#esp with my sister moving back in.....sigh......

[ticklishfiend]

The Gaang Gets Zuko (ATLA)

lee!zuko , ler!gaang :P

A/N : im having sooo much fun with this show rn, esp having fun attacking zuko as much as possible LOL im going bonkers. there’s no clear story or plot in this one, just the gaang being silly and zuko getting to be silly with them :P

Summary : separate short stories of each member of the gaang tickling zuko (and one where Zuko actually gets one back, read to find out who hehe)

Word Count : 5139

hope u enjoy!! <3

-

It was strange how relaxed Zuko was starting to feel. The air seemed easier to breathe these days, despite everything he knew they were all about to go through. But that’s just it. Zuko knows he’s not alone. He has people, good people, behind him. Though he misses his Uncle greatly, it keeps Zuko motivated to know Iroh would be proud to see how far he’s come since they’d been separated.

Things are looking up, despite it all, and Zuko’s especially happy he gets to feel that in good company.

“So, like this, right?” Aang asked, getting into position for the new firebending move Zuko’s trying to teach him. 

“Um…not quite,” Zuko walked behind him, grabbing his shoulders to gently adjust his stance. “You want your shoulders back a little more, it’ll help your balance. And you should have your waist turned a bit to the side, like this…” Zuko gently gripped onto Aang’s sides, but was startled at how quickly Aang jumped away with a surprised laugh.

“Aaah–tickles, tickles!” Aang giggled, rubbing the sensation away with his arms.

Zuko frowned with his hands on his hips, “Seriously? I barely touched you.”

Katara snickered as she watched them train, bending water in the air lazily like a fidget. “Aang’s more sensitive than most. Remember that wound your sister gave him on his foot? Yeah, that took way, way longer than it should have. He wouldn’t stop squirming.”

“It’s not my fault your water’s so tickly!” Aang cringed at the memory. He took a deep breath before turning back to Zuko, getting into position. “Okay, I’m ready this time. You just surprised me.”

Zuko lifted an eyebrow before trying again, this time with less giggly results. Zuko wasn’t used to such silliness when it came to training, but it was endearing to see Aang was comfortable enough with him to act like that (even if it was slightly annoying).

They trained for another 15 or so minutes before Zuko called for a break, ready for his pre-lunch meditation. He leaned down to gather some of his scattered things into a bag, not noticing the figure creeping up behind him. Before he knew it, Zuko felt two hands give quick pinches to his hip. “AH-! Ggghaha-!” a strangled giggle fell out of him before he could stop it, squirming out of the grip and whipping his body around.

Aang stood behind him with a grin and hands raised in surrender, “Sorry, I had to get you back for earlier.”

Zuko scowled with a pink face, trying very hard to ignore Katara giggling behind Aang. “But I wasn’t even trying to tickle you earlier,” he groaned, turning back around but keeping his guard up. “It’s unfair catching me off guard like that.”

“Yeah, but you gotta admit, that sound you just made was pretty funny,” Aang snickered, sitting down next to Katara and stealing some of her water to fidget with as well. 

Zuko sighed, turning around to hide his warm face. “Whatever, I’m gonna meditate. Don’t bother me unless it’s for lunch,” he said before walking out of their view to his normal meditation spot.

-

Zuko was sat on his bed reading a book Uncle had given him forever ago. Being on the run meant he never really had time to just sit and read (and maybe it was partly his pride that wouldn’t allow him to do something he deemed so lazy), but honestly it wasn’t half bad. Sure, he could be training right now, but everyone else seemed content doing their own thing so maybe that was okay for him too. Uncle always said proper relaxation was an important tool for a warrior to learn.

His reading time, however, was cut short when he heard a knock at his doorway. Zuko looked up to see Sokka peeking his head around the corner.

“You need something?” Zuko asked, sitting his book down on the bed.

“Well, I–uh…” Sokka cleared his throat shuffling awkwardly in the doorway. “I was just wondering if you would, uh–help me out with something? It’s nothing major! You really don’t have to if you don’t wanna, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate with, y’know, training the Avatar and everything, but like, I mean, if you maybe had the time–”

“Sokka,” Zuko interrupted his ramblings, holding the book up for him to see. “I’m not exactly doing anything important right now. I can do you a favor if you need it.”

Sokka sighed, “Okay, that’s good to hear because I really need your help right now,” he shuffled into Zuko’s room defeatedly, plopping himself next to the prince and throwing his head in his hands. “I think I sorta suck at hand-to-hand combat.”

Zuko nearly laughed at that. “Are you serious? You guys managed to take out every team I threw at you, and you think you’re bad at combat?”

“Yeah, but that was when I had everybody with me! You know, benders?!” Sokka sighed, “I’m not a bender, so having them with me to fight is like, insanely helpful. But…what if I end up alone at the next battle? What if I lose my sword? I’ll be useless! I need to know how to fight with my fists at least a little before we go out there.”

All this did was confuse Zuko even more. “Your girlfriend is a Kyoshi Warrior. Why aren’t you asking her for help? She’s the only other non-bender on the team, it seems pretty obvious.”

Sokka blushed and turned his head away, “Well that’s…actually part of it,” he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, “She’s so good at combat. And she’s a great teacher, don’t get me wrong! Everything I know about fighting, it came from her. But…I feel so stupid. We spar all the time, but she’s the one teaching me the moves, she knows what strategy I’m gonna take! I kinda…I wanna impress her during our next spar. Maybe show her something she hasn’t seen me do before,” Sokka looked up at Zuko with an unsure face. “I thought maybe you could teach me a thing or two?”

Zuko just stared for a moment, thinking it over. Sokka had that puppy-dog look on his face he always gets when he’s trying to win someone over…unfortunately for Zuko, he’s really good at that face. 

Zuko sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before standing and making his way towards the door. “I can’t promise it’ll help you any. I’m better at fighting with my bending than just plain combat. You’re already in good hands with Suki.”

Sokka jumped up, following behind Zuko like a puppy. “I know, but I just wanna see if it helps,” he wrapped an arm around the back of Zuko’s neck as they walked, the boy in question not acknowledging the touch whatsoever. “Can’t hurt to try, right?”

Zuko peeked an eye towards Sokka. “Whatever.”

They found an open area to spar, somewhere away from everyone else so no one could spill the “secret” to Suki. Not like anyone actually cared, but Sokka insisted this was the best move to make. 

They fought for a while, Sokka showing off the moves he learned from Suki, and Zuko trying to teach him anything that popped into his head that Sokka might not already know. But…the spar wasn’t really turning out the way Zuko had envisioned before they started.

Sokka was actually really good at this. Like, stupid good. Way better than he had given himself credit for just about an hour ago. He’d already pinned Zuko probably 5 times, and Zuko only got him down once. It was sorta embarrassing. Zuko kept reminding himself that the guy had been trained by a literal Kyoshi warrior, so it shouldn’t be that surprising.

Still, though. It did take a tiny blow to his ego that the guy asking him for training was practically kicking his butt right now.

“Woohoo! Down for the count again!” Sokka whooped from behind Zuko. The boy was pinned on his front, arms behind his back.

“I thought you wanted help,” Zuko wheezed, twisting his wrists in Sokka’s hold to no avail. “Now it feels like you just wanted bragging rights,” he mumbled.

Sokka didn’t say anything. Actually, he just kept looking down at Zuko with this look. His eyes a little wide, his lips sucked behind his teeth. 

You’re kidding. You’re kidding.

“Are you serious?!” Zuko yelled, starting to actually fight under Sokka’s hold now that he felt thoroughly pissed off. “Why would you lie about that?! You could’ve just asked for a spar!”

Sokka stammered, “Well, I was serious at first! I wasn’t lying! I really did want your help!” He paused, baring his teeth a little in guilt. “Buuuut…after we started sparring, I realized I was way better than I thought I was. I don’t know why, but I just kinda figured you’d be able to take me down with no trouble! You’re like, royally trained or something, right?”

Zuko frowned, “Yeah. I am,” he said. “In firebending.”

Sokka’s brows shot up. “Oh yeaaaah. Didn’t really think about that,” he chuckled nervously.

A beat passed in silence before both of them realized Sokka was still on top of him. Zuko twisted his wrists in Sokka’s hands, “Well? Are you gonna get off me?”

“I don’t really trust you not to turn me into bacon right now.”

“Sokka.”

Sokka laughed, “Y’know, it’s kinda funny if you think about it. Last year I used to run from you, and now I’ve got you literally pinned under me. I mean, really, it just writes itself!”

Zuko groaned, pressing his forehead to the floor. “You are…beyond annoying.”

“I’m just saying, if I had all this Kyoshi training last year, we might not even be here right now. Or maybe you’d have joined our group back then, after seeing how much of an asset to the team I am!” Sokka teased, pressing his body weight against Zuko’s arms so he could flex a muscle in Zuko’s eyeshot. 

Then, Sokka went quiet for a moment. Suspiciously quiet. Zuko was not a fan of his disadvantage right now. 

“Hey, who’s that fire nation girl that’s always hanging around your sister? You know, the one that can paralyze people?”

Zuko sighed, “That would be Ty Lee. Get off.”

“Yeah, Ty Lee! Man, it’d be so cool if she wasn’t the worst,” Sokka adjusted his grip a bit, like he was trying to get a better hold for something. What in the world is he planning?! “I bet I could learn a thing or two from that girl, strengthen up my fighting style a bit,” Sokka shrugged, “Eh, I bet I could be self taught. I just gotta find the right nerve…”

Before Zuko could even process what he was talking about, Sokka started poking up and down Zuko’s open sides, using one finger to poke one side, then the other, then back again. Over and over and over. 

“G-GaAH!” Zuko’s body jumped under the assault, squirming under his hold. “N-No, Sokka, let me–gohoho!” He giggled involuntarily, trying his best to hide his face in the floor while also trying to jerk away from Sokka’s ticklish hold.

“No, hold on, I think I’m getting the hang of this!” Sokka teased, poking up into Zuko’s ribs. Zuko couldn’t help the squeaky giggles falling from his lips, it was mortifying. He kicked his legs out behind Sokka like it would do anything, but with how good the boy had gotten at these warrior pins, Zuko didn’t stand a chance.

“S-stohohop! This is sohoho–ahaha so stuhupid!” Zuko cackled, writhing when he felt Sokka start pinching at his bony ribs. He could feel his face growing warmer by the second, horribly embarrassed by how easily Sokka can drag him into his playful little games.

“Okay, okay, just oneeee more thing,” Sokka said before bringing his hand up to flutter soft fingers against Zuko’s neck and ears. Crapcrapcrapcrap that really tickles. Zuko immediately fell into the most disgusting, high-pitched, girly-ish giggles he’s ever produced. It. Was. Terrible.

“Nohoho! Come ohohon! This is–ahaha this is so unfahahair!” Zuko whined, pulling against the hands holding him hostage. “This is assahahault!”

Sokka cackled at that, finally letting go of his very ticklish victim. He stood and backed away enough to let Zuko catch his breath, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye.

“You–pfff!! You’re so ticklish! Who woulda guessed that?!” Sokka laughed, practically doubled over in it. Zuko grumbled on the ground, sitting up and stretching his arms.

“And you are so childish,” he groveled, before launching at Sokka while he wasn’t paying attention. He grabbed around the boy’s waist and brought him to the ground with an ‘oof!’, the pair roughing it out for a moment before Zuko got the upper hand (Sokka was still laughing too much to put up a real fight). On the ground, Zuko had him trapped in a reverse bear hug, finding an opening near Sokka’s stomach to dig his own fingers in and make Sokka howl.

“Say you’re sorry!” Zuko grunted, trying to avoid a head butt from Sokka’s frantic squirming. “Say it!”

“AAAHH! AAAHAhahaha! I’m–! I’m ssssahahahah!” Sokka cackled, struggling to find the words with fingers digging incessantly into his stomach. Even in his wild state, Sokka could tell Zuko wasn’t very used to this, his tickling-style a little more rough than what he’s used to with the others. But luckily for Zuko, Sokka was a little too ticklish for it to actually affect anything.

“What? You can dish it but you can’t take it?!” Zuko fired back with his usual angry tone, though it was really hard to take seriously when he started pinching at Sokka’s side so viciously. 

“I cahaha–! It’s tooohohohoo–! AAAHH-!" Sokka's screaming laugh echoed through the temple, his head jerking back and forth. Zuko's fingers were getting tired, and this whole thing felt so stupid, but it was the principle of the thing! This is...how it works, right?

Zuko kept tickling despite not really knowing what he was doing, avoiding flailing limbs and a jerking head all the while. And right, right before he was about to just call it quits, he heard a cough from just outside his peripheral.

The pair froze, Zuko feeling his entire face grow warm in the matter of seconds. They both turned their heads slowly to see Suki standing there with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in question.

"You two having fun in here?" Suki asked through a smile, clearly on the verge of laughing. Zuko dropped Sokka like a sack of potatoes, standing up quickly with a finger pointed right at Sokka.

“He started this! He attacked me first, but–but I got out! And then he started laughing, and, I mean–it was so stupid! This is so stupid!” Zuko yelled in embarrassment, throwing his hands up to cover his whole face.

Suki giggled and walked over towards her boyfriend on the ground. “Aw, did the big mean firebender get you?” She teased a frowning (and blushing) Sokka. Suki held out her hand to him, “Come on, get up.”

Sokka took it with a scowl, refusing to make eye contact with Zuko. At least, until Sokka remembered how this whole thing started, his whole demeanor lighting up in an instant. “Oh you’ll never believe this. I beat Zuko. In a spar,” he whooped, looking over towards the firebending to find him scowling with his arms crossed. “Actually, it was like ten!”

“Six. It was just six,” Zuko squinted at Sokka in contempt.

“Okay, but six is still a lot compared to your one win,” Sokka boasted, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend.

Suki pulled herself out of his hold, “Uh, sure, but I think after what I saw, Zuko’s still the winner here,” she said, shooting an affirming smile Zuko’s way. 

Sokka dropped his jaw, “What?! But–But I beat him! Like, TONS of times?!” He exclaimed, “And I’m the one that started that! I tickled Zuko first, he totally went down!”

“When I was already pinned!” Zuko argued, angry he couldn’t make his blush fade any faster.

Suki sucked her teeth, “Sokka, if you started this, that’s even worse,” she shrugged. “You cheated. Zuko’s clearly the winner here, he just finished what you started” Suki pat Sokka’s back, shooting Zuko an empathetic look. “Sorry my boyfriend’s so childish. If you ever want a real spar, you know where to find me.”

Zuko looked surprised, really expecting her to tease him like everybody else did. “Oh, uh…yeah, whatever. Sure.”

Suki smiled, taking Sokka by the shoulders and walking him off. Zuko could hear her scolding as they walked away, “Next time we spar, I’ll show you how a real warrior cheats.”

Zuko wasn’t really sure how to take that. In fact, he decided it was probably best to ignore whatever that meant. Instead, he just grabbed his bag and tried forgetting this whole embarrassing mess ever happened.

–

“Zuko, I’m so sorry! I’m so so so sorry, I never meant for this to happen!” Aang practically cried behind Zuko, his words muffled under the hands he used to cover his mouth in guilt. “If you never wanna train me again, I’d understand. I just…I’m so sorry. I’m so—”

“Aang, it’s fine. I already told you it’s fine,” Zuko sighed, propping his bare foot up on the stool of earth Toph made for him. “Believe me, I’ve been burned way worse than this.”

“But that’s different!” Aang cried, falling on his butt to hide his face in his knees. “I can’t believe I burned someone. Again.”

“You’re still learning. It happens,” Zuko winced when Katara took hold of his ankle to get a better look at the burn. “Trust me, I burned a few of my trainers when I was growing up too. It’s just part of firebending. Once you’ve mastered it, you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Aang lifted his head with a sniffle. “Yeah…I guess you’re right,” he sighed. “Still feel bad, though.”

“As long as it doesn’t affect your training going further, I really don’t care,” Zuko shrugged, leaning back against his hands.

“That’s a little rude, don’t you think?” said Katara, popping the cork from her water bottle.

“Not really. I don’t care. I’m fine, and Aang will be too,” Zuko said, before gasping as Katara let the healing water wash over his feet. He jerked his foot back off the stool, making Katara raise an eyebrow.

“Zuko?” She looked down at the empty stool. “Kinda need your foot for this.”

Aang lit up, the smile finally returned to his face when he realized with a giggle, “I forgot! Zuko’s ticklish!”

“I am not! It just surprised me!” Zuko argued, throwing his foot back on the stool with confidence (though the pout he sported said otherwise).

Katara snickered, holding her water up so Zuko could see. “Well it’s a good thing you aren’t ticklish then, cause Aang could barely sit still last time I did this to him.”

“Yeah, Toph nearly had to earthbend my hands to the ground to keep me from moving,” Aang nodded, clearly feeling more chipper than a moment ago. Zuko cringed at the thought, shaking his head to clear it from overthinking.

“That will not be necessary,” Zuko huffed. “Just get to it, I’ll be fine. We need to get back to training.”

Katara shrugged, bringing the water to his foot and starting the healing process. Zuko immediately gasped again, his foot nearly jerking off the stool. He caught himself this time, but no one in the room missed the flinch.

Well, except for Toph, but only out of technicality’s sake.

“Your hearts racing, Sparky,” Toph sang, never missing an opportunity to tease their resident grump.

“Shut up, Toph,” Zuko said through bared teeth, straining himself to keep from letting a giggle slip. He squirmed in his seat, toes clenching and unclenching involuntarily. If he can just get through this without cracking, there’ll be nothing for these weirdos to tease him about. He can do this.

“Y’know, you should probably breathe soon. Don’t want you dying on us while I’m healing you,” Katara said, looking up from her water at Zuko’s puffed cheeks and pink face. He’d been too focused to even realize he was holding his breath in the first place. Slowly, Zuko exhaled through his nose before flinching hard again at a more solid sensation in the center of his foot.

“Grrk–!” Zuko jumped, scowling at Katara who started snickering.

“Sorry, my finger slipped,” she grinned, making the other two start giggling at his expense. 

“It’s really okay if you need to laugh, Zuko,” said Aang. “There’s no way I could’ve held it in like you are.”

“I said I’m fine. It doesn’t even…” Zuko huffed, the water finding a particularly sensitive spot right at the worst time possible, making him growl through a giggle. He shut his eyes tight, “Juhust shut up.”

–

At first, his days in the air on Appa were something Zuko wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He had to admit, it was definitely cool getting to ride a sky-bison thousands of feet in the air after he’d been told his whole life the species had gone extinct with the rest of the air-benders. There was some excitement to it the first couple rides he got to experience.

But after about the fifth time, it was really starting to get old.

“I thought I knew what boredom felt like when I was out camping with Uncle, but this is really something else,” Zuko groaned, throwing his head over the side of the saddle.

“Zukoooo, remember what I keep telling you about the positive attitude?” Aang reminded him from Appa’s head, steering the bison in what felt like the same direction for hours.

“No, he’s right. This is super boring,” Sokka whined, picking at Appa’s fur with a pout.

“Don’t you guys ever, I don’t know…play any games while you’re up here?” Zuko asked, feeling a little silly about it. Playing games was so childish, but it seemed to fit this group’s whole vibe pretty well. Couldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“Yeah we used to, until Toph took it too seriously one time and Katara banned fun,” Sokka shot a look at his sister, who scoffed at the mention.

