actually really fucking good at peeling potatoes. Somehow the mystery of measuring cups failed him, but potato peeling? That’s where he shined. When your mother insisted that that was all of the potatoes that she needed, you ignored her in favor of getting out the sack of the rest of them from the cabinet.

Shawn chuckled. “Don’t worry Julie, we will take all leftover potatoes home with us.”

“You can take them home to your very cold, very lonely apartment by yourself.” You muttered as he bested you again.

Shawn dropped his peeler in favor for wrapping himself around you, half in your chair and half in his, to press all of his weight into you like the annoying man he was.

“Don’t get mad at me. You are better than me at everything else in this life. Can’t I have potato peeling?”

“No.” You moped.

He snickered. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Uh uh.”

“Not even a little one?”

“Nope.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Mmm I don’t know.”

“Well I’m not gonna kiss you until you tell me I can, so I’ll just be here until you’re ready.” He murmured.

You rolled your eyes pulling him by the collar of his shirt to press his lips against yours.

“You’re annoying.” You whispered against his mouth.

“Yea, but I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Your mom asked you to make apple pie. It was her favorite of all the things that you made and it was pretty fun for you to make so you didn’t mind it at all. Shawn brought out the wine that you had brought and poured you a big glass with ice cubes the way you liked it. He was helping you make the pie by handing you the spices one by one as opposed to actually helping at all, when your mother decided that things had been going well for too long.

Shawn and you were standing at the counter while you cut up apples and you just happened to take a sip out of your glass.

“I wish you wouldn’t drink like that. Your father hated when women drank.” She sighed.

You snorted. “Yea, Ma, Dad also hated being a dad, so I’m not sure if his expectations are ones we should be trying to meet. Last time I checked he was an alcoholic anyway.”

“Don’t speak about your dad like that. He was a great man. Especially not on Christmas.”

Your knife slowed to a crawl on the cutting board and you could feel Shawn’s eyes on you as your cheeks began to warm up.

“No, Mom, he wasn’t. He was mean and abusive and a drunk. I’m not gonna pretend that he wasn’t and you shouldn’t either. You worked too fucking hard for us all of to glorify that asshole.”

Your mom goes quiet for a little while. That’s never good, so it’s really just a means of biding your time to see what she comes up with. Shawn watches you take a bigger gulp from your glass than normal, but no one is speaking so it’s fine. You’re used to it by now, but it’s Shawn first time at the rodeo. Your mother was your whole entire world because she had managed to create a life for four children off a nine to five desk assistant job with no college degree. She’d worked her ass off for them, but it had come at a price. And that price was years and year of emotional and physical trauma that she had endured through her husband. When it was all set and done that trauma didn’t just evaporate; it became internalized, and then it got regurgitated back onto you and your brothers. So when she opens her mouth it’s not to say anything good at all, and suddenly all of your fears about this day are just spilling out into the room and you’re helpless to stop them.

“So, Shawn… You’re successful. Young. Very handsome.” She murmured. “What exactly are you doing with my daughter?”

You were facing the counter, but Shawn had leaned against it the opposite way so that he was facing your mother. This meant that you caught a glimpse of his face going into shock without having to see your mother’s reaction to it.

“W--What...I’m not sure I understand what you mean, ma’am.”

If you could have spoken in that moment you would’ve told him that allowing your mother to expand and clarify her statements was never a wise idea.

“You know what I mean, son. My daughter isn’t exactly a supermodel. We l/n women have not gotten through life on the basis of our looks, that’s for sure. All that wine and potatoes certainly isn’t helping things.”

Holy fuck. If global warming could have sped up in that moment just enough for a crater to form in the earth beneath your kitchen and swallow you whole you’d be good with that.

“I happen to love your daughter ma’am. She’s an incredible, intelligent woman, and her body is just one on a very long list of things that I adore about her. You really shouldn’t say things like that.”

The knife isn’t even moving anymore. As many times as you’d heard it and everything like it, you could never grow used to the way your mom could speak sometimes. And as much as you’d learned about your body and the beauty it entailed, something about coming home always brought up the ugliest of thoughts that you were sure you’d gotten rid of. The new thing here was having Shawn defend you. Your brothers, though sympathetic had never jumped to your defense before. His willingness to go against her when he had been so concerned with making a good impression was kind of baffling. You weren’t used to it, or how good it could make you feel. There were so many different emotions running through you in that moment that they felt difficult to contain within you.

“What?! What I’d say? Oh y/n you’re always so sensitive and now you’ve got this poor young man doing the same.” Julie muttered.

You chuckled humorlessly. “Sure thing, Mom. My bad.”

“I wasn’t saying anything bad. I was just pointing out the obvious, dear. I was interested in what had brought the two of you together is all.”

“Then maybe next time you could just ask that as  opposed to asking the guy I’m dating what the hell he could possibly see in me.” You snapped letting the knife clang loudly on the counter. “Jesus Christ, I’m going for a walk.”

It’s cold as shit outside and the snow is up to your ankles, but somehow it feels less cold then being in the kitchen with your mother for another second. You breathed in and out a couple of times to calm yourself down. When you were younger and your mom would say shit like that it would cause a sort of thought spiral to begin in your head. It would be all that you thought about and all that you could focus on. The good news was that it didn’t consume you in quite that way anymore. But, it did hurt and it did affect you whether you wanted it to or not.

Shawn found you on the porch sitting on the bench that was sat outside and letting the snow sink into your pants. He was wearing that hideous yellow flannel jacket of his that made him happy, and he simply plopped down beside you so that your shoulders touched. You were still focusing on breathing at that point in time because you really didn’t want to cry in front of him. It felt like an admittance of some sort if you did, although to what you weren’t sure.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He mumbled  as you leaned your head against his shoulder. “I--I didn’t know.”

It was cold enough that the wind was biting at your cheeks and your eyes were watering without ever asking you if it was fucking okay to do such a thing.

“It’s fine.” You whispered. “Everything’s fine.”

He lifted his arm up to let you nestle closer to him and pulled you against him to press a kiss to your hair.

“It doesn’t have to be. It’s okay for it not to be fine. You taught me that.”

You sniffled. “I don’t have the time to fall apart right now.”

“Do you wanna go?”

“It’s too late. I can’t let her see that it got to me anymore than I already have. Leaving would only fuel her.”

“Okay...Well I have this very absorbent, beautiful jacket here that I know you know love so much. And I’ve heard that anything that happens to this coat stays in this coat. So, I think if you were to hide your face against it, it might be our little secret.”

You roll your eyes and laugh a little as a tear falls down your cheek. But when he’s offering you solace your helpless but to take it, so you tucked your face into the safe confines of his coat and let the tears seep angrily into the fabric. He rubbed soothingly at your arms and kept his face hidden in your hair. It was also as if he was protecting you from the world. That’s how it felt anyway. And you thought that if you’d been able to provide a fraction of the comfort that you got when he held you, than maybe you’d actually given him something good as well.

When you pull your face back ten minutes later the air hits aggressively at your cheeks but he’s immediately there to kiss and wipe away the tears.

“I think you’re really beautiful when you cry.” He smiled. “Not that I want you to do it unless you need to. You’re just beautiful to me.”

“Thank you.” You sighed still sniffling. “I told you we were a shit show.”

“That’s okay. No family is perfect y/n, not even mine. There’s still no place I’d rather be than here with you right now.”

You feel that pressure in your nose that happens when you cry. It’s like a clogging of your sinuses but instead of it being through illness, it’s just through sadness. Your shoulders are tense and your body is on guard the way it usually had to be. Something about having Shawn with you made you want it to be different. You had invited him after all because you knew you could be happy with him beside you. There was a need to take control of the narrative that so far your family had been running. And you thought that maybe you could make it better for the two of you.

“Do you wanna get high right now?”

His eyes widened and you couldn’t help but laugh a little into his neck.

“I’m sorry?”

“Noah? My brother? He’s a total pothead. We’re the closest in age though so he always shares with me. I need to mellow out before I go back in there.”

“You didn’t tell me you smoke.”

You laughed. “Neither did you. You just told the entire world instead.”

That’s how you end up hotboxing your garage with your brother and your boyfriend. You’d never seen Shawn put a blunt between his lips, but it might just be the hottest thing you’d ever seen in your life. Weed tended to make you horny, so it’s genuinely a matter of not jumping his bones on the hood of your mom’s ‘98 Honda. Noah had always had ridiculously strong weed too so within twenty minutes you’re all leaning against any hard surface you can find having a conversation about the ethics of mass female consumption in the music industry.

“It doesn’t bother you that like your body is essentially for sale?” Noah asked as he took another hit and passed it to you.

Shawn was answering but your brain had only caught the “your body” part and was working on undressing Shawn mentally right then and there.

“I don’t think so. I mean...I think my fans think I’m cute or whatever, but like the vast majority are here for the music. If my music sucked they could find someone just as good looking if not more and move on to the next guy. I know it’s about the music because they tell me about it constantly. It's always been about that for us.”

“Okay but like is it ethical to sell your body for fame, I guess is the question. And then like it is ethical to request hundreds of hundreds of dollars from what are essentially children?”

Shawn sort of squinted as he took the blunt from you and nestled it between his lips. Jesus, his lips. His hands. Hmmmmm.

“I gotta be honest dude, you’re kind of blowing my high.” He chuckled.

You snorted wrapping your arms around your boyfriend and sending your brother an accusatory look.

“Noah likes to get philosophical when he’s high. Let him get baked before we go bake please.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Fine. Mom’s gonna be pissed when you come into the kitchen smelling like weed though.”

“Exactly.” You grinned.

