#new teen jesus slaps go listen to it

[sweaterregrets]

but I don't mind you're only a part time deadbeat/listening out to whatever you yell from the backseat/and I know that you'll never admit defeat

🎵Backseat Driver- Teen Jesus and the Jean Teasers🎵

[bisexualcacti]

Summary: the group reconvenes to figure out your next step after some disturbing news that put everybody on edge.

Pairings: Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader, Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4318

A/N: very unsure about the talk you have with Max here, I just hope nothing sounds too ooc if anything.

Taglist: @prettyplant0 @anitatvd @slvdsjjk @notplutos @trashpanda-boots @preciousbabypeter @drarrytrash1 @endurexxsurvive @chipster-21 @lenissa @evilcr0ne @coldspoons

PART 5 - FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS

Life has never been of value to you. You try and think of a single moment where you’ve truly been happy to be alive and draw a blank. It’s not as if you’ve had a particularly traumatic childhood experience or anything of the sort. As far as you remember, your parents were always nice to you... or they were until dad died and mom couldn’t deal with it to save her life, so she decided to forget she had a child and threw herself into religion. You basically raised yourself, and although she was there, her presence would be comparable to scratching a lottery ticket. You win or you lose. She praises you for being her lovely daughter or she tears down your psyche and slaps you for refusing to pray with her at dinner. You’d like to say the physical aggression was the worst of it, but it was the living scared of your own shadow, afraid you’d set her off, what haunted you to this day. That entire situation on top of being a queer teen in a small town in the '80s will probably not do much in making you thrilled for the wonders of being alive; but then why is it that when Max starts listing off the symptoms that the two dead kids suffered before they were violently killed, you feel dread overcome your body, its icy grip making you freeze in place.

“Chrissy's headaches started a week ago, Fred’s six days ago,” she pauses, “I’ve been having them for five days,”

It is Robin who turns your way, fully standing up, hands slightly shaking and expression panicked, “How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you been having yours?” her voice trembles.

You were hoping she wouldn’t figure it out, but she’s always been the smarter one out of the two of you. Looking at the floor, unable to meet her eyes, you respond, “Three days. It would be three days today,” your voice even sounds defeated to you.

A chill seems to envelop the room, the mood in the entire office turning grim as you all grapple with the gravity of your situation. It’s Max who speaks again, mainly addressing you.

“I don’t know how long we have. All I know is that, for Fred and Chrissy, they both died less than 24 hours after their first vision. And I just saw a goddamn clock so…” she breathes shakily, “Looks like I’m going to die tomorrow,”

A distant clang interrupts your conversation, making the bunch of you jump. In the crestfallen state you are all in, it is Steve who jumps to action, always glad to be of service. “Stay here,” he orders, and grabbing a floor lamp, heads to the dark hallway.

Of course, you don’t listen to him and follow anyway, but as everyone is exiting the room, you feel Robin’s hand slip into yours. Surprised, you look at her. She’s avoiding eye contact with you, but her determined frown and shaky breathing say everything she doesn’t, as her hand squeezes yours. It’s slightly cold and a bit sweaty, but the familiarity brings comfort to you anyway.

She walks in front of you, and you think it might have something to do with the recent revelation and the urge to protect you, so you let her. Fast footsteps run in your direction, and you all tense, Steve lifting the lamp in preparation for whatever’s coming. A figure rounds the corner, and you scream before recognizing freshman Lucas Sinclair as the culprit of your almost heart attack.

“Jesus, what’s wrong with you, Sinclair!” Steve scolds.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, panting for air.

“I could’ve taken you out with this lamp!”

“It’s just a lamp, Steve,” you remark unimpressed, to which he looks at you annoyed, muttering the words you just said in a mocking tone.

“Sorry, guys, sorry,” Lucas apologizes once again, still hyperventilating, “I was… I was biking for eight miles,” he motions the action with his arms and then lifts a single finger. “Give me one second. Shit,”

Once he’s regained his breath, he continues. “We’ve got a code red,” A what now?

Steve voices your exact thoughts but Sinclair just ignores him, walking straight to Dustin, “I’ve been with Jason, Patrick, and Andy, and they’ve gone totally off the rails. They’re trying to capture Eddie and they think you know where he is. You’re in terrible danger,” he explains in an urgent tone.

You should’ve expected this. From the conversations you had with Chrissy in the past, you’re almost convinced she never loved Jason, even if she did care for him, but that boy basically worshipped her. Jason must’ve found out through the police that it was Eddie’s trailer where they found the body, and true to his nature, it doesn’t surprise you he’s leading a manhunt against him. God knows you wouldn’t do the same if that happened to Robin. Hell, you’re basically doing it for Eddie. You’ve gotta give it to the boy, it’s sweet, if mislead and most certainly inconvenient for you.

“All right. Yeah, that–that definitely sucks but we’ve got bigger problems than Jason now,” he responds, turning to look at you and Max.

Lucas seems confused, not entirely sure of what Dustin means, but due to his tone he appears to understand how dire the circumstances are, and his expression turns concerned.

With the information you needed from the school acquired, you head to Nancy’s house, while Dustin catches Lucas up on your recent findings. After he’s aware of what’s going on, he tries to talk to Max, who is not in the mood, only providing monosyllabic answers; so the boy decides to leave her alone. It is obvious to you that there used to be something there, but as much as you sympathize with Sinclair, you can’t even begin to imagine how Max’s feeling. You’re still processing the fact you might die in three days, and she’s just found out she could die today.

Apparently, though, Lucas and Max aren’t the only ones affected by this sudden turn of events. Robin’s thumb rubs the back of your palm in a repetitive motion, absentmindedly. She hasn’t let go since you left the school, seemingly finding the movement soothing, and you can’t say you’re opposed to the feeling of Robin's fingers intertwined with yours. You find it stranger, however, that she almost hasn’t spoken a word since Max gave the news, lost in thought, which isn’t particularly weird for her but you recognize she at least tends to participate more in conversations, whether it be with a witty remark or a snarky comment. It sort of makes you want to crawl in her head and find out what she’s thinking, but you also know Robin and respect her privacy enough not to push. She’ll come to you eventually.

The moment you arrive at Nancy’s house, you and Steve are put on babysitting duty while Nancy and Robin plan your next move. She’s reluctant to let go of you, like the moment she does you’ll be gone, but you squeeze her hand to remind her you’re still right here and she nods, assured as she drops your hand.

“You’ll tell me if anything’s wrong, right?”

 “Yes, Robin,” you promise.

“Like under any circumstance, you’ll come running to me if you start feeling off, right?” she insists once again.

“I will, I promise,” you reassure. “Now go, you’re making Nance wait and we don’t have much time to spare,” you say with a smile, slightly pushing her shoulder amicably.

She seems like she wants to say something but looks back to where Nancy waits on the stairs to the second floor and thinks better of it. Together, they head to her room while you, Steve, and the kids head to the basement. You can’t say you’ve had the privilege in the past to visit the Wheeler’s basements, the only times you visited the Wheeler’s house already few and scarce, but if you had to guess, this was definitely Nancy’s brother’s little mancave. Once you’re down, Max goes off on her own while the boys sit and talk with each other, and you decide to approach Steve as the only other actual adult between the bunch of you.

“Should we… talk to her?” you ask, nodding your head in Max’s direction.

“I don’t think so, she’ll just blow us off. For now, it’s better we just leave her be, let her process,” he suggests, arms crossed as he leans against one of the wooden beams of the basement. He turns to you then, worried look on his face. “How are you though?”

You sigh, a bitter smile on your lips. “I’m just… trying not to think about it. I’m not the one in mortal peril, so I'm focusing on helping Max and everything that happens after will just… happen after,”

“Huh,” Steve says with an amused grin, “You’ve changed,” he muses.

“What do you mean?” you ask, genuinely puzzled.

“I mean, I’d gotten that impression before but now, I’m sure. The Y/N I knew would’ve tucked tail and ran at the first sign of an inconvenience to her carefully preserved lifestyle. And yet here you are, literally risking your life to help us,”

“Vecna would’ve gotten me anyway. If anything, I’m helping myself by teaming up with the only ones who have at least an idea of what’s going on and what this creature is. Really, I’m not doing much, just following along,” you say, refusing to take the compliment for doing the bare minimum once in your life.

“I wouldn’t call fighting against an outer dimensional being in order to help your friend not doing much, but sure,” he shrugs.

In truth, he does have a point. You didn’t use to care that much for anyone that wasn’t you and fuck if you would’ve gone out of your way to help someone like you’re doing right now. Eddie has had a big impact on you in that sense. He’s made you care again. About him, about people, about life. You snort at that. Eddie fucking Munson of all people teaching you the magic of friendship. Oh, he would shit himself laughing if he heard you right now. And there it is again, that feeling of longing when you think of him. You want to see him, you want to hug him, you want to tell him all about your epics adventures to clear his name and poke fun at him for being the only one able to get into such a big mess by quite literally doing nothing. Fuck, you miss him.

Steve interrupts your inner monologue before you can keep thinking about Eddie, “So…” oh fuck, you already know where this is going. Really? Again? “What’s up with you and Robin? How do you guys know each other?” You need to start charging for the amount of times you’ve been asked this question.

“Been friends since kids, I ditched her in high school, and now we’re… trying to make amends,” you summarize.

“So, like, you’ve always been just friends?” he asks, acting nonchalant and avoiding your eyes. You raise a brow at that, confused. What the hell is he trying to get at?

“Yes?”

“And Robin’s never like, acted any differently towards you?” he looks at his nails as his foot swings back and forth.

“No? She was mad at me, I’m still not entirely sure she isn’t anymore, but she’s pretty much always been the same,” you respond, off-put by his behavior.

“Cool, cool, cool, sure, sure, sure, sure,” he says, nodding rapidly, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

You sigh and try to reassure him, figuring he’s just worried about his friend, “Look I know you and her are friends, and I’m happy she has you. She’s always been a bit of a loner,” you say with a fond smile, “so I’m genuinely thankful she’s had someone looking out for her. I just–I was a dick, I know, but I had my reasons to do what I did, even if you won’t get it. Point is, I love Robin and I just want the best for her, promise,” you say, holding out your pinky to him. “You have my official permission to kick my butt if I fuck up,”

He studies you intensely, weighing the veracity of your statement, and apparently, it seems to weigh enough, as he smiles and links your pinky with his.

With that conversation over, you seize the remaining time in catching the boys up with the whole Victor Creel business, sharing photocopies of the article you and the girls found. Once you’re done, you leave them to their devices and decide to try your luck with Max,

“Hey…” you say, drawing out the greeting. “How’s my favorite read head doing?”

With a nervous smile, you approach her, but she responds immediately, not in the mood, “I don’t know you; you don’t know me. We’re neighbors and that’s it. I don’t pretend to suddenly become your friend ‘cause we’re both going to die,” she doesn’t even turn around, just keeps writing.

Okay, so that obviously wasn’t the best way to approach her. You attempt to put yourself in her place and think of a better way to talk to her, but then you realize that… you are in her place. You’re also going to die.

With that in mind, you try again.

“Alright, I get it, you’re not in the mood. I understand, really. But the reality is, I’m dying, you’re dying, it sucks, okay? But I’m here, and you can talk to me. Like you said, you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, plus, we’re both going to die anyway so anything you say to me will only stay with me. To the grave,” you emphasize.

She doesn’t respond this time but also doesn’t dismiss you entirely, so you take it as a cue to keep going.

“How ‘bout this,” grabbing a chair and turning it around, you sit near her, your elbows resting on the back of the chair. “I tell you something I’ve never told anyone, and you do the same in return,”

She turns to look at you skeptically, like you’re proposing the shittiest exchange ever, and you hurry to reassure. “It can be whatever you want. Deal?”

You hold out your hand to her and the one she’s writing with halts in its motion, as she slowly turns to look at you. Her eyes study your hand with distrust, like it’ll bite her, and very deliberately, she raises hers to shake yours. You smile at her, encouragingly, “Good, great,” And it is then you have a mild crisis. To be quite honest, you weren’t expecting to get this far. You thought Max would just tell you to fuck off, so you weren’t planning on anything to say after your proposition, and now you find yourself a little lost on how to proceed.

From the little you know Max, you’re pretty sure the girl is some sort of bullshit detector, so lying wouldn’t do any good. If you really wanna get to her, you’ll have to be honest. You try and think of something you’ve never told anyone, and the very thing you’ve been escaping comes to mind. Terrifying, but honest. Your hands shake as you contemplate the possible consequences what you’re about to say could have, but despite them, you decide to do so anyway. If you’re going to hell, you might as well deserve it. “I’ve… I’ve never told anyone this but, since I was a kid, I… I felt different... than the other kids. The other girls,” Max listens to you attentively, trying to gauge if the secret you’re about to tell her is worth the deal, “I found out something about myself, about who I am, that made me–it made me think I was wrong. Broken,” your voice starts trembling at this point, and you have to fight to get your words through the tight knot that’s formed around your throat. “I didn’t know what to do, so I ran from it, I hid, and in doing so, I ended up hurting someone I care about. Someone I love,” you say, gaze downcast. “To be honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable with it. That scares me, but… it's been more than five years now and it hasn't gone away, and I'm afraid if don’t start being myself, I’ll never actually be at peace in my own skin,”

The vulnerability is making you feel exposed, and you’re transported to the past. Suddenly, you are a meek 12 years old in a confessionary talking to the priest at church, your perverted thoughts leaving your mouth in hushed whispers, ashamed of yourself, and asking for forgiveness from a God you don’t believe in. Taking a deep breath, you looked at her straight in the eye and prepared to confess, “I… I like… I like girls. In the way… that boys like girls.”

The size of the revelation, you think you are supposed to feel like the world has moved off its axis, but instead, you’re just overwhelmed by a deep sense of peace. A huge weight feels like it’s been lifted off your shoulders, and you don’t think you’ve ever been able to breathe in your life as you do just now. You smile. Actually, truly smile in what feels like years, and when you touch your cheeks, you feel them damp from the tears that fall from your eyes, and you laugh, you laugh like a little kid ‘cause you’re finally free. This truth is no longer yours to bear anymore and you’re free.

Max is quiet in front of you, taking in what you’ve just told her, and when she speaks again, you’re afraid of what she’ll say, but she completely dismisses your admission. “My brother,” Max says, “My brother was a jerk. He was a jerk and I hated him, and I wanted him gone and I couldn’t stand him. And then–then he died,” her voice cracks, and she takes a deep breath, collecting herself “And none of the facts stopped being true, but–but it’s all–it’s all my fault. I couldn’t save him. I just stood there watching as that–that monster killed him,” she lifts her eyes from the floor to search for answers in yours, “I failed him, and I don’t know what to do ‘cause I wished for him to be gone so many times and now he finally is and I just miss him. And it didn’t take me but God sometimes I wish it had,” a sardonic smile takes over her face as she lets out a humorless laugh. “And then I’m faced with how much of a liar and a coward I am ‘cause I don’t want to die, not really… but maybe it would get rid of the guilt and I can’t bear with it anymore. I just can’t. I cant.”

No longer do you see the broody teen that used to be in front of you, but a child, a child who’s terrified to death of what’s about to happen to her. “I’m scared,” she admits avoiding your eyes. “I’m so scared,” Carefully, you get up and go to hug her, giving her enough time to pull out of reach if she doesn’t want to, but surprisingly enough, when you hug her, she squeezes you tight while you rub circles with your hand in her back. The moment you stop hugging her she avoids your eyes, and you start walking to where the boys are discussing the Creel situation, figuring you should let her collect herself, before you hear her faintly say behind your back.

“I’ll keep it.”

You turn around, “What?”

“Your secret,” she looks at you in the eyes, a wisp of a small sympathetic smile in the corner of her lips, “I’ll keep it,”

You return it, grateful and relieved, “Thank you,”

She nods and you leave her be. That’s probably enough heart-to-heart conversations for now. You decide to take a nap, tired after being awake for almost two days straight, and you’re woken by the sound of rapid footsteps descending the stairs to the basement. Robin and Nancy stand at the base of the staircase, proud smiles lighting their faces up.

“Okay, so…” they exchange glances, “We have a plan.”

Once they’re sat, Robin proceeds with the explanation. “Thanks to Nancy’s newspaper minions, we are now rockstar psychology students at the University of Notre Dame,”

“I’m now Ruth,” Nancy announces.

“I’m Rose, and you,” Robin says, looking in your direction, “are F/N,”

“Ruth?” Steve inquires.

Nancy only shrugs with a smile and you gotta say, she does have a very Ruth face.

“So we called Pennhurst Asylum,” she continues, “told them we’d like to speak with Victor Creel for a thesis we’re co-writing on paranoid schizophrenics–”

“To which they said no.” Robin finishes.

“But we landed a three o’clock with the director,”

“Now all we have to do is charm him and convince him to let us talk to Victor,” sure, easy you think.

“And then maybe we can rid you and Max of this curse,” Nancy says sympathetically, looking your way with a sad smile. You nod at her, appreciating the thought.

“Yeah, about that. We’ve been doing our Victor Creel homework, and, uh… we got some questions,” Steve adds.

“Lots of questions,” Lucas stresses.

“So do we. Hopefully, Victor has the answers,” Nancy responds.

As Steve sifts through the folder, confusion overtakes his face, “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait a second. Uh… where’s mine?”

Ooh, low blow.

You can’t help but giggle as you enter Nancy’s room, Steve hurrying after Nancy in front of you. The room is as pink and feminine as you expected from her, and you are unable no to gape a little bit. After your dad died, you and your mom weren’t exactly left in the best economic situation, so seeing Nancy’s room brings a slight feeling of envy. You could only dream of having something as nice as this.

“Nancy, you’re outta your mind if you think I’m babysitting again,” Steve protests.

“Okay, first of all, they’re not babies anymore; and Max is in real danger, she needs people around her,” Nancy argues back. Gee, you feel for him, you really do, but Nancy’s right. Someone needs to watch the kids and turns out Steve has a knack for it.

“I know, but why does it always have to be me? Why can’t she do it?” he points his finger to you, accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin this on the dying girl, pretty boy,” you retort. Maybe the guilt-tripping isn’t the most moral thing to do, but as much as you like Max, Dustin, and Lucas, you wouldn’t be exactly thrilled to spend your last moments alive with them.

Robin joins the conversation as she enters the room, eyes taking it all in with a grin on her face, “Oh my god, you have a Tom Cruise poster,” she turns around to look at Nancy, a cute grin on her face as she regards her curiously “You have a Tom Cruise poster” she drawls suggestively.

“That’s… old” you snort at that. Sure, Nance, sure.

Robin laughs and you think you fall in love all over again. She starts to rummage through Nancy’s stuff and it occurs to you that she resembles a small child that’s just consumed too much sugar, eyes bright and curious. You look at her with what you think must be the most pathetic lovestruck expression ever, but you don’t care, you don’t mind how lame or pathetic you look.

Because it’s her, and you love her.

Nancy, though, doesn’t share your perspective, “Can you please not touch anything?” she pleads exasperated. Robin just smiles her way, completely ignoring her.

“I can’t do anything here, Nance. Maybe I can be helpful with this asylum director dude. I don’t know, I could like–turn on my charm,”

“What charm?” you tease with a shit-eating grin. He just glares at you, but it’s worth it when you hear Robin guffaw with laughter

“Good one,” she says approvingly, palm up for a high-five.

You slap her hand and hear Nancy speak again, “Not the charm we need,”

“Ouch,” is Steve’s only response.

“No, I just,” she sighs, “Look, I–I did a little digging last night and it turns out this Dr. Hatch is a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association and a Harvard visiting scholar, okay?” and you’re supposed to convince… that dude. You.

Shit.

“This is a lifelong student of the world, and if we’re gonna win him over we have to convince him we are too. That like him, we are true academic scholars,”

“Holy shit, there’s a little ballerina in here,”

You all turn to look at Robin, who holds a music box in her hand, as she bites her lip with an amused expression, and you have to resist the urge to face palm yourself. This is your best friend and you love her, this is your best friend and you love her. Steve looks at Nancy, his face the visual representation of ‘Are you serious?’

“Academic scholar? She’s giving you an academic scholar vibe? Yeah,” he deadpans.

“Hey! You’re talking about the girl who helped you decipher the Russians' message and can speak several languages, be more respectful!” you say, holding your laughter as you slap his arm. He grunts and Robin looks your way, a blush painting her cheeks, before addressing Steve with a smug smirk.

“What she said.”

“She may not give a scholar vibe now,” Nancy trails off as she searches through her closet, before finally holding out a pink shirt and looking at Robin. “But she will.”

“Oh, please tell me that you’re joking,” she responds, horrified.

Okay, now you do laugh.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Interlude I | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Interlude II

Robin’s route: Part 9 | Part 10

Eddie’s route: Part 9 | Part 10

[corellianrose]

How Can I Explain? Ch. 3

Pairing: Eddie Munson | Reader Summary: Eddie really loves the theatrics. Word Count: 3,639 Warning: smoking weed, underage drinking, skinny dipping (w. underoos) A/N: Here is chapter 3. Thank you to all of you who've given the other chapters love. =)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

One Fine Day

“But, you got my note, ya?” He asked. His thumb resting on your cheek.

“Mmhm” You leaned into his hand.

“Ok, I have to do something, but I’ll meet you at the table, alright?” Eddie gave you a quick peck on the top of your head and left. He left you stunned with flushed cheeks. You lifted your hand and held it to your forehead, making sure you didn’t imagine it.

You lifted your head to the sound of your name being yelled at, seeing Robin clumsily fly down the hallway towards you. In her path, she pushed a kid or two out of her way. When she reached you, she gripped her hands onto the upper parts of your arm and pushed you into your locker.

“Did I just see that with my own eyes?” Her eyes were the size of saucers.

“I... think so?” Using one of your hands to cover the heat that blanketed your cheeks from embarrassment. Your pulse raced through your veins.

“I expect everybody here did.” There was a colossal grin on her face as waved her arms around. You reciprocated. “I told you so. I.told.you!” She slapped your arm repeatedly.

“Shut up” the highest squeal came out of your mouth as your two giggled like the school girls you were.

Robin placed her arm around your shoulders. “Off to lunch?”

“Onward, ho” you lifted your arm and pointed toward the cafeteria. 

Both of you were still laughing as you walked into the lunchroom. Nothing implied to be out of the ordinary. Just the smell of the bland lunch food and mid-day teen odor. Glancing over at the Hellfire table Eddie wasn’t sitting in his usual spot. Gareth and Jeff were play-wrestling at the head of the table. You look at the rest of the Hellfire crew and the boys just sat there laughing. Mike and Lucas cheering them on. But you also noticed your little brother wasn’t there as well.

A moment later the doors by the stage burst open from the outside. 

“HOLY SHIT!!, MUNSON’S ON THE ROOF,” the panicked teen announced. “I THINK HE’S GONNA JUMP!” The kid turned his heels and ran back outside.

There was a sudden murmur that echoed throughout the cafeteria. Kids rapidly shot up from their seats and rushed to the parking lot. Bodies pushed each other as they forced themselves through the double doors.

“What the fuck did he just say?” Without waiting for a response from Robin, you dropped your backpack onto a table and ran with the rushing crowd. ------------------------ It was finally the summer of ‘85. The last glorious summer before your final year of high school. This was supposed to be the summer of a lifetime. But no, your friends weren’t able to do anything since they were too busy having lives of their own. Nancy and Jonathan were interning at the paper. Robin and Steve were at Scoops Ahoy. You couldn’t even do anything with Dustin cause he was at summer camp. So this just left you stuck at home, sitting on the couch, watching reruns of Bold and the Beautiful at 10 in the morning.

With nothing else better to do, you decide to go to the record store downtown and finally grab that copy of the new Talking Heads album and maybe surprise Dustine with the new Weird Al as well. Pulling into the parking lot, you noticed the familiar van that was Eddie’s. Parking beside him, you see his head banging, jamming out in the driver’s seat having a private little concert. Completely unaware of the world around him, just him enjoying whatever metal song he was listening to.

Stepping out of your car, you could hear the vibrations of the bass coming from the van. Closing your car door, you sauntered over to his van and tapped on the window. A high-pitched scream emanated from behind his window. 

“Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie clutched his hand to his chest. Plumes of smoke burst through as he rolled his window down. “F…fuck Christ, Henderson”

“That’s my name.”  Suppressing your laugh, sputtering like an old water faucet, you leaned in and placed your head into your palms. “Don’t wear it out,” Eddie heaved as he caught his breath. The van smelled very much of weed, tobacco, and summer sweat.

Eddie shakily grasped at your arm. “Please, don’t you ever do that again. You damn nearly gave me a heart attack.” He wiped the sweat off his brow. “Jesus.. fuck”

“You’ll survive.” You placed your hand into his hair and ruffled it. “See you around, Munson.”

While walking to the entrance of the record shop, you heard Eddie call after you.

“Hey, Henderson, doing anything later?” Turning around, you see him propping himself against his van, another cigarette hanging between his lips. He never looked so hot, no pun intended, but also all pun intended. He glistened from the summer heat, hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. It was then you noticed he wore a cropped version of his Hellfire T-shirt, jeans that hung low around his waist, showing the band of his boxers, and a pair of high-top Reeboks. Eddie was a vision, making your mouth slightly water.

“Uh… Probably just gonna listen to the new Talking Heads album I’m about to grab.“ You hovered your hand above your eyes, blocking the sun. “Why?”

“So nothing?” Smoke came out of his nose as he spoke. “I was just thinking. Uhh… I got nothing else today either. If you .. like, I dont know, wanna hang? We can listen in my van.” 

About an hour later, you and Eddie sat at the back of his van, feet dangling over the bumper, a beer in hand. Watching the waters of Lover’s Lake lap up onto the shore and how the trees swayed with the warm breeze. Talking Heads played low in the background. The temperature was a smidge ‌cooler but still humid. 

“So, tell me, Henderson. Why aren’t you with your crew?” At the corner of your peripheral, Eddie pulled something out of his crumpled leather jacket. A joint. He never looked more at peace doing something so simple as grabbing something from his jacket and then lighting up that something.

“Everyone decided this was the summer to figure out their lives and it excluded me.” You laughed lightly into your beer, taking a long swig. “Steve and Robin are working at an ice cream shop at the new mall. Nance and Jonathan are interning at the town paper. Can’t even bother my little brother cause the brat is away at camp. And Me? Zip. Zero. Nada. You?”

“Wait? You have a brother?” He tilted his head away from you and blew smoke.

“Ha, yea. He’s a super nerd, smart as all hell. Gives me whiplash most of the time. You’d love him. He plays DnD too. Mostly with his friends.” You scrunch your nose as the smell of the weed hits your senses.

“Sweet. Gotta meet the kid sometime. Teach him a thing or two.” Eddie unconsciously offers the joint your way. Again, this was the last summer of your last year and you were going to make it memorable in any way possible. You reached to take it from him. 

“Shit, sorry.” he pulled his hand back. You rolled your eyes, taking it from him. It’s not like you ever smoked before. It’s just not very often. 

You brought the joint to your lips and pulled. The smoke filled your mouth, the earthy yet subtle-fruity flavor coated your mouth. As you inhaled, a slight tingle sensation hit the back of your throat and burned going down to your lungs, making you cough violently.

“Ah, ya hit it too hard, sweetheart.” he chuckled, taking the ‘J’ from you. Using his other hand to pat your back. “You gotta breathe her in lovingly. Hold her like a lover you don’t want to let go of. Then you just inhale her into your lungs slowly so you won’t choke like you are now.” 

He showed you how he did it. Eddie pressed the end to his pink lips and inhaled agonizingly slow. You watched him in admiration, not being able to take your eyes off his puffy lips. You had the sudden imagining of how they would feel against yours. Your heart skipped at the thought.

He held the smoke for about a second or two. His chest rose as he sucked in more deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs. He lifted his chin and let the smoke swirl across the ceiling of his van. It was mesmerizing. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He nonchalantly leaned back into his hands, his cropped shirt rising a bit, showing off the happy trail that led into his boxers. 

This had triggered something primal within you or something like it: a massive flood of adrenaline (or maybe arousal) shot through your veins like a bullet, giving you goosebumps. Suddenly, the temperature in the van rose, even if the back doors were open. You had to do something about it. 

Without giving it much thought, you hopped out of the van, stripped off your shirt, throwing it behind you. Hitting him square in the face.

“What the…” with Eddie being surprised, he struggled with the shirt for a hot second. Taking this time, you ran towards the water, letting your shorts fall behind you, stepping over them. Standing there in your undies, hands on your hips, you turned to see Eddie’s face twist, hearing a guttural groan from him. “You coming, Munson?” you laughed with a mischievous smirk on your face. 

Without hesitation, Eddie scrambled with his belt buckle while trying to kick off his socks and sneakers. All the while, his chocolate eyes kept on you. Once he was able to unbuckle his jeans, he dropped trou, took a step forward, and tripped. Your mouth agape, a bubble of laughter spewed from your mouth.

Eddie looked up at you with a ferocity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. Granted, this is also the first time you’ve ever really spent time with him, one on one. And it’s at Lover’s Lake, getting zooted out of your minds.

Eddie stood up, ripped his shirt off, and chased you to the waterline. As you reached the shore, you could hear the crunching of his feet against the pebbly ground. When he was finally a few feet away, you screamed with laughter. His arms wrapped around your body and tackled you into the water. The cool water instantly felt amazing on your hot skin as it engulfed you. Holding your breath as he dunked you under, you kicked the space beneath you, legs burning as you tried to find the surface. Finally breaching out of the water, you heaved for air. 

Without giving you a moment, there was a sudden splash to your face. Wiping the water from your face, Eddie clapped at the water again, another rush of water sloshing over you.

“Oh, no you don’t!” You swam over and pounced onto his shoulders to try and dunk him, but failed miserably. 

Your wet hands slipped from his shoulders. Luckily for you, Eddie turned his body the moment you tried to jump him and grabbed you. There was a pregnant pause, still laughing, as he held you a little longer than expected. Both of you stared into each other's eyes with your soaked hair plastered to your rosy cheeks, cool water dripping from your faces. The sunlight reflected upon the water droplets on Eddie making him look like a disco ball. Your breath quickened at his beauty. 

And boy was Eddie fuuucking beautiful! You never realized till now how he had a small number of freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose and the tops of his shoulders. Or how his big, brown, puppy-dog eyes sparkled with the reflection of the sun on the water. Or how his cheeks were flushed red from the bright sun almost making him look like a metal version of Snow White. Then a sudden roaring sound of a jet-ski engine interrupted as they rode by.

“Thanks” You shyly looked away and pressed your palms against his chest to push off of him. Giving him a final splash in the process.

“Anytime, princess.” his tone is a little sullen as you move from him. Eddie's eyes were unwavering from you, lips slightly pouting.

Moments later, the two of you drifted on your backs, lazing about in the lake. The conversation was minimal with the occasional question or two popping up. The effects of the weed now hitting you along with the buzz from the beer. So right now? You were feeling incredible; like you were unsinkable. The water moved around your limbs in swirls, tickling your skin and adding to your already-spaced mind. The sensation of metaphorically floating and physically floating was something. It was like laying in infinity. Everything was light and wispy. The sun on the cool water sparkled brighter, cicadas screamed louder. 

“How are we feeling there, Henderson?” Eddie asked, swimming over to you. You casually lifted your arm out of the water, giving him a thumbs up. It was then your stomach rumbled.

“Burgers,” you replied. 

“Let's get some then.” Eddie chuckled. He flopped back over into the water for one last dip and swam to the shore. You followed. 

The sun hung low across the horizon as you peered over the dashboard, wind flowed through your hair making the dry tendrils whip at your face. With the windows rolled down, your feet hanging out of the passenger side. Out of the corner of your eyes, Eddie was still shirtless as he looked forward at the road, his tongue resting on the top of his lips. His fingers mindlessly tap to the Dio song on the steering wheel. 

Eddie turned his head to give you his signature crooked smile on his sun-kissed face. As your eyes meet, he noticed you tremble. Eddie patted the seat beside him, ushering you to move to him. You did as he silently asked, a warm glow rising up into your face. 

“Come here” He mouthed your name as he pulled you into him. “You’re shivering.” Eddie wrapped his free arm around you. His hand rubs the sides of your arms, making your skin tingle with warmth. You feel Eddie’s breathing stagger beneath you. The constant rise and fall of his breathing lulled you into comfort. You nuzzled your head against his warm chest. Eddie tilted his cheek to the top of your head and pulled you in tighter.

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

As the parking lot filled with students, you looked up to see Eddie on the roof of the cafeteria. His pocket bandana wrapped around his head. One foot leaned on the lip of the roof and his hand hovered over his brow scanning the crowd, making him look like a pirate searching for land.

“EDDIE! ARE YOU NUTS?” you screamed as your arms waved in the air. Eddie caught your attention. You’d never seen his face look so bright. His smile spread ear to ear, teeth showing. 

Robin is still by your side. “What is he thinking? Has he gone clinical?” 

“I… I don’t know.” You clutched at the sleeve of her jean jacket. No air was left in your lungs. Your heart raced with fear. What if he tripped? You couldn’t take it. Eddie was going to be the guy that would be the death of you one day. Like Robin had said, he truly had gone clinical.

Eddie raised his arms to the heavens and professed. “I, EDDIE THE FREAK MUNSON, HAVE HAD HIS HEART STOLEN BY A FAIR AND BEAUTIFUL MAIDEN OF HAWKINS!” Eddie screamed your name, animating his arms wildly towards you. 

You heard the murmured awws and eww’s from the girls surrounding you. The crowd turned their heads to you. You kept your gaze on Eddie trying to avoid the looks of anyone around you.

Time felt frozen; it was you and Eddie. No one else. A never forgotten memory. Maybe a story that would be told at your future wedding or a tale told to your future children. You never saw yourself as the type to think about such things. Especially with everything that has happened in the last couple of years with the Upside Down. You always scoffed at the idea of girls who fantasized about their dream futures with their dream man. But in this fleeting moment, it was an all-consuming thought.

You imagined the both of you owning a small record store on the Lower East side of New York City, near the mecca that was CBGB or living in LA to avoid the harsh winters of Indiana. Perhaps even touring the world with Corroded Coffin. You also envisioned Eddie playing with your kids, pushing them on the swings, or chasing them across the park lawn as they laughed loudly. 

Who knew what this future held now that the floodgates seemed to have opened? Hopefully, nothing world-turning will ever happen again.

“Oh, my god! That is so sweet” One girl said 

“So romantic” another fawned. 

“Who’s he talking about?” another asked.

“DUSTIN! PULL!” Eddie yelled as he lowered his arm and pointed down towards your brother. You looked over to your right to see Dustin, with the rope clutched in his hand. The Hellfire crew stood near him looking at you with the biggest grins on their faces. There was a swift whoosh and a huge white tarp-sized sheet that dropped over the side of the roof. Various little yelps scattered throughout the crowd.

Your eyes focused on the bright sheet, seeing red and black paint splattered amongst it. With a bit more focus, you read what he designed in the red paint.

‘WILL YOU GO TO PROM WITH A FREAK LIKE ME?’ It had been crudely painted with bats flying over a castle tower. 

