#and she’s like ‘EW NO i don’t want to sleep with you ugly...but you’re actually really hot and smart and aaahhhh go away...’

[achangeinreality]

Okay Part 4!! I’m struggling with links right now (they’re getting super messed up) so if you want to check out part 1, it’s pinned on my blog and that has the links to part 2&3. Thanks, enjoy!

Encounters Part 4

July 24, 2552

0500

Ding. Ira groaned at the sound that woke her up so early. She wasn’t normally awake until 0600 hours and always cherished any little sleep she could get. After all, Ira could be in deep sleep and still be woken up by a fly on a wall. But as she rolled over to check her datapad for whatever the cause of her early wakefulness was, she felt a surge of energy course through her as she saw: S-058. Ira opened up the encrypted message which read, Good morning. Ira looked at the message and smiled. Then she looked at the top of her screen to see urgent notifications. She opened up her emails to find an encrypted email sent to all ODST team leaders notifying an emergency meeting to be set for that day at 0700 hours. She replied back to her: Good morning! I hope you slept well. A few minutes went by as Ira went through the rest of her emails and notifications. Ding. S-058: Yes, I slept fine. How are you? Ira replied with, I am happy to wake up to a message from you.

Ira giggled a little to herself after hitting send. The day that Linda had shipped out, Ira was devastated. She had spent the day moping around and finding comfort in the bullet that she now carried on herself at all times. Though, a message from the now Gunnery Sergeant Sila Gutierrez also helped. Sila had messaged her, Hey, Happy belated birthday! Sorry for the late message, I just got back today from the jungle. We had no damn connection other than local comms. Hope you had a good birthday! Sila had done exceedingly well in her career, having continued to climb the ranks throughout the years. She was often unavailable to talk however as she was often sent on lengthy operations. But Sila always responded to messages, even if it was a few weeks late sometimes. Ira considered calling Sila to vent about her romantic mishaps but did not want to bother her. After a few minutes, Ira decided she had no one else to vent to who could understand where she was coming from and initiated a video connection with her.

”Ira! You look good! What’s up? How was your birthday?”- Sila

”Hey Sergeant [insert salute] thank you, thank you. You look alright I guess. My birthday was good. How was the jungle?- Ira

”Hey take that slander elsewhere! But yeah no it was fucking awful. I’m covered in bites on every possible inch of my body.- Sila

”Oh god that sucks, I don’t envy you. But hey uh can I talk to you about something?”- Ira

”Yeah, what is it? What’d you do this time?”- Sila

”You can’t tell a soul. It’s nothing illegal, but it is super personal,”- Ira

”As long as it’s not court marshal worthy I won’t say a word,” -Sila

”No of course it’s not. But uh, well…. Do you remember Spartan 058… you know, the Spartan that saved us on Draco III?”

”You mean the one that you hit on while you were high and then tried again the next day and failed again?” -Sila

[Through gritted teeth] “Yes that one.”- Ira

”What did you do?” -Sila

”Uh…. I ran into her and tried again.” -Ira

”Dude are you actually numb? Like do you need a brain scan? Cuz I can’t believe what just came out of your mouth. Is this like a weird humiliation kink?” Sila

”EW no! No it was different this time, hear me out. I was on Sigma Octanus IV, came back, was standing around with my team, when all of a sudden I hear my name. I turn around and she’s right there! She remembered me! So then she asks to meet with me in the mess hall at 2100 hours and obviously I said yes. So-

“Wait wait wait wait, she saw you and recognized you? But you’ve gotten so old and ugly since the last time she saw you, how is that possible?” -Sila

”Hahaha very funny, jokes on you, you’re older! Anyway, I get there and she starts talking to me, tells me her name. It’s Linda by the way. And I’m trying to keep my chill but you know me, I kept embarrassing myself. Anyway, I invite her to my birthday and she says yes. Then she called me out on my big ass pupils and I thought, well the gig is up, fuck it. So I tell her I’m attracted to her and she did not respond well. But I called her out too and said, hey your pupils have been blown this whole time, what’s up with that? Obviously that also didn’t go well either and she said this wasn’t going to go anywhere and left. SO- Ira

”Oh my god you sly sick bitch. Damn you called out a Spartan? And accused her of having the hots for you on top of that? Let me take notes, damn. Anyway, continue- Sila

”Yeah I know I’m a little unhinged but anyways, get this. She comes to the party!! She actually shows up even after all of that!- Ira

”OOOOOO she came?? Girl she’s in trouble that’s all bad. Wow I’m so proud of you! So what’s the problem then?” -Sila

”Well, it was all good and she even gave me a present that she customized for me. It was so sweet I almost started crying. So then she says she wants to talk to me in private and here I was thinking I was about to win the universal lottery. But then we go to my room and she says, “My purpose is to be a Spartan so this isn’t something I can entertain. I want to stay as friends.”- Ira

”Ohhhh come onnn. No no no no, Ira no, that’s so bad! Wait, what was the present?”- Sila

”I’m not telling you it’s personal! But regardless, she tells me that-“ Ira

”No! What was the present? You’re already telling me the whole hoot and holler, what’s one more detail?” -Sila

”Don’t tell anyone about it,”- Ira

”I already said I’m not opening my mouth about any of this,” -Sila

Ira pulled the bullet out of her pocket and shined it with the cloth that it came wrapped in. She put it up to the screen and then put it close up to the camera so that the words were legible enough for Sila, despite showing up backwards through the video. Sila said nothing while deciphering it and then gasped.

”Oh honey. Oh lord. Oh my god she likes you too,”- Sila

”Do you think so?” -Ira

”No I don’t fucking think so, I know so. That’s such a genuine thing to do. Wow go Linda! Okay so what’s the current update on this?” -Sila

”That’s it. She shipped out this morning to Reach.” -Ira

”Oh you sad sop I bet you’ve just been moping around, woe is me-ing all day huh? Well let me tell you something. It sounds like if you keep pushing it, you’re gonna be entering a whole world of pain. Even if you did enter into a relationship, you would always be her 2nd priority. She clearly values her position very highly,” -Sila

Ira said nothing for a second. Just sat in silence until she nodded in agreement slowly.

”But I know you’re stubborn and your audacity knows no bounds so let me follow up with, if you’re going to push it, I can see a sliver of success.” -Sila

”Really? How?”- Ira

”Well she obviously likes you but she’s way up in the ranks so this is super unorthodox in the UNSC. If you can find a way to stay in contact, you might be too difficult to forget. But, don’t make the first move. You’ve already done the heavy lifting of a lifetime with this. Lay low for a few days and then throw a fishing line in if you’ve only gotten comm silence.” -Sila

“I guess I don’t really have anything else to go on. Thanks Sila, I knew you’d say something helpful.” -Ira

”Yeah well don’t say I didn’t warn you if it all goes tits up. But hey I gotta go, I’m getting summoned to debriefing. I hope it all goes well, keep me posted, bye!”- Sila. Ira waved goodbye as the video chat ended.

This conversation had taken place 3 days ago. It helped Ira feel infinitely less alone knowing that someone in the universe cared to hear her woes, a luxury that many people didn’t have. The next day came and went, and Ira focused on her team. They were excellent, but their newest recruit, Richard, had some difficulty collaborating with the team. Oftentimes, any mistakes or issues that they had encountered on the battlefield originated from a lack of communication and this was something that Ira hoped to tackle. Ira had come up with an exercise: Everyone one, except one person, would be blindfolded and tied to each other with a rope that allowed 3 ft in between. The person in the front would not be blindfolded but still tied. It would be their job to scout the room for hidden, but visually findable booby traps that Ira had asked an outside personnel to rig. The traps were lightly painful but non-lethal and the goal was to make it around the room without setting off one. The person in the front then had to pass down where and how to step around to the person behind. That person would then pass it down, until it reached the end. They would all take turns being the person in the front and Ira would give them 2 tries each to get it right once. The exercise had been going well, most of her team members succeeded at least once. Only Richard had failed twice. To say that he threw a fit was to put it lightly.

”This is fucking dumb Corporal, why did I even need to participate in this? Is this some sort of hazing ritual?”, he exclaimed. “We are doing this to improve our communication skills. Over the last few skirmishes that we’ve been in, there’s been mistakes left and right. It’s my job to make sure we improve,” Ira replied sternly but evenly. Richard continued. “But why this? Why can’t we just watch our tapes back and learn that way?”

“We tried that already and it didn’t work. It’s like all my pointers went in through one ear and out the other. I have talked to you about this before, you’re our weakest link. You’re impulsive on the battlefield and disregard every other order. That shit won’t fly much longer so I’m giving you the chance to improve,” Ira stated. The rest of the team did their best to look uninterested but Ira could tell they were all intently listening. “Oh okay communication is my issue then alright. Maybe I’ll take a little lesson from you and that Spartan that you’ve been fooling around with. You two sure seem to have plenty to talk about,” Richard shot back. Absolute silence filled the room. You could have heard a pin drop and locate its exact location after that comment.

“Excuse me? I don’t think you understand your position, trooper. My personal life is of no concern to you and if I ever hear you voicing any sort of comment on it, I will personally make sure that you never drop from a pod again. Do I make myself clear?” Ira’s tone could have cut glass. Her stare was cold, unwavering, and occupied with an empty, soulless void that threatened to consume him if he spoke anything other than “yes, sir”. Richard seemed to shrink in size and looked anywhere but back at her. “Yes, sir,” he replied quietly, still looking away. “Good. And unless you show improvement on our next mission, you will not remain on this team. Dismissed,” Ira barked. Everyone shuffled out of the room uncomfortably. Rachel stayed back after everyone had left to say, ”So… we’ve all been wondering something. This is probably not the best time but I’m gonna ask anyway,” Ira glared at Rachel, knowing exactly what the question was going to be. “I’m gonna stop you right there Datz. Go, that’s an order,” she seethed. Rachel put her hands up and scuffled out. Ira sighed, knowing damn well the topic of conversation amongst her team was going to be ‘what’s up with the corporal and that Spartan?’ And the answer was, nothing. Absolutely fuckig nothing, that’s the problem. Nothing was going on between her and the Spartan. She leaned against the wall and covered her eyes. Get a grip you idiot, she thought.

Ira was walking to the showers when she heard a Ding! Looking over at her data pad, her jaw dropped to the floor upon seeing the name of the recipient: S-058. She opened the message up and read, Hello, I am hoping you are well. Ira fervently typed back, Hi! I am now. And yourself?

This had been the beginning of their back and forth messaging which had now been going on for 2 days. It was only 5-6 messages a day, but they meant the world to her. So really, being woken up a little too early to the first one of the day wasn’t too bad at all. She was mostly surprised to have received any sort of communication. But for now, she had to start her day and see what this meeting was all about.

I am happy to wake up to a message from you.- Ira

Linda felt her eyes widen a little at the message and an increasingly more familiar warmth radiate in her chest. It had been 2 days since Linda gave into the nagging thoughts and decided to reach out to Ira. She knew it wasn’t necessarily a good idea but managed to convince herself that this was how to maintain a good friendship. Kelly was the only one who knew that Linda was in communication with Ira. She had given her an approving look at the news.

”Glad to know my advice is taken seriously around these parts,” Kelly touted. Linda rolled her eyes and replied, “Yeah alright settle down. We’re just friends.” Kelly huffed loudly but said nothing else. Later that day when they were finishing up at the shooting range, Kelly had asked, “So how’s the friendship going?” Linda looked around annoyed to make sure that no one was listening to them. She answered back, “It’s going fine. Do you need an hourly update?”

”I’m just saying, I’d support a partnership. I know some of the others wouldn’t approve but since when do you care what others think?,” Kelly pressed. Linda sat down at one of the tables nearby to take her sniper apart. Taking the weapon apart to clean it was incredibly soothing for her. Focusing on that made it easier to have this conversation. “Kelly I know you mean well but you can’t be serious. There are so many reasons to not go there with her. Not to mention I’m 13 years older than her. I don’t know much about this stuff but I know that’s weird,” Linda stated. Kelly snorted at the comment and said, “First off, we’re not ancient. Secondly, I don’t think that’s an issue she’s concerned over, otherwise she probably wouldn’t be all heart eyes over you. Fuck the rules anyway you’re both adults.”

”Exactly, I’m an adult and I’m making a responsible, adult decision to keep her at an arm’s length. It’s the best decision for the both of us,” Linda continued, firmly. Her tone was even but Kelly could tell that she was tense. Regardless, she pushed back, “Well she’s an adult too and I’m sure she knows what she wants.” At that, Kelly walked out of the room, leaving Linda to continue her cleaning. Click, click, click, snap, snap, click. The pieces all fit back together perfectly and cleanly. If only her current situation was so easily assembled.

She needed to meditate and there were too many people around. So, Linda made her way to the base’s quiet room. This was where soldiers and military personnel could go to pray, soak in silence, or meditate in Linda’s case. Not every station or base that she went to had one of these but when it did, Linda was grateful for it. Linda’s home base on Reach had everything she could want and this was one of her favorites. The room was different in more ways than one. It had a skylight that allowed sunlight to gleam through and illuminate the room softly during the day and moonlight during the night. The corners of the room however, remained in shadow. This was the only room on the base that did not have any artificial lighting and it brought a certain peace to the atmosphere, unlike any she had experienced before. Linda grabbed a mat off the shelf and sat in the back right corner of the room. She sat down and closed her eyes, breathing slowly, feeling her mind lifting off.

1200 hours

Kelly finished her run. These new headphones that she had gotten amazed her, as they had managed to stay on her head the entire time. Music was a joy that Kelly had discovered years ago. It allowed her to stay focused and pushed her to move faster and faster. According to John, her choice of ‘classic rock’ was archaic and noisy but she liked noisy! Better to have catchy lyrics blended with ‘noisy’ drums and guitar sounds as opposed to screaming, explosions, and death. The sounds of war. Though the sounds of gunfire weren’t necessarily ugly to her. They were, in a weird and sad way, comforting to her. Not comforting in a conventional way but rather, in a predictable way. In other words, Kelly knew where gunfire came from and what it did. She could distinguish the type of weapon that every gunshot came from and smell their differences. This was not necessarily an exceptional ability but rather one shared between many of her siblings. And right now, there were too many new and uncertain things happening that Kelly didn’t have explanations for.

In the last 24 hours, Kelly had grown concerned about Linda. Linda, it appeared, had grown oddly attached to Corporal Ira Hagan, ODST. Kelly had done some digging into Hagan’s file and found some impressive accomplishments. Upon further investigation (light hacking), she found a concerning detail about her. The Corporal had been subject to several psych evals. Not a good thing in their line of work, or probably in any. The cause for the several evals was…. REDACTED. How interesting, she thought. What could the Corporal have done to receive so many psych evals and then the reason for them be redacted? Moreover, should she tell Linda? Maybe not yet, after all, Kelly had encouraged Linda to reach out and embrace a ‘friendship’ with Hagan. She wanted to be on their side and support whatever this was, but Kelly couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about Hagan. And here was the proof! But maybe it was a misunderstanding, maybe she was looking too much into it. And right now, she had nothing else to go on.

Kelly wandered into the mess hall, looking around for Fred-104. He was serving himself whatever horrible soup was getting served that day. Kelly always hated soup. She wandered over and sniffed it, feeling a nausea in her stomach.

“What do you want, soup hater?,” Fred inquired dryly. Kelly signed to him, need to talk. He lifted an eyebrow and looked at her, signing back, urgent? Kelly rolled her eyes and said out loud, “What do you think?” Fred sighed and asked, “I’ll eat, you talk.” They went over to the most secluded table in the mess hall that they could find. Regardless, it was full at the moment and so, it was improbable that others would hear their conversation. Kelly sat down and waited for Fred to start eating. She thought about how to phrase her question. Fred asked, “Well?” Kelly leaned back in her chair and asked, “Do you remember Margaret-053 and Otto-031?” Fred looked at her seriously but said nothing. He swallowed the next spoonful of soup and answered, “Of course, Black Team. Excellent Spartans.” Kelly’s face dropped and she looked at him in annoyment, “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Fred sighed loudly and replied, “What’s your point? Why are you bringing that up?” Fred was of course talking about the incident when they were kids where the 2 aforementioned Spartans were found out to be entangled with one another. The rest of the Spartans did not take kindly to the news and well, essentially assaulted the pair. The fight had ended with Margaret losing an eye and retaliation on behalf of Black team which then ended in 2 more weeks of trouble for everyone.

The motivation behind the attack had been a misplaced belief that the Spartans had not been taking their training seriously. This of course came from the brainwashed idea they held at the time that any semblance of romance was a detriment to them all. That was until Kelly grew up and could see that the instilled belief had been a way to control them and further them away from their humanity. It was effective of course, for to be attached to someone else romantically was to be distracted from their missions partially. And as weapons, that just wouldn’t do. Still though, when Maria-062 retired to create a family of her own, it made Kelly stop and think. What could compel someone like her to turn away from their purpose and create her own? It seemed that love indeed was a powerful motivator, and their instructors were right to steer them clear of it. But instead of erasing Maria from her memory, Kelly felt an enormous amount of respect for her. For though the life of a Spartan was the only one Kelly could want, who was she to judge another for wanting more? She certainly had had her fair share of little crushes here and there but couldn’t ever act on those feelings. There just wasn’t ever any time for that. And people were too scared of her and the other Spartans to ever initiate conversation anyway. Kelly couldn’t blame them of course, but it got lonely at times. So when she heard Private Hagan admit to Linda that regardless of their circumstances or rank, she would have still called her pretty, Kelly was flabbergasted. Not only did this Private have the chutzpah to hit on a Spartan twice, but Linda’s lack of response had been very telling. If she truly had no interest in this woman, surely she would have reprimanded her or sent an official complaint to her new team lead. At least a write up or something. But instead, she was frazzled into silence. Linda wasn’t one to get cowed, the woman was incredibly scary. Kelly’s suspicions had only been reaffirmed when 8 years later, aka a few days ago, Linda had come to vent about a very personal meeting she had had with a certain Corporal.

“You don’t still feel that way about relationships right?,” Kelly finally responded. Fred looked even more confused now but replied, “No not entirely. I think we were immature at the time but- wait why are you asking me this stuff?”

”Humor me. Say hypothetically, this was happening now, and you found out that Otto had a lot of psych evals but the information on those were redacted, what would you do? Would you tell Margaret or dig deeper?,” Kelly inquired. Fred looked beyond annoyed at this point but rolled his eyes and answered back, “I wouldn’t get involved.” Kelly exhaled exasperatedly and said, “No you have to answer, just humor me.” Fred thought for a few seconds and replied, “Well, telling Margaret would only lead to her asking Otto about it and he can’t talk since the information is redacted so then he’d be compromised. I suppose I’d dig deeper then.” Kelly smiled at him, content with the answer. She stood up and said, “Enjoy your soup, I’m going on another run.” Fred frowned and yelled, “Wait no what’s going on?!” But it was too late. Kelly had already sped out of the room as quickly as she had come, leaving Fred to wonder, do I even wanna know?

[gnomeyflamingo]

✮ Just another day... ✮

We return to find Atreo sleeping soundly. *Eerie sloshing style noises*

Atreo: *jumps awake*  “What was that?”

Atreo: “AHH a MONSTER! Go away!”

Monster: “I wish I could little boy but the housing market is rough. I'm also going through an ugly divorce. Do you mind if I eat bits of your dead skin cells and hair? I’m starving.”

Atreo: "EW NO!"

*Has trauma bath*

Alejandro: “This is how you cook Acco. You handle your two knives simultaneously, chopping the watermelon with reckless abandon.”

Acco: “Wow!”

Alejandro: “And then you let the bowl of fruit salad slide down your arm, like this…”

Acco: “Teach me Papi!”

Brielle: “Show off."

Brielle comes home and receives amazing news; she has gotten promoted. She’s now a National Leader and all of her legacy goals have been completed, except for one! Brielle: “Woo I reached the top of my passionless, dead end job! I’m soaking in it, I have ARRIVED!”

Atreo: “Congrats on your promotion Mum. So my birthday is coming up and I was thinking…”

Brielle: “We’re not leaving Acco at home.”

Atreo: “Come on! It’s MY birthday, I should get to invite sims I actually like.”

Brielle: "He's your brother."

Atreo: "And?"

Brielle: “Atreo really hates Acco and I don’t know what to do about it. He’s the heir now, the battle is over. Your move.”

Alejandro: “We can't force anything. I mean Atreo's been calling me by my first name since he aged into a toddler. All we can hope for is a character arch."

In true Atherstone fashion, Acco brought Helmuth home from school and they’ve become best friends forever.

Helmuth: “And then when my teacher heard my name, she cried and hugged me, telling me to stay strong! I'm so changing my name!"

Acco: "Ooh let's come up with name ideas!"

Acco: “Dear diary, today I’ve become BFF’s with Helmuth. He's thinking of changing his name and we had a brainstorm session. He now wants to be known as Otto, after one of the cats on our lot.”

Atreo: "Another scout promotion for me! Making those garlic wreaths is paying off!"

Alejandro: “You can do this buddy. Draw those lines! You’re holding that crayon excellently.”

Atreo: “Thanks for the encouragement.” 

Acco: “And then the tooth fairy-”

Atreo: “Shut up Acco, you're distracting me! I’m busy wiring this motherboard into my school project.”

Otto: “MURDER! HELLP! MURDERRRRRRR!”

Kelsy: “What was that about? A knife through my neck? Seriously?!”

Alejandro: “I told you to move.”

Kelsy: “How am I still alive?”

Alejandro: “I’m a really good cook.”

Kelsy: "Then FEED ME!"

Brielle's using her telescope for the first time, not realising I have WW installed.

Brielle: “Hehe I wonder what my neighbours are up to-OMW! Close the curtains! That’s not even the bedroom!”

As Brielle averts her eyes in embarrassment, the snow falls and Winterfest begins!

In the early morning…

Helicopter pilot: “The prisoner is loose and is throwing glitter and glue into my eyes! Where did she even get it from- she just jumped out- mayday, mayday, helicopter is going down-”

***Cool and dramatic explosion***

Keahola: “Must. Heal. From. Third Degree. Burns. And. Broken. Bones. Must. Be.... Nanny!”

*smoke and fire clears*

Keohola: “Hey that worked! My immense passion has healed my injuries. Great. I’m coming Atherstone boys. Nanny is back!” 

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❧ Back to the Legacy Archive

[lannisterdaddyissues]

im reading this book called shanna and all i can think of is a braime au....

[usagis-tsukinos]

Dance with the Devil

Read, Comment, or Kudo on Ao3!

Pairing: Unrequited-F!Reader x Gabriel, Possible Lucifer x F!Reader

Rating: E for Everyone

Warnings: Mentions of Character Death, Unrequited Love/Crush, Lucifer's Manipulation

Words: 461

Author's Note: It's been almost a year and I still don't know if I'm ever continuing this.

Lucifer’s got some thoughts on your feelings regarding his actions against a certain Archangel.

“I feel like you and I got off on the wrong foot,” Lucifer said, standing across from Y/N as she stared daggers into his soul.

“What? Are you seriously trying to redeem yourself right now?” She spat, holding the knife in her hand just a little bit tighter as her knuckles started to go white. Tears formed in her eyes as she tried to hide all fear from the Archangel, even with the circle of holy fire surrounding him.

“I was doing you a favor, Y/N. I’m sorry that you’re too blinded by, what’s that human emotion called again? Oh, yeah, love. Ew.” His face scrunched up in disgust.

“Personally I’m glad I never actually experienced it, I mean, look how angry you are, after losing just one little Archangel.”

“He was my—“

“Don’t even bother saying ‘friend’, because clearly it was more than that. To you, at least.” Lucifer stood still, putting his hands in his pocket as he shrugged his shoulders. She bit her lip softly, trying not to let him get inside her head. She knew Gabriel didn’t feel the same but he didn’t have to rub it in. Pacing around the holy fire, Y/N did her best to control her emotions. This was the literal Devil, and you can’t let him fuck with your mind.

“You wouldn’t have had a chance with him, anyway. Look at you,”

“Shut up.”

“He only goes after or creates supermodels, pornstars. Why would he ever even sleep with you? You were just some puppy kept around because he knew you’d do everything he said.”

“That’s not true!” She stammered.

“He didn’t love you, Y/N. I think part of him hated you, actually. Having to save you all the time, heal your wounds. It must’ve been so annoying after a while. Using his grace for one stupid human. If I were him I would’ve left a long time ago.”

By this point, she was on her knees, hugging herself as the tears started to form. “He might not have loved me but at least he cared enough to do all those things!”

“He only did them because the Winchesters made him, bossing him around to take care of you because you clearly can’t do it yourself.” Tears freely flowed down her cheeks as she began to ugly cry.

“You don’t mean this, any of it, you’re just saying that. You just want to break me!”

“Oh, I can’t break you, little girl. You’ve already broken yourself.” Lucifer knelt down in the fire circle, watching her try to comfort herself.

“I’m sorry it took me killing Gabriel to make you see just how useless you were to him. But,” he whispered softly, still kneeling,

“I can help you.”

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. ok but thats also i think i dont get? because without the series or character names, what of any of the promo images or banner or anything else give away it's supposed to be a greek mythology story? they just look like people with weird anatomy who are colored like highlighters. at the very least some iconography should be on them, but there's not? like even percy jackson stuff makes sure to give him a trident and have water flowing around him.

2. rachel made three times where persephone could have made the choice to be with hades willingly and didnt do it each time. first time she was drugged and put into his car, where he phsyically handles her unconscious body and puts her in his bed (ew). second is her working for him, which was hera forcing it. third was her going to the underworld not because she wanted to, but because she was hiding from the law/apollo and he found her. where exactly is her agency in all of this?

3. LO seems like the fast food of webtoons. because there's no room to speculate or theorize, you just read an episode and move on, the bright colors distract that it's a rushed and lazy product over something with high quality and effort, the characters are flat and boring, and the plot has no substance. it's meant to be consumed in a rapid binge, because if not you realize what low-effort and what little you're actually getting from it when you slow down and actually think about it.

