#so if there’s anything upsetting in there she would’ve laughed and tossed it aside

[fingertipsmp3]

Tbh it’s been so long since a book has made me feel completely and utterly insane. I need to read something that’s going to make me want to scream and peel my skin off

[collecting-stories]

She’s Kinda Hot - Sarah Cameron

Request: omg i really wish i could write but, can you do one with sarah and kind of like kie reader(rich but hang out with the pogues)where they are enemies and are stuck together for a project and the reader keeps annoying sarah to make her mad and the reader tells sarah she’s hot when she’s mad and then they end up getting together or something. sorry this is really long this is also my first time requesting so i’m kinda new lo

A/N: I really freaking love Sarah Cameron. That is all. Enjoy the fic. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Sarah was pretty sure that there was one of those personal rain clouds hanging directly over her head as she sat in math class with you. Who even assigned school projects in math class? Wasn’t that kind of thing reserved for english or science? But no, her math teacher...your math teacher...decided that a project to highlight Women in Math was a brilliant idea for Women’s History Month and, in an even greater stroke of genius, she stuck Sarah and you together as partners. It was all your fault really, that was all Sarah kept thinking as she stared across the classroom at the side of your head. That if you hadn’t walked into class late, in the middle of assignments, Sarah would’ve ended up with the next person alphabetically behind Cameron. Instead, she was stuck with you. 

“Why don’t we just split the assignment into parts and then put it together at the end?” Sarah suggested, after the bell rang and she managed to chase you down the hall of the kook academy to your locker.  

“Why not just work together?” You replied, shrugging a shoulder as if it shouldn’t be the worst thing that could ever happen to Sarah to be paired together for the project.

“I’d rather not.”

“Cause you broke up with me-”  

Sarah hushed you immediately, covering your mouth with her hand and looking back and forth down the crowded hallway. “You know what happened!”  

You pushed Sarah’s hand away and rolled your eyes, “well too bad princess, I need this grade so you’re gonna have to deal with seeing me.” You said, “everyday. After school.”  

“That’s bullshit,” Sarah snapped, following after you when you shut your locker and started down the hallway to your next class, “you do not need that fucking grade! You’re at like, the top of the class.”  

“Are you the teacher?” you asked, looking back at her. “Don’t worry Sarah, I promise I’ll stay six feet away and I won’t try to tempt you. Wouldn’t want anyone to find out you’re into girls.” You said, whispering the last part so only she could hear it.  

Sarah stopped in her tracks, watching you walk the rest of the way to your class. She wanted to scream after you, that wasn’t the reason. That wasn’t why she’d totally annexed you from her life. It wasn’t just that she knew this project was going to get her in deep shit, it was that she was one hundred percent positive that she would not be able to work with you without letting her feelings get the better of her.  

It wasn’t like the kook academy was a big place, there wasn’t exactly room to avoid you completely, but Sarah had done a pretty decent job so far. Even when the two of you crossed paths in class, and it happened more than Sarah would’ve preferred, she managed to keep herself away from you. At least until now, she was stuck with you as her partner for some ridiculous math project. She’d been banking on you wanting as little to do with her as she tried to have with you but instead you seemed totally fine. Unbothered by everything that went down between the two of you.  

She thought about asking Kiara what she would do but Sarah could already hear her best friend telling her that she wasn’t going to take sides. Kiara was friends with both of you and the most advice she would ever offer was “I don’t get what happened between you two anyway”.  

No, asking Kiara wouldn’t work. Sarah would have to resign herself to this project. She could this. It was just a three-week project. She could survive three weeks with you.  

“Hey, if I get lunch, what’d’ya want?” You asked, hanging your head off of Sarah’s bed and holding your phone out so you could tap through your doordash app.  

Sarah wanted to scream, it was still half-way through the first week and you had been to her house three times in as many days, spending your after-school hours driving her crazy. She was pretty sure that you were doing this on purpose.  

“It’s almost 5:30,” Sarah replied, not looking up from her laptop, “I think lunch is over.”

“Dinner then.” You said.  

“No. I don’t want dinner.” She snapped, “and I don’t want lunch or whatever else...I just want to finish this project.”

“We’ve got like, two weeks left Sarah,” you pointed out, rolling over onto your stomach and looking at her across the room, “just chill out.”  

You knew you were pushing Sarah’s buttons but you couldn’t help it. When things between the two of you had gone bad, when she’d told you that it was over and, worse than that, it was a mistake, you had been heartbroken. There wasn’t a better word for it. You hated how upset you’d been after Sarah broke it off with you but when things settled, you couldn’t deny that there was still something there. Little looks, fleeting in the hallway, moments you caught her staring and you knew she caught you too. It felt like boiling tension, the same way it had before, when you’d gotten together.  

“Chill out?” She huffed, “you’ve been at my house all week driving me fucking nuts and now you tell me to ‘chill out’. No, you need to help me with this fucking project!”  

You sat up on the bed, unable to contain the smile as you looked over at Sarah, “god, I totally forgot how insanely hot you are when you’re pissed off.”  

Sarah tossed her pencil across the room at you, “will you knock it off. You always pull this shit with me.”

“What shit?” You almost laughed, “you’re the one who told me that dating was an ‘accident’ and you were ‘confused about your feelings’. What am I doing, exactly, to pull shit with you? If anything, Sarah, you leading me on was pretty much exactly that.”  

“I wasn’t leading you on.” She groaned, flicking her hair over her shoulder the way she always did when she was pissed with something someone said to her. “What was I supposed to do anyway?” She said, voice dropping lower so no one would hear her. You might’ve been in her closed bedroom but if there was one thing you’d learned about Tanny Hill it was that someone was always listening. “Do you know what my family would do if they found out?”

“Found out that you were dating...basically a pogue? Or dating a girl?” You deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at her in question. You knew what the answer was. Sarah had been trying to live up to every expectation that Ward set for her from the moment she was born. She was always trying to make up for Rafe or Wheezie doing something to upset him by making sure she never did. And while other people dating whoever they wanted was totally fine with him, his favorite daughter, his pride and joy, dating a girl...maybe if it’d been Wheezie a few years down the line. But not Sarah, who was supposed to date a rich kook and go to UNC and marry the same rich kook and they could have a couple kids and buy a big house near his. He’d been planning it all out for her since before she was born and you had thrown a wrench in that plan.  

“It’s a delicate subject.”

“No,” you laughed and shook your head, “your dad’s a total homophobe. What’s he got against two super-hot girls dating each other?”

“When one of them is his daughter, I don’t think it’s at the top of his approved list.” She replied. “We should be working on this project anyway...I want a good grade and so do you.”

“Sarah-”

“No. Cause you’ll say something that you know I wanna hear and then you’ll do the stupid slow walk over to my chair and put your hands on the arm rests and I’ll be totally defenseless and then I’ll do something I totally regret...like kissing you.” Sarah said, “or letting you kiss me.”

“You’d totally regret it if we kissed?” You asked. “Positive?”

“Yes I’m positive.”

“We could test it out? Just to make sure?”

“No.”  

You shrugged, grabbing your math text off the bed and setting it on your lap again, “okay, I guess we should get back to work then.”

“What?” Sarah almost sounded shocked and really she shouldn’t have been. She should’ve known when the teacher put the two of you together for the project that this was exactly where she would end up at some point within the three weeks. Though really, she’d held out a lot longer than she ever thought she would be able to. “That’s it? You’re just going back to the project?”

“You said that’s what you wanted to do.”

She groaned and tugged at the roots of her hair for a second before looking at you, “you are the most frustrating, annoying, dense person in the entire world and I cannot believe that we-”

While she reamed you out, you had put your book aside and gotten up, going over to her and doing exactly what she said you would. You put your hands on the armrests of her desk chair and you leaned in and kissed her mid-sentence. “Is that what I was supposed to do?” You asked, pulling away just enough to see her face.  

Sarah wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you toward her and forcing you to stabilize yourself with a knee on the side of her leg, practically sitting on her lap. “Something like that.” She finally said, “though I would’ve appreciated a little warning.”

“Oh, sorry, you seemed stressed,” you replied, feigning innocence, “I just wanted to help you relax.”

“Is stressed the word?” She joked, tension melting as she brushed her nose against yours. She leaned forward so your foreheads were touching, her eyelashes just ghosting a touch on your cheeks when she closed her eyes for a split second.  

“Extremely hot? Sexy...a major turn on.” You joked, kissing her again. “God, imagine if you’d been paired with like...Topper for this? You’d be kissing him right now.”

“Stop trying to ruin the moment and kiss me.” Sarah laughed.

[hargrove-mayfields]

Back when things were still easy, Billy and Max used to have sibling days on the weekends when Neil wouldn’t be home, setting aside their issues to have just one day that was meant for doing something fun together.

The tradition had been dropped after the move to Hawkins, and Max thinks that’s where a lot of the strain on their relationship comes from. Without those designated times to let go of some of the tension building between them, they fall to pieces.

There’s one day in particular where it’s just Max at home all by herself, her mother and Neil having gone on a trip to the city she opted out of, when Billy shows up much earlier than he said he would be back, ruining the calm when he slammed the front door so hard a picture frame fell off the wall.

Neither of them say a word to the other, all she gets is an apologetic and glossy looking glance for the noise as he storms past her like she isn’t even there.

She doesn’t see Billy again for a long time after that, just hears the angry music blaring in his room. By now, she’s wisened up enough to know that meant he was probably crying in there, and though she doesn’t know what happened, she feels bad.

It’d been far too long since they acted anything like real siblings, not that they were actually related, but they used to be just as close, so after her brother’s been brooding for literal hours, she knows she wants to do something.

Her opportunity to bring it up comes when Billy makes his grand appearance at her door, stopping by to ask if she ate dinner just so he, quote ‘wouldn’t get any shit for it.’ She nods in agreement and asks, “Do you know what day it is, Billy?”

He shrugs, “28th of June.”

“Well, doy, but it’s also Friday.” Billy raises an eyebrow, missing the point, and Max rolls her eyes. “Friday. You know, like, the one day we get to hang out.”

Too cool for that stuff anymore apparently, he scoffs and leans against the doorframe, and she just knows he’s going to say something snarky, so she turns the puppy dog eyes up a notch, “Please? It’ll be fun.”

It works, Billy sighs way over dramatic and steps into her room, throwing himself down onto her beanbag chair. She can’t contain the smile on her face when he asks with fake defeat, “What did you want, shitbird?”

“I want a makeover day. Like we used to do.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Why?” She crosses her arms, “Just because that’s what I want to do?”

He fixes her with a look that says ‘seriously?’, and explains, an edge of frustration to his voice, “No, because you know what’ll happen if I’m struttin’ around in nail polish and shit when Neil gets back.”

“They’re not supposed to come back until like, Monday though,” in response to her excuses, he mimics her in crossing his arms over his chest, so she tries harder to reason with him, “And we can always just take it off when we’re done.”

“That’s just a waste of your stuff, then.”

“Come on, Billy, please?” she’s out of actual arguments and he’s winning, so she brings out the big guns, the little sister privilege, the one surefire way she knows will always knock her brother off guard, “I miss you.”

He squints at her, seeing through the attempted guilt trip, but he can’t muster a frown, and he must know it wasn’t all fake, because he says, “Whatever.”

She knows that’s his version of a yes and he’s just too proud to admit he caved, so she squeals and claps her hands together, taking off like a shot to dig under her bed for the stowed away beauty kit. It’s a little wicker basket filled to the brim with nail polish and makeup, the same one they’d used years ago before everything went wrong, and it makes her happy, bringing the old thing back out.

She stops to put a record in her player, choosing Queen as the closest thing to a middle ground between their respective music tastes, they at least both weren’t supposed to listen to it, and drops down into the other chair beside Billy.

On the latch-hook rug in front of them, she starts to empty the basket, lining up all her brightly colored bottles of nail polish, slightly dried out after months of not using them. “What color?”

“Why do I have to go first?” Billy asks. All Max has to say in response is a know-it-all “Because I said so.”

“Fine. You pick.” The moment he says it he looks like he regrets it, Max is notoriously bad at making decisions, but she ignores him and starts holding up bottles anyways.

First, after few minutes deliberation, she chooses a pretty dark green, and he scrunches his nose and doesn’t say anything. She picks a purplish color, which he tosses away on the bed, a very firm ‘no’ that makes Max giggle. Then she gives him a bright orange bottle, and he holds in front of his face, studying it before turning that one down too.

“God, if I knew you’d be so annoying I would’ve just painted them all the colors.” She remarks, lining up her polishes so she could do just that.

“That’s actually probably not a very good idea, kiddo.” Looking a little panicked, he digs through the bottles himself, settling on one he pulls away and stares at for a second before handing it to her and telling her, “Just do ‘em red.”

It confuses her, but she agrees regardless, and makes him turn in his seat so he’s facing her and his hands are flat on the floor. His hands are a little shaky, so her paint job isn’t the best, she even drips some on the carpet, which she hopes her mother won’t notice, but Billy doesn’t say anything about the mess.

With his nails done she moves onto his hair, she wants to do double braids like how he taught her to do in her own hair, so she shoves his arm to get him to turn around. “Scoot.”

He lets her push him around until he’s in the right place that she can reach his hair, but once he’s facing the far wall he tells her, “Don’t you dare use that brush on my hair, Maxine.”

“Jeez, relax. I’m not gonna mess up your princess curls.” She mocked, but she still went for the comb to run through his hair instead.

She waited until she could get it through without catching on any tangles before bothering trying to talk to him. When Billy was upset, he tended to clam up, but she didn’t particularly like feeling awkward in the silence, leaving all the talking to the record player. “Can we talk about why you were mad earlier?”

“Nope.”

“Would you tell me if I told you about my day?” She tries, but he shuts it down again with an “Unlikely.”

“I’ll tell you anyways.” Max didn’t know what had happened with Billy, but she knew she hadn’t had the greatest morning herself either. “I had to ask Lucas to bring me home early because me and Mike got in a fight.”

Billy snorted, and spoke with just as much sarcasm as Max had used on him. She learned that from him anyways. “You and Mike? No.”

“Yeah. He was being a total ass about El, trying to like, own her or something, so I told him to lay off ‘cause that’s totally not fair.”

She knew that Billy, having graduated and turned 18 now, was probably getting a little old for this type of drama, but he was a good listener, no matter how much he pretended not to care, always giving little bits of insight and saying things to make her laugh.

She continues, “Well, anyways he like, totally bit my head off for sticking up for her, so then I told him he was just a miserable mouth breather who’s jealous of El being happy, and he tried to kick me out.”

Billy laughed at that, muttering a little ‘ow’ when the action made Max pull his hair, “But you left before he could kick you out right?”

“Duh.” She sighs a little, the fun part of the story over. “Then when we pulled up outside, Lucas said something stupid about it being my fault or whatever, so I dumped him again.”

“Good. I told you not to take any shit from them anymore.” Billy had been less than happy with her friends a lot recently, when she’d come home from school or from hanging out upset over something they said. They never meant to hurt her feelings, but Billy didn’t like it all the same, and made her promise she’d stand up for herself a little more. Like she did to him.

“Yeah, I guess.” It makes her feel light on the inside, to know Billy was proud of her for following his advice, in his own way at least. “So? What happened to you?”

He shrugs again, and blows her off, “It’s nothing.”

“You were crying.”

“Yeah, and it’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not,” she fumbles with the braid and loses it, Billy’s stupid uneven mullet making it way too hard to braid so many different lengths of hair, “But I’m like, an expert now. El says she likes my advice.”

Under his breath, Billy mutters, “‘Course she does.”

Max purses her lips and pretends she didn’t hear that before continuing her offer, “Anyways, I can always try to help.”

“Listen, it’s just stupid dating stuff. Nothin’ you need to be worrying about.”

“But I’m a girl. I can give advice about that.” She thinks about it for a second, “I mean, I know more about being a girlfriend than having one, but it’s probably about the same.”

“Maybe.” Billy mumbles, focusing all his attention on picking at the nail polish that had missed the edges of his nails, and just from the way he tensed up she can tell she’d overstepped Billy’s boundaries in some way or another.

She finishes of the braid she had already started over twice now and puts a blue scrunchie on the end of it, giving him a minute.

When she starts combing out the rest of his hair is when Billy speaks again, not a drop of his distinctly Billy attitude in his words as he admitted softly, “You know, shitbird, I never said anything ‘bout having a girlfriend.”

That’s confusing to her at first, because he had just told her it was a dating thing, but Max’d been hearing all the nasty things Neil said about Billy for years now, and while she might just be a kid, might be the clueless and annoying little sister, she still knew the weight of what he’d just admitted to her.

It had always made her sad, to know Neil didn’t really like Billy, all the mean words he used, ones she wouldn’t dare repeat, to describe Billy and his friends, all the lies he told about him behind his back. But she doesn’t buy it, what her asshole step-dad had to say.

Her brother was cool, and she liked hanging out with him, when he wasn’t being such a jerk. The fact that he had a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend didn’t change that in the least bit.

She hums, trying to gather words and, her voice strained against the outburst of happiness, says “See? I can totally help with boy stuff.”

[mypoisonedvine]

Dishonorable Discharge | dark!Bucky Barnes x sister!reader

please please please do not read or interact if this content would be triggering or upsetting for you in any way.  i do not condone the topics or behaviors that i write about.

summary: you and your brother were always thick as thieves, even if you weren’t technically related.  you weren’t ready for him to leave to go off to war, but you were even less prepared for the shell of him that would return.

warnings: noncon smut, sibling incest (I mean she’s adopted but still), breeding kink, innocence kink, loss of virginity, mention of hypothetical underage activity?? idk how to tag that but everyone in this story is 18+!

word count: 3.6k

tagging @lestersglitterglue​ cause they asked real nice!

Even though you were adopted, people always said that you and Bucky had a family resemblance.  It wasn't your respective appearances per se, but rather the way your eyes both sparkled.  Your parents sometimes joked that the two of you were more brother and sister than most brothers and sisters were— and they were right: even with the age gap, often the two of you felt like twins.  It was hard to imagine that your biological parents could've kept you and that you never would've known him... it felt like he had always been your brother, your best friend, your partner in crime; your Jamie.

You had been awful when he deployed.  You'd sobbed and screamed and beat his chest with your weak little fists.  You'd told him that if he left, you would hate him forever; that if he left, he might as well never come back.

Of course you regretted it once you got older and realized how stupid you were.  But you were only fifteen then, and heartbroken, and too selfish to understand that there were things more important than the promises you'd made to each other as children.  You were so afraid that he wouldn't come back and that you'd lose your only real friend in this world; and, like it often does, that fear turned to anger.  

By the time you were seventeen, you finally stopped crying and tried to make a life for yourself.  You tried to see it all as an opportunity: he'd always been the popular one, meaning you were stuck being known as "Bucky's little sister" rather than as your own person.  Now you could just be you for once— as soon as you figured out who you were without him.

By nineteen, you had lost hope that he would return.  You pretended to be at peace with that.  You pretended not to hate yourself for pushing him away when you needed each other most.  Silently, you thought of him every day; secretly, you went to church every night to pray for him.

It was the sort of neighborhood where you could leave your door unlocked, so you did.  Still, people usually knocked first.  You were wearing a nightgown you only wore around the house because it was much too short and small for you now, but with the hot weather, it was necessary.  You hadn’t expected to hear the door open, so as you nervously peered out from the hall to the foyer, you were beyond surprised at what you saw.

The man in the doorway… he looked familiar.  He was wearing your brother's uniform.  But his eyes were different.  That sparkle you shared was long gone.  And without it, you weren't sure he was your brother anymore.

"Jamie?" you asked, unable to believe what you were seeing.

Recognition crossed his face like he was hearing the name of someone he used to know.

"Jamie," you called again, your voice breaking as you ran to him; you wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tight enough to make up for all the lost time.  "I thought I'd lost you," you sobbed, "oh god, Jamie, I thought you were—"

"Shhhh," he soothed, finally reciprocating the hug as one hand stroked the back of your head.  

"Don't ever leave me again," you begged.  "I can't lose you again."

"I won't go," he promised softly.

And just like that, you were the same little girl who'd clung to his legs and begged him to stay all those years ago, but this time you'd gotten what you always dreamed of.  This time, he wasn’t going to leave.

“You still like your eggs basted?” you asked him with a toothy smile, doing your best to keep things light.  You had so many questions for him but you wanted him to just feel at home first.  You two had always told each other everything, so you figured it wouldn’t be long until he told you what he’d been through in the last several years.

When you turned to receive the answer to your question, though, you found him spaced out in his seat at the dining table, staring off into nothing.  You could tell he was thinking about something just from the way his eyes were glazed over; you could tell he was thinking about something unpleasant from the way his fist was tightened.

"Are you okay?" you asked gently.  Silence.

You left your place by the stove, crossing the kitchen and kneeling down so you were eye-level with him.  Hesitantly, you reached out to brush your hand against his face.  He was certainly older-looking, and stubble dusted his jaw where it met with where his hair had grown out.  You wondered if it was as strange for him to see you and how much you’d aged as it was for you to see him like this.

“Jamie,” you whispered, “come back to me.”

Finally, as your hand cupped his cheek, he turned to look at you.  Even with a face that was hard to recognize at times, the eyes that met yours were undoubtedly your brother’s.  Darker, yes, and clearly tired from everything they’d seen, but as blue and perfect as always.

"When you call me that,” he spoke, eyes scanning your face, “it's like no time has passed at all.  It's like I'm still the same boy I was the day I left."

You swallowed.  "But you aren't, are you?"

He shook his head, just barely.

“Hey, listen to me,” you instructed, getting more serious and refusing to let him break the eye contact.  “It doesn’t matter what you’ve seen, or what you’ve done.  You’re my brother.  You’re my best friend.  You’re my whole world—”

You choked up a little, but kept going.

“—and I’m glad you’re home, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, smiling that crooked smirk that made your heart melt every time.

“You still want those eggs?”

He nodded a little.

“Basted?”

“Yeah, basted,” he agreed, turning back to the table as you stood up and returned to the stove.

“Your room’s the same as it was when you left,” you told him as you cracked the first egg into the hot pan.  You were sort of nervous to bring up anything about that, but you thought he might find it comforting.

“I don’t think I’m ready to go in there yet,” he admitted.  

“Stay in my room tonight, then.  It’s almost the same as it was then, too…”

“I’m amazed that bed can still fit you; are you sure we’ll both be able to sleep on it?” he asked.

“Oh, I was gonna give you the bed and make myself a pallet on the floor!” you clarified, wondering how he ever thought the two of you could share a bed; you hadn’t since you were little little-- like, under ten-years-old little.

But when you turned to look at him again, he seemed genuinely disappointed.  "Of course I can't let you sleep on the floor.  You take the bed; I've got a lot of practice with sleeping on the ground anyhow."

That was the last thing you wanted, him reminded of what it was like out there.

"We'll share the bed," you announced.  "If I take off all the plushies and decorative pillows, there might just be room for you."

"Woah woah woah," Bucky raised his arms as if to motion for you to slow down.  "We can't just go evicting Mr. Hoppy!  He's been a full-time resident of your bed for the past twenty years!" 

You both laughed, and it was almost like old times.

"He'd happily move over for you, Jamie."

The two of you brushed your teeth side-by-side in silence; you waited for him to finish his shower while you turned down the sheets, scooping up everything decorative on the bed and tossing it into the chair in the corner.

You choked a little when he stepped into your room with only a towel around his waist, using another to rub his hair dry.

"Don't you have some pyjamas?" you asked awkwardly.  "No matter— I actually have some of the pants you used to wear right here."

You pulled the checkered pants from your closet, and handed them to him as he nodded gratefully; you barely turned around fast enough to look away before he dropped his towel.

"Why do you have these in here anyways?" he asked as you tried to ignore the sounds of the fabric brushing over his bare skin.

"I wear them, sometimes," you admitted, feeling your face get a little warm, "when I miss you."

"Well, I'm here now," he hummed, wrapping his arms around you from the back and pulling you into a hug.  You could feel the warmth of his chest and arms burning right through your silky shift.  You almost wished you had worn something thicker; and yet, somehow, you also wished that there was no fabric in the way at all.  

Slipping under the comforter together, you wondered if it was odd that he was cuddling up to you.  You didn't mind it, since it was the most like the brother you remembered that he'd been all day, but some part of you was worried what people would think if they knew.  

You brushed the thought aside.  Nobody would know anyways.  

He placed a kiss to the top of your head as you basked in how small it made you feel.  "You smell the same as before, sissy."

You used to hate that nickname but now it was beyond welcome.  It reminded you of simpler times.  

"I hope that's a good thing," you replied.

"It's a wonderful thing.  The day your handkerchief stopped smelling like you was the day I thought I would lose all hope," he recalled.

You remembered when he took it; he said he wanted something to remember you by, and you'd responded by telling him to just forget about you because obviously he never loved you at all.

"I was so cruel to you that day," you cringed.  "I hate myself so much for that..."

"Hey, hey," he got your attention with a soft plea, guiding your chin until you were looking up at him with watery eyes.  "You were a kid.  I was, too.  You acted out, it happens."

"But I said things that weren't true, Jamie— awful, terrible things…"

"I never believed them," he assured you with a smile.

"We promised to never lie to each other," you whimpered, "and I broke that promise."

He shook his head.  "It's all in the past now.  Just be honest with me from now on, and I'll keep every promise I made."

You remembered a pinky swear made up in the highest branches of a tree: a promise to never be apart.  He'd broken that one, but maybe he wouldn't do it again.  The thought made your heart flutter.

"Be honest," he instructed you again.  

"Always," you agreed.

"Do you love me?" he asked, so quiet it was barely a whisper.

"O-of course," you answered quickly, stuttering not because of any lack of surety but simply from wondering how he could ever question that.

Slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, his thumb and forefinger still holding your chin.  For a brief moment it felt believable as a familial kiss.

But then it didn't.

He began to move his mouth against yours, and instantly you pulled back, looking at him with what you figured must have been an expression of stunned confusion.  "Jamie," you mumbled in disbelief.

"I missed you so much," he purred, seeming to ignore your reluctance.  "Don't break my heart, sissy, I just want a kiss."

"I can't kiss you like that," you shook your head.

"Please?  You have no idea how lonely I've been, how hard it was without you…"

You felt guilty for his pain, and you had always hated to deny him of anything.  The absolute second that you gave him a hesitant nod, he dove right back in, kissing you deeper and harder than before.  His tongue forced its way into your mouth but you couldn't pull back; his arm had somehow gotten to the back of your neck, holding you close to him.

You whimpered with confusion when you felt his other hand moving up your leg and slipping under your nightgown.  He smiled against your lips when his fingertips brushed over your hips and he realized that you weren't wearing undergarments.  You internally cursed yourself for it, even though it was normal not to wear anything underneath a gown like this.  What was abnormal was what he was doing.

"You're so smooth, and soft," he murmured, just barely pulling back from the kiss, "and I know you want me so bad—"

Just as his hand started to move dangerously close to somewhere it was definitely not supposed to be, you reached down and stopped him by grabbing his forearm.  

"D-don't," you managed to stammer out.

"Don't?" he repeated incredulously.  "Well, why not?"

"It's wrong…" you explained weakly.

"Such a good little girl, just like always," he chuckled. "You haven't changed at all.  Except, of course, this incredible body…"

It was much too easy for him to wriggle out of your grip, pulling out from your nightgown only to reach up and roughly grab your breasts through it.  Your face was burning and your gut sank with fear— and yet, there was a paradoxical tingle of arousal burning between your legs.

"You've grown a lot while I was gone," Bucky noticed aloud, groaning softly as he felt you up.  "Almost didn't recognize you when I stepped in.  I saw those gorgeous legs of yours and thought, 'who's the fox and what's she doing in my house?'  Of course, by the time I'd realized it was my kid sister, it was too late."

"It's not too late," you desperately assured, "you can stop now, and we won't tell anybody, and it'll be like nothing ever happened—"

You stopped as he started laughing lowly, shaking his head.  "Sweetheart, I'm not coming back from this, don't you understand?  You were all I thought about while I was gone.  You're the only girl I ever loved."

His hips pressed forward and you gasped when you felt his erection pressing into your thigh.  You bit down on your lip to keep it from quivering; for some reason, you didn't want him to know how scared you were.

"Feel that?" he asked, grinning when you nodded nervously.  "That's how much I love you."

You stammered helplessly as he reached down between your legs again.  

"Time to find out how much you love me," he purred, and you were frozen; paralyzed.  Two of his thick fingers swiped through your folds, gathering the arousal they found there.  "Oh, you love me quite a lot."

"I— I don't—"

"Take this thing off," he demanded suddenly, grabbing your nightgown.  You shook your head.  "I'm not gonna ask you again," he informed you sternly.  "Take it off or I'm gonna rip it off'a you."

You shook your head again, tears flowing freely until you felt wet patches beside your face on your pillow.

Bucky growled and manhandled you onto your back, grabbing at your nightgown and pushing your arms out of the way when they reached up to cover your chest.

He tore through it like it was paper.  "Look at you," he murmured in awe, "all grown up."

