#god my dad has asked me two different times if i intended to hang out with my family over the holidays

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

i saw a mythology prompt earlier today to retell the story of icarus from the pov of the sun and i thought of how i would react if i were to experience that idiot as our sun soooo… without further ado:

Too Hot to Handle: The Sun’s Monologue

Shit, here goes another one… I swear, these mortals never learn.

I’m minding my own business, illuminating Earth like I always do—keeping my planets in orbit, growing the various crops, you know, basic life-sustaining stuff—when I notice this kid flapping his way toward me. Yes, toward me. I’m used to people admiring me from a distance (I mean, who wouldn’t?), but this one? Hell, he’s even got that look. That entitled ‘I’m special, the laws don’t apply to me look.’ Give me a break.

Icarus, they called him. What a name… I guess the junior and his dad, Daedalus (who’s at least smart enough to keep his own two feet on the ground as Zeus intended), thought they could outwit gravity with some, now, get a load of this: feathers and candle wax. You heard me—feathers. As if that wasn’t going to end in a spectacular disaster.

Now, before we dive any deeper into his whole little meltdown, let’s be very clear: I didn’t invite him here.

I’m simply doing my job, hanging out in space, radiating warmth, and oh you know, keeping everyone alive. And what does this moron decide to do with his life? He makes it his life’s mission to get up close and personal with me. I mean, I get it—I’m irresistible. But come on, we all know I’m a bit too hot to handle. Wink wink.

His dad warned him, of course… “Don’t fly too close to the sun," he said. Standard dad advice, right? But did Icarus listen? Ha! Of course not. He’s got wings now and arrogantly thinks he’s above it all—literally. Flapping higher and higher, all full of himself, or maybe the fumes from the poorly cured wax. I guess the rules of physics don’t apply when you’re having this much fun.

He's still here, getting closer and closer. And I can't help but wonder, 'Is this kid serious?' You could practically hear, not to mention smell, the wax starting to sizzle into his skin day after day, but nope. He kept coming, eyes wide, like he would make history or something?

Then came the inevitable—meltdown, both literal and figurative. His DIY wings start dripping wax all over the place. Feathers fall like tragic little snowflakes, and I can feel the panic hit him. That oh-no-I-screwed-up moment. I felt myself almost begin to feel bad for his naive hubris, but then I gleefully remembered this is my favorite part of arrogance. Failure.

You thought you could handle me? Please.

And down he goes, straight into the ocean, swallowed up like the wrong idea he came up with. Sploosh. Game over.

All that pointless ambition, that 'I’m-gonna-be-different attitude'—down the drain, along with the wasted feathers and dried wax. Now he’s just another legend (if you could even call him that) about why you shouldn’t fly too close to, well, me.

Now, I never ask for any of this. Do you think I wanted to fry some kid with a god complex? Nah. Enjoyable as mortal naïveté is, I’m simply here, doing what I’ve always done—burning bright, giving life, and occasionally serving a harsh reality check to anyone who thinks they can waltz into my territory without consequence.

But hey, what do I know? I’m just the sun.

I’ve only been doing this for a few billion years. Yet somehow, every so often, someone like Icarus decides that this time will be different. This time, they’ll beat the odds. And every time, without fail, they come crashing back down, wings melted, dreams shattered. You want to bask in my light? Be my guest. Enjoy the warmth; soak it in even, boo. But don’t ever get too cocky. Don’t think you can get too close without suffering consequences. Because trust me, I may shine, but I've never played favorites, and I will scorch your ass without so much as a second (or first) thought.

Icarus learned the hard way, poor thing. But me? Please… I’m still burning brighter than you and your fav, waiting for the next fool who thinks they can handle this scorching sunshine of mine. Spoiler: They can’t.

[lostcauses-noregrets]

I think that person is talking about a twitter discussion about Eruri being an Erwin centric ship where Levi is mostly reduced to being his love interest and a side character and I am surprised by that discussion because it sounded like they were experiencing this for the first time while I strongly believe that it applies to every ship? I remember Zutara being extremely popular when I was a kid and it has always been mostly a Zuko centric ship. I have 2 other anime ships I am actually embarrassed of xD and they are like that, too. Eruri fandom has its issues imo (wasn't there a person who was "exposing" people for liking Levi more than Erwin like it makes them fake Eruri shippers hahahahaha and a small part of the fandom belittles and argues with other Levi ships) but in general Eruri fandom is huge and there are all kinds of people and fics and arts and actually this leads me to another question because it blew my mind, Lost and I'd like to know what you think but recently on twitter someone pointed out that Erwin's character changes a lot from Junior High to canon to other canon-ish materials and maybe I'm dumb but I just realized this but oh my god it's actually true. It's interesting that Levi and Hange and Mikasa and all other characters mostly stay the same while Erwin goes from ruthless to sweet dad jokes to playful etc how interesting! It makes me wonder what kind of person Erwin was before commandership weighed on him. Imagine young cadet Erwin meeting thug Levi xD

The first half of this Anon refers to this ask that I replied to recently. I'm going to break this down because there's a lot going on here.

I think that person is talking about a twitter discussion about Eruri being an Erwin centric ship where Levi is mostly reduced to being his love interest and a side character and I am surprised by that discussion because it sounded like they were experiencing this for the first time while I strongly believe that it applies to every ship?

While I agree that it's common for fans to have a favourite, I don't think that necessarily means that the other character has to be reduced to a "love interest" or "side character". Personally speaking I can't imagine shipping two characters unless I was fully invested in both of them. And when it comes to Erwin and Levi, if anyone is reducing Levi to a love interest and a side character then I'd suggest they're missing one of the main points of their relationship which is that it's mutual and equal.

Eruri fandom has its issues imo (wasn't there a person who was "exposing" people for liking Levi more than Erwin like it makes them fake Eruri shippers hahahahaha

No idea, though I suspect my block list is working as intended.

and a small part of the fandom belittles and argues with other Levi ships

That I agree with, which is one of the main reasons I mute and block.

but in general Eruri fandom is huge and there are all kinds of people and fics and arts

Exactly. This point can't be repeated too often. The fandom is large and diverse and people have very different opinions on characterisation and relationships.

It's interesting that Levi and Hange and Mikasa and all other characters mostly stay the same while Erwin goes from ruthless to sweet dad jokes to playful etc how interesting!

I can't comment on Junior High because I've never watched it (one of these days I'll get round to it) but Erwin's character does evolve significantly from the start of the manga to Midnight Sun, and the supplementary materials, such as the official guidebooks and Smartpass content lend even more depth and nuance to an already complex character. This is partially explained by the fact that Isayama admitted that he didn't have a good grasp on Erwin's character when he first started drawing him. There's a very insightful interview with Isayama from 2016, translated by @darkcyradis, where he talks about his inspiration for Levi, Erwin and Hanji.

Levi has the easily understood moniker of “Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.” But Erwin doesn’t have anything of the kind. He’s the leader of the Survey Corps, is respected by all, and is an insightful leader.* That was my image of him as well, but on the flip side, that was all I had on him.

... for Erwin, there’s no person I can easily compare him to like that.

The main reason for that is probably because I didn’t have anyone in my life who was an “insightful leader” like my initial portrayal of Erwin. Of course, I’m sure there were people who were “insightful leaders” to a certain degree around me, but—and this is likely due to a quirk of my own personality—the grander a person, the more my eyes are drawn to the places where they’re frayed, or are coming apart at the seams.

Armin once said of him, “If a person existed who was capable of bringing change, they would have to be able to sacrifice things that are important to them.”

Erwin is certainly someone who can do that, but because I had no one in reality to model him on, and because I, the creator, had no shred of an “insightful leader” within myself to use either, I think I ended up making Erwin more and more human as I went along.

... Lately, though, I’ve started enjoying drawing Erwin. To put it simply, I think it’s because I am now able to write Erwin not as the “insightful leader,” but as he is inside my heart, an Erwin who is very complex inside.

It makes me wonder what kind of person Erwin was before commandership weighed on him.

I think we can get a glimpse of the kind of man Erwin might have been in Isayama's highschool AU where he appears rather sweet and dorky ♡

[stonesandswords]

…

[londonalozzy]

Stop Pretending (TFATWS)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst

Summary: The reader thinks she's doing a stellar job of keeping her feelings for a certain soldier buried deep inside. Turns out, all it takes is an observant new friend to begin the unraveling of her most precious secret (Spoilers for TFATWS)

Masterlist

Word: Pretence

Definition: A way of acting that is intended to deceive people.

Example: Saying that he's just a friend when he's really the love of your life.

Your POV

Being caught in the midst of war is something that I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)  know all too well. As a war vet, former shield agent, and now Avenger I'm used to being centered amongst conflict. When the fight begins within me though, a battle between what I want and what I think is right, how will I react? Will I listen to my heart, my head, or will the winner be chosen for me?

Delacroix, Louisiana.....

I love my sleep, always have, always will. It's not necessarily the comfort of the bed, the quiet or even the rest. It's the fact that I'm at peace when I sleep. My life has a tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, so anything that will put that off for as long as possible I savor.

I wish it were the same for a certain super soldier in my life. I look forward to going to bed, everything calms down then, and for most people it's the same. For Bucky however, it's when everything starts, the nightmares, the terrors, the seemingly unending darkness. If only I could take his pain away like he has with mine.

For the last few weeks, my life had, for want of a better word, been hectic. Hectic to say the least.

After the eventual defeat of Thanos and the loses we endured as a result, I thought naively that life might calm down a bit, that I'd have time to breathe, to live. How wrong I was.

It all began with John Walker being announced to the world as the new Captain America.

I was baking cookies with Morgan in the Stark family kitchen when it came over the radio. As that latest turn of events sunk in, my first thoughts were of Bucky, what that would do to him. Not even an hour later I had said my goodbyes and was on my way to help him get the shield back.

Since then even more had happened. We'd regrouped with Sam, busted Zemo out of prison which in turn ruffled the feathers of Ayo and the Dora Milaje. We came face to face with Morgenthou and the Flag Smashers, and finally witnessed the man who thought he could even compete with Steve, make himself judge, jury and most significantly executioner.

After that went around the world we knew we had to end it sooner rather than later. It couldn't get much worse than Captain America becoming a murderer. We got the shield back, which was a fight all in itself. Handed Zemo over to Ayo, to try and recompense for the distrust we'd instilled in the people who'd helped us so much. Then we travelled to stay with Sam and his family in Louisiana whilst we waited for Karli's next move.

This is where we found ourselves now, in the eye of it, the calm before the storm.

Waking up in the Wilson households guest room, I was greeted to the golden hue of the rising sun penetrating through the single glaze windows, and the melodic sounds of gulls on the hunt for their morning meal down by the docks.

Actually, no that's not right. What I could hear was most certainly not birds, and it was definitely not melodic. What were those boys doing?

Quickly and quietly I threw on the first clothes I could get my hands on and made my way downstairs towards the noise. What caught my attention when I discovered the source, was not the two youngest Wilson boys playing with our newly reacquired shield in the living room, but the super solider who was blissfully ignorant to it all, sleeping peacefully on the couch in front of them. I don't think I'd ever been so happy.

"Right you two, if you're determined to play Avengers all morning then I suggest you re-assemble in the back yard. You're gonna wake Bucky up," I whispered out in one breath, stepping between the boys, then placing my hands on their backs and tip toeing them towards the door.

"So what if we wake him up? It's gone 10am," Cass questioned in protest, pulling on his sneakers and jacket.

"Exactly! Which is why if you do as I say, I will make you the biggest plate of waffles for breakfast that you've ever seen."

The boys eyes lit up. "Can we have ice cream with it? Mum never lets us have ice cream for breakfast, and I'm sure there's a tub of Stark raving hazelnuts in the freezer," AJ clapped in muted excitement. "Oh, for God's sake.....Yes. You can have whatever you want if you get out of this house now and keep the noise down."

Once the boys were outside, I made my way over to the kitchen, stopping on the way to lean over my favourite senior citizen and make sure that he was still peaceful in his slumber. He'd never looked so relaxed, so at ease. It was a brand new Bucky I'd never seen before, a Bucky that had my heart pounding for him even more than it normally did. Not that he knew any of that.

Half an hour later and up to my elbows in waffle mix, I failed to notice my new friend and host Sarah making her way to my side at the counter, the huge smile on my face not going unnoticed. "What's got you grinning like the Cheshire cat, like I need to ask?"

"Bucky's sleeping. Isn't it amazing?" I spoke softly, bouncing up and down on my feet as I did so.

"And why is that?" She couldn't looked more confused if she tried.

"In all the years I've known him, I don't think I've ever woken up before he has. If his nightmares don't keep him awake all night, they normally have him up before the crack of dawn. I don't think I've ever seen him so still."

"Good answer," Sarah nodded in a hush, understanding why this meant so much to me, but not done yet with her morning interrogations, "Now on to my next question......"

"I'm already not liking the sound of this."

"Sleeping Beauty over there follows you around like a little puppy dog. He hangs on your every word, looks at you like you hung the stars or something. It's pretty obvious how crazy he is about you, so when are you gonna stop pretending that you're not head over heels in love with him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Wilson," I smiled forcefully, making out like the waffle maker deserved my attention way more than the conversation I was being made to have.

This was all Sam's doing, without a shadow of a doubt. He'd tried to have this conversation with me on multiple occasions and I shut him down every time. He obviously hadn't given up like I thought he did, and decided to draft in his sister. He is seriously gonna regret it when I find him.

"Sure you know what I'm talking about. Sam sees it, I don't even know you that well and I see it. The only reason Bucky doesn't, is because he doesn't believe he could ever be that lucky. You're a smitten kitten." These Wilson's are all as annoying as each other.

Knowing I wasn't getting out of this one, I grabbed Sarah by the arm and pulled her right into the corner of the room, trying my best to keep this convo as private as possible. "Look, I'm not pretending.....I'm ignoring. There's a difference."

"Care to explain what that difference is?" Sarah spoke softly, but with a sarcastic air.

Turning to look over my shoulder at the subject of our conversation, making sure he was still safely in the land of nod, I decided to just be honest. Sarah was much like her brother. Once she wanted to get to the bottom of something she wasn't about to give up.

"I love Bucky, more than I've ever loved anyone...and that terrifies me," the rawness of finally being honest making my voice shake, and tears come to my eyes. "Nat was like my sister, and she's dead. Tony was the closest I've ever gotten to having a Dad...and he's dead too. Then there's Steve, Vision, God knows where Wanda is....Everyone I love, either leaves or dies. If I admit my feelings for Buck then I face the risk of losing him too."

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now? He's not going to die because you love him (Y/N)."

Silent tears were falling now. I was revealing my deepest fears to a woman I'd only known a few days, and I'm not underplaying it when I say it was like a colossal weight off my chest, a release I didn't know I needed. "Believe me...I know, but I can't take that risk. I can't lose anyone else, especially not him."

"Let's just say for a second that you're right, that there is some higher power somewhere, set on destroying everyone you love. Do you really think ignoring your feelings is going to make them disappear?" I didn't know what to say to that. "Natasha and Stark died so that everyone could continue living, and (Y/N) you're not living as long as you keep this to yourself. They wouldn't want that for you."

"But what if I lose him?" I whispered with a choked sigh.

"Then at least he'll die knowing how you felt about him. After everything he's been through don't you think he deserves to know there's someone out there who loves him like you do?"

"Of course..."

Sarah's lips pulled upwards in a satisfied smirk, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze, "then you owe it to yourself, and to him, to tell him the truth."

"Why do all you Wilson's have to be so clever?" I voiced in mock irritation, pushing her away from me and acting like I was annoyed she had gotten one up on me.

"I don't know," she thought aloud and with a cheeky grin, grabbing a plate to start piling on the long forgotten waffles, "I think it might be the sea air or something."

"Nah, it's in the genes," I chuckled quietly, grabbing my jacket and deciding it was time to get this conversation wrapped up. "I'll go find Sam and the boys for breakfast. Clear my head a little bit."

"You promise you're gonna tell him?" Sarah stopped me as I went to push the door open.

"I'll think about it."

3rd person POV

Once (Y/N) was out of ear shot, Sarah couldn't help but start jumping up and down in excitement, clapping her hands loudly as she did so. That went even better than she thought it would, and she was so proud of herself. Sarah Wilson could now add matchmaker to her resume.

"Coast is clear Barnes. You can open your eyes now."

(Y/N) had no idea what she had metaphorically walked into just minutes earlier, entering that very revealing conversation with her overly inquisitive host.

What drew Sarah to come down that morning was the sounds of both the front porch door opening and the smell of homemade waffles wafting up the stairs. As she entered the kitchen she was met with two sights. One being (Y/N), facing the counter and looking very smiley, the other being a wide awake super soldier who was just laying on the couch and staring at her, the sole object of his affection. Sarah could work with this.

Every time (Y/N) turned back in his direction, Bucky would close his eyes and pretend to be asleep again. He had never slept so soundly, so peacefully, thoughts of (Y/N) and his new friends filling his nightmare free dreams.

He'd initially woken to (Y/N) ushering the boys outside because she was afraid they would wake him up. He didn't want to disappoint her by proving her right. Besides, he liked just watching her move around the kitchen, completely unaware he was observing her the whole time. He had no idea about the conversation that was just about to happen.

After (Y/N) had left and Sarah had confirmed so, Bucky sat himself up, his body shaking with adrenaline and a look of complete shock fixed on his face. Had he definitely woken up, or had the whole thing been a part of his dream? Did (Y/N) seriously just admit that she was in love with him?

Bucky didn't know how to react, didn't know what to say as he looked up at a smug Sarah from his spot. All he'd ever wanted was for (Y/N) to feel the same way about him as he did about her. Now he knew that she did.

"You're welcome by the way."

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

The shifting narrative of God’s interventism and how it reflects on the narrative on John

This post will ignore the issue authorial intent entirely because I can, but it’s also about authorial intent in a way, but I also don’t like to talk about things as happening “accidentally” because a) a serialized story like Supernatural, especially one that got renewed for much longer than anyone could possibly expect or hope in their wildest ambitions, structurally relies on serendipity, because that’s how stories work when they’re work in progress, b) a television show is an extremely multi-authored text and the chance that something happens out of the intent of any of the multiple layers of creators is kind of... statistically negligible. So, yeah, that’s my stance on the topic. Anyway.

The shifting narrative about God is simultaneously something that hangs on fortunate storytelling clicks on an essentially programmed narrative. At first, we don’t know where the fuck God is. Cas starts looking for him with little success. Raphael says he’s dead, Cas doesn’t believe it. Dean relates to his struggle because he knows the feeling of not knowing where the fuck your father is and going looking for him with little success, not knowing if he’s even alive. Then the theory that gets assumed as the truth is that God has left. He fucked off who knows where, who knows why, leaving his creation to struggle alone. Also essentially how Dean had felt after John had died; in that case there was guilt for his demon deal and everything, but the most cruel weight on Dean’s shoulder was that John left him alone to struggle with his devastatingly horrific instructions he doesn’t understand. The angels are also left with horrific instructions they don’t understand. No wonder Cas does his own ‘demon deal’ in season 6, as he desperately tries to do what he assumes his father wants from him, but he doesn’t actually know what that is.

“God has left” is maddening, and everyone is angry about it, but it has its own dignity. God has left us without clear instructions, we are confused and in pain and evil runs amock but at least, we suppose, the evil of it is our own doing. We are alone and we do our best, our best is simply not enough. We wish he gave us guidance, but he won’t. He wants us to figure it out ourselves, possibly. We don’t actually know what he wants. But maybe that’s the point. It’s possible he doesn’t even know what’s happening, he just has left the building entirely.

But then Chuck reveals himself. We find out that he never actually left. He was there. “I like front row seats. You know, I figured I’d hide out in plain sight”. He simply chooses not to intervene. He chooses not to answer. He chooses to be hands-off. He presents himself as a laissez-faire parent, because, he says, it’s better for his children to have the responsibility they need to grow up. He’s absent, but in a different way than we thought! It’s not that he doesn’t know what’s happening or isn’t interested in knowing what’s happening. He’s here, he knows what’s happening, he just stays there and watches as you stumble and struggle and scream. It’s worse, and it pains Dean so much he isn’t even afraid to yell at God. You know we’re suffering and you just don’t give us any support, any comfort.

You’re frustrated. I get it. Believe me, I was hands-on, real hands-on, for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created... would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being overinvolved is no longer parenting. It’s enabling.

But it didn’t get better.

Well, I’ve been mulling it over. And from where I sit, I think it has.

Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us and you’re trying to justify it.

I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don’t confuse me with your dad.

At that point of the show, the writing team almost certainly didn’t have the s14-15 twist in mind. So this was probably intended to be Chuck’s truth. Later it gets twisted (retconned?) into a lie, but about that later.

Here, Chuck is really good at manipulating the conversation. Dean has a perfectly valid point, because there IS a middle ground between being overinvolved and not being involved at all. There is a middle ground between enabling your children and abandoning them completely. But Chuck hits Dean where it hurts, plays the emotional card, basically tells him that he’s too emotional to understand, too emotional to think rationally about it, because he mixes his feelings about his father to the issue and thus cannot see it clearly. He basically tells him he’s too close to it to get it. You don’t understand parenting, Dean, because you’re too blinded by your emotions about your own little life and cannot see the big picture.

It doesn’t really matter here if he’s telling the truth or lying, it already says a lot about Chuck that he’s emotionally manipulating Dean, silencing him by hitting the painful spot.

But the thing is, 11.20 immediately presents Chuck as a liar. He makes Metatron read his autobiography and the very first line is a lie (“In the beginning, there was me. Boom – detail. And what a grabber. I mean, I’m hooked, and I was there.” “I’m hooked too, and yet... details. You weren’t alone in the beginning. Your sister was with you.”) and the stuff he talks about his experience as Chuck is not exactly truthful about anything (“That, you know, makes you seem like a really grounded, likable person.” “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” “You are neither grounded nor a person!”). Metatron calls him out (“Okay. There are two types of memoir. One is honest... the other, not so much. Truth and fairy tale. Now, do you want to write Life by Keith Richards? Or do you want to write Wouldn’t It Be Nice by Brian Wilson?”). Chuck SAYS he chooses truth and gives Metatron a different manuscript, supposedly containing the truth, to which Metatron reacts positively. Metatron believes it, and we believe it with him.

