#I saw those stupid doors and the brain worms got to me

[lemonwrap]

You know these ridiculous doors in an apartment complex you might’ve seen on Twitter?

Imagine: an AU in which Soap and Ghost are neighbors…Except their doors are close. Very close.

They’re both in their late thirties or early forties. Ghost retired after sustaining an ACL tear, and Soap retired after suffering a back injury.

Simon is woken up early in the morning the sound of a bang and muffled cursing. He groans, gets out of bed, and opens his door just to be met face to face with a man.

“Steamin’ Jesus!” said man swears, taking a step back and dropping the box he’s holding.

“Good morning,” Simon says dryly, watching as the box thumps loudly to the ground. It’s about an inch away from his feet with how stupidly narrow the hallway is.

The man blinks at him. He’s awfully handsome, and with how they’re standing barely a foot apart, Simon can see how ridiculously blue his eyes are. He’s got a mohawk, some stubble, and an interesting scar on his chin. A new neighbor, Simon supposes.

“Morning,” the man says, bending down with a wince to pick up the box, but pauses. He hisses lightly with pain.

“You alright?” Simon asks.

“Busted up back,” the man replies. He’s got a Scottish accent, too. Charming. Simon silently picks up the box for him, careful not to bend his knee too much.

“Name’s Simon,” he says. He has no idea why he’s introducing himself, as he doesn’t talk much to anyone in the complex. The life of a retired veteran can be lonely, but Simon doesn’t always mind.

“John,” the man replies, flashing him a clearly grateful smile. Simon hands John the box, and when he turns around to go put the box in his new apartment, Simon goes back inside his own respective apartment and shuts the door. He’s not usually big on social interaction anyway.

He thinks that’s the last he’ll see of John, until he’s going out to run an errand and bumps right into a man when he’s turning around after locking his door. The two of them nearly fall, but Simon grabs the man’s wrist and steadies them.

His new neighbor, John, grins up at him. “Nice to see you again.”

Simon releases him, and John steps out of his space as much as he can. Simon swears his cheeks feel a little warm—maybe he’s coming down with something.

“How’s the back?” Simon asks gruffly. Why is he even asking? Jesus, he needs to get out of here.

“Shite as usual,” John says, shrugging.

“See you around,” Simon says abruptly, and he brushes past John.

The interactions don’t stop there. They regularly run into each other at various times, half of the time dropping groceries, bumping a funny bone against a door, or ending up much too close to each other. To his dismay, Simon realizes that he doesn’t mind his encounters with John, and he begins to look forward to them.

A few months after meeting John, it’s yet another day of the two of them accidentally crashing into each other. John drops his keys, and Simon nearly trips over John’s foot.

“Shit,” John laughs. “We’ve gottae stop meetin’ like this.”

Simon huffs out a laugh and bends down to pick up John’s keys, remembering his bad back. He just about slams his head into John’s chin when he stands up, but he doesn’t take much of a step back. He presses the keys into John’s hand, and John takes them with one of those bright smiles of his that Simon’s slowly grown to know.

“Come in for coffee?” John asks, and Simon can’t refuse.

#I saw those stupid doors and the brain worms got to me #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #neighbors au #lemonwrap writes

[neonlights92]

Night Changes: PART ONE

Jeon Jungkook has spent the last twenty years alone.  Single.  Solo. 

And that’s just the way he likes it.  That is, until he meets the supposed love of his life.  Suddenly he’s falling over himself at the chance of a real relationship with someone.

The only thing getting in his way? You.

genre: fuckboy!jungkookie, college!jungkookie, romcom, e2l (kinda)

A/N: my attempt at a college kookie story? enjooooy

--

Perhaps it is the universe telling him to stop drinking. 

Jeon Jungkook really needs to start listening to the universe, and stop listening to - well to put it bluntly - his penis. 

When he wakes up in another stranger’s bed, with a splitting headache, and lipstick marks scattered across his chest, he reckons he should start making better life choices. 

The young woman sharing his bed - a girl from the party last night, with legs that go on for miles - rolls over and blinks her eyes open sleepily.  She smiles at him.

“Hi Jungkook.” 

He racks his brain for her name.  Jisoo… Jennie… Lisa… Rose? 

He feels bad - he really really does - but what can he do?  He was seven tequilas in, when Taehyung convinced him that taking her home would be a good idea. 

“Hi…. You.”  He finishes lamely, smiling sheepishly. 

She blinks again, this time a little more furious.  Her eyes narrow after a moment. 

“You don’t remember my name, do you?”  She purses her stained lips, and Jungkook really does feel awful.

Or maybe that’s just the hangover. 

“I uh - maybe.  It’s.. Last night’s a little bit grainy for me, to be honest.”

She seems unimpressed, arching a well-groomed brow, “You’re in most of my classes at college, Jeon Jungkook.”

And really that’s when he feels like a complete asshole. 

“Shit.  I’m sorry,” He tries to place her - he tries so fucking hard - but he knows he doesn’t recognise her, and a worm of guilt starts niggling in the pit of his stomach.

She rolls her eyes and sits up, pressing a hand against her forehead and clicking her tongue, “Whatever.  Just get out.  Jerk.” 

Jungkook feels bad.  Seriously, he does. 

But he can’t help but share her sentiment.  

He scrambles out of bed, fishing around her bedroom floor for the jeans he so carelessly threw off, and the white shirt he’s sure is stained with something he’ll never be able to get rid of.  He stumbles into the clothing and turns back towards the nameless woman glaring at him from underneath the covers.

“Do you hate me?”

She rolls her eyes, “Get out of my house, asshole.” He winces.  He knows he deserves that.

“See you soon?” She shakes her head, and tugs a hand through her unruly hair, “Hopefully not.” Jungkook bolts out of there like his life depends on it but just as he pulls the front door open, somebody else blocks his way.  And suddenly everything in the world shifts, and he feels as though his heart has just split open right down the middle. 

Because standing in front of him, holding two bags of groceries, is an absolute angel.  

Jungkook thinks - no he’s certain - she’s the most beautiful woman he’s seen in his entire life, and now he understands the songs, and the sonnets and the plays.  This is what love at first sight is.

It has to be.

“Oh.”  She laughs a little, “Hi.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen, “Hi.”

“You must be Y/N’s guest.” 

Y/N.  So that’s her name.

“Uh… Yeah.”

Her cheeks flush brightly, “I’m Soomi, Y/N’s roommate.” 

“Nice to meet you Y/N’s roommate.  I’m Jungkook.”

When she giggles, Jungkook feels like he’s ascended into another plane of existence.  

“Well it’s nice to meet you too.”  Her eyes lower to his haphazardly buttoned shirt, “Under the circumstances.” Jungkook feels stupid and wonderful all at the same time, and just as he’s about to do something crazy - like ask for her number, or ask her to marry him, even - somebody clears their throat from behind him.

In a moment, Jungkook remembers exactly where he is.  His heart drops.

Shit.

Y/N.

“I see you’ve met the asshole I slept with last night,” Y/N raises a brow and clicks her tongue, “You were just on your way out, Jungkook, weren’t you?”

“I… Uh…  Yeah.  On my way out.” Jungkook knows he has no right to feel dejected - after all he was the one who couldn’t remember Y/N’s name in the first place.  But he’s sure Soomi might very well be the love of his life, and he can’t possibly just walk out like this, can he? But when he turns to face Soomi he notices she’s already stepped out of the way for him… And there’s really nothing more he can do.  

“Well uh… It was nice to meet you Soomi,” He moves into the hallway and turns to give Y/N a half smile, “See you in class.”

“Like I said.”  Y/N pulls a face, “Hopefully not.”

Soomi giggles again and he feels like he’s been shot straight through the heart, “Bye Jungkook!”

The door slams shut in his face, and the moment Jungkook is alone he notices how quickly his heart is racing.  Oh god.

He’s in love. 

He has to be.

//

“Jungkook.  You’re being ridiculous.”  Jungkook’s roommate Namjoon rolls his dark eyes, “She is not the “love of your life.”  Stop being so dramatic, you sound like Jin.” Jungkook feels like his heart is about to burst.  It’s been less than three hours since he met Soomi and all he can think about is the curve of her smile.

“No.  I’m serious, Namjoon.  C’mon, when have you ever known me to feel this way about a girl?”

Namjoon sets his mug of coffee to one side and clicks his tongue, “Never.  I’ve never known you to feel this way about a girl.  Which only further proves my point - you’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re just made of ice,” He comments bitterly, “I’m serious Namjoon.  I’m in love.”

“Listen Jungkook you know I usually love to disagree with Namjoon,” This comes from Jungkook’s other roommate Taehyung who is slung across the couch lazily, “But I’ve got to say… This time he’s got a point.  You sound like a crazy person.”

“If you saw her you’d know exactly what I mean.” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes so hard Jungkook is surprised he doesn’t lose one to the back of his skull.

“It’s a girl Jungkook.  A girl you met for all of twenty seconds.” “She was an angel.”

Taehyung giggles, “You’ve really got it bad huh?” “My heart hasn’t stopped pounding since I left her.”  Jungkook feels himself deflate slightly, “I need to see her again.” “And how are you going to do that?”  Taehyung raises a dark brow, “Surely you don’t have any classes with her, or you would’ve seen her by now.”

“No but… I have classes with Y/N.”  Jungkook knows it’s a dumb suggestion.  

But he can’t help it.  He needs to see Soomi again. 

“Y/N as in the girl who you slept with and who’s name you couldn’t remember?”  Namjoon scoffs, “Even you can’t be dumb enough to think she’d help you out of the goodness of her heart.”

“No… Maybe not out of the goodness of her heart.”  Jungkook agrees, carding a hand through his cherry red locks, “But I can figure out something she wants.  Y’know… Mutually beneficial.”

“I hope you’re not talking about your penis,” Taehyung pulls a face. 

“Have you not been listening for the past hour Taehyung?  I am in love with Soomi - I’m not about to sleep with her roommate...Again.  I’m a one woman man.”

Namjoon pushes himself to his feet, “Your only hope is that she’s in love with somebody else.  Somebody you could potentially help her seduce.”

Jungkook stands too, “That’s brilliant.” “What about Hoseok?” Taehyung cocks his head to the side, “Everybody’s in love with Hoseok.”

“Do not drag Hoseok into this Jungkook.”  Namjoon gives his friend a pointed look, “I’m serious.  He’s still heartbroken over Alexa.”

“Alexis,” Taehyung corrects, “Why can’t you ever bother to get the names of our girlfriends right?”

As Namjoon and Taehyung argue over Namjoon’s inability to remember names correctly, Jungkook starts thinking of all the ways he can convince Y/N to help him with Soomi.

It’ll be a piece of cake.

Or so he hopes.

//

Monday morning rolls around and Jungkook spends practically every minute from the moment he leaves his dorm scouring the campus for Y/N.  She isn’t in his first class of the day - or even the second.  By his third class of the day he starts to wonder if maybe she’d confused him with someone else.

Maybe there’s another Jeon Jungkook on campus who sleeps with attractive women and forgets their name in the morning.  Somebody else is stealing his game.

But then - like a vision from heaven - she walks into his political science class as if she isn’t the key to all his happiness. Her eyes flit across the lecture room and when they land on Jungkook she glares.  He wants to sink back against himself but he refuses - instead he smiles widely and gestures for her to sit in the empty seat beside him.

She shakes her head as if he’s crazy (and to be honest, he might be) and instead moves towards the very back, sliding into a seat all on her own. 

Jungkook grunts.  He can’t really blame her. 

Still.  Does she really have to make things so difficult?

He grabs his books and shuffles over to where Y/N is sat, engrossed by something on her phone.  When he looks closer he realises it's one of those pimple popping compilations on Youtube.

Gross.

Jungkook clears his throat and when she looks up her expression morphs from surprise into annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting beside my new friend,” He grins wider, “Y/N.”

Her eyes narrow into slits, “What do you want?”

“To make amends,” Jungkook answers immediately, “I kind of feel like an asshole.” “You should.”  She gives him another look of annoyance, “But I’m also not stupid.  You’ve got the hots for Soomi, haven’t you?”

Jungkook feels his stomach drop.  Is he that obvious?

“Everyone has the hots for Soomi,” Y/N waves her hand noncommittally and gives him a once over, “Though not everyone has slept with her roommate.”

Jungkook winces.  It’s clear Y/N despises him.

“Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

“For forgetting my name or for giving me the worst head of my life?” The insult sears him.  Jungkook may be a little bit of a lady’s man but he’s always been determined to please his lovers.  He wishes he could remember any part of their tryst (to prove her wrong, more than anything) but once again he draws a blank.

“I can make it up to you.” She raises a brow, “I highly doubt that.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue with her - before Y/N’s attention is stolen by the figure that has just walked through the double doors of their lecture room.  Jungkook follows her gaze and smirks when he realises who she’s staring at.

“So you have the hots for Park Jimin then?”

Y/N’s eyes snap up to meet his and she seems flustered, “What?”

“You just looked at him like he rearranged the stars to spell your name,” Jungkook’s smirk widens, “You like him.”

Y/N looks ready to smack him across the face.  

“Shut up.”

“I’m not wrong though, am I?” When her eyebrows dip into a scowl, Jungkook knows he’s won this battle.  He leans towards her, conspiratorially. 

“I know Jimin well.”

That’s kind of a bold statement (and kind of a lie.)  Jungkook knows of Jimin.  He’s on the same dance team as Taehyung and Hoseok - two of Jungkook’s closest friends.  That’s enough of an in, isn’t it?

“No you don’t.”  She mutters with a roll of her eyes, “I can see where you’re going with this.”

“No seriously.  He’s best friends with Kim Taehyung,” Again a slight overstatement, but Jungkook doesn’t correct himself, “And Taehyung is like my brother.  We grew up together.”

“So what?  You help me out with Jimin and I have to do the same for Soomi?”  She scoffs, “Soomi and I are best friends.  I don’t want to lie to her.” “It wouldn’t be lying.”  Jungkook’s voice pinches a little, “It’s just helping fate along.” “Fate?”  Y/N’s expression morphs into one of disbelief, “Oh my god.  You really do have the hots for her.” “If cupid himself descended to earth and shot me in the ass with an arrow, I’d feel exactly the same for her.  Seriously.”

Y/N seems to contemplate the suggestion.  Her eyes move to meet the back of Jimin’s head - where he’s sat in the front row - and she sighs heavily.  Jungkook tries to read her face. 

Is she softening up to the idea?

“Let’s say I agreed to help you.”  Her voice is flat, “How can I be sure Soomi won’t just be another notch on your bedpost?”

Jungkook feels his chest constrict, “I resent that.  Just because I have more experience than others doesn’t mean I’m an asshole.  I don’t pursue women with the intentions of fucking them over.”

He won’t admit it but that assumption kind of pisses him off.  

When Y/N is quiet a moment longer, Jungkook sighs and tugs a hand through his hair. 

“If I do fuck her over…. Which I won’t.  I give you full permission to start a rumour that my penis is the size of a cocktail sausage.  I won’t even deny it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and Jungkook notices (but doesn’t comment on) a red flush to her neck.

“Alright.  Fine.  I’ll help you out with Soomi, if you help me out with Jimin.”

Jungkook has to force himself not to punch the air in triumph.  Instead he grins - nice and wide - and nudges Y/N playfully, “I think this is the start of a very beautiful friendship.”

She groans.

“I’m already regretting this.”

//

Jungkook sends Y/N a text message the next morning, bright and early.  He doesn’t expect a response from her - he assumes she’s more of a night owl than an early bird - but then his phone pings in response and he has to say he’s a little surprised.

Jungkook: good mornin’ y/n… this is cupid calling 

Y/N: y’know..  I knew giving you my number was a bad idea 

Jungkook: oh c’mon don’t be like that, now that we’re friends you should definitely start warming up to me

Her reply takes a little longer but Jungkook isn’t worried.  Despite what she feels towards him, Y/N thinks her only way to Jimin’s heart is through Jungkook.  So she’ll just have to put up with it.

Y/N: I just puked in my mouth at the thought of warming up anywhere close to you.  Gross

Jungkook smiles at her response.

Jungkook: I think you like me more than you're willing to admit.  Anyway we need to get on with our…. Agreement.  Want to come round this evening to discuss arrangements?  I’ll even throw in some pizza and beer.

Y/N: I only like hawaiian.

Jungkook: Disgusting.  You and Namjoon will get on fantastically then.  Alright hawaiian it is. 

He sends her his address and when she replies with the puking emoji he laughs despite himself.

Maybe she’s not all that bad.

//

“Pineapple on pizza is a cardinal sin.” Y/N glares at Jungkook as she tucks into her third slice, “Why are you hating?”

“I just - I don’t get it.”

Y/N had arrived at his apartment earlier that evening with a six pack of beer in what Jungkook had assumed was a begrudging olive branch.  The two of them had spent the last hour discussing the delicate intricacies of mario kart, and Jungkook had found himself enjoying her company more and more.

He hated to admit it but she was kind of cool.

Only kind of, though.

“You don’t get it because your taste buds are subpar,” She moves her mouth into a small smile and Jungkook almost gasps at the gesture, “Hawaiian is the only acceptable way to eat pizza.  Period.”

