#but just straight up ignore him/throw a wrench in his plans by doing whatever you want? he’s about to lose his Goddamn Mind

[meteortrails]

key to law’s characterization that he’s the kind of older brother who would stand menacingly in the doorway and say offputting shit when you have your friends over purely just to fuck with you. he’s an absolute unrepentant troll - he LOVES being weird and annoying and confusing. law is the kind of older brother who you cannot fucking stand to fight with bc when things get heated, he just gets outwardly calmer and meaner. he’s near impossible to actually intentionally embarrass or fluster bc he genuinely doesn’t give a shit about most things and if you care enough to try, he’s already pissed you off and therefore won (remember: unrepentant shithead troll). this all of course comes with the caveat that nothing annoys him the way losing the idgaf contest or someone accidentally fucking with his shit does, both of which happen Constantly around the strawhats lmao

[stripperblvd]

Eddie munson x reader

Let’s give him a happy ending. He survived the upside down because fuck those bats, hopper comes back and clears Eddie’s name.

So he’s sitting his finals (or whatever it is to graduate in the USA), and his thoughts are how this seems harder than the upside down.

BUT HE GRADUATES - The reader sitting in the audience with Dustin and who ever else just screaming and cheering when he gets his diploma. (Now just picturing him with that graduation hat on - would it fit over his hair?!?)

Warnings: ST4 VOL 2 SPOILERS: slight gore bc of those damned bats, some angst but all happy endings. Word Count: 3.8k

Note: This boy is the absolute purpose of my existence. I didn’t think metalheads could get any cuter and then bam, Eddie Munson.

A painful yell leaves your lips as you watch the love of your life fall on his back, those pesky rabid bats circling above him before one plunges at his side, tearing his soft milky flesh, coating it in a stream of blood. You ignore Dustin’s warnings, blood pumping with rage as you instruct him to stay, get another rope for your return and charge straight into the place where your boyfriend is currently being attacked. Your eyes are running with tears, throat sore with all the screaming you’ve been doing. The boy that you had seen playing guitar, in honor of the fallen, innocent cheerleader you both had met prior to her death, was now laying in a growing pool of his own blood, wrenching your heart as you heard how desperately he needed you.

“Y/N!” your name falling from his lips, a scared look engulfing his once beautiful face. All you could see was that same frightened young man, who looked to you for help, for protection, for love, warmth and care. Your hand reaching for the vodka bottle you had forced Nancy to let you keep, thanking your instincts for preparing for the worst. The venom in your body spurting even more as you reach for your lighter, allowing the orange flame to grow into a much larger one by engulfing the cloth at the bottle’s neck. However your plan isn't to throw the now lit bottle, choosing instead to set it back down for a second, grabbing a second cylinder from your bag, your enormous pepper spray can. “GET READY MOTHERFUCKERS” you seethe, once more lighting the small lighter and spraying your canister directly behind it.

You can barely see your bleeding partner, two large gashes on his stomach and scratches all over. The flame created by the two items in your hand burning your eyes and nostrils, the putrid smell of burnt pepper spray and liquor surrounding you. But it works, the bats flying so fast that way over half of them are burning in mid air, screeching and batting away trying to relieve their crisp skin. Many are now flinging themselves at the ground. Twisting and writhing in horror at what you’ve just done to them. “NO!” your ears catch the weak warning of your boyfriend as you watch the remaining bats now swarming towards you, their noises so shrill that your ears are damn near bleeding. “Not today bitches.” you spit at them, grabbing the now burning bottle and ignoring the way your hand twitches at the pain from the heat.

Your eyes are set, waiting for the bats to get close enough for your last move. Your heart cries with Eddie as he tells you to run, to save yourself. Trying his hardest to get the attention from the bats back on him. But you wait, ready to bait. The group of bats has to be under 50, your shot has to be perfect if you want it to work. “Come get it you bastards! COME ON” you’ve never been known to seek violence out so much. But your heart was fueled by revenge, the need to protect Eddie, a hatred was deep inside you, and it went against all harm towards him. You ears are deaf, your gaze focused, and as you grab the bat from your side, you throw the bottle up in the air, crushing it to bits as you swing the wooden object in your hand, the weigh almost featherlight as it blasts right through the liquor, sending the rest of the bats into a frenzy to avoid getting burned and failing miserably.

You finally let the breath of subconscious concentration out, not noticing how long you had been holding it for. Instead you race towards Eddie, his long body weak and heavy on the cold ground, his shirt covered in blood and his mouth dripping some as well. It hurts to see him like this, thinking back to just last week, when you were back in his trailer, in the comfort of his bed, his unruly black curls were spread out on your chest, tickling your neck as he lay on you, humming softly, those big round brown eyes drifting in and out of consciousness. You remember the words exchanged between the two of you as you fell to your knees, cradling his trembling body on your lap.

“You can’t leave Y/n” he whispered softly, eliciting a little grin from you. “It’s almost 2 in the morning baby boy, I wouldn't even if I wanted to.” you sigh, looking down to the precious scene before you. You watch his curls bounce slightly as he shakes his head. “I mean it, never ever, you can’t leave me because I don’t know what to do without you. I’m less than nobody if you’re not here.” that beautiful soft tired voice sounds out. You frown, knowing this was one of those nights where Eddie needed more love, his insecurities sometimes getting the best of him even if he was right here as he was, practically clinging on to you like a lost child.

“I’m never leaving you baby.”

“I’m not leaving you, I'm not, breathe baby breathe, I’m right here.” You tilt his head slightly, making sure he’s not choking on any blood that could bubble up from his throat. You can tell his body is shutting down, going into shock from the loss of blood, the heat draining slowly from his body as his skin goes paler than usual, looking almost blue. He’s crying, wishing you’d leave, wanting to tell you that he’s not worth it, to save yourself because he knows his time is over. “Please..” his voice is weak, heart breaking as he watches your own eyes flooding with salty tears. You can barely see into his trailer, but you can see the door wide open, a new makeshift rope is hanging from the ripped opening that hangs from the trailer's roof top and a limping Dustin trying his best to carry a ladder into the small home. Your peripherals catch a glimpse of three running figures, heart blazing. You still have time, you can make it.

“No, now you listen to me Edward Munson, you’re going to stop this behavior right now. Listen to me! Keep your eyes open baby, we can still make it, you understand me? I’m gonna get you help my love,you're going to be okay. I promise but you need to help me so I can help you sweetheart. All I need you to do is just-” your voice was drowned out, Eddie only nodding before going unconscious, the pain becoming too much for him to bear.

-

You sit softly right beside the gray colored bed. Groaning softly as your back slowly becomes sore at the new movement. You open the can of Vaseline that’s in your hands, dipping your finger into the oily substance and gathering a small pebble of it. You close the can again, careful to not let it make too much noise as you set it back down on the small stand right next to the bed. You reach towards the covers, gently grabbing Eddie’s hand and guiding it so that it’s closer to you. You begin to rub the substance on his wrists, gently massaging the skin that had been scratched by the metal handcuffs that Hawkins PD had placed on him even before he got a chance to be looked after. Whenever you’re not receiving treatment for the amount of fumes in your body, to which you credit to “a bunch of cans lighting on fire by accident.”, you’re here with Eddie, making sure he's being taken care of.

The only difference today, even a week after everything that happened was that you finally got to see those adorable brown eyes open. You let out a broken sigh, making sure to cup his face so he knows where to focus. “Hi baby.” you sob, letting your emotions take over you. Overwhelmed with the assurance that Eddie was safe. Alive. He was here and he was okay.

“Y/N” his voice is raspy, drawing a small broken laugh from you as your mind races back to all those mornings that he woke up with you, that same voice greeting you every time. “What happened?” he asks, intently watching you lift yourself from the chair, sitting at the edge of the bed to have better access to his face. He was met with many small kisses, your lips pressing all over his face and hair, letting him bask in your adoration before you filled him in. He mustered the strength to lift his arms, lazily laying them on your back and thigh as you lips met, a soft but passionate kiss reciprocated from both of you.

“ You passed out, Nancy said your wounds weren’t very deep but the blood loss was making you weak. Harrington and his friend, that Robin girl, carried you into the trailer. We got you strapped to a backpack and clipped that to another rope on this side to pull you from where you were. We drove you here from the trailer and those dumbass officers tried to put you under arrest. But Hopper helped you out,” you explain, stroking his cheek and forehead with your thumbs lovingly. You spoke softly, letting him process everything. He nodded, frowning a little as he spoke up. “Who’s Hopper?” a small look of confusion set in his face as he tilted his head, your heart exploding with how cute he looked. You smile at his antics, “Do you remember that magic girl? Her dad, the old grumpy sheriff of the town, remember? He supposedly died when the mall thing went down. But, with a little evidence from the Sinclairs and Nancy, they found out Jason cheated on our little Chrissy, so they just went public with a story.” You paused, again letting him take it all in, especially the part about Chrissy’s shitty boyfriend, knowing exactly how he was feeling. Because it was the same anger that had overtaken you when you found out.

“So what's the story now?” Eddie frowned, surprisingly enough keeping up with everything he was being told. “Well, supposedly Jason was paranoid that Chrissy found out, thinking she cheated with you. He hunted us three down, then when he found out Nancy’s friend was the one who took the picture he went after him too. They’re pinning his friend’s death on him as well, along with kidnapping and attempted murder for Red, assualt for the Sinclairs, and his other jock strap is getting like 18 months for assault of a minor for Erica. ” You laughed, thinking how believable the whole story was, knowing it would probably still be twisted to make Jason look like a lost soul. But before Eddie could once again respond to you, a small man, wearing a gray suit and carrying a thin folder of papers walked in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt Mister Munson, but I come from the Hawkins board of education, if you could spare a minute?” His voice was soft but stern, looking intently at Eddie who in turn looked like a deer in headlights. “Y-Yeah su-sure” he stuttered , trying to sit up and being met with your frown and a shake from the man before him. “That won’t be needed, I’m simply here to let you know that, in light of the current events, the Hawkins High committee has agreed to, if you’d like, and are able to, schedule you for a year concentration final. If you’re able to pass the test on these subjects,” he pauses to hand you the folder, one that you now know contains the key points to graduate for every class. “ You will be awarded your high school diploma, with a B average transcript and of course, walk the stage in a few weeks to graduate with the class of 86’. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Hawkins would never make up all the cruelties they subjected Eddie through, but this sure was one hell of a way to start. You thought of all the possibilities, an idiotic smile plastered on your face as you look back at your boyfriend, who’s mouth is wide agape.

“Y-Yes! That’d be awesome.” he sputters, not knowing what else to say, mentally slapping himself for sounding so…him. The man grins, clapping his hands together, “Very well, I’ll let the school know, please be advised that the test is going to take place on the morning of wednesday June 11th at 11 am sharp, it’s recommended to arrive 15 minutes earlier to prepare for the test itself. Have a good one, the board wishes you a very speedy recovery.” the man walks out, leaving both of you speechless as you squeal, and wrap your arms around your boyfriend's head. You can feel his smile, his face pressed awkwardly against your boobs but you’re too excited to care. You finally pull away, almost crying at the gorgeous smile he wears. “I’ll help you study, yeah? Everything is going to be okay, love, I promise.”

Study you did, and as the morning of the 11th started to lift, the quiet rumble of Eddie’s van appeared in the Hawkins High parking lot, students and staff alike watching as you step quickly out of the car and circle the other way. Your arms open the back passengers door as you reach for the pair of long crutches and pull them out. You spot a familiar figure, the short cap clad boy running towards you. “Need a hand?” Dustin smile’s, his face lighting up at the sight of you. You smile back at him, nodding, “Yeah just hold these for me while I help Eddie out.” you chime, handing the abnormally long crutches to the boy, comically cursing your boyfriends lanky stature. Speaking of which, the door opens to reveal a smiling Eddie, who wraps an arm around your shoulders to support himself while he gets out. “Henderson!”

“Heyyy!” The two boys greet each other, Dustin helping Eddie with his crutches while you close the door behind him. He walks with you two to the office, having to slow down significantly to be sure to keep pace with Eddie, who all though was making a steady recovery, still was disadvantaged by the healing wounds on his abdomen, the bandages showing slightly when he raised his crutches to walk. Once more the stares of guilt and almost sadness followed you three, fortunately ending when you walked into the office.

“Says here you’re an “allowed attendant” what in god’s name is that?” the secretary questions, seemingly still as nonchalant to the events that have transpired. “Means I can stay in the room with him, only to supervise him medically, make sure his bandages don’t soak through or that he’s not in discomfort.” she sighs, muttering an okay and giving you a signed visitors pass to present to the teacher administering Eddie’s test.

You wave Dustin goodbye, and walk Eddie into the room where Mr. Tassel and Ms. Dennis are waiting. You give them your stamped visitors pass and they instruct you where to sit, Ms, Dennis taking a seat where she can see you both to make sure Eddie doesn’t receive any extra help other than the state issued keys given to the students. You can't help but feel annoyed once more at the stares as the current seniors walk in, some stopping mid conversation to direct wide eyes at your boyfriend, other starting conversations, likely about the two of you.

The test seems to drag on, luckily Mr. T is nice enough to lend you a book, allowing you to kill time by reading about the different plants that are used medicinally. Occasionally you’ll turn to Eddie, making sure he’s not fiddling with the bandages on his stomach, an incredibly bad habit that he picked up in the hospital when he was bored. Instead you were met with the cutest little face of concentration, his eyes squinted at the paper in front of him, his lips slightly opened to let his tongue stick out in an adorable manner. You watched his pencil scribble an answer that he was satisfied with, before turning the page over to one of the last questions in the packet. Eddie’s mind was filled with a mix of stress, confidence and nerves. He thought back to all the time he spent in the upside down, thinking it surely was nothing compared to what was presented to him on this page. How the fuck was he supposed to remember the name of the guy who splattered JFK?? What do you MEAN find x? All these thoughts ran around his head making it slightly harder to remember everything you had studied with him, but nonetheless he powered through, wanting to make you and everyone else proud.

-

The day had finally come, you watched your lanky boyfriend in the mirror, finishing the last touches of his hat before turning to him. “Here, this should make it easier to rest on that big ass head of yours.” you laughed, so deeply entertained by the look he gave you. “Babeee, my head isn’t big it’s just my hair.” he whined, pouting at you until you got the memo, bending slightly to meet your lips with his. He smiled into your lips, cupping your jaw to deepen the sweet embrace. Another whine left his lips when he felt yours parting, standing up fully to help him up. His recovery was solid, but his abdomen was still sensitive meaning he had to still be mindful of how he sat, stood, laid. You had resolved to simply laying him on your stomach every night, making sure your legs wrapped around him enough to prevent him from moving around. Your happiness still through the roof, ever since the monday after Eddie’s test, when you received the word that he had passed his final with a 79 out of 100, giving room to bump his overall score to a solid B-

You sat in the sunny pastures of the football field, with you was not only Wayne, but the Hellfire club, the Wheelers and the Hawkins alumni that had a hand in helping you save your boy from the upside down. Your party alone takes up several seats, your excitement barely able to contain itself as you admire how many people showed up for Eddie, your Eddie. Karen and Nancy quickly shush everyone when the ceremony started, a small moment of silence in honor of all the students that had lost their lives this year. A small tear left your eyes as the principal mentions Chrissy, your heart breaking for the poor girl. You and Eddie might’ve not known her long at all, but in your hearts you knew the poor thing deserved better, better than her boyfriend, better than her torments, and better than her untimely death.

You watch as file after file of students are called up, small cheers and claps held for everyone that is presented with their emerald green folder, indicating their successful completion of high school. Your leg speeds up as you see a big fluff of black curls stand up, walking happily along with his line. The anticipation kills you, watching as Eddie takes his place at the very end of the tail leading to the stage, meaning he would be the very last of the M names to be announced. The party’s overwhelming excitement was starting to show in everyone’s face, each and every single person ready to jump up at the very mere thought that Eddie’s name would be announced.

“And finally, Edward Mun-” the principal’s projected voice is cut off by an enormous uproar. Your feet jump up as your tears spill across your face, Eddie’s surprised yet grinning stare pulls at your heart as you watch him stop for a second, diploma in his hands, and his eyes set on the group of people that cheered just for him. You can hear Dustin’s “hell yeah”’, the clapping of Nancy, Steve and Robin, the whistle of Mr. Wheeler as his wife swats his shoulder, urging him to keep some composure. And at last your brain registers an arm draped across your shoulders, THE Wayne Munson, silently crying by your side, exploding with pride at his newly graduated nephew.

You catch a glimpse of the staff’s frowns, your 5 seconds of roars now calm as you all sit back down, the principal furring his eyebrows as he continues onto the next set of last names. You smirk at the teachers, knowing that Eddie is just as happy to leave this hell hole as they are to see him go.

The ceremony finally finishes, teary teenagers hugging each other, knowing they won’t see most of these faces in the next few months. But for you, you can’t help running up to your boyfriend, engulfing him in your arms, more cries spilling from your eyes as you guide him towards the group of people waiting for them. His eyes twinkle with their own small drops of tears as he gets swarmed by Hellfire, the boys cheering happily as their Dungeon Master holds his diploma up. He reaches over to Erica, giving her a high five and breaks away from the group to step towards Wayne, who’s yet again trying to hide his red cheeks and watery eyelids. They embrace, and you hear Wayne as he speaks to his nephew, “So damn proud of ya boy.”

Nancy, Steve and Robin are the next in line, Nancy and Robin handing him a gift wrapped in paper that's decorated with small little flames and guitars. You roll your eyes as Steve and Eddie clap hands, “bro hugging” and laughing as Eddie ruffles Steve’s hair, claiming that to be Eddie’s present from him. Lastly, Eddie is approached by the Wheeler parents, shaking hands with both of them before being told to head over to theirs for a small gathering.

“All of this for me?” Eddie turns to you, hugging you so that no one notices how he’s slowly losing his composure, overwhelmed with how loved and appreciated he feels right now. He’s never had this, not outside you and his uncle, and no one except you would ever know how much this truly meant to Eddie, even if it was just a small barbecue, with a crooked “congrats eddie” banner, a homemade cake courtesy of Dustin’s mom and some small gifts in a little basket in the corner of the food table. Even if it was still that, it was his, it was all for him. Everyone here was celebrating him, there weren't any stares and whispers like in the ceremony, no hurtful remarks, no one was calling him a freak, a weirdo, useless. Every person that approached him came with a smile, a handshake, and words of encouragement. “All for you baby, you deserve this.”

You hug him tight, pulling apart for a sweet kiss that, unbeknownst to you, Nancy captures with a beautiful photograph.

I had way too much fun with this request, this alone is 7 google doc pages, and damn near 4 THOUSAND words, likely the longest fic I’ve written to date that wasn’t a series!

7-2-22

[warriorgardener]

March 8th

Shi Qinxguan had a brilliant, perfect plan. Being the star socialite of her university made it all too easy. All she had to do was throw an amazing party, invite absolutely everyone, and lay in wait for the hot goth guy in her classic-literature-or-whatever class to show up. She’d reel him in like a fish, and not a very big one at that! Any guy on campus would be lucky to have her attention and she was not above a little charity work when an unappreciated specimen of handsomeness fell within her sphere of influence.

Besides, the two of them used to be such good friends when they were little. It wasn’t Shi Qingxuan’s fault that her brother suddenly changed jobs and uprooted her entire life, put her in a fancy private school, and finally sent her to a prestigious college halfway across the country! What was a few years between besties with matching friendship necklaces? And how was it supposed to be her fault? Just how long did Ming-xiong intend to ignore her? Didn’t he understand the power they could have as two ten-out-of-ten pretty best friends?

Shi Qingxuan huffed as she laid out elaborate traps across her living room—potato chips with a selection of dips, a cheeseboard, chocolate fondue. Did Ming-xiong still like goldfish crackers or was that too juvenile? Just in case, she had several boxes. Pizza was on the way and there was enough alcohol in the house for the party to last two days straight! Which it would absolutely not, as she still needed her beauty sleep.

So much time and effort had gone into pulling off the perfect party that Shi Qingxuan managed to forget her original objective. Taylor Swift blasted from the speakers. She half-danced, half-mingled her way around, freshening conversations, making introductions, and having a wonderful time. She was on her way to rescue Xie Lian from the tall, standoffish art major wearing red letterman jacket who practically had him cornered when a shadow flitted at the periphery of her vision. She stopped so suddenly that the fun, fizzy drink in her cup almost sloshed over her hand.

Tiptoeing as if to sneak up on a stray animal, she peered into the kitchen. A tall, lanky figure leaned against the counter, completely alone. In one hand was a loaded plate and in the other, a rapidly shrinking slice of pizza. Despite the hood pulled low over his head, Shi Qingxuan’s heart lifted in immediate recognization.

“Ming-xiong!”

From beneath messy bangs in need of a trim, a sharp gaze fixed on her with glowering resentment. He Xuan set down the plate, unhurriedly dusted the crumbs off his hands, and moved to walk past her right out the door. Shi Qingxuan threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug, not minding that she was being dragged along with him.

“Ming-xiong, you came! I knew you would!”

“I was hungry.”

“I know. I was watching. You can eat a slice of pizza in three bites now. Just imagine how many other things we have to catch up on!”

He Xuan pried the hands from around his neck. “Forget it. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Why not?” Shi Qingxuan’s wrists started to hurt when he began to squeeze.

“You know why.”

“Why would I ask a question that I already know the answer to? That’s so dumb. I’m literally not dumb. I get B’s in all my classes. Ow ow ow—Ming Xiooooooooong, it hurts!”

He walked her backwards until she was pushed against the counter. Finally, Shi Qingxuan wrenched her hands away, shooting him a spiteful look. He planted a hand to each side of her instead, blocking her in. His dark, embittered gaze forced her attention away from her reddened wrists.

“You left.”

She stomped her foot. “I was ten!”

He scoffed, wordlessly rejecting her excuse.

“I wrote you letters all the time because you didn’t have a phone or even an email. What else was I supposed to do, hop on a train and come banging on your door because you never replied?”

He Xuan remained silent this time.

Shi Qingxuan did not understand it, but she sensed that she was gaining the upper hand somehow and immediately crossed her arms in a judgmental stance. “What, you never thought of that?”

“I didn’t receive any letters.”

“I wrote like ten billion! Or…at least twelve.”

His expression darkened. “How did you send them?”

“There’s no way I got the address wrong either. You were right next door—“

“I said how?”

“I gave them to my brother to take to the post office, duh.”

He Xuan laughed, though it was cold and fleeting, as if the joke were at his own expense. “I see. Oh, I understand now. So it was never your fault then. Just your perfect older brother’s.”

“Why are you so obsessed with whose fault it is? I threw you a party, Ming-xiong. I wanted you to come just so we could make up.” Shi Qingxuan grabbed his white-knuckled hand and held it between her own. “I’ve missed you.”

The music and the laughter of the party carried on around them, indistinct and out of place.

“Forget it,” He Xuan said. It was the second time he said that tonight, but this time he only sounded tired. “It’s been too long. It doesn’t matter, and…we have nothing in common anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Shi Qingxuan said earnestly. Tears filled her eyes without warning. No matter how tightly she held his hand, it seemed that He Xuan was trying to tell her goodbye once and for all. “We’re both very good-looking. And…we both go to planet literature class.”

“World literature,” He Xuan sighed, more tired than ever. “Not planet literature.”

“You’re still nitpicky!” Shi Qingxuan threw down his hand. “You haven’t changed at all, actually! Ming-xiong, don’t you dare—“

He leaned in close so suddenly that she was shocked into wide-eyed silence. She could have sworn He Xuan had been looking at her lips (did she have something in her teeth during this whole dramatic episode?!), but instead he turned his face against her hair and…breathed in.

“You smell different.”

Shi Qingxuan had not mistaken it. He Xuan had actually sniffed her. This was too weird to accuse him of in the moment, but she would definitely devote a diary page to it later.

“Ming-xiong,” she said delicately, as if she had not just been sniffed. “I use these things called ‘hair products’ now. I wear perfume. It’s been almost a decade, of course I smell different. I also look different, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“No, it’s not that.” He Xuan moved his head down. This time he cupped the other side of her neck, bringing her in close to inhale the crook of her shoulder. “Something’s different.”

The shiver than ran through Shi Qingxuan from head to toe made her knees feel like jelly. She was so close to passing out that she did not even bother to argue this time.

“Are you quite finished?” she squeaked.

He Xuan pulled away and had the audacity to look bored. He picked up the plate on the counter. “Guess so. See you Monday.”

He walked out before Shi Qingxuan could decipher his words. Before she even caught up to the idea that hey, he was leaving! How dare he! But then the meaning of those words finally kicked in: planet literature! He said they would see each other in the class where they did see each other! In other words…He Xuan was no longer ignoring her.

Shi Qingxuan sank to the kitchen floor and covered her face with her hands. Her cheeks felt like they were burning off. Why was it that her neck still tingled where He Xuan had pressed his face? Was she actually allergic to him? That’s it, if He Xuan gave her hives, they were no longer best friends!

For the first time in her life, Shi Qingxuan couldn’t wait for a Monday morning. She was going to touch He Xuan until she was absolutely positive she wasn’t allergic, and then—and then she might just have to kiss him to be extra sure.

[fandom-monium]

I JUST READ KITCHEN CATASTROPHES OMG ITS SOOO CUTE UGH MY HEART SO SOFT CAN YOU PLSSS DO A PART 2? THANK YOU KEEP DOING WHAT YOU DO

AN: thank you, anon! i dont plan to make a sequel to KC. But if i did:

For Valentine’s Day

Summary: In which you throw a wrench in Spencer’s plans: you don’t like Valentine’s Day. “If it’s with you, I guess it’s not so bad.”

WC: 2.9k (whoops)

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, semi anti-valentines day, Spencer tears up but dont worry were there to fix that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, post-For the Holidays

Fuck cooking, Spencer thinks one day.

It's an irrational thought. The kind that strikes through his mind in a flash of irritation like a scrape of the knee as he is perusing the internet. Yes, he is using a computer willingly. He has to because he's desperate.

Cooking is stupid. Who really needs it, right?

…

He needs it. God, he needs it so bad.

His need to learn cooking wasn't as incessant until recently. Until you came along.

Spencer is a meticulous person and a romantic if you'd ever met one. Makes sense considering how he grew up, reading the classics and all that. He's read all the gooey literary shit old people write and while he never understood those meanings it all dawned on him one day. Quotes written like 'the stars in their eyes' and 'sunshine glowing off them like a halo', suddenly makes sense once he meets you. Or at least, after coming to know you, months into your newfound friendship.

It's because of this he plans accordingly the weeks leading up to Valentine's day! Because again he's meticulous and a romantic and a genius so he plans every step and makes a back up plan in case A, B, and C fall through.

Is he going overboard? 

… Nah. No way. Not when it comes to you.

But fuck with a capital F, man.

It's your third date. Or what is supposed to be your third date if you would just stop being you for a second.

Then again, he loves you a lot and he wouldn't love you if you weren't, well, you.

Although—pardon his french—what the fuck. 

Spencer knows he needs to learn to cook. You've tried plenty of times to teach him and he loves learning and he especially loves it when you are the teacher (wait, does he have a teacher/student fantasy? Maybe. That’s something he'll look into later. Preferably with you). 

Unfortunately, he's terrible at it.

He's made progress and he knows it's true because you said so but the miniscule progress he's made is. Not. Enough. And it's all your fault! Because he gets so distracted by you during your lessons, like when you put your hands over his to show him proper slicing techniques—holy fuck, he wanted to combust right there—or just watching your deft hands at work, lips and brow scrunched in concentration in that adorable way. And you smell like cooking oil or whatever you're making and you're hot.

He's so into you it physically hurts. Ugh. How is he so lucky? 

You're also the first person he's been this into since Maeve. And everyone knows how well that turned out.

So he tries to dial it down for Valentine’s Day. Morgan told him once he tends to throw himself into everything he does, including love. And when you two got together, he promised the universe he will not fuck this up. He ends up combining Morgan’s advice with Luke’s, trying to be casual like Luke says because apparently you're just as into him as he is of you. 

The thought makes him grin uncontrollably. Luke says it makes him look like a clown but a lovesick clown. A lovefool, Luke hehs.

Spencer doesn’t get the joke, but it does nothing to deter him.

As Luke advised, Spencer does “not” make a dozen back up plans and does “not" plan weeks in advance. Because that wouldn't be casual, would it?

But now the day’s come and as Valentine’s Day turns to Valentine’s Night, Spencer wants to pull his hair, rub his frustratedly stinging eyes but he can't because he's in the middle of work, in the middle of the bullpen, in the middle of his desk and he refuses to be that guy. Not again.

Why does he feel like sobbing? Like a loser? 

Because you don't like Valentine’s Day. No, you abhor it.

It happens in the middle of the work day. It's like he tried to open a door only for a bucket of ice water to be dumped on him and now he looks like a drowned rat. He definitely feels like one.

You're talking with Garcia about her Valentine’s Day plans as you multitask, switching between putting together packets and stacking them aside. Then taking them under the hole-puncher and stapling them together because the BAU isn't all kicking down doors and catching freaks. 

It makes sense that you’re chatting with Garcia during your break. The two of you have become two peas in a pod after you came out of your shell. Now you're inseparable. Only you make Garcia leave her batcave as much as she does now.

Out of sight, he catches tidbits of your conversation when he hears distinctively: Fuck Valentine’s Day.

Okay, you didn't say that verbatim but you might as well have, grimacing as you three hole-punch a packet and his heart. Then a nail on his coffin only it’s with a stapler. 

Thump. Chick.

Spencer winces; there goes your his Valentine’s Day plans. 

It shouldn't sting as much as it does. You've been dating for over a month and Valentine’s Day is definitely not his favorite holiday either. It's not even top 3. And as you rant he can’t help but silently nod in agreement, all the facts straight: yes, it's an eyesore. Yes, it's a capitalistic holiday. Yes, people should do nice things for their significant others no matter the time and not because it's expected on a specific day. Yes, it doesn't compare to Halloween—

The thing is, you two aren't that “couple-y”, at least in a traditional sense. Not like Will and JJ who got a babysitter so they could go out or like Luke and Garcia as they plan to go to a special Valentine’s Day event she wants to check out (she vehemently denies anything going on between them but he doesn't need to be a genius to see the affection they have for one another. Just kiss already, damn).

So yeah, Spencer hoped to spend the romantic holiday with you. For once, he'd have Valentine’s Day plans, aside from exchanging cards with the team and his mother.