Oh! Oh, this! This is what I was talking about. Chapter Ten “Why I Never Answer Prayers, and You Should Be Glad I Don’t”, and Chapter Eleven “The Truth About Divine Intervention and Why I Avoid It At All Costs”.

Nature? Divine. Human nature – toxic.

They do like blowing stuff up.

Yeah. And the worst part – they do it in my name. And then they come crying to me, asking me to forgive, to fix things. Never taking any responsibility.

What about your responsibility?

I took responsibility... by leaving. At a certain point, training wheels got to come off. No one likes a helicopter parent.

This is sort of what he later says to Dean, except that to Dean he talks about “beautiful creatures” “my baby”, talks about helping, none of the harsh tone he’s using here. When Metatron accuses him of hiding from Amara, he retorts “I am not hiding. I am just done watching my experiments’ failures”. What a different language, uh? Then Metatron asks him why he abandoned them, and Chuck answers “Because you disappointed me. You all disappointed me”. Then, he admits he lied about “learning” to play the guitar and so on, because he just gave himself the ability, and then appears to Dean and Sam, after Metatron’s passionate speech about humanity.

So, no matter the authorial intent at the time - the truthiness of Chuck’s words was already ambiguous. He kept lying and being called out, or silencing the conversation with some good ol’ gaslighting.

The season 14 finale introduces the big twist: it was, indeed, all a lie. The whole of it. Chuck didn’t abandon shit. It was all him, minutely controlling the narrative of the universe, putting the characters through all the pain and struggles for his own amusement.

The “absent father” narrative was a lie.

What does this tell us about John? Nothing, according to the authorial intent that shines through Dabb’s Lebanon. But we don’t give a crap about Dabb’s authorial intent about John! He’s just one dude and plenty of other authors have painted a different picture. So I’m going to read the narrative the way I want, because I can, and the narrative allows me to. It’s all there.

I’m suggesting that the fact that Chuck lied when he talked about being a hands-off/absentee father parallels how Dean and Sam prefer to think of their father as an “absent father” when that’s not exactly a reflection of the truth.

You left us. Alone. ‘Cause Dad was just a shell. [...] And I-I had to be more than just a brother. I had to be a father and I had to be a mother, to keep him safe.

Setting aside how “I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” sort of retcons and cleans up the Winchester family picture painted by ealier seasons, the fact that John didn’t really count as a functional father figure and Dean and Sam were essentually alone is not incorrect or anything. It is true that John would leave them to their own devices a lot, thus the long stays in motels, the hunger, the food-stealing, and all. But John wasn’t always absent, at all. He trained them as soldiers, he disciplined them, he was around enough for them to be intimately familiar with what happened when he drank. He drove them around.

It’s almost like it’s preferable to Dean and Sam to spin their own “absent father” narrative, putting the accent on the time they spent alone, painting their childhood as a time they had to grow up on their own, rather than acknowledge they grew up under the thumb of a controlling, looming figure they would regularly live in fear of, even when he was not physically present.

The “absent father” narrative is what Dean and Sam need to use to avoid confronting the reality of the father figure whose moods and whims they had to dance around. “I know things got dicey... you know, with Dad... the way he was. And I just... I didn’t always look out for you the way that I should have. I mean, I had my own stuff, you know. In order to keep the peace, probably looked like I took his side quite a bit.”

John shaped their lives. He shaped their identities. Even in the episodes where he abandons Dean or both children somewhere, he’s portrayed as the figure who drives the car. He symbolically drives the car, you know? John shaped Dean and Sam’s relationship with each other, both on a surface level (the conflicts) and on a deeper level (the parental dynamic).

Heck. The entire first season of the show plays on John’s disappearance as the “elephant in the room”. John is there by not being there, you know? And after he dies, his death - his absence - is again the elephant in the room for Dean, the weight on his psyche that he shatters under.

It is not wrong that Dean and Sam had to spend long periods of time without John. But John structured their lives in quite minute detail. Where they needed to be, what they needed to do, what they must not do, everything had to follow John’s instructions. A drill sergeant, the narrative called him, ordering how his sons needed to live their lives. That’s no absence, except on a level where Chuck not showing himself and pretending he’s not there can be considered absent. That’s a presence, not necessarily always physical, but semiotical and psychological.

John is an absent father as much as Chuck is a hands-off god. He even writes himself into the story around the time Cas has the “season 1” phase (let’s go look for dad/let’s go look for god), which is when John actually was alive and appeared. Then he was no longer physically there, but he was still shaping his characters’ lives, just like he’d always done.

The “absent father” narrative on John is that - a narrative. Spun by the characters themselves because it’s easier and actually kinder on John. Or, better, it allows them not to be crushed by the psychological implications of having to accept that their father was such a looming, minutely formative figure in their lives. They know, but they can wave the “absent father” idea around to avoid thinking about it.

“I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” is something easier to tell yourself. I was the one who did it all. But he wasn’t, and that’s the problem. The fact that John was their father - Dean’s and Sam’s - is the problem. But ironically, blaming himself for every failure is a better option for Dean than fully acknowledging John’s abuse. As long as he blames himself, he has control over it. The moment he acknowledges the extent of John’s influence, he loses control over the entire narrative of his own identity and the family identity, the family dynamics. That’s scarier, just like realizing that God manipulated everything is much scarier than the alternative. “God abandoned us” was indeed a better option, and “John left us alone” was a better option. But neither was true, and the characters faced the implications of the cosmic level, but never got to face the implication of the familial level, because the narrative always danced around it and then Dabb’s apologist version “won”.

But what’s been put in the show is still there. The narrative of John’s abuse is still there. Nothing can take it out of the story.

[nowandajenn]

Blue Christmas- Eight

Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Kelly

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, smut, language, angst, mentions of miscarriage. If any of this is triggering to you, do not read. 

A/N: This is going to be very dialogue heavy, and will have flashbacks of the night that Chris cheated and everything that happened. Flashbacks will be in italics. Just a warning, this chapter is a BEAST. There’s a lot to unpack, and it’s going to be super emotional. 

December 29

Chris watches from his seat in the comfortable leather recliner in our living room as I twist my wedding and engagement rings around on my finger. It’s a nervous little habit that I do without even really realizing it or thinking about it. A million thoughts cross his mind as he sits silently, waiting for me to say something. 

After taking a few deep breaths to try and steel myself for the conversation that I KNOW that Chris and I need to have, I finally look up from the floor and at him. 

“Do you want a divorce?” Okay, the thousand different times I pictured this conversation happening in my head, that was definitely NOT one of the ways. Apparently my mouth and brain aren’t communicating very well today. 

Chris looks up at me, his expression aghast. 

“Wha-.......” he tries to speak, but is too stunned to even form the words. 

“Is that why you cheated? You don’t want to be with me anymore, so you went somewhere else for whatever is it that you weren’t getting from me?”

“No! Jesus Christ, no! I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. I can’t imagine my life without you. No, I don’t want a divorce.” he tells me. 

“Okay, if that’s not it, then you have to help me out here. Because I don’t understand what possible reason you could have for cheating. It had to be something that I did. Or something I didn’t do. I need you to tell me what happened. Because until I have all the facts and I understand what the hell happened, we can’t move forward.” 

He sits forward in the chair and sighs. 

“What do you want me to tell you?” 

“I want you to tell me what happened that night after we FaceTimed. I want to know what happened between then and the next morning.” I tell him. 

“You KNOW what happened.” he says miserably. 

I shake my head. “No, I know the end result. I want you to walk me through every single thing that happened that night. Everything you were thinking, everything you did.”

“Why? What good is that going to do? What’s the goddamn point? How is me telling you everything that happened going to help ANYTHING? All it’s going to do is hurt you more, and I can’t do that. I won’t.”

“The point is, if we have even the smallest hope of getting through this intact, with our MARRIAGE intact, I need to understand this. I need to know. I need to know, because when I go to sleep at night, all I can see in my head is all the things that I imagine happened that night. And I need to know if what actually happened is better or worse than what I can imagine happened. I have a right, as your wife, to know what you did.” 

Chris looks up, silently pleading with you to not make him do this, but he knows that you’re right. You do deserve to know, even if it’s going to devastate you. 

“After we got off the phone, I had to go right back into interviews and there was two more photo calls we had to do, so by the time we got done it was about 7:30 that night. I was distracted the whole time. I hated that we fought, and I felt like an asshole, and I just wanted to call you back and apologize, but I didn’t have time. Plus, I figured that we both probably needed a little bit of time to cool down. I told myself that I was going to call you that night before I went to bed so we could talk more and I could apologize to you. We all got out of there, and Cate and Robert and the rest of them wanted to go to dinner, so we came back to the hotel, changed, and then went out to eat.” Chris tells me. 

“What time did you get back from dinner?” 

“Around 10, I think. It couldn’t have been much later than that. Everyone else was talking about going out and finding a bar or a club to go to, but I just wanted to come back to the hotel and relax. I wasn’t in the mood to be around a lot of people.” 

I pull my feet up on the couch and tuck them under me. 

“Okay, so you got back to the hotel, and then what did you do?” 

For as tired as he was, Chris couldn’t relax. He tried taking a hot shower, laying in bed watching TV, browsing social media, and flipping through pictures on his phone. Finally, after about 45 minutes and getting more and more keyed up and anxious, he decides to go down to the hotel bar. 

When he walks in, the place is empty except for an older couple seated down at the end and the bartender. Chris slides himself onto one of the stools and the bartender makes her way over to him. 

“Thank God. A friendly face.” she says with a smile. 

Chris glances down the bar at the couple. “They seem pretty friendly.” he remarks. 

“Yeah, but they’ve been here for an hour and they’re literally babying their drinks, and aren’t much for conversation that doesn’t involve each other. I’m bored out of my mind.” 

She stick her hand out. “I’m Jo.”

Chris reaches across the bar and shakes her hand with his own. “Chris. Nice to meet you.”

“So, Chris, what’s your poison?”

“What was her name?” I ask him. He just referred to her as “the bartender” and “she”. 

He runs his hand down his face and over his beard. 

“I don’t......I honestly can’t remember. It was one of those boys names for a girl. You know.....Alex or Max or James.......I don’t......I can’t remember.” 

I cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath. I want to scream already, and he’s not even deep into the story. I shake my head slightly. 

“You slept with this girl, and you don’t even remember her NAME.” I say softly. 

Chris hangs his head. 

“Keep going.” 

She pours him another measure of whiskey, along with a shot for herself. They clink glasses and swallow the amber liquid, letting it burn it’s way down. 

“So what did you and your wife fight about?” she asks him. 

Chris sighs. 

“It’s......it’s complicated.”

“Hey, I’m a bartender, which means that I’m a really great listener. It’s practically a job requirement. You might feel better if you talk about it.” 

“We’re trying to have a baby.”

“Soo....what’s the problem. Trying is the fun part!” 

“We’ve been trying for a year and a half almost, and nothing’s happening. She’s perfect; there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her that would keep her from getting pregnant, but it’s just not happening. And we both want a baby so bad, and the look on her face when......it fucking kills me.” 

He knows that he shouldn’t be telling a complete stranger all of this, especially considering who he is, but the alcohol has loosened his tongue, and if he doesn’t spill his guts to someone, he’s going to explode. 

Jo puts a soft, warm hand over his. 

“I’m sorry, That has to be tough. For both of you.” she says softly. 

“I mean, I guess I never thought that it would take actual work, you know? I assumed that ‘hey, if we just keep having sex, eventually she’s going to get pregnant’ and it would be easy. She’s getting scared and fed up and talking about adoption and fertility doctors, and I hate seeing her so stressed out and upset, and I kind of just.....I said some things and made it worse and I feel like a complete fucking jackass.” 

“What if you guys can’t have kids?” 

“As much as I want to have kids with her, I don’t need them to be happy. As long as I have Kelly in my life, I’ll be perfectly happy. Do I want to be a dad? Yeah, absolutely. But there are so many kids out there that need good homes, so there are other options, but I don’t think that we’re there yet, you know?”

I get up and storm out of the room with Chris right on my heels. 

“Kelly, wait, please.....”

He touches my arm and I spin around to face him, and the look in my eyes makes him fall back a step. 

I’m so pissed off and hurt right now I could spit nails. 

“You......you told her.....EVERYTHING. You told her.....EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING, Chris! Do you even......do you even fucking understand what you did? Like.....” 

I squat down close to the floor and put my head between my knees. My heart is pounding and I’m so worked up that I’m afraid I’m going to pass out if I don’t calm down. And I’m not going anywhere or doing anything until I get the whole damn story. 

“Look, I know-” 

I look up at him incredulously. 

“No! No, you don’t know! You don’t know shit! You fucking betrayed me, in every single sense of the word. You didn’t just fuck her, you told her, a complete stranger, about me. About us trying to have a baby. You told her about things that you never even fucking bothered to tell me! Do you realize that she could go to the press? She could go and spill all of these juicy little secrets that you spilled to her over shots of Jack and have herself a nice little pay day.”

“Kelly, you wanted to know what happened that night, so I’m telling you what happened, despite everything inside of me screaming at me not to. I’m not going to lie to you or keep things from you. You wanted to know everything.” Chris says. 

I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth so hard that my jaw hurts. 

“I can’t look at you right now. I need a break.” I tell him, grabbing my jacket. I grab Dodger’s leash off the peg in the hallway and call for him. 

Dodger trots over, tongue lolling out of his mouth, happy to be going on a walk. 

“I’ll be back in a while.” 

Forty five minutes later, I’m in the utility room stripping off my wet clothes after getting Dodger dry and wiping off his paws. 

Chris stops pacing the kitchen when he sees me walking through the house in my bra and underwear. 

“What happened to your clothes?” he asks. 

“Dodger saw a squirrel and got excited and kind of dragged me through a snow bank.” I sigh. I throw my clothes in the dryer and make my way into our room to get changed. 

“Dodge, come on.....” Chris admonishes. Dodger just jumps up on the bed and curls up. 

I throw on a pair of gray sweatpants and a blue Patriots hoodie that’s hung over the back of the chair in our room and sit down on the side of the bed. 

“I want to know the rest.” I tell Chris. 

He sits down heavily on the end of the bed. 

“No, you don’t.” 

I swallow thickly. “You’re right. I don’t. But it doesn’t matter, because you’re going to tell me anyway.” 

Hours pass with Jo and Chris laughing and talking and flirting back and forth, until it’s 1am and the bar closes for the night. 

“Thanks for sticking around and hanging out tonight. I think I would have died of sheer boredom if you hadn’t.” Jo laughs softly. She offered to walk him back to his room as he was pretty well drunk and a little unsteady on his feet. 

“It was no problem. I didn’t really want to be alone tonight to be honest. I used to do really well on my own. I was used to it, and then......I wasn’t alone.” Chris tells her. 

Once they reach his room, they linger outside for a few minutes, both of them not really wanting the night to end. Jo steps closer to him, knowing exactly what she wants and completely unashamed about it. 

“You should kiss me.” she says softly, looking up at him with big doe eyes. She places her hands on his chest and instead of immediately backing away like he should have, he leans into her touch. 

Chris closes his eyes as he feels his mouth go dry and a strange fluttery feeling in his stomach. He hasn’t really felt this way since....

He opens his eyes and breathes out deeply. “I can’t. I’m married. I’m married and I’m insanely in love with my wife.” 

“So? You should kiss me anyway. I can tell you want to. You’ve been flirting with me all night.” she says, taking a step closer. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. You need a way to release all this tension you’ve got, and I’m more than willing to help you out anyway I can.” 

Before his brain can scream at him to stop, he’s wrapping his arms around her and covering her mouth with his, kissing her soundly. It’s a battle of teeth and tongues, both of them trying to take control from the other. Without breaking apart, Chris manages to get his key card out of his pocket and gets the door open, pushing both of them through it and slamming it behind them. 

“This never goes beyond this room. We never talk about this ever again.” Chris gasps, pulling away from her just long enough to get the words out. 

“Absolutely.” she agrees. 

Clothes are torn off and tossed to the floor in a frenzy, and as soon as Chris drops his pants and boxers, Jo sinks to her knees and takes him in her mouth, swallowing him almost all the way down. 

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Christ, yes, just like that.” he moans out. 

He brings his right hand to her hair, holding it in a makeshift ponytail while his left hand goes to her shoulder. 

She almost makes him lose his mind with the things she can do with her tongue, and within minutes, he’s fucking her face roughly as spit runs down her chin and tears are springing to her eyes from the assault on her throat, but she loves it. She has the man she’s fantasized about for years shoving his cock down her throat, and she’s never been more turned on in her life. She smirks to herself as she wonders if his wife ever sucks him off like THIS. 

When he can’t stand it anymore, Chris pulls her off his dick and takes a few deep breaths. 

“I need a condom.” 

“Right. I have one in my purse.” she tells him as she reaches for her bag and finds it and hands it to him. 

“Get on the bed. On your hands and knees.” he says roughly. While her mouth was wrapped around him, he was mesmerized and couldn’t look away, but now he finds that he doesn’t even want to look at her face. He rolls the condom over his cock, giving it a few strokes before sinking into her from behind.

Tears stream down my face as I process all of what Chris just told me, and I can’t even BREATHE with how devastated I feel. It’s like a hole just got punched through my chest. I try and take a breath in, but it turns into a strangled sob and I drop my head into my hands and just let it out. 

Chris swallows thickly, wiping away his own tears as he watches me fall apart  across from him, wishing that he could do something.....ANYTHING to take all the pain away. To go back and undo everything that he did so you wouldn’t hurt. All he feels is deep, unrelenting shame and he knows in his gut that if you asked for a divorce after hearing all of his sins laid bare, he wouldn’t be surprised or even have the right to be devastated. He made his bed. 

I feel bile rising in my throat, and I stumble to my feet and race to the downstairs bathroom, falling to my knees and vomiting painfully as the image of my husband kissing this woman and fucking her run through my head. I barely notice Chris come into the bathroom until I feel him pulling my hair back and securing it with a hair tie, and rubbing my back softly. I can’t even find the breath or the energy to tell him to get away from me and drop dead. 

I’m so damn tired. Like, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this level of physical and mental exhaustion before. I sink back into the pillows a little more, and look over at Chris. Neither one of us have said a word since he picked me up off the bathroom floor and stood there with his arm around my waist as I brushed my teeth. That was 45 minutes ago. 

“It was just sex?” I ask. 

He exhales. “It was just sex. It was just once.”

I look back up at the ceiling and try and make sense of everything. 

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of it. I don’t understand why you would sleep with another woman.”

“I-I don’t know. I was lonely because we were fighting, and I missed you so goddamn much, and I was afraid of what was happening to us with all of the stress and I just......I got drunk, and I did a horrible thing. I did a horrible thing, and I wish that I could take it back. I wish I could take it back so bad it hurts. But I can’t. And I have to live with that for the rest of my life.” Chris says. 

I lift my eyes to meet his. “You were lonely? That’s your excuse? You were lonely, and you were upset. So you stuck your dick in another woman.” 

I stand at the kitchen sink and drain a glass of water in record time, and refill it. Turns out crying all day and then puking can kind of dehydrate you. I can sense Chris behind me, even though he doesn’t say anything. 

“Two years ago, a couple of weeks after you left for Africa to start shooting the movie, I found out I was pregnant. We hadn’t even officially started trying yet, so it came as a pretty big surprise. But I was so happy, and I couldn’t wait to tell you. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone, especially when you were so far away, so I was going to surprise you when you came home. I had it all planned out. I practiced telling you standing in front of the bathroom mirror, just so I could see the stupid happy look on my face.”

I feel tears prick my eyes, and I swallow down the sob that I feel threatening to come out. I turn towards Chris, and the look on his face is heartbreaking. 

“What?” he breathes out. 

“I was at a job.....I was shooting a birthday party for a little girl who was turning one. All I could think about was that that was going to be us eventually, and it made me so happy. Everything was fine, but then I started having horrible pain in my stomach. It got so bad that I collapsed, and the parents called 911 when they realized that I was bleeding. They did an ultrasound at the hospital, but they couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat. I had already miscarried. You don’t know anything about feeling lonely until you’re by yourself laying on a table with your feet in stirrups while a doctor cleans out your uterus.”

Chris is sunk down in one of the kitchen chairs with his hand over his mouth and tears running down his face. This is the first time he’s hearing any of this. 

“Why didn’t-” his voice cracks, and he takes a minute and clears his throat before he tries again. “Why the hell didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come home!”

“Chris, you were 8,000 miles away from home. There wasn’t anything you could do. It was too late. They had to do the procedure as soon as possible. I didn’t.....I hadn’t told anyone else that I was pregnant. And I didn’t want to call your mom or sisters because I didn’t want them to find out. I knew if they found out they would call you, and you would be devastated. And I couldn’t do that to you when you were so far away. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I was trying to protect you.”

The sound of his fist slamming against the heavy oak table makes me jump. 

“And what about over the last two years? Huh? Don’t you think that I had a right to know? Don’t you think I had the right as your husband, to be there with you? To comfort you? To mourn with you? To even have a fucking clue about what happened?” 

I take a deep breath. 

“You did.  You should have been there. You should have been there with me to hold my hand and cry with me and tell me that it was going to be okay, even though it was a lie. But you weren’t. You were doing your job. I don’t know if you realize it, but when you leave for work or press or whatever it is that you have to leave me for, you’re not the only one who’s lonely. You’re not the only one who has to deal with the silence. But you don’t see me going out and fucking someone else.”

Tears start to swim in my eyes again, and I suddenly feel like if I don’t get out of the house right now, I’m going to suffocate. I’ve been in here with Chris literally all day while we picked apart his affair, and I’m exhausted. I’m hurt and emotional and talking about the baby that we lost just made everything worse.

