#im not even exaggerating on the number of chapters either

[prjctdiva]

when the long unresolved minor plot point becomes relevant again 700 chapters later

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.22

Obstacle

04/08/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,413

Warnings: angst, jealousy, marital problems, pregnancy, allusions to cheating (no actual infidelity), fluff, smug Loki

A/N: It took me SO long to get this chapter down. I wrote literally like a few sentence a day for a bit and then finally got some good chunks out. This has been a tough week but this chapter makes it all worth it! I hope y’all think so too. A lot of good stuff happens in this chapter, as in stuff that I really like. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The shuffle around the palace as Loki escorts you through the front gate is overwhelming.

It’s safe to say that judging by your reception when you’d shown up in Heimdall’s tower located on the far side of the city, the Asgardians are happy to see you.

Armod is also happy to see you and you rush to get into your car before you can get swarmed by eager Asgardians.

Loki joins you in the back seat and lets Armod gush over his happiness at seeing you back home and healthy. And pregnant! More than anything, the people are happy to see the swell of your belly.

Many of the women are crying as you step out of the car at the palace gate, the men cheering enthusiastically.

Some of the children have found flower petals to throw into the air and it rains white, pink, and yellow blossoms.

It's the small waving hand of a little girl with ebony floor length braids that tugs too hard on your heartstrings and you give in to your impulse.

“Armod, stop the car, I’d like to greet the people,” you ask, swayed further by the eager faces of the young girl's siblings who flank her..

As much as being Queen had come unexpectedly and as much work as it's been, loving the Asgardians has never been a challenge and you've missed your people.

Their kindness has always been the best part of your day.

Armod gives Loki a quick look but stops the car just as the palace gates are opening.

He pulls over to the side, putting it in park before hurrying out to open the door for you.

“Are you sure?” Loki checks, reaching over to place his hand over yours on the seat.

“Of course. I owe them this. I’ve been gone for so long.”

“If you’d rather go in, we can find an excuse.”

“Loki,” you laugh once. “Is something wrong? Is there a reason I shouldn’t get out of the car?”

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I just don’t want you to force yourself. I know this pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you.”

“I’m okay. And I’m sure they wanna see the proof that they have an heir coming. Really, Loki, I don't mind.”

Loki sighs, but gets out quickly to move around and take Armod’s place and offer you his arm.

Taking it, you pull yourself out, and after a long moment to steady yourself on your feet, you turn to face your people.

A large number of Valkyries suddenly pour from the open palace gateway and you wait as they line themselves in front of the gathering crowd. A simple border of control to keep you safe.

The people don’t seem threatened by the guard either and they continue to cheer until you raise your hand and call them to silence.

It only takes a few seconds for the noise to die, leaving only the ambient sounds of the city, wind, and the shuffling feet as more Asgardians and visiting humans gather.

“Hello,” you begin, voice a little shaky from nerves. “I’m...I-I’d like to start by first apologizing for disappearing. And then for being gone so long.”

The people watch and listen attentively, hanging on your every word. As your hands drop down to your belly to stroke it anxiously out of habit, their eyes are drawn to it and they seem to rattle with excitement again.

Looking down at your tummy, you contemplate the little one inside and the kicks he gave you earlier in the day.

He's really in there.

“It’s been a long journey to do what’s been expected of me. Difficult, actually. Giving you and Thor what we’ve all been hoping for is a privilege though. It's important that you all know that.

"However, I'm not as strong as all of you. I'm not as resilient. As soon as I knew that I was expecting the future prince or princess of New Asgard, I knew that I had to take precautions. I had to stop thinking like your Queen and just for a while, think like a mom. I told Thor that I wanted to take some time away from my duties as Queen if only to make sure that my pregnancy would take. In order to ensure the health of this baby.

“Im so very sorry if I caused any of you any worry or pain by disappearing. That was never my intention and it makes me...I can only say that I'm sorry. I hope that you all can understand why I left. The The thing is I’m happy to say that my efforts weren't wasted, clearly."

There's a rumble of gentle laughter that flows through the crowd and breaks the slightly somber mood your speech is causing. You give them a smile and they smile back.

"And while that does make me very happy, it has not been easy to carry this baby. I have been sick and weak but after some rest I'm now feeling stronger than ever. With the constant and careful care provided by Doctors Wilson and Alric, I’m finally able to resume my duties as Queen with the knowledge that this baby is strong and healthy and my body can take the strain of bringing him-or her into this world.

“I’m so happy to be back among my people, my home. You all are my family and it fills me with such joy to know that I have made you all proud.”

The people cheer, more and more gathering along the street so that it’s now clogged and impassable. Others have taken to peeking out of windows from the surrounding buildings or finding balconies and roofs to stand on to get a better look at you.

Their excitement changes to trepidation at the look on your face as you realize that now is the perfect time to address what happened yesterday.

They’re so attuned to your mood that they quiet down again and wait nervously for you to speak.

"On a more serious note, I know that many of you must have been shocked by the lies spewed onto the pages of the Watch. And I'd like to be as clear as I possibly can about my absence from the palace.

"I only left because of the concern I had for our future prince or princess. There was absolutely no other reason for my absence in our great city. While it is true that something did happen between Thor, Jane, and myself--well, I will only say that now I know that His Majesty the King of Asgard is wholly devoted to me and our family, just as he has been from the moment he accepted me as his wife.

"Not that I ever doubted it," you lie. No one needs to know how bad things are and it is true that now you know Thor is devoted to you.

So, it's not completely a lie.

"As a people," you continue. "We'll need to be vigilant about the people we choose to trust to come into our homes. We will be more cautious now, and as a woman…"

You swallow hard, thinking about the words itching on the tip of your tongue to tumble forward and make your heart clear. Maybe it's not right to say it? Maybe it isn't the queenly thing to do?

You don't care.

"As a wife and a soon-to-be mother, I will say that Doctor Jane Foster is not welcome in my home. She has proven to be unworthy of the trust we placed in her and while her expertise is an invaluable commodity that I am sad to lose, I would rather have the second best than risk the stability of my family."

To your surprise, there are a flutter of approving nods and smiles, wives and husband's looking scandalized by the confirmation that something went down but clearly it was Thor that had Jane kicked out. A few cheers come but they quiet down quickly.

"My love for His Majesty is unwavering. As is his for me. No marriage can be without it's struggles but Thor and I are as united as we have ever been. Both in love, devotion, to each other and you, our people. Together we will strive to protect this kingdom to the best of our abilities and with this child, I hope we can begin to lay down proper roots for us so that everyone on Earth will know that New Asgard is here to stay."

The crowd cheers. It's deafening and your hands are trembling so terribly even clenched into fists they shake.

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" someone shouts and the others fall into the chant as it's picked up by what sounds like everyone in the crowd.

A cool hand presses against the center of your back and you lean towards him as he whispers in your ear.

"That was beautifully done, Y/N," Loki admires. "Now come along. You need your rest."

You cradle your bump and the crowd cheers louder as you wave while Loki leads you back into the car.

As it pulls away from the curb, the Valkyrie turn to follow behind you. Faces full of stern pride. Their gleaming armor shining bright in the late afternoon sun.

The large wooden and steel reinforced gates of the palace close with a thundering clatter and you lean back, heart suddenly clenching painfully. Your stomach turns and you feel like you might throw up.

You shut your eyes and open the window allowing the cooling air to help drive your nausea away.

"Y/N? You alright?" Loki checks, putting his hand on your arm.

"I'm fine," you assure him, unwilling to open your eyes.

"Are you sure? Only, you're looking a little green."

That doesn't actually happen does it? Do people look green when they're gonna throw up?

You assume he's exaggerating, but as the last bit of the swirl in your belly passes, you look at him with fearful eyes.

"I'm nervous," you admit.

"To see Thor?"

"Mm," you nod.

"He's missed you. He will probably try and hug you. Might even kiss you."

"I don't know if I can handle that, Loki."

"You'll have to. The guards around the palace are sworn to secrecy about anything that happens in here, but with the amount of information that magazine was able to get we're pretty sure there's a mole amongst our number."

You look away from him, frowning because the last thing you want is to hug and kiss Thor.

Well, that is, you really want to do those things. Which is why you shouldn't. Not until you can be around him with some kind of rational thought and control over your feelings.

You need to get a grip and come to terms with the reality of your situation before you can let yourself love hum.

You have to protect yourself.

It turns out that you have nothing to worry about.

Estrid who had come before you with your things is there to greet you. A few others of the palace staff come to see you and you're welcome back with fondness.

Because you know you have to play the part, you look for him.

"His Majesty had a sudden summons from the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, my Queen. He apologizes for missing your arrival but he's had the small dining room filled with all of your favorites.

"When you are finished with dinner, he has asked that you wait for him in his study."

Estrid's tone tells you she's wary for you. She wants to make sure you're okay.

The disappointment you feel gives you away not only to yourself, but everyone there to see your face fall as you caress your belly.

"A blessing in disguise?" Loki suggests in your ear for just you, but the smile on his lips says he knows better.

"He'll be back before it gets too late, Your Majesty," Estrid assures you, trying to soothe your sadness. "He promised. There’s nothing more he wants than to see you."

"I know," you smile at her, then the others before you head for the dining room, your stomach grumbling in anticipation of the foods you know are waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting is torture. You keep trying to read your book but your attention is pulled back to the door of Thor’s study every few seconds.

You groan, dropping the book onto the desk before throwing your head back with scrunched up eyes.

How is it possible to be desperate to see someone while also dreading it?

It feels like you'll die if you don't lay eyes on Thor but also like it'll tear you to shreds if you do. There's no winning here.

You gasp as the door opens and get to your feet in the same breath.

Thor's body is rising and falling heavily with his own labored breathing. He'd been running.

To get to you? No. You can't be swayed.

"I'm here."

His declaration is soft but heavy with meaning. More than just him announcing his arrival.

"Oh, aren't you a vision," he gushes.

"Hi," you whisper, only because you can't catch your breath.

He's wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt stretched across his bulging chest. He's even more massive than you remember. Three months away has deprived you so fully that suddenly being in his presence leaves you hungry for him.

You want him so much.

"I've missed you, desperately," he confesses. "May I greet you properly?"

You frown, so undecided.

"Or not," Thor relents. "Forgive me, I just got caught up in the moment."

Why is this so hard?

You want to feel him.

"You can greet our baby properly," you give in.

A big part of you needs to feel him and this is the only way you can give in and feel like you're still doing your best to hold strong in your resolve to get some distance.

Thor’s eye lights up and quickly finds the swell of your tummy with recognition.

"Really?"

"I will never keep you from our baby, Thor. Even if I'm not ready for things to go back to normal between us just yet."

Thor takes a half step towards you and watches you carefully for any indication that you're not comfortable with his proximity.

You sigh, head tilted to the left slightly before you hold out your hand to him, beckoning him closer.

In three long strides Thor takes your hand and stops when he's only a foot away.

"Here," you gasp.

Your heart is in overdrive. Thor’s touch is doing things to your body. There's an initial rush of butterflies in your stomach and quickly you pull Thor’s hands to the spots where your baby is kicking in response.

Thor’s body freezes. He goes rigid. He even stops breathing.

For a moment you begin to worry that maybe you've broken him, until he suddenly drops to his knees.

He swallows hard, eyes pooling as he stares at the swell of your stomach as the baby continues to kick.

“They’re really in there,” he’s so choked up about it that his voice cracks around the words.

As he speaks, the baby kicks more.

Thor laughs but then leans in to kiss your stomach over the fabric of your dress.

“We really made her,” Thor gushes.

“Her?”

He looks up at you, confused for a second before he smiles wide, “Or him. It doesn’t matter. What matters is our baby is coming.”

Your heart swells, and you’re so happy that you could float away like a hot air balloon with the warmth flooding your limbs.

This is the moment you’d dreamt of. This is the moment that had been stolen from you by Jane and her lies. This is the moment that you and Thor had both been yearning for.

He’s so caught up in it, floating through the glow of this perfect moment that he presses his lips to your tummy again two more times before he’s rising, his hand hooked behind your neck as he meets your lips as he gets to his feet.

You’re so unprepared for it, so utterly lost in this sweet exchange between him and your baby that your lips pucker on their own.

He opens his eye and yours, already open, stare into his. He looks slightly shocked to find himself kissing you but he doesn’t stop.

Instead, his expression shifts into a pained look of desire. He pulls back, his hand dropping to grip your bicep.

“I would say that I’m sorry but I have been wanting to kiss you since the moment I left you three months ago.”

You say nothing, watching him, listening. You’re searching your soul to see if this is okay with you because it feels okay. Despite the sirens blaring in your mind about the restrictions you’d set for yourself when you’d decided to come back home, your body is telling you it needs this. Your heart is painfully aching at Thor’s touch.

You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. 

“Is this alright? I can go.”

The idea of him going now feels like the end of the world. Rationally, you know that isn’t an appropriate response to his offering to leave you be, especially when you know you asked him for space for specific reasons.

“No,” your hands grip the sides of his t-shirt tightly, holding him in place without any actual strength since compared to him, you’re as mighty as a little mouse.

You refuse to look up at him, despite the crumbling of your resolve.

“No, don’t go.”

It’s an almost involuntary shy response to your diminishing shame at losing all control after his touch. After one kiss. You should be disappointed in yourself. And part of you is. However, that part of you grows increasingly small as Thor gently takes hold of your chin and guides your gaze up until you can meet his.

“I’m sorry, cherub. I will try and be worthy of you again.”

“I know,” you admit, knowing how sorry he’s been from the moment he realized that he’d done something that hurt you badly. “I know you are.”

“Can I kiss you, cherub?”

His voice is so deep, so alluring and coaxing that you drop your gaze again, fixing it on his collarbone before slowly you nod.

His arm winds its way around your waist and he pulls you to him before dipping down and catching your lips with his again.

He pulls away after a second because the swell of your belly gets in the way, but he laughs and looks down at it.

The pleasant sound of his happiness gives you too much joy.

As you begin to smile, Thor reaches down to press one hand to the side of your stomach while he pulls you against him again and kisses you this time with more fervor.

The longer he has his lips pressed to yours, the more enthusiastic he gets until finally you’re breathless and you pull back but instead of pulling away, you wrap your arms around him and fist the back of his t-shirt,

You bury your face against his wide chest and Thor brings his hands back up to caress the sides of your face, his lips kissing the top of your head.

“I know I may not have a right to say this, but thank you for coming home. Thank you for coming back to me. I thought I’d lost you."

His arms grow a little tighter, his heart is in an absolute stampede.

You turn your head sideways so that you can listen to his heartbeat.

"This is what I'd wanted," you whimper, starting to be overcome with the emotion of being reunited with Thor and things falling into place more easily. "This is how I'd wanted us to share this moment."

Thor sighs heavily, giving you one more squeeze before he pushes you back a little so that he can look at you.

“I’m so sorry that I robbed you of that. I was a fool,” he nods, his eye intense as he stares into yours with wordless declarations piercing into you.

The memory of your speech with the people when you arrived pops into your head and now with Thor’s arms around you it all feels a little like an overreaction. The past three months feels like a distant nightmare.

Or does this feel like a dream?

“Thor,” you begin but Thor’s lips are on you again, drowning out your words.

“Oh, to hear you say my name,” he declares and kisses you again.

Your mouth opens for him and you absolutely melt against his chest as he nearly dips you in passion.

He pulls back again, “Is this real?”

He kisses you.

“You feel so good in my arms.”

He kisses you.

“Your skin is so…” but then he hums and kisses you.

He dips down and with his arms tight around your waist but also careful with the swell of your stomach, he lifts you so that you’re level with his eye.

“I love you, so much, my cherub. Thank you, thank you for coming home. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away,” you sigh. “I need to be strong without you, Thor. I was hurt but I never stopped loving you.”

His face goes through shame, understanding, and then elation.

In a burst of subdued anger and aggression for what he put you through, you reach up and grab his shoulder. You dig your fingers in against the taut muscle then reach up to pull one of his ears.

You’re clearly not hurting him but he allows you to move his head, understanding the need to express your anger even if you’re not doing any damage.

“Never do that to me again,” you growl. “Never say that you’ll leave me. Why would you say that? Even in passing? You were so damn sure.”

“No, Y/N, I wasn’t. The moment I saw you, I knew that I could never leave you. I’m sorry. I could never even think those thoughts again.”

“You better not, or I won’t come back next time. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”

Thor takes your threat for what it is. A promise. Truth.

He shakes his head as he leans forward to press his forehead to yours, shutting his eye.

“I swear,” he begins. “On my life.”

He keeps you there, hovering over the ground with your heads together for a few minutes before he slowly lowers you to the ground. You realize it’s because he wants to stroke your belly and you take a slight step back so that he can.

He smiles, happy. It reminds you of the look your people had when you’d arrived only a hundred times as possessive and joyful.

Again, your speech intrudes on your reunion and this time, you won’t let him distract you.

“Thor,” you coax, placing your hands over his where they rest on the sides of your stomach.

“Yes, my cherub?”

He’s excessive in the affection he puts in his voice but you know that he must be floating on cloud nine after what you both went through when you made him leave you at your house.

“I-I did something and I’m not sure if it was right of me to do it,” you watch his brow wrinkle and for a split second you almost lose yourself in the beauty of his face.

Has he always been this handsome?

“When I got back I kinda made a speech? Everyone was so happy to see me and to see me carrying our heir and I wanted to apologize to them for leaving and for making them worry. I wanted to share in their excitement for the baby and with that stupid tabloid having come out yesterday-”

“Right, the article,” there’s guilt in his voice despite there being no truth to the rumors it printed.

“I wanted to put their minds at ease and I...I did confirm that something happened with Jane but not what they were thinking.”

Thor’s expression hardens just a tad and he pulls backs towards a large armchair. He grabs your hand though and pulls you along with him until he can sit and then carefully attempts to offer you his lap, unsure if you’ll sit.

You do, because you’re tired and because you’re not eager to be away from him again. Now that you’re touching him, you’re not in a hurry to change that again.

“What did you say exactly?”

Swallowing hard, you lick your lips nervously, “Um...I told them the truth. Not exactly the truth, but enough of it that they’ll understand that Jane isn’t welcome here. I said that the only reason I left is for my health and the health of the baby, which is true. I didn’t want them to worry about us because even if we didn’t reconcile, I want us to be united for them at least.

“But I don’t trust Jane, Thor. Not after what she did. Not after how she treated me when you weren’t looking, and the people need to know that I will protect them from anyone, no matter who they are to you or me.”

Thor’s face grows pained as you speak, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You’re starting to realize that it’s going to be hard to get his hands off it, but that doesn’t seem like a terrible problem.

“I wish you had told me that she’d been rude to you,” Thor sighs, taking his hand off of his stomach to stroke your cheek. “If I had known-”

“She wasn’t rude to me Thor, she dismissed me. I wasn’t even worth acknowledging to her and now I know it’s because she was jealous and wanted you back because what? She saw what we had together and suddenly it was good enough for her?

“I was in her way. That’s all I was. Even if in the end she couldn’t go through with it whether it was because she felt guilty for doing this to us or for lying or for having second thoughts and knowing that she doesn’t want to be Queen or a mom, she’s a bad person to me. And I have every right to protect myself, my baby, and our marriage from her. She’s not welcome here Thor. I never want to see her again. Ever.”

He’s cradling you now, holding you close because the intensity with which you're telling him that Jane is not welcome in your home is transferring to him.

“And if you’d known, you wouldn’t have done anything, Thor. You’d probably have talked to her and asked her what was going on and she would have lied to you and you would have believed her.”

He doesn’t deny it. He does look like it hurts him to know that you know though. That’s enough for you.

“I think it took her lying and doing this to us to make you see what she’s capable of.”

Thor shuts his eye, resting his head against your chest as he wraps his arms around you again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Thor. But you weren’t the one who lied. I mean, you didn’t tell me what was happening, but you weren’t the reason that this happened. If Jane hadn’t lied-”

“But she did,” Thor says, his deep voice anguished. “And I failed to honor my vows. You are my Queen and I should have come to you the moment she told me she was pregnant.”

You both fall into silence as you reach over to stroke his bicep. His skin is so soft. Touching it gives you comfort in a way you weren’t aware you needed. The more you touch it the more you need to feel it.

A finger stroking his skin turns into two, then four, then your entire hand is running up under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

With the way his hand curls around your thigh, you know that both your bodies are responding to your touch. Both of you are heated but instead of giving into that because you aren’t ready for that yet, you lay your head on his shoulder and curl in closer to his chest.

Thor sighs heavily, wrapping you up in his arms as he cradles you close.

“Now we know better,” you whisper.

“Now I know what losing you will do to me,” Thor agrees. “I’ve missed you so much, cherub.”

You don’t respond. You’re too choked up to say anything without your voice cracking so both of you stay like that for a while.

The cocoon of Thor’s arms is toasty and from the exhaustion you’re feeling plus all of the emotions that have drained you, your eyes are heavy and difficult to keep open.

“What about you?”

Thor’s chest rumbles with a chuckle.

“We can talk more tomorrow, cherub. Sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” you lie.

“Very well, then. What about me?”

“You’re sleepy?” you look up at him, full of concern.

He chuckles again, “No, cherub. What were you asking?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if you’re okay. What Jane did to you can’t have been easy. Despite what she did to us as a couple, she said she was pregnant. You’ve been wanting a baby for so long and she dangled that in front of you like the rat that she is. And then she wasn’t even pregnant?”

Thor’s arms constrict around you as he pulls you up towards him to kiss you.

It’s slow and full of emotion.

“Even after all of that, you’re still worried about me?”

“It took time,” you admit. “Once I wasn’t so angry and I thought about what Jane really did. I hate the idea that your heart broke over her lies. I can’t believe she ever loved you if she was willing to make you feel that way.”

Thor just stares at you, searching your eyes before he rubs his nose gently against your own. When he speaks, his voice is so low, so deep, an intimate whisper. It burrows into your chest and settles right there underneath your ribs and makes you breathless with missing him and desire.

