#i do remember phrases like 'his eyes flashed red' but i dunno

[anqelbean]

This fandom does not appreciate Binghe's human form's shiny black eyes that hold a universe of stars in them. Shen Yuan made a point to mention them every time he saw them and yet our fandom does not do them justice.

[zodiakuroo]

Envy

EreMika is the villa’s top couple. Reader is hoping to turn one of their heads.

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Mikasa Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Contains: 18+ characters, a good ol' fashioned love triangle, possessive behaviour, dom/sub dynamics, lil angst + lotsa pining, threesome, the sex is kinda messy but so is everything else

Word count: 10.5k (yes it's proofread but it's also kinda not)

Notes: For @doinmybesthere’s love island collab! happy pride month 🏳️‍🌈

Lush, mediterranean forests, thick with leaves and the wonder of adventure hidden inside.

Snow white, sandy beaches

Cerulean waters that sparkle in the sunlight and stretch to the edge of the horizon

The view from the infinity pool really is magnificent.

“You and Armin look good together.”

“You think so?” You murmur nonchalantly. The dark shades that cover your eyes dim your surroundings, making it all the more easy for you to see the brilliant figure in front of you.

“You don’t?” Mikasa cocks her head to the side, jet black bangs sweeping across her forehead.

“Armin’s a great guy. He’s my type on paper but… I dunno… I guess I wanna keep my options open.” You chew on your bottom lip, hoping she’ll change the subject. You can’t help the guilt that sits heavy on your heart.

The ‘you’ on the outside would never do something like this. Lead on some poor, innocent soul so you can stay close to the true object of your affections, biding your time until you can confess. Only when you’re certain that said love interest is free to be yours.

“Well, I still think you should lock him down before the recoupling. I don’t want you to get sent home.” Her gentle voice chases away any shame, kind eyes reminding you how you ended up in this situation in the first place.

“Oh you’d miss me?” You adjust your sunglasses, propping them atop your head, slowly wading towards her

“Of course you idiot.” She deadpans, kicking at the water, splashing in your face a little. You squeak in surprise and retreat a little. “You’re my best friend in the villa.”

If guilt is gnawing at you from one end, on the other end is bitterness, frustration slowly building towards a fever pitch.

Still, you don’t want to think about that now. You’ll only sour this moment for yourself. It’s rare that you get her full attention like this these days.

In the beginning, you two were inseparable almost from the jump. Both of you were a little more on the reserved side, especially stepping into such unusual circumstances. Naturally, you gravitated toward each other. Simply being in each other’s presence was enough to bring both of you out of your respective shells. That was the chemistry between you and Mikasa.

But when he dug his claws into her, your crush became one half of the strongest couple in the villa, leaving you behind to bury your own feelings.

Normally he’s stuck to her like a leech with his arms hanging around her like chains as if he’s afraid she’ll make a break for it any second. Like he’s afraid she’ll realise she’s too good to be catering to his every whim, too good to put up with his moodiness and too smart to fall for his charming front.

“Are you hoping someone new will come into the villa?” Someone ‘more your type’?” She uses air quotations to copy your words.

“Not exactly.” You start, distracted by the way she adjusts her bikini top, the soft flesh bouncing ever so slightly underneath her red bikini. The skin on her nose and on the apples of her cheeks are branded a similar shade thanks to the summer sun.

Your heart thrums against the ungiving wall of your chest, as you drift slowly towards her again, this time until you’re so close you feel her feet, drifting underwater at your waist. “I already have my eye on someone.” You answer as truthfully as possible.

“Are you gonna tell me who?” She furrows her brows curiously as you wrap your fingers around her ankles, slowly moving them up to rest on her calves. You use the position to pull yourself closer to her, until your chin rests on her knees. She leans down, as though she expects you to whisper the name of your crush into her ear.

You press yourself on to tip toes, to meet her halfway. Time seems to slow as you try to figure out what to do.

Lie? Confess? Kiss her?

But time doesn’t slow and-

SPLASH

You don’t get a chance to respond after your moment is ruined with an icy splash from behind you.

“Fucking hell!” You scream swatting water in his direction.

Right on cue.

“Eren what the fuck!” Mikasa scowls at him, clearly not amused either.

“I was just messing with you guys.” The sound of his cheery laugh may as well be nails on a chalkboard to you. “Sorry babe.” He pouts.

He takes up your spot by nudging you out of the way ever so subtly. Except it’s not really subtle. Not to you anyways. It’s pretty reminiscent of when he pushed you to the side when the two of them got together. He’s telling you to remember your place.

“Grow up Jaeger.” You roll your eyes.

With his arrival, discomfort sets into your bones. She accepts his apology almost instantly as always, easily placated with simple kisses. Innocent enough at first, starting over her knees but bit by bit his lips move further and further up her thigh, until she’s pushing him away murmuring “Not here.” As if he cared…

Watching them together, the picture of lovestruck, from a distance is nauseating enough, today you don’t have the willpower to experience it firsthand as a third wheel.

You’re about to excuse yourself when you hear Sasha yell from the opposite end of the pool. “Hey guys! I’ve got a text!”

Everyone shuffles closer, awaiting the message with quiet apprehension. When Sasha opens the message she gasps before reading it, making everyone’s anxiety grow tenfold.

“You don’t have to be a math genius to know that 1+1+1 = a crowd. It’s time to simplify the equation. Eren and ______ , get ready for a date! #LoveTriangle”

All eyes are on you in an instant and you resist the urge to duck down under the water to hide from the cameras. You wonder briefly if it would be easier to breathe down there, rather than up here where the tension is suffocating. Your fellow islanders are murmuring amongst each other but the words are indiscernible, muffled by the blood rushing to your head, face burning hot with embarrassment.

Everyone around you is wearing variations of the same expression; confusion. Sure they all had theories about you and Mikasa. Not that you were exactly subtle about it. Often touches that would linger for just a little bit too long, you would always lean in just a little too close when helping her with her makeup and many a time you’d been caught staring at her from afar. It’s just a little too intimate to be completely platonic but not intimate enough to be considered anything but a friendship. Then again, you never even had a chance to take it further because the only person who didn’t seem to notice was the ever oblivious Mikasa, not when she couldn’t see past the brunette boy with the striking jade eyes.

Now, looking at those very eyes you notice how they’ve lost their usual playfulness. As the exception to the bewildered expressions around you, he looks cold and unreadable. Then the corners of his lips twitch up into a small smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes but big enough for him to flash his sharp white canines at you.

Mikasa has her eyes fixed to her hands in her lap, picking at her nails (a nervous habit she once told you). She refuses to look at neither you nor Eren.

You want to explain but the right words are nowhere to be found. Right here and now, in front of everyone (including the person she’s currently coupled up with) is not how you wanted her to find out. But you have to say something, anything to take away the melancholy that is so obviously weighing her down, but the words are stuck in your throat and before you can swallow that lump, he interjects.

“I wanna talk to Mikasa real quick.” He addresses you directly. “Why don’t you go ahead and get ready?” He phrases it as a suggestion but it’s more of an order. And just like that, your emotions flip to irritation. Who is he to tell you what to do? Even now, he wants a monopoly of her time and attention. As if your relationship (even just as a friend) might not also be damaged because of this.

And it’s not fair. You have to speak to her as well. You need to tell her that-

“It’s fine.” Her mouth pulls into a tight smile, being mindful of the cameras. It’s obviously not genuine, you can tell but you also know that she’s not one to show her true feelings, especially not publicly like this. But this feels too much for her and that brave face has never been more transparent.

Still, her slate gray irises meet yours. “I’ll be inside to help you get ready in a minute.”

You give an equally artificial smile and then swim across to the other side of the pool, where Sasha lends you her hand to pull you out of the water.

_

The car ride was awkward at best, insufferable at worst. You and Eren weren’t on friendly terms to begin with. Aside from the fact that he was coupled up with your crush, it was safe to say that being alone with him is not something you would ever have done willingly.

Where you found him loud and obnoxious, Mikasa found him excitable and bubbly. Where you saw him as stubborn, Mikasa saw him as driven and headstrong. Where you thought him impulsive and reckless, Mikasa thought him brave and spontaneous. When you said that he was rude and crass, Mikasa would say he was opinionated and outspoken.

It wasn’t as though she couldn’t see the bad sides of Eren but it was that she cared for him in spite of those things. Loyal to a fault she was. You let out a heavy sigh, thinking how much worse that makes all this. She must feel as though the loyalty she felt towards both you and Eren had been spat back into her face.

Silently you stare out the window, head turned away from him. A rare moment when you don’t feel the presence of camera lenses watching your every move.

Your brain is constantly replaying the last conversation you had with Mikasa. True to her word, she did help you choose an outfit and style your hair. But that natural comfort was gone.

No. That’s not true. The bond may be strained but it’s not broken. You can still do something to fix it. But neither of you were willing to address the elephant in the room.

Well, that's not exactly it.

It’s that neither of you knew how to.

Stood in front of the full length mirror, you took one last look at yourself, smoothing out the front of your sundress, but caught her sad gaze in the reflection behind you.

“Hey ____. Earlier, when you said you had your eye on someone. Were you talking about Eren?” Her voice was hushed but you feel it in your viscera, like a sharp kick that leaves you winded

You know what she’s thinking. What everyone is thinking. That you were going to swoop in and steal your best friend’s partner. And you can’t blame her because that’s exactly what it looks like.

But you didn’t betray her, you would never.

You want her. Not him.

It’s almost as though you’ll never get a chance to set the record straight. Before you could even try you were being shooed out the door.

Now at the table, you fiddle with the stem of your glass, resisting your body’s command to down the whole thing. Sitting here in silence with him for 2 hours may as well be torture if you were completely sober but it sure as hell would be better than talking to him.

Eren doesn’t seem to share your sentiments and is the first to break the silence.

“I know you don’t like me.” He says before taking a sip of his drink. “All this bullshit about a love triangle is ‘cause you like my girlfriend. Right?”

He flashes you his signature cocky smirk, one of the many things about Eren Jaeger that seem to irk you to no end.

“I mean she’s technically not your girlfriend.” You say as a feeble retort.

You are right. She’s not his girlfriend because he’s never asked her. Life in the villa was harsh like that. If your relationship wasn’t official, anyone was fair game. Really the only thing that had stopped you from making your move was the painful gnaw of your insecurity. The deep-rooted belief that she would never choose you over him. Just the idea of public rejection, in front of your friends, family and god-knows how many other people, puts the bitter taste of bile in your mouth.

“Like that fucking matters.” He leans back in his chair, long legs spread wide. At least you didn’t bother denying it, he thinks. But why would you, Eren is many things but he isn’t stupid. The way you stare at Mikasa all dreamy eyed, following her around like a stray puppy. When you two are together, he doesn’t like how you sit so close, always whispering and giggling at god knows what. You’re entirely too comfortable, letting her lay her head in your lap while you play with her hair. Small things like that add up, it’s not hard to fingers out what you true intentions are.

He’s not jealous. He’s not. Why would he be jealous of someone who doesn’t even have the balls to go after what they want? You just… bother him. You could have your pick of literally anyone in the villa but no. Instead, you’re always hovering around, waiting for him to fuck up so you can play the role of comforting best friend.

“What’s wrong?” Extra bravado backs your voice. You know this act. He’s trying to intimidate you. You always thought Eren saw himself as untouchable but the way his jaw ticks makes you wonder for a brief moment, is he threatened by you?

“Scared of a little competition? I think you’re on the wrong show.”

“Oh please.” He scoffs before picking up his glass again. “You’re no competition sweetheart.”

“Famous last words.” You hum condescendingly, before bringing your fork to your mouth, letting the food pass your lips.

He clenches his jaw tighter. Being able to push his buttons in this way is something you’re very proud of right now.

He lets out a deep exhale through his nose and says. “You know. I actually had my eye on you in the beginning.”

The bite of food seems to lodge itself in your throat, eyes bugging out of your head. You cough and sputter, quickly gulping down your drink to try and move the lump into your stomach.

“Surprised?” His voice takes on a much deeper tone.

You don’t reply, too busy fumbling for a napkin to wipe down the edges of your mouth so he continues. “Yeah. You’re hot, obviously. But also real feisty. Fun to tease and ease to get a rise out of. My type. But Mikasa…. I could tell she wanted me from the start and if I wanted to stay in this competition, I couldn’t waste any time grafting on someone who was playing so hard to get.”

“So this is all a game to you then?” You say through gritted teeth, both hands squeezing tightly around the cutlery you’re holding. All your anger is bundled up by a thin thread, ready to snap at a moment’s notice.

“I think you’re a little confused. Isn’t that exactly what this is?” He rests his chin on his palm, wearing that same chilling smile from earlier.

“You’re a real piece of shit. You know that?” You don’t want to lose your temper. Doing that means that you’ve given the upper hand back to him. Too bad you’re doing a terrible job of keeping it under control.

“Oh come on.” He laughs as if any of this is funny. “Its not like I’m leading her on.” Sharp as a dagger, those words jab themselves right in your gut. They’re a painful reminder that you don’t deserve to take the moral high ground. Thinking about what you’ve done to Armin, you may even be worse than he is.

“If I didn’t like her, I wouldn’t be bringing her tea in the morning, or making sure she ate.” Eren leans across the table, voice low and gravely. “Or making her cream all over my fingers every night while you and everyone else are fast asleep.”

You pick up the wine glass with the intention of covering his smarmy face in the blood red liquid.

Eren quirks brow at you, watching and waiting to see if you have the nerve. Because he knows that you don’t. If you did, you would have told Mikasa how you feel already. If you did, you would haven’t have latched on to the sweetest person in the villa as a fail safe. If you did, his pristine white shirt would have been stained burgundy by now.

Eren thinks you’re a coward and there’s nothing he hates more than that.

“Could have been you.” He sits back again. “Sorry I beat you to it.”

-

Your reception upon return to the villa is fairly mixed. Everyone is already dolled up with a drink in hand, the party in full swing.

Some people are glad to see you guys back, eagerly asking questions about the date. They might be genuinely curious as to how it went, interested in the development of new relationships or the survival of the villa’s power couple in the face of this challenge

Or they might just be in it for the drama, looking for gossip fodder. Wanting to know the details so they can go to the confessional booth and talk about how terrible of a person you are and how they would “never do anything like that to a friend”.

Other people greet you with disdain, people who would have been friendly with you mere hours ago. Armin is well liked in the villa, boyishly handsome with a kind heart. He’s a bit of a flirt at times but has never done anything with bad intentions. Of course everyone is fond of him. It’s only natural that you would look like the villain for stringing him along all this time, while he was developing genuine feelings for you.

Armin himself was angry of course, but it’s nothing if not deserved. You thought he would rage at you, call you selfish and cruel but he didn’t. Because Armin is a better person than you. You wanted to explain to him that you never meant to hurt him, but that wouldn’t mean anything because you did. In fact it would probably upset him more to hear that he was just an accidental casualty. A meek “I’m sorry” was the best you could offer. A nod and an impassive expression is all he offered in return, walking away to join Jean and some others on the daybed.

As for your date, you can feel his glare from all the way behind you as you make your way across the lawn to the bar. Mikasa is sitting on one of the stools with Sasha.

“Hey.” You interrupt Sasha’s animated chatter.

“Oh hey.” She turns to face you. While you’ve been gone she’s had time to build her defences up again, appearing stunningly neutral, not a hint of listlessness she couldn’t hide earlier. “How was the date?”

The first thing you think is She looks gorgeous tonight. But she always does.

The second thing you think is It’s time to grow a pair. Now or never.

You can still remember the sad look in her eyes from this afternoon. The thought still has your heart sitting in the pit of your stomach. The idea that it was a hurt you caused makes you want to throw it back up.

“It was…” You pause to find the right word. “Fine.” you decide on. You could have lied and said it was good but that’s probably not what she wants to hear. You could have been honest and said you would have had a better time removing your own wisdom teeth with a butter knife but that’s not the point. The date was irrelevant anyways, simple misunderstanding that you need to clear up right now. “But actually, I was wondering if I could pull you for a chat?”

Sasha hops off her chair, wobbling a bit as she lands. “Why don’t you guys stay here? I'm gonna go find Connie.” She places her hand on your shoulder, her own way of giving you a little courage.

You mouth a thank you that she meets with a wink before leaving.

You wipe your sweaty palms on the front of your dress, taking the seat across from her. Your mouth is dry and once again you can’t find the words to tell her how you feel.

Why can’t you just say it?

“So Armin is pretty mad at me. I’ll probably crash on the daybed tonight.”

You colossal idiot! You scream internally.

Once again you’re dancing around what you truly want to say.

Mikasa digs her clipped fingernails into her palm, struggling to keep her emotions at bay, dam threatening to break at any second. After everything, that’s what you came here to say? She knows it’s not your fault that you two didn’t get to talk before you left but you don’t think she deserves an explanation now?

At least Eren had the decency to come to her after. He didn’t say much except reassured her that nothing happened and he wasn’t interested in coupling up with anyone else.

Still, it didn’t quell Mikasa’s insecurity.

She’s never been jealous before in her life but this must be it. It feels like someone has dug into her chest and is squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until her poor heart is nothing but a crumpled mess.

If it had been anyone else, maybe it would have hurt less. Now she’s so afraid that she's losing you to Eren and she's losing Eren to you and in the end, she’s the one left with nothing.

“Yeah he was pretty upset when you left.” With her elbow on the counter top, she rests her chin in her palm. You’re used to her stoic expression because you know if you look long enough, carefully enough you’ll see how soft she is. But this is different. There is nothing but cold, hard steel behind her eyes.

“I deserve it though. I shouldn’t have strung him along like that.”

“Yeah I’d be mad too.” The bitter edge to her voice is one that you’ve never heard her use towards you. You try hard not to take it personally, she’s only mad because she doesn’t understand. You have to set the record straight.

Now or never right?

“Mikasa look. I have to tell you something. I-”

“I’VE GOT A TEXT!” Jean announces, getting in the way of your confession.

“For fuck’s sake.” You mutter under your breath.

It’s pretty obvious at this point that the producers have you on their hit list but as Jean reads aloud the message, it only becomes clearer that they must have some personal vendetta against you.

“Eren, you get to spend the night in the hideaway with the islander of your choice. #DecisionsDecisons”

It’s an easy decision so Eren doesn’t give it much deliberation.

But his choice shocks everyone.

“_____. It’s you and me tonight.”

Even after what transpired this afternoon, your relationship with Mikasa was salvageable but this… you don’t think it will survive

Without a word, she hops off her seat, storming into the villa without sparing a glance at anyone else.

It might have been the final nail in the coffin for his relationship with her as well.

-

Alone in the hideaway, you nervously tug at the silk sheets, bunching the fabric between your fingers.

You’ve been waiting here for 15 minutes, sat in your pyjamas, a simple t-shirt and cotton shorts. The possibility that Eren would stand you up becomes more and more likely. Why he would do all this instead of just choosing Mikasa is beyond you but you know better than to waste precious brain cells trying to figure out Eren Jaeger. If he did plan on leaving you alone here for the night, it was probably for the best. At least you could sleep in a room by yourself for the first time in ages. A small consolation.

Just as you start to contemplate turning off the lights and calling it a night, you hear the door of the room creak open.

Eren walks in still dressed in his jeans and white linen shirt and kicks off his shoes.

“Look Jaeger. I don’t know what you want from me but I’m not interested in playing your games. I-“

The rest of your sentence evaporates when Mikasa appears from behind him. You jump to your feet, fully prepared to leave. Did he bring you here just to humiliate you? If that’s the case then he’s had more than his fill, you won’t let him have any more fun at your expense.

“Not interested you say?” Eren raises his eyebrow, as he gently nudges Mikasa forward.

You should go but your feet just won’t move when she stands square with you. “What’s going on?” You ask, as your chest grows tighter, with every second that ticks by.

“Do you-” she pauses, after a silence that dragged on for much too long. “Do you like me?”

Everything about it is innocent; question, the tone, the way she looks at you. But now your heart is beating so ridiculously loud that you can’t think straight. She asks you so bluntly that you feel stupid for how long you’ve spent agonising over how you would confess. Unlike you, she’s never struggled to get to the point.

Behind her, Eren wears a poorly concealed smile and that’s confirmation of the obvious. You don’t know what he told her but it’s obvious she knows this much. There’s no reason to deny it now.

“Yeah.”

You had rehearsed it countless times, thought about all the flowery words you would use to tell her how you feel. Yeah is not as eloquent as what you had in mind but it would have to do.

“Oh.” Her blush deepens, blending perfectly with the red and pink hues of the dimly lit room.

Mikasa is still shocked, she didn’t really believe Eren when he told her. Granted, at the time she wasn’t really interested in what he had to say seeing as he had just publicly humiliated her. Hearing you say it now makes her rethink everything, from those early days up until now.

She’s seen people chop and change partners with every new face that comes in and out of the villa but that was never her. To her, she already had Eren so there was no need to consider anyone else. But now that she knows how you feel, things are different.

“Hmm. Oh.” You mimic followed by a dry chuckle.

It’s not the response you had dreamed about but what did you expect? Yes you’ve confessed but this wasn’t your moment. It wasn’t the one you’d been waiting weeks for. Ultimately, that moment never came and maybe that was a sign that you and Mikasa just weren’t meant to be.

The big room now feels too small for three people. There's not enough space. There’s not enough air. You need to leave. You need to-

“Well, why didn’t you say anything?” She steps closer to you. There is no malice in her tone. A simple question with a simple answer but you can’t pick up if this is a rejection or not.

“I didn’t know if you liked girls.” You mumble, taking a step back.

It’s not the reason. Maybe it’s one of them but you just needed the space to think. To breathe. But the back of your legs hit the bed and once again your backside is on the soft cushion of the mattress.

She moves even closer until her knees knock against yours.

“That doesn’t matter to me.” She shakes her head and cups your face with both hands so you look at her face, her smile (even though it’s only slight) alleviates the tension in your chest. “If I like someone, I like them and… I think I like you.

The relief that you feel meets an untimely demise when Eren approaches the bed. He pulls her body flush against his chest.

You truly were something. Here he was making it easy for you but you still can’t say what you want. A coward.

He whispers something inaudible into her ear and now you have both of them looking down at you. This is the smallest you’ve ever felt, wanting to shrink even further under their scrutinising gaze. Still, you feel a familiar tingle just buzzing in your lower belly as they size you up.

She tilts her head to the side, granting Eren access to her neck which he accepts. He plants soft wet kisses across the expanse of pale skin. Pink tongue and white teeth appear every now and then as he leaves bruises and bite marks on the, once flawless, canvas. Her eyes fall closed as she writhes in his hold, grinding her rear on to his crotch. His hands wander, underneath the hem of her short dress, exposing more of her milky thighs, black lace panties just barely visible. She hums, finally opening her eyes, to look at you, her thumbs rub circles onto your cheeks.

You can’t imagine how you look right now but you know how you feel. Your head is spinning from the erotic scene in front of you, clenching your thighs to alleviate some of the heat you feel, breathing heavily even though all you’re doing is watch, sitting there in your cartoon pajamas.

Mikasa gasps as he digs his teeth into her neck especially hard, leaving behind the dents of his incisors.

“Focus.” He murmurs into the crook of her neck.

You don’t know what he means but you can’t exactly blame her. If there were hands squeezing and clawing up your thighs, never reaching where you actually need them. If there was a tongue sliding over the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth raking over the same sore spots over and over again before soothing them with featherlight kisses and kitten licks. If you were in her place, you wouldn’t be able to focus either.

