#so they join loads of clubs as an excuse to not be home most the time (tho they have to be like ‘educational’ clubs 😒)

[acent-four]

Cant believe they labelled four as ‘Pushover’ 💀

On the other hand this basically makes the bg i came up w for my 4 oc canon 👀

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Here’s chapter two. Think I’ll probably slow down writing. Appreciate y’all.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 2: I follow every little whiff

💀💀💀

You gave yourself a day off that week. Rather, the desolation of Birch allowed you an excuse to get away from your desk. An internet outage across the town had you up and wandering the main road just after noon. Your grandmother refused to join you so she was left to her true crime novel and the weekday droning of talk show hosts.

After a peek in the book shop where you picked out some used thrillers for your nan and a guilty splurge on one of Babs' pies to add to the surprise, you stopped by the diner and had some soup to warm up from the unrelenting cold. You played around on your phone as you blindly slurped from your spoon. With no available connection, you swapped candies to achieve a score high enough to get to the next round.

After another loss, you put your screen down and added some pepper to the tomato soup. You leaned your chin in your hand and peered across the road. The Asp was just diagonal from The Chipped Saucer and from your seat by the window you could see the comings and goings of the dingy bar.

You chuckled to yourself as you remembered the hundreds of comments on your video. You weren't entirely surprised that the internet cheered at the sight of a woman beating up a man in broad daylight, you'd seen much worse on the web. But many were curious and asked about how it started and about the small town alluded to in the caption.

You picked up your phone and flipped open the camera. You pointed it through the glass as one of the many bikers strutted out of the bar and down the street. You knew him, like most in town, he was the leader's right hand man. Steve Rogers. He had an odd gait, rigid with long strides, and you remember Kelly used to make fun of him when you walked home from school. That felt like forever ago.

You ended the video and dropped your phone again. You'd send it to Kelly when the outage was over. It would be a good laugh. Plus, you hadn't heard from her much since she moved to the city.

You finished your soup and paid. You went out into the street and cut around to the backstreets. You made your way back to your nans and found Pippin scratching at the front door. You stopped and scooped him up before you let yourself in.

"Don't like the snow, do ya?" You set him down and he whipped his tail before skittering off, "hey nan, I got you some stuff."

"You spend too much," she grumbled as you hung your coat and grabbed her treats.

"Only on you," you sang as you entered the front room, "sugarless blueberry pie, your fave, and some books about murder and all that freaky stuff you love."

"Hmm," she watched you put the pie and books down on the coffee table, "suppose the pie will go good with tea."

"Ah, and I suppose I'll be making that tea?" You returned.

"My arthritis…" she pouted but her grin came through.

"Yeah, yeah," you snickered as you went to the kitchen to put on the kettle, "we going black today or something lighter?"

"Put on some of the pekoe," she called back, "make a whole pot."

"Will do, ma'am," you trilled and basked in her annoyed mutter.

💀

When the internet came back, you sent of an email to inform the agency of the interruption and promised to meet your deadlines. Then you puttered around and added a caption to the video before you sent it off to Kelly; 'why he walk like that tho'. She sent a series of crying emojis back and told you to post it.

'Nah, it's a dumb joke.' You typed back.

'Saw ur last vid, ppl will eat it up,' she insisted.

'Well, got nothing else to put up. The account’s dying since no one cares about my writing.'

'DO IT.' Her words sealed your resolve and you uploaded the video with some dramatic music in the background.

The response was almost instantaneous. Several comments saying they were happy to see more and others being for another video. 'We all wanna see inside this fucked up town' one added and several latched on. Ignoring the questions of where this was, you gave a thin promise of future small town thug content. 

You turned back to your work email and opened up your draft for your next gig. You couldn't help but smile as you went over your work. You might have just found your niche.

💀

You knew your nan would lose it if she knew you were snooping around the club, so you didn’t tell her. You went down, made her breakfast, went back upstairs to do your work, then tiptoed out in the late afternoon to poke around town for something to upload. Birch was so dull when you lived there but to those outside, it was a novelty you were all too eager to provide.

You got more videos of the bikers; some revving their bikes, others arguing, but there was nothing overly usable. You were getting bored of it until the man himself walked out of the bar. You record the man’s glower expression as he marched down the sidewalk and turned off just down the way.

‘His name is Bucket… wtf?!’ you keyed in and snorted as you waited for it to load to your account.

Still, there was nothing special going on, like always in Birch, and your grandmother was bound to get suspicious if you kept sneaking around. You went back and hid your phone before she could bitch about it. You cooked her dinner and sat with her as your thoughts swung between work and your TikTok.

You went to bed but couldn’t sleep. You ended up watching YouTube on your phone as the windows shook with the night winds. It wasn’t until the darkness began to glow that you were roused from the cocoon of your comforter. You looked out and saw smoke coming from the main road.

You didn’t think before you pulled on your jeans and shoved your feet into your slipper, unconcerned about them soaking through as you barreled down the stairs, the sleeves of your hoodie only half on. The back door bounced behind you and you crunched down into the snow and clamored past the row of lifeless houses. 

You were out of breath as you got to the end of the path and rounded the diner to gape over at the burning garage. You got closer as the line of bikers stood in their leather with breath puffing before them in the frigid night. You stepped back into the shadow of the brick façade of the realty office and swiped your camera open.

Your hands shook and you struggled to steady the image on the screen as the mechanic woman raged in only her tee shirt. You didn’t quite understand what was going on; only that her garage was up in smoke and then men were doing nothing to smother it. She swung at the dark haired man and spat at several others; “cowards”... “fuck all of you!”

You gulped and held your breath as she was dragged away by the large redheaded henchman of the slender outsider. She fought for a moment before she was flung over his shoulder and the biker followed their leader back to The Asp. You sidled in between the building and hid until the voices faded into the wind.

Well, that would be a hell of a video. It might even go viral.

💀

Your phone did not stop. You almost felt bad as you saw the screen limn the edges of your cell as you left it face down on the little table beside the couch. Your nan sat in her rocking chair talking away on her corded phone to Linette from down the road. You suspected that every other person in town was gossiping about the same thing; the fire.

You finished your coffee and rubbed your eyes as you checked the time and ignored the pulsing notifications. It was too much to keep up with.

Your grandmother hung up and sighed, “can’t believe it. You hear?”

“Hear what?” you pretended ignorance.

“That old garage burned down. The one with the lady,” she said, “pity. When I was a girl, that place was a salon. Ma used to take us there to get our hair cut. The barber would give us wrapped candies and pretend to cut himself with his scissors.”

“Oh? It burned down?” you weren’t sure you were very convincing but you also could just say you saw it happen.

“Yep, no one really can say. You know, maybe she was welding or some rag caught, but I bet my money on those bikers,” she sneered.

“Good thing you’re poor,” you kidded, “and why the bikers?”

“Oh, well, you know Kimmy, Linette’s girl, works down at the diner and she saw that mechanic arguing with one of those strangers, the ones dealing with the club men. Well, it’s no coincidence that trouble follows those leather jackets around,” she rocked as she nodded knowingly, “oh, one of the boys I knew back in the day, he was found burnt up with his bike. They said the tank blew… well, I saw it and that tank was pristine.”

“Nan,” you gasped, “you… Jesus.”

“Well, things don’t change in Birch, we just get older,” she continued, “when you’re young, everything seems new but then you age and it’s all just the same.”

“Wow, how… inspiring,” you said dryly.

“Girlie, you gotta be careful,” she intoned, “that fire, that’s a lesson to all the women in this town. To everyone. You don’t cross the Commandos.”

“I don’t think anyone--”

“That’s another thing, there has never been a shortage of stupid people, not now not then,” she girded, “those women who get tied up in that club, their lives are already done.”

You frowned and hid your phone in your pocket as you stood. You rubbed your neck and picked up your empty mug, “I should get started.”

“Mmm,” she said as she dialed the phone again, “I wonder if Fran knows yet.” 

💀

You were being really fucking stupid but peer pressure was not a logical thing. Even through a screen, you found it hard to resist the goads. So there you were, your phone in your hand as you live-streamed your walk down to The Asp. The data costs alone would make you regret it but you were caught up in the hype of you fifteen second of internet fame.

“Alright,” you stopped across the street and gave a view of the moniker with Cleopatra sultrily looking down at you, “this is it… I just gotta play it cool…” you turned the lens towards you and smiled nervously, “hopefully that dude at the front doesn’t stop me.”

Comments flicked up the bottom of the screen so fast and smilies and hearts floated up the side around your face. You crossed the screen as you turned your phone against your coat and approached the bar door. The large biker butted out his smoke and you bared your teeth nervously. He didn’t stop you as he rolled his shoulders and coughed.

You entered to the noise of classic rock and low voices, the clink of glasses and tap of chalk on marble. You glanced around and quickly swept your phone around to give a view of the patrons. You hurried over to the bar and climbed up on a stool.

“You need a drink?” the woman behind the bar scowled. She looked worn out even with her lips painted bright pink and her eyes clouded with blue shadow.

“Uh, sure, can I… can I get one pint of everything you have on tap?” you asked as you set your phone down and shrugged out of your coat. You draped it over the next stool and reposition your phone as you flipped the cam and used the built in stand on the case to angle yourself onto the screen.

“Sure,” she narrowed her eyes and glanced past you.

You swung your feet as you waited for her to pour the five pints; some with too much foam and the others with no head at all. You took the first and held it up for the camera.

“A classic, BudLight,” you held it up to the light, “no head and…” you sipped, “flat.” You plunked it down and coughed as you grabbed the next, “this is a raddler?” you looked at the tap for confirmation, “grapefruit… smells like piss…” you had a sip, “tastes like it too.”

You chuckled to yourself and asked for a water. You made a show of swishing it around in your mouth before you moved onto the third beer.

“Had to cleanse the palate,” you joked, “now… lots of foam on this one, dark. You know, I’m pretty surprised they have Guinness here but let’s see…” you tasted it and crinkled your nose, “that’s it. Exactly like toilet water!”

You read some of the comments telling you to check the bottles for bugs and laughed. Suddenly you were yanked off the stool by the back of your shirt and your phone was swiped up by another man as the first restrained you. You struggled against his thick arm as it hooked around your neck and the leader of their crew stared at the screen of your cell.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled as he hit the screen with his thumb but the stream kept going. He dropped the phone to the floor and stomped it instead.

“This is the bitch posting about us online,” the man at your back growled. It was Steve, the one with the weird walk.

“I doubt either of you know how to use a computer,” you scoffed, “hey, let me go.”

“And why would we do that when you’re snitching to the whole world, sweetheart?” Bucky kicked your phone away as he crossed his arms.

“Actually, I’m--” you grasped Steve’s arm as it threatened to get tighter, “--promoting your trash business. I was just having a tasting, if you had just asked--”

“Shut up!” Bucky stepped closer and brought your legs up and stopped him as you planted your feet against his stomach.

“Hey,” a woman’s voice came from behind the bar as the waitress shoved aside her empty tray, “hey, she’s just a kid.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky huffed, “she looks full-grown to me.”

“So what are you gonna do?” she said, “she’s young. You can’t--”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” he snapped.

“She’s right,” another voice intoned and that man, Sam, came up beside them with a pool cue in hand, “she’s just goofing around.”

“She’s a rat,” Steve insisted.

“You’re being dramatic. It’s called a meme and you do walk a little strange,” he chuckled, “no one’s gonna follow her breadcrumbs back to this shithole anyway.”

Bucky considered Sam and then looked at Steve. He poked his cheek with his tongue and sucked his teeth.

“So… you vouching for her?” Bucky asked.

“She won’t cause any more trouble, promise,” Sam said, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You better,” Bucky snapped his fingers and you were released, “get her out of here.” 

[cuddlesslut]

Part Six: Promises

Atsumu x fem reader, Suna x fem reader, Hinata x fem reader

A/N: Soooo at long last the reunion! So many emotions! I’m so stuck on who to root for!

Warnings: Angst, some fluff, slightly suggestive content

Part Five: Friends

Part Seven: Regrets

You eyes opened to the sun peering through the curtain shining straight right into your face. You moved your hands to block the sun easeing the strain it caused on your eyes. You were groggy, and you back felt stiff. This definitely wasn’t your bed. You surveyed the area finally remembering, that’s right I’m at Suna’s house. You let out a yawn wiping the sleep from your eyes. That when you felt him move next to you. Yesterday the boys had come back from their loss at nationals. While they made the trip back you spent the whole day getting everything ready for your boyfriend’s return. You wanted to make him feel better so you went to the market that morning and spent your day making homemade sashimi with Fatty Tuna and some Onigiri with the left overs for you ,Tsumu and his twin. Although when he finally arrived home and saw you sitting on his door step he wasn’t very receptive.

“Hey there baby,” you gave him a quiet smile, you know he can’t be feeling to hot right now. You ignored the hurt you felt when he rolled his eyes at you.

“What are you doing here YN?” He sighed there was a slight annoyance to his tone. Again you brushed it to the side.

“I wanted to come be here for you, oh and I brought some food for you and Samu,” you presented the bag containing all of the goodies you had made for them.

Osamu’s eyes lit up at the word food quickly grabbing the bag out your hands “ohhh hell yeah I’m starving, mmmh thanks YN,” he said trying to stuff an Onigiri in his mouth before entering the Miya household. You laughed at his antics before turning your attention back to your boyfriend.

Atsumu stood there in front of you with a look of exhaustion etched on his face. “I was thinking maybe we could spend the evening together, maybe watch a movie, or just cuddle or really whatever you want,” you explained not sure what would be the best in this situation you weren’t used to having to comfort him after a loss.

He frowned “what I want is to be left alone I don’t have the energy to deal with you right now.”

You scoffed “ deal with me!” You questioned back suprised by his attitude.

“Yeah YN I really dont feel like putting up with your clinginess right now it’s annoying,” he huffed.

Your jaw dropped he had never spoke to you that way before. “Wow Okay Atsumu, I knew you were gunna be upset but that doesn’t mean you get to be a dick to me! Enjoy the food I’m going to leave it’s obvious I’m not wanted here,” you stated not standing to be talked like that.

You didn’t stick around to hear his response, you both needed to calm down at this point. You made your way down the street still fuming and ranting in your head “how dare he!” You thought! Ughhh you needed to calm down. You already knew the destination you were heading for. You had planned to save some of the snacks you had made and bring some home to Suna on your way home tonight. But now all the food was with Atsumu. You could feel your stomach growl. You let out a frustrated sigh stuspid Tsumu that was you meal too. You decide to stop at convenience store loading up on all of yours and the middle blockers favorite snacks.

And that’s how you ended up where you are now. Laying down on his couch covered in his comforter with your best friends face snuggled up into your stomach. You giggled he looked adorable. Part of you really wanted snap a photo for proof. Suna was never the most affectionate when it came to anyone really, so to see him holding your waist close was so sweet. He looked so peaceful. You were so thankful for him. When you showed up at his door yesterday you were supposed to cheer him up but it seems it was more likely the other way around. Lost in thought you start running your fingers through his hair as he laid sleeping on your abdomen. He was always there for you and always put your feeling into account with anything you did together. He paid attention to the little details ,like how he had remembered yesterday that milk bread was your favorite, but he did that all the time always so analytical with everything. So you don’t think to much of it. It’s hard to stop yourself and if anyone EVER asked you , you would lie. But for a moment you imagined what it would be like if you were dating the withdrawn boy. You were quick to dismiss that idea though. It was wrong you love Atsumu you knew that and plus he was you best friend. Hell he was one of your boyfriends closest friends. Your smile dropped a little thinking about the setter. That’s right your boyfriend, that is if that what he still was. You weren’t mad anymore a little hurt yes but all the anger had disapatted. You understood he wasn’t in the best place and you weren’t going to let one fight break you up. But you couldn’t speak for him. Were you really that clingy? Did you annoy him that much? Did he still want to be with you? These intrusive thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of your phone. Huh speak of the devil.

Tsumu 💕 : hey babe.

Tsumu 💕: I know ur probably pissed u should be.

Tsumu 💕 : I’m so so sorry for being an ass yesterday. I was just so mad at myself for not doing enough at the match, but that doesn’t matter it was no excuse for how I treated you. I get it if you don’t want to deal with me anymore but I just want you to know you're not annoying I didn’t mean any of the shit I said I was just angry and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I promise it’ll never happen again please give me another chance I love you YN 🥺💕

You let out a sigh of relief. Looking back down at the boy laying next to you. He really was quite handsome, and so caring. He's going to make someone so happy one day.

You’re not sure what brought that memory into your head at this moment but you push it to the side as Suna approached you. He looked like a man on a mission weaving threw the bar patrons. It was like if he didn’t reach you in time you’d disappear. You found your heart beating faster as we neared you. Soon enough he was standing in front of you with a look of disbelief etched on his normally stoic face.

You were nervous what should you say. What if he’s angry with you. You didn’t get much time to worry because as soon as the middle blocker confirmed you weren't a figment of his imagination he pulled you into his chest. His arms wrapping around you securely. You quickly melt into his embrace a sense of familiarity swarming over you.

“Where the hell have you been dumbass,” he choked out before quickly pulling his emotions back in. You laughed into his chest at his nickname for you.

“Sorry Suna I just had to leave I couldn’t be around him anymore,” you choked out. You removed yourself from his grasp moving back to your seat at the bar. You motioned for him to join you. You took a large gulp needing to calm your nerves.

“Look don’t apologize, you were going through a lot , hell I don’t know how I would react if I found out the person I loved was cheating on me for two years, I might committed murder,” he lets out a nervous laugh. Your brain freezes two years.... two years your mind just keeps repeating like it just can’t possibly process that information. You face drops, you turn to the bartender “ another shot of tequila please, uh make that a double,” lord knows you need it.

Suna looks at you eyes wide you had never been much of a drinker before ,at least not hard liquor, the most you ever drank were a glass or two of wine. So to see you finish off your mixed drink then proceed to down a double shot of tequila was a sight.

Your mind was swimming. As you paid out the bartender leaving a nice tip for the speedy service your mind ran in circles around the new information. You knew he had cheated on you for the eight months with Yuki and part of you figured it wasn’t the first time but TWO DAMN YEARS! You want to scream and break something like he couldn’t betray you anymore then Suna has to go tell you it was for hell of a lot longer than you had figured. You froze you brain caught on to one detail. Suna knew it was for two years and you didn’t. Did he know the whole damn time! Your brain couldn’t think rationally. You need to get out of here. It was to much the music was too loud, the place was to crowded, you felt like you couldn’t breath. You gave him a look of disgust before turning and walking away ready to leave this place.

Suna was shocked all of the sudden you looked at him your face full of pain. Before he could realize what was happening you were slipping through the crowd. Oh no he panics he just found you he couldn't let you slip away that easy. He wanted to know why you dropped him. He needed to know if he meant that little to you. So he started running after you calling your name. Luck was on his side tonight. Although you had been able to make it out the club and partially down the block he was able to catch you.

“YN wait , where are you going,” he asked desperately reaching for your wrist to stop you. You snatched your arm away from him angry.

“I’m going home Suna leave me alone,” you shout over you shoulder heading towards your apartment luckily it wasn’t too far. Although you could feel the alcohol start to settle in you knew you could still navigate your way home.

“ stop YN talk to me,” you ignored him and kept walking he let out a groan of frustration and started following you. It not like he had just downed two shots but he had plenty of drinks before he had found you. He was not expecting to have to go for a walk.

You look over your shoulder noticing he was following you. “Ughh leave me alone Suna,” you yell back to him, “stop following me!”

“Too bad I am walking with you till get home, I just watched you put back a lot of alcohol I know you can’t be sober so there is no way I’m letting you go by yourself! I’m walking with you I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.” You sighed knowing there was no changing his mind. You looked forward continuing your trek home.

After that last outburst the rest of the walk was silent. Your mind was clouded. You wanted to cry so badly how could Suna act like he cared about you if he helped hide Atsumus betrayal from you. Maybe you were right maybe the friendship was a lie, maybe the connection was one sided. You could feel a swell of emotions in your chest. You denied it for long but you missed Suna. You missed your late night calls, you missed getting coffee , you missed forcing him to watch the newest episode of whatever anime you were watching, you missed hearing all about his games and being one of his number one fans, you missed sending memes, but most of all you missed how much he always seemed to be there when you needed him. But what if that was all just an act. What if ir was just a distraction from all the lies in your life. Before you knew it you were standing at you front door. You could feel his presence behind you unmoving.

“Goodbye Suna,” you huffed opening your door.

“STOP! YN please!” His voice broke. “Please don’t shut me out again! Talk to me!” You refused look back but if you did you’d see tears welling in his eyes holding on with all might trying not to spill over his heated cheeks. You looked at the entrance of your home every fiber in your body screaming at you to comfort him to reach out and hold him close, but you were so scared. So afraid to learn the truth.

“If our friendship ever meant anything to you please talk to me.” He voice so quiet like he was terrified of your response. You moved forward opening the door and stepping through the threshold. You could hear his sharp intake of air you could feel the pain radiating from him. You turned to him seeing Suna broken in a way you had never seen before. Not when he lost nationals, not when he lost his pet, not with any of his break ups. Your heart shattered at the sight. You looked into his eyes before opening you door wider for him to enter. You could see the relief rack through his body. Slowly as though he was unsure you’d change your mind at the last minute he stepped into your apartment. He tentatively took off his shoes before looking around your home studying every detail. You walk past him taking a seat on your couch you look down at the ground in front of you. You can feel the couch seat next to you shift under his weight his long legs entering your vision as you kept from looking up. You both sat in an uncomfortable silence both unsure were to start.

“So this is we’re you been all this time,” he let out a small laugh at the irony, “all that time I spent looking for you and here you were less then ten minutes away from me.”

Your face scrunched “ why would you look for me,” you asked letting your insecurities get the best of you.

He looked at you like you had just asked him if the sky was blue because to him that had to be stupidest question he had ever heard. You shifted uncomfortably under his stare you body now facing him. You head throbbing from the cluster of emotions and from the alcohol coursing throughout your body. You were sorta thankful for your inebriated state. You doubted you’d have the small amount of courage you have now with out it. Your attention turned back to the male sitting beside you.

“Because I care about you dumbass.”

“Oh really! Yeah it sure seemed like that! Two years he cheated on me for TWO YEARS!,” you started to feel heated the walls you had built around your emotions bursting at the seems. “ that’s news to me although at this point I’m not all that surprised, but still I was only aware that he had been cheating on me for eight months! So I just find it strange that you know it was for two years! Tell me Suna did you know the whole time and just let me sit there ignorant to his betrayal! I know you are his friend and that you’ve known him longer but still I thought our friendship meant something!” You aren’t sure when it started but tears were spilling down your cheeks. You looked into his eyes and saw pain. He was hurt that you thought he’d ever choose anyone over you.

He takes a deep breath steadying himself “I’m going to explain everything and I need you to please just listen to me,” he sighs looking to you for your response. You gave a small nod . He let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He rubs his hands over his face trying his best to calm his nerves.

“It was two weeks after your birthday,” he begins. “You weren’t answering your phone, it was so unusual for you to ignore me for that long no matter how busy you were you’d always call me and check up, so when I got no response I got scared you were angry with me ,so when I was meeting up with Osamu and he said he hadn’t heard from you either and that Atsumu wasn’t answering his phone neither we decided to stop by.” His face twitched with aggravation. “You can imagine our surprise to find the place a mess and Atsumu just sitting there in self pity. It became apparent that you weren’t there. When he said you left him Samu and I were shocked there was no way you’d just leave so we both knew something had to happen.” You could see Suna’s jaw clench and fist ball up grabbing at his pants. “When he finally broke and told us he cheated on you and you had caught him he came clean about the two years. I couldn’t hear anymore of his bullshit so I punched him and left.” Your eyes went wide. He punched him. “Osamu had to come outside and calm me down, I was so worried no one knew where you were and that ass was just sitting there feeling bad for himself!” He seethed. You placed your hand on his arm trying to calm him. It must have done the trick. He took a deep breath before looking straight into your eyes. “I honestly thought you knew how long, I didn’t know I promise you that,” he picked up your free hand holding it in his. “You should know I’d never choose him or anyone for that matter over you.”

Your heart felt like it stopped in that moment. “Why would you say that,” you asked breathless.

He let out a chuckle he brought his hand up to caress your face. You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing your cheek firmly into his palm. You heart started to quicken. There was a look in the middle blockers eyes that you had never noticed before although it looked so familiar like this was how he always looked at you and you were just to blind to notice. “I thought it would have been obvious by now,” you didn’t notice how close you had both become. His face was merely an inch or two away from yours. His eyes glanced down to your lips, you copy the motion. You can feel your cheeks heat. “ I’m in love with you,” he states his breath hiting you face. Before you knew it his lips were connected to yours.

You didn’t pull back enjoying the feeling of his lips. He snaked his hand behind your head holding the back of your neck securely. The kiss was slow but so full of passion. You felt a light lick of his tongue as he requested to deepen the kiss. You gladly obliged opening your mouth to his exploration. You snaked your hands into his hair adjusting your body to his. Slowly he leaned you back on the couch capturing you underneath him. He slid he’s free hand down grabbing ahold of your hip as your tongue danced together sensually. He gave a light squeez to your hip. Your lips disconnected as your head fell back while you let out a soft moan. He seized this opportunity to place delicate kisses under your jaw and down your neck before latching on to your neck. You legs spread allowing him closer access to you. The hand at you hip gently crept up your shirt before giving a tender clutch to your breast.

“Suna!” You mewled.

He gave a soft nip at your neck “say my name love,” he requested his voice heavy with want. He tweaked your nipple through the fabric of your bra.

“Ahh Rintarou,” you moaned. Your fingers gripping at the black strands of his hair your back arching up into his touch.

You could feel him smile into your neck. “You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of hearing that,” he recapture your lips into a searing kiss as he rolled his hips into yours bringing another whimper forth. You were lost in the feeling of his presence. It was so calming and warm. You felt so comfortable in his arms like this was something you had done a thousand times. Your want for oxygen is sacrificed for the feeling of him pressed into your body. This was different than anything else. It was like he was trying to pour all of his love into this moment. Everything moving slowly as though he wanted to take his time with you. Nothing was hurried or fueled by lust. It was so unlike anything you experienced with Atsumu, or with .....

“Stop,” you breathed disconnecting your lips sitting up trying to create some distance between your bodies. He moved back worried. Cautious of his next move not wanting to scare you away.

“I’m sorry did I hurt you? did I move to fast? I’m sorry YN,” he stammered out.

“Shh Rin, it’s okay you didn’t do anything wrong it’s me,” he gave a small smile loving hearing you call him by his given name. That smile was quickly replaced with a questioning look.

You calmed yourself trying to figure out how to explain your situation. “Rin I can’t do this right now it’s not okay.... there’s someone,” his face dropped.

“Your dating someone,” you could see the fear on his face.

“Well no we’re not dating... it complicated.”

He could start to figure out what you were referring to, he’s not naive. But still he wanted to allow you to explain it.

“Ah this is kind of embarrassing ugh,” you hid your face in your hands.

“It’s okay YN you can tell me anything,” he looked at you reassuring, he needed to know the truth about the situation. He could only hope it wasn’t to serious.

“Well ,” you took a deep breath “ there’s this guy, he’s my friend,” you add “ he and I are uhh well we sleep together, it’s been going on for two months now,” you search his face for any judgment yet you find none. You continue “ I just don’t feel right continuing with what we were doing.”

He shook his head while he searched for his next words. “So you aren’t dating but you don’t feel right being with someone else,” he questions.

“I won’t lie to Rin it’s complicated, I’m fairly certain I was falling for him, but there’s just so much going on and now this with you it’s a lot.” You give him a small smile. “I’m not sure we’re my head is at. I don’t want to make any mistakes that could ruin everything with you and how we move forward, I also have a lot to think about.”

“I understand that but I hope you understand why I’m hesitant, I’m afraid you’ll drop me again and you’ll be gone from me again,” he looked up at you. “I need to know YN, please tell me why did you cut me out of your life?”

You sighed grabbing his hands holding then tightly in your own. “Rin it was so hard, when he betrayed me it felt as though I’d lost the place I called home, like everything I knew was a lie, it terrified me at the idea that everything was a lie, even us, I don’t think I’d survived if I found out that what we have was nothing. So it was easier to push you and everyone else away, I was scared. I also couldn’t stand the idea of Atsumu being in any part of my life, and I still don’t that’s why I’m still so nervous letting you back in, I’m still not ready to face him.”

“I would cut him completely out of my life for you YN, anything you ask and I do it! You could ask for the moon and I’d find a way.” A soft giggle left your lips at his proclamation.

“I could never ask that of you, that’d include Osamu and he’s your closest friend, I couldn’t do that. And I’m not asking you to cut anyone out.... I just need some time,please understand that. These feeling I have for you are so strong but I want to sort them out before we move forward.” You looked him directly in the eyes. “I promise you Rin I will not drop you again, I don’t want you out of my life.” He nodded.

“Okay, I understand and I’ll give you time, but you have to give me your new number,” he smiled at you. You laughed smiling up at him. God how he missed that smile. You traded numbers, before you walked him to the door.

“Goodnight Rin,” you smiled.

“Goodnight love,” he replied leaning down stealing one more kiss. You looked up at him surprised. “What I promised I’d give you time, I never said I wasn’t going to prove to you in that time just how much I love you,” he grinned that sly smile before slipping out your door. Just like earlier that day you slid down your door sitting on the floor letiting out a sigh, except now you had a multitude of new problems. But right now all you could think of was sleep. You were exhausted.

Home Masterlist

Taglist OPEN

Taglist : @animeboihoe @karlitabi-rrito @mutli-fandom-fanfic @comically-sleep-deprived @madmelle @momoinot @eggbutnotyolk @yunhosblackgf @6sakusa @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @a-fucking-simp @its-babybitch @sakusasonlywife @japanushiiiii @dekuspet @sredamancy @haikyuusimp91 @shoyosbitchh @far-off-dream @tsukkisfatsimp @nestlevanilla @simply-not-the-same @porcolie @uwubby-1 @ahopefulbouquetcollection @graykageyama @elianetsantana @allykat7599 @airybnb @wonhomarshmallow @minnieminnie00-got7 @weebtato

Those bolded couldn’t be tagged

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Nabahero

An AU of my fic Habanero where Reader-chan hooked up with Nemuri instead of Aizawa.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Midnight x Reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: None really apply

Sequel/AU: Habanero

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

“Oh my g-” you cried out, grinding your ass into the bed and your lover’s tongue. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna…”

You came seconds later, with such force that your cries of pleasure died in your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you gasped for air, your lover smugly sucking at your thighs.