“I’m gonna go. I just.....I can’t handle anything else today. I know you’re probably really pissed off at me right now, and honestly, the feeling is mutual. Things are already about as bad as they can be, so I’m gonna leave before we have a chance to make it worse.”

The last thing I see before I walk out the door is Chris sitting at the table with his head in his hands, sobbing while Dodger sits on the floor next to him, whining in distress.  

 The Usual Suspects: @averyrogers83 @wordywarriorwrites @imanuglywombat @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @hlkwrites @reminiscingrogers @mom—nicole @jtargaryen18 @alexakeyloveloki @kelbabyblue @sarahp879 @moonlessnight14 @mojean13 @mrskokitztelford @artisticrogers1972 @southerngracela @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @mybesttobobcratchit @gracethegeek9902 @mdemontespan1667 @marvelfansworld @capslut2014 @dispatchvampire @jamielea81 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @southerngracela​ @what-is-your-plan-today @letsdisneythings​ @theladybiers @lexeeehhh @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ @autumnrose40 @donutloverxo​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @jessaywahh-blog​@smediumsmeatbae @before-we-get-started​ @lizette50 @littlegasps @rageshots @what-is-your-backupplan-today @clairebubbles @patzammit @sweet--catrastophe @pandaxnienke @redhairedfeistynerd @hails270105 @syms-things-5 @chezdricks @denisemarieangelina @christ0pher-evans @supersquirrel1996 @thumbeliina​

[sequinsmile-x]

Guardian

A mini fic, that is largely fluffy. Because lord knows we all need it. 

Words: 2.5k (not as mini as I first intended)

Warnings: Minor mention of injury, some curse words because of Emily’s potty mouth

Emily hated paperwork. It was, without a doubt, the most boring part of her job. She would usually spend days like this teasing Aaron, sending him texts throughout the day and watching him through the blinds of his office as he pretended not to react, letting the tension build until they got home. 

“Where is our fearless leader?” Penelope asks as she stands by Emily’s desk, a file in hand. 

“He’s at a parent teacher conference.” Emily answers, smiling at her friend. “Jack was thrilled that he was in town for it.” 

“You didn’t go?” Penelope asks, curiosity on her face. Their relationship was something that fascinated the rest of the team, Emily knew that. They always tried to tease details out of her, acting as if her and Aaron weren’t two intensely private people. It had only got worse since they had moved in together, a house they had bought for them both to have a fresh start in. 

“We thought it would be pushing it if both of us took the afternoon out.” Emily answers, almost feeling relief when her cell phone rings. “Agent Prentiss.” 

“I’m calling to speak to Emily Prentiss?”

“Speaking.”

“My name is Natalie, I’m a nurse at Saint Sebastian Hospital, you’re listed as the next of kin for Aaron Hotchner?” 

Emily felt like the air had been knocked out of her. “He’s my boyfriend. Is he ok?” 

“He was involved in a car accident this afternoon, he’s been brought in.”

“Oh my god.” Emily exclaims, feeling the eyes of the rest of the team on her. “His son, Jack Hotchner, would have been with him. Is he ok?”

“I’m really sorry ma’am, I’m not at liberty to discuss any other patients.” 

Emily bites back a retort, a demand to know about Jack, but she knows she won’t get anywhere over the phone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She hangs up the phone, tries to ignore the way her hands shake 

“Everything ok there, princess?” Derek asks, as Penelope places a hand on her shoulder. 

“Aaron’s been in an accident, Jack must have been with him but they wouldn’t tell me anything.” She stands, knocking Penelope’s hand off of her. “I need to go to the hospital, I need to see him.” 

“I’ll drive you.” Derek says, standing himself. 

“Derek, I’m fine.”

“Em, I am not letting you drive there. Ok? Hotch would never forgive me.” 

Emily looks at him and nods, letting him guide her out of the bullpen.

________________

She approaches the nurses station, her body practically vibrating with different worse case scenarios over what could have happened to Aaron and Jack. 

“Hi, I got a call about Aaron Hotchner.” She tries to keep her voice even and knows she has failed when Derek throws her a concerned look.

The nurse smiles reassuringly at her whilst looking at something on her computer. “He has just been sent back for some scans, but he’s doing ok. He was even arguing with my colleagues about how much he didn’t need to be here. He should be out in about 10 minutes.” 

Emily breaths out a sigh of relief at that and feels Derek pat her back. 

“See, Emily. Hotch is fine. Everything will be ok.” 

“What about his son, Jack? He would have been in the car with him.” Emily says, her eyes searching the waiting room for the young boy. 

“Are you his mother?” 

Emily falters. “No. I’m not. I’m his dad’s girlfriend. I live with them.” 

The nurse smiles at her again, but this time it seems forced. “I’m really sorry Ms…”

“Prentiss.” She says through slightly clenched teeth. “Agent Prentiss.” 

“Agent Prentiss.” The nurse corrects herself, a slightly nervous look on her face. “I can only let a parent or guardian see him. If you aren’t his mom I’m going to have to ask you to-”

“His mom is dead.” Emily says, harsher than she intended to. She blows out a breath before she continues, attempting to calm herself down a little. “His aunt, Jessica Brooks, is out of town.” Emily says, desperately trying to keep her cool. She reaches into her bag, pulls out her wallet and slams her driving license on the table between her and the nurse, pointing out her place of residence. “I live in the same house as him. I poured him a bowl of cheerios this morning.”

“Agent Prentiss.” The nurse says, her voice remaining so patient Emily wanted to vault over the table between them and hit her. “Be that as it may, you are not his legal guardian, so I cannot let you back there to see him until his father is here.” 

Emily has another idea, and reaches for the FBI credentials she has on her belt, but Derek stops her. His hand grabs her arm before she can threaten someone in a way that her boyfriend would have to reprimand her for as her boss later. 

“Princess, come on.” Derek says as he gently pulls her towards the waiting area. “Let’s just sit down and chill out.” 

Emily sits in one of the plastic chairs and puts her head in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. Derek puts his hand on her back, rubs comforting circles between her shoulder blades. Time moves like syrup, and the fear of not seeing either Jack or Aaron burns through her. She eventually checks the time on her watch and blows out a breath. 

“This is fucking bullshit.” She seethes. “Jack will be back there by himself. God knows where Aaron is.” She says, her voice wavering at the mention of her boyfriend. “They said he’d only be 10 minutes at least half an hour ago.” 

“Jack will be fine.” Derek tries to comfort. “He’s a good kid.” 

“He is 8, Derek.” She bites at her thumb, worrying the cuticle between her teeth. “This is ridiculous. I live with him. I make him breakfast every morning.” 

“Pouring cereal into a bowl hardly counts as making breakfast, Em.” He says, trying to lighten her mood. She sharply turns her head to look at him, a warning look on her face that has him holding his hands up in surrender. “Ok I get it, no jokes.” 

She lowers her gaze back to her lap. “Do you know it’s me that Jack wants if he’s sick, or hurt?” She asks, and briefly looks at him to see him shake his head.”

“Em?” 

She looks up to see Aaron walking towards them. If Emily had been at 100%, if the fear coursing through her veins hadn’t been so sharp, she would have noticed the stiffness in his walk, how much pain he was clearly in. The relief that flooded through her was so fast she almost felt dizzy. 

“Aaron.” Emily was up and in his arms before she knew what was happening, hitting his body with a force that made him grunt, knocking the air out of him as she wraps her arms around him tightly. She pulls back. “Oh god, I’m sorry.” 

“Em, it’s fine. My ribs are sore, that's all.” He puts a hand on her lower back and stops her from pulling away any further, her eyebrow raised in disbelief. His voice is strained, discomfort laced through it. She lifts her hand to trace her fingers over a bandaged cut on his forehead just above his eyebrow. “My head hit the steering wheel.” He grabs her hand from his face and presses a kiss to her fingers, a promise that they will talk about it later, once they are home. “Where’s Jack?”

Emily scoffs, a look shot back at the nurse who was still at the nurses station. “They wouldn’t let me see him.” She clears her throat as she looks back at her boyfriend. “I’m not his guardian.” 

Another moment of silent discussion passes between them, something else they can talk about later when they are alone. When they are safe at home and their every move wasn’t being watched by Derek, curiosity on his face at how they were around each other that they both hadn’t missed. 

“He was ok when we came in.” He assures her, seeing how concerned she looked. “They were going to look at his arm, it looked broken.” 

Emily nods, some of the concern seeping away. Aaron links his fingers through hers and gives Derek a nod as they walk past him, a silent thank you for looking after Emily when he couldn’t. Aaron approaches the nurses station and clears his throat, getting the attention of the same nurse who Emily had spoken to earlier.

“I’d like to see my son, Jack Hotchner.” 

They are quickly taken to Jack who looks just as relieved to see them as they do to see him, and they sit with him as he gets an arm cast put on. Aaron sits in a chair, failing to cover the wince that escapes him as he lowers himself into it. Emily sits next to Jack on the bed, wrapping an arm around him and pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he tries to be brave, pretending he hadn’t been crying whilst waiting for them to come get him. 

Jack burrows into Emily’s side as the doctors gently wrap his arm, and she can’t help herself when she throws the same nurse who refused her access to Jack a look when she walks by the bay they are in. 

________________

Emily convinces Aaron to go grab a shower as she tucks Jack in for the night, his arm in it’s bright green cast resting on a pillow. It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep, the stress of the day taking all of the endless energy he usually had. Emily sneaks out of the room, gently pulling the door closed behind her as she goes. 

She sighs as she walks the short distance to the master bedroom, the shower still running in the ensuite. Emily sits on the end of the bed and puts her head in her hands, tries to force back the emotion that was threatening to overwhelm her, the knowledge of what she could have lost today settling over her now they were home. Emily hears the shower switch off and she blows out a breath, trying to centre herself.

Emily can’t stop the gasp that escapes when he walks out, just with a pair of sweatpants on, and she sees the extent of the damage for the first time. The bruise across his chest caused by the seat belt looked painful, his ribs almost black, clearly fractured.

“Aaron.” She says softly, her hand reaching out but stopping just shy of actually touching him. 

“It’s ok, Em.” He grabs the hand she's got hovering near him and intertwines their fingers, squeezes her hand in a way she’s sure is meant to be reassuring.

“Ok?” She asks, scoffing at him. “You clearly have broken ribs, Aaron.” She shakes her head at him, interrupts him when he tries to placate her again. “Nothing about today was ok.” 

Aaron cups her face in both hands, wiping away a tear that she wasn’t aware had fallen until his thumb stroked her cheek. 

“Emily, Jack and I are both fine.” He leans forward and kisses her forehead, and she brings her hands to his wrists, stroking the delicate skin there. “We’re a little banged up, but nothing that won’t get better.”

She nods against him. “I...I know I’m not his mother.” She pulls away to smile at him, and she bites her lip in an attempt to stop it from shaking. “But not being able to see Jack today really sucked. I live with him, I love him, Aaron. I should be able to see him when he’s hurt.”

“Em-”

“If you’d been hurt worse, or killed.” Emily feels more tears fall at that, shakes her head at herself. “I wouldn’t have been able to go to him.” 

“Emily.” He strokes her cheek again, a smile on his face that always calmed her. “I agree with you.” 

She furrows her brow, having clearly expected more of a pushback. “What?”

“We should make you his legal guardian. We probably should have done it when we got the house.”

“Really?” I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take Haley’s place.”

“Sweetheart, you have never done that. You love my son, and he loves you. It makes me love you more. We’ll get it sorted.” 

“I love you.” She says, leaning forward to kiss him, keeping it brief and laughing when she pulls away from him when he tries to kiss her again. “Don’t get any ideas, Agent Hotchner. Those ribs of yours have put you out of action for quite some time.” She laughs at him as she pulls herself out of his embrace. “I’m going to get changed for bed.” 

Emily grabs some pyjamas and busies herself in the ensuite, ignoring his shirt in the hamper that had his blood on it. She goes about her evening routine, takes off her makeup and brushes her teeth, piling her hair on top of her head in a messy bun. She sighs as she looks at herself in the mirror, taking in just how tired she looked. All she wanted to do was get in bed with her boyfriend, make sure he took a painkiller he’d probably attempt to say he didn’t need, and fall asleep. 

When she walks in and finds him sitting on the edge of his side of the bed, still only in his sweatpants, with a small velvet box in his hands it stops her in her tracks. 

“Aaron.” 

“I had a whole plan.” He says, looking up at her. He stays sat on the bed, and she knows it’s partially because he’d be in too much pain to stand up. “It seems silly now.” 

“It’s not silly.” Emily says, her throat feeling like it was constricting, the emotion rising in her chest. She stands in front of him, catches the hand not holding the ring box in hers. She links their fingers.

“I’d get down on one knee but I don’t think I’d ever get back up.” Aaron jokes, and it makes her choke out a laugh that becomes a sob on its way out. 

“That’s ok.” Emily sits next to him on the bed.

He opens the box and she gasps when she sees the ring. Simple, platinum band with a good sized single diamond. Exactly what she would have picked herself. 

“Emily, marry me.” 

She laughs. “I think it’s meant to be a question, honey.” 

Aaron smiles at her, his dimples out on display. “Will you marry me?” 

“Of course I will.” She replies, cupping his cheek in her hand. “Yes.” 

He kisses her, and she responds, pushing herself closer to him, her hand travelling to the back of his head. They both get lost in it for a moment until he groans in pain, making her pull back from him. 

“I didn’t think this all the way through.” He says, smiling at her as he pulls the ring out of the box and slips it onto her finger. “My plans involved celebrating with a lot of sex.” 

Emily laughs and rests her forehead against his. “All in good time my love.” 

[estrel]

for @ickyv29​ ‘s prompt: Claire taking Jack out of the bunker so Cas and Dean can set up a surprise party? Chaos ensues. 

here you go !! jack looks like he’s in his teens for this one, but he did that just to hang out w claire god bles <3 also falls into transnatural,, you’ll see why (^:

It’s always spooky seeing Jack age up in front of her very eyes. One second he’s practically just a step up from a toddler, and the next, Jack is taller than Claire and wearing the exact same goofy smile on his face.

She supposes the one good thing that comes out of it is that none of them have to guess at what he’ll look like in the future when he’s older. He still looks just the same as he does when he’s three feet tall or whatever, except that maybe he seems a little calmer, and Claire feels a little more comfortable talking to him as if they’re friends rather than...half...step...siblings? 

Which is why she agrees to take care of him for the day, with the intention of showing him her favorite “grown up” spots, though she promises Dean that everything they’re doing will be kosher.

It’s not.

“Okay Jack,” Claire claps a hand on his shoulder, much sturdier than the one she’s used to poking at when they’re playing with legos on the Bunker floor. “Are you ready to be a big kid now?”

He nods fervently and she smiles, pulling a little on his shirt sleeve so that he’ll follow her into the mall.

The grown up spots she intends to take Jack to are mild, at best. She just thinks he should be able to get the full teenage experience, even if she never really did, and he isn’t really a teen. 

The first place they stop at is Claire’s, rightfully so. Jack, like everyone else she has ever known, points at the sign and nudges her. She expects the usual comment about “they named you after the store,” but instead he says, “They named the store after you,” and she nods her head in agreement.

“Sure did,” she says, “how do you feel about getting your ears pierced?”

They step inside, and Jack takes in all the rows of merchandise. “Pierced? Won’t Dad and Dee and Sam get mad?” 

Claire shrugs, watching Jack’s eyes light up when he sees the over-the-top girly accessories. “No big deal, you can always just heal the holes right up with your super powers, can’t you?” 

She calls Jack’s nephil magic “super powers” to please him, under the guise that it makes more sense to passerby if she’s talking to a four year old about super powers rather than angel mojo. 

It does the job, so he agrees, and the next thing she knows, they’re walking out of Claire’s with a bag full of flowery headwear and Jack’s two pierced ears.

Claire would be lying if she said her heart wasn’t racing thinking about the potential lecture she’d receive from Jack’s dads. But it was worth it to see Jack look at her like she hung the moon, a hand constantly raising to touch tentatively at his ears. 

“Next up,” she announces, “mani-pedis.”

“What’s that?”

Claire holds out her hand, chipped with black nail polish. “Nail painting. You’re gonna love it.”

She’s not really the type to get a manicure—in fact, Claire’s probably only had one in her life when she was like eight—but half of these (all of these) activities are more so to cater to Jack on his birthday, and the stuff he’d enjoy (and also whatever would piss off Dean the most).

And she’s right—Jack loves the little foot bath with the fancy water jets, and giggles the whole time the lady is scrubbing at his feet and nails. He enthusiastically asks for rainbow colors (a different color on each finger and toe), and Claire has to explain that he’s gotta wait patiently for them to dry or else they’ll get messed up.

“Do you like the rainbows?” Jack asks, showing them to her when they leave. She gets a feeling there’s a certain importance to the question that she’s missing, but she nods and gives him a careful fist bump. “Rainbows are sick,” she says.

“Sick,” Jack repeats, “that’s not good. Do they need medicine? What do they have?”

Claire snorts and waves him off, “No, dummy. Sick like...’cool.’”

“Ohhh,” Jack visually internalizes that thought for safekeeping, “sick.”

Claire checks her phone while they stuff their faces with mall pizza, quickly answering Kaia’s messages with a smile, assuring Jody that all is well, and sending Dean snarky comments about their surprise party taking forever to set up.

She sets her phone down to pay attention to Jack again, only to find him staring at her already, a contemplative look in his face.

“Uh...do I have food on my face or something?”

Jack shakes his head. “I had a...question.”

Oh. She leans her elbows on the table, crossing her forearms. “Okay, shoot.”

“You like girls,” he starts, and she hides an amused smirk, “and Dad and Dee like each other...but. I don’t like anybody yet because I’m not old enough and I don’t know anyone my age.”

You’re also a four year old half-angel being that’s presenting like he’s eighteen, she wants to supply, but Claire only shrugs. “You don’t gotta like anybody kiddo. Sometimes people just want friends, and that’s fine.”

He nods seriously, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay. But what about... me?”

“What about you?”

“Well I’m...I like boy things,” he says, “but I like girl things too. Does that mean I’m like Dee?”

“Bisexual?” Claire supplies, and then scrunches her face up a little, “like you said, bud, I think you’re too young to tell--”

“I know,” he chirps, and then studies his nails. “I don’t mean like that. I mean...I like those things... for me. Like, tutus and capes and man-ee-cures, and cowboy hats.”

Claire takes a second to think it over, and then it all clicks. “Oh! You mean your gender, right?”

“I think so,” he says. 

“Well all that stuff you listed has to do with gender expression. And really, anyone can dress or look however they want, regardless of pronouns or orientation. But...put it this way, would it make you feel better if people referred to you as ‘she’ and ‘her?’“

Jack shakes his head. “No...”

“Do you like ‘he’ and ‘him’?” A nod. “What about ‘they’ and ‘them’?” There’s a pause, Jack mulling it over, before he nods.

“Is it okay to have more than one?” 

“Totally okay.”

“Then yes,” they sit straighter, “I like both.”

“Cool,” Claire smiles, holding up a fist for another fist bump. Jack knocks their knuckles against hers. 

“Sick,” he agrees. 

Just then her phone starts to buzz, lighting up with a text from Cas that says ‘we’re done. you can come back now (:’ 

She looks back up at Jack with their pierced ears and rainbow nail polish.

“On second thought,” she says, standing and offering her hand, “I think they’ll love it.”

[candy-and-writing]

Loose Ankles

This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Pre-Code Writing Challenge. I chose the movie Loose Ankles, where a young woman discovers she has inherited her grandmother’s fortune, but only if she can find and marry a man.

Summary: The night of Harlan’s birthday party, Harlan tells Ransom he’s cutting his family out of his will. No one will get a single red dime. But, still seeing potential in his grandson, Harlan offers Ransom a deal.

Warnings: smut, 18+, oral sex, tipsy sex, fingering, unprotected sex, choking, low-key Dom Ransom, fluff, Ransom discovering love and not knowing what to do

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. 

Ransom sped down the road, rage seething inside him as he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Harlan fucking Thrombey just kicked his family to the curb, his eldest grandson included.

Marta fucking Cabrera was inheriting his fortune. Harlan’s Brazilian nurse. Jesus, this all felt like a bad joke.

But, of course, Harlan wouldn’t just stop there. No, he wanted to make Ransom suffer.

If he could settle down and establish himself, ‘find a nice girl’ as Harlan so blatantly described it, he would give Ransom back his cut of the inheritance. It made Ransom’s blood boil just thinking about it. Ransom Drysdale didn’t date. He didn’t do domesticity. The old man knew that. 

But if it meant he could get his stupid money back, he would do whatever it took. As he pulled into the bar, taking a deep breath, he took his keys out the ignition. He needed a drink if he was going to do this. 

Ransom sat at the bar, nursing his fourth whiskey. There were a couple different girls who looked appealing, all of which Harlan would never approve of. He fished the cherry out of his now-empty glass, waving at the bartender for another drink.

Drumming his fingers on the wood top bar, Ransom caught eyes with a young woman in a booth across the room. You were young, with red painted lips that contrasted beautifully to the black dress you wore. It was modest, the neckline tickling your collarbone and the hem of the dress reaching your knees. A pair of flats donned your feet. You quickly looked away, cheeks flushed and Ransom smiled. You were perfect. Three other people sat in the booth with you, another girl and two guys. You sipped on a glass of rose-tinted wine, your eyes dodging back to Ransom every so often, darting away as soon as you saw he was already looking at you.

Ransom waited almost three hours. The other girl had left with one of the guys, leaving you with the second guy. You didn’t look like you were enjoying yourself—you were fiddling with your thumbs under the table and tapping your foot, smiling awkwardly as the guy laughed at something he said. Something about his dad’s boat. He not-so-subtly kept looking at girls’ asses as they pasted your table, ignoring whatever you were trying to say.

Ransom heard the guy say he was going to the bathroom. Five minutes later Ransom saw him leaving with his arm wrapped around some girl’s waist. You saw it, too. Your face fell. You got up and put a few bills on the table, walking up to the bar. You sat a few seats from him, waving down the bartender.