"James," you sobbed, "what are you doing?!"

"I'm taking care of you!" he responded, seemingly confused that you would even ask that.  "You're my baby sister; I promised to always take care of you and I meant it."

"This isn't right," you whispered, partially to him but mostly to yourself.

"This is the only thing that's right," Bucky disagreed, leaning down a little to hover over you as he began to push his pants down.

You recoiled when you saw his cock; you hadn't seen one before, except in drawings.  They hadn’t prepared you for this.  His looked big, red at the tip like it was angry; leaking and throbbing like it was desperate.

"You a virgin, sissy?" he asked in a way that made it hard to tell if he was being genuine or mocking you.

You nodded; you'd promised to be honest, after all.

"You were saving yourself for me," he informed you, and before you could deny it, he continued, saying everything like it was obvious fact.  "You knew you needed me. You knew you'd only be satisfied by your big brother's cock."

You shook your head as tears welled in your eyes, your protests muffled as he roughly kissed you again.  You tried to push him away but he was like marble, hard and unyielding.  You felt his sex sliding over yours and it made you feel dizzy and a little nauseous.

"You know how long I've dreamed of being inside you?" he asked darkly, his lips brushing against your ear.  "You know how long I've wanted to get a taste of this perfect little cunt?  I'll give you a hint: it was before I left."

He ignored your sobs of fear and cries of pain, and pushed his hips forward; he groaned as his cock forced your walls to part, and you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

"Oh god," he moaned weakly when he bottomed out, "oh my fucking god… you feel so perfect, sissy.  You feel so fucking good, I swear I could come right now.  I could fill you up—" he pulled back out most of the way and shuddered— "right fucking now."

"N-no, Jamie," you sobbed, "you have to pull out, you can't come inside!"

"Why not?" he pouted, slamming into you so hard that you were forced to choke out your cry of pain.  "I think you want it.  I think I deserve it.  I could get you pregnant and then you'd be mine forever."

"No!" you sobbed.  "Please, you can't!"

"I can," he assured you coldly through his teeth, his arm wrapping around your neck to hold you steady as he fucked into you.  "I can, little girl, and I'm gonna."

Tears streamed down your face, even as you let yourself admit that your brother's movements inside you did feel… intriguing, to say the least.  He buried his face into your neck, fucking you deep but slow.  You'd never felt so full before; you wrapped your legs around his hips before you could stop yourself.

"Fuck," he groaned, "you want me so damn bad, don't you?  You always wanted me.  I remember how you got so jealous when I lost it to Betsy Miller."

As sick as it was, you had; and even now, imagining him doing this with her made your stomach twist.

"You want me all to yourself, don't you, sissy?"

Shamefully, you nodded.

"Aw, it's okay," he soothed.  "You've got me, sis.  'M never gonna leave ya.  We're gonna be together forever, just like we always said."

That was all you'd ever wanted.  Why did it sound so terrifying now?

"I can feel you squeezin' me, babydoll.  I know you wanna come all over my cock," he taunted.

"N-no," you stumbled over your denial, but pleasure was searing through you faster than you could handle it.

"Beg me to fill up this little pussy," he instructed as his eyes got darker and a hand wrapped around your throat.  "Beg or you don't get to breathe."

"Please," you moaned through your tears, "please, fill up my— my little pussy…"

"Yeah?  You want my come?"

He started thrusting faster and you could feel the way your arousal had spread to coat both his thighs and yours; why was your body so responsive?

"Please, Jamie, I want your come," you repeated.  "I need it…"

"I know you do," he snarled, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes.  "I know you do, baby, I know you need my come."

"Please…" you repeated one last time, the word coming out choked and weak as you felt your own orgasm starting to crash into you, your whole body tightening involuntarily.

"Fuck, I can feel you coming— 'm close, sissy, I'm not gonna last much— oh fuck—!"

His hips stuttered to a stop and you winced as you felt him flexing inside you, pumping his load into you for what felt like ages.

He collapsed on top of you with a sigh and a smile.  "I wanted to last longer, even jerked off in the shower to try to take the edge off but… you just felt too good."

You were silent and still beneath him as he rambled, kissing away your tears between each word.

"I'll take better care of you next time, sis, don't worry.  Wanna make you come with just my tongue," he announced excitedly.  "But that'll wait until tomorrow.  Tonight you just relax, and don't move too much so I can stay inside you.  It's the only way I'm gonna be able to sleep."

He hugged you all night, drifting off even while you were wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

You were horrified at what your brother had become, and at what he had done to you.  But that wasn't what kept you awake.  No, you couldn't sleep because you were too busy trying to deny how much you had enjoyed it.

[cobaincreates]

touch pt. 3

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (female receiving), 18+

count: 4k+

final part of touch! thank you so much for reading!

— — —

“just get the silver one with the straps. i think the purple is a bit too close on the magenta side.”

“i can wear my heels with this one.” sarah agreed, turning her hips. “do you still have those silver earrings from work? the long, dangly ones?”

“i think so, yeah. i’ll bring them over later.” you nodded at your phone screen, watching sarah fiddle with the dress she had on. the lighting from the fitting room made the dress look darker than it really was in the picture she originally sent you.

“what’s kie trying on?” you asked just as a notification popped up at the top of your screen.

rafe:

meet me on dock @ noon?

your stomach twisted as a smile immediately graced your lips. you quickly swiped out of the facetime session, hoping sarah didn’t see, as you went to reply.

“i think she’s looking for a pair of jeans she saw the last time we came. the ones with the stitched back pockets.” sarah said.

okay :), you sent.

you were met with the ceiling when you went back to facetime, staring at a small orb reflecting from the light.

“hopefully she finds them,” you said and checked the time again as you started to think about changing out of the pajamas you were still in.

you had the day off today, which so far had amounted to you skipping out on a shopping trip with sarah and kiara and settling for being lazy around an empty house. it wasn’t so bad, but you were ready to get a move on, rafe’s text motivating you.

“john b’s calling me. i’ll talk to you later?” sarah’s face suddenly appeared on the screen as she picked her phone up, her shoulders now bare. you held a peace sign above your messy bed-ridden hair and tossed your phone aside when you hung up.

it was impossible not to be smiley and giddy as you scoured your dresser for clothes to wear. who could blame you when you’d spent nearly every night this week staying up late to text back and forth with rafe. it felt like you were dreaming, like you were living in an alternate universe where you actually got something you wanted. a month ago, you never would’ve guessed that you’d be getting ready to meet up with rafe, much less be fooling around with him.

it was difficult to describe how you felt about it. obviously, you were happy and bubbling with excitement, so much so that you thought you were going to throw up anytime you reminisced on the time spent with him. you tried not to dwell on the fact that you were technically sneaking around with him, but it had only been a few times so did it really constitute as such? you knew you had to tell sarah; the only thing stopping you being that you just weren’t sure when a good time would be.

when you had gotten home the other day from the marsh, you quickly closed yourself in your room. there was no reason to hide the grin within the privacy of your own space, so you let it stay there, your cheeks hurting so much by the time you went to sleep. you couldn’t believe you’d finally kissed rafe and you even caught yourself pressing your lips together, trying to trap the sensation of it there, and closing your eyes. 

and rafe finally getting a taste of you? fuck, it was perfect.

back in your room, you quickly finished getting ready. as you sprayed some perfume just for the hell of it, you thought about where you were going if he wanted to meet on his dock. you tried to picture him waiting for you. would he smile when you were too far away to see it? would his skin tingle with vibrant energy, just waiting to touch you? you swore you felt that same sensation every time you thought of him.

by the time you pulled up to tannyhill and grew closer to the house, you spotted him patiently waiting on the dock. his dad’s boat was there, rocking ever so slightly in the water. rafe looked up at the sound of your car and you parked it beside his truck, a fast-approaching heat spreading up your neck at his open windows. it was like they were encouraging you to have the thoughts of being in the back seat.

you only brought your keys with you as you got out, your phone sitting in the cup holder along with a few receipts you’d been meaning to throw out. rafe watched you as you walked over the grass and toward the wooden planks of the dock. he squinted an eye shut to watch you and you wanted to tell him that that was what the hat on his head was for, if only he turned it around. instead, you smiled at your feet.

“where is everyone?” you said over the few yards you hadn’t closed yet between you. your feet brushed over the planks, going down the small slope to where rafe was standing at the back of the boat.

“ward is out of town,” rafe said, lifting his chin a bit. “rose is doing whatever rose does with her girlfriends, wheezie is on the computer, but she’s leaving soon.” you came to a stop a couple steps away from him, fiddling with the keys in your hand. “and sarah is with kie today, which i’m sure you already knew,” he smiled at the end, like he was satisfied to have you all to himself.

“mmm,” you hummed humorously. “are you taking me out?” you asked, jutting your chin to the yacht.

rafe looked over, giving you time to run your eyes quickly down his chest and lower half. you adored the blue button up he had on, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. wasn’t he hot?

“we can’t exactly go anywhere since ward would kill me,” he looked back at you, smirking, “but i figured we could hang out here.”

“hang out?” you smiled, biting the inside of your lip slightly and tilting your head.

he nodded, his hand slipping from his pocket and extending out to you. you stared back at him as a familiar feeling pooled in your lower abdomen, one you’d felt many times around him. you never wanted it to go away, and maybe it was ridiculous to think in such a way, but you never wanted to feel it for anyone else.

pushing your keys into one hand, you reached out for his and held on. he held it firmly as he turned and went to the back platform to step onto. you followed all the way inside, feeling the cooler atmosphere in the shade. it didn’t look any different than the last time you’d been on it, just tidied up a bit more.

you set down your keys on the dining table and turned your back to lean against it. rafe was already watching you curiously.

“are you going to come over here?” you weren’t sure where it came from, but you couldn’t help yourself from asking.

he broke out into a smile and stepped closer until his feet were in front of yours. you laughed, almost nervously, and let your eyes trail up his form. stopping at his torso, you put your hand out to touch one of the buttons on his shirt. he touched your waist, causing you to breathe in shakily. he shuffled closer, your hand now pressed against his stomach and spreading a warmth up your arm. you could see his forearms flex for just a split second.

“i’ve been having a lot of fun with you, you know.” he said.

“have you?” you smiled.

you let your eyes resume their trail up his chest, gliding over the hollow of his neck, skimming his jaw. finally, your eyes connected with his.

“yeah, i have.”

“sneaking or fooling around?” you asked, moving your arms to circle around his neck. your chest pressed to his, nearly having you breathe deeper as your shirt exposed a sliver of your stomach. rafe could feel it, his palms warm over your skin.

“mostly the fooling around part.” he said proudly, holding back a smile as if it would scare you.

you had to admit that’s what you’d been enjoying too. fuck, there had been nothing more thrilling than having rafe cameron between your legs, in his truck, with no one around. it wasn’t like you to sneak around, and while it had been fun, you knew sarah needed to know.

you hummed, looking up at his hat and teasingly taking it off to place upon your own head. he brushed his newly disheveled hair then smiled down at you, his head slightly tilting. you wondered if you looked as good as he did in the hat.

“do you think sarah would kill me if she knew?” you asked seriously, not wanting to put a damper on the mood, but it had been something on your mind lately.

“no, she’d probably kill me.” he stated.

you laughed, glancing out the door to the bow of the boat, knowing he had to be right. “i have to tell her,” you sighed, imagining it for a moment. you didn’t want her to be upset.

but you had known sarah for so long that you knew in your heart she wouldn’t be mad at you. she couldn’t. if anything, she might be a little weirded out, but she would embrace it, just like you embraced john b. it had been so weird, but so right for them to get together. maybe she’d feel the exact same way about you and rafe. then again, you and rafe weren’t dating, were you?

“i’m having fun with you too,” you said, quieter this time as if another person might’ve been on the boat with you.

you looked back up at him, searching his eyes. you weren’t sure why you suddenly felt so scared, so anxious for saying that aloud. he had already admitted the same thing, so what was there to be afraid of?

a soft gasp fell from your lips as rafe pulled you closer, his hand slipping over your bottom. his eyes seemed to darken, although you couldn’t exactly tell if it was from his face moving closer. either way, it added to the pooling in your abdomen.

“sucking my dick or me eating you out?” he asked, his voice laced with lust.

you couldn’t help the blush sparking in your cheeks, heating your skin up faster than if you were to sit in front of a fire. you opened your mouth to answer him, instead watching as he disappeared and moved to your jaw. his mouth was warm and slick over your skin. you slipped your eyes closed and tightened your hold around his shoulders. god, you didn’t want him to stop.

“both,” you remembered to say, answering his question.

rafe squeezed at your ass, simultaneously moving your hips closer. you let out a breath when you brushed against him. he moved from your jaw then and found your lips.

“i thought we were just hanging out?” you teased, continuing to kiss him back in between the words. he was insatiable at the moment, never once letting you get too far away.

“we can if that’s what you want.” his breath was hot and growing heavy by the second. you smiled at the double meaning of his reply and pulled away slightly to shake your head. fuck no, you didn’t want to just hang out.

dropping your hands to the table behind you, you lifted yourself up and sat before tugging him in between your legs. you locked him in place with your thighs and reached up to connect your lips again. he obliged, running his tongue along your bottom lip in question. you happily allowed him access, making a small noise as you felt the pooling seep to your undies now.

his hands settled on your thighs for a little, gliding against your skin and sending shivers in each direction. you pushed your chest against his, wanting nothing more than to touch him, to feel him, to have his hands everywhere on your body. you nearly groaned in agony just wanting to ask him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. but it wasn’t long before he brought a hand up your side and rested over your breast. it was so warm and cupped you so nicely that you contemplated just letting it stay there, but your arousal told you differently.

pulling away, you managed to take your shirt off fast enough that you should’ve won the world record. you knocked rafe’s hat off while doing so, hearing it fall to the table behind you.

“fuck,” rafe swooned over your exposed chest.

he slipped an arm around your lower back, pulling you closer to the edge of the table and simultaneously against his bulge. you moaned and arched into his hand on your breast again, his grip gently kneading over your bra. what would his lips feel like there? you almost wish you could’ve found out the other day in the truck, but this…this was better.

feeling rather curious, or just very horny, you decided to rub your hips into rafe’s, feeling how hard he was. you felt the muscles in his back turn to steel, the noise against your lips contradicting it. his hand dropped from your breast to join his other at your lower back and you reveled in the way he gripped you tighter against his own body.

“fuck, i want you rafe, please.” you said, feeling the throbbing in your lips from kissing so much. you felt it just as much behind your shorts, your undies were practically drenched. you were so wet and you didn’t want to wait anymore for him to know it.

“i-i want you too,” he panted, loosening his grip.

he was very reluctant to pull away, to lose touch of you, but he was quick and excited as he pulled his shirt off, ripping some of the buttons. it made you laugh, your chest heaving for breath as you watched. he reached for your shorts next, moving fast and taking them off with your underwear at the same time. you didn’t mind, drawing your lip between your teeth, lifting your hips as you watched him do so. he pushed his bottoms off, fishing in his pocket for a condom he cleverly packed.

you drank in the sight of him, your thighs clenching together at the sight of his arousal and the dark curls surrounding him. for a second it felt like you shouldn’t be looking, that this was too private and not meant for your eyes, but once you looked up at his face and took in the way he was doing the same exact thing to you, you melted.

“you’re fucking pretty, you know that?” he said as he came back in between your legs, pushing your hair out of your eyes, and giving you a firm kiss.

“seems like you tell me a lot.” you answered and reached out to touch him gently. he sucked in a breath as your hand wrapped around him, your fingers registering that lovely vein again.

you could probably stare at your hand all day and revel in that vein, but instead you lifted your head and attached your lips to rafe’s neck. his hands went behind you so he could open the packet and it probably would’ve taken him a shorter amount of time if you weren’t sucking a mark into his skin and slowly rubbing him. he moaned lowly before getting the packet open successfully. you spent a few more seconds on his neck, then licked over the spot and pulled away.

rafe’s hand came over your wrist. he squeezed lightly then pulled your hand to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to your palm. he held your hand for a moment while he leaned in to press a kiss to your mouth. “can i taste you first?”

“o-okay,” you nodded quickly. “yeah.”

you practically reeled as he crouched down to his knees in front of you and brought a leg over his shoulder. you moved to the very edge of the table, having a slight thought of falling completely off, but you had a feeling rafe would catch you or you’d both laugh it off.

those thoughts completely disappeared as rafe put his mouth on you. you pulled a lip between your teeth, watching him as he did.

“fuck, you’re so wet for me.” he noted and gripped your thighs before licking a long stripe up your folds.

one of his hands slipped from your leg and you wondered what he was doing for a second, before you saw the muscles flexing in his shoulder. that got you even hotter, knowing that he was touching himself while having his mouth on you. you nearly couldn’t think straight as he licked you again. he dipped into your entrance and you swallowed a whimper when he decided to leave you like that.

you watched him stand back up and lick his lips as he rolled the condom on, your stomach flipping and rolling in anticipation. you swallowed thickly and looked up at rafe when he was ready, his hand gentle as it appeared on your hip.

“are you ready?” he asked in a deep breath. “if you want to stop, just tell me, okay?”

“okay,” you nodded with a small smile.

you spread your legs wider and looked down at the same time as rafe so you could watch him. you breathed slowly to relax, watching as he guided himself to your entrance and slowly moved inside of you. your mouth fell open as a result, your arms nearly giving out. he opened you up the more he slid in, his palm on your thigh pressing more and more until he was completely inside.

“s-shit,” you panted and let your head fall back for a moment.

you breathed, closed your eyes. you tried to remember everything. you wanted to remember everything about this moment, about what it was like to have rafe inside of you. christ, you’d been in this same spot a week ago, daydreaming about his damn arms and veins and whole entire being. you’d lusted after him, tasted him, had him taste you, and now here you were. how the fuck did you get here?

you took a deep breath and leaned your head up. rafe’s mouth was open, his grip now like a vice on your thigh.

“fuck, you feel so good,” rafe said. “just like i imagined.”

you nearly whined at that and pressed your thighs into his hips to hold him in place. you licked your lips and pulled his mouth to yours, inviting him to move finally. he pulled his hips back slowly, holding onto you before moving back it. he did it a couple times, trying to get you used to him. fuck, he felt amazing.

rafe set a pace, his hand making a home on your lower back while his other held your leg up behind your knee. you couldn’t get enough of his praises each time he pulled away from you.

“god, you’re perfect,” he moaned, slipping his tongue into your mouth. “you fit so nicely around me, baby.”

you also couldn’t get enough of that damn pet name. it sounded even better falling from his lips in this exact moment.

“you’re taking my cock so well.”

with that praise you couldn’t help the way you fluttered around him, squeezing him tightly and causing both of you to moan. he almost lost his rhythm for a moment but got it back as he kissed the corner of your lips down to your jaw. you kept your eyes closed, you found it easier so you could focus on just feeling him.

he pressed kisses down your neck, stopping at a few places to nip. it tickled you and aroused you at the same time, if not more. a minute later, he found his way to your breast, your back arching again to push into his mouth. his tongue appeared, flicking over your nipple.

“rafe,” you moaned louder than before and tightened your legs around him as you felt that coil wind up. “go f-faster.”

he groaned against you, the vibrations traveling all the way down to your core. he picked up the pace and groped you now, giving your breast a squeeze while his tongue flicked again. his teeth skimmed over it before he bit down gently, making your hand fly to his hair to keep his head where it was.

his thumb appeared on your clit and you had a feeling that he was about to completely ruin you. his mouth popped off of you and he leaned in for a kiss, his lips wet and swollen. wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you cried out as he grabbed a tight hold of your hip and picked up the pace, your skin starting to smack. you felt yourself squeeze around him as his tongue played with yours and it was almost too much that you had to pull away from the sensation.

“holy— f-fuck. rafe, i'm s-so close.”

“you gonna come for me?” his breath blew across your face, overly warm and heavy. “come for me. i want to feel you come on my cock, baby.”

his thumb timed up with his hips now, making your eyes prick with tears as you squeezed them shut tightly. you gripped rafe’s shoulder, trying to hold onto something as you felt it coming.

“that’s it, come on. i got you.” he coaxed you through it so gently that it made you want to sob.

instead, you cried out as you reached your climax, feeling yourself pulse and squeeze around rafe as you came over him. your whole body twitched and tensed as rafe kept circling your clit, helping you through it. you moaned lowly from your chest, your head falling backward and your eyes relaxing. you had no idea rafe was so close behind until his forehead fell to yours and his thrusts slowed. he pulled out and thrusted hard, doing that a few times until he came undone too. you felt him pulse inside of you, emptying into the condom in spurts. you wished you could taste it again.

you drew your face into his neck, still gripping his shoulder. your palm was sweating against the table behind you and you wondered how you lasted so long holding yourself up the whole time. your heartbeat gushed less in your ears as the minutes went by and your body relaxed against rafe’s. you still felt so full, wanting to keep him there longer.

pressing a kiss to that hollow between your neck and shoulder, rafe rubbed your back soothingly. “you did so good, baby.”

you hummed into his skin then pulled away to brush his hair and kiss him softly. “thank you,” you said quietly, not exactly for the compliment.

you made a noise close to a whine when rafe moved out of you. you knew he had too, watching as he pulled the condom off and tied it closed. he went to the trash bin in the kitchen to toss it while you reluctantly moved off the table. you slid, looking back to see a small mess you made with rafe on the surface.

just when you were about to ask rafe for something to clean it up with, he came back with a rag already in his hand. he held it out to you and you smiled, knowing he got it for you. you cleaned between your legs than folded the rag a couple times before wiping the table clean.

rafe’s hand came to your sides, caressing softly over your skin. you smiled at his chest, touching his arms and warming up at the thought of what you two had just done. he pulled you closer just to hold you, his hands roaming to your back. it was comforting to have the silence to touch each other, to just be for a few quiet moments.

“as much as i would love to just stand here with you, i'm a little paranoid that someone can easily see in here.” you said after a while, looking right at the open door to the back deck of the boat.

“maybe you should’ve thought about that before we fucked on the table.” rafe said and you could hear the stupid grin on his face.

you nudged him away jokingly as you laughed, but he switched to a serious look when he tugged you back by the hips. you swallowed as you felt him against your thigh, nearly ready to go again. you looked up at rafe, biting your lips together to keep the grin at bay.

“do you want to go inside?” he smiled softly, glancing down at your lips.

“yes,” you nodded.

you pulled away to pull your clothes on. rafe teased you with your undies, holding them out for you to take, then snatching them out of reach. you jabbed him in the side until he gave them to you, a teasing grin on his face.

your shirt settled around you and you looked at rafe just as he caught your wrist and tugged you closer. his lips connected with your cheek and he hugged you against him, warm and solid. it was familiar, something you didn’t think you’d be able to say about him. you looped your arms around his shoulders and hugged him back.

“what?” you asked when you pulled away, finding another dumb smile on his face.

“think we could do this again sometime?” he searched your eyes, glancing down at your lips.

you laughed and rolled your eyes, knowing that’s exactly what you were about to do once you got inside the house. why would he ask such a silly thing?

“of course,” you said anyways before pushing him away to get your keys.

you headed inside with him, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. you wondered how you looked, walking into tannyhill with him. you knew by the smile on your face that you were happy, and you guessed that he was too by the way he was holding you against him.

“wheezie?” rafe shouted into the house as he closed the door behind you two, his hand clasped tightly around yours.

silence followed his voice as you looked around the entryway, trying your best to hear for wheezie’s movements, or anybody’s voice. coast clear, you wanted to say but rafe beat you to it.

“fuck yes,” he sighed happily and pulled you by the hips to him. you laughed against his lips, kissing him back as you kicked your shoes off.

the next few seconds were filled with stumbling up the stairs like two drunks, pausing every so often just so rafe could kiss you, rafe making grabby hands at you and hardly letting you go. it’s a wonder how you even made it up the stairs. you giggled at him once you got into his room, him quick to toss his shirt to the floor, and closed the door.

—

“hello?”

your head snapped to rafe beside you, who was still working on catching his breath. sarah was home and you immediately panicked as you sat up.

“anybody home?” she called again, sounding so sweet like she was.

“up here!” rafe shouted, bare ass as can be and making your jaw go slack.

you smacked his thigh, the sound cracking sickeningly, before you scrambled off the bed to pull your clothes on.

“stop hitting me,” he laughed and lifted himself up to watch you stumble putting your shorts on.

“fuck off!” you whispered as if you had a chance at avoiding the impending situation. you pulled your shirt on roughly, completely forgetting a bra as you walked out of rafe’s room.

you managed to close his door completely and meet sarah at the top of the stairs. she looked up at you, surprised, carrying a few shopping bags.

“hey?” she greeted. “i could’ve sworn i heard my brother instead.”

oh beautiful, sweet, smart sarah. was there any way out of this? 

“i need to tell you something.” you said quickly and bit your lip anxiously.

sarah lifted an eyebrow at you, searching your face. you took an unsteady deep breath in. she won’t be mad, she won’t be mad, she won’t be mad. there was no way you could postpone this. this had to be done now otherwise you’d never forgive yourself. it’s so simple! you just have to say the words, just admit it. sarah, listen, i'm sl—

“you forgot this.” rafe’s voice came from behind you, making your stomach drop and sarah’s eyes completely divert over your shoulder.

turning slowly, you were absolutely mortified to see him holding your bra so comfortably. and he looked so proud too. god, you were going to kill him. that’s it, you were going to kill him. well, it had been nice while it lasted.

“oh my god,” you and sarah said at the same time.

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[calpops]

losing love | c.h.

two: hollowed hearts

series masterlist | my masterlist | feedback and reblogs mean the world

Copyright © 2021 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

✦ ✦ ✦

Morning comes with the shadows of dreams lingering in Calum’s mind. A demure silhouette slinks through his waning memory of the night. Sunlight pools in from the open curtains and cuts across the wooden floor in turrets of gold. He’s bleary. Mind working in overtime to put all of the scattered pieces of the previous night back together. There’s only one thing that invades him and that he’s certain of. Everest.

He remembers it in rewind, all of the flashes of her playing backwards in hazy pictures. He remembers her doorstep, the ivy that climbed the stones and the halos of light that pooled in her dark eyes. Headlights blur past his vision, the beams cutting from his car as they sat on the hood and ate fast food, drank milkshakes and she wore his jacket over her shoulders. The party comes back to him, only in the sense of leaving with her. The downcast and forlorn gazes she gave him across the room, the broken syllables she uttered and the pain she tried to hide.

Calum groans, turns himself to his side and wards off the want to bury his head under his pillow and let himself succumb to the feeling crawling across his chest. If he had the heart to do so, he would’ve cursed her, himself, the situation, the fact that he couldn’t forget. The fact that she was his best friend’s date and somehow they had ended the night with each other.

He only pulls himself from the warm comfort of his bed when a knock on the front door jars him. He’s padding down the hallway when he hears the unceremonious squeak of the hinges and feels his heart pick up. Only one person has a key.

Ashton’s taken up a home in the kitchen, hands placed on the marble countertop and eyes patient as they find Calum breaking around the corner. Calum stops suddenly, just the sight of his best friend bringing to stir too many thoughts through his tired mind.

“I saw you leaving with Everest last night,” Ashton says, the words a whip that crack through the air and bring a pain behind Calum’s eyes. He stays quiet save for the painful thud of his racing heart. “She made it home okay?”

Calum nods, wary of where the situation is headed. Nothing happened, he reminds himself. He kept her warm, got her food, brought her home and made sure she made it inside okay. Nothing happened.

The only problem is, he wished something had.

“Yeah, walked her to the door and made sure she got in okay,” Calum says in a rush and finally finishes his way into the kitchen to drop himself onto a barstool.

“Thanks, mate,” Ashton says, the sincerity a little too much to take in at such an early morning hour. “I was hoping you’d swoop in and save me somehow.”

Calum furrows his brows and tilts his head to the side, unaware that Ashton would have wanted him to be the hero.

“I just… did what I could.”

Calum feels a burn in the back of his throat and bites the tip of his tongue.

Ashton lets out a small breath and shakes his head, curls bouncing and dropping into his eyes with the motion.

“I thought I wanted you to get me away but I’m glad you took care of Everest. I think I really needed the closure, and so did she. Horrible timing, but a good outcome?” The hope in Ashton’s voice is palpable, his gaze skirts to the countertop where he drums his fingers in a nervous habit coming to life. “Did Everest seem upset? I tried calling this morning but she hasn’t answered.”

Calum feels a coil of tension wrap through him. He shakes his head uncertainly, trying hard to remember her demeanor about Ashton when they first left. It’s all replaced with moonlit eyes and the smell of honey coming off her hair.

“Maybe a little,” he offers with a small shrug.

Calum’s arms cross over his chest where heat pools on his skin, simmers under the surface and aches with a burning echo from his chest to the pit of his stomach. Ashton nods and blows out a bigger, deeper breath.

“I know it didn’t look good,” Ashton begins and runs a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have let it go on so long. But it made me realize how ready I am to move on, with Everest. I think she’s good for me.”

