#YOU GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKERS I JUST WANT TO PUT MY PHONE IN MY POCKET

[pastafossa]

Don't worry, ladies. The Men Designers have heard our cry for bigger better pockets, and have decided what we REALLY mean is that our tiny lady pockets make us look fat, so we still get tiny ass, useless pockets, BUT NOW THEY SQUISH YOUR PESKY BODY IN, YOU'RE WELCOME.

[catierambles]

Fated Ch.8

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Clara Tunney (OFC)

WC 1845

Warnings: Some stuff that's been mentioned before in other chapters, (mentions of kidnapping, SA, etc) Minors DNI 18+ ONLY

@brattymum96 , @ouroboros113 , @peaches1958 , @summersong69 , @henryownsme , @eldarwen333 , @omgkatinka , @identity2212

Now that Walter could see them under good lighting and side by side, he could see the stark similarities in their appearances. They were fraternal twins, of course, but they both had rich black hair and pale skin without a hint of freckle. Mike's eyes were blue instead of brown and he recalled that their father had blue eyes as well whereas Clara got the color of her eyes from her mother.

"So," Walter said, "What're you doing here?"

"Not to bring Clara back to our parents, if that's what you're thinking." Mike said, "I want her to stay as far away from them as she possibly can. Them and Daniel."

"Like me, Mike never bought into me and Daniel being True Mates." Clara said.

"Fuck, look at them together for two seconds and you can see they're not." He said, rolling his eyes. "But mom and dad, and the Marks, they're twisted. Nothing anyone does or says will convince them of it."

"The first time I escaped Daniel and went home, Mike hid me in his apartment until we could figure out what to do next."

"I knew what mom and dad would do, and I wasn't going to let that happen."

"Not that it mattered." Clara said, "They found out anyway, and when they came to get me…" She shook her head.

"Yeah, dad sure did kick my ass."

"I thought he was going to kill you, Mike." She said, "He didn't stop beating you until I told them I would go with them."

"Still can't breathe right through my nose." He said, scrunching it slightly. "And I snore like a motherfucker. You still shouldn't've, though. I could take it."

"And if he had killed you? They still would have given me back to Daniel, only then I would also have your death hanging over me." She said, "No, I did what I had to do to protect my baby brother."

"I'm younger than you by two minutes, Clare-bear."

"Still younger." She said, "So suck it up, buttercup."

"I'm guessing Mike is short for Michael?" Walter asked, making a mental note to dig into him later, and Mike ran his fingers through his hair, grimacing slightly in embarrassment.

"Michelangelo, actually." He said, "Mom was an art history major."

"Little Ninja Turtle." Clara said with a snort and he pushed her shoulder.

"For obvious reasons, I go by Mike." He said and Walter nodded. "Before the po-po here damn near ripped my arm out of the socket, you two looked pretty cozy."

"He's my True Mate, Mike." Clara said and a wide, slow smile spread across his face.

"No shit, really?" He asked and Clara nodded. "Holy shit, Clare-bear!" He picked her up off her feet again in a hug, making her laugh. "We need to tell…everyone! Mom, dad, the Marks, everyone! Fuck, put it in the newspaper or something! Make it Instagram official! Scream it from the rooftops!"

"Down, boy." She said with a laugh and he set her down again.

"I'm sorry, I'm just…goddamn!" He said, "I'm so happy for you, Clara! All the shit you've gone through the last couple years, you deserve this! And Daniel deserves a swift kick in the nuts!” He pulled away from her, digging his phone out of his pocket. “Mind if I call mom and dad? Rub it in their faces?” She looked over at Walter who just shrugged.

“Your call.” He said and she nodded.

“Put it on speaker.” She said and Mike snorted, selecting the contact on his phone and putting it on speaker.

“Michelangelo, where are you?” It was her father who picked up.

“With Clara.” Mike said smugly and there was a beat of silence.

“Where are you.”

“Not going to tell you that, but I will tell you who she’s with.” Mike said, “You know that cop you pointed out and called a bastard? She’s with him. You want to know what else? He’s her True Mate ha!”

“Excuse me?”

“Hi, dad.” Clara said, “Yeah, I’m with Walter, you know him as Lieutenant Marshall, and yeah, he’s my True Mate. Not Daniel.”

“Clara…”

“I don’t want to hear it. I needed help and you gave me back to him.” She said, “Two years, dad. He forced himself on me almost every day for two years.” Walter reached out, taking her hand and she gripped it tightly. “You, mom, the Marks, you all tried to force fate so hard you ended up conning yourselves. You bought your own bullshit and I was tortured because of it.”

“Clara, we were only--”

“Shut up!” Her fingers tightened around his, “It doesn’t matter now. Walter is my True Mate and I’m with him.”

“He’s not one of us, Clara Faye, he can’t be your True Mate. You’re confused.” Her dad said.

“He reacted to my heat cycle.” She said and there was silence.

“He--”

“Picked up on the fact that I was in my heat cycle. I hadn’t gone through one since before Daniel took me, but I went through it about a week ago. It’s over now, obviously, or else he and I would still be bangin’ like bunnies.”

“TMI!” Mike exclaimed and she flipped him off.

“Everything I’ve ever heard about True Mates all agreed on one thing. Only your True Mate would be able to pick up on your cycle. Only your True Mate.” She said, “I don’t know how he was able to, maybe he’s recessive, I don’t know and honestly I don’t care.” They were speaking in terms Walter did not understand, not in the context that they were being spoken.

“You mated with him?”

“Frequently and quite enthusiastically.”

“Are you pregnant, Clara?” Her father asked and Walter looked at her in surprise.

“I don’t know. I haven’t taken a test yet, but you and I both know that even during a heat, it’s not guaranteed, just slightly more likely.”

“Come home, Clara.” Her father said, “If you’re with child, come home.”

“No.”

“Clara, come home. If you are pregnant, we’ll handle it.”

“Handle it?” She asked, “Handle it how?”

“We’ll get rid of that thing growing inside you--”

“Absolutely fucking not.” She said, her hand sliding over her stomach protectively.

“I won’t allow you to carry some mongrels--”

“Allow me?” She asked, “You won’t allow me? Fuck you! Walter already told you that if you ever came near me, or tried to find me, he’d throw you in a cell.” She stopped, taking a deep breath. “Listen, Mike called you to rub it in your faces that you were wrong and mission accomplished. I found my True Mate, dad, and it wasn’t Daniel. Do you hear me? It’s not Daniel. I never want to see or hear from you or mom ever again.” Reaching over, she ended the call and Mike blocked the number as well as another.

“Clara?” Walter asked, “Are you pregnant?”

“I don’t know.” She said again, “I’d have to take a test like everyone else.”

“Like everyone else.” He repeated, “Clara, you mentioned heat cycles. Your father said I wasn’t “one of you”. What did he mean?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Mike asked, looking at her in surprise.

“It’s not something I can ease into a conversation, Mike!” She said and turned to Walter, tugging on his hand. “Come on, we need to have an overdue conversation.”

Walter was very quiet after she finished speaking, looking down at his hands.

“So, you’re what?” He asked, looking over at her sitting on the bed next to him. “A werewolf?”

“Ehhh not technically?” She said, “We’re not tied to any kind of lunar cycle and can shift whenever we want, or not at all.”

“I see.” He said, staring back down at his hands. “And you think, because I reacted to your…heat cycle, that I’m one too?”

“Possibly? Probably.” She said, “Normal humans wouldn’t have been able to pick up on it. Like I told my dad, you’re probably recessive. It’s a gene, like blue eyes or blonde hair. Someone way back in your family may have had the ability and it carried over, even if the ability itself didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want me to go?” She asked and he looked over at her quickly.

“No.” He said immediately. “It’s just…a lot to process.”

“I know.” She said, her hand sliding over his and his fingers curled around it.

“How come you didn’t…shift to get away from Daniel?”

“I tried.” She admitted, “But he would always shift too and hold me down by the neck until I shifted back. He’s so much larger than I am that there wasn’t much I could do.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but stopped with a sigh.

“Clara?”

“There were a couple of times when he was holding me down with his teeth around my throat that I thought about leaning into it and pulling away, making him rip my throat open. I wanted to die and I wanted my blood on his hands. Or teeth, rather.” She said, “I always stopped myself, though. Never went through with it.” He reached up to slide his fingers into her hair, pulling her in even as he leaned into her, kissing her softly. “Do you want to see it?”

“See what?” He asked.

“My wolf. Do you want to see it?” He thought for a moment before nodding and she gave him a small smile, standing from the bed.

“The transformation is kind of…graphic, so I’ll do it in the bathroom so I don’t traumatize you.” She said and he turned on the bed, pulling his legs under him as she walked into the bathroom and out of sight. He didn’t hear anything for a long moment before a massive black wolf walked out of the bathroom, going around the bed, and sitting down in front of him. Its eyes were a warm amber and they stared at each other for a moment before he reached up, running a hand over her head. She moved into him with a sigh, her eyes closing as she leaned into his touch. It stirred something inside him seeing her like this and he held her head in his hands, leaning forward and touching her head with his, his eyes closing.

“Hey, are you guys naked?” Mike asked, but pushed into the room anyway, stopping as they looked at him. He saw Clara in her wolf form and a slow smile pulled across his face. “One second!” He ran from the room but then Walter heard paws thundering down the hallway a moment later, a large black wolf with piercing blue eyes bounding into the room. He went to her, sitting down next to her and she looked at him in question. His paw raised slowly and he smacked her on the muzzle, pressing his nose into her ear and snorting before taking off, just barely being missed by her teeth as she snapped at him with a snarl. She chased after him, running from the room and down the hall.

Siblings.

[unrequited-words]

03/02/23 Thursday

EDIT: It has taken me an hour to edit, and write this from my phone. There is a lot of cussing and I'm venting. Buckle up.

It's barely 11:00 in the morning and I am fucking exhausted. I didn't fall asleep until about 1:00 a.m. I couldn't sleep for shit last night because of insomnia. The baby finally woke up about 8:30 this morning and the first thing she said was good morning and I absolutely love that she's starting to speak more.

I woke up pretty fucking angry. I got paid and paid two bills and messaged my ex-husband or husband or whatever the fuck you want to call his toxic ass and I asked him are you going to file for divorce? You said you were going to file in January and we are now in March and then I said seriously, do I need to file since you won't do it?

He retorted back with well, "I'm dealing with my Dad's health issues and I don't know if he's going to make it in the next couple of days". Of course he wants to be fucking dramatic and he wants to skirt around the issue. The fucking issue is we're still married. The fucking issue is, I have begged him to file for a fucking divorce for the last three fucking years and he will not do it.

I don't know what his fucking excuse is besides, I'm in school, I'm paying for school, there are vet bills, I had a car payment, I had to do repairs because my car is breaking down ... This that and the other.

Of the excuses in the fucking world don't matter. What fucking matters is I want to fucking divorce. He is dragged me through fucking hell for the last 10 years. In the last going on 4 years it's been a fucking complete shit show of a nightmare. He thought my kid was his and obviously she's not.

The times don't match up from the last time I faked sex. Then, you forced me to get a fucking DNA test to where I had to pay out of pocket when i'm barely making $13 an hour, to where I was barely making bills.

It came back with a 0% chance that she is his and I fucking knew it, I fucking called it! and I'm just like fine whatever it's just to get him to shut the fuck up at this point. For the last year and a half I've been begging him every other month have you filed? And he's dragging his feet. What the fuck is he hanging on to?

Here are the facts: he has been with his girlfriend for about a year ajd she still doesn't know he's still fucking married! In October of last year they went on a fucking trip from Phoenix to some shit place in fucking New Jersey on her dime which is great it was her aunt that paid for the trip because she needed to help out family...

he was working remotely which is fine and dandy but you still are fucking married and haven't signed divorce papers, retard. Just put the paperwork through. Right around Christmas they went on a motherfucking cruise a fucking cruise. MUST BE FUCKING NICE!

wanna know the last vacation I had? When my water fucking broke, and I spent a cool 8 days in the hospital thinking I'm going to die due to hemmorage, and my baby being a preemie thinking she will die too

I was fucking livid when I found out because dumbass decided to post his great life on fucking social media. Instagram of all places. It fucking made me see red. I work my ass off. I pay my fucking taxes, I pay my fucking bills, and I'm still fucking married to this goddamn loser! I'm still married to this God damn fat fuck who will not make a move!

If I have the money if I have the extra fucking money I would spend the time and energy to file for divorce. The extra money I had went o Bill's and somehow I finally bought a mattress that isn't sinking due to my partners ex wife fat ass causing it to sink in creating a fucking hole

He has all the fucking documents and I don't. so if I file for divorce I would be fucking guessing. Yes, it's all my fault because I don't know what he makes, I don't know where he lives, I think I remember the last four digits of his social security numberif I needed to file.

The matter the fact is, I left in December of 2019. I left a marriage that hadn't suit me for fucking years. I was in a marriage to where he was mentally unstable and a man who can't add 2+2. My excuse? I was in school at the time so any money I had for financial aid went to those fucking bills.

Fast forward to 2023:

When I get paid I look at my budget, when I get paid I look at what bills are due. I've never had a bank account mind you to where I don't have enough money and I OVERDRAFT. I do get the luxury of getting letters from the bank that he has overdrafted 3.00 every fucking time.

He is a fucking loser who can't get his life straight and at 40 he still fucking lying to his girlfriend thinking that going to get married, maybe whatever; but, she probably assumes that he's fucking single or separated or whatever she doesn't realize this fucking loser is still motherfucking married!

I made the choice of marrying him shows how low myself esteem was I knew when I left and I was with my current partner boyfriend baby daddy whatever the fuck you want to call him I knew this is it for me. I knew that I made a smart choice. we got pregnant right away which was such a shock.

it just got to a point where I guess he had a hard day at work and I was grieving and dealing with the death of my mom this is about 4 years ago. He saw me going through it and he said I can't deal with you right now and I took that as he can't deal with me at all. That's when I fucking checked out. I was fucking done.

That's when I started focusing on my health, my weight loss journey and my overall well-being.

In 2019 I finally was able to get a retail job working at a mall in Las Vegas selling clothes and I had that job for about 2 months.

Even though I had a shit paying job part-time at $9 an hour it was better than nothing. At least I had some line of work that I was doing to prove to in my resume that I'm not a worthless piece of shit.

So, when covid hit we made the choice to go back to Salt Lake because Las Vegas had completely shut down there was so much uncertainty and I was very newly pregnant I was maybe 8 weeks along when we moved. So for the last three and a half years it has been a fucking shit show.

I'm just so fucking angry. I don't have any alcohol to cope with it which is oh so healthy. I have fucking beer which is great I guess? I'm just realizing that I wish people would just leave me the fuck alone, and stop sucking any emotional energy from me. Most people that I've met are fucking toxic, and need to dive off a cliff.

I want my peace back. I don't fucking care anymore. After that shit show that happened with my ex so called best friend and realizing people fucking suck I should just move on but I kind of wish she fucking die. When you fuck with me I really hope karma I really truly hope karma fucks you.

welcome to my Ted Talk

[ragingbookdragon]

So Live A Lie, Just Tonight, And Burn Out Bright

Batsis x Hal Jordan One-Shot

Word Count: 3.8K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mature Themes

Author's Note: I decided to compile that one Batsis "story" into one doc, and I added the alternate ending for the one anon who asked! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“Alright, easy sis, easy,” he worried, watching her carefully for signs of pain flickering across her face as he helped her off the bike.

She scowled, managing to drag her injured leg forward. “Quit nagging. I’m—ngh—fine.”

“You’re on emergency oxycodone and you’ve got a broken femur,” he retorted. “I’m nagging until you’re in surgery.”

“Ugh, stop reminding me.”

Someone hauled her off her feet with a quiet, “I’ve got you.”

She grunted in pain laying on the gurney. “Thanks, dad.”

“Miss Wayne, are you alright?”

Her eyes found Alfred’s. “I’m good. I just ne—motherfucker!” she yelped, glaring at her father who was squeezing her thigh. “Hey! That’s broken, jackass! Quit!”

Bruce grunted. “You need an ORIF now.”

A pinch in her arm made her twitch and she turned her attention to Alfred who was uncapping a needle. “Alfred, what’s that?”

He shook his head. “Nothing to worry about, Miss Wayne.” Smiling, he stuck the needle into the line. “You’ll feel better when you awaken.”

Her vision blurred rapidly, “Gonna take…a nap…now…” her head lolled, and Bruce met Alfred’s gaze.

“Call Damian. He’s got the steady hand we’ll need.”

***

“How’re you feeling?” Jason asked, setting a cup of juice on the bedside table.

She blinked slowly, staring at her fingers. “Why are my fingers like this?”

“Like what, Queenie?”

“Bendy,” she replied, flexing her fingers. “It’s fuckin’ weird.” She looked at him. “I feel weird.”

He snorted, nodding at Dick and the others who were walking in at the sound of her voice. “You’re on hydromorphone, sis.”

“Hydro—what-what?”

“Hydromorphone, sister,” Damian said. “It has increased your threshold for pain and reduced the perception of it.”

She stared at him like she hadn’t heard a word come out of his mouth. “I didn’t understand a single goddamn word that you just said.”

Snickers sounded around her, but her head was up in the clouds and she rested back against her pillow. Her family gathered around her, sitting up on the bed, and suddenly she cocked her head up, squinting at each of them.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” Bruce inquired.

“Where’s Dick?”

“I’m right here, sis,” he answered, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “What’s up?”

“Why’d you break up with Kori?”

His eyes widened. “I—what?”

“Kori. Tall alien with the shooty-hands.”

“I know who she is. What about our breakup?”

“Are you kidding me? That woman is spectacular, and you broke up with her. She’s gorgeous, wicked intelligent, fantastic in bed and—”

“Wait, back up there,” he interrupted. “Good in bed? Did you sleep with, Kori?”

“Oh yeah, totally. I was her rebound after you.”

Dick blinked while the others cackled. “Have you…have you slept with any other exes?”

“Of yours? Or in general with the family’s exes?”

“Wait,” Jason said. “Have you slept with any of mine?”

“Did you date Artemis?”

He shrugged. “Sort of?”

“Then, yes.” She looked at Bruce. “I slept with Selina too, but to be completely honest we were both drunk and I don’t think either of us remember.”

“I uh—” he started, then quieted. “I didn’t know you were gay, sweetheart.”

She let out a ‘pfft’. “I’m not.”

“Oh, you’re bi, then?” Dick smiled and she shook her head.

“Nah, I like the wine but not the label.” She grinned. “I’m a lover of people.”

“How many superheroes have you slept with?” Tim questioned and she pursed her lips.

“Uh…I dunno…kinda lost count.”

For a moment no one said a word, then Jason asked, “You know how we call Dickhead the fuck-boy? Can we refer to you as that now? I think you’ve topped his count.”

Her eyes narrowed into a glare and she pointed at him, though she was seeing double, so it was entirely possible that she was pointing at the wall. “Keep that up and I’ll sleep with your best friend again.”

“You slept with Roy?!”

“I was talking about Kyle, but Roy works too.”

“OH MY GOD! IS THERE ANYONE YOU HAVEN’T SLEPT WITH?”

She thought for a moment, then offered, “Diana. But I asked her out last weekend so it’s up in the air until our date.”

***Part Two***

There was only one rule that everyone collectively followed in Wayne Manor and that was: no excessive noise until after twelve P.M. It was mostly influenced by Alfred who’d more than once pulled out the shotgun but surprisingly, mornings were usually calm and quiet. Keywords: “Were” and “Usually”. There were some special cases.

An ear-splitting scream shattered the silence of the breakfast room and in an instant, everyone was jumping from the table, sprinting towards the staircase to find out what was quite possibly murdering their eldest sister. As they neared the staircase, they came face to face with her as she stood behind the banister, her hands gripping the railing until her knuckles started whitening.

“Sis, what’s wrong?” Dick worried, already starting to come up the steps, Jason and Tim close behind.

“I’m late,” she whispered, and they leaned forward.

“What was that?” Bruce inquired, brows furrowing, and she looked at him.

“I’m late.” Her voice was firmer this time.

He blinked. “How long?”

“Two months.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Jason questioned, shaking his head and she scowled.

“My period’s late, jackass.”

She wished she’d taken a photo of their faces, because nothing would ever amuse her as much as the way their jaws went slack, eyes widening in total shock. Running a hand down her face, she groaned, “Oh my God. I knew something was up. I completely forgot about it.”

“Sooooo…” Tim drawled out with a recovered grin. “Who’s the daddy?”

Her eyes narrowed and she shot him a glare. “Shut. Up.”

“C’mon sis, someone—some guy did it for you.” Jason quipped. “Who’s the lucky man?” he paused, seeming to remember something. “How many superheroes have you slept with in two months? That have dicks, of course.” She clenched her jaw and his eyes widened. “Oh no. Oh no…is it, Roy?”

“It’s not Roy!” she hissed.

“Kyle?” Dick offered and she shook her head.

“No. I’ve only slept with one guy in the past two months.”

“Who was it sister?” Damian quizzed, placing his hands on his hips. “I have yet to meet anyone acceptable for you to populate with.”

“Thanks Damian,” she griped, then groaned. “Oh God, I know who it is too. And I wish I didn’t.”

“Why’s that?”

Her eyes found Tim’s. “Because we were drunk as hell after a League mission.”

“Who is it?” Bruce grunted and she met his gaze.

“You’re not going to like it.”

Something passed between them, and his eyes narrowed. “Please don’t say that’s who you slept with.”

She nodded, pressing a hand to her face, hiding her embarrassment. “Mhm.”

“You slept with him?”

“Unfortunately.”

Jason looked between his sister and father. “Wait, I’m confused. What’s going on?” A snort sounded beside him, and he looked over, seeing Dick in tears. “Why are you crying? What’s so funny?”

Dick cackled. “SHE SLEPT WITH HAL JORDAN!”

Another round of slack jawed brothers appeared in her sight, and she hissed. “It was an accident!”

“YOU’RE HAVING A BABY WITH HAL JORDAN!” Dick gasped, starting to drop to his knees from laughing so hard. “OH MY GOD, YOU SLEPT WITH THE GUY DAD HATES THE MOST!”

“You slept with Hal Jordan?” Tim gagged. “Ew.”

“Sister, I am disgusted in your choice of partners for children.” Damian noted and she scowled.

“I hate all of you.” she looked at Bruce.

He sighed heavily, a defeated father…or maybe a defeated grandfather. “I’ll go call Hal…and order prenatal vitamins.”

She ran a hand down her face. “I’ll call Leslie and get in for an exam.”

“Holy shit,” Jason gasped. “We’re gonna be uncles!”

***Part Three***

He shifted the phone to rest between his ear and shoulder, hands busy pouring coffee into his cup. “Hello?”

What are you doing right now?

“Bruce? Is that you?”

Answer the question, Hal.

He rolled his eyes and frowned. “Well, it’s nine A.M., I’m making a cup of coffee. I know bats are nocturnal, so this might come as a surprise to someone like you, but rest assured it’s a normal habit for us normal folks.”

How fast can you get to Gotham City?

“Willingly?” Hal chuckled, setting down the coffee pot to grab the phone. “What’s going on?”

I need your…help…with something. And I need you in Gotham as fast as you can get here…please.

He almost dropped both the phone and coffee mug. “Did you just say you need my he—” the line went dead with a click, and he pulled the phone from his ear. “Asshole,” Hal scowled and shoved the phone in his pocket, before putting the mug down. His body flashed green as he suited up and he sighed. “Can’t believe I gotta go to the land of the living dead at nine A.M.”

***

He rubbed his temples as he disconnected the call, barely suppressing the sigh that wanted to escape him. “Are you mad at me?” he heard behind him, low, scared, and worried; he shook his head.

“No.”

She leaned against the desk, staring down at the side of his head. “Are you disappointed in me?”

Bruce sighed this time. “At your basic lack of common sense and sleeping with a team member despite the fact that I’ve told you time and again that inner-team-dalliances only end badly? Yes.” He turned his eyes to her. “But for being pregnant? Never.”

“Doesn’t seem like it, dad,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest; he watched them lower to hold her stomach.

“I think Hal Jordan’s an idiot,” he stated. “If it seems like I’m upset, it’s because he’s going to be my grandchild’s father and I’ll have to be nice to him now.” She huffed a laugh and he reached over, placing a hand on her arm. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. We’ll take care of this.”

“I know, it’s just…” she sighed. “I never expected this to happen.”

“No one ever does,” Bruce answered. “Have you contacted Leslie yet?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’ll go see her around three.” Grunting, she muttered, “Figured if Hal got here in as soon as possible, we’d have enough time to sit and talk about this before we went.” She ran a hand over her face. “God, I can’t believe I Hal knocked me up.”

“Please don’t say that,” Bruce griped. “I don’t like that phrase.”

“But that’s what happened, dad. I got knocked up by Hal.”

“Why do you hate me?” he scowled, dropping his head into his hands. “How did this even happen?”

Sighing, she recounted, “After the mission in Brazil, Hal invited Barry back to Coast City for a drink and Barry invited me.” She shrugged. “I didn’t wanna be rude even if I am typically antisocial, so I accepted, and we got there and found a bar. After a couple hours, Barry had to get back to Central and we just decided to keep drinking.”

She grunted. “Hell, by seven thirty we were already gone so we got a ride back to his place and he offered to let me stay the night and one thing led to another and—”

Bruce raised his hand, effectively silencing her. “I can infer what happened after that.” He rubbed his temples. “Let’s just wait for Hal to get here, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, falling silent.

***

Alfred cleared his throat. “Master Jordan, is here, sir.” They both looked up from the Batcomputer at the test pilot.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said, and the butler nodded, ascending the steps.

Hal walked towards them. “So, what’s the deal? Why do you need me?”

Bruce looked at her and she sighed. “Actually, I’m the one who needed you to come here, Hal.”

His brown eyes darted to hers, a flash, a recognition of something and he nodded. “Aright. What’s up?”

“Dad…give us a moment?” he nodded and stood from the Batcomputer, walking to the medical section on the other side of the cave. She waved Hal over. “You might wanna sit down.”

He did, albeit suspiciously. “Why are you acting so…weird?”

“Hal,” she said, then looked at her hands. “I’m…ah crap.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, brows furrowing.

She took a deep breath and admitted, “My period’s late and there’s a good chance I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, Hal didn’t say a word, then he burst into laughter. “Oh, that’s hilarious!” he held his stomach and wiped his eyes. “That’s a good one.”

“I’m not joking, Hal,” she spat. “In the last three months, you’re the only man I’ve had sex with. If I’m pregnant, you’re the father.”

He stopped laughing at that. “Are you being serious?”

“Dead.”

Hal ran a hand through his brown hair and let out a shocked breath. “Holy hell.” She watched him and he gaped at her. “W-what…what do we do?”

“I’ve got an appointment with Doctor Leslie at four. You’re welcome to come along if you’d like.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.” Swallowing thickly, he said, “Does he know?”

“Dad? Yeah. They all do.”

“They?” he repeated, eyes wide.

“My brothers.”

“You told them we slept together?”

She chuckled. “Apparently a year ago under heavy meds, I admitted I slept with Dad, Dick, and Jason’s exes.” She shrugged. “There’s not much I keep from them.”

Hal’s eyes shifted to Bruce’s back. “Can’t imagine the Big-Bat is happy about this.”

“Oh, he’s not. He thinks you’re an idiot, but judging by the look on your face, you already know that.”

He scoffed. “Your dad likes to think he’s smarter than everyone else.”

She cocked a brow. “He is.”

“And it seems like you’re following that strain well,” he shot back, and they glared at each other before cracking smiles.

“If this is real, we’re going to be some parents, huh?”

Hal could sense the fear in her voice, and he stood in front of her, placing his hands on her hips. “Hey,” he murmured. “No parents are perfect. And we’re sure as hell not.”

“If this is supposed to cheer me up, it’s not.”

“I’m not trying to cheer you up. I’m trying to reassure you,” he corrected, squeezing her hips lightly. “We’ll work through this, and we’ll do it together.”

She gazed at him then heaved a sigh and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thanks Hal.”

“Don’t mention it,” he chuckled, then murmured, “But if we really are going to be parents, should we tie the knot?”

“Absolutely not.”

***

“Hal, for the love of God, will you sit down?” she griped. “You’re starting to make me anxious with all that pacing.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before shrugging off his bomber. “I can’t help it,” he retorted. “I hate waiting.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” She rolled her eyes. “Leslie’s working as fast as she can. Just sit down and be patient.”

Hal paced for another minute before collapsing into the seat beside her; she took his hand in hers and rubbed her thumb on the back of his hand. “What are you doing?” he asked, and she hummed.

“Comforting you.”

“Why?”

She looked at him. “Because you’re worried.”

“How are you not?”

“I am,” she commented, and he scowled.

“You don’t look it.”

“Well, that’s because I was trained to retain my emotions a as child,” she retorted. “It helps when I’m dealing with children who are scared.”

“I’m not a child,” Hal hissed, and she snorted.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You know what? I’m gonna—”

The door opened and their mouths snapped shut as Leslie walked in with a smile. “Good afternoon.”

“Hey Leslie,” she greeted, then glanced at the papers in her hand. “So? What’s the verdict?”

Leslie handed her the file and she looked it over. “Case of irregular period, dear.”

She blinked and said dumbly, “I’m not pregnant?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Our bodies act up sometimes, even when we’re grown. Irregularities can still happen even now.” Clearing her throat, Leslie added, “But your blood and urinalysis came back negative. You’re not pregnant.” She looked between Hal and her. “With the results, you’re free to leave.”

She stood to her feet, but when Hal didn’t, she tugged his hand. “Hal,” she whispered. “Come on.”

He staggered to his feet. “Yeah, I’m coming.” He disappeared out of the clinic room, and she sighed, then looked at Leslie.

“Thanks doc.”

“Of course.”

***

They were quiet on the park bench, watching the sun reflect off the water and listening to the birds singing in the sky. “So…I guess that’s a relief,” Hal stated, and she nodded.

“Yeah. I guess it is.” Laughing, she said, “I mean could you imagine if I were actually carrying your kid?” when he didn’t laugh, she looked over at him. “Hal?”

He blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “Yeah, couldn’t imagine it.”

“Hal,” she plead. “Are you upset that I’m not?”

“What? No. No, I’m relieved you’re not pregnant, but…” he sighed and shrugged. “I dunno at the same time as scared as I was, I was happy, you know? Ready to step up and be there for you.”

She lowered her gaze to his hands and reached over, placing hers over his and he took it, squeezing. “Well, look at it this way. This was the universe telling you that you’re ready to be a father and this was the universe telling me that I’m not ready to be a mom or your baby’s mother.”

Hal gazed at her for a moment then chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it is.” He squeezed her hand again and climbed to his feet, flashing green as his suit appeared. “Now that everything’s sorted out, I should be getting back to Coast City.”

“Sounds good,” she agreed, standing to her feet.

“Can I drop you off anywhere?”

“Nah, I’m gonna walk around for a bit,” she said.

Hal took to the sky then looked down at her. “If you ever find yourself ready…call me?”

A shocked laugh bubbled in her chest, and she shook her head. “Not a chance in hell, Jordan.”

“Come on, don’t you think it would be fun to have the old Bat call me his son in law?”

Giggling, she waved him off. “Get out of here, Hal.”

Winking, he replied, “See you later, babe.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle and watch him leave, then she shook her head. “Ridiculous.” But a small smile was still on her lips as she headed down the street.

***Alternate Ending***

She gazed numbly out at the water, not sure if she should feel surprise or shock, but whatever emotion she was feeling had completely dumbfounded her. She was pregnant. Her hands had unconsciously pressed tight to her stomach, and she felt sick more than anything. Sick, scared, ashamed, every emotion that came with sleeping with a coworker—and every TV show and movie where the woman got pregnant from the affair.

How was she going to explain this to her family? To her friends? How was she going to face their scrutiny? Pregnant out of wedlock? With the biggest skirt-chasing, arrogant asshole in the galaxy? She’d take the brunt of their scathing opinions. He’d get off scot-free. He’d—

“(Y/N).” Someone’s hand rested on her shoulder, and she blinked, suddenly brought from her stupor and she looked over at him; his gaze was full of worry. “Are you okay?”

Instantly, she felt angry, and she jerked away from him, standing to her feet. “Am I okay!” she shouted. “You got me pregnant! Do you have any idea what this is going to do to us! To our reputations! To mine!”

Irritation etched across his face, and he stood to his feet, getting in her face. “It takes two to tango, (Y/N). We both did this—not just me.”

Her mouth opened to retort sharply, but damned if he didn’t have a point and she shut her mouth, tasting something bitter as she looked away. “I’m going home.”

She turned and his hand shot out, grabbing hold of her arm. “Wait, I don’t want you going alone.”

“Let go of me.” She hissed, trying to pull away, but he tightened his grip.

“No. It’s too dangerous for you to be out alone.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to Jordan. I’m—”

“The mother of my child.” Hal declared and she gaped at him. “I know what you and your family think of me. I know you think I’m an arrogant asshole and yeah, I’ll admit that I am.” He pulled her to him and wrapped his arm around her waist. “But if you think for a second, I’m going to let you wander around this bat-shit crazy city alone while pregnant, then you’re the one who’s being arrogant.”

He searched her gaze. “I’m many things, (Y/N). But I’m not going to abandon you or shy away from whatever this is.”

She swallowed thickly. “What do you mean ‘whatever this is’? Parents?”

“Us.” Hal said. “Maybe it’s just my big head, but I see the way you look at me. Yeah, I annoy the hell out of you, but you care for me.” He reached up, cupping her cheek. “And I care about you too. More than just what teammates should for one another.”

(Y/N) didn’t know what to say, because he did have a point. Hal was an annoying prick who at many times provoked her into physical confrontation, but on the other hand, there was nothing she loved more than fighting with him, because she knew he found it just as amusing.

Her gaze lowered and she felt tears well in her eyes. “I’m scared, Hal.”

“I know. I am too,” he murmured. “But we’re going to get through this.” He tipped her head up, catching her eyes once more. “We will get through this. Together.”

(Y/N)’s lips wobbled, and she tried for a lighthearted comment. “Isn’t fraternization against the rules?”

Hal grinned. “Only in the military.” He winked. “Last time I checked—we’re not in it.”

She laughed, leaning forward, and pressed her forehead to his. “How’s everyone going to react to this?”

He shrugged. “Probably with shock. I mean about me getting a girl pregnant? Not likely. Getting you pregnant? More likely.”

“Shut up.”

“I think we should consider getting married though.”

(Y/N) pulled away and stared at him. “Excuse me?”

Hal looked at her. “(Y/N), we should think about getting married. I mean, we’re gonna have a kid together. Might as well tie the knot while we’re at it.”

She merely blinked and spun, walking off. “Nope. Not happening. I’ll be your baby-mama, but I am not marrying you.”

“Hey! Wait up!”

[weepinglevi]

patience is a virtue

summary: college!au. all aged up. eren and reader continue with their sexual escapades. find part one here! warnings: 18+ minors dni. dirty text messages, dirty talk. dom!eren and bratty reader (i suppose?). throat fucking and semi-public sex. (no p in v tho) word count: around 3.5k A/N: i have a love/hate relationship with this eren ahaha, he's been ruling my brainrot ever since the last part so i hope you enjoy! there will be a part three eventually, so be on the lookout for that! enjoy your read and feedback is greatly appreciated! xx

you awake to your phone vibrating somewhere next to you. the hope of it only being a one-time occurrence quickly proven to be false as it just wouldn't stop. brr-brr. a second of silence. brr-brr. pause. brr-brr.

taking a mental note to never go to sleep again without turning off your phone, you roll over to your other side and try to ignore it. you could simply answer the texts, but that meant you'd have to open your eyes. and that whoever was texting you would win this weird battle you've just come up with in your head.

"if you don't pick up your goddamn phone, i'll smack you over the head with it," sasha groans from the other side of your shared dorm, words coming slurry with her tiredness.

brr-brr.

"i could also stick it up your ass, your decision," a pillow comes flying to your head, serving as enough of a warning for you to sit up in your bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"quit moaning, i'll turn it off now," you yawn, feeling around your bed for your phone, "you never hear me complaining about the shit you do in the middle of the night."

"that's because my shit is funny and not fucking annoying," she scoffs, followed by a muted thump as she is sinking back down into her pillows. sasha's way of ending the conversation.

you find your phone half-tucked underneath your pillow, the display already lighting up again. someone is desperate for attention, you think to yourself and unlock your phone with an annoyed sigh. the messages were coming from an unknown number.

thinking about your wet pussy. this is eren, btw. historia gave me your number. i told her you wouldn't mind you don't mind, do you?

in a matter of seconds, your heart is beating in your throat once more, just like this afternoon in that godforsaken computer lab. ears growing hot at his words, you could almost imagine the sound of him laughing at you again. with trembling fingers, you scroll down further.

anyway, let's do it again sometime i told you. i'll never let you forget about how you moaned my name i'm also not forgetting about how badly i want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours, so it's a win-win see ya, then

staring down at your phone, you don't know if you should answer him. and even if you would answer his texts, what the hell should you say? "fucking bastard," the words escaping your mouth before even realizing that you'd better keep quiet. the only thing that could make this situation any worse was if sasha were to wake up again.

scratch that, you think as you see eren's new messages.

how badly do you want to suck my cock? you looked really hot today, covered in my cum what, you're shy again?

there are two ways this could go: either you stand up, put on some clothes, and then go to eren's dorm to let hell rain upon him - or simply mute your phone and ignore him. deciding to go with the latter, you lie back down and save his number as "fuckhead", a small grin forming on your face. if he wants to be childish, then you can be, too.

the display still lighting up at a steady pace, you have to fight the urge to open his other messages. to physically prevent yourself from grabbing your phone again, you put your hands between your thighs and sigh. what the hell have i gotten myself into?

"so, who am i gonna have to teach some manners today?", sasha asks in the morning, "because there are only two valid reasons for sending that many texts in the middle of the night," she sits up in her bed and bends over to reach for her phone, "either someone's dead or there's a food sale."

cringing at the thought of having to read the countless other messages eren has sent throughout the night, you try to laugh at her comment, "of course, when there's food involved, you're all for it."

"girl's gotta eat," she claims, thankfully being too distracted by something on her phone to notice your strange behavior, "i'm gonna be back later than usual today, connie wants me to be his wingman again."

starting to go off on a tangent about how connie should just get a dating app already, sasha's words become more of background noise to you. you want to know what he wrote. what he has in store for you. at the same time, you curse yourself out. you're turning into a headless chicken and all of it because of eren fucking yeager?

you nod here and there, offering her a "yes" at what you believe to be fitting moments, desperately hoping she doesn't catch up on your restlessness. all the while the two of you are getting ready for the day. this goes on for a few more minutes and you have no clue what she's talking about now, so you decide to grab your phone and stand up.

"i'm gonna go for a run around campus, you want coffee?" you blurt out, interrupting her monologue. the device in your hand feels as if it's burning through your skin. slipping into your trainers, you're already halfway out the room, her perplexed "uh- yes, please," being muffled by the door closing behind you.

it's still warm outside - not as hot as yesterday, but warm enough for you to be glad to have forgotten your cardigan earlier. you let out a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. even though you told sasha you'd be out for a run, you walk at a slow pace.

some people are already wandering around campus, most of them on their way to a lecture. at this time in the morning, everyone has their heads full with their own worries so no one notices you slowly making your way off-campus.

arriving at a little park surrounded by trees, you sit down on the bench farest off. you notice your heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird when pulling the phone out of your back pocket. fuck him, you think once again while typing in your code. fuck him for making me feel this way.

12 unread messages.

didn't seem all too shy when i had my hand wrapped around your throat no need to play hard to get when i already had you if that makes sense? haven't fucked you yet doesn't mean i won't get to fuck you

all you want is to feel appalled by these messages. to screenshot them and send them to the dean. maybe even to his mother. sickened with yourself though, you already feel the familiar warmth creeping up your body, curling up in your abdomen.

i know you want it, too how fucking needy you were for me getting yourself off in public to the thought of me maybe you can tell me what exactly you were thinking of? gonna make sure to let your dreams come true, princess

pet names? you clench your fist at the thought of eren leaning over you, breathing the word princess into your ear. you have an inkling that he'd say it mockingly; spitting it out whilst gathering your hair in a ponytail, arching your back forcefully, and slamming his length into you without mercy.

no. you hate pet names. at least, you've always hated them.

i'm gonna find out if you're ignoring me right now remember, you're not the best actress. fucking suck at it, actually wouldn't want to be punished now, would we?

his last message echoed in your head. still coming to terms with the fact of what happened yesterday, now you have to deal with a whole new revelation: eren yeager being a cocky motherfucker pushing all the right buttons for you. even though you want to blast his ass for this, the mere thought of him being near you again is too sweet of an imagination.

you want to play this game, too. for whatever reason keep on riding this high, and you just know that no one could do it quite as well as eren can. somehow you can only imagine taking him on this ride with you, no one else.

so, in that manner you decide to ignore his messages. if he's desperate enough to keep on sending them in the middle of the night, you're sure it won't be long until he sends another text. and it would give him enough reason to try and punish you, whatever that might entail – you're excited to find out. fucking nervous, too. but then again, who wouldn't be?

you stand up and put your phone in your back pocket, a sense of excitement surrounding your steps as you turn left to make your way to the nearest coffee shop.

"something tells me you're ignoring me," of course, the moment eren's voice comes up behind you, you fucking flinch like a little bird that's been scared away, "mostly because i've seen you reading the messages, but what do i know?"

you turn to see him clutching his heart dramatically, "don't play with my feelings like this," he swoons, bringing one hand to his forehead. he's laughing again, all white teeth and bright smiles – you realize this is the kind of eren you rarely get to see. not the cocky bastard he normally portrays; right now, he seems to be a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, just enjoying himself. still, you want to show him that you can play just as well as he can.

crossing your arms in front of your chest, you slightly raise a brow, trying your hardest to not look as nervous as you feel. it's a lost cause though because you can already feel the tips of your ears glowing with heat again. can't things go my way for once? just once? you think and chew the inside of your cheek. you felt so sure of yourself just moments ago. how the hell can he have this sort of effect on you?

suddenly, his whole demeanor changes. before, he seemed laid-back, entertained by the game he played with you. now he leans forward, hands in the pockets of his jacket and an almost cruel smile forming on his lips, "don't try to challenge me in this. you'll lose."

you know that you should feel frightened. terrified, even. he's looking like a lion preparing to jump the antelope, a sense of alarming calmness around him that's causing the small hairs on your neck to stand up. but alas, the way he's looking at you seems to have the same effect on you his scent has.

"i told you not to ignore me," eren says and takes a few steps closer to you, "yet here you are, doing it again." the chuckle leaving his lips a stark contrast to his stern gaze, still trained on you. somehow, you feel awfully small again - still not frightened, though. you stare right back at him, tilting your head slightly as if you wanted to say "so what?"

"are you seriously that desperate to be punished?"

better now than never, you think and once again place a courtly smile on your lips, "seems like it."

for a split second, you see eren's smug look turn into a genuine smile. realizing that you're up for his game, he lets out a smooth whistle, "you do surprise me."

"if you wouldn't always be so full of yourself, i'm sure you'd have recognized this sooner," you can feel the confidence growing in yourself again. clinging on to it, you take a step toward him, "i'm full of surprises."

"oh, yeah? i bet you are," from the corner of your eye, you can see him lifting his hand. before thinking twice about it, you bat it away, "i'm not one for public displays of affection."

oh, it is on– eren's smirk turns into a full-fledged grin as he takes a grip of your wrist, "you sure about that?" lifting your hand to his face, for a short moment you think he's going to suck on your fingers again. but all he does is place a faint kiss on the back of your hand, "didn't seem like it yesterday."

"you weren't supposed to see."

"but i'm so glad i did," he leans forward, the two of you standing so close you can feel his breath on your face, "or else we wouldn't have this kind of fun right now."

still having a hold of your hand, he lifts his other to your jaw, gently tracing his thumb across your lower lip, "you looked so pretty in your skirt yesterday."

taking a leap of faith, you grab his hand, holding it in place and letting your tongue run across the tip of his thumb before biting down playfully. there's a hiss and then eren pulls away and grabs your arm, "come with me."

finally, you think and let him guide you to wherever he wants, let's have some fun, then.

on your way out of the park, you pass jean and marco. even though they stand to greet eren, he just raises his hand whilst not breaking his pace, "gotta go, have an assignment to work on."

"never seen you that determined, but go off," jean laughs.

before you know it, you're inside one of the countless maintenance sheds. pushing you against the wall, eren's movements seem to become more and more erratic by the second. pinning your arms over your head, he's looking down at you, breathing heavily. "you have no idea what you just got yourself into," licking his lips, he chuckles.

"oh, but i think i actually do," you smile innocently, fucking glad to have found your normal self again. admittedly, eren threw you off your game since yesterday – but it's just going to play into your hands now. he won't see it coming until it's hitting him straight in the face; that you're just as messed up as he seems to be.

"then prove it," he breathes against your ear, "tell me how badly you want it."

the stuffy air inside the dimly lit shed doesn't help with keeping eren's scent away from you. being so close to him, looking up into his shadowed face and right into his dilated eyes; you're like putty in his hands. you try to move forward, to touch him in some way because you just know that he'll feel so good under your skin.

"now now, princess," he moves even closer, wedging you between himself and the wall, "how about we learn some patience, first?"

you nod, but then grind up against his thigh, hissing through your teeth, "i worry i'll be a real handful." you know you could very well move your hands, too – eren seems to still be testing the waters as to how far he can go with you. but with him actually letting you grind on him; you decide to play into his hands.

your breaths grow quicker as you keep on, pace becoming erratic. all you want is to get rid of your track pants – come to think of it, what you actually want is eren under you whilst you continuously bounce on his cock. you want to hear him call you princess and immediately after call you his little whore because that's exactly what you are.

eren has a little smile on his lips and you know you should ask yourself why – because you're doing exactly what he has forbidden you to do – but you're too far gone. the heat growing, you feel your knees buckle but he's holding you up; one hand now resting on your waist for support. you're so close –

and then he pulls away from you, nearly causing you to topple over. chest heaving, you place your hands on your knees for balance, "what the fuck was – "

"patience is a virtue," interrupting you with a laugh, but his voice heavy with lust, "thought i might give you a lesson you're ought to remember."

you look up to see eren palming his erection through his pants, standing about an arm's length away from you, "but i have to admit, hearing you getting yourself off is fucking hot."

biting your teeth together, you straighten up and take a step toward him – only for him to click his tongue in disapproval, "you're gonna stay right there," tugging at his pants he raises his eyebrow, "i told you what i want, get on your knees for me."

"the fuck i will," you spit out and make a move again, grasping for his waistband. but eren is quick to take a hold of your hand and pushes you back to the wall, "come on, now, princess," he chuckles but his eyes are concentrated at you, "you want this, don't you?". he's asking for permission, the thought feeling very comforting to you. and also, very excited for what's about to come.

"of course, i do," you answer him earnestly, resting the back of your head against the wall, "or else i wouldn't be here."

"fantastic," he breathes, a little smile playing in the corners of his mouth, "then get down on your knees," placing his hands on your shoulders, weighing you down, "i won't ask again."

the change of tone in his voice has you nodding, slowly sinking onto your knees, you're bursting in anticipation. one hand finally pulling down his pants, he runs his other through your hair, then down your jaw until it comes to rest on your chin.

thumbing at your lower lip, he groans "do i have to be careful?"

you just shake your head no. then you break away from his gaze, fixing your eyes on the bobbing cock in front of you. it's tip leaking with precum already, you remember how badly you wanted to lick it away yesterday.

taking his cock at its base, you bend forward and slide your tongue around its head. the salty taste sending shudders down your spine, you make sure to lift your eyes again once you prepare to take it all down your throat. your other hand snakes up to his balls, slightly tugging them which earns you a moan from eren, and fuck, you're so wet at the sound alone, you let go of his cock and slide one hand down to your own center.

he gathers your hair in one hand, taking the base of his throbbing cock in the other, "bet this is what you thought of yesterday," he slowly but surely pulls your head in closer, "of how i fuck the words right out of you."

bucking your hips into your own hand, you can do nothing but whimper at his words. because yes, this is exactly what you imagined. he's only halfway in and you're already struggling to breathe, but not wanting him to stop you hold your breath and push down even further; trying desperately not to moan.

the tears in your eyes causing your vision to be blurry, you attempt to blink them away.

"shit – ", he's pumping into you now, rubbing the tears from your cheeks and then placing both his hands on your head, "you're doing so well – "

getting lost in his words, the fear of being caught is so far away; you finally moan around his cock. saliva soaking the hem of his shirt, you can't seem to take his whole length, no matter how hard you try. you're a fucking mess under him and the thought alone is nearly sending you over the edge.

he's trying to pull away now and you know he's close, so you snake your hand around his hip, hoping this is enough of a sign to him that if he dared to cum anywhere else than down your throat, you'd bite him.

"you really – " his voice is hoarse, "fuck – this is fucking perfect," he moans as he comes to the realization. leaning his arm against the wall behind you, he's fucking himself into your mouth, his panting and the sound of your choking filling the room.

you close your eyes to blink the tears away again, but eren pulls on your hair, "no – look at me."

with this the knot in your belly explodes, leaving you holding on to eren's hip as you ride the waves of electricity that are running through your body like lava.

"such a good little whore – " he's gone as well, holding your head in place as he's pumping his load down your throat, leaving you no other option than to swallow – which you eagerly do. you feel his legs shaking under your hands.

once again, eren hands you his shirt to clean your face. this time, you take it with a smile, noting that, "i still have your other one."

"don't worry, i'll come get it sometime when sasha's away," the two of you know exactly what this means – neither of you are planning on this to be over anytime soon.

"i'll let you know, then," you nod and stand up, hoping you don't look as well-fucked as you feel, and make your way to the door, "she's gone most of the time."

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[nekasu]

SnapCube’s Until Dawn Real-Time Fandub Sentence Starters (Part 1)

"I didn't bring my phone. It was in my other pants!" "This is a really long high five." "...I won't tell anyone about this." "Ya see, that's a joke thinger." "Can you see me? Don't answer that." "Who talks to screens? Maybe you can." "We're here in a strange time at a strange place." "Hopefully you enjoyed whatever the hell THIS video was." "When those girls died? That was funny." "My phone still has battery? Holy shit, I gotta keep that warm." "I'm trying to get like 100% on Animal Crossing." "Check it out, I have this gun. It's really really cool." "Are you McCree from Overwatch, hit video game?" "Make sure you don't shoot any guys with that." "Never mind, I do have the key. I just found it in my pocket." "We're all just really good beans at the end of the day." "Why did you hit me? That hurt so much!" "Sorry, I've been in jail a while." "My arm really hurts. Do you have any first aid?" "I just got off the big train in the sky." "This is my Smash invitation and frankly, I deserve it." "It was gonna be a surprise for your birthday, motherfucker!" "Jesus, everyone is so rude. What is this, Rude Mountain?" "This mountain fucking sucks." "I'm here to be rude to people." "I think this is sus. He's definitely the impostor." "As a gamer, I know all about Among Us." "Is this...Tamriel?" "Well, that's a cliff." "No, you got arms!" "I don't speak corn." "Grab my stinky hand!" "I will live on in the vibes!" "No, that's too fast! Oh, god!" "2x4? You're not even a 1x1." "You look so stupid right now." "Hehe, I'm under the bed now!" "It was for a prank video. Come on!" "It's fine, honestly. She has a blanket." "Women never listen to me when I talk..." "Everything's a big deal when you make it." "Oh my god she has pants! What the fuck?!" "No one told me I was wearing pants today!" "It's pretty cold because it's DEAD of winter!" "Hey, tree! Look at me, I'm looming right now!" "Not a blanket, but maybe I can keep you warm." "This fuckin' candle doesn't keep me warm at all.” "At least you're not calling it 'arm pants' this time." "Oh, wow! SHE'S looming! Oh, she can teach me!" "I don't want to play any of your Among Us games." "I have this weird feeling someone's looming around here." "Answer a question for me: how are you feeling today? YEAH!" "Well now, wise guy. Let's see who among us really is the funniest." "Helloooo there! I am Doctor Rabbit. The world's only rabbit rabbit." "Whoa, that guy was straight up looming! I wish I could loom like that.” "Was that that Anus Unnus guy?" "Hey, babe, you wanna go and record a blog with me?" "So are my pranks as good as Markiplier?" "Wait, when did they get the hugging perk?!" "See, that's what I think of your problems, is that they're just some sort of joke." "Got in real trouble with the locals, I did. They don't let me back there." "Maybe you're just trying to be woke or something." "Your insurance isn't covering these sessions, by the way." "We can send, like, aura to each other. You know like, uh, vibes." "I don't guess, I know. I never guess, I know everything. I do the math." "Two plus two equals you're my friend. Just kidding, it's four." "I just hurt all of my bones." "High five? No, you're too far away. My bad." "Did you solve my wolverine puzzle?" "Did you know doors hurt?" "Everyone has a raccoon!" "Why don't you keep it to yourself, tough guy?" "Save the fight until I have the camera ready, okay?" "That's not a view, that's a snow." "I think you're in the corridor of the monkey." "If you throw that me, I'm gonna fuckin' flip my goddamn lid." "You want some snow, bitch?!" "Lady? Girl? ...I should really learn her name." "Water's looking a little green, that's just the way I like it." "Did the ghosts take my friends again?" "I'm actually half ghost." "Is that a lightsaber? Like from Star Trek?" "I'm gonna level with you, I hate being in the same room as you." "BOOOOOOOOOOOK!" "You like the new office? I fuckin' don't." "You didn't read through the contract, did you kiddo?" "I can get fucked? Finally!" "Even the ghost agrees." "I should have fucking known. This ghost is such a libro." "That's great and all, but I'm gonna look like a jackass!" "This is what happens when you pull mean pranks. God punishes an elk." "THAT was a HEALING spell?! Oh god!" "Door key? You're pretty dorky!" "I can imagine a lot of dipshits, in fact." "Get un-naked! Get un-naked! Get un-naked! Get un-naked!" "I'm casting a hex on you now. Have fun getting hexed, idiot." "See? The Kinect causes psychic powers." "I can't believe Blue's freakin' clue is on here." "Ugh...I freaking hate doors." "Blue save me..." "Telling them the vibes made you do it won't hold up in a court of law." "Oh, would you look at the time. It's time for me to rip you a new one again!" "I cannot wait, but I suppose I'll have to." "The hex worked great. Now let's see if I can go shoot what remains of her." "I love running through the forest like a fucking weirdo." "You look like an idiot on the ground there." "If I have anything to say about it, you won't make it back." "I wanna see you, whatever you are, you funny-looking fellow." "Why do I have so much trouble with doors?" "Hey, funny voice! Fuck off, please!" "It's a saw trap, you dumb piece of shit!"

"Seems mysterious, but I won't shoot him this time. Gotta weaken him with the hex." "You're gonna get fucked if you can't say goodbye to a ghost. Trust me on that one." "Hey, uh, do you wanna stop having trouble with doors, now'd be a phantasmical time!" "Unless you want to work with me here, well...we're gonna be stuck here until dawn." "Not like you've ever done anything on purpose in your entire life, you fucking hack." "What, not even a goddamn laugh? Oh, it's gonna be a rough fuckin' couple weeks." "I can't believe I made it up to Rude Mountain only to be discovered by rude people." "I've got all my gamerscore on my phone, so I'm hoping that nobody really touched it.” "That's pretty cringe of you, buddy. I'm gonna put you in my Cringe Tuesday compilation." "If I wanted to talk about beans, I'd hang around with the fuckin' Among Us crew down there." "You know what? I have two arms, so I guess I CAN carry both of them at the same time." "I just got my lips unstuck. Aw, geez. I've been trying to talk to you guys this whole time."  "I left some beans in my backpack. They might be a few years old, but they don't really expire." "I should've known that coming to Rude Mountain would have made you worse as a person." "I've just been playing a lot of Among Us recently and I've just been trying to really get good at lying. "Oh, so NOW you're a funny guy, huh? You think you got your own jokes?! Ya think this is stand up?!" "I have blankets in the back, but I'm gonna go to the front just to see if I can spice things up a little." "I'm here to help you, and whaddya do? You spit in my goddamn face! ...Metaphorically, of course.” "What do you take me for, some kind of clown?! Some kind of Boo Boo the Fool that ain't done this rodeo before?!" "Here at therapy we're here to answer the one big burning question everyone's got: what the FUCK is wrong with you?" "I noticed you don't have much of a sense of humor. That might explain all the shit you've gotten into recently, wouldn't it?" "Well with my ten step plan I'll be happy to go plumb the depths of your sad, scared little mind and see what makes you...tick, as it were."

[just-about-nothing]

i got a phone call from this dude at like 12:30am who was like ‘i found your phone number on a business card in my pocket who the fuck is this’ and i was like who the fuck are you motherfucker walkin around w my business card in ur pocket and he was like bro i got this thing at the grocery store why’d you put it in my pocket and i was like i don’t fuckin know who the fuck you are and i sure as fuck don’t go putting my business card in random men’s pockets the fuck do you think i am?

but it turns out we have the same major but the name he gave me isn’t turning up on any of the class lists whereas i’m p easy to find (hence why yall don’t get my name) like i’m very googleable (like i googled my first name + my name of my school and my linkedin popped up first result) and i can’t just google this guy bc i literally don’t have any goddamn information about him that will give me a good result

then i called another dude -- a  friend, this time -- who i thought may have been behind this & he was like ‘yo i’m fuckin wasted lemme pass you along to all of my work friends, one of whom wants to fight the frat dudes you know’ and i was like ok sick please and anyway they seemed fuckin awesome so that’s cool. but i still don’t know who the fuck this dude is that called me

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

More Than Allies

Prompt: If you ever consider writing for the Sweetheart AU again (it's completely ok if not) I'd love love love to see a time where Frisk was the one to comfort Sans by being their pure, adorable self; there's just something lovely to me about the thought of Frisk realising Sans is sad and knowing exactly how to help him - anon

DISCLAIMER: This is part of a Flowerfell!AU I've got on my Ao3. I'm not posting the rest of them on here because that would take too much time and I ain't about to clog up y'all's dashes with that shit. SO imma link to this work AND the series on Ao3 so y'all know where this fits

Read THIS on Ao3

Sweetheart series

Warnings: this is a flowerfell!au, where Frisk has flowers growing out of them, so slight warning for body horror but nothing graphic

Pairings: all gen

Word Count: 1650

Patching up wounds is one thing. So is keeping someone alive.

But making them happy?

Whoever invented the concept of snow seriously needed their head dunked in a bucket of the stuff. For at least a day. When they could deal with having cold shit shoved into places it shouldn’t be shoved for hours on end, then they could say that they made a good decision.

Sans continues to grumble to himself as he trudges back through Snowdin. Grillby’s place isn’t inconspicuous enough right now, seeing as he just spent most of the night there looking after the child.

“…you better be keeping ‘em alive in there,” Sans mutters, turning the corner to make it to the edge of the town, “or else i swear, grillbz…”

He doesn’t bother finishing the threat. He knows the fire monster would burn the entire fucking town to the ground before letting harm come to someone under his protection. Hell, Sans has seen that explosive rage once or twice. He’s not very keen on seeing it again, especially not if he’s on the wrong side of it.

As he walks, his hand finds its way into his pocket, absentmindedly fiddling with one of the bandaid wrappers.

Shit.

He swerves around one of the icebergs—flipping off the wolf as he did so, he received a threatening snarl for his troubles—and hustles down the path in the bottom of Waterfall. The mushrooms blink innocently as he tromps down the path, finally making it to Temmie Village.

One of the Temmies looks up at him and snarls.

“yeah, yeah,” Sans grumbles, “i just got business with the shop. keep your temmie flakes in order.”

Luckily the Temmies still seem to hate the red glow of his eye. The rest of them part easily as he strides into the shop. The cardboard box hiding the real shop front is still soggy and mold-eaten, much like the Temmie behind it. It glowers at him as he pulls out the payment.