Eventually Noah went inside to check on his wife and it was just the two of you. Shawn’s eyes were red and his cheeks were the same sort of hue and he was sending you this lazy smile that you wanted to lick off. It was really sort of ridiculous, what he did to you. And you wished more than anything that you’d gotten high together months ago because it probably would have solved all of their problems, if how good he looked right now was anything to go by.

“You’re kind of hot when you’re high.” You murmured stepping between his legs. “Why haven’t you told me about this again?”

His hands came to settle on your hips before immediately finding purchase on your ass the way that you liked. He pulled you closer between his thighs so that your hips touched.

“I don’t know. It’s a uh a sort of self-care thing for me I think? I don't do it just to get high, I do it because when I’m very anxious it calms me down. I like the way it makes me feel. I didn’t want you to think it’s all that I do though.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled goofily at your incredibly endearing and constantly overthinking boyfriend.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Stu, Bryan, and I went to Coachella?”

He pressed your foreheads together as if every part of your bodies needed to be touching, and in that moment they kind of did.

“No, but I’d love to hear it.”

“Basically I had student loan money out the ass that I definitely shouldn’t use. Stu and Bryan were like highschool sweethearts or some shit, and since they didn’t go to the same school Bryan surprised Stu with tickets to Coachella. We all go. Bryan sneaks us into some boogie ass tent that I’m positive we weren’t supposed to be at, but they had drugs set out like it was a fucking candy bar. So, we smoke enough weed to put Snoop Dog into a coma, I think Bryan and Stu did like cocaine or E or some shit, and then we all went and watched The fucking Wu Tang Clan perform in the middle of a mosh pit. I think I almost died that weekend.”

He laughs a laugh that you’ve never heard come out of his body before. Shawn usually had a laugh that was quiet, it was always a sort of silent chuckle. Whatever the hell was being produced in front of you was nothing of the sort. His whole body shook and the laugh seemed to stem from his belly and explode outwards. It was the cutest shit you’d ever seen in your life, and you’d happily smoke him out all of the time if it meant getting him to laugh like that.

“Holy shit, I can just imagine you doing that too.” He laughed. “I’ve always wanted to go to Coachella.”

“Yea? We can go next summer. You, me, Bryan and Stu, maybe your friends can come too. We’ll get high as possible. It’ll be fun.”

He hummed softly and snuggled deeper into your arms.

“I think Andrew would hate that idea...Let’s do it.”

***

*Shawn’s pov*

Christmas with Y/n’s family is more of a shit show than he could have ever imagined. But it also served as the most informative experience to understanding who she was as a person. To see her be this confident, take-the-world-by-the-balls woman now knowing the context of where she came from made him fall in love with her all over again. He understood her necessity to do everything on her own, with the role model of a mother who hadn’t had a choice, and a relationship with her family that hadn’t really felt supportive. It was clear that she was the baby and that they had wanted her to follow in the pattern of everyone else, to get married like her mom had, and maybe have some kids. It was also obvious that they didn’t understand the success that she’d achieved in her life thus far, couldn't wrap their minds around her having her own assistant instead of being one. And yet at the heart of it all every single one of her family members absolutely adored her. It felt incredibly disorientating and conflicting just watching it, and so he he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live it.

It isn’t until later when the pie is baking and the ham is still in the oven that she takes him to her childhood bedroom. There’s not much to explore because her mom had gotten rid of her stuff when she went off to school. So, they just lie on her twin size mattress with her head on his chest as she opens up to him again.

“My dad left for the final time on Christmas.” She murmured. “He’d always disappear for weeks or months at a time on benders or whatever, but when I was seven he left for good. I was so young that I-I didn’t understand you know? That he was sick and dealing with addiction. I thought...I thought it was my fault.”

He reaches to tangle his fingers in her hair and kisses soothingly at her forehead.

“Holidays are hard. I’ve just never really worked through that feeling I don’t think. And I try not to feel that way. So that’s why I don't come home very often and that’s why,” She pauses to smile and squeeze him. “That’s why it meant so much to have you here...Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He promised kissing her forehead. “I’m sorry if I forced you to stay when you didn’t want to. You should always have a choice and I feel like I took that from you.”

“No. Don’t apologize. Now when I think back on this room I’ll remember this moment, and not all the fucked up shit that happened here. That alone is worth it.”

It doesn’t really make him feel less guilty. There’s so much history there for her and so much of it seems to be bad. He had forgotten that just because home for him had always been this incredible, special place that not everyone got to have that. And it wasn’t fair of him to assume that of her, that maybe even making that assumption had hurt her more in the end. All he knew was that he wanted to make it up to her, because she was so good to him that even if he had done something wrong she’d never admit it, but he was high as a kite with so few good ideas in his head.

“You think maybe I could give you some more good memories here?”

“Like what?”

He moved to press his lips to her ear, all the more better to whisper his plans to her like the delicate secret it was.

“Like if I ate you out so good the only thing you can remember about this place is the time you had to try not to shout my name.”

Sometimes she looked at him with wide eyes when he would say things like that. His girlfriend was an absolute vixen, but it always seemed to surprise her that he could do the same. He was definitely the softer, more reserved one of the two, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be open with just had badly he wanted her always. But then she would grin at him a lot like how she was now, and it always led to good things. Very. Good. Things.

“You’re high right now.” She mumbled as he climbed his way on top of her body.

He was already working on the button to her jeans but sent a lazy smile up to her from above.

“Absolutely. Now be a good girl and open wide for me.”

***

He watched her hug her family as this sort of bittersweet moment. Her brothers all rallied around her, sweeping her up in their arms. It was love, and love was complicated and messy and deeply impacted by the circumstances one occupied. But, it was their love, and if there was anything he’d learned from their time there was that love could be good and bad simultaneously. When he shook the hands of all of her brothers for a final time, he got the sense that much wouldn’t change. She would always love every single one of them, but if she had her way, and she would have her way, they wouldn’t be visiting here again soon. And if it meant that she would be happy; he was absolutely okay with that.

In the car they sit for a moment in silence, nothing but the sound of the heater filling the space. She looks a little overwhelmed, a little tired, but she’s also smiling. So he figures it’s as good a time as any to do what he’d been planning.

“Hey can I...can I give you one of your presents right now?” He murmured.

She’d been lying her head against the headrest but now she fluttered her lashes at him in interest.

“Sure. I thought you wanted to wait until we got to your parents’ house though?”

“Yea. No, I did, but uh...I wanted to give you this one in private.”

She grinned. “Is it a sex thing?”

He snorted and pressed a hand against his heart in mock disturbance

“Jesus, y/n, no it’s not! I’m trying to be sentimental here and you’re ruining it.”

She pressed her lips together to try to mask her smile and it only made her even more adorable.

“Sorry. Sorry. My bad. Please continue.”

He rolled his eyes playfully but reached over her to grab the box from the glove department. It was a smooth satin box, long and rectangular. He turned so that their bodies were close to one another and rested the box on his thigh as he took her hands in his.

“I just...this year has been the most incredible year of my life. Not in a gloaty way but my music has never been better--there’s the grammys and we sold out the Rogers centre and all of the festivals, and I’ve just been working as hard as can ya know? It’s been incredible and yet...you’re my favorite part of this year.”

A snort came past her lips like she couldn’t believe that and so he squeezed down harder on her fingers.

“No, listen. This has been the most incredible year of my life, but it’s also been the hardest. And I haven’t really been able to deal with it all very well. I’ve just sort of kept pushing and kept working but you . . . you’ve become my best friend. And you make me appreciate it all. And honestly every time i flew home this year I couldn't sit still on the plane because I knew as soon as I landed I might get to see you. I know we haven’t been friends super long, and we’ve dated even less than that but I can’t imagine my life without you, sweetheart. I--I love you so much and I just want to make you happy, okay? Always.”

“Shawn.” She mumbled letting her hands fall to where their fingers were intertwined on her lap.

He reached for the box and settled it on her knee instead, flipping the lid to reveal its contents. They were two necklaces, sterling silver, and each of them were tiny swallows. He’d thought about it a thousand times, had almost returned them and gotten something else dozens, but when she gasped and her hands came to cover his mouth, he thought just maybe he might have gotten it right.

His fingers trembled slightly as he lifted one of the tiny birds into his palm.

“I thought it might be pretentious and annoying and stupid.” He sighed softly. “But, I know how much you like the pennant my grandmother gave me, and I know that my swallow is your favorite tattoo. And I know that...next year is gonna be so crazy for me, and for us, so I thought if we both had these that you would know I’ll always come back to you. We’ll uh--we’ll always come back to each other.”

Seconds feel like minutes, like hours, when you’re trying to do something nice for the person you love. It’s either an incredible gift, or the dumbest thing ever, and he genuinely couldn’t tell which. They’re sitting in the middle of a snowy driveway in the middle of a nowhere town in Ontario, and he’s professing his love for her with a gift, and she’s absolutely silent. And then she begins to cry and his heart is pounding in his chest and he doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do.

“Did I--Did I fuck it up? Shit, shit it’s dumb. Look, I’m so sorry. I can fix it though. I can send it back and I can get you something else, just don’t--don’t cry!  Please, baby don’t cry!”

She brings her hands up to cover her face and he wonders if a man has ever been dumped in his own vehicle before. Surely, that would be a new one.

“UGH!” She groans something that sounds vaguely flemmy. “That is the sweetest thing in the whole entire world. I cannot believe you right now.”

He collapsed against the car seat, his hand coming up to press against his heart and make sure it hadn’t exploded. His girlfriend was slightly dramatically and he was all here for it when it wasn’t giving him a heart attack.

“You don’t hate it?” He checked.

