#SHIT AS A TEEN!! and then belonging. god she only ever wanted to belong somewhere but she always ended up being estranged? not a black not

[vvanessaives]

i think the Thing that makes vhanya's tragedy so..tragic to me is her youth. but not in a 'omg dying young, she had so much to live :(' which is. well rip to her. but more like every single mistake she does is in a way..normal. like mistakes you do when you're a teen and are sooo dumb but make you learn and they shouldn't weight too much or more like. they shouldn't have you pay a too expensive price. while vhanya's mistakes aren't looked at with kindness, there's no Understanding. she walks around with her rage and tears like she's screaming "i'm still learning!! don't i deserve some kindness?" and instead of a "it's okay that you fucked up, we can fix this" it's mistakes that shape forever her future without any way to rewind and idk it gets me </3

[vecnuthy]

🔀 jopper please or if they aren’t your thing Steddie please!

Thank you, Anna!! I can (hopefully) do Jopper 🤩 This paints a cool scene, especially if we keep the element of them taking so long to finally fall together. It's a proper au! This absolutely stunning song weaves such a vivid tapestry, and I'd be remiss to ignore it.

She couldn't do this anymore. Being in this place, surrounded by the same trees, the same fields, the same hills that reached tall and stretched far, blocking her from the sea where she belonged was literally killing her. She dealt with the little deaths for almost two decades, clinging to the life she had, the lives she'd created in her two children, but they had the same pallor in their eyes that she had long gotten used to.

But this wasn't a life she wanted for them. She had chosen this for herself, back when the opportunity arose. She'd found comraderie in the form of teens her own age, wanted a taste of the life that they led among air, rain, and cloud. To feel the soft grass on her feet and the brush of her hair - dry, frizzy, and full - against her skin. She fell for a boy who was kind and brash, moody like the coastal weather but warm like the fire on her hearth. And, god, did he glow. Smelled of tobacco and wood and musk and made her feel fizzy and light like the head of the ale he drank at the tavern after a day in the wood shop with his dad. She'd often brush the saw dust from his hair or his shoulders, marveling at how it got everywhere while playfully calling him a mess. He had kind eyes even while he gently pushed her away, telling her not to fuss through an uncharacteristically bashful smile.

But anything with James Hopper ended before it even started.

Another guy swept in, promised her security and belonging but slowly left her broken and abandoned with two kids and a cloud that never left her. And she was angry.

Angry at Lonnie for being a piece of shit.

Angry at the life she carved out with her bare hands, trying so hard to make it all fit right, only to manage to bring to kids into it who only knew the drudge of the town, the absence of their father, the pain and ungodly din of his presence when he came back.

She was angry at herself for leaving the ocean in the first place.

When her younger son almost died at the hands of other kids his age, fueled by hate and rumors, she decided it was enough. She left.

It had been almost twenty years since she felt the ocean on her skin, and it welcomed her back eagerly. Took in her kids as if they were its own, because they were.

They found belonging, going somewhere their father couldn't follow. Existing in a place he had always been terrified of, which made Joyce feel vindicated, finally feeling at peace in her own skin with the heavy weight of salt water pressing around her.

She would go ashore every now and then, mingle with the people and just walk around. She wondered if she would ever see him again, though — the boy who embodied a summer thundercloud and its warm rain that glittered in the sun as it fell. He — Hopper — was, obviously, a man now, who had made his own family established in that very same coastal town. He used his woodworking skills to build boats now.

And then, one day, she did see him.

His feet dangled over the pier as he ate an apple. His pants were rolled up over his calves, loose shirt rolled up to his elbows, and she knew that bearing through the mass of muscle he'd accumulated through a life of manual labor. She even recognized him behind the thick mustache he now wore. She thought it suited him.

He looked older. Looked tired. There was a weariness in the air around him.

Eventually, Joyce came to realize that he took a boat out every Tuesday, sailing it up and down the coast, loop it around a small island a mile out from the shore three times. She'd follow it, watching as he and the crew manned their stations, running quality checks.

She also picked up that he still visited a tavern, which is where she eventually reunited with him.

"You're a mermaid, aren't you," he stated, pulling deeply on a smoke in his mouth as Joyce stared in shock, trying to process what he said.

"I thought it was just my imagination at first. My mind dredging up old bones from the seafloor, but then they saw you too. Two weeks ago by Sattler Island. They thought you were a dolphin."

He took in her appearance, then added, "You look different. A good different though. I saw you once with him, and you looked like a shell of yourself."

"I was a shell of myself. Wait, was that a sea shell joke?" she quipped back, making him sputter into his cup with a choked laugh.

She caught him up to speed, told him why she left, about her sons, how well they'd been doing since leaving Hawkins, getting to experience the stories Joyce used to tell them firsthand. The friends they'd made. How they flourished.

And he listened, well into the night, apologized for not doing something about Lonnie. As if he could have.

As if she would've listened.

She learned that he was alone now. His daughter had died of smallpox years ago and left he and his wife with a grief so strong that it broke them apart.

They fell back into each other's lives, and, unwilling to let the other go again, made up for lost time. In the time after Jonathan and Will became settled, an opportunity came up for Hopper to sail for a while, just take off and go, so Joyce followed with him. They got a taste of how big the world could be. How clear and how murky, how angry and calm the sea was in various places. She was part of the sea, though, and amidst it with Hopper by her side, knowing that her kids were doing well, she never felt adrift again.

Send me a 🔀 with a pairing and I'll make an au based off of the first song in my shuffle

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

Texts from the Lost Tomb part 6.1

🎶 Back on the bullshit I never got off🎶

Is this another unnecessary story arc?? With three sections??

Yes.

Wushanju Crew Chat

Wang Meng: You know, I’m someone who appreciates consistency in my day. My life is pleasant, very few issues indeed if you ignore the big ones. And yet. Yet here we are. With unresolved messes at the end of a day.

Wang Pangzi: SOMETHIN YOU NEED TO SAY MARY POPPINS

Wang Meng: We need to talk about Huo Daofu and the glittery bead curtain.

Wang Pangzi: MY FAVE TEEN WIZARD SERIES

Wu Xie: did you turn on that suggested word thingy lol

What glittery bead curtain

Wang Meng: I closed the shop at 6:00pm this evening on the dot. I locked all of the doors in and out of the shop very carefully, especially in light of recent events. The hall leading to the back office was empty. I filed the day’s paperwork, updated and sent emails, and then spent an extra hour organizing receipts and dusting. When I came back out, there were glittery iridescent bead curtains over the front entrance to the shop.

What could this mean?

Wu Xie: uh that you need to spend less time at work?

Wang Pangzi: LOOKS LIKE WE GOT ONE FOR THE DETECTIVES. THE MYSTERY OF THE BEDAZZLED THRESHOLD COMMENCES

Wu Xie: I think we can be relatively secure in thinking a glittery bead curtain isn’t a hostile threat

Wang Pangzi: SAYS YOU

I REMEMBER YE OLDE EXPLORATION TIMES HOW FAST THINGS GOT FURIOUS

BEANBAG CHAIRS SET AFLAME AND LEFT ON DOORSTEPS AS A WARNING

GLITTERBOMBS FOR DAYS

PANIC AT THE DISCO

Wang Meng: Ugh, forget it. I should have just taken them down, regardless of who they belong to.

Zhang Qiling: They are not mine.

Wang Pangzi: A BOLD STATEMENT COMING FROM OUR PRIME SUSPECT

SOMEONE QUICK GO DRAW CHALK AROUND THE DOORWAY TO MARK THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

Wang Meng: Do we know anyone who *would* sneak in and put those up? For whatever reason, legal or not? Even as a joke?

Wang Pangzi: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING WHETHER WE KNOW ANYONE WHO IS CHAOTIC, AN OUTLAW, A PRANKSTER AND/OR SNEAKS INTO PLACES

BECAUSE THAT WOULD MEAN OUR SUSPECT LIST IS LITERALLY EVERYONE WE KNOW EXCEPT FOR YOU.

Wu Xie: okay let’s think about this; for starters, I didn’t break into my own shop

Wang Meng: You would be in danger of doing some work in the process, that’s true.

Wang Pangzi: LOL

Wu Xie: ANYWAY let’s keep going. For example, Xiao Ge would only break in somewhere for a good reason. Xiao Ge, did you do this?

Zhang Qiling: No.

Wu Xie: okay who’s next

Wang Pangzi: YOU REALLY MISSED YOUR CALLING IN INTERROGATION TIANZHEN

REALLY PUT THE SCREWS TO HIM

IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE;)

Zhang Qiling: How can we be certain *you* didn’t do it?

Wang Meng: Admittedly that was my guess, too.

Wang Pangzi: WOW I SEE HOW IT IS

BLAME PANGZI AS USUAL

ANYWAY HOW DOES HUO DAOFU FIT INTO THIS

Wu Xie: Oh yeah him! Oops I got distracted

Wang Pangzi: UR ENTIRE HISTORY IN A NUTSHELL

Wu Xie: Ugh fuck off

Wang Meng what abt Huo Daofu??

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wu Xie: oh sorry xiaoge I didn’t realize you wouldn’t have spent much time around him last year

He and I go way back

Zhang Qiling: Way back where?

Babysitters Club Chat

Wang Pangzi: I CANNOT BELIEVE HE IS BUYING YOUR INNOCENT ACT

IF YOU EVER TURN TO EVIL WE ARE FUCKED

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wang Pangzi: YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO HUO DAOFU IS

YOU WERE EXTREMELY POLITE AND BORDERLINE FRIENDLY TOWARDS HIM

Zhang Qiling: I wanted him to feel welcome. I wanted to be sure he understands he has a place here. A specific place.

Wang Pangzi: FOR A SILENT GUY YOU ARE A MASTER AT SUBTLE POWER PLAYS IM ALL TINGLY

LMAO THE IDEA OF WU XIE LEAVING YOU FOR HUO DAOFU IS HILARIOUS AND ALSO NOPE

Zhang Qiling: Rationally, I understand that.

Main Chat

Wang Meng: Huo Daofu is coming for the weekend—didn’t Wu Xie tell you? Wu Xie asked me to check in a week ahead so we could start getting ready for his arrival

Wu Xie: oh yeah I did do that

Wang Meng: Fortunately I know you and so I already went ahead and took care of everything.

Re: the trip

He made a deal with Wu Xie’s doctor that he would do periodic checkups on him here at Wushanju

Bc Wu Xie hates being in the hospital

And frankly the hospital hates him too

Wang Pangzi: FAMILIARITY BREEDS CONTEMPT LOL

I FORGOT HUO DAOFU WAS DOING THAT

A VERY CHIVALROUS GESTURE

WOULDNT YOU SAY

XIOAGE

Zhang Qiling: Is it safe for him to be here with a criminal loose on the premises?

Wu Xie: Right, back to the curtain! Let’s focus on the curtain, hmm?

Wang Pangzi: I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS WEEKEND.

ALSO WE CAN RULE OUT XIAO BAI FOR THE CURTAIN SHE JUST SENT A SELFIE FROM NORWAY COVERED IN GREEN SLIME WITH ZERO CONTEXT, UR PROTEGE INDEED

Wu Xie: okay but who else would do something so oddly charming yet illegal and—wait.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: hey, Glasses hasn’t been in touch lately right?

Li Cu: uh nope

Unless u count the outdated memes

Why, is money or Xie Yuchen missing

Or is this curtain related, I saw Wang Meng’s tweet

Wu Xie: haha no nothing to worry about really

(I mean maybe? but who knows)

Wang Meng is probably just getting a little paranoid in his old age

Li Cu: better than getting reckless and stupid as hell in ur old age

Wu Xie: …hey:(

Unknown Number: Li Cu, we discussed this.

Wu Xie: ????????

Li Cu: *sigh* fine, reckless and stupid as heck

Unknown Number: …close enough.

Wu Xie: EXCUSE who is that

Madame, Sir, Non-Binary Tree Spirit, etc—whomst the fuck

Are you

Li Cu is underage FYI

So Im staying on this chat

Li Cu: okay first of all, it’s not like that

Second of all I’m literally not underage I s2g

u threw the embarrassing surprise bday party, okay so u should remember

And C, that’s my counselor and I invited her. She wanted to meet u and I knew u wouldn’t agree to a visit so I added her to our chat

we have been discussing u

Wu Xie: Oh wow!!!!!!!

What a surprise:)

hi so nice to meet you:)

Main Chat:

Wu Xie: RED FUCKING ALERT

FUCK THE CURTAIN FUCK THE VISIT

IVE BEEN TRICKED INTO FAMILY THERAPY BY A SMUG TEENAGER WHO TEXTS UNKNOWN NUMBERS

Wang Meng: I assume that means something to someone here?

Not my problem? Good.

Wang Pangzi: AHAHAHA GOD I LOVE LI CU

HES LIKE ADORABLE KARMA FOR ALL THE SHIT YOUVE PUT ME THROUGH

IM RAISING HIS ALLOWANCE

Wu Xie: wait i give him an allowance

has he been collecting on two allowances??

Zhang Qiling: Three. I knew about both of yours.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: so uh may I ask your name?

Unknown Number: you can call me Ms. Lee.

Now, if you’re comfortable talking in this format, why don’t you tell me how things have been going?

Wu Xie: oh everything is normal and fine and safe as usual, why do you ask:)

Li Cu: I heard about ur necklace thing. nice of you to NOT mention it.

another dangerous adventure. again. prick.

Ur lucky your cool boyfriend cares about you so much or you’d have already died like ten years ago

Wu Xie: lol try twenty years ago

Li Cu: That isn’t funny.

Unknown Number: …What?

Wu Xie: shit ur right, okay that was a bit glib, my apologies.

…I use humor as a coping mechanism?

Unknown Number: and Li Cu, how do you feel about that?

Li Cu: he doesn’t even know what that phrase means

He doesn’t cope, like ever

In fact

It’s kind of why we met

Which is a funny story in retrospect tbh

Wu Xie: haha what are you talking about sweetie hahaha need I remind you of certain anecdotes that could idk send me to jail maybe lmao

Unknown Number: …You know, perhaps an in-person meeting might be more effective?

Wu Xie: haha such a nice idea but why

Main Chat

Wu Xie: If I go to jail, I’ll have to create alliances for protection, right, that’s how it works on tv

Who do we know who spends time in jail

Other than Hei Yangjing, he’s only ever there for like 12 hours and i suspect he just gets himself arrested bc he enjoys the breaking out process

Also how’s the curtain case coming along

Zhang Qiling: Has someone threatened you?

Wu Xie: well not yet but soon I’m sure

Wang Pangzi: WHERE WAS THIS PARANOIA WHEN WE GOT TAKEN TO THE TEA HOUSE HUH

Snake Eyes Minus Your Fucking Therapist Chat

Li Cu: okay how tf did u pull off spy and undercover shit

u are sus as hell

Wu Xie: damn son is it pick on Wu Xie night

I missed the flyers or I would’ve invited my uncles

Also re: the curtain it’s been mostly solved

Li Cu: I’m not your son, idiot.

Wu Xie: …oh. Sorry, sorry, you’re right, bad choice of words, haha

Forget i said anything

Delete this chat even

Li Cu: shit I meant

Legally, biologically, I meant—

shit

…I turn into an asshole as a coping mechanism?

Wu Xie: oh that’s all okay! I have to go do something else now let me know if you need anything okay kid thanks!

Li Cu: goddamn it calm down who’s the kid here

lemme organize my thoughts so I can articulate my emotions fuckin healthily or w/e

Ugh maybe for like one afternoon we could go to Ms. Lee together? She knows how to word stuff

Wu Xie: uh…okay.

Li Cu: Anyway you don’t need to worry abt jail

As if you would survive prison for one day you’d piss off half the place in like an hour or less

I gave Ms. Lee the heavily edited version of the desert highway to hell roadtrip and i discussed it more in terms of like “nightmarish but still wouldn’t take any of it back”

Well maybe the sand

that shit was everywhere

Wu Xie: oh kiddo. It’s fine, really…You don’t have to explain yourself to me.

Li Cu: no, no it’s just

I do technically have a dad

who is an asshole. Being a son doesn’t really mean shit to me bc it sucked.

So you need to stop backing down just cuz ur guilty abt stuff. I’m really really glad ur not my dad in a good way. Do u get what I mean there

Where’s the mafia widower I followed into hell, huh

Wu Xie: Ur a good kid, despite my influence. I’m really glad you have someone to talk to after everything I…after everything. Wow this talking through feelings thing is kind of weird but nice ur right

Jfc no wonder it took me and xiaoge so long to—you know what, we won’t get into that

Li Cu: ew tmi

Also re: this week’s recent necklace fuckery

I moved my stuff here, I live here now

So you can’t die anymore

Or else…Idk I don’t have a threat planned

anyways abt the curtain

Wu Xie: oh my god, kid…kid you have no idea

I am in tears.

Li Cu: see this is why I can’t be nice to you I can sense the hallmark channel from here

Ugh don’t be sad in ur room that’s dumb

Go hug Pangzi or something

Maybe delete this chat

Or the curtain thing

Focus on the curtain thing

Just stfu and go away

Wu Xie: <3 screenshotting this <3

Li Cu: I take back everything I said. This is why Xiao Ge sleeps on the roof. I hope the ghosts of the Wangs put up that curtain to strangle you somehow. Go die in a stupid way, it’ll suit you.

Wu Xie: lol don’t worry I’m not gonna embarrass you with it or anything

Main Chat

Wu Xie: omg guys look how cute my kid is *sending screenshot*

Wang Pangzi: I MEAN

HE IS WISHING YOU DEATH

BUT SURE

CUTE I GUESS

Wu Xie: no but read the whole thing:):):)

Zhang Qiling: It is indeed very hard to remain angry with you. And you are welcome to join me on the roof.

Wang Pangzi: UH NOPE

NOT WHENI HAD TO BLEACH THE COUNTER IN THE KITCHEN

DONT TRAUMATIZE THE EARLY BIRDS THEYRE ALREADY FREAKED OUT BY U YA HOODIE CRYPTID

Wu Xie: ok true but babe ur like a sexy cryptid

Wang Meng: so, are we just accepting that there is a glittery curtain of unknown origin, and Huo Daofu is going to have to see it while he’s waiting for you at Wushanju bc you’re going to family therapy?

Wu Xie: right

Wang Pangzi: SHOULDA TAKEN EARLY RETIREMENT HUH

Wang Meng: I’m going to go dust something.

Unnamed Chat:

Unknown number: so the curtain…

Unknown number 2: yep, not my best work but I kinda panicked last minute u know

Unknown number: what is in the water at Wushanju that makes everyone dumb and attractive

Unknown number 2: relax they’ll figure it out

[the-galaxy-collector]

heart/beats

Pairing: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning(s): fluff, sick stiles, derek hale is bad at feelings

Summary: Stiles gets sick while the gang is away. Derek comes back to check on him. 

A/N: I think as is becoming common for me in the Teen Wolf fandom, this just poured out of me with no prior warning and I regret nothing. 

Stiles stood up, or he tried, before his body forced him to sit back down on the edge of his bed. He’d been trying to work up both the strength and the courage to take a shower for the past thirty minutes, but he was still here. In the exact same position. Trying not to puke all over his pajamas. 

A very attractive look, if he did say so himself. 

He closed his eyes and willed the room to stop spinning, but he knew it was pointless. He’d been sick for the last two days and whatever the hell this shit was, it didn't seem to be going anywhere. 

Everyone was gone too, which made it worse. They were off saving the world from… something. He couldn’t remember now. Something way more important than Stiles, though. And he wasn’t bitter about it. He knew what they were doing was a big deal. It was just that right now he wanted chicken soup like his mom used to make and someone to tuck him back into bed. 

After a shower, he reminded himself. The shower was still a must. 

Stiles took a deep, steadying breath and forced himself up with shaky limbs. He held out his arms, forcing himself to remain balanced and upright, as he started to walk forward gingerly. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

He yelped as his eyes popped back open at the noise. He didn’t know he wasn’t alone, and his heart was racing uncomfortably as he clutched his chest now over it. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” He gulped. “What the fuck are you doing? Why are you here?”

“You’re sick,” Derek explained bluntly. 

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Stiles bit back. “Go. I’m fine.”

“You definitely are not. We need to go to the hospital, Stiles.”

“We need to go to the hospital, Stiles,” he mocked in a high-pitched voice. “You sound like that, you know.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Derek. You guys are off, ya know, saving the world or whatever. And I’ll be fine. Just go help them.”

“They don’t need my help.”

“And neither do I,” Stiles insisted. 

“Why are you like this?” he said, a smile in his voice. “You make me crazy. You know that, right?”

“No,” he replied sarcastically. “Really?”