You laid there, body twitching and overstimulated, going over the events of the past few hours.

You couldn’t believe what you were doing.

You couldn’t believe what you’d done .

_____

It started with a revelation that changed your world forever.

Your boyfriend took your hand in his and, gently, ended your relationship. You were too delicate, too sweet. He wanted someone who challenged him, who didn’t blush, who wore stiletto heels and red lipstick and slipped off her underwear in public.

Incredibly ironic, now that you thought about it.

The breakup hit you hard, leaving your friends more than a little worried about you. Their solution was to drag you to a nightclub in search of a one night stand, the prospect of which left you nervous. You weren’t used to such loud places, being surrounded by so many strangers.

It was all too much for you after barely twenty minutes and you excused yourself from the table, heading into the nearest washroom to freshen up your makeup and gather your nerves. You reapplied your eyeliner, your mascara, your lipstick, trying to drag out the process for as long as possible. You could think of nothing worse than sitting back down at the table and scoping out strangers with your friends. You just wanted to be home, watching Netflix in your pyjamas.

You stepped back out into the club, taking a deep breath and bracing yourself for whatever might happen next. You wondered how you could avoid it even more. How else could you waste your time?

As if in response, a commotion broke out at the bar.

You glanced in that direction, taking note of the crowds of people and single bartender, an idea coming to mind. You pulled out your phone and loaded the group chat, sending a single message to your friends.

>>I’m going to grab drinks. Any preferences?

Rei wanted shots, Sayaka wanted a Cosmopolitan, Yuiko wanted beer and you felt more than little smug as you joined the back of the queue. If you played your cards right, you’d be stuck there for at least half an hour.

You didn’t bother to try and push to the front, quite happy to take your time. Unfortunately, while this was a good idea in theory, it had dire consequences in practise. A girl in stiletto heels tripped as she left the crowd, sending her drinks into the air and glasses smashing to the floor. Everyone jumped back, yourself included, though you weren’t fast enough. Within seconds your dress was soaked in a combination of soda, sliced lemon and alcohol.

You cried out in shock, the ice from the drinks cold against your skin and your dress almost certainly ruined.

“I’m so sorry,” cried out the girl who had dropped them, “I-I didn’t mean to!”

You wanted to tell her it was fine, but the chill of the ice left you unable to form words. Instead you reached to wipe the alcohol from your face, breathing a heavy sigh.

For lack of a better option, you returned to the bathroom, sitting up onto the sink to squeeze out as much liquid as you could. You were fairly certain you had never looked such a mess in your life: you had soda on your shoes, mascara dripping down your face and ice in your purse. You reached for your makeup bag, meaning to try and salvage your face at least, only to give up and wash everything off.

You reached for your phone and updated the messenger, realising an opportunity when you saw one.

>>Change of plan. Someone dropped their drinks on me, so I’m going home to change.

>>Did you want me to come with you?

>>Nope, I’ll be fine.

_____

You promised to call your friends once you got to the train station, though only halfheartedly. By then, all you could think about was going home and getting into your pyjamas.

Unfortunately, Lady Luck wasn’t finished with you yet and it began to rain about halfway between your train stop and Ego , a downpour so sharp and sudden that you had little choice but to take shelter in a nearby izakaya.

You hoped that the rain would end just as quickly as it started, but it continued, raindrops hitting the ground with such force that they bounced off the tarmac. You rubbed your hands together and headed for the bar, meaning to order a drink and wait out the storm.

You knew you looked a mess. You were soaked through with a combination of alcohol and rainwater, face still flushed from where you had scrubbed off your makeup. You made a point to preoccupy yourself with checking your emails, concluding that the less attention you drew to yourself, the better.

You deleted the usual spam, accepted the usual appointments, sent a quick message to the group chat and took a long sip of your drink, pointedly avoiding the gaze of everyone around you.

You didn’t notice the stranger approach until they had taken a seat on the bar stool next to you, filling your senses with the sweet scent that seemed to linger around their person.

“Can I get my usual?”

You gave them a nervous side glance, wondering if they were as attractive as their voice, only to find yourself looking at quite possibly the most beautiful woman you’d never seen. She had soft curves and kissable lips and you blushed before you could stop yourself, wishing the earth would swallow you whole. Of all of the times you could run into a hot girl, why did it have to be now?

She took a sip of her drink and turned towards you, seeming to notice you were looking at her. You didn’t manage to look away in time, which only seemed to make her smile. You supposed that for a woman as beautiful as her, this must be an everyday occurrence.

You hoped she didn’t think you were weird, even if you couldn’t blame her.

You turned back to her, meaning to apologise for making her uncomfortable, only to find her smiling at you and resting her head on one hand.

“I’m sensing a story here,” she said. “Come on, join me.”

Perhaps it was her clear blue eyes or the sweet scent that seemed to linger around her. Either way, it was an offer you couldn’t-and didn’t particularly want to- refuse.

_______

Within twenty minutes you were sitting in a corner booth, laughing so hard that tears streamed from your eyes. Nemuri, as she had introduced herself, had ordered food for the table and listened attentively to everything, from your breakup to the disastrous events at Ego . She laughed at all of the right moments and stroked your hair at the more emotional ones, so gently that it sent shivers through your spine and between your thighs.

“And then,” you said, sobbing with laughter, “the drinks just…FWWSH...”

You waved your hands in front of your face, mimicking the way the alcohol had landed, feeling more than a little smug when Nemuri doubled over with laughter.

“I had to pick little umbrellas out of my hair,” you said. “My purse is flooded...it’s like an aquarium…”

“(Name), (Name), oh my god, stop, you’re killing me!”

“At least I didn’t have to queue for a drink. All I have to do is stick in a straw and I’m good to go.”

“PFFFFFFFT!!”

Nemuri clapped her hands over her mouth, shoulders quaking with silent giggles. You couldn’t help but join in, the absurdity of everything finally sinking in.

You wiped the tears from your eyes and gasped for air, Nemuri draping an arm across your shoulders.

“Listen to me,” she said, “men are dogs. You can do so much better than him.”

She said it so confidently that you almost believed her, in awe of how certain she sounded.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” she said, giving your cheek a gentle squeeze. “Now. Let’s fix you up.”

____

A few minutes later you were sitting on the counter in the izakaya’s washroom, Nemuri wiping away what remained of your ruined makeup.

“You have such pretty eyes, (Name),” she said, stroking her fingers through your hair so softly that shivers ran up your spine, “has anyone ever told you that?”

You shook your head and she looked genuinely offended.

“People don’t know a good thing when it’s right in front of them,” she huffed, stroking a finger from your jaw to your collarbones. You wished that same finger was touching you somewhere else, eyes darting from her hand to her face. She leaned over to kiss you as if she’d read your mind and you were sure your heart was going to burst. You froze in place, terrified that the moment you blinked it’d be over.

“Sorry,” she said, taking a step back, “did I misunderstand?”

“No,” you breathed, “no, that’s not it. It’s just...I’ve never…”

You’d never been arrested. You’d never dyed your hair a shocking colour or gotten a tattoo. You’d definitely never made out with another girl, no matter how much you might have wanted to.

Nemuri nodded in understanding, setting aside your purse and easing you down to the floor, turning you round to face yourself in the mirror.

“Would you like to?” she whispered in your ear, leaning over to kiss the back of your neck.

“I…”

You couldn’t believe this was really happening; couldn’t believe this had ever been an option.

You nodded before you could stop yourself.

______

“Oh my g-” you cried out, grinding your ass into the bed and your lover’s tongue. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna…”

You came seconds later, with such force that your cries of pleasure died in your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you gasped for air, your lover smugly sucking at your thighs.

Nemuri’s apartment was a short train ride from the izakaya and you had followed her to the station in nervous silence. You hadn’t known what to expect. Your only experience of sex was with your ex boyfriend and that had never amounted to much more than a blow job followed by halfhearted thrusts as you laid flat on your back and pretended to moan, whether for his benefit or your own you weren’t quite sure.

Your entire body had trembled with anticipation as Nemuri closed the door behind you. You had arched into her touches as she pushed you back onto her bed and hitched up your skirt, tossing aside your panties and burying her face between your thighs all within a matter of minutes. She moved like an expert, without a hint of doubt in herself or her own abilities. You had never known anything like it and it was almost as intoxicating as the feel of her tongue over your clit.

No one had eaten you out before and at first you were worried that she wouldn’t like the way you tasted. She had quickly picked up on your nervousness, though, sitting up to look at you and slipping a finger between your folds.

“You have such a cute little pussy, (Name),” she had said, choosing her words deliberately to turn your face a shocking red. “I can’t believe you get to sit on it all day.”

You had stumbled over your words at that, watching as she lowered herself back down and played you like a fiddle. Your body all but sang for her and you definitely made a lot of noise, trembling into her every touch without regard for how loud you were being.

And so, there you were, twitching and trembling on a stranger’s bed, watching as she got to her feet and discarded her own clothes. Her body was perfect and you drank all of it in, from the swell of her breasts to the downy hair between her thighs, wanting nothing more than to touch her. You wanted to make her feel as good as she had you, wanted to see how she looked when she fell apart with pleasure.

“Come here, kitten,” she said, guiding you back up onto your knees and lifting your dress up over your head and onto the floor.

“Let me look at you,” she purred, guiding you up the bed, “I want to see you.”

“I want...to see you too,” you said, to which she laughed and stuck out her tongue.

“I said it first,” she said, leaning over to kiss your lips before unhooking your bra.

It was the final barrier between you; the only stitch of clothing you had on. That knowledge left you nervous and you clapped a hand over your chest the moment you were even slightly exposed.

“What is it?” she asked, suddenly concerned.

“It’s...it’s nothing,” you said, though you didn’t uncover yourself either. “You’ll probably think it’s silly…”

She was so beautiful, there was no way she’d understand your conflicting emotions. You wanted so badly for her to see you fully nude, but at the same time feared she’d find you disappointing. How could she not?

“Tell me.”

“It’s just,” you laughed under your breath, “you’re so beautiful and I’m…”

You chewed your bottom lip, remembering what your boyfriend had said to you the day of the breakup. You were sweet, vanilla and boring . You weren’t sexy, you didn’t know how to seduce people and you were amazed you’d gotten this far without her noticing. What if she realised the second your clothes were off?

She frowned, sitting up beside you and stroking her fingers across your face.

“Fuck them,” she said, more than a little venom in her voice.

“What? Who?”

“Whoever it was who convinced you you weren’t enough.”

“I…”

You blushed, not knowing what to say to that.

“Fuck them,” she said again, leaning over to kiss your forehead and then your lips, “fuck whoever taught you to put yourself last.”

She kissed your jawline and then your throat, humming with satisfaction as you lowered the arm that covered your breasts and exposed yourself fully for the first time.

She trailed her lips over your collarbones and down towards your nipples, swirling her tongue over them.

“Fuck whoever let you believe you’re anything less than perfect,” she said, using one hand to cup your breast while she suckled at the other. You sighed into her touches, so gentle and yet they stirred a longing deep within you.

“N-Nemuri,” you said, reaching for her to move back and embrace you, sighing into her lips the second they collided with yours.

You wanted her so badly, wanted her in every sense it was possible to want somebody else. She was only too eager to accept your kisses, rolling over onto her back and allowing you to straddle her.

“Now there’s a good kitten,” she said, reaching up to stroke your cheek before you leaned in to kiss her again. She stroked her fingers over your thighs as you kissed her, hands roaming your body in delight. “You’re such a good kisser…”

“Really?”

“No need to be so modest,” she said, “I think you’ve earned a special treat.”

“Special...treat?”

You peered down into her face for any hint of what you’d earned. She’d already made you cum, what else could she have in store?

“That drawer over there,” she said, “go take a look.”

You turned to the drawer she pointed out, shooting her a look of intrigue before crawling over to it and sliding it open.

“The lube,” she said, sliding a hand over your ass, “and the vibrator. Grab them.”

Your stomach fluttered just at the idea of them; your hands shook when you actually touched them. You swallowed loudly, setting them down in the center of the bed and waiting to see what she did next.

She sat up and took hold of them, uncapping the lube and setting the vibrator to one side.

“Lie back, sweet thing,” she said, patting the closest pillow. “Let me take care of you.”

You obeyed, resting your head and watching as she crawled towards you, intertwining her legs with yours and shifting her weight until your sexes touched. You gasped at the sudden heated intensity, Nemuri sucking in a single heavy breath before dripping lube onto the spot where your bodies collided.

“That’s a good girl,” she said, setting aside the lube and grinding her hips against yours, sending shivers of pleasure ringing through your core.

You moaned at the sensation and Nemuri grinned, grinding herself faster and harder, holding tightly to your legs. You watched her arch her back to keep up the rhythm, breasts bouncing every time her hips hit yours.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathed, reaching up to touch her.

She laughed, tilting her head to one side and gathering her hair over one shoulder.

“Touch me,” she said, taking your hand and guiding it along her waist, your fingers exploring the soft flesh below her belly button. She linked her fingers in yours and ground faster, leaving both of you moaning at the sensation.

She reached for both the lube and the vibrator, giving it a thin coat before slipping it into your hand.

“Hold it right...there,” she said, guiding you to the spot where your clits touched. “Now...hold it straight.”

She switched it on and both of you gasped at the extra stimulation, grinding your hips against the source. Nemuri dug her nails into your legs, gasping as she crushed her clit against the vibrator, a mix of your combined juices and lube dribbling down from your thighs to the bedsheets.

It felt so good. You’d never known it could feel so good.

You sighed in pleasure as your insides turned to jelly. You could think of nothing but the shoskwaves rushing through your core and overpowering your senses. Your ex had never made you cum like this. He’d never tried and you’d never presumed to ask.

“(Name),” said Nemuri, “look at me.”

You gazed up at her, taking in the haze of lust that covered her face, the rise and fall of her chest as she caught her breath.

“You’re beautiful.”

Maybe it was because you were still caught between the buildup of a new orgasm and the freefall of the one before it.

Maybe it was the confidence in her voice, combined with the softness in her expression.

Maybe it was because she had no reason to lie to you.

Whatever it was, you smiled, eyes welling with tears.

You believed her.

___

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER

“Promise?”

Hizashi sighed, waving away Nemuri’s concerns with both hands.

“We promise,” he said. “She’s important to you, we get it.”

Shouta nodded next to him.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t say anything weird.”

Several months beforehand, Nemuri had come to work in an incredible mood. It had been a while since she’d been in a serious relationship, but something about this new girl was special. So special, in fact, that Nemuri had refused to introduce her or even show off any photos. Hizashi and Shouta (though mostly Hizashi) had had to settle for occasional anecdotes and the smallest slivers of information, leaving the rest to their imagination.

They knew you were a social worker, though didn’t know which company you worked for. They knew your first name, though not your last, rendering any attempts to find you on social media somewhat futile. They knew you drank far too much coffee than was healthy. They knew you had (H/C) hair from the ones you sometimes left on Nemuri’s clothes. They knew you weren’t a pro hero but you were a great cook.

Now that the new term was well underway, she’d finally caved and invited you to the izakaya to drink with them, albeit reluctantly. She was serious about you and convinced they’d say something embarrassing- something relatively innocent that would drive you away.

“What do you mean you’ll make sure I don’t say anything weird?” said Hizashi, more than a little offended. “You know just as many embarrassing stories about Nemuri as I do.”

“Sure,” Shouta shrugged, “but I’m not the one who overshares.”

Hizashi began to protest the point, only to fall silent as an incredibly nervous Nemuri got up to greet someone.

“You made it,” she said, reaching out to wrap her arms around you and planting a kiss on your lips. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“Sorry, I got caught up at the office.”

Nemuri took a step back, allowing you to step towards the booth and into Hizashi and Shouta’s field of vision. Hizashi’s jaw dropped and Shouta took a lengthy pause before sipping his beer, both examining you from head to toe.

They didn’t know what they’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t you.

“Pleased to finally meet you,” you said, giving them a polite bow. “I’m (Name). Nemuri’s told me so much about you both.”

“Take a seat,” said Nemuri, helping you into the booth and failing to hide her nerves. “I’ll get you something to drink!”

She left you alone with Hizashi and Shouta, though not before making hand signs behind your back.

Don’t ruin this for me.

“So,” you said, giving them both a polite smile. “Come here often?”

[sinner-as-saint]

Okay but hc on Cherry!Mob!Seb fucking reader up after catching her on another man in the club- feed me this content, I beg (love you btw)

Cherry p1

Hmm, interesting because someone else also requested a part 2 to Cherry.

Mkay, here we go...

So

The mob boss would often go out of town for a couple of days

But then he always came back to you, for you rather

But this time, it had been 2 whole weeks and there was still no sign of him

You were a little worried at first, given the nature of his job.

But then the worry turned into annoyance and finally anger by the end of the second week.

He was clearly fine and well, probably having the time of his life with other women

So sulking over his departure was a waste of time.

You taught yourself to move on.

Sure, without his huge amounts of money, you earned much less every day

But it was still better than nothing

You had gained new clients, a couple of regulars too

One night, you were doing what you do best; performing for a very loaded man who showered you with money bills

The man even gave you his gold chain at some point; with his initials on it

Good thing you weren't wearing the collar given by Sebastian

And speaking of the devil...

Once you threw a quick glance around the dark room; you saw him immediately

Surrounded by his guards, hands in his pockets, dressed in a dark suit

Sebastian

His blue eyes glared at you

And just to fuel his very visible anger and discomfort, you moved even sinfully across the man's lap

Your scandalous outfit was perfect as well.

It showed just enough of your body to grab anyone's attention

And your actions clearly angered the mob boss even more

He knew you saw him, so all he did was point towards the private rooms and walked into that section of the club

He knew that sooner or later, you'd follow and join him eventually

And you did, after purposely keeping him waiting for quite a while

"Oh look who's here. What happened, you lost your way?" you sassed.

He kept quiet as he sipped on his liquor; sat on the dark red couch like it was his throne.

He studied your appearance

Your white lacy lingerie

Your excuse of a see-through cover up

Your slightly smudged dark lipstick

The golden chain around your neck, replacing the very expensive diamond collar he had given you a while ago; with his last name on it

But the thing he hated the most, was the bundle of cash tucked into the waistband of your thong

And you were disrespectful enough to show it off

He clenched his jaw as his eyes roamed your body

He had missed you

And he even hurried his way back, eager to find you and have you on his lap while he finally touched you and told you about the time he'd been gone

But no

He return to find that his girl defied him.

"Come here" he simply said, authority dripping from his words

You approached him, thinking he would just be a bitch about what he saw earlier but then he would finally give in

But no

Oh no

The mob boss was furious

He pulled you into his lap and gripped your jaw

"Get your hands off me!" you slapped his hand away

But he placed them back, gripping your face harder this time; it hurt just a little

"Why are you being like this? What the fuck were you doing just now, outside?"

You almost laughed

"My fucking job! Now go get fucked somewhere else!" you were mad too, but under your anger was hidden hurt

You could've sworn you heard him growl the moment you tried get off his lap

Ans within a second he had you pinned down on the couch

He held you by the throat gently

"You will not disrespect me like that, babygirl" he dared to move

You chuckled

"Or what huh? I have nothing to lose, Sebastian. I'm just a whore to you anyways." you sounded as though you were questioning his power

And he hated that, amongst others things

"Just a whore huh? Well, let me show you how I treat one," he'd whisper before going absolutely crazy

He'd tear off your lingerie in less than a few seconds

And you'd let him

You had missed him too, truth is you'd take whatever he'd give you

But he did go a little over the limit

I'm thinking Sebastian would just not care

He'd be degrading

To a point where it hurt

"I was stupid to even give you my attention! Should've left you out there, to be used like a whore"

He spoke while he separated your legs and settled in between them

He was quick to push himself in you, not even bothering about your whimpers

"I was stupid to put you on a fucking pedestal and call you mine. But I leave for a couple days and you get back to where you truly belong. Guess whores never learn, huh?"

He wanted to push your limits; physically and mentally.

He knew his words hurt, but he wanted you to feel how he felt when he walked in to find you on someone else's lap

You whimpered as he filled you up, he didn't give you time to adjust to his size; he just started rocking his hips against yours

You moaned at how good he felt, but then he quickened his pace

He was relentless

"You'll do anything for money, huh? Tell me, did he fuck you like this as well? Did you let him?"

He asked as he merciless pounded into you, pinning your wrists above your head

He grabbed the golden you wore and yanked it off your head, throwing it somewhere on the ground.

You moaned out loud, struggling to keep your eyes open as it started to water

You weren't sure if it was out of pleasure or because of his choice of words

At some point, he'd pull out, turn you around, pull your hips up before pushing into you again from the back

You'd whimper at the intensity of his thrust

"Aww, what is it? You can't take my cock? But isn't that what whores do? Fucking shut up and take it then!"

He'd keep going

You'd cry out his name as the pressure would built in between your legs

"You asked for this, well then fucking take it! What else is a whore good for, huh?"

You felt the tears fall, at the same time your body betrayed you and you came all over his cock.

He grunted as he felt your walls clench around him, milking him perfectly as he came right after you did

Sebastian pulled out and pulled your naked body onto his lap

You had missed his warmth so you instantly clinged to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pushing your face into his neck

You let the tears fall, and sniffled at they did

Sebastian's heart broke

He had been rougher than usual, and rude... He knew that

Sure, he had been angry and rude but he was the only safe place you knew. Or had.

He regretted everything he told you

He was ashamed aa he stroked your bare back gently

"Baby?"

You didn't respond, instead you sniffled again

"Baby, I'm so sorry" he spoke again, his voice a stark contrast to what it was just a minute ago

"You're mean" you finally spoke, voice strained and tired

You sobbed softly, still holding him tightly.

His heart broke a little more. Once he was done, you could've easily left, but you didn't

You stayed because you had no one else, and you needed to be held and taken care of.

"I'm sorry baby, i know i was rude and bad. But it's only because i thought you wouldn't be mine ever again. And I couldn't live with that" he explained.

You sniffled again.

"Still. You were so mean" you spoke, pulling away to look at him with tears in your eyes.

He wiped your tears away and pulled you into him

"I'll make it up to you, I promise. Will you please forgive me, baby"

"No" you simply said, avoiding his blue eyes.

He sighed, knowing you'd come around.

He put his suit jacket around you and carried you out of the club through the back door and into his car.

He sat you down gently and drove as fast as he could.

The silence was heavy, but not unpleasant

"I didn't wanna do it" you said, leaning against the window

He was confused

"Do what?" he asked

You wiped some more tears away and took a deep breath.

"I didn't want to perform for the man. But I'm running out of money, and I have to pay this month's rent or my landlord will kick me out."

You finally confessed

"You could've just told me that, Y/N" he said, sounding more caring than you wanted him to.

You almost chuckled through the pain

"You were gone for a week, Sebastian. Besides, that's my problem, not yours." you made it clear.

But he didn't like that.

He stopped the car abruptly.

"You are mine! All your troubles are mine, okay? You don't have to worry anyways, you're never going back to work in that club"

You knew that possessive tone, and it only entailed surprises.

"What do you mean?" you questioned further

"I'm buying it. You can run it." he spoke as if it were nothing at all.

You were shocked.

"Seb, what-"

He cut you off.

"You heard what i said, baby"

"But why?"

"Because i want you all to myself. I want you to be with me."

You scoffed.

"This is how you ask girls out?"

He looked at you and smiled.

"Not girls, just you." He caressed your tear stained cheek lazily.

After talking about it, after he constantly apologized for his previous behavior and a few playful banters later, he started the car again.

"Where are we going?" you asked

"Home." he replied.

"Your home?"

"Our home." he corrected you. And you almost cried again.

"Why? Haven't you had your fill?" you teased.

"I have. But every king needs his queen by his side. And I need you. I'll keep you safe and happy. Forever."

a/n: *sobs* y'all-

Everything tag list:

@charmed-asylum

@ravenmoore14

@stangirl-fangirl264

@xbuckxnastyx

@qrndevans

@starkerhowlter

@fafulous

@smolandrare-coffee-bean

@alexxcorona113

@heartislubbingdubbing

@buggy-blogs

@livsheph

@tt-nikithakppr

@chowder200

@curlyhairedandconfused

@beckloves

@inez-lannister-stark-martell

@amantedelcalcio

@reniescarlett

@rocknrollsinner

@siriusjohnpotter

@scarygoodgirl

@ladymidnightt

@the-illusion-of-a-kiss

@unlikelycandylove

@fentybucky

@marshyrebelcloud

@talk-geek-to-me

@antisocialvscovibes

@tasteslikeblueberries

@the-jer-bear

@aynaraxas

@dreams-in-blxck

@socksracoon10

@moony-tonks-lupin

@anncutamarica

[wshaeil]

*  ◟  ―  🍓cl - clang !! hello , it’s so nice to meet you all - my name is jada , but you can just call me 𝐎𝐇 𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐈𝐋’s mun !! i’m super excited to be here , and hopefully you guys take to me and phoenix’s leader , haeil ! he has a semi - sad vibe , but don’t be fooled, he’s a pretty cool guy ! below you’ll find trivia as well as general connections while i work on te real plots page ! and as always, please like if you’d like to plot alongside me and my boy !! lets go !

     𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 .  //  𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.  //  𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓. //

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

i’m going to lightly touch on his backstory here but his bio is already loaded w stuff haha so !! i won’t bore you with too many details !!

came from a family w / high expectations of him, to always be the responsible big brother ... and he did ! always was good at school stuff, took care of stuff at home when needed, etc !

but deep down he was ( and is ) not happy w how he felt his own happiness was always sacrificed for others, despite not wanting to admit it & sounding selfish ? but anyways, it got him acting up, and he had a whooole little rebellious streak that was completely out his character !

though he realllyyy enjoyed the rush, his little adventure ended quick when his parents noticed him skipping class & all that ! so his first year of hs they made him join a school club to find better friends, and that’s where he found dance !

there he learned dance and well ... the rest is history !! loved every minute of it, but got a really bad injury that had him out of dances for a while, and it crushed him, but he came back with a newfound true appreciation for it !

time skip, his friends encouraged him to audition when word came around about yuseong auditions and ... voila ! here we are !!

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘.

ok so you’ll have to excuse me as haeil is one of those this . . . and also that characters HAHA, so he’s got opposing personality traits even within himself ! he even is confused by it hee heeeee

also sidenote his younger sister is @wsharin​ !! they’re definitely giving opposites yet crazy type, have quite different personalities, but grwing up in similar environments w each other has kept them very close ! kinda thinks he’s fake youngest out of them, yet fiercely protective of her !

but ! his natural instinct is actually to be pretty wild, outgoing, have fun. he’s the happiest when he can do that, and those closest to him probably know him to be quite the joker when he lets loose.

buuut for years now he’s been conditioned into the responsible leader-type he is now, though it def is his more manufactured side. but nowadays it’s what he reverts to, because he sort of just thinks there’s not enough room in everyone’s life for him to be so chaotic ??

haeil tries his hardest to blend in the background, as he feels it’s what a good leader does and he wants to give the rest of his team the shine. because he hasn’t been dancing as long as most others around him, and had a relatively short training time, he’s still v doubtful of his own worthiness of being in the position he is, therefore he sort of feels like ... he doesn’t deserve attention ?? ( and while this is true to an extent, haeil also needs to work through this constant pessimism within himself and learn to take pride in his achievements !! )

so a lot of times what you’ll see is a man trying to be a leader, with the inner child ( ! ) in him poking through. though he encourages participation from his other members rather than himself, his fans are known for pointing out all the moments he gets jumpy / excited / hyper, and he’s kinda developed this “tsundere” vibe because of it ? it’s not exactly correct but he’ll take it heehee

as a leader, esp on variety, you’ll see him doing little things to make the quieter / less talked to members heard this whole compilation ?? literally him.

if you’re close to him though, you’ll really see he’s not nearly as serious as he seems. he’s extreeemely caring, almost to a fault, w those close to him ? and will take care of literally anything they need. got rent due tomm ? send him your payment info and he’ll send over all he has in his account. but on top of that, he just loves to have fun, and if in an environment that allows, v spontaneous !

def mom friend vibes. doesn't like coffee but loves his morning tea, sweaters, tries to establish a bed time for phoenix, always managing to have remembered that one thing someone else forgot, packing snacks, all the good stuff !

but !! the entertainer in haeil is compleetely different, and largely why he got famous ! a charismatic dancer for sure, enjoys a lot of hip hop as it’s what he’s had most practice in, and whenever he dances he truly has fun !! 

he was so  deep in his own insecurities, and it showed in his dancing, untilll cherry bomb. phew cherry bomb haeil was ... a whole era, and what a lot of people attribute to being his vibe switch that made him 1000x more confident !

despite what many think he loooves aggresive rap. rock & r&b are right up there too. loves music that reminds him he can feel things !!

poor thing ... cannot handle his alcohol. legit tries to avoid drinking altogether bc like one drink and he’s already trying to crawl onto tables. actually loves going out for drinks but avoids it like the plague bc he thinks it ruins his pride lolll

while he claims he's too busy for love - and he genuinely is kinda - he is a hopeless romantic deep down. his mind always drifts to him & his future partner living all suburban w kids who match clothes and having a family dog, all the fixings ... he just wants a cute dad vibe and gets depressed when he thinks of how being an idol is kinda preventing that from coming anytime soon 

this is getting SO LONG WHAT lets move on !!

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

someone who didn’t actually make it / hasn’t yet debuted in the industry, but who haeil reallly looks up to as a mentor ? whether a rapper / singer or just someone he admires, haeil gets depressed every time he remembers the person who got him where he is hasn't even got their shot of fame yet, and who he feels he owes quite everything to. though he’s got the whole leader thing going on, this person makes him act like a whole little sibling.

english tutor !! he genuinely wants to be so much better than he is, and doubts his skills as a good leader bc of it and would loove someone to help him !! also def down to learn from someone who speaks japanese, since he’s learning that as well ! he just wants to connect w more fans D:

someone who lets him lets loossee !! need i say more ?? haeil needs to have some fun and be himself before he pops a brain vessel, and that seems like it’s becoming more and more of a possibility oijdoidjodjod. alcohol may or may not be included iin the equation but if so prepare for chaos personified !

an ex perhaps ?? he’s bisexual so this could go either way, but someone he was w in high school and for whatever reason, it didn’t work out ?? we could give them awkward or tension w angst where they never got closure, or two people who just worked better as friends and maintained a great connection !

someone who he’s truly just ... whipped over ? something about their energy has him wanting to see them more and more and quite honestly, p out of character. openly a simp and just wilding whenever this person’s in the room hours .. let’s go !!

best friends. but i mean like .... beeest friends. they don't have to necessarily go back, not all best friends do, but what matters is them now ! friends who have an incredibly special connection, the type to just .. basically be talking in their own language of inside jokes and such.

for those who might not be from korea / have the closest relationship w their own family, haeil’s got you ! if your muse has always wanted someone who cooks for them, gives advice, or just listens and provides a shoulder to cry on, mr.haeil is the man for you !!