“Y’know you look much cuter when you smile,” He quips, watching as she chokes on the last piece of crust, “You should do it more often.” Her eyes narrow into a glare, “I smile at people who bother to remember my name.”

“I thought you’d forgiven me for that.  I’m helping you out with Jimin aren’t I?”

Y/N laughs - and Jungkook is surprised at the warmth in her tone, “At a price.  Or are you forgetting I’m setting you up with Soomi?”

“Which reminds me,” He scoots closer towards her, pushing the pizza box out of the way, “What’s our plan of action?” Y/N seems to pause for a moment, her eyes flicking nervously across his face as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear.  Jungkook doesn’t comment on her sudden shift in behaviour, but he notices it. 

Man.  Girls are weird.

“I thought maybe… You could come over one night, to watch a movie or whatever.  And you could ask Taehyung and Jimin to join, too.”

Jungkook nods emphatically, “That’s a good plan.  Something intimate to really plant those seeds of love.”

Y/N laughs again and he notices the crinkles at the sides of her eyes when she does so.  Weird.  Why hasn’t he seen those before?  Admittedly… It’s kind of adorable.

“Plant those seeds of love,” She pulls a face, “You really are a wordsmith, Jeon Jungkook.” 

“Is it any wonder when my major is English lit?”

“Me too,” She cocks her head to one side, hair falling out from behind her ears, “Makes sense why you’re in most of my classes.”

Jungkook feels kind of (very) guilty as memories of their morning together are brought back.

“I really do feel like shit for not remembering you.”  He rubs the back of his neck in that universal boy sign for awkwardness, and clicks his tongue, “I wish I had.”

She shrugs, her eyes darkening a moment as she looks away, “It’s alright.  I’m kind of used to it to be honest.  Always been more of a... Background kind of person.” 

Jungkook clucks, like a mother hen disappointed at her chicks, “Hey don’t say that about yourself.”

When Y/N moves her eyes to meet with his own again, Jungkook notices she doesn’t seem angry or bitter.   Just resigned.

“But it’s true,” She licks her bottom lip and smiles almost sadly, “Soomi’s always been the centre of attention everywhere we go.  And I’ve known her… Forever, really.  So it makes sense.  Someone always has to take the back seat.  I don’t mind it.  Suits me just fine.”

Now Jungkook really feels like an asshole.  When she was prickly, it was easy to shove everything under the carpet, and pretend that not knowing her name wasn’t sort of horrible.

But now she was being nice, it made everything a hundred times worse.

“I’m sorry Y/N.  Really.”  

She meets his gaze again and smiles - this time a little lighter, “Don’t worry about it.  Now you know who I am… And you’ll never forget it.  Not least because I’m the love of your life’s best friend.”

Jungkook feels kind of awful right now, but he knows that apologising again will probably only annoy her.  He tucks his guilt somewhere into the back of his mind and smiles widely, trying to ease the mood.

“Right.  And I’m the person who is going to help you snag the man of your dreams!” 

She laughs at that, taking a final chug of her beer before setting the empty bottle to one side.

“Park Jimin here I come!”

“You’ve got a one way ticket to Bonetown and Jimin is flying first class!”

She laughs louder, this time snorting, “That makes no sense, but I’ll take it.”

They spend the rest of the evening hanging out in a way that feels strangely familiar, and it’s only when Y/N’s head begins to lull to one side that Jungkook realises it’s past three am.  And as he orders her an uber home, and insists she takes the final slice of pizza for the journey home, Jungkook realises that Y/N is more than just kind of cute.

She’s kind of great.

//

Later on that week, as Jungkook fills Namjoon and Taehyung in on his progress with Y/N, the former seems less than impressed.

“This is only going to end badly.”  Namjoon shakes his head, “Haven’t you ever seen a romantic comedy?  Shit like this only ends in tears.”

Jungkook takes a swig from his beer and rolls his eyes, “Have you ever tried to be positive a single day in your life Namjoon?  Y/N agreed to help me.  It’s progress.”

“But you dragged me into it,” Taehyung seems unimpressed, “And I told you me and Jimin aren’t even that close.”

“Okay so I might have embellished slightly….”

“Slightly?  You called us the best of friends,” Taehyung groans at his friend’s stupidity, “I’m not sure Jimin even knows what major I’m taking.”

“This is the most Jungkook problem of all time,” Namjoon guffaws at the situation, “How the hell are you going to sort this out.” “Tae - I just need you to convince Jimin to come on one date.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “I don’t know him that well, Kook.  What exactly am I supposed to say?” 

“I don’t know but you once convinced your mom those nudes of you that got leaked senior year of high school were actually for an art project,” Jungkook pleads with his friend, “I know  you can do this.” Taehyung laughs at the memory and pulls a face, “If he says no though, there’s not much else I can do.” “Fine.  But at least try.”

Jungkook knows that the universe is working in his favour.  It has to be.  The moment he laid eyes on Soomi he knew he’d never be happy again without her.

“Alright Kook I’ll try.  But I’m not making any promises.” Jungkook grins, “You’re the best.”

“I know I am,” He leans further back into the couch and grabs a slice of the pizza Namjoon ordered, surreptitiously picking off the pineapple, “Now what are you going to do about Y/N?” Jungkook raises a brow, “What do you mean?” “Well you described her as a she-demon,” Namjoon snorts, choking on some of his beer, “How exactly is that going to seduce Jimin?” “Remember everyone loves him,” Taehyung tacks on - less than helpfully - his smirk growing, “She’s going to have to get in line.” “Everyone does not love Jimin.”

Taehyung scoffs, “You’re kidding right?  I once watched him turn down three girls in one night.”

“Yeah.  This girl from my psych class says he’s still heart broken from his ex,” Namjoon seems to be enjoying Jungkook’s predicament a little too much, “Says he won’t even give anyone a chance.”

Jungkook refuses to let his friends’ pessimism get in the way of his elation.  He’s one step closer to Soomi, and if Jimin thinks he can be the one to stand in his way he’s got another thing coming.

“I’ll make it work.”  He answers with more confidence than he necessarily feels, “Besides, Y/N’s not that bad.  In certain lights she might even be considered kind of… Cute.  She’s just a little...brash.”

“Could her brashness towards you be due to the fact you forgot her name after an evening of vigorous love making?”  Taehyung gives his friend a knowing look, “I mean that would probably even hurt you Jungkook.  And you’re the master of not giving a fuck.”

“I apologised.”  He says it like that should fix everything, but in the depths of his heart Jungkook knows forgetting her name was kind of (really) shitty, “Besides.  If I really do set her up with Jimin and this all works out perfectly she’ll have a lot to thank me for.  Might even forgive me.”

Taehyung laughs and Namjoon pulls a face.

“We live in hope.” “That we do Joon.” Jungkook grins, “That we do.”

//

#bts #bangtan #jungkook #fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #imagine #jungkookxreader #smut #angst #fuckboy!jungkook #college!jungkook #e2l

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | SEVEN

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 4,000

warnings: fluff. angst. language. not even sure why i warn for angst anymore this whole story is just angsty af

18+!!! minors stay away!

In the following few weeks, you realized two things. One: Peter Parker was definitely not subtle. The other being that you were definitely in way over your head. There was no denying the stupid butterflies in your stomach anymore, or the way you found yourself expecting his touch before it even came.

It seemed as though the two of you were like magnets; a constant tug gravitating the pair of you back to each other with an unstoppable force. If you weren't together, he was on your mind, and like he could sense you thinking of him he'd be quick to reach out in some way or another. Be it appearing at your side, all happy grins and playful eyes, or calling your phone no matter the time with his stupidly adorable stutter--Peter seemed to think of you just as much as you thought of him.

The more that you thought of him, the more that you wished you didn't. It was terrifying. You wished that you could pull away again, to push him back out of your heart and lock those iron bars tight once more, but your heart had grown selfish and stubborn. It was as if you were the one locked out anymore; the control over your feelings slipping further and further from your clutches with every toothy smile Peter sent your way.

Like a magnet, he held you in place. Oh, to be held by... You slapped a pillow over your face and screamed, holding it so tightly that your nose ached and you couldn't breath. Peter Parker was like a disease. A stupid, all-consuming, utterly infatuating disease of the mind and the spirit.

You knew that you were wasting time, undoubtedly causing yourself to risk being late for school with every minute that passed as you continued to lay in your bed, but you couldn't bring yourself to get up. Already, your mother and father both had knocked at your door on multiple occasions and questioned if you were sick, and now you were regretting saying no. It would have been so easy to avoid him if you'd just played hookie.

But, with midterms in the near future, you knew it wasn't the best idea. The realization had come to you in the night. A moment so insignificant, so mundane, but it had been as if a switch were flipped in your mind. A light was turned on, so to speak, and illuminated all the thoughts and emotions you'd been so tirelessly repressing.

Talking on the phone with Peter was like a drug, and talking on the phone to him at night was a dangerous game. Under the dull light of a crescent moon and the ridiculous teddy-bear night light that was plugged into your wall, a lingering remnant of your sister's presence in the space, your inhibitions were always low. With sleepiness your walls were always lowered, and he'd unknowingly put a fatal crack in the foundation.

You rolled onto your stomach on your bed, kicking your feet through the air like a little kid as you fought back the grin that always seemed to worm its way across your lips when you were talking to him. "So, how do you like Ned and MJ?" Peter asked, and you could almost picture him mirroring your position as you heard the quiet rustle of blankets over the line. A little giggle bubbled out of your mouth at the thought.

What a sight that would be, Peter kicking his legs to and fro like a school girl in love. "They're cool. I kinda like that MJ doesn't even pretend to hide the fact that she thinks I'm weird. I don't--I don't know, it's refreshing I guess. Ned's sweet." you rambled, and it was the truth.

Ned and MJ were easily slipping into the fortress that shielded your heart with every passing day. Somehow, it wasn't as terrifying as you'd expected it to be. Perhaps that was because they didn't harbor a secret identity with which they risked their lives every single night, or maybe it was just because you'd come to realize that letting people in wasn't so bad. Not everyone was going to die on you.

Michelle Jones really didn't pretend not to think you were weird, not even a little bit. Her blunt and honest nature was a nice change from the quiet stares that seemed to follow your every move; MJ wasn't much for staring. Rather, she boldly told you what she was thinking without any shred of doubt.

And Ned, sweet Ned Leeds, was like a puppy personified. Always happy, always smiling, and always waiting to offer you compliments when you approached. You couldn't remember the last time someone had dared compliment your hair, your smile, or your outfits. Ned made it impossible to feel anything but comfort and joy in his presence, even his awkward nature was endearing.

"I'm glad." Peter hummed, "They really like you. To be honest, though, I kinda like it when it's just us. Maybe I should have waited a little longer to share you."

There was a pang in your chest at his words. Peter had been subtly flirting with you for days now, but this was more direct. He didn't have to come right out and say it for his implications to come across loud and clear, and that magnetic pull grew stronger.

So strong, in fact, that you murmured back, "I like it when it's just us, too."

If you had just kept your mouth shut, maybe he wouldn't have been so bold as to say, "Not gonna let them steal your heart from me, are you?"

The words were right at the tip of your tongue. Your heart was screaming, never! Nobody could ever steal me away from you, Peter! Yet, your mind was racing with a million and one horrible thoughts that made you feel as though your mouth was full of mud.

The silence between yourself and Peter grew thick as it drew on, no words escaping your lead-like lips. The voice in your brain, the one that sounded like your sister yet you knew was not her, was ringing in your ears. How could you ever fall in love, when she never could? How could you give your heart away, when she never had the chance?

You took that chance away from her. You stole it. This thing, whatever the weird force between the two of you was, was all stolen time, stolen opportunities, and stolen lives.

"Good night, (Y/N). I'll see you at school?"

You whispered, "Yes." The line went dead, and you felt cold.

Those simple words from Peter, with meaning and intention that was far from simple, were all it took to send the walls, bars, and barbed wire around your heart crumbling into nothing. With no protection, no barrier between yourself and the dangers of everyone else, your mind was working on overdrive. It would have been so easy to let him in, had that voice remained quiet, and yet you were steadily building those bricks back into place.

Now, all that was left to do was to steal your heart back. When had he managed to take it from you? Had he snuck in during the night, slipping through the strategically placed cracks and weak points he'd created, and stole away with it undetected? Had he taken it that first night, without you ever noticing?

As you finally released the pressure over the pillow on your face, sucking in a shaky breathe and letting all the heavy things crash over you again, tears burned your eyes. You didn't want to push Peter away. You didn't want to be the reason he was hurt, upset, or angry--you weren't ready to be the villain in his story.

"Mom?" you called out, knowing she was lingering close by.

Proving you correct, the door to your bedroom cracked open only seconds later and your mother's worried eyes fell upon your blinking ones. She definitely saw the troubled look on your face, the tears in your eyes, yet she held back from mentioning any of it as she asked, "Are you sick, honey?"

You nodded, the lump in your throat aiding your act as you croaked, "Yes. I don't feel good."

She frowned a little, knowing that you were bending the truth of the matter. Your mother was perceptive, and with the emotion all over your face, it easy for her to know that this wasn't some stomach bug or sore throat. To your relief, though, she resigned, "I'll call you out of school for the day. I'll be in my office if you need me."

Tomorrow, you could be the villain. For today, though, you were content to avoid your troubles and wallow in your self pity. At least this way you had some time to slip back into your stoic, cold demeanor before you had to face him. Time to prepare yourself to be alone again, because you knew that once you pushed Peter Parker away, Ned and MJ would be quick to follow him.

Sleep didn't come for you like you hoped it would. Well, it did, but then you found yourself dreaming of Peter and woke with a start. School had started an hour ago, and already there were a flurry of confused and increasingly alarmed messages from him lighting up your phone screen. Even though you couldn't hold back from reading them, you locked it before you found yourself replying as if on autopilot.

Pete: are you late

Pete: i'm at your locker

Pete: hello?

Pete: i'm going to class... see you there?

Pete: are you okay? you said you'd be here

Pete: at least let me know you're aldkhdkfj

You spent the day in your room, ignoring Peter and ignoring the world. Occasionally your mother would crack open your door to check on you, fussing over feeling your forehead despite the fact that you both knew you didn't have a fever, and tittering little comments about getting rest and staying hydrated. She knew you weren't sick, yet you were grateful she didn't try to pry.

As much as you wanted to tell her all of the things that were on your mind, the reasons that you were upset, you couldn't. You couldn't tell her all of the awful things you were thinking, and see the way her face would contort in anguish over you. You certainly couldn't listen to her telling you that it wasn't your fault, you weren't wrong for liking a boy, and your sister would want you to be happy. Even if you knew, in some deep part of your brain, that it was true.

Pete: got my phone taken in calculus sorry

Pete: I'm at lunch now, are you okay?

Pete: are you sick?

Pete: like... actually sick?

Peter really was relentless. You wondered how long it would take for him to catch onto what you were doing, or if he would at all. Would he understand why you suddenly gave him the cold shoulder? Would he understand, and be okay when you pushed him away again?

Pete: I'm in speech now.

Pete: we got the class to work on the speech and you're not here

Pete: not that we could do much anyways since you're so stubborn but still

Pete: okay what is going on

Pete: (Y/N)

Pete: please talk to me

Reading all of his messages kept the ache in your chest alive, stopping the numbness from creeping back in. You wished you could put your phone down, turn it off even, but it was like a cruel an addicting game to read each message as it arrived. You found yourself watching the little three dots as he typed another message eagerly, even if he was far from happy.

When school ended, he called. You let it ring each time, watching his name scroll across your screen over and over again until it ended. Once, twice, three times--he finally stopped calling, not leaving a voicemail.

For awhile, you wondered if that was it. Was he done? Had he caught on? Had he figured you out just as easily as he always seemed to do? Had Peter given up?

Pete: i know what you're doing

Pete: i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable

Pete: we can just be friends if that's what you want

It wasn't what you wanted, and that was the problem. You didn't want to be friends with Peter Parker. Well, you didn't want to just be friends with him. You wanted to know what his touch felt like when it was deliberate and welcoming, not the fleeting and curious brushes of his skin on yours. To be held by him, to taste his lips, to hold his heart in your hands like he already held yours--you wanted so much more than friendship with Peter, and that made you a thief and a fraud.

You: that's not what i want

You were weak. A weak, cowardly idiot is what you were, and you threw your phone on your bed with a groan as you realized what you'd done. The voice in your mind whispered insults, taunting you for being so easily broken.

Pete: what do you mean

You: i don't want to be friends with you Peter

Pete: oh

One simple word, and you realized he had taken that in a completely different way than you had meant it. Yet, you didn't correct him. You didn't explain that you meant you didn't want to just be friends. Maybe this was your chance--an easy way to kick him outside your walls without having to see it firsthand.

The chance didn't last long. A quiet knock sounded on your window, and your heart froze in your chest as you tried to sink deeper into your bed. It was the wind, you told yourself, until the knock sounded again and slightly louder. You could see the shadow on your floor out of the corner of your eye, and you buried your face into your pillow to block it out. If you ignored him, he would go away, and this would all be over.

After a few more knocks, it was silent for awhile, and you tempted a look at the floor only to frown at the sight of the shadow missing. He was gone, and you were alone again. Your lip quivered at the thought; what had you done? It was a mistake. This was a mistake.