But apparently you hate Valentine’s Day! So there goes plan A, B, C, and D!

Spencer feels the tears spring at the corner of his eyes. He sniffs as subtly as he can, raising an open case file to his face. Of all the plans he hadn't thought through this was not one of them. IQ 187, his ass.

He should've known. Or at least ask your thoughts on Valentine’s Day. That was inconsiderate on his part. He blinks back tears, withdrawing into himself despite his hurt because he is a lovefool and only for you. He just wants to impress you, make you happy even if that means canceling your first Valentine’s Day together.

Now if you'll excuse him, he has to call off a few reservations and make some returns. Several actually.

Can you return a dozen donuts in the shape of hearts?

… Yeah, he better ask Emily for the rest of the day off.

—

"Hey Newb, have you seen Spencer? I haven't seen him since his break," You ask, resting your chin in your hand as you squint at another form. Your eyes are beginning to tire. 

Spencer asked you several times over the course of the last week, checking to see if you were free today. You are, so you planned to hang with him after work, but he hasn't returned from his break and he wasn't answering your calls or texts. Not unusual but still odd for your boyfriend (you still can’t believe you get to say that).

Luke sighs, his smooth voice reaching over your shared divider, "You know at some point I'm just not going to respond. You guys can’t call me Newbie forever."

"Keep telling yourself that," You snort without looking up.

Another sigh and you smirk: you win.

"For your information," Luke grumbles, words punctuated with sass, "Doc went home."

You pause. "Home?" He didn't tell you.

"Yeah, probably to get ready for your date."

"Our date?" You frown and stand up, leaning over the divider to see if Luke’s fucking with you.

He isn't. Luke shrugs, humming wistfully as he rests his cheek in his hand, "You should've seen how excited he was, being it your first Valentine's Day and all. I told him to chill out because you'll love whatever it is no matter what but I'm sure he ignored that and planned something spectacular for you guys." Sitting back, he twirls around in his chair.

You grimace, recalling your earlier conversation with Garcia. 

Shit.

"Meanwhile, I have to spend Galentine's Day with Garcia because all the ladies of the BAU are taken and I have nothing better to do—" Luke comes to a full 720, catching the tail end of your coat as you whip it on and make for the door. "—um, excuse you?"

"If Emily asks, I had an emergency!" You manage to call back, throwing open the glass door.

"Okay?"

"Thanks, Newb!"

As the elevator door dings shut with you inside, leg jumping because you have a sneaking suspicion you fucked up, Luke slouches in his chair and grumbles.

He's not a newb. Or a newbie.

—

You rush over to Spencer's, catching your breath as you stumble to his front door. There's shuffling from inside, the faint sound of clanking and crashing and your heart swells because this is the man you’ve fallen for, the first one you've ever felt this way for. Here he is, being all considerate and romantic. And here you are, fucking it up when your relationship’s barely even started.

God, you're an asshole, you berate yourself as you turn the doorknob and push open the door. You're an asshole you're an asshole you’re an asshole—

Then your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack. 

Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth and nose as your favorite scented candles hit you like someone shoved a bouquet in your face. The description isn't too far off considering there's a lovely bouquet of your favorite flowers still in its wrapping, haphazardly set next to a dozen donuts on the coffee table like no one's business. Its petals are strewn across the floor, a few in tiny piles like they were hastily swept to the side. Red and pink and dark green fill your vision.

Who gutted Cupid and tossed his organs around, holy fu-

"(Your name)?"

Startled, you crane your head to find Spencer, beautiful hair askew and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows as he clutches flowers to his chest. In his other hand, he grips the colored strings of several shiny red and pink balloons in the shape of hearts and—fuck—your heart might actually float up from your chest and into your eyes.

This is your man. Your partner. Your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend panics, fumbling for a second before stuffing the balloons and trimmed flowers back into the room behind him and slamming the door shut. He turns back to you, eyes wide.

"What-what are you doing here?" Spencer stammers, wringing his hands together.

You blink at him, dumbly holding up your phone. "You-uh-you left early and didn't return my calls."

"I'm sorry. I think I left my phone at work," Probably because he left in such a rush, Spencer groans, looking anywhere but you. The petals scattered over his floor are quite pretty in this light. "And I was a bit busy."

"I'm sure you were," You gawk openly at the strings of fairy lights hung around his living room. It's a clash of aesthetics. Spencer always rocked dark academia, but despite how ugly the combination of red and pink decorations with his nature green walls and dark wood is, it leaves his apartment a little brighter, a little cozier, and you love it.

You love everything about this.

But as you take in the ugly beauty of it all, Spencer fidgets at the doorway, mistaking your awe as shock and disgust. Wiping sweaty palms on his trousers, his eyes dart around, trying to focus on something, but every place he lays his eyes on makes him cringe. He catches all the things he couldn't clean up or put away in time. No doubt you do too. All the leftover flower petals, the donuts he can’t return, candles that haven’t blown out because he has the lungs of an 8-year old asthmatic. 

Spencer can't imagine how appalled you are.

And the longer your silence stretches on, the more nervous he gets so he blurts out, "I'm so sorry, (Your Name)!"

Your brow shoots up as he begins to ramble.

"You must hate this. I'll put everything away."

"You really don't have to—" You stop him, and your heart nearly crumbles as Spencer's does when he finally meets your worried gaze. 

His eyes gleam with unshed tears. He swallows, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Doc—"

"At least not without asking you—"

"Doctor—"

"I understand if you want to break up—" His voice cracks, as if the idea itself will destroy him (it definitely will). 

"Spencer—" His voice, wobbly and dripping with unnecessary guilt, draws you to him.

"But I want you to know that I—"

With an exasperated sigh, you grab his hand as yours finds the nape of his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. 

For a second, Spencer doesn't respond because who kisses the person they're about to break up with? Strange, really. But then he kisses you back. His hands remain frozen, unsure of where he stands, but he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. He figures this is a new social cue he has yet to learn. And if this is the last time you kiss him, he'll treasure every second of it, take whatever you'll give him because again he's a lovefool for you. 

And when you pull back, he's too dazed he nearly misses the look you give him. Suddenly, he can’t breathe.

You look at him like he hung the stars instead of cheap fairy lights around his apartment. 

Spencer’s confused. "I-I... Wha—"

"I'm not breaking up with you," You chuckle, and you nearly burst out laughing as genuine puzzlement takes over his face. You tug him behind you, plopping yourselves on his couch. You smile, appreciating the way he organized the cushions and throw-pillows; there's now space for two people to lay down.

You take a breath. "You wanna know why I don't like Valentine’s Day?"

Spencer slouches, though his body is angled towards you so you suppose that's good. He sighs, "Because it's a capitalistic holiday that reinforces the idea of doing the bare minimum…"

He begins listing your reasons, and your eyes soften. Of course he listened and remembered even if you mentioned it offhandedly.

You nod once he finishes. "Yes but before that—and I can't believe I'm telling you this—back when I was a little kid, I didn’t get any Valentines."

Spencer's brow furrows at the newfound information. You continue, "I'd get some from my friends and stuff but that's not what Valentine's Day is about. At least not when you're a kid. When you’re a dumb kid, it’s about couples and romantic shit, and I didn't really have any of that growing up." You purse your lips and glance away, face flushed with embarrassment. It's really not that big a deal, but putting it into words makes the idea seem more intimate and personal.

It takes a moment for your words to sink in as Spencer can't believe his ears. How could you not have been showered with love and affection and presents on Valentines Day? It's like water doesn't make things wet or fire doesn't produce heat; it just doesn't make sense. Because you deserve that much and more.

"So every Valentine's Day, I lowered my expectations and eventually I stopped caring. I'd tell myself those things and I started to believe them," You bite your lip, eyes crinkling as you give Spencer a sheepish smile. "But now I have you."

At that, Spencer returns your smile, letting you take his hand. Any tears he had seem to evaporate instantly.

“So, I'm sorry that I hurt you. I stand by what I said before, Valentine’s Day sucks. But if it’s with you,” Blushing deeply, you play with Spencer's hand, large and veins defined compared to yours, shrugging, “I guess it’s not so bad.”

Spencer’s smile broadens, and he intertwines your fingers together. "So what you’re saying is, you don’t hate this?” He looks around his living room.

You shake your head, unable to stop the grin crossing your lips. “No. In fact, very much the opposite. Honestly, thank you for this, it’s beautiful. I have no words.” You breathe it all in; the candles, the flowers, the— Your nose wrinkles and you snort, “Did you burn something?”

Bashfully looking down, he scratches his chin. “I-uh-tried to make your favorite dishes. Though, I was hoping the candles and flowers would mask it.”

You giggle and pull him into you, snuggling into his side. “That’s okay. I’d much rather have you anyway.”

With Spencer a blushing, stuttering mess in your arms, head resting on your chest, you press a kiss to his hair and conclude; yeah, you don’t like Valentine’s Day. 

But you sure as hell love Spencer more.

—

AN:  FtH status: finished - 7/5. yes 7.

I realize this was not what anon requested but oh well i wrote this at 2 am 

I’m not that anti v day but i stand by the capitalistic aspect.

yes this takes place after For the Holidays.

also included luke bc hes my bro and i honestly think he deserves so much more than what the show gave also garvez ftw

happy post valentine’s day!!

Song: Lovefool by The Cardigans

[himaboroshi736]

IronDad fic recs

Here. I’m a french reader, but I’ve read A LOT (like...a lot) of IronDad, so, eventually, here my fic rec. (I tried to class it by categories, but well...) (it’s gonna be very long, guys)

 Peter Parker has anxiety 

Don’t let me get me, by hopeless_hope 

He picks up his phone and sends a quick text. "hey, happy! i’m not feeling too hot today, so i think i’m gonna have to cancel. tell mr. stark i’m sorry!"

He stares at his phone, waiting for a response. It never comes, and Peter sighs sadly. There was a part of him, a small part, that really hoped he was wrong. His insides burn, and he curls up tighter into a ball and turns off his phone.

(No one’s going to try to contact him anyway.)

or

Anxiety has a way of convincing Peter that everyone hates him. Tony has a way of proving him wrong.

Midnight Oil, by @jolinarjackson

After everything that has happened to Peter over the last year - or five, really - he shouldn’t be worried about something as mundane as the ACT. When he fails it, though it sends him into a spiral of self-doubt, which only gets worse when Peter realizes that he doesn’t seem to be able to fix whatever is broken.

Tony Stark has anxiety 

do you even remember what the world looks like ?, by @iron--spider

Tony’s heart has been working on overdrive since this whole thing started. Friday has a countdown clock plastered on the heads up display, but it feels like hieroglyphics to him at this point, like some ancient language he could never master.

Because when Peter Parker is missing, things start losing their meaning real quick.

“Should be around here,” Rhodey says on the com. May is still on the other line, listening in, because once a certain amount of time goes by without word from Peter, things move into Extremely Worried Aunt territory. They’re already in Tony Is Panicking territory, and when both of those territories overlap it’s never a good time for anybody.

Time? What the hell is time? His mind is blanking numbers out entirely. Minutes are seconds are hours are years.

not like megatron, by @iron--spider

“Hi! This is Peter Parker, I can’t get to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll call you back later! Hopefully not too much later, but don’t get your hopes up!”

Tony knows that message by heart. He’s heard it hundreds of times, in a greyer world, and it sends shivers down his spine as he climbs into the car.

He doesn’t think about that place. That half-world. No way, that’s done, that’s over, that’s history.

“Hey, kid, don’t you know it’s bad etiquette to go and disappear on your birthday? Not allowed, really, really bad vibes from the universe. What’s going on with your suit? I wasn’t watching. Nope. Just got an alert. What’s going on? Uh, call me back.” He clears his throat and hangs up like a moron, driving out into the street.

Hypothermia trope (i really like it so if you have any suggestions...)

i knock the ice from my bones, by hopeless_hope

Peter tries to move his legs through the water, dread filling him when they don’t move, and he just hangs there, doing anything and everything he can not to focus on the feeling of ice clinging to his bones. He feels sluggish, the world blurring around him, and he rests his head on the ice, not even registering the cold anymore.

He’s just so damn tired.

“PETER!” he hears someone yell, but it’s all muffled, and he lazily drags his eyes up to see a figure descending towards him.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he thinks, This is not how my vacation was supposed to go.

or

While on what's supposed to be a relaxing vacation with the Starks, things for Peter quickly go south, and he finds himself on thin ice. Literally.

Ice Ice Baby, by @wolfypuppypiles

If Tony, Bucky or pretty much anybody that knew Peter had seen him that morning they would have smacked him upside the head. Helping people was great, everyone should give it a go, but when helping people puts you in danger it’s not so smart anymore.

AKA Peter can't get from Avenger tower to the subway without giving his winter clothes to homeless people and ends up with a severe case of hypothermia

Candle in the Window, by @madasthesea

Finals are over and Peter just wants to go home. The weather has other ideas.

Burn This Out, by @ephemeralstark

It's summer and Peter is free to be Spider-Man all day which is great, but it's summer and Peter is out as Spider-Man on the hottest day of the year which is not great.

Or, Peter gets heat stroke because he can't thermoregulate and things could not go worse for him.

(yeah, it’s not an hypothermia, but it’s linked to the fact that Peter can’t actually thermoregulate)

Post-Endgame (really like this trope too lmao)

the first birthday after, by iron_spider 

(Endgame spoilers. But The Thing doesn't happen.)

The rain falls harder and Tony turns, his neck creaking and cracking, and he sees Peter asleep over by the window. He’s holding a small, flat box, and he’s slowly slipping to the right side of the easy chair he’s in.

Tony thinks about letting him sleep, but he finds himself speaking anyway. “Pete,” he says, his voice rough and raspy.

Peter immediately startles awake. “Happy Birthday,” he says, almost like he’d fallen asleep practicing it, planning to say it as soon as he woke up. He blinks at Tony, shivering a little bit, and then he smiles. “Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday.”

Tony snorts, smiling back. “Thanks, bud,” he says.

Second Best, by Rowan_M

Tony had adjusted to parenthood quickly when Morgan came along, and was always conscious of making sure Peter isn't left out ... Almost always. When Peter gets hurt while taking care of Morgan, Tony obsess over his daughter and takes his anger out on Peter, without even checking to see if he was okay. Steve finds Peter later that night in serious pain and in need of immediate medical attention.

Or, Peter gets hurt while taking care of Morgan and Tony basically ignores him.

when you’re feeling empty keep me in your memory, by JkWriter

after everything with thanos he forgets it's his birthday. he just assumed everyone else did too.

All For You, by @ironxprince

Three weeks after the snap that saved the world, Peter learns he was the reason behind it. He learns that Tony risked death, and now has to live with the ramifications, both physical and mental, all because of him.

This doesn't sit right with him.

you save everybody, but who saves you ?, by @iron--spider

Tony doesn’t sleep, because he can’t, because too many things are plaguing him, most of all where Peter is and what he’s doing. Tony has a good view of the hallway through the windows to his room, and he stares and stares until his eyes cross, until he hallucinates, until he knows he’s going insane.

He sees Peter sneaking into the med bay at about four in the morning.

The kid’s mask is off and he’s got two short, harsh slashes across his cheek, and he’s bleeding from a slice across his neck. His suit is ripped in a few places and he’s holding onto his middle, and Tony can see his hands are shaking.

It’s like something splinters in Tony’s already broken brain, like his world narrows and there are hazy edges, both weakness and strength entwining in his veins when he sees Peter struggle up onto one of the beds in the main atrium, starting to tend his wounds without calling anybody to help.

BAMF Peter Parker 

Pizza, a Movie, and... an Attempted Kidnapping ?, by Pogokitten

“Tony. We’ll be fine,” Peter tells the man for what must be the tenth time in the last half hour.

Peter’s sitting on the couch of his and May’s apartment and building Legos with Morgan as they both watch their father’s methodical, yet anxious, pacing. He’s dressed to impress, as is Pepper who is watching the scene slightly exasperated.

“Are you sure? We can ditch the gala, kid. Just say the word,” Tony offers, halting in front of his kids.

Or: Tony and Pepper leave Peter in charge of Morgan while they go to their first gala since the third snap. Peter is expecting a calm night in with his adopted sister, but some thugs throw a wrench in his plans.

he’s good like that, by @iron--spider

“Get the hell outta here, boy,” the man says. “Or you’re gonna watch your boss die in front of you.” Then he grabs Tony by the shoulders hard, and shoves him down to his knees. The gun is louder now, like it’s filled with words that are eager to be shouted, and Tony winces when he feels the barrel press against the back of his neck. His knees weren’t ready to hit the ground that hard, and he tries to keep the pain from reaching his face.

He must fail, because Peter looks pissed.

“You’re not gonna shoot him, mister,” Peter says, somehow still trying to maintain a respectful tone, despite the clear anger written all over him.

stark robotics and technology conference, by @iron--spider

Peter leans against the wall while Tony chooses their floor, and the doors close. “Do you, uh, want me to do some interning stuff? Like go and get you coffee? Make sure the, uh—programs are all ready? Make sure the paintings are straight in the ballroom? Make sure the chairs are—”

Tony snorts. “Kid, I just thought you’d enjoy this. May told me about when it came through Queens but you two couldn’t make it because she was working and didn’t want you to go alone, and I thought, after all the shit you’ve been through lately, that you deserved something fun. No interning for you. That’s just an excuse.”

Peter remembers that. It was six months after Ben died, and he wasn’t gonna bother May too much about the conference. He didn’t know how much tickets cost anyways, or if kids his age could even go.

He really hung onto the idea of Iron Man after Ben died. Peter held him closer than ever.

Peter and Tony fighting 

dinner and a jailbreak, by killerqueenwrites

“I’m not your kid!” Peter shouts.

“Don’t walk away from me, I’m not done–“

“You’re not my dad!”

Peter fitting in after the Blip isn't as easy as Tony hoped it would be. He wants his kid back, but they can't seem to stop fighting.

and then Peter goes missing.

my old man, by parkrstark 

"I just want to help you. I want to help you understand what's wrong here and how to stop it. I used to be the same way until my father showed me how to be a man." He glanced back at Peter to sneer. "He's old enough to know better by now, but it's not your fault you didn't know how to teach him." "Teach him what?" Tony asked even though he didn't want to know the answer.

"Discipline, of course," Junior said with a wink.

--

Tony takes Peter on a weekend trip to try and change his mind about college and things go wrong. Then, they go even more wrong.

Between how it is and how it should be, by @frostysunflowers

''Doesn’t Captain Rogers ever…wonder,'' Peter winced as he fumbled for the right word, ''where you are?''

Bucky smirked. ''Steve’s a regular mother hen. Used to be me that worried about him.'' He gave Peter a pointed look. ''Better question is, isn’t Stark wondering where you are?''

Soulmates trope 

presumed dead, by killerqueenwrites 

Tony gets his first soulmark when he’s fifteen, his second when he's thirty. He's forty-six when his third appears, and forty-eight when it fades to grey.

did you see the flares in the sky ?, by justt-ppeachy

‘hi’  

One simple word was displayed proudly on the inside of his right wrist. Tony wasn’t sure when this word showed up or how long it had been there.

A line formed underneath the word and Tony could almost feel the pressure on his arm from the marker his soulmate was using to push one phrase from their skin into his.

‘i loev yu’

The letters were written slowly and messily as they showed up upon his wrist while he watched in disbelief. Not sure if he was hallucinating or just going insane, Tony rubbed at the writing, wondering if they would disappear once he looked again.

The words were barely recognizable, but they were still the best thing Tony had ever seen.

IronDad Fluff (yeah)

peter wearing tony’s hoodie, by killerqueenwrites 

Tony’s used to his clothes going missing. His MIT hoodie doesn’t often leave his closet, though, which is why he notices its absence straight away. There’s a lifetime of safety and comfort in this old hoodie, for both of them, and that’s all Tony could ever wish to give Peter.

Career Day, by @superhusbands4ever

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Peter’s enhanced senses picked up the familiar voice from outside the door. “I had a meeting this morning and then I got lost looking for the class… anyway, I’m here for Peter? Peter Parker?”

He frowned at hearing his name, still unsure what exactly was going on. He watched as his teacher continued to stand and stare out the door for a minute before seemingly remembering herself and taking a step back.

“Of course! If you could just go sit next to him until your turn, he’s in the back on the right side.”

The man stepped through the door and Peter gaped with the rest of the class as Tony Stark, in his signature suit and goatee, sporting a pair of red sunglasses and carrying a suitcase walked through the door.

Kryptonite, by forensicleaf 

The kid is acting weird.

Tony tries to figure it out.

father’s day, by @iron--spider 

It’s Father’s Day, and Tony never really had a father. Not in the real sense of the word, not in the way that counts.

Peter Parker doesn’t have a father, either. Not anymore, anyway, not since he was little, and the amount of years that have passed since then outweigh the amount of time he got with Richard Parker.

Tony wouldn’t call himself Peter’s dad. He wouldn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t think of himself that way, no way, no way.

He stares at himself in the mirror. He pulls down on his cheeks, makes his eyes water. He runs his hands over the roughness of his jaw and sorta hates everything about himself right now, because he’s acting like a goddamn idiot. It’s Father’s Day and he’s not a father. He doesn’t know why the hell he’s pining for something that isn’t his, shouldn’t be his, can never be his. He isn’t a father, he isn’t Peter’s father, so there’s no reason on God’s green earth for Peter and him to do something for Father’s Day.

ain’t no valley low enough, by @iron--spider (yes, again, ‘cuz she’s the best)

Peter snorts. “You know I didn’t apply anywhere in Florida.”

“Please, kid, you know all you have to do is write a beautiful essay with my recommendation attached to it and you’re in. You’ve got the scores.”

Peter has a list. Of all the places he applied to, all the places he got into. A lot of it was encouraged by the adult role models in his life, some of it by Ned daydreaming about places like California and Colorado. Mostly, Peter just applied everywhere he could think of, because he’s known for a long time that Tony was gonna help May pay for it, and he didn’t wanna limit his options. Thinking about college has been strange for him, strange to the extent that he had a full blown panic attack about it in the middle of Avengers taco night last month. He can’t really understand it, doesn’t get why it feels like the end of the world—because he’s experienced the end of the world, and it’s not which campus has a bowling alley and which school has circus classes. But he nearly blacked out all the same, sobbed in Tony’s arms on the balcony until Tony proposed this. The road trip.

and when it’s hard, i’ll place your head into my hands, by hopeless_hope

“Tony,” Pepper sing-songs to get his attention. “Your mother hen is showing.”

“What?” he snaps indignantly. “I am not a mother hen. This is just... concern. Of the average kind. Perfectly normal.”

“Of course,” Pepper humors him, and he shoots her a dirty look as he types out a quick text to Peter.

or

It's been five days since Tony's heard from Peter, who's away at college, and Tony is not coping well. (Neither is Peter.)

Peter likes cuddles (and Tony too, but he always denies it... until he can’t)

my arms will hold you (keep you safe and warm), by parkrstark 

“So, you’re telling me your body...is going through Oxytocin withdrawals?” Tony asked slowly.

“Cuddle withdrawals,” Peter corrected him. “Mr. Stark cuddles.”

TW : Rape/non-cons

make me strong, by parkrstark 

It all started when Tony introduced Peter to Skip Westcott. He just didn't know until it was too late.

(There is a lot more, but I can’t find it rn ;-;)

5+1 

5 times peter clung to tony, by parkrstark 

... and the one time tony clung to him.

You are my Dad, you’re my dad, boogiewoogiewoogie, by Hittinmiss

“Peter? What’s going on kid?” Tony asked, him popping up on the phone’s screen.

“Hey da-” Peter started automatically before immediately noticing his mistake, the look on Ned’s face proved that yes, he almost called Tony Stark dad. He needed to try recover quickly because the look on Tony’s face seemed confused, especially with his slight pause. “-aaaaaamn Mr. Stark I really like your shirt. Where’d you get it?”

Smooth.

---

5 times Peter called Tony Dad and the 1 time Tony called himself Dad

5 Times Tony Took Care of Peter..., by As_Clear_As_Crystal 

“Think if I coded a sign into your suit that says ‘Baby on Board,’ maybe criminals wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about murdering you?” Tony asks airily, poking at the bottom of Peter’s foot.

Peter halfheartedly kicks at Tony with his toe. (“That’s offensive, Mr. Stark.” )

- - -

aka: Five times Tony took care of Peter, and one time Peter took care of Tony.

5 times Peter is stuck with Tony, by @iron--spider

(...and one time he’s stuck alone.)

“I wonder if Pepper’s reported me missing yet,” Tony says, with an exaggerated sigh. “I wonder if this is some kind of scheme to kidnap me or something.”

“I think the ride’s just broken,” Peter says.

“Today of all goddamn days,” Tony says, exasperation clear in his voice and in his eyes. “Ruining our trip—”

“It’s not ruined,” Peter says. “Look, we’re hanging out."

“Real quality time,” Tony huffs. “Us, a few other trapped members of the general public, and a handful of animatronic pirates. Drunk pirates. Repeating themselves.”

5 times tony forgot peter was just a kid, by @parkrstark

...and the 1 time he didn't.

Or the one where it was hard for Tony to remember that the kid fighting next to him was still just a kid.

can i get a good night’s sleep ? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep ?, by peterstank 

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is completely fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

or: five times peter doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

Five Times Peter and Tony Had Each Other’s Back, by Sahiya

... and One Time They Needed Help.

Peter is Tony’s Biological Child

I Had the Dream Again, by Skeeter_110

Peter calls Tony in the middle of the night crying.

Congratulations, it’s a Boy, by capiocapi 

"Sir, I have the results.”

“Okay, Jarvis. Hit me.”

“It’s a match. 99.9% chance that he is your biological son, which is the percentage needed to be recognized by law as a biological parent.”

Tony’s stomach did a funny swooping dance. “Great. Congratulations to me then, eh? It’s a boy.”

You Are My Sunshine, by @iamconstantine

Tony Stark had always been a man of science and he always would be. It was his personal and fundamental belief that everything had an explanation. His eventual encounters with Norse gods, alien life, and sorcerers did kind of quake this a little bit, but still.

One thing that had always confounded him as the one thing that had no scientific explanation was fate. Murphy’s law, Finagle’s law, the butterfly effect, the domino effect, the snowball effect, and the wisest of all: “Shit happens.”

So how peculiar was it that one of the greatest things to ever happen to him began with a tray of champagne?

Serie i love you more than anything, by @iron--spider 

The highs and lows of Tony unexpectedly becoming a single dad at 31– from Peter’s early baby years, all the way past the defeat of Thanos

May’s abusive boyfriend trope 

A Peter Parker Problem, by @spagbol99

Peter Parker was back from the dead. At least that is what everybody told him. He'd been snapped out of existence until some sort of time travel and an active death wish by his mentor had saved him and the universe. Just your average sort of life for a 16 year old from Queens.

Peter comes back to find May has a husband and a kid. A new family he has to fit into. But he has done it before, he can do it again.

The only thing that feels solid is Tony: the Blip and fatherhood have mellowed him and Peter loves the bond they have now. He knows Tony would be there for him through anything. But Tony needs to focus on his own recovery - not small time Peter Parker problems. When things at home take a turn for the worse, Peter decides that he'll handle it himself. He is Spider-man. He's been to space and fought aliens. He can get through anything. After all, if May is happy, he is happy, right? Right?

(again, I’ve read a lot more but can’t find it...)

Peter Parker Whump (everyone’s favorite trope)

Danger Pizza, by alice_in_ink

The window was pushed open, and Iron Man’s head popped into his bedroom. “Here’s where I’m confused—why lock the front door but leave the fire-escape-accessible windows unlocked?” He clambered through said window. “Seems like a safety hazard.”

Peter eyed the metal suit as it straightened to a standing position. “Did you break into my window to kill me?”

The face plate lifted, and Tony’s eyes quickly looked over the teen. “Christ, kid. It looks like you’re halfway there.”

...

A wild night on patrol leaves Peter with a broken back, and boy, does he want to be able to move without dying. (So he calls Anthony Stark, obviously.)

If You Can’t Catch A Breath (You Can Take The Oxygen Straight Out Of My Own Chest), by @losingmymindtonight

"And I would hurry. Little Peter is about to be under quite a lot of pressure, and it might get a little hard to breathe.”

I’ve Got You, by @thedumbestavenger

Peter runs into a Copycat Vulture out on patrol, from there, everything escalates.

Meetings and Migraines, by AllThingsGeeky

Peter has another migraine at an unfortunate time and despite his best efforts he can’t ignore it forever.

The Most Important Thing In The World, by S0lstice

Peter’s door creaked and began to bend under the force of the crowbar and for the first time since regaining consciousness, fear began to press into him. Something very bad was happening and it was happening fast - too fast for his sluggish mind to keep up.

He went with his instincts instead, the first one always being, Help Mr. Stark.

Friendly Fire, by @jolinarjackson

Finding a careful truce with the government, the “rogue Avengers” are allowed to return to the Compound where they are put under house arrest. Peter coming to spend one week at the Compound during his summer break couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time as the opportunity to bond a little more with his mentor is overshadowed by a conflict he doesn’t quite understand. When he starts to develop a mysterious medical condition, however, the former team is forced to work together – not just to protect Peter’s identity from the DODC, but also to find the cause for his illness before it’s too late.

“He’s my kid,” Tony said, his voice hoarse. “He’s my kid and I failed him.” He covered his eyes and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. “All I ever do is fail him.” Natasha knelt down in front of him and cupped his face in her hands, waiting for him to meet her eyes before she said, “Right now, he doesn’t need you to fix this. He doesn’t need you down here. He needs you over there, in the medbay, by his side.” She thumbed tears from the corners of his eyes and ignored the ones running down her own face. “You haven’t failed him yet.”

alarm bells and panic levels, by @iron--spider

Tony lands heavy on the dock, the wood splintering hard under the metal suit. He’s having trouble breathing, his nose is bleeding, he most definitely has more than the recommended amount of broken ribs. But none of that fucking matters. The sky is clear, the assholes are down, but there’s one thing missing.

He looks over his shoulder when Rhodey lands too. His suit is dented in a few places but other than that he looks alright. His face mask flips up and Tony lets his mask retract.

“Where’s Peter?” Tony asks, his voice rough with the amount of yelling he’s been doing. Fuck these stupid assholes. They were supposed to go mini-golfing today. The kid had been looking forward to it for weeks.