“wouldn’t kill you to keep it a little less decrepit.” He glances around at the artfully arranged trophies on the walls. “though it might make it harder to excuse not cleaning your shit.”

The Temmie just glares at him. Sans shrugs, the absence of the child cold at his side.

“just sayin’.”

The Temmie grumbles something Sans doesn’t understand as it puts the package on the counter. Sans nods and turns to go, thanks forgone. He’d paid. And the Temmies tended to get word after dark anyway, so he’s better off just hurrying back to the child.

‘Child.’ Yeesh, he sounds so fucking formal.

Well, Sans thinks as he scrambles into the cave and restocks the first-aid kit, death does have a way of making things sound really fucking formal.

The kid could’ve died.

Yeah, yeah, he fucking knows, they’ve died too many fucking times already. The flowers aren’t going away any time soon and they’re hurting. But that’s different. It’s different watching them die.

Sans growls as he forces one of the long gauze strips into the plastic box. The hinges wheeze and groan in protest as he finally jams the thing shut again and stuffs it under his coat. He’s been away too long. He’s out of practice.

Not at killing motherfuckers, no, he’s got that down pat. But caring.

Shit, is he even doing this right? The kid’s practically glued to his side day in and day out, partially at his bidding but mostly because the kid just decided his hoodie is perfect to cling to. It’s no different than that damn stick they won’t fucking leave behind. It’s like another limb or something.

…and he would be lying if he said the kid didn’t feel like another limb too.

Sans grits his teeth as he makes it to the shortcut chamber. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps out a quick message.

me: package in tow

hothead: Too many customers wait for 22h00

Sans sighs and slumps back down. There are just not enough hours in the goddamn day, apparently. He’s got a bone to pick with whoever invented time keeping the way it is too. Seriously. Sometimes it really got under his non-existent skin.

“time is fake,” he grumbles to himself, hand going to his pocket again, “so fake.”

He has to stifle a wince when the expected tug on his sleeve doesn’t come.

When did he get so fucking attached?

…okay, listen, when a kid growing fucking flowers out of them decides they’re your friend now, they’re your friend now. Sans doesn’t make the fucking rules, he just follows them.

That doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing.

The kid seems to remember what happens when they die. They always come back looking a little different—more flowers—but they seem to know what’s going on. Of course, that doesn’t mean Sans always knows what’s going on, but he knows enough to recognize the way they seem a little more sure of themselves. Which is good; that means they won’t be walking defenseless into any big shit storm, but that also means that if he fucks up, they’ll remember.

That’s the part he’s worried about.

He’s been doing okay…hasn’t he? He remembers they like Echo Flowers, they like the quiet burble of Waterfall, he always keeps an extra blanket at his Sentry stations, he keeps them the fuck away from his brother, and they…they like his voice.

He talks to them when he can. They seem to like being able to hold onto him—which, okay, he gets. He can’t imagine not being able to see anything, much less be a kid and have to rely completely on someone who might just kill you.

Unbidden, a bone forms in his hand. He growls and puts it away.

No. Never.

A buzz from his pocket startles him out of his thoughts. Grillby informs him he’s good to come over and he doesn’t waste another second before teleporting straight to the fire monster’s backdoor.

“Good,” Grillby mutters, already striding upstairs, “they’re almost awake.”

“any changes in their condition?”

“They’re almost healed. They’ll make a full recovery. Well…” Grillby trails off as he sits back down in the chair. “Except for…”

Grillby doesn’t need to finish. Sans’s SOUL clenches as he looks at the kid lying on the couch. They look so…so…

…fragile.

The flowers haven’t grown anymore, at least not that he can see. As he watches, a few of the petals catch the very edge of Grillby’s flames and the purple light makes them look almost white.

“how long’ve they been asleep now,” he mutters, “twelve hours?”

“Nearly.”

Sans mutters a curse and scratches the back of his skull. If they don’t wake up soon…

No sooner does the thought cross his mind—and get swatted away with the force of a blaster—the kid starts to shift on the couch.

“easy, sweetheart,” he says, worry growing in the pit of his chest as he watches them shift, “hey, kid. kid.”

“They’re having a nightmare?”

Sans bites back another curse and rushes forward. “hey, hey, sweetheart, it’s alright, i’m here.”

As soon as he gets closer, his chest starts to glow a soft white. Grillby stifles a noise of surprise as the kid reaches up for him, wrapping their hands around the lapels of his hoodie and pulling. Sans eases himself down onto the floor next to the couch and lets them bury their face in the fluffy lining of the hood.

“Shh, shh, sweetheart,” he rumbles, his hand coming up to steady them, “it’s okay, nothing’s gonna hurt you, ’s just me and grillbz here, we ain’t going anywhere.”

There’s a soft sigh against his clavicle and then clumsy signs appear in front of his sockets.

“you want me to talk to you, sweetheart?” A little nod. “uh, okay. there’s a, uh, a new cave in waterfall we should check out.”

Their little hands settle in his hoodie as he murmurs to them, their head starting to loll against his shoulder. He hears Grillby stand up and come over as well, hushing the kid’s confusion with a quick explanation that it’s okay, they won’t be hurt, Grillby just needs to check their wound.

The kid just tugs on their sleeve. They butt their head lightly against Sans’s and slowly reach out.

“what, you wanna hold my hand, kid?” Fingers twine with his. “okay, then.”

Grillby chuckles over his shoulder only for it to choke off when the kid grabs for his hand too.

Sans laughs. “guess you’re stuck now too.”

“…worse fates I can imagine.”

There’s another little tug on his SOUL. He frowns, looking back at the kid’s face, only to see their head aimed at the spot on his chest where his SOUL would appear. Then they lean forward and—

“Wow,” Grillby chuckles again, “you’re in this bad.”

Sans, cheeks still warm and bright red from the kiss pressed to his forehead, just stares. The kid seems to be satisfied with the light mortification they’ve just caused. Nodding proudly to themselves, they settle back on the couch. One hand firmly in Sans’s, one hand in Grillby’s. Without being prompted, Sans cards his free hand through their hair, smiling as they let out a hushed sigh, head flopping back onto the pillow.

“They trust you,” Grillby says, something like awe in his voice, “they really trust you.”

“…seems so.”

And yet, even though Sans will readily admit he has no idea what he’s doing still, he wouldn’t give it up for all the hot dogs in the multiverse.

[wherevermyway]

step out! do what you want (chapter two)

pairing: reader/bang chan
 side pairings: established changbin/minho, past jisung/reader, a moment of changbin/chan flirting but it’s brief and not serious rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: alcohol, party drug use, violence (fist fights), a little angst because everyone loves drama, lots of profanity, smut, unprotected sex, a bit of exhibitionism, minho is definitely a bit of a hoe and a bad influence word count: about 11,100! also on my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter two: hello stranger, who the hell are you?

recommended tracks: just disappear by takayan, the last by agust d, phobia by stray kids, fairy of shampoo by tomorrow x together, dynamite by bts, dumb litty by kard. playlist can be found here!

note: this chapter is much longer than chapter one and it’s a wild ride. I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it!

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

The soft light of dawn comes through the window behind you, gently causing you to wake up. For a brief moment, you forgot where you were, but last night comes crashing down on you like the slight headache you have from your body being mad at you for having a bit too much fun with drugs last night.

The bed shifts next to you as Christopher starts to wake up. He reaches his hand over your abdomen and pulls you back into his chest. “Morning,” he sleepily grumbles, half-awake, “how’d you sleep?” You smile, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

“This bed is really nice.” You run your hand across the sheets, then slowly turn to face Christopher. “I think our escapade last night helped me sleep pretty well. What about you?”

He grumbles and ducks his head under your chin. “You absolutely wore me out last night. I feel like I slept like the dead. What time is it, anyway?”

“I’m not really sure, let me check.” You say, starting to roll over when Christopher stops you, his grip tightening on your waist.

“I thought we agreed to have a repeat of last night this morning?”

“Yeah, yeah, but maybe we should eat something first,” you manage to squeeze out of Christopher’s grip as he groans dramatically with feigned despair, pulling yourself to the side of the bed and reaching down to your jeans. It takes some skilled fumbling to get your phone out of your back pocket with only one hand, but you manage to get it. Miraculously, when you press the side button, your phone comes to life - there’s still some semblance of battery left.

‘Holy shit,’ you think to yourself as you see your screen. Eight missed text messages from Minji and three missed calls. You expected the mass of texts, but she must have had a really good time last night if she called you.

As you open your texts, you briefly scan through them and your stomach falls to the floor.

What?! No way!

Eonni, you seriously can NOT be hanging with THE Bang Chan?

Babe, he is dangerous, you need to get out of there.

Oh my god. Why aren’t you answering my texts?

Chan’s a kkangpae, like, he sells a lot of drugs and shit. Why do you think I broke up with Hyunjin last year? He got involved in that and I wasn’t gonna deal with it anymore.

Oh, I never told you I dated Hyunjin, did I? Oops.

Eonniiiiiiiii I swear you better not be dead. I’m going to bring you back and kill you if you’re dead.

Seriously, I thought after you were done with Jisung you swore off music producers?? Girl, you have bad taste lol.

“Well?” Christopher’s voice scares you and you involuntarily drop your phone to the floor in surprise. “What time is it? Hey, are you okay?”

You shake your head in disbelief, but somehow compose yourself enough to nervously laugh it off. “It’s, uh, like 10:30.”

Your answer doesn’t really convince Christopher that you’re actually fine. He places a hand on your shoulder, gently giving you a squeeze, and you flinch in response. “Are you sure you’re okay? You dropped your phone and you look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Chan’s a kkangpae. It feels like Minji’s text is burned in your head; it’s all you can think about. A bout of nausea washes over you - the red flags you had pop up last night were right. The nice apartment, the drugs, the cool demeanour, hell, even the way he looked - everything clicked into place. This man wasn’t just a music producer, he was something way more serious.

Christopher gets up out of bed and walks to the kitchen. He shuffles around for a minute before he comes back with a bottled beverage in his hand, kneeling down in front of you. “Babe, you look terrible. Drink this, it’ll help you feel better.” He takes his other hand and gently rubs his thumb over your knee. The look on his face is deceptively calm and inviting. How was he so dangerous?

You shake your head and grab the drink, briefly glancing over the label. Some cold ginger tea blend that you’ve had a thousand times before. The thought of drinking something right now was really off-putting, not due to nausea, but this crippling, suffocating feeling in your stomach.

“The washroom’s through that door back there,” Christopher says as he points behind his shoulder. “I’ve gotta check on something, but I’ll be back in a minute. If you need anything, just yell for me, okay?”

You still can’t manage to look him in the eyes, but you will yourself to nod your head weakly. He pushes himself up onto his toes, kissing your forehead softly before he walks over to his closet, ruffling through the clothes hanging up. It’s a good moment to take off to the washroom, if anything just to wash your face and get your bearings straight.

Time seems to stand still. You’re not sure how long you stand with your head hanging over the sink, water starting to dry on your face. The fact that Christopher was a kkangpae seemed foreign and odd, like the word didn’t actually exist anymore, the more you mulled over it in your head. You came to the conclusion that he himself couldn’t have been that dangerous, but that the people he involved himself with were probably really dangerous. Right?

Knowing that you had slept with someone with dangerous connections didn’t bother you as much as the fact that you liked sleeping with him, that he was arguably one of the best guys you’d fucked. If the circumstances were different, you would probably try and keep whatever you had going. The thought of dating someone like him didn’t seem so terrible, except for the fact that he was a goddamn drug dealer.

“Fuck,” you groan as you look at yourself in the mirror. You decided you had to get dressed, come up with some excuse and get out of there. “Right.” Instilling a fake air of confidence, you straightened up and opened the door back to the bedroom. As you walked through the doorway, you could see Christopher in the kitchen through the corner of your eye. In the time it took you to get your head on straight, he had dressed himself back up in a nice button up shirt and some dark blue jeans.

“Oh!” He calls after you from the doorway, “I grabbed a shirt of mine and a pair of pants that I think will fit you? They’re on the bed.”

‘Great,’ you sarcastically thought to yourself, ‘I’ve always wanted to wear a drug dealer’s clothes. Very cool.’

You grab your underwear and bra from last night and slip them on, feeling gross and like you needed to get back home now, if anything, so you could shower and wear fresh clothes. Since you were already pretty deep in, you decide to just wear Christopher’s clothing and hope that he didn’t want it back. It was kind of cute, an obviously worn band t-shirt, and comfortable, yet somehow flattering black joggers. If this were another lifetime, you could see yourself stealing Christopher’s clothes more often.

Alright, you were nearly ready to go. However, when you went to grab your phone to respond to Minji and let her know you were okay, you were foiled by fate and it was dead. “Motherfucker,” you grumble as you grind the heel of your foot into the ground in frustration. Life was not on your side today.

You decide to suck up your pride for a bit, after all, shit was already bad enough, how could it get worse? With a bit of a lazy shuffle in your step, you make your way out to the kitchen, weakly shaking your phone. “Hey,” you squeak out, “I don’t suppose you have a charger, do you?”

“Wow!” Christopher’s eyes light up at seeing you in his old clothes, “You look really cute in that. Yeah, I’ve got a charger in there, come here,” he walks over towards you, grabbing your hand and guiding you towards the far side of the bed in the bedroom. “Here,” he says as he bends down and hands you the end of the cord. “I think this will work? Looks like you’ve got an iPhone too.”

“Thanks,” you say, plugging your phone in. The way that he looks at you so softly warms your heart a bit - it’s been a long time since you felt so cared for, and you felt guilty that you were going to try to dash out of here as soon as possible and leave all this behind. “Of course,” Christopher smiles and kisses your forehead again. “I’m gonna make something for breakfast real quick. It’ll be ready in a bit, so try not to fall asleep again, alright?”

The pit of regret in your stomach grows a bit. “Yeah, sure thing,” you say with fake enthusiasm.

Christopher’s footsteps fade from your ears and you have a moment’s reprieve before you hear a ringtone that isn’t yours. “Oh shit,” you hear him exclaim from the kitchen, “What happened now?”

“Changbin,” his voice turns dark as you hear him answer his phone. “Shit, yeah, no, I got your text messages. Wait,” he sounds slightly panicked, “you’re here? Goddammit, this is that bad, isn’t it?” There’s a lengthy pause. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. Whatever. You know where I am.” You hear his phone hit the countertop as Christopher sighs heavily and shouts, “Fuck!”

‘This is bad,’ you think, unconsciously gripping the sheets beneath you. The silence in the apartment is deafening; you swear you could hear your heartbeat beating out of your chest. Then, suddenly, footsteps come back into the bedroom as Christopher says your name, firmly and seriously, before sitting down next to you on the bed.

“I’m so sorry for this, but,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “someone I work with is coming over and it’s serious. Can you stay in here for a bit? After he’s gone, I’ll order us something for breakfast, something nice. Okay?” As you space off, lazily gazing towards Chris, you notice that he’s staring down at your right hand, gently placing his atop yours and softly wrapping his fingers around your hand. You noncommittally nod your head yes in reassurance, too distracted to really answer.

He’s a kkangpae, the reminder pops up in your head again. You swear that you can hear it in Minji’s voice. You know should get out of here, just bolt up and leave, but you can’t bring yourself to leave quite yet.

A pounding on the front door rips you from your thoughts. As Christopher bolts up to his feet, a chime comes from his phone. He pulls it from his back pocket, glancing at it briefly before relaxing the tense look from his face for a second. “Don’t worry, he’s friendly,” he says, getting up and walking out of the bedroom. “Well, friendly enough, at least. Stay here, I’ll deal with him.”

A moment passes, and you hear some light shuffling.

“You dense motherfucker,” an unfamiliar voice comes from the entryway, immediately followed by the door slamming. “The Chan I remember was never this stupid.”

“Changbin,” Christopher’s interjects, his voice terse.

“You went out after I explicitly told you not to and you brought a complete stranger back to your apartment? You absolute moron.” The voice, you assume belongs to Changbin, sounds more irritated than angry. “Hyunjin was spotted at that party last night. I don’t know who took it, but that photo of you and that woman is making the rounds in the group. Who only knows who all saw that? I thought I told you both to stay away from all of Itaewon-dong this week?”

The name Hyunjin causes your breath to hitch in your throat, piquing your interest. You pull yourself up to your feet, quietly walking towards the bedroom door. Cautiously, you poke your head over the doorframe, glancing into the kitchen. Christopher is standing behind a barstool, his hands ruffling through his hair before he casually tucks them in his pockets. A shorter, lean man with dark brown hair walks on the opposite side of the countertop, nervously pacing back and forth.

“Changbin, look, it was a mistake,” Christopher tiredly pleads, “I admit that I fucked up, yeah, but-”

“You fucked up?” Changbin cuts him off, punctuating his sentence a sarcastic laugh. He turns back to face the fridge and you hear the door opening, the sound of items shuffling echoing through the quiet apartment. “Yeah, you definitely fucked up. I’m drinking some of your beer. Gonna fucking need it. You know,”  he slams the door shut, “you’d better hope you weren’t tailed. If they find out where you live, well, I can’t protect you from that.”

A soft tss comes from what you assume is Changbin opening a can of beer. Christopher catches your eye as he reaches down to the can that Changbin placed in front of him. He looks down, then looks back up, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second, lips parting and his eyes widening in surprise. You quickly hide behind the wall, knowing you shouldn’t have spied on their conversation.

“What?” Changbin’s voice perks up for a second. “Oh my god. She’s still here?” He somehow sounds more annoyed at this and lets out an exasperated groan. “Goddammit, Chan, what happened to you? Oi,” he stresses, footsteps coming closer to the bedroom, “Get out here, this involves you too.”

“What, you thought the high heels were mine?” Chris sarcastically scoffs as you walk out of the bedroom. “Changbin, this is-“

“Yeah, I know.” Changbin cuts Christopher off, throwing his free hand up in frustration, as if he was dismissing Christopher, “trust me, I fucking know.” He grumbles out your full name and adds, “Some model from northern Japan, Korean mom, Japanese dad, right? Graduated from Todai a couple years ago; bachelor’s in economics.” He glares at you as he takes a swig of beer from his can, clicking his tongue in disapproval and muttering something under his breath. “Typical, just your fuckin’ type.”

“W-what?” You stutter out, completely floored that he knows so much about you. “Chris, how does he know all of that?” Panic starts to overtake you and your hands start to tremble.

“Babe,” he whispers, a look of pity painted on his face. Christopher stands up and walks over toward you, but you step back into the wall, waving your hands in a frenzy.

“No, no, no, don’t do that. You don’t get to do that until I know what’s happening.”

Changbin sarcastically chuckles and crushes his can. “Here we go,” he says, digging in the fridge once again. He pulls out two cans of beer and puts one of them on the corner of the counter closest to you. “You’re gonna need one of these, too.”

Your head is spinning, from the window, the skyline of Seoul seems to blur together as you try to make sense of everything that’s happening. If you understood it correctly, Christopher was indeed a drug dealer, just under Changbin in their group’s hierarchy. Hyunjin was also involved, but sold trafficked guns and other weapons in and out of the group.

Christopher went out to that house party in Itaewon last night when Changbin ordered him not to (he stressed that point several times), someone from a rival drug dealing gang saw both him and Hyunjin, snapping photos of them both, as well as a photo of you sitting next to Christopher, his arm around your shoulders, clearly enjoying yourselves.

What made it worse was that someone mistakenly spread a rumour that you and Christopher were an item, that you were a close girlfriend of his, and it put a target on your head so that they could specifically shake up Christopher. Changbin had said that he was unsure exactly how much danger you were in, but it would be best if no one knew where you were. Neither of you were to leave this apartment without someone escorting you.

A nervous laugh came bubbling up from your stomach, erupting into a full-blown, wild cackling fit. There was no way that any of this was real - you were just out with a friend last night, you left with someone else to have a one night stand, and now you were having some sort of crazy fever dream thanks to the drugs you took last night.

“This is crazy,” you say in between laughs, “Christopher, you can’t be serious. This is a joke, right?” You calm yourself, no longer laughing as you look at both Changbin and Christopher, their faces stone cold and free from expression. “Oh my god,” the realization hits you and you sink further into the couch, hoping that it will eat you alive so you don’t have to deal with this mess. “What about Minji? She ran off with Hyunjin last night. Is she okay?”

The men looked at each other with confusion. “I only heard about one woman, and that was you,” Changbin says, leaning back in his chair, throwing his arm over the back of it. “If there was someone with Hyunjin, this is the first time I’m hearing of it. What’s her family name? I’ll have one of my guys keep an eye on her.”

“Moon. Moon Minji. She models with me. Lives in the apartment across from me.” You were somewhat relieved, shaking your head in disbelief. Naturally, you were happy that Minji was safe - for now - but you couldn’t believe this was happening to you.

Changbin stands up, pulling his phone from his back pocket, “Alright. I’m gonna make a call. Don’t go anywhere, either of you.” He starts tapping on his phone and ducks off into a room on the opposite side of the kitchen.

Christopher gets up and sits next to you on the couch. He cautiously reaches his hand out to your thigh. You want to swat his hand away, but you don’t have the energy to do it. “I am so sorry,” he says in a soft tone, his voice sounding like it’ll break at any second, “If I had known, I wouldn’t have brought you here, wouldn’t have risked this.” He sounds genuinely apologetic, but you don’t really register it. He takes his free hand to brush your hair back behind your ear, rubbing his thumb soothingly on your cheek.

Honestly, this conversation had exhausted you. Your life was turned upside down because of this man, this dangerous, but wonderful man. Part of you resented him, but the way he tried to calm you by stroking your face made you less angry at him. For all the shit he put you through, his genuineness did make you forgive him - at least somewhat.

“Chris,” you start to say, looking up at him, before Changbin opens the door and loudly walks back into the room.

“Your friend’s going to be fine. I’ve got one of my best guys following her,” he interjects, walking to the fridge, grabbing another can of beer, “she’s gonna be tracked until we get this shit sorted out. Hyunjin texted me and apologized, for whatever the hell that’s worth. You two are idiots.”

Christopher sighs heavily, furrowing his brows in frustration as he looks up at Changbin. “Oh, yeah? That time we were in Shanghai? Want me to bring that up?” He drops his hand from your face and stands up.

Changbin closes the fridge door and loudly slams his unopened can of beer on the counter. “You bastard, that was entirely-” Christopher cuts him off, advancing towards him.

“Entirely what, different? You easily lost us, what, a hundred million won? Or was it three hundred?” You swivel your head around to see the two of them get in each other’s faces. “And for what, Minho?”

Whatever that meant, it snapped something inside Changbin. “You motherfucker,” he gritted, taking fistfuls of Christopher’s shirt into his hands before shoving him backwards. “I’m gonna fucking kill you. Don’t you dare bring him up like that again.”

A growl came from Christopher as he rolled up his sleeves, “It’s your fault that he got shot and you know it. You’re lucky he didn’t die.”

Changbin managed to take his elbow and ram it into the side of Christopher’s face, causing him to collide with the kitchen cabinet. He wound his arm back and threw a fist towards Christopher’s face, trying to get him one more time. He ducked, running his shoulder into the shorter man’s chest, pushing him back a few steps before he fell to the floor with an audible thud. Christopher towered over Changbin, fists tightly clenched. He knelt down and drew his right arm back, ready to deck the smaller man.

“Fuck you!” Changbin shouted as he flailed underneath Christopher, grabbing a fistful of his shirt with one of his hands, pulling his right arm to the side, winding up another punch.

You started to panic, yelling at them to stop. You did not need this happening on top of everything else. However, your words fell on deaf ears as the guys kept yelling at each other, thrashing around on the floor.

Suddenly, the movement stops, and you hear Changbin pound on Christopher’s chest. “I’m never going to forgive myself,” he chokes out, his voice laden with regret, and it almost sounds like he’s holding back tears. “I can’t even look at him without seeing him lying there, dying. And I know it’s my fault. You don’t have to fucking remind me. Knowing I almost got  Minho killed haunts me. I’d give anything to trade places with him so he didn’t have to experience that pain.”

Christopher sits back on his heels, offering Changbin a hand to sit up. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. That was a low blow, I’m just fucking panicking.” The brunette accepts his hand and sits up, his face red and slightly puffy. His eyes were red and glossy as he rolls them in your general direction.

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to either of you. I know you barely know her, but if she got hurt or killed, I know you’d never forgive yourself either.”

“Thanks,” Christopher says, pulling Changbin to his chest. “I’ll make it up to you somehow. Not by blood, by the code, yeah?” Changbin grunts in agreement, slapping his hand against Christopher’s back.

“Not by blood, by the code.” Changbin repeats back to Christopher, who is offering his hand to help Changbin stand. You could tell there was an exhaustive history between them and you were only scratching the surface of it.

“Alright,” Changbin says, setting a couple of bags down on the coffee table. “I grabbed some jjajangmyeon from that place you like and some more alcohol since I’ve been drinking all of your beer.”

“You didn’t need to do that, we have plenty in fridge in the studio,” Christopher sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, I didn’t say it was for you anyways,” Changbin continues, looking at you, “Minho’s gonna swing by in a bit. I asked him to go out and get you some clothes since you’re gonna be here for a while. I’d have done it myself, but I don’t know shit about clothes. He always goes shopping for the two of us.”

You’ve been sitting on the couch for a few hours now, barely moving. The sun was behind the building now, so you assumed it was probably some time in the early evening. Christopher was nice enough to bring you your phone so you could tell Minji that you were fine, but you were sick so you wouldn’t be around for a while. Thankfully, you didn’t have any gigs planned for about a month and a half, but you knew you’d have to get a hold of your boss eventually.

Christopher was on the couch next to you, an awkward gap apparent between the two of you. Neither of you had spoken much to each other today, conversations mostly happening between Christopher and Changbin. He has, however, kept his hand on top of yours the entire time. Before Changbin returned from his errand run, Christopher apologized to you several times, genuinely upset that he brought an innocent person into this. You were thankful that Changbin returned when he did, because if you had to listen to Christopher apologize one more time, you were ready to lose it.

“Here you go,” Changbin says as he starts emptying a paper bag, placing a couple takeout boxes of jjajangmyeon and side dishes in front of you. “I grabbed some soju and beer for us, think we could use it.”

“Haven’t you had enough beer today?” Christopher sarcastically says, reaching over to grab a pair of chopsticks and a box of food, putting both in your lap before he reaches for his own food.

“Look, man,” Changbin started, bringing a few bottles to the table, “after the day we’ve had, there ain’t enough beer in the world to deal with what’s happened. Might as well have fun for now, yeah?”

You don’t say anything and just reach for the closest bottle of soju, tilting it back and forth a couple times before opening it, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a hearty chug. The aroma of strawberry perfumes your mouth as the alcohol burns all the way down. You didn’t really like strawberry soju, but tonight was gonna be different. You slam the bottle down on the table and smile widely. “Let’s do it.”

Christopher and Changbin are staring at you with their mouths hanging open. This is the most active you’ve been in over an hour, and it had taken them by surprise. “Alright, that’s my gal,” Changbin says with a smirk, grabbing his own bottle of soju and downing an equally long swig. He shakes his head, scrunching up his nose in disgust, and coughs, “Oh shit, that’s a terrible idea. Why the hell did I get flavoured shit?”

You grab a bottle and put it in Christopher’s hands. “Your turn,” you say before turning to open the takeout box in front of you. The warming smell of the black bean sauce brightens your mood a bit, excited to eat one of your favourite meals.  

Christopher’s pensive, although he decides to suck it up as he reaches down to a fresh bottle of soju, shaking it, “Yeah, fine, whatever,” he says, cracking open the bottle and sucking down a couple of hearty gulps. “Fuck, Changbin, blueberry?” He coughs before reorienting himself, “Really? The fuck is wrong with you?”

You stifle back a laugh, taking a bite of your jjajangmyeon. “You’ll be fine, you can do it,” you say, reaching back down to the bottle of strawberry soju in front of you. “This will help make things a bit more bearable, yeah?” You look at Christopher with a toothy smile, hoping he’ll lighten up at least a bit.

There’s a soft knock at the door, and Changbin perks up. “That’s probably Minho.” He stifles a smirk, looking down at his phone as it chirps. He gets up, walking to the door with purpose. It takes a minute, but he eventually opens the door. You casually look over your shoulder, trying not to obviously stare, noticing the small man embrace the dark-haired man that walks in. The man isn’t much taller than Changbin, maybe only a couple of inches taller. Their embrace is soft, warming, like you can tell that they care about each other.

“Hey there,” he says softly, and you catch him plant a soft kiss on Changbin’s cheek. His voice is low and calm, “I grabbed the things you asked me to grab, but are you sure you’re alright?”

“Aish,” you hear Changbin shush him, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me, baby. Come in and hang with us. I got some soju for you.”

The shorter, black-haired man comes up in front of you, “Hi, I’m Lee Minho. Changbin’s probably talked about me by now.” He bows slightly before dropping the bags he has behind the table, taking a seat across from you, opposite from the chair Changbin’s was occupying. The man grabs a bottle of soju off the table, shaking it up and down twice before cracking it open and drinking a quick swig from the bottle.

“Oh, ew,” he groans, a clear wince on his face, “Peach? Binnie, what the hell’s wrong with you?” He whines, looking at Changbin as he grimaces.

“Yeah, yeah,” Changbin waves a hand in the air dismissively as he sits back down, “I know, I wasn’t looking when I grabbed the alcohol, okay? I was a bit distracted. Fuck you guys,” he grumbles, reaching down to his soju bottle. “If you don’t like it, go to CU and get your…. oh.” He stops in his tracks, bottle halfway to his mouth. “Shit, my bad. Want me to go get something different?”

You’re about to dismiss it, but Christopher looks at Changbin, “Yeah, go get something better, especially if Minho’s gonna be here for a while. We’re gonna need it.” He sounds cold, taking a quick drink from his bottle. “We’re gonna need to stay entertained tonight somehow, yeah?” He turns to look at you, reaching out to grab your thigh again, a sly smirk on his face.