You didn't want to push him away. You wanted him to hold your heart. You wanted Peter Parker as your friend, as more than a friend, hell, as anything as long as it was with you. But now? Going back on your word and dragging him back in again would be pathetic. He didn't deserve such treatment, especially not from you.

So, you pulled your pillow back over your face and let the tears fall. Your hot breath burned your eyes and made you feel sticky and gross, but you didn't care one bit. It felt cathartic to cry, like returning to a familiar place you'd been skirting around for ages. Crying over Peter was different than crying over your sister; the hurt was different, but one thing was the same: both were all your fault.

"Go away, mom." you whined, barely hearing the sound of your door unlatching over your muffled sniffles. It creaked further open, and you groaned, pressing the pillow harder onto your face, "Mom, please, I just want to be alone."

A throat cleared, and you froze. That wasn't your mother, the voice was deeper. The sound was still too light to be your father's, though, and that left one option that made your blood run cold. He didn't--did he?

He did. Peter pried the pillow out of your hands, all red cheeks and sad eyes as he stared at you in a sullen silence. "Why are you doing this?" he whispered, "Why are you pushing me away?"

You blinked at him, too paralyzed by the sight of his fluttering eyelids and pouting lips to speak. It must have been a sight to see you like that, your face red and blotchy, streaked with tears and snot that you'd been too lazy to wipe away. He didn't look away from your eyes, though, gazing into them with an intensity that dared you to look away.

Sensing that you weren't going to speak, he pressed on, "(Y/N), what is going on? I don't--It's okay if you don't like me back, I can deal with that. I want to be your friend, though. I thought you wanted to be mine, too."

Voice scratchy, you muttered, "I don't."

Something changed in him, and suddenly Peter was raking a hand through his hair as he frowned deeply. You wanted to smooth the crease between his brows, but you felt frozen. He was angry; he was angry with you, and he didn't hold back as he snapped, "That's bullshit, and you know it. If you didn't want to be friends, then why did you make that deal? Why did you let me make a complete fool of myself just to get your attention? Why did you let me introduce you to my friends? Stop lying to me!"

"I'm not!" you yelped, sitting up frantically and wiping at your face, finally. "I'm not lying, Pete!"

He threw his head back at the nickname, a sigh of exasperation forcing its way from his lips, nostrils flared. "I don't get you, (Y/N). I don't get you at all." he growled, facing you again with a heavy brow.

You gripped your blankets tightly, bunching them around your waist as you blinked at him with wide eyes. "I don't want to just be your friend, Peter!" you burst, "I don't want to just be your friend, and I don't know why. You make me feel all these things that terrify me, but I keep chasing after you and whatever those things are! It was so easy being alone, okay? Then suddenly you came swinging into my life and made everything so--so complicated!"

Your mother's face peered into your room, eyes blown wide in surprise, but the moment you glanced at her she backed away with a bitten smile and you flushed. You didn't get the chance to dwell on the fact that she'd been eavesdropping, though, because Peter sat on the edge of your bed and bit the inside of his cheek, blinking at you with teasing eyes.

"So, you like me?"

Eyes narrowed, you grumbled, "Are you really going to make me say it, Pete? After all of that?"

A sly grin stretched across his lips, cheeks puffing out adorably and making you bite your own to keep from grinning too. He tutted, raising his ruffled brow as he jabbed, "After everything else today? I think it's the least you could do."

You were screwed. His fingertips barely caressed the backs of your knuckles, and you shakily grabbed them before he pulled away again. "I like you, jerk." you mumbled, screwing your eyes shut as you felt your face burn in embarrassment.

Peter just chuckled, squeezing your hand as you felt your bed shift under his weight. "I don't want to just be your friend, either." his breathe fanned over your cheek, and your eyes snapped open to find his face closer than ever. If you just turned, ever so slightly, his lips would brush your own... He kissed your cheek softly, backing away with a tiny smile that you matched. "I like you a lot. Probably more than like, really."

"That scares me." you whispered, eyes still latched onto his, "Peter, you scare me."

He took a long moment to answer, weighing heavily the words he would utter next, before finally telling you, "You scare me, too, but I think it's worth it."

A gentle tapping at your door crashed through the moment, both of your faces burning a deep red as you turned to face your mother's sheepish smile. "Sorry, sorry, don't mind me--"

"Mom!" you wailed, slapping your hands over your face in mortification as she stealthily slipped into your room and dropped a box of condoms onto your dresser before racing away again. "Oh, I can't believe she--Mom! Did you really have to do that?"

Peter was laughing boisterously, head thrown back and eyes shut, though you could tell he was flustered too from the cherry red color that creeped down from his face and under his shirt. As humiliated as you were by your mother's actions, you couldn't help but to feel a little grateful for the interruption. The intensity, the tension in the air, had disappeared with the intrusion, and things felt a little bit lighter again.

You flopped back onto your bed, still pouting over the spectacle, as Peter breathed out, "That's so something Aunt May would have done, too."

At least you weren't alone in the embarrassing family department, you thought to yourself as Peter threw himself down beside you. She meant well, obviously, but did she really think that you and Peter were going to go from admitting you liked each other to ripping each other's clothes off in one night? Well, you were eighteen--maybe she had a bit of a reason to be so hasty.

"Do you think it's worth it?" Peter questioned, and you turned your head to face him, trying to ignore the close proximity of his face to your own. "Liking me?"

You chewed at your lip, listening for that voice in your head that had suddenly gone silent. "Yeah, yeah I do." you responded, and his face split in a blushing smile. You did think it was worth it, because being with him reminded you of all the good feelings you missed out on when he wasn't around. "I just wish we could have been like this before. Maybe then I wouldn't feel like I'm stealing her life."

He grew serious in an instant, eyebrows furrowing as he stated, "I don't." At the sight of your confusion, he continued, "I don't wish we met before. Can you honestly say that you're the same person you were before?"

"No."

He nodded, "Exactly. Stuff like that... It changes you. I would know, remember? You wouldn't be the you that I like, and if Uncle Ben were here maybe I wouldn't be who you like, either."

You had to admit, he had a point. "I guess so." you pondered aloud.

"You're not stealing her life, either, (Y/N). She would have wanted you to be happy, to do all the things she never got to. It took me a long time to stop thinking that way, too, but I did. It wasn't your fault, and you can't miss out on stuff just because of her." Peter advised, and you swallowed down the lump that was growing steadily in your throat, "She didn't give up her life for you to stop living yours."

Fuck, Peter really knew exactly what to say. You, however, were at a loss for words. He said all of the things that you'd needed to hear for so long, so perfectly, and it rocked you to your core. How did he know just what you needed to hear? The answer was simple--because he knew you, and he knew how you were feeling. He knew, because he had lived it.

Changing the subject, you asked, "So, what do we do now?"

You didn't have to explain for him to understand, and he swallowed thickly, "Do you... will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yeah. That might be worth it."

He scoffed, "Might be? Forget it, I don't want you to be my--"

"I want to be your girlfriend, Pete!" you cut him off, laughing loudly. "I really, really want to." So, maybe you lied when you said that Peter made things complicated. In fact, Peter made things incredibly easy--and that made it worth it.

SERIES TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb @sweet-symphony @cherthegoddess @justsomebodyweird

#peter parker series #peter parker au #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker blurb #peter parker headcannon #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker #mcu #mcu peter parker #tom holland series #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic

[jawabear]

Hello, can I request a fic for Whiskey with prompts 58 and 70 from your prompt list

Brick Wall (Agent Whiskey x Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: Hi. Sorry this took so long Anon! And I’m sorry it sucks! I’ve been super stressed lately and my brain is all over the place. But I hope you enjoy it. It got better as I went which is good but...I don’t know. I just feel a little all over the place. But writing helps me :) hope you enjoy it! Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Prompts: 58. Please don’t cry 70. I have feelings you know

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, crying, drinking, coldness, I don’t really know, not a lot I don’t think

Summary: Finally, he gets to go on a mission with the girl he loves, but she’s not exactly gifted in the social graces like he is

“Tell me again why I’m the one who has to do this” (Y/N) groaned as she adjusted her dress. It was far too snug for her liking. But her like was to not be in a dress at all. But when attending a fancy charity ball got the sake of a mission, she was a little out of options.

“Because all other female agents are currently otherwise occupied” Ginger explained for what felt like the hundredth time to her. (Y/N) wasn’t entirely thrilled about being pulled onto a mission with the most obnoxious agent in the agency.

“You hurt me darlin’. Thought we were going to have a nice time tonight” talk of the devil. Agent Whiskey, Jack Daniels, stood in the door way of Ginger’s office.

As much as he annoyed (Y/N), she had to admit, he cleaned up good.

He stood there dressed in a specially tailored sleek black suit with a nicely pressed white shirt and black tie. He didn’t wear his signature Stetson which was a little off outing actually. But his hair was neatly slicked back, he looked pretty dashing.

But (Y/N) was good at hiding her emotions and gave him no expression as she looked him up and down.

Jack on the other hand was not as good at hiding his emotions. And when he look at her, you could read him like a book. His face said what his words couldn’t. He stared at her with his mouth open, his eyes raking up and down her body, loving the way the red dress hugged her body so perfectly. Showing off those beautiful curves she had. He had never seen her dress as such, mainly because she never had.

“Wow sweetheart..” his voice was low “you look...wow”

“Thanks” she muttered “but I feel ridiculous. Let’s just go and get it over with so I can take this stupid thing off” she slipped her gun into her thigh holster and walk past him.

Jack turned to look at Ginger who gave him a soft look in return. “What am I supposed to do?” He sighed “the woman despises me. How the fuck am I ever going to tell her how I feel?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say Jack” Ginger shrugged “she’s a complicated person. And as frustrating as it may be for you, you may have to either give it up, or just tell her”

“I can’t...give it up. She’s...I’m head over heals for her”

“Then tell her. This is your chance. The perfect opportunity to tell her how you feel because it will be just the two of you”

“Yeah...I guess you’re right...”

“But in between that, make sure you complete the mission this time”

-

“This is a fucking shit-show” (Y/N) hisses under her breath “we’ve been here for nearly three hours and still no sign of any of them”

Jack downed the rest of his whiskey and placed his now empty glass on the bar he was leaning on, it being swiftly taken away by the bar tender but Jack was waved off the offer of another.

“Let’s face it Jack” she said to him “this mission is a bust. They’re not coming”

Jack nodded in agreement “I guess you’re right” he reached over and grabbed her hands pulling her towards the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” She asked him, slight anger in her voice at being dragged against her will.

“Just because they’re not going to show up, doesn’t mean we can enjoy tonight” he assumed the classic dance position. One hand joined with her and his other arm snaking around her waist in a firm grip to keep her there, but he knew she was string enough to get out of his hold without using much of her effort.

She said nothing but just glared at him. This didn’t deter him from beginning to waltz her in a small circle to the slow beat of the music being played. For a while she allowed him to dance with her, if you could really call it that. She wasn’t exactly making it easy for him. Her body was stiff, he wicked been better off dancing with a brick wall at this point. But despite that, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Even if she was being difficult, he couldn’t deny the joy just being with her brought him. How he was the one who got to see her dressed up so nicely. He didn’t have the words to describe how beautiful she looked. How well she seemed to fit in with all the stuck up rich people surrounding them, calling themselves beautiful. But no one was more deserving of that word than she was.

Still, his frustration at her lack of cooperation was growing inside him. He wasn’t one to get angry, especially not to those he liked, but she admitted herself that the mission was a bust, there was no reason why she couldn’t let her guard down.

“There’s no one here you need to impress. So you can stop being so uptight and cold” his mouth betrayed him. He didn’t want to say anything to her about it. But the words slipped out without his consent.

Her eyes went wide at his words. Her body tensed. But her shock soon switched to anger. Anger he had never seen in her eyes before, it was more of a hurt anger than anything.

“Fuck you Jack” she hissed before yanking her hands from him and turning sharply, cleverly weaving herself through the crowd of people.

He immediately regretted what he said. He didn’t mean it. Well, not really anyway. He wanted her to relax, to feel comfortable around him. He should’ve worded it better, not just straight up insult her.

For a moment he just stood there awkwardly, none of the surrounding guests seemed to pay him any attention as he stood there. But when he finally came to his senses again, he stormed off in her footsteps. He had to apologise. He had to tell her how he felt before he fucked it up even more.

The trail lead him out on to a balcony where she lent against the stone wall, the moonlight outlined her perfect body so beautifully he almost didn’t want to approach her. He just wanted to look at her for a little while longer.

But he had to say something to her. He swallowed thickly and took cautious steps in her direction. When he looked at her, he saw her head hanging low as she stared at the ground way down under them. He felt so guilty that it was because of him she looked so...hurt.

“Sweetheart-“ he tried, reaching out his hand to stroke her cheek but she swatted it away and gave him a sharp look.

“I know I don’t always act like it but I have feelings you know” she turned back away from him and lent against the railing. “I’m not...just the heartless person everyone thinks I am..”

“You’re not heartless (Y/N), no one thinks you are-“

“Oh Jack. Just fucking stop okay? You know as well as I do that everyone hates me. Everyone thinks I’m heartless and...and cold. And yeah, maybe I am. But it’s not my fault. It...it wasn’t my fault...”

Jack didn’t need her to explained herself. He knew her story inside and out. He knew about all the traumas in her past. And he knew that anyone who faced close to what she did would find it difficult to smile again.

He noticed, when he looked back at her, that a tear fell down her cheek, perfectly reflecting the pale light of the full moon above them. “(Y/N)” He said her name quietly and reached over to her cheek again, but this time she didn’t shoo him away, she let him touch her. Jack took her face in both hands, tilting her head up so their eyes met. “Please don’t cry” his thumbs brushed gently under her eyes, wiping her tears away.

In perhaps a strange way, she looked beautiful when she cried. He had never seen her cry before. The way her eyes sparkled in the moon light made his heart flutter. There was no one more beautiful than her. He could feel himself getting lost in her eyes. Just getting lost. Getting closer, closer, closer to her...

She drew in a sharp breath and pulled her face from his hands. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and looked away from him “we should...get back to the mission” she muttered before taking a few steps away from him back towards the inside of the building.

But she was stopped when a firm hand took her arm. “Fuck the mission” he told her. She looked at his over her shoulder and saw the slight glimpse of desperation in his eyes.

“What?” She whispered, a little shocked but his sudden words “Jack...we have a job to do” she didn’t attempt to worm her way from his sturdy grasp, she quite enjoyed the warm of his ridiculously large hands on her bare arm.

“Fuck the mission” he said again, “you said it yourself, it’s a bust. A shit-show. So now I just wanna spend tonight with you” Jack carefully pulled her back into his chest and resumed the dancing position from earlier.

“Jack-“ she tried but she didn’t exactly know what she wanted to say. She wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity to spend a lovely night with Agent Whiskey, but they had a job to do.

“Fuck it, (Y/N). For tonight. Fuck ‘em all. I just want it to be me and you tonight. I want to show you that not everyone thinks you’re heartless. Some think you are the sweetest, most beautiful girl in the world”

“And who among the people think that, Jack?” She asked with a slightly laugh as he began to gently sway them from side to side, going in circles as well, but slowly.

“I do” he admitted “I think you’re amazing. And you are sweet. You’re kind, you’re funny, you have a mind that puts Ginger’s to shame. And you’re just the prettiest damn girl there ever has been in this world. And I-“ he cut himself of abruptly. The hopeful look in her eyes was too much for him. It made his heart pound in his chest and he would be surprised if she couldn’t hear it.

“You what?” She whispered as she gently ran her thumb over the back of his hand.

He blinked a few times and didn’t answer with words. Instead he leaned down and pressed his lips to her in a soft kiss. Into the kiss he poured every ounce of love he had for her. And she did the same back. Her hand squeezing his as she pushed her lips against his. He pulled his hand and his arm from her and took her face between them instead. Holding her lips against his for as long as possible. Her hands rested on his hips, unsure of where else to put them.

His lips fell from her, but their foreheads pressed together. “I’ve fallen for you” He whispered, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks.

She smiled. It was a faint smile, but it was there. And it was beautiful.

“I’ve fallen for you too, Jack” she said “I’m...I’m sorry about what I said...”

“It was my fault. I should be the one apologising. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said what I did”

“Jack?”

“Yeah darlin’?”

“Kiss me again”

He let out a soft chuckled and brought his lips back down onto hers “anything for you beautiful”

22/01/21

Taglist: @linkpk88 @phoenixhalliwell @lunaserenade @harrys-stan (let me know if you wanted to be added or removed from the list)

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey fanfic #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels fanfic #kingsman: the golden circle #angst #fluff #pedro pascal #fanfic

[doorsclosingslowly]

They've Made of Our Bodies a Bleeding Stair

Jesper and Kaz try to retrieve Inej from Ketterdam without being recognized and murdered—and without Kaz getting ransomed back to Ravka as the the wayward Sun Summoner.

11k | Sun Summoner Kaz AU pt. 2 | Jesper/Kaz, Inej, past Kaz/Darkling content note: non-linear narrative, explicit sex, roleplay of past rape

“I want you to be him.”

“Of course,” Jesper replies. Then, articulately, once his brain’s caught up, “Uh. What?”