Rhodey looks around, breathing hard through his mouth. “I thought you knew.”

there’s something wrong, by @iron--spider

“I’m sorry, Pete,” Tony whispers. “We should have checked you for something like this when we were resetting your arm and checking on the concussion. Goddamnit. We didn’t think.”

“He poisoned us both?” Peter asks, trying to open one eye to look at him.

“Yeah,” Tony says, brushing Peter’s hair back from his forehead. “He’s dying. He got the brunt of it, a nice fucking cocktail of bullshit, including mercury and a bunch of other toxic shit—”

“Am I dying?” Peter whispers, voice breaking.

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces), by aloneintherain

Peter's trapped beneath a collapsed building during a mission, hurt and unable to move. Luckily, his comm still works. Unluckily, the Avengers don’t realise how bad of a state Peter is in, and Peter isn’t inclined to tell them.

“Spidey, they’ve got reinforcements. We’ve hit a bit of a snag here, and I don’t think anyone will be able to help you for a while. Think you can sit tight while we deal with this?”

The pressure on his lower back and legs was becoming too much. Peter swallowed thickly, fighting down panic. He could handle this.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I can do that.”

Collections/Series (’cause I could make an inventory of all @iron--spider stories, you know, but you have to read all of her work, if you haven’t yet) (God she doesn’t even know who I am)

iron dad bingo, by @iron--spider

stay at home, by @iron--spider

whumptober, by @iron--spider

Whumptober 2019, by @marvelous-writer

Day in the life of the Iron Family, by @marvelous-writer 

The Tumblr Archives, by @losingmymindtonight

Everything comes back to you, by @losingmymindtonight

Nice work, kid, by @madasthesea

Irondad Bingo 2019, by sahiya 

The Adventures of Spidy-son and Iron-dad, by eva7673

Tony adopts Peter (why everyone kills May, btw ?)

Accepting the Tides, by @emma--anacortes

Tony had dragged Peter from the depths of despair after May's death. It was normal that he'd grown to care a little about him, right?

Yeah, okay. He freaking loved the kid.

So naturally he would feel a little weird when Richard Parker randomly shows up in Peter's life. Naturally he'd feel protective, nervous, and confused because where has Richard been all this time? And why does Tony feel sick every time he sees him around Peter?

All he knows is if Richard hurts his kid, Tony's gonna give him hell.

Series Out of Darkness, by @starryknight09

“Is this Peter Parker?”

“Yes…”

“This is Dr. Nguyen. I’m sorry but your aunt’s been in an accident and we’re going to need you to come to Queens Memorial as soon as you can.”

Peter's life shatters with a phone call. The last person he expects helps him pick up the pieces.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

23. ten times harry fell for draco- part 2 

(Or ten times Harry fell for Draco but one time he didn't fall out )

Part 1

[i highly insist listening to this while reading to enjoy this rollercoaster ]

Until.. 

Until one day draco returned to his so called flat to find it unlocked. He took out his wand in self defense from whatever he’d face . 

“ who are you and what are you doing in my flat ?” draco asked the man his back facing him, looking over the discrete bookshelf 

“ your flat, mister you must be mistaken, this flat belongs to me “ and he finally turned around to face draco. 

It took draco several moments to pace back into normality before he realised who he was facing “ harry ?” 

The other man analysed draco’s face thoroughly before as if something flashed inside his eyes, the cascade of memories hit him. 

“ draco, its you “ harry gave a small smile in surprise 

“ i-i can’t-” but draco’s throat closed down, he couldn’t form even a single sentence, neither in his head nor his heart willed to respond 

“ its been so long “ harry mumbled as he closed the distance between them but draco immediately held up his hand to make him to stop 

“ how do i know its you ?” he said, wishing whoever it was would reveal themselves and stop playing with draco. He had learnt long ago that harry had left and that he’d never come back but when he have, he doesn’t want to believe. 

“ it is me “ harry shook his head lightly with confusion 

“ if you really are him, tell me something only him and me would know “ draco insisted 

harry scratched the back of his neck nervously before he spoke up “ everyone thinks your favourite colour is green but it’s a specific shade of green that only springs up in malfoy manor in the month of april, the kind of green that is so light yet so dark, the kind of green you’ve never seen anywhere but there “ 

Draco kept staring at harry knowing that it was only harry who knew this because there was never anyone else he could’ve said that to “ it is you “ he softly whispered 

“ told you “ harry grinned smugly. Draco wanted to just run in his arms and tell him how much he had missed him in all this he’d been gone but upon seeing harry there, he felt anger and heartbreak. The pain of seeing him again when he had prepared himself that he’d never see him again, the pain of seeing how much he has changed, the pain in not seeing him with tears like he had seen him last time, the pain for being so angry that he had showed up after so long that draco had almost given up, almost assumed the worst.

“ by the look on your face, you don’t seem so happy to see me “ harry narrowed his eyes, his arms in the air, confused. 

Draco wanted to throw something at harry but a much larger part of him told him being angry at him was useless, he didn’t even seem like the same harry anymore, the innocence harry’s face had one held was lost, the decency in his body was lost, even his words didn’t feel the same way anymore, it was almost as if it wasn’t his harry anymore, but he was .

“ where have you been for the past 7 years ?” draco’s eyes became glossy suddenly, he didn’t understood why but he had swore to himself long ago that harry would never be worth his tears. 

" i- what are you doing in my house ?" Harry questioned back

" answer mine first " Draco stubbornly said dropping thing's he bought over the table in the much seriousness of the conversation.

" if you promise to answer mine ?" Harry asked again raising his eyebrows. Harry had no right to question him this way, he wasn't the one who was missing, nobody gave him the right to be this way yet clenching his jaw Draco nodded, crossing his arms simultaneously.

" i- was on the run. A couple of years in Spain, Portugal, alsacce, and Manhattan.. now you go " Harry answered

Taking a deep breath Draco let go " when you First left, grimauld place still stayed yours until after an year later, it eventually became partially mine. For the longest time I thought you'd come back, when you didn't I kept it to myself and took care of it. There's not a lot of places like these "

The other partial truth was Draco lived here because it reminded him so much of Harry that he wasn't ready to let go. He lived in the house that insulted him as a reward for whatever he had put Harry through long ago but mostly because it felt like home, it felt like harry.

" so- you've been living here for how long ?" Harry asked curiously dragging a chair and settling into it. Draco flared, still not letting go of his anger,be wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

" it's my turn to ask a question " Draco reminded. Lightly smiling Harry told him to ask another question.

" did you ever come to Britain ?" He asked.

Harry's face softened, a moment of pain flashed by in his eyes before like a switch he turned it off " I didn't "

" your turn"

" 6 years "

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise but didn't say anything else.

" why are you back ?" Draco asked without a hesitation. He didn't care if the words seemed straight forward or rude, he didn't care, he didn't care about Harry, but only he did so much.

" I'm tired " Harry sighed

" tired of what? Abandoning people ?" Draco spat slamming his hands over the table.

Harry was taken a back by Draco's sudden Outrage but chose not to act against it, he knew he deserved this " I'm tired of running"

Draco bit his tounge so as not to be outrageous again. Blinking for a moment, he took out juice box from the bag of things he bought and passed one onto Harry.

" your turn " Draco sighed as he pulled a chair too and sat in front of him.

" what's with the new look ?" He asked smirking

But Draco didn't wanted to have a fun conversation, Harry didn't deserve the fun side of Draco anymore, he wouldn't ever deserve it again " you can't stay the same forever. Everyone changes" Draco replied with a straight face.

Raising his eyebrows for a moment Harry sipped the juice in awkwardness " your turn"

Draco thought for a moment before finally asking " are you going to stay ?"

" yes " Harry replied smiling.

__________________

Months had passed since Harry had came back and Draco still refused to give harry the satisfaction to as much as even give him a smile. He told himself often that Harry didn't deserve it but everytime Harry didn't look at him, Draco melted his exterior and gave Harry the smile he had always thought he'd give him if he ever came back.

Harry had became acquainted with everyone once again, started teaching defense against dark arts at Hogwarts, went out on dinner's with people, his life had almost fallen back to normal but it didn't felt the same with Draco not being himself. Everyone told Draco to simply forgive him but he didn't. He told them he didn't deserve his forgiveness. Harry understood the madness but it was causing the same heart wrenching pain Draco had once caused but only this time Harry was stronger than before and didn't let it become a hindrance.

Their questions trivia became a small once in a week tradition, they kept all the questions general, some funny, some related to Harry's past but this one specific night of 4th of October took a turn when Harry had came to the grimauld place late for the trivia night.

" you're late " Draco said without any emotions sitting over the usual chair with the usual drink.

" uh- yeah I was- well out " Harry announced as he took off his shoes and took his usual spot.

" where ?" Draco asked curiously.

" well- I- look draco don't be mad at me but you've been pretty cold to me ever since I came back and I am sure I deserve it but you haven't been quite a pleasant man"

" where are you going with this ?" Draco rolled his eyes

" I've been going out with someone and I was out on a date with him. I didn't wanted to tell you because well you just haven't been quite interested in me like before anymore" Harry replied. Draco chewed the inside of his cheek, took a sip of his drink and began

" I don't see why you couldn't had just told me. I am pretty sure we could've adjusted our much less important plans to some other nights so you could spend time with your- is he your boyfriend now- alright, then your boyfriend " Draco said after recieving a nod from Harry.

" i- it's not like that, I do like these night's Draco, it's just - you're just-"

" pretty rude? Cold? An asshole ? Insolent dick ? Much less Caring? " Draco raised his eyebrows in mockery.

" I didn't-"

" but that's what you think, isn't it Harry ?" Draco asked. Harry sighed before nodding

" but it's Only because you are making yourself this way. I know you Draco and I know this isn't you -"

" well Harry you weren't here for 7 damn Years, I'm not who I used to be anymore. And you don't know me and wanna hear another shocking fact, you're not yourself either " Draco snapped and stormed out of the place.

Harry didn't run after draco, he couldn't even if wanted to because he was right. They weren't the same people they used to be anymore.

And that was the end of their trivia night's. They only remained acquaintances, they only waved each other a small high crossing the halls or only nodded at each other whenever met in some unusual situation, they didn't even get along anymore at any of Hermione's movie nights with everybody else.

It was a similar fine Saturday evening at Hermione's place when Harry had invited his boyfriend, drake.

" you're the man ?" Draco asked as he shook his hand violently.

" uh yeah- Harry's told me a bunch about you" Draco looked at harry who refused to meet his gaze.

Draco gave the man a small smile before leaving his hand and walking away and sitting down next to Ron and started talking about the quidditch match.

Frowning Harry assured drake everything was fine and invited him to simply join for the movie. To say the evening was definitely not pleasant. Draco didn't like drake even a single bit, he ignored him or if he couldn't, he only vaguely answered him. He refused to tell him anything about whatever he did or whatever he was going to do or whatever he is doing. More so often he messed up his name. If all of this was done purposely, Harry didn't know but he sure had enough of Draco.

When everyone departed and walking back homes, Harry quickly got hold of Draco and apparated them back to grimauld place.

" next time, tell someone if you're apparating them or they'll splinch themselves. I'm sure you're aware of the Ill effects of disapparating or you've even forgotten that ?" Draco asked Coldly walking into the living room

" this is enough " Harry snapped

" really? What is ? By the way mind me, why have you apparated us here, I'm sure you must have a boyfriend to look forward to and I have a lonesome home to look forward to" Draco vaguely answered.

" you know what I'm talking about Draco. This is enough. You treating me like shit " Harry almost yelled frustrated

" treating you like shit ? Pardon me but I think my actions are quite valid " Draco furrowed his eyebrows

" what about this is valid ? You had no Right to treat the man I like like shit, he did nothing but to make him like you and all you did was fuck it up for him and it's not even just about him, at first I understood your behaviour but now it's just irritating, the way your are. It's like you're not even the same person anymore " Harry yelled throwing his hand in the air

" well I'm not Harry, I'm not the same person anymore. You don't get to say that however I am is invalid because you Weren't here to see me go through my shit. And me liking drake or not doesn't change anything. I may never like him but he'd still be your boyfriend. My opinion doesn't matter " Draco snapped back

" your opinion doesn't matter ? You're my best friend-"

" was, I'm not you're best friend anymore. I'm nothing to you anymore " Draco yelled back pointing his finger at harry and just then they heard a thunder from outside. The wind outside howled loudly, the open window fluttering loudly. The sky outside turned the beautiful shade of saddening grey. They both looked out for a moment before Harry went and locked the window.

" I don't understand -"

" what don't you understand Harry ? We're not the same people anymore, why is it so hard for you understand ?" Draco snapped again. The lightning broke outside and suddenly it started pouring down.

" what went so wrong that you can't be with the same way you're with everyone else!! I left big deal Draco, you don't see Ron getting all worked up about me leaving and coming back. Sure everyone was mad at me but none like you " harry bellowed

" you- I can't believe you. Ron doesn't get worked up because Hermione told him not to. He wanted to break your fucking face when you came back but you want to know right, you Want to know why it's different for me- well here you go then- it's because you left without so much so a word. A damn bloody note, this fucking letter " Draco angrily yelled, violently taking out his wallet from his back pocket and showing the small parchment.

Harry angrily took the note away from him and read it out loud " you are my yellow, I'm just not yours, so long- you- you're still carrying it " Harry softened up immediately

" yes i carry it everyday and you want to know why because my fucking best friend lied to me, left a fucking note after singing a bloody song about confessing love for me and Never came back. I'm mad at you because you abandoned everything, you Ran away without a fucking goodbye to any of your friends, without a fuckin goodbye to teddy. You know what you're an asshole, that's what you are. I was here all by myself when my life was going shit, when everyone fucking left me because they got busy with their own lives,when the only man I thought I loved didn't love me anymore because he said I was too attached to someone who left me,when my father fucking died, when I was framed for a scandal I didn't commit and was put on parole for 6 weeks, when I needed Someone so desperately, when I needed my best friend so much but he had left, but then you show up here after 7 year assuming that one day I'd forgive you, you're wrong. I won't forgive you because you're a bloody asshole who confessed you had been love with me for so long but left as soon as you made a confession. You didn't care to ask me if I ever felt the same way you, because you're an asshole. I spent years loving you ,I waited everyday by this fucking door hoping one day you'd finally show up but you never did until I lost every hope- I th- thought you were dead " Draco's tears spilled down his face until he choked on his words. He broke down pushing his hair off his face, letting go, breathing harshly to come back to normal breathing, to realise he had actually yelled it all out loud. He had tore down his final wall.

" yo- you have no right " Harry Whispered after a few moments

" what ?" Draco asked confused

" you had no right to love me. You have no right to love me " Harry spoke, his eyebrows etched to the center

" yeah ? Well you didn't had the right to love me either Harry " Draco rolled his eyes

" no, you have no right to love after what you'd done to me. You- you were the reason I ran away from Everyone" Harry raised his voice

" me ? Oh so I was that cruel to you, right ? Because I don't remember you ever confessing to me " Draco narrowed his eyes

" yes you. There was always someone or something kept pushing you away. I spent years loving you and you not once checked, not once cared for me. Do you know what it feels like to see Someone you love get along with Someone. You wouldn't know what it's like to fall so hard for Someone and kiss them one and they push you away. I waited so long for you Draco, you have no right to love me anymore. I did my waiting and I've moved on. I don't care. I couldn't keep falling for someone who got off married to Someone who was exactly like me but not me. I've moved on from you draco and I suggest you do the same. Because I'm not in love with you anymore, I did my loving. I won't love someone who hurt me anymore " Harry snapped letting go of his tears, his face become instantly wet with the confessions he had held on for long so dear to his heart. It was like a weight had been lifted when the rain outside now Poured down more heavily.

" well good for you then Harry, you won't love me anymore because you've moved on. You can love drake I don't care. I can't care. If this is my punishment for not knowing how you felt all those years then be it, I'd rather suffer with it my whole life for treating you the way I did but remember one thing Harry, if you ever marry that man I will never show up because I won't be able to see you getting married off to someone I know isn't me. It's my fault I fell for you, and I'll deal with it. Goodbye " Draco snapped, handing Harry the note and storming out without an umbrella. Harry heard the front door shut angrily and fast heavy stomping outside.

He closed his eyes, sat down at the nearest couch, pinching the bridge of his nose. Frowning he felt his face still wet, he was still crying and he couldn't stop anymore. He wiped it off and off but nothing worked, so he let them fall. He looked at the crumpled note in his hand. He read the note over and over again until a tear dropped on the note. He remembered the days he spent away from him crying for just Draco's mere presence, he remembered all those moment with Draco he missed, he missed the smile on his face, he missed his wet musky cauldron smell, he missed laughing off together nights away, he missed the way things used to be, he missed him. He was here and he missed him. And just like that Harry let his last wall drop and ran outside angrily shutting off the door.

He ran down the street searching for the only man he had ever loved. Running turns after turns Harry saw only one figure walking ahead of him.

" Draco " he yelled

The man turned around and harry ran fast towards him until he was only a few centimetres away.

" what, came here to yell at me again, was that not enough ?" Draco huffed out crying, it was raining down so heavily but harry still knew when Draco cried. He still knew Draco the way he used to, he just needed to find him again.

" you had no right to love me back after all this time. I had moved on from you but you- you big screw up had to ruin it for me " Harry replied water dripping down his face

" so what, you came to tell me this again? Look-"

" no, I came here to do this " Harry said and pulled draco closer to him and pressed his lips against Draco's. Shook for a moment Draco pulled away, searching a look of hesitation from Harry but upon met with none, he kissed him back. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, finding way inside his jacket. Draco put his hands in Harry's hair and pulled him closer. None of them had ever been kissed like before. Harry poured every ounce of memory, every single time he had fell for Draco, every single time he saw him smile, every single time when time stopped around them just so he could look at draco, every single time he wanted to kiss Draco into that one deep kiss. All those years of waiting met with a charming, magical kiss in the rain.

" fuck, I missed you " Draco Whispered against Harry's lips.

" I'm sorry " harry cried, instantly hugging Draco.

" I'm sorry too " Draco sniffed hugging Harry back.

" I missed you so much Draco " Harry confessed. He pulled away to get one final look at Draco and smiled and finally received that one smile Harry had waited months for seeing.

" Draco, I fell in love with you when we were kids and I've never fell out of it. I don't think I want to " Harry confessed.

Draco smiled " I've loved you in my memories Harry. I've loved you for 7 years and I want to love you for so much longer "

Harry nodded, smiling and kissed Draco once again. The wind howling had slowed down and the rain had finally turned into a slow romantic pace as if the universe had finally looked down upon them and was finally happy. The universe was probably so Happy that in coming April the green grass had came earlier and Lasted longer because it knew that green was Draco's favourite, it was the colour of Harry's eyes and his eyes were like coming home, finally at last.

23. part 1

Requests open

This if for @drarry-is-my-therapy @sombrewoodlandfairy for requesting a part 2 and all other notes for making me do this.

Day 22- I'm yours | day 24- concealment charms

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 4

A/N: ensue cute lil fight scene; this is short but the next part is... v long >:)

part 1 | part 3 | part 5

And then there were three. 

Zuko met Y/N on the steps away from the house. He had a single bag slung over his shoulder. Birds chirped off in the distance and if Y/N really listened she could hear the ocean slapping against the sand. 

“I’m glad I don’t have to convince you that coming back is the right thing to do.” The corner of her mouth turned up. This was the first time she had directly addressed him in three years. “Where’s Iroh?” Y/N asked. 

Zuko picked at his tunic. He had yet to meet her eyes.“He’s not coming.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. Azula said that Zuko and Iroh had been inseparable since Zuko’s banishment. She couldn’t go back to the ship with only one of the captives.  “What do you mean?” 

Zuko sent a look back to the house and started down the stairs that led down the mountain. “Let’s get going.”

Y/N huffed out through her nose and jogged to catch up with Zuko who’s pace was frighteningly fast down the steep stone stairs. “Why doesn’t Iroh want to come back?” 

He kept his eyes trained on the ground as he answered. “He says he’s never known my father to regret anything.”

“I was there when he told Azula. He does.” The lie slipped off her tongue easily. 

Zuko’s eyes widened and he stopped in his tracks. He didn’t say anything but his eyes asked the question his mouth couldn’t form: Really?

He’d always wanted to make his father proud, ever since they were children. Even after all that the Fire Lord had done to him, he was still so desperate for his approval. 

Y/N spoke the words she’d practiced in the mirror before heading up the mountain. “It’s very important to him that you come home, Zuko.” Y/N couldn’t stomach another lie. And technically, this one wasn’t a lie. It was a half-truth. It was important to the Fire Lord that Zuko go back to the Fire Nation, even if it was under the guise that he’d be welcomed back with fanfare. 

Zuko turned to look out at the sea of cherry-blossom trees and rocks to the ship on the water. The ship that he thought was god-sent. 

“Wait! Don’t leave without me!” Iroh shouted as he came down the stairs. 

“Uncle,” Zuko beamed up at him. “you’ve changed your mind.”

“Family sticks together, right?” Iroh asked as he placed a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. 

“We’re finally going home,” Zuko murmured under his breath in amazement. 

The sight of them both staring out onto the water made Y/N bite her lip. She wanted to tell them that they needed to turn back and run but she kept her mouth shut. It was her duty.

“Finally going home,” Iroh repeated as Zuko stepped away and resumed heading down the mountain. He looked to Y/N who worked to keep her face neutral. He didn’t look as fooled by her as Zuko was. 

In front of them the guards lined up on either side of the dock. They stood at attention with their traditional helmets and masks on. Y/N walked ahead, they were almost home free; just a few more steps before she hit the ramp. She walked to stand next to the ship’s captain as Azula addressed them. She was smiling at her victory already.

“Brother, Uncle, welcome” Azula bowed deeply which Iroh and Zuko returned. “I’m so glad you decided to come.”

The captain faced Y/N and nodded at her to go up the ramp first. Excitement burned in her chest as she squinted through the sun at Azula and made her way back to the ship. 

“Are we ready to depart, your highness?” The captain asked. 

“Set our course for home, Captain.”

“You heard the Princess! Raise the anchors,” the captain shouted from behind her. “We’re taking the prisoners home.”

Y/N had just reached Azula. Their faces mirrored one another from shock to outrage. Y/N whirled around on the captain who looked like he wanted to die on the spot. “You idiot,” she growled. She landed a swift kick to his stomach, effectively pushing him off the ramp and into the water. Her cheeks heated up in anger. Had he just shut up, Zuko and Iroh would be on the ship and in cuffs down below deck. It would have been easy for Y/N to get over her guilt about capturing them if she didn’t have to look in their eyes and face them. Now there was going to be a fight. 

Iroh had already turned on the guards around him, dodging fireballs and knocking them into the water with the grace of a much younger man. 

There was no one between Zuko and Y/N on the ramp. Y/N still hadn’t pulled her sword. It wouldn’t have been much good against his firebending anyways. “You lied to me!” he bellowed. His eyes burned into hers like he was shooting flames out of them. Y/N felt like she couldn’t use her voice, it had suddenly disappeared between the mountain and the dock. 

It didn’t matter, Azula assumed he was talking to her and answered for Y/N. “Like I’ve never done that before.” She grabbed Y/N’s arm and wrenched her back onto the ship, leaving Zuko to fight the guards that had just been flanking her. Azula gave her a little push to the upper deck and when she removed her hand Y/N realized her arm was burning where Azula touched her. She was geared up for a fight all along. 

Zuko’s anger fueled his fight. He stood on one foot and kicked one guard in the chest and punched the other, flames cracking as they left his hands and feet. Y/N stood on the upper deck watching it all unfold below her. Zuko ignited two knife-like flames from his hands. Azula’s back was still to him and Y/N knew immediately that whatever Zuko had planned was no match for Azula’s fight.  

“Zuko! Let’s go!” Iroh shouted from the dock. 

He ignored his uncle and began attacking Azula with fervor. He punched and kicked and sliced with his fire but each strike just missed Azula by a hair. She weaved around him like cat-snake in the reeds. She blocked a downstroke and pushed him away. 

“You know Father blames Uncle for the loss of the North Pole,” she taunted. “And he considers you a miserable failure for not finding the Avatar. Why would he want you back home except to lock you up where you can no longer embarrass him.” For a moment, Y/N thought that Zuko might surrender, or at least run from Azula and her guards. 

Instead he attacked again. 

Just as before, Azula evaded every strike and she had yet to throw any fire against Zuko. But Y/N was sure that wasn’t because she didn’t want to hurt him, she was just waiting for the right moment. They slowly made their way up the ramp to the upper deck. Y/N held her ground, she wasn’t afraid of a little heat. 

Suddenly Azula grabbed Zuko’s wrist, Zuko tried to jerk away at the last second, knowing what she was going to do, but she held fast. She shot a line of blue fire just over his head as he rolled backwards down the ramp. Y/N caught his expression when he landed in a crouch. Shock. He’d never seen her make blue fire before.

Zuko was still as Azula swirled her arms around her body creating a circle of energy. Lightning crackled around her, ready to be released. 

“Azula, don’t!” Y/N yelled. She didn’t know what made her do it but Y/N couldn’t watch as Azula killed her brother with that stupid fucking lightning. 

Her voice was enough to make Azula falter. The lightning faded for a moment before coming back stronger than before. Y/N drew her sword and started towards Azula unsure of what she was going to do to stop Azula, but Iroh got there first. As she pointed her lighting at Zuko, Iroh grasped her hand and Y/N watched in horror. Surely he would die from that. 

But he didn’t. Azula’s lightning traveled through his body and out his other hand straight into the side of the cliff, exploding rocks everywhere. He had redirected it. He twisted Azula’s arm around and kicked her in the chest, over the edge of the ship.

And then there were three. 

Y/N was caught in a stare down between the two men. She, the only non-bender on the Agni-damned ship, was the only one left standing to fight. But...Y/N realized she didn’t want to fight them. Any adrenaline she’d mustered up to go to battle evaporated. Slowly, without taking her eyes off of them, she let the tip of her sword fall. She watched as Iroh helped a still stunned Zuko to his feet and together they ran off the ship and into the cherry blossom forest. She swore Iroh had thrown a wink back in her direction...

Later, Y/N would tell herself that it was all a defense tactic; that the only reason she let them go was because she didn’t stand a chance against two fire-benders, one of them being the Dragon of the West, a man who could redirect lightning. She would absolutely deny any claim that she let them go because she didn’t want to see either of them imprisoned. That was absolutely untrue. 

A/N: how do we feel about Y/N lying to Zuko’s face? Letting Iroh and Zuko go? 

[johnseedfanclub]

Wip Day

Startin this bad boy up (at least this is an attempt)

Chapter 6(?)

TW: Mentions of drugs, suicide, vulgar language, hallucinations, abuse, vomiting

Angel rose up out of bed with a groan followed by a stretch

“Good fucking LORD” Angel grinded out as he cracked his back “I feel worse than that one time I was injected with fucking ketamine...”

After contemplating his life choices, and considering putting a bullet to his head, Angel managed to drag himself towards the window of his room.

“Hmm. Still out here huh?” Angel grumbled discontentedly “I would’ve hope it was a dream” Angel looked up as if he were speaking to God himself

Angel made his way downstairs and looked around. House was still quiet. There’s no way that she was taken, right? Missy couldn’t be gone. Angel had his own “gifts” but Missy was a trained army soldier, maybe higher than just a soldier. All Angel knew was that she was trained in the army and probably had way more control over herself than he did over himself.

“..Missy..?...MISSY?!” Angel called, walking through the deathly silent home

No...no..this isn’t good...They couldn’t have possibly kidnapped her. She’s a trained professional. She would know what to do in these situations. Angel is more likely to get himself captured and probably nearly get himself, and others, killed in the process. And aside from that, if Missy is gone...what will be of Angel? He is nothing but a ticking time bomb waiting to lose control.

Suddenly the silence was broken as his radio cracked “Ayooooo Angel!!!”

Angel jolted nearly sending himself out of his skin “Who the fuck is that” Angel took out his radio “How did I not lose this shit...” he whispered to himself before clicking the radio “Hello..?” Angel answered back

A voice of happiness and relief was heard on the other side “Angellll! Great to hear you’re alive bud! Kinda heard a lot of ruckus going on back at the bunker since you were....ya know...spotted and all but this whole ordeal kinda died down a bit of course..for now that is”

Jesus Christ who is this guy and why is he rambling at a time like this...it’s too fucking hot and early to be talking a man’s ear off.

“Also uh..Sorry about the whole smoke sesh we had the other day I kinda got a bit too excited and gave you way more than a shoulda..You probably feel-“

For fucks sake.

“Jesus fuck you’re talking way too fucking much.” Angel clicked the radio and it went dead silent. Angel drew out a deep sigh and clicked the radio again “Sorry...Havin a bad mornin...what’s your name now?”

“Oh shit my bad- you’re probably feeling like a dog that got ran over!” Connor laughed on the other side “Probably can’t remember a damn thing either...I’m Connor! The guy you met in the bunker” Connor replied in benevolence

Angel paced in the living room “Connor.....guy I met in the bunker......smoking...” Angel froze in realization “This fucking dickwad-“ Angel clicked his radio “YOU’RE THE GUY THAT TRIED TO FUCK ME UP WITH THAT FUCKING BLISS- BULLSHIT.”

“Woah...hey now I said sorry for that already. I meant good intentions. I would never purposely fuck a gay man over unless he fucked me or my guys ov-“

“GOOD INTENTIONS? I HAD TO FIGHT THROUGH RUGGGED MEN WHILE NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE STRAIGHT” Angel blurted out

“HEY. I WAS TRYING TO BE NICE. TO BE FAIR I DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD A RECORD” Connor yelled back drawling out the ‘record’

“WHATEVER. Say now....what did you give me. I nearly had night terrors because of that fucking plant. And there’s no fucking way that it’s just weed.” Angel sat himself down on the couch thinking about the nightmares he had last night

There was a silence after that question. Was it that it was a mistake? Should he not have asked? Or hesitation? Maybe there was something in that cigarette-joint whatever it was...he-...Connor had to have gotten it somewhere...this wasn’t no ordinary plant or mix of bad drugs in a plant. This was...different.

“Okay....look. I trust you. But you cannot say this to anybody.” Connor spoke carefully

Gullible for a man who works in a cult

“What I put in that joint was bliss oil and ground up Moonflower....l-look I’m sorry okay...the flower adds to the high and the oil makes it burn longer” Connor had a very regretful tone in his voice. But that didn’t explain what any of that substance was...

