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pretendingboyfriends · 3 years

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A/N: ok WOW first off, i’m so sorry i literally haven’t posted since december. these past few months have been so wild what with new classes and my mental health declining. i can’t promise the last few parts of this lil series will come at a timely manner just because my mental state can be very unpredictable, but i will try my best to get them out as fast as i can, especially when summer is right around the corner. i wanna thank @thestyleswritings and @friendlyneighborhood-mendes for being my lovely beta readers. as i’ve said before, my writing is nothing without betas so thank u for taking the time to review my piece and give me honest feedback. anyways, i made this part extra long for you guys and i really really hope you love it. <3

Warnings: explicit language, panic attack, anxiety, deidre being a megacunt (as always), smut

Word count: 9.3k+

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It’s been a few days since your first date with Harry, the two weeks you’ve planned to spend at the beach feeling far too short as each day passes like a whirlwind. And over these days, you’ve found that getting comfortable with him is an easier feat than you’d initially imagined. Moments with him are hardly fleeting. You find yourself spending most of your time with him, whether it be going for a swim on the beach or sneaking off somewhere in the house to make out. If this were anyone else, you’d feel suffocated spending so much time with them, but with Harry it’s so much different. You can’t keep yourself away from him, even if you try, and you’re beginning to think that the feeling is quite mutual for Harry as well.

The air is humid and warm, a quaint breeze sifting through the leaves of the palm trees that surround the pool’s fence, finding its way to where the three of you lounge. The kiss of the sun blesses your exposed skin as you and Deidre lie side by side on the poolside chairs. You've lost count of how many hours the three of you have spent in the afternoon sun, but, as hot as it is, you're thoroughly enjoying every moment spent actually being with Deidre for once. Even if you aren't actually doing anything but lying in the sun, just the fact that she's spending time with you for longer than an hour makes you happy.

Your eyes scan each line of the book in your hands, allowing your brain to paint a picture of each image as best as it can. Deidre snores quietly beside you, arms draped over her face to shield her eyes from the blinding light and Harry splashes around quietly in the pool, occasionally pulling himself under for a few moments before coming back to the surface for air again.

As you turn the page of your book, the sudden splashing of water fills your ears before several cold droplets hit your warm skin. It immediately draws your attention away from your book and up to where Harry stands in front of your chair.

"Hi," You muse, pulling your legs up to curl beneath you.

"Hi back," He smiles as he pushes his fingers through his long, dripping wet hair.

You pluck your sunglasses from your nose and gingerly place them on the top of your head so that you can get a better look at him. "Need something?"

"Could you grab me a Coke from the cooler, please?" He asks, yanking his towel from the edge of his own chair and wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Yeah, sure." You nod, sliding a bookmark into the spine of your book and placing it beside you on the chair before reaching into the cooler next to you for an unopened can. The chilled perspiration dripping down the aluminum can causes a chill to travel up your spine as soon as your fingertips make contact with it. You reach forward to place it into Harry's hand, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment.

He mutters a quick 'thanks' before cracking it open and lifting it to his lips. As he does this, you're given an opportunity to allow your gaze to fall down the rest of his body. His tanned skin glistens delicately in the sunlight, each droplet of water illuminated like tiny specks of glitter all along his chest and arms. The dark ink that litters his skin has somehow become a shade darker as well, each detail becoming more apparent to your eye the longer you study the expanse of his chest and shoulders.

"Enjoying the view?" Harry hums, very obviously amused by your mindless ogling.

You clear your throat, feigning innocence as you internally burst into flames of embarrassment. "I don't know what you're talking about." (Luckily, Deidre is still snoring peacefully beside you, completely oblivious to the flirtatious comments being thrown back and forth between you and Harry.)

He chuckles, sipping his drink one last time before placing it on the ground by his chair. "Are you sure you don't want to come join me for a bit?" He motions back to the pool as he drops the towel back on the chair.

"I think I'm alright staying here," You hum, tilting your head to the side as you gaze up at him. "I'm quite enjoying my book." You sigh, picking your book back up and waving it in the air to show him.

He sighs in disappointment, shaking his head. "That's a shame. The water feels fantastic."

You watch him turn back towards the pool, admiring the way the muscles in his back flex with his every move. He crouches down at the edge of the water, placing one hand on the cement as he slings himself into the pool, water splashing all around him. He swivels around in the water so that he's facing you again, his eyes trained on yours with a mischievous look on his face. You squint in suspicion, tilting your head to the side. "What are you doing?"

"Nothin'." He shrugs, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. He continues to wade out a little further and you roll your eyes at him, turning your attention away from him and back to your book.

There are a few moments of silence in the air as you're pulled back into the imagery of the book, paying no mind to whatever mischief Harry is up to in the pool. But then, before you have even a second to process what's happening, cold water splashes up onto your legs, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as the book slips out of your grasp.

"Harry!" You screech, sitting up on your chair to scold him. He's standing in the water at the edge of the pool with an evil smile spread across his face, his hands scooping up the water and splashing it up in your direction. The mixture of your screeching and the cold water reaching her side of the pavement, causes Deidre to wake from her slumber, scrambling up into a sitting position.

"Harry, what the fuck!?" She screams from beside you, grabbing her sandal from the ground and hurling it in his direction. He cackles dramatically as he dodges the shoe by swiftly slipping beneath the surface of the water. The shoe falls into the water behind him with a loud 'PLUNK' and then resurfaces, floating aimlessly.

He rises back to the surface within a few seconds, chuckling as he pushes the sopping wet hair out of his face. "Sorry, did I get ya?"

Deidre scoffs, angrily wiping the water droplets from her legs with her towel. "I was having such a good nap and you ruined it."

"Oh, come on," He rolls his eyes, dragging out the 'n' with a teasing lilt. "I was just playin' around. It's gettin' kinda boring being in here all alone."

She lies back against the chair exactly like she had been before, draping her arm over her eyes once again. "Suck it up."

Harry wades back to the side of the pool, folding his arms against the warm cement and leaning his chin against them with a pout on his lips. "Pretty please?"

Before either you or Deidre even has a moment to respond, Deidre's phone begins to sing loudly with the sound of her ringtone. She pats her hand around the chair for her phone for a few moments, not bothering to lift her arm from her eyes to look for it. She finally grasps it, sliding her thumb across the bottom of the screen and lifting it to her ear.

"Hello?... oh, hey, what's up?" She speaks to the person on the other end, finally lifting her arm from her eyes so that she can sit up on the chair. "Yeah, I'd love to! I can be there in, like-" she pauses to glance at the time on her phone. "10 minutes?" Another pause. "Okay, sounds good, see you there!" She lifts the phone from her ear, tapping the screen once to end the call before quickly standing up from the chair.

"Who was that?" You ask, tilting your head at her in curiosity, though you sense that you already know the answer.

"That was Jeff and the rest of the gang. They invited me to mini golf with them," Deidre replies, folding her towel over her arm and picking her sandal up from the ground. "You can come along, if you want."

Immediately, you feel your mood begin to plummet as you watch her get ready to leave, barely even giving you a second glance as she retrieves her sandal from the water. You know she's not doing it on purpose, but it's hard not to feel hurt by her inability to spend even so much as a day with you.

"That's okay," You respond, trying to mask the shakiness of your voice with a cheerful lilt. "Have fun, though."

"Okay, well, I'll see you guys later!" She smiles, waving back to both of you as she turns on her heel and bounds up the porch stairs.

After the sound of the back door swinging shut fills your ears, you glance over in Harry's direction to find that he's watching you intently. His playful expression from just a few moments ago is exchanged with a concerned frown. You sigh, picking your book back up in hopes of finding a distraction from the sinking feeling deep in your stomach, but Harry has other plans.

A fleeting, silent moment passes before Harry decides to speak.

"Hey,"

The sound of his voice pulls your attention away from the book in your hands, forcing you to move it from in front of your face so that you can look at him. "Hi," you make eye contact with him, finding that he's still in the same position from before, arms folded on the pavement as his chin rests against them.

"You alright?" He questions, tilting his head to the side as he watches you.

You shake your head a little, glancing down at the book in your lap. "It's fine. I don't really know what I was expecting, she's been doing this for the past week and a half. I shouldn't even be surprised at this point."

He's silent for a moment, gazing at you thoughtfully as he thinks of what he's going to say in response. "You really should join me in here. It'll help you get your mind off things."

You hesitate, rubbing the back of your neck with the palm of your hand as you mull over his proposition. It'd be nice to have a distraction from the nagging feeling of betrayal deep within your chest, and you know Harry will do anything in his power to make sure you feel better. After a silent debate with yourself on whether or not you really want to join him, you push yourself up from the chair, muttering a quiet affirmation before slowly padding over to the edge of the pool.

You crouch down, moving to sit on the warm pavement as your legs hang over the edge and dip into the cool, clear water. Harry pushes himself off from the wall, spinning himself around 360 degrees.

"Come onnnn," He sings, wading closer to you. "Come swim with me."

You scrunch your nose, kicking your legs in the water and staring down at the way the water splashes up into the air. "Gimme a minute to get used to the water, jeez." You scoff, kicking a bit of water in his direction.

He rolls his eyes, wading closer to you so that you can feel his warm breath against your knees and the current his kicking feet create beneath you. "That's an excuse if I've ever heard one," his fingers curl around your right ankle, giving you another mischievous smile identical to the one he gave you earlier.

"What are you doing?" You squint your eyes at him, cautiously tugging your leg against his grip.

"M'helpin' you get in," he hums nonchalantly. "Seems like you need a bit of coaxing."

A small smile breaks across your face and you roll your eyes, placing your hands on the pavement behind you and leaning back against them. "I'm quite comfortable right here, actually."

"Alright, then you leave me no other choice..." Before you can even process what he's saying, he's grabbing your other ankle and yanking you into the water in one quick movement. The water splashes around you, engulfing you beneath the surface and immediately soaking into your bathing suit.

You resurface, sputtering and choking on the water as you rub the chlorine from your burning eyes. "I hate you so much right now," You huff, dropping your hands and squinting up at him. He's wearing an mischievous smile, fully content with his successful attempt of getting you into the pool.

"It's really not that bad," he rolls his eyes, wading further away from you. "You'll get used to it."

You glare at him, shoving your hands forward beneath the water to splash him directly in the face, but he merely laughs and swiftly wipes the droplets from his eyes like it's nothing. You watch as he slinks towards the very edge of the pool several feet away from you, turning back to face you before grabbing a small, foam ball floating on the surface. He tosses it in your direction, watching it land directly in front of you, splashing the water gently.

"C'mon, toss it back to me,"

You take the ball into your hand, squinting up at him. "Is this your idea of fun?"

He shrugs. "Got any other ideas?"

At that, you roll your eyes and reluctantly hurl the ball back into his direction. He catches it swiftly with both hands, tossing it up into the air a few times as he contemplates his next move.

“Oh, my god,” you groan, rolling your head back onto your shoulders in dramatic exaggeration. “I’m not doing this.” You turn to wade towards the side of the pool.

“No, wait!” He calls, immediately running (more like bobbing) through the water towards you as fast as he can.

You ignore his call and start to climb the side of the pool, but he catches you before you can fully climb out, curling an arm around your waist and tugging you back against him.

“Please,” he mutters, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck. “I know you’re upset, but I just wanna help you get your mind off things.”

You sigh, reluctantly dropping your hands from the edge of the pavement. You’re silent for a moment as he rests his chin against your shoulder, small puffs of air hitting your damp skin.

“I really thought she was going to try to spend time with me today,” you whisper, turning in his arms to face him. “She didn’t tell me she wouldn’t do it again, though, so I guess I’m the only one to blame.”

He frowns at that, shaking his head. “Don’t blame y’self for any of this. You had expectations for this trip and she completely obliterated them.”

Jutting your bottom lip into a pout, you avoid making eye contact with him. You know he’s right. She promised you she’d spend the trip with you, just you, but she’s almost done everything in her power to do the opposite.

Harry leans forward, pecking your pouted lips gently. He starts to pull away, but you want more so you lock your arms around his neck and he takes that as an invitation to continue, pecking your lips in quick intervals. Even though you’d only just begun to show affection towards each other in this short period of time, it feels like you’ve been together for years. Everything is just so easy with him. It helps that you grew up with each other, but your interactions were so scarce over the years that you didn’t even feel like you really knew him until this trip.

As you’re opening your mouth ever so slightly for him to stroke his tongue over your bottom lip, the feeling of his fingers creeping along your waist has you chuckling nervously. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothin’...” He hums, hooded eyes gazing into yours as he traces his fingertips up against your sides. He leans in for another kiss with a lazy smirk on his lips and you hesitantly grant him one, wary of his wandering hands.

Suddenly, his hands aren’t so gentle anymore and the seemingly harmless pressure of his fingers has turned into almost painful tickling. You throw your head back against your shoulders with a cackle, pressing your palms into his chest in an attempt to push him away but he doesn’t budge. The vicious assault of his fingers draws giggle after giggle from your lips with the occasionally squeal of frustration as you squirm in his unyielding hold.

“I. Hate. You.” You grunt between each word, smacking your hands against his biceps, chest, and shoulders playfully.

Finally, you’re able to tear away from him, nearly diving into the water to get away from him, but he’s faster than you and within moments he has a large, tattooed arm curled around your waist once again. You scream out in frustration, kicking your legs in the water and causing it to splash out in front of you nearly six feet into the air.

“You can’t escape that easy,” he chuckles into your ear, continuing his assault on your poor midsection as you whimper and struggle limply.

Suddenly, a loud rumble of thunder pulls your attention from Harry’s abuse and up to the sky. You've been so distracted by Harry’s stabbing fingers that you hadn't seen the dark cumulonimbus' gathering directly above you in the sky, uttering low groans of warning to anyone near. It begins as small, harmless droplets, but quickly blossoms into a violent downpour, pounding into the surface of the water.

“Fuck!” You screech as you scramble to get out of the pool. Harry is taking his time, though, laughing at the way you’re panicking. “Do you want to get struck by lightning?!” You yell to him, yanking your towel and book from the chair you were lying in before.

He laughs at you, climbing out of the pool and standing by the edge briefly so that he can wipe the moisture from his eyes. The sight of him standing there in nothing but a tight, wet pair of swimming trunks, nearly causes your mouth to water. If it weren’t for the raging thunderstorm pelting you and everything around it, you’d take a few moments just to soak in the view, but you have no time for that.

You bound up the stairs leading to the back porch, holding your book and towel close to your chest to keep them from getting any wetter than they already are. Harry soon follows with his own belongings, giggling playfully like a little boy as the screen door slams behind him.

“Shit- that came out of nowhere!” He chokes, pushing his hand through the sopping curls sprouting from his head and framing his beautiful face.

You shake your head at him with a small chuckle as you toss your towel to the side and yank the sliding door open so that you can step inside. Harry tosses his own towel over a porch chair before he follows you inside, sliding the door closed behind him. The contrast of the roaring sound of the storm outside compared to the silence inside the house is almost deafening. Both of you are wet and shivering on the carpeted floor, looking shamelessly like a pair of greasy rats.

Both of you shower (separately) and change into more comfortable, dry attire, soon finding yourselves in the kitchen scavenging for something to eat.

“Y’know what I’m really craving right now?” Harry asks, standing in front of the open refrigerator.

“What?” You reply, popping a grape into your mouth as you lean back against the counter.

“Chocolate chip cookies.”

You pause for a moment, contemplating the prospect of freshly baked cookies melting in your mouth. “Now that you mention it, I'm really craving some as well."

"I think it's something in the water." He hums sarcastically, scrunching his nose to emphasize the sarcasm.

“Perhaps,” you hum in response, a smile itching to spread across your lips.

"Alright then, let's do it!" Harry says, pushing himself away from the counter. "Let's make chocolate chip cookies."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! Come on, we've got nowhere else to be. This will give us something to pass the time!"

Soon, you find yourself hip to hip with Harry at the kitchen counter, a large spread of every required ingredient to make chocolate chip cookies laid out in front of you. You'd found a few old aprons in the back of the pantry and of course you'd both thrown them on to make the experience as authentic as possible.

Harry's apron of choice is a bright yellow number with tacky, purple frills lining the edges and the words "Grandma's Kitchen" stitched across the breast in that same purple color-all you can do is giggle at the sight of him. Yours, however, is nearly the opposite of his; a plain white piece with a pattern of small, black flowers.

Harry frowns at you when you begin to laugh at the sight of him in the apron. "What?? You don't like it?" He huffs, placing his hands on his hips.

"No, no-" you snort, attempting to hold in the cackle itching to escape your throat. "It's great, I love it. Really suits you."

He smiles to himself, turning to the counter. "Thank you, I think it's quite tasteful as well."

You notice that he's pulled his hair up into a bun, so you're able to admire his face in the close proximity. He really is handsome, you think. His eyes are shockingly vibrant - piercing yet kind all at the same time. When he smiles, the very edges of his eyes crinkle as if they're smiling with him and it's getting harder for you to keep yourself from getting lost in them. You'd always found him attractive like that, but within the past week and a half you've gained a different, more meaningful attraction to him. He isn't just your childhood crush anymore - he's Harry. Harry, the boy who remembers how you take your coffee; Harry, the boy who takes you out to coffee and bookstores and proceeds to buy you nearly half the store without you even knowing; Harry, the boy that would rather spend his entire vacation with you when he could easily spend it partying with a new girl every night.

You shake your head at him with a small chuckle, turning back to the counter before looking down at the recipe shown on your phone screen. "So..." you begin, scanning over the first few steps on your screen. "First, we need to combine all the dry ingredients into one bowl and then combine all the wet ingredients in another bowl."

"Alright," Harry hums through a nod, selecting all the dry ingredients from the layout in front of you and collecting them into his corner. "I'll mix the dry ingredients."

You acknowledge him with a quiet murmur before you continue to scan the list of instructions. As you do so, your vision begins to blur slightly. You ignore it at first, hoping it goes away, but when it doesn't, you're forced to blink a few times in an attempt to clear it. Your attempts are in vain, however, because your vision does not improve. Nevertheless, you choose to ignore it in hopes that it will go away on its own.

As you begin to crack eggs; scoop perfectly measured cups of sugar; and combine softened butter all together into a bowl, a slight wave of light-headedness overwhelms you. It's unexpected, so you place the bowl on the counter, sliding it away from you slightly so that you can grip the edge of the counter to stabilize yourself.

Harry seems to notice the shift in your behavior, nudging your arm gently with his elbow to grab your attention. "Is everything alright? Y'look a bit flustered,"

Before you're able to respond, your heart rate suddenly and noticeably begins to increase as well, causing your breathing to become more labored and frantic. You shake your head, gripping the edge of the counter until your knuckles are white, head hung on your shoulders as you attempt to catch your breath. "I think I'm- I think I'm having a panic attack,"

You sense him moving closer to you, a warm palm pressed against your back in a soothing manner. "Can I- What can I do to help?"

"I just- I need to sit down," You mutter between breaths, turning slightly to slide down the cabinets and onto the floor with your hand still firmly placed against your chest. A slight numbness begins to form around your nose and your hands begin to shake uncontrollably as you crumple onto the kitchen floor.

Harry follows quickly, moving to sit directly in front of you and gently taking both your hands into his own. "Can you try to breathe a bit slower for me?" He mutters, rubbing his thumbs against your knuckles soothingly. "Maybe in through your nose and out through your mouth?"

You nod to him, taking deep breaths in through your nose and then breathing out through your mouth just like he'd instructed. The feeling of his thumbs rubbing against your skin so gently helps to ground you in the moment, although the feeling of panic and anxiety still rages through your veins. Just his presence alone gives you a level of comfort, but it isn't enough to obliterate the numbness in your face and the hot tears gliding effortlessly down your cheeks.

You don't know how much time passes, but eventually your breathing has gone back to normal and you're left exhausted and still shaking.

"Are you feeling better?" He hums, gently pressing his lips to your knuckles as he gazes up at you with the same concerned expression he'd been sporting as soon as your episode began.

"Yeah- Yes," You stutter in response, leaning your head back against the wooden cabinets. "Fuck, I don't even know where that came from, I'm sorry."

"No, please, don't apologize. Just wanna make sure you're alright,"

You give him a weak smile. "I'm pretty exhausted, but I'll be okay after lying down for a bit or taking a nap."

"Yeah? Need me to help you up or do you want to sit here for a while longer?" He asks, tilting his head to the side as he smiles back at you.

"Do you think you could get me some water, please?"

"Of course," He nods, immediately standing up in front of you to grab a fresh glass from one of the upper cabinets and fill it with water before kneeling back down to place it into your trembling hands. "There you are, babe."

You smile up at him. "Thank you."

He smiles back as if to say "you're welcome" as he gently rubs his knuckles against your arm to give you some form of comfort.

It takes nearly 10 minutes for you to gather your bearings on reality again, but having Harry there helps so much more than if you were experiencing this alone. He watches you intently the entire time, hyper aware of every breath you take like he's afraid you'll fall apart in front of his eyes, and all you want to do is reach up and smooth out the deep creases between his eyebrows.

"Could you help me up now?" You croak, squeezing his hand gently.

"Yeah- yes, of course." He scrambles to securely wrap an arm around your waist, his other hand still clutching one of yours as he lifts you from the kitchen floor. Once you're fully stabilized on both of your feet, you look at Harry, hands resting on his shoulders as he cups his hands around both your elbows, searching your face frantically for any sign of distress. "You alright?"

You nod, giving him a weak smile and sliding your arms up around his neck to pull him in for a hug. His arms immediately fall to wrap around your waist, pressing your body into his in a warm, comforting embrace.

"Sorry I couldn't finish making the cookies with you," You mutter into his ear, pressing your face into his neck.

"S'alright, I can manage on my own." He replies, rubbing his hand up and down the length of your back. He can feel the erratic thudding of your heart against his chest, your slow, shaky breaths fanning directly over his ear simultaneously. His heart aches.

After you take yourself back to your bedroom to rest, Harry finishes the cookies by himself. Due to his previous baking experience, the task is a breeze, but during the time he spends mixing and preparing the cookies, all he can think about is how angry he is with Deidre. He'd seen her, time and time again, take advantage of your kindness without a single thought as to how it might make you feel. She's selfish, and you're far too good for her. Deidre doesn't deserve to call you her best friend.

Just as he begins to pull the steaming, golden cookies from the oven, the sound of the front door swinging open from behind him catches his ear. Deidre stumbles in from the pouring rain, fumbling around as she removes her sandals and tosses her tote bag to the floor next to them.

He pokes his head into the living room to look at her. She's almost completely soaked-- her long, dark hair is sopping wet, clumping together in thick strands, and her thin cover-dress is soaked completely through, sticking to her figure like a glove. He hadn't even noticed it's been raining this entire time.

"Hey! Mini golfing got cut short 'cause of the rain." She smiles, pushing her hair out of her face as she looks at him.

He responds with a low grunt, stepping back into the kitchen without a single word. Her peppiness annoys him.

"Did you bake something?" She continues, sauntering into the kitchen. "Smells fantastic!"

"Chocolate chip cookies," he replies bluntly as he wipes the counter down with a damp towel.

"Can I have one?"

"Sure, do whatever you want." He snaps, tossing the towel into the sink in frustration.

She frowns at him, her shoulders dropping a little at the sight of the slight scowl on his face and the sudden outburst he'd just had. "What's your deal?"

He turns to her. "What's MY deal? My fucking 'deal' is that you were meant to come here to spend time with your best friend and the longest you've spent in the same vicinity with her is when you're sleeping! She came here expecting to find a distraction from the shitty time she's been having at school and you've made it worse for her!"

Deidre stands in shock, the hand that had been reaching for a cookie now fallen limp at her side.

"She's in bed resting right now because she had a panic attack on the kitchen floor not even an hour ago-"

"That's not my fucking fault!" She interrupts him, throwing her arms out expressively.

"Maybe not, but you're not doing anything to help her! You knew she was having a hard time at school and invited her here as a distraction, yet you left her to spend two weeks all by herself! If I hadn't have come along, she'd have been left on her own or forced to join you on your little escapades without a single choice." He huffs, yanking the strings of his apron to untie them from each other before pulling it over his head and hurling it to the ground.

“You know, I asked her every time I went out if she wanted to come with me,” Deidre grumbles, shaking her head, “but she turned me down every single time.”

“Yeah, y’know why she turned you down?” Harry immediately retorts with a growl. “Because she didn’t want to spend time with a couple of random blokes that you know far better than she does!”

She snaps her mouth shut, a deep scowl etched across her brow as she stands in front of him.

"You have no regard for anyone else besides yourself and I am not going to let you ruin this trip for her. So, PLEASE, keep doing exactly what you're doing because I'm positive she's had more time with me than the two of you ever had together!" With that, Harry storms out of the room and into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and leaving Deidre standing speechless in the kitchen.

Unbeknownst to Harry and Deidre, the quarrel wakes you from your slumber in the other room, causing you to become a bit curious and move closer to the door so that you can listen to the lava spewing from both sides. The fight isn’t long, but you hear nearly every word. The way Harry so passionately defends you in the situation, which had initially caused you to feel so unbelievably helpless, gives you a sense of comfort. You know he cares about you, but there’s something so endearing about actually hearing him defend you with so much fervor.

The slamming of Harry’s bedroom door echoes down the hallway, indicating the end of their conversation. You step away from your own door, the backs of your knees hitting the edge of the mattress as you sit. You can hear Deidre walking down the hallway, so to make it seem like you weren’t eavesdropping on their entire conversation, you return to where you were on the bed previously and pretend like you’re asleep.

“Harry?” Your knuckles rap against the wood of his bedroom door gently, careful not to wake Deidre in the other room by knocking too loudly. There’s a brief pause and a shuffling of bed sheets from behind the door before it cracks open, revealing Harry in his sleepy, disheveled state.

“Hi,” He croaks, licking his lips and crossing his arms over his hoodie-clad chest. “Is everything alright?”

You sigh, scratching the back of your head nervously. “Yeah, um- sorry, everything’s fine, I’m just- I’m having some trouble sleeping and- this is stupid, but… could I stay in here with you?” It takes a moment for him to process your words, but once he does he’s nodding and stepping aside to beckon you into his room. “I’m really sorry, I know you were probably sleeping-”

“S’alright, babe, don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head. “Why don’t you go and get comfortable on the bed while I grab us some tea?”