When he went to roll his eyes at Derek’s stubborn nature, like he’d done a million and a half times, his head pulsed suddenly with a headache so severe it caused him to fall to his knees. Derek was by his side within seconds, his hands on either side of his face as he forced Stiles to look at him. 

He pulled back his eyelids one at a time, and whatever he saw there made him hoist Stiles off the floor without a word, and carry him from the room. Stiles wanted to put up a fight, tell Derek to put him down, that he was going to be fine. It was just the flu or something non-lethal to teenagers, but pressed up against Derek’s chest like this was warm and comfortable and he found it very difficult to hold other thoughts in his brain right now. 

Derek took him straight outside and propped him up in the front seat of his own car before buckling him in and rushing around to the driver’s side. He knew how much Derek hated the Jeep, which meant that he either was doing it for Stiles’ sake or because he had run all the way here without his own car because it wasn’t fast enough. Stiles wasn’t sure which one was sweeter. 

“Stiles, I swear to God,” Derek growled, “if you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

Stiles snorted his laughter despite the pounding in his head, currently radiating out from behind his left eye. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” Derek asked softly. 

Too softly. Like he was actually worried. Which stressed out Stiles more than he thought it would. Or should. 

Stiles shrugged his answer, and even that tiny movement sent a jolt of pain down his spine. But he wasn’t lying. He honestly couldn’t remember when he had put food in his mouth last, which was probably not great. 

Derek growled again, and while it was affecting Stiles like it always did, the dull ache covering his entire body pushed any stupid, horny thoughts out of his brain. 

At least for now. 

He knew they’d be back, especially if Derek was going to stick around. Stiles sort of hated that. Especially since Derek could tell. Hiding things from werewolves, as he’d learned, was not possible. It wasn’t awkward at all. 

Yep, he definitely hated that. 

Derek continued to slam his foot and the gas pedal all the way to the floorboard as he drove, but it didn’t do any good. It never did. The Jeep was ancient, one of the things Stiles loved about it, and it wasn’t ever going to go faster than this. But Derek was wonderfully impatient, often with Stiles, or things that involved  Stiles. 

Another endearing quality that would normally make his heart all aflutter. But right now, he was in too much pain. 

The sunlight streaming in was making his head hurt worse, though, so he laid it down on the console in between him and Derek and tried not to focus on the fact that the traditionally very grumpy man was rubbing Stiles’ leg absentmindedly as he made his way through the streets of Beacon Hills. 

Derek had never been one to touch anyone for any reason, so clearly Stiles was dying. Or Derek thought he was. He couldn’t think of any other reason why he might be doing that, but again, he had no strength left to even ask.

Stiles didn’t think he was ready for the answer. Or, more appropriately, he knew he wasn’t ready for the brush off. 

Stiles half expected Derek to pull straight into the emergency room bay where only the ambulances are supposed to go with the way he was acting, but he found a normal spot. And just like when they got into the car, he rushed around and helped Stiles out. Like being away from Stiles for even the shortest amount of time was too much for Derek to handle. Yeah, Stiles was dying and Derek felt bad for him. There were no other explanations.

He even tried to carry him bridal style again, but Stiles managed to put his foot down. 

Well, not literally. But he made it clear that wasn’t happening in front of all these people. 

He had some dignity left.

The harsh fluorescents assaulted his eyes worse than the sunlight, and he found, once again, that he needed to slam his eyes shut to keep from hurling all over himself. And Derek. 

“Oh my God,” Melissa asked from somewhere nearby. “What happened?”

“Well, my idiot has been sick for the last two days and he didn’t call anyone and now I’m afraid he’s dehydrated and about to pass out.”

Melissa giggled at Derek’s assessment as she ushered them back to what Stiles was sure was a room, but all he could concentrate on was the fact that Derek had said my idiot. My idiot. Like Stiles belonged to him. 

Not that Stiles would complain if that were true. 

Derek put him down on the bed as soon as the door shut behind them and dimmed the lights, allowing Stiles to open his eyes again. Melissa was already rushing around getting things set up as Derek forced him to lay down. He hadn’t even stopped to put shoes on, so when he pulled the covers up to Stiles’ chin, he couldn’t really protest. 

Too much anyway. 

“Derek, stop,” he said, pushing his hands away. “I’m not an invalid.”

Derek rolled his eyes and sat down in a chair, pulling it up as close to the side of Stiles’ bed as he could get without actually being in the bed. 

“All right, Stiles. You ready?”

He nodded as he felt the coolness from an alcohol prep pad next and then hissed loudly as the IV slid into his arm. No matter how many times he’d been forced to do this, it didn’t get easier. And it should be by now, he reasoned, since hanging out with werewolves had some disadvantages. Not many, but some. If you were unlucky enough to be the only human anyway. 

Stiles didn’t miss the way that Derek flinched a little at his pain, though, causing his eyebrows to pull in the middle. He was getting more confused, and more concerned, by the second. 

Something was definitely going on. 

“Honey, I’m gonna take some blood, give you some fluids, and bring some food. Do you think you can eat?”

Stiles shrugged again, swallowing hard as his mouth filled with saliva. The thought of eating anything made his stomach do a flip, which probably wasn’t a good sign, but he could try. He certainly knew he should try. 

“I can give you something to help you sleep, if you wanna do that instead, but we’re gonna have to wake you up in, like, an hour to try to get something in your stomach. Or I’m gonna have to feed you some Ensure.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. “Like they give old people?”

Melissa nodded. “No. Just knock me out and then wake me up later. I promise I’ll try. But do not give me that shi… stuff.”

It didn’t matter how old he got, cussing in front of Melissa always felt wrong somehow. She just laughed quietly, though, and shook her head as she finished hooking him up to everything, forcing Derek to move only when it was absolutely necessary. 

A couple minutes after she pushed something directly into his line, he started to feel sleepy. Like actually sleepy. Not this fitful mess he’d been enjoying for over 48 hours. 

And he let his eyes close without a word. 

He couldn’t be sure if it had been a few minutes or hours, but when he started to wake back up, he heard Derek’s soft voice beside him. He sounded like he might be talking to someone, but since Stiles’ eyelids were still way too heavy to open, he just listened. 

As the grogginess slowly lifted, he noticed Derek was holding his hand. Actually holding his hand. In both of his. His head and, more importantly, his lips were resting next to Stiles’ skin. He could feel Derek’s breath.  

Wait, am I dead? 

“Does he know yet?” Melissa whispered. 

“No,” Derek said, just as quiet. 

“When are you gonna tell him?”

“Well, I came back to do that and he was about to pass out. I got distracted,” he explained, exasperation taking over momentarily. “But I guess I knew something was wrong.” 

“Of course you did,” Melissa insisted. “He’s your mate.” 

Mate?! 

Okay, Stiles was definitely dead. Or dreaming. Hopefully dreaming. At least that way he could still wake up. 

Melissa didn’t wait for Derek to respond before she asked another question. “Talk to Noah yet?” 

“Yeah.”

Once again, Derek lapsed into silence. But it wasn’t long before Melissa got irritated with his lack of information on the topic. 

“And?” she huffed.

“He told me he’d kill me if I hurt him.”

She laughed again, still as softly as before. Stiles could hear her walk back to the door, enjoying her little private joke.

“Well, you’re safe,” she said, pausing at the threshold. “We both know you’re not capable of that.”

“Mhmm,” he answered. 

“Derek?”

“Yeah?” he asked, moving his head to the side.

And suddenly Stiles had a new thing he hated now. The way Derek sounded asking that one question. It was vulnerable, like Derek’s entire nervous system was on the outside. All exposed and raw. He wanted very much to get out of this bed and protect him, but that didn’t make any sense. Derek didn’t need to be protected. It was Derek. 

“You’re gonna be great,” Melissa declared. 

And then she left him with that, allowing the door to close behind her without waiting for him to argue. 

After a few seconds, Derek cleared his throat. “How, uh, much of that did you hear?”

Stiles forced himself to remain as still and quiet as possible, not even allowing his breathing to pick up. He would give Derek an out. 

“I can hear your heartbeat, Stiles,” Derek explained. “I know you’re awake.”

Stiles couldn’t help but smirk. It was his go-to response, sure, but it also seemed to fit the occasion. 

“Mate, huh?” 

Derek groaned loudly and Stiles opened his eyes slowly. “When did you plan on telling me, Sourwolf?”

[come join all the Teen Wolf fandom shenanigans over at the Beacon Hills Preserve Discord Server]

[ontheblock]

BABE U WRITE FOR SALLY FACE?? Anything with Travis (male s/o with him obviously) or Sally please :O your writing is amazing!!

YES I DO !! i used to have a bunch of wips i still haven’t finished but i figured i can still add sf to my list since it was such a comfort game when it came out haha. as per usual, this isn’t beta read, i fucked the formatting up twice but just squint when you notice any errors- also thank you love <3 i‘d give you a free bologna sandwich for requesting trav ily. 100% beef obviously /winkwonk

fabric

•warning: abuse, religious guilt, homophobia and f-slur use, bad first kisses, badly written fluff, travis being travis

Travis was meant to live a life molded for him by his father. The pattern was already placed on the fabric when his first cry shook the hospital room at 6:33am. He was supposed to be cut from his father‘s mold but Travis‘ fabric was already old and frayed, the intertwining strings of muted tones that held him together felt lose by the time he could run. Sometimes he thought about the reason why he was incomplete. His fabric wasn‘t strong enough to hold his family name, not stretchy enough to bounce back from his father‘s reactions. Travis‘ mother patched him up every time there was another bruise on his back or face. She would cut parts out of her own fabric to cover the ripped strings her husband‘s belt left on their son. But she had only so much left when the beatings got worse.

Travis was in middle school, attending a christian summer camp a few hours away from Nockfell. He never noticed how different the air was at home but the sky was so murky compared to literally everywhere else. His father thought it was a good idea to let the boy out of town while he took care of the Ministry business which was code for something Travis shouldn‘t stick his nose into. He never asked but someone went missing while he was gone. Tragic.

Not as tragic as the camp counselor calling Travis home on their last day. The boy didn‘t know about that but they told his father about some inappropriate behavior his son showed with a fellow camper - a boy his age, Kenneth didn‘t care for the name or where he was from. All he needed to know was what his son did with that boy. The counselor tried to calm the angry parent on the phone but as soon as the information was exchanged the line went dead. He didn‘t want to hear the washed up excuses. His son was young and it was best to get these urges out of his system before they could even develop - dig for the deepest root you could find and rip it from the still fresh ground before it bloomed into something ugly, even if that meant that the garden would never bloom at all. Kenneth was a man of action after all.

That evening Travis came home clueless while his father already stood in the hallway with his wife behind him, holding onto his hand and uttering whispered quick prayers but his thick fingers already curled around the leather painfully hard. The strain it caused in his hand only fueled the need for a release as he charged for his son who didn‘t even have the chance to slip out of his worn sneakers.

That evening his mother didn‘t stay when Kenneth told her to go to bed early. Travis asked himself if it pained her the same way it pained him when his skin split under the force his father put in his first few strikes.

“You want to hold hands with boys now?“

“My son isn‘t a faggot, is that clear?“

“I gave you a place in this filthy town. You will appreciate it and live a proper life!“

“You will thank me when you don‘t burn for being dirty.“

It wasn‘t meant for Travis to answer because by the end of the night he would not even think about a boy‘s hand to be soft and warm anymore.

Travis was older now but he never found enough of anything to mend the damage his father did that night. Travis didn‘t try to explain that he held onto the boy because they figured that they wouldn’t slip on the wet mud that way. Instead he kept quiet about it ever happening and his father was content with this as long as he pulled his son from the devil‘s path to sodomy.

And Travis thought so too until a thread of blue fabric pulled together a gaping hole in his fabric. It stuck out like a sore thumb - too vibrant but warmer than any patch his mother gave to him and when he sat on the grimy bathroom floor in school after Sal Fisher of all people gave him a fucking pep talk, it felt nice. The warmth let his tears evaporate so he could pull himself together for the rest of the day.

But it was short lived. The warmth spread through him so fast he felt like burning up whenever he sat in class with Sal. He tried everything to get that blue thread out of his life but pulling on it only felt like strangling himself and he regretted ever letting his bully persona slip in that bathroom just because Sal fucking Fisher found the note he threw away - the note that was about him but Travis never had it in himself to tell him that. He regretted his promise to be less of an asshole because he knew he couldn‘t. Not even three days later the heat in his belly was so hot that he boiled over when he saw Fisher talking to that ginger nerd by the lockers. He ended up calling him a faggot because how dare he be openly gay in the same town Kenneth Phelps lived? How dare he be happy like this?

Sal tensed at the insult. Did he actually think Travis could be better? And why was his freakshow friend not hurt at the insult when it still burned in his throat to say it? Why did it feel like the slur wasn‘t meant for Todd at all? Travis swallowed hard as he fled the hallway in such a hurry that the three folded up pamphlets in his barely zipped up backpack fell on the muddy vinyl flooring.

“Fuck, Phleps. Just wait. Travis!“ The boy in question tucked at his collar as he turned a corner just to slip into another empty corridor. They had a free period right after gym class and Sal Fisher was determined to finally talk to the boy who relentlessly bullied him to now avoid him like it was the other way around. “Jesus, I‘m not gonna pry but if your dad-“ Sally harshly bumped into Travis as he whipped around, finally coming to a stop. Shame crawled up the taller teen‘s neck when he didn‘t find the prosthetic nose digging into his sweater uncomfortable.

“Shut up! God, just stop!“ Sal was surprised that he would use his Lord‘s name in vain like that and if the situation was anything but this he would‘ve laughed. “Travis, I don‘t know how you feel but-“, Sal tried again but Travis was at his limits this time. “You don‘t and you never will, Fisher. Your dad would accept you being a dirty faggot but mine doesn’t!“ He tried to fill his words with venom but it all bounced back on the guy‘s mask anyway with how much his voice actually trembled.

There was a moment of silence that made Travis want to literally get struck by his God‘s angry lightning. He couldn‘t even leave. It was like all the root his father dug out slowly crawled back to feed on his shame and ground him in front of Sal who still had to react and maybe Travis should just tell him to fuck off so he wouldn‘t have to find out what he wanted to say next.

“Travis...“ Sal lowered his voice in a fake moment of privacy. “Are you-?“ Travis already shut his eyes as he clenched his fists. He didn‘t like where this was going but there was no more fight in him. “Nevermind. You don‘t owe me shit but I saw your back.“ Travis exhaled through his mouth until there was nothing left in his lungs. He knew where that question was headed. Are you gay, Travis? Are you the faggot and that‘s why you‘re so angry? He was glad that Sal changed his approach because even Travis himself was too scared to find the answer.

“So what, Sally Face? You‘re sticking your nose somewhere it doesn’t belong. If you even have one under that stupid mask.“ Travis harshly pushed his index finger into the boys chest and the sharp inhale he made almost made him freeze up and apologize. But he couldn‘t. He was too deep to go soft now. The look in Sal‘s eyes was enough to make Travis finally stumble backwards and push past him.

He didn‘t follow him this time.

His verbal fights with Sal Fisher were like a damn wake up call for the teen. The rush of warmth it spread in his chest and the cold shiver in sent down his spine were shaking his body every time. He started noticing that Nockfell wasn‘t that murky. Travis used to really like yellow as a child because it reminded him of his mother’s favorite sunflower dress. She was a different woman now. The vibrant yellow was fading just like her hair. Maybe it was just Nockfell, maybe it was because of her suffocating husband draining her of her life and slowly unraveling her fabric. It didn‘t matter now but to make a depressing story short, Travis didn‘t have a favorite color anymore.

But the sky looked like a pretty shade of blue on some days. He never noticed but his bathroom tiles had blue specks in them. He always thought they were just a weird grey. There were tiny flowers blooming in the most vibrant blue behind the school and he wished that they were behind the church too but nothing ever grew around that building. But he would pluck them sometimes when he was skipping gym class. His last fight in the empty hallway was weeks ago and he hoped that Sal finally gave up on his savior complex. But why did his chest sting at that thought? His fingers slowly clutched his sweater as he stared at a withering flower by his foot. Travis jumped out of his thoughts when the metal door creaked open.

“Yo.“ Sal pushed the door closed with his shoe as he held up a hand to casually greet him. His face scrunched up. “What do you want?“ Travis lowered his head again. The boy obviously noticed the fresh shiner on his face already but facing him still felt like he exposed himself. “Just wanted to confirm that the church boy was skipping class.“ Uninvited, the teen sat beside Travis on the grass, with a healthy distance of course. “Shut up. My faith has fuck all to do with school“, Travis spoke lowly but his voice was tired. Sal just hummed in agreement before silence draped over them. Not uncomfortably like the usual strained void of reactions when one of them dropped something they weren‘t prepared for. It felt ok like this and it felt like a blanket. To Travis that blanket was soft and blue but before he could shake it off and stand up there were strings of the obnoxious fabric already weaving themself into his personal space.

“We don‘t have to fight all the time.“ Sal didn‘t look at him and neither did Travis. He really didn‘t have a reason to disagree. Not one that wouldn’t blow his cover at least.

“Maybe I could come to your little church and-“ Travis head snapped up. “Don‘t“, he blurted out a little louder than he meant. “It‘s a joke. I‘m not religious.“ Sal snorted, plucking a few pieces of grass. “Yeah, because you‘re a sinner in the eyes of the Lord. You f-“ Travis had to physically stop himself by biting his lip. Sal looked over at him and Travis wished he didn‘t. “Sorry“, Travis mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes, or eye since he was pretty sure his other eye never moved before. “I‘m trying to not call people that anymore.“ because all I hear is my father saying it.

“It‘s cool.“ It wasn‘t. “Why are you skipping?“ Travis huffed. It was weird to not let the conversation derail into verbal abuse. “I don‘t know. I fell. Hit my head on the door pretty bad. As you can see.“ Sal just hummed. “That‘s why you‘re limping, too?“ Travis blurted out a “yes“ a little too fast. Why was he nervous? His whole school life already revolved around cover up stories about the strange aches and bruises he got out of nowhere.

“Right.“ Sal let it slide, again. “You‘re acing algebra, Fisher.“ It wasn‘t a question so Sal didn‘t say anything. “Hmm.“ Travis cursed himself for never learning proper social skills but his father didn‘t like him bringing strangers into the house and his teen years were a constant feeling of push and pull of picking fights with boys that sparked an ugly tingle in his belly.

“You need a tutor?“ The silence seemed to be enough for Sal. Fuck him and his open fucking hand. “Maybe.“ Travis flicked a flower with his finger, dismissing the clear offer because his stomach ignited at the fact that Sal didn‘t hate him enough yet. “Maybe there is a tutor in Addisons Appartement, Room 402, who‘s free on the weekend.“ Sal couldn‘t help but smile under his mask as Travis huffed. “Fuck you, Fisher.“

Sal already forgot about his offer when lunch passed and his dad stood in the kitchen, washing their dishes, enjoying the background noise of his son watching TV with his cat. They were so engrossed in the VHS tape Sal put on that he didn‘t hear the door until his dad whistled from the kitchen. “Sally, door.“

“Huh? Oh. Yes, dad.“ He jumped to his feet, leaving Gizmo to the slasher movie he seemed to like. “Weird, Larry said he‘s busy“, Sal mumbled, opening the front door. “Oh.“ It was a knee jerk reaction from Sal because he expected everyone but Travis Phelps to knock at his door and truth be told, he looked like he‘d rather be anywhere else with the way his awkward greeting caught in his throat and died on his tongue as a huff. His eyes followed the way the blue strands hung over Sal‘s shoulders, the mask straps upsetting the smooth texture as a few chunks hung over the elastics. Travis hasn’t seen him with his hair down. He looked smaller in big sweatpants and a band shirt too.

“Travis?“ The boy‘s eyes snapped back to the mask in front of him. “So, algebra?“ Sal tilted his head a smidge. A small habit he picked up to better communicate what would otherwise be shown in his facial features. But it made Travis want to scream for a multitude of reasons as heat crept up his neck. “Obviously.“

Anyone else would‘ve told him to fix his tone or fuck off but Sal held open the door for him. It felt wrong but Travis took the invitation, rubbing his clammy hands on his pants. “Who is it?“, a deeper voice called and Travis almost jumped. He had to remind him this wasn‘t Kenneth. Mr Fisher wasn’t anything like his dad and he didn’t have to be on edge around the boy. “A friend“, Sal replied shortly, only getting an approving hum.

A friend. Did Sal see him as a friend? He couldn‘t dwell on it since he was pulled into the boy‘s bedroom that looked nothing like his. “Just sit anywhere.“ Sal wildly gestured into the room and Travis sat on the barely made bed as Sall dropped his books next to him.

Travis felt like there was something breathing down his neck the entire time they sat on Sal‘s bed. His shirt collar felt like it was about to cinch his neck closed, the dangling cross necklace he kept under his shirt felt hot to the touch like it burned the shape of Jesus into his chest with every sinful thought that crossed his mind as Sal explained the most bland and unerotic subject.

