#help me......... anyways i got paid to draw this happy birthday to me

[taiyami]

Have you ever drawn art of your selfships before?

I actually drew this quick one today ...

No further comments please .... (rolls around on the ground kicking my feet)

[oneshlut]

Hello!!!! Love your writing!!!! May i request a platonic Sun and Moon (or eclipse its up to you!) With a favorite child reader? I just think that would be adorable!!!

P.s. i LOVE your writing!!!! And your headcanons!!! Dont overwork yourself!!!! Keep being cool/pos!!!!!!!!

A/N: UGHHH you guys are SO SWEET!!! pls stop im gonna IMPLODE /j tyty for all the kind words, also i really needed some1 to tell me not to overwork myself lmaoao, ive been getting so many requests lately.. promise i'll get to all of y'all! OHOH AND I LOVE WRITING FOR THESE THREE! and child readers for them, especially!

(since im feeling extra silly i'll give you a fanfic recommendation: New Consciousness! i think it can be found on tumblr too.. its a yandere sun/moon fic&child reader, one of my favs and greatest inspo!)

Your Best Friend (Sun/Moon/Eclipse & Child!Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: General meeting, friendship, and attachment headcanons for The Daycare Attendant with a child reader.

Extra Info: Sun and Moon share bodies, just like in the game. If I mention them talking to each other, they're talking with their shared consciousness.

Sun:

Sun can usually tell when someone new joins the daycare. If he doesn't hear the obvious audio clue of the ballpit, he'll have a sensor that will go off so that he's notified. Every time Sun gets a notification, you can almost see his built-in smile grow wider. A new friend!

As a child new to the Pizzaplex, entering the daycare for the first time was terrifying. I don't think the current horrible reputation on the Fazbear company helped one bit. The animatronics were definitely scary, you didn't need to know that there was a chance you could go missing because of them.

But the daycare had attendants, so that calmed your nerves. Slightly. Until you realized, they too were animatronics. The statue in the entrance of the daycare was massive compared to you. You suddenly wished that you hadn't accepted that birthday invitation.

Sun immediately goes in to meet you! He's practically radiating happiness onto you, skipping to where you were. He's definitely very intense when first meeting you, waving to you like a maniac. You eventually find yourself getting used to his upbeat energy, agreeing to do most activities with him that he brings up. This includes making macaroni art, crudely put-together paper pals, and a few drawings that he's sure to hang up in his room afterwards.

The security officers seem to catch on over the next few weeks how Sun has grown attached to one child. It pretty much went against his code, as he was supposed to be keeping a watchful eye over all the kids, not just one. But the officers at Freddy's get paid minimum wage, so they don't really care about the two of you unless they've got a lawsuit on their hands.

If you were ever feeling down, he'd immediately try to cheer you up. He will spend the entire day with you if he needs to! He may be intense, clingy, and won't let you out of his sight for a mere 2 seconds, but he's got good intentions. Sun hates seing children sad, and the one thing he knew how to do best was cheer them up. Whether this be silly faces, drawings, or hide n' seek, he always had something new to distract you from the little raincloud utop your head. However, Sun knows he can be a bit chaotic at times. If you want him to, he'll give you space. Sometimes, kids just need calm, and that was definitely not his strong suit.

Sun tries not to have "favorite" children, but he couldn't deny he was growing a bit attached. You were enjoying his company anyway, so why should he have to stop? You seemed much less nervous around him aswell, so as far as he knew, he was doing the right thing. A new term had suddenly seemed to form in his memory bank: "best friend".

Moon:

Now, Moon definitely caught you off guard. You had grown so used to Sun's warm, exatatic nature, that when the atmosphere to the daycare had a sudden chill, yet calming feel to it, you immediately thought something was wrong.

Given this, you met Moon when, apparently, Sun was going under.. technical support of some kind. You didn't know the full extent to the details, but what you did know was that Sun was gone, and in replacement, Moon took over both the day and night shifts. You watched as the kids in the daycare scrambled around, some trying to hide, and some just trying to get all their energy out before Moon came out for the night shift. You had intended to just stay away from him in a random corner, since most kids seemed afraid of him, but with the "night" shift coming up, you really had no way to avoid him.

Moon wasn't in the mood for hide n' seek. Not like Sun usually was. He recognized that he had a job to do, so if anything, he'd get it done. He did enjoy working for kids--it was in his code, after all--but this didn't distract him from his work. As most children were, you were scared of him at first. Moon normally just forced the kid to go to bed, either with a Moondrop candy, or tame threats like time-out. But you seemed.. different. He didn't want to be seen as mean, not to you. Instead, he tried to gain your trust by telling you that he was friends with Sun, assuming you were more favorable towards Sun.. again, as most kids were. Surprisingly, he was right to assume.

You, on the other hand, were thrown completely off guard. For the most part, you had thought Moon was this mean, strict, and harsh version of Sun--as you've heard from other children. But instead, you found him to be much more calming, if anything. Maybe the kids just hated having to tone down their energy, that when someone forced them to, they grew naturally afraid of them. That was your reasoning, anyway.

Unlike Sun, Moon is more of a "denier" than anything. He had things to do, and didn't need things getting in the way. But you were different. You weren't a distraction--no, far from it. He wouldn't admit it, but as Sun did, he grew attached. Out of all the kids he's taken care of during his career, you were definitely the calmest. Your presence is.. nice.

If you're going to anyone for comfort, it's Moon. This is if Sun didn't manage to cheer you up previously. Moon's version of comfort was more of quiet, small ambiance, plushies, blankets, and pillows. Sometimes storytimes! That's one method the two had in common. So if you ever have trouble sleeping when nap time comes around, Moon may or may not give you special treatment to ensure you sleep soundly. This means absolutely everything I just listed above for comfort.

He soon discovered what it was like to spend the whole day with you. He'd now ask Sun every now and then if he could take over the day shift for him. At first Sun denied, that would mean less time with you! But, if he made it equal..

Sun made a somewhat "deal" with Moon, where they would now just take days instead of shifts. This.. didn't look good to the staff, though. Instead of making them go back to their shifts, though, they would make sure they both got what they wanted. And in the staff's eyes, what the shared animatronic wanted was to each have both shifts. Not too far off.

Eclipse:

A day passed one day, where neither Sun or Moon was watching over the daycare. In replacement were just the.. extremely creepy staff bots. You began to grow worried--if he'd ever come back again. Luckily, you only had to wait a day.

The day he came back, the animatronic was.. new. Different. You tried to listen in on the clumps of children's conversations--listening until the words blended together to form the name "Eclipse". The name definitely made sense for their character.

To say you were ecstatic would be an understatement. You were practically as happy as Sun was when he first met you! Eclipse was everything you could ever want--it was both of your best friends put into one personality, one animatronic. But if anyone was more excited than you, it would be Eclipse himself. One thing that was different now was his ability to tone his excitement and clinginess down. With the two brought together, their personality fell on a balance.

Meeting you was much less of a shock for him as it was for you. You liked the new look, though. As soon as Eclipse caught your eye, he immediately skipped over to squeeze you in a tight hug. Don't worry, he tried not to squeeze too hard. Even if you were confused at first, you warmed up to him quickly. You noted his voice as he spoke to you for the first time. Not too frantic like Sun's, yet not too quiet like Moon's. Something about it was.. comforting. Which leads me to my next topic.

Eclipse is the best source of comfort you can get. He can most likely tell if you're having a bad day. If you ever feel overwhelmed/overstimulated at the daycare, he'll take you to his room for the first time. If he's being honest, he's never really shown anyone his room before--until now, that is. You immediately fell in love with the room! You would ask to go there more often, and on some days, stay in there the entire day. Eclipse didn't mind, though! Anything to cheer you up, after all.

Eventually, your birthday will come around, in which Eclipse goes all out. He didn't truly expect you to visit the daycare on your birthday--he had figured you'd like to see the Glamrocks instead, but no! Eclipse was honestly so honored that you'd want to spend your birthday with him of all animatronics. With this in mind, he tries to make today the best day of your life! The best day for you in the daycare, at that. He won't go too overboard, but he will spend all his time having fun with you. Eclipse would schedule activities to do, such as macaroni pictures, creating puppets to be used in future puppet shows, and if he's feeling nice enough, he'll sneak in some FizzyFaz into the daycare. When the day starts to near an end, he'll take you backstage to his room, where he has fully decorated the small spot with birthday balloons, banners, strings, and small gifts scattered across the floor. In the center was a.. poorly made cake. Eclipse was only an animatronic after all, his coding didn't have any baking intelligence in his mainframe. It was the thought that counted.

Going home afterwards was definitely a challenge, though. You were practically dragged away from the daycare, and Eclipse had never felt more flattered. On your drive back, you had discovered that you had a new best friend. Animatronic or not.

[akihabaradivision]

ARB Birthday Special: Keiko Yumi

~~ December 22nd ~~

"The first draft is just you telling yourself the story."

Login Lines:

*Sighs* "Finally done! Hopefully once I send these in, my publisher will get off my back for the next month or so. ...And in record time too! Once I drop these off I can head to work and see what assignments Nemu-san has for me. ...Hmm? A message from... Nemu-san? 'Work is canceled. Enjoy your birthday.' My... birthday?!"

"How foolish can I get? I've been so busy with work I neglected to notice today was the day of my birth! I messaged Nemu-san back thanking her, though canceling work was unnecessary. ...She didn't message me back, but I assume it was because she was busy with work of her own. ...But still, what am I going to do with this free time I have?"

Voice Lines:

"I received a lot of 'happy birthdays' and such from the people of Akihabara, which is nice. ...You know, it's funny. Back when I was younger, nobody really paid me any attention. I was just another face in the crowd, so to speak. And if they did pay me attention, it was usually always negative. I can't count the number of times I got bullied back in high school. I definitely don't miss those days."

"...I don't believe it. Otome-sama, herself, sent me a 'happy birthday'! I don't believe it! I always figured that I wasn't worthy enough to be in the Prime Minister's shadow. That I was just one of the many people working under her. I mean, not that I don't mind working for Chuohku, but... too be recognized by the Prime Minister, herself. This is an honor I don't take for granted!"

"What the...? Where did all these gifts come from?! Are these all for me? Most of them are from my friends at school. ...Ha. Like I mentioned earlier, when I was younger I was used to being ignored or bullied. But now, I'm adored. I don't know if its because of my manga or just because I'm in the D.R.B. ...One thing is for sure, I definitely don't miss high school. Uni beats that place any day."

"Sheesh, it's going to take a while to get through all of these gifts. Here's a fancy one! It says it's from... my mom. Tch, great. What did that hag have the audacity to send me for my birthday? ...Some cash for my birthday? How original. And what's this now? ...A photo of my high school graduation? ...Tch, I won't ask how she managed to take a photo of me like this. Probably asked grandma for it. The nerve of her! She thinks me so soft sending me this will make me forgive her?! To hell with that, and her!" *Throws the present in the garbage, not giving it a second thought*

"Criss? What are you doing here? I mean, not that I'm not glad you're here, but I thought you mentioned in your last letter you were stranded on Hokkaido exploring a haunted hospital or something. ...You hitched a ride with someone? How many times do I have to tell you that's not safe? There are a lot of dangerous people out there, Criss. Any one of them could do something to you if you're not careful." *Sighs* "Well, I suppose the important thing is you're back home and safe. But please be more mindful next time."

"...You got me a birthday gift? Not that's it not unappreciated, but how? I thought you were out of money? ...Ah, that explains it, I guess. So, what is it? ...A hoodie? Oh, and it features a manga artist on it. Cute. It looks really nice. Plus, you got it in pink, my favorite color. Thanks Criss. This was really sweet."

"Nikki? You're here? Wow, someone alert the papers! The recluse actually left her room, for my birthday, no less! I'll definitely have to mark this date down on calendar! ...Haha! Sorry, I couldn't help myself. But really, I'm glad to see you've gotten out of your room, at least, once this week."

"Anyway, are you here to wish me a 'happy birthday' too or... A gift? From you? ...Wow, I'm definitely going to have mark this day down. ...A drawing tablet? ...Wait, this is a Wicom Cintiq Pro, isn't it? Do you know how expensive these things are, Nikki?!" *Sighs* "Fine, I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. But I really find it disgusting that you earn more than I do when you work far less. ...Yeah, whatever."

Criss Lines:

"Hey Keiko! Happy birthday! ...I was stranded, but thankfully, I managed to hitch a ride with some nice gentlemen who gave me a lift back to Tokyo! Oh, come on, Keiko! They were really nice gentlemen! Trust me, I have an inkling if I feel someone is dangerous or not. ...Alright, I'll be more mindful, but I'm really okay, as you can see."

"Anyway, here's your birthday gift! ...Oh, my check came in from my YouTube videos! It wasn't as much as usual, but it was enough to get you a gift. Ta-da! It's a mangaka hoodie! I saw it on the way here, and thought it would really suit you! ...Thanks Keiko! Glad you like it. Promise me you'll wear it, okay?"

Nikki Lines:

"Hey Keiko. ...Are you quite finished? ...You know, if you're going to act like this, then I'll just leave. I don't have to stand here and be ridiculed for my life choices. ...Whatever. Anyway, here's your birthday gift. ...Yes, it's a drawing tablet, one of the most expensive ones on the market, FYI. The guy I ordered it from said this would help with artists who draw digitally. ...Look, if you don't want it, I can always return it and get my money back. ...What can I say? Video games are my bread and butter and they earn me money."

[ahtsumu]

the mystery of love ; kuroo tetsurou

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

synopsis: kuroo tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. he believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. but that doesn’t mean he can’t believe in love.

tag(s): sweet summer lovin’, friends to lovers, inspired by call my by your name, university student!kuroo tetsurou, lab intern!kuroo tetsurou, so much pining lol, fluff, angst, slow burn ; warning(s): profanity, mentions of alcohol ingestion (it’s legal bc they’re in italy!), suggestive themes ; wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday tetsu!! i hope you guys like this. i really enjoyed writing it ♡

Kuroo Tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. He believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. At least, that’s what he tells you. Sometimes you treat this information as a source of hope; other times, you’re not sure what to make of it.

This, you realise with his shoulder pressed against yours and both your bodies sprawled across his wrinkled bed sheets, is one of those other times. You turn your face to look at his.

“What?” he asks, one side of his mouth curling up in a smile.

For a moment, you wonder what would happen if you just said it. You could blame the alcohol. Get away with it scot-free. While you mull the option over in the dead silence of his room, your brain suddenly registers the music still playing from the living room. The low bass reverberating through the walls. How close your lips are. The sound of his breaths.

“Earth to Y/N?”

And like that, the little what-if that rose in your mind falls back with its tail between its legs. You bite your lip, look around his room like the walls have a script printed on them. Unfortunately, they do not.

“I was just thinking about my shirt.” It’s not great, but it’s the best you can do while still feeling the vodka and orange juice burn in your stomach. And smelling it on yourself.

Kuroo’s laugh booms through the room and you can’t help but giggle along with him. “I said I was sorry!” he says, hazel eyes twinkling with mirth. He pauses and glances at his closet, then nods his head in its direction. “Take a hoodie. Your pick.”

A smile–– one you try to downplay but fail miserably to–– creeps up your face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo replies. “You can also shower here if you want. It's the least I can do after spilling my drink all over you.”

When you emerge from Kuroo’s bathroom in one of his thinner hoodies, a lot soberer and drying your hair, he’s not on the bed anymore. Quietly, you step out of his room and look for him through the house. People are crashed everywhere–– on the sofa, over the kitchen counter, even propped up against walls. The floor is covered with plastic cups and mysterious pools of liquid. Wrinkling your nose, you try your best to step around the messes, looking in every corner in the house for the raven-haired boy.

You find him back in his room, actually. He’s back on his bed scrolling through his phone, the light illuminating his sharp features. When he hears you close the door behind you, he looks up, eyes immediately zeroing in on the black hoodie over your torso. The corner of his mouth twitches up.

“Where’d you go?” you both ask at the same time. He chuckles; you grin. Crawling back onto the bed, you tell him to go first.

“I went around to make sure nothing’s broken,” he explains. “Perks of being the only sober intern in the house, I guess.”

A beat passes.

This house is rented. You forgot about that. All his expenses are paid for by your mother’s lab. You forgot about that. He fits in your world so well, like maybe he’s always had a spot there, that you forgot that Kuroo Tetsurou is only here for the summer.

“Right.”

Kuroo raises a brow. “And you?”

“I went to look for you.”

He smiles and holds his hands out like a magician at the end of a trick. “Well, you found me.”

“Yeah,” you muse. “I guess I did.” Aren’t you lucky.

With that, something shifts in the air. A contemplative expression crosses Kuroo’s face. Maybe he’s realised how his words come out sometimes. Kuroo often says things that sound like they have more than one meaning and it used to throw you off, but now you just go with it. You’ve even picked up that habit yourself. “Do you ever wish that you’d met someone earlier? Maybe under different circumstances?” he asks.

Sighing, you fall back against his mattress and stare up at the ceiling. Telling the truth feels easier when you can’t see him. “Yeah. All the time.” A few seconds pass. “Do you think we would’ve been friends if we went to the same college?”

He also lies down. You’re both back in the same positions you were in an hour ago, but something’s changed. “No,” he admits. You’re not surprised–– that’s what you’d expected. “I’d be a junior and you’d be a freshman. We probably would’ve never met. And even if we had, I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with a… freshie.” He chuckles softly at the end. “And look at me now,” he adds softly, more to himself than you. You look over at his face. A contemplative smile rests on his lips.

That urge to just say it returns.

“Kuroo, I think––”

“You’re my favourite p–– oh, my bad. You first.”

And it goes away again.

“Um, uh,” you stutter, “how long do you have left here?”

Kuroo raises his brows. “On this planet? Hopefully a while, Y/N.” He sees your unamused expression and drops the front. “Three more weeks.”

Your eyes widen. Eight weeks have already passed. Blood rushes to your ears. Eight entire weeks have already passed, meaning that in three weeks, Kuroo Tetsurou will leave forever. And in four, you will, too. Except you’ll come back. You’ve done so every summer since you were born, probably will do until you die.

But this place will never be the same as it used to. Not after him.

“Y/N?” Once everything comes back into focus, you see the concern riddling his features. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah.”

Say it.

“You didn’t have too much to drink, right?”

Say it.

“I just got buzzed. What about you?”

“The only drink I was planning on having all went to your shirt.”

Say it.

“Kuroo.”

“Yeah?”

Not yet.

“Let’s go on an adventure.”

At two AM, everything is different. The streets feel different, the villas look different, and you–– you can’t put your finger on it but Kuroo Tetsurou has changed, too. He sits behind the wheel of your father’s white 1953 Cadillac with the convertible roof down, unruly hair blown back by the breeze, a euphoric grin stretched over his face. In the passenger’s seat, you sit with an equally large beam and your hands raised into the dark sky.

“Where to, Miss?” he shouts over the wind.

“The stars,” you shout back with a laugh. Kuroo’s cat-like eyes briefly flit over to your side profile, lips curving to form a smaller, more tender smile. But you miss that–– your gaze falls on him just a second after his return to the road.

“I heard you say Jack’s,” he says, smirking.

The 24/7 diner sticks out like a sore thumb in the row of sun-baked stucco and stone buildings with its bold neon lights and shiny exterior. During the day, it seems gaudy, way too American for a small town in northern Italy. But at night, this place feels like home. You’ve been stumbling into Jack’s completely shit-faced since you were sixteen. Of course, all those other times had been with the kids of your mother’s coworkers. All those other times, you could hardly remember what you even ordered when you woke up hours later.

But this time, you walk in with Kuroo Tetsurou at half-past-two in the morning, the chemicals running through your bloodstream epinephrine and dopamine, not ethanol; if you’re drunk then it’s on a feeling and your only poison is the boy next to you. You study his face and consider that thought. No, he’s not poison. He’s the antidote.

“Y/N!” the server exclaims, rushing over with two menus. “And Kuroo! My two favourite customers, but together this time!” Giovanni ushers you two to a booth by the window and takes your orders, purely for show, of course. He knows your orders by heart: the Lorenzo for Kuroo and the Quentin for you.

“With fries on both, please,” Kuroo adds, throwing you a wink. “Aren’t I a gentleman?”

“You only did that to have more for yourself,” you reply drily. Having him over at your house for dinner every night made picking up his idiosyncrasies so unbelievably easy. You know them like they’re your own. You know him like he’s your own.

Kuroo clutches his chest and pretends to be offended, then changes the conversation to what happened at the lab today, or rather, yesterday. That your mother and the other researchers are so close to finding a cure for the strain of virus that’s recently hit crickets in southern Italy.

“You should drop by again sometime,” he says. “Last time you came around was, what, two weeks ago?”

Your face breaks in a grin. “Are you saying you’ve missed me? Chemistry getting boring?” you tease, drawing a loud laugh from him.

“Sodium hydrogen, you little shit.” Your mother’s used this one on you before, but hearing it from him makes you giggle anyway.

Giovanni comes back with two plates, each loaded with fries. You both say your thanks and he retreats to the kitchen again, but not before wiggling his eyebrows at your reddening faces. Wordlessly, you grab your fork and knife and transfer at least half of your fries onto Kuroo’s plate. Kuroo stares at you with the slightest smile. That look sends your stomach into flips.

“What?” you question nonchalantly, cutting into your burger.

“Nothing,” he says, mirroring your actions. “Nothing at all.”

It’s hard to imagine that after spending almost every day together for eight weeks straight that there’s still more to learn about each other, but there is. You tell him more about your real home. Your best friend who called you at 3 AM last night because of timezones. Stories from every summer before this one, when you were a different person in the same place you are now.

He tells you more about Kenma, his best friend from high school. How they played on one of the best volleyball teams in Japan. Stories from training camp, literature class, the metro ride home after school–– you listen to every single one in rapt attention. There’s not enough time in the world for all the things you want to know about Kuroo Tetsurou, so you take what you can get. If only you’d known him before you’d known him.

“If we’d met earlier here, do you think we would’ve been friends?” you ask after paging Giovanni for the check.

“No,” he replies, picking up a few remaining fries with his fork instead of his fingers. The corners of your mouth turn up. That’s your thing. He considers the scenario seriously. “I think we met right when we should have.”

“What about the future?” you press, leaning into the conversation. “Let’s say we meet in two years here, instead of now. Would we be friends?”

Kuroo sets his fork down, eyes you steadily. “What’s this about?”

You blink. “What?”

“What’s with all these hypotheticals today?” Perhaps worried that he came off too harshly, Kuroo adds, “I thought I was the scientist.”

“I just… it feels like I’ve known you since forever.” This feels like it was meant to be, you don’t say. And I want to know you forever.

A sigh–– fond, but still a sigh–– blows through his lips. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates,” he says with a wicked grin.

“Are you calling me your soulmate?” The question, shamelessly genuine, painfully hopeful, leaves your mouth without you intending it to and you regret it instantly. Because Kuroo Tetsurou has told you many times that he does not believe in soulmates.

Is it so bad to dream, though?

You watch him carefully but he doesn’t say anything, just continues smiling wryly like you’d intended to tease him. Like he knows that you know better. But you don’t.

“Are you?” he suddenly replies. Sharp eyes hold yours, daring you to respond. Do you dare?

At that moment, Giovanni returns with the check. “Who’s paying?” he asks, unaware of the tense exchange that just occurred across the table. Inaudibly, you sigh in relief. Kuroo is about to say that it’s on him when he catches himself in the middle of his sentence, looks your way, then back to Giovanni. He says you’ll go Dutch. You nod in approval.

“So,” Kuroo drawls once you’ve both paid for your meals. “Where do we go from here?”

Good question.

Kuroo Tetsurou has never been to an outdoor club period. And though he’s been clubbing, he has never once gone dancing in his lifetime. You tell him that’s about to change as he parks the car in a lot near the venue. Before him, all your summer nights were spent here.

“You’ve been here for two months and you haven’t been to an outdoor club yet?” you ask while unbuckling your seatbelt. That can’t be possible. If you’d been in his shoes… an attractive college student in a foreign country for the summer, you would have gone wild.

“Nope. I’ve been a little busy, y’know, spending my days in a lab, handling chemicals, studying viruses, washing lab equipment, writing up reports for your mother and her colleagues, working on my own research on the side… the usual.” He flashes you a bright, sarcastic smile.

“Poor baby,” you coo, ruffling his hair. Kuroo laughs while you continue messing with the dark locks. “Was your first full day here the only tourist-day you’ve had so far?” His weekends, you already know, are spent either lounging around cafés, pools, or the great outdoors with you or the interns. But you’d assumed he’d had time to do some exploring on his own.

Kuroo nods. “And my guide wasn’t even that great,” he mutters, shooting you a dark look. “She sped through every attraction and hardly spoke a word outside of the tour to me. I think she hated me.”

You giggle and open the door, letting the music from the outdoor speakers infiltrate the bubble inside your car. “Maybe she was just nervous!” you say as you get out. That’s a lie.

“About what?” Kuroo follows suit, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “I was so friendly to you and you just brushed me off each time.” He pouts.

But you don’t reply. Instead, you just grab his hands and pull him towards the venue. As you step into the boundaries marked by fairy lights and rustic wooden fences, Kuroo stops in his tracks and tugs on your intertwined hands. You glance down before up, trying to memorise how his hand looks around yours in the few seconds you can steal.

“Y/N,” Kuroo says. The strobe lights paint his skin pink, blue, purple like it’s a canvas. “Tell me why you were nervous.” Grammatically, it’s a command. And yet it sounds like he’s begging.