You couldn’t describe how you felt at that moment. Your body buzzed and your heart leaped within your chest. Your mind went a million miles an hour. Your every thought bouncing wildly in your head like a pinball, making you feel lightheaded. It could also be from all the blood your heart was rapidly pumping through your veins. Your knees wobbled, almost wanting to give out under you.

“WHAT SAY YOU, PRINCESS?” Eddie shouted into his hand.

“Why don’t you ever do anything like that for me?” The girl to your right moaned to her boyfriend. She crossed her arms over her chest and stomped away, leaving her boyfriend with his mouth agape. 

 Random students nudged you on the shoulders for a response.

“Come down!” 

“What are you going to say?” 

“Why haven’t you answered yet?”

“Jump!”

Robin saw the panic in your body language, grabbed your hand, and gave you a reassuring squeeze. You looked down at your hand holding it tight, squeezing her back. While your other hand fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve.

You’ve always suspected that Eddie could be a secret and hopeless romantic. But once again, he always exceeded all expectations. In the back of your mind, you held onto those memories of him at the party, the summer before, and just recently kissing you on the head. 

Your knight in dirty denim.

Looking back up at Eddie, your other hand raised to your mouth and screeched, “GET OFF THE ROOF AND I’LL TELL YOU!” you replied gleefully. 

Eddie jumped from the ledge, causing more yelps from the people, and disappeared. “You’re, obviously, saying yes, right?” Robin leaned into you. You gave her a slight shrug of your shoulders. Looking away, you chewed on your nails in anticipation of Eddie’s return from the roof.

“And you!” You turned a false anger towards Dustin, stomping your feet along the way. His eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. He looked to his left and looked to his right. His friends stepped aside to cower from you. “You knew?!”

“I..I.. uh” Dustin stammered trying to avoid eye contact with you. You prodded your finger into his chest.

“You fucking knew… this whole time?” Your hands landed on his shoulders and shook him. Dustin’s eyes finally dropped to your face and stared at you. His cheeks glowed red as the small crowd watched and laughed as you belittled your little brother.

“We all…” Gareth tried to interrupt.

“Shut it, Gareth,” eyes shooting daggers his way. He could only look away. “I’m talking to him. Explain yourself!” returning your attention to Dustin.

“I mean… Not.. I tried..” for once in his life words faltered from him. “If you j… just opened your door.”

You squint your eyes at him, a smile rising on your face, pulling him in for a surprise hug. Roughly planting kisses all over his curly headed-mop.

“You… kiss… are the... kiss… best… brother…” Dustin tried to push you away, but you overpowered him. “kiss… ever!!”

“Stop!” He continued to struggle as he swatted at you. “It!” A few long moments later, Eddie blasted his way through the cafeteria doors, heavily huffing and puffing. He still kept a smile on his gorgeous face.

‘He really needs to stop smoking.’ you thought.

Eddie was an anxious, sweaty mess as he walked towards you, hands on his hips as he grasped for air. Once again, in this bubble, this moment only belonged to the two of you. As he neared, your pulse raced even more than it was already. You nervously shifted from one foot to the other. When your eyes met, heat filled your cheeks as you chewed the inside of your cheek. You probably looked like a ripe tomato by now. 

“Mr. Munson, Ms. Henderson.” the principal interrupted the moment. “You two, with me, Right! Now!”

[slowpoke-fics]

Sacrifice

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Pack x Reader

Request Summary: You're Scotts twin sister and make a sacrifice for the good of the pack

Warnings: death, panic attack, angst, murder described, death described, reader death; I know for a fact I've missed some and this one is pretty fucking rough, as always read at your own risk.

A/N: This one is angsty, and just a tad longer than normal, consider it my apology to nonnie for taking so damn long on this request. I hope you guys love it, and again, this one is rough, read at your own risk.

You're able to grab one of the fucking resilient demonic ninja's off of Isaac. You could smell his pain, his blood, and you could smell Allisons determination. The second one on Isaac was shot with Allisons arrow, it's glowing green, fighting with the clear pain it's experiencing. With a split decision you're next to Allison, pushing her out of the way, a sharp pain through your chest, and then you're numb.

Allison's face is rampant with fear, her shirt holding a tiny cut that didn't grace the skin. Good, she's okay, and then you're falling.

You don't hit the ground though, your brother, Scott, holding your face with a stray tear falling down his face. You reach up and wipe it away, "It's okay Scotty, it doesn't hurt." Scott chokes back a sob, his hand gently rubbing yours, "Is everyone else okay?" Scott starts to speak, his voice betraying him, sounding mangled, "Yeah, everyone is okay Y/n, you're gonna be okay too." You shook your head, "Not in the way you think I am," Scott finally releases a sob, "no, no, big brother," he tries to laugh, trying to give you a little peace with your joke that even though he's minutes older, he's still older, "it's okay, yeah? Me and you, fighting tooth and nail. This was the best gift I could've ever gotten, I love you, and I love the pack. This is okay." You reach behind him, fingers tangled into his hair, you pull him to you and kiss his forehead. "Don't let them blame themselves, and don't blame yourself," another kiss to his cheek, "I love you big brother."

Scott's memories with you flashes before his eyes as the color in yours goes out, how did we get here?

"Scott! You okay?" You look over his body for injuries, he hisses at you making contact with his torso. "Scott, what's wrong? Did you get bit by something too?" Scott's eyebrows raise, "What do you mean 'too'? Did you get bit?" You roll your eyes and turn around, shirt stained with blood, "Yeah, I managed to get away from the fucker while rolling down some hill, now let me see yours." You swat him away, lifting his shirt and taking a good look at the bite mark, "Okay, not too bad, you fix me up and I'll fix you up? Not a word to mom, got it?" Scott nods, walking with you into the house to take care of the bite marks.

Scott can't feel anything, surrounded by you, your lifeless body. His anger, no, pain, soars through him as his eyes glow, a roar deep within him. The only thing anyone in his pack can hear is the scream from Lydia's lips and the roar of pain from Scott.

Isaac barely notices the sound around him, only his own heartbeat in his ears as he listened to yours fade away.

"Isaac you fucking idiot!" You slapped Isaac on the back of the head, he looks at you with lost, glowing, puppy dog eyes, "Sorry, Y/n." His eyes dull to his normal brown and you frown, "You've gotta do better honey, you can't lose control like that, you'll kill someone and I know that's not what you want." Isaac sits on the metal bench in the locker room, head in his hands, "I don't know that I'll ever be able to."

You sigh, sitting next to him with your hand rubbing his back, "You will, just give it time, until then, you've gotta find something that works for you, something that prevents you from breaking someone fucking ribs Isaac." You voice becomes elevated again towards the end, irritated at Isaac's recklessness. "Yeah," he leans his head down to your shoulder, "I know firecracker."

Scott is blind to the feeling on his bloody hand, only noticing it when Allison's tears hit it. Allison brushes a hair out of your face, you looked peaceful, she's eternally grateful for you, for what you did for her tonight and what you've done for her up until this point.

"Allison, fuck," you huff, pulling yourself up from the ground, "let's do it again, I know that this isn't you, your aim is perfect, let it all go and focus on me okay?" She sighs, shaking the bow in her hand, "Maybe the fact that I could actually hurt you isn't helping." You're eye to eye with her, both hands on her face, eyes glowing, "No, you won't hurt me, I'm invincible remember?" She laughs, shaking her head, "Alright, last time." You grin ear to ear and took off running. Allison brings the bow up, listening to you run. She sees glimpses of you, through the trees, and the arrow is gone. She sighs, she didn't hit you, she's shouting at you "I told you! I can't do it!"

You touch her back, startling her, she lets out a small yelp and turns to you. Her eyes go wide when she sees the arrow sticking out of your shoulder. "Oh, Jesus Y/n," her bow drops and she's bringing her hands up to try and get it to stop bleeding. "Oh quit being a pussy and pull it out," you rolled your eyes, grabbing her wrist and bringing it to the arrow in your shoulder. "I'm so sorry I hit you-" she pulls it out and you let out a long groan, already feeling better with the object dislodged. "Don't be sorry, you hit me, let's do it again." Allisons eyes widen, if that's even possible, and shakes her head, "No, absolutely not." You laugh, "Lighten up buttercup, I'm invincible remember? And this time I'm not going easy." She scoffs at you, "Easy? Oh I see how it is, run little wolf, run." With that, you take off running, Allison laughing at your excitement.

Kira is frozen, she feels like she died, you were her best friend. Over anyone else, you'd been the first to accept her, the first to fight for her, the first one she'd confided in.

"Kira, what the hell are you saying?" You're sitting with your arms crossed at a picnic table, nose in your homework. "I-I know that we were friends first, so I was going to tell you first, before I said any-" You slam your hand one the table, "Kira, baby, spit it out, fuck." This is the you realize that Kira's scent holds fear and anxiety. "Kira, what's wrong?" You're more serious now, waiting for the bomb to drop that there's another fight to be had. "I like Scott, like like him, Jesus please don't be mad." You burst into full laughter, tears streaming from your eyes.

When you calm down Kira is staring at you, piddling with the strings on her sleeves. "Oh, my god," you laugh again, trying to calm yourself. "You're not mad?" You laugh harder, smacking the table a few times, "Jesus Christ no, I can't believe-" you stand up still laughing, hugging her. "I don't give a shit," rubbing her back, "you had nothing to worry about, as long as you don't get mad if I fuck your dad." Kira jerks back, shock on her face, "Y/n!" You laugh harder, "I'm fucking kidding, jeez," you sit back down, "fucking sit down and gush to me about my brother."

She shakes herself out of it when she feels her mother enclose her in a hug. Tears finally falling.

Lydia's scream has finally ended, and she's inconsolable. Memories flooding through her head as she lays her head on an unconscious Stiles.

"Lydia god dammit," you truck to the pool, "did you find another one?" You stop at the strong scent of blood, rushing to Lydia, Stiles right behind you. "Are you hurt?" Lydia shakes her head, staring at you, "I already called 911." Stiles looks hurt, arguing with Lydia over why she should call him before the police, but you push him to the side. "Heya honey," you wrap your arms around her waist, "it's okay, don't listen to Stiles grumpy ass, let's me and you go sit." You're not sure why you aren't phased by the body next to you, but you let Stiles do whatever he needs to do for Scott while you try and get Lydia's head back down to Earth.

"Hey Lyds, dontcha think you're a little overdressed to come to the pool?" She lets out a small chuckle and you relax a little, "This can't be my new normal, Y/n. Finding dead bodies? I can't take this." You hold her hand, sighing, "None of us asked for this Lydia, I'm so sorry. If you want I can stay with you for a few days, follow you if you zonk out again?" Lydia just nods, and she feels for the first time that you're as much her best friend as Allison.

Lydia can't stop crying, Scott is trying to get ahold of himself, Kira is crying with her mother, Isaac is breathless and in pain, and Allison is held by her father.

"She did it for me dad," Allison sobs, her father already made sure she wasn't hurt, "she did it for me and I don't know why." Chris shushes her, running his fingers through her hair, grateful for your sacrifice so his beautiful girl could live. "She did it because she loved you," Allison sobs harder, "I know sweet girl, but listen, we have to deal with this. You can cry, scream, break things later, but now? Now we get our stories straight." Allison nods, and her dad is off to Scott to prep him.

When Stiles finds out, it's like every cell in his body failed him. Scott caught him and pulled him into a hug, tears streaming down his face. "I know. I know brother." Stiles can't breathe, it's been a long time since he's had a panic attack, but here he is, without you, panicking.

"Stiles," you sigh, throwing a ball against his ceiling and back into your hand, sprawled out on his bed, "you've gotta stop." Stiles shakes his head, "No, no there is something here!" He tosses the books to the floor, you get off the bed, wrapping your arms around him from behind, "You'll find it but you're not going to without sleep. Come on." You tug him back to his bed, "Let's nap, and then we'll come back to all," you gesture to his board covered in multicolored string, "this." Stiles sighs heavily, letting you pull him to the bed. It's not the first time, and certainly wouldn't be the last, that you've convinced him to sleep. He crawls in next to you and you throw your arm open, allowing him to lay his head over your heart. He falls asleep to the lull of the thump thump thump.

Stiles shakes himself out of the memory, remembering that he'll never hear that beautiful sound again and vows to hold onto it. He lets out a pained, choked sob, "Scott-" Scotts arms are around him still, Scott can smell the guilt coming off of the small man, "Don't - It was not your fault Stiles. It wasn't anyone's fault." Scott lets Stiles cry, mourn his best friend, the woman he's come to love like his own sister. "Have you told Derek?" Scott sighs, Stiles already knows the answer.

When they get to Derek's place, Derek opens the door, already smelling them and their horribly displaced emotions. "What is it?" Scott lets himself in, Stiles following close behind him and he's checking for his little flame, and when you're nowhere to be found, his heart sinks. "Where's Y/n?" Derek can smell the grief coming off of Scott in waves, not missing the anger that hides beneath it. "Fuck, my little flame," his voice sounds broken, barely audible to the human boy who stares sorrowful at him.

"Derek Hale!" You kick the door open to home, "Derek Hale! Get your ass out here!" Derek almost materializes behind you, but you're just as quick as he is. "Derek Hale! I oughtta kill you, you son of a bitch!" You march to him, taking him off guard by your fist that collides into his face. He's knocked back a couple feet, staring at you with glowing eyes. Your eyes match his, "I am not afraid of your eyes, wolf boy! You turned three people!" Derek shrugs, "So what if I did?" You go for a second punch, this time caught by Derek, he can't smell a single ounce of fear, only fury.

"They knew what they were getting into," Derek lets go of your hand. "Oh, fuck you, Derek," you shove him back, "you can spin that stupid story to whoever you want, but you and I know better." Derek shrugs, "So what? They're better now, stronger, and they like it." You let out a deep growl, "Did you tell them about the death?" You step forward towards him, "Did you tell them how they'd be pulled into every murder in this town?" You shove him back again, following his step backwards, "Did you tell them of the pain? Did you? Of course not." Your hand grasps his chin, squeezing painfully with your claws out, making him look at you, "Hear me Derek Hale and hear me good. If anything," you squeezed him harder, bringing a hiss from him, "and I mean anything, happens to them, I will hurt you." You back away and head out of his house, stopping at his door, "And trust me, I'm a fire you can't put out." He laughs, watching you walk away, but mumbling just where you can barely hear, "I have a feeling I don't want to be burned by your flame."

A growl explodes from his lips, pain filling his entire being. You've been the glue that holds them all together, bringing them back from the brink again and again. How could they survive without you?

Months after your death, they've settled back into the groove of things, nothing ever feels the same without you though.

They talk about you all the time, Stiles has a tendency to try and calm people down like you did. Trying to help keep everyone grounded. He's nowhere near as good at it like you were, but he's trying. Allison keeps your memory around by never changing her lock screen, a picture of everyone in the pack resting on the screen she checks every five minutes. Isaac has found a new anchor, with Scott's help, using himself to be able to control the rage that flurries inside of him after your death. Lydia lives for adopting your fire, absolutely never keeping her mouth shut much to everyone's dismay, but it's a way to keep your image around. Kira has become closer to Allison and Lydia, but she knows they'll never replace you. They don't laugh at her like you did when she talks about Scott, and it's a painful memory. Derek's become much more involved with Scott's pack, dedicated to doing what he can for not fighting by your side the right you died, a debt he'll never repay. Scott finds his peace in his pack, but the hole in his heart for his sister will never fade, like the newly placed fire tattoo on his forearm will never fade.

They are all eternally grateful.

They all know it'll never be the same.

They all hate your sacrifice.

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 2: Right Through You

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

"I'm sorry." It was the last thing Spider-Man said before he swung away, swallowed by the darkness of an alleyway. It was a whimpered choke. Fearful.

"No! Wait--" Tony tried to call, but it was too late. The man was gone. No. Not a man. A fifteen year old. Tony glanced down at his shadow and then back at where Spider-Man had disappeared. Spider-Man was his soulmate. And he was fifteen. Tony had to catch himself against the wall as his chest squeezed painfully tight and his throat closed up in panic, barely managing to mutter out, "Jesus Christ. Fifteen."

That was horrifying on an entirely different level than what had just transpired. Not only had his soulmate flinched away from him and then run off the first chance he'd gotten, he was swinging around the streets of New York and putting himself in danger and he was a kid. Did his parents know? Maybe that was why the kid had run off so quickly. He'd freaked out so horribly when he'd realized the time that Tony had to blink away the horrible memories of his own father with his backhanded slaps and harsh words that had stung even more.

Tony sucked in a cold breath as he stared at the spilled hot chocolate mixing with his own dropped coffee. How often had Spider-Man been hurt? On the street or at home? Suddenly all Tony knew was terror at the implication and newfound knowledge of just exactly who his soul was connected to. Just who the shadow that had been with him for fifteen years really had been. And all he knew was the horrible guilt that he clearly wasn't what his soulmate had been looking for. Could soulmates be wrong? Knowing himself, it was possible.

The mechanic shook his head furiously, forcing himself to stop leaning on the wall and take a deep breath. He'd found his soulmate--sort of--and he wasn't about to just let them go that easily. If he could just have one good conversation, preferably without that mask, about their connection, everything would be okay. Or, it could at least be resolved. If the kid didn't want to know him, didn't want to be his soulmate--well...

Tony sniffed, snatching the cups off of the pavement and throwing them in the trash. He'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

Tony began to make his way back to the tower, his steps slow and stumbled, eyes fixated on his shadow whenever it came into view. After a few minutes, the hood disappeared and fuzzy hair took its place. Well, now he knew why his shadow always looked like they were bald in the afternoon and at night.

"Friday," Tony started, his glasses lighting up at the call of his voice. "I need a full search of the city. As in-depth as you can get it. Follow Spider-Man, look for his identity, and focus on kids born on August tenth, 2001."

"There are six hundred thirteen people born on that day currently living in New York."

"Okay, filter out for boys in Queens. Between 5'7" and 5'9."" He paused, thinking about the fingers that he'd seen through Spider-Man's gloves. "Lighter skin, too."

"I have forty-two possible matches."

"Well, it's better than six hundred," Tony sniffed. "Keep an eye on them, and keep a special eye on Spidey. If he looks like he's in a situation he can't handle, alert me. Or just tell me the next time he pops up."

"Of course, sir," Friday agreed. "What shall I file this under?"

Tony mused for a moment. "Create a new file, and place it on my private server. Name it 'The Itsy Bitsy Spider.'"

Hopefully he'd have a face to that protocol soon.

 ---

  Peter stumbled up to the front door of the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, his breaths quick and furious as he scrambled for a decision. After escaping from Mr. Stark's disappointment, he'd fled across the bridge and eventually found an alleyway to change into where his spidey sense had finally calmed down. Cameras were following Peter now wherever he went as Spider-Man now, he was sure, so he'd had to be painfully and slowly careful. Finding an alleyway out of the sight of any cameras had been simple enough, but it would be relatively easy for Mr. Stark to triangulate his location, so Peter had changed and thrown on a hood and forced himself to become lost in the New York crowd of people on the night shift or party-goers higher than a kite.

So far, the teenager thought he'd managed to get away with it, but he'd have to be more careful about when he went out if he didn't want Mr. Stark to find out who he was. The man already seemed disappointed to find out his soulmate was Spider-Man, he couldn't imagine what realizing it was actually Peter Parker would do to him.

Peter swallowed down the trepidation that bubbled under his skin in boiled anxiety as he shuffled in front of the door to the group home. Maybe Mr. Fowler hadn't realized he was late and he could try and sneak in through the window instead of being caught outside the door. Then again, if he did know, he was likely waiting for Peter to slip in that way and catch him red-handed. The real question was what would end in less punishment?

The teenager's musings were cut short by a spike in spidey sense and the wrenching open of the chipped red door, bringing with it the dangerous stench of stale beer. Mr. Fowler's displeased grin froze Peter to the floor in terror until an outstretched hand reached out and gripped his arm in a vice. "You're late."

Peter held back a wince as he was pulled in through the door, forcing himself to stumble along as the door was slammed shut behind him, rattling the old building. Mr. Fowler dragged him towards the dining room as he rushed to apologize. "Sorry, Mr. Fowler. I--I didn't mean to! I just got caught up on the subway and my phone died and--"

"I've heard that one before," the man snapped. Peter's jaw clamped shut with an audible click. He bit his tongue to keep his feeble excuses from escaping as he was pushed into a chair roughly. The man's hand gripped onto Peter's shoulder painfully tightly, but the liquor on his breath kept the boy glued to the chair more obediently than anything else. "Now where have you actually been, Peter?"

"I-I didn't mean to be late," he tried again. "I was just--"

There was a harsh smack to the back of his head, whipping it forward. Peter winced, but it didn't really hurt, so he forced himself to sit still. He was fine. Mr. Fowler couldn't really hurt him, and even if he did, it didn't matter. Peter would heal. Every bruise he'd ever gotten here had always been gone by the morning.

"Enough with the excuses, Pete," Mr. Fowler ordered. "I just need an answer for the report now that I have to write up your next strike."

Peter flinched. The system at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys was extremely strict. Three strikes and you're out. Peter already had one strike when Mr. Fowler had caught him sneaking an extra snack after dinner. He'd been drunk then too.

Four strikes meant that Peter would be moved to another home for "troubled teens." That he'd attend another school and have to forge a new system of being Spider-Man. And, most importantly, it meant he'd be leaving the younger kids here to Mr. Fowler's wrath by themselves. Peter was the second oldest at the group home of six. Jeremiah was the oldest, but he'd be aging out in barely a month, leaving Peter to try and take care of the others, all no older than twelve.

Peter would heal, they wouldn't. It was as easy as that. But it didn't seem like Peter was going to escape this strike and that he'd have to be careful about even thinking about patrolling for a few weeks. Then again, with Mr. Stark possibly looking for him, maybe it was for the best. And it would just be for a little bit. Just a little bit.

There was a horrible shiver up the teenager's spine, and Peter had to force himself to stay still as there was another slap to his head, this one harder than before. He bit his lip as Mr. Fowler leaned in closer, the staleness of liquor on his breath making the boy's nose crinkle in barely concealed disgust.

"Listen to me when I'm talking to you, son," Mr. Fowler sneered. "Failure to do so can end in another strike, y'know. Two in one day and you'll be shipped off to Jersey tomorrow morning. So?"

Peter took a deep breath through his nose and grit his teeth. He knew what the man wanted to hear. What he wanted to put in Peter's file. It seemed to be a personal pleasure of his to fuck with his file, and all the other boys' really, as much as humanly possible.

"I was out goofing off with some friends. We were smoking and throwing cans at cars and I lost track of time."

Mr. Fowler tutted. "So irresponsible, Pete. I will have to write that up, y'know, and you'll receive the usual grounding. One week. Now why don't you go and head to bed?"

It wasn't a question, so Peter stood shakily and forced himself near the stairs, knowing better than to ask if he'd get some kind of food before he went to sleep. He wouldn't be getting any dinner for the entirety of his grounding anyway. Peter was lucky that he got away without any bruises, instead only escaping with a dull pain in the back of his head.

He slipped up the stairs and into the room he shared with Jeremiah and Tim. Jeremiah had his back turned to Peter, clearly just fixed to keep his head down for the next month, but Tim was sat up straight in bed, bright black eyes staring at Peter in awed worry. The teenager forced himself to look away, instinctively turning to his dull shadow but snapping away from that as well to stare at his bed instead.

"Go to sleep, Tim. You have school tomorrow."

"But, Peter--"

"Go to sleep, Tim," he said again, a little more forcefully this time. Tim stared at him for another painful moment before slipping down under his covers and turning to face the wall opposite Peter. It dragged a stone of guilt into his stomach, but Peter just couldn't at the moment. Even as he changed out of his ratty clothes into even rattier pajamas, the new knowledge of who his shadow really was wouldn't leave.

Peter turned the light off in the hall and closed the door to him and the other boys' room, grateful for the first time in his life to see his shadow disappear. He knew he was being just a little ridiculous, it wasn't like Mr. Stark hated him or anything, at least, Peter didn't think he did. But, well, the teenager was exactly that; a teenager. One that was poor and alone and had superpowers that he used to do little good deeds around his neighborhood. And Mr. Stark was Mr. Stark. The universe had to have been wrong this one time.

And what was worse was that Peter had just run away. He'd acted like an overdramatic romcom character when discovering that their soulmate was the quarterback they hated or something. It was possibly the worst part of all of this.

Peter kept in a sigh as he dropped onto his old mattress, pulling the lumpy covers over himself and squeezed his eyes shut in a half-assed attempt to bully out the pain of hunger in his stomach and the ache of undeserved longing in his heart. He so desperately wanted to be able to know his soulmate, but there was no way that Mr. Stark would be excited to actually know him. Besides, Mr. Stark pushed the Accords, and Peter was an unlicensed vigilante on the street. It was the man's job to find out who he was and turn him in.

Being soulmates didn't change that, even as his vision flashed to show a dark and fancy lab. Well, now he knew why his soulmate had always had such nice stuff.

 ---

"You what?"

"I found my soulmate," Tony snipped. "Keep up, honey bear. You're losing your touch, old man."

Rhodey ignored his comment, still staring at Tony from where he sat on a box in the Avengers common room that was probably filled with either dishes or Avengers gear. Tony passed the colonel a horribly green smoothie that he accepted without complaint, still staring at Tony but this time with a wide smile on his face.

"You really found him? Just walking around Manhattan?" Rhodey asked.

"Well, technically someone was trying to kidnap me, but sure."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"Relax. Everything turned out fine since my soulmate showed up."

Rhodey gave him a look, eyes glancing from the billionaire to the short shadow on the ground. "Your soulmate who is fifteen, saved you from a kidnapping?"

"Well, yeah. But he's got superpowers, so I don't think it was much of a sweat for him."

"Super--who the hell is your soulmate? Is this Twenty Questions? First guess: Ant Man."

"Hardy har," Tony joked. "No, not Lang. It's the spider kid."

Rhodey paused. "You have no idea who he is, do you?"

Tony shrugged, twirling the straw of his own green smoothie for a slight distraction from the fact that his soulmate had flinched and then ran away from him. It had kept him up with an anxiety-filled kind of drive as he'd tried to pick out which of the kid's was his little shadow. He'd only managed to weed out a few of the kids of the forty-something.

"No. He, uh, ran away. Friday's on the job looking for him right now, but he's a slippery one, 'cause, uh, no luck so far."

"I'm sorry, man," Rhodey apologized. "That sucks. Do you...do you know why he ran?"

"Something about a curfew."

"Then maybe he'll be out soon looking for you. Once school is out for the day, of course."

"Yeah. Maybe," Tony agreed, but he thought differently. The shake in the kid's voice, the flinch as he'd ducked away from Tony's hand, and the horrible defensive tenseness when he'd looked away from their switched shadows to look at him. He didn't think Spidey was exactly thrilled, or that he'd be looking for a way to tell the billionaire exactly who he was.

"Any flashes?" Rhodey asked. Tony hummed in confusion. "Since you realized you were soulmates?"

"Oh, uh, just a room last night. I don't know, it was pretty hard to make out." Tony had turned off all the lights in his lab once he'd arrived in it, hoping for some kind of flash of where his soulmate was. It had been reassuring to see the connection still intact, but it wasn't like the dark and bare bedroom had been much help. "I think he has siblings or something. There was another bed in there. Oh, add that to the search engine, Friday."

"Of course, sir. Now down to twenty-eight kids."

Tony smiled. Maybe he was actually getting somewhere.

  ---

"You what?"

"Shut up, Ned," Peter shushed, curling forward in another sit-up to hiss at his best friend who was staring at him in amazement. Ned didn't seem deterred in the slightest, but at least his voice dropped to match Peter's hushed whisper.

"I can't shut up. I'll never be able to shut up again! You met Tony Stark last night! This is the greatest day of my life."

"It really wasn't that big of a deal," Peter lied. He had conveniently left out the part where the billionaire was his soulmate, and considering Ned's reaction of his just meeting the guy, Peter was going to keep that to himself for the time being. Or forever. Whichever came first. Ned continued to stare at him in astonishment, and Peter relented as he curled up again. "Okay, it was pretty cool. He bought me a drink."

"What, like a beer?"

"No, Ned, a hot chocolate."

"Ohhh. That makes more sense."

"Yeah," Peter agreed. "And keep it down. Please? I don't need anyone thinking I drank last night. Mr. Fowler already put a new load of bullshit on my record and you know all the teachers get updates on the shit I do."

Ned's eyes darkened. "He gave you another strike?"

"Yeah," Peter panted, curling up faster as anxiety pumped underneath his skin. "My fault. Stupid. Shouldn't have been late."

"How late were you?"

"Like, ten minutes I think."

Ned spluttered, "But it was just ten minutes!"

"Mr. Fowler's a rule stickler," he half-truthed. Ned didn't need to know how shitty his group home leader was. "I'll just have to be more careful for a while and get back on his good side." Like Mr. Fowler had a good side. "It'll be fine in another week or two."

Ned clearly wanted to protest more, his friend was always so suspicious of Mr. Fowler and so insistent that Peter should just tell the man that he was Spider-Man and that he was helping people. Well, Ned thought they should tell everyone that he was Spider-Man, clearly thinking that it would help him get away with late assignments or missing curfew, but really it would only succeed in him getting arrested. Besides, now that Mr. Stark might be looking for him, he was determined more than ever to keep his identity safe.

Coach Wilson passed by, complementing, "Looking good, Parker."

Peter slowed down, faking a tired grimace and just wishing with every fiber of his being that PE would be over soon.

"So I guess that's a no on Liz's party, then?" Ned asked. Peter turned away from watching Coach Wilson walk away to stare at his friend.

"Liz is having a party?"

"Yeah? She talked about it last decathlon practice. Were you not paying attention?"

"I guess not. My bad," he mumbled. "Is it tonight?"

"Yeah, but you're probably in trouble aren't you?"

"Yeah," Peter agreed, thinking about the dinner he was going to miss tonight. Then again, if he went to the party, not only would Liz be there, but there'd probably be some snacks too. "But my curfew doesn't change."

"It doesn't?"

"I don't think it ever will. Like I said, Mr. Fowler is a stickler for rules, and the curfew is his favorite. It's completely unmovable in his mind."

"Weird."

"Yeah. He's pretty strange," Peter agreed. "So, what time tonight?"

"Seven, I think. And anyway, remember my idea about telling everyone that you're--"

"No, Ned. We're not telling people that I'm--" he lowered his voice dramatically, "--that I'm Spider-Man."

Ned pouted. "Fine. But could you, I don't know, appear as Spider-Man?"

"What? Why?"

"C'mon! Think about how cool it would be if you dropped down and were like, 'Hey, Ned! Whattup? Where's my buddy, Peter? 'Cause we're besties and I'm a cool superhero!' Wouldn't that be cool!?"

Peter stared.

"Ned, literally no one cares about Spider--"

"Now, see, for me, it would be F Thor, marry Iron Man, and kill Hulk," came the voice of the girl's sitting on the bleachers. Peter and Ned turned to listen.

"Well, what about the Spider-Man?" Charles asked.

"It’s just Spider-Man," Betty replied. Peter raised an eyebrow at Ned in a way that meant, See?

"Did you guys see the bank security cam on YouTube? He fought off four guys," Liz argued, her voice climbing just a little higher. Peter's eyes widened.

"Oh my God, she’s crushing on Spider-Man."

"No way."

Liz shrugged, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. "Kind of?"

Peter turned back to Ned. "Yeah. Okay, sure, I'll bring the suit."

  ---

"Thank you, Mrs. Leeds!" Peter called, waving at the woman through her beat up green Toyota. She waved back at him and Ned with a cheery smile.

"See you two boys later! I'll be back at nine to make sure you're home on time, Peter."

"Thank you!" he said again as she drove off.

"Bye, Mom!" Ned said. There were a few looks sent their way, but Peter didn't really care. Even when Flash liked to humiliate him in front of the other kids at school, Peter never felt more than surface level embarrassment. He was past the point of caring about high school drama, but Ned ducked his head nervously, readjusting his new hat. His friend turned to him and whispered, "Dude, you have the suit right?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Peter gestured to his backpack. "Yeah."

"This is gonna change our lives," Ned squeed as they stepped up the driveway. Liz had a large house on a well-lit street in the suburbs. He could see even more colorful lights inside, just as bright as the music was, and anxiety rolled in his chest. He didn't care about what other people thought of him, he really didn't, but he couldn't stop the nerves at such an unfamiliar environment.

Peter stared down at his shadow on instinct, searching for comfort in the familiar fluffy hair. Catching himself, he forced himself to turn away and stare forward as he stepped through the door behind Ned.

He almost stumbled back as the noise hit him. There was the movement of chatter and the blaring of shitty and loud music. Peter stared as some girls walked past, swallowing nervously as his gaze went from them, to Flash DJ-ing, and then landing on Michelle, who glared at them as she spread jam on a piece of toast.

"Can’t believe you guys are at this lame party," she said. Peter frowned in confusion.

"But you’re here too," Ned said, confused hesitation taking up his voice.

"Am I?" And then she stalked away. Peter and Ned glanced at each other in confusion.

Ned recovered first, tapping his backpack. "Okay, anyway, we’re gonna have Spider-Man swing in, say you guys are tight, and then I get a fist bump or one of those half bro-hugs and--"

"Oh, my gosh!"

Ned was cut off as Peter turned away from him to look at Liz. Redness flushed onto his cheeks as she approached them with a wide smile and a red cup in her hand.

"Hey, guys. Cool hat, Ned."

"Hi, Liz," Ned said with a wave.

"Hi, Liz," he said, cursing himself as his voice broke immediately.

"I’m so happy you guys came. There’s pizza and drinks. Help yourself."

Peter's stomach rumbled at the thought, but he forced it down with a smile and a warbled, "What a great party."

"Thanks," Liz smiled. There was the shattering of glass, making her turn sheepishly. "Oh, I... My parents will kill me if anything’s broken. I gotta--"

"Yeah."

"Have fun," she said, hurrying away. Ned turned to him furiously, gesturing to where the senior had left.

"Dude, what are you doing? She’s here. Spider it up."

Like a flip had been switched, Peter remembered that Iron Man was probably looking for him. No way he could get away with showing himself at a high school party. This would be all over social media in barely an hour. "No, no, no. I can’t... I cannot do this. Spider-Man is not a party trick, okay? Look, I’m just gonna...be myself."

"Peter, no one wants that."

"Dude," Peter snapped, but even as he walked away, he knew it was true. He thought of the image of Mr. Stark's face when he'd realized they were soulmates.

Now more than a little out of it, the teenager finally made his way through the house, searching desperately for wherever the pizza was. He didn't make it very far down the hall when there was the screech of his name over a microphone.

"Penis Parker, what’s up?!" Flash yelled over the microphone. People turned to stare at Peter and Ned, sneers or sympathetic smiles decorating their faces. Peter tensed, glancing over to Ned. "Thought you were stuck at the group home! And didn't you know you were supposed to dress nicely for a party?"