“The Darkling.” Kaz has turned his face away. He’s looking at the ramshackle marriage bed that takes up the bulk of this room he’s lured Jesper into. He unerringly picked the right closed door, too; he skipped the squeaky floorboards, as if he knew the exact layout of this—but it’s Kaz. He knows everything, even some dilapidated house in the Kerch countryside. The bed was probably a masterpiece of craftsmanship, when it was carved from some dark wood, a thousand years ago or whatever. The way it looks, it must’ve been old already when the previous owners of this farmhouse got it, and from the state of the house, they abandoned this place decades ago. Quite a lot of the furniture’s missing, either sold off when the place was left or stolen afterwards, but that bed was too worthless already.

The mattress is still there too. Probably fucking teeming with moth larvae and maggots and their combined accumulated shit, so it doesn’t bode too well for Jesper, how forcefully Kaz is staring at it.

“Please say it doesn’t involve the bed.”

“You said yes,” Kaz rasps, which is all the information Jesper needs to start gagging. Fake-gagging, for now, but if he sees even one wriggly little worm he’ll…

Bed. Darkling. That still doesn’t really… Want you to be him—oh—

“Yes, Jesper.” And how the hell with his ramrod tense back still turned towards Jesper—Jesper, who’s done nothing at all, hasn’t said anything except to register his displeasure at the idea of bathing in insect faeces and their squirming little manufacturers!—how the hell Kaz has realized that Jesper’s figured out what he probably means—it must be a confidence trick. Kaz likes those. But how—yeah, it’s not the point, but trying to understand whatever magic Kaz is using on him right now is much, much better for Jesper’s sanity than dwelling on the fact that Kaz might just have insinuated that he wants Jesper to pretend to be the Darkling, specifically the Darkling from that time he told Jesper about back in the Little Palace, the time he threw up after. The time he thought he could suppress his discomfort with touch long enough to seduce the Darkling into a partnership—seduce seduce, which means he wants—to flirt with Jesper? To sleep with Jesper? Is he actually saying he—

Oh. There’s a cracked mirror on the wall above the bed. That’s how Kaz saw his face.

Jesper would chalk the hallucination up to a hangover, but he’s not even drunk. Neither is Kaz, unless this old ruin of a farmhouse they broke into this morning is hiding barrels of wine the local youth haven’t made off with yet. Also, if he was hallucinating Kaz propositioning him he would—well, Jesper at least hopes he’d have enough self-respect not to make himself a stand-in for the man who bought and imprisoned Kaz for two years, controlled him by using his fears and modifying his body and cutting him off from every other person in the whole court, taking every single object he could have used to protect himself, and whatever those weird spines in Kaz’ chest are he’s probably responsible for them too. Jesper would not, actually, like the first and probably only time he’s allowed to kiss Kaz to be some kind of revenge-by-proxy thing where he recites the Darkling’s lines while Kaz swallows back bile, and then Kaz beats him up. Or murders him. It’s pathetic, but Jesper always imagined that kiss a little sweeter. Kissing over Haskell’s corpse. Kissing over the Darkling’s corpse. Kissing over the corpse of some other piece of shit who’s stupid enough to try using Kaz as their possession.

“Just warning you, I don’t have the costume or the script, so don’t expect something worthy of the Komedie Brute,” is what Jesper says instead.

Kaz’ eyebrow quirks. “You’re acted before, haven’t you? Improvised. You can flirt your way into anything. That was the main reason I kept you around.”

“You kept me around because I’m gorgeous, funny, and an incredible shot. I just play myself, if it’s seduction! Why would I improve upon perfection?”

“This isn’t seduction. He’s already locked me in the Little Palace for months at this point. Two escape attempts have failed. This is… speeding up the process,” Kaz says, nonchalantly enough it makes Jesper want to puke.

Which won’t help anything. He’s already agreed. And Kaz doesn’t care about moral objections, only practical ones. “I need more info. I haven’t actually met the Darkling.”

“You’ve met powerful men. You’ve met men who believe their righteous cause entitles them. You’ve met men mired in greed and vengeance—you’ve met me.”

“I like you.”

“Pretend you don’t, then. You used to complain about me in the Slat—of course I know, I knew everything that went on in the Dregs. You hated the way I seemed to know everything, and held it over you—so does he. You disliked my single-minded focus, the way you all seemed like pawns to me, my mockery. The way I held myself as something far superior to you. That’s a start.” Kaz limps a slow quarter circle around Jesper, and his dark eyes are burning with loathing. Jesper would hold him if he could. “You’re not asking why?”

“Uh, now that you mention—”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

Jesper sighs. Of course. He’s never expected anything else. Then he stands up straight, assuming his best the stick in my ass is so long it’s knocked the word fun from my brain pose that hopefully may pass for authoritative and slimes out, “What business, Mr Brekker?”

“Sun Summoner. Or Sunshine. He figured out Brekker’s a fake name on the first day.”

“Kaz Brekker’s a fake name?!” Jesper should have seen that coming, really… what does he even know about Kaz Brekker, truly? Except—

“It’s a name. It’s real enough. It’s feared. It’s mine.” Kaz’s eyes travel over the cobwebbed wall of the farmhouse bedroom, as if he was searching for the next lie to spin. Except that isn’t one of Kaz’ tells—Jesper’s seen him bamboozle and convince marks of the most stupid tales, and when Kaz wants them to believe him, he looks earnest. Young, depending on the role he plays, old, eager, stupid or wise. He doesn’t bother lying to Dregs, or rather: he doesn’t bother convincing them, usually. All his words are backed by the brutality of his cane. Who could be stupid enough to question even his weirdest utterances. “It just happens not to be one I was born with.”

“So what you’re saying is, the Darkling’s just not Kerch enough to get you?” Jesper grins. “Ketterdam, really—you know, I always really liked that about the Barrel, that healthy dose of ‘You are who you want and we don’t give a fuck to correct you.’ Anyway. Got it. You’re Kaz Brekker, but he’s a dick. Mr Sunbeam, what brings you into my office this evening?”

“The fete, Aleks.” Kaz shrugs off his coat, and then the purple kefta, too. He holds out the kefta in front of him, like he’s expecting Jesper to put it on. Well. That’s as good a start as any, and so Jesper turns and lets Kaz dress him into the robe he never wanted to wear.

“Then he says, ‘You must be nervous. After all, there are few gatherings in the Ketterdam slums that involve such spectacle.’” Kaz has sanded down his rasp somewhat, sounding almost smooth and seductive. He goes into a spiel of the Ravkan court and the inferiority of the Barrel that thankfully, he carries all by himself. Jesper wouldn’t even know what to say, except ‘Stop talking shit about the Barrel, you prick’ and that’s not exactly in character.

Kaz’ eyes periodically dart down to Jesper’s hands, and he realizes he’s fidgeting with the hem of the kefta’s sleeves. He stops.

“I am ready,” Kas says in his normal voice. His normal talking to a mark voice. “I realized what this demonstration represents—that I belong to something greater. It is as you said—we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope. We. Together.” He stands up straight. Equally on both his legs. He winces. He’s not holding his cane, Jesper realizes. He’s not wearing his gloves. “I am ready to stand by your side. We should be partners. The Sun and the Dark.”

“Uh… great. We’ll be great together. Do great things. Better partners than enemies. Some of those rumours even freaked me out, you know—that kid with the wind-up toy in his throat—”

“Think before you speak, Jesper,” Kaz hisses. “Never let me lead. Never give me control. Every word is a cue to corral your prey where you want it—whether a compliment or a barely-there hidden threat.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Sometimes.” Kaz meets Jesper’s eyes. The tense mask of his face breaks into a smirk. “To be honest, I find the subtle craft of manipulation is wasted on you. You’ll obey anyway. Let’s go back to the start, and focus.”

Jesper shrugs off the kefta again and then lets Kaz dress him, again. He does his best imitation of Kaz, of that early Kaz before Jesper learned how he takes his coffee and before he saw the brutal twist of his face, that one time when the Dime Lions had Jesper on his knees and shoved a gun in his mouth. He plays the imperious tactician in his office who told his goons to drag Jesper up four flights of stairs with a bag over his head, ready to be shot for his debts, and then sold him on the one thing that gave his life meaning.

He insults Dirtyhands’ father and mother to his face, and gets really into it, too: Ketterdam’s full of idiots who’d miss the love of their life because they were busy trying to pry cobblestones off the streets to sell for half a sausage, and the harbour’s so filthy even the fish won’t fuck in it—keeping the brothels in good fish-ness, haha. Because the fish rent rooms so they don’t get fishy sex diseases from the water. Do fish get diseases from sex?

“Kill me now,” Kaz moans, and that one’s probably deserved.

“Anyway, my Sun Summoner, I’m sure you’ll perform well,” Jesper says with just the tiniest hint of slime.

“I am ready. I realized what this demonstration represents—that I belong to something greater. It is as you said—we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope. We. Together.”

Jesper moves slowly, idly: not caging him in against the bed yet but definitely implying he can and will.

“I am ready to stand by your side. We should be partners. The Sun and the Dark.” Kaz swallows. “‘That means a lot to me. You mean a lot,’ is what you say now.”

How come the Darkling’s not constantly slipping on his own slimy slime trail?

“That means a lot to me.” Jesper gives Kaz a deep, smouldering look. The pockmarks on his cheeks. The jumping muscle in his jaw. The hint of a pained grimace from standing unaided. The boyish grin when he’s totally fucked over another gang boss and gets to gloat. The vicious hatred when someone touches his Crows. Licking powdered sugar off his gloves. “You mean a lot.”

And that’s it. The way Kaz looks at him—this is when the Darkling makes his move.

“I have been waiting for you for so long,” Jesper purrs smarmily, closing his eyes, moving in for the kiss, and—Kaz isn’t there anymore.

It was a single step backwards, because Kaz has hit the edge of the bed already, face blotched with humiliation, and the way he looks at Jesper is—angry is the least terrible interpretation. If he backs out now, Kaz is going to kill him for pitying him or catering to a weakness that honestly—how is not wanting this weak? But Kaz is Kaz, and Jesper’s just Jesper, and—

“Focus,” Kaz hisses. “You own Ravka. You will own the Sun, too. You have waited for this triumph—take it.”

“Why don’t we take this to the—” fuck you, Brekker, for making me say this— “bed, then? Take off your clothes. Don’t be scared.”

That’s a good dig. The kind of insult that looks super caring, unless you know Kaz enough to understand he sees any crack in his image as a dangerous failure. Jesper’s getting the hang of this malicious flirting thing, finally. When this is over, he’ll need to scrub the slime off himself twice.

Kaz looks at Jesper while he disrobes. At him, Jesper hopes against hope, at the real person he’s roped into his worst scheme yet with a goal that’s still totally obscure; at Jesper and not the asshole he’s imagining in his place. Kaz’ eyes trace his cheeks, dance over his shaved head, catch on the lips.

Jesper takes off his boots and gun belt, and the kefta. He undoes the fly of his trousers, pulls his dick out, and stops. He glares at Kaz, daring him to object to the attempt at making this slightly less miserable—Jesper’s the Darkling, he’s in charge, so Kaz can fuck off with his masochism. He’s done undressing. He’s not taking off his shirt or trousers. That layer of cloth stays on.

But Kaz doesn’t object. He stands up straight, naked, brittle, wincing, and then glancing away he mutters, “Ignore the antlers. He hadn’t done that yet.”

Fucking Darkling.

The antlers stick out of Kaz’ collarbones, uneven tines of—possession, mutilation, and Jesper’s eyes catch on a tiny set of grooves on the left one. The scabbed-over cuts underneath. The bruise from the gunshot. And even despite that horror, Kaz has a nice chest. Serious muscle, a street map of scars and a smattering of dark hairs—it feels weirdly improper to stare at him, so Jesper’s eyes dance down to his knobbly left knee and the softly twisted right thigh with its knots of scars, up to the face where he’s biting his harsh pretty mouth, and down again. His dick is nice, fat but not too long, rooted in a tangle of dark curls.

It’s utterly limp.

It’s pathetic, how much that hurts. Of course he isn’t into this. Of course he doesn’t find Jesper remotely attractive. Of course this is just some weird masochistic proxy powerplay for him, some attempt to prove he’s stronger now and can bear it or whatever the fuck, and Jesper’s just the sad stupid body he’s using to enact it.

And of course not even that is enough to make Jesper bow out. Kaz asked.

“Do you want me to suck you off first? Get you in the mood, even a little?” It’s not just for Kaz, that offer, though the whole thing will probably be less painful and awkward if he manages to coax out some arousal. It’s not for younger Jesper, who fantasized about being ordered to blow his boss as penance more often than he likes to admit. No, this is so Jesper can bury his face in Kaz’ pubic hair for a minute. And cry.

Kaz raises an eyebrow. He sounds arch and ice cold when he asks, “Jesper, do you think the Darkling would suck my dick?”

“He should have. Saints, what an asshole,” Jesper shoots back before he can think. “You need a better class of lovers.”

“By which you’re of course implying that you are much better than Aleksander Morozova, the General Kirigan, the Black Heretic, eternal Conqueror and crowned Emperor of Greater Ravka, Salvation to Grishadom, Master of the Fold and He who chained the Sun, et cetera and so fucking on and so fucking forth the Darkling himself?”

“Given I just offered you a blowjob without bringing useless power shit into it, yes.”

“Wrong data, incoherent formula. Correct answer.” Kaz’ grin is crooked. Inordinately fond, and Jesper would have settled for no longer desperately hiding terror but this is—

Yeah.

“I’m going to try to make this roleplay as realistic as I can, but I don’t know if I can forget enough about how to have sex to sink to the Darkling’s level. Also, you don’t happen to have the address of that Grisha Tailor who mutilated you back there? I need them to make my dick look weird. Corkscrew, maybe. Some warts. It’s probably green. I’d peg him for advanced neurological syphilis but I am about to sleep with you, so— ”

“Did you know, Jesper, that the Darkling always wears a gag when he has sex?”

“Shutting up now, boss.”

“Don’t shut up,” Kaz replies instantly. Very, very instantly. “Just keep your disparagements somewhat plausible. And… rare.”

Only to jolt me back, he’s asking. “Got it. So I guess I’m supposed to loom over you a little? How close do you want me?”

“I’ll need to—” Kaz turns around and bends over to root around in the pockets of his coat, and it’s even weirder, worse, looking at his ass when Jesper knows Kaz doesn’t like him back. Kaz tosses over a tiny bottle. Oil. “Give that to me. Tell me to prepare myself.”

“Just saying it once more, boss. You don’t have to go through with—”

“Stop thinking about the Kaz Brekker you know,” Kaz hisses. “Stop anticipating my reactions. Stop caring. You are the Darkling. You have been waiting for the Sun Summoner for decades. You’ve formed your picture of them. This delinquent flinching little rat you bought doesn’t quite fit, not his limp, not his fear of touch, not his pathetic need to assert himself, but, well… you have time. He’ll learn how to make himself fit into the space you provide him. He’ll become your Sun Summoner.”

“Have I told you yet that I’m going to kill that piece of shit?”

“You’ve mentioned it, once or twice. In the last hour.”

Jesper bares his teeth: a grin, but not. A promise. “Good. I’ll hold his mouth open while you stuff him full of black powder and set him on fire.”

“Stop stalling, Jesper. That won’t make it any easier.”

That won’t make it not have happened.

“If you’re sure this will help.”

Kaz nods.

“Lie down on the bed, then. Is there a—no, no pillows here, roll up the coat and slide it under your hips.” Jesper turns his face away, listening to the timid, stuttering squelches of Kaz stretching his asshole. Jesper doesn’t know what would be worse: if, after everything, he can’t get it up… or if he can.

Well. He’ll have to. His dick will just have to obey the dictates of the situation, just as Kaz’ body was made into the Sun Summoner. He’s young. He’s still looking at Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, naked, who asked Jesper to sleep with him, and that’ll have to be enough. They’ve gotten this far. They’ll force their way through. That’s how you do it. That’s how you gamble. How you lose big. Kaz might have once tried to explain to him something about sunk costs and throwing good money after bad, but Jesper ignored him that night and lost a hundred and twenty kruge to Specht, and he’s never looked back.

“Okay, Mr Sunshine. Let’s consummate our fucking partnership,” he grinds out when Kaz has gone quiet, takes the bottle to slick up his own uncooperative dick, and carefully, he climbs on top of Kaz. The clothes were a good decision: Kaz barely flinches when he kneels in-between his legs and pulls the sleeve over his hand to carefully guide his right knee to rest on Jesper’s thigh.

Kaz is staring up at his face, breathing, just breathing. The antlers in his collarbone frame his bright face—brighter than the candles should allow, like maybe—and his focus is rigid and he’s breathing, breathing quickly—

“Is this teaching you anything yet?”

“Not really,” Kaz rasps, after too long. “Or—I think—maybe it was—” he glances at Jesper’s pathetic, unhappy limp dick. His face twists. “I thought you were into me.”

This is— “I love you. Kaz Brekker, whoever you are. I don’t give a fuck about this Sun Summoner bullshit. I love you. I love you,” because this is—Jesper can’t do this. He can’t. His elbows are locked: he can’t drop his body any lower. He can't go lower than this. “I love you,” until it’s finally over. “I love you. I love you.”