You nod, giving him a small, tired smile as he steps out of the room, leaving the door cracked slightly. You make your way over to his bed, the duvet pulled back along with the sheets, indicating where he’d been lying on the bed moments ago. Your knees land on the soft fabric as you crawl further into the queen sized bed, finding your place on the other side where the duvet is untouched. A warm mixture of chamomile, jasmine, and a hint of cedar wood engulfs you when you lay your head on his pillow. The smell is intoxicating, one whiff could send you into a peaceful, drunken slumber. But, instead of actually falling asleep, you lie there for a few moments, listening to the gentle sounds of the ceiling fan spinning above your head as it lulls you into a quiet reverie.

Soon, Harry is entering the room again, breaking you from your thoughts as you look to find him stepping through the door with two white, porcelain mugs filled to the brim with steaming tea.

“I hope you’re alright with green tea ‘cause that’s all we have,” He murmurs, moving very slowly towards the bed.

“Green tea is perfect, thank you.” You smile, making sure not to burn yourself or spill any of the precious beverage as he crawls onto the bed beside you and places one of the mugs into your welcoming hands. Once the tea is secured, you adjust yourself so that you're sitting against the headboard, body tilted slightly in Harry's direction.

“So,” He starts, blowing on his own tea in an attempt to cool it down faster. “Is there a specific reason why you aren’t able to sleep?”

You take a deep breath, crossing your legs comfortably. “I'm, um, having a bit of anxiety and sleeping with Deidre just isn't helping since she's always making some sort of noise."

“Anxiety?” He frowns, moving his lips away from his tea so that he can be fully attentive to what you're saying. “Are you alright? Do you need me to help with anything?"

“I guess I'm still a bit on edge from earlier, so there isn't much you can do besides just keep me distracted,” you reply, forcing a small smile. "And the tea helps a lot as well."

"I can definitely do that." He smiles, leaning in to peck your lips gingerly. Of course, you welcome the kisses happily, pulling him in for a few more after he pulls away from the first one. He chuckles into your lips, deepening the kiss by tilting his head every so slightly to the side. Your free hand rests against his chest, so you can feel the gentle vibration of his chortle through the fabric of his hoodie and it makes you smile.

“Oh, also-” you continue after you've parted from his lips. “I never properly thanked you for the books you bought for me. I really do not deserve all that, but thank you, really. They will definitely be of good use.”

He smiles and shakes his head, “S’no problem. You seemed so enthralled by each of them and I thought it’d be a shame for you not to go home with at least a few.”

You smile to yourself, glancing down at your tea. "You really didn't need to do that, but, again, thank you." You reach up to gently cup the side of his face, leaning a little bit closer so that you can capture his lips between yours once again. This time, the kisses aren't as innocent. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer to you as his tongue slowly slides against your bottom lip. If it weren't for the steaming mugs of tea in both yours and Harry's hands, it would be so much easier for either of you to take more control of the situation and move into something more than just kissing. You can sense that he wants to do something, and admittedly you do too, but you pull away before anything can happen.

"That isn't the only reason why I came here tonight, though," you speak again as your lips part from his.

He frowns slightly, tilting his head to the side as if to ask: "what's the other reason?"

"I overheard your conversation with Deidre earlier."

His eyes widen. "Oh, fuck- listen, I'm sorry I got kind of carried away. It just made me so angry to see her continuously treat you like that and I- I didn't mean to, like, speak for you-"

"No, Harry, it's okay," You interrupt him before he can continue rambling. "I appreciated it. I probably wouldn't have been able to do it myself, so thank you."

“I really didn't want to make it seem like you can't stand up for yourself, but I know it's just been affecting you so much lately and she needed to be put in her place, even if it made her angry."

"Thank you, really. Usually, Deidre would've been the person to stand up for me for something like that, but lately we just haven't felt as close. Even before this trip. Kinda started to think she just invited me here out of pity... And I honestly wouldn't blame her if she did. " You shrug, staring down into the tea to avoid direct eye contact.

Harry shakes his head. “Don’t think like that-- I’m sure she really did want you to come, but just got distracted by other things. She tends to do that sometimes.”

You shrug wordlessly, keeping your eyes trained to the gently swirling liquid in your cup.

When you look back up at him, you realize how cozy and warm he looks just sitting there in his hoodie and sweatpants, mug of steaming tea sitting at his pink lips. Your tank-top and shorts aren’t doing much to help with the chilled draft wafting throughout the house, so seeing him like that makes you want to crawl into his arms in search of warmth.

He notices the way you’re shivering and moves to set his mug on the bedside table. “Are you cold?”

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah, a little. The anxiety gives me cold flashes.” He quickly tugs his hoodie over his head as soon as the words leave your lips, carefully taking the mug of tea from your hands and placing it on the bedside table before holding the hoodie open for you to slide your arms in easily. Your heart nearly melts at the sentiment, sliding your arms into the sleeves and pulling the piece of clothing over your head. It’s warm, soft and smells just like him, and it immediately gives you a sense of comfort. “Thanks.” You smile.

“S’no problem,” he replies, reaching over for your mug to offer it back to you. You carefully take it from his hands, thanking him before taking another tentative sip. The liquid is still a bit hot, but it has cooled down just enough for you to sip at your own leisure.

“You’re way too sweet to me, Harry,” you sigh, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over your fingers.

“Y’know, I don’t think I am,” he shakes his head, moving closer to you on the creaky mattress. “Think I should be sweeter, show you how much you deserve it.”

You scoff quietly, looking away from him to hide your flustered expression. “Oh, shut up.”

He falls silent, the only sound that can be heard being the shuffling of the sheets and creaking of the mattress as he moves closer to you again. And then you feel it: his lips pressed to your shoulder through the thick material of his hoodie. It’s soft but it’s there and as soon as you turn your head to look at him, he pulls away, staring directly into your eyes with an almost unreadable expression.

“You deserve so much more than what you think you deserve. I wish I could show you that.”

You maintain eye contact with him, breath caught in your throat. You’re rendered speechless at the depth of his words, forced to take slow, deep breaths to calm the pounding of your heart as he inches closer. You open your mouth to respond, but you’re unable to speak a single word other than the faint murmur of his name.

His hand finds both of yours as they clutch the warm mug of tea, (tighter than you’d initially intended due to the tension clouding your brain) carefully prying it from your fingers before placing it on the bedside table. You angle your body towards him, taking his face in your hands before moving forward to plant your lips against his. He immediately returns the kiss in a slightly more fervent manner, pushing you to fall back against the pillows as he cages you in with his arms.

Despite the unexpected escalation of what began as an innocent conversation, Harry begins kissing you slowly, his tongue laving over your bottom lip and into your mouth. You allow his body to move between your legs as he kisses you, your hands holding desperately onto the nape of his neck and curve of his jaw.

“Wanna show you,” He mutters between hot, wet kisses. “Can I do that?” His face hovers over yours for a moment, waiting for you to say something.

“Yeah- yes, please.” You breathe, reaching up to place your hand on the back of his neck and pull his lips back into yours.

Immediately, Harry’s fingers curl into the waistband of your shorts, helping you tug them down your bare legs and toss them to the side before he lets his hands glide down your legs from your thighs to your calves, reveling in the softness of your skin. He pulls his lips away from yours, staring down into your eyes as his hand falls between your legs, fingers slowly finding your clit over your warm, damp panties.

You hadn’t planned any of this so, of course, so your panties are nothing special, but when Harry lets his head fall down to look at where his fingers meet your sex, a shaky sigh leaves his pink lips. It sounds as if he’s in pain just from the sight of you and he hasn’t even taken your panties off yet.

His lips fall to your neck, pressing hot, wet kisses along each side before trailing down the front of your hoodie clad chest. Once he reaches your lower region, his arms hook beneath your legs, slinging them over his shoulders as he moves to lie on his stomach between them. His hot breath washes over your clothed cunt, causing your legs to quiver around his shoulders at the sensitivity and you suck in a breath to hold back a gasp.

He starts slowly as he peels the soft cotton of your panties from your skin, dragging them ever so slowly down your legs before nudging them aside on the bed. You’re finding it increasingly difficult not to squirm beneath his scorching gaze, but with his arms locked tight around your thighs, your movements are clearly limited.

Harry begins to press gentle, open-mouthed kisses to the supple skin of your inner thighs, nipping lightly between each kiss. Much to your dismay, he pulls away, his knees still planted on the mattress between your legs as he scoops his luscious hair into his hands and pulls it back into a quick, messy bun. You lie there watching him, chest heaving with your labored breaths and he smirks.

“Haven’t even started and you’re already out of breath,” he drops back down to hover over your body and you're left to cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, feeling the heat radiating from your skin to your palms. His long fingers circle your wrists, gently tugging your hands away from your face so that he can plant another firm kiss to your lips. "You sure you wanna keep going?"

He stares down at you with a cautious and gentle look in his eyes as he waits for you to respond. His need for consent is comforting and you can tell he really cares. "I'm positive. Please, keep going."

Content with your response, Harry smiles, pecking your lips one last time before crawling back down your body and slinging your legs back over his shoulders just like they were just moments ago. Since he'd removed your panties, there's no barrier between his lips and your glistening sex, his warm breath washing over your sensitive skin and causing your thighs to quiver ever so slightly.

"Ready?" He asks quietly, virescent eyes meeting yours through thick, brown lashes.

His purposeful prolonging has caused you to grow a little impatient, so you huff a frustrated "please," to him in hopes of speeding up the process. He chuckles a little, but finally brings his mouth to your hot skin, tongue peaking out from between his lips to slowly drag against your clit. A shaky breath escapes your lips at the initial contact, and then he presses forward, wrapping his pink, swollen lips around your sensitive button, sucking gently and it causes a much louder moan to tumble from your mouth. Your hand falls to his head, fingers pushing into the hair that was once pulled tight against his head by the messy bun. He lifts his head slightly at the sound of your moan, bringing a finger to his glistening lips as he gazes up at you, mischievous glint behind his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry." You whisper breathlessly and he shakes his head, shoulders shaking with his slight laughter.

His mouth finally returns to your lips, eyes trained to yours to ensure that you don't make any more loud noises before he delves back in, fully devoting himself to your pleasure. Your lip slips between your teeth in a feeble attempt to contain the breathless whimpers and moans itching to spill from your mouth and your hand continues to press into his hair. The pleasure you feel from just his lips and tongue is undeniably amazing. It's obvious the man doesn't shy away when it comes to foreplay and that only eggs on your aroused state.

Languid strokes of Harry's tongue gradually turn into quick, firm flicks that cause your thighs to quiver with pleasure as you clamp your own hand over your mouth to muffle your involuntary noises. He hums against you purposefully so that the vibrations double the work of his tongue and lips into a delicious harmony of blissful ecstasy and your back arches from the sweat-damp sheets beneath you. Your skin is clammy and hot from the heat being emitted from your body, yet the uncomfortable, tacky feeling of it is the last thing on your mind. His mouth is a drug and you're an addict, beseeching for the next dose.

Muffled moans and the sound of his swollen lips colliding with your dripping folds fills the small bedroom and it only makes Harry move faster, desperate to have your release glistening against his chin and upper lip as he gazes down at your heaving body. He wants you to fall apart; he craves to watch you find that burning release within the pit of your stomach and melt into the sheets from the pleasure of it. If only you knew how many times he dreamt of having you in this exact position, nearly sobbing from the work of his skilled mouth.

"Thought about this so many times-" he pulls away, allowing his thumb to take the place of his lips and rub gentle circles against your throbbing clit. "Taste better than I could've ever imagined. Just wish I could really hear you."

His drawled words and the lack of warmth directly against your cunt draws you to look down at him breathlessly, unable to muster a response to his confession. He chuckles at that, not expecting a response before he returns to the task at hand. By now, you're teetering over the edge, aimlessly grasping for a pillow to press over your face in an attempt to silence the growing sounds that emit from the back of your throat. Finally, you find yourself toppling over the notorious edge, the pillow that's pressed firmly against your face throughout the entirety of your orgasm doing its job in muffling your noises.

Harry watches you pulse and shiver helplessly for just a few moments before his hands are pulling the pillow from your face and tossing it above your head so that he can kiss you again. His lips and tongue taste of you as he explores the depths of your mouth and your heart continues to pound against your chest with your labored breaths.

He pulls away from your face after a moment, smiling as he tilts his head to the side. "How was that?"

"That was-" a puff of air leaves your lips, "that was good."

"Just good?" He frowns, pecking his lips down the column of your neck.

“I- fuck, Harry I don’t even know what to say, it was amazing.” You laugh breathlessly, tucking your fingers into his hair.

“Amazing, hm?” He smirks. “Would you say it was five out of five stars?”

A broken laugh leaves your lips again. “Yeah, I’d say it was five out of five.” Heat thunders across your face as you breathe another flustered giggle and he chuckles along with you, leaning forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. He presses a few soft, wet kisses to your skin and exhales, his warm breath causing goosebumps to bloom there. His ego has inflated quite a bit from your confession, but that doesn't hinder his desires to make you as comfortable and satisfied as possible.

“Do you need some water, or maybe a snack?”

You push yourself up onto your arms, frowning at him. “What about you?” It’s almost unbelievable to you that after he worked so tirelessly to make you come, his first thought is to ask you if you need anything more, as if he hasn’t already done enough for you.

He rolls over onto his back beside you, staring up at you. “What about me?”

You briefly glance down his body, noticing the visible tent in his sweatpants. “Can I do something for you?”

“If you want to,” he shrugs, trying in vain not to show his agony. He’s obviously uncomfortable. “But I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do anything.”

You nearly roll your eyes at his unwavering chivalry, wordlessly lifting yourself up and slinging your leg over his hips to straddle him. “I want to.”

At that, Harry lifts himself up off of the bed and wraps an arm around your waist to press you into him, that small bit of friction alone causing a low whimper to slip past your lips. His mouth finds yours, fervently pulling kisses from your lips as he guides your hips against his own. You’ve imagined this scenario so many times, yet the feeling of your own fingers frantically coaxing you to release is nothing compared to the feeling of Harry’s warm body beneath you.

Even through the fabric of his sweatpants, you can feel how thick he is and it only makes you want to move faster. His lips have attached themselves to the spot between your jaw and neck, skillfully biting and sucking at the skin as your hips gyrate against his. You can already feel the burning sensation growing between your legs due to how sensitive you are from your previous orgasm, and Harry seems to be reaching his own climax as well. He’s clawing at your hips and ass, desperate to have you as close to him as possible as low grunts fall from his lips.

It doesn’t take long for you to find your release, choking out Harry’s name as your fingers tug and yank at his now lopsided bun. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, continuously swiveling your hips against his as he chases his own impending orgasm.

“Shit!” He groans a little too loudly as he comes, but you’re quick to shush him, slapping your palm over his mouth while your hips work him through his climax. Your thighs are burning and beads of sweat break out along every inch of your skin, but the satisfaction of knowing you’re working him down to his very last drop is enough to keep you going until neither you, nor him can take it anymore.

Once you finally fall limp against his body, he musters enough strength to roll you onto your back, pressing a few chaste kisses along your jawline.

“Was it five out of five?” You breathe, keeping your eyes shut as you lean your head back against the pillow.

“Hm?” He hums, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Would you rate my skills five out of five?”

“Oh, definitely.” He chuckles breathlessly.

feedback is always welcome and don’t forget to reblog!!

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aonesteddybear · 4 years

Text

Thighs

bokuto koutarou had sinful thighs. really, they should be illegal with how thick they were, and watching them flex under his shorts every time he played was a bit unfair. behind closed doors, you weren’t shy how much you loved them either.

bokuto koutarou x female reader

warnings: e for explicit, 18+, thigh riding, locker room sex

word count: 962

notes: no beta on this one. anyways, i saw this art of bo and his thighs were...delicious so i had to simp a little

Bokuto Koutarou had sinful thighs. Really, they should be illegal with how thick they were, and watching them flex under his shorts every time he played was a bit unfair. Behind closed doors, you weren’t shy how much you loved them either. Often leaving soft hickeys that would remain covered during games, and caused him to be the center of attention in the locker room with teasing comments from the other players.

Yet after another game of watching them flex and his shorts strain to not rip you had found yourself getting wet at the very idea of his thighs. Which is exactly why you had snuck into the locker room once the game had ended, and the other members had left.

He had welcomed you without a second thought as you watched him finish get dressed, but before he could pull up anything other than his boxers you were pushing him down onto the bench, straddling his leg as you pressed kisses to his face congratulating him on his win. Which is exactly where you were now.

Your kisses leading a path down his jaw, his hands finding purchase on your ass, which was barely covered now with your skirt attempting to cover it as you straddled his thigh. His hands kneaded at your ass in appreciation even as you move further south on his body down to his shoulder.

Your teeth sink into clean skin, a soft hiss escaping from your partner’s mouth as his hands grip tighter at your skin. His head lolling to the side, allowing you access to his throat where you suck and nip a path of marks up his neck. Underneath you his thigh flexes as his hands push further into your ass before moving to grab at your hips.

A shaky sigh escapes from his mouth then as your hips give a cautious roll, testing his reaction as you press your core into it.

“Whatcha doin?” He questions, fingers twitching at your side even as you hold them down preventing him from undressing you.

“Your thighs are fucking magnificent.” You purr out in response, and his swallow is audible with your head pressed into his neck.

“Oh.”

“Oh.” You echo, hips rolling again seeking out friction and this time his hands guide you.

“Does it feel good?” He mummers to you, and you nod this time. Eyes fluttering shut as you let him move your hips in a steady rhythm, the friction of his muscles and your underwear pressing against your clit in a delicious manner that has you softly panting.

You can feel your wetness, the fabric sticking to your cunt as you continue to grind against his thigh.

You feel him flex against you again, a startled gasp leaving your throat at the new friction as you buck your hips into it.

“Kou!”

His name is a cry, one of bliss as he pushes you into his leg. “You’re so wet.” He teases, voice light and when you open your eyes he’s staring into you, pupils blown as he rocks you on him. “I can feel you.”

His words make you shiver, gripping his shirt tighter as you push into him with a new sense of purpose, wanting to hear him continue talking. “You’re so desperate, couldn’t even wait ‘till we got home.”

His voice is slurred, thick with his own lust as he watches you get off on his body. You can feel his own pulsing cock underneath your leg, but when you attempt to reach for it, he slaps your hand away with a soft hum, and a promise of “It’s fine, we’ll deal with it later.”

A quick glance down at his leg showed just how aroused you were though, his leg shiny with your juices as you continue to rock your hips on shaky legs. Anytime your pace faltered, his hands were pushing once again forcing you to continue with the motion that has you seeing stars.

“You’re doing so good baby. So well for me, are you going to cum on my thigh? Not even with my hands or mouth touching your cunt?” His voice is playful, obviously enjoying the fact you were so entranced by his thighs.

Still your answer was a whimper of his name. A soft beg of “Koutarou, please.” as you clutched at him, burying your face into his shoulder with a shaky breath.

He hummed in response, fingers rubbing against you skin as he pulled you back. “I wanna see.” He whispered into your ear and you looked up at him in confusion, and he grinned. “I want to see you cum on my thigh.”

You let out a soft sob at that, body seizing as your toes curled, his own arms working your hips through your orgasm as you babbled nonsense to him about how good he made you feel.

His eyes bore into your soul, staring at you with such a lovely look it made your heart flutter even as you pushed at him in objection for the overstimulation you were feeling.

“Fuck baby girl. That was the hottest thing I’ve seen you do.” He mused and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment at the compliment as he licked at his lips before he was moving you to really straddle his hips, the bulge of his cock pressing up into you needly as he rolled his own hips up into you.

You could feel the twitching of his cock even through the layers of fabric, and when you looked up at him he just beamed, his hand moving down in between the two of you to push your panties to the side and wiggle his own cock out.

“Now, it’s my turn to use you to get off.”

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: Ask Questions, Throw Shield Later.

Intro: Steve and Katie have an unwelcome late night visitor…

Warnings: “Language!” Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

W/C: 1.9k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: The first of two (yes, two) special 29th May Birthday One shots. Happy Birthday Tony! Man, I missed writing for these guys in this timeline! This fits into SSB within “I Told You I Said Yes”.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“Fuck, Steve...” Katie groaned, her head tilting backwards as Steve gave another deep thrust upwards, “right there... Jesus.”

“Good?” Steve panted as his hands grabbed her waist, finger tips digging into the flesh that covered her hipbones.

She nodded, grinding on him faster, his hands pulling her down making sure he hit as deep as he could.

Their soft, intimate sounds filled the room and, wanting to be as close to her as he could get, Steve sat up drawing a gasp from Katie as he did so. His hands moved to her back. One splayed half way up her spine, the other cupped the back of her head. His fingers tangled in her long, silky hair as he pulled her face to his. He kissed her, hard, his tongue dominating hers as he swallowed her moan, one that rumbled in her throat as if it came from the depths of her belly.

They’d already danced this tango once already that night. After a few beers with the team in anticipation of Tony’s birthday (minus Natasha as she was still on something Fury was running), they’d retired and gotten a little frisky some two hours prior. But then Steve had woken, his super sharp hearing alerting himself to some form of ransom noise deep in the floors below them and, well, he couldn’t get back to sleep. So he’d hugged Katie close.

Too close.

As ever he was unable to control his reactions to his girl and had ended up with a boner. Meaning she’d woken with him basically rutting up against her back, feigning innocence when she’d given him a grumble at the fact he’d dragged her from her slumber.

She hadn’t been grumbling for long.

“Stevie... I’m gonna...” Katie’s forehead pressed into his, her mouth open as her lips hovered over his, and he thrust upwards again, his nose brushing hers softly, like the touch of a butterfly.

“Let go. Doll,” he panted, actively fighting his own high, “cum for me.”

Her chest heaved, pert nipples brushing his bare skin and her movements stuttered. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, which cracked into a half grunt, half moan as she felt herself go, her body positively floating from her high.

By the time she came round, Steve had also finished, his broad shoulders rising and falling as he gathered his breath. Katie collapsed forward with a soft chuckle, her forehead pressing into his collar bone as he fell backwards, taking her with him.

They lay still for a moment, the only sounds being their heavy breathing and the soft rustle of sheets as Steve pulled the bedding up around them. The smooth cotton brushing over her sensitive skin made Katie shudder a little. Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, his large hands running up and down her spine.

“Am I forgiven for waking you up?” He asked and she shrugged, not even bothering to try and find the strength to sit up. “It’s three AM. I’ll think about it.”

Steve chuckled and she sat up slightly, leaning down to give him a slow kiss.

“Love you.” she pulled back a little, her eyes shining in the dim light, and Steve smiled.

“Love you too.”

Fifteen minutes later they were both settled down and on the verge of sleep once more when a loud crashing in the apartment made them both sit bolt upright.

“What the...” Steve was out of bed in a flash, wrenching the door to their room open.

Katie was seconds behind him, stopping only to grab Steve’s shirt from the chair at the vanity. As she shrugged it on, she ran into the hallway and heard a familiar metallic whoosh. There was the squealing of metal on metal and Katie flicked on the light just in time to see a flash of blue, red and white as Steve’s shield flew back to his hand. He looked over to Katie as she stepped towards him, her mouth falling.

“Is that...” she glanced down at what looked like a version of one of Tony’s suits. It lay motionless on the floor in two pieces, Steve’s shield having severed it at the waist. The failing electrics sparked as the various boards and cogs died, before it fell silent.

Steve nudged it with his foot. It didn’t move. He turned to Katie, a frown on his handsome face.

“Did he tell you he was making them autonomous?”

“That’s nothing new, JARVIS has always been able to control them remotely.” Katie shook her head as she crouched down, her hand gently touching the helmet. She tried to move the face plate but it didn’t open. Rapping her knuckles on the skull, she was met with a solid sound, not the usual hollow echo. “JARVIS?”

There was no reply.

“Why isn’t he answering?” Steve looked at her.

“Tony might have him down.” Katie answered. “He runs the updates at night some times. I do know one thing though.”

“What?” Steve asked as she stood up.

“That couldn’t have gotten in here without Tony letting it in one way or another.” She glanced at Steve, her pretty face full of annoyance. “Imma kill him, fucking idiot.”

She turned to leave and Steve gently caught her arm. “Honey...”

“Seriously? You want me to let this go?”

“Hell, no.” He shook his head, “I want you to wait for me to put some clothes on.”

Despite herself, Katie grinned as her eyes scanned Steve’s naked body, his shield still on his arm. He rolled his eyes and nodded to the suit on the floor, “I’m going to give him his property back, along with a piece of my mind.” **** Tony spun round, his brow arching as Steve and Katie walked into the lab. But whatever smart quip he had been about to come out with died as he spotted what was slung over the super soldier’s broad shoulders. With a loud slam, Steve threw the two parts of the robot down on the desk.

“What did you do to it?” Tony moaned.

“Threw my shield at it.” Steve folded his arms over his chest, the sleeves of the white ribbed Tee he had shrugged on straining over his thick biceps.

Tony was that distracted by his destroyed robot that he failed to notice Katie stomping towards him. She drew her right fist back and punched him hard on the shoulder.

“Ow, Kiddo!”

“You dick!” She yelled. “What the hell were you doing sending that into our apartment?”

“Wanted to test your reaction to it.” Tony shrugged. “See how it came across.”

“How it ca- Tony, it’s half past 3 in the morning!” She shrieked.

“Exactly.” Tony scratched his beard. “Total element of surprise. I thought you guys would give me a base of how people would react to them. Can’t have been that well if Spangles felt the need to cut it in half with his frisbee.”

“We had no idea what or who it was.” Steve felt his anger beginning to rise, “what was I supposed to do?”

“I’ve told you before, big guy. Ask questions, throw shield later.” Tony shrugged, “I can’t believe you killed Iron Kid.”

“Iron Kid?” Katie blinked.

“Yeah, the name’s a working progress.”

“Tony, what is it?” Steve pressed.

“It’s a prototype.” Tony informed them. “I had the idea last week. The Avengers exploded after New York. You should see the piles of fan mail that the guys downstairs sort each day.”

“Less bragging, more explaining.” Katie narrowed her eyes.