Calum swallows past a lump in his throat and lets Ashton continue on his spiel of self discovery, of all the things he’s learned about himself since his breakup and meeting Everest. He goes deep and pulls back, dives further and relents. He ends it with the hope that she’ll give him a second chance to prove himself.

“She’s pretty fond of chances,” Calum mumbles and brushes off the confused look Ashton gives him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. She seems nice, understanding.”

“She is,” Ashton says enthusiastically, heart on his sleeve and hope in his eyes. He rambles about her and the possibilities of what a second chance might mean.

“Maybe you should take it slow,” Calum warns before he can think through the foreboding words. He flinches at his own stupidity, face scrunching up as he wishes he could take it back. “It’s just—you’re just coming out of a relationship, she’s just gotten into the city. You’ve only been on what, four dates?”

“Three,” Ashton says around a growing frown. “Slow and steady is better for the long term, right?”

“Sure.” Calum gives a noncommittal shrug.

He’s the last person to be giving Ashton love advice. All of his relationships ended in flames and destruction. And now there is a heat that lives under his skin for the woman he speaks of.

“I think I’ll text her, see if she’s okay, see where she stands with me. No pressure.”

Calum nods. Curls his hands into fists and bids Ashton goodbye as he darts for the door with renewed hope but realistic expectations. Calum follows him to the door and runs his hands over the oak as it closes. He sucks in a deep breath and wills his hands to stop shaking and heart to stop racing. Guilt coils so thoroughly through him he has to remind himself he’s done nothing wrong. It’s only fleeting feelings encouraged by a lurid night that meant nothing to her, and should mean nothing to him.

He’s not sure how long he stands there processing it all; sifting through the moments and trying to forget them, trying to convince himself that all he needs is a little distance from her. All she needs is a little time with Ashton. Then everything will fall back into place. He pushes away from the door and barely makes it to the kitchen counter before he’s called back.

A slight tap sounds from the other side of the door, Calum nearly jumping out of his skin at the sudden noise. It’s soft and rhythmic; taptaptap, taptaptap. He spins himself around on his heel, braces himself for just a moment with his hand on the cool doorknob. He’s not expecting anyone but Ashton’s already made an appearance and disturbed his morning. He slowly opens the door and feels as if he’s taken away with the breeze that sweeps across his skin, feels that the fire comes back to life and wavers in the wind.

Everest stands on his porch, his leather jacket folded across her arms with her gaze cut down to the wooden beams of the floor. She’s poised, stood with grace and her toes turned into each other. She looks up as Calum lets out a breath and grabs a hold of the doorframe to keep himself steady against the wind and the fire warring within him.

“I forgot to give this back last night,” she says with a tiny smile.

She offers over the jacket and Calum is sad to see it leave her grip as he takes it back. But the scent of honey comes in a collision to his senses, spins his world off kilter and ripples guilt all over him. For a moment he realizes that Ashton’s not too far gone; he could be here for her in only a few minutes. He contemplates telling her that he already stopped by and asked about her, worried over the prospect of her getting home safe, confided in him about getting closure and finding happiness and something good with her.

“Do you wanna come in?” he asks instead, the words hot and narrow, closing off the possibility that he might find some distance from her. “I was just about to make some coffee.”

“I don’t like coffee,” she says, scrunches up her nose and then smiles. “But I’d still like to come in.”

Calum laughs, just a little, at the fake out and moves aside to let her in. She sweeps past him in a lurid and quick movement. She’s sure and confident as she enters his world. It’s all too easy to imagine what might have been, what could be, if there wasn’t a ten ton weight of guilt and pressure crushing his chest.

Calum darts his gaze up the hallway, pictures of Everest moving down the narrow space and towards his bedroom infiltrating his thoughts. He clears his throat, hangs his jacket up and takes a big breath in, thankful for the sweetness in his lungs.

“Can I get you anything else?” he questions as he turns and lists off a few of the things he thinks might be within his means. Water. Juice. Hot chocolate. Stale bread, expired muffins. She laughs and tosses her soft hair behind her shoulder.

“I’m alright,” she answers, gaze following him as he rounds the island and comes to make a perch on the side towards the kitchen.

He gestures for her to sit on the stool opposite him then plants his elbows on the marble countertop. She bids his offer and takes a seat, midnight eyes glimmering with curiosity as she peers at him. It’s silent for a beat. Cheeks warm and thoughts waver. Calum purses his lips and taps his fingers on the counter.

“I also wanted to say something to you.” She shifts on the stool, brings her hands up and folds her fingers together. Her gaze doesn’t waver and Calum finds that he doesn’t mind the way she keeps him with her, and finds that he quite likes the feeling of being kept by her so fully. “Thank you.”

Calum tilts his head to the side, unable to understand the gratitude. “For?” he asks, shakes his head and furrows his eyebrows.

“Last night. Bringing me home,” she says and shrugs then shakes her head and back peddles, “for cheering me up and then bringing me home.” She stresses cheering me up with such sincerity in her voice and eyes it nearly knocks Calum off balance. She has a sway in her voice, a way of intoning anything and everything that’s important to her.

“It was nothing.”

Yet, it meant more than it should have to him.

“No, it meant a lot to me.”

Calum’s heart races wildly at the admission. He feels a little faint, cuts his gaze down to the swirling marble and sees that it’s moving through his vision. He’s trying to swim and keep afloat in her honesty but he feels more as if he’s sinking. Sinking and drowning as he looks back up and gets lost in the dark.

“I just did what I could,” Calum says for the second time that morning. He remembers Ashton’s gratitude and the explanation for why it was even needed in the first place. Heat cuts through him. He sighs. “I knew Ashton wouldn’t want you to be upset. He’d want you home safe, too.”

Everest nods, even and unflinching at the mention of Ashton. She doesn’t say anything for a moment. No emotion crosses her face. She’s stoic and calm, eyes as clear as a midnight summer sky.

“He’s a good guy.” She abandons her stool and stands, leans a bit over the counter and puts a hand on top of Calum’s. “But I don’t want to be his rebound.”

Calum’s breath catches in the back of his throat. He chokes it down and fights the urge to envelop her hand in his. He stays still, scared that the moment is so fragile it might shatter if he dares to move. Scared that it might become something even more.

“He said he got closure last night. It made him realize he wants you.”

He doesn’t know where the unbridled honesty is coming from, not when all of the thoughts in his mind are shouting into the emptiness of reckless abandon. He wants to leave Ashton’s name to the wind. To take her hand and close the distance between them. To find out if she tastes like honey too.

Everest pulls her hand away and shakes her head just a bit. “I didn’t know he was so unsure all this time. I didn’t know I was just an option until last night.”

Cold kisses Calum’s skin where her touch abandoned him.

“You’re the one he chose,” Calum reminds and wants to hit himself, bite his tongue, somehow stop the words from pouring out of him.

His loyalty runs deep, his need to defend his best friend heightens with each passing moment but he feels as if all of the stone walls he’s put up at the battlements are starting to crumble. Everest is able to strike through them, to create gaps in the stones and peer through to the other side. She sees the things that Calum would rather keep hidden.

“I don’t want to be a choice. I just want to be… the one, with the right one. I don’t know if that’s Ashton,” she says, voice cracking and gaze finally dropping from his. For all of the cool and calm she once possessed she begins to break, hand trembling and lip jutting out in thought. “I’m sorry, we probably shouldn’t even be talking about this. You’re his best friend. I can’t put this on you.”

“It’s okay,” Calum quickly reassures and wants to reach out to her but keeps his hands strictly to himself. He lets out a breath that makes his chest ache. “You deserve to be the one. But maybe Ashton also deserves a second chance to prove that you are. You’ll never know unless you give him another chance..”

Pain strikes hot and white through Calum, like a crack of lightning lashing against his darkened being. He shuts his eyes for a split second, feeling the sway of the world rocking around him. He brings his hands to his chest without thinking, rubs at his ribs and tries to convince himself the ache he feels is nothing.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Everest mumbles. She nods to herself for a moment, quiet and thoughtful, Calum eternally grateful that he has a moment to recollect himself. “He called me this morning. I should probably call him back. Hear him out.”

“If you want to,” Calum says and realizes how scattered he is with her.

He defends Ashton, pushes her towards forgiving him, then relents and reels her back just a bit. He can’t shake it, he can’t ward off the words that roll from his tongue before his mind can process them. He needs air, he needs that distance he decided on this morning. He needs honey to drift away in the wind and midnight eyes to vanish into the day.

He gets his wish as she leaves him, takes all of the sweetness from his lungs and the darkness from his gaze. Bids him goodbye with another chaste and aching kiss to his cheek. She leaves only the lingering curiosity of what the phone call might entail and the ache he still rubs at in his chest.  He tries to catch his breath as he shuts the door and glides to the window to watch her walk away. His hand grips the leather jacket she gave back to him as she dips down into her car. All he can see is her in the passenger seat with the leather draped over her shoulders. All he can feel is the brush of her lips igniting sparks against his cheek. Guilt swallowing him whole. Emotions stifled. Two hallowed hearts ignored.

✦ ✦ ✦

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[stardusttrashed]

Drunk In Love

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Swearing, Drunk reader, Fluff, Angst (if you squint), Brief mentions of NSFW

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Fem!reader

Summary: Katsuki comes to pick you up from a hangout after you drunk called him 

A/n: loosely based off drunk me... yes I hogged all the watermelon jolly ranchers by putting them in my bra, don’t judge lol. Also all characters are of drinking age

“Where’s my little dumbass,” Katsuki grumbled as he stood outside the door. The bitter cold was slowly beginning to seep through his numerous layers. He jammed his hands into his pockets, hunched over from the cold and out of annoyance. It was three in the morning and beginning to snow, yet here he was miles away from his warm, cozy house because you had drunkenly called not once but five times. 

“Over there hogging all the Jolly Ranchers,” Sero laughed, nodding over his shoulder. The cold outside air was hitting him like a truck, killing the little buzz he had. He stepped aside, making room for Katsuki to come inside. “She won’t let me get one until she’s done.”

Katsuki could hear your carefree giggles from inside the room, followed by delighted squeals. “What does this one say?” You asked with childlike curiosity as you shoved the piece of candy into Mina’s view.

Katsuki sighed and shook his head, holding back a laugh. “Tch, figures. Damn idiot,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. 

“How’s it going outside?” Sero crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall, casually huddling up to regain the warmth he just lost. “Heard it’s supposed to get colder.”

Katsuki shrugged nonchalantly, “started snowing on my way here.” The small two-bedroom apartment felt like a warm summer’s day compared to the frigid weather. It was like being thrown straight into an oven after spending so long in a freezer. He shrugged off his coat and shoes, “couldn’t exactly ignore her calls, though.” His eyes scanned the small, open room for you. 

“Denki,” you giggled loudly, immediately getting Katsuki’s attention. “I said only watermelon flavor dummy.” Katsuki watched as you pulled a Jolly Rancher out of your shirt. “This isn’t even red, dumbass,” you slurred before throwing the purple piece of candy at Denki’s chest.

“Yeah, dummy,” Mina teased with a smirk. She leaned forward, hunching over to look over your shoulder. You were comfortably situated in between her legs, sitting on the floor in front of her while she sat on the couch. “That’s another cherry, sweetie.”

“Thanks, doll face,” you beamed, blowing her a kiss before tossing the piece into the pile on the coffee table. 

“Here’s another,” Kirishima called out, holding a piece up in the air. Unlike Denki and Mina, Kirishima had mainly kept to himself. He was sprawled out on the loveseat, legs hanging over the armrest. It was comfortable, but he’d be lying if he said part of him didn’t want to be closer to Mina and Denki, helping you stuff the candies into your bra. You were cute; there was no denying that, nor was there any denying that he had the biggest crush on you in high school. But you were dating Katsuki now, and no amount of drinks could make him forget that.

Katsuki watched as Mina and Denki drunkenly scrambled to grab the piece from Kirishima. It was like watching an intense tug of war match between toddlers. His eyes wandered away from them, taking in the empty bottles and candy strewn across the room. 

“Got it,” Mina shouted with a wide grin, grabbing Katsuki’s attention once again. She sat back down on the couch, allowing you to settle between her legs once again. She stuck her tongue out at Denki like a child before focusing on you. Giggles spilled from her mouth, fueled on by your giggles as she reached in your shirt and tucked the piece of candy into your already full bra. 

“Touch her boobs again, and you’re dead raccoon eyes,” Katsuki snapped as she pulled her hand out of your shirt. He let out a huff of satisfaction as Mina and Denki scrambled away from you. “The same goes for the rest of you!” Despite the vagueness of his words, his eyes bore holes into the side of Denki’s head, who refused to make eye contact.

“Is that my Katsuki baby,” you squealed, scrambling to your feet. You could barely stand, your legs wobbling like jelly as you made your way towards him. “Hi, baby! I missed you tons,” you slurred with a dopey smile on your face. You threw your arms around his neck partially to anchor yourself, but mostly just to hold him close. “I haven’t seen you in forever.” 

Katsuki shook his head with an amused chuckle. There was no doubt you were drunk, and as much as he wanted to be upset, he couldn’t be. You were like a child in a candy store, eyes wide and full of awe as you looked up at him. “Hey princess,” he cooed quietly as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “I’ve missed you too.” His free hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb gently tracing your cheekbone. The way you leaning into his touch brought a loving smile onto his face. “But, I see you’ve been having fun.”

“I would’ve had more if you were here the whole time,” you huffed with a pout. You swore you could feel yourself becoming drunker and drunker from him. His touch. His crimson eyes. His warmth. The sweet burnt caramel smell. Everything about him was intoxicating. He made you drunker than any drink could, and the scariest part was just how addicting he was. You needed your little gremlin more than you needed the air in your lungs. “So pretty,” you muttered under your breath. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, pressing your lips against his. 

The kiss was shorter than you both would’ve liked, feeling more like a tease than anything else. Katsuki was the first to pull back, causing you to whine quietly.

“Taste?” you asked worriedly, reaching up to wipe away the crinkles of disgust on his nose. Katsuki was never much of a drinker for as long as you have known him. The most you’ve ever seen him have was two shots, so he usually ended up being the designated driver between the two of you. Out of all the conversations you’ve had with him about it, you could never figure out which part he hated more--the taste or becoming impaired. “‘M sorry,” you continued without waiting for an answer.

“It’s okay, baby,” Katsuki reassured you, forcing himself to give you another peck on the lips. Out of everything that came from you drinking, this was always his least favorite part. He hated how the alcohol took over until it was all he could taste on your lips. He missed your naturally sweet taste that would get him drunker than any amount of shots he could ever take. Yet he loved how needily affectionate you’d become, showering him with love and compliments--not that he’d ever tell you. “See, no need to apologize,” he cooed, kissing your forehead. 

“I can kiss her for you,” Denki drunkenly shouted, the alcohol providing him a scary amount of courage. The stupid grin on his face quickly vanished as Katsuki glared daggers at him.

“As If,” you quickly cut in before Katsuki could rip him a new one. “Only kisses I wan’ are from my honey bunches of oats right ‘ere.” You smiled up at him, “right, baby?” You weren’t sure what exactly you were asking about—everything you just said barely processing in your head.

“Good answer, sweetheart.” He leaned in to reward you with a kiss but stopped short at the squeak that sounded from you.

You pressed your finger against his lips, stopping him from coming any closer. “Hol’ on.” You dug around in your bra and pulled out a Jolly Rancher, promptly popping it into your mouth. “Ta-da! Now I’ll taste yummy,” you slurred with a giggle as you sucked on the hard candy.

Katsuki chuckled proudly, hooking his finger under your chin, “you always taste yummy to me.” He pressed his lips against yours, gentle at first but growing increasingly possessive once he notices Denki stealing glances your way. He teasingly sucked on your lower lip, eliciting a soft moan from you. Katsuki took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, caressing your tongue with his until he grabbed ahold of the candy in your mouth, taking it for himself. Despite the hunger in the kiss, when he pulled away, all you could make out in his crimson eyes were complete adoration. “Now, let’s get you home, yeah?” 

You cupped your hand around your mouth and drunkenly whispered, “can we fuck when we get home?” 

“Some other time,” he gently kissed your lips once more, “you need water and rest.”

“Cuddles?” You asked with a pout.

“Sure, sweetheart-.”

“And head?”

“Y/n…”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you squealed before throwing your arms around his neck. “Bye, guys! Katsuki and I are gonna fuck!”

“No, we aren’t.”

“Denki, I’ll call if we don’t!”

Katsuki growled as he wrapped a protective arm around your waist, “like hell, you will!” His hand holding your waist began to flicker as sparks were being created like little poopers. “You’re mine! I’ll kill-,” Katsuki shouted. 

“I’m kiddin’,” you giggle, giving his cheek a peck. “Totally kiddin’ dummy. Y’know I’d only call cutie pie Kiri.” You could feel Kirishima snap his head towards you, his eyes boring into your side. With a shrug, you ignore Katsuki’s shocked look, “he’s cute and sweet. Oh, and easy to make hard!”

“Shut the hell up,” Katsuki snapped as he angrily put his jacket on you. 

“Cause his quirk,” you continued.

“I said shut it!”

“He’s like my dream boyfriend, and you’re my dream husband, y’know.”

“Another damn word, and you won’t get cuddles.”

You gasped, bouncing on the balls of your feet a few times before losing balance and falling into Katsuki’s chest. “Cuddles and fries?”

“No. I’ll see you guys later,” Katsuki called out over his shoulder as he ushered you to the door. 

“Kiri woulda said yes,” you shrugged as you followed him out into the cold. You clung to his arm for dear life, trying to keep him warm and help yourself stand upright. 

“I’m going to blow you to bits if you don’t shut up.”

“Nah, uh, you love me too much.”

“I swear I’m gonna murder you.”

“With love?”

“No.” 

“Rude! My husband Katsuki wouldn’t treat me like this. He’d give me all the cuddles and fries I wan’.” 

“Sure he would,” he huffed as he opened the car door for you. His cheeked grew warm at your new name for him.

“He would! Cause I love ‘im fuck tons and he loves me-,” you gasped, just now realizing the thin white sheet on the ground. “It’s snowing!”

“Y/n, if you don’t get your ass in the car,” Katsuki groaned. “It’s snowing, it’s cold, and I have to drive home to give you cuddles and fries. So, please.” 

“Okay, hubby,” you smiled sleepily, complying almost instantly and earning a chuckle from him. Your eyes followed him as he leaned over you, buckling you in before handing you the bottle of water from the cup holder. “Y’know, I think you’re cuter than Kiri, and I love ya a lot more.”

Katsuki didn’t reply to you; instead, he closed your door and walked around to the driver’s side. He had buckled in and already began driving before he placed his hand over yours, “I love you too, little dumbass.”

“Your dumbass?” You asked as you took a sip of water.

“My beautiful, drunk, dumbass wifey,” he confirmed with a teasing smirk. 

[malloryslourd]

So Much Better

Pairing(s): Mother!Misty Day x Reader, Mother!Cordelia Goode x Reader, Platonic!Zoe Benson x Reader, Platonic!Madison Montgomery x reader

Warnings: Alcohol Use, Smoking, Strong Language

Words: 3,560

—————

A/N: the end of this is so rushed... ANYWAYS😐

—————

"This party kinda sucks," Y/N knew she was yelling, but there was no other way to make sure Madison could hear her. Three hours ago her, Madison, and Zoe had claimed they were heading up stairs to go to sleep after dinner. In reality they were waiting for the household to settle so they could make their "grand" getaway out of Madison's room and to a party they had been invited to a week prior. There was no use in asking for permission to go, the answer was always no so they decided to answer the question themselves.

Madison looked at Y/N, almost offended at what she said. "The party is fine, you suck," she wrapped an arm around the witch's waist, pulling her out of the way of someone passing behind her. Y/N stepped back, pushing the arm off of her and grabbing the drink from Madison's hand. "There you go! That should make things a little more fun!" the blonde teased as she watch her finish what was left in the cup. Zoe had set out to get them all something new to drink so she wasn't as mad as she usually would've been.

Y/N nodded, slightly crushing the cup in her hand. "Hopefully... I'm starting to be over it already." The music was too loud to even understand what they were playing, there had been at least three fights within the past hour, and Zoe had been gone for a lot more than "just a minute" like she had promised. She would've had more fun actually studying or once she drunk something strong enough to fill a few of her senses.

As if God himself heard her thoughts, an arm stretched over her shoulder with a plastic cup almost too full to handle without a spill. "Take it before someone steals it," Zoe's words weren't any softer than Y/N's or Madi's. She handed the other cup to Madison, full just about the same amount but obviously falling victim to a few small spills. The girls took the cups, smelling of much stronger alcohol than what they had previously.

Zoe pressed up against Y/N's back, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Thank you ma'am," Y/N took a sip of the drink. She could feel the hangover building from the one cup alone.

"See, already so much better."

—

"Hurry the fuck up!" Madison pulled Y/N behind her as she pushed pass people on the stairs. The drunken pair was laughing obnoxiously, tripping over their own feet as they tried to squeeze their way through groups of people who were somehow more drunk than them. Madison tried to open a door, failing on her first attempt and additionally giving herself a bruise to wake up to. She tried again, successfully turning the knob this time.

They were over taken with drunken laughter as they sat on the bed, Y/N falling back to look up at the ceiling. Madison took a hit of the vape she had convinced some guy to sell her for lower than half the price he was offering to everyone else at the party. She waved the device in front of Y/N's face, holding it in front of her lips when she nodded her head quickly. Y/N leaned forward, placing her hand on Madi's to hold it steady while she took her hit.

They laughed when Y/N blew the smoke back in her face. Madison laid back to lie down next to her. "Good thing Momma Delia doesn't know, she would have a fucking fit," Madison looked out of the corner of her eye to a now slightly pissed off Y/N. It was amusing to her just how quick she could make the witch's mood change. "Or maybe even Misty for that matter." She made herself laugh- Y/N, not finding it as funny as she did.

"If she knew this was your idea, let alone we just so happened to both be here, she would drag your ass again," Y/N rolled her eyes. She grumbled an insult when Madison jabbed her side, returning a softer elbow to her arm. "And Cordelia would just kick me out and call it a day."

"The fuck she would," Madison laughed. She looked at Y/N, chin basically resting on her shoulder. "Why the hell would she throw her pride and joy out to the curb? Me and Zoe would get abandoned before you did." Madison had a theory that Cordelia and Misty would empty the coven of everything but Y/N before they admitted she was at least a little responsible for her less than star-child behavior. In that theory she was the first to go.

"Whatever."

"What are you 'whatever'ing? It's true! Exactly how it fucking works actually."

"They don't hate you if that's what you're trying to say."

Y/N almost said it so low that Madison didn't hear. But she did, and that's what was important. "They do."

"They don't," Y/N looked at Madison, almost upset that's how she thought her mothers thought of her. "You're my friend... I wouldn't let them hate you, but you don't exactly help yourself.."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mo- Cordelia tries... We talked about it once, how you try sometimes to do your best but you always end up, like, doing shit to piss everyone off and start all over again," Y/N took Madison's hand, playing with the rings on her fingers. "Is this mine by the way?"

"Maybe."

"Cunt... Anyways!" Y/N rolled over. "Like, sad shit aside... They don't hate you, no one really does. Well I mean I hate you," she laughed at the way Madison rolled her eyes.

"Fuck you!" Madison took her hands out of Y/N's as she fought back the smile on her face.

"Now that's how you really get kicked out!"

The pair erupted into laughter. Madison took Y/N's hands this time, leaning to kiss her cheek. "That's how I get burned at the stake, don't even." They laid there for a while, laughing at random things the other said, sharing Madi's vape, and complaining about the music they were playing downstairs.

"Get the fuck up, we gotta fucking go."

Madison and Y/N looked over at the door- surprisingly still hanging on its hinges despite how hard it was thrown open. Zoe stood there as pale as a ghost, something the pair had chalked up to cheap booze mixed with even cheaper booze, or maybe even a bad hit from whatever some random was smoking. She rushed over to the pair, grabbing their hands and attempting to pull them up. She was determined, but evidently not enough to get them out of the bed.

Madison pulled her hand back, Zoe almost falling with it. "Okay... chill the fuck out," another puff of smoke traveled up the contours of the witch's face, disappearing into the air and leaving nothing but the smell of a cheap candy flavoring to linger for a moment. She noticed Zoe was red in the face, but couldn't decide if it was too much to drink red or anything a bit more serious.

Zoe had stopped pulling at Y/N's hand but held a firm grasp on it. "Do you think I'm fucking joking? Get your shit Madi," she took the puff out of Madison's hand, tossing it at the wall when she attempted to get it back. "Y/N get the hell up," another useless tug that barely made her move.

Y/N propped herself up with her free hand, tilting her head slightly as she looked at Zoe. She pulled Zoe down to be more level with her. "Why are you so uptight Zo? Like come on, it's a par-"

"-The neighbors called the fucking cops."

The drunken smile on Y/N's face turned into half-sober wide eyes. Madison, who at some point moved to the floor to find the discarded vape, shared the same expression as she looked over her shoulder. The stares lasted only for a few more seconds before they rushed to grab everything they owned in the room. There was no discussion necessary. They needed to leave as soon as they possibly could.

"You could've fucking said that!" Madison struggled to slip on her shoes. She lost her balance more than once, practically falling on top of both Zoe and Y/N at one point. "You were just gonna let us sit here until they walked in?"

Zoe rolled her eyes. "I'm so fucking sorry that I told you we had to leave and you were too busy laying on your ass! But hey, you're so fucking wasted you probably don't even remember!" Madison looked back at her, almost asking her to say something else to give her an excuse to bite back. No matter how good of a mood either of these were in they had always made a point to form some type of argument by the end of the night.

"Where the fuck is my phone? Oh my fucking God." Y/N was panicking, not even focused on the two about to fist fight behind her. She was sure they couldn't even hear her over the below the belt remarks they were making to one another.

"This was all your fucking idea!"

"It was Y/N's!"

"You wanted us to go out!"

"Shut up!"

"What are you even looking for?"

"My keys so we can actually fucking leave! We've got like thirty seconds to get out of here and you're standing there like a dumbass!"

"I'm the dumbass? Okay, says the bitch who probably got three different strands of mono tonight!"

"Both of you shut the fuck up and help me find my phone!" The pair turned their attention to Y/N who was pulling at the covers of the bed.

"I have your phone!" Zoe pulled the phone from her back pocket, holding it in front of her.

Y/N almost fell off the bed, catching herself with her hands moments before she tipped forward. "When the fuck did you get my phone?"

"When I had to talk you out of texting the fucking groupchat!"

"Give it a fucking break! Let's go!" Madison had already been making her way to the door. Zoe and Y/N looked at her then to each other before they followed after her, Y/N pulling Zoe after her as attempted to keep up with Madison.

Suddenly the blonde had stopped when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She looked back at Y/N and Zoe and before either of them could ask a question a police officer had already walked up to Madison.

—

“Do you know who I am?” Madison struggled to take her wrist out of the officer’s hand, scoffing at him as she turned around to look at him.

He sighed, turning her back around. “Quite frankly maam, I do not care who you are. And if you keep giving me trouble you’ll be taking the ride with your hands cuffed behind your back.” With that Madison stopped fighting, easily letting him guide her to the car Y/N and Zoe were already sat.

As soon as he opened the door she was met with two teary eyed witches. Zoe’s head rested against the window of the car, moving only slightly to look at Madison get in. Y/N’s head was rested on Zoe’s shoulder, tears a bit more visible on her face than the brunettes. “They’re gonna fucking kill us.”

Never did the thought of ending up in the back of a police car ever pass through Y/N or Zoe’s mind- Madison was a different story. She knew they were done for when Madison made a big deal of announcing their names to the police officer like it would make any difference in the outcome of the night. From that point forward she knew the next obstacle was her mothers. And that was going to be the biggest obstacle of the night.

—

The front door slammed hard enough to wake up the entire neighborhood. Y/N, Zoe, and Madison looked up at one another, each looking as if they had been to Hell and back in the span of the last few hours. Zoe's mascara had met at her chin and continued down her neck. She didn't have the perfect behavior, but she was yet to get caught so she was in a deep state of overthinking every decision in her life that had led up to this moment. On the other hand, Madison was conditioned to this already. She knew all the lines about disappointment and responsibility, but she had only seemed to look upset when she saw Y/N and Zoe.

Y/N had returned to stare off into the distance, hoping that possibly this was a really bad dream or even a trip from some secondhand smoke cloud she had walked through earlier that night. She didn't even have the energy to cry anymore, that was over with after the first turn in the direction of the police station. The silence of the car ride back to the academy was almost enough to make her start crying again, but she found herself paying attention to every small detail she could.

Cordelia's extremely white knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel as she broke every speed limit by at least 10 over. Zoe clicking her nails against each other as she readjusted in her seat every other second. Misty holding onto the handle above the passenger door almost as a way to fight back the urge to turn around and let the three of them hear every word she had built up on the way over. Even the slight sticky feeling that Madison's lipgloss had left on her cheek during their heart to heart in that strangers bed.