Her eyes were still covered but now her lips were trembling and tears were oozing down her cheeks.

“No I don’t hate it, dammit. That’s so fucking sweet. My heart, Shawn, my heart!”

When he went to pull her hands away from her face, she was genuinely a sight to behold. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks tear stained, and her lips had somehow become more red. Maybe it was a bit sadistic, but she was beautiful. And so he kissed her, the saltiness of her tears touching his lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, his slipping around her back in the tiny space of his jeep. Though there had been nothing but absolute fear and terror just moments before, now his heart was full, warm. She had that effect on him. He figured it meant he was just as gone on her as he thought himself to be.

“Will you put it on for me?” She whispered sniffling.

He fumbled embarrassingly with the clasp, his fingers not built for tiny metal pieces, but eventually managed to secure it around her neck. When the swallow nestle along her throat, she pressed her fingers against the smooth metal and smiled at him lovingly.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Shawn.”

He shook his head pressing another kiss to her cheek.

“Anything for you.” He mumbled. “Anything.”

She insisted on putting his around his neck as well. There’s an extremely cheesy moment where he presses his fingers against the bird along her throat and she does the same for him, but it doesn’t feel cheesy in the slightest. It feels important. It feels like maybe they’re deeper into their relationship than even either of them could have guessed.

When they arrived at his parent’s place again for Christmas day, his Mum notices their necklaces almost immediately. She doesn’t ask any questions, she just looks at him like she knows something that he doesn’t. It’s a smile of a mother who knows her child better than they know themselves. And he wonders if she knows that he loves her more than anything else in the world, because that’s what it feels like for him in the moment. But he just hugs her and lets her kiss his forehead instead.

Taglist: @kitykatnumber @lou-and-me @ourlittleshawnie @mutuallynotmutual @wanderingmendes @peacedolantwins2 @chels-nyc @illloveyouforever1 @justbeingoceana  @hayyitsfayy @claredolphinbear24  @september-lace @grittyisathot

[strangerererthings]

summer lovin’ v

Summary: You spent an amazing summer in California and even got your own little summer romance.  However, you weren’t expecting him to transfer to your tiny high school in Hawkins, Indiana.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Disclaimer: I’m too poor to own Stranger Things or the characters!

Author’s Note: I’m not crying, you’re crying.

Word Count: 2,670

part one/part two/part three/part four/part six/part seven

The next morning, you were shocked to hear the sound of someone honking their horn in your driveway as you sipped on your coffee.  You walked to the window, pushing aside the curtain to find Billy’s blue Camaro in the drive.  Max was half out of the window as she waved excitedly to you.  “Come on, Y/N!  We’re gonna be late!”

You shook your head fondly as you turned around to grab your school bag before running out the door.  Part of you was extremely nervous for today.  It was going to be a test, in a way.  Would Billy actually acknowledge you?  Or would he carry on with his ways from the past few months?

The fact that he had even showed up to give you a ride to school gave you some hope.  Otherwise, you had been planning on walking to school.  Steve usually picked you up, but you knew he had been having a rough time with the whole breakup.

You climbed into the passenger side, Max having moved to the back.  She reached forward, hugging you tightly.  “I’ve missed you, too, kiddo,” you giggled, messing up her hair.

“How much groveling did Billy have to do for you to take him back?!”  Max smirked tauntingly at him in the driver’s seat, sticking out her tongue at him as he threw her the middle finger.

You bit your lip as you reached over, taking his hand in yours.  “Just enough for me to forgive him.”

The smile he gave you was almost blinding and caused your cheeks to go a dark red.  The rest of the drive was sent in a comfortable silence as the three of you sang along quietly with the radio.

You felt yourself growing shaky as you pulled into the parking lot, seeing everyone there.  Billy seemed to feel it as he squeezed your hand, throwing the Camaro into park.  Max immediately jumped out, calling out her goodbyes as she threw down her skateboard and headed for Hawkins Middle School.  Billy turned to you in his seat, pulling your face towards him in a quick kiss.  “Hey, everything’s going to be okay, alright?  I’m here.”

You nodded, feeling a tiny little bit reassured as he got out of the car and ran around the side to open the passenger door for you.  To your surprise, he took your backpack in hand, throwing it over his shoulder.  Billy then took your hand to pull you up into his side.  “Everyone’s staring at you.”  You curled into his side instinctively, almost trying to shield yourself from their eyes.

Billy shook his head as he smirked down at you.  “No, they’re staring at you.  You’re...  You’re radiant.”  He squeezed your side playfully, kissing your hair as the two of you walked into the school.  He seemed to ignore everyone else, only having eyes for you.  “No one here can even come close to you, you know that?”

“Billy, stop trying to flatter me.”  You rolled your eyes as the two of you got to your locker, taking your backpack from him and placing it inside after grabbing the books you needed.

He pushed your hair to the side, kissing your cheek lovingly.  “Why shouldn’t I flatter my girl?”  He kissed your cheek again and again, blatantly ignoring the other people in the hallway that were definitely taking notice of his displays of affection.  You went to turn around to reply, only for him to press a slow, languid kiss to your lips.  “I love you.”  His voice was just a whisper, and you knew that it was meant just for you.  It was special.

“I love you more...”  Your hand went to rest on his cheek as you looked up at him.

Billy shook his head, leaning his forehead against yours.  “Impossible.”  It was like the two of you were trapped in your own little world.  Everything else--all the people, the noises--had faded away until it was only you and Billy.  You two were drinking each other in, trying to make up for those months spent apart.

That is, until Tommy slammed your locker so hard it rattled the entire row of them.  You flinched back, realizing how close he had been to hitting you with it.  “Billy Hargrove!  You tied down after all?”

“Tommy, what the fuck?”  Billy snarled as he pulled you close, his eyes narrowed menacingly at the other boy.

You shrunk into him a bit, the other boy almost intimidating you.  He was loud and brash in a way that was different from Billy.  Billy’s loudness and brashness came from a place of self-defense.  He was trying to protect himself from the cruelness of the world.  Tommy, however?  Tommy was the way he was just to be that way.  He was arrogant and brutish just for the sake of being arrogant and brutish.  You had come to learn that high school was like the wild jungles of Africa that you had read so much about.  The popular crowd was a pride of lions.  There was one alpha male with two or three betas and a large amount of lionesses around them.  Billy was currently that alpha male, if only because he knew otherwise he’d be eaten by the other lions.  Tommy was the beta lion that had been gunning for the alpha male position for years, though it was always just barely out of reach.  He wanted it just for the satisfaction of having clawed his way to the top.

You, however?  You were a lioness that was kept around just because she was barely useful.  You came along with Nancy when Steve had been the alpha male, being drug up through the ranks along with her.  Now?  Now you were practically on your own.

And Tommy knew that.  “I’m just saying--a few days ago you couldn’t get far enough away from the, uh...  the ‘crazy bitch,’ as you called her?”  He smirked back at Carol, who had somehow found her way to you as well.  “And now you can’t seem to get enough of her.”

However, Billy seemed to have different plans.  “Hey, Tommy, how about you shove it where the sun doesn’t shine?”  You could practically see the blood boiling in his veins as he stepped forward towards the other boy.

Tommy looked like he was about to retort, but you suddenly felt a burst of courage and stepped forward.  “No.  Tommy?  How about you mind your own damn business, alright?  And stop hanging onto the coattails of every other so-called ‘King’ of Hawkins.  You’re never going to get that spot.  You’re nothing but a little jackass.”

Billy was watching you with awe in his eyes as you stormed off, quickly following after you.  When you got to your first hour, you finally turned to look at him to comment on how much of an asshole Tommy was when he suddenly pulled you into a kiss.  “That was totally bad ass,” he murmured against your lips.

“Yeah?  It wasn’t too much?”  You leaned back to look at him sheepishly, your cheeks a dark red.

He shook his head no, pulling you into another kiss.  “No.  No, that was amazing.  He needed to be put in his place.”

You took a few steps back, teasingly holding your hands up in surrender.  “I’m a crazy bitch, huh?”

Billy immediately began to shake his head no, following after you.  “No, no, no, no!  I said that before!  When I was being a dick!  But I didn’t mean it, I promise!”

You giggled, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.  “I believe you, love.  Now get to class.”  You gasped as he smacked your ass playfully, whirling to glare at him while he walked away laughing.

The rest of the day seemed to pass normally, with all of Billy’s crew giving you a wide berth now that you had put Tommy in his place.  Hell, the next few days went by so quietly you didn’t know what to do with yourself.  However, Steve had been pulling away from you, and so had Nancy.  It made you anxious anytime they were away from you, which was more and more often.  You just wanted to know what was going on.

It finally came to a head a few days later.  You were in the bath when the phone rang.  You heard your mother, home for probably about two weeks before her and your dad’s next business trip, pick it up.  “Y/N!  It’s for you!”

Frowning, you pulled yourself out of the hot, sudsy water, wrapping yourself in a robe before going downstairs to take the phone from her.  “Hello?”

“Y/N!”  Max’s frantic voice filled your ear, and you were automatically much more alert than you had been just moments before.  “Y/N, we need you to come here.  Now.”

“Max?!  Where are you?!  What’s going on?!”  You clutched the phone desperately, your heart racing.

Your parents knew about Max and Billy and how close you had become with them over the summer.  Hell, they had been over for dinner enough at your grandmother’s that they were practically considered part of the family now.  Your mom poked her head around the corner.  Concern was written all over her face as her eyebrows knitted together.  “Y/N, is everything okay?”