“Um, I did not ban fun. I banned Pushies,” Katara corrected him with a squint.

“Ah, Pushies. The good ole days when having a laugh wasn’t forbidden by Her Highness,” said Toph, nearly making Katara blow a fuse.

Zuko hated to ask, but this was the most entertained he’d felt in the past two hours. With an incredulous look, he asked, “What’s Pushies?”

“It was the best,” Sokka sighed like he was daydreaming. “Toph and I would push each other back and forth until one of us got too scared and called quits.”

“Which I never did, by the way–”

“Uh, not true! You know you called quits that one time-”

“Because you nearly pushed me off Appa!”

“Not true AGAIN! You couldn’t see it, but you were totally fine-”

“Oh so because I’m blind it’s my fault they won’t let us play Pushies anymore?!”

“That’s not what I meant-!”

“GUYS!” Aang shouted, throwing a stern look over his shoulder towards the group. The pair went silent before both slouching back against the saddle. “No. Pushies.”

They both grumbled to themselves, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the fight. Zuko looked to the sky at their bickering, thankful his temper wasn’t like it used to be.

“Games other than Pushies exist, you know. We just have to make one up,” he suggested, sitting criss-crossed to face the group. 

“Did you play any games on that murder-ship you used to ride?” Katara asked with a tone, her mood clearly a bit dampened.

Zuko grimaced, “I was kinda too focused on capturing Aang for games back then.” Zuko sighed, throwing his head and arms back over the saddle to stare into the sky. “Forget it. Let’s just go back to sitting in silence.”

It seemed like the rest of the group agreed, because for the next few minutes that’s exactly what they did. The wind whistling in their ears was the only sound to focus on.

That is, until Zuko felt something tweak his side, making him squeak an awful sound. He whipped his head around to find everyone suspiciously not looking at him. Sokka picked at his fingers, Katara seemed a little too interested in the cloth of her dress, and Toph…well, she looked straight ahead, but that was to be expected.

Zuko fumed, “Who did that?”

Sokka looked up from his fingers, “Hm? Who did what?”

Oh, Zuko was so onto them. Pointing a finger at Sokka with a squint, “Don’t. Do it. Again.” He said sternly, before turning back around towards the sky. Zuko swore he could hear them snickering behind him, but hoped that would be the end of it.

Another minute went by with nothing, and for some reason Zuko really thought he evaded trouble with that intimidation move he pulled. Clearly he didn’t know this group well enough yet.

Another tweak to his side, this one closer to his ribs this time. Anything near his ribs always made him flinch hard, his elbow shooting down to cover the area with a giggly shout. Zuko growled when he faced them, “Seriously, who’s doing this?!” They all looked up at him like they were clueless. He’s gonna kill them. “Answer me!”

Finally, he heard Toph giggle, clearly unaffected by his little hissy fit. “It was me. Both times, actually,” she grinned, throwing a leg over her knee. “What, you gonna do something about it?”

Zuko’s jaw locked forward, feeling like he was breathing smoke out of his nose. His hands clenched beside him, telling himself it would probably not be the “right thing” throwing this twelve year old over the side of Appa.

With a grumble, he fixed his face and looked up to the sun above him. “You people are crazy.” Zuko crossed his arms and slumped against the saddle, decidedly not turning away from Toph this time. Everyone got a chuckle out of that, even Aang.

“No, I think Toph’s the crazy one,” he chuckled, smiling over his shoulder. “The rest of us are pretty normal, right?”

Zuko deadpanned Aang’s way. “No.”

Toph crawled over beside Zuko, who nearly flinched at her presence. “Lighten up, Sparky! Remember what Aang said? Positive attitude?” She accentuated Aang’s words with more tweaks to Zuko’s side, these far more ticklish now that she doesn’t have to hide it. Zuko jumped with a giggly shout, trying hard to hide his side with his elbow, but that just made Toph reach around his back to get his other side.

“Gah-! N-Nohoho!” He complained, pushing at her hands and face. “Quihit!”

“Cmooon I’m bored! This is the most entertained I’ve been in hours!” Toph tickled into Zuko’s ribs as she talked, making him fall over on his side in giggles. He kept pushing at her with his hands, but his stupid body kept betraying him, his elbows shooting down to cover the area too much to really fight back.

“Toph-! Tohohoph!” Zuko squealed, everyone around laughing at his funny noises. These people are the worst. “Gahaha! Get her ohoff mehehe!” He cackled, feeling her fingers vibrate into his ribs and stomach at the same time. Zuko’s eyes were scrunched tight in mirth, feeling silly and stupid and ticklish.

“This is too good. You sound like a girl!” Toph laughed, poking into his side like a typewriter. Zuko couldn’t stop giggling, flipping over on his stomach to crawl away (though he didn’t have much room, cramped on this stupid saddle with the rest of these freaks). He opted for crawling as close to Katara as he could get, praying she’d take pity on him and make Toph stop embarrassing him already.

Katara chuckled, “Okay, I think he’s had enough,” grabbing for Toph’s wrist (her hand still trying to worm it’s way under Zuko’s armpit) Katara pulled Toph away from Zuko as he slumped close to her side panting.

“Aweee, what?! I was just getting started!” Toph whined, making another grabbing motion in Zuko’s general direction that had him flinching with a squeak.

“You heard her, quit it!” Zuko griped, trying to silently maneuver himself as far from Toph as possible without her hearing. It was like a game of cat and mouse, Toph listening for any subtle sound Zuko made for her to launch her free arm in his direction, making him zip out of her reach before she could grab him. 

“Cut it out, this is ridiculous!” Zuko complained, getting behind Sokka and gripping his shoulders like a human shield. “Ha! How ‘bout that, shortstack?!” 

“Hey! Don’t rope me into this–AHH! NO! NONONOHohohoho!!” Sokka fell over on his side in giggles the moment Katara let go of Toph’s arm, the shorter girl launching for his sides.

“This’ll do for now!” Toph cheered, digging into Sokka’s waist with her rough fingers and making him howl. “I’ll catch you eventually, Sparky! Just wait til I’m finished with him!” she grinned wickedly, Sokka losing his mind just below her.

“But you already—! Gah, forget it,” Zuko sighed, crawling silently over beside Katara to hopefully avoid getting involved in that mess again. “She’s ruthless.”

Katara giggled, shooting Zuko a smile, “You get used to it.”

-

Zuko caught himself smiling at dinner. It was weird, usually when he smiled, it felt like an intentional move. Smiling to convince someone he’s happy, or smiling to fake innocence. But tonight…he started smiling before he even realized he was doing it.

Aang was telling some silly story from over 100 years ago, something from his childhood before all this. It was a stupid story, something Zuko would’ve found himself scoffing at if he had heard it even just a few months ago.

But things are good now. He felt good. Happiness came easy to him, like breathing or pulling fire from his hands. Zuko never thought he’d get to feel this again after everything he’d gone through, but these weirdos just had a way with him.

Something about these people, his friends, was always able to make him smile. They were annoying. They’re loud. They’re way too touchy, and always in his personal space. Like now, with Toph curled against his side as she laughed along to Aang’s story.

And yet? Zuko’s come to be okay with that. He’s come to like it about them, as crazy as it sounds. 

The fire he sat in front of now didn’t have to be a threat. It was home.

—

A/N : i was all over the place writing this LMAO hope yall like it anyways cause it was fun to write!! pls consider reblogging if u enjoyed!! <3

[omgkatherine01]

By Your Side

Summary: You and Aemond have been friends since you started university, until one day he tries to push you out of his life, but you wouldn't let him until he tells you why.

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Masterlist (requests are currently open for now)

He's ignoring me

That's what you kept thinking as you hung up your phone after trying to call your friend, Aemond Targaryen.

Everything was fine until three days ago when he said he was going for the weekend to visit his family. Three years of friendship, he never really talked about them. You only knew he has his parents and four siblings, two brothers, a sister and a half sister.

But he doesn't talk about them much, except his big sister, Helaena, was the only one he spoke about with love and care.

The two of you didn't became friends right away that was for sure. You did noticed him first when you only got to university. He was quiet, but very handsome.

He hasn't noticed you at all until a few days after you got there when there was an assignment, and you made the first move to ask him to pair up with you. You thought he wouldn't, but to your surprise he agreed, much to the annoyance of some of the girls in the class.

Since then, the two of you started to talk more, and you both formed a friendship. Aemond was caring, and nice, and definitely a gentleman.

And now, since he came back, he became distant, and now he wasn't talking to you or answering your calls or texts. You tried to speak to him during your classes together, but nothing.

"It's been three days, and he's been ignoring me," You told your sister over the phone as you walked to your apartment door.

"You should go to him, and ask for an explanation," she said, "I mean, you don't just stop been friends after a weekend with your family."

You sighed, a little nervous without realizing, "I--I don't know, I mean... maybe he just... maybe he just got tired of me, you know? I'm that nerd who everyone don't like to hang around with, and only be around for homework and--"

"Oh, shut up," she said, "If you going to talk about yourself like that, I'm going to drive over to your place and kick your ass."

You let out a soft chuckle and opened the front door. You closed it behind you and placed your bag down on the floor. "Now give him a call, and if he won't answer, leave a message, demand him to call you and met up," your sister said, "And you call me after."

You nodded, "Okay, yeah."

"Good, love you," she said.

You smiled a little, "Love you too." You hung up and looked at your phone, debating if to do as she said. You took a deep breath and called Aemond again, and as you thought, he didn't answer, so you left a messege.

"Hey, it's me... again." You rubbed your forehead and frowned a little, sad as you continued, "Look, I... I don't know why you pushing me away like that without telling me what I did wrong, so... I just... hope you can call me back and just..." You let out a sigh, "Just talk to me, Aemond. Don't push me away without an explanation." You bit your lower lip before you continued softly, "If you just don't want to be friends anymore, I'll--I'll understand..." I wouldn't want to be friends with me, either, you thought to yourself sadly. "So just tell it to my face."

You didn't knew what else to say, so you just hung up. You felt lost for the first time in three years. And sad.

Since the second year, you finally realized that what you felt for Aemond was more than friendship, you really liked him.

But you never said or implied that you liked him more than a friend, you were afraid he didn't feel the same, and you would lose him forever.

But, maybe now, you did.

-

"If you just don't want to be friends anymore, I'll--I'll understand."

After hearing your voicemail, Aemond dropped everything he was doing and drove to your apartment.

He thought he was doing the right thing, pushing you out from his life because of his hard time controlling himself from anger issues because of his family, especially his big brother Aegon. But hearing your voice, full of sadness, all because of him, you were right... he needed to speak to you.

You ate dinner at your apartment, and when there was a knock on the door, you were surprised since you weren't expecting anyone. You walked to the front door and frowned as you peered to see who it was.

You opened the door, surprised to see it was Aemond. "Hey," you said, confused was heard in your voice.

"Hey," he said and leaned against the frame. "I, uh... I heard your voicemail."

You nodded a little and waited, but he didn't say anything. "Aren't you going to say it?" you asked.

He seemed to know what you meant, and instead asked something else, "Can I come in?"

You hesitated but stepped aside. He walked in and you closed the door.

You turned to him and followed him to the living room. "Well?" you asked.

Aemond turned to you and leaned on the arm of your couch. He stared at you as he kept his hands on his jacket pockets. "I'm sorry," he said.

"For ignoring me?" you muttered as you crossed your arms over your chest. He nodded and looked down on the floor. You uncrossed your arms and stepped closer until your knees touched his. "Aemond," you said softly and placed your fingers under his chin to lift his head up.

He stared up at you.

"What's wrong?" you asked softly, "Why were you pushing me away?"

"Because I love you."

You froze when he said those words.

"What?" you asked softly.

Aemond moved his hands from his pockets as he stared at you and placed his hands on your hips. He took a shaky breath and looked back at you. "I love you," he confessed.

"I don't want to be friends, I want to be more. But, I..."

You let your feet move you closer to him, and you stood between his legs and placed your hands on his shoulders. "I don't deserve you," he muttered.

"What do you mean?" you asked softly and placed your hands on his cheeks. He closed his eyes at your soft touch and licked his lips before speaking again as he opened his eyes.

"My weekend with my... family, it was a bad idea. I got angry, I almost lost all control of myself, and... when I came back, I was still angry. I pushed you away so you won't have to face me when I'm losing control of myself. I didn't want to scare you."

"Aemond," you said softly and made him look at you again. "You not going to scare me away. I want to be by your side, no matter what. Because I love you."

Aemond stared at you and pulled you softly closer. He moved his hand from your hip to up to your face, caressing your cheek. He moved his hand to the back of your head, pulling your face closer.

You tilted your head and pressed your lips against his. He pulled your face closer, kissing you passionately.

You kissed him back with passion of your own for a long moment, until you pulled your lips from his, both of you breathing heavily. You pressed your forehead against his, both of you closed your eyes, leaning in each other's touch.

"I love you," you said softly.

"I love you, too," he breathed out and placed his hands on your cheeks, pulling your lips back to his softly.

Taglist:

@thenovelcarnival, @mynameisbaby9, @carriellie, @parizparis, @xcharlottemikaelsonx, @daddysfavoritesexkitten, @uselessbutinteresting, @hc-geralt-23, @babyblue-chaos, @azaleapotterblack, @hydrationqueensworld, @firefirevampire, @burningshewolf, @literishdegree99, @xinyourdreamsx, @daerizzys, @tpwkstiles

[gaysindistress]

As Good a Reason - six

pairing: ⚠️Dark!Mob!Bucky⚠️ x reader

summary: when Brock Rumlow picks a fight he can’t win with the White Wolf, he drags his Snake back. Six years after she ran away, Y/N Rumlow is faced with a choice to make; do as she’s told and kill the White Wolf or overtake her father instead because spite’s as good a reason to take his power?

warnings: ⚠️Dark!Mob!Bucky⚠️, cursing, Y/N getting slapped and being held at gunpoint, this part gets dark so please read with caution, mentions of creepy fathers (aka Brock all of time), feral Bucky, character death (two to be exact)

word count: 3k

A/n: Im moving states this weekend so the next parts are going to be delayed. I won’t be posting Monday or Wednesday but after that, it should go back to normal!

Tag list @kandis-mom @casa-boiardi @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @cakesandtom @unaxv @vonalyn @hidden-treasures21 @emerald-writes

five | series masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest. The women in the banners are not how Y/N is supposed to look. They are merely for aesthetic purposes and Y/N is written for anyone to see themselves in her.

“Hel…Hello?” Victoria stutters into the phone with her eyes trained on her father. He nods, urging her to stay on the phone and keep talking like they’re negotiating the release of a hostage. 

“Is that you, Victoria Marie?” the other voice asks with a sinister smile in their voice.

“Let me talk to Y/N.”

The voice hums, thinking about the imaginary options they have before settling on a monotone, “No.”

“Please…” she pauses, looking to Brock for the name, “James. I just want to make sure she’s okay.” “If anything, she’s the one who needs to see if YOU’RE okay.”

“Then let me talk to her.”

James sucks his teeth for a moment, “I’m assuming Daddy dearest is next to you.”

Brock shakes his head, telling Victoria to say no and she does. 

“Don’t lie to me, Vikki. I don’t like when people lie to me.”

Victoria corrects her mistake before Brock can stop her and he lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“Good girl,” he ends his portion of the call and assumingly passes the phone off to Y/N.

“Vic?”

“Y/N oh my god, are you okay?” she asks frantically. 

“I’m fine,” the strain is evident in Y/N’s voice but she keeps a collected composure, “how are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m in a little pain but I’m okay.”

“Good. That’s good to hear.”

“Y/N, come home. Please, it's not safe. Dad told me..”

The woman on the other side interrupts her sister, “Dad?”

Victoria freezes but keeps up with her ardent pleading with Y/N to come home, find a way around it all, and get to safety. Y/N listens but doesn’t acknowledge a thing her sister is saying for it’s all lies. The moment Victoria said dad instead of “our father” or “Brock”, she knew that something was up and anything that was about to come out of her mouth would be a direct copy of whatever Brock forced her to rehearse. 

James reaches over and presses the mute button before saying what they’re both thinking, “It’s a setup.”

“Clearly.”

He rolls his own eyes, “Get her to agree to a meeting.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you need a way into his house,” he states as if it’s the most obvious thing and unmutes their side before she can answer. 

“Y/N, seriously please come home,” Victoria’s voice cracks with emotion as she finishes her tearful statement. 

“James won’t let me without a meeting between him and Brock.”

“Okay! We can set that up.”

James feeds her the details;

Two days from now, 8pm sharp at the Rumlow house. 

Victoria agress on her father’s behalf and both sisters, acting as mouthpieces for the men controlling them, say their goodbyes before hanging up. 

James takes the phone from Y/N and gives her his permanent wolfish grin. 

“I’m proud of you.”

She deflates into her chair, sinking into it and trying to make herself appear smaller so as to not be seen by his watchful eye. However under the eye of this wolf, there is nothing that goes unnoticed by him, especially not his favorite little snake. 

“What’s wrong?” he tries to fake concern but it falls flat. 

“Nothing.”

“Try again.”

Y/N sits up and leans forward as she over enunciates the word, “Nothing.”

Mimicking her actions, he leans forward too and meets her on her level, “Try again, little snake.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

With as much disgust as she can, she spits out, “Because I’m not your little snake. I’m no one’s snake.”

His grin turns sour and a sinister look takes over his face, one that he dons when the White Wolf controls his actions. He goes from charming to alarming in seconds but Y/N has come to learn that showing fear will only end badly for her so she matches it as best as she can. They stare at each other, waiting for the other back down but neither do. She can sense his hands itching to make a physical attack but they stay in his lap as long as she doesn’t move. It’s similar to how a wolf might stalk its prey; waiting for the kill shot but she is not a bunny to be eaten. 

She is the Snake after all; quiet and patient, waiting for the moment to strike. 

James relents and sits back into his seat with a look she can’t figure out. There is no anger but there is no joy. There is not a hint of anything that might give her a clue to what he’s feeling but his next sentence clues her into exactly what’s brewing beneath the surface.  

“That’s where you’re wrong. You are because you’re mine.”

“We’ll see,” she ends the conversation and gets up, leaving him to fume at the idea that’s resisting him even more than before. 

Mere days ago she would’ve jumped at the chance to be with him however the more he tries to control her, the less she wants to submit. The more he exercises what power he has over her, the more that she's going to fight to get away. 

But then again this isn’t the average man and her push back only makes him want her more. 

“I need you. Now.”

Steve raises his brows with a smirk and glances at Sam who matches his expression. Y/N rolls her eyes and disappears back into the dark hallway she came from. 

“Now.”

He follows after with a swagger in his step and it reaches his head when she slams him against the wall. He lets out a deep chuckle, craning his head up to avoid the blade that rests under his jaw. 

“Kinky.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m not trying to sleep you, you filthy pig,” she sneers at him, pressing the blade further into the soft skin, “I need a favor.”

“A favor?” he parrots back as his eyes dart down to her lips. 

“Before the meeting, I’m going to sneak in and get my siblings out. I need you to get them to safety.”