You can’t help but blush. You turn down towards your lap, grabbing a large amount of food with your chopsticks and shove it in your mouth. “Mmmpfh,” you manage to grumble out, in a seeming sense of agreement.

All of the guys share a soft chuckle, then Changbin excuses himself with a grumble before walking up to the front door. “I’ll be back in a bit, alright? Don’t go anywhere.” The door closes with a soft thud, and a few moments pass as the three of you sit there quietly.

“So,” Minho smiles, looking at both you and Christopher with purpose, “Changbin told me that you two seem to have taken a liking to each other already.”

You swear you hear Christopher choke on a mouthful of food before looking at you through the corner of his eyes. “Um,” he manages to squeak out, swallowing the food in his mouth, “I suppose you could say that? It’s only been a day, though.”

“Well, I guess you’re going to get to know each other really well here soon.” Minho shrugs his shoulders, grabbing the peach soju he was drinking earlier. “Oh,” he exclaims, beaming with a smile, “when Binnie gets back, we should play a drinking game. That’s a good way to get to know someone, isn’t it?” Admittedly, it did sound fun at the beginning. However, when you were on your third bottle of soju and Changbin and Minho were getting flirty and handsy with each other, you were a bit jealous. You and Christopher were starting to get closer and you were really feeling good, but it would be weird to be that playfully touchy-feely with someone you’ve known for less than 24 hours.

“I have an idea,” Minho turns to look at both of you, “you know what’ll help you even get closer?” He gets up, walks towards the kitchen counter and starts rifling through Changbin’s bag.

“Oi! That’s my stuff!” Changbin proclaims from his seat.

“Relax, babe, not like you don’t go through my stuff,” Minho quips, waving his hand dismissively in the air. “Ah,” he exclaims, “found ‘em.” He comes back to the coffee table and puts a film canister on the table, the container rattling the entire time. Changbin sighs and rolls his eyes, realizing what’s in it.

“Aish,” he groans, “what is with you and this stuff when you drink?”

“Oh, shut up. You still love me, especially after one of these.” Minho says, with a laugh, suggestively looking at Changbin for a moment. He pops the lid of the canister and pours out the contents on to the table. Out comes a few baby blue tablets, similar to the ones you took last night.

A memory of you sitting on Christopher’s face, struggling to stay upright, shouting his name, flashes through your head. Your face gets hot and you look down, visibly flustered. He must have noticed, because Christopher squeezes your thigh, then moves his hand up to your shoulder. “What’s up?” He asks.

“Oh,” you look up at him, then back down to your lap. “The pills just reminded me of something.”

Christopher looks at the table, letting his thoughts register for a moment. It must have hit him, because he sucks in a breath through his teeth and giggles a bit. “Ah, yeah, last night, right?”

“Oh my god,” you groan with frustration and put your head into your hands.

“Hold up,” Minho perks up, a giddy smile on his face, “What happened last night?”

“That’s a bit rude, Min.” Changbin says in a disappointed tone, playfully shoving Minho’s shoulder.

“You both know that I’m nosy. So, what happened last night?”

Christopher rolls his eyes, then sits back on his hands. “We took some ecstasy and had a couple lines last night, so we were rolling pretty hard. We felt pretty good, one thing led to another, you know.” You feel eyes bore into the back of your head, and turn to look at Christopher. He’s got a big grin on his face, clearly happy with himself. “Any time I can make someone shout my name at the top of their lungs is a good time.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groan and drop your forehead to the top of the coffee table, sighing in embarrassment. You sit back up and glare at Christopher, ready to be mad at him, but the way he smiles melts any anger you had towards him.

“Nice,” Minho hums as Changbin nods his head in approval. He grabs the pills on the table, and gives one to everyone. The guys immediately pop theirs into their mouths, and you sit there, pill in hand, just staring at it.

“You alright?” Christopher asks, rubbing a hand on your back. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, baby.” The word ‘baby’ slipped from his lips naturally; he clearly didn’t mean to say it, it just happened. “Uh, um, sorry.”

The next thing you know, the pill is halfway down your throat and you’re finishing up your third bottle of soju. “It’s all good, baby,” you say, jokingly mocking Christopher. You turn to look at him, and give him a wink. He smiles back to you, scooting himself up next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Ugh,” Changbin grumbles, rolling his head back, “you’re already insufferable.”

Christopher picks up a lid from an empty soju bottle and tosses it at the brunette. “Oh, shut up. You and Minho were all over each other just a few minutes ago. Not to mention, you’re going to be even worse once the E kicks in. The last time we were down in Busan and we all were tripping and you started fucking each other in front of me, remember that?”

“You enjoyed watching it, though, quite a bit from what I recall, “Changbin quips, “I very clearly remember you whipping out your dick and taking things into your own hands while we were putting on a show.” Hearing this makes your eyes widen in surprise, spinning your head to the side to look at Christopher, who’s blushing and covering his face with his hand.

Minho starts laughing really hard, and it causes the frown on Changbin’s face to crack into a smile. “Aish, you’re so cute when you laugh.” He leans over and gives the dark-haired man a peck on the cheek. “And I don’t care who knows how I feel about it,” he smirks as he turns to look at Christopher, raising his eyebrow in jest.

“Yeah?” Christopher taunts, slipping his hand down your shoulder to your waist and pulling you closer. “You should hear her when I -“ Before he can finish his sentence, you take your elbow and dig it into his ribs.

“They don’t need to know everything,” you whine.

“Yeah,” Christopher smirks, “They’ll probably get an earful of it tonight, anyways.”

Both of the men across the table groan in feigned disgust. “Anyway,” Minho stresses, trying to change the subject, “Why don’t we bust out a couple beers and play some truth or dare?” Changbin stands up, walking to the fridge. “Sounds like we’ve already opened up quite a bit, yeah?”

“I’m on it, I’ll grab a couple for everyone. Don’t say I don’t do anything nice for you,” he scoffs as he enters the kitchen. Minho starts putting all of the emptied soju bottles, except for one, in a bag. The last bottle, he takes and lays it on its side, putting it in the middle of the table. You look at the bottle, then turn to look up at Christopher.

“Hey,” you whisper in his ear, “was that story actually true?”

Christopher blushes again and stifles a laugh, “Yeah, yeah it was true. Not my proudest moment, but have you looked at them? Anyone would’ve done it, too.”

His honesty makes you laugh a bit, and you lean up next to him, nuzzling your head up against his shoulder. He’s warm, and comfortable, and he rests his head on top of yours, reaching down to grab your hand.  Even if you were stuck here in this near-stranger’s house for longer than you’d like to be stuck, the little moments of comfort like this were helpful.

“Alright,” Changbin chirps up, setting down a couple cans of beer in front of you and Christopher. “Perk up, lovebirds, let’s party.”

“Okay!” Minho excitedly claps his hands together before cracking open his beer. “We’ll spin the bottle, and whomever it lands on gets to choose between telling the truth about something or a dare. If you back out, you’ve gotta take a drink of your beer. Got it?”

The game started off innocent enough, all of you were sticking to truths, and the questions were relatively mild. However, things started to take a turn when the drugs started to kick in. Minho wouldn’t stop touching Changbin, his fingers constantly trailing over the brunette’s chest. When it’s his turn, he spins the bottle, landing on Changbin.

“Dare,” Changbin says, confidently looking directly into Minho’s eyes.

“You’re gonna regret that,” Minho says, smirking as he turns to Christopher. “I dare you to make out with Christopher, if he’s okay with it, of course.”

“What?” Christopher spits out in shock.

“Aish, baby,” Changbin groans, “Why do you get like this every time we roll? You just want to watch me make out with other men and make them miserable.”

Minho grins, leaning over to Changbin to kiss his cheek. “It’s because you’re hot and you know it.”

You can feel a look of complete bewilderment being plastered on your face. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Was this seriously about to happen? Have they done this before?’ Almost as if it was on cue, Christopher turns to look at you.

“Are you okay with it? I know we’re not, like, dating or anything, but,” his voice trails off and he bites his bottom lip in, darting his eyes down to the floor.

“Yeah,” the word slips from your mouth before you have a chance to actually think about it. You were admittedly curious, thinking it would be kind of interesting to watch Christopher be a bit physical with someone else.

Christopher gives you a quick peck on your cheek before he turns to Changbin, “Do your worst.”

Without saying a word, Changbin crawls over towards Christopher, straddling his lap and taking his hands to Christopher’s face. The smaller man presses his lips to the blond’s lips, almost timidly at first, until Christopher takes his hands and grabs Changbin’s hips, pulling him in. “You can do better than that,” he whispers.

“Oh shit,” Minho says, leaning onto the table with a grin. “Binnie hates being teased, Channie.”

Changbin grumbles under his breath, reaching his hands up to Christopher’s hair, pulling his head back as he grinds down into his lap. Christopher lets out a small whimper from the pain and looks up at Changbin with half-lidded eyes. “Don’t talk back to me, hyung,” the brunette warns with a serious tone.

Changbin licks Christopher’s bottom lip before taking it in between his teeth. He bites it somewhat firmly, eliciting a gasp out of the man beneath him, then goes to let his tongue explore his mouth. The men let their hands travel on each other while kissing with a burning passion.

Admittedly, this was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen, all of this was causing you to feel warm and tingly as you watched it. This is what Christopher looked like when the two of you were rolling around in bed last night, and it was hot. You made a mental note to take control of your makeout session and to pull his hair the next time you were able to.

“Oh my god,” Minho groans, “Okay, that’s enough, I can’t watch anymore, it’s too good.” He sits back and takes a drink of beer from his can, dramatically fanning himself with his free hand. Changbin pulls away from Christopher and smirks, and Christopher has a blissed out smile on his face.

“You’re not my type, but I’ll admit you’re good,” Christopher says, wiping his lips with the back side of his hand.

“Yeah, I know,” Changbin says with a laugh as he gets up and walks back to his spot. He sits down, a wide grin on his face, before he takes a hearty drink from his beer. “Minho tells me all the time.”

Christopher turns to you, gets a bit closer, and pulls your face to his, kissing you passionately for a good few seconds. He breaks away from the kiss and moves to your ear. “I want you,” he whispers quietly, so Minho and Changbin can’t hear, “I’m going to make you mine again tonight.”

His words make you blush and smile. He pulls away from you and takes a drink from his beer. “That was something else,” you say, looking at Changbin, then Minho, then Christopher. “You’re all… close?”

Minho laughs, “Nah, we’re not normally like this. When we’ve been partying a little hard, though, things get interesting between us. Nothing more than this, though. I don’t wanna share my Binnie that much, just enough to make him squirm and come crawling back to me.”

Changbin rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Yeah, you’re insufferable when we party hard like this. It’s always, ‘Binnie, make out with me, Binnie, make out with that hot guy over there, Binnie, Binnie, Binnie’ with you.” Minho playfully shoves Changbin’s shoulder and laughs.

“I wouldn’t do it if you didn’t like it, or me, so much,” he says, taking another drink of his beer. “Alright, Channie, it’s your turn.”

“Okay,” Christopher says, reaching out to spin the bottle. It takes a couple rotations, then it slows, and stops, pointing at you.

“Oh,” you say, looking at the bottle, then looking at Christopher. You weren’t feeling brave enough to do a dare, so you say “truth” with an upward inflection, almost like you were asking a question.

“You’re no fun,” Minho pouts. “Make it a good question, Channie.”

“Hmm,” Christopher brings his index finger to his chin, thinking for a moment. “I’ve got it, what’s the most embarrassing sex story you’ve got?”

Your face flushes and you look down to the floor in embarrassment. You begrudgingly admit there was the time a couple years ago with your last boyfriend, Jisung, that you had gotten a bit too eager and a bit too drunk, sneaking off to the nightclub’s washroom. Your boyfriend had propped you up on the sink, one of your legs was up in the air and over his shoulder. Right when you two were in the middle of having the fuck of your lives, some guy had walked in and immediately walked back out, since neither of you had remembered to lock the door. There was a definite walk of shame as both of you immediately got dressed and left as soon as possible.

Christopher busts up laughing, because apparently he’s walked in on something similar to that before. “I mean, it’s kinda hot to see something like that in public, but if it happened to me, I’d be mortified. I’d never show my face in public again.”

Changbin looks at Minho and grins, “Yeah, sounds like that one time I came back from Taiwan and you were too excited to see me that you couldn’t wait until we got home and demanded that I take you in the airport parking lot.”

Minho laughs in response, playfully slapping Changbin’s shoulder, then moving to spin the soju bottle. “You had a good time, so you don’t get to complain.” The bottle spins, eventually landing on Christopher. “What’s it gonna be, Mr. Voyeur?”

“Get bent,” Christopher scoffs, “let’s do a dare this time.”

“Ooh, fun,” Minho says. He opens his mouth to speak, but Changbin leans over to whisper something in his ear, slyly looking at you as he whispers. “Oh, good idea,” Minho chirps, grinning deviously at the both of you. “Go into the studio and record the vocals of you both having sex, then play it back for us when you’re done.”

“What?” You yell out in surprise, your face turning beet red.

“Challenge accepted,” Christopher says cooly, grabbing your hand and pulling you up before you can wrap your head around it.

“Wait, I don’t get to say anything about this?” You shriek out, slightly panicked, as you stand up and follow Christopher.

“C’mon, baby,” he says soothingly, “I’ve got you.” He stops in front of the door that Changbin was in earlier, opening it and turning the lights on. He guides you through the door, closing the door behind you. “Just sit in that chair right there,” he points to the chair in front of the control panel. “I’m gonna get some stuff set up behind the mic and then we can get started, okay?”

If you hadn’t taken the ecstasy tablet earlier and had a few drinks, you definitely would’ve said no to being recorded, but you figured it would be funny to see the reaction on Minho and Changbin’s faces when they heard both of you. Something about it really got you excited. Christopher adjusted some things in the recording booth, then came back out to the control panel, opening his laptop and flipping some switches on.

“Okay,” he says as he turns back to you, reaching his hands out to yours. “Let’s go.”

You let Christopher pull you up and lead you into the recording booth. Your stomach was doing backflips as you entered the room, taking in the atmosphere. It was calm and relaxing; the spotlights were dim and it made everything seem comforting. The foam padded on the walls absorbed most of the ambient noise, making everything seem abnormally quiet.

Christopher sat down on the padded chair and pulled you into his lap. You crawled on top of him, straddling his hips. The positioning was probably going to be uncomfortable, but you didn’t mind. He takes his hands and slides them up your shirt, pulling you closer to him. “Let’s give them a show, baby,” he says in a low whisper before he brings his lips to yours, kissing you with an intense need.

You decided to not waste any time, reaching down to pull the shirt you were wearing off, tossing it behind Christopher. Your bra follows in succession, and the man beneath you sighs as he stares at you, slowly looking you up from your torso to your eyes, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He kisses you again, this time in short pecks, before he moves his fingers to grab the waistband of your pants. You get up on to your feet, helping him pull your joggers and panties off, then go to undo his jeans, slipping them along with his boxers down to his ankles.

Christopher sucks in a breath as his cock springs up, free from his clothing. “I’ve been sitting out there so hard since Changbin wrecked me. I can’t wait to have you ride me, baby.” He looks down at you, his eyes completely glazed over as he bites his lip.

“I’m gonna make you feel amazing,” you say in a breathy voice, kneeling down in front of Christopher, your face right up next to his cock. He looks at you, eyes widening, about to say something, but you take him into your mouth before he can say anything. You slowly work him completely into your mouth, and he lets out a primal groan as he throws his head back, gripping the sides of his chair with a vise grip.

“Fucking hell,” he moans out, “that’s incredible, baby, don’t stop.”

You come back up, sucking your cheeks in and letting his cock leave your mouth with an audible pop. “I want to feel you, too. I’m just getting you prepped.” you whisper in a sultry voice as you crawl back over him. Christopher looks up at you with a pleading face, upset that you stopped giving him head. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you all the attention you need later. I want you right now.” As you say that, you reach down and guide him inside of you.

Christopher grabs your hips, helping get himself into you. As you slide down onto him, there’s a warmth that spreads throughout you, making you feel like your nerves are on overdrive. A breathy, shaky moan unintentionally escapes your lips. You open your eyes and look down at Christopher; the blissed out look on his face is something you could drink in for days. He looked like only wanted you, that you two were meant to be together, at least for now.

He breathes out your name as you slowly grind your hips down into his, then take them up, almost removing yourself from him completely. You bite your lip, smiling at Christopher, before you thrust yourself right back down on him.

“Fuck,” he groans, digging his fingernails into your hips as his chin falls to his chest. “Baby, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says as he looks back up at you, taking one of his hands to the back of your head, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. It’s passionate and messy and you can’t get enough of it; the way his tongue rolls around in your mouth as you ride him up and down causes your nerves to tingle from head to toe.

Just when you think you have enough stimulation to start building you up to your orgasm, Christopher removes his hand from your head, interrupts your kiss to lick his thumb, and he starts rubbing it up against your clit. Your eyes snap open and roll backwards as you groan into his mouth, your entire body starting to feel like a supernova with all of the stimulation.

“I’m gonna make sure you come with me,” he breathes out, continuing to roll his thumb in circles against you. “You’re mine and only mine. Fuck,” he moans as you grind up on him, “Tell me who you belong to.”

Your mind is reeling from all of the stimulation, the ecstasy and the alcohol causing everything to feel magnified, like you would never feel something so good in your entire life again. “You, Christopher, you,” you breathe out, panting heavily, “I belong to you.”

“Yeah,” he groans, taking control and thrusting in and out of you faster, “You’re mine. Now come for me, baby.”

Something about the way he demanded you to come made all the tension inside of you release, caused all of your nerves to sing in harmony for a moment. Christopher did one more rotation of his thumb against your clit, and that was it, it was enough. Your orgasm completely took control of your body, making you arch your back and writhe against him. You shouted his name so loud, you were sure that Changbin and Minho could hear it through all of the soundproofing in the studio.

“Good girl,” Christopher praises, breathing heavily, “I’m gonna come inside you, baby, I want you to take it all for me.” His voice seems like it’s across the room, like you’re so far away from him that it’s difficult to hear. Everything, even the air, feels soft against you. You manage to mumble out something, although you’re not quite sure what it was, as you collapse into Christopher. His breathing speeds up as he digs his fingernails into your back as he grinds up into you one last time, and you feel his cum fill you up.

It takes a few minutes for both of you to come back to reality. When you do, you notice how sore and sticky you both are, like you could use a shower right now. You nuzzle up to Christopher’s neck, giving it a few light kisses before you sit up and look at him. “Wow,” you say, “that was mind-blowing.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, looking at you with a silly grin on his face, “that was somehow better than last night. But I definitely need a shower. Who would’ve thought that this studio got so hot?” Both of you laugh in agreement, and peel yourselves off of each other. You both get dressed and walk out into the control room; Christopher fumbles with his laptop and turns off some of the switches on the panelling.

“Shall we?” He says, walking up to the door. “We can make them listen to it in here.” He opens the door for you, and you both see Minho kneeling on the floor in front of Changbin, his head bobbing up and down in a familiar motion.

“Shit! Minho, stop!” Changbin exclaims with a whine, trying to get Minho off of him. They fumble around a bit as you turn around in secondhand embarrassment.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Christopher groans, “Really? You couldn’t wait until we went to bed?”

“You two are loud,” Minho whines in protest, “And with you and Binnie earlier I couldn’t help it!”

“Oh my god,” you groan, bringing your hands to rub your temples.

“Well, the recording’s saved to my laptop, so we fulfilled the dare,” Christopher says before grabbing your hand and walking you both towards his room, “We’re gonna shower and go to bed. Have fun, lovebirds.”

“Fuck off,” you hear Changbin groan as you both walk into Christopher’s bedroom.

“Well, that was,” your voice trails off, still in disbelief from what you had seen, “unexpected?”

Christopher groans again, removing his clothes, “Nah, they do this all the time. If it’s just the three of us and we’ve been drinking or taking drugs, Minho can’t control himself around Changbin. It doesn’t bother me, but I’m sorry you had to witness it firsthand. C’mon, let’s go shower.” He wiggles his fingers in a come-hither motion before he slips off into the washroom.

“It’s fine,” you say, disrobing as you make your way to the washroom. Christopher is already in the walk-in shower, setting the temperature to something tolerable. “It was unexpected, but it didn’t bother me. They obviously care about each other and I respect that.”

Christopher laughs, motioning for you to get in. “Yeah, they’re really good for each other.” You step in the shower behind him, enjoying the warm water as it splashes on your skin. “Changbin was an absolute asshole before he met Minho, though. You might think he’s abrasive now, but he was completely cold and closed off back then.”

You stick your head under the shower head, wetting your hair down, then turn to look up at Christopher. “I’ve known Changbin since we were in middle school. He was always quiet and nobody really wanted to be friends with him because he was so standoffish. Always rubbed people the wrong way.

“We didn’t mean to become kkangpae, it was just a matter of survival. Producing music got us nowhere financially, but one of the connections we had said we could make enough money to live if we just sold some stuff now and then. Turns out, we were really good at it. But the bigger you grow, the harder you fall.” Christopher sighs, sticking his head under the water for a minute before he leans up against the wall.

“A couple years ago, we were in Shanghai. Changbin and I were ordered to secure this big deal with the Triad, worth a couple hundred million won. It was a big fucking deal, and incredibly dangerous. Shit went south really fast. One of the new guys, Minho, was ordered to come with us to learn the ropes. He wasn’t supposed to come with us when we met with the Triad’s higher ups, but Changbin was angry that shit wasn’t going right and he ordered Minho to come with as a ‘learning experience’.”

You listened attentively with bated breath, watching the water bounce off of Christopher’s skin as you focused on his story. Based on what you heard earlier between the argument between Christopher and Changbin, you knew this wasn’t going to go well.

“It was horrible,” Christopher sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “The Triads were pulling out of the deal and Changbin got pissed. I’d never seen him so angry in my life. We were working on leaving, trying to get away before things got violent, but one of the guys on their side was trigger happy - must’ve been new too. He pulled out a pistol and aimed it directly at Changbin. Fucking Minho…”

Christopher sucked in some air through his gritted teeth, and you could tell that reliving this experience was painful for him. He was biting back tears and his eyes were turning red. “Minho pushed him out of the way, which is what you’re supposed to be willing to do for your superior, but he got shot in the lung and in the leg because of it. Changbin was furious, he wasn’t gonna let them kill one of his men. He had his gun in his hand, ready to shoot at them, before I intervened, somehow getting us out of there. Honestly, I don’t know how we made it out of there alive. Minho was in the hospital in Shanghai for a couple of months, then was sent to a rehabilitation facility here in Seoul when he was stable enough to travel.”

Christopher looks over at you, seeing the look of concern on your face. “He’s fine now, but he doesn’t work in the field anymore. Changbin helped nurse him back to health once he was back home in Seoul, visiting him at the rehabilitation centre every day for three months straight. I think there was something going on between them before Shanghai, but after they spent all of that time with each other, they really fell hard. They’ve been living together ever since. Changbin doesn’t want Minho out of his sight, understandably.”

“Holy shit,” you say, shaking your head, “that’s horrible. I never would have guessed.”

“Yeah,” Christopher says, standing back upright and wiping under his eyes, “this life isn’t for the weak-willed. A couple of brothers have died just in the past two years. Most of us have gotten shot or stabbed or had the shit beaten out of us. We’ve got enough money to bribe the cops to stay off our backs, but it’s exhausting to never have the comfort of security. I’m so sorry to have brought you into this. I never wanted to drag another civilian into this.”

You reach up to his face, stroking his cheek with your thumbs. “It’s alright, Christopher. We couldn’t have predicted this. Now, we just need to get through it one day at a time.”

He looks up to you and smiles weakly. “Well, in that case, I hope I can make you happy during the time we’re stuck here. I’m here for you.”

“I’m here for you, too. How about we finish up showering and go to bed? It’s gotta be late.”

“That sounds like a plan,” he says, leaning down to give you a short, soft kiss.

You wake up in Christopher’s bed, wearing an oversized, well worn t-shirt of his. The voices of Changbin and Christopher float in from under the closed door, but you can’t really make out exactly what they’re saying. After a minute of slowly waking up, you slip on the pair of joggers Christopher loaned to you yesterday and head out to the kitchen.

“Morning,” you groggily say as you make your way to the countertop.

“Oh, morning. Did we wake you?” Christopher says in a hushed voice, standing between the island counter and the refrigerator. Changbin is sitting on a barstool on the opposite side for Christopher. You look around for Minho and see that he’s still passed out on the couch, softly snoring away.

“No, no, I needed to get up.”

“Ah, alright. I’ve got some stuff in the fridge. Changbin was nice enough to grab some groceries and prepped food for us, so I’ll make something nice for lunch in a bit. There’s some mugs up here and I have coffee pods for the maker right here,” he pulls open a drawer and there’s an array of various different types of coffee, which is just what you needed.

The idea of a home-cooked meal sounded really nice. You wondered if Christopher was a good cook or not; judging by the fact that his fridge was pretty empty yesterday, you assume that he’s probably too busy to cook, and likely eats a lot of takeout, you weren’t confident that he was good at cooking.

You fumble a coffee pod into the maker and grab a mug from one of the cupboards. Christopher gives you a soft peck on the top of your head and turns back to Changbin.

“Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal,” Changbin continues their conversation, taking a swig of coffee from his cup. “After your call with Xiaojian the night before last, Han reached out to me and said he’d come here later today to take care of the deal you’d been working on. He just got back from Beijing last night.”

Han. Hearing that family name made you do a quick double take. It had been a year since you and Han Jisung had split, coming to a mutual agreement that your relationship wasn’t going anywhere. You were busy travelling thanks to your career, and he had just taken up a big job that he didn’t like to talk about. The way he acted over it, you assumed he was probably having an affair and just used his new job as a cover.

The coffee maker made a gentle ting noise as it finished brewing your cup. You take the mug and immediately bring it up to your lips, grateful for the warm beverage to help wake you up.

“Han?” Christopher questions, shifting his weight on to one foot. “You really trusted Han Jisung with that?”

Holy shit. You spit out your coffee as soon as it touches your lips and haphazardly slam the mug on to the counter. “I’m sorry,” you exclaim, “Did you say Han Jisung?” There was absolutely no way that they were talking about your ex-boyfriend. No way. He had a relatively common name, but hearing it still shocked you.

Changbin and Christopher turn to look at you, surprised by your question. “Yeah, Christopher says, an alarmed tone to his voice, “You probably don’t know him, though. He’s quiet, introverted, and doesn’t get attached to people.”

Oh shit.

“The Jisung I knew was introverted but he would bleach his hair every month or so; he likes to stick out a bit from everyone else. Looks cute when he eats because his cheeks puff up like a squirrel. He also produces music and he’s about your height.” You ramble off random facts you remembered about him, but the more you divulged, the wider Changbin’s eyes got.

“Fucking squirrel,” Changbin sighs. “How do you know him?”

Your heart sinks into your stomach as you look at Changbin, the look on his face making you uneasy. “We dated for a few years before he left me for a new job. I thought he was just saying that because he was having an affair and felt guilty, though.”

“Shit,” Changbin sighs, and lets his head fall into his hands. “He said he had broken up with his girlfriend when he joined up with us. She was a model, too.”

Christopher looks mortified. “What?” He shakes his head and looks at you, wide-eyed and taken aback. “You dated Han?”

Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse this week, it seems like your expectations had been lowered yet again.

[magniloquent-raven]

43, and 83?

ty for the prompts!! 

posted on ao3

i’m taking commissions for HfBLM now y’all, if you like this fic and have $5 to spare pls consider donating & hitting me up with a prompt. my info is here

--

Steve is pretending to watch TV when the phone rings. He’s not even sure what show he threw on, just couldn’t stand the quiet any longer. His weekends used to be a lot more eventful. Lively. There was a time when he’d have had something to fill the silence, but now...

He graduated high school eight days ago. The only thing he has to look forward to now is Dustin getting back from camp in a couple weeks, and in the meantime, he’s working at the mall. Scooping ice-cream in the dumbest hat on the fucking planet.

And he got another lecture on responsibility yesterday. His father’s idea of a graduation present, apparently.

Life isn’t great right now.

So, when the phone interrupts his pity party, he assumes the worst. Which, given Hawkins’ track-record, is pretty bad. Apocalyptic bad.

Or it could just be his dad, tipsy in a hotel room in Indianapolis and thinking up new reasons why Steve is a disappointment.

He’s not sure which one he hopes it is.

“Harrington, residence,” he says when he picks up, in case it is his father.

The silence from the other end stretches long enough that Steve almost hangs up, then, “Heey,” a voice slurs. A familiar voice. “That you, Stevie?”

“Hargrove?”

“Ugh,” a staticky scoff crackles through the line, “Don’t call me that.”

“Are you drunk?” He ignores the way Billy rankles at his own last name. Doesn’t have time to unpack Billy Hargrove’s many issues, and honestly, the fact that the guy is calling him out of the blue drunk off his ass is the more pressing issue. “And how did you get my phone number?”

“Phonebook, genius.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. Ignores the weird little thrill he gets at the idea of Billy going through the trouble of looking up his number. “What the hell, man.”

He should hang up. Billy can’t possibly have any good reason to be calling, and engaging with…whatever this is, probably won’t end well for Steve. However, Steve is very bored. And Hargrove is at the very least…entertaining. In his way. 

If Steve were a little more honest with himself, he might use other adjectives, but he’s not thinking about that.

“Steeevie…” Billy sing-songs through the phone, “Pretty boy, what’re you doing right now?”

“Regretting answering the phone.”

Billy cackles, “No, really.”

“I’m really regretting answering the phone.”

“C’mooon.”

See, the thing is… Billy’s...whatever his deal is, fixation or whatever, really doesn’t bother Steve as much as it should. 

Sometimes it’s shitty, yeah. On his bad days, when Billy says exactly the wrong thing, just to get a rise out of him. But it’s also…not all terrible. Maybe Steve’s ten kinds of fucked up for thinking it, but it’s flattering. Because it isn’t just crass comments and getting overly physical during basketball practice, it’s calling Steve pretty, and glancing over after he does a trick shot, like he wants to make sure Steve saw him. And heavy, unflinching eye-contact that makes Steve hot all over.