[acelucky]

I’m going to be on a little bit of a hiatus from Tumblr for a few days, I’m just exhausted mentally and physically. I’ve been ill, had very little sleep, helped my dad move house amongst other things.

The other thing is related to the football, I’ll keep this brief (I was going to write a much longer post but don’t have the energy). Here’s the thing, I am so excited and anxious about the game tonight! Whether England win or lose I’m proud of the team and the amount of joy/hope it’s brought the nation (especially kids) during this difficult time with the pandemic and everything else, has been incredible and a beautiful thing to witness.

Walking along the streets where I live there’s loads of flags, bunting etc. as well as loads of flags and football shirts coloured in by children, children’s messages of hope and love for football. I think that’s why some of the anti England football posts are getting to me and setting my anxiety off.

Generally speaking I find anti-English/anti-British posts/memes/jokes hilarious and I’m British. I reblog quite a few, I know how to take a joke, how to recognise context, take things with a pinch of salt and to go ‘fuck, I’m British and I hate us too’. Especially as a comedian you have to learn how to laugh at yourself and not get upset about everything or take it personally. 

However, the football posts (some of them) have really triggered my anxiety - on the train home from a comedy gig on Wednesday I started hyper-ventilating after England’s win and seeing some of the posts on here. I just felt so sad and panicky. This is the first time I’ve experienced this with those kinds of posts on tumblr/social media - again, usually I laugh/join in and reblog.

I know it sounds so silly, I’m 32 years old for god’s sake but it’s just affected me so much. I know why. I’m a massive football fan and more importantly a massive Portsmouth Football Club fan, I had a season ticket for years, I’ve been to Wembley with my dad numerous times and travelled to various grounds.

Football meant the world to me as a child/teenager when I was bullied mercilessly in school, when my mother died, when I was exposed to pretty serious mental health conditions etc. It was football at the weekend with my dad and brother that gave me hope, the footballers who made me smile and made me believe things would get better. I’ve even started to write a book on my love of Portsmouth FC/football in general.

It was being a fan of football that meant the boys in my year didn’t bully me and stood up for me. I won a trophy at a Easter Portsmouth FC football training thing for kids, I was the only girl there and it gave me so much confidence and made me believe.

Portsmouth FC did and do so much for the community, for charity etc. And that’s the thing, football is about community, it’s about coming together and being British it’s important to remember that football is (or at least was and still tries to cling to these roots) a sport of the working classes and accessible for all. 

During my gap year to New Zealand my dad made me pack my Pompey shirt so I had a piece of home with me - I also took my shirt to NZ when I was 14 and my photo of me inside bag end is in the shirt! Through wearing the shirt I met Pompey fans in NZ, USA & Oz, I made friends, football was like a universal language!

I remember crying when I was younger at world cups/euros when England lost, just as children will cry tonight regardless of who wins. But the child in me is so excited for tonight and I won’t apologise for that.

All of the above being said, I am so fucking cross at the England fans who are using the football as an excuse to act like hooligans, especially during a Pandemic when all restrictions haven’t been lifted. Of course there’s a long history in England (well Britain in general) of football and violence/gangs/hooligans, but that’s a story for another day,

I hate that some idiot fans boo the other nationalities national anthems. I hate that the English always drink too much and smash things up, get violent - they are an absolute embarrassment. I hate the fact that some England fans use football to mask their racism. It fucks me off so much as, as usual it’s the small percentage who ruin it for the rest of us, it’s these absolute cunts who make all England fans look bad - and again the most upsetting thing here is that a lot of the good fans are children, families etc. 

As always the players, sports commentators, ex players etc. have asked fans not to boo, asked them to be respectful and so on...and as always some won’t listen. I just hope it isn’t too embarrassing and that no one gets hurt etc. But judging by all the singing I’ve been hearing so far today and car horns (nothing wrong with either of those) and the embarrassing scenes outside of Wembley with people trying to storm the stadium without tickets...a chance would be a fine thing. 

But sat at home with my cat and husband, I’m so excited for the game, whether England win or lose I’ll enjoy it. If Italy win i’ll be so happy for them too. I’m taking a hiatus because I know whatever the score, Tumblr is probably going to become a bit of a cesspit of insufferable gloating or insufferable hatred. My mental health needs a break from all this noise and nonsense. Posts have just been setting off my anxiety too frequently and leaving me feel scared, inadequate, like I don’t belong, useless and experiencing self-loathing. So for a few days I choose to enjoy peace and just being with people IRL. 

Love, football chants and peace x

P.S. Yes I put It’s coming home in the tags, no I won’t apologise, it’s an absolute banger of a tune and associated with family, friends and a lot of happy/silly memories. 

[bottleofspilledink]

God’s Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter XII

Eve arrived at school at exactly seven in the morning, a whole hour before class was supposed to start. She had gotten there in record time too, legs sore with how eager she was to leave the house.

You see, Eve had miscalculated her father’s arrival.

Severely.

Rather than arriving as she had slept, he walked through the door just in time for breakfast. Shirt crumpled, hair ruffled, a sated look in his brown eyes. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. They were too tired for that. Yes, long gone was the happy couple trying to make it all work. In their place, the shell of who they once were, wilting husks with only overwhelming sadness and a want for temporary pleasure filling it.

Breakfast was somehow worse than dinner. Far from suffocating, she felt as if she were choking despite how well she chewed her serving of eggs. The dining room, already nowhere near welcoming before, seemed to taint everything in it, the sour mood permeating it seeping into her orange juice, making it taste as if it had gone bad weeks ago. (It hadn’t, though. She even helped her mother load groceries into the refrigerator. The juice had been there for no more than two days.)

Eve sat on that on a wooden courtyard bench, the very same one she sat on just eleven days ago, legs sore from how fast she pedaled, aching almost as much as she ached to get out of that horrid hou-

“Shut up.” Her mind echoed. It was painful, how hard she hard to try to stop herself from saying things she shouldn’t, from doing things she shouldn’t. “You should be grateful you even have a family. You know how people here feel about broken homes and single moms…”

“Eve!” Elizabeth came up from behind her, slender arms wrapping around her in a hug. She was in a good mood, giggling behind her manicured hands, cheeks tinted the signature pink of love – or simply infatuation. It was hard to tell, really, if your friend truly loved a man when you yourself were incapable of such things, try as she might, no matter how hard she forced herself to.

Nothing came of it. Nothing would ever come of it.

“So, I’m assuming you had a fun night?”

Just because Eve didn’t understand what was so thrilling about kissing boys and all that came after it, didn’t mean she wouldn’t listen to Elizabeth’s excited ramblings of it. She knew what was expected of her. One day, hopefully not one day soon, she would find a boy she could tolerate, a decent one she would at least come to love as a friend; she would marry him and lie with him, as a good wife does and bear his children.

And she would tolerate it.

Just because she was like Lilith, didn’t mean she had to act like her, didn’t mean she had to act on what she felt for her.

“Not just a night!” Elizabeth’s dark eyes twinkled, gesturing wildly and almost obscenely with her hands. “I was with him every night during the weekend and Monday night. I got Mary to vouch for me so we could go out.”

“Out?”

The brunette nodded, clearly deliberate in stating that they went out in order to say: “He just got his driver’s license so we went out on his motorcycle to celebrate!”

“Motorcycle?” Eve perked up, pleasantly surprised her friend wasn’t here to brag about her sex life and the fact that Zachariah could drive. (Really, the last thing she needed was a detailed description of a blowjob, especially considering that her breakfast wasn’t sitting right with her, though that may just be her lingering dread speaking.)

“Yup! Since he’ll be on a scholarship for college next year, he convinced his parents to let him use the money they set aside for it to buy a bike.”

She went on about the boy and the places he’d taken her, a genuine joy in her every motion, in her every word, excitement clear to all who would lay eyes on her.

Oh, Eve could feel her happiness, potent, so close yet completely unattainable to the likes of her. That wasn’t a new realization, not by any means, no, but God, it was different this time; a bitter bile rising in her, leaving the taste of acid and envy and a sorrow not unlike that of resignment, of loss.

But between Elizabeth’s giggles and how nice the boy seemed to be, the taste would soon fade into a sweet sugar cookie sort of fondness.

Only a hint of that resignment remained, a tangy, rotten after taste.

...

Unlike the first day of their newly implemented schedule, today was not so tense.

Rather, the two girls sat next to each other, not even a ruler’s length apart, not tense but tenuous both of them lost in a labyrinth of thoughts and drowning in a sea of emotions either too scary to name or too muddled to be sure of, everything mixing and melding and melting like a soup with a certain ingredient you couldn’t quite place.

The memory of yesterday was burned into their minds, playing again and again on an endless loop for reasons they dare not say, the same words spoken and heard from slightly different perspectives with slightly different thoughts accompanying it.

For Lilith, yesterday was a sign of hope for Eve. She was willing to disobey, allowing herself the occasional indulgence with a bit of coaxing. All Eve needed was a nudge, a gentle push in the right direction. The redhead could imagine it quite vividly, the girl standing before her mother, letting lies slip from her lips, pretending to have been forced into a place of opposition she so evidently wanted to be in. Eve hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that her mother was the only thing keeping her from the club, either too tired to make up an excuse or just feeling comfortable enough to open up about it to her.

For Eve, yesterday was the end of playing dumb, the end of turning a blind eye to her own desires and the undeniable humanity of people… like Lilith. She could hardly believe all that had happened despite it being so clear in her head. Between what see had seen in the locker room and what had happened over lunch and the things she’d willingly done during club time… it was all too much.

Yesterday was the end of life as she knew it. Or rather, it was the beginning of the end.

After all, progress took time and it was by no means linear. Especially not during matters of this nature.

“So what did your mom say?” Lilith said. She was trying to separate what she felt for that woman from her voice, and she was doing well, disdain for her considered. Really, fussing over every little detail of her daughter was one thing but the fact that the concern she displayed was not for said daughter but for her future husband was something she couldn’t forgive. Still, she kept her language plain and her tone neutral. Most people didn’t take kindly to other’s insulting their mothers.

“Oh, I haven’t told her.” The way Eve’s voice trembled when she said that “oh” sent arrows through her heart, the dread palpable and utterly unnerving. “She hasn’t asked yet and I didn’t have a good time to bring it up so I’ll just wait for her to say something. Maybe she’s assuming I joined the book club again?”

A lie by omission was better than an outright one but it was a lie nonetheless and the guilt of it didn’t do much to ease the girl’s tension, though the fact that she would be able to avoid that conversation for a while longer did.

“Speaking of books,” Lilith coughed, deciding to change the topic before Eve withdrew into her mind “what did you guys do in that club? Just read all day and discuss books? Is there even anything good in that library?”

“Well, most of it is theology and reference books, yeah, but those can be good! There are a few volumes of Sherlock Holmes near the history section! It’s not a complete collection at all but definitely better than nothing.”

She could already feel the dopey grin making it’s way onto her face. In the short amount of time they’ve known each other, Lilith would be hard pressed to find a time Eve had been this happy about anything. Unbridled joy was a good look on everyone. The gleam in their eyes that only came from a genuine liking for something, the way they’d gesticulate, unable to contain all their passion.

Granted, Eve didn’t gesture so much as flap her hands about, but while joy looked good on everyone, it also looked different in everyone and Lilith found this eccentricity of hers adorable to no small degree.

“They have Phantom of the Opera tucked away somewhere near this compilation of Edgar Allan Poe I’ve been able to read a few times. A bit macabre but still good! Oh, you know they have books on gardening, too! I can show you next time we go and you can check out one or two if you want! The ones on herbs was fun but I think you’ll find the one on flower language an interesting read. It’s not exactly about gardening, but still. Did you know that the way you tied a bouquet could completely change the meaning of all the flowers you were trying to send?”

She spoke in a mix of short, rapid-fire sentences and long-winded rants, switching with no real pattern, rambling and occasionally straying to go on a tangent about a specific book or mention something about gardening, none of which Lilith understood, being unable to name any flowers by appearance other than rose, daisy, and sunflower, though she listened eagerly nonetheless.

“But back to books! Near the back, just by the cookbook – oh, and um, don’t tell anyone but –” Eve scooted her wooden chair across the wooden floor, mindlessly brushing Lilith’s hair back, placing her lip just two centimeters scant of her ear. “There are books hidden there, by older girls, I think. Ones that graduated a really long time ago.”

Eve’s ivory-like hands cupped the small space around Lilith’s ear, shielding their words from any listening ears, anything that happened behind her hands hidden from prying eyes. In the midst of her whispering, she realized she could kiss Lilith; a gentle peck on the shell of her ear. No one needed to know. Just a quick press of the lips, it wouldn’t take longer than a second… or two.

And though she ignored the impulse, the thought lingered.

“Love poems and romance novels. I’m pretty sure they wrote it all themselves. Two of them are just a bunch of papers with holes punched in the side tied together by string, no cover. Technically more manuscript than book but you know what I mean. The others are leather bound journals, hand-written.”

“No kidding?” The other asked, hushed, nothing anyone further than Eve would catch. She didn’t dare say it louder, both unwilling to let anyone eavesdrop on them and scared that the excessive movement of her jaw would lead Eve farther from her.

“Nope, they’re there.” She pulled away from the girl’s ear but didn’t bother to move her seat back to where it was, their legs pressed together beneath the table they shared. “I haven’t been able to read much of any of them cause I’m scared I’ll get too absorbed to notice anyone walking past but their poems are really good! I can show you sometime, along with the gardening books.”

“We can go there later, during lunch. I’ll keep watch for while you read.”

The offer turned the girl’s waning grin into a megawatt smile, dimpled and rosy cheeked, she looked like a Raphaelite painting, a masterpiece.

“Really?”

“Sure! I’m always up for a bit of casual disobedience.” She replied with a wink and a deep chuckle, using amusement as a cover for endearment.

“Holy cow, thank you so much! But I’m pretty sure we’re not actually breaking any rules, I–”

Smack!

“Everyone bring out your composition notebook! We’re going to use the rest of homeroom to learn how to read sheet music before proceeding to the music room so if you want to fool around on the piano you’d best master this quickly.”

With that, Eve jerked away from Lilith, bringing her chair along with her and causing a loud, grating noise to make it’s way through the now silent room, every head whipping around to face them, the eyes now bearing into them, mostly shocked, some irritated, with one judgmental look from the front, from Sister Bernadette.

“No movement of chairs unless otherwise stated!”

“But-”

“Put the seat back where it was immediately or get detention!”

Lilith then pulled the girl down into her seat, cutting off another protest and brought the seat back to where it was before the nun entered, effectively ridding all the space between them.

Only when the woman turned to face the blackboard did she whisper to Eve: “Don’t argue, even if they’re wrong. They’ll just call it disrespectful and send you to the principal’s.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, I’m just not used to getting yelled at here so I wasn’t sure about– I didn’t know what to do. Sorry, again…”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” She gave the blonde a teasing jab along with a soft smile, looking at the girl only from the corner of her sky blue eye so as not to invoke the further ire of the clearly on-edge teacher. “’Sides, the jokes on them. They’re still wrong and we get to stay like this. That’s a win-win if I’ve ever seen one, yeah?”

Eve huffed, a small laugh, in part a sort of thanks for the given consolation, in part a sort of reassurance to the other that she’d be okay, that she’d bounce back.

“Yeah.”

In the end, they weren’t able to go to the music room.

...

The hours passed, only a few words passing between the girls every so often, most of it questions related to the work they were assigned. They were careful, Eve unwilling to anger any other authority figures, Lilith trying to fly under the radar, admittedly rather afraid of being called into Mother Cecilia’s office over even trivial matters, knowing it would lead to yet another interrogation regarding the fire.

But finally, the lunch bell rang, granting them freedom and the ability to be enthusiastic without repercussion. (As long as they weren’t too noisy, of course.) All the anticipation and excitement led to Eve shooting out of her chair and practically sprinting to the library, books shoved haphazardly into her book bag as Lilith followed not too far behind her, pleasantly surprised at her actions, though with more emphasis on the pleasant and not so much on the surprised.

“It’s right this way,” The blonde said, not bothering to drop her bag down in her usual seat as they ventured deeper into the library.

Eventually, they reached the deepest, mustiest park of the library, all the shelves covered in a thin sheen of dust save for a single row level with their knees. The sun streaming in from the arching windows only served to accentuate how unkempt the place was, illuminating the dust particles that flew into the air when Eve took to her knees to retrieve the books she spoke so eagerly about.

“The last time I’ve been able to peek at them was a few weeks before summer, so sorry for the dust. You’re not asthmatic, right?” She pulled out a few of the recipe books, setting them aside before reaching in deeper to grab a stack of papers, bound with string, it’s outer most page containing nothing more than a title and a name. Sticking her arm in a bit more, she pulled out two leather journals, putting them down atop the manuscript before taking a few more cookbooks from the shelf and grabbing the last journal along with manuscript type book.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

Lilith crouched down next to her, looking at the stack Eve made. The paper ones were practically identical save for a difference in thickness while the leather-bound books varied in colour, one the usual coffee brown, the other a matte black, and the last one a fine, wine-red.

“So, how’d you find all this anyway?” The redhead asked, taking the brown book from the stack, flicking through a random page and instantly regretting it as a cloud of dust came from it, resulting in a rather violent coughing fit, Eve rushing to her and patting her back as her lungs tried to expel themselves through her mouth.

“Are you sure you’re not asthmatic?”

“Eve, I’m not sure how to break it to you, but anyone that gets hit with a face-full of dust is gonna cough a bit. I’ll live.”

“Good point.” She reached over to her bag and took a tumbler from it. “Water?”

Lilith’s fingers brushed against Eve’s as the dark green bottle switched hands, reminiscent of the brief touch they shared the first time they met, on that fateful, windy day in the courtyard.

“Thanks.”

There were a handful of things she expected to happen today, things she prepared an appropriate response for. Watching Lilith gulp down water like a dying man, seeing her throat work with every sip, eyes following the stray drops that rolled down her chin and her neck, making it’s way to the opening of her shirt before finally stopping, absorbed by the fabric that now clung to parts of her chest, was evidently not one of those things.

“T-thanks to you, too… Lilith.”

The girl in question merely raised an eyebrow and snorted.

“If you wanted to start with this book, you could’ve just said so.”

Lilith passed the book she was holding to her, instead grabbing the red one and holding it out an arm’s length away and flapping it about, effectively getting most of the dust out.

They settled into a comfortable silence after that, content to exist in the same space, unburdened by the unspoken as they read. Sock-clad legs parallel to each other, pressed flush against the flesh, they looked so similar to how they did yesterday, this morning.

Lighter, though. Somehow.

Perhaps it was the lack of looming dread, the weight of anxiety gone from Eve’s mind, for now at least. Perhaps it was the lack of fear, Lilith’s worry for Eve gone, again, if only for now.

...

As Eve went on, she became enamored by the prose, the delicate descriptions crafted from simple every day life and feelings, invested by the admittedly somewhat familiar protagonist, Nina, and her best friend, Rosalie, or as Nina would so fondly call her, Rosie.

Bit by bit, though, things were changing between them. Or maybe they haven’t changed at all and she was just blind to it. Either way though, things became different, odd, queer.

“I carded my hands through her soft, black hair just like I had so many times before. “Will you braid it for me?” She asked, lifting her head from off my lap, resting on her elbows. Not quite lying down, not quite sitting up.”

She couldn’t help but think that the first sentence implied something.

“Rosalie would get her blazer dirty, stomach pressed into the grass as she traced patterns on my lap, the fabric of my skirt shifting, spiraling. “Of course,” I couldn’t say no if I wanted to, but why would I even consider refusing her?”

The way Nina spoke about Rosalie, the way Rosalie spoke to her in turn, the affection they showed to each other, the way she would describe Rosalie in text was akin to that of love… romantic love.

Eve brushed the thoughts aside though, knowing she was probably just projecting her own perversions on the perfectly normal, heterosexual girls.

“We sat there and spoke of the future, a house deep in the woods, an aged, fat cat. Preferably a tabby. I plucked flowers, giving them a new home with her as I wove it into the braid. Call me sacrilegious but she looked like a God, of-the-earth, of me. She was my God. I’d get in trouble if I ever said that out loud. But then again, I’d get in trouble for practically everything I did with Rosie”

Alright, maybe it wasn’t just Eve.

“After finishing the braid, I took a compact mirror from my pocket. “What do you think?” She giggled, deep, brown eyes looking around at the empty field before shimmying over to me, laying a gentle kiss on my cheek. “It’s lovely. You’re lovely.” She moved once more, settling on my lap, lips trailing across my forehead, my eye, my nose, my cheek. Tease. At long last, though, her lips met mine, pressing against me with a soft passion-”

She dropped the book, hands by her head as a sort of surrender to whatever god may be watching her, judging her, face flushed, chest heaving.

Lilith looked up from her book. “You okay?”

She read that. She enjoyed that.

That knowledge was the straw that broke the camel’s still recovering back.

The guilt from yesterday and everyday before that built up in her lungs, drowning her, hastening her hellish damnation. Her thoughts were consumed by apologies and prayers and pleas for a mercy she wasn’t deserving of.

Tears fell from her face like angels from the sky, a testament to her sins, her guilt.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Suffocating, stifling, sinful guilt.

Crashing down on her as if she was being smitten, painful and shameful and rightful guilt.

She sobbed and shook, hands over her mouth to stop herself from wailing her anguish, her agony, her guilt.

But a pair hands weren’t enough to contain everything in her and all that spilled out. Nothing was.

Whimpers escaped through the gaps of her fingers, Lilith forgetting her shock and rushing over to comfort her.

It only made her cry harder. Lilith’s touch burned.

Eve clung to her though, rising to her knees, hands clutching at Lilith’s shirt.

It was yesterday all over again.

It was worse.

She couldn’t deny what she was anymore. Every passing second made it harder to craft lies and alibis and that would be a sin too and she’d go to hell regardless.

Burying her face in the crook of Lilith’s neck in a futile attempt to silence herself, Eve could smell the sweet, apple cinnamon perfume the girl had sprayed on earlier.

The way the scent made her face flush, even with everything going on and everything she was feeling was sick.

It twisted her stomach.

She felt disgusting, sinful, wrong, guilty.

But as she sobbed and shuddered and breathed the scent in…

It twisted her stomach.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

...

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, Eve.” She whispered, soft, the words meant for one person and one person only.

Lilith wasn’t a naturally soothing person. Never in her life did she have to console someone in such a way, her friends all preferring to be distracted from their sorrows by quips and jokes. This was different, though. Eve was different.

Eve made her soft and kind to a degree she could hardly fathom. Gone was her icy exterior and harsh features, traded in for a comforting smile and gentle hands.

The girl sobbed and prayed into her shoulder, unable to hear her over muttered prayers and the sound of her own heartbeat, a frantic thump in her heaving chest.

From an outsider’s point of view, it would look like Eve was the one doing the comforting, seeming to pray over Lilith in a manner akin to that to someone being exorcised, a two-person prayer circle.

“Eve,” She whispered, gently trying to pry the girl away from her so she could talk, immediately stopping when the blonde only cried harder at the gesture. “I’m gonna need you to take deep breaths, Eve. Can you do that for me, please?”

The girl hiccupped, body wracked by sobs though clearly trying to follow.

“That’s right, just like that.”

Lilith’s spindly hands made her way up and down Eve’s back in tranquil motions.

“Wanna tell me what’s making you cry? I won’t tell anyone not even Paula and Joan.”

Eve shook her head, not even lifting her head from the crook of Lilith’s neck, her tip of her nose drawing a line from where her neck sloped down to her shoulders.

“Are you sure?”

“Yea-ah…”

Breathing still ragged, eyes still red-rimmed, cheeks still tear-stained, she pulled away from Lilith, sniveling.

“I’m s-sorry, I don’t know why I’m even crying-”

She cut the blonde off, though. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. But please don’t lie to me. You know why you’re crying. I’m not gonna make you talk about it, but you know.”

“Okay.” Eve whispered, a sort of willing surrender.

It was evident to Lilith that she wanted to talk. Shame held her back, unfortunate and burdensome. She didn’t speak, instead picking up the book from where it fell, opening to the page she had last read, finger tapping the paragraph before sliding the book across the small gap between them.

She skimmed over the paragraph and a few thereafter, finding nothing of note until she finally saw what Eve meant.

“This is what you were crying over?”

All she got in response was a nod, the girl looking to be on the brink of tears again.

“Why?”

Eve shook her head again. Her lip trembled, jutting out like a child trying their best not to cry.

“If I guess right will you tell me?”

Nothing.

“Want me to stop?”

Again, there was no reply.

“Can you tell me what you want me to do?”

A shrug of the shoulders. Nothing else.

“Do you know what you want me to do?”

She shook her head no, a few tears going with it. The only thing that left her mouth was a shaky sigh as she carded her hands through her hair. Tired. Eve looked tired. She was all that and more.

Lilith looked away from her, the pity she felt too much. There was nothing she could do. If only for a moment, she felt the degree of helplessness Eve felt, knowing she couldn’t help. It wasn’t foreign to her, helplessness. It was like seeing an old friend.

She could never bring herself to be angry or even annoyed at what was happening to Eve. Not when it’s happened to her, to Paula, to Joan, to Julia, to Colette.

Lost in thought, she was snapped back to reality as Eve dragged her closer, making her face away as the girl hugged her from behind.

Eve cried into her. It wasn’t the way she cried mere minutes ago, however. It was calmer, no hiccups or shaking. Only tears streaming down the girl’s face and soaking into Lilith’s shirt with a sniffle every once and a while.

Time passed and Lilith grew bolder, hand wandering to where Eve’s were wrapped around her stomach. Her touch was tentative, Eve’s hand treated like a fine porcelain piece.

“Is this okay?”

“No.” She said.

But she didn’t push Lilith’s away, instead opting to hold it, their fingers weaving together, slotting together as if their very flesh and bone were sculpted to be together, to intertwine, to love.

How cruel of God to craft two people for each other the turn to create a world were they were not to be.

“None of this is okay.”

______________________

Taglist: @anomiewrites @leahstypewriter @madame-ree @melpomenismask @littlemisscalamity @phillyinthebathroom @gaypeaches @extrabitterbrain @pirateofblood @i-wanna-be-a-rock

[northcarolinanative]

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝟷𝟶)

Chapter 10: Pogue

A/N: Hey guys!! Thank you for all the feedback on the last part!! It means the world to me!! I hope you like part 10!! It is so crazy that I have written 10 parts of this story, and hopefully more haha! As always my message and inbox are open for requests or just to talk!! Also a TW: Physical Assault and Violence, cursing, depictions of harm, Rafe being an asshole per usual.  

Description: John B’s Sister comes home from staying with their mom, only to find out that her brother is missing and her dad was murdered. JJ may have just lost his best friend. She and JJ have to figure out what to do and how to pick up the pieces.

Need to catch up? Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch.3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch.6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8  / Ch.9 

I was frozen in my spot. My blood went cold, I didn’t know what to do. He killed the sheriff and ran my brother away from the island and into the sea because he couldn’t stand up and own up to his actions. He had the guts to pull the trigger, but not to own up to it. I tried to move my feet but they were frozen in place. I felt the goosebumps begin to raise on my arms as he took a few steps toward me. I had never really been a fighter. There wasn’t much need on the mainland, and here I was always surrounded by JJ and John B, who fought for me, even if I didn’t agree with it. At this moment I was scared and really wishing I had taken them up on that offer. 

He didn’t speak until he was steps away from me. His glance was harsh, and his eyes were dark. They were sunken into his face, and his cheekbones more prominent. He looked terrible, but he deserved to be eaten up from the inside out. “You have a lot of nerves coming in here,” he said. His walk almost like a stalk, slow and predatory. I just looked at him, I tried to put on my most confident facade, but I was shaken inside. I never liked Rafe, but now I'm scared of him, he killed someone, then went about his life. “You’re brother killed the Sheriff and you’re here, for what, to beg for our money?” He scoffed at me moving faster. 

“Do I look stupid? You killed Peterk–” I was cut off but Rafe pushed me against the wall with his hand around my throat. “Don’t you ever say those words again” he tightened his grip on my throat. I felt his fingers dig into my skin. “You fucking pogue” He gave me the last push before releasing me. 

I sucked in a breath. I was seething, I could practically feel the anger running through my veins. I walked toward him, I didn’t want to show fear. “What makes it okay for you to be walking around here after what you did? Huh? You’re a kook, right?” I put my finger in his chest. “That’s why my brother is missing at sea and you aren’t rotting in a jail cell right now.” My words came out through clenched teeth. 

Rafe was quick to grab my wrist and twist it harshly away from me. I kicked back into his knee trying to get free. He backed me up against the wall again, using his height and power against me, his arm under my chin pressing my chest hard. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He spat his words at me. 

“What is it a secret?”  I squinted with sarcasm dripping from my voice. “What? That you Rafe Cameron are a manipulative murd--” I was cut off with a hit to the left side of my face. I didn’t have time to brace for the impact and fell to the ground. By now we had drawn the attention of the other club members. 

Rafe kneeled down next to me. “Next time you’ll keep your mouth shut bitch.” He stood up beginning to walk away. 

“What is going on out here?” Mr. Jones walked out looking between me, on the ground holding my hand over my now swelling cheekbone, and Rafe. 

“You see Y/N Routledge here, was trying to follow after her brother, coming after me,”  Rafe said before turning the corner, back to the parking lot. 

“No. He was tormenting me, Mr. Jones! You know me!” I started to beg. “I wouldn–” 

“You’re Routledge’s kid?” He asked me. I just nodded my head looking down at the ground, unable to look at his face. I knew what was coming. It was inevitable. “I don’t think that it would be good for you to work here this summer. With everything that happened with the other Routledge kid…” He paused putting his hand on my shoulder. “It has nothing to do with you, but I don’t want people to mess with you like what just happened out there. I’m sorry Y/N” 

I nodded a quick, “I understand.” I walked out keeping my head down again. I pushed open the large stained glass doors. Instantly missing the cool air-conditioning of the country club. I pulled my hair back to stop it from sticking to the back of my neck. 