She was snapped out of her recollection of the night when Cordelia and Misty walked into the dining room where they were sat. Misty was red in the face, she hadn't said a word since the girls got into the car. Madison had sworn she was just a sitting statue in the passenger seat for most of the ride. Cordelia on the other hand had plenty to say when she first saw the girls. "Get in the car," the first words uttered. "What the hell were you three thinking? Are you all fucking idiots?" as they pulled out of the parking lot. "Out of all the things you could've done this what you decide to get caught up in!" just as they pulled up to the house.

As soon as Cordelia parked the car they had hurried inside, just barely hearing her say to wait in the dining room. Even then they couldn't say anything to one another. That's where they were left now, dizzy and tired as they waited for anyone to say anything. Misty took a seat across from the girls, Cordelia pacing behind her.

"We-"

"Don't fucking talk!" the girls shrunk at Cordelia's words, shocked at a harshness they were unfamiliar with. She hadn't stopped pacing, arms crossed firmly in front of her. "I don't want to hear any of you talk, not a single fucking word. Oh my God, how fucking stupid can you be!" Cordelia paused for just a moment. She had been thinking about this almost the entire ride over, yet couldn't find the words to say what she wanted to say. "Anything could have happened tonight and we didn't know where you were, and I sure as Hell hope you weren't stupid enough to get anyone else tangled in this!"

Y/N looked at Zoe, who was staring at her lap, then to Madison, who was staring up at Cordelia. She couldn't help but notice the dramatic difference in how they were taking it. She looked over at her mothers, Cordelia pacing again, Misty staring straight at her. She followed Zoe and fixed her gaze on her own lap.

"It was my idea." Focus in the room switched to Madison. She leaned back in her charge and let out a long breath. Weighing her options, it made the most sense for her to take the fall or this. It was in character for her. "I asked them to-"

"Madi," Y/N cut her off quickly. “It was me... I mean... Fuck,” she ran a hand over her face, hands slightly shaking as she did so. “They were my friends who invited me, I asked Zoe and Madison to go. Going to the party was my idea.” It wasn’t right in her mind to let Madison go down for this just ‘cause. It was her friend’s party. It was her idea to go out tonight. It was her who asked them to go with.

Shock took over Misty’s and Cordelia’s expressions. Cordelia stopped pacing, head turned to look at her daughter. Misty shook her head, “You don’t have to lie for her.”

Madison’s mouth fell agape. Y/N furrowed her brow. “I’m not,” she stated at Misty who obviously thought she had the whole situation figured out beforehand, but was now struggling to understand what was actually happening.

Cordelia leaned onto the table next Misty, staring just as hard at Y/N as Misty was. “Zoe, Madison, go to your rooms,” her gaze didn’t leave Y/N’s as she took the seat next to Misty. Zoe and Madison shared a brief look with one another before they hurried out room, afraid Cordelia might change her mind.

“Really?” Misty’s question was laced with venom, a look of utter disbelief sealing her tone.

Y/N nodded, wringing her hands in her lap. “I know,” she was soft spoken. “They don’t deser-“

“-Quite frankly, I don’t really want to talk about those two,” Cordelia held up her hand. She was biting back her tone, afraid if she was too loud she would wake everyone else from their sleep. “This all comes down on you.” It almost hurt her to admit.

Misty sat back in her chair, barely diverting her gaze. “Madison, I expect this from. You and Zoe? Never in a million years,” she spoke so calmly Y/N could feel chills travel up her spine. Misty’s anger was unlike Cordelia’s. Cordelia was simply just an angry Cordelia who would let a few more words slip than usual. Misty was a different person. Her smile faded, she offered no kind words, and she was willing to get years worth of tension and anger off of her chest in mere minutes if she so pleased. “I don’t think you understand what could’ve happened tonight.”

“God knows what type of trouble you three could have gotten in while we were here.”

“Trouble might’ve done you some good, especially if you think any of this is acceptable.”

Y/N nodded her head. The tears she was deprived of since the ride in the back of the police car were fighting to be released by now. “I’m sorry.”

“Save it,” Misty shook her head. Even Cordelia was a little shocked to hear her, possibly because she had never talked to Y/N like this. “We raised you so much better than this. It’s disrespectful!” her voice rose with her temper. “You would think you would have no reason to act out like this! But no, lets end up in the back of a fucking police car by the end of the night!”

Y/N couldn’t find anything to say, she was at a lost for words looking at her mother. She couldn’t remember the last time she had raised her voice at her. Every apology she could think about was stuck in her throat. They wouldn’t have much effect anyways.

“You’re better than this Y/N,” Cordelia spoke softer than Misty, but no less stern.

“You’re damn right she is.”

A sigh left the Supreme’s lips. She was tired, eyes heavy and barely put together enough to even look like herself. “It’s disappointing to us to know you’re better than this and for you to still go out and do something like this,” her volume rose slightly, obviously able to handle her temper much more than Misty. As much as she knew what she did was wrong, Cordelia couldn’t deny that this was her baby. She had felt more disappointment in herself than she did her.

Misty stood, face red and knuckles whitened from how hard she was clenching her fist. “You’ll think of some way to apologize for this, possib- hopefully,” she held on to the back of the chair, looking down at Y/N. “Whatever the hell this is,” she waved her hand around, “I want it fucking fixed and nothing short of fixed. The day any fucking child of mind tries to pull that shit is a horrible fucking day for this coven.” And with that she pushed the chair against the table and turned to leave, muttering unseeing her breath about “how unbelievable” this all was.

Y/N watched as she walked out of dining room, Cordelia following right after with no less speed. She could feel the anger in the room dissipate, but every word her mothers shared with her were still there as if they were being repeated right in front of her face once again.

[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 22

Word Count: 2,440

POV: Sidney’s

Warngings: Language

Notes: So it’s been a hot minute for this story. Sorry about that guys, but thank you for being patient with me. As always love your feedback and Happy Reading!

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

You couldn't believe that (Y/N) just wanted to up and go to Pittsburgh without even thinking about telling you. Well, she actually did tell you; it's just she'd made all the plans without giving any thoughts about what you wanted, and that's what aggravated you the most. She could've at least wanted you to drive her to the airport, but no, she'd simply called your sister to have her do it instead. It was going to be almost a month before you were able to see her and that just wasn't acceptable.

You were driving around in your car, not knowing where you were going until you landed at Nate's house. It was probably for the best that you didn't head to your parents, for they would probably take (Y/N)'s side. Nate was at the door before you could even ring the bell. "Hey man, what's up?"

 "Can I stay here tonight?"

 "Uh, sure." He stepped aside so that you could enter. "You and (Y/N) have a fight?"

 "Something like that."

 "Anything you want to talk about?"

 "Not really." Nate just sort of gave you a look. He didn't ask you anything more about (Y/N) the rest of the night which you appreciated. Instead, the two of you just ordered food and played video games, like you were twelve-years-old and not professional athletes. It was a nice change of pace but as you laid in Nate's guest bed tossing and turning you were regretting not being with (Y/N). Maybe she would have a change of heart and end up staying. That was doubtful, considering they needed her at the house, and she took her job very seriously. There was always the off chance that she would fly there then fly back. That option seemed more realistic and the one that you hoped would happen as you laid there staring up at the ceiling.

 Eventually, you were able to fall asleep, but it seemed like hours before that actually happened. You headed off to train with Nate in the morning like you usually did. As the two of you were warming up, he broached the subject again. "So ready to talk about what happened yet?"

 "It's stupid really. They need (Y/N) back in Pittsburgh. I told her that I wanted to go with her and she said no because we were in the middle of training here."

 Nate just waited for you to say more, but you didn't. "And you're mad about that because?"

 "Well, she could fly back after she takes care of things, but she's not. She's just going to stay in Pittsburgh for the next month while I stay up here."

 "Isn't it more like three weeks?"

 "God, you sound like her now." (Y/N) had argued the same point last night. "I mean I suppose if you want to get technical about it, it's three weeks and a day."

 "Weren't you already cutting training short to go back with (Y/N) though? Like I thought you'd at least be here another week or so."

 "Maybe, but she didn't need to know that."

 You could see Nate thinking things through, at least he was finally understanding your side of the story. "So, let me get this straight. You left your house mad because your girlfriend has to go back to work and she wants you to stay here so that you're ready for the season?" When he put it like that, it didn't sound the way it had in your head, so instead of answering you just nodded. "And she's flying back when?"

 "Today."

 "Now wait, maybe I'm confused again," he said giving you a dumbfounded look. "But you're clearly upset because you won't be spending time together, right?" Again, you nodded. "So, instead of spending your last night with her, showing her all the things she's going to be missing in the next couple weeks you spent them at my house, eating pizza and playing call of duty?"

 God, you were an idiot. Nate was right, you should've spent the night with (Y/N) giving her a reason to want to fly back here, or at least let you fly back to Pittsburgh early. "Fuck, I'm stupid."

 "Yeah, you are."

 You side-eyed Nate, but you knew he wasn't going to let it slide. Checking your watch, you noticed you had about an hour until her she'd have to leave for her flight. You could run home real quick, tell her your sorry, and maybe show her what she would be missing. "I'll be back in an hour." Nate just winked at you and laughed, and you vaguely heard him say something like 'Go get her buddy.' But you weren't one hundred percent sure.

 Luckily, where you and Nate trained was only a ten-minute drive from your house and you made it there in record time. You rushed inside the door, not even sure if you left the car running or not. "(Y/N)!" you yelled as you looked around for her bags. You'd thought they'd be by the door waiting for Taylor. "(Y/N)!" Running upstairs, you opened the bedroom door, to find the bed neatly made. You threw open the closet doors, checking to see if she'd left anything in there. She hadn't. Her side was completely bare, except for the hangers which were empty. Your heart started to sink. Maybe Taylor had just picked her up early and you could get her to turn around. You dialed her number, but it went straight to voicemail, so you tried Taylor instead.

 "Hey Sid," she said and you noticed she had a very cool tone with you.

 "Tay, is (Y/N) with you? You're not too close to the airport yet, are you? I mean there's still time to turn back around."

 "Sid, (Y/N)'s not with me. She took an earlier flight when someone," Taylor paused and you knew that she was pissed at you as well. "Decided to not come home last night. She didn't even let me take her, just called an Uber to drive her. I don't know what the hell happened between you two, but you fucked up big time brother."

 "I know that, why do you think I hauled ass home." You blew out a frustrated breath that she was already on her way to Pittsburgh. "Now what do I do?" You kept going before Taylor could even say a word. "Normally, I'd just jump on a plane and try and make things better, but I have a feeling that's the last thing (Y/N) wants me to do, but I can't just do nothing, you know?"

 "I repeat, you fucked up big time."

 "Thanks, you're so much help."

 "Look, you're stuck between a rock and a hard place. All I know is that you better fix it, because (Y/N) is the best thing that's happened to you besides hockey."

 "I know that." Taylor scoffed at your response. "Ok, so I might have had a lapse in judgment last night." And now you were regretting it, but you had no idea what to do.

 "I think it's safe to say, you better give her some time to cool off. I'm sure she's heading over to the house to get things straightened out as soon as she lands. Just call her tonight and…well grovel."

 It wasn't the best plan in the world, but what else could you do. "Thanks, sis, I'll definitely do that." The two of you said your goodbyes and then you made a quick call to your florist in Pittsburgh to have flowers delivered to (Y/N) as a peace offering. Only after that did you head back to the training facility. You threw yourself into the workout, trying to forget that (Y/N) was now in Pittsburgh and that you wouldn't see her when you got home tonight or any other night for the next couple of weeks. It was frustrating, but as Nate tried to remind you later on in the day, that was the way most relationships were. The fact that (Y/N)'s job with the organization let you see her every day was a bonus; a luxury that most players didn't have.

 It was around seven in the evening that you walked into the empty house. You'd picked up something for dinner on the way home and sat in the living room eating with Sammy watching, while you debated on what to say to (Y/N) when you called. You worried that she wouldn't answer the phone and that she'd send you straight to voicemail, so whatever you said had to be good enough to get her to call you back.

 It was something you didn't have to worry about, as she answered on the second ring. "Hey, Sid." She wasn't her usual jovial self, but she didn't seem extremely angry either. In all honesty, you couldn't really read her tone.

 "Hey (Y/N)." There was a pause as your mind went completely blank. "I'm sorry." It wasn't the fancy apology you had planned but it was heartfelt.

 "I'm sorry too, Sid." You really didn't know what she had to be sorry about. "I should've called you the minute I knew I had to come back to Pittsburgh." Before you could say anything, she continued. "And I should've let you drive me to the airport."

 When she finally took a breath, you jumped in. "No, you have nothing to be sorry for. You were just doing your job, and I…well, I was acting like a brat." She laughed then, and you would've given anything at that moment to see her smile. Why you hadn't facetimed her, you weren't sure at this moment, other than you were a coward. "I should've never stormed out of the house like that and not come back, that was completely juvenile of me."

 "It was, I won't argue that. I wish you would've stayed so we could work things out."

 "I promise that it won't happen again." Though you didn't plan on fighting with her again either. "I really am sorry (Y/N). Can you forgive me?"

 "Always." And just like that the world seemed right again, only you couldn't kiss her or hold like you wanted to, but you would definitely make up for that in a few weeks.

 "So, how's Pittsburgh? Is the roof still on my house?"

 "Pittsburgh is good, and I'm assuming your house is fine or someone would've called."

 "Aren't you there now?"

 "Um no, I'm at my place. Why would I go to your place if you're not there?"

 "Why wouldn't you?"

 "Because that's your house and I have one of my own." You could hear the irritation in her voice and knew you were headed down a slippery slope but you went anyways.

 "We've been living together for months now, so why wouldn't I think that that would continue."

 "Maybe because you never asked me to move in with you."

 "I didn't think I had to." As soon as the words were out of your mouth you wanted to take them back. They felt wrong, even to your own ears, and now you knew why you hadn't facetimed her, it was so that she couldn't see you wince when you fucked upped like you just did. "I didn't…"

 She was about to say something when you heard a man in the background yell. 'Hey (Y/N), the food's here.'

 "Who the hell is that?" She'd literally been gone for less than twenty-four hours and she already had a guy over at her house. You were livid. How could she do that to you? "We had one fight and you're already fucking someone else?"

 "Are you fucking kidding me right now Sidney? Did you really just say that?" She was yelling but then so were you. "You're un-fucking-believable you know that. I would never in a million years do that." Somewhere deep down you knew she was right, but at that moment you were too angry to see it. "For your information, I ran into Cully at the airport, and since Bridget and the kids are still in Minnesota, I invited him over to grab some take out. If you don't believe me you can call and ask him."

 Fuck, you knew Matt had been planning on going back to Pittsburgh early; you'd talked to him on the phone about it the other day. Now you felt like a complete ass. "(Y/N), I'm sorry…"

 "Save it, Sid. I don't want to hear it. Goodbye." She hung up the phone then, you could imagine her slamming it down if it actually been a regular one and not her cell. You pulled her number back up and called her back hoping to apologize. It went straight to voicemail.

 On the third attempt, you decided to leave a message. "(Y/N), I'm so incredibly sorry. Of course, I didn't think that you were sleeping around. Jesus, I don't know what's gotten into me. I sorry. I'm just so fucking sorry, babe. Please pick up the phone." You hung up, planning on waiting five minutes before calling her back, only you made it two. She still didn't pick up. Your only option was to try and call Cullen. He actually did answer.

 "Look Sid, I know you want to talk to her, but it's not a good idea right now."

 "Please, I just need to tell her how sorry I am. I fucked up man and I need to make it right."

 There was a pause on the line and you hoped that Matt was somehow convincing her to get on and talk to you. "She doesn't want to talk to you right now, Sid, and for the record, nothing is going on with the two of us."

 "Jesus, I know that. I just…fuck." If you could only talk to her. Make her see that you were just being a jealous idiot, that you loved her so damn much you couldn't see straight.

 "Just give her some time. I'm sure she'll come around," Matt told you. "And not like five minutes ok. Like some real time. I've been in your shoes before. She'll forgive you."

 "God, I hope so." You really, really hoped so, because there was no way in hell you could lose her over something like this. "Tell her I'm sorry."

 "I will."

 Matt went to hang up but you stopped him. "Wait…tell her I love her too."

 "Will do man." With that, Matt hung up the phone, while yours dropped to the floor, as you put your head in your hands. You'd really fucked it up time this time, and if she took you back it'd be a  miracle.

[boognish-worshipper]

Remember the Rain

praying this is the final part of “Sunrise, Sunset” by the time i’m done omg ,, lamar finally talks it out with frank. i was tryna keep the titles consistent with a sky theme? wasn’t sure what to name this one at first, but i settled on naming it after a i song that i felt was sorta fitting lol ,, also lamar’s dramatic when drunk, that’s jus how it’s gonna be

oh and i included one last convo w/ that psychic lady bc each character got three opportunities to speak to her lol

//

The night Franklin and him fought was the third night in a row Lamar couldn’t sleep right. Then it became four. Then five. Six. He had hoped after the first couple days of Franklin being mad, that it’d all blow over and things would go back to normal. That he wouldn’t ever have to say anything about what he felt deep down. Even though he told himself he had to, he wouldn’t. He waited it out, and still hoped it would all just fucking blow over. That wasn’t what happened of course.

An overcast sky was spread over LS, light rain tapping against Lamar’s window. As cheesy as it was, it reflected how he felt. Another day had passed. Franklin wasn’t picking up, not even reading his texts, nothing. He called a couple times at first when the fourth day of the silent treatment occurred, then tried a few more times to contact him in the following days. It had grown into a long and sad string of texts.

franklin.

dog

plz

pick up

answer me

plz?

c’mon frank i told you i have nothin goin on with yo auntie

i wanna talk things out with you.

u ain’t let me finish explaining

text me when u read this. plz bro

He sighed. This was hopeless. He set his phone aside, still laying awake. A buzz came right after. Fucking finally, something.

fuck you

we got nothin to discuss

He didn’t know how to feel. This was fucking him up and he couldn’t think straight. He tried calling him once more, the ringing as he waited for a pick up mocking him. Voicemail yet again. How many messages had he tried leaving at this point?

for fucks sake frank pick up

u ain’t doin this to me rn

jus let me explain myself

He stared at the ceiling yet again, like it would have all the answers sprawled out for him. As he did, he focused on how the rain had picked up, coming down harder. Then he felt his phone buzz.

no

now stop blowing my phone up

i’m tryna sleep

Lamar was never one to be sensitive, but he felt so crushed right now that all he could do was cry silently to himself. He didn’t even have Chop around anymore to comfort him like he normally would whenever Lamar was going through something. Would he even see him again? He lived over at Frank’s now. Fuck. Did this mean they’d have to share custody now? If he wasn’t so upset, he most likely would’ve laughed at the idea of it. He was letting bad thoughts consume him, turning to a last minute resort of drinking to try stopping it. This kind of thing rarely happened to him, these kind of feelings weren’t common. He knew no other method of trying to stuff bad feelings down, working through a 6 pack of beer on his own, followed by a bottle of some type of random liquor. Anything to stifle the pain in his chest, although it didn’t accomplish much other than making him feel even more queasy. He left one last voicemail, choking back a sob. Or what he had thought would be the last one. He lost count.

“Franklin. Please jus’ talk to me already man. You- you believin’ what you wanna believe right now, you ain’t even givin’ me a chance. You my best fuckin’ friend, don’t that mean shit to you anymore? We.. homies n shit.” He sniffled, cringing to himself when he said the words “best friend”. Franklin was so much more than that to him.

“Ion… Ion think I can live without you in my life. You can’t hate me man that shit.. that’s fucked. This is fucked. I’m fucked.”

A strong feeling of humiliation hung around him for many reasons, one being that he was fully crying now, over the phone. He couldn’t get any lower.

“You jus’ mad right now. But you.. you won’t be, eventually. Right? Please get back to me soon. Please. I’d rather fuckin’.. die or sum’ than have you hatin’ me n shit. At this point I might as well.”

After hanging up, he decided to visit that site one last time. His tears blurred his vision, making it harder to type. The shit in his system didn’t help either.

lady

i fuckef up

thsi is yo faukt

What now? Why are you back?

frankljn hates me

He does? That’s not right.

damn straighy it fuckign isnt

No, I mean that’s not correct.

There’s no way that he could, even if it seems like it right now.

jus fuckin tell me whst to do

That’s out of my hands.

is not u fuckin wirch

*withc

*witch

Look, I really don’t know how else to help you. I don’t have any other visions to offer. You’re on your own.

They do say though, that dreams are visions themselves.

dont fukcin speak in riddles rn

Precognition, Lamar. Just have faith

prewhatnow

n yeah. faith. bc that helps so fuckn much

All I can say to you is good luck - it’s all coming together. Just wait.

th fuck does that mean?

It means that you’re stressing too much - you better sleep it off. Farewell Lamar. You’re gonna have a killer hangover you know…

SERVICE UNAVAILABLE. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.

The notification did nothing but make him more upset. He calmed down eventually, the crying and alcohol tiring him out. He blacked out soon after, not remembering when he fell asleep.

For the first time in a while, he dreamt about the two of them. The start of the dream showed a radiant sight before them, the sky lit up in a million shades. Chop was laying beside Franklin, head on his thigh. All three of them sat on a grassy knoll, a soft breeze blowing through each blade. Franklin turned, Lamar not taking his eyes off him since the dream started. He only noticed the sky’s wide color palette because the intensity struck Franklin’s face just right. He looked right into Lamar’s eyes, speaking softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“What?”

“You had so many opportunities. So many times, I thought that you would. I got my hopes up, you know. I waited. When Tanisha left.. I only had you.”

“Tanisha..”

“I still love her. I.. I think apart of me always will, but I love you just the same. Even if you drive me up a Goddamn wall sometimes. You both mean the world to me.”

Franklin looked back at the view ahead. A heavenly indigo replaced the vivid hues from before.

“But she’s gone now. Shit ain’t the same. All I know is you stayed when she didn’t. Even when she got pulled outta the hood and made some kinda new life for herself, you never left my side. Never changed yo loyalties.”

He turned back to face Lamar again. His eyes were glassy, the glow of the midnight sky reflecting in them.

“So why didn’t you say somethin’ sooner?”

“Franklin.. I ain’t deduce that shit ‘til now.“

“You really didn’t know?”

Even in the dream he could feel that previous frustration occur in his mind. Was he hiding in a glass closet or something? He could only let out a wry laugh.

“Yeah man. I was a fuckin’ fool, jus’ like you always said.”

“Damn straight.” He chuckled, and Lamar came to the conclusion that he could listen to that laugh forever. Franklin’s face then fell solemn.

“Y’know I really thought that.. I really thought that you jus’ got with someone else. Not even jus’ my Aunt. I saw how you wanted to get away from me, and I thought…” He stopped himself, petting Chop’s head.

“I.. wanted to be happy if you was, but the thought of that at all bothered me.”

“Why?”

“Cuz you were all I had, dog. Mike n Trevor, they have their own lives, their own history n shit. I can’t always rely on them. Denise don’t give a fuck what happen to me. You my lifeline dog, I’ve known you for years. I didn’t want you to forget me over a chick or sum’. That day you acted all different n shit, it worried me.”

“Hey man, y’know I ain’t ever gon pull that shit on you. I’m with you for life.”

“Then don’t pull other kinda stupid shit on me.”

“Whatchu mean?”

“You can’t ever die on me bro. That ain’t how this shit works.”

“Ay man, I don’t plan on dying jus’ yet. Not unless yo ass by my side. Not ‘til I tell you I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Franklin got closer to his face, cupping his cheek. His eyes shone as the stars around them fell from the sky, akin to raindrops, hitting them. Everything about him was flooding Lamar’s senses, and it felt surreal, between his aroma and all the other things he loved about Franklin. Golden flecks covered them both, and the stars continued to crash down. The sky was growing darker than before.

“Just say the words Lamar. Say them and this shit’ll be over.”

“How?”

“Well first you need to wake yo ass up.”

“Huh?”

“I said wake up, fool!”

Lamar’s blissful dream had been interrupted by an unknown figure shaking him, literal raindrops hitting his face. He was still bleary eyed, only seeing a vague silhouette in front of him. A wet slap to the face rattled his brain around, the hangover settling in. Shit, was he still drunk? What time was it?

“Lamar! Get up!”

“Oh.. Th’fuck? Who- who that is?” He grunted out.

“It’s me you fuckin’ clown!”

“Frank?”

“Who the fuck else?”

“Why are you-”

He was abruptly yanked out of bed, thudding to the floor with a small “oof”.

“Get up you punk bitch!”

“Franklin what the fuck-”

He was grabbed again, tossed back onto his bed. Franklin straddled him, shaking Lamar by the collar.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He said, Lamar getting another slap to the face.

“What in the fresh fuck is you talkin’-” Another slap.

“15 fuckin’ missed phone calls! 15! Are you fuckin’ nuts?!”

Lamar’s eyes practically popped out of his head. 15? What the fuck did he say to him?

“I did what-”

Franklin shook him even harder by his shirt, stretching the material out. He was straining his voice now.

“You had me worried like fuckin’ crazy! I thought you was in some sorta fuckin’ trouble again! You blew my phone up when I told yo ass not to, and then didn’t fuckin’ pick up after I heard the first couple special messages you left me!”

Oh God. This was it. He told Franklin everything, didn’t he? The color drained from his face.

“Oh fuck me..” He mumbled, putting a hand over his eyes.

“What?!” Franklin yelled, shaking him again. Lamar’s head was pounding.

“Franklin.. what.. what I say on there? I barely remember a thing, let alone callin’ yo ass.”

“You seriously don’t fuckin’ remember?!”

“Yeah. Seriously, man.”

Franklin slid off of him, putting a palm to his face. He breathed through his nose hard, trying to calm down. Lamar realized he was drenched from the small downpour outside. Pellets of rain thumped against the window as a reminder that the storm never went away.

“You.. fuck, man. You started sayin’ all this shit about how bad a fuckin’ friend you was. That you, you was hidin’ all this shit and couldn’t live another day without tellin’ me.”

Okay. Good. He didn’t tell him the truth.

“You told me you wanted to die dog. Didn’t realize yo dumbass was safe n sound asleep in yo fuckin’ bed.”

“Oh.”

“…’Oh’? Is that really all you have to say?!”

“F, I was jus’ drunk. It was dumb of me, I know, but I.. It’s nothing, okay?”

“Don’t do this shit to me man! I’ve already dealt with enough of yo fuckin’ schemes n shit-”

“Frank.”

“It’s 3 am! You had Chop barkin’ his Goddamn head off the whole night!”

“Franklin.”

“Then I race my ass over here to find yo drunkass self passed out in bed-”

“Franklin.”

“What! What?! You finally gonna put yo two cents in for once?”

“Stop yelling. My head hurts like a bitch right now.”

“Good! I’m fuckin’ glad because I know mine does as well you fuckin’ asshole!”

Lamar looked pathetically up at him. This was getting out of hand. He let it go on for too long.

“Why did you come here then?” He croaked.

“Because you were fuckin’ sobbin’ into the phone! All I heard was you cryin’ like mad fuckin’ crazy and it scared me. You don’t ever do that shit, not even when you fucked up.”

“How much I say?”

“I got the first message pretty fuckin’ clear, the rest was jus’ incoherent bullshit. I barely got through the second one before speedin’ on over. You sounded hurt n shit, I thought something happened. I thought you was a goner.”

“No weird shit though right? I ain’t say nothin’ bad?”

“What? Lamar, what the fuck are you on about? I just told you what yo ass cried out to me! I couldn’t even understand any of the other messages!”

“Okay, okay. That’s.. good I guess.”

“That’s good? Fuckin’ hell, why did I come here? You- ugh!”

“Franklin. Can you jus’ sit down before you pop a fuckin’ blood vessel? You stressin’ for nothin’.”

If anything, Lamar should be the one stressing right now. He had been so close to confessing without knowing. Franklin sat next to him, arms crossed.

“Franklin.”

“What.”

“I’m sorry that I scared you. I didn’t mean to.”

“Well good fuckin’ job, you accomplished that real well didn’t you.” He said, sarcastically applauding him.

“I thought you were cutting me off for good homie. You think I was gon’ let that happen?”

“Lamar, that still ain’t a good reason to freak me out like that in the middle of the night.”

“It’s only cuz you hadn’t been listenin’ to me bro. I’ve been wanting to tell you somethin’ so badly lately and I never.. got the chance.”

“Then do pray fuckin’ tell LD, what the fuck is so important that you had to do this shit to me at 3 AM!”

“Franklin man, c’mon-”

“No! Don’t start!”

Franklin stood, heading for the door as he spoke. He stopped in the threshold.

“Tell me what the fuck is goin’ on with you, or I’m leavin’ yo sad ass here to wallow. I mean it L.”

“Don’t be like that. Please man. I want to, but I-”

“Jus’ fuckin’ tell me! Why won’t you tell me?!”

“Frank-”

“I dragged my ass all the way over here for nothin’ didn’t I? You ain’t dead, you ain’t sayin’ shit, you jus’ bein’ so- ugh! Fuck!” He threw his hands up, exiting Lamar’s bedroom.