“Can I get an Amaretto Sour?” you asked, your voice soft and quiet. The bartender nodded as he walked away, grabbing a bottle of Amaretto. You sighed, resting your hand on your chin. Ransom got up, moving to sit in the chair next to you.

“Hey.” He smirked, earning himself a pair of wide eyes and flustered cheeks.

“Um—hi.” You gave him a tentative smile. You thanked the bartender as he handed you your drink, taking a quick sip.

“I saw what happened,” Ransom said. “That guy’s a dick.”

You let out a breathless chuckle. “Yeah, he was. That’s what I get for trusting my best friend’s boyfriend, though.”

Ransom smiled, downing the last of his whiskey. He let out a breath, setting his glass down. He watched as you played with the string of pearls hanging around your neck.

“I’m Ransom Drysdale,” he smirked. You told him your name, a sheepish smile spreading over your lips. He repeated your name, testing the way it felt on his tongue. “Can I buy you another drink?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I’d like that.”

You were drunk by the time the bartender kicked you two out. Ransom invited you home with him, his hand resting on your thigh. Your cheeks flushed a bright red, the blush trailing down your neck and to your ears. Ransom smirked at how cute you were, innocent in the way that had his cock throbbing.

“Yeah,” you said. “Sure.”

–

Ransom pushed you up against the door of his house, his lips moving against yours possessively. You whimpered as his hips rutted up against yours, Ransom thrusting his tongue into your mouth. He struggled to fit his key into the lock, turning the doorknob and roughly shoving you two through the door, kicking it shut with his foot.

Ransom grabbed your ass and squeezed, moaning into your mouth. You jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist, your flats falling off your feet. He carried you up a flight of stairs, his lips working over yours. He stepped into his bedroom and dropped you on his bed, watching you bounce before he pulled his sweater over his head.

He leaned over you, kissing you as he threaded his fingers through yours, pushing them into the mattress on either side of your head. He kissed down your jaw, sucking a dark mark into your neck. He grinded his hips against your center, a gasp leaving your mouth. 

Ransom pushed the skirt of your dress up past your hips, revealing your lacy underwear. Ransom groaned, leaning down to kiss your center through your panties as he massaged your thighs. You sighed, your skin tingling. He swiftly tore the lace down your legs, his mouth latching onto your clit. You squeaked, hips jerking off the bed. He licked a long stripe up your intimate flesh, focusing the tip of his tongue on your bud, earning himself a strangled whine from you.

He devastated you with his mouth, lips latching onto your little bundle of nerves as he pressed his index finger to your entrance. He pushed inside just a little and you gasped. Ransom began to pump his finger in and out of you slowly, his tongue working your clit. 

“R—Ransom!" 

Ransom moaned against your flesh, sending vibrations up through your clit. He pushed another finger into you, your thighs clenching around his shoulders as you cried out. The pads of his fingers pushed up against your walls, pressing against a certain spot inside of you that had you choking on a moan.

You were burning up, sweat coating your forehead. The coil in your belly was curling impossibly tight, your body on fire as Ransom teased your bundle of nerves. You began to babble, endless pleas of begging until your voice cracked. Ransom smirked against you, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit and that was all it took. The coil in your stomach snapped and you screamed, your thighs trembling as your back arched off the bed. 

Ransom rode you from your high until it was just too much. You tried to pull away from him, overstimulated. You whined, your voice cracking, and Ransom finally seemed to get the message. He pulled away, his chin slick with your juices as he hooked his finger under your chin, bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, overtly earthy in a way that had you moaning into his mouth.

Ransom pulled away from you, placing a quick peck on your lips. "God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

Still blissed-out, you sighed in response, letting Ransom unzip the side of your dress and pull it over your head. He quickly discarded your bra, marveling in your body. He unbuttoned his trousers, shucking them off his legs along with his boxers.

Your breath stuttered in your lungs as Ransom’s length bobbed against his stomach. His tip was painfully red, leaking precum down his shaft. You swallowed, watching as he wrapped his fingers around his cock and pumping his fist up and down his length. He let out a shaky breath, bending down to kiss the valley of your breasts. 

The head of his cock poked at your entrance. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, pushing himself into you slowly. Even after an orgasm, you were still unbelievably tight, clutching Ransom like a vice.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight.”

You preened as he bottomed out. Ransom grunted, wrapping your legs around his hips and hugging you close to his chest, carefully rocking his hips up. His thrusts started slow and deep, keeping his pace steady until you’re writhing and mewling for more. His hand reached up and squeezed your breast, rolling his thumb between his thumb and forefinger as he sped up his pace, pounding into you in the most delicious way.

“Fuck!” you cried when Ransom hit a spot deep inside of you, his girth brushing against your walls. “Oh, God! Ransom!”

His hot breath hit your jaw as he moaned into your ear. “You feel so good, babygirl. So fucking good for me.”

His hand wrapped around your throat, pressing down slightly just below your jaw. You gasped, feeling your airway restricted. Your walls fluttered against Ransom’s cock, causing him to groan and tighten his grip on your throat. He cursed into your ear, hips bucking into you. 

You couldn’t breathe. You squirmed violently underneath his grip, whining pathetically as Ransom slammed into you punishingly. The little tears in your eyes and the little noises you make brought something out of him—he squeezed your throat tighter, watching as you writhed beneath him. 

You came with a strangled shout, seizing up and convulsing around Ransom’s length. Ransom dug his fingers into the divots of your hips so hard you were sure they were going to leave bruises. With a growl, Ransom pulled out of your slick heat, hot cum coating your stomach.

Ransom released your throat, crashing down on the bed beside you. You wheezed almost painfully, turning on your side as you caught your breath. With a huff of breath, Ransom pushed himself up, opening a door that was adjacent to the bed. You closed your eyes, still coming down from your high. Ransom came back into the room a moment later with a damp rag in hand, pressing it lightly against your stomach.

You hummed. “What’re you doin’?”

“Cleaning you up, baby, just relax." 

You rested your head back against the pillow, letting him wipe you clean. You were half asleep by the time Ransom laid down next to you, pulling the covers over the two of you. When his arm wrapped around your torso, his heat drawing you closer to sleep. 

Ransom listened to your soft and even breaths, something tingling in his chest. He knew he wasn’t going to kick you out in the morning. Something about you was different. He hadn’t had sex that good in a long time—the way you let him take control and do whatever he wanted. Most girls he brought him were needy and loud, but your cute little noises went straight to his cock. Just thinking about it made his dick twitch.

You snuggled up against him, flipping over and burying your face in his chest. 

Ransom was fucked.

–

"Are you sure this is a good idea?” you asked, fiddling with your thumbs in the passenger seat of Ransom’s Beemer. “What if they don’t like me?”

Ransom sighed out your name. “Will you stop worrying? They’ll love you. And if they don’t, they can fuck off. The only thing that matters is that I love you.”

You and Ransom had been dating for almost a year. He hadn’t talked to Harlan since the night of his birthday. It turned out you were an assistant at a publishing firm in Boston and with a little pushing from you, he published a best-selling novel. He had done everything his granddad had wanted: he established himself without the help of his family’s money and he’d found a girl. A girl he isn’t planning on letting go. Maybe that was why he hadn’t told Harlan about you—he was worried that you’d think you were disposable, that you were just a means to an end.

It was Harlan’s birthday, exactly a year since Harlan had given Ransom the ultimatum. He was surprised how excited his family was to meet you, certain they had an ulterior motive. 

He pulled into his grandad’s driveway, killing the engine. He sighed, leaning back into his seat.

“Listen,” he said. You turned to look at him, concern flashing behind your eyes. “My family is… a lot. Just don’t let them get to you, okay? They’re assholes.”

You smiled. “I know, Ran. Just calm down, everything will be okay.”

Ransom leaned over and cupped your cheek, bringing you in for a kiss. “You’re amazing.”

“Let’s go inside, okay?” You grabbed the pan of lemon bars you made and waited for Ransom to get out of the car and let him open your door for you. 

Ransom opened the front door for you and you were immediately met with shouting. Ransom helped you out of your coat and hung it up on the coat rack by the door, rolling his eyes as Linda’s shrill voice echoed through the house.

“C'mon, I’ll show you to the kitchen.”

You set your pan on a beautiful granite countertop as Ransom opened a cupboard. He fished out some expensive brand of cookies just as someone stomped into the kitchen.

“Ransom?” It was Richard. “Hey, when did you get here?”

“Two minutes ago, you’d know that if you weren’t all busy screaming at each other,” Ransom retorted, popping a cookie into his mouth. Richard frowned, about to open his mouth when he noticed you hiding behind Ransom.

“Hello, you must be Ransom’s girlfriend?” You nodded, smiling at him. You told him your name, stepping around the countertop to shake his hand. “Well, why don’t you come into the living area and meet the family, we’ve all been dying to meet you.”

–

Dinner was loud. You were sitting between Ransom and Ransom’s cousin—Meg. Meg kept picking fights with her other cousin, Jacob, who was always on his phone. Linda was yelling at Joni, Meg’s mother, who was going on about her Instagram.

Ransom kept mostly quiet, laughing when he found something amusing. His hand had taken place on your thigh, complimenting you on your lemon bars. You smiled at him, nibbling on a carrot. 

After Linda served Harlan’s birthday cake, everyone moved to the living area. You took the chance to refill your wine glass, quickly disappearing to the kitchen. You found an expensive red wine and filled your glass halfway, taking a small sip. 

“Hello, my dear.” You jumped, turning around quickly. Harlan Thrombey stood a few feet away from you, holding a piece of cake in his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s alright,” you smiled. “I just needed a refill. I’m not hiding in here, or anything.”

“I’d understand if you were.” Harlan chuckled. “I love my family, but they are… a lot. Ransom seems to be doing well, uncharacteristically so.”

“Yeah,” you laughed breathlessly. “He… he was really worried about bringing me here. He doesn’t talk about his family a lot, and when he does, it’s you—I think he was worried about his parents being judgemental.”

Harlan nodded. “Ransom has done well for himself. I hear he’s writing a second book?”

“He is, started working on it a couple weeks ago.”

“And he has a beautiful young woman. I’m glad he finally managed to get his life straightened out.”

You smiled. “Me too.”

“Hey.” Ransom entered the kitchen, carefully walking past Harlan. “You disappeared, I got worried. Everything okay?”

You nodded. “I just needed a refill.”

Linda started shouting for Harlan from the living room. Harlan rolled his eyes, excusing himself before he left the kitchen. Ransom looked down at you, raising an eyebrow.

“What was he talking to you about?”

“Relax, Ransom. He was just telling me how proud he was of you.”

You watched as Ransom let out a breath of relief. You two left the kitchen and sat on a couch in the living area, listening in shock as Richard and Joni discussed politics. At some point during the night, Harlan called Ransom into his study. He kissed your cheek before he got up, closing the door to the study behind him.

–

“What did Harlan want to talk to you about?” you asked Ransom, pulling on Ransom’s old sweater. It had shrunk in the wash and you stole it before Ransom could throw it out.

“He just talked about you, mostly,” Ransom told you. “Said he was proud of me for growing up, for finding someone like you, etcetera. Just stuff like that.”

You smiled, crawling onto the bed to kiss his cheek. “I really like your family. They’re… eccentric.”

Ransom laughed. “Babe, they’re a bunch of dicks. Don’t try to sugarcoat it.”

You sighed. “I like Harlan. He doesn’t deal with anyone’s bullshit.”

“That he does not. Now, come here.” Ransom grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap, kissing you. You threaded your fingers through his short hair, moaning into his mouth. He quickly flipped you onto your back and straddled your hips, pressing your hands to the mattress. You laughed, Ransom leaning down to kiss you again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[butgilinsky]

blueberry pancakes // rc

part two | series masterlist

warning; language, angst

summary; y/n and jj get into a fight on the beach when the kooks approach her

word count; 2.2k+

her phone had been blowing up all morning, on top of the texts and calls she got last night. y/n knew she was going to walk into a burning building when she got to john b’s house the next morning, but she didn’t have much of a choice. she couldn’t bail on their plans just to hide from the inevitable conversation. 

so she parked the car, hearing laughter and conversation die out at the sound of her door shutting behind her before she walked into view of the group sitting around the hammock.  

“so she is alive!” john b called out, a smile on his face while the others had either annoyed or worried expressions. 

“we thought you fucking died, dude. where the hell were you?” y/n didn’t want to roll her eyes at kie, knowing the girl was clueless to everything y/n had felt in the past few months, but it was difficult not to. 

“i’m fine. just went home a little early.” she huffed softly before sitting beside pope, leaning her head on the boy’s shoulder. he laid his head on top of hers, not daring to interrogate the girl like the rest of her friends were about to do. 

“home early? i didn’t even know you were going back home.” jj scoffed, speculating where the girl actually would have gone. 

“well you don’t exactly ask, so how could you know?” it was harsher than she intended, but it was too late to stop herself. the words were slipping and the attitude was practically dripping from her lips. 

“what’s got you so pissy today?” he shot back, sitting up straighter to narrow his eyes at the girl that wanted nothing more than to talk about something else right now. 

“nothing, let’s talk about something else.” y/n shot john b a knowing look, to which he quickly caught onto and cleared his throat before throwing out a new topic. 

sarah looked between her boyfriend and the girl, not knowing what was going on but trying to piece it together. she, unlike the others, knew that rafe had also slipped into the house late last night, but she didn’t think it was possible for the two to be connected. 

-

y/n laid on a towel, turned up towards the sun while almost all the others were out surfing. sarah was beside her, but the two had been silent for a while so she almost forgot the girl was there. 

“you sure you’re alright?” she turned towards the blonde, smiling softly and nodding.

“yeah.” sarah nodded, even though she didn’t quite believe y/n, but she was able to tell the girl didn’t want to talk about it, and she wasn’t one to push. 

sarah looked up when her name was called out, sighing heavily before apologizing to y/n and joining her boyfriend in the ocean. y/n didn’t mind, besides the quick glance that caught sight of kie and jj sitting on their boards beside each other and laughing loudly at something. 

on days like this she usually spent a lot of time with pope, but the boy that usually saved her from being completely left out of the group was sadly held captive by his dad for the day, roped into working on the dock. so she was alone for the day, lying on her towel by herself and facing the sun for as long as she could. 

y/n looked away from her friends quickly and mumbled a string of profanities when she caught sight of an all too familiar group ready to walk past her. she let a small smile slip when she caught a certain pair of blue eyes. 

she almost expected him to look away and walk past her, ignoring the previous night and pretending it never happened, but then she remembered that the kooks never walked past her without stopping to make at least one sly remark. 

“little y/n all alone on the beach?” y/n rolled her eyes at topper, flipping him off on instinct. 

“i’m not alone, but it’s nice to know you care so much about a little pogue, top.” he laughed to himself and looked for the other pogues, not taking too long to find them. 

“who doesn’t care about the hottest pogue in town?” she scoffed loudly, prepared to completely ignore the boy standing over her, but he had other plans. 

“you should come hang out with us.” she looked at the blue eyed boy, trying to decipher which rafe she was talking to, and if this was just another dig at the pogues. despite their night at the diner, she was still unsure if rafe was going to keep the anti-pogue train running or if he’d drop the act for her. 

“yeah, come hang out with us. we were just walking anyways, so it’s not much different than what you’re already doing.” kelce surprised her, never sharing more than a few words with the girl at a time. kelce was the quieter one, not taking much interest into her or kiara despite his best friends always hitting on the two of them. 

rafe held his hand out for her but she didn’t have any time to react to it before all eight eyes snapped in the same direction. 

“is there a problem over here?” she rolled her eyes, not understanding how he could leave her alone all day long without a second thought, and suddenly pop up when someone else stops to talk to her. 

“hey, jj. no problem here. we were just asking y/n if she wanted to walk with us.” the three boys wore their best smiles, beaming brightly at the blond who scoffed quickly. 

“she doesn’t want to go anywhere with you, so fuck off, alright? go back to figure eight.” y/n sighed and ran a hand through her hair, knowing this was going to be a bigger deal than she wanted it to be. 

“well you haven’t let her answer, pogue. so why don’t you ask y/n what she wants to do instead of choosing for her.” rafe puffed his chest out, both literally and figuratively, as he spoke. 

there was no question that rafe beat almost everyone on the island when it came to size alone. the boy was tall and built, and he packed a punch. despite that, and even with his two friends at his side, y/n also knew that that jj wouldn’t hesitate to give it a shot anyways. 

“i already told you, she doesn’t want anything to do with you.” 

y/n shot up from her spot on her towel when jj stepped towards rafe, closing the distance between them slowly. y/n wedged herself between the boys, trying to avoid a conflict in broad daylight on a crowded beach.

“jj just back off, okay?” jj stared at her with wide eyes, anger shifting towards her at the simple suggestion. 

“me? are you seriously on their side?” she rolled her eyes and let out a soft laugh at his attitude shift, knowing he was oblivious to everything around him most of the time. 

“i’m not on anyone’s side, jj. i don’t want the two, or four, of you to get into a brawl in the middle of the beach, okay?” y/n tried to slyly hint at the fact that jj was wildly out numbered in this situation, but he just scoffed, not believing the words he was hearing. 

“are you serious, y/n? do you want to hang out with them or something?” 

“would that be a problem, jj?” she crossed her arms across her chest, shooting an eyebrow in the air as a silent challenge. 

“yes, y/n! they’re fucking kooks, for crying out loud!” she laughed again, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress the anger waiting to burst. 

“isn’t kiara a kook? sarah, too?” the three behind her snickered at the question, watching the way it made jj tick uncomfortably. 

“that’s entirely different, y/n-”

“is it? because to me, it seems like you’re falling for a kook. god knows i’ve had to hear about for months at this point. you and john b have been macking on kooks, so what does that leave me with, jj? can’t mack on pope ‘cause he’s a pogue. though, you’re also breaking that rule.” 

“you’re trying to mack on them?” he was yelling now, and y/n was sighing heavily. 

“no, jj, but that’s all you can see isn’t it? i can’t be friends with kooks, i can’t-”

“they’re fucking kooks, y/n. topper tried to drown john b. rafe has hit me multiple times-” 

“and i’d do it again, maybank.” y/n looked over her shoulder at the blue eyed boy, narrowing her eyes in a silent warning. 

“seriously? not helping.” she hissed softly before turning back to jj. “my point, jj-”

“i don’t care, y/n. just pick.” 

she narrowed her eyes at him, disbelief coursing through her veins at the short statement that held more weight than he expected it to. he was fuming, and she wasn’t even entirely sure why. nothing had even happened before he stormed into the conversation. 

“jj-”

“you know what, you should go with them. i think you’d have fun being a kook.” he walked past her then, shoulder colliding with hers harshly. 

she winced at the contact, pain shooting down her arm but she was able to focus on the ache in her chest more than the tingling in her shoulder. she was biting her cheek softly when john b ran up to her, confusion and hesitance in his expression. 

“what the hell is going on?” he looked between her and the kooks, but y/n waved him off. 

“i’m going to go. i’ll see you guys later, alright?” his eyes shifted between her and the kooks, that all wore smirks at the situation unfolding before them. 

“with them?” he asked and she sent him a harsh glare. 

“well sitting here by myself isn’t the most exciting activity. and it seems that i can’t speak to other human beings without it threatening my existing friendships, that are already going to shit, might i add.” she rolled up her towel and shoved it in her back quickly before slipping on the t shirt she had worn to the beach over her swimsuit. 

“y/n, seriously?” 

“you know what, i don’t want to hear it, okay? you can tell the rest that i’m leaving, and you can all crucify me for it later. you can also tell jj that he can fuck right off. next time he asks me a stupid fucking question like that, he’s going to be the one to pick.” 

she walked past john b after that, anger seeping through her pores as she stomped away from the spot. she turned over her shoulder, holding her arms out to the three boys that were still stood in place. 

“are you coming?” rafe was the first to move, a proud smirk plastered on his lips as he walked over to the girl. 

“y/n’s a badass!” topper called out with a wide smile that made it impossible for y/n not to smile back. 

rafe lifted the girl and threw her over his shoulder, ignoring the loud squeal that left her. she hit his back softly, begging him to put her down in fear that he would drop her, but he was just laughing at her. 

“rafe, please, if you drop me i swear-”

“i’m not going to drop you, princess, calm down.” he laughed gently, finding her protests funny and cute, but also trying to reassure her. 

“by the end of the day you’ll be an honorary kook, y/n.” 

the next time she heard from rafe, she was working. she was babysitting two little girls on figure eight when her phone rang, almost all the way on the other side of the room. 

“y/n! phone!” she looked at the five year old gripping her cell phone in her hands. 

“bring it here, paige.” the girl giggled while pressing her fingers on the screen, making y/n sigh heavily before she stood up, placing the infant on her hip and walking over to the older child. 

she grabbed the phone from paige’s hands and saw the little girl had accidentally answered the call from rafe. y/n sighed softly before wedging the phone between her cheek and her shoulder while bouncing the girl on her hip. 

“hi, sorry about that. don’t give your phone to a five year old.” she heard rafe laugh softly through the speaker, which almost instantly made her heart melt. 

“no worries, i was just wondering if you wanted to come out with me tonight? kelce is throwing this thing and he asked if you wanted to come. i guess you impress people easily.” she smile, finding it endearing that people were thinking of her. 

“are you asking me to be your date to a kook party, cameron?” ava - the girl on her hip - giggled, making y/n smile wider while she tickled the small girl’s stomach. 

“i guess i am.” 

“then i guess i have no choice but to accept.” she put ava on the ground, watching her crawl further into the living room to where her sister sat with building blocks. 

“great. i can pick you up at 9? when are you done babysitting?” she smiled at the small reminder that he listened to her talk about babysitting the girls just a few nights before. 

“i should be done here around 6, so 9 works great for me.” 

“great! i’ll see you at 9.” 

“see you at 9.”