“I- I’ve never been with a girl though.”

Your mouth dries up at the promise of her words. There’s no way she means….

“But Eren said he’d help.”

Help?

There’s no chance for you to stop and question once he unzips her dress, letting it fall off her body, leaving her in her underwear in front of you. You can’t stop yourself from shamelessly raking your eyes over her body.

Yes, you’ve spent days with her, lounging around in swimsuits but this feels new. Maybe it’s the way the black lace cups the curves of her breasts, budding nipples just barely visible through the sheer fabric. Or maybe it’s the way the matching fabric only just covers her pussy, that’s just mere inches from your face. She’s so close you can practically smell her. Your tongue dips out to moisten your lips, practically dying to taste her.

Perhaps the biggest difference comes in the smouldering way she looks down at you, it’s the same desire you’ve had in your eyes for weeks, finally being reflected back at you.

Your hands twitch atop your thighs, itching to do something.

Touch her.

Touch yourself.

Anything.

She tugs at the sleeve of your shirt and that's all the instruction you need. You pull your shirt over your head, perhaps with a little more eagerness than necessary. While Eren unhooks the other woman’s bra, flinging it across the room. You feel your nipples harden instantly but you can’t be sure if it’s because it’s due to the cold air of the room or the heat of her stare on your chest.

Mikasa straddles you, stepping free from Eren’s hold. From the corner of your eye you see him unbutton his shirt but you can’t focus on him for too long. Not when your bare chests are pressed together. Both of you shudder as your nipples graze against each other and you feel the heat of her cunt radiate onto yours. You hear the sound of heavy breathing, you can’t tell if it’s hers or yours. You can smell her perfume, intoxicatingly sweet jasmine and amber. Her pupils are already blown wide, only a thin grey ring that lines the pitch black of her iris. You see your reflection of yourself in them and you can only imagine that she is seeing something similar. Mikasa has literally taken over all of your senses, all except for one.

She’s so close to you, she must be able to tell that your heart is racing. Her nose bumps against yours ever so softly. You’re almost too scared to even move. Everything about this moment feels like a dream, what if you close that millimeter gap and it ends?

But you know it's real when her petal soft lips press against yours. It can’t be anything but real when she kisses you, gently as though you might break. You can’t help but want more, slipping your tongue past her lips. And finally you taste her and you don’t think you’ll ever get enough.

You swallow all the sounds she makes as you lick the inside of her mouth, lips sliding against each other. Every whimper makes you hungry for more so you kiss her deeper, massaging her tongue with yours.

Puffs of air escape through your nose, but both of you are much too desperate to stop the kiss for something as trivial as breathing. It’s not worth losing the feeling of her mouth on yours.

Before long, your hands are wandering, trailing over the curve of her ass, rubbing over thin fabric that moulds to her body, tracing the intricate patterns of the lace. Her hand glides up your torso gripping the soft breast in her palms, making you moan into her mouth. She smiles into the kiss, rolling your nipple between her fingertips, sending small shocks of pleasure straight to your pussy.

You maneuver her body, rocking her back and forth on your lap. It’s not nearly enough friction. You’re dying to get rid of the fabric that separates you. You want to feel skin to skin how wet she is for you. You want her to know how unbelievably wet you are for her. You fiddle around trying to adjust the position, trying to get her closer to where you need her.

“Baby.” A deep voice cuts through the tension in the room. For a moment you’d forgotten he was there at all.

Much to your chagrin, Mikasa pulls away from the kiss. You’re both left panting with your lips swollen. Your heart sinks as you come to the realisation that this is as far as everything would go. One searingly passionate kiss and nothing more. You couldn’t imagine a crueler fate.

Mikasa looks over her shoulder for Eren’s instruction.

He crosses his arms over his bare chest, toned muscles rippling with the motion, and stalks over to the bed. “On your knees.”

Obediently, she sinks to the floor, kneeling in front of you with Eren directly behind her. Yes, you just made out with his girlfriend right in front of him but suddenly you’re self-conscious being half naked in front of him.

He’s staring at you and not in the ‘ogling your tits kind of way’. It’s like he’s sizing you up, breaking you down with just his eyes.

“Can I take these off?”

You blink down Mikasa, not believing your ears but you heard the words yourself, clear as day. Eren does nothing but stare, expression unreadable. The room is quiet as they wait for you to answer.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod hesitantly.

Mikasa helps you shuffle out of your shorts and panties in one go, leaving you fully naked. Your legs are already shaking, resisting the urge to snap shut out of embarrassment. You can’t hide anything, not when she holds your legs apart, exposing your bare pussy to herself and Eren.

“Look how pretty she is, Eren.” Her voice is breathy. You’ve never heard her sound like this.

It’s because she’s in awe. Day in, day out you two would lounge around in swimsuits and not once did she picture this is how you would underneath them. Perhaps it’s better that she didn’t, because the thought would drive her crazy.

“Real pretty.” He hums in agreement. He can admit, your little display had him rock solid already. But god seeing you puffy cunt, lips already shiny and slick just from making out has him aching.

Mikasa slips two fingers between your folds, barely grazing your clit.

She pulls her fingers away admiring the way your slick webs between them. She holds her hand up for Eren to see. “Real wet too.”

It proves too tempting for him to resist. Eren leans down to suck on her fingers, cleaning them of your arousal.

You wish you could deny how much it turns you on when you hear him moan at the taste of you on her fingers. But it does and you can only hope they didn't notice how you flinched at the sound.

“You wanna taste her?” He teases when he notices her pout. He’s speaking to her but looking directly at you, pinning you under his gaze. “Then ask.”

“Can I eat you out?” She doesn’t miss a beat.

That tilts your whole world. Are you really sure you’re not dreaming? You nod, not trusting your own voice right now. Mikasa spreads your legs even wider but Eren stops her, firmly grasping the back of her neck.

“Nah. Don’t make it so easy on her. She has to use her big girl words.”

If you weren’t willing to take what you wanted, then he would give it to you. Eren is a nice guy like that. But he’s not that nice. If you wanted it, you were gonna have to say so.

“Right.” She agrees. “I’ll ask again. You gonna let me taste this pretty cunt?”

Eren’s throbbing behind his zipper. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her talk like that. It’s not a monster, more of a little green pest that buzzes around his brain asking him why she’s never said those kinds of things to him.

“Yes… please.” you answer hastily but neither of the two seem to share your urgency.

Mikasa’s touch returns, spreading your lips apart, only for her gawk at your dripping entrance, so close you feel her exhales on your skin.

The buzz in his head goes quiet because she’s waiting for his permission. She’s still his.

“Go on. Taste.” Eren whispers in her ear.

With one broad stroke, she drags her tongue across your cunt making your hips cant up towards her face, both of you searching for what the other has to give.

You will your eyes to stay open, hoping to brand the image of her between your thighs like this into the recesses of your brain. You don’t know if this will ever happen again and in case it doesn’t, you’ll have this memory.

Her tongue laps at your hole with the kind of excitement you can only hope to reciprocate by grabbing on to her silky hair, pushing her tongue further inside you. Not too hard, just enough to guide her in the direction.

She’s close. Right ther-

“Oi.” A smack echoes throughout the room. Eren is now knelt behind Mikasa, massaging the now sore flesh that was reddened by his hand.

Eren hated that you were a coward and he wanted you to take what you wanted but he’d forgotten that what you wanted was his.

Her attention is on him once again and the familiar jealousy starts to crackle in your belly. When Mikasa said that Eren would “help out” you didn’t think it meant him interrupting you two everytime you were starting to enjoy yourself. Of course it was naive of you to think that Eren would let you enjoy anything tonight. Maybe he did bring you here just to mess with you.

You hoist up your upper body to rest on your elbows just in time to see Eren take out his cock. Or rather he makes sure you see it. Gives you an excellent view in fact. It’s fully erect, bobbing against his abdomen while he gropes the flesh of her ass, giving her one more spank for good measure.

“You said you wanted to top right? Stop bein’ a fucking pushover.” He growls.

Her panties are pulled to the side, letting him press the fat, drooling head past her lips. You feel her breath come out in quick puffs against your thighs as she tries to accommodate his impressive girth. Inch by inch he’s filling her up until his hips press up right against her plush cheeks where he rests for a moment .

You look down to where her head rests on your thigh. Her face is scrunched up in either pleasure or pain, you can’t discern which.

Then Eren starts moving, slow and shallow at first and finally her eyelids flutter open. “I’m not done.” She digs her nails into your skin, making you wince. “Put that pussy back on my face.”

Eren lets out a satisfied noise. He really doesn’t know where she learned to talk like that. Even though she’s talking to you, he still feels it so he rewards her by snapping his hips faster, pulling out almost completely before ramming himself back in.

You don’t need to be told twice. Soon you’re back where you were a minute ago, Mikasa hopes to do the same, dipping her head low, already missing the taste of you on her tongue.

Sure she knows her way around her own body but she’s never eaten anyone out. She wonders if everyone tastes this sweet. Doubtful. She’s so eager for more wanting her tongue as close to the source as possible.

But before she can get there Eren chimes in.

“Nuh-uh baby. Go for the clit.”

Mikasa doesn’t argue because she knows that he’s helping her in the right direction. She can’t vouch for his skills, having had first hand experience. If she could learn to eat pussy half as good as Eren that would be enough to brag about.

She parts your slippery folds ever so delicately until she finds the swollen bud, that’s just throbbing for attention.

Her tongue hangs out of her mouth, tentatively flicking against it. She watches your face intently, taking careful note of your reaction. And what a reaction it is. Your thighs twitch beside her head, threatening to trap her between your thighs while you moan something that definitely sounds like her name.

She wants to hear it again to be sure.

“Spit on it.” He instructs her again.

You don’t think she will. The Mikasa you know would never do something so-

She doesn’t question his orders, cheeks hollowing out to collect her saliva that she allows to mix with your juices.

“See how messy she is? Fuckin’ sloppy.”

“So sexy.” She murmurs before diving for your clit again. Her tongue flicks at it haphazardly, she can’t get a good reach because of the way Eren’s thrusts shake her body. It feels good but you need more, shuffling down the bed until she can wrap her lips around the bundle of nerves. Everytime Eren hits just the right spot inside of her she moans against you, and you can feel the vibrations radiate from your pelvis up your spine.

While you’re so entranced by your own pleasure you don’t notice Eren’s lascivious stare. Mikasa being so eager to make you feel good should enrage him. He shouldn’t be this turned on, watching his girlfriend get on her knees for someone else, especially not you. But seeing the way, you’re so desperately trying to keep yourself from rutting against her face, nearly drawing blood from your bottom lip to try and keep yourself quiet. It’s adorable. But Mikasa has been too easy on you in his opinion and he doesn’t think you deserve ‘easy’. He wants to see your attitude breakdown bit by bit.

“Fingers. Use your fingers baby.” He prompts while slowing his thrusts, giving Mikasa more room to work.

One slender finger slides into your dripping cunt, feeling near no resistance on its way. Noticing how easily you take her, she’s quick to add a second, scissoring her fingers to stretch you out. High pitched ah ah ahs fall from your lips matching the rhythm of the drag of her fingers against your walls, the rhythm of Eren’s thrusts into her. It’s agonisingly slow, so she can enjoy the sight of you sucking her back in every time her fingers attempt to leave and admire the way your sticky arousal drips down her knuckles, onto the satin sheets.

Once Eren decides he’s had enough of that he picks up the pace again, meaning Mikasa has no choice but to follow suit. While her fingers pump in and out of you, she crooks them ever so slightly to try and find your g-spot.

When she prods at the spongy spot you go limp for just a second “Mikasa. Oh my god!” You squeal.

“Oho. She likes it.” Eren remarks, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “Keep doing that.”

Mikasa is nothing if not diligent. She consistently aims for that spot while her tongue stimulates your clit, stroking it over and over again. You’re practically rushing towards an orgasm, stomach muscles already tightening up and white spots already clouding your vision.

“G-gonna. Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.” You stammer, teetering on the edge.

“You hear that baby?” Eren asks. “She wants to come for you.”

Eren tugs on her hair, pulling up her head so she can answer him, but all she can manage is a string of needy whimpers.

“What do you say? Hm?” He pulls harder, not satisfied with her response.

“Mm-ah. No.” She slips her fingers out, leaving you empty and clenching around nothings.

“Atta girl.” He praises her, beginning to fuck her in earnest now.

All you can do is watch as Eren fucks her stupid on his cock, driving her closer and closer to her peak while you feel your own pleasure dissapate into nothing.

A hazy fog has descended over her eyes, she’s looking at you but she’s so far gone that she may as well be looking past you.

Eren’s hair is messy, chocolatey strands framing his face, skin dewy with sweat. The heavy plap plap plap of his hips ramming into her ass is deafening. He catches you staring and you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed although you do regret inflating his already sizeable ego.

“Tell her how it feels.” He hooks his middle finger into her cheek “Tell her how good my cock feels inside you.”

He has no issue with admitting he’s being petty but he wants you to see what he does to her.

No, scratch that.

He wants you to feel it. That deep hunger you have for Mikasa? He wants a share in it too. He wants you hungry like that for him too.

“Feelsh shhho good. Eren’shh cock feelsh sshoo good.” Her words are barely coherent, drool seeping from the corners of her mouth.

“Hmm. Ask her if she wants it.” He grunts.

“You want him to fuck you?” She slurs, words distorted by the obstructing force of his finger.

Do you?

Before you would swear up and down that you hated Eren. You still do. But Mikasa has gone delirious on his cock, mouth hanging open with her tongue lolling out, whining muffled “Eren Eren Eren”s even with him fish hooking her, and you can’t deny that it has you curious. It doesn’t help that you’re still desperate, from being left high and dry, poor empty pussy just begging for attention.

You shake your head yes and Mikasa’s hand comes down hard on your sore puffy clit. “Words.”

“Yes please.” You mewl. Tears prickle at your eyes from the sting between your legs. “Please. I want Eren to fuck me.”

“So well behaved.” Eren mocks you. “Hm?” He stops moving, still balls deep inside her.

“Good girl.” Mikasa practically purrs, lifting her head up once more. The small praise makes you feel flustered, desperate for more.

“Yeah?” His palm comes down hard on her ass. She almost sounds delighted at the pain. “What are you gonna do for your good girl?”

“I’m gonna make her cum on my tongue.” With that she’s back into your pussy, face first, suckling on your clit with quick pulses and pumping into you with three of her fingers.

It doesn’t take long for her to bring you back to that peak. Maybe because she left you on the edge just a moment ago only to let you watch her get fucked within an inch of her life. Maybe it’s you’ve been wanting this, fantasizing about this for weeks. Or maybe it’s because (as per usual), Eren Jaeger doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up, a string of filthy words falling from his lips.

“You're doing so well baby.” He still hasn’t moved, more focused watching Mikasa fuck you open on her fingers. She’s so focused on making you cum, he wonders if she’s even listening but he knows that you are. “Gonna make that sloppy pussy cum so good. Let her make a mess all over your face.”

That’s the catalyst. It’s then that you’re falling into the abyss of pleasure, legs shaking as you writhe on the bed, while Mikasa’s fingers ride you through your high, gradually coming to halt as everything subsides.

When you finally feel grounded again, you open your eyes in time to see Eren pull Mikasa’s face towards him. Tonguing at her mouth, licking inside and around it to clean off the remnants of your orgasm. You watch longly from the bed as their tongues tangle together, tasting the mixture of you and each other.

When Eren has had enough, Mikasa turns to you, spit-slicked face gleaming under the dim lights. “My turn right?” She asks you, still slightly breathless.

Eren answers in your stead. “Yeah, take these off.” He stretches the elastic of her underwear so it can flick back against her skin. He’s trying very hard to sound indifferent because he’d be mortified if you knew how eager he was to see Mikasa rut against your face until she cums.

“Move up.” The instruction is for you this time, Eren patting your knees that still dangle over the edge of the bed. You clamber up until your head lands on the soft, downy pillows, body sprawled on the length of the mattress now. Eren crawls on top of you, slotting himself between your thighs. Mikasa sits next to your head, now sans panties.

He nudges against your tender pussy with the bulbous head of his cock, spreading your lips apart ever so slightly.

You don’t expect a ceremony, closing your eyes in anticipation for the burn you know is coming. It never does.

“Beg for it.”

Your eyes fly open, face immediately moulding into a scowl. He looks down at you with unabashed cockiness, clearly amused at your frustration.

“You fucking bastard! I-“

“_____. “ Mikasa trails her hand down your neck, grazing over your sternum and tracing the underside of your breast and circling your areola. Your nipples stiffen under the light touch. “He said ‘beg’.”

“But I already said it, didn’t I!?” Your irritation simmers when you address her, still deep down you cringe at how petulant you sound.

Eren’s hand comes down hard against your pussy and you let out a loud cry on impact. His hands are bigger, stronger and harder than Mikasa’s and that one spank leaves your whole pussy aching.

“Told you babe. You were being too soft.” He slides his tip through your folds while you twitch underneath the two of them, spreading is pre-cum around, mixing it with your juices. “Now she thinks she can get whatever she wants.”

She takes your nipple between her fingers, tugging on it gently. “Is that true?” She twists it hard, making you wince. “ I thought you were a good girl.”

She soothes the sore nipple by laving her tongue across it but the reprieve doesn’t last long as she sinks her teeth into the hardened nub.

“I’ll be good!” You whimper.

You're dizzy from the teasing; Mikasa playing with your tits, mouth around one nipple while her hand gropes the other one and the torturous drag of the full length of Eren’s cock up and down your pussy. It’s slow enough for you to feel every ridge and vein around him, always stopping to tease your entrance, but never giving you the stretch you’re craving.

“P-please.” Your voice is hoarse. “Please Eren fuck me. Pleasepleaseplease.”

He’s content with that; hearing you beg for him. He would never admit out loud that he’s jealous but there is a certain envy that sits heavy in his bones knowing that you want his girlfriend and she wants you just as bad. That's why it helps to know that, at the same time, you want him and he wants you too, just in a different way. It's messy and twisted, perhaps a little too complicated to unravel now. Because right now he wants to fuck you until you cry.

Yeah, that’s the way he wants you

In one quick, smooth motion he enters. You let silent scream and just as you feel full enough to burst, he reaches his hilt.

Mikasa lets go of your nipple with a pop and murmurs, “There’s my good girl.” Against the shell of your ear.

Without warning, Eren starts to move, impossibly deep thrusts, moulding your walls to the shape of him. He prods against a spot inside you that has your back bowing off the bed but he holds you down by planting one of his large hands firmly on your stomach.

Soon, he’s fucking you hard and fast. He can’t help it. The loud sound of your sopping wet cunt squelching every time he slides home, dripping down his hefty balls as they slap against your ass with each brutal thrust, was just egging him on.

That, combined with the sweet-sounding quiet moans of his girlfriend with her hand between her thighs, rubbing quick, quick circles while she’s seemingly unable to take her eyes off of the both of you.

She perches up on her knees to get a better look. Wanting to see exactly where he enters you, wanting to see your pussy stretched out way more than her slim fingers could do.

The creamy ring that encircles the base of Eren’s cock makes her shudder. She feels a sense of pride, knowing that translucent strands of your cum was because of her. Part of why you’re so sex-drunk right now is because of her.

“Eren.” She purrs. “You’re fucking her so good. Making her feel so good.” She uses her free hand to tweak at her nipples, eyes flitting frantically between you and him.

“F-fuck!” You cry out as Eren bottoms out and stays there. He leans over you, face hovering just above yours, the strands of his hair brushing over your cheeks. His pelvis is against your clit, providing delicious pressure but not much else.

“Open.”

It takes a moment for you to process that he’s giving you an instruction. But then, you slacken your jaw, lips parting.

“Looks like you can listen huh?” He sneers. “Stick out your tongue.”

And you do.

It’s all so Eren can drop a glob of spit from his mouth into yours. He makes sure he does it slowly, so that the string of saliva can stretch and stretch and stretch until it plops unceremoniously on your waiting tongue.

“Don’t swallow. Keep it there.”

He gives you another one, coating your tongue in his spit while your own begins to pool in your mouth.

“Hey babe. You didn’t get to cum.” He addresses Mikasa. He gives you one shallow thrust of his hips, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix.

“Yeah?” She perks up, catching the meaning behind his words.

“Yeah.” He grunts, one more of those thrusts that puts him so deep you feel like he’s fucking the air out of your lungs.

She leans over you too now. Two pairs of eyes, look down on you from above. You blink your eyes shut, trying to escape their scrutiny.

“Open your eyes, sweet girl.” Mikasa coaxes you out of your sheepishness. She purses her baby pink lips, as if considering her next words. “Make me cum. Can you do that for me?”

For the third time that night, you have to question if you’re dreaming or not.

You nod your head a yes, feeling your own saliva pool in your mouth.

“So, so good.” Mikasa tells you.

“Shit.” Eren’s hips jerk against you, when. you squeeze tight around him when she tells you that. “Say that again.” He grits out.

Mikasa is positioning herself, facing Eren with her knees next to your ears, soaking wet pussy just an inch or so above your face.

“What?”

Their conversation is nothing but a faint buzz in the back of your mind, how could you focus on anything except what was right in front of you. Her pretty pink pussy, all wet just for you. The smell of her is heady, rich and sweet. The kind of thing you would get addicted to. God if she would only….

“——, you're such a good girl.” She sighs as she finally sinks down, resting directly on your face.

You moan involuntarily, finally getting to taste what your mouth has been watering for. You let your tongue stay still, letting her grind herself down on it. She tries to roll her hips in fluid motions but they stutter every time her clit rolls over your tongue as she lets out the most melodic moans.

You know that you’re being greedy now, but you can’t help it, the more she gives you, the more you want. Your hands fly up to her thighs and hold her in place. The tip of your tongue catches the rim of her leaking hole, trying to draw more of the sweet honey.

Eren clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “There you go again, letting her do whatever she wants.”

She pays him no mind, slipping her hand between her thighs to play with her clit, while your tongue massages the inside of her walls. “You’re just mean. She just wants to make me feel g-good r- ah right?” She rubs Her other hand tweaks one of your nipples, signalling to you that she wants an answer.

You moan a yes, muffled by the weight of her. You’re darting your tongue in and out of her pussy, unintentionally matching the pace of Eren’s unyielding thrusts.

She rolls the pulsing numb under her fingers, round and round. Her breathing quickens as she tries to bounces on your face; shallow up and down movements.

You can tell she’s close and briefly lament the fact that you won’t be able to see her face when she cums. You wish you could see what she looks like when that wave of pleasure finally crests. But when her knees dig into the mattress beneath her and rooting her firmly against your face, moaning your name as the waves of an orgasm rock her body, you can’t bring yourself to regret a thing. You’d let Eren have that. Getting to swallow down every drop that spills from her is more than a fair trade-off.

You clamp down on Eren’s cock, quickly approaching another orgasm of your own. Mikasa rides out hers by rutting against your tongue, her moans gradually fading into gasps.

“Make her real cum real hard okay ‘Ren?” She still hasn’t fully regained her bearings before she climbs off your face, (much to your dismay). “She really earned it.” She sighs giddy with bliss, plopping down beside you, turning her body to face you.

Eren huffs. “Your wish is my command.” His reaches your raw clit, rubbing it in harsh circles, setting your nerves alight like a livewire. There’s no way you could have held off your orgasm. Your muscles pull taut as you cum around his cock while he pummels your g-spot throughout your climax. As soon as you’ve come down, he pulls out of you. You whine, despite yourself, disappointed at the abrupt emptiness.