“Travis?“ The boy almost choked on his own spit.

“Romans 1:26-27.“ Travis stumbled over his own words but the verse was engraved into his head after writing and reciting it for a month straight under the stern eye of his father. There was a briefe silence for a moment.

“What?“ Sal looked up from the book in his lap.

“What?“ Travis felt breathless as he stared back at Sal. “Nothing“, he quickly added before Sal could even say anything else. “Explain that again?“ But he didn‘t. Instead, Sal pushed the book off his thigh, still staring the boy down. “Did you really come here for algebra, dude?“ No. “Yes.“ Travis fiddled with the hem of his shirt, not knowing if it was anxiety, anger or just bile scratching against his stomach lining to crawl out of him.

When Sal didn‘t say anything else Travis just reached over the boys lap to take the book himself but there was already a hand pressing against his shoulder. Travis hissed as he pulled his arm back, making Sal pull back just as fast. They stared at each other for a moment before Sal‘s gaze darted to his shoulder. “You fell pretty hard on that door.“ Travis clenched his jaw. “Shut up, Fisher, and back the fuck up.“

The boy shook his head, scooting away an inch. “Listen, you can say no because I would too but I can at least get you ointment for that.“ Sal gestured to his back and shoulder and something in Travis just crumbles as he lets his hands drop into his lap, staring them down to not look at Sal. “Ok. If it gets you off my back you parasite.“

Travis didn‘t plan this when he knocked on the apartment door. He expected to maybe stay 20 minutes before something would make him see red but all he saw was blue. Maybe he was cursed. All these years of plucking out the roots his father couldn’t reach were rendered worthless now that he sat on the rough carpet, holding his shirt up as Sal dug out the ointment.

How did he even get here? His heart beat in his throat when he felt a presence behind him. He felt the need to say something. He wanted to make it clear that this meant nothing to not make it weird but wouldn‘t that make it weirder? Wasn‘t this the same as his mother putting a bandaid on his cuts and whatever herbal mixture on his wounds? It wasn’t because he never felt the sick urge to kiss his mother.

“Ready?“, Sal asked, kneeling behind him with a glob of cool ointment on his index and middle finger. Fucking hell, why did he have to make it weird? He definitely had to say something now.

“It was my dad.“ Travis spoke fast enough to mutter his words but the long pause probably meant that Sal heard him anyway. He wanted to melt into the carpet, leave behind a stain on the boy‘s floor to annoy him just one last time. He didn‘t know what he expected him to say to that and he also didn‘t know why that was the thing he had to say. But Sal made it easy on him by just not answering at all. Instead, he dabbed the cream on the first bruise, making Travis inhale sharply but otherwise biting his tongue. Sal figured that Travis wanted to act tough by not showing that it hurt but actually, Travis didn‘t trust his voice under Sal‘s soft fingertips.

“Travis“, Sal spoke again. Travis wasn‘t sure if he hated the heavy silence more of the fact that Sal was the first to say something while he was rubbing little circles into his back. He didn‘t answer but that never held Sal back.

“Are you gay?“ His voice was so quiet that Travis wouldn‘t have heard it if they sat a little further apart but it had the same effect as screaming it for all of Nockfell to hear. Sal felt him tense up under his touch, already expecting him to jump up or at least yell at him. But neither of them did anything. Sal‘s fingers rested against the heating skin, feeling it rise with every ragged breath he managed to take. “Travis-“

“Fuck, Sal. What? Do you want me to tell you about the times my dad beat the gay out of me or do you prefer that time I wanted to kiss you in that gross fucking bathroom?“, the teen finally barked, letting his words sink in first before he hissed a quiet “shit“. The fingers on his back pulled away as Sal sat on his heels. “You wanted to kiss me?“, Sal repeated, slower than Travis but he just pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes until he saw shapes and felt like the pressure would crush his face. He heard Sal shuffle around the room, probably getting ready to throw him out like he should‘ve done a while ago. But the shuffling stopped in front of him and something told him not to look but cold hands were already on his wrists to peel his cramping hands from his face. Travis opened his eyes just in time to see that mask uncomfortably close but before he could say anything, there was an odd sensation on his lips with minimal pressure. Sal was kissing him and it snuffed the flame in his stomach for just a moment, allowing the torched butterflies to unfold their wings and fly high enough to even make his heart pump overtime. But the feeling was lost just as soon when Sal inched backwards, pulling his prosthetic back in place before Travis could even take any of this in.

“Sorry.“ Sal threw it into the room for Travis to interpret. But the gears in his head threatened to jump out of place already so he reached out to Sal who already flinched backwards, holding onto his mask. “You don‘t want that.“ Sal pushed his hand back a little. “How would you know?“ Travis furrowed his brows at him but he was thankful. He wasn‘t sure if he could take seeing the boy bare like that but he was craving that feeling his father tried to snuff so desperately.

Sal just shook his head as Travis inched closer. “I‘ll close my eyes.“ Now it was Sal‘s turn to hole up in silence, knowing that neither of them could handle the mask coming off. Something made him trust Travis‘ words as he opened the bottom clasp which was the cue for Travis to shut his eyes. He did and seconds later he felt Sal on him again. One hand clamping over his eyes just to make sure and the other fisting the front of his shirt.

This time Travis felt the cleft in Sal‘s lip and the scar tissue ripping up the soft skin. He leaned into the kiss. Where were his hands supposed to go? When Travis didn‘t find the answer his body moved on autopilot. One hand threaded through the surprisingly smooth strands as the other clung to the small of his back.

Travis should‘ve been grossed out by the drool pooling out of Sal‘s torn lip but he wasn‘t. He should be grossed out by Sal being a boy but he wasn‘t. When Sal pulled back he kept his hand over Travis‘ eyes while the other wiped the spit off his chin. The kiss alone was enough to patch up his murky fabric with bright blue strings that dominated the colors his father painted him in. Travis didn‘t know what would happen after high school. Hell, he didn‘t even know what would be tomorrow. But he didn‘t want the bright fibers to unravel him again.

A knock on the door startled both of them, making Sal pull his arm away and Travis rapidly blinking. He didn‘t notice the mangled face first as the unruly blue caught his eye. His hand did that. His heart beat in his throat again as he overheard Sal‘s father say something and Sal shooting a hum of agreement back. His prosthetic was already on his face again before Travis could catch anything besides the scar tissue crawling up his jaw and chin before splitting his lips and exposing teeth and gum.

Maybe blue was his favorite color.

[xbladekitkat85]

Why Clint is on Tony’s Sh*t List

Word count: A bit over 3k.

Chapter summary: Peter and Harley are brothers and the children of Tony Stark. Which is highly classified knowledge that nobody outside of the Avengers knows. Until Clint Barton accidentally spills the secret with a technology related mishap.

Warnings: A bit of language here and there. Tony threatening Clint’s life because he did an oopsie.

Peter's POV

In the school that is Midtown School of Science and Technology, everyone is basically a genius of some sort. You have biology geeks, math geeks, chemistry geeks, robotics geeks. You name a branch of STEM subjects, there are guaranteed to be at least 5 masters in every subject.

That being said, being a master in a subject doesn't mean that you would be instantly popular. Sure you might get hounded for homework help, but it doesn't mean you actually make friends as easily. It's more like people want to leech off of your knowledge and don't bother to get to know you.

There's a social pyramid in all schools and let's just say I'm towards the bottom of mine. I build Lego sets, I love Star Wars, I'm a whiz at chemistry and math. But people ignore the fact that I'm 'somewhat' intelligent and focus on the Lego and Star Wars part of my image. Which sucks big time. At least I'm graduating this year.

But at least I have my brother Harley to confide in. We argue over stupid stiff but we both enjoy poking fun at each other.

3rd person POV

Peter was sitting at his usual table with his small group of friends. Ned, MJ, and Betty made up this small group of people.

"So, what are you guys doing this weekend?" Ned asked the group.

"Uhhhh, I was planning on going to see that new movie coming out." Betty answered. "You know, the one with Emilia Clarke and what's his name."

"Oh yeah, I know which one you're talking about." Ned replied.

"You losers can go see a movie, I'm going to a protest outside of Oscorp." MJ replied, sipping her thermos of coffee.

"What did Oscorp do?" Peter asked curiously.

"They're trying to cover up an employee getting severely injured, the safety protocols are shitty, and HR is as usual, the worst part of it all in addition to the censorship of the incident online."

Peter nodded his head, eyes widened.

"Gotcha. I definitely understand why you're going."

MJ set her thermos down and opened her latest book, Speak.

Ned turned to look at Peter.

"Stark internship all weekend?" He inquired.

Peter shrugged and took a sip of water.

"I'm gonna hang out with Harley. Probably do some stuff in the lab. Usual stuff."

Betty shook her head in disbelief.

"I still can't believe you're friends with him." She said. "He's pretty high on the social ladder here. I mean I know you guys have the internship together but it's still kind of baffling that I never see you interacting in school."

Ohhhhh, if you only knew Betty. Peter laughed to himself on the inside.

Nobody at school knew that Peter and Harley were half brothers and the children of Tony Stark. Not even Ned or MJ knew although he suspected that MJ somehow knew or was close to figuring it out. She's scarily perceptive and freakishly good at knowing things about other people that she definitely shouldn't.

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch.

The four friends parted ways and headed to their respective classes.

*After school*

Peter arrived at the tower straight from Delmar's after picking up snacks for the weekend. He had grabbed an assortment, ranging from potato chips to pretzel M&Ms.  He waved at Ms. Maldonado, the lady who commanded the reception area and dashed to the elevator, scanning his pass when prompted.

FRIDAY greeted him when the doors closed.

"How was your day Peter? Harley is already waiting for you. He told me to tell you, and I quote, "Peter, I hope you remembered my PRETZEL M&Ms not PEANUT M&M's like last time. If you forgot, I'm going to steal that new Lego set you were planning on building tomorrow. And I WILL hide it somewhere you'll never, ever, find it. Insert maniacal cackling, blah blah blah."

Peter stifled a laugh at Harley's message.

"Uh, well my day was the usual, you know. And tell Harley I got his stupid M&Ms. And I grabbed him something else too if he promises not to threaten the Legos again."

"Sure thing, Peter."

He exited the elevator to the floor which housed the labs he shared with Harley. There were multiple as the duo tended to accidentally blow things up and would need to have another place to work while repairs were being done. Needless to say, Tony was more than a little annoyed that his kids needed multiple labs because they kept blowing them up. But whatever, he loves them and will pay for it as long as he gets to blackmail them with all the ridiculous stories of what blew up and how it happened.

Harley looked up towards the door Peter walked through and lifted his welding mask off his face.

"Hand over the merchandise, blockhead." He said, his arm stretched towards the bag of goodies Peter was carrying.

"Only if you promise to leave the Legos alone, biotch." He replied.

Harley rolled his eyes and dramatically lifted his hand in the air as if he was testifying in court.

"I promise not to touch the Legos." He said in a half joking tone.

Peter handed him the pack of M&Ms as well as a container of Oreos.

"I still don't understand why you like pretzel M&Ms." Peter remarked. "There's too much pretzel and not enough chocolate."

Harley stared directly at him as he tore open the M&Ms and popped a few in his mouth.

"I don't understand why you don't like pineapple on pizza." Harley shot back as he swiveled around in his chair

Peter groaned.

"We are not having this discussion again."

"Peter you're an idiot if you don't like pineapple on your pizza."

"Harley, you're a disgrace to the entire state of New York if you do. Fruit is not supposed to go on a proper pizza."

Harley chucked a bolt at Peter's head.

"Hey!" He protested as he turned to look at Harley. And then he saw a glint in Harley's eyes.

"Pizza is a dish with everything from the food pyramid. You have grain, dairy, meat, vegetables, fats, and oh, wait, you don't like pineapple so you're missing out. You could be getting every nutrient from the food pyramid but you're an idiot so you miss your daily serving of delicious pineapple on your pizza."

"Oh my god, stop."

The boys busted out laughing for a full 3 minutes, eventually with Harley falling out of his chair. Tony walked in to find his kids cackling at who knows what, and one on the floor, almost incapacitated by his laughter. He sighed before clearing his throat to gain their attention.

The boys sobered up and finally stopped laughing but they had unshed tears left from the fun.

"What on earth were you two dying of laughter over? Should I call a therapist? Do I need to be concerned? Did you eat something that you shouldn't have?"

Harley sniggered as Peter was trying to keep a straight face.

"He was eating pretzel M&Ms!" Peter said, holding back his laughter. "The type that should be illegal!"

"Peter, you don't diss Pretzel M&Ms, they're an underappreciated member of the M&Ms family. If you think pretzel M&Ms should be illegal, you clearly haven't tried the raspberry ones." Harley replied while doing his best to keep his face straight. "If anything, you should call a therapist for Peter and help him overcome his aversion to pineapple on pizza."

Tony looked even more lost than he was before.

"Ok, I don't know what I'm supposed to make of this. FRIDAY, show me footage of what the hell happened while I wasn't here."

"Sure thing boss."

Friday pulled up security footage of Harley and Peter's conversation. Tony watched it as the two teens were snickering behind him. After he understood the situation he turned to his kids and let out a tired sigh.

"Ok, I don't understand your sense of humor, but I came to tell you that we're having Italian for dinner."

Peter pumped his fist and Harley just shrugged.

"Italian is fine by me I guess."

"All right kiddos, be in the dining room by 7ish or else I'll cut the power to these labs. We eat as a family."

*Time skip*

It was 2 am, Monday morning and everything was silent except for the faint noise of shuffling towards the ceiling.

Clint Barton was crawling around in the vents, obviously on his way to do something he probably shouldn't be.

He had lost a bet with Nat earlier and the punishment was that he had to steal something for blackmail off of FRIDAY's databases.

He quietly dropped out of a vent shaft into an important looking office. He didn't bother checking who it belonged to but he was already too far gone to ask.

"Ok Nat, what do you want me to look for?" He whispered into his earpiece.

"Check the computer on the desk. The password is written on a sticky note in your pocket."

He checked his pocket and there was indeed a post it with a password on it.

"Ok, what am I supposed to find?" He asked once he logged in.

"Look for footage from the labs." She said. "Check labs CTS2 and IAI1."

"CTS2 and IAI1, gotcha." He reaffirmed.

He browsed around until he found the cameras he needed.

"Ok, found em. What dates should I look at?"

"Look at this past Friday," She answered, "around 4:45 to 6:15 pm. Tony drank from a can of motor oil instead of his coffee cup. I would like this footage in my posession. For my entertainment, and possibly blackmail to pull on him."

"All righty, ok, uhhhh." He muttered as he searched through that window of time.

He watched snippets of the footage and fast forwarded a few times until he glimpsed footage of Harley swiveling around in his chair as Peter looked exasperated. He paused and rewound to see what the situation was.

As Clint watched the whole argument play out and the aftermath, a shit eating grin began to spread across his face. He emailed himself the whole interaction for his own entertainment (blackmail, cough cough) and went back to searching for what he originally came for. He eventually found it, sent it to Natasha, logged out of the computer, and climbed into the open vent.

"You get it?" Nat asked suspiciously.

"Oh yeah, I got it." He said, trying to hold back the mischievous laughter that was threatening to let loose. He checked his phone to see whether he got the email he sent to himself. But to his surprise and sudden panic, it was not there. His social media, however, was blowing up with comments about the two kids and who they were and theories people were spouting.

"Oh shit."

"What did you do, Clinton?" Nat asked in a threateningly monotone voice.

Clint banged his head on the vent, forgetting that he still had his comms on.

"I may or may not have accidentally exposed Peter and Harley as Tony's kids."

Nat was silent for a moment before she finally responded.

"Tony's probably going to kill you for this, so you should pack your bags right now. Make funeral arrangements as well and update your will."

"Ah shit."

*Monday morning, 6:45 am*

Peter woke up to his phone ringing. He groaned and turned on his side to ignore the call. The phone rang again and he sighed before reluctantly sitting up and grabbing his phone.

What the hell, who's calling this early?

He looked at his notifications and saw multiple missed calls and texts from Ned and MJ. Something must have happened because Ned had typed in all caps, 'PETER EVERYONE KNOWS! CALL ME NOW!' MJ's text just said, 'I knew already. Don't try to hide it from me whenever you come to school.'

Instantly, Peter was wide awake. Did the whole world know he was Spiderman? But how did this happen, who would leak that information and how did they get it?

He called Ned and before he could even say, "What's up?" Ned butted in with a sentence he was not expecting.

"Peter, when were you going to tell me your dad was Tony Stark?! This is even bigger than Spiderman! As your Guy in the Chair, I think this knowledge might have been missing in our conversations."

Peter was at a loss for words as he stood up.

"It's all over social media and people are going apeshit over this!"

"Ned, you shouldn't believe everything you read on the internet." Peter replied in a nervous tone as he began pacing back and forth in his room. "How do you know the source is credible? Remember what Ms. Hernandez said about credibility when giving information in an essays or whatever?"

"But Peter, Hawkeye was the one who posted it. You know, the Avenger who shoots arrows?"

Peter stopped pacing and froze midstep.

Uncle Clint was behind this? But why?

"You sure he wasn't hacked?" Peter asked as he feebly attempted to get out of this confrontation.

"No, it's security footage from a lab. Tony said in the video that you guys were a family."

Peter then realized that he couldn't worm his way out of this situation. The whole world knew he and Harley were brothers and the sons of Tony Stark. Of course this happened, why wouldn't it?

"I'm going to call you back, I need to talk to Clint." Peter said.

"Ok, just let me know if you and Harley are going to be ok or not." Ned replied.

"Bye Ned."

"Bye."

Peter hung up and took a deep breath before leaving his room to go find Clint.

He entered the kitchen and almost everyone was there except the one person he wanted to talk to.

"Hey, uh, where's uncle Clint?" Peter asked.

Uncle Steve looked up from his breakfast.

"He left last night. Family emergency."

"Uh huh, so correct me if I'm wrong but Clint left because dad was going to kill him, right?"

Suddenly everyone was avoiding eye contact with Peter. Yup, everyone knew what happened.

Just then, Tony walked in with a very irritated expression.

"I don't think you and Harley are going to be able to go to school today. Some kid from your school, Dash or something posted you go to school with him and know you both. So there are multiple news stations outside the tower and surrounding your school. Might be best to just stay home today."

"Is Uncle Clint still alive?" Harley asked as he walked in, yawning.

"He is alive," Tony responded "Not for much longer though."

"Dad, you can't just kill him." Peter protested. "It's not like he actually did anything that warrants his death."

"I don't think he meant to do it." Harley added. "He deleted it maybe 10 minutes after he posted it but other people recorded it on their own devices and re shared it. He probably realized what he had done and tried to delete it but of course, once it's out there, it's out there."

"Don't kill Uncle Clint, he's got a wife and kids. Besides, we need him on the team." Peter said.

"We don't need Clint," Tony said, waving his hand. "I already got a replacement set up."

Peter had not heard of this new team member that was apparently going to replace Clint.

"Who is it?" Harley asked curiously.

"Kate Bishop. She's already on her way here. Clint trained her to take over the mantle of Hawkeye anyway so it shouldn't be that big a deal." Tony shrugged. "She's a bit older than you two, 18 or 19, I can't remember at the moment."

"Ok, then, as long as she's trusted by you." Peter relented.

"Don't know what she might be like, but if Clint trained her, and they share similar personalities, whatever spirits above help us." Harley said solemnly.

Peter smacked Harley's arm.

"Hey!" He complained.

"She's not even here yet and you are badmouthing her already. Have some manners, dude."

"It doesn't matter at the moment right? You said it yourself, she's not here yet and I will 'have some manners' when she does."

All of a sudden, Peter heard a nearly imperceptible shuffling coming from above. He felt a shiver go down his spine and the instinct to get into a defensive position.

"He's right, you should have some manners young man." An unfamiliar voice boomed from above.

Harley looked around wildly in confusion.

"Who's there?! Are you a spirit from above???" He asked.

All of a sudden, a figure dropped out of the vent directly above Harley and tackled him to the ground.

"And that is Kate Bishop." Tony said, answering the question in everyone's mind.

Kate released Harley from her grip and she helped him up.

"Clint was right," She said, smiling. "Crawling through the vents to prank people is fun."

She looked up to the open vent and held out her arms, to everyone's confusion.

"Lucky, come on down!" She called.

To everyone's shock, a dog with one good eye poked his head out from the vent and jumped into Kate's arms.

"Oh crap, nobody has allergies to dog dander, right?" Kate asked, looking at everyone.

"Maybe? I'm not sure." Peter replied.

"Damn, I should have checked before bringing him, huh." Kate muttered.

Tony waved his hand at the dog.