“Why would I do that?” “Because I will slit your throat right now if you say no,” she says, pressing the knife hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

Steve freezes and grimaces at the feeling before agreeing, “Okay, okay. I’ll do it. I’ll even get Sam to help.”

She flashes him a devilish smile and backs away, keeping the knife pointed at him. 

“That’s not the only thing you’re planning on doing is it?” he asks as he touches the wound she made, drawing his fingers away and making a face at the blood that’s dripping down his fingers. 

“You might want to get a bandaid,” she throws at him as she turns, leaving him alone in the hallways and disappears into the shadows of the prison they call home. 

Cyanide wasn’t her first choice. 

If she had her way, she would’ve picked something that took longer so she could watch Brock slowly lose control over his own body. It would’ve brought her great joy to watch him lose the control that he exercised over everyone else but she didn’t have that time. 

Cyanide acted fast, too fact for some but for the Snake, it would work just fine. 

The little glass bottle is tucked into the breast pocket of her vest, the safest place it could be until it found its rightful place in Brock’s body. Her feet make no sound as she drops from the window into his office. Just like she had hoped, it’s empty, save for her generational anger and spite. 

Beyond the doors, she can hear his voice and John’s arguing over something that seems insignificant in comparison to what she;s doing. Within seconds, she spots the glass bottle filled with his favorite amber liquid and she’s pulling off the cap before she lets out her first breath. Taking out the bottle and taking off the cap, she’s pouring the pale blue poison into the bottle as she lets out her second breath. On her third, she’s putting the bottle back and slipping back out the window. 

Inching her way across the ledge, she drops herself onto Victoria’s balcony where Steve is waiting for her. He goes to ask her what she was doing but he doesn’t get the chance. Y/N is picking the lock and pushing open the door in a matter of seconds. Something sits horribly wrong with him but he doesn’t have the time to question it. 

Laying in her bed is Victoria covered in bandages and with numerous machines around her. Y/N wrinkles her nose at the sight, willing her tears to absorb back into her body. Sam opens the bedroom doors to the sight of Steve pointing a gun at her; however , it's dropped when the threat of Brock proves to be false. Wordlessly the three work to undo whatever is holding Victoria to the bed and Steve scoops her up into his arms as Y/N slips back out of the french doors. 

In the next room, Sam meets her as she’s whispering, arguing with Niklaus. 

“What? Are you stupid?” Niklaus growls at her as she levels her signature bored look at him. 

“Go with him. Now. He’ll get you out of here before all hell breaks loose,” she tells him as she pushes him towards the door. He keeps trying to argue with her and she’s not having it. When he’s too preoccupied to worry about Sam taking him, she stabs a syringe into his neck and he goes limp in Sam’s arms. 

“Jesus, was that really necessary?” Sam groans as he lugs Niklaus’ limp body onto his shoulders. 

“Oh I’m sorry did you want Brock to hear him and catch us?”

He glares at her and keeps his mouth shut as he makes his way back towards the entrance. Y/N slips into her old room and finds clothes to change into. Re Emerging from the room dressed in loose fitting cargo pants, a white shirt, and a dark wash jean jacket, she spots John at the top of the staircase. She throws herself against the wall and hopes to whatever god is listening that he didn’t see her. 

Her prayers are ignored. 

“Y/N?” he asks as he peers at where he saw her and makes his way in that direction. She tries to slip back into her room but the clicking of the lock tips him off to her location and he grabs her by the wrist, yanking towards him. He traps her hands in one of his and with the other points his gun at her. Narrowing his blue eyes at her, hurt and betrayal flashes before he can turn him into a wall of stone. 

“What are you doing here?” “There’s a meeting about to take place.” “What are you doing here?” he asks again. 

She repeats her first answer much to his dismay but he lets it go to further question her, “How could you take his side?”

That hurt and betrayal from earlier sneaks into his voice and it takes all her strength to not roll her eyes at him. The cold gun against her temple isn’t a bad reminder either to not piss him off. 

“I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” his voice wobbles as he grows more emotional and his grip grows tighter, “We could’ve gotten Victoria and Klaus back without you making that stupid deal. You didn’t have to do this!”

The more frantic he becomes, the harder the barrel digs into her skin and she winces at the feeling. Her reaction shakes him back to reality and he lowers the gun. 

“I… I’m sorry,” he tells her as tucks his gun away and uses his free hand to caress her face, “I was so worried about you. All the things I heard about him, I just.. I was so scared for you. Did he…hurt you? Touch you?” She suppresses the urge to cringe at the feeling and puts on a sincere face, “No, he didn’t do anything.”

John smiles a little, “Good. I’d have to kill him if he did.”

Y/N looks down in disgust but he mistakes it as something else and leads her by her chin to look back up at him. Her worst nightmare comes true as he leans down to kiss her. His rough lips try to get her to kiss him back and she opens her mouth as he tries to deepen the kiss. 

A fatal mistake for him. 

Biting down as hard as she can, her teeth tear into his bottom lip and blood rushes forward. He jerks away in pain and touches his bleeding lip as he can’t believe that she would do that. He’s met with the sight of her smiling with his blood dripping from her lips and it strokes a fire long dead inside him. He back hands her so hard that her cheek splits and she falls to the ground. The ring his father gave him just before he died glistens with her blood but he doesn’t care. 

“You bitch,” he growls at her and goes to yank her up but another pair of hands pull her up and away from him. 

The voice she dreaded the most pretended to soothe and comfort her, “It’s, okay, baby girl. Dad’s here.”

Her mother never cried a lot. She took the punches and violent threats that Brock threw at her but she never fought back. Y/N used to hate her mother for it, wishing that she would’ve done something to help her children but she never did. Jasmine always nursed her wounds in secret and put on a brave face for her daughter and her siblings. In hindsight, Y/N knew that she had no choice but to endure for the safety of her children. Fighting back meant that his wrath would be directed at them and a punch hurt a child more than a grown woman. One night after a practically bad lashing, Jasmine held Y/N and wept for hours on end. 

As she wept, she told her daughter that “someone who loves you wouldn’t do this.”

Now Y/N knew that to be turned and it took everything in her to now scream, cry, fight with all of her might to get out of her father’s arms. 

Holding her in a bruising grip, Brock pretends to comfort her and whispers threats veiled as reassurance into her hair as he walks to the office. John is grumbling behind them as he holds a handkerchief to his bleeding lip but no such thing was offered to her as her cheek bleeds as well. It stains the dark fabric of Brock’s shirt but whether he notices or cares, she can’t be sure. 

James and Steve are waiting for them in the office, sitting as they exchange words in another language. Steve stops mid sentence when he sees the trio walking in and James follows his line of sight with fire in his pale blue eyes. He licks his lips as he reigns in his emotions and settles into his chair against the wishes of his heart. Or what’s left of it. 

Brock makes a show of seating Y/N in his chair and tends to her wounds, a cut on her cheek from John’s ring. Steve looks to his boss for his reaction and to his surprise, there is only a murderous look upon his face. 

James knows better than to make a comment about it and instead moves to the top of the meeting, “How do you propose we solve our ‘little’ tiff?”

Brock lets out a deep sigh as he places a bandaid on her cheek, pushing too hard as he does so, “Give me my daughter back.”

“No. I like her, I want to keep her.”

“She isn’t a toy, Mr.Barnes. She’s a human.”

“I never said she wasn’t,” James says cooly, “But that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to give her up and especially not to a man like you.”

Brock’s jaw tightens as he turns to face James, “What do you want for her?”

A wolfish smirk, feral and dangerous, spreads on his plump lips, “Your head.”

“My what?”

“You heard me.”

Brock scoffs at his request, “That’s ridiculous.”

“So is the way that you hunted her for six years but never found her until I gave you a shred of information,” James mocks him as he stands.

Y/N’s eyes narrow at the revelation. He had led Brock to her? “I knew where she was the whole time.” her father counters. 

James shrugs his shoulders but the pure predator look doesn’t leave his unnatural eyes, “You know what else is ridiculous? The fact that I can see the disgusting thoughts that you think when you see her in your eyes.”

Brock doesn’t answer and shakes his head to wordlessly combat the accusation. 

“We can all see it. For a man who claims to be her father, you sure would end up in hell for the thoughts that pass through your mind.”

Y/N can’t tell if he is telling the truth or just riling up her father but either way she sees her chance to slip away. Steve is faster than John and has him on his knees within seconds as she rushes to stand behind James. Instead of tucking her behind him like she had hoped, he pins her back to his chest and presses a knife she hadn’t seen to her neck. His hot breath on her neck sends shivers down her spine but her body goes completely still when the knife makes a small cut in her soft skin. Breathing hard to keep the fear below the surface, Y/N squeezes her eyes shut and wills herself to keep breathing. James licks up the blood that trails down her neck and she can almost feel the sinister intentions that he has. 

“She’s sweet, sweeter than anything I’ve ever tasted,” he looks Brock directly in the eye as he chuckles and wipes her blood from her lips, “I can see why you wanted her.”

“You’re sick.”

He shrugs, “maybe but there’s no one worse than you, Brock. You didn’t even try to deny it.”

Y/N trembles in his arms and he quietly shushes her before diving back into his onslaught on Brock, “Do you know things I’ve heard about you? I would tell everyone all of the awful things you’ve done but I think you should. There’s nothing better than the monster admitting to their own wrong doings. So go on, tell everyone all of the terrible and disgusting things you’ve done.”

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brock tries to protect himself but it’s no use against the White Wolf. 

“No?” James parrots, “Did you forget? Did it slip your mind that you’ve kidnapped and beaten your children's mothers? Or did you forget that you killed all three of their mothers because they weren’t compliant anymore? Or was it that you’ve abused your children in too many ways to count? 

“I didn’t do any of that.”

“You can’t lie your way out of this.”

“It’s not lying if it’s not true.”

“Tony Stark would say differently.”

Brock visibly freezes at the mention of that name. 

“He told me everything: everything you did to LeeAnn, Elena, and Jasmine. Oh Jasmine, you were the devil to that poor woman,” James cranes his neck to look at Y/N, “Why don’t you tell your DAUGHTER what you did to Jasmine?”

Brock locks his jaw and stares ahead without a word. 

Y/N deflates in his arms but he grips her tighter so she doesn’t fall. 

“Do you want me to do it? I won’t be nice if I do it.” “I didn’t do anything to that bitch that she didn’t deserve.”

James tuts at him, “now is that any way to talk about your dead wife? Oh wait, she wasn’t your wife, she was Tony’s wife. You got jealous and took her because why would anyone not want you? I can’t imagine how angry you must have been when you found out she was pregnant with his child, a sweet baby girl. That’s why you killed him, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N whispers to herself more than anything. 

James leans closer to her ear, “Brock killed your parents.”

A single tear falls down her face and she allows herself to find comfort in the man behind her. She turns to hide her face in his chest and she can feel it swell with triumph at her actions. 

Brock tries to defend himself but James will not have it, “No. There is nothing on God's green earth that could excuse that transgression. I hope for your sake that Y/N gets to you before I do because I demand a pound of flesh for what you did to her.”

Brock clenched his jaw and the muscles flex as he mulls over the threat in James’ words. 

Satisfied with the fear he’s planted in Brock, James turns his attention to Y/N and inspects the damage to her face. “Who did this to you?” he mummers into her ear as he presses gentle kisses to the broken flesh. 

She tells him what he wants and feels him make a gesture to Steve. John tries to plead with him to save his life but Steve’s cold heart does not care for his words and a shot rings out. She flinches, earning her a tighter hug from James and more promises to keep reconciling the wrongs that have been done to her. 

“What do you want from me?” Brock’s words are muffled to her ears but James’ voice is crystal clear. 

“Ideally you’d kill yourself but I don’t see that happening so I’ll settle for letting you disappear. Get out of New York and find a hole to crawl into for the rest of your life. If I hear so much as one whisper about you, I will hunt you down, drag your pathetic ass out of hiding, and butcher you like the pig that you are.”

“I’ll do it but I want my daughter back.”

“No,” the harsh word rumbles in James’ chest. 

“I want my daughter back,” He tries again. 

“You have two hours to get out.”

With that James, Steve, and Y/N walk out of the office, leaving Brock to lick his wounds and plan a way to get out before the White Wolf returns. 

However it doesn’t take two hours for Brock's life to come to an end. 

Fuming that he’s lost, he pours a drink of his favored amber drink. A bitter almond taste fills his mouth and he spits it out as the horror sets in. His body starts to betray him and he begins to lose control of it. Twitching and seizing, Brock cries out in his mind as the poison takes over. He falls from his chair, landing with a thud on the ground as foam leaks out of his mouth. 

The Snake struck without him noticing and now he has paid the price.

[nocandnc]

Since you're a hardcore shipper for both Yuriloe and Fionky... what if the two couples bumped into each other and had themselves a double date~?

Hi there~ Am I hardcore?! I suppose I do love my shipping outbursts...! Hmm, a double date huh... although I love their potential, I don't see Fionky becoming a couple until much later in the story - not for years even. Yuriloe on the other hand (Yurichlo? Chluri? SSSx2!? The fanbase needs to come to a consensuses!!) I can see happening much sooner.

With that in mind, here is my proposed scenario:

Yuri and Chloe start dating for real, abet tentatively. Eager to meet her brother's girlfriend, Yor gets Loid to arrange a group date between the four of them. However! Something comes up that prevents the Forgers from going. Yor is dismayed at losing a chance to learn about her potential sister-in-law and ruining the double date Yuri was surely looking forward to! (He wasn't.)

In an attempt to cheer Yor up For The Mission Twilight calls on Franky and Fiona to pose as a couple and join Yuri and Chloe instead. He insists it's a good opportunity to probe two SSS officers for info while sussing out the status of their relationship for Operation Strix.

So the group go on their double date. Fiona is less than enthused but it was a direct request from Twilight and she'll do her job damn it. Franky is mildly terrified but hey, it's a date with a pretty lady! Two ladies in fact, and the second one is unexpectedly cute for an SSS officer...? Franky gets distracted by Chloe's (polite, obligatory) friendliness all too soon into the evening. Now Fiona is mad all over again because here she is putting on her very best Girlfriend act and this scouring pad of a man is ignoring her for the enemy? Really? Right in front of her salad??

Yuri meanwhile is still a little unsure about this whole romance thing, but Yor sounded so happy when he accidentally mentioned going on a late night stakeout coffee date the other week, so maybe Chloe was on to something? But Yor wasn't even here, so what was the point? Not even that damn Loidy came! He'd sent a "family friend" over instead, who was currently making eyes at his girlfriend of all things. His girlfriend! Suddenly Yuri is very sure indeed, taking every opportunity to make physical contact with Chloe for rest of the evening while glaring daggers at Franky Franklin.

Chloe hides her disappointment at not getting to meet Yuri's sister and infamous brother-in-law, exchanging pleasantries with the peculiar couple across from her through a well-crafted smile. The other woman at the table has quite the poker face herself, but with all of Fiona's questions rounding back to the topic of work Chloe figures she must be the nervous type. Fiona's... husband? Franky, is much more talkative. So much so that Chloe is troubled to keep up. She glances at her date now and again for assistance, but the young man is still stuck sulking over his sister's absence - or so Chloe thinks before Yuri abruptly takes her hand in his, squeezing tightly.

The two couples claw their way through dinner and part ways with no lives lost, somehow. Yuri's aggression fades exponentially as he drives Chloe home. By the time they reach her doorstep he's clear headed and embarrassingly aware of how touchy he'd been with her out of the blue. He sputters a quick farewell while turning to leave, but a gentle grip on his coat sleeve stops him dead. The goodnight kiss Chloe gives him is even gentler. Fiona's at peak aggression when she slows her car to a crawl along Franky's street. She contemplates telling him to tuck and roll before coming to a complete stop instead. Franky is mentally in shambles - he's convinced Yuri Briar has some kind of ESP with the amount of psychic damage his glares dealt. And even worse, the relationship between the two SSS agents seemed totally lovey-dovey!! Franky heaves a sigh and mumbles to his frosty accomplice about writing a report for Twilight before moving to exit the vehicle. He gets one foot out the door before he's suddenly yanked back towards the driver's seat by his lapel. Franky locks eyes with Fiona as she tells him in the iciest tone possible that he'll be looking at no one but her on their next date - she'll make sure of it.

Mission failed successfully?

...

I think this turned into a shoddy fanfic halfway through sorry 'bout that.

[neptoons1998]

Chili Brownies

Summary: Everything is going quite well in Okoye's life. Her family was healthy, her business was booming, and she learned to fall in love again. Too bad the universe loves screwing with our girl.

A/N: I'm back! this one is in the same universe as Rolling Dough.

Chapter 1

Life for Okoye was finally coming easy for her. Essicaly when she was around her Attuma. The man could do no wrong in her eyes. Okoye wouldn’t lie it did take her some time for her to get used to the idea on rely on someone. That said person actually shows up and helps. It only took two days for the man to confess his feelings. The couple decided on having a date inside tonight, Okoye learned Attuma knew a way around the kitchen. He wasn’t a disaster like Okoye when it came to actual cooking. “Baking is completely different,” Okoye plead as she failed miserably to hold back her own laugh. 

“Whatever you have to say to make yourself feel better,” Attuma chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her waist. After dinner, Okoye was cuddling under Attuma’s chest as they half-watched some action movie on the couch. 

“I want to tell you how I feel about you,” Attuma said; Okoye came to the realization that she might like cuddling and all that cute shit she saw Ayo and Aneka do when they come to her house after all.

“Oh,” Okoye replied taking her eyes away from the action-flick movie they decided on watching. Attuma took a deep breath, “I love you, Okoye. I knew I was going to fall in love with you the moment I step foot in your bakery. And I want us to be together for a long time.”

Okoye could feel her heart beating fast as she looked deeply into Attuma’s eyes, “I-I like you. A whole lot too.”

Attuma smiled at her letting their foreheads touch, “One day I’ll get you to say what you truly feel, Okoye.”

It was a quiet day at the Runaway Dount. Aneka was playing music way too loudly, while Okoye just finished wrapping up paying bills for the store. These past couple of months have been very nice. Does it have to do with a certain man in Okoye’s life? 

“So where’s the Jolly Green Giant  take you out tonight?” Aneka asked. To say her cousin and sisters were over the moon that Okoye was finally moving on is an understatement. No longer the woman felt stuck in her life she was able to live the life she wanted to. 

“He said found this Thai place around here, while he was jogging the other day,” Okoye recalled she most definitely will not be bringing up that he was thinking about her why on his run. As much as she loved her family she knew how they take an inch and try to run into a mile. 

“Ah,” Aneka sighed, “How romantic, but as romantic as my lovely Ayo.” 

Okoye rolled her eyes at that response, “Good to know that my sister is treating you right

“Yes, always the best, esp-”

“I DON’T WANT TO KNOW!” Okoye shouted as she plugged her ears. As she waited she looked at her display case, I should probably make some more Old Fashions donuts and some Strawberry frosted as well, the owner thought. She could always trust Aneka to take things way too far. Her sister loving that she had an effect on her crackled at her. Just before Okoye was about to boss her sister around the door’s bell rang out. 