Eren mutters various expletives as he strokes himself over you. He’s coated in your cum and it makes the most obscene noise with every flick of his wrist. He releases onto your stomach hot, white ropes of cum shooting out, streaking from your belly button right down to the mound of your pussy. He milks his cock, desperate to get out every last drop, jolting his hips with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He collapses on your other side, leaving you sandwiched between the couple.

For a moment the room is filled just with heavy breathing, the three of you recovering from your recent activities.

Mikasa drags her fingers across your torso, smearing Eren’s cum over your skin.

Your body is sticky all over, a mess of sweat and sex. All of you are. But you’re not able to get your muscles to move, just yet.

As the lust that fogs your brain clears, nagging questions start to rear their head.

‘What does this mean for us now?’ being the most pertinent.

You roll over, to face Mikasa.

Perhaps now isn’t the time to ask, but you’ve learned your lesson about waiting until the right time. It’s in everyone’s best interest to clear it all up as soon as possible.

“So um- agh!” you choke around a sudden intrusion and a salty taste spreads across your taste buds.

“Not now.” Mikasa gags you with two of her digits that are coated in Eren’s cum.

“Yeah.” Eren jostles behind you. His sinewy arm snakes around your waist pulling you into his chest. At the small of your back you can feel his dick pressed up against you, already at half mast. “We’ll talk later.”

[hailing-stars]

@febuwhump day 21: torture

a phone call away 

summary

“Tony,” he said. He opened both eyes just as Tony put the Gatorade and the pills on the bedside table. “What happened?”

“Don’t remember?” asked Tony, with a smirk that told Peter doom was imminent.

Peter stared at the Gatorade bottle, then looked down at the bright red cast on his arm. He wondered how he was expected to open bottles using only one hand. “This really sucks.”

“Yep,” said Tony. “Sounds about right. That’s what happens when you drink half your weight in alcohol.”

OR

Peter copes with his post-snap trauma by drinking. Tony worries, and helps. 

Peter opened his eyes, only to quickly shut them after being assaulted by the lights.

His headache blared to life, and his right arm was encased in a cast. He couldn’t remember what he’d done to earn this trouble. What he’d done to merit this rude awakening in Avengers Tower medbay, but he had a sinking suspicion it had all started with Flash and Abe bringing out the keg.

He groaned and pushed his head into the pillow and wished he was literally anywhere else.

“He’s alive.”

Peter popped one eye open and saw Tony by the doorway with Gatorade and a bottle of pain relievers in his hands.

“Tony,” he said. He opened both eyes just as Tony put the Gatorade and the pills on the bedside table. “What happened?”

“Don’t remember?” asked Tony, with a smirk that told Peter doom was imminent.

Peter stared at the Gatorade bottle, then looked down at the bright red cast on his arm. He wondered how he was expected to open bottles using only one hand. “This really sucks.”

“Yep,” said Tony. “Sounds about right. That’s what happens when you drink half your weight in alcohol.”

A memory hit him. One of the white hot pain in his arm, and one of having his head in the toilet, puking, while Tony hovered somewhere above him telling him to get it all out.

Peter groaned again. Maybe it was better not to remember.

“From the baby-monitor cam-”

“-really wish you’d stop calling it that-”

“-it looks like you were swinging under the influence,” said Tony, ignoring his complaint about the name, “and at some point you swung into a building, fell, hit the sidewalk and landed on your arm, all before trying to fight a trash can.”

“Did I at least win the fight?” asked Peter, miserably.

“You tell me.”

It was obvious, even to Peter, that he’d lost.

Peter vaguely remembered a swirl of streetlights, the impact of a brick wall, and flailing his legs and arms as he fell. It was clear from his harsh landing on the pavement that in his drunken state he hadn’t been quick enough to save himself from the fall with his web shooters.

“And if you’re a little foggy on the first part of your evening,” said Tony. “You might wanna turn your attention to Thomson’s Instagram.”

Peter closed his eyes, and muttered, “He didn’t.”

“Oh, he did,” said Tony.

“I’m gonna kill Flash.”

“If May doesn’t kill you first,” said Tony. “Or me, for that matter. What were you thinking?”

“I dunno. Maybe I wasn’t. It was just, a party, you know? It was fun. Was being the keyword I think,” said Peter. He lifted up his broken arm. “This definitely isn’t fun. How long do I have to have this on?”

“Forever.”

“Funny,” said Peter. He sighed. “So much for super healing.”

“Yeah, well, all that alcohol probably put a damper on your freaky spidey healing, so you’re just gonna have to heal like us normal folks, at least for a couple of days,” said Tony. “Which is just as well considering your aunt is probably gonna ground you.”

Peter groaned, threw his head back into his pillows, and stared at the unattainable, frosty Gatorade bottle. He tried to ignore his pounding headache, the way his eyes hurt and begged for the lights to be dimmed.

This hangover was torture. Though he probably deserved it.

“Do you mind, uh, opening that?” asked Peter, pointing at the Gatorade with his free hand.

Tony took the bottle from the nightstand, opened it, and handed it to Peter, who accepted it with his good hand and gulped down half the Gatorade in one drink. He left it open when he put it back down on the nightstand.

“Are you sure this was really just about a party?” started Tony. “That you really just having fun, because I -”

“-Tonnnyyyyy,” said Peter. The headache was torturous enough. He didn’t need a lecture to come with it.

“Kid, I’m just saying,” said Tony. “Take it from someone who was lucky Instagram didn’t exist during his party years.”

“I’m not you.”

“I know you aren’t,” said Tony. “But it can happen to the best of us, and Pete, this is the third time in a month you’ve been caught with alcohol. I’m supposed to believe there were times you weren’t caught?”

“You’re not supposed to believe anything,” said Peter. He closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Can you dim the lights, please?”

Tony did what Peter asked, and dimed the lights. He sat back down in the bedside chair with a sigh. “I’m just worried about you. This isn’t like you at all -”

“-Can I please just rest?”

“Fine,” said Tony. “Fine. But we’re gonna have to talk about this sooner or later, and you know, I’m always a phone call away.”

Peter didn’t open his eyes again until he heard the doors just, until Tony was gone, and he was no longer at risk of having to talk about things.

*

Peter was supposed to be grounded.

May had reacted exactly the way Tony had told him she would, and sentenced him to two weeks in his apartment with only schoolwork and chores to keep him company. Chores that he couldn’t even properly do with one arm.

That hadn’t been such a big deal after a couple of days, which was the amount of time it had taken Peter’s arm to heal and for his cast to get taken off.

And when his arm became free, breaking grounding became easier, so he did, to escape his quiet apartment and his loud and menacing and threatening thoughts.

He crashed a party.

Someone at Midtown hosted it. He didn’t know who, really, and didn’t care to ask. He noticed none of his circle were around. Not even Flash, who usually got invited to every party and rarely turned down an invitation. He didn’t like it. The way parties and large rooms felt lonely and desert when they were absent of his friends.

Peter stayed only long enough to get a buzz going. It wasn’t the good kind, either. His thoughts stayed loud, only they were also swimming, and he’s sloppy as he stumbles around on the dark, New York street.

It occurred to him that was lost, and he was hit with that familiar dread that had occupied him while he was in space. That he may never get home. That he might disappear into the wind before he’s got the chance.

He shook and his breath came fast. He sweated, and wanted to cry, and wanted to be back in his bed or just stay in his apartment, watching TV with May.

“You know, I’m always a phone call away.”

The memory of Tony’s words broke him out of his panic, and slipped his hand into his pocket and fumbled around with his phone until he managed to press on Tony’s contact.

“Peter? What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry, Tony,” said Peter. He didn’t like the sound of his own voice. How desperate it sounded.

“It’s okay,” said Tony. “Where are you?”

“Lost.”

“Sit tight, alright? I’m gonna find you.”

They hung up, and Peter sat on a bench under a streetlight. He waited.

*

Peter didn’t throw up, but he wished he could.

He woke up the next day at Tony’s penthouse. He was nauseous, and shivered, even from under a pile of blankets, and he wished desperately that he could forget the night before. That wasn’t possible. His memories might have gaps in them, but he’ll never forget the paralyzing fear of being moments away from vanishing.

Tony must have been alerted that he’d woken up, because he pushed open the door to the guest room almost immediately.

“How’re you feeling?”

Peter sat up, slowly, and hugged the blankets closer to his body. “Like shit.”

“Sounds about right,” said Tony. “We still gotta talk about it, though. I let it slide last time, and it was a mistake.”

“My mistake,” said Peter. He shivered. “And don’t worry. I’m never going to drink again. Not after last night.”

Tony let the uncomfortable silence settle over them, and Peter didn’t like it. He had to fill the air with his explanation.

“Maybe I was using alcohol to escape,” he admitted. “You know it’s like sometimes my head is just so loud, and it feels like I’m going to be obliterated at any second, and alcohol numbed that. Made me forget.”

“Until it didn’t?” Tony had phrased it as a question, but Peter had no doubt the man knew where it was going. That maybe he’d been there and experienced it himself.

“Yeah,” said Peter. “Last night it just made anything worse.”

“That happens,” said Tony. “Alcohol magnifies your emotions. Not a great way to deal with your trauma.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

Tony squeezed his shoulder in a sign of support, and there was relief written on his face. As if he’d been worried that entire time, but instead of helicoptering over him, had let him work it out on their own. Maybe they were both growing.

“Now the question is,” said Tony. “How do we prevent it from happening again?”

“I’m never going to-”

“-but you might. Shit happens, and if you don’t figure out a way to deal with these feelings, they’ll eat you alive, or make you turn to some pretty desperate solutions.”

“Talking to you and May helps.”

“Yeah,” said Tony. “But I think you may need to talk to someone else, like a professional.”

“You want me to go to therapy?”

“I think it would help you,” said Tony. “I speak from experience, I go, and it helps me, and if it can help me, it’ll help anyone.” He paused, chewed on his lip. “And hey, you’ll have someone to complain about me to.”

Peter laughed. “I don’t know if any therapist has that much time or patience.”

“Brat.”

“Just being honest,” said Peter.

“I’m gonna make you an appointment,” said Tony, quickly, before Peter could even properly make a decision either way.

“Yeah, okay,” said Peter.

He didn’t know if he would’ve agreed if Tony hadn’t made his choice so easy and clear, and although he was sure therapy would be difficult, he was content, thankful even, that he had people like Tony pointing him in the right direction.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Two Gods, One Braincell Ch.6 Blessed Blade

Summary: Quest Complete!

---------------

Kagami glared at the intricate lattice of glowing green symbols that hovered over the entire city. Web-like strands reaching down, connecting to every resident. The curse circle was directly over the hall of judgement slightly off the city center. For kilometers around tilled farmland lay barren.

Adrien was trying very hard not to be smug. "So, what do you think?"

"I think we have our work cut out for us." She scanned over the phrasing of the curse, noting subtle variations as the wording repeated itself in multiple languages. "Couldn't make it easy, could you."

"Where's the fun in that?" Adrien grinned, pleased with Kagami's difficulty in breaking his curse despite that being the goal of this quest.

Glancing at Nino, Kagami saw him indecisively switching from being proud of his best friend's work one moment. To bordering on terrified of the lingering rage emanating from it the next.

Nino pointed at the third seal drawn around the curse circle, which prevented it from being broken on any day of the year save one. Today. "Was that really neccessary?"

Adrien shrugged, almost achieving the air of nonchalance he sought. "I was angry."

Kagami's absent scales prickled as Nino shuddered. She still wasn't sure what was more impressive. That Adrien could cast such a complex curse in the heat of the moment. Or that the mortals down there did something that made Adrien angry. Adrien didn't get angry.

It was quite frustrating if Kagami was being honest.

"Alright," Kagami rolled her neck and stretched her arms. "Here's the plan."

---------------

The priests' offerings smelled of hypocrisy and corruption. Nino wrinkled his nose, covering half his face with a sash to keep most of the smell out. That done, he made himself visible above the desecrated altar.

"Mortals!" Nino boomed. "Your penance has been found... wanting."

He knew Adrien would've made a more dramatic entrance but this was just as effective. Judging by the way most of the priests scrambled back, dropping their tools to the ground. All except one who lifted incense that burned with narcissism in Nino's direction.

With a flick of his wrist Nino's hexagon knocked the offensive stench out of the priest's hands.

"However... through no virtue of your own the Great Dragon Kagami has decided to show you mercy!" Lifting his arms heavenward Nino directed their attention to the sky. "Witness her clemency!"

Finishing his speech Nino vanished from their sight and rose above the smells that burned his nose.

Adrien grinned. "You make a good herald."

"No thanks." Nino sniffed his armor. "Ugh, I need a bath."

"Well you're in luck!" Adrien dumped shoulders with his best friend before the smell hit him. He sprang back, pinching his nose shut. "You weren't kidding!"

"I feel so loved right now," Nino deadpanned.

"Just..." Adrien waved him closer to the gathering stormclouds. "Stand over there. By destruction, that's worse than I remember it! Kagami's doing her thing."

---------------

Far above the curse circle Kagami adjusted her grip on her tsurugi. Focusing all her power on her mother's blade. Picturing it as the eye of the storm.

She moved into the first stance. The smell of rain filled her nostrils, unreleased lightning charged the air and ran across her skin.

Slashing the wind she moved into the second stance. Her clouds rose higher than mountains, covering the sun. Lightning arced from cloud to cloud. Her heartbeat accelerating with the coming storm.

Again Kagami changed stances. Thunder roared with the voice of a dragon. With the tip of her blade Kagami wrote her name on the sky itself. Wind and rain and lightning burst from the kanji.

Raising her sword Kagami turned to face the city below her feet. Then she raced earth-ward. Her storm following in her wake.

The curse roared like a lion. Three consecutive circles bursting to life above its main body. Raindrops hung suspended in midair and lightning froze in its tracks. The wind raged above it but did not come down.

Only Kagami's blade sank into the first seal.

"I am the Great Dragon Kagami!" She announced, voice booming.

The first circle broke and her sword found the second. Wind howling as it battered the second circle.

"Only daughter of Tomoe the Unyielding Storm!"

Cracks spread across the second seal and it too broke. Lightning joined the wind in its assault. Kagami forced her blade into the third seal.

"Greatest sword master of Heaven!"

The final seal screeched in protest as it shattered. Rain fell past her, washing away part of the curse as it went. Wind shaking apart the glowing words. Lightning burning away its lines as it flashed. Still the curse roared in defiance.

"In my Name I break Destruction's curse!"

Kagami's blade sliced its core in half.

Far below the mortals rejoiced as rain quenched their empty fields after a yearlong drought. Some danced in relief, others brought out empty jars, children and adult alike opened their mouths and drank from the sky. Afterward some would say they saw Kagami through the clouds, scarlet scales shining in the flash of lightning.

Nino opened his arms and let Kagami's storm wash the stench from his armor.

Adrien sent a marble sized orb of darkness toward the hall of judgement. The great doors burst open, letting in the wind and rain. Letting the elements cleanse what the priests had tainted.

Kagami shifted out of her dragon form, a grin spread wide across her face. Kimono soaked through with her own rain.

"Tackling it head on, huh." Adrien smirked.

"It worked didn't it."

He nodded. "Impressive as always." Wiping his wet hair out of his eyes Adrien returned the grin. "The greatest sword master in Heaven, huh?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you deny it?"

"Nope! It's been millennia since our first duel and you've only gotten better." Adrien's eyes gazed at her with admiration.

Despite the chill of wind and rain Kagami felt heat creep up her cheeks. Strangely she didn't mind it.

"Gods, look!" Nino pointed down toward the temple complex.

A squad of guards were escorting the priests out of the temple to the cheers of the other mortals. Apparently, they'd also had enough of the hall of judgement being profaned.

"Oh, now they decide to act!" Thunder rumbled with Kagami's annoyance.

Adrien just smiled. "I dunno, Ryuko. Sometimes," he took a deep breath. "You need something to look forward to."

Kagami eyed him skeptically but she inhaled through her nose. There, buried under her own magic and the lingering stench of their transgressions, was the tentative scent of hope. "Hmm, I guess so."

"Either way the prophets and oracles will notice heaven is answering their calls again," Nino pointed out. "They'll need the guidance." He slumped as realization dawned. "That means I'll have to do it."

"Think of it this way," Adrien wrapped an arm around Nino's shoulders. "We all played an important role! I cursed the city. Kagami lifted it. And you get to make sure the mortals don't backslide!"

"Well..." Nino gazed down at the city. Going through the best ways to encourage these particular mortals. "Alya will relish the challenge, at least."

"That's the spirit!"

Kagami smiled, letting her storm calm down to a drizzle. (Didn't want to wash loose soil away after all that, now did she.) Storm gods, particularly dragons, usually had very little direct interaction with mortals. She preferred it that way. Dealing with most other deities was already exhausting. Having to interact with thousands of mortals that hadn't even hit their first century yet on top of that? No, thank you. "I don't envy you."

"Ha!" Nino held out his fist.

Beaming, Adrien did the same.

Raising an eyebrow in amusement Kagami met them with her own.

Light sparked from their three magics.

Letting go of Nino, Adrien pulled Kagami into a kiss. No less passionate for its short length. "Home?"

"Of course," Kagami intertwined their fingers. "We have to tell Mother the news."

She was thrilled to see Adrien turn red at her words. He buried his face into her shoulder. Which must've been awkward considering how tall he was. Adrien mumbled something against her kimono.

"What was that?"

Lifting his still red face, Adrien gave her a shy smile. "I'd like that."

Shifting in unison Kagami and Adrien raced across the sky. Scarlet dragon with black cat. Nino waving after them.

Once they were specks in the distance Nino lowered his arm. "Good luck with the council. Celestial paperwork is a devil."

@kagamiappreciationweek2020

[daddystevee]

Crashing Down

(steve harrington x hopper!reader / billy hargrove x hopper!reader)

BLEHHHHHH I’m having a REALLY hard time writing this rn, just because I feel like the story isn’t really progressing that much. And like i'm just going over parts of the show that has actually happened.. But i'm gonna keep truckin through i guess. I think this chapter is gonna be pretty long because im gonna try to get through a lot. There’s not a whole lot of Billy or Steve in this chapter but more like sister bonding with the girls <3 I dunno feedback would be greatly appreciated!!! <3 Thanks to everyone that's been reading it and thanks to @harringtown​ whose been supporting me through this whole thing. I honestly don't think I would be able to do this without her. <3 so go check her stuff out shes my main source of inspiration- also she's just the BEST writer like ever! She’s totally tubular. ;)

catch up here

Warnings: Curse words? Angst? I dunno anymore man.

Part 4/?

Word count: 2.1k (a big boy)

Summery: Sometimes things just don’t go as planned and your world just come crashing down, but it’s a good thing that you have people in your life to be there to catch you when you fall.

So there you were sitting on the counter in the back room of Scoops watching Steve pace back and forth, trying to understand Russian and eating a banana. 

Dustin cut off the recorder and asks Steve what he thinks about it. 

“Sounds familiar.” Steve says finishing off his banana. 

“What?” both you and Dustin say at the same time

“The music, that music right there at the end.”

You sigh heavily and put your head in your hands,

“Steve, you’re such an idiot.”

The two boys start arguing about the fact that Steve should be paying attention to the words not the music when you butt in again.

“I can’t take this shit anymore,” you said looking back and forth between the two fighting boys, “I’m going home.”

You push yourself up and off of the counter and start to walk out the door when Robin burst through the door clearly fed up and aggravated.

“Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there.”

She notices that her ‘You Suck’ board has been erased and looks at you as if you were the one to erase the board. You stick your hands up in surrender with wide eyes and looked back at Steve and Dustin.

“I guarantee you what we’re doing is way more important than your data.” Dustin said, looking to you for reassurance.

You just shrug your shoulders at him.

“Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyway?” Robin says.

You slowly start to back up towards the door with that question, “Yeah, I think I’m gonna go now..”

Once you make it out the door you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You hear Robin tell the guys that she’s fluent in 4 languages.

Dustin seems very impressed, “Russian?”

“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day” she says.

Both Steve and Dustin are extremely impressed by her fancy words, you pop your head back in the door before officially leaving to add a few words.

“It’s pig latin, for ‘you are dumb’, you dingus’ ”

They all turned their heads to look at you, Robin had a smirk on her face and sent you a wink while the boys had dumbfounded looks on their faces. And with your last few words, you left.

><

You walked out of the ice cream parlor and took a look around to see what you could do to pass some time.

After walking around, looking at a few stores you heard your name being called.

“Y/N!” Max screamed pulling El right behind her.

“Max! El? El, what are you doing here? You know you’re not supposed to be here right?” you asked Eleven, but looking at Max.

“SHE JUST- needed some girl time!” Max was quick to say, “The boys- they’re being real douchebags.”

You knew that all too well, especially with everything that’s been happening with Billy as of lately. 

“Yeah. We- wanted to go..” El turned her head to look at Max for reassurance. When max nodded her head, a smile creeped onto her face and she continued confidently, “shopping.”

You stood there with arms crossed looking at both of the younger girls. You remembered what it was like being their age, and you knew that the girls wanted to just have some harmless fun. So you smiled while rolling your eyes.

“Fine, BUT- only on one condition,” you started “you guys have to hang out with me.” 

The two girls both had giant smiles plastered on their faces. They looked at each other then looked back at you. They each took one of your hands and dragged you off to The Gap.

You and max both followed El around as she was looking around when she walked up to a display with a blue shirt with yellow, red and white lines on it. 

“Do you like that?” Max asks

“How do I know, what I like?” El responds

“You just try things on, until you find something that feels like you. Not Hopper, not Mike, Not Y/N,” she says as she points to you. You do a little spin showcasing your style, “you”

>cue shopping spree montage<

At the end of trying on lots, and lots of clothes El finally decides on two new outfits and a new romper. Max ends up with a new pair of sunglasses and you leave with a new hat and a few new shirts. 

You walk out of The Gap arm in arm with the two girls, giggling and smiling at each other like there is no one else in the world. The next thing you know, you’re being pulled into the Flash Studio.

You watch them dress up and take tons of pictures. Striking different poses and pretending to be someone else for the day. The even convinced you to take a couple of pictures with them. You truly were having the time of your life.

“How about some ice cream?” Max asks at the end of a fun filled day.

El looked at you with pleading puppy eyes begging you to say yes. She knew you wouldn’t say no to the puppy eyes.

You sighed and shook your head with a small smile on your face, “I don’t see why not.”

The three of you walk in to none other than Scoops Ahoy. You make your way up to the counter for the two girls to place an order. Right when Steve finishes making their cones and some other random cone Robin pulls open the divider,

“We’ve got our first sentence!”

“Really? Makin’ more progress than Harrington, huh?” you ask

“Can it Hopper” Steve says with a serious look on his face.

“The week is long” Robin says with a Russian accent.

“Well that’s thrilling.” Steve says sarcastically

“It’s progress!” she says before shutting the divider once again to continue her work.

Steve turns around holding three ice cream cones,

“Alright here ya go, you got a strawberry, and then a vanilla with sprinkles, extra whipped cream and a double scoop of peppermint stick.” he says handing the last cone to you.

The girls thank Steve but you just kind of look at him with a confused look.

“I didn’t ask for any ice cream Steve.” you say slightly confused

“It’s whatever, I know it’s like your favorite. On the house.” he says with a wink. He then turns to El, “Wait a second, are you even allowed to be here?”

Max and El start giggling and run away leaving you standing at the counter.