4. i mean rachel does have some logic to her fancasting, the problem is it seems the only people of color are either demonized for being hypersexual (aphrodite, eros until he's with psyche) or are literally r//pists who are out to harm her white-fa casted persephone (apollo), so yeah, there is logic there, it's just pointing to rachel being (hopefully unintentionally) racist

5. It pisses me so much that I work over time  (using references and looking at paintings and reading history for ideas for interesting character motifs) so that any of the ancient greek characters I draw look cool and authentically greek, and yet fucking Rachel Smythe, who can't even be bothered to do more than 5 seconds of research to learn that not all ancient greek outfits were shitty, minimalist off white and eggshell, gets to be revered as an artistic revolutionary. It pisses me off so. Fucking. Much. Not just for me, but for everyone else like me who absolutely ADORES greek mythology and wants to draw accurate portrayals of these characters! To whoever is reading this, stop. Stop rn and go read Sleep and His Brother Death (a comic on webtoons), go play Hades (the video game), go read The Song of Achilles (a book by Madeline Miller). Those are beautiful pieces of fiction about Greek mythology that deserve your attention more then Rachel and her shitty pink highlighter self inserts.

And a sidenote, I know that this is kinda like a modern AU for the gods. I am aware. Does not change that fact that anytime any character is drawn in ancient greek fashion it's always the SAME. SHITTY. CHITON. Maybe with a.cape or a scarf, but for the most part? It's just the same stupid, off white chiton.

6. oh, i thought you guys were joking persephone is now stuck with red eyes. is that seriously what look we're stuck with now? does rachel know it looks really ugly?

7. i feel like the lineart less style actually hurts LO in a way. way too often you can look at a panel and it becomes really murky where something starts and ends, and it looks even worse on a phone screen, because on an even smaller screen the images look even more compressed, making it even harder to tell stuff apart. this wouldnt be as bad if the comic took back up its more high contrast look from the begging, but now it's all one flat shade and im not sure why.

8. im really confused over the marketing of LO, tbh. like the ads are all hxp focused, but the series name implies its not about them, but focusing on the 12 olympians, but then the synopsis is general mythology and at the very end randomly mentions its about persephone? but then you read it and nots sure whether its a teen romance, a comedy, a serious drama, and can't stay straight with its messaging and timeline? and persephone is not there for a chunk of time. like whats actually going on?? 😭

9. Chapter 173 is like 50% filler. It gives more questions that answers, and not just from the reporters. Like the reporter stuff was mostly filler, and the Persphone and Hades stuff was like yeah we know dont need to drag this on.

My questions are WHAT ARE THE RED EYES? Is it when she’s mad? Horny? Sad? Happy? I feel like the red eyes just show up whenever RS wants to draw them

Flying? I feel like Persphone has always been flying like it wasn’t a bug moment at all. She flew home when Minthe and Hades kissed. But apperently Demeter didn’t know? I guess I don’t remember her flying in the mortal realm but her flying didn’t seem like a big moment, none of the other characters seemed surprised by it.

“Answer mine first!” When i got to that line I reread some of it just to find where the question was. That line normally matters when you’ve already asked the question not if you haven’t gotten there yet. Like of course Demeter is gonna be worried and ask a million questions.

I know the pomegranate pin is gonna be important but I felt the focus on it was a little too much, like an excuse not to cover more this chapter. Because honestly it felt like 5 minutes of the plot was covered in this chapter. 

10. So uh, whats up with Hades weird ass comments... Like "Persephone you look beautiful and if someone says otherwise they can go play on the highway" ???

Because Persephone looking good during a murder trial is clearly the most important thing here.

Also, Perse's response to the reporter who asked her about her friendship with Hades. I mean, on one hand Persephone is right, her "friendship" (or whatever it is they have going on) is nobodies business but her own - but at the same time, its kinda also the underworld denizens right to know in the sense that their future leadership could be affected so they might want to know whats going on if their getting a new co-ruler / Queen that they will be subjects of. They probably will want to know who Persephone is, should she and Hades get married because it's very likely that when (cause lets be real its a 'when' not 'if' they get married) they do get married that Persephone will inherit half the title.

So, eh?

[h2bakugou]

Hello! I couldn’t find anywhere saying if you were taking requests, so just ignore this if you’re not! My dog is in the first stages of congestive heart failure and I could use some cheering up. Can you write a little something about Bakugo with a fem s/o that finds a kinda ugly little fluffy grey dog and she really wants to keep it, and at first Baku is like “ew” but then comes to get attached to the dog bc it’s really sweet and kinda dopey and not scared no matter how he yells? Love your blog!

a/n: hi there! i’m so sorry to hear that, i hope everything turns out okay, i’m sending you all my love

summary: when you smuggle a scruffy grey puppy back into the dorms, your boyfriend is the first to find out. at first, he’s against the little scruff but eventually, bakugou softens up a bit.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk / (d/n) - dog’s name

warnings: swearing, fluff

wordcount: 927

»»————-　★　————-««

»»————-　★　————-««

In your rush to get back to the dorms before curfew, you had stumbled upon a scruffy little puppy. You couldn’t just leave him on the street alone.

He was in need of a bath, and probably a good meal. There were no identification tags on him, or a collar. Around the area, you also hadn’t seen any missing dog posters. You assumed he was a stray.

Your love for him grew as he approached you and rolled over at your feet, wanting belly rubs.

So now, you stood walking onto the campus at U.A., a small grey puppy hiding under your sweater.

- - -

You got into your dorm, happily away from everyone. No one was out which was nice. But the stern cough from your bed startled you.

“Where the hell have you-”

“Bakuogu!” You held your arms around the puppy under your sweater carefully, praying that it wouldn’t choose now to make a noise.

“Are you alright?” Bakugou asked, standing up, walking over to you.

“Me? Pfft yeah. Never been better actually.” You spoke quickly. Bakugou was catching on. You were hiding something.

“You’re acting really-”

A small grey ball of fluff peaked out of your shirt, the puppy’s fur ticking your neck.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Bakugou groaned. He watched as you took the puppy from under your sweater and let him down on the floor.

“He’s so sweet. Please don’t say anything.” You bent down, resting on your knees, playing with the puppy.

In the light, you could see better. He had fluffy grey fur mixed with darker bits of black around his ears and at the tip of his tail. His front paws had tufts of white fur mixed in.

He had dark brown eyes and just overall was cute.

“It’s ugly.” Bakugou took a seat on your bed. You looked up at him a thin line formed on your lips.

“I’m keeping him.” You stated sternly. Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“You can’t have a pet here. And don’t bring up Koda, he has permission. You don’t.” Bakugou explained.

“Then I’ll get some.” You smirked.

“I’m going to bed.” Bakugou groaned, stomping out of your room. Sometimes he wondered if anything he said got through your thick skull.

“He’s just jealous.” You whispered to the puppy. You looked around and grabbed a spare towel you had. You could give him a quick little bath and get him some food before going to sleep. 

- - -

The bath was a lot easier than you thought. You’d yet to give the puppy a name, and you felt bad just calling it ‘puppy’ in your mind. 

“What should I name you?” You continued drying the puppy off with your towel. You let it roam around a bit while you fixed it some food. 

It wasn’t the best, but some leftovers from the night should be okay. A bowl of mixed vegetables and some turkey. It wasn’t anything lavish, and you’d need to get proper food for it, but for now, this would have to do.

You scurried back to your dorm with the bowl, the puppy trailing behind you, his tail wagging and his tongue flopped out to the side of his muzzle.

- - -

The next morning you woke up to a warm ball of fluff beside you. You smiled and remembered the previous night's events. You put getting dogfood down on your mental checklist.

You’d also have to do something about the bathroom. For right now, you’d make do with your balcony, frowning at the thought of having to clean up poo.

Doggy pads were added to your mental checklist next.

“Oi. Let me in!” Bakugou’s voice sounded from your dorm door. You were happy today was a weekend.

You trudged over to your door in your pajamas, letting Bakugou in.

“Please tell me it’s-”

A quiet woof came from your bed.

You ran back over to check and see if everything was okay. The puppy paced a few circles before laying back down on your bed. You crawled back into bed and cuddled up beside it.

“You need to get rid of it.” Bakugou leaned on your wall.

“I don’t want too.” The puppy moved, now laying on your stomach. You smiled as it looked up at you.

“It needs a name, wanna help?” You asked, looking over at Bakugou. 

“Hell no.” Bakugou took a seat on your bed and the puppy lifted its head, interested in the new human.

It walked over to Bakugou and sniffed him before laying in his lap.

“He likes you!” You exclaimed, happy to see that your new friend was afraid of the explosive blonde.

“It looks dumb.” Bakugou looked down at the puppy who was staring right back at Bakugou, it’s tongue hanging out of its mouth again.

“What about (d/n)?” You proposed the name for the puppy.

“Yeah, whatever.” Bakugou looked away.

- - -

The next few hours you and Bakugou spent together, (d/n) cuddled with Bakugou. And slowly, Bakugou got used to the scruff of grey fur. 

Bakugou was a good sport and went out and bought dog food and doggy pads. You set up your balcony for him to use the bathroom.

It didn’t take long for (d/n) to get accustomed to everything. He ate some dog food and got right back up on your bed, cuddling between you and Bakugou.

“He’s not so bad.” Bakugou mumbled. You smiled and poked his cheek.

“You’re such a softie.” You giggled.

“It keeps looking at me with that dumb face!” Bakugou yelled. You shushed him, giving him a quick kiss.

“You love him.” You cooed. Bakugou rolled his eyes and hugged you closer, (d/n) coming and resting between you two, resting his head on Bakugou’s arms.

“I love him.” Bakugou spoke quietly.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

gently rings a little bell in your ear My fic updated with two new chapters when you weren't paying attention! but now i am tilting your chin up with the point of my sword, forcing you to look. its very villainous and cool. this is part three of an increasingly convoluted story, part one can be found all the way over here but if you just want the high school romance stuff and don't care about found family, that's fine, i guess, but like, what's your deal

The weekend is a welcome relief from everything at school. He’s tired of feeling like shit, so Saturday, annoyingly bright and early, he startles Lydia awake by flopping on her bed. It causes her to bounce, and she groans, pulling the dark purple blanket further over her head. “Beetlejuice…” “I was thinkin’, today we should spend th’ whole day outdoors, in th’ park or somethin’,” he grins, and she lifts the blanket just barely, to glare at him. “You only want to play outside because all your stuff was taken away,” comes her accusation, and she’s not exactly wrong, but he just wiggles a hand under her blanket and gives her nose a poke. “Let’s go get lost, somewhere. Come on, Lyds, please?” She tries to hit him with a pillow but her grip is tired from sleep, and all she manages to do is shove the thing at him.

Twenty minutes later, she’s dressed and ready, bouncing on the balls of her feet, as he mulls over which button up to wear, the highlighter yellow with purple bugs, or the dark green with orange bones. They’re two equally ugly shirts that kind of give him a headache to look at, and both are favorites. “I can’t believe you woke me up at eight so I could stand around watching you go through your wardrobe.” “This is important.” He settles on the bugs, finally, and pulls it on before turning to Lydia, but she’s gone. He blinks, and sticks his head out his door, in time to headbutt her as she comes back in. Both siblings reel back and hold their heads. “Beetlejuice…” she groans. “Lyd-eee-uhhh,” he mimics her. She huffs and throws what she’d gone to her room to retrieve at him. He catches it, then stares. It’s his hoodie, his ruined one from that disastrous Halloween. He can still see that faded dark copper stain in some places, but it's better than it was. Also, the holes slashed in the arms have been very sloppily stitched with a thick, black embroidery thread. He looks back at his sister. “You seemed like you were having a hard week,” Lydia says, shuffling her feet. “I never sewed anything before, I’m sorry it looks kind of messy, and I tried really hard to get the bloodstains out...” He slips his familiar stripes back on and feels much more at ease. “It’s cool,” he tells her. “I like messy.” He holds open his arms and she falls into them, pressing her face against his stomach. It's a nice moment, and for once, he doesn’t feel inclined to ruin it, just pats his little sister’s head. “Love you.” “Love you too.”

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` Charles, ever an early riser, is surprised to see his children in the kitchen this bright eyed and bushy tailed on a Saturday. He’s pouring two coffees, one for himself and one for Emily, who is sitting at the table, head propped up on her hand, and still functionally asleep, when Betelgeuse and Lydia come bounding in to raid the fridge. “And what are you two getting up to today?” he asks, and the siblings pause to look at him. “Goin’ to th’ park.” “You think so?” Betelgeuse’s shoulder slump. “Seriously? You take all my stuff away an’ now I can’t even go out?” “You’re still in trouble. Why should you be allowed to go out and have fun?” “Cause that wasn’t specified!” Betelgeuse tries, and then turns to Emily. “Ma, tell him!” Emily mutters in her sleep, and Charles wordlessly sets the coffee down in front of her. The smell hits her nose, and robotically, she lifts the drink to her lips, eyes never opening. “Let BJ go do stuff,” she manages, maybe not as eloquent as she normally speaks, her voice gruff from sleep. Betelgeuse grins up at Charles. His father sips his own coffee, and then pats his son’s head. “Home before dark. No fire, no demon nonsense, no taking drugs from strangers.” “Home at midnight, commit arson, summon Satan, enjoy stranger candy. I gotcha.” Both his children receive a kiss on the head before stuffing Lydia’s little black coffin bag with snacks, and heading out.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````

It’s a big city, and there’s not a loss of things to do, especially with his powers, and there’s no adult supervision today. They find a café and enjoy a big breakfast, then he turns them invisible and they sneak away before the check comes, only reappearing a block later, Lydia grinning wildly. “Food tastes better stolen!” she says, and he pats her head. “There’s my little criminal.” They sneak into a movie, next, some horror thing Lydia had wanted to see that even Emily, the fun parent, had said she was too little for. It’s absolutely a gore fest, but not especially good, and they throw popcorn at the screen and cheer whenever the killer scores another victim.

“I think you’d die early in a slasher,” she says after, scattering their uneaten popcorn on the pavement in front of the theatre. She gets the attention of a whole flock of pigeons, which land and begin pecking at the kernels. “What’s your logic, there?” “You die on screen early and then the twist is you faked your death and were the killer.” “Ohh, classic. I love it.” “I’m a total final girl,” Lydia turns the half empty bucket upside down, much to the joy of the starving sky rats. “And then at the end, it’s like, I knew you were the killer the whole time, and I was just acting. Cause we’re in it together. You know, partners in crime.” He picks her up, slings her over his shoulder. “Always.”

He takes them to Central Park, next, holding her hand behind the theatre and apparating, accidentally, up a tree. She gasps and clings to him, and he digs his claws into the bark of the tree to steady them. “No worries, no worries. I just gotta..” They appear on the ground below, and Lydia looks dizzy. “Feels weird when you do that,” she tells him. “Like riding a rollercoaster, except your limbs are all asleep. But.. Kinda not that, at the same time.” It feels normal to him, but he regularly eats tin cans, so what does he know about normal to begin with?

Lydia takes her camera from her coffin bag, and readies it. It’s a little instamatic she got for her birthday, a few months ago, and she’s going through film like crazy, taking some pretty shitty pictures. He’s not that blunt to her face, though. It’s not like he was a rockstar on the ukulele when he first started, and she’s got a lot of enthusiasm for taking photos. He’s not going to be the one to squash that for her.

Also, he’ll bite off the hand of whoever tries.

“You think this can take pictures underwater?” she asks, aiming her camera at a random woman jogging by. The jogger makes a face, which seems to be what Lydia expects, because she snaps the picture as the woman continues on her way, and the little photo pops out the bottom. Lydia gives it an aggressive shake.

“I’m gonna guess no. Besides, it’s too cold for you to take a swim.” “So let’s go somewhere warmer. I’m thinking Hawaii.” “Good idea, genius, an’ how do you think we’re getting there?” “You can teleport us.”

He actually has to stop and think about that. “I don’t think I could do it in one straight shot,” he says at last. Lydia has moved to a different kind of voyeurism, because she’s on her stomach on the grass, following the movement of a trail of ants with her lens. “I’d probably have to do little distances, an’ get tired and need a nap in th’ middle.”

“Maybe through a mirror? Like Sam?” She adjusts the optic, an entirely useless motion, because this camera doesn’t have any kind of zoom feature. But she’s seen people do it in nature documentaries. “Never done mirror travel before.” He mulls that over. “I’ll practice when I get home, an’ see if I can even pull you through.” “You’re not allowed to go to Hawaii without me,” she gets what she considers her perfect shot, and then stands, brushing off her dark red dress. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They go bone hunting next, Lydia’s camera still at the ready, his keen nose leading the way. It’s easy to find owl pellets, and she breaks one open with her bare hands, as he teases her.

“Ew ew ew, Lydia gross, you’re touching it!” he pitches up his gruff voice to sound like a tweenage girl, and she rolls her eyes. “No skull in this one,” she frowns, wiping her hands on his hoodie.

“Maybe there’s a bodiless mouse head around here, livin’ it’s best life.” She looks doubtful.

Another, different smell hits his sensitive nose, just then. It’s death, new and fresh. His pupils dilate, and he follows it, her trailing after him, assuming he’s on the scent of more animal bones. What they find instead is an old man propped against a tree. He’s still warm, but the color is draining from his face, and rapidly. He doesn’t look hurt, he’s not bleeding. It’s like he sat down for a rest and died.

Lydia doesn’t get it, not right away. Death is a funny punchline in an overly gorey movie. She’s never seen the real thing, before. “Should we wake him up? It’s cold to be sleeping here.” He lifts the man’s arm, and it flops bonelessly back down. Her eyes go wide. “I doubt he’s gettin’ back up, kiddo.” She lifts her camera and takes a picture.

“Hello?” He hears a voice, and turns. The old man is standing next to himself. He looks back at Lydia, but she’s staring in fascination at the corpse, so he leaves her to it. “Hey,” he nods to the man, who looks relieved. “Can you call my grandson? My phone battery died,” he says, not seeming to understand the position he’s in. Betelgeuse tilts his head to the side. “You’re dead,” he says, a bit unkindly, and Lydia, who has been kneeling by the body, poking it, looks up at him. “I am?” “Wh- No, not you, Lyds, th’ stiff.” He gestures to the ghost, who has seemed to notice “himself” laying there. Lydia looks at her brother, confused. “There’s no one there.” “Sure there is. You just can’t see ghosts.”

“That’s me,” the old man says, not that anyone’s listening to him. “Should we tell someone about this?” Lydia asks him, and Betelgeuse shrugs. “Why? Someone will find th’ body eventually. You know. When it starts smellin’ like shit.” “I don’t want to leave him out here.” “Please, don’t leave me out here!” “I wouldn’t want to be left out here.” “Lucky for you, you’re never gonna die. You even try it an’ I’ll shove your soul back down your throat, if I have to.”

He smells the netherworld, and grabs Lydia, pulling her back, in time for another ghost to appear. A guide. The guide doesn’t even take a moment to look around, just instantly busies herself with getting the newly dead situated, and Betelgeuse picks Lydia up and carries her away. “That’s so sad,” she says, taking one last picture of the body from atop his shoulder. “I guess.”

They find the next official looking person they see, someone cleaning up trash, who doesn’t believe them, clearly, until he sees one of the photos Lydia took. The deathly pallor of the old man convinces him to go looking. Thirty minutes later, that part of the park is crawling with breathers, and the two of them are stuck on a bench, being talked to by cops. It’s a whole, boring process, and it’s drawing a big crowd. “Told ya, we shoulda minded our business,” Betelgeuse nudges his sister. Lydia is looking overwhelmed. Neither sibling ever gets this much attention. There’s even a news crew, though he can’t imagine what for. It’s just one old dead guy, and it’s not even a murder. Someone with a microphone tries to approach them, and he turns their mic into a black and white striped snake, forcing them to fling it away from themselves in a panic, and then he grabs Lydia.

They blink from existence and appear a ways away, and Lydia’s clutching his hand harder than she needs to. “Hey, come on.” His grating voice is soft, for her, as he kneels to her level, and she throws her arms around his neck. “How are you so calm? Doesn’t it make you sad?” she asks, softly, and he gives her an extra squeeze. “Happens to all breathers, Lyds. But it’s not somethin’ I gotta worry about, ever. So… no, not really.”

“Will you be sad when I die?”

He scoops her up, holding his little sister in his arms, and stands, her still clinging around his neck. “When you die at a hundred and twenty,” he tells her, carrying her along the path. “Wherever in the netherworld you end up, I’ll go too. Won’t even have time to be sad, me an’ you’ll be too busy causin’ trouble, even then.” She seems satisfied with that answer, and he doesn’t mind carrying her, so they enjoy the autumn leaves like that, her in his arms, as he follows the winding pathways of the park.

They don’t tell Charles and Emily, when they finally do get home, the sun just barely still peaking over the horizon. It doesn’t seem like a good idea, and Lydia doesn’t especially want to talk about it anymore. She pins her new photos up on the twine strung between the tall bedposts in her room. There’s a couple nice ones, and she lets him eat the ones she decides she hates. “Does it count as part of being grounded if you watch my tv?” she asks, and he grins. “Let’s find out.” She pops in Coraline, which he has to assume she’s got fucking memorized at this point, but they also talk through most of it. By the time the tasty looking bug furniture is on screen, her eyelids are drooping. “I dunno why they make her eatin’ bugs so evil. I wanna try beetles from Zanzibar,” he complains, and she just snorts in response “I’ll get you some fancy beetles, for your birthday.” “Kay. Sounds good.” She falls asleep on him a minute later, and he waives a hand, snuffing the lights, but lets the movie finish playing as he settles next to her, and sleeps.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` That next week is boring, but normal. Adam’s in the library every day, despite his earlier insistence that he had better things to do. Betelgeuse honestly just wheels the cart along and lets Adam shelf the books, now, which the nerd seems to unironically enjoy. He’s all smiles as he gets to put things away neatly. It’s embarrassing how endearing and cute Betelgeuse finds that. It’s Tuesday, Barbara isn’t there that day, at least, not right at that moment, so Adam is babbling about her. “Barbara and I aren’t really performers,” he’s telling Betelgeuse, returning a stack of history books to their proper places on the shelves. “But we thought it would be fun to try theatre together, and then we really enjoyed it, so we’ve been in the last two productions. She can really sing, she does this high note, and it’s-” “Angelic, I bet.” Both boys give a stupid, love sick sigh. Adam pauses, and nods, and then studies the other teen. “So.. You.. You like her?” “Yeah,” he says easily. “But that doesn’t mean anythin’.” “What do you mean?” “I mean,” he clarifies, flopping across the cart, stomach first, and laying on it, staring down at Adam, who is crouching to reshelf some more books. “That despite me being a hot piece of ass, I’m probably not her type. I imagine she goes more for…” he studies Adam, trying to think of a nice word for boring, plain and vanilla. “More stable guys,” he lands on. “Like you. I bet she even likes how cute your butt looks in your khakis. I know I do.” Adam flushes. “You think so?” “It’s a good butt.” He nods, and Adam goes redder. “I meant, you think Barbara.. Might like me?” “Well, don’t push your luck, or nothin’, but you probably got a better chance with her.”

“You’re not entirely unlikable,” Adam offers. Betelgeuse lets out a guffaw that’s too loud, because someone in the next aisle over shushes him. “You already forget what I told you Friday?” he rests his head on his hand, tone condescending. “I know no one wants me around.”

“You’re setting yourself up for failure, with that attitude.”

“You think so, huh? Think I just need to hold hands round th’ campfire and sing kumbaya with all you breathers? I don’t think anyone would even take my hand. Probably couldn't get away from me fast enough.” There’s a pause. He doesn’t realize what he’s said until Adam is repeating it. “Breathers?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply, because he feels a push on the cart, and turns to see Barbara, hands on the handle. “You’ve completely given up even trying, haven’t you?” she says, and he thinks she means about the books, and smiles. “No point. Adam’ll just do it for me.” “I mean with talking to people. With making friends.” His smile falls quickly into a scowl, and he runs a hand through his wild mess of green hair. “Lay off me, Babs. I’m bein’ friendly right now, aren’t I?”

“Sure, it’s plenty friendly, letting Adam do your work. But you don’t try, and then you get your feelings hurt when no one does it for you.” That’s not laying off, and it’s irritating him. “You can’t imagine anyone being nice to you, so you’re rude and push everyone away the first chance you get, in case what? In case you make a friend? Kevin probably needs you, right now,” she presses, physically too, making the cart he’s still lying across lurch forward. “I told you what happened to his dad, and you just said he wasn’t even your friend, when everyone knows you spent the last few months holding hands and making googoo eyes at him, and only talking to each other.”

“S’none of your business,” he tugs at his hair, pulling a tuft down to watch the color. Still green. He’s okay, but he keeps it there, in front of his eyes, focusing on it and not having to look at Barbara. “I’m making it my business. What are you so afraid of? What’s with the barrier? I saw you with your sister, you’re normal and nice, to her. So it’s other people you’re afraid of?” “M’not,” he growls out, standing up off the cart. “Afraid of anythin’.”

“You are,” she says, letting go of the cart and stomping to stand in front of him. She’s got him cornered, his back pressed to the bookshelf behind him. He keeps his eyes on that green tuft, biting his bottom lip. “You’re afraid of rejection, so you don’t talk, or you’re a jerk to people. You’re so afraid of other people, you make yourself sit alone every day, even when there’s an empty seat next to someone else.”

“No one wants me around!”

God, that hurts. He can see purple forming in the tip of his hair.

“You think I haven’t tried?” he rasps at her, letting his hair go, and finally looking directly at her. “You think I like sittin’ alone, bein’ the weird kid in every class, not havin’ anyone to talk to? It sucks!” he hears himself being shushed again, and he expends a burst of power in that direction, knocking books off the shelves to hit the person who can’t mind their own business. The sudden noise makes both Adam and Barbara jump. “You ever noticed that anytime I’ve tried, people can’t get th’ hell away from me fast enough? I’m tired of bein’ alone, but every time I try, somethin’ goes to shit, or I'm ignored! So maybe it is easier to just be a jerk an’ not worry about gettin’ hurt, than to keep tryin’ and ache all th’ time.”