Ned gave Peter a look, and that was how the superpowered teen ended up on the roof in his shitty superhero costume with his mask in hand as he chewed his lip in jittered fear.

"Hey, what’s up?" he said in a deepened voice, grabbing his mask from the bag and straightening it out. "I’m Spider-Man. Just thought I’d swing by and say hello to my buddy Peter. Oh, what’s up, Ned? Hey, where’s Peter, anyways? He must be around..." Peter sighed, dropping his hands and digging his fingers into the mask as his brows furrowed. "God, this is stupid. What am I doing?"

Peter stared from the roof down at where Ned was waiting, looking around anxiously, his friend's shadow bright underneath the lights. He glanced out of the corner of his eye down at where his own was scrunched beside him, wondering what Mr. Stark was doing right now. Maybe he was doing cool Iron Man stuff in the lab he'd had a flash of. Maybe...maybe he was wondering what Peter was doing too.

Just as he was about to sigh about how unlikely that was, there was the sound of a distant crash and a plume of bright blue. He began to push himself up, leaning forward to try and get a better look at the thing as his senses rang.

"What the hell?"

Peter stuffed on his mask and swung away, making his way through the neighborhood. After running across an embarrassingly long golf course, the sprinklers biting against his skin with the freezing water, he finally arrived at where he'd seen the blue smoke. Spider-Man dipped himself low, clinging to a small bridge and popping his head around the corner.

There were three men, a broken down old car, and a classic kidnapper white van. Peter watched as one guy whooped at the explosion that burst out from the weapon in his hand against the car. The two other men cringed back as he flinched at the bright light. The man returned to the van, putting the gun down and grabbing another one. It looked extremely similar to the one that had been used against Mr. Stark last night.

"Now, this is crafted from a reclaimed sub-Ultron arm straight from Sokovia. Here. You try."

The guy passed the weird arm-gun to the man with curly hair, who examined it in confused disdain. "Man, I wanted something low-key. Why are you trying to upsell me, man?"

"Okay, okay, okay. I got what you need, all right?" the guy placated, moving back to look through the van. "I got tons of great stuff here. One sec. Okay, I got, uh, black hole grenades, Chitauri railguns..."

"You letting off shots in public now? Hurry up," the tallest one warned. He stepped up to the curly haired guy. The buyer, Peter guessed. "Look, times are changing. We’re the only ones selling these high tech weapons."

"Oh, so this is where bad guys are getting their stuff," Peter whispered to his shadow out of habit. He shook his head, glaring forward and away from where Mr. Stark's silhouette extended.

"I need something to stick up somebody. I’m not trying to shoot them back in time," the buyer complained.

"I got anti-grav climbers," the guy at the van suggested. That seemed to finally get the third man's attention.

"Yo, climbers?"

And then, of course, Peter's phone rang. Immediately guns were drawn, clicking towards the buyer as Peter tore his phone out of his pocket, almost swearing as he caught sight of Ned's caller ID and shutting it off.

"Okay, what the hell was that?"

"Did you set us up?"

"Hey, hey, man."

His senses ringing, Peter dropped from the bridge, catching the men's attention. "Hey! Hey, come on. You gonna shoot at somebody, shoot at me."

"All right."

The gun clicked towards him. Peter shot a web, tearing the gun away, and then ran forward. His senses spiked and then pain jolted through Peter as something bright smashed against his face. It launched the teenager straight into the leg of the bridge, the concrete crumpling under his force. He groaned in pain, forcing himself onto his elbows.

"What the hell?" he muttered. The revving of an engine tore his head to where the van was beginning to drive off. He shot a web to the back of the van, attempting to stick to the ground but only succeeding in being dragged away and onto the harsh road, eliciting a surprised yelp from the high schooler.

Spider-Man shot another web in an attempt to right his balance, gritting his teeth as the road tore at his skin. The van dragged him around, swerving intentionally and smacking Peter through at least five trash cans before finally losing him into a pillar of solid brick. He groaned in pain even as he pushed himself to his feet and shot another web. It attached to the door, ripping it to the ground with a metal screech. Peter threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Great! Guess I'm gonna have to take a shortcut."

Peter leaped over a car into a yard and then a few more yards. At least there was a cute dog, but he wished he'd had more time to play with it.

The superhero stumbled along after scaring a couple of girls--his bad, but they'd get over it eventually. Hopefully--diving over a fence and skimming over a pool in a crowd of people that stared at him in gawked surprise. He called, "Great movie!" before swinging up with a tree and landing just a little too hard on a nearby roof. He panted heavily even as he kept going. He caught sight of the white van.

"Almost got you," he said to himself. "Thought you got away from me, didn’t you? I got you right where I want you. Surprise!"

Finally close enough, Peter leaped from the roof. His spine shivered, his hairs raised, and his heart leaped in fear as metal claws clamped down around him. Peter screamed hoarsely, twisting in midair as he was propelled away from the ground at a frightening speed. "AgH! What the hell!!??"

Peter barely took in the large wings, instead focusing on digging his hands around the metal claws clenched around his ankle. Whoever the bird guy was, he certainly didn't appreciate it. Haunting green eyes met Peter's wide white. His heart beat rapidly. How high up was he? The ground below looked so tiny. At least there was water under him.

And then he wasn't so thankful as the metal digging into his feet released all of the sudden. Peter screamed as he fell, twisting in midair as he searched desperately for an escape. The water underneath him grew closer and closer and there was nothing for Peter to grab onto. Nothing to web. Oh no, oh no, oh no oh no oh no--

Peter slapped against the surface. All the air was forced from his lungs as he was carried under by the lapping waves.

 ---

  "Sir--" Friday started. Tony didn't look up from where he was writing out code that he'd been pouring over for hours, going through every idea and web combination imaginable.

"Please don't turn down my music, honey," Tony said, swiveling in his rolly chair and wheeling over to the table where the webs he was in the process of replicating were beginning to formulate. He was on his fourth attempt now, and he was getting close. "I'm working."

"I am operating under the Itsy Bitsy Spider protocol."

Tony readjusted his glasses, turning away from where he was stirring the sticky formula to glance at the hologram of the suit. He'd been wondering when the kid would show up again. He hadn't been out all afternoon. "Yeah? What's up?"

In response, Friday popped up a video. It was clearly shot through a phone, shakily recording the kid skimming off of a pool before launching himself in the air. It dragged an amused smile from Tony, but it dropped as the next video played.

This one was clearly a security camera from the suburbs. The video was only a couple seconds long as a shuddering white van sped past the house, smoke flying from behind it. There was a bright purple shot and then Tony finally managed to catch sight of the bright red and blue suit being dragged along. Tony turned to his shadow, staring at where the hood was pulled up.

"What the hell have you gotten yourself into now, kid?" he asked it. "How old is this video?"

"Barely a minute."

Tony glanced at the unfinished suit and then back at the video playing on a loop. He guessed the suit would have to wait.

"Get me Mark Forty-Eight and take me to where this video was taken. Quickly, dear."

The suit activated across the room, stepping out of its case and allowing for Tony to be covered by it. The screen lit up immediately, his path highlighted to where the nearest window had opened. Tony shot out into the New York night, his heart beating rapidly. The kid had to be okay, right? He probably dealt with weird shit all the time.

The thought didn't stop the mechanic from being nervous. The kid was fifteen after all. He wasn't exactly equipped for this kind of thing.

It took barely a couple of minutes for Tony to arrive at the street where the video had been taken. There was a burn mark on the road, but no Spidey, and no sign of that van. He hovered, scanning for where the kid could be.

"Heat signatures, Fri. Give me something to work with."

His screen lit up, orange and red figures milling about in houses. There were a few people walking streets over, a car roving by slowly, a clash of body heat that made him think of a party, and a red dot hurtling out of the air ever closer to the river. Wait--

Tony fixated on where the red dot was slowly approaching the water, his heart pounding. "What is that? Friday, zoom in."

The video clipped towards the red dot, and Tony gasped as he recognized a body twisting through the air. And not just any body.

Spidey.

His thrusters whined before forcing the suit forward towards the dot that had disappeared from view. He turned in air, hovering over the body of water, before glancing down with a fearful swallow. A heat signature was illuminated.

"Kid," he gasped.

Tony dove down immediately and broke through the water's surface. It was dark underneath, but he could make out where the kid was. He wrapped his metal arms under the kid's armpits before shooting back into the blissfully cold air.

"I've got you, kid. I've got you."

Spidey didn't respond.

Ch 1 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

[lemonpeter]

STARKER, by Peter B. Parker

Chapter 6: Honeymoon

A/N: did we really write 6k words of p*rn and sugar baby fantasies?? yes we did.

also bloo is a 7 year old, so here is the link to peter’s shorts (it’ll make sense near the end)

Warnings: nff, daddy k*nk, brief somnophilia (and minor under discussed k*nk with that), brief choking, sugar baby-esque relationship

Masterlist ao3

————

When Peter woke up, the first thing he registered was the feeling of a warm, thick erection pressed up between the bare cheeks of his ass. A soft whine left his mouth as his belly flipped, his own cock stirring against his thigh. His back arched into the touch, grinding back against his husband’s dick.

His hole twitched wantonly and he paused, waiting to see if his movements caused any reaction in the older man. Turning his head slightly, he strained for a moment as he looked at Tony’s sleeping face.

The bearded man’s mouth was open slightly and a soft snore escaped him under the teen’s watch. His hand, which was resting limply on Peter’s hip, twitched and he pushed his body a bit closer to the warmth in front of him.

Peter bit back a groan at the sensation of the velvety flesh gliding across the skin of his crack, slick with residual cum and lube. He could tell that he was still open and loose from the night before, could he just- he could just slip it inside, right? It would be so easy. All he had to do was tilt his hips the right way and it would be in, filling him up.

Maybe...maybe just the tip? He was sure Tony wouldn’t mind. They hadn’t exactly...talked about it, but it had never been mentioned as a limit. (Not that they’d had that conversation-)

Biting his lip, he reached back behind him to stroke the hot, rigid organ a few times. It was heavy in his palm, and just feeling the thick weight of it there made a shiver run through him. He paused his actions to use one hand to pull his cheeks apart so he could run his pointer finger over his puffy rim, sucking in a breath when the tip of the digit breached him with almost no resistance.

He pushed a little and then his finger was truly sucked in, muscle clenching below the second knuckle. A soft keening noise filled the air and Peter tried desperately to resist the urge to crook his finger and press against his prostate.

Somehow he managed to hold himself back, slowly sliding the digit out until his opening was twitching around air once more.

Checking again for any signs of consciousness, he shifted his hips and nudged Tony's ankle with his big toe.

Nothing.

Peter took it as a sign. He again grasped the man's erection in his hand and brought the head to his hole. He let it rest there for a moment before pushing his hips back, the tip making its way inside easily. There was a bit more resistance once the flare of the head was inside, but the teen persevered, whimpering slightly until it was inside him, along with the majority of Tony's cock.

It felt so good, the stretch and fullness causing liquid flame to pool behind his belly button.

He started thrusting softly, canting his hips back to get some friction inside him and spitting into his hand before reaching for his own neglected dick. The sensation caused his muscles to tighten their grip on his husband, who began to stir in response to the stimulation.

“Mmmm. Baby...wha’s goin’ on,'' Tony slurred, still not fully awake. “Was havin’ a good dream…” He blinked groggily, trying to rouse himself from the sleep-induced haze that was clouding his mind. Moaning softly, his hand tightened on Peter’s hip as he realized that the pleasure he was feeling had nothing to do with the remnants of his dream. “Fuck, Pete, Jesus-”

A whimper left Peter’s mouth at the sound of the older man’s raspy morning voice cursing at him. “I couldn’t w- I couldn’t wait, Daddy, needed you. Needed your cock,” he mewled, clenching around Tony’s erection.

“Yeah, baby boy? You needed Daddy’s cock inside you so bad you couldn’t even wake me up first? Had to take it for yourself, didn’t you,” Tony growled deep in his throat, hot breath ghosting over the shell of Peter’s ear. His hand tightened where it was clutching the teen’s waist while the other moved to grip at the pale expanse of his throat. “Daddy’s greedy little thing.” Without any warning, he snapped his hips forward so that his entire cock was sheathed in the boy’s quivering hole, buried to the root.

“Yeeeesssss,” Peter cried, drawing the word out as he threw his head back in pleasure. “Please, Tony- Daddy, please.”

“What, what is it, Pete? What do you need- Tell me, baby, I’ll give you whatever you want. You know that.” His lips skimmed across the sensitive skin just below Peter’s ear, tongue peeking out briefly.

Peter mewled at the sensation, surprised at how good it felt and desperately wanting more. “Just- just need you to fuck me,” he breathed, leaning his head back against Tony’s shoulder. “Please. Need you.”

Tony hummed softly, his hand around Peter’s throat tightening slightly as he flexed his fingers. “Do you, now? Even after everything we did last night?” He nipped at the skin over Peter’s jugular.

He would gladly do anything that his husband wanted. It just seemed like a wonder to him that Peter was up for anything at all. They’d had a long, eventful night. He had to be at least a little sore.

Little did he know that the younger man was relishing the feeling of his rim stinging slightly as the motions of Tony’s cock tugged at it. The pain meant it was real.

“Yes! Please, Daddy,” Peter whimpered, eyes slowly slipping shut at the way Tony’s hand tightened. It was just pressure, not affecting his breathing in the slightest, but it was incredibly effective. The sign of possession was obvious, only aiding in making him that much hornier.

Maybe one day he’d get Tony to choke him for real, to cut off his air supply and keep him at his mercy.

The older man nodded, taking the opportunity to slowly start thrusting his hips in earnest. His cock slid easily from the teen’s hole before he was pushing in again, creating a quick but fairly-gentle pace. Just how Peter liked it. He felt owned and cherished at the same time.

He felt loved.

Peter slowly moved his hips in tandem with the larger man’s thrusts, keeping up with the pace and fucking back onto Tony. He knew neither of them were going to last long this early in the morning, but that was okay. As long as they both felt good.

Tony groaned behind him, his hot breath ghosting against Peter’s skin. “That’s it, baby. Is this good?” His hand on Peter’s waist started slipping lower, curving over the teen’s hipbone and settling there for the moment.

“It’s so good, Daddy, thank you,” Peter moaned, clenching around Tony’s cock as he kept moving. “You’re so big, makes me feel so good. ‘M so full.” His cheeks burned as he talked, but he let himself say the words. No need to be embarrassed when there wasn’t anyone else to hear him.

The one person who could hear had a visceral reaction, hips stuttering for a moment. “And you’re- god, you’re so tight,” Tony ground out, biting down on his lip. “Squeezing me like that. It’s almost like you’re still a virgin, fuck.” He groaned low in his throat.

They definitely wouldn’t be lasting long.

Peter shivered at the words, rolling his hips back again. The fire behind his belly was spreading, the tension growing closer to snapping. His erection slapped against his stomach, and he whined at the small bit of friction. It wasn’t enough.

Tony’s hand on the boy’s hip finally moved to wrap around his weeping cock, slowly pumping him in time with his thrusts. “Here, baby, here you go.” The strokes were slick, aided by the pre-cum that had dribbled out from Peter’s slit to run down the ruddy shaft.

The teen started, pelvis jerking forward rather than pushing backwards, fucking into the channel that Tony’s hand created. “Oh! Oh, yes, Daddy,” he moaned louder, breathing hard. “Thank you- oh!”

Tony’s cockhead brushed against Peter’s prostate without warning, causing his entire body to jerk and tremble with the shock of pleasure. “Oh, Daddy, please, don’t stop! I need-,” He cried, breath hitching.

Tony groaned quietly, his movements speeding up as he listened to the wrecked, breathy noises Peter was making with each thrust. “Won’t stop, baby, don’t worry. I’m not stopping, never gonna stop fucking this pretty little hole.”

Peter’s cock twitched in the man’s grip, signaling how close he was getting to his orgasm. A little embarrassing, given the short amount of time they’d been going, but he couldn’t help it. He was still new to being touched, and being fucked by Tony was otherworldly in terms of pleasure. Even the slightest touch from him was so much better than anything he’d ever felt before.

His husband could tell the boy was almost there, but he wasn’t far behind himself. Tony just kept moving, fucking into Peter and drinking up the wonderful sounds he made while at the same time trying to hold off his own release. He had to satisfy his baby first, no matter how good he felt.

“Oh- fuck, Tony,” Peter moaned, gasping softly. “I’m- I’m gonna cum, Daddy. Gonna, gonna cum.” His hips jerked, movements becoming erratic as the fire in his belly started burning through the rest of his body. He was so close he could practically taste it.

“Cum for me, baby, it’s okay. You can cum,” Tony encouraged through clenched teeth. He didn’t stop, keeping his movements as consistent as he could, knowing that a steady rhythm was a sure way to send Peter over the edge once he was close. But he felt his own high approaching quickly, every thrust inching him closer.

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself be lost in the pleasure before opening them again. He wanted to watch Tony’s hand on him as he came, wanted to see the way the man very literally gave him his release.

The teen’s dark eyes trailed over his own lithe body, taking in how every muscle was tense with how close he was to his high. Then, just a little lower, was his cock. Flushed pink and still leaking over Tony’s fingers. His husband’s hand moved quickly, helping him get that much closer. Always helping him. “Tony...”

“Cum, baby,” Tony murmured. It wasn’t quite a command, but the intent behind it was clear. He was giving the younger man permission. Like a gift. “C’mon Peter, cum for me.”

Peter cried out again, taking the words for what they were, hips jerking once, twice more before he was cumming. “Oh, fuck!” He spilled onto the bed, cock twitching in Tony’s grip as he rode out his high.

Tony kept fucking him through it, moaning softly at the clenching of the boy’s asshole as he watched Peter’s cum dripping onto his hand. “My messy baby...shit, you’re perfect.” He took his hand off of him when he whined in overstimulation, but didn’t stop fucking him. “Can Daddy cum too, fill up your little hole, baby? Or do you want me to stop?”

“No, don’t stop. I want...want you to feel good too,” Peter whispered, hiccupping slightly as he lay there limply, still somewhat lost in the aftershocks. He clenched down weakly, trying to make things tighter for Tony. From the noise he got in return, he felt like it worked how he wanted it to.

“I won’t take long, baby, promise.” Tony moved his hand down from Peter’s neck, shifting so that both hands were on his hips. That way he could pull him easier, fuck him back onto his cock. “You feel so sweet around me, you know that baby? I’ve never felt anything so- fuck, so perfect.”

Peter preened at the words, taking it as praise. “I want you to feel good, Daddy.” He rocked his hips softly, gasping when the head of Tony’s cock brushed against his prostate again, this time just for a second. “Just want to make you feel good.”

“You do, Pete, you make me feel so good, honey.” A choked moan pulled itself from his throat as he felt his balls tightening, drawing close to his body. “Shit, baby, I’m almost there.”

“Cum, Daddy,” the teen whispered with this wrecked voice, strained from all the noise he had been making. “Fill me up with your cum, add to what’s already in me. Can you feel the cum you put in me last night?” He sighed, his own spent cock twitching between his legs at the words. “Want you to make a mess in me, Daddy. It’ll keep me ready for you later.” He bit his lip gently, looking up at Tony as best he could.

“Fuck, Peter,” Tony groaned. The sight of the teen’s big brown eyes blinking up at him as he said such dirty things did him in. His hips stuttered to a stop as he buried himself deep in the slick channel. “Here you go, baby, fuck.”

Peter felt the warmth flooding him as Tony came, every spurt pulling a quiet moan from his mouth. “Oh, Daddy….” He pushed back slightly, lazily grinding against his husband. “Thank you,” he said sweetly.

The older man rode out his high, breathing heavily as he curled close to Peter. He didn’t even pull out, just kept his softening cock inside of the teen.

“I love you, baby,” Tony whispered in Peter’s hair as he held the smaller man to his chest.

Sighing softly, Peter pressed a kiss over his husband’s rapidly beating heart in return, then he craned his neck to brush his lips over Tony’s adam’s apple. “I love you too.”

The pair stayed there for a while, tangled in the luxurious white sheets and simply holding each other in the afterglow. Peter was running his fingers through Tony’s salt and pepper locks and gazing at him affectionately when the older man spoke up.

“Let’s get a shower, sweetheart. We’ve got plans today.”

“Oh?”

“You’re officially a Stark, baby boy. And now, it’s time for you to see exactly what comes with that.”

***

Peter munched on a granola bar, frowning at the truly absurd amount of crumbs that fell to his lap with every bite.

The EDITH glasses sat beside him, folded blue lenses glinting in the fluorescent lights of the training room.

He hadn’t necessarily meant for things to go quite how they had. None of it was supposed to go this far.

He’d just wanted more time with Tony. That was all. Just a few moments together to give himself some type of closure, to patch the gaping hole in his chest.

It had spiraled so fast from there, though.

Absently rubbing his thumb over his ring finger, Peter made an unhappy noise at the feel of the bare skin. A sick feeling curled in the pit of his stomach as he ate, looking down at his hand. He wanted his ring. But he had to eat first, in order to satisfy the desperate growling of his stomach that had finally gotten his attention, before he could let himself go back into the illusion.

Back to his husband.

In the silence, he let himself fall back into his thoughts.

He was on his honeymoon with Tony, something he’d once thought he would never experience. Things could go any way, exactly as he wanted them to.

But what did he want?

He figured that the change in wedding scenery was proof that he wasn’t completely giving in to what were his most true desires, even if he wanted the things he’d had in mind on some level. It seemed that even if he wasn’t able to be completely honest with himself yet, the STARKER program had no such qualms about accessing the deepest parts of his brain, where the things he hadn’t admitted to himself resided.

A pleasant heat curled in his belly as he thought about what Tony had last said. The implications of the obscene amount of money that he was now entitled to. As though the luxury of their hotel wasn’t enough.

As though the luxury of Tony wasn’t enough.

Peter couldn’t deny that he’d thought about being spoiled in such a way. Growing up with so little, it was a dream to be able to just spend money without any care or reservations. And being with Tony made that easily attainable.

The illusion gave him the perfect opportunity to finally indulge in his sugar baby-esque fantasies. With his new husband, the man who vowed to take care of him, to never let him want for anything ever again.

Definitely something he could get used to.

Nothing could stop him from being treated like a princess and pampered to his heart’s content. He could go anywhere he wanted, do anything he wanted. He could have anything he’d ever wanted (or, as he was learning, never knew he needed.)

The boy thought he deserved a bit of that, at least for a little while. At least in his own mind.

No matter what he did, it was okay. There were no ‘real world’ repercussions (although he really didn’t like thinking of it that way.)

And following that logic, he couldn’t get in trouble no matter what he did with his Tony.

That little fact had definite implications. It meant that the possibilities were endless, there were no limits other than his own imagination. And he had every intention of taking advantage of that to do all of the things he had dreamed of experiencing.

After all, who was there to stop him?

Peter finished off his granola bar with a few more crumbly bites, tucking the empty wrapper into his backpack with the others when he was done. He dug through the bag for his water bottle, taking a few small sips before putting that away as well.

Brushing the crumbs off of his lap, he looked down at the glasses. He was so happy with all the things he’d done already. He’d gotten to not only see Tony; he’d been intimate with him, and introduced the man to his family, and married him.

And all he saw in his future was more. More sex, more love, more happiness. Everything he’d ever wanted and so much more than that.

He reached for the glasses, fingers closing around the cool metal as he pulled them closer. Then he put them on again, taking a deep breath as he prepared to enter the illusion.

All it took was a little focus and there he was again, wrapped up in the covers. With his love, somewhere that no one could take them away from each other.

***

They’d already stopped at a few places, spending what was truly an obscene amount of money. But it didn’t matter. Peter was able to get everything he wanted and Tony didn’t even bat an eye or so much as glance at the price tags. He was happy to watch the way the younger man's eyes gleamed with each purchase.

Their next stop was another one he figured Peter would like. Hopefully it would be a good surprise.

Peter stared up at the storefront, mouth wide as he took in the name. La Perla. A squeal left his mouth before he could stop it, followed by a soft blush spreading over his cheeks. He tried not to jostle the iced latte he held in his hand, lest he spill it on the floral-patterned red silk of his airy button-up top. “Are you serious?!”

Tony just smirked and raised his brows, eyes shielded by the lenses of his expensive sunglasses. Peter thought he definitely looked the part in his charcoal three-piece Tom Ford suit and Gucci oxfords. The silver in his hair seemed more prominent today, catching the light of the mid-morning sun.

But not even his Daddy’s beauty could sidetrack him for long.

“Oh my god,” Peter breathed, a grin overtaking his face as he clutched excitedly at the older man’s hand, fingers skimming over the watch that wrapped around his wrist. It was a nice complement to the thin, dainty chains that hung from his own neck and draped down into his shirt. “Let’s go, let’s go!” He tugged at Tony’s arm, pulling him along as he made a beeline for the large glass doors, nearly skipping in the Louboutin derby shoes he had picked out earlier.

Tony followed happily, watching the way the denim of Peter’s darkwash jeans hugged his ass.

And he continued watching, eyes never straying as Peter paraded through the store.

The young man’s eyes glided over racks full of lingerie and he grabbed at various pretty things in all sorts of styles and colors. Sheer, lacy bralettes and miniscule pieces of fabric stitched together to make a thong practically jumped at him. Elegant babydolls seemed to call his name as he pulled them into his arms. He looked at a sheer robe, the deep blue color catching his eye. He picked it up before scanning the racks again.

Everything was soft and dainty, things he desperately wanted to wear. He wondered how much of it Tony would like to see him in.

Hopefully all of it.

His fingers rubbed over the silk edging of the robe he’d picked before something else caught his eye. A flash of deep red and something sparkly.

“Daddy, look! It’s your color,” Peter cried, clutching a strappy garnet...something to his chest. Tony could see rhinestones - or likely actual gems - glittering on it.“We’ve gotta get this!”

The older man just smiled at him, eyes twinkling behind his shades.

He’d created a monster.

***

Throwing himself belly-down across the bed, Peter let out a groan. He toed off his shoes, which probably cost as much as some people’s rent, letting them drop to the floor without a care as he flexed his socked feet. “I’m tired,” he whined, pouting up at Tony playfully. One of his hands toyed with the end of one of his necklaces, the delicate ‘t’ charm hanging there.

The older man just chuckled as he shut the door to the hotel room and locked it before bending over to pick up the bags from the floor, giving Peter a glorious view of his ass in the tailored pants of his suit. There were at least ten of the bags scattered on the carpet, all of varying sizes and colors. “I bet you are- you spent a lot of money today. It’s hard work, ain’t it, baby?”

Peter huffed out a laugh of his own. He turned to nuzzle his face into the cloud that was the down comforter. Letting his eyes close, he sighed and burrowed into the cozy warmth. “What time is it? Can I take a nap?” His voice was muffled but he couldn’t be bothered to turn his head.

Looking down at his wrist, Tony moved the cuff of his suit jacket so he could squint at the face of his watch. “It��s almost three.” He paused and thought for a moment before opening his mouth again. “How about this: we nap for an hour and then head up to the pool?” At Peter’s dubious noise, he rolled his eyes. “It’s a saltwater pool, baby, I know how you feel about chlorine.” His voice was amused as he waited for the other’s reaction. “No chemicals to ruin your skin or curls, I promise.”

Peter shimmied excitedly and he did turn his head, then. His eyes sparkled as he gazed up at the man. “Oh, you’re so good to me,” he said, grinning. Shuffling around on the bed, he slipped under the covers and snuggled up to the pillows. He patted the spot next to him impatiently. “Now, come nap. I need a big spoon.”

Tony placed the bags on the coffee table by the sofa and made his way to the bed, removing his shoes and his suit under Peter’s watchful eyes. When he got under the covers in his white undershirt and boxers, he didn’t even blink an eye at the $15,000 trail in his wake. “Your wish is my command, baby,” he grinned, nestling up behind the boy.

They were both out like lights.

Tony was the first to wake up. He took a moment to just lay there, watching Peter as soft snores escaped his mouth, a thin line of drool connecting him to the pillow underneath his head. They had shifted during their nap, ending up facing each other with their legs intertwined. He looked down at his wrist, sighing when he saw the time. A few minutes after five o’clock. So much for an hour. They needed to head up to the pool now, if they wanted to have a decent amount of time before it was time to get ready for their dinner reservation. Careful not to disturb the younger man too much, he stretched a bit, whole body tensing before he relaxed back against the mattress.

Peter made a soft noise in his sleep, hips twitching forward against his husband's thigh.

Laughing softly, Tony climbed out of the bed before he could be tempted by the little minx. "Insatiable," he muttered to himself, smiling fondly at the snoozing teen.

He made his way to their luggage, rifling through the suitcases until he found his midnight blue swim trunks. Stripping out of his clothes, he pulled the shorts on before turning to dig some more until he found Peter's swimsuit and rolled his eyes at the sight of the garment.

They were tiny little things, Peter’s trunks, the inseam only 4", and similar in color to Tony's but with rainbow chickens taking up a majority of the fabric. The younger man referred to them as his ‘cock shorts’.

Holding them in his hand, Tony walked back to the center of the room and tossed them on the comforter as he climbed on the bed on all fours. He redistributed his weight so that he could reach out and run his right hand through Peter’s hair before stroking the side of his smooth face. “Peter, time to wake up, baby,” the billionaire said gently, not wanting to startle the slumbering man.

The teen groaned in response, but nuzzled into the touch just the same. “‘M sleepin,” he mumbled without opening his eyes. “Lemme sleep.”

Tony chuckled and pushed himself up onto his knees in order to slowly pull the covers down to the foot of the bed. “We’re gonna go swimming, remember?” His eyes roamed over Peter’s prone form, now spread out like a starfish in his jeans and top. “If we don’t go now, we won’t have time before dinner, baby,” he coaxed him softly.

Peter sighed and buried his face in the pillow for a moment before rolling over onto his back. He blinked blearily in the older man’s direction, propping himself up on his elbow as he ran his left hand through his hair, the sight of the gold band there making a smile twitch at his lips. “Okay,” he yawned as he rolled his shoulders and neck. Then he caught sight of Tony’s bare chest in the afternoon light. “Mmm. You’re ready already? Where are my-” His eyes landed on the brightly colored swim trunks. “Oh, my cock shorts,” he chuckled, reaching forward to grab them.

Tony’s eyes were rolling before he even registered it, and he turned away from the younger man to put together a bag with sunscreen and their water bottles. “Get dressed, you goof.”

Once Peter had gotten changed (which admittedly took a few minutes longer than it should have, given that he’d put on a bit of a show for his husband, who watched him with heady eyes), they headed to the elevator in their trunks and flip flops. Their hands were linked between them, and Peter let himself lean on Tony, enjoying the contact of their bare arms and torsos.

The couple walked through the metal doors when they opened and out onto the rooftop.

A gasp left Peter’s mouth at the scene before them. The infinity pool had to be one of the most breathtaking things he had ever seen. It took up around half of the expansive roof, and seemed to blend directly into the city skyline, no clear line where one ended and the other began. Luxurious-looking chaises were lined up in a row, and there was a small fire pit with circle seating in another area.

Then he noticed the sign off to the side of the elevator. This area is currently reserved for a private party.

He turned to look questioningly at Tony with furrowed brows. “The sign says it’s closed,” he pouted, taking on the tone that had become increasingly familiar throughout the course of the day. It was almost second nature at that point.

Tony snorted, pulling the smaller man along with him towards the loungers. “Who else do you think had enough money to rent out the rooftop of the most expensive hotel in the city, baby boy?”

The words had the fire in Peter’s gut igniting instantly. His Daddy was one of the richest (if not the richest-), most powerful men on the entire planet.

And he got him all to himself.

“Daddy,” he said sweetly once they had set the bag down and grabbed a few towels. At Tony’s soft noise of acknowledgement, Peter held up the bottle of sunscreen. “Can you help me with my sunscreen? I can never reach my back, and since we don’t have tons of time, it’ll probably be faster if you just do all of it.” He grinned up at the older man from where he sat cross legged on the cushion, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses.

There was an answering grin from Tony as he took the bottle and moved to sit behind the teen. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said, squirting the citrus-smelling substance into his hand. Rubbing his hands together, he warmed the sunscreen up before beginning to rub it into the freckled skin of Peter’s shoulders and back, then his arms.

Soft sighs left the brunette’s mouth, coupled with a few groans when Tony used just enough pressure to have his dick chubbing up in his shorts. “Feels good, Daddy,” he said breathily when Tony moved to sit on the chair beside them and looked at him questioningly, pulling Peter’s feet into his lap. “Love it when you touch me.”

Tony grinned back at him, reaching up to rub sunscreen into his legs and relishing in the harsh breath that the boy let out. He let his fingertips drag along Peter’s inner thighs as he worked, fingers occasionally dipping inside the legs of his swim shorts.

Once he was finished, he bent at the waist and nuzzled into the crease of his husband’s hip, the tip of his nose brushing against his burgeoning fabric covered erection. He placed a gentle kiss there before pushing himself into a standing position so he could look down at Peter as he squirted another small dollop of the lotion into his palm. “Settle down, baby boy,” he chided, rubbing the sunscreen into the skin of Peter’s face with two fingers.

Peter just pouted yet again, narrowing his eyes at the older man. “Tease,” he huffed out, playfully pushing Tony away from him when he could tell he was finished applying the sunscreen and was instead just running his fingers over Peter’s skin.

Tony just kept grinning as he got started on his own UV protection.

They splashed around in the pool for a while before Tony decided he wanted to swim a few laps. Peter found himself in the corner, taking in the way the sun was just beginning to set, the first bits of color beginning to bleed across the sky. He peered over the edge of the glass down at the city below, struck by how similar the view was to when he was swinging over-

“What’cha doin all the way over here, baby?”

The boy jumped at the words, a hand flying up to his heart in surprise. He was thankful for that particular section of the pool being shallow enough for him to stand. “Oh, you scared me,” he breathed and rested his forehead in the center of Tony’s chest, allowing himself to be pulled into the man’s arms. “Was just taking in the view. You done swimming?”

Nodding, Tony leaned his head down to press a kiss just below his husband’s ear. “Yup. There goes my exercise for the foreseeable future.” Another kiss, this time a little lower, closer to the junction of Peter’s neck and shoulder. “Let’s go dry out before the sun’s completely gone.”

They ended up laying on the loungers, just watching each other with hungry eyes as dusk approached, the sky changing around them.

Peter was once again hard in his trunks, but this time he had no reservations about letting a hand skim down his chest until it was resting over his cock. His breath caught in his throat and he rocked his hips up into his touch. He never moved his eyes away from Tony’s, even as he used his other hand to tease at his nipples while he continued to rut softly against his palm.

“Fuck, Peter,” Tony groaned roughly. He rolled over onto his side, reaching out for the younger man as he adjusted himself in his shorts.

The teen licked his lips and shook his head softly. “Uh-uh, Daddy,” he admonished. “You can look, but you can’t touch. I gave you a chance earlier and you didn’t take it.”

Eyes darkening in response, Tony retracted his hand and didn’t even pause before reaching down and pulling himself out of his swimsuit.