“Y/N” I flinched away from the voice. “Y/N is that you.” I turned, recognizing the voice. I saw Pope jogging toward me, his hands full of groceries. “What are you doing at the country club?” He asked. 

“I could ask you the same thing?” I said, forcing a smile, only for a pain to shoot through the side of my face. 

“Wait what happened to you?” Pope said, dropping the grocery bags and touching my cheek. “You’re bleeding.” He took his hand down to show me the red blood that was on his thumb. I looked shocked, I guess the adrenaline was still kicked in. “I’m going to run the last of the deliveries to The Wreck, let's go there and get you cleaned up?” 

“Oh no. I really don’t think I should be around Kiara right now.” I said shaking my head and heading off toward my car. 

“Y/N. don’t be stubborn, you need to take care of that, you’re covered in bruises and you know that there isn’t great equipment at the Chateau right?” Pope had picked up his bags matching pace with mine. “Plus Kie feels really bad about what she said. She’s dealing with this a lot differently than you and JJ.” 

I opened the back of the car, helping him put the remaining groceries in the back of the car, giving in. I knew that I would need to work things out with them eventually. “I hope she shares with me what you said. I’m not gonna let what she said go easily, it hurt Pope.” I finished, raising my eyebrows in his direction before closing the hatch rather harshly. 

We settled into the car, each of us putting our seatbelts on. “Are you okay to drive? You don’t have a concussion do you?” He said putting his hand on the gearshift before I moved to drive away. 

“I’m fine, no head injuries. I promise.” I held up my pinky finger. I felt like we were kids again, it was something that we all used to do. Kie and I started it of course, but somehow drug the boys into joining us. 

Pope shook his head, but smiled and linked his finger with mine. “I just texted Kie to tell her we are on the way.” Pope’s eyes scanned over my face and neck “Your neck is turning purple. Seriously Y/N what happened back there?” 

I just shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about it okay?” I looked over at the phone in his hands. “Do you think you text JJ? Tell him I’ll be at the Wreck?” 

“Yea,” Pope said. I heard the question in his voice as he stared down at his phone. 

“I told him I was going to find a job, don’t want him to come looking for me ya know?” I said forcing a smile. “So, I know how the rest of us are doing, but how are you doing with all of this?” I asked. No one had seemed to ask Pope's opinion in the midst of the argument the other day. 

“Oh,” He paused before I heard him take in a deep breath. I turned the car back onto the main road toward The Wreck. “I don’t know. I just miss his, like we’ve all seen each other every day since I can remember, and now he’s like not here anymore. Part of me wants to believe he’s out there.” 

I thought about telling him what JJ and I had found, but I felt like it was too soon. I didn’t want to give him the same hope, then have to crush it if it wasn’t going to. It might have also been me being selfish because of what happened the other day, but I wanted to wait to tell them. 

“I get it, I was expecting to see John B walk through that door when I got back, but instead I got JJ,” I said with a giggle. This comment seemed to lighten the mood of the car as it sent Pope into a fit of laughter. 

JJ. He wasn’t going to let this go, he wouldn’t take me not wanting to talk about it for an answer. I didn’t want him anywhere near Rafe. If I was being completely honest with myself, Rafe scared the hell out of me. He was a murder, and the way he treated me, with no caution to try and silence me, showed that he had no remorse. 

I pulled myself from my thoughts as we pulled into the parking lot at the Wreck. I helped Pope with the grocery bags. I ignore the pain in my wrist as I load groceries into my arms. 

“Ah, Pope!! Always right on time with the groceries, just when I need them” Mr. C said as He walked into the room, Kie close behind. Mr.C took groceries from my arms before turning back to the kitchen. She was notably shocked to see me standing there with groceries. As she looked over my face her eyes grew wide. “Y/N What the hell?”

“I was hoping you could help her get cleaned up?” Pope asked following Mr. C into the kitchen. Kie nodded her head. 

I could see the look of worry on her face. “Follow me,” She said. We slide around workers through the kitchen and into the back office. “Sit here, okay?” she sent a slight smile my way, patting the edge of the empty desk. She reached into a drawer pulling out a first aid kit. 

“Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic Kie, it's a few bruises,” I said laughing with her. 

“John B would kill me if I didn’t take care of you, you know?” She smiled and started to unwrap the alcohol wipes. I felt the sting of the disinfectant, flinching away when she first started to clean the split on my face. “Look I am really sorry about what I said yesterday Y/N. It was totally uncalled for what I said. I know that it doesn’t excuse my actions, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up, because it would only hurt that much worse in the long run if it turns out to be true.” He started to rub cooling cream over the bruising around the cut. 

“Kie it’s okay” I breathed. I was glad I didn’t tell Pope about the discovery that JJ and I found. “I understand that. We’re all coping in different ways. I shouldn’t have jumped onto you as I did either. We all process differently.” I sent her a small smile. While I forgave her, I found it harder to want to open up to her. In the past, I might have come to her with boy issues or even the encounter with Rafe right away. 

“Y/N is this a handprint around your throat,” Kie said, staring deep into my eyes. I felt tears start to fill in my eyes. The pain in my cheek started to finally hurt, I could feel it throbbing. I quickly looked down. Kie moved my head looking up so that she could apply the same cream to the red mark on my neck. I heard a commotion outside the door, quickly moving to look at the door. “Probably just someone dropping something in the kitchen.” She smiled softly at me. I looked down at the floor as she capped the cream on the floor. “So are you gonna tell me what happened, who beat you up like this?” Kie asked, her voice dripping with worry. 

“You know, I’d really like to know who I have to kill?” JJ said entering the room. He took a quick glance over me. He practically pushed Kie out of the way to wrap his arms around me. I hooked my chin over his shoulder to see Pope in the doorway to the office. I wrapped my arms around his neck. His hug was tight and protective. “JJ. Thank you, but if you don’t let go so I can breathe you might kill me.” I laughed at my joke. 

“How are you joking right now?” He pulled back and put his hands on either of my shoulders. 

“I’m fine J. Really. See?” I moved my legs on either side of him and wiggled my arms. 

He scrunched his eyebrows looking at me. I could see the hurt in his eyes and I smiled, feeling the tears coming back to the forefront of my eyes. JJ moved his thumb to carefully trace the cut in my cheek with his thumb, letting his finger trace down my jaw to the darkening handprint on my throat. I heard him take in a deep breath as he saw it. “Y/N Cut the shit. Who did this?” He asked. I could see the anger growing behind his words. Kie came up beside me with Pope following behind her. 

“Seriously, you can tell us?” She said. I could see the pity in her eyes. That is what I didn’t want, pity from any of them. 

I looked back at JJ. and hung my head low. “I went to the country club, that’s where Pope found me, to try and get my job back. I worked there every summer, and I know I would need the money.” I started, JJ’s eyes met mine. He was focused on everything that I was saying. “And Mr. Jones had me step out and wait while he scanned in paperwork or whatever. And I ran into someone there, who wasn’t happy that I was back.” 

“Obviously. Who was it Y/N?” JJ asked. He wasn’t being pushy, he just wanted to help. 

“It was Rafe,” I said, swallowing after the name left my mouth. 

JJ turned away from me. He ran his hands through his hair, I heard his breathing pick up. I saw Kie and Pope’s faces look just the same. “I am gonna kill him. What can’t he get away with?” JJ was seething. 

“No, I provoked him. He came up to me and started talking about how JB killed Peterkin, and I snapped. I told him I knew that he did it, he killed her. He tried to shut me up, obviously, until Mr. Jones came out and he left. I didn’t get my job back, but are we surprised?” I let out a cynical laugh.  

“Hey hey” JJ walked back up to me. I could feel the anger radiating off of him, but his composure seemed calmer. He was so close. He was standing between my legs. My thoughts going back to the conversation we had last night. He put his hand on my chin forcing me to look up at him. “You did not provoke him, Y/N. He’s a murder, who’s walking free. You did the right thing calling him out. Don’t think for a second that this was your fault, alright?” 

“Alright.”  

--

Masterlist

--

Taglist: @nikki082489 @lovelymaybankk @dolanfivsosxox @alexa-playafricabytoto @downbytheouterbanks @heyhargrove @heywards​ @kayln021 @readysteadygo23​ @im-a-stranger-thing​ @thatsonobx​ @dumbxgurl​ @ameeraaa21@zehnuhrfunf​ @imagines-and-preferences1216​ @mileven-reddie​ @sw-eat-ing​

If you wanna be added to a tag list please send me an ask, it makes it easier to keep up with:) if your user is crossed out it wouldn’t let me tag you?

[pigtownchronicles]

Chapter 2.6 - Counteroffers and Missing Pieces

Of all the things that Barry had considered that meeting might be, he was left with a result, afterward, that was so far beyond his expectations that by the time he got home, he was sure that it must have been a dream of some sort. A hallucination, perhaps. He checked his wallet twice, but everything was there. He hadn’t given out any personal information that he could recall, but maybe he’d been under some sort of strange influence, and just didn’t remember. Dennis asked him why he was home late, and he came up with some excuse about working late on a deadline for a meeting in the morning that seemed to satisfy him. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure that Dennis particularly cared, beyond the fact that it was a disruption in his routine.

Dinner had already been made, and he ate it alone, since Dennis never waited for him to get home if he was late. He thought again about what he had felt for that moment, under the effect of that dust, the sheer lust for life that had pulsed in his veins, but while he appreciated the sensation, it was not what he wanted, not really. He wanted something more...ephemeral than that. He wanted a husband who would be willing to wait until he got home, who would eat with him, who would ask him about his day and genuinely care about his answers. He wanted a job that gave him a sense of dignity and respect, without feeling like he was being constantly placated with condescension. He felt like everyone around him treated him like a child. He tried to push beyond himself, wondering if he was asking for this. Maybe he was a little childish. A little petulant and unfocused, a little afraid of commitment and authority. But that wasn’t his fault. He’d just never been given a chance to show that he could do it. That he could be the adult in the room. They treated him like a child, which made him want to act like a child, which only reinforced the way they all treated him. A vicious cycle, one he’d been swirling in too long to see the edge, but this was a sword that could cut through all of it. He just wanted respect--and even if he couldn’t get something so immaterial, maybe he could at least get that...promotion.

It seemed like it should be possible to him, given what he’d seen and learned today. The more he thought about it, the more right it sounded, and the more he was willing to accept what he’d seen, if it might mean getting the life he thought he deserved. Dennis asked him if he wanted to join him on his evening constitutional around the neighborhood, and Barry declined. Instead, he went up to his office upstairs, and gave Ian a call. He’d expected him to agree, but instead, Ian gave him a sigh. A familiar sigh, to Barry. It was a sigh people gave him when he’d asked for too much, for something an adult would understand was impossible.

“Well see, now we’re not so much talking about you as a seller, and changing our conversation to that of a buyer,” Ian said.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, now you’re asking for something that’s worth more than what you have to offer, which means it’s going to have to come with a price tag. That’s not a problem, mind you, but to get my hands on something like that--to find someone willing to give it up...It’s not impossible, mind you, just, well, let me quote you something.”

He gave Barry a number that made his guts twist around a bit inside. They were wealthy, sure, but not...like that. “You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not.”

“Anyone who could pay that sort of money could already buy the damn respect of people in the first place!”

“You’re not wrong,” Ian said. “There is another possibility.”

“What?”

“If you were to...acquire someone with the sort of qualities that you’re looking for, and then perhaps bring them here, I could see that you get a finder’s fee for the service.”

“I don’t...know if I quite understand what you mean.”

“If you’re asking for this, then you already know someone who has what you desire, don’t you?”

“Hypothetically, yes.”

“Then if you were to bring them to the house, I would be able to process them. You would get what you desire, and I would be able to process the rest into goods to be brokered with others.”

“That’s...I mean, what happens to them?”

“I’m a broker. There’s always a buyer, even for waste product in most situations.”

“I see.”

“Do keep in mind my other offer though, Barry. I do think that you have some prime assets to sell, and you would be quite satisfied with the results, I assure you.”

“I...I’ll let you know.”

“Have a good evening.”

Barry hung up, and considered what Ian had told him. He thought about Richard again. He thought about how everyone was going out on Friday evening. He pushed that away, but each time it did, it came circling back again, and each time, it looked a little more attractive than before.

Meanwhile, Dennis was walking the neighborhood in the pleasant summer evening. It was almost eight and the sun was still shining near the horizon, folks were out on their porches, kids were out in the street chasing each other. It was pleasant. It felt normal, and comforting to him. He waved at the various families he passed, stopping on occasion to catch up, to ask how their gardens were doing, if they had any vacation plans. He worked his way down the street until he reached the house where Kyle lived, and saw Kyle’s father in the garage, working on some project. He gave a wave, and got a scowl back at first, but then a half-hearted wave in return. Dennis figured it would be better to keep walking, but you didn’t change minds without a bit of exposure. “How’s the project going, Eric?” he said.

“Just fine, thanks for asking.”

“Good to hear. Hey, how’s Kyle doing? Barry and I might be taking a week in August for a trip to see our folks, and we’d love him to watch the cat.”

“Why the fuck would I know that that faggot son of mine is up to?” Eric spat back at him, and Dennis looked at him, confused. Had...Kyle told him?

“What...what happened?”

“Moved into the city after he graduated, told us he was gay, that he didn’t want anything to do with us. Haven’t heard from him sense, and don’t fucking want to. At least he had the decency to not make me pay for his fucking college tuition--won’t be getting a dime of my money if I have anything to say about it.”

Dennis took all that in, gave another wave, as Eric went back to his project, and he kept walking, picking up his pace a bit, trying to sort out what he’d just learned. Kyle hadn’t moved out, had he? Hell, just a few days ago, they’d brought him home from the club! Dennis tried to pin down the events, but as he did, they were getting a little foggy and confused. He did remember seeing Kyle in the club with that bear, but...

He got home, went upstairs and found Barry in his office, head in his hands and staring at his phone. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Huh? Sure, what’s up.”

“We...gave Kyle a ride home on Friday, didn’t we?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I swear we did.”

“Dennis, Kyle moved out his parents place a few months ago. We saw him at the club with that older guy, yeah, but...” Barry shrugged, “The kid’s making his own choices now. Nothing we can do about it, you know?”

“I guess,” Dennis said, standing in the doorway, still trying to sort out his own memory. There was something else too, nagging at him. Something that seemed to be missing, another little piece of the puzzle, but one that had mysteriously slipped from the box. “I’m gonna go to bed early, I have a surgery tomorrow.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in a bit,” Barry said.

He heard Dennis go into the bedroom and the shower turn on, and he picked up the phone again, and saw that Ian had replied to his text asking for Hugh’s contact number, and given it to him. He put in the contact, and sent another message to Hugh, and then sat there, anxiously waiting for a reply. He had a hard time taking his own mind on this seriously, but it was the first idea in a very long time that he felt a sense of certainty about. If he wanted people to respect him, then he was going to have to get out of this hole he was in. This was the first time someone had offered him a way out--and he wasn’t going to back away from it, not this time. His days of being treated like a child were over.

***

Want more Pigtown Chronicles? Support me over on my Patreon, and you can get early access to new chapters, along with loads of other content!

[theliterateape]

Why Keep Giving Facebook My Business?

By David Himmel

It was the day after Christmas, 1996. I was a senior in high school on winter break. My friends and I piled into Brad Feely’s red Jeep Cherokee—me in the trunk because there weren’t enough seats for all of us and I was the smallest and cramming into a car too small for the passenger load is what high school kids do. We were headed to the mall to return ill-fitting gifts and fuck around because fucking around at the mall is—was—what high school kids do.

Brad had some things to return or exchange at Abercrombie & Fitch. He was at the checkout counter with the young woman making the exchanges. The rest of us wandered around the store. I started throwing on shirts, coats, hats, scarves, and such and acted out a runway fashion show. My friends giggled. I went bigger with my one-man flash mob fashion show. Other customers stared, some laughed, some ignored me. I went bigger. My friends laughed harder. Other customers laughed harder and tried to ignore me. I had achieved my goal. I’d fucked around in a store and made people laugh.

I took off the clothes, placed them back on the racks and shelves and walked up to Brad still at the counter. The employee had stepped into the back to retrieve something.

“Almost done?” I asked him.

He whispered to me, “You won’t believe what this girl just said about you.”

“What.”

“She called you a ‘dirty faggot.’”

“What!?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure.”

“One hundred percent. She said it under her breath, but, yeah. I heard her say it.”

I waited there for the young woman to return. A few moments later, she did. She finished up Brad’s exchanges, handed him his bag of stuff and said, “Have a nice day.”

“Excuse me,” I said to her, leaning in so as not to make a scene. Because this scene wasn’t going to be funny. But I was sure not to be too quiet about it since I did want the store to know what was going on. “Did you see my fashion show?”

“Um. Yeah?”

“Did you like it?”

She smirked uncomfortably. “Sure.”

“So why would you call me a ‘dirty faggot’?” Her face went white. Blank. Her eyes wide. Mouth agape. She’d been caught. “Yeah. My friend here heard you say it. So my question to you is this: What was dirty about what I was doing? And what about what I was doing made me a ‘faggot’? And if you thought I was being gay, what’s wrong with that? And why would you refer to a gay person as a ‘faggot’? Seems a little hateful.”

“I… I…” she stuttered, still pale faced and surprised.

“Doesn’t seem like the best customer service, does it? Insulting your customers—or their friends—with homophobic slurs.”

“I… I…”

“Yeah. Mind your mouth. Don’t be such a hateful, homophobic asshole. Especially in a store filled with photos of what have to be the gayest modeling shoots in retail history.”

People were watching and I took the cue to go louder. “That’s right, everyone. This woman, this Abercrombie & Fitch employee called me a ‘dirty faggot’. Just know the kind of person you’re buying your clothes from.”

I saw one guy drop whatever was in his arms and walk out. My friends and I followed suit.

✶

I never stepped foot in an Abercrombie & Fitch store after that. And I’m proud to say I never owned or wore a single item of theirs after my impromptu fashion show. Yeah, sure. She was a bad apple, but still. It had turned me off to the whole brand. Fuck ‘em.

Did my not buying their mostly ugly clothes—country club grunge?—hurt their bottom line? Did it send a message? No. Certainly not. Did it change the mind and behavior of that employee? I have no idea. Maybe. Maybe she’s a super-duper social justice warrior today. Maybe she doubled down and tried to Stop the Steal. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I experienced an insult to the customer and a group of people, and chose not to give that company my money.

I don’t shop at Hobby Lobby because of their treatment of workers—denying them birth control through their benefits program. I don’t eat Chick-fil-A because they oppose marriage equality and used to fund activities to suppress it. I wring my hands every time I order something on Amazon because I’m worried the worker filling my order might piss or shit themselves trying to meet their quota with my order. Or worse, get hurt doing so. Because we all know that Amazon treats its warehouse workers like demented mules instead of actual human beings with physiological limitations and full bladders.

It’s principle. I try to spend where my money will do the least harm because I know, in most instances, my spending won’t help much other than to keep someone employed at a shit job and make the owner that much richer.

So why haven’t I quit Facebook yet? Same reason I haven’t quit Amazon: It’s too convenient.

Also like Amazon, but far worse, Facebook is a monster. It was from the start. I joined under duress in 2008 because it was part of my job. When that job laid me off in the wake of the Great Recession, I killed the account. But Facebook gained more and more traction, and it seemed that I was missing out. Plus, it was a great way to promote the shows I was writing and producing. And I reconnected with old friends from lives past. Fun!

It became a reflexive way to procrastinate. Instead of standing up and stretching or reading a news story or going for a walk, I’d scroll mindlessly. Still, it was fun. It became a habit I wasn’t even aware of.

And it’s still fun, sometimes. I enjoy being easily—reflexively lazy—connected to those old pals I don’t see every day and probably wouldn’t communicate with if not for the ease of Facebook. But Facebook is bad. And when I say Facebook, I’m including Instagram, which I rarely use. (I have no issue with WhatsApp but I also only use that maybe once every two years.) They both suck. So it’s bad for our brains, bad for our body images, bad for democracy, bad for discourse, and so on. None of this is news. And this week’s whistleblowing of how actively evil Facebook leadership is reinforces the fact of how bad it apparently wants to be. And that’s insulting to all of its users and even non-users.

Because Facebook could still make millions of dollars a week and take active measures to be a better corporate citizen, a better steward of human decency. Like, has Facebook even added a pink ribbon to its logo for Breast Cancer Awareness Month? I don’t think so. Evil.*

I don’t need Facebook. The community groups are nice. And I really do like seeing those old friends I wouldn’t otherwise communicate with. And I take joy in the possibility that ex-girlfriends might occasionally poke through my profile and see how awesome my hair is. But I don’t need it. If I want to promote something, I can place an ad anywhere else. My god, what did we do before Facebook? And there are so many other digital ways to share our bullshit.

If I leave, will Facebook feel it? Nope. Just like Abercrombie. My aversion is less than a pebble drop in the ocean. But I’ll feel better. Right? I’ll miss my friends I wouldn’t otherwise talk to, but if they mattered that much to me, I could make the effort to text or call. But I won’t. Because the apparent truth is that having them as friends on Facebook is more about the voyeurism. So wait, are we even friends then? Jesus. Facebook has even warped our sense of friendship. 

I don’t know if I’ll leave it. But it’s been on my mind for a while now. Maybe I won’t go cold turkey, maybe I’ll start by deleting the app from my phone. Or maybe it’s best to pack up all my shit and walk right out. That’s the advice I’d give to someone else in an abusive relationship.

 *Just so we’re clear, this whole going pink in October thing that companies, local police departments, sports organizations love to do is dumb. It’s the bare minimum at best and limp virtue signaling at worst. If you really care about breast cancer, do a better job of caring about women. So, you know, pay better wages, offer childcare, don’t shoot them in their homes. Take your pink ribbon and shove it. Do better.

[onf-headcanons]

ONF UNIVERSITY AU

A/n : ok this is just the first (?) elaboration of the au. This is also meshed with senpai au. I actually already had a few moodboards (Yuto and Minseok ones) and a senpai AU of Seungjoon that opened up the idea, its just i did not have the time and luxury to expand the au. Another reason was that timing i am still learning about ONF so I don't want to go too OOC on things I am not familiar with.

To keep it short, the boys actually formed a dance club and they named themselves ONF

I do said dance club but if you wanna utilise it like F4 from meteor garden, it totally flexible

Also totally doable if you wanna use the university au as the main worldbuilding for other AU, examples, Sibling AU, or any BF headcanons I have mentioned like the MTL for PDA. MTL to confess and MTL to leave hickies, so do check out masterlist (that is constantly updating )

Also, even though it might retcon some setting I have already done, but it is totally doable for University AU to be the prequel for Office AU.

OH HEADS UP, FOR THIS AU I AM ALTERING THEIR AGE. Their real life age difference are about 4-5 years which is unrealistic to fit for the au, so shrink age difference to 1-2 years. 

One of the project they did as a dance club, which they uploaded

undefined

Let see the members headcanons below

Hyojin : Probably musical student but if we were to jump out from stereotype,I do feel him studying marketing (analysts side)

OK if this boy does not finish his assignments in the cafeteria, then he is not Kim Hyojin lol. Constantly munching something while he trying to finish assignment or solve a problematic question

Even if Seungjoon drags him to library to do assignments . HYOJIN DEFO GONNA MAKE EXCUSE TO BUY BEVERAGE FOR THE 2 OF THEM AND SNEAKS OUT FOR A SHORT WHILE.

The type that try his best on getting good results on every class. But he never brags about it.

Should we give him a senpai au plot, I would write him as the senpai you have a crush on since high school and you did not know he attend the same university as you.

Changyoon : Design student for sure😉 Interior design, graphic design or even fashion design. Oh! Film Director also not bad? (I mean he has loads of ideas and thoughts also let's not forget about Incomplete MV)

Ppl which are not in their circles would be like, "how did you even get along with the others?" Because his majors are very different compared to the other 6

Hmm I do feel it is more like Changyoon did not make the first move to join the group. Probably the Capricorns/ENFPS (Seungjoon or Jaeyoung)

So maybe he kinda drop by to a short marketing class so that he can gain insight on how advertisements film can grasp audience heart. There he either met Hyojin or Seungjoon (maybe both) ,then only the bond gets deeper

After knowing each other he finally comfortable to be himself and does not feel awkward anymore...

Also including this hc here because I only thought of it when writing. HYOJIN,CHANGYOON, SEUNGJOON AND MINKYUN teaming up to sing something? Like them 4 have a YouTube channel that upload their covers, without showing their faces, using illustrations drawn by Changyoon

Seungjoon : Could go for science genre or maybe business administration? Also anything related with mathematics(that need flexible solving) might suit him too

Might occasionally appear in the library. Not really searching for books to read,more on giving himself the environment to complete assignments. But visits bookstore too

Maybe, the most social-able being in the group. Constantly waving or say hi to acquaintance/classmates passing by. Even though that, there are never rumours or scandals of Seungjoon being playboy. (But totally the first one in the group to get a GF, hint established in his senpai au)

Like people only notices the group because of him because of his social skills. Its kind of like the fairy who brings/enlarge the fandom lol

You can read his Senpai au here

Might doing part time job at a cafe nearby university because of distance+ time convenience purposes. The other members of the group might occasionally hang out at the place, waiting for him to finish his shift or Yuto to finish his lessons and then they go eat dinner

Jaeyoung : High chance of choosing communication related genre or/also social science/sociology related genre. I won't be surprised if he will choose psychology or behavioural science

Easily to find him in library searching for books to read/expand his pov. Sitting beside windows

One of the hyungs that will explains Korean to Yuto. Especially idioms.

First impression would be the quiet good looking one that definitely gonna stay back to ask lecturer more questions

The second on in the group to get a GF. But very very low key.

Linking to the tutor AU I posted recently, he might be teaching online to gain extra income because he does not want to do part time job to exhaust himself as he want to reserve energy to dance. Which also the main factor he suggested Yuto to do online teaching later

Minkyun : Musical student but focusing on composing. To jump from stereotypes, he could be going to broadcast communications, to become professional radio DJ

He might also join another club which is established by uni it self to make radio broadcast that plays at the cafeteria.

Cues in other members all recognise his voice immediately. Lol if he qccidentally messed up on some wordings, the next time they meet they are gonna tease him for sure haha

OK this applies to all of them but I only remembered to include this during writing for Minkyun, the boys are totally banned from playing any games at the cafeteria lol (not a strict ban but they are loud lol.) So they changed plans to play game and hangout at home, with Yuto coming over to sleep over.

Yuto : the exchange student / the foreign student who is majoring in Korean language. High chance going for Korean language teaching later.

Once they knew Yuto's Korean Proficiency level are above average, the boys are supportive and proud of him af. Lol also his devilish hyungs teasing him that he should get a girlfriend, it is a way to master language lol

Cues in his hyungs helping him out by giving him small tests of Korean grammar

Could be the only one who lives in university dorms. But he gets to have sleepovers with his hyungs at their house during weekends (rent or family residence,up to you)

Even encourages him to try out online teaching beginners first to gain experiences

Probably feeling sadden the most when found out Minseok had to quit university. Also could not help feeling lonely when his hyungs graduated. (Some did extend studies but some did not. My hunch, Minkyun and Chang Yoon could be the first two to graduated first. Jaeyoung and Yuto being the last two to graduate)

Minseok : a junior who studies history and choosing Japanese + Chinese as sub majors. Who knows, he might choose translating/interpreting as major later (I mean have you seen some interviews where he used Japanese and Chinese, damn his pronunciation is good, trust me cos i speak both language)

Did not get to stay long, maybe just 1 year and a half then he had to quit university because his whole family are moving out from the country (no worries they contact each other online frequently). His hyungs defo doing a farewell party for him.

Even though short time, but he gained the title of university sweetheart by the first day he starts uni. 

Same as Seungjoon and Jaeyoung, the type to find him in library alot.

Of course gonna ask Yuto a lot of Japanese grammar questions

BTW if link to Sibling AU, should we link it to the double Kim household, Minseok did not drop out. He could have participated an exchange program and had to leave for overseas to complete a course at a better institute

A/N : Ok I am gonna stop here before it gets even messier (slaps forehead I changdolled while writing this)

[sadaboutniall]

something about you;

introduction | masterlist | tag | wattpad

Sixteen. January, 2015.

So, Niall tries to move on. 

He does everything you’re supposed to, after a breakup: he gets a haircut, buys some new clothes, writes a bunch of breakup songs, goes on a world tour. He kisses boys and he kisses girls, and when he wants to call Isla, to talk to her about the kissing boys thing, he doesn’t, because they don’t talk anymore, and that’s not what he should do. 

He makes friends in every corner of the globe, finds himself in strange beds with strange people in countries he wasn’t even sure existed when he first met Isla. He learns to like new foods, nearly kills Harry with a rogue golf club by accident on multiple occasions, does rehab on his gammy knee, and doesn’t call Isla. 

It’s early January and he’s in London and he’s not thinking about Isla, not letting his mind wander around the fact that this city is hers now, that she spends more time here than he does, that this is her home—that she’s built a life here without him. He doesn’t know much about it, really, save for the bits and pieces he picks up on Instagram by accident. 

And there are bits and pieces that he has picked up: the fact that she’s still with Jack, who won his most recent rugby match against a rival uni. The fact that her degree seems to be going well, that she’s got an internship with a firm here in the summer, meaning she won’t be home in Mullingar at all. The fact that her sister Erin is pregnant. He tries not to think about it all too much. 

He’s alone, which is fine, except for when he thinks about the fact that no one else he knows is: that Harry just landed in LA to spend time with friends, that Liam and Sophia are cuddled up together in Wolverhampton, that Louis and Eleanor are doing the same on the other side of the city. Zayn is with his family, too, and he seems happier to be home than Niall’s seen him in a long time. He tries not to think about that too much, either. 

So Niall’s alone, and that’s fine. He’s used to it by now. 

He goes to Waitrose to get some groceries for himself. It’s fine, the whole cooking for one thing. It just means he has leftovers to eat over the next couple of days, means he can spend less time cooking and more time doing things single people do, like watching TV, talking to people they’re interested in, and decidedly not thinking about their ex girlfriend from secondary school.

In the baking supplies aisle, Niall sees a ghost. 