It’s the most honest he’s ever been, out loud. Barbara clenches her fists, but doesn’t say anything. He sees Adam push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Lunch isn’t even close to over, and he’s just made more work for himself by knocking those books off the shelf, but he doesn’t care. He grabs his backpack from the cart and pushes past the two of them, and he storms out, forcing the library door to slam, even though it’s a soft close door. It feels more final, that way.

He spends the rest of lunch invisible, to avoid any more trouble with adults, and slumps into his customary seat in the back of every class, for the rest of the day. No one talks to him. He doesn’t try to talk to anyone. It’s a system, it works. Stupid Barbara. What does she even know? Like she can somehow understand anything he’s going through. She’s pretty, and cool, and has a ton of friends, he thinks, absolutely bitter. She doesn’t get it.

He trudges to the drama room after school, and pushes open the door with his shoulder. The seats are in a circle, again, and he chooses a random one, pointedly, away from Adam and Barbara, between two other people. He sits there, silent, and after a moment, the two kids both move seats. How miserably predictable. Come on, he wills himself. No purple, no red. Just stay green. You can go home and freak the fuck out, but just stay green, he begs his hair.

He wipes his nose hard with his hoodie sleeve, and focuses on that, on the texture of the fabric and the way he rubs hard enough for it to hurt. Pain is as close to relief as he can get. Then the chairs next to him are scooted closer, and he blinks, and realizes that Adam and Barbara have settled on either side of him. He doesn’t.. Get it. He can’t understand, but then both of them reach a hand out, and take one of his, and give it a squeeze. It’s grounding. He takes a breath he doesn’t need, and then a couple more, shaky and painful, and he gives their hands a squeeze back, like he’s making sure they’re real. They are.

When the club starts, he tries, very sincerely, to focus on what’s being said, and not the bright hot feeling blooming like a flower in his chest. Read the rest here!!

[craftypeaceturtle]

B is for Baby Time!

Summary: They finally get to meet the newest arrival for their family.

Note: Part of a series but can be read alone! The ABCs of their little family! Demus and Royality. 

The beginning- A is for Arrival

Next part: C is for Choas!

.

They got the call at exactly midnight. The second it turned to December they had prepared everything ready in case the baby would be early; they would not run around like headless chickens when the moment came. They had a baby carrier filled with blankets and a change of baby clothes that stood guard over their front door. But the 10th of December passed without any update. Remus was particularly insufferable but then again Janus had his own special brand of impatience. But all of that fell to pieces when they finally got the call at midnight that their surrogate had gone into labour. The baby was coming.

Janus blanched as he violently slapped Remus’ arm to get him up. He got up and started storming down the stairs all while silently gaping at the phone. Remus slunked after him before it suddenly dawned on him why Janus would be panicking at a phone call. 

The plan had been to sit at home and wait until the baby was born then drive carefully and calmly to the hospital. That lasted a good... 20 minutes? “Do you want to go and wait in the hospital?” Janus finally sighed. Remus’ fidgeting stopped for the first time since the call.

“Why? Do you wanna sit in a waiting room for hours on end?” Remus kept staring ahead. 

“Well I don’t know about you, but I can totally just sit here for several more hours.”

“We...” Remus sighed and wiped at his eyes, “We should be making the most of this really. Our last night of uninterrupted sleep.”

“Okay then, go to sleep then,” Janus laughed. Remus chuckled.

“Okay, let’s get going shall we?” Remus got up and held out his curled arm like the gentleman he was. 

“We shall... after you put actual clothes on. I’m sure the nurses don’t want to see your manky boxers,” Janus chuckled and pulled and flicked him with the waistband.  

They launched themselves at the car and only just remembered to actually grab the baby carrier. Sitting in the hospital room both felt like a relief and horrifically underwhelming. There were here now! They were here ready for any and all news. No need to keep anyone hanging. They felt productive just sitting there. But also... Both of them were just sitting there. In their rushed on jogging bottoms and baggy jumpers, with Remus’ wild bed head and Janus’ own frizzy hair lying limply against his back. They were both shivering as the December weather leaked into the waiting room. “Just time to wait...” Remus smiled weakly. 

An hour passed awkwardly. The second hour passed both quickly and also as painstakingly slowly. 

Remus’ phone vibrated from his pocket:

Evil Twin Bro- Hey, you know lots of weird stuff about getting different stains out right?

- yep

-also it really isn’t that weird. 

-it’s called being an adult.

Evil Twin Bro- Do you know how to get blood out of t-shirt material?

-is it dried or nah

-soak in cold water

-wash like loads of times

Evil Twin Bro- I’ll kill you if this doesn’t work. Also, why are you awake at 2 in the morning you maniac!

-could ask you 2

Evil Twin Bro- I asked you first. 

-baby’s coming.

Evil Twin Bro- Wait really??????!!!!!!!!!

Evil Twin Bro- Congratulations!!!! 

-haven’t got the baby yet. waiting 4 surro. 

Evil Twin Bro- Are you at the hospital?

-yea

Evil Twin Bro- How long have you been waiting?

-like 2h

Evil Twin Bro- Woah, that’s rough. How you holding up?

-dunno

Evil Twin Bro- You don’t know?

-feel like I’m gonna vomit. but also excited. 

-well I don’t know if it’s good vomit or bad vomit y’know?

Evil Twin Bro- I really don’t. What are you lot doing then?

-J fell asleep. I’m trying to save battery on phone. 

-So just sitting here.

Evil Twin Bro- Do you want me to drop stuff off for you? Pat was planning this whole thing for when you lot got the baby. He was going to cook you lot some fancy dinner and take it to you three. So I don’t mind helping you out! I could give you some muffins (trust me you’ll start to get hungry) and I have an iPad with a few films downloaded so you won’t need wifi. 

-jesus why cant you be like everyone else and send a sentence at a time

-we’re all goiufhgb   

-Hello Roman. This is Janus. Yes, we would greatly appreciate you bringing some stuff. 

Evil Twin Bro- Haha, no problem!

“I can’t believe you’re dragging him here,” Remus sighed as Janus wordlessly passed his phone back. 

“Why not?” Janus answered honestly. His whole being looked dragged down by sleepiness. Remus shrugged and looked ahead. Janus usually put so much effort into his appearance. Even the most basic ‘going to the shop’ outfit was a dramatic black and yellow gothic Disney villain who actually did crimes look. But he was simply shrugged over in the chair. He looked sleepily up to him through his hair. 

“Why was he even asking all that at 2am anyway!” 

“You don’t want him to come?” Janus asked, Remus heaved a sigh and plopped his head on top of Janus’. 

“I dunno... I think I’m just tired and panicky. It’s all good,” Remus muttered off to a whisper. He pressed a kiss to his hair and closed his eyes. 

He didn’t actually sleep. He just wanted to stop all conversation. People continued bustling in and out and Janus managed to fall asleep again with his chin propped up against his chest. He was even letting out a steady stream of snorty snores. Remus kept his eyes closed hoping no one would try to start a conversation with him. Janus was the talker to other people of their relationship. He only opened his eyes when he felt a firm prod to his shoulder. 

“Hey Reem,” Roman whispered before flicking his forehead. 

“What do you want dickbag?” Remus answered without thinking. Janus thankfully stayed sleeping. Roman only gave a pity smile and held out his bag. He pulled out some muffins and bottles of flavoured water alongside the promised ipad covered in glittery space stickers. Remus was too busy dumping the bag on the floor to notice Roman trying to get him to stand up. 

“C’mon.” He gestured to over where the reception was. Remus nodded heavily and gently prised himself from Janus. 

Now that they were further away, Remus saw that another hour and a half had passed. “Woah, you took ages?” 

“Yeah, I thought about waking up Pat and then you have no idea what a nightmare it was trying to find a 24 hour shop. Like it was so much harder than I thought!” Roman now spoke loudly with his on brand gestures.

“Right...” Remus fluffed up his hair and slumped into another chair. Hmm, just as uncomfortable as the other. 

“You okay?” Roman lowered himself to his eye line, looking like he was talking to a spooked dog, “Like really?”

“Dunno. I-I just don’t know. I feel a bit all over the place to be honest,” Remus flung his head back, “What did you lot feel?”

“Pretty much the same,” Roman giggled, “Patton was a mess. I think it’s always one person does fine while the other has an existential crisis. That was definitely Pat. But he calmed down the second he got to see Logan.”

Remus nodded, not entirely sure if he was actually listening or just getting lost in the sensation of his heavy head tipping up and down. “Fair,”

“What’s going through your head right now?”

“Dunno... D-Do you...” Remus started before whipping his head to face the wall behind him, “do you think I’ll be like... I dunno a good dad?”

“Of course,” Roman slapped an hand on his shoulder. He was looking forward at the waiting room with an awkward wonky smirk. 

“Okay listen. Let’s be honest. Being emotional and gross with you just feels weird. I’ve been fine with having a baby before this. This is purely me panicking right now. As you said, I’ll be fine. So we can we not do emotional conversation?” Remus laughed awkwardly but he lightened up once Roman relaxed as well.

“Oh thank god you said it!” Roman laughed and melted back into his chair.

“Why were you coated in blood in the middle of the night anyway?”

“I wasn’t coated in blood,” Roman gasped way too loudly which Remus cackled at. Roman blushed bright red and nodded at the concerned receptionist, “I got the most random nose bleed out of nowhere and I knew you were the entire person in existence who wouldn’t question me.”

“You make me sound like a total weirdo! I would question you!”

“But you didn’t!” 

They settled into silence for a bit before inevitably Remus felt the need to speak, “How the hell did mum ever cope with twins? Like that seems like a lot...”

“Right?! Right after we had Logan, I think my mother’s day presents probably tripled in cost. She deserves it. Like all the same build up and worry but then you have another baby to come!” Roman shook his head.

“Aren’t babies are fairly gross as well?” Remus grimaced.

“Oh yeah! Don’t be put off from it! Oh, I feel so awful but the first time I saw Logan my first thought was ‘ew’. They don’t look anything like babies at first. Like Logan was blue with a traffic cone shaped head.”

“Their head is all fragile and mouldable. Janus made sure to show me pictures of newborns,” Remus stared off into nothing before turning to him with his signature smirk, only a little more tired, “But I am so telling Logan you thought he was an ugly baby.”

“Ahem,” Janus stood before them with an expectant look. Remus smiled and held out his arm which Janus jokingly shoved aside to sit down on the chair, “Hello Roman, I’m guessing you’re responsible for the pile of stuff that was at my feet.”

“Yep! How are you doing?” Roman smiled awkwardly.

“Tired but that’s to be expected. Are you staying long?” 

“No, actually that’s a good point! I really shouldn’t stay out longer. Pat will actually murder me for butting myself in,” Roman stood up with an exaggerated old man groan, “But... please text when you finally say hello to the little guy! I expect pictures!” 

Once Roman left, they wandered back over to their stuff and settled into a long night. Janus tried to stay awake. He knew that Remus was having a freak out. You would think it would be easy with the bright harsh lighting in the waiting room and the constant buzzing of conversation. Yet, his head bobbed lower and lower before Remus finally guided his head to his shoulder. He really tried but the tiredness and mix of emotions left him helpless. Remus only smiled at his useless husband before settling himself into Roman’s ipad. He settled into the Incredibles without much else to do. 

It was 5am when Remus saw the husband of the surrogate walk over to them. He didn’t think about it has he flung himself upwards, flinging Janus wide awake. The guy looked exhausted. “Hey, Remus and Janus?” He asked, thoroughly mispronouncing Janus, with his hand held out. Remus nodded awkwardly before thrusting a still waking up Janus at him.

“Yes, hello.” Janus shook his hand firmly. 

“Hey so the baby’s arrived,” He spoke softly as he walked back into the winding corridors he emerged from. They quickly followed after him, “He’s 6lb and about 20 inches. A little small thing but all healthy and average.”

“Aw, that’s all good to hear. Congratulations,” Janus sleepily smiled.

“Thanks but I think I’m supposed to be saying that to you two!” The guy chuckled awkwardly before he opened a door for them. 

Inside was the mother looking absolutely exhausted, curled up into her pillow with her frizzy hair thrown about the place. Janus subconsciously flicked his hand through his own hair, only now realising that he never brushed it before coming out. Ah well, not like anyone was looking their best for the demon of the baby that woke them all up. And of course there was the star of the show.

The baby was fussing a clear plastic crib looking thing, his reddened arms flinging around with his tiny little feet occasionally kicking. His face was screwed up but at least he wasn’t crying. He was simply laying there. The little boy that would change everything. 

Janus managed to pull away from the sight and say something to the mother. Remus deserved the first moments with their son. 

Remus looked at the mother but she was busy talking so he quietly shrugged before holding his hands out. It felt bad. They baby was clearly still fussy but quiet. What if picking him up set him off? But his hands were also hanging over him now. Sighing, he gently lowered his hands so they just about touched the tiny baby. He was warm to the touch and Remus grimaced at his thoughts that erupted from that. Maybe it was just because he was in a warm room. It felt like he was five years old all over again. It was like when a relative you barely know has a baby and just dumps the baby in your arms because it’s cute but you have no idea how to hold this fragile floppy new human. 

The baby sniffled at feeling his hands slowly worm underneath him but Remus then swiftly took hold of him and brought him to his chest, quietly shushing him without thinking. Thankfully, he settled down instantly. He was somehow both tiny and way heavier than he thought. “Heya little fella,” He cooed as he tried to uncurl his fist. The baby’s tiny little fingers uncurled and pressed back against his own finger. 

“He’s gorgeous,” Janus sighed as he came up behind Remus.

“Aw, he is. What are you guys naming him again?” The mother quietly asked.

“Virgil,” Remus answered but he kept his eyes glued to his baby. Janus smoothed his hand over the baby’s head. 

“Oh that’s a unique name!” The mother chirped.

“Has two people with unusual unique names, it only felt appropriate,” Janus muttered but his focus was completely enraptured by the baby, “Reem, do you mind doing the last of the paper work, then we can leave you all to recovery.”

“Cheers,” The father smiled awkwardly. Remus held out the baby and graciously lowered him into his arms. He perked up when he felt Remus press a kiss to his cheek, god he was clearly felt so sappy today. Not that he could really blame him.

They brought the baby carrier into the room ready to take him home and of course his eyes caught on their supplies. They brought a infant onesie- the cutest and non-halloween themed one they bought- but yet Janus frowned at the thought of trying to wrestle this baby into clothing. He looked much more comfortable pressed to his chest that he did lying down but he still looked like he could be seconds away from crying again. Of course, he couldn’t even begin to understand how stressful birth must be. The poor thing. He awkwardly bent backwards and grabbed the same blanket they bought about a month ago. Despite how much he tried, he couldn’t get out the black marker stain. It was just the first blanket they grabbed when preparing. Obviously. Of course. The first thing they grabbed. He grappled with the baby to gently cocoon him in the purple blanket. The spider web spiral sat in the middle of his back making him look like their little spider sitting in the middle of his purple spider web. 

He didn’t track when Remus came back in. He didn’t even think to keep up conversation with the biological parents. All he knew was that he was slowly stepping back and forth while pressing his face into Virgil’s own squishy cheek. 

Their little baby Virgil. 

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH26

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: Angst and aw fluff and angst again.

WC: 3463

A/N: Please, if you want to be tagged for the rest of the series, let me know.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The ride in the ambulance is bumpy and loud. The beeping of machines that keep Y/N alive are noisy and she has a pipe down her throat. Dean’s holding her hand to stop his own from shaking. He’s still crying, the tears drip down the tip of his nose, drops onto the stretcher she’s lying on.

They arrive and Dean follows them as they wheel her in, running through doors until he isn’t allowed to go any further. And it’s hard. Hard for someone who lives in illegality to follow rules and boundaries. It takes everything in him not to burst through that door and go into surgery with her. 

Dean rakes both hands through his hair before crashing his fist against the wall. It hurts. But it’s not nearly enough. Not enough to take the fucking pain away.

He slumps down into the next chair he can find and covers his face with his hand. 

“Dean!” 

At the mention of his name, Dean looks up to see Cas walking towards him. The man sits down next to him wordlessly. Neither of them said a word after.

Dean doesn’t really know how long they have been sitting there. It felt like hours, days — fucking years.

“Do you want me to call Sam?” 

“Huh?” Dean jerks his head up and tilts his face to the side to be reminded that Cas’ still here. “No,” Dean says, and then adds, “No, I don’t need him to worry about this life anymore.”

This life. His life.

That’s no way to live, he once told her.

If it wasn’t for this life, he wouldn’t be here. Y/N wouldn’t have been shot. 

This life sucks.

“Do you,” Dean starts, “Do you sometimes think how your life would be if you wouldn’t be doing what you’re doing?”

Cas breathes out, “All the time.” And then he adds, “But I also see the good in it. If I wouldn’t be doing all this, I wouldn’t have met you and the rest of the family. It’s not the life that makes it good. It’s the people in it.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have met her either.” Dean agrees. “But I still want out.”

“And we’ll get there. Just give it time.”

Dean closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. He doesn’t know how much time has passed but when he opens his eyes again, Cas’s standing there with a steaming plastic cup of coffee in his hand.

He takes the cup out of Cas’ hand, realizes that his own hands are still bloody, “Thanks.”

“How is she?” Cas jerks his head towards the door they are not allowed to go through. 

It’s the first time Cas asks about Y/N. He’s considerate. Probably gave Dean time to process before he dared to ask. Dean knows and appreciates it.

“Emergency surgery.” Dean’s voice is small. “She still had a pulse when we arrived, apparently it’s a good sign.” He only hopes it’s enough to keep her the fuck alive.

Cas nods and Dean empties his coffee. They sit in silence some more until someone in scrubs comes out of the forbidden door.

“Are you the one who was with the patient? Dean Winchester?”

Dean stands up too fast, his head’s spinning. He pinches his nose and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before he manages to answer. “Yeah.”

“She just woke up and asked to see you. I’ll get the papers ready and will be rolling her to her room, if you can just wait a couple of minutes?”

“Yeah, sure.” Dean’s unable to feel his own heart beating. Maybe it stopped. He watches the woman walk towards the door where the reception is situated.

She’s alive.

She’s— fuck. Dean’s heart is beating out of his chest.

“Uh, Dean?”

He turns around to see Cas still in his seat. “Huh?”

“Yeah, uh, you might wanna wash your face and hands.”

“Yeah.” Dean says and walks towards the door he’s not allowed to go through.

“The other way.” Cas says.

“Yeah, I know.” Dean answers, he is breathing hard, feels nauseous all of a sudden.

  Y/N vision is still blurry and her throat hurts from something they rammed down there. It makes her cough and every time she does, her wound starts to hurt. She tilts her head to the side, sees Dean talking to the doctor before he walks towards her. 

She can detect a small smile on his face but the rest of it hangs in a dark cloud. His bow tie hangs loose around his neck on either side, the top three buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned and his jacket is missing. It’s weird how she can detect small details like this just short out of surgery but her ability to see details is logged in her brain.

“Hey,” He says and kneels down to brace his elbows on her bed, his fingers brush away at the hair on her forehead.

“Hi,” Her voice is scratchy.

“You’re alive.” He kisses her cheek and she really wishes that he would climb into bed and hold her. Wishes for him to blanket her in with his body, make her wake up from this surreal dream.

“Yeah.” She nods to that.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, takes her hand in his and kisses it. She breaks away from his hand to brush at the tear that rolls down his cheek. 

“Don’t be.” 

“They said you’ll be okay. You were shot below the clavicle, it’s a clean wound. You can go home in a couple of days.”

“Ugh.” Y/N groans out. “I hate hospitals.”

Dean chuckles at that, “Well let me see what I can do with my money to get you home sooner.”

“Stop spending money on me, Dean.”

“I already dropped two hundred thousands, what’s a little more?” He leans down, kisses her forehead.

She doesn’t ask about Cain. Already knows what probably happened. She wants to forget it. Wants to erase it from her mind.

“Dean, I’m tired.” She says instead of asking about Cain, because it’s true. She feels the strain of the surgery, the enormous amount of painkillers that’s still pumping into her body. 

“That’s okay. Sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up, alright?” 

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to.”

She doesn’t remember a lot but she remembers Dean stroking her head until she fell asleep.

 ***

 Y/N wakes up again to see Dean sitting at a desk in her hospital room. It’s a different room than she fell asleep in. This one is more spacious, has a big couch and a little desk, a table that seats four, off to a wall. But it’s still a hospital room nonetheless. The coziness of it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still ugly and sterile. She hates hospitals. Ugh.

Dean’s working on his laptop, typing out something with a crease between his eyebrows. He’s changed too, is wearing something else. Something with less blood on it but he still looks like a walking billboard ad, except that his scruff is slowly and surely turning into a beard.

She likes that. Likes how much softer he looks with a beard.

Sitting up a little, she also sees that she’s in a different bed. It’s slightly bigger than the one she was in before. She watches Dean work for a while, he’s so deep into his work and lost in concentration that he doesn’t even notice that she’s been awake.

Tilting her head to the side, she looks out the window, they’re quite high up, the next high rise is still towering over them, though. 

There’s a bouquet of flowers on the table next to her bed, her phone is also there, connected to a charger and there’s a jug and a glass filled with water. Next to it, are pain meds. She looks down on herself, sees that she’s still in an ugly hospital gown that probably has her backside wide open.

Ugh.

Her throat feels awfully dry so she reaches out her hand for the glass. Her hands are still a little shaky, and it takes her two tries to finally be able to grab it. Gently, she puts it to her lips, tilts the glass and takes a sip. Setting the glass back again, she flinches at the pain. Y/N turns her attention back to Dean to see him leaning back in his seat and watching her with a grin on his face. 

“Hi,” She blushes a little because how can she not.

Dean stands up and strolls towards her, his hands in his pants pockets. The smile grows bigger the closer he gets and she forgot how pretty he can be. My god, he’s beautiful. The light makes his freckles stand out. 

His eyes are still a little red rimmed. Because he cried, she thinks. Feels guilty because she didn’t want to make him cry. It wasn’t her intention. 

He sits on the side of her bed, bends down to kiss her forehead. “Hi,” He says when he sits back up. His hands leave his pockets, and one of them is holding her hand while the other one is stroking her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot at.” She says, grinning a little and Dean rolls his eyes. 

He chuckles at her joke before he pulls himself together. “I was able to move you into a private suite.”

“I don’t even wanna ask how you did that.”

He snorts, “Well, in my defense, it wasn’t me, even if I want to take all the credit for it. It’s actually Crowley who pulled the strings.” And then he goes on, “Anyway, the flowers are from Sam and Jess.” 

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” Dean groans. “Ew, they don’t know you at all.” 

“No, that’s actually nice.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, “So, you accept flowers from everyone else but you don’t want flowers from me, got it.”

She laughs, but that’s a bad idea because it hurts and she flinches, “I just don’t want you to spend money on things that won’t last.”

Dean nods, letting her words sink in but he doesn’t say anything further, instead he looks around before he begins to speak again. “I got Cas to go get things from home. He brought you your phone and a set of clothes for you to change into when you get released.”

“You haven’t been home yourself?”

“No.” 

“Oh,” She says, “And Cuddles?”

“Cas.”

“He’s allergic.”

Dean laughs, “Yeah, I know.”

“Oh my god, poor guy.” 

“Cuddles or Cas?”

She thinks about it. “Probably both.”

  On the fourth day she gets released. Dean had to pull some strings, because she can only be released when all the criteria are met. He quickly employs a nurse and with the help of Sergei, they will be good to go soon.

She walks around in her hospital gown, muttering something while he’s packing his things. 

“Sweetheart, what is it?” Dean zips up his laptop bag, walks to sit on the bed and guides her to stand between his thighs. 

“Cas.”

“Cas?” Dean frowns.

“Have you seen his choice of clothes?”

Dean’s doing his best to bite back a laugh, it’s not really working and she stares him down. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, “He probably had good intentions.”

“Dean, a glittery tube dress is not how I wanna dress to go home. Well, at least he brought leggings? So yay?”

He’s still grinning like an idiot, he knows that, but how can he not, she’s cute when she’s upset. “Well, to be fair, I gave him an earful myself when I saw it but he said that he just wanted for you to not use your shoulders too much while getting in and out of shirts.”

Y/N lowers her head, and he knows that she probably rethinks her options. “I’m really thinking about going home with that gown.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Dean chimes in and it’s the first time that he dares to touch her, touch her ass, and it’s exciting. He missed it, missed the feeling of her flesh underneath the palm of his hands. She hasn’t been wearing underwear and he skids his hands over her bottom, rests it on the small of her back. “It’s easy access.”

If looks could kill, he’ll be dead.

“I can offer you a shirt.” He says, tries to make her comfortable. 

“Please,” She whines, and he has to grin at that. He kisses her and stands up to walk over to his overnight bag, fishes out a shirt, he doesn’t have a new one left but an old one will do just fine. Besides, he likes her smelling like him, too. So, it’s kind of a win-win situation they got here.

He gets back to the bed, shirt in hand, guides her back between his legs and strips her off her gown, lets it fall to the floor. Bad idea, he thinks, because she’s standing there naked and he can’t help it. Is already half hard just by looking at her. 

“Maybe I have to mention that Cas didn’t bring you new underwear.”

“Of course he didn’t.” 

“I told him not to because I can’t stand the thought of him going through your panties and bras.” He adds, as he let her slip into his shirt. She’s flinching a little. 

Dean buttons up the shirt and pulls her forward, both hands on her hips. “You’re as beautiful as ever.” He says, purses his lips into a grin and there’s a small smile on her face, a hint of pink in her cheeks.

“Okay,” He says, “Now we should wear pants before I’m doing something I’m not supposed to.”