“What the fuck is bliss oil? And moonflower...sounds slightly familiar..” Angel said confused

“Don’t worry about it. Can you meet me near John’s ranch later?” Connor asked

“That asshole? Fat chance drug mule” Angel returned with a chuckle

“Ya know you should be nicer. And how do you remember him easily???” Connor huffed, malcontented

“This man has been harassing me the last four months ever since I moved here. I think at that point it’s safe to say he has a rememorable face....a punchable one too.” Angel sneered

“O-oh right....probably not a good place then huh...”

“Of c- didn’t you say that I had a record Connor?”

“Okay okay...I wasn’t thinking straight-“

“Obviously”

“Jesus Chr- DO YOU WANT TO MEET AT FALLS END THEN?!”

“That would be great love” Angel mocked

“Ain’t you a peach...you know...I’m starting to believe what John was saying about you.....hmm.” The radio clicked and went silent

“Oh I’m goin to nick his ears off...” Angel growled “Can finish a sentence but not a fight”

Angel got up after having a moment of planning to beat up Connor later and decided it might be better to head to Fall’s End...maybe after a nap of course.. he won’t have to worry about Connor till later.

Angel decided to head back into his room and throw himself on his bed “Oooh...” Angel breathed out “I have a feeling this is gonna be one fucking day.” Angel drawled out in exhaustion before closing his eyes shut.

"𝒜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁..."

Angel had a horrible gut wrenching feeling...that voice...that terrible fucking voice...

"𝒜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁...." the voice sang his name in a comforting tone...but that voice was never a comfort to him

He kept his eyes shut...but didn’t know how much longer he would have to for him to go away...it was impossible to ignore something that was so insisting and demanding...

"𝒲𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓊𝓅...𝑀𝓎 𝓈 𝑜 𝓃."

He opened his eyes and saw red. Only red. The walls of his room. Red. The ceiling. Red. Where he slept. Red. The sky. Red. Everything was Red. He immediately felt sick but he couldn’t escape there was no escape. He sat up.

There.

There he was in the doorway. Blocking his only way out. The tall figure that loomed over Angel’s doorway. A Man that Angel could never fight, The Man that Angel fears the most more than anything...anyone in the world

𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵𝓸 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓮𝔃

Angel quickly looked around but realized he was stuck. He was backed into a wall. There was no way he would make it out alive.

"𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈...𝑀𝓎 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓎." The voice said tenderly moving closer to him

“D-don’t call me that....” Angel moved back to try to move himself away from the Man but there was no use of it. He started breathing heavy. With every step the Man took the more weight he felt on his chest. He started to spiral, every fighting instinct left his body. He felt like a rabbit being hunted by a Lion.

“𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜 𝒾𝒻 𝐼 𝒹𝑜?"

“help...h e l p.” He tried to call out but struggled to get the words out between breaths “somebody help me. get me out of here.”

The Man grabbed Angel’s face and tightened his grip, enough to leave bruises on the skin. All the fight left his body...he froze in horror having to force himself to look in his eyes. Tears started to stream down his face and he whimpered and tried to scream.

"𝒮𝒽𝒽𝒽𝒽...𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌..𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑒" the Man stroked Angel’s face gently while shushing him like a puppy

“I don’t feel safe around you...I will never be safe or free in your hands....” Angel rasped out, nearly overworking his lungs for air “I will never call myself your son.”

The Man’s eye twitched but he cracked a smile "𝒜𝒽..." the man clicked his tongue before breathing in "𝒩𝑜..𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇" he retreated slightly before taking both of his large hands and pressing them on Angel’s throat, tighting them and he watched Angel panick and try to push him away legging out a crooked laugh

Angel saw his vision fading and slowly going dark. He was trying to fight back but it was a losing battle to begin with. So, he gave up.

"𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑜𝓃"

Angel immediately woke up and started coughing and immediately felt something coming up his throat. He ran to the bathroom and flipped the toilet cover up and immediately started retching. Fluids poured out of his mouth that burned his nose and throat. And when he thought he was done more came back up. After finishing he was shaking and his head was pounding, tears were streaming down his cheeks and he still felt that weight in his chest. He looked into the toilet and...it was red. He flushed the toilet quickly as the color made him nauseous again not to mention he didn’t even have a chance to eat. It was nothing but bile. Angel sat back. He couldn’t even bring himself to try to speak to himself. So he sat on the floor, trembling....crying. The silence in the house was loud. He has to get out of here.

Angel quickly got up in a panic and washed his face and brushed his teeth, wanting to get that awful taste of bile off his tongue. After he packed his backpack with survival tools and some basic needs to help him out...there...I mean there was just more than one man chasing after him...

He wasted no time leaving after, wiping whatever tears were left on his face, God, he hated looking vulnerable I mean he was already enough..

“I’m never taking a fucking nap again...not until the exhaustion comes over me...”

Angel made the trek to Fall’s End. And though it wasn’t a long hike, it was quiet...almost too quiet.

“Hey-“

Angel reached for his hun and aimed at the sudden greeting

“Woah! Hey now! It’s just me Angel Mary May spoke softly

Angel lowered his weapon quickly in shock ‘I could’ve killed her for Christ sake’ he thought

“You okay love? You seem...different? On edge..?” she spoke with a tone that was almost a comforting as Missy, Bless her heart if she’s still out there

Angel tried to get the words out “....I......uhm...y-yea....kind of...just had a nightmare...no big deal...” he manage to put on a smile that could fool a careless man. But Mary saw right through it.

“Look I know you probably don’t wanna talk about whatever is going on with you bit don’t try to fool me with a smile m’kay” Mary scolded Angel a bit and started walking forward to Fall’s End

“Okay mom” Angel huffed out a laugh “Funny seeing you out here huh” Angel followed after her like a little duckling

“Funny seeing me out here? It’s noon Angel! Did you oversleep again?” Mary looked at Angel teasing him a bit

“Very funny. I was up earlier but was still tired from yesterday so I took a nap......unfortunately it didn’t work out in my...uhm....favor” Angel cleared his throat

“Well why don’t you tell me all about it?” Mary asked curiously

‘This is gonna be a common thing huh...’ Angel thought before breathing out “Where do I start?”

Tagging:

@mrspaigeomega @mrsladydiana @oorah22 @minilev @lilwritingraven @scungilliwoman

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

➜ Words: 2.2k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

“In this recipe, we’re using baking soda instead of baking powder. Why? Does anyone remember the reason when we talked about our recipe of mille-feuille?”   You’re twirling your pen in your hand, bored out of your mind while someone answers that baking soda doesn’t have the acid that baking powder would normally add and how baking soda has much stronger leavening power than baking powder.   Theory has never been your area of expertise. You’ve always preferred to do the actual baking and go through trial and error than learning through the textbook. So with your mind wandering and from fear of falling asleep, you pull out your phone to text Seokjin. He’s been answering your texts slower these days.   “Alright, next class we’ll put our hands to work in the kitchen. Don’t pack up yet! I got some emails asking about the midterm so I just wanted to answer those questions here! Yes, it will be a collaborative exam and you can re-make anything that we’ve learned thus far in the semester. Baking is all about working together, so before I leave, I’ll post who everyone’s partners are. Come down and take a look before you go.”   With the lecture finished, you pack up your belongings, shoving it all into your bag and swinging the strap over your shoulder to walk down the steps. It’s crowded already, but as people filter out, you’re able to get ahead to look at the paper.   And as luck would have — you’re partnered with Jeon Jungkook.   It’s outrageous. As if having the same internship for three months wasn’t enough, now he’s your midterm partner.   You spin around to the teacher, beelining straight to him. But Jeon Jungkook beats you to it.   “Is there a possible way I can switch my partner?”   “I second that.” For once, you back him up. It’s probably the only thing you can agree on.   Jungkook looks to you before redirecting his attention back at the man who has his brow quirked. “Is there a legitimate reason?”   “Umm….”   “Our schedules don’t align,” Jungkook lies without batting a lash.   “Yeah.” You nod. “He has classes when I don’t and uh, he’s working on different projects when I have work….”   “It would be more convenient if we had different partners.”   “Wow, you two figured out you have incompatible schedules a minute into finding out you’re partners? Well, I’m sure you two can work something out.” Mr. Chu smiles, overly positive in a way that irks you. “Things have a way of working themselves out.”   In these circumstances, you’re not too sure about that.   Jungkook swallows hard, finding whatever excuse he can. “I’m afraid Y/N won’t pull her weight.”   “Excuse me?!” You can’t believe he blatantly threw you under the bus in front of your face. “That’s completely untrue! He won’t be able to pull his weight.”   “We’re just incompatible partners.” Jungkook outright ignores you. “I am happy to work with anyone, Mr. Chu. Just not her. Park Jimin said he would be fine to switch his partner and work with me.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder to his timid friend standing near the door who realizes he’s being talked about and gives a polite wave.   Yet, the teacher gives a long sigh. “Look, you two. I know there’s bad blood between you both but wouldn’t this be a great opportunity to overcome that like the adults that you are?”   “I—”   “Mr. Chu—”   “I’m sorry, but there won’t be any switching.” He shakes his head. “Often times, you can’t choose who you work with in the real world. You just have to get over it and be professional. Learn a two or thing from that. That’s the point of this midterm. If there are concerns about the project, then you can visit my office hours. Otherwise, you’ll be working together and that’s final.”   It’s official. You hate your fine pastries class — and it used to be your favourite too.   “Fuck. Fuck,” he’s muttering, kicking the gravel from underneath his feet. You approach him with crossed arms.   “You don’t have to keep saying it.”   “What? That this fucking sucks?”   “Look, I don’t like you anymore than you like me. You don’t have to make it harder than it needs to be.”   “Oh yeah? You want to make it less hard? How about you stop existing then.”   “Okay, fuck you, Johnson. Stop pouting like you’re fucking four years old. Are we going to talk about the project or do you want to flunk?”   “Stop calling me Johnson.”   “Or else what?”   Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You’re so childish.”   “I’m the childish one?” you scoff in disbelief. “I’m not the one practically throwing a tantrum.”   “Whatever. But what’s there to talk about? We’ll make carrot cake.”   “What the hell?” You’re appalled. He’s not even going to ask you? “No, we’ll make the charlotte royale.”   “No, you idiot.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.   You scoff again. This was absolutely unbelievable. It’s a shame that no one’s listening into this conversation — there’s no way you would be able to retell just how absurd this was. “Did you just call me an idiot?”   “Yes, carrot’s the easiest. We’ll get it done and over with.”   “I don’t want to get it done and over with.” You point right at him. “Unlike you, I care about my grades, okay? So what if it’s easy? It won’t get us the marks we need.”   “Since when did you care about your grades?”   “Okay, fuck off, Jeon.”   Having enough of him, you decide to walk away but Jungkook soon calls out after you. “Are you going to give me your phone number?”   You’re horrified enough to spin around and regard him with a disgusted expression. “What? No!”   “For the project, you dumbass. You think I’m asking because I want to know?”   You roll your eyes to the back of your skull and close the distance with three strides again. Surprisingly, the both of you civilly exchange contact information without ripping each other’s heads off but you don’t want to be with him longer than you need to. “When are we going to meet up? We should decide so I don’t have to text you.”   “I’m fine with whenever.”   “Tomorrow then.”   “Sure.”   You leave already texting Jin your grievances. He doesn’t answer since he’s so busy, but you’re ready to unload.   //   The next day comes too quickly.   The first person you see in the morning is the last person you ever want to see — and Jungkook isn’t amused either. He regards you with a lazy gaze, dark circles, oversized black hoodie and jeans that he probably picked up off his floor and put on after giving a good sniff.   Other partners are already in the kitchen figuring out their recipes, but you have yet to decide what to make. You swear the asshat is just disagreeing with you to make it harder and more miserable.   “What don’t you understand? What you’re asking for is too unreasonable.”   “Really? You think whipping meringue by hand is too difficult? Maybe you shouldn’t be baking then, Jeon.”   “It’s time consuming,” he groans and rubs his temple. “And it’s not worth it. If you want to spend your time doing something impressive than we should make something like fucking I don’t know, Napoleon cake and call it a day.”   “Okay, sounds good to me.”   “What? Actually?”   “I don’t see why not. You can make the puff pastry while I make the custard. We assemble together.”   “You make it sound easier than it’ll be, but fine. We can meet up tonight. What, don’t give me that look. It’s not like you’re busy. And spending time with your boyfriend doesn’t constitute as being busy. The sooner we get this done, the sooner it’s over.”   “Fine. How about eight?”   “Seven thirty. See you then.”   You’re exasperated. He’s a jerk. And you go on your way while shaking your head.   8:21 am. Y/N: still cant believe my luck   5:43 pm. Seokjin: Hey where are you?  5:44 pm. Seokjin: We should meet

Jungkook lives his life precariously. He is flexible and follows his instincts. That’s not to say he’s irresponsible, reckless or that he’s fickle. He’s adaptable and it’s the reason why he started baking anyways — a whim that he fell in love with. 

  Jungkook prefers to go with his gut feeling than plan every step of the way. And it’s his gut feeling that tells him you’re nothing but an absolute headache.   “Let me suck on your muffin.”   Yoongi’s expression dies, washing over into an impassive state. “Say that again, Kim, and I’ll never bring my extra muffins again.” Taehyung whines on the couch while Jimin laughs. Yoongi looks over at Jungkook. “Hey, want one, Kook?”   He tosses him a blueberry muffin anyhow but Jungkook chucks it at Hoseok who catches it in both hands, almost missing. “Nah. What time is it? I gotta go.”   “Where are you going on a Friday night at seven?”   “Ooh, it’s a date, isn’t it?” Taehyung grins. “What kind of girl?”   “Who is it?” Hoseok clarifies the question, cheek full of muffin. “I haven’t heard you talk about anyone ever.”   “He wishes.” Jimin giggles, have an inkling of where it was he was going.   “it’s not a date, dumbass. I have a meeting with my midterm project partner.”   “Damn,” Yoongi comments, biting into the muffin he baked earlier in class. “That’s rough.”   “His partner’s Y/N,” Jimin says with a sparkle in his eye, watching Jungkook get up from the couch.   Taehyung’s eyes bulge. They nearly fall out of their sockets and he wheezes, pounding his chest as part of the muffin stuck in his gullet. “You’re partners with that psycho bitch?”   “Yeah.” The youngest of all of them sighs. “I couldn’t change.”   Jungkook walks past, but Yoongi stops him, plopping a hand on his shoulder. The usually cold man seems sympathetic for once and holds up his muffin. “Are you sure you don’t want one?”   He dreads it — having to ditch his friends on a Friday night and the warmth of his dorm room. All in exchange for the chilly wind outside and the empty kitchens that’re eerie without souls inside them, just metal bowls and silver appliances. But Jungkook drags himself there anyway.    He’s ten minutes early since he’s not one to leave people waiting.    But when seven thirty eventually rolls around, you’re nowhere in sight.   7:34 pm. Jungkook: Are you coming or not   He waits for an additional twenty minutes, sitting on the stool, playing games on his phone. Then he realizes the time and gets started anyhow. The puff pastry always takes longer to make anyways. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t frustrated — Jungkook’s frankly pissed off and if you decided to ditch him, you’ll have one or two things coming, that’s for sure.   Jungkook beats two ounces of butter with a tablespoon of sugar. Then he folds in two beaten eggs, one tablespoon vinegar, cold water, three tablespoons of vodka, and salt. He folds in the two and a half cups of flour and forms a dough in his hands until it’s soft and pliable.    Right when he wraps the bowl in plastic and slides it into the fridge to chill for an hour, the door to the kitchen opens.   “You’re late.”   You’re not even dressed in an apron nor is your hair tied back like it’s supposed to be but he doesn’t comment.   “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you? It’s been an hour and I’m done my part.”   Silence.   You don’t respond. Jungkook scoffs.   It was a new low for you to give him the silent treatment when you’re the late one. Your head is downcasted, facing away from him, giving him the cold shoulder. You don’t spare him one glance as you go over to the fridge, pulling out eggs, sugar, flour, milk, vanilla beans, and butter.   You pour milk into the saucepan haphazardly and it splashes everywhere on the counter.   “Hey, watch it!”    Jungkook rips the carton away from your hands. He didn’t know you were this much of an amateur.   He watches you in mortification as you move to the flour bag, scooping out a whole cup instead of six tablespoons. He wonders if you had a stroke. “Y/N, you’re supposed to do the eggs next. What the hell is wrong with—”   You burst into tears.    Jungkook’s heart stutters. He pales. He freezes in place. He feels his entire body go rigid.    And his brain breaks.   …..   What.   Tears. Full on tears are streaming down your face. You’re wailing, covering your face with your floured hands and crying into them. Your entire frame shakes as devastation wrecks through your entire body. He’s never seen you look so small before. He’s never seen you cry.   Jungkook puts milk down, swallowing hard. He watches you with eyes as big as saucers. “I...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”   You sob. “J-Jin brok..e up w-with m...e.”

[maysbanks]

hypersonic missiles. (jj maybank)

hello ! some of you may recognise this fic and that’s bc it’s currently being rewritten as an oc fic rather than a reader insert fic which it was before. i can’t wait for you to read this and introduce you all to haley who i love dearly, so pls enjoy and lemme know what you think !!

warnings: swearing, mention of sex, sexual innuendos, drug use, underage drinking, violence etc

summary: after the death of her father, haley grubbs is determined to get the answers her mother seems to be keeping from her, seeking help from a group of pogues (which just happens to include her weekly hook-up) and unknowingly throwing herself into the midst of a treasure hunt.

( gif isn't mine! please let me know if it's yours so i can credit you. )

The gang gathered around John B's porch, spaced out in various positions amongst the furniture. Silence engulfed the group, the air thick with tension as none of the four teenagers dared to speak.

"JJ should be the one to go." Kie broke the silence, her words hanging in the air as the group processed them.

Said boy whipped around in his place, golden hair falling in his sea blue eyes as they widened, glancing wildly between each of his friends. "What?" He demanded. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one that's hooking up with her," Pope reminded, matter of fact. As if JJ needed to be reminded. The dark skinned boy gestured between him and the remaining two. "She's gonna trust you more than any of us."

Kiara and John B murmured their agreement, JJ scoffing as he flapped his arms, beginning to pace in his spot. "This is ridiculous," he muttered between gritted teeth. "She won't wanna talk to me any more than she'll want to talk to you guys. I mean, we've only hooked up like," JJ paused - raising a hand to count on his fingers. "Maybe like, eleven times, twelve at a push!"

Kiara scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Wow, how chivalrous of you to keep count, JJ," she drawled sarcastically, the blonde boy simply shrugging in return as he took his formal position of leaning against the Chateau's wall. "Look, the thing is you know her better than the rest of us. You're familiar, we're not. We can't just go up to her and start asking questions about her dead dad and John B's compass."

JJ stared in disbelief. "And you think I can?" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know if you guys realise this, but hooking up doesn't really require much talking. I barely know her."

"But you know her enough to warm her bed every week," John B piped up, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. JJ sighed, lighting a fresh blunt as he refused to meet any of the gang's eyes, staring ahead. John B stepped over and beside the blonde, arm thrown over his shoulder. "We need answers, JJ. Answers she could have. I mean, it was her dad right? She must know something about why he had my dad's compass."

JJ nodded along, but the uncertain feeling bubbling in his chest didn't cease. Thoughts of the two men that had chased the group the day before, guns blazing, entered his mind. Then the memory of him and John B showing up at the Grubbs' residence, only to discover they had been beaten to it by the very same men - he'd heard them threaten Lana and Haley Grubbs, demanding questions about the same compass that lay heavy in John B's pockets. He knew his best friend deserved answers, why did Scooter Grubbs have Big John's compass the night he died? Why was Scooter Grubbs out in the storm that night anyway? Hell, even JJ wanted answers. But he couldn't shake the doubtful feeling, thoughts of Haley Grubbs swirling in his head.

"I don't think this is a good idea." He tried once more, voice small and defeated. The Pogues shared a glance, and he knew they'd already come to a decision. Sighing, he flicked the butt of his blunt, sending it flying in the opposite direction. "Fine, I'll go talk to her. But I'm not making any promises that she'll talk," he frowned. "Sometimes I kinda get the feeling she doesn't like me."

Kie snorted. "I wonder why."

What the gang hadn't bargained for, however, was that the same person who'd they been talking about was already on their way to them - boots stomping across the ground in a determined stride, their mind a whirlwind of series of memories, scenarios, and all the events that had happened in the last twenty four hours.

Haley wanted answers, and she wanted them soon. (Sooner rather than later, if she was being precise.) The series of misfortunes events had all begun with the disappearance of her father - for whatever reason, he'd gone out in the storm that raged against the Outer Banks the night prior, and that, unsurprisingly, had led to his death. Memories of his body, washed up on the shore, cold and blue, eyes open but completely lifeless as they stared up at nothing and everything at the same time. Her heart wrenched at the sight, and she still hadn't been able to get the scene out of your head - her mother breaking down in a heap of sobs, Haley’s body following along with her as the pair both held each other and cried, Sheriff Peterkin's voice echoing in Haley’s mind, over and over again, like a siren. “I'm so sorry. There's nothing we could have done."

Haley knew that, of course. But it didn't explain why he was out in the storm in the first place. She had tried to question her mother, because she knew her dad wasn't a fool. Storm Agatha had been reported for weeks following up to it, he'd even made off-handed comments about it over dinner a couple of times. Her dad was aware about the storm, but had still risked his life (and coincidentally, ended it) to take a boat ride, or so that's what her mother told you.

Bull-fucking-shit. Haley knew there was more to the story, the appearance of two men breaking down her door and trashing her whole house was enough proof of that. And the fact that they were asking about a compass, of all things, didn't sit right in Haley’s gut either. Why the hell would two thugs want a compass, and why would her dad have it anyway? To her knowledge, her dad had never owned a compass in his damned life. (He also never owned a boat, which raised the suspicion of how the hell had he even gone out on a boat ride in the first place.) But the pair were persistent, and she was forced to watch as they threatened her and her mom, their last words sticking with her, sending a shiver of dread up her spine every time they echoed in her head; “We'll be back."

It was something straight out of a king-pin movie, and yet Lana Grubbs still wouldn't talk. She knew something, Haley knew it, and why she wouldn't share whatever information she knew with Haley was beyond frustrating - so she decided, fuck it. If her mother wasn't gonna give her her answers, then she was gonna go out and find them herself. Starting with John B. Routledge.

As if things couldn't have gotten any weirder, the teenaged boy had shown up not a minute after the two guys had left, appearing in Haley’s not-so-much of a doorway with the exact thing the thugs were after: the Compass. To her chargin, she hadn't had time to ask any questions though, her mother was quick to dismiss him (and JJ Maybank of all people, but she didn't really want to think about him at the moment) and warned him not to let anyone know that he had the compass, and Haley could see why - those guys were not to be messed with.

And so, John B. Routledge had left the Grubbs’ home, JJ Maybank in tow, and Haley was left to clean up the mess the bastards had left behind them. Her mothers warning rang in her ears; "Stay away from them boys. Do not get involved in this, Hales.” But alas, there she was, storming towards the property she knew the guys would be. Her mother didn't know, of course, and she was determined to make sure Lana never did. (Haley would be the next person she'd be burying if she ever did find it.)

All Haley wanted was answers, and if John B had even a couple, she was going to find them out. Her father had died, and there was more to the story than anyone was letting on. If it was up to her to piece the puzzle together, then so be it. She would, gladly.

So she marched in the direction of the Routledge residence, more determined than ever. As she walked, people gave her pitying looks, obviously recognising her as Scooter Grubbs’ daughter (the newfound bastard of the Outer Banks, sarcasm intended.) and she simply ignored each and every one of them. She didn’t need them, she thought. She was going to find out the truth, and each step Haley took she was closer to uncovering it all. Some people walked towards her as if to stop and talk, probably attempting to give her some kind of condolence, but each time a person did she hurried her pace; she couldn’t be stopped now, she was too close to getting where she wanted to be for some middle-aged folk tell her they were sorry about her loss, even though they couldn’t have cared less about her dad when he was alive.

Fucking bullshit, she thought.

Haley’s stride slowed however, when a familiar looking van made it's way into her vision, memories of it parked outside the very same house she was planning on going running through her already overactive mind. Her stomach churned, thinking she had missed her chance to interrogate the poor unsuspecting boy, before it seemed to slow down and pulled up to right where she was standing on the curb. Her respectively plucked eyebrows raised as the window rolled down, revealing none other than John B sat in the drivers seat, Kiara Carrera in the passenger, and Pope Heyward's and JJ's heads peering around the pair from the back of the van.

John B leaned out, his mop of wavy brown hair entering Haley’s brown eyed gaze, tight smile on his lips. "Haley,” he greeted. “Hey, where are you off to? Need a ride?"

"Actually," Haley drawled as she stepped closer, right arm leaning on the window as she sent a forced smile the teenaged boys way. “I was just heading over to yours. What a coincidence, huh?"

She never missed the look Kiara shot the two guys seated in the back, all of their eyes seemingly communicating in their own weird little telepathical way. John B blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water for a few seconds before he seemed to compose himself, clearing his throat. "Oh, really?" He asked, as naturally as he could. (It wasn't very natural at all.) “How, uh, how come?"

"Oh, you know," Haley started, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly. "Just thought I'd pay you a visit, y'know, like the one you paid me this morning. Remember that?" She asked as innocently as she could manage. (It wasn't very innocent at all.) “Just wanted to ask you a few questions, s'all. Like why you have the one thing those meatheads that trashed my house were after. How you got hold of it, stuff like that."

And then she smiled like they were all sharing a perfectly civil conversation, as if the underlying threatening tone in her voice didn't exist at all. John B sighed, his head turning towards the rest of the group, catching their eyes and seeming to have another one of their telepathic conversations before he turned back to her figure, his head nodding towards the back of his infamous Volkswagen.

"Get in the back," he said - and she did, shooting him a smile that resembled one of a Cheshire Cat, satisfied as she moved to the other side, walking around the van and hearing him mutter from inside, "What? This is the perfect opportunity to ask her." She didn't need to look to know the rest of the gang were probably objecting her presence, but she couldn't care less. This was just the first step to getting what she wanted.

The door to the van was pulled open from the inside, JJ's head popping out and thrusting a hand out towards her to help her climb into the vehicle. Haley swiftly ignored the gesture, missing the flash of confusion and offence that appeared on the blonde's face, climbing into the van and seating herself beside Pope who smiled rather awkwardly toward her.

"I'm, uh, sorry about your dad," he said softly, fidgeting under her gaze. She smiled slightly at him in return, lips quirking more so in amusement at his obvious discomfort at either having her join them, or her being seated so close to him.

"Yeah, me too," Kiara piped up from the passenger seat, glancing over her shoulder towards her. "It must really suck, to just lose him like that."

Haley nodded, head turning in the direction of where JJ sat across from her, rubbing the back of his head as he muttered quietly, "Yeah, I'm sorry too." before averting his eyes when she looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

Kiara ignored him, the awkward silence that presented itself to the pedestrians inside the van only lasting a couple of seconds as she spoke up again. "I can't imagine what you and your mom are going through," she said, soft brown eyes darting to John B quickly before they returned to catch Haley’s once more. "We're always here if you need anything. Pogue's look out for each other, right?"

Haley forced a small smile, not bothering to bring up the fact that Kiara was technically not a Pogue, seeing no point in the matter as she sent her a small nod of appreciation, silently grateful for her words. Haley had always liked Kiara, or Kie, as she was more commonly known as. She had spent many times sat around a fire with her, listening to her rants about the environment and what everyone could do to help it, as an infamous Pogue kegger loomed around them. Haley was grateful for her presence amongst the guys, unsure of the fact that if she wasn't there, she probably wouldn't have entered the van. She was determined, but she also wasn’t stupid. Despite knowing the guys well and practically all her life, (it’s a small town kinda thing), she would never willingly get in a van with them and let them drive her to an unknown destination. Which reminded her suddenly - where the hell were they going?

"We're lucky we got each other, I guess," Haley said in relation to Kie's words. Kie nodded as her eyes darted to John B again. "But thanks, I really appreciate it." She fiddled with the hem of her faded out jean shorts, her next words directed towards John B. "So, care to tell me where we're going? Or better yet, why you have the damned compass my house was trashed for."

Silence filled the air of the Volkswagen. It was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken tension as everybody refused to meet her eyes. Haley was beyond frustrated, incredibly so, and she made a point to catch John B's eyes in the rearview mirror, an eyebrow quirking as she awaited an answer.

Finally, he sighed.

"The compass was my dads," John B revealed. Haley’s mouth opened in shock for a second before she clamped it back shut. "And for whatever reason, your dad had it. We uh, we found it at the wreck of your dads boat yesterday."

"Wait, what?" She demanded, blinking. She glanced between the gang, eyes accusing as she held each of theirs. "You guys found the wreck? And you didn't tell anyone?" She questioned, tone dangerously low. "And you stole from it?"

"It's not technically stealing if it was his compass," JJ defended, shrugging. Haley shot him a glare, feeling a bubble of irritation build deep in her gut. "And anyways, we tried to tell the coastguard about it after we first found it, but the guy was having none of it. They were hounded with the storm."

Her eyes narrowed. "First found it? Exactly how many times have you guys been at the wreck?" She demanded, tone accusatory.

The gang all swivelled to send JJ their own respected glares, Pope's voice small from beside her as he tried to explain. "Only a couple," he started, startling as her head whipped around towards him. "We're really sorry, okay! We didn't know it was your dads when we first found it, if we did, we wouldn't have snooped in his room either!"

Pope seemed to make note of his mistake as the rest of the gang did, Kie letting out a little frustrated groan from the back of her throat as JJ cringed, pointedly avoiding Haley’s gaze. John B's hands gripped the steering wheel tight, a warning "Pope" leaving his mouth.

Haley laughed, though it held no humour. She clasped her hands together, the slap of her palms meeting echoing in the confine space. "Let me get this straight, you guys not only found the wreck of my dads boat and didn't tell anyone about it, but also obviously found where he was staying and snooped in his room," she listed, feeling the familiar build of rage pulse through her body. “I mean, what the fuck you guys?"

"We're sorry," Kiara turned in her seat, meeting the Grubbs’ girl angered gaze. "We swear, if we had any idea it was your dad we wouldn't have. We were just, curious, I guess. We found the key on the boat when Pope first spotted it in the marsh, and before we even snooped we tried to tell the coastguard, but like JJ said, they weren't interested. So, John B and JJ went to look in the room."

