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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

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At ease, soldier (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader)

What is this? This is 8/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is “I’ve never seen you dressed-up like this and **** you’re hot.”

Summary: when Santi moves in with you following his divorce, he didn’t anticipate seeing you in THAT DRESS. It does things to him, and has him reevaluating everything he feels for you, and everything he thinks he knows about home.

Author’s note: this has divorced!dad!Santi, so it’s a bit different (marriage / child not with reader). This might not be my best thought-out one-shot ever, or my best portrayal of Santi, but it is what it is. I personally think the thing reader does is adorbs, fight me if you disagree :P I really hope you like it! <3 Thank you as always for reading, commenting, and sharing. It means the world.

Rating: M/E (18+ ONLY, Minors do not read or interact. Thank you.)

Word count: this is not as long as some of the others! Hurrah!

Warnings: masturbation (m); Santi has super sexual thoughts about reader and they’re not together- they are written but not said out loud. theme of divorce but not too angsty. few mentions of shared custody / parenting (not reader’s child). Food mentions. Swearing. Kissing. Lmk if I missed any.

GIF: @realoscarisaac

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl @anetteaneta @stardustkenobi @casifer-is-king @foxilayde @tlcwrites @aellynera @kindablackenedsuperhero

“Hey, look. Thank you for this,” Santi says, softly and sincerely as you cross him again in the hallway, halting you with a hand on your shoulder. The heat from his palm bleeds through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and you consider wresting yourself sharply away from the pleasant torment of him. At the same time, you consider leaning in to his warm chest and staying there, so help you, curled like a leaf against the sturdy trunk of him.

He’s moving in with you, following the long, drawn-out process of his divorce. It has been a long time coming, but his marital house -which he has lived in alone going on a year - has finally been sold-off and split with his ex. And so, here he is, treading lightly and making himself small in your home - as if this isn’t somewhere he’s been loud and brash and welcome ever since you bought the damn place.

You can tell he’s grateful. He’s expressed it enough times. It’s the apology in his eyes you can’t stand - as if he’s some kind of burden. He’s been through a lot, but you want him to walk tall, instead of stooping under the weight of his “bad decisions”. He blames himself for a lot of things that you don’t think he ought to, not least the collapse of his marriage. She had cheated; although, he insists there were problems long before that. Perhaps even right from the beginning. He’d always been a travelling soldier, and even after he was discharged he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“I promise. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I get back on my feet,” he adds, self-consciously smoothing a hand over his scruff.

You smile softly. His promises still mean something to you. Even if he hadn’t seen through the promise of his marriage, you know he had tried. You know his word is never given lightly.

It’s hard. To start again, all over again. You know. You, yourself, were rattling around in a house too big for one, bought for two, perhaps meant for more - but that hadn’t worked out either. You’d had to forego promises you made as well.

“There’s no rush. Honestly.”

There isn’t. Between the legal fees and alimony, and carving up his assets, Santi needs a little time to get his finances together before he can consider his own place. You’re happy for him to take all of the time he needs. Out of the options available to him, you had been both the preferred one, and the last to offer. The other boys don’t have space. He’d considered a houseshare, but he needed somewhere his little daughter, Ava, could still come to stay on weekends.

You have space. Ava adores you. You were spending a lot of time with Santi anyway. For all those reasons, it was a no-brainier. You’d only hesitated so long in offering due to your impossible, undying love for the man. Did you really want to do that to yourself? To torment yourself with him, in your home?

“It’s no problem at all, but I do need you to haul this stuff inside a little faster, okay? I still have a date tonight, slowpoke.”

“You got it, boss.”

You chuckle, punching him playfully in the tricep, and traipsing out to the lawn to pick-up another box.

Perhaps it was ludicrous to go on a date tonight, of all nights, but at least you admit to yourself that it is an exercise in majorly over-compensating. It is some conscious attempt to signify how Not Into Him you are, and you are hoping -if the guy is cute enough and the sex is earth-shattering enough- that perhaps you could even convince yourself.

Aside from your well-established feelings for him, this whole arrangement is pretty dangerous. Santi is too easy to be around, and if you let yourself sink into the cosy bubble of his company, you fear you will never think to look for anyone else again. Whilst that would be just fine with you - Santi, on the other hand? He’s never been interested in you like that. Probably hasn’t ever entertained the idea of it. Besides, the timing between you two - even if there was something there- has never been quite right. There was always some mission or woman or man or bad decision getting in the way.

You sigh, as you bend and pick-up a box, feeling like your date is already doomed as thoughts of Santi swirl relentlessly in your head.

You can hope, perhaps, that it won’t turn out to have been a terrible decision to invite him into your home. Perhaps living with him will even help you get over him, once and for all, in a way that nothing and no-one else has managed to. You could discover all of his annoying habits and start bickering over whose turn it is to take the bins out until you hate each other, perhaps? However, somehow you think this is unlikely - when you’d broken up with Malik, Santi’s presence in your house had gotten you through. His laugh and his warmth had curled into every corner of this structure and nestled there, driving out all of the cobwebs. Santi made this house a home again, before he ever lived in it. In a way, you dread to think what will happen now.

“Make yourself at home, okay?” you encourage - this time as you cross him on the landing. “Put your stuff wherever. Take up some space. Hang your guitar above the fireplace. Hell, get a new one. Hang that too.” That had been a point of contention with her. “Paint your bedroom black, like you always wanted when you were a kid, whatever you want.”

Santi smiles warmly at you as he gets the message you’re so desperately trying to hammer home. You don’t want him to shrink himself into a corner. You want him to be at ease here. You want him to feel welcome.

With words escaping him, Santi’s hands wind around the back of your head, and he casually leans over, planting a quick but heartfelt kiss of gratitude, right in the middle of your forehead. “I love you,” he says freely, and, as he trots abruptly down the stairs, you only wish he meant it in the same way your heart sings its reply.

You do want him to relax here. He’s carried so much for so long. He’s carried it halfway around the world and back again, and the man deserves the break.

****

“Can I ask your opinion?” you call through his new bedroom door, cracking it and poking your head in as he responds affirmatively.

“Sure, come in.”

Santi watches as your body follows the path of your head, the slow reveal of your striking dress oddly tantalising, and sending a subtle surge of heat through him which he wasn’t prepared for.

“How do I look?” you say apprehensively, holding out your palms before doing a little half-swivel, one hand poised on your hip.

Santi’s extremely conscious that his eyes widen, and he swears he must look like a cartoon, feeling like they’re popping out of his head in surprise when he clocks you.

You’re wearing a form-fitting, flattering dress. It’s long, and it hugs you perfectly where it touches, with subtle hints of leg and cleavage where the luxe material gives way to soft, inviting skin. Your hair and make-up are different than usual too, and you really look the whole package - so much so that Santi takes a minute to form a coherent thought, beyond the low whistle he expels when he sees you stood before him.

Shit - he knows it has been too long since he said anything, and yet all he can muster from his slack jaw is a feeble croak.

Wow. Holy shit.

Santi is a little thrown. Your body looks amazing. You look sultry and sexy, and like sex-on-legs, if he’s honest. He tries to think or speak, but he’s not sure if he’s ever seen you dressed-up quite like this, and you have him feeling more than a little stupefied.

He gulps.

It’s not as though you look transformed, or anything. You’re an attractive woman, always, and the dress simply highlights that. No change there. But the way he’s responding to you is something new, and not something he entirely understands. Perhaps he simply became so used to seeing you clad in fatigues and sweats and overalls, usually covered in mud and sweat and blood. Perhaps he’s spent so long schooling himself into believing you’re someone he couldn’t and shouldn’t hit on -his friend- that he simply buried it. Buried it under his missions and his marriage and his house and his divorce. But now that all of those things are gone, and all the silt stirred-up, perhaps there is space for it to resurface? Now that, for the first time in a long-time, he feels at ease, and, here you are, looking like that?

Oh boy. His eyes trail over you further as though he can’t get enough. His gaze snags on the places the dress clings to you, providing a subtle outline of your form. He lingers on the places where you’re practically busting out of it- he likes those places especially.

He likes it a little too much, he realises, as he experiences an involuntary rush of blood to his cock, and he subtly rearranges his hands in front of him to disguise the fact as he stands to attention for you.

Fuck, what would Frankie say? Santi thinks, as he reaches for literally any wholesome thought where none seem to exist - in his mind nor his vocabulary - while he’s looking at you.

“You look nice,” he manages to say, but that’s not how he’s phrasing it in his head. Not at all.

I wanna shove my tongue between your thighs, honey. I want you to slip those red lips down on my dick until you drain my balls dry.

“Nice?” you bristle. “Nice, Santiago? I don’t want to look nice.”

“How do you want to look?”

Naked, on my bed? Or, maybe that dress hitched all the way up. Those juicy hips of yours being marked by my hands as I bounce you on me until I fill you up.

You cross to the cheval mirror at the opposite side of the room, further examining yourself.

Holy shit, you look good from the back too.

Santi may be a lapsed Catholic, but he certainly feels like he needs to visit confession with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. He swears he must have started visibly sweating.

“I don’t know,” you say, softly twirling. “Bangable, I guess? Come on, you’re a straight, hot-blooded male. If a woman turned-up to a date wearing this, would this do it for you? It’s not too much?”

He gulps. “Yes. Yep. For sure. That’ll do it.”

When you flick your eyes back to him, with a soft, humble smile, laced delicately with an inner confidence, he finally has a wholesome thought again:

You’re beautiful.

“I think it’s a little too much... but I guess we’ll find out,” you sing-song, his eyes following your hips as you wiggle back to the door, before turning back to him over your shoulder. “Do you have everything you need before I go?”

He looks at your plush red lips. He licks his own.

I need you on your knees.

Oh well, he’d managed to be wholesome for all of two seconds. That was something.

“I’m good,” he pushes out. “When will you be back?”

“Don’t wait up,” you breeze. “He has a nice pad, so if it works out I think we’ll be heading to his place.”

His place?

Santi can’t help but wonder why he’s suddenly imagining what sounds you might make underneath another man. Hell, whether he could double the intensity of those pretty noises under him instead.

This is not ideal. This is not ideal at all, when he hasn’t even made it through day one.

He hasn’t felt this... aroused in a long-time. Not since long before things went south with her. He hasn’t been this hard for a woman in just as long. He’s been hard in the sense of a mechanical, routine need, sure, where he has the basic need to pleasure himself; but this is something else. This is potent. This is lust, raw and consuming. This is not a general need, but it is startling in its specificity.

As you leave, and he takes himself urgently out of his pants, he understands that this is all for you. Moreover, as he winds his hand around himself, and works his shaft to the thought of you, he has the best orgasm he’s had in a long time.

When he’s done, he has some severe post-nut clarity, feeling guilty that he has moved into your home and spilled himself on your sheets to the thought of you; on day one, no less. It’s not very respectful.

But at the same time, he’s caught in a spiral. It’s like you have flipped a switch in him.

And, as much as he feels a little guilty, and a little terrified by the sudden onslaught of his desire, he feels oddly at ease. He already feels at home.

****

Santi is curled-up on the couch when he hears your key rattle in the door, and you tread in looking just as breath-taking, but a little more sombre than earlier. Having already shed your coat and kicked-off your shoes at the door, you collapse into the arm chair opposite him, your dress ballooning momentarily with a waft of air.

“It didn’t work out,” you explain solemly, answering the question on the tip of his tongue. He flicks off the distracting TV he was half-watching to give you his full attention.

“How?” he asks, leaning unconsciously forward in his seat, his eyebrows raised and mouth curling in a soft sympathetic smile. “There’s no way he didn’t like the dress.”

“Oh, he loved the dress. But I didn’t love him. He was a bit of an ass, actually. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You okay? Did he hurt you? Say something to you?” Santi searches your face urgently, his eyes suddenly intense and muscles coiled. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

You lean forward in your own seat and pat him on the thigh. Your perfume wafts over him. You smell delectable. “Stand down, Garcia. You’re fine. I don’t need anyone knee-capped. I’m just tired.” You stand, and his chin tips up to follow you. “Gonna wash-up and go to bed,” you add, tiredly. “Your night okay?”

“Yep. Fine,” he says briefly, more concerned with you. You look a little sad. A little wistful, he thinks. “Think I left my entire box of underwear in ‘Fish’s car. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.” He smiles up at you gently, with those deep, brown eyes of his, as that earns a light laugh from you. He saws his hand over his chin, gaze remaining soft as he watches you disappear and bid him goodnight. You swing around the doorframe as your hand clutches it, a trail of diaphonous fabric floating after you, as though you are a vision which could disappear in a cloud of smoke. It scares him that you would, he realises. He’s usually the one who disappears. Who retreats.

He watches you slink away, his mind already busy, working on how he might pick you up from your slump, and he plods to the kitchen.

You are upstairs in your en suite when he calls in to you, and, once you admit him, he transfers a steaming mug of sleep tea to your night-stand as a little pick-me-up. A small token, but one that makes you gasp in a breath, looking at his thoughtful gesture in confusion and surprise. “Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

“Don’t sound quite so surprised,” he says thickly as he approaches you where you hover next to the sink. “Just because she ditched me doesn’t mean I’m a total write-off. I do have some redeeming qualities.”

He wraps his hands around the back of your head and he pulls you to him, planting another kiss to your forehead; but this time, in the dusky bedroom light, it hits different. It is slower and softer, and he looks far more comely. It sends a hot flare of yearning through you, blazing into every nook of you.

“I know that,” you say steadily, your fingers and thumb reaching up to play idly with the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. Your fingers brush his arm before you check yourself, turning away from him and towards the sink so that he can’t see your desire catching like a flare - and instead you continue to cleanse the make-up from your face, grateful for the cover the activity provides. “In fact, maybe I should have gone to dinner with you,” you snicker, innocently, before you think of the full implication of your words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean like that...” you hastily backpedal. “Just because we live together I’m not planning on getting ideas.”

“It’s okay,” he says, voice low and steady and soothing enough to halt your ramble. “You can go getting ideas if you want to.”

You whip your head towards him, a gulp trailing down your throat, as you see the vaguest hint of a suggestive eyebrow, of a smug smile dancing at the corners of his lips. You will yourself to remain in place; to avoid the call to lean in to his inviting lips or chest - even if he’s not giving you any signal that he would move away if you did.

You are hot aren’t you? Santi thinks. More than that; you are beautiful too. Now that he’s allowing himself to notice it, he can’t stop noticing it.

Seeking air, and space, the world shrinking to a dot, you tear yourself away from the sink and stride out into the bedroom, posting yourself at the door and signifying it is time for him to head out too. He takes the hint, and he comes to stand opposite you in the hallway, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweat pants.

“How are you doing?” you ask breathily, not knowing what has come over you but trying to push this heady, unravelling feeling away. To bundle it up and bind it back down. “First night in a new place?” You consider it, chiding yourself. “I should have been here. This whole date thing was stupid.”

It’s not a new place at all though, Santi thinks. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever been somewhere more familiar. Anywhere more like home. Not even with her - Ava notwithstanding, of course; that little girl is his pride and joy.

When Santi doesn’t answer, his eyes softly glowing at you instead, you reach to fill the silence, lest you fall all the way into the pit of yearning. “Maybe us living together is a bad idea. This is day one and you’re already counselling me through a bad date.”

“What else are friends for?” he smiles meaningfully. Gratefully, again. You can tell what he’s likely thinking. He’s thinking about all the times you have counselled him through years of bad decisions. You’ve always been there for him.

“Right.” Friends, you remind yourself, as the hall-light pools around him like spun gold.

He reaches his sock-clothed foot out to gently bump yours. “Well, don’t take tonight too hard, okay? You’re a catch.”

Feeling bashful, you fold you arms and smile, looking down at the floor and away from the vision that is him.

You kick your foot out to boop his in return, with your sizeable, fluffy slipper. “Well. You’re pretty bangable too, you know. Someone will snap you right up, as soon as you’re ready.”

Someone.

He turns his mouth downward, and tilts his head to the side. “Hmm,” he says as if considering your point. “Kinda looking for a little more than a bang though. I want someone who can be my best friend too. And... best friends? They’re kinda hard to come by.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. His tone is casual, but his eyes are earnest, and your desire unravels like spools of red ribbons from your core.

The way he’s looking at you, from beneath his lashes, a smirk developing at the corners of his lips has you almost collapsed to the floor with yearning, and you think, if he doesn’t step away from your door soon, you will find it hard to resist the temptation to drag him inside - if he’s willing. You will be tempted to let these ribbons wind around him and coax him to you.

However, Santi simply lets his comment hang in the space between you as you fumble for a response, before turning away and shuffling down the hall and towards his room.

“Goodnight, hermosa,” he calls, the pet name lighting you on fire. Beautiful.

“‘Night,” you call back to him, as casually as possible, before disappearing hurriedly inside your door and throwing yourself face down on to the bed with a silent scream.

Santi, for his part, reaches his respective room, and throws himself backwards on to the bed, having to fight the urge to run straight back to your room and kiss you senseless, if he’s honest. As he sighs out a huge breath and brings his hands up to his face, a light chuckle befalls him, and he has to consider what’s so funny. He lands on it quickly.

She - his ex- must hate this living arrangement, he realises. She’d always thought the two of you had something. She’d insisted. Had gotten mad jealous over it too. In all honesty, Santi had never seen it. Or, not at the time, at least.

Perhaps the timing had never been right.

...Not until now, perhaps?

****

The atmosphere is different in the morning. More settled, thanks goodness.

You’re up earlier than Santi, and you get to work in the smaller guest bedroom, which you had kept off-limits to him the day prior. When you’re ready, you call down to him - he’s in the kitchen getting a head start on breakfast- insisting that he comes upstairs.

He pads up to find you in the hall, stood with a huge smile plastered on your face.

“I have a surprise for you,” you announce to him, and, a curious, happy look blooms over his sharp features.

“Okay,” he says, oblivious, but his interest piqued as you swing the door open and hustle him inside ahead of you, clinging to his t-shirt.

“It’s not finished yet,” you explain from behind him as he moves his head to look around the room, freshly painted and carpeted, and entirely different to how it looked before. “Ava still likes purple, right?” you say to his back, delight infusing your voice as he takes it all in. “Oh, and the birds-“ you point “-the boys and I each painted one. Benny’s is super wonky. I know it’s cheesy as all hell, but we wanted to remind you that you -and Ava- you’ll always have us as family.”

Santi doesn’t say anything. He can’t. He’s speechless with gratitude. It is all he can do to look around the room and take in all of the details. The little bed and princess canopy, the shelves lined with a few books to start her off.

This is something he didn’t dream he would be able to give Ava again for a long time. At least, not without some coordinates and a shovel.

He rasps one hand over his stubble, and you come up beside him, seeing that his eyes are full with tears, and his face pinched, as he fights to supress his emotions. He doesn’t cry often, and there’s not a lot that can reduce him to tears, so you can tell from his reaction how much this all means to him.

Your voice and your manner softening, you slot both of your hands around one of his and give him a squeeze there, before rubbing soothing circles into his back.

When you speak again, your voice is full, cracking with emotion. “I know this can’t be easy, Santi. And you need to know that you are home for Ava, wherever you are, whatever happens. But I thought this would help a little too?” He sneakily thumbs away a tear from the corner of his eye as your words overwhelm him. “I hope I didn’t take too much of a liberty,” you continue, looking around the room, and wandering deeper into it. “Thought I’d get it half-done and then you could choose the rest with Ava tomorrow?”

You turn back to him, smiling over your shoulder before turning all the way, your expression bright and hopeful and everything he hasn’t been able to muster for himself.

Still choked-up, Santi takes a few steps forward to meet you in the centre of the room, his long lashes beaded with diamond-like tears. He takes your hands in his, one to each side, and he presses his forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” he rasps, his voice full of holes, and your own eyes overflow too as his hands squeeze yours, happy that he’s happy, and sad that he’s in pain too.

After a few moments like this, the yearning creeps in, and, lest it invade everything, you extricate yourself from him gently, padding towards the door and offering, in a soft voice, to give him a minute alone.

“Wait,” he says, his voice catching you as you reach the hallway, evidently yielding a great deal of power for such a breathy thing, and it halts you in your tracks. “Can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, your heart and your voice fluttering in tandem, as Santi moves towards you in the hall with purpose.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes search yours, brimming with emotion and softness and yearning too, his thumb and forefinger coming-up to clasp your chin tenderly in his grip.

“Is this a good idea?” you babble, as his lips hover moments from yours, and you are drawn to him with an achingly slow gravity. “You’re emotional, and you’re rushing and maybe you’re projecting or... maybe a million other things and I... really like you,” you say, raising your hands in between you, your palms pressed to his chest as your voice catches on hooks in your throat - keeping him at a slight distance before you can succumb to him. Immediately, he stops his advances, one hand winding gently around your waist. “Santi, I mean, I really like you,” you elaborate, you voice brittle and coming undone.

As much as you want this -have wanted this-you couldn’t face being one of his whims or mistakes or bad decisions. You couldn’t face being something he ended up leaving behind. He means too much to you for that.

Sensing your pain now, Santi smiles softly at you, not angry or offended in the slighest, but nodding in understanding. Tenderly, he trails the pad of his thumb along your jawline, and across your lower lip. He still finds apprehension in your eyes, and so, instead of the kiss he craves, he holds your head gently with one of his hands, and he dips forward to plant a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, your eyes fluttering closed and a single tear spilling out of you as it lands.

Then, he pulls back, both of you wearing watery smiles, and feeling more than a little frayed around the edges.

“I get it,” he admits, nodding slowly. “On paper, this seems like another of my bad fucking ideas, doesn’t it? But...” he explains softly, eyes shining at you. “I feel as though I finally have things figured out. I feel like I know where I’m supposed to be.”

You nibble on your lower lip, a tentative, shy smile brewing. “Guess that was one powerful dress I wore last night, huh?”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a gentle chuckle. “It was, for sure, honey. Honestly though? This sports bra and overalls get-up is doing it for me too,” he admits, with a lopsided grin, nodding down at your DIY outfit.

You examine his eyes in disbelief. You can’t believe that he’s looking at you like that. Like you’ve always wanted; and yet... you essentially knocked him back, your nerves and anxieties getting the better of you, despite his lips being moments from yours.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you gulp, eyes heavy with apology.

“Don’t worry,” he says, tilting his head towards the end of the hallway. “Let’s go make some more coffee. Also, I think you deserve some pancakes, sweetie.” He offers his hand to you and with a gentle song in your heart you take it, Santi leading you back downstairs into the kitchen.

You giggle, suddenly giddy as you shake out your remaining nerves and shock and doubts. As you settle.

By the time you watch Santi open-up the cupboards and search inside, turning back to you to ask if you want chocolate chip pancakes, a tiny note of delight in his eyes, he finds you looking at him with a gentle heat, brewing and eddying and clasping him in its tendrils, dragging him under with you. It causes him to double-take as he looks between you and the food-stuffs, until you have his whole attention. Until the world around him shrinks to you.

“Santi,” you suspire, tugging on his t-shirt to spin him towards you, your voice shaking like a leaf. “You took me by surprise up there. Any chance we can... C-Can we... try that again?”

A gulp trails down his throat, mirroring the heat sinking and settling into your core, even with the mere anticipation of his lips brushing against yours; of feeling his warmth where you have long been cold. You watch his tongue darting out to whet his lips, and it is as though you are already parted for him with the motion, your own lips already spread to accomodate the way he will delve into you, opening you up for him.

Then, Santi surges forward, hands holding you securely yet softly at your back and gathering you to his mouth, as if he is parched of you, all the yearning collapsing in on itself in one final surge as he flows into your arms. Yet, for all the force of your yearning meeting in the middle, and for the harsh initial crush of your lips, when the wave crashes, it is delicate and soft, his hand cupping your face and his tongue a delicate interlocuter, uttering promises against yours. Promises you are sure he will keep.

As the kiss deepens, you truly feel him, hard and sturdy everywhere around you except for this molten, supple tongue which courses into your being like a trail of fire. His kiss is like starlight tossed into a dark pit. You are lit but your hunger will never be sated; and instead you will kiss him and devour him again and again, opening yourself up to him to feed the dark.

Suddenly, with this kiss, his warmth is on you and filling you and one with you, unravelling, and you wonder what you ever did without it. How you ever felt at ease with this yearning within you; although, you suppose you didn’t. You suppose you longed for this divine quickening and stilling, this slickness and friction. You longed to feel him, and most of all, you longed for him to yearn for you in return.

And, finally, as the kiss wanes and you hold each other tightly, Santi considers that although he planned to stay in your house for a mere few months, he has a feeling his stay by your side will be far longer. And, on your side, as you hold him against you and this house feels like a haven in ways it never has before, you are content in the knolwedge that your travelling soldier is finally at ease.

Finally at home.

A home for one, but meant for more, finally fulfilling its purpose.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

396 notes · View notes

devildom-tyrant · 4 years

Note

Hi, sorry to bother you if you've done this already, but I've read your drabble where MC is comforted after a nightmare by the brothers (Mammon, Beel, and Satan) and it just makes me so soft I love it so much I keep rereading it. So I was wondering if you could do another with Asmo and Levi (and possibly Lucifer)? Obviously no pressure or anything, I'm a writer myself and understand that inspiration can be fleeting at times. Anyways, thank you, have a nice day/night!! 💖

You wake up yet again, jolting from your rest with your heart pounding in your throat. It takes you several panicked breaths to realize that you’re in your room, safe in your bed, and it was just another nightmare that jarred you from your slumber.

The details are foggy, but you can still remember the laughter, and the feeling of someone hating you with every fiber of their being to the point that they wanted you dead, that they were thrilled that you were dying.

Your bed sheets are a tangled mess around your legs, and you hastily kick them off, sitting upright and rubbing the sleep from your eyes with one hand, while you blindly reach for your D.D.D. with the other. The screen lights up, showing that it’s past 3AM, and you fight back a groan. You’re exhausted, but you know you won’t be able to go back to sleep like this. And if you show up to class half-asleep again, everyone’s just going to worry about you.

You switch on your bedside lamp and weigh your options, your gaze riveted to your D.D.D.

Lucifer

Automatically, you scroll to Lucifer’s name. At this hour, he’s likely to be asleep, though you know that his work usually keeps him up rather late. If you texted him, he would likely be worried... After all, you rarely reach out to him for help, not wanting to burden him when he has enough on his plate with Diavolo.

Several minutes pass with your screen pulled up to your text messages with Lucifer, before you finally suck in a deep breath and hastily type out: “Are you awake?” Before your mind talks you out of it, you hit Send and then immediately panic. You really don’t want to tell Lucifer about the nature of the nightmares, nor do you want to admit to them in the first place and skew his view of you.

An R for Read pops up next to the text, followed by three dots to indicate his typing, and you mentally flip your shit.

“I am now. Why are you awake?”

Shit, did you wake him up? You chew on your bottom lip, and carefully type out your response.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just having trouble sleeping and wondered if you might be up, that’s all.”

You follow that text with a sticker that’s sweat-dropping and smiling apologetically to keep it light-hearted. Lucifer texts back immediately:

“Oh?”

“Come to my room then.”

You hesitate at that, your heart pounding in your chest. Did he just--? Is he asking you to--?

“We can talk or listen to one of my records if that might help you. Or I may have some tea that could help.”

Oh. Your panic eases a bit, and you acquiescence, typing out an All right before rising to your feet and making your way to his bedroom. You feel as if you’re sneaking through the house, and it almost makes you feel guilty; it’s too quiet when everyone’s asleep. However, you make it to Lucifer’s room without incident, and he opens the door before you even knock. His expression is neutral, until he catches a glimpse of your tired, haggard appearance, which brings a light frown to his features.

“You look like hell,” he bluntly states, moving aside to let you in.

“I’m in hell,” you shoot back, to which he chuckles.

“Essentially. But that’s never stopped you from sleeping before.”