  A flock of nurses were standing in front of her hospital room when Dean and Y/N walked out. It’s like they’ve been waiting to get a look at Dean. He is clearly the star here because since she woke up, there’s always someone coming to knock at their door and ask Dean if he needs anything when it’s her who’s recovering from an injury. She can’t blame them though. He’s really easy on the eye.

He holds all his things in one hand while he has one arm around her. He looks like he’s been struggling with the load and she told him that he can walk twice but apparently, Dean Winchester doesn’t take two trips.

 *

 Back at home, Cuddles is lying next to her on the bed while Dean takes his laptop to bed and works from there. He doesn’t say anything, and it seems like he doesn’t mind that Cuddles is in their bed, but she guesses it’s just a temporary thing he tolerates because she’s not fully recovered yet. Dean makes some calls too, keeping his voice low as not to be a big disruption, but she’s still too knocked out from pain meds to listen to it anyway. She tunes the voices out, strokes Cuddles until she falls asleep.

The next morning Dean wakes her up with coffee and a tray of breakfast. “You have to eat before taking those pills, sweetheart.” He says and sits down next to her, back leaning against the headboard. He watches her eat in silence but he has his phone in his hand and was thumbing and typing away on it.

She guesses it’s about that big thing and decides to bluntly ask him about it, “How’s work going? Is that big thing still on?”

He pauses from staring at his phone screen. “Yeah,” He looks at her then, “We’re figuring out details.”

“When is it?”

Dean grins, “You shouldn’t be thinking about it. It’ll hurt your pretty head.” And in another breath he says, “It’s still gonna be a couple of months, but we’re getting there.”

And then, it’s like a dam broke in him and he starts to tell her everything. She got to know more than she bargained for. He’s telling her about the whole operation, who’s involved, how they are doing it, how much money he's gonna be making. He asks her for her opinions, too. 

“Do you think it’ll work out?” 

She thinks, and it might have been a longer pause than she’d anticipated. She wants to help him, wants so much for him to be happy but she also wants to please Linda. Why can’t she have both?

“Have you thought about a decoy?” She asks him and he looks at her like she’s crazy. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just risky to me if you put everything on this operation, and it’s illusive to think that someone won’t interfere with it, is all.” She shrugs and sees Dean scratch at his scruff, which he has trimmed this morning, as if he thinks that there’s some truth behind her words.

“I need to make a call.” He then says, kisses the top of her head. “I’ll be right back.”

 *

 He draws her a bath later, carries her to the tub, undresses them both and helps her in before he follows her. He leans against the tub, lets her sit between his thighs and lean her head back onto his chest. She still has a plastic bandage on her chest and Dean’s careful not to get it wet.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he sits there and lets her wash herself. She wanted it that way, feels a little weirded out at the thought that Dean has to wash her. 

She finishes and leans back, wonders if he’s not grossed out by stewing with her in her filth. “Good. Much better, actually. How long did they say that I had to rest?” 

“At least another week.”

“Ugh.”

Dean snorts, “Yeah. But I’m here along the way.”

They get out with him carrying her over the ledge because he’s too afraid of her slipping out and falling down. He gets into the showers with her, rinsing off the bathwater and she sees that he’s hard. 

“Do you need help with that?” She asks, a smirk on her face.

He raises an eyebrow. “Stop staring, I’m trying to be good.”

She shrugs. “I mean, I can.”

Dean lets out a frustrated groan and gets out to wrap himself into a towel before holding one out for her. 

***

 Y/N’s been at home for four days now and is feeling significantly better. She could drop one of her pain killers, and Sergei is very happy with the healing of the wound. She’s now able to hold things in her right hand again, like her phone, or a pencil and she’s back to drawing, too.

She wants to call Linda, tell her what’s going on but she’s never had a minute to herself. Dean’s always present and as much as she likes that he’s been so attentive, she also needs space to breathe. So when he comes to the bedroom with Crowley on the other line and asks her if it was okay when he goes out for a meeting, she might be too enthusiastic with her reply that it was more than okay. The crease between his eyebrows grows but then she adds that he please bring back something from Bobby’s, his face lights up again, pleased that she has found her appetite. 

After Dean had left, she waited for another twenty minutes, just to be extra sure. 

Linda picks up at the second ring. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” 

“My god, I was worried. I haven’t heard anything for over a week! What happened? Are you alright? Is everything okay? Is this a hostage situation I have to get you out of?”

“Linda, first of all. Can you calm down? Your questions are hurting my head!”

“Sorry,” 

Y/N takes a deep breath before she begins to tell Linda about everything. Everything from the day she made the deal with Linda until the present day. And Linda listens for once, doesn’t interrupt her and her train of thought.

“Will you be able to hold your part of the deal?” Linda asks at last, after she spoke out her concern for Y/N’s wellbeing. 

“Yes.” 

“Okay, I have already started to set everything in place for the due date. You said it’s gonna be a couple of months, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Good. I still have time to make final arrangements. I’ll text you further instructions and coordinates once it’s final.”

“Good.”

“Take care, Y/N. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She hangs up, throws her phone away and buries her face in her pillow. She tries not to cry, doesn’t want Dean to see that she’s been crying because he always knows when she did. It’s annoying really. 

CH27

[shiftytracts]

Stop Wanting More, part 2 of 2 (T/M/A fic)

In which season-four Jon tries to quiet his hunger for live statements by gorging himself on paper ones, and Daisy tells him what she used to do when she got shaky between hunts. Part one here.

Content warnings for this half:

Nausea, and brief descriptions of prior vomiting

Vague discussion of Daisy’s passive suicidality

Animal cruelty and death: Daisy talks about hunting rats for sport

—

“Statement of Alice ‘Daisy’ Tonner, regarding—”

“Shhhh! You’ll wake the tape recorder.” Her hand clapped over his mouth so hard his teeth buzzed like mugs in a cupboard. He did his best to say Ouch. The salt on her palm made his inner lips itch. Daisy sighed: “Too late; I can hear it hissing.”

At once the cushions began to lurch again, and his stomach contents with them. On her way past him off the couch Daisy managed both to step on his trouser leg and elbow him in the sacrum. Chills curled up in the shadows of heat she’d left on his forehead, stomach, legs. Her way back into her prior position went smoother, though. She even remembered how tightly to press his belly with hers. Why did returned warmth always make him shiver?

“Alright—skip the spiel. Just Ask.”

“What did you used to do when—” Daisy cut him off with a hollow laugh, which Jon seconded. As soon as he’d begun to speak the tape recorder clicked back on, as he’d suspected it would.

“Whatever; just do it.”

“You won’t be too self-conscious?”

She shrugged. “Won’t matter; I’ll be compelled.”

Jon bit down the wave of remorse and resentment her words stirred inside him. She’d agreed to this—cajoled him into it, even. He could examine those feelings later, when she’d gone to bed. When he was alone, and warm, and.

Unbidden into his head came the passage from Tristram Shandy about the “beds of justice.” He’d never read it before, having got through hardly ten pages of that book, and wondered now for half a second how Beholding could have thought this would help, until there thundered across his mind the words, I write one half full,—and t’other fasting;—or write it all full,—and correct it fasting;—or write it fasting; and Jon swallowed, as if that would make it stop. Less than a second later he could feel his stomach trying to expand around it.

Last week he’d tried reading an encyclopedia—vore-ing it, cover to cover. No good; he quit a third of the way in, when it bored him so much he caught himself fantasizing about its giving him a paper cut he’d have to get up to attend to. Eating fear-free trivia was like trying to fill up on tic tacs. Only when stuffed could he even feel it going down.

He told himself if he didn’t Ask her for her story now he’d only spoil his dinner with more useless facts.

“What did you used to do when you got shaky between hunts?”

“I hunted rats around my flat,” Daisy said at once, in the expressionless way of compulsion. In a voice more like her own, she went on, “Not inside, not at first, just—around the dumpsters. First my building’s, and then some nights the whole block. However long it took before I got too slow to enjoy chasing.

“Then one night I thought I saw one dart past in the corridor. So I left out bait for it, half hoping it’d attract more rats into the building. It worked; I found three in there that week.”

“What do you mean bait?”

Again her first sentence emerged as though she were reading it off a list. “Leftovers, mostly. Wasn’t hard—I didn’t have much appetite for” (in one-handed air quotes, with a huff of laughter) “'people food,’ anyway. I’d just make sure to leave a few bites unfinished, and stick them under the mat at the top of the stairs. Sandwich crusts usually, nothing gross. When I got Chinese takeaway I’d use the cabbage they put in the box.”

To make air quotes Daisy’d had to fish her hand out from under the blanket. Now she returned it to its slot on the side of his gut where hip gave way to bloat. Jon almost wished she hadn’t; he feared the reminder might weigh him down. He felt giddy and light, like if he stood and walked, hell, ran, it might not hurt his legs and chest. Like if he flapped his hands instead of wringing them he’d bump the ceiling. For Daisy to comfort his body he’d have to remember he had one.

“How did you catch them? It does—uh.” Whichever Watcher department took charge of compulsion seemed to know his question ended here, because Daisy responded before Jon could finish his follow-up sentence. (It doesn’t sound like you laid traps, he’d meant to say.)

“By the tail. I ran after them and stepped on their tails and then.” She paused for an entire second and closed her eyes tight, but by the time Jon realized what this meant she’d already concluded: “I snapped their spines with my shoe.”

That was all she said, but not all he learnt about it. The Eye let him—made him hear the crunch. For an instant it shared with him the satisfaction Daisy’d felt at the finality of that sound. It had been a sore spot for her, a then-recent wound, how many monsters didn’t die when you broke their necks.

Then her satisfaction left him, and he felt intensely sick.

“Stop—don’t say any more—I’m sorry Daisy, I didn’t—”

She snarled a sigh. “Yeah, I know. Guess I should’ve told you not to ask about that part.”

“Oh. No, it’s. I'm alright, I just meant, it looked like you… didn’t want to tell me that.”

“No I didn’t,” Daisy concurred, in a tone so flat he wondered whether he’d somehow compelled it.

“Is there anything else you don’t—er. What other questions about this would you prefer I didn’t ask.”

She shrugged. “Everything else is fair game.”

“Okay,” Jon said, wishing that answer reassured him more. “You don’t—need a minute, or?”

Again she shrugged. “Yeah, alright. You look like you might, anyway. How’s your gut feeling.”

It took him a moment to realize she meant his actual gut, not like. When he did he answered without thinking: “Not bad? Ignorable, mostly, but. That in itself is.” He looked down at his fingertips for some loose skin to peel. “I’m… stronger, now, already, my. My limbs feel like.”

Daisy nodded. “Like they could carry you without having to think about it.”

“Quite,” Jon agreed, though he wished as soon as the word left his mouth that he’d picked a different one. Something that sounded less like he wanted to talk about the phenomenon’s downside, its sinister implications. He very much did not.

“The rats, did you… eat them?”

“Ew, Jon,” she replied, like it was obvious. “Not literally, no. Didn’t have to. You don’t literally eat statements either, yeah? I just killed them and it… fed me.”

“But didn’t satisfy you,” Jon suggested.

“No. They didn’t make me less hungry, just made it easier to sleep. And they made my belly swell up like yours.” (She patted his; he huffed in pretended offense.) “That’s why I only did it after I’d gone home for the night: it made me slow. I’d know I’d had enough to go to bed when I couldn’t run after them anymore. When I tried to go without—I couldn’t keep my eyes closed. Soon as I stopped thinking about it, they’d fly open. Or at least, it never felt like I slept. Guess I must’ve done, though, ‘cause sometimes I’d find myself chewing on the bedding.” Daisy shook her head, with a sigh interpretable also as a laugh. “Think I’ve started doing that again. I keep finding holes in Basira’s sleeping bag.”

“Not yours, though?” Jon knew she and Basira slept with the edges of their two sleeping bags zipped together. (A frankenbag, Daisy called it.)

Daisy grinned: “No. Hers is a better texture.”

“Thought you said you didn’t remember doing it.”

“I don’t, but mine looks like it’d be grosser to have in your mouth.”

In reality, Jon had never seen her sleeping bag up close, but now Beholding showed him what it looked like. Once kelly green but now faded grayish, like a pond; the fabric was all over pills. It smelled like wood smoke, Ritz crackers, and the lone sock one finds at the bottom of every suitcase.

“That’s fair,” Jon allowed, hoping the strain in his voice would sound to her like a laugh. Somehow this piece of information, about the godforsaken sleeping bag, had brought his stomachache back way above the “ignorable” waterline. The nauseating smell, maybe? He tried to steady himself with a deep breath, but, well.

“You look sick.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“You’re not subtle, Jon,” she scoffed; “you gasp and writhe.”

Jon tried to shrug, tried to laugh. “I’m fine. It’s just… a lot. I’m alright, I’ve just never.” What, been this full? Compelled an eldritch snack after having already eaten his weight in paper? As if that weren’t obvious. He drew in breath to speak, but still hadn’t thought of an end to his sentence. Then he felt Daisy’s hands—both of them—start to dig shallow trenches, one up each of his sick sides. His breath came out in a shaky sigh.

“That help?”

“Yeah.”

Each time they reached his ribs—or, in the left side’s case, the place where his ninth and tenth ribs used to be—her hands turned back, in a slight arc so that they made narrow ovals, each a little closer to his stomach’s center than the last. Until they met in the middle, then worked their way slowly back out to his sides.

“Could you… keep doing that while I hear the rest of your.”

Her laugh had an edge to it that miiiight have been contempt? But she said, “Sure. What do you still want to know?”

“Uh.” He pretended to have to think about it. “Why don’t you hunt rats now?”

“I don’t want to kill things just because they’re weaker than me.” Daisy’s hands had frozen in place while she spoke these words; now they resumed. She sighed, but Jon wasn’t sure at what. “Rats are fine, they don’t need to die.”

“I wouldn’t say they’re fine,” Jon scoffed; “pretty sure they serve the Corruption. They spread hantavirus, ratbite fever, lymphocytic”—he paused to swallow a wave of nausea, hoping it was the ugliness of these facts and not their sheer bulk that sickened him. He hoped also that she’d assume his voice had caught on the pronunciation, rather than. He cleared his throat and continued: “Lymphocytic choriomeningitis, and leptospirosis. And the plague, of course, though not without help from.”

Daisy groaned, her teeth bared to the canines. Jon could feel her fingers curl into fists, though thankfully none of his skin got trapped between her nails and palms. “That’s exactly the kind of judgment I’m trying not to make anymore. They’re—they’re also good, okay? Rats. Had a friend with a rat once, when I was a kid.” For an instant Jon wondered if she meant Calvin Benchley. Then the Eye told him she did. “You can teach them tricks. Like dogs. His knew how to fetch, roll over, go through mazes to find treats. And they’re affectionate, friendly. The tails are weird, but—they have sweet eyes.”

A huff of laughter tumbled out of Jon’s nose. “All animals have sweet eyes. That’s a pretty low bar.”

“Don't flatter yourself.”

The Ceaseless Watcher seemed to side with her on this, showing him the eyes of lemurs, flies, goats, anglerfish (the regular kind).

“Either way, I hardly think that outweighs the plague.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Daisy insisted, still sounding querulous. She’d retracted her hands now, and held them balled together close to her chest—like Jon himself did when he felt too shy to stim outright. If they hadn’t been talking about rats the attitude probably wouldn’t’ve struck him as rat-like, but.

“It doesn’t always need to matter which one of those things is more important,” she went on. “It feels like it does, but—sometimes that’s just a habit we get into. Some things just are, okay? I like not having to think about it anymore.”

“Right, that makes sense, we can….”

“Besides. I didn’t care about any of that when I was hunting them. The diseases or whether they’re part of the Filth or whatever. I just knew they were gross, and that people were scared of them. That’s the main reason I killed monsters, too.”

“What if you just… caught them and let them go?”

“Monsters?”

“No, rats.”

“I don’t want a substitute, Jon. I’m alright going cold turkey.”

“But it’s not cold turkey, it’s—no turkey.”

Daisy looked at him for the first time in what felt like a while, and smiled, but furrowed her eyebrows. “Just what do you think ‘cold turkey’ means?”

“I know there’s no actual turkey,” Jon sighed, trying to ignore the Eye’s barrage of suggestions for where the phrase might have originated. God, his stomach hurt. He missed having her hands there to rub away some of this nausea and ache. Wondered what he could say to bring them back. Doing it himself at a time like this would’ve felt so. “I just mean, withdrawal is—different. It can kill you, but you’re still abstaining from something that people in general don’t need to live.”

“Aaaand you think people in general need the Hunt.”

“Of course not. I know you know what I’m getting at,” Jon persisted. “You’re talking about starvation—which, unless for some reason the Fears are too sentimental to throw their old husks away, means it will kill you. Not just—‘can.’”

“Maybe. Probably, yeah. If some monster doesn’t come around to kick me off the wagon first. I’ve told you that before, though.”

“…Okay. Yes, you have, that’s. Yes. So then—?”

“What?”

“Why are you giving me a statement!?”

“To commiserate,” Daisy recited first, in the flat tone of compulsion—and then, “Shhh!”

“Tape recorder’s already on.”

“Yeah but Basira’s out there; she might—be asleep. It’s not a statement,” said Daisy. “Just a story.”

As usual Jon let himself fall into the trap. Was it a statement? By Institute standards, maybe not; he wasn’t sure it counted as a supernatural encounter, except from the rats’ perspective. And most of the fear in it was the rats’, too. He supposed you could call it an encounter with her own changing nature? Statement of Alice ‘Daisy’ Tonner, regarding her supernatural hunger and how she.

“But why would you feed me a story when the answer you come to at the end of it is that it’s better to starve?”

This time he didn’t mean to compel her—was sure he’d phrased it indirectly enough not to. But Jon was surer yet Daisy wouldn’t have given the answer she did except under compulsion:

“Because I felt sorry for you.” Then she winced, bared her teeth, shook her head; Jon wondered if she’d felt that one. It seemed like people usually didn’t—just heard themselves speak words they hadn’t meant to, and surmised what had happened from that. But maybe after so many in a row she’d begun to feel the static.

“For what? Why?”

“For feeling evil. Because it reminded me of me.” In her own voice: “Think maybe I wanted it off my chest, too.”

So, what? The moral high ground was alright for her, but he was too weak for it? Or, or not, what, spiritually advanced enough to walk that plane? Because he hadn’t been conscious for his six-month limbo between life and death, like she’d been in the coffin?

“But you resist, so—? Why wouldn’t you think I should starve too?” On the ocean floor of his stomach something evil emerged from its hole. “Hhh—wait, don’t answer that, I’m—”

Too late. “Because eating the statements doesn’t hurt anything. The ones already written down—just recording them, it’s harmless. And you can’t give me bad dreams anymore, so—ugh.” Jon opened his eyes to find Daisy clawing at her temples. She shook her head, to the extent she could without knocking into his. “I told you I'm trying not to do that anymore.”

I’m not ready, Jon had meant to say. But seeing how little she liked having answered, he wished he could claim it was for her sake he’d tried to stop her.

He still wasn’t ready to hear or think or talk about this, really. The top half of his belly seared with such pain he couldn’t think straight; lower down it squirmed. He felt perilously sick. His whole body wanted so badly to curl into a ball that his legs wouldn’t quit twitching against Daisy’s. He pressed his elbows into his sides, while his hands hovered, pathetically he was sure, just over the top and center of a stomach he feared would pounce if he dared touch it.

But he felt like owed her some proof he’d been listening. “Do…?”

“Judge people. Decide what’s right for them.”

“I see,” Jon lied; that was all he could manage for now. In truth he needed a break before he could even parse what she had said.

“Turns out I can’t lie to myself under compulsion either. I didn’t think that was the reason?—thought I was just not judging you.”

“I think”—he pushed himself back from her, sure for a second that he was about to be sick. It passed, but his breath caught on it as on panic, so he couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.

Especially not since Daisy too shot upright, her nails loudly scraping the cushion behind her as she hurled herself against it. “Shit—turn around—not on the couch—”

“I’m okay, it’s.” He did turn around, just to ease her mind, but the motion required had quite the opposite effect on him. Jon heard the sounds of ragged breath and whimpering, then recognized his own voice behind them.

Daisy’s hands came to perch one on the back of his shoulder, the other on his side between rib and pelvis. “Don’t worry about it, just get it out. We’ll clean it up later—just like last time, remember?” The fingertips of the hand on his side twitched back and forth at his stomach’s very outer edge.

“N—o, I.” He swallowed. “I think I’m alright.” Tried opening his eyes. Nope, not ready. His breath shuddered again. Daisy’s hands vanished from his shoulder and side; he heard the flapping sound of a blanket being shaken out, then felt it flutter and settle on top of him. Must’ve got dislodged when he rolled over, though he was warm enough now he hadn’t noticed. Dimly he recognized this as a victory.

Her hand moved to stroke his back; she kept saying Shhh, but not in the harsh way she had earlier. “You, uh.” Again Jon swallowed, though what ailed him was a lack of spit rather than excess of it. “You weren’t nearly this nice last time.”

“What?” The hand on his back stilled. “I was too! I tied your hair back for you! I let you ruin my jumper by wiping your pukey mouth on it! I sat with you, on the cold hard floor, in front of the toilet, and let you babble all your egghead theories to me about vomit and the Corruption, even though I’d been sick not two days before, and could barely stand the smell even without you philosophizing about it—”

“No, I meant—the time before, when you. Never mind.”

“Oh—when I had to clean it up?” Jon nodded, hoping she’d be able to tell that from the back of his head. “Yeah, well. Guess I like you better now.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

“Me neither.” And yet she scooted closer to him, hooking her chin over his shoulder. Her hand came to rest on his belly again, its heel in the hollow at the edge of his pelvis. “This okay? You alright with touch right now?”

In response Jon felt around for her hand. When he found it he slotted his fingers between hers, pulled her hand to a sicker-feeling place a few inches higher up, and left his there on top of it.

“Right,” Daisy laughed—“my mistake.” She dragged their combined hands very gently back and forth across the place he’d brought them to. “This where you’re feeling yuckiest?”

His breath caught again, but with surprise and relief this time. With his free hand Jon covered his eyes, willing himself not to think about how ridiculous he must seem to her right now. “That’s, er. That’s perfect, yes.”

“Sure.”

“Though actually—do you think—maybe a slightly… longer stroke?”

Again she laughed. Her hand went limp under his. “Backseat driver. Alright, show me how it’s done.”

It took him a minute to determine that himself. He tried pulling her hand back and forth past his navel, but that grated against something sharp inside. Supposed he couldn’t consult the Oracle for this. Up and down, maybe? Yes, that would do. Or a circle perhaps. Anti-clock—? No, clockwise, definitely. Much better.

Once they’d got that sorted out, Jon said, “I wonder if… you’d let me Ask. One more question.”

“Seriously? I can feel how stuffed you are; how could you possibly want more? Five minutes ago you nearly puked.”

“I’m just—curious, alright? I won’t be sick, I promise.”

“Fine.”

“Did you ever… throw them up?”

“I didn’t eat them, Jon. Told you that already.”

“Alright, poor choice of words. Did you ever—” he tried to think how best to phrase it. “When you threw up regular… people food. Did something of the rats ever come up with it?”

“Yeah. I only got sick once in the time I was doing it, but, I think so, yeah. Thought I was just really out of it at the time though. They didn’t make me sick, I don’t think—just another stomach bug, like the one I gave you. One of those bugs where everything has to come out? And it came on me in the middle of the night, so the last thing I’d”—a pause to sigh; her hand slipped out of his, presumably to make air quotes, but then took it again before he could think of somewhere else to put it—“‘eaten’ was the rats. Not as many as usual; I was already feeling slow that evening. But, yeah. They… it wasn’t their actual bodies, though, okay? I thought I was just dry heaving at first—you know when you’re hanging over the toilet bowl because you know you’re gonna be sick—”

Jon squirmed, fighting a temptation to cover his ears. “Yes, thank you, I’m familiar with—”

“—but you can’t get anything solid up yet, you just retch and drool and cough into the bowl. Well it started then, and then, some of it got mixed up with my sandwich. It was like I… felt their fear, like I—became them, for a second. Each one of them.”

She’d been right; it was too much. God, please don’t make him be the rat! Jon bit his lip ducked his head to his chest curled his toes bent his knees, anything, trying to barricade the doors against the onslaught of information. He pressed his and Daisy’s combined hands hard into the place where his stomach jutted forth from ribs for fear if he didn’t try to equalize the pressure inside from without he might burst like a sheep in clover and flood this whole room in half-ruminated text, a cloud of serifed letters scuttling heinously all over himself and Daisy like half-formed spiders.

“I don’t know how I knew that’s what it was,” Daisy went on. “It wasn’t like I saw the scene again, or heard the crunch, or felt the. Anything like that. I just—was the rat. I was prey. Just for a second. And knew that I—me, as in.” Again her hand slipped out of his. “The Hunter, was about to kill me. And… then it faded and I was me again until the next one.”

Her hand returned to the dome at the top of his gut where he’d last set it, but its ghosts on his palm and between his fingers remained cold. She brushed the hand up and down his belly, airily—oblivious to how its muscles clenched and undulated. Jon panted and forced himself to focus on her hand and nothing else. How it bumped and shuddered when his stomach’s shape morphed under it. How at the end of his every exhale her touch became so light it tickled. This was the present Daisy, and the present Jon. Here on this couch in the Institute basement. Both thin, her bony ilium pressed closer to his sacroiliac joint than was quite comfortable. Warm, except up one leg where the blanket let in a draft.

The one who’d tried to prey on him was long gone. If anything he was the one feeding on her, now. And they just laid on the couch together, massaging her horrors into more comfortable shapes inside him.

“That enough?”

Jon grunted an incredulous huff. “Too much,” he admitted, unable to keep the strain out of his voice. “You were right—I, uh. Didn’t know stomachaches came this size.”