Haley sighed heavily, leaning her head back to rest against the wall of the van. She tried to tell herself to calm down - hell, she probably would have done the same thing if it was her in their position, she couldn't get mad at them over that. "And did you guys find anything?" She asked quietly, the gang seemingly relaxing as they recognised her calmer tone of voice.

"Did we find anything?" JJ snorted as he repeated her words, grin falling from his lips at the glares the rest of his friends shot him. Haley sat up straighter, taking note of their warning glances. JJ awkwardly coughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he once again avoided her honey coated eyes. "Uh, not really."

"Not really?" She asked, frown on her plump lips. JJ nodded, tongue darting out to wet his pink lips, uncharacteristically quiet once more. "Okay, what the hell is going on? And no more bullshitting me, I've had enough of that from everyone else for the past forty eight hours. I came to you for answers, I'm not going anywhere without them."

She looked to John B then, hoping, pleading, that he would understand. He'd lost his dad too, nine months ago, supposedly lost at sea, believed to be dead. Haley knew he never believed that though, refusing to agree that his father was dead, insisting that he was simply missing. If there was one person that could understand her need to know about her dad, it was John B. And he knew it too, as he sighed and nodded.

"There was a safe," he started as she listened intently. "There was money inside it, I don't know how much. The cops kinda showed up when we were in there," he admitted sheepishly. "We had to hide before we could count it or anything. But there was also, um, a gun in the safe too."

"A gun?" Haley deadpanned. John B raised his eyes and caught hers, nodding. Haley scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through her almost waist length hair. "Why the hell would my dad have a gun?"

"Um, there's something else you should probably know," JJ blurted. "I kinda, uh, took it."

The Pogues glared at him again, Kie spitting a warning of his name, but the blonde just looked at the girl seated in front of him. Her eyes widened as he brandished the piece of metal, black in colour and daunting in shape. Of fucking course JJ Maybank had stolen her dads gun, she thought. It was so... JJ.

"You stole that from a crime scene?" She sputtered, heart squeezing uncomfortably in her chest as she eyed the object with disdain. JJ nodded, looking almost guilty. "My dads crime scene? What the fuck JJ? Do you realise how much trouble you could get into from taking that? For having that?"

Haley was unsure as to why she seemed to care so much about that, rather than the fact that he'd taken it from her dads motel room, and that the gun was technically her fathers. She didn't want to ponder too much about that, though, there was bigger fish to fry in that moment.

"Sorry," he said, rather dumbly. "You can have it, if you want?"

She stared at him incredulously as he held the gun out towards her, quickly shoving it away from her body as she shook her head forcefully. "What the fuck would I want with a gun, JJ?" Haley demanded. The blonde boy shrugged, suddenly sheepish.

"It was your dads," he stated simply. From the corner of her vision she could see Pope sending him a wild look, brown eyes blown wide as he tried to be subtle and shake his head at his friend, silently warning him to shut the hell up, or so she presumed. "I just thought, y'know-"

"You thought wrong, JJ," Haley interrupted him before he could continue. His eyebrows furrowed as he noted her hostile tone, but let it go as he simply nodded, swallowing thickly when she turned away from him. “So, what happened, after the motel room?"

John B looked glad to be back on the original topic. "Well, it wasn't long after that we found it was your dad. We were gonna tell the police, but uh, we had this crazy idea that there might have been more on the boat, like money or something? I don't know, we just thought-"

"Your dad might've been a straight smuggler," Pope piped up. Haley’s glare made him shrink in his spot. "Sorry, sorry. Not the time, I get it."

"Right," John B said curtly as Kie groaned softly. "So we went to look again, and I found a duffel bag. The marsh was closed, obviously. But we weren't the only ones out there," his voice turned deadly serious. “After I got it, these two guys appeared on a boat. The same two guys that were at your place earlier."

Haley exhaled shakily at the information, memories of the two men entering her mind unwelcoming. The image of them carelessly tearing apart her house, screaming threats at her and her mother, gun held to her temple as their fists left holes in the walls and bruises on her mothers skin. She shuddered and hoped the rest of the gang hadn't noticed, but she could see the pity in John B's eyes as they reconnected with her own.

"They chased after us, and they were shooting at us too. We managed to escape them, and when we got back on land I looked in the bag, and all that was in it was the compass. My dads compass. It's a Routledge family heirloom, and your dad had it."

His tone held accusatory, though she couldn't blame him for it. It was a mystery to even her as to why or how her father had gotten hold of the compass, and she knew John B wanted answers just as much as she did. Haley felt almost guilty that she couldn't give him any as she spoke up, “I didn't know anything about it, I swear. The first time I've even heard of it was today when those guys showed up. I'm sorry, John B."

Said boy nodded, seemingly believing her as he sent a small smile her way, reassuring her. “Anyways, that's why me and JJ went to your place, I just wanted to know if maybe you or your mom knew anything about it or why your dad had it," he shrugged a shoulder, trying to come off as non-chalant. "And that's when we saw those guys again. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

She shrugged too, an expression of what-you-gonna-do on her face. Though she desperately wanted to know more about the compass, and why it could be so important to the thugs, she withheld her questions for the moment, deciding they could come later.

"And then they arrived at mine," John B revealed. Haley’s yes widened in surprise at the sudden revelation, churning of fear twisting at her gut. "They did the exact same at my place that they did to yours; tore the whole place apart, looking the compass I guess."

JJ burst then - Haley jumped as his voice echoed in the van, much more louder than what John B's had been, excitement lacing his tone as he began to recite the story of the two thugs and their mission of tearing John B's poor beloved Chateau apart, hands gesturing wildly around him.

"Yeah, they were fucking crazy man! We were all locked in Big John's office, no way out apart from the window that was fucking painted shut. We could hear them, taunting us, y'know. Like, 'you better not be in there', they even knew John B's name!" JJ rambled, excitable expression painted on his boyish features. "They come in, guns-a-blazing and we're all tryna figure out how the hell to get out of there, before we finally manage to open the window and hide in the fucking chicken coop of all places. It was fucking insane, man. I had to kill a hen just so we could make it out alive."

Haley blinked at that, her jaw dropping slightly as she tried to process all the information he'd thrown at her all within a minute. JJ calmed down from his passionate retale, chest heaving slightly as he took in her dazed expression, sea blue eyes catching hers and holding them. Kiara said his name in a warning tone from the passenger seat, and he snapped out of his stare-off with the olive skinned girl, but she was still looking at him in disbelief.

"That's basically it," John B said from the front of the van, though his face held a slight grimace at his best friends rather dramatic recite. "But yeah, they practically stripped my dads office bare. They took everything, all of his books, research, everything about the Royal Merchant."

If anybody had noticed her sudden stiff posture at the mention of the Merchant, they never spoke on it. The Royal Merchant. Something Haley was all too familiar with. It had been something of a fascination to her father for a while, especially in the weeks leading up to his death. She just thought it was a weird hobby, a strange interest of his that she never really thought much of. It was nice to see her dad passionate about something, she’d thought. No matter how strange she believed it to be, he had a hobby and she was happy for him. But, sitting in the back of John B. Routledge's van, surrounded by a group of teenaged Pogues, one of which she was were all too familiar with, to put it simply, her throat tightened.

Surely the Royal Merchant couldn't have had anything to do with her dad, right? She was just thinking too much, more than likely. But something in the back of her mind was nagging, unforgiving as the thoughts whirled in her head.

"But before the guys showed up, we found something," she focused back her attention as John B continued. "There's something engraved on the compass. Redfield. It's my dads handwriting, he must have put it there for me, before he disappeared."

Haley shared a glance with JJ as John B said the word. Disappeared. Ever the hopeful, yearning boy. She couldn't doubt his wish, she wished for nothing more for her dad to appear back in her life - but she knew that hers was dead, officially. How could she forget, she saw his lifeless eyes every time she closed hers.

But John B didn't have that, he never knew, really, if his father was truly dead or alive. The records said so, but he'd refused to sign them, or so she heard. He was still hopeful, so certain that his dad would just appear back at the Chateau one day, like he'd never disappeared in the first place. But Haley - and many others - were realistic, and the reality was there was very little to no chance that Big John Routledge was alive.

(Her heart broke for the boy.)

She tuned out the rest of the conversation for the remainder of the drive, her head leaning back on the cool metal of the wall as she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander with all the possibilities. Could the Royal Merchant really have been a factor in her dads death? She couldn't shake the feeling, as she could hear vaguely the conversation of the gang. John B insisting that his dad was leading him on a mission, Kiara trying to be supportive but anyone could pick up on the doubt in her voice, Pope piping up with rather unhelpful scenarios like Big John having been kidnapped, (Haley had rolled her eyes), and JJ adding his input, multitasking with rolling a blunt. (She’d rolled her eyes harder.)

The thing was, Haley and the Maybank boy had a little deal going on. She could remember the exact day it had begun, at an infamous Pogue kegger, the sun having set and leaving the sky coloured in perfect hues of pink, purple and yellow. It had been a beautiful night, she had to admit. The party had gone strong to the early hours of the morning, and she’d somehow found herself leaving with JJ Maybank. He'd approached her after she witnessed him striking out with a Touron, (surprisingly), eyes narrowing at her when she’d let out a giggle at his misfortune. He had been hostile at first, demanding what she was laughing at, grinning slightly when she informed him simply 'you'.

The rest of the night had been spent in each others company, and Haley could recall the exact moment where they were dancing closely, bodies pressed tight against each other, her arms thrown over his shoulders and wrapped around his neck, his own around her waist, fingers digging into her hips. Their breath mingled together, his forehead leaning against her own, and she’d expected the moment his lips fell on herd, slightly chapped but impossibly soft against her own as they danced in a passionate embrace that secretly took her breath away. She’d let him lead her to John B's Chateau across the beach, hand gripped in one another’s, as he pressed her to every surface until they managed to stumble their way into the spare bedroom.

She had told herself the next morning that it would only be a one time thing. Haley wasn’t one for random hook-ups, not that no one had tried to coax her into one. She was kinda known amongst the island as being this untouchable, obtainable person that nobody could ever get close to. She wasn’t sure what it was about her that made everyone label her as this being - maybe it was the fact that she was a loner and didn’t stick to one friendship group and spent most of her time to herself, maybe it was the fact that people thought she was weird because her dad was known to be such a loser (God rest his soul), or maybe it was the fact that she skateboarded around town morning till dawn, earphones plugged in and music blasting so loud that passerby’s could hear every word clearly.

The point was, she wasn’t known for getting close to anyone. And yet, she had found herself drifting back to JJ Maybank many other nights after that first one, and that’s where their little deal came into play.

But that's where it began, and also where it ended. Hers and JJ's relationship (if you could even call it that) never went beyond that. Random hook-ups here and there, whenever JJ struck out with a Touron and found himself soughting Haley out amongst the crowd to fill the space in his bed. Of course they were always friendly with each other, they’d known each other for so long, that it would have been silly not to continue being friendly. But they never hung out, not with his group, not with him alone apart from their many nights of endeavours, until now, she supposed. She thought it might have been weird, and she thought correct. Neither of them really looked at each other head-on, the air awkward and thick as the driving continued.

Haley was thankful when John B seemed to finally arrive at his destination, and she leaned forward with Pope to glance out the window, spotting the tall lighthouse stood proud in front of the group. Redfield, the name was written boldly on display.

"Redfield Lighthouse," John B spoke. "My dads favourite place."

She clambered from the van as the rest of the guys did, gazing up at the high building with her hand shielding her eyes from the bright sun from where they all gathered at the clearing. John B turned to face JJ. "Right, you're gonna post up and look out for bogeys, okay?"

JJ's eyebrows furrowed as he demanded, "Wait, why me?" His expression only darkened when Pope informed he wasn't to go in the Lighthouse, Haley watching from the sidelines, unsure where to put herseld in the situation. "Why?" He continued to argue.

Pope grabbed hold of JJ's shoulders. "There are independent and dependent variables, you're an independent variable-" he tried to explain but was quickly cut off as JJ began to yell over his words. "We don't know what you'll do!"

"Shut up!"

Haley awkwardly scuffed her boots on the ground as Kiara sent her a small smile from ahead of the boys, rolling her eyes dramatically when Haley caught them. She smiled at the gesture, once again appreciative of her presence. "Listen to me for a second," John B cut in their argument, stepping forward. "Pope, you stand look out with JJ, okay?" The pair in questioned seemed reluctant, but both nodded at John B's persistent glare. The tall brunette turned to her next, gaze softening immensely when he caught sight of her uncertain posture. "Do you mind keeping an eye out here?"

She shook your head immediately, sending him a reassuring nod. "Yeah, sure. That's fine by me. Heights aren't really my thing anyway," she told him as she looked up at the Lighthouse, nausea hitting at a slight force when she stared at the very top of the building amongst the blue sky. "Yeah, I'm good here."

He nodded back at her, a thankful smile on his lips. "If we split up, we meet back at JJ's house." He spoke, directing the words to the whole group. They all nodded their agreement.

"Great." Kie finalised, shooting Haley one last small smile before her and John B began to walk off, jumping the small fence that blocked their path, their stride quickly entering them into the lighthouse. Haley exhaled as they disappeared into the door, and moved her gaze to return on the two boys she was stuck with.

"I'm gonna work on my merit scholarship essay." Pope informed, before he turned and entered back into the van, leaving her and JJ stood on the outside of it, alone and deadly quiet. She looked at the golden haired boy as he pulled out a happy sack from his pocket, beginning to kick it around with his booted foot.

Haley sighed as she leaned on the passenger side door, her teeth biting down on her watermelon flavoured chapstick covered lip as she stared at the grass beneath her feet, her mind racing. A thud caught her attention and she glanced in the direction of where it had come from, a happy sack laying at her feet. She looked back up to JJ, who sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, sorry about that."

She huffed out a small laugh, bending down and snatching the sack from the floor. "You don't have to apologise to me JJ," she said softly. Throwing the sack back to him, his large hands reached out and cupped it, bringing it back to his chest. “I'm sorry about this, y'know, gatecrashing your friends' little adventure."

JJ's lips quirked, his muscular arm reaching back and throwing the sack into the air, Haley catching it and holding his eyes. "You're not gatecrashing anything," he assured. In the sunlight, his skin cast a golden glow. "And 'sides you deserve to be here. You're looking for just as much answers as John B is."

"I'm not sure about that," Haley told him and threw the sack to him. "I mean, I'm looking for answers, of course. That's why I'm here. But I'm pretty sure John B needs them more than I do," she glanced at the lighthouse momentarily. "I know what happened to my dad, pretty much. He died while being out in the storm, I know that, I just don't know why he was out in the storm or what he was even up to in the weeks leading up to it. John B doesn't even know for sure if his dad is dead or alive." She shuddered at the thought, shaking her head. "He deserves answers way more than me."

JJ nodded, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he paused in throwing the sack back towards her, looking at her small figure thoughtfully. "Do you think they could be connected?" He asked suddenly. Haley stared at him, confusion painted on her face. "Your dads, I mean. Yours and John B's. Do you think they could be connected, like your dads death and JB's dads disappearance?"

She stopped. Could they be, really? She had to admit she thought about it in the van on the journey there, but as quickly as it came it passed. To her knowledge, her dad and Big John didn't really know each other - of course they knew each other, but they didn't mix, or so she believed. But her mind replayed the moment John B mentioned the Royal Merchant, the way her stomach had filled with dread immediately, and she had the sinking feeling that it was very possible that what JJ was hinting at could be true.

"I don't know, maybe," she said instead, not wanting to voice her thoughts. JJ nodded thoughtfully, finally throwing her the sack back. She caught it, and repeated the process back to him again.

"I am sorry, though. About your dad," JJ's voice was soft, careful as he watched her pause, taking in his words. "I was gonna say more before, but with the guys... I know how much he meant to you."

Haley smiled gently, a sudden flutter in her chest alarming her as she nodded appreciatively at his words. "Thank you, JJ," she said quietly, sincerely. "It means a lot."

JJ nodded too, chapped lips pulling into an uncertain half-grin. "And I just wanted to say as well, that uh, I don't want things to be like, weird between us or anything," he stated awkwardly, clearing his throat. Haley almost laughed at the look on his face. "I mean, like, with us hooking up and stuff-"

"It won't be weird," Haley quickly interrupted him, grin overtaking the features of her face despite her better thoughts. "It was just hooking up, right? Not like we're exes or anything. No need to make it weird."

"Right," JJ voiced his agreement. Head full of long blonde locks nodding along at her words, dimples winking at her as they made an appearance in his cheeks when he smiled. "Not making it weird. Here's to that."

She laughed as the happy sack landed in her hands, holding it there as she squinted in the sun, grin cheeky as she gazed at him from her small distance. "Yeah, we'll just have to pretend we've never seen each other naked." She joked as she finally threw him his toy back.

The golden haired boy returned her smile, eyes mischievous as they made a show to glance at her figure from head to toe. "Trust me, I'll have to pretend a lot more beyond that to stay civil."

And before she could even think to voice her thoughts of Fuck, how did that almost kinda turn you on, a sudden and loud blare of a familiar siren startled, Haley’s and JJ's eyes widening as they met, a panicked expression matching in their features.

"Shit!" Haley uttered as JJ dropped the happy sack, her head turning to catch sight of the impending police car making its way towards where they were parked. She quickly glanced to the lighthouse, her heart dropping when she saw no sign of John B or Kiara, JJ grabbing her by the arm suddenly and practically dragging her into the van in the passenger seat, him running to occupy the drivers as Pope's head popped up between the seats, questioning them both erratically. She could give him no answers however, having no idea what had prompted the police to arrive. Haley had no time to think about what could have happened as JJ slammed his foot down, peeling out of the grassy area and away from the scene. "What about John B and Kie?"

"They'll be fine," JJ assured her, though they were empty words. He had no clue what had happened either, or if his friends would make it out and away from the lighthouse in time, but he still reached over and squeezed Haley’s knee gently when he saw her worried look. He caught her gaze and held it. "They'll be fine."

She could only hope that was true.

It was hours later when Haley and the Pogues gathered around John B's kitchen table, deadly silent as everyone processed what had just transpired.

She’d had JJ and Pope drop her off at home after escaping the police at the lighthouse, aware that she had been gone a long while and her mother was probably sick with worry by that point. If she wasn’t home within the hour, Haley had no doubt that she would have the police patrolling the streets, searching for her. When she toldthe boys this, they chuckled as she ordered them to park around the corner from her home, not wanting her mother to spot her leaving the van. She’d told them to call her when they heard from either John or Kiara, and they'd both agreed as she climbed from the van and walked the familiar path to her house.

Sure enough, Lana practically collapsed into her when she’d entered. Her arms were wrapped around Haley so tightly as they squeezed all the air out of her lungs, her mothers voice in her ear a jumbled mess of words laced in a frantic tone. Haley assured her she was fine, that no harm was done, and that she had just gone for a walk around the Outer Banks. Lana seemed hesitant, but had allowed Haley to ease her worries as she led her towards the couch and sat her down, letting her mom hold her for as long as she needed to assure her mind that she were really okay.

Haley felt almost bad, seeing her in such a panicked state. But then she remembered if she had just answered her questions truthfully instead of hiding everything from her than she wouldn't be sneaking around in the first place. And then the guilt subsided, if only a little. (Haley still felt awful.)

It was a couple of hours after that when a knock had sounded on her bedroom window. She had startled, her heart racing as she wondered who the hell could be knocking on her window, at night, too. She almost very nearly didn't go towards it, in fear of the two faces of the men from earlier that day greeting her, but she’d exhaled a sigh of relief when her eyes landed on the face of JJ Maybank.

"Care for a late night drive?" He'd asked, and she’d rolled her eyes. His grin never faltered as he watched her put on her boots, checking in on her mother and determining if the coast was clear to sneak out, before she’d climbed from her window, thankful that the house was only one story as she did so. Despite that fact, JJ's hands still gripped her hips as he helped her (though he didn't have to) down from the window.

She’d felt instant relief when she spotted Kiara and John B sat in the van, having resumed their earlier positions. Kie grinned at her as she got in the back along with JJ and Pope, who smiled at her also, as Haley began to question the both of them on what had happened after they’d fled the scene.

They'd been caught, of course. But they'd also been released, and that was the main thing. Haley decided to focus on the positives as John B drove them all off, this time to a cemetery of all places - leading the way towards a specific grave that he informed them all was his great-great grandmother, Olivia Redfield. Her maiden name, apparently.

And of fucking course inside that crypt was a white FedEx envelope, addressed to Bird, which they would later discover was actually John B's nickname given to him by his dad, who'd actually left the envelope there - hoping one day that his son would find it. (Because of fucking course Big John would do that.)

The pieces to the puzzle were all coming together, bit by it, slowly but surely. They’d all returned to the Chateau upon the discovery of the envelope, which contained a map, the sight very familiar. (The Royal Merchant, of fucking course it was.) And there was a very obvious X displayed on it too, X marks the spot. Along with that, a tape recorder fell into the palm of John B's hand.

"Dear Bird," the voice had started, vaguely familiar to Haley’s ears. There was no question as to who the voice belonged to - Big John Routledge was speaking directly into the room, all five teenagers gathered around listening intently. "I didn't expect to find the Merchant either."

Haley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, her breath catching in her throat as she glanced at JJ who was beside her, his own face a perfect replica of confusion and amazement.

"There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If something happens to me, finish what I started." Big John's voice continued to fill the deafening silence of the room. "Go for the gold, kid. I love you, Bird, even if I didn't always act like it. I'll see you on the other side."

The recorder clicked off after that, once again silence engulfing the room. Haley felt her stomach churn, her heartbeat to quicken, her palms beginning to sweat. She couldn't believe it. Big John Routledge had gone and found the Royal Merchant. The Royal Merchant, of which her own father had spent months obsessing over. The Royal Merchant, as in the ship that had sunk over two hundred years ago. The Royal Merchant, in which had bought her and this ragtag group of misfits together.

They all littered around the pontoon close to John B's house, beers in hand as Kie strummed softly on her ukulele, the night air a welcome comfort to Haley’s clammy skin, her heart having still not calmed from when she’d first come to the realisation that Big John had found the Royal Merchant, and now she was joining the Pogues on finishing what he had started - for her own father, she thought as she looked towards the stars in the summer nights sky, smiling softly up at them. For you, dad.

"How much was it again?" JJ broke the silence, the golden haired boy seated closest to her.

"Four hundred mil," John B reminded, though he said it dreamily, almost as if he still couldn't quite believe it. She couldn't, either, in all honesty. Five teenagers, about to charge head-first into a treasure hunt? They had to be crazy. But for four hundred million, anyone would be.

JJ's head turned at rapid speed, before he let out a sigh and clasped his hands together, looking between them all. "Alright, let's talk the split. Now, before we say 'evenly' may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those groupers who were after us," he branded the gun, waving it around as he spoke. "Protection? Not cheap, okay?"

"Technically, that should be my gun," Haley pointed out, shrugging a shoulder and smiling cheekily when he turned to glance over at her, frown etched on his lips. "You said so yourself, remember?"

"You said you didn't want it!" He protested instantly.

She licked her lips as she teased him, "Well, maybe I changed my mind."

JJ shook his head, tongue running over his teeth as he stared at her in disbelief, though his smile was enough to let her know he found humour in her actions. "You don't just get backsies on a gun," he deadpanned.

Haley rolled your honey coated eyes as Pope quickly interrupted the two of them. “You haven't trained," he directed towards JJ. "You've done zero training."

"YouTube, bro!" JJ countered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "This," he pointed to the gun. "Is at least a five percent bump right there."

The group collectively ignored him, though Haley sent him a smirk when he looked at her, an expression of am-I-right or am-I-right on his pretty face. Kie tilted her head towards Pope. "What are you gonna do with your eighty mil, Pope?" She questioned.

"Pay for college in advance," the boy answered immediately. "And also, textbooks. Those are expensive."

Haley couldn't help but smile at him, Pope, ever the thoughtful one. She knew if she had half the brains Pope had she’d probably be the exact same as him - planning ahead, working towards college more than anything. She admired the boy, truly. But her future wasn't nearly as bright as Pope's, she was aware of that. Which made the desire to find that treasure from the Royal Merchant all that more huge.

"What about you, Haley?” She was broken from her thoughts as Kie suddenly directed her words to the other girl, raising an expectant brow as she came to, noting the rest of the gang all looking at her with similar expressions.

What would she do with her money? Honestly, she had no idea. She felt incredibly lucky to even be considered to get a share of it, given that she had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, demanding answers about her dead dad and the damned compass that had started it all in the first place. She’d questioned the guys immediately after the discovery of Big John's reveal, telling them that she was totally okay with not getting a share, had even told them she’d back off and leave them to it, though so many more questions needed answering in her mind. But they'd all immediately disagreed, letting her know that she were apart of this just as much as they all were. This was her journey, too.

"Move me and my mom out of our shitty house," Haley decided. "Get a huge ass house on Figure Eight, buy anything that we wanted. Treat her to everything she could have ever dreamed of. Maybe buy a holiday home in Italy, visit there every year and have a holiday romance with an insanely hot Italian guy."

Her and Kiara shared a giggle at that, missing the way the blonde beside her shifted almost uncomfortably, eyes downcast towards the water for a second before he licked his lips, proclaiming loudly, "I know what I'll do. I'm gonna get a big ass house on Figure Eight, and go full Kook," JJ announced, eyes meeting hers and sending her a wink. "We can be neighbours."

Haley laughed outright, shaking her head at his dramatics as he continued. "Gonna get a marble statue of myself, and then I'm gonna get a koi pond, put a bunch of those fish-"

"I'm never visiting." Kie mumbled, interrupting his sentence as they all shared a laugh, gazes suddenly turning to John B who hadn't spoken in a while, the tanned brunette simply staring off into space, almost seemingly lost in his world.

"What about you, John B?" He looked back towards the four of them sprawled out on the pontoon, his eyes catching Haley’s own for a millisecond, the pair of them understanding exactly what was going through both their minds in that moment.

"To going full Kook," he raised the hand that held his beer, the group of Pogues wasting no time in following the action, all their hands raising, beer cans glinting under the moonlight as they all exclaimed, "To going full Kook!" into the summer nights air, the excitement and anticipation present in all of their voices.

And she grinned as she clinked her beer with JJ's, the blonde throwing a careless arm over her shoulder as he tugged her closer to him; Haley’s own naturally wound around his waist in return as they all laughed and joked into the night, the promise of an adventure and bright future's ahead of them all.

She failed to notice that their arms never really left each other until later that night, when her departure from the gang forced her to unwind her limbs from his, their gazes catching, secret smiles on both their faces.

Oh, this would be fun.

[sylvanfreckles]

My Way or the Highway (Whumptober 2020)

Day Three!

(season 2 fic) A group of rogue hunters capture the Winchesters in hope of forcing Sam to use his psychic abilities for their benefit, and they’re not afraid to use Dean as leverage.

“So...rumor has it you got some kind of second sight, Sam,” Travis commented. He was tall and wiry, though not as tall as Sam. Years spent as a hunter had left his skin tanned and course, though his dark eyes were still bright with intelligence.

Sam froze for just a second too long and Dean kicked his ankle under the table. “What makes you say that?” he finally asked, trying to hide his nervousness with a sip of beer.

Travis and his two friends had pulled into town a few hours ago, to handle the salt-and-burn Sam and Dean had finished earlier in the day. They didn't all know each other but they all knew Bobby, which had seemed like a good enough reason to get acquainted over drinks. Now Sam was wishing they had left town after the job instead of waiting until morning.

“You been watching too much late-night TV,” Dean teased with a hearty laugh. It was too hearty to Sam's ears, but hopefully Travis and his friends wouldn't notice. “What kind of moron fed you a story like that?”

“Word gets around,” Travis shrugged. He leaned back in his chair and studied the brothers with a critical eye. “Trouble is, nobody knows what's true and what's just a fairy tale.”

“Yeah, well, a little advice?” Dean had already dug out his wallet and dropped a few bills on the table to cover the last round. “Don't believe everything you hear. C'mon Sam.”

Sam was all too eager to abandon his half-drunk beer and follow Dean out of the bar. He heard Travis and his friends burst out into laughter as soon as the Winchester were near the door, but tried to ignore them and just move on. It wouldn't take long to pack up and they could be back on the road.

They stepped out into the washed-out light from the bar's neon sight, the night air crisp and bracing. There weren't too many people out and about right now, thanks to the haunting they'd taken care of earlier, so it wasn't too surprising that the parking lot was practically empty.

Then someone struck. Sam was barely aware of movement in his peripheral vision before a burlap sack was shoved over his head and strong hands fisted in the back of his jacket to spin him off-balance and slam him against the wall of the bar. Judging by the muted curses he imagined Dean had received the same treatment. He tried to fight back, but someone was wrenched on the ties at the mouth of the bag, half-strangling Sam in the process. He flailed up feebly and tried to twist his fingers in the ties, but it was no good.

His captor drove a knee into his stomach, which doubled him over, then kicked his feet out from under him. Sam tried to fight against the attacker but his hands were wrenched behind him and bound up with a piece of twine that cut into his skin viciously.

“Good work.” It was muffled by the bag, but Sam was pretty sure that was Travis's voice.

“We just need the tall one, right?” Sam's captor asked. He'd planted a knee against the small of Sam's back to keep him down, one hand on the back of Sam's neck to force his head to be still.

“You never just take one Winchester,” Travis argued. “Connie learned the hard way, back when this one was still working with the old man.” There was the sound of an impact and a soft grunt—Travis had probably kicked Dean. “Put 'em in the van.”

Rough hands hauled Sam to his feet and he struggled against them, though it was futile as a vehicle roared up and he was shoved into a rough cargo space. Dean landed beside him a second later, one elbow hitting Sam's belly right where his kidnapper had kneed him. It hurt like hell, but he'd take it over his brother facing an uncertain fate. Judging by the way these guys were talking...it didn't seem like they'd leave a witness behind.

The growl of the engine filled the space around them as their captors took off to parts unknown. Sam tried to keep track of the number of turns the van made, but between the recklessness of the driver and the bag over his head muffling his perspective Sam lost track.

They screeched to a halt after maybe twenty minutes of driving, and Sam heard the doors slam open before he was gripped under the shoulders and hauled unceremoniously to his feet. He was propelled forward a few steps, then forced to his knees before the bag was torn from his head.