He doesn’t know if he should say hello or not. He doesn’t know if they’re still friends—if they’re even talking. For a moment, he doesn’t even know if she’ll remember him. 

Thankfully, Emilia makes the decision for him. 

‘Holy shit,’ she says, eyes wide, familiar smile growing. ‘Hey.’

‘Hi,’ Niall feels awkward, despite the fact that Emilia is one of his oldest friends. He doesn’t like that things can change like this. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m good, really good,’ Emilia takes another step toward Niall, looking genuinely pleased to see him. It relaxes him a little, but, still, his heart is on edge. ‘I didn’t know you were back in London.’

‘Just for a bit,’ Niall says, scratching at the back of his neck. ‘Heading to LA soon for rehearsals and stuff.’

‘Right, well,’ Emilia tilts her head a little to the side, as if she can’t quite believe this is happening either. ‘It’s been ages since anyone’s heard from you, Niall.’

‘It’s been ages since I’ve heard from anyone.’

He regrets it as soon as he says it, but Emilia laughs, shaking her head with a rueful smile. ‘I told Sean as much, yeah. You can both be so fucking stubborn sometimes.’

There’s that familiar tugging sensation in Niall’s belly, anxiety kicking at its confines. ‘I’m, uh. I’m really sorry. I don’t have a good excuse, really, and I don’t want to be that bloke that fucks off and doesn’t talk to his mates anymore. It was just. I mean. I don’t have an excuse.’

‘S’alright,’ Emilia jostles the large carrier bag on her shoulder, filled with groceries. ‘I know it was a lot for you, over the summer.’ 

‘It was,’ Niall says, for the first time. ‘Yeah. Thanks.’

Emilia gives him a knowing smile, then, ‘do you want to have a pint sometime before you leave London? You, me, and Sean?’

‘Fuck, yeah,’ Niall doesn’t even bother to hide his excitement, his relief. He can hardly imagine anything he’d rather be doing than having a pint with two of his best mates, actually. ‘I leave Sunday afternoon but I’m free tomorrow night?’

‘Oh,’ Emilia coughs awkwardly, and Niall feels his high deflating just a little bit. ‘We can’t tomorrow night. We’ve got, erm, a birthday party?’ 

It dawns on Niall unpleasantly, like turning the shower on freezing cold and stepping right under the harsh spray, or like walking into the corner of a counter when you’re not looking where you’re going. His body reacts before his mind does: he heats up, feels itchy and uncomfortable in his own skin, feels the tugging in his stomach intensify. Emilia jostles her bag again, and Niall’s brain catches up. Early January. It’s Isla’s birthday tomorrow. 

‘Fuck, right,’ Niall manages to say around the lump in his throat. It came out of nowhere and makes him feel sick and sad, like he needs to lie down for a long, long time. ‘I can’t believe I forgot. Does Saturday night work?’

‘Yeah,’ Emilia’s smile is softer, patient, and despite all she’s done for him Niall doesn’t like it, doesn’t want to feel pitied by someone who doesn’t know what this kind of heartbreak feels like. He wants to go home. ‘Saturday is perfect. Your number still the same?’

‘It is, yeah.’ He needs to leave. Now. 

Grand. Do you want to pick the place, or should we?’

‘You pick. I, uh. I just realized I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes, actually, and I’ve got to run. But I’ll see you Saturday. Just text me.’ He doesn’t even wait for her to answer before he steps forward for a quick hug, a kiss on the cheek goodbye. She pats his back and he thinks about the fact that she probably saw Isla today, that she’ll probably see her again later, and tries to ignore the way his brain is screaming. There’s nothing he can do. 

‘Niall?’ Emilia says, pulling away from the hug. She stays close, looking up at him seriously, and all Niall can do is nod, mouth dry, cheeks flushing red. ‘If you call her—like, for her birthday, or any other reason—she’ll pick up.’

Niall gapes, opens his mouth, closes it again, like a fucking fish, like a toddler, like an idiot. 

‘I just feel like you need to know,’ Emilia takes a few steps back, giving him his space. Inside her carrier bag he can see a load of baking supplies—all the right stuff for making Devil’s Food cake. Isla’s favorite. ‘She’ll always pick up.’

####

taglist: @stylishmuser @thicksniall @stayclose-holdsteady @niallhoranruinsme @ajayque @flickerswinehouse @1dfangirls35 @crocodileniall @halfpinthoran @awomanindeniall @booksncoffee @edgeofmyniall @kare38 

join the taglist here

[kar3npage]

Next to You

Neil Josten works as a math professor and lives a comfortable life in a neighborhood that happens to house all of his closest friends. He meets Andrew Minyard, the owner of the quaint bookstore down the street, at a barbeque and makes the mistake of agreeing to go to his book club. Lots of Andrew being an obviously lovesick fool, Neil being oblivious, and their friends loving them unconditionally.

Read it on ao3 here

Neil Josten made his way down the quaint street that he somehow managed to get an apartment in. His wheelchair clicked loudly on the pavement, and he got a few sympathetic looks as he rolled past. He does his best to ignore it, though some days that’s easier said than done.

It’s been years since his father died at the hands of Stuart, and a bit more than a year since the rest of his father’s circle was finally caught and imprisoned. No matter how much time passes though, Nathan Wesninski left a lasting impact. The scars on his arms and face make sure that everyone knows that something horrific happened to the young man with red hair, and the wheelchair ensures that he is noticed in every situation.

“Hey buddy!” Matt is easy to find in the cafe they always meet at. To begin with, they always sit at the same table so that Neil can get there comfortably. Also, he is freakishly tall compared to most people, and the spiked hair adds to his height. “Dan sends her apologies. Emergency at work,” Matt says with a grimace and pushes forward the coffee that he ordered for Neil. 

Matt and Neil have been best friends since they met in physical therapy when Matt got an injury while he was playing Exy in university. Neil was the first person Matt introduced Dan to when they started dating, and Neil was the one that Matt ran his business plan through when he first decided that he wanted to start a veterinary clinic. Matt was the one that Neil called when he got lonely in his empty apartment, and Matt was the one who forced Neil to get a cat. Neil couldn’t imagine a life without their weekly coffees or Christmas dinner with the Boyd-Wilds. 

Matt is describing in minute detail the reason why Dan was not able to come to coffee today - something about one of the high school students she taught struggling with something and going to her for help. The pride Matt felt for his wife was undeniable, and Neil nodded along and let him ramble.

“Anyway, I almost forgot! Allison is putting together a party on Sunday and you have to come,” Matt says after a few minutes.

Neil gives Matt an unimpressed look. “First of all, what is the party even for? Second of all, you know I don’t like parties.”

“I know, I know, but Kevin’s back in town! Plus you got your PhD, we need to celebrate that!”

“I got my PhD two years ago, you’ve got to stop using that as an excuse to have a party.”

Matt grins unapologetically and stares at Neil until he finally says “Fine. But I’m leaving early.”

Before he knew it, Sunday evening was there and Neil was reluctantly making his way to the Boyd-Wilds house. On his lap was a loaf of sourdough bread that he stress baked that afternoon, and a list of conversation topics that he printed off the internet. 

While waiting for someone to answer the doorbell, he stuffed the list of questions in his pocket and inspected the cars on the street. There were more people here than normal. Quite a few more. He could recognize Wymacks beat up old truck and Allison's pink convertible, and he was assuming that the rental car across the street was Kevins. There was also a red SUV that he hasn’t seen before, and a very fancy, very shining black car in the driveway. 

Allison opened the door like she owned the place, and threw herself on Neils lap for a hug before he could protest.

“I know you were dawdling, your apartment is, like, a block away.”

“Well I can’t walk very fast,” Neil says to Allison while half-heartedly shoving her away. She flicks his nose.

“You can get everywhere faster than me, stop trying to make me feel bad for you,” she sings, then grabs the loaf of bread out of his hand and walks inside without a backwards glance. “Literally everyone got here before you did. Even the monsters.”

Neil comes in hesitantly. There is a great deal of noise coming out of the kitchen, and Neil can see even more people in the backyard through the hallway. 

“So… who all came?” Neil says as he emerges into the tight kitchen where Allison disappeared to. There are a multitude of new faces in the kitchen who turn to face him, and he immediately regrets not coming up with an excuse to stay home. Not like any of them would have believed him, but an attempt could have been made.

“Allison, you didn’t say he was that attractive!” a tall man says from the corner. His arms are wrapped around an even taller blond man who smiles genially at Neil and coming forward to offer a hand.

“I’m Erik, and this is my husband Nicky,” the blond man says in a thick German accent.

Allison beams at Neil. “I told you he was cute. And he looks even better when he wears the clothes that I choose for him,” she says to Nicky, giving Neil a pointed look.

“Nicky’s the one doing Matt’s marketing for him now.” Renee’s calm voice comes from the corner, somewhere behind Nicky and Erik. “And he helped Allison with her branding when she started designing.”

Neil hums so they know he heard, then backs out of the kitchen to go to the back. He thinks that he should probably say something polite while he leaves, but Allison and Renee know how he is, and he feels like he’s getting in the way of all the people actually cooking in the kitchen.

The backyard has even more people in it, but it has more space so he doesn’t feel as claustrophobic.

“Neil!” Matt says from where he’s standing at the barbeque with Wymack, sounding like he had no idea that he was coming. Dan and Abby wave at him from their lawn chairs. Another woman is chatting with them, her arm around a short blond man. Kevin is standing near Wymack talking at another small blond man. Neil catalogs the two, checking for differences without thinking about it. 

Now he really regrets being here. There isn’t a single group of people that he can talk to that he knows entirely, and everyone else seems to be so comfortable chatting. He briefly considers using Sir as an excuse, but he knows that Matt would insist on going home with him if he thought that there was something wrong with Sir.

“No ones going to bite,” Allison says from behind him, making him jump. He realizes that he is directly in front of the door.

“I should go,” Neil mumbles as Allison walks past him carrying a bowl of salad to the table near the grill. “Nope! You can’t, it's your PhD party!” Allison sings.

Kevin turns around and notices Neil in the doorway. He looks intense, which is just his version of excited. 

Allison's announcement has caught everyone's attention and Neil can feel the weight of their eyes. He accidentally makes eye contact with the man who Kevin was talking with, and he shifts his attention quickly.

“It’s not a PhD party, that happened years ago.”

Dan grins. “You know that we’re going to call everything that so you feel obligated to come, right?”

“We just like having you here, Neil,” Renee says sweetly from beside him. Neil can feel his face heating up. “Have you met everyone yet?”

At the shake of his head, Renee introduces the new ones in the backyard. “Andrew is the one with Kevin, he owns the bookshop down the street from the cafe, and then over there is his twin Aaron, and Aaron's wife Katelyn. They work at the hospital together as surgeons.” 

“The bookstore you go to all the time?” Neil asks. Andrew is wearing all black despite the summer heat, and his gaze is blank as he watches Kevin get worked up over whatever he’s talking about. Most likely Exy, since he’s been making an Exy podcast since he stopped playing in university. 

Renee hums a confirmation. “Andrew and I have tea and cake at the bakery every Saturday. I supply treats to the book club he hosts,” Renee says with a smile. Her bakery is famous around the neighborhood for having the prettiest and most luxurious treats in the city. The woman who helps her run it, Betsy, makes Neil just as uncomfortable as Renee does. That combined with his dislike for sweets means that he very rarely ends up in the shop.

“He hosts a book club?” Neil says, staring hard at Andrew. He doesn’t know why his brain has latched onto the man like this, but he can’t help but be fascinated with how contradictory he seems to be. A man with bigger biceps than Matt who likes Renee's cake (and company) and runs a book club. 

Renee smiles, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Oh yes, you should join us sometime. We’re reading Emma at the moment, in honour of the movie coming out.”

Neil narrows his eyes at Renee, but she doesn’t seem to be joking. He’s saved from the need to answer by Erik and Nicky coming out with more food and Wymack announcing that the burgers are done.

-

Andrews eyes keep sliding over to the redhead with a deer-in-headlights look as he completely blocks the door. Kevin has not shut up about Andrews' missed chance at going pro, and Andrew started blocking him out ages ago. Nearly as soon as Kevin started talking, actually. 

Renee winks at him when she notices where his gaze is fixed and he glares at her. Her smile just grows as she finds a lawn chair near Allison. Wymack interrupts the staring contest by putting out the burgers and Andrew bullies his way into line at the table by the grill to fill his plate. Kevin has moved to the back of the line to talk to the redhead, who takes the attack surprisingly well. He makes eye contact with Andrew and gives him a ‘what can you do’ kind of shrug and smile while he nods along to Kevins rant. Andrew pretends he was never looking at them and loads his plate up with bread and potato salad.

“I invited Neil to book club, I hope you don’t mind,” Renee says to Andrew when he sits down in the empty chair beside her. 

Allison leans forward to point her fork at Andrew. “I hope you know that I saw you ogling him.”

Andrew glares at her and Renee kicks her foot gently. “I think you and Neil would get along well,” Renee says.

“Who said I wanted to get to know him,” Andrew says while staring at a smirking Neil arguing with Kevin. Kevin’s face has gone an alarming shade of red and Wymack is watching them with a faintly fond expression on his face.

Allison snorts and turns to Katelyn to chat. Renee wisely changes the subject to her thoughts so far on Emma.

-

Opening the bookstore first thing in the morning is one of Andrews less hated chores. He likes the way the store smells, and the awed silence that it has before customers come in. Robin, his only employee, always takes the evening shift, so he has the whole morning to himself. He starts by setting up a new display in the front window, losing himself to the satisfying feeling of creating something.

The mornings are usually pretty quiet, since the neighborhood has a habit of waking up late whenever possible. The only other shop open is Renee’s bakery down the street, and Boyd’s vet clinic, which he walked past on his way from his place. 

Bee drops by at lunch like she often does, with a mocha and a croissant. Bee is Renee’s business partner in the bakery, and responsible for the pastries. The two of them adopted Andrew into their social circle as soon as he became a regular at the bakery when he first opened the bookstore.

“Renee mentioned that we might have a new member of book club this month,” Bee says as she admires the new display. Andrew does not miss the sparkle in her eye, or the pleased smile that she tries to hide by taking another sip of her hot chocolate.

Andrew doesn’t answer.

“It will be nice to hear new opinions,” Bee muses. He can tell that she’s fishing for a reaction, so he places all of his attention on stacking the newly arrived copies of The Glass Hotel. When he turns around, Bee is watching his carefully. 

“You know,” she says slowly, “it’s always a good thing to add to your social circle. Neil sounds nice. Matt always has good things to say about him.”

Andrew gives her a dirty look, which she easily ignores. “And he sounds like someone you would get along with. Allison told me that he has his PhD in some sort of math. And he has a cat.”

Andrew snorts. “So having a cat is supposed to make me overlook the fact that he’s interested in math.”

Bee laughs and gives Andrew a knowing look. 

-

A week later, and Neil is starting to get restless at home. He appreciates that the university allows him to teach online classes, but sometimes too much time with only Sir as company makes Neil think weird thoughts. He decides to get a sandwich from the cafe, after dismissing the thought of bothering Matt at work. He knows that he could always call Allison, since she is the boss and can do whatever she wants (or so she says), but he’s in a melancholy mood and he knows that she would force him out of it. For some reason, he wants to just wallow for a minute.

The day is crisper than Neil thought that it would be, but it’s a good kick to his system. He peaks in the window of the clinic when he goes past, and he’s suddenly glad that he didn’t text Matt earlier. It would just make him worry, and it looks like he’ll be busy today.

At times like these, Neil can’t help but feel just a little bit like a chore for his friends. He can always hear the busyness behind Allison when he calls her during the day, and he knows that Matt drops nearly everything to make sure he’s okay. He could always call Wymack, but Wymack is busy trying to save every kid that he comes across at the clubs he runs. Abby is constantly telling him that he’s no bother, but she is also busy at her work as a physical therapist. 

The melancholy back as strong as ever, Neil makes his way listlessly down the street. It’s a quiet day today, and all he has to do when he gets home is mark some tests, so he takes his time eating his sad looking sandwich. 

It seemed like fate that the bookstore was directly across the street from the cafe. How had Neil never payed attention to that before now?

It’s as quaint as the rest of the stores on the street, but with a darker colour palette than the rest. The window boasts various beautiful copies of Jane Austen books with a poster with information about the book club. The clean design of the poster reminds him of Allisons, and he wonders if Nicky does the marketing for Andrew too.

Neil sits in the cafe for 45 minutes before working up with courage to check out the bookstore.

A small bell rings as he struggles over the cracked concrete at the entrance to get into the store. By the time he actually looks around, Andrew’s flat gaze is heavy on him. He can feel a flush rise up the back of his neck.

Neil clears his throat a few times and tries to pretend that he’s not fazed by the staring. “Renee mentioned that you had a book club?” he says, because he can’t think of anything else to say.

Andrew keeps staring at him. “I think she said the book was Emma, but she didn’t say what day it was.”

“Next Tuesday.”

“Oh.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow. “You’ve got something else to do that day?”

“No, I just won’t be able to read the book by then,” Neil says, and to his horror, he feels the flush move onto his cheeks. He looks at a random book in an attempt to hide it.

When he looks back at Andrew, he’s relaxed back into the chair behind the counter. “Most members don’t read the whole thing before the club gets together. Some of them haven’t even started it, they just come for the conversation.”

“Really?” Neil says. The shame at not being a fast reader is starting to fade. He can’t imagine Andrew lying just to make someone feel better, and he has a strange trust for the near stranger.

Andrew tosses a small paperback book to Neil, and Neil fumbles to catch it. It’s the edition of Emma with the movie cover. Andrew waves away Neils offer to pay when he gets to the counter.

“Book club discount,” Andrew says while fidgeting with his sleeves.

“That’s not a great business practice, giving away books for that many people every month.”

Andrew just shrugs.

Neil’s at home and has read the first chapter of the book before he remembers that he was sad.

-

“Was that Neil that I just saw leaving the bookstore?” Nicky asked far too enthusiastically as he came barreling into the store not two minutes after Andrews bizarre interaction with Neil finished. 

“Nope,” Andrew says and puts his book in front of his face to block out Nicky.

“I love Neil! Is he going to hang out with us now?”

“Why would him coming to the store mean that he was going to hang out with us?”

“So it was him! Ha!”

Andrew rolled his eyes and turned the page despite not having read a single word on that page. When Nicky is silent for a few seconds, he puts the book down to look into his thrilled cousins face.

“I think it would be nice if he joined us for family dinner next month,” Nicky says brightly when he notices that he’s caught Andrews attention again.

“Why would he be invited to family dinner,” Andrew says flatly. He spends a moment putting all of his energy into ignoring the daydream of Neil being a part of the family. Andrew feels like a creep, having this weird little fascination with someone who he barely knows.

“Allison said that he doesn’t have any family. Isn’t that sad?” A hint of true sadness pokes through Nicky’s facade and Andrew is abruptly reminded that Nicky’s family is just him, Aaron, and Erik now. “Plus, he’s funny! Did you hear him sass Kevin at the barbeque? Even Aaron laughed!”

“Aaron didn’t laugh, he was coughing. But fine, I’ll invite him,” Andrew says with absolutely no plan to invite Neil.

“No, I don’t trust you to invite him. I will,” Nicky says firmly. 

Andrew doesn’t sleep that night. After knowing that Neil will be at book club, and then at family dinner next month (now that Nicky has taken that into his own hands, Neil won’t have a choice but to come), Andrew is starting to feel the stress that usually only pops up after a particularly bad nightmare.

After much introspection, he realizes that it’s not seeing Neil that's causing the stress, but the way that everyone has been watching their interactions. 

As soon as 4am hits, Andrew gets up and walks to the bakery. Sure enough, the light is on in the back and Bee’s yellow Mini Cooper is parked in the employee lot. Andrew knocks on the back door and tries not to make eye contact with Bee, who is wearing a knowing, empathetic look on her face.

Andrew settles at the table in the back and watches Bee work. The silence is soothing, and his muscles relax for the first time all night. After a while, she brings over some hot chocolate and sits down across from him.

“If you want me to get the others to lay off of you about Neil, Renee and I will tell them to stop,” Bee says gently.

“That’s not the problem,” Andrew says, his voice gravelly from disuse. They look at each other for a long moment, both waiting for Andrew to figure out what he means to say.

“Neil doesn’t know, and I feel dirty,” Andrew finally says dully.

Bee hums and takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “Do you want to tell him?”

Andrew snorts. “I barely know him.”

“Well, I don’t think that you should feel dirty. And I’m sure he’s been teased by Allison by now, so you don’t have to worry about him not knowing what the others are saying.”

Andrew lets her words sink in, then nods. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Bee smiles, and brings over a hot chocolate croissant after taking the batch from the oven.

“I don’t think that’s very good business practice,” Andrew tells her, as he takes a burning bite.

He doesn’t feel so conflicted when he opens the bookstore, and it ends up being a better day than he thought that it would be.

-

Neil is enjoying the book more than he thought he would, but he has had much less time to work on it than he planned. After spending most of his days marking, and helping a student over video conference, he was exhausted. And worried.

He could picture himself making a fool of himself at book club, and all of them realizing that he’s not nearly as smart as they all make him out to be.

“I’m sure it’s going to go great! Renee and Bee both love it, and Abby goes! Erik goes when he can, too,” Matt assures him over the phone while Neil tries to come up with an excuse just in case someone confronts him for not going.

“I’ve only read a few pages,” Neil says slowly.

“That's a few pages more than me! Plus, we both know you have a lot of thoughts about it,” Matt says with a grin in his voice. Neil wishes he hadn’t told Matt about the characters over coffee the other day.

Sir is purring delightedly on Neils chest. “I can’t go, Sir is on my lap,” he tries again.

Matt pauses, but Neil hears Dan in the background. “No! That’s not an excuse! Sir cuddles you all the time.”

Matt sighs into the phone. “She’s right, buddy. I think you’ll have fun. And they have free coffee and stuff. That’s always fun.”

20 minutes later, Neil is miserably locking his apartment door and officially on his way to book club.

The atmosphere is surprisingly warm and cozy in the book shop at 7pm. There’s soft music playing, and people are chatting in little groups. There are only a few people that Neil doesn’t recognize, and the circle of chairs taking up most of the floor looks comfortable. For some reason Neil was expecting this to feel more like a test.

Abby beams when she sees him hovering by the door and waves him over. Neil recognizes the woman she’s talking to as Katelyn. 

“We were wondering if you would come,” Abby says warmly, knowing his history of wiggling his way out of social situations.

Katelyn smiles at him and sits on the closest chair so he doesn’t have to look up at her. Neil feels a bit grateful at that, and even more so when she offers him a cheese scone and a cup of coffee from the center table.

Katelyn launches into a story about a patient, and Erik works his way to their group. 

“Neil,” he says quietly as a greeting, and Neil gives him a shy smile. “Nicky was wondering if you wanted to come to dinner in a few weeks. He’s promising to make enchiladas.”

Neil swears that his brain short circuits for a moment. “You want me over… for dinner?”

“Here, I’ll get your number and Nicky can text you the time and place,” Erik says, ignoring his shock.

Andrew comes out from the backroom with more coffee, and that seems to be a symbol of some kind for everyone to take their places.

“Okay, what did you think?” Andrew says bluntly, and that’s it. Everyone has opinions, some of them silly and some serious. Half of the group hasn’t finished the book, and Katelyn admits to not even starting it. 

Andrew is having a light argument with Bee about whether Emma is a likeable main character with others popping in their two cents when Neil first says something.

“I thought she was kind of fun,” Neil mumbled. When he looks up, Andrew has an unreadable expression on his face.

“See, Bee? She’s fun,” he says in a monotone. Neil has to fight the smile threatening to show. 

The meeting is chaotic and warm, and Neil learns a great deal about the people in the room. He learns that Erik is a huge fan of the worst Austen movies, and that Katelyn barely reads but always shows up to book club. He also learns that Andrew is incredibly passionate about the books, but that doesn’t surprise him as much as it probably should.

The only awkward moment is at the end when everyone starts to help put their chairs back in place. When Neil offers to help, the room goes quiet.

“Take this,” Andrew says gruffly and shoves the tray of mostly finished treats at him. Andrew takes the coffee cups and walks to the back, so Neil follows him.

The back room is nearly as cozy as the front of the shop, and a girl that Neil didn’t even know was there is grabbing her bag to leave. Her name tag says ‘Robin’, and Andrew says bye to her almost fondly.

Neil puts the tray on the table in the middle of the room and watches Andrew move efficiently through the cramped space. He has a million questions to ask Andrew, but he’s not sure how to, so he contents himself with analyzing the room.

“You have a question,” Andrew says without turning around.

“I have lots of questions,” Neil says.

Andrew finally turns around and leans on the counter. “I’ll answer if you let me ask you something.”

Neil winces. “If it’s about the scars, you don’t need to bribe me to answer them.”

“It was something else, actually.”

Neil fidgets with the wheels for a moment. “Fine, I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

Andrew tosses his phone to Neil, and Neil feels a little thrill as he enters his number in. He texts himself so he can program the number into his phone. Matt’s going to be so proud to hear that he got two numbers today.

Andrew doesn’t say anything when he gets his phone back, just puts a tupperware container on the table so that Neil can pack up the leftover treats.

Before Neil leaves, Andrew says “Next months book is Atonement.”

-

Neil wakes up to four text messages. One is from Matt asking how the night went, one is from Erik warning him that he gave Nicky his number, one is emoji filled from Nicky, and the last one is from Andrew. It just says ‘You go first’.

Neil spends his whole morning messing up his marking because he’s thinking too hard about what his first question will be for Andrew. He gives up trying to work when Sir knocks over his coffee and nearly breaks his laptop.

Neil: What made you want to own a bookstore?

Andrews reply comes faster than Neil was expecting. He feels a little thrill when he hears the ping of his phone.

Andrew: Everything you could ask me, and that was your question?

Neil: You never said that there were topics that weren’t allowed.

Andrew: ...exactly

Neil startles when his phone starts ringing on the sofa beside him. Sir gives him a wide eyed look until he picks it up.

“I thought you were at work,” he says to Andrew.

“I would say the same thing about you, but I’m starting to doubt whether you actually have a job.”

“I do have a job,” Neil says smugly. “I’m a university professor. I teach online classes. And you’re avoiding my question.”

“There aren’t any customers in here, smartass,” Andrew says not unkindly. Neil smothers a smile. “So do you still persist in asking me why I wanted to own a bookstore?”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t want to do anything,” Andrew says.

Neil stays quiet and waits for him to give him the rest of the answer. 

“I like reading, and I don’t like libraries.”

“Okay,” Neil says. He feels strangely content on the phone. Normally he sucks on the phone, and forgets to answer. “Your turn.”

Andrew is quiet for a moment. “Why did you come to book club?”

“Matt told me I needed more friends, and he wouldn’t let me use Sir as an excuse not to go,” Neil says honestly. He’s found that ever since he became a real boy all those years ago, he has a hard time lying. It always leaves him feeling gross and wrong.

Andrew huffs on the other end of the phone. “You seem to have lots of friends.”

“That’s what I said. The argument wasn’t accepted.”

Sir meows at Neil until he arranges himself so she can sit on his lap. 

“Is that your cat?” Andrew says, breaking a comfortable silence.

“You already asked your question,” Neil teases, tangling his hand in Sir’s fur. She starts her wheezing, loud purr and he can hear Andrew huff again.

“Tell your broken cat that she won’t make me look over your interest in math,” Andrew says.

“What?” Neil laughs. “Who told you I taught math?”

“You’ve caught everyone's attention. I can’t walk down the street without hearing a new fact about you,” Andrew says dryly. “Anyway, math is awful and a terrible subject to choose to study.”

“Math is interesting! It’s the only universal language!” Neil says, not nearly as upset about Andrews accusation as he normally would be. He’s halfway through a tangent on the wonders of math before he catches himself.

“Sorry,” Neil says sheepishly. “You’re probably not interested.”

“More than you would think,” Andrew says, sounding perturbed. “There’s a customer.”

Neil is surprised by the amount of disappointment he feels when the call stops.  

It becomes a habit during the slow times in the day. Andrew calls Neil when he’s bored and finished putting away any new merchandise, or Neil will call Andrew when he’s tired of trying to understand his students confused writing. So far, Neil has learnt that Andrew was in juvie as a teen, and grew up in the foster care system. He learns that Nicky is their cousin and that he took surprisingly good care of Andrew and Aaron when they were angsty teens, and he learns that Andrew has always struggled with touch. He learns lighter things too, like how Andrews favourite movie is Baby Driver (but he will never admit that to anyone else because he has a reputation to uphold), and his favourite colour is blue.

Neil returns the favour but giving away as much information as he’s getting. During their eighth phone call he has a panic attack when he tells Andrew about his father, and how he came to be in a wheelchair. Andrew talks him through it calmly, and doesn’t give him any weird looks when he visits the bookstore two days later.

The month runs by much faster than Neil is used to, and he hasn’t called Matt in a lonely depression a single time. He feels oddly proud of himself for it.

When Nicky texts to remind him of the dinner that him and Erik are hosting, Neil is almost looking forward to it. He has heard from Nicky almost as much as Matt, and the texts have been just as enthusiastic.

He spends the afternoon before baking bread while he chats with Andrew. Andrew had practically forced him into accepting a ride in his ridiculous, fancy car, and has spent the entire afternoon giving him various warnings about Nicky and Aaron. 

“Nicky will hug you,” Andrew says with a voice that sounds like he’s informing Neil of a death. “More than once. Erik’s not bad, but Nicky’s a hugger.”

Neil laughs while he kneads the bread. “It’s okay, Allison sits on my lap every time she sees me. People keep thinking we’re dating.”

Andrew hums in acknowledgement and continues with his warnings. “Aaron is judgy.”

“And you aren’t?” Neil says, thinking back to all of the customers that Andrew has thoroughly made fun of.

“He’s a different brand of judgy. Katelyn keeps it down for the most part, but he’s very rude,” Andrew says, like he doesn’t have any similar traits. 

“How often do you all have dinner together?”

“A few times a year. Nicky insists on our family dinners.”

Neil pauses. “It’s a family dinner?”

The line goes quiet. 

“Andrew? I can’t crash a family dinner,” Neil is starting to feel the root of panic in his chest.

“You wouldn’t be crashing it. Nicky and Erik invited you.”

“But he didn’t say it was for family,” Neil says nervously. Sir meows at him and jumps in his lap. He attempts to shove her off with his elbows so he doesn’t get flour on her. 

“Neil,” Andrew says calmly. “I’m coming to get you in three hours. Sir is not an excuse to not come.”