“That’s why you’re my Queen, Y/N. And she is not.”

You’re not sure if it’s an Asgardian ability or if maybe it’s something specific to Thor, but he has a way of making you swoon.

“I missed you so much,” he confesses again, that whisper sinful. “Did you not miss me?”

You nod because you can’t speak. There’s a lump in your throat made of both sadness and want.

“Was your bed as frigid as mine was in your absence? Did you miss my breath on your neck as I did yours? Or the steady beat of your heart when you pressed your breast to my back as you held me while I slept?”

Fuck, he’s making this so impossible.

“I hate you so much,” you counter, but his lips stretch into a small knowing smile as you take a tight hold of the neck of his shirt and pull him up to meet your lips.

He exhales heavily into you, tasting you, relishing in every pulsating touch as both your hearts ache and yearn almost in disbelief as if both of you can’t believe that these wants, these needs are finally being met.

As he pulls back to tilt his head the other way, he takes hold of the sides of your face again, his lips grazing yours, “I love you.”

Before you can reply or yank him back into that torturous yet blissful kiss, a voice at the doorway clears their throat.

“Well, that was fast, what happened to keeping him at a distance?”

Loki’s voice pulls your gaze and you can feel your cheeks and neck burn at how easily it seems you’ve crumbled when finally face to face with Thor.

You frown at your brother-in-law, while Thor ignores his brother and leans up to press very non-chaste kisses to your neck, “I told you coming back was a bad idea.”

But Loki’s smile is blinding and with one chuckle he backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly as Thor turns you back to him so that he can get back to kissing you.

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART VII - I’m not going to lie, this chapter and the next one are probably a little more on the boring side. It’s just sort of Eris spending some time with Lucien. Shit’s gonna hit the fan soon, but Eris is just going to spend some time at the beach, for no reason really. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!!!

no im SO excited for eris and lucien brotherly boring. BEACH EP BEACH EP BEACH EP BEACH EP

Prince of Ashes. Part VII.

masterlist.

“Give me your shirt.” 

“I don’t obey the orders of anyone below my station,” Eris tilted his head back, his fingers digging into the sand of the beach. He was leaning on his forearms, his eyes shut, the afternoon sun warming his face. Eris liked making snobbish remarks like that around his friends just as much as they liked reminding him that his status as heir amounted to absolutely nothing in their presence.

Micah repeated himself, “Give me your shirt.” 

With an exaggerated sigh, Eris undid the laces of his thin, light brown shirt, throwing it at his friend. “Shit, Micah, you should have asked sooner.” Micah’s nose and cheeks were a frightening red colour, the gold of his tattoos bright against the burned skin of his neck, all because he was too proud to admit that he burned when he stayed out in the sun for too long.

“I hate you all,” Micah declared, lifting Eris’s shirt and putting it over his head like a cloak, shielding himself from the rays of the sun. 

Eris knew Lagos was pouting, mocking, “Poor little Micah, can’t stay out in the sun.” 

“Poor little Micah is going to throw sand at you,” Micah muttered.

Widge smiled, lifting the brim of the sun hat he’d borrowed from his mother. While he looked ridiculous, Widge didn't seem to care. “Not all of us have exceptional magical abilities,” he huffed a laugh as Enya jumped up, licking at his face. Eris swore that hound loved Widge more than him. Lagos was sprawled on his back, pants thrown off to the side, using his own shirt as a pillow as he laid by Eris in his undershorts. He was faintly glowing.

Eris kept expecting Lucien to do the same thing, eyes following Lucien as he played near the water’s edge. Lucien hadn’t shown signs of any other Day Court magic since Lady Morai had suppressed it, but Eris still found himself worrying over it. Rufus was also by the water’s edge, boots off, pants rolled up, and shirt left unbuttoned as he watched over Lucien. Every so often, he would kick water at their youngest brother, laughing every time Lucien told him to stop.

“Your brother is perhaps an even greater menace than you were upon your arrival at my camp,” Micah declared. He awkwardly moved towards Eris, dragging his ass along the sand while still trying to keep the shirt over his head.

“He belongs in a circus,” Lagos added. 

“I like having him there,” Widge managed to get out as Enya continued to lick his cheeks.

“He’s doing alright?” Their father had recently sent Rufus to one of Autumn’s largest war camps. It was located in the South, near the Spring Court border; Eris had been sent there at two decades old with nothing but a sword, brown leathers, and a title he was pretty sure he’d never be able to live up to. Eris was proud to admit that over two centuries later, he could claim being a half-decent commander of his father’s armies - not fantastic at combat, but damn-good at military strategy.

Eris had heard that Rufus, despite his more care-free attitude, was doing quite well, but it was always Eris’s first instinct to assume that Rufus was going to get himself killed or cause some sort of international catastrophe. Especially with political tensions in Prythian so high lately, Eris found that he’d become quite the mother hen, constantly asking his friends how Rufus was holding up. “He’s absolutely mad,” Micah laughed, “I could throttle him sometimes.”

“Cauldron, does he write his reports backwards?” Eris smiled just thinking about it, “Rufus used to do shit like that to his tutors, you can read them in front of a mirror.” 

“He walks around the camp with a near-empty cognac bottle filled with apple juice, and makes bets on whether or not he can hit moving targets with his bow and arrows,” Lagos said. “He won 50 gold marks from me before I found out what he’d been doing.” 

“Serves you right,” Eris grinned.

“He also tells us the most interesting things,” Micah hummed. He nudged at Eris with his knee. “Things that you neglect to mention.” 

Lagos didn't sound too amused as he said, “Told us he was afraid for your life.”

Eris knew exactly what Rufus had told them. “If this is about Lizaveta—” 

“Of course it’s about Lady Lizaveta,” Lagos leaned up on an elbow. “Your choice in lovers is abysmal, truly.” 

“Don’t offend me,” Micah mumbled.

Lagos ignored him, “It’s like you dive headfirst into relationships that are bound to get you killed.” Eris sneered, mostly because Lagos was right. If his father ever learned of the countless male lovers Eris had been with over the centuries, Eris was almost certain that Beron would kill him. Or if he found out about the lesser faeries, or the females of common birth. Eris had been very good at ignoring his father’s rants about degeneracy when he’d been much younger.

But Lizaveta was a full-blooded noble, and Eris didn’t really see the problem. “How might this relationship kill me?” 

“You’re sneaking around with a female who’s rumoured to have killed her own husband in his sleep less than a decade ago. Does that seem like a good idea?” 

“I’m sure he deserved it,” Widge muttered absently, “Lots of lords in Autumn deserve it.” Everyone turned to face him, but he was looking off into the distance, no longer paying any attention to them.

Micah placed a gentle hand on Eris’s knee, “We’re just messing with you.” Eris knew they meant well, but his friends had a horrible habit of sticking their noses into Eris’s business, all hidden behind the guise that they “cared for his well-being,” as they so often reminded him. 

“Just make sure you’re not her next victim,” Lagos added, “And do try and keep your father from finding out.”

Eris scowled, “Your faith in me is astounding.” He’d had centuries worth of practice in keeping his lovers a secret from the rest of his family and ensuring that rumours didn’t make their way to the always-listening ears of Autumn Court aristocrats. It was exhausting. He looked away from his friends to make sure Lucien and Rufus hadn’t drowned while he’d been distracted.

Lucien seemed to have convinced Rufus to play some sort of aggressive game with him, spinning Lucien around in his arms before throwing him deeper into the ocean. Lucien landed in the water with a big splash, Rufus roaring with laughter. Eris would have scolded them both had Lucien not jumped up from the water with a huge grin on his face, looking very foolish as he struggled to run at Rufus.

“Just be careful, we quite enjoy your company.” Micah squeezed his knee once before moving his hand, his fingers now dragging through the sand. 

Eris finally looked away from his brothers after deciding that they would be fine, turning to face Micah again. “Let’s talk about what happened in Spring.” 

“Yes, let’s talk about how we’re on the verge of another war, Eris would rather talk about our impending doom than his lover.” Eris glared at Lagos.

Micah scoffed, “There’s not going to be a fucking war, both of them are too young - untried. They aren’t going to do something so stupid.” 

Eris considered this. Rhysand and Tamlin had just become new High Lords, perhaps they would start a war just to prove that they could. “If somebody killed my mother, I might start a war.” 

“You might start a war just for fun.” Eris kicked sand at Lagos, a crooked smile on his face that was becoming more and more rare. Eris knew Lagos simply meant well.

Lagos returned the smile, dimples showing. Lagos was perhaps the only one of his friends that constantly bothered Eris for being a cruel prince of the Autumn Court.  

“Cauldron, you wouldn’t do that either,” Micah seemed so sure. Eris sometimes wished he had that amount of confidence in his ability to make good choices. 

Widge furrowed his brows, looking up from what he was in the process of writing in messy, scrawled script in the sand. “Wait, what happened in Spring?”

Somebody would explain it to him later, Eris thought. “I wonder if Rhysand will be a better High Lord than his father.” It was no secret that the Hewn City was more horrible than any part of Beron’s territory. Eris had despised the place since the first moment he’d stepped foot in it. He’d take his own two-faced city of Calchas over that wretched city any day. 

“Probably not,” Micah adjusted the shirt over his head, “But at least he’s better looking.”

Eris would have to agree. With the dark hair and those star-lit, violet eyes, Rhysand was one of the better looking faeries Eris had ever seen. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, “I like his general better.” 

Micah grinned, “What about the shadowsinger?” Eris grinned back, “Fancy the shadowsinger, do you?” 

“Who doesn’t?” 

“Those people are from the Night Court.” Widge looked confused, much like he usually did. 

“Very observant,” Lagos muttered.

“We’re talking about Tamlin and Rhysand,” Eris explained. “The new High Lords.” 

“Heard about that,” Widge said with a nod. “Sounds like a mess.” With a shake of his head, almost like he was clearing his thoughts, Widge went back to whatever he was writing in the sand without so much as a second glance in their direction. Eris shifted slightly so that he could more clearly see what Widge was doing. He’d drawn three interconnected circles in the sand, numbers and formulas surrounding them.

Eris had always enjoyed watching Widge work, liked trying to figure out what he was doing, and he wasn’t paying attention to anything as he tried to understand where Widge was going with this. Definitely not smart on his part, he hadn’t been expecting so much water to crash onto his head, leaving him completely soaked. Widge yelped as some of the water fell on him as well. 

“What the fuck,” Eris growled.

“My circles,” Widge whined, the water having ruined whatever he was writing. Eris hoped he remembered what it was, it had seemed interesting. He heard everyone’s laugh. From the deep rumble of Micah, to the obnoxious cackle of Lagos, to the loud howl of Rufus. It should have come as no shock that Rufus would try and pull a prank on Eris, no doubt with Lucien’s help. He was rather disappointed in himself for not keeping an eye on the two biggest troublemakers in all of Prythian.

Eris looked up at Rufus with a glare, he could see the steam in the air around him as he used some of his magic to dry off. “Honestly, Rufus,” Eris sneered, teeth bared. 

“My mistake, didn’t see you sitting there.” He’d filled his fucking boot with water and thrown it at him. 

Eris ran a hand through his still damp hair, “You’ve disappointed me.” Rufus just smiled, tugging once on Lucien’s braid.

“Lucien told me to do it,” Rufus was very good at playing the part of innocent victim. His auburn brows were raised, his russett eyes wide. “No I didn’t,” Lucien instantly stopped cackling, defending his honour. “Eris, he’s the disappointment, I’d never.” 

“Little assholes,” Eris mumbled, shoving Lucien playfully. Lucien laughed again, dropping into the sand right beside him. Rufus sat by Lagos, winking at Eris before he sprawled on his back, Enya trotting over to lie down by his head.

Eris was glad for moments like this - when his father wasn’t in Autumn and he had the time to spend with the people he cared about. He knew it was a weakness, the fact that he cared about them, but he'd missed them all. Rufus was stuck at the war camp with his friends, Lucien was stuck in the Forest House, and Eris was stuck in his territory far away from them both.

Eris had been staying away from Lucien anyway, visiting less and less. It’d been months since he’d last seen the little runt, but Eris knew it was for the best. 

“This was really nice, Eris,” Lucien said with a small smile, his face turned towards the sun. He looked happy. 

Eris nodded once, closing his eyes and turning his own face towards the sun, “I thought it was really nice, too.”

Perhaps it was very foolish of Eris to be spending his valuable time frolicking on beaches, but all he wanted to do right now was pretend everything would be alright. Pushing all his worries aside, the sound of waves crashing along the shore, his toes curling into the white sand of the beach, Eris could almost forget he was the heir of the Autumn Court.

[alistair-blackwood]

Jon goes on a business trip.

Chapters: 1/1 [Complete]

Words: 1,692

Tags: Established Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Long-Distance

~

Jon threw his backpack onto the hotel bed and slumped into the desk chair. It boggled him how he could even think about sitting after being trapped in an uncomfortable airplane seat for the last 12 hours, but he just didn’t have the energy to stand. 

Weak, grey lighting wormed through the ratty curtains, washing out the already muted yellow walls and doing nothing to lift the temperature of the room. The second hand of the analogue clock twitched in place.

You get what you pay for.

Martin had insisted he would stay up late waiting for Jon's call, but guilt still twisted his stomach as he dialled his number. He wished Martin would have chosen to get some sleep instead, but, then again, the thought of going another day without hearing from him didn’t feel particularly good either.

The call clicked.

“Hello? Jon?”

“Evening.”

“I believe you mean, good morning."

"Shut up."

"Where’ve you been? I’ve been waiting around for ages.”

“I told you I wouldn’t be getting in until around 7. If anything, I’m ahead of schedule.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I was just kind of hoping you were exaggerating how long it would take. You know, so if you get there a bit early, it’s like a nice little surprise.”

“Martin, if you’re expecting an airport to ever being running ahead of schedule, I’m sorry to say, you’ve already lost.”

Martin’s laugh was staticky in the receiver. “So, what’s it like? Sample any cuisines? Are the locals friendly?”

“Yes, I’ve had a bagel sandwich from a coffee shop at the airport, and the cab driver who escorted me to the hotel shouted at me.”

“What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

“Ah, well, you know, you can be a bit— And it’s not your fault! You’ve just been in a flying metal box for the last day, so it’s totally reasonable to be grumpy. But you can be a bit tetchy at times.”

Jon sighed. “I suppose I was a bit more aggressive expressing my umbrage at the way he handled my bags than was strictly necessary.”

“Jon.”

“My laptop was in there! He threw it.”

“Of course, dear.”

Jon curled up in his chair, wrapping his arm around his knees. “So, what have you been doing?”

“Oh, nothing interesting. Just rewatching old episodes of Emergency Contact. Couldn’t you have at least waited until Monday to fly across the world so we could watch the new one together? Kathy is finally going to find out what happened to her fiancé.”

“I'm sorry, eldritch fear monsters have very little respect for broadcast network scheduling.”

“Pity.”

“You don’t have to wait for me, you know.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. What’s the point of knowing some big secret if you don’t have anyone to talk to about it? And don’t just try to know it, either!”

“That would be a terrible misuse of my abilities.”

“Since when did you give a toss about that?” Martin yawned, smacking his lips gently. “Well, I guess I should let you go. You must be exhausted.”

“Not really.” Jon didn’t sleep much these days. “But you need to get up early for work, so …”

Martin hummed. The second-hand of the clock continued ticking pointlessly. A film of dust was beginning to settle on the back of Jon's throat. What a terrible hovel this place was.

“Oh, wait, before you go, I wanted to tell you, you won’t believe what Melanie found while digging around for the Davis case.”

“What is it?”

“Okay, so, you know how the guy was acting super weird and it’s, like, yeah, he definitely killed his ex-wife, right?”

“Yeah?” Jon said, pulling the thin blanket off the bed before settling back down.

“Well, guess what Melanie found in the storage closet of his mechanic’s shop?”

“Her dismembered corpse?”

“What? No, his toolbox. What’s the matter with you? You’re so morbid.”

"Oh."

“That’s a joke, I’m joking. Melanie didn’t find anything, was talking my ear off all day yesterday about it. Absolutely exhausting. I mean, I get it, Brighton isn’t exactly close, but remember when I had to go all the way to bloody Plymouth?”

Jon did, but he let Martin remind him anyway, and closed his eyes.

 Snow crunched under Jon’s feet as he limped through the street, a packet of files tucked under his arm. The custodian at the Federova Research Centre had been furious at the hour with which he asked for one of their documents, but she had quickly reconsidered when she helpfully told him about the gambling ring she was running.

He still felt terribly guilty about it, but it got a little easier every time. He didn’t know if that made it worse.

A gust of icy wind sliced through his coat, chilling his bones. His nose burned as he breathed down the arctic air. He had been entirely unprepared for this miserable weather and fantasized about his dry hotel and a cup of hot coffee.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling off his glove with his teeth, he took it out and opened the screen.

>aaahhhh!! im burning up!!! help!!!

Attached was a picture of the sun shining in the middle of a blue sky. Smiling, Jon typed a response, the tips of his fingers already uncomfortably numb.

>Be sure to wear plenty of sunblock

He angled his phone at the night sky, blanketed in thick, dreary clouds, taking a picture and sending it.

>oh, yikes. you sure im not the one on vacation?

>You know this isn’t a vacation

>yeah, going on vacation would require you taking that stick out of ur arse

> ):<

>im sorry, it’s a nice stick

>Thank you

>also why are you awake??

>Research. Need I remind you that you were the one who texted me?

>i was expecting you to see it tomorrow!! go to bed!!

>Yes, darling

A light snowfall had begun. Wild animals skittered by in the distance, dark shadows in the corner of his eyes. Tucking his phone away, he continued his trudge, the bruises on his left leg throbbing.

He’d go to bed once he got these documents sorted.

 The black ooze caught Jon’s foot and he crashed to the ground, shoulder crunching under his weight. The creature crept up to his knee, squelching as it latched onto his other leg, gelatinous and soggy. Hissing sharply through his teeth, he clawed the dirt, pulling himself forward. His foot had grown numb.

The creature had reached his waist and his fingers sluiced through the wet soil, his body too heavy to move. Pins and needles crawled up his legs before he lost feeling in them entirely. Though it had no mouth, the creature groaned, the sound of satisfaction one might make as it bit down into their meal.

He grabbed his phone before it ate his pocket and made a call. It rang.

It went to voicemail.

The desperate words died on his tongue. He shut his eyes tightly, pressing his face into the ground and breathing in the musty earth.

“Um, hello.”

A slimy tendril crawled along the back of his neck, leaving a damp trail in its wake before creeping into his hair. It would never wash out.

“Just wanted to see if you were awake. Of course, you aren’t, it’s like 4 AM. Not your fault. Nothing new on my end.” The creature squeezed, pressing his ribs against each other. “No, no, that was a lie. I’m currently being attacked by some kind of blob monster. Didn’t want to worry you, sorry. That was stupid of me.”

The scent of sweet organic fumes struck him, and he stiffened, stomach churning.

“I am trying very, very hard not to die right not, but just in case, figured, should give you a call. Seemed like the right thing to do.” He chuckled, which turned into a splutter as the thick sludge began filling his mouth and his nose. “I’m sorry.”

He ended the call, hand falling limp, still cradling his phone. It was swallowed shortly after.

 The airport was fit to burst as Jon worked his way through it, suffering bumped shoulders and crying children the whole way. The lingering smell of floor cleaner and cigarette smoke made his world spin on an axis, but he pressed on.

He was home. He was home, and he’d be in his bed within the hour. He pictured changing into his pyjamas and crawling under his cosy bedsheets, being held, as he was shoved through customs by sour faced security guards who wanted to be there even less than him and wanted him to know it.

When he reached the airport lobby, something barrelled into his chest.

“Finally,” said Martin, squeezing Jon hard enough to make his eyes pop. “You were supposed to be in two hours ago.”

“I told you it was delayed,” Jon said, resting his cheek on Martin’s shoulder. He inhaled the scent of his own lemon detergent and had a vision of Martin cycloning through their flat in a cleaning frenzy. “You said you were going to wait at home.”

“I lied and you knew it.”

“I did not."

Martin looked up, a gentle smile on his lips. It trembled, his eyes growing misty, before it cracked. “So, um, I know this is going to sound really crazy, but …”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you could just, you know, never, ever leave again? Ever?”

He looked so small and scared as he said it. Jon had done this to him. Again.

Jon pulled him back into his arms. “I can’t promise that. But it sounds nice.”

“Yeah.” Martin sniffed. “And I don’t mean just these little jaunts to the other side of the flippin’ planet where you try and get yourself killed. If you go to Tesco, I'm gonna be on your arse. Right? Got it?”

“Of course.”

“You can still go to the bathroom by yourself, that’s okay.”

“Perfectly reasonable. You're dizzying me.”

Martin pinched his arm and pressed his mouth against Jon’s, slow and hungry, before dragging them towards the exit gate.

“Come on, let’s get you in bed.”

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (15) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex)- Ortega

a/n: oh u thought the worst of the angst was over? it’s only just begun. apologies in advance hnggggggg. love is always appreciated here or over on my blog! love and hugs xxxxxxxxx

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Scarlet helped Vanessa deal with the aftermath of the breakup, aided by lecture-skipping and the prospect of a pink-haired rebound. Monet was gearing up to ask Nina to be her girlfriend in the most elaborate of ways, and Scarlet and Yvie finally said the most important three words to each other since “let’s get takeaway”.

this chapter: it’s Valentine’s Day, Brooke is a living flip flop, and something happens that nobody saw coming.

***

“Ayo. We’ve got a mouse.”

Brooke finally got her jacket off that she’d been struggling with and faced Yvie, who was lounging on the sofa in their little living room in front of the TV. “Well isn’t that a romantic Valentine’s Day greeting.”

“Well we do,” Yvie shrugged, Brooke leaving her bag on the kitchen table and joining Yvie in front of Coronation Street. “This storyline has been going for about a year, I swear to God.”