Her laugh sounded affectionate. The lines up and down his stomach morphed into circles around it. “Ha—look how much higher your belly comes up on this side. That must be where your ribs were.”

“Yes, I’ve. Noticed that before, thanks.”

“Think you’ll keep it all down?”

“Hope so.”

“Good luck. Wouldn’t want you to have to relive the rats again.”

Oh, god.

“The less said about it the—better I’ll feel, I think.”

“Well that’s a change,” Daisy mused, patting his stomach as though in summation. “I should get to bed. Be alright on your own?”

“Er.” No, no, no, god please no, not alone yet with all these? “Yes, alright. I should be fine.”

She laughed again. “I’ll stay til you fall asleep.”

--

(For Daisy’s take on “the time before,” when she had to clean up his vomit, see Abyss of Possibilities; to view the drawing in less-bad resolution, see this post)

[aria-writes]

There was only one bed?!

Post-game, established relationship. 

rated pg-13 for teenagers being snarky teenagers

Viktoria rested one hand on her hip and sighed disdainfully as she took in her surroundings. “Is it a legal requirement for all hotels to have ugly carpets?”

Tegan dropped his bags and collapsed to the floor with a loud thump.

Viktoria jumped, hands instinctively moving into a defensive position at the sudden noise. “Ew!” She exclaimed. “Do you know how many germs are in these rooms?”

“I don’t care, ‘cause I’m dead,” Tegan mumbled into the carpet, shrugging slightly.

Viktoria let her arms fall and nudged him in the side with her foot a few times.

Tegan managed to remain almost completely still. “Stop desecrating my corpse.”

Viktoria rolled her eyes and removed her jacket, dropping it over the back of a nearby chair. “Calm down, edgelord. Now, wh– Uh.”

She narrowed her eyes and twisted her mouth to the side at the focal point of the room– one queen-sized bed, freshly done up. She frowned at it in disapproval, as if that would make it shift and change before her very eyes, but it did not.

Tegan slowly raised his head, propping his chin up in his hands. He blinked, removed his glasses, rubbed the lenses vigorously on his shirt, then put them on again. “That is… there's one bed in here.”

“Yep.” Viktoria sighed again, then propped her bag against the wall and headed straight for it, yawning. “Well, goodnight Tegan. Sleep well and all that jazz.”

Tegan’s cheek slipped off his hand, nearly causing him to face-plant.

“Hey wait, aren’t you supposed to act all nice and shy and offer the bed to me, at which point I’ll insist that no, really, you should have it? And so on and so forth.” He gestured with his hands as he talked and proffered her a hopeful smile.

Viktoria looked at him over her shoulder and cocked her head, considering.

“Hm, nah.” She flopped facedown and exhaled in relief, then rolled over. “Look, it’s not like we’re sharing the same toothbrush or anything.”

Tegan shuddered, lips pursing slightly. “Thanks’nt for that mental image.”

Viktoria snorted. “Tegan! I’ve shared a bed with friends during sleepovers before, it’s not a big deal.” She tossed her shoes over the end of the bed. “Look, if you’re that worried about me acting untoward, we can make a wall down the middle with the extra throw pillows.”

Tegan slowly sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. “You’re not the one I’m worried about…”

“Then who, the tabloids? Let ‘em talk. Maybe Tyler will ask me for my autograph, on account of my becoming a mini-celebrity and all.” Viktoria joked as she folded her hands behind her head, trying to lighten the mood.

‘Me,’ Tegan wanted to shout, ‘it’s me! I am the problem! Ever since we met, I’ve been dreaming of premarital hand-holding!’

Viktoria scooted to the edge of the bed and softened her tone. “Look, Tegan, do you want the bed?”

Tegan rested his cheek against his knee. “Yes.”

Viktoria threw her hands up in the air. “So do I. Now, are we building the not-so-great Wall of China, or—“

Tegan scrambled to his feet. “N-no, it’s okay. I— You—“ He gestured awkwardly for a few moments, then covered his face with his hands. “It’s just, uh, do you… Do you actually sleep… Um, totally and completely... You know, with no…

Viktoria smiled and waved dismissively at him, then pulled her hair into a low bun. “Nah, I keep my undergarments on.”

Tegan’s knees gave out. He dropped to the floor as if he had just been shot out of the sky, face frozen.

Viktoria leaned over the edge and reached out for him, face twisted in concern. “I’m joking! Oh good job Vik, you really did kill him this time!”

“I’m… fine…” Tegan managed to wheeze, voice pitched about an octave higher than it sounded normally. He curled up in the fetal position, eyes wide open. “Maybe I will sleep on the floor.”

Viktoria raised her hands in surrender. “I’m done messing with you, I promise. At least for tonight.”

Tegan lifted his arms weakly in her general direction. “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”

Viktoria grabbed him by the wrists and, with a grunt of effort, hauled him onto the bed… but now he was straddling her.

“Regret! Regret!” Tegan’s entire body seemed to be trying to run away in five directions at once, which ultimately ended in him flopping onto the unoccupied side of the bed almost unintentionally. “Mistakes have been made!”

He shoved his face into the pillow, completely incapable of facing Viktoria for at least another five minutes. “...aaannd I just said all of that inner dialogue out loud, didn't I.” He slapped the pillow with a defeated tone.

Viktoria blinked dumbly. She didn’t even have time to smirk or wink during any of that, it all happened so fast.

“Hey. Can I touch you?” Tegan sighed, shoulders releasing just a bit of tension. “Yeah. If you want…” Viktoria reached over and ran her fingers through his messy hair, splayed out across the pillowcase in every which way like a fiery halo.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think that’s even the most awkward thing you’ve said to me.” Tegan let out a muffled but still sufficiently loud groan that sounded like the cursed lovechild of a foghorn and a cow.

“Is there any chance we could just forget that that ever happened?”

Viktoria smiled and sat back on her heels. “Forget that what ever happened?” She asked innocently.

Tegan shifted onto his side. “Thank you.” He crossed his eyes and touched his nose with his tongue, attempting to break the tension.

Viktoria grinned and reached out towards his face to straighten his glasses. “You’re adorable.” Tegan propped his head up with a loose fist. “You flatter me.” Viktoria threw the thick blanket back and tucked her legs underneath it, then pulled it up to her waist.

“Is it really flattery if it’s true? Honestly, I think you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever known, and that’s saying a lot.”

Tegan tilted his head, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. “More than Karolina?” “I… crud.” Viktoria scrunched up her nose. “Okay fine, well, she may be prettier than you, but you’re the most beautiful.”

Tegan rested a hand in the space between the two of them and let his legs sprawl out. “There’s a distinction between the two?” Viktoria gave a one-shouldered shrug and attempted to get comfortable.

“Pretty is usually used as attractive, conventionally, but not much more than skin deep. Beautiful, in my book, factors in all of that plus what’s inside– uh, you know, the emotions of the heart, the capacity of the mind, the facets of a personality, the vastness of the soul…” She trailed off, taking in all of Tegan’s features under the soft yellow glow. “Viktoria…” Tegan exhaled and leaned in. Viktoria scooted closer, heart beating out of her chest. “Yes, Tegan?” Tegan gave her a wry smile. “One of us will have to get up and turn the lights off.” Viktoria looked up and clapped twice into the air. No dice.

Tegan briefly raised his eyebrows, clearly amused. “Well, you tried.” Viktoria threw her head back. “Ugh. I’ll rock-paper-scissors with you.” Tegan rolled his eyes but humored her anyway. “Rock, paper, scissors– shoot!” “Hah!” Viktoria placed her open palm over Tegan’s fist and squeezed his hand. “This game is rigged.” Tegan rolled off the bed with a groan and dragged his feet his entire way over to the light switch.

Viktoria raised her head and squinted at him in suspicion. “Did you lose on purpose?”

Tegan’s only response was to flip the lights, plunging the room into darkness.

“Uh… how do I get back?” Viktoria gestured vaguely as her eyes started to adjust. “Echolocation?” “Do I look like Batboy to you?”

Viktoria shrugged, momentarily forgetting that he couldn’t see her. “Do you mean usually, or just right now?”

Even though she still couldn’t see much, she could tell that Tegan was making that face at her, the one where his eyebrows bunched up in the middle and his lower lip turned out in the most subtle of cute little pouts.

Viktoria took advantage of the darkness to quickly change out of her jeans and into some leggings as Tegan stumbled his way back. Hypothetically, she could just sleep in the oversized T-shirt she had on, but she figured she had tortured him enough for one day.

Tegan yelled a very harsh sounding non-English word as he bumped into the bed and stubbed his toe.

“This freaking hotel is getting a one-star review on Yalp!”

Viktoria braced herself as an incredibly obvious idea popped into her head too little, too late. “Why didn’t you just… use your phone’s light?”

“YOU—” Tegan lept at Viktoria and tackled her, who let out a very surprised laugh in response.

“I did not expect that from you, of all people!”

Tegan moved off of her and wrapped his arms around his torso. “You know what? I’m tired, it’s late, and I am totally over it.”

Viktoria reached up and placed her palms over his cheeks. Sure enough, they were warm to the touch.

“And you assumed that I wouldn’t be able to tell you were blushing due to my impaired vision in the darkness.”

Tegan collapsed with a defeated groan and threw the blanket over his head. “Goodnight, I am done.”

•••

Viktoria woke to a numb feeling in her arm that somehow reminded her of radio static. She slowly blinked awake.

Tegan had her left arm completely pinned underneath his lean (but not weightless) frame and between the mattress.

“Coffeegan…” Viktoria murmured, poking his cheek lightly with her free hand. “Could you be a good boyfriend and move, please?”

“You’re so warm…” Tegan whined, snuggling up closer and wrapping his noodly arms tightly around her waist.

Viktoria flexed her trapped arm, which had gone almost painfully numb by this point. “I need to go to the bathroom really bad, and if you don’t move soon this isn’t gonna be pretty–”

“I’m up! I’m up!” Tegan flopped off of her arm and over the side of the bed with a crash, taking the blanket with him. “Oof.”

“Rest in pieces.” Viktoria leaned over the edge of the bed. This felt very familiar to her, for some reason. “Are you o—“

Tegan threw an arm over his face, which was completely red at this point... along with his ears and possibly his neck and shoulders as well.

“Just leave me here to die.”

Victoria hopped over to the bathroom to take care of business, slapping her arm to get the feeling back in it on the way.

Someone, who she presumed was Tegan because who else would it be, tapped out the rhythm of Shave and a Haircut on the bathroom door. Viktoria went to answer it, toothbrush in hand.

Tegan gaped at her as she opened the door, arm still raised.

Viktoria took a step back and gave him a bemused smile. “What is it now?”

“I…” Tegan hesitated, the fingers of his free hand tapping absentmindedly against his leg.

Viktoria leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “I know for a fact that you’ve seen me without makeup countless times.” She motioned at him with the end of her toothbrush, then popped it in her mouth.

Tegan motioned in the air around his head with both hands. “You look like book!Hermione.”

Viktoria nearly choked. “Oh yeah, that.” She reached up to run a hand over her hair and smiled sheepishly. “That’s kinda what happens when you tend to toss and turn all night.”

“Oh great.” Tegan began examining his easily markable skin. “I better not have any bruises…Tyler and Ellie will never let me hear the end of it.”

Viktoria stood on the ends of her toes and ruffled Tegan’s hair. “Your bedhead is adorable though.”

“Maybe I can just wear a full-body cloak– huh?” Tegan looked up over his shoulder as Viktoria’s compliment finally registered. “I mean, you think everything about me is adorable… but thank you.”

***

“Does it seem strange to you that no one has stopped and questioned the two baby-faced teenagers traveling together?”

“The two loaded baby-faced teenagers traveling together,” Tegan corrected. “Well, one, anyway.”

Viktoria smirked and slowly entwined her arm with his. “Does that make you my sugar–”

Tegan drew his mouth into a thin straight line. “Don’t. even. say. it.”

Viktoria traced a finger down his chest. “How about just d–”

Tegan looked straight down at her. “I swear, if you finish that sentence, I will never hack another database for you ever again. Ever.”

Viktoria slowly raised one eyebrow. “Ok boomer.”

She giggled and turned on her heel in a way that eerily reminded Tegan of Ellie, skipping over to the elevator and nearly taking out a bystander on the way over with the rolling luggage she was dragging behind herself.

‘Note to self, hide those hair ribbons…’  Tegan groaned and threw his head back as he shuffled over to the opening elevator doors at a much slower pace.

To Viktoria’s surprise, they both managed to make it inside the death box— I mean elevator— without incident.  

Viktoria leaned her head against Tegan’s arm and closed her eyes as the doors shut with a soft chime.

Tegan raised an eyebrow. “Is this your way of apologizing?”

Viktoria nuzzled her face into his arm. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I get kinda loopy when I’m tired.”

Tegan snorted and shoved his phone into his pocket. “No, really? I totally couldn’t tell.”

Viktoria half-heartedly elbowed him in the side before closing her eyes again.

Tegan watched the numbers displayed on the side of the doors drop and tapped his foot against the shiny floor. “Fair warning, if you actually do fall asleep, I’m not capable of carrying you out.”

Viktoria sighed and draped her arms around his waist. “Is that your way of telling me to lay off the pasta?”

“Wh– NO!” Tegan sputtered in protest. “I would never– I was just saying because I am–”

Viktoria opened one eye and raised her head just a tad. “Did the lift just stop?”

Tegan sighed to himself and pulled his phone back out. “I really should’ve seen this one coming by now.”

Viktoria ran the two steps it took for her to reach the doors and futilely pawed at the crack. “Oh no no I cannot die in this outfit, I hate this outfit!”

Tegan cocked his head at her. “Then why are you wearing it?”

She whirled to face him. “Because they’re traveling clothes!” Viktoria’s scream reached a fever pitch, the subtle irony of the contrast between their respective outfits completely lost on her.

Tegan winced and pressed his ear to his shoulder as the sound reverberated through the small space.

Viktoria pulled on the hem of her jacket and lowered her voice.

“Sorry. I’m wearing this because if it gets ruined en route, then I don’t have to mourn the loss of any garments I actually care about.”

Tegan stared at her as if she had suddenly sprouted wings. “...Fashion people are weird.”

Viktoria stuck her tongue out at him. “Whatever, Tall Nerd.”

Tegan raised his arm and rested his elbow on top of her head. “Right back at cha, Raspberry Shortcake.”

Viktoria frowned, but didn’t remove his arm. “At least I have cake.”

Tegan scoffed and shifted his weight. “Really? We’re going there?”

Viktoria nodded solemnly in faux seriousness. “Oh, we’ve been there.”

“...yourchestisflatterthanmine.” Tegan mumbled at light speed, staring down at his shoes and wishing that he could fall through the floor.

Viktoria grinned, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to Tegan’s shoulder.

“Well, if we can survive this together, we can weather pretty much anything.”

Tegan lowered his voice dramatically and peered at her over the top of his glasses. “Even… Karolina’s disapproval?”

Viktoria’s whole body seemed to deflate. “Uggghhh, don’t remind me.” She flopped to the side in one fluid movement reminiscent of a rag doll.

“I already know I’m not good enough for you, she doesn’t have to point–“

Tegan grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Hey. Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.” He forced himself to keep eye contact, even as he was combusting inside.

Viktoria couldn't help but smile at his sincerity.

“Look at us, we’re both slowly getting there.”

She gasped dramatically as the elevator began moving again and the door slowly opened. “Freedom!”

Tegan’s eyes widened. He reached out for her in vain. “No wait—”

Viktoria grabbed the handle of her luggage and ran for the door, but tripped over her own bag. Tegan moved to catch her, but only succeeded in falling on top of her instead.

Viktoria hit the ground hard. She began laughing due to the adrenaline– if she hadn’t laughed, then she would’ve probably started crying.

“Ow, my shoulder,” she gasped out.

Tegan rested his elbow on the ground and propped up his chin with his hand. “Well, at least the security guards are having an entertaining day.”

tag list: @arlingtonssweetheart

[ribcage-rodents]

Post two

Diana

Diana smiled indulgently resting a hand on Donna’s shoulder.

“Hello Donna, it is wonderful to see you again, I have some exciting news.”

Donna

She fidgeted awkwardly trying to act like she hadn't been eavesdropping.

Diana

“You are finally going to see the Man’s World. Go pack your bags, we will leave once you say your goodbyes. We can discuss the rules of your mission in my plane.”

Her excitement was only shown by the joyful flash in her eyes.

Donna attempted to keep her face in a soft smile with her eyes telling her emotions

much like her older sister does, as she made her way towards her home.

Scene 6

Bruce sat at the kitchen counter a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, while his face rested heavily in the other.

Alfred

Alfred curved around Bruce to top off his drink and use a rag to clean up a puddle of coffee Bruce had spilled while complaining about League business.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just let the boy have friends, master Bruce.”

Bruce

Bruce looked up exasperated from where his face was resting.

“Because Dick is more skilled and intelligent than all of those other ‘heroes’. I don’t want him to be influenced by those immature, idiotic, side kicks. Who knows what one of those older kids could encourage him to do!? He’s much safer at home.”

He said moving his hand sharply to the left spilling coffee all over the counter.

Alfred sighed deeply moving to clean up the coffee, sending Bruce a disapproving stare while he sheepishly averted his gaze. Dick was upstairs in his beautiful, pink-marbled bathroom leaning over the counter worriedly applying concealer to purple bruises on his neck as Tate Agile played in the background, he stopped for a moment to read to a text from ‘science lab partner’.

Dick

“Come on dude, it's not that big of a deal Bs never gonna know”

Dick sighed becoming even more concerned, he glanced in the mirror frowning at his reflection before replying.

“Idk Babs, I’d be in a ton of trouble if B found out”

He stared at his phone for a couple of seconds then added,

“Especially since you’re like a little too old for me”

Dick’s hand squeezed around his phone as he shut his eyes, he counted to ten silently before exhaling. Pretending he wasn’t waiting for her response he went back to covering up the bruises on his neck, despite his eyes flicking back over to the black screen every couple of seconds.

Yet when the phone finally pinged he hesitated, it wasn't until the second text arrived that he actually answered.

“No, our age difference really isn’t that big, if you think about it people get married with like a 10 year diff.”

“Are you gonna come out w me tonight?”

Dick sighed softly, his cheeks lighting up pink.

“Yeah I got some free time around 12-2am. But we’re just gonna hang out ok, just like a little bit of kissing. No making out or hickies or anything.”

His phone pinged again.

“Haha yeah sure that's what you said last time.”

“What's up w your schedule man? 12-2am is so random.”

“You might not need sleep but I do, next time we should just meet up during like second period or something.”

Dick’s frown deepened.

“I’m not skipping school. I think you’re a bad influence on me:(“

“You know we don’t have to do anything when we meet up we could just cuddle or something.”

He paused before deleting the last message.

“Ha, maybe I like making you into a bad boy”

“See you tonight, maybe I’ll make you break into the school to find the best secret makeout place!”

Dick set his phone face down, scratching at his arm he went back to covering up those bruises.

Scene 7

Wally was in his tiny little bathroom that looks like it was designed in the 1950’s. He was leaning over the tiled blue and turquoise countertop messing with his forever windswept hair. There was a loud banging at the door as Wally dragged a brush through the birdsnest on top of his head.

Wally

There was a brief pause before Wally once again dragged the brush through his messy hair. The banging returned causing Wally to jerk smacking his hand against the counter, he turned and opened the door staring annoyed at his uncle.

“What?”

Barry

Barry stared back a pleased smirk on his face leaning against the door frame.

“Come on kiddo, we’re gonna be late.”

He reached out and plucked the brush from Wally’s hand as he spoke.

Wally

Wally did a full body groan leaning back, he shot one last mournful look at himself in the mirror before he moved towards the door, his uncle disappearing into his room. Wally sighed rummaging through his room for his suit. “What's the point of having super speed if you’re gonna be late to everything?”

Barry

Barry zipped over to his nephew ruffling his hair, effectively ruining any improvement Wally had managed.

“I ask myself the same question everyday when I show up late for work.”

Flying down the streets of central the two speedsters made haste, two flashes of red and yellow sped down the streets and around buildings. Stopping quickly at a hotdog vendor, handing the man a red credit card decorated with tiny lightning bolts, the city's way of thanking the heroes. Before getting back on the road.

Flash

“So kiddo, are ya nervous?”

Flash called stuffing a whole hot dog in his mouth.

Kidflash

Kidflash made a contemplative noise, looking down at his feet.

“Well yeah, I’m not exactly good at making friends,... or being cool.”

Both speedsters came to a halt, Kidflash resumed looking down self-deprecatingly, shoving the last 12 hotdogs into his mouth. Flash slipped behind him resting a hand on his shoulder.

Flash

“Don’t worry kiddo, just be yourself they’re gonna love you!”

He punctuated his statement by ruffling his nephew’s hair one last time. The two then proceeded, one at a time to enter the transporter.

Scene 8

Kidflash stepped into the JL headquarters quickly moving to catch up with his uncle as he sped towards the monitor room.

Flash

“Welcome to the Justice League break room!”

Flash called happily swinging his arms open to fully display the room. He leaned in close,

“It used to just be the monitor room but we all started to hang around here, mostly because Wonder Woman and Supes like to annoy Bats.”

He said with a nod.

Wonder Girl sat alone on the edge of one of the ugly green couches, sipping on a mug of herbal tea periodically.

Flash

Flash bumped his shoulder against Kidflash’s, whispering an encouraging,

“You got this kiddo!”

The Flash then departed, walking over towards Batman and Wonder Woman chatting by the supercomputer both holding steaming cups of coffee.

Kidflash

Taking a deep breath and gathering all his courage Kidflash confidently strided over to where Wonder Girl was perched. Looming over her he plastered on his best ‘Wall-man’ smirk. Wonder Girl cocked a single eyebrow as a supercilious look settled on her lips.

“Hey gorgeous, I hope you brought your library card because you can totally check me out!”

He flinched expecting to be hit or splashed by her tea.

Wonder Girl

“Wow, I’m already regretting this,”

Wonder Girl huffed glaring at Kidflash

“Maybe I should’ve stayed home,”

She mumbled quietly to herself.

Speedy

Speedy came up behind Kf’s right purposely smacking their shoulders together before plopping down on the couch causing Wonder Girl’s tea to slosh spilling over the rim and roll down the side of her thigh.

“Ew, dude have you ever actually gotten a girl with that line?”

He asked his arms resting on the top of the couch. He then raised his hand in a halting motion.

“Nevermind don't answer that, you have loner-loser written all over you.”

Kidflash

Kidflash lost his composure striking his arms out, before bringing his hand back around to point towards himself.

“Hey! I get tons of ladies!”

Speedy

“Yeah whatever dude,”

Speedy cut him off waving his hand still resting on the top of the couch, looking in the opposite direction of the scene before him.

Garth

Garth parted from his King’s side as they entered the break room with a nod, he walked towards the other heroes, his dark eyes calculating.

“Hello, I’m Garth.”

He said before sitting down on the couch next to Speedy.

Speedy

Speedy made a face.

“Great intro fishboy! But shouldn’t you have like a superhero name?”

Garth

“No, I don’t have a secret identity.”

Garth spoke, his tone relaying how idiotic he thought Speedy was.

Kidflash

“What about protecting your family man?”

Kidflash asked, lifting both his eyebrows, he was never able to just move one, leaning towards Garth.

Garth

Garth’s eyebrows pulled together as frustration took over.

“I don't wear a mask, villains will know who I am regardless.”

Speedy

“Wonder Girl doesn’t wear a mask,”

Speedy said leering at Garth.

“Maybe we should come up with a dumb superhero name for you, personally I like Fishboy!”

Kidflash laughed loudly, Wonder Woman groaned standing up and walking towards her sister.

She was stopped by the Flash calling them over in an energetic voice waving the rest of the sidekicks towards them.

Green Arrow

Green arrow spoke first giving all of the teens a cursory glance before focusing completely on his own sidekick.

“Now listen up, this mission is very important to your future as legitimate heroes.”

Within his brief pause Black Canary sighed heavily at Green Arrow's natural talent for being a terrible parent. He moved one hand to his hip as he spoke lightly elbowing Aquman in the process.

“All ya gotta do is sit and watch your targets,”

Once again there was a lapse in his speech when he turned to check that Batman had brought up the images of the targets and the suspicious big black bags, as well as the address of their hideout. After seeing Batman had in fact project the correct information, Green Arrow nodded to himself before turning back toward the sidekicks. Jerking his thumb backwards, he continued.

“These are them.”

He took a moment to clear his throat at the odd phrasing.

Flash

Flash took that moment to take over patting his colleague’s shoulder as he stepped closer to the center of the group.

“We’ve been monitoring these guys’ set up for a couple weeks. We think that they’re smuggling something illegal in those big black bags-”

Speedy

“What do you mean “illegal” things?! Don't we get to know if there's gonna be guns or drugs or something, idiot-man!”

Speedy cut in sharply placing both hands on his hips and leaning forward, aggressively sneering in the Flash’s face.

Green arrow placed a hand on each side of Speedy’s chest pushing him back as Flash stood there shocked.

Flash

“So we’ll drop ya off at their hideout, be very careful sneaking into the building and while choosing stalking positions. If they begin to pack up and leave or the situation starts to turn violent, stay safe and contact us before attempting to fight. If they have guns, retreat to the transporter immediately.

Batman then swiveled around in his chair, sending a questioning glance at Wonder Woman from across the room, ignoring the conclusion of Superman’s story much to his disappointment.

Batman

“Why would you send these children out into the field if you don't trust them to fight without supervision?”

It was a statement rather than a question, challenging all of the other mentors.

Wonder Woman answered anyway with a judgemental look of her own, but Green Arrow was the one who spoke.

Green arrow

Green arrow took several long strides towards batman.

“Well we’re not just gonna leave our kids at the mercy of a bunch of gun wielding scumbags. I mean, Flash can’t even stand a chance against a handgun, do ya think any side kick could survive that?!”

Batman

Batman glared at him but spoke in a calm voice, only failing a little to keep the smugness out of his tone.