Max’s ragged breathing was coming over heavily.  “It’s Billy.”  You felt your heart stop in your chest.  “We’re at the Byers’.  Him and Steve got into a fight and now he’s knocked out but we really need you here because we really have to go!”

“What the hell is going on?!  Max, how did this happen?!”  You were growing more and more panicked with every passing second, your heart pounding against your rib cage.

“Just get here, okay?!”

You looked at the phone in shock as Max hung up, slamming it onto the receiver before bounding up the stairs.  You got dressed in record time before running back downstairs.  “Mom, I need the car.  Please.”

She must’ve been able to see how frantic you were, because she passed over the keys without hesitation.  “Let me know what’s going on!”  She called after you as you bolted out the door.

You were lucky that there were no cops on the road as you sped to the Byers’.  You were going way over the speed limit in your rush.  The tires squealed as you slammed on the brakes, pulling into the Byers’ driveway.  Steve’s car and Billy’s car were both there.  You threw the car in park before running up the steps.  Before you could even knock, the door flung open and Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Max all ran out.  Dustin and Mike were carrying Steve out.  “Max?!  What the hell happened?!”  You were watching them with wide e/c eyes.  You didn’t even know how to respond to the scene in front of you.

“Billy went nuts and tried to kill Lucas!”  Max shouted back at you as they ran for the blue Camaro.  “Him and Steve got into a fight so I tranquilized him!”

“You tranquilized him?!”  You stood there in shock as they all got into the car, Max climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the key.  When it was obvious that they weren’t going to give you any more information, you ran inside the house to see Billy lying on the ground.  Rushing to him, you checked for a pulse, only relaxing when you felt the slow, steady beat.

You then slowly looked around.  The Byers’ household was in tatters.  There were drawings of black and purple lines all over.  Shattered glass covered the ground.  You knocked away the syringe that had been jabbed into Billy’s neck, your hands trembling.  You caressed his cheek slowly, tears springing to your eyes.  He was covered in blood and bruises, his shirt having been torn open at some point.  God, you were so angry.  So, so angry.  But you had a while before he woke up, so you figured you might as well help Joyce Byers out a little.

Leaving Billy where he was lying on the hardwood floor, you went to the hallway closet and found a broom.  You swept up the kitchen and the living room, tossing away all the dirt into the trashcan.  You picked up the furniture that had been knocked over, picking up the drawings that had fallen to the floor and setting them in a pile on the coffee table.

It took about an hour for Billy to wake up.  By that time, you were sitting on the couch and flipping through a magazine.  He groaned quietly as he started to stir.  “I’d suggest staying down there for a bit.”

“What the hell happened?”  He pushed his blonde curls back, his eyes squeezed shut.

You stood up, throwing the magazine back onto the couch.  “You want me to tell you what the hell happened?!  Well, you see, I only got an overview because Max and her friends were carrying Steve’s bloody, unconscious body out to your Camaro--which they took, by the way.”  You began to pace back and forth, feeling your blood start to boil.  “But from what I’ve heard--from the sister you said you were going to stop being a dick to--is that you tried to beat up a thirteen year old boy for hanging out with Max.”  You turned to pointedly glare at Billy, who had now sat up and was watching you with huge blue eyes.  He knew that they usually got you to cave and forgive him.  “Do you realize what I just said, Billy?  You tried beating up a thirteen year old boy.  I just...  I don’t even know what to do with you anymore, Billy.  She called me to babysit you so you wouldn’t try to follow them.  What the hell is wrong with you?”

Billy slowly stood up, wincing.  “Baby, I’m so sorry...  I...  I don’t know what to say...  I just...”

You held up a hand, stopping him.  “No, Billy.  We’re done.”  Tears were filling your eyes as you wrapped your arms around yourself.  “I thought you had changed.  I thought you were back to being the old Billy.”  You began to head for the door.  “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

He ran after you as you walked to your mom’s car, keys in hand.  “Y/N!  Y/N, please, don’t go!  I’m sorry!”  As you got in the driver’s side and turned the ignition, Billy was knocking on your window.  You tried to stop yourself from looking up at him, but your heart broke as soon as you did.  His face was streaked with tears as he watched you.  “Y/N?  Y/N, please?”

You shook your head, trying to strengthen your resolve as you threw the car into reverse.  Your headlights stayed on Billy as you backed up.  You wiped your eyes as you pulled out of the Byers’ driveway.  You eventually gave up trying to wipe away your tears as you drove home.

Your mom opened the door when she saw you pull in, standing at the top of the steps.  “Y/N?  Sweetie, what happened?”  All you could do was burst into tears as you collapsed into her arms.  She held onto you, running her fingers through your hair soothingly as she shut the door.  Your mom kept whispering that things would be okay, but the feeling in your heart said otherwise.  She pulled you to the couch, pulling you up against her.  “If you’re hurting this much, is he even worth it, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know, mom.  I don’t know.”

Tag List: @kaliforniacoastalteens  @4-a-m @southsideserpentslut @username-number-01834 @aroyaldarknessblr @marvelite1998 @babygirlizz @hippie-taco-lady

[mf-despair-queen]

Lucky Number 24 - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @mf-despair-queen​

Characters: Stiles Stilinski/Reader

Word Count: 5008

Warnings: Smut

Notes: Lacrosse Week Special for my favorite bby, Stiles. I can’t believe I just wrote this. I never intended for it to actually turn into that but I got to the point I wanted to, and kinda couldn’t stop from there.

Stiles stared at the jersey laying on his bed, the large, white ‘24’ staring back at him, as if it was mocking his entire existence. Tracing his fingers over the numbers, he questioned if they meant anything to him.

He always thought of the number 24 as his lucky number. Ever since his mom bought him his first 24 pack of crayons in elementary school, everything was about the number 24 to him. He was ecstatic when he was given the number 24 when he joined the lacrosse team at Beacon Hills High School. He thought it was fate, and that his life was going uphill at that point. High school life was going to be the best because he had his lucky number on his back.

Oh, how he had been wrong.

Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his computer chair. He pushed away from his bed and started to spin around in the chair, thinking about all the bad luck the number had given him.

He could list numerous things that have happened since he was given that ‘24’ jersey that fateful day in freshman year.

He played a total of zero games his freshman year, being deemed the benchwarmer of the team with his friend, Scott. He also couldn’t count the number of times he was wacked in the face or stomach with lacrosse balls.

Come sophomore year, Scott was no long a benchwarmer with him. Instead, he was a teen wolf, who nearly mauled Stiles to death on more than one occasion. He nearly drowned in a pool with his least favorite sour wolf because Jackass…I mean Jackson became a kanima and stalked the pool for over two hours. When he finally got the chance to play and even scored the winning goal, he was beat up by some crazy grandpa.

When lacrosse season was over, he was forced to join the cross-country team. Still held no advantages to him, of course. They found dead bodies in the woods. Scott needed to be stitched up in a rest stop bathroom on a trip to a cross-country meet. He was nearly set on fire trying to save Scott when Scott had some crazy hallucinations on wolfsbane. He had to help save his dad from being sacrificed, resulting in him being possessed by an evil fox spirit, known as a Nogitsune. The Nogitsune even killed Allison and Aiden, which Stiles still blamed himself for.

When lacrosse season started back up, they had to worry about psycho assassins that wanted to kill supernatural creatures. Even though he himself was not a supernatural creature, he had to worry about his friends, especially when one of the killers was on the lacrosse team and was stabbing people with a blade hidden in the lacrosse stick. Scott’s new beta, Liam, joined the team around that time and seemed to outplay him in every aspect, even though Stiles had a couple years of experience on him. That didn’t do anything to help his self-esteem in the lacrosse matter. It just got worse throughout the year when he was being threatened and hunted by the Desert Wolf because she thought he was a “thing” with Malia (though he had already reassured Malia that he had no romantic attraction to her at all).

Stiles stopped spinning in his chair and grabbed his phone, glancing at the text that displayed brightly in front of his face.

[5:14 PM] I am on my way over. Can’t wait to see you play tonight!

Stiles smiled slightly at the text. His best female friend, Y/N. She was always there for him when he needed it. She was probably his biggest supporter when it came to lacrosse. She showed up to every game, cheered him on every time. She would even cheer him on when he was sitting on the bench, chewing anxiously on his glove during the game.

She always told him how lucky he was and that, one day, the number 24 would come through for him. Her bright smile always seemed to reassure him when he felt that things weren’t going right. Sometimes, she would even sneak down and sit with him on the bench.

“One day, they will put you out there and they will see what they have been missing by keeping the number 24 on this stupid bench. You will be the best person on the field and everyone will be so jealous!” She would laugh as she said this, holding his hand and cheering the team on.

She was too perfect for him and he didn’t want to let her down.

The doorbell rang and Stiles quickly ran down the stairs, slipping slightly on the rug as he jumped the last few steps. He opened the front door to reveal the girl that was constantly on his mind.

She smiled at him, shifting from one foot to the other. “Hey Stiles. Why aren’t you ready yet? I thought you wanted to head to the school early so you could get a little bit of practice with Scott before the game.”

“Yeah yeah. I was just about to change when you showed up,” Stiles chuckled, moving aside so she could come in. He quickly took in her attire as she walked in, removing her shoes. She wore some simple booty shorts that seemed to show off her ass perfectly. Her hair was up, probably to keep it out of her face as she cheered for them from the stands. But what caught his eye the most was that she was wearing a Beacon Hills Lacrosse jersey, the number 24 showing brightly on her back and the name “Stilinski” right about that. “Are you wearing my jersey?”

She turned to him before giving a small spin. “Yeah. I might have borrowed it from your closet the last time I was over. You know, when we were studying for that math test a last week? I wanted to have something to help support you during the game tonight. Doesn’t it look good on me though?”