Travis was looking down at them, a smug grin splitting his face. “Just thought this might be a more private place to talk.”

Beside Sam, Dean let out a growl. “Listen here, you son of a bitch-”

“No, you listen,” Travis snapped. “We don't have time for throwing threats and promises back and forth, so I'm gonna give it to you straight, Sammy.” Travis pulled a gun out of the back of his pants and leveled it at Dean's head. “You're gonna work with us, or we're gonna see what's in big brother's empty head.”

Cold horror filled Sam's gut. They hadn't taken Dean because they wanted both Winchesters for something...they'd taken him to force Sam's hand.

“Well?” Travis demanded when Sam didn't answer. He took the few steps over to Dean and twisted his free hand in Dean's collar, dragging him around to face Sam with the gun pressed to his temple. “Whaddya say, Sammy?”

Dean was subtly trying to shake his head, and when Travis noticed he clocked Dean on the temple with the grip of the revolver he was holding. “I'm counting to three, Sam.”

“Wait, wait, please,” Sam tried to edge forward, but one of Travis's partners was behind him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Just...just give me a second. What do you need me for?”

“I'm not hearing a yes,” Travis warned. He shifted his grip so that the gun was pressed to the base of Dean's skull. “Exit wounds aren't pretty, Sammy. Is this how you want to remember you brother?”

“I don't even know what you want!” Sam pleaded. “I can't...I can't agree to something if I don't know what it is!”

“One...”

“Travis, come on,” Sam tried to pull himself free, but the grip on his shoulders tightened.

“Two...”

“Yes!” Sam shuddered, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see his brother's expression. “Whatever...whatever you want. Just don't hurt him.” They only had each other left. He just couldn't handle it if something happened to Dean after everything they'd lost.

“Was that so hard?” Travis sneered. He released Dean and shoved him forward, into Sam. Sam leaned into his brother, nearly shaking with relief. “Now, lemme show you what we have planned.”

There were some crates in a pile a few feet away, with what looked like an old drafting table covered in a dust cloth. Travis whipped the cloth away with a flourish and gestured to the plans that were tacked up on the table.

Sam stared at them. It was a set of blueprints and a section of the city map, but it made no sense. Why would hunters need their help like this? Why take them at gunpoint and threaten Dean to get Sam's cooperation? They'd asked about his psychic powers...was that connected?

“You've got to be kidding me,” Dean groaned. “A bank? You kidnap us at gunpoint, drag us all the way out here...to help you knock over a bank?”

“He doesn't need to talk,” Travis said over his shoulder.

Sam tried to protest but he was shoved to the side as one of Travis's men caught Dean by the shoulder and laid him out with a punch. While Dean was dazed from the blow, a rough gag was shoved between his teeth and tied behind his head.

“We have our plans,” Travis continued as soon as his goons were finished. “We just don't know which ones will work.” He beckoned with his head and the man behind Sam hoisted him to his feet to drag him over to the drafting table. Now Sam could see different routes highlighted on the map and the notations on the blueprints.

“I don't understand,” he said. What did they want him to do? Help them plan a bank heist?

Travis rolled his eyes. “We want to know which plans will work.”

Sam looked over at him, mouth working as he tried to come up with an answer. “I...I still don't understand.”

Practically growling, Travis forced his head back around to look at the plans. “You're the psychic, boy. We want to know which of these plans will work the best.”

It was like a pit had opened beneath his feet. Not only had Travis and his men somehow found out about Sam's gift...they wanted him to use it for something impossible. As far as they could figure, the only visions he got were connected to the other psychic kids, or at least similar phenomenon. No way was it so specific that he could look at a map and a bank blueprint to direct an armed robbery. “It...it doesn't work that way,” he tried to explain in a small voice.

Travis sighed theatrically. “Boys?”

“No!” Sam twisted around in time to see one of Travis's men kick Dean in the gut. Two others joined him, stomping at his legs and back.

“Sam,” Travis tapped the papers on the table. “The sooner you give us what we want the sooner I call them off.”

Sam stared at the wiry man in front of him, then risked a glance over at Dean. Dean had managed to curl up to protect himself as best as he could, but with the hits he'd already taken and his hands tied behind his back he was at their mercy. Sam swallowed and forced himself to study the plans. Maybe he could at least pick out the one that had the least chance for collateral damage and go from there.

“There, your second plan,” he said, gesturing at the papers with his chin. “On the map the blue route...the one that goes through the construction zone.”

“Hmm...” Travis leaned around to look at the map, as though his men weren't beating Dean just a few feet away. “But the green route is much more direct.”

Sam's mind was whirling, his mouth moving almost on instinct. “But it goes through a school zone. If you plan to hit the bank at two pm it should be easiest to get in and out, and your getaway would take you past the elementary school right when it lets out. If you go by the construction zone you can avoid the slower traffic, and since they're replacing street lights the traffic cameras will be down at a few of the intersections, you can plant a replacement car there and swap out in a dead area.”

Travis grinned and clapped Sam on the back. “Was that so hard?”

“Make them stop,” Sam pleaded. “I did what you asked, make them stop.”

Shaking his head, Travis raised one hand. The men beating on Dean all retreated, leaving the older Winchester a bloodied mess on the floor.

“We still need to go through the bank plans, Sam,” Travis warned as Sam tried to stand up to go to his brother. “Don't make me call them back.”

Sam swallowed and turned back to the drafting table. He had to do this...had to fix this somehow so that his brother wasn't in danger. He just didn't know how.

                                                          * * *

“Time to load up!” Travis announced. Sam nearly crumpled in relief. His legs were asleep from being on his knees for so long as he and Travis had pored over the bank plans, and he still hadn't gotten to check on his brother (though he'd heard Dean groaning through his gag so at least the older Winchester was still alive).

The plan was just complicated enough that maybe Travis wouldn't notice the holes in it until he was inside the bank. Sam had never talked so fast in his life, spinning out a long, complicated description of bank procedures and guards on duty. But it had been enough to convince Travis, and now Sam was being shoved back into the back of the cargo van as the other men loaded up the gear they'd need. He almost protested, but then Dean was heaved in beside him.

He looked terrible. One side of Dean's eyes was swollen shut, the gag had been pulled so tight it cut into the corners of his mouth, and his nose was definitely broken. He slumped against Sam with a low moan and Sam shifted around to take as much of his brother's weight as he could. Tears stung his eyes and he fought to blink them away—no use giving Travis or his goons any more ammunition.

Travis hopped into the back of the van with the brothers and two of his goons, the other two in the front to drive and navigate with a grill separating them from the cargo compartment.

“Piece of cake, right?” Travis said, laughing to himself. He sat at the back, against the rear doors, while the two goons sat against the grate at the front.

Sam stared at Travis over Dean's head. His only hope would be that the men botched the robbery so badly that they were all arrested. Even if the cops found Dean's warrant instead of treating them like kidnapping victims, he'd at least get medical treatment at the prison. There was a catch in his brother's breathing that made Sam think some of his ribs were broken, and he was worried that Travis would find something else to take out on Dean.

“So. Sammy. How are we doing?” Travis asked.

“Huh?” Sam blinked at him. “What...uh, what do you mean?”

Travis let out a sigh. “The plan, Sam. How's the plan?”

“It's, uh...it's good?”

“Yes, but did you see it?”

Shit. Sam froze for just a second too long, feeling his pulse pound in his ears. “Of-of course,” he stammered. “Yeah, it's great. Great plan.”

Travis was climbing to his feet, though he couldn't stand up straight in the van. “Sammy, what have we learned about lying?”

“What? No!” Sam twisted up to his knees, fighting to put himself between Travis and Dean. “I'm not lying. The future...the future is too fluid to predict accurately, but this plan has the best chance of working!”

“I'm not asking for the best chance,” Travis sneered. He shoved Sam away with a brutal kick, sending the younger Winchester crashing into the two goons at the front of the cargo compartment. “I'm asking for victory.”

“I can't guarantee that!” Sam protested, though he knew it was useless. They were never going to get out of this alive. “Travis...no one could guarantee absolute success! This plan...this plan is the best one I could come up with, and it's good! It will work.”

“I don't believe you,” Travis called over his shoulder. He had Dean by the front of his shirt now, dragging him to the rear doors of the van. He shoved one of the doors open, wind snatching at their hair and clothes and stirring up loose papers inside the van. “I warned you what could happen to big brother, Sam.”

“No, don't do this,” Sam pleaded. The goons were holding him back now as Travis hauled Dean in front of the door, both hands twisted in Dean's jacket to hold him in place in the open door. For an instant Sam and Dean's eyes met, and Sam felt like his guts were being twisted in on themselves. Not like this. Not over some stupid bank heist.

“Say good-bye, Sammy!” Travis taunted.

“Dammit, Jake, hit the brakes!”

The sharp cry from the front of the van startled them all for just a second, then the van screamed to a halt with the shriek of metal-on-metal and the jarring impact as they ran into something. Sam was slammed into the grate separating the cargo from the driver, and Travis and Dean were sent flying into the cargo compartment.

Dean crashed into Sam, and even though his brother's shoulder his hit sternum hard enough leave one hell of a bruise Sam could have sobbed with relief. He'd knocked his head against the grating and was sure there was blood in his hair, they were still helpless in the hands of their enemies, but Dean was here and alive and that was all that mattered.

Then the door of the van was being torn open and rough hands were pulling Travis and his men out.

“Travis Jones, I oughta skin you alive. What the hell were you thinking?”

Sam blinked over Dean's head, seeing a very familiar face framed in the open door of the van. “Ellen?”

She already had a knife in her hands and was gently cutting the gag away from Dean's face. “Bobby called. Said this idiot had been asking the wrong questions and giving him a bad feeling. Max and I were on business in the area anyway, so he asked us to check on you.”

Behind Ellen was another woman, this one with short-cropped bright red hair sticking up in spikes, and more jewelry on her face than most people wore on their entire bodies. Ellen saw his look and rolled her eyes. “Baby shower. You boys okay?”

“You're my hero,” Dean muttered into Sam's shoulder as Ellen cut away the twine that bound his wrists. “I was almost road chow.”

Ellen finished sawing through the twine, but instead of helping Dean out of the van she coaxed him away from Sam just enough to lie down before turning to free the younger Winchester's hands. “Been looking for you two for a couple hours, didn't think we'd make it in time. Luckily Max's wife drives a tank, don't think this piece of junk even scratched the paint on her monster.”

“Travis...” Sam began.

“We'll take care of him,” Ellen said reassuringly. “I'll help Max and Julie pack them up to haul them to the city limits, then we'll go take care of the two of you.”

Sam hesitated. The twine binding his wrists finally broke and he brought his hands around to gently rub the life back into the bruised skin. He didn't want to kill ordinary humans, but the thought of someone like Travis out there who could hurt them again didn't sit right either.

“Hey,” Ellen had a hand on his shoulder, gently bringing him around to look at her. “Your daddy had a lot of pull in the community. Once word gets around what Travis did to you boys, they won't be able to get a decent job again.”

He let her guide him back to sit against the grating, shifting Dean over enough to put his head on Sam's leg. “I'll be back in a second, honey,” Ellen promised. “Soon as I get Max and Julie on their way.”

Sam nodded, the adrenaline fading to leave exhaustion in its wake. He didn't want to close his eyes, for fear that his usual nightmares would be replaced by the image of Travis threatening to throw Dean's battered body out of the back of the van.

“I'm okay, Sammy,” Dean whispered, reaching up to rest a hand on Sam's arm.

“Yeah, I know,” Sam replied. He finally did close his eyes, one hand on Dean's chest, just over his heart. “I know.”

[emoboijk]

knj | till death

In the demon world, arranged marriages are business transactions. But this isn’t that simple. —demon au, arranged marriage au, non-idol au

01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: 07

2,635 words

gif credit

Inside Namjoon's head, there is nothing but rage. He feels like an animal throwing itself against the bars of its cage, trying to shake something, anything loose. He directs every ounce of power he has at regaining control of himself and he feels only a smidge of progress.

That, and Taemin's teeth nibbling at his earlobe.

Namjoon's eyes stay straight ahead and his body remains immobile. He's glad his body hasn't turned because it means he can keep his eyes on you. He's trying to catalog your and Yoongi's injuries but he finds there are too many to count. He focuses on the men standing behind you both, memorizing their faces. He makes plans to return the favor ten-fold. He wants to clench his fist or jut out his jaw, some small act of defiance, but his body won't move.

"Namjoon here," Taemin purrs, his breath fanning hotly against Namjoon's neck, "made a blood oath with me." Taemin's body curls around the side of Namjoon's possessively, his nails digging into Namjoon's bicep and his teeth running along the pulse point in his neck.

Namjoon tries to ignore it. He can't really feel it anyway. Whatever control Taemin has over his body has also numbed him.

"Idiot," Yoongi grumbles, glaring defiantly at the dark-haired villain clinging to Namjoon. One of the men standing nearby immediately steps forward and hits him in the back of the head. Yoongi sways forward, finds his balance in the chair, and leans back. Turning to the side, he spits blood on the greenhouse floor and licks his teeth. His eyes still have that defiant edge.

"He's not wrong, my love," Taemin giggles, "Giving your blood to an 'enemy'?" Taemin's shoulders shake with laughter before he moves to stand in front of Namjoon. He cups his cheeks in his hands softly and says, "It was just a ploy, hmm? You wanted to come back to me. I know. I figured it out." Taemin's eyes sparkle gorgeously and it sends Namjoon spinning back to when this all began.

The greenhouse was almost new back then. Almost new and hardly used. Ever since their first kiss—baking in the sun, poolside in jean shorts, cherry popsicles melting over lush lips—they'd been sneaking out here to be together.

Taemin always rushes in headfirst, twirling amongst the flora like a Disney character and practically glowing. He has his arms spread wide, whispering that he loves him and he feels safe and he's happy, looking back at Namjoon who lingers at the entrance.

The memory hits Namjoon so suddenly it steals his breath. He comes tumbling back to reality at the sound of your voice.

"How are you controlling him?" you spit, your voice is powerful and vicious. Like a knife, it cuts through his sentimentality. Your face is serious and pensive and angry. He's screaming and clawing and trying to move.

His pinky twitches.

"I'm not telling," Taemin sings, swinging back around to face them, winking at you, "Let's just say it took quite a bit of research." His voice goes up at the end of the sentence because it's all just a game.

"And what do you hope to accomplish?" Yoongi growls from beside you. He's bathed in shadows and the moonlight that does hit him casts him as haggard and bloody. "Blood magic won't make him love you again."

Taemin hisses at him, his eyes losing their playful sparkle and turning deadly serious in a matter of moments. A guard hits Yoongi in the back of the head again and he clatters to the floor, the side of his head smacking the cement with a crack that stops your heart.

"Yoongi!" you scream, wrenching yourself forward in your chair to no avail. Your bindings won't give, and a guard clutches your shoulder to bruising and slams you back into your seat.

"Anyway, I guess we should be on to the main event," Taemin says, his voice sugary again. He faces Namjoon once more, his expression so similar to the one he used to wear.

They're in the fields behind the main house and the grass is so tall it hides them, laying on their backs with their fingers intertwined. The sun bakes their skin golden brown and turns Taemin's hair auburn. Namjoon rolls to hover over him, both of them out of breath from laughing and kissing, thinking that this will always be the way it is. Always tasting spicy cinnamon and sugary vanilla.

"Forever and ever," they whispered. Forever and ever.

The memory stings. It had been a couple of years before you and he had met. And he really had thought it was true, forever.

But things began to unravel, as they often do. Taemin began to unravel.

"Okay, so now, kill her."

Taemin's voice is like steel, slipping beneath Namjoon's skin and slicing. It makes Namjoon snap back to focus, the memory vanishing as if it had never been there at all.

Namjoon stands stock still. Fighting, now, to stay immovable.

Taemin sighs and runs his hands through Namjoon's hair, "I know you're in there fighting this," he says softly, "but once you do it, everything will be better. We'll be better. Forever and ever."

Something in Namjoon's stomach lurches unpleasantly at the realization that he doesn't recognize those eyes anymore. Something in them has turned dark and twisted in a way his Taemin was never capable of.

When Namjoon still doesn't move, Taemin's voice loses its softness and gains an authoritative edge, "Do it." The sound compels Namjoon past the point of disobeying; it's as though his blood has turned against him.

Inside his head, Namjoon's movements feel mechanical, he throws the entire force of his mind against them. Nothing.

You watch him approach with your heart in your throat. You don't really recognize him. His movements are so fluid that they look alien. Your Namjoon is a giant with long limbs that he's barely in control of, a perpetual look of thoughtfulness in his eyes, a soft smile reserved for you… This Namjoon is blank, an imitation; he's nothing at all.

He stoops down until your eyes are at the same level. Before you can take in another breath, his hand is around your throat. He stands to his full height and holds you above him like it takes no effort at all. You gasp for breath.

His fingers around your throat feel familiar and you're surprised that, this close to death, those kinds of memories surface. You watch his face for a flicker of his real self, think you see one in the very depths of his eyes, and whisper, "It's okay," because what else can you say. You're going to die. But it's not his fault.

That's what finally breaks him. It's okay. Namjoon, gripping the steel bars that are keeping him caged in his mind, breaks when he hears you say those words. "No it's fucking not," he screams in his head.

Control comes back to his limbs too fast and his knees buckle. You fall against him, both of you folding into each other as you land harshly on the ground. You can feel his breath against your cheek, and feel the anger brewing beneath his skin. One of his hands reaches out for you and grabs your wrist; it takes you a moment before you realize he's checking your pulse.

Satisfied, he rises slowly. His hair is falling into his face but you can see his eyes are blacked out. More surprisingly, there are long fangs now crowding his teeth, poking out over his lips. He spreads his hands wide and you see his nails have grown into claws, and sharp horns are sticking up from his head. In the blink of an eye, large, leathery black wings rip through his shirt and spread open.

You lose your breath.

"Stop," Taemin commands. But Namjoon rolls his shoulders, the joints in his wings cracking menacingly. He turns to him.

"Stop," Taemin says again, but this time it's a whimper.

Namjoon has never felt this powerful before. The wings are new. He hasn't conjured claws or horns since childhood. His rage is feeding his power and it's coming off of him in waves. And he doesn't care; his vision is red.

Usually, Namjoon's power sits just beneath his skin like a current of energy, one that he keeps at bay with an incredible amount of restraint (that took an even more incredible amount of practice). Right now he's like a live wire; the casing's been removed and he is nothing but raw power.

He stretches his wings behind him to their full span, cracking his neck as he grows used to his new appendages and this new surge of demonic energy. When he looks at Taemin he wants nothing more than to reach into his chest and pull out his heart. He wants to tear out his jugular. He wants to watch him burn.

You're so caught up in watching him that you don't realize Yoongi's free of his restraints until he's undoing yours. You jump at the feeling of his fingers against your wrists, startled by his bloody face and rasping voice, "We have to get out of here."

You roll your shoulders and rub at your wrists, wincing at the strain. "I can't leave," you say like it's obvious.

Yoongi looks at you like you're stupid, "Are you kidding me?"

You roll your eyes in response, "I'm not leaving him, Yoongi."

The room is getting warmer, like twelve o'clock on a summer day, and it takes you a second to realize it's coming from Namjoon. He's burning through demonic magic at a lightning speed and it's shedding off of him like the sun.

Yoongi wraps his fingers around your arm and pulls, "Come on," he huffs, "Look, he's like a …atom bomb right now. He could go off at any moment."

You wrench yourself from his grasp, "Why do you think I'm staying?"

Namjoon's hands close around Taemin's throat and squeeze. There's a flash of childish innocence in Taemin's eyes, but Namjoon is far past caring.

Burns appear on Taemin's skin from proximity to the demonic energy and his windpipe gives beneath the forces of Namjoon's grip. Namjoon doesn't blink.

It's the most demonic you've ever seen him.

"Namjoon!" you scream.

You're afraid if he doesn't stop now he won't come back. You're afraid of losing him.

"Namjoon," you sob.

You force yourself to a stand, fighting through the demonic energy that makes your eyes sting and your skin blister. You whisper his name to anchor you, to tether him to you. You move forward till he turns.

He looks almost like a medieval painting. Horns and wings and claws. But his eyes are familiar, inky black pools like starless galaxies you could lose yourself in.

"It's okay," you whisper, reaching out to him. "It's okay," you say again as you reach him, fingers pressing gently to his jaw and his cheeks.

His brow wrinkles at the touch, a distinctly human expression overtaking his demonic form. The back of one hand wipes your cheek softly. You're crying.

Namjoon falls to his knees and with him all the magic. Taemin is on the ground and whatever was keeping him alive is gone now.

Namjoon has collapsed into you, but you can feel his breath against your neck so you know he's going to be okay. His hands are around your waist like a life preserver, and you can feel the scrape of his fangs against your skin.

"It's okay," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair just to prove to yourself that he's still here, he's still yours. "Just keep breathing," you whisper, tears falling down your cheeks without your noticing. Behind him is what remains of Taemin and you have to close your eyes. It's so horrific. Your eyes and nose sting with the smell of burning flesh.

You only open them when you hear footsteps. Jin is leading the charge, stomping in at a heavy run, skidding to a stop when he sees the scene. "Oh my god," he whispers, covering his mouth with his hand. Shortly after him, Yoongi limps in, leaning heavily against Jeongguk. And then ten seconds later, Hoseok follows with a large group of security.

"They're all…" Jin starts.

"…dead," Yoongi finishes, finally giving in to his exhaustion and collapsing against Jeongguk's side.

"Outside," Hoseok says, "Medics…" He speaks in short bursts, unable to form full sentences while he can barely process what he's seeing.

You take a deep breath and move your hand to cup Namjoon's face. His eyes are still entirely black, and his fangs still long past his teeth. You can feel his claws press harmlessly against your sides.

"Okay," you whisper, stroking his cheek softly to erase his pained expression, "You have to come back now, okay? For me."

Namjoon leans forward and presses his forehead against yours, nodding slightly. His body grows tense in your grasp and you can see his chin jut out in concentration. Slowly, the fangs retract, the wings disappear…when he opens his eyes, they are the soft brown you know so well.

"Hey there," you whisper.

"Hey," he whispers before passing out.

When Namjoon wakes up his head feels as though it's been split open, his back feels broken, his hands ache. His whole body feels completely spent and rundown. He blinks against the lights of the hospital room and groans involuntarily against the pain in his head.

"Oh my god," he hears. Your voice is tear-soaked and relieved, but he recognizes it immediately. You materialize at his bedside and grip his hand tightly, "Hi," you whisper.

"Hi." He smiles when you lean down and press your lips to his chastely.

There's a long moment where you both just look at each other, relieved that you've both survived, that it's... over. Your eyes are watering and you blink, laughing lightly, "I...I should probably get a doctor."

"No, don't go," he says, almost in a whine like a child.

"Okay," you grin despite yourself. Forgetting his wounds, you lean your head against his, pulling away sharply when he gasps in pain.

"Why does my head hurt so bad?" He mutters.

"Oh," you smile, "um…" you pull a compact from your purse and hand it to him.

"Oh shit," he says, watching his own expression in the mirror. There are deep purple bruises around his eyes, two perfect circles still healing in his forehead.

"Horns," you whisper, trying to keep yourself from giggling.

"So, my back…?"

"Wings," you nod, smiling fully.

Namjoon chuckles too, reaching up to stroke your cheek, "Guess I was pretty upset." He smiles softly and you turn your face to press a soft kiss to the center of his palm.

"Careful," a voice says from the doorway, "don't scratch her, Wolverine."

You both turn to see Yoongi, bruised but smiling, and Jeongguk pushing him into the room in a wheelchair. Namjoon's eyes flick to his own hands and he immediately curses at the long, sharp claws. He throws his head back onto the pillow in frustration and groans.

"I tried to trim them myself," you blush, "but they kept breaking the nail files."

"Yeah," he sighs, his eyes still closed, "sandpaper is the only thing tough enough."

"I'll ask Lisa to pick some up," Jeongguk chuckles.

"How long was I out?" he wonders, eyes moving to the three of you in turn.

"About a week," you say softly.

"And Taemin?"

There's a long, awkward silence before Yoongi says, "Let's just say it makes the bone-breaking incident look like child's play."

"So he's dead?"

You nod solemnly, looking down at your hands. Gently, Namjoon fits his into yours, squeezing. "We're safe."

author’s note— i know this took forever and a day, i hope it was worth the wait

epilogue ↝

for more of my works check out my m.list

[oldsilverblood5]

Childhood

Thankfully, the Fentons ghost hunting tech was less advanced in the past and sneaking into their home was easier than it had ever been. Without their modified warning system or ghost shield, Phantom was able to sneak in using all the blind spots they hadn��t discovered yet.

He only hoped he wasn’t so far in the past that they didn’t have a working ghost portal yet. That would really throw a wrench into his plans to get back to his own time. Still though, he had to wonder why he had to find Clockwork on his own. Surely if he weren’t meant to be here, the time ghost would have already intervened. Right?

There was no one in the main floor of the house, so Phantom headed straight for the basement. Once inside, he froze at the sound of an unearthly screech. It sounded primal, and hurt, and Phantom knew it had to be a ghost.

Phantom ground his teeth together. Normally, he would rush in to save whatever poor ghost had been captured by the Fentons, but he couldn’t risk any changes to the past. He tried to tell himself that this had already happened, and there was nothing he could do, but before he could work up the courage to go in and look for the ghost portal, he heard another scream.

This one sounding like a human child.

“Don’t let your fear control you, Danny. That’s what it wants.” Maddie’s stern voice spoke up.

Phantom’s core thrummed in confusion and fear, and he turned the corner to investigate the lab before he knew what he was doing.

In the middle of the lab was a large glass cage, it was long and took up a huge amount of space. Maddie and Jack stood to the side and observed the cage like the cold scientists they were. Inside was the screeching ghost, back facing Phantom and looking at something on the other side of the long box that was out of his vision.

The ghost lunged with the same animalistic screech that sounded very wrong to Phantom’s ears, and a small figure slid under the floating form. Phantom immediately recognised the other person in the cage as a child, and a moment later, he realised who the child was.

“Danny?” He whispered to himself in disbelief. Phantom watched the pre-teen version of his rival stand and fire a blast from his gun that just barely grazed the ghost’s shoulder. The ghost ignored the blast, and several more that did a better job of hitting it, as it quickly lunged back at the younger Danny.

Now with a better view of the ghost, Phantom almost gasped at the sight of them. Mottled green and grey skin, flaming wisps of red hair, solid black eyes and foaming mouth open in a snarl, showing off too big fangs. There was something wrong with this ghost. Something so very wrong.

They pounced on the child, holding him down with clawed hands, and proceeded to screech in his face. They leaned in to possibly bite into Danny’s face, but the young hunter reached up with an ecto-laced knife to slash into the ghost’s abdomen. The pain from the wound made them rear back and howl and Danny was able to kick them off. He was tackled again as he tried to stand, this time from behind as he was facing away when he stood, and he hit the ground with a groan. The scream that the child made when the ghost clawed deep into his back had Phantom struggling to hold himself back as he darted his eyes between the younger Danny and his parents.

Why weren’t they doing anything to stop this!?

Why were they just watching it? What was wrong with this ghost? And why was Danny in the cage with them?

All of a sudden, the ghost started shaking and screaming, a light on the metal collar they wore turned on. Normally, Phantom would have been horrified to see someone get electrocuted, but at that moment he was only glad they were no longer hurting the kid.

Jack stepped into the cage and the ghost disappeared in a whirl of the containment device he held. With the fight over, Maddie stepped in and crouched to observe her son’s back. The shirt was well and truly ruined, and several long lines of red peeked through, already dripping blood freely.

“It doesn’t look infected, but we can’t be too sure.” She stood without helping Danny up in any way. “Get into the safety shower. We need to scrub you down.” Danny looked up at her with wide eyes at the order.

“D-do I have to? You said it didn’t look infected.” He asked hopefully as he slowly stood, wincing the whole way.

“Even so, it’s safer to clean it before we bandage it. I know you don’t like the process, but you won’t be able to reach your back properly. Though, if it makes you feel more comfortable, you can keep your pants on.”

Going by the expression on Danny’s face, that would make him feel more comfortable, though it quickly fell into a chastised frown when his mother spoke again.

“But this wouldn’t be necessary had you been able to follow your basic training. Honestly, Danny, you should know better by now to not turn your back on a ghost.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Mom, I wasn’t thinking.” Danny lifted his hand as if he were going to rub the back of his neck, something Phantom knew his older self often did when he was uncomfortable, but winced and lowered the hand before it got there.

Seeing the action, his mother finally remembered the injury and led the way to the safety shower in the corner. “You’re quick on your feet Danny, but you let your fear control you way too much.”

Phantom could only stare, still in shock over the events. Getting over fear in a fight like that was easier said than done. Even Phantom was afraid of that ghost. They were tainted and twisted and wrong. He wondered what happened to them to make them that way. Though considering the Fenton’s were involved that was probably half the answer already.

Now that things were calmer, Phantom started paying a bit more attention to what was being said. He didn’t know that his rival had been afraid of ghosts when he was younger. Though with an experience like that, he couldn’t say he blamed the kid. This was his training?

“You want to protect people, don’t you?” Maddie asked as Danny tried to remove his ruined shirt. He couldn’t do it, so she grabbed a pair of latex gloves and some scissors. “To protect them from ghosts?”

“Of course, I do.” Danny stopped moving as his mother cut the shirt off. “I want to be a ghost hunter so I can keep people safe from ghosts.”

Phantom stared at the younger version of his rival. Danny Fenton had been a ghost hunter for longer than Phantom had been in Amity Park. But he had always been one of the best, a constant thorn in Phantom’s side. He was a Fenton, raised a ghost hunter, and just as much of a monster as his parents. But Phantom had never thought to wonder why.

“Well, you can’t protect anyone if you’re afraid.” Maddie continued, breaking Phantom’s thought process. “You’ll make mistakes like this if you aren’t thinking clearly, and only put yourself in danger. We won’t always be there to protect you if a ghost gets the upper hand. That’s why you need to train more. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mom, I understand.” Danny stepped into the shower.

“But don’t worry too much about it, kiddo.” Jack piped in cheerfully, “We’ll work more on your techniques before you fight a ghost again. Your aim could use a little work.”

If Danny was going to say anything in response, he lost his chance when the shower started up. Maddie had an extra hose she had turned up to a high pressure and was washing down Danny’s back. Phantom only watched Danny’s muscles clench at the pressure on his fresh open wounds for a moment before he decided he’d seen enough. He flew intangibly through the blast doors that hadn’t been ghost proofed yet, and he was in GZ open air.