So, maybe Steve’s got a bit of a…problem. And maybe he’s thinking about it a little.

About Billy being the only person over the age of fourteen who regularly pays attention to him, and why that even matters. And how much he didn’t mean it when he said he regretted picking up at all.

It’s a rabbit hole he’s kind of terrified to go down, but his brain keeps trying to push him in anyway.

“Steeeevve.”

He sighs. “What do you want, Billy?”

Billy’s quiet for a beat, like he’s actually thinking about it, then hums, low and amused, and says, “More than you could handle, baby.”

Steve chokes on his tongue. Falls down the rabbit hole.

Because what’s that supposed to mean?

“Are you—” Steve stutters, stops, heart racing. Billy’s messing with him. That’s what he does. It doesn't mean anything. Steve kind of hates how much he wants it to mean something. Wants Billy here crooning baby in his ear without the phone between them. “What if your parents are listening in, you can’t just say shit like that.” 

Oh the irony. After all the times girls have said almost that exact thing to him, here he is... The implications thrill him a little.

But then there’s a bark of laughter, bitter and humourless. “You worried about me?” Steve frowns at the sudden shift in Billy’s tone. “M’not at home right now, princess, don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

 “Where are you then?” It slips out before he can think better of it. It’s none of his business where Billy is, and Billy doesn’t take well to people nosing around in his life. Not that it’s an especially personal question. Still, he’s seen Billy bite people’s heads off for less. 

But all he says is, “Dunno.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Steve squawks. Billy is somewhere, drunk and probably alone, in Hawkins. Monster infested, suspicious death capital of Indiana, motherfucking Hawkins. And either he’s so drunk he’s got no sense of direction, or he just hasn’t been here long enough to know his ass from Melvald’s General. Or some horrible combo of the two. None of those options are good. 

“Just…describe what you see.” The line is silent for a while. Steve grips the phone harder. “Billy,” he snaps, not caring that he’s letting his anxiety bleed into his voice.

“Jesus, alright,” Billy mutters, “Trees. More fuckin’ trees. Y’know, this town really is a shithole. Nothin’ around but mud and—”

“Focus, asshole.”

“So bossy. There’s some big-ass chain-link fence. Seems weird, ‘cause it’s the middle of nowh—"

“Oh god, you’re out by Mirkwood,” Steve realizes, horrified.

“…I’ll be sure to watch out for elves then.” He can almost hear Billy’s eyeroll.

“Would you stop being—wait, you understood the reference?” Steve blinks. Processes. Tries not to find it too endearing that Billy Hargrove is, underneath the leather and hairspray, a nerd, apparently. 

Now is really not the time. So he files the information away for later. He’s not sure what he’s gonna do with it later, but it feels important for some reason. 

“Never mind, just—Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” Mirkwood isn’t far, it would only take him a couple minutes to drive there. And Steve knows exactly where the payphone on that street is, which helps.

Steve half-expects a fight. Expects Billy to protest, claim he doesn’t need help or whatever, but what he gets is a quiet, “I…okay.”

“I’ll be right there,” Steve says firmly. He’s not sure Billy needs the reassurance, but he gives it anyway.

He’s shaking a little, he realizes, as he pulls on his jacket and grabs his keys. It’s ridiculous, probably, to be so freaked out, and he chides himself internally for being so easily spooked. The gate is closed, the lab is shut down, there should be nothing in those woods scarier than Billy himself. But shouldn’t be didn’t stop Will Byers from getting taken in the first place. None of that shit should have been, but it happened anyway. Billy may be more formidable than some shrimpy twelve-year-old but he’s also drunk, and has no idea what could be out there.

Steve pushes the speed limit a little.

~~

Billy is sitting in the dirt on the side of the road, knees pulled to his chest, back against the payphone booth. The dirty fluorescent behind him lights up his honey-coloured curls like the world's saddest halo.

The knot of anxiety in Steve’s chest loosens a little.

He puts the Beemer in park. Now that he knows Billy’s okay, he realizes he didn’t really think this all the way through. Because…what now?

Billy hasn’t moved, so Steve goes to him, approaches cautiously, with his hands in his pockets to stop him from fidgeting too much. “Billy?”

“Hey.” The greeting is subdued.

“You okay, man?”

He sniffs, doesn’t look at Steve. Rubs the back of his hand under his nose. “No.” There’s something clutched in his other hand, Steve realizes, but he can’t make out what it is because Billy is curled around it, blocking the light.

“Do…you want to, uh, talk about it?” Steve cringes his way through the question. He’s really, really out of his depth here, not a goddamn buoy in sight.

There’s no response. The silence stretches on for an awkward moment before Billy pushes himself to his feet, swaying a little. Steve’s almost afraid he’s going to fall over but he just shuffles forward, uncharacteristically hesitant, and extends a hand towards Steve when he gets close enough.

With a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his fist.

Only half of them have bloomed, their little purple petals unfurled. The stems look a little prickly, dotted with green buds and jagged leaves, and half-crushed in Billy’s hand, the green turned dark and pulpy in spots.

Steve is pretty sure if his heart tried to beat any faster it would actually explode. He’s genuinely at a loss for words, left gaping at Billy trying not to wheeze like he’s just run a marathon.

“Picked these for you,” Billy mutters. He’s staring at a patch of dirt near Steve’s shoe with the intensity of someone trying very hard not to look at anything else.

There’s air escaping Steve’s lungs, but he can’t seem to make it into sound. He stares, unmoving, for long enough that Billy starts fidgeting, lowering his hand. The motion spurs Steve to action, heart in his mouth he reaches out and grabs Billy’s wrist. Billy stills under his fingers, and Steve slides his palm down the back of his hand. He’s warm. Knuckles scarred and rough.

“…Why?” Steve’s voice is reverently quiet. He’s almost afraid to scare Billy off, say the wrong thing and make him retreat behind the walls he’s always hiding behind.

Billy shrugs. Then finally looks Steve in the eye. He’s cautious, tension in his shoulders, but there’s a vulnerability in his expression that Steve’s never seen before. It’s breathtaking. Literally. Steve stops breathing for a second. 

“Why’re you here?” Billy asks. Demands. There’s no edge to it, just a quiet desperation that breaks Steve’s heart. He wonders why Billy is here. What brought him to the edge of town, drunk and alone.

“I…” His fingers tighten around Billy’s hand. Lies destroyed him and Nancy. All the things she kept from him that tore her up inside, all the times he wanted to pretend everything was okay. Lies are making his parents miserable. Always acting like their marriage isn’t hanging by a thread and a shared bank account. He and Billy don’t have a relationship to destroy, but—“I was worried about you.”

The words terrify him now that they’re out there. Saying he and Billy don’t have a relationship is an understatement. They’re barely even civil on a good day. Billy’s probably just bored out of his mind in small-town Indiana and fucking with Steve is as good an outlet as any, and Steve’s the dumb motherfucker who went and caught feelings for someone just for paying attention to him, oh god—

Steve pulls his hand away, cheeks burning, while the world starts shrinking around him, narrowing down to him and his sweaty palms. He’s had panic attacks before, but if he has one now he might actually fucking die.

“My dad took my keys,” Billy says, cutting through Steve’s internal tirade.

He blinks. “What?”

Billy’s fidgeting again. “Turned eighteen a couple months ago. Told myself I was gonna wait ‘til graduation. Finish school, y’know? Been saving up, and fuckin’ dreaming about this for years, but then…” He stops, grits his teeth. Steve waits for him to continue with bated breath.

“I was gonna get out. Didn’t want anything holding me back. But then my dad took my fucking keys and I—I wasn’t even mad that he stopped me,” Billy’s voice breaks, catches in his throat, “I wanted someone to stop me. Didn’t want it to be him, but it was never gonna be you. Because you. You don’t—” he stutters to a halt and squeezes his eyes shut.

And…that’s a lot to process. It’s a lot. But Steve had some practice taking things in stride, so he focuses on what’s important for now.

“Hey,” he says softly, and touches his fingertips to the inside of Billy’s wrist. Billy jolts, his eyes open and he looks at Steve warily, but he doesn’t pull away. “Can I take you home?”

Poor word choice. Billy recoils, curls in on himself.

“My house! I meant to my house,” Steve amends. The way Billy instantly relaxes worries Steve. This whole situation worries Steve. “There’s, uh, no one else there, so. I mean, oh-- I just want to get you sobered up, and—and once you’re—I’m just gonna stop talking. Let’s. Let’s just go.”

He turns and heads to the car so he doesn’t embarrass himself any more.

The drive back to Loch Nora is quiet, the radio plays something soft that Steve can barely hear and neither of them speak. The silence gets deafening when he cuts the engine. 

Billy Hargrove sitting in his parents’ pristine kitchen, jean jacket askew, earring flashing in the low light, while Steve makes him a cup of coffee, is…surreal. Made strange by just how mundane it is. How domestic. 

And keeping his hands busy doesn’t stop his mind from wandering. Or doing fucking wind sprints. So many new places to go, so little time.

Billy is sitting on the island in the middle of the room, watching. And it feels like the little pile of mangled flowers next to him is staring too.

“So, uh, you can sleep here. If you want. There’s a spare room,” Steve says as he hands a mug over. Their fingers brush and he tries not to fixate on it. Or think about where else Billy could sleep. 

No, fuck it, he’s thinking about it. Billy in his bed. Billy’s hands on him. How he looked after basketball practice, sweaty and shirtless, muscles taut, blue eyes burning through Steve. The showers afterwards. Wanting to know what Billy tastes like. 

The thoughts aren’t new, but letting them play out is. It’s equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

“What are you doing, Harrington?” Billy asks quietly.

Steve blinks. Thinking about you naked, doesn’t seem like an appropriate answer so he flounders, mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of anything other than tanned skin and golden curls. “...Nothing?” 

Smooth. Real smooth. 

He mentally kicks himself. Closes his eyes briefly and tries to get his shit together.

Billy’s got a thumbnail between his teeth, his gaze fixed on Steve, intent. There’s a question in his eyes. Uncertainty in his posture. “I mean...why are you--” He stops, lets out a frustrated sigh, and puts his coffee down. “What do you get out of this? I--I picked flowers for you, man. Half expected you to try and kick my ass again but now you’re, what, being charitable, or something?” 

Steve makes several big decisions in a short amount of time. He takes a step forward, inches away from standing between Billy’s knees. “I like it when you’re nice to me. When you look at me like I matter. I’m not being charitable, I’m just…” 

Making a fool of myself, probably.

But Billy’s got that vulnerable look again, mouth soft and eyes wide. He’s beautiful like this. He’s always been annoyingly gorgeous, all stormy eyes and sharp teeth, alluring like only a dangerous thing can be, but this… looking at him like this makes Steve ache.

“When have I ever been nice to you?” Billy half-laughs, it’s weak and watery. 

Steve grins, watches Billy track the motion. “You have your moments.” He steps forward again. It’d be so easy to put his hands on Billy’s thighs from here, standing between them. He wants to. So badly his fingers twitch. 

“...Steve?”

He inhales, slow, steadying. And exhales. Waiting isn’t going to make this any easier to say, but he can’t help taking a moment to collect himself. To panic. And think of all the ways it could go wrong. 

“Can I touch you?”

A sharp intake of breath is the only response he gets at first. Billy’s eyes go wide, and Steve can practically see the gears turning in his head. The whiskey haze seems to have mostly faded by now, his guard goes up faster than it would have otherwise. 

So, Steve waits. 

Slowly, hesitantly, Billy nods. 

He gives Billy the opportunity to change his mind, to pull away, moves carefully and deliberate so it’s clear what he’s doing. 

Before he even makes contact Billy’s eyes darken, and his hands shoot up to grab ahold of Steve’s wrists, but instead of pushing him off he tugs Steve closer. Suddenly they’re pressed together, Billy’s legs around his waist, clutching Steve’s hands to his chest.

“If you’re gonna do it, then do it, Harrington,” Billy growls, and Steve feels it as much as he hears it.

Which is...definitely something Steve didn’t know he would be into, yet there’s an undeniable flash of heat in his belly and he suppresses a shiver. He curls his fingers into the soft material of Billy’s shirt, feels the hard muscle beneath. 

Billy closes his eyes, and lets out a shaky breath.

They stay like that for a few seconds. Billy’s grip on Steve’s wrists slackens, but stays, thumbs tracing circles in Steve’s skin while he feels Billy’s heartbeat beneath his hands. His pulse is racing.

Steve leans forward, buries his face in the crook of Billy’s neck. He’s trapped their hands between them, put his elbows at a slightly awkward angle, but doesn’t care enough to move, not when he’s breathing in Billy’s scent. The faint chlorine smell clinging to the golden curls tickling his forehead, cologne and cigarette smoke on his clothes, and under it all something indescribably Billy, sharp and musky, oddly comforting.

“I like you,” Steve murmurs. It’s easier to talk like this. When he doesn’t have to make eye-contact. He can just talk, without worrying about anything else. What to do with his hands, where to look, what his face is doing while he speaks. What Billy might be thinking. “The flowers were nice. No one’s ever done something like that for me. And if I’d known you wanted me to stop you from leaving, I would have. I would’ve.” 

Billy wriggles his hands out from between them, and puts a hand on Steve’s cheek to guide his face upwards, until he’s looking into Billy’s eyes. His gaze is searching, roaming Steve’s face looking for answers. “I don’t know what I did to make you think that you…” he pauses, furrows his brow. “I wanted you the second I saw you, but… I don’t deserve you.”

He doesn’t let go though. Leaves his hand where it is, his thighs still warming Steve’s sides. 

Steve shrugs. “But you have me.”

It’s unclear which of them leans in first. Steve’s not too concerned with the technicalities anyways, not when he’s got Billy’s tongue in his mouth. He kisses like a man starved. No holding back, no hesitation. Steve is overwhelmed in the best way possible, weak in the knees and holding on for dear life. 

When they finally come up for air Steve’s fingers are tangled in Billy’s hair (he’s not sure when that happened), and he’s half-hard in his jeans. Billy is too, he can feel it pressed against his stomach. 

It takes a lot of self-control to keep from grinding against him, finding out what Billy looks like when he comes, what kind of noises he can coax out of him.

Because as much as he wants all of that, and more, he’s still barely comfortable admitting that. He’s scared of what all this means. Of the fact that he made some pretty big declarations and meant every word of it. Now it’s out there, and he doesn’t know where to go from here.

However, what comes out of his mouth is a breathless, “Come to bed with me?” and it takes his brain a second to realize exactly how that sounded. When he does, he panics. Pulls back as far as he can without actually stepping out of Billy’s embrace. “I mean-- shit-- I meant that but, not-- not like that-- I--”

Billy silences Steve by putting a finger to his lips. There’s an amused glint in his eye, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I got you, pretty boy. No worries.”

Getting ready for bed together is...an experience. Steve tripping over himself trying to act normal and Billy completely unable to keep a straight face. Steve’s pretty sure he’s never seen Billy smile this much. It’s got him feeling weirdly proud of himself. Giddy, like a kid passing notes to his crush, with a heart full of bubbles and his stomach in knots. 

Actually laying in bed, side by side, is incredibly awkward for a long few seconds, before Steve rolls over and throws an arm across Billy’s chest. He shuffles closer, letting Billy tuck his arm under him, around his waist. 

He doesn’t want to sleep. Not yet. So, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “You’ve read The Hobbit?”

Billy laughs, startled. “I mean...yeah. Why?”

Steve grins against Billy’s shoulder. “No reason. Tell me what else you’ve read.”

They lay like that for a while, talking quietly until they’re too tired to keep their eyes open. Steve drifts off first, listening to Billy talk, content in a way he hasn’t been in a long time.

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Surprises (8)

Here is 8! yes I was slow again, May has thrown me a bunch of curveballs but I’m hoping to be a bit quicker:)

My beautiful beta is @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares, I love you.

Warnings: There will be swearing, mature themes, mentions of alcohol at times, and mentions of sex. I will update warnings as I go if needed.

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Ask Box

Chapter 8

—————

Azriel couldn’t remember the last time that he was this happy. It had only been almost a week since he and Elain had kissed, and he couldn’t help but smile whenever he thought of it. The way that she held him gently as they did so, the little noises that she’d made when he’d deepened the kiss, and the way she had smiled into it whenever he let a groan slip. It just all felt so real. Kissing girls was never like that; people always said there was some spark or some other mushy feeling, but he’d never experienced it. Not until she walked into his life. They had called every night since, he’d ask about her day, how she was feeling, what she would be doing the next day, and then he’d tell her that he couldn’t wait until they got time alone together again.

She’d wriggled her way under his skin and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

They were all currently sat at a table in the cafeteria. Elain was sat opposite him with Nesta, Cass and Lucien, while he was sat wedged between Feyre and Rhys. He just wanted one day where they weren’t connected from head to toe. Every chance he could get, he would sneak little glances at her, making her blush if she caught him. It gave him some smug satisfaction to see the pink staining her cheeks. That was until he saw Lucien glaring at him. He knew why of course; Elain had said that she’d told him about the night of the party because she was scared and confused. That he knew about the baby, simply because she didn’t want to be alone when she took the tests. Part of him was jealous at first because that was their night- what they could remember of it, anyway –and it was their baby. His baby. He felt he should have been there when she found out, but he hadn’t known then. They hadn’t spoken until after that and she hadn’t thought he’d care, that he’d want anything to do with her. With either of them. But it still hurt for some reason.

Azriel was brought out of his musings to the sound of both Cassian and Lucien’s very unhappy groaning. Looking up he saw that both Nesta and Feyre had their eyes, now furiously cold, glaring in the same direction. Cass had his head tilted to the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world, Rhys was rubbing his temples as if a headache was brewing and Lucien looked as though he was trying to disappear. Elain was desperately trying to tuck herself into Nesta’s side, as if that was currently the safest place for her. He turned his head in the same direction that the two girls were looking in, and when he saw what they did, he struggled to hold back a groan of his own.

Ianthe was strutting across the room, acting like she owned the whole goddamn place, right towards their table. When she reached it there was a slight smirk on her face as she placed one hand on her hip and used the other to twirl her awful bleached hair around her finger, but before she could speak, Rhys beat her to it.

“How many times do you have to be told, demon spawn, no one here wants anything to do with you. Leave.”

Her pinched face twisted up into something horrid for a moment before the smirk was back and she was opening her mouth, speaking in that nasally tone that made him want to stab himself.

“Now now, Rhysand, don’t be like that. I’m curious about something. All of you boys except for Lucy dearest turned down this,” she made a flourished gesture at herself, “beautiful piece of work for a trashy lower model.”

Before Feyre could get up, he was pulling her back down, and the whining from the blonde continued.

“You for Tamlin’s sloppy seconds, Cassian for the cold bitch that probably doesn’t put out, and you, Azzie? You did it for the virgin freak over there. I just wanted to know how you all managed to snag an Archeron sister.”

Everything had gone deadly still. Cass was gaping like a fish, Rhys had an eyebrow raised and he could feel Feyre glaring daggers into the side of his head. Lucien had dropped his head into his hands while Elain was wide eyed, pale and her hand looked like it was beginning to shake. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her close, to let her know that everything was fine. But he could do nothing. Nothing but stare at Nesta as she flicked her eyes to his, an angry fire burning within them.

“Azriel you have about thirty seconds to explain to me what the hell the bitch is talking about, or so help me god, you will have no balls left.”

He knew that they’d have to tell people eventually, but this is not how he wanted to tell her sisters that they were dating.

Motherfucking shit fuck.

“It’s true, I saw them leaving the diner not so long, hand in hand. They looked very cosy.”

He vaguely saw Ianthe turn on her heel and saunter away after that, satisfied that she’d caused enough damage for one day. He was about to say something, anything, to dissolve the situation, but Elain beat him to it.

“Nes, please calm down. We had only just made it official between us this week. We weren’t ready to tell anyone yet, but I like him. I really like him, so, can’t you be happy for us? Please Nesta?”

It was official, he was dead. There was no way he would be allowed to live his life now that it was confirmed. And if she acted like this just because they were dating, how the hell were they going to be able to tell everyone about the little life they had created? Luckily for him Feyre managed to calm Nesta down, bless her soul. She and Azriel had always had a different sort of friendship and right now, he was so grateful for that.

“Come on Nes, we know Az. We know he’s good enough for her and that he’ll treat her right. And think, we can do triple dates now, won’t that be fun?”

“Fine. But know this Az, if you hurt her in anyway shape or form, I’ll break your fucking legs with a hammer.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding at the averted crisis, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to the girl beside him, receiving a gentle smile in return. Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket, so he pulled it out while everyone was distracted, and reading the text on the screen, he couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face.

Uh, I have an appointment booked at the clinic. It’s the twelve week scan because it’s good to have one then; or so I’ve read. Would you like to come? You don’t have to obviously, I can go by myself, but I thought I’d ask. No pressure.

-El

Stretching his leg under the table to hook his ankle around hers, he saw her jump before she started playing back while he answered;

Of course I’d like to come. I can’t wait to see him/her. I told you I was all in, Elain, and I meant it. Every scan and every check up, I’ll be there to hold your hand. We do this together.

-Az

—————

Well she came back😬 love it? Hate it? Let me know those thoughts and feelings. If you want to be added/removed from the tags just say so!💓

Tags: @starlitfangirl @starsauroras @drunken-starz @myfriendscallmeraba @thesirenwashere @empress-sei @elrielllll @stars-falling @cirieael @verifiefangirl @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @fancyclodpaintercookie @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @azriel-archeronn @queen-of-glass @bamchickawowow @slightly-sane-fangirl @empress-ofbloodshed @sleeping-and-books @b00kworm @kvi-arts @rhysandhlcor @tswaney17 @awkward-avocado-s @judexcardanxgreenbriar @harmonyindark245

[fangzeronos]

In Love With My Best Friend

Ivy couldn’t understand it. Harley had been nervous to talk to her after the Parademon army went back to Apokolips, but when she asked Harley what she wanted to talk about, Harley blabbered about her bachelorette party? No, Ivy knew there was something else that Harley wasn’t saying, and it happened because of Kite Man popping over her shoulder.

 Sighing as she walked through the rubble of tanks and dead Gothamites, the green skinned woman heard grunting and an occasional swear, smiling to herself before she walked over a bit of busted tank. She looked down and saw Harley shifting some rubble out of the way, dirt and soot covering her normally pale arms and legs, marks of blood and dirt on her neck.

 “Harls,” Ivy said, hopping down and walking over, holding her hand out and wrapping the rubble in a vine before shifting it out of the way. “There, honey.”

 “Thanks, Ivy,” Harley said, wiping her face and spreading more dirt to her forehead. She turned away, heading for another piece of debris. “Thought you’d be with Kite Boy.”

 Ivy smiled a little, biting her lip. “No, no, he uh…he wanted to take a slew of selfies next to the taco truck the Parademons decided to use as a dildo, so…” she said with a chuckle. When Harley didn’t laugh, Ivy bit her lip and looked at her friend. “Harley. You wanted to talk about something, and it wasn’t my bachelorette party. Because we both know we’re going to end up drunk and passed out on each other like a normal Saturday.” She walked over and put her hand on Harley’s shoulder. “Talk to me.”

 Harley sighed, her hands clenching before she folded her arms softly. “You were right. We need to talk about what happened, and just saying it was ‘spur of the moment’ or that it didn’t mean anything is bullshit,” she said softly. She turned and looked at Ivy, backing up a bit and biting her lip.

 “Harls—”

 “No, Ive. My turn,” Harley said. “When I thought I was going to die, my last thought before you catching me was “She’ll be happier without me. She won’t have to waste her life fixing my monumental fuck-ups.” But when we hit the ground, it wasn’t just the adrenaline or the rush of the moment.” She bit her lip, looking down before chancing a look at Ivy. “Until recently, I’ve been ignoring something.”

 “What?” Ivy asked, sitting on a piece of the rubble and looking up at Harley, feeling like it was better to sit then be floored by whatever Harley was going to say next.

 “The way I feel about you,” Harley said softly. “The kiss…was more then just a thing to me. I didn’t want it to end.” She looked down, digging the toe of her shoe into the dirt. “The closer your wedding gets, the harder and harder it’s been to come to terms with it. I’ve tried to be supportive and be the best friend that’s all “Yeah, bitch, go get what you want! Woo!!” But inside I’m burning alive because the only person that’s ever fucking cared about me is getting married and I’m standing on her left while my heart gets ripped out constantly watching her with the moron she’s going to marry.”

 Ivy bit her lip, looking down and sighing softly. “Harley, what exactly are you saying? Stop beating around the—”

“I fucking love you, and I can’t take it anymore!” Harley yelled, looking at Ivy who looked stunned into silence. “I’ve loved you for fucking years, but I never did anything about it because I was enamored with the fucking assclown and being caught up in my own self-empowerment bullshit! Every minute I see you and Kite Man together, every kiss, every touch, every text or call or “Babe” or whatever, I die a little more inside because I want that to be me, but I was too fucking slow! Too goddamn caught up in my own bullshit to make the move I wanted!” She sank to the ground, tears falling down her cheeks and cutting through the grime. “The kiss…at the Pit was…as close as I’ll ever get to feeling that happy ever again…”

 Ivy blinked, looking at Harley. She stood up and walked over, kneeling beside Harley. “Harls. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she asked. She took Harley’s hands, squeezing softly and trying to give her friend some comfort.

 “Because…it wouldn’t matter either way,” Harley said, pulling away from Ivy and wrapping her arms around herself. “You’re marrying him, and nothing I say or do or admit is going to change it.” She got up, stepping back. “I, uh…I should go clean up. Gordon’s probably on his way back to arrest me and throw me in a cell for the rest of my life.” She started toward the mall, stopping and biting her lip.

 Ivy got up, looking at Harley’s back as she stopped. She waited for a minute, debating on whether to go and hug her best friend or just leave her be. Her answer presented itself when Harley started walking away, and Ivy reached out softly before she let her hand drop, sinking to the ground again. She felt the tears stinging her eyes, her heart thundering in her chest. “Harley…”

 “Babe?” Kite Man asked as he walked up, tucking his phone into his kite. “Babe, you alright?” He knelt down, rubbing Ivy’s back. “Pam?”

 “Fine,” Ivy said softly. She wiped her eyes as she stood up, biting her lip. “Let’s just go home…nothing more to do here…”

 “You sure? Harley—”

 “Doesn’t need me right now, Chuck. Let’s just fucking go,” Ivy said, walking off and tucking her hands in her pockets.

 Harley sighed as she stood under the shower, dirt and grime washing away. She shut off the water and dried off, getting dressed before she walked back out. “Goddamn it.”

 “What’s wrong?” King Shark asked, looking over as he set his laptop down.

 “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know,” Harley said, sinking down to sit on the table. “All I know is Gordo’s probably on his way to bust me, so you guys are probably better off splitting. You shouldn’t go down with me. I did all of this, so…it’s time to take the fall.”

 “Harley,” Shark said. “You can’t just give up. You have to stay strong.”

 Harley rolled her eyes as she stood up. “Fuck strong. I can’t do any of this anymore,” she said. “Do me a favor. If Gordon rolls up jingling the linked bracelets, tell him to find me at Ace Chemicals.” She went to her room, grabbing a duffle bag before she packed her clothes and walked out, biting her lip.

 Two days later across town, Ivy had done a lot of thinking, too much drinking, and a lot of soul searching with a dash of inner speculation, as well as trying to think of a reason to stay away from Harley even though her heart and gut were telling her to get off of her ass and find the other woman and kiss her until neither of them could breathe. Ivy sighed as she rested her head on her arm, the paper on the table. She unfolded it and laid it out, her eyes widening at the headline.

 “Clown Queen of Crime Arrested. No Chance of Parole”

 “Fuck,” she muttered. “Goddamn it, Harley.” Opening the paper, she found the article to start reading.

 The name Harley Quinn used to be synonymous with the Joker. But in recent months, the former sidekick to the Clown Prince of Crime had branched out on her own, bringing her own brand of destruction and mayhem to Gotham City. Her insane motivations and plans brought down Joker for good, but her victory was short lived as an earthquake leveled most of the city.

 In the months since, the former Arkham Psychiatrist had taken the city back bit by bit from the “Injustice League”, a group of Batman’s major enemies who had divided the city. Her last attempt to destroy Gotham saw her using an army from space, one someone called “Parademons”. However, the attack stopped suddenly, leaving Commissioner Jim Gordon to be able to take back the city for the people of Gotham once again.

 Gordon, having found Harley Quinn at Ace Chemicals, arrested and locked away the villainess, hoping that she would be standing trial in the coming months, once Governmental assistance rebuilds Gotham City.

 “Why the fuck would she have—oh. Oh, Harley, no honey…” Ivy sighed, setting the paper down.

 “Babe?” Kite Man asked, walking in from the bedroom in his signature green robe. “Everything cool?”

 “No,” Ivy said. She looked at her hand where her ring caught the light, biting her lip. “Listen, Chuck…we, um, we need to talk.” She stood up, walking over before kissing her fiancé’s cheek. “You’re wonderful, and I love you, but…”

 “Oh, no. I might know where this is going. The venue called and we’re having to reschedule?”

 Ivy sighed, putting her hand on her face, shaking her head. “No. No, that’s not it at all,” she said. She took Kite Man’s hands, biting her lip. “Listen. Please. I love you, I don’t doubt that. But I…I can’t do this anymore. I…I can’t keep lying to myself.”

 “About what?” Kite Man asked, squeezing Ivy’s hand. “Pam? What’s goin’ on?”

 Ivy sighed softly. “Ever since the other day when Harley commanded the Parademons, I got her to see what she was doing wasn’t what she wanted. I found her a bit later, while you were still snapping pictures of the taco truck, and…I talked to her. She told me something, and I’ve been…struggling with it the last two days.” She ran her hand in her hair, biting her lip softly. “Remember the other night I was kind of nervous and you were asking if I was fine and I played it off as narrowly avoiding death for the hundredth time in eight months and dodged the question like a motherfucker?”

 Kite Man nodded. “Yeah, I remember. You showered and went to bed, and we didn’t even freak out in the sheets like usual.”