“Fine.”

-

As promised, Andrew shows up at Neils door three hours later. His mouth goes dry when Neil opens the door. Neil has never put much effort into his appearance, so Andrew is definitely not ready for the button up shirt and styled hair. Neil's apartment smells like freshly baked bread, and the cat that he hears on the phone all the time is sitting comfortably on Neils lap, unconcerned with the fact that Neil is moving around the apartment and fidgeting while she does so.

The apartment is spare, with lots of space between furniture for Neil to move around. The kitchen counters a lower as well, and Neil navigates the room efficiently and quickly. He pushes off Sir with some reluctance, then grabs a loaf of bread and shoves it into Andrews hands so he can put on his jacket. 

“You look nice,” Neil says nervously.

Andrew can feel his ears heat up. “You do too,” he says, though it comes out flat and uncaring. Neil beams anyway and leads the way out.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Andrew finally says when they are both in the car and on their way. “Nicky would die for you.”

“Nicky barely knows me,” Neil says, looking baffled.

“It only takes him a few minutes to latch on to people. Look at me and Aaron. One glance and now he won’t let go.”

Neil smiles gently at him and goes back to fidgeting with his cuffs. 

Andrew had never payed attention to the accessibility of places until he met Neil. He is extremely aware of how cracked and uneven the pavement is in front of Nicky’s, and all he can think about is how cramped the living room is.

Neil is looking at the pavement with trepidation. “Would you be able to help me, maybe…” Neil says quietly.

“Yes.”

Neil nods and pops open his wheelchair, moving into it with practiced ease. Andrew waits for him to get comfortable before standing behind him give the chair a push.

They make it safely to the front door, and as Nicky welcomes them in, Andrew notices that the furniture in the living room has been moved so there is more space. Erik notices him looking and smiles, offering a hand to Neil as they come inside. 

Aaron and Katelyn are already there, sitting in the dining room. Katelyn greets Neil just like she had a book club and starts a conversation with him about their next book. He can see the relief written all over Neils expression.

When Andrew looks over at Aaron, he’s watching him and Neil with an inscrutable expression. Andrew offers the bread to Nicky, not bothering to say it was from Neil. They all know that Andrew has very little patience in the kitchen.

Dinner goes better than Andrew had hoped. No one questions Neil's place there, and he seems to have a good time talking to Erik in German. Andrew interjects every once in a while, and Nicky looks like he’s going to cry when Erik lights up when he realizes that Neil speaks his language fluently. 

It’s not until dessert that Aaron opens his mouth to Neil.

“So what makes you so special?” Aaron says, fixing Neil a suspicious look.

Neil blinks, and pushes his plate of dessert to Andrew to finish.

“Umm…”

Katelyn elbows Aaron and gives him a significant look, and Nicky just looks tired.

“Normally only family gets invited to family dinner. And Andrew won’t even take the time out of his day to phone his own twin, so it’s kind of funny that you made your way in so easily.”

Neils expression shutters and Andrew pushes away the dessert. 

“I’m sorry,” Neil says in his professional voice. “If I would have known that this was just for family, I would not have intruded.”

“Aaron, Erik and I invited him,” Nicky says with a look that Andrew hasn’t seen since they were teens and Erik was still in Germany.

“Neil, the bread you made was incredible. Do you bake often?” Katelyn says sweetly. Aaron catches her eye and they have a bit of a silent conversation while Neil stares at his plate.

“I just think it’s unusual that everyone loved him so quickly, that’s all,” Aaron says. The room, except Neil,  seems to collectively understand what's happening at the same time. Aaron is upset that they took Neil in so quickly when he had to fight for Katelyn, and when Nicky had to fight for Erik.

“I think we’re done here,” Andrew says when he realizes that Neil isn’t going to say anything else. Neil knows the rocky history between Aaron and Andrew, and he didn’t seem to get in between the two of them.

“Would you like to take home some of the pudding, Andrew?” Erik says sadly. Nicky looks like he’s valiantly fighting off tears, and Katelyn's face is nearly as stoney as Neils.

“No, we’re going to go,” Andrew says, and Neil follows him out of the house. Andrew waits at the door so he can help him over the pavement, and no one says a word until they are both settled in the car.

“I told you I shouldn’t have come to a family dinner,” Neil says quietly. Not in a blaming way, just sadly.

“That’s bullshit,” Andrew says. His hands are gripping the steering wheel with more force than completely necessary. 

“It’s okay Andrew. I didn’t want to cause a fight.”

“You didn’t cause one.” Andrew stops at a stop sign and turns to look at Neil. “You didn’t cause one, it was already there.”

He waits for Neil to nod before he goes again. The rest of the trip is quiet.

The excitement doesn’t catch up with Andrew until a few days later. He thought that he was dealing fine with Aaron until he woke up and couldn’t get the energy to get out of bed. 

It would be easy to be mad at himself. He has a habit of doing that. Bee and Renee always tell him that healing is just like that, two steps forward and one step back, but it’s easy to forget how devastating it is when the step back comes.

He closes his eyes for a few minutes and it’s already 9:30. 

The minutes drag by slowly and too fast all at the same time. He’s too hot but there isn’t any energy to push off the blankets or open a window. He stares blankly at the ceiling and fights desperately for the memories not to overwhelm.

He isn’t sure what time it is when his phone rings. He lets it go, but it starts ringing again after.

He finally reaches over to answer, not saying anything once the call connects.

“Andrew?” Neil’s tentative voice says through the speakers. “I’m at the store and it’s still closed. I was worried.”

Andrew can hear the concern. He sighs and closes his eyes again.

“Do you want me to hang up?”

“No.” Andrews voice is gravelly.

“Okay,” Andrew can hear Neil's wheels against the pavement. “Do you want me to come over? You can say no.”

Andrew barely has to think it over. He doesn’t want Neil to see him like this, but he can’t get out of bed and he needs someone to open the window for him. He gives Neil his address and holds the phone to his ear while he waits. Neil doesn’t hang up.

When Neil gets there, he tells him where the spare key is, and the front door clicks open not long after.

“Andrew?” Neil's voice echoes through the quiet house.

“Hey,” Neil says when he gets to Andrews bedroom door. He doesn’t come inside, just talks from the hallway. “Have you eaten anything yet?”

Andrew turns to look blearily at him, and Neil leaves to look around in the kitchen. He comes back some time later with toast and a glass of water, and waits for permission to come into the room. He sits beside Andrews bed and starts reading Atonement out loud while Andrew eats, stopping every once in a while to make sure he stays hydrated.

Andrew doesn’t know how long they sit like that before his brain stop cycling and he’s able to look at the room clearly.

“You can stop,” Andrew says when he realizes that Neil’s voice is starting to go from talking so much. “Here,” he says, handing Neil a blanket from his bed. The room is getting cold with the window open, but he doesn’t want it closed yet.

Neil leaves much later, once it’s already dark outside, and Andrew manages to get some real sleep that night.

-

“Seriously buddy, I can’t believe you didn’t just chew him out,” Matt is still going on over the phone about the failed dinner party from a week ago. Neil is updating one of his courses while Matt rants. “What a dick move. Although, now that I think about it…”

After the silence goes on for longer than necessary, Neil says “Go on.”

“It’s notoriously difficult to get an invite to a Minyard family dinner.”

“You’re acting like it’s the Met Gala.”

“Hey, you remember what the Met Gala is! And I’m serious. It took Katelyn, like, two years of dating Aaron before she was allowed to go. Andrew refuses to have extra people there.”

“I know, that’s why Aaron was mad. And stop talking about Andrew like he’s not being reasonable.”

Matt is quiet for a bit. “I just think that Andrew should have been more open minded to Katelyn, and I wish that Aaron hadn’t been rude to you.” “You don’t know the whole story.”

“I know,” Matt sighs. “Out of everyone in the whole world, why did you choose Andrew Minyard?” The question doesn’t sound judging, just genuinely curious.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never looked twice at anyone else. What is it about Andrew that caught your attention?”

“Andrew and I aren’t dating,” Neil says for the millionth time. Although, the more he thinks about it, the more Neil decides that maybe he would like that.

The usual suspects are at book club that Tuesday, all clutching their versions of Atonement. Some are filled with post-it notes and written all over, and others are in impeccable condition. Neil’s is somewhere in between. He didn’t manage to finish this one yet either, but he was pretty proud of himself for getting almost three quarters of the way through.

Erik and Katelyn come over to talk to him before anyone else. Neil can tell that it’s an apology of sorts, but he’s just glad that they don’t mention anything outright. He would rather pretend that nothing happened.

He waves at Andrew when he comes in, and Andrew gives him his coffee before putting the rest of the mugs down on the table. Katelyn winks at him for some reason at that.

The conversation is more somber for this book, but Neil enjoys it just as much, and he has much more to say now that he’s more comfortable with everyone. He also notices that there are more savoury options on the sweats tray.

Neil stays back to help clean the dishes in the back, and then stays after they’re all done. Bee smiles at Andrew before she leaves, and Erik promises to organize a movie night or something with them all, and then the shop is empty except for Neil and Andrew.

“I have a question,” Neil says before he can lose his nerve.

Andrew nods once and watches him intensely, like he always does.

“Are you… Would you-,” Neil tries to line up his thoughts into a sentence that doesn’t sound weird or embarrassing. 

Andrew doesn’t say anything, just watches him fluster his way through his words.

“I would like to kiss you,” Neil finally says.

“That’s not a question,” Andrew says, and for the first time in months, Neil can’t quite read his expression.

“The question was implied,” Neil says nervously.

“If this is some sort of sexuality crisis, I don’t want to be your experiment.”

“This isn’t a sexuality crisis. I’ve never been interested in anyone like I am in you.”

Neil’s pretty sure that the shop has never been this silent before. “I’ll leave,” Neil finally says. He can feel a rock in his throat that makes him want to be in bed with Sir’s comforting warmth on his chest. He tries to not think of the fact that Andrew probably won’t call him tomorrow like he usually does.

“Don’t be stupid,” Andrew says before Neil can get to the door. He raises an eyebrow after Neil turns around. “I didn’t say no.”

“You didn’t say yes either.” Andrew's face does something complicated. “Yes.”

Neil goes to Andrew, where he’s still sitting in the one armchair that he always chooses for book club. 

“Yes?” Neil says when he’s right beside Andrew.

Andrew’s eyes are dark when he says, “yes.”

Andrew kisses as passionately as he argues about books, and Neils mind stops for a blissful moment. He can feel every inch of Andrews hand pulling him in by the back of his neck, feel the heat of Andrews body being so close.

He feels dazed when Andrew pulls away, and is pleased to see that Andrew looks nearly as ruffled as Neil feels. 

“Would you like to go on a date?” Neil says.

“I thought you already asked your question,” Andrew says, eyes dancing with mirth.

“Technically the first one wasn’t actually a question.”

Andrew's mouth quirks up on one side.

-

Their date turns out to be a nice dinner at a park that Neil later admits was suggested by Allison. Andrew doesn’t mind, because he’s pretty sure that it would have been at the cafe if it was just up to Neil.

Andrew wishes everything was as easy as it was to start seeing Neil. Neil was practically incapable of keeping his emotions in around Andrew, and his bluntness made sure that miscommunication was avoided.

Aaron was a different story. All that Andrew wanted to do was ignore everyone else and let them figure out that Neil and Andrew were… something. Dating, he supposed. Unfortunately, Bee nearly forced him to talk it out with Aaron.

So here he is, holding his phone on a Saturday morning, waiting for his brother to pick it up. 

He sighs when Aaron picks up, and is briefly tempted to just hang up and continue their relationship as it’s been for the past few years.

“Andrew?” Aaron says groggily. He sounds worried.

“Aaron.”

“Are you… dying or something?”

Andrew sighs again. “No. I wanted to talk.”

There’s a stunned silence, and then the sound of Aaron getting up and moving around.

“Okay,” he says hesitantly. “That’s… nice. Good. How is the store?”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

Andrew resists the urge to sigh again. “How is your job.”

“The hospital has been good. Busy, like always, but it’s been really good. Katelyn is working today, actually, so it’s just me home right now.”

The silence stretches like an elastic. Andrew wishes that he was talking to Neil, then blinks in surprise at his thoughts. He didn’t realize how much he actually enjoyed just talking to Neil.

“Is there something that you wanted to talk about in particular?” Aaron asks.

“I,” Andrew starts. It’s more difficult to get the words out than he thought it would be, but he squares his shoulders. “I am sorry that I didn’t like Katelyn. And Neil and I are together.”

“Oh. I mean, I knew you guys were dating.”

“No, you didn’t,” Andrew says, not bothering to explain that they didn’t start until recently. Aaron just huffs.

“Well, thank you,” Aaron says. “And… I’m sorry. About what I said to Josten.”

Andrew nods once, even though he knows that Aaron can’t see him.

“Erik invited us to that movie night. Are you going to come?”

“Yes,” Andrew says, already exhausted by this conversation.

“Okay. Well, see you then.”

“Yep,” Andrew says, then waits for Aaron to hang up.

-

Neil is stuck in that moment between sleep and waking, the feverish version of everyday life. He can see the soft grey of his bedroom wall, and the brick of the basement in Baltimore at the same time. Hear the whir of the ceiling fan and the giggles of Lola, smell the citrusy scent of his cleaning supplies and the metallic tang of blood.His legs ache in both realities.

As his mind clears, he realizes that the pain in his legs is likely what brought the past back so clearly. He stares hard at the white ceiling in an attempt to stop the thoughts spinning around his mind.

Tonight is movie night, he remembers.

It’s raining outside, the first rain for most of the summer and probably the reason for the constant discomfort in his tendons. He was hoping that he was past this, even though Abby was always warning him that there would always be times that this would happen. Long term pain couldn’t be avoided with that much damage, he would just have to have plans in place for when it hit.

Neil spends most of the morning trying very hard not to move, and not to think about his legs. It’s harder to distract himself when he doesn’t have anything to entertain himself. Sir seems thrilled with their extended lie-in, and he contents himself with watching her little belly move while she breathes.

The abrupt ringing of his phone startles him, sending sharp pains down to his feet. It takes eons for Neil to move enough that he can reach the phone. It’s already gone to voicemail by the time he’s caught his breath enough to look at who called. He calls Andrew back immediately.

“Nicky wants us to come by at 4 so we can have dinner and talk first,” Andrew says with vague disgust in his voice. It’s almost enough to make Neil smile. Unfortunately, he feels to guilty about the fact that he isn’t sure whether he’ll even make it to Nicky’s tonight.

“Hi,” he says to Andrew. “That’s usually how people start their conversations. With a greeting.”

Andrew snorts quietly. “Because you always follow societal conventions.”

Neils stifles a groan as he tries to sit up. He gives up in an awkward, half slumped position.

“Neil?” Andrew’s tone has changed and Neil realizes that Andrew had said something.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” he says, strain evident in his voice.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Neil can hear how pathetic it sounds, and desperately hopes that Andrew doesn’t. He doesn’t want Andrew to see how high maintenance he is when they’ve only been dating for a little bit.

“Where are you?” Andrew sounds concerned, and Neils gut clenches a bit.

“I’m at home, I’m fine.” “I’m coming over.”

“No, you don’t need to. You’ll see me tonight, anyway.”

Neil can hear a murmured conversation, muffled by a hand. “Robins taking the desk, and I’m coming over.”

“Wait, Robin is there? What time is it?” Neil can feel the first sparks of anxiety.

“It’s almost 2,” Andrew says, panting slightly as he walks.

Neil thinks of all the things he was supposed to do today. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to come to movie night,” Neil says, trying to quash the panicked note in his voice. “I have a lot to do today, I was supposed to have an online meeting at 10 and I totally forgot. And I need to record a few audio recordings to go with the notes for the last unit. And-”

“Neil,” Andrew waits until Neil stops rambling. “I’m at your door and I’m coming in, okay?”

Neil makes a noise of assent and clutches the phone to his ear until he hears Andrew walk in. 

Andrews silhouette fills the doorway to Neils bedroom seconds later, and he becomes overly aware of how he looks, sagging on the bed with blankets strewn around him. Sir sits up sleepily and blinks at the intruder, then starts to have a very noisy bath. Neil gives Andrew a guilty look.

“What's wrong?” Andrew says, and his voice is so gentle that Neil has to blink away tears.

“I just slept in, thats all,” Neil says, like his bedroom doesn’t look like a murder scene. He thinks of the wheelchair, walker and other equipment sitting around his room. He’s trying to remember whether he put away all of the physical therapy equipment when Andrew sits down slowly on the edge of his bed. 

“Are you sick?”

Neil sighs. “No, it’s the rain.”

A small wrinkle forms in between Andrews brows.

“My legs. The change in weather makes them hurt sometimes. Which is stupid, because the weather is always changing around here.” Neil tries to smile and fails miserably. 

“What can I do?”

Neil blinks rapidly at the ceiling. He can hear Sir leave the room and feels irrationally abandoned by her.

“Have you eaten yet?” Andrew says, changing tactics. He leaves too when Neil shakes his head, and the lonely feeling reappears.

Both the cat and his boyfriend come back minutes later, the latter carrying a plate of food and a mug of tea with him. He also has pain pills in his hand. 

“I was assuming that these would help, though I’m not sure how they were going to do that from the kitchen,” Andrew says.

“I have to have them with food.”

Andrew has managed to find one of the fancy trays that Allison bought him years ago and helps him prop himself up against the pillows before placing it down on his lap. There are fresh cut strawberries and bread with honey on his plate, and Neil stares at Andrew while he bustles around the room. He’s so focused on how his hair shines in the sunlight now streaming from his window that he almost doesn’t notice that Andrew’s cleaning the floor so that his wheelchair can move around easier.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Andrew says, but the blush rising in his ears betrays his feelings.

“You didn’t have to come here,” Neil says. 

“What do you do when you’re by yourself and this happens?”

Neil shrugs. “I lie in bed until I think that I can manage moving, and then I take the pills with crackers or something. And then I end up sleeping on the couch most of the day because the pills make me feel weird.”

Andrew thinks for a moment. “Do you need ice? Or a heating pad?”

“Ice would be nice,” Neil mumbles into his tea.

Andrew pauses in the doorway, looking oddly hesitant. He nods to himself before opening his mouth. “Do you ever resent being in the wheelchair?”

Neil considers the question for long enough that Andrew almost leaves without an answer. “I used to. I was really angry after it all, and it felt like I couldn’t do anything by myself. But once all of the bandages were off and Abby had taught me how to do everything, I was really glad for the wheelchair. It means that I can be independent and move around without as much pain as the walker. And there are some benefits,” Neil grins. “I can move around the apartment and still let Sir sit on my lap.”

Andrew turns around, but Neil catches the small smile on his face before he goes.

Half an hour later and Neil is swaddled in blankets, comfortably full, and sandwiched between Andrew and Sir while they watch a baking show that Andrew made him swear that he would never tell Nicky that he liked.

Matt and Dan have always tried to get Neil to call them over when this happened, and now he is starting to see why. He feels safe and almost comfortable, the pain down to a manageable level with the care that he has been given. He wonders what it would have been like if he had admitted to needing help years ago. 

“How would you feel about inviting everyone here instead,” Andrew says suddenly, pushing Neil out of his head. “You don’t have to. We could reschedule movie night, Nicky would understand.”

“Aaron wouldn’t,” Neil says with something close to a pout.

Andrew’s lips twitch upward before he gets control of his expression. “Aaron would understand too.”

“I couldn’t feed them, though,” Neil says morosely. He had been looking forward to this, strangely. Maybe because this time his friends were invited too. It was sure to be loud and chaotic, but Neil thought that it would be nice for all of his favourite people to be in one room.

“Idiot,” Andrew says with too much fondness for it to be insulting. “Nicky and Matt will bring food. And Renee’s doing dessert.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

-

Andrew watches their friends and family get comfortable in Neil’s tiny living room. All of them are holding mismatched plates filled with food and have managed to move enough things around that they could all fit in front of the TV. 

Neil is sitting beside him in the corner of the sectional, legs stretched out in front of him and a plate of fruit in his hands. He still looks pale and tired, but he keeps giving Andrew a brilliant smile and he belly laughed at a joke that Matt made, so Andrew has decided that offering to bring everyone to him was a good idea after all.

Matt and Dan have somehow contorted themselves so that they can fit on the armchair beside the couch, and Aaron and Katelyn are snuggled up on the other side of the couch. Aaron had even given Neil a respectful nod and a booklet of well-meaning advice on how to care for his legs when they arrived. 

(Andrew had seen the way Neil tried not to laugh when he looked through the booklet, and how his muscles seemed to relax at the lack of a rude greeting from his brother)

Erik and Nicky were cuddled on Neil’s comforter on the floor, with Renee and Allison beside them. Kevin was leaned up against the armchair and cheerfully arguing with Aaron about what a proper diet looks like. 

The movie had started half an hour ago, but most of them were talking over it while Nicky shushed everyone.

Andrew’s chest is holding an expanding warm feeling while he watches the mayhem, and when he turns to look at Neil, Neil’s expression mirrors the warmth. 

When Neil falls asleep on his shoulder later while Sir kneads his lap, and his brother nods acceptance at him, he knows that this will be his future.

[losingmymindtonight]

Whump: Hostage

AN: Y’all I mean it when I say that this one is long. It’s over 11k. So, if you’d rather read it on the AO3, I’m linking it right here.

Just a little housekeeping before we proceed! This is set post-Endgame, but with a few tweaks to pieces that I didn’t like, because this is fanfiction and I can do that. For one, Tony’s alive. Steve did not go back to Peggy. Bruce is not... that weird Hulk/Bruce thing.

This is technically a continuation of my last bingo square, which was AU: TV/Movie! You don’t need to have read that for this to make sense, but it would definitely help! If you haven’t read that other fic, just know that May died sometime after Endgame and Tony adopted Peter.

There’s a little ‘bonus scene’ at the end of this, from Natasha’s POV. It’s my version of an end credit scene, I guess. If I’m being honest, I don’t even know why it’s there, but it is.

This boy is long, and some parts are edited a lot better than others. Did I mention that this thing is 11k yet? Because it is, and I think I’ve gone insane.

EDIT: I’m a dumbass and I forgot to mention that this one is based off of a West Wing episode, just like the last square. If you’re a West Wing fan and it feels familiar, that’s why!

WARNINGS: kidnapping, mentions of date-rape drugs (but no sexual assault, just a brief mention near the end, and not in reference to something that actually occurred), non-consensual drug use, a couple mentions of alcohol, lots and lots of ruminations on a missing persons case, discussions of death (I don’t think there’s anything too graphic, but it’s there).

--

“Suma cum laude from Columbia. Columbia, Rhodey. Did you know that their acceptance rate is 5.1%? That’s the second most selective college in the Ivy League.”

Rhodey didn’t look nearly as impressed as Tony thought was appropriate. He just took a sip from his whiskey, tone dripping with sarcasm. “So you’ve told me.”

“That’s more selective than MIT.” He gestured with his own glass, although his was filled with some of Morgan’s apple juice. “Their acceptance rate is 7.9%. That’s a 2.8% difference.”

“Yes, Tones. I, too, am capable of basic math. Even though I did graduate from MIT, which is obviously the inferior institution here.”

He glared. “Yeah, well, did you know that Peter graduated on a 4.0 GPA? You know how hard it is to graduate on a 4.0 GPA at an Ivy League school?”

“I don’t know. Probably about as hard as graduating on a 4.0 GPA at MIT. Which I did, by the way.”

“Are you ever gonna let that one go? I’m the visionary of a generation, but I got one B in an English class and my best friend does a mutiny.”

“Yeah, well, your son managed to make an A in English.”

“He did, didn’t he?” He grinned, still drunk on the memory of Peter in his cap and gown, leaning down so that Morgan could adjust the tassel. “I think he made a 99 in that course, too. He’s smarter than you and me, Rhodey. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Rhodey held up a hand, stalling him. “I’m sorry, you remember the exact number?”

“Of course he remembers the number, Rhodey,” Pepper sighed, slumping down at Tony’s side with a glass of wine in her hand. “He used to pin the screenshots from Canvas up in his office.”

Used to? He thought, a little incredulous. He still had them there.

“Listen,” he griped, “there are worse crimes than a father being proud of his child. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Sure,” Rhodey said, not even trying to conceal his amusement. “By the way, I thought that his security detail did a good job of blending in today. If I didn’t personally know all of them, I wouldn’t’ve suspected a thing.”

Tony snorted. “Let me tell you something: when it’s your kid, you don’t want them to blend in. You want them carrying a sign that says, I’m carrying a loaded gun and the safety’s off.” He swirled a finger around the rim of his glass. “But, yeah. I think Peter even managed to forget about them for most of it, which was the goal.”

“His speech was lovely as well,” Pepper interjected. “Very polished. He’s grown up a lot.”

A dagger of nostalgia pierced through him. “Oh, don’t remind me. I swear that I was coaching him through his first awkward date just a couple of days ago. What the hell is he doing going off to California all alone? It’s ridiculous.”

Rhodey snorted. “Sorry, I don’t get it. Are you proud of him or are you trying to lock him in the house and never let him out? I’m just trying to make sure that we’re all on the same page here.”

A chime from Rhodey’s phone interrupted the conversation. The man glanced down at the screen, expression darkening at whatever it was that he found there, and then quickly excused himself.

Tony didn’t really think anything of it. Rhodey got a lot of calls and texts that weren’t pleasant. It came with the territory of being such a high-ranking Colonel in the military. Nobody on Earth would call that a relaxing job. Plus, he still flew the occasional mission as War Machine. Not every superhero was quite as ready to leap into retirement as Tony had been.

Minutes trickled past with Rhodey out of the room, and Tony and Pepper found themselves constantly circling back to their favorite topic: their kids. They (well, it was mostly him, but Pep joined in occasionally) reminisced and complained, in the pride-struck kind of way, about the bittersweet upheaval that the upcoming months would bring to their lives. It was nice. It was quiet. It was a taste of the peace that he’d fought for through all those years as Iron Man.

Isn't that the mission? Isn't that why we fight? So we can end the fight? So we get to go home?

He’d ended the fight, and the endgame had been so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. When he’d said that to Steve, he hadn’t even had a home. His home had been the Avengers, even if he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself. But after Thanos, after hanging up the armor and looking into a future, a real future, he’d built a home. He’d built a home out of a dozen scattered bricks: the scarred shambles of his and Pepper’s baggage-laden love affair, a pregnancy test that was never meant to be positive, and a frightened, orphaned teenager with nowhere left to go. He’d taken those foundations, and he’d built and built and built until they were sheltered. Until they were home.

The pain of letting Peter leave, of releasing his grip and watching him run off to California to be his own person, to build his own home, his own life, was such a new, privileged kind of pain. It hurt, but in a gentle way. In the way that good things sometimes ached in the beginning, before they settled into a normalcy.

Tony had just decided that he’d be happy to live through a hundred moments of Peter graduating college (just so long as he could feel this proud with each repetition) when Rhodey surged back into the room, chest heaving.

He knew, somehow. He knew from the moment he saw the look on his best friend’s face. He knew even before Happy, who was not supposed to be here, who was supposed to be with Peter at some graduation party in the city, came barreling in at his heels. He knew.

Maybe it was a father’s intuition, maybe it was just paranoia, but he knew, and that knowing was the absolute worst thing in the world.

Everything froze.

“Rhodey?” He set his glass down on the coffee table, half-rose from the couch, wanting to ask but desperately not wanting to hear the answer that came after the asking. “What’s-”

“Tony, it’s Peter.”

--

The world had broken into color and chaos. The drinks had been cleared away, the coffee table in the living room swiped clean. Pepper was in the kitchen, babbling on the phone to about a dozen different people at SI, trying to organize whatever and whoever she could. The team was on their way: the new and the old. He’d spoken to Steve for a stunted 30 seconds, had pulled himself out of his adrenaline just long enough to process his promise of I’ll be there in an hour before hitting End Call.

He was sitting on the floor, now, back pressed against the couch, clutching the TV remote in his left hand for no reason other than to be holding something.

“Is Morgan still in her room?” He whispered, because that was… that was all he had left. God, he couldn’t live without one of them, how would he possibly survive losing them both?

“Yeah, Tony.” Happy seemed hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how much information he was meant to be revealing. “Pepper checked on her. We’re letting her sleep.”

“Okay. Okay.” He closed his eyes. Tried to steady himself on a home-grown foundation that had just lost one of its most vital supports. “Okay. Tell me everything.”

Rhodey knelt beside him, hand heavy on his shoulder. “Tony, are you sure that you shouldn’t-

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snarled, although he wasn’t really sure what he was sure about. He wanted his child back? Yeah… Yeah. He was sure about that. He was sure about regretting the fact that he’d ever let Peter leave his sight. “Now, will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Happy sighed, pushing the coffee table out of the way and joining Rhodey on his knees in front of him. It was funny, in a horrible, morbid, stomach-twisting sort of way. Three of the most high-powered men in the country were kneeling on the floor, falling to pieces because a single kid was missing.

“He was with his friends, at a club,” Happy started slowly. “We had two of his guards in there with him, blending in and keeping their distance, and a group of six more stationed on the outside. He got up to go to the bathroom. One of the guards followed, the other stuck by his friends so they could have eyes on him when he came back. We don’t really know what the hell happened after that. As far as the guards saw, he never came out of the bathroom. One of them went in after about ten minutes, checked all the stalls. His phone was on the floor, but he wasn’t there, so they raised the alarm. We scanned the perimeter, and found skid marks and one of the external guards down by the kitchen’s loading area-”

Tony hated panic, hated situations that threw him in the deep end like this. He wasn’t used to being slow, to being one step behind everyone else, but that’s exactly what this was. He was handicapped, stuck in molasses because this was his child. There was nothing… There was no way that the word efficiency could slot into the haze settling over him.

“What, uh,” he shook his head, trying to clear it, to knock his thoughts into something orderly and complete, “what do you mean, one of the guards was down?”

“They’re dead, Tony,” Happy breathed, and even though his own turmoil, Tony could see the pain on the man’s face. “Whoever took Peter shot them in the head. By the time we got to the scene, there was nothing we could do.”

Peter’s never going to forgive himself for that.

He didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel guilt over the fact that his only concern was for Peter. The guard… he’d feel bad about that later. He’d compartmentalize it, because it was selfish and horrible and very unheroic, but nobody mattered more than Peter. Nobody mattered more than his kid.

“Why… Why didn’t he hit his panic button?”