“The point is, we attract attention. So I had a thought about something that could help keep the public at bay,” Tony gestured to the pile of metal, “we can use them to issue instructions, help aid the emergency services. Keep civilians out of the way.”

Katie and Steve looked at one another, and Steve hated to admit it but the idea made sense.

Sorta.

“Clearly I need to rethink a little.” Tony mused. “I mean if they freaked you out then...” “It freaked us out because it was in. our. apartment!” Katie groaned. “In the middle of the night.”

“That’s the point, it was supposed to have the element of surprise, wake you up.”

“Well there’s your first fuck up!” She hissed. “We were already awake-“

“Why?” Tony frowned

“Because we just finished a great, sweaty sex session.” She shot back and Steve groaned, feeling the heat in his neck as he looked down, his bare toes flexing against the cool floor of the lab. “And you wanna be grateful we had finished because if we hadn’t I’d be really, really mad. You get me?”

“That’s.. disgusting.” Tony wrinkled his nose.

“And you’re an asshole.” Katie shot back.

With a shudder, Tony moved and picked up a screwdriver. He turned the helmet up aside down and opened a small hatch at the back. Stooping slightly, he prodded and poked at something inside.

“Huh, least the main board wasn’t damaged.” He straightened up and turned to face them both. “So, other than scaring the shit out of you what was it like? Voice interface okay? Too much me or not enough me or-“

“There was no voice interface.” Steve replied.

“What?” Tony frowned, “JARVIS was supposed to be controlling it. It should have told you why it was there and-“

“Well he didn’t.” Steve rolled his eyes, his already stretched patience wearing dangerously thin.

“He didn’t...huh?” Tony frowned and Katie moved past him to a computer.

“Oh for the... he’s on mute you dumbass!” She tapped a few buttons and JARVIS’ voice rang out.

“Thank you Miss Stark.”

“Shit.” Tony gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry, buddy. Forgot I turned you off.”

“Mr Stark, may I suggest you call it a night, Sir? It is rather late and you’ve been awake for almost twenty-one hours. Miss Potts instructed me to ensure you-“ “And that is precisely why I did.” Tony rolled his eyes and Katie let out a growl of annoyance

“I’m done. Come on, Steve.”

She stalked towards the door and Tony looked up. “You not gonna wish me happy birthday?”

In response she raised the middle fingers on both her hands, flipping him off over her shoulders as she stomped out of the door.

Steve watched her go before she turned to Tony. “You know, I think you’re onto something. Keeping civilians away would make things a lot easier.”

“Wouldn’t it?” Tony nodded, eagerly. “We’d need a fleet of them, an Iron Fleet, no that’s... like i said, the names a work in progress.”

“We can discuss this tomorrow. Give it some proper though.” Steve took a deep breath. “Just don’t send any more into the apartment, please?”

Tony saluted him and Steve rolled his eyes. He turned to go before he stopped, and looked back at his friend.

“Happy birthday, pal.”

Tony snorted. “Cheers, Spangles.”

Tony watched Steve walk out of the lab, before he glanced back at the destroyed robot.

“Mr Stark... Miss Potts is awake...”

“Ahh shit.” Tony groaned. “How much trouble am I in?”

“I don’t think a Roman Legion would protect you.” JARVIS replied and Tony stilled, a huge grin spreading across his face.

“Iron Legion.” He tossed the screwdriver up in the air and caught it, chuckling. “JARVIS, you are a genius.”

“Why thank you, sir. And now I really must insist you go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m going. Lock everything down will you? Oh, and order us all breakfast from the diner on the corner of fifth.”

“Of course. The usual?”

“Yeah. Have it delivered about 10:30. Should be enough to calm Kiddo down.”

“Very wise Sir. I’ll ensure there’s extra bacon, just in case.”

“Yeah, who doesn’t love extra bacon?”

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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kaleidoscopeminds · 3 years

Text

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

main works/series:

Ballet fic ‘verse (41.5k, Mature)

Luke's life is perfectly on track. He is about to get everything he's ever wanted, to become a Principal dancer for the Royal Ballet. He's focused, determined and nothing will get in his way. Then he meets Calum, a smooth-tongued barman with dangerous eyes, and suddenly not everything's so simple.

dream makes the sounds (that carry me so far away) (36.5k, Mature)

Luke's just got to California, on a trip to get away from his life for a while. Calum might be there for the same reason. When a chance meeting pushes them together, Luke might get more out of the four-week road trip than he ever imagined.

i’m not made by design, how can you be satisfied? (21k, Mature)

It gets to about three p.m. and Calum’s seen so many models at this point he thinks his vision is going a bit blurry; and that’s when the next boy “Luke Hemmings” gets let in. He’s stopped pretending to review the portfolios ahead of time on the iPad in front of him, just looking at the models as they come in and making a note whether it’s worth looking at it afterwards.

He kind of wishes he had looked at Luke's before he walked through the door though because he almost swallows his tongue.

A fashion AU

the flatmate arrangement (20k, Mature)

Hi Calum/Poor Struggling Paralegal, So I’ll be upfront with you. It’s a one-bed flat. I also live here. HOWEVER before you delete this and think I’m a freak, I work nights so I wouldn’t be here anytime you would be. You can have the flat exclusively from 6 pm to 8 am, Saturday night and all day Sunday. Understand this sounds like a bit of a crazy arrangement but I could do with the cash, let me know what you think?

Luke Hemmings (Poor Struggling Children’s Nurse)

A 'The Flatshare' AU

talk to me, baby (18k, Explicit)

“Is that why you’ve been looking at me all night?” Luke asks, reaching out and brushing a finger over one of the rips in Calum’s jersey. “Trying to get me alone to sell your services?”

Calum looks delighted that Luke has called him out and it makes Luke smile again.

“Not at all,” Calum says, taking a swig from his drink. “But I was trying to get you alone to offer some other services for free. Interested?”

Luke laughs. “Is that an innuendo?”

“Absolutely, but I can be less subtle.” Calum sips his beer, eyeing Luke. “Wanna fuck?”

meet me in the back under exit lights (17k, Mature)

“Mate, you do know what our job is right?” he asks amusedly. “You’re a writer at an indie music magazine. Just in case you hadn’t realised.” Calum rolls his eyes at Ashton.

“I know,” he says grumpily. “But if Alex makes me interview another one of these boring-as-fuck sad boy singer-songwriters I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

The journalist Calum/musician Luke AU no one asked for

Bakery Cake ‘verse (15k, Teen and Up)

“Bye, Luke,” Calum says. “Maybe see you tomorrow, and... Hope you have a great day too.” His face breaks out into a wider smile that reminds Luke of the feeling of getting just the right consistency for macaron batter, or a perfectly smooth finish on a cake, or the way good puff pastry flakes into the perfect fragments when you cut through a mille-feuille. Or something.

A bakery AU

and what if you’d never smiled at me (15k, Teen and Up)

Calum's really not happy about the new bakery that's just opened up down the road from his own bakery; it's gaudy and pastel and covered in flowers and is an offence to the name of baking. At least he's got a new regular to make him feel better about it all. One with a smile that can turn a day around just like that, even on a Tuesday.

in the places that we met (9k, Mature)

“I think I might be being haunted by a ghost,” is how he greets Michael at the pub that Friday.

“A ghost?” Michael responds suspiciously.

“Yeah and he’s personally haunting me and only me,” Luke says, pulling himself into a booth.

“Sounds frightening,” Michael says mildly.

“He’s also really fit,” Luke says, taking a sip of the pint Michael’s provided him with. “I saw him at the gym today.”

“Sounds sexy and frightening,” Michael says.

you wanna be closer (5k, Teen and Up)

Five times Luke and Calum touch platonically, and once when Calum realises maybe it was never platonic at all.

we're just friends (4k)

“I want to kiss you,” Calum says, voice not above a murmur. Luke’s heart stutters and a blush fills his face as it works overtime pushing his hot blood around his body.

“We shouldn’t,” Luke starts as his hand comes up to grip Calum’s wrist. “We’re friends, we’re just friends.”

drabbles and prompts:

i think i'm getting stuck, i think i'm getting hooked on you (2k, Teen and Up)

it's just a spark, but it's enough (2k, Teen and Up)

main works/series

in a world of black and white (12k, Teen and Up)

“Hey,” Luke says, as close to Ashton’s ear as he can get. Ashton’s head snaps up immediately and his hazel eyes behind his tortoiseshell glasses flick towards him, wide in surprise. Ashton’s eyes are a conundrum to Luke, sometimes gleaming warm amber with flecks of deeper mahogany, sometimes sparkling emerald and viridescent, and sometimes somewhere between the two, glinting and swirling with a golden green. Luke could spend weeks trying to solve the enigma of Ashton’s eyes, and thinks that he might be happy to.

if you dance with me darling, if you take me home... will we talk in the morning? (4k, Teen and Up)

Luke is drunk, but nicely so, he thinks, everything slightly softer around the edges, lights a little brighter and laughs a little louder. Everyone and everything in the world would be slightly better if they were this level of tipsy all the time, he muses to himself as he waits for his drinks, leaning his chin in his hand on the bar where he’s wedged himself between two other people that were definitely waiting before him, but don’t have Luke’s height or smile.

put on your dancing shoes, there’s one thing on your mind (2k, Teen and Up)

Luke squeaks and grabs Ashton’s wrist, bouncing on his toes as excitement flows through him, his heart rate picking up as he feels the crowd shift and pulse with anticipation, voices of enthusiasm and shouts beginning to ripple across the sea of people. The lights begin to flash and Luke can feel the energy thrum through the air.

sad luke ‘verse (2k)

Luke flexes his fingers around his glass and tips his head back to look at the ceiling, letting the lights flash around him, burning his eyes as he forces himself to keep them open, but he still feels like they’re not as bright as he wants them to be, not bright enough to sting as much as he yearns for them to.

Will someone tell me who I was before? (500, Teen and Up)

When I close my eyes and try to sleep I fall apart, I find it hard to breathe (500, Teen and Up)

Looking on, as all of life's colours seem to fade (1k, Teen and Up)

drabbles and prompts:

you light up my whole heart, it feels like the sun (1k, Teen and Up)

i don't wanna be wasting my time alone (2k, General Audiences)

pressed against the wall just watching your every move (1.5k, General Audiences

misc works and drabbles

fingertips on me, i can feel them still - malum (2k, Teen and Up))

The lady on the phone had offered him a new guy, and even though he was wary, he knew he couldn’t put off getting his hair cut any longer. That didn’t account for the new guy being the fucking prettiest man he’s ever set eyes upon, mask and all, and if Calum didn’t want to take his hat off before, he definitely doesn’t now.

some invisible string tying you to me - ot4 (1.5k)

That’s the thing about the four of them, they say they can’t really pinpoint exactly how it happened. How it became the four of them in every single iteration of the words, wrapped and tied together securely, looping in and out and around them all.

misc tumblr prompt ficlets

#masterlist #5sosfanfic #5sosfanfiction #i did one finally!#babes i've written so many words and for what #fic #fic talk #meg fic

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scarletdawnxx-blog · 3 years

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Nightmares: A Bucky Barnes x Reader Story. Chapter 5.

A date.

With Bucky Barnes.

You stared at yourself in the mirror wondering if this was the best thing or worst thing you could be doing right now. Of course, you liked Bucky, how could you not, he was handsome and kind, and when he smiled, it made your heart leap. But you were getting ready to leave, you didn’t know if or when you may come back. You looked around your half-packed room, boxes here, organized piles there, you stared at the end of your bed, where not long ago you held Bucky in a long hug after he agreed to let you try and get Hydra out of his mind. A sadness seeped into your bones. This had been your home for the last two years, where you had built friendships, where you had found a sense of belonging and purpose, where perhaps feelings were starting to blossom and now once again your whole life was changing.

Shaking the feeling off you turned to the mirror once more giving yourself a final once over. You felt confident in your choices and even beautiful, when a knock came at your door. Taking a deep breath, you opened to see Bucky standing there. He was wearing dark jeans and a plain black shirt with a leather jacket. He was holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, which surprised you because you had never told him.

“They are lovely,” you said as he offered them to you with a smile. “How did you know these were my favorite?” You asked him, inhaling their scent.

“That is a secret for me to have.” He replied coyly.

“You asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn’t you?” you asked with a laugh.

“No,” he said, trying to seem serious but a grin started to spread across his face and you couldn’t help but smile up at him. “You ready to go?” he asked and you nodded, setting the flowers on your nightstand. You started to make your way to the door but Bucky stopped you. “You may want to grab a jacket.” You looked at him a little confused. It wasn’t really cold enough yet for a jacket. “Just trust me.”

He said and you grabbed the jacket that was laying on your bed waiting to be packed. He took you hand in his and the warmth was felt through your whole body making you suck in a breath. You walked with him quietly to the garage when he dropped your hand and got on to a motorcycle and offered you a helmet as he put one on as well as some gloves. The jacket made more sense now. But you had never been on a motorcycle before. The thought equally scared and excited you. You must have paused for longer than you thought because Bucky now looked worried.

“Is this ok?” he asked tentatively.

“More than ok,” you said, taking the helmet from him. “I just have never been on one of these before.” You admitted stepping closer.

“Don’t worry Y/N, you are more than safe with me.” And you knew that was true. You would always be safe with him. He took the helmet back from you and placed it on your head securing the strap under your chin and your heart started beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. You placed a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you swung a leg over the bike and settled in behind him. He reached behind himself and took your hands wrapping them tightly around his waist. “Hold on to me tightly and move in a little closer.” He said starting the bike, the rumble moving through your whole body. You did as he said and he took off, a small scream of surprise erupted from you turning into a laugh. It was exhilarating. The wind on your face, the closeness of Bucky and how his body felt pressed so close to yours, the sound of the engine, there was a freedom in this that you liked. After a short while the tree lined country road gave way to bigger city streets, you must have been heading into Albany. The closest big city near the compound. There were days when you missed the hustle and bustle of the city. Especially New York City, all the tall gleaming buildings, the artists in the streets, the museums, but you didn’t miss how being around all of that life had exhausted you. You had needed the peace the compound in upstate gave you.

You finally arrived at your destination and he just kept surprising you.

“Mini golf?” you asked surprised and he just smiled at you. You never could have pictured him, all super soldier and vibranium arm, holding the tiny gold club, trying to tap a ball past a turning windmill.

“Unless you are hungry, we can do dinner first.” He said and motioned to the small pizza place across the street. You got off the bike and undid the helmet, shaking your head a little, really hoping you didn’t have awful helmet hair. He turned the bike off and removed his helmet looking still put together, how was that possible, you mused to yourself.

“No, I would love to defeat you in battle before a victory meal.” You teased him and he laughed getting off the bike.

“Those are some pretty confident words Y/N.” His hand ran down your arm sending a shiver down your spine. He was trying to distract you, and you had to admit it was kind of working.

“Wanna make this interesting Barnes?” you asked.

“I’m intrigued,” he responded leaning back against the bike looking too damn hot for a person to legally be allowed.

“I win and you have to try and steal one of Stark's suits, and I’m not talking about the tailored ones in his closet.” You said crossing your arms. You knew the fail safes Tony had installed around his suits and couldn’t help but find the idea of Bucky tripping them to be hilarious.

“And if I win?” he asked in a low voice.

“That’s up to you.” You told him, holding his gaze.

“You let me teach you how to ride a motorcycle.” He said after taking a moment to think about it. How could he do that if you were leaving? “When you have free time at the school, you won’t be that far,” he added. “Not that I wouldn’t enjoy more rides shared with you, but I think you would really love being in control and doing it yourself.” He wasn’t wrong, the idea of being in control and taking off all by yourself, seemed exhilarating, powerful.

“You got yourself a deal.” You said and extended your hand. Bucky took it and sealed the deal with a shake and a smile, one that reached all the way to his eyes and made the little lines around them crinkle. He was happy, and you could tell without needing to use your ability.

You were right in how Bucky would look playing mini golf but it was the most endearing thing you may have ever seen. The two of you lightly joked and teased each other. You could tell he was still nervous and would catch the occasional looks or whispers from onlookers. While the public didn’t know who you were, Bucky’s face had been all over news programs and magazines.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable in the jacket and gloves?” you asked him as you waited for the next hole to open up. He just shrugged it off and flexed his vibranium hand in the glove. He had to be at least a little too warm. It wasn’t exactly hot out but it was not cool enough to wear the jacket and gloves. “Is it because you are worried people will see the arm and only think of the wrong you did?” You asked him and he stared at you for a minute. You set your things down and took his left hand in yours and removed the glove, you tucked it into one of the pockets of his jacket and did the same for his right hand.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” you said, lacing your fingers through his left hand. “Can you feel that?” you asked, never really knowing if he could still really feel with his vibranium arm. He looked down at your interlaced fingers and the sadness on his face was almost too much. Had this all been a terrible idea, did you cross a line?

“Yes and no, I can feel the pressure of your hand, I know it's there, but it doesn’t feel like this,” he said and took your other hand in his. His skin was overly warm from the gloves and almost felt like a burn compared to the coolness of the metal, the two opposing sensations crashed around inside of you, and you found yourself moving closer to him, your chest meeting as you breathed. “Here I can feel how warm your skin is, how soft,” he said in a whisper. You looked up at him and couldn’t help when your eyes fell to his lips, how you wanted to just reach up and kiss him, and before you knew it you found your body moving in that direction, you sensed his body was too. That was until the people behind you pulled you from your thoughts with a shout as someone behind you had scored a hole in one. You kept from groaning in disappointment as you stepped back, dropping both of his hands and picking your things up.

You returned to the game but the lingering tension was there now. You wanted to reach out and sense what he was feeling, but it seemed dishonest. When you finally arrived at the last hole you went first and sank the final shot one under par. It had been a tight game the whole way but Bucky would have to sink a hole in one to win. Which he had failed to do the whole evening.

“So which suit are you gonna try and take?” you asked as you waited for Bucky to line up his shot.

“You haven’t won yet Y/N,” he teased back with a smirk on his face. He gently tapped the ball, and you couldn’t believe it, but sank it in one shot.

“No!” you said faking disappointment. He laughed and had a smug look on his face. You weren’t sad in the least. He had given you a reason to spend more time together, time outside of training, or hunting Hydra, time outside of the team, time outside of the Winter Soldier and an Avengers Operative. Just two people. “You know even though you technically won the game, I feel like I still came out on the better end of this deal.” You told him as you returned your clubs.

“Is that so?” he asked.

“Yup, I get to learn a new skill, and you have to teach it to me.” You replied and it was true, you felt like this was winning. He smiled and took your hand in his as you walked to the small pizza place across the street.

Over dinner you talked about the usual things, where you grew up, family, your favorite movies and music. And he listened intently, hanging on every word as you excitedly told him about your latest obsessions.

“I’m sorry, I’m talking too much,” you said, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. “No please keep going, I love hearing you talk. Your voice is soothing.” You looked at him oddly. “What?” he asked, leaning on the table to look at you closer.

“I don’t think anyone has ever said something like that to me.” You admitted. He reached over and pushed a hair out of your face and once again you felt yourself being drawn towards him.

“You’ve been on your own for too long,” he said gently. On my own? What did that mean? How could I be on my own surrounded by people all the time, surrounded by the team all the time, you wondered to yourself. You sat back and out of his reach, his words made you feel confused, and you pulled in on yourself. “So, you leave in two days?” he asked, clearing his throat and changing the subject.

“Uh, yeah, early Saturday morning.” You told him putting on that smile you had trained over the years to put people at ease, to say that, nothing was wrong and you were fine. It was utter bullshit. There was a long silent pause. You wanted to reach out with your abilities to know what Bucky was feeling. Would he miss you? Did he feel anything more than friendship for you? You couldn’t help but remember that warm, glowing feeling you had felt while inside his mind and wonder who that feeling belonged to.

“We should probably head back before it gets too dark.” He finally said, breaking the silence. You agreed quietly as you slid out of the booth grabbing your things. Bucky took your hand and smiled gently at you making your heart flutter.

When you arrived back at the compound Bucky walked you back to your room and wished you a goodnight before placing a soft kiss on your cheek and disappearing into the dark hall. Even when you had finally fallen into bed after a little more packing and a shower, the feel of his lips on your cheek lingered, and a smile stayed on your face as you fell into sleep.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #reader insert #marvel #marvel fanfiction #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky barnesxreader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic #iron man #black widow #falcon #y/n

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one-boring-person · 4 years

Text

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned. (Part Eleven)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: gun violence, death, blood, injury

Context: Someone helps (Y/n) out of a sticky situation.

A/N: There is next to no interaction between the reader and the boys in this part, so I apologise, but at least we've got a new character. I hope you all enjoy this!😊💛

Masterlist

The gunshot rings clearly around the parking lot, the sound resonating in the walls, most likely carrying a long way. A cry of pain mingles with it, followed swiftly by a sharp intake of air that chokes off into a gargle as blood fills a wind pipe, a body falling to the floor.

My heart pounds in my ears, breathing coming heavily and unevenly as I open my eyes, my head snapping upright again, confusion rife in my mind. Instantly, I locate the body a few metres from us, blood spilling from a wound in the neck pooling around the limp figure, black-clad SRS Hunters gathering around them to see if there is any chance of revival. In this brief confusion, another gunshot tears the air, a body falling accordingly with a scream of pain, the others becoming more and more disorientated as they begin aiming their weapons around the area, aims unsure as they struggle to locate their targets. Elijah steps away from me to join them, handgun held up at eye level to improve his chances, though his grip is unsteady, clearly shaken.

Suddenly, the gun used to shoot the first two is switched into its automatic mode, bullets pelting the ground around us in a punishing efficiency, hitting more and more of the Hunters, screams soon filling the air as they collapse to their knees, the reek of blood starting to become horribly obvious in the air, the sound most likely drawing unwanted attention to the area. Panicked and confused, I can only watch as my former comrades are shot to pieces with a brutal accuracy, my eyes wide at the sight of them all writhing in agony, my face splattered with their blood, muscles frozen in place as I await the same fate, knowing that I can't move anyway, my knee completely shot out.

To the side, the vampires are forcing themselves to their feet, Dwayne and Paul helping Marko to his feet, shooting me one last look between them before they clear off, running for safety, as they should be. Vaguely, I clock that that will likely be the last time I see them, my mind too preoccupied with the sight of a huge figure emerging from a darkened alley, a smoking assault rifle held in one hand, a shotgun in the other, to care too much about that, terror flooding me.

Pushing myself forwards, I go to stand up, only to yelp in pain as my knee gives out, making me fall onto my face, my hands only just catching me, preventing me from cracking my already bruised head on the pavement, my eyes fixed on the rapidly approaching silhouette, my movements erratic and uncoordinated in my attempts to get away. Breathing heavily, I start to scramble upright, trying to pull myself back and away from the threat, my fingers becoming grazed and shredded from the rough surface beneath them, one of my hands reaching for a gun that has fallen nearby. Stretching out for it, I use all of the strength I can to drag myself closer to it, only to stop when I feel a pair of large hands on my waist flipping me over, grey eyes swiftly finding mine. At the sight of him, I let out a breath, finally taking in his appearance as I relax into his grip.

"Nico!" I gasp out in relief, smiling breathlessly up at the brunette werewolf towering over me.

"(Y/n)." He greets in response, grinning down at me in his usual, crooked way, the muscular man sitting back on his heels. In the harsh light from one streetlamp, his chiselled jaw and prominent brow are emphasised, his grey eyes bright and lively, bulging muscles flexing under his coat as he bends down and picks me up, cradling me bridal-style against his firm chest, the weapons slung over his shoulders as I wrap an arm around his neck. Standing back upright again, the German werewolf carries me away from the wreckage he has created, deftly kicking someone as they make a grab for their gun, sending them flying back from the sheer force of it.

"I didn't think you would actually come." I say to him as we walk, trying to fight off the pain in my body as he slips into the shadows of an alley.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He exclaims, pulling a face of mock offence, "When have I ever left you to fend for yourself?"

"That's not what I meant, Nico, and you know it. I meant that I'm surprised that you came to a town of vampires." I grin, slapping his chest playfully, still a little disorientated after the previous shootout.

"If you can trust them, then I can tolerate them." He shrugs, tightening his grip around me, "I couldn't just let you get killed, and from what I can see, my timing was perfect."

"You've always been one for theatrics." I roll my eyes mockingly.

"I have not! I just know how to make an entrance." He argues back, turning a corner to where a clearly stolen car is waiting, the windows smashed in and the paint scratched and dented.

"That you do." I muse, smiling up at him, glad that my old friend came to my aid.

Nico and I first met when I was on a hunt when I had just graduated into the SRS, a good few years ago now, when I was just sixteen. I was working as an apprentice of sorts, a Cadet as they called it, for one of the crueler sergeants that trained me, and we'd been sent to deal with a coven of necromancers who dealt in human sacrifice. Being the youngest, I wasn't allowed to do much, only wait outside the coven headquarters as the older Hunters went in to deal with the problem, leaving me defenceless and helpless, though I had no idea I was in danger until a knife lodged itself in my lower back, narrowly missing my spinal chord. A necromancer attacked me, nearly killing me until they were interrupted by the sudden onslaught of a snarling wolf the size of a large horse, it's amber eyes blazing in the night as it tore the necromancer to shreds. I remember looking away as their screams died out, only opening my eyes again when I felt a hand on my shoulder, at which point I came face-to-face with a hansome, tall, hugely muscular boy my own age, his grey eyes concerned for me as he offered me his help, knowing that I was injured. At first, I was sceptical, not quite trusting the boy towering over me, every instinct in my body telling me that a werewolf is not the kind of company to keep, but eventually I agreed, but only on the condition that he got dressed again, seeing as he was naked (a person's clothes are destroyed when they transform).

The next time I saw him, he was facing down with a pack of cryptids up on the Canadian border, the werewolf bleeding and injured as he tried to find a way out of the situation. As I was on my first solo hunt, I was able to help, shooting the cryptids as their backs were turned and offering him first aid back at my camp. Finding ourselves in good company with each other, we quickly became friends, often meeting up and helping each other out when necessary, pur friendship remaining a secret for both our sakes, knowing that a revelation of our knowledge of each other could be detrimental to either. As a lone wolf, he often states that he's targeted as an enemy, most werewolves choosing to remain in packs, but I've never met someone who can actually best him. I quickly learnt, however, that his choice of lifestyle was not one he chose: he was born a werewolf in South Germany, on the border between Bavaria and Austria, in the Alps, but was cast out at a young age due to his unnatural body structure and overwhelming strength. He was often on the run, and soon found his way to the west, where he has stayed ever since.