“What’s it mean to you?” you ask, feeling your heartbeat speed up in your chest. So what if you just… said it? What would happen?

“Everything?” he replies with a cheeky smile. The odds that he seriously means that are slim. But… they’re there. You shake that possibility out of your mind. That’s just the hope talking.

“Depends how convincingly you say it.” You tug on his arm. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” But he doesn’t budge–– he just continues to stand by the entrance of the club with an expectant look on his face. People are starting to stare.

“Fine,” you say with an eye roll. “I’ll tell you." Kuroo smirks, something self-congratulatory ready to leave his mouth, but then you let go of his hand and dance backwards into the throng of moving bodies. “But first, you’re gonna have to dance with me!” 

You allow yourself to be swallowed by the lively music, the people, the moment. Seconds later you’re deep enough into the crowd that you lose sight of Kuroo. Something in you says that he’ll show up soon, though. For now, you let yourself breathe. Forget about the heaviness of what-if’s, the itch to confess, the dread of the aftermath. Feelings are a lot like gravity. Sometimes they keep you grounded, other times, they weigh you down. This is one of those other times.

You dance up to a friendly-looking group of teens your age. Three guys and two girls. You shout your name and follow up with how it’s nice to meet them, hoping one of them finds you nice enough to keep around. Dancing alone in a club is one of the worst things that can ever happen to someone. Luckily, one of the girls–– the one wearing a purple wig–– pulls you in for a hug, drunkenly shouting back, “Bianca!” Bianca pushes you into their circle next to one of the guys and, just like that, you two start moving to the beat, feeling it in your feet, shoulders, hips. At one point, you turn around and take a good look at his face. The guy’s cute enough, but he’s not Kuroo. Still, you say nothing as he moves closer to you and grabs your hand, lifting it up and motioning for you to twirl.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grip firmly onto your waist and pull you out of the circle. “Hey!” You look down, suddenly realising they’re Kuroo’s. A shiver runs down your spine. He spins you around to face him. His lips are set in a firm line, eyes completely devoid of humour, nostrils slightly flared.

“Hi,” you say quietly, testing the waters.

“Hi,” he replies curtly. His hands are still on your waist. Selfishly, you choose not to point that out. Instead, you try to defuse the situation with a light question. Playful tone.

“Where were you this whole time?”

“Looking for you.”

“Well… you found me.” You flash him a sheepish grin. A peace offering of some sort.

“I did.” He doesn’t take it.

“Lucky you.”

Irritation finally seeps through his features. “You just left me on the dance floor!” he snaps. “And then when I find you after searching the entire venue, you’re dancing up on some random guy!”

“It was in good fun!” you retort, wriggling out of his grip. “And I wasn’t dancing up on him.” You want to ask if he’s jealous so badly, but you take a good look at his face and decide against that.

“Fun?” he asks incredulously. “Worrying about losing you, worrying about myself getting lost, then having to worry about that guy after finding you isn’t very fucking fun to me, Y/N!” The words fly out of his mouth like daggers without pause. Once finished, he looks at you with a disappointed gaze, shaking his head lightly, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking down at your shoes. It doesn’t matter if you disagree with him–– a sort of shame drills itself so deeply into your conscience that all you can think about is making things right again. “I didn’t think my actions through.”

A second passes. You wonder what he’s thinking.

“Hey, look at me.” Kuroo lifts your chin up with an index finger. Your wide eyes meet his narrow ones. Just as a pink beam glides over his face, his gaze softens, falls down to your lips. And then you feel his thumb on your chin, barely grazing the skin of your bottom lip. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. The revelry in the background fades to dull beats against your eardrums. Suddenly, you register that he smells of, as usual, blackcurrant and amber.

But now you also smell of blackcurrant and amber.

You’re wearing his clothes. You smell of him.

Kuroo’s eyes crawl back up to yours, wide like he’s just been caught in the middle of a crime. You blink expectantly, ignoring the furious way your heart pounds in your chest. Shallow breaths puff through your slightly parted mouth.

“I am.” It comes out barely a whisper. C’mon. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me––

You gently touch the hand he has on your chin. Kuroo jolts back like he’s been burned. “I’ll, uhm, I’ll be in the car,” he stutters, looking away from your face. He pushes through the sea of people, leaving you all alone on the dance floor, body doused in blue light, fingers touching the area his thumb had been as if preserving its print.

Kuroo hardly notices you slip into the passenger’s seat minutes later. He’s got his forearms hanging over the steering wheel and gaze fixed ahead into the darkness, mind probably running off to a place he wishes his body was, too.

As soon as you’ve buckled yourself in, Kuroo starts the car.

The entire drive home is silent.

Once Kuroo pulls into your courtyard and parks, he turns off the engine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and steps out of the car. Wordlessly, you follow his actions and meet him by the stairs to your door.

“Hi,” you say quietly. He doesn’t look at you.

“Hey.”

The two of you stand outside your front door in silence as you both consider what to say next. This can’t be the way it ends.

“I shouldn’t have… done that,” Kuroo says first.

“Done what?” You choose to play dumb. Call it selfish, but you want to hear him say it. Maybe then it’ll feel as real as it had been. Kuroo sighs and leans his shoulder against the stone wall, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s no way he can dance around what happened. Perhaps the past two months can be summed up as the development of a strong friendship with skilled doublespeak and metaphors and just enough artistic licence, but this can’t. And Kuroo knows that. He can’t feed you an alternative truth like he’s done so many times before. What’s more, he can’t lie to himself anymore. So maybe it’s better just to not speak at all.

Your eyes burn holes into the side of his face. Fine. You’ll concede first. “I was never nervous.”

Kuroo blinks, turns his head around to look at you. “What?”

“I was never nervous. I was playing it cool because I didn’t want to risk befriending you and getting attached.” I’m still playing it cool, you don’t say. And I’m already attached. “Guess I just came off as a bitch instead.” You laugh. “But can you blame me? You were this cute, older guy. Smart, too, since you were interning with my mom. You were my dream guy.”

An amused breath blows out of his nose. “Were?” he questions, grinning, only remembering the fragility of your platonic relationship a second later. “Um––”

“Are.” It slips out of your mouth without you realising. Fuck. Kuroo stills. It’s too late to take back your words now, so you might as well just keep going. “You still are my dream guy.”

Seconds pass and neither of you says anything. Sweat gathers in the palms of your hands. You start to feel your heartbeat through your neck. The buzz of the cicadas grows louder. Oppressive. Behind Kuroo, the sky is starting to turn pale blue and pink in the horizon. That means it’s almost sunrise. The night is almost over, and, hopefully, so is this awful conversation.

“And… you don’t feel the same.” Funnily, you feel like you’re lying. You’re telling Kuroo how he feels and you think you’re lying. Does that make sense? None of this night even feels real. God, you hope this has all just been a dream. Mustering a soft smile, you say, “That’s okay. Thank you for the party. And the adventure.” It was fun while it lasted. You feel the house key in your pocket and turn to unlock the door. “I hope this doesn’t change anything between us, Kuroo. Can we still be friends?” The words leave your mouth feeling like barbed wire. You know damn well you can’t still be friends.

And suddenly, you feel his calloused hands around your cheeks. Suddenly, his hot breath fans over your face.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs.

Your eyes close instantly. “Yes, please.”

And suddenly, his soft lips are on yours.

Kuroo breaks the kiss seconds later. “Fuck,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours, touching the tips of your noses together. “Y/N, I don’t want to be friends. Fuck.” A dry chuckle leaves his mouth. He pauses to collect his thoughts but decides that that can wait. Instead, he presses another kiss to your lips so fervently that he backs you up against the wall with no space between your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat like this, chest to chest. Kuroo’s hands travel down your waist and rest on your hips. His tongue runs across your tongue, your teeth, the insides of your mouth. You gently suck on it, drawing a satisfied moan from him. When the kiss ends, you see that his lips are red and cheeks are swollen. A warm feeling spreads through your chest. “I thought I could be happy just being friends with you but I can’t. I want you so bad it hurts. Not to mention, when I saw you in my hoodie?” His fingers pinch the material. “I thought God was testing me or some shit.”

“Sure didn’t feel like you wanted me that way,” you retort, still breathless.

“In my defence,” Kuroo says, thumbs tracing your cheekbones, “I was very scared.”

“Of what?”

It looks like he’s about to tell you, but he changes his mind and doesn’t answer. He grabs your hand and pulls you back to the car with a cheeky grin. “I’ll tell you only if you tell me where we can watch the sunrise.”

Kuroo holds your hand, stroking your thumb the entire drive there.

After a short hike, you plop down on the grassy hillside, supporting your body with outstretched arms in the back. Kuroo sits down beside you with one of his hands covering yours, fingers intertwined like a honeysuckle vine around a hazel tree. You tell him that you grew up running along this hill with your parents. It used to be your playground. Maybe, you think, it’s time to make new memories here.

“Beautiful,” Kuroo breathes, a wonderstruck look in his eyes. The sun’s just risen halfway above the pink and blue horizon, the saturated orange casting the entire city below gold. It’s not just the city, though. He’s also gold. He’s just as beautiful. You watch him with a soft smile on your lips, noting how his wide eyes and slack jaw return to normal as he stares off into the distance. After resting your head on his shoulder, you fix your eyes on the sunrise ahead. You wonder what he’s thinking so quietly about.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask once the sun has finished revealing itself.

Kuroo blinks, returning to reality, but continues to stare straight ahead. “I was just thinking about… soulmates.”

You lift your head off his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates now,” you tease.

“Hmm.” He turns to look at you, the sun turning his hazel eyes the colour of honey. That same wry smirk from Jack’s returns to his face.

“You wanna know why I was so scared?”

“Pray tell.”

“Because I’ve never felt this way towards anyone.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No,” Kuroo laughs, laying his head down in your lap, looking up into your eyes. “I’m serious. I used to purposely stay away from girls in high school. Same in college. Same all the way until you somehow wormed your way into my life. That’s why we wouldn’t have been friends.” You cock your head to the side.

“Why?” you ask, running your fingers through his hair.

Kuroo’s eyelids flutter shut. He inhales deeply before talking. “My parents are divorced. The years before the divorce were… very ugly.” 

(He spares you the details of the midnight arguments, the smashed plates, the holes in the walls. He spares you the details of how he only ever knew how to fall asleep with his head sandwiched between two pillows, how he hasn’t seen his sister in a decade, how he’ll curse and snap but never yell because he always feels like a child again around the noise. That’s for another time, if you’ll have any.) 

“I still remember all the fighting and yelling. For the longest time, that’s all I knew about marriage and relationships.”

“Did you think all relationships were like that? Fighting and yelling?” you ask.

“For a while, yeah. I’m still a little scared of that, to be honest. Ending up in a relationship where all you do is fight.” Kuroo sighs. “But that’s not the only thing. I thought I wouldn’t know how to love someone, growing up like that.” At that, your fingers pause in his hair.

“Wait,” you say, furrowing your brows. A wave of immense sadness (not for yourself, for him) washes over you. “You think you wouldn’t know how to love someone else?”

“Thought.” Kuroo cracks open his eyes and smiles up at you. “I’m in the process of changing my mind.”

[anon-rebel-writes]

Late Night Talks

Hello everyone! I hope you are having a wonderful day!

So this is a new story (yay!), and I wrote this for my girlfriend! She asked me not to tag her for privacy reasons, but I hope she loves this because this is actually based on a real event!

A quick background, we confessed through the phone and this story is heavily based on that. A lot of the feelings Luka feels are things that I actually felt! The dialogue is pretty similar too (obviously some things are cut out or edited to fit Luka and Mari lol)

My “just-a-friend” got me into MLB and we both love Lukanette, so I thought it’d be fitting to write her a story about Lukanette, based on us, for one of her gifts! Happy birthday, my love! I hope you (and everyone else reading this XD) enjoy it!

The story begins under the cut! <3 Ao3 Link

Soft light from his phone covered his face, forcing his eyes to squint in order to see clearly. His thumb unconsciously moved across the screen, opening up random apps before quickly closing them just to open them again.

The boat was fairly quiet. During the day, he could hear the different movements and various noises from his mother and sister, but this late at night merely left the sounds of waves from the Seine below him. The natural creaking of the boat usually left him relaxed and helped him fall asleep.

Although lately his nights had been occupied by other things, especially one girl.

Luka shifted in his bed, trying to engulf himself in more warmth from his blankets. Did his mattress always feel this stiff and uncomfortable? He never paid it much attention before, it never mattered before. Maybe it was just his mind trying to find something to think about.

He glanced at the time near the top of his screen and saw it was ten after midnight. Well at least it’s not too late yet, or maybe it wasn’t too early yet? She never texted him extremely late (or extremely early). Was it late? When did he care about time so much?

The only reason he thought about the time lately was because of her.

Luka shifted again, pulling up the blanket to cover the blush creeping up his cheeks. He continued to open apps just to close them again. He sighed and turned off the phone, letting the room dim and his eyes rest. Why did this feel so desperate? He used to see himself as a ‘go with the flow’ guy, but she had found a way into his heart and made him question his entire life.

When had he ever checked his phone this much? If she decided to text him tonight (as she had been doing for the past couple of nights), would immediately replying make him seem obsessed? He didn’t want to come off as overbearing. Didn't girls like when guys text fast? She hasn’t seemed to mind it so far. Then again, his only source of reference was his sister, and getting her to reply to him took years off his life.

His phone beeped and the screen lit up, showing a new text message. Luka quickly sat up and hurried to read the message.

‘SOS Can’t sleep again :( Think I might need a ~Luka~ to help (^-^)’

He covered his mouth with his palm, trying to hide the smile consuming his face. When did his nights become like this? Maybe it was desperate to wait for a text, but when the text came from Marinette, he couldn’t find a reason to be upset.

This girl seemed to bring him a whole new type of happiness, even if he was too nervous to text her first. He wanted to give her space and be comfortable around him, so waiting until midnight for a text never bothered him.

While seeing her throughout the day was always amazing, there was a different feeling that came with their late night talks. The fact that she needed to sleep and came to him for help gave him a warmth in his chest he never knew before. Although sometimes it made him feel selfish, seeing as she tended to talk to him when she was tired.

‘Luckily this Luka is always able to help :)’

And he really was always able to help, at least he tried to be. Luka helped everyone. Whether it was his family, friends, strangers, co-workers, he always lended a hand. But when it came to Marinette, he’d drop everything to run to her.

‘Yesss! Call me! Mama needs some Luka time!’

He tried to stifle a laugh and rolled his eyes at his phone. His body was hunched over the edge of the bed, watching his phone with intense eyes, as if the messages would disappear if he looked away.

In the mornings, he always found himself worried about that, as if the night before only existed in his mind. He’d hurry back to his phone to re-read the messages, making sure that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the girl who chased off his nightmares and reinvented his dreams, really spent her night with him. Even if it was through a screen, even if it was for an hour, the messages were there to remind him that for a moment, she was his and he was hers. He was always hers, if she wanted him to be.

Luka slowly leaned back onto his bed, trying to get into a comfortable position. He put one hand behind his head and took a deep breath. His calm personality wasn’t an act, Luka was definitely a level-headed person, but he was still human. And as a human, a pretty girl talking to him late at night gave him lots of nerves.

He quickly shook off any tension he felt and pressed the call button. The phone only rang once before the sweetest voice he’d ever heard took over. “Hi Luka! Sorry, I know it’s late and everything, but I couldn’t sleep and… Oh wait, you told me I shouldn’t apologize, sorry! Or- wait, I just said sorry. Wow, I’m sorry- Shoot! I said it again-”

She was rambling, rotating between apologizing to him and trying to explain why she called him. As much as he loved (was that too serious of a word?) her, he also knew that if he didn’t reel her in, she’d spiral out of control.

“Don’t worry, Mari, you’re fine. But I gotta be honest, I didn’t expect this. I mean, calling a boy so late at night… not once, but multiple times in a row? How scandalous of you, Mel’.”

He heard a scoff through the phone and a lot of rustling. “Oh Luka, you should know I am the most scandalous of girls. In case you haven’t heard, I call lots of boys and girls at night.” Her voice took on a fake sounding ‘tough guy’ accent. He rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle. “Wow boys andgirls? I didn’t know I was talking to a criminal.”

Honestly at this point he wouldn’t put it past her to be a criminal, she seemed to have a habit of stealing people’s hearts. He’d never tell her that though. One, she seemed to have a strange distaste for bad jokes, two, that meant he’d have to admit that he liked her (but the word ‘like’ didn’t seem strong enough).

“What?! I wouldn’t take it that far! I’m a total supporter of the law!”

Luka moved the phone from his ear to his chest. His face pinched tightly, trying to hold back any laughter that formed. His body tensed up from holding it in, as much as Juleka definitely deserved some payback for the loud laughing she tended to do so late at night, he really didn’t want to deal with a cranky sister. He quickly moved the phone back to his ear and took a deep breath.

“Yeah, that’s true. It’s kinda funny how different we are, not that I don’t support the law. It’s just when you have a mom like mine, it’s kinda hard to keep it in mind.” Marinette laughed through the phone and his chest felt like it was on fire.

Everything about her was so sweet, her laugh, her personality, she was amazing. Even when the mornings came and his head throbbed from the lack of sleep, he would never change these moments with her for anything in the world.

Sounds of fabric and movement came through the speaker along with a small hum of agreement. “Yeah I am pretty amazing at following the law. It’s kinda like a job at this point… Not that I have a job with the law! I don’t do that. That would be weird. Uh- anyways! Your job! Wait, that's not exciting. Oh man I’m so nervous tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Melody, it’s fine. My job isn’t very exciting, but I’m sure your day was, right? Mind telling me about it? You know I love listening to you.”

A gasp came through the other end of the phone and then a very thorough retelling of the events from the day. He slowly closed his eyes and imagined everything she told him. She left the bakery this morning to hang out with Alya, she probably wore that new beret she made, along with some cute, pink shoes to match.

He imagined her sitting under a tree at the park to draw, it was sunny and hot today, so she probably took her jacket off to get comfortable. She told him how she went out to get orange juice with Kagami, he could practically hear her smile through the phone as she told him about it.

Everything with Marinette was simple, by no means easy, but simple. He knew her well enough to understand how she felt, and she was the same way with him. They just got each other. She didn’t need to tell him the details because she knew he would already know. When he tried to explain a decision he made in a new song, she didn’t have to know what he was saying to understand him. Luka found it easy to just ignore the details, because Marinette was talented enough to fill them in herself.

Luka stayed quiet as he processed her words, filling in the details himself. He loved spending his nights like this, he didn’t mind messing with his sleeping schedule (or lack thereof). He loved to replay every moment of sincerity and kindness she showed throughout her day. He loved to hear about new projects she worked on, because her talent went beyond anything he’d ever seen.

She was miraculous.

“-But yeah, I guess that was my day! Not super exciting, but I think it was okay? I hope it was, at least.” Exciting? That was just one of the many adjectives he could use to describe her. Talented, exciting, clumsy, but so intelligent. Even on her dull days, he got excited just hearing her about random thoughts she had throughout the day. “Marinette… you’re extraordinary, honestly. Your day sounds wonderful. You’re wonderful. I don't know- You make me feel wonderful.”

Was he oversharing? Probably. He was definitely bad with words, but he wasn’t lying. His hands fisted his shirt as he waited for a response. The other end of the phone call went strangely silent. He could faintly hear the hum of the phone and the waves of the water outside his window. Why did the phone get quiet?

The last thing he’d ever want to do was make her uncomfortable, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. What if he told her too much? A soft squeal pulled him out of his thoughts and he focused back on the phone. “Um-! That’s...really sweet, Luka! You’re wonderful too… Or- Extraordinary I mean! You make me feel extraordinary, all the time. So- I don’t know, thank you?” His chest tightened. How much longer could he keep up with this act?

Pretending to be ‘just a friend’ might be easier for some people, but it was torture for him. Did she have these late night talks with other people? Did she ever hold anyone else’s hands when hers feels cold? Did she ever kiss them on the cheek to say goodbye? Luka was never one to push his luck, despite protests from his sister and mom, but nights like tonight made it hard.

“Don’t thank me, it’s just the truth, Mari. I should be thanking you, for making my nights a lot better, y’know?”

It was the truth. But there was so much more he could say. All of her quirks and amazing qualities always left his head feeling dizzy. He could write symphonies merely based on the person she was, let alone his feelings for her.

Yet he always kept those melodies to himself, even if he wanted to share them with the world, or share them with her. Nights like these make him feel like he could take on anything life throws at him. For Marinette, he probably could.

Another squeal came through the phone and a loud thud. He quickly sat up in a panic and pressed the phone even closer to his ear. “Marinette? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” Loud thumping came through the receiver and more panicked sounds.

“S-sorry! That was just- I just- Ugh… I dropped my phone, sorry. You just- you should know that… This is gonna sound lame, but you make my nights better too… Heck, I even listen to your cover songs throughout the day, so I guess you make my days better too? Wait, that sounds weird, sorry! I don’t mean to say it in a weird way...”

Luka’s eyes widened and his heart felt as if it was trying to beat out of his chest. His hand unconsciously moved to his chest and grabbed tightly onto his shirt. The breath leaving him was shaky and weak. It felt like the world stopped spinning for a moment.

All at once, the feelings he tried to hide came boiling over and any sensible thought that told him to conceal his affections raced out of his mind. Before he could stop himself, Luka’s mouth moved on its own.

“Can we facetime? Or anything similar to that, please?”

Without getting an answer, his phone started ringing. He turned the phone to his face and saw himself staring back. As soon as Luka answered the call his eyes wandered across his screen, taking in Marinette’s face.

Her hair was still in pigtails, but different strands stuck out in an adorable way. The camera showed her snuggled into her bed as she laid on her side, with her pink comforter pulled over her lower face, covering her cheeks and nose. A large cat pillow rested just behind her head, unnervingly staring at him. Because most of her face was hidden, Luka noticed her eyes, and suddenly he felt very self aware of his position.

Quickly laying back down on his bed, Luka awkwardly raised one arm to lay behind his head, trying to feign an relaxed appearance. He tried to give her the closest thing to an easygoing smile as he could manage at the moment, which definitely felt a little forced seeing as how he was now (sort of) face to face with Marinette. Trying to hide any tension he was feeling, he cleared his throat, inwardly hoping she couldn’t read how nervous he was.

“Uh- Hey, Mar- Melody. Love the cat pillow. Totally don’t feel like it’s about to jump into your phone and attack me.”

She raised a hand to her mouth, attempting to cover her laughter. Her eyes scrunched, smile widened, and Luka’s heart soared. Marinette managed to roll onto her back letting the beautiful sound ring throughout the room. The blanket dropped and uncovered the entirety of her face.

After a moment of joy, she tried to quickly recollect herself. She turned her head back to the phone and stuck out her tongue. “Silly. Just so you know I’m banning you from making me laugh this late again. You’re gonna make my stomach hurt!”

Luka started laughing too, loosely covering his mouth, not caring about waking anyone up anymore. “That’s gonna be a problem, you should know that I’m kinda hilarious, so you should fully expect me to break that rule. Very quickly.”

They both joined in quiet giggling before Marinette covered her mouth with her hand again and gasped. “I just told you that you’re banned from making me laugh!”

“Hey, I warned you! You can’t be mad when I literally just warned you!”

The two teens burst into laughter once more. Luka calmed down quicker than Marinette did, so he saw her laughing face a second time. She was beautiful. Every time he saw her, he swore she wasn’t real. No real person could be as stunning as she was.

Whenever she worked on a new project and her hair flopped over her face, she was gorgeous. The times when she helps their friends out, her eyes are always so gentle, she’s divine. Even when she’s stressed out, the moments when she feels at her lowest, Luka can’t help but notice how angelic she looks.

She’s breathtaking without even trying.

Once Marinette collected herself, her eyes turned soft and precious as she looked back at the phone. Even through a screen, her stare set his soul on fire. His mind went blank for a second before he lost all sense of reason.

“Did you really mean it when you said I make your days and nights better?”

Her eyes widened slightly at his question, and he finally realized what just came out of his mouth. ‘Great job, Couffaine. You just made it weird!’Luka shook his head and moved the camera slightly away from his face, moving his gaze from the phone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up again-”

“I mean it.”

His eyes shot back to her and saw how she snuggled back into her bed again. Her eyes were looking away, but the redness in her face showed him exactly where her mind was. “I meant what I said… Did- Well, did you mean it too? When you said I made your nights better?”

There it was again. The shaky breath, the longing look in his eyes, the fuzziness in his chest. With a simple answer, she turned him into putty and without even realizing it.

Luka moved his arm to rest on his eyes, attempting to hide any sign that would show how he felt, just in case she didn’t mean her words the way he wanted her to mean them. He’d never blame her for not being too clear, even if it hurt him. Any affection, whether friendly or romantic, should’ve been fine with him.

“This is gonna sound bad, but my phone is full of screenshots from our FaceTime calls.” Luka lifted his arm up slightly to gauge a reaction from her. But her eyes were glued on him, he couldn’t pick up on a clear response, so he covered his eyes again and continued.

“I… this is so creepy- sometimes I look at pictures of you and… it makes my day better too? That sounds so weird. It sounded a lot cuter in my head-” A loud cackle interrupted him and his arm shot away from his eyes. He saw Marinette digging herself even deeper into her massive blanket (and creepy cat pillow), trying to hide her laughter.