His tone is pointed, and you feel as if he knows exactly why you can’t sleep. He’s always been sharp, usually one step ahead -- or so it seemed until recently. Now, you know he’s not infallible, and he doesn’t know your every move. He’s fishing, hoping you’ll take the bait and talk to him about it. But as much as you’d like to, you’re also stubborn -- and so very tired. It’s a talk for another time.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up. I thought you might be working late or something,” you admit, skirting the issue and taking a seat on the edge of his bed. He quirks an eyebrow, but moves to sit at his desk.

“Not this late on a school night.”

You can’t help but laugh, your thoughts a little more uncensored thanks to your lack of sleep. “Sorry. That sounded weird coming from you.”

“What? It’s the truth. Our little sleep study proved the importance of rest before classes, didn’t it?” A smile plays at his lips at the thought of that, and the memory makes your cheeks heat up. Suddenly, his bed feels huge, yet this room feels so small, drawing the two of you together. You shouldn’t have come up here this late.

“I--” Part of you knows you should say that you can sleep now, that you’re fine, but you’re not. “I wish I could sleep, but I’ve been... having nightmares, and they’re stupid, but I just...”

Your voice trails, and Lucifer moves from the chair to the bed in an instant, all traces of his teasing smile gone as he pulls you against his chest. He doesn’t have to ask what they’re about; he knows.

He holds you in silence for a moment, while your heart hammers so hard, you know he can feels it. Finally, his deep baritone murmurs, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Your name comes out on his lips, and you feel your eyes watering, but you blink it away and shake your head. “I’m okay. I’m okay now. Can we... lie down for a bit?”

The request comes out small, fearful of rejection, yet afraid of the acceptance as well. Wordlessly, Lucifer lies back on the bed with you, his arms wound around you tight, one hand lightly trailing along your back. You curl into him, burying your face in his chest (his heart’s beating quickly, too, some part of you registers), and slowly begin to drift asleep.

In your semi-consciousness, you realize Lucifer’s humming a melody you’ve never heard before, yet it makes you feel so safe.

Asmo

You know Asmo isn’t awake at this hour; he’s always told you that he needs plenty of beauty rest for his skin. Still, you can’t help but click on his name, wishing that he was up so he could comfort you. He’s so light-hearted, smiling and looping his arm through yours, and that casual intimacy has always put you at ease when you’re around him. It makes it feel like you’ve known him forever.

It’s that feeling that makes you type candidly, your thumb flying across the buttons.

“I can’t sleep.”

If he doesn’t respond, then that’s fine; he’ll likely ask you about it tomorrow or give your tips to combat the bags that will surely be beneath your eyes. To your surprise, however, an R pops up next to the message, followed closely by Asmo typing.

“Then sleep with me, darling.”

That’s a dangerous double-meaning coming from the Avatar of Lust, but with your anxiety ramped up to an 11, you’re definitely not in the mood for that kind of distraction. As you make your way out into the corridor and toward his room, you type out a clarification.

“Just sleep, okay? I had a nightmare.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take your mind off it.”

When Asmo opens his door, you give him a lop-sided grin. “You perv.”

“On the contrary, darling, what I said was completely innocent. Check the chat log. If you took it wrong, well... then, I must be rubbing off on you.” Asmo smirks, automatically looping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. To his credit, he’s never groped you (without implicit permission), so you’ve always felt at complete ease with his physical affection.

“You’ve definitely been a bad influence,” you joke, not that your mind wasn’t dirty before you came to the Devildom. “But I’m really tired. I wanna be able to sleep.”

“Of course. But you’re so tense! Here, lie down on the bed and let me loosen you up.” There’s a dirty joke on both of your tongues, but you’re too drained to make it, and he’s trying to be on his best behavior. You comply, however, plopping down face-first onto his luxurious bed, while he sits beside you and begins rubbing the tension from your shoulders. Asmo knows what he’s doing when it comes to massages, and his bed has a heavy floral scent, likely from the lotions and perfumes he uses often. It’s so relaxing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, surprisingly energized for this time of night. It’s obvious that you woke him up, but strangely enough, he isn’t complaining about the interruption to his beauty sleep.

“Not really.” You’re starting to feel guilty about keeping him up. “Hey, I think I’m good on the massage. Do you mind... cuddling?”

His hands still on your shoulder blades. “You don’t have to ask me twice. I always want to cuddle with you!” Grinning excitedly, he climbs beneath the covers beside you, and wraps you up in his arms. He’s so warm, and you feel so at ease, surrounded by his soothing scent. You wind your arms around his slender frame, and he grins, pulling you in tighter, facing one another.

“You’re such a cute human. You sounded embarrassed to ask just then.”

Your face flushes. “Shuddup. I just want you to get your beauty sleep,” you mutter, which only causes him to hug you tighter.

“Aww, you were worried about me? You’re so sweet! I’m supposed to be the one comforting you, silly.” His hand trails along your back, just barely beneath your shirt so you can feel his skin on yours. He tucks your head beneath his chin, but you can tell from his voice that he’s still grinning broadly. “Just relax and fall asleep with me. You won’t have a nightmare as long as I’m holding you.”

Asmo rocks you gently, until your abashment fades and you feel yourself succumbing to sleep at last.

He’s right.

You don’t have another nightmare that night.

Levi

If there’s someone you know is going to be awake and gaming at 3AM, it’s definitely Levi. You click on his name, and type out a quick text: “I can’t sleep. Do you wanna come to my room and binge something?”

He reads the text within seconds and starts typing, just as you anticipated.

“Raiding. Come to my room instead?”

Even if you can’t sleep, you want to. You want the company, a distraction, some comfort. You would go to his room -- you’ve pulled plenty of all-nighters there, but... that’s what they were. All-nighters. His bed is literally a bathtub, and the one time you decided to take a nap in it, your neck had a wicked cramp in it for days.

“I’m tired, though. I was hoping we could watch it in bed and maybe fall asleep halfway through?”

This time, he reads it and doesn’t reply right away. You see the three dots start and stop, and you’re not sure if he’s at a pivotal point in the raid, or if he’s too flustered by your invitation to properly respond. Levi’s stayed in your room plenty of times, but he’s usually camped out with pillows in the floor, and if you happen to drift off, he keeps telling you random trivia about the show and shaking your leg until you make a noise that you heard him. You’ve never fallen asleep with him.

Your D.D.D. finally chimes with a notification.

“Did you send this to the right person??”

“Yes, Levi.”

“Oh. Then you meant you want me to stay until you fall asleep. For a second, I thought you meant sleep with you in your bed lolol.

Okay, after the raid.”

You know it’s just Levi being Levi and assuming you don’t feel that way about him, but with all the nervous energy you still have over the nightmare, you can’t help but feel your eyes water. As childish as it sounds, you just want him to hold you so you can feel like everything’s okay. You know you need to spell it out, but you leave his message on Read and pull the covers up to your chin, closing your eyes.

... It’s too restrictive. You kick at the covers and pick up your phone again, but... you can’t bring yourself to send another text, begging him to hurry. You can always go to his room; the invitation stands. Instead, you waste your time weighing your options, becoming more anxious, and ultimately, getting up to pace around your room.

About fifteen minutes pass before you hear a knock at your door, but it feels as if it’s been an eternity. “It’s open,” you say, loud enough for him to hear, and Levi steps inside with a box set tucked beneath his arm.

“Okay, I brought I Accidentally Became a Magical Girl, but the Transformation Sequence Takes So Long that the Villains Keep Attacking Me Halfway Through, and I Keep Losing but at Least I Get a Rose for Trying. It got really good reviews, and I know you said you wanted to see more comedy anime.” He smiles with such sincerity that you can’t help but feel guilty over tearing up a little earlier. Just being around him makes you feel more at ease.

“Thanks Levi, that sounds great. Pop it in, and let’s give it a go.” You smile doesn’t quite meet your gaze, and even though he’s a shut-in, it doesn’t go unnoticed that you’re acting different. He pauses, but then shakes it off and starts setting it up, while you sit down on your bed. As the first episode starts, he sits down beside you on the edge of the bed, while you’re sitting with your back against your pillows. He starts telling you trivia about the animation studio and apparently, how the manga is actually more ecchi than the anime. “OHHH, but I didn’t mean that I brought an ecchi anime for us to watch! I mean, it’s sure to have some fanservice, but... but that’s just to be expected, right? I wasn’t trying to be -- to be an Asmo or anything, I just thought you’d like it because it’s, uh, it’s supposed to be funny, and I--”

You lean forward and rest your forehead against his shoulder, cutting off his flustered explanation. “You know I don’t mind that, Levi,” you assure him, before reaching out and grasping his sleeve. He’s tense; even though you can’t see his face, you know it’s bright red, and you can feel the weight of his stare. “I’d love to watch it with you. I just... Will you lie down with me while we watch it?”

“L-l-lie down with you?! Just-- just like that?! Is this a joke? Is this some kind of weird normie--?”

He breaks off as you finally raise your head to meet his gaze. Levi can tell something’s amiss; he isn’t oblivious, he just lacks self-confidence. He softly says your name. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“I had a nightmare. About, well... what happened back then. In the foyer. When... Belphie, uh...”

“Oh.” He slides an arm around you, pulling you closer against his shoulder. You feel so weak admitting that, but Levi isn’t judgmental; he just offers you the comfort you so desperately wanted from him. “I didn’t know. I thought you were just awake because you drank too much coffee or were bored or something. If... If it’ll make you feel better, ye-yeah, I... I’ll lie down with you. If you really want me to!”

He’s still flustered, but he doesn’t think you’re joking anymore, so you smile and nod against his shoulder. “I’d really like that, Levi. Thank you.”

His face turns even brighter. “Y-yeah, no problem!”

Levi slides under the covers after you straighten them out, and you settle in beside him. His back’s up against the pillows now, so you snuggle into his side until he lifts his arm and gingerly puts it around you. Your cheek settles on his chest, and he audibly gulps, but doesn’t move.

Halfway into the episode, he starts pointing out the manga differences again, and you both laugh along with the gags and tropes throughout the show. Levi becomes more comfortable and trails his fingers along your back, and you throw one of your legs over his, cuddling closer. He keeps talking, this eccentric, passionate part of his personality being something you absolutely love about him, and the low murmur of his voice lulls you into a peaceful sleep.

#obey me imagine #obey me drabble #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me shall we date #omspoilers #kinda #nightmare #turns out that i had this half-finished in my drafts for months #Queued post

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marmosa · 4 years

Text

oi, is it hot in here?

Fred x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

A/N: my best friend came over yesterday and showed me a snippet of one of her george fics and then immediately hyped me up to write this one. girls and gays i present the aquamenti spell, enjoy ;) (this is so out of pocket, could you tell i was going thru it). also if anyone wants more george content please let me know, i’m a fred girl through and through, but i have no shame in showing some love to george <3

***

“Fred, just because we’re allowed to legally use magic now, doesn’t mean we’re legally obliged to,” [y/n] mumbled, flat out glaring at him as he pouted at her from across the library table, trying once again to convince her to duel with him.

“Just because we’re not required to, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be tons of fun. Come on [y/n], you know just as well as I do that you’re dying to try out some new spells,” Fred pleaded, reaching across the table and pushing the book she was using to shield her face from his relentless puppy dog eyes down.

“Even so Weasley, you’re going to get yourself in a spot of trouble you’re not going to know how to get out of. Just because I play coy doesn’t mean I wouldn’t absolutely smoke your arse if we did duel,” she hummed surely, straightening her posture to emphasize her sudden breath of confidence.

“Win? I doubt that,” Fred shrugged, leaning back in his chair, a mischievous idea bubbling to the surface of his mind, “No, you’re not bold enough to win.”

“I- me? Not bold enough?” [y/n] sputtered, incredibly offended at his insinuation but still trying her best to stand her ground, “I know what you’re trying to do y’know and I know you’re also full of shit. You wouldn’t last a second against me.”

Fred glanced over at her, a smartass look on his face, “I think I could last at least two seconds, maybe five, maybe six, maybe a million, but you’re too much of a stick in the mud to find out.”

“I’m not a stick in the mud, I’m just smart enough to not let myself get dragged into your chaos- as fun as it is sometimes,” [y/n] mumbled the last bit, trying not to inflate his ego anymore than he needed, despite feeling no shame in admitting that his antics were usually paired with an inescapable rush of adrenaline.

“Yeah, whatever you say sweetheart,” Fred rolled his eyes, missing the quick crack in [y/n]’s composure at the pet name that practically rolled off his tongue with ease, “just don’t come crying to me when you get bored one afternoon and need someone to duel.”

[y/n] furrowed her brows and felt her competitive need finally snap, “Listen here you dim-wit, if you want a duel so bad you’ll get a duel, but don't you come crying to me when I hand you your arse on a silver-lined platter.”

Fred sat up excitedly, tapping his fingers against the table, “See, there’s that competitive [y/n] I was hoping for. I appreciate the threat, but you might want to save that fire for the duel, you’re gonna need it.”

“You’re a twat, you know that?” [y/n] grumbled, crossing her arms and sinking back into her chair.

“Only for you,” Fred winked, a shit-eating grin plaster on his face, “see you at the dueling grounds.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” [y/n] waved him off, biting back a smile.

***

“Aha! So you showed up in the end,” Fred cheered, dashing over and scooping [y/n] up in his arms, swinging her from side to side as she hung on for dear life.

As soon as he set her down she glared up at him like he’d just forced her to ride the worlds most dangerous roller coaster, “just because I was reluctant, doesn’t mean I’m a downer. I’m always true to my word Freddie.”

“Ahh,” He hummed low, crossing his arms and shrugging, tapping his chin inquisitively, “I suppose so. But what about that one time when you promised me that we’d go up to the tower and then you bailed-,”

“I had a potions exam to study for and my brain felt like it was melting, don’t you dare turn one on me. Last time I checked you were the one who bailed on me when we planned to go rob Filch of his-,” [y/n] started but was cut off when Fred pressed one of his hands against her mouth, shushing her with the other.

“You don’t want anyone to hear do you? That could get us in an enormous amount of trOUBLE- EW!” Fred hacked and jumped backwards, wiping his hand furiously against his jeans, “you’re a sick, sick woman.”

[y/n] grinned triumphantly, wiggling her eyebrows at his disgusted expression, “don’t lie, you loved it. Now come on, we came to duel, didn’t we?”

“You’re really testing my patience, [y/l/n],” Fred chuckled lowly, “but you’re right, get into position so I can completely ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” [y/n] hummed, winking at Fred as she shuffled into her spot, drawing her wand and bobbing it in her hand.

The duel began and the two made no waste of time jumping at each other, throwing charm after hex at one another, testing out every single spell in their arsenal (well the one’s that wouldn’t painfully injure or kill either of them anyway). It was electric, the wild passion for their craft buzzing excitedly behind their eyes, present in the way they danced around each other, avoiding spells and quickly returning them.

[y/n] felt a laugh bubble out of her chest when Fred disarmed her, dashing off to retrieve her tool, ducking as he fired another spell right over the top of her head. Fred couldn’t help but follow suit in laughter as she turned around and flung a disarming spell of her own, managing to hit him and send his wand flying farther away than he probably would’ve liked.

“Come on now, [y/n], you wouldn’t harm a totally helpless boy,” Fred pleaded teasingly, inching to the side while trying to maintain eye-contact with her, mostly for his own safety than showmanship.

“I told you when we started this Weasley, I wasn’t going to go easy on you,” [y/n] called out, jerking out her arm, “Aquamenti!”

Water sprung forth from her wand, shooting directly at Fred and knocking him clean to the floor, positively soaking him from head to toe. He sat up immediately, his mouth hanging open in shock, still processing what entirely had just happened.

“I won,” [y/n] muttered, cheer surging through her in unexpected waves, “I won!”

“Shut up!” Fred groaned from his spot on the floor, pushing himself up off the floor, the cold slowly but surely seeping into his bones, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

[y/n] bit back a smug grin, crossing her arms across her chest and tipping her head back as if she had just won a crown far too heavy for her head, “Sorry, what was that about me losing?”

Fred glared back at her, his narrowed eyes nearly on the brink of being completely shut, “Shut. Up,” he repeated, enunciating his pauses.

“Aww, is someone sad with the outcome,” [y/n] cooed, spinning around to face him as soon as she had retrieved his wand, her triumphant spirit being shoved aside as a more uncomfortable emotion took hold.

“Shut up and hand me my wand ya git,” Fred mumbled, snatching his wand back from her, “we get it, you won.”

[y/n] couldn’t help the heat that was crawling up her neck, suddenly hyperaware of the situation she was currently in. Why’d she chose that spell? Why’d she chose that spell in this random room, away from others, when he was wearing a crisp white dress shirt that was now clinging to him like a second skin- god she could see so much.

Fred glanced over at her with creased brows, confused at the sudden spot of silence, wondering what had gotten little miss triumphant to go so quiet. When he saw her shuffling through her book bag, an amused little smile wormed its way onto his face- oh he was going to have fun with this.

“Why so quiet all of a sudden, sweetheart?” Fred drawled, biting back a grin at the way she tensed her shoulders.

“No particular reason, just felt bad about rubbing in my victory s’all,” [y/n] replied, still shuffling through her bag for a, uh, pack of gum she could have sworn she had had earlier.

“You? Feel bad? About a dueling victory against me? Sounds like a lot of rubbish to me,” He shook his head, grabbing her shoulder and tugging her to her feet, “There’s something else.”

[y/n]’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, straining to avoid glancing down at his toned chest, “There is absolutely nothing else. Scout’s honor.”

Fred sported a smug grin as he leaned down to be eye level with her, his eyes raking over her face, noting her balled up fists shaking at her sides and her abnormally wide eyes, “Are you sure, you look awfully tense.”

“I’m not tense,” she waved him off, feeling near the verge of combustion trying to control herself. It didn’t particularly help that he was staring at her like that while her mind raced through the hundreds of ways this interaction could go, her heart hammering in her chest at the suggestiveness of her thoughts.

“Come on, you can tell me, I won’t say anything out of line,” he bargained, trying his best to coax her out of whatever dumb act she was playing at.

“Again, I am completely fine,” she reassured him, rocking on the balls of her feet, trying to subtly put some space between them.

“I’m not so sure that’s true,” Fred lilted, titling his head to the side slightly, “what, is something about me bothering you?”

[y/n] felt her stomach drop, so he did know, of course he knew, she wasn’t particularly inconspicuous about her dilemma, but she refused to let up now, “There is nothing about you that’s bothering me, Freddie.”

“Oh, so what I’m hearing is that you like what you see?” he teased, darting his tongue out to wet his lips.

“I-wait, now hold a minute-,” she began only to lose her voice as he backed her into one of the many pillars in that room, her palms pressing flat against the cool stone.

“See, I still don’t quite believe you,” he whispered, pressing his forearm over her head, placing the other on his hip as the water he’d been drenched in had practically sealed his pockets shut.

“And why not?” [y/n] struggled to maintain her composure, her resolve diminishing by the second.

“Because someone who’d didn’t like the view wouldn’t be staring at it so plainly,” He concluded, shamelessly eyeing her up and down.

[y/n] didn’t know if she wanted to curl up into a ball and die or yank him down by his collar and let him absolutely ravish her then and there, her mind was too clouded to pick one. Luckily, Fred seemed to be significantly more level-headed than she currently, which meant he made no waste of time taking the reigns of the situation.

“So, what if I did agree with you what then,” [y/n] muttered, looking down at her shoes, trying her best to avoid his piercing gaze.

“I’d say that you’re in luck because,” he placed his hand under her chin and tipped it back upwards, forcing her to look at him, “I’m enjoying my view just as much.”

“Well then, what’re you gonna do about it?” she quipped, shamelessly darting her eyes between his eyes and lips.

“I’d say kiss you, but only if you want it,” he replied, moving his hand up to cup her cheek.

“I do. I do want it, please Fred,” she pleaded, not even caring if she sounded desperate anymore, throwing her pride to the wind.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Fred leaned down and captured her lips in a heated kiss, his hand finding its way to the small of her back, pressing her off the pillar and into him. It quickly became something desperate, longing, all their pent up tension finally spilling out of their overfilled cup. [y/n] felt up his chest, smiling to herself as she concluded that it did feel as nice as it looked.

He made quick work of hoisting her up, linking his arms under her thighs and pressing her back against the wall, relishing in finally being able to touch her the way he so desperately wanted to for all those years. She did the same, tangling her fingers into the wet hairs at the nape of his neck, basking in the warmth coming from him despite his soaking wet clothing.

“Do you want to stop?” Fred asked softly, pressing a few soft kisses to her jaw and neck, “we don’t have to go any further.”

“As lovely as continuing sounds,” she breathed, smoothing his hair out of his face, “I don’t think we’re geared for that right now. And you need to get changed of those clothes before you catch a cold.”

“Good lord you sound like my mother,” Fred groaned, knocking his forehead on her shoulder.

“Did you really just bring up your mother right now,” [y/n] asked incredulously, wiggling her way out of his grip and back onto her own two feet, “that’s weird man.”

“I wouldn’t have if you didn’t bring up my need of a change of clothes!” Fred exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air to emphasize his point, “Besides, who’s fault is that?”

“Someone stupid probably,” [y/n] shrugged, picking up her robes and tossing them square at him, “wear those so you don’t get colder, if someone asks, you took a dip in the lake.”

“That’s even more unbelievable than just telling someone straight up what we were doing,” Fred replied, flat out, pulling on the robes that we’re obviously too short for him.

“Well too bad, loser of the duel has to follow the winner’s rules,” [y/n] shrugged, offering him a smug smile.

“Can we go back to a couple minutes ago when I’d managed to shut you up?” Fred quipped, crossing his arms as he pouted at her.

“Nope, no can do, you kissed me Weasley which means I have nothing more to be embarrassed about,” [y/n] sang, taking his hands and swinging them along with hers.

“Well I take it back!”

“Please no,” she frowned, sinking her shoulders.

Fred sighed and pulled her into a hug, his words muffled against her hair as he mumbled softly, “I could never say no to that face.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x [y/n]#fred weasley imagines #harry potter #[y/n]#hogwarts #mar writes

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thisisawonderfulusername · 4 years

Text

let's save the world

season one, episode three

five hargreeves x reader

trigger warnings: cursing, a bit of angst if you squint, violence

summary: five gets his apocalypse lover back and the two of you have a small argument. then, when you’re back at the academy, looking around for clues, you have some visitors.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: bro all this support that i’m getting for this series means so much to me ;-; i don’t want to be all sappy but i used to write on wattpad and like it’s hard to get anyone on there to read your stories, but coming on here really just brought my motivation way up because of how nice you all are :) so thank you, and i hope you like the third part of this series *3*

"you're a fucking idiot." you grumble as you sit at five's side, the medical kit beside you open with it's contents disarranged from the panic you went through as five woke you up, a huge gash in his arm. now, you were helping him clean it up, and you weren't very happy with what he had done with his night.

sighing softly, five glanced at you. "it's not like i died." he defends himself, as if it would help your worrying. "it's just a scratch. it'll heal quick."

glaring at him as you finished stitching him up, you cleaned up all the blood. "’just a scratch’ my ass." throwing the bloodied rag to the side, you grab one of the bandaids, which happened to be designed with 'billy the choo-choo' which would have made you laugh if you weren't angry with him. "all this for a mannequin? seriously?"

that comment irked him, and he stood from the bed, putting his old uniform back on over the tank top he wore. "she's not just a mannequin." he mutters, going to grab the big duffel bag, which you knew 'delores' and various other things were inside.

"i'm glad i didn't go as mad as you." you throw everything back into the box, shutting it and just leaving it on the bed. you knew you'd need it again anyways.

five rolls his eyes as he pushes the window open, and you look at him in confusion. "you above doors now?" you question as he hops out onto the fire escape, quickly following behind.

he looked up at you as he started climbing down the ladder. “we don’t have much time, and this is the quickest way.”

sighing softly, you follow him down, and are met with klaus who was digging through the dumpster. stopping for a moment to look at him, you raise an eyebrow. “having fun?”

he looks to the two of you, a flask in hand as he leans against the edge of the trash. “oh! hey, hey.” he takes a swig, a goofy smile on his face, “you guys need any more company today? i could, uh, clear my schedule.”

five stops just a few feet away, holding onto the straps of the duffel hanging over his shoulders. “looks like you got your hands full.” he nods to the bin he had been digging around in, and klaus pushes himself away from the rim, practically slapping the metal.

“no, no, i can do this whenever. i just-” he suddenly falls down into the dumpster, and you jump slightly, eyebrows furrowing. “i’ve misplaced something.” he calls out as you could hear him rifling around all the trash, and your nose scrunched up at the thought. suddenly he pops back up again, holding up a bagel, taking a bite out of it, “found it!”

you swear you could have thrown up right there. he really was an interesting character. “i’m done funding your drug habit.” the young looking boy says simply, turning on his heel to leave, which you quickly follow.

“why are we here again?” you question, leaning back in the seat of the stolen plumbing truck. for some reason, five brought the two of you back to meritech, and you found it useless. “this is a dead end. we don’t know when the eye will be made and we can’t just wait here until the apocalypse comes.”

pursing his lips, five doesn’t take his gaze away from the building as people walk up and down the street, sometimes going inside or leaving. “this eye is our only clue to what makes the world end. we will wait here if it takes the whole week to find out when it’s made and who gets it.”

you groan, letting your head fall back against the cushioned head rest. there was no way in hell that you would wait in this stuffy van for more than a few hours.

slapping your hand against the arm rest, you sit up, “alright, then. you do that.” opening the door, you hop out, looking to five as he finally looks away from meritech.

“where are you going?” he hisses, eyes narrowed in the way that told you he was definitely mad. you just didn’t care at this moment.

brushing your skirt off, you glance around, “i’m not sitting around waiting for something that may not even have anything to do with what happens. so i’m going to look for clues.”

he just looked at you for a moment, obviously in disbelief by what you were saying. “you’re just going to leave me? you don’t trust me?”

at the accusation, you groan. “you’re kidding, right?” you lean against the side of the seat, the door still open next to you. “of course i trust you. i’ve trusted you for over forty years, and sometimes, five, you’re wrong!” you laugh bitterly, motioning to the building across the street. “i’m not going to wait around in hopes that your hunch about this eye is right!”

five just stares at you, eyes slightly widened from your outburst. after a moment, he turns away and looks back to the building. “fine. do what you want.” he mutters, and you almost feel bad about blowing up on him. almost.

“have fun with your mannequin lover.” you grumble, letting the door slam shut behind you as you walk away from the van, determined to figure this out by actually doing something.

your day was spent rooting around the academy, looking in every nook and cranny of every single room. the rest of the siblings showed up around noon, and they stood around in the main room, arguing about something that you didn’t care about. it was all useless to you, unless it lead to the end of the world.

now, night had fallen, and you didn’t find a single thing. you thought reginald might have known something. maybe left a clue for the kids to find. but no.

absolutely nothing.

you laid on five’s bed, fingers laced together on your stomach as you stared up at the ceiling. while you were trying to figure out somewhere you might find a hint to what ended the world, you were also worrying about five and how you blew up on him. sure, you two would get over it, but you weren’t sure how angry he was. he could hold grudges, and you knew that very well.

your train of thought was interrupted by gun shots, and your body shot up as your eyes widened. jumping up from the bed, you grabbed the pistol that you had carried around with you from your days at the commission, which you brought with you when you went through that portal. you just hadn’t gotten the chance to use it yet, and you assumed this was it’s shining moment.

running downstairs, the shots got louder, and you cursed under your breath. looking down off the balcony into the main room, where you could see diego curled behind the couch with two people shooting mercilessly at the furniture. before they could notice you, you ran towards the stairs, thinking up a plan for how to deal with this.

they were definitely from the commission. you were absolutely sure of that. the suits they wore, paired with the metallic and colorful animal helmets gave it away. so they were here for you and five. you just didn’t know if they knew of the reverse-aging you guys went through. here’s to hoping.

as you got to the archway, one of the assassins was thrown through it, you barely dodging it as luther followed them out, probably prepared to fight. looking back into the room, you saw allison being choked by the other, and quickly jumped into action.

not wanting to risk shooting the woman, you stick the gun in your skirt’s pocket before jumping onto his back, your hands igniting with flames.

there goes another perfectly good shirt

the burning was enough to get him to let go of allison, but he quickly threw you off of himself, not getting the chance to turn on you as luther came back in and chucked him out the door as well.

all three of the siblings looked at you, breathing heavily and shocked, “what the hell was that?” diego questions, and you groan, pushing your now burnt sleeves up.