--

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[haravath0t]

parol (with filipina!reader)

Warnings: angst (if you squint), immense fluff, and a big word count (sorry)

Summary: The holidays are approaching and reader shares some of her favorite Christmas traditions with Bucky as they decorate, but a little incident happens. To lighten up her spirits, James surprises her on Christmas Eve. 

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you had a great Christmas and New Year! Now with time in my hands I was able to complete this work! I rarely see any Filipina!Readers so I wrote this, as Christmas and my heritage is something I hold close to my heart. It is my first one shot, so bear with me! I hope you all enjoy!

*italics indicate flashbacks!

Today was not your day. You wanted to go home after doing reports and paperwork, surprise Bucky with a nice dinner and pumpkin pie, video call your family that lived in the Philippines to open the gifts you shipped over to them, and call it a day. However, luck was not on your side. Oversleeping, last minute additional reports, agents that were slacking off during training, misplacement of papers, everything you could never dream of happening all in one day happened. You walked over to Bucky, who was leaning against the black car waiting for you as he toyed with the car keys. “Hey, sweetheart, come on why don’t we- you okay?” He asks, concern apparent in his voice as he watches you angrily open the door. “Swell.” Bucky knew better than to push you into talking based on the way you slammed the door and did the better option as he drove you two out of the headquarters to your shared apartment: wait till you talk. “It’s been a bad day,” you sigh in frustration as you look out the window, relaxing when Bucky nods in understanding. “It’ll be alright, sweetheart, talk to me.” And so you did, which led to you both agreeing on having take out for dinner to save yourself from more stress. The two of you were carrying bags filled with take out and lovely desserts as you went into the apartment, leaving you to close the door behind you with your feet. Unfortunately harder than you had intended to. The laughter had died when you heard the sound of something breaking not too far from you both, causing your whole face to drop. The once brightly lit parol, had shattered into pieces, leaving the lights inside to flicker. That did it for you. The tears that have been threatening to fall from your eyes all day have started to drop. “Y/N…” Bucky starts softly, cutting himself off when he sees you quietly and carefully approach the now broken parol, trying to pick the broken pieces up. “Y/N, careful,” Bucky says worriedly, putting his set of bags down to stop you from hurting yourself. “It’s… it’s broken Buck…” you say in disbelief and disappointment, sniffing as you wipe your tears. “Hey. It’s going to be alright, sweetheart. We can work something out-” “It’s my only parol.”

“It’s okay, hey we still can video call-” “My family had opened their presents by now.” Bucky was stumped for you to say the least. He couldn’t even figure out what to say to you over the quiet dinner table when you barely picked up your food and when you immediately retreated to the bedroom, quiet sniffles echoing. He knew that feeling all too well, having something so connected to your identity be taken away in a moment’s notice. He knew one thing though. He wanted to make you feel at home, and he was going to do something about it.

---

“What do you have there, baby doll?” Bucky questions as he watched you open a square shaped box. He smiled when you didn’t respond, a little habit of yours that he has loved knowing that you could not contain your excitement. “A parol!” you squealed, revealing a carefully crafted ring with a star shaped piece in the middle. It was made of red, white, green, and yellow dyed capiz shells. He had never seen anything like it before. 

He continues to look at the parol, blush forming on his cheeks in embarrassment when you laughed at his curious gaze. “Parols are pretty much Christmas lanterns back in the Philippines. They normally are shaped as stars and they light up at night! It definitely shows the Filipino Christmas spirit,” you explain to him as your excited eyes meet his. Bucky loved hearing you explain your culture, especially since you have been quite homesick since joining the team and having a place of your own. You did not want your family to know too much of what your job entailed. With that being said, whenever you got a chance to immerse yourself in the culture you grew up with, you always took the chance. 

“Want to help me hang it?” You ask, already finding the right spot for it. “Of course doll, let’s go” he replies with a smile, following you to the window to help. Bucky had to admit, the parol looked wonderful. He watched the lantern in satisfaction as it lit up in wonderful patterns, a sight he can’t wait to become accustomed to. “Must really take long to make these,” he remarks as his eyes admire the lantern. “It does… especially these, but they’re all beautiful.” You sigh happily hugging your boyfriend as you watch the parol, twinkling bright as the snow slowly fell gently outside the apartment’s window. 

“God I missed this. You wanna know something?” Bucky’s eyes turned away from the lantern and looked at you intently. 

“Yeah?” 

“This has been around since I was a kid.”

“Really, now?”

“Mhm! I always grew up being surrounded by the culture and my family and I always loved showing it off during the Christmas season. Of course not like in the Philippines though, but we always tried to remember home here. I hope you don’t mind. I asked my parents to bring it over, so I can have a piece of them with me.” The way your face fell in melancholy and embarrassment did not come unnoticed by Bucky. “I don’t mind at all, sweetheart. This is our place, right? Besides, it adds a little flare to our little place doesn’t it?” he questions with that charming smile, making you reciprocate it back in relief before you kiss his cheek. 

“It does… thank you.”

--- 

A knock sounds through the now quiet apartment, making Bucky immediately make his way to the door. “Oh, Mrs. Y/L/N. Thank you for coming.” He says, gently taking your mother’s hand and bringing it up to his forehead just like you taught him. “Ahhh, bless you, bless you,” your mother responds while giggling, making her way into your apartment and sitting down on a couch. Bucky watched in surprise as she took out several simple materials from one of her plastic bags: string, small string lights, bamboo sticks, colored cellophane sheets, rubber bands, and colored tissue paper. 

“That looks different from the one she hung up a few days ago.” Bucky commented in surprise, only for your mother to look up at him with raised eyebrows. “You don’t expect me to make one that expensive looking, do you? No! I’ll buy one for you two later. But for now, let me teach you how to do it the traditional way. Come here.” Your mother beckoned, making Bucky smile as he took his seat next to you, excited for what’s next. 

“Yan! (There we go) What do you think? Pretty good right?” Your mother smiled, clapping quietly as Bucky smiled proudly at the simple parol he had just finished making. It was a simple one for sure unlike the incredibly detailed one you both hung, but he desperately hoped you would enjoy at least a substitute for the meantime. “Wow..it’s nice… thank you…” he started, only to have your mother wave her hand nonchalantly. “Ayyy… it’s no problem. I’m glad you made the effort to do this for her. Thank you.” She laughed when Bucky’s cheeks started to turn red and pinched them before standing up and taking the rest of her bags to the kitchen. Bucky was then confused, from the additional bags in the kitchen, the urgent sounding phone call in what seemed to be Tagalog, and your mother’s quick paced actions. “Is there a way I can help?” He asks, shyly. Your mother couldn’t help but laugh once again, dragging him into the kitchen with her. “I called her father so we can do this.” 

“What are we going to do, exactly?”

“Bring home to her!”

You sighed in relief as the door of your apartment was getting closer and closer. It was luckily a better day, just training and meetings before you were able to go home. You were very much ready to be greeted by your lover’s arms and wind down. However, that wasn’t the case, for when you closed the door, a familiar scent filled the air. “Wait a minute,” you whispered in disbelief, hurrying to the kitchen and saw several foods that you have terribly missed: pork barbecue, chicken afritada, bibingka, and rice cakes. You squealed with joy when your mom and dad yelled surprise, not hesitating to hug the both of them excitedly as joyful tears ran down your cheeks. “I’ve missed you guys! How did you come here?! What?!” you question in awe and denial, which made your parents smile. “You have to thank your boyfriend for that one, anak (child)” your dad replies to a smile.  “I called them over. To hopefully cheer you up.” A shy voice says. You turned around in surprise to see Bucky walking shyly to you with his arms behind his back. “That’s not the only surprise he has for you anak! Bucky, show her! Show her!” Your mother beckoned, resulting in yet another confused look from you. Bucky smiled shyly and revealed to you the parol that he had made earlier, causing another gasp to leave your lips and more tears to fall. 

“Buck… you made this?” Bucky smiled shyly “I did… I remembered you mentioning that people were able to make them, so I asked your mom to teach me, so we can have this for the meantime. I know it’s not much but-” His words were then cut off as you tightly embraced him, then went up on your tippy toes to shower your boyfriend with thankful kisses. “Oh, it’s more than enough, Buck… thank you. Thank you, so much.” You truly were grateful. You were aware that it may have not been easy for Bucky to call them up, let alone build a parol, and you were amazed beyond belief. The two of you hung the small and simple parol that lit up softly in the dark night, admiring the cute sight as your parents took pictures of the two of you with smiles beaming on their faces. “Come on then, you two, let’s eat!” your dad exclaims, laughter filling the walls of the apartment.

 “I can’t believe you,” You whispered to Bucky, holding his hand as you both walked to the table. “Couldn’t let my girl go through her favorite holiday being sad, can’t I? What kind of boyfriend would I be? I figured you could have a piece of home with you for the holidays, so I wanted to give my girl a surprise..” You giggled and nodded and kissed his knuckles, your eyes meeting his wonderful blue ones. 

“I love you so much, Buck. Thank you. But my home wouldn’t be complete without you in the picture, couldn’t it?” 

“Neither would mine, baby doll.”

You took a final look at the parol and back at Bucky, smiling in content as he led you to the dinner table. You held that parol close to your heart, as it showed the efforts and the simple actions that you two took into making each other happy. The fact that Bucky would do this for you was remarkable to you, and that alone proved to you that it didn’t matter where you were, for James Buchanan Barnes was now always there to proudly remind you of home.

Tags: @world-of-aus​ @whew-oh-em-gee​ @lordyitsjordy​ @tomholland-96​ @letstalkaboutsebbaby​

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Main Masterlist

[polaroid15]

Febuwhump day 12 - “Who are you?”

Summary:  Tony invites Peter to a fancy gala, fully intending to show off the kid's big brain and charm. One of the guests take too much of an interest.

WARNINGS: Attempted sexual assault/inappropriate touching. Read carefully!

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/72189720

----

“He’s the sharpest kid of his age,” Tony brags, clapping a supportive hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Not as smart as me of course, but, well, he has potential.”

Peter shuffles awkwardly underneath his mentor’s hold, smiling sheepishly at a sharp looking man that he’s forgotten the name of. It’s blurred with the countless other names and faces Tony has introduced him to in the last couple hours, all with fancy reputations or the creators of ground-breaking inventions. “Mr. Stark-”

“I believe it. It’s nice to meet you, Peter,” the nameless man says, extending a warm hand that Peter takes in a choppy handshake. “Glad you were able to make it today.”

The man leaves and Tony beams after him. “That’s the guy who invented those hotel robot things,” he says. “Well, at least I think he is.”

“Oh,” Peter says, looking at the man’s retreating figure. “That’s neat.”

Tony snorts and rolls his eyes. “Alright, break time. Go get something from the bar and we’ll meet up in a bit, alright?”

“Okay,” Peter agrees, smiling. “Want anything?”

“No, no I’m okay. Knock yourself out. Non-alcoholic only though, kapeesh?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Without further need of prompting, Peter bounds away. He’s wearing a different suit today, trading in red and blue spandex for a pricey Italian two piece that Tony had bought him for the specific occasion.

It fits perfectly, but of course it does.

The event is a fancy gala on the East side of Manhattan to celebrate technological innovation. Tony is meant to give some prestigious speech at its close that he definitely hasn’t prepared for, and had practically begged Peter to come along.

“To show off the big brain of yours,” he had said. “It’ll be fun.”

Peter makes it to the bar, feeling nervous and out of place in the crowd of rich scientists around him. He leans against the counter, waiting for the bartender to notice him.

“Hi there,” a man to his right says, and his voice makes the hair on the back of Peter’s neck stand straight. “You need a drink? It’s on me.”

And it all goes south from there.

---

Tony finds Bruce in the crowd, smiling when he sees him. They bump shoulders and look over the crowd, laughing at the sheer lavishness of it all.

“Enjoying the party?” Bruce asks, hands in his pockets.

“Sure,” Tony says, and is surprised to find it’s the truth. Usually he hates these kinds of events. Dreads them, even. “Been busy.”

“With Peter?”

Tony furrows his eyebrows. Bruce is smiling like he’s holding a secret. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone’s talking about him.”

“Really?”

“You shouldn’t be surprised,” Bruce says, his tone touching on humour. “You have been dragging him around all day. I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t a single person in here that hasn’t been personally introduced.”

For some reason, Tony feels his cheeks heat. “Well, they should know his name. He’ll be taking my place one day, just you wait and see.”

Bruce nods his head, still smiling. “One day,” he repeats. “How’s he doing?”

Across the room, Tony spies Peter leaning against the bar with a glass in his hand. There’s a tall man standing next to the boy, engaged in conversation. He smiles unconsciously at the sight, and clears his throat. “Good, good. The little punk has managed to stay out of trouble for a while, so that’s been real good for my heart.”

Bruce snorts. “True. I haven’t gotten many frantic calls to medbay lately.”

“Thank God,” he says, then pauses, his smile stretching. “Hey, you should go over and eavesdrop on what they’re talking about for me.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“Yes! I want to know what they’re talking about!”

“You’re on another level of crazy,” Bruce says, shaking his head. “Must be the dad instincts.”

“No-”

Bruce’s hand lands on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “No need to defend yourself Tony, I’ll be your spy. Wait here.”

Tony huffs out a half-hearted insult, swiping his hand over the spot where Bruce had just been. He watches his friend weave through the crowd towards his protégé and a small bubble of pride rises up through him.

Peter is a good kid.

He gets sidetracked in light conversation with a short, older man in a penguin tuxedo. Bruce sidesteps into it shortly after, eyes frantic. “Tony-”

“What? Did the kid sneak some alcohol or something?”

“No,” Bruce says, and something in his tone makes Tony’s stomach drop. “I just don’t think that man talking to Peter is very friendly.”

“What do you mean? It looks like he likes the kid.”

“A little too much, Tones.”

He pauses, lets the words connect, refuses to believe them.

Then, he feels rage.

Bruce doesn’t stop him from storming across the room. When he gets close, he sees red, because the man’s hand is climbing Peter’s thigh. The other is circled tightly around Peter’s wrist, pinning him to the counter.

“Get the hell off my kid!”

Tony pushes Peter’s attacker up against the bar with his forearm on his neck, separating him from Peter. The man winces, but looks unafraid. “Get off me Stark!”

“Who are you?” he yells, tightening his hold. Distantly, around him, he can hear the room hush.

“I don’t have to tell you anything-”

Tony punches the man in the teeth before he can finish the sentence and is too angry to feel it when his knuckles split. The man grunts and falls off his barstool, collapsing against the ground and clutching at his bleeding face. When he’s down, Tony kicks him in the ribs.

“Tony-”

He spins, heart racing. Bruce is standing beside Peter, hands supporting the kid by his shoulders. Peter looks spacey and distant, his eyes open but not connecting to anything.

“Oh my god.”

He sees the glass in Peter’s hand, half empty, and the sinkhole in his chest increases. He puts his hands on the sides of Peter’s face, tapping lightly. “Pete? Can you hear me kiddo?”

Peter blinks lazily, head rolling. Finally, with great effort, he shakes his head. “Feel sick,” he murmurs.

The world blurs as Tony’s eyes fill with tears. He connects with Bruce somewhere in his panic, worry and rage ripping through him, threatening to knock him over. “Help me get him out of here,” he pleads.

Bruce nods, and together they help Peter up and out of his seat, supporting most of his weight when his knees give out beneath him. The other guests carve a path for them, whispering behind their hands as the man who had been with Peter is picked up ungently off the ground by security.

“You’re okay,” Tony soothes, squeezing Peter’s arm lightly and wondering if the boy can even feel the attempt at comfort in his roofied state. Acid burns in his throat as he thinks about what could have happened if Bruce hadn’t gone to investigate as Peter trips between them, letting out a low, confused whine. “You’re okay bud.”

They find a small room to slip inside, setting Peter down against the wall. He moans, head still rolling. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, “I’m okay.”

“Don’t apologize,” Tony says, voice strained. “It’s not your fault.”

“Didn’t- didn’t want to ruin your party.”

Both Tony and Bruce still, and Tony feels as if he’s suddenly suspended somewhere in the stratosphere, somewhere with no air. He runs his hands through Peter’s hair, choking back tears. “Pete. Pete look at me.”

Slowly, remarkably, he does.

“I’m so sorry,” Tony whispers, shaking from head to toe. “Never put me in front of your safety, okay? Never.”

Peter blinks, swallows, then nods, looking close to tears himself. “Okay.”

“God, kid.” He pulls Peter into his chest and feels his weak, uncoordinated fingers curl around his suit jacket. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“That guy sucked,” Peter slurs.

“That’s an understatement,” Bruce says in solemn agreement.

They lapse into a short, fractured silence where Peter just breathes. He looks up at Tony with glazed eyes when they pull away, and Tony feels his heart stretch. “How’re you feeling kiddo?”

“Better now,” Peter whispers, eyes brimming with tears. He wipes a sleeve across his cheek when one of them falls. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, don’t apologize.”

“Thanks for helpin’ me.”

“Always.”

They sit there until the drug wears off, and by that time Peter is soundly asleep, pressed between Bruce and Tony’s shoulders.

Safe.

Tony misses his big speech, but it doesn’t matter.

The only thing that does is the kid drooling on his shoulder.

“I’m going to make sure that man never gets out of prison,” he decides, and Bruce nods enthusiastically. A sharp pit of protective anger blossoms up in his chest, and he hangs onto Peter’s sleeping form just a little tighter. “No one messes with my kid and gets away with it.”

And he means it.

[captain-aralias]

Life stuff

this feels kind of weird, because i’ve never used my tumblr like this, but i would have written something on my livejournal, and i want people to know - i just dont want to have to tell people about it, or really talk about it at all. 

but i also wanted to write this, idk. 

(TW: impending death of a parent)

my mum has cancer. 

it’s a rare form of cancer, called peritoneal cancer, which is similar to but different from ovarian cancer - i think it mostly gets diagnosed (like my mum’s) when it’s too late to do anything about it. all the treatment has been palliative only i.e. letting her live as long and as comfortably as possible.

she was diagnosed in september last year - about a year ago, a few months after running the ‘virtual’ london marathon on the isle of wight, where she lives, and obviously deep in lockdown. 

as someone undergoing chemo, she was deemed extremely vulnerable to covid, and so she spent most of the early pandemic isolating. she also said she didn’t see any point in my brother and i visitng her, particularly given the risks, because we could talk via facetime - which is fair enough - all of which meant my brother and i didn’t go to visit her until May this year, after she’d done the first lot of chemo and was already doing much better again. 

a few months after that, we found out that while she’d responded really well to the chemo, her cancer wasn’t responding at all to the maintenance drugs that were suposed to stop it coming back, so she came off the drugs completely. medical advice was basically chemo is as effective whenever you do it, so you might as well enjoy your life for a while, we’ll monitor it every month, and when things start to get too bad, we’ll put you back in chemo. 

it’s friday tomorrow - so two fridays ago, i saw my mum in london after she’d just seen hamilton with her partner, graham. both of them loved hamilton. her hair had grown back, she seemed pretty normal. about a week later, she was in A&E - and she’s been in the hospital all week. she’s got a total bowel obstruction, which means she can’t eat and hasn’t eaten since last week.

now in a weird situation where there are a few tricky, difficult options (including being moved off the island back onto the mainland to a bigger hospital) that will mean that she stays alive long enough to get the chemo, which will probably get her back to hamilton-watching strength, or ... she could die really soon. like, in a few days. 

we can’t visit. her partner can’t visit because covid - there’s this really sad-making photo of him looking happy on the phone through a window to my mum, also on the phone, inside the hospital. 

i feel...

???? :( :( :( ....

i guess this is the main point of the post. i’m not writing this crying, i’m writing it pretty neutrally - because my brain isn’t really processing it right now, and mostly doesn’t process it. 

i did cry earlier today while on the phone to various people, and then i went back to work. i hate crying, i hate being sad, and i dont like people comforting me, because it makes me realise that i have something to be sad about. 

i’ve known she had cancer for a year. i haven’t been able to hang out with her most of that time. i would say, we are fairly close, although not nearly as close as some families. we don’t talk every week, but we talk regularly, and have seen each other regularly. 

i’m so incredibly privileged that nothing that bad has ever happened to me, even though i’m 35. i’ve never been to a funeral, which seemed like a major life win and now i think was a mistake, i should have gone to funerals for people i card about less to help get used to it. 

the literal only comparison i have to how i feel is when my cat Anton died suddenly  about 3 years ago - i handled it with a mix of not thinking about it, being intensely sad for as brief a period as i could, and probably by thinking about how sad my girlfriend was about it, and sort of sidestepping my own feelings in comparison. 

i remember when my last remaining grandparent died - and i was about 14 or something - i wasn’t sad for myself, i was only sad for her my dad being sad. for ages, i worried that i was not going to be sad enough about this - and i still sort of am. 

but i also passionately hate the idea of being sad and i know i’ll look to avoid it as much as possible, and try and get on with my life. 

i know my mum dying isn’t about me - when people write after death it’s about the person who died, obviously. that makes sense. but this post isn’t about my mum, who is a very cool person, much cooler than me - it’s about me. because i am self-obsessed and this is going to wreck my life for a while.

it’s weird, because i can see it on the horizon but it’s not happening yet. and i dont know whether that’s good or bad - i feel like it’s good, in a way. someone ages ago told me that the grieving period starts when you get the news. that seems very true to me - but also, i know that it’s going to ramp up, and so i’m like in the expectation of true grief right now. 

it’s sort of like she died, but also is still going to die, but also i can magically still talk to her. which is really nice, in a way, it’s like a second chance, because i know i didn’t reach out enough before she had cancer. and i’m aware enough of my own actions that i know this is what’s been going on in my head the past year - i should reach out more, because she has cancer, but i dont want to make it seem like i’m reaching out because she has cancer, even though she knows i know she has cancer....... and also, i’m busy writing this fic. /o\

the fact that she seemed to recover (even though my mum insisted on saying ‘i am not recovered, i’m going to die soon’ like several time as a day as a disclaimer) also totally messed with my head, because i knew logically - ok, it’s happening. but also, things seemed so normal when we speak. even when i called her today, and she hasn’t eaten for a week, it seemed normal. 

btw - i realised this week i had no idea how cancer killed people. my mum is a scientist and has looked up all kinds of things about what’s killing her; i’m clearly a simon snow and didn’t want to think about things i can’t help. if you’d asked me, i’d have said like... it poisons you or something, or blocks bloodflow to your brain. not what i think will actually do it which is.... starvation. or being too weak to survive being pumped full of the poison that is intended to kill the cancer. (that one i guess i could have predicted.) man - cancer sucks. i mean, we all knew it. 