“I’m done man, fuck this.”

“Franklin wait- don’t go-” He pleaded.

Franklin did nothing but leave him stranded again, thunder rolling far in the distance. Lamar ran after him as he walked out the door, hearing the rain heavily hit the pavement. His mind was racing far ahead of him. Franklin was leaving, he was leaving for good, and he couldn’t. He can’t. That’s not how it’s supposed to work. Franklin can’t do that, he can’t-

His mind had gone so far away, that he didn’t even realize that he had tackled Franklin to the ground. The two of them fell to the ground with a loud splat, followed by sounds of pain.

“Lamar what the fuck?!”

“Don’t go! Fuckin’ hell, I gotta chase yo ass and for what?!”

“Get off me dog!”

“No!” Franklin was pinned beneath him. The raindrops that rolled off of Lamar hit him in the face.

It reminded Lamar of when they were younger, playing football or whatever sport they could outside even as the deluge soaked them both to the bone. The roles had been reversed, with Franklin constantly knocking him down onto the grassy sludge. They got quite an earful from Lamar’s mom as they tracked mud in the house upon returning. It was a memory amongst many that stuck with him like glue. Those memories couldn’t go away. Franklin couldn’t go away.

Tears mixed in with the rain as he yelled out to him.

“You fuckin’ idiot! Why you makin’ this shit so hard for me?! You keep leavin’ before I can even finish!”

Franklin struggled to break free from Lamar’s grip on his wrists, huffing as he looked away.

“Look at me!” Lamar shouted, grabbing his face with a free hand.

“I didn’t wanna fuckin’ tell you like this, but Jesus Christ! For fucks sake you stubborn asshole-”

He was doing it. He bit the fucking bullet.

“You know how we got into that fuckin’ argument last week? When I told you that I was dealin’ with that whole love thing, I wasn’t talkin’ about yo Aunt, a hoe, nobody else! I was talkin’ about you!”

Lamar threw himself off of him, stumbling backwards. Franklin propped himself onto his elbows. He finally said it. He said it, and he was far from finished.

“But you didn’t wanna fuckin’ listen! And now I’ve fucked our friendship over for a second time! All because of you! This whole thing has been drivin’ me fuckin’ insane lately, and I couldn’t do shit about it! I tried so, so hard to avoid this, but nothin’ ever goes my way, huh?! Every time I think a plan of mine’ll work, it doesn’t! You know why?!”

Opening his arms wide, he spoke loud and clear, finishing his rant.

“Lemme remind you: I’m Lamar fuckin’ Davis! The biggest fuckin’ fool, fuckin’ clown, fuckin’ whatever you wanna call me! Lamar Davis, the most naïve bitch on the planet! Fuck me for thinking that this would ever go well!”

Now it was his turn to leave. But he didn’t go back into his house. His legs moved for him, walking in no particular direction. He just needed to get away from Franklin, not caring about how damp his clothes were now. He was shaking, and he didn’t know if it was from the rain or the range of emotions he was flying through.

He could hear a pair of sneakers squishing behind him. Franklin was running, and he was catching up fast.

“Ay Lamar! Get back here!”

Oh fuck. He was chasing after him now. That’s not good. Lamar started running himself, not caring about possibly slipping and falling on his ass. Only a few hours ago, he had told himself he couldn’t be without Franklin. Now all he wanted to do was run away.

“Lamar!”

Fuck fuck fuck.

He wasn’t fast enough. The second time they hit the ground, Lamar had the wind knocked right out of him, the duo splashing right into a puddle. Hands gripped his shoulders, flipping him around.

“Lamar!”

There were only a few instances in his life where Lamar felt small. He’d always been big in character, big in height, and according to him, big in other ways. But this was one of those moments where he couldn’t help but flinch, wanting to collapse in on himself. He was so tired.

“If you gon’ beat my ass or somethin’ jus’ get it over with.” He sighed, shutting his eyes tight.

When he felt nothing but raindrops touch his face, he opened his eyes slowly. His heart sank when he did. Franklin was visibly upset, guilt in his eyes.

“Lamar. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

A wave of déjà vu washed over him. Oh. So that’s what precognition meant. Motherfucking psychic lady.

“You should’ve jus’ told me man.”

“I tried dog. You wouldn’t hear me out.”

“Cuz I.. I thought you got with someone. I didn’t wanna hear it straight from yo mouth if you was.”

He shifted up, Frank sitting in his lap.

“Y’know I always thought that.. Part of me jus’ kinda thought that it’d always be the two of us. I’m never gonna get Tanisha back.. but you..”

Franklin looked away.

“You a crazy ass loyal motherfucker man. You stuck by my side no matter what, and some dumbass part of me was convinced that you… I mean fuck, so many times I thought you would jus’ flat out say something. Somethin’ so I could stop waiting for the one other person I had known forever to just say that they fuckin’ loved me like that.”

Lamar blinked, rainwater getting into his eyes. It wasn’t quite as serene as his dream had been, nor was it verbatim, but Lamar didn’t care. There was something about the way the water droplets sat along Franklin’s face, highlighted by a streetlight behind him that made him look angelic.

“When you started actin’ all weird it jus’.. made me so fuckin’ mad man. I thought you was gon’ pick someone else over me. Jus’ like Tanisha did.”

“Franklin..”

“So why didn’t you jus’ say somethin’ sooner? I waited. Hell, I don’t even know why I did at first.”

“Franklin.”

“But now I’m realizin’ you must not have even noticed yoself what you was feelin’, when I fuckin’ did. I noticed and you didn’t and-”

Lamar grabbed him by the face, grip surprisingly strong after being in the rain.

“How many times do I gotta say yo name for you to hear me?”

The rain kept falling, never slowing for either one of them. Yet, it felt like time stopped. Lamar chuckled lightly.

“Franklin Clinton and Lamar Davis. Two of the dumbest motherfuckers in LS. Homies for life.”

“Yeah. Homies for life.”

His hands never left Franklin’s face. He pressed their foreheads together, lowering his voice.

“I love you, bum ass bitch.”

“Yeah yeah. I love you too.”

He kissed the top of his head, moving his hands down to embrace him in a tight hug. When was the last time they did this? As he thought it over, he could hear Franklin’s voice muffled against his chest.

“Don’t scare me like that again. Next time save us both the trouble n jus’ spill yo heart out. Dramatic motherfucker.”

The words had no malice in them, Lamar feeling him smile as he said it. He kissed him once more, and they just sat in the rain, feeling it bathe them in fond memories.

//plz listen to remember the rain by 21st century it’s so good 💔😭 anyway ya i decided to end it on a sorta happy note !!!!! franklin is a stubborn guy smh,, sorry for any typos lol also i rlly had no idea where i wanted to go with this so sorry if it’s weird or whatever

[ceruleanmusings]

First and Foremost

Fandom: Big Time Rush Pairing: James Diamond x Mickey Mason (OC) Word Count: 5.7k Summary: Mickey goes to cheer James up after a brutal verbal beating by Gustavo. Contents: mild flirting, teasing, show-standard humor, sadness Tag: @mystic-scripture​ @foxesandmagic​ @witchofinterest​ @perhapspearl​ @raging-violets​ @lareiism​ @ocfairygodmother​ @ocappreciationtag​

The bright orange vinyl began sticking to his cheek, trapping his heavy sighs against his warm skin but James didn’t care. Why should he care? It wasn’t as if he had a modeling gig to run off to so the inevitable red line pressing into his cheek could stay. It wasn’t as if he had an acting gig to prepare for so he could continue to lay flopped on the couch, feet dangling off the edge, wrinkling his clothes. It wasn’t as if he had a solo moment in a song to rehearse for so he could let his throat roll an agonized vocalization around in his chest.

He'd left Rocque Records hours ago and yet he still heard Gustavo’s shouts echoing in his head: “Stop smiling like that, I hate it!”, “A garbage disposal has better timing than you!”, “I could replace you with a mop and it wouldn’t make any difference!”, and his favorite, “Okay, do it again, but this time, SING ACTUAL NOTES!”

Clearly, Gustavo was wrong. …He had way better hair than a mop so, actually, it would make a difference!

James uttered another body wrenching sigh.

It just wasn’t fair. He spent so much time rehearsing, getting his vocals warmed up, loosening his muscles to better execute dance moves. He put his all into being a pop star! Okay, sometimes he could get distracted by the lights and the glitz and glamor but who wouldn’t? Pretty people wanted to dress him, sculpt his hair, perfect his image (not that they had to do much on that front), have them joint their ranks, put him in the spotlight where he belonged. Why was it a bad thing? When it came down to it, he wanted this. He always wanted this!

Kendall, Carlos, and Logan didn’t get it. He loved his buds, but that didn’t mean he didn’t see their eye rolls, hear their scoffs, or feel their dismissive aside glances when he talked about a potential modelling job or how he was, in fact, the best person to lead a song (or sing the whole thing, why split hairs?), or when he shared his dream of buying a house to turn it into a personal salon/display museum for his bandanas. (It makes sense to keep it all in one place!)

All he was trying to do was make his dreams a reality. It wasn’t as if he was pushing his buds off a cliff to get there. It’d happen eventually. It was inevitable. (The recognition, not the cliff-pushing.) He had the face, he had the voice, he had the talent, he had the body, he had the face. He was born for this life. He was meant to be doing this!

But no one else seemed to notice.

Groaning, James turned onto his side, tucked his arm beneath his head and curled his knees up to his chest. If Katie were around, she’d point and laugh at him, maybe say he was being a big baby or some other phrase with big words he didn’t understand. Thankfully she, the guys, and Mama Knight were off at an LA Kings game. He’d been looking forward to the game for weeks but going didn’t appeal to him after the day he had. He’d taken enough hits to watch other people get tossed around like a ragdoll.

Sometime later he heard the distinct sound of someone climbing the stairs to get to the swirly slide entrance and yet he still didn’t move. Instead, he watched dust motes float and around the shafts of gold light seeping in through the blinds.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Ordinarily James would’ve jumped up at the sound of Mickey’s voice, double-checking his reflection in his lucky pocket mirror to ensure he was presentable and his muscles were at their peak. He couldn’t let her see him at anything other than his best. He was James Diamond! He didn’t do mediocre! This time, though, he stayed still, listening as she came down the swirly slide, the rubber on her docs tapping against the ground on her dismount. It was the only time she didn’t knock before entering. The door was always open, and people came and went as they pleased, but not Mickey. She made sure to knock every time. It was polite, she explained, looking at them all as if they’d been raised by wolves.

He mentally followed her footsteps—always with that cute little bounce to it—around the back of the couch heading to the island until she came into view. She dressed comfortably as always: dread locks pulled back into a half updo with gold rings and cuffs, her favorite cropped white *NSYNC hoodie depicting the image of their first album cover, dark skinny jeans, pale blue docs and a makeup-free face. She never wore makeup except for occasions where it called for it such as appearances, interviews, and photoshoots. James never thought she needed it.

“I’m just picking up my Tupp…er…ware…” He watched as Mickey’s eyebrows collided and she leaned to the side, peering at him as if she didn’t recognize him on the couch. He didn’t blame her; he was sure he wouldn’t recognize himself if he could see himself right now. “James? Are you okay?” she asked, taking a few steps closer, tucking a lock behind her ear.

James’ lips pushed out another sigh. “I’m sad,” he replied. No sense in hiding the obvious. His lower lip already dropped to a pout upon uttering the words and he couldn’t fight the wave washing over him, dragging his mood further (if that were possible).

Shoving her hands into the front of her pockets she approached. “’Cause of Gustavo?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

He blinked. “That’s it.”

Her eyebrow arched. “No it’s not. I can see it all over your pretty face.” Sliding a hand out her pocket, she wiggled a pointed finger at him, motioning in circles around his face.

“Hmph. At least you think it’s pretty,” he mumbled.

She sat on the floor in front of the couch, turning her knees to the side, propping her elbow on the cushion and her cheek on her fist while turning to him. He looked back at her, taking in her freckle dotted nose. Her dark eyes squinted for a moment, mimicking the small pull to her mouth until they both relaxed. “What’s up? Besides the Gustavo part. I was wearing soundproof headphones while recording my bass lines today—I still heard him through it. And while that sucked, I know that’s not the only issue.”

“Maybe I just wanted to be alone.”

“James, you can’t go an elevator ride without needing someone to talk to.” Her mouth quirked in the corner, bolstering the tease to her words. He managed a small smile. “Speaking of which. Where are the guys?”

“They went to a Kings game.”

“Are you meeting them there?”

“I didn’t want to go.”

Her eyes widened, dark brown lighting to reflect her surprise. “You didn’t want to go to a King’s game?”

James twisted his mouth to the side, shrugging. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. Of course he wanted to go. Everything about hockey appealed to him: the crisp air filling his lungs, the crackling excitement plucking his energized nerves, the sharp snap of wood smacking against rubber, the scuffing of sharp blades on the ice, the cold adding a natural blush to his cheeks, the hot girls dressed in jerseys, the warm nacho cheese sliding down his throat, the way the bright lights lit him on his good side (both of them). But, even with the Kings and Ducks matchup, it wasn’t enough to get him off the couch.

“Well, what about hanging by the pool? It’s Golden Hour.” She reached out and poked his cheek. “Your favorite time of day.”

That was true. Nothing made his selfies better than the effect of a filter without actually having to use one. He thought about it for a second, shook his head, and sighed again. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Wow.” Her lashes fluttered due to her rapid blinking. A hum sounded behind her turned down mouth and she reached out, squeezing his knee. He felt a tug somewhere in the pit of his stomach at her touch, like a cork easing its way out of a bottle. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Silence. Then: “It just doesn’t make sense!” And it all came pouring out, the frustrations and grievances. Not just from that day but from the past year and a half, from the start of it all. How they didn’t want him, they wanted Kendall. How no matter how hard he tried it wasn’t good enough. How, even though he had the talent, and knew it in his bones, it didn’t match the “fire” they looked for. How he was dragged along to form a group in a business he’d always dreamed of being in. How he was constantly shuttled back and forth between his parents, passed along like a discarded accessory. How he was overlooked time and time again (which he still wasn’t even sure how that was possible with his height and face and style.) How he was dismissed and taken as being “dramatic” when he opted not to go to the Kings game.

It was that feeling, the want—or lack thereof—which kept him glued to the couch. It seemed everyone could direct it towards anyone and anything else but him. No one chose him. No one wanted him.

The entire time he spoke Mickey stayed quiet save for the occasional hums to accompany her head nods. By the end she offered up a clicking tsk and a welcomed, “Aww, dude, I’m sorry you had to deal with all that.” She looked at him and he looked right back, wondering for a minute if they were having some sort of staring contest until he got cross-eyed and had to blink. Her shoulders shook with a quiet laugh, lips curling upwards in the corners. Silence stretched between them. James’s eyes widened slightly, taking on a pointed look.

“Is that it?” James finally prompted.

“Is what it?”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“…Yeah.”

“You’re not going to tell me I’m being dramatic? You’re not going to give me some advice? You’re not going to give me some pep talk?”

Mickey snorted. “And what kind of advice could I give you? To just get over it?” James nodded rapidly. “You’re upset. Telling you to get over it won’t change that. Besides, I get it.”

“You do?”

“That feeling you have to work twice as hard just to get the recognition you feel you rightfully deserve only to be overlooked?” She let out a little bitter laugh, twisting the end of one of her dreads around her finger. “Yeah. I know that feeling a little too well; life made sure of it.” A second later her eyes widened and then squinted, as if seeing something in the distance. Her eyebrows furrowed and she clicked her tongue. In a flash, she got off the floor and James watched her make quick strides to the door, opening it with a flourish only to pull it shut behind her. He stared at the swinging jackets hanging off the key shaped holder, an incredulous expression popping onto his face.

“Well thanks for the talk, Mickey! I feel so much better!” James called out to the closed door. He rolled onto his back, unfurling his legs, staring up at the tall ceiling. Geeze, first Gustavo, then his buds, and now Mickey. He thought people cared about him but clearly he was wrong! Why did he even like her in the first place?

A knock sounded on the door. Uncurling himself, James sat up, head tilting in curiosity. A second later the door opened, and a sheepish Mickey stepped through it. “Forgot, I don’t need to knock for myself,” she muttered, rubbing her palms down the legs of her jeans.

Nevermind, she came back. He liked her again.

She drummed her fingers against her thighs and then headed for the kitchen. “I’m thirsty. Do you want a juice box?”

James’s head bobbed from side to side. Now that his chest didn’t feel as if it would cave in, it felt “Yeah, I could go for one.” She pulled one from the fridge and tossed it to him. He easily caught it with one hand as he swung his legs down from the couch, settling on the middle cushion facing the tv. He popped off the straw and stabbed it through the foil-covered hole on top. He didn’t pretend it was Gustavo’s face beneath the straw. Not at all. He took a long pull of the watermelon flavored drink and swallowed. It helped, but only a little.

He watched as Mickey closed the refrigerator and started opening and closing a few cabinets. She pulled a few bowls out of one and set them on the counter and then pulled open a few drawers, taking out measuring cups and spoons and knives.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Well, there’s really no point in bringing back Tupperware that’s empty is there?” She asked, eyebrows lifting. “It’s downright blasphemy.”

His stomach quivered at that. Food? She was making food? As much as a small part of him still wanted nachos from the Staples Center, he could trade it for whatever she made. If magic existed, she possessed it with how good her food turned out. Not that Mama Knight’s wasn’t a great cook herself, nothing beat her cheesy potato soup or Fishstick Fridays or her amazing snickerdoodles, Mickey just tended to make more on the dessert side. And while his body was a temple and he treated it right, sometimes the temple wanted a big fat slice of pie. To please the Gods. (Him, James was the God. No matter how much Logan disagreed, the peasant).

“What are you making? Can I have some?”

“It’s a surprise but sure. It’s gonna take me some time, though.”

James reeled in his pout and protest, as much as he hated having to wait history showed it tended to be worth it. Shifting off the couch, he opened the cabinet beneath the tv and looked at the array of DVDs staring back at him. He bypassed his usual go-tos—Die Hard, Bring it On, the Entourage series, Fast and Furious, Step Brothers, Zoolander, Marley & Me—stopping at the smaller cases on the end, holding white discs with Mama Knight’s handwriting scrawled over the surface depicting dates from a few years back. James shuffled through the cases as if they were a deck of cards, stopping on one he remembered from freshman year, near the end of the season.

The Meadowlark High Coyotes were 7-9; they needed to win at least four more games to make it to the playoffs before their season was cut short. They were down by three points at 4-6 against Willow Grove High’s Rams with ten minutes left. Kendall had been benched for fighting after getting his face smashed into the plexiglass on a breakaway (it was a cheap hit). Carlos was ejected for leaving goal to bum rush the player who executed the hit, trying to pants him. And Logan sat on the bench, his nose buried in his roster book, scribbling away, making notes for the coach to review after the game. That left him the lone wingman to turn the tide on a penalty shot and any scoring chance he obtained afterwards. Yes there was another wingman, but he may as well not have been on the ice with James taking the lead.

He popped it into the DVD player and fell back into the memory of the day, sank into the swell of cheers, the shrill whistles, the thudding beat of his heart in his ears, the rush as he glided over the ice, carrying the puck to the goal shot after shot after shot. And the chanting, oh the chanting, it may as well have been tattooed on his heart: Dia-mond, Dia-mond, Dia-mond! Only his stick slapping against the puck broke the cheering. Crack! Crack! Crack! James rushed the goal and sent the puck sailing through the air, nestling in the top right and left corners of the net, lighting the lamp. The crowd went wild. His team rushed the ice, lifting him up in the air as sirens and whistles went off.

James paused on the zoom on his face, the light in his eyes and the flush on his cheeks. Someone had yanked off his helmet so they could ruffle his sweaty hair, which still looked good compared to the others, thank you very much. (Helmet hair was not something he ever had to combat, he made sure of it.)

They won. They chose him and he won. When he was picked, they all succeeded. That was the point.

He scanned backwards, watching the play in reverse, pressed play, and watched their victory unfold. Again. And again. And again. Forward, back, forward, back. Shoot, score, repeat. Every watch brought back another shot of exhilaration, another round of satisfaction pulsing through his veins. Gustavo had drained that feeling right out of him.

“What’re you watching?” Mickey’s head hung next to his as she leaned over the back of the couch. “Is that you? Oh, you were all so teeny!”

James pouted. He wasn’t teeny. Yeah, he was a couple years younger than now and had a bit of a rounder face but all the days playing hockey he’d shed his childhood weight. And he’d hit his growth spurt, so he was already taller than the guys in their class. Despite the slight sting of the comment, he answered, “Freshman year hockey game. Against our rivals, the Rams.”

“Did you win?”

James scoffed. “Of course we did!” Big Time Rush didn’t lose. Once they all joined the team, they were a force to be reckoned with. “All thanks to me, even. Kendall and the guys were benched for ‘unsportsmanlike behavior’.” His finger quotes stabbed the air as he rolled his eyes.

“Why? What’d they do?”

“Watch.” Within a few seconds the scene unfolded again: Kendall on a breakaway, for all intents and purposes prime for a good shot. Then someone from the other team bashed into him, clearly committing a foul. Kendall bounced off the plexiglass as sharp whistles and booing jeers filled the air. Cheeks red, either due to the cold or anger, Kendall threw down his stick and gloves, whipped off his helmet, and charged for a Ram. He managed a hit on one before two Rams came up, grabbed him, threw him into the plexiglass again, and squished his face against it, dragging it from side to side. Mickey sucked a hissing breath in between her teeth, face scrunching up to a look of pain.

“That looked like it hurt.”

“Hurt worse when the guy wasn’t even called for it—the refs were from their town,” James explained at the look of disbelief crossing her face. “But I get the penalty shot and score more goals to clinch the win for us.”

“Bet that felt good.”

He shrugged. Good wasn’t the right word. Amazing wasn’t the right word. He didn’t think a word existed to properly encompass how that day felt. He paused the video and scanned it backwards again, his thumb hovering over the play button as his eyes took in their reflections on the tv screen. Namely how close she leaned to his head. Turning to her, he eyed her close-up profile. “If you wanted to kiss me, you could just say so,” James said with a flirtatious smile. Motioning to her with the remote he added, “You don’t have to come up with an excuse to get close.”

Her head tilted to the side, her studying him this time. “Would it make you feel better?”

He blinked. Uh…what? That wasn’t what she was supposed to say. That wasn’t how things went with them. He’d flirt, she’d rebuff him, he’d try again later. That’s how their friendship worked, among both agreeing blue was, in fact, a flavor (suck it, Logan!), her helping him with English homework while he helped her with vocal work, taking trips to the farmer’s market for fresh ingredients (her for her cooking, him for his organic, clean, homemade facial mask), and splitting the s’mores skillet at Fun Burger on his cheat day. Not that he didn’t like this turn of events, he wasn’t stupid. Okay, so he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the spotlight, but he wasn’t that stupid.

Still, he shook his head and pinched his arm to be sure this wasn’t some sort of dream, that she had, in fact, asked if kissing him would make him feel better. His fingers pressed into his skin and a pinch of pain shot up his arm. His eyes widened. He was definitely awake!

“Uh…sure?” He mentally admonished himself, hearing how unsure he sounded. Who talked like that? Not him, that’s for sure. He was much cooler than that. He cleared his throat, deepened his voice, turned his eyes to smolder, and said, “I mean, yeah. We could give it a shot.”

“Okay, close your eyes.”

He did as he was told, eyes slamming shut. James’ chest swelled and relaxed as he took in and let out a long breath. Not that he was nervous. He’d kissed plenty of girls before. Hell, once he’d kissed three girls in a half hour (thank you spin the bottle!) So this was nothing to worry about. No big deal. It’s just Mickey. Just the girl he’d been into for the past year. His palms sweating had nothing to do with it, that happened sometimes. Not a lot. Okay, never. Not when it came to kissing girls. So it had to be some sort of new medical condition he’d need to get looked at. Along with the shaking. And his heart thudding against his chest. He made a mental note to get that looked at too.

He felt her hovering in front of him, close enough for that strange sensation to itch and curl beneath his skin, anticipation cracking like a livewire. A strong swoop lurched in his stomach when she asked “Ready?”, so close he smelled something sweet on her breath. Vanilla? A lock of her hair brushed against the side of his face, sending a shot of something pleasant down his spine.

He nodded, swiping his tongue against his bottom lip. (Not too wet, not too dry. Couldn’t have her thinking his lips were like sandpaper.) Breath? He thought back. Last thing he ate were a few ants-on-a-log back at the studio. Peanut Butter wasn’t what he’d go with, but it would do in a pinch.

Okay. You’re James Diamond! You’re in a world-famous band! You have great hair! You have great style! You have great lips! They’re perfectly pouty and pink and fantastic. It’s just a kiss. You can do this. Annnd….go!

James leaned forward, pursing his lips. Something touched his lips. His eyebrows lowered. Huh, her lips were a lot colder than he’d imagined. Just as smooth, though. And a little…pointy? What? Before he could react, something gave way and shot between his teeth, heading to the back of his throat. He coughed, the object shooting forward, bouncing on his tongue.

His eyes popped open, granting him the sight of Mickey and her shit-eating grin. His tongue rolled the object around in his mouth, smooth on all sides except for one point. A rush of chocolate swarmed his taste buds. A Hersehey’s kiss. He blinked, staring up at her.

“Did the Earth move for ya, honey?” she asked sweetly, her soft southern accent igniting the teasing sparkle in her eyes.

“Very funny,” James grumbled, chewing the cold bit of chocolate into small pieces. It melted fast on his tongue. Pushing a hand through his hair, he flopped back against the couch, doing his best to avoid her gaze. But that smile, so bright and satisfied, drew him back in and he found his frown lifting upwards.

Still grinning, she dropped down on the couch next to him. He noticed the plate in her hands, the surface covered with an array of purple swirls and designs resting atop white sponge dotted with color.

Funfetti cupcakes. His favorite.

She was forgiven.

------

“She moves left, she moves right, she goes left again-oh! Fake out! She’s on a breakaway! There’s no one standing between her and the net! Will she make it?” With a lunge, Mickey slapped a pretzel rod against the Oreo in the middle of the table. James dropped to his knees, opening his mouth in time for the cookie to slide against the smooth surface, coast past his teeth, and land on his tongue. Goal! “She does! She scores! And the Missles are the table hockey champions of the world!” Throwing her arms into the air, Mickey danced a little victory jig, chomping the pretzel rod in her hand as if putting an exclamation point at the end of a sentence.

Chuckling, James chewed the Oreo. Ordinarily he would already be mentally preparing his routine at the gym the next day to counteract all the sugar he’d eaten but he could skip it for one day. Tossing his own pretzel rod onto the table—he wasn’t going to make an exception for sodium, not when bloat could set in—he stood, brushing any miniscule bit of dirt off his knees. “Why didn’t you go to the hockey game again?” he asked.

Mickey’s eyebrow arched and she waved her hand around the room, motioning to the table, the leftover cupcakes sitting on the kitchen counter, and Bring it On playing on the tv in the background “And miss out on all this fun?” She winked and took another bite of the pretzel rod. “Not a chance.”

James smiled, a rush of warmth spreading through him.

The door burst open; Carlos, Kendall, and Logan rushed in, hooting, and hollering, waving towels and hats in a flurry. Katie and Jennifer entered behind them, wearing identical expressions, half of amusement and half of wariness.

“Hey guys,” Mickey greeted them, walking around the table. “How was the game?” Her answer came as a wall of sound when Kendall, Carlos, and Logan screamed in her face. Blinking rapidly, she wiggled a finger in her ear as she leaned away from them. “That good, huh?”

“It was awesome!” Carlos shouted. “First the Ducks were in the lead and then the Kings caught up to them but then the Ducks were in the lead again! And during the ice cleanings Bailey and Wild Wing came out and got into a shootout. And then they played musical chairs which is silly, you know, because why would animals need to sit on chairs—ooh! Cupcakes!” Breaking off, he made a dashing dive for the kitchen counter.

“Those are mine!” James shouted, making Carlos freeze with a cupcake halfway to his mouth. A whimpering sound fell out of his mouth as he looked back and forth between James and the cupcake.

“Be nice, there’s enough for them to have one,” Mickey said, rubbing James’s arm. “Go ahead, Carlos.” She barely finished her sentence when Carlos stuffed it into his mouth, paper still attached.

“Dude.” Kendall bumped James on the arm with the back of his hand. “We had to keep Carlos from tackling Bailey the lion for thumping Wild Wing’s bill in the stands. Could’ve used you to hold him back.”

“Is that the only reason?” James asked.

Kendall scoffed. “Of course not! I had no one else to cringe with when they messed up the National Anthem. You weren’t there to list off every stat for the Kings or the Ducks—down to what conditioner they most likely used.” James pushed a laugh out of his nose. “After the game ended, they let us skate around for a bit. T’somethin’ I always dreamed about, skating one of the biggest NHL rinks. Wasn’t the same without my wingman there to catch my passes without fail.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “We’re sorry we didn’t take your feelings seriously. Gustavo was rough on you today. We should’ve stayed with you, made sure you were okay.”