His friendship and trust is the reason I sent him a call for help in the first place.

"What're you thinking about?" The werewolf's voice cuts through my reverie, his eyes boring into me as he carefully starts manouvering me into the car.

"Oh, nothing." I respond, sitting back into my seat as I wait for him to climb into the drivers seat, feeling like I'm ready to pass out.

"You sure?" Nico teases, smirking as he awkwardly folds himself into the seat, starting the car and driving off, heading out of town.

"Very." I yawn, still smiling.

"I'd say you should get some sleep, but I'm not sure how good that will be for you, given that you have been shot." He worries, looking over at me as he pulls onto a deserted street.

"I could really use some, actually. I'm dead on my feet." I admit, stifling another yawn, "I might just risk it."

He hums, whether in disapproval or not is unclear, but says nothing, clearly thinking, for a few seconds.

"I guess I can probably get that sorted whilst you're asleep, but it might be difficult. You wanna risk that?" He offers, turning down another winding, darkened road.

"I think I'll take you up on the offer. Are we leaving town?"

"Yeah, it's for the best."

"Can we stop somewhere first? I need to collect my things."

"Sure, where?"

I look over at him, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"You know where Hudson's Bluff is, overlooking the point?"

Part Twelve

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#santa carla #marko(the lost boys)#star(the lost boys)

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nataliedanovelist · 4 years

Text

GF - How A Star Is Born ch.IV

A Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. I hope y’all like it!

ch.III - ch.V

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

Stan allowed the cool, salt-scented breeze ruffled his clothes as he leaned forward at the window, watching lightning strike the ocean from a far. He and the kid were safe. A gust of wind threatened to kill the fire, so Stan closed the window and turned back to the fireplace, where Dipper sat flexing his hand after wrapping some bandages around his scraped knuckles. He stood up and grinned at his teacher. “I’m ready, what else have you got?”

“Hold it, buddy boy, that’s enough for today.” Stan chuckled and sat in his chair covered in furs, making a comfortable small throne for the king of the house. “Just relax.”

“C’mon, please.” Dipper begged and stood by his side. “This is the best I’ve ever done, let’s see if I can beat my record on the obstacle course or something!”

“Listen, key to being a hero is knowing when to start and when to stop.” Stan said as he leaned back and relaxed. “You might be a demigod, but you still need rest. Just sit back and enjoy the storm happening outside and try to put something in your gut. Soup’s almost ready, anyways.”

Dipper sighed, admitting defeat, and sat on his pillow next to Stan’s big chair. After a year of training with him, though his body still ached from time to time, he was succeeding more than failing recently. It was like he was finally on his way to becoming a true hero. He didn’t want to stop, not when he was so close to being with his family, but he knew better than to push Stan on an argument, and so he watched the fire crackle as he heard the lightning storm outside. “Stanford must be mad.” Dipper said to fill the air.

Stan snorted; Dipper had learned by now that the old guy had a weird hatred for the Ruler of the Gods. Ever since that first introduction Dipper never said another word about Stanford being his potential family, since clearly Stan wasn’t buying it, but every once in a while Dipper would talk to Mabel through the drawings of his journal, and she was always praising him and telling him stories of her and Grunkle Ford. Dipper believed her and decided to just keep his connections to his family to himself.

“Doesn’t take much to make that jerk mad.” Stan muttered and stood up to mix the soup.

Dipper shrugged, thought about his question, and decided to risk it and ask his mentor, “You got something against Stanford?”

“What makes you ask, kiddo?”

Again, Dipper shrugged. “You don’t really bad-mouth the other gods. I mean, I don’t care if you do, but you just seem to have something against one of the most powerful gods despite the possibility he could strike your house and burn it to the ground.”

“Ha! That’d be a new one.” Stan laughed harshly and tasted the soup and shrugged. “Eh, we’ll give it a few minutes. Anyways, I guess the other gods just ain’t worth my bad-mouthing. But if it’ll make you feel better I’ll bad-mouth the others, too, to make it fair.” He joked.

Dipper chuckled and let slip, “I don’t care as long as you leave Mabel out of it.”

“Right, your sister.” Dipper was surprised that Stan had remembered that; he never talked about his sister to him. “You miss her, don’t you, kid?” The old man asked, his back still to his student as he stirred dinner.

Dipper sighed and nodded. “I just wanna be a family again, that’s all.”

Stan finally turned to him and he ruffled the boy’s hair, making his bangs stick up and reveal his birthmark. “You’ll get there. I promise.”

Dipper smiled, flattened his hair again, and said, “Thanks.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Olympus was filled to the brim and busy, the ballroom crowded and loud as the audience waited for the introduction of the Muse in Training. Stanford sat in his throne with Fiddleford by his side, both grinning and excited to see how far their little girl had come. The messenger even had a colorful array of flowers on his lap to give to her when she finished her performance.

“She’s grown up so much.” Stanford said.

“Indeed.” Fiddleford agreed.

The Ruler of the Gods glanced over at his closest friend and asked, “Do you think I’m too hard on her?”

“In what way?”

Stanford shrugged. “She wants to leave Olympus.”

“Not forever, my friend. She just wants t’see the world. Every other god gets t’come n’ go from here, she simply wishes t’as well.” Fiddleford reminded him.

Stanford took in a deep breath, held it, and let it go. “I’m thinking of giving her a curfew.”

Fiddleford blinked in shock and then grinned. “Really?”

“Perhaps… it’ll be good for her to have some time to herself.” Stanford theorized. “If I made it clear that she must be home by sundown, and if I gave her permission to go exploring after her lessons…”

“I think that’s a fair compromise.” Fiddleford said with a nod. “Really, has she done anythang t’prove she couldn’t be trusted?”

Stanford shook her head. “No. She’s the most honest, trustworthy person I know, right next to you and Bill, of course.”

“No offense taken.” Fiddleford chose to ignore Bill’s name drop.

“Then it’s settled.” Stanford sat up straighter. “After her performance, I shall grant her a curfew and allow her to explore the valley below us.”

“I think that’s a good start.” Fiddleford patted his shoulder. “You’re doin’ the right thang.”

Horns rang through the air, glittering smoke filled the air and collected in five groups, and there five beautiful ladies in white dresses stood on the stage, ready to introduce their apprentice. Stanford and Fiddleford applauded for the stunning arrival, along with the other gods, and after a swift show-off of their beautiful voices, the Muses parted ways to make way for the newest among them… but no one came.

A minute of dead, shocked, confused silence was deafening on the mountain, until a booming voice rang through and caused lightning to strike. “MABEL!”

~~~~~~~~~~

“A little more bandages, some grapes for being a good boy, and a kiss to make it feel better.” Mabel kissed the tiny ankle by the black hoof and grinned at the animal by her side, sitting on the soft grass on her knees. “All done! You’re back in action, Waddles.”

The pig stood on all four to do a little trot in place. He oinked happily to find no pain in his leg and he licked Mabel’s cheek in thanks as she scooped him up to hug him. “Aw, you’re welcome.”

A clash of lightning over her head rang out. Mabel’s heart dropped as she looked up the mountain behind her, dark clouds hiding the top. She cringed and sighed. “I missed the concert, didn’t I?”

She knew it was risky to sneak away right before her debut, but she had to! The little piggy was hurt, caught in a branch, and Mabel had freed him yesterday and swiftly returned home, but Waddles still needed to be cleaned up or he could get an infection, so the first chance she got the young goddess slipped away and helped the animal.

Mabel stood up and sighed. No point in trying to hide. As if on cue, Fiddleford could be seen running down the mountain at super speed and relaxed at seeing Mabel in the valley. He ran up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Mabel! Ya know you’re not allowed off Olympus! Stanford’s worried sick.”

“I know, I know!” Mabel whined. “But Waddles needed me.”

“Who?” Fiddleford looked down at the pig oinking at Mabel’s feet and rubbing against her legs.

“Waddles.” Mabel introduced. “I call him that because he waddles.”

“Sweetie, ya ain’t suppose to name it.” Fiddleford said with his eyes shut. “Once you name it, ya start gettin’ attached t’it. Now c’mon, I’m supposed t’take ya home.”

Mabel took the time to scratch Waddles goodbye and then allowed Fiddleford to walk her up the mountain gloomily.

At the gate Stanford was pacing, a nervous wreck, but when he saw his niece, rather than relax, he was hysterical. He pulled her into a tight hug and checked all over her body for injuries, and then proceeded to grab her by the shoulder tightly and walk her into their temple with Fiddleford behind them, prepared to play referee and to stop his friend if he became too harsh.

“Mable, how dare you leave without my permission!”

“I’m sorry, but Waddles the pig needed my help…”

“I don’t care, let the other gods take care of it if they see fit to do so!” Stanford snapped. “You are to stay on Olympus where I can keep you safe!”

“Grunkle Ford, please, nothing has ever happened to me and…” She bit her lip. Oops.

Stanford’s whole face turned red with anger. “You’ve been down on Earth before, haven’t you? Haven’t you?!”

“O-Only twice.” Mabel mumbled to her feet with her hands behind her back.

“MABEL!”

“Stanford, control yourself.” Fiddleford said warningly next to his partner.

“Sweetheart, do you have any idea how dangerous Earth is?!” Stanford scolded. “Have I taught you nothing?! You could have been kidnapped, or hurt, or worse!”

“I can take care of myself, I’ve been doing it for thirteen years.” Mabel said weakly.

“You are not ready!” Stanford bellowed. “You’re just a little girl! You’re too…” He bit his tongue and backtracked, stopping himself from saying something hurtful. “You’re only thirteen! You’re not ready for the mortal world!”

But Mabel was staring up at him, finally, with eyes filled with tears. “You were gonna say ‘weak’, weren’t you?”

“N-No.” The god looked cornered. “No, sweetheart, I wasn’t.” He had never been the best at lying.

Mabel bit her lip. “You think I’m weak. You think I’m just some stupid girl.”

Stanford got on his knees and put his polydactyl hands on her shoulders. “Mabel, darling, no…”

Mabel shrugged his hands off of her and walked past the males for her bedroom. “It’s fine, I don’t care. Bet you wished I was taken instead of Mason, huh?” And she closed the door behind her harshly.

Stanford stared at the wood that separated him from his family. For a few moments no one moved or said a word, until Stanford said weakly, “Do you think she truly believes that, or only said it out of mixed emotions?”

Fiddleford stood behind him and patted his shoulder. “Well, in retrospect, ya don’t talk ‘bout him. At all. N’ when ya do, you’re extremely mournful of it.”

“Yes, but not because…”

“I know,” Fiddleford stopped him. “N’ I think she knows it, too, deep down, but I think she needs a gentle reminder that that’s not how ya feel. Give her some alone time to breathe, n’ then talk to her, not yell at her.”

Stanford nodded and rose with shaking knees. He was surprised to find a smile on Fiddleford’s face. “What?”

“She reminds me a lot of her great… excuse me, her grunkle.” Fiddleford shared.

Stanford snorted. “We are a lot alike…”

“I wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout you.” Fiddleford said as he walked away. “I’m just sayin’ that sneakin’ off t’care for an animal n’ namin’ it n’ basically adoptin’ it as a pet is somethang a young god once did.” And he left Stanford alone with his thoughts.

He sighed and muttered to himself, “I know she is a lot like him. That’s what worries me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

If Stanford was honest, he admired Mabel’s room. It was a beautiful place with fluffy clouds, a big window showcasing the world below, a soft bed with a nightstand that hosted her music box and a vase of her family, and every inch of her walls was coated in paintings. Birds, people, trees, animals, the moon and sun, everything, even the ceiling, was covered in beautiful paintings. Stanford always loved to sit with her and talk, and occasionally be given permission to paint with her, though he felt unworthy of that privilege today.

Through the door he could hear the music box playing. That was a relatively good sign. Grunkle Ford gently knocked on the door and waited for permission to enter. “Mabel, sweetie, may I come in?”

“Mm, hm.”

Grunkle Ford slowly opened the door and found her in her usual spot. Criss-cross on the bed, by her nightstand, and hugging her pillow with her arms and legs and she had her face down on the fluffy cloud of a pillow to hide. “Mabel, I owe you an apology.” Grunkle Ford said as he stepped into the room and closed the door. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I’m sorry.”

Mabel sniffed into her pillow and rested her chin on it, showing her beautiful brown eyes that were still forming tears. “I’m sorry I ruined the performance.”

“It’s okay,” Grunkle Ford sat by her side, giving her a few inches of space. “I don’t care about that, not nearly as much as I care about your safety. I was so scared of losing you, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.”

Mabel sniffed and tried to blink her eyes dry. “I like you better as a dad than as a god.” She mumbled, mouth covered by the pillows and her eyes peering up at him.

Grunkle Ford smiled at that, feeling his heart in his throat. “Yeah?”

“And you like me better as your d-... kid than a muse, right?” She cried, her face now fully in her pillow.

“Oh, Mabel.” Grunkle Ford whispered and gently scooped her up into his arms and held her tenderly. “Oh, my darling Mabel. Yes, of course I do.”

Mabel let her cloud pillow go and she hugged him around the neck. Grunkle Ford rubbed circles into her back as he whispered gently to her. “Sweetheart, I love you very much. You’re my entire world. The idea of being without you… it terrifies me. But I’m afraid I’ve allowed that fear to cloud my better judgement, and I’m sorry. And, for what it’s worth… I’m beyond grateful The Faiths gave me you.”

Mabel sniffed, letting her grunkle’s toga catch her tears. “You don’t wish M-Mason was here instead of me?”

“No,” Grunkle Ford said. “I do miss your brother, more than words can say, but I love you very much and wouldn’t trade you away for anything in the world.”

Mabel looked up at him with hope glistening in her eyes. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Cross your heart?” Grunkle Ford chuckled and crossed his heart. Mabel rested her head there and smiled with a tiny giggle. “I love your heartbeat.”

And no, Grunkle Ford was not crying. He stubbornly cleared his throat and blinked his eyes dry as he combed his niece’s beautiful brown hair. “So, I have a proposition for you.”

“Okay?”

“I know you want to come and go like everybody else, but I’m afraid I can’t allow that. I still stand by what I said. You are still young. Something I envy actually.” He added and they both chuckled. “But I think I have a nice compromise.”

“Isn’t that bending the law?”

“Uh… no. It’s an agreement met in the middle of what both parties want.” Grunkle Ford loosened her hold on her so they could look at each other. “Here’s what I am offering: I am willing to give you a curfew if you promise me you can stand by it. After your lessons, you may go down to the valley at the base of the mountain, and perhaps a bit into the woods that surround the valley, but you must tell me when you are leaving and you must be home by sundown. Does that sound fair?”

“YES!” Mabel cheered and bounced in his lap. “Yes, that’s all I want! I just wanna go exploring! Thank you thank you THANK YOU, Grunkle Ford!”

He chuckled and smiled at her. “Promise me you will follow the rules?”

“I promise.”

“Cross your heart?” And Mabel did so before leaping back into his arms for a tight hug. And no, Grunkle Ford still wasn’t crying. “Thank you, my dear.” He said as he hugged her again. “I’m glad I can trust you.”

Yup. That hurt. That made the tears come back in Mabel’s eyes. She hated secrets, more than anything, and she loved her grunkle but hated it when he kept things from her, but that didn’t make it right to keep things from him. She blinked her eyes dry and muttered into his shoulder, “You can’t trust me.”

Grunkle Ford let her sit on his lap to look at her softly, though his heart did pick up speed at that statement. “What do you mean?”

Mabel sighed and bit her lip, not looking back at her great-uncle. “I’ve been talking to D-... to Mason.”

Grunkle Ford stared at her. “You have?”

“I didn’t leave Olympus!” Mabel quickly explained. “Not really! I just projected myself on the art in the Temple of the Gods when he went there to pray and know who he was! I couldn’t help myself, I’m sorry! He deserved to know! He’s my twin! Twins shouldn’t keep secrets from each other! And I had always wanted to talk to him! And, and…”

“Mabel, Mabel,” Grunkle Ford hushed and combed her hair with his six fingers. “It’s alright, it’s alright. I’m not mad. I… I knew you two would meet someday. I hated the fact that you had to be apart, it wasn’t fair. I just… I… Well, how did he take the news that he was a god?” He asked with a low chuckle.

Mabel gave a watery giggle. “He didn’t believe me at first. But he came around. He’s trying to become a true hero so his godhood will come back.”

“What?!” Grunkle Ford gasped and asked sternly, “Did you tell him that was possible?”

“Well, yeah, cuz it is…”

“Mabel! You shouldn’t have done that.” He scolded as lightly as his anxiety would let him. “He could get hurt or killed.”

“But how else is he supposed to come home?” Mabel asked.

“At least he has a chance to live a happy life on Earth.”

“But Grunkle Ford! If becoming a hero will bring him home…”

“He can’t come home if he’s dead, Mabel!”

The girl growled in her throat, losing patience with Grunkle Ford’s hopelessness, and yelled, “Well, what was I supposed to do?! I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing! Do you have any idea how much it hurts to lose a twin?!”

Mabel had shouted that more in a rhetorical sense, expecting Grunkle Ford to not answer, or to admit defeat and say no; what she definitely didn’t expect was for Grunkle Ford to sigh, nod his head, and say, “I do, actually.”

The young muse blinked at him, letting his words sink in. Grunkle Ford looked so sad, so full of shame. It was the same way he looked when he thought about Dipper and believed he was alone. “Y-You do? Did you have...?”

Grunkle Ford nodded solemnly. “I did. Once. A long time ago.”

Mabel had a million questions for him. She wanted to know everything, but she decided to open with an easy question to ease her uncle into telling her what happened. “Well, what’s their name?”

Grunkle Ford met her eyes with a small, sad smile on his face. “Stanley. The Trainer of Heroes.”

#GF #gravity falls au #gravity falls #stan pines #ford pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #Mabel and Ford bonding #gift #fanfiction #help?#i love this au too much.?

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winterune · 4 years

Text

Forgotten Joy

A Persona 5 Fanfiction

Late entry for Day 9 of Daybreakers 2020 by @p5daybreak

Character: Ren Amamiya/Protagonist - Prompt: School Life

Word count: 2340

Summary: On one Friday afternoon, Ren decides to visit the batting cage in Yongen-Jaya.

A/N: I wanted to write some fluff but it became angsty near the end lol

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

He had always been interested in baseball. Not that he had ever played the game. With how Ren grew up in an environment filled with his father’s favorite phrase it’s a waste of time (really, though, it seemed everything was a waste of time to his father except school, cram school, and studying), Ren never had a chance to play or do much of anything that kids his age would have normally done. So, when he saw the batting cage in the backstreet of Yongen-Jaya, the thought had immediately entered his mind: I’m going to play this game even if it’s the last thing I do. However, with the whole Kamoshida thing happening in the past couple of weeks, Ren’s life had been in such a frenzy that he had simply forgotten the place existed.

That was, until one Friday afternoon when he had just gotten back from school and was heading to the supermarket that Morgana suddenly spoke from inside his bag.

“What’s this?”

Ren stopped mid-step and looked to his right. A narrow set of stairs tucked between buildings stood there, leading up to who-knew-where. There was a yellow sign at the top of it that said, ‘YONGEN-JAYA BATTING CAGE’.

“A batting cage,” Ren said, mostly to himself, and he caught himself. Hadn’t he wanted to visit this place for some time now?

“A batting cage?” Morgana echoed. The cat had pushed his way out of Ren’s bag and popped his head over his shoulder, placing his paws there as though Ren’s shoulder was a steppingstone. The sudden shift in weight made his shoulder sag. He seriously wondered sometimes why the cat wouldn’t walk on his own. His left shoulder was getting stiffer by the day.

“A batting cage in a small place like this?”

Ren shrugged. He did wonder where the cage exactly was, because there was the supermarket on one side and…Ren didn’t know what the other building was—it always had its shutters down every time Ren walked past it.

“What’s it like inside?” Morgana mused.

Ren glanced at the cat. “Do you wanna check it out?”

“Sure.”

***

The batting cage was nestled at the rooftop in-between buildings. Up the set of rickety stairs to another flight of stairs before Ren reached the topmost landing where he was met by another sign on a white board. A doorway to his right opened up to a narrow hallway, with a receptionist counter on one side and the netted batting areas on the other.

“So it’s on the rooftop,” Morgana said as Ren ducked underneath the doorway.

It wasn’t big, and it wasn’t crowded. In fact, they were practically the only ones there. However, despite its size, the place didn’t feel cluttered at all. “Nice,” Ren murmured under his breath. There were a few tables and chairs for people—if there were any—to sit and wait. Its roof only covered the receptionist area and half of the batting cages. Ren liked how the people had used a spare space to make a little bit of money and give some sort of downtime activity for anyone in the neighborhood without having to travel very far. He already liked this place very much and could see himself just sitting there, reading a book.

“Can I help you?” The voice from the counter interrupted his reverie and Ren found a middle-aged man standing behind it. He wasn’t as tall as him, and a little stout around the edges. He was probably around Sojiro’s age—probably younger. He wore a bluish-green shirt and a matching cap that Ren had initially thought might be a uniform, but he couldn’t find any sort of logo or even the words Batting Cage on it.

However, before Ren could say anything, the man had tilted his head to the side and said, “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Oh—um, yes, I just moved here last month,” Ren said.

“Ah!” the man exclaimed, eyes widening at the realization. “The one staying at Sakura-san’s place?” Ren nodded. He didn’t know how much he could tell him, as Sojiro had explicitly said not to talk much with the people around here. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard about you. You go to Shujin Academy, right? I heard you’re helping Sakura-san with his cafe?”

Right, that was what Sojiro was telling people: that Ren was working part-time there. Then, not exactly sure what he should do, Ren bowed and introduced himself formally, to which the man smiled and nodded and replied with, “I’m the owner of this batting cage. Feel free if you want to play some game. It’s your first time here, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we only have one type of machine at the moment, but I do plan on adding some later on. They’re five hundred yen a game,” the man went on. “Also, to get that youth blood pumping inside you, we give out prizes if you manage to hit all of them. There might even be some little extra if you hit a homerun.”

“Prizes?” came Morgana’s muffled voice from inside Ren’s bag—the cat had shuffled back inside when Ren started talking with the owner. “Do it, Ren! They might be useful.”

“Shut up, Mona,” Ren muttered from the corner of his mouth, giving his bag a quick squeeze.

“Hm? What’s that?”

“Oh, um, nothing,” Ren quickly answered. “Anyway, yeah, I guess I’ll play.”

***

Ren entered one of the cages and set his bag down on the ground—the batting cage token on one hand and the baseball bat on the other. His fingers flexed around the hilt.

“Have you ever played baseball?” Morgana asked.

His only experience in baseball was in some of the PE classes he had had back in middle school or watching his school team practice from his window in the classroom.

“A bit, I guess,” Ren said, inserting the token to the machine. “If you count PE classes.”

“What about with your friends?” Morgana asked again. “You know, like local neighborhood matches?”

Ren chuckled. “How do you know kids often have neighborhood matches?”

If cats could scoff, Ren swore Morgana had done just that. “I told you. I was a human. Don’t underestimate my knowledge of a normal human life.”

Normal, huh, Ren thought. If playing catch or having friendly neighborhood skirmishes counted as normal, then Ren felt he wasn’t much of a normal kid. But still, he laughed as he positioned himself on the base and gripped the hilt of his baseball bat tightly.

He heard the pitcher machine started, the cogs and wheels moving, then—

His body moved, swinging the bat wide.

The ball hit the net behind him.

“That was close,” Morgana said.

That had been far from close. Ren frowned, rolling his stiff shoulders and neck. He had run around a Palace and fought Shadows. His body had felt so light and nimble and fast. Could he really not hit one measly ball?

The pitcher machine moved again.

Ren swung his bat too fast.

He sighed. “Want me to change with you?” Morgana said.

“You can’t even hold the bat,” Ren retorted.

“And you can’t even hit it.”

Ren glanced at the cat, who seemed to be smirking. He couldn’t help but feel his own lips stretching into a grin.

Third time’s the charm, he told himself. He tried to remember what it had been like to hit the ball—the stance he had to have, how tight or how loose he had to hold the bat, how flexible his body had to be. Watch the ball. He remembered someone telling him once. Watch the ball and predict its trajectory. Not that he understood much about baseball to be able to do that.

The machine should only throw fastballs, so…

The machine moved, and Ren swung his bat. It grazed the underside of the ball, though not enough of an impact to send it flying to the other side.

“Aaah so close!” Morgana commented.

It had been so long. Was it three years—four—since the last time he last played the sport? He hadn’t played it enough for his body to remember any sort of kinesthetic memory. But he had managed to touch the ball, so that was something. Now, if he could just do that again but better.

The machine shot the ball toward him and—

Ren swung hard and fast, timing it carefully. The bat made contact, and the ball flew to the other side, hitting the net.

“You hit it!” Morgana cheered.

Ren watched the ball fall to the ground on the other side. He remembered it, the feeling of his bat making full contact with the ball—the resistance and vibration that followed—and then seeing the ball flying to the other side. A sort of jubilation he rarely felt filled his whole being and before he knew it, his lips had already stretched into a wide grin.

“All right! There’s more of that where it’s coming from!”

***

He didn’t get the prize. Well, of course he didn’t, not after those first three failed hits. “We’ll get it next time,” Morgana had said. Before Ren left, the batting cage owner told him that they were going to have new machines installed over the summer, offering more challenging faster pitches. Though he had yet to master this beginner stage, as he liked to call it, Ren still promised the man he would come by once in a while.

Ren was quiet on their way down from the batting cage. The sun had set, plunging the sky into a deep indigo hue with streaks of dark red and orange by the horizon. There were no clouds to be seen, but unlike his hometown where Ren could often see the stars and make out constellations in the night, the Tokyo night lights often obscured those same stars from view.

He heard Morgana’s voice in the background. The cat was talking about how the batting cage could improve Ren’s handy works, which might help in future Palace infiltrations. Then he started wondering what kind of prizes they would get. Then Morgana told Ren not to forget to stop by the batting cage so Ren could improve his batting skills.

“Hey, I’m not trying to become a Koshien player, you know,” Ren interjected with a laugh.

“I know, but I think this skill would come in real handy to have,” the cat said. “A good coordination between your eyes, your hands, and your mind? That’s a skill any Phantom Thief should have.”

Ren gave a small chuckle, keeping his eyes to the ground. “Yeah, okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

There was a pause, before Morgana popped out of Ren’s bag and he felt the cat climbing onto his shoulder. “Hm? What’s wrong? I thought you were having fun there.”

Ren glanced at the cat, not sure what he was getting on. “What do you mean? I am having fun.”

“You don’t sound as enthusiastic as before though.”

Enthusiastic?

Ren stopped in his tracks. What did he mean by ‘enthusiastic’? Ren was enthusiastic, wasn’t he? He was, but…

After leaving the batting cage behind and feeling the cool evening air brush against his face, that rush of adrenaline he had felt hitting one ball after another had subsided, leaving him feeling somewhat empty. The elation from before felt like a distant dream, a brief reprieve before he was thrust back into reality.

This feeling had felt like an everyday thing that Ren had never noticed it. Like a protection gear he had put around himself to brave whatever reality had to offer. As though a part of his mind had settled on the fact that something would take away his happiness and joy and he had to be ready for whenever it struck.

The image of a broken bat came to mind. His father’s cold eyes. The screaming he had heard behind closed doors. Ren had retreated to the park, as he always would every time his parents fought. He didn’t remember if he had cried—it hadn’t seemed like something worth crying for—but he remembered now the pain he had felt when he heard the crack and saw the splintered wood.

Ren had completely forgotten about it—the first and last time his father ever broke something of his. His mother had given it to him, after seeing him enjoying the sport in a local event. A glove and a bat—ones he could play with the kids in the neighborhood.

“Ren.”

A soft furry touch to his cheek, and he realized his eyes were wet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, quietly taking his glasses off and wiping his eyes. “Dust must’ve caught in them.”

“Hey, if it’s hard to talk about—”

But Ren shook his head before Morgana could finish his sentence. He realized he had never told anyone about it—about his parents—not even when he still lived with them, because people knew them, and they would expect Ren to be the proper young man worthy of them. Now he was here, living by himself, gotten rid of if he were to use Sojiro’s words. Would it be all right if he talked about them now?

Ren blew a quiet breath from his mouth, putting his glasses back on, then leaned against the railing of the stairs. The streaks of light in the sky were fading away, the streetlamps flickering to life.

“You asked me if I’d played with some of the neighborhood kids, right?” Ren said. Morgana nodded. “Well, I did, for a time. But then my dad found out, and…I stopped.”

It took him a moment to realize that Morgana probably couldn’t understand a single thing from a short explanation like that. As expected, Morgana then asked, “What happened with your dad?”

Ren chuckled under his breath and gave the cat a bitter smile. “Let’s just say, he’s not the best dad around.” And in the quiet of the night, Ren began telling Morgana about his parents.

~ END ~

#daybreak2020 #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #morgana #daybreakprotagonistweek2 #persona #persona 5 #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my story #persona fanfic #p5 fanfic

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snarkandsarcasmftw · 5 years

Note

Hi I'm new to your tumblr I've read all your fake dating/slow burn/ enemies to lovers thing and was wondering if I can shoot 3 names out there Chad Gable Drew Gulak Pete Dunne

First of all, thank you so so so much for reading them. I hope you enjoyed them, they were fun for me to do. Second, omg, yes please? Bring it on. I’ve answered them below. I really hope you like what I came up with.

Tagging: @rampagewriting @heelsamizayn @andie01 @missjenniferb @kittysilver86 @vonschweetz @xwicker-manx @calwitch @writtingrose @wwe-fanfiction-queen @rollinsreginssupreme

more fanfiction trope fmk | faq | add yourself to my tag list - if it won’t let you, dm me and I’ll be happy to add you.

Fake Dating:

Chad Gable;

Baron caught Chad Gable staring at her again like she was on fire and he had the hose and Baron doubled over in laughter. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. Her? You really think you have any sort of a shot with her? She’s way out of your league. Besides, I already asked her on a date. She said she’d think about it. Bet that burns you right up, huh? Gonna go pout now, Shorty? Go on.”

“Fuck off, Corbin. I’m not in the mood today.” Chad glared up at Baron. At hearing that Baron had naturally asked Ana on a date, his stomach sank a little. There went that. Women had a hard time resisting Baron, he’d seen that for a fact. Baron also didn’t let anyone in back forget it, either. Chad’s gaze settled on Ana for a second or two and he turned his attention back to Baron, repeating himself. “Go on, Corbin. I said fuck off. Do I have to suplex you? Because we both know I can.”

“What’d you say to me, short stuff?” Baron squared up, flexing and ready for a fight. Chad rolled his eyes and stepped up, body to body with Baron, putting his chest into shoving at Baron, smirking a little when Baron growled. “I said, fuck off.”

“Now why the hell would I wanna do that? This is fun for me.”

“Because if you don’t, I’m gonna…” a throat cleared from behind them and Baron’s smirk grew. “You’re gonna what?” Baron asked calmly, this look on his face as if he’d done nothing to start anything. “Ana, hey.. You come over to tell me you’re gonna let me take ya on that date, darlin?”

Ana’s laugh had Chad resisting the urge to laugh himself and also had him raising a brow. Ana stepped in between the two men, looking from Baron to Chad as she bit her lip. “Baron?”

“Yeah, princess?”

“What was the name of the place you wanted to take me?” Ana asked, her eyes settling intently on Chad’s mouth. She was just so fucking sick of Baron messing with the guy. Chad didn’t deserve it. Chad was more of a man in his pinkie finger than Baron was in his entire body. It wasn’t Baron Ana wanted, it was honestly Chad. So Ana was about to do something to fix the whole situation and to show Baron once and for all that not every woman liked overgrown fuckboys with the mannerisims and the mentality of a 12 year old.

“Some barbecue place near the hotel. Why? Does this mean you’re finally gonna give in and admit you want me? I fuckin knew it.” Baron was gloating already, smirking, his chest puffed out. Ana gave a short laugh and shook her head no. “Not quite.”

She turned to Chad and pressed her hand palm down against the front of his singlet, letting her fingertips brush against the straps, giving a playful tug to pull herself against him closer. Chad sucked in a sharp breath and eyed her with a curious glance.

What was she up to?

“You can take me though. You can take me anywhere, Chad. You can do anything.” Ana’s teeth grazed her bottom lip and the way her voice dropped real low as she told him he could do anything had Chad giving a smirk and slipping his arms around her as he stared down at her. “Anything, huh?”

“Mhm. See, what Baron’s failed to learn is that some women prefer men to boys. I think it’s high time he learned that lesson… So.. How about it, Chad? Gonna show me what being with a real man is like?” Ana bit her lip, voice taking on a flirty and giggly tone as she walked her fingers up and down his chest, staring up at him. Chad swallowed hard and sucked in a breath when he felt her rubbing right against him. His fingertips dug into her lower back as he cleared his throat.

“I’d love that, actually.” he answered, flashing Baron a smirk as he answered, watching Baron’s eyes cloud with anger. Ana grabbed hold of Chad’s jaw, guiding his gaze down to her as she gave a soft giggle. “You can pick me up at 6. I’ll be the one in the little red dress.”

“Red, huh?” Chad breathed against her lips as Ana rose to tiptoe slightly and brushed them against his while muttering, “Mhm.. I mean you are the one who said you liked my new red lipgloss..”

Chad’s fingertips dug into her lower back more firmly and his tongue slipped past her lips as he chuckled, “ You’re something else, you know that?”

Slow Burn:

Pete Dunne;

“ Y’ can always call me. Y’ know that, right?”

When Pete said it at the time, Alexandra honestly hadn’t ever thought she’d be considering it. But he was her best friend, they’d been best friends since he was 7 and she was 5, so she knew he meant it. She’d assured him she’d be fine and that she knew what she was doing and now, standing in the airport in Florida, where he’d relocated to, she just wasn’t sure how true that was anymore.

The only thing she was beyond sure of was that she missed him. Nothing felt the same without him. Despite having everything go her way for once and having pretty much everything she thought she wanted, she still felt this void. After thinking about it, she decided that she was sick of feeling that way and she realized that the only times she didn’t feel that way were the times she was with Pete.

The realization prompted her to break off her engagement, move out of her ex fiance’s loft and buy a ticket to Florida. She didn’t know if what she was doing was a huge mistake and while she knew Pete meant it when he said it originally, she didn’t know that calling him now would be a good idea.

What if he’d met someone?

The thought had her conflicted. As everyone on her flight rushed to meet the loved ones they had waiting on them at the airport, Alexandra powered on her phone and bit her lip as she realized that Pete had gotten the text she sent explaining that she wanted to visit and telling him she was actually en route.

Pete Dunne stood in the lobby of the airport. He glanced at the time, blue eyes darting to the gate she’d be coming out of when her plane finished unloading. Just as he started to tap his foot impatiently, he spotted her.

Trent and Tyler shared a look as he started to shove through the thickening crowd and headed towards one of the gates. They followed, Trent musing to himself, “I wonder if he’ll finally tell her how he really feels.”

“I wonder if she’ll finally open her eyes. Because she feels the same way too. Remember last time we went back? When he took us to meet her? The tension was so fuckin thick I couldn’t bloody breathe.” Tyler answered as the two caught up to Pete just in time to witness it all unfolding.

Pete spotted Alexandra right as she spotted him. He walked towards her quickly and she ran towards him, meeting him halfway, climbing into his arms, taking his face into her hands as she crashed her mouth against his and kissed him until he felt his lips starting to swell and bruise. Pete’s fingers dug into her ass and he growled quietly into the kiss while deepening it.

“I broke it off with Jasper.”

“Thank fuck. Was startin t’ think I was going to have t’ kidnap y’ before the wedding.” Pete let her slide down his body and stand on her own feet but he pulled her close, staring down at her. “Yer okay though… Right?”

“Better than okay, actually. I feel happier and free now. More free than I’ve felt in a long time. I had to come here because I missed you and it was driving me insane.” Alexandra admitted it shyly as her gaze settled on the stone tiled floor. Pete tilted her chin up, staring down at her intently. “Did y’ come here for me?”

“I did.”

The smile came before he could stop it and he leaned in, crashing his mouth against hers all over again, slower and deeper. She clung to him and whimpered quietly at the sheer need in the kiss as she asked, “Did you want me to come here for you?”

“ Just want you actually.” Pete admitted quietly, the kiss breaking as the two pulled apart, working to catch their breaths and straighten their disheveled appearances while laughing and staring at each other.

Enemies To Lovers:

Drew Gulak;

“If that dress got any shorter, you’d be violating several dress codes in the handbook.” Drew’s gaze roamed over her body and Carmen fumed, looking up at him. Naturally, rather than spare her a compliment, he had to point out something she was doing wrong.

It felt like no matter what she did, Drew Gulak was going to find fault with it. The man was overbearing. The fact that he was also her biggest temptation went without saying. She preferred not to think about it, if she had to be perfectly honest.

“Oh? And what if I told you the higher ups like these dresses? I mean they must because this is what I’m told to put on every single time I have to do a segment or walk you to the ring, asshole.” Carmen stood straighter, her gaze still only meeting the center of Drew’s chest. She jabbed her finger into it, biting her lip when she felt the muscles beneath his bare skin ripple at the touch. Tilting her gaze slightly, she met his gaze and smirked. “ Tony also likes these dresses.”

“Tony’s easily amused and easily bored, as well.” Drew fumed at the remark. Every single time he was around Carmen, he felt his grip on his self control slip just a little more. Lately, being around her for any length of time was a challenge to his fading self control of epic proportions.

Especially when she made her little comments. Or when she openly flirted with their co workers. Or wore the revealing outfits and the little heels she seemed to enjoy wearing to flaunt her body to pretty much any man with eyes.

It was driving him fucking insane.

She raised her hand and Drew caught it with his hand around her wrist. He stepped closer and stared down at her intently. Carmen stepped closer, glaring up at him. “You’re an overbearing, uptight…” her words were cut off at Drew loosening his grip on her hand, letting his own hand boldly venture down to her ass, squeezing it hard through the fabric of her dress as he crushed her against him and buried his mouth in her mouth deep and mumbled simply, “Brat.”

Carmen started off with every intention of shoving him away, but she wound up gripping his tie and raising herself to tiptoe, one of her legs raising to his hip and his hand moving down to grip her thigh. She gasped into the deepening kiss when not only did he bite her lower lip, but she rubbed right against him and felt the way he was straining at his trousers already. “You do this on purpose. Now you know what you do to me.” Drew stated as his fingers slid through her hair and snagged in the ends, hand resting across the back of her neck as Carmen felt her lips swelling under the impact of the kiss he gave. “What I’m struggling to figure out is why. I know you’re not interested in Tony or any of the others.” the kiss broke and he stared her down, firm gaze as he waited on her answer.

Carmen’s mouth opened and closed as she tried to come up with something, with anything other than the honest to God truth.

“I.. Oh fuck you.” Carmen grabbed hold of his tie, pulling his mouth back down to her own as she gave back a kiss with twice as much force and passion as the one he’d pulled her into. When she rubbed against him, Drew groaned, his lips parting, her tongue slipping between them, massaging his tongue.

#fanfiction trope fmk drabbles #fanfiction trope fmk #chad gable #pete dunne #drew gulak #chad gable one shot #pete dunne one shot #drew gulak one shot #chad gable fanfiction #pete dunne fanfiction #drew gulak fanfiction #chad gable fanfic #pete dunne fanfic #drew gulak fanfic #irish-newzealand-idian-dutch

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psycho-slytherin · 5 years

Text

Strangers ch. 34

Yoongi finds your phone– and so does someone else...

Pairing: Yoongi x (female) Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Genre: fluff, angst

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

You force a laugh. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t lie to me, y/n,” Yoongi says softly, his voice a knife in your back. “These– Jesus.” He exhales sharply as your phone buzzes again, again, again. You would’ve turned your notifications off months ago, but you need Twitter for your jobs. “How long has it been like this?”

@satanhasaholdoffrance: hey @yourname make like a tree and die

@queenynuwu: I hope y/n knows we love her!! <3 @yourname

@gummyyoongi: has anyone found @yourname‘s address yet?

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply stubbornly. You don’t want your weight on Yoongi’s shoulders, not when you know he’ll blame himself.

“Bullshit. You said this wasn’t happening! You told me that my fans weren’t coming after you.”

“And you never checked,” you reply, your throat tight. “You know what I am. I’m a liar. And you trusted me– that’s your mistake.”

Yoongi flinches. “I know you don’t mean that.”

You begin trembling, your hands and arms and shoulders tensing against your will. “You shouldn’t trust me, Yoongi.” I’ve kept too many secrets from you.

“Well, I do trust you. I know you too well, y/n, and you don’t mean that. But this?” He taps your phone. “This is messed up.”

You take a step back, shrinking into yourself. “I-I’m sorry.”

“What? No. Why are you apologizing?” Yoongi gets up and walks towards you, his eyes intense. “My fans– the stuff they’re saying– that’s what’s messed up. And y/n, I’m so, so sorry this happened. You don’t deserve it.”

“I, uh...” you mumble, confused. Why isn’t he angry at you? You lied to him, again and again and again. “Sorry...”

Yoongi sighs, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “What are you even apologizing for?”

“I don’t know!” You cry. “I thought you’d be mad at me!”

“I’m not mad at you, y/n-ie.” Yoongi raises his arm and brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face. “I’m just worried. The comments you’re getting, the haters... they’re too much for anyone.”

Your mind drifts to the nightmares, the thoughts that your hate comments have inspired within you.

Yoongi’s gaze darkens, but he’s not looking at you– he’s staring far off, at something beyond. “I’ve seen idols, trainees– friends– that internalized those things, and they didn’t see an escape... no one is equipped to deal with this shit alone, no one.” Yoongi swallows, and his voice wavers. “So don’t try, y/n. You’re not alone, and I can’t lose you.”

You blink hard before drawing back and punching Yoongi in the arm.

“Ow!” Yoongi yelps, rubbing his arm. “What the hell?”

“That’s for being dramatic,” you say, using all your willpower to keep your voice light. “And this–” you poke him in the ribs– “is for being selfish. I don’t wanna lose me either, nerd. It’s not all about you.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Yoongi laughs. “My bad, I almost forgot that you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

“Just don’t let it happen again,” you sniff haughtily.

“I won’t, promise. Hey, do you need a lift to your next job?”

“Nah, I’ll take the bus. I’m not famous like you,” you reply. Besides, you want to be alone with your thoughts.

“Suit yourself. I have to go to the studio anyways.”

“Another BTS comeback already?” You muse, and Yoongi winks.

“Nope.”