“Robin could.”

Aquaman

Green Arrow geared up to make another loud and spity remark but Aquaman spoke up for the first time since the debriefing began.

“If he is so proficient then why is he not here?”

He questioned with far more smugness in his tone.

Batman

“Because Robin is currently working on his own personal mission tonight.”

The statement was followed by Batman swinging his chair back around and continuing to type up a mission statement.

The group dispersed most of the sidekicks getting last minute pep talks, Kidflash who reached out to his uncle grabbing his elbow as he went to go carbo-load.

Flash

The flash turned to look at his nephew.

“What’s up kiddo?”

He asked, placing a hand on each of his shoulders looking at his face in concern.

Kidflash

Kidflash looked down taking a deep breath before locking eyes with his uncle.

“I-I don't know if I can do this uncle B.”

Flash

Flash answered with a sigh rubbing rough but soothing circles on his shoulders and nape.

“Alright listen kiddo, ya made a jerk out of yourself.”

kidflash‘s face whipped up to face his uncle.

“I know I flirt with all the ladies but I do so in a joking manner that means no harm or a promise for furthering the relationship...just apologize to Wonder Girl.”

Kidflash made a face at the ground scuffing his shoe against the shiny tile floor.

“Make some small talk when appropriate on the mission and you’ll have three new best friends in no time!”

Flash turned him around to face the other sidekicks and smacked him on the back pushing him forward.

Scene 9

A wide shot of the seedier area of Arizona, several of the lamp posts have been shattered and no longer work, streams of light shine across the wet road through boarded up windows of an old warehouse. The sidekicks crouched behind a stack of molding crates, listening intently as the goons played cards and chatted about their personal lives, peering at them periodically.

Roy

Roy groaned softly clunking his head against the rotten wood.

“This is so boring! They aren’t doing anything, I say we just jump ‘em now!”

Roy whispered looking expectantly at his teammates.

Garth

Garth glared annoyed, grabbing Speedy’s wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.

“We were given direct orders-”

Speedy

Speedy shoved his flat palm into Garth’s face creating space between them.

“Calm down Fishboy, I’d never go against our wise and fearless mentors’ orders,”

Speedy sneered, ripping his arm from Garth and rubbing his wrist.

[theclownandtheflame]

AIGHT FELLAS it's me ya slut writing a Gaius x MC fic so if you don't like Gaius or feel grossed out by the idea of a ship then DON'T READ IT haaaa no seriously don't read it. Also don't shame those who like it. PEACE! 🧚🏻‍♀️

Btw I didn't quite finish it bc idk my imagination gets dry sometimes and stuff. BUT if any of you want me to keep writing, then ask so and I'll do it! I'll do it either way but oh well ksksksks here we go!

Victim, Victim, Monster

A Gaius Augustine x MC drabble/fic

Written by @theclownandtheflame

DISCLAIMER: Some NSFW, slight mentions of PTSD (not romanticized tho!! ew!!)

Characters used &/or mentioned belong to Pixelberry!!! All rights to them even if they take ours on a daily basis

My mother language is Portuguese so please excuse my grammar should it be necessary!

MC's name is Athena because,, :)

Final warning for Gaius' haters: don't. read. below. the line !!!!!!!!

_________________________________________

"Athena, I did terrible things to you. I abducted you. I raided your mind. I tortured your friends. I killed you."

Funny how stating the obvious got him stuck in her mind the whole night. Fragile, the bloodkeeper clutched her pillow and busied herself with happier thoughts. As if there were any at times like these.

They had just escaped the island when its effects fully wore out. She couldn't blame "grandpa" for her restlessness, as much as she wanted to. So much to consider after trekking across the ugly truth and all she could think about was Gaius. Gaius Augustine.

She heaved a dramatic sigh before changing positions. Now, laying on her back, Athena realized this was probably the best night of sleep she's had in a while. Even if there was, like, absolutely no sleeping involved.

What kept her up wasn't the nightmares this time. Something about their talk, as eerie as it went, helped her conceal the fact his face would haunt her forever. Because, oh, it would.

"You can't sleep, can you?"

The agony, crawling under her skin, hit so deep she could hear his voice at any given time. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she stared at the ceiling, counting sheeps for a change. No nightmares, no daydreams, but absolutely not a hint of tranquility.

"... Athena."

She huffed. If she knew coming to good terms with the enemy would bring him inside her head, she wouldn't have taken the high road. Her lips still tingled from the kiss she pressed to his cheek. The electric warmth shared upon breaking a boundary she would've never have crossed days prior.

If only her friends could see her now. Touching her lips with her fingertips. Thinking fondly of a monster they swore to kill.

"Are you asleep? Do you actually sleep with your eyes open? You are one strange woman."

"Leave, demon!" She hissed, forcing herself up to sit by the edge of the bed. Both hands rubbed at her temples as she whispered words of discouragement, praying to have her brain raided by better thoughts. A psych vampire who can't watch after her own mind was most likely a joke.

Until she glanced towards the door, slowly, blushing deeply at the owner of her inner voices who simply stared back in awe. So it wasn't her imagination playing tricks, huh?

He blinked. Fast.

"... Did you think I—"

"Shut up." She lisped. Her hands continued to cradle her head even as he walked in, eyebrows arched.

"I was hoping you'd be less fussy after our conversation."

Without expecting an invitation, he crossed the distance between them and leaned into the wall across from her.

Surprisingly she didn't budge. Not until her body flinched at the cold breeze that entered freely from the gap he left by keeping the door open.

"Yeah, so was I." The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath to keep herself from shaking.

Once aware of the situation, Gaius snatched her pillow and tossed it on the door. It slammed closed from the impact, but it wasn't loud enough to startle the others.

"Hey!" She gasped, watching the scene with eyes wide. "Couldn't you just go and close it manually? Like, running for it? You're a powerful vampire, dude."

Entertained by her fright, he smirked.

"I'm also way too comfortable standing right here... dude."

Gaius Augustine was a monster. Is a monster. She couldn't really tell. Decades of cruelty couldn't be wiped out so easily, as Kamilah strongly suggested whenever she mentioned his name. Yet, the way he looked at her with a mixture of sorrow and regret proved it true: Rheya broke him whole.

He stood still, stiffening once their eyes met, and suddenly all she could see was a wounded hound looking for shelter.

"Why are you here?" She asked at last. A simple question that sent him looking for scrappers of answers he couldn't quite provide.

Why was he there, really? Because she's the only one who didn't give him a hard time? Because she knew how his mind worked, and therefore they had a reliable bond?

Because she's the only good thing left of the Rheya he once loved?

He needn't consider any further. That last possibility drained all colors from his face. Staring blankly ahead, his mouth slightly ajar, Gaius ignored her altogether and hurried towards the door.

"Wait!" She called out. Without further ado, Athena leaped to her feet and approached the man to lay a hand on his as it reached for the knob.

The look he gave her was a haunting one. Desperate. He couldn't bear looking at her face without feeling himself break further.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

He was terrified of her.

"I must leave." He blurted out, but his body remained unmoving. The gentle touch he felt on his hand moved on to his cheek, and suddenly he found himself leaning into it.

What the hell, Athena? What are you doing?, She thought. He abducted you, raided your mind, tortured your friends, killed you!

Their eyes met once more, and this time they didn't go astray. They glared at each other's hues while their heads swirmed with questions of where they stood and what they meant.

Victim, victim, monster.

Both experiencing a strong attraction that most likely came to life due to their shared fear:

To lose a purpose without making it right.

Pulling away out of a sudden, Athena turned on her heels and walked in front of a mirror. He followed short after, magnetized, his hands yearning to grasp her hips but resting on his belt instead. His towering figure could be easily seen behind her as a smile crept on her rosy lips.

"What?" He frowned. "What's so amusing to you that clearly isn't to me?"

Biting on her bottom lip, she gestured towards their reflections, believing it would be enough. By the way his lips puckered, it wasn't.

"We're vampires. Yet we can see ourselves on the mirror. Hollywood's fishy, isn't it?"

Sighing sharply not to roll his eyes at her foolishness, he leaned into her to touch the mirror's surface. The way his chest pressed into her back so that his palm could reach the glass made her heartbeats quicken.

The funny look he gave her through a squint was enough to say he heard them loud and clear. And enjoyed being the cause of it.

"You don't believe Vlad's tales, do you? It's outrageous. The man is a buffoon." He quirked an eyebrow. Looking at the mirror at the same time, the two shot each other challenging glares until she burst into laughter.

"Nah. He's not that great, by the way. I don't see the appeal... and I've certainly had better."

Wiggling her eyebrows, Athena fist-bumped the air upon spotting a crimson shade spread on his cheeks. He'd have pulled away to adjust his posture if she hadn't laid her hand upon his.

Her fingers grazed his until curling around them, her touch so gentle he could barely feel it. He closed his eyes when she laid her head back on his shoulder, and his arm slowly slithered around her waist in return.

Humming to herself, Athena shrunk into his arms and cherished the warmth of his hold. Then, the touch of his lips on her ear, of his breath tickling her skin.

"I do see the appeal in this." He growled, softly, making her body shiver from goosebumps. "Of holding you close to me instead of hunting you down. Of saving you instead of dragging you to harm's way."

The hand he had holding on her waist moved up to her breasts, hovering over her cleavage as he reached for a necklace as an excuse to his gestures. Her heart was entirely out of control at this point, beating faster by the minute – but she didn't care. She wanted him to be aware of his effects. Tilting her head, she brushed her lips across his jawline and smirked at the hiss she got in response.

"Well, there is a saying for that, y'know? Make love, not war."

Having distracted him with an array of kisses on his jaw, she reached back around her neck to unclip the necklace and toss it away. He needn't an excuse. Not anymore.

"So which one's gonna be? I'm warning you though, I'm great at waging war."

"You are infuriating." Without further notice, his hands clutched her hips to flip her around.

Once she could face him properly, Athena inched forth to try his lips for the first time, but he made sure to keep her at arm's length. His eyes, dark with lust, studied her frame before locking on her features. It's like he was seeing her for the first time, savoring the sight of something he craved despite unaware.

He took it in without a wish to kill but to touch, appraise, caress. Taste.

"Kiss me." She ordered, her voice but a whisper as his thumbs drew circles around her hips.

"No, Bloodkeeper..." He hummed, his nose brushing hers as he fought the urge to give it in. "I'm not so sure I am worthy of your lips."

Dodging temptation, he pressed a kiss to her cheek instead. A warm reminder that there's still good in this world as much as there could be in him.

"Goodnight, Athena."

She shook her head. He couldn't leave now, not when she found a way around the sharp edges of his heart. However, he was too determined to cut it short before it was too late. Even if something told him they were way past that.

Averting his gaze not to meet her hungry eyes, he planted one last kiss on her forehead and left with haste.

"Great..." She mumbled, more restless than ever. "Now I definitely can't sleep."

-//-

[pinkestwrites]

Say So

say so ft park jinyoung

word count: 5016 rated: r

summary: just when jinyoung thinks the star of the marjorette time will never notice him, she actually does.

a/n: this was a request for ihatemylfe but it seems they deactivated their account. hope everyone else enjoys it anyway! :)

"Simp!"

The sudden hands on his shoulders, the weight of another body, both jolted him out of his daze.

"Yeah, right," he grunted, shrugging the older male off him. His cheeks were hot, he hoped the blush wasn't too noticeable. Yet again, the gang was there, catching him off guard watching her again.

Glaring at his friends, he picked up his camera and bag as he stood. "You wish I was a simp. Not everyone is a little bitch like you," he directed his comment back to Mark.

Mark just chuckled at the rude remark, standing as well. "Dude," he slapped a hand onto Jinyoung's shoulder. "Relax. It's just a joke."

The exhausted sigh, followed by a shake of the head could only be from Bam Bam. "Hyung, you know she's out of your league, right?"

"If I actually liked her, you would be right," Jinyoung defended. "But I don't, so who cares. I was only here to get the scenery. You know my photography class has nature assignments, right?"

"Not of the ugly school field," Jackson piped in.

If one could charge his friends with stalking, he would. They found him no matter where he hid. And, of course, he usually was observing her. The school's star. The head of the majorettes. Someone so completely untouchable to a simple guy like him. They were such polar opposites it was laughable at the thought of her returning any sort of feelings for him.

"The field is not ugly," he scoffed, offended. "You just don't have an eye for hidden beauty."

"And jiggling boobs," Bam Bam suddenly gasped out. "No wonder you're always out here." He stopped cold in their walk, staring at the dance team practice a particularly upbeat part of their routine.

"Gross, you guys," Jinyoung couldn't look at them, or the girls. He knew the routine by heart by now. He knew what they were doing. And it pained him not to watch. "At least give some respect to the girls."

+++

English class was the worst. The absolute worst. Not only was it bright and early, first class of his day, but to make matters worse, he just had to sit behind her.

Right behind Miss Star.

It wasn't too bad at first, she always smelled so strongly, beautifully. It was actually a pleasure to sit behind someone so fragrant. He'd sat behind a few people he was sure didn't shower—and they looked like it.

But her—she did—she showered.

Her hair always shined, flowed around her head. She was always neatly dressed. Never inappropriately dressed. Though, her dresses or skirts did give him inappropriate thoughts. Thoughts he would never admit. They were for him to know and the guys to never find out.

And thankfully none of them were in this class.

He could just hear Bam Bam now— "Ew, hyung, I can see your drool from over here." Or Mark— "Simp." Both reactions made him shutter.

"Um, did you hear me?"

A rush of heat washed over him. His mouth dropped open. "What?" he squeaked out, blinking several times in shock. She was talking to him. Miss Star was talking to him.

"We're gonna read," she quietly answered, holding up the play they were studying in class.

He nodded, cleared his throat and stood up from his seat.

Great.

He hoped the whole class was ready to hear him stutter through the entire act.

But wait—

He remembered her raising her hand. And said something. It was fuzzy but, had she volunteered him to read along with her?

And.

Wait...

Did she actually know who he was?

+++

When Jinyoung entered Bam Bam's dorm room, he held his head high, shoulders out broad and wide. There was no reason to be ashamed. He even threw the door open a little too hard, making a loud thud against the wall.

"Don't break my wall, dick," Bam Bam scowled at him, quickly at his side to check the damage. "You're lucky that thing didn't make a hole."

"Oh, you swear," Jinyoung rolled his eyes. He sauntered over to the empty spot beside Mark and easily sat down.

Mark snorted, immediately noticing the demeanor with which Jinyoung carried himself. "What's with you?"

"Nothing," Jinyoung brushed it off.

"Oh yeah?" Mark persisted.

"Just tell us," Jaebum huffs, over all the beating around the bush.

"Ok." Jinyoung fights back a smile. "Remember when you said a certain girl was out of my league?"

"Oh, here we go," Bam Bam snickers. "Yes, I do."

"Well she actually talked to me."

"So...?"

“So?” Jinyoung let out an indignant huff. “Did you not hear me? If she was out of my league would she even know my name?”

“Who cares if she knew your name or not? That’s honestly not a big deal.”

Jinyoung was flabbergasted. She knew his name. She wanted him to recite those lines with her. She acknowledged him. How was this not making any sense to anyone but him?

Bam Bam cleared his throat, thinking for a second. “What’s the only way hyung could prove she isn’t out of his league?”

Jackson cackled. “I know! You have to sleep with her and bring back her panties.”

Jinyoung frowns. "Do you have some weird kink you need to explain?"

Jackson glares at him. "No. But I can tell you're to scared to ask her out."

There was no way Jinyoung was agreeing to that. He scoffs. "I could if I wanted to. I just don't want to."

"Scared!" Mark coughs under his breath.

He laughed. He wasn't scared. No. He just wasn't in the place for a girlfriend. He had so much going on at the moment. School. Securing his future. Both very much a big deal for him.

Fun just wasn't in the cards for him.

The most fun he had was being drug out to the crazy fraternity parties the guys liked to attend. Even then, he couldn't remember the last time he'd made out with a girl.

And sex?

That was never.

God, he felt like a loser. No wonder they all called him a nerd.

+++

It was a dumb joke. A dumb, stupid joke. There was no way Jackson was being serious. Or so Jinyoung told himself. But still, the dumb joke ate at him. Picked away at his brain until it was all he thought about. And that was bad. Really bad.

Especially as he had been sitting in front of his computer for over an hour with only a blank document to show. He had an essay due in a couple of days and he was already pushing it. There was no time to be fantasizing over some girl when his grades were on the line.

He let out a loud sigh as he shut his laptop. Putting it off to the side, he stood up and stretched for a bit. He hadn't realized he'd been sitting so long and felt like moving around. Whenever he was feeling down, he knew it was time for a walk.

While walks didn't help much with his essays, they led to randomly finding inspiration for his photography instead. The walks were always at different times and with such spontaneity he took some really great photos.

And when he was really lucky, sometimes he would find her out practicing after hours. That was how he originally found her. She was beautiful, shined even in the fading sun. After randomly finding her, that's when he realized they shared a couple classes together. And he couldn't believe he even sat behind her for one. He felt so oblivious. She had been in his lap this whole time and all it took was one stroll to really see her.

Like his feet knew, he really didn't have to think it, they took him out onto the school field. And just like most days, there she was. The setting sun cast a shadow over her and even then she looked beautiful. Everything about her just looked beautiful when she was dancing. Sure, she was pretty in general but you could just feel the passion for it when she did any routine.

Jinyoung was so deeply watching her, he didn't notice the person jogging up behind him until they passed him. The guy keeled over, trying to catch his breath, obviously in a hurry.

"Do you know what time it is?" he barked out, once he could actually form words.

"Shit." Even her curses sounded beautiful. "Sorry. I just—"

"Save it, we have to go."

Immediately Jinyoung did not like this guy. Rude. Inconsiderate. Ugly.

Ok, the last one was too harsh.

"Ugly personality" fit him better.

"Right." With haste she spun around to grab her things, jogging after her.

Jinyoung wondered what was so important and why this guy was acting like this when he realized. Oh. No. She was coming right at him. He knew he had to hide. She would definitely think he was a creep. She would just know he was watching her. It would be all over before it even began.

But there was nowhere to go, so he stood there like an idiot.

"Oh, Jinyoung," she seemed surprised to see him.

"Y-yeah," he stutters, mentally kicking himself.

"Yah, let's go. You're making me late."

And with that—that whoever he was—she left.

Jinyoung's heart left right along with her.

+++

Ok. So it wasn't the end of the world. Maybe she had a boyfriend? Judging by the sound of his tone, it wasn't very affectionate so Jinyoung assumed it could be a possibility that that guy wasn't actually her boyfriend. But then again, he knew guys and girls couldn't really be friends.

He let out a sigh. He was back to square one. Not one step closer to figuring out who this mysterious guy was.

And sitting behind her, her lovely scent confusing his brain, Jinyoung realizes this is not the time and place to be thinking these thoughts. He hoped he wasn't scowling at her. Or something worse! Like maybe looking at her dejectedly like some kicked puppy. That would be way worse.

Thankfully their English teacher stopped droning on and dismissed the class. It shocked him how quickly he grabbed his things. He was out the door in record time, feeling like he needed to get far, very far, from her.

He was feeling too many things and—

"Wait! Jinyoung!"

Of course he stops dead in his tracks. Spinning on his heel, he doesn't expect her to be right on his step.

"Yes?" he whispers out. Clearing his throat, that sounded so silly so he says it louder. "Um, yeah?"

"So you find the school field therapeutic too?"

The question catches him off guard. He didn't expect her to bring it up so blatantly.

"Sure," he answers curtly. Not exactly sure where she's going with this.

"Me too," she grins friendly at him. "It's nice when you're all out there by yourself."

"You could say that," Jinyoung agrees weakly. Though he would never admit that he only went out there for her.

"I go out there everyday pretty much." I know, he thinks to himself. "You should come out again. Maybe you could watch me and tell me what you think."

She said more, but he wasn't really listening. Did she just invite him? Yes, she definitely did.But why? What about that guy?

—ok, he was getting ahead of himself. He needed to focus especially when she was staring at him. He missed whatever she said. "Huh?" he dumbly asked.

"I wouldn't mind if you watched," she stated again. And if he wasn't mistaken there was a bit of a lift in her voice. No, no, he was definitely imaging things. Things that he did not what to think about out in public.

Especially not when she cocked her head to the side, top lip biting the bottom and a finger twirling a strand of hair.

Jinyoung tried to swallow the lump in his throat but it wasn't clearing.

It was never a possibility that she might flirt with him.

+++

"Park!"

Jinyoung hears his last name screamed from across the hall. It's from the last person he wants to hear it from. Choi Youngjae is a few years younger than him and should show him some respect. But does he ever? No. Just like now.

"Hyung~" he sings out, gleeful that Jinyoung stopped.

"What now?"

It's sure to be another dumb photography assignment about a squirrel or something. Youngjae never came to him for serious things, things that might get him actually noticed in the school newspaper.

"Oh, don't get mad already. I have something good for you this time. Plus you can't complain since I always pay you."

"You?" Jinyoung questions. "The school pays me."

"Same difference. Anyway," he waves a hand. "This time it's the Majorette team."

Jinyoung chokes on the no he was about to say. "The what?"

"You heard me. Now it's fifty bucks, so what do you say?"

"I'll do it."

And that's how he ended up showing up on the school field, currently surrounded by all the girls on the majorette team. They were all talking at the same time, clearly confusing him and making him blush at the same time. Not to mention his favorite was still here. His ears may have been lost, but his eyes never left her.

"Girls!" their coach shouted, effectively quieting them all down. "Let the young man tell us what he has planned for you guys, ok?"

Jinyoung lets out a thankful sigh. He was just going to take some basic shots really. Nothing too fancy.

"Um... you guys can just do whatever routine you like. I'm not filming, just getting a few shots for the school paper."

The girls let out a sad hum, but quickly get into formation. Jinyoung is suprised by how efficient they are, but gets ready to take his photos.

It's only when he's got one knee on the floor, eyes glued to the camera that he notices something off. He has watched this same routine quite a few times but none are ever like this one. Miss Star is front and center, giving it her all as she normally does. But it feels more sexual in nature.

The winks, lip biting and...

He had to be imagining it. There was no way she would wear that to practice. If he could see, everyone could see the little black thong that did not hide anything. It was too much, too provocative for such a conservative team.

And it took everything in him to will away the growing erection in his pants.

When he could no longer kneel on the ground, he thanked god for the slightly bigger sweater he decided to wear that day. He turned around to slightly adjust his now too large boner and it was perfectly hid in his pants. Pretending to check the photos, he turned around just in time for the coach to come back his way.

"How does it look? Do my girls look great or what?"

"Yes ma'am," Jinyoung answers robotically. "I should get going. I'll get Youngjae to send you guys a copy of the paper!"

Jinyoung doesn't think he's ever ran away from something so fast in his life.

+++

Jaebum is out the door before Jinyoung can say anything. There's a smirk on his face and Jinyoung knows everyone is gonna hear about this, but he doesn't have time to think about that because Miss Star is at his dorm room door and she's pressing herself against him. The flowery scent that usually accompanies her is surrounding him now too. His mind goes blank before he thinks to ask why she's here and he feels his cock twitch at the feeling of her soft breasts pressing into his chest.

It almost feels like he's imagining it when she kisses him.

It's very real. Her lips are smooth and feel delicious against his own. On instinct, his arms wrap around her, hands running down her back, stopping just above her bottom. She pulls away at this and Jinyoung thinks he's went too far.

There's a lusty look in her eyes and she bites her bottom lip. "I've been waiting so long for you to make a move."

Her words startle him. "Really?"

"God, yes," she breaths out before going in for another kiss.

This time Jinyoung is more prepared and he feels a little more daring. As her kissing gets more feverish, his hands travel all the way south, cupping a good portion of her ass in his hand. Her butt is firm from all the moving she does and Jinyoung doesn't think he's felt a better ass.

She pulls away again, letting them both catch some air. "I can't wait any longer."

He doesn't fight her as she roughly pushes him down onto his bed. There's butterflies in his stomach now. Sure he'd made out a little, dry humped even, but he'd never gotten more than that. Now he wished he'd been a little more persistent with girls. Now the girl of his dreams seemed like she wanted to have sex with him and he certainly didn't want to suck at it.

For a moment, Jinyoung dumbly watches when she starts wiggling out of her skirt before he realizes he should probably get naked too. He looks away to undo his belt and free his now fully hard cock from his pants.

Just as she's fully naked—himself only half way—her phone rings. Together they both let out an annoyed sigh.

Jinyoung tries to be discreet and catch who is calling her but he really wished he didn't. His once hard cock slowly softens as she answers. He'd forgotten all about her mystery rude guy, but obviously she didn't.

Now he feels a little bad. He had no idea his perfect girl would be a cheater. Things really were not fair for him. Only when Jinyoung finally gets a chance with her, it isn't one that he can fully enjoy.

After a brief conversation, she starts getting dressed again. Jinyoung leaves his boxes, but quickly pulls on his pants. He's fully clothed when she's at his door.

"Sorry about this. I'll definitely make it up to you." She leaves him with a wink.

Jaebum returns a few hours later and Jinyoung is still sulking on his bed. His dick says to just enjoy the lay but his heart definitely says no. And while he is deeply debating himself, Jaebum manages to end it all with two words.

"Nice panties."

+++

Jinyoung has never been one to be aggressive, but he figures now is the time. It'd been a week since he'd almost gotten to taste his forbidden fruit, but she loved to keep teasing him. She'd drag him down an empty hallway after class to heatedly make out again or to get handsy, even gone as far as give him a blowjob once too.

But enough was enough. With each time he felt horrible, still thinking of that guy. Whoever he was. Or what he was to her. Finally his conscious had eaten away at him enough for him to take action.

"Wait," he gently held her back. She was currently in the process of trying to drop his pants again, which he so wanted, but didn't really need. He dick was harder than he liked to admit, it certainly didn't feel guilty, but enough is enough, he told himself again.