“That’s the question.” Happy scrubbed a hand down the front of his face. Every inch of him looked tired, like he’d been running on empty for weeks and weeks and weeks, except it hadn’t been weeks. It had only been a few hours since Peter had been taken, only a few minutes since Tony had been told, but it felt like… it felt like decades. “We found it out in the alley, a few feet away from where we think the getaway car must’ve been parked. He never pushed it.”

“He didn’t push it?”

“No.”

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Sure, Peter could be a brat about security sometimes, but he did use the resources he was given. He’d hit the panic button multiple times before. Why didn’t he do it now? Why?

He shook his head again, swallowed hard past the lump growing in his throat. “So… So he knew them. He must’ve.”

“Or… Tony, you know I don’t wanna be the person to break this to you, but he was drunk. He’d already had about half a bottle of champagne and a few shots by the time he was taken. One of the guards said he was stumbling when he got up to go to the bathroom, and his friends told us that he seemed pretty wasted.”

That shouldn’t have mattered. Peter was… he was 22, for god’s sake. He’d just graduated valedictorian from Columbia. The kid was allowed to drink some champagne, to get a little-

“Wait, no.” He ran a few numbers through his head, cold and ice and dread sprouting up in his lungs as they refused to compute. “That… he was stumbling?”

“Yeah. That’s what one of his detail said, at least.”

“No, that… that doesn’t make sense, Hap. He… He shouldn’t’ve been that out of it already. His… His metabolism. It’d take more than some champagne and a few shots to get him that drunk. He’d need… He’d need something else.”

Realization snapped over Happy’s face, and he lunged to his feet, kicked the leg of the coffee table irritably when it got in his way. “Fuck. Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? They drugged him. They must’ve.”

Rhodey rubbed Tony’s shoulder, his calm presence the only anchor in wave after wave of helplessness, failure, fear. “Then they were inside the club. Or they had someone helping them.”

Happy was nodding restlessly, already working furiously on his phone. “I’m gonna call the guys on the scene, tell them to detain the bartender and anybody else who might’ve had access to the kid’s drink. And I’ll have someone get his glass and that bottle of champagne for testing.”

“You go,” Rhodey said, slipping forward to settle down at Tony’s side. “I’ll stay here. Hold down the fort.”

“Got it.”

Happy was rushing for the door. Tony could still hear Pepper talking in the kitchen. The team must’ve been most of the way to the cabin by now, scrambling over themselves because this was… it was all too much. Too awful to comprehend. Tony’s brain couldn’t process it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Peter just… wasn’t going to come home. Wasn’t going to walk through the front door, a little tipsy and a little unbalanced but fine. Safe and loved and present. Ready to fly off to California at the end of the summer and leave a very, very proud Tony behind.

“Happy?” He called out, voice rough. The man went stock-still in the doorway, just barely turning to let him know that he had his attention. “Call me as soon as you know anything? Even if… Even if it’s bad. Just… please. Call me.”

That’s my baby, he thought, chest constricting at the bone-crushing loss of it all, if he’s dead… if he’s… if he’s never coming home, then I need to know. I need to know.

“I will, Tony. I promise.”

--

The Avengers blew into the cabin like a choreographed hurricane.

Tony had rarely had a chance to admire their efficiency from afar. He was usually on the outskirts of the disasters, working alongside them. But now he was the disaster. He was ground zero.

Rhodey brief them on what they knew so far, and the living room was quickly transformed from a haven of fireplace and colorful throws and family movie nights into a control room. The only thing that wasn’t touched was the couch Tony was leaning against. He didn’t even realize that it was because of him until Steve sat down on the carpet, brow furrowed in concern as he set a cautious hand on his knee.

“Tony, I want you to let Bruce examine you.”

He scoffed at the suggestion, bitterness rolling over him so suddenly that he felt swamped by it.

“And I want my child back,” he snarled. “Guess tonight’s just gonna be full of disappointments for all of us, huh?”

“Tony.”

“Don’t even start with me, Rogers.” He didn’t know why he was being so cruel to Steve. The man didn’t deserve it. He was just… the closest target. The easiest thing to despise. “I’m just not in the mood.”

“Tones,” Rhodey whispered, dropping down pacifyingly between him and Steve, “listen to me. You know that your heart’s weaker after the Snap. If I’m hauling your ass to a hospital, I’m not looking for your kid. We’ve gotta prioritize, here.”

Even in this state, Tony was clever enough to know when he was being manipulated.

Luckily for Rhodey, he was just too goddamn tired to care.

“Fine,” he growled. “What the fuck ever. Just do it.”

Rhodey was right, unfortunately. He didn’t have time for a heart attack right now, didn’t have time for his body to be anything but functional. After they brought Peter home, well… then it didn’t really matter anymore.

He blinked up at the ceiling, ignoring Bruce as he tugged out his arm, clipped something onto his finger.

Bring him home, he prayed, although to who, he didn’t really know, please, just bring him home to me.

--

Apparently, his blood pressure was high.

Everyone seemed pretty damn concerned about it, which was just… honestly, it was hilarious.

Did they think it wouldn’t be high? His child was off god-knows-where with god-knows-who, probably drugged and confused and afraid and desperately in need of his father, and Tony was supposed to be calming down for the sake of his blood pressure?

His blood pressure could go screw itself, for all he cared.

Of course, nobody else seemed to share his viewpoint. They all fussed over him. Pepper tried to get him to do some bullshit breathing exercises, while Bruce called Cho and bickered with her about medication and preventative measures.

He really didn’t know how to explain to everyone that there was only one cure, and it was his child, safe in his arms.

Until that happened, there wasn’t a drug or a pill or a yoga technique in the world that could save him.

--

Happy burst into the room without any ceremony.

“I’ve got the results from Peter’s drinks.”

Tony staggered upright, shoving Clint’s hands away as the man tried to steady him. He felt breakable, like a single touch might send cracks down his spine, into his bones and down through the ground. Like one wrong move might split him apart.

“And?”

Happy winced. Physically winced, like the words he was about to say weighed a thousand tons. “They found gamma hydroxy butyrate, more commonly known as-”

“GHB,” Tony finished, and he was surprised by how numb he felt at the news. It should’ve terrified him. At the very least, he should’ve felt something. Instead, he just stared at it clinically, chemical formulas and sterile facts filling his head in place of the things he just couldn’t think about. The things he didn’t want to face. “It’s degreasing solvent mixed with drain cleaner.”

God. Drain cleaner. Someone… Someone had given his kid drain cleaner.

“Exactly,” Happy said, voice small and unsure. “And in low doses-”

“In low doses,” he breathed, “it’s a date-rape drug.”

Pain streaked across his old bodyguard’s face: a cocktail of guilt and terror and shame. “Yeah, Tony. It’s… It’s a date-rape drug.”

He swallowed. “That’s, uh, that’s why he was stumbling. Why he didn’t hit the panic button.”

Happy nodded. “Yeah. From the looks of the doses, it was probably meant to knock him out, but with his metabolism…”

Tony finished the sentence in his head. With his metabolism, it probably just made him feel awful, sick, confused. He probably wondered what the hell was happening to him. He probably wanted me.

“He was awake when they took him,” Tony whispered, nauseous. God, he was awake when they took him.

“That’s our best guess. And, uh, Tony…. Listen, I don’t really know if I should be telling you this, but-”

“Tell me,” he ordered, voice somehow sharp and resigned all at once. He… He had to hear it. He had to hear everything. It didn’t matter if it gave him nightmares for the rest of his life, didn’t matter if it was the worst thing he’d ever heard.

It was the only link to Peter that he had.

Happy was silent for a few seconds, then let out a defeated breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Peter’s phone. Tony knew it was his because of the case: pink and green and godawful to look at. The kid had only bought it because Morgan had liked it so much.

“We’ve gotten all we can from this, so I thought I’d give it back.” He handed it over, and Tony slid his fingers over the case, borderline reverent. He could still imagine it in Peter’s hands, or charging on his bedside table, or getting tossed onto the couch in favor of playing a boardgame with Morgan. Tiny, insignificant snippets of life, and yet they mattered so much. They’d mattered so much. “We think he was using it when they grabbed him.”

He tilted the phone to the light, watched his reflection warp in the glass screen. “What was he doing?”

“He was texting you.”

Something icy gripped his chest. When he finally managed to force words up his throat, his voice came out hoarse.

“What’d he say?”

Happy just gestured at the phone, expression pinched. “Bathroom didn’t have any service, so none of them sent, but it’s all still there. We didn’t delete anything. D’you know his passcode?”

“Yeah,” he said. Peter just doesn’t think that I do.

“Okay. Well, I’m… I’m gonna get back to work. I’ll come back if we find anything.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to read it, Tony.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Alright.”

He heard rather than saw Happy move away, just barely caught him murmuring, “don’t let him spiral,” to Rhodey before he left.

Sure enough, Rhodey was right beside him within a few seconds, voice lowered in a guise of privacy, despite the fact that the room was still packed with Avengers, all pretending not to watch but definitely watching.

“Tony, it’s late,” he whispered. “Don’t do this now. Get some rest, and you can face it in the morning, if you really have to.”

“No,” he said, more forceful than he’d intended, but then again, Rhodey just didn’t understand. He was holding his child’s last words in his hands. How could he not read them? What kind of father would he be if he didn’t? “No. I need to do this now.”

He left the living room before anyone could stop him.

Happy’s car was already gone by the time he got to the front porch. He briefly considered settling down in one of the rocking chairs, or the porch swing, but every one of them carried a dozen memories of Peter, of summer days and fall nights and laughter and warmth and the kid’s head pressing heavy on his shoulder and he just couldn’t. He couldn’t face them.

He sat on the floor, back pressed up against the cabin, knees drawn to his chest.

He unlocked Peter’s phone. The brightness was up, but it automatically adjusted after a second or two. He opened the messages app, clicked his contact icon, and read.

hey tony? i thimk i fucked up (ERROR: not delivered)

i feel super super gross (ERROR: not delivered)

:( (ERROR: not delivered)

plz dont be mad i didnt mean to grt thsi drunk (ERROR: not delivered)

ugh fuck batgroom service (ERROR: not delivered)

i just kinda wish u were here to yell at me rn (ERROR: not delivered)

--

The front porch was nice at sunrise.

He’d spent so many hours out here, with Morgan and Peter. Both of them tended to be up early: Morgan because she was a child, Peter because he carried things that no child ever should. He’d sit with them, curled up under one of the afghans Pepper liked to buy from pop-up markets, and watch the sky become an oil painting.

That’d be a pretty smoothie, Morgan would say, pointing at the horizon, and Peter would laugh like she was the funniest thing in the world.

And what would it taste like, Mo?

Like a smoothie!

He heard the door swing open to his left, and while he knew it wasn’t Peter, a tiny part of him wanted to keeping pretending.

“Tones?”

Rhodey. Right. Of course it was Rhodey. Who else would come out here this early, ready to pick his ass up off the floor?

“Did you find anything?” He rasped, still staring out at the lake, watching the daylight step into the clouds, wishing he was watching Peter instead.

“Not yet.”

He just barely inclined his head in response. The answer should’ve hurt him, should’ve stung or panged or something, but it didn’t. After a while, pain just become pain. There wasn’t a scale anymore, wasn’t any room for additions or levels. There was just pain. Pain, and a family missing child. That’s all Tony had.

“I need you to tell me something,” he whispered, then swallowed. His throat scratched, dry and hot, “and I need you to be honest with me when you answer.”

Rhodey sat down beside him, leg braces glowing gently in the yellow-red dawn. “I can do that,” he responded, solemn.

“Do you… Do you think he’s already dead?”

Rhodey’s answer came immediately. “No.”

“Are you lying?”

“If I thought he was dead, I’d tell you.”

“Do you promise?” He balled up a fist, resisted to urge to slam it through the nearest object. “If you… If we reach a point where you think he’s dead, do you promise to tell me?”

He knew he was asking a lot. He could tell, because Rhodey’s breath caught, and he paused. Considered.

“Yeah, Tony,” Rhodey murmured, with all the enthusiasm of someone bartering away their soul. “I promise.”

“Good.” It wasn’t, but it felt like the right thing to say. “This is… This is bad, Rhodey.”

“Yeah, Tony, I know.”

He dropped his head into his hands, strained and exhausting and defeated. Peter was all it took, and Iron Man was down, decimated, conquered.

“If… If they show me a picture of him alive,” he whispered, and he knew he was saying something awful, admitting something dark and frightening, “and then they tell me to aim missiles at… at some hospital full of refugees on the Syrian border, they’re counting on the fact that a father would-”

“But you wouldn’t.”

His head snapped back up, and he nearly laughed at the conviction in Rhodey’s voice. God, had everyone really forgotten who he truly was? The heroism of Iron Man was an act. It was a stage curtain, drawn down to hide the monster underneath. Tony Stark was not a good man. He was certainly not a selfless one.

Yet he was so good at pretending that even his best friend believed the ruse.

He turned to stare at Rhodey, voice low. “I might.”

And that might be the most important thing I’ve ever said to you.

The corner of Rhodey’s mouth quirked up, like some part of this was actually amusing to him. “There are people around you who won’t let you.”

He couldn’t possibly be this good at deception. Had Rhodey actually forgotten? Had he forgotten that Tony hadn’t always been an Avenger, that the Merchant of Death was still a title that haunted him? Somedays, he was almost certain that he was more Merchant of Death than he was Iron Man. More a war-profiteer than he was an idol.

“What about a picture?” He said, because he didn’t know how to stop. He’d never known how to stop. “They’ve got a knife to his throat, and they tell me to send a Jericho missile to a bunker in Afghanistan?”

Rhodey shook his head. “You shouldn’t think of images like that.”

This time, he did laugh. Rhodey flinched, concern etched in every inch of his face, because yeah, Tony probably looked like he was losing his mind. And wasn’t he? His child was missing. There was no sanity to this.

“All I can think of are images like that.”

“Tony…”

“I know it's a strange time to bring this up,” he said, and he knew it was abrupt, but nothing seemed quite so linear anymore, “but I forecasted this once. I made up a scary story a few years ago for Peter so that he’d take his protection seriously, and I… and I went too far. And I scared him.” He let out a breath, years-harbored shame rising in his chest. “And he cried. And this… this was the story.”

“Tony-”

“I’m supposed to keep him safe.” His shoulders jerked, his breath hitched. He bit his knuckles to hold back a sob, ribs creaking under the strain of keeping it in. “That’s… fuck, Rhodey, that’s my only job. I’m supposed to keep him safe.”

“You can’t protect him from everything.” There was a pause, hesitant. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because he’s your child. He’s gotta find his way just like everybody else, and you were letting him do that.”

He wished it was as easy as that, as straightforward and simple to navigate, but it wasn’t. Once again, they’d found their way back to the same frustration he’d been helping Peter cope with for years: being a Stark was not normal. Nothing around them would ever be normal. Sure, the world didn’t stop spinning, but they had to operate differently inside of it, just because of Tony and his curse of a last name.

The money was nice. The fame was even pleasant, every once in a while. It certainly had been when he was young. But now? God, Tony just wanted quiet. He didn’t want this for his children. He’d give anything to drop off the radar, live in some middle-class neighborhood, buy a lawnmower, argue with Pepper about school districts.

“But they took him because he’s my child,” he pushed. They took him because they know it’ll break me. “This… This wouldn’t’ve happened to another kid, Rhodey. You know that.”

“Maybe not, but it did happen, and that’s what you’ve got to work with. Now, come inside,” Rhodey ordered, slicing a knife down on the conversation, as if ending the words could end the horrors still playing through Tony’s head. “Come inside, sit with your wife, and let us fix this.”

There is no fixing this. This will never be fixed.

But instead of staying that, he just did as he was told, and hoped that the next few hours wouldn’t bring him doing something awful in Peter’s name.

It was such a pure name, washed clean by kid who carried it. It didn’t deserve to be sullied by Tony’s true nature, by the darkness he dragged behind him like a chain.

God knows that enough had already been sacrificed on that altar.

--

It was daylight, and there were reporters outside.

Happy and his guys were keeping them back. Apparently, they’d released details of Peter’s kidnapping to the press in the hope that someone might’ve seen something, that they’d come forward with information. In these kinds of cases, one detail, one first person account, could be the difference between life and death.

They’d set up a hotline, and the team was already chasing a few leads, but the reporters were chasing the story, the sensationalism of it all, and Tony hated it.

His child wasn’t a headline. His child was a child. A living, breathing, precious person. Something be cradled and adored and protected. Not something be exploited for a melodramatic hook.

Pepper and Steve would talk about it in tense, hushed tones. A couple of the Avengers had gone out to talk to the gathered press, just once or twice, but Tony didn’t have a clue what they were saying.

What did other parents do when this sort of thing happened? When their child was taken from them? He remembered a few high-profile kidnappings, all distant and wobbly in his head. What did they do? Did they print flyers? Did they give interviews? Did they beg?

Wait. Wait. That’s… That’s exactly what parents did.

They begged. They pleaded. They told the kidnappers that they’d do whatever they wanted, as long as they got their baby back.

He staggered to his feet, a little wobbly but emotions finally hardening into something tangible, something he could focus on.

There were only a few things on Earth that Tony Stark was willing to swallow his pride for, and this… this was one of them. His children would always be one of them.

He was going to beg.

He only made it about four steps towards the cabin’s door before the team noticed. There were a solid few seconds of scattered glances, a rapid exchange of responsibilities, until Natasha stood and took the lead.

“Tony?” She grabbed at his arm, expression somehow soft and fierce all at once. “Tony, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna make a direct appeal.”

The whole room went silent. He made the mistake of glancing at Clint’s face, and the raw pity there made him want to scream.

“Tony,” Nat said, voice quiet, coaxing, lowered like he was stupid, “you can’t.”

“I’m his father,” he choked out, because at the end of the day, that was the only thing that mattered, the only explanation that he should ever have to give. “I-I don’t even know why I’ve waited this long. I-”

And then Steve was there, reaching for his other arm, voice as calm and solid as it always was.

“Come on, Tony, let’s think this through-”

“Get away from me,” he snapped.

“Tony-”

“I’m going to make a direct appeal,” he repeated, and even he knew that he sounded like a broken record, but he just… all he could see was Peter. The stupid grin on his face earlier that day, when Morgan had barreled into his chest and he’d scooped her up off the ground, spinning her like she was the one who just graduated, like she was the most valuable thing he’d ever held. “I don’t know why I waited this long.”

Nat sounded a little desperate now, pulling hard at his sleeve, warning. “Tony, I know that you’ve convinced yourself that you’re doing what’s right, but you’re not thinking straight-”

And then there was Pepper.

She planted herself between him and the door, firm and solid and Tony knew, he knew that he wasn’t getting past her. He knew it from the moment he saw the look on her face: devastated and loving and calm.

“Stop it, Tony,” she said, soft and kind.

He grabbed for her, taking fistfuls of her shirt and clinging. He felt like a little kid, confused and lost and alone. He was navigating whitewater rapids without a map or a paddle. He couldn’t… He couldn’t do this. People weren’t built to survive this kind of thing. It wasn’t possible.

“I… I have to make a direct-”

“No,” she murmured, cutting him off. “No, Tony, Natasha’s right. You can’t.”

“Why not?”

He had meant for the question to be abrasive, angry, but it just came out broken.

“It can be seen as negotiating with the people who took him,” Pepper said, not apologizing, not pulling punches, “and if their goal is to destabilize us, or Stark Industries, or the Avengers, then they're going to see you and know that they're succeeding.” She let out a breath, composure cracking just a little, just at the corners. “You… You can’t make a direct appeal.”

He knew she was right. He’d known she was right long before he’d even made the choice to do it.

It still felt like he’d been torn in two.

He sank to the floor. He was vaguely aware of Natasha grabbing his elbow, guiding him down so he didn’t hurt himself. She pushed him up against the wall, then stepped away, gave him the room he needed to crumble.

“Honey,” Pepper whispered, voice hitching, hands tracing down his face. He didn’t know when she’d joined him on the floor, but he… he was so glad she was there. He was so glad that someone was still there. “Honey, I…”

“I’ve seen other fathers do it,” he croaked. “Before. In… In other kidnappings. I’ve seen other fathers do it.”

“I know.”

“I thought… I just thought that, that maybe if I tried, then I would’ve… then I would’ve done something.”

“I know.”

“I can’t stand not doing something. I have to be doing something.”

“I know that, too.”

His eyes jerked up, meeting hers in a clash of long-harbored panic. “Pep… What if he’s…”

“He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re not other fathers,” she said gently, a sad smile on her face. “Other fathers make direct appeals because that’s all they can do. They’re going to want to negotiate, Tony.”

“I… I can’t negotiate, Pep. Not… Not for him. How could I?”

“I know that. That’s why I’m going to do it.”

He blinked. That was… a good idea. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Pepper had never, ever lost a deal that mattered. Ever. She had a spotless track record. And while she loved Peter, she wasn’t as shredded by this as he was. Her head was still above the water, at least for now.

Pepper had joked, once, a little bitterly, that Peter was all Tony’s kid, she just helped out with the details. He knew that wasn’t entirely true, of course. She’d stepped up for Peter in ways that had mattered beyond her comprehension, but she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Peter had been his kid long before he’d been Pepper’s. And that changed dynamics. It had to.

“You have to bring him home.”

“We will, Tony,” Pepper said, and Tony wished with everything he had that he could drown himself in her belief, her faith. “We’re going to do everything we can to bring him back to you.”

He tried to ignore the fact that, as promises went, she’d just given him a pretty unstable one.

--

Tony was still sitting on the floor, staring blankly into nothing, when the alert chimed in.

He didn’t think anything of it, at first, and he supposed that he’d been doing a lot of that tonight. Staring past the obvious, overlooking the signs because ignorance was so blessed and calm compared to knowing.

But then Natasha’s face went hard, and she was waving for Steve, and then he was waving for Rhodey, and then he was waving for Pepper, and Tony realized that something had just gone very, very wrong.

He staggered upright, making a beeline for the rapidly growing group huddled around Natasha’s laptop. He couldn’t see past their shoulders, couldn’t even hear what they were saying, because so many voices were intersecting and overlapping in every other beat, and it was enough to make him want to scream.

“Is it Peter?” He snapped, and Steve swung to face him, face a mixture of pity and concern.

“Tony…”

That was all the answer he’d needed. It was Peter, then. Hell, what else would it be?

Something else had happened to Peter. Somewhere in his gut, he knew it was bad. Awful. Nothing that he wanted to see.

And yet he knew that he had to.

He tried to push past Steve’s restraining hand, craning his neck to catch of glimpse of the screen. “What is it?”

“It’s a ransom note,” Natasha said, forever to the point. He’d never appreciated that personality trait more than he did in that exact moment.

“And they sent a picture,” Steve added.

The world snapped to a halt. He felt hysterical. Unhinged. And Steve… Steve didn’t understand. None of them did, except maybe Clint. He was a father and he’d been torn away from his child. He just… He just wanted him back, even if it was in the form of a picture. Even if it was through a ransom note.

“Is it of Peter?!” He tried to lunge forward again, and failed. Damn Steve’s super strength. He wished he had the suit. “The… The picture. Is the picture of Peter?”

“Yeah, Tony, it is, but you have to understand-”

“Let me see,” he snarled. “He’s my kid. It’s for me. So let me see it.”

To his surprise, the group all exchanged glances, different people in varying degrees of sympathetic pain, and parted.

The image had obviously been taken with a polaroid camera, and then scanned or faxed alongside the handwritten ransom note. The quality was bad, but it was clear enough to show details. It… It wasn’t grainy enough to spare him.

Peter was tied to a chair, a dirty gag shoved into his mouth, digging into his cheeks. The kidnappers had tossed a newspaper into his lap, proof of life with the date clearly shown, but that wasn’t what caught Tony’s attention. No, it was Peter’s face that ached, somewhere deep in his gut. If he was a spiritual man, he would’ve said that it ached in his soul.

He knew his kid. Knew his eyes like he’d never known anything else. And that photo? It was wrong. Peter wasn’t just scared: he was drugged out of his mind. In fact, it was the general lack of fear in the kid’s gaze that disturbed him the most. He looked too incoherent for any emotion other than exhaustion.

He’d seen Peter high before, always after Spider-Man related injuries, but it’d never been like this. It had always been monitored, consensual, safe, and nothing they’d given him had ever made him vacant. He was usually just sleepy or giggly or both. He’d… He’d never looked so detached.

It made Tony want to hold him, shield him, but now he couldn’t do either of those things and it hurt.

“Oh, god,” he gasped, panic attack smacking right into him without warning, without a single chance to batten down the hatches. “Fuck.”

The world tilt-a-whirled. He felt Rhodey grab him, push and pull and tug him until he was sitting on the couch. His head was shoved between his knees, and conversations pinged around above him without any of the words computing. All he could hearseethink was Peter, Peter, Peter.

If I was a better father, none of this would’ve ever happened.

Eventually, someone grabbed his shoulders, hauled him upright, and it took him a full minute to realize it was Rhodey.

“Tony,” the Colonel said, and he sounded serious, like whatever he was saying was final, no arguments allow. “I’m going to call Bruce, alright?”

Yes. Yes. Bruce… Bruce would be good now. He’d heard them whispering about sedating him earlier, off in corners and hallways, when they thought he was too absorbed in his grief to notice. At the time, the thought had made his heart race, terror and revulsion making him paranoid. He couldn’t check out. He couldn’t. What use would he be to Peter like that?

Now, he’d lunge for just about anything that would take this feeling away. That would let him pull back from the grainy images of Peter’s eyes: glassy, unfocused, afraid and confused and lacking in that spark that would lull Tony into moments of forgetfulness. Moments when he’d genuinely have to remind himself that Morgan was the one with his DNA, not Peter.

“Tell him,” he gasped, eyes squeezed shut against the things he didn’t want to see, the photo that he’d never be able to forget, “tell him that I want whatever it is that Peter got.”

--

He didn’t know how long he slept for, but he knew that when he woke up, he woke up groggy. Groggy enough that, for a shamefully calm half hour, he forgot that Peter was missing.

And then he remembered, and he lost his child all over again.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. must’ve alerted Pepper when his heartrate spiked, because she slipped into the room within two minutes. She sat beside him, hand resting on his hip through their comforter. Her eyes were red, but she smiled like it was just another Tuesday, like their entire world wasn’t crumbling down around their feet, and he envied her. He envied her the composure. The ability to catalogue the things that were important and the things that weren’t.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.”

“I thought you’d sleep longer than this.”

He pursed his lips, ignored the implicit suggestion in the words. “Anything new?”

“No.”

He nodded, took in the disappointment slowly, wondered how long he could survive living in limbo. There were thousands upon thousands of unsolved missing persons cases in the United States alone. Every hour that crawled by lessened their chances of bringing Peter home alive, or even bringing him home at all. How could Tony possibly be one of those parents, the ones who spent the rest of their heartbeats agonizing over their child’s loss?

Are they still alive, hidden somewhere out in the world, vulnerable and unprotected? Are they dead? Which option is better: knowing that they’re alive, and suffering, or dead and free? Oh, god. What was it like, at the end? Were they afraid? Did they cry? Did they call out for their dad, because he was the one person who was always meant to save them?

Tony hadn’t been there for the start of Peter’s life. And now it might be over, Peter might be gone, and he hadn’t even been there for that, too. Couldn’t even say if it had happened.

“What time is it?” He asked, just to distract himself. Besides, every hour marked a dwindling statistic. Tony needed to know if they stood a chance, if there was still even a sliver of hope, and someone must’ve closed the curtains after he’d gone to bed, so he couldn’t quite see if there was daylight or darkness behind them.

“7:30.”

“Oh,” he whispered. That was later than he’d thought. The graph in his head nosedived. “Bruce gave me something.”

Pepper’s face twitched, eyes bleeding sympathy. “I know. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“They gave… They gave Peter something, too,” he choked out, “and… and he said that it made him feel sick and I wasn’t there to take care of him.”

Pepper’s blink lasted a good few seconds longer than it should’ve, as if watching Tony crumble was too much for her to watch, but the rest of her stayed steady. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He swallowed, trying to stamp down the perpetual helplessness that had taken residence in his gut, replace it with something else, something he could hold.

“How’s Morgan?”

“She’s okay. She’s been asking to see you.”

“I wanna see her.”

“In a minute.” Pepper slid her hand through his hair, voice soft, the kind of tone she used with Morgan or Peter when they were upset. “Try to relax a little first.”

“I had a dream,” he blurted. He knew that this was probably the opposite of what Pepper meant by relaxing, but he couldn’t help it. “I was in Peter’s bedroom, but it was… it was before. Right after May died. Remember… Remember how he wouldn’t get out of bed?”

For a split second, Pepper’s face flashed from composure to devastation, but it was so brief that it was easy to imagine that it had never happened at all. “Of course I remember. He wouldn’t get up, so you used to go in there and sit with him.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, and he smiled despite himself. He treasured those memories just as much as he wished they’d never happened. Helping Peter grieve for May was an ongoing tragedy, and one of the hardest things he’d ever had to watch, but once the initial aftershocks ended, Tony had gained a second child. “He’d curled up in my lap, and I was holding him. We didn’t… We weren’t even talking. I was just holding him.”

He swallowed, breath hitching. He met Pepper’s eyes, trying desperately to convey something that just wasn’t possible to capture in words. A loss, a fear, a weakening hope.

“Pep,” he whispered, hoarse and crackling, “Pep, I was holding him, but then I woke up and he wasn’t there.”

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t apologize, or promise that they’d get him back.

She just reached out and took his hand.

--

It was just past 11:00 when Rhodey pushed into the bedroom.

For a split second, Tony assumed the worst. But then,

“We found him,” Rhodey breathed. Beside him, Pepper gasped, like she couldn’t believe it. “Happy got a lead and, well, it doesn’t really matter. But we’ve got him, Tones. Steve’s got him.”

--

The flight from New York to Calverton, Virginia took an hour. They left Morgan back at the cabin, with Clint’s wife. Tony half considered bringing her, but he didn’t know what shape Peter would be in, physically or mentally. And he… he didn’t want to frighten her, although he supposed that was a moot point after the last 48 hours.

When this was all over, Tony promised himself that he’d apologize to both his children, for lots of different things.

For now, he just wanted Peter. He wanted to hold him, like in his dream but real. He wanted a moment that he couldn’t wake up from.

He mostly ignored Rhodey’s explanation of how they’d tracked the kidnappers down. It was complicated and had something to do with a gas station and a random college kid who’d seen Peter’s picture on the news. Happenstance, really. They’d gotten lucky.