Peter gaped at him for a moment before he reminded himself that no one could see them. His heartbeat was thudding in his ears, a pink flush overtaking his face and upper body as he followed the older man’s lead. He took his dick in hand, stroking in time with the other’s movements.

“Look at you,” Tony breathed, running the pad of his thumb over his cockhead. “So dirty for your Daddy, aren’t you baby? Touching yourself out here in the open where anybody could walk out?” He clocked the way Peter’s hand jerked at the words and continued, his own muscles clenching. “But I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you, Peter? I wanna hear you say it baby.”

Suddenly the tables were turned, and Peter willingly gave up the control he’d intended to have. “Yes, Daddy, I’d love it. Want everyone to see how much I love you,” he whined, fucking into his fist. Shit, how was he so close already? “Want you to f-fuck me, so everybody knows how well you t-take care of me-” He cut himself off, gasping as the tugging behind his bellybutton grew stronger.

“No,” Tony said, the change in tone making Peter obey immediately and let go of his erection.

Which- Okay, that would have to be explored later.

“We don’t have time for all that, baby,” the older man continued, expression softening at the wounded look Peter was aiming at him. “We’ve gotta get ready for dinner.” He stroked himself a few mores times, savoring the feeling, before tucking his cock back into his swim trunks. Standing after a moment, he watched as Peter did the same, pulling the ridiculous cock shorts back up.

Peter was still sulking when they got into the elevator, so Tony backed him into the corner, hands dropping to grab at his ass. “Don’t worry, Petey,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “Daddy’ll give you what you want after dinner. I promise.”

That seemed to do the trick, as the younger man smiled up at him and puckered his lips to ask for a kiss. Tony happily obliged.

When they got back to the room, Peter called first shower, going through through an abbreviated version of his pre-sex ritual. He walked out of the bathroom in one of the large, fluffy bath sheets when he was finished, accepting the kiss Tony pressed into his cheek as they passed each other.

Once he heard the shower start up, the teen dug through their shopping bags from earlier that morning until he found the one from the lingerie store.

Tony was in for a surprise when they got back.

[aries-writingblog]

Stay With Me (2)

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes had never looked at himself as a family guy. He never even thought of it until she came around, flipping his world inside out. Bucky likes trouble and this girl? Well, she seems to invite chaos to dinner.

Pairing: Mob! Bucky Barnes x OC! Alex Grant

Chapter Word Count: 1898

Chapter Warnings: Language, mentions of violence, actual violence (one little hit, nothing big)

A/N: This is an OC story but I try to make them with the least amount of physical description as necessary. The pronouns used are feminine for the character.

“Hey, Alex- you’ve got another package on the front porch.” Wanda announced, walking through the door with Peter and Pietro in tow. The woman groaned, pressing her head to the kitchen island countertop.

“Again?” Alex asked, she looked over to Peter. “It’s the third time in two weeks- are you telling your boss the supplies we need?” Peter’s eyes widened and he shook his head. For the past two weeks, three unmarked packages arrived on Alex’s doorstep. The first just had some essentials for wood working- stain, paint, putty, a couple of new carving knives. The second had been similar- then she read back over a receipt as she was balancing her cheque book, noting the exact same products were present in the boxes. She could only imagine what was in the next one.

And she absolutely refused to change hardware stores- the workers were always so kind to her and the youth that typically dropped by- most of them attending the annual auctions to show support. More than once, they banded together and presented the group with a donation- which prompted Alex to make holiday cookies for the store employees every year. So, no- she would not give up on her family simply because of one idiotic, stupid rich criminal, who seemed hell bent on forcing his way into her life.

“What makes you think they’re from Bucky?” He asked, snatching a drink from her fridge. Pietro grunted, jumping up and sitting on the island, leaning over to Alex.

“If he’s giving you free shit, I wouldn’t complain.” He commented, tugging at her hair gently. Alex looked up, cocking an eyebrow at the teen. “Wring that fucker dry.”

“Pietro.” Wanda scolded, slapping her brother’s arm. “I don’t blame you, Alex. He’s a shady character, with even shadier money.”

“Okay, why are two teens giving me advice, right now? Shouldn’t you be... I don’t know, cleaning your rooms or something?” She snipped, pushing Pietro off the countertop. “People eat here, get your ass off.”

“I’m serious, Alex.” Pietro stopped her, gazing at her. She stopped pushing, meeting his electric blue eyes. “It would help with some of the expenses here. You know that.”

“We aren’t broke. You are, dickhead.” Alex shoved him down the hallway. “Now go- I need laundry in five minutes or your ass is grass.”

Wanda laughed, following her brother down the hallway. The two had been orphaned kids when Alex found them. They were on the streets, trying to survive. Pietro had been caught stealing from a grocery store, Alex stepped in and apologized for his behavior. The, at the time, nine year old played along and then told Alex their situation. She immediately offered them a place in her home. Pietro had accepted, trusting her fully. Wanda had been suspicious but eventually warmed up to her. They’d lived together for six years, the teens would have their sixteenth birthday in a few months. Every time Pietro or Wanda offered to help out and get a job, she turned them down.

“I make plenty of money at the hospital. You’re only kids now, enjoy your time as kids.” She’d tell them.

“They’re right, you know.” Peter supplied, tossing his backpack to the floor. “He may make dirty money but he has plenty of it. If he’s blowing it on you- what’s the problem?” Alex scoffed, swallowing her last bite of cookie.

“The problem is that you don’t live here, Pete. Why are you always here?” She passed the last of the dessert over to Peter.

“Aunt May is working night shift again and I told her I would stay with you so she wouldn’t worry.” He explained, trying to talk around a mouthful of cookie. He swallowed, taking another swig of his drink. “Plus, Pietro and I have a science report due tomorrow and we haven’t started it yet.” Alex took a deep, calming breath, closing her eyes.

“That’s great, Peter. But I’m also working night shift this week. So, you’ll be here by yourselves.” Alex stood up, stretching her back out. “Don’t burn my house down.”

“Sure thing.” He beamed at her, a chuckle falling from her lips as she started up the stairs.

Alex quickly got dressed for work, pulling on her scrubs. She made sure she had her ID badge, clipping it to her pocket. She then stopped by Pietro and Wanda’s rooms to double check if the clothes were picked up. On her way down the stairs, she heard quiet whispering from the teens.

“- what’s the harm in a date with the guy?” Pietro asked. Wanda sighed, Alex could almost picture her pressing her fingers to her temples in annoyance.

“So what she doesn’t want to date anyone? Just let it go, Pietro. And no one said anything about her dating Bucky, Peter just said that he has an interest in her. And sending random gifts isn’t gonna win that woman over, trust me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, do you know something?” Peter asked. Alex stopped on the steps, curious to hear what Wanda was going to spill to the group.

“Well... here’s the thing. In the back of Alex’s closet, there’s a-“ Wanda stopped, turning around and greeting Alex with a sheepish grin. “Oh, hi Alex.”

“Kids...” she narrowed her eyes, skirting around the group and going into the laundry room. There was a pause before three pairs of feet scurried after her.

“Can we order pizza tonight?” Pietro batted his eyelashes at her, giving his signature pouting smile. She returned the smile, mocking him.

“Pizza in the freezer. And stop going into my closet, Wanda.”

“In my defense, you told me I could borrow that top a few weeks ago and it fell off the hanger. So, was I really in your closet?” She asked, narrowing her eyes. Alex cocked an eyebrow and continued the laundry.

“What would you do, if hypothetically Mr. Barnes was like really interested in you?” Peter asked her, leaning over the washing machine.

“Peter.” She sighed. “I’m not dating your boss. End of story.” She started the machine before turning to Wanda. “Pizza’s in the freezer, keep an eye on it while it’s baking. Don’t let strangers into the house and keep an eye on your brother and Peter. Keep the laundry going and don’t work with any of the auction stuff until I get home. I don’t want any of you showing up at the hospital, wounded. Got it?”