“Well, okay then.” he turns his attention to you.

“Guys, I think I’m just gonna hang out here until close! I’ll see you guys at home for dinner?” you half yell at the girls who are already out the door.

You walk around the counter and into the back room where Dustin and Robin were still sitting. They seemed to be discussing what they had found out and were trying to figure out what their next move would be. They just seemed to be all around struggling with the next few phrases. 

The week is long, The silver cat feeds, When blue meets yellow in the west. 

You weren’t sure if you should mention the fact that your mom, who knew Russian, taught you at a young age how to speak Russian, or if you should just wait to see if Steve remembers.

You choose to sit there and taunt them, making little side comments every now and then throwing them off track. The translation ended up taking well over 8 hours, seeing how they finished after the mall had already closed.

You all read out the whole phrase together for the first and final time for that day, the phrase didn’t really make any since, but you felt like this would be a good time to tell them what you had been hiding from them all day.

“You know we totally could’ve been done with this like 8 hours ago.” you say super casually.

“What?” the three of them as in unison looking at you like you were crazy.

“I mean you guys asked Robin if she knew how to speak Russian..” 

“But we never asked you- dammit!” Steve yelled.

“Steve, what’s she talking about.” Robin asks already kind of knowing where this is going.

“I’ll catch you guys tomorrow!” You say with a smirk grabbing your bag and heading for the doors.

“Holy shit.” Dustin says finally connecting the dots

“She knows Russian, (Y/N) fucking knows Russian! Her mom taught her when she was in like, the first grade or something.” Steve sighs as he puts his head in his hands.

With the biggest smirk on your face you were out the door and in your truck headed back to the cabin.

><

You walk into the cabin to music playing loudly, but coming from El’s room. You knock on the door a few times and you open the door to see Max dancing around and El looking through on of your older magazines.

“Hey guys, just wanted to let you know I’m here and was wondering if you guys wanted anything to eat.” you asked the two girls.

They both looked at you and shook their heads and then returned back to what they were doing before you walked in.

You closed the door and headed to your room leaving the door open in case they needed anything.

Suddenly you heard the music cut off but it was soon replaced with static, that could only mean one thing.

The next thing you heard was them giggling over whatever El had seen, putting a small smile on your lips.

There was a loud engine that sounded like it was pulling into the driveway meaning that your dad had finally come home for the night after his date with Joyce.

You emerged from your room to talk to your dad about how his night went. He was so excited to finally get to take her out on a date. But when he walked in the house, he obviously looked extremely drunk and would most likely be hungover in the morning.

He looked at you and then looked at El’s closed door, he suddenly became filled with anger.

“Hey- HEY! When I say 3 inches,” 

“Dad, wait it’s not what you-” you started to say as he marched furiously over to the door where he thought he would find Mike and El behind closed doors, “think.”

The door slams open and he finds not the couple, but only two innocent teenage girls lying on the floor looking at magazines and comic books.

 You stand there awkwardly with your arms crossed, watching as the mess of your father tries to hold a small conversation with the girls. He turns shuts the door and turns around to face you with a blank look on his face.

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” You ask rolling your eyes slightly annoyed but mostly playful.

Hopper just has this smug look on his face, he goes to the fridge crack open a beer and gets on his recliner knowing that the little stunt he had pulled with Mike had worked.

You were finally ready to retreat to your room when Max pops her head out the door and asks you if you want to play a game with them and you happily oblige.

><

You sit down on the floor next to the bed where El and Max have a poster with names written on papers and a glass bottle, it almost looked like they were playing spin the bottle, except they would be using Eleven’s powers to spy on people.

They spin the bottle once and it lands on Mr.Wheeler and they decide that he’s too boring to spy on so they spin again and it lands on Billy.

“I don’t know, this might not be a good idea” Max says

“No!” you say almost a little too forcefully, “No, I want to know what he’s been up to. I really haven’t seen him in a few days.”

El nods her head, and puts the blindfold on as you grab the radio from her dresser and put it on a channel with nothing but static.

The two of you wait in silence for a few minutes before El says that she’s found him.

“What’s he doing?” Max asks

“I don’t know, he’s on the floor?” El says kind of confused, ‘Talking to someone.”

There’s a long pause before she rips off her blindfold, breathing very heavily.

“What? What happened?” you ask.

She just stares at you with a distraught look on her face, like she had seen something, something she wasn’t supposed to see.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

As We Meet

$10 comission! @la-vide asked for Arthur first appearing in modern!reader’s home/first adjusting to the modern world. This came out to be 2,460 words and fun to write! This actually lingered in the back of my mind for a while, but this gave me an excuse to actually write it!

The sound of fumbling aroused you from a comfortable sleep. Though still dazed, you got up immediately. Your clock flashed 7 am, and you groaned in annoyance. Not how you wanted to wake up on your day off.

“Fucking cat.” You rasped, rubbing your bleary eyes as you padded over to your door. It was ajar, and you saw the little silver kitten dart into your room. “What’d you knock down this time?” You asked her, shooting Artemis a glare as she disappeared underneath your bed.

Yawning widely, you stepped out of your bedroom, expecting to see some sort of decoration knocked over. You’ve only had Artemis for a month and she seemed to be on a mission to destroy anything on high shelves, despite the large cat tree you’d bought when you first got her.

You rounded the corner to your living room, your eyes fixed on your carpet only to find nothing indicating any damage. However, what you saw instead caused you to freeze and slowly back up.

A man stood smack in the middle of your living room. Dressed in all black and facing away from you. Your heart thundered wildly in your chest, wondering if this man was a burglar, or worse. You knew some self defense, and hoped he was slower than you.

You regretted turning down your father’s offer about having a firearm.

You glanced around, hoping that you had anything that could be used as a weapon. Thankfully, a broken floor lamp sat in the corner and you grabbed it, silently thanking yourself that you hadn’t thrown it out yet.

Gripping the lamp hard, you whipped around the corner, ready to swing. The first thing your eye caught was the myriad of weapons decorating his upper torso and his waist, secondly, how broad he was.

He seemed to be alerted by your presence and he turned around immediately. His face was partially hidden by a worn black cowboy hat, and when you got a good look at him, something struck you as familiar.

His arms raised in the air in a sign of surrender. “Easy there…” he drawled in a deep voice, his accent strong.

Wait…

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” You demanded, tightening your grip.

“I ain’t lookin’ for trouble. Jus’ tryin’ to figure out where I am.” He explained evenly and warily.

That voice…

“How about you get out then?” You growled, trying to keep yourself focused.

“Can you jus’ tell me where I am, ‘sides your house?” The man asked. He lifted his head, allowing you to see his face fully.

You dropped the lamp in surprise, the bar clattering awkwardly against the carpeted floor. “Arthur Morgan?!”

He frowned. “How do ya know me?”

You must be dreaming. There is no way in hell a video game character would be real, standing right in front of you. You pinched yourself, and held back a small hiss when the stinging pain made its presence. Okay, this was reality. You weren’t sure how to respond to him, every word failing to form coherent phrases. Your mouth made a couple of noises detached from your brain. “Are you real?” You managed to splutter out.

He gave you a look of confusion, and spread his arms out as if to answer you. “Last time I checked…”

You could only stare. Just last night you were sitting on your couch and playing Red Dead Redemption 2, running as Arthur through the cobblestone paths of Saint Denis. Now, that same Arthur stood in your living room. You wordlessly reached out to him, brushing your fingers against his arm. He flinched from your touch, but he was solid. His skin was warm.

“Ma’am,” he said, stepping back from you. “If you could kindly let me know where I am so I can get back home?”

Jesus Christ, he was really real. You pursed your lips and told him the name of your town and your state, only to see his confusion grow.

“Seems far from Lemoyne…” he murmured to himself, and looked around your house. “Ain’t never seen any house like this neither.” He paused when he looked at your TV. “That some fancy new mirror?”

“Uh,” you chewed your bottom lip, thinking of your next few words. You decided to avoid the question. “Do you remember how you got here?”

He looked at you again. “No. Last thing I remember is goin’ to bed. Next thing I know, I wake up on your floor.” He continued to look around the room, seemingly more intrigued by the modern technology. “You didn’t kidnap me, didja?”

“No!” You automatically answered.

“Well, ya know who I am. Can’t be a coincidence that I end up in some stranger’s home that knows my name.” Arthur’s eyes narrowed.

“I…have heard of you,” you lied quickly. “But I don’t know why you’re here either. I promise I didn’t kidnap you.”

He stared at you with scrutiny for a moment, eyes traveling up and down your body. You were only wearing a tank top and shorts, and you felt naked under his gaze. Once he realized your discomfort, he turned his head away. Even in an awkward situation like this, he was respectful.

“I think I should get goin’, you gotta horse I could borrow or somethin’?” He asked, wandering over to a window and peered outside. You caught a glimpse of your car in the driveway, and he stepped back in confusion.”The hell is that?”

How could you explain to him that he was a video game character in the future? Hell, he wouldn’t understand the concept of a video game in the first place. “That’s…a car,” you said carefully. “No one uses horses to get around anymore.”

“Anymore?” He repeated, turning to look at you. “What do ya mean by that?”

“Arthur, what year do you think it is?”

“1899,” he said, though from his expression he seemed unsure. “Ain’t it?”

You shook your head slowly. “It’s 2019.”

“Two thousand…” he trailed off, his brow furrowing in thought. He was silent for a moment, though the frown on his face deepened. “So…I somehow jumped 120 years in the future?”

“I…I think so.” You sighed, scratching your head in plain bewilderment. How in the world did this happen? Why did it happen?

Arthur seemed to be at a loss for words, the exasperated look on his face told you everything that he couldn’t form coherent words for. You weren’t sure what to say to him either.

The awkward silence was broken by the sound of your phone ringing from your bedroom, and Arthur jumped. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Relax,” you said calmly. “I’ll go get that. You don’t go anywhere.”

It was your workplace calling, asking you to come in due to being short staffed today. You were quick to lie; explaining that Artemis needed to go to the emergency vet, feigning concern in your voice as you did. In the middle of the conversation, some movement caught your eye, and you noticed Arthur stood awkwardly at your door.

You hung up, turning to catch his gaze. He seemed to be fixated on your phone. “What’s that contraption?”

“A cell phone,” you said, throwing it against your bed. “You okay?” you asked, noting the troubled look on his face.

He sighed, hanging his head slightly to remove his hat. You’d realized with a jolt that he was just as you designed him in your personal game. The initial shock of his sudden appearance caused you to not notice it previously. That short, slicked back hair was something you favored. It certainly looked much better in real life. “Jus’…worried, I guess. Dunno how to get back to my own time, if I even can.”

Your heart sank for him. As confused as you were, it was even more confusing for him. He technically didn’t exist in this world, so of course there would be nowhere for him to go. You could only hope that this was temporary, and whatever magic sent him here would send him back to the game.

Until then, he would need a place to stay. “Well…Arthur, you can stay here for the time being. I mean at least until you manage to get back.” You offered.

He looked at you, an intense stare from those bright blue eyes shining in the morning light. His lips twitched for a moment before he responded. “That ain’t necessary. I think I put you off enough by bein’ here.”

You shook your head in response. “It’s not your fault that you appeared in my living room. But since you’re here, you need a place to stay. I’m the only person you know so far.”

“Hardly,” He chuckled without humor. “I ain’t even know your name.”

You told him your name. “Better?” you said.

“Miss Y/N,” he repeated thoughtfully. “I still don’t-“

“Listen,” you interjected softly, stepping closer to him. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, you continued. “The world’s a lot bigger than much different than what you’re used to. I can promise you that you’ll be better off staying here with me. I don’t mind, really.”

He stared at you silently for a moment, and you kept your gaze even with his. The sunlight highlighted his features; the faint wrinkles and the scar on his chin, his cheeks and jawline decorated with faint stubble.

He certainly was nice to look at.

“I…’spose that would be best.” He finally agreed, looking around your bedroom.

You smiled at that, glad he didn’t put up an argument. A movement by your feet caught your attention, you glanced down to see Artemis had left her hiding spot, and was now rubbing against Arthur’s legs.

---

That night, you went to bed expecting Arthur to be gone by that morning. Instead he was sitting on your couch, writing something in his journal. One day turned into two, two to three, a few days to a week. Whatever had made Arthur come to your world showed no indication of sending him back.

And what an interesting week it’s been.

You first started by introducing Arthur to modern gadgets. His curiosity of everything reminded you of a little kid, though you had to remind him to be gentle with some things.

“So, this thing plays anything you want, whenever you want?” Arthur had asked, gesturing to the TV.

“Mostly. Although with cable, everything is set on a schedule,” you pressed the on button on the remote. The screen came to life, and the first thing shown was a particularly gory scene from The Walking Dead. “Check it out.”

Arthur’s face quickly turned to disgust. “The hell they doin’ to that poor feller?!”

You laughed at his response. “Don’t worry, it’s all fiction. It’s just a show. That blood is all fake. And that guy – he’s undead. They gotta kill him before he kills them.”

Arthur just shook his head. “And this is for entertainment?”

He as certainly intrigued by the microwave, in complete awe that food didn’t have to be cooked over an open fire anymore. You taught him how to use it, making sure he didn’t burn the place down whilst you were at work.

He also loved the shower, mesmerized by the mere concept of having hot water on demand. His first shower lasted around 45 minutes, and you had to pound on the door to tell him that hot water wasn’t free. He walked out wrapped in a towel, as you’d placed his clothes in the wash prior to him getting in.

“That was amazin’,” he sighed, running his hands through his wet hair. “Don’t get cold after sittin’ a while like a bath does.”

You looked at him from head to toe. You’ve seen him shirtless before, for those bath scenes. You had to staunch the sudden desire to reach out and touch that scarred chest.

“Hey, my clothes done yet?” he asked, unaware of your staring.

You blinked and nodded. “Yeah, come on.”

After a few days, it was apparent that he wouldn’t be going back anytime soon. You’d stopped by a local Tractor Supply to buy him some new clothes, instead of wearing the same outfit every day.

He once asked for your phone out of curiosity.

“What’s it called again?” he’d asked, staring at it in his hand.

“A smartphone. It can do a lot more than call people, that’s why it’s called that.” You said, reaching over to scroll through the pages of apps.

When your hand moved, Arthur tried it on his own. He tapped the screen rather hard, opening up the camera that had been set in selfie mode. He let out a small yelp and dropped it in surprise. “It turned into a mirror!”

You laughed, retrieving the phone from his lap. “Nah, it’s the camera.”

He stared at you incredulously. “You’re tellin’ me…that it’s also a camera? The hell else is it, a telegraph?”

“Actually, yeah. Kinda.” You said thoughtfully, watching his eyes widen even further.

Leaving him alone the first day was concerning, however. Though he swore up and down he wasn’t going to venture out, the thought still remained in the back of your mind. You ran down a list of things he could and could not do, as if he were a child staying home alone for the first time. You tried to keep your worries out of the way while working, though it was a prominent thought up until you drove home, and you let out a sigh of relief to find your house wasn’t burned down, nor was he out and about.

After the first week, you were getting used to coming home from work to him. Usually you would find him on the couch, scribbling something in his journal or watching something random on TV. During the second week, he began to cook you microwave meals that were ready for you once you stepped in the door.

You chatted with him over meals, learning a lot more about him than you ever have in the game. He was getting more comfortable with you as well, his hands brushing against you nonchalantly, sitting closer to you on the couch. Those lingering touches would send a flicker of heat to your face, though you had to tell yourself not to get too attached, in case you’d wake up to find him gone.

Before the third week mark, you’d gone to bed with him on your mind, a whirlwind of thoughts cycling back and forth. Somehow in these past few weeks, you’d realized you began to see him in a different light. You fell asleep with his face in your mind’s eye, leaning in for a kiss…

[seekstrivefind]

can i get some jamilton laser tag????

You sure can! Disclaimer: I haven’t played laser tag in 15+ years and I haven’t written Jamilton ever.

Want a Hamilton mini-fic? Prompt me!

Jamilton, laser tag, 1907 words

“Okay, so. Here’s our strategy—”

Alexander’s jaw is set, brow furrowed in determination. He’sgot his vest strapped on, the blocky plastic laser-gun held across his body,and he’s addressing his friends like a general addressing his gathered troops.Lafayette is listening intently. Hercules is shoving John, who’s bouncing onhis toes, eager to get going and barely paying any attention at all.

“—how about ‘lose graciously’?” drawls a familiar voice frombehind Alexander. Alexander scowls. Hercules rolls his eyes and John gives anaudible ‘ugh’. Lafayette’s face lights up as he waves.

“Thomas!” he exclaims cheerfully, and then catches sight ofAlexander’s murderous expression. “Ah, sorry. I forgot; we are enemies.”

Lafayette taps the blue of his vest, and nods towards thered of Thomas’. Alexander lets out a steadying breath, and turns on his heel toface their opponent.

Thomas looks ridiculous. Despite knowing that they would bespending the afternoon running through a darkened room with laser-guns pointedat each other, he’s wearing a button-down and a tie. An actual tie. The veststrapped over the top tapers towards his narrow waist and hips, the laser-gunswings idly from one long finger. His hair is pulled back, something thatAlexander has seen only rarely, and it seems to accentuate the high line of cheekbones,the slender column of elegant neck, and did Alexander say ridiculous?Because he’s not even convincing himself. His scowl deepens.

“Any tips for losing graciously, Jefferson?” he snaps. “Ohno, that’s right—you’ve never done anything graciously a day in your life.”

“Never lost anything, either,” Thomas remarks coolly, oneeyebrow quirking up.

“Dunno, pretty sure you lost big when they were handing outfashion sense,” John pipes up from behind Alexander.

“Oh, you trained your monkey to talk?” Thomas remarks, fauxsurprise colouring his face as he presses his hand to his chest. “You couldmake real money off that little trick. Finally buy yourself a decent suit.”

“Fuck you,” John says, and Alexander hears a brief scufflethat sounds to his experienced ears like John Laurens being held back by oneHercules Mulligan. Thomas takes a step closer, and Alexander remembers to makea conscious effort to untie the knot in his tongue and come up with some wittyrejoinder.

“Yeah, fuck you,” is what he actually manages, which—notexactly his best work. But Thomas is stalking towards him with an almostmesmerising poise, and Alexander’s mouth is suddenly as barren as a desertwasteland. He swallows. It’s distinctly unfair that Thomas—an arrogant,pretentious, privileged son-of-a-bitch determined to put Alexander down to getahead—is also a complete wet dream, like somebody somewhere went down atick-list of Alexander’s desires and then slapped a faulty personality inlast-second.

Makes arguing with him properly real difficult, and this ishardly the first time that Alexander’s been trapped in the confused placebetween anger and arousal.

Thomas extends a finger, and prods Alexander in the chestwith it, leaning down so that they’re face-to-face.

“We all know who’s going to come out on top,” Thomas says witha smile, and Alexander sinks a sharp tooth into the side of his tongue in a determinedattempt not to think too hard about that phrasing. “Might as well cometo terms with it now, Hamilton.”

And then he’s gone, sweeping past them without even a secondlook.

“—well!” Lafayette says brightly before whatever collectionof inventive curse-words John has been stringing together can leave his mouth. “Ifor one am looking forward to this. Let’s go, shall we?”

Alexander, still glowering darkly and trying to calm the jitteringthump of his pulse, follows his friends without a word.

It’s chaos once the buzzer sounds. Any strategy they’d beenrelying on quickly falls apart as grown men and women start sprinting andshrieking, hammering plastic triggers and swearing sharply when their vestsflash to show they’ve been hit. Hercules ducks away without any of the rest ofthem actually noticing him go. John gets hit from behind and takes off with awar cry in pursuit of his attacker, determined on revenge. Lafayette is laughingdelightedly, and it’s not long before Alexander is separated from him, too.

Not that any of it matters. It’s just team-building,a stupid day out with colleagues that they’re forced to endure once a quarter.It’s laser-tag, for God’s sake, it’s for children. Except that the office livesand dies by the winners of the team-building games, and Alexander’s departmentare on a winning streak that he’s determined not to break.

He tucks himself into an empty corner, listening to the mayhemand deciding on his best strategy now that he’s alone. Points-wise, finding agood spot and staying put, sniping his competition as they move around isprobably the most efficient, and judging by the bedlam of the first sixty secondsof the game, they’re going to need all the points they can get.

He ducks out from the corner, advancing down a narrowcorridor, staying low. He hasn’t been hit yet, and that’s a badge of honour initself; a hard one to keep hold of in these games.

Alexander wouldn’t have noticed the branching corridor if anarm hadn’t come out of nowhere, practically clotheslining him before grippingthe strap of his vest and pulling him bodily into it.

“What the f—”

That’s as much as he gets out before there’s a hand clampedover his mouth, and Alexander is blinking rapidly up at the face of ThomasJefferson.

“You’re welcome,” Thomas says flatly. Alexander makes asound that’s close enough to what for, asshole? to be interpreted, and Thomastips his head just as a knot of red-team vests tumble past, whooping andhollering. It’s a long moment before he removes his hand.

“What,” Alexander repeats, tugging on the bottom of his vestto fix it, riding up askew on one side where Thomas had pulled on it, “is yourgame, Jefferson?”

“What, a man can’t do something nice for a colleague?”Thomas asks, and there’s a sharp glint to his smile, preternatural in theglowing blue lights of the course. Alexander narrows his eyes.

“A man? Sure. The devil himself dressed in a person-suit?Not so much.”

Thomas tuts, leaning back against the wall and folding hisarms as Alexander finishes brushing himself off.

“You think so little of me, Hamilton.”

“And every time I think I’ve hit the lower limit, you find away to prove me wrong,” Alexander mutters.

“You think I’m playing an angle?” Thomas asks, apparentlyexamining his fingernails idly, though the low light must make it impossiblefor him to see much other than the vague outline of his hand.

“Obviously,” Alexander retorts. Thomas pushes himself upfrom the wall, and Alexander steps back reflexively as Thomas advances on him oncemore. In this narrow recess, there’s nowhere much to go; he feels his back hitthe wall. Thomas doesn’t stop, not until they’re toe-to-toe.

“Then ask yourself this, Hamilton,” Thomas suggests, leaningone hand on the wall next to Alexander’s face and leaning close. “Why are youstill here?”

There’s a long and laboured silence, tense despite the lowthump of the shitty electronic music that’s being pumped in through too manytinny speakers, cut through by the sound of two dozen adults behaving likekids. Thomas is close enough that Alexander can feel the heat rolling from him,the warm dance of Thomas’ breath against his own lips. Another shift and they’repractically chest-to-chest, and either Alexander is having a delightful aneurysmor Thomas’ knee is pressing between his thighs.

Alexander swallows hard against the tightness in his throat,gaze hooked on Thomas’ own. And he might be imagining the feather-light brushof fingers against his hip or the way that Thomas presses yet another half-inchcloser, but he knows he’s not imagining it when Thomas’ eyes flicker downtowards his parted lips.

“You seem to know everything,” Alexander says, faintly. “Youtell me.”

Thomas kisses him with a slow deliberation that chafesagainst Alexander’s impatience. When he runs his tongue across Alexander’s lipsit’s with unhurried intention. He laughs, a low and curling chuckle thatAlexander feels echo between his ribs, rattling between his lungs, whenAlexander tries to push up against him, to coax something more urgent from him.Thomas won’t be moved, won’t be pushed. He only waits, smiling into Alexander’sfrustration until Alexander is forced to meet Thomas’ terms, to move at Thomas’pace.