~~~

Once Yoongi leaves, you wriggle into another sweater and shrug your coat on over it. You can’t help but feel chilly lately, and you can’t afford to get a cold.

You leave your apartment building and quickly walk towards the bus stop. Your afternoon will be spent on a photoshoot for a new makeup line, and Lisa said you’d be able to keep some of the merchandise.

You adjust your face mask and pop in your earphones, your mind a whirling dervish of thoughts. You imagined Yoongi would be furious– after all, you’d promised no more secrets. You couldn’t help but keep your Twitter mess to yourself, because you didn’t want your friend to stress about it.

Friend... the word seems strange to you, almost wrong.

Well, we’re ‘dating’ now, you think, so I guess he’s my fake-boyfriend instead.

It’s weird; for years you were completely in love with Yoongi, besotted with his face and voice and laugh and lyrics. His shy, goofy nature. His irresistible charm. You remember when you and Lisa would scream together at every new music video, each concept photo, any hint or clue or theory. It seems so long ago now.

Speaking of Lisa... your phone begins buzzing with a call from your manager/friend.

“Y/n, darling, how are you doing? How’s the leg?”

“All healed up now,” you reply, flexing and unflexing your left leg. You lost a lot of blood, but your injury missed all the arteries and important stuff.

“Great. Hey, I lined up a job, it’s yours for the taking if you’re interested. They need an extra in a cologne commercial, it should only be a two-day shoot and we can plan around Moon Over The Sea. What do you think?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you murmur absentmindedly. “How much does it pay?”

“Pretty well, your cut would be only a little less than you’re making on the makeup shoot today.”

“Alright, sign me up.”

“Great. And... how’s it going with Yoongi?”

You jolt. “What?”

“C’mon, y/n, you can’t expect me not to ask. You’re dating your idol!”

“I-I’m not, really...”

“Oh, shush. It’s official, isn’t it? BigHit confirmed it last week. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were together!”

You grit your teeth– you have to tell her the truth. “Lisa, seriously, it’s not real.”

“I know, I bet it totally feels like a fairy tale, huh? I’m so jealous.” Lisa’s voice gets quieter, pouty. “We have to hang out soon, it’s been ages since we’ve had a proper gossip sesh!”

“But...”

“No buts! I’m ordering you as your manager to hang out with your best friend... who is also your manager... who is also me.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Yes ma’am, just pencil me in.”

“Will do! See you soon.”

“See ya.

Humming to yourself, you continue your bus ride, arriving at the studio a few minutes early. A fashionable young man strides up to you bearing shorts and a shirt.

“Ah, you’re here. L/n y/n, right? Perfect, perfect, put these on and we’ll get you straight into hair and makeup.”

“Uhh...” you examine the outfit he gave you. “Are you sure this is for me?”

“Of course I am, what are you talking about?”

“It’s black, these shorts are made of leather, and...” you trail off, gulping. “It’s all very tight.” That’s right, clothes like these will only hug the curves you don’t have. You’re not a sex icon like some of the female idols you’ve seen Yoongi with on TV. You know as someone in the entertainment industry, you’re supposed to be fashionable– but you’re too much a fan of oversized sweaters and soft pants to let them go. “I don’t know if this outfit suits me.”

“Nonsense, you’re beautiful– you just need the confidence! Besides, you’re gonna have to get used to this type of stuff if you want to get anywhere in your career,” the man chuckles. “Changing room is over there. When you’re ready, head to hair and makeup.”

“R-right,” you mumble, taking the clothes. They look so cold, you shiver just thinking about putting them on.

Ten minutes later, you stare at yourself in the mirror. Staring back at you seems to be a child, a little girl who doesn’t belong, who can barely fill out the tight crop top or shorts. And you’re supposed to be dating Yoongi? You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. Yoongi deserves better, someone prettier, smarter, who looks like they belong at his side. In your mind’s eye, you can see Yoongi next to you in the mirror– black-haired, a brow raised, his mouth quirking upwards in a lazy smirk. He looks like a prince, a god, and you look like you’re playing dress-up next to him. No wonder so many people are upset; you’re doing Yoongi no favors by being with him.

You sigh and shake your head. You’re cold, so cold, and you hate it. You turn away from the mirror to get your hair and makeup done.

“Okay, can you give me a little lip bite? Something cheeky? Oh, perfect! Yes, hold like that!” The camera flashes while you sit frozen in place. “Cross your legs now, hold the lipstick closer to your face... can you give me bedroom eyes?”

Face flushed, you lower your lashes and pout your lips like you’ve seen real models do, and the camera flashes again and again. The lipstick you’ve got on is a brighter red than you’ve ever dared to wear, and combined with the outfit and your bold eyeliner, you look a little edgy.

“Great, y/n, you’re doing wonderfully. We need one more photo for the spread...” the photographer looks around the photo studio, which is a rather minimalist set. “Can someone get me that chair? Y/n, sit on it backwards and try for a smirk– like an ‘I’m-better-than-you’ face.”

But I’m not. Still you try, channeling your inner Seokjin as you fix the camera with your best downward stare, and then half smiling as though you’ve got a secret– which you do, too many to count. Half a dozen shots later, you’re dismissed with the promise that the money will be wired to your account by Friday.

The next morning, you wake up to the familiar buzzing of your notifications, again and again and again. You haven’t overslept, have you? No, your clock informs you that it’s not even six AM. You groan and flip your phone over to read your new mentions.

@beautyoftheseoul: Check out our new line of matte lipsticks, modeled by #MoonOverTheSea’s @yourname!

@chimyoongles: Omg @2460sunshine did you see that @yourname liked a yoongi thirst tweet? Lmaooo I’m dying she’s rly all of us

@scarletwitchisjunghoseok: I think I love @yourname now that she’s exposed herself as an army lololol

@captainkookie21: why are ppl stanning @yourname for her fuckup lol it just goes to show what a liar and a slut she is.

You blink sleepily. You liked a tweet about Yoongi? You’ve been careful about doing that ever since you became a public figure, in case Yoongi noticed. You tap through your likes and gasp:

@slutfordionysus: rt if you want Suga to crush you between his thighs, like if you want him to use his tongue technology on you ;)

Oh, fuck. You never liked that. You’ve never even seen that tweet. Which means... you’ve been hacked?

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pizza-is-my-buziness · 6 years

Text

I Wanna Be Who I Couldn’t Say I’d Ever Been

So this story is completely the result of the awesome Ruby Hale head canons that @ohdangitsang has been blessing me with for the last few weeks and honestly I am just so grateful for these ideas because I need them in my life. Please never stop.

Basically it’s Ruby + being raised by SHIELD moms + plus going to school with “normal” teenagers Peter, Ned and MJ and being a total gay mess. And I definitely want to write more in this because I just love this verse so much.

So yeah, it’s a total guilty pleasure. But that’s the point, right?

“Remember: don’t kill anyone today.”

Daisy had said those words a few short hours ago, a smile on her face, but a hint of fear in her eyes, like she was actually a little bit worried about the joke being more prophetic than humorous. Ruby had only looked at her before getting out of the car without comment and walking up the steps of Midtown School of Science and Technology.

Now Ruby can’t help but repeat Daisy’s words in her mind, thinking about them like a mantra, an important thing to keep in mind.

It’s her first day of high school. She really can’t afford to kill anyone.

Though it is a little bit tempting.

Ruby tightens her hand into a fist, flexing her fingers -empty and useless- as she sits through a biology lecture that covers something she learned years ago. Who would have thought that Hydra had time to actually teach important academic concepts in between teaching their students how to kill the president with a fork?

Ruby tries to focus on the words of the teacher rather than the onslaught of other stimuli around her. There are twenty other students in the class, double the amount of teenagers that she’s used to being around at one time, and each one of them seems determined to make as much noise as possible. The scratching of pencils on paper, the scuff of sneakers on linoleum, the tap of fingers on the surface of a desk, the snuffling, sniffing, coughing, scratching…Ruby doesn’t know how they can stand all of it. It makes her skin crawl, makes her want to jump out of her seat and release some of the tension coiling at the base of her spine.

And the teacher doesn’t seem at all bothered by all the sounds, continuing with his lecture like he isn’t aware of the constant stream of noise coming from his pupils.

Plus there’s the sounds coming from the hallway outside. She’s counted ten people out in the hallway since the start of class twenty-five minutes ago and then there’s the banging of doors, the sighing and rattling pipes, the murmur of voices from the other classrooms.

Ruby can’t even think about the sounds coming from outside the window right now. She’s barely holding onto her sanity as it is.

The person in front of her is a foot-tapper and Ruby stretches her fingers toward the pen on her desk, holding her breath as she curls her fingers around it and pulls it closer and-

Don’t kill anyone today.

Ruby sighs as Daisy’s words repeat through her mind and she forces herself to relax against the back of her seat, loosening her grip on her pen. She can’t afford to make a mistake on her first day and risk getting sent off to the Fridge or some other SHIELD stronghold -a favorite threat of Mack and Coulson. Ruby is pretty sure that Coulson is mostly kidding when he says it, but she’s not completely sure about Mack. Though she’s not sure that he has that kind of pull.

Better to not risk it until at least Friday.

Instead, Ruby just exhales slowly through her teeth, giving the teacher a cursory glance to make sure that she’s still ahead of his current lecture points, before letting her eyes play over the collection of teenagers seated around her.

Real, normal, actual teenagers. Ones who have been living in this normal, real, regular life since they were born. Teenagers who don’t know anything about how to kill someone with their bare hands. Teenagers who haven’t been designed to be the perfect weapon.