Wanda nodded, repeating everything back to her. Alex grabbed her phone and keys, tucking them into her pockets. She hugged Wanda goodbye, ruffling Pietro‘s hair, before going out. She passed by the large box on the porch, groaning. She pushed it over to the edge of the porch, kicking it for good measure. Then, she got into her car and started to the hospital.

~~~~~~

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Bucky.” Steve advised, crossing his arms. He’d been slightly pissed all day, as soon as Bucky told him of the plan. Sam laughed, watching the buildings out of the window. Bucky groaned, throwing his head back onto the headrest.

“I’m just gonna ask if she got the deliveries. That’s it. No flirting, no banter, nothing. Zilch. Just a question.” Bucky reviewed, once again.

“But in practice, the deliveries are flirting tactics.” Steve pointed out, rolling his eyes. “She threatened to shoot you if you came back, Bucky. Leave it alone.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Bucky griped, cutting his eyes over to Steve. “You never give me shit for anything- girls in clubs, you’ve seen me beat guys senseless, shoot people, more questionable things than being interested in a woman.”

“She’s a woman who has her life together, man. Don’t pull her into this life.” Steve sighed, causing Bucky to shut his mouth. The SUV pulled to a stop in front of the house. Bucky unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out, slamming the door behind him. He jaunted up the steps and rapped his knuckles against the door. When it opened, he saw a teenaged boy with bleach white hair behind it.

“Can I help you?” He asked. He didn’t let the door open further than his shoulders. It was excusable. A strange, tattooed man at seven thirty standing on the porch of a woman who threatened to kill him. Bucky flashed a bright smile.

“Is Alex around, kid?” He asked, glancing over and spying the box still sitting unopened on the porch. “Ah... she hasn’t opened them?”

“You’re Bucky Barnes?” He asked, ticking an eyebrow up. Bucky nodded, reaching a hand out to shake hands. Pietro didn’t reciprocate, keeping the door tucked to him. Alex trained these kids well. “Well, thanks for the shit but Alex said she didn’t really want it.”

“Pietro, you left the oven-“ A girl with red hair stopped in her tracks. “What’s going on?”

“This is Barnes.” Pietro looked back at her.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Barnes!” Peter peeked his head around Pietro, opening the door wider. Pietro grumbled something but stood back a little to accommodate for the other boy. “What are you doing here?” Bucky silently sent a thanks to any deity currently listening in. Peter he could work with, the other two kids weren’t gonna give him the time of day. Much like Alex.

“Alex around?” He asked, trying to peek into the house further. Pietro shifted, blocking his view. He crossed his arms, scowling at the bulky mass of a man standing on their porch.

“No- she’s at work-“

“Peter!” The girl hissed, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Shut up!” She turned to Bucky again. “Listen, mister, we don’t want your gifts or you loitering on our porch. We’ve found Jesus, don’t need your depression pamphlet, and we don’t want any of your fucking cookies. Our mom doesn’t condone talking to strangers. Good day, sir.” She slammed the door in his face, the audible sound of several locks clicking.

“Wanda- what the fuck! He could kill you, you know that right?” One of the boys shrilled on the opposite side of the door. Bucky stood in shock- mom? Alex definitely did not look old enough to have two fifteen year olds.

“Oh please, as if. That’ll look real good to Alex, wouldn’t it? He won’t touch either of us.”

Bucky turned and jogged down the steps back to the car. When he opened the door, Sam was doubled over, laughing so hard he was crying. Steve was watching with a ‘I told you so’ smile.

“Alright, you’ve had your laughs.” He grumbled. Shoving his way into the car. Sam snickered, straightening up and looking over at the man.

“That little girl kicked your ass!” He burst out laughing again, pounding his fist on his knee. Bucky mimicked Sam’s words mockingly as he began a search on his phone.

“Whatever.” He breathed out, looking up to the driver. “Saint Quincy’s Hospital, Davis.” The driver nodded, starting the car.

“Why are we going to a hospital?” Steve asked, mirth in his voice. Sam began wiping the laughter from his face, sniffling. Bucky turned to Steve, unbuckling his seat belt.

“Punch me in the face.” He instructed, unbuttoning the top buttons on his shirt. Steve raised an eyebrow, cocking his head. Sam turned, serious again.

“Now, wait a minute-“ Sam was interrupted by Steve throwing a punch directly into Bucky’s nose. Bucky doubled over, holding his now bleeding nose. His eyes watered, stomach rolling.

“Shit!”

[justauthoring]

No Reason To (35/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

It has come to my attention that by adding links to my posts, it stops that post from being seen in the tags tagged. So, sadly, I will no longer be able to tag previous parts of NRT on new chapters. BUT all part can be found easily on my “No Reason To Series MasterList!”

A/N: So, here it is ladies and gents. Finally the thirty-fifth chapter to NRT. And what better way to kick it off with a chapter OVER TEN THOUSAND WORDS LONG???

I’m literally gonna be so bummed out if this barely gets any attention, but i’m trying to prepare myself for it. Anyways, I have to admit, it was hard given that it’s been so long since I wrote for this series and i’d forgotten A LOT of things but I found my mojo and my inspo and because of came the longest chapter to date. So, please, enjoy!

However, the more comments and response I receiver from chapters will inspire me to write more frequently. It was one of the reasons why I took such a long break – because it felt like no one cared about this series anymore. So, i’m hoping that people still do.

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 05x08, 05x09 & 05x10

“Stiles?”

“Y/N, thank God--!”

An immediate bout of relief floods you at the sound of Stiles’ voice, pulling your hand away from your mouth to stop the way you’d nervously been chewing at your nails and glancing around aimlessly. Your heart is still pounding erratically against your chest, frightened from all that had happened in less then twenty-four hours. 

You can’t get the image of Scott shoving a sword through your stomach out of your mind. Even if it had been... well, you still weren’t sure what it was; a hallucination of some sort. Something. But even if it hadn’t been real, you couldn’t seem to calm down.

And right now, all you wanted to do was see Stiles.

“I just got a dispatch, they’ve taken--”

“Kira into custody,” you cut in, nodding to yourself. “Kira called Scott, he’s on his way to check up on her now.”

You hear, though through static, Stiles’ let out a breath of relief at your words. And silence seems to hang in the air afterwards, because while Stiles’ breath of relief is justified, you can’t seem to feel the same. Everything had gone to absolute shit so quickly.

“Y/N?”

Letting your eyes fall shut, you’re thankful that even through a cellphone, Stiles just seems to know. Just know something’s wrong. Because truth be told you weren’t exactly sure how you were supposed to tell him that Scott’s plan had gone anything but well and now, Liam and Hayden were God knows where and there was absolutely no way to track them because there was no scent to track.

“Liam and Hayden, they, um... the Dread Doctor’s got them,” you breathe, voice shaky. “The plan failed. They tricked us, all of us, and now... now they’re gone and Scott and Malia can’t find them because there’s no scent to track.”

The silence echoes for a while longer. You can hear Stiles’ breath spike as you explain, as the weight of everything, the entire situation, seems to dawn on the both of you. And neither of you are sure what to say.

All Stiles’ manages is an echoed; “Jesus...”

Swallowing thickly, you bite your lip, forcing back your tears. It was time to gather yourself. Now wasn’t the time to be acting like this; afraid. Liam and Hayden needed you, and the first ridiculous plan is what got them in trouble in the first place. You refused to fail them again.

“Scott told me to call you,” you speak up, trying your best to steel your voice. “He wants everyone to meet at our place. Come up with a plan.”

“Okay,” Stiles echoes and you can imagine him nodding. “Okay, um, okay. I’ll be there. And I’ll... I’ll bring Theo.”

You hum your agreement; “we need all the help we can get.” Then, pausing just a moment more, you add; “i’ll meet you there?”

“Yeah, yeah, i’ll meet you there.” 

You move to hang up, but then Stiles’ calls out for you once more, eliciting a light hum from your lips as you press your phone up against your ear. “Yeah?” You respond lightly, playing with the hem of your shirt. “What’s up?”

“I love you.”

Blinking at his words, you for some reason realize that out of everything that wasn’t what you’d expected Stiles’ to say. You can’t make sense of why the thought wouldn’t cross your mind. But, his words help ease you, even just a little, and you feel your lips curl into a soft smile, glancing down at your feet.

“I love you too, Stiles.” 

-

You turn at the sound of your front door opening, eyes falling on your brother.

He walks in with determination, never faltering in his step, even as Stiles calls out; “hey, is Kira okay?” Your brother just simply ignores him, walking past you, Malia, Stiles and Theo without even as much as blinking a glance towards you all.

Your brows furrow at him, watching as he makes his way to the stairs.

“Scott?” Theo calls, puzzled.

Meeting Stiles’ eyes, you shrug at the look he sends you, the first one to follow after your brother and rush up the stairs. It’s clear he’s headed to where Lydia and Mason are helping Corey get started with reading the book. And your chest tightens with worry on what you fear he’s planning on doing.

Your thoughts are only confirmed when you find Scott digging his nails into the back of Corey’s neck, eyes glowing a bright red.

“Don’t get too close,” Lydia warns.

You shuffle forward when you feel Theo rush up behind you, stepping closer to Stiles to give the former room to catch in on what’s happening. As you glance back at him, you notice the way his brows furrow in confusion, turning to you. “What’s he doing?”

“Tapping into Corey’s memories,” you explain, turning to your brother with a frown. “It’s usually something only Alpha’s do.”

Theo walks past you, until he’s directly behind Scott. Your eyes narrow slightly, just a little, at the look in his face as he regards what your brothers doing. There’s interest in his gaze and he almost seems fascinated by what Scott’s doing, but it’s the question that leaves his lips that concerns you, just a little. “Is it as dangerous as it looks?”

“Probably more,” Stiles sighs.

“Does anyone know if it’s working?”

Mason’s question is left unanswered.

But the silence only lasts so long before Scott lets out a gasp, and a bout of panic floods you. With wide eyes, you watch as Scott yanks his hand back, stumbling back on his own feet. Stiles’ rushes forward, so do you, helping catch Scott before he falls back as Corey rushes up to his feet, Lydia helping him similarly as you and Stiles help Scott.

“Is he okay?” Scott rasps, leaning against the dresser in his room, short breathed.

“What the hell did you do to me?” Corey asks, voice pitched in panic. Glancing back at him, you frown as he touches the back of his neck, clearly distraught with everything that had happened.

Scott braces himself, gripping the edge of the dresser and breathing out; “you’ll be all right.”

Lips parting, you turn to Scott in surprise.

“There’s blood,” Corey whimpers.

“You’ll heal.”

“Hey, Scott--” You move forward, to reach for Scott, but he slaps your hand away, turning to you with narrowed eyes.

“He’ll be fine!” He bellows, dismissing you and anything else you’d been about to say. You take a step back at his outburst, trying to hide the hurt on your face as you meet Lydia’s gaze before glancing down at your feet. “Listen...” Scott pants, “I think it worked. I saw something.” Grabbing a sketch pad from his dressed, Scott continues to explain himself whilst mapping it out. “There were tunnels. Pipes along the walls. There were these huge blue pipes at the entrance. Two on both sides.”

Shuffling forward, Stiles’ glances over Scott’s shoulders; “I know this,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “I’ve seen this before.”

“Where?” You question, pulling Stiles’ eyes on you.

“It’s one of the tunnels I used to skateboard in,” Stiles explains, nodding. Then, he turns to Scott. “Remember, my dad caught me one time and told me to never go back?”

“It’s the water treatment plant,” Lydia identifies.

“That’s where they are,” Scott breathes, “that’s where we’ll find Liam and Hayden.”

-

“Scott. Scott! Just slow down and think for a minute, Mason shouldn’t be going.”

“Liam’s my best friend,” Mason instantly argues, stepping past Stiles and crossing the distance over to Scott without a moments of hesitation. “I’m going.”

 “Oh,” Stiles scoffs, “did you suddenly get super wolf powers? I wasn’t aware of that development.”

Swallowing thickly, you glance at Scott before turning to Stiles, biting your lip.

“Well,” Scott shrugs, gesturing to Mason, “if you’re not going, I could use the help.”

“No, I’m coming,” Stiles huffs, “just as soon as I talk to my dad. They’re moving the body and he wants to make sure that this time no one steals it.”

“How’s he gonna do that?”

“I don’t know. But whoever took the last one was strong enough to flip my Jeep.”

Glancing amongst everyone, you shrug; “we can bring Theo,” you suggest, gesturing before yourself. Theo meets your eyes in surprise at your suggestion, before turning to Scott who waits patiently for him to agree.

“Maybe I better stay here,” Theo shrugs, shaking his head. “You know, in case the Doctors decide to make a house call for Corey.”

“Scott,” Lydia calls, “Stiles is right. We need to slow down and think.”

“I am thinking... about how Liam and Hayden could already be dead.”

Lydia’s eyes widen and she says, quickly, with no hesitation; “you could’ve hurt him, Scott.” And her words hang in the air because no one can deny that what she says is true. And that what Scott had done was way out of line. “Really hurt him.”

Shaking his head, Scott shuffles back; “I have to find Liam.” And then he turns, moving towards the door. Malia and Mason are quick to follow after him but before you can do the same, Stiles steps towards you, reaching out for you.

“Hey, text me. For anything.”

You nod without hesitation; “got it.”

“Anything at all, okay?”

Just about to turn out the door, few steps behind the rest, you nod once, this time rushed. “Of course!”

-

You keep close behind Scott, your gaze concentrated on anything and everything that could be a hint to where Liam and Hayden are.

You don’t have the advantage of scent-tracking like Scott or Malia, but it’s clear it might not be doing as much help anyway if the looks on Scott and Malia’s faces are anything to go by. You feel like you’re in a maze, taking turns left and right but having no idea where you’re actually headed.

It’s the blind leading the blind.

Pausing next to Malia, you catch her gaze before she looks out before herself; “Liam!” She calls, and her voice echoes amongst the tunnels, but there’s no response.

“I have a feeling this is gonna take a while.”

-

“Liam! Hayden!”

Brows furrowed, you shake your head at the once again lack of response. All you can hear is the echoing calls from the rest, but not from Liam or Hayden as you take random lefts and rights that never seem to lead to anything.

Taking another left, your heart leaps for the millionth time in hope that you’ll manage to find something, anything, that can be a clue. But of course, your hope is misplaced and lost the second you realize there’s nothing more special about this hallway then the rest. However, you do catch sight of Scott, Malia and Mason that have already regrouped, probably from stumbling into each other, as their gazes fall on you.

Sighing, your shoulders drop as you make your way over to them; “it feels like we’re running around in circles.”

Scott nods, “we need to make sure we’re not covering the same area.” He pants, breath laboured. Your brows furrowed when you notice the rasp to his breath, and it’s a sound you’ve heard many times however not in a long time.

“Scott,” you call, concerned. Taking a step towards him, you set your hand on his shoulder, glancing around at the rest.

Mason meets your eyes with a nod; “he needs his inhaler,” then, turning to your brother, he gestures; “right--?”

“Shh!” Scott cuts in, not letting any of you speak again as he tilts his head, shrugging your hand off of him. You let your hand fall by your side with parted lips, eyes narrowed as you hold your breath in anticipation. “I hear something,” he continues, breath still heavy.

“It’s just the lights, isn’t it?”

Scott shakes his head, eyes narrowing in concentration. However, he doesn’t explain anything to the three of you, shrugging off any questioning looks and choosing to ignore them as he steps forward. “Come on, this way.”

-

Pressing a hand against your chest, you lean forward, trying to ignore the burn that settles right in the middle.

“I’m telling you guys,” Mason breathes, shaking his head as he turns to face you. “We’ve been down this one before.”

“We’ve been down every one!” You argue, unable to stop the pitch in your voice as you meet your brother’s gaze. With distraught and panic, you feel your determination fading as you huff; “we’re getting no where.”

Scott pauses at your words, silent for a moment before he huffs; “what the hell are we doing? We’re running up and down this place. Up and down tunnels.” The burn in your chest seems to fade to the back of your mind when you register the wild panic in Scott’s eyes, slowly straightening out as he gestures around himself in frustration and loss. “And there’s no way... there’s no way that we’re gonna find...” His breath starts to labour again, wheezing.

“Scott,” Malia calls, “you need your inhaler.”

He just shakes his head.

“Scott, this isn’t a joke,” you snap, your voice thick with worry. “Use it. Use your inhaler.”

He falls to his knees, his legs giving out from beneath him as a spike of panic floods you. Crouching down before him, you ignore his arguing and the way he tries to fight off your hands, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out his inhale. Pressing it against his lips, you nod with encouragement as you press down on the top, him taking in a deep inhale. With that, you pull back, hovering next to him and watching carefully.

Your chest eases when he lets out a eased, full breath.

He meets your eyes, just briefly, before glancing down at his feet. “This is all my fault.” You glance up at the rest at his words, for once, not sure what to say to reassure your own twin. “We’re never going to find them. It’s my fault.”

“Scott,” Mason calls, and your eyes fall on his hand, the way he holds it out towards your brother, palm up and inviting. You lean back as Scott slowly turns to him, turning to Malia who helps pull you up to your feet once more. But never once do you look away from Scott.

He glances up at Mason in confusion, to which he just nods.

And slowly, Scott sets his hand in Mason’s own, letting him pull him up to his feet.

“We should keep looking,” Mason reassures, “we should keep trying.”

When Scott turns to you, you don’t hesitate to nod, smiling softly.

-

A genuine smile falls on your lips at the sight of Liam and Hayden, safe, sat together on the couch. All that mattered to you was that they were safe.

It didn’t matter to you that in the end, you, Mason, Malia and Scott hadn’t been the ones to save them. And you were more than thankful that Theo had, that he was able to figure out something you all couldn’t and get to them before something worse than what had happened did. And in the end, you know that you had tried your best.

Your smile brightens as Lydia steps forward, draping a blanket over the pair that sleep a, you think, well deserved sleep on the couch.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice a figure approach you, pulling your eyes on Theo who makes his way over to you. You step towards him with ease, accepting his embrace as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. 

However, as your head falls into the crook of his shoulder, you finally catch a good look at Scott. And the look on his face.

The way he watches on, the way he glances at the back of Theo with some sort of distant, jealous look. Or rather not jealous, not completely at least. He almost looks afraid. But you couldn’t understand why; not when Liam and Hayden were sleeping peacefully and safely directly next to him. 

Biting your lip, you frown.

-

“I said I don’t wanna talk about it, Stiles.”

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles huffs, rushing to catch up with you after you’d let the doors to the school practically slam shut in his face. Glancing around him at the few pairs of eyes you’d manage to catch the attention of do to your outburst, Stiles’ inhales sharply, shaking his head. “Just slow down. Let me talk to you, please.”

Catching you by the arm, Stiles’ halts your steps, pulling you back and spinning you around so you’re facing him. You let him do so, surprising Stiles when you don’t fight against his grip. Instead, you simply cross your arms over your chest, letting him guide you away from the middle of the hallway and towards the side, tucked into a corner where less eyes and ears can pray on your conversation.

Easing his grip a little bit, so it’s a little less forceful, Stiles’ shakes his head down at you, his eyes pleading with you. “You woke up screaming, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you huff, avoiding Stiles’ gaze as you turn your head to the side, jaw clenched. “And it wasn’t the first time I ever had, nor do I think it’ll be the last time.” Pausing, you shake your head, meeting Stiles’ gaze with certainty and without fault; “i’m fine, Stiles.”

“No,” he argues, adamantly shaking his head. He steps towards you when you move to walk off, hastily moving to block and holding his hand towards you. When you glare up at him, he simply just shakes his head, desperation in his gaze. “No, it was different. There was something different about it this time.”

Your lips part to respond, but find yourself unable to.

Stiles takes your moment of silence as agreement to continue; “in fact, something’s been off about you for a while.” Then, Stiles’ falters, just a little, and his shoulders fall as his gaze softens. You bite your lip as he reaches forward, the tips of his fingers softly brushing underneath your eyes. “You don’t sleep. And when you do, you wake up screaming. And don’t lie to me, because I see the bags under your eyes.”

Licking your lips, your eyes flicker downwards, swallowing thickly. “Stiles...--”

“I’m worried,” he breathes, voice a mere whisper. “Really worried.”

You want to tell him. You really do. Because the truth is you’ve never hidden anything from Stiles -- or Scott for that matter -- before. It felt natural to just tell him everything, and yet, when your lips part to do so, you halt. You don’t really know what this is. You’re just as, probably even more, confused about what’s happening to you and your powers as he is. As everyone is.

You don’t know why your nightmares have gotten worse, spiking like they used to when you were younger or when you were first discovering your powers. And you certainly don’t know why they’re ten times worse then they’d ever been before. You don’t why you seem to have no control over your powers, them spiking out of control at random moments that it makes you afraid to do anything in fear you’ll hurt someone. 

Hurt someone again.

Waking up screaming, out of your mind, and then proceeding to finally wake up, completely, only to notice that you’d somehow managed to set Stiles’ comforters on fire... well, it left you terrified. More than that. You were absolutely petrified; embarrassed because you’d had absolutely no control of what you were doing and you could’ve really hurt Stiles if he hadn’t caught on to what was happening in time.

Really hurt him.

And hearing Stiles go on about how worried he is, how he just wants to help, for some awful reason just makes you more angry. Makes you want to keep your mouth shut and not tell him anything because why the hell was he so concerned about you when you could’ve hurt him -- maybe even killed him?

Everything was just seeming to pile on top of the other. While Liam and Hayden were safe, nothing had been resolved about the Dread Doctors. You were still just as lost and confused about it all and at this point, everyone was just waiting for the next attack; in whatever way it came. Everyone was different, distant. You hadn’t had a proper conversation with really any of them in a long time.

Not even your own brother.

And when around Stiles, you just found yourself constantly aggravated and you don’t know why. Because he hasn’t done anything. Absolutely nothing. He was just concerned for you, like you would be for him if the roles were reversed.

It didn’t help that you didn’t know anything either.

“I don’t know.” You say bluntly, voice soft but distant.

Stiles blinks, “what?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, Stiles,” you huff, glaring up at him as you shake your head. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know why this is happening or-or why it’s happening now. I don’t know if it’ll get worse or when it’ll get better. I don’t know anything.”

Your breath hitches as you finish your rant, swallowing thickly as Stiles just stares down at you, clearly at a lost on what to say.

“You don’t know,” he repeats slowly, nodding to himself. “That’s it? You don’t know.”

Narrowing your eyes, you shrug; “yeah, that’s it.”

“You’re hiding something,” Stiles deduces, shaking his head at you as if that was the only logical answer. “I can tell. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Brows furrowing, you scoff. What the hell did he know? How did he know you were hiding something? And what right did he have to accuse of that when he’s been hiding something for days himself.

“Well then,” you snap, leaning back as you cross your arms over your chest. Stiles watches with a frown, but you simply quirk a brow at him; “that’s quite funny given that you’ve been doing the exact same thing for days.”

Stiles’ face falls, and his eyes widen, even for just a second as he shuffles on his feet. A cough slips past his lips and the heavy, narrowed gaze you hold on him only adds to his sudden growing nerves. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“You’ve never been good at lying, Stiles.”

“I’m not,” he argues, just a tad bit too quickly. “I’m not lying, nor am I hiding anything.”

“You say something’s been off with me, that i’m not telling you everything and you’re concerned,” you ramble, taking a step towards Stiles’ with an accusatory point at his chest. “But you’ve been distant and off yourself. It’s like you’re constantly afraid of something, and I don’t know what it is but don’t you dare accuse me of hiding something when you’re doing the exact same thing.”

Stiles’ face tightens and his expression shifts from the soft, concerned way it’d been before, to a distant, masked one. “This wasn’t about me,” he dismisses with a shake of his head. “I’m not the one who woke up and nearly set the both of us on fire.”

“And I said I was sorry!”

“And you don’t know how you did it?”

“No!” You snap, forgetting yourself and the fact that you’re in the middle of the hallway. Cringing at the attention you receive from a few students walking by, you force yourself to lower your voice, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t, okay? I don’t know anything, like I never do. You don’t think i’m scared? Out of my mind? And yet you continue to interrogate me and I can’t handle--”

“Woah, Y/N,” Stiles cuts in, voice pitch in panic. “Your eyes--!”

Blinking, you pause; “what are you...”

“Your eyes, they’re glowing. You’re... You’re glowing...”

Glancing down at your hands, you swallow thickly, finally noticing the way your powers have surged amongst your panic. You hadn’t even noticed, blinded by your own anger as you forgot yourself. Meeting Stiles’ eyes with your own panic ones, you try to calm yourself down but find that you can’t. You just won’t calm.

Then, you seem to take notice of your shortened breath and the way your skin has grown clammy. It’s happening again. You’re--

“Y/N?”

Blinking, your head snaps behind you at the sound of a different voice. And despite everything, relief floods you when you meet Theo’s eyes who had slowly been approaching, more in hesitation then anything. However, when he seems to catch sight of what’s happening, he doesn’t waste any time in rushing over to you, taking you by your arms and pulling you into the nearest empty classroom and away from prying eyes.

Stiles’ follows aimlessly behind.

“Remember what we talked about, Y/N? You’ve got to breathe,” Theo directs, voice soft and gentle. He continues to gently nudge you back, until he pulls out a chair for you and lets you fall back. Not having to stand on your own wobbly legs helps you and you’re able to focus in on Theo as he moves to breathe with you. “Breathe with me, Y/N. Just breathe with me.”

You do. You breathe in as he does and holds it until he exhales. And slowly, by the second, you feel your heart calm and the pounding in your head ease as you gather yourself, Gather your bearings.

When it’s settled enough for you to think and speak coherently, your head falls into your hands, letting out a shaky breath. “It’s getting worse,” you whimper, oblivious to the way Theo still keeps you close and a steady hand on your arm to calm you. Pulling your head away from your hands, you turn to Theo with a watery gaze before meeting Stiles’ eyes whose stands a little bit in front of you, lost. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. We just have to--”

“I nearly set Stiles on fire this morning, Theo,” you mumble, turning to the boy with a frown. “I mean, I could’ve really hurt him.”

Theo glances back at Stiles, as if for confirmation on what you’ve said.

“It’s true,” Stiles nods, voice quieter then usual. “How’d you, um, how’d you know how to do that? Calm Y/N down like that?”

“Theo’s been helping me,” you mumble, rubbing at your face. “With my powers.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Theo nods, standing up but still sticking close to you. “She just needs a little bit of guidance.”

Stiles nods, slowly, his lips pursing. “It’s amazing how you seem to just know how to help her,” he comments, his suspicion of it all very clear in his tone. “How’d you even know, huh? You just happened to come at the right moment.”

Theo’s lips part, shaking his head; “Stiles--”

“Oh, come off it, Stiles.” You snap, tired of his accusatory attitude. He hadn’t stopped being like that since you walked through the front doors of the school this morning and right now, you couldn’t deal with it.

However, it’s clear both Theo and especially Stiles, are surprised by your tone.

“Seriously,” you huff, pushing yourself up to your feet and ignoring Theo who tries to get you to sit back down. “If he hadn’t come, you could’ve gotten hurt, again. So maybe we should be thanking him. In fact,” turning to Theo, you soften your gaze, nodding at him; “thank you, Theo.”

“Yeah,” Theo mumbles, clearly uncomfortable, “it’s... it’s no problem.”

“Y/N,” Stiles calls, disbelief in his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” you roll your eyes, pushing yourself away from the desk and moving to take a step forward.

Theo is quick to rush forward. “Woah, here, Y/N, let me help you.”

“No, I’ve got it,” Stiles’ cuts in, beating Theo to the punch and slipping his hand in your own. You don’t bother fighting his grip, instead using his support as a means to gather the rest of your strength and will. “I can walk my girlfriend to class, thank you.”

Stepping back, Theo holds up his hand in surrender.

“My God, Stiles,” you sigh, “just... let’s go.”

You glance back at Theo once more, offering a small wave before you’re completely out of the class and he’s no longer in your peripheral. There’s an echo of silence that hangs over both you and Stiles, his grip easing on you now that Theo is no longer there.

“Y/N--”

“It’s fine, Stiles,” you cut in, interrupting him before he can say anything. “I just want to go to class. We’re already late enough as it is.”

-

You ended up going home. 

You felt pathetic doing so but you just couldn’t stand another minute of sitting in class and pretending everything was fine. And you found yourself snapping at people quite easily, getting yourself into more trouble then usual. 

Being afraid of losing control and hurting people didn’t help either.

Besides, Stiles and you didn’t really talk after your conversation in the morning. And you couldn’t find Lydia anywhere, nor your brother or Theo. Malia had simply brushed past you when you’d walked past her so it didn’t really feel like anyone would miss you if skipped out on one day anyway.

And for the most part you’d enjoyed it. Getting to just be by yourself was nice enough, even if you’d let your thoughts get to you a little bit too much. You’d distracted yourself by calling Isaac, and it was nice given that you hadn’t been able to talk to him in a while. You heard all about how his fancy new life was going and he sounded genuinely happy, like he always did when you called him. It was a nice contrast to the gloom that seemed to be hanging over you and everyone else’s heads recently.

You lied when he asked how you were doing. You pretended like everything was fine and he seemed to believe you for the most part.

And he’d kept you distracted. Reminded you of simpler times. It was nice.

But then you’d gotten a text from Theo, saying that you needed to get to the vet instantly. You hadn’t bothered on asking why and you appreciated, that despite everything, despite him seeing how stable your powers were probably more than anyone else, he still trusted you enough to make sure to keep you in the loop. You couldn’t handle being kept out of things like Scott and Stiles had that one time.

So you raced over immediately, taking no more then twenty minutes to get there. And the second you did, your heart fell with panic when you saw just exactly what was wrong.

“What happened?” You ask with worry, racing over to where Liam is sat with Hayden in his arms. Her face is scrunched up in distress and it’s clear she’s in pain if the whimpers that leave her lips every few seconds are anything to go by. Her skin is pale, worryingly so, and as you flicker your eyes upwards towards Liam, he stares back at you with absolute terror.

“The Dread Doctors came for her,” Theo explains, pulling your eyes on him as he settles a few inches behind you. Slowly pushing yourself up to your feet, you send one last worried glance at the pair before making your way over to Theo, crossing your arms over your chest. “Scott and I got there as soon as possible. I tried to find you but...”

“Yeah, I, uh... sorry, I just had to get away.” You frown, biting your lip as guilt floods you. If you had known so much would happen on your one day away, you wouldn’t have left. But then again, you maybe should’ve expected it. It was, after all, the life you now lived. “I’m not sure what help I would’ve been though.”

“Don’t say that,” Theo argues without hesitation, “and you shouldn’t be afraid to use your powers.”

Cheeks warming, even if only faintly at Theo’s words, you advert your gaze from his own, opting to glance around in search of your brother only then realizing you haven’t seen him since you’d walked in. In fact, as you look around Deaton’s animal clinic, you realize, he isn’t there at all.

“Where’s Scott?” You question, curious and a little worried. Pushing yourself up and off the lab bench you’d been leaning on, you turn to Theo with furrowed brows.

“Outside,” he explains with ease, “talking to Stiles.”‘

Stiles... You should probably talk to Stiles too.

“Oh,” you mumble, making your way towards the back door. “I should probably--”

Theo’s hand wraps around your wrist, halting your movement completely before giving a small tug, trying to pull you back in his direction. You glance over at him in bewilderment, eyes narrowing in confusion as your eyes flicker from the tight grip he holds on your wrist to his eyes which stare carefully and deeply into your own.

“I wouldn’t recommend that.”

“What?” You question, baffled. “Theo--”

“Just... there’s something I have to tell you.” Theo cuts in gently, sending a small nod towards Liam and Hayden, clearly signaling that he doesn’t want to say it front of the two. You wait a moment before nodding, letting him pull you off from the two and tucking the two of you into a corner. You don’t miss the way Theo inches closer, probably more closer than appropriate, towards you, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper as he hesitates.

“I’m not really sure how to say this.”

“Well you’re the one who told me you have to tell me something,” you huff, shaking your head at him. “Just tell me, Theo.”

Swallowing thickly, Theo inhales sharply. “It has to do with Stiles.”

“Stiles?” You ask, voice pitching in concern and worry. “Is something wrong? Did something--”

You inch towards the door once more, worry clouding your judgement before Theo pulls you back again, this time, his hand falls on your arm and he leaves it there. You turn to him with narrowed eyes, shaking your head as you try to make sense of what he’s trying to say.

“Stiles’ is fine,” Theo dismisses, shaking his head. “At least, physically.”

“I... What the hell are you going on about, Theo?”

“Y/N, Stiles...” And he pauses, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if he’s trying to prepare himself for something. Well, nothing could’ve prepared you for the words he says next. “Stiles killed Donovan.”

And you pause, not really sure how to respond to that. Your first instinct is to just laugh, outright deny whatever lie Theo is trying to spit out right now. But you don’t. You can’t seem to force any other words but a strangled and choked; “what?” out of your lips as you shake your head adamantly at the accusation, at a lost.

“Donovan went after Stiles in the library.” Theo explains, voice eerily quiet. “You know his shoulder? You know it’s hurt?” You nod, numb, your mind trying to remember what excuse Stiles had come up with to explain why his shoulder had hurt but drawing a blank. Had he even given one? 

But the truth was, he had. However not without simply brushing off your concern and then you’d reached out for him, touched his shoulder and--

Darkness. Fear. Terror. Regret. Guilt.

Guilt.

“I just saw the end of it. That’s it, but... but...” Stammering over his own words, Theo shakes his head, his grip tightening on you ever so slightly. “Stiles had hit him with this-this wrench and he just... he wouldn’t stop. He just kept hitting him. And he wouldn’t stop.”

Lips parting, you let out a shaky breath; “that... doesn’t sound like Stiles.”

“I know,” Theo breathes, voice pitching, his words hanging in the air for a moment. “I couldn’t stop him. I tried to. I shouldn’t be telling you this, I-I know that but I didn’t want you to go out there and--”

“Scott knows?”

Theo nods; “yeah. I... I told him.”

He told the both of us?

Glancing over your shoulder at the back doors, you swallow thickly. Something... Something doesn’t feel right. Something feels wrong.

Your lips part and you move to say something, but nothing make sense. Theo’s story doesn’t make sense and... and you know that. You know that. So why are you so confused? Why does your heart feel as if it’s going to break?

Stiles had been hiding something. You’d said it yourself earlier this morning.

There had been something off about him for a long time.

But to bash a man’s head in?

“Y/N, i’m... i’m sorry.” Theo’s voice quivers, shaky and breathless as he takes a step towards you. “I’ve just never seen someone so... so angry.”

And for a long while you’re silent. You don’t even have the courage to properly look at Theo in the eyes. You just stand there, feeling numb, feeling heart broken and confused and everything in between. And you don’t say anything because you can’t. Nothing... Nothing feels right.

But you know Stiles. You’ve known Stiles for years and you know he’s not a violent person. He never has been, whether someone he cared about was in danger or not. Stiles was not a violent person, you know that, and for him to have bashed a boys head in... well, that just seemed impossible.

“No,” you whisper, eyes narrowing as you slowly begin to shake your head. “No, that’s... you’re wrong. That’s not--”

“Y/N,” Theo calls, moving to pull you back towards him, “I know what I saw.”

You yank yourself from his grasp, meeting his eyes with absolute disbelief. He looks at you stunned, as if that was the absolute last thing he’d expected you to do. But it felt right for you to react this way and it rubbed you the wrong way that Theo seemed so quick to judge Stiles and think he’d actually be able to make you believe a story like that.

It was impossible.

Stiles and you might not be getting along the best recently, you may feel more distant from him then ever, but you knew you loved him. And you knew who he was. You know that the boy you’d fallen in love when you were just a little girl who’d protected you from your father, who’d never failed to make you laugh at his silly ways. Who’d hold you when things got to be too much, who never stopped believing in you and who always gave you hope, even in the toughest of times, was not capable of a story like that.

“You’re lying,” you sob, taking a step back from Theo. “There’s... There’s no--”

You turn, moving to race out and find Stiles and talk to him and ask him, plead with him to tell you what you know you already know. But the second you turn, Scott walks through the door and you end up crashing into him instead. However, your eyes catch sight of Stiles’ just before the door falls shut, standing there, looking heart broken, and without even regarding Scott, you move to catch him before he leaves.

“No, Y/N, wait, Stiles--”

“You believe him?” You screech, glaring up at Scott as you point back at Theo whose lips have parted in absolute shock. “You believe him over Stiles?”

“Y/N, he practically told me that he killed Donovan.”

Your shoulders fall, left speechless for a minute, before you whimper out; “like that?”

Because bashing a mans head in seemed worse then just simply killing a man out of self defense.

Scott doesn’t reply.

Scoffing, you move to step forward, but Scott holds you back, muttering about it not being safe. You just ignore him -- because how could Stiles not be safe --fighting his grip wildly and thanking, silently, when Hayden lets out a cry of pain. It’s selfish, you know, but it catches Scott’s attention and Theo’s too, which allows you to rush out the door like you’d intended.

You catch Stiles just as he’s stepping into his jeep.

“Stiles!”

You fall to a stop just before him, two or so feet away from him. Stiles’ seems stunned at the sight of you, and there’s an echo of silence that hangs in the air as he slowly steps back from his jeep, gently shutting the door. Even though rain pours over both of you, you can tell he’s crying, and you know he can tell the same on you.

Neither of you know what to say. Stiles looks like he wants to say something but looks afraid, petrified even. So you speak up first.

“Did... Did you?”

Stiles shuffles on his feet, glancing downwards before swallowing thickly; “do you think I did?”

No. No, I don’t. You want to scream, but something holds you back. Not in that way.

Stiles steps forward at your silence; “do... do you believe me?”

Yes, without a doubt.

Instead, all you can manage is a shaky; “I don’t know.”

Stiles doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t plead with you to, he doesn’t try to defend himself, he doesn’t scoff or anything. He just stands there, for a minute, before taking a step back, moving towards his jeep and pulling open the door. Your body itches, flinching to run after him as he slips into the drivers seat and turns on the engine, the lights blinding you.

And you want to, needing to do something as he begins to pull away.

But you don’t. 

You don’t know why.

-

“Stiles!”

He halts, hesitating by the front of the police station. He obviously hadn’t expected for you to be there.

Falling to a stop behind him, you hesitate, breath heavy and laboured. Your heart is pounding erratically against your chest and it feels as if you might collapse right then and there. But... But you needed to say this. You needed Stiles to know.

“I believe you.” 

Turning, Stiles glances back at you, lips left parted. He doesn’t step towards you, doesn’t say anything; he stays rooted exactly where he is, refusing to do anything else.

“I believe you, Stiles.”

“Then, last night...--”

“I was confused, I... I’ve been confused, Stiles.” Your breath quivers, shaking with desperation as you take a small step forward. You want to reach out for Stiles, but you don’t know where you stand. You don’t understand anything. It seems to be the only thing you can properly actually understand right now. “And last night I was, I... It doesn’t matter. What matters is I believe you, of course I believe you.”

You take another step forward, this time actually reaching out for him but he pulls away before you can touch him, moving away from your touch.

Your hand hangs in the air, helpless.

“You don’t even know what happened,” Stiles reminds.

“Doesn’t matter,” you whimper, feeling your eyes water. “Whatever it is, I trust you. I believe you.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything.

Silence echoing, you glance to your left, swallowing thickly. “You’re going to tell your dad?”

Nodding, Stiles murmurs his response. 

“I saw Malia pulling out, she... she, um, drive you here?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, she did.”

Lowering your gaze to your feet, you fiddle with your fingers, swallowing thickly. “You could’ve asked me. I... I could’ve helped you.”

“Drive me to the police station or cover up a murder?”

Inhaling deeply, you shake your head. “Why didn’t you tell me, Stiles?”

“Same reason you won’t tell me the truth either.”

Scoffing, you wipe at your eyes, trying to fight away and hide the tears that stream down your cheeks without fault. It’s obvious Stiles’ sees them, how can he not? And it hurts he does nothing to stop them. That the two of you are in a situation where we can’t.

“You want me to tell you? Tell you the truth?” Throwing your hands up beside you, you cross the distance until you’re directly in front of Stiles’, never wavering your gaze away from your own. “The truth is, I really don’t know what’s going on with me. I have no clue. And i’m scared. More than that; i’m petrified because I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know anything... everything’s so messed up right now and I can’t help. I can’t do anything. And I want to help you, but I don’t know how.”

Stiles stares back at you, taking in your words as they echo amongst the silence. You wait for him to say something back, begging him, albeit silently, to say something. To say he understands, to accept your apology for doubting him, even if it had only been for a second, last night. To pull you into his arms and hold you tight and just never let go because right now, all you wanted above everything else, was him.

But he doesn’t. Doesn’t do any of those things.

Instead, he takes a small step back, small, just a shuffle and you feel your heart plummet as he simply just shakes his head at you. 

“I’m gonna go talk to my dad.” He mumbles, voice oddly quiet. “I just gotta go talk to my dad.”

And then, like he had last night, he turns, pulling open the door and walking into the police station without another word. You let him, not able to find any fight within you to stop him, as you feel your heart shatter. And you watch him, until you can no longer see him, and you’re just left there.

Lost.

-

“You know, this really isn’t how I anticipated it all going down.”

Meeting Theo’s eyes, you scoff; “what the hell are you talking about?”

Theo just smirks, stood across from you. There’s a glint in his gaze, and suddenly, something wells in you. Something you’ve felt before. Something that maybe you’d felt this entire time, but just ignored. Couldn’t really sense but... it’s the same thing you’d felt when Stiles had been possessed by the nogitsune.

A witches instinct...

Suddenly, your chest tightens with worry.

“You know, out of everyone, I thought you’d be the first one to figure me out.” Theo continues, not at all threatened or concerned by this new knowledge that’s come to you. It only sickens you with worry more. Because if he was so unconcerned with you finding out the truth, that meant he’d already done something. Or was in the process of doing something.

“What did you do?” You hiss, clenching your jaw and narrowing your eyes at the boy. “Where’s Liam? Hayden? Scott?”

“Liam and Hayden are fine, for now,” Theo dismisses with a roll of his eyes. “It’s Scott you should be concerned about.”

Anger flooding you, you rush forward, but the second you move to do so, your vision turns blurry and your head feels heavy. The familiar pang in your forehead returns and while the anger still hangs around, nestles in the bit of your stomach, you find you no longer have the strength to do anything about it.

Actually, it hits harder then you’re sure it ever has and you find your knees collapse beneath you, falling to the ground with a thud as you let out a cry of pain.

“It’s a shame really,” Theo continues, crouching before you and brushing back a strand of loose hair. You let out a growl as he does so which only elicits a laugh from Theo as he shakes his head at you. “I had hoped to have you fully with me when this all came to be.”

“With you,” you repeat, slowly, unsure, your eyes scrunching shut as another painful pang echoes through your head. “What the hell are you talking about? Where’s Scott? What... What did you do to him?”

“I came for a pack, Y/N. And I intend to have one. Scott’s just not apart of it.”

You move to lash out at him, push him back, do something but you can feel your heart pounding against your chest and the second you move to do anything, you find you have no strength in you to actually do it. The pounding in your head gets worst and your vision turns blurry, your hands shake as you clutch at yourself desperately, trying to keep yourself upright. And every bit of struggle that leaves your body only causes Theo to laugh at your pitiful attempt.

“You’re your own worst enemy, Y/N.”

Hissing, you bite back the cry that threatens to leave your lips. “Fuck off.”

“There’s so much power inside of you, just waiting to be released, but you won’t let it. You’re too afraid to.”

Eyes falling shut, you can’t stop, not this time, the cry that leaves your lips, letting out a whimper. “Stiles was right,” you breathe, chest caving in as a convulsion racks your body, unable to stop Theo as he grabs a hold of you, hauling you up to your feet. And even if you hate it, even if disgust burns deep inside of you, you have no strength to fight Theo as he picks you up, carrying you somewhere. 

Your head simply lulls, staring at the concrete ground in disbelief. “Stiles was right.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Theo mumbles, his words an echoing mumble in your own head. “Once Scott is dead and i’m the alpha, i’ll help you get control over your full powers. Just like a promise. You’ll be unstoppable, just the way I want you.”

You feel your back hit something and as you blink upwards, a cry leaving your lips, you realize you’re staring at the ceiling of a car. A ceiling you recognize. Theo’s truck. You’re in Theo’s truck.

You feel him grab your feet, pushing them upwards until they’re positioned on the end of the car seat. When you feel the uncomfortable sensation of rope around your ankles, you move, whimpering as you try to sit up and stop him, but your head pounds and every movement makes you lose proper sight of everything more.

So, you end up just falling back, completely and utterly vulnerable.

“Where... Where are you taking me?”

“No where,” Theo shrugs, “I just have to keep you away until it’s all finished.”

You blink, swallowing thickly, as a single tear slips past you and rolls down your cheek. You felt like a fool, an absolute idiot. You’d fallen for Theo’s good guy act so quickly, so... easily. You’d been charmed by him and his smile and it’d even made you lose sight of what was important -- your friends and family. It had made you doubt Stiles...

You were such an idiot. “

“I just need you know Y/N, that I truly did come back for you. You maybe more than anyone else.”

Face scrunching in distress, hating how helpless you are, you let out a cry.

The pounding gets worst and your breath becomes laboured, getting trapped at the back of your throat as your eyes suddenly become heavy. The idea of just falling asleep and waking up and this all being just some sort of nightmare is all too tempting to ignore that when Theo pulls you forward, with the intent to tie your wrists, you barely even realize, your vision fading to black.

-

“--I never lied about why I came to Beacon Hills.”

Blinking slowly, you let out a groan, moving to sit up before you realize something feels wrong. Your vision clears as you register the car ceiling before you, the distant ache in your head, as memories resurface. As you sit up, trying to gather where you are and your bearings, your suspicions of what happened are only confirmed when you see the roped wrapped tightly around your wrists.

And you realize you’re also no longer sat on the backseat of the truck and rather on the floor, tucked tightly in between the back of the front seats and the backseat themselves.

“I’m here for a pack.”

Breath halting, you swallow thickly at the familiar sound of Theo’s voice. He’s clearly talking to someone, but... who?

“I came for the werecoyote,” Theo continues, “the one whose first instinct is to kill. I came for the Banshee, the girl surrounded by death. I came for the dark Kitsune, the Beta with anger issues... I came for Void Stiles. That’s the pack I want.” Then, pausing, Theo continues, “and I came for the witch, whose power is the greatest amongst all of you but just doesn’t know it yet.”