She must’ve noticed his silence because her eyes popped out of the blanket to look back at her screen. “Sorry, that’s just… that’s so cute! You take screenshots from our facetime calls?”

Her lopsided smile made his cheeks burn. He tried to gain back his level-headedness by rolling his eyes at her. He brought the phone closer to stick his tongue out at her. “I wouldn’t call me ‘cute’ if you don’t want me to call you ‘adorable’ for listening to those covers.”

Marinette stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation and hid her face back into the blanket. He took a quick, deep breath, silently thanking himself for being able to play his awkwardness off.

“I can’t believe I actually admitted that to you- That’s cold-blooded, Luka! Teasing a girl’s love is mean!”

They both paused for a second, taking in her words. The cabin suddenly felt a lot smaller than it was. His blood felt boiling hot yet icy cold all at once. His face slacked and yet tensed in different places. Looking at her and seeing her eyes expand let him know she was probably feeling the same way.

“Love?”

It sounded so easy. When she said it, it felt right. Full of affection without being overbearing. But then Marinette’s gaze moved off screen. She sunk into herself, yet not playfully like before. The energy of the call changed into something else, something new. “I… shouldn’t say anymore. I’m… sorry, Luka. I’m so sorry; I feel so selfish. I call you so late just to ruin your night by making things weird, and I’m so sorry.”

He watched as she shifted in her bed; he saw the edge of her thumb on the screen, hovering over it, as if she was about to end the call. “That’s not-! Marinette, that’s not true. If you’re selfish… If you’re selfish, then I must be the most greedy guy in the world.”

Marinette swiftly stared at the screen, her mouth opened as if she was going to rebuttal his statement. Before she could, he spoke first.

“I’ve been staying up every night, hoping and begging that you’d text me, or call me, or give me any attention at all. And I do it, knowing that you message me when you’re tired and need to rest. I know that spending time with me only takes away time you need to sleep. So yes, I’m selfish, and I’m greedy,”

Luka slowly sat up as he stared into the screen, clutching it as if it was the most important thing in the world, and at this moment, it was. Marinette moved the blanket off her face slightly and he saw her face flush with color. His voice felt raw as his throat tightened and his face burned. He couldn’t even register the tear that raced down his cheek. When did he get so emotional?

“But Melody, Mari, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I want your attention so bad. I want your affection and anything else you give me. I’ve been trying so hard to bite my tongue around you, to pretend like I think of you as my friend. But I love…”

He shut his mouth fast. What was he doing? He was destroying everything for these feelings. Why would she like him? She gives everyone affection. Marinette loved everyone, it was just who she was. What was he doing? He looked around his room and realized the situation he put himself in. He quickly put his phone on the bed next to him and pulled his knees to his chest.

Did he ruin their relationship? Would she stop having these late night talks with him? Would she still hold his hands when hers felt cold? Would she ever kiss his cheek to say goodbye again? What was he doing?

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. It all happened so fast. He reached for his phone to apologize and to hopefully scavenge whatever was left of their friendship.

“I love you too, Luka.”

His hand stopped just above his phone and he waited. He listened to the small buzzing sound from his phone, the waves moving against the boat, gentle breathing coming from Marinette.

“I love you… and I wanna be selfish. I wanna be greedy and I wanna be with you.”

Luka found the courage to lift the phone to his face and stare back at her. Marinette now sat up, her face was bright red with tear stains down her cheeks. Her eyes were slightly puffy and he was sure his were too. The only light on her face was her phone and even with everything, she looked beautiful.

“I wanna be with you too, Marinette. Always, for as long as you’ll have me. Wake me up at three A.M. everynight for the rest of my life, I don’t care. I just wanna be with you too. I love you.”

It felt so right. It wasn’t too much when he said it. He meant it to be heavy and weighted. But it didn’t feel forced or extreme. It was just right. They stared at each other for a moment more. His eyes raced across every centimeter of the screen, taking in every aspect of her, her eyes doing the same. Smiles spread across her face as they both chuckled, their laughter laced with happy tears.

Luka wiped his eyes, trying to calm himself down (despite his teenage hormones telling him that he should continue to cry and sob from the utter euphoria he was feeling). Marinette tugged at her pigtails with one hand, seeking to find comfort.

“This wasn’t the way I thought we’d confess, y’know. I always thought you’d write me a song, or I’d make you a new jacket. Some big gesture instead of us sobbing,” she chuckled.

He stopped wiping his eyes to laugh again. His smile grew, even as he tasted his tears. “Yeah, sorry about that. I promise I have plenty of songs for you, and about you and everything. I can grab my guitar if you want, but you might hear Juleka complaining in the background.”

They shared one final laugh before the exhaustion of crying kicked in and they both laid back down. Marinette wrapped herself in blankets one final time, holding the dubious cat pillow tight against her. Luka found himself in a similar position, he laid on his side, his face squished against his pillow and the blanket pulled under his chin.

They stared at each other, making small conversation about their feelings. Luka could hardly remember all that happened after that, he felt such relief and happiness from everything that the rest of the night felt fuzzy.

He glanced at the time at the top of his screen and noticed it was now closer to three-thirty. Luka took a deep breath before sighing. He saw Marinette’s eyes getting smaller and smaller with each second.

He knew that they should hang up soon, but he really wanted to be selfish and keep her on the phone. “Luka…”

Marinette slowly opened an eye to look back at him. Their smiles grew once again. “Are you gonna take another screenshot of me?” Her smile turned sly and he rolled his eyes.

“That’s cold-blooded, Mel’. Teasing a guy’s love is mean,” he stuck out his tongue, just for good measure. But then he sneakily took one screenshot, to remind himself that tonight was real and not just a dream. Tonight, Marinette was his and he was hers, and hopefully it’ll stay like that for a long time.

Her eyes drifted back closed, but her smile never left. “...Love you… Luka….”

Warmth engulfed his chest, leaving him feeling light and airy. The mattress underneath him felt soft and perfect. The dryness on his cheeks from earlier tears didn’t bother him at all. He was content and full of love.

While the confession was unexpected, he wouldn’t change it for the world. As much as he loved her clothing and as many songs as he had for her, he knew nothing would’ve compared to tonight. As he looked back at her sleeping face, he had a feeling she felt the same.

“I love you too, Marinette.”

[farfromsugafanfic]

Sutures - Chapter Four: Urge

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): mentions of hickeys, Sumi’s ex is a dick, making out, heavy petting, smut lead up, smut themes

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Notes: This was originally written and completed on Wattpad between 2018 and the beginning of 2020. I’ll be slowly posting the chapters here. I may make a tag list depending on if enough people want to follow along with updates. Leave me some feedback if you would like added to a tag list.

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You hugged Kitty to your chest and made your way to the kitchen. You heard the rustling of pots and pans and Jimin's laughter. Even though you'd only known Jimin for under two days, his laughter quickly become one of your favorite sounds, something that never made you smile. However, most of the time you weren't horrendously hungover. 

"Morning," you said, trying to muster a small smile, even though your head was pounding. 

Three of the seven boys who lived in the dorm turned to look at you. Yoongi was already sat at the table, scrolling through his phone, a bowl of fruit in front of him. Hoseok was in the kitchen and Jimin sat on the opposite end of the table from Yoongi, his legs swinging freely. You smiled at how close the boys were and how comfortable they were with each other. It made you feel even worse for intruding in on the bond. 

"Good morning," the boys said, nearly in unison. 

"Jimin," you said. "Did you put Kitty in the box to come here?"

Jimin shook his head, glancing down to the stuffed cat you held in your arms. 

"No, I put him in the donation pile as you wanted." 

"Huh," you said, holding Kitty out in front of you and smiling at her fondly. "Well, I'm glad she found her way here anyway." 

Jimin smiled at you, his eyes some mixture of happiness for you and worry. 

"Did we get internet back?"

The boys exchanged glances and nodded. 

You looked over to Yoongi, who was now looking up from his phone. His dark eyes were boring straight into you, and you suspected he already knew what you were going to ask. 

"Did you find out who got the shoes?"

The room fell silent, except for the tap which Hoseok accidentally left on as he had looked up at you. You didn't know who it could possibly be that would elicit such a response, but Yoongi's face softened as he stood. 

"Park Minki."

You blinked in disbelief, wondering if the hangover had somehow messed with your hearing. Yoongi's eyes were softer, the softest they had been in the seventy two hours you'd known him.

"My ex?" you choked out. 

Yoongi nodded.

---

You took a deep breath as you stood in front of the full length mirror and strategically placed the scarf around your neck. The bruises weren't as prominent as the day before, but you feared Minki would still notice them. The rest of your outfit was quite simple, a pair of jeans and a nice top. You wore your hair down, hoping it too would help hide Yoongi's marks on your neck. 

When you'd broken up with Minki, you'd thought you'd never have to see the boy again. While you still loved him, you knew seeing him again would hurt you, but you wanted to handle this yourself. For whatever reason bought the shoes, you knew it couldn't be settled with money. He wanted to see you again, wanted you to see him again. 

While you normally would just forget the shoes, Yoongi's reputation was on the line. And yours for that matter. You may not be an idol, but the fact you were connected to one, could be enough to destroy you.

"Do you really want to look that good for your ex?" Yoongi said, entering your bedroom with a soft knock on your open door. He was dressed wearing just a simple sweatshirt and jeans, a snapback covering his dyed hair and a mask pulled down under his chin. 

"What? Jealous?" you smirked, giving up on arranging the scarf and turning to face him. 

"No," he said. "I just thought you didn't care what he thought anymore." He walked closer to you, the faint smell of his cologne tickling your nose. His fingers reached up and moved the scarf so it that it covered the half of a hickey that was still partially visible. "Obviously, you do."

He stepped away from you the scent of him still lingering in his place. You were almost disappointed when he stepped away, wishing you could fall asleep in his scent.

"I'm sorry you have to come," you said. "And miss out on work."

"I can work when we get back," he said. "Besides, it would be a whole lot worse for both of us if I didn't come." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a mask. "Wear this, if we run into any paparazzi it will be harder for them to identify you."

You nodded, looping the mask around your ears and pulling it up over your mouth. Yoongi pulled his up and nodded to you, asking if you were ready. 

You nodded in affirmation, but you felt the butterflies in your stomach. You didn't think you would ever be ready.

---

You entered the cafe first. You spotted Minki almost immediately, he was seated at a table near the middle, you could see the shoes placed on the table. You already felt a twinge of embarrassment, knowing he'd displayed them so publicly.

You pulled down the mask and sat down across from him. His mouth widened into a smirk when you sat down, something you used to love about him, but now it just felt like he was mocking you.

"You look nice," he said.

"Thanks," you said, trying not to meet his gaze.

You noticed Yoongi walk past you and sit at a table behind Minki's view, but facing you. You met his eyes momentarily but didn't want Minki to see your wandering gaze. Minki had a temper occasionally, and while he had never hurt you, you feared he wouldn't hesitate to hurt Yoongi. And even though you and Yoongi weren't exactly friends, you still didn't want him to get hurt because of you.     

"So, why'd you leave the shoes at the bar?" Minki asked. 

"Does that really matter, Minki? They're mine, I just want them back."

"You fucked him? Didn't you?" 

You clenched your fists and looked at the black pumps sitting on the table. You sighed and tried to collect your thoughts. 

"How'd you know they were mine?"

"You don't think I wouldn't recognize the shoes I bought you for your birthday last year?" The smirk was on his face again, like a mosquito that you wanted to kill, but that was just out of your reach. "I picked them out especially for you, remember?"

You did remember. How he told you that he went to multiple shoes, trying to find the perfect shoes. Settling on a pair of black pumps. "Simple, like you," he'd said when he gave them to you. 

"Now that we've broken up, they're mine now? Since I paid for them?"

You wanted to bang your fists down on the table and scream at him until he was as scared of you as you were of him. You wanted to swat the smirk from his face. You wanted to point out all the things you'd bought him. All the baseball game tickets. The T-shirt he wore. Half the down payment on his car. 

"I don't care," you said. "Do whatever you want with them. I just want to leave."

Minki softened then. He'd seen you break down multiple times before, he knew the signs. The way you hid your face. The way you tried to curl yourself into a ball, no matter where you were.

"He's here, isn't here?" your ex asked. "You're not mine to protect anymore." His hand cupped the fabric of your knee. You felt shivers run down your spine as tears pricked at your eyes.

You noticed his eyes wandering down to your neck and where the scarf had moved aside. There was no sense in trying to deny what the scarf revealed.

"Huh," he said. "You never let me do that." 

"I never was yours to protect," you said, your eyes red and tear stained, trying to ignore his last comment. You reached down and moved his hand from your knee. You felt his palm beneath your fingertips and the sensation ran through your body. You felt his hands on you again, your body grew warm, but not in the pleasant way. You needed to get out. Without any more thought, you grabbed your things and ran from the cafe.

---

Yoongi's body stiffened as he watched Minki's hand grab your knee. He wanted to push Minki away from you, shield you from ever having to feel the other boy's touch again. He saw the way your cheek's flushed, although not in the cute way. He saw as you tried to shift away, he could feel your discomfort. 

Your scarf had slipped slightly, revealing part of one of the bruises. Yoongi knew the other boy saw based on the way he shifted forward.

"Huh, you never let me do that," the other boy said. 

Yoongi's jaw stiffened. Part of him wanted to rip him apart for bringing attention to something that you obviously hadn't wanted Minki to see, but there was a small buzzing inside of him. One night and you allowed him to do something you'd never allowed your previous boyfriend to do for years. He repressed the pride as you tearfully ran out the door. 

Yoongi waited a moment to get up and follow you, not wanting to draw too much attention. He made eye contact with Minki as he walked past, pulling down his mask momentarily, but pulling it back up as he walked through the door of the cafe. 

---

You curled yourself into the car seat, pulling your legs into your stomach and hiding your face against the car door. You put on your seatbelt, knowing Yoongi would follow you out. 

Yoongi opened the car door a minute or so later, greeting the driver as he did so and telling him to take both of you back to the dorm. He pulled down his mask and put on his seatbelt. 

"Why do you let him talk to you like that?" Yoongi asked. 

You scoffed, trying to hide your tears. The last thing you wanted was Yoongi to see your tears, you felt like if you allowed yourself to cry in front of him, it would somehow strengthen the bond. Yoongi was so strong and allowing him to see your weakness terrified you.

"He's my ex for a reason, okay?" 

"Well, we still need to get the shoes back somehow. You sure money won't work with him?"

"He just wants to humiliate me," you said, choking slightly on the words. "Do we really need to get them back? I mean, they're just shoes. How much harm could really be done?"

Yoongi's eyes widened and his form stiffened. 

"You really don't realize, do you?" He looked out the window in slight disbelief before turning back to you. "I guess, this explains how you didn't recognize me."

"Yoongi..."

"Even just the rumors of what happened between us could destroy both of us," he said. "My fans need someone they can trust and look up to. Most of them don't even know I'm not with Jihee anymore. They know about the soulmate thing, but we only used that to find you. We're going to deny it later, anyway." 

"You didn't have to sleep with me then," you said. "If you would've just pushed me off your lap, none of this would've happened."

"If you wouldn't have fallen in my lap, none of this would've happened." 

You sighed, silence ensuing. The road noise the only sound. Even the driver was silent from behind the partition. 

"Sumi..." Yoongi said, his hand suddenly coming to rest just above your knee. His fingertips digging into the fabric of your jeans. His touch was warm, but instead of overheating as you did with Minki's touch, your temperature matched his. 

"What?" you asked, but your question was soon answered as you felt heat rise in your stomach. Suddenly, Yoongi appeared less like the image obsessed jerk of a few minutes ago and looked more like the man you met at the bar three days ago. 

You unhooked your seatbelt and straddled Yoongi's lap, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks as his ran up to play with your hair. Your lips connected and nearly immediately his tongue slipped between yours. 

Yoongi's hat--which you hadn't paid much attention to before--suddenly was in your way. You ripped it off, exposing his messy hair. It was obvious he hadn't styled it before putting on the snapback, but you liked it better that way, it allowed your fingers to tangle in his hair. 

"The windows?" you asked, falling back onto the seat as Yoongi unhooked his seatbelt and hovered over you.

"They're tinted," he said, grabbing hold of your scarf and pulled it over your head. It landed somewhere on the floor of the car, out of sight. "Don't worry, no one will see." 

He leaned down and latched onto your lips once again. His hands wandering under the hem of your shirt, causing it to ride up slightly. You splayed your fingers against his firm chest, causing him to stop momentarily. 

"What?" he asked. 

"I think...I think this is what the doctor was talking about..." you said. "I think we need to stop." 

Despite your words, your hands slipped underneath his sweatshirt, feeling the warm skin beneath. You wanted to feel that skin against you, but before you could pull it over his head, he surprised you, by pulling up your shirt, exposing your stomach. 

"I'll do it lower this time," he said, his voice raspy and lower than normal. "So you don't have to worry about hiding them." His lips latched onto the skin of your stomach, causing you to release a small moan as you ran your fingers from his hairline and down to the nape of his neck. 

"Yoongi..."

"Why'd you have to wear that perfume for him? It drives me crazy." 

He curved his two index fingers into the belt loop of your jeans and tugged slightly, not to pull them down, but rather to tease you. 

"You're for my eyes only."

"Yoongi," you said. "We need to stop." 

Yoongi pulled away, a sheepish look crossing his face. He pulled down your shirt and sat back in the seat. 

You, too, sat back up, trying to catch your breath. Your heart was racing, partially from the thoughts of the feel of his lips, but you were scared. You felt so out of control, something had taken you over entirely. It wasn't a secret that you were attracted to Yoongi, you did willingly sleep with him, but the urges pulled you together, even when you least wanted it. 

"That was...that was...weird..." 

Yoongi nodded in agreement, reaching down and retrieving your scarf. You did the same with his hat and you exchanged the items. 

You watched out the window as the car pulled into the driveway of the dorm. You glanced back over at Yoongi, noticing a bit of your lipstick managed to cling to his bottom lip. You chuckled slightly before reaching over and using your thumb to wipe it from his lip. 

He watched you, not making any movement to stop you, but your gaze shifted downward, not able to meet his eyes. 

"Lipstick," you said. 

The driver opened the door and the two of you walked back into the dorm.

---

Jihee (9:02 am): Good morning handsome :)

Jihee (11:15 am): I heard about the shoe business. You always use to complain about having to take off mine.

Jihee (11:17 am): You should tell her to be more careful though. :)

Jihee (1:20 pm): Babe...please just respond to me...

Jihee (1:21 pm): You're making me seem desperate.

Jihee (4:45 pm): Her picture's out there now, you know? Some guy saying she cheated with you.

Jihee (5:00 pm): She doesn't look like the type to cheat.

Jihee (6:34 pm): The more I think about it...the less she seems like your type. Especially for a rebound.

Jihee (7:00 pm): You could do much better if you wanted to Oppa. She's kind of pretty and all, but don't you think she's a little simple?

Yoongi (7:02 pm): Whatever this is, is between us. Leave her out of it. 

[loveactionsspeaklouder]

we belong together - kylian mbappé and julian draxler fanfic

12| Never Forget You

a/n: slightly smutty

april 2024| paris

Molly woke up to the bright sun shining through her bedroom window. It had been two weeks since she had seen either of the boys, both were away on international duty with their teams. She didn't know when they were due back, but she hoped it was today and specifically Julian. She got butterflies every time she thought about the German; she loved how wide his smile would go when he saw her or how beautiful his brown eyes sparkled when he spoke about football.

She stared at her phone and read the several text messages she had received today; it would have been a lot, after all, it was her twenty-eighth birthday today. She concentrated on the messages Kylian had sent her.

08:00am – Happy birthday mon amour. I love you.

08:30am – I miss you.

10:00am – Can I see you soon? Please.

11:30am – I'll be back in Paris today, I hope you have a wonderful day Moll, you deserve it.

Molly sighed and sent a quick reply. She didn't know why, but she found it hard to stay away from the Frenchman. She pushed the thoughts out of her head and proceeded to get ready for the day; she had received a message from Julian stating he was on his way to pick her up. She dressed herself in black leggings and a cropped black jumper, it might have been sunny outside, but there was still a cold breeze.

Molly opened the door to Julian, delighted to see his face. "I've missed you," he whispered. He pulled her into a hug, wrapping one arm around her waist and using the other to stroke her hair. He cupped her cheek and pecked her lips. "You look beautiful, are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"You'll see," he smiled, intertwining their hands. He first collected a bag from his car, before shutting the trunk and grabbing her hand again. They strolled together around the streets of Paris, until they stopped at a random park. But it wasn't random. Molly instantly recognised their location; she turned to face Julian, who was staring back at her with a beaming smile. He pulled her closer and kissed her cheek, whispering in her ear. "Happy birthday Molly."

"How did you know where to find it?" she questioned. She remembered that day he was extremely lost, so finding the exact same park was not possible. Or was it? She eyed the German, who blushed and shrugged his shoulders. "Julian Draxler you little liar!" she teasingly poked his cheek. He chuckled, pulling out a blanket and placing it on the floor, patting the space next to him. She sat down and snuggled closer to him, he wrapped a protective arm around her waist. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I wanted to do something for your birthday that you'll remember," Julian softly spoke. "Do you remember the time we came here?" she rolled her eyes and nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. "That day will forever be etched on my mind."

"Why? Because you pretended to be lost and dragged me around nearly every street in Paris."

"No," he chuckled at her sudden burst of anger. He moved her body between his legs and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder. "It's the first time I realised I had fallen in love with you."

....

april 2024| paris

"What are we doing here Kylian?"

"We are baby shopping."

"Then why are we in this expensive boutique!" Molly loudly whispered. Kylian wasn't lying; he had mentioned to Rosalie that he wanted to start buying things for their unborn child, she agreed and allowed him to invite Molly. What she didn't realise was the meaning for the random shopping trip he suddenly wanted to participate in. "I don't see any baby stuff in here."

He smirked and softly brushed his fingers against the brunette's hand. "Because," he started. He noticed her looking at a dress and picked it up, ignoring her protests. "I am buying you a dress for your birthday party," he beamed. He placed a finger over her mouth to stop her from replying. "No arguments, now pick some out."

Molly went around and picked a few different outfits up, Kylian sat on the couch and watched her stroll into the fitting rooms. She bit her lip and gazed into the mirror, trying to stop the smile forming on her lips. "You shouldn't be here," she breathed, watching as Kylian's white trainers appeared at the bottom of the stall.

"I'd like to see what I'm buying," he quietly spoke. "Open the door and let me in, otherwise I'll do it myself."

Molly opened the door and rolled her eyes. Kylian's jaw nearly fell from his mouth, as he gawked at the matching lingerie she was wearing that barely covered her body. He gulped and swiftly pushed her inside, closing the door shut. "Why are you teasing me?" he murmured. He kissed her bare shoulder and ran his fingers down her stomach. "You are so beautiful. When I'm not with you, I'm always thinking about you," he whispered. He brushed his lips against her ear, slowly slipping his fingers beneath her panties. She fluttered her eyes closed and breathed in.

No matter how hard she tried, Molly knew she couldn't resist Kylian. If he wanted her, he was bound to find a way to have her and that included during a shopping trip his fiancé knew they were on. "I thought you wanted to see the dresses?"

"Mon amour," he smirked. He began to brush his fingers against the wet folds between her thighs, listening to her whisper quiet moans. "We already know you look great in everything."

Molly could only respond with a yelp, as she felt Kylian lift her body in his arms and press her against the wall. "Kylian," she moaned as he quickly slid inside of her. He hastily connected their lips, trying to muffle the moans as he continued thrusting inside of her at a rapid pace. She rolled her eyes back as she reached her climax, resting her forehead on his shoulder.

Kylian pulled out of Molly and released himself onto her bare thigh. He helped clean her up and kissed her lips. "Don't worry about the dresses, we'll buy them all," he smiled. He watched as she covered her body back up, still looking breathtakingly beautiful. She rolled her eyes and faced the mirror. "Let's go."

"Wow Kylian," Molly sneered. "I can't wait till you tell Rosalie what we found today," she loudly chuckled. She fixed her hair in the mirror and turned to face the Frenchman. "Never mind something for the baby, which we actually were supposed to be looking for. But a great place to fuck your ex-girlfriend, I'm sure she'll be thrilled."

"She'll understand," he shrugged. She shot him a questioning look, raising her eyebrow at him. He softly grazed a finger over her cheek and pecked her lips. "She deserves it anyway, she fucked Adam."

"Excuse me?" Molly whisper shouted. People were bound to have heard them by now, let's hope nobody interesting actually heard us. They didn't need their actions being posted over the front cover of every magazine in France. "I thought they only kissed? When did this happen?"

Kylian smirked at the confused look on her face. "After you told him about your affair with Julian," he winked. "He was drunk in a bar and called Rose, she picked him up and they talked at his hotel. And then they fucked. So, what we just did, is allowed."

"Not it isn't Kylian," Molly spat. She ran a hand through her hair and picked up her bag, exiting the changing room. Kylian followed her and paid for the dresses, winking at the brunette as he passed her the bags. They left the shop and walked back to the car, driving to his home. She parked the car up and turned off the engine, she turned her head to face the footballer. "Remember you started it. This isn't healthy for your relationship."

"Don't blame all this on me missy," he mocked. He rolled his eyes and stepped out of the car, closing the door and walking around to Molly's door. She rolled the window down, Kylian moved his head closer to hers. "You say this is bad, but you can't stop fucking me either," he leaned his lips to her ear and kissed the skin, before quietly whispering to her. "I can't wait to see you in that dress, I'm sure I won't be able to keep my hands of you."