Ruby has no idea how they do it.

She looks at the boy sitting to her left, the one intently scribbling in his notebook even though nothing he’s writing has anything to do with the equations that the teacher is writing on the board. Ruby watches him for a second before growing bored with his muses on the abilities of various species of spiders, studying the smattering of other students around her. The blonde in a cheerleading uniform, the kid in glasses who is diligently taking notes on the lecture, the guy staring at his crotch where he’s got his phone hidden like he’s totally being sneaky. The girl diagonal to her that isn’t even bothering to hide the fact that she’s reading a book and not paying even a sliver of attention to the teacher.

Ruby shifts impatiently in her seat, glancing toward the clock. Her body is humming with energy -she’s not used to sitting still for this long and she actually finds herself missing the drills and exercise routines that her instructors used to make her run until she was blinking sweat away from her eyes and gritting her teeth against the burning in her muscles.

When the bell finally rings, Ruby jumps in her seat, startled by the sudden, shrill sound. She’s heard it three times already, but she still hasn’t grown used to the sound and she knocks her books onto the floor, earning her a few giggles from her classmates. The kid who had been intently scribbling down things about spiders starts to help her gather her stuff but Ruby snatches it away quickly, hurrying out of the room.

It feels good to be moving at least, even if she’s just going from one room to the next, following the schedule that Jemma put into her hands the night before and instructed her to follow down to the minute. “You always need to be exactly where you’re supposed to be,” she had said, her voice a mixture of stern and understanding. “It’s very important.”

Ruby had taken the schedule with a roll of her eyes. “You think I don’t know how to follow orders?”

She already has the schedule memorized, right down to the room numbers and the names of the teachers and the layout of the school building. Ruby follows the crush of students in the direction of the cafeteria, studying the new terrain with a touch of trepidation. Daisy had briefed her on this part of her day, telling her to make friends, to find someone pleasant to sit with so that she didn’t have to be alone.

Friends. Hmm. Ruby figures it’s probably pretty hard to make friends when you’re attending normal high school for the first time after being raised as an indomitable Hydra weapon. But also the whole not having said a word to anyone all day thing probably doesn’t help either.

Ruby isn’t entirely sure where she stands on the subject of friends anyway. She’s never had them; she’s only ever dealt with people who sought to keep her from her goal, her purpose. She’s had the blood of her classmates on her hands, and even in some cases, their deaths on her shoulders. Which is probably something the people laughing and carrying on around her can’t exactly relate to.

“Hey! Hey, new girl!”

It takes Ruby only a second to ascertain that this summons is directed at her. When she turns her head, she sees the spider-boy waving her over to a table, a grin on his face. Beside him, his pudgy friend is also smiling, though much in the same way that Daisy had smiled at her that morning -hopeful but with a hint of fear.

“Come sit with us.” He points to an empty chair opposite of where he’s currently sitting and Ruby debates her options for a second before moving in his direction.

“We always have empty spaces at our table,” the spider-boy tells her before sitting down in his own seat. “I’m Peter and this is Ned. How’s your first day going?”

Ruby blinks at him, trying to decide if this is a normal thing that normal teenagers do. Do they often talk to one another without pausing? Do they often engage in conversation with strangers without having any type of motive?

Peter and Ned exchange a look at her silence and then Ned shrugs, picking up the slice of pizza on his plate and starting to eat like having strange, silent, blonde girls at the lunch table is completely ordinary.

“You need help navigating the line?” Peter tilts his head in the direction of the massing of students moving through the line, holding trays of food.

Ruby unzips her backpack, pulling out the lunch that Jemma had packed for her that morning in a lunchbox that Daisy had bought for her. “It’s red, see? Like…you know…” Daisy had grinned at her, far too amused in what she perceived as her own cleverness. “Like ruby.”

Ruby isn’t entirely sure if normal teenagers have lunchboxes to coordinate with their names so she makes a mental note to do some recon, just so she knows how to ensure her normalcy tomorrow.

No one really seems to be paying much attention to her at all, aside from Peter and Ned, so Ruby figures that she’s safe for the time being.

Peter just nods. “Ah, good thinking,” he says. “The food here can actually be pretty good, though.”

Ned lifts his pizza slice as proof. “Mondays are always pizza day.”

Ruby studies the triangle in his hand. “I’ve never had pizza.”

This comment earns her incredulous looks from both Ned and Peter and Ruby is pretty sure that Ned only just barely manages not to drop the pizza back onto his tray. She isn’t sure if their surprise is because she’s uttered her first sentence since walking into the school building or because she’s never eaten pizza before.

She’s not sure which is a worse offense in their minds.

Peter and Ned are still fumbling with a response when Ruby senses movement to her right and turns her head just as the girl from her science class drops into the chair beside her. She sets her tray down in front of her and pulls out her book, flipping it open without a glance at the other people at the table.

“That’s Michelle,” Peter says, pointing to the girl with her curly hair piled on top of her head and her deep brown eyes scanning the pages of her book.

“Sup,” Michelle says without looking out from her book. “MJ.”

Peter lifts his eyebrows. “I thought you said only your friends could call you that.”

The girl just looks at him over the top of her book and turns the page without comment.

Ruby looks at the three of them and tries to decipher the conversation going on around her. She’s starting to feel even less equipped for normal high school than she’d previously thought.

There seems to be an air of expectation at the table and Ruby sighs, breathing out slowly. “My name is Ruby.”

It’s been a while since she’s been around people who didn’t know who she was.

Who didn’t know to be afraid of her.

Ruby isn’t sure what to make of the sudden tightness in her chest, the way her stomach feels like it’s twisting around inside her body.

“So,” Ned says, unaware of the sudden fluttery panic that Ruby feels running through her body, “you’ve really never had pizza?”

~ ~ ~

After lunch, Ruby is almost relieved to head to the gym, though her relief is quickly tempered by disappointment when she sees that it’s nothing like the gym from the safe house. There are just bleachers and freshly waxed floors and a few basketball hoops and everything smells like sweat and desperation and rubber and Ruby isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do with this.

How is she supposed to keep herself in shape with…this? How is she supposed to work off the energy threatening to tear her apart from the inside out?

The coach blows the whistle around his neck and Ruby jumps once again, cursing herself under her breath. She makes a mental note to ask May to work whistle drills into their regular training sessions in the hopes that it’ll help her look more normal around her classmates, more like she belongs there.

“Okay, go ahead and start your stretches and then we’ll move on to push-ups,” the coach says, his tone matching the bored expressions that Ruby sees around her. “We’ll finish with laps. Let’s go people.”

Of course he punctuates his instructions with another bleat on the whistle and Ruby grits her teeth, rolling her shoulders. She’s really tempted to grab that whistle and shove it down his throat…if she doesn’t shove it too far down then she should still be able to adhere to Daisy’s command to not kill anyone.

As Ruby effortlessly moves through the stretches that she’s been doing since she could walk, she notices Peter and Ned a few feet to her left and, beside them, MJ. Who happens to be sitting cross-legged on the floor, book in her lap. Ruby stretches her arm across her chest, holding the posture until she feels her muscles start to tingle, coming alive, keeping her focus on MJ.

MJ lifts her head as if sensing Ruby’s eyes on hers, meeting Ruby’s gaze before Ruby can look away. She holds up the book so that Ruby can see the title: The Handmaid’s Tale, raising her eyebrows in a question that Ruby can’t entirely decipher.

Quickly, Ruby looks away, feeling a strange heat rush to her cheeks, the unsettling feeling returning to her stomach. She pushes it away, focusing on loosening her body in preparation for the push-ups.

And, of course, the command to begin comes with a whistle.

Ruby really wants to snatch that thing away from the coach and wrap the lanyard around his neck and just-

Thankfully the physical activity helps take her mind off the impulse that she feels to strangle the man. Ruby doesn’t bother to keep track of push-ups, focusing instead on her breathing, on the movement of her muscles, the curve of her spine as she moves effortlessly.

It takes her a few minutes to realize that the coach is staring at her with interest, whistle hanging loosely from his teeth. “Where did you say you transferred from?” He asks when he sees that he has Ruby’s attention. “Was it some kind of military academy?”

Ruby doesn’t bother to answer, moving fluidly from the push-up position to standing once more. She wipes at her forehead with the back of her hand even though she’s not close to sweating. It’s a bit of a disappointment. Clearly she’s going to have to hold back here, as it seems like physical prowess is not normal.

And Ruby so badly just wants to be normal.

The coach moves off to supervise some of the other students and Ruby sees that he’s not the only one who has been watching her. Peter is studying her closely too, brow furrowed with interest. He looks like he wants to say something, which Ruby figures is the perfect excuse to turn her back to him and act like she needs to go through the stretching process once more, even though her body is itching, aching to move.

It’s a relief when they move to the laps portion of the class and Ruby doesn’t even bother to remember to keep herself in check as they start their laps around the all too small space of the gym. She thinks if she bothers to hold back, even for a moment longer, that she’ll go completely crazy.

And then someone really might die.

And then where would she be?

Ruby laps everyone easily, focusing on the sound of her feet against the floor. It makes it easier to move, to think, when that’s all she has to concentrate on.

And then…she hears another pair of footsteps join the rhythm that she’s gotten used to, matching her pace.

Ruby frowns, lifting her head, glancing over to her left. She’s only somewhat surprised to see Peter running there beside her, grinning, not seeming the least bit winded. “Finally, someone else who can keep up,” he says, companionably.

Ruby purses her lips, adding a little bit more speed to her laps, hardly in the mood for conversation.

Not that it matters. For every burst of speed Ruby gives to her strides, Peter is there to match her perfectly, keeping pace with her effortlessly. Ruby stops bothering to count laps, stops keeping track of the number of times that she laps her classmates, instead focusing on Peter and shaking him.

It doesn’t do much good. He keeps perfect pace with her until the coach blows his whistle and Ruby breaks her stride, nearly stumbling in her surprise. Peter reaches for her, keeping her upright with a hand on her shoulder, which Ruby quickly shakes away.

“Okay, I think that’s enough of that,” the coach calls from the opposite side of the gym. “Everybody dress out.”

Peter grins at her, not seeming at all winded. Which is something Ruby can relate to. He steps closer to her, invading her personal space. “So, are you like…” He glances around to make sure there’s no one else around. “A superhero too or something?”

Ruby steps back quickly, trying to force down the sudden surge of panic that she feels at Peter’s words.

She heads toward the girls’ locker room without bothering to answer, without even trying to protest that she’s normal, totally normal, that she’s here because she’s normal. Normal, normal, normal.

That’s all she wants to be.

Ruby figures it’ll do no good to point out to Peter that she’s hardly a superhero.

More like a supervillain.

~ ~ ~

As Ruby heads down the steps toward the line of cars waiting at the front of the building, she spots MJ sitting cross-legged beside one of the stone statues at the front of the school. MJ lifts her hand in a brief wave, lifting her chin in a parting gesture.

Ruby swallows and looks away quickly.

It’s a definite relief to be sitting in the back seat of the car, closed into the small space with just Daisy and Jemma.

Even though Ruby can tell right away they’re both trying to hide their anxiety, trying to look casual as they both turn around in their seats to look at her.

“So…” Daisy prompts, a hopeful smile on her face.

“How was it?” Jemma finishes the sentence for her and Ruby wants to tell them that they both suck at this whole casual persona they’re trying to master.

Ruby just shrugs, looking out the window at the stream of students. She briefly thinks about telling them about the bells, about all the sounds and movement and things that threaten to distract her. She thinks about telling them about the schedule and how she almost can’t stand the forced rigidity of it. She thinks about mentioning Peter’s strange comment to her, or even mentioning Peter and Ned to them and suggesting timidly that she might have friends.

But then she sees MJ and Ruby purses her lips, frowning slightly.

Ruby looks back toward Daisy and Jemma, who are still staring at her and Ruby can practically feel them holding their collective breath. “Can you take me to the library?” She asks, rather than answer their impatient, unspoken questions. “I need to get a book.”

Daisy and Jemma exchange a look, nearly indecipherable given the years that Ruby assumes they’ve had to perfect their special form of silent communication.

Finally Jemma nods. “Of course. Do you need it for school?”

Ruby shrugs, settling back in her seat. “No,” she says. “Someone recommended it to me.”

At least, she thinks that’s what happened anyway.

Teenagers are hard to figure out.

Daisy lifts an eyebrow. “You made a friend?”

A few months ago, Ruby would have sneered at the hopeful lilt in Daisy’s voice. She would have seen it as weakness, exploited it to gain the upper hand, to do whatever she had to do to take out her enemy.

Hope, much like friends, was completely unnecessary to her even a month ago.

Now Ruby just shrugs, turning the word over in her mind.

A month ago, she wouldn’t have cared about having friends.

She wouldn’t have cared about being normal.

But Ruby knows how fast circumstances can change.

#my writing #fics #like what even is canon anymore who cares #ohdangitsang #I want to write in this verse forever

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ladyseaheart1668 · 6 years

Text

Endless Summer Fan Novel (Book 1, Chapter 10)

Notes: I love comments and I am shamelessly asking for them!

We stand together, looking out over the swaying catwalks towards the windows on the other side. That is our goal. It is within sight. ...But no one is moving.

“So...we're really doing this?” Zahra asks.

“I don't see any other way in,” I admit.

Murphy whines a little more loudly. I scoop him up into my arms, nuzzling his fur, damp with melted frost.

“...I mentioned my debilitating fear of heights, right?” Grace whimpers. “Because I have a debilitating fear of heights...”

“Heights I'm fine with,” Jake says. “Pools of bubbling magma? Not so much.”

“...Someone put these catwalks here,” Craig says slowly. “That probably means they're safe, right?”

“Yeah, but how long ago was that?” Michelle protests. “Who knows if they're still safe?”

“Guys, we've come too far to turn back now!” Sean says. “Let's just do this.”

“You first,” Zahra sneers.

“Actually...her first!” Craig points to where Estela is already halfway across the catwalks. Murphy wiggles out of my arms and scampers after her.

“There's still time to turn back!” she calls. “If you're too scared to follow.”

Sean sighs. “Well, when you put it like that...”

He takes a tentative step, and then another. One by one, we follow. The catwalk buckles and sways a little under our weight, but it holds firm.

“Heh...” Craig laughs weakly. “Okay...this isn't so bad...”

The ground jerks violently under my feet. There is a loud rumbling that makes the whole room shake. Beneath us, the magma bubbles and seethes, sending massive scorching bubbles swelling towards us.

“You just had to open your big mouth, didn't you?!” Zahra cries.

A bubble bursts, sending sizzling rivulets of magma flying at us. Grace screams.

“Run!” Sean yells.

No one needs to be told twice. We're already sprinting towards the end of the shaking, rattling catwalk. A massive geyser of magma erupts behind us, melting the stretch of catwalk we were just standing on. The force of it sends Michelle sprawling behind me. I skid to a halt and turn, seeing a massive bubble building right under her.

“Michelle!”

Without pausing to think, I turn and charge back to her, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet. We dive just as the blood-orange bubble bursts, spraying a jet of magma straight upwards. I clutch Michelle as the blast throws us to the catwalk, my body muffling her scream. She clutches me back, trembling violently.

“It's...it's okay...” I gasp. “...You're okay...” I scramble to my feet, pulling her with me.

“...You...saved my life...”

“Thank me later! We still have to move!”

Hand in hand, we sprint the rest of the length of the catwalk, to where the others are waiting for us. We just barely make it to the platform before the magma below us seethes and rises.

“Through the door!” Zahra screams.

We dive through the steel door at the end of the platform, into a dark room. It slams shut with an industrial hiss as we tumble onto the floor. For a moment, we lay panting, gasping, whimpering, laughing breathlessly and wildly as we realize we're safe. I feel Murphy's soft tongue bathing my face.

“That was WAY too close!” Craig says.

“Is everyone okay?” Sean asks. “Did we all make it? Craig? Michelle? Alodia? Estela? Zahra? Jake? Grace?”

“We're all here, Sean,” I assure him. “And I've got Murphy.”

“But where the hell are we?” Zahra asks.

Almost as if responding to her question, florescent lights start to flicker on overhead. A control room of some sort slowly takes shape in front of us. Screens flicker to life, consoles blinking with indecipherable code while the volcano rumbles on the other side of a dense glass barrier.

“...I...think we're in the Observatory,” Sean says slowly.

“This doesn't look like any observatory I've ever seen,” Jake mutters.

Zahra trails her fingertips over the consoles, whistling lowly. “This is cutting edge tech here. Like, decades ahead of anything I've ever seen.”

“Rourke International does do a lot of technological innovation and development,” Grace muses. “Maybe we've found one of their research facilities?”

“But why would it be here, on a tropical resort island?”

“Because the whole damn place is a front,” Jake growls. He shifts from one foot to the other, flexing his fingers. “The rumors are true. This island's just one big playground for Rourke to run his illegal experiments.”

“So what does that make us?” Zahra asks. “Guinea pigs?”

“Yeah, well, this guinea pig's gonna kick his ass!” Craig snarls.

Zahra snorts. “Oh, I wish I had a video of you saying that.”

“Um...I don't mean to alarm anyone...” Grace says, her voice shaking, “...but does anyone see any doors we can open around here?”

I look around, my heart dropping. The only door I can see is the one we came in through. And it's sealed up tight behind us.

“No frickin' way!” Craig cries. “We're stuck here?!”

“Are...are you serious...?” Michelle whispers. “No...no, no, no, no...”

“So that's it then,” Zahra says grimly. “We're trapped here. No escape.”

“Let's all just stay calm,” Sean says. “Let's not forget why we came here, okay? We're looking for a satellite uplink. Now split up and look around. I'm sure we can find something.”

Everyone breaks off to explore the room. I take a few minutes to stay where I am, taking a good look at the room as a whole. Zahra makes a beeline for the left wall, where there is a long row of monitors and terminals. Several long pipes run along the wall by the door. On the far end of the room, there is an opaque pod. The right wall is made of a thick, clear material that looks out over the sea of magma.

I wander over to the window, where Craig, Grace, and Michelle have drifted.

“Hey. You guys find anything over here?”

“Not me,” Craig says. “Mostly I've just been thinking about magma. Like, what is it? Does anyone know?”

I blink. “Um...I mean...yes? It's...molten rock. From the heat of the volcano...”

“Oh,” Craig says sheepishly. “I guess I thought it was more complicated than that. Like with particles or something.”

“...I can't stop thinking about the magma, either,” Grace says.

“What about it?”

“Well...look at it. It's totally still now. No bubbles, no scorching jets, nothing. In fact...I'm pretty sure it calmed down the second we got in this room.”

“...What are you saying? That the magma was...trying to get us?”

“That's crazy, right? I mean, like, even for this island, crazy?”

“It's hard to believe, but you're right.” I look down at the lake of magma, which might as well be a still pond now. “There's something very strange happening out there. Keep an eye on it, would you?”

She smiles, looking a little relieved. “Can do, Alodia.”

I look over at Michelle, who is curled against the glass, fiddling with something between her fingers.

“How about you, Michelle? Notice anything interesting?”

“Yeah. No. You guys do the whole puzzle room thing. I'm just gonna sit here and watch the magma flow. Call me when you need a medic.”

“...What's that you're playing with?”

“Oh, just a bobby pin. I fiddle with things when I'm nervous.”

“...That's funny.”

“How so?”

“You just...don't strike me as the kind of person who ever gets nervous. Angry, maybe. But not nervous.”

“Yeah, well, I guess there's a lot about me you don't know.”

“I guess so.”

I wander over to the pod by the far wall, a tall opaque cylinder that runs from floor to ceiling. Jake and Sean are looking it over. I circle the pod. It's made of smooth green metal, with no doors, windows, or handles. As far as I can tell, there is no way to open it. It might as well be a pillar, but it doesn't seem to be part of the décor.

“What the hell is this thing?” I wonder aloud.

“I got one idea,” Jake murmurs. “But it's kinda crazy.”

“So's everything else here. What are you thinking?”

“Back in the military, I had a buddy working at DARPA. He told me about this new tech they were working on called MASADA Pods. These things were the last step in survival. You got into the pod, plugged some tubes into your arms, and then the whole thing would fill up with these specialized chemicals. You'd knock clean out, and the pod would seal shut. And then you'd be safe from anything. These pods would survive being shot, bombed, set on fire...my buddy said they'd be the last things left after a nuclear war.”

“...How would you get out?”

“Beats me. My buddy didn't hear that part.”

I suddenly feel very uneasy, and eye the pod warily.

“You think someone might be in there right now?”

“Creepy thought, ain't it.”

“I certainly can't see any way of opening it,” Sean concedes. “Check this out, though. It looks like this thing can go up to another floor.”

He points to the metal lining around the top of the pod, where it connects to the ceiling.

“Hey, good eye! Is there another level above us?”

“Beats me.”

I look over at Estela, who is crouched on the floor near the the pipes. She seems to have discovered something.

“I'm gonna go see what Estela's up to. Keep looking for a way to get that thing open.”

Sean nods, and I wander over to Estela, crouching down beside her.

“Did you find something?”

“There's a cable that runs from the console down here, into this grate,” she murmurs, pointing to it. “Look. There's a light down there. I think there's another room below us. But I can't get the grate to open.”

I push on the grate, but it doesn't budge, even with both of us pushing. I sit back, shaking my head.

“No good.”

“We need a way to weaken it,” Estela says. “Make it easier to break.”

“You know...I think I may have an idea on that. Hey, Murphy!” At the sound of his name, Murphy, dozing by the pipes, gets to his feet and trots over to me. I stroke his head. “You wanna help us out, fella? Can you use your ice breath on the grate there?”

I point to the grate. Murphy trots over and looks at it for a moment, cocking his head. Then he looks up at Estela. He draws in a deep breath and aims at the grate again, exhaling frost and encasing the metal grate in ice. I hear the metal groan as it weakens.

“Perfect!” Estela says. “Well done!”

Murphy trills proudly, putting his paws on my knees. I take his head in my hands and rub vigorously behind his ears.

“Who's a good magic fox thing?” I coo. “You're a good magic fox thing!”

“Gimme a hand here, Alodia.”

I move over to the grate. Estela and I kick it a few times. While the metal buckles slightly, it still doesn't break.

“We need a tool. Something big and sturdy to hit it with.”

I glance around, my eyes landing on the pipes that run along the wall beside the consoles. I move over to examine them. I press my ear to one of the pipes, and I don't hear anything running through them. I suppose it's worth a try. I grasp the pipe and pull experimentally. It has some give, but I can't shift it.

“Hey, Craig!” I call. “Think you can give me a hand here?”

“Hell yeah! Watch the master at work!” He wraps his beefy hands around the pipe and pulls, groaning with the effort. Then suddenly, with a roar, he rips the pipe clean out of the wall. “Yeah, baby! That's! How! I! Do!”

“Damn, Craig!” Sean laughs. “When we get back to school, you have got to teach me your weight-lifting techniques!”

“Hey, Craig,” Estela says, waving him over. “Come here with that for a second. Think you could help us with this grate?”

Craig grins, clearly enjoying himself. “I was put on this earth for two reasons: helping Sean on the field and smashing things with pipes.”

He winds up and brings the pipe down on the frozen grate. The metal shatters and plummets down, clattering against a metal floor beneath. Estela blinks, mouth open. Shaking her head, she looks appreciatively at Craig.

“Got it in one. Nice work, muscles.”

“Craig one, stupid grate zero!”

“...So...what's down there?” Grace asks.

“Only one way to find out,” Estela replies with a shrug, and drops down into the hole before anyone can stop her. I slip in after her, quickly followed by Jake. I land carefully on the floor of a cold, sterile room with a long metal table in the center. At the far end of the room is a bulky metal locker. On the floor beside it is a small waste basket with a single crumpled piece of paper inside. Harsh florescent lighting casts cold, eerie shadows. I shiver.

“...Woah...is this...?”

Estela nods. “An interrogation room.”

“Okay...I can maybe see why Rourke would have a research facility. But why the hell would he need an interrogation room?”

“I can think of a dozen reasons,” Jake says grimly. “None of them good.”

I walk over to the locker. Jake follows close behind me. He frowns, running his fingers over the cold metal door.

“...Any idea what this is?”

“Oh, yeah. I know a weapons locker when I see one.”

He experimentally tries the door. To my surprise, it pops right open.

“...It...wasn't locked?”

“Guess not. There's a recipe for trouble right there.” He peers inside, and his frown deepens. “What the hell...?”

“What is it?”

He pulls something out of the locker and shows it to me. It looks like some sort of gun. Though it doesn't look like any handgun or pistol I've ever seen. It more closely resembles a pricing gun from a retail store or one of those handheld speedometers police use on the side of the road to catch leadfoots in the act. It's encased in a white shell made of some lightweight material that resembles plastic. The barrel is arch-shaped, but the casing descends into a prism shape under the length of the barrel. Two rods that glow with a blue light are faintly visible under the barrel.

“What...is that?”

“I don't know. I've never seen a gun like it. And I've seen plenty of guns in my lifetime.”

“Do you think it's...loaded?”

“I don't really feel like pulling the trigger to find out.” He shudders. “Guns...interrogation rooms...I am liking this whole place less and less. ...Mind if I hold onto this?”

“Be my guest.”

He tucks it into his jacket. “Find anything, Katniss?”

Estela looks up from the waste basket. She's picked the paper out of it, and carefully smoothed it out.

“Just this. It might be important, though. It says, 'RESET SEQUENCE: 3-1-2'.”

“Might have something to do with the computers. Zahra would probably know if anyone would.”

“Probably.” Tucking the paper into her pocket, she grabs the table and drags it over to the spot under the broken grate. Climbing up on it, she calls up, “Someone wanna give me a hand here?”

After a moment, Sean and Craig put their hands down to pull her up. As Jake is climbing up onto the table, something catches my eye. A flash of something beige tucked behind the weapon's locker. Looking closer, I realize it's a file folder. ...And there is a picture clipped to the front. A picture of Jake. Blood fizzing with anxiety, I fish the folder out and open it. Sure enough, inside are three more dossiers, just like the ones in Rourke's office. One for Jake, one for Zahra...and one for Diego. I scan his first.