Swallowing thickly, your heart plummets at the mention of yourself.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t include Scott.”

Scott... Scott was in danger.

“Your heartbeat’s rising, Stiles.”

Stiles? Stiles was here?

Pushing yourself up, best to your ability, you try to maneuver, despite the lack of use of your limbs, to glance out the window trying to catch sight of either of them.

You can’t.

“It’s not because you’re afraid. Nogitsune is gone, but you’ve still got more blood on your hands than any of us.”

There’s an echo of silence, then; “i’m about to get more.”

You halt when you hear footsteps, nearing footsteps that sound like they’re getting closer to the truck. Glancing around you, best you can, your eyes widen when you see the familiar head of Theo, back turned to you, and the faintest glimpse of Stiles directly in front of him.

When Theo turns towards the truck, you duck quickly, hoping not to have been caught.

Your worry fades when you hear him say; “i’ll tell you where your dad is, if you promise not to help Scott.”

Without hesitation, there’s a thud, and one glance back out the window, you just manage to catch sight of Stiles’ swinging his arm towards Theo, the latter stumbling back in response. But he doesn’t seem all that effected if the laugh that leaves is lips is anything to go by.

“There he is!” Theo cheers, “that’s Void Stiles. It felt good, didn’t it?”

You watch Stiles’ land one more punch on Theo, this time, sending him to the ground.

Using this to your advantage, you lean forward, enough to bring your wrists to your lips, biting at the rope in an attempt to free yourself. You still listen closely, your heart still pounding against your chest erratically. But the fact that you no longer feel as if you’re going to pass out, like you’d felt before, you use to your advantage. You didn’t know when it will happen again.

“We won’t tell Scott though,” Theo pants, voice wavering, “cause you can’t lose your best friend, right? Even though we both knew you never needed him. Or--! What about Y/N? Should we tell Y/N?” Halting, just for a moment, your breath stops short, fearing Theo’s next words. “What if she saw this all? How do you think she would react--?”

Stiles’ lunges forward, you can tell because you can no longer see him. But Theo’s words worry you -- did he know you were awake?

Inhaling sharply, you push the thought aside, moving to untie yourself once more.

“You hate me now, but you’ll get it eventually,” Theo pants, “this is the hard part. Cause you can’t help Scott and save your dad’s life. You’ve still got time, Stiles. You’ve still got time.”

You know, even though it’ll kill him, who Stiles’ will go for.

So you quicken your pace, best you can, trying to rip the rope around your wrists as fast as you can. Digging your teeth into the rope and ignoring the disgusting taste. Your heart leaps with hope when you manages to get a good grip, enough to loosen the tightness and wiggle your wrists. As silence echoes outside the truck, and then a set of footsteps grow quieter, you manage to free one wrist, and then the other.

A bout of panic floods your chest and pain and you know instantly, even if you somehow hadn’t felt it before, that it’s Scott. And you need to hurry.

But then, another set of footsteps follow, and your chest tightens with worry, scared that Theo will catch you. Because for some reason, even if deep down you know you can protect yourself, Theo scares you. However, he doesn’t check on you, he simply opens the door to the drivers seat and you’re quick to position yourself in a way he can’t see your now free wrists. 

You stay quiet, eerily so, listening to him turn on the engine and speed off, God knows where.

-

“Let go--!”

“Come on!”

Huffing, a hiss of pain leaves your lips as Theo pulls painfully on your hair, tugging you through the hallways through the school with a quick and determined step. Your feet shuffle beneath you uselessly, trying to catch your bearing but ultimately failing each time you do.

The grip on your hair hurts but you find yourself, stupidly, too stupid to do anything about it. And the pain that floods your entire body, due to Scott and whatever’s happen to him, isn’t helping either because every movement, every pull and twist Theo moves on you sends your whole being into a blinding pain.

It takes you a second, as Theo takes a sharp turn, that he’s pulling you into the library. Nor do you hear the two other voices until Theo cuts in, voice sharp; “bad timing.” And he lets go of you, letting you fall to the floor with a thud as he races forward, stopping directly in front of Scott and Mason.

“I mean, seriously. You couldn’t have waited five minutes?”

He grabs a hold of Mason, tossing him and knocking him out with one simple movement before zoning in on your brother.

“I should’ve stayed,” Theo hisses, angry as he glances down at his claws, “I should’ve made sure.”

Barely able to stand on his own feet, Scott mumbles; “because now you have to kill me yourself.”

“They’re still mine. She’s,” he turns, pointing a sharp finger at you. Your breath halts as you meet your brothers tired and defeated gaze. “Still mine. Maybe not yet, but they’ll come around.”

Shaking his head, Scott simply says; “not for you.”

And you see it, before it happens. Feel the anger that floods Theo, but it feels like all you can do is watch as he suddenly lunges forward, digging his claws directly into Scott’s stomach. A cry leaves your lips in response, tearing past your lips and bouncing off the walls of the library as Scott’s eyes glows red in response to the pain and you feel it well deep within your own stomach. You feel every bit of pain he does, only, you won’t die because of it.

“They’re not like you,” Scott pants, and you call out for him weakly, pushing yourself up. “They never will be.”

“Because i’m a Chimera? Because i’m not a real werewolf?”

“Because you’re barely even human.”

But you get to your feet a second too late. Because the second you’re steady, Theo is already digging his claws further into Scott, knocking him back until he falls against the steps, a groan leaving his lips in response. And you don’t hear the cry that leaves your lips as you watch your brothers eyes lull shut and his head tip to the side, his skin growing pale and the red of his eyes fading.

And that feeling, the one you’d felt back at the hospital when Scott had died a first time, floods you again. The feeling of emptiness and pain because Scott was dying, or... was already dead and you’d just stood there and done nothing cause you were too afraid. Because you were afraid to use your powers. Because you were too much of a coward to do anything.

It’s that, mixed with everything else, that causes you to just... let go.

A scream tears past your lips, and you don’t see it, but your eyes glow purple, as a wave of it pulsates around you. Your powers bursts through you, completely and powerfully, directed at Theo only as he’s sent flying back and into one of the shelves of books, landing with a crash. Everything seems to slow as it happens, as everything you’ve been holding back just breaks free.

But the feeling of ease that washes you doesn’t last long, not even a second, as you rush towards Scott, your brother, your twin brother, dead...

“No!” You sob, voice cracking, eyes watering as you fall next to him. “No, no, no... Please, God, no... Scott... No, you can’t. I can’t do this...” Pulling at his hands, at his jacket, your hands shake before you as you observe the blood now coating your hands completely. 

Scott’s blood.

You shove at him desperate for him to come back.

“Y/N...” Mason calls, hesitant, voice light, unsure. “Y/N...”

“This is all my fault, this is... I could’ve... I could’ve done something....” Eyes flickering from Scott, to Mason’s own, your breath comes out in short rasps, trying to find the words but all that leaves your lips is incoherent mumbles of distress as that feeling of emptiness won’t leave you.

It just won’t leave.

You don’t register falling into Mason’s arms, or the fact that fifteen minutes pass before your mother even arrives. You don’t even notice her come in, not properly, not completely, distressed and upset as the tears just keep falling from your eyes and the emptiness hovers.

Is this how it will always feel now?

But then, you hear Mason trying to tell your mother that trying to bring Scott back was hopeless... that it’s been fifteen minutes since his heart last beat and that it was impossible... And the words seem to hit, seem to register within you as your eyes finally seem to properly zone in on your mother. You’re pulling back from Mason’s grasp and reaching out for your mother with slow, lethargic movements.

“Mom... he... you can’t...”

But the words don’t come out because you don’t want them to be true.

And she doesn’t stop, even when you try to reach out for her. She just continues to give him compression's, going on that Scott can’t die like this and that he’s an Alpha and...--

But then she pulls back, hitting Scott hard directly in the middle of his chest and suddenly, the emptiness just... goes away.

Then your ears hurt and you realize Scott is roaring, loudly, and it’s pounding your ears so badly that you have to press your palms against them to stop the pain. Stop the pounding.

-

“You still have me, you know?”

Blinking, Scott slowly glances up, catching your eyes from where you’re stood at his doorway. He doesn’t say anything, simply staring at you with a defeated look. And the truth is, you stare back at him with a similar one.

But, you need him to know.

“You’ll always have me.”

And while Scott doesn’t smile, because, how could he? And he doesn’t say anything either. You know, you just do, that he appreciates your words. Appreciates the reassurance. And there’s an understanding between the two of you as he nods, and you hold his gaze just a little while longer to make sure before walking off, heart heavy.

-

Part 36?

Tag List: @potterheadbbc - @sunsetblake - @mythicalamphitrite - @loverofwaytoomanythings618 - @minuteandahalf - @mnk - @gazebros - @colie87 - @quilliamfears - @quellum - @pessimisticbullshit - @kaylinfayezink - @maiabiovillage - @tr1chst3r - @arkcangel - @quirkytwinkles - @thegirlwhoimagined - @noones-girl1980 - @illumminated - @fairchild345 - @all-will-be-well-love - @animemes-trash - @starryrevelations - @literallyhelpme - @theskytraveler - @jinandtion1c - @ilovemymoose - @bibliophilesquared - @stilessarcasmqueen - @mersuperwholocked-lowlife - @newtsshelbys - @wyattgoleft - @pancakefancake - @saturno-in-the-night - @pizzamelon7384 - @riskregretting - @mdgrdians - @ravenclawnerdfromnarnia - @franchisefan14 - @lovingpeterparker - @audreysduvxl - @kararanae23 - @alioop3818 - @a-gir1-has-n0-name - @andyl394 - @sclestial - @jayymocha - @2ptonpt - @itsfangirlmendes- @deafeningmusicdetective - @alex–awesome–22 - @nicholerodz  - @kellbell44- @serrahruby - @agentmarvel13 - @egg-in-a-spork - @nickigv - @vxidnik - @marvelousgab - @emmaleighrose- @danielag1969 - @digicharr - @shantayok - @cherry3bombshell - @thatprofessionalfangirl - @itsjaynebird - @grippleback-galaxy - @dafukbish - @randomfanfictiontime - @unicorn-sparkles123 - @sammyrenae68 - @myfanficlibrarium - @liveforthenight130318- @booknymph02 - @smileyouresopretty - @fionnthebandersnacc- @voidsarahh - @kal-pal - @darlingimmafangirl - @burningmusicmarchi - @celacaveremo - @maolhy71706 - @supernatural-kinda-girl - @wherever-life-takes-us - @natalien-92 - @letmebeyoursforever - @lonelyforeverlina - @parkerschurros - @seninjakitey - @runway-to-my-aid

[noocturnalchild]

Of Thieves and Poets

Warning : Mention of abuse, light depiction of wounds, hurt

Well, that was a hard chapter to write, mainly cause I’m still strugling with my English, and sometimes, ideas are here but I find no words to describe them as I want to !

Many thanks to a great friend who’s always been there to beta read my fics and correct the MANY language mistakes I’m still making,it’s a shame that I can’t tag her here !

Sara maybe you’ll never read this but I LOVE YOU ( this is me talking to myself lol)

Also many thanks to all who are sharing and liking my fics, I love you guys, you are the best !

All the poetry in this chapter is William Carlos Williams’ ! 

Chapter one here ! 

Chapter 2 

* 

Give me something to eat! Let me take you to the hospital, I said and after you are well you can do as you please. She smiled, Yes you do what you please first then I can do what I please

“Who’s she?”

The day Laura died, he wrote his most accomplished poem. It rested between her cold fingers, folded in a small sheet of damp paper and he briefly wondered if the dead could read. Heavy rain washed the sleepy city that day, and everyone said that they’d never seen so many white peonies in the same place before. He buried all his other poem books with her, tucked between her curls and the black and white satin.

He never made a copy.

Paterson didn’t write love poems anymore. But never were his fingers as ink stained, bruised and abused by so many hours spent writing as they were now, and never was his desk inundated by so many notebooks. They piled up in complete disorder, competing with books and tools, making the old wood squeak uncomfortably.

“Who’s she”

Only now he saw her fiddling with the framed photo he kept on his living room table, so that it was always the first thing he saw as he woke up.

“Wife?”

Paterson didn’t answer.

Mina had her back turned to him. She couldn’t see the man’s eyes watering, or the frown of his brows, nor could she feel his struggle with his breath, repressing the tides of anguish that menaced to crash on him again.

“Gorgeous, dude! bet she gives great head” She turned to look at him over her shoulder, winked suggestively.

Beaming and smug at the same time, Mina looked like one who’s sure just dropped something so smart and funny, completely oblivious of the hands clutching on the cold marble of the kitchen counter. White knuckles, white pain…

“No complaints.“

Paterson’s reply of choice. Life was going on for everybody, for him too. Doc got a TV in his bar after all. Marie went to New York and Everett to LA. And he was still a bus driver, eating cereals every morning, writing in his yellow pages and sitting on the wet benches of Paterson’s waterfalls, so why would he complain?

“Go and freshen up, bathroom first door to the left”

“You’re no fun” She stuck out her tongue and left. Paterson couldn’t be mad.

Laura was laughing, straddling the arm of the sofa and eyeing him with mischief in her eyes. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Won’t ya help me with my clothes?”

“I can’t do much with a broken wrist”

“It hurts”

(…)

“Dude, come on, so prudish!”

Laura had a hand on her mouth now, in mock shock, her eyes were still laughing, and Paterson was confused, a pretty blush rising to his cheeks. He remembered now that the only clothes he had that might fit Mina were Laura’s, and even those were big for the bony creature waiting for his help in his bathroom.

“Hold… hold on a second”

Paterson drew in a shaky breath, fetched one of his sleep shirts from his bed drawers, strode to open the bathroom door and… oh God.

A trembling dry leaf stood before him. Only in her white crop top and equally white panties; Paterson imagined her cracking under the passers-by’s soles, giving in under their rough stumpings, each one leaving a stain on her weak frame. Paterson’s eyes descended to her bare thighs, and she kept her eyes on the floor.

“Jesus… Who… who did this to you?”

Her thighs were a hideous map, little red and yellowish scabbed dots and circles on tarnished, discolored skin.

She shrugged, eyes avoiding his. Why would he care, why was he so insistent, why couldn’t he just be like the others, why won’t he try something with her, on her, like she deserves… she would let him, this one, she would.

“Just help me with my top” a wobbly voice replied, but Paterson was already looking for something in his medicine cabinet.

“Sit on the stool there” His hands were shaking as he put the ointment and the bandages on the side and proceeded to wet a washcloth.

“Can… I?” He kneeled, and their eyes met. She kept silent and nodded and he thought the sparkle in her eyes was gratitude.

With infinite gentle touches, Paterson washed her thighs and legs, dried them carefully, applied the ointment and wrapped them in clean bandages.

Laura was watching in reverence. The scene exuded something religious; the saint washing the sinner’s faults. And none spoke a word.

Afterwards, Mina laid in white clean sheets, but for all the comfort she had, she couldn’t sleep the few hours separating the night from dawn. She counted the hours, watching the bus driver as he slept peaceful and soft; not so far from her spot on the sofa.

The domestic rituals, the warm clothes, the vanilla soap smell lingering, the nice buzzing of the fridge in a quiet space, and the dim light he kept on just for her… His… his kindness coiled her like sticky ropes. Mina was suffocating.

She got up, slid in her dirty jeans, but kept his shirt on, and with a final brush of his hair, she took his watch and slipped out of the quiet house, and the monsters took her in their arms again.

***

Recycled air and synthetic notes, shopping carts rolling and low, lustful giggles.

With his favorite brand of cereal in hand, Paterson’s food shopping was almost done for the day. He was just strolling, verses starting to form in the fog of his mind as he saw two forms melting in each other, just against one of the snack vending machines. A smile began to tug on his lips. Life was simple, young lovers making out in malls and supermarkets, in the streets and gardens; the boy handsy, in baggy jeans and a loose jumper, fake golden chains around black collar, the girl…the girl.

Paterson’s mind went blank, and verses fled away like frightened pigeons.

“Oi man, whatcha lookin’ at!”

The guy addressed a dazed Paterson, and the girl turned her head from off her lover’s chest.

In all the scenarios she imagined at night, curled up in the corners of the streets and between the brushwood of the parks , meeting him again while in the arms of another man was never on the list. It shouldn’t be like that, it wasn’t supposed to be like that. He shouldn’t think that she… but what was she anyway? She was everything he might think of her now.

He was so beautiful she wanted to bury her pain in his chest, between the threads of his regal hair. Curl all the hurt in a bundle and he would take it, in his large warm palm. He would know how to make it disappear, like by magic, vanish in thin air. With a touch of his finger pads, he could wash away scars; wipe away the purples and the blues and the burns. He was so clean she feared to touch him. He was so wholesome and she felt so queasy, so sickening she wanted to puke. Her hand skimmed the hidden pocket in her rat nibbled jean vest; the watch was still there, burning a hole in its worn fabric. She didn’t pass it on to Ian. It earned her new cigarette burns and a slap that made her nose bleed a little, but she had survived worse treatments.

“Who’s that, you know that guy? You do boring now?”

Carlos giggled, showcasing many missed teeth. He pinched her sides playfully, slapped her cheek playfully, squeezed her tits playfully, and she wished to die.

“Yo dude, wanna suck my dick? Ow no? Maybe a threesome? My chick here gives amazing head”

Oh, that again.

“See, not interested”

Carlos giggles sounded like gallows bells.

“I’m not your chick, for fuck’s sake!”

Mina screamed in frustration, pushed a stunned Carlos away, wriggled free from his sloppy hold, hand reaching out for salvation.

“I’m… I’m sorry!”

What she meant to be loud and clear, came out as a choked whisper.

But Paterson was already turning his back to her. This time he didn’t wait for her, not even a hum or a discarding hand, his long silhouette drawing away, swallowed by the light.

Life was going on, no complaints.

***

Mina was out, really out.

Even when she told him she wouldn’t play “pretend” with him anymore, Carlos still hung around for some time, and the money she could get from him she saved with scrutiny, starving herself to death. She never came back to the “pack”; her steps always took her to the quiet small house at the end of the stairs. She lurked there, watching when the lights went on, and stayed hunched behind shrubs and bushes, clutching the watch to her heart, listening to their combined tic tic tic… the mechanics soothed her, and she slept there every night.

Whatever happens, never sell the watch.

She started doing windshield scrubbing too, helped some nice grocery shop owners with their crates for some dollars, and by the end of the month she could buy a dozen cigarette packs and tissue boxes to sell in the streets. She was always hungry, but at least she could picture him in the back of her mind smiling, not disappointed in her anymore. He might not know, for now, but the thought was comforting. The thought was like a pier, supporting the bridge she was building towards him and she was sure she would reach him again, one day.

***

Sun benches at the curb bespeak another season, truncated poplars that having served for shade served also later for the fire.

It was Saturday morning. The rainy clouds of the day before blew over for a shiny crystal sun to come out. Excitement and expectations wired the air with buzzing electricity around Hinchliff Stadium. Kids and teens, middle aged and old people formed noisy groups, stomping on empty chips bags and placing bets.

Mina thought herself lucky when she laid hands on second hand baseball game tickets. Her wrist completely healed now, she roamed the area around the stadium, surfed the crowd, hands full, voice rusty from a cold she was nursing, over exploited vocal chords, yelling, trying to convince hurried passers-by to buy, by means of jokes and charms.

That’s when she saw him.

“Fuckin’ Carlos” a livid Mina stumbled a few steps backward, eyes seeking a gap between the crowds, quickly calculating her way out.

Fuck!

She could recognize Ian’s red sneakers anywhere. She thanked the heavens for his poor cover-up skills, giving her the high ground for a moment. She knew he could see her, but she took her chance. One group blocked his vision for a moment, and Mina took off her oversized leather jacket, let her hair down and started to walk slowly in the opposite direction.

She mentally counted to ten, chewing furiously on an overused gum, her hands started sweating. She knew that if caught this time, it wouldn’t just be cigarette burns on her thighs.

So Mina ran.

She ran aimlessly, not looking back, eyes closed and breath shagged. She could feel the adrenaline rush shot through her bones, just like every time she plunged her skillful hands inside the pockets of an oblivious passer-by, but this time there would be no euphoria of the gain waiting at the end of the road, just a sliced head.

Five minutes of sprinting and she couldn’t take it anymore, were her lungs that damaged? Fuck you Carlos, couldn’t keep his trap shut! Fuck! She was losing speed, she could hear Ian’s red sneakers batting the asphalt, tap tap tap, just behind. It was common belief that, at moments like these, the film of your whole life would flash back before your eyes, that the spool of all your wrongs would unfurl the threads that would wind around your legs and throat, choke you to death, drag you to hell. But Mina only saw two amber gems, Mina saw warmth and large, strong arms wrapping her in endless depths of comfort, and she felt peace descend upon her, Mina saw the future so she ran faster, and this time, with one destination in mind.

[stellar-alley]

Everfalls

•Chapter 9•

This is based off of the artwork by oceanteeeth on Instagram! Also shout out to my Beta super.rose.cosplays!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

(Summary: Richie and Stan go buck wild while Eddie figures out his inner feelings. )

~

That day, after school, Richie waited for Eddie at his locker. The wolf only needed one sniff to realize that Eddie had already come and left. With a sigh, Richie left and made his way back to Roscoe. Where he was surprised to see none other than Stan the Man leaning up against the passenger side door.

“Staniel! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Richie exclaimed once he saw his best friend.

“Richie it’s Tuesday, it’s our day to go, as you say ‘buck wild’ and go to the convenience store” Stan begins to explain.

“Yes yes yes I remembered” Richie did not.

For the longest time Stan and Richie had a tradition of going to the corner store Tuesday after school to essentially go ‘buck wild’ and eat a bunch of junk food.

Richie clicked the unlock button on his car keys and Roscoe’s doors unlocked. Stan opened the side door, Richie walked around to the driver’s side. “It’s fine if you forgot, really. You like Eddie and he’s the main thing on your mind-”.

Richie cut in, “What? Eddie’s a good friend, but I do not like him like that” he huffed as the engine roared to life.

“Don’t lie to me Rich, I see the way you look at him. You care for him-”

“And that’s it, okay? I care for him. I care about you too but that doesn't mean we’re gonna start frenching in the back” Richie retorted, his voice filled with annoyance, his gaze never leaving the road.

“It’s not like that…” The dark haired teen’s voice trailed off, a hint of defeat filled his voice.

The friends sat in tense silence for a couple minutes as Richie’s mind went wild with thoughts. Feelings he always tried so hard to repress finally floating to the surface.

When he finally spoke, he was quiet, almost a whisper, “He’s the first Ancestor I’ve ever met. It just- It felt so good to finally have someone who shares my secret”.

“I know”

“No, Stanny, you don’t. I’ve lived my whole fucking life with this secret, eating away at me from the fucking inside out. Now I finally have someone who I can be myself around, my true self. And he’s so cute” He dragged out the O in So, it made the corner of Stan’s lip curly ever so slightly.

“You’re not wrong. I think he is pretty cute” Stan nodded in agreement.

Richie’s grip tensed under the steering wheel, “You what?!” he glared at Stan.

Stanley returned the stare before breaking out in a laugh, “You’re so whipped!” He slapped his thigh.

Richie didn’t need to ask what he meant. He felt it. His eyes had turned their signature yellow and his blood was burning from within his veins, just at the thought of someone else having feelings for Eddie.

“Sorry.” Richie whispered as if his feelings had somehow betrayed him.

“Aww does Wichie have a whittle cwush?” Stan teased.

Richie huffed and rolled his eyes, not a fan of this. “Yeah, shut it Staniel before I rip your throat out with my teeth” He threatened, but his voice had no anger, only amusement.

“Fine. But seriously. You know this is okay right? This crush?”

“It’s not a crush, okay? Just fucking drop it”

Stan rolled his eyes, “Whatever you say Wolfie”, this got a smirk out of Richie.

“At least I haven't been pinning over my best friend since the fucking third grade...” Richie mumbles under his breath.

“Hey! That's totally different from your situation” Stan turned on the defensive.

“Oh yeah, like your feelings for Bill are any different than my feelings for Eddie.” Richie rolled his eyes.

“So you admit you have feelings for Eddie?” Stan asks eagerly.

“Well yeah that's a given, he's adorable! But now we're talking about your love life.” Richie smirks deviously over at Stan.

“No we aren't” Stan shoots daggers at Richie. In response the werewolf just smiled a shit eating grin.

~

Eddie ran home after school. It’s not that he didn’t want to see Richie, he just wanted to figure out what he was feeling before he did see him again. His heart practically beat out of his chest when Richie touched him, his stomach would twist and his nerves would sky rocket. Deep down he knew what it was, but he didn’t want to face it, how could he? His entire life, his mother told him how wrong it was to be gay. Plus Richie probably doesn't even feel the same way, why would he? Eddie literally betrayed his own people after all.

I need to blow off some steam.

Eddie looked outside and noticed the sun was just setting, so he had some time before dark. Just enough time for a run. He changed into his new running gear and started on his way through the forest. The thick scent of evergreen and grass cleared his head by the time he reached the city. Once he reached the city he got down and shifted. He was not really in the mood to explain to anyone why he was out so late at night.

He started aimlessly exploring Derry, hopping around and doing some people watching. Eddie went around town, familiarizing himself with the area. He found the Subway Alley was talking about that one day, he even stumbled upon a comic book shop that he made a mental note to go to once he was human. The rabbit began making his way down the residential streets, admiring the architecture and seeing what the residents of Derry were doing this time of night.

He stopped when he reached a familiar house. Somehow he’d subconsciously made his way into a backyard he knew now as the Tozier’s. Nostalgia flooded his head as he recalled the day he first saw Richie, even then he thought the boy was cute…

A thought dawned on him, I won’t be able to outrun these feelings. Eddie recalled the various times his heart has skipped a beat or when it sped up, when butterflies are let loose in his stomach, when he blushes, all because of Richie.

Might as well deal with this shit before it fucking eats away at me from the inside. Plus, what’s the worst that could happen? I admit my feelings, he dosen’t feel the same, I loose the only person who’s ever made me feel safe and at home- Okay this could end pretty badly- fuck my life.

Eddie didn’t even notice that as he was monologuing in his head, he had edged his way up towards the Tozier residence. Though Richie’s bedroom was on the second floor, Eddie could just make out the vague outline of Richie, was he at the window? Or maybe standing at his desk? The rabbit wasn't sure. But what he was sure of was that the voice he heard was indeed Richie’s.

It was easy to hear the singing coming through his open window. Richie practically belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs. “OHHHH EDDIE BABY WON’T YOU COME TO MY ARRRRRMS, TONNNIIGHT!” He sang out as he danced around his room.

Eddie couldn’t deny the feeling that spread through his body as his heart skipped a beat when he heard the lyrics.

What other Eddie does he know?

No matter what explanation he tried to come up with that would explain these current events could not cover up the feeling that Eddie had. Deep down inside he knew that song was for him. He listened until the song ended, that’s when Richie’s phone started ringing.

The bunny could just make out his voice as he talked with whoever was on the other end of the line, “Yeah, you’re here? Like outfront? Jesus Billiard I could’ve just texted you the pages of the textbook” There was a pause, “Okay give me a sec”. Eddie took that as his cue to leave.

He made his way towards the front of the house where he saw Bill who was standing beside his bike, Silver. Bill was one of the first of the Losers to get their license yet most times (unless he was driving the others) he opted to ride his bike.

Eddie watched as Richie ran out to meet him with a textbook in hand. He didn’t stay much longer, it was getting dark and he didn’t want to be out in the pitch black.

Eddie stayed in his rabbit form until he found a little tree covered area away from any possible wandering eyes. He shifted and walked the rest of the way home.

Being an Ancestor grants him some heightened senses, sight, scent, and hearing. That being said, as Eddie shifted, it was surprising that he didn’t hear the soft clicking of an iphone 8’s camera, nor did he hear the low, sudden gasp of Bill Denbrough.

Word Count: 1473

BILL? WHAT DID HE SEE? WHAT'S HE TAKING PICS OF? DID HE SEE EDDIE?

I know that this chapter is shorter but the next chapter is gonna be a long one as we get to see someone else's perspective... ANyways I hope you guys enjoyed!

Until next time

So Long and Goodnight.

~

[Taglist]

@richietoaster @s-onora @that-weird-girl-blog @beproudtozier @ghostnebula @bellarosewrites @s-s-georgie @lermanslogan @iamcupcakefrosting @madidraw @gazebobullshit @thoughtfullyyoungduck @aangzukos @ambitiousskychild @reddieonwheels @breadheadscorpius

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list!

[heathsbitch]

Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

ii. A NEW FRIEND

          Shock, amazement, wonder. All three emotions raged through Ivy's mind. She was speaking to the leader of the Peaky Blinders and in Birmingham! Her father had spoken about them a lot. He always complained that they were getting too big for his liking. He told her that they were a group of gangsters, cut-throats, that doubled as book-makers. He said that they were called the 'Peaky Blinders' because they blinded people with the razor blades stitched into their peaked caps. Ivy had always held a type of curiosity about them and now, she was finally meeting them. It was obvious when the girl thought about it. She knew that she was in Birmingham because of the accents and the smell, a man called Tommy saved her, and it was probably a razor blade that was in the hat. The pieces all slipped into place. But she was also confused for what felt like the hundredth time that day. 'Why would a gang of cut-throats and thieves save me?' She just didn't understand. Maybe her father was lying just because they were his competition? Either way, the girl was grateful that they took her far away from London, even if they were a bunch of strangers. After all, if they couldn't be trusted and were going to kill her, wouldn't they have done it already like Tommy said back in the bedroom?

Her thoughts came to a fast halt when she heard a knock at the door. "Come in." Thomas Shelby ordered. The first glimpse of ginger hair was all Ivy needed to know that it was Finn who had just been beckoned in. He had his eyes on the floor, was he always like this? "You can come closer, Finn. She doesn't bite." Thomas ordered the boy. Finn came closer to the pair but still remained at the bottom of the steps. "Aunt P-Polly is here to see you." He stuttered. "Take Ivy and introduce her to everyone. Make her feel at home, Finn." Thomas instructed and gestured to the small girl before him. Finn nodded, agreeing to his orders and Ivy followed him out of the door. Up close, Finn towered over the girl. He held maybe a foot over her in height but despite his height, Ivy didn't find him intimidating in any way. Thomas stopped the teenagers before they could get all the way out, "Ivy. If you have any questions, I'm sure Finn will be happy to answer them."

"Okay. Thank you, Thomas." She responded before walking out of the door. They walked back into what was definitely their betting shop. Now, only four people remained: three men and one woman. "Um, I've been asked to introduce you all." Everybody's heads snapped towards Finn and Ivy. They all waited for Finn to speak. "This is Arthur, my oldest brother." A slim man with a moustache nodded to say 'Hi' and the girl returned his gesture with a smile. He then pointed to the man with the wonky hat and pout "That there is John, my other brother." He winked at Ivy and a red tint appeared on her face."This is Isaiah, he's the son of the preacher." A tall boy with dark skin walked up to the pair. He raised Ivy's hand up to his lips, bowed and kissed it. She snorted at the action and whispered a small, "Hi." Finn finally pointed to the woman in the room. She was fairly short with curly brown hair. She was standing next to John. "This is Esme. She's John's wife," Ivy gave her the same smile that she had given to Arthur earlier. "And everyone, this is Ivy." The people in the room gave her a nod or a smile and she returned the favour. "I'm Finn, as you can probably tell," He laughed when he spoke. "I'm the youngest out of the four brothers." Ivy's eyebrows furrowed, "Four?" she questioned as he had only said that John and Arthur were his brothers. "Yeah, four. Me, John, Arthur and Tommy."

"Oh, Thomas is your brother." He just nodded as a simple reply. "I also have a sister, Ada. But she lives in London." The small girl smiled at the thought of a good family, a safe one. Something she had longed for for a very long time.

Everybody else in the room went back to their previous conversations and Ivy continued to talk to Finn, she thought that he seemed sweet, kind. "So, how old are you and Isaiah, then?" His eyebrow twitched at the mention of Isiah's name. "Sixteen." He told me. "I'm fifteen, sixteen in a couple of weeks." She said to him. 'At least we have a few things in common.' A blanket of awkward silence rested over the teens. None of them knew what to say next so, Ivy tried to fill the silence, but she regretted the question as soon as it tumbled from her lips, "Do you guys actually blind people?" She mentally slapped herself for her stupid question. Luckily, Finn wasn't looking at the girl any more because her face contorted into one of regret and embarrassment. "What?" He chuckled at her question, she didn't think that he heard it. "It's fine, forget it." She replied all too quickly. "No, no, I wanna know now." He persisted and looked into her icy blue eyes. She, reluctantly, repeated her question "D-do you guys actually b-blind people?" He didn't laugh again and answered it seriously. Finn didn't look offended or confused at all which was a mental 'Hooray' for Ivy. "Um, sometimes, if we need to. Our job isn't all about blinding people though. We're book makers but sometimes we need to get our hands bloody." He didn't seem phased by the question at all.

"Have you ever blinded someone?" She mentally slapped herself again. 'Why am I asking these stupid questions? He's going to hate me.' She mentally scolded herself. Finn snorted, maybe he could see the regret plastered across the poor girl's face? "No, I've always been 'too young' for that kind of business." He made air quotes when he said the words 'too young'. Ivy's head bobbed when she listened to him, she liked his accent. It was slightly softer than a cockney one. "Have you ever done anything like that?" Blood; covering every crevice of her once-pure mind. The memories came back again. The bodies came back again. Ghosts and demons followed her every move, ever since that day; even before she had run away...

"Why did I say that? You're a lady of course you haven't." He placed his head in his hands. "You'd be surprised," The girl responded simply. Finn's eyes widened. "What?" She asked, worried that she might scare him off. "Don't look so scared," He assured her, "I'm fed up with all the prissy, whiny girls 'round here. It's finally nice to meet a girl that can actually stand up for herself." A grin emerged on her face. "Thanks."

"Do you wanna go sit in the house? It's a bit loud in here." She nodded at his proposition. "Sure." Ivy followed him into the main house and what she assumed was the living room. It was dark and followed the scheme of the rest of the house; dusky furniture with an orange tint in the air. Two plush sofas rested in the centre, all partially illuminated by the light of the fire. Finn seemed to be gaining more confidence the more that the pair spoke. "Are you close to your family?" He asked her as they sat on one of the sofa's together. She tensed at his question. "I-i'm sorry Ivy. I-i-." She cut him off. "It's okay. You don't need to apologise to me, Finn." The girl could've sworn that Finn had got closer to her as they talked, but she thought that it was probably just her mind. "Did you have a boyfriend? Back in London?" Her eyebrow rose in suspicion, "I-I'm just trying to fill the silence and get to know you better." He defended himself but stuttered in the process. "Some would say that you're trying to flirt with me, Finn." His entire face turned to the brightest shade of red, even the tips of his ears changed colour. "N-n-no. I-i was just curious." All of his confidence flew out of the window. "Relax. I was joking." He nervously laughed but still pursued an answer to the question. "So did you?" She grinned and licked her lips, "No, my father would scare all the boys away." She didn't want to explain further.

Finn nodded, as if understanding the girl's struggle. "Yeah, I can relate to that. All the girls are scared of me, being a Shelby and a Peaky Blinder scares them all away." She gave him a sympathetic smile and put her hand on his shoulder. "They say girls are attracted to 'bad' boys, Finn." A voice startled them. The teenagers both bounced away from each other. Thomas stood at the door with a smirk. How long had he been standing there for? "I'm going out to deal with some business," There was that word again, 'business'. She could tell he threw that term around a lot; so did her father. "Arthur's in charge so behave you two." He slipped out of the door and they both looked back at each other. The pair didn't move back to their original positions, they sat there, more awkward silence blanketed over them.

Somebody burst through the doors, causing their heads to snap towards the noise. "Jesus. Who died?" Isaiah joked as he came in, referencing the un-lively nature of the room. He sat down on the couch next to Finn and Ivy. It was a fairly small sofa which meant that Ivy was sandwiched in between the boys. "You're name's Ivy right, kitten?" Isaiah asked the girl in a strong Birmingham accent. "Yeah." She simply responded, slightly taken back by the nickname. Ivy's heart thundered against her chest, surely this couldn't end well.

They talked for a couple hours. They laughed and joked. By this point the boys had brought in a spare bottle of whiskey from the kitchen. They were swiftly making their way through it whereas Ivy took light sips, not wanting to get too drunk in front of people that she'd just met. The boys didn't care about that fact though and alcohol worked its way through them; intoxicating them more and more with every gulp. They no longer had a filter on what they were saying. Ivy had learnt that Isaiah was a bit of a lady's man. Well, he liked girls, he liked them a lot. "Wait, so you're saying that even if you loved the girl, you still wouldn't let her take control?" Ivy quizzed the preacher's son. "Yeah, I'm not sexist, kitten, don't worry. It's just the thought of having a girl so in love with you, that you're irresistible to her; the thought that she would do absolutely anything to please you."

"You guys are fucking weird." Finn downed his drink in one. His jawline became more prominent when he threw his head back. They sat in silence for a while; it was warm and comfortable. They were still sat on the couch with their heads thrown back. The boys both had their legs wide open and a glass of whiskey in hand meaning Ivy was very squished in the middle of them. "Ivy?" Finn started, "Yes, Finn?" His head turned to face the girl, she could feel his hot breath on her face. "Don't suppose you can sing, can ya? I love a girl that can sing." She laughed at his comment, "I can actually, I think. I used to sing all the time when I cleaned the bakery for my dad." Isaiah joined in on the conversation, "Give us a little sing-song." He encouraged. "Fine," She complied and stood up, "But don't complain if it's shit." The boys hadn't moved from their previous positions but they looked so tempting from this angle, the alcohol was clearly getting to her. 'Seriously, you need to drink something to satiate your thirst.' She scolded herself once again and reached for Finn's glass first. She necked his drink then she stole Isaiah's. They both looked at each other, eyebrows raised. It was a song Ivy had heard Ezekiel's wife sing before, it was a beautiful song. She just hoped she could do it justice. Ivy used her feet as a beat and began to sing.

"Like a river, like a river Shut your mouth and run me like a river, How do we fall in love? Harder than a bullet could hit you, How do we fall apart? Faster than a hairpin trigger,"

Ivy put as much emotion as she could possibly muster into singing. She thought of all the pain her parents had put her through over the years, all the tragedy and petty feuds between them. The song lasted a couple of minutes and when she was finished the boys sat there in silence. Ivy hung her head in embarrassment, of course it sounded terrible. "That was really bad, wasn't it?" She asked them. "Fuck no, Ivy. That was... well it was incredible." Finn stood up and gave Ivy a hug as a single tear slipped from her eye. "Thank you." It had been a long couple days and the girl just wanted to sleep. Isaiah hugged her when she sat back down on the sofa.

The next few hours passed quickly as all three teens had passed out from the whiskey. But their slumber was cut short when someone had come bursting into the room. Arthur had woken them up by shouting incoherent words. "Arthur, slow down." Isaiah tried to calm down the eldest Shelby brother. His hands rested on Arthur's shoulders and quick breaths left his mouth. After a couple more breaths, he forced out what he was just shouting about.

"Tommy's been taken to hospital."

iii. HOSPITALITY

MASTERLIST

[alltheangstmygifttoyou]

Jester’s Trials Part One

A/N: Hello and welcome to my soulmate au for my novel! The way that this soulmate au works is that anything that gets written on your skin (doesn’t matter with what or by who) shows up on your soulmates skin. The majority of this story will take place when the characters are in their mid teens but for this first part it takes place in Jester’s childhood. Also, a big difference between this story and the prequel is that the entire thing will take place in Jester’s perspective. And all of the previous triggering topics will be there along with many more, so be sure to keep an eye on the tags and let me know if I need to tag something else. I hope you enjoy!

Summery: Jester and Jesse’s childhood and how they deal with their soulmates.

Word Count: 1404

TW: Child abuse, homophobia, class discrimination

No one was sure when it had started, perhaps since humans had evolved into themselves, but somehow people were connected, soulmates. With this connection anything written on your skin would appear on your soulmates. Everyone with a soulmate was supposed to be happiest with them, most people believed it would be by being in love with your soulmate, although there were some who preferred to stay platonic. There were some who had more than one soulmate and some with none. Jester understood all of this, not only because Father had explained it to her, but they had also gone over it in school. Mother had some very strong opinions on soulmates, which soulmates were wrong and how disgusting some people were for their connections, but Jester didn’t understand why she had those, so she didn’t agree. Of course she didn’t argue with Mother, that would earn her a punishment for sure, but there were times she wanted to.

Jester was taught to read and write at an early age, she began writing on her skin by the age of three. Her soulmate had not been as advanced but drew her pictures in response. Jester hadn’t minded, she thought they were cute, and she noticed her brother Jesse was having a much harder time learning than she was. So when he came to her when they were four because he was having a hard time reading what his soulmate was writing to him she wasn’t surprised. However when she read that his soulmate's name was Malcolm her stomach dropped. Mother hated same sex soulmates. She considered them disgusting if they were romantic and fake if they were platonic. Jester read Jesse’s soulmates message to him and helped him write back, but before he left she encouraged him to keep his soulmates messages secret. But they were little and it only took a week before Jesse told Mother all about Malcolm. Mother scrubbed his arm raw that night and forbade him from writing back.

Over time Jester learned that her soulmate’s name was Noah, a poor boy who lived cities away. Father didn’t approve of him, but told her that she could focus on him when she was older and in charge of the company. Being married to your soulmate makes you seem more relatable. Father also hoped that Noah would pull himself out of poverty when he got older. Jester didn’t argue, but enjoyed writing to Noah at night. He was nice to her, and didn’t think she was weird, he also continued to leave her little doodles. He even agreed to only write to her at night, since she didn’t want to upset Jesse by having obvious writing all over her. Jesse didn’t write to Malcolm, but Malcolm wrote to him all the time. Some days when Jesse took off his long sleeves to get into his pajamas he had writing circling all down his arms. Mother would always become furious if she saw, sometimes dragging Jesse to the bathroom to scrub his arm bloody only to fail to get it off, other times she slapped Jesse and yelled at him to cover up his shame. These were the times Jester wanted to argue the most.

One day, during the weekend when Mother and Father were having a night out Jester decided to stay in Jesse’s room for the night. It was bigger, had more toys, stuffed animals, and blankets for them to share. They were seven years old, Jesse always wore long sleeves. Jester tried to convince him to talk to Malcolm, Mother would never know. She felt like she was stabbed in the chest when Jesse snapped that he “wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t make himself more disgusting than he already was.” Jester didn’t bring it up with him again that night, but instead waited for him to fall asleep. Once he did she pulled up his sleeves and got out her favorite purple marker that she wrote to Noah with.

“Malcolm?” She had a very different handwriting from her brother, it was much curlier, more script like.

“Jesse, is that you? You haven’t written in years!” Malcolm wrote back, his handwriting was loose and sloppy. He seemed to struggle writing in a straight line.

“No, I’m Jesse’s twin Jester. Jesse’s asleep right now. But I need to talk to you.” She wrote back, trying to keep everything small. It took Malcolm a full minute to write back.

“Okay.” Jesse shifted a bit in his sleep but didn’t wake up. Jester waited for him to settle and moved further down his arm to write.

“Our Mother hates that Jesse’s soulmate is a boy. She hits him for it whenever she sees that you’ve written. That’s why he hasn’t written to you in years. Please stop writing to him, at least until we are out of Basic school. Mother can’t hurt him when he’s not home.” Jester bit her lip as she waited for a response. She wanted Jesse to stop getting hurt, but she didn’t want him to lose his soulmate either. She was sure Malcolm would make Jesse happy given the chance!

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to get him hurt! But since you’re writing back won’t your mom see and hit him again?” She felt bad for Malcolm, she would feel awful if she found out her conversations with Noah were hurting him.

“I’m going to wash this off after we finish talking, I’d like to ask that you do the same.” Jester’s marker was skin washable specific, made for people writing to their soulmate. Father had given a new one to her every year for her birthday.

“Okay, are you going to tell Jesse about this?” Jester shifted off her knees trying to decide whether to lie or not.

“No, our Mother has gotten into his head. I’m going to try and fix that but I don’t think he’ll listen. I’m sorry.” She waited for an hour for Malcolm to respond, but he didn’t. She took a wet paper towel and washed off her brothers arm taking off all the ink she put. She told Noah what she had done, and he told her she was just trying to keep her brother safe. If she cried herself to sleep curled around a black bunny stuffie under a thick green comforter no one in the morning knew. In fact, in the morning there was no writing on Jesse at all, and after a week he started wearing short sleeves again.

Jester didn’t really have a religion, she didn’t believe that a big man created everything, or that there was anything like Gods around. Neither did her Father, although her Mother would sometimes pray. Out of respect for others Jester tried to not curse using their Lord's name. This habit was encouraged when she accidentally mumbled “Jesus Christ” by her Mother and she was slapped for her trouble. However, she sometimes believed in the concept of karma, just because she seemed to get the back end of it a lot. Even though she had been trying to help Jesse, and he seemed happier, only a month after talking to Malcolm Jester woke up to a long message on her thigh.

“Jester, I’ve done something really bad. I don’t think that it’s safe for us to write anymore. Please don’t respond to this either, I won’t answer. I’m sorry.” Jester didn’t write back, she didn’t want to put Noah in danger, but her mind was lost the entire day. She wanted to know what happened, they had been talking earlier and everything had been just fine. The only thing she could think of was that his mean babysitter had done something. She knew his mother was sick, maybe that had something to do with it. Yet, no matter how often she turned it around in her mind she never could come to a definite answer. It stung when she told her Father what happened and he told her that it was for the best. She didn’t dare complain to Mother, who made it clear that she didn’t want Jester to speak to her unless spoken to, and she didn’t want to upset Jesse by bringing up soulmates. With Noah gone it became very clear that Jesse was her only other friend. None of the kids at school liked her much. She couldn’t talk about it with anyone, but soon was used to that.

[krystalkoya]

Ad Hoc | 04

Summary: Landing your dream job as an advertising exec at Kim Entertainment straight out of college was nothing like you imagined. Mostly due to the fact that your college rival, Jung Hoseok, sits ten feet away from you and never misses an opportunity to make your life a living hell. When a position opens up at the firm to be chief of advertising, you jump at the opportunity, but not without having to go up against Hoseok who is also vying for the position. In a dirty game of deception and betrayal, the last thing you expect to come out of it is love.

…

pairing: coworker!hoseok x reader

genre: enemies to lovers, future angst, smut, humour

rating: nc17

word count: 10k

chapter warnings: none!

…

Chapter Summary:  You cut Hoseok off for a reason. What happens when you run into an old friend that tells you more about the past than you thought you needed to know?

Series Masterpost

…

________

Jesus, Hoseok was going to have a killer hangover in the morning if he didn't slow down.