"As long as he's potty trained, we should be fine." He said, trying to reassure her worries. "We're all fine with dogs."

Peter thought back to all the dogs he's pet on patrol. They always seemed happy to play with him and now there was a dog in the tower. Huzzah, he didn't get to only pet dogs on patrol now!

"Well, all's well that ends well, right?" Peter said.

"How about everyone gets acquainted with Kate?" Tony suggested. "It's not like you two are going to school today anyway."

Peter and Harley agreed and that day became a get to know the new team member day.

Peter texted Ned to let him know he was going to school the next day and invited him to the tower after school to meet someone. Oh the look on Ned's face when he found out would be priceless.

Taglist:

@frostedgiant

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[smol-and-grumpy]

EUPHORIA - Chapter 22

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: NSFW, flangst

WC: 3229

A/N: This chapter fills my ‘Impala sex’ square for @spnkinkbingo​​

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​ <3

THIS SERIES IS COMPLETE ON PATREON

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

It’s unfamiliar to drive with a bandage around his hand and it would be in the way for what he’s planning to do, so Dean takes it off mid-drive. He’ll tell her that he had to do some things at the club that involved him having to take it off. He doesn’t mind holding still for her to put another one on him. Preferably with her in his lap, because that shit’s really good, and he enjoyed every minute of it.

He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head when he thinks back to her asking him if she’s a good fuck. 

Jesus, how could she even think that she’s not? She’s all he thinks about since he sank his cock into her pussy. She’s the one he sees when he closes his eyes to rest. Dean could fucking live in her and if he’d go out that way, he wouldn’t even fucking mind! He’s sure that going out while being inside of her might be on the cards for him, because his heart beats so fast every time, it makes his fucking head spin. 

It’s true, he fucking loves fucking. He probably would not own a sex club if he doesn’t like it, but fucking with her is something else. Sure, she’s not that experienced, but maybe that’s just the thing that triggers his fancy. And maybe, just maybe, it’s because it’s her.

Dean knows why she might think that, and knowing it, makes him even angrier. It gets his blood boiling and fucking Cole can die in a fucking ditch. 

The Impala rumbles to a halt in front of a little one story house. The lights inside are on.

As soon as Dean gets out, Balthazar hurries out of his own car to come greet him. 

“You gave him the nosebleed, boss?” Balth grins and Dean sends him a glare, to which the other man quickly shuts his fucking mouth. 

“He harassed her, Balth, that’s what fucking happened!” Dean growls low and the other man looks down to his toes, unable to look Dean in the eyes. 

“You called the cops on him?” 

Dean snorts out a laugh, “Nah, I’ll do it my way,” 

“Dean, no,” Balthazar breathes out. 

“Dean, yes,” Dean’s grin grows wider.

Well, yeah, Balthazar’s not wrong. Maybe he should have called the cops, but again, they don’t really have any proof and Dean thinks that he has the upper hand.

He looks to the house and asks, “Is he alone?”

Balth nods, “Yeah, his girlfriend left for work two hours ago. She won’t be back til dawn.”

Dean shakes his head. Cole’s a fucking leech. He gets angrier when he thinks that maybe Y/N had to work for the both of them too? Jesus, he gets nauseous just thinking about it. She definitely did not deserve that. Not that anyone does, but she especially doesn’t.

He nods at the man before making his way to the door. Dean rings the bell and raps loudly against the wood. 

Strangely enough, Cole opens with not a care in the world, widening his eyes when he sees that it’s Dean. Just who did he think would come knocking at this time of the night? Some fucking dealer? Yeah, maybe some dealer. It wouldn’t surprise Dean. 

Cole’s quick to slam the door shut, but Dean’s hand is already pushing against the door and his foot is blocking it from closing, “I just want to talk, look, I’m sorry man,”

“Yeah, right,” Cole snorts, “Talk. Like that’s a thing you do.”

Cole’s not as dim as Dean thought, he has to give him that. Nonetheless, Dean pushes his way in. That fucking loser doesn’t stand a chance it’s almost too easy, he thinks, and he grins that cocky grin of his, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his hand goes around the other man’s throat, pushing him further into the house, and pins him to the wall. 

From up close, Dean can see Cole’s swollen nose, the area around it has started to bruise. Dean can’t help but admire his work a little. Maybe he’ll break Cole’s jaw next, depending on how he feels. 

He switches his hand with his elbow and is applying more pressure. The other man claws at his clothed arms while sputtering something incoherently. 

“You listen to me, Cole,” Dean whispers low, “You go near her again, you’ll be dead before the cops can fucking help you.”

“T— the fuck!” Cole spits out, and pushes Dean away with all his might, making Dean stagger back a couple of feet and he feels the other man’s fist connect with his shoulder, missing his face by seconds of good thinking on Dean’s part.

Dean manages to get the upper hand. It’s not that hard. Cole’s shorter than him, shorter than Sam and Dean normally always win against Sam. Cole also has less strengths. He throws punches like a fucking kid and it’s really pathetic of him to think that he could overpower Dean. 

With a blink of an eye, Dean sits on Cole’s back and pins one of his hands behind it. The other man winces in pain. He’s wriggling and squirming beneath Dean. It’s almost sad that he doesn’t put up more of a fight. 

“Get the fuck off me!” Cole calls out, “I’m calling the cops!”

“Yeah, you do that. Tell them that you fucking broke your restraining order while you’re at it, will ya?” Dean snarls and applies more pressure, pulling at Cole’s hand. Maybe he’ll break it? He hasn’t decided yet.

“What do you fucking want?” Cole mutters, his breathing ragged.

“I want you to fucking leave my girl alone!”

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Cole snorts and Dean clubs him over the head. That fucker just really doesn’t know when to shut up.

“You know what?” Dean smirks darkly, “I might do just that, yeah.”

“And you think you can get away with it?”

Seriously, that dude just doesn’t know who he’s talking to. Probably was never the brightest star on the horizon. Which makes Dean really wonder how the fuck someone like Y/N ended up with someone like Cole.

“I don’t think that,” Dean says calmly, “I know that. I have friends in high places, Cole. You do as I say or you’ll see what happens. It’s your choice.”

Dean gets off him and helps the man up before he pats Cole’s shoulder, “I have people watching you. You get too close to my girl one more time, I’ll hunt you the fuck down.”

Turning, Dean walks to the door but he’s aware of Cole. Would feel if the man lashed out at him. His senses are sharp.

But instead of lashing out, Cole starts to laugh, “Your girl? Man, she’s not even fucking worth i—”

Dean’s fist connects with Cole’s jaw and it breaks with a loud crunching sound.

He looms over Cole, who’s holding his jaw and Dean crouches down, lowering himself to whisper into Cole’s ear, “Nobody touches what’s fucking mine, understand?”

  As Y/N is finishing up the page and sends it out for print, her phone lights up.

  D: I’m sorry, there’s a hold up at the club. I’ll be there in 10.

  She smiles a little at the message as she sees that it’s exactly two hours to the dot since he left. Thinks it’s absolutely cute how he doesn’t want her to think that he forgot about picking her up. 

  Y/N: No worries, take your time. I’ll probably even need another 20 to clean up everything here as I will be out for the next few days.

  That’s not even a lie.

Ugh. She has to go to Washington. And she’ll be there for two nights. Two fucking nights without Dean. She honestly doesn’t know if she will survive. He’s quite addictive if she can say so.

 *

When she shut down her computer and packed away her laptop her phone lights up.

  D: I’m waiting down in the foyer. 

  Y/N smiles to herself and says goodbye to the last remaining colleague before she takes the elevator down. 

When the elevator opens up, Dean’s talking to the security guy. They seem to be in deep conversation but when Dean notices her, he turns his head and greets her with a bright smile.

His hair is a little messy, and he’s dressed in casual jeans and a simple black shirt, a plaid shirt thrown over it. It’s still a look she has to get used to. She wonders, though, why he changed? It also seems like he showered and the bandage is off. 

“Hey,” Dean greets her, bending down a little to kiss her, “Sorry, it got a little messy and I had to take another shower.”

“Did it?” She asks, and it might have come out more accusatory than she intended. 

He frowns at her, knowing exactly what she thinks, “Jesus, baby, are we still discussing this?” Cupping her chin between his fingers, he points it up to look at him, “How many times do I have to say it? I’m not fucking anyone else, alright? Not when you fuck me so good already anyway,” 

He grins down at her and god, how could she think things like that when he’s been so helpful and she can really see that he cares for her? She feels dumb. 

“There was an accident with the champagne fountain, you can ask Cas.” He whispers, before he molds his lips to hers and how can she not believe him now. It’s not really fair that he uses his charming techniques to get her to calm down. It’s not fucking fair that it actually works either.

Dean breaks the kiss to take her bag from her hand and walks her out of the building, his other hand firm around her waist.

“When do you have to leave tomorrow?”

“My train’s going at 9am.” 

“Good,” Dean grins as he opens the trunk and drops in her belongings, “Get in, I wanna take you somewhere.”

*

After about another thirty minutes, and a drive through their old neighborhood, Dean stops at a place she only knew from hearsay. 

It’s by the back entrance of the big park. The car park is surrounded by big old trees, making it a perfect place for teens to meet and do all kinds of naughty things. She never knew because nobody ever brought her here. Y/N heard that they were illegally drinking and smoking here, heard that some had sex in their cars as well. 

Dean kills the engine and looks at her, one eyebrow raised, “You know where we are?” 

She snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, why are we here?” 

“Because,” Dean says and reaches under his seat to roll the bench seat back to the max, “It was always my fantasy to bring you out here.” 

He tugs at her arm, flinches a little because his hand is still hurt, but he wouldn’t let it slow him down and she finds herself straddling him, his arms are around her waist, holding her tight while he cranes his neck. Their noses touch.

“You wanted to bring me out here?” Y/N whispers, rubbing their noses together.

“Uh-huh,” 

“Yeah?”

Dean chuckles, “Yeah.”

“What did you want to do? Get me drunk? Get me high?”

“Nuh-huh,” He mumbles and tries to kiss her but she pulls her face away with a grin.

“Nuh-uh?”

“No,” Dean breathes out, “Wanted to do just this,” He kisses her and she lets him, lets him tease along her lip with his tongue, “Kiss myself stupid on your soft lips, wanted to feel you wriggling in my lap,”

“Ah,” She giggles and it’s her who kisses him now and Dean leans his head back, letting her rain kisses all over his face, his jaw, his neck. She licks a stripe up his throat to his ear, sucks in the lobe and he groans out low. His breathing is heavy, his heart is beating as fast as hers. 

Y/N grinds in his lap, feels him hardening in his pants, thinks that she’ll ruin it if she doesn't stop because she’s getting wetter by the second. She breaks the kiss and Dean’s mouth chases after her. 

She chuckles out in a whisper, “Dean, your pants,”

“What’s with my pants?” He’s frowning a little.

“I’ll soil them.”

Dean grins, it’s all cocky and wide, “Take it off,”

“Here?” Her eyes widen.

“Yeah, come on, there’s nobody around,” 

Well, he’s not wrong about that. But still. Sex in a public place? She definitely has never done that. Which is the reason why it’s probably so fucking appealing. She can’t lie that it doesn’t turn her on.

“‘K,” She smiles at him and her hands work on his belt buckle before they pull at his zipper. 

“Good girl,” He lets out a groan, kisses her cheek and jaw and licks at her earlobe while she’s concentrating on getting the zipper down. His one hand goes below her shirt, fingers tweaking at one of her nipples. Distracting is what it is. 

She opens his jeans wide enough to take his cock out of it’s confines, leaves the elastic of his underwear just below his balls and she actually bursts out laughing when she sees his cock. 

Dean gasps, “That was not the reaction I was expecting, but okay,”

Y/N’s still laughing when she kisses him, “You did that for me?”

“Only for you,” Dean grins and sinks his teeth into her bottom lip, “I was hoping you’d be delighted. Did not expect to get laughed at my dick, though.”

“‘M sorry,” 

“That’s okay but never laugh at my cock again, okay?”

“Promise,” She giggles as she wraps her hand around it, it’s hot and heavy in her hand. 

Dean wears a cock ring. The same one she held up for him last time. The one that has a little vibration thingy attached. 

“Come on, turn it on and ride me,”

There’s a wide grin on her face and she does what she’s told, pushes at the little power button on the side and Dean groans when it jumps to life. 

“Fuck,” He chuckles, “Don’t know how long I can hold off, though.” 

Y/N smacks her hand against Dean’s chest, “I swear if you come now, I won’t talk to you again!”

“I would never do that,” Dean lets out a whine as he bucks his hips and she knows that she needs to hurry to get on that before it’s over.

Lifting herself on her knees, her hand goes beneath her skirt and she hooks her finger into the crotch of her underwear, pulls it to the side while holding her skirt up with her other hand. Dean already has his vibrating dick in his hand and threads the head through her slick as she lowers herself some more.

“Jesus, you’re so wet baby,” The slicking sound of wet skin rubbing together can be heard in the car, even above the vibrating sound. 

She throws her head back a little, closes her eyes when she sits down further, impaling herself on Dean’s cockhead. The vibrations from his cock travels to her cunt and already it clenches, making him curse and grunt. 

Taking him further, she slowly sits down, moaning out when she’s fully seated, the vibration is right at her clit.

“Oh my god, fuck—,” She grits her teeth before taking her bottom lip between them, biting down on it because she knows that she can’t make too loud a sound.

Dean notices her grimacing, knows that she wants to moan and he quickly places his hand on the back of her neck, draws her down and kisses her. He drinks up her moans, sucks in her tongue and she’s doesn’t think she can even breath because it feels so fucking great. 

He parts with a peck on her lips, leaves his hand on the back of her neck and holds her there, “Grind on it, baby, make yourself come,” 

She nods her head at him and starts to move her hips, slow at first. God, it feels really great, the vibration hits her right and Dean lets himself sink lower, lays the back of his head on the seat and she braces both her hands on either side of his head on the seat, fingernails digging into the leather.

“You look so beautiful,” Dean says and he looks at her like he’s really in awe. She thinks that he’s lying because nobody can look good from that angle. But she can’t dwell on it, she’s so close to coming. 

Dean’s big hand grabs at her ass cheeks, kneading and spanking down on them, making her yelp and giggle. She can feel that one of his hands has less strength and she makes a mental note to fix it up once they get home. 

The windows of the car start to fog up, and she’s sure that their movement can be seen on the outside, the car must be rocking. It’s just... since she’s with Dean, she cares less about these things, she’s more daring because she trusts him. She absolutely can’t say that she doesn’t love the new person she has become.

“Does this come close to your fantasy?” She’s breathing heavily as she looks down to him, sees him looking back at her with a bright smile on his face. 

“Better,” He whispers, “God, you have no idea how many nights I stayed awake thinking about you.”

He thought about her? A lot? If her face wouldn’t have been flush from the fucking, she thinks it’s would be even more now. 

“Can you come for me baby?” Dean swallows hard, “I can’t fucking hold out any longer.”

Y/N thinks it’s weird. She thought that cock rings should make the guy go on for longer, but apparently, Dean’s dick doesn’t work like that.

“Uh-huh,” She mumbles, starts to grind on him faster and Dean’s hand are on her hips, helping her move as good as he can, “God, you’re so deep and the vibrations, fuck— I’m coming, Dean, I’m—”

“I got you,” He whispers, and he lets her bury her face next to his, as he bucks his hips, driving his dick deeper in. 

Her legs start to tremble, her cunt clenches as she gushes around him. He comes too, grunts out some curses that she can not understand, while his fingertips dig into the flesh around her waist, holding her tight as he bucks his hips a couple more times. 

“Fuck,” Dean chuckles, tilts his head to kiss her forehead. He moves his hand in between them and down to the ring, switching off the vibrations. Dean kisses at the place where her neck meets her shoulder, licks at her flesh, “Better than I could have ever imagined.”

She chuckles into his skin, and they stay like that for a while longer. Y/N already dreads him slipping out of her. She hates the feeling of the emptiness she feels after sex. Especially with him. Dean knows that too, because she can feel that he wants to hold out for as long as possible too. 

There’s a sharp knock at their window that makes her hold her breath and sends her heart racing.

Chapter 23

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[sometimes-i-write-4-you]

Lupa-Tundra thing - Hamish Duke X reader

request by @pamelalur15​: Hi can i get an imaginr with Hamish of The Order where the reader is part of The Knights and he has a huge crush on her but doesnt want to tell her.

a\n: for the sake of the fanfic I made up a hide called Lupa and she's like.. the mom friend of the hides.

"Hey" I smiled at my tall, blond, blue-eyed.. friend. Just a friend. "Hey" he smiled back. I entered the "reliquary" As Jack insisted on calling it. Hamish stood there, reading a diary he believed belonged to the former champion who was Tundra. "Journal" his voice corrected me. Even in my thoughts, he's still an arrogant prick.

He looked up from the book to catch me staring at his perfect character - With his sharp bone structure, and perfectly combed hair, and those blue eyes that looked at you like they can see right through your bullshit.

"I was just, uh, admiring the outfit. I like the pants chain, very, uh, up-to-date fashion with---" I started mumbling, embarrassed to be caught yet again. "Belt chains became popular back in the 50's, so I wouldn't necessarily call it up-to-date fashion" Hamish corrected me. I sigh and nod, "yeah, obviously, I knew that" I said, but it's the least convincing acting I've done ever since my shining moment as "tree #3" in my school's production of Peter pan.

He laughed and took one last look at the book before putting it aside.

"So, why did you call me?" I asked, biting my lips as I looked around. The place was a mess, and it looked like Hamish just did some heavy researching.  "I need your help going through these books" he said. "what?" I said, confused. "see, there are a lot of books, a lot of information. I'm one person, I can't look through it all" Hamish explained. I guess it makes sense. I grabbed the closest book and started reading it.

"do you want a drink?" Hamish offered. I was in the finale pages of "The History Of Hides", a journal of a knight from god-knows-how-many years ago. it listed known hides through-out the years and certain patterns, like Midnight sacrificing himself. I wonder if Lilith has a crush on Randall or Hamish then.

"sure" I replied, and as I started to say my favorite drink, he said the same. "-yeah, I know" he laughed, and went to make it. As I finished the book, he came back and handed me my glass. "thank you" I smiled, and he grinned back. i swear, whenever this small smile spread across his face, my heart starts to go so fast I'm scared Hamish's enhanced senses can pick that up.

"so, learned anything interesting?" he asked. "turns out Midnight usually sacrifices himself" I say, "dodged a bullet then, ha?" I laugh. "yeah, definitely" Hamish says as he took a sip of his drink. When I was accepted into the knights it was Silverback, Midnight and Lupa. Both Midnight and Lupa came out of their trunk that night, but Lupa got to me first. Silverback is sexist apparently, because according to the journal I read his hide always chooses guys.

"how about you?" I asked. "well, nothing much, it was all mentioned in the other books as well" he replied. "oh" I said, and we kept talking until my favorite song cut him mid-sentence.

"shit, Hamish, I really need to go" I said, "it's my 'go to bed already' alarm". I started searching for my bag between the piles of books. "you have an alarm for that?" he asked, and I nodded. "yes, I get really sucked into rom-coms" I confess, lowering my voice as I finally find the bag. "okay" he says, "bye then". He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into a hug.

"he did what?!" Lilith screams. "oh my god, Lilith lower your voice" I sigh. "sorry" she says, giving a side-eye to a girl who looked at us weird. "anyways, yeah, it's so weird" I say. "Hamish? Hugging someone? That's not weird, that's supernatural. And coming from, you know, me, that's something" she corrects me, and I laugh. "yeah" I say, "that's some supernatural shit right there. Sam? Dean? Got your new case".

"hi" Hamish smiles at me from across the hall, and I smile back. "oh, let me help you with that" he says, rushing to me to grab my books. He sneaked in a subtle hug as he grabbed the pile in my hands, which featured Philosophy 101 or whatever it was called, a notebook for notes, a notebook for scribbles and the essay I wrote yesterday. "thanks" I say. Lilith looks at him, and then at me. "freaking supernatural" she mutters. "ha?" Hamish asks. "nothing, we just talked about the TV show, supernatural" I quickly say before Lilith will say the real topic we discussed. We arrive to class, and Hamish puts down the books at my seat, waving at me before going to the board.

"oh my god, nice move" the girl by my side whispers. "Beth, for the 100th time I am not – quote unquote – banging the professor" I sigh. "oh, I know, but he definitely wants a piece of that" she says, discussing the fact she's pointing at me by using her pencil to do that. "yeah, whatever" I reply, not interested in arguing, and she smiled with satisfaction. "just go for it, it's an easy A if you ask me" she says, and I roll my eyes. If only he meant nothing more to me.