 Ivy nodded softly. “The reason I was nervous and less then responsive is…because that night in the Pit, Harley let me go so I could live because she wanted me to have my future with you. The thing is, I don’t want a future without Harley. I saved her from dying, and…when we were topside of the Pit, we um…I kissed her. Like a real “Jesus Christ this is hot and how have I never done this before!?” kiss. It felt different with her.”

 “Hell yeah,” Kite Man said with a grin.

 “No! Not hell yeah!” Ivy said, wringing her hands together. “Chuck, I wanted to keep kissing her. I wanted to tear her clothes off in the middle of the desert and fuck her unconscious. I still want that! Every time I close my eyes to rest or think, all I see is Harley. I—holy shit.”

 “You’re in love with your best friend,” Kite Man said softly, nodding as he looked away. “Right…”

 “Chuck—"

 Kite Man shook his head. “It’s fine. I, honestly, I saw this coming a long time ago. When Freeze turned her into an icicle, all you did was worry. Every time she’s in trouble, you go running. I…”

 Ivy sighed softly, reaching down before taking her ring off. She took Kite Man’s hand, putting the ring in his palm and closing his fingers around it. Leaning up, Ivy kissed his cheek and smiled softly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I do love you, but…”

 “Not the way you love her,” Kite Man said. “I understand.” He kissed Ivy’s cheek, moving around her to sit on the couch.

 Ivy nodded softly, walking toward the door. “I’ll, um…I’ll be back to get my stuff. Ok?”

 Kite Man shook his head. “I’ll take it to the mall. Give it to the Shark.” He looked away, tossing his helmet on the couch. “Please, just go.”

 Ivy looked down, setting her key for the apartment on the table before she walked out. Making her way downstairs, Ivy walked out of the complex, taking off at a run for GCPD. “Hang on, baby. I’m on the way.”

 Harley laid on her bed in the lockup of GCPD, twirling her hair around her finger softly. “This is what’s best,” she said. “Now I can’t ruin anyone else’s life.” She turned on her side, facing the wall and looking at a picture of herself and Ivy, being the one thing Gordon allowed her to keep. Closing her eyes, Harley willed herself to get over Ivy and learn to move on again.

 A few minutes passed, and Harley’s eyes flashed open as a rumbling sounded outside of her cell. She sat up, looking at the wall before getting up and backing up toward the bars as the wall was punctured, green vines snaking through. The wall was ripped away, Harley’s eyes widening as Ivy stood on her plant, the wall falling to the ground and shattering.

 "Let’s go, babe,” Ivy said, holding her hand out.

 Harley walked forward, stopping before she grabbed her picture and tucked it into her pocket. She reached out and took Ivy’s hand, being pulled onto the plant. “Ive, what the hell are you doing? Gordon’s gonna come after you for busting me out.”

 Ivy smiled. “I don’t care. Let him try,” she said, wrapping her arms around Harley. “Why were you at Ace?”

 Harley hugged Ivy tightly, shaking softly. “I…I was gonna jump into whatever acid was left. Wipe out Harley Quinn, try and bring back Harleen. I…I couldn’t deal anymore.” She sighed softly, biting her lip. “What are you doing here?”

 “I couldn’t leave you,” Ivy said. “Not after the other day.” She stepped off of the plant with Harley, taking her hands.

 “Hey, where’s your ring?” Harley asked, looking at Ivy’s hand. “Ivy.”

 “I gave it back to him,” Ivy said. “I couldn’t do it. After you left me in the rubble the other day, I went to the apartment, and I…I couldn’t even focus on him. I kept replaying everything you told me, and I…I knew I was lying to myself, thinking I could have my happy future with Chuck.”

 “Ivy, no. You have everything you want with him. You can’t throw it all away because of me.”

 “Yes, I can,” Ivy said, putting her hands on Harley’s cheeks. “I don’t want him without you. If I don’t have you, I don’t have my happiness, Harls.”

 “Ivy—"

 “No,” Ivy said, putting her fingers on Harley’s lips. “No more talking. Let’s get out of here before Gordon shows up and we’re all fucked.” She smirked, kissing Harley’s head. “Because when we get home, I’m not letting you go until we’re both thoroughly fucked.”

 Harley smiled softly, nodding. “Alright.”

 As the two took off through Gotham, Harley hoped she wasn’t dreaming and that this was all real. Hiding in back allies and side streets, the pair made their way back to the Mall, leaning against the doors and panting as they tried to catch their breaths.

 “So…where’s—oh, shit—where’s Psycho?” Ivy asked, pushing her hair out of her face.

 “Fucked off,” Harley said, wiping her face and shaking her head. “When I broke up the Staff controlling the Parademons, he said I threw away a chance to rule the world and he wasn’t staying. Good riddance to the little bastard.”

 Ivy sighed, shaking her head. “Ah, well,” she said. “Now. What are we doing?”

 Harley smirked, standing up and taking Ivy’s hand. “I seem to remember something about you not letting me go until we were both thoroughly fucked,” she said.

 Ivy smiled. “I sure as hell did say that, didn’t I?” she asked. She walked forward and lifted Harley up, the blonde squeaking in surprise. Ivy smiled, leaning in and kissing Harley properly, the other woman’s arms going around her neck.

 “I love you,” Harley whispered, nipping Ivy’s lip.

 “I love you,” Ivy said, squeezing Harley’s ass as she carried her upstairs toward Harley’s room.

 Kicking the door closed, Ivy reached up and undid Harley’s shirt, throwing the GCPD branded shirt to the ground before sliding her hands up and squeezing Harley’s tits. “I’ve always seen these in the showers at Arkham and around here, but up close they’re beautiful,” she said, kissing Harley again and smiling.

 Harley giggled, moaning into the kiss as she felt Ivy’s fingers playing with her nipples. “Mmm…glad you like them,” she giggled, reaching between them and undoing Ivy’s coat. She wiggled free and dropped to the ground, pulling Ivy’s coat and white shirt off, tossing them to the floor before pouncing and knocking Ivy onto the bed.

 Ivy laughed, looking up at Harley and smiling. “What do you want to do, baby?” she asked.

 Harley smirked, pulling her pants off and tossing them aside before she removed her panties. “I want to sit on your face until you make me cum,” she said.

 Ivy licked her lips, looking up at Harley as she crawled up the bed. “Then take a seat,” she said, her heart thundering as she watched Harley’s pussy come into view. She looped her arms around Harley’s legs, feeling the other woman’s legs on either side of her head and she pulled her hips down as she stuck out her tongue.

 Harley gasped and moaned as she felt Ivy’s tongue against her for the first time. She leaned forward and gripped the headboard, Ivy’s grip on her legs making it hard for her to move herself. She felt Ivy’s tongue snake its way to her clit, whimpering as Ivy hit it. “Fuck, Ivy…”

 Ivy giggled, moving Harley slightly to stick her tongue into Harley’s pussy, feeling her girlfriend trying to grind against her face. “Mmm…” she moaned, wiggling her tongue against Harley’s clit before moving her fingers around.

 Harley moaned softly, her eyes rolling back in her head. She moved her hand down and tangled her fingers into Ivy’s hair, panting softly. “Ivy…fuck…so close…”

 Ivy slid her tongue through Harley’s lips, teasing her clit before pulling back and looking up at her girlfriend. “Then cum, baby.” She moved back and dove back in, closing her eyes as she kept working her tongue into Harley again.

 Harley panted, her eyes rolling back as she screamed out, her orgasm ripping through her. “FUCK!” she yelled, pushing closer to Ivy and finally getting to be able to grind her clit against Ivy’s tongue, whimpering as she felt Ivy pull away. She fell beside Ivy, panting as she lifted her head up.

 Ivy sat up, licking her lips and wiping her face of Harley’s cum, smiling as she looked at the other woman. “Fuck yes,” she said.

 Harley panted, giggling as she looked over at Ivy. “Soon…as I catch my breath…I’ll fuck you,” she said, covering her face and feeling her entire body tingling. “Holy fuck…nobody’s ever made me cum like that. Where the hell did you learn to eat pussy like that?”

 Ivy smirked, kicking her boots off before she started shuffling her pants down, laying back beside Harley. “Hey, every girls got to have their collegiate lesbian fling. Karen Beecher, mmmm. That girl could eat pussy,” she said. “Taught me and two others how to work tongue and fingers, and goddamn was it great.”

 Harley laughed, sitting up and feeling her legs shaking. “Well, however she taught you, I ever meet her, I’ll probably kiss her. Jesus, nobody’s ever rocked my world like that,” she said, leaning up and kissing Ivy. “I love you.”

 Ivy smiled as she kissed Harley back, playfully flicking the pale woman’s nipple. “I love you, babe.”

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

WARNING: Mentions of sexual assault, blood, gore.

If any of those are a trigger warning, please don’t read this. I’ll get some fluffy Kozik up soon ❤️

💕Kozik’s Girl. Tig’s Baby.⭐️

You were a Trager, but you only met your pops once or twice, never really connected, but now in Charming on business; your father was unavoidable. Though he didn’t know, nor would you tell him, that while you lived in Tacoma you had slept with— on multiple occasions— a fellow brother named Herman Kozik, or Hermie as you dubbed him in bed.

“Hi, I’m Stella Trager. Here to see my pops,” you state as you head into the shop.

“Hey! Lady you can’t be here without car troubles, you can’t be back there.”

“I’m the daughter of Trager, you can go ahead and tell him his baby is out here getting a sunburn waiting for you to approve it or I can go in.” You snip at the Mexican boy chasing you down.

“He’s busy, but I can take a message for him.” You saunter passed him and shout into the garage over the tools and chatter.

“Daddy! I’m here.” You call, eyes scanning for his curls. You didn’t see them, but you did recognize the puff of blond hair coming towards you with a smile. When Trager and Kozik both stand in front of you, both looking confused.

“Baby—“

“Don’t you dare finish that motherfucking sentence. Stellar, you have ten seconds before I rip his balls off and stuff them down his throat. Why the hell is he responding to ‘daddy’?” He growls, eyes meeting yours.

“Well, I’m not sure what he’s even doing here. But, anyway, that’s what I came to talk about. I’m sleeping around with a Son.”

“That one? It had to be that fucking MORON? One in another COUNTRY would’ve been better than this fuckhead!” He swings on him, fist connecting with Kozik’s face.

“I’m sorry, pops. I didn’t know how else to tell you! I was thinking about moving back to Charming, but Kozik would have to be patched in here,and you’d have to agree.” You try to reason with him, but he barely hears you, as his fists pound relentlessly into Kozik’s face.

“And you expect me to patch you in after you got my dog killed and my daughter calls you daddy?” He screams, grabbing Kozik’s throat with both hands.

“Sir, I love your daughter.” He chokes out.

“She’s not just some lay, she’s my daughter.” He growls, his blue eyes like the deepest ocean.

“I know that, sir. That’s why I want patched in, man. I wanna marry her and I want our kids to know you. I want them to know we got over this decades-old shit and got passed it. I wanna tell em that your daughter is the prettiest woman alive. I wanna grow old with he—-“ He’s cut off with another hit, but a truck whips into the lot while everyone’s gathered around the ring, and a man jumps out and grabs you, hand covering your mouth and dragging you into the truck before whipping out of the parking lot, gunshots sounding off behind you. You were now blindfolded, bound, and gagged.

Kozik and Tig’s swings are stopped when Jax’s gun shoots off. They both turn their attention to the Vice President, his face pale.

“What, man? What’s goin on? Where’s Stellar? She alright?” His questions are met with a few looks of disgust and a few of pale ghastliness.

“She was just kidnapped man. Found this on the ground.” Jax murmurs, eyes averted to the ground as he hands off the note.

“Kidnapped? They just TOOK HER?” He pulls his gun out and hops on his bike, squealing out of the parking lot and flooring it down the road.

“Blue Chevy! Green passenger door! Crew cab! 2004!” Eyes watching for the description Jax shouted behind him.

“Son of a bitch!” He shouts, ducking just in time to miss the string across the alley he zoomed down. “Fuck!” He yells as he flies back out into the main road, hugging tight to his handle bars as he revs up between to cars at the intersection. He’s finally stopped by a police car, parked directly in the road, stopping him. He skids to a stop, lying his bike out, the hot tar ripping up his exposed forearms as he tumbles, landing at the cops feet.

“Mister Kozik, speeding, endangering the lives of civilians, failing to follow traffic signs, you’re looking at a hefty fine mister.” She taps the toe of her boot on the ground.

“I don’t care. They took her. They took her. They took my wife!” He screams at the top of his lungs, his heart burning as he starts to cry. “They took my baby.” He whispers, starting to get dizzy from the sun and the blood loss.

When you awoke, you knew where you were. You were in Tacoma, the smell of the air and the sound around you, it was Tacoma.

“Easy princess.” She knew that voice. “I’m gonna give you back to Kozik, but he’s not leaving Tacoma, you got that? I give you back, ALIVE, and you and Kozik move back to Tacoma, we put this behind us.” It was Reverend Wheeler, from the Tacoma charter.

“I—I’ll tell him that you did this!” You shriek, grabbing the ropes that held you down.

“Now, listen to me. I really want Kozik as the next President of this club, and he can’t be that from Redwood. Now, I’ve got some business calls to make. Keep quiet.”

“Kozik! How are things going down in Redwood?” Reverend Wheeler asks, listening as Kozik heaves a sigh.

“Somebody took Stellar.” He chokes, eyes watering.

“Oh shit, man. I’m sorry. I told you those Redwood Originals can’t keep anybody safe.” He offers, eyes flicking over to you.

“Yeah, guess you’re right. I gotta find her, man.” He whispers, hanging up. Pulling a burner phone from his breast pocket and dialing the same number.

“Hello?” His soft, confused voice broke your heart. He was being played the men who were supposed to love him.

“Herman. Kozik? Is it? I have someone who would like to speak with you. Remember darling, a wrong word, and I’ll kill ya.” He murmurs to you.

“You got my baby? You got her?” He shrieks, jumping to his feet and pacing the club. “I want her back, man. Listen, I don’t know why ya took her, but that’s my baby. That’s my girl. My best friend. My one and only, man. I just want her back. Please dawg, tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen.” He pleads, eyes begging one of his club members to help him. He was going crazy without you.

“We need ten thousand dollars, by tomorrow or your girl dies. And my god, I’d hate to see something happen to this little lady’s pretty face, Herman.” The man said, something about his voice stuck in the back of Kozik’s brain, eating away at him. He knew that voice.

“Lemme talk to her. I just wanna hear her voice, man. Please.”

“He-hello?” You ask, throat sore and dry.

“Holy shit, hey baby. I got you okay? I’m gonna kill these bastards. Don’t you worry! Just hold on, baby! I love you!” Tig watched Kozik fall apart in front of them, and he felt horrible. Tig was so distracted and angry with Kozik that he let his own daughter get kidnapped. The tears on the blondie’s face made him feel awful. First, Abel was stolen, but they found him. Now Tig’s daughter and Kozik’s babygirl. That shit was wrong. He knew, at that moment— Kozik in the clubhouse begging on his knees just to speak with you— that the blond moron was the best thing for you.

“I love you, Hermie.” She whispers, breaking what little piece of his heart was left. He staggered to his feet and his fist hit the wall.

“Baby!” He shrieks as the line goes dead. Nothing but dial tone filling his ears.

“We’re gonna get her, man.” Opie assures, his hand resting on Kozik’s back.

“I hope so. I know them. I don’t know how, but I know who it is. There was somethin’ about the way this guy said Herman, man.”

“It’s alright, dude. We’ll get her back. What’s the ransom?” Jax asked.

“Ten thousand. I got that shit, it’s chump change in Tacoma.” He stepped away from Opie for only a moment, but then his eyes were the size of saucers. “Tacoma. They’ve got her in Tacoma!” He barks, heading to his room to get the cash and sprinting for his bike.

“Woah! Woah! What do you mean they’ve got her in Tacoma? Why would anyone in Tacoma take her? Was it the Nomad charter? Why?” Tig asks, chasing after him.

“Because they didn’t want me leaving. So they took her, gonna use her as a bargaining chip for me to go back to Tacoma. Rev wanted me to be the next president, but when I told him I was probably moving, he came unhinged, man. Told me I’d regret not staying in Tacoma.” He explains as he packs his saddlebag before mounting his bike, taking a deep breath from his helmet, and smelling the sweetness of your coconut shampoo.

“Why would he do that?” He asks.

“Because Tacoma’s gettin’ desperate, man.” He takes off, leaving Tig and the crew to follow behind him as he headed for Tacoma. They arrived at the clubhouse and he busted through the door. Dropping the bag on the table, he grabs the prospect up and presses a gun to his head. “You’re gonna take me to the girl. Or I’m gonna spill your brains across the clubhouse table. You got me?” He growls, jamming the boy in the back as they headed outside. “You don’t take me to her, you alert any of these motherfuckers. I’ll goddamn kill you.”

“I got it, dude. Man, this club isn’t what it used to be dude. I want out.” He grumbles as he storms towards the shed.

“Tell you what, since you don’t seem to know anything, talk to Jax. Become part of the Redwoods. There’s other charts, kid. Don’t stay with these assholes. You wanna come back with us?” He asks, as the kid swings the door open. There you were, his sweet angel, duct taped to a support in the middle of the shed. “Baby, oh hunny. Look at you. Beautiful, sweetheart. Just beautiful. Always.” He whispers, hugging you against him. You let out a soft whine, the pain in your ribs twinging and stabbing. “What’s the matter baby?” He whispers, scooping you up.

“My ribs, they kicked me a lot. Sorry, hun. I’m okay. Just happy to see ya, daddy.” You laugh, sucking in a sharp breath and gritting your teeth.

“Easy, hunny. I got ya. Let’s go. You got any guff about sparky over there joining SAMCRO?” He asks, directing your attention to the sweet boy who was bringing you water and food when the club left.

“Nah, he’s a good kid. He deserves a good club.” You whisper, letting the kid hug you awkwardly, showing the rest of them he was good.

“We gotta get outta here they should be back any minute. Get the fuck outta here. I’ll take care of em.” The guy barks, heading into the clubhouse.

“Kid! Get your kutte on, let’s go. You ride with SAMCRO. Let’s go.”

“You guys aren’t gonna kill me right? Rev says if anyone found out about it, I’d get killed. No other charter would take a nark man.”

“Kid, you listen to me. You were the only one who brought my wife food and water while your president held her hostage. You deserve to be in a good club, you got a good heart. Now, let’s get outta here, before they come back.” Kozik was ready to zoom away, but he heard the bikes coming up the street. Digging through his bag, he tossed his second bulletvest to the kid.

“Put it on and stick with us, you’re crow now.” He calls to the kid. Rev pulls into the lot, seeing the Redwood MC his eyes widen for just a moment, scared out of his mind. How had he known?

“Crows.” Someone whispers. Kozik swings a leg over his bike and stands in front of Rev.

“You. You son of a bitch. You took my girl from me, make a ransom call from a burner, and think I wouldn’t remember when you threatened me? I’m gonna kill you. You’re fucking dead, Rev.”

“That right? Go ahead and shoot me, my boys will back me up, well except you, I guess.” He chuckles darkly, walking towards the bike you were currently perched on. “You tell him how I touched you? How you loved it? How you begged me to keep going? That Herman here, couldn’t get it up for ya anymore!” His maniacal laughter and shrieking is cut short when Kozik grabs him by the throat.

“You touched her?” He asks, eyes dark with hatred. Some MC wash up was now playing god with you.

“Hey man, if you ask her, she fuckin’ loved it.”

“Don’t. Don’t say another fucking word. Jax! Tig!” He shouts, you watching on as Jax and your dad each grab an arm.

“What? You gonna execute me in front of my men?” He chuckles.

“Yeah, I sure the fuck am, on your knees!”

“I believe the chap said,” Chibs’ boots kicked Rev in the back of the knees. “ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES!”

“Now, look at this. You here on the ground. You wanna suck my dick? Huh? You wouldn’t like that? I’m sorry, I don’t really remember asking. That’s my daughter that you just admitted to raping.”

“Huh, don’t that just suck man? I should let him do that doggie shit to ya, let him do what he wants and leave you here like the crying bitch that you are. But hey, I’ve got better plans. Take off his shirt.” Kozik slicked the blade across this man’s back, carving whatever he was carving into his skin, Rev crying out. “Lastly,” his sunk the knife into the front of Rev’s chest, cutting what appeared to be a circle, then proceeded to stuff his big hand into the opening and yank out Rev’s still beating heart.

“Kozik, man. I’ve never seen this Viking shit before. I didn’t know you had it in ya!” Jax cheers as Rev falls to the pavement. Kozik turns to you, your eyes wide and your face pale.

“Baby,” he starts towards you. He’d forgotten you were right there, witnessing the monster rearing it’s ugly head.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me.” You whispered. You held gently to him the whole ride back to Charming. No words were spoken between you two. Hell, you were scared out of your mind. You couldn’t believe what you saw. That was your man, the one who built you shelves for your workspace at home. The man whose strong arms made you feel so safe. You’d never witnessed this crusader of a barbarian, and it scared you.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He murmurs, his heart breaking over again. You wouldn’t get any closer than four feet, scared of him.

“No! You ripped out some guy’s heart!” You shriek, grabbing a chair and putting it between you two.

“Keep your fucking voice down. Don’t be out here yelling that shit!” He hushes, stepping toward you.

“Jesus, what would stop you from doing that to me? What would stop you? Huh? What would stop you from killing me?” You shriek, arms wrapped around your small frame as you quake.

“What?” He asks. “You think I could do that shit to you? Baby, baby listen, I know I’m a little messed up, but he raped you and was gonna kill you. Chec, the kid from Tacoma, said they planned on killing you and dropping you off at our front door. As a warning. And I wasn’t gonna just let that shit happen!” He shouts, and you shriek, covering your head with the blanket that was wrapped around you.

“I’m sorry, Kozik. I just need some time. This shit that went down, I’m still a little fuzzy, but you ripping out someone’s heart, that’s clear. I saw you. What did you carve into his back?” You coo, eyes still on the floor.

“Your name.” He steps a step closer to you, you take one backwards.

“I need time. It’s over, Kozik. I’m sorry. I can’t be with someone who can live two separate lives, because like today, those two became one.” You head out the door, limping and dragging your blanket behind you. You spent the night in Kozik’s room at the clubhouse, avoiding eye contact with everyone who watched on confused. Eyes turned to the door as Kozik walked in, his eyes directed towards the barkeep.

“Gimme a couple shots of something strong. It’s gonna be a long night.” He grumbles, putting himself on a barstool.

“What’s going on man?”

“Nothing, apparently women aren’t as keen to that barbarian shit.” He chuckles dryly. “Hey, I’m gonna stay in the guest room across the hall from her, do you guys mind? I just, I don’t wanna leave her alone, guys.” He murmurs, eyes fogging with tears, only to blink them away.

“Hey there, Conan. You wanna throw me over your shoulder and have your way with me?” A crow eater wandered up to him, smooth talking and sexy, she was hard to resist. “Oh come on, baby. You and I both know you did that to protect her. That’s hot.”

“Yeah. I did.”

“And all she did was think you were a monster. You sexy, beautiful beast. Lemme show you what a real man should feel.” He downed three more shots, feeling buzzed enough to go through with it. She leads him to his dorm, pushing him back onto the bed, letting him wrap a denim clad leg across her soft skin, the rough denim exciting her.

“She doesn’t deserve me.” He whispers, letting her ravage his body.

“That’s right, baby. Let me show you what you deserve.” She whispers, sending fire chasing her lips down his chest.

The next morning, she’d figured it was time to talk to Kozik. She was sorry for overreacting the night before. As you step into the clubhouse after heading out for a coffee, you tiptoe over the women and men on the floor, heading back to Kozik’s room. As you reach for the handle, you hear your dad from behind you.

“Hey, he’s not in there. He already went to the shower and said he was headed back to your house.”

“Well he’s not there. I’ll just wait for him in here. can you call him?” You ask, twisting the knob and swinging open the door.

“I won’t need to.” He mutters, eyes dark with fear. As you stepped into his dorm you knew why. The stench of sex hung in the air, and your eyes fall onto the scene before you. Some blond, hair flowing over Kozik’s arm, his big arms holding her tight to his body the way he held you.

“What in the mother fuck is going on in here!?” You rage, ripping his blanket from them, revealing naked bodies. “Kozik, you better be pranking me, you fuck.” You growl, watching his eyes flutter open and land on you.

“Awe shit, baby. I—“

“I dare you to try and save it. Go ahead.” You grind through clenched teeth, tears falling down your face.

“Babe, I—“

“He just wanted to feel good about what he did. You made him feel like shit for killing a man who raped you and hurt you. I was a comfort, if you will.” You grabbed the closest weapon, a baseball bat and stretched it back above your head.

“You have ten seconds, doctor Phil.”

“Is she serious?”

“Babe, just leave. I’ll handle this shit, just go.”

“Ok.” You turn, but he calls to you. “Hey. I was talking to her.” Your heart stops in your throat.

“What?” You whisper, watching that bitch saunter out of the room. You can’t help it, you lunge on her, grabbing a handful of hair and slamming her face into the door jam. “Don’t ever, and I do mean ever, touch my man again.” You bark, still holding a handful of her hair.

“Jesus Christ hunny! Let her go!”

“Well someone needed to comfort him.” She croons, a sick grin on her bloody face.

“You bitch!” You drag her through the whole clubhouse, fury pulsing through you. Throwing her onto the hot pavement, you straddle her back, slamming her face into the concrete.

“Grab her before she kills someone!” Jax shouts, hooking his arms through yours and dragging you away from her.

“No! I’m not done!”

“Kozik! You need to keep you girl in check, man. She’s out here bashing some chick’s face into the asphalt.” Jax chuckles a little.

“Don’t fucking bother. I’m gone.” You storm over to his Dyna, kicking it over onto the ground, scratching your initials into the gas tank, and getting into your car.

“Wow, she doesn’t play around man.” Tig chuckles a little, but dry. “You really pissed off my baby, man. She’s my little star, I love her. Don’t make her regret moving home.”

“I won’t man, I just need a minute to process. Shit, bro. What do I do? What do I say? I gotta get her back, for fuck’s sake, she almost killed another woman.” He was back to square one, his heart pounding, head throbbing, as if he’d never found her.

“I don’t know kid, you’ll have to beg.”

“I gotta go, if that bike even rides still.” He chuckles, tipping his bike up and jumping on, heading for home.

“Baby?” He calls into the house, eyes searching the kitchen. “Babe? Ya in here?” He opens the garage door to find you on the garage floor, bound and gagged, shirt ripped open. “Holy fuck. Who?” He screams, grabbing you up, checking for a pulse.

“Tacoma.” You hush, tears falling down your cheeks.

“Why? I killed him!” He cries, examining your body to find something carved into your chest. “I’m gonna get you to Tara, you’re gonna be okay baby.”

“I hate you.” You whisper, eyes narrowed on him before they drift shut.

“I’m sorry, hunny.” He whispers, grabbing you up and carrying you to your truck. Once at the clubhouse, he carries you gingerly inside, placing you on the pool table before grabbing Tara from Jax. “Someone attacked her in our fucking garage, dude. Hoping you could patch her up, see what they carved into her.” She hesitantly agrees, patching up your chest. When Tara lets out a gasp, Kozik dashes to her side. ‘BITCH’ was etched into your chest from shoulder to shoulder.

“Who knew that she was done with me? Who saw her little tiff?” He yells, realizing who probably did this.

“I mean, she did bash that girl’s face into every solid thing she could find. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hired someone. That’s kind of brutal for a comeback though, man.” Jax calls from the table. As if on cue, that red-headed crow eater comes sauntering in, eyes both puffed and purple. Kozik rushes her, eyes dark.

“Did you do this?”

“No, but it’s karma.” She laughs, continuing past him.

“Listen, if you did this I need to know. Like, ya I slept with you, but that doesn’t mean anything. And that also means you can’t just attack my old lady. You know that, right? And even if you were gonna, a little scare would’ve been plenty. This is too much.” She puts her hands up and laughs.

“I didn’t do it, but it’s fucking karma. That bitch said she was done with you, then dragged my ass through the fuckin’ dirt. I could be your girl, Kozik. I could be twice—“ He covers her mouth with his hand.

“Don’t. She’s always gonna be mine. I swear to god, I’ll follow her to the ends of the earth. Okay? You don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell. We fucked. It was nothing more than that.” He growls, stalking away before he did something he’d regret.

“Hey, how you doin?” He murmurs to you, perching on the edge of the bed.

“Fine. Listen, Hermie, I can’t do this. At least not until I heal a little better. Just, I need some time. I’m not leaving you, I just. Need a break. Okay? Can you give me that?” You ask, eyes meeting his. Tears fill his sweet, sad eyes, but he nods.

“Yeah, of course. I love you, baby.” He whispers, stepping away from you. He wanders away, leaving you alone.

A month went by, the angry marks turning to scars. You went to a tattoo shop, Happy’s, and had the scar tattooed over and had ‘that’ put above it. You start into the clubhouse to show off your new ink. Sauntering in the place like that bitch that you are, you shove aside that tart who banged your man. Standing in front of him, grinning.

“Just thought you’d like to see this.” You whisper, pulling off Kozik’s SAMCRO sweatshirt to reveal only a black lacy bra and the new tattoo.

“What an attention whore.” That tart laughs, but she’s cut short by your fist. You drop her on the ground, spinning in a slow, tantalizing circle eyes only leaving Kozik long enough to finish your twirl. His eyes catch a glimpse of a crow under your boobs, wings outstretched to cup your perky breasts; it’s beak an arrow to that slender neck. His name never looked so good, scribed on her skin.

“I found confidence. I found peace. I found my love of crazy-filled days. I found a lot out about myself being alone. And being alone I learned that I don’t need a man to control me; but goddamn it, I didn’t find contentment. I didn’t find love. I didn’t find anything close to you. I love you, Herman Kozik.” You huff, spinning and starting to walk out.