“Hello, welcome,” Okoye called out as she turned back to the front, “What ca-”

The words died in her throat, why can’t the world give her a break? Here she was finally moving on with her life. Everything was coming together, and now this!

“W’kabi,” Okoye croaked.

[hypmicdaydreams]

Hewo! May i req hc of sasara and ramuda with s/o thats rosho's younger sister? 👉👈

Tysm and good to see you back ☺

these turned out quite long (i esp had to cut back a lot on sasara’s part 😵‍💫), but really, i do hope you enjoy anon!! hope they were to your liking~ and tysm for your support 💕

-pairings: sasara nurude x f!reader, ramuda amemura x f!reader

-genre: fluff

sasara

it's backstage after another successful night that he first meets you, and sasara often liked to joke with you that it was a 'love at first sight' sorta thing

well, there was some truth to that i suppose. you had come to support your brother, all on your own accord, yet also chastsized for giving him a damn near heart attack. you should've said something beforehand, rosho scolded, a bit of a apologetic expression you held

but to sasara, that was perhaps when the admiration began, planted a seed in his heart. he was an only child, and he didn't necessarily come from the best home life. watching the love and support from a sibling, how you traveled all the way to one of your brother's shows in support, well, it was moving and made his heart act up in ways

huh, sasara didn't quite remember rosho ever mentioning that he had sister, and a cute one at that

and it sparked like that, sasara not-so-subtly introducing himself and flirting, throwing in one of his surefire jokes here and there. and when you laughed at them so cutely, he knew that he had developed somewhat of a hopeless crush

rosho's a bit oblivious at first, though highly suspicious. it's hard not to be when his friend and comedy partner keeps asking about his sister here and there, how your new job was coming along, if you needed help moving; and it only deepens when you ask the same things back at home, such as if, by chance, he was looking

but it's not too difficult to piece together, and he can't help but sigh when he confronts sasara (and you, by that manner), especially from how that idiot tried his hardest to deny. two oblivious idiots in love, truly

"it's fine to date my sister," rosho obliges, and it doesn't go unnoticed the way sasara perks up. "it's not like i can tell her who or who not to date. besides," and he says down more quietly, looking off to the side and rubbing his neck, "i trust you with her"

and just like that, sasara is right at your doorstep, way too eager to confess. his heart's rapid firing, the smile doesn't leave, yet the butterflies and anxiety get to him. how uncharacteristic, he tells himself, but oh was it nerve-wracking, more so than his performances (and ofc, you say yes, never seeing a man more elated)

your appearance at their shows become much more frequent, the backstage flirting much less subtle. you're gushing over your now-boyfriend, saying how absolutely hilarious he was up there, and sasara reciprocates

rosho can't help but cringe internally, especially at how he's outcasted as the third-wheel

and i'm sure the two of you are always asking rosho what the other likes, how to impress or what to give as gifts because, well, he's the mediary. he knows the other the best and probably has to be some sort of middleman, but only to a small extent of course. it was kinda inevitable perhaps

you guys definitely do crack some jokes at his expense lmao, such as how odd his humor is or how he's certainly oblivious, even now when he doesn't get that you're joking about him much later (which he scolds the two of you for and turns this adorable shade of red)

but you're also gushing about him as well, about how he does so well up on stage and admiring him. you and sasara are the founder of the rosho appreciation club most certainly

it's double the trouble and headache for him, but as an older brother and comedy partner, rosho is certainly happy to see the two of you doing well with one another. he'd never outright say it, but he cared, a lot (he had a bit of a big heart i like to think)

you guys have your ups and downs, especially when the duo dissociates. it was difficult for sasara to face you, rosho's sister, but you do have to take the initiative and set things straight with him given that he wasn't all too good with communication (things do work out, eventually, given how sasara still had the desire to be with you)

and, of course, when dh is formed once more, things certainly do go back to as close to normal, and this time you're cheering on from the sidelines of the division battles

it works out, overall; you two were practically made for each other, is what rosho liked to say when you guys get into trouble

you two were a headache for rosho. cute, but oh so troublesome

ramuda

it's in typical ramuda fashion that he first makes a move on you when you're in shibuya for a business trip

you're such a cute lady, he thinks, walking around the city with no sense of where to go. you're lost, that much is clear, and he approaches you; i mean, what else would a gentleman do i suppose

and ramuda pulls out his cutesy act, flirting with you and saying how absolutely adorable you look in the sundress you're wearing, pulling out all the stops. well, it's nothing more than an act, at first anyway

it's flattering, of course, especially when you're being picked on by one of the strongest division leaders in the country. it was when the for you started, nothing more than a tiny crush, though the more times you guys ran into one another the more they were reciprocated on his end

he doesn't find out that you're rosho's sister until the two of you begin dating, and it's some time after, a fact that ramuda finds out himself when you. it doesn't matter too much, brushing it off when you offhandedly point him out in a photo, but he wouldn't lie that a tiny bit of him was surprised to find out that you were siblings with one of his rival divisions

maybe he's a tad annoyed at first, seeing that you were related to that one guy from dotsuitare hompo (not that he could recall much from him); but ramuda is also a little bit of a prick, of course. he definitely smirks just a tad to himself knowing he's dating one of his rival's siblings, so certain to rub it in your brother's face next time

and your older brother does not like him one bit

perhaps it was rosho's brother instincts kicking in, or maybe it was the tiny bit of uneasiness that settled in his gut, but gosh did he not like your boyfriend at all when you tell him all about ramuda

ramuda, well, didn't exactly give off the best vibes, especially with that childish (and annoying, mind you) act he put up. rosho's perhaps a bit dumbfounded at first, but he wishes you all the best

of course, you're your own person, and it's not as if he stops you or anything, but man does rosho make it clear that ramuda wasn't exactly his favorite. the agitated look and scowl he had whenever you brought him up or gushed about him was more than obvious

but he respects you and your relationships, of course (not that rosho most certainly wouldn't challenge him to a battle if ramuda were to ever hurt you)

ramuda definitely likes to tease you about supporting fling posse when the division rap battles come around, fake crying and pulling out his usual childish act

"wahh, you're so cruel," he whines, poking your cheek. "you won't even support your own boyfriend's team!" all in good fun, naturally (though ramuda would certainly be a tad egoistic hearing you cheer from the stands; it made him more determined to win)

and ramuda's a bit nosy, always poking for embarrassing stories about your brother, especially when you convince rosho to join the two of you for lunch to get to know one another more. ramuda was having the time of his life, at the expense of rosho's dignity perhaps

i do think he'd love to tease rosho about it as well, calling him brother-in-law and the like, if only to relish in the absolutely irritated tone rosho took on after

ramuda knew your brother didn't like him all that much, but you certainly did, and that was all that really mattered

and oh he is he a prick alright, especially once his team wins the championship. you run up to congratulate him, kissing him right then and there, and he couldn't be happier, relishing in the moment

and ramuda would turn back to rosho and stick out his tongue at him in such a childish manner afterwards. he'd won your affection after all, and he was going to stick it to rosho most definitely

the irritated look on his face was oh so worth it, the irate mark oh so clear

rosho couldn't believe his sister would fall for someone like that gremlin

[outerbankies]

LITTLE BLURB YES PLS!

only since you said please!

(disclaimer: this takes place during part 5 but in this version they went to topper’s, not griffin’s after midsummers. don't put too much stock into any of this—esp john b's appearance at the end—it's not important for the plot at the end of part 5, promise. just a scene i liked before i kinda changed the direction of the end of the part and had to delete stuff + rework some logistics.)

new light blurb: afterglow — rafe cameron

warnings: drinking, swearing, mentions of sex (minors dni)

“Times’it?” Rafe asks from his spot on your chest, his morning voice cracking from misuse and sending vibrations through your entire torso. “Hm?” You mumble, blindly running a hand through his hair. Your sleep-addled mind could still make out that your boyfriend smelled like chlorine.

“Time?” he reiterates.

You hum noncommittally, cracking just one eye open to search for your phone in the sheets. You can’t resist scratching a hand across his abs as you do, giggling when the muscles jump at your touch. You finally find your phone under your hip, only to discover a black screen when you try to power it on. “It’s dead.” “What would you do without me?” he chides, rolling over out of your hold to check his phone on the night stand, stopping his army crawl up the bed to give you a peck as he goes. He pulls his phone off of his charger. “Damn.” “What time is it?” You plaster yourself to his back, burrowing your face into the back of his warm neck and placing a kiss there. “Nearly noon, party girl,” he coos, plugging your phone in for you when you hand it to him and turning back over. You fall onto his chest, humming when he runs a hand through your hair. “We have to meet my sister and her boyfriend in an hour.” “Tell them to pick us up,” you whine. “And bring us coffee.” “Top said he had coffee delivered earlier. It’s in the kitchen,” he says, scrolling through the missed notifications on his phone. You hold your hand out for it, opening his Snapchat camera to check your appearance once he gives it to you. You gasp. “Oh god, I slept with my makeup on,” you groan, seeing your mascara had gathered in smears and bits under your eyes. You send a snapchat to Topper, typing out ‘please tell me you have makeup wipes.’ Rafe snatches his phone back out of your hand, saving the photo to his camera roll before he sends it for you, laughing maniacally as you whine. “I look like a panda.” “Mm,” he murmurs, setting his phone back down on the nightstand and snuggling down into the covers, arms circling in a vice grip around your waist. He assesses you one more time before letting his eyes shut again, pressing a long kiss to your forehead then resting his cheek against it. “Or maybe a raccoon. A cute one though.” “Nice save.” “I try,” he murmurs, cracking his eyes back open, looking down at you again, leaving it up to you to make that last move. You do, thumb on his chin angling him down at a good angle for you to kiss him. Rafe makes a pleased noise into your mouth, already shifting to lay on top of you, the arm that’s not holding his weight over you sliding under your back, fingers skimming underneath the back of your shirt—his shirt. There’s a knock on your door, a worse for wear looking Topper Thornton appearing in the doorway. “Hey, watch it bro,” Rafe admonishes, shifting off of you and making sure the duvet is covering you. “She’s not dressed.” “Chill, Rafe.” “Sorry, Y/n/n,” Topper says, but you just wave him off. He staggers into the room with a packet of makeup wipes, handing them off to you then promptly flopping down at the foot of the bed after you pat it, not unlike how you summon Wilbur. “I’d say I died and came back to life, but I think I just died.” “Me too, bud,” you sigh, started to scrape as much makeup as you can off your face. “Top, these are bougie.” “Did Blythe leave them here?” Rafe teases. Topper wouldn’t stop talking about this girl from his school that came to visit him a few weeks ago, and Rafe kept ribbing him for it every chance he could. “They’re my mom’s,” Topper mumbles, face down in the bed. “Fuck you.” “Down bad. Where’s Kelce?” “Last I knew, passed out in the tub down the hall.” Rafe laughs, pulling you closer to him, still making sure the covers are up to your waist. He pulls your shirt closer together where the buttons were undone. “Topper, close your eyes. I’m getting out of bed.” “I don’t think I could open them if I wanted to.” “She told you to close them,” Rafe says, kicking him from under the covers. “Ugh, you two make me sick,” he mutters, still moving to cover his eyes with his hand. “There.” “Thanks bestie,” you say, hopping out of bed to throw away your used makeup wipe. You hear a crash from down the hall as you settle back into bed. “Is that Kelce?” Rafe asks. “Kelce is dead,” a voice says from the doorway. Kelce is wearing sunglasses, his pink suit jacket from

Midsummers still on, but not much else underneath. “I am a new person. One that is never drinking again.” “Wait,” Topper says, resting up on his forearms suddenly, looking down at the covers under him, then to Rafe, shirtless, and you, wearing his dress shirt. Your dress, probably still damp from the night before, hangs over the shower rod in the en suite. “Please don’t tell me you guys had sex in my guest bed.” You blush, immediately denying it. “No, of course—” “Might wanna tip your maids extra,” Rafe cuts you off, laughing when you hide under the covers. He stops when you kick him in the shin. Topper fake wretches, making Kelce actually wretch before he runs down the hall. —

You’re whining about the bruise Rafe left on your hip, which your yellow bikini bottom strap so conveniently dug into, when John B steers the Druthers up to Topper’s dock. Rafe hops on first, helping you after him, tugging your t-shirt—which was actually his undershirt from last night—down further for you, even though it’s already brushing the tops of your thighs. He can’t resist the urge to press on the bruise with his thumb, grinning when you suck in air through your teeth. “You’ll be fine. Don’t act like you didn’t like it.” You push him away from your ear, trying to suppress a shiver. You can’t even remember if it was from his hand or his mouth. “Sarah!” you greet, leaving Rafe to follow behind you. It isn’t long before he’s smacking John B’s hands away from the steer, taking his rightful spot. He looks silly wearing one of Topper’s shirts, stretched a bit too tightly around his bigger build, the hemline falling a bit too high on his stomach. You’d offered to wear it instead so he could have his own shirt back; he didn’t take kindly to it, huffing and forcing Topper’s shirt over his shoulders. You even think you heard a seem rip. “Hey, Y/n,” Sarah says, hugging you and offering you a White Claw. You politely decline and she giggles. “Rough night?” You just shake your head, settling into Rafe’s side where he’s driving the boat. John B keeps trying to touch things and Rafe smacks his hands away, every single time. “Be nice, Rafe.” “Ooh,” John B says in delight, and Rafe just shakes his head. “Am I making you look bad in front of your girl, Cameron?” You open your mouth to say something, comment on how their relationship had evolved since high school. But Rafe’s admittance of his insecurities last night was still fresh in your mind, and you didn’t want to stir anything back up. You just lean further into his side, squeezing him around the waist. “Watch it, Routledge,” he says, smacking John B in the back of his head. “I’m still your girlfriend’s big brother.”

—

tags: @moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @amourtentiaa @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23

[whumperooni]

Abo thirst hm... just the whole concept of abo and how alphas have a knot and cunts like swell to suck the knot deeper in?? Makes me lose my goddamn mind. Esp when its super taboo like touya nii or something ((≡ຶ◡≡ຶ)) just how hot touya nii’s knot would be and how WARM his cum would be. How hot his balls would be as well as they pulse and push against his wittle sister’s ass. Just goes absolute feral and uses alpha pheromones to keep his sister constently slick and ready for him.

Mmmm yes yes yes to all this.

I know this is an older ask, but every time I see this I can't help but to sigh dreamily.

Of course, Touya-nii would take advantage of his poor little sister's heat. Of course, Touya-nii would slip drugs into the water he coaxes you to drink just to flames the fans that much more hot. Of course, Touya-nii would drag you to a hotel for ultimate privacy while you're delirious and whining and unable to say no and keep you locked in a gorgeous suite.

And, of course, Touya-nii would immediately be on top of you as soon as you're secured from prying eyes.

You can call him an asshole and a pervert and a disgusting creep all you want when you get a moment of clarity, but that's not going to stop him- you're doomed from the first clench of your greedy cunt, you're /fucked from the first mewl you let out whenever he's balls in deep and his teeth are sinking into your neck.

Moments of clarity are all you can ask for- now that Touya-nii's found his newest addiction, he's never going to let you go.

Even if that means keeping in you a heat addled haze. Even if that means hiring back alley doctors when your stomach starts to show.

Of course, he'll have to plan a cover up- some "accident" so he can erase you from the family register and keep busybodies away from the apartment he's fixing up for you and his pups in the meantime. But that's easy and soon enough Touya will be stuffing you full as he pleases, breeding his little sister like he's been fantasizing about ever since he first got hint of your heat scent.

At the very least, you'll be too fucked out and hazy minded to care too much- as long as your alpha keeps filling you why should you care about not seeing the sun for months at a time, not being allowed out of the confines of your home until he decides it's time to move, find a safer spot. The pups will keep you company, too, when he has to go away.

Really, it's a good situation for you- you're spoiled by your nii-san, want for nothing other than his cock and his knot and his warm cum that fills you so perfectly and the opportunity to please him well enough that you'll be pounded into a drooling, twitching mess.

You're lucky that Touya is the one that got to you- your father would be so much worse.

[wizkiddx]

...surprise

um okay so here I am trying angst again. this is kind of intended to be open ended bcos might have a part two at some point. im also lazy and has a few time jumps. also if someone could pls explain if you just get pics for the top of these off internet or credit on like gifs or something that’d be appreciated.

Summary: Tom comes home and everything is most definitely not the way he left, nor is it healthy

Warnings: please read with caution esp relationship with food / weightloss, but just generally a person in a bad bad head space, lots of self blame - then next parts will carry different warnings too

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

Tom had been away for months. Months and months away from his girlfriend, separated entirely by his filming locations in Europe and America; while you were busy slowly and steadily climbing the ranks of your law firm. Being an intense period for the pair, you hadn’t managed to see each other in 2 and a half months.  Of course, both go you were used to this - 3 years deep into a relationship between an actor and a wanna-be lawyer- this was the name of the game.

But honestly? You both just kept falling deeper and deeper, making the separation harder to deal with - rather than getting used to it as one might hope.

That's why Tom felt such an incredibly overwhelming wave of relief as he dumped his bags just outside his front door. Even though he was exhausted from the travelling, just the mere act of finally phishing out his housekeys brought a massive grin to his face - caused particularly by the sight of his tacky little keyring from a Moroccan market that you’d bought him. That had been your first holiday. There’s that old saying that before you move in with someone go on holiday first - Tom understood it to mean you supposedly see all the bad and ugly stuff people can hide from each other, a prewiring before committing to living in the same space. However that holiday all he’d learned was incredible you are to him. To his dying day, Tom will never forget the moment he looked over to his left when the two of you were on this night time stargaze in the depth of the Moroccan desert. Y/n had never seen stars like it, the skies so incredibly clear and lit up with an array of magical blues and purples and whites on its sark background. The sight, for no unexplainable reason, had you completely opening up to Tom about things she’d never told a single soul. And in that moment he’d had this sort of realisation. Not about how much he loved her - because that is just the cliche thing everyone says… and also just wasn’t true.

In that moment he’d rather realised the potential. The sort of ‘I’m not there yet but I know you could become the centre of my universe’. The sort of ‘I’m not ready to say this yet, but I want to spend my life with you’. The sort of ‘at some point in my life I’m not sure my heart will be able to beat without yours’.

He still hadn’t quite got to explicitly saying all that yet, by asking you for the ultimate commitment. But he planned to now he was coming back to you.

Even with the chill of the early evening winter air, Tom was almost ecstatic as he unlocked the door and let himself in. He hadn’t told you that he was coming home, you thought he had another two weeks on the job, but Tom was a bit of an old romantic - he loved seeing your eyes fill with wonder as he surprised you in whatever way. Sometimes it was as simple as a note on the fridge, or a small bouquet from behind his back or as fancy as a surprise holiday.

However, this time, though it was only 6 in the evening, all the lights of their house were off making Tom raise an eyebrow as he quietly slipped off his shoes - not wanting to scare Y/n just in case.

Tom had sworn when he’d been on the phone with you the previous day, you didn’t have any plans tonight but perhaps maybe a spontaneous pub trip and been offered with work colleagues. The house felt a little cold as he padded through it, poking his head into every room just to check Y/n wasn’t there. His last port of call was the bedroom.