Not one to waste alcohol, he threw back the last shot in his hand and wiped the liquid that hadn't made it into his mouth off his chin. Now that he was sufficiently buzzed enough to enjoy this party, he’d allow himself to cool off before he accepted any more drinks tonight.

 He had to have been here for about half an hour by now but he still hasn't had the chance to speak to Wonho yet. Their mutual head nod of acknowledgement when he’d first arrived didn’t count.

Hoseok swiveled his head around the room, looking for any signs of the host in the sea of people here tonight. Wonho really wasn’t kidding when he said any and everyone was invited. Well, the man did keep to his word, he’ll give him that. A few months back he said he’d throw a celebratory party if he managed to pass that damn macroeconomics class. Hoseok was grateful he didn’t have to hear about how ‘the professor had it out for him’ anymore.  Hoseok glanced around the crowded room in search of Wonho and luckily, he didn’t have to search long when he spotted the man chatting with a group of guys outside. The fresh air would be a welcome escape from the muggy humidity of the living room. But as he was making his way through the crowd of wasted college students, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Hoseok! Where have you been? I haven't seen you all night!"

It was Taehyung. One of Hoseok's good friends for ages now. They met back in high school, Taehyung had been someone who knew him both before and after his little self-destructing episode. A loyal guy, no friend, who’d been there for both his highs and his lows. Being a couple years older than him, Hoseok had always felt like he should set a good example for the younger man, especially after he finally came his senses. But really, Hoseok new he needn't worry. Sure, Tae was a typical college kid, he liked to have fun just like him but he was nowhere near as bad as Hoseok was in his rebellious teen years. Hoseok would never allow him to.

"Taehyung I see you everyday. Isn't that enough for you?"

"I didn't see you at all today though. Had a final, remember? I haven't been home since my 8 am this morning. Come here, man. It's good to see you again." Taehyung engulfs Hoseok in a drunkenly awkward hug, sloshing whatever was in his plastic red cup on Hoseok's sleeve and the floor. Hoseok grimaces because now he was going to reek of cheap beer for the rest of the night.

"Taehyung, we're roommates, we see each other all the time."

Taehyung nuzzles in deeper, ignoring Hoseok completely. "Where's ___?"

"Not here. She’s studying."

Taehyung pulls back. Thank god because Hoseok felt like he was going to suffocate in that grip of his. Had he been working out lately? Why the hell was he so strong?

Taehyung shoots him a sympathetic look but Hoseok brushes him off.

"Put the sympathy-eyes away Tae. It's not that serious." he says bitterly.

 Taehyung drops his hands exasperatedly and whines, "When are you just going to tell her already? In all the time I've known you I swear you've never acted like this much of a pussy bef-"

 Hoseok slaps a hand over his companion's mouth. He was not going to have this conversation with Taehyung, halfway drunk off cheap liquor, in the middle of a college party. Or ever, if he could avoid it.

 "Annnd I'm gonna stop you right there. We've been over this, remember? It might take you a while in your state but it'll come to you. We’ll talk later, okay? I’m gonna go catch up with Wonho." Hoseok starts in the direction of the sliding glass door that leads out to the patio but someone stops him yet again.

It's not Taehyung this time.

"Hoseok! I didn’t know you were here!."

It's Jiyeon. She looks good. Boy does she look good. Long hair cascading around her face, makeup done up just right to highlight all her best features. She was hot, and totally the type Hoseok would consider going for if he wasn't so hung up on… someone else.

"Oh, hey Jiyeon."

Taehyung grumbles in the background, which draws Hoseok to the fact that he was still here.

"Well that’s comforting. I’m not the only one Hoseok’s been avoiding tonight, there’re others."

Hoseok doesn't even begin to acknowledge that passive-aggressive comment in favor of addressing the girl before him.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were here. I would've said hi sooner."

"Well, now that you are, you have to dance with me at least once tonight? Please? I've been bored out of my mind- everyone else is no fun."

Hoseok scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. He didn't really have any pressing concerns to attend to at the moment. He assumed catching up with Wonho could wait. So with a decision in mind (a poor one, he’d come to find out) he said,

 "Sure, why not?"

…

Hoseok was sweaty and hot but he was genuinely enjoying himself. He chatted with Jiyeon and Taehyung for a while, which gave him ample time to get a few more drinks in his system. But once Jiyeon's patience wore thin, she got antsy, pulling him out to the makeshift dance floor of the fraternity's living room.

Which is why he was currently pressed up between the hot sweaty bodies of several twenty-something year olds as he danced with Jiyeon to the loud music blaring overhead from Wonho's top of the line sound system.

He was going to need that patio break soon, he realized as the third song was coming to an end. He could literally feel the trail of sweat sliding down his spine at this point.

But just as he was about to mention to Jiyeon that maybe they should take a break, she was leaning in closer to ask him something herself.

"It's getting kinda crowded. Maybe we should cool off a bit, talk someplace a little more private."

Hoseok stilled at her words, unsure how to respond. He wasn't an idiot. He knew when girls said they wanted to 'talk in private' it was code for hookup. And like he said earlier, he would've totally been up for it about 6 months ago, but now...?

Hoseok opened his mouth to try and let her down the easy, but Jiyeon was already turning away from him, taking his hand and dragging him off somewhere in her wake.

Before he knew it he was being pulled inside an empty bedroom. Jiyeon plopped herself on the edge of the bed, staring at him expectantly.

She patted the space beside her and smiled up at him, "Come sit."

Hoseok stood there reluctantly, feet glued to the ground for a few moments because how the hell did you tell a girl that you didn't want her? Jesus, it already sounded shitty in his head, just imagine if he'd said that out loud. And the douchebag award of the year goes to... the idiot who rejects a hot girl (who clearly wants him) all because he can't tell his best friend he likes her. How pathetic.

Despite himself, Hoseok sits himself at the edge of the bed, leaving a good amount of space between the two of them. He figured it was best to deliver this news sitting down, jesus the alcohol was really clouding his judgement tonight cause that plan all goes to shit when Jiyeon takes this opportunity to pounce on him.

Hoseok is forced onto his back with the weight of Jiyeon’s body. She wasted no time as she clambered into his lap and eagerly attached her mouth to his.

Hoseok was shocked by her boldness for the first two seconds, eyes wide open and body frozen in place with the force of Jiyeon's enthusiasm, but he quickly snapped out of it. He pulled away, placing his hands on her arms to pull her off of him.

 She pulls back, her expression flooded with questions.

 "Hoseok, what's wrong?"

 He grimaced because this was the moment of truth. Hopefully she would understand.

"Jiyeon, I don't think we should do this. You're drunk and..."

 "I'm not drunk!" She says in protest.

 "Okay, not drunk. But under-the-influence nonetheless. Either way, we should stop-"

"Is this because of someone else?"

Hoseok paused because boy was she spot on. How did she know?

"Yes. No. It doesn't matter. Look, how about we go back out and enjoy the party. Listen, they’re finally playing some better songs, we can-“

"It is, isn't it?" she asks dejectedly.

And something about her tone makes him think he shouldn't evade the question a second time. It wouldn’t be right.

So with a sigh he nods, staring at the floor because he can’t meet her eyes. "Yes."

There’s silence as she tries to process his words and she’s still perched on his lap but Hoseok is the perfect gentleman. After all, he knows from experience how hard it can be to have unrequited feelings.

But then Jiyeon is speaking again, although tentatively. "I mean, we can just fool around a little bit. I don't mind if you don’t..."  She reaches out to stroke his cheek tenderly.

Hoseok reels back from her touch, but cringes yet again when he realizes how rude that may have come across.

Nevertheless, Jiyeon gets the message, her arm freezing in place as her jaw drops open in shock at the sign of true rejection.

"Jiyeon- I, I promise, it's nothing against you. You're great, really! It's just… me." He says defeatedly.

Jiyeon hums in response, her posture more reserved and drawn into herself than before.

Hoseok puts distance between them again, and this time Jiyeon separates herself from him as well, climbing off his lap to sit at the opposite side of the bed.

Hoseok, not knowing what else to do, shoots her a tight smile as he says,

"I-I’m gonna go back out there. Come find me later?"

Jiyeon nods in his direction, her eyes trained to the floor.

"Yeah, um… sure. I’ll be out in a minute."

There’s silence in the room again as Hoseok stares at Jiyeon’s expression which is currently trained on the floor. After a few more moments of this, Hoseok figures it’s time for him to go, not wanting to upset her any longer. He rises from the bed and shuts the door behind him, shooting her one last sympathetic look before he goes.

…

Jiyeon’s P.O.V

Jiyeon heard the click of the door shut when Hoseok left, yet she remained rooted to her spot at the edge of the bed.

Jiyeon knew exactly what was keeping Hoseok from hooking up with her. Or rather who was. She didn’t think they were together but who knows, they could’ve been. That would explain why she and him were always together all the time. But no, she remembers hearing from others, in addition to the source itself, that they were just friends. Had always been and will always be just friends. Bullshit, anyone could see the way Hoseok’s eyes lit up whenever her name was merely mentioned. He was a goner and any and everyone knew it except for the girl in question.

Either way, Jiyeon was hurt. She could have any man she wanted except for him. She was sure she had him tonight but she was wrong yet again. ___ was obviously still a factor, and nothing she did could change that.

As she sat there at the end of the bed, her hands picking at a stray thread on her blouse absentmindedly she realized she was hurt yes, but she was also angry. Angry that she couldn’t have him. Angry that he was smitten with someone else who probably didn’t even care enough to bat an eyelash at his feelings.

So when a phone that wasn’t hers buzzed on the bed beside her, Jiyeon found herself doing something that she wouldn’t do under normal circumstances.

She picked it up to see that a message had come in. And speak of the devil, it was from ___. Which meant that this must’ve been Hoseok’s phone.

It must have fallen out of his hoodie at some point during their oh-so-brief tumble in the sheets (if you could call it that).

Jiyeon felt inclined to pry, curious as to what Hoseok and you talked about at this hour of the night.

You: Hey, spilled coffee all over my laptop and now it won't come on. Mind telling me the hw for ad class? [11:35]

As Jiyeon read the message she was almost overcome with a sudden sense of boredom because obviously nothing interesting was going to come out of this conversation. She was almost compelled to go find Hoseok and return his phone to him so he could respond to you. Again, almost is the keyword here.

Instead, Jiyeon’s initial boredom was twisted into something much more sinister, because although she was hurt, she was also angry. And when she was angry, she was far more inclined to seek revenge. Her siblings had never appreciated this quality about her growing up. Always said she was far too petty for her own good.

And so she found herself replying to ___’s message, feeding her wrong information under the guise of being her trusted friend, ‘Hoseok’.

It takes her a mere couple minutes to come up with something believable. Thankfully, she took this course last semester, otherwise she’d have no proper basis for her lie. The truth was, the final assignment for Smith’s class was always an essay, and you were truly toeing the line if you expected to start this late and get a good grade on it. Decent at best, but only if you really knew you’re stuff. But Jiyeon destroyed any hope of that happening when she lied.

You: A skit? [11:42]

You repeated her words, Hoseok’s words as far as you knew, as if asking for confirmation.

Jiyeon surprised herself with how good she was at this, coming up with details on the spot that sounded legitimate enough to be true.

Hoseok: Yeah, like an ad. Can be on anything really. Just incorporate some of the terms and techniques we learned throughout the semester and it should be fine [11:43]

You: Ok, thanks, you're a lifesaver. Are we presenting in class? [11:45]

Sure, why not? Hoseok: Yup [11:45]

You: Alright, thanks again, really. [11:46]

You: Don't stay out too late. you could barely function in class last time that happened [11:47]

Jiyeon is just about to type out one last reply when a sudden knock on the door makes her jump out of her seat. The door swings open just as Hoseok’s phone clatters to the floor.

“Everything alright in here? Hoseok didn’t shoot one off and leave you high and dry, did he?”

Taehyung shoots Jiyeon a quizzical look when Hoseok’s phone clatters to the floor a few feet ahead of him.

“Hey, you okay? Why do you have Hoseok’s phone?”

Internally, Jiyeon is panicking, her heart racing at the prospect of being caught. Not only did she snoop through someone else’s phone, she’s also pretty sure she costs someone else their grade in class.

Externally, Jiyeon does her best to keep her cool. She rises from the bed and picks the phone up off the floor. Instead of standing up immediately, she remains hovered over it on the floor, feigning inspecting the phone for damage when really she attempts to delete the message thread between you and ‘Hoseok’.

It is only when any traces of the conversation are deleted that she rises from the ground.

“Nothing, nothing. Hoseok left his phone in here though. Could you do me a favor and give it back to him?”

Taehyung looks from her to her outstretched hand skeptically for a moment but then he drops it, taking the phone from her hand acceptingly.

Jiyeon mentally sighs out in relief, thankful that Taehyung did not feel the need to push the issue any further. She bids him goodnight, saying she’s tired and going to turn in early for the night.

Taehyung bids her goodnight, saying he’ll tell Hoseok she left already.

Jiyeon’s lips quirk up at the corners, thinking that after tonight, Hoseok might just be hers after all. /tonight wasn’t so bad after all/at least one good thing came out of coming here tonight.

.

.

.

This past week at work has been... weird. You were starting to think Hoseok’s favorite pastime was purposefully seeking you out to try out his new ‘insult of the day’ but he’s gone out of his way to avoid these last few days. Perfectly fine by you because it means you can finally get some work done without any interruptions.

Hoseok’s absence was a welcome presence in your life. It seems like the man, who’s made it is life’s mission to make your work life a living hell, has done a complete one-eighty.

Now, when you pass him in the halls on your way back to your desk, he looks straight ahead, averting his eyes to avoid looking at you head on.

When you stumble upon him in the breakroom, he regards you with complete silence, busying himself with reheating his lunch in the communal microwave instead.

So, strange considering that this is Hoseok we’re talking about, but not unwanted. You guess he took your advice. This is exactly what you wanted right?- a peaceful work environment, no drama, minimal arguments? Right?

You shake your heard as if to snap yourself out of some stupor. Of course, this is exactly what you’ve wanted ever since Hoseok started here.

You should’ve known not to be foolish enough to believe that this sudden change in behavior would go unnoticed by other prying eyes and ears in the office. You were even more of a fool to believe this one-eighty wouldn’t alert gossip-king himself.

“ Hey, I know I told you I'd lay off a little, but I've gotta know. What's up with him? He lobs his head in the direction of Hoseok's cubicle in place of saying his name.  

“He’s been quiet all day. You two didn't even have your routine quarrel in the breakroom this morning.”

 You shrug. “Don’t know, don't care. Let’s just enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts, shall we?”

Jimin shrugs, glancing behind him where Hoseok is busy typing away at his desk.

“I don’t know. Whatever happened, it looks pretty serious.” You pause for a moment, but resist the urge to glance over at the eerily quiet man. Thankfully, before you are pulled any deeper into analyzing what happened the last time you talked to him, Jimin decides to drop the subject.

“Sorry I shouldn’t have asked. I’m too curious for my own good sometimes. But you’re right though, the quiet is nice for a change.”

You’re lips quirk up at the corners and you spin around in your chair to face your companion fully. “Glad you agree. Now, let me run something by you for my project. I have this idea but I’m not sure how to execute it…” ===================================================

Hmm, milk chocolate with hazelnuts or dark chocolate coffee crunch? Ah, one of you favorite pastimes, choosing which assortment of chocolates you should take home as your guilty pleasure snack this week. Truthfully, you should be avoiding sweets like the plague unless you wanted to start looking like the version of yourself from ages 14-18 again, hills and valleys all over your face and all. But when aunt flo came to visit it was sure convenient to have those chocolates around when those cravings hit. And they always hit. Even after aunt flo had long since took her leave.  

Mind made up you reached for the raspberry delights instead, deeming that the fact that it had fruit in it made it slightly healthier. The slight resistance confuses you until you realize another hand is tugging on the same bar of chocolate as yours is. Despite there being plenty of other bars for you to grab, you were most definitely there first and your head shoots up to let the person know that they best grab another one when realize that you know this person.  

“Taehyung?” your eyes crease at the corners, brows furrowed in recollection as if it will help you decipher if this man is someone you know or not. It’d be extremely embarrassing if this man didn’t happen to be who you think it is. You’d have to file this memory in the place in your brain that randomly comes back to haunt you at the most innocuous of times. But he definitely is, you’d remember a face like that anywhere.

Though the more you look at him, the more you can see how he’s grown. His face has filled out a little more since you’ve last seen him, jawline much sharper and more defined. You got a glimpse of his resting face before his own broke out into recognition at the sight of you and, well let’s just say it’s alarmingly intimidating. You most definitely would have let go of the chocolate and let him have it despite how bold you were 10 seconds ago.

“___? Is that really you?” A smile breaks out onto his face like he can’t believe it’s you.

“In the flesh.” Before you can even get the words out he’s pulling you into a strong hug, limbs fully encasing your own in a deathtrap you wouldn’t be able to escape even if you tried.

“I haven’t seen you in forever! How’ve you been?”

What is going on? Is there a college reunion happening that you don’t know about because you have been running into way too many people from the past lately. First Jiyeon and now Taehyung? Who’s next? You really hope it isn’t your roommate freshman year. She always hated you.

“Doing great! I’m over at Jin’s dad’s company now and it’s the best company I’ve worked for so far. How about you?”

Taehyung’s eyes light up as if remembering something. “Oh, that’s right. Hoseok did tell me you worked there now. That’s funny.” He shakes his head in thought. You don’t know why you’re surprised to hear Hoseok’s name come out of his mouth. Taehyung had always been his best friend throughout college and even before that, you think. They went way back. You had always been cordial with Taehyung, even after your fallout, but it’s clear where his loyalty lies. So no, it’s not surprising that he and Hoseok still talk, though it is surprising to hear that they’ve talked about you with each other. But, of course, why wouldn’t Hoseok take the opportunity to bitch about his worst enemy to his best friend. It’s what you do, so can you really blame him?

Nevertheless, you ask him what he finds so amusing.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s just the fact that you and Hoseok were always so close back then, and now when you two are actually given a chance to work with each other, you hate each other’s guts.”

When you think about it like that he’s actually right. How ironic.

Your lips tilt up at the corners in agreement with him. “I guess it is kind of funny. But the universe is weird like that. Things never sync up when you want them to.”

Tae nods his head solemnly in response to your comment, the jovial air inspired by your reunion with an old friend being quickly clouded by the somber note bad memories usually bring.

In an effort to steer the conversation in a positive direction, you try to lighten up the mood.

“But I swear, the universe must be trying to tell me something. I’ve been running into all sorts of people from college, first Jiyeon, now you…Is there a reunion coming up that I don’t know about?”

“You ran into Jiyeon?!” He chuckles. “Last time I saw her, she was still chasing Hoseok.”

You shoot him a look and that tells him all he needs to know.

He looks at you incredulous, mouth ajar. “Still?! Geez, poor girl. She’s got to learn when to quit.”

You join in laughing lightly along with him, because that’s exactly what you said just some days ago.

Tae clears his throat but the small smile that appeared on his face remained as he says, “You know, there was one night where I thought she was this close to actually bagging him.”

You ears perk up at that. If you were a cartoon character, you’re pretty sure your 2D animated ears would be extending out of the side of your head to hear him better at the prospect of juicy gossip. Look at you, Jimin was rubbing off on you after all.

Interest peaked, you can’t help but ask him what happened.

“Well, nothing surprisingly. It was that night at Wonho’s party and I saw the two of them go into a room together so I thought, you know…” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, thrusting a finger in and out of the ring he made with his thumb and forefinger of the other hand.

You make sure he clearly sees the look of disgust you’re directing at him before waving your hand in a gesture to move this along.

“But, yeah. Nothing happened. Hoseok told me they never hooked up or anything. He was kind of…” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, averting his gaze “…kinda smitten with someone else at the time.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Damn, I never knew.”

Tae nods in understanding, “Mhm. I kind of feel bad for her in a way. Unrequited love is tough.

Tell me about it. You will that part of your brain to shut up because this was not the time to reminisce on old feelings (that may or may not have even been there in the first place).

Despite your internal torment, Tae continues blabbering on, “And when I went to check on her she was all alone in the room. She looked really frazzled, like she was in a rush.” He scratches his head as if trying to figure something out in his head. It’s been so long he must be struggling to remember clearly. “I mean, who wouldn’t be all squirrely after they just got rejected? I’d be. Shit, when I was hung up on that hot senior sophomore year I was a mess when she rejected me. And for Todd of all people? What did she even see in him? The guy had a plaid shirt for everyday of the week-“

“Tae, my ice cream is melting.”

“Right, anyways, where was I? Oh she asked me if I could return Hoseok’s phone and then she left. Poor girl, couldn’t even hand it to him herself, she must’ve been so embarrassed. But no hookup. I’d thought she moved on after all these year but clearly that’s not the case.”

“Wow,” you say. That’s all you can say. You didn’t know all of that went down back then. Hoseok for sure would have told you something as eventful as that, despite how many times you told him you didn’t want to hear about his hookups, or lack thereof. He must’ve finally taken the hint.

Come to think of it, you also hadn't known Hoseok had a crush at the time. He never mentioned anything about pursuing anyone besides the occasional hookup.  You would’ve known, cause like you said Hoseok told you everything. You physically could not put a filter on his mouth no matter how hard you tried. But apparently he knew how to keep some things quiet. You wonder who it was. Must have been serious if he didn't tell you right away. A pang resonates in your chest. You make a mental note to see the doctor about this heartburn you’ve been having lately.  

“Yeah, sad I know. But that’s on her if she wants to put herself through more heartache after what happened all those years ago. But enough about the past. How’s the job going? I heard about that new position that opened up.” He pauses a beat. “And Jin, how’s he? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Something about his hesitance makes a your lips quirk up at the corners. “It’s… it’s going.” You pause and add, “But if Hoseok asks tell him I’m halfway through with my project and nothing he could even dream up is better than what I came up with. And Jin’s good too. A pain in my ass, but what’s new? He’s in culinary school now, and I’m so glad he made the switch. I was getting tired of his bitching and whining.” Tae’s brows quirk up in surprise. “And his dad’s… okay with that…?”

“Absolutely not.” You reply. “Well, he hasn’t told him yet but I’m pretty sure when he does he’s not going to be too happy about it.”

“Oh. Well I’m happy for him either way. I know he’s never wanted to end up taking over for his dad. He always complained about it even back then.”

 You fall into a comfortable conversation with your old friend as you finish picking up the last few items on your grocery list. You had only stopped by to pick up a couple of things, but once you bumped into Tae, you ended up spending far too much time in there than intended.

Taehyung was Hoseok’s friend, sure, but he had always been nice to you, even now. He was a good conversationalist and a great friend so when the time came for you to part ways and he made you promise to keep in touch, you agreed with little to no resistance.

When you leave the supermarket for home you expect no more surprises that night. It was stupid of you not to, with the people you keep company because when you finally push the stubborn door of your apartment open (you should really ask your landlord if you can change the locks) you see that all the lights in the kitchen are on and Seokjin is standing in the kitchen hovered over the stove.

His back is to you so he can’t see you staring at him in confusion? Anger? You’re not sure at this point.

“The fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

He tosses a head over his shoulder only to turn back to whatever he’s stirring in the pot.

“Oh hey. How was work?”

“Hey. The fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

He stirs the pot a few more times before he turns down the heat and pops a lid on it. Wiping his hands on the kitchen towel, he turns to you.

“Hi Jin, how are you, thank you so much for cooking me dinner tonight.” The high-pitched voice he uses to imitate you sounds nothing like you, you’d like to add.

You drop your bags at your feet, shrugging off your coat to hang in the hallway.

Once you face him again you’re brows shoot up in disbelief.

“Trying out a new recipe again?”

A shrug of his shoulders as he turns his back to you again. “You barely have any of the necessary essentials in your apartment to make a decent meal but you’ve got a gas stove and a convection oven. It’s a shame they don’t get much use unless I’m here. I brought some things over, I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

You peer over at the concoction of stuff he’s got simmering on low heat in that pan of his and you scoff.

“That’s because everytime I do stock up you just end up using up half the ingredients in my fridge every time you cook! Warn me next time, I was at the grocery store today, I could have picked up more than just coffee beans.”

 “Shush woman, you’re getting dinner out of this, I’d be grateful. And did you pick up the flavored kind? The classic one you like tastes like shit.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------

 “How’s my risotto? You should try the risotto. Is it good?”

You swallow around a mouthful of food you already had in your mouth and say, “I tried it Jin, it’s as good as always.”

“Just good?”

Noting the apprehension in his voice, you decide to ease his worries. “It’s wonderful. Absolutely delicious. The best risotto I’ve ever had.”

He points his fork at you, expression turned serious, “You’re pushing it. I’m good, but not that good.”

“I ran into Taehyung today.”

He chokes a little, and you look at him in confusion. “Taehyung? The same Taehyung from college?”

You nod.

“Is there a reunion happening or something? What’s with you running into everyone all of a sudden?”

“Right? That’s what I said. But no, no reunion. Just a coincidence.”

“What’d he say?”

“Nothing. We caught up a little. I told him about my run-in with Jiyeon the other night. He seemed to be just as amused as I was when he realized she was still pursuing that man after all these years.”

There’s a comfortable silence after that, the two of you just enjoying your meals, but then you perk up, remembering something else.

“Did you know she already made a move on him once and he rejected her?”

Seokjin gasps and you get an eyeful of brown mush that was once a perfectly sliced cube of pork. “No, really?”

“Yeah. Tae told me all about it.” You fill him in on all the details you heard at the market not too long ago.

“He turned her down apparently. Something about having a liking someone else instead.” You see the look in his eyes at that and shut him down immediately.

“Don’t you dare say it. I swear to god not a word. If you do I can’t assure you that you won’t lose a limb tonight.”

The ever present look of mischief in his eyes tells you he’s not derailed by your threats. So you change tactics.

“Alright. I wasn’t going to say anything, but how about we talk about your not-so-subtle crush on Taehyung. I see that’s still very much alive and well.”

Bingo. His face falls immediately at that, not expecting you to be so clever.

However, he pulls himself together impressively quickly. Seokjin, face calm as ever, even when he realizes you’ve backed him into a corner, replies coolly. “Please, if you really think I have a crush on a child like him, you must really be insane.” He focuses on cutting another piece of meat instead of the piercing stare you are pinning him with from across the table.

“He’s only three years younger than you! And he likes you. He always has. You know he asked about you right?”

“He did?” A brief hopeful look in his eyes flashes across his face but it’s gone all too quickly. No matter, that one unconscious act was enough evidence to prove your point.

“Puppy love is what it is. It’s hard not to fall in love with me at first sight but he’ll grow out of it. I’m sure.”

“You need to stop denying yourself the right to be happy. I’m serious. It took you this long to realize what you really wanted to do and it’s not taking over your father’s company. I won’t let you deny yourself the right to a healthy relationship too.”

There’s silence for several moments as you allow your words to sink in. Jin takes his time, chewing, swallowing before he opens his mouth to reply.

But of course, he chooses to deflect instead.

“I could say the same for you.”

You sigh, resigning yourself to eating the meal Seokjin so graciously prepared for you this evening.

The atmosphere is quiet, which to you means the conversation is over, the only chatter coming from the television anchor relaying the news in the background.

Just as you think the conversation is over, Seokjin surprises you again when he says,

“There’s one thing I don’t understand though.”

“What’s that?”

“Why was Jiyeon on Hoseok’s phone? Especially when he wasn’t there…”

You shrug, not really thinking much of it. “I don’t know, maybe he gave it to her to use.”

Jin shoots you a look. “___, no college guy just lets a girl use his phone without him being there.”

You stare at him for a moment, not fully understanding his meaning but knowing it isn’t a pleasant one. Your lip curls in disgust. “Eww… do I even want to know?”

Seokjin shakes his head rapidly, implying there are much greater issues to attend to. “That’s besides the point, but no. Listen, you said this was at a party right? Was it that party that happened just a day before the ‘incident’?”

“Don’t call it that.” You frown at his choice of words but now that you think about it… yeah. Hoseok was at Wonho’s end-of-year bash that fateful night before class.

“Ok, sure what if it was?  I don’t see what this has to do wi-“

“And didn’t you say Hoseok texted you to tell you your assignment that night?”

You nod slowly now, not seeing his point. Or rather, refusing to acknowledge it. “Okay and? Can you hurry up and get to the point, cause you’re still not making any sense.”

“The point is, at some point during the night Jiyeon had Hoseok’s phone. And she was alone. Unsupervised…”

Jin looks at you expectantly, brows lowered when it as he waits for it to click.

Your jaw drops in disbelief.

“You don’t think…?” But Jin is already nodding along, because yes, he does think.

You shake your head in disbelief. “No. It can’t be. I mean, Jiyeon wasn't necessarily 'nice' but she wasn't that much of a bitch. I mean why would she-“

He pins you with a look, effectively shutting you up.

“___ think about it. What better way to screw over the girl her crush had a crush on than to do something that would cause said people to never speak to each other again?”

So many thoughts going through your mind right now. If what Seokjin is implying is true then… you can’t even think of the implications of that thought right now.

“Wait, wait, wait. So you're saying that Jiyeon messaged me from Hoseok's phone, created a whole entire fake assignment, just to cause Hoseok and I to have a falling out just because she was jealous?”

Seokjin drops his knife and fork to his plate, leans back in his chair to cross his arms over his chest as he responds with a firm. “Yes, that’s exactly what I'm saying. I never trusted that girl.”

You consider for a moment before you shut him down again.

"But that doesn't even make sense because Hoseok-"

“Didn't have a crush on you. Yeah, we get it. But consider, just for a moment, if he did and that Jiyeon knew about it. I mean, this story makes perfect sense! And if Jiyeon is still pursuing this guy after all these years I think it's fair to say she's serious about him. Serious enough to sabotage a good friendship and to tarnish your GPA.”

Before you even have a chance to reply Seokjin is already beating you to it, bulldozing over whatever excuse you had come up with to dispute this time.

“I mean, if we’re being honest here, it’s a farfetched plan. If Jiyeon really did do it girlie really put it all on the line, assuming that she would a) never get caught and b) you guys would become the literal definition of sworn enemies.”

“You didn't even give Hoseok a chance to explain himself all those years ago. It's like you were waiting for him to fuck up and once he did, or it 'looked' like he did, that was it. You know how many times that man tried to use me to get through to you? But like a good friend, I told him to fuck off, because you were so insistent on not speaking to him again, ever. You need to stop pushing away the good guys ___. Now if Hoseok did do this, he’s trash and me and Jimin will beat his ass for what he did to you. But speak to him, if only for the closure.”

He lets that sink in for a minute and the silence helps you to organize your wildly rampant thoughts. Deep, deep down you did have the slightest inkling that Hoseok could have been innocent in all this. After all, you told him time and time again how important it was for you to keep up your grades. Your scholarship was riding on the fact that you had a high GPA. You didn’t have the pleasure of being able to go to college without it. You were blessed with a lovely set of parents who did want to see you pursuing a higher education but simply didn’t have the money to do so. They tried not to show it but secretly they were relieved when they’d found out you received a full ride. But after taking too many hits to your GPA the previous semester you were in danger of falling too low. Your last hope was scoring high marks in your ad class to keep you afloat. Hoseok knew this, could even relate to it as you spent many heartfelt nights talking to him about your fears of disappointing your parents and most importantly, yourself. Could someone who you’ve confided in be so malicious as to sabotage you like that? Now you weren’t so sure.

In an effort to hide your inner turmoil partly because you weren’t ready to accept that Jin had a point but mostly because you weren’t ready to open up a whole new bag of emotions you say, “Yeah, well, look who’s talking.”

He sighs recognizing that you are shutting down emotionally. Picking his silverware up again, he replies “Yeah, well. Take it from me. Don’t fuck this up. More than you already have. Talk to him. I know you like to deny it but I can tell you miss him.”

After Seokjin's long spiel you really had nothing else to say. It was a lot to take in. For one, he completely uprooted your entire beliefs for the last five years with his elaborate theories.  But eventually he had to leave, saying he had laundry and other neglected chores to attend to. You suspect he would have stayed over longer had your conversation not went down the path it did. He must think he’s doing you a favor by letting you stew in all that transpired while he was here.

He wasn’t. You were perfectly content with locking those memories up in a file in your brain and never opening them again. At least you thought you were. You didn't want what he was saying to make any sense but it did. Any sane person would think you’d be ecstatic to find out Hoseok was innocent after all. But all you could think about was how you threw away a good friendship over something Hoseok didn’t even do. If this was true, it would throw your whole world on its axis. You would be the person in the wrong this time. In your eyes, Hoseok was guilty before he even had a chance to prove his innocence. Whatever the case, you wouldn't rest until you found out the truth. And that started with speaking to the source itself.

 The next morning you stalked into the office determined to find the answers to all the questions Seokjin had planted in your mind the night before. You were doing that a lot lately. Stalking in on a mission. Boss behavior or signs of a stressed out, emotionally overworked colleague? You preferred to think it was the former.

You headed straight for the break room because it was 9:30 and Hoseok always made his morning cup of coffee around this time. Like clockwork, there he was, stirring the same serving of two sugars and two creamers into his mug as he’s done every day since he’s been here.

You stopped beside him.

"I need to talk to you."

He keeps his eyes trained on the red stirrer swirling in his mug when he replies,

“You need to talk to me, I don’t want to talk to you. I see a potential issue here.”

"Hey, I’m being serious.” You place a hand on his bicep to turn him towards you. “Did you have your phone with you that night at Wonho's party? The night before the last day of class?"

"What are you talking about? How am I supposed to remem-"

"Hoseok," you huff out at him. You needed answers and you weren't going to get them if he kept being difficult. "I really need you to think about this, okay? That night you went out, was there any point in time where you didn't have your phone on you?"


Hoseok's expression changes, probably shocked by the seriousness in your tone as you ask him to try to remember a miniscule detail on a night years ago when his mind was fuddled with the influence of alcohol.

But he can clearly remember one detail.

"No, I misplaced it at one point during the night. Taehyung found it and returned it to me the next morning."

Shock courses through your veins at his confession. Because Seokjin's far-fetched theory wasn't so far-fetched anymore.

You nod slowly. "Okay." You clear your throat, a hand on his elbow to guide him. "Okay, come with me."

.

.

.

You pulled Hoseok into an empty conference room, glad Minho likes to spend majority of his mornings cooped up in his office working so you two can talk.

 This time, you give Hoseok the floor, finally allowing him to tell you his side of the story, something you should have let him do way back when.

 "So you're saying you never saw my texts to you that night? After you got to the party? The ones where I asked you what Smith's assignment was?"

"Not even one." Hoseok replies instantly.

You clench your teeth cause dammit, Seokjin was right.

“What’s this all about anyway?”

You snap out of your haze and turn your attention back to Hoseok. He deserves to be filled in on all of this, especially after all you’ve put him through.

“Listen, it could be nothing, probably is nothing, but Seokjin had this theory that, well Jiyeon found your phone and apparently she was using it that night. Taehyung found her snooping around on it before she gave it to him. And you never saw my texts so..." you trail off, conveniently omitting the part of Jin's theory that implied Jiyeon did this because the girl Hoseok had a crush on was you.

If you could take a guess, you would imagine Hoseok’s face is a mirror image of the one you were sporting when Jin first relayed this not-so preposterous idea to you.

He shakes his head as if trying to make sense of it all. “So what you're insinuating is that Jiyeon texted you from my phone and lied just so that you would fail?”


You nod hesitantly.

Unsurprisingly, his excuses are much like yours as well. But you need him to be absolutely sure that there was not even a sliver of a chance that Jiyeon could have done this. Assuming he wasn’t lying to you, this was the only plausible explanation you had at the moment.

“Come on ___, sure Jiyeon had her flaws but she wouldn’t do something like that. I mean, I thought you two were friends."


You snort. "Hoseok, you were the one who was friends with everybody not me. Jiyeon and I were closer to acquaintances but like, only when you were around."

He receives this as if it is new information to him, and it most definitely is considering Hoseok’s track record of being oblivious. Exhibit A was not knowing about the current suspect’s attraction to him for so long. For god’s sake the girl was practically vibrating with energy every time she stepped near him in college. It was truly a spectacle to behold.

“Hoseok I really need you to think. Do you think for any reason that Jiyeon would've done this? Out of spite maybe? Revenge?”

He laughs incredulously at what you are implying. This was ludicrous. “Revenge, why would she need to get revenge-“

All of a sudden he stops talking, a thought springing to his mind. After Jiyeon came onto him that night he did his best to let her down easy. He remembers telling her he had feelings for someone else. Was there someway Jiyeon had connected the dots and discovered that this 'someone' was you? If so, he's starting to think this crazy theory of yours is closer to reality than he initially thought.

He must be taking too long to respond because your rambling again.

“Otherwise, how else could this have happened? You said you didn't see my texts and as far as we know, no one else had your phone besides Taehyung. You think he did this?”

“God no, Taehyung would never do something like that. He’s pulled his fair share of pranks, but this is going too far. It’s just,” he scratches the back of his neck, “…that's a lot to accuse someone of.”

 You nod in understanding, lips pressed together in a thin line. “I know. This is why I'm trying to gather all the facts, before I accuse another innocent person. I already did it to you and I'm so soo sorry. I didn't even give you a chance to explain yourself.”

He smiles sheepishly, his attention not directed at you but at the ground as he says, “Not gonna lie, it hurt a little. A lot actually. You were one of my closest friends and then… poof you weren't.  And when I tried to get through to you I was met with either the silent treatment or petty insults. I started hating you simply because you hated me.”

Gosh you are an idiot. What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t stand the thought that you caused him pain simply because you were too afraid to get hurt yourself. You should have known something like this was not Hoseok’s doing. It just wasn’t in his nature. But all you can do now is apologize and hopefully, he’ll give you the chance to make up for lost time.

“I really am sorry. Can I make it up to you somehow? I'll do anything.”

Hoseok quirks a brow which prompts you to rephrase. “Anything…within reason.” You pin him with a narrowed stare.  

Hoseok laughs and your reminded of how much you miss hearing that laugh, bouncy and airy and full of joy.

“Relax, just lay off on the insults maybe? And, start being my friend again? I missed you.”

Your surprised by how much hearing those words come out of his mouth affected you but you do your best to keep your expression neutral.

“I-I can do that.” You choke out.

“Great.” A smile spreads across his face, transforming his lips into a heart-shape      you also missed seeing regularly. He leans in to encompass you in a hug and you freeze at first, unused to the contact but after a few moments pass you melt into the embrace, enjoying the scent of clean linen and sandalwood that radiates off of him. Your pleased to see that he still smells the same as you remember,

The two of you pull back, facing each other again.

“I’m surprised you forgave me so quickly after the way I treated you.”

“Yeah well, I’m just glad this was all due to a misunderstanding and not because of anything that I actually did. For the first few months I was racking my brain trying to figure out how I offended you.”

You chuckle sheepishly, “God, I am an idiot. I know this probably won’t make up for how I treated you but like I said, I’m really really sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He brushes you off. “You have plenty of time to make it up to me. The important thing is we’re friends again. I hope nothing changes when I get that promotion though, I’d hate to see a good thing come to an end so quickly.”

“Yah! Tell yourself that cause I’m the only one getting a promotion around here.”

“Righhht, uh huh. So how do we go about figuring out what happened? I feel like this is a witch hunt and since I’m no longer on trial I’m game to see where this goes.”

“First off you never even had a trial. In my naïve eyes you were guilty, case closed. And secondly I’m not sure I even want to dredge this all up again. Whatever happened, happened. It was so long ago and I ended getting to keep my scholarship in the long run. What’s the sense in starting unnecessary drama?”

Hoseok nods, understanding perfectly. “I get that but don’t you want to figure out who did it? I mean all accounts point to Jiyeon.” “Well if it was, then her plan backfired. I ended up barely passing and still got to keep my scholarship in the long run so…” You shrug pointedly.

Hoseok doesn’t comment on the fact that he doesn’t think that was Jiyeon’s goal in all of this (if it was in fact her, which common, he’s pretty sure it was at this point).

Needless to say, the two of you decide to drop the topic for the day, content to spend it trying to amend for lost time. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that…

As days continue to pass, the more you and Hoseok work on building your relationship back up, little by little. You won’t lie, it is a bit of an adjustment at first. These last few years you have physically trained yourself to automatically scowl at Hoseok every time you pass him in the halls on the way back to your desk. He’s even become accustomed to arguing every point you bring up during staff meetings, just for the heck of it. You now have to unlearn these habits, and curb those feelings of blind rage that has been coursing through your veins for so long. But it’s relieving, the daily menace you have come to dread at work is slowly transforming back into one of your good friends again, albeit slowly. Things have been going so well in fact, that the whole office starts to notice this change in behavior. It has been no secret around the office that you and Hoseok have had a strong distaste for each other so when your coworkers find you smiling and dare they say, laughing with Hoseok on your breaks it is quite shocking, to say the least.

The pair of you are so shocking that a small crowd has developed outside of the conference room you have chosen for today, the translucent glass making it visible when you let out a good-humored laugh, arm hanging off Hoseok’s shoulder as you double over in mirth.

“Are you… are you guys seeing this?” Jihyo doesn’t take his eyes off the two of you as he asks his question.

“You’re seeing it too? I thought I was the only one.” Comes Jungkook, sounding relieved to find out he hasn’t been hallucinating for the past five minutes.

“Oh yeah, we’re definitely all seeing this, I just… I can’t believe it. Just a few days ago ____ was threatening to claw Hoseok’s eyes out with a plastic spoon for not consulting with her first before he chose the font size for an ad. The font size.” He stresses.

“I never thought I’d see the day but we’ve finally surpassed the Dark Ages. It’s been a long dark road but it’s a brand new day and- oh shit, scram, they’re looking.”

Jungkook mutters before bolting along with Jihyo. Jimin’s a bit too slow to react, too caught up in looking at the way Hoseok retrieves an eyelash from your face and holds his finger out in front of you to make a wish. What alternate reality is this??

But all too soon Hoseok is looking up and when he spots the three stooges peaking through the glass he’s alerting you to their presence too. But when you turn around all you see is Jimin who can do nothing else but awkwardly wave back at the pair of you. You narrow your eyes at him. He shivers, that look doesn’t look good. He takes that as his cue to leave.

In the conference room…

“Guess the whole office is curious as to why we’re so buddy buddy all of a sudden.” You say.

“Oh, is that why half the office has been staring at us like we’re the damn circus this whole week? Are we that entertaining? Good to know.” Hoseok jokes back.

“Apparently. I should at least tell Jimin though. I know he’s dying to find out why the sudden change.”

Hoseok shuffles the papers on his desk, arranging them into a neat pile as he says, “Oh I could tell. Poor guy looks like his head was gonna explode if he doesn’t know what’s up by at least tomorrow. Get back to me once you finish the text, placement and sizing yeah?”

“Yeah, no problem. Alright I’ll see ya.”

You separate as you leave the conference room, Hoseok headed for his desk and you headed straight for Jimin’s cubicle.

When you arrive you’re 100% sure he feels your presence hovering over him but he does his best to pretend like he doesn’t see you, head straight and typing away at his computer.

“Jim-“

“Yes, I was spying okay! But Jungkook and Jihyo were there too, they just got away faster. In my defense, I tried to mind my business, I really did. But you’ve gotta give me something. I’ve been pinching myself trying to figure out if I was dreaming this entire week. Look!” He points at a spot on his forearm, red from how frequently he’s picked at the flesh between his two fingers.

“Jesus Jimin, no you’re not dreaming. Hoseok and I… we made up.”

It looks like his eyes are going to pop out of his head with how far they are bulging out of his head.

“Made up - what? Since when?! Explain, now.” He demands and you let out an exasperated sigh at his antics.

“Long, long story. I’ll fill you in on all the details tonight. But trust me when I say that we’re cool. I was wrong, turns out Hoseok isn’t as big of a dick as I thought.”

“What’s this about me having a big dick?” Speak of the devil, Hoseok pops head around the side of Jimin’s cubicle. He seems to have a knack for popping up unexpectedly.  

“Not what I said in the slightest.” You turn to him, “Did you need something?”

He shakes his head, “No, just forgot to ask you if we’re still on for lunch today?”

The expression on Jimin’s face lets you know that he is still very much getting used to this new dynamic between Hoseok and you.

“Oh yeah, for sure. Jimin you’re welcome to join if you want to but I’m afraid it won’t be much fun. We still have plenty of work to do.” Hoseok’s brows furrow at that, “Um, I don’t know what she’s on about but I’m going to eat, nothing else. I work my ass off at this company and deserve at least one hour to fuck around on my own time.”

Rolling your eyes you push past your coworkers, dare you say friends.

“I’m taking my lunch at 1. Hoseok, don’t be late or I’m leaving without you. I’ll catch you later Jimin!”

Jimin watches as Hoseok hurriedly speeds up to catch up to you on your trot back to your desk. He’s slightly offended that you blew him off to have lunch with Hoseok but a smile tugs at the corner of his lips nonetheless. Looks like he’d be making a phone call to Seokjin today. And who knows? Maybe this was his chance to finally get the cute guy from graphic design to agree to have lunch with him.

[fanficsandfluff]

Emotions Get the Better (1)

My first Arthur Fleck x reader installation. There should be more to follow. But who knows. I’m all over the place. Enjoy!