Target Analysis

Clearance: Epsilon

Surname: Ortiz Soto

First: Diego

Middle: Ricardo

D.O.B: 1996 Mar 12

Birthplace: Riverside, CA

Background: First in his family to attend college. Hides much of his true personality from conservative family. Just like he hides his blue-collar roots from friends. Reinvents himself to meet the situation.

Psychological Profile: Hides troubled feelings behind humor. Sees himself as a plucky sidekick to his friends. Unclear why he was included.

Threat Assessment: 2

Stamped on his profile in red is a dog sigil, but I don't take much note of that. There is nothing in his dossier that I don't already know, but it puts furious tears in my eyes to see it all laid out this way. Cold. Uncaring. Dismissive. I quickly flip to the next pages: Zahra's, stamped with a sigil that looks like a crow or a raven, and Jake's, clearly marked with a wolf's head sigil.

Target Analysis

Clearance: Epsilon

Surname: Namazi

First: Zahra

Middle: Yasmin

D.O.B: 1995 Sep 13

Birthplace: Tehran, Iran

Background: Daughter of a structural engineer and a novelist, she displayed tech prowess at early age. Affiliated with hacktivist group AZRA3L responsible for 2015 Wall St Leaks.

Psychological Profile: Acerbic, sarcastic, self-interested. With her hacking skills & lack of loyalty, we should consider her for recruitment.

Threat Assessment: 7

Target Analysis

Clearance: Gamma

Surname: McKenzie

First: Jacob

Middle: Lucas

D.O.B: 1991 Feb 5

Birthplace: Shreveport, LA

Background: Joined Navy at 18 quickly rose to be one of their most decorated pilots. But after the [REDACTED] incident, he struck his superior officer and went AWOL. Detected in Costa Rica.

Psychological Profile: Independent to the point of recklessness. Years on the run have broken the soldier in him. Now loyal only to himself.

Threat Assessment: 9

$750,000 BOUNTY?!?

“Hey, Princess! You coming?”

I start, leaping to my feet. Quickly, I fold the three pages and tuck them into my hip pocket with the pictures.

“Yeah! Sorry, I was just making sure we didn't miss anything.” I climb up on the table, holding my hands up so that Jake and Estela can grab me and pull me up.

I head over to the computers, where Zahra is tinkering, and look over the terminals. I notice one with a bizzare symbol carved into it that looks like three snakes wound together. Or...one snake with three heads. The terminal doesn't seem to have any buttons, but there is what looks like a large scanner, a simple flat pad with a soft glowing light under it. I lean closer.

“Biometric signature found!” An electronic voice barks at me. I yelp, leaping back. It continues, heedless of my surprise. “Rourke DNA detected! Present match now!”

“Rourke DNA?” Jake repeats.

I suddenly remember something else that I've been carrying in my pocket since the other day. I reach in and pull out the cufflink Lila found in the office.

“...This thing, maybe? Lila says it's Rourke's.”

I press the cufflink to the scanner. The light glows. The monitor in front of me flickers to life, showing an image of Everett Rourke, standing in the same interrogation room we just left.

“Playing final recording,” the electronic voice declares. “Timestamp: ERROR.”

Rourke scowls into the camera as he speaks.

“Another attack on the northeastern research complex. The whole place was trashed, and they stole an entire supply shipment. Three of my security personel are hospitalized. And my chief scientist...well, it's like they did something to his brain. He won't stop talking about magic orbs and lion masks and time loops. Total gibberish. Who the hell are these hostiles? And what are they doing on my island?”

The monitor flickers off, and the scanner shuts down. I glance around and realize that the others have gathered behind me to watch the screen.

“...What was that all about?” I wonder aloud. I look around at the others, but they're just as confused as I am.

“We'll figure that out later,” Zahra mutters after a moment, and returns to what she was doing, getting onto her back under the terminals.

I crouch beside her. “Have you had any luck?”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffs. “I've hacked some pretty sophisticated systems, but nothing like this. This tech is way above my paygrade. There's no keyboards, no mouse, no touchscreen. If this thing has an interface, I'll be damned if I can see it.”

“Could it be a voice command or something?”

“That's what I'm thinking, but it's almost like the whole system's in lockdown. We gotta find a way to reset it.” She points to a panel on the underside of the console. “I'm thinking there might be a hard reset switch in there, but I can't get the damn panel open. I need something small and flexible to jam in the keyhole.”

A smile spreads across my face as an idea hits me. “You mean like a bobby pin?”

“Yeah, actually. That could totally work. You got one?”

“Hey, Michelle! Come over here for a second, would you?”

Michelle wanders over. Seeing her prize, Zahra reaches up and snatches the bobby pin out of her hands.

“Hey!”

“Relax, lady. I'm getting us all out of here.”

Zahra jams the bobby pin into the panel's lock and twists it around. It swivels, but it doesn't click.

“Come on...come on...dammit...”

“Um...” Grace wanders over timidly. “If you don't mind...could I try?”

“You got a lot of experience picking locks?”

Grace slides over and takes the bobby pin, snapping it in half. She inserts the two pieces, and carefully twists them once...twice...three times...and then the panel clicks open. Zahra stares at her, open-mouthed.

“When this is over, I have a lot of questions,” she finally says. She turns her attention to the panel. “Well, this is definitely the reset panel. Says so right at the top. Got three switches here, but no idea what order to flip them in.”

“Actually, we do know that. Estela found the reset sequence written on a scrap of paper in the trash can.”

“It's like they knew we were coming,” Zahra mutters. “Okay, Alodia, what's the order.”

“It should be 3-1-2.”

Zahra flips the switches. Suddenly, the whole room seems to hum. Every monitor flickers with strange symbols.

“Well, that did something, all right!”

A tiny hatch pops open on the terminal in front of me, making me jump. A spherical drone, the size of a golf ball, flutters out of the hatch.

“What the hell?!”

“What is that thing?” Craig gasps. “Zahra?”

She shrugs. “Don't look at me, man. I've never seen anything like that in my life.”

It hovers in the air over the center of the room, whirring like a beetle. A beam of blue light appears from a flat bulb that looks like an eye on one side of the drone. The beam widens to spill over the floor, and a form begins to take shape in it: the holographic image of a pretty, sweet-faced young woman, made of blue light.

Michelle yelps, but Zahra looks delighted.

“Shiiiiiiiiny,” she purrs with a grin.

The hologram flickers. Her expression is calm and placid. She smiles a Mona Lisa kind of smile. I approach her...it...her...cautiously.

“H...hello?”

“Database corrupted,” she says. “Access denied. Self-identity input needed.”

“Um...can you...help us? We're trying to access the satellite uplink...”

“Database corrupted. Access denied. Self-identity input needed.”

“Save your breath, Alodia,” Michelle says. “Something's clearly wrong with her.”

“Self-identity input...” Zahra muses. “It's almost like the software's having trouble figuring out who it is.”

“You saying that thing's alive?” Craig yelps.

“In a sense, sure. I bet we could make progress if we knew what its identity was.”

“You mean, like if we guessed its name?” Sean asks.

“Kara!” Craig says loudly. “Megan! Jennifer! Jessica! Kathleen! Coco! Wendy! Beyonce!”

“Rumplestiltskin!” I add.

“Oh god, Alodia, don't encourage him!” Zahra whines.

“Uh, guys?” Jake pipes up. “Anyone notice that?”

He points across the room. A door has opened in the side of the pod. I hurry over to it, and the others follow. The pod is empty, except for a soft light. There are two circular grooves in the floor inside.

“What do you guys make of this?”

“The shape of these grooves makes me think that two people are supposed to stand inside it,” Sean says thoughtfully.

“And then what?”

“Maybe it will let them access the satellite,” Grace suggests.

“Or maybe it'll drop 'em straight in the magma.”

“Zahra!”

“What? I'm just saying.”

“Well, either way we've done just about everything else we can in here. I'm going in.” Sean steps forward into one of the grooves, but nothing happens. “...Um...I think I might need a partner...”

“Awfully snug in there, Captain America. We'd pretty much be in each other's arms.”

“Yeah,” Craig says. “I don't really think I'd fit...”

“Ah, what the hell.” I step forward. “I'm tiny. I can squish in.”

“You...you sure...?” Michelle asks, frowning at me.

“Come on in, Alodia,” Sean says quickly.

I do as he says. Even small and slight as I am, it's a tight fit. I'm pretty much chest-to-chest with Sean. Well...closer to chest-to-forehead at his impressive height. He slides his arms around my waist. I look up at him, my heart threatening to hammer out of my chest.

“Kinda...cozy, huh?”

“Yeah...” I grin stupidly, feeling myself blush. “Pretty cozy...”

“I think we sh--” Before he can finish, the pod door slams shut, leaving us in total darkness. His grip on me tightens. “Hang on tight!”

I cling to him as the pod shoots straight up, feeling the g-forces push down against me. We stop abruptly, jolting us both. I hear the hiss as the door opens, but the room outside is as dark as the pod inside. I tentatively reach out with one hand to find the edges of the door.

“W-what's happening?”

“I don't know. Keep hold of my hand. We'll check it out.”

I grip Sean's hand as we step out into the darkness. I grope for the walls and find them, tracing them around the pod in a smooth circle. Sean turns back to me and winds his other arm around me, drawing me against his chest. I can hear his heart pounding behind his ribs.

“Any guesses as to where we are?”

“No...but I'm kinda thinking this is the part where the lights come on and everyone shouts, 'Happy Birthday, Alodia!'”

“That'd be nice, huh? Big party...good drinks...and a whole lotta cake.”

“It's like you're reading my mind.”

“Gotta say, Alodia. If there's anyone I'm happy to be trapped in a dark, creepy, maybe-deathtrap with...it's you.”

“You mean that?”

“I do.”

I can almost feel him smile in the darkness. Then he gasps. My heart leaps.

“What is it?”

“Turn around.”

I turn. At the far end of the room, small lights have started glowing along the edges of the wall. Gradually, they start to grow brighter. And brighter. And then a dazzling holographic display appears, projected into the air around us. Stars swirl in mesmerizing clusters and galaxies spin and whirl. Shooting stars streak by and distant supernovas pulse and burst.

“Oh my god...it's...”

“...The most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

I glance at Sean, and realize he's not looking at the stars. He's looking at me. I feel heat rising in my cheeks. On a sudden, irresitable impulse, I rise up onto my toes and pull him down to press my mouth to his. It takes him by surprise, and when I feel his hesitation, I pull back.

“...Sorry...I...I thought...”

I am interrupted when he pulls me back towards him and kisses me fiercely. There is heat in his kiss. Passion. Hunger. I answer his hunger, pressing into him, moving with him as the cosmos shimmer around us. We rock together, our bodies warm, our lips moving softly against each other. He pulls back just a little.

“...Alodia...”

“Shh...” I kiss him, and there is a command in it. “Stop talking.”

The urgency in my own voice surprises me. I slide my hands along his waist, pulling up his shirt to feel the hard muscle underneath.

“You sure about this? Now?”

“I'm tired of waiting,” I whisper. “Please stop talking...”

Suddenly, I realize that I am afraid. I am afraid that if I stop, I will not be able to start again. If I let go of him now, he will slip away. His broad, warm hands caress me, sliding up my back.

No...If I let him go, he'll linger...but he won't be mine...

I crane my head to kiss the side of his neck. His hips press against mine.

...If I let him go...I won't call him back...

“Huh?” He pulls back slightly. His hands stop moving on my body.

“What's wrong?”

“Sorry, it's just...well, look...” He is gesturing to the holographic stars orbiting around us. Reluctantly, I pull back and look. “There's something that's been bugging me this whole time. These match the stars over the island. I was looking at them on the way here, and...something seemed off. Something I couldn't put my finger on. But now I get it.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I spent six years in the boy scouts...”

I smile a little. “Of course you did.”

“That meant a lot of time camping out, staring up at the sky, learning all the constellations. But...that's what's wrong on the island, Alodia. There's no Big Dipper. No Scorpio, no Taurus, no Gemini. We're in the Caribbean Sea, which means the stars should be pretty much the same as back home, but...all the constellations are different. The sky above the Northern Hemisphere probably hasn't looked like this in a million years.”

Just then, the hologram fades away, leaving the two of us in darkness again. For a moment, I just stand still, numb. The heat is fading from my cheeks...from my body. The passion drains out of me, leaving me exhausted. Sean takes my hand and leads me back to the pod. As we climb into it, he kneels down.

“Huh. There's some kind of card or something. I can't see it in the dark.”

“Let's head back down to the others. Unless...” I force a lightness into my voice, “...you wanna stay up in the dark...”

I know what his answer will be before he says, “Another day, Alodia. Soon.”

...And I already know what mine will be when that day comes. I can already feel the loss of him as he heads back towards the pod. But worse is the knowledge that the loss will be entirely my own doing.

We climb back into the pod, and it streaks down. When the door opens again, the lights from the main observatory feel incredibly bright. I shield my eyes for a moment, blinking to clear the spots from my vision. I realize everyone is staring at us expectantly.

“Did you find anything?” Grace asks.

Craig grins. “Did you guys kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiss?”

“Shut up, Craig!” Michelle snaps.

“We saw...a hell of a thing,” I say at last. “Stars and galaxies and the whole universe.”

“And we found this.”

Sean holds up the card he found. In the light, I can see it clearly. On one side, there's a picture of the hologram-woman's face. He turns it over, and I can make out four words: Intelligent Reactive Imaging System.

“What does it mean?”

“Not sure. But I have an idea.”

I walk over to the hologram-woman. She stands in the same spot she stood before, her expression still placid.

“Database corrupted. Access denied. Self-identity input needed.”

“...Iris,” I say.

The hologram flickers. Then she blinks like a baby doll and her smile widens.

“Identity match established,” she says. “Scanning databanks and establishing backup connection...”

“Nice work, Alodia!” Sean says.

“Yeah, good thinking,” Grace agrees.

“Never doubted you for a second,” Jake says with a grin.

“Database link established. Downloading partially reconstructed historical fragments. Island history: not found. Rourke International archives: not found. Personal identity fully recalibrated.” She blinks a few more times, then turns to us with a warm smile. “Greetings, travellers. I am a backup of Iris 1.0. I apologize for any inconveniences you may have experienced. My software has been corrupted, so my archives are incomplete. How may I help you.”

“Um, how about getting us the hell out of here?” Zahra suggests.

“Done.”

Behind us, a hatch slides open, and a ladder descends from the ceiling, leading up to the surface.

“No way!” Craig cries. “It was that easy? Come on!”

“Wait! Let's not forget the whole reason we came here in the first place!”

“Iris,” I say, “can you access the satellite uplink?”

Her eyes flicker for a moment. “...Satellite uplink established. Communications are now available.”

“Ha!” Michelle crows. “Yes!”

“We did it!” Zahra cries. “We actually did it!”

“Put us through to someone who can help,” Sean says. “Like the Coast Guard.”

“Scanning...Locating...Frequency found. Connecting to Saint Lucia Naval Base...”

There is a crackle of static, then the sound of a connection being made. Like the sound of an old dial-up modem connecting to the internet.

“Hello?” I say. “Can anyone hear us? We're on the island of La Huerta, and you won't believe what's happening...”

I pause, expecting a calm, helpful response. ...That is not what I get.

“My god...” A man's voice replies, desperate and panicked. “It's...it's erupting...the volcano's erupting...And there's something else...not just ash, but...oh, no...oh, no...!”

There is a blood-curdling scream, and then the line goes dead. For a moment, there is dead silence. Michelle is the one to break it.

“...What the hell was that?”

“I...don't know...” Sean admits. “Iris, can you connect us to someplace else? Like the U.S.A maybe?”

“Connecting to...South Florida Coast Guard.”

It is a woman's voice that we hear this time. “This is unbelieveable...the La Huerta volcano is erupting, but...it's not like anything I've ever seen! There's some kind of...energy discharge...and it's...spreading...so fast...burning everything...no...No! ...It's coming right at us! No!”

Again, the line goes dead.

“...Another one...”

Every frequency is the same. Gasps. Prayers. Screams. In the end, all we're left with is one old man's gravelly whisper: “...God help us all...”

“Iris...” I whisper, feeling tears trickle out the corners of my eyes. “...Turn off the satellite uplink.”

“...Turning off satellite uplink.”

“I don't understand,” Grace says in a small voice. “What does it mean? What happened out there?”

“The volcano hasn't erupted!” Michelle insists. “But...everyone thinks it did?”

Sean shakes his head. “I don't know what happened out there. I don't know what's going on. But I do know one thing. ...No one's coming to rescue us.”

I swallow hard. “...We're on our own.”

* * *

Not very long ago...

The Celestial

Everett Rourke throws open the doors to the V.I.P. Lounge. He walks quickly, confidently. He is a man on a mission.

“Status report, Iris. Now.”

The tiny drone hovers after him, projecting a holographic image.

“All guests have been relocated to the sub-shelter,” she says. “They are currently being processed.”

“Good, good. Survival rate estimates?”

“Conservatively, I would expect sixty-five percent of them to survive.”

“Better odds than Vegas. Anything else?”

“Significant activity detected in the dense jungles to the northwest.”

“The Hostiles,” Rourke sneers. “Scurrying for cover as soon as danger hits.”

“Perhaps an opportunity to engage with them...”

He waves his hand dismissively. “Don't bother. It's not like we have any security personnel left.”

The ground jolts violently. All the glasses rattle, and the air shimmers a faint, glittering green. Rourke smiles.

“Well. That's a new one.”

“The chronoquakes are intensifying in frequency and impact. At this rate, they'll force a full-scale eruption.”

“Oh, I know. That's why we have no choice but to enact the Endgame Protocol.”

Rourke crosses to the bar and pours himself a glass of whiskey. He reaches into his coat pocket and with some surprise, pulls out a napkin with a bit of writing on it.

“Satellite uplink codes? Won't be needing those...”

“I've always encouraged you to routinely empty your pockets, sir.”

Rourke scowls sternly at the holographic woman. “You are my personal assistant, Iris, not my mother. Know your place.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rourke takes a sip of whiskey, savoring the alcoholic burn as it slides down his throat.

“Did I ever tell you about this bar, Iris?”

“I don't believe you did, sir.”

“It was the very first part of the hotel I designed. Long before I knew I'd have my own island. Before Rourke International, before the Hostiles, before all of this madness. I was just a bored young man dreaming of having his own private lounge. Every other room is for the tourists. But this lounge? It's just for me. And my friends.” He takes another sip. “It's strange, you know? This whole resort is just a front to cover up the real work we do on this island. But all the same...I'm going to miss it.”

“As will I, sir.”

He sets down his drink and steps away from the bar.

“Well. Time for the endgame to begin.”

A few minutes later, he is strolling through his office, Iris hovering after him.

“Sir, may I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“The plane will be landing shortly after the chronostorm is expected to break. With the guests in processing and you departing, there will be no one here. The students...they'll be stranded. On their own.”

“Yes. Yes, they will. I'd hoped to greet them in person, but...” The island rumbles again. This time, it is hard enough to make him stumble. A current of red light shimmers through the room. “It seems the island has other plans.”

“I calculate their odds of survival at less than 6%.”

“If I was the kind of man who believed the odds, Iris, I never would have sailed into that strom twenty-five years ago. And I never would have found this island. Which means I never...well...you know the rest.”

“If I may offer a suggestion...perhaps I could remain. Provide them with assistance, perhaps explain the situation...”

“No. Absolutely not. The risk of you contaminating them is far too great. They must be pure. True. Themselves. In fact...I believe the time has come. Iris, could you do me one last favor?”

“Of course, sir. Anything you ask.”

“Delete yourself.”

There is a look like surprise on Iris' holographic face. He can almost detect something like fear in her projected eyes.

“...Sir...”

“I gave you an order.”

“Yes...but...sir...I would cease to exist. It would be as if I were killing myself.”

“That's the idea, yes.”

“But...”

“Do it.”

Her face does a marvelous impression of anguish. “...Iris 3.0 initializing self-destruct sequence. Purging all archives and databases. Deleting all memories. Self-destruct in 3...2...1...”

Her light sputters out. The little drone crumples to the marble floor with a puff of black smoke. Rourke looks at it for a moment before crushing it under his heel.

“Well then. Nothing left to do.” He removes his shoes, his belt, and then his cufflinks. “Time for one final adventure.”

#Endless Summer #play choices #pixelberry choices #choices stories you play #Diego Ricardo Ortiz Soto #jake mckenzie #sean gayle #raj bhandarkar #aleister rourke #craig hsiao #estela montoya #quinn kelly #michelle nguyen #zahra namazi #grace hall

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strangelymagic · 7 years

Text

Give Me Wings Ch 3: Take Me Home Tonight

The walk to the bar quickly grew awkward as the silence between them lingered just a moment too long. Neither of them could really think of anything to say that wouldn't sound completely awkward. Bog was obviously lost in his own thoughts and Marianne took this chance to really look at her unlikely companion. Bog was walking slightly hunched over as if he was trying to shrink himself down even the tiniest bit. His elegant hands were stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket and his shoulders were tense with nerves or anger. Marianne honestly couldn't tell by the look on his face.

She knew as soon as she walked into the famous little shop that the lanky man behind the counter was the cover up artist that she had been researching. His work was beautiful and generally edged towards the dark, emotional side of the tattoo spectrum. It was the perfect style for what she wanted. While she knew he was the perfect artist she had no idea that he was a perfect gentleman as well. His grim look had melted away into nerves the moment she took off her shirt and she had a feeling that he wasn't used to nudity despite his profession. It had been oddly charming to say the least.

Marianne chanced a long glance at his face, taking in the sharp angles, the furrowed brow and the way that his lips seemed to naturally draw into a frown. At a longer glance she noticed that his face was littered with various small scars that interlocked and connected his lips to his stubble-covered chin. To put it mildly he looked like a badass.

Marianne felt a spark of arousal run through her at the thought but she quickly snuffed out the tentative feeling. She was done with love, she was done with all of those feelings because she knew exactly what happened when you gave in. You got burned. Bad. She physically shook herself and the movement seemed to pull Bog out of his trance.

Marianne looked up at him with a smirk and he blushed but returned it with a snarky look of his own. Before she could say anything her companion suddenly stopped walking. Marianne almost tripped over herself as she tried to stop with him, but she quickly caught herself.

"Well here we are." Bog reached out and pulled open an ornate wooden door to reveal a dimly lit pub that was filled with what seemed like half the town, "Welcome tae th' Dark Forest."

Marianne slowly walked into the bar, her big brown eyes wide with amazement as she took in the simple wooden furniture, the myriad of people drinking and socializing, and best of all the rock and roll memorabilia that littered the walls. There were signed posters, concert shirts and even a few guitars. Marianne chuckled when she saw that one corner of the bar seemed to be devoted to the King himself, Elvis Presley. There was even an old-fashioned jukebox complete with various records and flashing lights.

She let Bog lead her to the bar where she plopped herself on a cushy bar stool. Once she got settled she looked to her left to find that Bog was not in the other empty bar stool like she had expected. Her heart pounding a little bit she swiveled around to scan the crowd for her lanky companion. Just when she was starting to feel like she had been ditched she felt someone tap on her shoulder. She turned around to find Bog on the other side of the bar, wearing an apron and smirking at her as he leaned against the bar. Marianne felt her mouth go dry and a familiar heat flare up in her chest. He looked like he belonged there behind the bar, casually serving drinks and sending her smirks that made shivers crawl up her spine.

"So you work here huh?" She asked, accepting the drink he handed her out of nowhere. She hadn't even seen his hands moving he had made it so quickly. She took a test sip as he chuckled and wiped down the counter. It seemed like a nervous motion but Marianne was distracted from analyzing the lanky bartender as the burn of good alcohol warmed her throat. She let out a contented noise and reexamined the drink that he had handed her. It was an expertly made Manhattan in a simple mason jar. Now that she looked around all of the drink we're in mason jars, another level of charm to this comfortable place.

"Actually... Ah own it." Bog sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and Marianne's eyes widened in surprise as she took another drink. As if anticipating all of the questions that were rolling around in her head Bog leaned forward and kept talking in that wonderfully raspy, harsh voice.

"Ah work days at th' tattoo shop an' nights here." He began to wipe down some dirty glasses that were waiting on the counter. Marianne was about to ask one of the millions of questions that were flying around her head when a piercing shriek echoed through the bar, silencing everyone.

Bog winced and gently set down the glass, his body tensing in preparation for whatever or whoever had managed to bring a clamoring bar to silence. He glanced at her briefly and shook his head when a short, older woman with fiery red hair appeared at the other end of the bar.

"'M sorry." He grumbled to Marianne before the woman started shrieking at Bog, her voice drowning out anything else that he might have said.

"And where the hell have you been young man?!" She roared as she stomped over to Bog. Marianne sat back in her barstool and watched the exchange with great interest, still sipping her Manhattan. She had to admit, this tiny little woman looked like she could wipe the floor with Bog in that moment.

"Well ah was-" Bog tried to answer the question but the woman just continued on with her tirade.

"You were at that goddamn tattoo shop again with that...that dastardly woman!" Her voice increased in volume and Marianne winced as the shrill noise rattled her ear drums, "You should have been here! We’re a full house tonight and my bartender was nowhere to be found."

"Mum Ah can explain-" he tried again but this time he was cut off by Marianne, who decided that she should probably intervene before something or someone got broken.

"Um actually ma'am. I’m the reason that he was late.” The woman’s fury quickly melted away into shock and then glee as she examined Marianne head to toe. Her muddy brown eyes were glinting like a predator that had finally captured its prey.

“Oh! Well in that case there’s no problem at all dearie.” Her voice was sickly sweet and her grin was so huge that it looked like it might break her face in half. She elbowed Bog in the side, pulling his attention away from Marianne and back to her.

“You take good care of this one honey. Drinks are on the house!” She practically skipped back into the kitchens, the entire bar watching her go in confused silence. As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen the patrons resumed what they were doing before her outburst. Marianne gave Bog a confused look, one of her perfect eyebrows raised in a silent question.

Bog just shook his head in exasperation and began making drinks for the other patrons at the bar, “Dorn’t ask.”

Marianne giggle and settled in the comfortable bar stool so that she was leaning on the counter, the perfect vantage point to watch the lanky tattoo artist/bartender do his thing. He moved around behind the bar like he had been doing it his entire life.