“we don’t have time for this right now. let’s deal with these assholes and maybe we can have a nice little pow-wow after.”

the discussion was cut off when the assassins got back up and started firing again, all of you dropping to the floor to avoid the shots and you quickly crawled away, managing to get cover behind the bar. grabbing your pistol, you hear luther and diego shouting at each other and the fire ceases. you assume they scrambled to safety and neither of the assassins wanted to waste bullets.

you heard them converse before they separated, and you noticed one of their shadows approaching from behind the bar. calming your breath, you pull the hammer of the pistol down, hearing the soft click that told you it was ready to fire. as the man rounded the corner, turned away and towards a glass case, you jumped up from your spot, quickly shooting at him and effectively landing a hit on his arm.

with a shout of pain, he turns on you, and though you can’t see his face, you know he’s angry. he holds a mace that he took from the glass case, and you quickly cock the gun again as he makes a move towards you.

“it’s you.” he snarls, and you smirk.

taking a step back, you don’t lower the gun as you grab an empty bottle, “so she did send you.” you state, lunging towards him and smashing the bottle over his head. he stumbled back, the mace swinging around on it’s chain.

a voice calling out from the hall caught your attention, and while he was dazed, you take a glance towards where the arch was, seeing vanya. you curse, taking a shot at the man before sliding over the bar and running to her.

“you can’t be here!” you yell at her, and you’re lucky that luther comes in just in time to stop the man from attacking you once again.

she looked confused, and you didn’t blame her, but you didn’t have time right now. you just had to get her out. you glanced back into the room as the man with the blue helmet lifted luther and threw him to the ground, wincing at the sight.

when he turns to leave the room, you grab vanya and pull her against the wall, steadying your breathing as you somehow managed to go unnoticed when he looked down the halls and turning the other way.

once he disappeared down the hall, you run back into the room to see if luther was okay, not even caring if another attack would happen. as you got to him, the other two came barreling in, allison calling out to him and both of them swinging one of his arms around their shoulders to help him up.

as he stood up, he noticed the woman atop the balcony, a bloodied knife in her hand as she went to cut the rope that held the chandelier up. you didn’t have time to move out of the way and unfortunately luther didn’t have three arms to push all of you away, so it crashed down on both of you, though you got more lucky as it landed on your thigh.

still hurt like a bitch, though.

hissing from the pain, when luther lifts himself up it gives you the wiggle room to pull your leg out from under the chandelier, cursing as you see the blood that surrounds a shard of glass that managed to wedge into the side of your leg.

the room went silent when everyone saw luther’s hairy body, something you never expected to see, and honestly, you wish you didn’t. he runs up the stairs, and you sigh as you fall back, hand wrapped around the glass as you hyped yourself up to pull it out.

a few minutes later, you managed to get the glass out and wrap an old rag around it to hopefully slow the bleeding, and you were ready to pass out from the exhaustion coursing through your veins. you didn’t even care about the fact that your wound may get infected.

you stood from the ground, watching the others as allison and vanya sit down, diego pacing back and forth. when allison asked him if he was okay, he burst, yelling at the two of them before he turned on you. “and what the hell was it that you did?” he hisses, pointing his finger at your singed sleeves, “i don’t remember you having any kind of power like us. so what was that?”

you glare at him, pushing his hand away. “i was lying about the pow-wow.” you state simply before turning away and making your way up the stairs.

main taglist: @horrorklaus

tua taglist: none yet

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official

lstw taglist: @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender

if you would like to be added to any taglist, just ask! :)

#tua x reader #tua #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five #five x reader #one shot series #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #lstw #let's save the world

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t-lostinworlds · 4 years

Text

...and Action! (Tom Holland)

A/N: This was not planned at all. i wasn’t going to do a birthday fic ‘cause i have no idea what to write and birthday surprises can be so redundant (since i’ve written two of it already lmao) but then this idea came to me this morning and here we are a couple hours later. Wrote this quickly so bear with me aha. Hope you still like it! x

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was Tom’s birthday, a surprise shouldn't be at all surprising. But he never expected his girlfriend to pop-up in the most unlikely way while on set.

Warnings: Just fluff really and a bit of a steamy moment in the end?

Word Count: 3.1k+

Masterlist in Bio

-:-:-:-:-

"No, no, it's okay love, don't worry about it. Yeah, thank you darling, and yes, I'll try and have fun. I love you too sweetheart. Okay, I'll see you soon, bye..."

Tom lets out a groan after he hung up, throwing his phone on the pillow before his whole body plopped down on the hotel bed with a soft thud.

"Who was that?" Harry asked, feigning concern by his brother's sudden change in mood as he tried his best to keep a steady face.

"Y/N. Something came up with work and she couldn't fly out here. She's not coming for my birthday," Tom answered dejectedly. Though his face was covered with both hands, the sadness in his voice was too obvious to miss.

"I'm sure she tried her best Tom," his brother reassured, small smile plastered on his lips.

"I know. It's just—it's so last minute and I was looking forward to seeing her today since I haven't seen her in months," Tom shot his brother a frown. "I just really miss her man," he added.

It wouldn't be such a big deal to him if it wasn't so sudden, if he had time to prepare for it basically. Tom was already getting ready to pick you up at the airport, excitement filling him up head to toe. But with an hour and a half to go, you suddenly called and said you couldn't make it. To say that his heart dropped in the pit of his stomach at the news would be a huge understatement.

You were apologizing profusely on the other line, voice filled with regret saying how it was out of your control and Tom does understand. You have a life too after all, but it doesn't make him feel any less disappointed by the whole thing.

"Want to walk around the city for the meantime?" Harry proposed as he sat on the edge of the bed, giving his brother a comforting pat on the leg.

"Let's just go to set a bit early," Tom sighed, flashing Harry a small smile. He then stood up from his place begrudgingly, heading to the en suite to pack his essentials for today's shoot.

The plan was now completely thrown out the window. He was supposed to meet you at the airport, bring you back to the hotel for you to settle your things, and then you'll go together to set so that you can watch what he does for a living. And to have you there would've been an added energy boost, his cheerleader as you've said that one time.

But with you still in London and him in New York, there was no possible way that it could happen now. Unless you teleported which was highly unlikely.

Tom will have to celebrate the day with you miles away, as heartbreaking as that sounds.

***

"Ready to go?"

Tom only answered his brother with a hum and a nod, energy at a low given that his excitement was robbed away from him.

Harry did feel kind of bad to see his brother so down, and he was itching to say something. But with that said, he's more scared of you than Tom, and he wouldn't want to be the one to ruin everything, so he kept his mouth shut.

Once inside the cab, Tom sat at the very corner with a sigh, head pressed against the window, all overly dramatic that Harry tried his best to suppress a laugh.

Pulling out his phone, the younger brother then quickly typed in the text and hit send, making sure he was being discreet as possible to not spoil the surprise.

Message to Y/N: We're in the car now. I already told the front desk to give you the key then you can put your things in his room. I'll meet you on set later.

Tom had no idea what's in store for him.

***

"Harry! I missed you, you dork. How's he doing?" you greeted with glee as you got off the couch of the make-up trailer to give the younger brother a warm hug, him returning the gesture with just as much enthusiasm.

"Missed you too. And he's still moping. He has no idea you're here, at all," Harry chuckled as he pulled away.

You couldn't help but frown a little at that. Of course you feel bad, it was his special day and the first thing he's heard wasn't the greatest of news. But then again, every birthday always has a surprise. His wasn't an exception.

"Right, how do I look?" you asked, gesturing towards yourself from head to toe. It was a waitress' uniform what you wore, your hair up in a ponytail with a visor to hide your face just a little. The fabric from head to toe was a shade of light pink, save for the shoes and apron that were both white.

"A little different, but still recognizable," Harry pointed out with a knowing smile. "He won't be able to tell it's you right away though, the mask doesn't let him see much," he added with a chuckle.

"Good, great... okay wow, why am I suddenly nervous?" you laughed shyly, bouncing on your toes anxiously despite your task being as simple as holding onto him.

You've already talked to Jon Watts on what needs to be done. In fact, he was the one who pitched the idea in the first place. You were supposed to go for the typical pop-up with a cake when everything was wrapped for the day. But Harry accidentally spilt the plan on Jon who then got excited and offered an alternative route, which wasn't at all simple for sure but it would be great fun if it worked.

Then it resulted to the planning, Tom's manager getting involved, and then the crew helped you test it out and rehearsed it earlier this morning. Preparing was a bit of a handful but Jon was enthusiastic all throughout, saying that he wanted to surprise Tom in a not-so-normal way.

Quite frankly, most of everyone was in on it. Except Tom of course, just as he always is, in the dark with most things.

"Don't worry, you'll do great," Harry chuckled as he gave you a side-hug, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze before making his way towards the door. "I need to get back to Tom before he gets suspicious. I think you're going to get called to set in a bit."

"Okay, see you Harry."

***

"Tom, last scene for the day and then you're through," Jon said, shooting the lad a sympathetic smile at the tiredness that was obvious on his face.

Tom nodded with a small smile of his own. He was slightly confused because the scene before this was supposed to be his last, but you never know with Marvel. New things get added even at the last minute.

"It's just a short scene, you're simply going to swoop in and save a woman who's about to get hit by fallen debris. And then when she thanks you and runs the other way, you then look up all shock and then cut," the director elaborated, Tom quick to get the drift given that he was already hooked up to wires, and that he's done this countless of time before.

Thankfully, due to movie magic, they don't need to do the actual swooping off the ground, just the swing with the women already in his arms and then him placing her back on the floor, said woman whom Tom has yet to meet.

Tom was quickly ushered to his place on top of a tall platform, and after he's put on the mask—with a bit of help—just then he noticed a figure standing right next to him who stayed awfully silent and still.

Maybe she's just shy.

"Hi, I'm Tom," he introduced sweetly, completely having no clue that it was his girlfriend he's talking to.

"Hello, big fan," you answered softly as you changed the tone of your voice a little. Your nerves were eating you up in fear that he might recognize you—and the fact that you were so high up, but you were hooked up to wires too, so it's all good—but you also can't hide your excitement given that Tom was right here beside you, finally after so long.

You wanted to just hug him, to pull him close and kiss the living daylights out of him, but composure and control is key as it is not the time for the reveal just yet.

"Right just hold on to me," he spoke kindly and you couldn't stop the grin from erupting on your lips as your wrapped your arms around his shoulders, very much amused at the fact that he still has no clue despite being so close now. Maybe it was the suit constricting his senses.

"Good, hold tight and don't look down," he playfully added.

"Ready!" One of the crew yelled, you and Tom putting your thumbs up at the exact same time.

"We are rolling... and action!"

With only one arm wrapped around your waist as the other pretended to take hold on to his web, Tom jumped. No hesitation, no warning, no countdown, just pure confidence as he full on jumped.

The short squeal you let out was quite embarrassing as you held onto him tighter, wind moving pass your face in top speed that you couldn't bear to keep your eyes open. It was only five seconds tops that you stayed in air, your feet touching the ground in no time. But still, your heart hammered against your chest loud and fast, a pure rush of adrenaline coursing through you despite already having done this a couple of time just hours before.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked, Queens accent now in full play as he lets go of your waist to hold you in arm's length. You kept your head low as you nodded, acting your best on being out of breath and a little shaken—which wasn't that hard since that genuinely was a high swing.

"Y-yes, thank you for saving me Spider-Boy," you spoke in the squeakiest tone you can muster, still trying your best to hide your real voice just to play with him for a little more.

"Uh, it's Spider-Man," he corrected unknowingly, the confusion clear in his voice because Jon's instructions weren't being followed, but he can improvise.

"I don't think you're there yet though," you answered normally this time, Tom's whole body going rigid at the sound of the familiar voice.

Both his hands lets go of your shoulders in a haste as he swiftly pulled his mask off, eyes growing wider once it landed on your beautiful face.

"No way," he gasped, stumbling back away from you in utter surprise, hands going on top of his head to tug at his hair as he tries to comprehend what was going on, if what he was seeing was real. It felt like he's just seen a ghost, one gorgeous ghost that is.

"Hi there birthday boy," you giggled, the whole set erupting in cheers and wolf whistles while Tom still kept a fair distance from you. He was completely awestruck at the sight of you standing there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as his brain tried to process everything.

"I—what?" He looked around set in pure bewilderment, his eyes meeting his brother's who only gave him two thumbs up, that's when he realized Harry was in on it too. Tom shook his head before looking back at you, tears now starting to well up in his eyes as he jutted his bottom lip out in a cute pout.

"Do I not get a hug?" you teased as you opened your arms wide. The boy didn't waste any more time as he ran towards you just like how they do in movies, he's an actor after all. He didn't even bother to put his brakes a little as he jumped into your arms. A soft 'oomph' came out of you at the impact, quickly followed by hearty laugh as you wrapped your arms around him, sighs of reliefs coming out of the both of you at the familiar feeling of warmth.

"It's actually you," Tom whispered as he buried his face on the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin and his grip around you tightening sweetly, your familiar scent filling him up with nothing but joy.

"Of course it is. Did you really think they'd find someone who looks exactly like me?" you flashed him a wide smile as you pulled away a little just to get a better look at him. Tom mirrored your grin as he rested his forehead against yours, eyes coated with adoration as it stared right into your own, and oh how much you've missed this boy.

"No, because you're one of a kind," Tom gushed, grin all wide as he nudges the tip of his nose with yours lovingly, just so glad to finally be so close to you after being away for far too long, to feel the softness of your skin after months of being deprived from it.

"That was so cheesy," Jon interrupted with his megaphone, tone playful which was soon followed by laughter echoing around the whole space.

Tom groaned, head falling softly on your shoulder in an attempt to hide the shade of red on his face, completely forgetting that you were still on set surrounded with a bunch of crew members. He had no problem being cheesy, but those lines were saved for only you and him, so when other people gets a chance to hear them unintentionally, Tom can't help and get all shy about it.

You rubbed his back with a giggle, turning to place a soft kiss on the side of his head making your boy let out a satisfied hum, Tom squeezing your waist in response.

"Right you two, let's start from the top and get this done so that you can go off to your little honeymoon," the director called out again, laughter obvious in his voice.

"Wait is this scene actually going to be in the movie?" Tom called out to Jon. "Yes, but don't take of your mask. And except for the part where you run off looking all scared of her, and then the part where you looked like you were about to cry and—"

"Got it Jon!"

With that, you two were back on the platform again, Tom sporting a wide ass grin as he never did take his eyes off of you, not even for a split second.

"Quit staring," you muttered with a pursed of your lips, cheeks heating up at the attention he was showering you. He only answered with a sweet laugh, leaning closer to give you a peck on the temple that's made your heart melt.

"Are you okay sweetheart? You look a bit nervous for someone who's already done it once," Tom teased, noticing how deep you we're taking in your breaths.

"I auditioned for this part months ago Tom, I have to do my best," you grumbled, face all serious that made him furrow his brows at you in question. "Wait, really?"

"No," you puffed out your cheeks with a laugh. "See, this is why it was so easy to surprise you. You are so gullible," you teased, earning a scoff from your man.

"Shut up and just let me save you from distress," Tom retorted with a light-hearted tone, shooting you a playful eye roll before he puts the mask back on, but never did he deny your statement.

Once everything was ready and set, you did the scene again, but without the extra shenanigans this time.

***

The party was a blast.

Granted, it wasn't all extravagant or over-the-top, it was just simple, a casual dine and drink. But when you spend it with the right people then it will always turn out better than expected.

A small local restaurant was pleased to host it, food and drinks delicious, ambiance great, and company even better. But as the night took its course however, especially with all the alcohol in his system, Tom hasn't been able to keep his hands to himself.

His smile was casual as he kept his end of the conversation with the people around him. But you knew better, especially with his hand going up—too high up—and down your leg in a way that wasn't good for your sanity. And the fact that you wore only tights paired with a skirt wasn't at all helping your case.

He was the one who called it a night for the both of you soon after. The moment you placed your hands on top his bulge as payback, he just lost it completely.

Once the door of his hotel room was shut close with the click of the lock to match, he was onto you in a split second. His lips were pressed on yours in a searing, hungry kiss, hands touching everywhere just so he could pull you as close as he possibly could.

"I missed you so much," he groaned between the kiss, hand gripping on your waist as he stirs you towards the bed. But you had a plan for the night too, so you quickly turned around and pushed him back instead, Tom landing on the edge of the mattress with surprise written on his face but pure fire swimming in his eyes.

You leaned down to kiss him again, only slowly, teasingly this time. You raked your fingernails up and down his jeans, the feeling already making Tom feel ecstatic and hot as he lets out another low groan. But before he could lift a hand up to bring you down to him, you pulled away with a knowing smile, slight mischief laced on your lips but more of it found in your eyes.

"What do you have in mind love?" Tom asked, voice a deep grumble as he watched your every move with intent. With your palm flat against his chest, you pushed him back a little more, up until he leaned back on his hands, whole body now spread out, and what a tasteful sight it was. You leaned forward towards him with a sweet smile, both hands resting palms flat on his jean clad thighs.

"The birthday boy deserves a private show, don't you think?" you whispered in a honeyed tone, tilting your head to the side as you gave his thick thighs a playful squeeze.

Tom lets out a shaky breath at that, eyes raking up and down your body, making sure he wasn't discrete about it before he met your gaze again, eyes coated with lust just as much as yours are.

With a pleased smirk, Tom opened his legs wider for you to easily slip in between them, voice deep and gravelly as he said,

"Sounds wonderful, darling."

-:-:-:-:-

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Tom H. Taglist: @spacebitch2 @hollanddolanfangirl @keepingupwiththehollands @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @unbelievableholland @vinylmendes @kittenruby

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thesandersinitiative · 3 years

Note

Shouldn't you guys be trying to get a plan in place for what your gonna do with remus once you find him, and how your gonna capture a literal god? Not to mention he has not only de but probly close to 30 if not more agents on his side. Instead of you know bickering, like littel kids.

“I think you’ll find I’m rather efficient at multitasking,” Logan says. “I’ve had Remy maintain an eye on the news station broadcasting. So far their hasn’t appeared to be any sign of Agent Ekans or the brainwashed agents and SHIELD enemies. When we get to the location, I will engage the enemy and have Remy draw up a foolproof defense—” “What if Remy can’t?” Patton asks innocently.

Logan scoffs. “There would be no reason why he can’t. I created the software he uses to analyze enemies for this purpose. In fact you won’t even have to get out of the plane.”

“Why wouldn’t I leave the plane?”

“There wouldn’t be any need for your... outdated tactics.”

Patton laughs.

“I don’t see what is so entertaining.” Logan says.

“You want to rely solely on your computer,” Patton explains. “For someone so brilliant I thought you would have—”

Logan straightens his back, his eyes flashing with a challenge, “Have what?”

“The target is directly below,” The SHIELD provided pilot interrupts, reaching up to flick several switches.

Patton claps his hands together and then unbuckles his restraints. “Excellent! Then we can continue this conversation in just a moment!”

Logan’s head whips towards him, “Wait—!”

“War waits for no one,” Patton says in a light tone, offering a smile to the inventor as his hand hits the lever to drop the hanger door. And then before it’s even halfway open, he strolls towards it and flips himself through the opening into the empty air.

It feels like flying. Patton breathes in deep as the winds fight to tear him apart, the chill burning his cheeks in a way that the fire never had. He’s burned before; sometimes Patton feels like he’s still burning, but this cold is something so different he’d never confuse it for what being strapped to that table had been like. He locks his limbs together, holds his shield over his heart and dives through the air towards the battlefield below.

((Was this what the Soviet felt like? When he fell from that train?))

He flips at the last second, landing on the ground hard enough to break the cobblestone road under his feet, and holding his shield up to catch the glancing blow from the so-called god that definitely would have hit a citizen. The force of the blow knocked both of them back with a force that popped Patton’s eardrums.

“Hello!” Patton says with a smile, over his shield. “You must be Remus!”

Remus opens his mouth but before he can say anything there’s a loud screech that streaks through the air in a visible, physical wave and slams into him. Even Patton yelps as the man is knocked off his hit and goes flying into the stone wall of a nearby half crumbling building in a way that definitely should have broken all of his ribs.

“Logan!” Patton shouts, glancing up to see the flying suit of armor, with the stern helmet in place to obscure exactly what Logan’s face looks like.

“Since you wanted to be here so badly, keep your eyes on him,” Logan’s voice comes out from it and gosh if that doesn’t feel like something out of a movie. Flying Robots, Gods, Siberia.

Over the sound of screaming civilians, Patton distinctly hears some high pitched laughter— something that doesn’t sound humorous and definitely doesn’t sound happy. Remus staggers to his feet, swaying drunkenly from side to side, his horned crown slightly lopsided, and Logan lands on the ground next to Patton with his glowing palms at the ready.

“Remy, analyze,” the man says.

Remus of Vanir whistles, spinning his spear in his hand. “That eager to get in my pants? You could have just asked! X-rays take all the fun out of it!” He points the spear tip at them. “Tell me something… is your dick made of metal too?”

“Babes, his magic is off the charts. Literally.” Remy’s voice says. “I’m having trouble even locking in on him.”

Patton smiles.

“Hmmm, then we have to do this with my outdated tactics,” Patton says, loosening his grip on his shield and spinning through his throw— which gosh if that didn’t feel great. After so long, the feeling of his shield leaving his hand, the muscle memory of his throws, the thumping of his blood in veins; it’s like excitement. It’s like being alive.

Remus shifts barely an inch to dodge the shield, letting it collide with the dented wall, bounce off the ground and ricochet back to Patton’s arm.

“Impressive,” Logan says, but Patton can’t tell with this robotic tone if he’s being made fun of or not.

“My, my, my,” Remus says, “Aren’t you two eager peepers! What happened to conversation, Mr. Blueskies, Mr. Hammer? You mortals still do that, right? Get to know each other before you try to kill each other?”

Logan’s palms glow brightly, and Patton feels his heart leap into his throat.

“How do you know that name?” Patton asks, feeling like his skin is a size too small. “That name…Tell me!”

“What? Blueskies?” Remus laughs. “Oh Captain, my Captain,” He grins, canines sharp and eyes ablaze, “Make me.”

Patton steps forward, shield front and center, and says, with every inch of calm rationality he does not feel, “Stand down and surrender,” He orders, and it sounds like a threat, a promise, “Or I will.”

Remus twirls his spear in his hands, tapping the pointed part against his chin twice for emphasis. “Hmm…” He hums thoughtfully, as if he were actually taking Patton’s words seriously, as if Patton had not said them as a courtesy nothing more, as if Patton had not been through battle through bloody battle, had not fought half a war—as if he did not know men like Remus did not surrender until they were made to.

But Patton always asked. Fights might have been freeing, electrifying, but the blood staining his hands after were not, even if he always tried to pull his blows. Against Remus he would not have to, Patton doesn’t even think he could.

He can’t quite comprehend how much that terrifies him.

“Nah,” Remus decides, shooting his arm out and sending a piercing bolt of energy out of the spear’s gem with a fluid jab of his wrist. Patton plants his feet and raises his shield, but his knees buckle as the spell impacts with a bang—and suddenly he’s twenty feet back and half buried in a snowbank, blinking, “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Blueskies,” He cackles, “But if you can’t even take a hit— well, I don’t think your whole ‘living legend’ schtick is gonna last much longer!”

Logan launches into the air sending another one of those shrieking blasts towards Remus, while Patton tries to remember how to breathe in. The snow is cold, a shock to his system, and arms feel a bit like pudding under his skin from the impact. He stumbles to his feet, trying to get his bearings again.

Across the square, Logan’s sonic repulsor thingy— what’s what he called it right? Patton shakes his head— tears through the cobblestone ground, as Remus dodges artfully around without being caught in a made up dance. Patton thinks he might even be singing some Asgardian drinking song, although he can’t hear the words. Then without warning, the demigod throws an empty hand up at Logan and winks.

The subsequent green blast of magic is so bright it nearly blinds Patton to watch. Logan goes careening from the sky, crashing straight through the squares fountain. Remus jumps up after him, moving like a rabid squirrel over the unearthed and broken sections of concrete and piping and gripping his scepter with two hands to bring it down on Logan’s glowing chest.

Patton winds back to throw his shield again, but Logan is faster, rolling to the side just as the bladed tip of the spear lodges into the block where his repulser had been.

“He’s using his weapon as a morning star,” Logan’s voice says through the earpiece, ringing loud and clear through Patton’s head.

“Got it,” Patton says and takes off after the target. He throws his shield as the demigod raises his spear again.

“Swing, batter, batter! SWIIIIIING!!” Remus yells, knocking it out of the way and Patton dives low for his unguarded, unstable legs. They go skidding backwards, rolling over rocks and stone and each other’s limbs and gosh that crack sounded bad, but Remus’s laughter persists.

Like he thinks this is fun. Like he isn’t bleeding, like he hasn’t destroyed half a city, like he hasn’t ruined hundreds of lives today alone. He laughing like this is the most enjoyment he’s had all week and Patton’s blood is boiling inside him, burning through his skin and threatening to spill right out.

Patton lands with his hands pinning Remus down, and his head buzzing with so many thoughts that he can’t hear any of them.

“I’m actually a top,” Remus says, twisting his knees up and launching Patton off of him.

Patton hits the ground rolling, and sliding back to his feet like he’d done a million times back in the days of his Howling Commandos, his breath condensing in the air in front of him. He looks up just in time to see a flash of green light and he stumbles back—

“Patton!” His name twists mid-syllable, mutating from a shout to a gentle call, until a familiar, lilting accent is curling warm around the letters. He looks up, and the Brit grins brightly down at him, one hand clasping his shoulder, “You alright, Mr. Blueskies? You zoned out on us for a moment there?”

Patton looks at him, really looks at him, with his old round glasses cleaned roughly on his shirt. He’s not blurry, but bright, almost blindingly so, cheekbones sunken but blue eyes clear.

Wait, no—Patton blinks, feels like he’s stumbling, freefalling backward for a moment—Patton blinks and his eyes are venom green, still creased in concern, but it’s not right, not him, not—

Patton opens his mouth to protest, to question, to demand, but the Brit’s name slips backwards from his brain and he can’t quite grasp it between his fingers anymore. He blinks again, and the back of his eyelids are green and he can feel his pulse behind them, hard and fast.

The Brit’s eyes are hazel. Soft and concerned and bleeding, dripping messily from each duct like tears and staining his cheeks an ugly scarlet. He bleeds and he bleeds and he bleeds, from his eyes and nose and ears, a mottling purple bruise creeping up the side of his neck and curling painfully around his wrists and suddenly, suddenly, he’s stepping out of range, taking away his hand and his smile and his warmth and Patton—

Patton slams into the concrete beneath him. The back of his head snaps against his helmet and his eyes are spinning and there’s green smoke glowing around him—for a moment he feels like he’s drowning, and his head has just breached the waves as his lungs heaved, but then his body seizes again, once, twice, as his comm screams in his ears—

“Captain!—”

The explosion is as loud as it is violent, shredding through the room and ripping through the wall without any warning. Patton hits the ground, feeling the rumbling of the train under him, the winds of the Siberian winter mountain over him. He can hear his team scrambling through their radios as the signal screams, working around the curses in an amount of languages that outnumber the years this war had been going on for.