Thomas finally licks in behind Alexander’s teeth, suckslightly on Alexander’s tongue, drags teeth against his lower lip, and Alexanderis almost dizzy with want, hands pawing slackly at Thomas’ chest, frustrated bythe bulk of the vest that means he can’t feel the smooth curve of muscle thathe knows hides underneath.

“You lose, Hamilton,” Thomas murmurs against Alexander’slips, half pulling back. Alexander chases the kiss, freezing when he feelssomething jammed against his chest. He hears the descending bleep, sees theflashing of his vest as it illuminates Jefferson’s predatory smile. “Again.”

Alexander looks down in disbelief at the laser-gun pressedagainst his chest, and then back up at Thomas.

“You absolute fucking cu—”

“—ah, ah,” Thomas says disapprovingly, presses his lips againstAlexander’s once more to cut off the obscenity. Alexander tries to bite down,to drag sharp teeth against Thomas’ lip, but he’s already pulling back, a lookof smug satisfaction on his face. “What I did tell you about losing gracefully?”

And then Thomas is gone, and Alexander stands there, utterlyenraged and hopelessly turned on, heart jack-rabbiting in the cage of his chestand laser-gun hanging loosely by his side.

Once the lights come back up, Alexander finds the others inthe lobby. John is wild-eyed, bordering on the manic. At some point, his hairhas come loose and his curls are splayed wide around his face, a mess of darkhair that Lafayette is laughing fondly over, doing his best to finger-comb itinto some semblance of order.

“Why the long face?” Hercules asks as Alexander approaches,knocking a punch against his shoulder that rocks Alexander onto one foot for abrief second. Alexander glances at the screen, where the team scores are yet tobe listed. It flickers to display individual high scores, and John whoops whenhis name appears at the top, punching both fists up into the air.

“I am amazed he did not get hurt,” Lafayette laughinglytells Alexander. “He was running wild; shooting people point blank. Like Rambo.”

“I wish they’d let you have two guns,” John says, mournfully.

“Hey, man,” Hercules says, pointing up at the screen wherethe teams have been ranked in order. “We won!”

There’s assorted whoops and groans throughout the room as people,breathless and sweating, celebrate victories or bemoan defeat. Money changeshands, as is common. Alexander catches sight of Thomas, vest and gun alreadyabandoned, talking to Madison. He notices Alexander, and grins widely, closingone eye and stretching out an arm to aim one finger like a gun right atAlexander’s chest.

“I’m not so sure,” he mutters to himself under his breath,and then deliberately turns his back to Thomas to watch John slap Lafayette’shands away from his hair.

“Celebrations are in order!” John proclaims. “Let’s get wasted.”

And yeah. Yeah, Alexander can get behind that plan.

[sykilik101]

Arguments

It's his fault. Yeah, of course it is. It's always his fault. It's not like I did anything wrong. He's the one with the map, not me. He's the one who's supposed to be leading us through this forest to get to Pallet Town. But he's still arguing back at me, like it is my fault. How can he be so dense, so stupid, so adorable…

Wait, that's not what I meant to say.

Okay, so maybe I did mean to say that. After all, how could anyone be mad at him after looking into his brown eyes? Those brown eyes that hold so much determination and passion. Those amazing brown eyes that I've fallen in love with…

Ack, pull it together, Misty! You're supposed to be mad at Ash, not thinking about how much you love the guy…wait, stop it! Argh, I can't take this! Why does he have to be so darn cute?

…okay, forget it. There's no point in trying to be mad at him anymore. Even when we argue, I can't stop thinking about how much I love him. Sometimes it's a real hassle, but at this point, it doesn't matter. Looks like Brock is trying to calm Ash down. Good, just what I need, a minute to clear my head.

Wait, what was that? Did Ash just…smile at me? It looked like it, but I only saw it for a second. What was that about? We just got finished with argument number 862 of our journey together, and he smiles? Wait, did I actually just remember exactly how many arguments we've had? I really have to stop being so exact with things…

Anyways, where was I? Oh, yeah, the smile. It's not like he enjoyed the argument, right? I thought I was the only person that did. Wait…well, I suppose that didn't come out right. It's not that I like making Ash mad. Heck, I don't even really like arguing at all. So why does Ash always get me so hyped up?

Like right now, we were arguing about getting lost again. Sure, most people should be mad when they get lost, but Ash…that boy just drives me crazy! I tell him that it's his fault we're lost, which is just an observation, right? I'm just pointing out a mistake he made; no big deal, since he makes mistakes all the time. Then he goes and starts yelling at me like there's no reason to be upset, when clearly there IS a reason, since we're LOST in the middle of the forest, with NO idea where to go, and the person who's reading the map of the forest just HAPPENS to be the DENSEST PERSON IN THE WORLD! Ugh, I need to go get some air…

It's weird, now that I think about it. While our arguments DO give me a headache after enough of them, sometimes…I like them. It's confusing. I mean, normally, when I'm arguing with my sisters or somebody else, I get seriously annoyed, and I just want to pummel them into the ground! But with Ash…sometimes, it doesn't feel so much like an argument. It's kind of like…a competition. Like he's challenging me, and he knows darn well that I don't back down from a challenge that easy.

Oh, hey, I didn't know there was a lake around here. Guess if I'm gonna get some air, it might as well be here. This log looks like it'll be a good seat.

So what was I thinking about again?…oh, yeah, Ash. Well, I suppose when we argue, it feels like he's trying to be better than me. Yeah, that sounds weird to say about an argument, but Ash is a weird guy. A sweet, caring guy, too…

Do I always have to think about why I love him? Honestly, I think I get the point already! I don't need any more hints!

Still, sometimes he acts weird during our fights. Every time I bring up my bike, he never talks about paying me back. He just whines that I'm complaining about it again. Every time I tell him he needs to pay me back, he changes the subject, or something else. Honestly, he goes about how he's such a good guy, always caring about his friends, and he won't even pay me back for my bike? What POSSIBLE reason could he have for not getting me another bike?

Well, I'll get one from him one of these days.

But what's even weirder is that…when we argue, I have fun. Wait, what the heck am I thinking? Fun in an argument? That doesn't work! But still…Ash is definitely a strange one. I get mad, but not an angry, gonna-pummel-him-with-my-mallet kind of mad. Okay, so maybe sometimes I do, but for the most part, I get excited when we argue. Most guys would probably just apologize if they made a girl mad, but Ash fights with me as if I were another guy. No matter what I do, Ash is always treating me the same. Maybe that's why I love him so much. We get along so well…okay, maybe not exactly, but it's like we…I dunno. Ugh, I have no idea how to explain it. It's kind of like…he completes me.

Oh, please don't tell me I just used such a corny and overused phrase! Get it together, Misty!

Well…it's not like it's a bad thing. After all, why should I be mad that I love Ash? Oh, wait, I remember now…there's no way he'd ever feel the same way about me. All he seems to care about is Pokémon training. I know it's not fair to be mad at him for it; after all, Pokémon training is his dream, and I admire that he's putting so much into it. I know it's selfish, but I just wish he felt the same way…aw, why is this so unfair? I'm in love with that raven-haired blockhead, but there's no way he'd ever love me back. That dense, dumb, stupid, sweet, caring jerk…how can he not see how I feel…?

…wait, did I just insult him, but not insult him? What's wrong with me? Darn you, Ash! Quit messing with my head!

Ugh…and no matter WHAT I do, it's like he never seems to notice me as something more than a friend. Kinda like back when we were at Maiden's Peak. I tried my best look pretty for Ash; heck, I even let my hair down. And I think he liked it…but he was also noting how pretty the other girls were. Sometimes I wish I could pummel him into the ground for being so naïve. My motive? You always hurt the ones you love. Yeah, that'll do.

…You always hurt the ones you love? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Enough with the cheesy lines, Misty! No wait, it's not my fault, it's Ash's fault. Yeah, of course. I almost forgot. It's his fault for being so easy to love. He does have a lot of bad traits, for sure, but he always makes up for it. He's handsome, sweet, caring, and he never gives up. He always put others before himself, and he never backs down from a challenge.

Wow, that was such a girly thought. Then again, I guess I AM a girl. I just wish Ash could see that, instead of just a friend. And I'm glad that we're friends…but I just wish we could be more…

Oh, great…stop crying, Misty…you have no reason to be sad…

I guess I'm just looking into our arguments more than I should. Still…I love him so much, and yet we keep arguing. Does that mean I don't really love him? And yet, I feel that he's more special than anyone. I couldn't imagine living without him, yet we always seem to end up fighting. But at least he doesn't soften when we get into an argument…winning would be too easy, and wouldn't be any fun.

Mmm…that breeze feels really good. Maybe I'll put my hair down for a while…yeah, that feels better. Now where was I again?

Oh, yeah. Still, even if I don't like our arguments, I do get angry with Ash sometimes, and I know I shouldn't. I just get mad when I think of how he doesn't feel the way I do, and I end up taking it out on him. I love him, and yet I hate him for not seeing how much I love him. Jeez, our relationship is so confusing…

Huh? Who's that?

Ash?

Wait, is he staring at me? He never does that…well, as far as I know. Hold on…he stared at me like that the last time I…had my hair down…oh, wow, I think my cheeks are getting warm…get it together, Misty. Looks like he noticed I saw him. So what does he want?

He's apologizing? What the heck is going on? He's never apologized about an argument before. Maybe Brock told him to. Maybe he just doesn't want me to be mad at him. Well, sorry, Ash Ketchum, but I'm not going to forgive you that easily…even IF you're looking at me with those adorable brown eyes…and that goofy expression…and…

Hey, hey, hold on, Misty! Don't let him get you again!

But, he really does look sorry…

No! Don't let him trap you! He'd just trying to get you down! He knows what he's doing!

…wait, WHAT? There's no way Ash could purposely be making me feel like this! He'd too dense for that!

Oh, why does he have to be so cute? Why can't there be something about him that I absolutely hate? Oh, right, it's Ash. It's freaking impossible to hate the guy. Darn him.

Yeah, yeah, okay, I forgive him. It's not like I can stay mad at him for very long, anyways. And being mad at him wouldn't help matters.

…no, I wasn't crying. What are you talking about?…oh, my eyes? I just had something in my eyes, that's all. No, I didn't just sob. Shut up, Ash! Stop knowing when I'm sad!

Okay, now why does he look a little embarrassed? Hold on…now he's moving towards me…

He's getting closer…

No, he wouldn't…

He couldn't…

And yet, he just did.

I can tell my face is red by how hot it feels, and how fast my heart is beating.

Ash Ketchum…

That kind idiot…

That caring jerk…

My dense best friend…

…is hugging me.

And now all my anger and sadness is gone, for sure. His hold on me is firm, but gentle. My head feels dizzy, and I can't think.

…oh, wait, that's probably because of all the blood rushing to my head. Y'know, maybe hugging him back would be a good idea.

I don't know how long we are gonna hug, but I don't really care. My mind is only on him. No arguments, no reminders of my bike, no pummeling him with my mallet…none of that. I feel happier than I've ever felt, and I know it's all because of him. This is why I know I love him. There's no way I can explain it, I guess.

Aw…I guess the hug's over. Thankfully, he's still holding onto my shoulders. His fingers are touching my bare skin, and I'm trying my best not to shiver. Darn you, Ash…how do you do it?

…okay, don't you EVEN flash that smile at me! Don't do it, Ash! Don't! DON'T!…too late.

Great, now I just wanna melt in this guy's arms. What a jerk…

Still, I love this jerk…

Hey, I think I heard Brock calling us. Now Ash is telling me we have to start back again towards Pallet. Darn it, why'd he have to let go of my shoulders?

Well, here we go again. We're probably gonna get lost again in a few minutes, or something will happen, and then we'll be arguing again. And I'll be going through this whole stupid thought process again. And then I'll be remembering one of the many reasons why I love him.

I love him because we argue. And I guess that's not so bad.

xxxxx

This is an older fic, so dunno if it’ll be as good as some of my current ones, but I’m rather fond of it.

[demon-slayer-imagines]

25 with Tanjirou pls

Heck ya! A tanjiro, lemme put on my good boy pants cause this is gonna be precious (or I’m gonna try and make it precious lol!)

“ You are my home”

“ tanjiro! Slow down please!” A child like voice whined out as pants could be heard when the fluffy haired boy came to a stop, turning around to look at his best friend behind him. “ you run too fast! I can’t keep up!” They whined, trying to catch their breath while tanjiro didn’t show an ounce of sweat or wear to him. “ how are you not tired?” “ I dunno, I just enjoy being out all the time. I do this every day! Traveling up and down the mountains with papa and mama helps a lot.” Hearing the voice of his mother up the hill call out for him and his friend to hurry on inside with the sun setting caused him to hurriedly take their hand and place them on his back. “ t-tanjiro! I can walk just fine!” “ I know, but we gotta hurry inside, I know your scared of the dark so I don’t want you out here when it gets dark. Your light anyway, you and Nezuko fit on my back perfectly!” Seeing you blush a bit made him blush as well, a small giggle leaving him. “ hang on tight, I’m gonna go fast!” “ ok!” And just like the boy said, he went racing up the mountain towards his home, without worry or a care in the world.

After that, you had left him and his family. Your family had moved away without telling him, and he felt broken without you. Who wouldn’t when it was your best friend leaving without a word to be said or at least a note, letter, SOMETHING! His parents never spoke of the reason why you left, simply saying ‘ they thought it best to see what else was out there,’ but he didn’t believe that tale for a minute. He knew you wouldn’t just up and leave for no reason, to see the world as they said, there had to be something else, some deep meaning to why you left that they refused to tell him. Even so he nodded his head and let it be left on that reasoning, until his family had been killed by a demon. After that, he knew deep down the reason you left had to be something had happened concerning some kind of demon. It was kami’s grace that the two of you found each other again, him a demon slayer and you a medic for the pillars. At first he didn’t recognize your face, but the smell, he remembered all too clearly.

The scent of honey with fresh laundry and a hint of cinnamon, he wondered if you had cooked recently, but he knew for a fact it was you. And you remembered him, you couldn’t forget that cute fluffy reddish black hair with that scar on his big forehead, not to mention the earrings he wore, you remembered those belonged to his father. Seeing each other again was a moment of shock and happiness. You never thought you’d see each other again, but there you all were, running and jumping into each other’s arms, crying and laughing about how much you missed one another and to never leave each other’s side again.

That was in the past, and now, here you were patching Tanjiro up for the hundredth time that week. The boy certainly doesn’t know the phrase “take it easy” and even if he did, he certainly didn’t abide by it. You were wondering how long it would be before you’d have to stop at another town to regather supplies for him and the others. Zenitsu and Inosuke weren’t any better either at keeping out of harm’s way, but that’s why the pillars appointed you to joining them on their adventures. “ there, all done.” Placing the last stitch through his skin, you quickly placed ointment on him and bandaged him up. “ arigato,” tanjiro give you a smile before waving his arm around, already feeling great after you patched him up. “ you know you truly are something else Tanji-san.” “ oh, thanks!” He thought it a compliment but it was more so a worried statement. “ it wasn’t a compliment! I know your a hard worker and wanna be helping others out but do me and yourself a favor and help yourself out by relaxing ya?”

The boy shrunk beneath his friends words, understanding where they were coming from and feeling bad for each time they had to patch him up for being reckless, but it came with being a demon slayer after all. “ what about zenitsu and Inosuke?” “ what about them?” You questioned as the boy looked around. They weren’t anywhere to be seen and you all were currently sitting outside of a hotel building in a busy town. “ don’t you think we should go looking for them? It’s so busy around her I’m afraid they’ll get lost...” “ they’ll be fine, I asked them to go pick some more medical supplies up for me before we leave tomorrow morning. Anyways, if they get lost I’m sure it won’t be hard to find them.” Helping him up and inside the hotel, they headed to the back where their room was, Seeing Nezuko was out and about looking out the window at the bright city lights that flashed every few seconds.

“ don’t forget to not sleep on it. If you do it’ll put pressure on your wound and you can reopen the stitches.” “ right!” “ also, make sure zenitsu puts a bit more ointment on you before you go to sleep!” “ right!” “ And-“ it was like a mother talking to her baby, but sometimes that’s just how yours and Tanjiro’s relationship was. Tanjiro was a kind and gentle boy, but jeez did he have a thick head, but you knew it wasn’t out of spite but more so carelessness and forgetfulness. He was truly a kind soul and everyone deserved a person like him in their lives. “ ok, don’t forget any of what I just told you.” Seeing him nod with small flowers float around him, you couldn’t help but sigh in defeat. He was way too cute for his own good, and you hated it. “ Nezuko, make sure your brother doesn’t do anything reckless tonight, ok?” Seeing her also nod with flowers floating around her, there was no doubt these two were indeed siblings. Both too good and too precious for this evil world.

“ even though you say you understand I don’t trust you...” you mumbled, bending down to set up Tanjiro’s bed for him, “ Ne, ne, you don’t need to do all that, I can do it!” Slapping his hand away, you pointed at him harshly as he stepped away while sweating. “ Gomen...” Watching you finish making the bed for him and grabbing his night clothes from the closet, you began helping him undress as he became frantic. “ I can dress myself ya know!” “ I know you can but, just... let... me..” Nezuko stood by and watched as the two of you became tangeled in each other’s limbs, falling down and hitting the floor roughly, Tanjiro under you as you gasped. “ tanjiro! Are you alright!” Sitting up, he looked up at you with a small blush on his face, your face just inches away from his. “ I-I’m fine.... are you alright?” “ yes, I’m alright... what did I just tell you huh? You could have hurt yourself again.” “ that’s fine, as long as you don’t get hurt.”

Your face flushed as he smiled up at you with his face bursting into red himself. Rolling off of him, you laid beside him as the two of you stayed quiet and just relished in the quiet of the night, the sounds of people outside and the city wavering in and out. You looked over when Nezuko laid down and scooted herself on the other side of Tanjiro. Yea, she was extremely cute. “ Tanjiro.... you really need to start being more careful. There are some injuries I just can’t fix.” “ I know.” “ And I don’t know what I’d do if you got seriously hurt.” “ I know.” “ Do you know tanjiro?” You glanced over to him as he looked up at the ceiling, nodding slowly. “ yea, cause... I would feel the same way about you if I was in your position.... even now I worry about you traveling with us.” “ how come? I can easily handle myself you know.”

It stayed silent for a moment, Nezuko shuffling around on the floor around them as Tanjiro thought about what to say. “ because, you and Nezuko... are my home.” Your eyes widened as your processed that, turning on your side to look at tanjiro. “ you and Nezuko are my everything. You all remind me of home, so when you all are around, I feel content and that nothing bad could happen, just like in our younger years. All I can do is feel happy and just cherish the memories we make with every passing second.” He smiled softly, his earrings ringing softly as he turned to look at you, placing himself on his side. Looking you in the eyes, he gently placed his head against your own, snuggling against you. “ without you, I’m never home. You are my home, my place I wanna be forever.” You couldn’t help but feel a burst of love flow through you, snuggling back against him and thanking him for his love and kindness. “ same goes for me, promise you’ll never leave ya?” Feeling him nod they couldn’t be more happy. “ ya, promise.”

[foolhardy-obsessive-and-annoyed]

Dean Winchester, do you believe in soulmates?

“Cas. Cas.”  Dean says, trying to get Cas’s attention.  “Dude we’re trying to come up with a plan here and you’re zoning out on us.” Cas’s eyes focus on Dean’s. His blue gaze was heavy. Dean raised his brows, expecting a response.  “Did you hear anything anyone just said?” Dean gestured to Sam and Sheriff Jodi Mills, who had come to the bunker for a case.  Cas stayed silent, returning instead to studying the wall. Dean sighed as if he were annoyed, but everyone knew the angel always got a pass.

Sam had disappeared into the Men of Letters library to research something or other, and Jodi had gone out on a food run.  Dean was heading to the fridge for a beer when he caught Cas standing in the kitchen. The same troubled air about him, gazing into oblivion.

“Cas, buddy, you alright man?” Dean leaned against the counter facing Cas, crossing his arms. Cas’s furrowed brow cast a shadow over his face.

“Do you think I’ll be alone forever?”  His gravelly voice was quiet. He finally turned to face Dean.  Dean’s mind reeled with what Cas was asking.

“What do mean? You aren’t alone? You have me. And you have Sam and the bunker.”

“That’s not what I mean, Dean.”  Cas said.  Dean was quiet, watching Cas as he tried to explain.

“Both you and Sam have known what it is to love someone. And I know you say that this life is too dangerous but…I just can’t help but wonder if I’m going to die without ever knowing what it’s like.”  Castiel studied the tile floor for a moment before returning his eyes to Dean’s. To his surprise Dean didn’t have anything to say, he wasn’t even looking at Cas. Usually he would’ve given him a solid clap on the shoulder and an optimistic one liner but Dean was silent.

“Have I made you uncomfortable? I’m still learning what is acceptable to ask.  You humans have so many rules on how you comport yourselves.”

“No. No,” Dean said quickly waving his hands in dismissal.  “It’s just, you’ve never loved someone? Ever? Even in heaven?”  Cas shook his head.

“No. Angels were not built to love each other anymore than you would a sister or brother.”  A quick smile broke out across Dean’s lips as he considered cracking a joke, but he quickly weighed the conversation and decided against it.

“I don’t know what to tell you man, I’m sure there’s someone out there-” Dean started in on that optimistic one liner.

“You don’t understand.  I don’t want just anyone. It’s all so....complicated.”  Cas seemed even more aggravated than before.

“Okay, I’m really not following.” Dean uncrossed his arms, gripping the edge of the counter.

“Dean Winchester, do you believe in soulmates?” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“I thought that was a heaven thing.” He said suspiciously. Cas shook his head.

“There were some matches made in heaven, yes.  But that’s not what I’m referring to.”

“So what exactly are you referring to.” Dean’s eyes were still narrowed. Cas sighed. He glanced up at the ceiling, trying to find a way to phrase his thoughts.

“Outside of heaven, or fate or any higher power.  Just, two souls that belong together.”  Cas watched Dean consider this. Dean’s green eyes flickered.

“I don’t know.”  He answered finally with a small shrug.  “I mean probably not. It’s a nice concept, but you know I’m not one for fate or destiny or any of that crap.”  Cas was silent. 

“Why?” Dean asked.  “Do you?”

“I don’t know.  I didn’t when I was in heaven, but being human...it has changed my perspective on many things.”  They we’re both quiet for a moment

“Dean, is it nice? To love someone?” Cas watched Dean’s face carefully. Dean looked taken aback for a moment.

“I mean, yeah. Yeah it’s really nice. It makes you selfless,” he said. Cas’s eyes got distant.

“Can you describe it to me?”

“Uh..”  Dean furrowed his brow, leaning backwards as though he were about to refuse, dropping a line about chick flick moments. But then he glanced at Cas, and his face got serious.  “It’s like every feeling you’ve ever felt all at once, and it’s all so intense and you just want to be near them all the time. You’d give anything for them.” Dean watched Castiel ponder this.

“Who was the last person you felt that way about?”  Cas tilted his head as he watched Dean.

“Uh, Lisa, actually.  Yeah,” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, trying to push away the deep sting he still feels after leaving them.  “But it was never right.  I never should have tried to have that life.  But she, and Ben, they’ll always be with me.  In a way I guess.”

“Do you still love her?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe.  I think in the same way Sam will always love Jessica.  But it’s in the past, and we can’t go back.”  Dean’s eyes were glazed over as memories he hadn’t seen in a long time began to play again.  Cas rolled everything Dean had said over in his mind.  The room grew thick with silence but it was a comfortable quiet they had grown to appreciate.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice broke the silence.  “Do you think we could be soulmates?” Dean looked at him in surprise, his green eyes wide.  He laughed nervously.