....

april 2024| paris

Julian paced around Molly's living room, his body was filled with rage. "I thought you stopped this," he spat. It was two days after Molly and Freddie's joint birthday party; the party in which she had spent all night secretly flirting with Kylian. Although, it didn't go unnoticed by the German, who watched with flared nostrils. "Do I mean fucking nothing to you?"

Molly flinched at his words, rubbing her hands over her face and groaning in frustration. "I don't know what to say," she muttered. A single tear fell down her cheek; Julian watched her and softened up, he knew he couldn't stay angry at her, she was his weakness and Kylian was hers. "I don't know why I do it. Believe me Julian, I am completely in love with you but something always draws me back to him."

"Please don't," he warned. Despite the love he felt for her, his anger surpassed it. "I don't know how much longer I can do this Moll," he sighed. "After everything he has done to you, you still pick him. Remember, he picked Rosalie over you. When he had a choice, he picked her. He didn't fight for you. He didn't run after you. He didn't contact you. He picked her, yet you still go back to him."

"You think I don't fucking know that!" Molly raised her voice and stood up. "I had to deal with my father dying and my boyfriend leaving me, I don't need you to keep reminding me of that."

The venom in her voice was evident, her sudden outburst had rendered Julian silent. "You keep saying you are there to help me, but what have you actually done bar fuck me?" she continued. "It doesn't matter anyway, because you can't fix me, nobody can."

He managed to calm himself down, ignoring the pure hatred of her words. He stood up and walked towards her, moving her to the couch and taking her hands in his. He rested his forehead on hers and listened to her breathing slow down, their lips drifting closer together. He placed a hand on the small of her back, instantly calming her down. His lips were so close to hers, they brushed against them when he spoke. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have done more. I don't want to control you, but I hate seeing you like this," he wiped a tear from her cheek, using his other hand to tilt her chin up. "You are the love of my life and I would do anything for you, if that means leaving you alone so you can get better then that's fine."

"I don't want you to leave me alone," Molly whimpered. She pressed her lips to Julian's, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled her onto his lap. She gazed into his glossy eyes and kissed his jaw. "I shouldn't have said those things. You have helped me Julian, in more ways than you can imagine," she traced her fingers through his hair. "I lost myself, but you found me. You saved me from the person I was becoming. But I'm still recovering and that's why I need to be on my own for a bit. I'm continuing to hurt the people I love and I need to fix that. But I want you to know that my love for you won't change; when I'm better, if you'll have me, I'm all yours."

Julian didn't bother responding straight away. He pressed his lips to Molly's and moved her beneath him, continuing to kiss the skin on her shoulder. She moaned and pulled him closer to her. He rested his forehead on hers and tenderly stroked her cheek. He knew this wasn't goodbye, but it still felt like it was the last time he would be seeing her. "From the day, I saw you in the carpark, I've been yours. I will continue to be yours until the day I die. I love you will all my heart."

....

a/n: oh hey, it’s me again. the past few weeks have been SO busy. work is busy, my personal life if busy, BUT i now have time to post!!!

so... i have three (YES THREE) chapters left of this story, i can’t believe it’s coming to an end. hopefully i will let you know in the next coming days the schedule for the next chapters. 

as always, thank you for reading/liking/commenting, it means the world xxx

[powermaknae]

Make a Wish

Birthday Boy! Yuta x Reader

You always celebrated Yuta’s birthday in a big way with surprises, friends and, of course, cake. This year you decided to do something very special for him.

~Smut, oral sex, hair pulling, kinky stuff, toys, unprotected sex, party themes, mentions of light drinking

Word Count: 2.3K~

A/N: In honor of our Takoyaki Prince’s birthday, I whipped up this little thing. If this doesn’t say that I’m a simp for Nakamoto Yuta, I don’t know what does. This man could spit in my face and I would thank him. (Sorry for any mistakes. I speed wrote this to get it finished and did not edit it at all :} ).

 Yuta’s birthday was always so special to you. You finally were able to celebrate the love of your life’s existence and shower him with love. You spent so much of your relationship not being able to celebrate it with him due to his busy schedule and other promotions, but this year, his big two five, you were finally able to celebrate together.

You had been planning it out, you would surprise him by ordering his favorite cake and invited some of the members over for drinks. You even went out and bought little decorations and balloons to put around the dorm.

You had a super secret surprise stashed away in his dresser draw that you were especially excited to try out tonight. You had found it in the back of an adult toy store a few weeks ago and new immediately Yuta would love to use it on you, so you bought it without telling him and wrapped it for him to find after the party.

Mark had taken him to go earring shopping to distract him while you set everything up. Taeyong and Doyoung helped place the balloons around the living room while you and Johnny went to pick up the food.

The cake was placed front and center at the table, surrounded by some of Yuta’s favorite snacks. The large number-shaped candles were already lit when you got the message from Mark, informing you that they had just entered the building. You quickly shushed everyone and hurried to turn off the lights.

The doorknob jingled as Yuta turned the key to enter. As soon as he turned the lights back on, the room roared to life with a “SURPRISE!” His radiant smile shined brightly against the flame of the candle. He immediately turned to you, taking you into his arms for a big hug.

“Did you do all this just for me?” You beamed up at him, watching his expression grow with happiness.

Johnny interrupted you with his frat boy persona, holding several bottles of soju in his two hands triumphantly.

“Come on. I’ll show you everything I found.” You dragged him by the wrist over to the table, pointing at all his favorite snacks. You grabbed a bottle from Johnny and poured yourself and Yuta a glass.

***

When the cake was half eaten, the trash can was filled with empty snack packages and everyone was more than a little tipsy, your collective friends started funneling out, leaving the residents of the 10th floor dormitory to clean up (minus Mark and Jungwoo, who were passed out).

While Yuta wandered off to use the restroom, Taeil meandered over to you casually, eyeing the mess of a kitchen that was left. He handed you a glass of water and leaned in. “Jaehyun and I will take care of this. We’re probably the most sober anyway. I saw what you got for Yuta. Enjoy.”

He winked at you as he went to find Jaehyun. Yuta reappeared, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You turn to face him, pressing your hands lightly against his chest as he holds you.

“I have another surprise for you,” you said with the most honey sweet voice you could muster among the alcohol.

“Baby girl, you’ve already spoiled me.” He leaned down to kiss you lightly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, minimizing the distance between the two of you. He pulled tighter against your waist and deepened the kiss, moving his lips gently against yours.

You managed to free yourself from his grip, grabbing his hand and tugged him behind you to his shared bedroom that you now had to yourselves. “Shouldn’t we help clean up,” he trailed behind you. “Taeil said he’d cover it.”

Closing the door behind you, Yuta quickly whipped you around, pushing your back into the door. He pulled you hips close, kissing you deeply in a moment of sobriety.

He pulled away but paid close attention to his proximity to you, careful not to pull too far away. He started easing his soft lips down to your neck, peppering it with kitten licks and small bites. “You’re so perfect,” he mewled against the skin.

You melted into his every touch, letting his hands and lips start to roam your body. He journeyed under your shirt, tugging at it lightly, but you denied him.

“Why don’t you go relax? I’ll be right there.” He lips curled into a smirk at the thought of what you had in store for him. He hesitantly pulled away, freeing you from the hard surface.

Yuta slumped onto the comfy bed, allowing himself to relax into the high of the alcohol. It was blissful but was still missing the warmth of his loved one. He closed his eyes, imagining what you would look like when you appeared again.

From the edge of the room, he heard the squeak of the door open once again. He slowly opened his eyes to gaze upon you. You had his signature favorite: one of his baggy sweatshirts that was too big for you, and thigh high blue striped socks. He smiled in a wholesome light, his eyes softening to a chocolate brown.

As you tiptoed ever-so-slowly closer to him, he spotted a new adornment around your neck. A black leather collar with a heart placed at the center reflected the low light of the atmosphere.

Seeing the collar around your pretty neck sparked that desire in Yuta once again. He couldn’t stop staring at it as he stood from the bed, looking for some contact. His hands immediately went to your bare ass, kneading it slightly as he began to kiss you aggressively. His movements were becoming slopping with the growing tension.

You tugged at the hem of his tshirt, slowly revealing the pale skin underneath. Yuta humored you, pulling the light wad of clothing over his head and throwing it behind him. The warmth radiating from his chest was comforting as you melted into his arms.

He tugs at your waist over top of the sweatshirt, coercing you to the bed with him. He pulls you onto his lap as he sits at the edge of the bed, holding your chest flush against his bare chest as he molds your lips together.

The rough contact of his black jeans against your core, even through the layer of underwear, was starting to become almost unbearable. You grind your hips against him lightly, trying to maintain your control and alleviate the pressure building.

Yuta moved one hand to your hip, guiding it lightly against him, and the other snaked in between your legs. A visible shiver swept over you at the sudden contact. He padded your swollen clit through your increasingly soaking underwear, the other hand making sure you met his movement.

His lips became feverish the longer you continue. You could feel his apparent erection pressing against you through the tight jeans.

He slows your movements against him for a moment, allowing himself to breathe.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and unbutton my pants for me?” His gaze was piercing as he looked you up and down over and over again. You smirked looking at his obvious discomfort.

The jeans were tighter than usual but you still managed to get them off along with his boxers in record time, landing them a position in the new pile of clothes forming in the corner. Upon taking them off, Yuta’s erection sprung to life, hitting his stomach. Your mouth watered just looking at it.

You positioned yourself in between his legs and wrapped one of your petite hands around it. He watched you carefully, following your movements with such love. You began stroking his cock slowly, savoring every reaction he would give you: every jerk, noise and, light push.

You moved your hand faster along his shaft, gaining even more energy from Yuta’s pleasure, but slowed again to see what he would do.

Expecting to be scolded, he simply brushed his fingers through your soft hair, pulling it back into hi fist and gripping it roughly. You already knew what he wanted, so instead of acting like a brat like most nights, you did as expected of you and began kissing up and down his shaft, licking intermittently. This earned you a small moan.

The more of him you took, the tighter his hold on your hair became, until you had taken as much of him as you could. You wrapped your hand around the base and began pumping again. Your cheeks hollowed and flattened out your tongue against his stiff cock. Your pace picked up, Yuta helping to bob your head on him until he was practically fucking your face.

He pushed your head up and down to his liking, taking you in every way he knew how. His cock began twitching against your tongue as you did the best you could to please him. His grip on your hair loosened suddenly and you glanced up at him, following his touch.

He lifted a finger, coaxing you back up from his cock. You obeyed, meeting him with your faces only inches apart. His index finger made its way down to your covered heat, brushing it lightly, making you squirm. He smirked up at you and seductively said, “Would you like to help me finish?”

It took a second to understand exactly what he is implying but you soon ended up climbing back onto his lap, straddling him under you and pushing him farther back onto the bed. Your slick permeating through your underwear as his hard cock is pressed close, only a single layer away.

You started to ride him slightly, soaking up any relief you could get. His finger still close to your core, Yuta slid your underwear aside, revealing your entrance.

You lifted yourself from his lap slightly, allowing him to align his member with you. He teased you, only pushing in the tip before pulling it out again. You whine with impatience, seeking the long-awaited pleasure of his cock inside you.

In one swift movement, Yuta snapped your hips down completely onto him. You let out a guttural moan escape your lips at the feeling of him filling you up. You could feel him stretching you out just a little, but nothing unfamiliar.

After sitting still for a second, allowing you to adjust, Yuta began bucking his hips up into you even deeper than you thought possible. You met his movements and bounced, intensifying every thrust.

His cock was pushing you over the edge, going in and out of your tight walls. You grew closer to your high with every thrust and you could tell Yuta was, too. His muscle started flexing and his cocked twitched inside you. Your moans were becoming louder, to the point that you knew for sure the other boys on the floor could hear.

Yuta loved showing everyone you were his. He loved pounding you so hard, they could hear it on all sides of the room. The knot in your stomach began to form, when Yuta sat up closer to you, pressing his warm lips against your neck and sucking harshly. He left several marks all the way from your jawline down to the edge of his sweatshirt.

He watched you bounce up and down with a fire in his eyes. He admired the marks he’d left around the collar, admired the collar itself and hard sexy it made you look.

“Yuta!” You yelled after one particularly rough trust. He could feel your walls tightening around him as he was reaching his own orgasm.

He dragged his long fingers up your body around your back and over every curved. He made his way up to your face, caressing it gently, before carefully wrapping them around your neck and giving it a good squeeze.

You let out a squeak in response, unable to hold back. His hand squeezed even harder the closer you got. In one final scream of his name, your orgasm washes over you, causing you to shake on top of Yuta, and lean your head back in ecstasy.

He showed his teeth at the beautiful sight of you, but his grip around your neck didn’t loosen. He keeps burying himself deep into you. You can’t hold your moans at the feeling of him pounding your sensitive pussy.

He became relentless, seeking his high with force, your moans fueling the fire within him.

He leaned his head back and let out several grunts before spilling his cum inside you. You moan out again, crying out his name as the sticky white substance coated your insides.

After riding out his high, his hand relaxed and your gasped for breath, letting the blood rush back to your head. You climbed off of him and collapsed next to him on the bed, the strength in your legs completely depleted. You could already feel the mix of fluids collection in your underwear, but you were way to tired to get up again.

Yuta, just as exhausted, simply looked to you with his sweet eyes and said, “Thank you for an amazing birthday.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” was all you could respond with before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

“I love you, too.” Yuta turned over and fell asleep cuddled up next to you.

[honey-dewey]

Sway

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Assassin Reader

Word Count: 1,838

Warnings: a bit sexier than my usual writing, one pretty knife, reader wears a dress so I guess it’s a female reader, but other than that I think it’s safe.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

They say when you engage in immoral or risky behavior that you’re dancing with the devil. If that’s true, you must be very good at dancing. Killing people is typically your area of expertise, but what happens when your target is much more interesting than you’d expected? 

Being an assassin had its perks. For one, you got paid a lot. You got into lots of places both legally and not so legally, and the thrill of the hunt made your entire body pulse with excitement. It was the perfect job.

However, it was jobs like this one that made you absolutely exhausted.

Your target was a man named Jack Daniels. He was, to the public, a high ranking employee at the Statesman distillery. But you knew better. He was a Statesman agent, and a damn good one too. You’d had your own share of Statesman encounters, including one with the mysterious Agent Whiskey who you’d identified as your target. Since then, you’d had a few more run-ins with Jack, but he’d never been your assignment.

Adjusting your dress, you sighed. Undercover work was always something you excelled at, and this time would hopefully be no exception. Statesman had announced a gala, although you didn’t know what the occasion was. They had a few every year that you ignored unless you had to, but this time, you would be attending. You had even bought a new dress for the occasion.

The dress in question was slinkier than you were used to. It was silk, colored in a deep rich red that reminded you of blood. The dress had a low back and front, showing what you hoped was a professional amount of skin. But it wasn’t the thin straps or the tight hug of the dress that made your heart flutter. It was the slit up your thigh, the cut of the fabric ending just below your dominant hand. Under the slit lay your weapon of choice. An ornate dagger, one of the only weapons you could possibly sneak into the gala.

You unsheathed the dagger, examining it before testing the edge on your thumb. A tiny drop of blood pooled on your skin, and you nodded, slipping the dagger back into its sheath and sucking on your thumb until the blood stopped.

The gala was being held in a ballroom closer into town, a place you were familiar with due to working there more than once. You knew the hallways and the doors, the secret passages and the security measures, knowing exactly where to make your move to ensure no one would find the body until you were long gone.

Music echoed behind the closed ballroom doors as you gathered your nerves. Jobs no longer made you nervous. In fact, you had to steel yourself so you wouldn’t get too excited, the adrenaline pumping before you needed it.

The doors opened silently, but your entrance drew a few eyes. People watched with a detached interest as you walked down the stairs, black heels clicking on the stone. To them, you were just another guest, here to mingle and drink and have innocent fun.

You caught his gaze quickly. He was standing to the side, talking to a few women all dressed as elegantly as you were. You smiled at him, and he tipped his hat ever so slightly in your direction. You had his attention.

The song ended, and as Jack Daniels excused himself to come talk to you, a song you recognized came on. ‘Sway’ by Michael Bublé.

You walked towards Jack, head held high. When you finally collided, you grabbed his tie and dragged him to a secluded corner. He smirked as you pushed him against a wall, one perfectly manicured hand on his chest, holding him in place. You were inches from his face, his breath tangling with yours as he breathed heavy, pupils wide.

Your non-dominant hand began to explore Jack’s chest, and his breathing picked up. You could feel the heavy pattering of his heart under your fingers as you slowly reached down with your other hand. Your fingertips were just brushing the tip of the dagger’s hilt when Jack’s hand caught the wrist of the hand exploring his body.

Next thing you knew, you were the one with your back against the wall, looking up into Jack’s eyes. He had one elbow pressed to the wall, the brim of his hat brushing your hair. His legs were barely touching yours, but his knee was against your thigh, trapping you in place. He was so close. His other hand brushed your bare thigh, smirking as he reached up your dress and slowly took your dagger out.

“Oh darlin’,” he drawled, spinning the dagger across his fingers. “Don’t you know it’s rude to kill a man on his birthday?” He took the ornate hilt and quickly stabbed the wall centimeters from your ear, effectively drawing all breath from your lungs. It quivered in the wall, and Jack leaned in close to your other ear, shifting his weight so his breath sent shivers down your spine when he spoke. “Why do you always have to kill the mood?”

He gave you one last smile before walking away, leaving you and your dagger against the wall, both shaking.

It took a minute for you to compose yourself, but when you did, you quickly tugged the dagger out, sheathing it and smoothing your dress down. Jack had walked away to go talk to someone at the bar, but he kept stealing glances in your direction, as if he was daring you to approach him again. The music, which was back at the forefront of your hearing, continued to play as you walked up to the same bar, sitting at the opposite end as Jack and ordering something to sip on.

“Well hello darlin’. What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ all alone at the bar?” An unfamiliar voice asked, and you rolled your eyes. A man who smelled strongly of alcohol was beside you, his smile lopsided and his tie half undone, the hat on his head tilted, but he made no move to adjust it.

You, instead of doing what you’d normally do, decided to incite some panic. You shifted your dress, showing the man the hilt of your dagger. “I’m here to kill the birthday boy.”

The man, despite his intoxication, leapt up, his eyes wide. “You’re-“

“Yep,” you said, walking off. Alarms rang out seconds later, but you didn’t move with any urgency. Slipping past the mass of panicked bodies, you slid into a secret entrance that was typically used for wait staff. Climbing the stairs, you soon got used to the emptiness of the slim hallways, the only sound being the click of your shoes.

Until you heard another set of footsteps behind you.

Whirling around and unsheathing your dagger, you pressed the tip against Jack’s neck, his mildly amused face curling into a smile as your heartbeat picked up.

“I should kill you right now,” you growled, pressing the dagger tighter into Jack’s neck, forcing him to take a step back, so he was pressed against the wall. Without the music, you could hear every little sound his breath made as his chest rose and fell.

“You won’t,” Jack said, hands up.

“Why?”

Jack’s smile never faltered. “Because you can’t.”

It was almost enough to make you drive the dagger through his heart. You had found it already, and knew exactly where you’d have to hit to kill him almost instantly. But you couldn’t bring yourself to draw your arm back. Instead, you sighed and sheathed your dagger. “Dammit Jack,” you grumbled. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Jack said, putting a hand around your waist. “How many times is this? Four?”

“Four,” you agreed, leaning into Jack’s touch. “I’m persistent.”

Jack nodded. “I see that,” he said, his other hand tracing over your thigh. “Well, I guess that’s a promise that I’ll be seeing you again.”

You grinned, pulling his hand out from under your dress. “And soon,” you purred, kissing Jack’s cheek and leaving a blood red lipstick stain.

Your trip home was uneventful. You’d removed your shoes, despite the fact that driving barefoot wasn’t the safest idea. Your head reeled with thoughts of Jack. You’d left him in the hallway, a smile on his face as he watched you go. Now, halfway to your apartment, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The apartment was dead black when you opened the door, but someone was lounging on the couch. You snuck up behind the figure, putting your hands over his eyes and smiling. “Guess who?”

Jack laughed. “Baby doll, did you really have to ruin my party?”

You turned a lamp on and sat down beside Jack. “I have a very specific skill set,” you said, leaning into Jack’s chest and kissing over the lipstick mark, renewing the vibrant red shade “Once an assassin, always an assassin. You’re home early, so what does it matter?”

“I asked you to help me come home early,” Jack pointed out. “Not to make it seem like someone’s trying to kill me.”

“Potato,” you said in a sing-song voice. “Anyway, do you want cake? I picked some up when I went to get groceries.”

Jack nodded. “Nice dress,” he added, watching you go. “Where’d that come from?”

Reaching into the fridge, you grabbed a cake and put it on the counter. “It’s my birthday present for you,” you said, cutting a slice of cake. “Happy birthday.”

As you handed Jack his cake, he pressed a warm hand to your bare thigh. “I get a knife to the throat and a pretty red dress for my birthday?” He asked. “God above, what did I ever do to deserve you?”

You laughed, swiping your finger through the icing and sticking it in your mouth. “We both tried to kill each other. Multiple times,” you reminded.

Jack fed you a bite of cake, and you hummed around his fork. “Darlin’, you trying to kill me somehow became the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said. “Thank you for springing me from that damned party.”

“Thank you for almost letting me kill you,” you said, leaning down and kissing Jack, the sugar sweetness from the icing mingling with the flavor of Jack’s lips. “I’m gonna go change. Meet you in the bedroom in ten?”

Jack smiled, putting his hand yet again on your thigh and pinching the soft flesh there. “Make it five. It was a damn struggle to keep my hands off you today.”

“Oh was it now?” You cooed, leaning in close. “Someone needs to learn some restraint.”

“Well maybe you should teach me,” Jack said in an equally teasing tone. “After all, you’re the assassin here.”

You chuckled, walking towards the bathroom with Jack not far behind. “Jack,” you said, unzipping the dress and letting it fall off your body. “I’m an assassin. Not a miracle worker. I don’t think God himself could teach you restraint.” You turned, grabbing makeup wipes so you didn’t stain the sheets again. “But,” you said softly, seeing the look on Jack’s face. “I’ll certainly try.”

Jack smiled, leaning on the edge of the bed and unbuttoning his shirt. “Yes ma’am. Where do we start?”

[nightswithkookmin]

WHAT WILL JIMIN POST ON JK'S BIRTHDAY 2020?

Interesting question. I get why my Askbox is flooded with it. May thirteen was a disappointment. Most Jikookers were looking forward to a reinforcement of a long established Jikook tradition- well everyone except me and a couple others I think. Y'all don't be paying attention. Lol

Jikook are complex beings and like any complex organism they learn to adapt to situations and surroundings. They are predictable in that way but also they are not. It's paradoxical, I know.

If you paid any attention to what was going on from late March through to June you'd have known there was little to no likelihood May 13 was gonna happen.

And if it had happened, it would have taken on a whole new meaning at least to some of us. But hey, 5/8 right? Sure. Jimin smart. We stan a Bigbrain.

Anywho, tomorrow is not about Jimin or Jikook or any ship. It's about JK. It's about celebrating the gift of life that he is. For all the times he's been hated on, this is the only day out of 365 days that we as a fandom get to put our differences aside and come together to show our love and appreciation for him- I hope.

I don't see why Jimin wouldn't do the same for him. Especially since it's been a long established tradition not just for Jikook but for all the members.

They all celebrate eachother's birthday to varying degrees but at the bare minimum they wish each other a happy birthday. That's the norm.

All the other members will wish JK a happy birthday and that includes Jimim. If you understand why people celebrate others birthday you'll understand this is not complicated at all. So it's not a question of will Jimin post tomorrow.

Jimin is a very kind, thoughtful and a loving person. It would be weird of him not to wish his fellow bandmate a happy birthday on his birthday. He would. He should. Rest assured.

But I understand that what y'all are asking me as far as Jikook is concerned and shipping goes is whether Jimin would do something extraordinary for JK this year like he did last year, what he would do and whether he would post about it.

Even though I am certain he will post, I can't tell you what that post is going to be, I'm an alien not Jesus you know?

What I can speculate on is whether or not Jimin would make another grand gesture like that of last year. Which is what this post is going to be about.

The answer to that question is not as simple as yes he would or no he wouldn't. Personally, I expect him to do something a little bit out of the ordinary or coded this year. I'll explain in a bit.

To be clear, I don't expect a repeat of last year or anything of the magnitude of last year at all as much as that would make me uWu so hard. Although... what if he pulls a 360 on us and propose to Jk on his birthday?what? I'm speaking it into existence!

What Jimin did last year was an exception not the norm. You don't fly half way across the world just because. To me that was a grand grand gesture in the history of JK's birthdays and I don't expect a repeat of it unless the circumstances that lead to that moment repeats its self.

The circumstances being that they were broke up and he was trying to fix things. Cough, cough.

JK's birthday last year was an Echo of Manila. A general consensus among Jikookers, is that JK had been mad because Jimin was choosing to spend time with Taemin on the eve of his birthday hence why he had had posted that song knowing full well Jimin would see it as a way to guilt trip Jimin.

If that is right, then Jimin flying over to be with Jk would be a huge statement.

2015 and 2019 are the years that have stood out to me most, birthday wise: Jimin saying he wanted to give JK a kiss on his 18th birthday and him flying from Paris to South K to be with JK on his birthday.