☼

“And I’m telling you again, I don’t know what he does Tuesday evenings,” Jesper hisses.

“You were still with the Dregs, three months ago!” Kaz is wiping his cane clean. It didn’t even really get dirty—they mostly used kitchen knives to do the deed, and in the case of a maidservant who unwisely came to work in the middle of the night, a bullet that Jesper’s already collected and reshaped into something functional, because he might not get to buy new ones. Desperation. Frugality. The Kerch are rubbing off on him. It’s good, though. The fact he’s cleaning the wood is all the confirmation Jesper will likely ever get that Kaz does like the new cane Jesper made him from a cute straight rowan sapling, reinforced with the metal scavenged from all but the most essential buttons on their hodgepodge of clothes. At least there’s one thing of Jesper’s he values. “How can you not know the behavioural patterns of your boss? Are you that brainless?”

“No-one knew what he was up to! He barely came by the Slat. He wasn’t that interested in us.”

“You worked for Per Haskell, Jesper; you worked for that man for years—for nearly as many as I did, when you ran off to Ravka—and now you attempt to convince me you barely know his name?” Kaz still doesn’t look quite as harsh as he used to, or maybe that’s just Jesper hankering for their past. Well, he didn’t used to explain his plans to Jesper as if he was an imbecile—but then, he didn’t used to need Jesper. He had more stooges back then. Now, he only has one. Ally. Friend.

If it’s as weird for him, though, as it is for Jesper being back in Ketterdam after he didn’t die on his revenge suicide plot and the city didn’t, either—well, he might still get murdered for stealing the Sun Summoner or skipping out on debts or something completely unrelated, and Ketterdam’s… well, she’s weathering having her ruling class torn apart twice in short order, once by the Darkling’s conquest and now, by the slow collapse of the Darkling’s overstretched realm after he’s lost his saint/weapon/doll.

The Barrel’s fine—as glary and miserable as it ever was, anyway, but though Kaz would probably insist most of the Mercher’s Council had their hands in gang business one way or the other, their reach was indirect, mediated and secretive enough for the chaos tearing up the Geldstraat not to trickle down as quickly into the slums. And anyway, the involvement of the merchers only ever made life worse for most people. The plight of the rich can only be a blessing.

Right now, they’re inside a nice place in the Zelver district. Close enough to power to feel the death throes, and even disregarding the political manoeuvring and debris and panic everywhere, just looking at the house from the outside made Kaz twitchy, somehow.

His energy almost matched Jesper’s trigger finger.

It’s Haskell’s house, so that unease makes sense.

Haskell’s expensive secret new house far outside the Barrel that they’re despoiling now. They looked as out of place in the beautiful Zelver district as any Barrel rats, with their heads shorn close to the bone so they’ll look different enough to not get recognized and faces wiped with dirt, dressed in a melange of Ravkan clothes they haven’t found a chance to replace yet and tawdry Barrel flash for everything else.

Kaz was wearing two coats when he entered the house, an old rose and amber paisley trench that even Jesper admitted is hideous, though now it’s splattered with blood that actually really ties the colour scheme together. Still gross though, and luckily slung over the chair. Along with the purple kefta Kaz hid underneath, the one he still hasn’t given back. Or burned, which is what they did to the other Ravkan overcoats. On the streets his two coats bulked up his frame so much he looked like a kid that Jesper’s never met, dressed up to play a gangster’s role. He looked nothing like the Sun Summoner anymore, and only somewhat like Jesper’s imagined baby Dirtyhands crawling out straight from the harbour, fifty kilos sopping wet and ready to kill a man and feast on his entrails.

Now, he’s stripped down to a ruffled red shirt over a green undershirt—he conspicuously shunned the yellow one next to it on the washing line—and light blue pinstripe trousers. The shirt is a little large in the shoulders, and he’s cuffed the trousers. They stole everything from a cottage on the edge of Ketterdam. Not quite Barrel flash, but almost—alike in style but with better fabric, something a town edge kid probably bought to look like a cool gangster. Or something Jesper would have bought to look special for a very special date. If he squints, he can almost imagine—it’s the morning after, and—

Ever since the Little Palace the idea of Kaz naked has totally lost its lustre. The idea of his muscular but scrawny, scarred chest, his wiry tattooed arms, his ambiguously demonic hands—it’s all overlaid now with a flimsy ugly sleeveless yellow paper taffeta gown. With normal hands, kept bare as humiliation.

But maybe—maybe they sat together, not on a log in a forest but on a sofa this time, and then in the morning Kaz was cold and he stole all of Jesper’s clothes to wear over his own. That’s much better. (Maybe he just wanted Jesper naked all day…)

Jesper won’t let the Darkling steal his fantasies, too. They’re—

Ouch. Fucking ouch.

Jesper really shouldn’t have added tiny spiky worms to the side of the cane, but Kaz’ indignation was just too funny.

“Let me make this clear—” Kaz rasps, once he’s regained Jesper’s full attention. Half-full. ‘Like he’s plundered Jesper’s wardrobe’ is still such a good look on him. “We are both hunted. Neither of us can afford to be caught outside on the streets of Ketterdam and let whoever saw us live. If we’re going to make Haskell’s house our temporary base of operations, we need to make his death as inconspicuous as possible. We cannot safely anticipate which of his visitors to eliminate and which to fool unless we know whether they, in turn, may be missed.”

“Well,” Jesper mutters. “Mitki might come by. If the neighbours don’t chase him off.”

Kaz raises a single, dirt-encrusted eyebrow.

“Mitki’s the newest lieutenant. Might have made it this—”

“Not Anika? I can understand why a flake like you didn’t rise in the Dregs ranks, but she—”

“Ambush. Dime Lions, five weeks after you disappeared.”

“Rotty?”

“Slit throat. Still no clue who did it.”

“Specht? Pim? Neeta? Big Bol?”

“Razorgulls, knife, last year. Bullet to the head, same day. Hellgate. Hellgate.”

“Muzzen? Ruk? Keeg?”

“Another ‘Gull stabbing, just before I left. Hellgate, again. Keeg just disappeared, though. Might still be alive somewhere over the True Sea, if he’s clever. Not that he was, he’s probably floating, poor sod.” Jesper shrugs. After a while, it just gets too much: the beginning of the Dregs’ end is seared into his brain, but there aren’t enough synapses for the tenth—or fiftieth—dead friend to hurt as much. “There’s a reason why I didn’t think twice about running when I lost those fifty thousand. Like I said, boss, it’s been a shitshow since you left. Haskell never wanted for new ones, since he got his kids fresh off the street, but he just stopped giving any shit whatsoever, and since you weren’t there to pick up the slack… well, I can see why he didn’t care, now.”

Jesper spares a bitter look for the mountain of kruge next to Haskell’s foot, the mountain he offered Kaz as soon as he saw him, long before Kaz even tried to hack off both his hands and feet with a dull meat cleaver. Long before Kaz had to settle for cutting down to the bone and then wrenching Haskell’s extremities from their sockets by sheer force of hatred, while Jesper puked into the kitchen sink. The mountain he’d never have amassed as the boss of a gang as shambolic as the last years of the Dregs.

The mountain that’s going to pay off Inej’s indenture tomorrow.

Haskell allowed her to rot there. It’s only fair he pays for her freedom with his life.

“Everyone we could use is gone. And you…” Kaz tips Jesper’s chin up with his cane. The world shimmies a little. “You, of all the old Dregs, survived.”

Jesper shrugs again. This is too much to confess to Kaz, of all cruel bastards, probably far too much, but—they’re sitting in the living room of Jesper’s former boss, the man who sold Kaz out to the Darkling and used the prize money to live in luxury, while letting his gang die on increasingly pointless ill-planned errands. The other end of the table is still flecked and puddled with slow-drying blood—not to mention the corpse, or corpse-pieces, laying there—but over here, they have a bottle of expensive whisky they found in a cabinet and they’re trading swigs from the bottle, all bitter and clean.

“I didn’t take it too well, when you and Inej just disappeared, and then my friends kept dying. Might have gone on a couple of benders. Might have lost some games. Might have lost some fights. Might have had some sexual encounters with people who turned out to be massive creeps. Consequently, I may not have been technically around to be asked to go on some of these errands, or perhaps I just didn’t notice because I was drunk.”

“Jesper.” Kaz doesn’t even sound surprised. Wow. Thanks for having faith in me, boss.

It’s not really that humiliating, though, now he’s said it out loud. He spent two years making bad decisions and occasionally braiding Inej’s hair. Kaz spent that time getting turned into a doll. Who can say what’s worse? He takes another deep gulp and grins. “You know me, boss. I need some external structure in life. I really need a commandeering asshole dragging me into his schemes to be my best self.”

“And yet, you outwitted the Darkling.”

“That wasn’t difficult, to be fair. Tell them I’m Grisha, search the Little Palace, shoot Kaz Brekker in the head, get executed…” Jesper trails off. When the silence grows teeth, he takes a pull of whisky that’s so desperate it makes him cough, but Kaz is still letting him stew.

They don’t really need to talk about it, though. No value in going over what happened in the Little Palace. No value in discussing anything. Everything is fine now. Yes, Jesper did want to kill Kaz. Yes, he’ll die for Kaz.

And they both know why.

Kaz steals the bottle. It’s incredible, actually, Jesper was just holding it—well, maybe he’s a little more drunk than he thought, but Kaz would probably like being complimented on his pickpocketing. “I didn’t even see you steal that bottle,” Jesper says.

“I’d be angry you’re drunk,” Kaz rasps. “But you’ve been completely useless at all stages of the current plan so far. And the previous one, by your planning—I always forget, in my amazement at what you accomplished, that you failed.”

He says that, but his cheeks are flushed pink with alcohol. His pupils are wide when he looks at Jesper. He raises the bottle to his lips and tips his head back, swallowing what should have easily been ten more swigs of whisky. Thieving bastard.

☼

When Jesper awakes on Haskell’s second softest chaise longue in the receiving room—neither of them was particularly eager to climb into Haskell’s bed, and, in Jesper’s case, not particularly still able to walk up the stairs either—his mouth is dry, his bladder full and the light is poking his brain even through closed curtains and eyelids. And Kaz—he searches the whole house after finishing his business, but yes, it’s true—Kaz is gone.

So are his cane and his current Barrel flash coat and the kefta, which means Kaz is probably safe. Well. As safe as the escaped Sun Summoner can be. Not kidnapped, at least. More alive than anyone stupid enough to cross Kaz’ path.

He’s taken Haskell’s kruge, and left a note.

In Kaz’ sharp hand, the note reads, “STAY.”

It’s underlined three times, and on the back side Kaz has written, “or you will die,” which to be fair is pretty ambiguous.

‘Die’ as in, ‘I mistrust your competence and assume you’ll get yourself killed if you move a finger?’ Or as in, ‘I’m warning you I won’t go out of my way to save you?’ Perhaps it’s a straightforward ‘Disobey and I am going to personally murder you and piss on your corpse?’ All are very real possibilities, knowing Kaz.

To really understand the message, Jesper needs to get into Kaz’ mood when he woke up—hungover, but how much? Enough he hates the entire world, or so much he hates Jesper more? Also, his current way of thinking. Jesper’s usefulness. A point in favour is the fact that Jesper saved him from a fate worse than death, but on the other hand, Jesper forgot to extract a deal from him and Kaz is so Kerch it hurts, which means he’s pared down solidarity and reciprocity and love into exchange, into deals, and all Jesper’s offering are the first three. They shared a bottle of whisky next to the corpse of their old boss, though, and in general Kaz looked like he was having fun more than once on their dirty, miserable long trek out of Ravka. Way more fun than he had in the majestic Little Palace. Also, Jesper’s incredibly likeable. He’s beautiful and funny and stupidly in love with Kaz without asking anything in return, so really it only makes sense that Kaz has finally succumbed to his charm.

(He dug his hand into Jesper’s hair, that night on the fallen tree and twice afterwards, but—maybe that was only to make Jesper squirm.)

Well, he enjoyed Jesper’s company while they fled from Ravka to Ketterdam, at least. That’s the crux of it.

So why would Kaz anticipate that Jesper might want to run anywhere? There’s a well-stocked kitchen here. A far more sensible assumption would be that Jesper might want to make some waffles or go on a morning jog. No, not that one. Enjoy a lavish breakfast. Have a bath, perhaps, after spending two weeks crawling through the Ravkan forest and the Shu countryside and stowed in the belly of a wine cargo ship and then countryside again, this time Kerch. Jesper’s feet hurt just thinking about it, and that Kaz managed to get here, even at the half-speed they settled on, speaks to—well, the same bull-headed masochism as always, but the fact he still refused to even consider stealing a cart or horse or approach any larger settlement before Ketterdam means he must be even more terrified of the Darkling than Jesper can imagine. He refused to leave any trace whatsoever. (And yet he’s back in Ketterdam, the one city in the world he was connected to before the Little Palace, because…?)

Ketterdam is the only city, village, collection of buildings and people they’ve been to for weeks, which means it’s the first chance Jesper has to gamble, but—even he knows not to stake anything on the possibility there’s someone left in the Barrel who doesn’t know about Jesper Fahey, he who owes Pekka Rollins fifty thousand kruge and just skipped town, kill immediately with extreme prejudice.

Well, Rollins is dead now—the only gang boss courageous or aggrieved or hungry enough to try and covertly resist the Darkling, go figure—but whoever’s head Lion now probably won’t even let Jesper try to spin an argument about how he really owes that money to ‘Pekka Rollins’ Dime Lions’, not any successor organizations. No such luck, and anyway, people stupid enough to bounce on their debts are fair game to any gang in the Barrel. They don’t cooperate on much, not even for mutual benefit, but murdering dishonest gamblers? That’s a team sport.

Jesper’s last recklessly suicidal plan worked out fantastic, so maybe he should find a card table. His luck’s turned. He could win millions.

Which Kaz definitely would anticipate, and warn him away from. Kaz is a buzzkill. Just because Jesper’s going to get murdered on sight in the Barrel…

Because Jesper’s gonna get murdered on sight in the Barrel.

If Kaz wants to rebuild his status in the Barrel, there’s no bigger liability than Jesper. And Kaz wants to, surely. He worked his way up inside the Dregs carefully and diligently, spent more time than anyone sane would inside a tiny attic office adding up numbers, and sucked up to an utter piece of shit like Haskell, just so he could one day become a Barrel boss. And now, to rise again, he has to cut off the dead weight.

Which means Jesper.

That’s why he left.

It’s not even a betrayal. They don’t have an agreement for life after reaching Ketterdam, let alone one that says Jesper can follow him forever and ever just like in the good old days. Inej—but Inej’s actually useful to a new Barrel boss, as soon as her indenture’s paid. Jesper’s the weak link here. Jesper’s screwed.

Which doesn’t mean he won’t go down fighting. He knows the way to the Menagerie—the quickest way, the scenic route, the paths least commonly trafficked by Pigeons and the ones usually avoided by staadwatch or gangsters. He knows Kaz well enough to guess which one he’s taken. If he hasn’t woken too late—and by the sun’s position, it’s still early in the morning—then he has a chance to pass Kaz off and… insult him? Beg? Cry? Sell his father’s soul for a position in the new Dregs? Maybe he’ll just have to wear a Komedie Brute mask for the rest of his life and it’ll be fine. He’ll figure it out later.

Jesper draws his shoulders up to his ears while he scurries through empty alleyways, the collar of his fancy pseudo-Barrel flash coat turned up. He’s almost glad that Kaz made him go hatless and shaved bald—thoroughly unstylish and un-Jesper enough he might survive the morning—but there are drawbacks to the disguise in the damp chill.

Also, the disguise isn’t good enough. After some minutes, Jesper notices that some clusters of metal stay at roughly the same distance to him. Eight clusters of—round, small, definitely mostly kruge with a few Ravkan coins thrown in. Thirteen guns. A rifle. Two of the coin clusters are fairly close together and move in unison. Jesper’s dealing with seven shadows, then.

That’s—a lot.

Jesper’s had a little more training being a Durast now, but what he could really use now is combat training. He hasn’t even been in a battle in over a month, unless you count handing Kaz knives while he carves up Per Haskell, and since Jesper had to puke right after, you probably shouldn’t. He’s fought rabbits. Jesper’s sure fought some rabbits in Ravka. Two deer, too.

He could probably escape his pursuers. It would take time, though, time Jesper doesn’t have when Kaz is leaving him behind without a word. He’ll just have to kill them quickly.

At least there’s one of his favourite surveillance detection routes nearby. One of the rare aboveground tunnels in Ketterdam, not used by Pigeons for obvious reasons of creepiness and also because it just leads to a big courtyard behind a factory: a courtyard that’s easy to escape, when you know the gate’s lock is broken. Kaz showed it to him, just weeks after Jesper got recruited, after the second time the ‘Gulls got the drop on him and beat him to a pulp. In the courtyard, he made Jesper shoot some sparrows and some pigeons to prove his worth. Not crows, though, and for a year Jesper believed that detail was just thrown in to test whether Jesper would obey nonsensical orders. It’s still a plausible explanation.

He’ll just have to ask Kaz, after he begs him for a role in the new Dregs. After he kills these seven pursuers.

If.