“Should you not be out doing romantic shit with Scarlet?” Brooke asked, hearing how monotone her voice was but unable to take it back now. Yvie looked across at her and raised an eyebrow.

“She’s got uni. I’m picking her up from her flat at five, we’re going for drinks and then out to the restaurant.”

“Picking her up with what, your bare hands?” Brooke let out a small laugh, Yvie chucking a couch cushion at her and snorting.

“Shut up. I’ll get an uber. I might even get an uber exec, really push the boat out,” she quipped, Brooke laughing again. As her laughter died down, Yvie tilted her head. “So what’re your plans for tonight?”

Brooke groaned and tilted her head to the ceiling. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stick on some films, eat some chocolate. Maybe skype my parents. I’ll be fine.”

“You said that twice.”

“Well I will be.”

Yvie made a click with her tongue. “And we all know the hallmark of a person who’s fine is if they have to repeat it about twenty billion times.”

“Yvie Oddly, ladies and gentlemen, queen of exaggeration,” Brooke said sarcastically, Yvie giving a sarcastic flourish of her hand right back at her. In the conversational lull, Brooke checked her phone. All over her instagram page there were couples; disgusting, happy couples who really were just making an embarrassment of themselves with their totally cringeworthy captions. “Happy Valentine’s Day to my number one” with every heart emoji under the sun, “happy vday baby i love u” beneath a picture of someone’s boyfriend pulling a silly face, and the worst, “he’s ok”, the understated caption contrasted by the horrendously soppy picture of a couple that Brooke knew from back home kissing for the camera.

Brooke had a cheek, she supposed. She’d made her bed- breaking up with Vanessa, as difficult as it was, was supposed to make her happier and make everything go back to normal. But it hadn’t. Knowing how much she’d hurt Vanessa brought no happiness to her at all, nor did it make her life any easier. Seeing her post sad, slow R&B song after sad, slow R&B song to her instagram story didn’t alleviate her guilt, nor did her radio silence on the group chat. Brooke had seen her only once since the breakup- across the square on campus when Vanessa didn’t realise Brooke could see her, flanked by Silky and Akeria, wearing baggy clothes and not a scrap of makeup, her face and eyes puffy and red. There was nothing about Brooke that was relieved; she desperately wanted to be there for Vanessa, to dry her tears and talk shit about herself. She had the deepest desire to be a friend to her through the breakup she had been the cause of, because ultimately she still cared about her. Brooke didn’t know if that was normal or not. She was past caring or trying to figure it out.

What was she going to do tonight? Yvie was out with Scarlet, Nina was at Monet’s right that minute. Plastique had told her in the library the other day that she was going for drinks with Ariel (“the most casual of drinks”, she’d said, although Brooke knew it would be anything but casual). She didn’t know what the others would be doing. Akeria would probably drag Vanessa on a night out and Silky wouldn’t need much encouragement to go either. It looked like Brooke was in for a night by herself after all.

Mid-scroll, one of the uploads caught Brooke’s eye- a photo from months back at Vanessa’s birthday night out of all eight of them together, dressed up and smiling with their arms around each other. It was only a few seconds later that Brooke realised she was smiling at it, completely unaware that her facial expression had changed. She wished they could all go back to October. She would exchange all the hurt and the guilt and the sadness that she’d caused in exchange for pining for Vanessa for the rest of her days. Her eyes drifted down to the caption, and her stomach plummeted when she realised who it was posted by.

missvanjiemissvanjie Happy Valentine’s Day to my day ones! Best bitches I could ask for in my life. Love you!! 💓

Brooke scanned the photo again. She hadn’t been cropped out, even though she was on the edge of the photo- the curse of being tall, Nina had called it. Her heart began to spring to life. This was a good sign. Vanessa clearly didn’t hate her, and somewhere deep inside her was a want to be friends again and go back to how things used to be. Injected with optimism, Brooke clicked on Vanessa’s messages. She paused for a moment, looking back at the last ones they’d sent- the day of the breakup, Brooke asking to talk, Vanessa wondering if everything was alright. It felt like a harpoon to her stomach.

Trying to stay positive, Brooke typed out a message.

B: Hey. Hope you’re doing okay. I know we said we still wanted to try and be friends so I was wondering if you wanted to maybe hang out tonight? Just as friends obviously. Since everyone else will be busy. Let me know.

Brooke’s finger hovered over the “x”. She decided against it. Hitting send, she found herself waiting anxiously for a reply.

“How do you know we have a mouse anyway?” Brooke asked Yvie, her words suddenly registering. Yvie shrugged.

“Ran across the worktop about five minutes before you came in.”

“What the hell are we going to do about it, then? I don’t want to even imagine what Nina’s reaction’s going to be if she sees it,” Brooke shuddered.

Yvie laughed. “No, Scarlet’s going to be the same. I don’t know, she looked like a nice lil’ fucker. I think we should get a cage. Put a block of cheese in it and then keep her as a pet."

Brooke felt her phone vibrate twice. Picking it up to check it and seeing that both the messages were from Vanessa, she nonchalantly carried on the conversation. "So Scarlet would be fine with that, would she?”

“Scarlet isn’t here all the time.”

“No, just 99% of it,” Brooke raised her eyebrows, opening Vanessa’s messages.

V: lmao

V: Are you on crack. You broke my heart two weeks ago and now you’re trying to be my friend already. Have you never heard of a thing called a healing process?

Brooke felt her stomach tense. She hovered her thumbs over her screen to reply, but nothing she thought of seemed to make sense or be the slightest bit appropriate. Despondent, she was about to close her phone when another message shot through.

V: And I’m busy anyway. So it still would have been a no.

Well, that was that. Vanessa was out with Silky and Akeria, and clearly she wasn’t invited. That was fine. Brooke could have kicked herself. She instantly wished she’d never been so tone-deaf. It had been a stupid suggestion. Of course Vanessa wasn’t going to be best friends with her a fortnight after they’d broken up.

Brooke couldn’t help the fact that she missed her, though. Even just as a friend.

“Hey, panini head? Are you listening to me?” Yvie suddenly yelled, her best Gordon Ramsay impersonation catching Brooke off-guard.

“What?”

“I said, would you look after Mrs Tibbs if I went home for the weekend?”

Brooke rubbed her temples in confusion. “Who’s Mrs-”

“The mouse! Jesus, Brooke, have you been on this earth for the past five minutes?” Yvie laughed, then gradually a frown spread onto her face. “What’s wrong?”

Brooke hadn’t realised she’d been showing her guilt and disappointment on her face. She sighed. “It’s nothing. I just still feel bad. About Vanessa, you know.”

Yvie furrowed her brow. “Listen, girl, I know dumping someone is hard and it’s unpleasant. Shit, I would know, I’ve had to do it enough times. But there comes a point where you’ve got to stop beating yourself up about it. I mean you ultimately did what was best for the pair of you. It wasn’t fair to string her along if you didn’t want to be with her. It hurts her now, but it’s better in the long run.”

Brooke nodded. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder…

…it didn’t matter.

Brooke’s phone vibrated again. She hoped and prayed it wasn’t another text from Vanessa to berate her for her shitty idea. What was to come would actually make her feel a hundred times worse.

Okay Then: happy valentines day fuckers!!!!!!! even though im out being soppy tonight i still want u all to know that ur my main bitches and number ones and i love u all sm 💖💖💖

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: You’re disgusting. Love you too hoe xxxxxx

Yvie’s Bitch: Awwwwwww Plastique!!!!! We love you too!!!!

Yvie’s Bitch: What’re everyone’s plans for Valentine’s Day?????

Scarlet’s Bitch: i don’t know i’ve got plans with this weird girl called……Scarface? idk i’ll probs cancel on her

Yvie’s Bitch: Suck my clit x

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag For Life: Children PLEASE

incongruous silkworm spiced praline: HAPPY INTERNATIONAL DAY OF FUCKING

incongruous silkworm spiced praline: ME N KIKI GOING OUT ON THE TOWN LOOKING FOR THIRD DIVISION FOOTBALL PLAYERS

Okay Then: oh bitch aim high? second division xo

Brooke’s heart dropped twenty storeys when she saw who was typing. Their names on the chat had been quietly changed back, but Brooke still knew who it was.

cursed SatNav voice: Happy Valentine’s Day hoes 💓💓💓

cursed SatNav voice: Even though all you couples can suck a bag of dicks

Scarlet’s bitch: gladly, bitch 💜

Okay Then: Vanj are u not going out with Silk n Kiki?? bc if not ur welcome to join me n Ariel!! it’s just casual!!

incongruous silkworm spiced praline: YES PLASTIQUE IM SURE SHED LOVE TO THIRD WHEEL U AND UR HONEYMOON PHASE FLATMATE

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: anna ou

cursed SatNav voice: 💓 That’s sweet but I’m busy tonight!! Thanks though boo

incongruous silkworm spiced praline: SHE GOT A DATE ANYWAY

Time seemed to freeze. Brooke couldn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe. All she was able to do was blink at her phone screen as the chat blew up around her. It was only after a few moments that she realised Yvie was looking at her.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Um. Yeah, no, I’m fine,” Brooke stammered, nodding and putting her phone down in a futile effort to seem relaxed. Yvie gave a laugh.

“Brooke, you can’t break up with her and then get mad she’s going on a date with someone else.”

Brooke bristled. “No, that’s not it, that’s not it at all.”

There was a small silence as Yvie typed away at her screen, her eyebrows raised in a defiant show of disbelief. In the silence, Brooke gathered her thoughts.

“I’m just kinda…I don’t know. Not hurt, but…I mean I thought she cared about me a bit more than to be over me in the space of two weeks.”

Yvie gave a gasp, clutching at her heart. “Oh! The fragile ego of Miss Brooke Lynn Hytes. The wings of a moth cannot compare, nor the web of a spider!”

“You know, you can be a really shit friend when you want to be,” Brooke spat, getting up without a second thought and storming through to her bedroom. She threw herself down on her bed and curled up into a small ball, wishing the world would give her a break.

Her ego was hurt. Her pride was battered and bruised. She supposed she’d been so used to being revered and cared for in the eyes of Vanessa that she found it odd for that to no longer be the case. Brooke sighed. Yvie was right- she wasn’t supposed to care this much, she was supposed to be happy. Fuck, shouldn’t this have been the ideal outcome? Vanessa had moved on already.

So why did Brooke feel absolutely gutted?

She sat on her bed in the cold of her room, stewing in her thoughts, trying to figure them out and failing. She didn’t know how long she’d been there for but it had clearly been enough time for Yvie to make a cup of tea, as Brooke found when her flatmate gave a gentle knock on her door and shuffled in with the Sports Direct mug in her hand.

“Hey,” Yvie began, crossing the room and putting the mug down on Brooke’s cluttered bedside table. She sighed and lay down on top of Brooke in what could have been a cuddle or an attempt at smothering her to death. “Brooky, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t. She used to call me that and…” Brooke began, sighing when she couldn’t figure out why she had an issue with it. “I don’t know.”

Brooke wrestled an arm free from under Yvie’s stomach and brought it to rest over her back. It felt more like a cuddle now.

“I knew she was going on a date, by the way. Scarlet told me the other day. I just didn’t think you’d give a fuck,” Yvie said quietly. Brooke exhaled and felt her ribcage deflate.

“I didn’t think I would either,” she said, feeling small. There was a pause. “What’s her name?”

“Monique. The girl from Monet’s party with the purple hair,” Yvie said. It felt like a stab through Brooke’s chest. She remembered Monique, she remembered the way Vanessa had laughed at her stories and the way Monique had looked at her and the obvious chemistry between them. “If it helps, Brooke, I don’t think it’s going to be anything serious. Scarlet said that apparently she literally gave Vanjie her number and was like ‘In case you ever want a rebound’. They’ve been messaging all week. Tonight’s more of a 'fuck Valentine’s Day’ drink than anything else.”

Brooke thought about Vanessa’s perfect body, about her touching Monique the way she used to touch Brooke, talking to her like she used to talk to Brooke, someone else making her come apart the way Brooke used to. Brooke rolled out from under Yvie, grabbed her pillow, and buried her face in it, letting out a long, loud groan.

“Do you feel like you fucked it?” Brooke heard Yvie’s voice ask matter-of-factly. Brooke brought the pillow off her face and whined.

“No! No, I made the right decision. I didn’t want to be Vanessa’s girlfriend. It’s just fucking…weird. It doesn’t exactly fill me with glee thinking of her with somebody else, you know?”

Yvie smirked. “Because you know Monique’s going to fuck her better?”

Brooke launched the pillow at her flatmate, Yvie giggling. “Sorry! Sorry! Fuck, okay, point taken. Inappropriate.”

There was a silence. Yvie’s joke still hung in the air.

“Well, as long as you feel like your decision was correct,” Yvie smiled gently, patting Brooke’s thigh. “Then that’s the main thing. And it’s natural to get a little jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Sure, Jan,” Yvie raised her eyebrows and began to slide off Brooke’s bed. “Look, I’ve got to go get ready for dinner. You sure you’ll be fine?”

“Well I said it about twenty billion times, remember?” Brooke deadpanned, earning her a laugh from Yvie. “Just go. Go have fun. Have the best night, baby. You two deserve it.”

Yvie leant down and gave Brooke one last little squeeze before leaving her bedroom and going back into her own. Now she was alone with her thoughts Brooke wanted desperately to silence them so she grabbed her laptop and shoved on the least romantic film she could think of- Kingsman. As she sipped her tea and watched a man get completely sliced in half from skull to anus, she thought that would only be slightly less painful than what her emotions were currently putting her through.

As Taron Egerton refused to kill his dog, Yvie shouted a goodbye to Brooke.

As Colin Firth went absolutely mental in a church and killed everybody single-handedly, Brooke grabbed her phone and deleted all of her messages with Vanessa.

As the end credits rolled, Brooke wondered what the fuck she’d done. Two and a half years of friendship gone and deleted in the blink of an eye. But maybe it was for the best.

Brooke had been scrolling Netflix searching for something else to watch for what could have been an entire hour when she heard four things in rapid succession- the heavy bang of the front door, a scurry of hurried footsteps across the hall, the bang of Nina’s fire door and then a rapid sobbing that poured out of whoever was in the room and through Brooke’s wall. Brooke’s previously lethargic body sprang to life and she shot off her bed, took three quick steps to her door and hurried out into the hallway where she knocked on Nina’s.

“Nina? What’s happened?”

The sobbing continued from inside, Brooke unsure if the girl had even heard anything. Hesitantly, she pushed on the door.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

With no response other than more sobbing and a snuffle, Brooke entered Nina’s room. There was her usual organised dressing table with her makeup strewn all over it, indicative of a rushed getting-ready process. On her usually tidy floor was a mess of tried-on-and-rejected clothes, and there on the Aristocats-patterned duvet curled up with her stuffed teddy was Nina, absolutely crying her eyes out. Brooke practically vaulted the end of her bed to get to her flatmate who was squashed in between her pillows and the wall in the foetal position.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s wrong?” Brooke asked her, pulling her close and wrapping her arms around her. Nina batted her away weakly.

“Don’t, Brooke, don’t, fuck, getting held is just going to remind me of her and I don’t-” Nina descended into another burst of sobs, Brooke completely and utterly confused.

“Monet? I thought you guys were fine? Oh my God, Nina, she didn’t break up with you?!” Brooke asked, scared and trying to fight the sinking feeling taking root in her chest. Nina elegantly wiped her nose on her teddy and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, rubbing harshly and leaving her looking like a human panda.

“She didn’t break up with me,” Nina sniffed, finally seeming to calm down.

“Oh, thank fuck.”

“I broke up with her.”

This was at least twenty times worse than what Brooke had feared. Pulling away, she fixed Nina with a look of complete incredulity. “You did what?!”

Nina rubbed at her eyes again, this time with her fingers. “Yeah, because obviously I can’t have anything fucking half-decent in my life without completely sabotaging it or making it go to shit, can I? I broke up with her, I’m a fucking idiot. Happy?”

Brooke could only blink in response as Nina leaned back and let her head hit the pillow, her stare boring into the ceiling. Her thoughts were all colliding. This was the most sudden and unexpected event, and it had completely knocked her for six. “Rewind. I thought you and Monet were fine?”

“We were fine,” Nina sighed so deeply that Brooke wasn’t sure she would have any air left in her lungs. “I was so fucking happy, Jesus. But there’s always a catch, right? Nobody can stay that happy forever, it’s always got to come to an end at some point.”

She stopped and sat up, propping her head against the headboard. Not looking Brooke in the eye, Nina continued. “She started being really distant with me. Not replying to texts for ages, being really deep in thought when we were together. I’d ask her what was wrong, but…she’d just always say nothing was. I was over at her flat the other night, we’d had a nap together and I woke up and she wasn’t there. I went into her living room and she was there with two of her flatmates. They stopped talking the second I got in, honestly I might as well have caught them all in the middle of a massive fucking orgy,” Nina laughed humourlessly. “And then it clicked. It all started after I told Monet about you and Vanessa. Nothing bad…just about how you weren’t sure, and how it’s better to just break up with somebody if you’re having second thoughts about them. It all made sense. Her being distant, always seeming off, obviously talking to her flatmates about it and having to stop because I came in. She didn’t fucking want me anymore, Brooke.”

Shocked, Brooke could only put her arms around her friend as she leaned into her chest and began to cry again. Nothing about it seemed to fit. Monet was absolutely head over heels for Nina, anyone could have seen it. It all seemed so out of the blue and sudden. Brooke tried to think about the last time Monet had been over at the flat. It had been about a week ago and Monet had seemed fine- although, now that Brooke thought about it, Monet had seemed a little quiet. Almost nervous, Brooke considered. But she was still cuddling Nina and giving her small kisses and paying her attention. It didn’t make any sense. Brooke frowned. “Nina, are you sure she actually wanted to break up with you?”

“I wondered it too. Because I didn’t want to believe it, of course. But then yesterday we were just lying in bed doing nothing. She was on her phone and my head was on her chest. I saw what was on her screen just for a second and she’d fucking-” Nina sighed, cutting herself off. “- typed this guy’s name into Google. Obviously some guy she’s met and she’s trying to find him on social media. I actually felt like I’d been stabbed, Brooke. Obviously she saw me, because she only got as far as the first name and then closed her phone. But I know what I saw, you know?”

Brooke’s frown only got deeper. “But that makes no sense. Why would she look someone up on Google, what is this, the fucking 90’s?”

“Brooke, you weren’t there. You should have seen how quickly she shut her phone off, and she was instantly all over me and telling me how lucky she was and-” Nina’s speech was interrupted by a bubble of a sob. “Oh fuck, it hurt so much. And today she woke up with me and was all "Happy Valentine’s Day!” and all that shit. I couldn’t do it, Brooke. I couldn’t make myself look like an idiot any longer. I suggested going for coffee and while we were out I just…I just fucking did it. Oh my God, it was so so bad, Brooke. She looked so fucking destroyed and she was so pissed off with me that I thought it was all a mistake but…fuck, I didn’t know what to believe. I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’ve done.“

Brooke sighed, desperately not wanting to believe it was over between the two girls. "But didn’t she explain herself? I mean what did you actually say to her? Did you confront her?”

“Jesus, no! No, I didn’t want to make it look like I was this poor, lovesick, pining idiot who was making a fool of herself over her! I jumped before I was pushed. I pretended I was the one whose feelings had changed, that it wasn’t working for me anymore. It was all a crock of shit, but she obviously believed it.”

Brooke bit the skin at the side of her thumb. There was a silence. “But didn’t she try to make you stay? Didn’t she fight for you?”

“She-” Nina cut herself off. Brooke looked down and saw tears pouring down her face, and her heart broke. “- she just sat and looked at me. Something in her eyes just…shut down. They just went all glassy, like those black marbles you got as a kid, remember? Anyway I said my piece and she just…ugh, she just nodded. She just nodded and went "Right. Got it.” in the most cold voice and then she got up, put on her coat and left. And I let her.“

With that, Nina swept her hands under her eyes and heaved a gut-wrenching shudder of a sigh. Brooke was at a loss of what to say. She had thought Nina and Monet were made for each other, and the fact that Nina had thrown it away for the sake of what Brooke was sure had to be a misunderstanding was gutting. She heaved a similar sigh to Nina’s.

"Look at us. It’s Valentine’s Day, we’re both single, we’re both here regretting breaking up with someone-”

“Wait what?” Nina asked suddenly, eyeing Brooke with suspicion. It was only then that Brooke had realised what she’d said. Startled, she backtracked.

“Well, I mean, not regretting breaking up with her, just regretting causing her hurt,” she said, Nina nodding quietly. Although Brooke was still spooked. Why had that thought popped into her head, let alone out of her mouth? She didn’t regret breaking up with Vanessa. It was the ick, just like Plastique had said. She had changed her mind. She couldn’t exactly change it back.

Could she?

“Why don’t we watch a film? I’ll bring my laptop through, get snacks from the kitchen. You don’t even need to move from this room. Or this bed,” Brooke suggested, ignoring the dangerous thoughts swirling round her mind. Nina gave a sniff and a silent nod.

“21 Jump Street?” she offered hopefully, Brooke unable to help the small laugh that escaped her mouth at the suggestion.

“This from the queen of Disney?”

“Disney’s too happy for me right now,” Nina moped, wiggling underneath her duvet cover. Brooke screwed up her face.

“Too happy? C’mon, you’ve seen Bambi. And Lion King. And Big Hero 6. And-”

“Brooke I swear to God if you don’t go get your laptop and stick on 21 Jump Street,” Nina warned, not finishing the empty threat. Laughing, Brooke did as she was told. She could only hope that the film would be enough of a distraction to her and to Nina for the next two hours.

She had no idea what they’d do once those two hours were up.

[brightsun-and-darkmidnight]

Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

TITLE: Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 27/ ?

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-dark midnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki falling in love with a Midgardian and his words to Thor about Jane during Dark World coming back to haunt him. “It would be a heartbeat. You would never be ready.”