By this point, Tom was pretty resigned on the fact you were out and he’d maybe cook a meal for when you got back or hide about the house or something. But instead, when he poked his head around this door, he sighed in delight at the sight of a still mound under the plush white sheets. For a brief moment, Tom paused, before tiptoeing steadily round to her bedside. The light was still off but the hallway light illuminated the room enough so he could make out your soft features and the messy ball of hair that had been haphazardly thrown in a bun. Furthermore, he could also notice in the light the packet of painkillers and migraine tablets lying opened on the bedside - which made him freeze. Y/n didn’t get migraines often at all, but when she did Tom knew just how bad they could be. That explained the fact you were spark out at six o’clock, making Tom give a sympathetic smile. He crept back out the room with a little spring in his step, deciding that since he had had a long day travelling he'd grab a snack and join you. Unfortunately though, when he enthusiastically yanked the fridge open the sight was a rather depressing one. He didn’t really know what he was craving but the fridge contents were of almost no use to anyone. The place was bloody baron, apart from a tub of butter and of course his special beers that Y/n would never dare touch. With a small huff though, Tom resigned himself to some bread and butter, before getting ready for bed.

It was probably an hour later when Tom was carefully crawling under the duvet to settle in beside Y/n after the disappointing snack and maybe a solitary ‘welcome home beer’ - it would be rude not to. God was he excited to just have his girlfriend in his arms again though. So, Tom naturally reached over and powerfully yet gently pulled you back towards him - making your back flush with his as you mumbled something incoherent. Chuckling slightly at your apparent annoyance of being disturbed, Tom pressed a kiss to her temple before settling down momentarily.

But something wasn’t quite right, making Tom shuffle about a bit - ever adjusting huis grasp on your waist as he attempted to get comfy. With the migraine medications forcing you into a deep deep sleep you barely stirred and that just made the unease increase for Tom. Because you didn’t feel right. This didn’t feel right. Ever so slowly Tom started to peel back the duvet from your body from his now sitting upright position. Typically, Y/n was wearing one of his hoodies, however more concerningly it seemed to pool and collect around your frame more than normal.

Now, Y/n was never the most petite person in the world - by no means overweight, instead of beautiful curves and muscle. To Tom now though, it was as if someone had literally shrunk you - like a picture on a word document you needed to make narrower to fit the margins. Even in the dim light of the bedroom he know realised you looked pale. Honestly, Tom didn’t know how long he just sat there staring at you, until you sighed a little and pulled the duvet back up to just under your chin.

He didn’t know what to think or do. All he knew was you didn’t look well and that you hadn’t said a thing to him. Feeling so very uncomfortable within himself, Tom climbed out the bed and simultaneously grabbed his phone. He knew he had to call someone, to check that you hadn’t been ill - but then who to call? Someone that wouldn’t judge or instantly worry- your mum was completely off the cards. Also, he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain yet, so really he knew there was only a couple of options who were close enough to him too.

“Hey what’s up?” “Um nothing much, back in the UK though so-“ “Oh shit really! Kept that one quite bro” “Yeh well came back to surprise Y/n” “Oh you're soooo whipped” “Fuck off Haz, have you um… have you seen her recently anyway?” “You're asking me if I’ve seen your girl while you’ve been away?” “I’m being serious. You’re pretty much brother and sister and I’m -I’m a bit worried.” “What? You know she wouldn’t cheat especially with me” Haz’s tone turned less serious, using a goofy accent “ I know too much.” Haz still attempted to lighten the mood, this conversation very unexpected and making him grow more and more concerned himself. “Haz quit it. I’m worried she’s been ill. I’ve come in and she’s asleep with a migraine but there’s no food in the fridge and she’s skinny as hell.” “Fuck er sorry I didn’t realise. But um no she’s been cancelling on us for the past like two weeks cos like…I don’t know said she was just snowed under at the firm so” “But before then?” “No yeh she was fine. Went to the pub a couple times and she always drove so didn’t drink but nothing weird - think she wanted to keep a clear head. What are you thinking?” “I don’t know to be honest mate. She seemed fine on the phone but I swear to god she looks half the size  of what she was when I left.” “Just talk to her in the morning? She probably is just stressed if work has been mad busy.” Tom hummed in agreement, half trying to convince himself too. “Yeh yeh, sorry for bothering you.” “Oh shut up mate - I’ll see you both at your parents for the roast tomorrow? Sams got some new recipe I think, he’s been wittering on about it for days.” “Yeh we’ll be there, see you then mate.” 

After signing off to Haz, Tom placed his phone on the little table on the upstairs hallway and sighed. He knew he was being over-protective but he couldn’t help it. Y/n was always the one to care for him, in fact to care for everybody int he room and then some.

He’d get to the bottom of whatever this was tomorrow, and so the rest of the evening Tom spent rather unhappily get ready before bed yet again before climbing back in next to you.

///////////////////////////

Tom woke before you, a combination of jet lag and the worry in the pit of his stomach meaning he stirred awake first. Instinctively he pulled you closer and nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck as he slowly began to wake up properly - shrugging off the grogginess. Tom was still really excited for you to realise he was back, predicting you  to excitedly hug him ever so tight and then spend the morning between the sheets. He knew you found the distance tough, especially when all your closest friends were coupled off, it meant you just didn’t have ‘your person’. It was almost as if you were single again and instead of pining over an ex, hopelessly and completely in love with someone across the globe. But that just made your time together even more invaluable and precious.

So even with his slight unease at your slimmer silhouette, Tom didn't have any control over the loopy grin that came to his face as you started to stir and mumble something incoherent, all the while (and subconsciously) inching closer towards him. By the slight fluttering under your eyelid, Tom knew you were waking up and so took the moment to tuck your frizzy bed hair behind your ear. Sighing contently Y/n’s eyes fluttered completely open and Tom met your gaze with the most gently of smiles.

However, he then watched moment by moment as your expression morphed for one of peacefulness and content, through confusion, and ending at pure terror. He had barely thought of asking you why, before you yelped, throwing yourself up into a sitting position and backing as far away on the bed as you could from Tom. “TOM... I-you can’t be here! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!” “Y/n hey what’s wrong-“ “GET OUT! G-GET THE FUCK OUT! YOU CAN’T BE HERE” you  yanked the bedsheets to completely cover your huddled up body, as if trying to protect yourself. At this point, tears were streaming down your face and what truly terrified Tom was the expression of horror in your eyes. He threw his hands in the air and unsteadily stumbled to his feet. “O-okay I’m-“ “GET OUT!!! YOU CAN'T SEE ME GET OUT!” Completely bemused and shocked, Tom just nodded jerkily -already halfway out the door and accidentally slamming it in haste.

He had absolutely zero clue what that was about. But what he knew for a fact? He’d never ever seen you like that… you looked so completely terrified… of him? Tom couldn’t for the life of him work out what the hell was going on, as he paced from the shut door to the hallway wall and back again, running his hand through his hair throughout. He could hear you sobbing and whisper yelling - presumably at yourself. It felt as though his heart was being torn out, seeing you that upset and it appearing as his fault? He was acting on pure instinct and adrenalin because your pain hurt him too. He had no control of the physiological response in his body, making his hands shake and breathing increase in speed as it inversely got shallower too.

And so he took a short inhalation, biting his bottom lip as he knocked on the door. “Y/n?….” He got no response after waiting a couple of seconds so tried again - because he could hear you trying to stifle your sobs. After another two failed attempts he opted for a different approach. “Y/n… I’m worried about you… look, I know your upset right now but I need you to let me know your okay… or I’ll have to come in and…and I don’t want to spook you” “Don’t come in.” It was a sharp reply, with a voice that was cracked and clearly trying to keep It together. “Okay… I-I’m sorry if my surprise of coming home was a dumb idea…I-I’ve missed you.” Tom tried speaking softly, as he knelt down and sat with this back against the wall while nervously fiddling with his watch strap that he’d forgot to take off last night. Again he waited for a response but got nothing, again having to warn you he needed to know you were okay. He heard movements from the other side of the door, making him turn his head to the left, pressing his ear on the cool gloss paint. “I-I’m sorry” You barely were whispering, but Tom could sense you were now sitting in a position mirroring his “You don’t meed to apologise love” Returning her tone, Tom sighed at the end - trying to get his brain to process what was going on.

Y/n wasn’t one to overreact and Tom could count on one hand the number of serious fights they’d had in the three year romance. And even then, he was the one to raise his voice - when she argued it was more reasoned, slow and controlled. Actually it was one of the things that in those moments infuriated him even more - you were just so level headed and sensible. Scratch that, sensible purely in this context - everywhere else you were just as loopy as him. So this situation felt so very alien. He didn’t know how to help you and he bloody hated feeling useless.

After a few moments, you replied to apologise once again, for shouting specifically,  and Tom nodded - not that you could see. But that was one of the things Y/n had taught him, sometimes you just have accept things - no matter the context. Accept he wasn’t actually a superhero and couldn’t do everything, accept that sometimes he could be a dick and out of line or accept an apology.

“Can you.. can you try and tell me why your upset? I want to help.” He was trying to be gentle, non-confrontational. But he knew something was so wrong. He needed to know so he could try and help out. “I…”Y/n began, but quickly trailed off, as if trying to formulate the words properly. “I’ve just been ill and” again another pause “and I haven’t been looking after myself very well. I just planned to be umm- to be better when you got back.”

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t really the truth either, at least not the whole truth. But it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m not sure I understand why your so worried about what I think though?” Tom inquired, as he started to fiddle with the door handle in his left hand - as if easing the idea of coming into his girlfriend without scaring you. In reply, you sighed again trying to put the words together without explicitly spelling it out to him. “I don’t- I thought you’d just be disappointed or-or think I’m reliant on you. I’m not and I can handle myself I just…. I don’t know.” “I love you, you idiot.”Tom chuckled at that, while standing up. “Can I come in now please? I promise I’m not disappointed just want to help you feel better.”

The door opened and no sooner could Tom take a step forward than Y/n ran into his chest, wrapping herself tightly around him in apology. He knew that he didn’t have the full story but really didn’t want to push her, more preferring to just love her. So that’s what they spent the rest of the morning doing, in their pyjamas and watching TV. Quite obviously, she wasn’t really making a lot of conversation, Tom filled some gaps with talking about filming - to which she’d hum in agreement or chuckle along. But for the most part Y/n was concentrating on something else.

The all-consuming guilt. That was what was eating away at her.

part 2?

[silhouetteofacedar]

When We Drive, Ch. 2: Early Flights, Used Tissues, and a Swan

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated T (for now)

Dulles Access Road, Dulles, Virginia

6:27 AM EST

September 1995

It’s easier for them to talk when they’re in the car. Maybe it’s because they can’t make eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time, only observing each other at intervals as one of them drives. Over the past couple years Mulder’s spent in cars with Scully, he’s learned her patterns. Given enough silence and time to percolate, a gentle question or offhand comment might spur on a deeper conversation.

Not today. Today she seems more distant than usual. Granted, the sun’s barely up, and she’s decidedly not a morning person. They’d met at the Hoover building before 6 a.m., Scully shoving her suitcase in the trunk of his car and bundling herself into the passenger seat, all the while grumbling about needing more coffee and wanting to shoot whoever booked their early morning flight to Oklahoma.

It was him. He doesn’t mention it.

It’s a forty minute drive from the Federal Triangle to Dulles International Airport and they haven’t said more than two full sentences to each other for most of the way. Mulder has the radio on softly, in case Scully is trying to snooze. He figured some classical music might sooth the rumpled, sleep-deprived agent plotting his demise in the seat next to him.

He recognizes the piece that comes on; the Swan, he thinks, by Camille Saint-Saëns. He turns the volume up cautiously, allowing the delicate piano and violin to waft through the sedan.

He glances over to see if Scully is awake and is surprised to find her staring straight ahead, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“Scully?” he says softly. “You alright?”

“Pull over,” she says quietly.

“What? Why?” Mulder asks in surprise as he slows the vehicle onto the shoulder.

“I’m fine,” she replies, her voice tight. As soon as the car stops she hastily unbuckles her seatbelt and clambers out.

Mulder watches her in the rearview mirror as she stiffly walks several paces away from the car before stopping and dropping her head. He sees her shoulders begin to shake.

He turns off the engine, switches on the hazard lights. He gets out of the car, the cool morning air nipping at his cheeks. His shoes crunch in the gravel as he steps up behind her. “Scully?” he says cautiously.

She’s sobbing. She’s angling herself away from him, cupping her face with her hands, and he can sense that this is something she doesn’t want him to see. He lays a careful hand on her shoulder, and she doesn’t react.

He can tell she doesn’t want to face him, and her won’t make her. Instead he lightly wraps his arms around her shoulders from behind, rests his cheek on the top of her head as she cries.

They probably look ridiculous, one federal agent holding  another at dawn on the side of the road, but he doesn’t care.

Scully’s shoulders relax as she sniffs noisily and slips from his arms. “I’m fine, Mulder,” she says uselessly, voice soggy with tears.

“I-I know,” he says quietly. “But I thought you might need a friend.”

Scully busies herself with extracting a tissue from the little pack she keeps in her coat pocket. “She liked you,” she says, blowing her nose. “Granted, she thought you were a little unhinged, but she saw good in you.”

Mulder stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Scully women are very discerning,” he says.

“Mm,” Scully replied, nodding. “Missy was. Though she always insisted I had the second sight.”

“An Da Shealladh,” Mulder says. “Irish ESP.”

Scully shakes her head. “Of course you know what it is,” she says, voice sad and almost fond.

“A skeptical scientist with the sixth sense,” Mulder muses, kicking a stray rock across the pavement. “I”ll admit I find the idea intriguing.”

Scully shrugs. “It was just one of Melissa’s things.” She sighs heavily, tilts her face towards the dawn-pink sky. “She liked that song,” she says by way of explanation.

He nods in understanding. Grief doesn’t announce itself; it creeps in beside you, lays a cold hand on your heart, steals your breath. Mulder’s been battling it in some form or other since the day Samantha vanished. Melissa’s been gone for less than a month, and yet Scully still forges ahead in spite of it. He’s in awe of her resilience.

So they stand there together on the side of the road, draped in dark wool; two searching, hungry people with stolen sisters. The needle aches as it enters them, the thread tugging their skin as they are slowly, painfully stitched to each other. Two mismatched halves being sloppily joined with sharp cords of loss.

“It’s cold out here,” Mulder says eventually, stepping forward and giving her sleeve a gentle tug, “And we have a flight to catch. Let’s get the engine running. We can crank the heater as high as you like,” he offers.

“You sure know how to show a girl a good time,” Scully answers wryly, voice still husky from crying. She bumps her shoulder against his arm as they walk back to the car.

“You can have some of my seeds, too,” he offers, then stops. “Sunflower seeds,” he explains quickly.

The corner of her mouth quirks upward. “Clearly.” she replies, raising an eyebrow at him. “I’d prefer coffee.”

“I buy you one at our gate,” he promises.

They’re tucked back into the car, safely belted in and reassembled. Mulder pauses with his key in the ignition. “If - when- this happens again,” he stammers, “You… you don’t have to hide it from me. I hope you know that.”

Scully’s lips are pressed together tightly, and she tilts her head in what could almost be a nod. “We should get going,” she replies.

The engine turns over, and they move forward.

[ijustwant2write]

The Visit-Shelby Brothers x Shelby!Sister

(GIF credit to @mormarsli​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Heyaa there, just want to say i love ur writings esp the Peaky fics *^*May i ask a request, Sister!Shelby one. Where they're at a cemetery, they talking and reminiscing about their childhood and stuff. They're always mentioning the reader and John memories (cause they're twins). Hope my request will be selected. Thank you in advance have a nc day 😊💕’

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Shelby!Reader, Arthur Shelby x Shelby!Reader, Finn Shelby x Shelby!Reader, John Shelby x Shelby!Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Death, graveyard, swearing, mourning, mentions of alcohol, violence and vandalism, fluff

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

With no clouds in the sky, the sun was able to shine bright, a lovely change to Small Heath’s usual dark, depressing weather. It was still cold, due to the biting wind that had arrived due to it being so close to Winter. But no one was complaining about this today, it made a lovely change, even the most miserable person could put on a small smile, for just a second.

For the Shelby’s however, it was ironic. With Arthur in the driver’s seat of the car, Tommy beside him and Finn stuck in the back, they all had solemn faces. The youngest Shelby stared down at the bouquet of flowers in his lap, both hands cradling it. They were a mix of white and various pink colours, the stems were trimmed and any thorns or leaves had been cut off. He couldn’t take his eyes away from them, they were the brightest thing he had seen around him for a long time, but he wasn’t sure whether that was ironic or mocking.

Arthur pulled up and braked, gripping onto the steering wheel as Tommy instantly got out. Finn hesitated before following, glancing back at his older brother who couldn’t seem to move. 

“Arthur.” Tommy gently said, not having closed the door yet.“Come on.”

“Yeah.” Arthur mumbled, still staring straight ahead.“I’m...I’m coming.”

With everyone out of the car, they clutched onto their coats as the cold hit them, though still taking long strides into the graveyard; it was big and open, stretching across a large field with rich, green grass, and a variation of headstones scattered across it. They made a beeline to the ones they were looking for, having done this walk many times. 

Arthur always dreaded the walk, the initial feeling of being there. It made him sick. To think someone from his family was in here, and no longer with them, it was an incredibly hard thing to get over. Finn couldn’t help but feel upset every time, almost on the verge of tears. He was always the one to carry the flowers, it had just become some sort of tradition. So it wasn’t surprising to see Tommy’s blank expression whenever they visited. Of course he had sobbed and wailed as he mourned over the death, but the lack of expressing his emotions made him easily hide how he really felt. And he knew that if he let it all out, his brother’s would become concerned, no one would have control.

“Well, here we are again.” Arthur said. 

Finn laid the flowers against the headstone, seeing the names before running his fingers along the engraving.“Here you are.”

“The girls were here a few days ago, hope they spoke to you as well. I’m sure they did, probably complaining about the likes of me.” Tommy coughed after speaking.

“Let’s be honest, they’re complaining about all of us.” Arthur tried to lighten the mood, though his smile held sadness.

A chuckle came from Finn.“Pol would always rant to me about (Y/N) and John, when I was still living with her. She would tell me everything they got up to as children, especially if I had done something similar and she was telling me off.”

“They were a pair of rascals.” Arthur added.“Never did anything without each other. And you could always tell when they were plotting something, there was just something in the air.”

“Remember when they stole the Christmas turkey? We were just kids then.” Tommy managed to smile.

“Fuck me, that was a long time ago. They thought it would be funny to take the turkey before it had been cooked, poor Pol had been slaving away in the kitchen all day. When she realised, all hell broke loose! Turns out, they had put it in next door’s chicken coop! Oh, remember their first night out? Their proper night out?”

“Even I remember that! I was only five, but the sight of them stumbling into the house was funny to me.” Finn exclaimed.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Tommy started.“We took them out, knowing they would be a mess the entire night. Your sister danced with any boy that glanced her way, jumping on top of tables and the bars. John was exactly the same, I’m sure he almost got two girls pregnant in one night. But John being John, he had to get into a fight at some point. Except (Y/N) also joined. As soon as she heard her brother yelling, she was right beside him. That confused those lads, especially when she started throwing punches just as hard as John.”