He catches the first man off-guard and blows his head off when he exits the tunnel, but after that, it’s a stand-off. Jesper, hiding behind a massive wood barrel for cover, against six men ducked into the mouth of the tunnel.

Jesper manages to pick off another man by firing into the tunnel and blindly redirecting the bullet into the first nook, but the second attempt at using that trick doesn’t hit anything, and neither does the third. He has eight bullets left now, and five enemies. Even Jesper can tell that’s bad odds.

Retreating across the courtyard, though—the first few meters are fine, there are enough wine barrels and he can just dash from one to another, slightly nudging bullets off their course so none hit him.

Those guys have far too many bullets left, though, by the time Jesper’s forty meters away from the gate. Forty meters without cover. His pursuers aren’t bad shots either—likely Dime Lions, because there’s no way a Liddy would ever get so close that Jesper has to redirect their bullet—and they’re cautious enough that only two of them are crouched behind that barrel next to the tunnel, now, while the rest are still hidden inside.

This might get a little tough—but if Jesper starts manipulating bullets more obviously, will that information travel to the Little Palace? They know the Sun Summoner escaped with a Fabrikator. Is he painting a target on Kaz’ back?

Is he—

Bloodcurdling screams and groans, and Jesper’s too far away to hear any thwacks but his senses have expanded and he knows that metal coating intimately. Knows that cane.

Kaz emerges from the tunnel opening, Inej behind him, and—

Boom.

The Dime Lion’s shot him.

Right in the chest, and Kaz stumbles, falls to his knees.

Keels over.

Jesper shoots wildly while he runs over, whirling the bullets around the barrel that the Dime Lions are hiding behind—two left, Kaz wouldn’t have let any of the ones in the tunnel escape—desperate to hit something or at least keep them distracted and scared long enough to get there, or for—Inej’s pulling Kaz back by his coat, and she’s still wearing a sheer Menagerie dress, she probably doesn’t have any knives to protect—nothing’s hit yet, nothing’s hit, and all Jesper’s bullets are in the air whizzing around but he’s not hitting anything and Kaz is down and Kaz—

Kaz pushes himself to his knees, and then he stands up.

He’s breathing hard, and in the ugly rose/amber/bloodstain trench there’s a hole above his heart, sooty and burnt, but he���s still alive, Kaz is alive, he’s—

“What are you?” a Dime Lion gasps. Jesper’s finally got a bead on her. He sinks three bullets into her head.

“I just killed…” The other one is less lucky, and Jesper only manages to hit his stomach before he runs out of airborne bullets. He’ll die, but it won’t be quick.

“I crawled out of the harbour before. I’ll do it again,” Kaz rasps, and before the Dime Lion manages more than “Dirty—” a wet squelch informs Jesper of his demise.

That’s all of them.

“Kaz, you—” Inej’s much quicker at Kaz’ side, but he moves away before she can touch him to check his injury. Moves quickly enough he’s probably not on death’s door. He is a good actor, though. She looks at Jesper, and he’s about to join her in begging Kaz to get some medical aid, at least, but then Kaz shrugs off the ruined trench coat.

“Those kefta aren’t entirely useless,” Kaz rasps, grinning like an amused fucking asshole who almost gave Jesper a heart attack.

And then, Inej wraps herself around Jesper.

“You’re alive! I was terrified,” she shouts against his chest, slapping his back and grabbing as if she can’t decide whether to kill Jesper or never let go. “I thought you got yourself killed! You just disappeared, no word, I thought—”

“I may have lost a game where the stake was fifty thousand kruge?”

“You—Jes—” Inej squeezes him harder. “I told you to stop. I’d rather have you, with me, than have you die trying to pay me off.”

“I almost won! But there was no chance I’d get out of it, without indenturing myself, and—it all worked out, didn’t it? You’re free! Which reminds me…” Jesper takes off his own coat—blue and green and purple wave patterns, very fancy, a bit on the small side for him—and lays it onto Inej’s shoulders. It suits her, too—it drowns her a little, sure, but the way the coat reaches down to her ankles looks regal, and anyway, Kaz is a good sewer. He’ll fix this. “Can’t have you catching a cold.”

Before she can reply—tell him again she wasn’t worth risking his life and freedom in every card game he could for two years, when she definitely is, she’s Inej, he’ll do anything for her—he runs away and searches the dead Dime Lions for a new coat for himself, all their money, the rifle, and picks up the used bullets too. Knowing Kaz, he’ll want them to leave this place soon, and Jesper can’t very well try to convince his boss he needs to keep his sharpshooter around when he has no bullets left.

Speaking of—Jesper saunters over to Kaz when he’s done. With his most careless grin, he says, “I want my goodbye kiss before you ditch me.”

“I left you a note,” Kaz rasps. “I should have remembered you can’t read.”

Which as good as counts as a promise that Kaz didn’t intend to leave him behind: that, and the adrenaline of an easy gunfight has Jesper grinning widely. This is the life he wanted. The life he yearned for during the last two miserable years. The Crows are back, baby. He asks, “What now, boss?”

“We leave. Before anyone comes to investigate those gunshots.”

“Novyi Zem?”

“No,” Kaz rasps, just as Inej says, “They’ll let us drown.”

“They what?”

“Move.” Kaz starts limping past the factory, and then doubles back one street over—in the general direction away from the sea. Jesper and Inej quickly flank him. “I went to the Fifth Harbour before I paid off Inej’s indenture. It’s near empty. Old man there said no boats go to Novyi Zem or Eames Chin right now, and no boats come back. Because nothing gets unloaded. Kerch ships can’t dock there. They all get stranded at sea.”

“People started running when Ravka cut us off from the continent,” Inej mutters. “Before the invasion. And now the Darkling’s gone, the Kerch Grisha are either running or dead.”

“Too many refugees, apparently. Something about culture and scroungers and economic migrants. Novya Zem’s closed its ports to Kerch.”

“But I’m Zemeni—”

“You’re just a person. Those borders don’t exist to help you. The harbour watch don’t exist for you, the government doesn’t exist for you—if there’s a choice between cementing their power and your life, every bureaucrat worth their salt will choose the former.”

Jesper wants to argue, but actually, he’d trust Kaz over Novyi Zem a million times. Kaz saved his life when Ketterdam and Kerch would have swallowed him whole. Novyi Zem isn’t any different. “So we’re stuck in Ketterdam, then, where I’ll get shot on sight and you’ll easily get tracked by the Darkling. I only remember one safehouse that’s still uncompromised, as of last month anyway, unless you think we should go back to Haskell’s, boss?”

“Inej,” Kaz rasps. “That shop over there. Buy us a cart. We’re going to Lij.”

“What’s in Lij, boss? Why Lij? Where is Lij, anyway?”

But Kaz doesn’t answer him. Even aboard the cart, directing their new donkey with a seemingly perfect grasp of the roads leading to a small southern Kerch town none of them have ever been to, he refuses to elaborate. He looks tense, though. Jesper reshapes his many new bullets while he walks alongside. If there’s a fight waiting for them in Lij, they’re going to win.

☼

Kaz paces the length of the room. Window, door, window, door—there’s not much space beside the marriage bed, and the air draft of his passing caresses Jesper’s shorn head.

He’s put back together now, dressed in his socks and his boots and his underpants and his trousers and his gloves, though his torso’s only covered by the open purple kefta. Despite the cane, he limps more heavily than before he trekked for weeks through the Ravkan forest. He’s not fully recovered yet, if he’ll ever be.

Jesper’s on the floor. He climbed off the bed—off Kaz, after he ruined Kaz’ stupid get proxy-raped by the proxy-Darkling again plan. He said what he said, and the silence that followed was all the answer he’ll get, and then he sat down on the floor. It’s as good a place to wait as any. Probably more hygienic than the bed, anyway. He watched Kaz dress, until he almost looked like the Barrel lieutenant they both wish he was still allowed to be, and now he’s watching Kaz Brekker Dirtyhands the Sun Summoner pace holes in the old dusty floor of an abandoned farmhouse an hour’s walk outside of the small Kerch town of Lij.

He’s not getting murdered, though. Not for what he almost did. Not for what he said. That’s as good as this was ever going to go.

“It was worse this time.” Kaz directs his rasp towards the floor. He doesn’t stop moving. “I froze. Why was it—it was you. I knew you were—you’d never—with you it should have been more tolerable. Not worse.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss.” Jesper still can’t decide whether he should be ashamed that he was too squeamish to go through with it. Kaz doesn’t seem as angry as he could be, that Jesper totally fucked up this whatever-it-was-supposed-to-be. Not the mocking disappointment he doles out at Jesper’s predictable failures—gambling, distractibility, lateness, no impulse control and so on—and not the seething hatred when Jesper does something he hasn’t anticipated.

“I turned it over and over in my mind. For a year. What I did wrong. How I could have turned this to my advantage. How to excise this weakness. I thought I’d found—but there’s nothing.”

Jesper would offer to brutally desecrate the Darkling’s corpse again, but it clearly doesn’t help. Kaz won’t let this go. Never mind that he was a teenage thief imprisoned in a palace. Never mind it was him against the whole entourage of the most powerful Grisha. The man who crowned himself Emperor.

Sometimes you’re just fucked. And there’s nothing you can do. Life isn’t fair.

“There is a way to beat him,” Kaz hisses. “And I will find it.”

“You did. Sort of.”

“What—”

Jesper grins a shark-grin. “You’re not in Ravka now, are you?”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why doesn’t it? No, boss, listen—he didn’t beat you alone, either, right? He had his Tailor making you into a doll. His Fabrikators locking your cage. His soldiers. Hell, Haskell selling you out—so really, it’s your victory that I found you.” Now that Jesper’s trying to explain his gut reaction, it just seems more and more logical. “Why can’t you have your own gang? You practically rescued yourself. You took a look at a boy who’d have gotten shot in a few weeks because he couldn’t pay is debts and he couldn’t stop fucking gambling—you had me dragged up to your office. You took that chance. You saved my life so I could save yours. That’s… planning ahead. Planning years ahead. Well done.”

Kaz finally, finally stops pacing. He sinks into the mattress just slightly to the right of Jesper, so he can sprawl out his legs without making contact. He looks at Jesper, but he’s silent, and his face isn’t giving anything away.

At first, that makes it feel like he’s actually listening. Actually considering what Jesper told him, and agreeing. Kaz is a quick thinker, though. He doesn’t need this long to realize that Jesper’s correct, which means he’s coming up with counterarguments—arguments why actually, he’s still weak or whatever and needs to force himself—and Jesper really, really can’t watch him do this to himself again. Why this, anyway? Why is this the weakness he fixated on?

“Why is that creep so obsessed with making you touch people, anyway?”

“Because it’s easy. Necessary. Even a child does it. Touch is what makes us human, and the Sun Summoner is human, whatever lies he tells himself,” Kaz recites. His eyes are bright. Wet.

“Bullshit. You terrorized the Barrel for years and it didn’t matter at all that you never touched anyone. It was just you. It didn’t even really sink in for me, that you don’t touch people, until I saw the way he dressed you up, how miserable you were.” That’s probably a good place to leave it, but Jesper’s livid. Jesper could mince and mangle fifty Darklings with the pure force of his loathing, and there’s not even a single one around here. That energy has to go somewhere. “You’re trying to tell me the Ravkan fucking palace couldn’t change protocol a little and adapt? If it never mattered in the Barrel, it never mattered at all. He just picked something. If you’d been allergic to shellfish, that’s the only food he would have served you, and he would have said you’re weak for your windpipe swelling up. He wasn’t able control you because touch made you weak. When you’re in control, it doesn’t matter. Because you fucking kill whoever touches you. You don’t bow to them. They bow to you.”

Kaz doesn’t reply. He doesn’t look away from Jesper, though. He just stares down at him, with his eyes still wide and still wet. He mutters, “You’ve turned quite opinionated in my absence, Jesper.”

“In your presence. I’m quoting your words back to you—sort of, it was about the cane, and I’ve forgotten half of it. But you were right. You were always right.” Jesper laughs. “See? Now you’re teaching yourself through time and space! Your masterplan is incredibly fucking elaborate!”

“My—I’m not falling for it.” Kaz is grinning, though. “If I agree now—by this time tomorrow you’ll have done something incredibly stupid and you’ll throw the whole Everything I do is your triumph because you saved me thing in my face. I’m not responsible for your awful jokes!”

Pretending to wipe tears from his eyes, Jesper wails, “My plan! My ingenious plan! Foiled by the dastardly Dirtyhands, oh no!”

Kaz laughs at him. Kaz laughs, and laughs, and Jesper joins him.

It takes a while before Kaz stops, gasping for breath. No-one in Ravka’s ever told a good joke, Jesper decides, because he’s made way funnier jokes before that Kaz didn’t even chuckle at, but gift horses and mouths and so on. Colour’s returned to Kaz’ face: his cheeks are blotchy and red, even after his breathing’s evened out. Kaz mumbles, “You know, that’s exactly how I imagined it.”

What? Oh. Jesper’s sprawled on the floor, leaning back on his elbows, his shirt pulled out of his trousers—his trousers, which are open, and he still hasn’t tucked away his dick. He forgot. There were more far important things to do, and now… well, he probably looks more debauched than Kaz in his purple kefta, with just his prick exposed to the chilly night-time Kerch air while he lounges on the ground. He ghosts a finger over it.

“Do you want me to—do you want to watch, boss?”

“I’d—” Kaz swallows. “Saints.”

Jesper turns a little, so Kaz can get a better view. He doesn’t undress, in case that’s an integral part of the fantasy, just gently trails his fingers down his still-limp dick—though it’s definitely waking up now—and looks up at Kaz.

Kaz doesn’t meet his eyes anymore, but that’s fine: more than fine, when he’s alternately looking at Jesper’s cock and at Jesper’s lips. Jesper darts out his tongue, and Kaz’ pupils blow even wider. Jesper licks down his palm and starts jerking off in earnest. “Hey, boss,” Jesper mutters, and when the head jerks up Jesper blows him a tiny kiss.

“What do you think about?” Kaz rasps.

“I just look at you. That’s enough. I like your face.” The tiny quirk of his lips, the way his eyes dart back down. “What are you thinking about, boss?”

“I didn’t expect you to enjoy this as much.”

“Seriously, boss, I know you’re not that stupid. How many times—”

“Not me,” Kaz mumbles. He gestures obscurely at the room. Jesper. The wall. The floor. The floor again. “This. It’s—not proper. Demeaning.”

“I wasn’t feeling demeaned until you started talking—”

“I was going to make you my right hand, once I took over the Dregs. Not my whore—”

“You were?” slips out, small and breathless, before Jesper remembers that this is for Kaz. This for him to enjoy. The warmth expanding in Jesper’s ribcage can wait. “There’s nothing bad about this. You like it. I like it. I don’t see anyone else in this room, and even if—a very clever guy once told me that you don’t bow to the world. You make the world bow to you.”

☼

It’s scratching that wakes Jesper. Scratching like the sharpening of a knife, quick, impatient, desperate—but it’s Kaz who’s on watch right now, Kaz who found this shallow cave they’re spending the night in, and Kaz wouldn’t let any danger come this close unnoticed. Unfought. Kaz wouldn’t just leave Jesper to his fate—would he?

He wouldn’t. At least not yet.

Kaz is sitting at the mouth of the cave. The moon drenches his matted dirty hair in its white glory, his handmade trousers, his naked wiry chest. His chest which he hasn’t bared for a second since Jesper gave him the kefta, even pulling off the Sun Summoner chemise that they tore into threads while still wrapped up in both of his coats: but now he’s half-naked, head bending down to look at those tines sticking out of his clavicle. Those antlers, those keratinized tumours, those bone cancers. Whatever those mutations are, he wants them gone.

In the right hand, he’s holding the knife that Jesper made from buttons so they could cut the blanket into trouser-shapes. In the left hand, he’s holding one of the protrusions growing from his body.

And then, he starts hacking again.

Viciously, helplessly, like a sick rabbit mutated into its own trap. He misses, once, and the knife sinks into his collarbone: but silently he tears it out again and cuts at the cancerous bone, and the knife’s sharp but the only dents that Jesper can see are tiny, glowing, lighting up the knife that’s flecked with his own blood.

☼

Jesper stirs the potato chunks. Thankfully, the old hearth still works, at least after he and Inej fed it with firewood they brought from the market, and so he’s cooking potatoes in butter and water. He mashes them up with some heavy wooden implement he found in a cabinet, once they’re soft enough—he washed it of course; he doesn’t want to eat moth shit—and then Inej passes him a wooden board of carrots in neat small identical pieces. Show-off. Jesper loves her so fucking much.

“Careful, don’t let it burn,” she says, twirling her knife, and Jesper—well, he meant to stir the pot of what’s apparently becoming stamppot. He did. He didn’t mean to think of how he’ll get Inej and Kaz out of Ravka—

And that’s when Kaz limps into the kitchen. He wasn’t still asleep when Inej and Jesper went into town to get some food—as if the Bastard of the Barrel ever sleeps in, even when he’s far from his titular Barrel—but he begged off the trip. He told them to say they’re working for Johannus Rietveld, if they’re asked, who’s apparently inherited this farm, but—they weren’t asked a thing, anyway, and who knows what Kaz did in the meantime. Who knows what weird cover identity he’s cooked up that they haven’t yet had to invoke. And whether it’s weirder than the one Jesper just created.