If you've ever heard Jimin talk about money, he is prudent and wise about money. I mean rather than spend millions on a luxury apartment he chose to buy an investment property instead. He is a Libra, I wouldn't expect anything less.

On his vacation trips, he's known to share cost of expenses with the friends he travels with if he's traveling with them. I won't call him frugal though, thoughtful and selective is more like it.

So when he does something of this nature, it's not nothing. He was making a statement period. He was proving something to someone- if you say Army I'll smack the back of your head. Lol

JK. He was proving something to JK. It's always been JK- so help me lord if you say it's Fanservice! It is not. It wasn't for Fanservice.

I've seen people around corners of the internet saying he didn't have to post his Paris video if he was going to go see JK anyway to celebrate with him. That the whole video message thing on Twitter seemed very much private.

I agree with the part about the video seeming private. It seemed personal to me. But it also seemed like the point of that video was to let JK know his location at the time to perhaps throw him off the surprise he had planned for later.

People have argued JM was just pulling a 'prank' on JK with that whole Paris trip to begin with. They were on a hiatus, they had been together prior to JM leaving for France a few days to JK's birthday so it doesn't make sense that they would be broken up at that time period and it doesn't make sense that Jimin will leave for Paris and fly back home only to leave again so it must be a prank.

... Sure. Valid point. However, I don't see Jimin being reckless with money or honestly that shallow. If that was a prank that was an expensive one.

And yes, Jimin didn't have to go on the trip. It wasn't business. It was leisure. I can see how that would be confusing to JK especially when it seemed JM was choosing to spend time with someone, be somewhere else rather than with him on his birthday- yet again. Coughing in Manila.

But sure, I can see how that would be the best 'prank' surprise for JK. Shaking my head. I don't think that was all that was happening with Jikook around that time as I have hinted at several times across my blog posts.

Jikook were broke up around that time, that trip was a grand gesture, Jimin's way to make up with Jk let him know he's learned his lessons. His friends are important but JK comes first. The lightning struck twice for JM and he got a second chance to redeem himself- the definition of GRAND gesture.

If you are a Kpop enthusiast you would also know about the political climate in S.K around that time frame and how it was impacting the Kpop world in general. Certain Boy Bands were under investigation for certain 'offences' I don't want to get into.

On August 11th, one member of such said boy band was arrested- allegedly. I don't know what it had to do with BTS or whether it had anything to do with them at all and I'm not insinuating anything but I just found that impromptu hiatus in August a bit suspicious giving everything else that was going on in S.K.

If 'people' were looking into Kpop boybands then I am certain BTS was on top of that list just because they are the biggest boyband and have been a target of haters for years.

Needless to say, I do not think they were gonna find anything at all on the boys if in deed they had looked but if the boys had a secret- like say two of their members being in the LGBTQ plus community then I assume that secret was bound to be found out?

It is why I believe the boys were asked to lay low in August and that Jikook specifically had been asked by BigHit to tone things down while they navigated the muddy mess of public scrutiny- in my opinion.

I also find it a bit interesting that both of Jikook later that same month and period would be involved in a scandal involving women- But feel free to draw your own conclusions on that however you please. This is just mine: I think that move was straight out of the PR books. Classic Olivia Pope-esque move. Lol

I know some people think it is in the best interest of Jikook to hide their relationship if they are real and that Jikook want to hide their relationship: I disagree.

Just based on my own observation, I don't think they enjoy hiding at all. Especially JK. Well, he did say he didn't want to hide anymore in GCF Saipan didn't he? Can't argue with that.

But also, out of the two, JK is the one who seems the most grounded and sure about their relationship. This is seen best in moments where they've almost been caught. JK's been the least bothered or throw off. Almost as if he doesn't mind if people find out about them.

For instance, when BTS exposed JK for sneaking into Jimin's bed Jimin looked terrified as fuck. He pointed to JK, almost throwing him under the bus but for someone behind the camera asking him to chill, Jimin would have freaked out of his mind.

Then we have that infamous moment when Jimin and JK walked into JK's room and spotted the camera. The look on JM's face said it all. But JK seemed pretty chill about it to me.

Now these moments are relevant because JM was caught unaware. They were both caught off guard and so their reactions were instinctive. By instinct Jimin freaked out which says to me he is afraid to be exposed or outed perhaps because he isn't ready to come out- yet. While JK's reaction on the other says to me he doesn't mind at all if people found out about them which could be because he is ready to come out.

I know what you are thinking and no. That time in the track when they were caught taking photos- JK looked more like he didn't appreciate the invasion of his privacy rather then terrified he was caught. They were on set and so they knew there were cameras roaming around and anyone could stumble on them. They were both consciously self aware of their environment which is why JM was able to make a quick comeback.

I can go on and on about this about this topic but the post is already getting too long.

My point is, Jikook don't like to hide. When you are in love you want the whole world to know. And so often, they fluctuate between wanting to keep their relationship a secret for the sake of their careers and wanting to declare and openly claim eachother.

Keeping their relationship a secret is bound to be stressful on them physically and emotionally. Just because they don't like to be outed don't mean they enjoy hiding.

Their secret is not theirs alone to tell. They have people whose careers depend on them. Their secret is inextricably linked with five other people. People whose careers could end instantly if their secret so much as came out accidentally or even by design.

I don't think either of them is selfish enough to risk that. Not even in the name of love. And this is especially true for Jimin the way I see it. As for JK..... I don't think he gives a shit. Bless him.

This doesn't mean, however, that they don't enjoy teetering the line. It's part of the thrill that fuels their passions- when they get to play at being caught and exposed or just the mere thought they are out smarting the public- fucking exhibitionist!

Jokes aside, I believe there is a sense of comfort and security they get from knowing there are thousands of people out there who enjoy and celebrate their love as openly as they would want to and they live openly vicariously through us.

Our support and acceptance means so much to them. Which is why often you find them reaching out to us.

Being told to lay low even if it's for their own interests would get on their nerves especially for a rebel like JK and Jimin knew this hence why that public display of his affection for Jk on Twitter.

Thus, I do I think JM would make another gesture similar to what he did last year but whatever gesture of he does make one would be unique in it's own way from last year's and would be more of an assurance of his love for JK and a prove to Army that they are fine just because i think they have both been through a lot this year just as he said in the dynamite MV reaction VLive which was rudely sabotaged by Tae.

Jimin seemed like he wanted to have a 'public' moment with JK as explained in my previous post on the Dynamite Reaction Vlive. And given as that moment was interrupted, I expect him to try that again. Whatever message he wanted to deliver it seemed more intended for JK as much as us their supporters.

He has been pretty active on social media lately in the days leading up to JK's birthday. He seems to be gearing up for something. He ain't slick.

So yea, part of me hopes and expect him to do something nice, to make a statement similar to last year's but I cannot ignore also that there's been a lot of eyes and attention on Jikook a lot lately. More so than usual.

Posting something of that nature would single them out and only escalate the situation especially if it is something that makes them both stand out from the others.

For context, I am talking about the heat they recieved as a result of the Dynamite MV. That heat is drenched in homophobia and they and BigHit could care shit about that as I explained in my previous post but you have to understand it can have a negative impact on their mental health.

I mean, NamJoon is constantly being paired with JK a lot lately. It's almost as if he is keeping an eye on Him constantly if you know what I mean. Tae has also been keeping an eye on Jikook, outing Jikook's schemes and shenanigans before they happen like in that Dynamite MV Reaction VLive where he asked JK not to look into the camera during Jimin's solo commentary.

It's understandable. Their interest is as stake too. If Jikook go down, they are going down too. It's daisy.

What I'm saying is, Jikook is being monitored and it would be daring of Jimin to do something as grand for JK openly like that.

But who knows. If it's gonna make JK happy because they've both been through a lot this half of the year then JM would definitely definitely do it. He is defiant like that and he can be a bit of a dare devil when it comes to proving his stance to Jk. He wouldn't hesitate for a second. I love that about him.

Mad respect for him if he does. Mad mad respect for him if he does. But if he doesn't you'd all know why.

In conclusion, I'm saying I'm expecting something more than a happy birthday text from Jimin this year. I'm expecting something more meaningful, deep, coded and uniquely Jikook.

If it happens to be a proposal Ayla you can have all my shmoney! Lol

Signed,

GOLDY

[violetwolfraven]

If you’re still taking requests maybe 1+4 for Sprace?

Canon-era in general

And

Soulmate AU

I am always taking requests, my dude. Anyway here we go! This is mostly in the musicalverse but if I reference a few movieverse characters as older Newsies during Race’s childhood...😏 Also there are a couple of ocs in here, and it gets a bit angsty towards the end. Enjoy!

Tw: Underage drinking, a couple of side characters are mentioned to have died, and homophobia is kind of implied, I guess?

...

Race had grown up knowing that he liked boys, and that didn’t really match up with what people said love was supposed to be, but that was just how Race was.

And it wasn’t like it was hurting anyone, was it? Being only a little kid, Race was too young to actually do anything, and if he sometimes paid attention to the way a friend looked really cute when he’d just woken up, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he had to or even could act on those little crushes.

It was like Manhattan’s leader, Waffles, said. He called it ‘puppy love’ when Jack snuck glances at a girl his age on the street or Crutchie shyly gave one a flower when he handed her mother a pape. Nobody actually acted on these things.

Little baby crushes when you were a kid meant nothing, and that meant that Race would outgrow this and start liking girls in time to meet his soulmate, right? Because soulmates meant a boy with a girl, and nothing else, right?

At least, that was what he thought, until he and Jack walked into an alley when Race was 8 and Jack was 10 and found a couple of older boys kissing—which Race was pretty sure you were only supposed to do with someone you loved.

Snitch and Itey jumped apart, staring at the younger boys in shock. Then they each grabbed one and dragged them into the Lodging House bathroom to tell them that Race and Jack could not tell anyone.

Race was too scared to speak (Snitch and Itey were significantly bigger than him) but Jack stepped in front of him and demanded to know why.

That was when Itey sighed, said that maybe it would be better if Waffles explained this, and gone to get their leader.

Race hadn’t really believed it at first when Waffles sat them down and carefully explained that Itey and Snitch were soulmates.

“That ain’t possible,” Jack argued, “They’s both boys.”

“Yeah,” Waffles said, “And maybe it’s a cruel trick of fate or a mistake or whatever the church thinks, but here with the Manhattan Newsies? We don’t care. Okay? We’s a family. We don’t turn on Itey and Snitch for somethin’ they can’t control.”

“Why would we turn on them?” Race asked, confused. That was what this was; confusing.

Waffles sighed, “Look, among family, it’s okay. We don’t care who your soulmate is. But the rest of the world does, okay? Adults don’t know nothin’. They think boys lovin’ boys and girls lovin’ girls is wrong.”

“Would Itey and Snitch get hurt if adults found out?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, kiddo, they would. And that’s why you can’t tell no one, okay, boys? Nobody outside the house finds out and no new kids either ‘till we know we can trust ‘em. Okay?”

“Okay,” they both said, and though, like most people, Itey and Snitch kept their soulmarks covered, as it was something intensely personal and none of anybody’s business, from there, Race started realizing that he should have seen something between them a long time ago.

It was fairly obvious, in how they shared a bed, snuck off occasionally, and sometimes let touches of reassurance or affection linger a bit longer than they probably should.

Race started noticing how the other older kids covered for them. How Skittery would knock something over, allowing them to slip out together under the excuse of not wanting to help him clean it up. How Boots would make a joke to draw attention to himself if they started getting too obvious. How Waffles would take on any new kid thinking of selling with them, himself, so they had an excuse to keep being just the two of them.

It was... nice, in a mushy kind of way that they had that support. And Race didn’t really think seriously about kissing his crushes yet, but he did wonder if he would have that if he did.

Race’s soulmark—the first name of his soulmate that appeared on his wrist on his 10th birthday—was Sean.

It was a boy’s name. That scared Race a little.

But every time he saw the older Manhattan kids go out of their way to make sure nobody noticed Itey and Snitch, he got a little less scared, but still a bit confused

He stopped being scared, at least mostly, when Jack came to him, nervously confessing that he liked girls and boys, and his soulmark said a boy’s name; David. There was something less scary about being different when you didn’t have to be alone in it.

Of course, among the Newsies, finding your soulmate was always a little complicated, because damn near everybody had nicknames. Honestly, Race‘s soulmate could be almost any of his friends for all he knew, but he liked to think he didn’t. He liked to think he’d know immediately if he found him.

Race was 10 when he started selling at Sheepshead, having a deal with a Brooklyn girl, Palomino. She got to use his cuteness for easy sales, and in return, she taught him to weaponize just the right combination of friendliness, flirtation, and annoyance to get people do to pretty much whatever he wanted.

Race asked her when he was 11 what she thought about soulmates, particularly same-sex soulmates. He wanted her opinion because while Palomino was kind of an asshole, there was one thing she was really good at, and that was survival.

And Race wasn’t sure what he thought about the fact that his soulmate was a boy yet, but he knew that just living as someone like that, you had to be careful to survive.

‘Mino just shrugged, “Love is unreliable, Racer. It never does what you want it to and more often than not, it’s a liability. Soulmates ain’t an exception just cause they’s supposed to be together.”

“What about boys lovin’ other boys and girls lovin’ other girls?”

“The fuck did I just say? Love’s a liability. Feelin’s get ya hurt—even more so if those feelin’s is illegal.”

Race struggled to get what he was really asking across, “But if it’s illegal... does that make it wrong?”

‘Mino’s face softened infinitesimally. No one who didn’t know her would even recognize it as softening.

“What did I teach ya, kid? Long as ya don’t get caught, nothin’s illegal. Whether ya love girls or boys or both ain’t my business—it’s still stupid. Now, come on. If we place our bets right, we can both go home with some extra dough.”

Yeah... Race never mastered the whole ‘winning bet-placing’ thing. He never accepted Palomino’s offers to teach him to pickpocket, either, though there were winters where he wished he did.

And he never believed her when she said love was stupid. Because Palomino might have a cynical, angry outlook on life, but Race didn’t. Whenever he asked Waffles or Jack or any of the kids back home in Manhattan, they always said love and soulmates were good things.

Of course, it wasn’t like her opinion mattered anymore. After that winter when Race was 11, he never saw his old mentor again.

Sure, Race didn’t know anything about love besides the platonic bond he had with friends, but he still believed in it with how he saw pairs of his friends fall into it more and more as he got older. Love and soulmates made people happy. That much, he could tell.

Race was 16, Jack was Manhattan’s leader, and he’d been selling at Sheepshead for years when he learned that it wasn’t always that simple.

He and his friend Spot were a little drunk, probably, because Spot had gotten hurt in a fight and hadn’t wanted to drink his cheap booze to dull the pain alone.

Race had met him when he was 12 and Spot was 13, not long after Spot became King of Brooklyn. In the last 4 years, they’d become close friends. He was Race’s best friend, to be honest, besides maybe Albert. Of course, Jack and Crutchie didn’t count because they were more Race’s brothers.

And if Spot was like, really attractive, that didn’t matter. He wasn’t interested in Race. Race didn’t even know if he was interested in boys, period. It was just never something they talked about.

Spot didn’t seem like a Sean, anyway.

“Hey, Spot, buddy, do you ever think about... like... soulmates?” Race asked, trying not to slur his words.

Spot laughed kinda tiredly, “Sometimes. Why?”

“Just ‘cause...” Race tried to think despite his mind being fuzzy, “What do ya think about ‘em?”

Spot just shrugged, “Love’s a liability. Soulmates ain’t an exception.”

“Ooh, I see you’s usin’ Palomino’s philosophy.”

They both laughed.

Was it just the booze making Race slow, or were Spot’s eyes lingering on his lips as he put his cigar in his mouth?

“Oh, Palomino,” he muttered, “That bitch. I ain’t thought about her in a while.”

“That ain’t nice—she’s dead, Spottie.”

“Yeah, which means she ain’t here to care what I say ‘bout her.”

Race’s laugh sounded drunk even to him, “She tried to teach me to pickpocket.”

“She did teach me to pickpocket.”

“Spot, you son of a bitch, you actually let her teach ya to steal?”

“She taught all the younger Brooklyn kids when I was little. She was older and smarter than me, so’s I kinda did whatever she told me. I don’t steal nowadays though, if I can help it. Ain’t worth the trouble with the bulls.”

“She was pretty smart,” Race admitted, “I dunno if she was right ‘bout soulmates, though.”

Spot looked away from Race’s face, taking another swig of alcohol, “She was.”

Race took another sip of his own drink, a bit disappointed, for some reason, “How do ya know?”

“Because Waffles was hers and they both knew it and it just hurt ‘em both.”

“Oh,” Race looked at the floor, “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah,” Spot laughed, “One pair of Newsies actually landed right side up and it was the one where both of ‘em died.”

“That ain’t funny, Spot.”

Race hadn’t thought about ‘Mino in a while, either. Honestly, he hadn’t even thought about Waffles, and that made him sad because they both deserved to be remembered and—

“Hey, hey, Racer, it’s okay. Don’t cry. That was stupid of me.”

Race remembered to hug Spot gently as his friend embraced him. They were drinking for a reason, so Race avoided touching Spot’s ribs. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his neck.

Spot didn’t hug often, but when he did, it felt special. It felt warm and safe, like home.

“I’m sorry, Race, I just... they actually wound up as a girl and a boy and they wasn’t together, but they should’ve been and... I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”

“I ain’t gonna cry.”

Spot pulled away enough to look him in the eye to make sure he wasn’t lying.

Race couldn’t say he was sorry that Spot kept holding onto him. Their faces were very close together.

“Do ya really think love is stupid, Spottie?”

Spot shrugged, “Everyone I know what’s in it gets hurt. I mean... you’s seen what it does to Cowboy and Mouth, right? Knowin’ all it would take is one bad person findin’ out ‘bout them.”

“But they makes each other happy,” Race pointed out, “Ain’t that what’s really important?”

“I dunno, just seems easier not to have to worry ‘bout it. Soulmates is just another person who can hurt you or be used against you, and besides— just cause the universe says you’s supposed to be in love don’t mean ya have to. I sure don’t give a damn about whoever mine is.”

Race smiled, tapping the piece of cloth Spot used to cover his soulmark, “What’s the harm in your best friend knowin’, then?”

“Why?” Spot teased, “Hopin’ it’s you?”

“I’m fairly certain it ain’t,” Race said, “We’s known each other for years. If we was soulmates, we’d’ve found out by now. Still, ya never have shown me your mark.”

“You haven’t shown me yours, either.”

“Fair.”

Race thought about it for a second.

“What if we showed ‘em at the same time? I mean, ain’t no harm in it, right? Only one of my close friend’s Marks I ain’t seen is yours.”

“Yeah,” Spot muttered, “Same for me, I guess. Showin’ ‘em at the same time sounds fair.”

“Course it is,” Race let go of him, still staying sitting pretty close, and untied the strip of cloth from his own wrist, “Ready?”

Spot untied his, “Set.”

“Go.”

They showed their soulmarks at the same time. By the time of day, it was almost too dark for Race to read the text on his friend’s wrist.

Almost.

Anthony.

“Shit,” Race mumbled under his breath, “Oh my God.”

Spot was still silent, just staring in shock at the name on Race’s wrist.

Any chance of it being a different Anthony was gone, now, by the look on his face.

“Spot...”

Spot finally looked him in the eye, and Race could see pain there, but also some kind of... relief.

Race knew exactly how he felt. He’d somehow... well, he hadn’t expected it, but it wasn’t surprising, either.

He was glad it was Spot. He was glad it was someone he already knew. Someone he already... already loved.

Race dared to lean a little closer, knowing Spot would read his intentions and pull away if he wanted to.

He didn’t pull away, though his deep breath was shaky.

Their faces were close enough that Race could smell what they’d been drinking on Spot’s breath.

He didn’t see any signs of him not wanting it, so Race leaned forward enough to kiss Spot as softly as he knew how.

For a second, he thought maybe Spot was kissing him back, and then hands were on his shoulders, gently pushing him away.

When Race opened his eyes, his soulmate had an extremely pained look on his face, and he was already grabbing his strip of cloth to cover his wrist again.

“I’m—“

“Don’t be sorry, Race,” he said quietly, “Just... go. You’s gonna have to run for it or you’ll miss the last carriage to hitch a ride home.”

A small part of Race was hurt and angry and wanted to argue that, no, they needed to talk about this and they needed to talk about it now.

But Spot looked agonized enough as it was, and the larger part of Race didn’t want to cause him any more pain.

He stood up and walked all the way back home.

[leechonspeeddial]

Midnight Shift: The Serpent at Burger King - A Seduction of Kevins Summary: The Devil comes disguised as everything you want, Alice Cullen comes with fondue fountains and Bugattis. wc: 1.7k Read on ao3

There was one simple lesson I learned from a young age and quickly internalized while living as a Cullen.

Never play chess with a psychic.

You think a mind reader is a problem? No, you just have to add on geographical distance and then you're back on an equal playing field; as long as you keep apart, you can use your best strategies and winning is still possible. A psychic though, there is no distance you can go to be hidden from their sight. Once they get their teeth in you, your odds at winning are – for a lack of a better word – shit. So, as I held Alice's gaze at our local Burger King, I reminded myself this one very important rule.

Never play chess with a psychic.

Too late.

If you did find yourself playing chess with a psychic, the best course of action would be to become irrational and flip the board. You might not win, but neither would they and you'd save yourself the effort. I took a deep breath and assessed the situation. There were currently five humans with ten pairs of working human eyes at the restaurant; flipping the board would be disastrous, either people would die or they'd bear witness to vampiric activity. So that's out of the question, next strat.

Though Alice had gotten used to reading around the blind spots caused by me, she hadn't totally mastered it yet. My best choice was to act without thinking and take over the conversation as much as possible. That, well, that I could manage no problem.

"Well, well, well. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Assistant Manager?" I addressed Gay Kevin, hoping to also neutralize Jasper. Mr. Emotional Roofie was another obstacle here, trying to goad my coworkers so that they emotionally overwhelm him was my best shot. "Showing up two hours late to your shift with no warning?"

Gay Kevin looked exhausted.

"Please, not in front of the customers," he sounded embarrassed. Not Kevin snorted and took the interruption as an opportunity to make Milkshake boy his drink and get away from Alice. Meanwhile, Straight Kevin hopped over the counter and directly headed towards the old fries – if we didn't do our duty to eat them, they would be thrown out.

I also took notice of the guy that came in with the Kevins; he was shorter than Gay Kevin but slightly taller than Straight Kevin, he had thick black hair, but more importantly, he carried a video camera with him. He observed us, brown eyes full of amusement, and I sincerely hoped he was a vlogger.

"They aren't customers," I chirped with a predatory smile.

"I am a one though," Milkshake boy frowned. I waved him off.

"You're Not Kevin adjacent. You don't count," Gay Kevin looked increasingly irritated despite Jasper's attempt at giving chill vibes. He crossed his arms.

"So, what's this? You decide to throw a party while I was gone?"

I was about to retort when Alice interrupted me. I glared.

"There IS a party involved, but not here and not right now. Alice Cullen, nice to meet you, I'm –"

"Resentment's sister," Alice scrunched up her nose but nodded.

"Yup! And I came here to personally invite you, other Kevin, and Not Kevin to Nessie's party"

"You said you were born on 9/11," Straight Kevin's said accusingly with a mouth full of fries.

"It's not a birthday party," Alice tried to clarify, only to be drowned out by Not Kevin.

"You were born on 9/11?" I turned to address him and realized he was making Milkshake boy a chocolate shake, ruining all the hard work I put into my performance. Today was definitely not my day.

"I mean, yeah, but not like 9/11 9/11. I'm only 16," Not Kevin nodded but then his eyes widened as a realization seemed to hit him.

"Oh fuck. I forgot that was 20 years ago…"

"I wasn't even born 20 years ago," Straight Kevin added and it seemed to act as a punch to Not Kevin's gut.

"God, you guys are babies. I remember my parents picking me up from kindergarten early and being glued to the news for the rest of the day," Gay Kevin's statement also appeared to have a negative effect on Not Kevin, making him look even more miserable. Camera man looked like there was no place he rather be. Alice, well, she looked endlessly irritated.

"I feel so old" Not Kevin whispered, shell-shocked.

"You are old. What are you, like 50?" Not Kevin glared at me.

"What's 9/11?"

I blinked. Everyone went quiet and stared at Milkshake boy, who looked very confused. No one spoke for a full beat.

"Jack's 19 and, uh, Canadian," Not Kevin shrugged helplessly and said as if that explained everything. He handed the kid his milkshake.

"Hey, I thought there weren't any Oreos –"

"ANYWAY," Alice said loudly and we all looked at her, "it's not a birthday party. It's more like a celebration of Nessie's first job. Our family would love to have all of you for dinner"

"She means that we'd love to have you at the event. Not that we want to eat you for dinner," Jasper added unnecessarily and made me want to face palm. So, I did.

"I wasn't worried about possible cannibalism when she said it, but now I am," Straight Kevin took a wary step away from Jasper. Alice rolled her eyes.

"There will be plenty of free food and you can take as many leftovers as you want with you," Straight Kevin seemed to seriously consider this.

"I'm in," Alice handed him a pink envelope and smiled. Fuck.

Improvise.

"Speaking of customers. We have one right now," I pointed at Camera man, "so we can't deal with you right now," I tried to push Alice out the store but she held her ground.

"I'm also not a customer," he shrugged, "I came for the rats"

Shit.

"Tài…don't do this" Gay Kevin pleaded.