RATING:  M for Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: ~▪︎~FOR THE WHOLE STORY~▪︎~

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Check Masterlist. It's going to be a long read. I try to keep each chapter around 3,000 words.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

!-!TRIGGER WARNING(S)!-!

So many triggers, read ALL of them!

Swearing. Angst. Death. Depression. Violence. Self-harm. Regret. Carelessness for safety. Doubts. Torture. NSFW. Smut. Fluff. And Of Course- Mischief.

Summary: More training and Alicia's birthday 

 ~ ~ ENJOY  ~ ~

They found a base that had some information. Alicia had to use her enhanced strength and speed, her shield, and healing. Alicia was fighting an Asgardian Male and knew she had to finish this quickly but she just...couldn't. Alicia tried to go for a hit to his head but he grabbed her wrist, twisted, and gave a quick punch to the back of her ribs. She cried out and forced her shield out to push him away. She stumbled and she threw a blast of magic to his head. The man's body crumpled in a sickening way.

Alicia felt the nausea wash over her as the man laid lifeless.

Alicia was grabbed and swung through the air. Familiar red and blue suit, Peter's voice was rushed, "Peacekeeper you need to watch out. You almost got shot."

Alicia thanked him as he set her down. Alicia put a shield up to push a person down and Peter tied them with a shot of web. Alicia wished she had something like that. A comfortable restraint instead of her knockout tactics. She watched as Loki effortlessly finished three people without even faltering. Everyone was able to kill so easily. Steve tried to use knockout as well but if it didn't work he was able to just finish the job. Peter didn't kill because he didn't need to.

It seemed as if more people poured into the room and Steve ordered for the team to exit and to get Alicia out.

Alicia was swung down by Peter to the exit they were all going for.

Once at a safe base Steve went over the information they obtained.

Luit and Edward were at the last location. They move every week to new locations. There were always people at 3 buildings, about a mile from each other. In summary, those bases would be checked thoroughly.

Though nothing is known of Marcus.

Alicia went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea in an attempt at distracting herself. She missed taking care of herself. Something as simple as this made her happy now. She felt Loki place his hand on her back and kiss her head.

"It has been a long time since I have seen you do something like this."

Alicia sighed, "yeah… It has been a while… Would you like some?" 

Loki took the mug, forcing Alicia to laugh at his exaggerated humm of approval. Loki swore if she ever wanted to make tea she should, the servers just don't get it right. Alicia told him it was because she loved him the most and love was her number one ingredient. After making more tea for both of them they went over the mission privately.

"If you knew how to cloak yourself better and could do illusion, you could distract and knock out that way."

Alicia scoffed, "Emma just wants me to go for the kill…"

"I do too. However I am aware you refuse to do so. I want to make you as safe as possible."

Alicia felt her hand covered by his and returned the little squeeze. After they finished their teas Loki pulled her to a training room. He explained she needed to be fully aware of the thing she wants to show. To visualize the item from all sides and make sure nothing is flat. They started with just a piece of paper. Several hours of practice she got it. Then Loki found a box.

"Make sure nothing is flat, the box has larger dimensions than the paper."

Alicia concentrated harder and harder with each passing hour.

"You're not doing to well."

Alicia's concentration broke and the illusion disappeared in an explosion of white. "Natasha! You sneaky creep!"

Natasha rose an eyebrow, "that's the best you can do?"

With a glare turned smile Alicia replied, "What? Do you want me to outright call you a bitch? That's not insulting to most people. "

Natash shifted her weight to one leg. "So you going to go around stabbing people with illusions now?"

Alicia quickly explained, "What? -No. It's so I can distract and knock out."

Alicia saw Natasha's eyes go to Loki, "that's a much better way to use that spell."

Loki leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "the word "spell" instead of trick?"

Natasha shrugged, "I decided to make peace."

Alicia snickered, "because magic saved you before."

Natasha shrugged, "At this point… I believe anything is possible. Aliens. Magic. Tony changing a bit with a kid on the way." Natasha gestured to Alicia, "You have a future with a child?"

Alicia smiled at the floor, "I know. I never thought it would happen."

Loki confirmed, "You always desired it from a young age."

Alicia rolled her eyes once she realized he voiced information from her mind being linked to him during the telepathy training, "I guess." 

Natasha announced, "dinner is done. I will have your vegetables raw." She smirked.

Alicia accused, "that's a rabbit reference."

Natasha turned with a smirk, "just don't get caught."

The door shut and Loki muttered, "it might be a fantasy of yours."

Alicia glared at him. "Don't. Mind reader."

Loki gave a coy smile, "Honestly, it has given me a whole list of things you need...want..desire."

Alicia turned and went to the door but pulled him along. "Let's go eat. I'm getting moody." With a mutter, "you aren't helping much either."

Loki walked a little in front to see her face but she kept her eyes straight.

"Did I upset you?"

Alicia stopped once they were alone. She sighed as she crossed her arms in anger but with a glance she knew by the look on his face he was worried. Her hands held herself in a way to comfort and shield herself. 

"It's just… odd. For someone to know everything." Her eyesight clouded with tears as she looked away. "It made me feel vulnerable. I have never -no.-I said it a handful of times when I was younger that I REALLY wanted a family. As I grew older the reality set in that the target on my head would be passed down."

Loki encased her in his arms, "Alicia we get them -and you do have a child. We start a family. There is no need to worry."

Her voice broke, "But when?"

His hand pressed her head to his body, "It will happen."

Alicia was doing her best to not make audible sounds and to stop the shaking of her shoulders from silent cries. Her wrist burned with a flare of desire to slice it again. She held onto her wrist tightly and Loki pulled her to the side of the hallway.

"Shh.. It is alright. I have you."

Alicia was set down on his lap as he combed through her hair. He slightly rocked her and planted kisses along her head. While it was comforting, Alicia knew what she needed.

Alicia's voice was squeaky and forced around quiet sobs, "I need… Emma.."

"FRIDAY. Notify Emma of our location and have her sent here. Alicia requested her."

The AI responded shortly, "she is on the way."

Alicia let Loki rock her and comb her hair. She admired his efforts but it was not what she needed in this moment. She hoped Emma would allow Loki to watch, but Alicia flinched at what she did to satisfy the burn… Loki had to already know.

Emma arrived with running footsteps. Alicia's tears poured out and the grip on her wrist tightened with the burn under her scar. Emma's lips pursed together and eased Alicia to her feet. Emma received ice from a nearby break room then they went to a small meeting room. 

Alica did not know if she liked that Loki was silent. His eyes stared at the ice in Emma's hand in question with furrowed eyebrows. Emma set the cup of ice on the table and Alicia tentatively grabbed a cube. Loki would figure it out. She rubbed the cold lifesaver along the burning scar. It cooled slightly but not satisfying everything. Alicia kept the action up until the numbing sting satisfied most of the desires. She kept rubbing the skin with single strokes of the ice cube. Her nails grazed the scar and she tried to choke back the cry of frustration.

Emma questioned with a hushed tone but Alicia heard the words loud and clear, "You talked about Marcus, or the timeline of visions?"

Loki's rough voice made Alicia flinch, "Timeline."

Emma's authoritative teaching voice was stern, "The whole "when" thing of her visions is a trigger."

Alicia held out her wrist to Emma in a silent request. Emma's seder calmed the rest of the desires. The chilled area with Emma's warm seder gave the feeling of the numb burn and sting. It was highly uncomfortable, painful, but Alicia held her wrist still for a few seconds before moving with a hiss of pain. 

Emma gestured towards Alicia, "I found this helps get a similar sensation to cutting. The ice does a wonderful job by itself but with a little warmth really gives it the sting and burning similar to self-harm. Warm water works too."

Alicia watched as Loki's eyebrows knitted together and his mouth opened slowly. Alicia could not meet his eyes and had to look away when he spoke, "How did you find that out?"

Emma shrugged nonchalantly, "Internet. Midgard has wonderful ways of storing information. I am trying to get the elders to update everything into something OTHER than books. It would be much easier to spread knowledge.. even easier to find."

Alicia seen movement and glanced. Her body no longer wished for the spill of blood and her wrist was calmer. Alicia sniffled, "Im ok."

Loki's fingers combed through her hair, "Alicia… You know I am here for you?"

"Yeah… I just didn't want you to know I am weak."

"You are not… I just wish you didn't hide this from me."

Alicia spoke quickly in an attempt to calm him. "It's just since the vision of Marcus being taken… So it is not EVERY time.. I cope though-with reading, training, this…" Alicia laughed nervously, "maybe this isn't the best."

Emma stared at Alicia with a gentle voice but stern undertone, "You do not shed more blood. We have discussed further self injuries would make the desire flare frequently and have a stronger hold over you." Emma offered a small smile with a small cough. "I have notes for you Loki. I will make a copy."

After dinner Loki and Emma discussed Anxiety and Depression.

Emma explained, as she pointed at various articles she collected from internet searches, "Get her to focus on you -make wild faces, gestures and comments. Basically, distract her from the trigger. If that doesn't work, it is best to get her to breathe with counts of 5, then 8 seconds. She has a schedule that she is still trying to stay on. If her mind is occupied not much she can think of otherwise."

Loki questioned quickly, "What is it?"

Emma flipped to the back of her binder, "its typical; meals with special beverages, training and hygiene. Personal time and sleeping. Everything has a time requirement for the day, roughly based off of needs of that day. I read a schedule helps with a TON of mental illnesses."

Loki seemed to be studying the schedule so Emma went into a little more detail. Alicia observed from the chair across from them. She was aware of the discussion that was for her own good, but it made her stomach turn and chest constrict. It was uncomfortable for Loki to know of her issues other than Emma. Emma was a great healer, though embarrassingly she had knowledge on everything about Alicia.

Emma spoke as she gathered things for Loki, "You are aware how to help properly now, so put these skills and information to use." Emma glanced at Alicia, "you holding up okay?"

Her voice cracked, "Yeah."

Emma nodded as she explained grounding for Anxiety while showing Loki through an example. Alicia was asked to say 5 things she could see, 4 things she could hear, 3 things she felt, two scents, and one taste.

Emma plucked a mint from the bowl, "taste this. I don't want to hear about the smoothie again."

Alicia laughed briefly as the first flavor of mint empowered her mouth. "I hate those stupid things." Alicia quickly wiped a stray tear with a smile towards Emma.

Emma crossed her arms with a huff, "Just taste the mint and shut your mouth."

Alicia grinned, "Will do boss."

Loki muttered, "and the bickering resumes."

Alicia muffled a laugh at Emma telling him to shut his mouth and threw a mint at him.

After a few days, Alicia was grateful Loki knew now. He was amazing at change the subject when in conversations with the team. He tried to help her through episodes without the ice treatment but Emma would be present for those moments when her scar burned. Each day seemed to get better but with Emma and Loki teamed to be the boss of her days. Loki could help her better, but damn him for keeping her on a schedule. It was near close to the requirement for each daily need, especially sleep.

Over the next week they went on more missions. Everyone swore the group was getting more sloppy because they moved about every few days. Alicia noticed Loki was silent during those talks among the group even though at the first meeting he was so persistent. Alicia asked Loki his thoughts once they were alone.

"I'm not entirely sure if they are being sloppy… I actually doubt it. They only started getting careless after you started to attend missions."

Alicia's eyebrows furrowed, "You think they are doing this on purpose?"

Alicia held his hand as he sighed. Loki's voice was rough as he stated, "The future has already been laid out ahead of us." Loki embraced her in a tight hug. "Lets not think about it.. Today is your birthday."

Alicia smiled at him, "I imagine your favorite game will be played? Get practice for the far off future. Our little bundle of joy."

Loki hummed and kissed her head as he ran his fingers through her hair. "I wonder what it is going to be."

"Healthy and happy."

"Sounds good. Go get ready. I have a lot planned for you today."

Alicia rolled her eyes, "I only wanted dinner at our house."

Loki shooed her to her room.

With a long sleeved, knee length dress, and boots, Alicia was insistent with her hair being down. However, her hair was not cooperating due to her hair constantly being tied up from training and missions. She tried curling, straightening, and making it wavy. Alicia was about to just pull her hair OUT at the fifth attempt.

Emma knocked on the door, "Your prince awaits…"

Alicia rolled her eyes with a smile, "he is going to have to wait because my hair is not going right today. I have no idea what he has planned but it is probably in public."

"Probably. You haven't made a public appearance, in a long time well, as far as a date goes." Emma went behind Alicia and helped with the stubborn hair. "We should just put it up. It is being very stubborn today." Emma tried to hide her laugh, "its probably all of the missions you've been going on.. last night was a little intense."

Alicia saw her eyes widen in the mirror then put her head down without hindering Emma in fixing her hair.

"Loki never ties to cover it up."

Alicia muttered, "I figured…"

With a few more movements and pins Emma announced, "Ok. Done."

Alicia examined her hair and it was much better than what she was trying to do. "Thank you Emma. You do so much for me."

"Thank you number two." Emma smirked in the mirror, "You told me I wouldn't get another."

Alicia muttered, "I said probably." She stood then went to the door as Emma was ready to open it. Alicia sighed, "I still don't like not being able to do anything."

Emma snicked and curtsied, "get used to it Princesses."

Alicia sent a glare as Emma presented her to Loki with a slow opening of the door.

He grinned and claimed she was perfect for today. Alicia tried to question what they were doing today but he took her towards the garage to leave. 

"What do you have planned?" Alicia waited in silence before whining, "Loki. Tell me."

"We are going to get something to eat before getting on the plane. Our house takes a while to get to."

"Yeah I know that Loki. Are we going in front of the public?"

"Well… I wanted to show you off."

Alicia felt his hand on her left hand, playing with the ring. "Showing your claim on me?"

"It will get Midgardians to stop pursuing you."

Alicia traced his hand with fingers of her right hand, "I hate to say this… but that does not stop everyone. However, that does not matter because I have sworn myself to you."

When they got to a restaurant Alicia waited for Loki to open her door. Loki offered his arm and she held it at the elbow the other displaying her engagement ring. Of Course she was questioned about the ring and everyone knew they were both excited. People wished her happy birthday and wished them well with a happy future. She waved at everyone as Loki lead her into the building. She noticed the huge smile he tried to keep hidden.

"Are you proud? Everyone has seen your ring."

Loki pecked her lips quickly, "very."

There was a stage in this restaurant and the show was a series of songs… then Loki had to be a cheesy bastard and requested the birthday song for more embarrassment. Alicia did not understand the menu but Loki ordered enough for her to try, but not enough to spoil their appetites for dinner at their house.

Finally, Loki took Alicia to their house, her favorite meals were served and she ate more than enough.

[taexual]

HOLIC - 6 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: minimal mentions of suggestive themes

words: 1.8k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

          prev / next

As the doorbell rang for the second time – someone was evidently very eager to be let in – you proceeded to give in to the fright. You weren’t freaking out just because no one aside from Jaebum – who watched you with confused eyes – knew where you lived yet, but also because whoever was behind that door was bound to get the wrong idea after they saw you and Jaebum half-naked, both wearing towels.

Inhaling deeply, you headed for the door, glancing through the peephole.

“Who is it?” Jaebum whisper-yelled, approaching you from behind and squatting slightly as if someone could have seen him.

“I don’t know,” you said, squinting to make out the person behind the door. “Looks like a girl.”

“A girl?” Jaebum straightened and you turned around, slightly alarmed by the sudden panic in his voice. “What does she look like?”

“I have no idea,” you turned back around to check the person out again. They pressed the doorbell again and you flinched. “Jesus, can she wait for just one minute? I can’t see anything properly.”

Jaebum looked pale. Not just his face, but his whole body seemed to lose color and you were very confused as you watched him take a long, deep breath and then walk past you towards the door.

“Go,” he told you. “Stay in your room, okay? I’ll take care of this.”

You frowned, unsure what was there to take care of, but you complied nevertheless, hoping to avoid any uncomfortable explaining because of both of your lack of proper clothing if Jaebum actually knew the girl behind the door. And he sure looked like he did, judging from how terrified he became just at the thought of opening the door to her.

Trying to tame your curiosity – you couldn’t remember him mention any sort of problematic partners that he could have been avoiding, – you entered your room, closing the door and immediately leaning against it, because the taming didn’t really work. You wanted to know who the girl was and what was her relationship with your roommate.

You couldn’t help but eavesdrop just a little bit.

You heard Jaebum open the door and then silence followed. You suddenly found a reason that justified listening to them: if they got into a fight, you’d have to go out there and separate them before they started to throw pieces of furniture; not that you had many of those yet.

“Uh, can I help you?” Jaebum asked.

The surprise in his voice suggested that he didn’t actually know the girl behind the door, after all.

“No, um, I’m just—” you heard the girl start to speak. She didn’t just sound slightly awkward, she also seemed to be just as shocked. You didn’t blame her, Jaebum had opened the door to her in only a towel. That had to be a sight to behold. “I’m Lily. I live on this floor and I just saw you move in, so I thought I’d stop by and bring this.”

She must have been the girl you’ve caught staring at you a few nights ago, when you and Jaebum had ordered the furniture to be delivered. She did seem to be really curious about you two, but as you listened to her sweet voice through the door, you figured it wasn’t really you she was interested in.

“Cupcakes,” Jaebum commented, probably in regards to the welcome gift Lily, the neighbor, had brought. “Well, thank you very much. That’s very kind of you. Would you like to—”

You pulled away from the door. Now that you’d learned he didn’t really know the girl, after all, you didn’t have any more reasons to listen to them and, truth be told, you weren’t all that curious to hear their conversation anymore, either. You were still, however, wondering why Jaebum looked like he’d seen a ghost when you mentioned a girl standing behind your door.

Knowing very well how ridiculous and – probably – far-fetched this thought was, you debated if, perhaps, Jaebum had a secret wife he’d married and was now running from by living in inconspicuous apartments. That’d have explained why he was so opposed to the thought of the two of you living together. Then again, you weren’t exactly excited about the prospect of that, either, so maybe Jaebum’s weird reaction and his general rude behavior towards you were unrelated to his past relationships. Besides, if he had a wife, would he have still slept with you a few nights ago?

Despite all of these doubts and explanations you came up with in your mind, you still wanted to find out who was it really that Jaebum had so dreaded to see.

As you locked your bedroom and headed to find an outfit in one of the boxes you still haven’t unpacked, you could still hear Jaebum and Lily talk inside of the apartment. He had invited her in and taken her to the kitchen – which was literally right outside of your bedroom – so you had no trouble hearing what they were talking about and, really, you’d have rather not.

“Have you lived here for a long time?” you heard Jaebum ask her.

“Not really, I actually moved in a few months ago myself,” Lily replied.

“Wow, really?” Jaebum asked in a very exaggerated voice. He was clearly trying to suck up to her and, based on the way you heard her giggle, it was working. “I should be bringing you a welcome gift as well then, shouldn’t I?”

You found yourself groaning. He was absolutely hitting on her.

“Oh, no, there’s no need,” Lily told him. “No one welcomed me to the building, though. I guess I just wanted to be one of the few pleasant neighbors on this floor.”

And she was encouraging him, too!

Grabbing your hairdryer from one of the boxes, you plugged it in. Not only did you need to dry your hair, but the loud whirring sound was also going to ensure you didn’t hear any of Jaebum’s flirting outside of your room. You didn’t really mind that he was hitting on your neighbor – at least, you thought you didn’t – but you still felt irritated. Maybe it was the frustration caused by the lack of hot water that escalated when paired up with the realization that if Jaebum ended up having a one-night-stand with an actually pleasant-seeming neighbor, you’d end up truly avoiding her for the rest of your life. And – aside from her weird staring when you first saw her – Lily really did seem nice.

Somehow, you hated admitting that, so, choosing to focus your mind on something else instead, you turned the hairdryer on to finally tune out every other sound in the apartment.

You heard the door of the apartment close about three seconds after you finished drying your hair and changed into actual clothes. This perfect timing allowed you to open the room just when Jaebum stopped outside of your door with a huge grin on his face.

“What?” you fired immediately, not too thrilled to see him look so happy after meeting your neighbor.

“I got her number,” Jaebum declared proudly, raising his phone for you to look.

“Congratulations,” you replied dryly, not even attempting to look for reasons why he felt the need to gloat about this. “Don’t you have to go to work?”

A little confused why you’d bring that up, Jaebum waved his hand, dismissing it.

“Work starts after lunch, there’s plenty of time to prepare for that,” he said. “I’ll be home late today, by the way. Got that date tonight.”

Suddenly, you didn’t like Lily particularly much anymore. You’d analyze why that was later. Right now you needed to go out and meet up with your friend May. Her offer to get drunk on Monday was starting to sound better with each passing second.

“Fantastic,” you said, your voice still lacking emotion. “Get the hot water fixed while I’m out.”

“Oh, but you said it yourself, I have to go to work,” Jaebum replied, opening the door of his room. “And then I have a date to prepare for.”

He got the weirdest grin on his face whenever he mentioned that date, almost as if he was only bringing it up to show off. Maybe not to you, specifically, but just in general.

You were suddenly reminded of his weird reaction about there being a girl behind the door. Maybe he was only excited about this whole ordeal because he hadn’t seen the person he was dreading to see when he opened the door.

“Why are you so happy about this?” you chose to ask him outright instead of just speculating. “It’s just a date. You can’t be that excited only because you’re probably getting laid.”

He laughed and then expertly avoided your question by replying, “probably is not a word in my vocabulary.”

“Right,” you groaned. “Whatever. I’m leaving. Fix the hot water before you go to work or else.”

“Oh, you like me too much to threaten me properly,” Jaebum teased and his smile frustrated you even more. “That’s cute.”

Not saying anything else – because now was the time to start throwing punches, instead of words, – you walked out of the apartment, looking around the hall to see if you’d run into Lily – you didn’t – and then locking the door before heading towards the staircase.

As you climbed down, after having finally escaped Jaebum, you had to admit to yourself that there was a small part of you that was jealous. You were just going out to hang out with your friend, maybe get some drinks, but Jaebum was going on a date.