The day was finally over, and after hanging out with the knights it was finally my time to get 'home' meaning my dorm. Hamish offered to walk me, which made Lilith look at me with wide-open eyes. When I told her what Beth said, she agreed, although she phrased it differently. "Hamish is into you, that's the only explanation" she said, and the more I heard it the more i believed it. It might just be the fact I wanted it to be true.

We walked quietly, and it was nice. The campus is so beautiful, and the moonlight makes it so… calming. Maybe it's the fact you can actually see the view and the view is not couples making out, students smoking and fighting…

"I love how the moonlight makes this place look" Hamish said. "dude, I know you're senses are sharp but you just straight up read my mind" I laughed, and so did he. "anything new you found today?" I asked, "you spent a lot of time in the reliquary-" "don't call it that, we are not giving Jack that win-" "why not?" I laugh, and he just sighs and answer my question.

"I did, yeah. Turns out the original Lupa and Tundra had an affair" he said, looking at me, "and ever since, their champions are just… drawn to each other, they always end up falling in love" he cuts the eye content I finally dared to make. "say what now?" I reply. "i- yeah no, I just made that up" he says, "I thought it would make something easier to say, but now that I am actually hearing it out loud, it's ridicules. Sounds straight out of a really bad teen drama" he says, and for once in my life I hear him nervous.

"what's the thing you wanted to say?" I ask and stop walking for two reasons: this is a serous conversation, and my dorm-building door is right next to us.

"well, (y\n), I like you. A lot, actually, and not in the same way I like the other knights" Hamish says. "oh, so like what? you like me as a-" "as a girlfriend, I hope" he cuts me off. "oh" I say, and with the lack of words I go for actions. My hand reaches for his cheek, and his hands reach for my waist.

He leans down, and I pull him closer and he pulls me into the kiss. our lips move against the other's in perfect synch, it's like the Lupa-Tundra thing wasn't made up and we are simply meant to be together.

"so you ARE banging the professor" Beth says the moment I walk into the dorm room. "I- we literally just kissed for the first time. Also, why do you know that, you fucking stocker, did you watch us from the window-" I say, and she nods with a "uh-ha". "-And he is not a professor, he's a TA" I correct her, but her satisfied smile doesn't come off. "whatever" she says and gets under her blanket. I sigh and wave at Hamish through the window. He smiles at me, and I just want to feel his lips against mine again, so I do what anyone would do and leave my room. I open the door to find Hamish with his hand in the air, ready to knock. I grab his cheeks and kiss him. "exactly what I wanted to do" he smiles into the kiss, adjusting his hands around my waist.

"go bang the TA somewhere else, I need some sleep to work on the essay, unlike you I don't bang the TA" Beth calls from under the covers, and I bite my lips trying to holdback the laughter. He smiles, "well, I should get back, Lilith and Randell must be wondering why It takes me so long" Hamish said, and gave me a short sweet kiss for goodbye. "Bye, Hamish" I say, waving, "bye Mr. Duke!" adds Beth.

[saltedstorm]

* COURTNEY EATON, CIS FEMALE + SHE/HER  | you know MEREDITH AUSTEN, right? they’re TWENTY-FOUR, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, THEIR WHOLE LIFE? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to DREAMS BY THE CRANBERRIES like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole KETCHUP COVERED FRIES, MASON JARS FILLED WITH PAINT WATER SCATTERED AROUND THE ROOM, AND HANDMADE WIND CHIMES thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is JUNE 10TH, so they’re a GEMINI, which is unsurprising, all things considered. 

tw - organ donation & chronic illness

hey pals!! my name is bee ( 22, she/her ) and im excited to introduce my babe meredith.  please don’t hesitate to hmu for plotting, you’re totally welcome to message me here or on discord! ( god of destruction#5393 )  

okay here is mere!  i’ve only played her once before so i hope to develop her further here in irving!  tldr; grew up in irving, donated a kidney to her sister as a teen, now dedicates herself to doing what she wants and living life to the fullest, artist, waitress, loves the sea

p a s t

meredith grew up in irving with her mother, father, & older sister in a modest house on orion avenue. as a kid she felt trapped in the small seaside tourist town, but it’s grown on her.  now she could never imagine leaving.

from a young age she was always on the beach, running through the sunshine, surfing, snorkeling, & sailing.  

she always did fairly well in school, but she was always much more interested in the social aspect. 

when meredith was a teen, her older sister went into kidney failure after a long battle with chronic kidney disease throughout childhood.  she regularly spent time in the hospital as her sister received treatments.

at fourteen, mere was tested and found to be a positive match for her sister, and volunteered to donate her kidney to get her sister off dialysis.  they were able to get court approval for the surgery, and thus she became one kidney lighter.

having a single kidney may cause some people to live extra cautiously, but meredith and her sister had learned at a very young age how quickly all of life’s pleasures can be ripped away from you without warning so they made a vow to always live on their own terms and never deny themselves excitement or fun.  

when she graduated she had the option to go away for school, but she decided to stay.  she went to a local community college where she got a degree in studio art and hung around the only home she’d ever known.  

p r e s e n t

mere currently works at the scuba as a waitress and occasional bartender when they’re short staffed.  it’s not a dream job but she doesn’t mind it.  she makes good tips and she doesn’t take any shit from her coworkers or customers.  

occasionally she does work around town, she’s painted a few murals for local businesses & the community.  painting is her favorite medium, so it’s usually what you can find her doing if she’s not in the water.  

she’s often hanging outdoors whether rollerskating through a farmers market, swimming in the ocean, or sunbathing on her roof.  lately she’s also been practicing making cocktails.

currently lives in delphinus heights with rowan

despite being the youngest sibling, meredith definitely has big sister energy.  at a young age, she was placed in a sort of caretaker role when it came to her sister.  though she may not always initially come off this way, at her core mere likes to take care of people.  you need a place to crash for a few days? someone to drive you home bc you got too drunk? got in a fight? arrested? she’s got you.  she might just ring you out for it too.  it’s all out of love.

p e r s o n a l i t y

direct - meredith tends to speak her mind.  she is strong in her opinions, and isn’t usually afraid to share them.  she’s outspoken & proud.  this can get her into trouble, both with friends and authority.

playful - despite this, she tries not to take her self too seriously.  she likes to have fun.  she’s not a hardcore party girl, she’s much more into a laid back vibe.  watching the stars from her rooftop, bonfire on the beach, sneaking into somewhere she doesn’t belong.

loyal - mere loves her friends, and she would do anything for them.  a talk shit get hit kinda girl.  see the following.

stubborn - meredith likes her life, and she isn’t a big fan of change.  she’s afraid of losing what she loves, and can get very defensive when things threaten her routine.

p l a y l i s t

island in the sun // wheezer

dreams // the cranberries

to whom it may concern // sam spiegel

can you discover ? // discovery

three little birds // bob marley & the wailers

carolina // harry styles

kokomo // the beach boys

kiss me // sixpence none the richer

cool for the summer // demi lovato

margaritaville // jimmy buffet

upside down // jack johnson

p e o p l e

friends - her ride or die besties, new acquaintances, locals she went to school with, fellow artists, coworkers from scuba, regulars she serves all the time, people she parties with, etc!  we can discuss & brainstorm

roommate(s) - i imagine mere living in an apartment or a house with one or a few friends.  expect lots of plants, thrifted furniture, paint splatters, and mismatched dishes.

exes - mere has lived in irving her whole life so she’s bound to have some previous relationships & flings so gimme them all.  she’s also pansexual, so these relationships could be with anyone. maybe someone she was with for a really long time and everyone thought they’d be together forever but they broke up.  could still be amicable, could still have feelings, or could hate each other now.

enemies - meredith can be quite blunt at times so it’s probably made her a few enemies.  could be someone she just doesn’t get along with, someone that she’s pissed off, someone that fucked with one of her friends, etc.

romantic - any and all current romantic relationships too pls! maybe someone she hooks up with on occasion, someone who keeps trying to ask her out but she won’t bite, someone she’s had feelings for for awhile, etc.  again, we can brainstorm if you’re interested!

family - i’d love for her to have some family in the bay whether it’s siblings & cousins, or whatever.  i know her ethnicity can be hard to match so adopted or step siblings are welcome!  

& more!

[vcg73]

Glee Memories

Someone reblogged an old post to which I had contributed this run-down of my entire Glee fan experience. It made me laugh to read it, because I cannot deny ANY of the reactions even now. This is truly what it was like to watch the show in original air date Fox TV real time - endless mid-season hiatuses and all. Reposting just my own section:

Season 1 - SO good and fun! I want to see more of this!  Kurt, I love you. You’re so funny and I especially loved the second half of the season when you started singing solos and being a Cheerio!  Even the characters I didn’t really embrace I still want to learn more about. And the songs, and the hope for next year’s competitions…  Damn you, summer hiatus!

Season 2 - OMG, not as fresh as last year but still some amazing stuff!  Burt and Carole are cute together, though a little oblivious. Why didn’t we ever get any blended Hudmel family scenes?  Especially at Christmas.  *pout* Didn’t care for Kurt being basically sidelined at Dalton Academy for half the season, and his crush is kind of an oblivious jerk, but I have hope. Things much better by the end with Kurt back at McK and no joy to the bullies. Can’t quite make up my mind if I want to forgive Karofsky. He was awful, but also terrified. I’ll make up my mind next year. Aw, Jean Sylvester has died, I liked her.  Finn, a funeral should not inspire you to dump one girl and chase another. You big drip. Too bad about Nationals, but it’s okay that they didn’t go straight to the top. More reason to put out all the stops next year!  I liked this season a lot overall. Damn you, summer hiatus!

Season 3 - What the fuck has happened to this show? Blaine transfers in, acts like a dick, steals opportunities and insults people, but by the end every single character is completely up his ass. Wha-?  Wait, are Finchel a couple again for the 4,869th time, or are they broken up again?  I can’t keep up.  Am I really supposed to care about the suddenly evil Warblers and their smirking meerkat boss? Cause I don’t.  Warbler Council I miss you.  Shue, you’re horrible, get off my screen. Sue, go with him, you’re not funny anymore. Kurt ends up stuck in Lima with no prospects, while Rachel of the world’s worst audition gets his spot at the fancy performing arts school? What the hell!  And what do you mean, he only applied to ONE school, that makes no sense given his historic ambition to escape Lima, and determination to help Finn get out too. Someone at NYADA is a lazy bastard who couldn’t be bothered to send out the acceptance letters until JUNE, so most of their prospectives have probably accepted other offers by now.  This entire season made no sense and left a bad taste in my mouth. Thank God for summer hiatus!

Season 4 - Better in some respects. Really stupid in others. Kurt does an amazing audition and gets a second chance (that he should have had the first time) to get into his school.  I’ll take it.  Blaine, you’re a lying, cheating, selfish sack of shit and I’ve given up hoping you’ll ever improve. Just go away and stop horning in where you don’t belong. Adam Crawford, you’re a cinnamon roll too good for this world, but no way too good for Kurt. :)  I’m not usually a shipper, but you’re forcing me to ship hard.  New Glee Club, your boring clone selves need to step it up and show some originality if you want anyone to like you. Uh, wow, did that nasty Cheerio girl really try to kill the other girl by making her anorexic and totally get away with that with no consequences? Epic fail. Shue, you’re revolting. Oh, Unique. I like you, but why did you leave a star position at Carmel only to be meek about being shoved into the background at McKinley?  Really thought Blaine might get offed in that stink-bomb of a school shooting episode. It would have had emotional resonance for others and retired that character with a shred of dignity. Wasn’t that the point of having people declare Blaine teen angel/Jesus-standin for half the season? But no. Nothing happens and they chuck Becky-used to be cool but now is just super annoying-Jackson under the bus instead. (Also, why did nobody on the New York side even seem to know this headline-making event even happened?) Rachel, taking insensitivity and selfishness to new heights in New York. Why is Kurt suddenly your care-taker and general servant? Blech. Sarah Jessica Parker, completely wasted from great starting potential. Did Sam’s brain fall out in the deep end of the swimming pool and float away? Cause, whoa. Finn? Finn! Pay attention, dude. Cut your losses and go to your classes at Ohio state (or wherever). Burt, thank you for squashing that stupid proposal idea. But where is Adam?  Come back, adorable little cupcake!  Summer hiatus, thank you, I need a break but kinda like where everyone finally ended at the last of this year. This has definite potential.

Season 5 - Dead Finn = sadness. I kind of wish they had just retired him to off screen college somewhere. Wait, what?  God Damn It Writers! You can’t just transplant Finchel’s planned storyline to a totally different couple and expect it to make perfect sense, especially with no work or real character improvement to the horrible hair-gelled menace!  Copy glee club remains boring, and I don’t give a rat’s ass about their wash-rinse-repeat romances or lifeless competition performances. What the heck has happened to the timeline of this show?  Where did Adam go? Oh hey, it’s Demi Lovato and Adam Lambert!  Aww, I really like Elliott. It’s about time Kurt got a genuine friend. Rachel, just go away. I can’t deal with you anymore. Burt has been replaced by a pod-person. Creepy puppets more lifelike than most of their human counterparts by now. One Three Hill, I love you!  But I can already see that this is another great start with soon to be wasted potential when the contracts run out.  Damn it, writers! Don’t put Blaine in NYADA, that makes no sense at all.  If this school was as particular as you claimed, he wouldn’t have even made it to the audition round. Combat Jocks are all hot for Kurt, YESSSS!  Santana, I’ve never liked you because you’re horrid to everyone but you’re finally starting to grow on me a little. Aw, Chris Colfer’s episode plays like old time Glee!  Fun. More, please. Shirley MacLaine gives me the creeps as the old cougar lady. And we’re taking an early hiatus after shedding viewers like snake-skin all season. Can’t say I’m not relieved. I’m determined to see this show through, but my god…  

Season 6 - Only a dozen episodes this year? I can make it.  Ooo, Kurt dumped the albatross and sent him packing. That’s promising.  Rachel’s ego blew up in her face and she’s back in Ohio. Even more promising.  New New Directions, I surprisingly actually like you guys a little, though I liked One Three Hill much better. (And the Apples, whatever happened to those folks?) This could actually end with a bang instead of a whimper!  Aaand, I spoke too soon. Kurt get your cute butt out of Ohio, you can do so much better in New York, preferably single and dating new appreciative men!  Whoa, Sue is full on demented and dangerous this year. Why is she still in a teaching position again? Shue, you’re useless. Get off my screen. Santana previous potential goes right to hell in one fell swoop. Nice briefly knowing you, emotional development. Kurt, I’m serious, go back to NYADA and find whatever locker you left your spine in please. DO NOT take that asshat back for the 8,937th time, please!  He’s not worth it.  You … what …?  Oh my God, he did it, and fucking Dave Karofsky actually helped them along.  *beats head on wall*  No, please tell me everyone isn’t about to bend over backwards to put Rachel back on top of the heap again!  *sigh* That’s it. I’m done. 7 episodes left of this series and I just can’t take it anymore.  The writers-room monkeys have mixed pieces from 10 different puzzles, mashed them into a frame with a mallet, eaten the finished product, shit it into their hands, and tossed it at the few remaining fans still watching through the bars.

And that’s what you (lucky souls) missed on Glee!

[scriptaed]

i’m not your daddy;

genre: fluff and... just fluff; dad!yoongi; parent!au; yes, crack!erin is back;

pairing: yoongi x reader; 

length: 2.5k; (i keep lying to myself that these are drabbles)

synopsis: learning that his daughter no longer wishes to wed him but rather his now-arch-enemy jungkook marks the most soul-crushing day your husband has ever had to endure. no one, and he means no one, is more deserving of his angel than daddy min himself, and he’s willing to do anything to earn his daughter’s heart back.

Daddy; it could mean two completely different things in two very polarizing worlds. The walls of the bedroom have borne witness to the sultry one, and the daughter born as a blessing reminder of the fiery nights persists to chant the beloved title, for there could never be another man she loves more than her father. Your husband, formerly known as your daddy in the sheets, never coveted for a child like the way you did with such passion on each prospective night of conceiving; yet, when you watch him gently cuddle his minion in his lap, tender eyes softening as he plays along to his clone’s daily antics, the whole universe can tell: only she could be daddy’s little girl. 

“Do you want—” the four year old stumbles over her words “—tea, mummy?”

“No, but thank you very much dear,” you chime, nodding a head at the man behind her. “Why don’t you ask daddy if he wants a cup?”

Juria’s doe-like eyes sparkle at the mention of her father as she attempts to crane her neck only to plummet into the soft embrace of Yoongi’s lap. From down below, she peers up to meet the quizzical gaze of her father’s. 

“And daddy?” she laughs over whatever inside joke all four year olds seem to telekinetically share. 

“Hm?” he hums while ever so slightly bouncing his knees in a fruitful method to entertain the child. 

“I ask if you—” the mixture of her giggles melting in the low chuckles of his renders your heart fluttering “—want some tea, daddy? Mummy says to spill you some tea.”

“Oh? Spill?” Yoongi quirks his head, shooting a less than surprised glimpse at you. Unfazed by his glare, you only shrug with a mischievous, pressed grin adorning your lips. Your husband rolls his eyes and returns to where his beloved awaits, “it’s pour, Juria, pour some tea.”

“But mummy says spill.” 

“I swear to God, Y/N,” Yoongi turns to mutter at you under his breath, “if I see a mini me running around and spewing the shit that teens say nowadays—”

“—shit…?” 

The entire room grows silent, Yoongi visibly filled with tension at the consequences of his own vital mistake. The child simply darts her pristine eyes between her parents—better known as sinners, unbeknownst to the child of God. Completely out of the loop yet entertained, she watches your struggle to keep your lips from quivering in the wakes of an erupting cackle. Yoongi, on the other hand, stares at you with those seemingly apathetic glare of his, but you know your husband better than anyone—he’s petrified to the very gut and you can’t help but smirk at the bullets he’s sweating.

“Shit...take mushrooms!” Yoongi exclaims louder than necessary. “Mommy forgot to cook the… mushrooms.”

“So what’s the tea for, Juria?” you ask, laughing after having noticed Yoongi’s slump of relief. 

Your child’s pigtails bob as she “spills” imaginary tea into her cup for Kookie, her favorite stuffed bunny, “wedding.”

“Wedding?” Yoongi practically smiles into his words, eyes lighting up like stars in the dark night sky. Here we go, for the hundredth time… “Is it daddy and Juria’s wedding?”

Yoongi had always suggested having a baby boy if you were so adamant on having children… as if you could choose. According to him, he would be too awkward of a dad to a girl, he doesn’t know how to dress a girl, and he wouldn’t be able to be himself around a girl; but here he is, completely smitten head over heels after that fateful night where his daughter had proclaimed her father’s hand in marriage. 

“No—” your lips fall agape in shock and his in absolute horror “—Juria is marrying Jungkook oppa.”

“Jungkook?” Yoongi repeats, aghast by her adamant nods. “Jungkook? Not daddy? Are you sure?” 

This moment had always been bound to happen someday. The both of you knew it. Her love for her father had been adorably misconstrued in modern times and the boys and you had ran off with it as an ongoing gag; even so, your heart sinks at the ear-piercing shatters belonging to that of Yoongi’s

“Well, Juria,” you interject when Yoongi simply stares at his child, blinking blankly, “you need our permission for your wedding. You can’t just marry anyone—”

“—yeah, no,” Yoongi jolts back to reality, shaking his head with his seemingly chilled composure. 

“Why?!” your child whimpers but Yoongi persists cooly. 

“Jungkook is too handsome. You’ll be competing against too many girls.”

“Uh…” you panic at the flush that arises in Juria’s cheeks and clashes with Yoongi’s lack of awareness. “How about… Taehyung?”

“Too out there, too handsome,” he shakes his head again. “Have you seen him and Jungkook together?” 

This time, your daughter has her own suggestion. “Namjoon oppa!” 

“Way too philosophical,” he ignores the limited vocabulary of his child. “You won’t understand him.”

“Hoseok oppa?” 

“He dances too much. He’ll sleep at work and forget about you. Worst of all, he stinks of sweat. You don’t want a stinky husband, do you?”

You’re baffled by your husband’s brainwashing activities when Juria quickly shakes her head. “Oh, Jimin oppa! He’s is my faaaavorite—”

“—he’s taken.”

“By who…?” you narrow your eyes at him. 

“By… work. Jimin is too dedicated to work. He’s practically married to it.”

“How about Jin?” you say through gritted teeth, shooting him death glares that he bats away at the speed of light. “He can cook for her.”

“Yeah, he can cook,” he deadpans, “and then he’ll keep cooking and cooking and feeding her until her stomach explodes.”

“Explode…?” Juria repeats quizzically.

“Boooooom,” Yoongi drawls with his stoic gaze meeting that of his daughter’s own horrified ones. He then bursts into a gummy smile, “but daddy won’t ever do that to you. Daddy will feed you just right, take care of you when you are sick, and buy you pretty clothes for our wedding. Doesn’t that sound nice, Juria?”