"My hands are tied. I promised my audience," so he was some sort of vlogger. This was admittedly the only good thing that has happened today.

"See, he's not a customer. I can stay," I groaned at Alice's smug tone.

"Technically, you're both loitering. So, neither of you should stay"

"I agree with the Assistant Manager"

Alice and I stared down at each other while Camera man and Gay Kevin had a silent conversation with their eyes. For the next while, the only sounds that could be heard in the restaurant were Straight Kevin loudly chewing, Milkshake boy slurping, and Olivia Rodrigo's drivers license playing on the speakers.

Suddenly, Not Kevin snapped his fingers, drawing our attention to him.

"You know, it occurs to me that since both Kevins are finally here, I can take my break. Come on Jack, I'm taking you home," he quickly made his way around the counter and grabbed Milkshake boy. "I'll make sure to call if I'm somehow two hours late," I smirked at Alice as her eyes narrowed. I greatly encouraged any action that made her look like that.

Milkshake boy tilted his head and didn't let himself be dragged out of the joint. I had half a mind to help Not Kevin.

"But dad said to –"

"Your dad will be ok with this as long as you don't set the house on fire. Again" Milkshake boy frowned.

"It happened once. I said I was sorry"

"Yeah, yeah. Come on bud, time's ticking"

Finally, that seemed to get Milkshake boy moving and heading to the door.

"Don't forget your invite!" Alice called out.

"We're good," Not Kevin responded with a hand on the door and the other pulling the teen along.

"Did I mention there will be a fondue fountain?"

Not Kevin hesitated by the door and I could only feel horror as my stomach dropped. Not Kevin was weak for cheese and cheese related by-products.

"Chocolate or cheese?"

"Both," I held my breath. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fucking fair.

"Shame, I'm on a diet"

"You aren't –"

And they were both gone before Milkshake boy could finish calling out Not Kevin's blatant lie. I fist bumped the air and stuck my tongue out at Alice, fully intending to gloat over this minor victory.

That is, until I saw Alice smiling.

Fucking psychics.

"What's got you so smug," I snarked, hoping to get a hint of whatever vision she just had. She smirked and I could tell she could see right through me. So much for not playing chess with psychic.

"I had a sudden revelation that everything will be alright," her eyes twinkled with mischief and, not for the first time, I was very jealous of Edward. Why the fuck did he get the mind reading powers? Tactile thought projection was so stupid and useless the majority of the time.

"You're so fucking annoying"

"I prefer the term persistent," I'd prefer if she was set on fire. "Which reminds me, hey boys"

Camera man and Gay Kevin stopped doing whatever the hell they were doing and paid attention to Alice, who was holding up one her dumb little pink envelopes.

"What do you say, a chance to eat fancy rich people food and see some fancy rich people cars," Camera man turned to Gay Kevin.

"Babe"

"Is this like, appropriate. Professionally speaking," Gay Kevin scrunched up his nose trying to figure out the etiquette of this weird ass situation.

"I'm more than happy to take you guys on a spin in my brand-new Bugatti"

"Babe"

"Why does this feel like bribery?" Gay Kevin narrowed his eyes at Alice, he seemed incredibly suspicious.

"Because it is," I growled and attempted to set Alice on fire with my stare.

"And I fully admit it. I just want to throw a good party, and guest are a very important part," she stretched out her hand towards Camera man, "think about it, that's all I ask"

Camera man and Gay Kevin shared a look, and Camera man grabbed the envelope. Ugh.

"Wonderful! Remember to R.S.V.P., we'll leave you to it," she waved and grabbed Confederate hubby.

They walked away and I could hear Alice speak, her voice far too low for human ears, but just the right volume for me.

"There's been a change of plans, we're meeting up Esme"

I scowled. I knew it was bait, I knew Alice wanted me to hear her, and it was driving me insane. Why would they need to see Esme? Why would Alice want me to know this?

I fucking hated my life.

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper - A Deeper Look (STORY SPOILER)

A Closer Look - Author’s Breakdown of the Story 

(Contains Spoilers)

So, I said I wasn’t going to do this, but I know what it’s like to read a book or watch a movie and end up with more questions than answers. Personally, it irritates the fuck out of me. While I want you, the reader, to draw your own conclusions from My Brother’s Keeper, I want to give you some behind the scenes looks into the story, as a whole, to help you along. If you think I was saying something else, then, by all means, run with it…I ain’t mad at you.

Chapter 1

Hvitserk is sitting with his first victim and he’s just zoning out. He’s having a crisis of conscious about what he’s doing, that’s when he starts thinking about Ivar. To make himself feel better about the situation he’s in, he starts to compare himself to Ivar, saying that Ivar is the sick and sadistic one.

Ivar leaves Hvitserk alone with Astrid – something he does a lot. He likes to get his head together and figure out what he’s going to do. He gives Hvitserk a lot of downtime with their victims. It’s not until Hvitserk makes a “mistake” does Ivar appear. He shows up when Hvitserk can’t handle what he’s done. He’s the one that tells Hvitserk that everything is okay and he’ll take care of him. He makes it better for him and allows him to room to grieve over what he’s done.

Astrid, the first victim, never sees the two of them together. She’s dead before Ivar comes into the room.

Chapter 2

Hvitserk wakes up from days of being unconscious only to find that Ivar has taken care of everything. He wasn’t strong enough to deal with the fact that he’s done it again. He’s gone and killed another person, so he needed to retreat into himself. When that happens, Ivar handles everything – he cleans up the mess. He takes care of Hvitserk and makes sure he has everything he needs. He makes sure the bills are paid, cooks breakfast, calls into work…he is the protector. He’s the sadistic one that finds all the murder and mayhem amusing, while Hvitserk is embarrassed and ashamed of it.

Hvitserk says something important in this chapter. He says he had a normal childhood filled with love and it was happy. That no one touched him that he just had some doctors tell him they didn’t know why he was like he was.

He’s recreated his past so much in his head that it was happy. None of the bad things happens because remembering hurts – and he doesn’t like pain. He doesn’t deal with it well. His colorful recreation of the past is an important foreshadowing for the rest of the story.

Chapter 3

Hvitserk is in awe of Ivar’s strength and the fact that he’s everything that he isn’t. But, Ivar is jealous when Thora is around. Ivar is angry because he wants to go out and party but Hvitserk wants to stay in with Thora – always tearing Hvitserk between the life he thinks he wants and what he is. This is important because it shows how he’s constantly split between who he is and what he thinks he should be.

However, Thora is the key to this chapter. Notice, that she and Hvitserk have been dating for over a year, yet, she’s never met Ivar. She only knows what she’s heard of him when he has a meltdown, or from what Hvitserk describes. As he’s on downstairs, throwing shit and arguing with Hvitserk, she’s too scared to leave the room.

Hvitserk makes it a point to keep them apart because he’s afraid of what Ivar will do to her. And Ivar wants to kill Thora because she’s his last little piece of conscious, that if (Ivar) can just get rid of, Hvitserk will be free.

Chapter 4

This chapter was loaded with clues.

Hvitserk spends a lot of time talking about how charismatic Ivar is and how everyone just loves him. How people are just drawn to him – how he’s the complete opposite of his brother. While Ivar is magnetic, Hvitserk is awkward. It’s no wonder people don’t pay him much attention when the two of them are around.

When they spot Kalf, he only interacts with Ivar. Ivar’s putting the moves on him and Hvitserk are watching like a stalker from across the table. Even when they get up to leave the club, Hvitserk walks behind them and watches the way Kalf walks with Ivar to the car.

Ivar is the one that gets Kalf in the car and bashes his head against the dashboard. All Hvitserk can do is sit in the backseat like a giddy school girl. Yet, Hvitserk is the one that carries Kalf into the warehouse (Ivar can’t because of his disability). If you notice, Ivar never does anything that exerts physical strength against his victims – he’s more mental strength. He’s got a physical impairment. But, to Hvitserk, he’s perfect.

Anyway, again, Ivar and Hvitserk aren’t in the room at the same time when poor Kalf is being abused. Ivar takes his time and goes first, while Hvitserk is zoning out, looking around the place. He doesn’t like blood and yelling and Ivar makes sure there’s a lot of that, so he likes to leave the room. Hvitserk is just about the power he gets from rape. He doesn’t need all the other stuff.

When he starts having sex with Kalf, Ivar is in the room, egging him on – but Ivar doesn’t partake. Ivar NEVER partakes. Ivar doesn’t have sex with anyone (again, it leads to his disability) and because they don’t dabble in each other’s pleasures. Hvitserk doesn’t torture, Ivar doesn’t rape. It’s that simple. But, Ivar loves to push Hvitserk to the brink of becoming an animal. He sees what Hvitserk wants to be and can almost get him there.

Once it’s over, and Hvitserk is spent, before the guilt sets in, Ivar is there to take care of things. Again, he makes sure the body is disposed of, because it may be too much for Hvitserk to handle and then he may admit to himself that he went too far. It’s easier for Hvitserk to block it out that way if he doesn’t know all the details.

Chapter 5

Hvitserk is on edge because killing Kalf didn’t satisfy him. He’s devolving. He’s not getting off on the one victim every so often anymore. He needs it more and more now. It used to be that just rape was enough. Now it’s getting to the point that he doesn’t care so much what happens to them afterward as long as he can fulfill his needs. He needs more. Each one has to be bigger and better than the last.

Even being with Thora isn’t enough for him to settle his nerves. He doesn’t want to believe that Ivar is right and he needs this, but it’s in his blood. He can’t stop it. Still, it doesn’t stop him from feeling guilty when he finds out that Kalf had a life before meeting them; one of them being Thora.

Of course, he’s overwhelmed when he finds out and runs to Ivar. He has to disappear because only Ivar can comfort him. And while he’s away, passed out from the guilt, Ivar takes care of him, the house, and everything else.

Chapter 6

This is the chapter where Ivar takes Hvitserk to the cabin for his birthday. It’s his way of showing him that it’s okay to be who is he. The cabin is also it’s also reminiscent of the shed where some of the abuse used to happen when he was little. By making a place like that, as an adult, Ivar is giving him his power back. The fact that Hvitserk is giddy about making plans to bring someone back to the cabin shows that he’s farther gone than he thinks.

Chapter 7

Ivar and Hvitserk have a conversation on what their idea of a perfect world would be like. Hunting people, doing what they want. Thora having the kids, and just the two of them raising them. It shows that they are inseparable. And no matter how much Hvitserk thinks he wants to be with Thora, he really wants to be with Ivar. He’s left his girlfriend in the bed, sleeping, to join his brother in his bed to talk about how he feels, his dreams…all the things he should be sharing with his girl. Ivar is truly his partner, not Thora. Ivar treats Hvitserk with the care of a lover and Hvitserk is in love with him – not in a romantic way, but in a romanticized way.

Chapter 8

The biggest clue is in this chapter. Again, Ivar has left Hvitserk alone with a victim. Yudu was more than happy to leave with Ivar but found herself in Hvitserk’s clutches. She never saw the two of them together. She thought she was getting the one brother but got a surprise.

When Hvitserk is talking to Yudu, and teasing her because she wants to leave, he tells her that she can’t. That he’s not the bad guy, Ivar is. He says, “He won’t let you. When he comes back here, he’s going to do everything he wants to do. Then he’s going to kill you because he wants to or he’s going to make you beg him to put you out of your misery.” She responds, “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re the fucking pig rapist…you sorry sack of shit!” She was genuinely confused.

It wasn’t until she starts telling Hvitserk that he’s weak and he’s nothing does he lose his temper and his sadistic side comes out. He kills her with the type of force that Ivar would use. It takes someone making him lose his cool for him to snap like that and be fully aware of it. But once he calms down, he blacks out just when Ivar is there to take over and protect him.

Chapter 9

This chapter shows the dynamic between the two brothers. Ivar is the polar opposite of Hvitserk. Nothing bothers him. He’s in control. Hvitserk is around, but Ivar is making sure he’s being babied and protected. Not even the television is going to upset him. Ivar is in control, of everything.

It also shows how quickly both of them can be distracted when they see something (someone) they want. Their new neighbor makes them forget all about Hvitserk’s insecurities because they can only concentrate on who she is and that they want her.

Chapter 10

Another chapter loaded with clues. The entire time Hvitserk is talking to Aud from the screen door, Ivar stays out of sight. Not only is he feeding lines to Hvitserk and helping him not to be so awkward, but Aud has no idea that Ivar is even there. She thinks she’s only dealing with one brother. Hvitserk is trying his hand at getting his confidence – Ivar says that Hvitserk needed a win and he needed a confidence booster that’s why he helped him talk to her. Even when Bishop Heahmund came around, he talked about Ivar, but no one ever saw Ivar. Even when Hvitserk invited them out, he said Ivar would come, but they’ve never met him. They don’t know if he would show.

Chapter 11

Bishop and Aud were able to be subdued by being drugged. Hvitserk said that people usually talk to Ivar, but the two of them were talking to him. When they got up to dance, they had their drinks spiked and that’s how they became victims. They wake up and Aud is chained to the fireplace and Bishop is being led around by a dog collar. Hvitserk wakes up because he doesn’t like how things went down, so he checked out, but Ivar was there to take over. Ivar coaches Hvitserk along with how he wants to see him punished. Then Ivar gets to be as sadistic as he wants and kills Bishop. Then Hvitserk gets to be gentle with Aud’s corpse. Again, showing the difference between the two. But, again, the two of them never hurt the couple at the same time and relied on very different styles of torture.

Chapter 12

Hvitserk has the illusion that he can leave everything behind and marry Thora. But, he admits that he doesn’t know what love feels like. He only knows it in relationship to Ivar. While he should be thinking about Thora and their future, he’s thinking about Ivar and how he fits into it all. Then he slips into how he would like a house in the country where there are no people around, so he can party as much as he wants (the same kind of secluded house he rents at the end), right before he thinks about how fast he can snatch up the hostess.

Chapter 13

The state of the house is a metaphor for the state of Hvitserk’s mind. There are dishes in the sink and the house isn’t tidy. That’s not like Ivar, who is a neat freak. Hvitserk is afraid to talk to Ivar because he’s scared of his reaction and all these different fears and insecurities – that’s what the house looks like. But, true to form, Ivar handles it with ease. He looks disappointed but gently tells him, he doesn't want this. The violence within Ivar in direct opposition to the gentleness he shows Hvitserk – even when he’s unhappy with him.

Chapter 14

This chapter is what it is. Hvitserk is losing his damn mind. He’s suffering because he hasn’t gone out, Ivar’s not talking to him, he feels alone and he thinks he’s doing what’s best for him. But his true nature is in the basement in a case, just waiting for him. Oh, what to do? Take the woman in the cage, or say no? Decisions, decisions…

Chapter 15

Hvitserk doesn’t have the willpower he thinks he has. He’s blaming Ivar for torturing him because his rival is the one in the cage. He breaks down like a little kid, and Ivar sits beside him and wipes his tears like he just scraped his knee. He tells him it’s okay and he understands. He even asks, how he can make it easier for him – take her to your room, or set up the cot in the basement? The tug of war over Hvitserk’s life between him and Ivar is the same war that Hvitserk is constantly having within himself.

Ultimately he gives in and gets mad when she doesn’t fight back. He resents the fact that Ivar is making jokes and seems to be enjoying watching him break all of his promises. It’s not until later that he decides that Ivar is the bad influence and tells him that he’s leaving does he realize that Ivar isn’t going to let him go.

Chapter 16

This chapter is full of clues.

Somewhere along the night, Hvitserk kills Judith. When he wakes up he’s looking for Ivar to make it all better. But, when he comes upstairs he notices the door locked and can hear Thora’s voice. Thora is not alive when she’s with them both, at the same time. When Hvitserk talks to Ivar through the door, notice how she only replies to Hvitserk. She says things like, “You’re scaring me.” “Why are letting this happen.” “Open the door.”

When Ivar finally opens the door he’s covered in blood. Hvitserk rushes to her and covers her body with his own. He uses his shirt to try to wipe the blood from where her face once was. When the police come, he says he’s covered in blood. There’s blood on his cheek from where Ivar smeared it there. His hair is matted to his head with sweat and tears. There’s blood all over him. He looks like Ivar did, covered in her blood…

Chapter 17

This chapter goes into their background. You find out about the sexual abuse suffered by all the kids at the hands of Bjorn, Ragnar, and Rollo. I assume Bjorn was probably abused, too. This is always when you learn that Hvitserk raped Guthrum and killed Ubbe when he was a kid. You learn about his sexual misdirection and how he was pretty much taught that if you want sex, you take it. You also realize that he lied about saying that he had this great childhood full of love. It’s not until he’s given the truth serum does he talk about the painful memories.

Ivar shows up, outside the glass doors, when Hvitserk is at an incredibly vulnerable point. He’s on the floor, being held down feeling all this shit from his past and he’s in pain. All he wants is Lagertha to let him see his brother but she keeps denying him and feeding him drugs. But, when he needs him the most, he catches a glimpse of him. He’s not far away, but he’s just not quite able to get to him. The least he could do is warn them that Ivar doesn’t like it when Hvitserk is unhappy.

Chapter 18

So this wasn’t part of the original story. I had to try to work it into it, and I hope I didn’t make it worse by doing so. But, folks were asking for some Ivar POV so there it goes.

This was Ivar coming into the facility to take care of a broken down Hvitserk. He had to tell him what to do to stop taking their pills, and how to get himself right so he can get out of there. The story recapping how Aslaug died was important because it shows what Ivar resents about Hvitserk, killing their mother, but the fall out of the accident. They both went through the windshield, and both were half dead. Their mom said to always take care of each other. That’s something that Ivar remembers.

He also remembers killing Sigurd. He did it to protect Hvitserk. That was the first time he protected his older brother and that’s when he reminds him that their job is to protect each other.

Ivar is only around Hvitserk when no one else is around. He’s telling Hvitserk stories about things that happened when they were little, things that Hvitserk may be able to corroborate, but he’s high on the meds from the hospital, so anything is possible. Ivar is reminding him that he’s strong, too and he protects him the same way Hvitserk tried to protect him (Ivar) when he was young – even if it’s what killed their mom. It’s what Hvitserk needs to hear because he needs to get himself together to get out of that place.

Chapter 19

This is another chapter that wasn’t part of the original story.

The key here is in Lagertha’s reaction to meeting Ivar. She’s nervous around him and afraid to upset him. She says things like, she feels like she knows him. She asks him questions like was he at the trial – things like that.

She tries in every way possible to gently tell him that Hvitserk is getting strong on his own and doesn’t need him to protect him anymore. That he’s made so much progress. Having Ivar around would set him back. She even had Hvitserk write a letter to Ivar saying that he needed to try to make it on his own, without his help.

Ivar is annoyed by Lagertha because of the hold she has on Hvitserk. But as usual, no one has ever seen the two of them together.

Chapter 20

It all comes out here. Hvitserk feels abandoned by Ivar, but he misses him. I alluded to him stockpiling his pills and using them to drug guards, doctors, and everyone else to do whatever he wanted. Eventually, breaking out of the facility. That’s why he’s back at the cabin now.

He’s found himself another, young, naïve girlfriend who doesn’t know any better, and a house in the country – far away from everything. The only thing he needs now is Ivar. Of course, he’s not taking his meds anymore, so he’s starting to get little itches of his urges back.

Then like magic, Ivar appears. They have it out. Of course, Hvitserk is stronger now and he can say how he feels without the fear of Ivar’s reaction which makes Ivar proud. That’s all he ever wanted was his brother to fully accept who he was. But Hvitserk still doesn’t like how he went about it. He makes Ivar read the file, that diagnoses him will all kinds of disorders, including Dissociative  Disorder (Multiple Personality Disorder). He tells Ivar that they tortured him into believing he is crazy. That he made him up because he supposedly died when Aslaug did.

Think back – Hvitserk made up having a happy, loving childhood. He made up having a relationship with Ubbe. He made up the fact that Ivar didn’t die in the car accident. The guilt of having his brother and mother die in a crash that was “his fault” because he told his mother what was happening and she tried to protect him (only Ivar - she never tried to protect any of the other boys) was too much for him. He did the only thing he could - his young mind fractured and protected his brother, forever

No one ever saw the two of them together. All the times Hvitserk passed out, the Ivar personality took over, because he’s the stronger, dominant personality and was the protector. He was always there whenever Hvitserk needed him, no matter the time of day or night. He was Hvitserk’s polar opposite – smooth, charming, handsome, able to lure people in with just his smile. He was everything that Hvitserk was too self-conscious to truly be. He was the side of Hvitserk’s consciousness that was constantly fighting within himself about giving up their life of murder. He was the side that wanted to take more risks, make the kills bigger and better. 

HVITSERK is a truly sadistic person and to know that both sides are in him, makes him an apex predator. The fact that he had years of therapy means nothing. Especially, when Ivar says if you let me back in, I will never leave again. Hvitserk just shrugs and leaves the door open for Ivar to come in if he wants.

Then he goes over and sits and asks Lagertha what he should do. He’s already got her tied up and waiting…he’s back at it again. But now, he’s complete with his other half.

Though it seemed the other way around, Hvitserk truly ended up being, his brother’s keeper.

@youbloodymadgenius​​ @idea-garden​​ @kol--mikaelson​@mooniemouse​ @didiintheblog​​ @waiting4inspiration​​ @tempt-ress​ @where-beauty-goes-to-die​ @crazyaboutmotleycrue​ @oddsnendsfanfics​​ @geekandbooknerd​​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @honestsycrets​ @xbellaxcarolinax

[stahlop]

Making a Memory (3/?)

Once again, a big thanks to my betas @profdanglaisstuff and @thisonesatellite. This chapter was a bitch to write.

And thanks again to @gingerchangeling for her amazing artwork above!

Chapter 1 2

Ao3

The next two days felt like torture for both Hope and Alice. They had been told by the directors that they were lucky to be allowed to go into town and that they’d better behave themselves as they were representing the camp, to which Hope and Alice solemnly nodded. Henry had sent a text through Lori’s phone (another extra dollar to deliver the message) to meet at a coffee house in town at 11:00 to which Hope replied that she and Alice would be there (another dollar to text back).

 Hope had told Alice that Henry had confirmed they were sisters but nothing else, citing that this wasn’t something he could tell them over the phone. 

 “Maybe they both got amnesia and only remembered the last relationship they’d been in and that’s why they think our other parent is different?” Alice had suggested. Hope had thought that could be a possibility but then…

 “But what about the fire? Or is that where the amnesia came from?” 

 “Could be?” Alice said. “Maybe they both got amnesia from the fire and forgot the other and we just went with whichever one saved us.”

 “But that doesn’t explain Henry.” Hope said, which was also the fly in the ointment to every theory they came up with. Henry was the outlier. The only thing that didn’t make sense. As far as Hope knew, she and Henry both had the same father and Henry had never said anything different. Why would he lie to her for so many years about having a sister and potentially a different father?

 “I definitely think their memories have been altered or erased in some way.” Alice said. “My gut usually tells me if a person is lying, and Papa hasn’t lied to me once about thinking Milah was my Mama.” She frowned at the prospect that her gut could have been wrong about her Papa all these years.

 “Is it always right?” Hope asked. “I mean, you told me that it seemed to hate me on sight when we first got here, but it’s calmed down now, right?” Alice nodded. “Wait! Did you say it mainly tells you if someone is lying or not?” Hope asked, realizing what else Alice had said. Alice nodded. “My mom has that same thing. She can tell when someone is lying. I’ve always chalked it up to being able to read people well, but maybe it’s something you’ve inherited from her!” Hope got really excited about that prospect. Another piece of the puzzle being put together.

 “What was it like growing up with a brother?” Alice asked, changing the subject. Her whole world had been turned upside down and hearing about things she may have inherited from a mother she never knew existed still felt a little weird.

 “It…” Hope paused looking for the right words to describe it. “It was different. He’s 15 years older than me so we weren’t close. I mean, we were close, but not the close that two siblings would have if they were only a few years apart. I know he tried to help out mom with me as best he could. He lived at home during college when he could have lived at the dorms, and he lived at home until I was around 10 before mom kicked him out. He only lives a few blocks from us and he’s been real busy with the book writing lately. But he always makes time for me when I need to get away from mom for a little bit. In fact, he paid for me to go to camp this summer because I’ve wanted to go for forever.”

 There was a bit of silence after that. Neither one knowing what to talk about next. They’d exhausted their theories and both of them were a little leery about learning about the other one’s parent without finding out why they’d been separated and potentially lied to for their whole lives.

 Hope spent the next day reading through Henry’s novel, as if it might hold potential clues for her, even though it was a work of fiction. Alice spent them drawing pictures of various things, everything from characters in the book to things that had happened around camp. Hope was a little jealous at how good Alice was. 

 Finally, the day to go into town arrived. Alice and Hope had woken up early and were the first ones on the bus. They’d be getting into town around 10:00 so they’d have a little time to shop around before meeting Henry. They were both so antsy the entire trip there. As they got off the bus, Mrs. Hatfield remarked about how well they were getting along with a knowing look. If she only knew her initial assumption of them being sisters had been spot on, and that was the reason they were getting along, not because of the stupid Get Along Cabin.

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 Henry had not been all together surprised when he had received the phone call from Hope. He had been expecting it after all, just not so early. He’d thought he’d have another 4 weeks, once camp had ended to figure out how to explain the situation they had all found themselves in. It wasn’t every day, after all, that one meets their long lost twin sister that they never even knew existed (although Disney would have people believing it, but they messed up most of their retellings of fairy tales, why would this be any different). But here he was, with only two days to figure out what he was going to tell his sisters, one of whom he hadn’t seen since she was two.