"Hmm?" she asked purring into his ear. He wasn't really trying to fight her off so she cozied up into his chest, face landing in the crook of his neck. He closed his eyes, trying not to enjoy her tongue circling designs on his neck.

With a shiver, he pushed her away again. "I need to know," he choked out.

"Know what?" she urged, pushing his hand away again to pepper kisses on his jaw.

If he already didn't feel like jello, he certainly did now. He almost wanted to say fuck it and take her back to his place again. Jaebum made it clear how happy he was that Jinyoung was 'finally getting some' and he knew that Jaebum would be gone in a heartbeat. Being friends for almost eight years had its perks. But it wasn't right. Yeah, he wanted to get laid, but Jinyoung was romantic. He didn't want to be someone's second best. Like some silly little appetizer while the real meal waited at home for her.

"Who is that guy?" he finally got out.

The question made her freeze and Jinyoung felt even worse. Her reaction said it all.

"What guy?"

Ok, he wasn't expecting that. "That guy," Jinyoung let out, frustrated that she had no clue who he was talking about. Surely she would remember her boyfriend! "Look if you have a boyfriend just admit it."

Now she seemed a little peeved. "I don't."

"Then who is the guy who called you the other day. He's also the one from the field."

She burst out laughing. "Ew. My brother? Just no."

The skeptical look on his face must not have set right with her. She quickly whipped out her phone and opened up instagram. "I'll show you." She typed in a name with a similar last name to her. Scrolling down, she stopped at a picture with him and her—it was actually a collage with pictures of them, even as kids. The caption was #siblinggoals. Jinyoung felt a little dumb now. Then, when she showed him the screen and he saw multiple pictures of the guy and the same girl over and over—he started to feel really bad then.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be," she smiled up at him, throwing her arms around his neck. "It was kinda hot that you were jealous."

"I wasn't jealous," Jinyoung tried to laugh it off, but clearly it wasn't working.

She giggled at him, looking up at him with lust in her doe eyes. "Wanna take this somewhere else?"

Jinyoung never nodded so fast in his life.

+++

Jinyoung barely gets the door open before she's attacking him again. She's furiously kissing him as he uses his shoulder to shut the door—not having any time to lock it—only able to take in each kiss with as much passion as she has.

They fall on the bed together, limbs tangled in a mess. Jinyoung loves the feeling of her on him, she's soft and warm, but there's something comforting about her. Everything is moving in slow motion and he feels more connected with her than he ever has.

Brushing her bangs out of her face, he takes this moment to really look at her. Of course, she's beautiful—he's always thought that. But there's a confidence about her, like how she didn't shy away just then. She's always the first to confront. So it doesn't surprise him when she pushes him down and straddles him.

"Mmmm," she moans out, starting a slow grind on him. He was already starting to get hard, but this solidified it. His hands instinctively move to her hips to steady her as she grinds a little harder each time.

"You're beautiful," Jinyoung can't help but say. Sure, he's feeling high on lust, but he means every bit of it. And he wants her to know. To him it was more than just sex.

She laughs and stops her movements. "Sure. We'll see how you feel afterward." She retorts and moves to strip him of his shirt.

"I'll feel just the same," Jinyoung defends as he grabs ahold of her arms. He knocks her over onto the bed and pins her down.

He's not quite sure what's come over him. Maybe it's the challenging tone in her voice, he's not sure, but he wants to be in control now. She'd almost removed his shirt, but he doesn't care. Instead, he leans down and teases her, like she teased him. He delicately started sucking on her neck as he worked on her shirt. Unlike him she had a button down shirt on. Hers was much more fun to remove. And when he undid the last button, he started leaving gentle kisses down her chest and stomach.

He hesitated when he got to her jeans, but it wasn't for very long.

Opening her jeans, he let out a little laugh. There was those infamous panties, only this time in red. And boy did red look even better on her. Especially up close like this. But this little piece of fabric was only getting in the way. Along with the jeans, he pulled them all the way off.

While she obviously felt very confident, he was still unsure with himself. And his skills. To avoid it, Jinyoung crawled back up to her. He wasn't going to leave her hanging though. He captured her lips in his own before sliding his hand down her stomach and cupped her sex.

She gasped in his mouth at this.

When his fingers started sliding along her slit, she moaned again. It was like music to his ears.

She let out a little whimper when he didn't proceed any further. And he got the hint when she nipped at his bottom lip, holding it briefly in between her teeth.

"Oops, guess I do bite," she whispered, her breath hot on his face.

God, she is incredibly sexy, he shivered at the thought.

"Fine," he breathed back and he pushed in. He didn't want to keep her waiting so he went straight to her sweet spot. She was wet, incredibly wet. He grinned as he slowly pushed a finger in. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Please," she moaned out. "More."

So he gave in. A second finger went in and she clinched down on him, surprising him. Given her positive reaction, Jinyoung felt confident and that he should experiment some more. Keeping a steady rhythm, he scooted down to greet her vagina. Face to face with it, he ran his tongue around, exploring her forbidden fruit.

Again she begged for more.

So he complied, beginning to lap at her core, enjoying all the little noises she produced. And when one of her hands tangled into his hair, he knew he couldn't stop. He had to see this through, her excitement like a drug to him.

He had purposely been ignoring her clit, but now he knew it was time to give it some love. He swirled his tongue around it and when her legs closed on his head he knew that's what she wanted all along.

He'd forgotten his fingers in her so he continued pumping in and out of her, now in sync with his tongue. Her shivers made him grin. And it wasn't long before he had her meowing out his name, grinding with his tongue, a completely mess under him as she came.

He grinned up at her, relieved to see he was the reason she looked like this.

Using one finger, she motioned for him to come to her. "You're cute, you know?" she started undoing his belt. And slowly, teasing him, she unzipped his pants. "Your turn now," she said hand running along his hardened dick through his boxers.

She freed his dick and it gave her a standing ovation. Jinyoung's eyes went wide when she completely took him in her mouth. All of it disappeared into her mouth, almost to the point of choking on it. But she grinned around his dick and stared him straight in the eye. Jinyoung wanted to cum right there, but she had other plans. She continued to bob her head on his dick, slurping and sucking along the way. He closed his eyes and leaned back just to enjoy the moment, the feeling.

When she suddenly stopped, his eyes flew open in confusion.

"Don't look so sad, big boy," she teased. "Let's get these off," she told him, tugging on his jeans.

Helping her, he lifted himself up to remove the bothersome clothes.

"Oh," he let out when she now climbed all the way up him. With ease she mounted him, sliding his dick into her. She felt like heaven. Wet, tight and amazing. "Fuck," he cursed out, hands grabbing on either side of her. She moaned as well, head thrown back and just enjoying the feeling of him in her.

His hands traveled down her waist to her butt and he gave her a hard slap on the ass. She let out a laugh before preceding to bend down and kiss him.

As the makeout got more intense so did her grinding. With the pace she was going, he didn't think he would last any longer. Finally he came inside her, feeling more satisfied than he'd ever felt.

When she crawled back up the bed, he put his arms out to hold her against his chest.

He just knew he wanted this for the rest of his life.

+++

Thankfully Jaebum didn't let the cat out of the bag. Jinyoung begged him to not let anyone know because—a) nothing was actually happening and b) jinyoung was a terrible liar. Especially with Bam Bam and Mark trying to break him. Nothing got passed those two.

So to walk into Bam Bam's room again, feeling like a million bucks—for real this time—felt great. There was no greater feeling, well there was, but that was obvious.

"Here," he said, throwing Miss Star's black lacy panties in the middle of the makeshift circle they formed.

"What is this?" Jackson questioned, picking it up delicately. "Or who's is this?" he muttered.

"Oh My God!" Bam Bam exclaimed, hand to mouth as he took in Jinyoung. "Are those hickies?" he gasped.

"Trying calling me a simp now," he gloated, particularly in Mark's direction.

And while all this did feel good. He knew it would feel better if it was for more than just sex. So when all that he had wanted to say and do had been done, Jinyoung left the dorm. He was off to go make a certain untouchable girl finally his.

[iam-kenough]

Will  you ever notice me? Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Summary: During they wandering in deep snowstorm, man from van der Linde gang found odd looking girl and Dutch decides to take her to camp to see if she can be any use, leading life of outlaw with them. Quickly, new girl develops feelings towards Arthur, but he sees her just as a kid...and she won't take that! It's an original character story that starts in the place where Arthur, Dutch and Micah were supposed to first meet with Sadie. Instead she's already with them.

Authors notes: It’s second chapter and you can find the rest of chapter on my blog if you want to read more of my fanfiction.

Word count: 2978 Chapter 2

It was next day's evening when they landed on new camp's place. Everyone started arranging their tents and some of them decided to go to the lake and bath after long trip.

- The water is so damn cold! But it was nice to take a bath after all those hours- Iris was talking to Mary-Beth and her teeth were chattering. She decided to wear woolen dress Mary gave to her, not being even slightly suspicious why Iris would wear a dress so badly. It was nice, wine red and warm one. She decided to tweeze her brows a little bit and she brushed her long, black hair putting them in loose bun. Even though she will undress and wear only chemise in her bed in less than 3 hours.

Iris looked around and sighed. All good places for a tent were taken and she couldn't sleep with girls in their tent 'cause it was too small. She had to prepare her own but there was only one way left to do that.

- Knock, knock - she said awkwardly, knocking on one of polls holding Arthur's tent. He was on his coot, drawing something in his journal. It catched her attention. Didn't know he's romantic soul who would sketch while sulking like this.

- How can I help ya? - he closed the book and looked at her shyly. He analysed her posture in new clothes but very quickly so it wouldn't scare her or make her uncomfortable. Girls usually didn't like his sight on them.

- Will it bother you if I will place my tent right next to yours? All good spots were taken when I took a bath - her cheeks flushed a little bit. She even tried to flirt with him and bat her eyes, while she squeezed fabric of her dress.

- It's rather if I won't bother you, kid.

If I could I would devour you right here, Mr Morgan and you would be the only person not bothering me. I would undress you from your bright blue shirt which matches your eyes so good and I would let you pop my cherry...

- You'right out there, kid? Asked ya if I won't bother you.

- N-no, never. Thank you, Mr Morgan - she jumped into the air and disappeared to set her tent. It was mirroring his and when she was looking above her trunk she could see him, deeply in his thoughts. Honestly, if they would rearrange it a little bit more they would have big, shared tent with two beds next to eachother. But she they wasn't close enough for Iris to ask for it even if she wouldn't mind.

Later that night they had supper prepared by her and Mr Pearson. Almost everyone was eating together but she noticed Arthur hidden in his spot. She went to her tent and sat on the coot mirroring his position.

- I hope it tastes good? - Iris asked after few minutes. He raised her eyes surprised at her.

- You eatin' with my poor companion? I see everyone gathering around the fire.

- They're all nice and stuff but I like to eat in peace. You're not bad to be with, Mr Morgan.

It sounded a little bit frivolous and she actually liked it, surprised with her own temper.

He blushed. Or rather tips of his ears did.

- It's just surprising 'cause yall girls are always eating together. And yes, this stew is amazing - he liked his fingers and brushed his dirty mouth with his sleeve.

Normally she would jerk away on this kind of behaviour but she giggled at sight of big man eating messy like that.

- Girls are okay, especially Tilly and Mary, but Karen has...a little bit to intense character. Oh, and Dutch's girlfriend. That lady hates me.

- She hates everybody, dont'cha worry.

- Today she hit Dutch with a book, saying he's throwing me looks - Iris was giggling and she brushed loose hair behind her ear.

- Looks, ya say? Oh don't worry, you just new, that's why he does that, kid.

- She's rather young too, you know. It's just the make-up she uses, makes her look older.

- Ya say? Nah, you still look like kid to me. With all those freckles and you being thin. Not so sure you should go with us to rob that train, I will have to watch you all the time - his voice was low and he chuckled.

Ouch, that was bad! So he doesn't like freckles...It's nothing I can do about it. But maybe if I'm gonna eat more I'll stop being thin, get some bust maybe and then-

- You sure you want to sit here with me? You seemed bored with my old feller talkin'.

- I-I am not bored at all. Can you show me what are you drawing?

He brushed his chin, sign of him being shy and he passed her the journal. On two pages he drew their whole new camp.

- I must say you can draw, Mr Morgan. You've got talent - she passed the journal back and their hands brushed against each other. She blushed again.

- Talent that's useless for sure - his voice was low and nice and he almost sounded like purring cat. Iris felt knot tying up in her stomach.

- It's not, it's not! - she shaked her head - I find it really pretty. You could draw something for me one day - it was supposed to be flirt and she bit her lower lip but he didn't notice that. He just cheered up.

- What you like, then? I can draw it for you - he patted her arm in friendly manner. They were so close right now, their faces next to each other. She could smell him.

What do I like? Your lips, your intriguing eyes, the fact that your hair was so messy and the fact you smell like whiskey, cigarettes and sweat.

- Flowers - she said plainly, looking at her feet - Any flowers are good. Or animals. I saw you sketching deer one day.

- I've been hit on my head a lot so if I would forget remind me of it, kid - she looked at him once again and licked her lower lip, becoming red on her cheeks. He started looking at her quizzically.

- I think you catched a cold, kid, you seem burning up. Better go to sleep, tomorrow's a day too.

Knot in her stomach popped and she lowered her head. Kid, you say. Im gonna show you, one day I will gain weight, have some reall boobs and nice mature dresses and you will look at me the right way. She got up a little bit too quick, tears forming in corner of her eyes but he was facing her back almost immediately and he didn't see.

- Y-you right, I don't feel my best - she answered with shaking voice and she rubbed her eyes - I'm...gonna get some rest. Goodnight, Mr Morgan.

- Uh-, yea, good night - he read her bad, he was sure she's sick but she seemed rather irritated by the fact he noticed? I will apologize tomorrow.

She put on the curtain between the halves of tent which was giving them privacy now and she sighed. At first she looked in small mirror she owned and analised her own face. You ugly, Iris.

Girl looked at herself quizzically. Big, green eyes with long lashes and nice, pink lips but then freckles happened, covering her nose and cheeks. Her hair were jet black but wavy instead of sleek locks of other girls around. Iris started undressing herself and she looked at her figure with disgust. She had round hips and long legs, but that's it. She looked thin and had small breast and that was not what men would look at. It's not what he would look at.

When she put on her night gown and layed down she looking at tents ceiling and thinking. Oil lamp in Arthur's half stopped giving light, he was going to sleep. She heard him getting comfortable on his bed and after few minutes he was breathing heavily.

She drifted away in her sleep, thinking how it would be to cuddle his big frame.

Another few weeks passed and in this time Iris tried her best to prove she's mature and strong but also femine at the same time. It was difficult to kill a man at 4 and then acting like a subtle lady few hours later. It was nice, warm evening and girls decided to go swimming after long day of work. Iris was so happy and relaxed as she and Mary - Beth was looking at red sky and Tilly with Karen was fooling around in water.

- Can I tell you a secret? You will like it - Iris whispered. Mary seemed excited immediately.

- Tell me, tell me! - she giggled

- I fell in love - Iris whispered to her ear and her friend become red from blushing.

-No way! Who, who is he? Or maybe she? - Blond girl tickled brunette a little bit.

- It's him, yes. But I wouldn't mind you...- they purred at each other and then burst into laugh.

- Who? I bet it's John, all girls are sweet on him and Abigail hates us for that.

-Nope!

- Bill!

-No!

- New O'Driscolls boy!

- Ew!

- Then who, Dutch?

- You must be crazy! I mean...he's not bad if you think about him but this red-head witch he's with? I have no chances - Iris was laughing so badly.

- You have to tell me! But then it has to be someone from outside the camp...

-No! He's there, Mary-Beth, please don't make me say his name out loud.

And then Mary became pale. Then red again. Then she got up.

-No! From all of them you choosed Arthur Morgan?!

- Shhh! We are too close to the camp!

- But why?! He's sweet but we have never seen him with woman, you know. I think he's a little bit weird about it. Dutch once laughed at him taking a bath with a dog when camp had one.

- W-Well...he seems a little awkward and he's like wild animal more than a man but he's charming and he always complemented food I make and he always talks to me in the evening.

- At least he talks to you, he usually doesn't. To no one.

- That's my problem, he talks to me but he seemes to see me as a kid. I tried everything! Few days ago I was sitting with him and we was both reading a book and I looked at him so nicely, I tried my best to look at him with hazy, flirting eyes. And he asked me if I needed glasses because I blink a lot.

- Well...I don't know how to help you - Mary said as they were walking towards camp - usually it's easy, a little bit of exposed skin and being close. You should try it.

- I should...I should go to his tent dressing my nightgown for example?

- Oh, that's an idea! I saw it and it's really cute and...hot.

-Mary- Beth, are you hitting on me? - she joked as they was passing Hosea's tent. Girls heard him talking with Arthur and they would ignore but they heard Iris's name. They started listening immediately, hiding behind the tent to eaves dropping.

- And this new girl, Iris's her name - Hosea said.

- What's with her?

- Just wanted to know what you think about her - he seemed to tease Arthur a little bit.

- It's good kid, she seems to like my company. And honestly, I like hers, she doesn't talk that much comparing to any of you fools - he cleared his throat.

- I thought that you are much closer. Basically sharing a tent and talking every evening...

- What d'ya say, Hosea?

- How long have been since you had a woman, Arthur?

- Not long enough to think about it again- his voice became angry in the nick of time - it's kid we talking about, don't get the wrong idea.

Iris inhaled sharply and bit her lower lip, while her eyes became glossy. But she listened, she couldn't stop.

- Isn't it obvious, Arthur? She looks at you very odd way and she enjoys your company a lot, lot more than others.

- I didn't notice. By the way, she's not stupid. I'm much older and I have past, just no way I would be with her. She doesn't love me to start with. One day she will leave the camp to have a normal life.

Sound of tears dropping on Iris's dress was the only sound she was making. She got up quickly and in a blink of an eye disappeared, running into the woods.

- Iris?! - Mary- Beth tried to follow her but she tripped over one of tent's strings. She sweared ugly.

This is bad, so bad - was all Iris was thinking. Her breathing heavy, her eyes red. She stopped in the middle of nowhere, just when she was sure all around her was dark forest. She didn't even know why she was so agry. Maybe because he said out loud things I thought about myself? Maybe because she was sure that his ears getting red were sign of him considering her as someone hot?

But look at yourself, c'mon. When father lived, he always told you you gonna become a maid, because no man would touch something so fragile, that looks constantly sick. He was right, oh so badly right. And now Iris had to apologise to Mary-Beth for leaving her like that.It was dark night when she got back to the camp, everyone sleeping in their tents. Only one oil lamp was glowing. She decided to act like nothing happen, just not to lose his friendship, ever. So she took a deep breath and peaked her head inside his part of tent.

- Just wanted to say good night, Mr Morgan - was all she said, smiling faintly.

- Kid! You weren't there for supper. Did something happened?

- N-no...just small fight with girls - she lied without hesitation. Then smiled a little bit more so he won't be suspicious. He always was but he was taking her lies as an answer, 'cause she lied when it would expose her feelings.

- Small fight made you disappear without word? Y'got hot head then - he joked. His blue eyes were piercing her.

- Maybe a little - he didn't see nothing good about her anyway, she could become hothead in his eyes even it was inappropriate for woman.

- Wanna talk about it?

- With you? I-I mean we can but it's nothing. Really.

- You seem sad lately, kid. Is someone or something bothering you?

- Ah...no, just stupid, girly things.

- Girly things - he seemed a little bit scared now.

- Interests of heart, to call it. Nothing too exciting, especially for you.

He became silent. So she wasn't considering him as a close friend if she didn't want to tell. He thought different for a second but...she was right, he was no friend.

- Were you ever in love, Mr Morgan? - he heard her voice from behind one of trunks. She probably lied on her bed.

- F'course I was. But if you askin' me 'bout those things ya need to share with me first, ya know? What are those Interests of heart, huh?

She took deep breath. After few seconds she knew how to tell it without being obvious.

- I just fell in love with someone who will never accept me. He's good friend and that's only reason I didn't tell him yet. But I know....I heard what's he talking about me, no need to share my feelings with him, because he considers me strongly as a friend, nothing more. It would make our relationship awkward.

He furrowed his brows. So she was seeing someone. He wondered who.

- That sounds a lil' bit bad, kiddo. Maybe I don't look like but I know how to have a broken heart - he said as his eyes become glossy. She couldn't see them anyway, so he didn't hold back thinking about Mary right now - But if it's your friend he shouldn't judge ya, ya know. Even if he doesn't share feelings with you. You sure, he does not?

- One hundred percent sure - she said that very slowly because those words left bitter on her tongue - and I'm not afraid of being judged, I just know it would destroy our friendship.

- He's no friend then - Arthur replied shortly. He felt like dumbass but if she liked talking to him about all of this he felt appreciated.

Iris took deep breath. You are a friend. The closest one I have now after those weeks that passed. And I will cherish you forever, even if your lack of knowledge will hurt me sometimes.

- He is. About this I'm sure. I really love this person. Thank you, Mr Morgan for listening to me - it sounded like she thanked him for listening but she was actually thanking him for everything.

It seemed like yesterday when they rescued her but it wasn't. Many days passed and she already shared with him many thoughts but also many jobs, even dangerous one. They robbed trains together after all. They was murdering together. And every evening they were lying in their beds and talking. They usually looked at their tent's ceiling but she didn't mind. He seemed so sad and distanced, always worried. She also noticed his extremely low self-esteem, he always was talking that he's not good man and that he's stupid on account being hit on the head to often.

She had fallen asleep to those thoughts.

[maybankiara]

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera

summary: With Midsummers having come and gone, Kiara thinks the only consequences will be their friends teasing them for a little bit, and telling her parents they called it off slips her mind. Nobody expects the Carreras to decide they want to see JJ again, and when they do, it’s pretend all over again.

word count: 6k

almost pretend masterlist | tag list

read on ao3

previous chapter

‘So, did you guys mack on each other?’

  John B’s arm is slung over Sarah’s shoulder as they are both draped over one of the hammocks in Chateau’s backyard. He’s grinning at the trio in the hammock opposite of theirs, mostly at Kiara and JJ. 

  ‘Please,’ scoffs Kiara. ‘As if I’d ever.’

  ‘Ouch, Kie.’ Next to her, JJ puts a hand on his chest, pouting. ‘I think I heard my heart crack.’

  ‘Pope will fix it for you.’

  ‘Nu-uh, I’m nobody’s mechanic.’

  ‘Not even for me?’

  Pope makes a throwing-away motion with his hand, shaking his head at JJ. ‘Not even for you.’

  ‘Ouch! You guys are mean.’ JJ sighs. He pats Kiara and Pope’s thighs as he pushes himself off the hammock, accompanied with grunts from the two. ‘I’m getting beer. Anyone want some?’

  They all say they do, which makes him groan at himself for trying to be nice to them, but goes to get it for them anyway. It feels as if the atmosphere has shifted ever so slightly, with all three remaining people having their eyes trained on Kiara now. 

  ‘What?’

  ‘So you really didn’t kiss?’ asks Sarah.

  ‘No! We didn’t!’ Kiara sighs and lets herself be swallowed by the hammock, taking up the space JJ left empty. Her head is touching Pope’s lap and he’s looking at her as if he’s waiting for her to say something else. ‘Why are you guys being so insistent on that?’

  Pope cocks his head to the side, exchanging a quick glance with the other two before looking back at her. ‘I don’t know. We just thought something could’ve happened.’

  She feels her chest stiffen. ‘Did you guys make bets?’

  ‘No,’ says Pope, but he’s an awful liar. ‘No, we didn’t.’

  Kiara decides to let it slide.

  ‘You guys are making me feel uncomfortable. It was just one night and it’s over. We can talk about something else, like asking John B and Sarah if they had enough condoms for their little escapade while Big John was away for the weekend.’

  As if on cue, Kiara hears JJ’s footsteps coming from the Chateau, accompanied by a rant about having to carry this many cans all on his own. It’s enough to take the Pogues’ attention away from the topic they’d been discussing, and beer is enough to get them to actually talk about something else. 

  JJ comes to sit back down with Kiara and Pope. She doesn’t realise in time, so she doesn’t raise her head up from his spot, but he pulls her legs up and sits down, putting them over his lap instead. 

  It’s such a nonchalant, effortless movement that she thinks nobody notices. But JJ’s hands are on her legs and she feels them move as he talks, and it’s difficult to get the group’s previous conversation out of her head. 

  it’s just jj, she thinks, and the thought releases the heaviness from her chest. 

  (just john, she thinks, and it’s stupid enough to make her light again.)

  ★

Eventually, though, the conversation does get back to Midsummers. It’s Pope who starts it as they drive back to the Chateau, leftovers from the Wreck in the back of the van with him and JJ. 

  ‘So, what’s the deal with you two?’ he asks, mouth full of fries. ‘What do you do now that your entire family and Kooklandia think you’re dating?’

  Kiara munches on her burger, glancing at Pope. Next to him, JJ is staring at her with a question in his eyes – they haven’t talked about this. 

  She stuffs a fry into her mouth and shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.’

  Pope bumps JJ’s shoulder. ‘Hey, now you’ve got to keep pretending until you’re Mr. Carrera and it’s too late to stop.’

  ‘Hey, if the kooks like me as much as they did that night, I don’t mind.’

  ‘Ew.’ The boy next to him makes a grimace, scrunching up his nose. ‘Kook sympathiser.’

  ‘You’re just jealous.’

  ‘Well, yeah. We all are. Except for Kiara.’

  Kiara smiles, rolling her eyes at the half-assed joke, but the words take her back to half-assed smiles the kooks gave her and her family. It takes her back to JJ giving her hand a squeeze and keeping her calm throughout the night, so she looks at the road, instead. 

  John B’s concentrated on driving with a burger in one hand, and it’s easier to pretend it’s just the two of them. She knows JJ is perceptive enough to have a better understanding of her kook status than any of the other two – she doesn’t want to see whatever must’ve been on his face after Pope’s words. 