The baby nods happily, a carbon copy of the father whomst takes pride in his evildoing. How nice it must be to have the short term memory of a child. 

“Alright, I think it’s time for bed, Juria,” you unfold your legs and hold out a hand for Juria’s, which she sleepily takes after a drawn out yawn. 

Walking down the halls of your apartment, hand-hand, you shoot a death glare at the man who smirks at you with a shrug. After what seemed to be an eternity, because your child has unfortunately planned out the entire 7 days long wedding and felt the need to make the two of you very aware of her lavish plans, you drag a gummy-smiling Yoongi into the living room. 

“What was that all about?” 

“What was ‘what’ all about?” 

“You know what I mean,” you hiss, careful not to wake the child and her lengthy itinerary, “why are you ruining her image of the boys?”

“Technically, I’m not ruining their image because they’re partially true,” he quips.

“C’mon, you know my heart hurts too. I know she’s your baby girl, but she’s growing up. At some point, you’re gonna have to tell her she can’t marry her own dad.”

“I know, I know,” he nods, eyes lidded and lips pursed. 

You groan, “that look tells me you don’t know.” 

“It doesn’t have to be now,” Yoongi retorts with a sigh, “but why does it have to be Jungkook of all people?”

“What do you mean ‘of all people?’” you frown at your husband’s expression, completely absent and preoccupied by whatever he must be conjuring up in that mind of his. “Yoongi, you should be glad it’s someone as great as Jungkook.”

Yoongi mumbles to himself, “what does Jungkook have that I don’t…?”

“Well, for one, he listens.” 

“This won’t do… this won’t do,” he incessantly mutters, brushing past you as he shuffles into your shared bedroom. 

“Even after Juria grows up, you’ll still have me to call you daddy!” you burst out into laughter when he ignores your advances. “Yoongi! You said you would be fine!”

“I will be! I mean, I am. I don’t care if she doesn’t want to marry me...” he waves you off with his back on you before returning to his mumbling. “This won’t do…”

-

“This is absolutely ridiculous and I hope you know it even through that thick head of yours.”

“You have a thick head and so does Juria. I guess I just love thick heads,” Yoongi’s whispers are muffled by the oversized black cape draping over his miniscule frame. 

With his camouflage denim jacket and, black beanie, golden aviators, and silver chain of an earring dangling from his left ear, you ogle him up and down. “Wow, I don’t think you’ve ever dressed up so much like this since our last date.” 

“Yeah?” he quirks a brow, clearly checking himself out in the bathroom floor-length mirror. “You think Juria will fall for it?”

“I don’t know about falling for it,” you chuckle. “I really don’t get why you’re doing this. The boys are laughing their ass off over this, too, you know?”

“They can laugh all they want. I have to protect my daughter from men like them,” Yoongi mutters, fixing his slightly askew beanie. A boisterous eruption of laughter echoes from the living room and you join along when you notice Yoongi registering the giggles belonging to his daughter. He hastily begins pushing you out of the door, “c’mon, Y/N, do exactly as I told you!”

“You’re overreacting, geez, okay, okay...” your cackles come to an abrupt halt when you emerge from the bathroom and into the living room, all seven pairs of eyes landing on you. The boys immediately begin snickering when the light hits you and the animated wingwoman buried somewhere deep within you sees the day of light, ultimately, signalling showtime. “Juria! Are you having fun with your uncles?”

The child throws her hands in the air and exclaims, “yes! More better than fun!”

“Well…” you take a deep breath and persevere, “did you know there’s one more uncle you haven’t met yet?”

“Yeah!” Hoseok cheers. 

“He’s very handsome,” Namjoon emphasizes.

“Not as handsome as me, though,” Jin interjects with a raised finger.

“He’s as sweet as bees!”

Everyone pauses to throw a confused glance at Taehyung’s direction.

“What does that even mean?” Jimin manages to ask in between his giggles.

“You know, sweet because bees make… honey…” he insists as if it’s a matter of fact, “and honey is sweet…”

“Ah, now I see,” everyone nods in agreement as you kneel to meet Juria’s sparkling gaze at the news. “Do you want to see this uncle?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she jumps up and down.

“Alright!” you clap your hands and stand upright once again. “Drum roll please…!”

The boys begin cracking up but start stomping the floor and thudding the table with vibrations filling every being in this apartment nonetheless. You can’t help but grin at the rowdiness the boys never cease to bring along to the apartment. Today is not an exception, for it’s an especially lively moment you’re sure to cherish for many years to come. 

“Please welcome… Uncle Min!” 

Chest-thumping hollers and whistles ensue the second a pair of Timberlands steps into the light and the mysterious black cape graces along the floor following the silhouette of the heart-throbbing uncle. Everyone except Juria double over in laughter, hands slamming the tabletop and lungs desperately heaving for air. If it weren’t for the shades on Yoongi, you’re dead sure he would’ve been attacking you all with the piercing glare of his. The Yoongi who stands before you at this moment, however, could not risk exposing his glorious persona. 

“H—” Yoongi cuts himself off to raise his pitch “—hi, Juria. You’re even prettier than your dad told me!”

The boys snort at his remark, but Yoongi proceeds to nod his head at you in accordance to the plan. 

“So… what do you think, Juria?” you squat next to your daughter. Narrowed gaze darting to Yoongi’s, you clear your throat and read exactly as the script had entailed. “If you were to marry one person in this room, who would you choose?”

Juria stands there, completely confused by the presence of her dad whom had supposedly switched his name to Uncle Min. She senses are much more acute to her father than the rest of you were. She’s cuddled in his lap enough times before to recognize his scent and she’s watched him stroll past the hallway in that lazy yet cool demeanor of the father she so admires. What exactly does this whole situation mean? She’s much smarter than you all had mistaken her to be, but she’s clearly still too young to understand the purpose of this Saturday night. 

Without hesitation, Juria turns toward Jungkook with a giddy smile plastered across her face and you could feel the panic that spikes from everyone who flinches in fear of the wrath that is Min Yoongi. Eyes flitting to Yoongi, your heart aches at the crestfallen look on the father’s face. 

“Me?” Jungkook’s widened stares seek help from you and the boys. 

If there’s anything the past four years have taught you, it’s how to be a mother who could always think on her feet and bring tranquility to a family of a chaotic child and a kidlike husband. Reaching out a gentle hand to your daughter, you leaned in to whisper into her ear, “Juria, go give daddy a hug.” 

Whether she had forgotten Jungkook and the entire question or whether she had actually understood the reasoning behind your beckoning, you’re still surprised by the bobs of her head as she whirls around and starts running over to her father. She bolts with such eagerness that she nearly falls, but not before her father, who reaches out to her with arms wide open and a gummy smile to welcome her with, tosses her into the air and into his embrace with ease. 

The father rocks his daughter in his arms and it would be impossible for you not to join the boys in their coos of “aw’s.” You can tell how content the father is at the facade of his falsely successful mission judging from the plentiful kisses he plants on her cheeks and how he shares his gaze with no one else but her. You can’t help but smile, that is, until…

“I choose you, daddy!” 

The boys’ laughters transition into ones of nerves when Yoongi lowers his shades and peers at you with the epiphany that had just dawned upon him. He had figured you out and how he would soon claim to be a perfect yet ruined mission. You gulp at the dark, menacing orbs of his that you’re sure you would be drowning into as you scream those oh-so-familiar words in a manner that no one but he could ever hear; but for now, the father gleefully returns to the giggles of his daughter… 

...because no one could flutter his heart akin to the way that daddy’s little girl does. 

[katlyn1948]

Happy Sunday/Monday/Whatever day it is for you

I’ve been going back and forth on whether I or not I want to proceed with the current chapter of “Tale of Six Weddings” that I am working on or scrap the whole chapter and start anew. I can share what I have to begin with and get thoughts...only because I’m not sure of how it is going. I think it’s alright, but definitely needs some major re-work. Now would be a great time for someone to beta the shit out it... 

Without further ado, here it is...what I have been working on...

Gendry new Arya came from money, it was no surprise since her last name was Stark, but when he rounded the corner to drive down a never-ending driveway, he hadn’t expected the quaint house at the end of it. Its was small, by any means, but it wasn’t some grand mansion he had in mind either.

               It was the perfect size to house a family as large as the Starks, and still have room to accommodate any guests that decided to make a visit. And it was surprisingly homey.

               There were dog toys scattered across the lawn and a bike on its side perched by the stairs leading up to the porch. Several cars were already in the driveway and Gendry has to park his monster of a truck on the side of the house where Arya directed him to.

               It was a house that was definitely lived in; not just for the sole purpose of being on display. He could tell, but just the outside, that the Starks were a family unit that would be impossible to break up, no matter the situation.

               When his truck was finally parked and he turned off the engine, he noticed the hesitance in Arya’s eyes as she stared at the house before them. She had mentioned it had been near eight years since she was last home, and he could only imagine was memories were conjuring in her mind.

               Mindlessly, he grabbed her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.  

               It was a small gesture, but one that set his body aflame as his skin touched hers. He hadn’t meant for his hand to linger as on long as it did, but she made no move to pull it away, not until she gave a sharp nod and exited the vehicle.

               When he followed, he hadn’t expected the slight chill in the air. It was much cooler up here in the northern part of the region than it had been in King’s Landing. It was very different from the sticky heat, and a rather welcome reprieve to harsh summer slamming down in his hometown.

               No wonder Arya told him to pack warmer clothes. Albeit, he had to go out and buy some warmer clothes, considering his wardrobe consisted of t-shirts and shorts, with the occasional jeans, of course.

               “Are you cold?” Arya chimed as he pulled his sweater tighter around his body.

               Gendry shook his head, “No, why do you ask?”

               She smiled, a small laugh escaping her lips, “Because you’re shivering.”

               “Am I? Hadn’t noticed.” And he hadn’t. He was too preoccupied marveling that the house before him. He had never grown up in anything like what Arya’s childhood home was. Not even after Robert had found him. It was just him and his mother, up until her death, and then he moved into Davos’ place with his wife and their three sons. He was lucky to get the bathroom in time before the others did, let alone live in something as grand as her home.

               “Well,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “Let’s get this over with.”

               They made their way to the steps of her home with their bags in hand.

               Gendry could tell Arya was nervous, just by how reserved she was to enter. They stood outside in the crisp air for longer than Gendry would have liked, as Arya gathered the courage to enter. When she finally managed to step inside, they were greeted with nothing buy chaos.

               There were two young children screaming on the floor, a teenage boy and his girlfriend bickering on the couch in the living room. There were dogs running about, chasing after one another and the sounds of clattering in the kitchen wafting through the air.

               Who Gendry assumed to be Arya’s mother, had passed by their standing forms at least four times, with a phone pressed to her ear as she chided with someone on the other end.

               “I told you peonies, not daisies! My daughter’s wedding is tomorrow and you sent the wrong flowers! I need this corrected yesterday! We do not hav-” she stopped in her tracks, noticing them standing in the foyer. “I’ll have to call you back.”

She clicked off the phone in her hand and nearly ran to Arya, throwing herself into her arms and bringing Arya into a suffocating hug.

Gendry noticed the tension in Arya’s shoulders relax as she snaked her arms around her mother’s torso, squeezing her tightly.

“Oh my darling, girl! Why didn’t you tell you were coming today?”

Arya pulled from the hug and gave her mother a weak smile, “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised.” She turned to Gendry, giving him an interesting look. Like one of curiosity, but also scrutiny. He could see the gears working in her head, as if she couldn’t quite place him, but definitely recognized him. “And who is this?”

“Oh, mother…this is Gendry. He’s my…boyfriend.” Arya said a bit sheepishly. They had never actually called one another as ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend.’ It has always been ‘we’re together.’ The term has sent a chill down his spine, and he conceded that he quite liked the way it sounded coming from Arya’s lips.

“Ah, yes. I do remember Sansa mentioning that you would bring someone.” She extended her hand for Gendry to shake, and he gladly took it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Gendry, I’m Catelyn.”

“The pleasure is all mine, truly.” He smiled, putting his best foot forward. He wanted to impress Arya’s mother, even if their relationship was fake. They were, after all, trying to fool them.

“You won’t be saying that in a few days.” Arya scoffed as she took in the exchange.

Her mother gave her a disapproving look, before glancing back at Gendry.

He could tell there was judgement in her eyes, as if she didn’t truly trust him. And why would she? She has just met him.

“Yes, well…I must get back on the phone with the florist. They sent the wrong flowers; can you believe that? I specifically said peonies and they sent daisies! Your sister is allergic to daisies; I cannot have her turning into a balloon on her wedding day. If you’ll excuse me.” She straightened herself up and stalked off towards the kitchen with her cell phone glued to the face.

Arya let out a forced laugh, “Well that could have gone worse.”

Gendry shrugged, “I think it went fine. I’m sure your mother will be a bit cold towards me, but she doesn’t know me. I get it.”

“No you don’t.” she sighed. “Come on, my youngest brother is in the living room, so are my niece and nephew.”

Gendry followed her to the living room past the foyer. It wasn’t by any means a formal living room, but one that was used constantly by revolving family members. Gendry noticed the teenage boy cuddled on the couch with a girl about the same age. Their earlier bickering has ceased, and they were now watching some stupid cartoon on the tv in front of them.

The boy had the same shade of auburn hair as Arya’s mother, with the same light blue eyes. There was no doubt he belonged to Catelyn, where Arya was the complete opposite. The girl in his lap had a light shade of brown hair, almost matching that of Arya’s and her brown eyes glistened in the light of the tv.

“Don’t let mom see you on the couch like that.” Arya said as she threw herself in between the young couple. The teenage boy groaned and shoved her out of the way, clearly annoyed by his sister’s antics. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was his sister, someone he hadn’t seen in ages, that had wedged herself in between them.

“Arya? What the hell are you doing here?” He exclaimed as he pulled her into a bear hug.

“What, like I would miss Sansa’s wedding? I’m sorry, but do you think I have a death wish?” She turned her attention to the girl, a sneaky smile creeping on her face. “Ly, does your mother know you’re here?”

“Oh, shove off, Arya! Of course my mother knows! You think she would let me see Rickon if your mother wasn’t supervising? Not to mention, Tal and Sansa are somewhere around here.” She scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. “By the gods, we can’t get even a little privacy. You know Robb tasked us with watching the twins.”

“Well do you blame them. I heard what happened. As if mother would ever trust you two alone again.” Arya’s gaze shifted to Gendry. He was awkwardly standing from the couch, unsure of where to move. “Gendry don’t be shy. This is my brother Rickon and his girlfriend, Lyanna.”

Gendry shuffled his way to where they were sitting on the couch and gave a small smile, “Hi.”

“Wow, a man of many words. You sure know how to pick ‘em sis.” Rickon scoffed.

Arya punched his shoulder as she rose from the couch, a scowl etched on her face, “Don’t listen to him Gendry, he’s just sour.”

She grabbed his hand again and weaved them through her childhood home. It was bit like a maze, and he was sure he would need a map to figure out where the kitchen was again.

“What was that about?” He asked as she continued to show him her home.

“He’s mad that our mother won’t let him go anywhere unsupervised with Lyanna. They were caught having sex when my mother was literally down the hall. I remember that call from Sansa and I could hear my mother yelling in the background.”

“And that’s why they were watching the twins.”

Arya nodded, “Robb’s doing. A good way to make sure they keep out of trouble.”

“Who? The twins or the melodramatic teens?”

Arya let out a laugh and Gendry couldn’t help but smile at her outburst. It was stark difference to her earlier demeanor, and he was glad she was feeling more comfortable around her own childhood home.

As she pulled him to, what he assumed to be a den, he noticed four adults huddled around a table, laughing and enjoying a bottle of ridiculously expensive wine.

“Arya….Arya!” a woman with the same hair and eyes and Rickon and her mother screamed, as she jumped from her chair, throwing her arms around Arya. “I knew it! I knew you would come today! And this must be the person you were telling me about. My name is Sansa, the bride. I’ve heard very little of you, except that you are my sister’s boyfriend. Gosh, it is so nice to meet you an-”

“Gods, Sans, how much wine have you had?” Arya grimaced as she took in her sister’s breath.

“Like two glasses.” She shrugged.

Theon scoffed from behind her, “Try like five. We’ve been getting intoxicated while the youngsters watch the smaller youngsters.”

Arya scoffed, “Classic Theon. Tell me again why my sister agreed to marry you.”

“My charm. My wits. My devilish good looks,” he turned his gaze to Gendry, eying suspiciously. “Speaking of devilish looks, who let this brooding man in?”

“I’m Gendry. Arya’s boyfriend.” This time he was the one to introduce himself. He wanted to gage Arya’s reaction of the word, and as he suspected, her cheeks flushed, and her body went tense. He gave a cheeky smile, knowing her could rile up a reaction like that.

“Well it’s nice to meet the mysterious man my future sister-in-law had kept so well hidden.” He gave a pat on Gendry’s back before turning his attention to Sansa, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Come on, love, let’s get you to bed before your mother has another cow.”

He guided out of the den, leaving Robb and Talisa still perched at the small table.

Robb had a steady glass of beer in his hand, while Talisa sipped on her own wine respectively.

“Was that about the flowers?” Arya asked as she took her seat across from her older brother. Gendry followed, taking his own seat.

It was interesting to see Arya interact with her family. It was side of her he had yet to see, and he delighted in watching it. It made him wish he had grown up with that type of family dynamic. Sure, Davos and Mayra did all they could to make sure he was felt included, even their sons were like his brothers, but it was different. He had joined their family when he was fifteen; he hadn’t grown up with them, not really.

To see the ease she had around them, her family, he envied it.

“Unfortunately, it’s not just the flowers.” Talisa chimed. “The caterer cancelled last minute, and the venue flooded.”

“Then is there a bloody wedding to even go to?” Arya asked.

Robb nodded, “The wedding is going to be here, with about half the guest list. And…mother may ask you a favor.”

“And what is that?”

“Her wedding party was also cut by half. It’s only Talisa and Jeyne…and you.”

“Me! But I-no! I told Sansa I didn’t want to be in her wedding! I-”

“Ar, it’s our sister, come on.”

Arya slumped in her chair and Gendry instinctively put a hand on her shoulder.

“Well fuck.”

[tsuki-chibi]

Passionfruit (November) Day 2: Branch

Read the whole story on AO3: Passionfruit

————

When Adrien got up that morning, he actually wasn’t looking forward to Chloé’s party at all. Though it would be nice to have some time outside the house, and out from under Nathalie’s watchful eye, he didn’t relish the thought of spending several hours being dragged around by Chloé. It had been with a heavy heart that he got dressed in a suit and left.

Now, as he started at the petite girl in front of him, he was stuck somewhere between shock and disbelief - but he could feel bubbles of elation starting to rise up in his chest as the truth sank in. He’d noticed the black-haired, blue-eyed slip of a girl in the uniform before, but Chloé had carefully steered him in another direction.

Oh my god I’m so sorry I ruined your tie

Part of Adrien had frozen as soon as she said those words - his words - out loud. Yet he’d responded automatically, and apparently said her words. The unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, feeling at the back of his mind was proof of that. He poked at it tentatively and the girl squeaked.

“U-um,” the girl - Marinette, if Chloé could be believed - stuttered. She looked like she was going to faint.

“Let’s go out on the balcony,” Adrien said. It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed what had happened besides Chloé. He wanted to keep it that way.

“What about me?” Chloé said, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout. Adrien knew her well enough to know that pout wasn’t entirely manufactured. In spite of the fact that he and Chloé were clearly not soulmates, he thought that Chloé had always harbored a hope that a miracle might happen.

“Maybe find someone to clean up the mess?” Adrien suggested. “That would be really helpful.”

Chloé’s pout deepened but she gave a reluctant nod. Marinette seemed frozen, so Adrien dropped a hand onto her shoulder and gently steered her through the crowd and out onto one of the smaller balconies. He closed the door behind them to give them some privacy, hoping his bodyguard wouldn’t come looking.

Then he turned to Marinette and said, “Marinette - that’s your name, right?”

She nodded slowly. “And you’re Adrien Agreste.”

He winced, immediately thinking that she was one of his fangirls, but Marinette plowed on without waiting for an answer.

“I admire your father’s work so much. I can’t believe his son is my soulmate!” Marinette exclaimed to herself. “I knew you looked familiar. I’ve seen you modeling his stuff.”

Adrien cocked his head, intrigued. “You’re a fan of my father’s work?”

“I like designing clothes,” Marinette explained. “I - oh shit. Please tell me that tie wasn’t a Gabriel original.” Her face went ashen.