Stiles glanced over her form one more time, swallowing quickly before he was tempted to drool on the floor right there. He had to admit, it looked better on her than it did on him. Even if it was baggy, it worked perfectly on her body. He nodded at her, “So that’s where my back-up jersey went. Definitely looks better on you than it does on me, though.”

She blushed brightly, not expecting him to actually say something like that. He didn’t even realize he had said it till he started making his way up the stairs, stopping halfway. Shit, he thought to himself. He might have just said something he never wanted to say to her face.

He ran up the rest of the stairs, two at a time. “I will be down in just a sec! Let me get changed and we will go!” He yelled back at her. He didn’t hear a response, but assumed she would just make herself comfortable while she waited. He changed into his lacrosse uniform before rushing back downstairs with his gear.

She was seated on the couch, but rushed over to him when she noticed him crash into that wall because he slipped on the rug this time. He laughed and tugged her out the door to Roscoe, his faithful jeep. He opened the door for her before climbing in and driving them to the school for the game.

The silence in the car was palpable, probably because of the awkward comment he had made. He just kept his eyes on the road, not daring to glance at the beauty in the passenger seat.

“Are you ready to show them how good number 24 is?” She glanced at him and noticed the small smile tug at his lips from her question. It was the same smile she fell in love with all those years ago.

She stared at his face, waiting for a response. She memorized the moles lining the side of his face. She saw the sparkle in his honey eyes as he contemplated exactly how to respond. She noticed how his hands seemed to grip the steering wheel tighter, making the veins in his hands stick out more than usual.

Stiles licked his lips briefly, but grinned and laughed as he answered, “Well, I don’t want to jinx anything. But today might very well be the day that you see me shine the brightest on that field.”

She smiled and grabbed one of his hands off the steering wheel, holding it tightly as he drove. “I sure hope so. Everyone should know how amazing you are.”

He glanced at their hands, not questioning the action. He gripped her hand tightly, not bothering to respond. There was no need.

“Come on, Stiles. You haven’t caught one single ball or made one decent shot today. We practiced for this. What is going on with you today?” Scott eyed him and pat his friend on the shoulder. Stiles just groaned and started picking up the balls that he was surrounded by.

“I’m not sure. I guess I have a lot going on in my mind right now.”

Scott smirked and nudged him slightly. “Are you sure it’s not because of a certain girl you arrived with earlier?”

Stiles nearly freaked out in his normal Stiles fashion. “I-I don’t know what you are talking about!”

Scott scoffed and tossed a ball at him. Stiles caught it, eying Scott as he continued returning the balls to the bag they brought. “You forget that I am a werewolf, Stiles,” Scott said. “I heard your heart jump when you said that.”

Stiles cursed himself before sparing a glance at the girl in the stands. She was chatting happily with Malia about god knows what, but it seemed to brighten his mood as he saw her laugh at something Malia said. Scot nudged him again and nodded to the girl in the stands. “Why don’t you just tell her how you feel already?”

Stiles let out a groan, kicking the grass under his feet in frustration. “You know I could never do that. She would never feel the same way about me. And I don’t want to risk losing my friendship with her because I love her.”

Scott just shook his head. “Whatever you say. Can you finish cleaning these up? I need to go ask Kira something really quick.” Stiles waved him off, and continued packing up the gear they brought to practice.

He placed it on the bench, glancing around. His jaw dropped slightly when he noticed Scott wasn’t talking to Kira. He was talking to Y/N. Stiles began to mentally freak out when he saw her nod at Scott and her eyes shifted to Stiles. He blushed and turned away, pretending that he didn’t see them talking.

She briskly walked over to him and sat on the bench, pick up a ball from the bag. “So…” She began slowly. Stiles glanced at her, waiting for her to continue. “Scott says you were having trouble concentrating during your practice.”

That’s an understatement, Stiles thought to himself, cynically. He had zero concentration on the matter at hand today.

“He was worried about you, so he asked if I could give you a little…inspiration before the game.”

“Inspiration?” Stiles looked at her, confusion evident on his face.

She nodded before grabbing his hand and leading him under the bleachers. She shoved him against the railing slightly, leaning into him. Her chest brushed his lightly, causing him to blush and let out a small grunt.

His mind wandered to movie scenes, when the jock and cheerleader would make out under the bleachers. That couldn’t possibly be her “inspiration,” right?

She ran her fingers up his chest, messing with the material of his jersey as she did. Her hand came to a rest on his shoulder, massaging it slightly. He let out a small moan and she glanced up at him, staring into his hazel eyes.

She leaned up to him, her lips nearly atop his as she began to speak again. “Yeah. Inspiration. You know, just some divine intervention to help you get you head in the game.”

He licked his lips slightly, trying not to lick hers in the process. “Well, what did you have in mind?”

She smiled and moved closer to his ear. “I wanted to give you something to think about during the game. Whenever you start to get distracted, just think about me. Maybe even…think about me…naked?”

Stiles gulped and let out a ragged breath, placing a hand on her waist and gripping it tightly. She nipped at his ear, and pulled away slowly, looking up at him. She trailed her hand down his arm, grabbing at his bicep gently and helped him ease his hand from her waist.

“I hope that helps. Maybe if you win, I can give you a nice reward.” She turned on her heel, giving him a quick wink, and ran off, leaving him standing there breathless and with a ranging hard on.

The sound of the whistle broke him from any thoughts he had. He quickly readjusted himself before emerging from under the bleachers and heading to the bench. Scott gave him a smirk, only resulting in a glare from Stiles and punch in the arm.

The game seemed to be one of his better ones. Contrary to how he was when he was with Scott before the game, Stiles actually made every shot he had been given. He caught every ball that was thrown his way. Maybe the “inspiration” he was given prior to the game helped? Every time he started getting sidetracked, he thought about what she said. He even thought about her…naked of course.

The last 30 seconds of the game were the most nerve wracking for Stiles. The game was tied. This was the only chance he had to show Y/N that he could do this. That he could be her lucky number 24 like she always said he was.

He caught the ball and took off towards the goal. Scott helped block the enemy team from getting to Stiles. Once in range, Stiles prepared the shot, pausing ever so briefly to think about what was going on.

Was this it? Was he going to do it?

“Shoot the ball already, Stiles!” Her voice broke through the air and he smiled as he shot the ball, straight passed the goalie’s stick and into the net of the goal. The buzzer roared as the crowd went wild. Beacon Hills just won. Stiles had won.

Scott nearly jumped on him, patting him on the back and congratulating him on the winning shot. This was only the second-time Stiles ever scored the winning shot, but it was the first time he felt that he truly had won.

Removing his helmet, he turned to the bleachers but couldn’t find her anywhere. She wouldn’t have left him like that, right?

Amid the rush, a figure tackled him, hugging his waist tightly. Looking down, he noticed her hugging him, nearly jumping up and down as she cheering for him. “You did it, Stiles!” She looked up at him, closing her eyes, her smile bigger than ever. “I knew you could do it. You showed them that lucky number 24 is not to be messed with. You were so great out there!”

He hugged her tightly, picking her up by the waist and spinning her around. She let out a laugh and they spun. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N.”

As they stopped spinning, they just stopped and stared at each other silently. Stiles brought a hand to her face, brushing a piece of hair that had fallen out of her face, and resting his hand on her cheek. She just leaned into it and let out a breath, relaxing to his touch. “I will always be here for you, Stiles.”

He swallowed and leaned in a bit closer, making her look at him. “You better.”

With that, he leaned in and kissed her. She instantly relaxed and kissed him back, their lips molded together and moving in sync. They ignored the wolf whistles they got from some of the guys on the team and they continued.

His tongue licks her lips quickly, asking for permission to enter. She gladly allowed it, as she wrapped her arms around his neck, playing with the hairs on his neck. He moaned into her mouth, as his tongue wrestled with hers for dominance. His arms found their way around her waist, his hands moving the shirt out of the way and resting on the skin of her lower back. He felt her shiver slightly at the touch, making him smile into the kiss.

The kiss broke slowly, both with their eyes closed and left breathless from the action. Stiles leaned his forehead on hers and kissed her nose lightly. “We should get out of here.”

She just nodded and grabbed his hand, allowing him to lead her back to the jeep. Once inside, she grabbed his hand again, playing with his fingers and giving them a kiss occasionally.

“So…” Stiles started as he stopped at a red light. He looked over at her, and gave her hand a squeeze. “What does this mean, exactly?”

She blinked and leaned back in her seat, thinking of what to say to him exactly. “I thought that was obvious, I guess. I mean, you are the one that kissed me first, right?” Stiles shrugged at the comment, allowing her to continue. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

“How long is a while?” He glanced at her, licking his lips in anticipation for the answer.

“Since the day you shared your 24 pack of crayons with me when we were coloring.”

Stiles choked, coughing loudly and did a double to the girl next to him. “Really? That was like…1st grade, wasn’t it?” She nodded timidly, staring out the window to avoid his gaze. “Wow. That’s…a long time.”

“I didn’t realize that I had a crush on you till sometime in middle school. I always had this feeling that there was something different about you. Something…special I guess you could say. You always made me happy and before I knew it, you were all I could think about. Every guy I would meet, I would subconsciously compare to you. In my mind, you were perfection.”

He ran his hand through his hair and smiled. “That’s kind of sweet, actually. At least I wasn’t alone in that respect.” She looked at him questioningly. “I may or may not have had a crush on you since third grade?”

“I thought you liked Lydia.”

“That may have been a cover so you wouldn’t actually find out.”