Your mind had really created two different images for Jaebum; there was Def – the sweet, future roommate – and there was Jaebum – the rude current roommate who broke your bed and turned the hot water off just to spite you – and so, because of this, you weren’t jealous of Lily. You’d convinced yourself it’d be awful to endure a whole date with Jaebum, even though the rational part of your brain was able to tell that, actually, he wasn’t that bad. If anything, he was a great conversationalist who had a lot in common with you.

But you didn’t want to go on a date with him. No way. You were just jealous of the simple fact that he had someone to go on a date with – while you didn’t –  and he wasn’t shy to gloat about it. That was all there was.

           chapter directory

[osmw1]

Head Over Heels from the Scarf I Lent Her  Chapter 5—The Warm Sun, and Lunch

“So? What happened afterwards?” “What are you on about all of a sudden?”

Ōyodo Jun—my classmate who sits in front of me—leans his arm on the back of his chair and turns to me. It isn’t unusual for Jun to start rambling about something incomprehensible, but it sounds awfully as if he’s talking about Satsuki. She’s a total lifesaver for cleaning Tooru’s room. Jun lets out a dirty smirk and looks at Tooru.

“Something had to had happened, right? She’s totally fallen for you.” “What, do you think I’ve got the balls to do anything to a girl as cute as her?” “… you’re being serious. Well, I guess not.”

For some reason, Jun dejectedly pouts as he shifts his arm from the seatback to Tooru’s desk.

“What a letdown, man. You gotta get better stories to tell.” “Why do I have to make sacrifices just to amuse you?” “That’s the way how things work. Hurry up and get a girl.” “Ow, cut it out.”

Tooru pushes Jun away, who was smacking him on his head, and then places his elbows on his desk too.

“First of all, you don’t have a girlfriend either. You better check yourself first.” “Gah! Straight through the heart! You don’t mince words, do you?”

Ignoring his exaggerated reaction, Tooru instead overhears the conversation of another group.

“Didja hear about Miyamoto Amane’s little sister?” “Yeah, dude. They she’s a total babe, unlike Amane. Go hit her up.” “You crazy? I’m not about to poke the bear, thank you very much.”

Already famous on the second day of school, eh? Well, she was well-known to begin with anyway, so no surprise there. Seems like everyone is so scared of Amane that no one is willing to get close to Satsuki. That was Tooru’s plan too, but somehow things ended up this way.

Luckily, Amane is another class so Tooru hasn’t got mixed up in her business at all. Unlike Satsuki, there’s not much noteworthy about how Amane looks, save for her chest. She’s probably number one in school in that aspect. It’s a mystery what she thinks about her younger sister, but Tooru isn’t about to march up to her and ask. And why does Satsuki look so down as well? It’s gotta have something to do with her family, but she didn’t seem like she wanted to talk about it. As he’s just her acquaintance, Tooru can only remain an outsider—whether for her sake or his own. Seems like Jun has overheard the other group too. Still sitting backwards on his chair, he faces Tooru.

“Must be tough then.” “It’s not too bad. We’re gonna be going home separately.” “Huh? You two are planning to meet every day?” “Ah…”

Tooru had dug his own grave and Jun has a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You’ve finally showed your true colors.” “It’s not like I’ve done any—” “Shut up! And treat me to something with your paycheck!” “What?! Why do I have to?!”

Tooru dodges Jun’s attacks and then sits back, spacing out. Satsuki’s face pops into his mind. They’re friends or something or other now, right? She’s not alone anymore like that winter day, right? His daydreams are cut short by the bell.

  Tooru always eats lunch at the same place—a sunny spot behind the school. It’s his daily routine to sit on the concrete outside of an unused classroom on the first floor. And of course, if it’s raining or snowing, he’d eat lunch inside instead.

But today, the warm spring air lulls the sandman. To have lunch while basking in the sun was Tooru’s thing and this is his place. Or was. He spots a familiar figure and waves.

“Hey, Miyamoto. Fancy meeting you here.” “Wha—?!”

Satsuki was sitting there about to open her lunch box. Her face is bright red like she was taken by complete surprise. After making sure not a single other soul was around, Tooru sits down next to Satsuki, leaving but a little room between them. On the other hand, perhaps still surprised, her face was still flushed red.

Sitting side by side again, Satsuki is small. She’s probably not even 160 cm tall. On the other hand, Tooru passed the 180 cm mark already. Sure, the average height of high schoolers is going higher and higher, but Tooru himself didn’t even think he’d grow this much.

That’s why it was natural for him to be able to look at what she has for lunch. Wieners cut into the shape of octopuses, omelette, and veggie stir-fry with a small portion of white rice. You could even say that this is the traditional Japanese packed lunch. On the other hand, Tooru’s lunch was fried chicken from the freezer section and rice. He had just had an earful from Jun, saying how he’s soon going to get fat. So, Tooru retaliated with a punch.

“Your lunch sure looks good.” “Oh, you think so?” “I’ve only got some previously-frozen chicken and rice. Probably isn’t doing my body any good.” “That’s true…”

Though he would’ve preferred her saying otherwise, Tooru relaxed after seeing Satsuki strain a laugh. He’s not sure what to make of it, but Satsuki suddenly waving her hands around.

“Umm, I would still like you even if you get a little chubbier too, though!” “Et tu, Satsuki?”

Tooru was at a loss as he opened his lunch box. Is that my future? I’m destined to be overweight? But even then, he’s busy in the morning getting ready for school and busy at night studying. He just wants to keep his grades up is all.

Still, how scary it would be to get fat before graduating. Like, actually. Not wanting him to feel down, the seemingly flustered Satsuki gives him a little fist pump.

“It’s okay. If you’re worried about it, then I’ll help you out!”

Satsuki bursts out with absolute energy. He had been hanging his head down but looks up at the girl so full of enthusiasm and responds like a burnt-out boxer.

“Support? What kind of support?” “How about making you both lunch and dinner?!” “Huh?!”

Of course, he was shocked. Not only is Satsuki bound to be busy in the morning, but wouldn’t she be like his mom packing him a lunch? He hesitates to put such a burden on her.

“No way I can do that to you…” “It would not be a big deal. If anything, it’s hard to cook just one portion, you know?”

He could only nod back. It doesn’t seem like she’s even half-joking. Tooru isn’t familiar with cooking enough to have a sense for that, but it sounds plausible.

And this would be good for his health too. Tooru could avoid the whole getting fat thing. However, he couldn’t just ask for this favor all of a sudden; it’s a lot more time and effort. Isn’t there something he could think of? Satsuki looks up at the thinking Tooru. Her youthfulness really felt like as if she were his younger sister. He’s seriously contemplating ideas, but still almost reached out to pat her head.

Needless to say, though, Tooru had neither the guts nor the feelings for her. He shakes the thought off and keeps thinking. And then, an idea, though a trivial one.

“In that case, I’ll pay you for each lunch.” “But, you’re…” “You’ll be using your own ingredients, right? It’d only be right for me to pay for my share.”

Satsuki looked like she wanted to say something, but she lets out a small breath and nods with a smile.

“Okay then, if you’re fine with that.” “Alright, it’s a plan. Thank you, Madam Miyamoto, for saving me from obesity.” “You’re exaggerating… and call me like you normally do.”

Satsuki waves her hand as if she were a little embarrassed, making him want to protect her even more. Even if she might be feeling down from her home situation, it doesn’t seem like it’s such a big deal to her.

“Anyway, shall we eat? Lunchtime is almost over.” “You’re right. I salute you, frozen food. You have served me well.” “Frozen food sure is handy.”

Tooru responds with a quipping laugh as Satsuki teases him. And then, once again, he looks at her lunch. It looked good the first time he looked, and it still looks good now. He’d love to try a bite. Seeing through him, Satsuki grabs a piece of omelette with her chopsticks and looks up at him. Her hair flows to the other shoulder.

“Want some? A taste-test.” “Uhh, you sure?” “Of course. Consider it research to see what you like.”

Oh, thank you so much. Even Tooru was doubting whether his chicken was enough for lunch.

“Oh, you don’t have to feed me it… it’s a little embarrassing.” “Oh, really?” “Aren’t you…? Anyway, you can just put it in my container and I’ll eat it myself.”

Satsuki’s face turns bright red again after hearing what he said. Then, she silently puts the egg on top of his food. So, it wasn’t on purpose yesterday after all. Tooru then looks down at the omelette.

It looks well-made and smells slightly sweet. There’s no way it won’t taste good. He opens his mouth and stuff his cheeks with the omelette. Tooru looks over to his side to find Satsuki with a nervous look on her face.

His eyes open wide.

Delicious. It’s perfectly seasoned with both salt and sugar. There’s even slight undertones of broth to it. Tooru has never had an omelette this tasty before. It’s even better than his mother’s.

“Miyamoto, this is amazing.”

He tells her with his mouth full of food and Satsuki chastises him for being improper. The tension had been completely cut and she relaxes her shoulders.

“Thank you. I’m so glad you like it.”

Her smile is as dazzling as always. Tooru didn’t think she could smile this brightly at first, but now he knows better. Swallowing his food revealed a light aftertaste of sweetness and broth. She’s even accounted for aftertaste.

“I’ve got great hopes for tomorrow’s lunch now.” “Look forward to it, okay?”

Their time together was soft and comfortable, if over too soon.

contents: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /next/

(please support me on Patreon or Paypal)

[genomynt]

OP Asks : 😳 ✨ 🎎 👅 👄 ⚠ 🗑 🌻 ❗ ❕ 🔗 🕳 💦 🏞- (jafskasfa so many im sorry x'''D)

LOL the more the merrier!!😳- Harem of 5-10 peopleSabo, Ace, Luffy, Law, Sanji, Zoro, Coby, Shanks, Mihawk, Niji, Kohza✨- Underrated ship I'd go Saboala... THEY NEED MORE LOVE I TELL YOU. Even in Japan, they have been decreasing number of fanarts 😔🎎- Overrated shipI've got issues with my own ship LOL and that is LuNami.👅- Cancerous shipWhen talking about the fandom... I'd go Lunami and Zorobin... Hell, the fandom is so cancerous with their arguments and stuffs...👄- Best girl I'd go for Koala! She's strong amd independent woman. I would like to see some of her backstory in the future chapters!!⚠- Flaws in OP that I hateOVER. SEXUALIZING. WOMEN. THIS. Oda please. Treat women in OP better. Also their character designs! Yeah, we get it it's a shounen... But I prefer their actions than their designs.... Also. Toei Animation Philippines (Yep, my country animates them! Check out the opening credits again, folks) AYUSIN NIYO ANIMATION NYO! NAPAKA OVER EXAGGERATED. (Fix your animation! It's over exaggerated.)🗑- TrashI'm a Sabo trash... Also the ships revolves him.🌻- Deserves BetterUsopp. This guy needs more appreciation.❗- Underrated characterAhhhhh.... I'd go for Rebecca. She's my girl!!!Sweet 16!❕- Overrated CharacterAHCK So hard! I'd skip this one... SORRY!! (I'm stuck here for 5 minutes thinking)🔗- BDSM withAHCK. Either Law or Ace! AAAAAHHHH Law would be more harsh with those handcuffs and toys and bonus with those commands! Ace would be also harsh but would be gentle in the end of the play. 🕳- Unexpected plot twist/sceneLuffy's new bounty. That hit me like a bullet train.💦- Who's my daddy/mommy? (Kink) SABO AND ACE. But Ace fits that more for me AHAHAHA 🏞- Fave arcMarinefold amd Dressrosa!! Cuz the action-packed scenes are awesome!!!

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Avengers: Storm

Summary: The avengers have just defeated Ultron, a much needed victory for the weary team, but another storm is coming their way. A new member joins the team and has some very unexpected effects on everyone, especially the Captain himself, Steve Rogers.     Secrets are revealed, scars revisited, and new wounds formed as they battle one of their toughest and most personal battles yet. All they can do is hope this wont be their breaking point...

characters: Steve Rogers/Captain America, Tony Stark/Iron Man, Widow, Hawkeye, Banner, Thor, All the Avengers, and a few original characters

Rating: Mature (just in case, still havent fully decided yet)

Note: So yay, im finally posting this after i said i would do thisa week ago... opps! And this is my first Avengers fic so be nice :)      But before you read, just a little tidbit about my writting. I love to add in new characters and it usually involves some sort of romance of some kind, so if you dont like OC’s then this might not be the fic for you, and thats ok! I also love making everything into series which this will probably end up being, so be prepared for that. But for those of you who do read it i hope you enjoy it!! And be sure to let me know what you think! ok, here it goes...

Chapter 1:

Stark Tower

     “Stark!” a familiar voice carried across the loud dance floor to the ears of the billionaire walking casually towards the bar. “You’ll throw a party for anything won’t you.”

    Tony reached the bar with one last step, a powerful hand landing on his shoulder giving him the extra push to make it there without falling.

    “Well, Captain, I hardly think defeating Ultron is any reason not to party,” he began, raising his hand to get the bar tenders attention, “we have saved the world twice, once from an alien invasion lead by Thor’s overly jealous not God adoptive brother, and once from a robot invasion initiated, not intentionally, by yours truly. A few drinks and a dance or two,” he said as he raised a glass to his friend, “is well deserved.”

    The two of them downed both of their drinks in one go, Tony ordering another round.

    “Stark, Cap, good to see you again.”

    “Doctor Banner,” Steve reached forward shaking Bruce's hand.

    Tony turned handing yet another drink to Steve then looking to Bruce, “Ah, another arrival. A drink Doctor Banner? Come on, on the house.”

    Hesitantly he declined, “No thanks. I’d better not, you know…just in case.”

    Tony pointed his drink at Bruce with wide eyes. “Fun, Banner, you’re allowed to have some.”

    ���Best to be on the safe side I think.”

    “Well as much as I admire your extremely boring sense of responsibility and lack of adventure,” Tony said as he took three more drinks from the bar, “I'm going to party like the eccentric genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist I am.”

    With that stark left the two men at the bar and wiggled his way through the bouncing dance floor.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Five hours later the party was just as thriving as it was when it first started. The group of Avengers had assembled in a quieter corner of the room, Tony with one girl on each arm, both of them hanging off of every word.

    Between the laughs and slurred sentences shared amongst the Avengers, Jarvis's faint cries could be heard, “Sir, Sir!”

    Tony stopped laughing. “Yes Jarvis, what is it?”

    “Sir, there is a lady caller at the front desk for you. She stresses it is very important.”

    “Was she invited to the party, Jarvis?” Tony continued to flirt with the two blondes beside him on the couch.

    “No Sir,” Jarvis continued sounding strained, “you must see to her, Sir, she asked specifically for you.”

    “She's probably some corporate solicitor trying to get a meeting,” he sighed and with a wave of his hand continued, “just…tell her I'm in a meeting or…just make something up Jarvis, isn’t that what I invented you for.”

    Sounding quite annoyed now Jarvis persisted, “No, Sir, you invented me as an aid to yourself and your work, not a butler nor a liar. Now, Sir, I wish you to see to this young lady immediately. If it helps any she has a two toned hair colour, almost a silver blonde on top with a dark grey on the bottom, pale skin, no older then 28 I would guess. She says it’s an emergency, sir.”

    “Silver and grey hair?” with that Tony ran with a speed a man as drunk as him should not have been able to reach and within minutes was in the nearest elevator heading to the lobby, quickly followed by the rest of the Avengers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    “Please! You don’t understand I must see Mr. Stark right away!”

    The secretary behind the desk looked more then angry as she scowled at the girl over the rim of her glasses, “Miss, I have told you, Mr. Stark is a very busy man and has no time for children to come barging into his office demanding to speak with him. If you don’t leave now I will be forced to contact the proper authorities.”

    “Busy,” the young girl laughed, “he’s probably having a party right now isn’t he?”

    The secretary didn’t say anything confirming her theory.

    “Well you tell him party’s over!” the girl said with shaking hands as she whispered desperately, “I need to see him, I need his help.”

      With an exaggerated sigh the secretary gave her a stern look, “Miss, either make an appointment,” she lifted the phone, “or I'm calling the police.”

    The young girl didn’t know what to do as she ran shaking hands through her long hair.

    “You give me no choice,” the secretary said to her.

    With no one else to go to and no other options what was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t get arrested.

    “Leeanna?!”

    Both the young girl and the secretary’s heads turned in the direction of the voice.

    “Uncle Tony!” the young blonde ran past the secretary’s desk and into the waiting arms of Tony Stark.

    “Uncle?” all the Avengers questioned in unison.

    Ignoring them all he focused on soothing the panicked girl in his arms as he ran gentle hands through her hair, “Calm down, stop shaking, you’re with me now.”

    With a concentrated breath she pulled back from his chest looking up to him. “I'm sorry, Uncle Tony, I had no where else to go. Then your secretary wouldn’t let me in, I was seconds away from getting arrested, I have no one else to turn to.”

    Tears welled in her eyes as her hands began to shake again. Pulling her in, Tony looked to his staff and ordered, “Any time this girl comes looking for me she gets a free pass. I don’t care if I am in the most important meeting of my life, I don’t care if I'm saving the queen of England, this girl comes first! Are we clear?!”

    His staff remained silent, heads down, he muttered a quick “good” before turning to his friends behind him and saying, “Out. Get everyone out of my tower, now.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    With the guests now gone and the party with them, Tony sat the young girl down before placing himself across from her. Taking both her hands in his, looking to her down cast eyes, he said softly, “Now, tell me what happened?”

    The girl gave no answer.

    “Did your parents send you here again?”

    Looking to him she answered, “No. I came on my own this time.”

    “Do your parents even know you’re here?!” With a shake of her head Tony let go a knowing sigh, “Jarvis, please call Leeanna's parents and let them know she's safe with me and will probably be staying here for a while. Their number is in my data base under Richard and Marina Burke.”

    “Right away, Sir.”

    “Leeanna,” he caught her smoky grey eyes in his, one last attempt at the truth, “what did you do?”

    Without looking away she pulled her hands from his, reaching into a pocket on the side of her pants. She brought a closed fist to his hands, placing a cold solid object in his palm, and gently closing his fingers over it before bringing her hands back to rest in her lap. Hesitantly, Tony opened his closed hand revealing a single piece of white stone, rough on some edges smooth on others.

    With a raised brow he asked, “Leeanna, what is this?”

    “It might be a piece of the White House that I may or may not have accidentally shattered the side of while visiting Washington with my family.” She said all in one breath, squeezing her eyes tight as she finished.

    Tony stood and walked to the back of his chair, clutching the stone in his right hand against his forehead, his other hand resting on his hip. “Oh, Lee…” was all he could manage.

    “I'm sorry!” her voice cracked as the tears returned, “This is why I never go outside, all it takes is for one thing to go wrong and something like this happens! But my parents insisted on taking me with them. I begged them to send me to you but they wouldn’t listen. Now every cop, agent, and news reporter in the country is hunting down the maniac that blew up the White House!”

    “Hold on,” Clint came closer, a confused look on his face, “you blew up the White House? How do you blow up the White House? There are secret service agents scattered every two feet, trained assassins can’t get in.”

    She looked to her uncle in pure desperation, searching for some kind of understanding. “Uncle Tony, I'm so sorry. I really didn’t mean it, you know I can’t control it!”

    Tony turned to her, looking to her balled fists in her lap. In one leap he was on his knees in front of her, holding both her wrists in his hands. “Leeanna! Leeanna, stop shaking!”

    “Stark…” Steve slowly stepped closer to the two, Tony completely ignoring him.

    “Lee,” he said begging her to look at him, “Lee, look at me, stop…shaking.”

    She met his eyes once more before choking out in defeat, “I can’t.”

    Tony let her hands go, standing to say to everyone, “Get back! Now!”

    Before anyone could register what was happening they were hit by a powerful wind. It escaped from the young blonde in the center of the room and shot in all directions with a force so strong the room was destroyed in mere seconds. The wind twirled around her, cocooning her inside its wall of protection, shattering glass, tables, chairs, anything it could. The Avengers were thrown across the room, holding on to what they could to keep themselves grounded. Opening her eyes and seeing just what she had done only made the wind worse, stronger as she further lost control. Tony tried desperately to get to her, to shout to her, trying to calm the girl but nothing worked as the wind raged on around her.

    She sat with her face buried in her shaking hands, curled in on herself, trying with all of her strength to take hold of the situation but she could feel her emotions gripping her tighter and tighter not letting go.

    Her eyes shot open as warm hands gripped her wrists, pulling them away from her face. “Stop! I’ll only hurt you!” The panic worsened the wind even more as she tried to pull away from Steve.

    He held her arms, keeping himself calm. “Hey, it’s ok. Just take a deep breath, close your eyes, and concentrate on my voice.”

    With no other choice she did as he said, taking a deep breath and releasing it as she closed her eyes.

    “Now relax, don’t think of anything else, void all thoughts.” Steve's smooth voice echoed in her head and she could feel him taking hold, finally subduing the storm inside. She could feel as her hands slowly stopped shaking, as he gently placed them back in her lap.

    Placing one hand on either side of her face he whispered, “You can open your eyes now.”

    She peeked her eyes open, afraid to see the damage she had done, but her eyes remained fixed on one thing. “I…I didn’t hurt you.” She whispered.

    Steve continued to kneel in front of her, allowing her attention to dwell on him and away from the destruction she had just caused. Cautiously she reached both hands forward, brushing her finger tips up his arms, over his shoulders, across every crevice of his face.

    “How did I not hurt you?” she whispered.

    “I don’t know,” he whispered back, eyes fixed on her, “maybe my strength helped, the fact that I am a super soldier.”

    A crash from behind brought the two of them out of their daze. Tony emerged from a pile of broken chairs and tables, half suited up, shaking splinters from every nook.

    “I hate to ruin this, oh so tender moment,” the sarcasm dripping from him, “but…my house is ruined and you broke the Avengers. Congratulations.”

    Finally looking around her she began to panic again. She had destroyed everything. There was not one item that remained untouched. The Avengers were scattered around the room, most with some form of broken bone, bleeding from various places, moaning as they thanked God it was over.