“—just messed up,” a voice is saying. “You’re fighting off my creations with the power of denial? Deedee said your daddy fucked you over but I didn’t think it was that bad!”

“Patton!” the Soviet screams. Patton can’t breathe as he raises his head, as he clings to the broken railing, as he looks over and sees the Soviet just barely holding on himself. He’s outside the train car, finger wrapped around a piece of exposed metal that’s cutting through his gloves and spilling blood across his palms.

“Patton, these are just illusions,” another says far closer, almost right in his ears. Patton wants to scream. The wind is tearing through the gap in the train wall, strong enough that even his super soldier strength is barely keeping him holding on and the Soviet is staring at him with fear, with horror, with terror. His eyes are brown, brown like dark chocolate, unmistakable, unforgettable, un-illusionable. His face is half burned, half smashed, half collided with the wall and his left cheek marred by more blood than it should be possible.

“Patton, listen to me! Whatever you’re seeing it’s not—”

“Patton,” the Soviet’s lips move, and Patton can feel the infinity between his heartbeats. “Please I can’t—!”

Siberian winds are strong. Patton lunges forward, his fingers reaching, stretching, grasping and the Siberian winds drag the Soviet out into empty air, into a free fall, into the nothingness of wilderness and snow and a fall that no human, super serum or not, could survive.

Funny isn’t it? The Soviet survived the war of his homeland that ravaged the earth, survived a year in HYDRA prisoner camps that had killed more good men than the records would ever remember, survived joining the allies who never trusted him; he could have survived everything. But instead he had come in contact with Patton Hart, whose specialty has always been killing the things closest to him.

Patton is still screaming the Soviet’s name when there’s a sharp CLANG metal on stone and the train around him evaporates like fallen snow itself.

His chest is heaving, pulse rushing, and spots swimming at the edge. He throws himself to the side and heaves, spit dripping on the sidewalk. His stomach is churning with guilt and anger, running so hot he thinks his throat might burn if he actually hurls, so he presses one kevlar covered hand against his mouth to keep it down as salt burns in his eyes.

After a moment, he hears the low hum of repulsors, and the solid clank of metal against cement. He looks up, folding back onto his knees, just as Logan places the cool metal frames of his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Breathe in through your mouth,” Logan suggests, calmly, “And out through your nose. Slowly.”

Patton sucks a breath in as Logan’s face, helmet folded back into the armor, swims into clarity before him. His stomach settles, some, and he swallows, feeling his lips curl into a familiar shape.

“It appears there’s been a new development,” Logan informs him, once his breathing has been regulated into something resembling normal. He crouches down next to him as Patton viciously rubs his cheeks dry, more thankful than he can express at the moment. “Are you…?”

“I’m fine,” Patton says. “I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Logan comments, removing his hands once Patton steadies, “It is expected to be disoriented after a mental attack of that severity. What I meant was—”

“REMUS!”

Logan and Patton both whip towards the sound, Logan reaching up and tapping the side of his helmet at the sight before them: the roof of a building twenty feet away and a figure standing aloft the edge, red cape billowing in the wind, and a sword with a glowing golden hilt in his hand. Logan hisses at the sight of him, but from Patton’s very professional opinion, with moonlit glow at his back, the newcomer seems like something out of a fairytale, a dream come to life.

“Thomas, if you can hear me…” Logan says distastefully into his com, “It appears Prince Roman has, at last, arrived to take responsibility for his brother.”

End of Chapter Four

Previous Ask || Rules || Ch 4 Start || Masterlist || Next Chapter

#avengers au #sanders sides #chapter four #roman!!#Remus!!#logan sanders #patton sanders #whoops Patton and those pesky flashbacks #someone get this kid some therapy pls #Logan also needs therapy but he's just better at faking it #Roman!!!! is Here!!#please love him #twila's art

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translytherins · 4 years

Text

Unaccepted Permission Slip {Part 2}

[A/n: Pitcure refrence is on my Unaccepted Permission Slip part 1 so go check that out if you want refrence]

Peter's P.O.V

"Your enjoying the attention that your getting from (m/n) aren't you Peter" Ned said while wiggling his eyebrows at me. Mj was just smirking at me.

"Yup" i said while popping the p.

I looked at (m/n) who was standing right next to me. We were in front of the elevator waiting for it to open. He was wearing his headphones, listening to his music playlist so he most likely didn't hear what Ned said.

"I think this is the most clingy he's ever been in our one year of dating. So I'm enjoying it while it lasts" i said with a smile on my face. The elevator doors opened and we got on to it.

I opened the door to the training room and we saw Aunt Tasha sparring with Uncle Clint while Pietro was sparring with Pops. Wow...this is so...freaking...unimpressive. Well to me and (m/n) that is because the Avengers sparring is basically a daily occurrence. My classmates and the teacher were gawking at the scene infront of them. When they saw us they stopped sparring and gave us a welcoming smile.

"Hello children of Midtown High" Aunt Tasha greeted us but i don't think the others caught on, on the fact that she just called them children because their to star struck but (m/n), me and Mj did. We were snickering while Mj was glaring at us causing us to stop.

"Today we'll be picking five students to come and and demonstrate with the five of us.

" Five??? But there's only four of you??? "

" No there's five of us. Come here (N/n). Your joining us" Pietro said with a smug look his face.

I visibly gulped because I knew something very VERY bad is about to go down. I just love when my Parker luck strikes. Note the sarcasm.

(m/n)'s P.O.V

I groaned because of two things. One, I'm too lazy to spar and two Pietro called me (N/n).

"No. I'm not doing it and you can't make me" i said while giving Pietro a challenging look.

"Oh, i can" he replied while holding my wireless headphones. I checked my neck only to realise that they were missing.

I just groaned in annoyance and made my way over to them. Taking my headphones from Pietro and smacking his head really hard. Pietro whined and pouted while i just rolled my eyes at him. Cap made us stand to the side while he and Nat demonstrated. They started sparring and the classs stared in amazement (except Peter of course) but i didn't pay attention to the demonstration. Instead i put on my mask, hood and headphones, got out my sword and started practicing with it while doing some summer saults, back flips, cart wheels and much more. I was so into it that i didn't even realise that half of the classes attention was on me. I shape shifted my sword into a staff and transferred my water element into it. I stabbed the staff into the ground and a water dragon appeared from my staff. After a few minutes, it evaporated into water droplets before disappearing it completely.

Once it disappeared, i turned around while pulling down my headphones and saw that everyone was staring at me shocked and surprised even the five Avengers (including Peter) because i never showed them i could do with my full power. Pietro was the first one to snap out of it and Pietro super speed towards and wrapped an arm around my shoulder with his sh*t eating grin.

"Didn't know you could do that"

I just shrugged and pushed his arm off my shoulder.

"I forgot"

He just chuckled and yanked me by my hand towards the middle of the sparring mat. The others snapped out of it and started choosing their sparring partners. Some of them looked excited to spar with us, some of them looked like they were about to sh*t their pants. I put my headphones back on and waited until it was my turn. I was so into my music that i didn't even realise that it was my turn to pick until Clint nugged my shoulder, telling me it was my turn to pick. I had an evil smirk on my face but no one could see it under my (f/c) mask.

"Eugene Thompson"

When i said his name his face paled slightly but he had a cocky arse grin on his face. He probably thought he could beat me but his name is on my death list, so i won't be going easy. Peter looked like he was about to pass out and his friend, Mj, was drawing something on her book ( judging by the way she was holding her pencil) so fast that it looked like her pencil was about to break. He slowly made his way towards me, trying to look menacing as possible but it didn't work. All i did was yawn and say ;

"How long is it goong to take for you to get here because your wasting everyone's time with your presents"

Everyone either laughed or snickered at my comment making the retard named Flash mad but decided to not say anything and finally walk faster so he was standing next to me. We all moved to the side because Nat was going first with her partner which was a girl that looks slightly terrified but slightly confident that she might win. Let's just hope Nat doesn't break her bones.

After a few minutes of watching the other kick arse, finally it was my turn. Me and Flash walked to the center of the sparring mat. We got into our fighting stance and waited for Steve to blow the whistle. While waiting, i quickly shape shift my sword into a sludge hammer and transferred some natural element into it. When he blew the whistle, i slammed the hammer onto the ground creating a huge crack in the ground and the floor continued to crack until it reached Flash. The room was silent until the cracked area started to fall, creating a huge deep hole in the ground. Unfortunately, ( well fortunately actually. I don't want to kill him. Just scare him a little) he moved just in time so he won't get swallowed by the ground. He had an arrogant smirk on his face because he thought he had a chance but unknown to him there was vines that was starting to sprout from the crack that managed to make his way behind him. The vines started to tangle his legs. He raised his fist and was about to come running towards me but he fell face first onto the ground. Everyone bursted out laughing even the avengers were snickering because i may or may have not made F.R.I.D.A.Y send a video of the incident in the lab to Tony and knowing him he might have already showed the video to the others before these four came down here. I walked up to him, who was still on the ground struggling to get out of my vines, and whispered in his ear, my eyes glowing red.

"If you or that sorry excuse of a teacher ever and i mean EVER hurt my boyfriend or anyone else again not only me but the others will come after you two and slit your throats open. Got it you b*tch"

He nodded his head vigorously. I smirked and untangled him from my vines and he stood up shaking like a leaf and spoke in a teasing but serious tone.

"Not so tough are you mister tough guy. Now get out of this f*cking tower while we wrap this tour up, never show your face here again because I don't think Tony let's bullies like you into this tower EVER again and don't even think about trying to apply for the internships because the chances of you getting in is 1%"

And with that, he bolted out of the room. I just shook my head. People these days can be a bit b*tchy. I repaired the crack in the ground and we (Clint, Pietro, Nat and Steve) walked towards the awestruck class.

Peter's P.O.V

The five of them were walking towards us and i have a bad feeling about what's about to go down.

"Listen here everyone. If i hear that you bring harm to my son, Peter Stark-Rogers, just remember that me, my husband and the rest of the avengers will not hesitate to take action. Understood???"

They all nodded their heads with shock (with Mrs.Warren slightly terrified)

" Good. The tour is over but the teacher will have a meeting with me, Tony and the principal deciding whether your going to keep your job or not for not doing anything about kids bullying other kids"

The whope class exited the tower talking about how cool the trip was. Ned just gave me a smile and waved before walking through the door. Pops turned to me and i gulped.

"We'll talk about you being bullied later. Right now, go and change your clothes. The press conference going to start in an hour and you have to change into the suit Tony gave you because if you don't he's going to go beserk"

I nodded my head and towards my room to get ready for the press conference that i totally DIDN'T forget about. But tonights going to be a long night of explanation and scolding *sigh*. You know what it's okay because i know they're trying to protect me and i wouldn't trade them or my boyfriend for the world.

-Timeskip To The Press Conference-

Me, my family and my boyfriend were at the conference room (A/n :If there's not just go with it). We're not even inside yet but I could already see light flashing and loud talking inside the room. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked towards the owner of the hand and saw dad smiling at me.

"Don't worry kid. You'll be fine"

I smile and nodded.

"Ready?" Happy asked as he put his hand on the handle ready to open the door.

I nodded my head. I felt (m/n) take a hold of my left hand and squeeze it for reassurance. Happy opened the door and we walked inside and onto the podium. When we were all standing on the podium Dad and pops were immediately bomb with a thousand questions asking if it was true he was gay and married and if they adopted a kid. He confirmed it saying he was married to Steve Rogers *cue the crying woman's* and he introduced me to. I waved akwardly, not knowing what to act and questions were shot towards me. They're talking was hurting my ears and the lights were really bright all of a sudden. Realisation hits me like a bullet train. I was having a sensory overload. I tugged on pops hand and he looked over at me. He immediately realised what was happening just by looking at me and said the press conference was over and carried me inside to lay me down in my room.

He and dad placed me on my bed with an extremely worried (m/n) standing behind them. They kissed my forehead and left the room to bring the news to everyone in the living room. (m/n) was about to follow them but i tugged his hand unintentionally making him fall onto the bed because of my super strength and snuggled into his side. He gave me a soft smile and kissed my forehead making me smile.

"How did i get so lucky with you?" he asked.

I looked at him with a confused look.

"Why are you asking that??? It should be me asking you that"

He gave me a smile that I love so much and pecked my cheek, making me blush.

"I love you so much Pete that it hurts. You know that, right???"

"I know. You tell me that every day. I love you too (m/n). So, so much"

And with that we both fell asleep in each others embrace woth a smile on our faces.

~The End~

#spiderman #superhero #peter parker #peter parker x male reader #lgbt pride #gay #yaoi #male #male reader #x male reader #school #field trip

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puckinginsane · 4 years

Text

What Am I?

Jamie Benn one shot

Warningsish : Smuttyish language. A curse? I think just one.

Words : 7.8K

I really hope y’all like it. I worked really hard on this.

🎵 Tell me, have you seen a sunset Turn into a sunrise? Kiss right through the night? 'Cause we should try that sometime Hold you 'til the mornin' And if I said I'm fallin' Would you just reply "I know you are, but what am I?"🎵

I usually don't go to bars or clubs with the intent of picking up a guy. Sometimes it happens, but most of the time I'm there to have a good time with my friends and get a little tipsy. Not tonight. Tonight I am here to get drunk and to get laid. It's one of those nights where the only way I'm going to escape life for a while is to get hammered and make bad decisions. Lately life has given me one punch in the gut after the other so I need a win.

I've already spotted my target. I've been watching him on and off for the last 45 minutes. He's tall, tatted, handsome. Built like an ox but hasn't said much all night. The guys he's with have all the energy and he's the observer. We've locked eyes a few times throughout the night but he'd always just look away. I'm not sure it's me he even saw. It's a bit busy in here tonight.

I watch as his friends try to convince him to go to the club with them but he insists they go on without him. He's nursing the rest of his beer so if I'm going to make a move it's gotta be now. I push any thoughts of doubt out of my mind. I need to just go for it. No more waiting for something to happen. If I want it to happen I’m going to have to make it happen myself. And what I want is for him to take me home and make me forget all of my problems, something I thought the alcohol was going to do but it’s done a shitty job so far.

I sit on the open stool next to him and lean on my elbow on the bar. "You should have gone with them. They look like fun."

He looks at me with a raised eyebrow, intensity in his eyes, then just looks down at the bar and shakes his head. "I'm not interested in the fun they're looking for tonight."

I inch closer to him. "What kind of fun are you looking for? I'm looking for some fun myself." I place my hand delicately on his forearm, not sure of how he's going to react to it. He flexes under my touch but doesn't pull away. "Some anonymous fun just for tonight. To escape life for a while." I give him my best I want to fuck you eyes and hope he feels the same way about me.

"I'm looking for the kind where I finish this beer and head home."

"That doesn't sound very fun at all, unless you're taking me with you."

"That is the fun I'm trying to avoid."

"Shame." I drink the last bit of my drink and call the bartender over. I'm not going to be taking no for an answer tonight and he's the one I want, I need, to take my mind off of everything. I order us a few rounds of shots. "You need something stronger." I hope he doesn't reject me. My experience with men is that most of the time they can't resist shots with an attractive woman, no matter how hard they want to fight it.

To my surprise, he picks up the shot glass and looks me dead in the eyes as he takes it. Suddenly it's about fifty degrees hotter in here and I think you could hear my heart beating from across the bar. "Aren't you going to have yours?" He has a cheeky tone in his voice, knowing that my panties have disintegrated into nothing simply by the way he's looking at me.

I almost forgot. I can barely remember my own name as he continues to look at me with those eyes. "Of course." I take my shot while keeping eye contact with him, the same as he did with me. "Another?"

"Why do you want to escape so badly?"

"Rough week, month, year. I just wanna feel good tonight, for once." Does he really want to know? I want to skip the life stories and get right to being naked.

He picks up a shot glass and hands it to me before picking one up for himself. "I hear that."

We do a few more shots and I'm trying to study him, but I can't get a read on him. I can't tell if this is going somewhere or if he just wants to get drunk with me and leave. He's not exactly flirting, but he's not rejecting my advances either. He's a bit mysterious how he sits there not saying much with his mouth, but saying everything with his eyes. He needs this as much as I do, whatever this turns out to be. I can tell.

“We can continue to do this or we can get out of here for some fun. I know you want fun. Why deny yourself? Let’s get out of here.”

He stares me down, pursing his lips together. Is he actually thinking or does he just want to watch me squirm? “One more drink then I’ll get us an Uber.”

“You’re serious?” I was almost expecting for him to turn me down again.

“I’m serious. You wore me down.”

“Don’t act like I’m forcing you.”

“You are.” The ends of his mouth curl up into a smirk.

He wants to act all innocent but he’s got a bad side to him and it comes through more and more as the night goes on. He’s not fooling me. We each have one more drink before closing out the tab and heading outside to wait for our Uber. I am still surprised that we are about to go back to his place. I’m not nervous. I thought I’d be nervous. I look up at him and he’s staring at his phone, jaw clenched. I can’t help thinking about all of the things I want to do with him. I can’t wait to kiss those pillowy lips of his.

He leans in close to talk to me. “He’s almost here.” He awkwardly places his hand on my back, almost wrapping his arm around me but changing his mind halfway through. I feel him relax a few seconds later. The last thing I want is for him to feel awkward around me. The whole point of leaving together is to feel good and have some meaningless sex.

When we get in the car I lean up against him and to my surprise he doesn’t tense up when I do. It’s nice. The one thing I notice is that he is so warm. He must be nice to snuggle up against on a cold day. That is something I definitely should not be thinking about right now. This is going to be a one night stand. Anonymous sex. One and done. A no sleepover situation. The walk of shame. All of those cliché phrases that means I will never see him or think about him again.

The ride is quiet, but not awkward. The alcohol is really starting to hit me, now that we’ve left the bar. I can feel myself smiling like a dopey idiot. I’ve accomplished what I set out to do tonight. I just hope it’s worth it. I hope that it does help me escape the way I need it to.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he mutters in my ear, sending chills down my spine, making me wish this guy would drive 50 miles per hour faster than he is right now.

“I’m good. You good?”

“I’m great.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Good.”

For some reason this doesn’t feel like I’m about to go home with some random guy and have sloppy drunk sex. My limited experience has been that we are all over each other from the bar to wherever we’re going. Kissing, touching, flirting. There’s really been none of that here. I wonder if I’m making a mistake, that I was too eager, that I’m going to be left wanting more.

I quickly learn that not only are we not on the same page, but that he’s also full of surprises when the car pulls up to Top Golf and stops, not his house, where I thought we were going. We get out of the car. I can’t believe I thought he was taking me home with him. I should have known. I should have listened to my instincts. Maybe I should have been more specific.

“You know this isn’t the kind of fun I was talking about, right?”

“It’s not?”

I have no idea if he’s being serious or if he’s messing with me. “No. It’s not.”

“Oops. We might as well go in, we’re here.”

“This is really what you want to do?”

“You want fun. This is fun.”

“If you say so.”

He places both hands on my shoulders. “I promise you’ll have a good time.”

"Allriiiiiight. I'm counting on you."

"Mini golf or driving range?"

I can't believe he's serious. "I'm feeling adventurous tonight so driving range. I've never done it before."

He grins. "This should be interesting."

We head inside, choose a bay, order drinks and food, and get started on whatever is happening right now. At this point I'm just going with the flow.

He sits down in front of the scoring screen. "We have to put our names in for the scoring. What's yours? I'll put them in."

"This is supposed to be anonymous fun."

He rolls his eyes. "Fine. Nicknames?"

"Perfect."

"What should I put for you?"

"My friends call me Bunny."

"That's cute. Bunny it is."

I watch as he enters my name, then his. "Why are you Chubbs?"

"Just a nickname that stuck. Why are you Bunny?"

"Because I have endless energy. I go go go."

He raises an eyebrow and looks back over his shoulder at me. "Not other reasons?"

I smile. “There might be.”

He smirks before standing up. “The clubs are over there. We each are going to get ten turns to hit the targets. The harder the target, the more points you get.”

“Wait. Hold up. I thought I was just gonna be hitting a bunch of balls. There’s points involved?”

“Yeah. It’s a game. It’s just for fun, though.”

“Alright.”

“You take your club, wave it over here like this, and a ball will pop out.” He shrugs. “Then you just hit it. Don’t let go of the club, though.”

“I won’t. What do you think I am?”

He gets all in my face. “Drunk.” He belly laughs and I can’t help laughing too. “Do you want me to show you how to hold the club, how to swing well?”

“As tempting as that offer is I think I can handle it. Thank you.” I start to step up to take my turn, but then look back at him. “If you get that close to me, touch me, then golf is the last thing I’m going to want to do.”

"Don't you wanna go hard and deep, though?" Putting purposeful emphasis on hard and deep, obviously to drive me crazy..

Unexpected. I almost drop my club “Ok, yeah, let’s just get out of here.”

“Go. Hit the ball. It’ll make you feel better.”

He's actually torturing me now. And enjoying it. How can he flirt like that and act like it's nothing? I normally hate games, but I like this game he's playing. One look from him and I am a puddle of goo. Each word out of his mouth is carefully selected and has a purpose. He knows exactly what he's doing and it only makes me want him more.

The waitress comes over and drops off our drinks and food so I take a long sip of my drink before going back to the tee to take my shot. I try to focus on the ball as I can feel his eyes burning a hole in me. I don’t dare look at him because I will lose my concentration. I’ve only ever played mini golf and never actually driven a ball before so this should be interesting. I will be happy with any kind of contact with the ball.

I’ve seen this done a billion times, ok maybe not that much, but enough for it not to be impossible to do. Sure, I’m feeling a little loose but it’s not like I’m trying to perform brain surgery. All I have to do is hit the ball out there somewhere. I grip the club the way I think I should and I swing back and hit the ball. It is not graceful and I barely touch it and the ball weakly goes off to the side. How embarrassing.

He stands up and walks towards me. "What was that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Not everyone can be professional golfers like you apparently are."

"I'm not, but my two year old niece has a better swing than that."

"I'm in heels and I'm drunk."

"Excuses. I’m drunk too."

"I don't know you well enough to have to take this abuse from you, you know."

"You should take your heels off "

"If you wanted me to get undressed, you should have just taken me back to your place."

“It’ll be way easier but go ahead and be stubborn if you want.”

I take my heels off and my feet feel a hundred percent better. I also feel significantly shorter standing in front of him now. "Now I can be Tiger Woods."

He laughs. "I wouldn't go that far. At least better than a two year old I hope."

“Let’s see what you got, Chubbs.” I sit down and lean back on the couch and watch as he grabs a club and steps up to the machine. He is one beautiful sight of a man.

“Watch closely.”

“Believe me, I am, there is nothing that could make me take my eyes off of you.”

He bashfully smiles and looks at the ground before moving his ball to where he wants it. He explains to me how and why he grips the club the way that he is, tells me the proper way to swing the club, what to do with my hips, everything I need to know to do better in my next turn. He hits the ball and looks way more graceful than I did. There’s a satisfying tink sound when the club hits the ball. It lands close to the target but doesn’t hit it. He mutters under his breath at himself. How could he be angry at that? To me it looked perfect. He turns towards me. “You think you got it now?”

“I think so.”

I feel a lot more sturdy without my heels on. I am feeling more confident in myself this time. I am going to crush this ball. I try to remember everything he was saying to me but it was hard to concentrate on the words when there are so many other things to focus on. His perfectly kissable lips, those dark brown eyes that I just can't get enough of, the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man or a woman. I could go on. I take a swing and this time I can feel the contact with the ball. It goes flying and I jump up and down. "I did it! I did it!" I could not be more proud of myself.

He darts up from the chair. "That was great! Way to go, Bunny!" He holds his hand up for a high five and I smack it. "Felt good, didn't it?" He hugs me.

"Felt really good." I look up at him smiling and he's looking down at me. "This feels good too."

He smiles and licks his lower lip. "You're gonna be harder competition than I thought."

“You said it’s just for fun.”

“Mhmm. Winning is fun.” He nudges me a few times with the cutest smile on his face. I can’t help giggling. I love that he’s starting to let go and be happy. He looked so sad in the bar and here he seems to be in his element.

I pick up the menu. “I’m going to order myself a drink. Want one?”

“Don’t you think you should go easy on the drinks?”

“I’ll be fiiiiiine. It’ll just be one. Maybe two. Want one? Oh my god orange dream sounds amazing. I’m ordering two and you can have one if you want.”

He grins. “We’ll see.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay for them.”

“Nonsense. Order whatever you want. I got it.”

“You sure? I don’t mind. I’m not trying to play games or anything.”

“I’m sure. I wanted to come here and I’d never let a woman pay. It was nice of you to offer, though.”

“Ok. If you change your mind let me know.”

He steps up to his ball and hits it so, so far. “I won’t.” He smiles. “Your turn.”

I get up and grab my club. "If the waitress comes by can you order those two orange dreams for me?"

"Yeah. I can. Still think you should go easy."

"They water the drinks down at these places. I'll be fine. It's cute that you're so worried, though.”

“You’re cute.” He says it low and bashful and has made himself blush, but he has the most adorable smile on his face that he couldn’t fight even though he is trying his hardest.

I think I’m blushing too. I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t sure he was even into me. “Thanks.” I can’t fight this dumb smile on my face either. He’s got me all flustered now. The first time I swing at the ball I miss it entirely. “Fuck!” I look back to see that he’s busy ordering from the waitress and didn’t see my epic fail so I play it off and go again like it was my first time. I try to concentrate on the ball but I can’t help looking back and watching him. He’s so damn attractive that it hurts not to be close to him. I actually connect with my second attempt and I actually hit one of the targets. I wasn’t even trying. “I hit it! Did you see? I hit the target!”

He looks up on the screen and sees the score. “Sweet! I saw! I ordered drinks and some more food. Are you cool with nachos and chips and guac?”

“I am very ok with those things. Thank you.”

He walks very close to me on the way to take his shot and stops while he’s right next to me and leans down. “I saw you miss, by the way.”

“Maybe I need you to show me how to swing after all.”

“I thought you couldn’t handle it.” He’s still talking directly into my ear, which is making me weak in the knees.

“I want it anyway.”

“Too bad it’s my turn.” He leans against me for a second before walking away. I watch that perfect ass walk all the way to the tee. I’ve decided that watching him play is way more fun than getting up there and making a fool out of myself every time.

I step up to take my turn. “I’d like that help now, if you’re still offering.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I’m still offering.” He starts to position himself behind me and just as he is about to get right up against me and hold onto my hands his phone rings. He mutters several curses under his breath and steps back. “It’s my brother. I gotta take this. I won’t be long. Just go ahead and take your turn.”

I sigh. Of course his brother would call. He was close enough for me to feel the heat off of his body and the anticipation of his hands on me has gotten my heart racing. I don’t want to go. I want to wait, but I don’t want to seem desperate so I take my turn and it’s ok. I am not going to be a golf master any time soon.

He ends his phone call rather quickly, but not before our food and drinks get brought to us. I sit down and wait for him to join me before digging in. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be. Family's important."

He nods. "Yeah. Very."

"Is….. everything ok?"

"Yup. He just got out of work and wanted to talk. I'll catch up with him later."

"Or tomorrow."

He blushes. "We'll see."

We eat our food and have our drinks before he takes his next shot. For this being an anonymous night we sure are learning a lot about each other and having great conversation. No names, though, we have both agreed that it would be more fun that way. We are going to stick with Bunny and Chubbs. I am having one of the best nights of my life. This has been so unexpected and fun and taking my mind off of everything that’s been getting me down lately. Chubbs might just be my new hero.

“I was wrong about those drinks, they were not as watered down as I thought they’d be. I’m cool, though. Ice cold.”

He chuckles. “Is that so?”

“It’s soooo so.”

“Alright then, ice queen, I believe it’s my turn.”

“Kick that ball’s ass, Chubbs!”

“I will. Just for you, Bunny.”