~~~~

You were always a very emotional person. All around over-emotional on any layer of the spectrum of emotions. You’d feel a pit in your stomach and a lump in your throat when you’d see a particularly beautiful ballet performance while at work. If you found something even minorly funny, but it touched you in a certain way, you’d cackle. If you got genuinely angry at something, you’d shout until your throat hurt; and if you were angry enough, you’d start to cry. Full circle of tears. 

Hormones, your mom would blame it on when you were growing up. You did have some hormonal imbalances but you’d been taking pills for that most of your life. Fucking pills. If you could, you’d never take a single pill the rest of your life; but then you think about it too hard and you think you’ll drop dead after one day without meds. So you keep picking up your prescriptions. 

Anyway, as of late there’d been new and strange occurrences on your commute to work. You worked at the biggest theater in Gotham as an usher. They held bands, cultural shows, and dance performances, and they were planning on a Gala screening of Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times in the upcoming month. You were excited for that and kept basically begging your boss to give you a shift for that event. But during your walk from the train station to the theater, swerving through bustling crowds that seem to always intentionally bump into each other, you’d noticed a green tuft of bouncing hair on the other side of the street where you’d normally cross. A clown was dancing, advertising an “Everything Must Go” sale. He seemed happy enough to be doing what he was doing. And you had to stare at him for a little longer than you probably should have. Clowns always gave you the creeps, even if some people genuinely though they were funny. So that day, you waited until the next block to cross the street. 

And you realized this guy had a decent gig because he’d be in the same spot on that street every day for the next week. You’ve seen him so much you were surprised that by now he hadn’t turned to look at you and beep his red nose at you. Well, you supposed you’d recognize him more than he would recognize one person out of hundreds that pass him every day. But seeing him every day heading to work somehow gave you something to think about during the more boring shifts. Do people see his sign and act and visit the store that’s closing? Is everyone just as perturbed by his clown makeup, hair, and shoes as you so they just ignore him? Do the drapes match the carpet? 

You snorted at that last one out loud as you washed your hands in the bathroom sink and splashed water over your tired face after a 7 hour shift, on your feet, with nothing but one 15 minute break to serve as your rest. 

You could hear the train rattling on the track above you, so you started sprinting towards the staircase that led up to the platform. And just in time, you sped into the closing doors, your shoulder getting hit with the brunt of the automatic door, which forced open upon your entry. You stood inside the train car and let out an audible, “Whew....” and caught your breath as you stumbled to an empty seat and plopped down on it. Thank god you made it. You would’ve had to wait another 45 minutes for the next one. The train began to rumble forward.

As your breath slowed and your heartbeat returned to normal, you took in your surroundings of this late-night subway car. You shifted your eyes to the left and your jaw almost dropped. Clown guy seemed to be looking at you with a faint smile on his painted face, but quickly turned his head away when you made eye contact with him. 

You grinned to yourself and looked down at the empty coffee cup rolling backwards and forwards in the seat across from you. The clown must’ve had a long day to be coming home at this hour of night. And he still was in full garb, wig and all. You didn’t want to be rude, but you finally had the chance to get a good look at him, not just from across the street. You looked at his big clown shoes and had to stifle a genuine laugh. The whole getup on this shitty Gotham train at like midnight was somehow the funniest thing you’d seen in a while. You wanted to snap a picture if you could. The man seemed to be in his own world now that he wasn’t staring at you. 

The train pulled into the next stop and a bunch of rowdy teenagers got on and you already wanted to switch train cars. You had a long ways to go before your own stop. 

They were all busy yelling and laughing and pushing each other as the train lurched forward, until one of them tapped another on the shoulder and went, “Yo yo yo,” to get his attention. He caught sight of the clown. The boys mellowed out for the time being and all turned to look at the clown, who seemed oblivious he was even a target of theirs. 

Slowly, each of the boys started giggling to themselves, making jokes at the clown’s expense. 

“Yoho! That’s so fucking creepy, man--”

“What the fuck, are we in a horror movie, like--?”

And one of the more brave teens of the bunch stepped closer to the clown as the train rocked, “Hey, man, going to a birthday party?”

The clown’s eyes shifted up towards the teen and he looked away again, not wanting to get into this. 

The teen scoffed and kicked one of his oversized shoes, “You ain’t exactly the funniest clown I’ve seen. You wanna tell a joke? Change my mind?”

You were sitting, trying your hardest not to get involved in this scene. Rule one of being in Gotham was that you always minded your own business. Crazy guy screaming about the mayor and somehow also grilled cheese? You ignore him or get up and calmly move to another car when the train stops. You never make eye contact. 

But this poor guy was just minding his own damn business and these dumbass kids are bothering him just because he’s decked out in clown gear. This wasn’t right---

You were shaken out of your own thoughts and actually had to look up when you heard what had to be a laugh, but it came out as a cry, almost. The clown had thrown his hand over his mouth, but behind it he was stifling laughter. 

“You’re supposed to make us laugh, bozo! Not the other way around! Jesus!” and now the teen was laughing at the clown. 

You couldn’t look away now, as the whole posse was cackling along with the clown. But you knew something was off about the way the clown was laughing. You could see his hand going to hold his throat as a small choking sound made its way out of his mouth, and then the giggling resumed. 

“You’re a fucking freak!” one of the other teens yelled and they started to crowd around him, all taunting him. Some were even starting to shove him. 

You blessed the heavens since you knew this was one of the shorter stops on the train and you stood up from your seat and loudly yelled, “Hey!” over the sound of the group’s raucous. You just prayed these teens would respect a lady. You wanted to slap yourself just for that stupid thought. 

They turned to look at you and you almost clammed up before saying slowly, “Listen, can we just leave the guy be?”

“He started laughing at me! Don’t you think he’s a fucking creep, lady?”

“You know, maybe he wasn’t laughing at you. Maybe he just remembered a joke and started laughing at that. He is a clown, so he’s supposed to find things funny. You think you can just switch cars? Please, he wasn’t going to bother anyone.”

The train screeched to a halt and the teens all looked around at each other. It seemed your politeness took them for a loop because they weren’t used to having to deal with manners. You gave them one of your stern looks you saved for especially rude patrons at work. 

“Aight, I mean, I guess you want some alone time with your boyfriend. Have a good night, miss,” the teen who got up close to the clown said to you with a sneer to his voice and a glint in his eye. As the doors opened, the boys scurried out together. One of them tripped over the clown’s big shoe and the others continued to laugh at him. 

They were gone, into another car or hopefully back out on the streets so they could go home to their damn families. The train moved forward once more.

You looked down at the clown who you realized had stopped laughing and was now looking up at you with what you could probably describe as shock, but you didn’t want to be that generous towards yourself. You took a seat beside him, “Kids can be such assholes, right? Geez... are you okay?” you saw his wig was now crooked and long brown locks peeked out from under it.

“I’m fine,” he finally answered after a little too long of a pause, and added, “Thank you. That was very nice of you.”

“No problem. Just maybe in the future change out of your getup before coming on the train?” 

The man looked at you and his lips twitched upward in what could have been a smile if he didn’t let them fall back to the almost-frown he had on before. 

You looked at him a bit longer. He had such a meek voice. You never would’ve guessed he sounded like that just from seeing him dancing from across the busy Gotham street. But now that you were up close to him, you can see how delicate his frame was, how oversized all of his clothes really were on him, not just his shoes. 

“When do you get off?” you asked.

“N-Not for a while. Second to last stop.”

“Okay. Mine’s a bit before that, so I’ll just ride with you until then.”

The clown stared at you as if you were from another planet before he cleared his throat gently and slid the green wig off his head and put it away with care into a big duffel bag he carried with him. 

You got more comfortable in your seat and let out a yawn. The ride went smoothly for the next few stops, the clown not interacting with you at all. You could feel like he wanted to say something to you or turn and look at you, but all he did was sit and look down at his lap.

“I’m Arthur,” he finally said in a voice just above a whisper, and he looked at you.

You looked back at him and gave him a smile, sharing your first name with him, as well.

“I’ve seen you around, Arthur,” you finally brought up the topic you most wanted to address, “You’re in front of the shop that’s closing down. I pass by you on my way to work.”

“Oh, I--- Well, I’m sorry I haven’t noticed you before.”

“Not your fault, I mean, I walk on the other side of the street and you have no reason to literally notice me out of every person that passes by you each day. How’d you get the clown gig?”

Your eyes kept drifting down to his vest because looking at the clown makeup in such close proximity for too long was starting to skeeve you out. 

“It’s something I’ve always thought I’d be good at. I’m actually a comedian.”

“Oh,” you nodded and smiled, “I can see the connection.”

There was more silence and Arthur fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Your stop was finally here and you stood up, “Well, I’ll see you, Arthur. I’ll say hi more directly next time I go to work. Stay safe.”

“Th-Thank you again,” he said probably the most confidently he’d said anything during his interaction with you. 

You stepped off the train and gave him a small wave. Doing something like that for someone made you feel sooooo good. Wow, you need to be participating in more selfless deeds more often. You can see how people say helping less fortunate is rewarding. You made an audible sound like a scoff as you walked through the late night Gotham streets; who the fuck are you to be thinking shit like that? God, your mind was everywhere lately. Maybe you would try and walk on Arthur’s side of the street tomorrow. Maybe it’ll make him happy. Maybe it’ll make the both of you feel a little bit better. 

[sebs-anxiety-and-insanity]

Drake & Cal

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

Drake smiled looking over himself in the mirror. Baby blue shirt and black pants, his glasses had a small tint of black around the edges, complimenting his silver eyes. His green hair pushed to the side. He rocked on his feet a moment before picking up his bag, quickly heading down stairs. "Now, Dray, sit down and eat. And do take out the jewelry before your father gets here." Drake rolls his eyes grabbing a piece of toast. "Can't mom, I'll be late, and today I start my job so.... bye!" And with that Drake raced out the door. He sat at the bench and waited for the bus that would take him to his destination. He sighs pulling out his phone to scroll through tumblr.

A few minutes later the bus arrives, and Drake eagerly rushes in, scanning the seats before picking one beside his best friend. Their name was Bea, they had been best friends since they were kids, And knew everything about each other, so of course, they were the best choice. Bea still had their black hair, and dashing personality. "You ready?" Drake asked, Bea just now noticing his presence. "Whoa- Jesus- Don't do that!" Drake chuckles sliding his bag underneath his seat. "'Glowsticks- need I say more'?" Drake gestures to Bea's shirt. Bea looks up from their phone again. "Need I say more?" They slid their phone into their pocket. "So, what job do you think we'll get?" Drake smiles slightly bringing his right leg up to his chest. "I don't know, probably some fast food joint, it's what most teenagers get." They nod their head turning so that their back is against the window. "Yeah, probably.... but what if we get an exciting job? It's not unheard of!!" Drake rolls his eyes. "Your idea of exciting is the possibility of dying, but not dying. And while that's all good and all, I'd never hear the end of getting stuck with that kinda job." Bea punches his arm lightly. "It's not getting 'stuck' it's getting picked! You know the job picks you!!" Drake sighs. "You always did believe in that didn't you?" Bea leans forward, pointing in his general direction. "So did you," they leaned back laying their legs over Drake's. "And still do if I recall correctly." Drake drops his arms over Bea's legs, scoffing. "Yeah, don't remind me." A loud ding was heard throughout the bus, followed by the driver. "Its your driver, here, I advise you to get ready to exit the bus, uh, we are nearing our destination." Drake swatted at Bea's legs reaching down for his bag after they moved to get their own bag. "Well, I'm excited." Drake stands up setting his leg on the seat. "Yeah, well, I'm not." Bea rolls their eyes. "Alright grumpy pants, calm down." Drake scoffs as the bus comes to a halt. The doors slowly opened. "Alrighty, ladies, gents, and all you lovely people, we have reached our destination, please exit the bus, and watch your step!" Drake pushes off the chair and exits the bus, slowing his pace so Bea can catch up. In front of him was 'The Workplace Chooser', they couldn't choose a better name? It was huge. The glass windows reached the ceiling in the center of the building, the sides went on for a while, before they stopped and buses filled the next spots, getting ready to take the people to their new job. Bea nudged his shoulder, pulling their hair into a loose ponytail. "C'mon, slow poke." Drake picked up his pace, watching the fountains as they displayed the show of water. Bea ran up and held open the door, bowing when Drake got close enough. Drake walked into the building, taking in his surroundings. When you walk in there is a grand staircase, at either sides of the stairs there are purple plants. Many people were rushing by looking for their bus. Bea rolled their eyes dragging Drake up the stairs.

Drake groaned, not that anyone could hear his frustration, as the room was full to the brim with other teenagers. But he still let Bea drag him around. The room was divided into three sections, no apparent categories, and they all faced a big stage. Bea dragged him to the back row in the middle section. They both sat down watching the other teens closely. Soon enough the lights dimmed and the noise settled. A man in a suit walked up to the podium in the center of the stage. "Hello, future workers of good!!!! I know you are so excited for your jobs, correct?" Assorted cheers erupted through the crowds, and Drake slid further back into his chair. The man smiled, looking down seemingly at a peice of paper. "Alright, so this year we are going in groups of four, and we will start with the important jobs first." Drakes phone buzzed, sighing he sat up pulling out his phone. There was a new text. 'Has your brother been called yet?' Drake typed a quick 'no' before going back to listening to the speaker. "-t, and next is the helpers!!! We have just four of those in this year. Are you ready to see who these brave men, women, and people are?" More cheers erupted through the room, Bea being the loudest. Drake flinched, elbowing Bea lightly. "Alrighty! First up is, Seth Banks, Catlin Bea, Tiffany Grace," Bea nudged Drake grinning wickedly. "And Drake Brins! A round of applause for these great teens who have been chosen! Please find the bus outside your exit!"

Drake was shocked. So shocked he didn't notice being pulled out of the room. He snapped out of it shortly after being slapped a few times. A blonde girl was standing before him smiling sweetly, wearing a grey sweater, with shorts. "Hey there! You alright?" Drake looked around spotting Bea walking towards the group with their bags. Drake nodded and started to get up. The girl helped him to his feet. "I'm Tiffany, she/her pronouns!" Drake smiled. "Uh, Drake, he/him pronouns." Bea handed Drake his stuff before turning to the other person in the group, wearing a long sleeve shirt with jeans. Their hair was blood red. Bea looked at me before stepping closer to the individual. "That's Seth, he/him pronouns." Bea nodded, and Seth turned to us. "I'm fine, let's just go." It looked like Seth wiped his face before picking up his bags. "Okay, let's go!" Tiffany picked up her bag and walked with us. "So.... we are gonna be roommates?" Bea nodded excitedly. "Yeah! I know all about this job! Except you know the confidential things." Tiffany nodded, holding open the glass doors for us. I nodded, "Yeah, they were really hoping for this job." Bea nodded. "Ever since I knew it existed!!" We entered the bus and chose seats in the back. I pushed my bag under the seat as Seth sat down next to me, Bea and Tiffany a few rows up, on the other side of the bus. "Hey, Seth, how are you?" Seth chuckled a bit. "Like I said I'm fine, were you even listening?" I shrugged. "Yeah, but just making sure." Seth turned to me, scanning over my face before he gets closer to me. "You okay?" He asks laying his head on my shoulder. "Yeah, I guess." He scoffed dropping his bag on the floor. "Yeah, and I'm the queen of England!" "I just wasn't expecting this job, now, I've told you my problem, how about you?" He tensed as the bus started pulling out, and heading to their new work place. "Only if you want to of course," he nodded. "Yeah, thanks." He pulls out a pair of headphones and starts some music. "You wanna hear?" "Hm? Oh- yeah, sure." He hands out a ear bud, which I take and put in my ear, looking out the window as music played. "You have great taste in music." Seth nods crossing his arms. I lean on the window, watching the scenery. This is gonna be a long ride isn't it?

"Alrighty!! We have arrived at our destination!!! Congratulations, helpers!" Rolling my eyes I hand Seth back his earbud reaching for my bag. We all filed out of the bus as other buses did the same, the grand building standing in front of us, mainly secluded by miles and miles of  trees, and what seemed to be a beautiful mansion, a bit older for most peoples taste, but I loved it. The fountain in front of it was overgrown, and the fences looked like they had been placed way after the house was built. We walked up to the doors and waited. A different group stood beside me, there was a boy, angry looking, like he didnt wanna be here. I snapped my head back to the doors so he wouldnt know I was staring. All of the sudden he punched my shoulder lightly. "I'm Markus, what about you?" Clearing my throat I nervously turn towards Markus. "Uh Drake, I really hope no problems arise, it is our first day." The boy rolled his eyes, dropping his arm around my shoulders. "yeah, yeah, hey listen, we should stick together, I got your back you got mine. You look like the type to deal some damage when needed." I pushed him off me. "No, I dont know if I can trust you. And even so, you dont look like the type to keep to yourself for even a second." He scoffed. "Yeah, okay buddy. I bet." I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, I am the fifth precinct's leaders son. I'm no smart guy, but those clothes look like their fifth precinct. So watch yourself buddy." I scoff turning back to the doors as someone in a powdered suit walks out with a clipboard. "Hello helpers! Your ranks are posted in your quarters; Be wise my dear helpers, you have been chosen. Do not let us, or your precinct down. This is a great day for all of you." The lady looked at the clipboard for a moment before looking up. "Welcome to MCOU."

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

Hope you liked the first chapter/part!

Tag list (you can ask to be added or removed):

@irei-art

[stevenbasic]

“I’m so glad we have this date today…I really like having the chance to talk with you,” Melissa said, returning to the table with our coffees, a disarming smile and a powerful pair of swinging hips. “And now I’ve got you all to myself.”

“It’s, uh, not a d-...” I began, but heard my voice fade as I watched her big ass strain against her too-tight jeans as she moved to sit. Jesus, it’s huge. And she has absolutely no waist...

She giggled at my stammering as she sat, the chair taking her weight. It was our second official Friday Management Meeting, and I have to admit I was looking forward to it a little too much. Just the chance to sit and stare at this woman, have her undivided attention, bask in the her salient admiration while away from any others who knew us. Yes, I know it’s salacious and that I was a married man and believe me I was not proud of it. But christ that body in those jeans and that top. She’s an absolute Amazon, all curves, and I was feeling myself more and more fixated on her with each day that went by.

“So,” she started, eyes glittering over her coffee as she spoke, looking me up and down, “I guess you forgot it’s Casual Friday?” Her dark hair, soft and relaxed today, fell around her face fetchingly.

“Oh, uh…” I replied, suddenly conscious of my out-of-date tie and rumpled shirt. I put my cup down, ran my hands over the wrinkles of my khakis.  “I thought this was kinda casual..?”

Melissa giggled, satisfied. She and her friend Randi had established ‘Casual Fridays’ in the office last week. My silence had obviously been taken as a passive, spineless approval, and here I was in my own ‘casual’, complicit attire. “It’s okay, you look cute,” she added in an aside, indulging me with a smile, “like a little kid wearing his big-boy clothes.”

“Hey..!” I laughed, taking to my own coffee, watching her take a sip of hers and giggling at me. Truth be told, my old shirt was loose around the collar that morning, and my pants seemed too big. I had even had trouble getting the knot of my tie done, getting the right length.

So maybe I did look a little like a teen in oversized clothes, and Melissa hadn’t failed to notice. But, despite the teasing, there was something else on her mind that morning, for sure.

“So what’s up?” I asked, tabling for the moment the list of business items I wanted to get through, to make this an actual meeting, maybe.

“Well, it’s kinda silly, I guess, and I sorta feel silly asking but...are we, like, friends?” she asked.

“Oh...uh...” I stammered, caught off guard.

“Because I’ve been really feeling like we are getting to be friends,” she said,, “y’know, hanging out, going out together...talking. And I, like, hope I’m right? Am I? Are we...friends?” She was speaking a bit faster, belying her nerves.

This was weird, but it was bringing butterflies to my stomach. This girl - this young, buxom, drop-dead gorgeous girl - was nervously asking to be friends. She was hanging on my every word, and I didn’t know what to say.

If she saw my expression, she was having as hard a time reading it as I was expressing it. “I mean...if that’s okay?” she blurted, laughing, “Is that okay?? Is that, like, alright? To think? Since I, like...work for you? Can we be...friends?”

”oh, uh, I, uh…yeah, of course,” I finally answered, obviously flustered but doing my best to seem casual. I was nervous, she was nervous, and I didn’t want this to seem like a big deal. But...yikes… “Of course we can,” I said, my voice now more confident, “I’d be proud to be your friend.”

To that, Melissa visibly beamed, her smile growing, relieved, encouraged. Heartened.

I had tried not to stare as her chest swelled. “As long as you, uh, don't mind being friends with an old crank like me?” I asked.

“OMIGOD STOP!” she laughed, leaning in to slap my knee, “You’re so not old. Plus you're the smartest, nicest, best guy I know. And I need all the friends I can get.”

I laughed, and took a drink of my coffee, ignoring how fast my heart was racing. But what did she mean by that? That she ‘needed friends’. I mean, a girl like Melissa...she must be, uh, very popular.

“C’mon,” I countered, “You must have lots of friends, boy friends, I m-mean...friends who are guys” Ooof. I was digging a hole with my stammering. I saw her eyes giggling at me, and knew I should stop, but my mouth was ahead of my brain. “...a boyfriend?”   

She was kind enough not to laugh at me, and instead answered plainly and politely, “No it’s frustrating, the kind of guys I attract,” she said, breezing over my awkwardness and candidly explaining her situation, “Guys always try to...change me. Make me something different. So I’ve been on a break, a long break, so I can…” She took a sip of coffee, to choose the right words. “...concentrate on my career.“

”Oh,” I replied, feeling weirdly...weird. And feeling like there was more to the story...but it wasn’t my place to pry.

That’s when the air changed. A serious expression clouded her face as she drew and released a deep breath, cast her gaze down. At the same time I first became aware of her perfume, a cloud of which had slowly drifted across the table. Oh, wow...I drew in a deep breath of it. My eyes fluttered.

“Dr. J, I am so happy you consider me a friend, it means so much to me,” she began, steeling herself for something that was obviously difficult for her, “because I know the girls at work don’t really like me…” Her tone was uncharacteristically sober, and her frankness took me suddenly off-guard.

“Oh, don’t say that…” I answered, immediately seeking to solace the mood, possibly cutting her off. I knew I had to acknowledge her concerns, I couldn’t lie and tell her she was wrong, but I didn’t want her upset. “You’re...new. New to them. You’re...different. Different than Jeannette was.” She watched me, listening with wide, patient, slightly sad eyes from across the table. We both knew she was speaking the truth...but I also knew she was in fact understating it, that she didn’t fully understand how deep their petty antipathies were actually running, or that they despised me even more than they did her. But I had to try to make her feel better about it. “It’s maybe going to...take some time, time for them to warm up to you. But...you’ll see, keep try-”

“Dr J, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she said, stopping me with a hand, her left one, reaching out to grab mine. Her smile was wistful. “I'm actually used to it, I’ve had to deal with it, with women acting this way towards me before. It’s been this way ever since I grew...these.“

At that - hand still on mine - she drew her shoulders back, dramatically sticking her chest out. Her massive bosom swelled to fill the space between us and with a thin, resigned smile she patiently ignored me attempting to stay composed.

“Big, huh?” she quipped plainly, subtly squashing her breasts between her arms to further emphasize her mass and forcing me to finally look away. She sat back, removing her hand and allowing me a moment to recover.

“Y-y-yuh…” I tried, nodding, trying to appear understanding, “I can imagine it’s, uh…”

“Yeah, they’re a blessing and a curse,” she continued, candidly, “I’ve always wanted to succeed through my, like, brains. Through hard work and skills and, y’know - education.”

I continued nodding, agreeing, giving the appearance of understanding. Encouraging her to continue because there was no way I could say something insightful, in that moment. My tongue was paralyzed, my brain racing to pull itself from the quagmire of her bosomy display.

“But the boobs totally get in the way. Everyone always thinks my successes have been because of...this.” She waved her free right hand up and down, over her dramatic curves. “My body. How I look. How I dress. And sometimes - well, a lot of times - I think they were right. I was given things too easy, sometimes. Jobs, promotions, raises. This job is the first one that I really think will let me do what I want, show what I can accomplish through hard work and brains.”

Acutely aware of my guilt, of every horrible instinct and purile thought in my pathetic male body, I bit my tongue and stayed quiet. I was no better than anyone else who had given her these jobs, these promotions, these raises in the past; she certainly didn’t get this position of Office Manager in my practice on account of her resume, skills or experience. I was just as much of a boob-monkey heel as the rest of them...but she obviously didn’t know that, and I was not about to tell her. She thought better of me, which made it all the worse.

“So...help me!” she laughed, leaning in to shake my shoulder -  in jest, yes, but she was strong. Her tone had been slowly becoming more confident, more self-assured, and now it was her encouraging me; it was me who had become more reticent. “What do I do, Dr. J, with the staff? With the girls in the office?” She looked at me and, seeing I had no immediate answer, continued to speak. “It’s like there’s two parts of me: one that wants to try hard, to really make friends with them. And then there’s the other part…” 

Her perfume was so strong. Strong and captivating. I felt like it was enveloping me, blurring out the world around us. It was focusing me totally on her.

“The other part doesn’t want to make friends,” she continued,  “The other part wants to be strict, be the boss.” She played with her cup, toying with it in her hands, and then looked at me with new confidence. “So, it’s like there’s the nice part and...the strong part.”

I felt myself struggle to swallow. gulp.

“And the strong part, Dr. J, it’s...it’s been getting stronger.”

I’d known it soon after I first met her. There was something inside her, something growing, something blooming - and it was happening even as we spoke. I saw it in her eyes, and I saw that she felt it too. It was new to her, and it was thrilling.

It made my heart race, seeing her excited.

“Anyway, it’s sooo important to me that you’re supporting me,” she said, casually reaching her hand out to my knee. She watched as I looked down at it, and then up at her again. She smiled at me, and kept her hand where it was. “I know I’m new. I know you’ve known the other girls longer. I know it must be hard, putting all your trust in me...”

A new wave of her perfume, so intoxicating, kept me focused on her. Her hand was still on my leg, squeezing it firmly. Her glittering eyes were glued to mine, making my mouth dry, empty of words.

“So...Tell me. What do you want me to do?” she asked, sitting back, sitting straight, now having released my knee, “Try to make friends or…” As I watched, she straightened her shoulders, raised her powerful chest. She seemed to grow six inches, just sitting there.  “...do you want me to be the boss?”

My body shuddered, and before I could catch myself, I heard myself speak.

“I-I want you t-to...to be the b-boss.”

She smiled, thrilled, and it was at that moment that I realized it...I had a raging hard-on. I was telling her exactly what she wanted to hear, I was feeding into the blossoming confidence of this breathtaking but woefully unqualified woman, and it was so fucking hot.

“Ok, then...first,” she began, “I think I need to exert my authority.” As she spoke - she’d obviously settled her mind already - she took a moment to casually adjust her bra, tugging on the band on her left side through her thin pink shirt. “I need to show that I’m in charge...but I don’t want to be, like, mean. Stoop to their level. I want to show that I can be, like…” she sat up straighter still. “...the bigger person” 

I realized I was staring, and fumbled for words. I knew I should be offering guidance, but could only stammer as I watched her tuck her hair behind her ear. She was waiting patiently for my response.

“o-okay…” I managed.

“But still, they need to know that I am their boss,” she said, shifting in her seat, “I have to do something. Something to...show them.”

“h-how?” I asked, unable to fathom anything else but a question, “wh-what?” Were there even any other people in this coffee shop? Why was I being so sheepish?

“I don’t know yet,” she stated, a brief, grim seriousness in her voice that soon disappeared as she looked at me, shrugged, and giggled. Her breasts bounced, and I think my jaw had been hanging open.

”Anyway, thanks for listening to me,” she concluded, her mind newly set, “You’re always such a big help to me, and I totally appreciate you.”

“Oh, it’s n-no problem, I’m ha-happy t-“ Had I noticed that soft, fleshy bulge of hip, escaping her jeans before?

“And you know you can talk to me, too,” she said, reaching out for my hand again, now taking it in both of hers, “About anything, even stuff at home.” With that, she paused, and just held my hand.

I looked up into her eyes, which were glued on mine. She was obviously talking about my marriage, and my heart skipped. “O-okay, wow, thanks…” Was she looking for more, here? For me to open up about my problems with Sheryl? Her glittering eyes, her soft, thick hair, the magnetic caress of her perfume was making it hard, but I knew not to say any more.

“I’m serious, I can be there for you,” she said, immediately seeing my reticence...but being respectful of it. She leaned in, closer to me, squeezed my hand in support. “We’re a team now, you and me. You have to learn to confide in me. Got it?”

Her smile was so pretty.

“g-got it,” I nodded.

“Good boy,” she giggled, releasing my hand to take her coffee cup again. “I’’m so glad we’re friends now…” She took a playful sip of coffee before looking at me and declaring...

 “I really need a good man in my life.”