    A hand came up to land on her cheek, “Hey, Leeanna, just relax.” Steve could feel her hands beginning to shake again under his but his touch instantly calmed her, her hand coming up to hold his as she let out a shaky breath as she tried to understand what had just happened. She did not know this man, she knew he was the famous Cap but that was it. so after only minutes of knowing him, how could he have such a strong hold on her already.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Alright, thats chapter 1, I hope you all liked it ^^

[yarrie-writes]

Thisness

Chapter 1: A Rose by any Other Name

They called it "sublimination," because there was always a nice way to describe terrible things.

Lance had never seen it happen before, but that was just a fluke, a stroke of luck, a - a sign from the universe that he was meant for something, maybe, because in a tiny brick elementary school of 128 students, he'd been the only one sick at home the day that a fifth grader went up in flames and brought the whole school down with her.

People said, afterward, that no one could've known that it would happen. That it could've been anyone. That she hadn't done anything wrong. That there hadn't been any signs of magical affinity in her or her family, much less fire affinity...until she exploded, anyway.

None of that sounded particularly reassuring when you lived five minutes away from a building that had been charred so horribly that the brick was scorched black and the windows were crystalline puddles on the ground. Lance remembered wandering over there once, just once, and getting the shit smacked out of his ass when his mama found out. But he'd had a reason for going. His neighbors had told him, soft and low like it was a secret to tuck into his pillow and sleep on, that somebody in town had been sneaking past the patrol and smuggling out handfuls of ashes for the families who'd lost somebody, and Lance had asked, soft and low because he was in awe, who would do that, but nobody knew, because they went when it was dark and they went fast and they didn't tell no one but God. So Lance had gone looking, and he probably would've kept going if his mama hadn't caught him.

But aside from that one brave soul (and Lance), nobody in town would go near the place. A small colony of government workers migrated down for the summer to scrape charcoal and bone ash from the streets and rebuild the school, but it didn't do much good. Fear was a powerful thing.

In the meantime, Lance went to a school one hour away, and everyone even slightly related to him breathed a sigh of relief when he graduated from it before construction was done.

They called it "sublimination," because there was always a nice way to describe terrible things - and if there wasn't, somebody could always be hired to find one.

And for the last five years, Lance had been that somebody.

Maybe that was overstating his importance, a little bit.

In reality, Lance was a tiny gear in a huge machine. In reality, he was sort of a nobody, even if he was a nobody with a mouthpiece. In reality, his job could rightfully (if rudely) be summed up as propaganda-pushing.

And maybe in another reality, Lance would give a fuck about the ethics and morals of what he was doing. In this one, he didn't have any fucks left to give.

"Good mornin', Pasadena, how was your beauty sleep?" he crooned into his microphone, pulling his mouth into a smile because you fake it til you make it and he desperately wanted to make it. "This is Lance McClain speaking, here to remind you that the sky is blue, the earth is round, the stars are bright, and I'm free for dinner if you're lonely tonight, so hit me up, ladies and gentleman."

On the TV in the corner of the recording studio, he saw Pidge dropping his head onto the desk with a muffled groan, so he pointed finger guns at his techie coworker half-ironically. Pidge could use a fake-it-til-you-make-it smile, he thought. Pidge could use any expression that wasn't exasperation or homicidal rage.

He kept the finger guns up until Pidge gave him the middle finger, then he gave Pidge two middle fingers back, and not once did he stop talking during the entire exchange. "Now then, tonight's topic is the total catastrophe with the protesters at the Gates of Justice yesterday! I mean, seriously guys, if you haven't been following the news you better turn on your TVs. It was a madhouse. Lots of people fighting lots of other people, 'cause no better time to duke it out with security than when you're supposed to be protesting peacefully, right?"

He made a very exaggerated huffing sound. "Now, I'm the first to defend freedom of speech and all that. I love freedom of speech. Freedom of speech is my best girl. It just seems...kinda dumb to get so riled up about it that you go around punching people, y'know? Words don't have feelings, guys. People have feelings. People have lots of feelings. Play nice while you're flaunting your freedom of speech, that's all I'm asking.

"But this isn't just about me, guys. Hit me with your opinions, 'cause I know everyone and their mother has one about this stuff - my facebook feed tells me so. As always, the number to call is 626-555-5567! We'd love to hear from you."

In the corner of his eye, he spied Pidge and Hunk fielding the first callers of the day before he was even finished reciting the number.

Well, that didn't take long.

Seconds later, names and descriptions were scrolling down his screen, and he picked one at random, because he was a brave, brave man, the kind of brave that was often mistaken for stupidity but was actually closer to stubbornness.

"Man, you're chomping at the bit today, Pasadena, aren't you? Mr. Adam Smith, how are you doing?"

"Good." Mr. Adam Smith's voice was soft, and raspy, and absolutely not radio-friendly, which could be blamed on either the inherent quality of his voice or the obvious lack of quality in his phone. There were cars in the background, which helped not at all.

Lance winced a little. Just this once, couldn't his first caller be somebody with a good microphone? Whatever. Rolling with the punches. "You rolling in traffic, sir?"

"Not even rolling, unfortunately. But you know how it is."

A sense of humor, he could work with this. "Man alive, I wish I did know how it is. Maybe I'm lucky that this job forces me to wake up too early for rush hour, but I sure don't feel too lucky when my alarm sounds."

Mr. Smith uttered a dry, dry laugh.

Lance caught the annoyed undertone of that laugh and winced. It was an impersonal sort of annoyance, like Lance had simply nudged an underwater iceberg free and now it was floating to the surface of the sea and causing chaos in its wake. Impersonal, nothing to do with him, but that didn't mean it couldn't get ugly.

On paper, his job was actually pretty simple - all he had to do was talk, and piss the right people off, and not piss anybody else off. And Lance was good at talking, and really good at pissing people off. He might be a little shaky on choosing who to piss off and who to let go, but he was getting better at it. And right now, his hard-won instincts were telling him to bail.

"Alright, alright, while we've got you captive in traffic, my good sir, what's your take on the protests?"

"Well, actually, I think their hearts are in the right place. We all saw what happened in Kerberos, and given the...background...of the terrorists, you can see why people might think that there's something deeper going on."

"Sure, sure. But the question is, do you think that there's actually evidence that there's something deeper going on?"

"I'm not ruling it out."

"Of course not. There's no such thing as ruling it out, right? I'm not gonna sit here and tell you that I know what actually happened. That way madness lies. But what about actual evidence?"

"The tape - "

"Yeah, the tape." Lance sighed. "Not gonna lie, I've listened to it, and I am un-im-pressed. I keep trying to hear the screaming that everybody's talking about, but all I'm getting is feedback. And this is from a guy who talks into a microphone all day for a living. Thanks for talkin' back, though - good luck with traffic!"

The man tried to call back a few minutes later. Wanted to finish the conversation, Pidge's curt notes told him.

Lance sighed and picked someone else.

It would be easy to string his haters along until they stumbled. They always did, sooner or later. Lance wouldn't consider himself the smartest or cleverest or meanest person in existence - he wasn't even the smartest or cleverest or meanest radio personality on his channel - but he was incredibly good at dragging people down to his level, and that was all he needed to do, most of the time. People didn't judge arguments by how good the reasoning was. It was all in the delivery, and Lance was good at delivery.

It just...it would be easy to string his haters along, but he didn't like doing it. Didn't like shining a spotlight on people until they burned from it. Didn't like humiliation. It just wasn't in his blood, his bones, his too-soft heart.

"Today sucked," he said with feeling, curled around one of Hunk's glorious cookie-cake masterpieces.

"Tough topic," Hunk nodded. "Tougher crowd."

Pidge snorted and nibbled on his piece of cookie-cake without commenting.

Lance groaned. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I was there."

Pidge snorted again. It was an ugly, harsh little sound, like a high-dose injection of condescension.

Lance was pretty sure Pidge didn't like him. Then again, Pidge didn't seem to like anyone. Except Hunk, but everyone liked Hunk.

That was not precisely true, he reflected later, as all three of them were berated in Iverson's dusty office for 'gross negligence of their duties.' Lance had tuned him out after he realized that this was about the same old stuff. Iverson was ex-military, and it was written all over the squareness of his shoulders and the straight line of his back and the way he expected his employees to respond well to beration. He gave off this overwhelming sense of what he called patriotic dignity and what everyone else saw as overcompensation.

Plus, he didn't like Hunk, and everyone liked Hunk.

"Dismissed," Iverson barked suddenly, and the only reason Lance even heard it was that he'd been listening for it.

"Freedom," he whispered to Hunk and Pidge. Hunk smiled weakly at him, looking a little nauseous.

Pidge, being Pidge, just snorted again. "You might wanna actually pay attention when he goes off on you. He wants to fire you, you know."

"Okay, first of all, he wasn't just going off on me, he was going off on us."

"Pretty much only you, though."

"I heard Gunderson in there a couple of times."

Pidge scowled.

"And secondly, this is a government position. We're technically government employees. Nobody ever gets fired from the government. That's why Iverson's still here."

Hunk chuckled weakly, recovering a bit from his Iverson-induced panic.

Score.

Pidge opened and closed his mouth. "...you...okay. That's fair."

Score! Lance crossed his arms behind his neck and let his head rest there, soaking in his victory. "The worst thing that can happen is that I'll get promoted into a position where I can't do any more damage," he said conspiratorially.

"Oh how terrible for you," Pidge said, dry as sandpaper.

Lance grinned. "I know."

Hunk sighed and sighed, worry creasing his forehead, but it was a familiar worry that was no longer contagious, because he and Pidge were immune by now. "What do you want for dinner, Lance?"

"I was thinking burgers." Lance half-turned to Pidge. "You?"

Pidge blinked large owlish eyes at him. After a moment he realized why - ever since Pidge turned them down for dinner that first day, he hadn't asked. Maybe their lack of friendship wasn't entirely on Pidge.

"Pidge?" Hunk prodded gently.

"Oh," Pidge said, flushing ever so slightly. "Sorry. Not today, but...raincheck?"

"Sure, sure, Pidgeotto," Lance said cheerfully.

Pidge stared at him. "Was that supposed to be an insult? Pidgeotto's awesome."

"You're awesome," Lance fired back, on instinct, before he realized that yeah, that really wasn't an insult at all.

Pidge giggled, downright giggled. Behind him, Hunk threw him a thumbs up sign.

Lance groaned. "Let's pretend that didn't happen. You're Pidgey now."

"Too late," Pidge said.

"I canceled your evolution, you're Pidgey."

"Too late!" Pidge grabbed his bag and gave them a half-hearted backward wave. "Have a good dinner!"

"Thanks, see you tomorrow, Pidge," Hunk said.

Lance glared at Hunk.

"What?"

"Traitor."

"Pidge is cool, bro."

"Cooler than me?!"

"Lance, I love you, so I'm not answering that."

When he got home he put on the television. He always did, no matter how much shit the television was spewing about the state of the world. It was a horrible habit that he needed to kick, except it made him better at his job, while also making him better at hating his job.

Today the topic of choice was some gun-toting fool with the Remember Kerberos movement, which made him think about that stupid tape again, which made him listen to the stupid tape again, trying his damnedest to hear something in the background other than an increasingly sharp voice on the radio asking for someone, anyone to check in.

Some people listened to the static and heard screaming. Some people listened to the static and heard breathing.

Lance had been listening to this tape ever since it came out, and all he ever heard was static.

Wishing don't make a thing real, his mama always said.

The next day was more of the same. The protests up in Washington had escalated. Again. There were pictures of tear-gassing and water hosing. Again.

Lance was already sick of it, but he did his best not to show it, because he was a fucking professional, and it wouldn't be very professional to ask his listeners why they felt the need to express their opinions on the radio instead of taking those opinions up with people who actually mattered and could get something done.

"Mr. Tom Cain, what's your take on - "

"Madam Euphemia Lowe, how about you - "

"You're up next, Mrs. Efemena Ayodele - "

And so on, and so on.

Until - "Annnnnd here's Mr. Kitty Rose, here to pitch in his two cents!" Then Lance paused for a long moment, successfully pulled out of his own headspace for the first time all day. "Um, please tell me that's not your real name. Actually, no, wait! Please tell me that it is your real name, 'cause I love it."

"...Hello?" came the voice from the phoneline.

Lance nearly cooed at how confused the poor thing sounded. He'd bet an arm and a leg that this was the guy's first time ever calling in to a radio show. It was kinda flattering. Who was he kidding, it was really flattering. "Hello, Mr. Kitty Rose! You're on air right now. How you doin'?"

"...I'm...I guess I'm good?" He didn't sound any less confused.

This time, Lance did coo. "Awww, just good? Not great? Not dazzling? Not awespectacular?"

"What the hell is awespectacular?"

Lance grinned with wild abandon, because the setup was way too perfect, and he probably shouldn't push a new caller like this but what the heck. Being called by a guy named Kitty Rose was the best thing that had happened to him all day. "A lot of things are awespectacular! Me, for example. Specifically, certain parts of me."

There was silence...then the sharp, unmistakable click of a phone hanging up.

Lance pouted, even though no one could see him. He'd always believed in the power of making faces to give his voice that extra emotional oomph. "Well, guess he didn't wanna stay and chat, ladies and gents. Next!"

Awkward-cute or not, Mr. Kitty Rose (seriously, was that his name?) slipped out of his mind completely within half a minute. He was too busy with his other callers, some of whom agreed with him, some of whom didn't, and some of whom really didn't, but it was all in good fun - on Lance's side, anyways - and arguing was the best part of his job, so he wasn't exactly complaining.

So it was weird when Pidge came into the recording studio, afterward, and said with utmost casualness, "So. Mr. Kitty Rose?" like it was meaningful and shit.

"Dude, if that's actually his name..." Lance started laughing again.

Pidge grinned slightly - which was mindblowing to see on Pidge, King of Angry Scowly Faces - but it was a grin of the shit-eating variety. Lance braced himself, and good thing he did, because the next thing Pidge said was, "Didn't stop you from flirting with him. What, you aspiring to be Mr. Rose-Mclain?"

Lance laughed messily and ignored how his neck felt a little hot. He was never going to get used to the fact that batting for both teams was treated so casually here, but that didn't mean he didn't appreciate it. "No way, dude," he chirped out at last, "Mr. Mclain-Rose sounds way better." 

Pidge gave him the sharpest little grin he'd ever seen on a human being, and mockingly saluted him on his way out.

"I think Pidge and I are becoming friends," he mused out loud as he and Hunk sat in a sleazy bar with two orders of burgers with cheesy fries for the third time in a week. Who needed healthy arteries, anyways?

"Pidge is cool, I told you," Hunk said, around a mouthful of fries.

"You think everyone is cool."

"Pidge is actually super cool, though. Did I tell you that he managed to install some kind of internet radio app on our computers? I didn't even think they were capable of running anything more intense than Wordpad."

"Hey," Lance said, pouting.

Hunk blinked at him. "What?"

"You listen to radio stations other than mine? I'm feelin' betrayed, Hunk! Abandoned! Gutted! Hung out to dry!"

"Dude," Hunk said, snorting with laughter, "we gotta listen to something when there aren't any callers and we're waiting for commercials to pass."

"Hung out to dry, Hunk!"

Later at home, when his landline started ringing, Lance cursed wildly and had a battle of epic proportions with his remote to turn the TV off, because he knew who was calling and he knew what she would have to say about watching the news again, mijo?

"Hola, mama," he said, curling his tongue over the soft vowels of his native language.

"Hola, mi amor," his mother said warmly. "Two rings and you pick up, how punctual."

"I'm very punctual, mama," he protested, grinning. "I always do things exactly when I intend to do them."

"Does that mean that you haven't called me this week on purpose?" her voice turned gently chiding.

"Oooph, mama," he said, wincing a bit.

She laughed, forgiveness and love all in one bell-like sound. "I was listening to you the other day."

Oh shit. "Which day?" he asked, trying for lightness.

"The day you were talking about cereal," she said, and thank god, thank god, because he knew how sad she'd be if she'd been listening yesterday or the day before. Politics and laws were not up for discussion in the McClain household. His brothers and sisters would get fired up on their respective choices of social media, where his mama's sphere of influence did not extend, but Lance kept himself firmly, firmly out of those arguments, even when they tried to draw him in. Sometimes, when he came home for dinner and the table topic landed on how he was doing at work, he'd look up and his siblings would be looking at him plaintively, like they didn't understand how all the pieces that made up Lance McClain could possibly fit together into a cohesive whole. It sucked knowing that at least some of them were disappointed in him. It sucked, but he dealt with it, because he was disappointed in himself, too.

Small mercies, he reminded himself. Always be thankful for the small mercies, because you've already filled your quota for the big ones.

Things would get better, he thought, clenching his phone in his hand. Things had to get better.

Things did not get better.

He'd gone to work, spirits bolstered by his mother's warm, easy affection, and Iverson was waiting for him, and it was way too early for an Iverson lecture, fuck the universe. When it rains, it pours, he thought grimly.

"Look at this," Iverson said, thrusting a paper into his face.

Lance just barely managed to prevent himself from snapping back, "I am looking at it, but you might want to take it back a couple inches if you want me to actually read it." Instead, he said, "Yes?"

"Look at this, and read it!"

"Yes sir," Lance said cautiously, and that seemed to be what Iverson wanted, because he harrumphed irritably and stopped looming.

"This is your last warning to shape up," he said, because he only existed on a spectrum from upset to very upset. "You're not here because you're good at your job. You're here because the last man who had your job turned out to be a thief. Don't push it!"

Lance pulled the paper away and read it.

It was a fucking gag order.

When it rains, it pours, and pours, and pours.

"This sucks, man," Hunk murmured, looking over the stupid piece of paper with a critical eye.

"Yeah."

"I feel like - like we're doing everybody a disservice. This is basically self-censorship, right?"

Lance sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, but - hey, it's not like a random radio talk show in Pasadena is going to change the course of history."

Hunk frowned and looked sad.

Lance winced. "Look, I don't like it - but I don't wanna know what they do to me if I break rank, either."

Hunk chewed his lip. "You have to be careful, Lance. Maybe, this year - maybe you should try to get transferred to the tech side."

"The dark side, you mean?" Lance waggled his eyebrows.

"...we do have cookies."

Lance laughed. "Hunk, you already make me cookies all the time."

Hunk looked properly pensive. "If I stopped doing that, would you turn techie for the cookies?"

"Hunk, my man, I'd die without them. You don't want me to die, do you?"

"No, I really, really want you to stay alive," Hunk said, and wow, okay, this conversation was becoming Way Too Serious.

Pidge piped up, making them both jump, "I didn't know you could do any tech stuff. Aren't you always saying that you and computers have a mutually assured destruction thing going on?"

"Pidge, Pidge, Pidge," Lance wagged his finger at him, "I was a technician here before Hunk was."

"I mean, he wasn't a very good one, but - "

"Hush, Hunk, I'm trying to make a point."

Pidge snickered. "Consider your point unmade. And probably unmakeable."

"I'm feeling so attacked right now," Lance muttered.

"Good," Pidge said, and there was a grin on the little guy's face, and Lance felt weirdly better.

Then Hunk sighed and ran his hand through his hair, ending the moment. "We need a game plan. Pidge and I, maybe we need to screen the callers more? Make sure they're not gonna be trouble?"

"I don't mind trouble," Lance said, "s'long as they don't mention anything on the unmentionable list."

"It's gonna be hard finding someone who won't mention Kerberos or protests or anti-magic regs." Pidge wrinkled his nose.

"Give me an hour of Kitty Roses, then," Lance said, sighing.

Pidge snorted. "You sure you want that kind of trainwreck on your hands?"

Lance looked at Pidge, stern-faced and serene. "Bring it."

He should not have said that.

He should not have said anything.

Pidge was going to be insufferable.

Scratch that, Pidge was already insufferable: next to the little label with Kitty Rose's name, Pidge's note read, Ask and ye shall receive! With the next refresh, it also said, BTW I told him you were gonna answer his call, so if you don't, I guess he's just gonna think that you're a coward.

Pidge was going to suffer.

"So," he said, as sweetly as he could while simultaneously imagining a painful, humiliating death for his traitorous technician, "Mr. Kitty Rose, back again?"

"Hi," the other man said. "...I guess I am."

"You definitely are, my man. Do you actually have anything to say this time, or...?"

There was a pause. "Wow, you're kind of a jerk. Why do people take time out of their day to listen to you?"

"Heyyyy. I'm just gonna point out that you're calling in for the second time, which means that at the very least you've listened to me twice."

"And both times were a waste of my time."

Pidge was going down. Pidge was so going down. Lance leaned in and uttered in the cheesiest cartoon-villainiest voice he could manage, "How dare you."

"How dare I, indeed."

"Yeah, exactly. How dare you listen to my step by step instructions and call me."

"It's almost as though you don't want listeners."

"What, are you a listener now, Mr. Both-Times-Were-A-Waste-Of-My-Time?"

"You know that feeling you get when you pass a car accident on the road and you want to slow down to see what's going on?"

"Yeah?"

"Your radio show is the verbal equivalent."

Lance found himself laughing, hysterically, helplessly. Okay, so maybe Pidge didn't have to go down. "Seriously, man, did you call in just to tell me that I'm a jerk?"

"That's my story and I'm sticking with it."

"You don't have any pearlier pearls of wisdom? That's all you've got for me?"

"...okay, I got another one: cereal, then milk, is the only acceptable order to make cereal in."

Lance gasped. "You heathen."

"But I'm right."

"I'll have you know that I'm a cereal expert, buddy, and milk is always first."

"I bet all your cereal bowls are mushy at the bottom and dry at the top."

"You take that back, my cereal bowls are perfect, thank you, because I know how to treat my dates right."

"That sounds awfully pathetic."

"Why, why I oughta, you're pathetic!"

"What a comeback. I'm quivering in my boots."

"You should be!"

"Yes, yes. That doesn't change the fact that you're wrong."