I get all giddy when he says my name, well, my nickname. I’ll never look at it the same way again. My friends call me it as a goof almost, but to him that’s who I am. I didn’t think I could have this much fun with a stranger. Talking with him at the bar, I would have never thought this is how my night would end up. I really thought I was going to be leaving alone. He has a cocky swagger as he walks up to take his turn. He looks back at me before he goes, perhaps to make sure that I’m watching him.

I never thought I would ever have this much fun doing anything golf related. I am going to have to come back here with my friends. Chubbs and I continue on with our game and of course he gets more points than me. That was never a question. Golf is obviously something he loves and this was my first time and it doesn’t help that I’m drunk. I wonder if I would do any better while sober. I’ll have to find out at some point.

As our number of rounds start to wind down I start to wonder what comes next. I want to keep hanging out with him. My initial intentions are still there, maybe even stronger than before. I wonder if he will want to continue the night or just go home. We have been flirting the whole time, but I still can’t get a great read on him when it comes to his intentions.

He shakes my hand. “Good game.” He looks at the floor and then all around. “There’s other things we can do here if you want.”

I smile. He wants to keep hanging out, that’s a good sign. I really want to get him alone, though. “Did you wanna get out of here? We can go to my place or your place...if that’s something you want to do.”

“Your place is good.”

My whole face lights up. I was kind of expecting him to turn me down. “It is?”

“Yeah.”

I immediately take my phone out and open Uber to get us a ride to my place. “We should wait outside.”

“In a hurry?” he asks in that asmused at himself tone that I’ve gotten used to. He loves to tease. It’s annoying how much I like it.

“Maybe a little.” I start to walk away.

“You’re gonna leave your shoes here?”

I stop and turn around. He has the biggest grin on his face. I am so happy I amuse him so much. “Oops.” I put them back on. “Now we can go.” He is close behind me, not touching, but close enough that it feels like he is.

It feels as if life is going in slow motion as I watch the little car on the Uber app inch through the map on its way to us. I wasn’t sure this moment was actually going to happen and I really don’t want to give him time to change his mind. No matter what happens when we get to my place doesn’t matter anymore. I just don’t want this night to end. I’m not ready to say goodbye forever to him just yet.

“You’re impatient.” I can hear the amusement in his voice as he looks over my shoulder at my screen.

“I always watch the map.”

“You like to be in control.”

I shrug. “Depends.”

He leans in close. ��I do.”

I feel that in all of the right places and it takes everything in me not to jump on him right here and now. “Where is this fucking car?”

He points at my screen. “Right there.” I look at him in almost disbelief. Who is this man and why is he drawing me in like this? His shoulders shake as he chuckles to himself.

I bite my lower lip. He’s charming without even trying. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone so badly in my entire life. The car pulls up in front of us. “And here it is.”

The vibe in this Uber is way different than the vibe in the Uber on the way here. I can tell he wants me. His body language is the polar opposite. On the way here he was so tense and standoffish, now he is more relaxed and he couldn’t be closer to me. Our legs rub up against each other and I smile. Any contact with him sends electricity through my veins. He very confidently places his hand on my thigh and leaves it there. He wouldn't dare think about touching me on the way here. I rub his hand with mine, then move it back to my lap.

I continue to watch the map as we get on our way, purely out of habit. “Should be there in about fifteen minutes,” I mutter to him, as if I don’t want the driver to hear me. I have no idea why. It’s not like he doesn’t know. I rest my head on his arm. I guess I’m feeling more comfortable too, no longer worried about scaring him away. He agreed to come home with me and we both know where this is headed. I feel the weight of his head on mine and can't help smiling. It's been entirely too long since I've been this close to anyone. It feels nice. It doesn't matter that I don't know his name, this is exactly what I needed.

When we get up to my door I have a bit of a difficult time finding my keys in my purse. I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face as I continue to struggle. I finally grab them and fumble with them as I try to get my key in the lock.

He chuckles. “Are you sure you live here?”

“Yes I live here. I’m just…” I finally get the key in the keyhole.

“Drunk.”

“I got it in, didn’t I?” I open the door and we step in. “Here we are.”

He looks around. “This is nice. Bigger than I thought it would be.”

“It’s a great space. I lucked out on getting it. There were a few people interested. Do you want the grand tour?”

“Sure.”

I take him all around my place, unsure if he actually wants to know about any of this stuff. I walk through as fast as I can so I don’t bore him to death. Of course I save my bedroom for the end of the tour, that’s the most important room.

"This is my bedroom, ya know, where the magic happens."

"Magic, eh? Full of yourself."

"I practice my card tricks in here. What are youuuuu referring to?"

"You can do card tricks? Show me."

I laugh entirely too hard. Of course he called me on my bluff. "I can't! I don't know any." I go into a fit of giggles. “I was just joking. Ever hear of one?”

He smiles. "You're so drunk."

"Takes one to know one, bud." I poke his chest and he watches my finger as I do it. “Besides, I’m not that drunk anymore.”

“Still pretty drunk.”

“I blame all of those extra Top Golf drinks.”

“You mean the ones I told you to go easy on?”

“Mhmm. Yup. Those would be the ones.”

He takes a quick look around. “Cozy.”

“Maybe you’ll find out just how cozy later.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Later?”

“Yeah, I saved the best for last. Wanna see the roof?”

“You’re not going to push me off, are you?”

I laugh. “Nah. Too messy.”

The rooftop terrace is the main reason why I bought this condo. Situations like this is why I wanted a rooftop terrace. I bring a good looking guy home and get to say the line, wanna go up to the roof? And the roof is actually the best part of the whole place. It’s private, cozy, romantic, and all mine. I keep telling myself I am going to start a garden up here, but it’s probably never going to happen.

“I only moved in a month ago so I haven’t finished decorating up here.” Right now all I have is seating and a few tables. Some are single seats and some can seat two or more people.

“You should put an outdoor chess table over there.”

“A chess table? On no. You’re a nerd, aren’t you? I brought a nerd home with me. What have I done? How did this happen?”

"Takes one to know one." He smiles, so proud of himself.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. So funny. A game isn’t a bad idea, but not chess.” We sit down on one of the couches. For outdoor furniture, it is pretty comfortable.

“This is pretty nice. Do you spend a lot of time up here?”

“Yeah, most of my time. I love being outside and I could do a lot of things on my iPad. I want to get a fire pit, I just haven’t decided on which one yet. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“If you can’t have a backyard this is the next best thing, for sure.”

"Yeah. I want a house eventually, but this will do for now. I love it."

Something in the corner catches his eye and I follow his eyes to try to figure out what he's so fascinated with. "What's in there?"

I finally realize he's looking at the cabinet. "Oh! Come with me. I'll show you." I love showing off everything I've bought for up here. I think my friends are a little sick of it so I'm glad I have someone new to show. I open the cabinet to reveal all of the goodies I have stored in there. "I may have gone a little crazy. There's the hammock. I don't like to have it out all of the time since it takes up so much room. I have extra blankets and pillows for when I wanna get snuggled up out here so I don't have to go back inside to get any."

"Smart."

"Thank you. I have these little heaters for when it gets cold, and I plan to get one of those tall ones eventually. A broom and some other boring stuff and that's about it."

"Looks like you're prepared for any situation."

"I try to be. It's also a bit of laziness because once I'm out here I don't want to have to go in and out to get stuff."

"And yet you don't have a fridge or cooler out here."

"It's a work in progress. It's on the list, believe me. I still have a lot of plans for this place. It’s my chance at a fresh start.”

“Seems like a good place to start to me.”

I nod. “I hope so.”

"So, who are you trying to forget tonight?"

"I never said it was a who."

"It's always a who."

"Who is your who then?"

He shakes his head. "Mmmno. I asked you first."

"It's a lot of different things, not just a guy."

"But there is a guy."

"Was a guy. What about you?"

"No guy for me."

"Who's the girl, smartass?"

"I never said I was trying to forget anyone."

"But you are. That's why you're here."

"I'm here because you're persistent."

"Is that all?"

"That's all."

I could bring up the fact he has a tattoo on his bicep that's a heart with KT in the middle, but I don't want to scare him off. He obviously doesn't want to talk about it. I've made it this far, it's better to just drop it and move on.

I take a deep breath. "We were in bed one night. Nothing crazy or unusual. We were just on our phones, about to go to sleep. He turns to me and says 'remember when we were happy?' which confused the hell out of me because I thought we were happy. I thought things were perfect. Looking back on it now I know they weren't perfect but they seemed like it at the time. I was happy, though. I didn't need perfect. I just needed us. I still...I miss him?" I figure if I open up maybe he will too.

"You don't sound sure."

"Maybe I just miss what we had. That's never coming back whether we're together or not. He wasn't happy and there was nothing I could do to change that."

"And you think tonight is gonna help."

"It has already."

He grins. "Told you."

"You know what? I'm tired of your smug and cocky attitude."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am." I go to playfully push him but he grabs my wrists and stops me.

"You're blushing." I try to pull away but he's got a good grip on me. Not hurting me, but way stronger than I am. "Not so fast."

I'm too drunk to even attempt to hide the giddy smile on my face. He smiles back at me with those dimples and crinkle eyes that I've been falling for all night. "It'll be way more fun if you let go."

He hesitates but then slowly lets go and I try to tickle him but he stops me again. "What are you doing?" He's amused. He continues smiling and stumbles a bit.

I laugh as I try to hold him up, as if I'm doing anything. If he were to actually fall we'd both be on the floor. "You ok there, wobbles?"

He looks me in the eyes and sways a little bit. "Fine."

"Are you gonna tell me about your who?"

He shakes his head. "No." He runs his fingers through my hair. We haven't broken eye contact this whole time. All I want is for him to kiss me, although I could look into his eyes all night and be perfectly fine with that.

He slowly leans in and kisses me. I'm a little in shock at first. I was beginning to think it wasn't going to happen. He holds onto the back of my head and I kiss him back. I never want it to end. We deepen the kiss and it becomes more passionate. It’s very intimate for two people who just met, who don’t even know each other’s names. We become more and more desperate for each other and our hands begin to wander and explore each other’s bodies.

He runs his hands up and down my back, his fingertips just graze my ass and start to wander back up. I almost whimper and his hands stray further and further away from my ass. I want him to grab it, push me up against a wall, and have his way with me. I slip my hands under his shirt to touch the skin on his back. I am craving skin contact and need to touch more. He’s taking his time with his hands exploring my body and normally I would get impatient and want to get right to the action, but kissing him and feeling his hands all over me is a new form of heaven I didn’t know existed.

He finally caresses my ass as he moves from my lips to my neck and I swear my pants evaporate from the heat my body is generating. His hands mirror mine and go under my shirt and it’s electricity through my veins when he makes contact. I kiss around his ear. “Just take it off,” I say, almost in a whisper, in his ear.

He kisses up my neck and to my ear as he messes with my bra. I’d be impressed if he could unclasp it like this. “Can people see us?”

“I don’t know, but we can go inside if you want.” His ass has been calling my name all night so I take this opportunity to grab it and it’s so much nicer than I thought. I don’t move my hands, I am going to be touching this all damn night.

He makes a noise in my ear and nibbles on my earlobe. It seems as if he’s enjoying it as much as I am. “Yes. Inside. Now.”

I smile and kiss him nice and long before grabbing his hand and taking him inside. Somehow he had gotten my bra unclasped so I take it off from under my shirt and leave it on the chair in my office, which is what leads out to the roof. Before we get any further he stops us, holds onto my hips, and kisses me. His lips are perfect and I wish I could kiss him all night. I know I’m drunk so I’m trying not to be a drunken, sloppy mess about it. I want him to want to kiss me all night as well.

We get to my bedroom and he kicks his sneakers off right away, then he takes his hat off and places it on my dresser. His hair flops down into his face and he runs his fingers through it to push it back on his head and out of his eyes. How have I spent all of this time with him and not known that he has the greatest hair known to man. It’s like porn. It just falls right back into his face. I run my fingers through it for him this time and he smiles as he leans down to kiss me again. He hovers in front of my lips, just out of reach, and rubs his nose along mine. The tease. I palm him through his jeans and he bucks his hips towards my hand. I don’t mind taking our time, but I am not going to be teased. I fucking want him and want him right now.

When I set out tonight I was hoping to have some sloppy, drunk, meaningless sex. I did not expect to meet a guy, go out on a date, take him back to my place, and have some of the best sex of my life but that is exactly what has happened. I thought it needed to be anonymous and a one night thing and I’d never have to see him again, but how can I let this guy walk out of my life forever after tonight? I can’t. I have a feeling he feels the same way. I hope he does anyway. As we lie in my bed catching our breath I wonder if these same thoughts are going through his head. It’s still so hard to read him. All I know is that he definitely had as good of a time as I did.

"You should stay. There’s a great view of the sunrise from the roof." This is going against everything I thought tonight was going to be, not like the rest of it has gone to plan. I don't even know what's happening anymore. "Unless you have somewhere to be in the morning."

"Nowhere to be. I can stay." His voice is soft. I don't think he's believing tonight was real either.

“I can get a blanket from the cabinet. They’re nice and fluffy.”

“Do you want to go back up there now? It’s a nice night.”

“Are you sick of seeing me naked already? Alright, I get the hint.” I nudge him and laugh. We probably should get out of bed, though, I don’t want to get too used to him being here.

He laughs and nudges me back. “If we stay here longer I’ll wind up falling asleep and I’ll miss it.”

“You’re right.” I sit up and he runs his hand up and down my back. I can’t help smiling. “I’m gonna put sweats and a shirt on if that’s ok with you.”

“Whatever you want.”

We clean ourselves up in my bathroom before getting dressed. I grab some water from my fridge before we head outside just in case we get thirsty. It’s the perfect night to stay up and watch the sunrise. It’s not too cold, there really isn’t any kind of breeze even. The sky is clear so if I didn’t live in the middle of a big city I bet we’d see a sky full of stars. He sits on the couch and I get a blanket from the cabinet. I hate to admit that I am really looking forward to snuggling with him. I sit next to him and we get all cuddled up under the blanket.

We talk a little bit about my other plans for the deck and he tells me about his first apartment he lived in when he moved to Dallas. I love talking to him, nothing is awkward. The conversation is flowing and I feel like we have a nice connection. No matter what happens after he leaves tonight, this has been pretty special. We might also be doing a little bit of kissing in between talking and that doesn’t hurt either.

“I do have a who.” We hadn’t spoken in a few minutes but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was a silence that let us enjoy the night sky and gave us time to think about what’s gone on tonight so far.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s ok. I want to.” He sighs and pulls me closer to him and mindlessly traces circles on my arm. “We were starting to grow apart. We had our own careers, our own goals. We did the long distance thing for a while but it wasn’t working out so we took a break. I think it hit me way harder than it hit her and I probably should have taken that as a sign that it was time to move on, but I didn’t. We tried again but it just wasn’t the same. It was hard to admit but it just wasn’t working anymore.”

“That sucks. You think you’re with the person you’re going to spend the rest of your life with and then you gotta start all over again.”

“I wasn’t looking to just yet. I don’t know what I want right now.”

“You don’t have to know yet.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what I want either. Tonight was not something I regularly do.”

“Same goes for me.”

“The one night stand part or the taking a random stranger on a date part?”

He grins, showing those irresistible dimples. “Both.”

“Well, it was a pretty great night, so thank you.”

“You came up to me and wouldn’t give up so I should be thanking you too.”

“You thanked me a few times already.”

He blushes and buries his face in my hair. “That was fun.”

“I told you.”

He belly laughs and pulls my head to rest on his shoulder. We still have a little while until the sun rises but we find ways to occupy ourselves until then. When I first saw this rooftop deck this is exactly what I imagined I’d be doing on it, I just never thought it would actually come true. I couldn’t have asked for a better night escaping all of my problems. I know they’ll be there to deal with tomorrow, but it was great to escape them for one night. I hope I helped him escape for a little while too.

By the time the sun starts to rise we are both sober and struggling to stay awake, but we manage to see the whole thing and it does not disappoint. The sky is covered with yellow and orange as the sun says good morning. I am happy I asked him to stay and that he agreed to. I always feel that when I start my day off with a beautiful sunrise, that it’s going to be a good day. I would normally take a picture of it, but I’m too busy watching him be in awe. I never knew that when I bought this place that I would have the best view in the city.

I sigh, knowing that he’s probably going to be leaving soon and not knowing what the future holds for us. I could offer to make breakfast. He said he didn’t have anywhere to be today. I think I’m too tired to move, though. We do have to sleep at some point. I could ask him to come back inside and sleep the day away with me but I think that’s a little too ambitious. I try to study his face and get some kind of idea what he’s thinking. I see joy in his eyes so maybe there’s a chance.

He looks at me smiling. “This is amazing. I’m glad I stayed.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I am exhausted and should probably go home and get some sleep.”

My heart sinks a little. “I’d offer to drive you but I’d never make it back. I’m pretty tired myself.”

“I’ll take an Uber.”

We stand up and I fold up my blanket and put it back in the cabinet. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Thanks.”

We make it to the door and I decide that I’m going to let this be what it was supposed to be, a one night thing. Although, it’s pretty much killing me that I don’t even know his name. I should not have made that stupid rule. He hugs me before opening the door. I hug him back and don’t want to let go, but I know I have to so I do.

It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open at this point but I look up at him just to get one last look before he goes. “I know we agreed no names, but I would really like to know yours.”

He shrugs. “That’s what next time is for.”

#jamie benn #puckingwrites #one shot #fan fiction #hockey fan fiction #jamie benn fan fiction #jamie benn imagine #nhl fan fiction #nhl fanfiction #jamie benn fic

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eds-trashmouth · 4 years

Text

Up In Smoke

A/N: Someone teach me how to do a read more on mobile, everytime I try it doesn’t work. This was supposed to be short.

Pairing: Reddie

Up In Smoke

If you asked Eddie Kaspbrak two years ago if he’d ever be caught dead at a college party, he’d straight up laugh in your face. Eddie and parties just didn’t get along. Too many people. Too much screaming. Too many germs. Not enough hand sanitizer in the world. So why exactly is he currently sitting cross legged in a much too large bean bag chair in some grunge kid’s basement? Turns out he’s a sucker for dark curls and deep eyes.

His professor dismissed class and he was out the door. His next class was all the way across campus and he had small legs. What started as a brisk walk quickly turned into a full jog as he made his way to his math class. He was so focused on being late he didn’t see the door to the cafe opening until it hit him. Literally hit him, sending him and his entire stack of books and folders to the pavement. He was so worried about his papers at first he didn’t even realize the taller boy watching him with a warm smile. After he collected his things he finally thought to give this person a piece of his mind for hitting him with the door like that. He glared upward, finding the most beautiful guy he’d seen on campus. His curls seemed to all have a mind of their own, and his eyes glistened like the ocean during sunrise. Perhaps he’d seen too many rom coms but this was the man of his dreams. And he’d just thoroughly embarrassed himself. He was in such a daze he couldn’t even remember why he’d wanted to yell at him in the first place. They both just stared in silence for a few moments before the taller boy spoke.

“I guess you could say you really fell for me huh short stop.” The other boy grinned down at Eddie. With a scoff Eddie rolled his eyes and quickly looked away. Maybe he was concealing a blush, maybe he wasn’t.

“Not even! You hit me, remember? If anything I fell BECAUSE of you.” He glanced to his watch, he was sure he’d be late by now.

“Then I thoroughly apologize, my good sir. Let me make it up to you.” His voice suddenly shifted to an absolutely horrible British accent, making Eddie’s nose scrunch up before he glanced back down.

“How would you do that exactly?” Eddie stood, already starting to walk at a slow pace. “I’ve got class right now so I’ve really gotta go.”

“My friend Bev is having a party this weekend. Come.” He didn’t move from his spot, raising his voice for Eddie to hear.

“You don’t even know my name.” Eddie didn’t turn around. He was too late to be worrying about a party he’d never go to. “I’m sorry, I really gotta go.”

“I’d like to know.”

He kept walking.

That was on Tuesday. By Wednesday he’d decided he was maybe too harsh on this mystery guy. He shouldn’t have just walked away like that. Thursday brought even more regret about never getting his name or an address to that party. Even though he’s never go of course. Friday was like a miracle. His roommate, and best friend, Bill came barreling into their dorm shouting about some hottie that invited him to a party. Named Beverly.

They’d been there about two minutes before Bill made an excuse to find Beverly. Leaving Eddie to fend for himself at a strangers house. It took longer than it should’ve to find the kitchen and procure a drink for himself before finding the basement. So here he was, trying desperately not to touch anything. Sitting in some bean bag chair. Silently hoping the discomfort didn’t show on his face. There weren’t nearly as many people downstairs as there was up, but that didn’t make him feel anymore relaxed.

There was a pool table in the corner of the basement with a decent crowd around it. One corner was a group of girls just giggling away at some jock, and the next was a small circle of people passing around a joint. Eddie had never thought about smoking in the past but he wasn’t necessarily against the idea. Just not at a party with a bunch of strangers. He sat there with his solo cup in his hands, and his hands in his lap. He just glanced around for a little while, before his eyes met his cup and stayed there. Why was he here? He didn’t even like parties. He hadn’t even seen his mystery guy yet. Maybe it was a different Bev? This sucked.

“Hey short stop. Fancy meeting you here.” A body plopped down on the bean bag chair next to him. He watched his drink slosh in the cup before settling once the chair stop moving. He looked up at the boy next to him. Met with a beautiful smile and those ocean eyes. Eddie couldn’t help but swallow.

“Uh, hi. My friend Bill got invited, so here I am.” Eddie rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, one of his ticks.

“Well, you got invited as well. Before you ran off on me.” The boy smiled but it didn’t seem as bright as before.

“Oh...yeah. I’m sorry about that, I was late for class. And I dropped my books. And I was just flustered.” He looked down to hide the obvious blush he felt across his face. He felt the other boy shift a little next to him. Looking up he was met with another bright smile and a small laugh.

“I didn’t mean to get you all flustered,” he looked to Eddie’s cheeks before continuing. “Well, maybe I did. It looks mighty cute on you I must say.”

The blush on Eddie’s cheeks burned brighter.

“What’s your name? You can’t keep flirting with me without telling me your name.”

“Feisty I see. Perfect. Richie Tozier, at your service sir.” He put on another terrible British accent before thrusting his hand out for Eddie to shake. “And, who might you be? M’lord.”

Eddie took his hand into his and laughed a little too loudly before answering.

“Eddie Kaspbrak. Nice to meet you Richie.” He hated the formality of his voice.

“So, Eds. What are ya doing all by yourself? This is a party. What happened to Bill?” Eddie sighed before looking down once again.

“I’m not really a party person. And Bill left me to go find Beverly or something. I’m fine here. People can uh, make me anxious.” Everything suddenly felt too quiet as Richie sat there with nothing to say. Eddie was about to apologize for his weirdness when Richie stood up.

“Then let’s go. I know a place that’s quiet. No people. And I’ve got a little weed too.” He reached out his hand for the smaller boy. Eddie wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, and he wasn’t sure this wasn’t some plan to get him alone and murder him. But he didn’t think it was. So, he grabbed Richie’s hand and followed him out of the house.

Richie led him to a large hammock on the side of the house. No one was outside, especially on the side. Just like Richie promised. Eddie could feel himself relaxing already. Richie opened the hammock and slide inside. He patted next to him.

“Pop a squat Ed boy. It’s big enough for the both of us.” Without second thought Eddie slid in too. Their bodies were pressed together so closely Eddie was sure Richie could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Eddie decided to scoot before he’d died. Putting just enough room between them that they weren’t touching. If Richie minded he didn’t show it.

“Alright Eds. How do you want it?”

“Excuse me.” Eddie’s voice cracked as he looked at the other boy, baffled.

Richie was digging into his pocket and pulled out an old Altoids tin. He brought it out with a boisterous laugh.

“Relax Spaghetti, I meant joint or blunt.” Eddie cringed at the nickname.

“I’m drawing the line at Spaghetti. The others were bad but that’s just awful.” Another blush appeared on his cheeks. “But, uh, I haven’t smoked before. So. I don’t...really know.”

“Oh, I guess I just assumed. It’s college so everyone I’ve met smokes. We don’t have to.” He started to put away the tin.

“No! No, we can. I just. I used to have asthma. So, I don’t exactly know...how.” Eddie looked down once again, slightly embarrassed. Richie just smiled down at him and pulled a joint out of his tin.

“I’ll teach you, and you don’t have to hit it if you change your mind.” He fished a lighter out of his other pocket and flicked it. Eddie watched as he touched the paper to the fire and the flames seemed to lick the joint to life. Richie touched it to his lips as smoke began spilling off. He inhaled and the cherry started to glow even brighter. Eddie was in a trance, watching Richie’s mouth pucker slightly to fit the joint, and smoke roll out as he exhaled. The smoke danced across his features as Eddie thought to himself just how beautiful the taller boy was.

“Do you wanna try?” Richie caught his eyes and held out the joint. Eddie mustered up everything he could to nod and grab it. He placed it between his lips, trying to copy Richie’s prior movements, and inhaled. It took exactly .5 seconds for Eddie to explode into a coughing fit. Holding the joint out for Richie to take it back. Richie took it immediately, smiling silently. Eddie suddenly felt a hand begin to rub his back. Once he’d finally finished coughing he sat up with a shy smile.

“Sorry, maybe I did it wrong.” Richie’s smile grew, it’s like his smile never left his face. Eddie really liked it. Especially when it was directed at him.

“Well, there is another way we could try.” Richie raised his eyebrow. “We could shotgun.”

“W-what’s that?” Another smile from Richie made Eddie’s insides warm.

“You just sit there, look pretty, and when I blow smoke out you breathe it in. It’s easy, I promise. Do you wanna try?” Eddie once again nodded, placing his hands in his lap.

“Uh, yeah I’ll try it out. Why not?” He let out a nervous laugh as Richie brought the joint back to his lips. Eddie watched as he inhaled but the time he held it in. Richie’s hand reached for his face, a gesture Eddie wouldn’t reject. Richie’s thumb found his mouth, slightly pulling down as a signal for him to open. Eddie opened his mouth just enough to gasp. Richie’s face was inches from his and he couldn’t look away. The look on his face had to be one of bashfulness. Eddie felt as Richie slowly blew smoke into his mouth. Their lips practically touching. He inhaled as best as he could before pulling back and holding it in a few seconds and exhaling.

“How was it? Better than before?” Richie also pulled back out of his space, smirk still evident on his face.

“Def-" his voice cracked, "Definitely. I didn't even cough that time." His eyes betrayed him, glancing down to Richie's lips as his tongue swiped along his bottom lip.

"I'm glad you enjoyed that more. Do you want another hit?" This time Richie's eyes traveled down and Eddie definitely saw that. Swallowing harshly.

"Yes. I'll take another." This time Richie left his hand on the side of Eddie's face, waiting for him to open his mouth. He parted his lips as his eyes slid closed. He felt Richie's lips grazing his own and he couldn't stop himself. He leaned in. He felt the smoke swirl between them as their lips met, finally. Richie didn't pull away, in fact he pushed closer, grabbing the back of Eddie's neck and pulling him in. By the time they parted they were both practically panting. Richie's eyes opened softly, looking down to Eddie.

"That was nice. Best smoking partner I’ve ever had.” His hand still rested on Eddie’s neck. Eddie’s mind raced, unsure where to go from here. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah. It was...nice. You’re the only smoking partner I’ve had so I suppose you’re the best as well.” It was Eddie’s turn to smirk.

“Fuckin rip my heart out why don’t ya Eds.” Richie’s laugh echoed off the exterior of the house. It might just be Eddie’s new favorite sound. He laughed with him and pushed himself back up to kiss Richie. Maybe parties weren’t his thing, and putting himself out there was scary. But, right now, lip locked with tall, dork, and handsome? He’s so glad he came.