“You didn’t think I was being overdramatic?”

“Oh no, we totally did,” Kendall said, making James roll his eyes, “but halfway through the game I remembered that you get like that when it comes to things that are important to you. And it’s not fair for me, for us, to push that aside. So I’m sorry. We cool?” He extended his hand,

“We’re cool. You know I can’t stay mad at my bud,” James replied, clasping Kendall’s hand to pull him into a quick hug.

“And on that note, it’s time for me to go,” Mickey said, squeezing past them. Clutched in her hands were two Tupperware containers filled with cupcakes. “Are you feeling better?” Kendall’s eyes quickly ping-ponged between the two; he mumbled something about needing to polish his hockey puck and backed away.

James’ mind quickly scanned through a list of things he could say to keep her around a little longer. He came up with nothing. “I am, yeah,” James admitted. “Thanks for sticking around and keeping me company, Mickey.”

“Any time. If you ever want a rematch against the Missles, you know where to find me. We’ll be ready for you Diamondheads.” Leaning past James, she called out “see you, guys!” only to get distracted hand waves back from Kendall, Carlos, Logan, and Katie as they watched the game highlight on the news. She shrugged. “See ya, James,” she said, quickly tilting her fingers at him in a rippling wave.

He waved back, watching as she left the apartment. The door closed with a soft click. James turned on his heel only to stop in his tracks, noticing every pair of eyes in the room pointed on him. Eyebrows crinkling, his head tilted to the side. Usually he deserved attention, basked in it even, but he wasn’t sure what he did to get it this time. “What?” he finally asked.

“You were here with Mickey alone all afternoon,” Kendall said. “What happened?”

James shrugged, approaching the couch. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. We talked, watched some hockey, and messed around.”

“So you never hit on her?” Logan asked.

Kind of. “No, not really.” Hershey kiss substitutes didn’t count.

“Dude! This was your chance!” Carlos sprayed bits of uneaten cupcake out of his mouth as he shouted. Uttering a noise of disgust, Logan wiped the side of his face, shooting such a scathing look at Carlos it made him behind Katie. James laughed at the sight.

“Yeah, that’s not like you, James. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Kendall said.

“I’m feelin’ great, guys, really,” he assured them. “Gimmie another cupcake.” As he reached for the plate in Katie’s hand, he spotted something white under the pillow Kendall leaned against. He yanked it out with one strong pull. “Oh shoot,” he muttered. He got a series of asynchronous what?s answered him. “It’s Mickey’s sweatshirt. She forgot it.”

“Give it to her tomorrow. She’ll be at the studio,” Kendall pointed out.

James took in Kendall’s nonchalance with an incredulous shake of his head. He couldn’t do that. Well…he could but he couldn’t. Even if the built-in excuse for her to come back to the apartment was enticing, he wouldn’t feel right holding onto it. Not when he knew of her attachment to it, not just due to how soft and comfortable the sweatshirt was but to the band as well. When he thought about not having his Lucky Comb on him, even for a second, it sent shivers down his spine.

“No, I’ll just try and catch her at the elevator.” Clutching the sweatshirt tight in his hands, James dashed for the door. It barely opened far enough for him to fit through before he found himself out in the hall. He ran around a corner, nearly clipping it, slowing when he heard Mickeys’ voice.

“Thanks again for being so understanding. I know it was last minute…”

“Girl, it’s okay,” Jo said back. Hmm? James peered around the corner, spying Mickey and Jo standing in front of the elevator doors. She clutched a rolled-up script in her hand. “We can always go another day. It’s no big deal.”

“Thanks. James just looked so…defeated.” Mickey’s nose wrinkled. “It’s weird. I’ve never seen him like that before. I just…I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“I get it. I’m not going to be mad at you for being there for a friend,” Jo said, waving her hand in the air. “Buut…you’ll also be extra forgiven if I can have a cupcake.” Her eyebrows wiggled as she tapped a quick rhythm on the Tupperware lid.

Mickey laughed, popping the lid. “No problem.”

Jo eagerly dove for a cupcake, peeling the paper off halfway before taking a bite at the base of the treat. She brought a finger up to her mouth as she chewed, wiping away a stray smear of cream cheese frosting. “So…you must really like James to cancel going to that pie making class you’d been looking forward to for weeks.”

What!? James pressed his lips together, biting on them. The pulse of pain fell into sync with his rapid heartbeat. Jo’s lips curled in the corners and, beneath the hallway lighting, James swore he saw devil horns pop up on her head.

Mickey rolled her eyes. James squinted. Was that a blush on Mickey’s cheeks or a trick of the light? “Don’t even start with me, I gotta deal with all that at home.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Mickey stepped backwards into the elevator, jabbing at a button with her elbow. “…And I don’t not like him. But don’t tell anyone that!”

Jo mimed zipping her lips. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Swallowing the yelp fighting to shoot up his throat, James turned and headed back to 2J. He slipped into the apartment under the noise of aliens and troopers getting blown up in Biohazard 5 and Carlos’ jeers as he held his hand in front of Logan’s face.

“Did you catch her?” Kendall yelled over the noise, eyes glued to the tv.

“No, I missed her.” James made a beeline for the bedrooms, a soft smile sitting upon his lips. “I’ll see her tomorrow.”

[parkertech]

Tattoos & Tears — CHAPTER 5

summary: on everybody's 18th birthday, they get a tattoo of their soulmate written on their wrist. for you, it's your best friend who you thought you got over. who even has a girlfriend of his own.

warnings: swearing, angst

———————————————————————

The next month had to be the hardest month Peter had to go through, ever since Tony’s death. Peter hated himself for how his feelings did a full 180. He didn’t feel anything with MJ anymore. No happiness, no excitement, not even any boredom. He just felt numb around her.

Of course he didn’t say anything. He knew if he did he would hurt her. He knew every ‘I love you’ from her was genuine. His truth was reminded like an annoying fly in his face that wouldn’t go away. He didn’t want to feel like this. But you can’t control your heart.

That exact heart ached for you all the time. It ached for your touch, for your kisses, for you laughs and smiles, for you in general. But he couldn’t get that. What made it worse was that he was with MJ and didn’t get the balls to tell her the truth. But what made it absolutely aggravating and unbearable was that Brad has asked you out. And you said yes.

You fucking said yes.

Of course you would say yes. Because he’s your soulmate.

Fucking soulmates.

He grew the hate to word. It was an annoying thing. Some stupid determination that isn’t even based off your opinion. It’s literally just because it said so.

Peter did what you did when you were in heartbreak. Isolate from you. He couldn’t stand the pain every time he saw you and Brad. He dug it down deep which added to his numbness.

It had now been 3 months. 3 long, nerve wracking months. Peter’s birthday was today. Well, when the clock hit 12. He wasn’t excited. Not even a little bit. Tonight was the night his supposed ‘love of his life’ would be determined. And he knew it wasn’t going to be MJ. His truth was going to come out today. He could already picture her tear stained face, red cheeks, pure hurt and pain across her face. He closed his and groaned at the thought, before hesitantly and unwillingly get ready for the day.

MJ wasn’t waiting for him at his locker today. He sighed in relief, feeling already some of the pressure in his chest die down. He put in his locker combo before grabbing his calculus textbook along with some random, dingy notebooks. He felt a random pair of arms wrap around him, and he sighed loudly. He turned around, expecting to find MJ. But it wasn’t. It was you.

“Hi Peter!” You said enthusiastically, with a bright smile. Peter blinked a few times, thinking he was dreaming. But his pounding heart reminded him to snap out of it.

“H-Hey, Y/N! What’s up?” He stuttered. He mentally beat himself up for how obvious he was being, keeping his focus on you. Your radiant smile all of a sudden made the room more happy, and it made him mimic it.

“What’s up? Well, I hear someone’s big night is tonight!” His face fell a little and he started at you sadly. You furrowed your eyebrows, looking him up and down. “You okay, buddy?” Peter shook his head a few times, before nodding.

“Yeah, I’m good...” he trailed off. You went back to your happy demeanor and touched his shoulder. He felt it ignite to life, leaving a slight tingle and warmth.

“You better be. You can’t be grumpy when you find out who your soulmate is going to be!” You said, trying to bring back the good mood. Peter looked down at his beat up sneakers and swallowed the huge lump in his throat.

But I want my soulmate to be you, he thought to himself.

“Yeah, I know.” Peter was acting weird. He wasn’t being his jittery self, making cheesy puns, nerding on about new tech and shit. He was being distant, and you could tell.

“Pete, is everything okay with you? Do you need to tell me something?” You ask silently. Peter was tempting when you said that, but decided to not. He’d just weird you out.

“No, I’m fine. Just tired...” He lied. You could see he didn’t want to be pushed, so you nodded hesitantly.

“Alright...well, we’re gonna go to your place tonight, right?” Peter’s head shot up from the floor, pure anxiety in his eyes.

“What, why? Why would be going to my place?” You give him an obvious look, but Peter doesn’t catch on.

“It’s your birthday. We’re gonna celebrate! Don’t worry, it’s not a party, because I know you hate them. It’s just me, Ned, Betty, and MJ of course.”

“Why ‘of course’? You don’t know MJ.” He said a little aggressively. It was because he didn’t want MJ, but that doesn’t mean he could take it out on you. He saw your face turn into a taken aback one, but in a defensive way. Shit.

“Okay, calm down. She’s your girlfriend, number one. Number two, I do know MJ because we’ve been friends since freshman year.” There was a pause since Peter didn’t know what to say. He let his guilt and embarrassment eat him away, which made you scoff and shake your head. “Fine, since you’re in a bad mood, I’m just gonna leave you alone.”

“No, wait, Y/N-“

“See you at your place, Peter.” You replied coldly. Peter’s entire mood went downhill all over again when he saw you walk away from him. Well, more like stomp away from him. He hit his head on his locker 3 times, muttering curses under his breath.

Why is everything going wrong? One second he was fine, happy. The next he was upset, and disappointed. He couldn’t do this anymore. He had to tell MJ. Tonight.

———

The rest of the school day had went by. May heard about his little gathering, and left him alone. That was after she gave him her gift—a Polaroid camera. Of course, May would’ve gotten him something better, but she wasn’t the richest. That didn’t mean Peter didn’t appreciate it though. He appreciated everything May got him. How could he not? It was May for crying out loud.

After an hour when May left, he heard a knock at his door, and got up from the couch with a sigh. Before he opened the door, he looked through the peephole in the middle. You weren’t lying—MJ, Ned, Betty, and you were standing there, waiting for Peter to open the door. Peter took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself, before grabbing the door handle and opening the door.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” You all shouted in unison Peter groaned and dramatically held his ears.

“You guys know it’s not my birthday yet, right?” Ned shrugs and steps inside, the rest of you following. Peter just now noticed some of you had small bags and different boxes wrapped in wrapping paper, which he assumed were his gifts.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate.” Ned replied dully. MJ gave him a quick kiss, going for his lips. But involuntarily, he turned his head so she kissed his cheek. Thank god she didn’t say anything about it. Everyone put their gifts on the counter top of the kitchen, before jumping on the couch.

“Well, he’s been in a very snappy mood, soooo...” you point out playfully. Peter catches you smiling at him, and rolled his eyes before mimicking him.

“Yeah, I was just tired.” He mumbled while popping some popcorn. Peter grabbed a variety of sodas and placed them in front of the couch while waiting for the popcorn. “May’s not home, so we can swear and shit.”

“Yeah, but don’t fuck MJ.” Ned says sarcastically. Everyone chuckles a bit except for Peter.

“You’re just salty you can’t get birthday sex.” MJ snarks back. You let out an ‘oooooh’ while Betty whispered something in Ned’s ear. Whatever it was, it got his eyes to widen and his eyebrows to raise. She giggled and smirked a bit, and you fake gagged.

“Ew, stop eye fucking each other.” You scold playfully. They both roll their eyes while MJ gets off the couch and whispers something to Peter. You eyed her all the way, not even noticing you were glaring, until she left the living room and somewhere in the back. When Peter followed her, your heart clenched a bit and a small lump formed in your throat. It didn’t take a detective to figure out what was going to happen. Can you blame him, though? It was MJ of course he’d rather be alone with her.

If only Peter could tell you how wrong he was.

MJ was straddling his lap, kissing and sucking on his neck like her life depended on it, her shirt tossed aside next to her. Even though Peter was gripping her hips, his face screamed “get me out of here.” Her sucking just annoyed and discomforted him, and he would do anything to get out of this situation. Anything. MJ noticed his behavior, and slowly removed her lips from his neck.

“Is everything okay?” She asks shyly. It’s a little embarrassing when your boyfriend doesn’t give you his usual reaction in this kind of moment. Peter looked at her concerned eyes, and then down at the ground.

“Yeah, I’m just not really feeling this right now...”

“Oh...” MJ said kind of sadly. She hurried her shirt back over her head, and sat next to Peter. There was an awkward silence in the room, as she stared down at her hands in her lap and Peter stared at the carpeted floor under his feet. “Is everything okay with you?” It took Peter a second to process her words, before he looked up at her and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I’m fine.” He lied.

‘No, I’m not fine. I realized I’m not in love with you a month ago and I can’t bring myself to tell you because I know I’ll hurt you.’ His thoughts were screaming at him now. MJ being the most observant person on planet earth, could see straight through him.

“You’re lying,” Peter groaned slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. MJ is silent again for a few moments before continuing, “is it Spider-Man shit?”

“No, that’s not it.” Peter said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s just....I-“ He wanted to say it, say it so fucking badly. “I just-“ He stopped, realizing this could actually happen. He could pour out the truth and everything would be over. He wouldn’t have this weight on his shoulders anymore.

Then he remembered it’s his birthday. He doesn’t wanna ruin this day. If he’s going to tell her, it was not going to be tonight. He needed to have one good day. “I’m just tired, and stressed. School and shit...” He mumbled.

Please believe me, please believe me, please believe me!

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She bought it. Peter let out a breath in relief, before shaking his head.

“No, I just-I wanna enjoy today. It’s my birthday in like, an hour, so...” MJ nods understandingly before kissing his cheek, hoping it would relax his nerves.

“You can tell me anything, okay?” She reassured. ‘If only that were true.’ Peter thought to himself. He nodded again, before MJ squeezed his shoulder and went back out to the living room, Peter following.

Since it was his special day, Peter made a rule that he could put on whatever movie and no one could complain. To no ones surprise, it was Star Wars for the one hundredth million time. Everyone passed out in pure boredom except for Peter. He checked the time on his phone. 11:59. Great. His fate was about to be determined by a tattoo. He gently pushed MJ’s head off of his lap, before running over to his room, and sitting down on the bed. He didn’t realize how long a minute actually was until he sat there in his own silence.

What if it says MJ? It could happen. Maybe he’s just in a weird faze and doesn’t realize it. I mean, why else wouldn’t he have broken up with her by now? If he truly ‘loved’ you as he said he did, he would’ve tried to win you over already. But he hasn’t. So what the fuck where his feelings doing? Fucking feelings...they’re so annoying.

Peter checked the time again on his phone. 12:00.

He didn’t realize it was going to actually happen until he looked at the time.

God, shit, fuck, I’m not ready for this. Don’t be a pussy, Peter. You fight criminals for fucks sake. A tattoo won’t hurt you.

He kept mentally reassuring himself, before he finally took a good amount of air in, and held up his wrist in front of his face. His right eye slowly peeled open, and he saw the first letter. It wasn’t M. His other eye opened, and he felt his face drop the second he read the full thing.

Y/N.

It’s there. That’s her name. This is real. I can’t take this back. Holy fuck. Oh my god. Peter had no idea what to think. He actually convinced himself for a second he didn’t love you. But the ink on his wrist just said ‘fuck that’ and smashed his beliefs into a million pieces.

‘Who’s your soulmate?’

‘It’s...Brad Davis!’

He was your soulmate.

And you knew.

And you lied about it. You said it was Brad. That’s why you got mad when he said to stay away from him. That’s why he was mad when you said Brad was your soulmate. Because he was yours.

You lied. And you did it on purpose.

Peter felt hot and angry tears glossing his eyes as the gears turned in his head. All the puzzle pieces were clicking, and just created anger in him. He didn’t know if it was directed towards him for not noticing sooner, or at you for lying to him about this kind of thing. It was a mix, most likely.

Peter‘s spidey-sense tingled and his ears started ringing, which made him direct his head towards the doorway. His face paled when you saw you standing there, your arms wrapped around your body, and your eyes being slightly glossy like his. Peter stood up and flared at you, a scowl across his face. His reaction—something that you dreaded, made you swallow hard, and look down at the ground. He was definitely angry, something you knew was going to happen. Now that I was actually happening now, it was a hundred times more nerve wracking. Your anxiety was at an all time high, and you slowly turned around, facing the door. You placed your shaky hands on it, slowly pushing it shut before turning the lock on the knob.

“I-I think we need to talk...” you stuttered nervously. Peter could feel his fists clench shut, trying to contain his anger, before replying.

“Yeah. I think we do.”

———————————————————————

a/n: after a million centuries chapter 5 is FINALLY here. sorry for the long wait, i had a pretty bad two weeks...but I’m fine now, sooo

Taglist 🏷 (requests are open!)

@marvel4geeks @ladykxxx08 @chloecreatesfictions @joyleenl @witchything @pluckypete @yourneighbourhoodclown @whatareyouhidingpeter @elamvlfoy @trumpettay @pparkeramorr @naioimie

[bo-bo-bean]

Pulling the Heartstrings

(My version of Mayday's backstory! Hope you enjoy!)

Merriam looked down at her violin, hair slick back in a curled ponytail. Her white dress shirt was tucked into her black skirt, Mary Janes shining in the lights. Pink eyes staring for what seemed like forever shifted slightly at the voice urging her to play.

“Come, Merriam, we don’t have all day,” her father sighed softly.

“Show us what you learned, darling…~” her mother insisted. Merriam nodded, cradling the instrument under her jaw, fixing her posture, and glided the bow up and down the strings as her other hand held the neck, pressing the strings to a certain tone. An elegant and smooth sound came from the violin, pleasing her parents as they smiled, holding hands.

Merriam was raised with fame and fortune. Her silk sheets were comfortable, but she liked them messy. However, her parents wouldn’t allow it. In fact… they never let her do a lot. She wanted to go out after dark? That was a no. She saw someone drum and ask to watch? It was a bad influence. She wanted that Lava man action figure? Girls are supposed to like girl things and got a new pair of flats instead.

Constantly having them breathe down her neck, she gave up and became the perfect girl. Well mannered, accepted any gift despite hating it, curtsied, and always introduced herself with her full name; Merriam Winstkins RoseWaters.

She hated it though… hated everything being so bland, so clean, so… wrong. People would say she’s lucky to have so much money, but she didn’t want money she couldn’t spend on things she wanted.

After her performance, she ended with a curtsy, applause coming from her parents.

“Oh, how wondrous, darling!” her father beamed. “We shall celebrate!”

She perked up a little, quickly slipping words out of her mouth, not able to control them.

“Can we have burgers!?”

There was a pause and then laughter. Her parents went to her, shaking their heads.

“Oh, you’re so funny, Merriam…! No no, we shall have endives with shrimp salad…! I might even let you have tea!”

“Unsugared, of course,” her father added in.

“Yes, too much sugar would affect your performance.”

Merriam slouched down, sighing and looking up at them, back up.

“May I be excused?”

“Yes, you may.”

She went to her room, going on her bed, and pulling up her phone. Her heart raced as her legs kicked back and forth, her shoes flying off and clattering to the floor. Laying back on her bed, she pulled up a website for her favorite rocker; Kul Fyra…

After putting in earbuds, she listened, a wide smile on her face. She shredded her guitar, flames bursting. She shouted out her lungs in heavy metal, lyrics hitting Merriam hard each and every time.

“Why survive when you can live!? Shredding for life, lungs burning out! Reaching for the sun, punching the stars, makes you want to sit up, scream and shooouuut!!”

The crowd went in an uproar and Merriam would’ve as well if she wasn’t trying to be quiet. She did sigh out, happy to watch her favorite inspiration to melt away the stress.

“I wish I could be like her…” she pouted. “To be so free… free and able to do whatever…! No order, no control… just let it loose…”

As soon as the video ended, she tossed her phone aside, sighing out once more before looking at her door as it opened. Quickly, she sat up, her parents coming in.

“Merriam, dear, we’re going out shopping. Come join us in five minutes.”

“... yes mother.”

And now, away from her only way of de-stressing, she sat in the car, back straight, politely answering questions and wanting to be anywhere else at that moment. Always shopping for fancy perfumes that made her nearly wheeze from the heavy fragrance, tight corsets, itchy dresses, and listening to her parents rant about anything.

Once she was dragged into the store, her eyes glazed around and they landed on one thing…

… a pink rock guitar, purple neck, white strings, and a guitar pick next to it on display. She had her sight on it, watching as if her heart was trying to crawl out and reach for it. Before she knew it, her mother scolded,

“Merriam! Get away from that!”

She noticed she had an arm outstretched to it, her mother and father looking shocked and upset.

“... I-I just wanted to hold it,” she admitted half heartedly.

“No, you will not hold it. Not even touch it,” her dad took her arm.

“That is not a violin. That’s a blasted guitar,” her mother huffed.

“B-but I just want to see it! I want something I want…!”

“You only get things you need,” her mom crossed her arms. “Like a new dress. You do NOT need that guitar!”

Face red and fighting back tears, Merriam looked down.

“Chin up, Merriam,” her father ordered. “You will be punished for even attempting the thought to talk back to us.”

She stayed looking down, causing her mom to snap her fingers at her.

“Merriam, when your father speaks, you listen!”

“Shut up!!” she screamed at them. This caused some people to look over. Within a split second, she grabbed the guitar, put a wad of cash on the counter, and then bolted out. “Stay away from me!!”

In an attempt to catch her, the mom called the police quickly.

“Please hurry! She ran off!”

Merriam ran into an alleyway, hugging the guitar. It felt so right… she held the neck, wrapping the strap around her neck and shoulder, beaming. Before she could try it out, she heard sirens.

“No, no, no!” she panicked. Looking around, she saw a sewer grate. It was her only escape…

Opening the lid, she quickly went down the ladder a bit and put the grate back on top of the hole, swiftly making her way down. The place smelled of the ocean and algae… must’ve been an abandoned sewer system…

Staying on the floor as she reached it, she heard the sirens pass by, along with footsteps of police officers and her parents, who desperately shouted her name, even offering empty promises that they would change things… but she stayed quiet, getting out of the line of sight from the hole in the grate.

Waiting and waiting… she heard them leave, to which she looked around the place. It… wasn’t too bad. Sitting up, she dusted herself off, holding the guitar close for comfort.

“... I can’t believe I did this…” she muttered, fighting back more tears. “... but I needed to live, not survive. Just like Kul Fyra says…”

With that in her head, she walked around, exploring around. Wet, dark, cold, and her knees took a little scraping, but other than that… she felt happy. No… ecstatic…! She was free…!

With a laugh, she hugged her guitar and decided now was the time to play it. Pick in her fingers, she strummed once… then did two strings. Added three strings, back to two. Her tongue stuck out, heart racing. Pulling her hair out of the tight ponytail and kicking off her shoes and socks, she laughed and played more and more, the shredding echoing back to her ears, pleasing her more.

“Yes!!” she giddily jumped, strumming all of the strings at once. “Just like Kul Fyra…”

Panting with giggles, she saw herself in the green water. She reflected on what just happened… stole a guitar. Well, paid for it, but stole it in her parents’ eyes. Ran away… from her family and the police! It was thrilling! And she got what she truly needed…

“Okay Merriam, take some deep breaths,” she shuddered. “Calm down…” She looked at herself again. She… did look different. Hair down, shirt wrinkled, knees scraped. She… liked it. With a smile, staring into her own eyes, she nodded. “... not Merriam… Mayday… I will be Mayday…”

[debbiechanclub]

Best Two Out of Three, Part 24

Oh, friends. @hotyeehawman man and I would like to profusely apologize for how long it took us to get this part out. (And yes, we both changed our usernames - you’re in the right place!) It feels like it’s been an eternity since I posted any of this here fic. But luckily for you all, I’m pretty sure this is the longest part yet? And that being said, I’ll just let you lovelies get into it.

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 24/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x Adam Page x OFC x Matt Jackson (yup that’s what we’re going with now.

Word count: 9.1k

Warnings: Language; angst; brief explicit sexual descriptions

Catch up on previous parts here.

Tag squad: @freshlysqueezedmox @gabbynorth98 @librathepheonix13 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @exe-sadboi-exe @comeasyoudar @champbucks

Callie awoke the next morning with an unmistakable knot in the pit of her stomach. Guilt.

It wasn’t regret. She didn’t regret sleeping with Matt. He had been… wonderful. Attentive. Caring. Passionate. He’d made her feel desired and alive in ways that she hadn’t in months. So long that she’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel like that. She’d missed it, craved it, more than she’d realized. And there was no one else she rather would have helped her find it again than Matt.

Which was precisely why she felt so guilty.

The covers shifted as he stirred next to her. She felt him roll over and snake his arm around her waist. She smiled and relaxed into his touch. She didn’t want to feel guilty about how Matt made her feel. She just wanted to feel it.  

“Good morning,” she said. But he wasn’t quite awake.

“Mm,” he grunted in return.

She laughed and turned to face him. His long, thick hair was disheveled from sleep and had nearly fallen out of its bun. She reached out and brushed a stray strand back from his face. “I was thinking about going to get Starbucks. Do you want anything?”

He didn’t open his eyes as he answered. “Yeah, but I’ll get it, babe. Just gimme few more minutes.”

Callie’s pulse quickened. Babe. She chalked it up to him being half-asleep. “It’s okay, I don’t mind,” she insisted. “You want your usual?”

He nodded. She smiled and kissed his cheek, slipped out from underneath his arm, and climbed out of bed. Their clothes were scattered on the floor, remnants of the night before. She grabbed her joggers and pulled them on along with the closest shirt she could find—Matt’s Young Bucks t-shirt—and then she threw her hair in a bun, slipped on her sneakers, grabbed her phone and wallet, and went out the door.

The nearest Starbucks was just a five-minute walk from the hotel, but she was in no rush to get there. It was a beautiful morning, and she needed the air—especially after Matt had let that pet name slip. She did her best to clear her thoughts of it as she arrived at the coffee shop. She queued behind a man in a business suit and pulled out her phone like everyone else. But, not long afterward, someone unexpected joined the line behind her.

“Late night?”

Callie’s stomach lurched. She’d know that voice anywhere. Adam.

“Not really,” she responded without fully turning around. She was suddenly exceptionally aware that she was wearing Matt’s shirt. She didn’t want him to see it.

But then it came her turn to order—and there was no hiding that she was getting two coffees to go. She spoke as softly as she could when she told the barista what she wanted and, as soon as she paid, turned and hurried past Adam to a table by the window, flustered. Of course this would happen. Of course she would run into him the morning after she’d slept with Matt, getting coffee for him, wearing his fucking shirt. She looked warily back at him as she sat down. She just wanted to keep an eye on him… but she found herself starting to stare as he pulled out his wallet. Admiring the way his t-shirt stretched over his biceps. How well his jeans fit him. She started to get lost in her thoughts—but then he turned toward her. She quickly looked away, back down at her phone. But not quick enough. It wasn’t long before he was standing in front of her.

“Where’s lover boy?”

She glared up at him. “He’s not my lover boy.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Cal. Hair up, glasses on, wearing his t-shirt. This has walk-of-shame written all over it.”

Callie’s brow lowered. “Well it’s not a walk of shame if I’m going right back to him, is it?”

She regretted it almost as soon as she said it. Hurt flashed in his eyes. But it was gone in an instant, replaced with nothing but resentment.

“So he made you go get the coffee?” He scoffed. “What a gentleman.”

“I offered to get it,” she snipped. “And what are you so upset about? You’re more than free to move on with Alex now.”

“Oh, am I? Well you might want to let her know that, because she went home with Kenny last night.”

Callie faltered. She didn’t know what to make of the sarcasm in his tone. Was he trying to mask his hurt? Or was he just being an asshole?

“Callie!”

The barista called out her name not a second too soon. She looked Adam in the eye as she stood from her seat. “Well, it’s not my problem that she rejected you,” she spat. “At least now you know how it feels.”

She shouldered past him, grabbed the coffees from the counter, and pushed out the door back into the morning air. She walked much more swiftly back to the hotel than she had to Starbucks. She knocked on the door when she got back to the room, too agitated to bother with trying to fish out her key card while balancing two coffees. Matt answered in just his sweatpants.

“That was quick,” he noted as she breezed past him into the room.

“Yeah. Oh,” she stopped and turned around to hand him his coffee. “Here.”

“Thanks…” he trailed off as he took it from her, his brow furrowed. Callie wasn’t surprised when he asked, “Are you okay? You seem flustered.”

“Yeah.” She breathed out and took a sip of her coffee as he shut the door. “I just ran into Adam at Starbucks. It was… awkward.”