"How could you possibly put milk over the cereal? You're just making it soggy faster!"

"It's too messy pouring cereal onto milk. Gets everywhere."

Lance narrowed his eyes. "I'll have you know that cereal is my second favorite thing to eat in bed, and unlike the first thing, I've never made a mess in my sheets with it!"

There was silence. Then, very quietly, "Um, what's your first favorite thing then?"

Oh. Oh my god. Oh my god.

He didn't get it.

This was the best day of Lance's life.

With a huge shit-eating grin, he settled down on his elbows and sing-songed, "Nothing, nothing at alllll. Hey, by the way, I'm thinking of having a cereal party soon, wanna come?"

"Uh, no, not if you're going to eat it wrong."

The best. Day. Of his life.

"Hey, man, if it matters to you that much, we can try it both ways." Lance wiggled his eyebrows. "I can bring the milk if you bring everything else."

"Er, no, I'm not drinking your milk."

Hook.

"Why? Don't you trusssst me?"

Line.

"No. Plus, I'm lactose intolerant, so double no."

And sinker.

"Oh, Kitty," Lance purred, "nobody's making you swallow."

Lance was floating on Cloud Nine, and counting, the rest of the day. He'd never been more disappointed to cut a caller short so that he could start music hour. Or more disappointed, in general. He'd already eaten four of Hunk's cookies to chase the high of that incredible call, and now he was eyeing the plate for his fifth.

Next to him, Hunk was shaking his head, the flush of secondhand embarrassment fading at last. "Dude. Dude. Did you have to?"

"Dude. It was necessary."

"So necessary," Pidge agreed.

Lance turned to Hunk. "See? Pidge agrees with me! And Pidge never agrees with me."

"Never," Pidge agreed.

Hunk sighed at both of them. "I guess we did a good job today, though."

"Good? Good? Hunk, my man, my bestie, my homie, that was more than just good. It was amazing, it was incredible, it was - it was - "

"Awespectacular?" Pidge suggested, rolling his eyes.

Lance pointed to Pidge emphatically. "YES."

Hunk looked resigned to his fate. "Right. That. Anyways, good job. I don't think anybody noticed that we didn't talk about the unmentionables."

"Thank you, Kitty Rose, savior of us all," Pidge said.

"Hey. I'm the savior here. Kitty Rose is, like, the DVD Disc 1 villain who helps out during the final battle against the actual villain."

"So not a villain at all," Pidge said.

"Well - "

"And also probably the most important person during the final battle."

"I - "

"So basically the savior."

Lance screeched. "Okay, whatever. What-ever. And here I was, wanting to invite you to our bro dinners, but I guess you don't wanna go - "

Pidge sucked on his soft drink. "Nope."

Hunk frowned. "Awww...."

Pidge flicked his eyes over to Hunk and heaved a sigh. "Yeah, sorry. Still need a raincheck."

"When's the end of your shift today?" Hunk asked.

"6 pm."

Lance wiggled his eyebrows. "And you don't have time to grab dinner with us? Does someone have a hoooot daaaaate?"

"Oh my god, Lance," Pidge muttered, smacking his head.

"That's not a no, Pidge!"

"I take it back, no raincheck."

Pidge, because he was a boring, boring person, turned out to be headed for the library at Caltech after his shift.

Lance, because he liked poking boring people until they lost their boringness, and because he still felt a little guilty about making Pidge the third wheel to his and Hunk's awesome bro relationship, tugged on Hunk's sleeve until Hunk agreed that they should accompany Pidge to the library because you know it's not a great idea to be walking around alone at night, Hunk!

"It's surprisingly quiet around here," Hunk said, warily, twisting his head this way and that, and Lance almost felt bad for appealing to his best friend's protective/paranoid instincts.

"Were you expecting it to be loud?" Pidge asked, raising an eyebrow. "This isn't exactly party central."

"Well, no, but I'm surprised you don't have protesters camping out anywhere."

Pidge snorted. "There were, for a while."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "What happened? Mace? Batons? Dogs?"

"Deadlines and exams," Pidge said flatly.

Hunk cracked a small, wry grin, while Lance outright laughed. "Oh, jesus. You serious?"

"Yep. There were We Will Never Stop Looking signs abandoned all over the courtyard as soon as Hell Week started."

"Ironic."

Pidge smiled at that, but it wasn't really a smile-smile, and it didn't even reach all corners of his mouth, much less his eyes. "Yeah. There are definitely better places to start a revolution than a school of engineers. Not enough of them care, and the ones who do care don't care enough." Was that bitterness? It sounded like bitterness. But maybe Lance was hearing things. It wasn't like Pidge to be bitter - or maybe it was, and they just didn't know Pidge well enough to know that.

"Maybe they have the right idea," Lance said cautiously.

Pidge looked really hard at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I don't think most people are cut out for revolution."

Pidge looked even harder at him. "For such a loud, bossy guy, you're actually really cynical," he said finally.

Lance grinned at him. "Hey, gotta hope for the best but expect the worst, right?"

Pidge shrugged, quiet and blank-faced. He wasn't glaring at Lance, but he wasn't agreeing with him, either. Which was normal. Everybody in the information business talked big game about the moral imperative to inform the masses and change the world and shit, but it wasn't human nature to walk the walk unless you were already headed in that direction.

Lance was a coward, he'd be the first to admit it - but at least he wasn't a hypocrite.

Unbidden, the image of the wreckage at Kerberos Station popped into his head. He winced.

At least he wasn't dead.

Kitty Rose showed up the next day, too.

They had to table the cereal debate, though, because Kitty dropped a bombshell about not being able to cook, which derailed them for a solid fifteen minutes.

He also found out that Kitty liked running and kicking balls around but didn't like team sports because of the team part, and that his favorite color was the same red as canned cranberry sauce, and that he thought pineapple on pizza was disgusting, which was so, so wrong that Lance was compelled to inform him, "You're disgusting!" before hanging up.

Then Hunk and Pidge completely and utterly betrayed him by sending forward an endless line of callers who agreed with Kitty on the pineapple issue, and he vowed not to speak to them ever again.

Kitty Rose also, apparently, thought that Raisin Bran counted as a cereal.

Lance curtly informed him that this lost him the cereal debate by default.

He also, reluctantly, began speaking to Hunk and Pidge again, seeing as his silence didn't have a lot of emotional impact when the alternative was engaging in interpretative dance moves to get his message across.

Also, Hunk gave him more cookies, and those cookies made up for all kinds of shenanigans.

Two weeks after the gag order had been thrust upon him, Lance took inventory of how he was doing and thought that, all things considered, it could've been worse. Iverson was still yelling at him regularly but it was with his usual, baseline hostility. Pidge still wouldn't come to dinner with him and Hunk, but at least the awkwardness of their duo becoming a trio had mostly rubbed off. And Kitty was, weirdly, becoming something of a friend? Lance had no idea what was going on there, only that Hunk and Pidge thought that something was, and they kept making these faces whenever Kitty called and it was actually super embarrassing. And his mama was still checking on him and his siblings were still weird about his job and the McClain house was still a no-politics zone.

So life was - not good, but okay. Really, really okay.

Or, at least, that's what Lance had thought.

It turned out that there was a difference between thinking that things were settling down, and the actual process of things settling down. A small part of Lance's brain had solidified in early childhood and never really changed after that, and it was this part of his mind that fooled him into thinking that turning his eyes away from the world shifting on its axis would somehow make it stop.

So he was just doing his usual bedtime routine, his brushing and flossing and face mask and shampoo and conditioner, when the television noises in the background stopped sounding like weather report noises and started sounding like news report noises. It wasn't a big difference, but he felt it like a cold front crashing down, chilling him to the bone. Some animal instinct told him to pay attention, pay attention so he did, plodding slowly to the living room and sinking into the couch of his living room, staring glassily at the television screen.

" - currently receiving reports of a flash flood in Washington D.C., right at doorstep of the White House. At least forty civilians, many of them protesting the recent changes in the Magical User Registration Act, were caught in the flood - "

"Authorities suspect that the flood was caused by an act of magi-terrorism or a sublimination event...witnesses say that there was a white light before water came rushing from the steps of the White House. No suspects have been - "

"This just in, the flood has started rising again, still not a cloud in the sky - "

" - massive explosion at the White House. Authorities say that its blast radius was dampened significantly by the flood - "

" - White House Correspondent, on the line now - the prevailing theory we've heard tonight is that whoever raised the flood knew about the bomb, what are your thoughts?"

"These horrific events are the doings of terrorists - and I do not use that word lightly - aligned with the magi-militant group Remember Kerberos. We all know there is a time for tolerance, a time for patience, but we have been tolerant - we have been patient. There is also a time for action, and that time is now. I call upon every member of this group to surrender to the nearest authorities - "

It also turned out that both he and Pidge were a little wrong about engineers, because Caltech was on fire the next morning. Metaphorically.

They weren't the only ones, either - the news was full of footage from nearly every major city in the country. Pasadena fared better than most, but there were still riots happening, honest to god riots. Half of lanes on the highway were blocked off because someone had moved the road partitions. There was broken glass everywhere around the 7-11 across the street from the studio. Lance actively feared for his car's structural integrity if he parked it any lower than the roof of the garage. By then, he was almost forty minutes late. 

Hunk called him while he was running up the stairs, saying, "Dude, I packed you an extra sleeping bag. Have you seen the streets? We might not be going home tonight."

"Fuck," Lance said, blearily. "That's a good idea, thanks, I'm at the studio - "

"How is it over there? I'm gonna be late, tell me how it is - "

"It's..." Lance looked around, and was nearly run over. By the time he managed to find a safe spot, he laughed weakly. "It's a madhouse, man. There are papers all over the hallway - new carpeting, hey? I almost got run over by a super short lady. And she almost got run over by a slightly taller lady. People are everywhere, and it's - uh." He peered out the window and stared. And stared. And stared. Then, without moving his gaze one centimeter, he whispered, "Hunk?"

"Lance? You okay?"

"Yeah...yeah, I'm okay. Listen. I still have a change of clothes at your place, right?"

"Multiple changes of clothes, actually." Hunk, bless him, was still so Hunk through this mess.

"Can you bring them over? I think maybe the studio's safer than our apartments right now. Kind of. Maybe?"

"What do you mean? What's going on?"

"There's, like, twenty soldiers right outside the door."

"Is that..." Hunk said cautiously, "a good thing?"

"I don't know, man." Lance laughed, only a little hysterically, "I don't know anything anymore."

"Good morning, Pasadena," he said, a pale imitation of his usual cheer, "how was your beauty sleep?"

The words felt like cotton in his mouth.

He didn't ask for callers - no techs meant nobody to screen the callers, so it would've been a lost cause anyways. It was still depressing to look at the empty tech room and watch the phones flash, ringing into the void. He had the ridiculous thought that he should keep watching, regardless, because what if Pidge called in? What if Kitty did? Surely he'd know that it was them, even without sound, without anything but the telegraphed trill of an impersonal ringtone.

The studio felt deathly still, now. Pidge was still nowhere to be seen, and the other people in the building had been leaving - he tried not to think evacuating - one by one all morning until it was just him. He hadn't even seen Iverson all day, and this was probably the only day of his life that he'd feel happy catching a glimpse of the old grump. But no one was there, so Lance stayed huddled in the recording studio, talking about nothing at all, because he didn't know if Hunk would be able to find him otherwise, and he really, really didn't want to be alone.

Halfway past nine, Hunk finally showed up with their sleeping bags and bottles of water and a generous snack stash, and Lance could have cried, he was so glad to see him.

"Where's Pidge?" they both asked, at the same time. Then they looked at each other, and looked at Pidge's empty chair, and Hunk made this...noise of distress. "Okay. Okay. I think Pidge can take care of himself. So let's take care of ourselves, first."

After he was properly fed and watered and hugged within an inch of his life, Lance started taking callers.

Pidge wasn't one of them. Neither was Kitty.

He tried his best not to think about that.

The smoke alarm went off at 4 am and woke them up. Hunk couldn't find a way to shut it off completely, but he did manage to dismantle the one in the recording studio, and they were both tired enough to go back to sleep in spite of the distant ringing. By the time they woke up again, it was all quiet. The street outside didn't look any different from yesterday, which was comforting because it meant nothing big happened and not-so-comforting because no one had come to clean up the 7-11 and the glimmer of glass on the ground was like something out of a horror movie. 

"Okay," Hunk said after they ate a dry breakfast of granola bars, "Let's regroup."

"Hunk, buddy," Lance said, wincing, "two people does not a group make."

Hunk ignored him. "A, things are kinda going crazy out there."

"Yep." Lance resisted the urge to put his hand on his forehead. No facial cleansing routine meant he had to be extra careful -

"B, Pidge is missing."

"Yep." Lance put his hand on his forehead.

"C, Your radio boyfriend is also missing."

"Why is that C? That should be, like, X or something." He paused. Then, frantically, he added, "Also he's not my boyfriend, what the hell Hunk - "

"D," Hunk continued serenely, "I'm pretty sure Pidge knows him. Like, actually knows him."

Lance shut his mouth and stared.

Hunk huffed a bit. "C'mon, man. You said it yourself, Kitty Rose just can't be his real name. But he hasn't corrected you either, right?"

"No," he said slowly.

"Well," Hunk shrugged. "Pidge is the one who screened him. And, um, while we're at it?"

Lance made a go-on gesture.

"It seems way too coincidental that Pidge - like pigeon - and Kitty are both animal names, right?"

Lance stared at him. "Oh my god. Why did I not see that before??"

Hunk, ever humble, shrugged. "So it just makes sense that they actually know each other - but also, um. I tried to find Kitty Rose in the logs, and there's nothing. No phone numbers, no call records, just...nothing."

"Pidge?"

"Pidge. Probably." Hunk scratched his nose.

Lance nearly screeched. "Pidgeeeee. Whyyyyy."

"Don't worry, don't worry!" Hunk grinned at him, and held up a fifth finger. "E, I bet they're still listening to you."

[ylla]

Friday Night Gurus - Chapter 2

Series: JJBA Ships: josuyasu, koichi/yukako (others will eventually happen too, but im tagging as i go) Tags: au where theyre famous, modern au, pining, recreational drug use (smoking that wacky tabaccy) Rating: M (eventually there will be sex, so that rating will keep climbing)

AO3 link

haha! i’m dying! (actually i’m starting to feel better) but at least i have these dorks to carry me on through this trying time.

remember to kudos the fic, comment on the fic, and bookmark the fic if you wanna see more of the same content

The second time they meet, it’s at some hoity-toity Hollywood party a few weeks later. Josuke had been invited with no intention on going, but when Koichi not-so-subtly dropped hints that the members of Arrowhead would be there, Josuke personally called the party planner and let them know that he had changed his mind and would DEFINITELY be attending. And since the party in question was at famed producer Bruno Bucciarati's house, Josuke knew it was bound to be mostly chill. Which was good, because the last thing he needed was to make drunken fool of himself. Josuke was in the middle of the monumental task of getting ready when his phone rang. "Hey mom," he answered in greeting, "I gotcha on speaker phone" Tomoko Higashikata came in loud and clear, "Hi honey, what are you doing tonight?" His hair was taking a lot of concentration, "Oh you know, got some party Koichi conned me into going to. I'm in the middle of getting ready." Tomoko tsked, "It won't hurt you to go out, you're in that house by yourself too much." She wasn't wrong. When Tomoko first returned to New York City, Josuke partied for a couple of years like the world was ending, but eventually he got bored of that, and became more or less a homebody (or hermit, as she put it). He guessed turning 24 did that to you. "Yeah, yeah, don't nag me." "I just worry about you, dear. Anyways," he heard her shuffling around, "Is that boy going to be there?" It was probably a mistake that he mentioned his harmless crush to her, but another side effect of being so far away from her was that he just spilled his guts to her every time he opened his mouth. Josuke groaned, not really wanting to talk about it, "He's supposed to be." "Is that how Koichi got you to go?" "Maybe?" Tomoko snorted, "Well, have fun. And don't forget to get his number this time." "Thanks for reminding me of my failures, mom." She chuckled, "I'm just teasing--" she was cut off by someone talking to her, "I'm talking to Josuke, do you wanna say hi? Josuke," her attention returned to their call, "your grandpa wants to say hi." The phone fumbled for a minute before Ryohei spoke, "Hey kiddo." Josuke smiled as he finished his hair. Looking good. "Hey gramps, how you feelin'?" "I'm feeling just fine. Doctor cleared me to run that marathon, so I’ve been preparing all week.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Josuke warned, struggling to get his pants on, “Don’t need you keeling over on me, old man.” He sounded flippant to downplay his anxiety over his grandfather’s health.

The bark-like laugh Ryohei made Josuke feel a little better, “You don’t have to worry about me, Josuke. Your mom keeps me in check.”

“Yeah, well, someone has to.”

Ryohei laughed again, “I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say hi and wish you luck in your hunt tonight.”

Josuke could hear the sparkles in his grandfather’s eyes. He hated it. “Yeah, yeah. Go to bed, old man.”

He got an exaggerated sigh for his trouble, “I’m going, I’m going. You nag me as much as your mother does. I love you, don’t get arrested.”

“Thanks gramps, love you too. Give the phone back to mom.”

A few seconds later, Tomoko came back, “I’m going let you go, you have fun at your party—“

“I will—“

“Don’t total Koichi’s car again—“

Josuke scowled, “I won’t—“

“And remember to practice safe sex—“

“MOTHER—“

Tomoko was snickering, “Just making sure!”

“I’m hanging up. Love you.”

“Love you too! Call me later!”

Josuke ended the call, sat his iPhone carefully on his sink counter, put his face in his hands and screamed. Those two will be the death of him.

Koichi arrived at 8 o’clock sharp, looking like a man who was about to walk to the gallows, “Let’s get this over with.”

Once in the car, Josuke took one look at his friend’s sullen face. “Okay, so if you didn’t wanna go, why did you keep saying, ‘Oh hey Josuke, you should go to this party at Bruno’s with me because there might be some people there you wanna see and possible get their number from’???”

“Because Josuke, I’m a good friend,” Koichi responded, eyes forward as they cruised to Bruno’s house, “That Okuyasu guy is supposed to be there, and you’ve been sulking over not getting his number long enough—”

 “I HAVE NOT—“

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Josuke was genuinely touched. Koichi was such a good person, so willing to sacrifice his own comfort for someone he called a friend. He—

“Wait a minute…” Josuke narrowed his eyes, “How do you know he’s gonna be there?”

“…A little bird told me?”

“It was that Yukako chick wasn’t it?” Josuke rolled his eyes so hard, he was surprised they didn’t pop out of his skull, “Dude, you don’t need me to wingman, she’s obviously into you.”

“Yeah, I know! A little too into me!” Koichi shivered, “She invited me and I hedged on going, tried to make up some excuse using you, and then she mentioned that her bandmate would be there, and I…thought you would wanna go, so I said I would be there…” he finished sheepishly.

“God. Okay.” Josuke pinched the bridge of his nose as they pulled into a substantial driveway, “I appreciate you looking out for me. You’re a good, sweet boy, Koichi.”

Koichi crinkled his nose, “I think that’s the exact same thing my mom says to me. Besides, you’ll have fun. Trust me.” Every time Koichi has said any variation of ‘Trust me’ before Josuke was about to do something he didn’t wanna do, it never ended well. He must have seen the look of trepidation on Josuke’s face, because he followed up with, “Keep an open mind. And if anything, you’ll have something new to tease me about.”

“I do love teasing you…” Josuke sighed, “Alright, let’s get this shit show on the road.”

Just like how Josuke was expecting the party to be like, the house was crowded with people, but the atmosphere was incredibly chill, save for some godawful piano playing and wailing going on in the next room.

“—YOU GOOOOT WHAT I NEEEEEEEED! BUT YOU SAY I’M JUST A FRIEND, YOU SAY I’M JUST A FRIEND—“

The host Bruno, and his cohort(? Boyfriend? Husband? Josuke wasn’t sure and never asked) Leone Abbachio were found in the foyer, with Bruno looking remarkably calm about the caterwauling in the next room and Abbachio drinking deeply from a half-empty wine bottle.

“Heeey guys, uh—“ Josuke rubbed the back of his head, “Nice party?”

“Good to see you Josuke,” Bruno shook his hand, then Koichi’s, not even flinching at the sound of a horribly off-key chorus.

“Uhm, who is playing—“ Koichi kind of gestured to the living room.

“You get one guess.” Abbachio replied, looking grim.

Josuke and Koichi both cocked their heads to the side to listen to the yowling.

“—OH BABY YOUUUU—“

They looked at each other before answering simultaneously, “Narancia.”

Abbachio nodded, “Un-fucking-fortunately.” He took a swig from his wine bottle to punctuate his statement.

“Is he drunk…?” asked Koichi, eyeing the entryway into the living room.

Bruno sipped his champagne, “Sober as a judge.”

Josuke left the trio when their conversation turned towards some boring ass label bullshit. He wandered into the next room, greeted by the sight of a woman lying on top of a baby grand piano with three completely sober dudes banging away on the keys while singing off-key. The other guests either ignored them completely, or stared at the group like they were a car set on fire.

“Josuke!” Trish Una hopped off the piano and rushed over to give him a hug. She had been discovered by Bruno, but didn’t get a lot of attention until her and Josuke did a duet. Sudden fame had come as a shock to her, and Josuke more or less took her under his wing.

He returned the hug, “Hey girl, I see that you guys are doing…something…here.”

“IT’S CALLED ART, HIGASHIKATA,” Narancia hollered, “MAYBE YOU’VE HEARD OF IT.” If you took a good look at Narancia Ghirga, you’d never expect the guy to be a rapper, but perhaps because it seemed so out of left field, that Josuke couldn’t help but think that’s why he was so popular.

“I think it’s called a mess, but you do you.”