(i failed to get into cambridge university at interview stage, many years ago. the man who interviewed me gave me some extremely memorable feedback, which is that i needed to dial back the ‘defensive irony’ - which i thnk in that context meant i put myself down and tried to make a joke of everything. i remember when i got the phonecall to say Anton, my cat, was dead, i literally did not know what to do with my voice - because my instinct was to try and make the vet feel better, and also to present myself as bright and capable, and yet this unexpected and devasting news had just come through. rainbow wrote something sort of similar because she’s a good writer, for shepard as he tells penny about his curse. i feel like that.) 

what else did i want to say? 

i thought i had more time. ‘hamilton’ will probably always be tied to this moment in my mind, because of how much i’ve spoken to my mum about it in the past few weeks (i sent her the remix - she liked it, she listened to it in hospital while trying to drink more than 100ml of fluids) but yeah - this is basically a line from hamilton here. whatever. don’t make me feel my own feelings, let me just quote things. i dont like my own feelings. (no, i dont want to go to therapy - they’d make me talk about my feelings all the time, i’m british for god’s sake.) 

i’m 35 - my mum is 68. i didn’t think she’d die this early or that i’d have to deal with this yet. but then i also don’t think bad things are ever going to happen to me - because mostly they haven’t, see above. i wear a mask and am double vaccinated because i’m not an asshole, but i dont really believe i’ll get covid because bad things don’t happen to me. i didn’t think my mum would die - maybe ever, but definitely not yet. she’s been retired a decade after teaching (science) and has enjoyed it. 

i thought i had time to not have kids yet - which is the other thing (like hamilton) that this moment is really tied up with for me. i feel like 35 is getting quite old, but also not that old to still not have kids, but intend to maybe have them. my feelings about kids were basically like - up until like 25, i thought, yes, definitely. i mean, before i had a realtiosnhip (22-ish), i just assumed i would probably have a het marriage and have kids etc, like people do, but after that we were still talking, yes, children at some point. 

didn’t prioritise it for a few reasons - none of my close friends had children until quite recently, so it just didn’t seem like an urgent thing in the way that it probably does for people with different friendship groups. waiting to be settled enough in a job to be able to take maternity leave without it feeling like a rip off for my employer. waiting for a good time in erin’s PhD writing cycle. and then pandemic. and then a few years ago, maybe as i turned 30, i thought - maybe we won’ have kids, because we still haven’t - and i vocalised that to erin. 

also, i know a lot of people are gay and have children, so it’s not like it’s a thing that is impossible at all, but it’s much much harder if you have to leave your home and your relationship in order to get a child. it has to be a very very conscious decisions. i have friend who are men who have good genes, but we’re not so close i want to ask them for their sperm/to be involved however remotely in making a child - and (i was surprised to discover) (what a lot of things i dont know anything about) you an’t really just buy sperm, it’s not truly legal except through a clinic. and it’s extremely expensive to get inseminated in a clinic, and the NHS don’t really do that, so you do have to pay it. i thought kids would be expensive after they were born, but not before. and i REALLY wanted a house, much much more than - i think even today - i’ve ever wanted a child. i REALLY wanted a house - and now we have a house, and it’s pretty good. but - that’s where the money went, until the pandemic - thanks pandemic - so now we do have some disposable cash at last, because i didn’t commute. 

but now erin is worried about climate change - and wheher it’s right to bring more children into the world, and other things. and.... i think i do want to be pregnant, it’s what i’m planning for - don’t leave this job (which admittedly i also really like, and pays me well - i dont thin i need to leave) because next stop maternity leave, but..... 

i don’t know whether i am thinking, time ot have kids because my best friend just had a baby (the baby’s name is horatio - for real, i actually love this name) (i also haven’t seen her or the baby except over skype, because anna - my friend - is, like my mother, also scared of pandemic) and my brain is like - ok, well, if anna is doing it, i guess the time is here 

AND - i know there’s a large part of me that was like, gotta be pregnant and ideally have the baby before my mum dies so she gets to see that she had a grandchild. my brother and i are both queer, btw, in case you were wondering - he’s considering whether he wants to transition right now (but is still happy with he/him pronouns) and - you may find this astonishing, but i genuinely don’t know whether he’d consider himself ace, or has been in relationships. he’s very private, he has OCD and is in therapy - but anyway, he’s probably not having kids anytime soon (i think!) and graham - my mum’s boyfriend/partner of 10+ years. -has grandchildren, but my extremely middleclass white (but definitely not conservative voters, always 100% not-tory) parents ended up with me and my brother.... and i don’t know, as i say, i don’t know whether my brain is saying ‘have kids before it’s too late’ - although i know by now that it will be too late. even if my mum recovers from this, this time, i don’t think i can produce a child before she dies - and she isn’t asking me too, she’s not like that, but i would have liked her to be there. i thought she would be. 

so - i’m thinking about that. also, about getting a dog. i really want a dog - although i don’t want to upset the three cats (one we’ve had for eight years or so, the other two we got after Anton died). it’s ALSO really hard and expensive to get a dog. you’d think with all these ‘a dog isn’t just for the pandemic, a dog is for life’ type adverts around, that it would be easy to adcidentally get a dog - i’ve looked! you ccan’t get a dog unless you have no cats and you’re super experienced and can take a dog with lots of trauma or medical problems, or you’re willing to pay thousands of pounds. like - even for a regular not even pedigree dog - at least a thousand. pedigree dog - several thousand. i dont want a puppy either - i want a dog. 

and - this is embarrassing to admit, but i’ve alrady told erin - i genuinely had a phase of being super annoyed when i’d read fics where someone just ‘got a dog’. it’s not that simple!!! it’s fiction, it doesn’t matter - chill out. the baby thing too - although weirdly not fics where magic meant it was possible to get a baby, weirdly it was smut. i had a brief week or so of crazy (and i don’t think i am that crazy) where i’d read about fictional semen and just be like - wtf, it’s so hard to get hold of that shit. (it’s not real, this isn’t real semen being wasted, calm down - and i dont even really know if i want kids, i might just think i do.) 

the other thing about the bad thing being soon but not yet (but also being all the time, but not if you dnt think about it) is that i’m thinking - should i prioritise writing my remix now, in case my mum dies and i’m too sad to do it, and then i didn’t do my remix? i was definitely thinking this while writing classroom politics (i hope my mum doesn’t die becaue i dont want to be too sad to miss the deadline) and in the run up to AWTWB .....

today i wrote a list of things for work that would need to be picked up if i have to unexpectedly stop working, either because i’m too sad, or because i have to do funeral stuff, or .... i guess legal stuff about settling the estate. (i guess this happens to a lot of people, too, but it’s also a bit of a mindfuck that my brother and i will inherit her house and a bunch of cash when she dies - i’m pretty well off, my brotehr does virtual reality theatre stuff so really isn’t - we’ve talked about how much easier both of our lives will be with a huge injection of cash, and how we dont know what to feel about that) (great news, dogs and kids are really expensive! time to find out whether i really wanted to spend my money on those.) told people i like at work that it’s coming, and that i dont want to talk about it. and mostly just... carrying on with life, really. until it happens. 

it’s so weird how easy it is to carry on most of the time.i know my mum’s partner is not doing nearly so well - he has to cope with an empty house and he’s retired. i’ve had periods - including right now - where i wake up every morning and check my phone to see whehter someone called me or texted me to tell me it’s over. but most of the day i’m actually really fine. i even had an ok day today. and i don’t know whether i want that to be the case, or whether i shouldn’t let myself do that. i dont know what i should prepare for in terms of where i’ll be - will i want lots of stuff to distract me (this is my guess) and work is very good for that, or i will want to clear time and space because i can’t operate and dont want people to offer me comfort. (FYI - this post isn’t written to make people say anything to me, i definitely dont want to talk about it, so please don’t feel you either have to comment or check in on me - i don’t really want you to. it’s enough to have written it, in my own time, in my own space.)

i think i wanted to write this post in a way because i thought i probably wouldnt want to write it after my mum died - because i probably wouldn’t want to say anything about it at all, for a few years. 

my mum keeps telling me about the show ‘jane the virgin’ - which she’s half way through. shhe asked me to give it a try, so i did (she often tells me about shows on radio 4, which i rarely listen to. i thouht i had more time.) i’ve watched an episode (because she has cancer, i should listen to her recommendations)(but i dont want her to know that’s why i did it) and i do quite like - it’s light and frothy and well cut together (although about kids and artificial insemination, of course). i guess in a worse case scenario where i’m too sad to work or write, i will probably watch a lot of this show - which is incredibly not sad - and feel sad about how my mum never finished it. 

BUT ALSO SHE MIGHT BE OK. for a while. 

i dont know how i feel, blargh. anyway. this was a long post. i think i wrote it mostly for me. feelings are weird. covid really sucks and so does cancer. 

going to order some chicken and watch inuyasha.

[maysbanks]

hold out. (jj maybank)

here it is, the second part to hypersonic missiles ! the response to the first part was absolutely amazing, the support & love in this fandom is incredible & i just wanna say a huge thank you to all of you that take the time to like, reblog & comment, every single one means so much !! gotta admit im not loving this as in it's not my best work and kinda all over the place & half way through writing this i almost scrapped the whole thing to rewrite the full series with an oc bc writing as the reader was starting to get to me lol. but alas here it is & as always i hope u enjoy x

warning: swearing, drug use, underage drinking, violence etc 

summary: after accidentally inserting herself into a treasure hunt with four teenagers, one of which could be considered her 'friend with benefits', y/n grubbs is left to deal with the complications and misfortunes that come along with it - including her ever-growing feelings for said 'friend with benefits'. 

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

If someone had told you a week before that you would lose your father, get your house raided by two men you had never seen before in your life, make friends with a group of teenagers, embark on a two hundred year old treasure hunt with said teenagers, and be hanging out with JJ Maybank every day and willingly, all in the space of one week; you'd have laughed in their face, asked them what drugs they were on and could you have some, and then laugh in their face again.

But alas, there you were. You still couldn't quite believe it, especially the JJ part. You'd had worries at first, like would the gang really want you involved, did they secretly hate having you around, were they just being nice and letting you in on this because your dad had died? All the doubts swirled in your mind, running around like clock-work, just ticking away constantly in the back of your head. Surprisingly, JJ had been the one you'd gone to about them.

"I just feel guilty," you'd said. It was after a day of riding around in John B's boat and using fancy hotels' WiFi, and 'borrowing' a drone from JJ's dads old workplace. His eyebrows furrowed when he looked at you, confused. "I mean, you guys have been friends for like, forever. And then I just show up and you conveniently find out about John B's dad and the treasure hunt on the same day when I'm there, and it's just like - I don't belong with you guys, it's your thing and I'm just kinda, here." 

"You're part of this just as much as we all are," he'd told you, matter of fact. His body was angled to face you as you sat outside John B's self-proclaimed Chateau, a freshly rolled blunt being passed back and forth between the pair of you. "You need to stop doubting yourself, man. You're apart of us now." 

The words had warmed your heart, an instant smile being spread on your lips as you looked at him through red-rimmed eyes. Underneath the setting sun, he looked almost angelic; his golden hair blowing in the slight breeze, tanned skin exposed due to the heat. You had pretended not to notice the tense of the muscles in his arms whenever your fingers brushed when you passed the juul between yourselves. 

"You're too kind to me, Maybank," you'd grinned, boot-clad foot nudging his knee gently. "If I didn't know you so well I'd have thought you'd have ulterior motives."

"Who says I haven't?" He'd smirked back. You'd just smiled, teeth biting down on the plump skin of your bottom lip before you'd looked away from his burning gaze and focused your attention on anything, anywhere but JJ fucking Maybank.

You got along with the gang amazingly, you couldn't doubt that. Pope was the smartest guy you'd met, sweet and funny and passionate and so certain of what he wanted to do in life. Kiara, or Kie, as you'd come to call her, was very environmentally involved, almost too cool for the guys, you thought. She cared so much about so many things, and she had a great taste in music too. John B was a bit like you, you supposed. Fatherless, on the hunt for answers, things like that - but other than that he was a great guy, the makeshift leader of the little group, a little lost in life, but that was to be understood.

And then there was JJ. You felt most comfortable around the blonde, but that was kinda a given too, due to the fact you'd seen each other in your most vulnerable states that came with having sex rather regularly, something the other members of the gang didn't share. He was a spit-fire, always ready to throw a punch and fire threats at those who deserved it, head-strong and stubborn. But he was more so caring, God he cared so much for his friends, you'd discovered. He would do just about anything for them, whatever position that put him in. JJ put the gang before himself, always. You'd noticed all different types of things about JJ especially, little things you had never taken the time to notice before.

These little discoveries probably came from watching him too much, you'd thought one night. It was a bit of a problem, though you never mentioned it. The unspoken rule amongst the group was No Pogue on Pogue Macking, which basically meant everyone was off limits to each other. You understood the rule, Kie having been the only girl before you'd arrived on the scene amongst three guys, and after becoming apart of the gang you had no choice but to respect it - which also meant that JJ was off limits. But was he technically off limits when you'd already been there, so far past the line on macking with each other?

There was some sort of agreement between the two of you, that in order to make this work; your friendship with the Pogues, the hunt for the Merchant's treasure, that nothing could happen. You'd spoken briefly about it that first day, outside the lighthouse beside the Twinkie (John B's van, you'd learned had a nickname), we're cool, right? Pretend we haven't seen each other naked, conversation. It had been cut short, but it still happened. And the pair of you never mentioned it after that, a few off-handed comments here and there from JJ, but nothing specific. So you assumed yours and JJ's hook ups were off the table, and you had no idea why that had come to bother you so damn much.

On the day following your talk with JJ on John B's porch, he'd invited you to come along with him and Pope as they delivered groceries for Pope's dad, Heyward. You had almost said no, because really, you could probably do with a break from the Maybank boy, all the time spent with him was doing no favours for your little situation of Fighting Attraction While Hunting For Gold. That's what you were putting it down to in your mind anyway, too much time spent with the person you're sleeping with can begin to mess with anyone's head, and hey, maybe it was the fact that you were grieving and JJ was familiar - but you couldn't be doing with all these thoughts anymore.

Despite the angel on your shoulder urging you to turn his offer down, you'd said yes. But that was little to do with JJ and more to do with your mom and your current home situation, which was unbearable, to say the least. Your mother was barely speaking to you, as if she was scared of letting something slip if she did. In return, you shut her out, too. Told her lame excuses and empty lies when you were heading out with the gang, lying through your teeth when she'd asked where you were or where you were going.

Lana Grubbs wasn't a stupid woman, though, and you knew she knew you were up to something. But she hadn't mentioned anything outright yet, and so you hadn't said anything either. The hole your father had left was huge and gaping, evident in both your lives. You hadn't spoken about it yet, and you weren't intending to until she could be completely honest with you. You didn't want to hear anymore lies, and you were already on the path to discovering the full truth. On your own.

Her words echoed in your mind every time you left the house, voice small and gentle as she never failed to say the same thing. "Just be careful." You'd always look over your shoulder, and she'd never look back at you. She hadn't looked at you much at all since your dad had died.

It was after a certain drop-off of groceries, you'd joined JJ in his delivery whilst Pope had docked the boat and gone off to deliver his own, yours and JJ's strides matching as you walked the seemingly never-ending drive of the abnormally large house that loomed over you. The Kook part of the island never ceased to intimidate you, no matter how much you didn't want it to. There was something about it, the people that lived amongst it, that unsettled you whenever you entered it. Figure Eight wasn't somewhere you usually visited other than an odd job you'd picked up, and you were reminded why of that fact as you walked alongside JJ.

"Just think," he breathed, all starry eyed and parted lips as he gazed around the pair of you. "This could all be ours soon."

You snorted, bumping his side with your own. "Don't be melodramatic, JJ,"

"I'm serious!" JJ protested. His sea blue eyes caught yours when he turned his head to look at you head-on. The intensity of his stare almost made you stop in your spot, but you managed to carry on, gulping when his eyes continued to hold yours. "I'm sticking to my earlier statement, right, we're going to move here, and out-rich all these fuckin' Kooks."

"Out-rich?" You raised an eyebrow, lips quirking. "Your grammar is so adequate, Maybank."

"It's a word," JJ insisted, nudging your side with the point of his elbow. "Who the fuck uses words like adequate these days, anyway? I don't even think Mrs. Humphrey knows what that word means."

You laughed at the mention of your shared English teacher, the grey-haired, short, spectacle wearing woman immediately entering your mind. JJ grinned when he heard your laugh, dimples winking in his cheeks.

"Mrs. Humphrey can't even spell Wednesday," you giggled, JJ chuckling along with you as he nodded. "It's a wonder how that woman has been working there for like, eighteen years or something."

Your steps faltered as you neared the door to the house, pace slowing as you both basked in the time spent with each other, though neither of you would admit it. "She was probably a good teacher at first," JJ said thoughtfully, shuffling the groceries in his hands. (You tried not to notice the way his arms looked when he did that, muscles clenching and on full show with his cut-off tank.) "I bet each year another brain cell of hers just like, dies."

"Wouldn't surprise me," you nodded. "Mine would attempting to teach classes full of teenagers," rather dramatically, you shuddered. "Especially if one of those teenagers was JJ Maybank."

"Hey!" JJ shouted, though his grin proved that he found your jab amusing. You laughed along with him, bumping his side once more as you finally landed at the door, watching as he turned to you, expression trying to be serious and failing, rather horribly. "You better watch yourself, Grubbs. I'm serious here, I can be a pretty scary guy if need be, y'know."

You didn't doubt that, of course. You'd seen JJ in action with your own two eyes, you knew what he was capable of. But somehow, stood with you there, on the doorstep of some filthy rich Kook's mansion, groceries in hand, blonde hair shining golden in the sun, sun-kissed skin exposed to your wandering eyes, grin on pink lips; you couldn't imagine JJ Maybank hurting a fly.

"Trust me, I know." You'd said just as he knocked on the door, shooting you one last toothy grin before the door was opened and he was pulled into a conversation with the woman who'd answered it, talking about all things from the weather to the next semester at school. You watched him all the while, smile growing on your lips without your knowledge as you took him in, seemingly in his element as he sweet-talked the middle-aged woman inside the house. When he turned to you suddenly, you startled, broken from your thoughts and caught red-handed staring at him like some freak. He grinned, tongue wetting his pink lips at the same time you internally groaned.

"I was just saying, the groceries," he trailed off as he pointed to the bags in your hands in which you'd forgotten were even there. You let out an 'oh' as you quickly passed the groceries over to the waiting woman, shooting her an apologetic smile as she looked at you knowingly. JJ nodded his head in your direction, speaking once more to the woman, "New guys, huh?"

You glared at him as the woman laughed, perfectly manicured hand reaching beside her and grabbing hold of her purse, pulling a note out with her slender fingers. She held the note out to JJ, who immediately tried to turn it down, insisting there was no need, but the woman was unrelenting - sending a pointed look your way as she told him, "For your troubles, sweetie."

JJ picked the note from her hands, a gracious smile being sent to her as he nodded. "It's been a long day," he sighed heavily and your jaw almost dropped as you resisted the urge to reach out and slap his arm. What a fucker. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Ramirez. I really appreciate it."

The woman, Mrs. Ramirez, as you learned, nodded and waved a hand. "No bother, sweetie," she told him before turning her eyes back to you. You forced a smile as she simply eyed you up and down, before sending an obviously forced one of her own. "And thank you." She said curtly, and you were ready to give her a piece of your mind before JJ was grabbing your arm and dragging you in the direction of where you'd come from, shouting one last thank you over his shoulder as he walked you back towards the boat.

It was when you were a safe distance away that you shook your arm from his hold only to slap him gently on his own as you glowered, glare smouldering as he laughed, throwing his head back as he stumbled beside you.

"You're such an ass," you huffed as you tried to ignore his chuckling, speeding your steps. "I mean, she literally just tipped you a hundred dollars for showing up and smiling, I'm sure if I had a third leg down there I would have got the same treatment too."

"Are you jealous?" JJ asked, having to jog slightly to keep up your hurried pace. His smile was huge and infectious, and you made a point not to meet his stare when he landed next to you in fear of breaking your fake annoyed stance. "Maybe if you weren't too busy checking me out then you could have talked to her, and y'know, make a small fortune yourself."

You scoffed, whirling around and halting him in place. He almost stumbled into you, and you stepped back when his hands landed on your arms to steady himself, shaking his grip off almost immediately. "I wasn't checking you out," you told him, matter of fact.

JJ grinned and ran a hand through his hair as he replied, "Sure you were," he shrugged. You crossed your arms over your chest and glared, biting down on your tongue as you resisted your own smile as he motioned to his body from head to toe. "Not that I can blame you, I mean look at me."

"I've looked, JJ," your voice was low when you said it, a knowing tone to your words. "I've looked, and I've seen it all, in case you forgot."

A low chuckle slipped past his lips. "How could I ever forget?" He asked rhetorically, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips as you tried not to follow the action with your eyes, and failed, miserably. "Trust me, that image is forever dented in my brain. I think of it, sometimes. Just randomly."

You rolled your eyes. And he's back, _you thought. _He never left, a voice at the back of your head piped up. You ignored them both. "C'mon," you said, already turning on your heel and starting off in the direction of where Pope had docked the boat. "Let's go get these deliveries finished."