Matt’s eyebrows arched. “Oh.” His eyes flicked down to her shirt. His shirt. “I guess he assumed…?”

“Yeah.”

He frowned. Callie fidgeted. Now it was awkward between them. But she didn’t anticipate what he said next.

“Do you regret it?”

Her eyes widened. “What? No,” she answered with a shake of her head. She walked over and gave him a reassuring kiss. “Not at all. I just would’ve preferred not to run into my ex the morning after.”

She inwardly winced at that word. Ex. It still hurt to think of Adam that way. She still loved him; that wouldn’t go away overnight.

But the feel of Matt’s arms around her helped.

“Well, forget about him,” he said. “Let’s go out today. Get away from everyone.”

A smile pulled at the corners of Callie’s lips. That sounded like a perfect idea. “Okay. I’m gonna jump in the shower.” She shot him a smirk as she pulled away. “Want to join me?”

He groaned. “All my stuff is back in my room.”

“So?” She peeled his shirt over her head and tossed it aside. His eyes drank in the sight of her.

“Twist my arm, why don’t you,” he said, and he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the bathroom.  

* * * * * * * * * *

Adam didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t know where to go from here. He didn’t want to go back, but he couldn’t see a way forward, either. And the kicker was that he’d done it to himself.

He’d considered turning around and walking right back out when he’d seen Callie standing in line at Starbucks. And after their interaction, he wished he had turned around and left. He didn’t want to know that she’d been with Matt last night. He didn’t want to think about him touching her body the way that he used to touch it, making her feel the things that he used to make her feel. He didn’t want to know that their relationship was barely two weeks in the ground and she’d already jumped into bed with another guy. And not just any guy—Matt-fucking-Jackson. Literally anyone else would have been better than Matt; Nick would have been better than Matt. But, ironically, he wasn’t surprised that it was Matt. Adam knew Matt had always had a thing for Callie; he’d known it from the day Matt had introduced her to him. But he’d never thought anything of it, never worried about it, not even when Matt would flirt with her right in front of him. He was his friend; he wouldn’t seriously try to move in on his girl like that.

He’d been wrong on both counts.

But, as hurt and upset as he was, Adam knew he didn’t have any room to judge Callie. Not really. Not after where his mind had gone last night.

He’d needed a physical release last night. He’d needed to unburden himself of the drunken, thoughtless way he’d kissed Callie; of the stress and tension and anxiety he’d been carrying for weeks. And so, alone in his hotel room, he’d taken care of it—and he’d thought about Alex. He’d thought about how her lips would feel wrapped around his dick, how she’d look underneath him as she took him, how she’d sound moaning his name. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten himself off thinking about her, but he hadn’t done it in years, since long before he’d met Callie. And after he’d finished, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from texting her.

Hey, are you at the hotel?

Her response had gutted him.

No… I’m actually on my way to Kenny’s.

He hadn’t said anything else after that, and neither had she. He wasn’t sure what would have happened if she had been at the hotel. He wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping for when he’d texted her. But he didn’t want to think about it. Just like he didn’t want to think about the fact that Callie was with Matt right now.

He walked back into the hotel and crossed through the lobby, but he slowed before he could reach the elevators. Chuck nodded in greeting as he, Trent, and Orange walked toward him.

“Hey, Hangman. What’s up?”

He shrugged. “Oh you know, just went to Starbucks and ran into Callie getting morning-after coffee for Matt. So... yeah. What’s up with y’all?”

He took a sip of his coffee as they all stared back at him, unblinking. Maybe he shouldn’t have volunteered so much information, but he couldn’t help it—he was emotional. But before he could excuse himself and disappear, Trent said, “Well that fucking sucks. We’re going to get breakfast. Wanna come with?”

The offer surprised Adam. Why the hell would they want him to come with them? He’d just drag down the mood. Besides, he didn’t want to go with them. He wanted to go back upstairs to his room and wallow in self-pity.

But then he thought of Alex again. She’d tell him to snap the fuck out of it.

“Fuck it,” he decided. “Sure.”

“Cool,” Trent returned.

They all started toward the exit. Chuck fell in step beside him. “If you’re wondering where Alex is, she went to Kenny’s last night.”

Adam frowned down at his coffee cup. “Yeah. I know,” he said. That was another thing he didn’t want to think about.

* * * * * * * * * *

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”

“Alex, don’t just mash buttons. You need to do combos.”

“But this—is—working!”

Alex stuck out her tongue in concentration as she furiously mashed the buttons on the game controller. She and Kenny had been playing this stupid Street Fighter game for forty minutes now, and she absolutely refused to quit until she won at least one—

“K.O.!”

She dropped the controller to her lap, defeated. Again. Kenny curled his lips into his mouth. He was trying desperately not to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Alex scowled. She was far too competitive for her own good.

He gave her an apologetic grin. “I’m sorry, baby. That round was better.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he assured. And then, “I think it was the first time you lasted past three minutes.”

“Kenny!” She gasped and grabbed a throw pillow from the couch. “I could say the same about you last night!”

She swung and whacked him with the pillow. “Whoa!” She reared back again, and he held up his arm to block the blow. “Uncalled for and untrue!”

She smirked. “Come on, you walked right into that.”

She swung again; but he caught the other end of the pillow and used it to pull her closer. “Oh yeah? Well I certainly didn’t hear you complain last night.”

Alex bit back a bashful grin. No, she definitely hadn’t complained last night. Last night had been… indescribable. Normally with Kenny it was a frantic rush to rip off clothes as they blindly stumbled and pushed each other to the nearest available surface. Rough and quick. Fucking. But last night had been different. He’d undressed her deliberately, like he wanted to memorize every curve of her body, every mark on her skin. He’d carried her to his bed and laid her down gently. He’d paid more attention to her needs than his, pleasuring her completely, slow and deep as she’d clutched at the sheets, his back, his hair, riding wave after wave until she couldn’t handle it anymore. He’d made love to her. She’d felt what she meant to him, undoubtedly. She’d felt it that morning when she’d woken up next to him and he’d told her to stay in bed while he made them breakfast. She felt it now. And, more than anything, she hoped that he felt what he meant to her, too. She didn’t want him to doubt that anymore.

“C’mere,” he gently said. He moved the pillow from in between them, and Alex snuggled against him as he wrapped his arm around her. “I’m sorry for teasing you,” he said with a kiss on her head. “I know video games aren’t your thing.”  

She let out a sarcastic laugh. “And that’s not a deal-breaker?”

“What?” he shot, incredulous. “That’s ridiculous. Why would it be a deal-breaker?”

Alex’s face burned with embarrassment. She shouldn’t have said that; she didn’t know how to explain it without incriminating Adam. And she had to explain it now. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “It was one of the arguments people made back in June about why we shouldn’t be together, because I don’t play video games. It’s dumb; I shouldn’t have listened to it.”

There was a thick, contemplative pause. And then Kenny said, “And by ‘people’ I assume you mean ‘Adam.’”

Alex didn’t say anything in response. Her silence spoke volumes.

Kenny squeezed her closer. “Do you remember what you said to me at the hotel the night we first got back together? After your match against Callie and your fight with Trent?”

She looked up at him, her face a question mark. He went on.

“You said, ‘Fuck what anyone thinks. We worked things out and that’s all that matters.’ Well… now I’m saying the same thing to you.”

Alex glanced away, chewing anxiously on her lip. She did remember saying that now. She wished she would have taken her own advice.

“I couldn’t care less that video games aren’t your thing,” he assured her. “But you know they’re my thing, and you care enough about that to try. That means a lot to me. And besides… I actually think it’s adorable how frustrated you get.”

Warmth spread throughout Alex’s core. It meant a lot to him. He meant a lot to her. She needed him to know, once and for all. “Well, I care about the things you care about. Because I love you.”

She looked back up at him. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looked so happy. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Kenny tilted her lips toward his and kissed her, soft and sweet. “I love you too, baby,” he said, and Alex’s heart was so full that it felt like it would burst out of her chest. They’d taken the long way around to get here, but they’d made it… and she finally felt like she could rest.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie couldn’t get rid of that knot in her stomach. It had only grown larger and more solid after she’d run into Adam at Starbucks. And, after a while, the focus of her guilt had started to shift.

Matt had been an absolute sweetheart all afternoon. He’d taken her to the beach because he knew how much she loved it. They’d walked along the boardwalk and out onto the pier, and he’d held her close and smiled big as she’d taken their picture in the midst of the ocean. He’d even waited patiently as she’d gone through the shops picking out clothes and trying them on (she’d rewarded him by modeling a few bikinis). And now, as they sat in a cute little café getting something to eat, she couldn’t help but watch him with a smile on her lips as he looked over the menu, admiring his long lashes and hair, his beard and jawline. He made her heart flutter.

So then why couldn’t she stop thinking about Adam?

The waiter brought them their drinks. They put in their order, and as they handed him the menus, Matt told him it would all be on one check. Callie blushed as the waiter nodded and walked away.

“You don’t have to pay for me,” she said.

“I know, but I want to,” he returned. “Besides, I owe you for getting the coffee this morning.”

“This’ll be more than the coffee.”

“Are you sure about that? We got Starbucks.”

She laughed. “Fair point. Well, thank you.” She crossed her right knee over her left, and her foot bumped his leg underneath the table. “Sorry,” she muttered and shifted in her seat. He gave her a quizzical smile.

“Okay, what’s up?”

She took a sip of her iced tea. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve been tense all day. What’s on your mind?”

Callie grabbed her straw wrapper from the tabletop and nervously wound it around her finger. That was a loaded question—and she wasn’t sure she was ready to unload. “I know I’ve been tense,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize; just talk to me. I want you to feel like you can talk to me about anything.”

“I do feel that way,” she returned. “It’s just…”

She trailed off. Matt finished her thought for her. “Adam?”

She wound the straw wrapper so tightly around her index finger that the tip turned red. “Is it that obvious?” she muttered.

He pulled his mouth to one side. “Well, you’ve seemed a little off ever since you ran into him this morning so… yeah.”

She frowned. “I’m sor—”

“Callie,” he gently cut her off. “Stop. Just talk to me. You’re not gonna hurt my feelings.”

Callie glanced down at her hands. On the contrary, her fear of hurting him was the exact reason she didn’t want to tell him what was on her mind. But Matt had been nothing but open and honest with her. She needed to do the same.

“I like this. A lot,” she said. “I like being with you, more than I expected to so soon. And I don’t regret anything. But… I’m not completely over Adam yet.”

She held her breath, bracing herself for his reaction, anticipating the worst—

“I don’t expect you to be.”

She breathed out. “What?”

Matt’s eyes were soft and understanding as he looked at her across the table. “I don’t expect you to be completely over Adam yet. It’s only been what, a week-and-a-half since you ended things with him? And in one of the most dramatic fashions possible,” he said with a smirk. “It’ll take time to get over that. Longer than a week-and-a-half.”

Callie’s brow furrowed. She was relieved, unbelievably so. But she was also confused. “But that doesn’t bother you? After we… you know.”

He smirked. “Not really. I mean, not to sound cocky, but I’m pretty sure you weren’t thinking about him last night or this morning.”

Her cheeks colored and she rolled her eyes. “You absolutely meant to sound cocky.”

Matt’s grin widened. He knew he had, too. “But no, it doesn’t bother me,” he assured. “I like you, Callie. A part of me always has, even when you were with Hangman. But I know this has all happened pretty fast, and I don’t want to push you. So as long as you’re honest with me about what you’re feeling and what you want, we’ll be good.”

Callie’s heart fluttered again. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve someone as sweet and understanding as Matt. But she did know she didn’t want to lose him. “Okay. I can do that,” she said; and as he smiled at her, she did her best to bury the thought of Adam’s kiss in the back of consciousness.

* * * * * * * * * *

Saturday... All Out 

Alex was a bundle of nervous energy as Kenny pulled up to Daily’s Place Saturday afternoon. Today was the day: All Out. Her anxiety over it hadn’t let her get a wink of sleep last night, so much so that she worried she’d affected Kenny’s sleep with all her tossing and turning. But as they got out of his car and grabbed their suitcases from the trunk, he looked like his only concern was her.

“Are you alright?” He caught her hand in his. “You’ve been quiet all day.”

She tried to nod. “Yeah. I’m just…” she trailed off and changed her mind. “No. I’m nervous about your match. And about seeing the boys.”

“Don’t be nervous about the match,” he said with a gentle squeeze of her hand. “That’s for me to worry about. And why are you nervous about seeing your friends?”

Alex frowned. She couldn’t help but notice how he’d said the match was for him to worry about—not him and Adam. But she tried not to dwell on it. “Because I’m nervous I’ll walk in there and it’ll just be a repeat of three months ago. I’m sick of everyone trying to tell me what’s best for me.”

She glanced back at the arena, worry darkening her eyes. None of the boys had seemed thrilled when she’d told them she was leaving with Kenny on Wednesday, but they hadn’t put up any arguments, either. She hoped they hadn’t saved it for today.

Kenny let go of her hand and brought his up to cup either side of her face. She looked up into his eyes, gripping his wrists as he held her. “Remember what I told you?”

Her brow puckered. “Fuck what anyone thinks?”

“Fuck what anyone thinks,” he repeated.

She pressed her fingers into his skin. “I care what they think, Kenny. They’re my best friends.”

“I know.” He let out a breath and touched his lips to her forehead. “And because they’re your best friends, they should support you when you’re happy. Right?”

She frowned again. “You would think so.”

“Then don’t be nervous,” he said with another kiss on her forehead. He pulled back and looked down at her. “I’m sure it won’t be a repeat of three months ago. And if it is… it’s their problem, not yours.”

Alex lifted her heels off the ground and kissed him. “You’re right,” she breathed. “But speaking of your friends… don’t take it personally if I go out of my way to avoid Matt.”

“I’ll talk to Matt,” he returned. “Don’t worry about him, either. He’ll come around.”

She gave him a small, grateful grin. But she wouldn’t hold her breath on Matt coming around.

He shut the trunk and locked the car, and then he took her hand again, interlacing their fingers as they walked into the arena. And Alex realized, with some surprise, that she didn’t care if anyone saw them. She was with Kenny; he was with her. She didn’t want to hide that.

But they had to part ways once they got to the locker rooms. They shared a lingering kiss as Alex told him she’d see him later—she knew he’d be busy until after the show was over—and then she continued down the hall toward the Best Friends locker room. She drew in a deep breath through her nose, let it out through her mouth. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, Alex,” she said to herself. “They’re your best friends.” She steeled herself when she arrived at the door, pushed her way inside. Chuck, Trent, and Orange were all already there—and so was Adam.

She stopped just inside the entrance, her eyes wide and surprised. “Oh! Hey. I wasn’t expecting to see you in here.”

Adam looked even more caught off-guard to see her than she did him. “Yeah… Chuck said I could share with y’all. It’s a full house tonight and I don’t really have anywhere else to go because of… you know.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Of course.” She pulled her suitcase toward a cubby, doing her best to seem unbothered. But seeing Adam had thrown her off more than she’d expected it would. The text he’d sent her Wednesday night flashed in her mind. Hey, are you at the hotel? She’d thought about it more than she cared to admit over the last two-and-a-half days. Prior to two weeks ago, she wouldn’t have thought much of it at all. But now that she knew how he felt, she couldn’t help but wonder what his intentions had been. 

“Hangy’s been hangin’ with us the last few days,” Chuck stated as she sat down. “Cowpals is a thing now.”

“It’s not a thing,” Adam returned. Chuck glared at him.

“Just let it happen, Adam!”

He grinned. So did Alex. “I agree with Chuck,” she said. She exchanged a glance with Adam as she unzipped her suitcase—a feeling. They’d always have each other’s back, no matter the circumstances.

“So do I,” Trent piped up. He looked at Alex. “All we were missing was you.”

He didn’t say it negatively. In fact, it was quite the opposite. We missed you. That was what she felt from it. Warmth.

“Well, I’m here now,” she smiled, and her anxiety loosened its grip when he smiled back. They were her best friends. Nothing would change that.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie had never spent much time in the EVP room. But now here she was, sitting on the couch next to Matt, watching as the All Out Buy In pre-show got underway. It was nice. She could get used to it.     

“So are you gonna come out with us for our match orrrr…?”

She shot Matt a look. “I’m not even gonna justify that with a response.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Why not?”

Her eyebrows arched. “Seriously? I’m not accompanying you for your match, Matt. That’s just asking for trouble.”

“Trouble from who? Everyone’s about to find out that we’re wrestling together against Trent and Alex next week. What’s the difference?”

Callie looked down to pick at a loose string on her jeans. He wasn’t wrong—Tony had made the mixed tag match official earlier that afternoon, and Callie wouldn’t be surprised if the commentators mentioned it during the show tonight. But there was a difference between wrestling a match with Matt next week and accompanying the Young Bucks for their match against Jurassic Express. There was a big difference.

“There’s a difference, and you know there is,” she softly insisted. “I’m not going out there with you.”

She kept her gaze turned anxiously away from him. Ever since their talk at that little café two days ago, a nagging voice in the back of her head had kept worrying that, even though Matt had said he didn’t want to push her, he would only wait so long for her to get over Adam. Now, she worried he’d take her resistance the wrong way. But she had her reasons—completely valid reasons. She didn’t want people to assume things about their relationship; she didn’t want to invite their criticism and judgment. But, more than that, she didn’t want to rub her budding relationship with Matt in Adam’s face—and especially not tonight. He had a tag title match he needed to focus on tonight.

“Callie,” Matt said. The soft urgency in his voice beckoned her to look at him. “It’s fine. I was only joking.”

She gave him a tight smile. She believed him… but part of her still worried.

He leaned over and gave her a kiss. “Speaking of the match… I should go get ready. You can hang out here if you want.”

Her brow furrowed at him as he got up from the couch. “By myself? I’m not an EVP.”

“No… but you’re sleeping with one.”

He smirked. She scowled. He let out a laugh and bent over to give her another kiss. “I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come back to the locker room. I’m sure Nick’s changing now, too.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He gave her a wink and went out the door. And as it clicked shut behind him, that little voice in the back of her head nagged at her again.

* * * * * * * * * *

There was an undeniable electricity in the air—a big fight feel. Because it was a big fight: Kenny Omega and Hangman Adam Page vs. FTR for the AEW World Tag Team Championship. And Alex was almost certain she was more nervous than the people who were actually fighting.

Her hands were clammy as she walked through the halls to the Best Friends locker room. She wanted to walk with Adam to meet Kenny, so she could wish them both good luck before they headed to Gorilla. She wanted to stay out of their way as much as possible. She prayed they were on the same page tonight.

She entered the locker room just as Adam stood from his seat. He glanced at her as he grabbed his championship. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Just thought I’d go with you to meet Kenny,” she answered. She curiously looked him over. He was wearing black and white tights designed to look like chaps instead of his usual trunks. “New gear?”

He glanced down at himself and shrugged. “Yeah. Big pay-per-view match, I figured why not.”

She nodded. “I like it.”

A smile pulled at his lips. But it disappeared fast. “Well, I was just about to head to his locker room.”

She nodded again, and they went back out the door. She saw him look at her out of the corner of her eye as they walked. “Are you watching with the guys?” he asked.

“Yeah. They’re in one of the lounges with Jurassic Express and a few others.” She drew in a breath. “I might see if I can get a drink before I head back there.”

He gave a wry laugh. “That nervous?”

She looked up at him. “Aren’t you?”

His eyes turned contemplative. “I’m nervous, yeah. But not necessarily about losing the titles.”

Alex frowned. She wasn’t as nervous about them losing the titles as she was about other things, either.

They arrived at The Elite’s locker room. Adam raised a fist and knocked. Half a minute passed before Kenny answered, dressed in his usual gear, his AEW Tag Team Championship already around his waist. He smiled when he saw Alex.

“Hey. You coming up there with us?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t want to get in your way. I just wanted to wish you good luck before you went up there.”

He flashed a cocky grin. “I don’t need it.”

Alex rolled her eyes. I—not we. Again. She tried to ignore it just like she had earlier. “Well, kick their asses, then.” She reached up and kissed him, tender but quick. She didn’t want to do too much in front of Adam. Kenny smirked again as she pulled away.

“You know I will.”

She gave him a nervous smile, and then she turned to Adam. She stood on her toes and gave him a hug. He momentarily stiffened before he returned it. “Good luck,” she said.

“Thanks.”

She unwound her arms from around him and stepped back. “I’ll see you after,” she said to Kenny, and with a parting glance she retreated back down the hall, her stomach in knots. She half-wanted to find somewhere to watch the match alone, in the interest of self-preservation. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t take it so hard if she watched with her friends. Either way, she kept walking toward the lounge; and when she arrived and saw Trent opening up a bottle of red wine, she made a beeline for him.

“Wine?” she charged. Alcohol was alcohol, but still.

He gave her a look. “We’re classy, Alex. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”

“A few hundred more,” she quipped. It earned a grin. He grabbed a glass and gave her a healthy pour. She took a long sip as she moved to one of the couches and sat down next to Chuck. He gave her a sympathetic smile.

“How you feeling?”

She laughed into her glass. “Like I’m gonna need a whole bottle to myself.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex had been joking—but the more she watched, the more she thought she probably would need a whole bottle to herself to get through this match.

Every minute brought with it a fresh wave of anxiety. Her entire body had tensed when the match had nearly started with Kenny and Cash, only for her heart to drop into her stomach when Adam had called to start it off instead, asking Kenny, “Do you trust me?” She didn’t know what Kenny had said in return—his back had been to the camera. When the match finally got underway, Adam had locked up with Cash like he wanted to murder him. He’d gone after him so aggressively that Dax had jumped in to intervene, and then Kenny had, too, obviously worried that Adam’s emotions were running away with him. He was proven right when Adam nearly swung on him. They’d worked through it… but Dax and Cash were firing on all cylinders. They’d managed to isolate Adam first and then Kenny, punishing them each in turn. And even when Adam and Kenny were able to pick up the pace and work together, it had been painfully obvious over the last fifteen minutes that, despite being the champions, they weren’t the tag team specialists in the match. FTR were.

Kenny and Cash were the legal men now. Adam was somewhere outside the ring, out of commission after Cash had shoved him off the ring apron and sent him flying into the guard railing. Kenny had hit a Tiger Driver ’98 and gone for the cover, but Cash had kicked out at two and dragged himself to the ropes. But Kenny didn’t give him much of a chance to recoup. He charged at the opposite ropes, rebounded, and nailed Cash with a V-Trigger to the side of the head. Then he picked him up on his shoulders. He was setting up the One-Winged Angel. Alex held her breath and grabbed Chuck’s knee—but Cash quickly got out of his hold.

“You want a refill?” Chuck asked.

She just nodded and handed him her glass, keeping her eyes glued on the TV. Cash shoved Kenny into the corner and charged, but Kenny dodged and reversed, pushing Cash into the corner. Dax made a hot tag. Kenny charged again, going for another V-Trigger—but Cash moved out of the way at the last second. Kenny’s knee rammed hard into the turnbuckle.

“Fuck,” Alex cursed under breath.

Chuck returned with her wine. She thanked him and immediately took a drink; and then nearly choked on it when she saw Cash swing Kenny’s leg through the ropes and Dax grab his ankle for a vicious dragon screw leg whip.

“You alright?” Chuck asked.

Alex nodded even though she wasn’t. Cash spun Kenny around and hit another dragon screw. And then Dax slid into the ring and latched on an inverted figure four leg lock.

“Shit,” Trent said from the other side of Chuck. Chuck elbowed him. Alex’s stomach dropped. That was the exact move Dax had used on Chuck to beat Best Friends in the tag team gauntlet match.

Dax grabbed the ropes for leverage, but the referee didn’t see it. Kenny did his best to stay up on his shoulder in order to keep the pressure off his knee. But he still looked like he was agony.

“And remember, this is how they made Chuck Taylor tap out in order to punch their ticket into this match,” Excalibur commented.

“Thanks for the reminder, Excalibur!” Chuck shouted at the TV, causing a few people in the room to laugh. Alex wasn’t one of them. She didn’t breathe again until Kenny managed to reach the ropes, forcing Dax to break the hold.

Kenny laid on the mat, nursing his knee—but Dax got right back on him. He grabbed his leg and dropped a few elbows on his knee before he put all his bodyweight on his thigh and bent Kenny’s leg at an unnatural angle around his torso. Kenny grabbed at his head, his arm, anything to try to get out of the hold; but Dax just got up, dragged him to the ropes, draped his ankle across it, and smashed himself down hard onto his leg. Alex worried at her lip. Adam was back up on the ring apron now, but Kenny was nowhere near him.

Dax tagged in Cash. Cash jumped to the floor and held Kenny’s ankle across the rope so that Dax could throw all his bodyweight down onto his leg one more time before they switched. He slid into the ring and stomped Kenny’s head, making Alex scowl; but then Kenny sat up and rolled under the ropes to the floor. He limped over to the guard railing and latched onto it, doing his best to keep himself upright.

Alex felt her chest start to tighten. She felt so helpless. All she could do was take another drink.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie was starting to regret watching the tag title match with Matt and Nick. They were all cheering for the same team—but it was obvious that Matt and Nick expected Kenny to do all the work. It irked her. So when Adam had finally tagged in and started clearing house, she couldn’t help but feel a little vindicated.

She nervously watched as he ascended a turnbuckle, knowing immediately that he was going for a moonsault. She both loved and hated that move; she loved seeing it, but it always scared her when he did it. But then, he didn’t do a moonsault. Tully urged Cash and Dax to come to the other side of the turnbuckle—and so Adam pivoted and did a senton instead.

“Tremendous improvisation there by Hangman Adam Page,” Excalibur stated. Callie smiled to herself. But Matt pursed his lips.

“More like unnecessary risk,” he commented.

It was a struggle for Callie not to roll her eyes. Matt and Nick were arguably the biggest daredevils in the entire company. Either of them would have done the same exact thing.

Back in the ring, Adam went for the cover on Cash—but he kicked out at two. After they both got to their feet, they traded blows in the middle of the ring before Cash attempted another swinging DDT; Dax made another blind tag as he did. But Adam blocked the move and hit Dax with a back elbow, knocking him to the floor. He and Cash jockeyed for position until Adam gained control and drove him toward the ropes; but Dax hopped back up onto the apron and hit Adam with a forearm. He dove into the ring and covered him. Adam kicked out at two.

“They’re deadly with those blind tags, man,” Nick said.

Both Matt and Callie kept quiet as they watched Cash and Dax ascend the turnbuckles. They jumped simultaneously and hit Adam with tandem diving headbutts. Cash was the legal man again and he hooked Adam’s leg. That time, Kenny dove in and broke up the pin attempt. Callie half-expected a smart-ass comment from Matt. Thankfully, he didn’t make one.

Kenny and Dax were battling on the ring apron now. Each of them tried to suplex the other, but each attempt was blocked, until Dax ended up back inside the ring, his head still locked underneath Kenny’s arm and vice versa. But then, suddenly, Cash charged and launched himself over the ropes and flipped to the floor. He grabbed Kenny and picked him up on his shoulders, and Dax jumped off the ring apron and hit him with a diving bulldog to the floor.

Matt and Nick expelled twin breaths of exasperation. Callie’s mouth went dry. She wiped her hands on her jeans and got up from the couch to cross the room and grab a water bottle from the mini fridge. She opened it and took a long gulp. By the time she looked back at the TV, Cash was back in the ring with Adam. Adam tried to hit him with a short-arm lariat, but Cash reversed it and landed a forearm to the back of the head. Then he lifted Adam up on his shoulders. He walked over to FTR’s corner and tagged in Dax. Dax climbed the turnbuckle and hit Adam with a diving bulldog to match Kenny’s. He went for yet another cover, but Adam powered out.

“Hangman needs to tag in Kenny,” Matt said.

Callie shot him a look. “Kenny’s not even in their corner!” she argued, motioning to where he’d collapsed against the ring apron. Matt ignored her.  

Dax pulled Adam up by the hair and reached out to tag in Cash. Cash climbed the turnbuckle again—but Kenny jumped up onto the apron and pushed him off balance. Meanwhile in the ring, Adam reversed Dax’s hold and dumped him over the ropes onto the floor. Cash tried to get back into position atop the turnbuckle; but before he could, Adam jumped up onto the second rope, picked him up, and hit a lungbuster suplex into the middle of the ring. Callie held her breath as he went for the pin—but Cash somehow managed to kick out.

“Fuck,” she breathed. She walked over to the couch and sat back down next to Matt, further away than she’d been before.

Kenny yelled something at Adam from outside the ring. Adam beckoned him. “Last Call!” he shouted. Callie tensed. She didn’t have a good feeling about this.

Kenny got into the ring while Adam went out onto the ring apron. Cash struggled to get up from his knees in the middle of the canvas. Kenny picked him up by his hair and held him by the arms. Adam flipped over the ropes and careened toward them, on-target for a hard Buckshot Lariat—but Cash ducked. Callie’s hand flew to her mouth; he’d nearly hit Kenny instead. And then, disaster. Adam grabbed Cash. Kenny charged, aiming to land a V-Trigger. But Cash pulled free at the last second, and Kenny’s knee collided with Adam’s jaw with an audible smack!