Narancia made a face at Josuke as the two guys flanking him got up. “Sup,” greeted Mista, while Fugo waved. Mista Guido was the bassist of Passione, but that all went pear-shaped when he left the band due to, quote, ‘unrepentant dickery’, end quote. Pannacotta Fugo was one of the best choreographers Josuke had ever had the privilege of working with, and they collaborated often. They all used to go clubbing together, and it’s been a minute since Josuke has seen all of them in person.

Trish let go of Josuke to go wrap an arm around Mista’s shoulders, while he snaked an arm around her waist (Josuke had no idea what was going on there either, and honestly he didn’t want to). “Surprised to see you here! I’m glad though, I feel like it’s been forever since we were at a party together.”

“Yeah,” Fugo snorted, leaning against the piano, “Thought you’d decide to hang it all up to become the local hermit.”

“Fuck off, Fugo,” Josuke scowled.

“You wouldn’t like it, I’d just lay there and ask if it’s in yet.”

Before Josuke could retort or smack him, Narancia climbed up on the piano, mashing keys down with his feet as he struggled up, “If Josuke’s here, that means something special is happening tonight!” Narancia laid on his stomach, face propped up in his hands. He would be angelic and innocent if he didn’t have an impish look on his face, “You’re here for some hot piece of ass, ain’tcha?” That question was somehow made even worse by Narancia waggling his eyebrows.

Josuke was very aware of the amount of eyes on them, “Oh my god. Why can’t I just come hangout with it having some ulterior motive??”

Mista pointed at Josuke, “Do not lie to me in this house, Higashikata. We know better.”

“I’m not!”

“That sounds like something a liar would say.”

Josuke huffed, “You know what? I’m going outside—“

The four of them started howling with laughter, telling him not to go; Narancia’s quickly turning into whines as Abbachio stalked into the room, demanding he get his gremlin ass off of his piano, or so help him.

Taking that as his cue, Josuke escaped into the backyard. Thank god, no one else was out there. Josuke sat down on a patch of grass near the edge of Bruno’s backyard that overlooked the city. Damn bastard lucked out with the view. He lit a cigarette, then fired off a quick text to Koichi:

Josuke: I’m knocking Trish’s, Mista’s, Fugo’s, and Narancia’s heads together until they stop

Koi Boi: Stop what?

Josuke: Everything

Josuke: Also I’m out back in case inquiring minds want to know

Koi Boi: They aren’t here yet, but I’ll pass along the message.

So there he sat, looking like the aloof, cool guy he always wanted to be as a kid, but in reality, felt like a fucking imbecile. Sitting out there by himself with nothing, but dumb youtube videos to keep him company. After about an hour and two cigarettes later, Josuke realized that Okuyasu was never showing up and that he was moron for even assuming he would. He rubbed his right eye, this is what he gets for listening to Koichi. Josuke lit up one last cigarette; after he finished this, he was gonna tell Koichi that he was headed home for the night to go watch tv and be a lonely, miserable fuck.

“Uhm, is this seat taken?”

Josuke’s heart stopped and he inhaled too much cigarette smoke, causing him to cough. He whipped around to see who scared the ever-loving shit out of him, and was greeted to a contrite looking Okuyasu. He had his glasses on, hair pulled back into a ponytail, held two water bottles and also Josuke’s heart. I’m gonna die, he’s so hot.

“S-sorry dude, didn’t mean to surprise you you—“

“No, it’s okay,” Josuke struggled to get his coughing under control, “Sit down, ain’t no one out here but me.”

Okuyasu did as instructed, handing Josuke one of the water bottles he was holding, “You’ve been out here for a while, figured you might be thirsty.”

Grateful, Josuke took a sip of water, “You been here awhile?”

“Maybe 20 minutes at the most,” he scratched the back of his neck, looking mildly embarrassed, “I would’ve said hi sooner, but you looked like you were on the phone, or wanted to be alone—Which if that’s the case, I can go back inside—“

“No dude, it’s cool.” Josuke snubbed out the rest of his cigarette, “I don’t really do parties that much anymore, so I needed a break from all those people,” that statement wasn’t untrue, “You’re cool though, don’t sweat it.”

Okuyasu looked relieved, “Okay, cool.” They sat in comfortable silence for a little bit, looking out over Los Angeles.

“So,” Josuke had to get him talking, “How do you know Bruno?”

“Him and Eggplant produced our last album.”

Josuke had made the mistake of taking another sip of water when Okuyasu called Abbachio ‘Eggplant’, spewing water everywhere, “Eggplant??” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, that thing he wears on his head makes him look like an eggplant. S’what me and Yuuya got to calling him.”

Unable to help himself, Josuke threw his head back and laughed, “Oh man, I’ll have to remember to call him that.”

They made small talk for a while, before Okuyasu made to get up, “Hey uhm,” he rubbed the back of his neck again, “Do you wanna like, get out of here and go smoke a joint. I know Bruno is super straightlaced about that kinda thing—“

Josuke was up before he could even finish his sentence, speaking quickly, “Yes please, let’s fuck off. We can go back to my place if you want.”

Okuyasu’s lips curled up into this sunny smile; Josuke’s heart stuttered painfully, “Yeah dude, should I ride with you or—“

Not wanting to talk about his driving record, Josuke cut him off, “Koichi was my ride, I’ll just navigate.”

When they got back inside, Okuyasu went off to let Tonio know what he was doing (His reasoning for this was ‘He worries, plus I came with him and Yukako, so it’d be kinda fucked if I didn’t let one of ‘em know what was up.’) Josuke was too giddy to even realize that sharks out for blood had surrounded him. He was pulled down by arms around his shoulders, finding himself head to head with Trish and Narancia.

“Oooh, who’s that??”

“I KNEW YOU WERE HERE TO GET LAID, YOU FILTHY LYIN’ FUCK.”

“I didn’t! I just wanted to hang out!” Josuke tried to straighten up in vain; both of them were surprisingly strong and kept him bent over.

“Mhm,” Trish rolled her eyes before leaning in close, whispering conspiratorially, “That guy came in and asked me if I had seen you. I told him you were outside pouting like a big baby, and he stood at the door and watched you for like 15 minutes! Narancia convinced him to go out there, so you owe him one.”

Narancia puffed out his chest, “Damn straight he does, you can pay me back by giving me the nitty-gritty details tomorrow,” he finished with an obnoxious wink.

“Yeah, you’ll text us in the morning right??”

Josuke didn’t dignify either of them with a response, peeling them off of him before heading over to Koichi. Poor, sweet Koichi was sitting on a couch with an overly affectionate Yukako draped over his lap; he was looking uncomfortable, and she glared at Josuke as he approached. “I’m heading out with Okuyasu, I’ll catch ya later.”

Koichi looked mildly terrified, “Are you su—“

Yukako cut him off, cold as ice, “Good. Now leave us,” She waved him off. Josuke sneered, but the desperate look on Koichi’s face caused him to bite off his retort.

“Yo,” Okuyasu reappeared beside him, “Ready to go?”

Josuke ignored the smirk on Yukako’s face, “Yep, let’s roll.”

Thankful to be free from the party, Josuke followed Okuyasu outside to a midnight blue Dodge Challenger, “Nice.” Josuke clucked appreciatively.

“Thanks,” Okuyasu unlocked the car, with a grin reminiscent of a kid in a candy store, “First thing I bought when we started making that cash money.”

When Okuyasu turned his car on, Josuke was surprised his ear drums didn’t immediately burst from how loud his music was. “Jesus dude, you’ll get tinnitus if you ain’t careful.”

“Haha, oops? Sorry.” Okuyasu turned down the volume to a more acceptable level, ears red from embarrassment. Josuke thought it was so endearing. “You can have control over the music, as long as ya keep your comments about my music taste to yourself,” Okuyasu handed Josuke a beat up iPod, “Password is 6492.”

One of the more surprising things about Okuyasu was that he was an incredibly cautious driver. Despite driving a nice sports car, he refused to pull out of the driveway until he saw that Josuke was wearing his seatbelt, and insisted on doing the speed limit as they drove to Josuke’s house. Josuke scrolled through his music, pretending to be super interested in it, but stole glances when he could. Okuyasu drove with his right hand, resting his left elbow on the door and leaning against his hand. Oh god, he looked so cool and casual. Josuke knew he looked like a love-sick school girl, but he didn’t care.

Before he could get caught staring, he turned his attention to the iPod in earnest. Another surprising thing about Okuyasu was his very broad taste in tunes: some rap, r&b, pop, electronica, and a lot of rock bands Josuke didn’t recognize, even some classical music. A little bit of everything. “I dunno why you think I’d make fun of your taste in music, you got a lot of good shit on this.”

Okuyasu’s face broke out into a quietly pleased smile, “You can make a playlist if you want. Everyone who rides with me does.”

Josuke took a look at his playlists: a few were clearly named Keicho, Yukako, Yuuya, and Tonio, with one named Hazamada, whoever that was; there were some with names like ‘hot damn this is my jam’, ‘get buff motherfucker’, ‘chill out dumbass’, and ‘go the fuck to sleep’. It seemed like he had a playlist for everything, except getting laid. Or at least, there wasn’t anything obviously defined as a sex playlist. Not for long, Josuke thought to himself.

Firmly turning away from that thought process, Josuke started a new playlist he dubbed “Jojo’s Bizarre Mix”. He scrolled through the songs, adding as he went. When he saw his and Trish’s duet pop up, his curiosity got the better of him. He typed his name into the search bar, and let out a small, strangled noise when he discovered his entire discography.

“Woah dude, you okay?” Okuyasu took his eyes off the road to get a good look at him.

Josuke didn’t respond, only pressing play on one of his albums at random, staring right back at him. The expression on Okuyasu’s face went from confused to flustered when Josuke’s voice filtered through the speakers.

Okuyasu seemed deeply embarrassed, turning his attention back to the road, “Uhm. I can explain.”

A grin slowly spread across Josuke’s face, “You like my music?”

“Do I need to turn right or left up here?” Okuyasu asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

“Left, also you didn’t answer my question.”

They stopped at a traffic light, Okuyasu looking anywhere that wasn’t Josuke, “Yeah, I do.”

Josuke was pleased as punch, “Really?? I’m super touched—“

“Don’t make fun of me, dude,” Okuyasu sounded wounded.

“I’m not, I’m just surprised! But in a good way, I think that’s so cool that you like my shit.” Okuyasu gave him a pained look; Josuke reached over and squeezed his arm in a way he hoped came across as comforting, “I’m really not trying to sound like I’m mocking you. I think it’s great you like my stuff, because you’re awesome and have good taste.” When Okuyasu relaxed and continued on their way down the road, Josuke couldn’t help but ask, “So, how long you been a fan??”

A few beats of silence passed before Okuyasu sighed, defeated, “Since your first album—“

“You’re shitting me, for that long??”

Okuyasu pinched the bridge of his nose, “Yeah, that long. Keicho used to get pissed whenever your songs came on the radio because I wore those CDs out, so he had to hear it all the time.”

That explains why he looks at me like I killed his dog in front of him, Jouske sighed inwardly. “Why though?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you like my music that much?”

Okuyasu looked offended, “That’s dumb ass question, Josuke. You need to leave the stupid questions to me, a professional idiot.”

Josuke pointed a finger at him, “Okay, first of all, you’re not an idiot so don’t say that about yourself, and secondly, that didn’t answer my question. Also, go straight and keep going until you hit the top of the hill, that’ll be my house.”

They reached Josuke’s gate; Okuyasu rolled up to a keypad, “What’s the code.”

“4206969”

Okuyasu threw his head back and started braying like a donkey, “What the fuck, dude?”

“I didn’t choose it!”

“Then who did?? That’s not some randomly generated number, that’s on purpose.”

Josuke sighed through his nose, “Koichi’s bitch boy, Tamami. He’s an assistant, and takes care of shit I need done on top of whatever he does for Koichi. When I had this installed, he oversaw everything and picked that code to fuck with me.”

Okuyasu was still wheezing when he punched in the code and drove up to the garage. Josuke rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, keep laughing you windy asshole.” Being called a windy asshole just made Okuyasu laugh even harder.

When they got inside, Okuyasu whistled, “This is the nicest house I’ve ever been in.” He was looking around like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Josuke was turning on lights as he walked towards the kitchen, “Thanks, you want anything to drink? I got—“ he waltzed into the kitchen and opened the fridge, “beer, pepsi, water, what I think is cherry kool-aid—“

“Pepsi’s good. Where’s your toilet dude, I gotta piss like you wouldn’t believe.”

“There’s one upstairs, second door on the right. Come outside when you’re done.” Okuyasu trudged upstairs while Josuke threw his keys, wallet, and cell phone on the counter, grabbed two pepsis, and headed outside.

Josuke’s backyard had a privacy fence around it, so no amazing view, but he did have a massive, lit pool with an in-ground hot tub. He pulled off his socks, rolled up his jeans, and sat down to dangle his legs over the edge of the pool.

“DUDE,” Okuyasu gasped as he walked outside, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A POOL.” He enthusiastically followed suit and sat beside Josuke with a huge grin on his face.

“Not like it ever came up. You got the stuff?”

“Yeah yeah.” Okuyasu fished a cigarette case and lighter out of his zip-up hoodie, “You should feel special, these are rolled by yours truly.” He cracked open the case and pulled a joint out; he passed over it and a lighter over, “You get green.”

“And they say chivalry is dead.” Josuke lit it, inhaled, and passed it. On the exhale, he coughed a little, “You never did answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Why you liked my music so much.”

Clearly, this wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, but Okuyasu answered anyways, “I just like your voice. S’pretty.” He knocked a bit of ash off the end of the joint and handed it back, pink cheeked.

Josuke’s heart did a weird, fluttery thing, “You mean that?”

“Yeah dude, I wouldn’t lie about anything like that.” Okuyasu turned to look at him, face sincere.

It was Josuke’s turn to get red and flustered, “Thanks.” He took a drag, “If it makes you feel any less awkward, I’ve listened to all your albums.”

“Didn’t peg you as the type to like anything like Arrowhead.”

Josuke passed the joint back, “I’m not.”

”Then why listen to it?”

“Got curious after we met, ended up digging how you sing. You’re talented.”

Okuyasu took a puff and looked at him, dead serious, “I don’t believe that.”

Josuke shrugged, “You don’t gotta, I guess. It’s the truth though.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes while they finished smoking. After snubbing out the cinders, Okuyasu spoke, his voice soft, “Thanks dude, that means a lot to me.”

Josuke patted Okuyasu’s shoulder, and laid down on his back, “Don’t mention it.” He was feeling incredibly comfortable and hazy, “Is it just me, or do the stars look even prettier tonight?”

Once again, Okuyasu followed suit and laid on the ground beside him, “S’probably the weed.”

“Probably.”

They laid there in comfortable silence; the only thing breaking it was the water churning around Okuyasu’s legs as he kicked his feet.

Josuke closed his eyes, he was so relaxed. He could’ve fallen asleep if Okuyasu didn’t suddenly speak, “Do you live here by yourself?” His voice sounded raspier than normal, and it gave Josuke goosebumps.

“Yeah. My mom used to live with me, but after my grandpa had a heart attack a few years ago, she moved back home to look after him.”

“Shit, I’m sorry dude.”

Josuke waved his hand, “Don’t be. He’s fine now, he just refuses to move out here like a stubborn asshole.”

“Still though, that sucks,” Okuyasu turned his head to look at Josuke, “’specially you livin’ in this big ass house by yourself. It’s gotta be lonely.”

Josuke was never one to reveal deep, inner feelings, but he opened his mouth anyways, “It is, but I’m more or less used to it now.”

That seemed to really bother Okuyasu, “Well, now that we’re friends and I know where you live, I’ll come over and bug you all the time, so you won’t be lonely anymore.”

It took a lot of effort, but Josuke managed to swallow around the lump in his throat, “I’d like that.”

The rest of the conversation continued along the vein of revealing deep, personal shit.

Josuke learned that Okuyasu grew up dirt poor in Oakland. Lost his mom at the age of 10 (he lifted up his shirt and showed Josuke a tattoo of a ribcage covered in flowering vines on his right side, ‘this is for her’); had an asshole dad, got into a car wreck at the age of 15 that caused his scars when he went through the windshield, his dad suffered a stroke and had to be put into a nursing home, having lost his ability to speak, move, or take care of himself. Him and Keicho lived on the floor of Yuuya’s apartment until they started making enough money to get their own place.

“Oh yeah, and our old lead singer/guitarist tried to stab me when he learned that Tonio wanted me to replace him on the mic. Keicho pushed me out of the way, and got a knife in his side for his trouble.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. After he got all stitched up, he told me I owed him shots for life.”

Okuyasu lived by himself in an apartment that was bigger than the house he grew up in combined with the apartment he shared with Keicho, Yuuya, Akira the asshole that tried to stab him, Hazamada the roadie/merchandise guy/bitch boy, and a few rotating girlfriends of Keicho or Yuuya. He visited his dad often (‘Gave him this stray cat I found off the street to give ‘em some company when I ain’t there, it’s helped a lot’), ate at the same diner he used to work at, and still felt like being famous was some kind of fever dream he would eventually awaken from.

Josuke talked about how the three years had been incredibly lonely after his mom moved away, how fucking anxiety ridden he gets about his grandpa who helped raise him, and the fact that the only people who really knew him were on the other side of the country and Koichi.

“Weren’t you pretty friendly with those people at the party?”

“Trish and all them? Yeah, but we aren’t like super close. I’ve never talked to them about any of this.”

He also mentioned his father. “You ever heard of Joseph Joestar?”

“Ain’t that the real estate guy who’s got them really annoying commercials about his reality show?”

“Yep.”

“What about him?”

“He had a fling with my mom, and I’m the product of it. He didn’t know I existed until I was like, 12.”

Okuyasu rolled onto his side to look at him, “Damn dude, that’s rough.”

Josuke shrugged, “It sucks, and it’s awkward when I visit. I don’t even call him dad, because he’s never been much of a father. The rest of my family is really cool though and makes up for it. Like my sister? She’s really nice, and I have a nephew that’s like, 35 years old with a husband and kid. I also got a cousin that streams videogames and I try to catch them when I can.”

“It’s good they’re nice to you. What about his wife?”

“She passed away from cancer a few years ago. We got along, surprisingly enough. She never blamed me for what happened, since it wasn’t my fault. I sang at her funeral and everything.”

Josuke sat up, “Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever actually talked about this to anyone before.”

“Same here dude.”

When Okuyasu sat up, Josuke gave him a little punch in the shoulder, “Guess that makes us best bros.”

Okuyasu gave him a grin that was brighter than the stars, “Hell yeah we are.” He got up and padded over to the pile of his shoes, socks, and various other items, “What time is it?” Okuyasu clicked his phone’s screen on, light bouncing off of his glasses, “Damn! It’s like 3 o’clock in the morning. How fuckin’ long have we been out here??”

“At least four hours.” Josuke got up and stretched, “Do you wanna stay the night?” Josuke turned around to look at the house, not wanting to look Okuyasu in the face in case his offer was rejected, “It’s pretty late, we could watch a movie in my room until—”

His statement gets cut off when Okuyasu spears him into the pool.

When he emerges, he’s met with Okuyasu’s hysterical laughter, “I’m sorry,” he choked out, holding his gut, “I couldn’t help myself. I’m down to stay, but I’m gonna need a change of—REEEEE.”

Josuke flailed over to him and dunked Okuyasu underwater, “You absolute motherFUCKER.”

Okuyasu reemerged with a gasp, and started splashing Josuke in an attempt to get away. They wrestled around in the pool, insulting each other until they were out of breath. “Okay,” Josuke breathed, chest heaving from a mix of laughter and exertion, “I’m wore out. Let’s go watch a movie or something.”

Being a gracious host, Josuke let Okuyasu use his shower first while he set out an extra toothbrush, basketball shorts, and a tank top that was emblazoned with ‘I want ABSolutely all the pasta and breadsticks’ on the sink for him. Josuke turned on his PS4, scrolling through movies while he waited for his turn. He was debating between two terrible comedies when Okuyasu came out of the bathroom, tank top in hand.

“Dude, this tank top is amazing, who got this for you?”

Josuke couldn’t answer him, because he was too busy staring at his chest; Okuyasu was fucking jacked. It was taking all of his willpower to not reach out and try to touch his abs.

Okuyasu whistled, waving his hand in front of his face, “Hello, Earth to Josuke. You still on the planet?”

“Oh shit—Sorry, zoned out there for a minute. Uh, my personal trainer got me that for Christmas last year. He’s got a knack for finding wacky shit like that.”

“He’s got some good taste,” Okuyasu chuckled while pulling the tank top on.

Josuke got up to head to the shower to mask both his disappointment and boner, throwing the controller to Okuyasu, “Pick something out, I can’t decide.”

One quick, cold shower and vigorous toothbrushing later, Josuke crawled under the covers with Okuyasu, watching some awful movie.

“Hey, Josuke.”

“Mh?”

Okuyasu hesitated, “You’re not gonna care if I like, fall asleep in your bed right?”

“Nah dude, it’s cool. You can sleep in here with me.”

A small, shy smile spread across Okuyasu’s face, and every part of Josuke screamed KISS HIM, KISS HIM RIGHT NOW.

He didn’t. He was too much of a bitch boy. Instead, when Okuyasu fell asleep halfway through the movie, Josuke opted to watch him. When the movie ended, he put Oku’s lopsided glasses on the nightstand, turned off the tv, and settled down beside him.

Josuke didn’t expect to fall asleep so fast when the object of his affections was literally laying right beside him, but the sound of Okuysau snoring gently lulled him to sleep.

When Josuke woke up the next morning, he was pleased to find a snoozing Okuyasu beside him. Last night had been wonderful, and the first time he had fun in ages. He wondered if Koichi’s night went just as well—

Oh shit, Koichi! He forgot!

Josuke scrambled for his phone and shot off a text:

Josuke: making sure you ain’t dead. text me back when you get this

A few minutes later, he got a snap from Koichi.

The picture was of him shirtless, half of his face was deadpan while a mass of black hair covered the other half. The caption read, “I’m sore. She rides hard.”

Josuke hollered so loudly he woke Okuyasu up.