Taglist

@richietoaster @geckolover001 @losers-gotta-stick-together @aesteddie @elhopps @mexicanqt @punkrocktozier @richietczicr @tozier-club @kristashae @princesass-theresa @dandeliontozier @doctor-lobster @queennugget3 @halfway-happy353 @reddieafterdark @beep-beep-reddie @hmufinn @stanuterus @not-reddie @curlywheelers @i-is-gazebo @temptedtozier @reddie-to-fight @girasol-eddie @mirandonsky @annoyingtozier @sedanleystanley @richieshawaiianshirts @tyrror @slingingwingingspidey @themarvelousmissmadge @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @constantreaderfool @muffin-berry @eddiekazier @reddie-to-go @did-someone-say-reddie @queen-sock @morganhoran1671 @multi-fandom-wby @castielwinovak @jawnlawk @eddiesgazebos @artemisiacrybaby @katherineni

#kat writes #reddie asf #reddie #reddie fanfic #reddie fic #reddie fanfiction #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my writing

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thegoodgayshit · 4 years

Link

Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.

Chapter Thirty-One: The Underworld and It’s Airport Security

She woke up in the lobby of a doctor’s office.

At least, that’s what it looked like. It was eerily quiet, with those plastic chairs with the huge armrests and people milling about. Some were sitting in chairs, a few standing near the bulletin board on the back wall. She saw a woman in a red coat, a man in a tie checking his watch, and a little boy holding a five dollar bill tightly in his hand. They just looked like perfectly normal mortals. Nothing out of the usual, but something about them put Luz on edge. She couldn’t place why.

There was no line for the receptionist, which Luz found odd.

She took a deep breath, and inhaled stale air, trying to remember what had just happened.

The portal. Saving Amity. Dad…

She still had Aletheia, which was resting on her finger. Luz checked her pockets. In her right was Hestia’s flame/lighter, and she ran her thumb over protectively. It was hers to carry from now on. In her other pocket, the one Hermes had been fiddling with, was a huge gold coin, with a circumference almost the size of her thumb, embezzled with the symbol of the Caduceus. She had no idea what she was going to do with that. Maybe it was an advance on a birthday gift?

In her back pocket, she pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, and when she opened it, her eyes widened. It was a circle with a line in the middle, and three flames above each section. Alador had given this to her. He’d said that Hestia was the balance between worlds.

Maybe if she ever saw him again, she’d have to tell him he’d been right. But based on her last interaction with Amity’s parents went, she doubted she’d be welcome back to the Blight manor.

“Next!”

Luz jumped. Somebody behind the receptionist counter was waving for her impatiently, and before she even realized what she was doing, she was stepping forward.

The man behind the counter was… even more off-putting than the people in the lobby. He was wearing a very expensive-looking Italian suit, and he had dark hair that was slicked back. When she walked up, he was tapping his foot, like Luz should have known to walk up quicker.

“Name?”

Luz paused. Should she reveal that? She had no idea where she was. But the tapping of his foot increased the longer she hesitated, so she just threw caution to the wind.

“Luz Noceda.”

He looked down at a paper in his hand, frowning. “I don’t see you on our list. What was your cause of death?”

“Cause of death?”

He looked up and his lips thinned. She got the feeling people asked that one a lot.

“Cause of death. I hate to break it to you, but if you’re here, it’s because you're dead. If you can’t remember how you died, and I know some mortals like to block that out, could you at least tell me where you were at your time of death?”

So that’s where she was. Some kind of in-between world between living and dying. Now that she looked back at the other patrons in the lobby, Luz was kicking herself for not picking up on it sooner. All the patients in the room were sickly pale and seemed to have a shimmer to them that she now recognized as the reason Luz had been so thrown off. They were all dead, and waiting for their turn to move on.

But was she dead too?

Luz had been fairly certain Hermes hadn’t killed her, but if she was being honest with herself, she couldn’t really remember how she’d gotten here.

She didn’t feel dead, but she took stock just to be safe. Her heart was still beating. She was still gross and exhausted from the battle on Mount Pelion. She was sweating. All good signs of being alive.

“I’m not dead. I mean, I don’t think I am.”

The man rolled his eyes, eyeing her up and down. “Look I deal with a lot of mortals like you-“ He suddenly stopped, his eyes widening the longer he looked at her. Luz figured he finally picked up on the fact that she wasn’t, in fact, dead. The surprise left his face, and it shifted back to one of disinterest.

“I can’t help you.”

“What do you mean, you can't help me?” Luz asked, peering over at the name tag on the counter. “Charon?”

His eyebrows lifted, and despite his blank face, Luz had a feeling he was pleased. “You got my name right. Most people think I have the same name as that gods forsaken horse… look, kid. You’re at the entrance to the Underworld. I don’t know exactly how or why you’re here, seeing as you’re dead, but I can’t let any of the living past this point. Policy rules and all.”

Luz frowned. What was she going to do now? Hermes hadn’t given her any kind of instruction on what to do when she got here, or where she’d even go. But she couldn’t just leave.

She wracked her brain, trying to think of everything she knew about the Greek Underworld. There was the king, the god Hades, and his wife Persephone… Charon was a familiar name, but she just couldn’t place where she’d heard it…

Then, she turned and saw that the little boy had gotten in line, the five dollar bill still clenched tightly in his hand. It clicked.

“You’re the ferryman to the Underworld.”

He nodded. “Yes indeed. And I’m on strict orders to only take the dead across the River Styx. So, I'm sorry, but you'll have to come back when you’re dead.”

“I can pay you.”

Charon hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “With what?”

“I’m not here for myself,” Luz said, finally understanding what Hermes had done. “I’m a daughter of Hermes, here on behalf of the Olympians on official business. I need to be on your next boat.”

She took out the coin, placing it confidently on the table. Charon’s eyes widened.

For a second, Luz thought he might refuse her, and she froze. She'd never even considered that Charon might not like her father or any of the other Olympians. But then, looking quickly around the room, he swiped the coin, standing up with a tight smile.

“Of course, daughter of Hermes. We’ll leave right away.”

Luz paused, turning to look at the little boy who was still waiting patiently for his turn. “Make sure you check him in too.”

Charon grimaced, but shrugged, waving him forward. The boy walked up and stood next to Luz, dropping the five in Charon’s hands. It was bright blue and plastic-looking. Canadian money.

“Name?”

“I'm Cooper!”

He huffed. “Well, we only have one of those on the list today. All right, come on then, follow closely behind this Hermes kid.” Then, under his breath, so low that Luz almost missed it, “Hades knows I don’t want that god on my bad side again.”

Charon led Luz and Cooper out of the lobby and into an elevator. Horrible 80’s music was playing when the doors finally opened, and Luz got smacked with an entirely new sight.

The Underworld.

Luz had seen it in her dreams a few times through the portal, and it was just as bleak and as terrifying as she remembered it being. The air was stale, and probably didn’t smell that great, but Luz had gotten used to Death Mist, so this was nothing. They were on a dock, coated in rotting wood and Charon led them onto a gondola with a few other souls, batting extras away as he started to push it off into a dark black river. The Styx.

When Amity had sworn she’d free Hestia, she swore on this river. Luz wondered if she’d still have fallen off the mountain if she’d been the one to cut the chains instead of her.

She looked back toward Charon and recoiled, almost falling into the water from her shock. Instead of a suit, he now wore a thick black robe. His face was sunken and skeletal like he'd been dead for several days.

Charon started to push the boat down the black river. The boat rocked, and Luz quickly sat down, her heart hammering in her chest. She was really here, and it was terrifying. She wished she wasn't alone. Willow might have put an arm around her shoulder reassuringly, and Gus would be spewing facts too fast for her to process any of this fear. Amity might have held her hand as the boat moved, and squeezed it to remind her that everything was going to be okay. Now that she'd gotten used to having her friends around, she really forgot how lonely it was to be alone.

Cooper took a seat next to her, seemingly oblivious to the terror around them, instead just watching the sights with awe.

“It's so amazing!” He whispered to her. Luz frowned. Maybe he’d hit his head before he died. Luz could think of a scroll of places better than this, including the dumpster shoot behind her Mami's apartment. But he couldn’t have been older than seven or eight, so Luz wasn’t going to be the one to break it to him.

“Yeah, it sure is,” she said, forcing a smile and hoping it wasn't a grimace.

“My mommy would love to live in a place like this,” he whispered to her, “it smells like Nana’s house by the beach. And the man pushing the boat looks just like my daddy. They have the same color hair and everything!”

Luz frowned, looking to Charon and back to Cooper. They looked nothing alike. While Charon looked like he haunted funeral homes, Cooper was blond and bright-eyed. And she hadn’t been to many beaches before, but she was certain they didn’t smell like this.

“Where’s your mommy, Cooper?”

“I dunno! She told me I was allowed to walk to the convince store and buy candy and pop.” Cooper said with a shrug, too busy leaning over the gondola towards the river to pay much attention to her.

He reached forward to stick his hand in the water, and Luz leaned forward to stop him, her gut screaming at her that it would not be good. Behind her, Charon shook his head.

“Don’t touch! You’ll burn your whole hand off.”

But as he said that, Luz touched his hand. Instead of feeling solid flesh, her hand passed right through the murky layer around him, and her whole world shifted. For just a moment, she saw things the same way he did.

Now, Charon was a tall, handsome, blond man in colorful bathing suit shorts and a white tank top. He was gently scolding Cooper, “Don’t touch! You might fall in!” Cooper pulled back, laughing in delight.

The Underworld was beautiful. Clear blue skies, the air clean and fresh. They were riding in a pontoon boat over a clear blue lake, and there were ducks chattering in the water near them. In the distance, she could see the shore. People waited, laughing and talking, standing near a freshly painted dock and a cozy-looking cottage.

She quickly pulled back her hand out of his mist, her shoulder blade hitting the side of the gondola. Then, she was back.

“Holy Hermes…” she muttered, blinking to stay focused. She was thrown off from not being able to grab his arm, but then she felt stupid. Of course she wouldn't be able to touch him. He was dead. Then she'd seen his vision... what in Zeus' name was that all about?

“Some mortals just can't handle seeing the world as it actually is,” Charon whispered to her and chills shot up her spine at the sound of his voice right near her ear. “For poor folks like this one… ones who’ve barely lived, they don’t deserve to be scarred like that. Not that it matters, anyway. He doesn’t need a judge to tell him where he’s going to end up.”

The gondola finally knocked against the shore, and Charon pointed to something in the distance. There, she got her first glance at the real entrance to the Underworld. Lines upon lines of spirits, separated into two lines to pass through what looked almost like airport security.

One line was moving so quickly, Luz could barely keep up. It was like there was no security at all for this line besides the metal detectors. It was marked as the “EZ” line. But the other was in a totally dead stop, marked as a line towards the Judgement Pavillion. Luz shivered when she heard barking, and saw a massive, three-headed Rottweiler eyeing each of the spirits walking through the metal detectors like he was just waiting to swallow one of them up.

Beyond that, Luz saw the Fields of Asphodel. It went on for what seemed like miles, and in the distance, she spotted a giant obsidian castle. The palace of Hades. To the left of the Fields, Luz flinched and looked away. It was the Fields of Punishment. She was fairly far away, but she could still hear the shouts of agony in the distance. Maybe it was best she didn’t dwell on it.

But just to the right of the Fields of Asphodel, Luz’s eyes widened. It was an actual gated community in the Underworld, with beautiful, thick, trees, and the sounds of people laughing and enjoying a barbeque. It was such a shock from what was on the other side of the pathway, that Luz almost didn’t want to tear her gaze away.

Elysium. Cooper would be in good hands.

Luz, however, would have to take the more daunting trek. First, she had to find Amity. And in a realm with billions of souls, she had no idea how she was going to do that.

Thanking Charon with a low whisper, Luz climbed out of the boat as it docked. She had no time to waste. Amity hadn’t been down here much longer than Luz had, and if she didn’t want to completely lose her trail, she needed to find her and quick.

As she waded through spirits, she was desperately looking anywhere for a splash of mint hair. She checked the entire EZ line, careful not to get too close to Cerberus before she finally accepted that Amity wasn’t anywhere in the wafts of moving souls. Then, it hit her.

Of course Amity wasn’t there.

She had always been an overachiever and prided herself on being the best of the best. It was stupid of Luz to ever think she’d willingly take the boring Fields of Asphodel for eternity when there was another option.

So, she started checking the line to the Judgement Pavilion. As she walked through, she heard some disgruntled murmurs from the souls and was quick to hold up her hands.

“I’m not cutting! I’m just looking for someone.”

That seemed to be pretty unusual because souls didn’t bother her much after that.

Luz was thanking every god she could think of that the souls in this section looked much more lively than the ones she’d seen in line for the Fields of Asphodel. These souls remembered who they were, and we're proud to get in line and be judged. She hoped that when she found Amity, she would be feeling the same way.

Gods, if only she could find Amity. She checked every soul, walking up and down the line for what felt like hours.

Then, she saw her. Her back was to Luz, a few souls ahead of her, and she looked exactly as she did right before she fell down the mountain. Her mint green hair was tied up in its usual style, her clothes were ragged and battle-worn, and her arms were crossed impatiently as she waited. Despite the familiarity, she, like the other souls Luz had seen, were coated in a thin mist and had that same off look about them, but it was still so obviously Amity and Luz’s heart just about shot out of her chest.

“Amity! Amity!!!"

She sprinted as fast as she could, and Amity turned her head, her eyes widening at the sound of her voice.

“Luz?”

Luz slammed into her, fully planning to wrap her arms around her, but instead only managed to lose her footing, and fall right through Amity. There was no vision this time as she slammed into the coarse sand of the Underworld, groaning. Right, Amity was dead. She wouldn't be able to touch her.

As she crawled to her feet, she felt disappointment wash through her. It wasn't fair. All she wanted to do was hug Amity. She was standing stiff behind Luz like she couldn't believe her eyes.

"Luz, is that really you?"

The disappointment faded to something else entirely when she heard her voice. It was just as it had been before she'd come to the Underworld. Her knee was stinging, and there was probably another hole in her leggings, but she couldn’t recall another time she’d been so relieved in her life. She stepped towards her, reaching out only to slowly remove her hand before it touched her face. It wouldn't work anyway.

“It's me. It's really me." She said, though she could barely believe her own eyes. "I... I thought I’d never see you again," she whispered, her heart hammering tightly in her chest.

“Luz, what are you doing here?” Amity breathed out, clearly just as shocked.

“Oh you know, just some of the usual quest stuff,” Luz said with a chuckle, and Amity recoiled in surprise. She eyes Luz up and down like she was looking for any signs Luz had changed.

“Another quest? I… I didn’t think I’d been down here that long…”

“What?” Luz asked, blinking. “No! It's the same quest I’ve been on this whole time. Amity, I’m here to take you back.”

Amity’s mouth dropped open, before closing and reopening multiple times. “Luz… I… I’m dead. I can’t just… I can’t just go.”

“But you can!” Luz insisted, reaching forward to take her hand. Her fingers passed right through, and she looked down, frustrated. Amity flinched, pulling her hand to her chest. “You’re not at the judging pavilion yet. You haven’t been entered into the Underworld officially. Amity, I’m here to fix this.”

“You can’t fix a prophecy, Luz,” Amity said with a stern shake of her head, even though her eyes were dark with sadness. “Look, all this is over. I… I died, yeah, but that’s how it was meant to be. I knew that, and I know you do too.”

“We were wrong. Amity, we’ve been wrong this whole time! Look, I met my Dad just after you…” Luz swallowed hard, and Amity looked away, biting her lip. Luz took a quick breath and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He told me that this wasn’t over. What closes on one side has to close on the other too. I’m here to make sure the portal stays closed for good, and I need you to help me. Please, Amity. Just trust me.”

Amity looked back at Luz, and something in her face shifted. She sighed, giving Luz a tiny smile.

“I can’t even die in peace, can I? Are you always going to be like this?”

Luz's heartbeat once in her chest, hard.

“Am I always going to be like what? Charming and intriguing?” Luz asked with a grin.

“No," Amity scoffed with a shake of her head. "I meant annoying and persistent.”

“Well, that depends. Are you going to step out of this line?”

Amity paused for another moment, looking down towards the judging pavilion with a thoughtful look on her face. After another moment, she stepped forward, gesturing for the soul behind her to move up.

“Alright, you've convinced me. I'm in. What’s the plan?”

#the owl house #lumity #luz x amity #Percy Jackson AU #shelby speaks

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nevernotwriting · 4 years

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You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 3: Night at the Museum

Read me on AO3!

Previous chapter

You and Mark spent the rest of the day planning your heist. You combed over every inch of the blueprints you created, right from the air vent entrance on the roof to the sewers underneath. Jasmine even took the liberty of fetching takeout for you just before she left, though you weren’t sure you’d be able to stomach it.

Before you knew it, it was 8:45PM; time to go. You and Mark agreed to make your own ways there and meet up inside the museum, leaving you to your own devices to get into the building. This panicked you at first, but Mark squeezed your hand reassuringly before departing.

You made it to the museum just after 9PM, hoping you didn’t look too suspicious riding the metro dressed in all black with a satchel full of clanging heist equipment. Not the most stylish way of arriving, you thought, but it was better than a security camera catching your car’s license plate.

You crouched outside the museum in the bushes, gently pushing aside the leaves and peeking forward. Right on schedule, a guard walked past the entrance, idly whistling a tune to himself as he went. With eyes trained on him like a hawk, you waited until he was out of sight before taking a confident leap out of the bushes and running towards the building with light footsteps.

You looked up, readying your grappling gun you’d already taken out of your bag. The vent was on the roof, many, many feet directly above you.

Your stomach lurched. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you launched the hook. Before you could even talk yourself out of it, you were shooting through the air, stone and metal whizzing past your eyes as the breeze picked up and chilled your bones.

You made it onto the roof with a slight stumble, but you were unscathed. Your heart was hammering and your legs felt like jelly, but Jasmine was right; you’d never felt more alive. Maybe this was going to be fun.

Sure enough, the vent you needed was right in front of you. You took the cover off and crawled in, pausing for a moment to remember which way you needed to go.

Forward. Just straight forward. That’s right.

You shimmied onward, trying to stay quiet as you passed a few grates. At the end, you found the grate you needed. You pried it open, landing on your feet when you exited.

Not bad for a rookie, you thought to yourself.

You scoped out your surroundings. You were right where you were supposed to be, so you took a second to catch your breath. The only thing missing now was Mark, but he’d be here any minute now.

A distant Tarzan wail caught your attention. You turned to your left, only just managing to shield your eyes as Mark leapt through the roof and sent shards of glass flying everywhere. He stumbled the landing but barely flinched. You didn’t even have time to freak out about the noise he made before he launched into a speech.

“All right, you know the plan, right? Pfft, what am I saying, you practically wrote it!” He grinned at you. Your ears still twitched, listening for guards running to investigate the broken roof, but so far, nothing and no one had stirred. Either Mark was extremely lucky, or overconfident in his entrance.

The two of you ran things over one more time before he got ready to leap off once more, casting you an uncharacteristically dark look.

“Now, stick to the plan, and you’ll be just fine. But if you deviate from it for even a single moment, I won’t come back for you. Okay? Good luck!”

He shot you a devilish wink just before he grappled away, letting you know he was just messing with you. You appreciated the humour on your first heist, and you felt your nerves dissipate as you moved to the next phase of the plan. You could tell Mark was showing off for you at times, performing unnecessary cartwheels and somersaults to evade the guards. He grinned at you from behind his cover as you threw a baseball to distract a guard, and pointed friendly finger guns as he swung away yet again to get the key needed for the vault.

It took all your strength not to squeal in delight as you fed the guard dog the gigantic steak you’d packed in your bag. You snuck the keys from her jacket as she closed her mouth round the meat, a trail of drool following her as she happily walked away.

Okay, there was no denying it; this was a lot of fun. Sure, it was a little nerve-wracking at times, but nothing had gone wrong so far. Mark was keeping an eye out for you, just as he promised.

The heist seemed disappointingly short by the time you and Mark finally reached the artefact, but neither of you could contain the excitement on your faces as Mark shoved the box into his bag. Glory would soon be yours. You imagined Mark picking you up and swinging you round in a tight hug after you got back to HQ, high on adrenaline and filled with shared excitement for your first successful heist. Maybe he’d sweep you off your feet right then and there, take you out for dinner early to celebrate, and end the evening with a magical-

Unfortunately, your imaginary bubble was soon popped. It couldn’t all be sunshine and rainbows. The room turned red with flashing lights, alarms blaring in your ears. A look of panic streaked across Mark’s face for a split second, making your stomach tie in knots again, but it was quickly replaced by a look of deviousness. He pulled out an antique gun and… a bomb? From his bag. He gestured to the manhole to his right, then to the door you had crept in through.

“Sewer would probably work, all quiet-like, but, y’know,” he wiggled the gun and the bomb in his hands, “I like a little action.”

You couldn’t resist the look on his face, and any rational thoughts were drowned out by the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“Let’s give ‘em hell.”

Mark let out a deep laugh from the depths of his throat. “I was hoping you’d say that. Fire in the hole!”

Before you had time to react, he launched the bomb towards the door, clouding your vision with bright flames followed by white smoke. Your ears were ringing from the noise and you nearly lost your balance, but Mark grabbed your hand and led the two of you through the plumes, both of your footsteps losing all traces of stealth as you ran together through the gunpowder exhibit. The guards soon caught up with you, sending a wave of bullets your way. The two of you dodged around wildly, picking up your pace as the exit came into view. You kept running, not looking back until the museum was out of sight. Mark held your hand until the very last second, letting go when the two of you made it onto a wide, grassy field with two convenient escape options; a helicopter, and a car.

You panted and whooped in delight. Going out guns blazing definitely hadn’t been a wise decision, but it would sure make for a good story back at HQ. Who else could say they escaped a room full of explosives on their first heist, all while being shot at?

Mark gave you the honour of choosing your escape route. Your mind was still a little scrambled from all the action, so you merely nodded towards the helicopter.

Mark sprinted towards it, eagerly motioning for you to follow as sirens sounded in the distance. However, as you came down from your adrenaline high, your lower side filled with a hot, searing pain.

Something was very wrong.

You stopped in your tracks, breath halting with dread. You looked down, unzipping your jacket. Your hand immediately dampened as you lifted your shirt, your eyes landing upon something you’d hoped wouldn’t be there.

Maybe you weren’t so lucky dodging those bullets after all. On your side was a small, round wound. Hot blood oozed out of it, sticking to your side and trailing down to your belt.

“Mark…” your mouth was dry as you croaked his name.

Mark whipped round to face you. All the previous excitement drained from his face as he took in your injury, eyes filling with horror.

“I think we might have another problem on our hands,” you quipped. You managed a weak smile before your vision blurred and your legs gave out. You hit the ground with a thud.

Mark dashed over to you, cradling your face in his hands. Your focus came and went in waves that matched the thuds emanating from your side, where your hand was still stuck in a desperate attempt to stem the bleeding. Mark’s eyes filled with tears as he tried to keep you awake.

“Oh, shit, no! Zero, come on, you gotta get up! We-we’ll get you back to HQ and get you patched up! You’ll be fine! Zero, please…”

His desperate plea was drowned out by the blaring of police sirens. The last thing you saw was Mark kneeling beside you, raising both hands above his head as the night sky filled with blue and red flashes.

Next chapter

#a heist with markiplier #ahwm #heist mark #heist mark x reader #heist! mark x reader #yancy x reader #ahwm yancy x reader #ahwm yancy #my writing #nevernotwriting

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter thirteen: a special skeleton

“i stand right next to a mountain, and i chop it down with the side of my hand!" -"voodoo child", jimi hendrix

Sam pressed the button on the other side of the tape recorder. She had filled the cassette full, and even though she hadn't really known all of the songs during the Cherry Suicides' set list, she knew that it would serve as a good example to send in to Aurora and eventually the label. The roar of the audience in front of her served as her work soundtrack, as she took the cassette out of its space and stuck it inside of the casing.

She held onto the casing as if it was about to get away from her, and she ducked back into the backstage area right as the four of them scurried back to their dressing room for the night. She hung there for a moment to make sure she had put her pen away in her purse and Zelda breezed past her with those big taped boots still on her feet.

“Good show tonight!” she exclaimed, even though the subdued applause behind them told a different story.

“I know, right?” Sam said with her arms out before either side of her. “You guys were so tight and so on top of it all!” They did a high five as Morgan and Minerva skipped past them.

“Look at them!” Zelda pointed after them. “Look at 'em skipping! I've never seen them skip!”

Sam clapped her hands and then she held up the cassette. “Where's Aurora, I gotta hand this to her—”

“I think she's down the hall here—” Zelda nodded up the corridor towards Anthrax's dressing room. “I saw her up there when I came back here.”

“Alright, I'll be right back.”

Sam bowed up the corridor towards that dressing room; she adjusted the strap on her purse with her free hand all the while. The door hung wide open and she heard Aurora's gentle laughter from the inside there. She leaned in to find her before Frank and Dan, both of whom were still cooling off after their set earlier that evening. Frank nodded in Sam's direction, and Aurora turned around for a look at her and her face lit up.

Sam showed her the cassette tape.

“You got it!” she exclaimed.

“Hit play the very second they took to the stage and filled the whole thing up,” Sam replied and she stepped inside there. “There were a handful of songs I wasn't familiar with so you'll have to help me out with the track names on the listing part.” She handed Aurora the tape and she looked over the white label on the inside there.

“That's okay! I'll listen through it and write them down for Jon and hopefully—just hopefully—we'll see the Cherry Suicides on record store shelves at some point.”

Sam turned her attention to Frank and Dan with their backs to the wall behind them, and Aurora followed suit.

“Man, they went kinda long tonight, didn't they?” Frank remarked.

“Long and kind of thrashy, too,” Dan added. “Think Chuck's boots might be doing something to Zelda a bit. Chuck's boots with Greg's duct tape.”

“Yeah, they did have more of an edge tonight, didn't they?” Aurora grinned at them.

“It's all the hanging out with all the metal boys they've been doing lately,” Sam pointed out. “Happens in art all the time.”

“Did either of you two girls see where Joey ran off to?” Dan asked them, and they both shook their heads; Sam had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and she hoped that Joey would keep his other promise and abstain from the booze. Dan hopped off of the shelf and he strode past them to the doorway; Sam then returned to Aurora and bowed her head a bit.

“By the way, I've been meaning to ask you this,” she started in a low voice, “do you and Emile have any other plans besides moving in together?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I dunno. But do you care to share, though? We are best friends after all.”

Aurora squinted her eyes at her.

“We're not having kids,” she scoffed with a shake of her head. “No way I'm putting him through that, either. After the difficulty my parents had raising me with the North Korean threat looming over their heads most of their adult lives? No way.”

“You've got too much of a work ethic, anyway,” Sam pointed out. “There's no way a kid can interrupt you at this point in your life.”

“Right?” Aurora chuckled at that.

“You girls talkin' 'bout me?” Frank cracked.

“Not everything be about you, Frankie,” Sam retorted, and Aurora laughed at that. The rumble of a bass pounded through the wooden floor behind them; the pop of a snare drum followed.

“Sounds like Testament is about to take center stage next,” Aurora declared. There was that swirling riff once again, the one that Sam and Joey had heard in the venue before.

“Yeah, that's definitely them,” Sam remarked. “I'm part of their fan club after all. Let's go see them.”

“I have to listen to this, though,” Aurora halted her.

“Oh, yeah, that's right—”

Sam returned to the corridor, where Zelda had changed out of her top and into nothing more than that spattered sports bra. She flashed her an excited grin.

“The other boys are about to get on it next,” she said to Sam.

“It's a cherry sandwich!” she joked, and that brought a big bold laugh out of Zelda. Indeed, the kick drums started up in a steady metronome of a rhythm and the people out in the audience began clapping in sync with it. The two of them gathered by the edge of the curtain, from the same spot which Sam and Chuck had watched Anthrax earlier that evening.