“No, but you know what was one of the best memories? Us finding them out of school, when they were trying to break into their teacher’s car.”

Finn’s eyes widened.“Why did they do that?!”

“Apparently a teacher disrespected our name, but to be fair, he was a bastard. They always complained about him when they returned home, so one day they decided to do something about it. They sneaked out of the school, found his car and used a wrench and a screwdriver to break into it. It wasn’t spontaneous because they brought the tools. We caught them in the act, obviously furious because this was proving the man’s point.”

“So you just left it?”

“Oh no, we smashed up his car. It was his fault for parking it in such a rough area. There had been loads of reports about vandalism.”

Finn laughed, making his older brothers smile. Their attention went back onto the headstones as they calmed down, a slight sadness returning to the atmosphere. 

Tommy sighed.“I’m sorry, we can’t stay for long. Got business to attend to, business that you would want to attend.”

Arthur clamped a hand down on Finn’s shoulder.“But we’re going to show the little one the ropes. Hopefully he’ll be just as good as you were.”

“I hate when we leave early. I could stay here for hours.” Finn said.

“I know, Finn. But Arthur’s got a point. We need to get you out there. Come on, before we start stalling.”

They all said goodbye to the stone, never feeling odd for speaking to it. It was a coping mechanism, almost a place to vent, to feel connected. Tommy lead again, Arthur catching up beside him to start talking about their plan. Finn looked over his shoulder, seeing that the flowers were no longer resting up against the stone. Rushing back, he propped them back up, kissing his hand before placing it to the headstones.

“I miss you both.” 

Slowly standing, he read their names, and the dates, hating how his heart sank. He was broken from the trance when Arthur called his name, running after them. But those etchings never left his head, the saddest thing he thought he would ever see.

John Shelby 1892-1926

(Y/N) Shelby 1892-1926

[thelastspeecher]

The Six Senses - Chapter 4: Ugly Things in the Darkness

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   AO3

It’s been three years since I posted Chapter 3 of this fic.  And now, I’m finally finishing it!  I had a lot of ideas and plans to do more than just four chapters, but inspiration is a fickle mistress, and I ran up against basically a wall.  Not to mention, while I was working on this last chapter, my Word doc kept freezing, so I think the Universe is trying to tell me to end the fic here.

Enjoy.

---

Summary: The assault on the company.

Ugly things in the darkness Worse things in store In the declining years Of the long war - The Mountain Goats, “In the Craters on the Moon”

——————————————————————————————

              Shermie’s van came to a stop outside a small, cozy cabin. Stan, Ford, Fiddleford, and Shermie got out.  Ford eyed the cabin.

              “Really?  This is where the kid lives?” he asked.

              “I think it looks lovely,” Shermie said. “Small, but homey.”

              “It’s the size that’s throwing Ford for a loop,” Stan explained, leaning against the van.  “The place is barely big enough for Dan’s voice.”  Shermie frowned.  “You’ll see.  Let’s head inside.”  The four headed for the cabin.  Just as Stan raised a hand to knock, the door opened, revealing Wendy.  Wendy beamed up at Stan.

              “Uncle Stan!” she chirped.  Stan scooped her into his arms with a playful growl.

              “Hey there, little gremlin,” he cooed.  Wendy giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. “Where are your parents?”

              “Mama’s in bed.”

              “And your dad?”

              “Right here,” a voice rumbled from behind the men. The men turned.  Dan Corduroy stood there, apparently just done with his work, judging by the dirty axe hefted over one shoulder.  “And ANGEL is STAYING in bed.  GOT IT?”

              “Angel?” Shermie asked.  Dan scowled.

              “My WIFE.”

              “Ah.  Yes. Is that- is that her name?” Shermie asked, clearly trying to be polite.  Dan’s scowl deepened.

              “It’s her NICKNAME.  Ever HEARD of one?”

              “Ah.  Okay.”

              “Good to see ya again, Dan,” Fiddleford said, holding out a hand.  Dan shook the offered hand.  Shermie goggled at how Fiddleford’s hand was dwarfed by Dan’s.  “How’s m’ sister doin’?”

              “All right, but NOT involved with THIS,” Dan said firmly.  “Doc says she CAN’T have more STRESS.  She’s staying OUT of this.”

              “Understood,” Ford said with a nod.  Dan sighed heavily.

              “But I can’t stay out of it,” he said somberly. Stan raised an eyebrow.

              He doesn’t use his inside voice very often.  He’s serious about this.

              Yeah, no shit, Ford said tartly.  Stan glared at him.

              Get outta my head, Sixer.  Ford rolled his eyes.

              Fine.

              “What do you mean, Dan?” Stan asked.  Dan sighed again.

              “These people…they’ve gone after my wife. They’ll go after my daughter, too. I can’t let them.”  He met Stan’s eyes squarely.  “Whether you like it or not, I’m coming with.”

              “We’ll be glad to have your help,” Ford said. He looked at Stan.  “Stan?”

              “Yeah, with Dan as backup, our odds are even better,” Stan confirmed.

              “Why do you think the company will go after your daughter?” Shermie asked.  Dan looked at Wendy, still in Stan’s arms.

              “Show ‘em, SWEETIE.”  Wendy nodded.  She closed her eyes.  Stan began to float off the ground.  He hovered for a few seconds before slamming back down onto his heels.  “Started happening LAST WEEK.  ANGEL says that’s how SHE started.”  Dan gripped his axe so tightly his knuckles turned white underneath his ginger hair.  “They WON’T do to Wendy what THEY did to my WIFE.”

              “No, they won’t,” Stan said firmly.  Dan looked at him.

              “Do you…KNOW?” he asked.  Stan reached for the information.  After a moment, he nodded.

              “Wendy’s safe.”  Dan’s shoulders slumped in relief.  “But only if we rescue Shermie’s grandkids.”  Dan grinned viciously.

              “Sounds GOOD to ME.  My AXE gets sick of TREES sometimes.”  Shermie, Fiddleford, and Ford blanched.  Stan, however, set Wendy on the ground.

              “Hey, kid, did you hear what your husband just said?” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

              “Yes, I certainly did!” the kid shouted from inside the house.  “And I’m not happy he made that sorta joke in front of people who don’t know his sense of humor!”  Stan smirked at Dan.  “You better all come inside so I can catch up with my family and scold my dear spouse!” Stan ruffled Wendy’s hair.

              “Go get your mama, sweetie.”  Wendy bolted inside.  Stan looked at Ford.  “Let’s go see our little sister.”  Ford smiled.

              “But of course.”

-----

              Dan’s pickup truck came to a stop inside a wooded clearing a little under a mile from the company’s headquarters.  Stan practically fell out of the car in his haste to be away from Dan’s distinctive body odor.

              “Do you ever shower?” Stan choked out.  Dan got out of the truck, scowling.

              “ANGEL likes it.”

              “Yeah, I don’t understand her sometimes,” Stan muttered.  Ford and Fiddleford got out as well.  “So, we all understand the plan?”  The other three men nodded.

              “We should go over it quickly, though,” Ford said. “We will break in by stealing some of the uniforms worn by the workers.  While Fiddleford causes a distraction, Stan and I use the map to track down Mabel and Mason.  Fiddleford leaves after causing his distraction, Stan and I leave after rescuing the infants, and we all meet up here with Dan.”  Everyone nodded.

              “If you NEED me, you can…”  Dan grimaced.  “You can get INSIDE my HEAD, Stanford.”

              “Really?” Ford asked.  Dan nodded.

              “I might HATE it, but it’s the EASIEST and FASTEST way to contact ME.  Can’t waste TIME with these PATHETIC worms.”

              “Usually I use more four-letter words to talk about the people who work for the company, but ‘pathetic worms’ isn’t bad,” Stan remarked. Dan grinned.

              “I just HOPE your CITY-SLICKER BROTHER takes care of my WIFE.”

              “Shermie will take great care of the kid and Wendy,” Ford said smoothly.  Dan nodded. Stan took a steadying breath.

              “We better go soon.”

              “Do our odds get worse if we wait?” Ford asked.

              “Yeah.”

              “Any particular reason why?”

              “‘Cause I’m gonna lose my nerve if I have to think about it much longer.”

-----

              One strong mental blast from Ford was enough to knock out the three guards by the back door.

              “You’ve gotten better at that,” Stan remarked as he removed the guards’ uniforms.

              “I’ve been practicing,” Ford replied.  Stan handed him a uniform.  “You’re physically much stronger than I am.  I have to be able to protect myself somehow.”

              “Yeah, yeah, I get it.  It’s just a bit surprising to see three men drop when all you did was look at them.”  Stan tossed a uniform to Fiddleford.  “Get dressed. We’ve gotta move fast.” Fiddleford nodded.  The three men pulled on the uniforms.  To Stan’s relief, the uniform included a full-face mask. Stan opened the door.  “All right, Fiddlenerd, go make us a distraction.” Fiddleford nodded and ducked inside.

              Stan and Ford waited a few minutes, then entered as well.  The moment they stepped into the building, Stan swore softly.

              “They’ve got dampeners up.”

              “We don’t need our ESP for this, though,” Ford said.

              “If everything goes right, we don’t,” Stan corrected.  “But that’s not what I’m worried about.  Mabel and Mason are babies.  The company’s already got power dampeners up for them, at this age?  Even the kid didn’t get dampeners until she was a toddler.” Ford stilled.  Stan couldn’t see Ford’s expression, but knew the blood had to be draining from his twin’s face.

              “Shermie’s grandchildren must be something special, to warrant such protection.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan shook his head.  “We can’t think about that right now.  We’ve gotta focus on getting the kids outta here.”

              “Absolutely.”  Ford pulled out the map.  He inspected it closely.  “I know which way to go.”

              “Well, age before beauty,” Stan said, gesturing for Ford to lead the way.  Ford huffed slightly, but began to walk.

              The company’s facility was different than Stan remembered.  He wasn’t sure whether it was because they had decided to switch up the design after relocating, or because he hadn’t seen it much when he was in the facility, since he had spent so much time locked in blindingly white rooms.

              Clearly, they haven’t changed their favorite color. The tile floor, walls, and even chairs and tables they passed were all white.  Would it kill them to have one piece of furniture that doesn’t look like it was bleached?  In the sea of white, a bright yellow plaque on the wall caught Stan’s attention.  He came to a stop in front of it.  Luckily, Ford noticed before he had walked very far.

              “Stan, we have to move,” Ford hissed, backtracking to where Stan stood.  Stan gestured at the plaque.

              “Apparently, this place has an actual name,” Stan said quietly.  The plaque proudly listed the names of donors that paid to construct the new headquarters of the Cipher Paranormal Studies Corporation.

              “I’m not surprised,” Ford whispered.

              “We were never told the name.  That’s a dick move.”

              “Stan.”

              “You’re right, this is the least dickish thing they’ve done.  But I still feel like we shoulda been told the name of the place we grew up in.”

              “Stan, we need to move fast.  We don’t want Fiddleford’s distraction to go to waste,” Ford insisted.  Stan nodded. He followed Ford away from the plaque, but glanced back at it briefly, a strange feeling in his chest.  Almost like his dampened clairvoyance was trying to tell him something.

-----

              “Here,” Ford whispered, coming to a stop in front of a closed door.  A sign on the door read “Subject Incubators”.

              “Damn, that’s a creepy way to say nursery,” Stan muttered.  He pushed open the door.  Like everywhere else in the facility, the room was bright white.  The furniture was the same color, including two cribs tucked against the back wall.  “There!” The brothers rushed over to the cribs. Stan’s heart sunk.  Only one crib had a child in it.

              “This must be Mabel,” Ford said, gently lifting the baby and nestling her in his arms.  Mabel giggled loudly.

              “But where’s-” Stan started.  The door opened behind them.  They spun around.  Two employees stood in the doorway, one carrying an infant.

              “Who are you?!” one of the employees snapped. In lieu of a response, Stan bolted across the room, tackling the employee who wasn’t carrying a baby before they could raise the alarm.  He kicked the door shut.  A jolt of pain accompanied the movement, making him gasp.

              Fucking hell.  My age is catching up to me.  The employee he’d tackled quickly recovered, shoving Stan off.

              “They said nanny duty was easy,” the employee spat.

              “Well, whoever told you that was lying,” Stan retorted, grabbing the front of the nanny’s uniform and pulling them in.  He then grabbed the nightstick attached to his hip as part of the uniform and whacked the nanny over the head with it. The nanny dropped to the floor, unconscious.  Stan got to his feet, prepared to attack the second nanny.  Instead, he saw Ford holding both babies and standing over the second nanny’s unconscious body.  “Huh.”

              “Please take one of the infants,” Ford said, panting. Stan took Mason from him.  “Thank you.”

              “Good work, Ford.”

              “Save the praise for after we’ve left the building,” Ford said.

              “Fair enough.”  Stan opened the door.  He caught sight of movement at the far end of the hall.  “Shit, more nannies are headed this way.  We gotta go.”  Stan and Ford sprinted out of the room, running until they had left the nursery far behind.  They came to a stop, breathing hard.  “Okay.” Stan gently cradled Mason in his arms, muscle memory from Wendy kicking in.  “We got the babies.  We got away from those evil nannies.  Now what?”

              “You’re the clairvoyant,” Ford snapped, holding Mabel close to his chest.

              “I can’t really do the clairvoyance thing if they’ve got power dampeners going,” Stan snapped back.

              “Fine, fine.”  Ford looked around.  “Should we go the way we came?”

              “Wh- you’re the one with the map!”

              “…I dropped it,” Ford mumbled.

              “You dropped it?!”

              “It was either the map or Mabel.  I chose to drop a piece of paper over our infant relative,” Ford said snidely.  Stan rolled his eyes.  “You helped to draw the map.  Do you remember anything from it?”

              “Not really, no.”  Stan looked up and down the hall, yearning for the familiar sense of churning in his guts to guide him.  “Maybe…that way?”  He turned left, going up the hall.  Ford followed.  “If the power dampeners weren’t up, this’d be a piece of cake.”

              “We might rely upon our powers too much,” Ford said quietly.

              “You might be right about…that…”  Stan trailed off.  They had reached a dead end.  A single, open door was in front of them.  Through that door, something was glowing.

              “What is that?” Ford asked.  He walked into the room.

              “Stanford, we’ve gotta get these kids outta here!  We can’t waste time trying to figure out whatever bullshit the company is doing now!” Stan hissed.

              “Oh, my god,” Ford whispered.  Stifling a groan, Stan entered the room.  His jaw dropped.  The room was massive.

              Well, it’s gotta be, to have room for…that. There was an enormous structure in the middle of the room, an upside-down metal triangle.  A circle was cut out of the center of the triangle, bordered by strange symbols.  Two metal circular platforms stood in front of the triangle.  An identical pair stuck to the ceiling like stalactites.  The platforms glowed a faint blue, as did lines of lights along the edges of the triangle.

              “What is that?” Stan asked.

              “My ride out of here,” a voice boomed.  The door slammed shut.  Stan and Ford spun around.  They were still alone.  “And you boys, as well as the other members of your deliciously powerful family, are my ticket.”

              “Okay, first, it’s gross as hell to call babies ‘delicious’,” Stan said.  “Second, who the fuck are you?”

              “I’ve had many names,” the voice said vaguely. Ford elbowed Stan.  When Stan looked, Ford pointed at a loudspeaker on the wall, from which the voice was coming.  Stan nodded.  “But the one you’ll recognize is Cipher.”  Stan’s blood ran cold.

              Cipher.  Cipher Corp.  The company’s real name.

              “Cipher,” Ford said.

              “That’s right!” Cipher said cheerfully.

              “Are you the boss of this whole fucked up shindig?” Stan asked.

              “Obviously,” Cipher scoffed.  “I have to admit, it was a delight to watch you grow up.”  The ice in Stan’s veins was promptly replaced with fury.

              “You stole us from our family!” he snarled. Cipher sighed.

              “I took you in,” he said, sounding disappointed in Stan.  “Your parents didn’t want you.  They didn’t want either of you.”

              “You-” Stan started.  Ford put a hand on his shoulder.

              “Cipher, what do you want with us?” he asked.

              “I already told you.  You’re part of my triumphant return home.  You, your twin, those darling children you’re holding, and even that young lady you think of as your sister are part of this.”  Stan heard a hitch in Ford’s breath.

              “Leave the kid alone,” he snapped.  “She’s been through enough!”

              “I’m not sure that she has,” Cipher said. Stan opened his mouth to shoot a retort, but before he could, there was a loud explosion.  Ford stumbled back a few steps, nearly falling.  The loudspeaker crackled.  Stan knew what had happened.  He knew.

              “Cipher’s gone,” Stan said confidently.  Ford looked at him.  “He probably went to find out what happened to knock out the power dampeners.  Now, let’s get the hell outta here before he comes back.”

              “We don’t have the map.”

              “We don’t need one now.”  Stan furrowed his brow, focusing as hard as possible on what route they should take to get out.  “The shortest route has a bunch of guards.  Looks like you’ll get plenty of chances to practice that telepathic attack of yours.”

              “At this point, I’ll take anything over more physical exertion,” Ford muttered.  “Lead the way.”

-----

              Exhausted and sweaty, but still alive, Stan and Ford finally arrived at the clearing Dan was waiting in.  Fiddleford was already there, pacing back and forth anxiously.

              “We’re here,” Stan croaked, removing his mask. Ford removed his as well. Fiddleford and Dan’s heads shot up.

              “Oh, thank the Lord,” Fiddleford said, resting a hand over his heart.  “I was startin’ to get mighty worried.  Did the distraction help ya or was it too late?”

              “It was perfectly timed,” Ford said.  He and Stan walked over to the truck. Fiddleford sighed in relief.

              “Good.  I had some issues tryin’ to decide how to set up the distraction.”

              “It worked out great,” Stan said.  Fiddleford grimaced.

              “Not really.”

              “What do you mean?”

              “He DROPPED the doohickey he made with my WIFE’S magic,” Dan rumbled.  Fiddleford glared at Dan.

              “I told ya, that ain’t how the lil tie I made works!”  He looked back at Stan and Ford.  “But…yes, I did drop it in the chaos.  Ya don’t think that’ll be a problem later on, will it?”

              “Of course it’s gonna be a fucking problem!” Stan burst out.  “You just handed over the kid’s powers to the company!”  Fiddleford quailed.  Ford put a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

              “Stanley.  It’s okay. That’s something we can deal with at a later point.  Right now, we need to be glad that everyone got out unharmed.”

              “Yes, how are the lil ones?” Fiddleford asked.

              “Surprisingly quiet,” Ford said.  Mason abruptly began to fuss in Stan’s arms.  “Never mind.”

              “They had power dampeners on for these little gremlins,” Stan said quietly.  Fiddleford cocked his head.

              “Well, ain’t that just their policy?”

              “Not for babies.  They put in the power dampeners when they decide that someone’s ESP is getting strong enough to cause problems,” Stan explained.  “Your sister only got power dampeners when she was a toddler, and you know how powerful she is.”

              “So these lil sweeties ‘re goin’ to have some strong ESP,” Fiddleford remarked, peering at Mason and Mabel.

              “That would be the logical conclusion, yes,” Ford said.  Fiddleford grimaced.  “We can finish this conversation at Dan’s place, I think.”