“What?”  He crossed his arms.

“It makes sense.”  Cas said, ignoring Dean’s fidgeting.  “I was the one who was sent to raise you from hell, I mean I-I gave up everything for you.”

“Look, and you know I’d do the same,” Dean started.  “But I just don’t know if that’s how it...works.”

“How what works, Dean?”  Cas watched Dean start to turn bright red.

“I dunno Cas!  How any of it works!  Would ya just drop it!”  Dean threw his hands in the air.  Cas wasn't fazed.

“It’d just mean we wouldn’t be alone,” Cas said.  This seemed to sober Dean.  He got quiet, remembering how desperately Cas was afraid of being alone.  Maybe even how afraid he was too.  He considered the angel for a moment.  Cas always resented it when they breached the subject of whether or not he would still be considered an angel.  To him, without his grace or his wings, he wasn’t anything.  But he’d always be an angel to Dean.

“You know what Cas, I think I’d like that.”  Dean swung an arm around his angel, clapping him on the shoulder and grinning.  Cas smiled back.

“So what now?  Do we toast?  Sacrifice a virgin?  Dance naked around a fire?”  Cas squinted, unsure if Dean was joking.

“Uh.  I’m not sure.  I don’t think so.”  He answered.  Dean laughed.  A real laugh.  The one where he throws his back.

“I’ll get us some beers,” Dean said cheerily, clapping Cas again.  He slid one across the counter, Cas caught it.  The drink hissed as Dean cracked his open.  He felt the happiest he had in a long time.  Light, even.

“Oh and Cas?”  Dean paused, waiting for Castiel to look up.  “Don’t you dare ever mention this to anybody.”  Dean took another swig from the glass bottle.  “Especially Sam.”

“Okay, Dean.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Rock music played in the background of the bunker.  The hunt had gone smoothly and Dean insisted they go hit a bar.  Sam protested, so Dean settled for two bottles of whiskey from a gas station and a night in at the bunker.  He even convinced Jodi to stay for a few rounds.

It wasn’t long before Dean was about 4 or 5 shots ahead of everybody else.  Sam and Jodi had gone back to beers, and Cas had taken one swig of whiskey before promptly decided that he did not like it.  Dean was slouched back in his chair, singing along to every song that came on.  Jodi and Sam were talking quietly over the table.  Sam hadn’t seen Dean this relaxed in years.  He couldn’t help but think it was odd, but he didn’t want to ruin it by asking either.  Sam got up to get another beer when he nearly knocked into Castiel who was emerging from the kitchen.

“Hey!”  Barked Dean from his chair, his word’s slurred a little.  “That’s my soulmate you almost flattened there!”

“You’re what?”  Sam asked, trying to hold back a laugh.  Even Jodi’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

“My soulmate Sammy.  Jeez.”  Dean took another shot of whiskey.  Sam looked to Cas with his brows raised.

“I don’t-I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Cas said.  Sam laughed, shaking his head.

“We sacrificed a virgin and everything.”  Dean chimed in again.

“Wow he really is drunk, isn’t he.”  Sam said, brushing past Castiel into the kitchen.

“Well boys, I hate to cut the party short but I’d best get going,” Jodi stood up, throwing on her jacket.  Sam popped out of the kitchen, bending down to give her a hug.  Dean stumbled out of his chair, and almost flat onto the floor.  Cas was the only thing keeping him upright.  Cas looked like an annoyed animal handler as he slung Dean’s arm around his shoulders.

“Good luck with him,” Jodi said to Cas, nodding to Dean’s slumping form.

“Hey!”  Dean protested.

“By Jodi,” Sam called as she trotted up the stairs.  Cas basically dragged Dean to the side of the room, dumping him on the small green couch Dean had gotten.  He had even set up a little TV in front of it.  Something about this place made Dean want to make it home.  Cas turned on the TV.  He always liked watching nature documentaries, but Dean would tell him to turn it off.  Something about how Attenborough’s voice makes him want to shoot something.

After Jodi left, Sam was cleaning up.  He was doing the final sweep through the bunker when he noticed the TV was on.  The screen flashed majestic shots of mountain ranges and cresting ocean waves.  Castiel was sitting on the couch, watching.  He started to walk over when he noticed Dean was passed out, slumped over on Cas’s shoulder.  Sam watched them for a moment before slipping down the hall.  He was happy for Dean.  He didn’t fully understand Dean’s relationship with Castiel but it didn’t matter.  It made him happy to see his brother so light and carefree after so long.

Dean stirred slightly, too drunk still to move his head from Cas’s shoulder.

“Hey, Cas?”  His green eyes fluttered open.

“Yes Dean.”

“I’m glad I’m not alone.”  Dean mumbled into Castiel’s shirt.  Cas watched him with his gentle blue gaze.

“Me too, Dean.”

[thesloppiestbitch]

Honestly - Roger Taylor x Reader Part 3

A/N: I know no one is really reading this series right now, but I’m enjoying writing it, and whether or not people are reading, I’m going to publish it because I enjoy sharing what I write with the world.  BUT, if you are reading this series, then thank you!

Summary: Meeting Roger Taylor was the best thing that’d ever happened to you. You were the happiest you’d ever been during your relationship with him, but when a “rumor” starts to circulate among tabloids, all your faith in the man is lost. You don’t know who to believe: your boyfriend, or your bother and multiple eye witnesses. Will you let the supposed “rumor” ruin the relationship you’d worked so hard to build?

Word count: ~1,700

Warning(s): Swearing, angst

Part One

Part Two

Masterlist

The pub was loud, filled with the sounds of drunks trying to find a one-night hookup, awful club music, and people trying to yell over all the noise to either talk to their friends or order a drink. Roger sighed, placing his head in his hands, as his elbows rested on the counter in front of him. He closed his eyes and tried to convince himself going out for a night would be fun, despite all the hell that surrounded him.

Just as he finally began to convince himself of this falsehood, a bright light flashed beside him and suddenly all he could hear was reports yelling over one another in an attempt to catch his attention. The only voice he was able to pick out was that of a man who sounded quite young; he repeated the same phrase, "Where's [Name]? Shouldn't you be out with your girlfriend? Has it ended between you two?" over and over.

Finally, he had enough, sitting up quickly and banging a fist on the table. "Will you shut the hell up? My personal life is none of your concern, let alone my relationship status! So, please, kindly fuck off before I beat your face in with one of these glasses," He slowly reached ahead, grabbing one of the empty glasses in front of him. "That goes for all of you. Piss off!"

The crowd scattered, surprising Roger. Usually it was more of a fight than that to get them to leave him alone.

"Everything alright, love?" An unfamiliar voice with a seemingly Scottish accent spoke from beside him.

He turned to look in the direction of the voice, seeing a woman a few years younger than him with bright red hair. "Yeah, everything's peachy, can't you tell?"

"Don't have to be rude there, love, just checking up on you. Seem a bit down in the dumps,"

"Look, I may have had a few drinks, but not enough to make me open up to a complete stranger. I'd appreciate it if you would leave me alone, please, I'm waiting for someone."

"Wife?"

He shook his head.

"Girlfriend?"

"No, but with any luck, she'll show up. I'm not looking for a hookup, but nearly everyone else here is, so I wish you luck."

She nodded. "I can take a hint,"

"Really? Cause if you could take a hint, you wouldn't still be sitting here, talking to me,"

"You make a solid point. But maybe something is just drawing me to you..."

He rolled his eyes, clearly getting nowhere.

"Please, just go."

She smirked, lightly booping his nose as she stood up, making him wrinkle his nose; partially in disgust with the woman and partially because he wasn't expecting it.

~

You saw the whole scene unroll from the doorway. You tried to convince yourself it didn't happen, that it was one sided, but you couldn't. All you'd been thinking about that day was seeing him and talking things through, but could you really do that?

Brian placed a hand on your shoulder, having seen exactly what you had. "I'm sure it's nothing. Why don't we go talk to him about it,"

You shook your head, locking eyes with the blonde from across the bar. He smiled and his eyes lit up when he saw you, but your face had turned to a cold expression as you glared at him.

His smile faltered when he realized what you'd seen. As you turned on your heel to leave, rushing towards the door, you heard both men calling your name, trying to get you to stop; Brian even tried to grab your wrist, but you weren't having it.

"Really? You couldn't keep it in your pants for one night? I told you she was coming!" Brian scolded once Roger had reached the front of he bar.

"Oh piss off, you know I'd never hurt her."

"Yeah, that's exactly what you said about your other girlfriends, which you then promptly cheated on,"

"[Name] is different, you know that. It was just some hussy trying to find a one night stand who wouldn't take a hint. That's all."

Brian nodded, believing his friend. "You'd better run after her if you think there's any chance you can save this relationship,"

"Shit, right!" He bolted out he door, without another word.

•••

Back at the apartment, you were hastily throwing clothes into a suitcase you had found in the closet, not really caring what you grabbed, just wanting to get away from Roger as soon as possible.

When you heard the door open and slam shut, you slouched back, rolled your eyes and audibly sighed. "Go away, Rog!" You called out, tossing one of your t-shirts into the suitcase.

"Listen to me; my side, yeah?" He said, appearing in the door-frame of the bedroom.

"And why should I? I saw it with my own eyes, Brian saw it. Why should I even give you a passing glance?"

"Jesus, that's a little harsh, don't you think?" He attempted to joke, hoping to lighten the mood, but you only glared at him. "Okay, in all seriousness, I don't even know what I can say to change your mind. You either believe me or you don't. I'm willing to fight for you, but if you won't fight for me, then I don't know what to do,"

You scoffed, tossing down a pair of shorts. "You have got to be joking," You spat. "I've overlooked all the rumors that have followed you for years! When your fans come up to me, claiming to have been one of your hookups on tour, I overlooked it because I knew you'd never do something like that. I knew you loved me too much to break my heart in such immature way, but now... There's pictures, my own brother and best friend have told me what they saw, I saw it with my own eyes tonight! So don't you dare say I haven't fought for you or this relationship! I loved you, Rog, I really thought you could've been the one, but clearly I was wrong."

You glided across the room to the closet to grab a hoodie; when you turned around to toss it into the suitcase, you saw Roger standing over it, eyes locked with yours, as he pulled clothes out. His expression reminded you of the look a cat gives their owner before they knock something off the counter.

"Stop."

"Stay."

"No,"

"Then no."

"Roger, stop being so childish!"

"Me? Me stop being childish? You're the one throwing a tantrum because you saw something you didn't like!"

"Insulting me really isn't the way to get me back,"

"Implying there's a chance," He scoffed. "Give me five minutes, that's literally all I ask of you. Then, you can leave; I just need you to hear me out,"

"You keep saying that, assuming it'll change my mind."

"Hasn't it?"

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Go."

He went on to explain the scene at the bar, beginning from where you'd missed and ended just after you ran out; he strategically left out his short talk with Brian, fearing it may upset you more.

You wanted so badly to trust him, to fall into his arms and cry, apologizing a trillion times for your overreactions, and you almost did. The only thing that stopped you, was a small piece of paper that you saw poking out of the pocket of his black bomber jacket.

"What's that?" You asked calmly, attempting to mimic his calm tone.

"Hmm? What're you talking about, love?"

"There's a piece of paper sticking out of your jacket. Do you mind if I look at it quickly?"

He shrugged, grabbing it and holding it out to you. "Be my guest."

You mumbled a thank you under your breath as you grabbed the paper. Your eyes scanned over it, seeing it was just a schedule for band meets. You sighed in relief as you flipped it over, seeing the name Jaime and a phone number. Inhaling sharply, you handed the paper back to him. "Who's Jaime?"

He looked confused. "Jaime?"

"Yeah, she seemed to like you enough to give you her number on the back of your schedule."

"Jesus, Fred," He mumbled under his breath, snatching the paper and flipping it over. "[Name], this is Freddie's jacket, it's gotta be a number someone gave him that he forgot to taken out!"

"Mmm, and I suppose Jaime isn't the name of the girl I saw you with at the bar?"

"I never got her name! I turned her down and saw you, remember?"

You nodded, wrapping your arms around your torso. "I think I need a few more nights to myself, if that's okay."

"I really think we should keep talking this out, [Name]—"

"Really? I disagree." You spat angrily, quickly tossing the clothes he'd pulled out back into the suitcase and sipping it up before grabbing the handle and marching out the bedroom door.

"Hey! That's my suitcase, you can't just take it!"

"Oh piss off, I'll get one of the boys to bring it back for you. Or, better yet, I'll call Jaime and she can!"

"Oh for God's sake, let it go! I've been with you and you alone for two years, why the hell would I suddenly change my mind over night!"

You reached up, scratching your head with your free hand. "I dunno, Rog!"

"Then stay and we can work this out!"

"No! I can't be in a relationship where one person values the other more than they do them, cause you know damn well I've been in too many of those! I honestly thought you could be the person I spent the rest of my life with, but now I can't even stand to see your name pop up on billboards or hear a Queen song on the radio. You're really playing with fire at this point, Roger, so I suggest you let it billow away before it sparks a forest fire."

He was taken aback by your words, so he just simply nodded and gestured to the door. "At least let Brian know you're safe when you get wherever you're going so I'll know."

You nodded. "I will. Goodbye, Rog."

With that, the door shut behind you, leaving Roger an emotional mess as he stood in the pathway between the hallway and the porch. He knew now that he'd really fucked up. He'd lost the love of his life, all because of some bad coincidences.

And now he didn't know if he'd ever be able to get you back.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Blue Shoes, CH1

Genre: wlw, urban fantasy, supernatural

Words: 3.7k

Summary: A story of a werewolf that is becoming more wolf than girl and a witch with no powers waitressing at a local diner.

How do you save someone from them self when both parties are particularly hard headed and prone to pouts of self-destruction, a study

Tipping:

Ko-Fi ⭐Patreon ⭐ WordPress  

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Chapter 1: The Girl at Table 12

warning for mentions of past injury and puking

-

When I was seven I passed a cat huddling from a thunderstorm under an old brown truck. It was a gnarled brutish thing with wet fur plastered to it’s back and mud caking it’s side. It must have been caught in a small mudslide or maybe crawling through the trenches of Vietnam. One or the other.

It had deep cuts on its forearms, stark indents that stood out against it’s grey fur, I couldn’t tell if they were new or not. Some of its whiskers looked like they were singed off- by fire or bad kids or a world that threw cats to the devil and locked the door.

Under the mud there were obvious mats and tangled fur that weighed heavy on it, making it look beefier than it was.

It’s eyes were angry slits and teeth bared like a barbed-wire fence, at the time I approached the battered cat because that was the sort of girl I was back then. I put my hand out and looked at it’s huddling mud streaked body, I waddled closer to the car and peaked underneath, “The rain will stop soon.” A promise. The cat hissed softly, it’s lips pulled back against sharp yellow teeth and eyes glowing amongst the dimness. I adjusted my little pink raincoat and don’t even cry when I hear another thunderclap far away.

The cat doesn’t budge, I stick my bottom lip out.

“Come on kitty,” I reached out under the truck, maybe I planned to grab it by the scruff like I’d seen mama cat’s do with kittens. Maybe I thought it needed a hug.

It’s hard to remember exactly why I wanted to touch the mangy thing, but the pain was hard to forget. A red hot sticky shock that shot across the center of my hand, a long bloody gash across the back that tore deep into the skin. I screamed and jumped back, reeling from the attack, the cat hissing loudly and arched it’s back as it stayed in place.

That’s the day I got my first rabies shot.

That cat was mangy, wretched, and looked like it had gone through basic training with a wind storm. I remember that cat when she walks through the door that night and a single thought goes through my head: she looks worse.

-

It was 3am, closer to 4, and I my eyes were unfocused on a TV monitor as an ad for a bowflex machine comes on. Just 29.99, order now.

We had been watching Comedy Central a second ago but Bernie had heard a word bleeped out and reminded us this was a family establishment. I snorted, because it wasn’t like any kids were hunkering down with us right now.

She came in just as the bowflex lady stretched her muscles and smiled into the camera, sparkling. I was in an ad-induced stupor by the counter at the time- still sulking from having lost the rock-paper-scissors tournament 3 hours ago.

It had almost turned into a knife-fight when Bernie had announced one of us could go home early, meaning avoiding the curfew and not being trapped in here until sunrise.

Of course, I would have been here anyway, I needed the extra shift, but it was the principle of the matter. Being forcibly locked into your place of work with customers was probably one of the rings of hell.

The girl who walked in through door probably had seen some of those rings and then some. I could have gotten her in trouble for escaping around past 11, but I wasn’t about to call the sheriff or curfew hotline or whatever it was they set up.

I blink a couple times and go very stiff.

My mouth hung open and one of the few patrons in the joint gasps lowly. It was the heavy-smoking lady who had been murmuring to the busboy about her lousy husband and last divorce and bad hay fever for hours now.

She falls silent, I blink again.

The figure’s clothes are torn from Sunday to Tuesday, long strips of dirt-caked fabric trailing on the ground after them and hanging loosely off the person’s body, like mummy wrappings. Under the clothes is muddy-cracked skin and visible small cuts.

Her posture was loose and weighted, like something immense rested on her shoulders tops and unbalanced her spine.

She sagged at every corner like a tattered doll filled with sand, her face was covered by chin-length dark hair that was also full of dirt clumps and at least 2 twigs and a couple crumpled leaves. Her head hung almost to her chest and I can’t make out her expression.

I squint my eyes at it all, of course this would happen at 3am. It was always something.

“Are you... okay?” I ask cautiously and wait for something,

She was barefoot and limping toward the counter, I stand up straight and summon up the ancient words: ‘sorry ma’am, no shirt, no shoes, no service.’ But the words don’t come and she keeps walking. I catch her eyes for just a moment as she passes, the briefest heart beat as she glances up through her dirty  bangs. Her gaze is dark and bloodshot, veins as bright red as hot irons.

Red as harlot’s lipstick, red as a cardinals breast, red as sin and every time I cut my knee in gym class.

“Fine,” she says in one breathless tired word, finally answering my question and then turning away. She didn’t look fine.

She limps toward the very distant corner table and collapses into the booth, I’m remembering that damn feral cat that mauled me.

“Ronnie,” I turn around in tight circles and try to locate the busboy on duty, he’s standing slacked jawed at the other side of the room. I bustle over in his direction. “Where’s Bernie?” I hiss at him, moments like these made me grateful for a manager.

Ronnie just looks at me dumbly and his eyes dart back over to the new customer. “Casey...”

“Excuse me,” I hear a ragged thin voice croak across the small diner, it sounds like it’s been dragged across the ocean floor- full of salt and brine.

The two homeless men and Dolores eye the newcomer. She seems to sway back and forth in place, “Could I have a water?”

I turn my head slowly, the red bloodshot eyes coming for me again. They are hazy and sunken into her head, like shadows of themselves, I flinch.

“Uh,” I clear my throat.

“If you could… please,” the voice says faintly, I hear someone moving before I do.

Ronnie pivots toward the kitchen and quickly brings out a glass of tap water, he always was a better person than me with his small face and large round blue eyes. He flashes me a look that says he’s not going to be covering my tables all night though.

I take a deep breath and turn toward the kitchens, “Bernie,” I call out and make a beeline for the freezer, “Bernie, we have a thing.”

I wander in past the grills where our one chef on duty is filing her nails down to a blunt point, we ignore each other. Sam immersed in trying to rid herself of fingertips and me in trying not to get lectured on etiquette at just that moment. I hear coughing from the back room and make a sharp turn, kicking a box aside as a reach for the door.

I yank the pantry open, “Hey!” I say loudly as an older woman with a pinched look on her face sits up. She has tight steel gray curls and a flat-iron mouth that didn’t lend itself to smiling.

She shifts her generous body toward me, turning on the floor and facing the light. Her curls are flat on one side where she must have been napping on a sack of potatoes.

“It’s my fucking lunch break,” she says waving her hand in the air, “go handle whatever it is on your own.” I set my jaw, “someone just walked in from, I dunno, the set of a disaster movie,” I shift from foot to foot, “she might be tripping or something.” That should get Bernie’s attention, I would bring up the bloodshot eyes in a moment I needed to.

“Casey,” Bernie says slowly, pitchedly, “you can either handle it or handle my foot up your ass. It’s been eight hours since my last break.” The ‘fuck you’ energy was very high in the air and I take a deep resigned breath.

“If I get stabbed tonight I’m suing,” I say with my shoulders hunched and back straight, Bernie chuckles.

“Duck and weave my girl,” she shakes her head, “it’s not like we haven’t had transients in here before.” Bernie was closing her eyes again, I only sigh. “Handle it.”

“Yeah, but most of them don’t have ‘murder scene’ written all over them.” The rabies shot in the ass feels like a phantom pain right then. Bernie rolls over and starts ignoring me.

I reluctantly wander back into the main area and try not to look into the corner, Ronnie is still eyeing me. His chin is jutted out and he doesn’t stop looking very fixedly in my direction.

“What?” I finally ask and Ronnie raises his eyebrows and his eyes dart over to table 12.

“That’s your table.” He says in his pale, quiet voice.

I grind my teeth, “You’re the one that served her!” I murmur lowly to him and he wrinkles his nose. “You want me to tell Louis you’re shirking your tables again?” It was a threat, his huge eyes shrinking into darts. He reminded me of a little brother threatening to tell mom and I straighten my back.

“Whatever,” I turn away and clench my hands, “fine.” It’s not like I hadn’t handled worse, it was Gilford.

I meander my way back over to the war-zone victim and raise my eyebrows.

She lifts her head slowly and I see thin cut marks along her chin and cheeks. I take my place next to her and lift a notepad up and give a smile, “Welcome to Sue’s Diner, can I get you anything?”

I input the usual phrase and watch curiously to see what would come out.

The girl was already done with her first glass of water, I made a mental note to go get another one along with filling up Arthur’s coffee cup on the way over.

She seems to swallow dryly and I wait for a good minute before anything actually happens. Her eyes are dull and distant, like looking off into a dark ocean. I have a strange memory of one of my classmates having this same look on his face when he was trying an experimental drug called ‘Eevee’ for the first time.

She swallows again and her head tilts to the side, “are you Sue?” I make a face, I had gotten that question before. I lean over her instead, “nope,” I put on The Usual Smile, “jus’ the next best thing.” The girl gives me a lost, almost desperate look, her eyes glaze over and I wait another long moment. “Casey.” I glance down at my employee name tag, “that’s me?” It was a question. Somehow her demeanor was making me feel a little lost too, was I Casey? Was I in purgatory? Was a stuck in a diner with a bunch of strangers and someone probably on the worst drug-trip of their life? Possibly.

It was Gilford.

She reaches out and I take a mild step backward, I don’t know what she’s reaching for, but she comes up empty and then slumps over again.

“Uh,” I take another step back, she reeks of fresh earth, blood, and something I might describe as ‘fungus.’ I consider really calling the cops, she was out past curfew and… up to something, but I’m also not in the mood for making a statement to the cops.

She retracts her hand and takes a deep rattling breath, she looks around, “Can I have an omelette with… eggs?” I take it as a good sign she’s still talking, a bad sign that she was about to make Customer of the Month (a little award among the staff to counter ‘Employee of the Month’).