  Especially not pity. 

  The whole charade is mentioned only once more that night, when they’re having the last of beers, just John B, JJ, and herself. Pope left earlier to get a good night’s sleep as his dad expects him to work first thing in the morning, and Sarah is busy spending time with her family (they’re doing some therapy one of her dad’s friends suggested, because he found out about her brother’s addiction).

  ‘You know, JJ, you’re one hell of a fake boyfriend,’ Kiara says. She raises her can in the air, exchanging glances with both boys. ‘I wanna cheers to that.’

  ‘Hell yeah. That’s what I wanted to hear.’

  All three of them bump cans into one another, laughing as it takes them a lot more effort than it would if they were sober. 

  Next to Kiara, JJ spreads his arms over the couch behind him. ‘You know, it was a good night.’

  ‘What was he like?’ asks John B. He’s sitting across the two, leaning against the wooden wall. He shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer. ‘JJ in the middle of Kooklandia. I can’t picture that.’

  ‘Oh, he was loving it,’ Kiara answers. ‘He tricked at least a dozen of them into thinking that they’d do business with him, or whatever. You know, the usual.’

  John B laughs. 

  ‘Yeah. I was a real catch that night.’

  Kiara glances at JJ, because his voice seems a little distant, and not in a drunk kind of way. 

  He’s looking at the space between the three of them, eyes out of focus. There’s the hint of a smile dancing in one corner of his lips, but it looks like something that’s a reflex, nothing else. JJ looks almost entirely different in that moment – it reminds her of the JJ she spoke to at the beach during the party, when he needed a few minutes of quiet. 

  Her hand reaches for his and she gives it a little squeeze. If John B notices, he doesn’t mention it. For a moment, JJ does nothing, but then she feels him applying the same pressure. He raises his head and gives her a little nod, as if he’s saying i’m okay.

  Kiara sends him a smile, before turning to John B. ‘He had all the kook ladies willing to leave their ugly ass husbands for him. The James Dean of our times.’ 

  John B laughs and JJ comments how James Dean was actually bisexual and he isn’t, and soon enough, it begins to feel a little less out of place. Still, JJ doesn’t let go of her hand even as he waves around the air with the other one. 

  It’s the first time that Kiara notices something has changed since Midsummers. Spending the night with JJ in an environment neither of them felt comfortable in exposed some part of their personalities they haven’t shown to one another before, and not to the pogues, either. She looks at him, now, as he talks about why the movies James Dean starred in are valuable pieces of art, and thinks about how she doesn’t see him the same as before. 

  They have something that’s just theirs, realises Kiara. The experience of Midsummers and the things they found out about one another is something only the two of them share. 

  He doesn’t let go of her hand until he’s back to his old, JJ Maybank-self.

  ★

Kiara is at work when her dad tells her to invite John to dinner tomorrow. She’s got her hands full of plates and glasses and nearly just about costs her dad 200 bucks when she almost drops them. 

  ‘Careful, Kiara!’

  ‘Sorry,’ she says, turning in the spot. ‘Um, JJ? Are you sure?’

  A slight wrinkle appears between Mike’s eyebrows. He flips a steak he’s currently cooking, handling the pan and the spatula at the same time. ‘Yeah. That’s your boyfriend’s name, right? John?’

  ‘Um. We call him JJ.’

  ‘JJ, then.’

  Mike makes an offhand motion towards the waiting area of the restaurant. The dishes on Kiara’s tray shake as she walks where he directed to, towards a table with a family of four. She manages a smile, but the conversation is cut short when she finds herself incapable of holding one. The mother thanks her and she’s kind enough that Kiara’s newfound jitters don’t end up causing a scene. 

  On her way back, she stops at the bar, taking a breather. 

  fuck. 

  ‘You good, Kie?’ From behind the bar, her cousin Iona throws a dish towel over her shoulder, a toothpick in her mouth. ‘Looking a little pale.’

  Kiara nods. She glances at her dad, who’s busy taking an order on the phone, and feels herself shudder. ‘All good. Just got a little lightheaded.’

  ‘You’ve been on your feet too long,’ notes Iona. She grins and cocks her head to the side, towards the backdoor of the restaurant. ‘Go out and take five. I’ll deal with your pops.’

  ‘Iona, you’re a gem.’

  Outside the back of the Wreck, there’s a little wooden bench where Iona usually sits on during her breaks. There’s cigarette butts in the little ashtray on the side of the bench, and she wonder how stressed just does her cousin get. 

  (Of course, she’s got better things to wonder about, the ones that are actually causing her to feel like she’s walking on needles, but ignoring them feels better.)

  Iona’s been working at the Wreck for about seven years now. At the age of almost twenty-one, she’s the eldest of Kiara’s cousins on her dad’s side and she’s by far the one she’s closest to. They’re friends, kind of, even if they aren’t in the same social circles. Kiara knows Iona’s friend group does drugs harder than weed, and the girl being from the Cut, she’s gotten herself in a fair share of trouble already.

  This brings her thoughts back to another person from there who can’t seem to stay out of trouble, and Kiara rubs her forehead with the back of her hand, feeling her shoulders slouch. 

  It’s been nearly two weeks since Midsummers and foolishly, she forgot about the whole “dating” situation. Even the pogues stopped harassing her and JJ about what happened, or what might’ve happened.

  She forgot. Her parents didn’t. Her parents still think she’s dating JJ because she forgot the part of her plan where she tells them they ended things, amicably, and now she’s too much of a pussy to do it. 

  fuck. 

  Kiara just wants to throw something, but the only thing on hand is the ashtray, so she just kicks the bench underneath her. 

  It hurts her heel. She curses again and grits her teeth, angrier by the second.

  JJ is going to kill her. She promised him it would be a one-time thing and even if he joked to the pogues that he wouldn’t mind doing it again, that doesn’t make it okay. 

  It’s been more than five minutes, Kiara is angry and her foot is starting to really hurt and her dad is going to call her back in any second now. Her mind is buzzing – she’s freaking out, a little bit, maybe. 

  Her phone’s in her pocket, so she takes it out and shoots JJ a text. It’s short and concise and it explains what’s going on a little better than the one before Midsummers did, but she’s still a jittery bundle of nerves. She even has the urge to bite her nails, or pick at the ends of her hair, which is a JJ thing to do, not Kiara. 

  The phone in her hand buzzes and she pulls down the notification, reading only the first text before opening the chat. Her heart already sets in her chest – the rests of the messages that keep buzzing in only make it calmer. 

  JJ [7:22pm] ur dads offering free food. of course im coming

  JJ [7:22pm] do you think kiara carreras bf would wear a tie to smth like that or just jeans 

  JJ [7:23pm] also does your dad send innocent boys to military 

  JJ [7:23pm] that ones for science

  Kiara sends another text, telling JJ to stop asking and get into character! and the fact that he doesn’t even seem upset about this not being a one-time thing, gives her enough rest to finish her shift. Even her dad mentions she’s all chipper when she tells him JJ has agreed to come over, and Iona tells her she knew it was about a boy. 

  It doesn’t matter. Kiara finishes the rest of her shift with a spring in her step – for whatever reason, she has a good feeling about this.

   

★

JJ shows up too soon. It’s just fifteen minutes, but dinner isn’t ready yet and the table isn’t set and the living room is a little bit of a hot mess, so Kiara just takes him to her room. Through the hum of the cooker hood, she hears her dad shout at them to keep the door open, and it relieves some of the tension that anchored itself within her chest. 

  If they’re wanting to close the door, it will be for a variety of things they shouldn’t be doing, but sex isn’t one of them. 

  JJ plops face-down onto her bed, making a whew! sound. He’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a Kildare County logo, probably stolen from his dad. Kiara told him to dress like he’d dress if he was genuinely going to have dinner with his girlfriend’s parents for the first time (and now she’s slightly regretting not actually choosing the outfit). 

  ‘You’re not going to impress anyone looking like that,’ she notes, getting into a cross-legged position next to him. 

  He pushes himself off the mattress, just enough to prop his torso on his elbows. ‘Are you saying I’m not parent-approved?’

  ‘I don’t know. You might not be.’

  ‘Shit. What if they make you break up with me?’

  Kiara covers her mouth with her hand, shaking her head in feigned disbelief. ‘But you’re my true love!’

  ‘It’s okay.’ JJ’s hand is on her knee and his expression is soft, enough to make her almost believe in it. ‘Love always finds a way.’

  It’s almost good enough, Kiara tells herself, almost. Because there’s little wrinkles in his forehead and a gleam to his eyes and the curve of his lips is somehow different than she’s used to, a little less prominent but somehow more, and suddenly Kiara is thinking of a lot of things at once. 

  What she does is roll back in laughter, sticking her hands in her hair. She looks at JJ, and he’s smiling right back at her. 

  ‘You’re a terrific actor,’ she tells him. ‘I don’t think we’ll have any problems tonight.’

  ‘You, on the other hand…’

  ‘Oh, excuse me!’ She pushes him so he loses his balance and falls on his side, groaning. ‘I’ll have you know that I’m good at acting.’

  JJ scofs. He shakes his head and his hair loses some, if nearly all of its composure. ‘Sure, yeah, I remember how that play went in sixth grade.’

  ‘We don’t talk about that.’

  ‘We don’t?’

  Kiara shakes her head. 

  ‘Must’ve missed the memo, then. They didn’t give it to actually good actors.’

  JJ receives a playful slap on the back and just as she begins to tickle him, her mother calls their names from downstairs. They smoothen each other’s clothes, looking for any wrinkles and imperfections, and JJ’s thumb brushes off a smudge of chapstick he caused by tickling Kiara when she was putting it on.

  (‘What are you wearing lipstick for?’

  ‘It’s cherry chapstick, dumbass. So my lips aren’t crusty. Smell it.’)

  Neither of them is taken aback by the intimacy of the action, even if the edge of Kiara’s lips burns where he touched it. Her dad calls them again and Kiara’s fingers go through JJ’s blonde hair fixing it into a little bit less of a mess, but still messier than he came with. 

  He glances at himself in the mirror and frowns at Kiara through it. ‘Why did you mess it up?’

  Kiara smiles. ‘Can’t have you too perfect, I don’t want them to like you too much. Anyway, let’s go eat.’

   ★

Dinner at the Carreras’, especially when there’s people over to impress, is a big deal. Kiara’s dad is the owner of the Wreck, which is one of the two restaurants from the island that employ people from the island, as opposed to Figure Eight’s staff imported from some of the finest restaurants on the mainland. That means he gets down and dirty, and adores preparing meals, so whatever he’s going to serve is going to be nothing short of a five-star meal. 

  When they came down to the table, Mike and Anna had prepared a full feast. Roast chicken with onion and sage stuffing sat in the middle, a variety of salads and toppings and side dishes scattered around it. They didn’t know what JJ liked, and when Kiara said that he’ll eat just about anything he can get his hands on, even mouldy bread, Mike decided to show the boy what a dinner is.

  There are times when Kiara wonders if he’s heard stories about Luke Maybank – if he has an inkling of what’s happening behind closed doors in the Maybank family. 

  In any case, both Carreras were right. JJ ended up tasting a bit of everything, taking as much as he could and showering her dad with compliments. 

  They’re ready for dessert, JJ finally having admitted that he’s left just enough room for it, and Anna invites Kiara to come along to the kitchen. 

  ‘He’s a lovely boy,’ her mom notes. 

  ‘Mom!’ 

  Kiara leans back a little, just enough to see through the kitchen door. JJ has a smile on his face as he chats to her dad, and even though she can tell there’s a little bit of fearful respect hiding behind it, it’s better than she could’ve hoped for. 

  The thought brings out a smile to her face, too. ‘He is.’

  ‘You should’ve introduced him to us sooner.’ Her mom hands her a clean plate one after the other, and Kiara stacks them. ‘Your dad seems to like him.’

  Her eyebrows perk up at Anna’s words. ‘He does?’

  ‘Mhm. I haven’t seen him this interested in a boy in a long time, even the ones working for him.’  

  ‘But he’s interrogating him,’ Kiara counters. 

  ‘He’s making sure John is—sorry, JJ is the right person for you and won’t screw you over.’

  All Kiara gives in response is a sigh. She watches her mother cut the cake she made (her dad sucks at baking) and she can already tell JJ is going to love it. It’s got custard filling on the inside, between the biscuit layers, and chocolate sprinkles on top with a crunchy crust on the outside. 

  It’s yet another thought that makes her smile. 

  Anna places a piece on the plate Kiara is currently holding. It’s not supposed to take long, but she is as diligent as her husband when it comes to food, so it does. 

  Kiara can overhear the conversation taking place in the dining room, but not enough to be able to tell apart what they’re talking about. She can only hope it isn’t about her. 

  ‘You know,’ her mom begins, putting a piece on another plate. ‘It’s very obvious that he cares a lot for you.’

  ‘Obviously, he’s my best friend. And boyfriend,’ she adds, quickly. ‘Best friend and boyfriend.’

  ‘The winning combination.’ Anna gives her daughter one of her rare, earnest smiles. ‘I can see it in his eyes, you know. When he looks at you, it’s as if you’re the only thing he sees.’

  Kiara shifts the plates in her hands, maneuvering them around, really doing just about anything she can to hide her face from her mother. She knows she’s blushing—she feels the heat in her cheeks, on her neck, on her freaking palms—and she doesn’t want that to be seen. 

  ‘Don’t hide from me, I can tell what you’re doing. You’ve got the same look in your eyes, you know? It’s not something to be ashamed of.’

  it is when you’re not actually dating, Kiara thinks, but bites her tongue before the words slip out.

  She just nods, manages to come up with a smile and follows back into the dining room. Anna is the one who presents the cake and just like Kiara thought, JJ hardly contains himself before reaching for his piece (and then a few more). She likes seeing him enjoy himself; she likes seeing him happy, even if her dad terrifies him. 

  Kiara has some cake, too, and listens to JJ tell a story from his childhood. He leaves out a few major details that would classify the story as illegal, and both her parents laugh at it. 

  At some point, JJ notices something’s up with her. He doesn’t say anything, listening intently to Anna’s tales about being a lawyer since JJ expressed some interest in the profession, but his hand finds hers under the table. It’s a subtle touch, more of a question than a statement, and Kiara’s fingers intertwine with his. 

  Some time later, her parents get involved in a few exchanges between themselves only, and JJ glances at her with eyebrows raised in question. 

  She nods, with a smile, and feels her hand squeezed. 

    ★

JJ asks her if she wants to go for a walk once Kiara’s parents have retreated from the kitchen. Both he and Kiara have offered to help out with the cleaning, but Anna was adamant that they don’t, so there was quite literally nothing else to do. 

  Outside, the air is chilly. Kildare island smells of the sea, wherever you go, and Kiara often thinks she could never be away from the sea. It’s the one thing she associates with home – the distinct smell of salt mixed with oak trees and freshly mowed grass, occasional bonfire and barbecue. 

  That is what comes to mind when someone says home. She isn’t much of a person who ties herself to places or people as her anchors, but memories are where she finds herself dwelling. Memories and experiences. 

  This part of the island is quiet. Her and JJ’s steps on the gravel path are the only thing she can hear that isn’t animals, really. It’s calming and terrifying, to not hear children playing outside even so late at night, like she always hears when she’s on her way home from the Chateau. 

  ‘What’re you thinking about?’

  Kiara glances at JJ, shaking her head a little, smiling a little more. ‘Everything,’ she says. ‘This is going to sound stupid, but I think I’m starting to appreciate what I’ve got. Friends, family, work, all the memories I’ve made here… It’ll be difficult to let go of it someday.’

  JJ chuckles, dryly, but doesn’t say anything. His footsteps fall into the same rhythm as her and he edges just a little bit closer. ‘Do you often think about leaving?’

  His voice is curious, but it’s low and slow in a way that’s making her wonder if there’s more behind the question. He doesn’t look at her when he asks it – he’s looking forward instead, eyebrows a little furrowed and shoulders hunched. 

  ‘Sometimes,’ admits Kiara. ‘I think about college, and sometimes about what happens after. I always thought I’d go out there, travel the world, try to save as much of it as I can, but I don’t know anymore. There’s people who need help here, too. People I see every day.’ She pauses, glancing at him. ‘Recently, I’ve been thinking that maybe I’d come back here after college.’

  JJ nods without a word.

  She doesn’t think about him when she mentions the people who could use her help, and she wants to backtrack on that statement, but it feels like the deed is done. There’s only hoping he understands she doesn’t see him as someone needing fixing. 

  ‘You think you’d stay?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve got some time to decide.’ Kiara glances at him again and this time, he’s got an expression on his face that she can’t read. He’s thinking about something, she can tell, but beyond that he’s a mystery. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m leaving.’ His voice is sharp and deadpan, no thinking behind it. ‘As soon as I’ve got high school sorted, I’m out.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  JJ nods. ‘You’re going to be at college or travelling the world. Pope is going to be a big shot somewhere far away from here, where he can actually have a future. John B and Sarah are going to do whatever floats their boat, but considering their Romeo and Juliet status here, they won’t stick around, either. There’ll be nothing keeping me here.’

  no friends, no family, no future, Kiara understands. Her stomach churns at the realisation that unlike her, JJ didn’t spend a moment thinking about his answer. He’d had it prepared – he’d thought of it enough times to know it by heart. 

  They walk in silence, because what do you say when you realise your relationship with the person next to you has an expiration date and it’s approaching at a rapid speed?

  It was supposed to be a good evening. 

  Kiara wants to bump shoulders with him, brush his hand, give him any sign that would say i’m not gone yet, yet all she does is wrap her arms around herself. ‘You know we’re always going to be a team, right? The pogues are for life.’

  He chuckles, shaking his head. ‘Nah, that’s just a dream. We’re all going to move on, someday.’

  ‘Is that how you see us?’

  JJ looks at her and she has never, in her entire life, seen him so certain. ‘That’s the way it is.’

  They reach the end of the path and looking around saves Kiara from showing her reaction. She leads them toward the beach, through the trees with only the moon to shine their way, and hopes he won’t try to see her face in the darkness. 

  With her chest getting heavy and eyes teary, Kiara shoves those emotions in the back of her mind. 

  the pogues are forever, she thinks, even if i have to make you realise that.

  The tension between them isn’t like usual. It’s heavy with things they aren’t saying, loaded with emotions they’re both trying to hide; it’s a line there’s no uncrossing. 

  ‘Kie.’ JJ’s hand catches her arm and he waits until she turns to face him. ‘I didn’t mean to sound like I don’t care about you. I just—’ he stops himself and shakes his head, letting his hand fall to his side. ‘I don’t want to be disappointed. I need to keep myself in check. If I’m wrong, I’d – fuck, I’d give anything to be wrong about this.’

  She steps closer to him, wondering if her face is a book he can read word for word. Her hands longs to touch his, to give him the physical support she knows he needs, but she doesn’t let it. 

  Instead, she puts on what she hopes is a reassuring smile, and blinks the emotions away. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a little hope.’

  ‘I can’t afford hope,’ he states. 

  ‘JJ—’

  ‘It’s okay.’ He takes a step back and Kiara feels the space between them like a blow to her chest. ‘We’re just kids, Kie. We’re not meant to be forever, or some shit like that. Hell, there’s shit about me that you wouldn’t even like if you knew. Right in front of your eyes and I’m pretending—’

  ‘Tell me, then,’ Kiara cuts him off. ‘I bet I’ll know it already.’

  He closes the same distance he’d previously put between them and they’re almost chest to chest, almost close enough for her to feel his breath on her lips. 

  JJ has fire in his eyes, one that one he knows why it’s burning. ‘The kooks, I— I’m a hypocrite, Kie. I say I hate them when I really envy how fucking easy they have it. How one night with them when they think I’m one of them gives me more opportunities than I’ve had in the entire seventeen years of my life.’

  ‘That’s what this is about? Midsummers?’

  Something shuts in him and he steps away, further than before, walking towards the beach. Kiara catches up, falling in step with him. She doesn’t want him to run away from her and she isn’t going to let him. 

  ‘JJ, you can’t just do this.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ He doesn’t stop walking, or slow down, and his strides are bigger than hers. 

  ‘Let me try.’

  He shakes his head; Kiara sees his fists curled as they swing at his sides, and reaches for one of them. The way his hand relaxes in his is instantaneous and instinctive, as if he were ice and she were fire. 

  JJ’s steps slow until they come to a halt. He leans his back against a tree without letting go of her hand; when he faces her, his eyes glimmer in the darkness. 

  ‘They kept mentioning my dad, and how good he’s always been with boats,’ he tells her. His voice begins rushed but calms to a steady pace, almost as if the words are hurting as they come out. ‘Then they started asking me questions about their boats, and I could guess what might be wrong with them and they thought it was amazing. They thought I had a gift.’ He pauses for a second; she hears him swallow. ‘In reality, I learnt boats because my dad would beat me if I didn’t recognise a boat he was fixing. I had to know all that shit because if I didn’t remember the horsepower, no one did, because he sure as hell couldn’t.’

  A shiver runs down her spine. JJ’s voice is distant but pained and she recognises it all too well. She doesn’t know what to say, so she gives his hand a squeeze and steps a little closer, enough to hold him if he needs her to. 

  He’s looking right through her. ‘I know boats because I had to. I always thought it was a curse, a burden, whatever. But they…’ JJ pauses, shakes his head, composes himself. ‘They saw someone who understands their boats like no one else. They gave me contacts of people who could use my expertise, offered me more jobs than I could take. And I saw my way out. I saw myself as one of them, eventually, with a nice three-piece, a fancy house, and someone else to take care of my shit.’

  Kiara’s eyes stare at his, waiting for them to come back into focus. He’s warm and trembling, and their hands are beginning to sweat, but she doesn’t let go. She watches him, his chest heaving, and waits for him to come back to her. 

  His thumb brushes her knuckles. JJ rests his head against the tree trunk, too, and closes his eyes for a few moments. 

  Now she understands why she recognised the way he’s been acting since they started the conversation – it’s the same distant, almost ethereal way he held himself that night during Midsummers, when he brought her out to the ocean. 

  Now there’s no waves to drown the silence. 

  ‘I hate it,’ he whispers. ‘I hate how much I liked their attention. I hate that I’ve been exchanging messages and emails and calls with some of them, arranging how I’d come take a look at their boats and yachts and whatever shit they’ve got parked in their private harbours.’

  ‘That’s not a bad thing,’ Kiara tells him, her voice hoarse. His eyes flutter then open, not seeing through her anymore. ‘I know you, JJ. I know why you’re saying this, and I get it. But you don’t have to hold onto those grudges anymore. People are shitty.’

  He laughs, dryly, but Kiara still considers it an improvement from what he was like only moments before. 

  She steps closer to him. ‘You understand boats in a way no one I know does, JJ. It might be because of your dad, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t use it. That it can’t bring you something good.’

  ‘It feels wrong.’

  ‘To want something better for yourself?’

  JJ nods, and Kiara’s heart shatters. ‘JJ, no. You’re not a hypocrite for realising the world doesn’t work the way you thought it does. There’s no good or bad people, right or wrong side of anything. That’s called growing up.’

  ‘Does being a grown up feel shitty?’

  It’s a light attempt at a joke, half-hearted and half-assed, and Kiara gives him a half-smile and a half-chuckle. ‘Yeah, based on everything I’ve heard.’

  ‘Ugh. Can’t wait.’

  Kiara tugs on his hand until he looks at her. She hesitates, for a moment, but then wraps her arms around him and pulls him close. There’s a moment in which she doesn’t know if she overstepped his boundaries, if this is something she shouldn’t have done, but then she feels his hands gentle on her back and she thinks it’s okay, i’ve got you.

  When they part, she ruffles his hair, just like she did before they went down to have dinner with her parents. She does that with a smile and to the question in his eyes, she says, ‘Can’t have you looking too sad.’

  JJ just sighs and pushes himself off the tree. ‘You’re so dramatic, Kie.’

  He gets back on the path and Kiara follows, navigating them through the woods. There’s a spring in his step that she didn’t even notice had been gone for a while, and she doesn’t comment on it. 

  ‘Says the one who just had a monologue that would put Hamlet to shame.’ 

  ‘Please,’ he says, ‘Shakespeare ain’t got nothing on me.’

  Kiara laughs and bumps his shoulder, causing both of them to almost lose balance at the touch. 

  JJ stabilises himself and looks at her. His eyes are wrinkled with mellowness to them, a faint smile tracing his lips. ‘Thanks,’ he says. 

  ‘Anytime. You’re my fake boyfriend, after all.’

  The words make him laugh just as they reach a clearing leading toward the open sea. The moon shines bright high up above them and he speeds up, almost running to water. 

  Kiara wonders if maybe she isn’t the only one who considers a place that makes people feel like this home. 

  JJ takes off his shoes and dips his toes into the water, watching her do the same. ‘You know, if pretending to be your boyfriend means I keep getting delicious food that’s also free, I’m down for doing it whenever. Seriously. This has been the highlight of my summer so far.’

  Stepping into the water until it’s above her ankles, Kiara frowns. 

  So far, this summer, they’ve had a road trip in John B’s van through the whole of North Carolina, thrown a few of the best keggers of their lives, nearly set the entire Chateau on fire amongst many other things. 

  So she just shakes her head in disbelief. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Mhm.’

  JJ’s hand touches the water and throws it in her direction, sprinkling her. She fakes a grunt and then he laughs with ease, with no heaviness in it, and she feels her own chest to be a little lighter, too. 

  Her hands are on his chest, pushing him backwards. ‘Well in that case, Mr. John, I’ve got a gig for you. My mom’s cousin is getting married at the end of August and I desperately need a chaperone.’

  He cocks his head to the side, a grin taking over his face. ‘Then you’ve got yourself one, Miss Kiara.’

  Then he reaches down with both hands and splashes her with water until she’s completely soaked and so is he and they’re laughing, and Kiara thinks that maybe there’s some hope for the pogues left in him, after all.

   ★

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