Jesper gives him a tender little smile. “Had a good morning?”

“No.”

“Because of last—”

But Kaz can read Jesper at least as well as he can read himself. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he rasps. “You’re the least terrifying person I’ve ever met.” Which probably means Yes, I’m rattled, but I won’t take it out on you. Too much.

“Thanks, darling.” And obeying Inej’s sharp elbow, he goes back to stirring the potato mash, and the slices of rookworst smoked sausage she’s dumped into another pan as well. “We decided Inej needs a proper homecooked meal, now she’s free, and we both haven’t eaten anything worth eating for ages, either.”

“You cook?”

“I grew up with my Da. It was either him or me. We traded off, if you want to know, and I’m pretty good apart from when it mysteriously turns into charcoal. And we didn’t find any Zemeni spices in the Lij market—this isn’t Ketterdam, and this old trader I talked to, she said it’s because maritime traffic to Novyi Zem is down to trickles at this point there’s a real dearth of spices, she couldn’t get them at any reasonable price—”

“Don’t burn the stamppot,” Inej orders.

“Anyway, we found a recipe tacked to the wall behind the oven, so that’s what I’m making now. Something super Kerch. Stamppot—you’ve ever eaten it?”

Kaz makes a sound that’s deeply indecipherable. Jesper can’t even tell whether it’s mournful or happy.

“Anyway, we’re almost done. Spinach now, please—Inej made me stick to the recipe, you know—and then the fried sausage and some salt and… you’ll stay with us for lunch, right, even if it isn’t royal Little Palace fare?”

“We ate unseasoned burnt rabbits in the forest,” Kaz replies curtly. He’s gotten over whatever strange emotion took hold of him, then.

“Yeowtch, they were awful. Why didn’t you remind me to take them off the fire. I know how to smuggle us into Novyi Zem,” Jesper says, carrying the deep pot over to their chosen clean bit of floor. Next to the windowsill, so Kaz can sit down with a little less discomfort—the house has been cleaned out apart from the marriage bed, really, and making Kaz go in there now… Making Inej go in there now, when it’s where last night he and Kaz had sex… And it’s not like they were loud, but who knows what Inej read into them pacing around each other for an hour. This is much less awkward. Besides, Jesper’s recently had some great experiences with floors.

Inej doesn’t stop playing with her knife, even after she balances her stamppot served on woodboard on her knees and digs in with her slightly bent spoon. She hasn’t set it down all morning, even carried it into town when they went looking for something to eat, and while she’s been supervising Jesper’s cooking—making sure he’s reading the recipe, keeping him on-track, bickering with him over unclear or illegible instructions—she’s been twirling it around her fingers. A truly remarkable feat, given that it’s the piece of shit knife that Jesper cobbled together from coat buttons, and he didn’t know what he was doing at all except that it should probably be sharp. Inej really needs to talk him through the finer points of balance if she wants him to overhaul the thing.

“They’re not letting in any more refugees from Kerch, you said,” Jesper starts setting up the explanation for his ingenious plan, while he passes over Kaz’ portion and another spoon he dug out from the bottom of a cabinet and small-scienced back into shape.

“The rich Kerch started running first, when the Darkling advanced. Anyone who’d ever had a Grisha indenture… They probably got in. They had the money. As for the rest… well, we’ve all heard of what happened in Fjerda, unless we’re Jesper and too busy drinking and playing Makker’s Wheel—”

“Hey! I was trying to pay off your indenture,” Jesper complains, while nibbling on his surprisingly decent if underspiced potato mash. “I’m Zemeni. They’ll let me in.”

Kaz still hasn’t touched his food. He hasn’t put it away either though, hand cradling the board instead of throwing it at Jesper. Maybe it’s because he’s too curious about the plan. Jesper should have waited, but he was too excited, and now Kaz is frowning as he replies, “So you keep saying. How does that help us? I assume you wouldn’t leave the two of us behind, after all that trouble you took.”

It feels good, to hear him say that. Almost good enough to forgive that Kaz doesn’t like his lunch. “That’s where my plan comes in. I’ve finally figured it out. If we’re married—”

“We can’t marry each other,” Kaz rasps. Before Jesper gets too sad about that, he continues, “In case you haven’t yet learned to count, we’re three people now.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve been thinking it over for so long. But divorce exists, you know so I was thinking that our story should be—and I’ll write to Da, but I thought you should probably agree first—I married one of you and then fell in love with the other but I still loved both, so I was trying to—”

Inej coughs. Laughs. Yeah, she’s definitely laughing at him, and then she says, “You’re going to tell your father about your marriage in a letter—your multiple marriages, because not only did you get married without inviting him, you already traded in your wife for a younger, prettier model. You lothario!”

“If you think that Kaz—actually, are you younger than Inej?”

Kaz, spoon in mouth, glares down at him.

“I’m trying to save our lives here. I’d appreciate some cooperation! And Da will forgive me, when he sees how happy I am with my new bonebreaking gangster wife and my old knife-twirling gangster wife who I had to divorce for petty bureaucratic reasons. Do you like it?”

Another spoonful of stamppot disappears into Kaz’ mouth. His eyes are closed while he chews, and then he looks away. His voice is hoarser than normal when he mumbles, “It tastes exactly the way I—it’s good.”

“Better than unseasoned rabbit charcoal. Anyway, it might throw the Darkling off our scent some more, if we disguise Kaz as a woman—and don’t be sexist. Women come in all shapes and sizes, no-one’s going to suspect a thing. Also we’re from Ketterdam. If any woman like Kaz can marry anywhere, it’s here. It’ll be a scandal, if they refuse to honour our marriage. Letting a few poors drown outside Zemeni borders, sure, but breaking the mutual recognition of administrative documents?”

Jesper is actually pretty proud of his reasoning here. That makes it even more annoying when Kaz rasps, “No-one will ever believe I’m your wife. I can’t even touch you.”

“No-one’s going to believe I love you? Are you sure?” Jesper flutters his eyes up at Kaz.

“He has a point, Jesper. You won’t be the first desperate refugee forging a marriage to leave.” Inej twirls her knife again. “You’ll need to act the part.”

“We’ll just tell them the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You don’t want to be touched, and if they have a follow-up question, they’d better direct it to the barrel of my gun. I’m not letting anybody non-consensually grope my beloved Kerch wife. Never again. Not over my dead body.”

“Won’t they think it’s weird if Kaz—sorry, your beautiful Kerch wife doesn’t let you touch him?”

“I don’t care. I told you. Let the world bow to us. I love my ingenious, vicious Kerch wife, completely independent of any physical contact we may or may not ever have. I respect my stubborn loyal deadpan Kerch wife far too much to cross those boundaries just for social custom. Also, my sweet murderous Kerch wife has a mean right hook.”

“Thankyou for the demonstration of your acting skills,” Kaz rasps drily, scratching his spoon on his serving board for the last flecks of stamppot. “We’re not going to Novyi Zem, though. There are more amplifiers than just the Stag he forced into me, and we’re going to find the rest. I’m going to tear apart every miserable molecule in the Darkling’s body, cell by fucking cell.”

“And you just let me keep talking?”

“It was entertaining.” Kaz licks his spoon, and then the board. Any second now, Jesper will tell him there’s more left in the pot. “Write your Da. We’ll keep your plan as a backup, in case everything goes horribly wrong. You’ll need a ring, though, to make it official,” and Kaz starts rooting through the kefta pockets.

Jesper can’t breathe. Is Kaz really…? He can’t breathe until he looks at Kaz’ stretched-out, gloved hand, and—

“How the fuck did you steal that one?! I was just wearing it!”

#jesper fahey #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x jesper #dimtraces makes things #shadow & bone #shadow and bone

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Down to the Wire

I jolted awake.

Someone shook my shoulder. Again. And again. Escalating. Going from gentle nudges to stronger pushes and pulls.

Stewie. Holy hell.

He looked like shit. Skinny as a twig, just looking at him made me worry his limbs might snap. A face so covered in dried blood that it distracted me from his expression. The blood had also caked and crusted on his puke-brown T-shirt, framing the long cut across his chest and the eight stab wounds in his sides.

"Good, you're awake. Holy shit, I thought you were dead for a second. You sure you can drive?" he asked. His voice shook with fright.

I was sitting behind the wheel of the white SUV that Spider had used to drive me to this abandoned marina. I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and regained my bearings. The memories flooded back.

I hadn't gotten far from the ruined shack. I remembered stumbling to the car in a delirium, craving a beer, or a hit of a joint, really whatever I could have gotten my hands on—but not the pills Stewie offered. Under normal circumstances, I would have never taken any drugs from a guy I just met. These were no normal circumstances, but I was still not going to take any pink mystery pills from a stranger.

I may be stupid. But not that stupid.

Shortly after Stewie passed out on the passenger seat, courtesy of popping his own product, my own exhaustion got the best of me. I had barely slept that night and killing Spider had really taken it out of me. I had only wanted to close my eyes for a few seconds.

Well, that had been in the morning.

Now, the sun was already setting. I had missed most of the day.

Just in time for the vampires to come out and play.

Stewie's eyes were also crusted with gunk from a short and restless slumber.

"How long was I out?" I asked him.

"Don't know. I just woke up and saw you all unconscious and got worried."

May have not been the brightest move to close my eyes, but then again, I could have just as well crashed the car if I had conked out behind the wheel of a moving vehicle on the highway.

I swiped the back of my hand under my nose. Flakes of dried blood chipped off, drifting away.

Good—at least the bleeding had stopped. Both of us had stopped bleeding.

Lucky.

In retrospect, it made more sense to me. Demon-Spider had probably planned to infect us with those parasite-worms, to turn us into obedient little soldiers. There was probably no value in killing us or maiming us beyond recognition.

Though I still couldn't fathom why he chose to turn me before the rest of the South Side Kings gang. Even to this day, I'm not sure why that was.

I reached to ignite the engine but pawed at thin air. Then slapped the side of the wheel.

The keys were missing.

I groaned.

"I'll be right back—"

"Wait—where are you going?" Stewie asked. The pitch in his tone rose with each word, tipping me off to panic growing inside his chest. Like a little puppy afraid of being abandoned.

Weird thing was, I had just met him. Had almost gotten him turned into a meat-puppet for demon-worm-parasites. And here he was, worried that I was going to abandon him. Another puzzle for future-me to solve.

"Keys, Stewie. Fuck, man. Should I even call you Stewie? That's such a shitty nickname."

He squinted.

"It's okay. I got used to it. Don't worry about it. It's okay."

My turn to squint. Then I got out of the car.

"We need the keys. Unless you wanna hike across the city and get picked off by cops?"

"Wait!"

I leaned in through the driver door window.

"What?"

"What if he's, like, got more of those worms in 'im? Why don't you just, like, short-circuit the ignition?"

Almost flattered that he thought that highly of my criminal skills, I still had to sigh.

"First off, I don't know how the hell to do that. And second of all, I've been living on borrowed time, and I might as well find out the hard way if that shithead has more brain-worms." I patted the door twice and added, "If I'm not back in five minutes, call the police."

"You're joking, right?"

I gritted my teeth and winced when I squeezed through the fence to approach the busted shack on the overgrown marina. Though the only injury from which I had bled this morning was inside my left nostril, I was hurting all over. My whole body had become a canvas for one giant bruise, a rainbow of pain, painted in spots of black and red and green and blue—the aftermath of Demon-Spider knocking me around inside the shack.

Between vampires and demons, the superpowered monsters we were going up against seemed to pose an impossible enemy. A fight we couldn't possibly win. I tried to push that thought deep down, and lock it into the basement of my mind, and throw the key away. But the knocking from behind that door made me freeze. No fight or flight response—just freeze.

Climbing through an empty window frame, splinters of wood, grit, and broken glass crunched underfoot wherever I stepped. With the setting sun's last rays, I could no longer make out the details of destruction that Demon-Spider had caused. Just broad outlines of wreckage. It looked like a battlefield inside the former marina's office, somehow even worse than I remembered leaving it before falling asleep.

Like someone had taken a giant meat cleaver and hacked the place to pieces. There were splatters of blood all over the place.

The demon-worm I had stomped on was still there. Seeing its lifeless husk helped stamp out my twisted imagination, a vision of it somehow surviving and slithering away to hijack someone else's body. Or to worm its way right back up into my nose.

Spider's corpse was next to the freezer, face-down in a pile of debris, resting in a huge pool of blood.

I stood still and scanned him up and down.

Sleeveless leather vest covering his back. Check.

Heavy pistol in his belt. Check.

Dark blue jeans now covered in blood stains from Stewie and himself. Check.

A plethora of lousy tattoos, probably from both before and during his time in prison. Check.

Most importantly: not moving. Not one bit. Not breathing, not twitching—nothing.

Super dead.

Check.

Something cracked behind me, and I gasped. My heart skipped a beat and I almost shat myself.

Just a broken wooden board, once placed to cover up a busted window, now dangling from a crooked nail. The chunk squeaked as it continued to lazily swing back and forth in the wind.

Demon-Spider's body still hadn't moved. I almost expected him to jump up and vomit out more brain-worms, or mutate into some kind of super-monster that could spit acid and melt my face, or who knows what. Really, I expected every bad thing, anything but the quietly dead reality in front of me.

He was dead. Really, really dead.

Cringing as I crouched down to search his pockets, I got lucky and did not need to pat him down thoroughly. He smelled like a toilet, and I immediately found the car key in his pants.

Again, almost shat myself as I thought the body twitched. But it was nothing. Nothing but whatever movements I had caused in prodding the corpse.

To make sure he was truly dead, I considered turning his wretched body over to look at his face—just one last time. But I really didn't need to see a man whose face was missing a lower jaw, and several upper teeth, and part of his tongue, and chunks of his neck. And that God-awful spider tattoo on his face.

For a split-second, I considered pissing on his corpse just to spite him one last time, but then I wondered how I could pull that off without peeing on my shoes and pants, and then my mind shifted to a more profound question I had not yet dared to explore before.

How much of his ghoulish behavior had been Spider?

How much had been him? And how much of it had been the demon-worm burrowed into his brain? Just how much of an asshole had he really been before his possession by a parasite?

Assuming the demons had put a worm in him in the joint, I had never known Spider prior to his possession.

Well, there was no way of finding out without asking the others.

Stumbling back out the window to leave this awful place and never return, I told myself that Spider had to have been a colossal piece of shit, even before some demon hijacked his body.

We knew next to nothing about the demons and how they worked, but I wasn't sure if any of the gang had noticed him being any different. Or maybe they thought that his time in prison had changed him. Or maybe he had always been that way. Plus, I wasn't even sure who all in the gang had really known him before he landed behind bars.

Ugh.

I remember now: I was tired of thinking of Spider that much. All I wanted to do was put this asshole behind me and forget about him as quickly as possible.

Only problem being, I was still convinced that I'd face the consequences of killing him if I returned to the Kings, and nobody would believe my story. It wasn't like I had been thick as thieves with Rocco or D. I had mourned Boombox like the rest of them, but I had only been a member for a few months. And there was no telling if anybody else resented me—like Spider had—for having joined without the "initiation ritual"—whatever that meant.

Ugh. There I went again, mind circling around a drain of dark thoughts.

Just flush it. Flush it all away. And flush it again before the flushing mechanism breaks.

Along the way back, junk still crunched underfoot, and I eventually sat back down in the driver's seat.

Stewie was still there, looking at me wide-eyed.

The longer he stared, the more it dawned on me that he was looking for signs of something unnatural. I stared back at him for the span of several breaths. Pondering if I should prank him.

But I decided against it.

"Yeah, no. Nothing. Ding-dong, the demonic asshole is still dead."

Shoving the keys into the ignition and firing up the engine, it was not lost on me how cynical I had become.

The tires screeched as I backed up and rolled us out onto the road. Stewie said nothing. I had promised the poor shmuck some shelter, but he would have to work for the Kings. He didn't like that idea at all—said he had always been better off getting by on his own. And he didn't really make good enough money to pay for protection. But my words persuaded him.

Not that I was good at persuasion. I just told him the alternative.

It was joining us or finding out what all the bloodsuckers and demons would do to him.

"Bloodsuckers?" he had asked. "Like, vampires?"

Oh, you sweet summer child. If only you knew.

My silence, my lack of explanations must have really convinced him.

I had also promised to explain everything, which I still didn't have the energy for right now.

I don't think he had the energy to argue, either. He had just seen a scary man turn scarier by growing eight shadowy spider legs which stabbed him and nearly leveled his crappy hideout. I had just given him a crash course in what I knew about real vampires and demons—which he probably did not believe, because I'm pretty sure he still thought these were aliens or something. And I was in no place to argue with him about that. For all we knew, they might as well have been aliens.

In short, Stewie was in shock. Autopilot mode. Just the passenger in the car while I took the wheel. Any protest out of his mouth was hollow.

The story I'm telling you now—see, I wasn't always this articulate about it. Had to sort it out myself. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, blah blah blah. You know the drill. Even now, I'm not sure how I can give someone a short version without them thinking that I belong in a padded cell. But if you've listened to me for this long, then you're either entertained, or you're entertaining the thought that I might not be full of shit. That I might be giving you the tools here to fight these monstrous motherfuckers.