“What type, hun?” I ask slowly while her looks like her head is about to spin, I wait. “We have Denver Omelette, Vegetarian Omelette, Egg-ceptional Omelette, Pennsylvania Delight, and Mexican omelette.” She nodded her head up and down continually as if processing that and I was afraid it might get stuck in that motion. Another long awkward pause descends.

“What was the first one?” She finally asks.

“Denver Omelette.” “And second one?” She was definitely winning Customer of the Month. I smile instead, “Veggie.” She lulls her head back and seems to contemplate the ceiling, this was taking a lot of waiting.

She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite?” “Oh,” I pretend to think, “If you’re looking for eggs, the Egg-ceptional one is the one for you.” The girl looked ten seconds away from passing out, “can I have that… and pancakes. And hot chocolate. And bacon. And another omelette.” I write that all down and I have feeling I was about to experience Dine and Dash or Dine and Die on Me. “How will you be paying today, cash or credit?” I should at least check.

I raise my eyebrows when the girl pulls out a muddy wallet from God knows where, she yanks out a filthy fifty from the front pocket. “Cash.” She puts her down on the table. “And just… call my name when it’s ready.” “And what’s your…?” The girl’s head was on table, “What’s your name hun?”

She had stopped responding, her messy hair was splayed out on the table and forehead pressed down into the wood.

I consider poking her to check her vitals or something, but touching a sleeping Dirt Monster was also a good way to get stabbed (pictured: waitress, listening to bowflex commercials, pictured: waitress making headlines as ‘cute latina girl in a tragic dirt-and-knife-and-poking accident’).

I turn around and go stiffly back to the kitchen, I knock on the walls as I walk in, “We got an order Sam.” Sam Honey sticks her head of the kitchen window, done with her nail business it seemed.  “Lovely!” She was always way too cheery for night shifts, I had a few theories on this but none of them held much water. “I was getting so bored back here.”

I hand over the paper, “don’t spit in it or anything. This ones a livewire.” “Never, I would never,” she looks actively appalled at the idea, giving me the Come to Jesus look and then disappearing with the order.

I hear the shuffling of feet and Ronnie makes it to my side again, like a little shadow that was happy to appear and disappear according to the rules of Social Anxiety.

“Did she say anything weird to you?” He asks curiously.

I shrug, “like what? ‘My shower broke and hey, a diner seemed ideal right now.” “She on something,” He frowns, “cocaine?” I give a thin smile, “My money is on acid.” Sam comes out in a few minutes and she bets on really strong weed. I roll my eyes at that and we get a small pool going.

---------------------

I was shifting from foot to foot.

Hrrrrrnk

I wince, a loud snore fills the restaurant.

Hrrrnk

I hold the plates of hot food a little higher. “Okay,” I breath deeply but not through my nose, “alright.”

Hrrrrnk

She sounded a little like she choking on a piece of wet paper while snorting a packet of koolaid (something I had done and was not proud of).

I bump the side of the table with my hip, “hey,” I bump a little harder, “foods here ma’am.”

I don’t get so much as a wiggle from her, I wrinkle my nose, I didn’t plan on touching her at that exact moment. I put one plate of food down and reach for a sugar packet.

“This is for both of our own goods,” I shake the sugar packet, “so like… you should still tip.” I throw the sugar packet directly at her nose, she twitches.

“Hey lady!” I say again and throw a second sugar packet at her. “Come on.” Third sugar packet.

“Ah!” The packet bounces off her chin and the girl startles awake, throwing herself completely backward and her red eyes darting around quickly. Her chest heaved as she look back and forth, “where the hell am I?” I take a deep steady breaths, maybe she was better now. “Foods here.” I deposit the large tray of eggs and pancakes and a hot chocolate in front of her.

She blinks a couple times, seeming to process this. “Thanks.” I just nod, “there you go hun. Take your time.” It was almost 5am by then, one more hour of the curfew and then I could go home.

She just blinks one more time and picks up a fork with her dirty hand, I contemplate pointing out we had a perfectly good bathroom to wash her hands in.

The girl was already shoving food into her mouth, “it’s June.” I pause, the girl was halfway through choking down one of her omelettes, she mumbles, “June.” “Okay?” “For my name,” she says slowly, “when waking me up. You could have called June.” I just nod ever so slightly, “I’ll keep that in mind.” I turn my back on the odd girl and let her continue eating or whatever it is vacuuming up eggs into your mouth is.

I fill up another coffee cup for Arthur and slip back behind the counter, I exhale deeply as I see the back of Bernie’s head, finally come from her lunch break.

“Looks like we have a full staff again.” I say loudly and see Bernie whip around to look at me.

Her mouth is a hard line, harder than usual, “Get rid of that one.” My heart drops into my shoes, my brow folds in, “you told me to handle it.” I feel like a five-year-old stomping her feet at her mom. “I did. Plus, she does have money.” “I can’t expect you lot to take care of anything, can I?” Bernie was keeping a fine curdling glare on her face, “bunch of incompetents!”

I imagine retracting my hands around the older woman’s throat, “I handled it.”

Bernie keeps going, “She’s not wearing shoes!”

Ronnie shifted back and forth, “she’s got money.” Bernie tuts, “no shirt, no shoes, no service, how hard is that? And what if the sheriff comes in, we’ll have to explain letting in curfew-breakers.”

I make a face, “it’s not like we have to tell them.” Bernie was still mumbling to herself, “and what were you betting on with Sam? Cocaine? Whiskey? Weed? I don’t need that nonsense here.” I could have groaned so loudly my soul left my body, “look, she’ll just eat and leave.” I fold my hands over my chest, feeling the need to defend my choices. “It’s not a big deal.” Bernie grumbles at me, “Casey, what did I tell you? Handle it, did you? No.” I push my sunflower-yellow hair away from my face, “seriously?” She folds her arms over her chest, “seriously.”

I growl, “what do you want me to do?” Bernie jabs her fingers toward the table, “get her out, call an ambulance, do something like you should have done before.” I groan loudly and get torn between making money and joining a ‘punched your boss before you starved on the street’ club. It we weren’t all stuck here and if I wasn’t one of the few people who was long-term at this job I might have had a go at her. Instead, all of our sleep-deprived asses mentally flip each other off and go our separate ways.

The girl is still eating.

Bernie pokes my side before she leaves, “now.” I push my hair back in frustration and go little by little back to table 12. It takes all my willpower not to just take my apron off and declare myself jobless.

I creep up to the same table again, she’s eating slowly, taking one huge bite after the next, stripping pieces off and chewing meticulously, like it hurt her. She is just as worn and malaise as before.

I clear my throat and wait for her to look up.

Like before, she takes a clean minute to lift her head. “Hello?” She seemed lost again, I huff tiredly. “We’re closing in a few minutes.” It was a good a lie as any.

The girl, June, looks back in a daze. “I have money.” “I know.” I itch my wrist, “we’re just… closing.”

“Can’t go.” She keeps eating, “I need… this.” I rake a hand through my split-ends, which were plentiful after too many dye jobs and not enough conditioner.

June was still taking even ginormous bites, I square my shoulders.

“I can get you like… five more minutes, but you do have to leave. The pool should have local showers? Only a few bucks. You could go there.” She shakes her head, “where is this?” She asks in her same cracked, weary tone.

I tilt my head to the side, “the pool is down Warring street and-” “No.” She pauses and covers her mouth, “where is all of this?” “Uh,” I scratch the back of my neck, “Gilford.” She raises her eyebrows, “oh,” she says slowly, “good.” I make a face, I rarely ever heard someone be happy to get stuck in Gilford. I examine her one last time, “the sheriff comes around at 6.” She takes another long moment, “Cool.” “You might want to head out before then.” Her big hazy eyes look back at me and we exchange a very long look, maybe I’m looking for white powder under her nose or the smell of skunk. She covers her mouth again.

“I don’t feel well.” “I know,” I try to sound soothing, “do you need to call someone? We could get you someone.” You just need to go.

She just shakes her head, “Waitress, Casey, I.” “Yeah?” I ask cautiously, June sways back and forth, I prompt again, “yes?”

She looks up at me, eyes empty and distant. “You’re beautiful.” Her face was pale and empty. I tilt my head, “You don’t look so g-”

The girl violently jerks forward and a loud retching wet sound follows, I don’t have a second to react as warm lumpy liquid cascades down onto my blue converse. Eggs and pancakes and hot chocolate slurry hits my shins and my entire body seizes up.

My face contorts, “fuck.”

That’s how I learn the lesson about large feral cats all over again.

[belladonnaandulriched]

the artist | chapter twenty

Joey ran his fingers through his black curls once he stood back upright next to me. It was like he had been put inside of a spin cycle and then hung out upside down: his face was flushed and warm with a nice glow from our encounter. He showed me the cute little hole in his teeth as he flashed a grin at me.

“Wanna see, though?” I offered him as he put his shirt back on.

“Ya know I would,” he teased me. Nothing could deny the look of utter euphoria on his face, between his parted lips and his closed eyes, between his hair fanned out from all around his head and the fact I had painted his neck down to the crease near his collar. I made sure his skin was as smooth as it appeared in person, but I knew for a fact there was no way I could show this in the gallery. Not with people congregating in there. Not with Chris in there.

Joey let out a low whistle and ran his hand down his chest and his stomach.

“I'm ready for a full on breakfast, dunno 'bout chu,” he confessed to me.

“Fill that gorgeous little belly with all kinds of good stuff?” I teased him.

“Really wanna—a, uh, cuppa coffee right about now.”

“A cup of Joe?”

“That's cup of Joey to you,” he corrected me, to which I giggled at him.

“So where should I put this painting here?” I asked him.

“You gotta hidin' space in here somewhere?” he retorted.

“Yeah, over by this table here—I've got the other one of you tucked away in here.” I took the painting off of the easel and headed over to the table. The paint still had plenty of time to dry off, which meant I couldn't tuck it away in that cubby hole underneath the surface. I inched closer to the corner of the table so as to lean the painting against the table leg: it would appear to be just another painting in that room and out of sight, out of mind. I arched my back just a little bit but I knew it was enough for him to have a view of my ass.

I could feel him watching me as I slipped the painting behind the table legs.

When I stood back upright, I brought my hands to my back pockets so he could fixate on them. Even though I was still underage, I wanted him to have a look at me. I wanted Chris to have a look and I also wanted Joey to have a look.

“Take yer time, baby doll,” he encouraged me.

“My ass is a work of art, isn't it?” I said back to him as I ensured the painting was safe behind the table legs.

“Your ass and your back, too. I just wanna run my fingers down the curvature o' both. Yer like a—a, uh—I wanna say a sculpture. I wanna touch you like you would a sculpture.”

I lifted myself up and whirled around to face him.

“Not now, big boy,” I scolded him.

“But we're both artists, though,” he insisted.

“Yes, but every good artist needs to have a full tummy first before he or she does anything, though,” I pointed out. “I've known that since the shortages during the pandemic.”

“Good point.” He winked at me and kept his smile at a slight angle. I pursed my lips at him as if teasing him with another kiss, but I just meant to tease him. I was awake and open because of him and Chris. I thought about wagging my ass as we walked out of there together, but I heard Chris' voice floating in from down the hall. I need not risk it right then.

But Joey was generous enough to put his hand down my back pocket. I lurched away from him and giggled given his fingers tickled me.

I slipped out the door into the dim lit hallway. I turned my head to see him licking his lips and rubbing his chest. He eyed my chest.

I giggled at him again as I made my way down the hall to the front room. I felt him touch my hips: his right hand made its way up to my chest.

“God, you're horny right now,” I scoffed at him.

“Well, yeah, I just had ya ridin' my fat Italian dick like it was available for a joy ride. And—y'know—you're the only set'a tits 'round here at the moment. I gotta find a way to lay my head on them dirty pillows.”

“Shhhh!” I hissed, given Chris and Lars were within earshot there. I almost burst out laughing at that, too.

“Ya keep doin' it like that, I might just have a plate shaped dildo waitin' for ya,” he chided, and I had to physically stop myself from laughing my head off. I turned the corner and we were met with Chris and Lars themselves seated at the table with Tom, this short stout guy with long wavy black hair, a little goatee on his chin as it jutted out from underneath his black mask, and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. All three of them had white bone china mugs in hand: once I entered the room, I smelled the aroma of fresh brewed coffee as it emerged from the room behind them.

“We might have to do that thing that they did when they were reopening shit,” Chris was suggesting to Lars.

“Nah, if we're gonna do that, I'd rather we just keep things intact and open whenever we feel like it,” Lars pointed out as he took a sip of coffee. “You know how it went during the first time they reopened things here in the States.”

“Look what the cat dragged in, too,” Tom's voice was muffled by the thick fabric of the face mask. Chris and Lars lifted their gazes to Joey and me as we entered the room.

“There they are!” the latter greeted us with a smile and a raise of his mug.

“What was going on in that room there?” Chris asked me as I breezed past him for a mug of coffee myself.

“Joey and I were just doing a little art demo of sorts,” I quipped off the top of my head.

“Making beautiful art together,” Tom joked to which he and Lars chuckled at each other.

“Nah, she was the one makin' the art—I was just being a good boy and lettin' her show how it's done,” Joey said in a single breath. He lingered behind me there at the cupboard, to which I handed him a white mug for himself. I picked one for myself and poured us both a cup from the karafe.

“Also, Dave's here,” Chris told us.

“Dave from the garden?” I was stunned that he and Stone would arrive so early.

“No, redheaded Dave,” Lars corrected me. As I poured in the cream, I looked out the glass doors at the sight of him entering the room with a transparent oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. I noticed the oxygen tank on his back. He was this tall lanky guy with a head full of long flowing fiery red hair down past his shoulders: the lights from the ceiling shone down on his head to give some extra radiance to the lighter hairs so it looked as though he wore a golden crown atop his head. Even from behind the oxygen mask, I noticed his red lips had a slight pout to them as if he was born to beckon a kiss out of someone.

“I didn't think you'd get here this soon,” Chris confessed to him.

“I didn't think so, either.” Dave sounded as though he stood behind an intercom speaker given the thickness of the glass. “But I winged it on the late night train and boogied up to Vancouver before I ran out of air.” He spoke a quick clip, a striking contrast to Chris' gentle voice, Joey's Italian New Yorker drawl, and Lars' crisp European accent. I stirred the cream in my coffee as well as Joey's mug and then he showed me another little smirk.

Dave pressed his hands to his hips.

“Man, you guys should see all the burn scars down in California,” he remarked. “The whole state's been scarred, save for like a few places here and there. Remember all of those fires during the thick of the pandemic?”

“How could we forget?” I said upon entering the room.

“All scarred and barren—kinda like this speakeasy here. Where there's scars and vast patches of a whole lotta nothing, there's opportunity to start fresh.” He knitted his eyebrows at me. “I didn't catch your name?”

“Dave, this is Holly,” Chris introduced me. “Better known as Hollywood Sherman.”

“Oh, yeah, Holly! I remember hearing your name getting thrown out there. You're the artist in question.”

I nibbled on my bottom lip at the phrase “the artist” as I recalled on the move I pulled on both Joey and Chris.

“So we're all gonna be building this place from the ground up?” Dave asked us as he approached me and Joey.

“Well, it's technically under my direction,” I explained. “I want to help these guys get to new places which will in turn help me as an artist.”

“Oh, I see, like a synergistic kinda thing,” he followed along. “And what better way to do it, too, than with a whole lotta nuthin'!”

“Exactly! The only thing standing in our way is making sure we're running on all cylinders, though.”

“Well, I can't really do much because of this tank here—I recently recovered from a throat tumor as well as the virus so I've been put on oxygen for the time being. I'd be more than happy to act as the glue, though.”

“But otherwise,” I said as I took a glance about the room. “We're all here. Just gotta wait for Will to wake up and find out if Dave and Stone are coming today.”

“Just gotta see if we're all willing to do it, too,” Chris added.

“I think we can, yes!” Lars declared as he took another sip of coffee and rubbed his hands together. “Let's get on it!”

[raufnirsramblings]

Black Citadel (working title)

Yesterday this happened in a rush of inspiration!  Huge thanks to @vege-tali for her unwavering enthusiasm and support!! I’d also like to thank @dreamyblossoms for chatting about one character (who will get more air time later I think). I’ve got a lot of this blocked out in my mind already, and there’s backstory for all four main characters as introduced here. If you want to know more, comment or inbox me! 

“Doesn’t all that racket disturb your studies?” the young woman giggled as she approached his table.

Books and parchment, scrolls, and even some rare clay tablets from the restricted section covered the carved table so densely it might have taken an archaeologist six weeks to dig to the bottom.

“I like this corner,” he said without looking up at her or glancing at the latticed window which hung open to his left. On the cool breeze that drifted in across a stone sill, the clang and ring of half a hundred practice swords reached their ears. After a moment though he shot her a sidelong glance and a smirk. “Usually I don’t get disturbed way back here in the stacks.”

Silver-grey eyes flashed at her, expression sharper than those steel blades below, but she only chuckled and awkwardly began to drag a heavy, carved wooden chair away from the table. The chair’s feet dragged on cold flagstones and howled raucously in the quiet of the library, but she didn’t care. She needed to get it out of the way in order for her wheelchair to pull close to the table. It was a fairly dainty thing, much smaller than the one the Magisters had found for her when she’d first arrived at the castle. Kae had had a hand in redesigning it with her. Some days she didn’t need it, and crutches would do, but today was not such a day. “Your eyesight’s bad enough already, Kae,” she scoffed, running her hand through her short, blonde hair, as if that would have had any effect on the way it sat on her head like a small bird’s nest.

Kae squinted comically at her. “You know, it’s funny,” he said, tapping his dip pen against the sharp line of his jaw, “I thought I heard an annoying little chirping, but… well… I can’t see anything, so it must be a figment of my imagination.”

She thumped him hard on the top of his lean arm. “Do you even know what time it is, smartarse?” Her eyes glittered dangerously, and he licked his lips. “You were supposed to meet with Magister Gerrome in the North Tower two hours ago.”

That made him sit up and shut up. “Shit.”

She laughed again, a bright sound like burnished gold, and sat back in the chair with her hands behind her head while he scrabbled frantically to put away his small writing kit. His ink-stained hands fretted to close the books, leaving them in a precarious stack. He towered over her as he pushed his chair back and stood. After grabbing his books and the inlaid ivory writing box, he turned to face her, peering down from his six foot height. With a hasty smile, he grinned shyly. “Thanks, Fyna.”

“You’re welcome, paper-brain!” she called after him as he raced out of the library like some young buck startled from the sanctuary of a meadow. A fourth year journeyman of the Black Citadel ought to have learned some of the grace of the High Accepted by now, but somehow that all seemed to pass him by. Most things seemed to pass Kae by. He was happy as long as he had his research and his peace and quiet. Lessons with the Masters seemed little more than an inconvenience to the bright young mage.

She shook her head fondly as his pewter grey cloak, hemmed with yellow to denote his cloister, billowed behind him on his ungainly exit. She had only just earned that grey cloak herself, choosing a cloister which would allow her to specialise after the general training of novice-hood. It was an archaic system, but then again, the Black Citadel had been training mages in that fashion, sorting them according to their various strengths and interests, for thousands of years. She’d risen from the white cloak of a novice to the grey of a journeyman only a year ago. Kae should be on the verge of taking the test for a black cloak of his own soon, that was, if he could stop and remember his duties and obligations for half a moment.

Kae Erranyn was beautiful enough to pass as a prince from any fairy-tale, or at least he would have been if he didn’t stoop quite so much over his books, and if he didn’t squint at the spider-scrawl handwriting of ancient loremasters for hours at a time. The tomes he favoured were so dusty they were practically a health hazard, though the lack of light he studied by was likely to bite him long before the dust clogged his lungs. His scruffy hair, perpetually unkempt and caught somewhere between long and short, was so black it seemed to glow blue in certain lights. Those silver eyes had the graceful, upward slant of a southerner from Myrrath, and he had the soft, lyrical accent and smooth, tanned skin to match.

Fyna, by contrast, was short, wiry, and, despite her apparent weaknesses, was in fact tough as old boots. Her freckled face split into a grin as she shook her head. “Oh Kae,” she chortled. “Magister Gerrome’s gonna be so pissed – you’ll be washing pots in the kitchens with the novices for a month,” she chuckled. “If you’re lucky…”

Idly she flipped open one of the covers of the books he’d left behind and scowled. From what she could translate of the title, which wasn’t much since it was written in ancient Kaelish, and in iron gall ink that had corroded most of the paper away anyway, she thought it was about the now-mythic art of weaving. She shook her head. Magic based on runes and geometry she could get her head around. Numbers and energy equations lay themselves down at her feet like pilgrims before a shine. Those were the principles around which all modern magic was centred. That was what people came to the Black Citadel mages for. Weaving was an ancient art so long forgotten that most dismissed it as nothing more than fluff and bedtime stories for impressionable children.

The ring of the swords in the practice yard below rose once more through her consciousness, and she pushed closer to the low casement, peering out. Through the distorted glass of the mullions, she watched the Greycloak squires training, acting out their forms and steps until their arms must have ached, and then some.

She sighed. “None of you will ever be contracted to me,” she sighed, glancing down at her legs. “Not like this.” Turning away from the window with a sigh she’d long ago promised herself she’d never give again, she headed back down to the workshops. Machines and clocks, practical instruments and devices were her kind of magic. Warded chests for kings and councilmen, runed safes for bankers, great lifting cranes for dock workers: that was where her heart lay. Not in the dusty tomes of long-forgotten loremasters. There was a reason that Kae was in Ankar, a cloister devoted to history and research, while her cloister was Furlocke. The pounding rumble of the drop hammer and the roar of the blast furnaces were where she felt at home. Libraries were eerie places; too quiet, too still, too… dead. She shivered.

Kae flew out of the library building and bolted across the yard, sticking to the shadows of the keep wall and avoiding the pairs of young soldiers and squires training in the yard. The Black Citadel had trained its Greycloaks beside the mages for millennia, but he had no time to dwell on the history of the partnership between warrior and mage. Not with the thought of Magister Gerrome pacing his study, yanking his forked beard with long fingers, those ice-blue eyes boring a hole in the floor tiles of his study.

One of those young Greycloaks, leaning casually against the stable wall on the far side of the courtyard looked up as he saw the tall figure sprinting towards the North Tower. He chuckled to himself at the sight of a mage, usually such a calm and composed lot, hurtling across the courtyard with all the grace of a startled goose.

The short redhead beside him scoffed and tugged at her braid without realising she was doing it. “What d’you think he’s done?” she asked, nodding at the young man.

The Greycloak beside her flipped a short throwing knife in his hand without looking down at it. He had the piercing golden eyes of a hawk, and he watched the boy steadily with a soft smirk on his lips. The mage could have been no older than the handsome trainee soldier was at sixteen, though he might have been a year younger. The journeyman’s height did add months to his age though. “Dunno,” he grinned. “I have seen him around the citadel before,” he added. “Always seems halfway to somewhere else in his mind, you know?”

The girl stretched an arm over her head with a grunt. “Whatever he’s done, he’s balls-deep in cow shit with no rope to pull him out.”

The Greycloak laughed and somehow the knife seemed to disappear up his sleeve, or perhaps back into a coat pocket. Atla always seemed to have one of those neat little phrases tucked up her sleeve like one of his knives. He pushed himself off the wall, his muscular body moving with an elegance that spoke volumes of his strength. He tied his shoulder-length brown hair back with a strip of leather and turned to look down at the girl. “You fancy training together for a bit?” he asked.