              “Yeah,” Stan said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the company decided to start combing the woods looking for us.”  He felt a nudge at the back of his mind and let the knowledge wash over him.  “Yep. They’re already coming.  Let’s get outta here.”  Dan got into the truck.

              “Took the WORDS out of my MOUTH.”

-----

              Shermie and Wendy cooed over Mason and Mabel, who were buckled into carriers, ready to be brought home to California.

              “They’re so little!” Wendy gushed.  Shermie smiled at her.

              “Yes, dear, they’re newborns.  When your younger brother is born, he’ll be as small as them.”  Wendy’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

              “Whoa,” she whispered.  Shermie chuckled.

              “Hey, uh, Sherm, can we talk to you in private?” Stan asked.

              “Sure,” Shermie said.  “Fiddleford, Dan, mind keeping an eye on the babies?”

              “No problem,” Fiddleford chirped.  Dan nodded.  Shermie followed Stan and Ford outside.

              “What’s going on?” Shermie asked.  Stan crossed his arms.  He looked at Ford, waiting for him to start the conversation.  Ford sighed.

              “The company already installed and turned on power dampeners for Mason and Mabel,” he said.  “Power dampeners are expensive to maintain, so they’re only turned on when necessary.  The fact that they’d already turned them on with Mason and Mabel being so young…” Shermie paled.

              “They’re going to be particularly powerful, aren’t they?” he whispered.  Stan and Ford nodded.  “Oh, no.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’ll- I’ll have to warn my son and daughter-in-law.  But even with the warning, I don’t know how well they’ll be able to handle it.”

              “I’m going to go to California,” Stan said. Shermie stared at him.  “Ford and I realized that one of us should stick near you and the kids, to keep an eye on them, and we decided that I would.  I don’t really have much of an attachment to any particular place.  Not to mention, I can see danger coming from a mile away.”

              “Stan, that would be fantastic,” Shermie said, audibly relieved.  Stan shrugged.

              “It’s important to look out for family.”  He smiled.  “Even if you’ve only just met them.”  Shermie smiled back.

              “Still.  Thank you.” He glanced back at the cabin. “What about Wendy and her mother? They could probably use some protection. I know that Dan is rather formidable, but…”

              “I’ll be staying in Gravity Falls,” Ford interjected. “Stan and I saw something in the company’s facility that concerned us, so I won’t just be staying to keep an eye on Wendy and the kid, but also to find out what I can about what we saw.”

              “What did you see?” Shermie whispered.  Ford shook his head.

              “I honestly don’t know.  But it can’t be good.”

              “If I get any bad vibes or if Ford or the kid give me a call, I’ll head up to help out,” Stan said.  He grinned at Ford.  “But Ford proved he can hold his own today, so I think I can leave him here without too many problems.”  The door to the cabin opened.  Wendy sprinted out.  She tugged on Shermie’s pant leg.  Shermie looked down at her.

              “Yes, dear?” he asked.

              “Mr. Shermie, the babies laughed!” she enthused. Shermie’s eyes widened.

              “Well, that sounds like something I should be there for!”  He looked at Stan and Ford.  “Are you going to come inside as well?”

              “In a moment,” Ford said.  “Stan and I need to have a quick conversation.”  Stan nodded.

              “All right,” Shermie said mildly.  He took Wendy’s hand and went inside with her. Stan and Ford looked at each other.

              “Do you really feel comfortable being on your own in California with Shermie, Mason, and Mabel?” Ford asked quietly.

              “I’ll figure it out.  I don’t foresee any big problems,” Stan said.  Ford sighed.

              “Still.”

              “What about you?” Stan asked.  “Are you sure you can handle the kid and Wendy and the company?”  He scowled. “Or, I guess, the Cipher Corporation?”

              “I’ll be fine.  Like you said, the second there’s any issues, I’ll contact you for help,” Ford said smoothly.  Stan felt a nudge at the back of his mind.  When the information came, it made him raise an eyebrow in surprise.  “What?”

              “This town has more secrets than just the company. You better be careful.”

              “I will,” Ford promised.  Stan snorted.  He turned around to head back inside.

              “Ford, I don’t need clairvoyance to know that you just lied through your teeth.”

[hisirdoux-ambrosius]

Krel Tarron- Friends

TOA fic (or drabble, whatever you want) about Krel maybe getting some actual bonding time w the gang (esp. jlaire) post-wizards? Or the Trollhunting trio just vibing w video games or smth? (No pressure :) @cassie-cain-wayne

A/N: Thank you for being so patient with me! 

Krel watched the kids walking around school in packs, as if they were wolves. The weakest were left behind or killed and outsiders would certainly befall a worse fate. Maybe they were wolves. He surely felt like an outsider.

Since Aja left, the summer had moved slowly even with the wizard interrupting the repair work he’d needed done on one of the Blanks. It had been a reprieve from the boredom but he hadn’t felt any closer to the oddballs of Arcadia even though they seemed to band together.

Eli tried even if Krel couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the boy every ten seconds. There was something about his mannerisms that Krel couldn’t handle. They were all so terribly...organic. He supposed it was hard to befriend someone so bland, he’d never felt he had much to offer.

The Domzalski boy seemed to find something interesting in him but Jim was back home, having been cured from being part troll. Matter of the fact was, if Krel wasn’t needed to help save anyone or make a new game for the bored teens, he wasn’t called upon. 

Steve, ugh gag, checked in but only with questions of Aja. Krel adored Aja as everyone else did. She was a warrior yet empathetic beyond many beings- human or otherwise- capability. She was proud to be herself no matter what and you couldn’t help but be drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Or like Luug to the cookies Lucy Blank made each and every evening. 

Yes, he did adore his sister but he had also lived in her shadow and grown wary beyond his age from her mistakes back on Akiridion-5. Krel couldn’t blame her but he had never had the sense of freedom she had grabbed hold of and claimed was her right. 

He was too complacent even before coming to Earth and now he understood it was because he needed to be needed. And it seemed more often than not, he wasn’t needed. 

Sighing, he placed his headphones over his ears, tapped his foot to the lively beat, and worried no more. 

--

“Hey buttsnack, can’t leave your girlfriend’s side? My girlfriend is a total ninja-kicking angel and-” Steve rambled on and no one, save for Eli, was listening. Claire rolled her eyes and cracked a smile when Jim looked down at her and did the same. 

“I’m siding with Steve on this one Jimbo, help me find Arrgh more socks,” Toby chimed in and there was a grateful, deep, hum from the large troll that had crowded into Nancy Domzalski’s home along with Blinky who was sat beside Claire once Jim finally got up with a sigh and a fond grin. 

Everyone was enjoying the music, the snacks, the company when suddenly Nana hollered, “Oh Toby-Pie!” in a pitched tone that made the newest cat in the house want to run towards Arrgh despite the consequences. 

“NANA,” Toby groaned, embarrassed as always when she called him that. He was a soldier, a wicked sidekick (he thought he was quite the hero but he’d have to run it by Jim). “Not around my friends” He pleaded as he went to see her in the kitchen. 

Their voices were quiet outside of some murmurs that couldn’t be made out over Eli’s laughter that played like a broken record at all of Steve’s spent and silly jokes. Jim had gone back to sitting with Claire and both had taken to throwing popcorn at Steve, wondering how many their could get caught in his hair before he noticed. So far they’d each gotten three. 

Toby emerged from the kitchen with a sheepish look and turned the music down. “Nana is bringing over her b-boyfriend. You guys cool if Krel comes too?” Toby had to stop himself from gagging over the words but perked up at the thought of his friend.

Everyone took on a similar expression of barely hidden guilt except for Steve who was pounding on Nana’s piano, singing of the blue love of his life. Everyone liked Krel, it just hadn’t occured to them that something was missing, the he was missing. 

“Of course!” Claire interjected, hoping the enthusiasm would make up for the heavy silence that had only lasted a short few seconds but seemed to linger in the air. “I have to ask him if he can help tutor me for my next math test,” 

 --

The call came as Krel was drifting in and out of sleep, some laid back music pressed tight against his ears so that he could shut out the sound of Ricky vacuuming and Luug trying to eat the machine. Suddenly, his phone was vibrating in his pocket and he nearly dropped the portable tech once he saw his friend’s face on the screen. 

“I can’t help you hack into NASA Eli until you give me a good reason,” He immediately replied but his hello to the Pepperjack was drowned out by a chorus of ‘hellos’ and ‘did he pick up?’. 

“Krel! Come to Toby’s, we’re gonna watch the movie we made now that we’ve gotten all the footage back,” Eli croaked through the speaker and Krel grinned. Finally! He was invited to be somewhere! And better yet he could shine through the movie! Call him vain but Krel had lived too long in a shadow to not delight in the spotlight sometimes. 

“Be right over!” Krel beamed, shouting a goodbye to the Blanks before running to Toby’s. 

Krel could feel lost, Krel could feel lonely, but right now he was only feeling grateful. When everyone smiled and welcomed him in with open arms he knew he had made the right decision in calling Earth his home. 

[loubells]

Happy New Year!

I just want to thank everyone who follows and interacts with me or even reads the fics I post. I appreciate you all. I never expected to start writing until I met Shae and she encouraged me too.

Onto the part where I give love to my moots and close friends, this is going to be sappy.

To @chibishae34 : Words cannot express how happy I am to call you one of my best friends. I am thankful I found your fic and that we became friends from there. I am thankful I shared my idea for Nekoma Clowder with you and that you encouraged me to write it. I love you so much it’s unreal. You were one of my first moots from the haikyuu fandom and I am so grateful to you. I hope I can come see you and Jenna soon and hang out with you guys. I know you want to see snow again but I will be honest, it doesn’t snow that much here like it does back where my parents live. Thank you for letting me just ramble even if you don’t respond all the time, I truthfully don’t mind.

To @bbymilkbread : Eve! My crazy other half in our group. I am appreciative of you even if you hate fluffy shit. I am glad you found Make Your Move and became one of it’s first readers. I also love how you decided that even though I was a fluffy person, that you were going to make our friendship a thing. I love how you just rant to me about your psychos and recommend me things to read. I cannot wait to hopefully one day meet you and cause chaos for Shae to deal with. You’re one of my favorite people for sure. Love you whore

to @kenmasgameboy : Jenna, I am glad I met you through the discord and through Shae, you have become important to me in so little time. Even if you and Eve manage to push my buttons a lot of the time, I am so so so glad to know you and be friends with you. I need to come see you and Shae hopefully this year, and eventually all of us will hang out with Eve as well. Ruin Me is absolutely wonderful and I am happy I decided to binge read it and catch up.

To @vhskenma : Seq! I love you so much my baby sister. You are amazing and wonderful and deserve so much love. I know I don’t always respond but never-the-less, I love you anyways. I hope we get close in 2021, and that you get lots of love from Akaashi and your other favs.

To The rest of the HQ Writers disc: I love you all so much it’s unreal. Jackbox was so fun, and @atsumusc0ck and I bonded over dumb shit and it was beautiful. You guys are all wonderful and it lead me to getting to know you guys better, here’s to more game nights and random bullshit. @not-to-be-gay-but-holy-shit @simping-for-tendou @miyaniacs @tendouthighs @kodzukenscorner @boosyboo9206

To @rintarhoes (and Toffee of course): Violet, I love you so much and I am glad I got to be a moot of yours and Toffees as well (We do be missin Toffee). You are an absolutely amazing writer and I don’t remember how I found you both but I am glad I did. You are both amazing and even though I am not as huge of a Suna simp as you are, I still love everyone in the SUNA SUPREMACY discord. You are an amazing person and I cannot wait to see more of your writing this upcoming year. Please tell Toffee I love and miss her! 

To @oikaw-ugh : Leia! You’re wonderful and your SMAU’s have been amazing. I know you have been working on a lot more tagalong works and I still love seeing them on my dash even if I understand none of it. You’re wonderful and amazing and so fun to interact with and talk too. Here’s to hopefully more conversations in 2021 and more random moments. Even if we don’t always respond to each other, I am grateful for our talks.

To @sophieshortcake : I adore you, you are SO sweet and so kind. I love interacting with you and even your character anons (Esp Oikawa, he’s my favorite). I’m happy I found Play Date and was able to become friends with you after reading it. You are a great writer and I adore all of it so much, from your headcannons, to your oneshots, to drabbles. All of it. I hope 2021 is wonderful for you and that you get lots of Tsukishima kisses and love.

To @undermattsun : I know we aren’t super close Miki, but I can 100% say I am glad to know you now. Especially since you made me adore the hq!skate rats. I love sending you daily love, and I love seeing your bullshit appear on my feed. Sometimes it makes me smile or I just sigh deeply. I know you say whorehouse will make me have a foot fetish but I do not see that happening (if it does you would be the first to know). I hope I get to know you more this year.

To @haikyuuwaifu : Short and simple, I love you, your writing, and your discord. All of your writings are amazing and the fact you do all of this and are an outstanding mama? Absolutely fantastic. I look forward to more of your ideas even if they sometimes end up breaking my heart.

To @kageyuji : I don’t think we are truly moots Corey but! You deserve a spot here, I adore your fics/headcannons/oneshots that you write. They are all fantastic and I just want to say your writing is absolutely amazing. I cannot wait to see more of what comes from your brain this year and hopefully we interact more (If I stop being lazy honestly).

To @dinablossom : Dina! You absolute ray of sunshine! I adore you so much, I know you adored my Suna fic, and I hope you feel the same for the current Atsumu one. I love your artwork so much, I try and reblog it when I see it, because my gosh more people need to see it. Keep being a ray of sunshine and being wonderful.

To my other moots I am not as close with: I still love you all, you’re all wonderful and I am grateful for you all. Here is to 2021 and hopefully a better year with more writing/drawing and other things.

[consumedkings-archive]

“Why do you always call me when I’m on a date?” + misolde xoxo

hi dove ily  ♥(ꈍᴗꈍ) dragged meself out of my writing slump to churn out this misolde content so THANK you for that!!! and esp thank you for letting me  borrow your boy for my own purposes (i.e., giving isolde the happy ending she deserves)

i. dreaming of you ✤ michael hughes x isolde khan

words: 3.6k

prompt:  “why do you always call me when i’m on a date?” taken from this list!

rating: mature, nothing explicit but you know. they’re themselves.

warnings: isolde is a brat, michael makes a cougar pun, most of the fic is via phone call. i don’t think there’s any warnings other than that and the very brief mention of isolde’s ex-husband stalking her, sort of tangentially. ik this is from the “friends or more” prompt list but i made this a “lovers to friends reluctantly and back to lovers again” happy ending because i’m sexy and deserve it

“Well, well, well. What could the Girl Who Has Everything be calling me for at 9 PM on a Friday night?”

Mike sounds more amused than irritated, which is a pretty good sign. Even if there’s a hint of irritation there in his voice—a tiny little pinprick of it sitting just there, under the surface—that he picked up on the second ring tells her he’s not as mad as he could be.

“Don’t be mean,” Isolde replies, feeling her lower lip push out a little. “I need your help.”

He scoffs, but the sound is begrudgingly playful. “And what is it that you need my help with?”

It’s fair for Michael to sound so skeptical. She hates asking for help if she actually needs it, hates the feeling of having to rely on another human being because she just can’t push herself enough past the limit to get the thing done—even if it’s not really about not pushing herself enough, and more about knowing her limits.

Luckily, she’s not asking for help she actually needs.

“My new fire pit came,” she replies innocently. “It’s too heavy for me to get it off the porch.”

“Why aren’t you askin’ John to help you, doll?”

“What, the man who’s got the upper body strength of a flightless bird? Don’t jest with me, Michael.”

He sighs. The sounds of bar chatter echo behind him, pretty and tinny, like a wind chime. Someone laughs, and Michael breathes out through his nose; she bets that he’s smiling ruefully, mouthing an apology to whoever it is that’s sitting at the table with him.

“Why do you always call me when I’m on a date?” he asks dryly, and Isolde inspects her manicure idly, balancing the phone between her shoulder and cheek.

She says, feigning complete surprise, “Oh, are you?”

“Sol.”

“I’m not privy to your agenda, darling, I couldn’t possibly know you’re on a date.” Isolde makes a thoughtful noise. “Perhaps this is a reflection on your dating habits rather than my phone call schedule.”

“Uh-huh.”

Another moment of silence elapses before Isolde prompts, “Anyway, are you free after your date?”

Michael barks out a little laugh, almost incredulous. “No, I will not be free after my date.”

“Hm,” Isolde says.

“What could you possibly be ‘hm’ing about over there, huh? I’ll remind you, Lady Isolde, that you ended things with me, you know. Not like it matters, but that means I’m not at your beck and call all the time.”

Fair, Isolde thinks, but won’t say, because she’s too proud to. She sighs; leans against the counter, twisting the wine glass around at the base, watching the dark red liquid inside of it shifting.

“It’s nothing,” she replies after a moment.

“Yeah? Nothin’, huh?”

“Nothing.”

“Alright, Sol, well if it’s ‘nothin’ that’s on your mind—”

“I just think it’s funny how—”

As soon as she starts, Michael groans, and she makes a disgruntled noise—indignant, insulted that he’d have the audacity to think of her as anything other than charming.

“What?” she demands.

“It just doesn’t stop with you.”

“Big words coming from the man who’s never fully grasped the concept of shutting up,” she huffs. “And I was going to say that I just think it’s funny that you’re on a date with another woman and you still picked up my call.”

“Mm-hm.” He sounds less pleased, now. Like she's hit the exact nerve that he doesn't want her to, and like he knows her well enough to anticipate she won't let it go.

Because she won’t. “On the second ring.”

Michael clears his throat. “Sure did.”

“Second ring,” Isolde continues serenely, “means you didn’t even think about it, just picked up on instinct.”

“You ever considered pickin’ up car sales?”

It’s her turn to laugh now, and normally she’d be offended by something like that but it’s different coming out of Mike’s mouth. Somehow, his voice still blooms with a warmth that’s reminiscent of how he’d spoken to her before—the way he’d spoken to her before. Warmly. Affectionately. My girl, he used to say, hands on her hips and his nose brushing hers. That’s what you are. My girl.

And maybe she did happen to know, by pure chance and thanks to John’s gloating, that he was on a date this evening, but this is all pure happenstance and nothing more.

On the other end of the phone, Michael says something muffled—he’s probably covering the phone to mute his voice—and the sound of fabric rustling echoes on the call before she hears the sound of a door closing and Michael says, “You really callin’ just to get my help with a fire pit?”

“Well,” Isolde demurs. She then refuses to elaborate.

“Well, what?”

“Why’d you pick up my call?”

He puffs out a breath. “Isolde—”

“It’s an easy question, you know.” She pauses, the silence filtering between them for a second, welling with unanswered questions and unfinished sentences.

Michael says, “You know why.”

Isolde hums, pushes herself to a stand and walks out to the front porch of the house to sit herself down on the box containing the offending fire pit. From here, she can see the ranch—the lights glittering inside of it, John probably delighted to know that Mike’s moving on to another date and another love, or something like that, while she’s...Well, not.

It’s not like it had ever been about that, anyway, the break-up. Or break. Whatever it was. It had only ever been about—

Panic, something inside of her says. Panic that something is too good.