 He knew the situation was a mess.  It had been a mess since the twins were born. It wasn’t as if any of them had wanted this situation to happen, but it had and they’d been living with it for the past, almost twelve years. Well, Henry had, anyway, it wasn’t as if anyone else involved in this knew what the hell was going on besides him.

 The whole situation was bittersweet. He had checked up on Killian and Alice over the years, not that they knew that. He’d been discreet. Just happening to be in the same park as them even though it was nowhere near where he lived; jogging near Alice’s school as she grew up to be able to see her during recess. It had pained him to see her playing by herself in a trove of trees near the back of the playground away from everyone else. As she got older, she had the drawing pad, and he was happy that she had something she enjoyed doing. Henry had even gone to a few of her art shows and seen just how much like Killian she was in the drawing department.

 It was a lot harder to check up on Killian, as he worked at the docks and it wasn’t like Henry could just hang around the docks for no reason. He’d thought about getting a job there when he was old enough, but his mother would’ve thrown a fit. She would have given him a talking to about wasting the scholarship money he’d been given for his fancy Creative Writing Bachelors to go work, what she would have considered, a dead-end job at the docks. He had to make it part of his morning run, except that when Killian moved into management, he couldn’t get a look at him at all.

 Deciding to go into Creative Writing in college was a no-brainer. He knew he needed to get his story out, but he needed to do it in sections. Become one of those writers that had a book series instead of just one book. He wouldn’t have been able to get everything into one book as it was. The problem that he hadn’t anticipated was that no one wanted to publish it. He thought the alternative fairy tale genre would have still been a big seller, but it seemed that book publishers were more into dystopian societies again (a resurgence from when he had been a kid). It had taken him a lot longer to get Once Upon a Time out to the masses than he’d intended. The sequel would just barely be released before Hope and Alice’s fourteenth birthday and that was cutting it really close for what needed to happen.

 Henry had done the best he could in helping his mother raise Hope. He knew it was not the life she had imagined when she’d found herself pregnant. He still remembered with distinct clarity when she’d come rushing out of the bathroom waving around the pregnancy test. Explaining to Killian what the two lines meant, and then forcing Henry to go buy her a digital test just to make sure the cheap ones she’d bought over the internet weren’t faulty.  They’d been so excited to start their family together. And when they found out they were having twins, well Killian had practically spun Emma around in excitement (a little hard because they didn’t find out about the twins part until she was almost five months along and she was already huge. Alice had apparently been shy even in the womb as she was hiding behind Hope in the ultrasounds; their heartbeats always perfectly in sync with each other). And then...everything happened.

 Maybe it would be better if Henry tried to write what he wanted to say down. He’d always done better with an outline, a plan, an operation. Operation Gemini was on!

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 The girls were already waiting at a table in the coffee shop when Henry arrived; three hot chocolates set at each place, all with whipped cream and cinnamon Henry noticed. As soon as Hope noticed him, she immediately stood up and ran to give him a fierce hug. 

 They stood there, hugging at the entrance, for what seemed a long while. Had it really only been two weeks since she’d gone off to camp? It felt almost like a lifetime. Even though Henry had moved out of the apartment, he still came by to see his mom and Hope every day. It was just the kind of family they had. Very close. 

 Henry had moved them off to the side so as to not block the entranceway, and he felt Hope shuddering in his arms. She was silently crying Henry realized as he stroked soothing circles on her back, something that always calmed her down as a little girl. He looked over to the table and noticed Alice sitting at the table waiting for her world to drastically change and all she looked like she was feeling awkward while she waited for them to finish their emotional reunion.

 “I don’t even know why I’m crying.” Hope wailed softly. “I just have so many questions and emotions from discovering that I have a sister, and it has finally hit me now that you’re here, Henry.” He was making this all real. And no matter the answer, no matter what he told her, Hope and Alice had to keep an open mind, because Henry knew the reality of this situation was going to change things forever.

 “It’s okay, Hope.” Henry whispered into her hair, something else he’d always done when she was younger. “I promise, everything is going to be okay.” He kissed the top of her head for reassurance. Hope seemed to snap out of it, and she broke away from Henry and dried her eyes on the back of her hands. Henry pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and gave it to her.

 “Always a gentleman.” Hope said as they walked over to the table. Alice, who had watched the whole exchange, looked at Henry with wide eyes. Henry wasn’t sure how either of them were going to handle what he was about to tell them, but Alice, despite the wide eyes, seemed overly calm about the whole situation. 

 “It’s nice to meet you, Henry.” Alice said, putting her hand out for him to shake it as he sat down at the table. Henry could tell she wasn’t quite sure what else to say. He could only imagine how she must feel, having grown up an only child and now she supposedly had a twin sister and an older brother.

 “We’ve met before.” Henry said sadly, taking a good look at her while he and Hope took their seats. It was like looking at a punk rock version of Hope and it was a little strange. “But I haven’t seen you since you were two and mom and Killian were still dressing you in matching outfits.” He laughed, remembering how their mother, of all people, liked dressing them the same and Killian absolutely hated it. They’re individuals, Swan, not dress up dolls! Everyone nervously took a sip of their hot chocolate.

 “Can we just cut to the chase.” Hope said. Henry chuckled at how much like their mother she was. Besides looking like her, just with a fuller face that he chalked up to still being a child, she had inherited her personality, and was always straight down to business. No pleasantries, no small talk, just get straight to the point.

 Operation Gemini hadn’t made it much past the notes phase when Henry tried to figure out how to explain things to them. Giving a speech was not the way to go. This wasn’t a book that he could plot out an outline and hope that everything went the way he wanted it to (at least not yet). And he knew these two girls were much too smart to not ask questions about everything he presented to them. He needed to know what they knew or had hypothesized for themselves before figuring out what and how to tell them about their pasts.

 Alice,” Henry said turning to her, “tell me what you’ve been told about your mother.” 

 “Uh,” Alice had not expected to be put on the spot, “her name was Milah.” Henry nodded in agreement, since he already knew that was who she thought was her mother. “She and Papa were together for about five years before they got married and had me. I’m named for my Papa’s mother. She died in an apartment fire when I was two which is also how Papa lost his hand. We…” Alice’s voice drifted off when Henry took out a notebook and started writing everything she told him down. He wrote at a very alarming rate, and it would look as if the words were magically appearing on the page, or at least, it would look like that to Alice, if she believed. 

 ‘H..how are you doing that?” Alice asked, fascinated. The pen he was using looked like an old fountain pen, the kind that required ink. Alice looked around but she saw no ink. He saw her look closer at the notebook which was an old, leather bound notebook with parchment inside. Henry held his breath. Could she see? Henry looked at Hope who was looking at Henry intently the same way Alice was, but he could tell that all Hope saw was a normal pen and notebook.

 Henry looked up at Alice with a quizzical look on his face. “How am I doing what, Alice? What exactly do you see?” From his tone, he hoped that Alice could see he truly wanted an honest answer. She looked hesitant for a moment, took another gulp of her hot chocolate, but then drew a deep breath before telling him exactly what she saw.

 “You have an old fashioned fountain pen, but it seems to not need any ink. And it’s putting the words on the parchment for you.” Alice gulped. Henry knew that what she had said would sound crazy to anyone else, but not to him. She looked over at Hope who was looking between Alice and the pen and notebook. She definitely was looking at Alice as if she just said the craziest thing ever. A wide smile crept over Henry’s face and tears sprang to his eyes. He wanted, more than ever, to just wrap Alice up in his arms like he had when she was a baby, and give her the biggest hug imaginable. He put the fountain pen and notebook aside.

 “Alice,” Henry said as he took both her hands into his, “I need to ask you something, and please answer honestly. No false modesty for my sake, please.” Alice nodded. “Now, I know Hope hasn’t read my book because she says it’s not her style,” Hope rolled her eyes at this statement, crossed her arms and mumbled “I've read some of it,” Henry gave a small laugh at that and focused back on Alice, “but have you read it?” Alice nodded, unsure of where Henry was going with this. “And tell me, my dear Alice, what did you think of it?” He continued.

 Henry watched Alice closely as she tried to figure out where to begin.  

 “It felt like I was reading about people I’d imagined my whole life. Like they’d been living in my head with no way out and then, bam! There they were on the page in front of me. And then I started drawing. Oh, I’d drawn mostly landscapes, places that were right in front of me, but I’d had these images in my head for so long of people, that about a year before your book came out, I’d started drawing them as well. And then there they were in your book. I have sketches of Snow White and Red from before your book even hit the shelves, and at first it scared me, because Papa has always said I might be psychic, just knowing little things here and there, but there it was for me to see. These people who I’d been imaging. I’d never known their story, and here it was laid out for me in the pages of your book.” She took her hands away from Henry’s and put them in her lap as a few tears, Henry couldn’t tell if they were happy or scared tears, slipped down her cheeks. Henry was still staring at her intently, his smile even wider if that were possible. He watched her put her one of her hands under her hair and rub the back of her neck, just like Killian always did.

 “Why did you ask her that?” Hope asked breaking the silence that had enveloped them after Alice had finished her revelation. Alice almost looked embarrassed about Hope asking. She’d just bared her soul about all the thoughts that had been in her head, probably for years, and how Henry’s book had opened the floodgates, and Hope’s only response had been to ask why Henry had asked that particular question? Of course Hope would be the non-believer. Like mother, like daughter.

 “That’s actually a very good question, Hope.” Henry said, his smile never fading. He beamed something that he hoped conveyed pride at Alice before looking over at his sister. 

 “I was going to start out telling you something different. I went over this in so many different ways the past two days, but I think I’m going to have to start with the storybook.” Henry said as he went to grab something out of his satchel. Hope rolled her eyes and scoffed.

 “Henry, you cannot tell us we are sisters and then just go off about your fairy tale book. I get that she’s a fan, but there are more important things going on here besides your book.” Hope said, exasperated. Henry paid her no mind. He placed two books on the table. One was a much bigger, much older looking copy of his book, made from what looked like real leather and gold leaf. Like something the publisher might sell as a collector’s edition. The other looked like his current book, only it was white with a picture of an apple tree on it in a golden frame. It also said Once Upon a Time, but not as ornately as the last book. The O was in red while the rest of the letters were in brown. Underneath the title read the words: Emma’s Story.

 “Is...is that the new book?” Alice squeaked out. Henry’s smile grew even wider if that was possible.

 “It sure is, Alice.” He said quite happily. “And, actually, Hope, these books will tell you everything you need to know about your past.” Both Hope and Alice looked at him. Hope’s expression was one of disbelief. She’d always held their mother’s belief in the practical, everything had a logical explanation, even if lightbulbs tended to pop when one of them were angry, or they’d find random candles lit without any explanation for it when they really needed to relax. Alice’s eyebrows were practically in her hairline for how high she had raised them. Henry could see that she was more open to what he was trying to tell her.

 “They’re all true?” Was all that Alice could get out.

 “Yes, Alice,” Henry nodded, “they’re all true.” Alice smiled with tears starting to form in her eyes. 

 Hope looked from Henry to Alice completely confused. He could see she was trying to comprehend what he was trying to tell her, that the fairy tales he had written about were supposed to be real, but her brain did not compute that. Fairy tales weren’t real. They lived in the real world and magical things simply did not happen. And now Hope was getting angry, because Henry still hadn’t provided any explanation to how she and Alice had become separated and why they had been told lies their whole lives about who their parents were.

 Henry sighed. “Look,” he said, running his fingers through his hair nervously, “this book here,” he pulled out the larger copy of his book and placed it on the center of the table, careful not to knock over any of their half drunk mugs, “is not just some fiction I made up.” He couldn’t believe he was in this situation where he had to explain this all over again. “Every story in this book actually happened. It’s the story of our grandparents and what they went through to eventually end up in this world.” Alice took in a breath of air while Hope looked at Henry like he was insane.

 “Henry,” Hope started, “fairy tales aren’t real. What you’re saying is ludicrous, and you’re beginning to really scare me.”

 “So, the Emma at the end of the book,” Alice said in barely a whisper, “she’s your mom? She’s actually the real daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and the savior destined to break the Evil Queen’s curse?” Henry knew it was a lot to take in, he knew it sounded insane, but he could also see that Alice believed every word that Henry was telling her. Hope just stared at both of them with a look that said she felt like she was the only sane person at their table. 

 “She did break the curse!” he said excitedly. “That’s what’s in this book. How our mother broke the curse and the various things that happened afterwards until she came to the Final Battle. And then….” Henry took a breath trying to stave off the catch that was starting to form in his throat. “We were separated. That’s how this book ends. With our separation.” He grabbed the almost empty mug in front of him and drained the last dregs of hot cocoa that were in there, grimacing at the grainy texture of the chocolate that had coagulated at the bottom. When he looked back at his sisters (he had never been so happy to add that extra ‘s’) he could see that Alice was thoroughly convinced that he spoke the truth, but Hope was still looking at him with a mix of incredulousness and a slight hint of murder. He could see her wanting to object again but cut her off when he continued with what he had to say. 

 “The final book. The final book of my series has not been written. I have no idea how it will end. Both of you need to help me write it because it’s about us, all of us. You two, me, mom, and Killian. It’s about what happened to us and a terrible danger that we will have to face.” Hope’s face immediately tensed at the word danger; Alice’s face lit up intrigued. He continued. “It won’t be easy. I am putting us all in jeopardy, but I don’t have a choice. This is something that we’ve known about since you two were born and I’m the one who has had to carry the burden of it for the past almost 12 years.” Tears were falling from his eyes and Alice handed him a napkin as Hope had never given him back his handkerchief from earlier. Alice also had tears falling as she had listened to what he had told him. Hope just looked frustrated.

 “Henry,” Hope said, breaking in again, “are we ever going to get any answers, or are you just going to parade your books around to Alice and let her fangirl over them. We’ve been here,” she checked her watch,” for an hour and you’ve given us nothing but fairy tales. Not even that, you’ve just given us the books to decipher an answer out of! We have to meet back on the bus to camp in an hour. Are you going to be able to tell us everything we need to know by then?” She gave Henry the look, the look he’d seen too many times on his mother that showed that he wasn’t telling her the whole truth and she was getting tired of it. If she’d been standing, Henry was sure she’d be stomping her foot like the tantrums she used to throw when she was younger.

 Henry thought for a minute. There was no way he could tell them everything he needed to in an hour. Hell, would they even be able to function at camp after everything he needed to tell them? Would they even believe him? Alice definitely seemed open to it, but Hope, she was so stubborn. It was like trying to convince their mother all over again. And that’s when he made the decision.

 “Look, Alice, do you trust me?” He asked, holding out his hand to her. She didn’t even hesitate, she took his hand and answered yes. “Hope, Alice, you are sisters. I am your half brother. Emma and Killian love each other very much, they just don’t remember, and I need your help to bring our family back together. But to do that, you’re going to have to leave camp and come with me. Can you do that?” 

 Alice nodded with no hesitation. Henry probably should have been a little more concerned that Alice seemed so willing to leave camp and go off with a perfect stranger who had just told her that he was her brother with no other explanation except that fairy tales were real and she needed to somehow get their family back together, a family that didn’t even know they were broken, but he saw the belief in her eyes and the trust she had toward him and Hope, and he looked past that concern. Besides, he was her brother, just because she didn’t remember him didn’t mean they weren’t blood. Both he and Alice looked over at Hope who was still looking at them like they were the craziest people she had ever met. Henry was about to apologize for ruining her camp experience when she finally spoke.

 “Well, I guess you two don’t really leave me a choice. I gotta make sure you crazy, and yes, I mean the literal meaning of crazy, people don’t get into too much trouble. Someone has to make sure that when mom and Alice’s dad, ...our dad, whoever he is, find us that we have a sane person to explain we went willingly and Henry doesn’t get arrested for kidnapping or whatever.” Hope flipped her ponytail behind her shoulder as if she didn’t really care either way if they got in trouble or not, but Henry knew better. He knew she was coming along on this crazy ride to make sure Henry didn’t do something stupid and to be there for Alice.

 Henry held out his hand for Hope since he was still holding Alice’s from earlier. She hesitated only a moment before grabbing it. Alice and Hope both gave a slight jolt, something most people would not have noticed or thought they had just had a shiver run through them at the same time, but Henry knew, he knew that was the sign that everything was starting. It was the sign that their family was coming back together.

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @cssns @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx  @qualitycoffeethings​

[rirah1writes]

Chapter two

Patience and Penitence.

A/N: Chapter two. I’m actually loving the plot behind this series and I hope I can stay as true to the comics as possible. I hope everyone reading enjoys. P.s. Don't be afraid to message me with suggestions or requests for the next chapter. Much loveee!

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff (Smut {*Very Soon*} in future chapters) 

Summary: Tony and peter draw some conclusions,  y/n is very clumsy and also very late to class, and Peter decides its time to face up and make an appearance. 

Read Chapter One here

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Penitence; (noun): The action of feeling or showing sorrow and regret for having done wrong; Repentance. 

“Were fucked how...wait why?” Peter breathed in deeply and ran his hands through his curls. He thought back to you when you would ask him questions about your physics assignments and how patient he would try to be to help you understand. 

Be patient.

“These...beings...are using us as hosts. Think about this like...an organ transplant or a blood transfusion.” Peter was stumbling over his words, trying to make sense of it himself when really, he had a feeling they had only just scratched the surface. “If it's not the right type, then it won’t work, yeah?” Tony nodded. “I get it, kid, I’m a mechanic not a dumbass, these aliens aren't compatible with the people they're trying to feed off of, so, therefore...they die.” Peter breathed out. “Exactly.” his eyes began lulling back, exhaustion was just now hitting him, despite the intriguing discovery they were making. 

“So the one that attacked you...Didn’t deem you a suitable host?” Tony looked at peter up and back down. “Not to be weird, but I find that hard to believe.” Peter furrowed his brow and chuckled softly. “Meaning?” he grumbled out as he leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. “Think about it, you regenerate and recover thrice the normal rate of any human, I’ve seen you stop a bus with your bare hands, lift an airplane terminal, and hold together a ferry that was split in half. So if I was a symbiote...I’d, ya know...get up in that.” Peter laughed and his head fell in his hands as he tried to ponder what had happened.

San Francisco wouldn't be so bad for a week. y/n was stressed out anyways from finals and Fury had said he needed help with some intel they had gathered about the Life Foundation, harboring foreign lifeforms, and they needed to be confiscated from the “Rather stubborn” CEO, Dr. Carlton Drake. “Nothing some goddamn force can’t fix. Besides, your Ironman and Spider boy, and I'm Nick-fuckin’-Fury what can go wrong?” Peter grumbled under his breath “It’s spider- MAN” and Tony shot him a warning look as they neared the highway gate.  

Getting through to the front entrance was easy enough, (Nick was very convincing) and up to the labs was a treat until push came to shove and Dr. Drake refused, as Peter expected he would, to give up his “Life's work” The next thing he knew, guns were being fired, webs were being shot, one blast from Tony’s suit, and three symbiotes had escaped. 

Peter couldn't remember much of how it happened, only that he felt as if his skin was meshing, bonding with something unnatural. Next came a burning heat and impending hunger, an unfillable void. Tony was quick to get him to their jet a mile away, but as the engines revved up, a searing pain shot through his entire being, and then moments later...a a sweet release, no more pain. 

“Tony, you know, I don't think they like loud noise...You’re right. The symbiote did want to get inside of me.” Stark shifted and gave peter a disapproving look. “No, all jokes aside, I would have made a more than suitable host, but the noise from the engines drove it out, its like...harmful to them.” Tony nodded slowly. “Makes plenty of sense kid, but listen if I don't sleep soon I’m sure ill literally die.” Peter nodded, studying his mentor and longtime friend. His eyes were glassy, his hands looked worn from many years of work and tinkering, and his face was hollow looking from a lack of sleep. “Yeah, Mr. Stark. You look like shit.” Tony’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Ugh... ‘Mr. Stark’? You haven't called me that since you were fifteen. Don't say that ever again.” They both laughed and then slowly fell into silence, both mulling over their thoughts. 

“And will you be crashing here for a couple of hours, or sleeping on the rooftop of the abandoned building across Fifth Avenue?” Peter was yanked back to reality by the shock of his question, he stared blankly at Tony. “I know you sleep there every night, kiddo. But if you would just go and talk to her you wouldn't have to.” Peter thought seriously about these words. “Nah...It’s not safe yet, I don't know if that thing is coming back for me, I don't want to put her in danger. The time will come.” He rocked his head back, thinking of you, safe in your bed, curled up without him. “When exactly is that Pete? After she’s found another man?” Peter mulled over those words. 

When she’s found another man...Maybe she’s safe in her bed in another mans arms...

But why wouldn't she move on? y/n was a beautiful woman, and every day that passed was a day Peter was teaching her to live without him. He closed his eyes because he felt tears begin to well up, the hurt and guilt ate away at him, but he couldn't let Tony see this, he already knew, he didn't need to see it as well. Tony stood up patting a hand on his shoulder. “You should go talk to May. Your strangely fine aunt might have some good advice.” Peter stood up and followed Tony into the foyer. The sun was peeking into the sky now and casting hues of beautiful mandarin, crimson red, and pink. “Oh what you talk to Aunt May now?” Peter joked. “Have been for a while” Tony turned around and winked. “Just kidding, but really go see your aunt. She used to talk to y/n all the time when you first moved to San Fran, now that you’re back she’ll be glad to see you...she’ll have a lot to fill you in on.”

Peter was confused as Tony spoke in riddles but he paid it no mind, he was too tired to care about anything except sleeping. Pulling his suit back on, he heard Tony holler over his shoulders “Night, kid.” This was amusing considering the early hour, but Peter and Tony didn't seem to have a set schedule for sleep these days. He swung out over the terrace and weaved between the buildings until he neared their familiar old apartment, the same one May swore shed never leave, not unless she got married. Peter climbed up the brick, and slipped into his old bedroom, scowling silently about the window being unlocked, but he decided not to fuss, May was expecting him. Slipping out of his suit and into his bed, Peter let himself rest for the first time in months, his thoughts drifting to you. 

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The smell of bacon stirred peter from his sleep. He was sure he had dreamt of you. Soft remnants, a silky kiss you had placed over his lips, whispering something he wasn't able to remember. Sweet nothings. He pushed his eyes open fully now, fingers tracing his lips, they were hot and swollen, as if yours had actually been there. Looking at the clock next to him he realized he had slept an entire day, all the way into the next morning. Slowly stretching out of bed he gazed over at his dresser and saw a framed picture you had got for him one year on his birthday. A keen smile spread across his lips as he studied how wide your grin had been, and how genuine your laugh was, so genuine that your cute nose scrunched up and your eyes were closed tight. 

I want to see you laugh like that again...

“Peter, are you awake?” He was jarred from his memories of you, walking over and pulling the bedroom door, he saw may looming in the kitchen in her oversized tee, and biker shorts, her hair was thrown back into a bun, and she was squelching and giggling as the grease popped at her. “Turn the heat down a little, May.” She whipped around and grinned wildly at him. “Peter, just look at you!” She carried on as she threw her arms around him, bantering about how much she’d missed him and why he didn't call more. Peter took his seat at the table, running his hands through his untamed curls. “I would have been back sooner, but I had to make sure it was safe.” May nodded understandingly, she knew all about what was going on, everything that had happened. “And how is y/n?” her tone became soft, peter knew this was because she already knew the answer: Not good. 

“I don't know may...I haven't actually talked to her yet.” She curled her lip as she shook her head disapprovingly. “I raised you better than that...Sitting out on that damn abandoned building day and night, but you won’t go talk to her, let her know you’re alive and okay...it’s cruel Peter.” Her words were like daggers to him, piercing his heart, even though he knew they were marred with love and care. “How do you know I sit out there every day and night huh?” He questioned her, apparently she and Tony had been talking. “Happy told me.” Her answer was simple and it made Peter raise an eyebrow at her. “Oh did he now?” A childlike grin came over his face, as may shood him off. “Oh, that's none of your business. And in any case, stop changing the subject, you need to go see her Peter, it's not fair.” He shook his head. “Not yet May, it's not safe...” Peter was shocked when she threw the pan down into the sink with a loud thud and whipped around at him.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, you’re starting to sound like you dad. If it wasn't safe you wouldn't be here right now.” All that Peter could do was stare in shock. It had been such a long time since she had raised her voice at him. “You left her in the middle of the night, giving her a one-sentenced note. No texts, no calls, nothing to show for four years with that girl. She was over here every night for the longest time crying and wondering where you went, and I had to lie to her for you.” Peter’s heart fell at the image of you sitting at May’s kitchen table, crying as she rubbed your back and poured you tea. May was a true caregiver at heart. “Now its time for you to go tell her the truth. Forget your secret identity, forget the symbiotes. And just tell her the truth, Peter.” He knew she only told him for his own good, but he didn't even know how to begin to tell you the truth. “I don't know how to do it May! I can't just waltz up to her and say ‘Hey I’m Spiderman, yeah I lied to you about that for four years, oh also I ran away for a year because I had an alien lifeform trying to possess me and kill everyone.’ I mean, that just doesn’t work.” 