“Uhh...” Adrien said. His instinct was to lie and say that it wasn’t, but this was his soulmate. There couldn’t be any lies between them now. She’d be able to pluck the truth right out of his head, and that was if she couldn’t just straight-up tell as he spoke.

“Oh my god!” Marinette moaned. “This is a disaster. Your father is gonna hate me!” She covered her face with her hands. “Then I’ll never be his intern and I’ll never get a place in the fashion world and I’ll have to settle for selling my clothes online!”

Adrien blinked at her. “I can just say I dropped something on my tie,” he said politely.

Marinette spread her fingers so she could peek up at him. “I don’t wanna get you in trouble.”

“It’s okay. Really, I...” Adrien trailed off. This was unorthodox, but he had to ask. “I would prefer if we didn’t tell anyone we were soulmates.”

Her eyes widened as her hands fell, and a jolt of hurt snapped out across the bond like a branch of lightning to stab Adrien in the heart. He recoiled like he’d been slapped and frantically shook his head, realizing she’d gotten the wrong idea.

“No! It’s not because of you! It’s - I mean -” Flailing, because he lacked the words necessary to adequately explain, he gathered up everything and just sort of... thrust all those emotions and memories at the new warmth in the back of his head.

Marinette flinched a bit, her cheeks flushing as the overload hit her. Adrien instantly regretted throwing all that on her without even asking first, but it was too late now. He stood quietly by, watching as she sorted through the bits and pieces that made up his reasoning.

Number one were the fangirls. Adrien’s career as a model had taken off when he was about seven, but in the last couple of years the scope of his work had changed. His target market was now pre-teens and teenagers, and it was working a little too well if you asked him. He’d been mobbed more than once, and the amount of fan mail he got was crazy. He was genuinely afraid for Marinette’s safety if some of those people found out who she was.

Number two was his father, who was a control freak if there ever was one. Everything about Adrien’s life was strictly controlled, from what he ate to what he wore to how he acted. All in the name of protecting the Gabriel brand. Adrien did not want his soulmate having to put up with that, and that’s exactly what Gabriel would demand.

Number three was also Gabriel, but in a different way. Ever since Adrien’s mother passed away, Gabriel’s attitude towards soulmates had drastically soured. He didn’t want anything to do with the concept, and worse he openly criticized everything about it. It wouldn’t be out of character for Gabriel to decide he didn’t want Adrien to have anything to do with Marinette and ban them from seeing each other.

He might even force Adrien to go to one of those places that could build artificial shields to keep contact between soulmates from happening. They were supposed to be for children who were too young when they found their soulmates, or for people who, for whatever reason, didn’t want that mental connection. But Gabriel wouldn’t care about that. He’d pay whatever money it took to keep Adrien’s mind locked up until Adrien was of age.

His body was already a prisoner. Adrien couldn’t bear the thought of his mind being held prisoner too. Like many people, he’d always dreamed of finding his soulmate. The thought of finding the one person out there who had been made just for him, and who he had been made for, had carried him through many long, lonely nights.

“Oh,” Marinette said softly when she was through. “Your father sucks.”

Adrien chuckled. “That’s an understatement. It’s not about you, really. It’s...”

“I get it. It’s okay,” Marinette said. “I don’t want that to happen either.” She smiled slightly. “I’m okay with keeping it a secret. My parents will freak out and be really overbearing. I bet they’ll try to go talk to your dad.”

He winced at the thought, but said, “Are you sure? I don’t wanna push you into anything you don’t want.”

“I’m sure. It can be like our little secret. We can exchange phone numbers and talk or video call,” Marinette said, clearly warming to the idea. “And talk mentally too.” She grinned.

“I would love that,” Adrien said, relieved to his core. He’d been a little afraid that Marinette would want to put shields of her own up, or expect him to do that. His parents always had shields between them.

“But... oh. Chloé knows,” Marinette said reluctantly.

“Is that a problem?” Adrien asked.

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows in concentration. He wasn’t sure what she was doing until suddenly a bunch of thoughts and feelings that didn’t belong to him flowed into his head. It was a weird feeling, though not necessarily a bad one.

He frowned to himself as he felt Marinette’s emotions towards Chloé. Contempt, frustration, even a bit of fear. And through Marinette’s eyes, he watched a couple of memories wherein Chloé truly acted like a spoiled brat. In one, she loudly taunted Marinette’s art project until Marinette ran away crying. In another, she picked a fight that ended up with Marinette in trouble and Chloé getting away scot-free after threatening to whine to her daddy.

“We’re not exactly best friends,” Marinette said quietly. “Chloé picks on me a lot.” She crossed her over her chest and looked away.

Adrien tried not to scowl. “Chloé was the only person my parents would let me spend time with when I was a little. Without her, I wouldn’t have had any friends. I know that she isn’t always nice to people, but I never thought... I’m sorry, Marinette.”

“It’s not your fault,” Marinette said.

“No, but I still feel awful. Unfortunately, Chloé’s known what my words were since we were kids. We compared words when we were six to see if we’d match.” They hadn’t, obviously. In retrospect, Adrien was suddenly very grateful for that.

“Oh.” Marinette was quiet for a moment, staring out over the balcony.

Their bond wasn’t developed enough for Adrien to know what she was thinking unless she directly pushed the thought at him. But he could feel that she was unsettled. Worried. Nervous. All things that he himself was feeling, so that it was magnified.

“I’ll talk to her,” he said firmly. “I’m Chloé’s friend. She knows what my dad is like. She’ll understand why we want to keep it secret.” And he would also be talking to her about the other thing. He wasn’t going stand by while someone bullied his soulmate!

“Okay,” Marinette said, not fully believing him but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Should we exchange numbers, then?”

Adrien nodded eagerly and took out his phone. She took out hers and they swapped. He entered his information and snapped a selfie of himself; Marinette did the same before giving his phone back. She gave him a shy smile, twirling one of her pigtails.

“I should probably get back to work before my parents wonder where I am,” she said.

“Okay,” Adrien said. “So... talk later?”

Marinette giggled and thought, directly at him, ‘Of course’.

Adrien blushed and smiled sheepishly. ‘Until then,’ he thought back, and it wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. The thought just slipped easily between them.

She crinkled her fingers in a little wave and disappeared through the door. Adrien sighed and leaned against the railing, looking down at her contact information. She had saved herself as Mari, no last name. He touched the screen over her name, then traced her picture

Marinette. God he was lucky.

[elisaphoenix13]

(Your) Light In The Dark (Ch. 1)

Well, by a few requests, here is the start of Against All Odds in Quill's POV. There was a vote between this and a different high school story but after all the good ideas thrown at me, nothing clicked. So I decided to start with this for now.

It was almost disgusting. He almost didn't want to look around his classroom while his teacher spoke, just so he wouldn't have to see another girl bat her eyelashes at him again. Not that he didn't appreciate them...but that was usually from a distance. There was a reason he tried to keep his distance from the more popular girls. Ninety percent of the time they had one goal, and that was to get into his pants. He was pretty sure it was supposed to be the other way around, but it felt relentless. It was bad enough Rachel had her eyes on him. She was already spreading rumors that she and him were an item and it sent shivers up his spine.

Was it too much to ask that someone wanted him for him? To not care about bragging rights (something his friends said was actually a thing)? The part of the school that cared about high school drama (and didn't listen to Rachel) wondered why Quill wasn't in a relationship, and the answer was simple.

He wanted more than a simple fuck. He wanted to get to know someone. Then again, this was high school so that probably really was too much to ask. It was rare for high school couples to keep going with a relationship after graduation anyway. A guy could hope though.

Quill sighs with a mixture of relief and trepidation when the lunch bell rings, and takes his time throwing his books into his backpack. He brought lunch from home so he wasn't in any rush to get to the cafeteria, and while he liked taco day, he liked his grandfather's leftover beef stew way better. It was so good he'd eat it cold...but he wasn't going to. He would be able to heat it up if he asked the lunch lady nicely.

"Hey Quill! Are you stuck or something? Come on!" One of his friends calls when he sticks his head into the classroom.

"Hilarious." The senior retorts sarcastically as he looks around the now empty classroom. He had taken longer than he thought.

He gets up from his desk and slings his bag over his shoulder, following his friend to their lockers where Quill switched out books and got his lunch. They join up with more of their football friends outside of the cafeteria, and after they walk in and over to their usual table, Quill throws his backpack onto his spot. It hardly took a minute to coax the lunch lady to heat up his lunch with some added charm, and a few minutes later, he was back at his seat and eating his stew.

"Hey! I heard Coach was going to cut practice short today." Eric says to him as Quill shoves another spoonful of food into his mouth. "Something about his kid's play."

"Thank god." He replies after swallowing. "I could use a breather."

"Pfft... he'll probably work us twice as hard to make up for it." One of the other guys says as Quill stops eating to look around.

He had been feeling eyes on him since he sat down but when he finally looked around, the feeling went away and nobody seemed to be paying him any mind. Not even Rachel. One more glance around the room just gave him a glimpse of a student hitting another boy upside the head with a paperback but it was otherwise normal. No one was staring at him, so he shrugged it off and turned his attention back to lunch and divided a small amount of that attention to the conversation his friends were having. About football practice. Nothing new there. It was almost white noise at this point because it was the same thing every day. Go to school, die a little inside from boredom for eight hours, then spend two more hours getting his ass sacked in practice because his defense wasn't doing their job. Shower the muscle aches away, go home and do his homework, eat dinner, go to bed. Rinse and repeat.

Maybe add a couple hours of watching TV or listening to music in there somewhere. It depended on how he was feeling and if he had the time or energy. It was all a boring routine. He wanted something new in his life. To mix it up. It was another reason why he wanted an actual relationship.

His routine played out for the rest of the day as expected. The only difference being that the football coach was indeed going to cut practice short, and that his friend was right that they were going to be working twice as hard to make up for it. By the time practice was finally over, Quill was pretty sure he had more bruises than ever. He had never looked forward to a shower as much as he did today, and made sure he beat his teammates to one of the showers where he made quick work of washing up so he could enjoy the hot spray of the water massaging his sore muscles.

"Damn Quill, put that away." One of the guys jest and the captain rolls his eyes as he turns off the shower.

"No one asked you to look." He wraps a towel around his waist before making his way over to the locker his clothes were in.

"Kind of hard not to when it's there." Eric adds.

"You're just jealous."

"...yeah. Kind of. You've got girls dying to get in your pants!"

Quill snorts. "Guess it sucks they have to settle for you. Do they ask you if it's in yet?"

Eric scowls. "You're a dick Quill."

"You all made that clear three seconds ago." Quill says with a grin over the team's howling laughter.

They all knew it was in good fun. No one actually took any offense to jokes like that because they all took some kind of shot at each other, and even Quill had a few of his friends take a few stabs at him.

"Anyway, we're thinking of going to get pizza. Want to join?" Eric asks as they get dressed.

"Sure. I was just going to head home, but I wouldn't mind a slice."

"You mean a whole damn pizza?"

"I pay for my own food. Shut up."

Quill closes his locker before throwing on his sweater and he curses when he remembers that he left his wallet in his regular locker. He shouts to his friends that he'll meet them at the restaurant as he throws his backpack over his shoulder and runs out of the locker room. There was no one besides the team and maybe some stragglers in the library on campus, so Quill didn't bother slowing down on his way to his locker. He came to regret it thirty seconds later though when he rounded a corner and barreled into a student that was innocently putting his books away. The poor guy was smaller than the senior though so while Quill only stumbled in surprise, the other boy was sent straight to the ground and his books tumbled to the floor.

"Holy shit! I'm sorry!" He exclaims as he crouches down to help gather the strewn books. "I wasn't paying attention. My bad."

Quill looked over at his unfortunate victim to hand his belongings over and his heart skipped a beat. He found himself looking into the most beautifully colored eyes he had ever seen.

His eyes are gold.

The younger teen looked as if he were caught doing something naughty.

"The one time I don't pay attention to where I'm going." He jokes as he helps the teen to his feet and brushes him off. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

It was a plausible concern. The other boy was much smaller than Quill, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wanted to roll him up in bubble wrap and protect him from the harsh, unforgiving world. He wore a sweater that had definitely seen some usage, tight jeans that very pleasantly hugged every bit of his legs that Quill made sure to take a look at the back when he could, and then had the tiniest cowlick in his hair that he almost reached out to try and fix. He resisted though since he was pretty sure that wouldn't be well received.

Not a single word passed the younger's lips. He only continued to stare and Quill began to wonder if the guy could speak at all. Maybe he was mute? Quill's concern grows as the other turns back toward his locker to fumble his books back into it, but just when he turns back and finally opens his mouth to possibly say something, Quill was distracted by golden eyes again. His brain to mouth filter failed spectacularly on him in the next moment.

"Damn. You have some really pretty eyes for a guy." He blurts.

The blush that grew rapidly on the younger's face was just the icing on the cake. Quill did manage to take a look at what tight jeans were accenting when the other teen had turned to put away his books, and the senior was given an eyeful of hot damn. The smaller teen opened and closed his mouth like a fish, and just as Quill was about to ask him if he was okay again, the younger shut his mouth so hard he could hear his teeth clack together, made the most adorable squeak...and then hauled ass. By the time the senior processed what had happened, the other boy was already halfway around the corner (and his attempt to call out to him was all for naught), and Quill was intrigued. Most students either flirted with him or looked at him with obvious disdain (usually the students that despised the popular kids even though Quill was nice to everyone.), but that student? He did neither.

It was refreshing.

Who was that guy and why had Quill never noticed him before? He liked to think that he knew all of the students (at least almost all of them), especially someone as cute as that guy was, but he didn't recognize him. Maybe he was new? A transfer student? No. Even transfer students got some attention even if it was just for a couple of days, and Quill hadn't heard anything about one.

The only explanation at the time was that he was a guy that just wanted to get through high school with as little drama as possible, and Quill couldn't say he could blame him. High school sucked sometimes. Cliques didn't help.

He would have to figure it out later. Right now he needed to get his wallet and meet up with his friends at the pizza parlor so he could eat and hang out before he was expected home. He had all weekend to ponder about the mystery teen and how the everloving fuck he's never seen him before. Quill sighs and finishes his trek to his locker to grab his wallet, and then jogs a little slower (so not to accidentally bulldoze anyone else down) out of the building and to the parking lot to his car. He tosses his bag into the passenger seat as he gets in and then drives away after buckling in and starting the car.

It was on the short drive to the pizza parlor that Quill wondered a little more about the walking visible tease...and what he was going to do about getting rid of the sadness that was lurking behind honey-gold eyes. Sadness and loneliness that even Quill couldn't have missed. It wasn't the normal kind of thing he saw around school either. It was a cry for attention from someone that didn't seem to want it in the first place.

Damn.

This guy was already a walking conundrum and Quill didn't even know his name.

[mitchsmarners]

SEMI CHARMED LIFE | CHAPTER FOURTEEN| 3.7K | TEEN

“You guys have kept in contact this whole time?” Bill asked, brow disappearing underneath hair line as he looked like his old friends in amazement. “And you guys are.. what? Room mates?”

Eddie avoided looking at Richie as he answered. “Yeah, uh… room mates. Something like that.”

[or: the adult!losers reunion, done 2000s sit-com style, just like we all deserve.]

PREVIOUSLY ON SEMI CHARMED LIFE: CUTEST COUPLE. Richie traced his hands over the words, smiling softly as he took in the appearance of himself and Beverly Marsh at fifteen. Hair that hadn’t been tamed on either part, paisley patterns and braces on Richie’s teeth. Himself looking like the best thing that could ever happen to him was standing there with Beverly Marsh in his arms, having their picture taken for their high school yearbook. | “I think… I think you, Richie Tozier, are the only good guy I’ve ever dated.” Richie looked down at her with a bemused smile. “Beverly, aren’t you married?” |  Richie, it’s been ten years, man. I’ll regret what I did to you every day for the rest of my life but I’d really like to move past this. You were my best friend for fifteen years before that, and I... I’ve always missed you.” “You know….” Richie shook his head and frowned. “I thought I was past this, I thought I was easily eight years past what you did. But now I’m here, looking at you and having to listen to you go on about what a great experience you had at school and how in love you are and I…. I want to be happy for you, Stanley, but I can’t. Because you stepped on me to get it.” | “Wow…” Eddie chuckled slowly.  “You’ve got some      serious    issues, Beverly Marsh. Get the fuck out of here.”

Author’s note/Warnings: A vague mention of a suicide attempt mentioned in this chapter!

permatags: @thundercatseddie​, @eddiekabsprak​, @appojoos​, @s-s-georgie​, @kaspwitch​, @jwilliambyers​, @tozierking​, @eddiefuckinkaspbrak​, @sloppybitchardtozier​, @chaotickaspbrak​, @vipertooth​, @edstozler​, @anellope​, @tozierpunks​, @thorn-harvester-ven​, @wheezyeds​, @emgays​, @thegoths​, @wilding-throught-thehallways​, @reddie-to-cryy​​,

Beverly hugged Richie’s sweater tighter around herself and settled on the subway bench. She’d lied to Ben, after everything at the Kaspbraks’. Promised she had a place to stay, somewhere to go that wasn’t work. And Ben, bless him… Ben had believed her. People needed to stop taking her at face value, because she somehow now managed to lie without flinching. She didn’t know when she became this person, but she knew that a younger version of herself would be disgusted by it. Maybe this version of her was disgusted, too. 

Beverly leaned onto her side and curled up, jacket still tightly around her. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she must have because next time Beverly opened her eyes, a teenage Richie Tozier was sitting on the bench beside her head. 

“SHIT!” Beverly cried, scrambling to sit up. Richie smiled at her, braced-faced and acne covered. Curls completely fly away and nose covered in freckles. Fifteen years old, maybe sixteen. But he sure as hell didn’t match Beverly’s twenty eight years. “Fuck, I’m loosing it.” 

“We can agree on that,” Richie said, grinning childishly at her. “What the hell are you doing, Beverly? Come on.” 

Beverly let out a shaky breath. “Okay, is there like… acid in the air? Or something.”

“I think you have to physically take acid,” Richie said, crinkling up his nose. “But I don’t really know. But I can promise you that you’re not on any drugs or anything weirder than it seems.”

“So I’m just crazy.”

“No crazier than you’ve always been.” Richie said, bouncing up to his feet and holding a hand out to her. “I’m here to help you, Bev. Help you get your shit together before you ruin everything for good.”

“I’ve already ruined everything for good.” Beverly said, refusing to accept the hand that Richie was holding out to her. “Eddie hates me, you hate me… I cheated on husband, and I ruined things with Ben, and I… I’m living on a subway bench! I’ve hit rock fucking bottom. 

“We all hit rock bottom at some point.” Richie said, words too wise for his young-again face. “That doesn’t mean your life is over, or that you can never crawl back up. It just means you need to look back and figure out where shit went batty.”

Beverly exhaled hard, and grabbed Richie’s hand. There was a pull in her gut, like she’d started the drop off a huge rollercoaster. She squeezed her eyes shut to swallow back the rush of  nausea and when she opened them, she was standing in much too familiar living room. One she hadn’t seen in over a decade, but she suddenly recognized without a doubt. She sighed, the sight of herself and even younger Richie sitting on the white couch not far from where she was now standing. 

“Oh my God,” Beverly groaned, rolling her eyes. “You guys really just let me walk around dressed like that?”

The Richie by her side chuckled and knocked at Beverly with his elbow. “You looked beautiful. You always looked beautiful, but something about this night… You know.”

“Yeah.” Beverly whispered. She turned to Richie and swallowed roughly. “Why did you bring me here, Richie? I know what happens.”

“No, you don’t.” Richie said with a shrug. “And that’s your problem. You think you know, but you don’t. All you know is what you remember happening to you. But there’s always something else going on around you, but you don’t see.”

Beverly looked back at the couch, taking in the sight of her teenage self and Richie sitting pressed together on Greta Keene’s fancy couch. Teenage Beverly ran her fingers through Richie’s curls, leaning close enough that she was half on his lap. It was the moment of something, Beverly remembered this night. Before this, before Richie in those ugly yellow shorts and too much alcohol in both their systems, Beverly had never considered Richie as anything more than her annoying Trashmouth friend. After this night, he was her boyfriend… for a long time. Her first heartbreak. 

“So, what am I missing here?” Beverly asked, watching Richie lean in closer to herself and knock their noses together. 

“Eddie.” Richie said simply, looking over his shoulder. Beverly followed his gaze, seeing a tiny, 14 year old Eddie Kaspbrak leaning against the wall of the living room. He was making a show of talking to Bill, but Eddie could see where Eddie’s eye line was. Where it followed to. A weird sense of guilt fell into her stomach.

“That whole time?” Beverly asked Richie, unable to take her eyes off of Eddie. Eddie, with perfectly styled hair, and polo shirts. Tube socks, and fanny pants. This Eddie barely looked a day older than the day than the day Beverly had befriended. She loved him so fucking much. 