“Is he alright?” Pepper asked, and Tony was glad that someone rational was thinking of the important things. “Did they hurt him?”

“The medics think that he may have a clavicle fracture,” Rhodey said. Tony could feel his eyes on him even though he was staring at his feet. “His kidnappers set off some tear gas and stun grenades when the team went it, so he’s got some irritation and ringing in his ears. No sign of sexual assault, but he’s still pretty out of it. They’re running a tox screen to make sure we’re not in danger of any overdoses.”

Tony looked up. He flexed his hands out in front of him, wincing when his wrists popped. “Is he asking for me?”

“Yeah. Steve said that that’s pretty much the only thing he’s said, too. Asked where you were a couple times and checked out.”

Tony bit his lip. Peter had been drugged, beaten, surrounded by doctors he didn’t know and thrown right into the chaos of a crime scene, and yet he’d still looked up at strangers and asked for him.

“Does he know I’m coming?”

“The medics told him.” Rhodey reached across the seats and grabbed his elbow as they started to descend, engines whining. “Hey, look at me. You sure you’re good to do this?”

He blinked, barely even processing the words.

What kind of question is that?

“This,” he started, quiet enough that there was no way Rhodey would’ve heard him if they didn’t have headsets, “is my job.”

“If he sees you upset, it’s gonna make him even more upset.”

“He won’t see me upset.”

Rhodey groaned, and it kind of hurt that nobody seemed to believe he was capable of parenting his own goddamn kid, no matter what emotional state he was in. “Tony, you’re-”

“Very good at this,” he finished, cutting off whatever Rhodey actually meant to say. He imagined he wouldn’t’ve liked it much, anyway. “I’m very good at this.”

“I know you are, Tony, but this has been a rough-”

“He won’t know I’m upset,” he snarled, voice dangerous, and it felt so good to have a purpose. To have something to curl over and protect. “He won’t.”

Rhodey sighed, defeated. He didn’t look like he believed him, but Tony didn’t really care. “Alright. Just be careful, okay? Don’t go overboard.”

Overboard. Of course he was gonna go overboard. He was gonna go overboard with absolutely everything for the rest of Peter’s life.

He didn’t bother walking when the helicopter landed. He just bolted, weaving through police and paramedics and FBI agents and what felt like a thousand other pointless uniforms. Pepper and Rhodey both tailed him, not missing a beat.

Nobody had told him where Peter was, and it was pitch black outside, midnight having only recently come and gone. The only light came from the dozens of different emergency signals spread out across the field, blue and red and yellow and every other color of the rainbow, all blinking at their own dizzying frequencies. There was no logical way that he should’ve been able to find his kid in that chaos, and yet his feet just took him there, like they’d walked this path a million times, even though he wasn’t sure that he’d ever been within a hundred miles of Calverton before.

He saw the security before he saw his kid. There were about ten guards holding a perimeter around the solitary ambulance, and Tony made a mental note to give Happy a goddamn raise once this was all over.

And then there was Peter, and every single mental note he’d ever made evaporated into thin air.

He was slouched over on the back of the ambulance, orange shock blanket folded over his shoulders. He was bloody, bruised. There was dirt and ash all over his face, but none of that mattered at all because he was still the most beautiful, wonderful, breathtaking thing Tony had ever seen.

“Peter!” His voice broke with the force of the shout. “Peter!”

Despite everything, Peter recognized him right away. His head turned towards the sound, and his arms lifted up, fingers curling weakly in the air.

“Tony?”

“Here,” he gasped, skidding to a stop in front of the kid. “I’m right here, Pete. I’m right here.”

He grabbed Peter’s face between his hands, dragged the pads of his thumbs along the curve of his cheekbones, brushing away tear-smudged grime, and all his anguish evaporated. Gone. He knew it’d return, at some point, probably in the folds of night, far away from where anyone but Pepper could see it, but for now he was calm, capable. He felt in control, because that was the only thing he was allowed to be. Because that was exactly what Peter needed him to be.

He’d meant what he’d said to Rhodey. He was good at this.

“Hey there, buddy,” he whispered. He sniffed hard against the tears building in his throat, but he was grinning so wide that his cheeks ached. “You really got yourself into a mess this time, huh?”

“He’s been a little too close to unresponsive for our tastes,” one of the medics offered, and he glanced up to her. She had a sympathetic smile on her face, soft and kind, “but we were hoping that having dad here might help.”

He nodded, hoping that his expression conveyed the thanks he didn’t have the breath to voice, and turned his attention back to Peter. “Hey, hey,” he cooed, shifting Peter’s face a little, trying to get a reaction. “You with me, squirt?”

Peter looked dazed, pupils blown so wide that Tony could barely find any brown in his eyes at all, but there was recognition there, too. Drowsy and subdued, but recognition all the same.

“‘M with you,” he slurred, blinking hard. “I don’ feel very good.”

“I know, squirt. We’re gonna fix that, okay?”

Peter nodded, then slumped forward into his chest, nose digging into the crook of his neck. “‘M sorry. Didn’… Didn’ mean it.”

Tony had expected the apology, but it still felt like a slap in the face. “Shh, shh. None of this was your fault, kiddo.”

I’m sorry I didn’t do enough to protect you.

“‘M so glad you’re here,” Peter mumbled, and Tony wondered if he even knew that he was talking. “Kept asking for you. They said you w’re coming.”

Tony could feel each one of Peter’s breaths on his skin, warm and slow and relaxed. He’d heard about hostage victims being keyed-up on release, jumpy and paranoid, and just here his kid was: practically dozing off in his arms, murmuring apologies and sermons of faith, easy and relaxed just because Tony was here. Because Tony was holding him.

“Of course I was coming,” he managed to choke out. “I’ll always come for you, Pete. I’m always gonna come for you.”

“Mm. I know. Always got me.”

He’d never deserve this. Never. He could spend the rest of his life devoted to charity, to selflessness, and yet there would never come a day when he would deserve his children.

It should’ve been a disheartening thought, but it wasn’t. It was humbling. It made him feel grateful.

He found the gaze of the nurse who’d first spoken to him, fingers threading slowly through Peter’s hair. “Can I take him?”

“Of course,” she said. “But he’ll need x-rays to confirm that fracture, and fluids, and I wouldn’t let him go unmonitored until his tox screens start coming back clear. You have someone back at base who can do all that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then he’s all yours.”

He wrapped the shock blanket more firmly around Peter’s shoulders, dreaming of the moment he could tear it off, burn it, and replace it with one of the red fleece ones Pepper had brought back from a conference in Colorado at the end of Peter’s senior year. He couldn’t wait until they could finally peel off the layers of this night and replace them with new memories, with new things, with good, peaceful, mundane things.

“I’m gonna take you home now, Pete,” he whispered, fisting his hand desperately in the back of the kid’s shirt. “We’re gonna go home.”

--

Peter slept straight through the helicopter ride back to New York, legs stretched over Tony’s lap like a cat. He woke up just long enough for Tony to guide him to his bedroom (Tony had to coach him up the stairs like it was his first encounter with the concept), but he was out again as soon as he reached his bed. Cho and Bruce both assured him that there was nothing to be concerned about, that his body was just burning off the drugs, but it didn’t stop him from laying Peter against his chest and keeping a finger on his pulse.

Cho and Bruce must’ve sensed that he wanted nothing more than to be left alone with his kid, because they rushed through the process of converting Peter’s bedroom into a makeshift hospital suite. Peter roused a little when Cho placed his IV, but only enough to make a mild noise of displeasure and bury himself more firmly into Tony’s arms. Otherwise, Peter seemed perfectly content to let Tony deal with the world for him.

That was fine. That was more than fine, actually. It was exactly what he’d been wanting to do for days.

Pepper wandered in and out of the room, spreading her time between them and Morgan. Bruce popped in to give him the tox screen results, but he left almost as soon as he came. He didn’t know what the rest of the team was doing, but he knew that Rhodey had stayed behind in Calverton, with Happy.

The longer he spent unwinding, the more he wished he’d asked better questions.

He didn’t have a clue what had actually happened to Peter, didn’t know if his kidnappers were captured or dead, or if they’d escaped. He didn’t know anything.

Steve knocked on the doorframe after a few hours of pointless wondering, shifting nervously on his feet. It was as if Tony had put an impassable barrier around Peter’s bed, the kind that no one could see but everyone could feel. Nobody was brave enough to touch it.

“You can come it,” he said, amused. “I don’t bite.”

Steve took two steps forward, then stopped, clearly having no intention of moving any farther. “I don’t mean to intrude-”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you need, Steve?”

“The press is clamoring for a statement,” Steve said, after a brief moment of hesitation, “preferably in person.”

Tony pushed some of Peter’s hair back from his forehead, forcing himself to ignore the tiny cuts and bruises littering the kid’s face. “Giving a statement would involve leaving this room.”

Steve just nodded. “I understand.” He gestured in Peter’s direction, stiff and unsure, like he was treading on ice. “How is he?”

Tony smiled. He really didn’t know why everyone seemed so determined to dance around the topic of Peter, especially now that he was home. It wasn’t a touchy subject, it was Tony’s favorite subject.

“He’s sleeping, safe and sound.”

“I’m glad.”

“They ran a tox screen,” he offered. “He’s got GBH and ecstasy and a couple other pretty nasty things in his system. Cho’s confident that the fluids should help him metabolize it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirmed that he’s got a small fracture in his collarbone, but his healing should take care of it pretty quickly once his body recalibrates.” He smiled, eyes never leaving Peter’s face. “He’ll be back to playing Mario Kart with Morgan in no time.”

“Good.” Steve walked around to his side of the bed, steps slow and measured. “Do you want me to give you the details of everything now, or later?”

“Give me the essentials. Are they dead?”

“Yeah.” Relief shot through him. “Clint got two with his arrows. The other one was sleeping when we came in. He tried to grab a weapon, but Nat got to him first. Sam found Peter locked in a closet in the back bedroom.”

The rage he felt at the detail conflicted with the tenderness that rose with every second he spent with his children. In the end, he set the anger aside. He didn’t need it, right now. It wouldn’t made Peter heal faster.

“You sure there were only three?”

“We’re looking into it, but we’re nearly positive.”

He dipped his head in Peter’s direction. “How was he when you found him?”

Darkness swooped over Steve’s face, and his voice went hard. “Not great.” A pause. “You think he’ll be alright?”

“Without a doubt,” he said, and he meant it. “He’s a tough kid, and he’s got a good therapist. Pretty sure there isn’t anything he can’t tackle and come out the winner.”

“And what about you?” Steve asked, as sincere as Tony had ever heard him. “Will you be alright?”

He smoothed his palm down Peter’s back, and thought back to his dream. He’d imagined the whole thing wrong, he realized. The joy he’d felt then hadn’t captured even a single fraction of the joy he was feeling now.

“Of course I’ll be alright,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’ve got the best family in the world.”

--

--

--

Natasha had never been in Peter’s room before. Then again, she’d very rarely been the cabin, either. Tony had gone out of his way to keep his family shielded from everyone, even the team.

After everything they’d been through, she had a hard time blaming him for that.

Tony and Peter were both asleep when she poked her head through the door. She guessed that it was probably the first time either of them had had any real rest in days. Even unconscious, Tony had placed himself between Peter and the door, arms wrapped tightly around the kid, as if someone was going to try to steal him when he wasn’t looking.

Bruce and Cho had turned the bedroom into a makeshift hospital room, monitors and an IV pole tucked up in a corner, but it didn’t change the cozy atmosphere. A few framed sci-fi posters littered the walls, but there were family pictures as well: everything from photobooth strips to professional portraits.

For a brief few seconds, she let herself wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up in a place that felt like a home.

Pepper ended up catching her attention before the thoughts could go too far. She was the only other person in the room, and, unlike Tony and Peter, she was actually awake. She beckoned for her to come in, posture as relaxed as Natasha had ever seen it.

“Hey,” Pepper greeted, voice just above a whisper. “Are you here for Tony?”

“I am.”

“Can it wait?”

Her eyes flickered up to the pair curled around each other on the bed, and she made her decision without a hint of hesitation. “I’ll make it wait.”

Pepper shot her a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. How are they?”

Pepper leaned forward in her chair, and brushed the back of Peter’s hand gently. It was a mother’s touch, kind and adoring. She tried not to stare.

“Peter’s still pretty out of it, but he’s been talking to Tony, so that’s a step in the right direction. It might take a while for his metabolism to clear out all the shit they pumped into him, but his vitals are holding steady.”

“Did the tox screen come back?”

Pepper sighed. “It did. It’s a miracle Tony didn’t have an aneurism when Cho read it to us. They gave him GHB and ecstasy, among a few other things, but there’s nothing we can do about it except wait.”

That certainly wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. She hadn’t said it out loud, but she’d been prepping herself for the possibility that by the time they found the kid, they’d have already OD’d him.

She’d seen those kinds of bodies before, and they weren’t pretty. She wasn’t sure how Tony’s would’ve handled it.

Speaking of which…

“And how’s Tony?”

Pepper’s face softened even more at the mention of her husband. She reached out to adjust his shirt, tone warm. “His baby’s back, so all’s right with the world again. At least for now.” She let out an exhausted breath. “And after everything that’s happened, I’ll take for now.”

She wondered if Pepper had slept since Peter’s graduation. The more she analyzed the past few days, the more she came to the conclusion that she hadn’t.

“I doubt Peter’ll be allowed out of his sight for the next few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Pepper snorted, a rare slip of her polish. Natasha guessed that she saw it more than the boys did. “Oh, Peter’s going to have Tony following him around for the next decade at least. It’ll be sweet for a while, because at first he’ll actually enjoy the coddling, but then both of them are going to make my life a living hell.”

Natasha just smiled. There wasn’t even a hint of genuine aggravation in Pepper’s voice: just relief. “You can’t wait, can you?”

Pepper’s face lit up. “God, Nat, I’ve never been more ecstatic over the thought of the two of them snipping at each other in my life.”

She laughed, careful not to disturb either of Pepper’s charges, then took a cautious step towards the door. As much as she enjoyed Pepper’s company, there were still a million things to be done. She’d handle the paperwork, and she’d let the parents handle the kid.

She wasn’t really qualified for the gushy stuff.

“I’ll let you spend some time with your family.”

“Actually, Nat, before you go…” Pepper paused, chewing on the words, “just, well, thank you. People are never able to forget that Peter’s Tony’s child, but they tend to overlook that he’s mine now, too. He’s been mine for nearly six years. And I know that I’ll never love him like Tony does, but… but I still love him, and I’m still grateful.”

“I’m just doing my job,” she said, smile tight.

“It’s a good job, Nat.”

She backed the rest of the way into the hall. “Yeah, it is.”

The door clicked shut, and she just barely inclined her head to the security guard that was stationed outside of it. They’d be a common presence around here, for a while, at least until Stark re-found that tenuous balance between keeping his kids safe and letting them live.

She’d been worried about Peter, before. If there was anyone in the world who understood trauma, understood what it could do to your soul, it was Natasha Romanoff, but she knew now that Peter Parker had something that she’d never had.

He had people who gave a shit. People who’d make sure that he was fine.

She wondered if he knew how lucky he had it.

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

Only You (Sidney Crosby Imagine)

The text got deleted for some godforsaken reason, so I’m hoping this fixes it.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Fem!Reader

Words: 3462

Warnings: NSFW

Requested: yes / no

Summary/Request:  hi! are you still taking requests? bc i wanted to know if i could get some sidney smut but like with a girl that's like way shorter than him

(AKA established relationship Sid smut with a super short reader)

No one would say you’re particularly good at dancing, but damn if you didn’t love it. You were always dancing by the end of every party, to whatever was playing over the speakers, whether it was intended to be a soundtrack or not. Today is no exception. At clubs you tended to get lost in the crowd, but since it was only yourself and a few of the other WAGs, you’re still visible from the outside. Visible to Sidney from his seat on the patio, where he’s stopped bothering to pretend to be invested in the conversation taking place around him.

He loves to dance as well-- especially when he’s got a few drinks in him-- but he’s always loved your dancing. He can’t help but watch every time you take the floor, mesmerized by the way you move. By the way you sway just a tad awkwardly, the way you don’t even care. The freedom of it. But more than that, he’s captivated by how stunning you are. His favorite thing to do is remind you of how gorgeous he thinks you are, with quick comments and long nights, depending on how much he gets to see you.

Before you ever met him, you’d already felt short enough. Dating a professional hockey player and spending time with his friends only made you more acutely aware of your height. Considering the entire team is at least as tall as Sidney, who has more height on you than you’d like to acknowledge, you felt like you were Jack after climbing the beanstalk, surrounded by giants. That’s bad enough, though you’d expected the guys to make you feel small and were prepared for it; what you weren’t prepared for was the WAGs. They were all tall and long-legged and blonde and graceful and dazzling. You were the shortest by far, not even reaching Sidney’s chin, and most of them had half a foot or more on you. It rarely bothered you, but when you’re surrounded by literal models all the time, it’s difficult not to feel self-conscious on occasion.

The party is winding down alongside the sunset, and the small group of you retire from dancing to help Tanger and Catherine start cleaning up. You gather some used plates and cups that had been abandoned on tables around the yard, depositing them in the trash bag Kelsey is walking around with. The serving dishes for the food need to be brought inside, but you notice that-- aside from Tanger-- the guys are still sitting around shooting the shit while the girls do the work. On your way inside with a casserole dish, you smack Sidney on the arm and scold the lot of them. They hang their heads and stand to join in with the tidying-up effort, adequately chastised.

Sid keeps shooting you looks, the kind of looks that make your face heat and your heart skip beats. Anticipation coils in your gut. You’d been having a great time dancing and talking with everyone, but you’re suddenly eager for this to be over.

The downside of Sid being Captain is that he can’t beg off team events early unless it’s a legitimate emergency, so you’re stuck cleaning and talking for what feels like an eternity. The party was a “team bonding” event to welcome the newcomers to Pittsburgh, and Tanev, Galchenyuk, and Kahun seemed to appreciate it, at least. You would appreciate if everyone would leave, so you can go home and fully enjoy the promise of the heated once-overs Sidney has been so generously giving you all evening.

You try to appreciate the time with everyone and be present in the conversations going on, but Sid has taken every free moment to shoot you glance after glance, like he can’t keep his eyes off of you. It’s not as if you haven’t been zoning out of various discussions to look at him too, though, so glass houses and all that. The guys slowly trickle out with their better halves over time, until Geno and Anna are the only ones left. It takes you a moment to notice, since you’ve been a bit transfixed by Sidney’s hands for a few minutes, because he’s definitely showing them off, knowing your weakness for them.

Momentarily, you meet eyes with Geno, who looks knowing and smug, before he turns his gaze to Sid. That’s probably going to be embarrassing later, but right now you don’t really care if anyone knows your plans. Despite being an asshole, Geno is actually a good guy, so he excuses himself and Anna not long after. They say their goodbyes, giving out hugs and cheek-kisses and back-slaps before leaving, both giving you a wink on the way out. They really are perfect for each other, huh?

More importantly, you’re now free to go. You make some polite conversation with Catherine quickly, just thanking her for hosting and wishing her luck with the children, offering to babysit if she ever needs a break. Sid switches with you, giving Catherine a hug and thanking her succinctly. It takes a handful of minutes for you to say goodbye to Kris, and you swear you can feel Sid’s frustration at having to wait. Typically, he wouldn’t care about waiting for you, but he’s been clearly turned on for at least an hour and probably desperate to get you alone. You’re definitely on the same page. Unfortunately: societal niceties.

The instant you’ve finished with Kris, Sidney has a hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the door and out with a final farewell thrown over your shoulder. Kris and Catherine stand in the doorway to see you out, making sure you get into the car and start up safely. Luckily, you can justify Sid’s potentially-inappropriate handle on you as coincidence, considering the fact that his hand naturally rests at the same level as your lower back, more or less. It’s just incidental, or a happy accident, or whatever. When he has to remove his hand so you can both load into his car, you immediately miss the contact.

You return the Letangs’ friendly wave as Sid backs out of the driveway. Even if he didn’t have the C, you’d never be able to leave events early because he always parks in the driveway and gets blocked in. Or maybe he lets himself get blocked in because the C means he’s trapped anyway? Not important. What is important is the big hand he lays heavily on your thigh, too high up for polite company and so, so warm. He keeps his eyes solely on the road as he drives, despite clearly holding onto the last of his composure by threads.

“The worst part is that you don’t even mean to do it,” he says, voice far deeper than when he spoke to Tanger. It sends a shiver down your spine, your entire body tensing in a barely-visible wave at the familiar sound. You have no idea what he means, and your confusion definitely shows on your face. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to want a response, because he just takes a beat and continues.

“You just dance, like there’s no one watching, like you wouldn’t even care if there were,” he says, voice conveying a thousand things; arousal, possession, awe, “And everybody watches you, but you only look at me.” His hands squeeze the steering wheel and your thigh in equal measure. You’re not proud of the sharp inhale you take in response, but you’re also not really thinking of your pride right now, or anything other than the heat and pressure just close enough to tease. Your brain is stuck on a loop of only you only you only you, but you don’t say it, not willing to give him the satisfaction of your devotion yet. Also, if you did give in and say it now, the two of you would probably end up with a ticket for public indecency. You can talk your way out of it once, but twice would probably be pushing it.

You don’t say a word the entire ride home, and his grip on you and the wheel eventually loosens. Though he does periodically tighten his fingers back around you, just sporadically enough to keep you on edge, keep you wanting. And god, did you want. Sid was the most beautiful man in the world on a normal day, so when he’s all focused and deliberate, almost ready to succumb to lust? Truly Athena herself couldn’t keep chaste in his presence.

Pulling up the driveway with his hand tight on the skin bared by your now bunched up skirt-- easily pushed out of the way by Sid’s searching fingers-- has your heart rate skyrocketing. He doesn’t spare you a peep before he cuts the ignition and exits the car, not needing to say a word for you to scramble to follow him, grabbing your bag and climbing out of the car so quickly you almost end up tumbling face-first onto the concrete. By time you get to the mud room, he’s already removed one shoe and is working on the other. He hadn’t worn a jacket, since it’s one of those rare September days where the world forgets it’s supposed to be transitioning into fall, so it’s 91° and 8-fuck-thousand percent humidity, so he doesn’t have to bother taking it off. Good. Less time wasted. As for you, you kick off your shoes and place them in their usual place a little less carefully than usual. Sid definitely has some level of OCD, but that won’t bother him. Probably. Maybe.

Clearly it doesn’t bother him right now, because he walks through the second door into the living room, still without a word. You follow behind, but staunchly refuse to compare yourself to an eager puppy despite the similarity. He leads the way to the bedroom, which seems way too far right now, in your opinion, but that’s not your brain talking. At least you get a nice view of Sid’s ass in his black swim trunks, close-fitting enough to accentuate his figure rather than hide it.

What you expect to happen once you reach the bedroom, is for him to immediately push you up against the door and kiss you senseless. What you do not expect, is for him to slowly crowd into your space, cupping your jaw with one hand and stroking your cheek gently with his thumb. The other hand comes to rest on the side of your ribcage, squeezing gently once as he looks down into your eyes. There’s so much adoration in his gaze that you feel like the swelling affection inside you is going to make you burst.

“I love you,” he says. His expression turns a bit bittersweet, like he knows he doesn’t say it enough, but appreciates you understanding it anyway. You cradle his face in both hands and kiss him once, almost chaste. A far cry from what you anticipated.

“I love you too,” you reply. You know you maybe say it too much, often enough that he gets flustered sometimes, or thinks it’s said out of habit and not sincerity. But you mean it every time, with all your heart. Again his expression changes, this time from bittersweet certainty to overt devotion. He looks at you as if you’re the most extraordinary person in the world, like he can’t believe he gets to have you, like you’re the exceptional one in this relationship. All you can do is kiss him again, longer this time, harder.

This is where the passion you’d expected comes in, where he starts kissing you like he can’t bear to part from you even for the necessity of breath. Where his hands run down your sides to sneak under your shirt, so they can skim back up your stomach to cup your breasts. Your bathing suit suddenly feels like far too much material between his hands and your skin, and you itch to take it off. To take all of it off, to bare yourself to him in a way that never felt so right with anyone before.

With your diminutive stature, he has to bend at the waist to kiss you while standing, and you know it sometimes gives him a crick in his neck. Which is totally the reason you’re eager to get to the bed, obviously. Not because his hands are warm even through your top and his lips are soft and damp against yours and the small needy sounds he makes into your mouth drive you wild. You’re just being considerate. Yup.

Whatever ulterior motives you may or may not have, you nudge him backward, guiding him toward the bed even as he continues to dip down to kiss you between looking back to make sure he doesn’t trip. When the backs of his knees hit the mattress, he doesn’t fall, just stops. He strips off his shirt with an unrestricted urgency he never shows anyone but you, throwing it toward the hamper. You follow suit, shucking off both tops, and pushing down your coverup skirt for good measure. He pauses, brushing his big hands over your shoulders and down your chest, admiring your figure so brazenly you feel yourself blush.

“You just gonna look?” you ask rhetorically, still a tad breathless, but feeling a bit bold yourself. In return, you’re graced with that beautiful crooked smile and a look far too dark to match-- under normal circumstances, at least. He squats down to grab you around the waist, tossing you onto the bed in a feat of strength that’s more than a little sexy. The noise you make is decidedly less sexy, but he just smiles wider, shoving off his trunks like an afterthought before joining you on the bed. You wriggle out of your suit bottoms, not getting a chance to throw them off the bed before he’s on top of you.

Sid is so intense this way, laser focus directed solely on you, fixated on the best way to take you apart. For the most part, you go with the flow. You’re more than willing to follow his lead, knowing from experience that he’ll make this more than exceptional.

With your body bared to him, he looms over you, eyes roaming your upper body. His thick thighs are solid and warm against your own legs, closer to your knees than you might expect of a more proportional couple; though all you can think of is how the scratch of his wiry body hair drives you a bit crazy. He kisses you again, only momentarily, before moving to your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. There will definitely be some dark spots that Malin and Kelsey will tease you about next time they see you, but the pressure and tinge of pain feel so good that you don’t much care.

Before Sid, you had assumed that your breasts simply weren’t that sensitive. Since the first time you’d slept together, however, you’d learned that maybe you just hadn’t had competent partners before. He sucks more hickeys into the thin skin of your breasts, mouthing and teasing at your nipples until you’re arching into his lips as you make sounds a bit too desperate for your liking. It’s just so good.

Occasionally, he’ll ask you to sit on his face. He knows it’s not easy for you, because your height means you have to rest a bit higher on your knees, which stresses your thighs. But he loves it so dearly that you do it from time to time. This evening, however, he seems far too frantic to eat you out as per usual. Instead, he abandons your chest to recapture your mouth. After so long, he knows exactly how to move, to lick, to press, to drive you crazy. Crazy enough that his fingers dipping into your folds make you gasp into his mouth in surprise.

Your focus shuttles between his fingers stretching you meticulously and the way he’s kissing the soul out of you. Your brain simply refuses to focus on one thing, jumping from his lips to his fingers to his thighs on your knees to his dick occasionally brushing your thigh. It’s all so much, his body the perfect complement to yours, no matter how counterintuitive that may seem.. He’s so big and warm, enveloping you in smooth skin and pounding pulse, completely encompassing you.

Once he deems you adequately stretched, he kisses you once again, slow and wet and deep. He asks you for the umpeenth time if you’re ready, if you’re okay with this, and you’re too much of a goner for him to do much more than kiss him and shimmy your hips closer to his own.

You’ll never get used to the first push inward. Sid’s not particularly long, but he’s thick, stretching you wide and hitting all the right spots you never even knew existed before him. His back is curled in a deep arch so he can bury his face in your chest for the initial stretch, like if he looks at you, he’ll lose it. Not that you would know, really, with how you throw your head back into the bottom edge of the pillow. All you can do is make a small “ah” sound, rocking your hips back and forth in an attempt to adjust to his size. Once bottomed out, Sid stays still as long as you need, no matter how the involuntary rolling of your pelvis makes him dig blunt nails into your hips.

“Come on,” you say, finally, hips reduced to tiny twitches, “Fuck me, Sid.” The phrasing draws a broken moan from his throat. He doesn’t bother wasting time with slow, dragging thrusts; just goes straight to fucking you into the mattress with as much speed and force as he can manage. Your ankles barely meet behind his back with how broad his torso is, so you dig fingertips into his shoulders to avoid being driven up the mattress.

No matter how single-minded he may seem as he shoves in and drags out, he still kisses you so sweetly. Whispering endearments and reassurances against your lips (though he still has to crane his head to do so, so maybe avoiding neck pain wasn’t your only motive for getting him into bed), he steadily fucks you into oblivion. By time he sucks a mark just under your jaw that’s sure to last, you’re gone, floating somewhere above yourself. When he comes, he bites into your collar bone, groaning out his pleasure as he fills you. You reply with a groan of your own, acutely aware of the warmth filling you, his cock still spreading you wide.

“Maybe I should dance more often,” you quip, once your breathing settles to something manageable. Sid huffs a laugh into the pillow, rolling to the side to avoid crushing you any more than he already has.

“As long as you’re not looking at any other guys,” he replies, letting his head flop to the side to smile at you.

“You know it’s only ever you, Sid,” you can feel your smile grow into something halfway between giddy and sentimental, “Only you.” He groans dramatically and throws an arm over his face, in a gesture you know means that he wishes he was 18 again so he could go twice in a row. All you can do is laugh and turn toward him, peeling his arm away and giving him a soft, lingering kiss.

“Just make sure you stay on the edge of the crowd so I can actually see you,” he says against your lips, grinning even as you gasp and smack his shoulder.

Over time, you’ve learned that aftercare is important to Sid. He likes to pamper you, to guide you into the shower so he can soap you up and wash you down. He loves to carefully towel you off, pressing gentle kisses to the places he bruised with his mouth and fingers. To cover you with his clothing, a t-shirt that reaches past the mid-point of your thighs and shorts that may as well be capris. To settle you into the bed once the duvet has been tossed toward the hamper, wrapping you in the sheets and comforter, tight against himself. Taking care of you has always been his favorite thing, the way you look up at him with drooping eyes and sleepy voice to thank him for everything. For the reassurance, for helping clean you, for your vaguely sore lower body and the way it makes you feel such deep satisfaction, for loving you, for making you feel loved, for making you believe you are loved. Believe you are loved, are cared for, are worth his love and care. Only you.