The pair of you said nothing more for the rest of the duration of the short walk back, and when the boat was in your sights JJ was off running, more than likely eager to show off his one hundred dollar tip to Pope, as you idled, watching his back as he ran. When you finally landed in the boat, it was silent. You immediately picked up on the tension, heavy in the small space, and shot JJ a confused glance when he looked back at you.

Slowly, you made your way towards where the two boys were up at the front of the boat, Pope situated at the wheel. The dark skinned boy was staring straight ahead, refusing to meet either yours or JJ's eyes. When you looked to the latter, he subtly shrugged a shoulder, letting you know that he had no clue himself what was going on with his best friend.

"Pope?" You questioned softly. "What's wrong?" When there was no answer, you shared another glance with JJ, his concern shining in his blue eyes. You tilted your head as you went to ask him again, but when you did, your eyes caught on to the colour crimson that was slowly streaming down the side of his face. You gasped and JJ startled, chest bumping your shoulder as he tugged the cap from Pope's head, revealing the injury near the top of his head.

"Jesus!" JJ exclaimed when he caught sight of the wound, Pope swatting at his hands that held his hat, pulling it back down once JJ had let go. "What happened?"

"Rafe and Topper jumped me," Pope's voice was slightly wobbly as he informed you both, a tear sliding down his cheek as he recounted, "They said no Pogues on their side of the island."

Your blood began to boil just as JJ demanded, "What are you gonna do?" His own jaw clenched in anger as he looked at his best friend, beaten and bruised in front of him from the hands of some entitled selfish pricks that thought they were better than everyone because they had more money in their pockets. Rafe Cameron was a name that never failed to make you queasy at just the mention of it, and his little gang of followers including Topper Thorton were just as unbearable.

"I have something in mind." Pope spoke, voice and stance determined. And something he did, as he drove to Topper's new boat - and promptly swam over and removed the plug from it, causing the new model to sink into the water as you and JJ watched from Heyward's boat, keeping an eye out for anyone that may have spotted your trio.

And though it was bad, and you knew you probably shouldn't have taken part in such an activity, nor prompted Pope to either; you couldn't deny the rush it gave you as you watched Topper Thorton's boat begin to sink, and maybe it was the fact that you knew that Topper was a Grade A Asshole and deserved it, or maybe it was Pope's own unsure but excitable adrenaline that mixed with your own, or maybe it was just the fact that JJ wrapped his arm around your shoulder without a care in the world as he shouted his support to his friend, squeezing you to his side almost unknowingly, like it was some kind of instinct.

You thought, yeah, it probably was, as you immediately felt the loss of it when he moved to grab Pope in a hug. And then you thought, well shit.

There was a mutual share of disappointment when the gang had found just about absolutely nothing when you'd taken Pope's fathers boat out the next morning, drone ready and in hand to go hunt for the gold, where John B Routledge had marked down on the map it having been.

Granted, the Royal Merchant was there. It was just missing the one thing they were after - the gold was nowhere in sight, and the journey had been a complete waste of time. You thought it to be too good to be true, of course it had to be. Four hundred million in gold and you were expected to find it? There was no way, you thought bitterly as JJ steered the gang back to land, not one of you daring to speak as the disappointment crashed over you all in huge waves.

You'd departed with the guys not long after that, after promising Kie that you would accompany her to the annual summer movie night, making your way towards home. The bitter frustration ate away at your insides, you were mad, angry - fucking infuriated, each step the gang got closer to finding the gold, it was as if someone was stood in your path and shoving you all back another ten.

Had your dad really died for this? This seemingly never-ending hunt for promised gold that, for all you knew, could be complete and utter bullshit. You didn't understand it at first, when the pieces began to slot together, but it was like every time the chase got harder it made you want it even more; and then you understood your fathers fascination and Big John Routledge's obsession. This gold meant everything to you and the gang, and you knew, John B especially, would never give up on this chase.

"Hey, sweetheart," your mother called when you entered the house. The front door was still broken, only the screen in place, and was leaning against the wall as you maneuvered past it. Lana was sat at the couch, and when you walked in she'd shoved a box away from her, the lid laying haphazardly over the top. "I wasn't expecting you home so early."

You shot her a small and forced smile, shuffling your bag from your shoulder and onto the floor, landing with a soft thud. "Hey mom," you greeted back, noting her teary eyes and flushed cheeks. "What're you doing?"

When you arrived at the back of the couch, looking over her shoulder, you immediately recognised the box - Family Photos! _written atop _the cardboard.

"I was just looking through some old pictures," she told you, sniffling as she attempted to smile at you. "Just wanted to see his face again."

You nodded, your throat tightening at the mention of your dad. Reaching a hand up and wiping away her tears, she looked at you questioning, "Where have you been?"

"Just out," you said, bluntly and unconvincing. "Doing a few jobs here and there, y'know. Nothing exciting."

Lana hummed, quirking an eyebrow at you. "Mr. Phelps told me that he seen you with that Maybank kid the other day," she informed, your face falling for a millisecond as her words sunk in. She looked at you, tear-stained face and serious gaze, lips pulled to a thin line. "I told you to stay from those guys, Y/N."

"I was helping him deliver groceries, mom," you deadpanned - which wasn't exactly a lie, if that's when Mr. Phelps had spotted you. Most of your time spent with the gang was mainly off the land and away from prying eyes, whether that be on a boat or the Chateau, so you knew that was the safest bet of when you'd been spotted. "For Heyward's. It's not like I'm hanging out with him on purpose."

Lie, lie, lie. It was becoming alarmingly easy to lie straight through your teeth, and to your mother nonetheless, but you couldn't dare tell her anything, and why should you, when she hadn't told you anything? It took two to Tango, you thought.

"I just don't want you getting hurt," your mother reminded, and you let out a sigh as you nodded, faked closed-mouth smile on your lips. "I'm serious, Y/N, please just be careful out there."

"Always am," you promised (bull-fucking-shit). You turned on your heel, heading towards your room as you called over your shoulder, "I got invited out tonight, by the way. To the movie thing on the North Side. Is it alright if I go, please?"

You waited at your door, hearing your mother sigh from the couch. "Yes, you can go." You smiled, this one more real than all the rest, and thanked her gently. She didn't look back at you though, and the familiar unspoken tension was back with vengeance. You couldn't wait to get out of it.

The movie night was a welcome distraction from your frustrations with the treasure hunt, the haunting memories of your dad, and the tension with your mom. It was only you, Kie, Pope and JJ that attended - John B having seemingly disappeared for the day, none of the gang having heard from him. You'd managed to leave the house with relatively no questioning from your mom, and met JJ a little way down the block.

("Woah, keep two feet away from me please," you'd joked, halting in your tracks as you spotted him standing there. He'd furrowed his brows at you, frown etched on his face. "My cover's been blown, everyone knows about us!

He just looked even more confused, eyes squinting down at you as you raised a hand and layed it across your forehead dramatically. "What'd you mean?" He questioned, eyes darting around, seemingly searching for answers in the air around you both. "What, do people know we sleep together or something?"

You'd rolled your eyes, shoving him gently when you were close enough, beginning to walk away. "No, you doof," you chuckled. "Mr. Phelps ratted me out to my mom, told her that he saw us together the other day. I had to tell her that we were just delivering groceries for Pope's dad."

"Ah," JJ nodded, shooting you a mischievous grin. "We better go into hiding then, I'm thinking... log cabin in the mountains, all fur sheets and deer heads on the walls, ooh a hot tub too."

You laughed, "Trying to whisk me away there, Maybank?"

You were joking, but his eyes were surprisingly serious as he looked at you. "Always, Grubbs.")

The field was already packed full of people by the time the four of you arrived, groups of people scattered around, idle chatter filling the air. It was being held on the Kook side of the island, and your eyes swooped over the people, most of them being Kook's themselves, expensive clothing and an aura that just screamed, I'm better than you. It made you feel uneasy, but you tried not to think about it as Kiara led you through the crowds.

"I'm so glad they're still doing this," she tells you all, sighing happily. The faces of the guys revealed they were not nearly as happy to be there as she was, while you were simply just glad to be out of your house once again. "Keep calm, carry on. Back to normal, OBX life, y'know?" She stopped once she found a decent spot, turning to the three of you. "Aren't you guys glad I made you come?"

"Ecstatic." Pope deadpanned, sarcastic lull to his tone.

"My couch was pretty comfy." JJ piped up.

"I'm just happy to be out the house, I guess." You said.

You were aware why the guys were so uncertain about being there; it wasn't so long ago that Pope was sinking Topper Thorton's boat, you and JJ accompanying, and now you were all on his side of the island. Not only that, but you knew that if Topper was to discover that it was Pope who'd done his boat in, it wouldn't just be Topper that confronted him - it would be the full Happy Days Gang. Nothing was ever a fair game when it came to Kooks.

Kiara excused herself to go buy soda's from the conession stand, and you shifted as you seated yourself on the blanket you'd bought, having opted out of bringing a chair. You sat in front of JJ, his legs touching your back.

"What's wrong with you guys?" You turned your head when Pope and JJ began to whisper, the former's panicked eyes landing on you as you frowned at the pair.

"Topper and Rafe are on my ass," Pope revealed. "They know I sunk Topper's boat."

You sighed heavily, muttering a shit as JJ grabbed his friend by the arm, focusing his attention towards him. "They can't prove it, okay. Just deny, deny, deny."

Pope nodded along, muttering along with him as you watched the pair, before your eyes moved to Kie that arrived back, her eyes narrowing as she seated herself beside Pope. "Just saw Rafe," she informed, your blood running cold. You could practically feel JJ tense from behind you. "He said, and I quote, 'Tell your boy we know what he did'. What is that?"

"Um, where is he?" JJ questioned, his tone of voice revealing his hidden anxiety.

"Right there." Kiara nodded her head, right in the direction of where Rafe Cameron and his goons sat, as you, Pope and JJ whipped around, Pope practically turning his full body in their direction. You groaned as JJ desperately urged him to turn back round, and away from their taunting eyes.

"The whole death squad!" Pope exclaimed, anxiety riding off of him in waves.

"Don't stare, bro," JJ urged, hand wrapping around Pope's shoulders. You tuned out the rest of the blonde's words as he informed you all that he'd be coming out swinging if they were to corner him, and you felt dread build as you heard his last words. "If that doesn't work, I got this right here." He patted his bag.

"JJ, please tell me you did not bring a gun here," Kie practically begged. "JJ, there are kids!"

You focused your attention straight ahead of you as the guys continued to argue; Pope simply telling Kie that it might go down to her line of questioning, her brown eyes darting back and forth between you all. You refused to meet her eyes, however, and were glad when the large screen ahead of you suddenly lit up. "Oh, look," you exclaimed, laughing nervously. "The movie's starting."

And it was left at that - JJ whispering deny, deny, deny to Pope once more before you all turned your attention to the screen, trying to block out the intruding thoughts of having the knowledge that the gang of Kooks were staring you down, awaiting your next move like a predator would its pray.

All was going fine - the movie was good, everyone's attention on the black and white screen. You tried not to think about Rafe and Topper, or the gold or your dad, and definitely not the feel of JJ's legs either side of you, trapping you into his hold. You let yourself believe that everything would be okay, and then Pope had revealed he needed a piss, and everything had gone to shit.

JJ had accompanied him, and the two had set off behind the screen, hidden away from Rafe's watchful eyes. They hadn't done a good enough job to be discreet though, and you immediately took notice of Rafe, Topper and Kelce making their way towards the opposite side of the screen. You swore, catching Kie's attention as she questioned, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Looks like that piss break just got a lot more complicated," you said, and realisation dawned on her face. It didn't take the pair of you long to locate the guys, all in various forms of fighting, as you and Kie screamed at them to stop. You grabbed Rafe's arm mid-swing, his fist raised and ready to send a hit to JJ's face from where Kelce had hold of him. "Stop it, you dick!"

You let out a scream as you were sent flying back from his shove, Rafe's blue eyes wild and crazed as he glared down at you. "Stay out of this, Grubbs!" He barked, and without a moments hesitation sent a fist hurling towards JJ's cheek.

Kiara had jumped on Topper's back from the small distance away from you, and you took a moment to ready yourself before hurtling towards Rafe from your crouched position, tackling him to the ground from his knees, effectively stopping his blows. He seemed stunned for a second, staring dazed up at you before he promptly threw you off of him, shoving you to the ground without a care. "Don't fucking touch me," he growled down at you, and you groaned slightly as the wind was knocked from you.

You heard JJ from somewhere above you, shouting insults at Rafe and repeating your name over and over. You lifted yourself from the ground just as Topper puts Pope in a headlock, his tight grip causing the dark skinned boys breath to leave him in choked gasps. You shoved at Rafe's back once more, sending him stumbling forward before he whipped around, hand reaching out and grabbing you by the face, tugging you so you stood nose-to-nose with him.

"I said," he ground out darkly, eyes boring into yours. "Don't fucking touch me."

You were beginning to fear what would come next before a sudden glow caught your eye from the side, the movie screen lighting up in harsh flames. Rafe dropped you, your hands moving to rub over the imprint he'd left, as you looked towards where Kie stood, JJ lighter in hand. Screams of terror echoed from the other side, as people began to flee, and it didn't take long for the three Kooks on your side to follow, sprinting quickly from the scene. Fucking cowards, you thought.

JJ's hands were on you before you could even blink, eyes earnest and worried as they looked over you, your cheeks red from the earlier grip Rafe had on you. "You good?" He asked you, slightly out of breath. You nodded, repeating the question to him. He smiled lightly. "Yeah, yeah. I'm good."

The night had ended promptly there, Kie dropping you off at your respected houses. You'd bid them all a good night, and as quietly as possible made your way into your home, not wanting your mother to see the marks imprinted on your face from Rafe's fingers. Luckily, she'd already been in bed, and it didn't take long for you to crawl into yours, thoughts of the day and a certain blonde running through your mind.

The next morning you'd met the gang (save for John B, who was still seemingly missing) at the Heyward's store; your morning had been spent desperately trying to hide the red marks that Rafe's fingers had left from your mom before she could notice and ground you in your room for the rest of your life. It had a been a success for the most part, and she asked no questions as you left the house, though you took note of her uncertain expression as you bid your goodbyes.

"Have you heard from John B?" You asked Kiara who was working closest to you. You had realised the brunette boy was missing from the group upon your arrival, and you couldn't help the worries in your mind at where he could be or what could have happened to him.

"No, nothing. Have you?" She returned the question, brown eyes meeting yours as you shook your head no, a short sigh falling from her lips. "Neither have the guys. What're you thinking?" Kiara eyed you, gaze suddenly sullen. "Do you think something's happened?"

"I don't know, Kie," you told her because honestly, you didn't. John B had a target on his back, that much was for sure. Son of Big John, once owner of the proclaimed death compass. Your mind thought back to the two men that had raised your home, and chased the guys on more than one occasion, and you couldn't help but think the worst. "I'm sure he's fine, though."

Kiara nodded, though she looked anything but sure. "Yeah, you're probably right." The pair of you continued on with your respected work, JJ's and Pope's voice trailing from somewhere in the store as they talked. "You're working Midsummers, right?"

You groaned, nodding. Kiara laughed at your sour expression. "Oh yeah, second year running. To be honest, I'm surprised they let me work it after last year, my customer service must be better than my right hand hook," you joked, chuckle escaping your lips as you thought back to the Midsummer's party the year before. Your dad had gotten you the gig, because he was a weasel like that - always talking people into getting what he wanted, and what he wanted was the gas bill to be paid, and his face just didn't fit the portfolio to be serving Kook's their drinks at their fancy party, and so it had left left to you to do just that.

The night had ended with Dean Kipp on his ass after his hand had fallen on your ass, and you'd been let off with a warning as the guy clutched his bloody nose and called you everything ranging from psycho bitch to slutty pogue. Your surprise was immense when you were offered a job again this year, and a large amount of the reason you'd said yes was just so you could see the look on his face when he saw you.

"He totally deserved that," Kiara remarked, grinning. You smiled back, the pair of you sharing a laugh as you returned to your work.

For a second, you let your worries wash away as you were pulled into a conversation with the gang, your spirts high for the first time in a while. You were happy, you realised. What had started off as being the worst period of your life was slowly turning into the best, the gang and treasure hunt a blessing in disguise. The four of you shared laughs and joked back and forth as you worked, and you found yourself to be perfectly content.

All that came crashing down when Pope's father entered the shop, police officer trailing behind him. "Hey, Pope! There's someone here to see you."

You stopped dead-on, the rest of the gang halting in their movements as you all stared towards the officer you recognised as Shoupe. "Evening, officer." Pope greeted, gulping.

"I have an arrear warrant for felony destruction of property," Deputy Shoupe approached your group, handing the said warrant to Pope's dad. From beside you, JJ tensed, and when you turned to look at him, his blue eyes glanced down at you, freshly beaten face pulled into an anxious grimace as his jaw clenched. Shoupe had gotten remarkably closer, hands reaching for the handcuffs placed on his belt. "Hands where I can see 'em."

Pope glanced desperately towards JJ, who shook his head quickly, his words, though unspoken, clear as day. Deny, deny, deny. But denying wasn't going to get Pope out of handcuffs, you decided as you stepped forward, tone pleading as you demanded, "Stop, you can't just do this!"

"Out of my way please, Miss Grubbs," Shoupe dismissed you, sounding almost bored as he shoved past you, beginning to handcuff Pope who can do nothing but allow it to happen, his anxious eyes focusing on one spot as reality began to sink in.

"What did he do, Shoupe?" Mr. Heyward questioned in disbelief, watching as his son was getting arrested in front of his very eyes.

"Take a look at the warrant," the cop said simply as he begun to tug Pope out of the store.

It was chaos. Everyone was shouting, demanding answers and hurling insults. JJ is screaming something about somebody paying him, Kiara is in your ear asking what the hell was going on, Mr. Heyward is hurtling questions towards both his son and Shoupe. Passbyers stared at the scene, whispering to each other as they walked by or stopped to watch. Everything blurred together, and you could do nothing but watch the scene unfold in front of you.

Those fucking assholes, you thought. Topper Thorton came to mind, tan skin and bleached ends, million dollar smile and designer clothes. You remembered his wild gaze as he held Pope in a headlock the night before, close to almost killing him. And yet he was off somewhere doing god knows what, probably shopping for a new boat to replace the one he'd lost, not that he probably cared all that much about it in the first place. Rafe Cameron's eyes entered your mind next, and you felt a shudder run through you as you remembered them boring into yours as he held your face frighteningly tight and close to his own.

JJ's voice was suddenly breaking through your stream of thoughts - "It wasn't him!" He was calling out, eyes directed on Shoupe who paused and turned toward him, Pope's face disbelieving from behind him. "It was me."

It sunk in then what JJ was trying to do, and you whirled around from his left, quickly shaking your head as you muttered, "JJ." He ignored you however, and stepped forward towards where the officer was standing, Pope still in his arms.

"He tried to talk me out of it," JJ continued. "But I was mad because he had just been beaten up, I was sick of those assholes from Figure Eight that I lost my shit." He was stood directly in front of Shoupe, almost boot-to-boot. You couldn't see his face from where you were, and you were almost thankful for the fact as you heard him direct his words to Pope, "I can't let you take the fall for what I did. You've got too much to lose."

"JJ, what are you doing?" Pope demanded. His face was confused, just as much in shock as the rest of you. For a second, his eyes leave JJ's and land on yours, a shaky breath leaving your lips as his eyes were practically pleading.

"I'm telling the truth, for once in my goddamn life, I'm gonna tell the truth," JJ announced loudly. "I took his old man's boat, too."

"What the hell?" Mr. Heyward questioned, though nobody paid him any mind. Your gaze was too focused on the unfolding scene of JJ Maybank taking the fall for something he most definitely do, and you could do nothing but watch it happen.

Your heart finally shattered when JJ's last words entered your ears, "He's a good kid. You know where I'm from."

He only looked back once as he was put into the handcuffs that previously held Pope, and that wasn't until he was shoved in the back of the police car and the door was slammed behind him. You walked closer towards it, hand on Pope's back as he watched his best friend get arrested for something he'd done, and you both knew it. When JJ glanced up and out of the window, bruised face clear behind the glass, his sea blue eyes caught yours and then he smiled.

The fucker.

You could only watch helplessly as the police car was driven away and out of sight, Pope throwing his cap down in a fit of anger as he stormed off, his dad calling after him, Kie landing to your right. The dark haired girl wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you to her side gently.

"JJ'll be alright," she told you, voice confident though her face read anything but as she glanced in the direction the car had been driven off. "He always is."

But what, a voice in the back in your head nagged at you, if this time he wasn't?

And then it dawned on you: you actually really, generally, sincerely and whole-heartedly cared about JJ Maybank.

(And the thought scared you more than you would ever like to admit.)

& to the lovely people that asked to be tagged in this, love you all x @ponyboys-sunsets @mysticsthinking @danicarosaline

[nakedmossy]

Alone, Together - Chapter 4 [JJ x Reader]

JJ x READER

Description: JJ is not the only pogue on the cut who deals with abuse at home. Reader is an only child who lives with her mom and her abusive stepdad, has a strong relationship with JJ because they share the same home life. Reader experiences physical abuse for the first time, which changes her relationship with JJ irrevocably.

Chapter Summary: The next morning after the worst night of your life, you end up hanging out on John B’s boat with the pogues, the day takes a turn

Disclaimers: Mentions of physical abuse, swearing, alcohol.

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JJ was gone when you woke up. You stretched slowly, moving your arms around and flinching when the skin on your forearm pulled at the newly forming scab. You laid on your back and blinked up at the ceiling, recalling the events of last night. Your head was sore, your ribs were sore sore. You had never felt so cramped and tender in your life. The swelling on your eye felt like it had settled down a little bit, but you knew that meant the bruising would be infinitely worse. Mindlessly lifting a hand to your bruised rib cage you lost yourself in a wave of remembrance, your head filling with the sounds and sights of your stepdads fist coming at your face as you closed your eyes. You remembered falling back and hitting your face off the kitchen counter before hitting the ground, and the sickening sound of flesh on flesh as he had pounded blow after blow into your rib cage. The thought of it made you feel sick to your stomach. Then you remembered the party, and the expression on JJ’s face when he had seen your bruises, and his tenderness and his warmth. Then, as if you hit fast forward on a video, you catapulted yourself throughout the events at the Chateau, lingering briefly on the memory of JJ running out of the Chateau after seeing your bruised ribs. Your head started pounding again and you smiled when you remembered kissing JJ and how you ended up in bed. 