He sighed and started the flight to the Clocktower. For once, he was glad it was so far away, it gave him plenty of time to think about what he had just witnessed.

First, there was the ghost. They were twisted beyond any form of recognition and Phantom knew that the Fentons had to have done something to them. But this was several years in the past, and Phantom had never seen anything like this before. It worried him that they could away with something like this for so long.

And then there was Danny. Who couldn’t have been more than 12 years old, locked in a cage with a feral ghost while his parents watched and gave minimal advice. And the severe lack of worry from them when Danny was hurt had Phantom seething. They behaved so clinically in response to his injury, worrying more about a possible infection than if he was alright. The proper treatment of his wounds aside, it was as if they didn’t care at all. There was no asking if he were okay, no apologies for putting him in that situation in the first place, no reassurances that it would be okay other than no visible signs of infection. They didn’t try to help him up, didn’t express worry or concern, they didn’t even save the lectures until after they’d patched him up! Maddie just went straight into scolding him for turning his back on the ghost, and Jack was already talking about the next time he would be put in the cage with a twisted being who clearly wanted to kill him.

Despite not being able to, Phantom felt as though he might throw up. This was Danny’s training. The training his parents were putting him through so that he would one day be a ghost hunter like them. A ghost hunter that he wanted to be so he could protect people from the ghosts like the one they made him fight.

A sudden memory resurfaced in Phantom’s mind, one shortly after he’d met the youngest Fenton for the first time.

‘Stop it with the act already! I know what you are!’

If that corrupted facsimile was Danny’s first and only impression of a ghost before being allowed in the field, was it any wonder that he thought all ghosts were evil and monstrous beings?

This was wrong. It was all so wrong, and Phantom needed answers now. He never liked Danny, and he’d never seen the family interact outside of working together to take down some innocent ghost, but this was not what he expected. He needed to get back to his time and talk to Danny, now.

[valeriethepussycats]

Speed

Chapter 3

Pairing- Dean x Reader

Warning- cursing

Dean Is driving alongside the bus. “I  gotta get on that bus.”  

“Yeah. You get on the bus.” Gordon said Sarcastically.

“Drive straight! Stay in this lane!” Dean yelled at Jody.

“Watch the road.” Gordon urged.  

Dean Looks around. How to do this? He looks at the Jag's door -- it's a problem. So he speeds ahead of the bus, opens the door, swings it wide. The wind tries to push it shut but he holds it.

“Wait a minute. What are you doing?” Gordon asked Uncertainly.

Dean ignores Gordon’s question. “Are you insured?”

“Yeah! Why?” Gordon answered Confuse.

Dean slams on the brakes.

“No! No!”

The Jaguar’s tires smoke. Bus Comes up fast, smashes into the door, rips it off. Everyone on the bus looks in amazement as the Jaguar, minus the door,slows beside the bus.

“You broke my... my door.” Gordon whined.

“Sir, I need to take your phone.” Dean told Gordon.

“Take the phone.” Gordon said in a dry tone.

“Take the wheel.” Dean told Gordon as he stands up.

“What are you...” Gordon trailed off. “Oh, oh, shit. Whoa, shit.”

“Drive straight.” Dean yelled at Jody and she nods.

He stands on the edge of the seat as the owner scrambles to get into it. 

Dean prepares to jump. He's just about to.But... Some YAHOO in front of Jody is going forty. She has to swerve. Dean yells leaps from his car. It doesn't look like he's going to make it. His right hand grabs the bottom of the handrail shoulder His Feet at the front is wrenched of the bus. Dean howls. ” Oh, shit.” His pavement. Are dragging over the The jaguar. Gordon is struggling to get control of the car.

“Whoa! Shit!” He can't do it in time. The Jag plows into the big yellow water-filled collision barrels at an off-ramp. Gordon, unhurt, cranes to see if Dean made it okay. Dean pulls himself with one arm, up onto the bus steps.

“This guy's out of his mind.” Y/n proclaimed.

“OK, listen, you've got to stay above 50.” Dean whispered to Jody.

Y/n gets up from her sit and grabs holds to the Rail. “Excuse me, are you out of your mind?... Hello?” Y/n asked Dean.

Not paying her any attention still talking to Jody. “Whatever it takes.” Dean tells Jody

“Everybody, I'm Dean Winchester, LAPD. We have a slight situation on the bus here.” Dean Announced. “Ma'am, if you'll please sit down.”

“No I won’t sit You're scaring the shit out of these people.” Y/n protested.

“Ma'am, please!” Dean insisted.

Y/n looks at Dean and see that he’s serious she sits back down. Dean makes his way down the bus, looking at everyone. In the back, Ray starts sweating as Jack approaches. His hands reach for something under his coat.

“If everybody will stay in your seats and remain calm, we should be able to defuse the problem, so sit tight.” Dean Addressed everyone.

The man Ray rushes up from his sit with a  gun pointed at Dean. “Get away from me!” Ray shouted.

He levels a gun at Dean. Instinctively Dean whips his own out, and the two are at close range stand-off. Ray looks more scared than anything. There are a few screams.

“I don't know you, man. I'm not here for you.  Let's not do this.” Dean told Ray.

“Stop the bus!”

“He can't!”

“Stop the bus! Stop it!”  Ray yelled at Jody.

“Listen!” Dean yelled at Ray. “Look, I'm putting my gun away, OK?”  Dean uncocks his gun and starts to Lower it slowly. “OK? Now, listen. I don't care about your crime. Whatever you did, I'm sure that you're sorry, so it's cool now. It's over.

“I'm not a cop right now.” Dean informed Ray as he throws his badge on the ground. “See? We're just two cool guys, just hanging out...”

Arthur jumps on Ray to take the gun away from him and then a shot goes off The driver's partition Shatters. Jody lurches to one side, hit in the back.

“Jody!!!” Ellen yelled.

The bus swerves sickeningly Jody slumps over.

Y/n rushing up and take hold of the will.

“I'll get the wheel!” Y/n told Jody diving wit the wheel, Ellen to help Jody.

“I've got it! Jody! Oh God, Jody!” Y/n put forth.

Jack moves in and with two crunching blows disarms and subdues Ray. Simultaneously.

“Come on. You've got to move your legs. Somebody move his legs!” Y/n yelled. “Come on! Jody, get your foot... get your foot off the pedal!”

Ellen and two other moves Jody from the sit and Y/n sit down.

“I got to stop this thing!” Y/n stated.

“No! Don't! Stay above 50!” Dean urged.

“Jody's been shot! We've got to get her off!” Y/n insisted.

“You slow down and this bus will explode! There is a bomb on this bus. If we slow down, it'll blow.  If anyone tries to get off, it'll explode.” Dean informed everyone.

“Bullshit! Yeah, there's a bomb. Some funny joke man.” Castiel a men dress down in a suit and tie said unconvinced.

“Are we gonna have a problem now?” Dean questioned.

A moment. Castiel backs down.

“She's bleeding so much. I don't know what to do.” Ellen said in a panicky voice.

Dean walks up the the front of the bus. “Put pressure front and back and keep her legs up.” Dean told Ellen as his talks of his  button down shirt.

“Hold on.” Ellen told Jody. “Jody, lift your head.”

Castiel moves to help lay Jody out more comfortably. Dean goes over to Y/n. She is staring straight ahead, death grip on the wheel. She's terrified .“Miss, can you handle this bus?”

“Oh, sure. It's just like driving a really big Pinto.” Y/n joked.

“ I need to know! Can you handle it?” Dean questioned.

“I'm fine. I'm fine. Just tell me what the plan is.” Y/n told Dean Sincerely. “Is there a plan?”

“Just for you to drive. We're OK for now. Just keep us above 50.”

“Good plan. So, you're a cop, right?”

“That's right.”

“I should probably tell you that I'm taking the bus because I had my driver's licence revoked.”

“What for?”

“Speeding.”

Dean grins as he dials on the phone.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Back at the precinct Bobby and Garth are getting geared up. “Benny, we're on our way to the chopper. If anything changes, let us know!” Bobby shouted as he and Garth rushes of the board the chopper.

Benny nods as he sits at his decks. Then  officer Robin walks up and hands him a book. “Anything we haven't seen should be in here.”  

The bus races along. High above it we see the local news helicopters, cameras trained on it.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

At Chuck’s house. All four TVs are on, playing all the different newscasts. Chuck sits, watching the various helicopter shots of the bus.

“Something wrong with the driver,but at least one car, a Jaguar, has been driven off the road by the speeding bus. The bus apparently came onto the freeway at the Lincoln on-ramp.”

“It began picking up speed, swerving, and hasn't slowed down since.”

“Minutes ago a Los Angeles police officer boarded the bus by jumping onto it from a moving car.”

“Would that be you, Dean?”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Dean on the phone with Benny. “Where do we start?”

“Check the speedometer. Has it been fucked with or loosened? See any wires or anything?” Benny said with a mouth full of food.

Dean gets down to check. “Excuse me, ma'am.” Dean leans on Y/n’s legs and looks under the wheel. “ No, it's clean.”

“Then it's gonna be under the bus. Probably was rigged to one of the axles.” Benny told Dean as he starts to clear space on his decks.

“I can’t get under the bus right now Benny. It's kind of in motion.” Dean pointed out.

“Excuse me!...Excuse me!” Ellen shouted to get Dean’s attention.

“Hold on.” Dean tells Benny. “Yes?”

“Access panel... in the floor.” Jody Breathed. “Underneath you.”

Dean goes and opens the panel. Pavement rushes beneath him. “All right, Harry. We're in. Passenger relay.” He hands the phone to Kevin.

“Sir, take this. I want you to tell him what I see.” Dean said getting down on all fours and sticking his head in the panel. “OK,we got a wad! Pretty big!”

“There's a pretty big wad.”  Kevin told Benny.

“Brass fittings... I think I can reach the circuit wire.”

“Brass fittings. He can reach the circuit wire.” Kevin told Benny.

“No, no. Don't do that. That's a decoy. Classic. What else?” Benny asked Kevin.

“That's your classic decoy what else.” Kevin

“Hold on.” Dean tells Kevin.

It's hard to see very far with tanks and pipes. Dean lowers his head even further down. From his P.O.V., the undercarriage closer to the front comes into view.

“Fuck me!”

There is an obscene mass of plastique stuck to the front. Detonators, wires, a jerry-rigged timer built around a gutted gold wristwatch. A lot of the gold plating has flaked off, dull grey beneath.

“Oh, darn.” Kevin tells Benny.

Dean sits up and takes the phone from Kevin.

“Benny, there’s enough C-  on this thingto put a hole in the world.”

“OK, all right. Just stay calm. What else?” Benny told Dean.

“Three triggers... one on the axle I can't really see, a cellular remote and a timer running off a wrist watch.” Dean replied.

“Officer!” Y/n said in a Panic.

“A watch? What kind of watch?” Benny asked.

“Gold.Gold band. Fairly cheesy.”

“Officer!” Y/n tried again but Dean gives her the “hold up” finger.

“What’s on your mind, Benny?” Dean questioned.

“Shit. What do I do?” Realizing that his attention was mostly focused on his Conversation Y/n takes the intercom She said loudly. “OFFICER!”

Dean gets up and looks out the window.

“What do I do? Which way?”  Y/n shouted at Dean.

“Oh, shit...Get on the shoulder.” Dean tells Y/n.

“OK.” Y/n nods, veers onto the right shoulder, blasting past the slowing traffic. But then they see A half-mile ahead, there's a stalled car being rolled onto the back of a tow truck on the shoulder. Behind it,there's an off ramp

“Watch it!”

Y/n tries to squeeze the bus between the tow truck and the slow lane. She hits the car on back, sends it flying over the front of the truck. She keeps going, sideswiping several cars.

“Um, stay on or get off?” Y/n said stressed. “Stay on or get off?!!”

“Off! Off!” Dean answered.

“OK.”

Y/n steers off the freeway at the last second, onto the exit ramp.

“Hold on!”

The bus Roars down the off-ramp, slamming into the water barrels.

“Oh, God.”

Far ahead, cars are stopped at the light. The ramp is a single lane. The bus jumps the curb, taking out roadway signs, reflectors and car mirrors. For the next few minutes, whenever she doesn't need to use both hands to drive, her hand is on the horn. Y/n's hands and feet are in constant motion. The passengers are knocked about, yelling. Dean and Y/n's faces -- uh-oh.

“Keep going.”  Dean told Y/n

“It's red!” Y/n protested.

“Go! Go! Go!”

At the bottom of the ramp. Cross traffic. Y/n’s footHesitates over the brake, thenDean’s foot Stomps on the gas.

The bus Rockets through the intersection. Cars fishtail, nearly colliding.

“This is much better city streets.” Y/n said Sarcastically.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

As Chuck watches, eating a baloney sandwich on white bread and a glass of milk. Three of the TV's have the bus on them, but the fourth one is turned to a football game. “The bus is on Western heading in a southbound direction. Now, where the bus did exit here, it had a couple of close calls.”

“Yeah! Yeah! All right!” Chuck praised his football team.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Benny is sitting at his desk holding a detonator pondering when officer Robin walks over to him and interrupt his thinking. “I don't get it.”

Benny exhale loudly and looks at Robin. “The watch is a shitty timer. Why use it? What's he saying?”

“Lots of people have watches.” Robin stated.

“This guy has no MO. A bomber falls in love with one kind of bomb and they're very monogamous.

This guy uses C- dynamite, different trigger every time, and now he throws in this watch.” Benny informed Robin.

“He's an encyclopaedia of bombs.He knows every kind.” Robin agreed.

“Yeah, and everything we do to dismantle it....  Wait a minute. I want to look at the files for the last 10 years.” Benny pondered out loud.

“We did the mug shots. It's not gonna help.” Robin admitted.

“No. I want to look at cops.” Benny replied.

“Come on. Let's go.” Robin murmured to the surrounding cops.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Dean is standing next to Y/n as she is driving the bus His  cellular rings. And he answers it without missing a beat.

“Yeah. Bob, where have you been? I had to bail on the freeway. We're in the city.” Dean informed Bobby.

Bobby is looking out the window of a helicopter. He has a map of the city on his lap. “I can see you. Just keep going straight. I'm going to try to clear the roads for you. Just stay on-line.” Bobby told Dean.

Cars cruising to an intersection. It reaches the intersection and turns, screeching, halting in front of traffic and blocking the intersection.

The cars slam on their brakes, nearly hitting the patrol car.

“Shit! Oh, Jesus!” Y/n murmured. “God! No!”

The passengers barely have time to curse before the enormous bus roars by, going the other way. The passengers watch the city streets fly by, panic volume turned high. Y/n and Dean Sees a garbage truck back out in front of the bus.

“Go left!” Dean urged Y/n.

“Sorry!” Y/n Pulls the wheel hard left. The bus  Swerves into oncoming traffic. The bus dodges oncoming cars, trucks and other buses, bumping a few.

“Oh, my God! Oh, jeez!” Y/n voiced.

A Lincoln peels off the side of the bus, goes flying.

“People, stay out of my way! Stay out of my way!” Y/n shouted.

“Ma'am, up to the right.”  Dean tells Y/n.

“OK, OK I see it. Sh...” Y/n trailed off as she switch the bus into the right lane.

“Bob! Bobby! You’ve got to get me out of here!” Dean yelled into the phone.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

On the same Street as the bus is speeding down. The two women wave goodbye. The first Woman pushes the baby carriage toward the curb.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

“All right? A few more blocks, you'll come up to a soft turn. Right. Then hold straight. I've got some units waiting for you there. They're gonna lead you to the 105 Freeway. It's not in use.  It'll be empty. You'll be totally clear.” Bobby told dean

“Got it.” Dean replied. “In a few blocks, we'll take a soft turn to the right.”

“OK, wait a minute. Escort to where?” Y/n takes her eyes off the road to look over at Dean. “Where do we get an escort to?” Y/n repeated.

A woman in the baby carriage steps out from behind a van right in front of the bus.

“Watch out!”  Dean shouted.

The bus Smashes into the baby carriage as the woman pushing it jumps clear.

“Oh, God!” Y/n yelled as she let’s go of the wheel to Cover her face, and record timing Dean grab the wheel.

The baby carriage is knocked seventy feet in front and to the side of the bus, sailing through the air.

“Oh, Jesus! Oh, God! I hit the baby! Oh, God! I just hit the baby!” Y/n bawled.

Dean His eyes following. He grimaces as The baby carriage hits the pavement. But then a hundred empty soda and beer cans explode out of it.

“Cans! There was no baby. It was full of cans.” Dean said wait a note of relief.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”  Dean said with amusement on his face.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Here at last are the patrol cars, which start up, leading the way. After a few blocks the patrol cars Come to the on-ramp. The bus follows when A group of school kids walk blithely in front of it.

“Jeez! No! No! No!” Y/n is forced to Swerve and continue on the street parallel to the freeway.

“Why aren't they in school?” Y/n yelled.

“Bobby, we're boned.” Dean proclaimed.

“I'll get you out, Dean....All right, listen. You got an entrance coming up, Dean. It's gonna be a real ugly turn, though.”  Bobby explained.

“How ugly?” Dean asked.

“What's ugly?” Y/n Chimed in.

“We got a hard right coming up at the construction site.” Dean informed Y/n. “This should be it.”

“That's a dead end.” Y/n told Dean with a firm  voice. “I can't make that turn.”

“You can make it. Keep left. Keep left and make it wide.” Dean told Y/n

“Oh, God. We're going to tip over.” Y/n confessed.

“You're right. We're going to tip over.” Dean agreed.

Part 4

[angrylizardjacket]

i keep digging myself down deeper // charlotte&lola

Summary: Lola takes Charlotte to confront her mother after finding out that she lied about Lola’s dad’s death. Lola is plotting a murder. Charlotte is trying to fix her moral compass. They still end up in a graveyard.

A/N: tagging @misscharlottelee as always, and @local-troubled-writer . this made me so fucking sad folks. also i think lola is overall a better person in this au and im so sad about the main story too now. wrote it at work.

[run to paradise au]

“Take Charlotte,” Doc says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like he knows Lola’s on a knife-edge and can trust the younger woman to pull her back. He says it like he’s trying to throw a wrench in whatever malicious scheme she’s concocting that she thinks he doesn’t know about it. 

Take Charlotte. Unlike you, she’s good. Is what Lola hears, and it sets her teeth on edge. It could have been Tommy, but Doc knows better than anyone that Lola’s got that man wrapped around her little finger, though he’s the backup if Charlotte won’t go, because god knows Lola hates Mick enough to murder him on a trip out of state, and she and Nikki together will never do anything good. He could ask Vince, but that’s asking for trouble, and Vince has actually kind of settled down. Lola on a rampage is liquid heroin, and Vince is finally in recovery. So take Charlotte, somehow the only stable one of the lot.

“We’re going to pay respects to your dad, right?” Charlotte’s got a backpack full of clothes for if they stay longer than intended, and Razzle on her heels, offering to drive them both to the airport. Lola confirms. “And Doc doesn’t trust you?”

“No he does not,” Lola grumbles through her teeth, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Nikki, on the sofa wearing only his boxers, covered in scratches and hickeys.

“He’s a smart man,” Charlotte says with a smile, but Lola’s not matching her energy, just rolls her eyes. That being said, Lola’s at the very least grateful that Charlotte’s not walking on eggshells around her the way everyone else seemed to, Nikki notwithstanding, since she’d found out her father had died when she was nine, and her mother had lied about it to her, and she’d believed that he’d just left because she was a bad kid ever since.

But now she was out for revenge, had told Doc she’d just wanted to visit her father’s grave, but the moment she’d been given the go-ahead, she knew she was heading home to confront and kill her mother for everything she’d put Lola through.

When they get on the plane, Lola’s pretty sure she can see Razzle waving from the terminal, and when she points this out, Charlotte leans over her and waves back, despite Lola’s noise of disgust.

“Don’t be like that Lols, notice how I didn’t say anything about your hickeys and band aids on the way here? You look like you had a raccoon try and rip out your jugular,” Charlotte tells her with a smirk, sitting back before avoiding her gaze, “and I don’t think Nikki would give it up that hard if you were still really grieving, so what’s your real plan here?” Cutting straight to the point, she’s so unbelievably no-nonsense about it, seeing through Lola before Lola had even fed her a lie. Lola knows she could convincingly lie to Charlotte in a heartbeat, but it’s not worth the effort; either way she’d have to tell her.

“I’m gonna kill my mom,” Lola tells her under her breath, before smiling at the stewardess doing final checks, while Charlotte sits in stunned silence.

“You’re gonna murder her?” Charlotte matches her volume, though her voice is full of disbelieving rage. They haven’t even taken off yet. Lola hums in agreement. “What? Just gonna shoot her in the face? You don’t even have a -”

“A plan? Of course I do. I’m gonna burn her house down. With a flare gun,” Lola fires back easily, before adding, “shooting her is Plan B. Also with a flare gun.”

The flight is only a few hours long, and Charlotte spends it fuming in silence, not wanting to cause a scene on a plane, in the airport, or in the taxi to the hotel. There’s no words for the rage, for the betray, for the being an accessory to murder, and she’d probably fight Lola if the older woman didn’t have biceps the size of a rotisserie chicken.

Lola leaves, claiming to get dinner, and comes back with a greasy burger and a flare gun, and Charlotte wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to believe this is all a bad dream.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” is what she says, and Lola gives a patient smile.

“Charlie, please just remember she set me on fire,” and she puts the flare gun on the bedside table, puts her trash in the bin, and goes to bed.

Maybe Charlotte considers taking the gun and throwing it in the ocean. But she doesn’t. Deep down, she’s pretty sure Lola’s not capable of murder, enough that she leaves the gun there; it’s trust. Lola wouldn’t make her an accessory to murder. Probably.

“You’re only an accessory if you come,” Lola tells her over a room service breakfast, and Charlotte feels like she’s going to be sick, “go sight seeing, meet me at the airport,” she shrugs, “if the cops ask you questions, just play dumb, like you do every time they come looking for Nikki or Tommy.”

“You’re not going through with this -”

“I’ll be done by midnight,” Lola’s not usually so focused and sincere, seemingly trying to ignore Charlotte’s negativity.

“Please, Lols, don’t do this; don’t do something crazy that you’ll regret,” Charlotte almost begs her, and Lola’s teeth stretch into a snarl.

“So I’m only allowed to be crazy when it benefits you, right?” She snaps, finally, and Charlotte swallows hard, eyes going wide in surprise. “Because when we rock up to your cheating ex’s house and I’ve got a baseball bat, you can call me crazy and be proud -”

“I never called you crazy,” Charlotte says through her teeth, completely unprepared to handle Lola, who’s never actually lashed out at her before.

“No, Duff called me a psycho, and you believed him, didn’t you? But I was your psycho, wasn’t I, Miss Lee,” Lola’s voice turned cruel and mocking, “it’s okay if I’m a psycho so long as you can wind me up and point me in the direction of whoever you want fucked up -”

“After fucking everything we’ve been through, you’re gonna accuse me of just using you?”

“No,” Lola said easily, flipping from feral to collected with an almost terrifying speed, “we’re friends, Charlotte, I know this, I just don’t think you’re used to my anger not benefiting you.” Her lips twitch into a cool smile, “I think you forget that we’re very different people, Charlie; before I met you, I was blowing cops to get me and Nikki out of trouble every other week, and all that’s changed is that Nikki has started bribing his way out.” it almost seems like a point of pride, and Charlotte has no fucking idea what to say to that. “But sure, I can be crazy when we’re hurting the boy who broke your little heart,” she coos in a mocking falsetto, before her expression just turns cold, “but when it comes to the woman who abused me during my formative years and set me on fire, sure,” she rolled her eyes, miming screwing a lid on a jar, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I’ll put a lid on it, for your sake.” She spat.

“I’m sorry I don’t want you to commit fucking murder,” Charlotte blurts out, realising far too late that she’s crying, and Lola’s hard resolve instantly crumbles, “I’m sorry if it seems like I’m just, just, just using you for your anger, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” and she’s just crying now, sitting in the hotel with her head in her hands, “obviously I don’t think you’re a psycho.”

“Yes you do,” Lola sighs, but it’s neither angry nor an accusation, its defeat, a label she’s worn for a long time finally spoken by one of the only people she actually respected, “and I am; there’s nothing you can do to help it.” 

“Please don’t hurt anyone, Lols, please,” Charlotte begs, and Lola heaves another deep sigh.

“Go home, Charlotte, go back to Razzle and pretend this was all a bad dream; I don’t want you living in my reality. You’re better than that.”

“You shouldn’t live in this reality; Lola, you’re scaring me, I’ve known you for half a decade, and for the first time,” Charlotte snifled, sitting up a little straighter and avoiding Lola’s dark gaze, “I’m fucking terrified, okay? You’ll go to jail for the rest of your life.”

“Small price to pay,” Lola shrugs, and Charlotte’s going from guilty to frustrated fast, but Lola’s voice turns hard, “go home, Charlotte.”

“No.”

“You’re not a felon,” Lola finally snaps, voice flat and angry, “you’re a romantic at heart with terrible taste in friends.” Finally, Lola stands, and Charlotte’s shocked into silence. 

“You’re the worst friend I’ve got,” it’s like it’s finally hit her, voice a little breathless, a little disbelieving, and Lola gives a wry smile.

“Now you’re getting it.” And she leaves. In the middle of the day. Leaves Charlotte alone and fragile in the hotel, off to do god knows what, possibly off to commit murder.

Charlotte calls Razzle; she’s never been scared of what Lola’s been capable of, maybe it’s that she’s never really thought Lola could commit murder, but now she’s afraid. The only thing that’s ever terrified Lola was her mother, and now, knowing what she knows, the truth about everything she’s been through, in some twisted way Charlotte can easily see how Lola’s made herself believe that the murder is just. Charlotte’s never known a killer, not really. Razzle reassures her over the phone, tells her that Lola’s just gone to blow off steam but that she’s got a good heart under all of it. She’s motivated by loyalty, not revenge. But then it hits them both; Lola’s mother besmirched her father’s name for years, the first person Lola ever truly loved and looked up to. The only man she’s been even more loyal to than Nikki is her father; and she’d kill for either of them in a heartbeat.

“I need to stop her,” Charlotte’s still got tear tracks drying on her cheeks when she sits bolt upright, phone still to her ear, “do I- should I call the cops?” She asks, and Razzle hesitates. It would be a betrayal that would send Lola spiraling further. 

“Go to her, you know you can talk her down; she loves you, she listens to you,” Razzle tells her, and when he says it, so sweet, so gentle, so self assured, she almost believes him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She tells him, before sniffling loudly, “wish me luck.” She tells him, feeling far more capable than she had minutes before; Razzle was good like that, was supportive like that, knew just what to say when Charlotte needed to hear it.

Charlotte knows the address that Lola was given, and heads there first, but the street is quiet, the house is quiet, and there were no signs of Lola to be seen. She drives for a bit down the road, heart beating in her throat, anxious and mind jumping to all sorts of terrible conclusions, but there’s no signs of any disturbance. Lola had been on foot, and had left only an hour and a half ago, she couldn’t have gotten far. 

At the end of the street, there’s a park, and Charlotte comes to realise that school must be on break, because it’s teaming with parents and children, and she searches, wonders, thinks she sees someone who looks a bit like Lola, but doesn’t stick around to make sure. That woman looks too old to be Lola. 

She checks bars and liquor stores and gas stations, and finally has a hit from a cashier who sold her two bottles of vodka, and the gas station attendant who had given her a pack of smokes, despite her having already gone through a quarter of a bottle in the half-mile between stores.

The only thing at the end of this street was a graveyard.

Lola’s wasted, unable to stand, sitting with her back against a faintly worn grave, mumbling to herself. 

“How could she do this to us, dad?” Is the first thing Charlotte hears from her, an angry growl. With one hand around the neck of a mostly empty vodka bottle, the other comes to forlornly pet the gravestone. Catching sight of Charlotte out of the corner of her eye, Lola’s entire expression crumbles, and for the first time in their whole sordid history, Charlotte watches Lola begin to cry. Angrily, almost defiantly, she searches her pockets, before pulling out a cigarette, lighting it.

“Dad,” Lola says to no-one in particular, looking out ahead instead of at her best friend, face scrunched with angry tears, “meet Charlotte,” she announces, and Charlotte’s words die in her throat; “Charlotte, meet my dad,” and she nods to the headstone she’s leaning against. 

“I thought -” Charlotte tries, but no words come to her.

“We’ve just been catching up,” Lola takes a long drag from the cigarette, coughing when she follows it with a swig of vodka.

“What happened?” Charlotte asks quietly, approaching like Lola was a wild animal. Lola grumbles something unintelligible, mostly under her breath, and Charlotte gingerly sits beside her.

“He was a really, really fucking good man,” Lola murmurs, forlorn, resting her head on Charlotte’s shoulder, startling the younger woman, who wasn’t quite sure how to deal with this situation just yet, “he would have loved them, Motley,” she clarified, and she takes another smoke, “he was always a huge fan of rock, always had the hair to match. Mom would call him a long-haired yahoo but it was never malicious, it just-” she was crying now, and she had to pause, “she would have loved them too, back then, but when he was gone, I think she just started hating everything that reminded her of him.” She pauses, taking another drink, her voice defeated when she finally spoke, “probably why she hated me so much." 

Silence, then;

"She has a kid.” Its the most defeated she’s ever sounded. Even Charlotte feels it like a punch to the gut. “She gets to play happy families, and I get to slowly dig myself an early grave,” she finishes her cigarette and immediately lights another.

“Lo, what happened?” Charlotte asked once more, and Lola turns to her, eyes bloodshot and mouth in a thin, unhappy line.

“Nothing.” It sounds like it hurts to admit, “because I’m not a psycho,” she says quietly, “I’m not gonna hurt that kid.”

“Your… sibling?” Charlotte almost winces as she says it, but Lola laughs in an almost disbelieving way, leaning her head back against her father’s gravestone.

“My little brother; Milo, I think. I didn’t stick around long… she doesn’t even know I’m here." 

Charlotte wraps her arm around Lola’s shoulder, pulls her in for a hug, and Lola melts into her, lets herself be pulled into hug, her head on Charlotte’s shoulder as she cries unashamedly. They sit on the grave of Lola’s father until it gets dark, wrapped up in each other, giving comfort and getting drunk, and there’s stories spilling from Lola that she’d never told anyone; happy times from before her shit got dark, before her father passed, stories she’d thought she’d forgotten. 