She smiled at him and leaned over, kissing his cheek as he drove. His breath hitched slightly as he felt her hand trail up his thigh and over the growing bulge in his pants. “Um, Y/N? I’m trying to drive right now. What are you doing?”

She nibbled his ear lightly and kissed her way down to his neck. “Giving you your reward. I did say if we won, I would give you a reward, didn’t I?” He didn’t get a chance to respond, as he let out a moan when she bit at his neck gently and gripped his bulge through his pants. His foot unconsciously hit the gas pedal a bit harder, until he realized he was nearing 60 mph down the street.

“You should really stop, Y/N.” He almost couldn’t get the words out, trying to suppress another moan in the process.

She licked his neck, placing kisses along his neck. “Then you might want to hurry and get us back to your house. Good thing you dad has the late shift, huh?”

He couldn’t have driven any faster at that point. As soon as he hit the driveway, Roscoe was thrown into park and Stiles was picking up the girl from her seat. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted her from the jeep, slamming the door harder than necessary. He fumbled for his house key as she kissed him roughly on the lips. It took a sec to get the door open, closing it soon after as he shoved her against the door.

She groaned at the impact, gripping his shoulders as he moved is head to her neck, kissing and sucking as he went. She shuffled lightly, trying to escape his grasp until he finally gave in and let her go. She gave him a wink and pulled the jersey she wore over her head. He stared at her, eyes scanning over her almost naked top and licked his lips, shifting his bulge a bit in his pants.

She dropped the jersey and made her way to the stairs. Glancing back at him, she seductively said, “Well, are you coming up with me or not?”

Stiles ran after her, avoiding the rug completely as her dashed up the stairs. He grabbed her by the waist and threw her on the bed, kicking his door shut and pulling his own jersey over his head.

She shamelessly looked over his torso. Lacrosse had done him good over the years. Sure, he may not be the most toned person in the world, but he definitely had muscles in the right places. His biceps rippled as he pulled the jersey over his head, and the evidence of an incoming six pack was showing. He jumped on her and kissed her passionately, his hand finding its way to her waist and tracing indiscernible patterns on her skin. She moaned at the feeling and started to mess with the waist band on his pants.

He moved his head down, kissing between her breasts and relishing in the moans that reached his ears. Reaching behind her, he unhooked her bra and threw it somewhere in his room, not caring where it landed. He stared at the sight in front of him before capturing one of her erect nipples in his mouth, running his tongue around it greedily. His hand found the other, tweaking the nipple between his fingers. Her moans got even louder, to the point that she was nearly screaming his name.

He kissed down her stomach, kissing along the waistband of her shorts before he unbuttoned them and slid them down her legs. He kissed the insides of her thighs before kissing her clothed heat.

“Damn, baby. You are already wet. I haven’t even done anything yet.” She shook at the way he spoke. It sounded so different coming from him. It made her even more wet, as he tugged the wet material down her legs and dropped them on the floor next to his bed. With one last kiss to her thigh, he licked a quick stripe up her folds and attached his lips to her clit. She screamed his named and gripped his hair.

He ran his tongue over her clit repeatedly, groaning as she clutched at his hair harder each time. Bringing a hand up, he ran a finger through her folds before sticking it in slowly, swirling it around and feeling her clench slightly at the feeling. He slowly pumped his finger before adding a second and increasing his pace. He kitten-licked her clit as he pumped, curling his fingers to hit her g-spot. She let out more screams, his name very prominent on her lips. Her walls clenched around his fingers before he pulled out.

She let out a whimper as he watched him through half-lidded eyes as he sat up and lick his fingered clean. She let out a few pants as she watched him.

“You taste really good. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

She could have cum right there from his words, but held it back as she pulled him down and flipped over so she was on top. She leaned down to his ear and whispered quietly, “It’s my turn to please you, baby.”

He shivered at her words and she kissed down his chest, tracing the outline of his abs with her tongue. She pulled down his pants and boxers in one shot, allowing his cock to slap his stomach, pre-cum already dripping from the swollen tip.

She gaped at it slightly, swallowing a bit to ease her dry throat. “You’re…definitely…well endowed. How do you hide this normally?” She traced her fingers along the shaft, her feather-like tough causing him to groan.

“It’s definitely not the easiest task,” He started, moaning as she gripped his cock in her hand. “It’s going be even harder to do every time I’m around you, now.”

She grinned and licked his tip, allowing him to moan her name softly. Taking him fully in her mouth, his moans just got louder. She pumped him quickly as she sucked, her tongue running along the underside of his cock, feeling the pulsing veins. His hand found the back of her head, guiding her and she pumped him, hollowing her mouth for his pleasure. Her tongue swirled around his tip before he pulled out of her mouth, a trail a pre-cum dripping down the corner of her mouth. He watched her tongue dart out, flicking the trail before it would escape too far.

He groaned and gripped himself, pumping his cock. “As hot as that was baby, I want to feel you around me. I want to come inside of your tight, little pussy.”

She reached over to his bedside table, pulling out the foil packet and handing it to him. He gave her a look, as if questioning how she knew where they were. She grinned and kissed his lips. “I stumbled across them once when I was trying to find a pencil to work on my homework. I didn’t question. You’re a big boy and can fuck whoever you want.”

His eyes darkened a bit as he flipped her over, tearing the packet open with his teeth and slipping the condom on. He kissed her lips quickly, nuzzling his head in her neck. “Well let me assure you, I only want to fuck you.”

He lined himself up with her folds and she nodded when he looked at her, giving her consent. He pushed in slowly, hearing her moan and her nails gripped his biceps. He gripped her thigh, bringing her leg up against his hip as he started rocking his hips against hers. A filthy, loud moan escaped her mouth as he grunted.

He started rocking faster and harder, his cock digging deep into her pussy. Her walls clenched around him, so he closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her tight pussy around her his cock.

“Oh baby. You are so tight. I knew you would feel good but this is incredible.” He slammed into her, his name erupting from her lips and he gripped his shoulders, clawing at his back in the process. He flipped her over so she was on top, leaning u to kiss her. “Now, I want to feel you ride me.”

She nodded and began to thrust her hips into his slowly. He groaned and gripped her waist, helping her move her hips along his. Her moans were loud as she began to bounce more on his cock. Her tits bounced as she moved, one of her hands reaching down and playing with her nipples.

Stiles groaned at the sight, and shifted his position slightly so he could watch the watch his cock would slip in and out of her. He could see her juices coat the condom around him, eliciting a grunt from him as he leaned his head back on his pillows.

His hand reached down and started to mess with her clit, rubbing circles on it as they moaned in unison.

“Stiles,” He whimpered, clenching around him more often as she moved. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it baby,” he whispered to her, rubbing her clit faster than before. “I want to feel you cum around my hard cock. Cum as hard as you can.”

Her body shook as she clenched around him more than before. She screamed his name and came, her juices flowing down his cock. He groaned and took over thrusting up into her, helping her ride out her high. His thrusts were growing sloppy as he was nearing his peak. Pulling her down into a sloppy kiss, he came, cock twitching as he filled the condom.

They broke the kiss slowly as he slowed down, cock easing from his orgasm. A small string of saliva connected to two before they shared a small kiss as he pulled from her. Removing the condom, he tied it and tossed it in the trash beside his bed.

Leaning back, he pulled her onto his chest and pulled the blanket over both of them.

“That was beyond amazing,” he told her as he kissed her forehead. “I love you so much.”

She smiled and looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest. “I love you too, Stiles.” She traced her fingers in circles on his chest. “Guess 24 really is lucky.”

He leaned down, giving her one last kiss and running his hand through her hair. “Maybe you’re right. But it’s only lucky for me when you are wearing it. So, make sure you wear my jersey all the time.”

She giggled and nuzzled into his chest. “You know that’s not going to be possible, right?”

He chuckled, humoring her. “Oh really? Why do you say that?”

“Because every time I wear it, you’re just going to want to rip it from me anyway.”

Stiles thought about it for a sec before replying, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Maybe that’s where the luck comes in.”

She shook her head at him. “You’re ridiculous, Stiles.” She gave him one last look before getting comfortable to sleep. “You also act WAY different in bed.”

[halfworldguardian]

The Chain: Chapter 2

Silence befell the city of Zombabia. In the highest room of one of the ritzier hotels, the suite had been spoken for in the name of the Guardians that decided forking over a little extra cash for the occasion to get a nice, big room to share between the six of them wasn't such a bad idea. At least for those that had a little too much the night before. Each Guardian occupied a piece of the large room in their own way with Peter passed out on the couch, Drax across the marble floor, Groot in the bathroom where his vines were climbing the walls and spilling into the main room, and Mantis only halfway hanging off the king-sized bed. One by one they began to stir, Peter being the first to sit up groggily with a hand to his aching head. Blinking a few times to clear his foggy vision, he looked around the room and found Gamora sitting nicely at the table, eating a muffin-like pastry she grabbed from the complementary kitchenette and sipping at a mug of coffee. Starlord squinted at her long and hard, gathering his scrambled thoughts before speaking. When he did manage to find a voice it was hoarse and coated with sickness.

“You tricked me.”

“How did I trick you?” Gamora was obviously amused and smiled, but kept eating her muffin and looking like a queen among queens despite their rough night.

“You didn't party hard enough.”

“I partied the right amount so that I had fun but also could keep an eye on the rest of you.” She finished off her breakfast and threw the wrapper away in the bin beside the table. “Besides, that's how I got the upper hand in the poker game last night.”

“Sneaky.” Peter rubbed at his hair, which was sticking up in all directions of crazy and he scanned the room to account for each of their team members. Make sure everyone was there and healthy...Healthy-ish.