“Baby! Where you going?” He calls, shock on his lips. “Baby! I love you! That crow, it means more than you’ll ever know to me, and what a badass tattoo to cover a scar. I’m sorry for sleeping with her. I’m sorry for showing the brutal, barbaric side of me. I lost control. I did what I did because he deserved it. He used what I love the most, and he tried to destroy you. When he took you, he ripped out my whole heart and when I found him, I shared that feeling. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of this shit to happen to you. I love you so much.” He whispers, wrapping his arms around you and hugging against his big warm body. Home. You were finally home.

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 2

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

 Penny Parker worked, on average, 108 hours a week between three jobs to make ends meet for herself and Peter. His high school, a stupidly expensive private science academy, sucked the majority of her income up each month despite a scholarship. Rent was $1,200 a month, not including utilities. Peter ate like a quintessential teenage boy, which meant a pound of cereal every morning before school and the equivalent in the evenings when he got home from his clubs.

She didn’t sleep much and only had one rotating day off each week. After learning of Peter’s situation with Tony Stark, she slept even less and spent her days off doing any and all research she could into the man and her options for getting Peter away from him. By the time a month had passed since the revelation that her baby brother was being stalked by a super powerful, criminal mastermind pedophile piece of shit, Penny was a wreck of a human being. Even Peter, who was understandably wrapped up in his own head most of the month, had noticed the bags under his sister’s eyes and the harried look she carried about her at all times.

They joked that Penny had taken every bit of chaos from her parents combined genes, somehow managing to leave behind every ounce of intelligence for Peter. She was a walking, talking disaster on the best of days. He’d seen her stick a fork in a toaster, try to mix bleach and vinegar, hell one time she’d come home from work with a sprained wrist because she’d fallen off a ladder stocking some shelves despite the fact someone had been actively holding the ladder to spot her. But this was an entirely new level of disarray from his sister.

Peter could tell that she wasn’t coming up with any solutions that she was happy with. Despite their inside jokes, Penny had a weird sort of intuitive intelligence. She couldn’t do basic math in her head and forget anything to do with science, hell basic reading comprehension could be a trial at times.

What she knew was that Tony Stark had every police department in New York on his payroll, despite the act they put on that “they were doing everything in their power” to gather evidence on the 87 open investigations into him and his company. She knew that he had several politicians under the same thumb, not because it was public knowledge, but because somehow every bill that was put to vote that could be useful to Tony Stark passed into law (or however that sort of thing worked—Penny didn’t understand bills and laws and the senate or whatever, but who really did?).

She knew that the surrounding states were similarly within his range of power. That his companies’ holdings in California meant he had too much control there too. He had holdings in Alaska, Hawaii, and Puerto Rico as well. It wasn’t public knowledge, but Penny could read between the lines when things seemed too good to be true. Or, too good to be true for one Tony Stark. Everything aligned in a way that was so suspicious, she couldn’t figure out why the FBI or CIA or NSA weren’t on to him too.

In the end, all it meant was that nothing Penny did would really matter in the long run. Tony Stark was infinitely powerful in a multitude of states, rich and influential in a way that one person shouldn’t ever have the ability to be. And Penny Parker had $3,000 to her name and a shitty apartment and an even shittier car. Compared to Tony Stark, she wasn’t even good enough to be dirt.

It meant that she had to be more creative. Penny wasn’t smart, but thinking outside of the usually accepted parameters was kind of her specialty. There was no good way to get Peter away from Tony’s sphere of influence, but there were some ways. Maybe just a single way. A very unpleasant, single way that would rip her heart to shreds. But Penny had decided as a 13 year old that she would do everything she could to keep Peter safe and happy and fuck if she was willing to stop now.

***

“Are you still stalking the webcam feed?” Tony wondered if it was possible to push anymore exasperation into his voice as he walked into the main living room only to find Clint once again watching Peter’s empty apartment on the massive TV.

“Something might happen,” it was the same defense the assassin always used when caught in the act, but Tony knew that the blond actually just wanted to catch a glimpse of Penelope Parker.

In all fairness, even Tony could admit that the young woman was rather beautiful. Where Peter’s skin was milky white and freckled, Penelope had a tan that betrayed her father’s Israeli heritage. She was shorter than Peter, held more weight than her lanky but growing brother. Her hair was long and held a natural wave, the same colour as Peter’s. They had the same eye colour as well, but Penelope’s were more narrow and slanted. It wasn’t Tony’s cup of tea, but he could objectively understand the appeal.

In all honestly, Penelope Parker wasn’t his cup of tea as a person. Every time her name popped into his head, he felt a seething rage begin to build in his chest. Penelope fucking Parker, responsible enough to be deemed guardian of the most precious boy in New York but not responsible enough to actually take care of him.

Back when he thought Peter lived alone off his meager inheritance, the living situation had bothered Tony but not enraged him. After all, sure a teenage boy would be fine living in a shit hole if it fit his budget. But no, his sister was the one who made him live in that rat’s nest. His sister, who worked so often it left poor Peter neglected and alone, was the reason he had to walk through dangerous streets to get home at night. His sister.

His fucking sister.

No wonder Peter hadn’t told him he had a sister. She was probably a fucking monster, as selfish and miserable as the goddamn evil stepsister from Cinderella.

He’d caught enough glimpses of Penelope Goddamn Parker in the last month to last him a life time. She and Peter hardly interacted where the webcam could pick up, although sometimes they caught snippets of audio. Mostly, they witnessed just how addicted to the internet she was. She spent more time on her fucking laptop than she did talking to her own brother.

It drove Tony insane, knowing that the longer he left Peter in her care, the more neglected he would be. His baby boy was trapped in an apartment with an uncaring bitch who spent 90% of her time working and the other 10% ignoring him for whatever bullshit Instagram, Facebook nonsense she was so obsessed with. Tony didn’t even bother keeping a record of her internet history, after the first two days of monitoring had revealed she spent the entire time on Youtube.

“Yeah? And has anything happened in the last, oh, 6 hours since she left for work?”

“No but she should be getting home soon—” Clint winced, having walked directly into the trap Tony set like a dumbass.

“Stop watching the bitch on my TV, all you do is stare down her fucking shirt anyway.”

“The bitch would make a pretty decent lay if you’d give a guy a break.”

Tony Stark did not roll his eyes. Tony Stark was a genius, ran a weapons engineering empire, had the most important politicians in the United States in his back pocket. Tony Stark did not roll his eyes.

So Tony Stark Did Not Roll His Eyes at the blond parked out on his couch with a bowl of popcorn and a beer. No doubt there was a cheap ass pizza on it’s way up the elevator, despite the fact Tony employed some of the best chefs in New York for his private kitchen. Clint Barton was the worst sort of best friend Tony had, but he’d still kill for the dumbass.

“What has Penelope Goddamn Motherfucking Parker done now?” Sam Wilson questioned absently as he walked into the living room from the kitchen, quoting Tony’s general tone of voice when talking about the woman.

“She hasn’t even taken her shirt off where I can see it, can you believe that? Fucking ridiculous. With a rack like that she should be shaking her tits on camera for money daily,” Clint whined in response, gesturing to the empty room on the TV, “I swear she sleeps on that fucking couch almost every night and not once has she undressed in front of the computer.”

“You’re a freak, my dude,” Sam smacked the blond upside the head as he walked past towards the elevator, “Time table still on track, Stark?”

“Steady as she goes,” Tony replied, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, “Where are you going? Movie night starts in 20 minutes?”

Movie night was almost the most ridiculous thing Tony participated in on any given day. His inner circle was made up of the only people in the world he trusted, was made of up assassins and ex-military super soldiers and all sorts of genetically altered freaks, and somehow movie night had become a staple of their existence. To miss a movie night without a doctor’s note or a mission was a crime punishable by near exile in the form of a group silent treatment. Pepper, Happy and Pietro were currently exempt, away on a business trip as executive, body guard, and assistant.

“Just going to change,” Wilson gestured to his workout clothes and shrugged, “need to shower.”

“Now if only we could make you realize that needs to happen more than once a month,” Clint muttered quietly, only to have a dirty shoe nail him in the face a moment later.

The blond fell off the couch with a shout, popcorn flying everywhere as the bowl escaped his grip. Sam, who’s aim was almost as impeccable as Clint’s own, gave the man the finger as the elevator doors closed dramatically.

“You are a disaster of a human being,” Tony commented absently, still watching his phone as the little dot that was his baby boy moved through the city.

He ignored Clint’s protests, flopping onto the couch and making himself comfortable while the rest of the tower’s residents slowly ambled into the communal living room. Bucky and Steve were parked out on the recliner, disgustingly cute and cuddly even from a distance. They, like Clint, had a stupid fascination with fucking Penelope and were watching the webcam feed while they waited for everyone to arrive.

Natasha and Wanda wandered in while chatting, each already having a drink in their hand. Thor, Loki and Bruce all came out of the elevator at the same time, Bruce having come from the labs and the two brothers from the coffee shop on the ground floor of the tower. Sam and Rhodey entered at the same time from the stairwell, both having freshly showered after a long day.

“What are we watching tonight?”

The following argument generally lasted a solid 20 minutes, but Wanda and Natasha won out with a comedy horror they’d all already seen before. It left plenty of room for conversation while the movie played in the background, a deck of cards finding their way onto the coffee table as well.

“So what’s the plan for your boy’s sister, Tones?” Rhodey questioned as Sam dealt cards for their third game of poker of the night.

“I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic to get away from the bitch,” the man grumbled in response as he adjusted his hand, “He’d probably walk right out the front door and leave her in the dust if I asked. I figure I’ll give her an ultimatum: Peter comes with me and she shuts the fuck up, or Peter comes with me and she finds herself in a shallow grave.”

“I think I could draw her tits from memory from how often she’s on her computer and ignoring her brother,” Clint stated, because despite the fact he thought Penelope god awful Parker was hot as all Hell, he knew how much it hurt to have the person who was supposed to care for you most ignore you completely.

Rhodey hummed in agreement, “Maybe we should off her, just in case. I bet she gets some sort of welfare from the state for him and she shouldn’t get to keep raking that in.”

“She shouldn’t get it even while she’s got him,” Natasha stated from over her wine, spread out and lounging on the loveseat closest to the couch, “probably uses it for drugs. It definitely isn’t used for groceries to feed to the poor kid, he looks half starved.”

“Nah, that’s just teenage boy syndrome,” Bucky added a couple of bills to the pot on the coffee table, “Not that I think she’s winning any care taker of the year awards, but I’ve seen that him eat while doing surveillance. Kid could take down a whole ass McDonalds by himself if given the chance.”

“He’s been putting on some weight actually,” Tony felt the corners of his lips tip up in a small smirk, “Muscle mass, one of his friends started dragging him to lift weights on Thursdays.”

“Careful Stark, you get too excited by the thought and you’re gonna pop off in your jeans,” a round of snorts sounded at Rhodey’s words and Tony Stark, Who Did Not Roll His Eyes, gave his friend the finger.

“I say we just go ahead and kill her,” Bruce was focused more on his laptop and the reports there in than the movie, but made sure he always paid attention to the conversation during movie nights, “she’s a liability. It might help Peter adjust too, knowing that she’s gone.”

“And that he has nothing left and nothing to go back to,” Clint added, not mean spiritedly but pointedly and with an exaggerated head tilt.

“He won’t have anything left or anything to go back to,” it was pragmatic and a bit cold, but Steve never pulled his punches, “its best to cut all ties. The more he relies on Tony, the faster he’ll adapt to his new situation. Maybe its manipulative, but this is a weird situation and we might have to get our hands dirty to get him to a good place, mentally and physically.”

“By weird you mean kidnapping a kid?”

“For his own good!”

“Its only kidnapping until he turns eighteen, right?”

“I don’t think that’s how the concept of kidnapping works, Clint.”

“Excuse me, sir,” JARVIS suddenly interrupted, turning on the lights and turning off the movie, “I believe it is important that you watch the webcam footage I’ve been monitoring. The recording begins as of five minutes ago and is still ongoing.”

“Pull it up, J,” Tony ordered quickly, sitting forward on the couch.

Everyone in the room watched in confusion as the TV began to roll on Peter and stupid fucking Penelope sitting in front of the laptop, most likely at the kitchen table. Peter was slightly off to the side, the computer centered more on his sister.

“Penny, please just tell me what you’ve decided on? I’ve been watching you lose your mind for weeks, I know you came up with something last night.”

“You’re… not going to like it Peter,” fucking Penelope’s voice was soft, the laptop microphone too shitty to pick up the quiet cadence well, “If you can think of something better, we’ll go with that. But… I don’t think there’s another choice. I’ve gone through everything I can think of. Try to let me get through this without yelling at me, okay?”

They’d never really seen Peter and fucking Penelope interact before. Most of the time it was just her, on the laptop, all the fucking time. Peter came and went in the background, to and from school and clubs and his friend’s houses, but most of the time she closed the laptop when he was around. They were all a bit surprised by how much affection was in her expression as she looked at her brother. Peter nodded at her, lips already pursed in frustration.

“I’ve been doing as much research as I can on Tony Stark. He’s… God, he’s got more influence than the fucking president. There are entire states in his pocket, Pete. Can you believe that? From what I can figure out, he’s got just about every New York senator on his payroll and don’t even get me started on the police—”

“How’d she figure that out?” Rhodey’s frown was a mixture of concern and irritation, “There’s never been any sort of reporting on your dealings with politicians.”

“I don’t know.”

“The good news is, I don’t think he has any business in Oregon. I’ve looked through as much of the gossip as I can, he’s never spent any significant amount of time there and if I’ve been understanding the weird ass insinuations correctly, his businesses don’t operate in the area.”

“Oregon? Are we gonna go there?” Peter reached out and grabbed his sister’s hands, “I promise, I’m not upset over us having to move Penny, I—”

“Peter, I’m… I’m not moving babe, you are.”

The teenager seemed to draw back slightly, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth dropping open as he searched for words but was unable to come up with any.

“I don’t think you remember them, the last time we saw them was before mom and dad died, but we have second cousins in Oregon, Paul and Olivia. They’re about ten years older than me, with one kid. When I got custody of you, I contacted them. I wanted to make sure that if something happened to me, I had a sure thing lined up for you. It was years ago, but they promised they’d take you in a heartbeat if I couldn’t care for you anymore, for any reason.”

“You… you wanted to give me to them?” Peter’s eyes were full of tears and they watched as Penelope reacted in horror.

“Peter, no! Never! I would never willingly let you go. I was worried, everyone around us was dropping like flies in freak accidents and I couldn’t let you go into foster care if I died. I just wanted to make sure you would have someone if something happened to me.”

“You thought you were gonna die?”

“My birth father died, and then mom and dad died, then uncle Ben, then aunt May. I didn’t want to leave you alone with no one. I didn’t think I was gonna die, I just… wanted to be prepared. Just in case.”

“Why are you bringing them up? And Oregon? What do you mean that I’m moving? Alone?”

Penelope What the Fuck is Happening Parker’s lips pursed, eyes filling with tears. There was a level of sheer pain on her face that was startling for them all to see, especially considering they’d managed to work her up as an unfeeling monster in their heads for fucking weeks now.

“I’ve tried a thousand ways for us both to go, but I just… I don’t have the money saved for us to move. We’d have to break the lease and even if we left with the clothes on our backs, we wouldn’t be able to afford getting to Oregon. The car won’t make it, I can’t afford plane tickets. I wouldn’t be able to afford to get to Oregon. But I’ve figured out a way to get you there.”

“How Penny?” Peter’s was obviously trying to sound stern, but his voice cracked slightly.

“Not tomorrow, but the day after, we’re going to put in an anonymous call to Child Protective Services and claim that I’m abusing you. Neglecting you. They’ll take you out of my custody and send you to Olivia and Paul, since they’re our ‘closest’ living relatives.” Penelope Oh Fuck Parker’s voice was cracking too, tears running down her face as she explained her batshit crazy plan to her baby brother, who they were quickly realizing was far from neglected or abused.

Tony felt his chest tightening at the sight of the siblings, both with tears streaming down their cheeks. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get it so incredibly wrong. Maybe he’d seen what he wanted to see, that his baby boy was easy pickings. That no one really cared for him so it would be easy to sweep him off his feet and spirit him away.

“You’ve never abused me! You’ve never neglected me! How could you even say that, Penny!? Everything you’ve ever done—”

“Peter please, listen,” Penny was nearly sobbing, grasping Peter’s hands tightly with her entire body angled downwards over them, “We have to pretend, okay? We have to pretend because they’ll send you somewhere safe.”

“You’ll go to jail!”

“That’s fine! That’s okay, Peter! As long as you’re safe, I don’t care—”

“You can’t ask me to do this, you can’t ask me to send you to jail, to send you away when you haven’t done anything wrong, ever! I wouldn’t even be able to visit you! I’d be a million miles away and you’d be rotting away in jail because I was too stupid to mind my own business!”

“Peter none of this is your fault,” the tone was so stern and determined as Penny sat straighter in her chair, squeezing her brother’s hands reassuringly even as her chest heaved with grief, “it’s that fucking pedophile, piece of shit Tony Goddamn Stark’s fault, don’t you ever think that you are at all to blame for any of this—”

“I probably deserve at least half of that rage,” Tony stated absently, almost guilty at the word ‘pedophile’.

“Half? Hah!” It was an absent response, more instinct than intention but got the point across even as the entire group was absorbed by the pain playing out on the TV.

“I went to that stupid tower!” Peter wailed suddenly, making Penny go stiff, “After you got that note telling you not to report the assault, I went to the tower because I knew he worked there and I wanted him to suffer. You wouldn’t go to the police because they threatened your family but I thought… It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was stupid and I went to fucking Stark Tower and that’s where he saw me. It’s all my fault.” Peter’s sobbing was viscerally painful to hear, even through the shitty microphone.

“What assault? A note? JARVIS, figure out what he’s talking about!” Tony barked, already on his feet and pulling out his phone, “Give me the surveillance footage from that day, who was my boy here looking for?!”

“As the conversation is roughly five minutes delayed, I took the liberty of deciphering Mr. Parker’s statements already, sir,” the AI stated calmly, “six months ago, Mr. Brock Rumlow of level six security sexually assaulted Ms. Penelope Parker in a club in Queens. In order to prevent any bad press upon the company, a persuasive letter was sent from the Tower’s security to Ms. Parker to ensure her silence on the matter. I assume the day you came across Mr. Parker was the day he arrived to confront Mr. Rumlow over the assault and threat.”

“Find him,” Tony snarled towards Rhodey, who was already on his feet and typing away at his phone, heading towards the elevator, “Alive, Rhodey!”

“I’ll see what I can manage,” the man muttered darkly as the doors shut and he began descending towards level six, leaving the rest of them in the living room.

“He… he saw you… there? Oh, god… Oh god he saw you because you went to the tower, oh my God you went there because of me and he saw you— Oh my God!” Penny’s reaction was so emotionally brutal that it verged on physically violent. Her entire body seemed to lock up for a solid thirty seconds before she threw herself out of the chair and they could hear retching in the background a moment later. Peter was still sitting on the far side of the screen, sobbing into his hands.

Almost five minutes later, Penny ambled back into view. Her face was so pale compared to her usually tan complexion that she looked like a ghost. A fine tremble ran through her entire body, goosebumps visible on her exposed arms.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter’s voice broke through his sobs, bone achingly sad, “I’m so sorry I did this to us.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, bud,” Penny’s eyes were almost blank, the pain so overwhelming that she couldn’t force any other expression, “I set all of this in motion. I made a mistake and I’m so sorry you’re having to pay for it. I should’ve protected you better, you never should’ve even known what happened, let alone who— it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Everything is going to be okay Peter. We have a plan and everything is going to be alright.”

“You’re going to go to jail, Penny! For a horrible crime that you’d never, ever commit! Because I was stupid and immature and—”

“Stop Peter,” Tony’s eyes watered as Penny gently ran her fingers through Peter’s hair and left it to rest on his cheek, “don’t blame yourself for this. No matter what you did, no matter what choices you made, you didn’t deserve to be frightened and stalked. What’s happening is happening because there’s a man out there with a sick mind, who thinks he can take whatever and whoever he wants for whatever he wants. That’s not on you, babe. That’s on him. And everyone who built him up and let him get to this point.”

She let Peter cry for several minutes and the group in the living room found themselves left to digest the situation to the sound of his sobs. Discomfort ran through all of them, for different reasons. Because they’d judged Penelope Too Good for This World Parker so wrong. Because they were the ones enabling Tony to do something terrible. Because they didn’t actually feel guilty for enabling Tony but they did feel guilty for the pain it was causing the Parker siblings.

“You’ll take such good care of him, Tony,” Natasha said quietly after a moment, seeing the pain in the man’s face, “He’s never going to want for anything ever again. He’s going to live in comfort and luxury for the rest of his life and that’s because of you.”

“He’s scared right now, Tones,” Clint jumped in quickly when it looked like Tony might protest, “They both are and we can’t blame them for that. But once they’re—he’s here, he’ll realize that it’s not a bad thing and that he has nothing to be afraid of. That we’re going to take care of them—him, all of us.”

Mind running at a million times per hour, Tony considered their words. Actually, he considered Clint’s words. Clint’s misspoken statements that implied both Parker siblings would be in the tower. Both of them would be safe and cared for. Both.

“They’ll never want for anything ever again,” Tony repeated quietly, all eyes in the room locked carefully on him, “Peter and Penny shouldn’t be separated.”

“You’ve given up everything for me, Penny,” Peter whispered after his cries calmed, “You dropped out of high school, dropped out of college, started working three jobs so I could go to that stupid school, you don’t sleep, you hardly eat, and I know it’s all for me. I can’t let you give up your freedom, I can’t let you give up anything else for me.”

“Oh my God no wonder she’s so skinny,” Wanda suddenly gasped, tears pouring down her cheeks in continuous rivers, “we thought Peter was skinny, but look at her, look at her collar bones! JARVIS, give me a record of all credit and debit card transactions she’s made in the last month and—” The redhead cut herself off when Penny began speaking again.

“All I want is for you to be happy Peter,” Penny whispered, the blank look in her eyes fading into grief again, “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. You’re everything to me, you’re my baby brother. I’ll do anything to keep you safe, bud, anything.”

“I won’t do it, Penny, I won’t—”

“Yes, you will, Peter,” resolve hardened Penny’s voice and she squeezed her brother’s hands, “You’re going to do as I say. Tomorrow you’re going to go to school and I’m going to call out of work. I’m going to throw most of your clothes away, all of the food in the house. I’m going to switch my stuff for yours, so it looks like I make you sleep on the couch while I take the bedroom.”

“Oh God she does sleep on the couch every night,” Professional Perfect Person Penelope Parker Stalker Clint Barton gasped in horror as he recalled his earlier comment on her sleeping habits and her undressing habits oh no.

“I’m going to trash the place as authentically as I can and I’m… God I’m going to destroy some of your stuff, Pete,” Penny looked pained at the thought, scraping a hand down her face, “But I’m going to transfer all of my savings into your name, so you’ll only be without your stuff for a little while. You can rebuy everything you need once this is over.”

“I can’t take your money, Pen—”

“Hush Peter. I don’t have much saved up, but I’ll put it under your name tomorrow. Now, when I turn 25 in a few months I’ll be able to use my portion of the money mom and dad left us. I’m going to transfer that to you as soon as I can, it should be enough for you to live off of once you turn 18 as long as you use it wisely.”

“Penny, please, you can’t expect—”

“I expect you to do as I say, Peter!” She cut him off with all the flare of a bossy big sister, “I want you to apply to universities outside of the United States. Focus on places like Norway, Australia and New Zealand. Avoid Mexico, Canada and the UK because I think he has business dealings in those countries and I don’t know how long he’ll be willing to search for you, so don’t risk it.”

“How does she know about our business in those places?” Tony threw his hands up in confusion.

“Sir, from what I can gather from Ms. Parker’s search history, she has done her best to track yours and your staff’s movements around the world for the last five or so years by means of social media and gossip blogs—”

“Well holy fuck, who would’ve thought to do that?” Sam’s eyebrows were raised nearly to his hairline, “that’s ridiculous, no wonder she was on the laptop constantly.”

“Once you turn 25 you’ll come into your inheritance too. By that time I’ll probably be out of jail but… Peter I want you to leave me alone, okay? We don’t know… we don’t know if Stark will let this go, if he loses you. He might use my location and contacts to find you and I can’t let that happen.”

“You want me to just cut you out of my life forever? Like you’re some horrible monster I never want to see again? I can’t—”

“We don’t have a choice bud,” Penny was quiet, soothing as she ran her fingers over his wrists and hands, “Tony Stark is a dangerous man and he has more connections and money than we could ever hope to fight. The police won’t help us, the law won’t help us. All we have is this plan and I need you to follow it. I need to be able to trust that you’ll follow the plan, so that you’ll be safe.”

“What about you, Penny!? You won’t be safe! You’re always so worried about, about me being safe and happy that you forget about yourself! Do you understand that you’re telling me you want to go to jail? That you want me to abandon you forever?”

Penny seemed to waiver for just a second, as if she might actually let some tiny ounce of selfishness set in and change her mind, before her resolve hardened once again and she stood, putting herself nearly out of frame, “This is happening, Peter. This is the plan. This is what we’re doing. Because I won’t let him hurt you. I will literally do anything to keep you safe Peter, this doesn’t even make a wave in the pool of batshit crazy I’m willing to go if I need to. I love you. Now go to bed, you have school in the morning.”

[jovialecho]

Comeuppance

Rahzel decides to hit Troy up, telling him to head to the bar tonight rather than Sunday. He asks why it even matters what day, bringing up how eager and impatient Rahzel is to collect a soul.

“You might not even win the games.”

So sure of himself. It makes Rahzel’s blood boil and his eyes roll involuntarily. He urges the other to meet him at the corner of it anyway, and with enough fussing, Troy teleports over.

“Tonight,” The demon starts, walking over to Troy, grabbing his shoulder. “because tomorrow, they ain’t stay open as late. Drinks ain’t up and handed out as late either.”

Troy peels Rahzel’s hand off him, shaking his head. “We came to play, not get drunk. Stupid shit happens when you drink-”

“When I drink???” Rahzel guffaws and puts his hand on Troy’s shoulder again, leading him to the building, “Don’t be acting all innocent. You just as dumb when you blitzed.”

The other doesn’t bother with taking the hand off, walking past the double doors, immediately greeted with laughter and music. The pair head off to the new gaming side.

“Ah sick.” Rahzel latches onto an air hockey table, grinning wide. He looks up at Troy when he follows close by him.

“Been a hot fuckin’ minute since i done played this-” Troy finishes his sentence for him. “-Since the one in your room quit worker? Yeah. Funny how that one doesn’t work anymore. I don’t think we should play this one. I don’t think I’m for seeing the rage you’re always talking about.”

Rahzel watches Troy slip towards the nearest billiards table, instead.

“So we immediately going in, no drinks? No funny shit? No games for the fuck of it?” He watches Troy as he pays for the balls and places them into the rack. It doesn’t take long at all for him to get bored, “Aight, well. I’m gonna go get us some sodas or something, dude, just get the game set up.”

As Rahzel heads to the bar, he listens to passing conversations from the other few people in the booths. He heads for the barkeep, listening out the snacks and drinks he wants, taking a seat so he can wait for them.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, so he pulls it out to have a quick look, turning his head to see if Troy was texting from the pool table. Nope. Once in his device, he opens the texts, seeing it’s from...Rudy. Great. His favorite guy! What overrated nonsense is he going to spill? Deep breath, Rahzel. Alright, he’s ready for the headache.