Louie to their right, as he took his seat behind his kit: he flashed the two of them a pretty little wave and Sam returned the favor to him. Greg slung his bass over his shoulder, and Alex and Eric entered in from the other side of the stage. Chuck rounded out the quintet with his own handheld microphone.

“I see the dudes from Death Angel,” Zelda pointed out. Sam looked out to the sea of heads out in the audience.

“Where?”

“Right in front of us. I recognize Osegueda right there—you see him? Mr. Dread locks?”

Sam lowered her gaze to the man with the full head of fledgling dread locks right near the edge of the stage.

“Oh, yeah!”

“How ya doin', Boston!” Chuck declared into his microphone. “We are Testament—straight out of the Bay Area, California. Big ol' thank you to the Cherry Suicides—we love those girls, man. We've got some big shoes to fill after their set. This song is called 'Burnt Offerings'!”

“Oh, this song rules!” Zelda shouted, and Louie glanced over his shoulder with his tongue out at her. He hammered away at his drums, and Sam thought about what he had said to her the night before. He pounded away so hard at them that his kick drums made the floor shake and the snare sounded like a gunshot. Chuck leaned to the side a bit and let his hair fly about like a bullwhip. Greg did the same as his bass thundered forth, strong and powerful. Eric built an entire wall of sound with his guitar. But something was missing.

Chuck's voice seared through the room, with that big razor sharp snarl to it. Sam peered past Louie's drum kit and the back of Greg's head and she spotted Alex over his pedal board. She couldn't see what he was doing.

Several guys near the front of the stage stared on at Alex as he prepared for his solo. One frowned at him as he stepped forward. He strummed high up on the neck and set his foot on the pedal. Hardly any sound came out of his amp.

Sam's heart skipped a few beats at the lack of sound. He took a step closer to it, and feedback bled out from it rather than melodic notes.

“What's going on with Alex?” Zelda wondered aloud.

“I don't know,” Sam confessed. There was another noise out there.

“Are they booing him!” Zelda demanded.

It was a soft hum over the thunder of Greg's bass and Eric's rhythm, but Sam knew it from the second she heard it.

“They are!” she declared with her mouth agape. “They're booing him!”

They glanced at one another, stunned.

“I don't think we ever got booed,” Zelda confessed. “Always yelled at or told to get off the stage you stupid whores, but never booed.”

Alex stooped down to adjust a dial but it was useless. He kept on with the wall of feedback. He held still with his fingers on the fret board: Sam couldn't see him but he appeared to be making use of it. A long loud whine and a blare that sounded as though it came through a tube, and yet even with that, he managed to change the notes. A slow, painful drone.

“What's he doing?” she asked Zelda, who shook her head.

“He's doing a Hendrix!” Louie shouted over his shoulder, and his voice drowned out against the feedback.

“Huh?” Zelda leaned in closer to him.

“He's doing a Jimi Hendrix!” he repeated, that time with his eyes closed. Zelda returned to Sam.

“He's doing what Jimi Hendrix did! Using the feedback for a solo!”

But the tone sounded as though his guitar was dying in utter agony: the way in which he plucked and moved his hand about the guitar neck was something to counter it. An ugly noise and yet he made it oddly beautiful in a way. Sam thought back to that day in the hole in the wall, when he talked about watching Miles Davis on TV one time.

He was improvising.

And yet no one in the crowd seemed to like it. Alex finally shook his head and turned away to let Chuck sing some more. He had his back to the audience so Sam could see the look of frustration on his round face. It kept on going for the rest of Testament's set, such that he shook his head when he left the stage, and he seemed more withdrawn than usual afterwards.

All five of them were silent as the audience out on the floor; Sam and Zelda caught up with the five of them.

“What happened?” Sam asked them, concerned.

“Swings and roundabouts, I guess,” Chuck said with a shrug of his shoulders, and yet Sam could see the look of disappointment on his face. “Sometimes you have a bad night. We've been doing good lately, so that was—that was something.”

“Let's get back to the room, though,” Eric insisted as he picked up his guitar case; Alex stayed knelt down on the floor next to him. Sam then turned to Zelda.

“See you tomorrow?” she asked her.

“See you tomorrow,” Zelda replied with a twinkle in her eye and they threw their arms around each other. If nothing else, at least the Cherry Suicides were on their way into a new chapter of their career. But at the same time, Sam couldn't help but think about how the crowd sounded when she recorded them. Their reaction to the four girls on the stage was lukewarm at best: it just took a malfunction and a misfire for them to give Alex an unwonted bad reaction. As she walked with the five of them back to their little room, she thought back to Anthrax's set. That had a very minimal reaction as well.

Not just a bad night for the other quintet, but for the crowd as well.

They filed into the cool, welcoming room once again, and Sam returned to her spot on the bed in the far corner of the room. Alex had lingered behind them all the way back; when he came in last, he shut the door behind him and ran his fingers through that jet black hair. He was silent as he made his way over to the spot on the floor before the bathroom door.

“Jesus, that crowd fucking sucked,” Greg lamented.

“Yeah, they sure did,” Chuck agreed.

“I mean, they booed our lead guitarist!” Louie exclaimed as he plopped down on the edge of the bed. Meanwhile, Alex just sat there on the blow up mattress with his back to the wall and with an empty look on his face. He didn't look stern, but rather as if his mind was elsewhere. “And he did what he could, too. And they still got all up in arms about it.”

“Need anything, Alex?” Chuck offered him, and he shook his head.

“They couldn't be bothered by the girls, either,” Sam added. “And they were on fire tonight!”

“Oh, yeah, they were crazy tonight!” Eric exclaimed, but he kept his eye on Alex, who looked as though he had mentally checked out from everything. If only she could tell him that it wasn't his fault, she would. But he seemed uninterested in everything else that night that he lay down on the mattress and rolled over onto his side. He fell asleep within a matter of seconds, and then Greg lay in the opposite direction next to him.

Louie took the spot next to Sam and that time around, he lay flat on his back. Eric turned out the light and the darkness swept over the six of them. Even in the dim light, Sam made out the sight of Louie's eyes still wide open despite it being late at night.

“Are you feeling okay?” she whispered to him.

Louie sighed through his nose and then he rolled his head over the pillow for a better look at her. He gazed on at her through the darkness. Even shrouded in shadow, she could make out the anxious look on his face. Alex was long gone at that point, and Chuck and Eric had fallen asleep next to them; but he still looked nervous to her. He sighed through his nose again.

“Can you keep a secret?” he whispered back to her, and she swallowed.

“Yes,” she replied. “Especially if it's that dire.”

“It is.”

“Okay. Go ahead.”

He sighed through his nose a third time.

“I had an affair,” he whispered, and Sam raised her eyebrows at him.

“What,” she sputtered, “do you mean, you had an affair? With Zelda?”

“No. I mean—Zelda was the affair.”

She gaped at him.

“Louie,” she breathed. He rolled his head back on top of the pillow so he gazed up at the ceiling overhead.

“I had a girlfriend before I met Zelda,” he explained, “—I even had a baby with her. But I never told Zelda about it when we were together. That's why I took a year off from Legacy, besides—living with Zelda. I had a baby—”

“But your heart was elsewhere,” she whispered back to him.

Louie pursed his lips and then he shook his head again: Sam could see he was disappointed in himself.

“Zelda was my release,” he continued. “I wasn't happy at home, and I told Eric and Zetro that I needed some time off to be with my daughter. But I wasn't happy. I met Zelda and all of a sudden, all bets were off.”

“Back up, you told Eric and Zetro that you were having a baby and they knew about Zelda, too?”

“They thought Zelda was the mother,” he clarified. “That's why they love her so much. They think she's that tough because she pushed a watermelon through a straw. No, she's just tough because she's a tough punk chick from Rhode Island. I've been living a lie this whole time.” He then returned to her. “But now I have someone to tell it to.”

Sam swallowed and she shifted her weight in her spot there next to him.

“Promise you won't tell anyone,” he whispered, and she nodded her head.

“I just have one question,” she started.

“What's that?”

“Does Zelda know?”

And he shook his head.

“Nope. Never told her about my baby or my baby mama, and I don't think it even crossed her mind for a second. At least, that's my assumption.”

He closed his eyes and brought his gaze back to the ceiling overhead. Sam fetched up a sigh and she lay there in silence for a second, unsure of what to believe. On one hand, it all made sense as to why Louie always seemed so distant to her. Add to this, he dropped this on her as if it was nothing. But then again, it raised more questions for her, in particular why didn't anyone ask Zelda about a kid one time before, or why no one questioned her behavior before. There were too many holes and too many layers to unravel, and Sam herself was too tired to even so much as consider any of it for herself.

She fell asleep right next to him once more.

The mysterious man in her dreams appeared above her that time, and that time, he drifted in closer to her body. He lay on top of her, and he ran his fingers down her chest. The streak in his hair was high and bright despite the darkness that surrounded them: his eyes seared right into her soul as he felt her up and all over her body. Her nipples tightened and her stomach sank inward. His tongue slithered out from his mouth, right onto her lips.

“You know you—” he whispered to her. “You know—”

“I don't,” she confessed back.

“Let's—” he insisted, and he held onto her hands and led the way. He slithered and writhed all about her body like that of a snake. He was cold and dark, like a thick jet black curl on the crown of a head. He was between her legs. His movement caused her chest to seize and her breathing to quicken. Right there. Right next to Louie and with the whole world watching.

And yet she felt nothing from him. Absolutely nothing.

Sam jarred herself awake. She still lay there next to Louie, who had rolled over onto his side, away from her. The man was gone: in fact, he never even touched her.

She let out a sigh of relief and she decided it would be best to find herself a cup of coffee and some breakfast, and then bring it back for the five of them.

Careful not to wake Louie or Greg, she climbed out of bed and slipped her shoes back onto her feet: her travel bag was still in the back of Dan's car. She ducked out of that cool hotel room and softly closed the door behind her. The marine layer hadn't come in overnight and thus she stood in a column of bright, slightly warm golden sunlight courtesy of the low apartment buildings across the street from there.

She adjusted the strap on her purse and began up towards the street corner, alone. She stood there for a second when she swore she heard someone call her name. She peered about the street for any signs of life, but then she glanced down the block and there was Anthrax and their little dumpy white van. She recognized Scott and Frank from all the way up the street; she held onto her purse and hurried down the sidewalk towards them with the morning sun at her back. With a quick glance about the place, she hurried towards them there at the curb; Frank held two cups of coffee in hand and he had a twinkle in his eye as if someone had just told him a dirty joke.

“Hey, there's our girl,” he proclaimed once she came within earshot.

Dan poked his head out from the back doors of the van right then.

“Hey, it's li'l Sam!” He then pointed up the street. “My car is parked right up the block here so if you want to get your things, you can just run up there and swipe them.”

“I'll probably be hitching a ride with you anyways,” she confessed. “I just got to hanging out with Testament because they needed to be hung out with.”

“Right?” Scott chuckled at that; he took a sip of his coffee and then nodded with his tongue out from his mouth like that of a dog. “Spectacular.”

“What, you got coffee and didn't get any for me?” Sam joked with him, complete with a false hurt look on her face.

“I'd give it to ya any time of the week, sweet heart,” he retorted to her, and Frank whistled at that.

“Damn!” Joey poked his head out from the back of the van alongside Dan.

“Hey, you!” Sam exclaimed.

“Hey, you!” he echoed her with a raise of his eyebrows. She made her way over to him, and Dan sank back behind him to give them a bit of privacy. Joey had a little twinkle in his eye, and the wet curls on his forehead only accentuated it.

“You were amazing last night!” she declared, and he flashed her that lopsided grin once again.

“You thought I did good last night?” He nodded at her. “With the feather headdress all about my head?” He gestured about the crown of his head.

“The feathers sealed the deal! And—” She leaned in closer to him. “—thank you for keeping your promise, too.” To which he shrugged.

“Just doin' what I do best,” he assured her. His brown eyes seemed a lot more clear than normal, which meant he had stayed away from the alcohol overnight.

“Speaking of Testament, what was going on with them last night?” Frank joined in out of the blue.

“Like what was going on with Alex's guitar?” Sam knew that the very mention of Alex would undo everything Joey had done for himself at that point, but she had to fill in for those five guys.

“Yeah.”

“I dunno. He seemed to be having some kind of technical trouble.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Joey bowing his head a bit, away from the conversation.

“But then he did that feedback thing and made good use of it,” Scott recalled. “That was genius, if you ask me. I wouldn't know what to do if it were me.”

“Me, neither.” Sam shook her head, and she adjusted the strap on her purse once more. “You guys know where I can get coffee and breakfast from around here?”

“We got our coffee from across the street,” Frank pointed to the cafe across the way. “But I haven't seen a donut shop for blocks, though. Maybe when we get going we'll find something.”

“'Cause I was thinking of getting coffee and breakfast for those guys when I got up earlier,” she confessed.

“Aw, that's sweet of you!”

“They had a rough night last night—I wanna do something nice for them.”

“Could at least get coffee,” Scott advised her. “'Cause we plan on leaving in about forty minutes so—better hustle.”

“Okay.” She then returned to Joey, who pursed his lips at the mere mention of them. He held the coffee cup close to his lips, but he never took a sip. She had to keep up the streak. The streak.

“Can I ask you something?” she began in a low voice to him, and he lifted his gaze to her without a turn of his head.

“Yeah.”

“I really liked those feathers,” she said.

“I do, too,” he replied, and that smirk returned much to her relief. “And to be honest, I think that's gonna be a regular thing—I really like singing that song, too.”

“Well, and they were kinda... hot, too,” she continued, to which Joey showed her a smirk. She thought about that dream she had had, and how she felt nothing as the mysterious man was on top of her and feeling up her entire body. But she was sincere when she said that, and she knew that there had to be something more between her and Joey from that point on.

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

I don’t care

summarry: a reddie x daughter where the losers are over and the daughter comes home from school with a minor injury and they later found out she was bullied. so they give her tips and maybe even fighting lessons lol

A/N: this was requested by anon I hope you enjoy!

warnings: homophobia as reason for the bullying

Water sloshes over the sides as Richie dives headfirst into the pool. It drenches Stan’s trousers, who shoots a murderous look towards Richie resurfacing with a deep breath.

‘Refreshing’, he comments, shaking a full body shiver at the change of temperature. Chloe watches from afar, disposing her bookbag on the grass with a loud clutter. Weekend arrives and she’s eager to start the plans scheduled. On Friday a pool party, on Saturday a trip on uncle Ben’s boat, and for the last day they’re going to see Richie perform live on stage.

All the losers promised they’d make it, and they did, it’s been a while since the group has reunited, work and personal issue getting in the way, but none of that matters. Sometimes Chloe thinks there’s no way they won’t get mad at one another when someone cancels yet again, but then the rejoins puts her at ease. They care for each other more than enough to stop a small, unimportant thing from ruining it. Most scattered around the pool, like uncle Stan and Chloe’s pops in the water, but her dad and uncle Bill stood a far end away from water range, a smart decision Stan begrudgingly had to admit.

'The prodicale child has returned, Richie enthusiastically announced, waving his arms back and forth. ‘Mini me is back.’

The losers greet her, warm smiles and gentle hands pulling her in a hug. Bill’s positively buzzed, the butt of many jokes at his expense of how much of a lightweight the man really is. The first try to capture Chloe in an embrace goes haywire, and if it wasn’t for Mike supporting his weight, he would have fallen face first.

It sends the rest of the groups in hysterics, not including Bill, blushing red tainted cheeks. ‘Already uncle Bill?’ Chloe goads, covering the underside of the drink in his hand in case he loosens his grip.

Waving of the concerns, Bill wobbles, aided by Mike, back to the sun chair to rest. Eddie motions a soda her way, wordlessly asking if she wants one.

‘Yeah, but I’m going to go change first.’

Her shirt is too tight for the humidity hanging in the air, and she longs for a swim, so she needs swimming attire in order to do that anyway.

----

‘Oh absolutely not’, Bev declares stiffly, her mouth set in a straight line and hands on her hips. ‘There’s no way any niece of mine is wearing that.’

Richie cackles, his head thrown back in amusement over Beverly’s reaction, following her gaze to his daughter, wearing a Hawaiian long-sleeved shirt over her bathing suit.

Chloe follows his laughter, doing a pirouette to show off her t-shirt. ‘I think it’s cool.’

‘You’re only saying that because Richie brainwashed you.’

‘I agree with Bev, one Richie fashion disaster is more than I can adequately handle,’ Stan concurred, heaving a sigh at Richie’s childish reaction of sticking out his tongue.

‘It’s not like she’s wearing it to school Beverly, and if my daughter sees me as a fashion icon, than I think we should respect that. Fuck knows she’s the smartest among us.’

A little cough draws his attention, and Stan does nothing to hide his intend.

‘Okay well Stan is up there.’

‘Please kid, I’m begging, don’t become a second Richie. Fight those parts of you that stem from him.’

‘Hey fucking excuse you, she’s my daughter too.’ Eddie heatedly adds, chopping his hand through the air to drive the point home.

‘who’s w-w-who’s d-d-daughter?’ A stutter the predominant tell that Bill is well on his way to being hammered.

‘Shut up Bill, you’re too drunk to participate in this conversation.’

Chloe giggles, knowing that the teasing remarks from her family are just that, teasing. She then finally steps closer towards the pool. The grass beneath her bare feet is strangely relaxing, the sensations of little pricks reminding her of summer days and ice creams.

‘Come her,’ aunt Bev beckons, her hand circling around the small indents of nails in Chloe’s underarm.

Without realization, she hisses in pain, retracting her hand and covering the sore spot with her remaining hand. The playful mood everyone participated in pops like a bubble.

Beverly blinks in shock, surprised by the reaction. The chatting in the pool ends abruptly, the remnants of an engaging conversation ebbing away.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, just peachy.’ A bird flies overhead, chirping away, an excellent escape out of the conversation Chloe refuses the hold in front of everyone.

‘Uncle Stan, what kind of bird is that?’

Stan eyes her suspiciously, not uttering a word to help her, and Chloe glowers at him. Thanks for nothing.

‘Let me see please’, Eddie asks his cheeks blown out, worry etched across his face. At this point, Chloe is trapped. She can’t deny something is wrong, and she can’t withhold her arm because that would make everyone even more suspicious.

‘Fine,’ she grumbles, bunching the fabric of the long sleeved shirt to reveal indents of fingernails buried in her skin, not sever enough to be of any concern, but bad enough that it is visible.

‘Chloe,’ Eddie perturbs, his fingers hovering above the wounds while he mulls over what to do in his head. ‘What happened?’

In one smooth motions, Richie lifts himself out of the water and strides resolutely their way, blind without his glasses on but still thoughtfully studying the body-langue of both Eddie and Chloe. He stoops down to inspect the wounds himself, than straightens up and tries his best to stare straight in his daughter eyes, missing by half a mile.

‘Someone did that to you?’ The intentions makes it sound like a question, but it’s a statement, and one that is impossible to refute. Nail marks aren’t accidental.

‘Did you get these cleaned?’ Eddie frets, his left hand coercing her to move to the kitchen, where they keep an emergency kid. Richie has had one to many mishaps in there.

It’s a sure sign that Eddie is freaking out and building up to an anxiety attack, worrying and fretting over someone to release part of the stress before it bubbles over.

‘Dad’, Chloe mumbles miserably, planting her feet in the ground to resist any prodding. ‘It’s not that bad.’

‘Who did this angle cake?’

‘Just someone from school alright. It’s not a big deal.’

‘Honey, It is. No one is allowed to hurt you in any way,’ Bev argues, her chin jutting out, only calmed by Ben’s presence.

‘Is there anything we can do? T-t-talk to whoever did this? A teacher? Say the word and we’re on it.’ Bill’s positively sobered up thanks to the severity of the topic of conversation, he fumbled over his words only once.

‘Beat him or her up? I’m not afraid if it’s a girl, I’ll hit anyone who tries to put their hands on my baby.’

‘Yes and don’t listen to uncle Ben, he might say something fucking stupid like we’ll talk to whoever did this calmly.’

‘Yes, cause that’s the best option Richie-‘

‘It has nothing to do with me okay? And I doubt she even planned on physically hurting me. I tried to remove myself from the situation, and instead of letting me walk away, she tried to keep me in place by grabbing me. Hence the superficially’, Chloe aimed the word at her dad, ‘scratches.’

‘It obviously has something to do with you. Why else go after you?’ Stan probes. The way he talks and demands thing without having to raise his voice is fascinating, like he can bend anyone to do what he pleases without breaking a sweat.

‘Because’, Chloe pinched the bridge of nose, contemplating her chances of resolving the situation without admitting what it was all about, but between her protective fathers and the solicitous of the losers, she estimated her shots slim to none.

‘Because she believes homosexuality is wrong and that dad and pops are wrong for loving each other.’

Richie grimaces bitterly, slumping his shoulders and sneering at the words sinking in. ‘Like Bowers all over again’, he spits furiously, bailing his hands into fist. Next to him, Eddie is pensively staring at the wounds on Chloe’s hand, shame speed racing through his body for him and Richie being the reason this happened to their daughter.

‘Chlo, I’m so so sorry.’

‘No. Don’t you dare apologies. It doesn’t matter. Not to me anyway. She’s a bitch, and she’s wrong for her opinion, but I can’t make her see your relationship the way I see this. I can’t force her to open her mind and broaden her horizons, then I’ll be equally as bad. I love you guys, and I don’t care you’re gay. If other people do that’s their problem and not mine. I hid the comments as I knew they would hurt you, but we know better than them. I’m going to continue living my life open and excepting of everyone and everything and she will walk around angry and upset at everything in the world she considers unnatural. There’s no outcome in which she wins, except if we let her words bother us.’

With a gentle pull, Chloe buries herself under her dads chin, tucked away in safety as her pops caresses her hair and presses a kiss there.

‘I’m so proud of you.’ Eddie confesses, barely understandable with his voice cracking through the lump in his throat. ‘Don’t ever forget how much we love you.’

‘We’ll have to discus some precautions. Like a buddy system or some shit. Or maybe Mike can teach you some strength exercises.’ Richie ponders, thinking ahead on how to avoid a situation ever again occurring. ‘But yeah, we really couldn’t have a better daughter.’

#reddie #reddie x daughter #My writing #richie as a parent #eddie as a parent #richie as a dad #eddie as a dad #it chapter two imagine #the loser club imagines #richie x eddie

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 4 years

Text

with you [chapter three]

Summary: Clementine pops the question, Louis has nightmares, Violet can’t let go of the past, Mitch doesn’t know how to handle gross feelings, Ruby’s a goddamn sweetheart, Willy doesn’t ever remember to knock, Aasim can’t dance, and James is here, too.

Nothing like a wedding to bring this family together.

Note: I didn't plan on working on [with you] right now, but when the inspiration hits, listen to it.

I lost my momentum/motivation for this story a while ago, but damn it, I said I’d finish it so I'm going to finish it. [with you] isn't done, folks. Thanks for reading and for the constant support. I truly hope you enjoy this chapter and stick around for the rest. ❤️

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3

Read on: AO3

---

Well, the ring isn’t bigger, but it is flatter.

Too flat to possibly fit on Louis’ finger.

Well, fuck.

The hammer hits the workbench with a deafening clatter that bounces throughout the basement, causing a startled Willy to drop the tattered, blue tarp in his hands.

Mitch lets out a deep groan, leaning back in his chair while tugging at his hair.

“How bad is it?” asks Willy.

The ring’s a piece of shit, Mitch decides. He tried reshaping it, stretching it to be just the tiniest bit bigger, but progress was halted due to the fact that he fucked up.

Maybe it would be easier if he had Louis’ measurement- which Clementine has neglected to obtain yet- but right now, it’s damn near impossible to get it back to its perfectly circular shape.

“Fucked,” Mitch grumbles. He can’t give it back to Clementine in this shape. She’ll be devastated.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to look like that,” Willy yawns from beside him, rubbing at his eyes.

Turning the ring- if you could even call it that anymore- around in his fingers, concern furrows the young boy’s brow as he chews on his bottom lip.

“What are we gonna do?”

That’s a great question, one that Mitch doesn’t have an answer to yet.

Really, it should’ve been simple.

He should’ve been able to stretch it out a bit then reshape it into a perfect circle, into a ring. Now it’s just a long, depressing, wobbly, scratched up loop .

All the mornings he woke up early this week to come down here and work on it… all for nothing!

Fuck.

Clementine’s gonna be pissed.

“No clue,” Mitch sighs, pressing forward against the desk to step down from his chair. “Don’t suppose you got any ideas?”

“Maybe we could melt it back?”

“With what? Fire?” Mitch sighs.“No fire we could make would be hot enough to melt this.”

“We could just get it hot enough to reshape it, at least?”

“Maybe,” Mitch says, unconvincingly. "Then again, it is pretty cheap, whatever it is."

Willy tries stretching the ring with his fingers to no avail, only succeeding his pinching his pointer finger.

The only reason it got into the shape it is now is because Mitch secured it in an old wrench, then used a pair of thick pliers to try and reshape it. No set of fingers are going to be enough to pry it apart.

“If we don’t fix this, Clem’s gonna be mad at us!” Willy exclaims, slamming the ring back down onto the workbench. “There’s gotta be something we can do! Maybe we could find her a new one? A bigger size? ”

Mitch perks a brow.

“You got a bunch of wedding rings lying around that I don’t know about?” he asks. “Seems like a weird thing to collect.”

Not that he’d be all that surprised, though it’d be rather convenient. Willy collects all kinds of strange shit- used stamps off of old envelopes, coins, fun-shaped erasers, probably other stuff. The kid’s like a bird collecting random shit for a nest.

“No,” Willy grins. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t find one. What about the headmaster’s office? Or the old teacher’s lounge? Maybe one of them took their ring off and forgot about it?”

Seems like a long shot.

Most of the teachers who worked here before all the bullshit happened were married. Hell, Mitch bets that’s one of the reasons they ditched. Had to get back to their husbands and wives and dogs and whatever. Or maybe that was just the excuse they used.

Even so, he doubts any of them took their rings off before abandoning the school. Even if one happened to leave a ring behind, the odds of it fitting Louis were still not in their favor, which would put them right back into this predicament.

“Doubt it.”

With the ring and pliers in his hands once more, Mitch bends the ring the best he can. It’s much easier fucking up than fixing it, he thinks bitterly, though that could be due to that fact this his patience and energy levels are at an all-time low. With every failed tug at the ring’s material, every wrong bend, the muscles in his neck tense.

Fuck the ring, fuck the ring, fuck these pliers, fuck this damn ring, fuck-

“Careful!” Willy gasps out just a bit too late.

The force causes the pliers to slip from his hand and become lost on the floor.

The ring-

No, not a ring anymore. Nope.

“Mitch! You just-”

Broke it.

He broke it.

Mitch stares down at the damn this in disbelief. How the fuck was that possible? What is this thing made out of? Were wedding rings always made to be this flimsy? The walker Clementine took this from must’ve been a cheap son of a bitch because there’s no way that’s a thing that should’ve happened!

It just… snapped! Broke apart!

“Oh shit,” Mitch hisses out, cradling the ring in his palm, poorly attempting to stick it back together. “Oh no.”

Superglue! He had to have superglue down here! There’s-

A high pitched squeak echoes through the basement, followed by a leak of the morning’s barely rising sunlight and the metal clang of the basement door.

“Mitch?”

Oh-

Oh fuck-

“You down here?”

Mitch’s wide eyes meet Willy’s panicked ones. In an instant, the two yank the torn tarp over the workbench, knocking the flashlight off the edge with a loud clang. The basement darkens.

“Shit!”

Footsteps. Heavy, slow footsteps.

“Mitch?” James’ voice echos, sending a jolt through Mitch’s stomach. He fumbles with the broken ring, only for it to drop and bounce on the concrete floor.

“Ruby said I’d find you down here.”