Gamora at the table, Drax on the floor, Groot's vines coming out of the bathroom, Mantis in bed, and... “Where's Rocket?”

Gamora had her coffee mug to her lips, so when she replied she simply pointed a finger to the ceiling for Peter to follow. When he looked up he could see a fluffy, striped tail hanging out the side of the suite's bowl-shaped, porcelain chandelier. He'd even dragged a pillow up there with him. One clawed-hand hung out the rim of the chandelier with a half-drunken bottle still miraculously being gripped in it. “Right. Okay.”

Peter put his face in his hands, hunched over and trying to rub the migraine away that he was feeling. Mantis was the next one up, the bug-like woman making a surprised gasp as she fell the rest of the way off the bed and wearily sat up on the marble. One hand was to her mouth and the other to her stomach, looking between Gamora and Peter pleadingly. “I am not well.”

“Go throw up, honey. You'll feel better.” Gamora pointed to the bathroom. Peter was only just now noticing that there was water creeping along the floor.

“Throw up? Is it not healthy to--” Mantis stopped mid-sentence, clasping both hands to her mouth and shakily getting up to dash for the bathroom. Peter cringed at the noises that followed, but thankfully Groot had woken up by now and reached a vine out to help hold her hair back from where he'd been bummed out in the large bathtub. It was full to the brim with cold water and it splashed over the side whenever he moved.

Drax was the next one to get up, but the man only seemed mildly put off by the aftereffects from their night out and made his way to the kitchenette to get a towel damp. After dabbing his face in the cold water to help wake himself up, he noted Gamora's coffee and nodded at her. “Have you already gone down to the buffet?”

“Made this here. I thought I'd wait up on you guys.” Finishing off her mug Gamora went to put it in the sink and wash it off so that the room-keepers would have a little less to take care of, outside of their room being obviously trashed. There were cans and bottles everywhere, sheets pulled off the bed, cushions on the floor, a few of the Dororian equivalent to pizza boxes, Groot had flooded the bathroom, one of the windows had a perfect hole seared through it, and a single board game of “Monopoly” was spread out on the table. No one actually got around to playing it because Peter and Rocket wouldn't stop fighting between themselves over who got to be the car piece.

Because of his short stature, Rocket was the lightweight of the group and took the beating the hardest at the end of the night, so Peter had to get up and actually check to make sure he hadn't died of alcohol poisoning. Grabbing a broom, one that had no business being in the middle of the floor, Peter walked up under the chandelier and knocked the bottle from Rocket's hand, just managing to catch it before it shattered on the floor. Next he prodded the arm itself. “Hey... Hey, Rocket!”

“Sssshhffffmmurg...” Was the response he got and the raccoon rolled over, the chandelier swaying and threatening to fall.

“Rise and shine, jackass. You realize you're hanging from the ceiling, right?”

“Mildly aware.” Rocket groaned, lifting his head enough to rest his cheek against the rim of his improvised bed and looked down at Peter. “S'up?”

“You. Now get down.”

“Can't. Used Groot to get up here.”

“You're a cybernetically enhanced, twenty-three-time prison escapee. You're telling me you can't jump?”

“Can you?”

Peter thought about it a moment. He willed his brain to make his feet hop even an inch off the floor, but his legs weren't listening. He tilted his head at the raccoon with a raised brow. “Fair enough. Groot? Can you come help the furry baby when you got a moment?”

“Fuck you too, Quill.” Rocket slipped back into the bowl to get a couple more minutes of sleep until Groot could retrieve him.

Once things were situated between the Guardians it was time to attempt social interaction by heading down to the hotel's buffet on the ground floor, which came free with the suite and they each had a pass to show for it. The room was picked up to an extent, though there wasn't a lot they could do about the hole in the window and flooding. The crew washed and cleaned themselves up enough to be presentable in public, though Starlord insisted he wear the room's fuzzy pink slippers and robe down to the lobby and couldn't be convinced out of it. The majority of them were about as sharp as pillows, save for Gamora, and were quiet on the elevator, a ride that Groot had to sit down to occupy. It wasn't until they'd passed the lobby and entered the buffet that anything seemed particularly off about the place.

The Guardians stood in the middle of the restaurant, the room decked out with Sunset Festival themed decorations with silk banners of blue and purple hanging from the ceiling along with a painted full moon mural on the back wall. There were star speckled, navy blue sheets covering the tables with perfectly round lamps at each center, glowing florescent blue potted plants along the walls, and strobe lights flashing inside of a large water fountain in the middle of the grandiose room. The only thing missing was the guests.

“...Weird.” Starlord turned a full three-sixty to see where everyone had gone. “Are we late...early? It's hard to tell.”

“It shouldn't matter. Its twenty-four hour entry for the festival for the next few days.” Gamora had her hand to the sword-hilt on her belt, tapping it anxiously and listening for any sign of life. For a hotel in the middle of a city-wide celebration, everything was eerily quiet.

“There's food out.” Drax observed by picking up a drumstick from one of the trays along the buffet line of some kind of cooked bird and started eating it. “It's hot too.”

Peter was about to suggest that there was an event they could have been missing when he glanced at the window peaking into the back kitchen of the restaurant and saw smoke seeping out of it.

“Oh, shit! Drax!” Peter waved an arm at him since he was closest, Drax turning and at the sight of the smoke jumped over the counter and ran into the kitchen. Peter went after him with his pink bathrobe flying behind him, the two finding a pan on one of the stoves with food that had caught fire and not a single person to watch over it. Ignoring how concerning that was for the moment, Drax smothered the fire with a large pan lid and Peter ran around the kitchen turning similar devices off that had just been left to run with the food burning. Had they been there five minutes too late the whole restaurant would have caught fire. Coughing, the two stumbled out of the kitchen after the food had been taken care of and left the door open so it would air out.

The others waited outside the kitchen anxiously, but keeping an eye on them through the open window, and when they piled back into the dining room Peter gasped a few times before pointing back to the smoking hell hole. “Th—there's no one back there! Who just leaves food on a running stove like that?!”

“You do.” Drax coughed and tried to regain his composure.

“Where did everyone go?” Mantis traveled her way through the tables, stopping at one that had obviously been occupied and picked up a colorful stuffed animal of some species. A child's toy with a fresh stain on it from a cup of knocked over fruit juice.

“This is about seven-different levels of creepy.” Rocket had been hanging off Groot's shoulders and stood up to get a sniff at things, but the smoke was clouding any scent he may have picked up from someone close by. “Did we even see any staff coming down here?”

“No.” Gamora replied simply and began to walk out of the dining room and back into the main lobby. Still no soul in sight, not even at the front desks. There were personal belongings, such as luggage and and handbags, unattended on the lounge seats and floors, as well as a running fireplace. Peter was quick to run over to that first and turn it off just in case. When he'd finished he spun around with his arms out and then tugged at his own hair in distress. “What. The. HELL?!”

“Oh, yeah, this is absolutely terrible.” Rocket mumbled as he hopped up onto one of the couches and started digging through a very nice leather purse. His captain corrected it before he could pull anything out.

“Rocket, put that down!”

“What? Its their fault they just left it sitting out like this. That's negligence.” Rocket shrugged, looking genuinely surprised that Quill saw this as misbehaving and waved a wallet at the human. “Come on, there's like six-hundred cash in here.”

“I found a necklace!” Mantis said excitedly as she reached past the raccoon and pulled out a piece of expensive looking jewelry from the same bag.

“Mantis, not you too. What are you doing?”

“Rocket informed me of the 'finders keepers' rule. Is this not how it works?” She looked up at Peter with confused eyes, meanwhile Rocket had put a paw to his mouth and his shoulders quivered as he tried to repress a laugh.

“No, that's not a thing for us. Put it all back. God...” Peter rubbed at his neck aggressively and paced around the room. “It shouldn't even be an issue. What's happening right now is an issue. We could be under attack right now.” He stopped his pacing, took in a breath, and calmed himself down. “Okay. Let's take a quick peek outside. For all we know the hotel evacuated because of a gas leak and we slept through it. Just... stay wary. Stay cautious. Don't make any sudden movements when we walk through those doors.”

Peter approached the large, stainless steel door to the street and pushed it open a crack to get a look outside. Rocket hopped down from Groot's shoulder onto Quill's back and poked his nose out alongside him. It was still night, as expected of a city that would spend the next year in the dark, and all of the city lights were still on and illuminating the streets. Cars had been jammed together in an uncoordinated, dangerous line and some looked to be crashed into each other. However, it was a relief when the two saw that there were indeed people outside, and plenty of them. There didn't seem to be any loud noises or general panic, so Peter turned away from the door and nodded at the other Guardians. “Okay, everything seems fine. Just... casually walk out like nothing's happened and we'll politely ask someone why this hotel was evacuated. If officials ask why we're still in here we just say that we were blacked out and didn't hear the alarm or whatever. I'm sure we're not the only ones this happened to.”

“No, I'm pretty sure this crap only happens to us.” Rocket remarked as he hopped down from Peter's back.

Their leader opened the doors up and strolled out of the hotel towards the street, the Guardians still remaining cautious and looking every which way to determine what had gone wrong. Peter found a uniformed Dororian immediately on the sidewalk and approached him. “Excuse me, officer? We just came out of the Sal Lal hotel from one of the suites. Can you tell us what's happening in there?”

The Dororian officer, one that Rocket vaguely remembered as the one that rolled his vehicle in the ocean the night before, slowly turned to Peter and stared at the much taller man. Silently. Starlord waited for any kind of response from him, and even waved a hand in front of his eyes to garner a reflex reaction. It was beginning to get a little uncomfortable. “Um... Hello? Officer? You still kicking the night juice or what?”