May shot him a look, but he could tell she was attempting to be understanding. “Alright, Peter do what you think is best.” Peter sighed relief. He did plan on telling you, just in a way he knew you could process it. “But, don't come crying when she finally moves on. Better for her to know the truth than think you just don't give a damn, so she finds another man...MJ tells me a boy from her Criminology class really has the hots for her his name is Justin, James...? Something like that...rumor has it he’s not bad looking either.” Peter knew May was doing this on purpose, but all the same, he felt his face grew hot, he turned to get up and go shower. “Where you going, Pete?” She called out after him as he stormed out of the kitchen. “To take a shower and look presentable, if I’m going to talk to y/n I’m not going looking like this.” May smiled slyly to herself as he continued to grumble and slammed shut the bathroom door. He had always wondered if you had moved on and found another man, but hearing a name made everything real, and Peter would be damned if another man would be cozying up to his princess at night. All he could do is explain everything to you, lay all the truth out on the table, and hope you would forgive him. I need her forgiveness, but even more, I need to express my remorse. 

Peter thought back to all the nights he laid alone in bed, tangled in cold sheets, missing you. Guilt shot from his chest and left a knot in his throat as he pondered how you must have felt in the same condition, not knowing or understanding a thing about why he had vanished. He let the steaming water pour over his skin as his thoughts raced, one lone word recurring in his mind.

Penitence. 

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“Shit” You cursed under your breath as you tripped over absolutely nothing and sloshed coffee onto your white tee. Not that you were surprised because being a tad clumsy came to you naturally. Getting to class this morning had been a struggle. The universe seemed to be working against you, as it normally did when one was double majoring. You kept mulling over in your head your schedule for the day. Criminology at nine, lunch by twelve probably from Delmar's, probably on the go, next class by one-thirty, then ill go home and study, later to the grocery store...Internally planning was one way you kept your mind busy. And with everything you had going on, your thoughts had been able to stay away from Peter for the past week. You suddenly felt someone walking next to you and it caused your head to snap up, breaking your concentration, and causing you to drop the whole cup. “Fuck...” you cursed under your breath, glancing next to you. 

Oh god, here we fucking go...

“Hey y/n. Need a hand?” Justin smiled at you slyly. Always with the sexual undertones, as if he wanted to eat you right there in the sidewalk. Disgusting. Just be nice maybe he’ll go away. “Hi Justin. How are you?” you forced out a greeting, bending down to pick up the paper cup, you could feel his eyes gazing at your backside. Refusing to meet his predatory eyes, you stood back up straight and continued to walk, throwing your hair over your shoulder. “Well, I’m better now.” You hoped you hadn’t visibly cringed. you crossed your arms over your chest defensively and attempted to scoot away from him, but he just closed the gap and wrapped his arm over your shoulder. You squirmed underneath him, internally screaming for him to let you go. “So when are you going to let me show you a good time?” He gazed down and winked at you, his piercing blue eyes were beautiful, but you preferred deep, chocolate brown ones, soft eyes, loving eyes. Not ones that were stripping you naked in their imagination. “Uhh...Ex-excuse me?” You glared up at him, squirming from under his shoulder. “You know, like let me take you to dinner or a movie.” You breathed a sigh of relief, perhaps a little too soon, because he stepped closer, moving a strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. 

Boy, would peter had ripped his hand off if he had seen this...

 “Or...you could come over to my place and we could drink some wine...you know watch a film indoors instead...” His voice trailed off and you could feel his breath. “Uh, that's not going to happen, Justin.” you pushed away from him, but low-and-behold he was right after your heels. “Why not, still waiting on Physics boy to move back?” His words stopped you dead in his tracks, you whirled around looking him directly in his handsome features, breathing ragged. “Don’t talk to me anymore.” was all you could choke out, before whipping around and leaving him standing alone, moving quickly towards the Criminal Justice department. 

Your cheeks were brimming red, and his head was hot. He had no idea what you had been through. How dare he be so presumptuous. You pulled out your phone to text M.J. that you were there, just late. There was someone standing right in the doorway, you could tell from a distance, they were peering out the glass at you. Has this guy been watching me..?  No that was absurd. He was probably just peering out at the sky. There had been a lot of rain this fall, and the vastness above you was scattered with dark clouds, threatening to open up and rain for the third time this week. The figure receded back into the hall as you got closer, and you swung the door open, thankful for the warm air on your cold hands. You rubbed them together, then peered around for M.J. She was probably already down the hall in the lecture. Before you could start to head that way, someone stepped in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. 

Brown eyes. Those brown eyes you know so well. Boring into you, halting your whole world. Bringing it to a still. Freckles decoratively speckled a perfectly shaped nose, right above those gentle lips, the same lips you shared so many conversations with, swept with your own, talking in tongues, and groans, and grunts of passion. In less than a second, you took in his whole face, his entire appearance in your eyes. In your soul. The sun had kissed his skin for every one you weren't able to give him. Glowing and royal, strong and beautiful. He’s talking to you, but you can't hear a thing. Nothing. You forgot how to breathe. After all, your breath was his, every breath you drew you’d gladly gave away to him. He had just stolen yours away, like he had the last year of your life. Was he asking you if you were okay? Asking you to sit down and breathe? You were still unable to make sense of a single word out of his mouth. “What the fuck?” was the last phrase you could utter out before your knees gave out and you fell to your ass on the floor. Peter had caught you by the arm, pulling you back up into him, and carrying you into an empty study room off to the side, sitting you on a chair, kneeling in front of you. Still complete silence, all around you. Unable to hear a thing, only to see those beautiful lips moving. 

Then he touched your face, and you started to gain back your focus. “This isn't real...” was all you could manage. “Yes it is, babe I’m right here.” You heard his voice. For the first time in over a year, you could hear him, crystal clear. Not just in dreams, or in voicemails he had left you that you were never able to dispose of. His actual voice, one that belonged to an angel. 

My angel.  

“You left me.” You were shaking violently. So many thoughts were bounding through your mind, but all you could say to peter was ‘you left me.’ And it said everything that needed to be said. Unable to mask all of your emotions, also unable to keep your hands off of his face. Feeling him, his features. You had longed to touch him for so long, wondered if he was still alive and okay, and now as your hands played over his cheeks, his jawline and nose, he was so real to you. So alive. 

“I did...and I can’t fix what I did, but babygirl I can tell you why...I owe you that, well so much more than that princess...Let’s just get you home and I can explain everything, okay?” You shook your head slowly. “Wait but I have class? and M.J...” Peter put his hand to your lips and hushed your banter. “Shh its okay, y/n don't worry about class, MJ will be fine, this is very important. Just come home with me.” He stood up reaching for your hand, which you offered him willingly. Home. Our apartment that we shared together, he still considers me home. “Okay.” You nodded rapidly as Peter helped you stand, and guided you out the door, towards the apartment. The cold air hit you like a wall and thunder began to rumble slowly over the sky. But nothing mattered, because Peter was at your side, holding tightly your hand. Shock still ravaged your mind and body, but you would have all of your answers. Every night you laid and cried and wondered alone, you would finally have closure. 

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[harley-sunday]

Things We Lost in the Fire [01]

Prompt found on Pinterest: During a bank robbery you’re surprised when the criminals seem to recognize you and retreat in fear. Only after do you learn that your high school sweetheart now runs a global crime syndicate and has you placed on a “no harm” list. You decide to pay him a visit after all these years. 

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader (F)

Warnings: Language.  

Word count: 4279

AN: This is as AU as AU’s get, so don’t say I didn’t warn you. But that prompt, oh that prompt was magnificent! This story basically wrote itself, during two very boring afternoons at work. I think it’s unlike anything I’ve done before, story-wise, so I hope you’ll like it. Please let me know what you think! Also, as this will only have about four parts and it’s not your usual reader insert  I’m thinking of doing a taglist, so leave a comment if you want to be included. Once you’re on the taglist I would appreciate a reblog or comment for any chapters that follow. ♥

Masterlist

“Well, fuck you too!” you sneer, flipping off whatever asshole cuts you off so bad you have to slam your brakes, the seat belt restraining you as you jolt forward. Jesus, can no one drive these days, or what? 

You want to give yourself a moment to recover from the near-hit but then some other asshole behind you honks a couple of times, urging you to get a move on. You flip him off for good measure too, cursing quietly because it’s not even seven in the morning and you’re already done for today. 

You’re still pretty pissed off when you pull into your designated parking spot at work, close to the entrance of Carver State Bank. You’ve worked here as a bank teller ever since you moved from Atlanta back to Savannah four years ago and well, it’s not your dream job but at least it pays the bills. You started out as a temp, not really interested in working at a bank, but you needed the money. Bad. And then when they offered you a permanent position after your three months were up, you figured, why not, and stayed. 

At Carver State you’re the only one of the tellers who works full time, the rest of them all middle-aged women who, at most, work three days a week. There’s five of them in total, and all of them are very kind. You have a soft spot for Bea though, the oldest of the bunch, because once she found out you were out here all by yourself, she decided you need some TLC. She checks up on you whenever you’re sick, brings leftover dinner to work for you to take home whenever she gets the chance, and she keeps hoping you’ll find a nice guy to settle down with. You even spent Christmas with Bea and her family last year. And honestly? You love it.  

Bea is also working today, but won’t be here yet because the bank doesn’t open until nine, and you only got in early to decorate Bert’s office, who turned fifty-nine this weekend and starts at eight every damn day. 

Rummaging through your purse you manage to find your keys just before you make it to the front door and once you open it, you hurry to the keypad to punch in your alarm code without really looking at the display. The lights that are supposed to come on automatically don't, and so you wonder if the alarm was already disabled by someone else but you can't check now unless you ask Bert to log on to the security system and that's not really an option at this moment. 

The sun’s already been up for about an hour, so there’s enough light from outside to help you find your way to the back anyway, and so you figure there’s no harm done. But then you hear a sound coming from Bert’s office you wish you would have paid more attention to whether or not the alarm was activated. Your heart’s in your throat in an instant and for a moment you wonder what to do, because maybe someone’s robbing the bank, but then you hear a quiet, “Gosh darn it,” coming from the office and you can’t help but let out sigh of relief.

“Hi, Bea,” you almost whisper so as not to scare her, but she still does, clutching her pearls when you open the door. Just the sight of her instantly lifts your mood. 

“Oh, sweetie, don’t you ever do that again!” She slaps you with the ‘Happy Birthday’ banner she was trying to pin to the wall and then laughs when you fake being hurt.

“Oh, Bea, I’m sorry,” you say, pouting a little for full effect, “but why are you here anyway? Didn’t we agree I’d handle the decorations?”

“Oh honey,” she says, handing you the banner and thumbtack she was holding, “I’m sure we did, but I really couldn’t remember, so I figured I might as well come in to either do it myself or to help you.” She grabs a bag of balloons from the desk and pulls one out, stretching it and bringing it up to her mouth, but not before she says, “You do the banner, hon, I’m better at blowing anyway.” 

The rest of your workday is pretty uneventful, except maybe for the second serving of cake Bert offers you after you’ve given him your best rendition of  ‘Happy Birthday To You’ with the fake British accent you mastered at University. Don’t ask. 

Bea’s in the middle of telling you how she excited she is her grandson Zachary starts Kindergarten next week and you are trying your very best to make it look like you’re paying attention when really you’re trying to figure out whether or not it would be weird to go get a cocktail after work. By yourself. On a Monday. Because goddammit, after the morning you’ve had, with that near-collision, you’d sure as hell deserve it.

You have just dutifully hummed to let Bea know you’re still listening, or pretending to anyway, when the automatic doors open and a young couple walks in. As most young couples do, they head straight to Bea and so you stand up, relieved to get a break from her monologue, because even though Bea is as sweet as they come, the woman sure loves to talk. You let Bea know you’re going to get a coffee just before she greets the clients and make your way out of the secured area to the small kitchen down the hall. 

You’re waiting for the machine to come to life, impatiently tapping your fingers on the counter top because it takes this thing at least a full minute to warm up, when you think you hear a noise coming from the front. It has you rooted in your place, your ears straining to hear anything else, but it stays quiet and so you wonder if you’ve imagined it. The machine’s finally up to temperature and you’re about to press the button for a cup of coffee when you hear Bea shouting something that sounds like, “Over my dead body!” 

You’re not sure if it’s instinct or those endless safety drills Bert puts all of you through every three months, but your body has reacted long before your mind does when you find yourself running to his office. You enter without knocking, slightly out of breath when you whisper, “You need to push the button, Bert,” before you run back out again.

You know you’re supposed to go hide somewhere, wait it out until the police comes after the call from the panic button goes through. Maybe even try to make it outside using the back exit, but you can’t leave Bea out there all by herself. What if something happens to her? What if something has already happened to her? You find yourself getting angrier the closer you get to the door, because goddammit, how dare they try to come here? How dare they fuck up your quiet Monday afternoon with their attempted robbery. 

Attempted yes, because if it is up to you they will not succeed. 

By the time you push the handle you are fuming and ready to give these fuckers a piece of your mind, but then you see three men standing on the other side of the secured area, all armed to their teeth with assault rifles and guns, and it keeps you rooted in your spot, your voice lost somewhere in your throat. A quick glance around the room tells you the young couple is nowhere to be seen and for a moment you’re thankful but then you can’t help but wonder if they had any part in this. Your eyes land on Bea then, who stands behind her desk, a defiant look in her eyes even though three men have their guns trained on her. All of them are quiet and for a moment you’re proud because it looks like Bea’s got the upper hand.

It’s then you spot the fourth, and what you hope is the last man out of the corner of your eye. He’s trying to pick the lock of the door that leads to the secured area you’re standing in right now, a groan escaping him when he spots you. He sounds annoyed as if you’re just a distraction he now has to deal with. He stands up quickly, drawing his gun and one by one the men turn to you as a sort of response to the sound guy four made. 

They are all wearing balaclavas as a disguise and so you can actually see their eyes go wide when they see you. For a moment you’re sure it’s because they weren’t expecting anyone else to be here, even though everyone knows there are always at least two tellers present in a bank at any given time, because security, but then it’s almost like they recognize you. 

One of them actually mutters a quiet, “Oh shit, it’s her.” 

As if on cue they lower their weapons and retreat, quickly leaving the scene of the crime without taking as much as a penny, leaving you and Bea stunned at what just happened.

“And you are sure that is what they said, ‘Oh shit, it’s her?’ and then they left?” the Detective asks you for what feels like the hundredth time. 

You nod, “Yes, I am sure.” 

You let out a frustrated groan because you’ve been questioned for over an hour now and honestly, it makes you feel like you’re the criminal. “I’m not sure I can give you any new information at this point. I’ve told you everything already,” adding what you hope is an exhausted sigh for good measure. “Can I go home, please?” you try and to your surprise the Detective tells you you can. 

He informs you that they’d like to do a follow-up interview tomorrow and lets you know that they’ll contact you when they have any leads or news regarding the case. “We would appreciate it if you stay in the area for at least a day or two, Miss,” he says while pocketing the tiny notebook he used during the interview, “or at least let me know if you are thinking about leaving Savannah.”

You nod, because it seems like a fair request, before the Detective dismisses you with a wave of his hand and a quiet, “Thank you.”

When you step out of Bert’s office you find him leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you nod, because it sort of true. Sure, you’re still a little high on adrenaline, but other than that you feel fine. Maybe because the whole ordeal last only about twenty seconds or so. For you, anyway. “How’s Bea?”

“A little shaken up,” Bert admits, while walking you to the exit. “Her husband picked her up once they were done questioning her and she agreed to take the rest of the week off.” He turns to you, his voice unusually soft when he says, “I think you should too, kid.”

“What and sit at home, driving myself crazy thinking about this?” You shake your head, “No thanks, Bert, I’d rather just come in tomorrow.”

He sighs, knowing you’re too stubborn to take his advice, “At least start a little later then, ok? Eleven is fine.”

“Fine,” you huff, crossing your arms in front of your chest, not liking this special treatment. 

“Fine,” Bert mimics and gives you a wink. “See ya tomorrow.”

You glance at your alarm clock again, letting out a frustrated sigh when you see it’s already three-thirty in the morning and you’re still wide awake, the events of earlier today replaying in your mind every chance they get. You know you’ll probably won’t sleep any more anyway and so you grab your phone, pull up Google and type ‘2019 bank robberies’, surprised when you get over six million hits within less than a second. You know banks get robbed left, right, and center, but you never expected to see ‘Georgia’ pop up in so many results, stunned when you read the headlines:

Armed robbery in Macon, GA, leaves tellers tied up, but otherwise unharmed, in empty safe. Robbers walk away with half a million U.S. Dollars.

Macon, GA, robbery linked to Atlanta, GA robbery. 

“These guys are professionals,” local Sheriff admits among ongoing investigation. 

Pembroke, GA, next target of band of robbers. Two people injured after public tries to interfere.

Georgia robbers most likely part of a much larger crime syndicate operating nationwide. FBI now involved. 

“Jesus,” you mutter quietly, after finishing reading the last article, your eyes wide in shock. It’s not so much that, if it really is the same group that’s responsible for all these robberies, they have committed an awful lot of crimes already, it’s more that they never seem to hurt anyone. The only time people got hurt was when someone tried to run them off the road after the crime occurred. From the stories they seem almost polite, which is weird. 

Not for the first time you wonder why and how they seemed to recognize you and more importantly, why they left after that. Does it have something to do with their unwillingness to harm people? Biting your lip you go over everything again, from the moment the young couple came in until the robbers fled the scene, but still there is nothing that stands out. 

The sound of your phone ringing wakes you and you’re surprised to see it’s already eleven-thirty. Oh shit, you were supposed to be at work at eleven and so you’re sure it’s Bert calling when you answer with an, “I’m sorry, I overslept. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” 

“Uh,” the voice on the other end of the line is much deeper that Bert’s and you groan when you realize your mistake. “This is Detective Johansson, we spoke yesterday?”

“Yes, God, I’m sorry,” you sit up and cover yourself with your blanket even though he can’t see you, “how can I help you?”

“I just wanted to let you know we’ve gotten a hold of some of the security camera footage of the area, and I wonder if you could come in today to see if there’s anything or anyone you might recognize.”

“Uhm, yeah, sure.” You clear your throat, “When, uhm, when would you like me to be there?”

“One would be good,” detective Johansson says. “Just ask for me at the front desk.”

“Will do,” you say, but then you hear the call has already been disconnected and you look at your phone in disbelief. How rude. You shake your head and thumb through your contact list, pulling up Bert’s number to let him know you won’t be able to make it to work after all today, not surprised when he tells you he already asked Cathy to fill in for you for today and tomorrow. Just in case.

“Nothing?” Detective Johansson sounds a little shocked. He’s shown you footage of several security cameras, and one even captured the robbers in their getaway car, without their masks on, but the image is too grainy to see any facial features you might recognize. He must know this too but he makes it seem like it’s your fault. You decide right then and there that you really don’t like him. You’re sure he’s good at his job, but he’s got the social skills of a shark.  

He returns to the stills from the security camera footage inside the bank, once more lining them up as if you haven’t already studied every single detail. You have been here for almost two hours and Detective Johansson has been relentless in his questioning, making you go over everything again and again as if you haven’t already told him everything you know when he took your statement yesterday. 

“I’ve already seen these,” you offer quietly, “I doubt there’s anything else I can give you.” You let your eyes dart over the photos again and while you’re aware the Detective says something about looking harder, you hardly register it because all of a sudden your eye catches something on the left side of the bulletproof vests the guys are wearing and you hold your breath, because no, it can’t be.

You try to play it cool and hope you don’t give anything away when you let your eyes dart over the four photos again. On every single vest there is a patch with the letters JS on top over the number 82. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Fuck. At first you thought it was just the brand of the vests but now that you’ve actually seen what’s written there you know that it’s not. And you also know why they might have recognized you. 

Fuck.

Your mind is going a million miles an hour, trying to figure out what to do. The decision is made for your when Detective Johansson, rather unfriendly, tells you they’ll be in touch if they find any new leads, effectively dismissing you. 

You clear your throat and look up at the detective, “I’m sorry, I really wish I could help.”

He just nods and grabs the pictures, leaving the room without so much as waiting for you to follow him. 

“Asshole,” you mutter quietly, hoping none of the security cameras picked up on that.

You try to act cool as you leave the station but your heart’s racing and you tell yourself to slowly, slowly walk to your car so as to not draw any suspicion. Once you’re in your car you take your phone out of your purse, but then you realize you’re still in front of the police station and this might not be the best place to Facebook-stalk the person you think might have something to do with all of this, and so you start your car and head to Tybee Island, the twenty-minute drive doing nothing to calm your nerves.

Finishing the coffee you’ve ordered you think back to the past twenty-four hours, because that’s how long it’s been since your life got turned upside down. To the minute. You’ve checked.

Not for the first time it feels like you’ve ended up in a movie, but the fact that you had to stop for gas on your way over here was a perfect reminder that this is still very much real life. No matter how bizarre it seems. 

The waitress brings you the bill even though you didn’t ask for it and you’re about to tell her there’s a thing or two about customer service she still has to learn, but then you figure you might as well get back to it, because there are some questions you desperately need answers to. 

You try to recall the pictures the Detective showed you and even though you are certain that, even with the knowledge you have now, there’s no one on there you recognize or know from when you were younger, the JS 82 is a dead give-away. It has to be him. But why? 

You’ve tried everything but there’s nothing about him on Facebook or Google, even though you aren’t really surprised, because why would there be? You’re sure most criminals would rather avoid social media. Just to be certain you try Josh as well, but also, nothing. That’s not surprising, considering how bad of a state he was in when you last saw him. You wonder if he even is still alive.

You turn your phone over in your hand while you look out over the beach and wonder if you should just swing by his house. Well, his parents’ house. You doubt he still lives there, even though that would make one hell of a headline: ‘Armed robber found living in basement at parents house.’ You can’t help but laugh when you picture the scene of him being arrested, taken from his room in nothing but his boxers. 

You shake your head and make up your mind, knowing it will probably lead to nothing anyway, but you just have to know. Maybe he has nothing to do with this and it’s all one big coincidence, but you won’t know until you go there, won’t you?  

You’re not sure if actually going to see his mother is a good idea, because what if the police have put a tail on you? You grin then, because you are definitely not important enough to be tailed. Jesus, you’re just a bank teller. Get a life.

Plus, if it really is him, you reason, well, they haven’t been able to catch him until now, so what would your visit change? It seems like the police still don’t have a clue who’s behind all this. You’re assuring yourself it’ll be fine. 

Leaving the money needed to pay for your coffee and a little tip on the table, you get up before you grab your purse and head back to your car. 

The drive over to his parents’ house doesn’t take long, also because you still know how to get there without your navigation, and are you really surprised it still looks the same as it did sixteen years ago? No, of course not. 

You hesitate for a moment before you get out of the car, because if anything this is all just fucked up, but you know if you really start to think things through now you’ll never make it to the door. It takes you a few minutes to pull yourself together but then you’re finally on your way. 

Taking a deep breath you ring the bell and it isn’t long before you hear footsteps coming towards the door. You hear the handle being turned and for a moment you wonder if he’ll be on the other side, but then you you see his mother standing in front of you and suddenly there’s this lump in your throat that you try your best to swallow away. 

“Oh honey,” she says, her voice as sweet as you remember, her Romanian accent still there somewhere in the background, even after all these years. “He knew you’d stop by. Come on, get inside,” her voice drops then, “don’t want anyone to see you.” 

She wraps her arm around your shoulder and closes the door with her left foot, the way she always did and which often got her scolded at by her husband, claiming her shoes left a mark on the door he had to repaint every year. 

You let her lead you to the living room where she points to the couch, “Sit.” You obey, of course you do, and watch as she heads towards the kitchen to get you a drink no doubt, but then she seems to think better of it and walks to the bar cart instead, pouring two glasses of Scotch. She hands you one before she sits down next to you, “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you say, but you notice the way your voice catches in your throat, making it sound like your asking a question. You want nothing more than to have her explain everything to you, but you don’t know how to start and so you just sit there, the sip of Scotch you took burning its way down your throat.

“I really can’t tell you much,” she offers after a while, because like always she knows exactly what you think, “but he wanted me to give you this.” She takes a folded envelope out of her bra, an apologetic smile, “Sorry, honey, had to keep it safe.” She laughs then, “At least it’s warmed up.” 

You can’t help but smile too and carefully take the envelope from her, putting it in the side pocket of your bag. That’s for later.

“He also wanted to give you this,” she continues while she takes something out of her purse. It’s a single key, no ring, no marker. She gives it to you, “Pawleys Island. I’m sure you remember the address?”

You nod, because yes, yes you do. You know this will lead you to the last beach house on Atlantic Avenue, where you spent many summer days with him. Happy memories start flooding your mind, but you push them back. For now at least. Maybe tonight you’ll let them in. 

His mother puts her free hand on your arm, interrupting your thoughts, and gives it a little squeeze, “I really wish I could tell you more, but he made me promise not to. Plausible deniability, I guess.”

You’re not sure if she’s talking about her or you. 

She smiles then, “He’s changed, I mean, that much is obvious, but,” she clears her throat, “the boy we both know and love is still in there somewhere. It’s not all bad. Just,” she squeezes again, “just hear him out, ok?” 

You nod, because you don’t trust yourself to speak, tears already threatening to spill from your eyes. Being here, talking to his mother, it takes you back and it reminds you of all the good times you had and you can’t help but wonder what happened. Well, you sort of know what did, but you wonder what got him there and if the dots you are slowly starting to connect are the right ones. 

You know what you’re doing is wrong and that you should probably just call Detective Johansson and tell him everything you’ve found out so far, but you just can’t. You want to hear the other side of this story first. 

You want to know why your high school sweetheart started robbing banks.