“Fuck!” Matt cursed.

Kenny tried to catch Adam, but Cash hit him with a chop block to the back of his injured knee and they both fell to the Matt. Kenny reached out and grabbed ahold of the fringe on Adam’s tights, pulling and jerking, trying to revive him. When that didn’t work, he smacked his leg. But Adam was completely out of it.

Cash pulled Adam away from Kenny and then hit Kenny with a basement dropkick, sending him rolling into the corner. He jumped up and tagged in Dax. Dax climbed the turnbuckle while Cash picked up Adam, upside down. Dax jumped, and they hit Adam with a perfect Mind Breaker. Dax went for the pin, grinning wickedly at Kenny as he tried to crawl toward him. He anticipated a three-count.

But Adam got his shoulder up at two.

“Holy shit,” Nick leaned eagerly forward on his knees. Matt remained quiet.

But Cash and Dax didn’t waste any time. Cash battled Kenny and shoved him under the ropes to the floor while Dax dragged Adam back onto his feet. Cash tagged in and ascended the turnbuckle. Dax picked up Adam. Cash jumped, delivering another Mind Breaker. He pinned Adam. Dax intercepted Kenny as he tried to dive through the ropes, but he didn’t need to. That time, Adam didn’t kick out.

Disbelief and dread consumed Callie as FTR’s music started to play. The crowd was mostly silent as Justin Roberts’s voice echoed throughout the arena. “The winners of this match, and new AEW World Tag Team Champions: F—T—R!”

Matt pushed himself up. “Come on, let’s go,” he said to Nick.

Callie looked up at him in confusion. “What’re you gonna do?”

He shot her a look over his shoulder. “Try to talk Kenny down,” he returned, and then they both exited, leaving her alone in the locker room.

She stared at the door, stunned, unsure what to do. She looked back at the TV. FTR hoisted the titles high above their heads while Tully brought them two cans of beer. She expected them to crack them open and drink in celebration—but they didn’t. Instead, they set the beers next to Adam, who still laid clutching his head on the mat, as if to toast him. Thanks, bud, we couldn’t have done it without you.

She kept watching as they continued to celebrate, waiting for Matt and Nick to burst out from the tunnels. But they never did. Soon, FTR left, and the former champions were left alone. Adam leaned against the ropes, still not quite all there—and Kenny stood in the middle of the ring, a small folding table in his hands.

Callie’s breath hitched in her throat. Kenny held the table up, gripping it hard, an angry, contemplative look in his eyes. Seconds passed like minutes. And then, he tossed the table aside. Relief flooded her; but it was premature. Adam stumbled toward Kenny, and instead of catching him, Kenny moved out of the way and let him collapse face-first to the mat like a felled tree.

She would have preferred that he hit him with the table.

“Where the fuck are Matt and Nick?” she said out loud. Kenny gazed down at Adam’s prone form, a look of quiet disgust on his face. He exited the ring and stalked up the entrance ramp. He paused on the stage to give Adam one last hard look, and then he turned and walked through the tunnel.

The camera stayed on him as he moved swiftly through Gorilla and toward backstage. Matt and Nick stood waiting for him in the interview area. Kenny started yelling.

“Did you see that? Did you see that there? After everything I did!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Matt tried to say; but Kenny pushed through them and kept walking.

“I’m done. We’re done. Let’s go.”

Callie’s eyes widened as she continued to watch. Matt turned and followed after Kenny without hesitation. Nick was more hesitant, but he followed, too.

Kenny and Matt continued to talk, but Callie couldn’t understand what they were saying as the commentators tried to figure out what was happening. They moved into the parking lot and Kenny pointed toward a waiting SUV. “I’m done. Are you guys coming with me?”

“Oh fuck no,” Callie muttered.

Matt continued to try to talk him down, but he didn’t try to stop him from walking. “Let’s sit down and talk about what’s going on right now. I know it’s…” he trailed off, unsure what to say.

“It’s time for a clean split… a clean break,” Kenny said. “Let’s go back to the way things were.”

They reached the SUV. He finally stopped and looked back at Matt and Nick. “Are you coming with me or not? It’s up to you—you can’t go back on this.”

Neither of them answered. Kenny didn’t have the patience for it.

“Okay, think about it—think about it. I’ll see you guys.” He looked at the driver. “Get in the car! We’re going,” he ordered. And then he got in the backseat of the SUV, slammed the door, and drove off, leaving Matt and Nick—and everyone else—stunned and confused.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex walked on shaky legs through the hotel lobby, pulling her suitcase behind her. She reached the elevators and punched the up button, angry. She felt like a tea kettle ready to burst; and, honestly, she was afraid of what she might do when she saw Kenny.

She’d left the arena as quickly as she could after the end of the tag match. Gone back to the locker room, packed up her shit, and called an Uber, apologizing to Orange on the way out for not staying for his match against Chris Jericho. There was no way she could stay there a second longer after what Kenny had done.

The elevator carried her to their floor. He’d booked the same room he always did. She stepped off the elevator and walked swiftly down the hall. When she reached the room, she banged hard on the door. Kenny answered a few seconds later, apparently fresh out of the shower, wearing just a pair of gym shorts.

“Hey, baby,” he said—but Alex pushed past him into the room. He shut the door and followed her inside. “Look, I’m sorry for—"

Crack!

Alex whirled around and slapped him hard across the face, cutting him off mid-sentence. She’d hit him hard enough that it turned his head, hard enough that her hand immediately stung. Kenny touched his fingers to his face. He gave a short, wry laugh.

“I guess I deserve that.”

“You’re fucking right you do,” she bit. “You lied to me, Kenny. You told me you would fix things with Adam and you just left him out there. You left the whole fucking arena.”

He rolled his eyes. Alex’s hand itched to slap him again. “Well what would you have liked me to do, Alex?” he asked. “Hm? Should I have caught him and told him that everything would be alright? Should I have said, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get the titles back, bud!’ Is that what I should’ve done?”

“You shouldn’t have just left him and run out of the arena!”

“Well I did, because I’m done with him!”

Alex went momentarily dizzy. “What?” she breathed. “How can you say—”

“Because I’m done with being a tag team wrestler, Alex!” he proclaimed. “I’m done with being a drunken cowboy’s sidekick! I don’t want that! That’s not who I am! That’s not what I came to AEW to do! I don’t need to tell you that! You know that.”

He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. Alex could feel it radiating off of him like heat. It shocked her, but she knew she needed to just listen.

“It was fun with Hangman while it lasted,” he went on. “I’m glad we got to be tag team champions together; I am. But I’m past that now. It’s time for me to be Kenny Omega now. It’s time for me to be the guy that everyone’s wanted and expected from day one of Dynamite.”

Alex scoffed. “What guy? The Cleaner?”

“Yeah,” he bluntly returned. “Exactly that guy. Isn’t that the guy you wanted when we first got involved? The Cleaner?”

Her breath hitched in her throat. There was nothing she could say to that—it was true. She’d never met Kenny prior to AEW. She just knew him as most of the world did: The Best Bout Machine, the leader of Bullet Club, the Cleaner, Kenny-fucking-Omega. His reputation preceded him. It intrigued her. It attracted her. It made her want to get to know him once she had the chance. And then she fell in love with him, the real him. But the thought of him being that guy in AEW… with her… she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that that intrigued her, too.

He stepped closer. Alex didn’t move. He took her by the hips and pulled her against him; a pleasant tingle danced up her spine at his touch. As upset with him as she was, she couldn’t help the way her body reacted to him.

“I know you’re angry,” he said, his voice softening. “And I’m sorry it happened this way… but we both know it would’ve happened eventually. I can’t keep tagging with Adam to get what I want. And what I want is the AEW World Championship… and you by my side when I get it.”

Alex’s stomach did a flip. But her brow lowered, stubborn. “And what makes you think I want to be by your side when you get it?”

He gave a breathy laugh. “Come on, don’t be ridiculous. You know you’re my girl.”

There it was again, that cocky grin. But Alex didn’t argue or pull away. She just gazed up at him, her chest rising and falling with her breath, heart racing. She wanted to believe he was wrong; but she knew he wasn’t. She knew she’d go around and around this carousel with Kenny until it made her sick. He pushed her to the edge; he drove her insane; he made her do things that she never thought she’d do in a million lifetimes. He was exhilarating and infuriating and terrifying and intoxicating all at once. And every time she thought she’d sobered up she would always fall right back into him. It might take a week, or a month, or a year—but it was inevitable.

“Aren’t you, baby?” He cupped her jaw in his hand. She leaned into his touch. He ran his thumb over her mouth. Her eyes fell closed, kissing it, and then he parted her lips and slipped it inside her mouth. She sucked as he moved it in and out, slow. She bit down gently and opened her eyes. He looked like he wanted to ravage her—and she wanted to let him.

He pulled his thumb from her mouth and picked her up. She wrapped her legs tight around his waist and kissed him as he walked her blindly to the bed, grabbing at his curls, needing to taste him, feel him, get lost in him. She was still upset with him for what he’d done to Adam; of course she was. But she was in love with him. She couldn’t help that.

[is-it-art-tho]

Summary: After a sudden explosion leaves Tim seriously injured, he’s forced to rely on his brothers to get him out of the jam.

The first thing Tim became aware of was the sound of someone screaming. No, not screaming, he realized. It only felt that way because the voice was so close. This person was panting, saying the same thing over and over, anxious and hurried. Tim struggled to make sense of the words, but his thoughts came and went like confetti on a breeze, quick and fleeting and impossible to hang on to.

The next things he became aware of were hands and arms around him, holding him, and a rhythmic jostling sensation. Someone must’ve been carrying him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been carried anywhere. For some reason the thought almost made him laugh. He was seventeen, after all. Practically a man.

“He’s smiling,” a young voice snapped. The first words Tim had been able to hear clearly. “Why is he smiling?”

“Calm down.” The second voice was older, more steady, but the words seemed to come through clenched teeth.

Finally the world around him faded into view. Tim was staring blearily up at Dick’s jaw as they hurried… somewhere. He couldn’t remember. Dick was sweating and covered in scrapes and bruises. A nasty gash at his hairline was bleeding heavily, forcing him to run with one eye closed.

“You’re… bleeding…” Tim croaked.

Dick looked down at him, shocked. A moment later, Damian popped into view. Half of Damian’s mask was missing; one arm was folded protectively into his chest. They both looked terrible. Tim tried to put the pieces together, to remember how they’d gotten like this, but the confetti in his mind swirled impossibly fast, offering only fragments. An abandoned office building. A hostage. Tim running towards something…

“Just relax,” Dick said firmly, apparently reading the growing frustration and anxiety on Tim’s face. “You’re gonna be okay.”

You’re gonna be okay. That’s what Tim had been hearing earlier – the phrase he’d kept hearing over and over again. But it wasn’t himself that he was worried about.

“Wait,” Damian said suddenly, stopping with his finger to his ear. “What do you mean we can’t…” He paused. Tim realized he was talking to Oracle. “Well then we’ll just move it!” Damian shouted. Then another pause as he listened before,

“Fine!”

When Damian didn’t immediately offer an explanation, Dick asked “What is it?”

“We can’t go out this way,” he said, indicating the stairwell they were standing at. Tim noticed that Damian was determinedly looking away from them. His exposed eye glistened with frustrated tears as his hand curled into a fist at his side. For all his posturing and combat experience, he was still just a child. Tim decided to try remember that more often.

“Why not?” Dick pressed.

“It’s blocked.”

“Okay.” Dick took a steadying breath. “Then we’ll just have to find another way. What did Oracle say?”

Damian ground his teeth. “Nothing useful,” he spat.

“Damian–”

“She said to wait, Grayson! Is that what you wanted hear? She told us to ‘stand by.’” Damian never used their real names in the field. He caught himself a moment later, recanting. “I mean Nightwing,” he murmured.

“Did you tell her about…?”

Damian just nodded. Dick cursed under his breath.

“What’s… the big deal,” Tim asked. His voice sounded odd. It was weak and thin. He tried to clear his throat. “You guys got dates or something?”

Dick and Damian just stared at him, horrified and anxious. It took Tim a little longer than it should have to realize that they weren’t upset because they had to wait. They were worried about him. 

“I’m fine,” he added hoarsely. “Really. You don’t have to keep carrying me.”

Tim started to climb out of Dick’s grasp, but Dick held tighter. “Tim, don’t–” he began and in that moment, Tim saw it. The reason Damian and Dick had been so stressed. The reason neither of them could stand the idea of waiting even a second longer to get out. The reason Tim had found himself wavering on the edge of consciousness since the moment he’d woken up. The reason, he assumed, he’d passed out in the first place.

“Tim…” Dick said slowly, carefully. Like an officer trying to talk someone down. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Damian just stared, wide eyed.

And Tim realized they were both waiting for him to react, probably to freak out. But really as he stared down at himself, he just felt utterly confused. What he was looking at didn’t make any sense. The confetti of his thoughts kicked up again, sending images flashing through his mind.

A hostage.

A gas leak.

Tim running towards the kidnapper.

A gun he hadn’t noticed before.

A single shot.

An explosion.

An explosion, he thought. It was starting to make sense now. He looked at their surroundings as if for the first time. The entire floor looked like a warzone. Rubble everywhere, the ceiling missing, exposing the entirety of the floor above them.

“I fell…” Tim whispered. He remembered the explosion, the floor giving out beneath him. So suddenly he didn’t have time to think, to try to slow his decent.

Dick just nodded.

Tim returned his gaze to the wood fragment protruding from his abdomen, realizing for the first time how cold and feverish he felt, how the smell of blood mingled with the dust and smoke on the air to create a sickening perfume. How no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t slow his breathing. “I fell,” he whispered again between gasps.

“He’s going into shock,” Damian said.

“I know.”

Their voices began to swirl together and morph, like a song being played backwards in slow motion. The world rolled nauseatingly around him and, without warning, Tim threw his head to the side and vomited an alarming mixture of blood and saliva. And finally, Tim felt it.

The pain.

He had experienced a lot of injuries in his short life, ranging in severity. Broken bones, gun shots, even nearly lost a finger once in an unfortunate skiing incident. But the thing about pain is that after a while, memories of pain never quite do it justice. Sure you can remember that something hurt, but you’re never quite going to remember exactly how bad it really was.

So now, if you’d asked Tim if he’d ever felt anything like this before, he would’ve said no. Whether or not that was entirely true would be uncertain, but as fire bloomed out from the center of his stomach and raced through his veins, as his body convulsed and writhed involuntarily, as his head snapped back and a scream raked itself free from his throat, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

Dick cursed again. “He’s bleeding too much.”

“I thought you stitched him up!”

“I did the best I could with what we have,” Dick explained as Tim’s screams gave way to gritted cries. He tried to muffle the sounds in Dick’s chest.

“I know, buddy.” Dick’s voice was tight. Tim felt himself being lowered gently to the floor. He could barely see through his tears, but he saw Dick lean into view, holding something that looked like a pen. “Tim. I need you to take a deep breath, all right? This is gonna get a little rough, but we’re gonna have to cauterize it to stop the bleeding.”

Damian shoved something into Tim’s mouth, saying, “Bite down on this.” Then he disappeared from view again, and Tim felt his wrists being bound and tied to something above his head so that he couldn’t move his arms.

As his uniform was cut away to expose the wound, Tim tried to protest.

I’m all right! he tried to scream. I’m all right! Please don’t!

But his cries were muffled by the makeshift bite guard. Dick just looked at him apologetically then aimed the pen at his wound. A small beam of light appeared from the tip and the next thing Tim felt was white hot pain, centered on a single point in his abdomen, as if the entire sun hand shrunk down to size of a pinprick and lodged itself in his body.

Tim screamed against the object in his mouth, crying and thrashing, but his arms remained immobile, tied to whatever was above him. Meanwhile Damian struggled to keep his legs pinned with only one good arm.

“Damian,” Dick muttered, his eye focused on his work. The other was still occluded with blood.

“I’m trying!” Damian shot back. As time passed, the smell of burning flesh filled the space.

Tim’s flesh.

The thought sent another wave of nausea rolling through him.

“There,” Dick said at last, sitting back with a sigh. “That should keep your guts in at least until we can get you home. You did good, Tim.”

Tim tried to nod, tried to respond at all, but suddenly his head felt incredibly heavy. It bobbled as he tried to hold it up, tried to keep his eyes open and focused as everything in him seemed to be telling him to let go.

“Tim?” Dick asked, getting closer. “Tim, you gotta keep your eyes open.”

I am, Tim said. Or at least, that’s what he meant to say before everything went dark.

****

Tim dreamt of plane rides and gauze. He felt hands all around him, smelled the sharp tang of antibiotics and disinfectants. Every once in a while he’d hear a familiar voice or two, asking him to do something, to swallow some pill or bitter medicine. He always obliged, or at least he thought he did. He couldn’t be sure. Everything was a blur of moments and faces.

Occasionally he’d dream of fire and blood. Of pain so intense he thought he might die. In those dreams, hands always came to hold him down, he’d feel a prick in his arm, then sink again into blissful emptiness.

****

When Tim finally awoke, he found himself in his room at Wayne Manor. Morning light filtered through the curtains, a breeze blew through, filling the room with the smell of flowers and freshly mowed grass from the grounds. Tim tried to get his bearings, to parse through his dreams and memories. It wasn’t until he tossed aside the covers and saw the bandages across his abdomen that he realized that much of what he remembered had been real.

He stared at his bandages for quite some time, unable to shake the image of the shard of wood sprouting from his body like a ghastly bone. Finally, he eased his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up gingerly. The movement sent jolts of pain through him, forcing him to gasp and wince as he managed to get himself upright. He was sitting on the edge of the bed catching his breath when Damian appeared, his arm in a sling.

“Trying to escape again?” Damian asked.

“A…again?” Tim breathed. Had he tried to get up before? He couldn’t remember that at all.

“Yes, again. Granted, you never made it very far the other times.” Damian entered and leaned against the wall.

“Huh.” Tim could vaguely remember the feeling of the carpet on his face. Had he collapsed before? Judging by the expression on Damian’s face, equal parts amused and concerned, Tim didn’t think that was too far off. “How’s your arm?”

Damian rolled his eyes and scoffed, apparently exasperated by the question. Tim could imagine what he was thinking: Who the hell cares about my arm? He crossed to a corner of the room where there was a walker. “Father wanted me to make sure you didn’t go anywhere for a while without this.” He placed it front and center.

Tim blanched. The idea of using a walker to get around made him physically ill.

Reading his expression, Damian scoffed and sent it clattering across the room. “I told him it was absurd. Why would you need that thing if I’m here?” He said it spitefully, refusing to look directly at Tim all the while.

Tim grinned in spite of himself. “My thoughts exactly.”

The faintest color came into Damian’s cheeks as he joined Tim at the edge of the bed and slipped under one of his arms. With a pained grunt, Tim pushed himself onto his feet, leaning heavily on Damian’s small frame. They eased out into the hall where they found Dick, a few stitches peeking out below his hair.

“Look who’s back amongst the living,” Dick laughed, ducking under Tim’s other arm without hesitation.

Now leaning mostly on his brothers, walking wasn’t so hard. But he couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty. “You know you guys don’t have to–”

“I swear to God, Drake,” Damian said, silencing him instantly. Tim smirked. Fair enough.

“So uh,” he said, still grinning. “Which one of you is gonna help me use the bathroom?”

[c4pricornc4ts]

The Best Prank - SBI One-Shot

This idea is by @bellfort3 ! Thank you for letting me take it. 

Summary:  He’d ask his mom if he could just quickly tweet something funny about him being grounded but really, isn’t a break from Tommy what everyone wants? Even his own fans used to find him annoying. Maybe everyone’s happy he’s gone. 

So he doesn’t ask. 

Tommy is tilting his head back in one of the uncomfortable leather seats outside the principal's office yet again this semester. He’s holding an already very bloody tissue up to his nose and swinging his legs while waiting for his mom to be interrupted in the middle of work yet again to come and take him home. 

He really tried not to get in another fight after how mad his mom was last time, but there were these asshole upperclassmen who just really deserved it for how much of an asshole they are to everyone, but especially him. 

He knew his mom would be livid, and he was completely right. He eyes her warily as she steps in the office and starts switching between apologizing profusely to the principal and lecturing him. The principal just hands her a paper to sign and tells them both very seriously that if he gets in one more fight he’s expelled. 

Tommy’s up getting another tissue when she all but drags him out the office door by his coat. 

“It’s really not that big of a deal!” He whines as she checks him over, before letting him get in the car. 

She leans her forehead against the steering wheel and sighs, gripping it tightly. “Not a big deal? Tom you can’t just get in fights with people! You heard your principal, one more and you’re out.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just let them be assholes?” He snapped at her, though he sounded less angry and more nasally from the tissue blocking his nose. 

“Go tell a goddamn teacher! I’m starting to think you like getting your nose broken.” 

“They don’t do shit!” 

His mom turns to him, he looks away. “Your grades are dropping, you’ve been in a total of three fights just this semester and now you’re snapping at me? What’s gotten into you?” 

“I’m sorry mom.” He mumbles. He does feel kind of bad about it all. But mostly he just wants the  conversation to end. 

“You’ve really left me no choice here you know.” She takes his phone out of his backpack. “No phone for a week, and no streaming either. I’m unplugging the wifi. You need to do some self reflection.” 

“Oh come on now, a whole week? It’s just a bloody nose it’s not like anybody died!” This was completely unfair. Streaming was his job, and how on earth will his friends know where he went? 

“You’ll thank me when you’re not repeating sophomore year.” She starts the car, focusing on the road now. Tommy makes no move to speak to her again not wanting to make anything worse. 

After he’s caught up on his school work it’s almost 8pm. He goes to sit in front of his computer, excited to just hang out with whoever was online and deflates in his seat when all he can do is play that stupid no internet dinosaur game. 

Even though it’s a stupid game he still plays it for at least an hour before giving up and just getting ready for bed. At least he had school tomorrow to keep him distracted. 

School goes by quickly, he complains to his friends about being grounded and over exaggerates the fight he was in and all his teachers give him looks when they see his bruised face but smile when he turns in his late work. 

He opens his front door and starts to head upstairs, preparing to stream before just leaning against the wall and sighing when he remembers his punishment. He has no homework though so really what was he supposed to do? 

Blue eyes look at the cookie mix left on the counter and Tommy makes a plan. He changes out of his school uniform and makes sure to give his mom a pointed look before running back to the kitchen. 

He reads the back of the box, leaning against the counter; 2 eggs, ½ cup of water, and ⅓ cup of olive oil. It sounds easy enough. The only trouble he has is trying to crack the eggs without getting any shells in the bowl. He thinks about when he met up with his friends and how Wilbur and Phil made it a competition to see which of the two could crack an egg with one hand the cleanest. 

Tommy stares at the unmixed bowl, his hands covered in baking ingredients, wondering if any of his online friends missed him. They always seem relieved he’s not around when they stream and Tommy tries to remember they’re talking about his character, but it hurts. There’s only so many times he can hear his pseudo family call him annoying and a problem before it starts to feel more personal. 

It hurt, he always played it off so well on stream but after streams where they were particularly rude to him he always just felt drained. 

He’d ask his mom if he could just quickly tweet something funny about him being grounded but really, isn’t a break from Tommy what everyone wants? Even his own fans used to find him annoying. Maybe everyone’s happy he’s gone. 

So he doesn’t ask. 

Suddenly, he doesn’t want to finish his baking project. He really just wants to lie down and sleep for the week. But he does, though it feels a lot less exciting than it did at first. 

He takes the cookies out of the oven with his bare hands yelling about how that’s his least favorite part before turning around and coming face to face with his very confused mom holding an oven mitt. 

He runs his hands under some cold water and takes a few cookies up to his room, leaving the rest out. He closes the door and plays some minecraft in single player for a while, walking into the house he and Tubbo had built together when his friend had visited. 

Tubbo doesn’t hate him, he liked Tubbo. 

It’s only his fourth day of no internet and Tommy is incredibly bored. He had done just about everything he could think of to do. He feels bad for kids who grew up like this because honestly, how did they do it? 

He supposes it’s different when you don’t rely on the internet for your job, or if you just never knew it was a thing. If he was born before the internet maybe he would write that book he always wanted to write. 

Tommy is staring at a book on knitting and fumbling around the two needles, trying to make his weekend at least somewhat productive. The tv in the living room is turned down and Tommy curls up on the end of the couch with a roll of green yarn.

He begins to get the hang of the whole knitting thing after three very messy rows when his mom messes up his hair, causing him to look up with a glare. 

“We’re going out, don’t you try to get on anything or it’ll be two weeks!” 

“I have ascended past the need for electronics, as you can see.” He laughs and keeps trying to tie off the fourth row. 

The door clicks shut and Tommy tosses the yarn aside and sits up. Sighing hard enough to blow his hair out of his face before flopping back down on the couch dramatically. 

He throws an arm over his eyes and resolves to just lie down for a bit, not bothering to even fix the knitting book which had landed open on the floor next to him. 

He just let’s the colors flickering from the tv wash over him for a while when the doorbell rings. He ignores it, as his parents didn’t tell him anyone would be coming by. Hoping it was just the mail. 

The person at the door starts knocking after a few moments, so Tommy begrudgingly gets up to answer. 

He really wasn’t expecting Wilbur to be standing in his front yard, checking his phone. He looked troubled, as if he was worrying it was the wrong house or something. Tommy takes a deep breath and goes to find out what Wilbur wanted. 

“Tommy! Where’ve you been? Everyone’s been so worried I decided to make a trip here.” Wilbur just let’s himself in, walking right past Tommy and into the kitchen. 

“Oh, just busy with school y’know?” He knows it’s a weak excuse, but it’s worth a shot. 

“Too busy to just send a message to someone?” Of course that didn’t work on Wilbur. Philza or Tubbo would’ve accepted that excuse in a heartbeat. But not Wilbur. 

“I thought no one would care. It’s only a week.” He opens the fridge, trying to act nonchalant about the situation. 

“Only a week? Tommy, you usually text us everyday! Of course we’re gonna notice.” 

“Notice? Yes. Care? No.” He mumbles bitterly. Freezing up right after, hand still on the fridge handle. 

“Of course we care! Wha- Why would you think we didn’t-” Tommy feels a bit bad, Wilbur sounds genuinely hurt by it. But Tommy wasn’t done. 

“You all always talk about how annoying I am, for-fucking-give me for giving you and everyone else a break.” He turns towards the older, and tries to stop his eyes from watering. Trying to tell himself he’s mad, not upset. 

“It’s all jokes Tommy, you know we don’t actually feel that way about you.” Wilbur pushes off the counter and takes a tentative step towards Tommy. Who makes sure Wilbur notices him step back. 

“What’s so funny about it? I go from school where everyone seems to hate me just to talk to more people who act like they hate me. And I’m really, really tired of it.” He falters by the end of the statement, realizing that maybe he is more than just mad. 

He knows he’s crying, his shoulders shake and his face feels hot as he looks anywhere but at Wilbur’s face. Was it so bad of him to just want people in his corner for once? Is he really such an annoyance that someone had to drive all the way to his house because he didn’t just find a way to contact any of them? 

“Oh, Tommy.” Wilbur murmurs, his voice sounds soft. And Tommy leans into his shoulder for support. He should probably just sit down, but he really just wants some comfort right now. Even if the one who made him so upset is the one he gets it from. 

Wilbur pulls him in, enveloping him in an actual hug. And Tommy can’t deny it does make him feel a bit better. 

“I’m being ridiculous, I'm sorry. I-I know you guys don’t mean it. It just- It hurts.” He’s crying again, and he really hopes Wilbur doesn’t make him stop hiding his face. 

“You’re not being ridiculous, we should’ve looked out for you better. I just assumed you were okay with it, but I never even asked you. I’m the one who’s sorry. So you take your sorry back.” 

“Sorry for being sorry.” He whispers back softly, laughing over his own joke. 

Wilbur holds him for a bit longer, and he tries to wipe his face before stepping back. 

“I’ll talk to Techno and Philza if that’s okay. I never want you to feel like I wouldn’t care if you left, I’m sure they wouldn’t want you too either.” 

“That’s- thanks, Wilbur.” 

Wilbur claps his hands together excitedly. “Now, tell me what TommyInnit does when there’s no internet to waste his time on.” 

“Wilbur you won’t believe it but I got to the point of boredom where you learn to knit. To knit, Wilbur!” He’s dragging Wilbur by the arm into the living room to show him the barely finished hat he’d started. And laughing when Wilbur fusses at him for leaving the book sprawled on the floor like it was. The moment earlier was completely forgotten. 

And if Wilbur made a tweet that night, well he’d delete it before Tommy got his phone back so really, no one gets hurt here. 

Wilbur Soot (@WilburSoot)

Tommy’s grounded LMAOO and won’t have his phone for the next few days, quick comment nice paragraphs under his latest tweet to confuse him haha, the best prank I think.