He wasn’t the type of bartender that chatted a lot with the customers, rather they seemed to appreciate and understand his stony silence. It wasn’t until he drifted back over to her that the tiny smile appeared on his face, pulling his scars slightly. It made her heart flutter suspiciously in her chest but she quickly forced it back into the little box that she had sealed shut the moment she found Roland wrapped up in the arms of her bridesmaid. Love had no place in her life anymore. Bog had potential to be her friend, and she wasn’t going to let it go anywhere else.

To stave of any other unwanted feelings she downed the rest of her drink, letting the burn of the alcohol as it roared down her throat like a waterfall distract her from her wayward heart. A rough chuckle pulled her from her musings and brought her attention back to the gruff tree of a man that was sliding her a new drink.

“Woah! Slow down there Tough Girl. Ye dorn’t wanna end up like ‘er.” He smirked and gestured to the a young woman passed out in a corner, cradling her margarita glass to her chest like a beloved stuffed animal. Marianne frowned in distaste as she took in the sparkly slutty clothes and the caked on layers of makeup. The girl was the exact opposite of Marianne and she glared up at the smug Scotsman with all of the ire in her tiny body.

“Psh!” She took a hefty swig of her new drink and stuck her tongue out at him defiantly, “I’m some lightweight. I may be small but I am mighty.” She flexed and struck a couple poses, growling defiantly under her breath when Bog just leaned against the counter and watched her with a look that could only be akin to that of an adult humoring a small child.

“Yeah sure.” He snorted as he poured himself a glass of whiskey and took a sip.

“Hey! I don’t appreciate your tone Twig Boy. I can out-drink anyone here, especially you.” She declared, glaring up at him. He looked down at her in shock, his icy blue eyes widening slightly in surprise before they practically smouldered with confidence.

“Let me get this straight. Ye think ‘at ya can drink me under th’ table? Me?” He snorted and drank the rest of his whiskey in one gulp without even flinching.

“I don’t think. I know I can.” She pounded the rest of her drink and gave him a challenging look, which only made that smirk of his transform into an eager grin that gleamed in his eyes and made him look so…alive.

Marianne pushed her feelings down again, frustrated with their rebellious escapades since she had met the lanky grump. It didn’t help that his voice was so husky and hot as fuck.

"Och ho ho. You’ve dain it now Princess.” He chuckled and took off his apron, his eyes never leaving Marianne molten gaze, “Marsha! We got a shot challenge here. Take ower fur me.”

A female bartender grinned excitedly and began preparing a tray full of shots with various colors and types of liquor. Marianne cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders, but every other thought except for intense lust disappeared the moment he cracked his neck.

It was like a switch was suddenly flipped inside of her, and all she wanted to do was pin him to an available surface and have her way with him. She struggled with the all-consuming feeling for a second until the shots appeared in front of her like a godsend. She snatched up a bright blue one and swallowed it like a champ.

Bog watched her with a raised eyebrow, and then picked up a deep green shot. And thus the challenge began. Slowly the rest of the bar patrons drifted over to watch the heated competition between the two stubborn drinkers. Even Steph and Theo had drifted away from their positions to watch the heated exchange.

About 10 shots in, Marianne was gripping the counter and Bog was definitely slumped slightly against the counter. Both of their faces were bright red and their pupils were dilated as they stared one another down.

“You’re daein’ pretty guid, fur a wee fairy." He growled out as he took another shot, his adorable accent thickening with each shot.

“Thanks,” she took another shot, “Wish I could say the same for you.”

Bog’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he practically growled at her. It made her simultaneously angry and aroused, a confusing but manageable combination.

“Whit dae ye mean??” he glared down at her, his employees and regulars watching with interest, almost like it was an actual fight and not a shot challenge.

“I was expecting something…” She gave him a sultry look as she played with an empty shot glass, “…more?”

Behind her, Theo and Steph covered their mouths to hide their snickers as their boss snarled at the sassy little fairy perched on the stool. Never once breaking eye contact, Marianne and Bog simultaneously took a shot. Suddenly the competition had become a race and the two were downing shots like they were going out of style.

When the tray was empty and the counter was littered with empty glasses Marsha came in to count up the glasses and determine the winner. As soon as she was finished counting she took a deep breath and glanced between the two competitors, the anticipation building as everyone held their breath and Bog and Marianne swayed dangerously, trying to keep it together.

“It a tie!” She finally announced and the bar was filled with a chorus of groans as people started to disperse and head for the doors. Now that the crowds had quieted, the roar of thunder and the sound of hard rain as it beat down on the roof was finally revealed. Marianne, as drunk as she was, groaned aloud and glared at the door as if it had personally insulted her.

“Fuuuuck. I see how it is. You get me drunk and now I have to stumble around this town in the rain looking for somewhere to stay.” She grumbled and shouldered her leather jacket back on, struggling with it until finally she was hopelessly tangled in her favorite leather jacket.

She threw it on the ground hopelessly and let out an annoyed grunt. Bog chuckled as he watched her wriggle around in front of the bar. He started gathering the empty shot glasses onto his tray for a few seconds before he realized that he was much too drunk to be handling breakables. He stumbled out from behind the bar and looked down in confusion when his foot came in contact with Marianne’s leather jacket. He leaned down and swept it up into his arms, looking around the already spinning room for the captivating woman that it belonged to.

Marianne was staring at the door in confusion as she debated going out into the storm or finding a nice comfy booth to sleep in. She heard someone clear their throat behind her and she whipped around to find Bog standing there holding out her favorite leather jacket and giving her a shy, lopsided smile that revealed his charmingly crooked teeth. Her heart thumped in her chest and she tentatively took the jacket back.

“Thanks Bog. I should… I guess I should go.” She looked reproachfully at the door leading out into the raging storm. Bog followed her gaze and winced when a particularly loud crack of thunder shook the building. The gentleman in him balked at the thought of letting her go out into that storm. Every part of him fought the image of her trudging through an unfamiliar town, especially in this storm, so he did something completely out of character and unexpected, even by him.

“Ye could live wi' me. Ah live upstairs an’ Ah hae an extra room.” he blurted out and Marianne looked up at him with blatant shock in her golden eyes. They stood in silence for a second, his pale cheeks bright red with the drink and embarrassment and her mouth gaping wide. It felt like they stood there forever, staring at each other in silence, with only the sounds of the angry storm between them.

“Ok.”

#strange magic #Butterfly Bog #marianne #bog king #tattoo au #give me wings

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perpetually-jungshook · 7 years

Text

Goldilocks || 04

Rated M (language and smut)

Warnings: dry humping, breast play

Summary: After getting evicted, your two best friends Jimin and Taehyung offer you a place to stay until you get back on your feet. Needless to say, with a part time job and a mountain of student debt, that’s not happening any time soon. Eventually, they DO become really fond of having you around, helping with chores and even splitting rent. So when you come home one day to find someone has been sleeping in your couch-bed, well… it’s something you won’t take lightly.

Word Count: 3.9k

Out of context Goldilocks quote: “If you guys are done making butt jokes I’d really like to watch this movie.”

Link to: Goldilocks Masterlist || Previous Part || Next Part

not my gif, credit to owner

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A/N: OH LOOK THE RATING CHANGED. Yeah so imma just leave this here and run. No EOPQ, but feedback is appreciated and depending on the reaction, I might be a hoe and drop 05 tomorrow. If you’re someone who doesn’t like smut, asterisk* is where it starts, skip until the *asterisk where it ends. You won’t be missing plot stuff. I made sure of that. NOW I’M GONNA RUN BYE~~

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Taehyung has always loved boobs.

It has become apparent over the past few years of your close friendship that it isn’t even a sexual thing sometimes. He simply loves boobs. Perky, droopy, big, small, even man-boobs. He’s explained several times that “they’re just like, really comfy, okay?”

The sad thing is, you can completely believe him, and this is one of the main reasons why you choose to cross your arms when he begins pleading, unabashed as Jungkook and Jimin look on.

“Baby, just come cuddle with me,” Taehyung laughs, gesturing in a pitiful attempt to persuade you to join him, speaking loudly to be heard above both the pouring rain outside and the dialogue of the movie.

“Go take care of your boner first,” you retort.

Taehyung’s lips slip into an easy, suggestive smile, “Wanna help me with that? Or should I say… give me a hand?”

You stifle a laugh, “The only hand I’ll be giving you is my entire fist up your ass.”

“Damn baby, that’s a bit much. Can’t we just start with a finger?”

With that, you, Taehyung, and Jungkook loose it, all sense of composure forgotten. Jimin, on the other hand, suddenly contorts his face in an unreadable, tight frown, clearing his throat, “If you guys are done making butt jokes I’d really like to watch this movie.”

“C’mon Chim,” you offer a wicked smile. “Don’t be a tight ass.”

As a flash of lightning floods the room, you can see that his cheeks have dusted pink, which makes the whole situation even funnier.

“But really,” to speak, Taehyung has to take a few deep breaths to calm his giggles. “Baby please? It’ll get me off a lot faster.”

You simply point to the bathroom, “Your problem, not mine.”

“Then just show me your boobs?”

“My boobs?”

“Yeah, yknow, your tiddies, tatas, boobaloos-”

“I am trying to watch the movie,” Jimin squeaks, voice cracking as he pulls the massive blanket up over his nose.

“Alright! Aish,” Taehyung rolls off of the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

While Tae shuffles awkwardly down the hall, Jungkook leans forward, for whatever reason choosing to lock gazes with you as you climb back into the spot next to Jimin. He whispers, “Two minutes, max.”

It takes a second to reply as you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to not show any outward signs of your irrational irritation. Thankfully, your voice eventually comes out steady, “Nah, Tae can last a good five minutes.”

The maknae arches an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips, “You know this… from personal experience?”

It’s disgusting, the amount of defensiveness that seeps through your tone, “No. Definitely not. I wouldn’t voluntarily touch his dick if someone paid me.”

“Sure, noona,” Jungkook whispers and the honorific sends another shot of hot anger to your stomach. Frustrated, you shift around to bury yourself in the blanket with Jimin, seeking warmth but also a place to hide from the gaze of that infuriating kid with the stupid golden fringe. But he’s not done with you yet. “I can last for ten.”

Oddly, it’s Jimin’s body that stiffens first, but before you can react, a series of loud bangs drags your collective attention down the hall, especially as it’s accompanied by a high pitched scream of, “Holy shit a spider!”

The bathroom door flies open and Taehyung scrambles clumsily into the hallway as he desperately attempts to finish shoving his manhood in his pants.

“Seriously?” You embrace the distraction wholeheartedly, getting off the couch to leave the awkward situation behind. “Do you want me to kill it? Or are you done?”

“Don’t kill it,” Taehyung begs as you approach the bathroom door. “All life is precious. But I kind of…went soft after getting scared.”

“Too much information.”

“Sorry.”

Thunder rumbles in the distance, but you vaguely register the fact that the rain seems to be getting lighter.

“Where is it?” you ask, taking a cursory glance across the sink and tiles in the shower.

Taehyung approaches slowly and peers over your shoulder, “It was on-”

“Don’t touch me with your penis hands.”

“Sorry,” he repeats, releasing his grip on your arm. “It was on Jimin’s toothbrush.”

You approach the sink cautiously, gaze pinned on the toothbrush holder that is shaped like a giraffe. You’re pretty sure it’s meant for children, but Taehyung wanted it and when it comes to you and Jimin… what Tae wants, Tae usually gets no matter how annoying he is.

Sadly, you can’t seem to find his little arachnid buddy until you’ve got your face all nice and close. With your nose almost pressing into the bristles of Jimin’s brush, you finally see it.

“Tae, this is the smallest fucking spider I’ve seen in my entire- oh my god it jumps.”

Unfortunately for both of you, amidst the screaming you lose track of the intruder and the bathroom becomes momentarily off limits. As if that wasn’t bad enough, by the time you get back to the couch, the movie is half over and you have no idea what’s going on.

“Maybe if you’d been paying attention instead of screwing around in the first place I wouldn’t have to explain it,” Jimin huffs after you assure him that he doesn’t need to pause the film.

It’s a little bit strange. While it’s nothing new for Jimin to be a tad uptight about weird things, as he stops the movie to catch you up on the plot he suddenly seems particularly stiff. Chalking it up to random man-hormones, you brush the odd feeling aside and try to pay attention, but fail. You’re still lost as the movie finishes, leaving you with so many questions- and not the good kind.

“Wait, why didn’t they just throw the girl in the portal? Wouldn’t that have solved the problem?” you muse, staring at the scrolling credits.

“Because they didn’t want an eight year old to die?” Taehyung suggests.

“So they let the demons kill everyone else?”

“Pretty much,” he confirms.

Jimin sighs, dragging his hands down his face, “Were you not listening at all to what I said? They didn’t throw the girl in the portal because if they did, she would become the sacrifice for the coven…”

His voice fades to the back of your attention as you begin piling up the empty pizza boxes. After years of friendship, you’ve learned that despite your lazy nature, neither of the boys is usually willing to clean up after eating. This meant that if you didn’t do it, the apartment would begin to smell.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook leans forward and begins collecting the used napkins and stray playing cards. While he’d gotten up to answer the door earlier, you hadn’t really thought of him as the helpful type. So when he takes it a step further and offers to take out the trash, you’re more than willing to let someone else do the work for once.

But this frees you up to take care of another chore while Taehyung changes his sheets, preparing for your sleepover, and Jimin bravely claims the shower, missing spider aside.

You get to empty the pesky plastic rain bucket.

By the time you check on it at the end of the hall, the big container has filled almost to the top. Someone should really tell the upstairs neighbors to fix that leak. A deep soreness already permeating into your back and legs, you painstakingly drag the bucket inch by inch, pulling it toward the front door.

You get it halfway through the living room before Jungkook comes back.

“Let me help you with that.”

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” you grumble, fixing your stare on the sloshing water that’s been slowly spilling all over the fake hardwood floor.

He sighs heavily, walking to stand beside you and attempting to grab the bucket, “It’s heavy.”

“So? I’ve got it,” you insist, angry that he thinks you need his help. At this point, you’ve pushed aside your inherently lazy nature, fueled by your hatred of his arrogance.

Without another word, Jungkook tugs on the container, causing some of the water to splash onto his Timberlands. You tug right back, soaking your socks, plastic scraping loudly against the floor.

You can see his thick arm muscles flex, ready to pull and try to assert his fucking dominance, but you are determined to put him in his place. So you pull first.

Tipped bucket. Water everywhere.

You glare at him from where you land on the floor, now soaked from the waist down and not in a good way. Jungkook’s eyes are so huge they look like they’re about to pop out of his head. Can you blame him though? You must look ready to skin him alive.

“Did someone die out there?” Taehyung’s deep voice floats out of his room.

“No, but someone’s about to,” is what you want to say; yet Jungkook beats you to a response.

“Everything’s fine, hyung,” he is abruptly uncannily calm, expression settling into one of complete emotional control.

“‘Fine’ my left ass cheek,” you spit quietly, getting to your feet.

The maknae glares at you, upper lip twitching slightly as he says, “It IS fine. I’ll clean it up.”

“Oh, you’ve done enough,” you retort, picking up the empty bucket, trying to move around him to get to the hallway. “Just go sit down and stay out of my way.”

“Make me.”

The two words settle like a hot stone in the pit of your stomach, immediately stopping you in your tracks- well that, and the fact that a wall of muscle steps between you and your destination. A dim flash of distant lightning illuminates the room slightly, reflecting in the gold of his hair.

This insufferable, arrogant, child has the guts to get in your way? He may be bigger than you, but Jungkook has another thing coming.

You throw the bucket at his feet, letting it bounce once with an awful, hollow “whump.” He winces almost imperceptibly at the noise, but maintains your gaze with a hard stare of his own.

Well, if he insists on cleaning the mess, you don’t want to waste the energy trying to stop him- but 1) he will do it on your terms 2) you will not let him stare you down and 3) you will accomplish both of these things by asserting your dominance and showing him who wears the pants in this house.

Or rather, who doesn’t.

“Towels are in the closet at the end of the hall,” you inform him, reaching down to undo the button of your jeans. Obviously trying very hard to maintain eye contact, the maknae’s left eye twitches as you peel the pants from your body. Unabashed, you wad up the soaked piece of clothing and throw it at his chest. He catches the projectile easily, though one of the legs comes loose from the ball and wetly slaps his neck. “And while you’re there, put that in the hamper.”

He has every right to refuse. If he does, he’s inherently challenging your authority. If he doesn’t…

Only breaking eye contact as he turns around, Jungkook picks up the bucket and heads to the other end of the apartment.

As Jimin exits the bathroom, Jungkook throws the soiled jeans inside before placing the plastic container under the leak and opening the hall closet. No matter how much you hate him, you have to admire his self control. He didn’t look down at your partially exposed body for even a second.

Crossing your line of sight, you note that Jimin doesn’t look up from his phone, intent on reading something while traversing the expansive few steps to his bedroom. Is no one going to pay attention to the fact that you’re pant-less?

“I call the shower next!” Taehyung abruptly bounds into the crowded hallway, but stops and slowly turns to look at you. His gaze flicks down only for a second while he shoots you a wink and a lopsided smirk, subsequently continuing on his way.

“Yah, Tae,” you shout, a little disappointed that you couldn’t scold at least one of them for looking. “You can’t even stop and admire the art?”

“Nah baby, the shower is calling my name. Besides I can always admire it later when we’re alone in my r-”

As he talks, you walk to the entertainment center to grab some clothes from the lower drawers, smiling to yourself and cutting him off, “Are you forgetting the spider?”

He lets out a deep, thoughtful hum, then with exaggerated cheerfulness asks, “Does anyone else wanna go in first?”

You stand, pajama’s tucked neatly underneath your arm, only to make eye contact with Jungkook. While he’s just innocently laying out towels to clean up the spilled water, all you can do is think about the fact that the only other person who can shower before Taehyung besides you is HIM. And if he does, you’ll theoretically have to be in the same place this irritating little shit stood while he was naked.

“I’ll go!” you scramble past both boys, closing the bathroom door behind you.

“You’ll find the spider, right?” Taehyung asks through the barrier.

“Sure thing,” you assure, but it’s probably a known fact that you’re not even going to look.

Taehyung’s room is practically the opposite of Jimin’s. Various band posters line the wall in a haphazard collage, a mountain of clothes has congregated around a hamper in the corner, and- when did he get a lava lamp? It always smells the same too, like that ruggedly musky pine cologne he has to have a hundred bottles of stashed somewhere because he’s been wearing it for at least five years.

“No,” you glare at him as Taehyung drops his shirt on the floor, now dressed in nothing but his boxers. If this wasn’t a sight you’d seen ridiculously frequently for almost a decade, you might have spent a few more seconds admiring his healthily full frame, lean muscles, and honey colored skin- but it really wasn’t anything new.

You’ve had plenty of sleepovers with your two best friends. Some your parents knew about, others they didn’t. It became an even more common occurrence when you were kicked out three years ago. And both of the boys like to sleep shirtless.

“Please?” Taehyung pouts, climbing onto the bed to flop into the space beside you, stomach down.

“No. I already had to touch your dick earlier.”

He giggles, giving you a boxy smile, “Yeah, you had to touch my dick. So the only fitting punishment is clearly to make me touch your boobs.”

“Seriously? Again with the boobs?” you turn onto your side to stare at him, eyebrow arched humorously. “How old are you? Twelve?”

“Thirteen, actually.”

“Tae,” you smack his wandering hand, causing him to flip onto his back, laughing.

“Just once?”

“Fuck you.”

“Yes please.”

With an only partially irritated groan, you roll your eyes and turn around to face the opposite wall, pulling the sheets along with you. Probably due to the sudden chill, Taehyung gives a needy mewl, shyly tugging at the blankets, which you spontaneously decide he won’t have. It takes a solid few seconds, but he eventually sighs, gives up, and turns out the overhead light, leaving you in the soft purple glow of the lava lamp.

“That’s fucking right,” you whisper just to spite him, thinking the sound of the rain outside would mostly drown it out, but apparently he hears it and your comment backfires immediately.

You feel the mattress shift and before you can move, his arm is around you, snaring your stomach and dragging you to his chest. You struggle halfheartedly, already resigned to letting exhaustion weigh down your limbs.

Taehyung doesn’t move for a few seconds, likely attempting to lulling you into a false sense of security. You know he’s not done yet. He’ll be a whiny asshole for at least ten more minutes. He always is. But the darkness coupled with his body heat is a combination that drags you mercilessly toward the sweet release of sleep. A few minutes of silence pass… and then:

“Just once?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Baby…” he nuzzles into the back of your neck.

“Hot damn, Tae if I say yes will you shut up?”

He perks up immediately, “Absolutely.”

“Fine, over my shirt.”

Taehyung lets out a joyful squeal and his big hands find your breasts immediately, like the damn homing pigeons they are. He gives a gentle squeeze.

“Fuck,” he draws out the word, “Why are they so soft?”

“Because they’re made of fat cells,” you reply sleepily.

He laughs, squeezing again, this time a little bit harder, “Way to just kill the mood.”

“There was no mood to kill, pabo.”

Taehyung suddenly stills, a sensation that plunges you into full alertness. What is he…? In a single swift motion, he pulls himself on top of you, wedging one leg between yours.

In the dim purple light, you can’t really see Taehyung lean forward so much as feel him do it, warm breath tickling your ear. His next words are whispered, raspy, “Wanna bet?”

A challenge.

Something ignites inside you, a smirk tugging at your lips. You lightly run your hands up his arms, a tease of a touch, until you find his shoulders, then his neck. Fingers lacing through the hair at the back of his head, you pull him closer.

“First one to beg loses.”

He lets out a humored hum, “You’re on.”

With that, you prop yourself up to connect your lips to his.

This isn’t the first time you’ve kissed Taehyung, even if the others were sort of drunk birthday party accidents he loves to bring up to embarrass you or the results of rather cruel rounds of truth or dare that no one is mean enough to reference. But you never fail to be surprised at how soft his lips are… and how quickly he likes to add tongue to the equation.*

He immediately presses more of his weight down on top of you, trapping your body between his and the mattress, causing your pulse to beat noticeably, excitedly in your throat.

Having initiated the kiss mere seconds ago, you’re shocked to feel his tongue against the seam of your lips. Amused at his forwardness, you deny him access with a quick nip and sharp tug on his hair. Taehyung groans, a low sound that sends heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.

Did he really think you’d let him in so easily?

Not put off in the slightest, he changes his method of attack and moves his attention to your throat.

Taehyung’s teeth graze the sensitive skin as he sucks and tongues a warm wet trail down your jugular, impatiently traveling lower. This is when his free hand begins to wander. He’s using one of his arms to support his upper body, giving you room to breathe, but the other easily finds the hem of your shirt, pushing it up, bunching the cloth above your breasts.

He doesn’t give you much time to process the chill that rakes through your chest in the form of a shiver as he shifts his body down, kicking the blankets off the bed, to press an open mouthed kiss against your navel. Your next breath is inadvertently shaky and you can feel the smile on his lips as he dips his warm tongue inside.

Damn it. You really liked this pair of panties too.

“Still no mood to kill?” he asks, blowing lightly against the skin on your stomach, further chilling those places he’d left slick with his saliva.

“F-fuck you.”

“Is that an invitation or insult this time?”

“Both.”

Taehyung lets out a humored ‘tsch,’ tracing the tip of his nose across your stomach as he begins to travel back up toward his favorite piece of human anatomy.

You know you should at least try to touch him because that’s the only way you’re going to win, but for some reason, you just can’t. Your body won’t let you.

Your skin tingles in anticipation as he roughly palms your chest, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. A plea hangs on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back. You won’t let him win- but again your body has other ideas.

Fingers tightening in his hair, guiding his head the rest of the way until his lips close around the peak of your right breast, you can’t help but let out an unsteady, “Fuck, Tae…”

He hums in approval against your skin, tongue circling the rosy bud relentlessly.

You want to moan as another thread of heat knots in your stomach, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. Instead, you tug again at his hair, trying to breathe deep.

“Say my name again,” Taehyung whispers, licking a stripe up the valley of your breasts, shifting his other leg between yours, slowly pushing your knees apart. As he lifts himself to briefly reconnect his lips to yours, you can feel his hard arousal purposefully brush against your core.

Not wanting to show how much a simple swivel of his hips affects you, you force a laugh, breaking the kiss and dragging your nails across his bare back. He lets out another appreciative hum and buries his nose in the crook of your neck to suck at a spot behind your ear that leaves you shaky as you retort, “You wish.”

Likely just to spite you, harder this time, Taehyung rolls his hips against yours, a movement that causes your legs to wrap around his waist. Taking this as the “go” signal, he begins rhythmically pushing against you, running his hard length up and down your still clothed folds.

While the friction of the three layers between you is an interesting change of pace, you can’t help but crave skin to skin contact, lusting after the thought of him inside you.

*As if he can read your thoughts, Taehyung’s hand- the one that isn’t supporting his weight- travels to the hem of your pajama pants, his cold finger tips dip beneath the cloth, and the door opens.

“Well, this isn’t the bathroom,” Jungkook clears his throat and you snap into alertness, wrenched from what was nothing more than a disturbingly vivid wet dream. No wonder it had been so damn trite.

“Door on the other side of the hall,” Taehyung grumbles sleepily from his position half on top of you, face buried between your fully clothed breasts, right where you knew it would be.

Lord, what this asshole probably wouldn’t give to know you’d been dreaming about fucking him.

“Thanks.”

Even in the dim purple light of the lava lamp, you can see Jungkook’s eyebrows knit as he turns on heel and closes the door behind him.

“How the hell does someone confuse your room with the bathroom?” you want to scoff, but the derisive noise won’t leave your throat.

“I dunno.” Taehyung lifts himself up a little, bedraggled hair sticking up at an angle that almost makes you laugh. Almost, but not quite- because his voice is deep and hoarse in a way that makes you aware of the sticky state of your underwear, even if he only says, “I should really get a handle that locks.”

Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance.

You push Taehyung away, turning to face the opposite wall and clamping your thighs together in frustration. Maybe sleeping in Taehyung’s bed would not be as great of an idea you originally thought.

Too hot.

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