The smile was temporary. Your face was so sore and your head was killing you.

“Hey” You heard a quiet voice from the doorway and looked over the blanket pile to see John B smiling at you softly before walking across the threshold and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “How you feeling kid?”

You wiggled into a half sitting position against the headboard and shrugged, smiling back at him.

“I’m alright” You said, your voice groggy and weak. “Sore”

“I bet” He nodded, his face sad again. He chewed on his lip before remembering why he had come in and handing you a cup of coffee. 

“Thanks” He passed it to you gingerly and looked wounded when you winced at the pain from the movement of your ribs. “Where’s JJ?” You asked after a few sips.

“Outside” He said looking over his shoulder and out the window. “We’re getting the boat ready...you feel like coming out today?” 

You nodded slowly, thankful that he was offering you an out from sitting in the house all day and cowering from your impending reality. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

You shared a moment of silence that was only broken when John B shifted to sit closer to you and placed a hand on your leg overtop of the blanket.

“Listen, Y/N...I wanted to tell you last night, but um...anyways. I just want you to know that we’re all here for you.” He looked at you directly as he spoke, calm and steady. He was absolutely one of the kindest people you knew. “You don’t have to do anything alone...you’re not in this alone. You can stay here as long as you want. I don't...I don't want you to feel like you have to go back there.”

His expression was soft but concerned, as if he was expecting you to get up and leave right at that moment.

“Thank you” You said lightly, genuinely. “Really John B. I appreciate it. I mean, I will have to go home eventually but, not yet.”

John B bit his lip and nodded once, looking out the window again before standing up.

“Look...um, I might consider maybe not bringing that up with JJ for a bit. I think he’s pretty ..shaken up about the whole thing and the idea of you going back there...I just don't want you to be put in a bad situation because of his...well, how he is, you know?”

You smiled knowingly at him and felt your chest tighten at the brief memory of JJ leaving last night, intending to go find your step dad, before John B had stopped him. It could have been so bad, thank god for John B being level headed and strong.

“I wont mention it to him.” You said quietly. John B looked at you solemnly again before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Will you promise me something?” He said as he stood up straight again and lingered in the doorway. You nodded. “Can you just...let me know, before you go anywhere?”

You knew he meant before you go back there. You nodded again, holding your pinky out in the air and waiting for him to hold his up. You made the air motion of linking pinkies from a distance and that made John B’s face relax slightly. He tapped the door frame once then disappeared down the hallway, and you were alone again.

You needed to shower. You needed food. You needed a hug. But most of all, you needed to see what your face looked like. You slowly and carefully slid out of bed and walked towards the door to the shared bathroom, holding your rib cage to keep the skin from moving around. Closing the door behind you and standing in front of the mirror you slowly brought your eyes up to look at yourself, your stomach turning when you saw the deep blue and purple crescent moon shaped bruise on your cheek. It curved around your cheek bone and up your hair line towards the outline of your brow bone, two cuts were red and starting to scab over - one on top of your cheek bone, the other on your eyebrow. Your eye swelling had gone down, you could see properly out of it again, but the flesh all around your eye and your eyelid was purple and red. The only thing that didn’t look worse was the cut on the corner of your lip. 

Sighing deeply and groaning as you lifted up John B’s shirt, you saw the reflection of your ribs in the mirror and almost gagged. The bruising had spread into your abdomen and was sprinkled up and down your rib cage, onto your hip. You felt nauseous, like actually nauseous, and knelt down in front of the toilet. You felt your stomach twist and flip, a small line of sweat forming on your upper lip. You hadn’t eaten for two days by this point so there wasn’t really anything to throw up, but you dry heaved and gagged into the toilet, the stomach acid burning your throat and mouth. The regurgitation of fluids made your body shake slightly and you had to rest your head on the toilet seat to keep from tipping over. 

You heard a light knock on the door, then heard JJ’s voice saying your name, concern making it a deeper tone than normal. You mumbled something about ‘just a minute’ and wiped your mouth, waiting for the dizziness to subside. Standing up slowly and flushing the toilet, you rinsed some cold water in your mouth from the tap before opening the door. JJ stood towering in the frame, his face dark his eyes watching you intently. It softened slightly when you smiled at him.

“Hey JJ” You croaked, your voice hoarse from the puking.

“You okay?” He asked, backing up a little to let some light from the hallway through. You nodded, wiping your nose on the back of your hand.

“Just kind of...dizzy” You said before motioning to start walking. 

JJ backed up and let you walk past him back to the bedroom where you slowly lowered yourself onto the bed again. JJ had followed you in and closed the door behind him, leaning against it and crossing his arms loosely.

“Thanks for...staying with me last night” You blushed slightly, finding it hard to look him in the eye. He was so...goddamn. He was so tall, and so tanned, and so toned, and so perfectly JJ. 

“Of course” He said nonchalantly. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. I think I need some pain killers for my...” You motioned your hand over your ribs and ran hour hand through your hair, trying to fluff it up so it wasn’t matted to your head from sleep.

JJ lifted himself off the door and walked towards you, sitting down next to you and reaching his hands out to hold your face. He moved it this way and that, examining the bruises in different lights, before holding it firm to look directly at him. His eyes held yours intensely and then he leaned in and kissed you gently, his lips barely grazing the surface of yours. His hands dropped when he pulled away and he watched you as you flitted emotions of insecurity and happiness across your face.

“What a night” He said quietly when you looked at him again. What an understatement.

“Yeah.” You agreed, your voice flat, your eyes drifted to a spot on the wall where you felt them daze as you spaced out, thinking about your stepdad hitting you again.

“Hey” JJ murmured quietly, bringing your attention back.

“Sorry” you said quickly, straightening your back and trying to move your stomach without hurting your ribs. “It’s just...well, you know” You said quietly. “Hard to think about”

You hadn’t addressed the fights you had with your stepdad with JJ in a few weeks, not since they had started to get more and more frequent, more and more violent. You knew all about JJ’s home life, you knew what he dealt with, and it wasn’t uncommon to see him show up to the Chateau every few weeks with a scratched face or remnants of a black eye. It was always upsetting and it always made you want to just ... take him away and take care of him. But it was a pattern and he always found a way to brush it off.

JJ knew about your home life too. He knew about how aggressive your stepdad was and how much a drunk he turned out to be. He was the first person you called when your mom got into it with him and you needed out of the house, he was always the first person to notice when you were off. He didn’t even need to ask anymore. It was an unfortunate shared experience you had between the two of you, but it brought you closer. Until last night with JJ, you felt like he was the closest thing you had to a brother. You had both grown up in those environments and didn’t have to explain it or talk about it ever - you just felt better being together. So it didn’t surprise you when the next thing JJ asked was:

“Why didn’t you tell me about your ribs” 

You started to chew your lip and felt your face get hot.

“I was worried what you would do” You spoke honestly, connecting your gaze with his. “I was worried what would happen if you knew.”

“Y/N,” He spoke your name softly. “We don’t keep secrets from each other. We never have.”

He reached his hand out for yours and held it, squeezing it lightly. “It’s always been you and me. We don't hide things.”

You felt a lump in your throat when you looked up at him and a tear started to cloud your eye.

“This was different, J” You said quietly, finding it hard to speak.

“I know. I get it.” He tried to reassure you, running his thumb up and down your wrist. “They don't get it, nobody else gets it, but I do.” He looked longingly at you, pleading with you to look at him. You did, and you felt the tear fall.

“Y/N, we’re...we’re not the lucky ones. We didn’t get the privilege of growing up in nice houses with fancy cars or normal parents. We got the shit end of the stick and...that’s just the way it went. But we always had each other. Do you know how many times that kept me going?”

He moved closer to you now, bringing his hand up to your face. “Do you know how many times it got me through my dads benders and fights? To know I wasn’t alone? That I just had to make it through the night and I would get to see you the next day? You, who understood what it was like living with psychos who just hated you simply for being alive? You were the only person I didn’t have to explain it to, you just got it. You made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”

He was speaking so passionately now that his lips were forming spit and his hands were squeezing tight.

“You saved my fucking life, Y/N. When nobody else could, not John B, not Pope or Kie, you.”

You were fully crying now, holding onto JJ’s legs and struggling to breath without hiccuping from the tears.

“I just want to...be able to save yours too.” 

You looked so deeply at him that you thought you would fall into his eyes and never come out, then you leaned forward and hugged him so hard you felt your ribs screaming in protest, but you couldn’t stop. You felt so deeply in love with JJ in that moment that you would have taken a bullet for him if you had to. He was your person.

“You do save me” You whispered into his hair, feeling him wrap his arms around you and pull you towards him, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. “I don't know what I would do without you.”

JJ moved his mouth to be directly beside your ear and breathed hot air before whispering “no matter how bad it gets, you gotta tell me. Promise?”

You nodded and whispered “promise” back truthfully.

~~~~~~~~

A few hours later you and the rest of the pogues were lounging on John B’s boat, enjoying the sunshine and the calm water. JJ was sat on a seat near the back, crafting a boat out of his empty bear can with his pocket knife. You were laid on the front of the boat with your head in Sarah’s lap while she played with your hair. 

When Pope and Kie had turned up later in the morning after getting back from their overnight trip to the mainland, Sarah had filled them in before they came in the house. Kie had started freaking out in front of you about how her dad knew a lawyer and how you were going to sue him for everything he was worth until Pope had told her to shut up and gave you a silent hug, not knowing what to say.

Now all of you were trying to go about your day normally, as if last night had mostly not happened, except instead of playing in the water or sunbathing in your bikini like you normally would you had a ball cap covering your face and a tank top over your bruises.

Kie and Sarah were arguing about something to do with university acceptance procedures and Pope was showing John B something he had been working on that would send an alert to their phones when the boat’s ignition rolled over - just in case.

You looked over at JJ and smiled, he returned your smile and winked. You had been staring at him for most of the morning, he was shirtless and glowing, his muscles moving as he worked.

Just as you started to move to sit up and readjust your position Pope alerted you all to the police boat coming down the marsh towards you. You all scrambled discreetly to hide the beer cans and then resumed your positions of relaxing nonchalantly as the boat pulled up beside yours and docked. JJ made eye contact with you intensely but you shook your head, trying to tell him to stay seated and stay calm.

“Shoupe” John B nodded at him from the captains seat.

Shoupe nodded at everyone, his normally sarcastic and overly-pompous-for-a-deputy expression darker than normal. You felt something in the pit of your stomach when he addressed everyone and his eyes landed on you. He said your name distinctly. You knew each other well enough. He had been to your house...multiple times in your adolescence and was fully aware of the type of household you lived in. He had detained your stepdad once every few months for the last few years for multiple offences. You were basically on a first name...or last name basis. You couldn’t count the amount of times he had left his personal business card and direct extension with you, donning a pitying expression, as you and your mom picked your stepdad up and paid his bail with your rent money.

“What can I do for you?” You replied, standing up slowly. Something felt off. He didn’t look angry or like he was there to reprimand you. He looked...concerned. “Shoupe?” You insisted.

He looked at your face and his shoulders got stiff around his ears, his hands resting on his gun belt.

“Y/N...I think you should come with us.”

JJ stood up and dropped his beer can boat carving, white knuckling his pocket knife.

“She did nothing wrong, whats this about?” He started to walk towards you but John B put his arm out to hold him back. 

Your limbs felt tingly and your stomach was flipping. Shoupe ignored JJ and looked back at you solemnly. His eyes and his face and the way he looked at you like he had the worst news in the world made your legs weak. He wouldn’t have driven the police boat out here, 20 minutes one way into the marsh, for no reason. He pursed his lips and looked around the boat before looking back at you, shaking his head and sighing.

“It’s your mom.”

____________

Tags: @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch 

[voidstilesplease]

in another life

part two

Stiles assures Theo answers for all of their questions -god knows they have so many- tomorrow. Theo's reluctant at first, doesn't intend to let go of Stiles's words hanging in between them: "You think she's alive?" Eventually, Theo nods, finding something in Stiles's eyes and placing his trust in him. An odd feeling of protectiveness settles in Stiles's stomach at the vulnerability that Theo freely displays - in the past, he used to act guarded like everyone was out to get him. Granted, Theo had conned most of them before with charm and fake tears, and it's not above him to try it again if Theo could gain something worthy from it. But Stiles doesn't feel the usual tingle in his bones when he meets some shady criminal mastermind. His instincts have gotten him this far, so he gives it credit.

Stiles sighs. Innocent until proven guilty. He hopes Deaton has answers that expose the truth.

In the meantime, they have saddled him with more responsibility: bringing Theo home with him. Theo refuses to be stuck with either Liam or Mason any longer, it is unwise to put Theo alone with Melissa, and stupid to leave him unattended. So Stiles is the only viable choice. Plus, Theo thinks they're together. It only makes sense. Maybe.

It probably won't to his dad initially, but hey, after a while of normalcy, even he will acknowledge the need for something to go down - even dressed as Theo Raeken.

•••

They're in Stiles's Jeep, driving home to the Stilinski's, and it is a little disconcerting how Theo seems to be accustomed to his car. Theo had seen and been in the Jeep before, but this is different. He's too comfortable in the cramped space, even knows how to operate Stiles's defective radio. And the way he leans against the seat on the passenger's side and knows where to keep the screwdriver Stiles uses to manipulate the ignition is boggling his head worse than the snow outside.

Stiles draws in a breath, glancing sideways to his quiet company. "So, um, Deaton," he says, "we're going to Dr. Deaton tomorrow."

Theo turns to him, frowning. "What kind of doctor? Are you taking me to a shrink? Babe, I'm not crazy. What happened is freaky, but you have to believe me."

Okay, the babe thing, they're going to have to iron that wrinkle as soon as possible. Not even Lydia called him babe when they dated, and certainly not Malia. It's a cosmic joke that the once bane of his existence gets to call him that first. "No, he's not a shrink," Stiles promises him. "He's a veterinarian. But he knows about these things."

Theo arches a brow, "He knows about teleportation?"

"Telepor-" Stiles creases his forehead, jerking his head to Theo. The latter is expectant when he looks back. Stiles blinks, disbelieving and a little horrified. There's also a small bubble of hysteria beginning to form in his stomach. Somehow, this takes the cake in the weirdness of the situation. Because, of course, Theo also doesn't remember he's a chimera, does he? Blowing a heavy breath, he turns back to the road. He rubs the side of his temple, where it's starting to hurt, and purses his lips. "Yeah, sure. Teleportation."

Silence hangs in between them for a moment, Stiles sighing when he takes the last turn to his street. He can feel the burn of Theo's stare at the side of his face.

"You really don't remember we're together?" Theo sounds genuinely small when he speaks. "Then why are you here, if not to take me home? The two -Liam and Mason- are accusing me of having amnesia. But it's you who can't remember."

Stiles opens his mouth, but he doesn't know what to say. He knows that if he tells Theo that he remembers an illusory life, it's only going to invite more questions Stiles has no answers yet. In honesty, he's still reeling until now, and he's too tired to consider diving into research mode immediately, much less form a cohesive plan other than to bring Theo to Deaton first. And the best thing for them both to do before then is rest. They can't do that if Stiles stays up all night convincing Theo that they're not even friends, that he was a lying, conniving chimera asshole that tried to break his pack once, before turning a new leaf and helping them, and then disappearing on them like a bubble one day. Oh, and yeah, that it's so twisted for him to think his sister was alive when he had allowed her to die when he was nine.

No. Rest, Deaton, and then fuck up some shit - Stiles is doing this in that order.

"Hm," is what he ends up saying. Stiles pulls in the driveway, noting the blue truck already parked there. He's relieved to find a change of topic. He clears his throat, pointing at the vehicle. "That's your truck. Corey, Mason's boyfriend, drove it here."

Theo doesn't look away from him for the entire minute it takes Stiles to turn the engine off and gather his belongings. When he looks at Theo, that's only when the other man lowers his head and breathes. Theo nods and gets out of the car, moving towards the truck. Stiles silently prays for more strength if this is how awkward it is going to be for the whole evening until the morning.

Theo is studying his blue truck, eyeing it with trepidation. Stiles slings his messenger bag and stands beside him. Theo turns to him, shaking his head. "This isn't my car."

Stiles moves to the bed of Theo's pickup. "It is," he tells Theo. 

Stiles is, unfortunately, familiar enough with this car, and not with pleasant memories. Stiles lifts the haphazardly strewn cloth covering most of the space of the truck bed and makes a noise of disgust with what he finds underneath. It was definitely tidier before.

Theo also peeks under the cloth and pulls his face in a similar reaction. An alarming amount of empty plastic noodle cups and take-out boxes litter the covered area. "It can't be mine because I'm not crazy for instant ramen."

Stiles drops the cloth and walks to the driver's seat. He cups his hands on either side of his eyes and looks inside through the window. He finds a folded blanket at the backseat and a pink sweater on top of the pile of clothes. The chimera wore the hell out of those, Stiles remembers grudgingly. Transferring his scrutiny on the passenger side, he sees empty water bottles and coke cans, and old receipts. What the hell has Theo been up to that he can't even throw his trash out or attempt to be less sloppy?

One thing is sure, though. The car is where Theo lives; the pizza in the backseat looks stale but not molded. He faces Theo and gives him a grim nod, "Let's discuss the condition of your car and your unhealthy lifestyle tomorrow, yeah?"

Theo huffs, wanting to protest and eyeing his car in disgust, but shrugs in agreement.

•••

His father is working the night shift, so explaining Theo is a problem for future Stiles, which makes him sag in relief under the hot spray of his shower. When he's finished, he changes into clean sweatpants and an old Christmas ugly sweater and goes back to his room.

Theo is already sitting on his temporary bed on the floor. Stiles refuses to make him sleep on the couch where the kitchen and knives are near. At least, inside his room, he can fight him should Theo attempt anything at all. Stiles has gotten better at hand-to-hand combat since the FBI, and also a very light sleeper and sometimes prone to insomnia, especially on stressful occasions like this. Any minor shuffling from Theo will alert him. Not that he thinks Theo will do anything. His impulses tell him that Theo's memory dilemma is not made-up, and he's truthful this time, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.

Theo looks up when he enters, offering a small smile. Stiles's eyes catch sight of the outline of a necklace hidden underneath the collar of Theo's borrowed shirt. Stiles's clothes look a bit tight on him but otherwise, more comfortable than the dirty jeans he was wearing earlier. 

"It's so weird to see your old bed," Theo says, looking at the said bed. "Noah brought you a bigger one so that we can share when we visit. I wonder what happened to it?"

Stiles drops onto his bed with a small bounce. He didn't expect that. "Oh, um,"

Theo meets his eyes, "And Roscoe," a shadow crosses his face. "You took down all of the polaroid pictures we put of us. You even replaced the screwdriver that I gave you with an old one."

He sounds so betrayed that Stiles is stunned by what he's hearing. What startles him most, though, is: "You know my Jeep's name?"

At this question, Theo looks downright affronted. But Stiles has every reason to be surprised. His mom, his dad, and Scott are the only people apart from him who knows his Jeep's name -not another soul. Not even Lydia.

"Of course, I know your Jeep's name," Theo responds with a deepening scowl. "We've been together for four years, Stiles."

Stiles raises a hand to halt Theo as his cogs turn in his head. A swell of panic takes root in him. This memory thing is more serious than he initially thought. Theo's not only hallucinating a different life but he also somehow knows things he shouldn't. The screwdriver compartment, his broken radio, his Jeep's name -what else does he know that he isn't supposed to?

"Okay," Stiles finally says, lowering his hand and barrier from Theo, who's still glowering. It seems he has lost his patience with Stiles, as well. If this continues, Stiles might snap, too. So he says as appeasing as he could. "Let's say that whatever happened to you affected our memories of each other. But we'll go to Dr. Deaton for answers tomorrow, and then we can go back to our normal lives. Yes? Do you trust me?"

As soon as he says it, Stiles wants to take it back. It seems like a strange concept to ask Theo, of all people, to trust Stiles after everything. As crazy as Stiles actually trusting Theo. But here they are.

Theo doesn't reply for a long time, but he looks pensive and considering as he glares. In the end, he huffs in surrender, shoulders drooping in defeat. For the first time, the bags under his eyes become more prominent in his features. He looks so weary, hurt, and confused. Stiles is well acquainted with that look. It's the look of someone who hasn't been sleeping well. With the state of Theo's truck, Stiles has no problem picturing the man twist-and-turning to find a good position and not finding any.

Theo dips his head, replying with a rough voice, "Yeah. I trust you."

Before Stiles can say any more, Theo gives him his back and reclines on his mattress. He pulls the covers on himself, like a shield, and mumbles good night to Stiles.

Sighing, Stiles turns the desk lamp off and lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling for who knows how long. After a while, he exhales and rubs the bridge of his nose. His body is exhausted, and so is his mind, but they're not shutting off like they're supposed to. He almost wishes he is back in his dorm room in Virginia, staying up to piece the puzzles of a case. He has dealt with mundane human crises for so long that coaxing the supernatural mojo back appears to be an impossibly draining affair.

When he glances back at Theo on the floor, he pauses as he notices it. There's a blank inked mark on Theo's nape: a tattoo that Stiles knows for sure he didn't have the last time they saw each other. He turns to his side to look closely at it.

The tattoo is of a circle interlaced with three interconnected ovals. It reminds him closely of Derek's triskelion tattoo. But unlike Derek's, Theo's mark gives him an ominous feeling.

Because Stiles is sure, it isn't an optical illusion when it glowed in the darkness of his room for a second.

~•~