“Oh, for fucks sake-!” Mitch dives down onto his hands and knees beneath the workbench, grumbling a string of curses as he feels around for the damned ring all while an annoying ache throbs in his knees.

“Nope! Not down here!” Willy spits out, jerking the tarp down over Mitch’s back, effectively shielding him from any light left. “Nothing to see! Come back later!”

Fucking shit- ouch!

A jagged rock digs into the bone of his kneecap, causing him to jerk up and smack the top of his head against the underside of the workbench.

Ouch, ouch, ouch!

A chuckle from James breaks through the shooting pain and Mitch can’t tell which is more annoying.

“Mitch isn’t here?” James asked, the amusement clear in his tone as he approaches. “Strange, I thought I heard his voice.”

Bastard.

Of all the fucking people in this school, James would be the one to come snooping around down here. Shit, maybe Ruby complained to him about yesterday and now he’s here to investigate what they’re doing.

That’s not good. It’s already bad enough that he enlisted Willy’s help after promising that he’d keep the damn marriage proposal nonsense to himself, he doesn’t need to add James to the list. Clementine’s already going to be pissed enough as it is now that she doesn’t have an actual functioning ring! She might really stab him this time!

“Nope. You didn’t hear anything! Not here,” Willy tries. “Nothing suspicious here.”

“I see. So, those aren’t Mitch’s boots sticking out right there?”

“...Uh, no? Those are, uh, my boots!”

For once, Mitch wishes Willy were a more convincing liar- ah-ha!

Rubbing along the dirty ground, the ring finally brushes against his finger. With the damned thing secured in his fist, Mitch quickly scoots out. Fighting with the tarp in order to stand up, he damn near trips over his own chair, saving himself by grabbing a hold of Willy’s shoulder with his free hand.

A bright light nearly blinds him, one held by a grinning James.

“Gah! Watch where you point that thing!” Mitch exclaims, batting blindly in James’ direction. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, there you are. Uh, sorry,” James apologizes, lowering the light. “I hope your head is okay. Sounded like a nasty bump”

An irritating, sheepish warmth burns Mitch’s cheeks.

“Hurts like a bitch,” Mitch snaps. “Thanks. Now, what the hell are you doing here? It’s way too early for you to be poking around. And haven’t you ever heard of knocking? We’re in the middle of something and don’t need you waving our flashlight around like- like some sort of flashlight creep, weirdo, person!”

Mitch huffs, trying not to look out of breath after his tangent, but the charmed smile James wears makes him want to knock the flashlight out of his hand. Cocky bastard, catching him with his pants down-

Wait no, fuck, not-

James caught him fucking around with Clementine’s ring- which he doesn’t know anything about- and now he’s like a deer in the headlights- ha, there’s a better metaphor… y’know, because of the flashlight- and James is the hunter in the car waiting for an explanation.

Why the hunter would wait for such a thing instead of shooting the deer doesn’t make any sense but-

“Mitch?” Willy’s concerned voice breaks his train of thought. “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“You look-”

Before Willy can finish, James holds up his hands, quietly asking for silence. He cranks his neck to look behind him, back up at the closed doors of the second outdoor entrance.

The faint barks of Rosie ring outside.

Omar must be up, Mitch figures. Early bird starting breakfast, that’d explain Rosie’s excitement. He has to hush her by tossing her a piece of old jerky he found when messing around out here, that way no one was alarmed so early.

Shit, that means everyone else will be up soon, too.

After a moment, James turns back to them with a small, relieved smile.

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “I already know what’s going on. Clem told me you were working on the ring down here. You don’t have to hide or make up any excuses.”

Clem? Didn’t he say Ruby-

Wait-

“You know?” Willy asks. “About the ring?”

James nods down at the boy.

“I wanted to see how it’s coming along, and maybe help, if that’s okay,” James says, giving Mitch a sincere look. “She hasn’t gotten Louis’ measurements yet, has she?”

Mitch’s split on if he wants to throw the disfigured ring in his face or not.

“No,” Willy answers for him. “She hasn’t, and we screwed up!”

“Willy!” Mitch snaps.

“Big-time!”

James’ face falls.

“What happened?”

“I- Well, hold on!” Mitch stutters. “When did she tell you? I thought I was the only one who knew.”

James gives Willy a quick look, to which the young boy gives a guilty, toothy grin and a shrug.

“Okay, fine, fair enough,” Mitch sighs. “I needed his help and he swore he wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone . Right?”

Willy crosses an X over his chest, saying, “Scout’s honor.”

“I see,” James nods, watching as Mitch pulls back the tarp to reveal the workbench. “Well, so long as Louis doesn’t find out, I think you’ll be okay. And, uh, last week.”

James picks up the pliers from the floor. Mitch snatches it out of his hand before turning away, purposefully avoiding his heavy gaze.

He has the weirdest eyes, Mitch thinks. They’re so dark that you can’t tell where the pupil starts or ends and the way he stares is so-

Mitch scoffs, waving his hand as a silent, ‘Well? Go on.’

“When she came to get me, she asked if any of the walkers I keep in the barn happen to be wearing a ring,” James continues. “I searched and searched, but came up empty-handed. We ended up at the train station. She told me about her plans after she got the ring.”

Well, that makes sense, at least.

And here, Mitch thought he was the first and only person she told. Though he had to admit- not aloud, but to himself- that he’s a little glad that James knows. Maybe he has an idea of how to fix this mess.

Speaking of which-

Mitch, continuing to avoid James’ stare, uncurls his fist and sets the ring on the workbench.

James, finally sparing a glance away from Mitch’s irritated face, looks down at the remains of the ring.

A beat of silence passes as all three of them look at the damn thing.

God, they’re so fucked.

Finally, James hums.

“I don’t think that’s going to fit Louis.”

Mitch glares.

“Gee, ya think?”

“Told’ja we screwed up,” Willy mumbles. “But maybe we can just wrap it around his finger? Since, y’know, it can do that now.”

“Nope,” Mitch slams his hands on the workbench. “Nu-uh, now way, this ring is trash. Nothin’ we do is ever gonna fix it. Not gluing, not melting, not wrapping. We’re gonna have to start all over.”

“You have another ring?” asks James, leaning against the workbench with his arms folded across his chest.

Huh, he doesn’t have those nasty gloves on.

“Uh, no,” Mitch shakes his head. “We don’t.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“Nope.”

What a mess.

Clementine asks him to do one thing and he just had to go fuck it up. He should’ve waited until she had his measurements. Don’t know what difference that would’ve made, exactly, but perhaps it would’ve been a step in the right direction.

God, he can see it now. She’ll come down here with or without the measurements and he’ll have to tell her that he broke her ring and then she’ll be pissed and the next thing he knows, he’s lying on the ground in agony because she kicked him in the dick.

Unless he comes up with a plan.

“I’m here to help,” James says, breaking the silence. “Anything you want me to do, I’ll do it. We’ll figure this out.”

Well, isn’t that so damn kind of him...

“What else can we make a ring out of?” Mitch asks, whirling around to face them. “Doesn’t hafta be fancy, just something they could wear without it breaking on ‘em. Something like- like wire, or shit, I dunno… wood? Do you think we could carve some rings?”

“Maybe,” James nods. “Though I don’t know how comfortable or sturdy wood rings would be, it’s a good start.”

“A last resort, at least?”

“I think so.”

“What about the library?” Willy pipes in. “We’ve got all kinds of books in there that could help. Remember all the books we found about boats and explosions? If they had books like those, then maybe there’s some on rings or jewelry making?”

Mitch grins.

“Fuck yeah, good thinking,” he pats Willy’s shoulder, “see if you can find anything in there. And remember, keep it down, yeah? Don’t need anyone poking their noses where they don’t belong, and we can’t let Clem find out what happened. Got it?”

“Got it,” Willy nods, a frown forming. “Wait, I gotta go alone? Can’t James come help me look?”

“No, he’s gotta keep an eye on the others.”

James shoots him a questioning look, which is more than enough reason for Mitch to turn away.

“We can’t have anyone coming down here, especially Louis. They’ll ask too many questions, and Clem can’t know I fucked up yet, alright?” Mitch says. “I’m gonna go to the teacher's lounge and see if I can find anything. If not, I’ll gather as many materials as I can find. We’ll meet back here later.”

“In that case, breakfast should be starting soon,” James looks back at the double doors. “I shouldn’t have any troubles, but I’ll do my best to keep everyone’s interests low.”

Mitch smiles, despite himself.

“Sounds like a plan.”

---

“One of these days we should just stay in bed.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep, spend the whole day in bed. Eat, play card games, sleep, what have you.”

Clementine grins, leaning up on her tiptoes to press another kiss to Louis’ cheek before saying, “Only if we can build a pillow fort.”

Louis chuckles for the first time this morning, fully turning around to face her, his hands pressed against the curves of her waist.

“Ah, a woman after my own heart.”

He dips forward as if to kiss her, and she’s fully prepared for it. It’s only when she feels the familiar material of her hat being pressed onto her head does she lean back and open her eyes to find him smirking down at her. He pats her on the head, poorly containing the laughter within him at the sight of her annoyed expression.

“Unfortunately for us, Clem, we can’t take a vacation day and spend it in bed,” he says, letting her go to head for the door. “Our dear Aasim said Lucy’s ready to pop today assuming she already hasn’t and apparently he needs more than Ruby’s help to deal with that.”

“He wants you to help deliver baby bunnies?”

“I know, I thought it was strange, too,” Louis shrugs. “He knows I get attached to cute, fluffy things, and when I’m attached, I don’t exactly want to butcher and eat them, y’know? Must be doing it on purpose to get back at me for always beating him in Go Fish.”

Louis swings open the door, motioning for her.

“After you, m’darling.”

Clementine rolls her eyes, though her smile betrays her.

“You go on ahead,” she tells him. “I’ll see you down at breakfast.”

“Well, in that case…”

Louis dips down and kisses her. His lips are soft and warm against hers, more than enough for her to hold him there for just a few seconds longer before pulling away.

Even though his exhaustion is still rimming his eyes, he smiles brightly.

“I’ll save you a seat,” he says. “And I’ll make sure AJ doesn’t eat your breakfast.”

“Thanks,” Clementine grins, and it’s on the tip of her tongue, the urge to ask him if he’s okay again.

At this point, she doesn’t need to ask, and he doesn’t need to hear it or answer.

Once he’s gone, Clementine gives a big sigh.

Alright, time to find Mitch and give him the string.

Her plan was more than successful last night. Now she finally has the measurements for Mitch to properly adjust the ring. How he’s planning on doing it, she doesn’t know, but he promised her that he’d try and she trusts him.

Mitch isn’t hard to find, which is surprising. He’s digging around in one of the hallway drawers when she finds him, muttering curses to himself with a bitter expression.

He’s spent most of the week down in the basement tinkering around with what she assumes is ways to fix the ring. While she appreciates the effort he’s putting into this, she wishes he was a little less defensive about it.

Ruby questioned him yesterday about it and he about blew up on her.

Mitch takes the string without a word and hurries back outside, never once looking her in the eye.

Odd, she thinks, but sometimes Mitch is hard to figure out. So, she lets it go.

As for the next order of business, she has to find AJ.

Considering he didn’t come back to the room last night, she assumes he had a sleepover with Tenn last night.

For that, she’s grateful.

Not only would he have walked in on something, well, intimate , but AJ has a hard time leaving Louis alone after one of his nightmares. Clementine warned him about being clingy, but all AJ says back is, “I just want him to be okay.”

Louis always insists he’s fine, that the nightmares aren’t really that bad, that he barely remembers them. She knows he still tells AJ that to reassure him. He used to tell her the same thing, only she knows better.

She can still remember the first time she told him to stop lying to her.

“Louis, stop. Just… stop. Lying to me isn’t going to make it any better. You can’t carry this on your own and I can’t fully be here for you unless you’re completely honest with me.”

She never held someone whose entire body rocked and crumbled with so much regret, so much fear. So many things brought to light, so much more than she initially imagined.

That was the first night they slept in the same bed.

He moved in two days later.

She can only hope that tonight’s better, that he can find peace in his dreams again.

Clementine leaves the dorms and steps out into the fresh morning air, inhaling the intoxicating scent of dew ridden grass and dirt.

AJ’s at one of the tables, scarfing down his breakfast next to Louis, James and Tenn.

From a distance, she can see how tired Louis is, even if he’s smiling and laughing with the others.

“Clem!” Omar waves her over, holding up a plate.

That’s when the scent of breakfast hits her, causing her stomach to tighten with a growl. She’s about to hurry over until she sees Violet loading up her bowl. Their eyes meet for a split second, and that’s enough to make Violet jerk around and head to the farthest table possible, one occupied by Aasim. Clementine watches her go as she approaches Omar.

“Good morning,” she greets him.

“It is a good morning, isn’t it? I’m glad there’s a little breeze today,” he says cheerfully.

“Yeah,” she agrees before bringing her voice to a whisper. “Hey… did she say anything to you?”

Omar gives Violet a quick glance, shrugging a shoulder.

“Just thanks. Nothing else. Tried making conversation but I don’t think she’s in the mood today. Y’know.”

“Right," Clementine nods.

"Hey, have you seen Mitch this morning? He hasn’t grabbed his food yet.”

“Oh, um, I haven’t,” she lies.

“He’s nowhere!” Willy exclaims from behind her, causing her to flinch. Somehow that boy manages to be both too loud and too quiet. He’s a good little sneak, she’d give him that.

“Nowhere?” Omar asks, frowning. “He can’t be nowhere. He’s gotta be somewhere. Oh-” Omar lets out a huff. “Is he in the basement again?”

“No!”

“That’s a yes, then,” Omar rolls his eyes. “He’s been down there a lot this week.”

Ruby comes over to them now with anger knitted in her brow and her cheeks puffed red.

“Oh, he’s been banging around down there all mornin’! I just went ta fetch him fer breakfast and he hissed at me like some sorta rodent,” she scowls, “tellin’ me to fuck off, he’s busy! What’s he been doin’ down there that’s so important?”

Willy bites his lip as if to prevent himself from blurting something out, but once Ruby pays him a stern look, it’s out.

“He’s totally not making something super awesome! Nope!”

“Oh, God,” Ruby groans. “What's he makin’?”

Willy shrugs with faux innocence before shooting Clementine a knowing smirk that makes her freeze.

“What’s he makin’?” Ruby asks again, harshly.

“Nothing!” Willy exclaims before pointing at himself, “I would know because I’ve been down there with him and we’re not doing anything! Nothing !”

Clementine never thought that she’d ever meet a worse liar than AJ but-

Wait.

“Willy, I know yer lying! What’re ya doin’ down there?”

“I’m not! We’re doing nothing !”

No, no fucking-

Clementine has to refrain from slapping her forehead.

If Mitch has been down in the basement working on her ring all week, and Willy’s been down there with him…

So much for keeping quiet.

“It best not be another cherry bomb ‘cause I will whip his ass so hard-”

“It’s not! Honest! Don’t worry, it’s nothing!” He smiles at Clementine again, baring all his crooked teeth. She glares back.

That seems to straighten Willy out. He looks down at the dirt and says nothing more.

“Well, either way,” Omar hands Willy a plate, “take that to him. I don’t want to hear him complain he’s hungry when he finally comes outta there.”

“On it!” Willy almost spills the food when he takes off, desperate to get out of the situation.

“Willy!” Clementine calls after him. “Hold it!”

He stutters to a halt in front of the basement doors. When she gets closer, she can hear a repeated banging echoing from down the stairs. They both look around to make sure everyone else is out of earshot. Deeming it safe, she leans down and demands, “What did he tell you?”

Willy avoids her hard gaze.

“Nothin’.”

“ Willy .”

“Okay, fine! Mitch said he needed my help fixing your wedding ring ,” he loudly whispers. Clementine’s hand shoots out to cover his mouth.

“Shhh!” Clem glowers. “Who else has he told?”

“No one,” the boy answers, this time honestly, shaking his head. “And I ain’t gonna tell anyone either, I swear.”

“Willy-”

“Really! I even promised Mitch! Scout’s honor!”

“Clem!” She hears AJ calling for her. She turns to wave at them while keeping her gaze fixed on the young boy.

Willy gives her a sincere smile.

“Don’t worry, Clem, we got it all figured out. James is helping us with it, too! Just leave it to us.”

“James-?”

With that, he hurries into the basement, calling out for Mitch. She sees some of the food slosh over and fall on the stairs.

She sighs.

At this rate, Louis’ll find out before she even has a proper ring.

Doing her best to ignore the nervous frustration spreading heat in her belly, Clementine grabs her breakfast and joins the others at the table.

Interestingly enough, she finds that they’re done with their food.

Instead, papers and colored pencils scatter all over the table. AJ and Louis hunch over their papers in full concentration while James sketches all over his paper lightly, eyes darting up constantly to look at AJ.

Just as she takes a seat, Louis sits back to flash a big smile, holding up his picture.

“Ta-da!” The other three boys stop and look up. They say nothing as they study the drawing. Clementine leans over to see as well.

“...What is it?” AJ asks.

“What is it?” Louis repeats, his confidence wavering. “What does it look like?”

“Like…” AJ squints, cocking his head to try and piece together what the drawing depicts. Finally, he settles on, “A bunny?”

Louis’ eyes go wide.

“A bun- what ?” he exclaims. He re-examines his picture. “It’s not a bunny! It’s Rosie!”

Hearing her name called, Rosie barks, trotting away from Omar and over beside Clementine, sitting politely and awaiting any leftover scraps.

When Clementine gets a better look at the drawing, she can tell that it’s… sort of like a dog. It’s the same color as Rosie, but the face is odd. And the ears are definitely too big.

AJ takes the picture from Louis and shakes his head. “Nope, not Rosie.”

“Everybody’s a critic,” Louis snatches the picture back and holds it up to her. “Clem, you can tell it’s Rosie, right?”

She blinks up at him before slowly shaking her head. She can’t help but giggle a little at the distress on his face as he looks at his drawing.

“I think it kind of looks like her,” Tenn says.

Louis sulks, resting his chin in his palm and slouching over, grumbling, “Thanks, Tenn.”

Clementine rubs his back and offers an encouraging smile. He grins back at her and steals a potato chunk off her plate, popping it into his mouth.

“Clem, look!” AJ hands her his drawing. It’s of him, her and Louis standing together with a large beach ball hanging in the air. “We’re playing catch!”

“Wow,” Clementine beams. “You’re really becoming a great artist.”

Louis leans against her shoulder to look. His face scrunches up in consideration.

“Hmmmm,” he turns the picture upside down for a moment, then right-side up. He glances at the young boy with a smirk. “Looks great, little man. This’ll look awesome on your wall.”

Pleased with the compliment, AJ laughs. He takes his picture back and signs it. When he goes to grab a new paper, he asks, “What’re you drawing, James?”

“Huh? Oh, um,” James snaps his head up, his hand instinctively moving to cover his page, “I was just… well,” he gives a sheepish smile, “I haven’t had a chance to draw in a very long time, so I hope you don’t mind but…”

When he holds up his paper, Clementine gasps.

The portrait of AJ on the paper looks so… real .

“Dude!” Louis exclaims, amazed.

“Hey!” AJ gasps. “That’s my face!”

James puts the paper down and looks away. “I-I’m a little out of practice, you see. The proportions aren’t exactly right, and I always had a hard time with ears-”

“Dude, are you serious?” Louis laughs. “That looks just like him!”

Tenn gasps lightly at the drawing as well, eyes darting over the portrait, taking in the details with curious eyes. His gaze falls back to his own picture, unsure, covering it with his arm and starts pressing his fingers together nervously.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“It’s what I used to do before. Charlie and I… we both drew,” James smiles. “He’s a lot better at it, though.” He picks his pencil back up, looking fondly at the portrait. “He could do amazing things. These huge scenes with so much life and so much character. Me,” he chuckles lightly, “I could only ever do portraits of people.” He looks at Louis with a comforting grin. “I’m terrible at doing animals, too.”

“You’re a real artist!” exclaims AJ. “Just like Tenn!”

Tenn, still fixated on James’ drawing, tucks his own under the stack of other drawings.

“Wow,” he finally says. “You’re really good. Like, really good.”

James notices the young boy’s sudden timidness and looks to Clementine with questioning eyes. She returns his look with a smile and a small gesture towards Tenn.

“Um, thank you,” James awkwardly places a hand on Tenn’s shoulder, “I could show you. How I draw like this, I mean. If you want.”

“R-really?” Tenn stutters. He takes a glimpse at the portrait. “I could draw like that?”

“Of course,” James smiles, “anyone can.”

“Even Louis?” Clementine teases, pointing at his picture of Rosie.

“ Hey ,” Louis takes the picture and holds it to his chest protectively, “I worked hard on this.”

“No doubt,” Clementine laughs, turning to Tenn. “Taking lessons from James could be a lot of fun. What do you think?”

The young boy nods, still not entirely sure, but willing to try. “Yeah, I-” he turns to James, “I want to draw like that.”

“Me, too!” AJ butts in.

“Actually, AJ, I need your help with something today,” Clementine says quickly before AJ can jump on the ‘Drawing with James’ train.

“Me? Why?”

Clementine picks up her plate and stands from the table. “C’mon, kiddo. You can draw with Tenn and James afterward. It won’t take too long.”

“But, Clem-” he whines.

“What do you need help with?” Louis asks. “Perhaps my services could be used instead?”

She grins at him but shakes her head. “Sorry, Lou, need AJ for this one.”

“But-” AJ tries again.

“Now, AJ,” she shuts him down. “C’mon.”

James offers the young boy a comforting smile.

“I’ll give you a personal lesson when you get back,” he says. “Promise.”

“Okay,” AJ sighs.

Just as AJ and Louis go to stand, James says, “Actually, Louis? Can you stay?”

“Dude, don’t mean to undermine your talent, but I don’t think even you could teach me to draw like that,” Louis tries to laugh.

James shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. We need a model.”

“A model?”

“To draw,” he explains, “drawing from life is the best way to learn.”

He gives Clem a knowing look, which she returns with a grateful one of her own, relieved at how intuitive James can be.

“Modeling, hm?” Louis sits back down, puffing out his chest and adjusting his jacket. He flashes a big, bright smile. “How do you want me? Happy? How about sad, distraught? Seductive, perhaps?” Pursing his lips, Louis winks up at Clementine.

“Still, looking straight ahead, please."

“Right, gotcha.”

AJ sighs loudly.

She nudges him with warning eyes. Before they can turn to leave, Louis reaches out for her hand.

“Hold on,” he says, pulling her closer. She leans down and he plants a sweet kiss on her cheek.

AJ sighs even louder.

“Have fun,” Louis smiles.

She squeezes his hand. “You, too.”

James places two blank sheets of paper in front of him and Tenn, handing him a pencil. Tenn takes it eagerly.

As she and AJ walk away, she hears Louis say, “Make me look good, fellas!” and she can’t help but giggle, just a bit.

“Can’t we go on patrol later?” AJ asks.

“Trust me, kiddo, this can’t wait,” she says. “It’s pretty important.”

“Did something happen?”

“No,” she says. “Not yet.”

---

Rosie’s tail wags happily as she trots out through the gates. She doesn’t go far, always sticking close to them as they walk the perimeter. If she ever does wander too far, all Clementine has to do is whistle and Rosie will rush right to her side.

“James is a really good artist,” says AJ, “even better than Tenn.”

“He’s had a lot more practice than Tenn has,” she replies. “With enough help, Tenn can be as good.”

“You think so? You think he can teach me to be that good?” AJ asks hopefully.

“He said he would, didn’t he?” she smiles at AJ’s excited face.

AJ continues to gush about James as they walk. Clementine remains mostly quiet, only answering when AJ expects her to. When he’s run out of things to say, they’ve already gone all the way around.

“No monsters,” AJ says firmly. “And nothing else.”

“Looks like we’re clear.”

“Yeah,” AJ nods. He starts for the gates. Clementine places a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s walk around one more time,” she says.

“Why? It’s clear.”

“I know,” she nods. “But, I need to tell you something, remember?”

“Is it bad?”

“No, not bad at all.”

“Oh.”

Clementine whistles for Rosie and they continue walking. She takes a deep breath and speaks the words she’s been repeating in her mind the entire walk.

“AJ, you remember the couple at the train station, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And, you remember what Louis said about them? After you found that picture?”

“Their wedding picture,” AJ nods. “He said they were in love.”

“Right.”

“A kissing love.”

“Right,” she says again. AJ waits for her to continue, but now, she feels at a loss for words. She stops walking and scratches at the back of her neck. “You know that I love Louis, right?”

“‘Course you do. You guys kiss all the time,” AJ teases.

Clementine feels her cheeks heat up as she murmurs, “Yeah, yeah, right.”

Sitting on one of many bulging rocks thrown about, she inhales deeply. Rosie sits by her feet, dropping the stick she held in her mouth. AJ joins her, concern and confusion apparent on his childish features.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she finally says, “about that day and about that walker couple and… I’m going to ask Louis to marry me.”

AJ doesn’t say anything, not immediately. She can tell from his puzzled eyes that hundreds of questions are forming in his head.

He starts with, “So… what does that mean?”

“Well,” she starts, “it means that, if he says yes, he won’t be my boyfriend anymore. He’ll be my husband.”

Husband.

Let me introduce you to my husband, Louis.

“And you’ll be his, uh…” AJ thinks hard, trying to remember the word.

“I’ll be his wife.”

Just saying it makes her feel strange. Not a bad strange, of course, but a nervous strange.

“His wife.” AJ sits on this information, mulling it over. “And you’ll be married. So, things will be different?”

“Well, no, not really. We’ll have rings on- well, he’ll have a ring on, maybe. But, nothing drastic.”

“A ring?”

“Remember the walkers?” she asks. “At their wedding, they gave one another one to seal the deal, I guess. That’s what that picture was.”

Then, AJ gets excited.

“Okay,” he says. “So, you guys’ll have a big party?”

“Maybe we will, but I have to ask him first,” she says. “Last week, when I went to look for James, we went back to the train station to take their rings. Couldn’t find the lady’s, but the man still had his on.”

“You gonna give it to Louis?”

“That’s the plan.”

AJ’s grin grows wider.

“This…” he draws out, “this is a big thing, isn’t it?”

“It kind of is,” she answers honestly. “Well, for me and him, anyway.”

“Me, too,” AJ laughs. “I like this. We’re gonna throw a huge party! We haven’t done that in forever! We can pull out that, uh, that… music thing! And play games! And-”

“Woah, hold it,” she stops him, laughing at his eagerness. “I haven’t even thought of a way to ask him yet.”

“Well, go ask him now!”

“No, AJ, I can’t ask him right now.”

“Why not?”

“That’s not how it works.” She stands up and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I want to do this right. If I just asked him like it was any other question, then it wouldn’t be as important. I want it to mean something. I want it to be special,” she looks back at the school, “in a world that’s so fucked up, that’s taken away so much from all of us, where any moment could be our last. I want him to know how much I love him. How much I want to be with him in a different way. That’s why I went back and got that ring. I’m not just going to ask, I’m going to propose.”

AJ listens silently, the gears turning in his head as he processes her words.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” she sighs, “I love him, and I want to give us something that we thought was lost forever. Does that make sense?”

AJ grabs her hand, smiling.

“Yeah, I get it.”

Scooting closer, he wraps his arms around her waist, holding her tight.

“Good,” Clementine hugs him back. “That brings me to what I really wanted to ask you.”

“What?”

“Do I have your blessing?”

“My blessing?”

“Are you okay with me asking Louis to marry me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay? I love you, and I love Louis, too. We’re family.”

Clementine’s throat tightens, and so does her grip on AJ.

“That’s all I wanted to hear.”

#[with you]#twdg clementine #twdg louis #twdg clouis #twdg mitch #twdg james #twdg jamitch #twdg willy #twdg ruby #twdg omar #twdg violet #twdg aasim #twdg rosie #twdg tenn #twdg aj #clouis #twdg louisentine #louisentine

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