She grinned wolfishly and punched him hard on his bicep, dodging out of the way of his returning blow with the speed of a sparrow. “If you think you can face the shame of losing again, Tomas!” she cackled.

“I figure it’s worth a shot,” he retorted playfully. “Come on… First to land three blows.”

“First to three hits,” she agreed, glancing back at him over her shoulder as she walked away. “Done.” She wore tight buckskin leggings and a long linen shift that barely kissed her hips, lashed around the waist by a simple belt. Long red hair hung down her back in a plait as thick as a ship’s rope, and green eyes glittered. She was the envy of half the women in the Greycloaks, and the object of many a young man’s fantasy. Not that she paid much of it any mind.

The pair moved away towards a quieter corner of the yard, the young scholar forgotten as they chose practice swords from the rack of dulled steel weapons and circled around each other.

Shouts and catcalls rose as the other pairs noticed them, and they drew a small crowd. Cries of “Atla!” and “Tomas!” rang out, accompanied by the clink of coin and the shaking of hands.

The moment Kae stepped into the North Tower, all sound from the training yard was extinguished behind him as surely as though he’d lost his hearing. His ears rang and he shook his head unconsciously. In all the years he’d been a journeyman, he’d still never become accustomed to the wards placed around the Magisters’ Tower.

Magister Gerrome’s study sat at the end of a short corridor, and as he knocked on the door, his blood roared in his ears. He raised his knuckles and rapped on the door, heart sinking.

“Enter.”

He pushed the door open, head bowed, cheeks blushing. “Magister Gerrome, I –” his voice died in his throat at the look he received as the middle aged Magister whipped around, ice blue eyes fierce. His sinking heart hit the bottom of his stomach and still tried to keep on going. “I’m sorry.”

[juniperallura]

Voltron Hogwarts AU

part 8/?

The bustle that descended on Platform 9 3/4 was completely overwhelming and apparently never ending. Although Keith still stood beside Shiro and his friends, gripping the handle of his cart with white knuckles, he had stopped listening to their conversation long ago. Their prattle about Quidditch faded into the din and Keith just let his eyes wander. 

A few feet from him, a boy that looked about his age was emerging from the embrace of about six family members, old and young, all wishing him good luck. An older brother, maybe, ruffled his hair. A man with the same tan skin and bright blue eyes was saying, “No matter where you get Sorted, you’ll make us proud, Lance.” Suddenly Keith was clinging harder to his cart, wishing Shiro hadn’t waved their dad off in such a hurry.

Keith looked away, turning his attention now to a chubby kid who had rolled his cart behind Shiro. He was wearing a yellow headband- a Hufflepuff? But no, his robes and tie were plain, no house colors. Probably just a coincidence. His parents were fussy, one reaching down to smooth his hair and the other shoving what looked like a sandwich wrapped in tin foil into his hands. “Don’t forget to give us a call when you’re all settled,” one of the women was saying. The other wrung her hands, catching Keith’s eye for a moment as she cut in, “And if they don’t have phones, ask one of the- uh, wizard-y kids to borrow a bird, send us a letter-”

“—Are you nervous?”

Keith blinked. The question came from Matt’s little sister, Katie, bored with eavesdropping on her brother. “No,” Keith said. It was an obvious lie.

“At least you can sit with your brother on the train, that makes it better,” Katie shrugged, “That’s what my mom said. But I don’t start ‘til next year anyway.”

“Yeah-” Keith pulled a face, “But all they talk about are Quidditch try outs and exams.” He looked over to where Allura was, in fact, predicting the date of the first Transfiguration test to Matt and Shiro.

Katie laughed, “Yeah, I might sit alone after all if I were you.” Keith grinned.

Only a short while later they were packed onto the Hogwarts Express, the platform looking no emptier as families rushed to the edge to shout their final goodbyes before the train pulled out. As Keith was dragging his trunk into Shiro’s compartment, he saw the same two boys from earlier pulling themselves out of an open window. Keith swore he saw tears on both their faces, but he was forced into the compartment by an oncoming trolley witch. When he looked back into the hallway they had disappeared. 

Keith pushed a piece of salmon around his plate absently. His eyes flickered to the parchment that lay half open on the table in front of him. He could see the scrawl that greeted him, “To My Little Slytherin.”

Keith rolled his eyes. Shiro had really gotten a kick out of that. Somehow being the first non-Gryffindor in three generations had earned him a nickname, one his dad had started using gratuitously in his letters. Great.

The word glared at him from the page. Slytherin. Keith sighed. He had been wondering lately if his first year would be going better if he were in Gryffindor, if he actually belonged at the table where he ate lunch with his older brother every day. But it was too late to change that now— maybe he should just learn to embrace the whole lone wolf thing.

“Hey-”

He looked up as a shadow fell over his plate. To his surprise, it was the two boys from the train. Lance and Hunk, now sporting red and yellow on their robes. They were in the same flying lesson period but he hadn’t spoken to them before— why, then, were they coming up to him? Keith looked around, realizing that once Shiro left he had become a Slytherin sitting alone at the end of the Gryffindor table. Woops. “Sorry-” He grabbed his letter, quickly tucking it into his robes. “I’ll move- I didn’t realize-”

Lance raised a brow at him. “What?”

“It’s the wrong table, I know- I was sitting with someone before-” Keith grimaced.

Now Hunk was looking at him funny, too. Lance leaned forward, hands on the tabletop. “I know, that’s what I wanted to ask-” Suddenly his face lit up with an eager smile and he scrambled into the seat across from Keith without waiting for an invite. “Do you know him? Are you guys friends or something?”

“What?” Keith frowned, blinking at the face across from him. “Who?”

Hunk sat down next to Lance, cutting in, “Shiro! Oh man, that guy’s so cool-”

Lance propped his chin in his hands, “Did you see him at the Quidditch finals? That catch! He’s like, my hero!” They both turned to Keith with expectant grins. “So, do you know him?”

“Shiro?” Keith snorted, “Yeah, he’s my brother.”

“Your brother?” Lance looked ready to have a conniption. “You guys don’t look that much alike— or act that much alike.”

“We’re half-brothers,” Keith rolled his eyes, “And he’s not that great.” He eyed the two sitting across from him, both still looking at him eagerly. Like they were interested in what he had to say? He bit his lip. “But, I guess, I could- introduce you guys some time?”

Lance almost pushed Hunk off his chair. “Yes! That would be awesome!” He stuck out his hand, “I’m Lance, by the way. This is Hunk.” Hunk waved.

Keith took his hand, hesitantly. “Yeah, I think we have class together, actually. I’m Keith.”

“Oh, right, flying! You’re really good,” Lance said emphatically, “You should try out for Quidditch next year, we’re gonna.” He and Hunk nodded at each other.

“Thanks- you’re pretty good, too.” Keith smiled.

Just then a distant clock chimed the start of a new hour and Hunk launched out of his seat. “Crap! Lance, we’re gonna be late for Potions!” Lance didn’t seem too bothered, but in a flash Hunk was dragging him from the Great Hall by his wrists, calling behind them, “Maybe we can practice flying soon, Keith! See you around!”

Keith waved, the satisfied smile lingering on his face. Suddenly he felt a lot better about the letter crumpled in his robe pocket. He’d have to thank Shiro for making him what he- cautiously- thought could be his first friends.

“Alright, alright, settle down, kids. First, to the new school year! Let’s hope it doesn’t suck. Second, to Lance and Keith, Hogwarts’ newest Quidditch hot-shots! Lance, I trust you to uphold the untarnished legacy I worked so hard to build these past two years. Keith, I’d call you a dirty Slytherin and tell you to fall off your broom but you’re Shiro’s brother so I won’t. Hunk, you’ve got a mean swing and you’ll get ‘em next year for sure, bud. And finally, saving the best for last, to my adorable baby sister! Pidgey, you’re a dork just like Mom and you’re gonna make Ravenclaw proud. To her first year!”

“-Holt! Get off that bench before I dock your house a hundred points!”

“Woops- sorry, Professor!” Matt scrambled down from his seat, taking care not to spill the contents of his goblet or bump the arm that was pinned to his side in a sling. “Well, I guess that’s it then.”

“Hear, hear!” The cry rose from the group, older and younger, as everyone but Pidge raised their glasses with a smile. 

“That was the worst toast I’ve ever heard,” Pidge grumbled, glowering over her pie. “And I told you to stop calling me Pidgey.”

“Aw, c’mon, I liked it,” Lance nudged her with a grin, “Especially the part where he told Keith to fall off his broom.”

Keith snorted, reaching across the table to grab a plum cake. “Oh please. The first match is Gryffindor versus Slytherin, we’ll see who falls off their broom then.”

“Well it won’t be me, weirdo,” Lance pulled a face.

“Whatever, butterfingers.”

“-Butterfingers? You’re the butterfingers, you- you- butterfingers!”

“Keith!” “Lance!”

Shiro and Allura blinked at one another after their sharp voices overlapped. 

Hunk sighed, watching forlornly as Lance and Keith scowled at one another across the table. “Remember when you guys were actually nice to each other?”

A resounding chorus responded, “No.”

Pidge flicked a bug off her leg. She sighed, but she was content. The Great Lake stretched out before them, glittering in the sun. The June breeze was warm but she was cool, under the shade of the tree where the group had moved at her request. Everyone else seemed content, too. Hunk was cooing over a blackcurrant tart, his latest score from the kitchen. Keith and Lance were a few feet away, for once putting their bickering on hold to toss some boomerang-type thing around.

She smiled, wondering at how quickly the year had gone. It seemed like just the other week she was sniffling into her pillow, missing her parents and her dog. A few days since she had made some friends in her House, and only yesterday that Hunk and Lance and Keith had folded her into their little group. 

Her boys, as Matt liked to call them. The phrase gave her an odd sense of satisfaction. Pidge and her boys.

Her eyes fell back to the Potions book that lay open on her lap. One line had been bothering her. “Hunk,” she said, leaning forward, “Do you think this means crush the beetle and stew it, or let the mugroot stew and then add the beetle?”

Hunk squinted thoughtfully at the page for a moment before he shrugged. “I dunno- maybe the second one.” He stretched his legs out over the blanket. “Why are you reading that anyway? The school year’s almost over, we’re done with Potions homework.”

Pidge shrugged. “I want to get a head start. If I practice over the summer, Professor Iverson might let me skip a class and I could take my Potions O.W.L. early.”

“Dude-” Hunk fell back into the grass with a groan- “O.W.L.’s are so far away! You’re stressing me out.” He sat back up, looking over the book again with a hum. “Your parents let you do this kinda stuff at home?” 

“I mean, obviously we’re not allowed to cast spells or anything but, yeah,” Pidge nodded.

“I think my parents are still a little freaked out by all this magic stuff.” Hunk grinned, “My mom wouldn’t let me sweep over Christmas ‘cause she said I might turn it into a flying broom. And my other mom tried to use my cauldron as a planter.”

“Oh, you guys-” Lance called over their snickering, jogging back to the blanket, “I forgot to tell you, my parents are going abroad in July, so you know what that means...” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at the group.

Hunk frowned. “Are all your siblings going? Your grandma?”

“Well, no-” Lance’s brows knit, “Huh, I guess that would kinda ruin all my plans.” He flopped woefully onto the grass. “Nevermind, I guess.”

Pidge piped up, “Or, an actually good idea, you guys can come visit me at my aunt and uncle’s house in London! It’s big, and me and Matt are always allowed to bring friends.”

Lance’s mood perked suddenly as he popped back up to ask, “Friends? Matt’s friends? Like maybe...Allura?” 

A collective groan went up at the mention of Lance’s latest infatuation, but Lance launched unflinchingly into some fantasy sequence involving them traipsing down Diagon Alley together, hands clasped and Allura’s beautiful mane flowing in the breeze. 

Keith, still standing, interrupted with a snort. “Yeah, like she’ll even know you’re there.”

Pidge and Hunk exchanged here-we-go-again looks as Lance scrambled up to jab a finger in Keith’s face. “Oh really, Keith?” His voice shot up indignantly, “Then I guess it was someone else that she said great job to at Quidditch practice!”

The tennis match of increasingly inane insults went on and on until Pidge finally snapped her book shut, crying, “Enough! You’re both uninvited! It’s me and Hunk, that’s it!”

Keith and Lance turned to blink at her in surprise. The chorus of whines immediately rose up: “But Pidge-!”

[enigmatist17]

Reconnecting (FiddAuthor)

So, I'm not sure what quite happened with this, but I have to admit I like what came of this.

“H-He lives in the dump?!” Ford spluttered, eyes wide as he glanced at the other people at the kitchen table with him. Mabel was smiling nervously as she stirred her glass around idly, Dipper’s eyes cast onto the ground as he had placed the second journal down to eat. “Why do you care about that crazy old hillbilly?” Stan questioned, backing his seat a few inches away when Ford’s angry glare settled on him. He found himself regretting that sentence when Ford all but tossed him into the car after the meal was finished, icy silence filling the car as Stan quickly (and most likely not legally) drove his brother to the dump, speeding away the second Ford had closed the door. “Fucking moron.” Ford cursed under his breath as he watched the car disappear, shaking his head as he slowly pushed open the gate to the town dump, his heart going lower and lower into his chest as he made his way inside. “Haha! This is great, that old loser can’t stop us!” Picking up the jeering tones of teenagers Ford turned a corner, his face a scowl when he saw some teens spray-painting the phrase McLoser on the side of a ramshackle looking home. “That is vandalism!” Ford’s booming voice echoed throughout the scrapyard, the kids bolting without even seeing the angry man behind them, the can bouncing on the ground as it was dropped and left behind. Scowling Ford picked up the spray-paint, studying the ingredients to see if it would be easy to wash off. “Aw, don’t you pay them no nevermind.” A jovial voice spoke up behind him, Ford glancing over curiously before his eyes went wide. The years had not been kind to his former partner, the man’s arms full of metal and scrap electronics that were unceremoniously dumped into a large metal can just outside of the small home. The man’s eyes were a familiar shade of hazel that Ford knew by heart, shining a bit as they studied the trench coat wearing man that appeared to be more of a statue than anything at the moment. “Y’all lost or somethin’?” “I-I…” Ford didn’t know what to say, eyes locked on the other as Fiddleford hopped up to balance on a rickety chair with an amused look. He was thin, and seemed to only able to afford a ratty looking pair of brown overalls, though one would hardly notice it under the large white beard that covered most of his thin frame, Ford a bit confused at the band aid. His feet were calloused from what had to have been years without wearing shoes, Ford’s heart dropping more and more as he turned his gaze to the small shack beside him. “Can I help ya?” Fiddleford chirped, leg bouncing slightly as the tall (and somewhat handsome) male turned to gaze at him again. “I…” The man seemed at a loss for words once again, Fiddleford frowning as he took in the man’s looks. He was tall, kinda like that Stan Pines fella, but he had the body of someone who worked out every day and had gone through something tough, his stance one ready to fight at the drop of a hat. His wild blue eyes seemed to stare into Fiddleford’s very soul, the gaze unsettling yet…familiar. “Y’all been here before? I can’t figure it, but ya look real familiar.” The southerner smiled, eyes narrowed slightly as the man moved closer, his six-fingered hands gripped around the canister almost…wait. Before Ford could get close Fiddleford nearly leapt off his perch, eyes wide as he scrambled back from the confused man. “Fiddleford what’s wrong?” Ford asked, quickly examining the area only to see there was no threat he could perceive with his hand hovering over his blaster. McGucket had used that distraction to scamper up the nearest pile of metal and garbage, Ford looking up at him when he saw McGucket was gone. “Fiddleford?” “I-I dunno who ya are, b-but get out!” The man shrieked before clutching his head as if in pain. “I don’t…” “You must be regaining some memories right now…” Ford thought to himself as Fiddleford slowly opened his eyes, locking them onto Ford who looked very nervous and concerned. Memories of his old college buddy, a man who had asked him to change history, the man who ignored his warning like a fool, the man who had tried to rekindle their friendship until he disappeared one day, all of this flashing before McGucket’s eyes like a high-speed movie. “Fiddleford please say something, I…” Ford trailed off when the southern male began to climb down from his perch after shaking his head slightly, his racing heart calming after the silence over the last 20 minutes as his old friend had stared at Ford as if in a trance. Once on the ground Fiddleford regarded the other in front of him critically, fishing a painfully familiar pair of green goggles from somewhere under his beard and placing them on his face. “Stanferd…is that really you? The real you?” The question was quiet, Ford slowly nodding his head as McGucket tilted his head. “I…was rescued from the multiverse by my twin Stanley just two weeks ago, hence the unfortunate damage to the town.” Ford rubbed the back of his neck nervously, shifting his gaze to the ground. “I was wrong, so wrong and I apologize for not listening to you when I could have.” “Stanferd…” Fiddleford’s voice was soft, the male walking over to Ford and kneeling just a tad to look up at Ford like he had done in their college days, a small smile on his face. “We all made mistakes.” “Yours don’t potentially end the world.” Ford smiled weakly, Fiddleford straightening the best he could to give the man a tender hug, one that was received quite warmly. “Nah, but mine like ta destroy towns.” Fiddleford chuckled, cheeks a slight red as he burrowed his face against Ford’s chest with a sigh, lanky arms wrapping around Ford in a way so familiar it caused the first genuine smile on his face in god knows how long. “Still making robots huh?” Ford chuckled in his deep voice, the southerner grinning up in a way that sent Ford into a fit of laughter. McGucket felt his heart skip a beat as he listened to the man laugh, feelings that he had forced himself resurfacing with such a vengeance it left him breathless. “Ya know me, I don’t change much.” Fiddleford shrugged, Ford wiping away some tears from his laughter. “I see that…among other things.” Ford’s tone went serious. “How long have you lived here?” “Don’t quite remember when, my noggin’s still a little lackin’ in that department.” Fiddleford grinned weakly, gaze uncertain as he stared at his abode. “My god Fiddleford…I am so sorry you’ve had to live like this.” Ford sighed, his arm wrapped around Fiddleford’s back tightening slightly. “It’s not yer fault, I shoulda listened to ya ‘bout that gun of mine, though I reckon it woulda changed nothin’.” Fiddleford shrugged, slipping free of Stanford’s grasp with a cheerful grin. “Had I not been blinded by my foolishness, I could have helped you recover.” The elder sighed, running a hand through his greying hair as Fiddleford shrugged uncomfortably. “Stanferd, don’t ya go blamin’ yerself, I did this to myself.” Fiddleford said sternly, the two taking shelter in his home when a light rain began to fall upon them. The house was a mess, and the more Stanford took in the more his heart sank at the deplorable conditions his friend was forced to suffer in. Sitting down on the only other chair in the small home Stanford watched Fiddleford make some tea for them both, the researcher’s gaze focused on the southerner. When Fiddleford flashed him a smile Stanford felt his heart skip a beat, something that surprised him despite all he had been through over the years, though as it happened once again it all clicked for Stanford. Stanford had not felt any romantic inclinations over the years, not even when he was a teenager much to his parents’ disappointment. Fiddleford had been something of an anomaly to Stanford from the start, the two having clicked within the first week of sharing their dorm in a way many would perceive as being in a relationship. Naturally he had denied such things over the years, but looking back with all the experience he had now, Ford realized that perhaps he had just been oblivious to what was clearly happening in front of him right now. Without realizing it Ford had stood up at one point, Fiddleford’s question dying on his cracked lips when Ford gently took his gaunt face into his hands, deep navy eyes staring into bright hazel. “Hadron…I’ve been a fool.” He murmured, the southerner’s heart racing as he gazed back into the eyes of a man he had loved for over 40 years, but hadn’t had the guts to come forwards and say as much. Back then there was a stigma about those sorts of things, and for a long time he kept silence and diverted suspicion by marrying a woman he had no love forward. When Stanford went missing, he had lost a part of his heart and for so long Fiddleford didn’t know how to get it back. Yet now here was Stanford, the two standing still before slowly Fiddleford leaned up and did what he had dreamt of doing for so long, closing his eyes with a quiet hapy sigh. He kissed Stanford Pines, and god was it perfect. At first McGucket felt hesitant as there was no pressure being returned, but the strong arms that had gone slack at the initial gesture wrapping around his thin body sent his heart soaring. Eyes snapping open Fiddleford gazed at the peaceful look on Stanford’s face, the researcher slowly opening his eyes when he finally realized that Fiddleford had stopped kissing him. “S-Stanferd…” He breathed, hoping that this moment was real and that he wasn’t lost in a dream that would leave him a wreck if he woke. “F-Fiddleford.” Ford seemed just as breathless, a slight blush creeping its way over his cheeks. “That was…” “Amazin’?” Fiddleford grinned slightly, arms wrapped around Ford’s neck as if to keep himself steady. Stanford just nodded in agreement, a dumb smile on his face as Fiddleford eventually shooed him back to his seat. They spent the rest of the day talking, though Fiddleford ended up relaxing against his…friend? Boyfriend? Aw heck, he wasn’t sure but he sure wasn’t complaining, curled up against Ford as he explained some of the dimensions with an excited sparkle in his eyes. The more he spoke the more Fiddleford remembered their late study sessions back in college, how Ford would constantly ramble about this or that while an amused (or sometimes stoned) Fiddleford would watch while chiming in here or there. When Ford spoke of researching strange lands with what he had available, Fiddleford caught himself remembering their portal building days, how manic Ford had become with his insane obsession that nearly ended everything, their nights of theorizing what could have been, but never were. He remembered the final time he saw Stanford, how seeing what Bill really was had terrified him to the core, how angry he had been that Stanford had ignored his warning and how he had stormed out into the snowy woods. The next month Stanford begged for him to return, begging he would shut down everything if he came back…then he never came back, not that Fiddleford would have remembered. “Hadron?” Ford spoke the name again, a bit concerned that he received no reply once again from the frail man resting comfortably against him, this being the fifth time he had called his name. The southerner blinked and glanced up at Stanford, his expression one of regret yet his eyes now held a familiarity that Stanford hadn’t seen up until now. “Is something that matter?” “Just…rememberin’ is all.” He cracked a soft grin, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to Ford’s chin. “If you’re certain.” Stanford smiled, gently holding Fiddleford closer as they relaxed under the ratty blanket Fiddleford owned. “When it stops raining…would you like to come with me back to my- the Shack?” “Me? Really?” McGucket was taken aback at the offer. “Absolutely. My brother may have my name right now, all in all that is still my house and I can do whatever I please with it. You could at least sleep in the old den, Stanley has left that room alone at least and I don’t use it much. I mean, I’m not asking you to move in, just at least sleep and get some proper meals and whatever else you want to do.” Ford rambled on, Fiddleford watching with an amused look until Ford trailed off with an embarrassed look. “I wouldn’t mind me a bed ta sleep, and some good food that ain’t from a can.” Fiddleford agreed, Ford nearly jumping up in elation had he not remembered Fiddleford was lying atop him. The two shared a laugh, spending the time talking until the rain had stopped and Ford insisted on taking Fiddleford back at once. It was rather comical to see two men in their 60’s walking along the main road towards the small town’s attraction, a small lanky man nestled on the taller man’s back, but the two seemed quite as ease. It was twilight when they emerged into the clearing that held the Mystery Shack, Fiddleford waving to the younger set of twins who were understandably confused to see the town hillbilly being carried by their great uncle, the two walking into the house after exchanging brief greetings. Stan didn’t even seem surprised at the pair who went into the room he had boarded up years ago, a small smile tugging at his lips when he heard the two laugh a bit from the kitchen. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, after all McGucket made his brother happy, and that’s all he cared about even though they still had a bit of a rocky relationship.