Richie made a clicking sound with his tongue. “You doubt it? After everything, you’d think you’d have accepted that Eddie and I belong together.”

“I don’t…” Beverly sighed. “I just didn’t think it went that far back. I never thought…”

“You had no reason to.” Richie said. “Let yourself off that hook before you put yourself on it. You aren’t a bad person for dating somebody that somebody else- especially if you didn’t know.”

“I can’t decide if I should feel guilty for dating somebody my friend liked or…” Beverly sighed. “Pissed that one of my friends liked my boyfriend.”

Teenage Eddie suddenly thumbled with his drink, the solo cup dropped to the ground. Eddie stammered out some sort of apology to Bill then booked from the house. Beverly whipped around quickly, seeing now that she and Richie were finally kissing. 

“Well.” Richie cleared his throat. “You know what happens next here. Do you want to see what happened outside?”

“No.” Beverly meekly, but they were older outside.

Eddie gripped at a tree in the yard, heaving for a second before vomiting. He collapsed against the trunk, hugging himself to it, breaking into loud and messy sobs. Beverly pressed her hand over her mouth, wanting to look away but finding herself unable to do so. 

“Horrible.” Richie said, devote of any emotion. 

“We’re just gonna… stand here and watch him?” Beverly gasped. “Can we… help him? Richie!”

Richie smiled. “This was almost fifteen years ago, Beverly. You can’t jump in change anything. It’s already been done.”

“Then why are you showing me this?” Beverly cried. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty for dating you? Because Eddie liked you? Well, I don’t! I’m sorry he was hurting, but that’s my fault. I didn’t even know.”

“I didn’t know, either.” Richie said. “That’s not on us, Beverly, it’s not. Nobody blames you, not me, not Eddie. But this stuff you need to know. But you don’t understand.”

“What the fuck is this? A fucking Christmas carol?” Beverly snapped. 

“Yeah.” Richie laughed. “Just call me Ghost of Boyfriend Past.”

“As long as you’re the only one.” Beverly grumbled, turning away from Eddie’s sobbing form. “That’s pretty much all I can handle.”

Richie scoffed, with a sharp shake of his head. “Who else would it be? Ben? Big Bill? Boring.”

“Richie, I’m literally married and-” Beverly was cut off by Richie waving his hands in her face. She glowered at him, arms crossed angrily. 

Richie wrapped his hands around her wrist, with another shake of his head. “We don’t have time for all that.” He said. “There’s too much to do, too much to see.”

Beverly barely had time to react to anything before she found herself no longer standing outside Greta’s house, but sitting in the back bench seat of Richie’s shitty old beat up truck. They were sitting out by the old abandoned railroad tracks. Trains had long stopped coming out there, even since the boy had been killed out in Castle Rock, they’d been slowing the travel through smaller towns. 

This wasn’t just a regular hang out, smoke, maybe fool around like the usual “sitting in Richie’s truck at the railroad” and Beverly knew it immediately. Could feel the tension in the air. Could see how Richie was pressed right up against the truck window, sitting as far as away from Beverly as he could in the small space.

“Why are we here?” Beverly whispered, though she knew that their younger selves couldn’t hear her speaking. “I remember what happened. I was there.”

“You remember what you wanted to think happened.” Richie said back. “I told you. You don’t really know anything.”

“That’s rude.” Beverly snapped. She wondered if it was acceptable to punch a hallucination of a sixteen year old, or if it was still frowned upon morally. “I don’t know what this has to do with Eddie. He wasn’t even here.”

“This isn’t about Eddie.” Richie said. “None of this about one thing. It’s about you, about me, about Eddie… Bill. It’s about everything that happened that made your situation like this, Bev.”

Beverly felt her face burn. “You know about the stuff with Bill?” 

“Objectively, I know everything that has ever been and ever will be.” Richie said, stroking a long invisible beard. Beverly rolled her eyes. “But if you’re asking me if your Richie knew about you and Bill, then yes. I knew the whole time.”

Beverly looked down at her hands, but Richie pulled her chin back up to look at younger version of herself.

“I’m sorry,” young Richie was saying to her, hands tight around the steering wheel. He was staring out the windshield and Beverly remembered the feeling in her gut when Richie refused to look at her all too well. “I just… I’m confused. I have a lot of shit I need to figure out.”

“I don’t understand.” Young Beverly said, and she hated hearing the broken cracks in her voice. She wasn’t sure what kind of cosmic joke was forcing her to physically relive her first heart break, but she wanted to destroy it with her bare hands. “We were fine yesterday! Things were good, I thought-”

“I’m sorry.” Young Richie said again, eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t explain it right now, I don’t know how. I just need this to be over right now. I love you, Beverly, but I can’t do this.” 

Beverly could see her younger self pressing her hands to her mouth to keep from crying, and she thought she could feel what that Beverly was feeling. The swirling of her stomach and the clenching of her heart. The feeling of looking at the person she thought she was in love with, and seeing somebody she didn’t know. Couldn’t understand anymore. 

She watched herself grab at the handle of the truck and tumble off, taking off at a run into the night. Richie called after her weakly, once, then leaned over to close the truck door and crash his forehead against the steering wheel. 

Beverly and her Younger Richie were suddenly standing outside the truck, and she was watching herself run down the streets. On a reflex she started to run after herself, but Richie appeared in front of her and caught her once again. “That’s where we’re going next.”

“Why do you get to decide where we go?” Beverly cried. “You’re not real!”

“I’m as real as any of this.” Richie said roughly, though he let Beverly go and stepped back. He crossed his arms over his chest, and suddenly looked so young and so real that Beverly’s breath caught and her palms began to sweat. She’d lost her fucking mind, it was official. She couldn’t even control her own halluications. 

“Stop.” Richie rolled her eyes. “I’m not a dream, or a fucking hallucation.” 

Beverly blinked, and sighed heavily. “Then what the fuck are you? Because this… this doesn’t make any sense and I don’t want to be here!”

“Well, you can’t leave until you see everything.” Richie said, voice cold and detached. It didn’t even sound like the voice of a human anymore. “And you still don’t get it.”

“I get it, okay?” Beverly cried. “Richie was in love with Eddie the whole damn time, I was some sort of gay cover. Fuck him. What the fuck ever. Let me go back to-”

“To your subway bench?” Richie sneered. “If I wanted to show you how much Richie and Eddie love each other, I could do that.” 

Beverly thought she was maybe going to get whiplash as the world flashed around her while they stood in the same spot.

Eddie and Richie carrying boxes into a tiny apartment. Eddie and Richie sitting on swings in the Derry, snow in their hair. Eddie dropping down onto one knee at a tiny coffee shop. Them bringing boxes into the house they lived in now. Eddie picking up a small bundle of pink blankets in the hospital. Richie climbing in a crib to soothe a crying Frankie…

“Or I could show you the real truth.” Richie said simply, as the scenes began to change. 

Eddie walking out of Richie’s bedroom, hands pressed over his face while tears were still visible under them. Eddie and Richie standing in the middle of the road, rain pouring down on them, screaming at each other. Richie sitting in a dark living room, staring at nothing, while Eddie cried on his knees in front of him. Eddie holding Richie’s hand in a speeding ambulance, them hugging in a hospital room, packed suitcase on the bed behind them- 

They were standing in the hallway of Derry High School when Beverly’s head stopped spinning. They stood in front of their lockers, Beverly having a casual conversation with Bill and Eddie when Richie made his way down the hallway, carrying a cardboard box. He ignored his friends greetings as he yanked his locker open and started throwing his belongings into the box. 

“No.” Beverly said softly, mouthing curling up in disgust and stomach bubbling. “I don’t want to see this again. Richie, I don’t-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Richie said quietly, eyes stuck on the scene unfolding in front of them.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked, and Beverly could hear the panic in his voice. She had been able to hear it back then, in the real moment, too. 

“Apparently I cheated on the SATs.” Richie said, not taking his face away from his locker. Not looking at anything he threw into the box. “They expelled me.”

Beverly’s stomach dropped to her feet, and she remembered feeling the exact same sensation in the moment as well.

“What?” She’d cried. “That’s such bullshit, Richie! You’re the best student in our year, why the fuck would you cheat on the SATs? You don’t need to.”

“You have to fight this.” Eddie said pleaded, and Beverly saw something in him this time. Something that she hadn’t noticed in real time. The way Eddie trembled when he reached for Richie, the way his entire face seemed to collapse when Richie jerked away from him. 

“You were together then.” Beverly said, not a question.

“Yeah.” Her Richie answered anyway. 

“They have a witness.” Then Richie said coldly. He closed the now empty locker and removed his lock. “Somebody said they saw me, or some shit. It’s over. It’s done.”

“Rich-Rich-eRichie.” Bill stammered, but Richie waved him off. 

“It’s fine.” Then Richie said. “I’ll see you guys around.” 

Eddie took off after him as Richie walked from the school, books and locker decorations all in a box. Beverly knew before it happened that they were going to outside standing with them. Richie had almost made it to Maggie’s waiting car, when Eddie caught up to him. 

“Richie, Richie, wait, please.” Eddie pleaded, only wheezing for a moment. Richie placed his little box into the back seat and turned around slightly. The open, vulnerable pain on his face was something Beverly had never seen before on the teen. “Please, we can still fight it, we can-”

“No, we can’t.” Richie cried, voice breaking. “I’m not graduating, I’m not going to UCLA or NYU or anywhere we applied. I can’t, they’ve made up their minds. It’s fucking over, Eddie.” 

Eddie jerked back as though Richie had slapped him, and the words rang in Beverly’s brain. Eddie’s shoulders hunched up higher towards his ears, and he swayed slightly on the spot. “What’s over, Richie?”

Richie glanced around at the amount of students wandering around the front of the school, students who were looking, students who could hear. He turned back to Eddie with a look that Beverly couldn’t really describe but could feel like a punch to the gut. 

Eddie stared after him with his mouth dropped open as Richie climbed into the front seat of his mother’s car and pulled out of the parking lot. 

“God.” Beverly breathed out and rubbed a hand over her face. “That’s so…” She shook her head. “What’s next you’re going to make me live through? What? What else do you need? You want me to feel bad for Eddie, I do! Okay, I do! What sort of terrible awful memories do you have lined up for me? Eddie’s dad dying, everytime Henry Bowers abused one of us?”

Another flash. A dark park, Richie on his back, Patrick Hockstetter on top of him. Stanley Uris behind them, baseball bat in the hand, swinging-

Beverly gagged, spinning around and clapping her hands over her mouth. The scene changed again, her standing in her own childhood bedroom. Mike Hanlon laying across the bed with her, Stan sitting straight backed in her desk seat.

“I cheated off Richie on the SATs,” Stan said in a empty voice, sounding perfectly rehearsed. Beverly remembered the chill that ripped through her body at Stan’s words, and her arms broken into goosebumps just hearing it again. “They called me into the office about it, and I… I told them he cheated off me. That I’d saw him, but I didn’t want to get him in trouble. 

Stan and Richie in diapers, bathtub running behind them while Maggie crouched down in front of them with a rubber duck in each hand. Richie standing and applauding at Stan’s bar mitzvah. Stan’s baseball colliding with the back of Patrick Hockstetter’s head and and knocking him away from a half conscious Richie. Richie wrapping a towel around bloodied wrists. 

“I don’t know why I did it.” Stan said slowly, Beverly and Mike both staring at him without blinking. “I just knew I couldn’t fail, that I needed to get a good grade and this test was right there and I just did it. I didn’t think we’d get caught, that Richie would never know what I did and then they confronted me and I panicked. I couldn’t get expelled, I couldn’t, so I just-” 

“You don’t have to explain it to us.” Mike interrupted, but Beverly remembered wanting to say things much, much worse to Stan in that moment. “The only person who can forgive you is Richie.”

The scene twisted once again, but Beverly and Richie were now in some sleazy looking New York Club. Beverly wiped at the tears that started to fall down her face. Richie rubbed at her arms. As she pulled her face back, trying to catch her breath, she caught sight of Richie stumbling out the front door into the dark NYC streets. She watched the guy in the leather jacket accept a bill from  his friends and followed after him. “God. What now.”

“Not out there.” Richie said somberly. “We’re not here for me. We’re here for you.”

Beverly turned around and let her eyes fully adjust to the ugly bar lighting, and she suddenly recognized it. Recognized herself, sitting alone at the bar. The man who had given the money to the friend who had followed after Richie noticed her and got up. Beverly realized who he was now. Tom.

“What did that guy do to you, Richie?” Beverly asked, feeling her heart begin to hammer in his chest.

“Not the point, Bev.” Richie said sadly. “This is your story, no matter how connected everything always is.”

Beverly shook her head, watching Tom putting on the charms for her. He didn’t seem nearly as attractive as Beverly remembered him being all those years ago. He just looked like another scumbag in a bar, and Beverly was disappointed in herself for going home with the loser that night. Never mind the path it lead her on.

“Did you ever like him at all?” Richie asked her.

“Did you ever like me at all?” Beverly shot back. Richie raised his brow at her and she sighed. “I thought I did. I wanted to.”

“Yeah.” Richie said, giving her a soft smile. “Me too.”

Beverly gave him a smile back. “I know that it wasn’t meant to be and Richie. I didn’t even think so when I threw that shit in Eddie’s face. It was some stupid defensive bullshit and I never meant those things to him for a second, I just didn’t know how to take them back or make anything better.”

Richie shrugged one shoulder, eyes still stuck on Beverly’s husband. “So, what are you going to do now? When you go back to the real life? You have a husband waiting for you, a nice round of apologies to make…”

“I don’t know.” Beverly breathed out. “I could go back to Tom, I should. I need a place to live and we’re married and he loves me. I thought I loved him once, I could do it again. What other options do I have, really?”

 Standing outside Derry Middle School, a completely unsigned yearbook in her hands. Ben slipped a A Derry postcard with a poem into her book bag. A slow dance in the school gym at senior prom. Drinking in a Derry hotel room. Kissing in front of beautiful, empty houses. 

“Okay.” Beverly rolled her eyes. “That one was a little unnecessary.” 

“Was it?” Richie challenged with a grin. Beverly opened her mouth to respond, but suddenly found herself opening her eyes on a subway bench. She sat up, and pulled the sweater tighter around her. She found suddenly that it didn’t smell like Richie anymore. 

She took her time walking through the streets of NYC before reaching her designation. She buzzed into the building.

“Hello?” The groggy voice on the outside side answered.

“Hey, it’s me.” She said through a voice crack. “Can I come up?”

[honeykngdom]

DADDY ISSUES

request: fluffy blurb of baz actually wanting j to be his son  a/n: I woke up at four this morning with some anxiety, and I sorta wrote this on my phone. It’s unedited and it isn’t great, but let me know whatcha think :)

“Are you my dad? I know that you and my mom were …”

“What if I am? It’s too late to matter, isn’t it?”

He was nervous. Two days ago, his emotions were running high. He meant it when he said it was too late to matter. The kid was grown. He had his own opinions, could hold his own — a father had obviously never been a priority to him before, so consider Baz surprised that he had mentioned it at all.

To be frank, he was more surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

He wondered a hundred times over and over if a day would ever come where he might have to actually face a reality he tried to bury long ago. And then when confronted about the truth, he shrugged it off instead. Seventeen years of waiting, and he walked away. Cath talked him down after he stormed into the house, face red, breathing heavy and loud. It was just the job that was getting to him. It was just his stress running high.

So what was he so scared of? Being a father – to anyone – was still fairly new to him. While he had known that the possibility of Joshua existed, Baz never gave himself the opportunity to prepare himself for situations like that. For conversations like that. And the longer he sat on the edge of his bed, Cath’s fingers slowly trailing across the span of his back, Baz began to look back on his childhood growing up, and decided the pair had some similarities.

He had grown up with a drunk for a father, and Julia … well, he knew that Julia had never been mother of the year. Shitty upbringings made for resilient adults; he knew Josh was imbedded with the same survivor instinct he had. He knew somewhere, there was a part of him that hated the idea of working for Smurf just as much as the rest of them.

So he’d go with that. Yeah.

It wasn’t his greatest plan, by any means. And he was usually pretty good with plans but this one sucked in particular.

Nothing but the sounds of the breeze through the leaves could be heard while he made his way into the backyard. Two woman lay half naked on the beach chairs, eyes shut and breathing even . Must belong to Craig , he thought grimly, turning his attention towards the kitchen inside the house. Smurf stood behind the counter with her back turned to him as he approached, knocking twice on the threshold as so not to scare or startle her.

“Hey,” his voice was soft and quiet; he was concentrating hard to keep the nervousness from coming through. “Is the kid around?”

Smurf casted a look to the man over her shoulder, corner of her lip lifting in a knowing smile. She nodded, using the knife in her hand to gesture to the hallway to his right, “In his room.”

“Thanks.” Baz let out another huff of air, running his sweaty palms over his denim. It was a considerably cooler day in Oceanside, and despite this, he felt like his entire body was overheating. And he could see Josh before he even reached the threshold, wondered if he were wasting his time. He probably hates me. “Hey.”

Josh looked up, eyes confused for a moment before they relaxed, “Hey.”

“You got a minute?” This was starting to sound a lot like the beginning of the conversation they had two days ago. Pushing the thought from his mind, he moved into the room to lean against a wall. “I wanted to talk about what happened the other day.”

The kids face immediately dropped, worry pulling his brows together in the middle, “Look, the smoke was a stupid idea, I know. It won’t happen again. I swear.”

Baz shook his head, dropping his chin to his chest. “No, not about that. Uh,” he cleared his throat, looking around the bare walls. God, why was this so difficult?

“Oh,” J quickly let the shirt he was folding drop back into the hamper, holding his hands up, “We don’t have to do that again. Seriously.”

“No, I want to.” Baz replied firmly, arms folding over one another. “I’m just … would you believe me if I said I never really wanted to be a dad? I mean, don’t get me wrong – I love Lena. I love my wife, I love my family, I do, I just,” he shrugged his shoulders, letting them drop in defeat as the look on Josh’s face morphed. “Look, my old man was a drunk, alright? I was locked up, I was beat up, I had to grow up too fast and all of that other shit.”

It was quiet. Not knowing what to say, Josh turned to sit on the edge of his mattress, picking at the calluses on his hand. “What’s that gotta do with me?”

“So, the idea of being responsible for anyone other than myself was always been a mystery to me. I wasn’t ready to be a dad then – I couldn’t take care of Julia. I thought I was doing you a favour by staying out of your life,” Baz’s features had softened, something Josh hadn’t witnessed before. It was odd, watching the face of a stoic man falter. “But look at me now. I’m responsible for the hoard of dipshits running around.”

“What’re you saying, Baz?”

The man looked at his son, jaw tense, palms slick with sweat again as he took another deep inhale, reminding himself that he had practiced what he wanted to say over a thousand times. He just had to say it.

“I’m saying that I might have jumped the gun the other day,” he admitted, taking another step into the bedroom. He joined Josh on the bed, not too close to make things weird, but enough to show he was invested in the conversation. That he was serious. “What I said about your mom, that wasn’t … that wasn’t cool, and I’m sorry.”

Josh kept his eyes glued to the carpet, a sudden trickle of anxiety brewing in his lower abdomen. He watched the man wring his hands, pulling and twisting his digits. He wanted to say he appreciated the apology, but he was sure nothing that Baz said was false. Not exactly said in the most tasteful way, but probably not inaccurate.

The teen turned to Baz, biting the inside of his cheek. Two days ago, he had so much he wanted to say. The idea of Baz – the only person who seemed to have some sort of head on their shoulders – being his biological father brought him more peace than he anticipated. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I think I kinda do.” Josh watched the man push his hands together, fold them, and then unfold them. "Look, J, I've done a lot of shitty things in my life. I've beaten people down, I steal for my own benefit ... but honestly, I always wondered how differently all of this would've turned out if I had left with Julia when Smurf curbed her."

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not one hundred percent about it,” Baz started, eyes closing as the words began to tumble from past his lips, “But there’s something telling me that maybe I was wrong. About being your dad.”

This time, Josh couldn’t help but snicker, brow lifting teasingly, “What, you want to coach my little league team now?”

Baz rocked sideways into Josh, unable to contain the smile that broke his tight lips; they sat together for another moment before the man decided to reply. “I was just thinking … maybe we could start over. I don’t have to parent you or any of that shit, I know you wouldn’t listen to me anyway, but I figured maybe …”

“Maybe it might be nice to give this a try?”

Baz nodded, nervousness vanished completely as he looked at Joshua again. This time, he really looked at him. Looked at the way his lips curved, just like Julia’s. And how his nose angled, the way his eyes shifted in the light. Were they blue? Were they green? He’s a good lookin’ kid , Baz thought to himself, he has to be mine.

“I’d like that.”