The officer reached a hand out, his slitted bright violet eyes fixated on Peter as he grabbed the arm of Peter's bathrobe. Startled, he jolted back and tried to shrug his arm away, but the grip was iron tight and the Dororian wasn't letting go. “Dude, what's your problem?”

Other civilians were turning to stare at them just as deadpan as the officer had been. Without uttering a single word, they started to move in on the Guardians with their hands reaching. The entire street was catching onto them and followed the example of the others. Peter, thoroughly freaked out by now, slipped out of his robe so that the officer let go and was now standing outside in only a black concert-shirt and some boxer-shorts. Gamora, Drax, and Rocket stood full defense mode and reaching for their weapons, since Peter was the only one that neglected to bring his downstairs. As creepy as all of this was, the people moving in on them were still innocents and Peter motioned his friends to retreat. “Back inside! Back inside!”

He didn't have to tell them a third time, the Guardians slipping back into the hotel lobby with hearts racing and blood pumping from the unexpected scare. Hands reached passed the door and the people from the streets started to pile into the room, moving faster than they had before and urging the Guardians into a full run back where they'd came. Rocket stopped and hung back, resting his gun to his shoulder and taking aim, charging up to blast the oncoming crowd, but was quickly picked up by the back of his jacket collar by Groot and carried away. “I am Groot!”

“Innocent?! They're trying to attack us!”

“I am Groot!”

“Its a judgment call, and I'm judging that this is fucked up!”

The stairs were out of the question, but if they could get the elevator they could possibly lose them. Groot was last in, still carrying Rocket and squeezed in just as the doors were closing. The citizens from outside sprinted down the hall for them, Peter impatiently hitting the 'Close Door' button and sighing in relief when it shut just in time for the officer to slam straight into it with a thud. The elevator ride back up to their room was heavily contrasted to the one they'd taken earlier going down to the lobby. While then they had been quiet and half-asleep, this time around they were wide awake and yelling amongst themselves in a confused panic. Once they'd reached their floor, the Guardians stumbled out and ran for their room, piling in and locking it with no other people to be seen. Drax and Groot immediately made themselves busy by pushing various pieces of furniture in front of the door to barricade themselves in.

Gamora was just about as rattled as Peter was and the two were now frantically yelling at each other on the other side of the room. “What was THAT?!”

“I don't KNOW!” Peter had gone back into the hysterics, running to the large windows of their suite room and look down at the crowded streets bellow. Just bellow the building, people were still pouring into the Hotel after they'd left the lobby, but now that he'd gotten a better look any other part of the street they just stood there motionless. “Is...is it Zombies?”

“As in Zombabians?” Rocket asked.

“No, no, Zombies!” Peter whirled back around, his hands trying to animate his explanation. “They're undead monster people that rise from graves and try to eat your brains.”

Rocket's nose curled upward in disgust.“Crag, Quill, you got those on Earth? That's gross.”

“Not really, its fiction. They're only in movies and stuff.” Peter scratched the back of his neck, still jittery from their run. “But those people down there had all the same symptoms! Dead stare, moving in hoards, trying to grab the living--”

“They did not look dead.” Drax interrupted.

“We don't know that! What if everyone died over night from... Something? I dunno?”

“I don't think these are your zombies.” Gamora plopped wearily down onto the one couch that hadn't been shoved in front of the door and folded her hands on her knees. “But its strange that all of those people down there are acting the way they are while we are unaffected. We should seek help from someone outside the city limits. Even off the planet, if we have to.”

“We would have no way of reaching our ship.” Mantis had joined Quill by the window, her hands to the glass and looking down upon the city. “They have us surrounded.”

“I got this.” Rocket climbed up Groot and instructed his friend to pull away the chandelier, the ceiling decoration lights flickering off and then crashing to the floor. Where it had once been was a opened, dark panel in the ceiling with electrical wires that Rocket jumped into from Groot's shoulder and started to crawl away. Before he disappeared completely, the raccoon briefly popped his head out and looked down at the others. “Just chill here while I'm gone and don't do anything stupid like order room service.” With that last remark, there were some faint scratching noises along the inside of the ceiling and he was gone.

Peter pinched his brow, controlling his breathing for a moment when he felt Drax put a hand to his shoulder.

“Why would the zombies eat your brains?”

“Man, I don't know...”

AO3 LINK

[three-drink-amy]

41 jake and amy!!! idk why but i really love those types of stories

Ghost/living person AU! Thanks for the ask! I’d never written something like this before! 

Send me a ship and a number and I’ll write a short fic!

Jake finished buttoning his shirt, ready to tackle the day.He looked at himself in the mirror, feeling pretty good about himself.

“Seriously? You’re gonna wear that shirt again? You wore ittwo days ago. You didn’t even wash it!”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Amy, you’re a ghost! What do you carewhat I wear?”

Amy appeared in front of him. “I care because it’s disgusting.”

“Oh, you think I’mdisgusting? You’re a dead person hanging around, tormenting other people,” Jakeargued. “That’s disgusting.”

Amy sneered at him. “Yeah well I only stick around so youaren’t a total disaster. You’d be amess without me.”

Jake shook his head. “No, I’d be sane without you.” Amyscoffed and floated out of the room.

When Jake had moved into his new apartment, they’d failed tomention the ghost haunting the place. It wasn’t like Amy was a scary ghost. Shewasn’t Casper by any means, though. Casper was friendly while Amy was critical.She’d criticize just about every aspect of his life. He left a bottle on atable without a coaster and she knocked it off the table. He didn’t shower fora few days because he wasn’t going anywhere and she consistently made jokesthat he smelled. He brought home a girl once and she slammed doors and windowsuntil the girl was too freaked out to stay.

Despite it all, Jake had somehow grown fond of Amy. Or maybehe’d just gotten used to her. She did help him keep his life on tracksometimes. She was an annoying calendar that would squawk about appointmentsand being punctual. She gave him advice on what to cook for dinner, how to payhis taxes, doing laundry properly. She once helped him balance his checkbook.She wasn’t a complete annoyance. When they weren’t bickering, they realizedthey had similar senses of humor.

Not long after Jake moved in, he tried to find out how shedied, but he could never find a record of it. On nights when he was lonely, hewondered if maybe Amy wasn’t dead, just in a deep sleep or something. He’d seena movie like that. But Amy always came back and kept him company rather thankeeping her body company.

Jake was getting ready to leave when Amy swooped between himand the door. “You have a stain on your shirt. You should go change.”

Jake glared at her. “It’s fine. I’m just meeting somefriends.”

“Jake, stop being a slob,” Amy chided. “It takes two secondsto change a shirt.”

“Oh so I’m a slob?” Jake challenged.

Amy laughed. “Umm, is that an actual question? You’re thegrossest person I know. You once dropped your toothbrush in the toilet and thenstill used it.” She shivered disgustedly.

“Toilet water is clean!” Jake argued.

“Just admit that you’re disgusting and you’d be lost withoutme,” Amy demanded.

“Please, I’d like to see what my life would be like withoutyou,” Jake denied. “It would be significantly better without some annoyingkilljoy always lurking around.”

“Oh, so I’m a killjoy?” Amy retorted.

“Yeah,” Jake answered, “You probably died from beingboring.” Amy gaped at him, offense written on her translucent face. “Please, dome a favor and lay off me. Just stay out of my life. No one asked you to behere!”

Amy’s face fell. “Fine.” Immediately she disappeared fromsight. Initially, Jake felt relief. Thirty seconds later, guilt overroderelief. He shook his head, reminding himself that she was just a ghost. Hecouldn’t hurt her feelings.

Jake went to spend time with his friends. He was barelyengaged though, his mind instead on Amy. What if she did stay out of his life?What would he do without her? He may get annoyed with her sometimes, butultimately she was a huge part of his life. She’d tease him and care for him.Once when he was sick and too weak, she’d somehow heated him up soup. In hisheart of hearts, he wished Amy were still alive and he could spend time withher as an actual person. He sometimes imagined what it would be like. Wouldthey get along better? Could he see himself having feelings for her? It wouldbe weird to have feelings for the ghost living in your apartment, but Jakefound himself wondering if he did. He relied on Amy more than he cared to.Certainly more than he meant to.

He left his friends at the bar and headed home, too worriedabout Amy to focus on their hangout. He jostled with the keys and unlocked hisdoor. “Amy!” he called. Nothing. She didn’t bang doors like she usually didafter he was a jerk. He walked through every room of his apartment but hecouldn’t find her. Maybe she’d actually moved on this time. He threw himself downon the couch, wondering how he’d get by without her. “Amy, if you can hear me,”Jake spoke into the universe, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. You aren’t akilljoy. You’re awesome. I really rely on you. More than I want to. I don’tknow what I’d do if you actually stayed out of my life. I just wish I got toknow you as a real person. I feel like we’d have gotten along.” Jake sighed andthrew his head back against the couch. He closed his eyes, wishing he hadn’tbeen such a jackass.

“I guess you aren’t totally a slob.” Jake sat straight up onthe couch. He looked around like crazy for her. Suddenly she appeared, a frownupon her face. “Though you really shouldn’t have gone out with a stained shirt.”

Jake smirked. “You came back.”

Amy smiled sadly. “Couldn’t leave you to your own devices.You’d probably die.”

Jake laughed. “Then maybe we could haunt this placetogether,” he mused. He reached for the remote to turn on the TV. “I recordedJeopardy.” He could hear her quietly cheering to herself as he queued up theepisode. Jake knew there would be more fights. He knew he couldn’t rely on Amyforever. But for right now, he was content again. And that’s what mattered.