"Did you mean what you said?” Charlotte asks finally, voice fragile, vodka burning through her veins, “do you think I have bad taste in friends?” Lola contemplates for a long while before humming.

“I think you deserve better than me. And Nikki. I think you’ve got good friends, Peach and Eileen, they’re good friends,” Lola nods resolutely, “they wouldn’t drag you down to Boston just to argue with you and watch them chicken out on murdering their mom.”

“They don’t wanna murder their mom to begin with,” Charlotte agrees with a half laugh, her arm tucked into Lola’s, resting her cheek on Lola’s shoulder. Lola hums an agreement. Gently, she rests her head against Charlotte’s.

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

They gaze out into the graveyard, tired, drunk, and world-weary beyond their years. Moments like these are a sharp reminder to Charlotte, of just how terrifying Lola’s world can be, and just how lonely she once was. The way Lola clings to the band, to Charlotte, it very suddenly made clear and perfect sense. 

“You’re not the worst friend I’ve got, Lols, not even close; you give a shit when it counts the most. About me, about our band-family; you give so much of a shit you’d kill for us. You’re probably the most loyal person I’ve ever met.” Charlotte tells her honestly, and Lola’s quiet, before sniffling loudly, and laughing.

“Stop it, Miss Lee, I promised Tommy I wouldn’t have a thing for any more of his family,” Lola jokes, but hugs Charlotte tightly as she squawks with horrified amusement. 

Its a considerable walk back to the hotel, but as Lola crashes onto the soft mattress of the bed, she feels worlds lighter than when she’d woken up.

[cchellacat]

Thank You for Your Service pt5

gif by @spacemansam

Darcy/Bucky

Warning: Possible trigger for assault, although it’s brief.

Darcy doesn't care at first where her feet are taking her, she just walks, head down, through the crowd, she just needs some space. The street is brightly lit, people out, alone or in groups. |She steadfastly ignores the couples holding hands and looking like they were walking off the pages of some romance novel.

She's always loved the city at night.  The rush less hurried, the real people of New York out and about living life, being honest and real.  The sound of the cars driving by, the occasional sound of a horn, the cursing as people walk out in front of traffic, the colorful language of the natives.

This is her home, it's where she feels grounded and safe.  It's part of what she hates about being cooped up all the time.  She misses the freedom to walk out and forget the world and just live in the moment of the city.  Breath in the smog and not think about where her feet take her, find some little hole in the wall that serves good food or wine, or both.

She keeps walking, missing the way her feet lead her off the main thoroughfare and down a street less brightly lit, misses the figure that's been following her since she left the tower.  She's wandering aimlessly, trying to figure out what she should do next, her head going round in circles thinking of him.

Darcy’s honestly just so tired, she’s been on edge for weeks. The constant ache of wanting what she's told she can’t have, intruding on her dreams, filling the spaces in the hours while she works.  Their encounter in the car had been fantastic, earth shattering, mind blowing… fuck, it had felt like more than just sex, it had shaken her to the core.

The feeling of connection that had formed between them, him filling her, making her whole, it had made her think he’d changed his mind.  Had she misread something? Darcy casts the thought aside, what was the point in second guessing? All this wallowing and wondering is what she’s trying to get away from, nothing was going right in her life recently.

Every decision she made seemed to make things worse, not better. It would be easy to blame it on Tony or Jane or even a host of other outside factors but the truth was that she’s been making impulsive decisions, not taking the time to think things through.  She just needed a time out, a moment to think, to re-evaluate what she was doing. When she spots the bar there is a split second of hesitation before she quickly makes her way inside. She’ll think about it tomorrow, tonight she needed to drink and forget, just for a minute.

The man stops and watches as she crosses into the pub, waiting before slowly following her inside.

Jackson Heights

Bucky watches the place from the security feed and sees nothing to indicate there’s anyone currently inside.  He checks his weapons and the team all agree on a plan of action before they leave, closing in on the small apartment.  

It’s in a bad neighbourhood, with a high crime rate .  The apartment block is run down, graffiti covers the walls, a few gang signs and tags take prominence.  The stairwell smells of stale beer and the scent of weed hangs heavy in the damp corridors. The report indicated Keane might have been here for as long as two weeks.  It leaves a deep feeling of apprehension in his gut, knowing the man who had hurt her has been so close for so long. He doesn’t know what to expect, what they might find, but nothing could have prepared him for the revelation waiting inside.

They get in quick and quiet, there’s no resistance as they enter.   All the rooms are cleared quickly and Bucky is left to stare at the wall in the main room.  

There are hundreds of pictures of he and Darcy, taken all over New York, going right back to the time he first came to the tower, covering every wall of the room.  

The first of them he recognised with a growing coldness, shots taken of them in the damn library, Darcy in his lap while he kissed her.  How the fuck had Keane gotten so close, so near, without Bucky knowing?  

Icy dread fills him, there are so many taken right outside the tower, Keane had to be following them every time they left… the angles of the shots, how close they were?  He had to have an excellent camera, something with a telescopic lens, but the type of equipment would be noticed, he’d stick out like a sore thumb, you couldn’t not be noticed carrying a camera like that around, not unless….  

Horrifying realisation sweeps through him.  He’d been so fucking stupid, the one place he didn't look, the only people he ignored.  The only people in New York that people pretended weren’t there, that got shunned and pushed out the way if they came too close.  He was posing as a fucking photographer, one of the many paparazzi who hung out around the Tower, waiting for Stark or one of the Avengers. Fuck... and they had been there tonight.  Tonight when he had taken her to the restaurant and after, when he’d been seconds away from telling her everything before she’d went inside…  

It’s only then, standing in the messy apartment, her face staring at him from the walls that he begins to question what he saw tonight, too distracted by the call to double check….

He’s striding from the apartment with  shouted instructions and jogging down the stairs, phone clamped to his ear, ringing her number, it was going straight to voicemail.  He ignores the shout from behind him and keeps going, tapping the com and being put through to the tower.

“Jarvis?  Tell me Darcy is in the Tower?”

“I’m sorry Sergeant Barnes, Miss Lewis left the Tower with you tonight but did not return.  Would you like me to inform Sir?”

“Not yet Jarvis, can you ping Darcy’s phone for me?”

“I’m sorry sir, but I can't get a location, her phone appears to be turned off.”

“Try her tracer. She’s meant to wear it, I know she had it on tonight, she was wearing the necklace Stark gave her.”

“I have a last known location, three blocks from the tower, a bar called Oakley’s.”

He grabs his bike and mounts, not bothering with the helmet and rides back to the city, breaking every speed limit and trying to coordinate by com with Hill.  He needed a clear path back and couldn’t be delayed by some well meaning cop.

Traffic seems to be against him, even with every light miraculously in his favour he feels the seconds ticking by, knowing each one brings her closer to danger.  He’s blaming himself, he should have checked, made sure she had actually gone inside, fuck. He’d had his eyes off her for a few seconds. Had she been taken? Or had she just walked off?  The tracer said she was at the bar, but that didn't mean anything, not with how much intel Keane might have picked up from watching them so closely.  The bar sounded familiar though, then it strikes him why.  He knew that bar, knew exactly which one, the same one they had met in.

What were the chances she had gone there,that she would still be there when he arrived? He gunned the motor again and overtook a red buick, the driver blaring his horn and shouting curses at him as he sped past.  Almost there, another few blocks and he’d have her.

Oakley's Bar

Darcy takes her usual seat at the bar and orders a scotch and ice.   It seems like the sort of drink she needs right now, something hard and biting.  Something that will hold her up later for whatever speech her erstwhile mancrush has cooked up this time.  She has no doubt he’ll follow her, he always does.

She sips the drink and ignores the other patrons at the bar, she’s not in the mood for some bullshit come on or a good time.  She came here to drink away the pain and the feelings and the angst.  

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just any guy though, was he?  God, if it had been anyone else she would have been long over the whole thing but he was different.  She knocks back the drink and signals for a second.

She’d been sitting right here the night they first met. She’d spotted him nearly a half hour before Ian had turned up but the guy had put off such a keep away vibe that she’d done her best to reel back the flirting she had wanted to do and kept to herself.  It had only been Ian’s presence that had made her throw away caution and good manners, instead, begging for the handsome man’s help. When he’d slipped his arm about her waist and scared Ian off she’d been so surprised, but right from that first touch she’d felt it.  What was it all those sappy writers would say? She felt a spark? His touch was electric? It would be funny if it weren’t so true.  

Darcy sighs into her drink, drains it and signals the barkeep for another.  She’d only vaguely aware of someone slipping into the seat next to her. Ignores the first two attempts to engage her in conversation with an icy glare.  The third time the guy touches her arm and she snaps at him.

Across  the bar a shadowy figure watches her  from the corner, shrouded in darkness, Darcy never notices him.  He keeps his gaze trained on her as she argues with the son of a senator.  

When she gets off the stool and shrugs her jacket back on, he follows her.

She’s out the door and half way down the sidewalk when someone grabs her, pulling her up short.  The grip is tight on her arm and she can smell the alcohol and stale cologne as her assailant jerks her against him.

“Let me go!”

She wrenches her arm from his grip, it’s the  same guy who had been trying to chat her up for  hours. The guy is average in every way to her eyes, although, had she met him before she finished college she might have thought him cute.  It seemed though, that knowing and meeting gods and super soldiers had skewed her idea of attractive. He’s lean, dark hair, almost pretty if it weren’t for the mean glint in his eye and the twist of his lips.  

“Come on baby, don’t you know who I am?”

“No, I don’t, nor do I care, I said no you jack ass now back off!”

She turns again to leave, walking quickly, not looking back and for the first time, reconsidering her ill fated idea to leave the protection she’d been given and ignored.  It’s not like Bucky not to show up, to not know where she is. Even as she had decided to walk away from the tower tonight, she’d still expected him to turn up, instead it seemed by some quirk of fate she'd actually slipped past him, at the worst possible time.

Footsteps echo behind her as she speeds up, cursing the fancy heels which are slowing her escape.  

The footsteps come closer and she digs in her pocket for the small hand held taser Tony had insisted she carry with her at all times.  She can feel it, the fear tightening her belly, her shoulders ridged as she half runs, she knows she’s not getting away but she’d hoped if she could make it another block to where the crowds were busier she’d get help.

When it happens, she freezes for a split second, the harsh grip clamping around the back of her neck, terror swallows her senses.  All she can feel is the vice dragging her back by her neck, she drops, bringing up her shoulders and ducking but he grabs her hair wrenching her head back even as she falls to her knees.  The yelp she lets out is high and clear, but she swings her fist up as she cranes her neck to see him bending over her, feels the sudden release of her hair and the swirl of satisfaction as her knuckles throb from the nose she’s just broken before she fires the taser.  He yells and curses at her, his hand swinging and catching her with a back handed blow even as he stumbles back, falling to the ground unconscious, it throws her to the pavement, her head slamming into concrete and then there is the sound of running and blue lights and she dizzily becomes aware of the commotion of people. 

Bucky arrives at the bar, jumping from the bike and striding through the doors.  The place is small, it’s the work of seconds to ascertain that she’s gone. Before he can cross the room to question the  bartender his phone rings and Stark's face lights up the screen of the smartphone. He barks out his name by way of hello.

“Barnes, do you want to tell me why I just got a call from my lawyer telling me my daughter just got arrested and is being held at the 17th Precinct?”

Stark’s voice becomes louder and higher as he questions him, Bucky can hear the stress and anger in his tone.

“I’m on my way, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”  he’s remounting the bike and gunning the engine even as Stark reams him out.

“Seriously?  When I get there you had better have a damn good explanation as to why she was alone.”

Bucky sighs and pushes the bike out again, turning it south.  If she’s in police custody at least she’s safe. He's not sure what he'll do when he sees her though, the relief of knowing where she is wars with the helpless anger he could still feel burning in his gut when he realised she had slipped off.

  17th Precinct.

Happy draws up outside the precinct, it's telling that Tony doesn’t wait for him to open the door, instead letting himself out and rushing inside, phone clamped to his ear as he shouts at his lawyers to get their asses down there.

Happy’s meant to be retired, but following Tony and watching his back has become ingrained in him. He could head home now, they’d only been out for dinner when Tony got the call. Maybe it’s the habits of a life time but he takes up his familiar place at Tony's side.

Happy does his best to keep the reporters swarming at bay and away from Tony but the story is already spreading.  It’s the wrong story of course but its still damaging.  

His phone is giving off constant notifications from media outlets, all seeming to be ecstatic to trail out the same narrative.

“Stark’s Strumpet Shocks Senator's Son”.

His old friend is fuming, and why wouldn’t he be?  The only question left right now wasn’t if Tony would announce the truth, that Darcy was a Stark, it was what he’d do to the people responsible for the slander.  

Happy slips his hand into his pocket and takes out his com unit, he’d kept it on him for the last month, reluctant to give it up for some reason.  With a grim smile he tucks it into his ear and taps it twice, the comforting voice of Jarvis coming across the line, and he gets to work securing the area.

He places himself in front of the doors just as the familiar roar of Barnes’s Harley drawing up causes the swarm to turn their attention away from him.  

The ex assassin is grim faced as he approaches and Happy tamps down the urge to step back.  This is not how his evening was meant to go, dealing with pissed off superheroes was never meant to be part of his life and his plans for retirement were fast going out the window.  How could he go now, when Tony and his family still needed him? And he’d missed the kid, decision made he squares his shoulders and meets Barnes with a confident nod.

Bucky parks the bike behind Stark's custom Audi.  The car’s a tank in it’s own right, reinforced bullet proof glass and if he’s right the vehicle was more secure than even Fury’s SUV had been.  

He pulls Happy to one side before entering the station.

“Keane’s been in the area, keep sharp.  There’s evidence to suggest he’s been posing as a pap.”

Happy’s eyes widen but he nods, keeping his gaze from wandering to the crowd of reporters and paparazzi as he gives Barnes a short rundown of the situation.

“I’ve got Willis and Shaw posted at the other entrances and Friday has control of all CCTV in a five block area, you better get in there, Tony’s losing his goddamn mind.”

Bucky nods and slips through the doors.

He spots Stark almost immediately, arguing with the chief of police. He crosses the foyer and stands to one side of Stark who gives him a sharp nod.

“I want to see her.”

“As I’ve told you Mr Stark, she’s in an interview room now.  The Senator is pressing charges. She discharged an illegal weapon.  That can't be ignored.”

“And I’ve told you, the weapon she had isn’t a taser, it’s a high voltage anti assault device and she wouldn’t have used it if she wasn't being threatened.  My lawyers will be here shortly, until they are I want her personal security with her.”

Bucky scans the room as Stark continues to argue then discreetly slips away, heading to where Darcy is most likely being held.  Stark covers for him smoothly, turning the chiefs attention away from Bucky by calling out to his freshly appeared attorney.

Darcy sits in the interview room, ignoring the one way mirror and the ugly reflection it holds.  She’s a mess, her make-up is smeared and it can’t hide the purpling bruise rising beneath the skin on her left cheek.  They gave her an ice pack for her head but little else. They’ve had her here for about half an hour although it feels much longer.  The dizziness thankfully passed quickly, she doesn’t think she has a concussion, but her face feels stiff and achy.  

She spent the time since they put her in here worrying over what Tony, Bucky and no doubt Jane would say.  She should have stayed in the bar and called for a car, she should never have left Bucky like that, she should have gone inside.  “If only” and “what if”, seemed to be going in circles in her head. They’d given her one phone call and she’d done the only thing she could think of and called Tony’s lawyer, Harvey Specter.  He’d told her to say nothing till he got there, so she’d done as he said and sat tight.

The door opening startles her more than it should and she raises a hand to her heart in fright then locks eyes with Bucky and the tears she had been holding back since they put her here quickly rushed to the surface along side a stifled sob of anguish she couldn’t keep in.  

She can see he’s angry, for about a second, then he gets a good look at her and the frown dissolves into worry.  She doesn’t register standing but she must have because the next thing she knows she’s in his arms and she feels safe again.  

He crushes her to him, pressing her body to his and holding her tightly.  Darcy curls into his hold, clinging to him even as his hands move over her, she represses the hysterical giggle bubbling up.  Even now, he’s checking for breaks or injuries, his hand moving up into her hair and finding the nasty bump caused by her brief contact with the ground.

“Darcy..  Baby doll, fuck, what happened?  Are you alright?”

She can’t answer, just shakes her head and burrows into his chest.   It’s not like her, she knows that, but the last few hours have drained her of all her defenses.  There’s nothing left for her to hide behind or draw strength from, the only real thing in her world in that instant is him.  Solid and real and providing the anchor she needs.

Bucky holds her up, he can feel she’s barely standing on her own.   The bruise on her face looks bad, probably worse than it is, but he worries anyway, especially when he discovers the goose egg on the back of her head.  He manages to get her to look up at him, checking her eyes to make sure she’s not concussed, they’re full of unshed tears, making the deep blue of her irises sparkle in the dim light.  

She’d crumpled like wet tissue when she saw him, this isn’t the girl he knows, this isn’t the Darcy’s he’s seen tackle things head on. Whatever had happened tonight has spooked her.

He soothes her as best he can, whispering reassurances into her hair and pressing kisses to her brow.  He can feel her shaking, the race of her heartbeat, it’s an almost crippling reminder of her fragility, that as strong as she wants people to think she is, she is still as vulnerable as anyone else.  

“I’m sorry, I just…  I … Bucky I’m sorry…”

“Hey, no… Doll, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.  I don’t know why you went off like you did, but it can wait.  I’m just glad you’re safe. Can you tell me what happened?”

She does so in halted steps, explains about the guy bothering her at the bar, about him following her.  He wants to hunt the little punk down and teach him a lesson, still might if he ever crosses path with the guy. The only relief he has is that it wasn’t Keane.  That’s something else he has to worry about, he’s going to draw a line. He can’t continue like this and neither can she. Tomorrow he’s going to explain everything to her and hope she can understand.

He cups her face gently, thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

“You did good Darce, took that asshole down and protected yourself.  You’re strong, don’t forget that.”

“I panicked…  Bucky I froze…  “ she trailed off.  “I… when I was in college I was with this guy he…”   She broke of, biting her lip suddenly feeling she was about to say too much.

Bucky feels frozen, he knows what she wants to tell him, and he can’t pretend he doesn’t, the words escape him before he can change his mind.

“Hey…  I know, Darcy…" he tells her gently.  "I know what happened, it’s part of your file.”

Her first instinct is to put space between them.  She’s held the memory of her past close, kept it secret.  Him knowing what happened to her, it makes her feel exposed and vulnerable.  She tries to pull away but he doesn’t let go,

“Why is that on my file it…  It was years ago, long before Tony even found out about me.”

“I’m pretty sure Jarvis can find out anything, besides, it’s just SOP for any sort of personal security job Doll, I’m meant to know this stuff, it’s my job.”  He’s cursing his own choice of words even before he sees the way her expression twists and she tries to pull away from him again, this time he lets her take that step, knowing somehow that in this she needs to stand alone, on her own strength.

“I am so fucking sick of hearing you tell me that this or that is your job…”

“I know and I’m sorry.   Listen, I’m gonna make this right Darcy, just give me till tomorrow.  I’m finished wasting time, trying to wait this out. I want to be with you doll, now, right now.  Nothing that happened in the past changes how I feel about you. You went through hell and you came out the other side.  You’re amazing, you take my breath away. I’m here, when you’re ready I’ll listen, if you never are, I’ll still be here, don’t pull away from me now, please Doll.”  He reaches for her, one hand held out, beseeching.

Darcy takes a breath, her eyes straying to that hand, open, offering her everything she’s needed for so long.  She sees the honesty in his eyes and places her hand in his, feels herself calming under his touch and breathes. He knows, fuck he probably knows everything.  Jarvis was nothing if not thorough and the majority of what had happened with Keane was on public record, the trial had been all over the local papers at the time.  

She nods her head and relaxes again into his arms as he draws her back against his strong chest, closing her eyes as his head rests on hers.  She can trust him. He would never hurt like that, she knows it already. For all the violence that lies under the surface, Bucky isn’t that kind of guy.  He’s one of the most deadly and dangerous men alive, but he’s incapable of hurting her the way Keane had. At his core he was good, honourable and gentle. He maintained the balance inside himself, one of constant self regulation, he had demons, but he controlled them and never the other way around.  What had happened to her with Keane had been a crucible, one she had come through stronger than before. Darcy breaths him in, letting his familiar scent calm her.  

"I just want to go home Bucky."

"I know doll, your dad's working on it."

Bucky scoops her up and sits on the chair, Darcy safely ensconced in his lap.  She snuggles in and he tucks her head under his chin.

"Did you mean it?  About us?"

"Every word baby girl."

"Okay."

He presses a kiss to the crown of her head and she feels her eyes begin to shut.  He's warm and safe and the way he strokes her arm over and over lulls her into sleep.  She doesn't fight it, lets it happen, Bucky's here and he won't leave her.

 The first thing that greets Pepper as she hurries through the doors of the station is Tony's voice sharp and cutting. She spots him immediately, waving his hands as he argues with Senator Griffin. The Senator is not one Tony or the Avengers are on good terms with.  Phil Coulson and Steve stand off to one side watching the show as are most of the officers and the chief of police, who has wisely stepped back from the two men.

 "What's going on?"

 Phil smiles warmly.

 "Tony just dropped the daughter bombshell.  Senator Griffin is currently back tracking. He may loath Tony on principal but he's not stupid.  The narrative changing from suspected mistress to innocent daughter means he'll lack all public support if he presses ahead with charges, especially since Tony just threatened to sue his son for the attempted sexual assault of his daughter.  It'll look terrible for his constituents and with the election coming up he'll risk his seat if he tries to fight this."

 "Harvey?"

 "He's dealing with the media fallout, calling a press conference.  Griffin’s lawyer walked in, saw Harvey and walked out again, not that I think that's going to matter at this point."  Phil gestures towards Tony.

 Pepper makes her way over quickly, she knows that expression, Tony knows he's won and is about to press the advantage.

 "Senator Griffin."  she greets the red faced man before turning to Tony and kissing his cheek.

 "Light of my life."

 "Tony.  Have you seen Darcy yet, is she alright?"

 "Barnes is with her.  If she was badly hurt he'd have taken her back to the tower already."

 "Barnes?"  Griffin questions, paling.

 "Our head of security and Darcy's boyfriend."  Pepper relays smoothly.

 "The Winter Soldier?"  he asks, patting at his forehead with a handkerchief.

 "The very same."  Tony's smile is shark like, teeth bared with threat.

 "I'll have the charges dropped Mr Stark-"

 "Dr Stark."  Pepper intones sweetly.  "His proper title is Dr Stark, he has four Phds Senator, after all I know how much stock you put in proper etiquette."

 "Of course Miss Potts-"

 "Mrs Stark."  Tony cuts him off, pulling Pepper closer.

 "Well, I'm sure we all have other things that warrant our attention right now, if you'll excuse us Senator, I'd like to collect my daughter and take her home."

 She feels Tony's grip on her waist tighten as she claims Darcy as hers.  It's only right after all, the girl has no mother of her own, hasn't since she was three years old.  It's no different than the relationship she's been building with Peter, a son she never expected to have, but she finds the role of mother to them keenly lately, perhaps because she's found out that there will soon be a third Stark heir to join the first two.  She hasn't told Tony yet, it's early, only five weeks. They had been trying for years for a baby. She resists the urge to cover her abdomen with her hand and leads Tony away. Perhaps the press conference would be smoothed out with an announcement of that fact.  It was also getting harder to hide Peters true role in Tony's life. A united front, a little bit of spin and this whole mess would be forgotten about, the media too busy with chattering about who would be tipped to lead SI in the future. Better that than them hashing and rehashing this incident and speculating on Darcy's role at the Tower.

 "That was a nice move, telling that ass that Barnes was her boyfriend."

 "He is her boyfriend, or at least there’s something going on with them Tony."  Pepper sighs.

 "What?"

 "Tony...  She's been pinning over him for weeks and he looks at her like she hung the moon...  Have you really not noticed?"

 "They're together?"

 "If they're not, they soon will be.  Don't mess this up for her Tony, she's old enough to decide who she dates."

 "I know that... it's just..."

 "I know.  But he's not that man anymore and he'll look after her.  He's a good man, I think he might make her happy if they get their chance."

 Tony nods, thinking it over.

 "I guess it wouldn't be the worst match.  At least I know she'll be in safe hands, he'll never let her out of his sight after this though."

 "That's for them to work out Tony.  I think you should give him the chance to hire some enhanced to the security division for protection for Darcy and Peter.  They'll need it moire than anyone else."

 "Yeah, Agent will have three fits if I poach from his operatives though."

 "Well, a little bird told me that Skye and Ward are looking to leave Shield. Who better to hire than Quake and Firestorm?  They'd be useful back up for the team too in emergencies."

 "An ex hydra Agent and a hacktivist?"

 "Ward's family is old money and even though his brother was disgraced, his rescue of the Presidents family during the fall of Shield gives him a very high profile.  Same with Skye, she saved Sokovia with her power and helped stop Ultron and capture the Maximov Twins. Having them attached to SI will be positive press for the company and it will give the media something else to chew on after this press conference.  I think we should lead with Darcy's identity then Peters, take a few short questions then announce my pregnancy before leaving the podium, it should shock them enough that a coherent narrative of any of this will fall flat."

 "Yup, that sound....  Wait... You're pregnant?"

 "Yes Tony."

 "So the dream I had..."

 "Yes Tony.  Morgan Stark is on the way."

 He knows who’s approaching the door just from the tread of the footsteps.  Steve might be able to walk silently but he knows better than to creep up on Bucky, his footfalls are heavy as he approaches the interview room.  Bucky shifts Darcy a little on his knee. He’s not exactly told his friend about what had been happening between he and Darcy, not quite ready to explain to Steve what was going on, not when he had still been trying to stubbornly figure it out by himself.  The brief knock before the door opened had his hands tighten on the precious cargo in his arms.  

 Steve’s face peered round the door before he slipped inside, closing it behind him.  He gave nothing away in his expression as he took in the way Darcy was curled possessively in his arms.  

 “We’re ready to go.  They’ve dropped the charges and Specter's argued them into scrubbing her record.  You want me to take your bike back to the Tower?”

 “Yeah, that would be great.  Could you let them know we’ll be out in a minute.”

 Steve nods and retreats to the door, but turns before opening it.

 “I know it’s not any of my business but-”

 “It’s not.”  Bucky cuts him off a little sharply.

 “You can’t keep her in the dark forever.”

 Bucky sighs.

 “I know.  I was planning to tell her in the morning.  Right now she needs to rest.”

 Steve nods and opens the door, slipping out as silently as he entered.

 “Oh, and Buck…  I’m happy for you.”

 Steve grins that shit eating grin that used to get him in trouble nearly a century ago, before closing the door with a click.

 Before he can recover from that, Darcy shifts and he looks down to find her blue eyes staring up at him curiously.

 “What did he mean?”

 Fuck.  This is not where or when he planned to have this conversation.

 “About what?”  Bucky hopes she didn’t hear Steve’s comment but the look in her eye indicated that he’s hanging on for a miracle.  

 “Keeping me in the dark.”

 “Darce..”

 “No.  I’ve had enough of people keeping things from me.  Just tell me.”

 She pushes herself to her feet and he immediately missed the warm weight of her.

 “The threat against you, it’s more than Stark and I told you.”

 “Bad enough you kept it from me for months?”

 “Darce..”

 “Well don’t stop now, just tell me.  You said you were planning to before this happened, so just spill.”

 “Keane was transformed during the terrigenisis outbreak.”

 He stands, noting the confusion that floods to horror filled realisation on her face.

 “Darce..”

 “No!”  She steps back, hugging her arms around her.

 “He’s in prison.  I thought Shield took custody of anyone who transformed in the general population of all prisons.”

 “They did Darcy…  but he escaped before they could pick him up.”

 “Escaped?  When?”

 “Ten weeks ago.”

 “The same week Tony told me I needed a bodyguard.”

 “Yes.”

 “You’ve known, all this time.  You know what he did to me. And you didn't tell me?”

 “Doll, you gotta understand I..,”

 “No, no I don’t have to understand anything.  You knew what he did to me, you told me you saw my file.  You slept with me. How could you keep that from me? How could you let me waltz around New York like that with no idea…  What are his powers? What can he do?”

 She was pacing, hands buried in her hair as she gradually grew paler.

 “We don’t know exactly what his power is.  There’s been some evidence that his escape was orchestrated by an outside agency.”

 “You mean Hydra.”

 “We don’t know that.  We’ve kept back channels open, there’s been no word from any of our agents that Keane’s been sighted with any Hydra cell.”

 “That doesn’t mean he isn’t.”

 “No.”  Bucky concedes.  Then he reaches for her arm, stopping the frenzied pacing.

 “Darce…  We’re going to find him, I promise. I won’t let him hurt you.  FBI and Shield both put kill orders out on him…”

 Darcy’s eyes grow wide.

 “You took the contract.”

 He nods, mouth set.

 Darcy takes a breath, then another, shaking, before pushing away from him and doubling over as she runs to the waste basket.

 Bucky is only a step behind her, gathering her hair back as she vomits, his other hand steadying her.  When nothing else would come up he helped her to a chair and left the room, looking for water.

 Pepper stood outside the door, water bottle in hand and frowned as she spotted Darcy’s shivering form huddled on the chair.

 “Pepper…  I-”

 “I’ll take care of her.  Go sort out our security escort and cars.  Darcy will ride with Tony and I in the Audi.  Happy will drive us. You’re welcome to join us.”

 Bucky looked back at Darcy, his hands curled into fists.

 “I’m not sure she wants me anywhere near her right now.  Did you hear us?”

 “I heard.  I’ll handle Darcy.  Call Jane, let her know what’s happened and that we’re on the way back.”  he nods and gets a few steps away when Peppers voice stops him. “And Barnes?  Just because she’s hurting right now doesn’t mean she won’t want you there protecting her, give it time.  She’s had a big shock to deal with.” Bucky searches her face, looking for some clue to why the older woman was so sure of what she said.  Kind blue eyes meet his, understanding and sympathy shining through.

 “Thank you.”

 She nods and steps inside, letting the door swing closed.  Bucky squares his shoulders and makes his way to the front.  He has a job to do.

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