—time, and not having enough of it, and not being able to give him what he deserves out of a partner.

Mike asks, “What are you doing?”

“Drinking wine,” she replies blithely, “sitting on this gigantic box, looking up at John’s house and wondering how happy he is that he was right about us.”

“I meant calling me. And—don’t say that shit, makes me wanna puke.”

She laughs and takes a drink of the wine. “Then come over here and prove him wrong.”

“Soli,” he says, his voice pitching lower now when the rare pet name comes out of his mouth, “don’t play with me.”

“I’m not. You think I really called you because I want to set up a fire pit on a Friday night?” She’s emboldened—made brave by the wine in her body and the distance her phone gives her, so she doesn’t have to look him in the eye when she says she had been wrong and stupid and maybe a little more than scared.

And then she says, impulsively, “I miss you, Mikey,” and he groans, the dull sound of what she can only assume is the back of his head hitting the door echoing on the phone call. Her mouth twists; she thinks, just say it, don’t be an idiot and just say that you want him back. The voice in her head, ever reasonable, sounds oddly like Avery's voice, scolding her because even her baby sister can see that she's suffering needlessly and for nobody's benefit.

You don't do anyone any favors, being alone, Avery always says, chiding. Not someone else and not yourself.

But alone is safe. Alone is quiet, and safe, and alone has no expectations to be missed, and alone doesn't ask why a new unregistered number shows up on your phone every week like clockwork, and alone doesn't notice that you're not really built for life in some podunk Montana town where you have one friend, so what are you hiding, Soli? What are you running from?

"...all night?"

Mike's voice drags her out of her thoughts, abruptly dunking her back in reality. It's unlike her to keep conversation hanging, and it takes her a second to realize he's been talking to her.

"Sorry," she says, "I was thinking. What did you say?"

He's quiet for a minute on the other end, before he asks curiously and without needling judgment, "How far are you into that wine, doll?"

"Enough," Isolde replies, warm to her fingertips every time he uses that pet name, "to not feel guilty about calling you."

"Because you knew I was on a date."

"Of course I did, Michael."

He couldn't sound more pleased when he says, "Well, you know I'm not the braggin' type, but—"

The comforting chatter of his voice on the other end of the call cuts off; she hears him exhale a breath, long-suffering and miserable, and he says, "Well, shit."

"What?"

"Date got up and left."

Isolde clicks her tongue, swallowing another mouthful of wine in a way that is decidedly unlike her; she doesn't typically like alcohol that you can gulp, like an animal, but maybe she's feeling a bit unlike herself this evening. After all, Isolde Proper wouldn't have been calling Michael Hughes at all.

"My condolences," she says, very seriously and around the bitter tannins of the wine on her tongue. "Maybe you can still catch her."

"You don't want me to do that."

"There are plenty of things I do and don't want, my darling, and for some reason the world insists on operating as though I am not the sun it orbits. It's very rude, if I'm being honest, because I do work so hard to be—"

"Soli," Mike interrupts, "did you mean it?"

Isolde shifts, coming to a stand and brushing the dust off of her. "Mean what?"

Another pause. It's uncharacteristic of him. "That you missed me."

Oh, she thinks, because now she's really mucked the whole thing up—now, Michael's gotten a taste of her pure, unadulterated honesty, and she's got to maintain it. Painful, excruciating thing, honesty; the wine went to her head and now she’s reaping the consequences of her bravery, her childish impulses. Her jealousy.

Isolde bends down, reaching for her wine. "Well, of course I did," is what she says, the words sharp as glass on their way out of her mouth, punishing her for having ever pushed him away in the first place. "I never say anything I don't mean."

He chuffs out an indignant sound. "You told me that you'd never be able to make it work here—and by proxy, with me."

"I thought—" It's her turn to sigh now. "I lack—with other people, I mean—well, you see, Michael, it's about longevity and if you look at it, really, through the—but the point is I don't want to look at the longevity of it, I want—"

Her fingers tip the wine glass over and it shatters, ringing in her wine-dulled head. She closes her eyes and sighs. Things are devolving quickly, and they shouldn’t be. She’s not the type to let things devolve.

"You didn't have to throw your glass, coulda just said."

"I knocked it over, I did not throw it. Michael."

"You’re getting bratty,” he muses, like this is useful information to him. “Get inside. You'll walk all over it. I'll be there in ten."

She pauses, mouth twisting. She feels like a child, like maybe he's coming not because he's realized she actually wants to be with him but because he's worried about her; Isolde is breaking glasses and tuning out of conversations and maybe that's a red flag and he just wants her to be okay.

"I don't think that's wise," is what she ventures after a moment, because she doesn't want to be pitied, she would rather be—

Mike breathes out, once, sharp and hard and she thinks she can hear him do that thing where he sucks his teeth and scuffs the ground with his shoe; if she really thinks about it, she can probably picture the irritation blooming across his face, too. "God damn it, Isolde, just tell me what you want. You want me to stay away? I do it. You want to come over? I will. I'm the idiot you tell to jump and I ask how high. Just tell me what it is, and I'll—fuckin' do it, if you'd just stop this runaround and—"

"I want you, you idiot," she snaps, his words rattling around in her head over and over. The call has gone quiet, now; wretchedly quiet for a man like Michael who doesn't stop talking. It feels deafening. Isolde swallows thickly and wishes she'd just opened another bottle instead of engaging in this song and dance she is woefully unprepared for. "I want—you, and I'm so—"

He clears his throat. Something about the gesture softens him, but she’s already spiraling. He says, "Sol."

"—stupid," she finishes miserably. "I don't know what it is to be happy anymore, and so when it happens I panic, and—Michael, I don't know how to take them back, the things I said. I wish hadn't said them, but I did, and now they're just there and I don't know how to take them back and there's all this bloody—all this fucking glass on my porch!"

"Alright, princess, take a breath."

Isolde does, despite her petulance insisting she does the opposite of what he tells her to.

"You yellin' all that on your porch?"

"Yes," she mutters crossly, grateful that they're glossing over the topic at hand but less grateful of being reminded of her outburst.

"So then John probably heard. Good." Mike's voice is dry, and a little tight, like he's pacing himself on something. "You got any more wine?"

Isolde looks sourly at the broken glass, and repeats, "Yes."

"Save me at least a glass," he replies, "and I'll be there in ten."

Having apparently learned his lesson the first time, Michael hangs up before she can get the chance to wax and wane about whether or not this is a good decision. The problem is that she thinks that it is—or that she thinks Michael is, anyway. Good. So fucking good. And maybe that means he's too good for her, and maybe he'll be miserable when he realizes that, and it's always so much better to do the leaving than to get left, isn't it?

She stands there for about two more minutes before she begrudgingly decides to sweep the glass off of her porch, gathering it up into the dustpan and dumping it. By the time she's done that, gone inside, gotten a fresh glass and poured it half-full, Isolde can hear the crunch of gravel outside beneath rubber. There's the familiar cadence of his steps coming up to the front door, the swing of it clicking open, and she thinks, great, now all I have to do is tell him I was an idiot and I'm sorry he drove all the way out here, but—

Isolde's turned halfway around, mouth open and ready to launch into a speech when Michael takes her face and kisses her.

It's not kind, not really. It tastes a little like whiskey and the wine still on her tongue and it bites a little, and Mike's hands are cold where they're cupping her face but she doesn't have much time to think about it because they drop; they grip her hips and hoist her up on the counter with familiar, confident ease, wine spilling out of her glass.

"Michael," she starts, one arm looped around his neck from the sudden change in altitude, "you spilled—"

He takes the wine glass from her and sets it aside so that he can sidle between her legs and kiss her again. Isolde's about halfway through her protest when their mouths meet; his teeth catch her lower lip playfully, fingers sliding beneath the hem of the Hope County Cougars shirt he'd bought her for her birthday.

"What," he manages out, pulling back to look at her in the shirt that is a direct and painful contrast in quality to the silky black pajama shorts, too short to be appropriate to wear outside of the house, they cover, "in Hell's name are you wearing this for?"

She tilts her head back to look at him, a little breathless and dazed. "What?"

"This shirt," Mike insists, tugging on it. "What is it doing on your body?"

"It's—" She blinks. "You got this for me. On my birthday."

"I remember." His smile is close-lipped, like he's trying very hard not to smile too big. "It's just—"

Michael stops. He looks to be on the verge of letting her know some grave secret, some piece of information she's been lacking this whole time.

"It's what, Michael? It's—homely but cute? A display of my incredible merit to wear such a piece as it was gifted to me by my handsome…" Her voice trails off, because she's not sure what to call him, and she plunges on, "A testament to man's hubris but also: his inability to take no for answer despite how many times God may have tried to strike him down for creating such an abhorrent piece of clothing?"

He kisses her again, long and hard and open-mouthed, and pulls her close by her hips until she's looped her arms over his shoulders and tangled her fingers into his hair. It promptly sweeps her brain clear of all thoughts of lovingly insulting the t-shirt he’d gifted to her.

"It's just," Michael says, against her mouth now, "that it looks so good on you, doll."

"That is not what you were going to say."

"Bet it looks better off," he adds, "on the floor. Could throw it on the deck for a little extra flavor."

She rolls her eyes. "You mean for extra flavor to piss John off."

"That’s not fair. I like to take your clothes off for more than pissing John off.”

The brunette pulls back to look at her now, eyes sweeping her face for a moment. Her chest feels tight—always does, when he fixes those green eyes on her, like it’s so easy for him to look right past her face and right into her brain.

“Hate that,” she murmurs, twisting a lock of his hair around her finger. “Hate when you look at me like that.”

“Like what, Soli?”

“Like you see me.”

Michael’s nose brushes the slope of her jaw. “I do.” And then, thoughtfully: “But you gotta stop throwing tantrums when I’m on a date. Just tell me you want me.”

Her mouth presses into a thin line. “I did.”

“Post-tantrum.”

“Well.” He’s not wrong, and she huffs, scrambling to dig through the trainwreck of her brain to come up with a better comeback than that; none come to mind right away, and Michael takes the opportunity of her silence to lean back a little further, head tilting to meet her gaze while his hand sweeps the length of her calf.

He says, “You scared my date off, you know.” When Isolde goes mmm in a sound that is decidedly unapologetic, Michael continues, “And this shirt wasn’t your real birthday gift.”

Sol squints at him. “What do you mean?”

“Obviously the very nice bottle of wine and the necklace were your actual birthday present,” he explains playfully, pulling at the shirt’s hem again. “This was just a fun thing. You know. Hope County Cougars shirt for my Hope County Cougar—”

“I should throttle you with it.” Her mouth downturns in a frown. “No wonder John looks like the fucking Cheshire Cat when I wear it around the house.”

A laugh billows out of him, easy as ever, and he gives her knee a squeeze. “Come on, then.”

“‘Come on then’ what?”

“Say it,” he coaxes, eyes narrowing playfully. “You scared off my date. Got me over here. Tell me you want me, Soli—in person, to my face.”

And I’m yours, is what he means, but he doesn’t say it and he doesn’t have to. 

She exhales a little sigh, swallowing thickly. It should be easy; she’s never had a hard time saying what it is she wants, but she’s never wanted something she felt so unworthy of.

“I do,” she says after a moment, “want you, Michael. I shouldn’t have—before, I mean—”

“Only needed the first half, doll,” Mike interjects, not unkindly. “No use digging through the whole thing. Not right now, anyway.” He pauses, and then hooks his arms around her, scooping her from the counter and up into his arms. That easily, he sweeps away the anxiety of having to admit that she was scared—not right now, he says, which means that he’ll want to hear it later but for now he’s content to hold and kiss her.

It’s the front porch he’s headed for, not the bedroom like he should be, and Isolde says, “Where on earth are you taking me?”

“Gotta make sure John knows we’re back together,” he replies cheerfully, nudging the door open with his foot. “How big’s that box? Big enough to sit you on, maybe both of us?”

Isolde feels a laugh bubbling out of her. It’s equal parts relieved she can save the heavy conversation for later and delight that he’s not lost his desire to make John squirm. “Michael.”

“Alright, alright,” he intones dutifully, “porch railing it is. Perfect place, I think.”

She groans—it does not sound like the perfect place—but when he sits her on it and kisses her, arms looped around her midsection to keep her close and unhurried in tempo, she thinks she’ll be alright with it for this time.

“You think the little guy’s gonna come unglued?” he murmurs thoughtfully. “Not to make all of our sexy talk about how mad John’s gonna be, it’s really a bonus on top of you, you know—”

“Michael,” she says against his mouth, “shut up and kiss me.”

He laughs, rumbling out a short little mean before he obliges, and Isolde thinks, yes, I can tell, because when he does shut up and kiss her, the relief is palpable; blooming warm and fresh in her chest where the ache had been before, the tightness, and even though it’s not completely gone it does feel abated, a little.

As long as he’s here, she’ll be alright.

[stenbrozier]

Secrets (Bill Denbrough x Uris!Reader)

“omgg could you write a fic where stan is very overprotective of reader and bill has a huge crush on reader and bill has to prove himself to stan to date the reader? that would be so cute jsjsjsjsjs” - @gogosbeautiful

Plot: You’re Stan’s twin sister and are also very close with the Losers. You’ve known Bill ever since you were little and have liked him for forever. When Richie accidentally lets it spill, that Bill likes you back in front of Stan, Stan tries so hard to keep it from happening. He doesn’t want his little sister to end of broken hearted and messy.

Warnings: swearing + lil bit of angst

A/N: Did someone say...big bro Stan?? Because I did lmao. Also, I know I said I was on a bit of hiatus, but I’m still trying to get the ideas that we’re given to me BEFORE out. If you want to request something, don’t expect it right away!! Thank you guys for your cooperation :)

——————————————————————————

You and Stan had been close your whole lives, especially since your parents weren’t as focused on their kids as they were their religion. Stanley had protected you when you guys started daycare, protected you when you guys started elementary school, and protected you when you met the three other boys who became your closest friends. Stanley was closest to Bill Denbrough, and as a kid, Bill would talk about you nonstop. How pretty your hair was, how your eyes sparkled when you’d see him on the playground. Stanley heard all of it.

And he hated it.

As you guys grew up, your feelings for Bill started to develop from just best friends into wanting to kiss him and hold him. You wanted to tell your brother, but you knew how scary he got when he was overprotective. He loved you, more than your parents by a long shot, and he didn’t want you to get walked all over my some guy. But that some guy was Bill.

You knew that he wanted you back because Richie had told you one night where you and him has snuck out the quarry to talk. Besides Stan, Richie was the one you were closest to.

“Bill loves you, you know,” Richie whispered out of the blue. “I-I see the way you look at him, so I figured I’d tell you. When it’s just us guys, he doesn’t fucking shut up about you.”

You smiled to yourself, sighing out loud to show Richie that you heard him. “So Stan knows?”

“Yeah,” Richie let out a huge laugh, “and he doesn’t like it.”

About a week after Richie had told you about Bill’s “hidden” feelings, you decided to confront Stan about not telling you. He was busy doing his homework so you sat on his bed for a while before casually bringing up Bill.

“So did you see Bill today?” you asked calmly, wrapping one of his blankets around you as you sat next to him on his bed. “Because Richie told me something and I wanted to know if...if it was true.”

He furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at his math homework, looking up at you confused and defensive. “What’s wrong? Do I need to beat him up?”

You shook your head wildly, playing with your hands as you heard him drop his pencil onto his folder.

“No! No, um, Richie told me that...Bill-“ Stanley started waving his hands wildly, cutting you off.

“Whatever he said about Bill is-is wrong,” Stanley said loudly. “Bill doesn’t talk about much, esp-especially nothing about you.” He cleared his throat, looking back at his homework. You nodded, looking back down at your hands and then standing up. “(Y/N/N)?”

“Richie told me Bill had a crush on me,” you mumbled softly. “I-I just wanted to see if you heard anything.”

“(Y/N)-“ You stood up, walking over to the door and shaking your head. Stanley saw the tears in your eyes, and his heart broke in his chest. “He-I’m sorry, okay? I just, uh, I don’t think he likes you...like that.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself before feeling tears stream down your face. You took in a sharp breath, and Stanley immediately ran over to you and engulfed you in a hug. He rubbed your back, burying his face in your hair as you fisted his shirt.

“Why...why would Richie lie to me?” you asked with frown on your face. He averted his eyes, biting on his lip and he shrugged. “I-Stanley are you lying to me?”

You pulled away from your brother, staring at him with furrowed eyebrows. He stuttered a little, not giving you a clear response, which was enough for you. You started crying harder, angrily walking out of his room. Going to the front door, you slid on your shoes and yelled for your mom, telling her you were leaving. Stanley was running down the stairs after you but you shut the door in his face. The distance between your’s and Bill’s houses wasn’t astronomical, so you were able to get there in about 10 minutes. As you knocked on the door, it swung open quickly, Bill staring at you on the other side.

“H-hey, (Y-Y-Y/N),” Bill said excitedly, his smile taking over his face. He stared at you for a few more seconds before blushing and inviting you in. He lead you up to his room after yelling to his mom that it was you at the door. “W-what are you d-d-doing here?”

You shrugged your shoulders, wringing your hands as you slid your shoes off and sat cross legged on his bed. “Richie...told me something the other night, and then, uh, Stanley denied it.” You stopped talking, trying to get the courage to confess.

“He-he told you I l-l-liked you...didn’t h-he?” Bill asked dejectedly.

You nodded cautiously, carefully studying his face as he morphed from holding fear to holding a sliver of confidence. You cleared your throat, the words meek and soft as they flowed out of your mouth like a choppy river. “I-I like you, too.”

“Are-are you s-s-sure?” he mumbled in disbelief, his eyes wide as you nodded. “C-cause Stan...”

“Stan told me you didn’t like me,” you quietly responded. “He...told me Richie was lying, but I know Richie wouldn’t lie to me of all fucking people. So I had to come ask you. Cause-“

“Cause you like m-me b-back,” he finished, a big smile spread across his face. “L-listen, if you don’t wanna do any-anything about it b-because of S-S-Stan, then that‘s-that’s okay.” He sat down next to you on bed, turning his body so he could grab your hands in his. You froze, staring into his shiny, green eyes.

“I want this,” you answered confidently. “Fuck what Stan thinks. It’s not his life, and he doesn’t always need to protect me. Especially not from you.”

A wide grin broke out on Bill’s face as it turned beat red, a tiny giggle falling from his lips. Still high off confidence, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Bill squeezes your hands before letting one come up to hold the side of your face. He brought it back to him again, placing a tiny, nervous peck on your lips before quickly pulling away. Despite his face’s fast retreat, his hand stayed firm against the junction of your neck and cheek.

“Let’s try, Bill?” you asked, secretly hoping he’d agree. You knew he wasn’t afraid of Stan, but that was still one of his best friends.

“Y-yeah,” he said, rubbing his thumb along your cheek, his other hand moving to encircle your waist and pull you against his chest.

You laughed at the awkward position, pulling away and moving up to the headboard on his bed. He crawled up next to you, wrapping both of his arms around you and kissing your forehead softly, burying his face into your hair as you rubbed one of your hands along his chest. This was the definition of peace, neither of you caring what tomorrow would bring when Stanley ultimately found out.