With another roll of his eyes, Rahzel pockets his phone and collects the food he paid for, making his way back towards Troy, though now he finds himself looking around for anyone paying him any attention. Luckily, nobody has the guts to look his way, so he carries on, ready to try to win a soul, MAYBE fair and square.

~~~~~

From one game to 4, Rahzel found himself on the losing end far too many times to accept. He’s never been one to swallow his pride in anything, let alone gambling, or games in general. 

Yet, as he leans against the bar, scowling, he can’t help but find a hint of amusement in the fact Troy bested him more times than not at a game Rahzel had to help him be better at. Maybe the kid his destined for something great-- Yes, Rahzel picks that up just from playing pool, because that’s definitely a useful life skill.

A hand on his shoulder pulls him out of his grouchy headspace and he turns his attention back to Troy. He’s surprised to see he isn’t smiling.

“What’s up? You won? Ain’t that enough?”

Troy pats him on the back, “As long as you aren’t going to hole up in your room for a week because of it, sure. It’s enough. I’m sure you’ll find someone better to make your first deal with. ...Maybe I’ll even change my mind down the road. Who knows, man. Just figure out what you’re best at offering first before making a mess with your words.”

Rahzel downs the last of his rum and coke before slipping off the barstool.

“Let’s go get some ice cream or something.” He walks right for the doors, ignoring whatever logic Troy decides to spew his way.

“Rahzel there’s no place open!” The brunette follows the lanky troll out of the bar, doing his best to keep up with the pace, “Dude. No place! There is noooo place!”

Rahzel stretches, groaning, “There’s ALWAYS a place, dude. Don’t worry. We going on a motherfuckin journey, dogg.”

Before he gets much further, a voice stops him. He looks ahead of himself to see a familiar face. Oh, it’s that biker again. Time for eye roll number 4 tonight...or was it 5. Rahzel puts his arms down and sighs, hearing Troy stop behind him.

He notices there are three others behind the familiar biker and he scoffs. Is this really happening?

“’ey. What’s good, man? You still pissed about that shit I TRIED to fix?”

The only response he gets at first is a scowl before the bearded biker takes a step forward, the others following in a synchronized fashion. Ew. It’s a posse.

“Yeah, I am. But this is strictly business, mostly.”

Rahzel puts a hand on his hip, raising an eyebrow to emphasize how little he cared, but also prompted him to continue, “Aight?”

He’s quick to notice any movement the biker makes and sees him pull out a handgun. Two of his lackeys follow suit, three guns aimed directly at him.

The demon can’t help but let out a laugh, both of surprise and fresh amusement. The lost deal completely forgotten now.

“Holy shit you really ain’t smart at ALL.” Rahzel can’t tell if he’s goading them or not at this point, though he surely is annoyed but what he perceives as an inconvenience more than anything else at this point.

“You’re gonna shoot me? You do. All four of ya are dead. You don’t know what the fuck ya dealing with, dude.

The lackey in the back starts to look between everyone, seemingly uncertain about what’s transpiring in front of him.

“Even one of ya own ain’t solid on this shit. Grow the fuck up.” Rahzel takes a step forward to further show his lack of concern for his own safety. “You ain’t big. You ain’t tough. You full of shit if you think you can take me on with a gun. I’ll get the fuck back up and find ya ass and rip you a new asshole. Ugly ass bitches you think-”

The leader aims, getting heated faster than Rahzel anticipated.

“I bet you goddamn drunk as shit, too. Put your gun down motherfucker. You’ll regret this shit, for sure.” Casually he reaches for the gun, only to have it immediately discharge into his arm. The sound startles him more than the actual bullet in his arm. “Gh-!”

Troy pushes himself in front of Rahzel, arms up.

“Stop! Stop! We don’t have to do this. Whoa-”

Rahzel reaches for Troy’s shoulder, hissing. “Troy st-”

The next gunshot makes Rahzel’s ears ring worse than before,  but his focus is on how Troy’s head jerks back, and it’s immediately obvious where the shot landed as blood, not his own color, lands on his shirt. As if time itself slowed down, Rahzel watches as Troy drops to the ground like a ragdoll, partially falling against him.

He doesn’t breathe in that moment, the reality not quite setting in. It all happened too fast. What the Hell is even actually happening. Shot. Troy. Troy’s been shot. Rahzel glances down some, seeing the bullet hole in Troy’s forehead.

Dead? Killed.

A hue of purple colors his vision as he looks upward at the group, the lackey on the right looking the most guilty. Yet, his attention falls on the leader as his gun raises again, no remorse on his face.

Rahzel’s mouth opens and all that comes out is screaming. From being frozen in place to suddenly lunging forward, nobody suspected the guy to just fling himself right at the biker. He knocks him to his back, growling and screaming at him, another gunshot hitting him in the chest, then another. He doesn’t let that stop him as he spits out honks and drool at the same instance, face diving right into the biker’s throat. The tendons and cords don’t stand a chance against his teeth and he sinks in, ripping out flesh, muscle. A mess of red cascades down his face and chin.

It’s immediately spat back out, and another shot, though ignored again, is sent into Rahzel’s back.  He stops himself from going back in for another bite, letting the shell of a man bleed out slowly, or suffocate on blood. A quick turn sends him in the direction of the next two. He gives zero fucks with how scared they look, he’s off his shit. All he can think about is Troy. How dead he is.

The demon’s running leaves the two to back away, still taking aim and firing, missing only a few times, though it doesn’t seem to slow Rahzel down at all.

“HOOOONK!”

With a quick burst of flashstepping, he ends up right in front of the two, still running. His hands grab at both of their faces,throwing them down into the asphalt at the same time.

A few more bullets are sent into him, his neck catches one for dinner later. All the pain is set aside as he kneels down with the lackeys’ heads in his hands. Simultaneously, he lifts and bashes the back of their heads into the pavement, listening to their muffled pleas and threats. He keeps going, unable to parse the difference of the bashing with the heartbeat in his ears.

Dead. Dead. He wants them all just as dead as--

He drops the two when there is no more sign of life left in them. Rahzel stands up slowly, bringing the two guns from the corpses with him as he searches for the last one. Down the street, he can see him running away, and Rahzel also notices a crowd gathering around to observe this spectacle.

He doesn’t give a fuck. He takes off running, using his flashstepping until he’s close enough to stop and aim, using a gun for the first time in either lives he recalls. He closes one eye and starts shooting, missing once with one gun and finally hitting the guy in the back with the second gun. He tosses the useless hunks of metal away, making his way over to the squirming lackey.

His hearing is coming back and he listens to the pleading and crying through the faded ringing in his ears.

“I didn’t want a- FFuuck I DIdn’T WANT ANY PART OF THIS! Please don’t. I don’t wanna die. Not like this. Not this young.”

Rahzel kneels and turns the man on his back, reveling in his scream of pain. With his claws he swipes his hand across his throat, successfully slitting it, but not enough blood comes out, so he does it once more, before standing up and hobbling over towards the pile that is Troy.

He has to be careful- He could still be- He sees Troy’s eyes open and his chest tightens.

Fuck.

He kneels, the pain starting to make its way past the numbing rage. He gently closes Troy’s eyes, noticing how bad his own hand is shaking. No, no. no. He scoops him up slowly, taking him in his arms bridal style.

No.

No, no.

He can’t decide which pain is worse, the ones in his body or the one in his heart.

Heart. He decides it’s his heart as his eyes well up with tears. The dead weight in his arms only amplifies the pain.

Distant sounds of sirens pulls his eyes off Troy for a moment. The crowd outside has grown larger, shocked faces staring at him. At what he's done. What about what they did?

Rahzel stumbles away towards an alleyway, but he doesn't fall. He can't. There's no way he can drop Troy. He has to take him home.

Troy.

He never got his soul. It's gone.

Rahzel drops to his knees, sobbing in both anger and despair, lungs fighting against this action thanks to the new holes in them.

"FF-Hhhghk!"

He gurgles on the blood coming up from his lungs, looking down at Troy again. "Mh.."

His captchalogue modus opens and he looks up at it. Troy would fit perfectly in the free slot. He looks from the slot down to Troy’s face, past the blood. He has to go in there.

Just for a while, okay?

He’s captchalogued in an instant, leaving Rahzel freedom to pull out the portable transportalizer, his vision darkening at the corners of his eyes. His focus fades in and out as he slaps the button to the last location on the device. He’s sent into another world, another universe and spat out right in front of his cave’s entrance.

Dropping to his knees in the sand, Rahzel looks around at the familiar territory, then up towards the house, Simon’s house. He crawls that way, every movement causing him to wheeze and ache. Sand sticks to his pants thanks to the collection of blood on his clothes. His lungs, filled with blood instead of air, makes it hard to really breathe, doesn’t it?

“Ghk..kkh.”

As his vision continues to darken, Rahzel becomes more frantic to get to the house. He can’t pass out, not now- No, this isn’t passing out. He knows the difference and this is most certainly dying. No way can he die on this fucking sandy hill. Pathetic. Though, seeing how he’s crying and bleeding everywhere on his way up, it’s hard not to be seen as pathetic.

C’mon Rahzel, you’re only thirty feet from the door. Twenty. Ten.

He uses the doorknob to push himself to his feet, wheezing again from the sheer effort. With his fading strength, he slaps his palm against the door repeatedly, moving to lean on the frame instead of the doorknob. Wouldn’t want to just fall right into someone, right?

Rahzel’s legs feel like rubber as he keeps himself standing for as long as he can. His ears twitch as he hears the doorknob turn. When he sees Simon, he notices the face journey she has as she looks him over. He heaves out another cry, shuddering weakly as he brings himself to stand up straighter.

His voice, hoarse and scratching from the bullet that tore into his throat as well as from the blood making its way up it, comes out barely above a whisper, and he can only push out one word, his consciousness fading in and out.

“M.. mom..?”

Everything goes black for him as he falls forward almost right on top of Simon.

Good job dropping dead in front of your mom, asshole.

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 25 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters. xoxo!

Chapter Summary: Grease finishes its illustrious run, and we end the school year with Prom and a group trip to the movies.

TW: homophobia

Chapter 25: Hopelessly Devoted To You

Despite their opening night drama, the rest of the weekend’s performances of Grease went off without a hitch. The principal agreed to beef up security and they kept would-be protestors far away from the theatre - so after 2 days they got bored and stopped showing up.

And, possibly because of all the controversy, ticket sales soared, and they ended up getting a write-up in the Arts section of a big San Gabriel Valley newspaper.

Alyssa was so jazzed by the extra attention that she began to ham it up even more than she had during rehearsals. One night, during the drive-in scene, she hit Roy so hard one night that he had a bruise the next day.

“Where are the fucking protesters for THAT?!” Roy whined, as he got ready that night.

“I mean, you were trying to date rape her,” Courtney reasoned.

“NO I WASN’T!” Roy screeched. “My character was! Why should I get a bruise for something he does?! This is reverse sexism!”

“Awwww…” Courtney soothed, climbing into his lap. “Poor baby…”

“Reverse sexism,” Darienne chuckled to herself, “Like that’s a thing.”

“It is!” Roy insisted.

Courtney kissed his cheek, teasingly saying, “I know, it’s so hard to be a sensitive male these days.”

“It really is,” he whimpered, resting his head on her chest.

“Oh, BOO HOO!” Alyssa crowed from nearby. “Listen, you just watch out the next time Danny tries to touch my girl without consent. I’ll break your goddamn fingers!”

“Alyssa…” Darienne laughed, shaking her head. “I think you’re going off book, here.”

“I think she’s going off the fucking deep end!” Roy said. “Anyone got a straightjacket?”

Alyssa grinned devilishly at him, making some punching motions in the air.

Roy nuzzled against Courtney’s neck. “You’re still her understudy, right? Can we have her killed?”

-

ADORE: You coming to the diner?

PEARL: Yeah, I just have to finish up here first. Order me some fries?

ADORE: You got it.

Pearl tucked her phone back into her pocket, turning her attention to the backdrops. She had to stay a little longer than the cast after the show was over to help reset all the set pieces for the next night. Most of the cast and crew had left, waiting for their rides or making their way to a nearby diner for post-show bonding.

Pearl unlocked the wheels of the drive-in set, pulling the backdrop behind her as she headed to the wings, accidentally running over her own foot in the process.

“Motherfucker,” Pearl groaned, reaching down to rub her throbbing foot.

“Need some help?” Shea appeared from behind the backdrop, catching Pearl by surprise.

“Shea? Hey! Uh, yeah I could use some help,” Pearl nodded, the pain in her foot completely forgotten.

“We're gonna leave it right here,” Pearl guided, nodding to the other backdrop already tucked away.

“Here?”

“Yep, now just lock the wheel on that side. I'll do this one.” Pearl quickly locked the wheel then glanced up to see Shea bent over, face scrunched in confusion. “It’s… it’s right there.”

Pearl walked over to her and bent down, showing her how to lock the wheel.

“You just… and it’s locked,” she smiled.

“Oh,” Shea nodded, gazing up into her eyes before clearing her throat. “Easier than it looked.”

She straightened up, then followed Pearl back to the stage to grab some of the Burger Palace pieces.

“Mhm,” Pearl nodded, gesturing to the booth that they needed to move. “This one slides pretty easily.”

Shea helped her work, biting her lip every time they locked eyes.  

“The show’s been going well,” Shea said finally, looking at Pearl with earnest brown eyes.

“Yeah, people wanted to see what all the hoopla was about after the first night,” Pearl shrugged, brushing her hands off and looking around to see if anything else needed to be moved before tomorrow.

“Hoopla?” Shea brows furrowed in confusion before letting a laugh escape her.

“Yeah, you know, all the commotion, the hoopla.” Pearl’s hand swirled in the air nonchalantly, but the moment Shea burst in laughter, Pearl found herself giggling along.

“Who actually uses the word ‘hoopla' besides someone's grandpa?” Shea shook her head, following Pearl towards the exit, shoulders brushing together as they walked.

“I don't know, I don't know… I watched Spongebob the other day. Really, I've never used that word until now,” Pearl said, turning towards Shea as they approached the big double doors.

“Wow, Hoopla. I should start using that word. It's fun to say,” Shea giggled.

“It is,” Pearl chuckled, then bit down on her bottom lip, her gaze moving to Shea’s full lips.

Shea noticed, her own laughter fading off.

Pearl’s heart leaped to her throat as the silence between them filled with an energy she'd only encountered a few times before. She put one hand on the heavy door, and Shea did the same, their fingers bumping.

Eyes snapped to each other, gauging the other’s reaction. Pearl’s tongue darted across her lip as she leaned towards Shea, eyes flickering between glossed lips and wide eyes.

“Shea!”

The sound of Sasha’s voice had Shea stumbling back, right into a rack of costumes, a small gasp leaving her lips.

Pearl frowned, reaching to help her, but when her hands were swatted away, she backed up letting Shea have her space.

“Shea, you back here? Shea?” Sasha rounded the curtain, footsteps stuttering when she saw Pearl running her fingers through her thick blonde hair, looking at Shea with nervous eyes, while Shea hurriedly righted the wardrobe rack, re-hanging the pieces that had fallen off the hangers.

-

In a bizarre compromise with her mother, Darienne had been allowed to stay in the show despite the “evil pro-gay message” but not participate in any of the fun stuff, like going to the diner after the performances with the rest of the cast and crew.

Courtney had just been texting her a sympathetic message when she looked up. Bob was in the middle of an animated story, while Roy interjected with corrections and insults, as per usual. But what Courtney noticed wasn’t the boys, but how Adore sat in a booth nearby, staring into space.

She decided to take advantage of this rare moment while Raja was distracted at the jukebox with Raven, and squeezed her bestie on the shoulder to grab her attention.

“Hey...”

“What’s up?” Adore asked, giving her a half-smile, biting down on a fry.

“You were great tonight. I mean, you’re always great, but…” Courtney gave her a bright smile.

Adore swallowed. “Thanks. Um, you too.”

Courtney slid into the booth beside her, wrapping her arms around her waist and looking up at her with loving eyes.

“You’re so beautiful…”

“Alright, who gave you weed?” Adore scoffed. “Willam? Pearl?”

“Nobody! I’m totally sober. You’re just pretty, that’s all.”

“Well...thanks,” Adore bit her lip.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Courtney asked, lashes fluttering.

“Uh. Of course. You’re stunning. Gorgeous. A living doll.” Adore glanced around helplessly. Where was Raja? Where was Roy?

Courtney giggled and nuzzled her cheek.

“What’s going on over here?” Raja asked, strolling up.

Before Adore could open her mouth, Courtney piped up, “Not much, I was just molesting your girlfriend.” She smiled coyly, head still on Adore’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah?” Raja sat down. “Seems reasonable.”

“Courtney, knock it off!” Adore said, shrugging her off.

Raja snickered, saying, “Oh yeah, you looked like you were really suffering there.”

Adore folded her arms crossly.

“Dory, don’t be mad…” Courtney pouted.

“Yeah Dory, don’t be mad.” Raja reached over to steal a French fry, brow arched suggestively.

“Ugh, you both suck!” Adore said, getting up and stomping over to the counter.

Courtney opened her mouth, eyes wide and innocent. “What?!”

Raja laughed, shaking her head. “Just let her sulk. Have some fries.”

-

After closing night, there was a wrap party at Pearl’s house, complete with Karaoke machine, mini strobe lights, and sundae bar. Or as Willam lovingly dubbed it, “the ultimate nerd fest.”

Pearl sat on top of her kitchen counter, nodding her head to the beat of the music, watching the party around her as she sipped from her cup of punch.

“Pearl!” Sasha smiled as she entered the kitchen to get some snacks, pulling the blonde’s attention away from Shangela and Alyssa’s karaoke performance.

“Sup,” she nodded.

“What’re you doing in here by yourself?” Sasha asked, crumbling a handful of potato chips over her chocolate ice cream, then topped the whole thing with caramel sauce.

“Just chilling,” Pearl shrugged, then gestured to Sasha’s sundae. “That’s genius.”

“Salty and sweet,” Sasha nodded and the two girls went silent for a moment as she dug in.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Pearl leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

“Sure.” Sasha nodded.

“Um…I’m usually a pretty good judge of when I like, vibe with a girl. And…and I really like Shea, and sometimes it seems like she likes me back. But then…I don’t know, sometimes I feel like I’m totally barking up the wrong tree. Am I crazy?”

“Well…” Sasha took a small bite of her ice cream, head titled thoughtfully. “We haven’t talked about it. And if we had, I wouldn’t tell you, because, you know, BFF trust.”

“Of course.”

“But, just from what I’ve seen…I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The thing is…” Sasha paused. “She's not like you. I mean, she’s still probably figuring some things out.”

Pearl nodded knowingly; Shea wouldn't be the first confused (or closeted) girl she had a crush on.

“So as long as you get that she’s in a different place, and you’re careful of her feelings…I don’t think you’re barking up the wrong tree. I just think you might need to be extra patient. You know?”

“Yeah.” Pearl nodded, taking another sip of her drink. “Thanks.”

“No problem. And, in case you’re wondering, she’s out by the pool. Last I saw, she was talking to Carmen and Laganja.

“Awesome.” Pearl flashed a smile, hopping off the counter.

-

“Adore, you wanna do ‘Bidi Bidi Bom Bom,’ or ‘No Me Queda Más’?” April asked, flipping through the karaoke book.

“Uhhh…” Adore paused, eyeing Courtney and Roy on the sofa before looking back at April to suggest, “What about ‘Dreaming of You’?”

April scoffed. “Omigod, you’re so basic! That’s her whitest song, you fuckin’ gringa!”

“Well, I don’t really speak Spanish, dude, sorry!” Adore defended herself with a shrug. “You know that.”

“Okay, fine, ‘Dreaming of You.’ But will you at least try ‘No Me Queda Más’?”

“I’ll do my best.”

April nodded, writing down the track numbers and handing them to Bob, who was lording over the rented karaoke machine with an iron fist. “Sir, please?”

While Adore waited for their turn, her attention drifted back to Courtney, curled in Roy’s lap, feeding him her ice cream sundae. They’d been sickeningly sweet all night, and while Adore was trying to ignore their nauseatingly adorable antics, it was proving harder and harder.

“I have no idea why I’m eating this,” Roy murmured, licking a drip off Courtney’s finger. “I don’t even like vanilla.”

“That’s funny, ‘cause I think a vanilla sundae is the perfect metaphor for you two dweebs,” Willam called from across the room, causing Bob to snicker and high five him.

“Fuck off!” Courtney shouted back. “I put rainbow sprinkles on it. And this cherry.” She lifted the maraschino cherry out by the stem, twirling it on her tongue.

“Give me that…” Roy said.

“Oh, you want this?” Courtney teased, batting her lashes. She glanced over to see if Adore was watching, feeling a rush of adrenaline from the other girl’s eyes on her.

“Yes. Please baby, give me your cherry…”

Courtney giggled, dangling it in front of him tauntingly. “Say please again, tell me how much you want it…” she breathed.

Unable to take it anymore, Adore got up, utterly disgusted, and stalked outside.

“Adore! Come back, we’re up next!” April called.

“Raincheck,” Adore grumbled, slamming the sliding glass door behind her.

Courtney paused, holding the cherry mid-air, wondering if she’d gone too far. She wanted Adore’s attention, but not to piss her off.

“Babyyy,” Roy whimpered.

“Here,” Courtney said, shoving the cherry into his mouth and letting out a disappointed sigh.

-

Adore found Raja out on the patio with Jinkx, smoking and drinking. She went up to Raja and demanded a cigarette.

“You don’t smoke,” the older girl told her breezily.

“I do tonight,” she insisted.

Raja handed Adore her lit cigarette and lit another for herself, watching her carefully. Adore looked over at Jinkx, holding a bottle of Jack Daniels, and snatched it out of her hands, taking a long slug, then another.

“You okay there, tiger?” Jinkx asked.

Adore wiped her mouth, shrugging. Pearl and Shea were sitting on top of a retaining wall, just a few feet away. Adore looked over at them just as Shea whispered something to Pearl, both laughing softly. Adore narrowed her eyes, irritated.

“What’s with you two?” she asked hoarsely. “Are you like, fucking now?”

Shea’s eyes widened in shock.

“Adore!” Pearl cried, horrified.

“Um, I have to...I should probably get going...it’s late and I need...uh…” Shea stammered, sliding down and backing away.

“Shea, I’m sorry, you don’t have to go, you can-” Pearl protested.

“No, it’s fine, I should have left earlier anyway, but...I’ll see you around, okay?” She turned around, hurrying from the yard through the side gate.

Pearl turned towards Adore, irritated, as shrieking laughter sounded from the pool.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Pearl began.

Nearby, Raven’s voice called out, “Raja! Come here!!”

Raja looked over to the pool, where Raven was fooling around with a bunch of kids and some massive flotation devices, then back at Adore. She took Jinkx by the hand and dragged her over to the pool, leaving Adore and Pearl alone on the patio.

Adore sighed, pulling her flannel tighter around herself. Despite it being May, there was a chill in the air.

Pearl watched her for a few moments before saying, “Alright. Out with it. What’s going on?”

“What?” Adore asked defensively.

“There’s only one thing that puts you in this kind of mood, so what? They do some gross hetero promise ring bullshit? He banging her out in one of the back bedrooms? Tell me.”

Adore sighed. “No, they’re just...eating an ice cream sundae.”

“Oh yeah,” Pearl nodded. “I can see why that would send you over the edge.”

“You weren’t there.”

“True.”

“It was really...too much.” Adore sighed again, taking another drag of the cigarette.

“Have you ever considered just telling her how you feel?”

“About as much as I’ve considered putting this cigarette out in my own eye,” Adore replied.

“Gotcha.”

“This is disgusting, by the way.”

Pearl nodded. “Yeah, it’s awful. Takes years off your life, too.”

“Ugh. Fuck this whole fucking night, man.”

Pearl moved closer to her, put a hand on her shoulder.

“Listen. I’m sorry you’re having a rough night. And you know, I really love you, and I’m always here if you want to talk. But...if you ever fuck up my game again, I will punch you in the face.”

Adore laughed and covered her eyes. “Shit. Sorry.”

Pearl kissed her forehead. “It’s alright. You get one pass.”

-

Adore sat on the retaining wall, holding the empty bottle of Jack, feeling slightly dizzy and more than a little sick. Her downcast eyes were dull with regret.

“So…fun party, huh?”

She looked up to see Raja standing there, with that typical, aloof expression, and her body tensed up, tears filling her eyes.

“Raja, don’t. I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I just, I can’t, I can’t explain, I don’t-”

“Hey, hey, I’m not asking you to explain anything.” Raja stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Adore sniffled, guilt filling her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m also not asking you to apologize. We all have shitty days. It’s fine. Yesterday I kicked over a trash can and called Raven a cow.”

“Seriously?” Adore laughed, amused in spite of her shitty mood.

“It’s fine, she deserved it.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Adore wiped her eyes.

Raja smiled. “You wanna get out of here?”

“God, yes.”

“Cool.” She took her fingers and gently tilted Adore’s chin up, placing a soft, sweet kiss on her lips. “You really are so beautiful, you know that?”

Adore sighed. “Sure you’re not just looking at your own reflection in my eyeballs?”

Raja grasped both of her cheeks and looked closer at her face. “Holy shit! How have I never seen my own reflection before?”

Adore giggled.

“Hold still! Oh my god, she is stunning!”

“Stop it.”

Raja helped her down and led them towards the gate, an arm slung around Adore’s shoulders.

“Seriously, I don’t know how you manage to concentrate on anything with all this staggering beauty in front of you…”

-

Courtney stood at the stove, stirring a pot of tomato sauce, as Adore perched on the counter. They were discussing prom—or rather, Raja’s prom, which Adore was having second thoughts about attending.

“Don’t you think that she should understand how you feel? I mean you were basically hate-crimed on stage,” Courtney said.  

“Well. I think she does understand, but on the other hand…it’s her prom. And I said I’d go, like a month ago,” Adore reasoned.

“But that was a month ago,” Courtney said. “Come here, taste this.”

Adore jumped down, sighing, and walked over to her.

“I don’t know. I mean, yeah, it was a month ago. But…”

Courtney blew on the wooden spoon, cupping Adore’s chin gently in her hand. She fed her a small taste of the sauce, eyes watching her carefully.

“Do you think it’s too spicy?” she whispered.

Closing her eyes for a moment as Courtney’s fingers brushed against her cheek, a thrill rippling through her at the contact, Adore shook her head.

“No, it...it’s good.” She cleared her throat and took a few steps back. “Um, maybe a pinch more salt?”

“Thanks.” Courtney nodded and went back to the stove, humming slightly. “I think you should do whatever you feel comfortable with. She may be a little bummed if you decide not to go, but Raja doesn’t seem like the type to make a huge deal over prom anyway. Right?”

“Yeah, I...I mean that’s what I thought, but...I dunno.” Adore sighed again, sitting down heavily at the table. “I just really don’t want to make this a big fucking thing.”

Courtney sat down beside her. “So don’t.”

“But isn’t that selling out? Letting the bigots win?” Adore’s voice broke, remembering the heated conversation with Raja earlier that day.

Courtney scooted her chair closer, biting her lip, a slight guilt washing over her. She knew that if she didn’t have ambivalent feelings about Raja, about Adore’s moony-eyed puppy love, the was a chance she might be saying something slightly different. Maybe. But ulterior motives aside, she didn’t like to see her friend so torn up inside. She reached out and took Adore’s hand.

“Listen. Will you have to stand up to these kind of assholes someday? Yeah, probably. And when you do, I’ll stand up with you. But does it have to be over someone else’s prom? This week? Not unless you want. It’s still your life. You are the only one who can make that decision.”

Adore nodded. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Courtney brushed a lock of hair off of Adore’s face

-

ADORE: Well. Turns out I was being a total pissbaby drama queen. It was just a fucking dance, no one said a word.

ADORE: Like, literally, nothing happened and I feel like a complete asshole.

COURTNEY: So you had fun?

ADORE: Yeah. I mean, you know. It was a school dance. It wasn’t life-changing or anything. Lol. But sure, it was fun.

ADORE: I might just not be a school dance type. I don’t have a lot of...like...spirit.

COURTNEY: Well, yeah, duh. ;P

ADORE: lol

COURTNEY: <3

ADORE: I’m gonna sleep now but wanna hang out later?

COURTNEY: Sure. Text me when you wake up.

ADORE: Ok. XO

COURTNEY: XO

-

Adore wasn’t positive why she agreed to this. Granted, she always used to be part of the group movie night expeditions with the neighborhood crew, but ever since she’d branched off and started to hang out with Violet’s group, she’d found one excuse or another to say no. But for some reason, today, she found herself in the local multiplex with Courtney, Roy, Darienne, Thorgy, Bob, April, Alyssa, and Jamin - who she supposed was off probation now that Darienne could stand to be around him again. To make matters worse, they had collectively decided on the most basic of all basic movies - some superhero action nonsense starring Christian Bale and Joey from Dawson’s Creek, who was way less cool when stripped of her Joey vocabulary words.

Adore sighed, sipping her swimming pool sized soda. At least Roy, in a show of macho bravado, had offered to pay for her and Courtney’s snacks. So she had gigantic popcorn, 2 Kit Kat bars, Junior Mints, Twizzlers, Sour Patch Kids, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups to help her get through the experience. It cost her some side-eye, but whatever. If he was dumb enough to make that offer, then he should be prepared to handle the consequences.

It would have been nice if Raja could have made it, but as usual, she was working. It seemed like lately, the only time they had together was super late at night after CeCe’s closed down. She couldn’t blame her girlfriend - she knew that Raja was saving up to get her own place. But still, it was a little annoying to be sandwiched between April and Bob on one side (who she was pretty sure were engaging in some kind of gross hand job action under Bob’s letterman jacket), and Courtney and Roy on the other, cuddling and making Adore want to vomit, as usual.

Courtney turned towards Adore, a contented smile on her face.

“I am totally not following the plot of this movie,” she whispered, giggling.

Adore rolled her eyes. “It’s not that deep. He’s afraid of bats. He becomes a bat. Joey Potter loves him for some inexplicable reason.”

“Right. I keep thinking there must be more to it though?”

“Nope.”

Courtney inched closer to Adore.

“This theatre is freezing. Share your jacket with me.” She gazed over with a pouty face, fluttering her lashes.

Adore shrugged her off. It was one thing when they were alone, but when she pulled this kind of stuff in front of other people, it always made Adore extremely self-conscious. It was a total lose-lose for her. If she reacted too eagerly, it would be totally obvious to everyone and their mother how hard she was crushing on her best friend, but when she pushed her away, she had to deal with those hurt puppy eyes.

“Get off, bitch…”

“Please, Dory. I’ll be your best friend forever and-”

“SHHH!” Bob hissed.

“How are you not more relaxed right now?” Adore challenged, gesturing to his lap. April’s eyes went wide in embarrassment. Adore smirked and sat back in her seat.

“Babe, come here. You can wear my jacket.”

Courtney snuggled up to Roy, lovingly placing a piece of popcorn in his mouth. What was it with Courtney and feedinghim? Was that like a kink thing? Adore shook her head. Sick. She sighed again, shifting uncomfortably. It was possible that the largest size soda wasn’t the best idea.

On the screen, Joey Potter was reaching towards Christian Bale, drawing him towards her.

Courtney inhaled sharply, and reached over, instinctively grasping for Adore’s hand in the dark, holding on tight while the actors’ lips met in a slow kiss, the music soaring. Adore’s heart pounded. She knew that this was just Courtney, it didn’t really mean anything, but it didn’t change how it made her feel. How it made her palms sweat and her pulse race, to be here in the dark, fingers intertwined and slippery with fake butter.

And then, of course, she saw Roy’s eyes, just for a moment, when the screen flashed white. Glaring at her. Did he know? Was Adore that transparent? Or was he just peeved that Courtney was grabbing Adore’s hand and not his? Anxiety filled Adore’s chest and she wrenched her hand away.

Courtney, oblivious as always, leaned her head on Roy’s shoulder and continued to watch the movie while Adore gripped the arms of the seat, her knuckles turning white. She got up and bolted for the exit, muttering about the bathroom.

Courtney turned her head and watched as Adore raced up the aisle, then turned back to the screen, biting her lip. A lump formed in her throat. She was so tired of this endless loop they were in - Courtney reaching out, taking the smallest baby steps, only to have Adore push her away. Maybe it was useless. Maybe Violet was right all those months ago when she said that Adore would never like her back. She sighed.

Roy kissed the top of her head. “Bored, baby?”

“Uh, no, just...sorry, my mind wandered a little. This movie is so dark. I think I need more color to hold my attention.”

Roy laughed, pressing his lips to her temple. “You’re the fucking cutest, you know that?”

Courtney smiled up at him. “How about after the movie, you can tell me all about how cute I am?” She kissed him lightly, sliding a hand up his thigh.

“Deal.”