I drove us back to the city, heading towards the factory. Cars drifted past us on the highway. The horizon turned bright pink and then transformed from deep purple into black.

There was no point in running from my date with destiny. I could have bounced town. Maybe I should have done that in the first place, long before joining the Kings. But I had nowhere else to go. Nobody who would help me.

My brothers, maybe, but they were on the other end of the country, busy with their harmless lives, and dragging them into this world of shit would only get them hurt. Or killed. Or worse.

I'm pretty sure that the indestructible vampire queen held a grudge with me because I kicked her out the window of a skyscraper. Which is unfair because I wasn't even the one who started the fucking feud.

And she survived. I feel like you shouldn't get to be angry over getting kicked out of the thirtieth story if it doesn't kill you and you can still explode all lights in a parking garage just by screaming loudly.

I killed the headlights and rolled into the wide and empty parking lots of the factory compound. Our safehouse.

I drove us towards the tiny source of light inside the truck loading bay.

Lights on, Kings at home.

When I killed the engine and got out, I waved for Stewie to follow. The reedy guy followed me like a puppy dog, and it had not yet occurred to me that I may have gotten him killed by bringing him here.

The smell of something boiling on the camping cooker hit my nose first. It was probably the same onion soup that Angel had made last night, but dammit, it never smelled so delicious, and I was happy I could smell anything at all. My injured nostril felt like it was all backed up and blocked. I snorted, trying to clear it, and found a tiny spatter of fresh blood on my fingers instead of being able to breathe through it again.

Many eyes went wide as they saw me waltz in there with Stewie in tow. Familiar eyes, the gazes of my brothers-in-arms, scanning me up and down, seeing the gore I was covered in, and then locking onto Stewie. Eyes that narrowed with mistrust. With fear.

And with anger.

Half a dozen handguns rose, clicking and clacking. Another half joined them seconds later. All barrels pointed at Stewie.

And me.

"I know this looks pretty bad," I said. The nervous laugh that followed was not calculated, merely an involuntary expression of my fear of death.

Funny how I never really stopped fearing death after all I had been through. Stewie cowered behind me and I couldn't really blame him.

Asked Baby Joker, "Where the fuck is Spider?"

After carefully considering my words, I said the dumbest thing instead.

"I killed him. Knifed him in the skull."

Baby Joker's brows arched, and he glared at me.

"The fuck you say?"

Rocco still used a crutch to walk and was one of the few people who wasn't pointing a gun at us. He raised his empty hand as if to calm everybody down and limped his way out of the semi-circle that had formed in front of me.

"Woah, woah, woah. Okay. Everybody, easy. I wanna hear this story," he said. "Looks like it's gonna be a good one."

His grin was lopsided, but the smile never reached his eyes. It wasn't just the tension. He didn't know what to do with this situation, either.

He didn't know what to do with me.

"Okay, so, Spider was possessed by a demon, which was this worm-like alien-like thing, and it came out of his nose. And he tried to put it in me. And this guy here," I said thrusting a thumb to point behind me. "So, I stuck a knife in his skull when he had his back turned."

Slate lowered his gun, but his body language was as tense as everybody else's.

"You get how that sounds hard to believe, yo?"

I wanted to retort with something glib and snarky and instead ended up shrugging and emitting a noncommittal whimper.

Jazz interrupted, "Is that fuckin' Brain Stew? You outta your mind, draggin' that bony-ass junkie motherfucker here?"

I cast a glance over my shoulder. Stewie had shrunken several inches, shoulders sagging, and head hunched down to truly hide behind me. The guns were pointed at us both after all, and he looked like a beaten dog. He also looked like a squirrel who was ready to run away as soon as anybody so much as sneezed.

"Yeah, well. I didn't really know what to do with him, and promised that he'd be safe with us, but he has to work—"

Angel interrupted me.

"You can't just be makin' decisions like that. Even if Spider was one o' the demons, it woulda been Roc's call as war chief." His face twisted and he tilted his head. "Does this make Roc the boss again?"

Carlos spoke up. Carlos, who rarely ever spoke up. Have I even mentioned him before?

"That's only if Spider's really dead. She coulda been turned by the vamps, or possessed by a demon, and just tellin' us whatever she want us to believe."

You might be thinking that everything was hunky-dory and that I'd talk my way out of this but talking was not my strong suit. My heart was racing, and I was still staring into a dozen pistol barrels, even after some of the guns had been lowered.

Rocco said, "Homegirl, you gotta give us more to go on. It really do sound funky. You drive off alone with the boss after he keeps gettin' up in your shit, you come back covered in blood and with some washed-out pissbaby like Brain Stew, also covered in blood. How do you even know this punk?"

"I, uh, I don't. He just happened to be there. Because Spider wanted to collect protection money from, uh, Stewie."

The hole I was digging for myself kept deepening.

"C'mon, guys."

Skeptical glances bounced back and forth between them. Except for Lisa. She was also one of the gang members not armed with a gun right now, and her gaze, fixed on me, was dull.

She asked, "Why would she lie? And Spider's blood sang to me. He needed to die."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Lisa was not helping. I appreciated that she was standing up for me right now, but her serial killer babble was not helping my case.

Rocco stared at me the whole time. Really reading me. Trying to gauge my reactions, I guess.

D spoke up—I hadn't even seen him arrive, or in the group before. He was just standing there on the edge of the semicircle now. Topless, his midriff covered in bandages above the waist.

"She ain't wrong. Was just a matter o' time till one of us killed Spider over nothin'. You all saw with your own eyes how Spider was being a piece o' shit, not just to Kelly. That motherfucker was bein' rotten to all the Kings."

That caused some stir. Murmurs rippled through the rest of the gang.

Rocco responded but kept staring at me.

"You ain't wrong either, D. Now we ain't gonna get anywhere like this, and I told you all that I didn't like whatever the fuck Spider was goin' on about, what he was on about with singlin' us out into groups o' two. That was some bullshit, ese, 'cause it's just askin' for people to get turned into Draculas or demons and come back here an' fuck shit up, and he wouldn't listen to me when I said so."

More murmurs. A general sentiment of agreement.

"I wanna believe you, Kelly," he said. "I really wanna believe you, but we gotta be one hundred percent. It's just as possible that you got jumped by monsters and they turned you and you come back here with Spider dead when he tried to stop 'em, or stop you. Gonna have to play it safe, homegirl. You un'erstand. You know what I'm talkin' about."

Right then and there, I decided to trust his judgment on this. But I didn't know what he was talking about. Not until later.

And by later, I mean that Rocco had defused the situation. Angel and Jazz grabbed Stewie and pulled him away. He didn't even dare to protest—now looking like a deer in the headlights. I immediately lost sight of him. All the remaining guns lowered, and he and Slate and D escorted me into a grimy boiler room.

Slate unfolded a folding metal chair, its legs scraping against concrete floors, and placed it down.

Rocco told me to sit my ass down on it, which I did without question. Before I knew what was going on, duct tape ripped from a roll, and Slate was tying me to the chair with dull silver bands.

D asked out loud what I was merely thinking.

"Is this really necessary? You could just lock the fuckin' room."

Rocco shook his head.

"Gotta play it safe, yo. Would do this to anybody else in the gang if it was the same sitch."

The real boss of the Kings hobbled his way over to me. He stopped, leaned against his crutch, and looked me dead in the eye.

"Gonna figure out somethin'. I said it and I'mma say it again. I really wanna believe you."

I believed that he did but had no idea how that would pan out.

The feeble smile he cracked said that he had no idea either. For the first and last time ever, he inspired zero confidence in me.

They left and turned the lights off. Only when the door slammed shut did I protest.

"Hey—guys—come on. Can't you leave the light on?"

Metal clanked as something locked into place.

"Don't you think the vampire shit or demon shit would come out in the dark?"

Muffled through the thick metal door, footsteps shuffled away, gaining distance at a steady pace.

"Oh, fuck me."

This spared me plenty of time to think. And by think, I meant having my mind spin in endless circles of whatcouldhavebeens and whatshouldhavebeens and I'msostupids, all going nowhere good, and traveling at light speed.

The loops of mental suckage were interrupted by my occasional outbursts of pleading for someone to let me out.

I also cried at some point.

Cried for a while until my eyes burned with tears.

It was so dark that I could only see the colorful spots that my brain put together, even when my eyes were open. Deep underneath the factory, with no lights, this was a pitch-black darkness that I was just not used to.

I was alone with the rushing of blood in my ears, my own labored breathing, and occasional outbursts of weeping that followed the trains of wretched thoughts.

Nobody ever came. I don't know how much time went by.

How were they going to figure out if I was possessed by a demon-worm? I hadn't even gotten a chance to tell them in detail of what I had witnessed. And if they were worried that I was a vampire, I could walk out into the sunlight.

Okay, I guess that wasn't a big concern. Maybe they were waiting till morning for exactly that, so they could eliminate one worry.

Didn't help my situation, though. The fucking demons could walk around in broad daylight and pose as regular people.

The duct tape kept me fastened to the uncomfortable little chair, just a little bit too tight. My butt cheeks began to ache, and I couldn't squirm around much to alleviate that.

My stomach growled.

I hadn't eaten all day, and I had no idea how far into the night I had been tied up down here. Fifteen minutes or five hours were both equally likely.

I sometimes heard something in the distance, but the sounds never neared. I had no way to know what was going on elsewhere in the safehouse. Which was a gigantic freakin' factory compound.

I must have dozed off, because I awoke with the sense that shuffling outside the door reached my sleeping mind even before I stirred to the sound of the door unlocking.

Click-CLANK. The hinges squealed.

Someone entered.

The light flickered on, turning so bright that it stung in my eyes.

It was D.

He stared at me for a few seconds, like he wanted to say something but changed his mind before it reached his mouth. Then he nodded, approached, and took a seat on a dormant metal tank nearby. Just sitting down made him groan, still sore from the stab wound in his belly healing up.

I asked, "How's it going up there?"

He shrugged, shook his head, and clicked his tongue.

"I don't think you—no. I think you are you. You're—you know what I mean."

"Yeah."

Awkward silence blanketed us both.

He had left the door to the boiler room open and the hallway beyond it stayed dark. Right when I wondered if he had navigated that underground tunnel blindly, he interrupted my thoughts.

"We got nothin'. No idea how to check if you're possessed or not. And no idea what to do, even if we did know for sure that you turned. Other than blowin' your head off, that is."

I emitted a ragged sigh, teetering on the brink between crying again and screaming out some deep-rooted, pent-up anger, like what I had felt bubbling up when I killed Spider.

"I'm sorry," he added.

That cranked down the heat and curbed the waterworks.

"It's okay."

"Nah. I mean—I'm sorry about keepin' you at arm's length since—"

"Don't worry about it. Just so you know, I only dropped Boombox because of my weak-ass baby arms. Not because Spider told me to."

"I know," he said.

Something resembling a lopsided grin flashed over his face and disappeared right away.

"I'm sorry I was angry at you. I shoulda been angry at Spider. I was—I was angry at Spider, but I was dumpin' it all on you."

It dawned on me that this visit wasn't to keep me company. Or not only that. It was something he had to work through. Whether D was aware of it or not.

He said, "You keep your head on a swivel this long, you gonna see enemies everywhere, even in your own brothers. Even in you."

D folded his hands and stared at the grimy floor.

The silence expanded, filling every corner of the boiler room.

Memories of better times had been plaguing me, things my brain was probably churning through to get my mind off the worst. For every image of seeing Boombox killed by a chainsaw in his own hands, I had to think back to hot summer days under the sun, of palm trees flanking the bright blue sky and the smell of unleaded gasoline that made me hungry.

Or more recent ones where I felt like I had found a new family, new friends. That helped me bridge the silence, summon up something to provide any sense of levity.

"I got the Star Wars reference," I said.

D looked up with his brows steeply arched.

"Huh?"

"The Sith thing. When you mentioned that the lightning stuff was a Sith thing, uh—"

He shook his head. Then D's eyes glinted with recognition. I smiled and made my admission.

"I only pretended to not get the reference because I didn't want to sound like a nerd."

D chuckled.

"Y'ain't a nerd if you know anythin' about Star Wars. That dumb sci-fi shit is world-famous."

"Thanks, but no need to sugarcoat it. I am a nerd. Like, I don't actually know that much about it, but I definitely didn't—I, uh—I grew up differently, I guess."

Averting his gaze, D's expression soured again.

This time, he picked up the slack.

"I ain't from down here. I grew up way up the coast, couple o' states up. Liked the heat way better down here."

I smiled, though I had nothing to say. He continued instead.

"I ain't been in the game as long as you might think, y'know."

It was nice to let him talk. He rarely shared anything about himself, and I wasn't sure if this was even about him trying to get anything off his chest, or him earnestly trying to keep me company and my mind off darker matters.

"Came here doin' honest work, like you." His emphasis on the word "honest" had crawled along with a bitter dose of sarcasm. "Jus' about anywhere to get away from my ol' home. And like I said, I like the heat better down here. Winters fuckin' sucked when you can't afford heating. You ever been up north?"

I shook my head and curled my lip.

"I have never seen snow outside of pictures and television."

"Y'know what's weird about you? You don't sound like you're from aroun' here."

He stared at me, expecting an answer. It took me a second to figure out what to say, despite how simple it was.

"It's—it's just how we spoke at home. Parents made a point of it. Said they wanted us to have better career chances, so we had to speak like white folks."

"And it landed you two whole-ass shitty dead-end jobs that barely paid the rent together," he said with a lopsided grin.

That did tickle a clipped giggle out of me. I decided against bringing up their deaths, as D was also refraining from any darker mentions of his deadbeat dad.

We had something good going on here. A little bit of commiserating, and a whole lot of sympathy.

He asked, "What about your brothers? You mentioned two brothers before."

"Yeah, uhm. They moved to the other coast. One of 'em wanted to get into movies? I don't think he made it. Or, big, y'know. Last I heard from him, he was doing something with computers and websites. Didn't really get what he was talking about."

With another lopsided grin from him, he said, "You don't gotta put up no act aroun' me. If you know about that nerd shit, you might as well admit it now."

I giggled again.

"Seriously, I don't—I-I really don't know. Haven't heard from them in over a year, and Mike used a lot of fancy words of computer stuff I didn't understand."

"Mike, huh? An' the other brother?"

"Younger one—well, also older than me—Liam, he, uh—last I heard he was costumed up as some superhero on the boulevard to pose for photos with tourists. Also dreamed of movies, like Mike, but he wanted to be in front of the camera. Again, don't think he made it big yet, either."

We both grinned at each other now.

The silence now spread between us was much more pleasant.

Warm.

Would have been much better if I hadn't been tied to a metal chair with duct tape, awaiting some twist of luck to grant me freedom.

Since I had been on a roll with stupid things to say all night, of course I had to fuck this one up, too.

This instance of dumbassery came from two places. One place was where I had been harboring a secret crush on D for, well, almost as long as I had known him. The other place was the really dumb one, a place of thinking that I could either net some sympathy or seduce my way out of this sticky situation, or something like that.

Like I said: stupid. I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking. I'm telling you this whole story from a distance; both a distance to you and a distance from when it happened. My memory of the events isn't perfect, and I may be smoothing the edges a bit. But if you needed any further evidence of how dumb I was, then this here was the final nail in the coffin.

"Look, just kiss me already?"

I bit my lip, immediately regretting what I had said.

His brows furrowed and he glared at me.

Once more, D had opened up and gotten more talkative around me than what was normal for him, and I had to go and foul it up like this.

He said nothing.

"I feel it, you feel it, and I'm pretty sure everybody knows about it. Even Angel."

I smiled for emphasis, but I don't think it reached my eyes, because it was all part of a growing tension and nervousness, squelching myself from babbling even more than I had babbled already.

He grimaced as he stood up from the empty tank. He rolled his head and his neck cracked.

D shook his head. It started as a little nod, then grew to greater force.

"Okay, now you convinced me somethin' is wrong. That don't sound like the Kelly I know."

His gaze locked onto me. Burned brightly.

Before I could say anything—which I'm sure would have just been a lot more nervous babble, and would have only served to keep digging myself ever deeper into the hole—he stormed out of the room.

Slammed the door shut.

No locking sounds. He didn't even turn off the light. At least there was that.

As I was left to stew in my own stupidity over what I had just done, time dilated once more. Could have been minutes or could have been hours. It didn't really make any difference to me—every second was unbearable. My butt hurt from being tied to this crappy chair for so long, I was starting to get first waves of pins and needles prickling in my limbs, and I got to play back that scene, over and over again, wallowing in it.

With the fluorescent tubes and their harsh light burning in my eyes, I began to wish for darkness again. Now I couldn't even sleep, either.

I cried some more but I had given up on pleading into the void.

My thoughts circled the drain until they drifted off into other realms, dredging up things from the farthest corners of my memory. Something I had mentioned before now came to me in full force.

A childhood memory.

Riding a bicycle through the neighborhood. The front wheel squeaked, an annoying sound that repeated every other second. Attached to the back wheel bars with clothespins, baseball cards I had stolen from my older brothers slapped against each spoke while the wheel spun on my merry ride through the outer city where we used to live, making it almost sound like a motorbike.

Old Mo waved at me from the roadside tables where he was sitting outside the deli and smoking a cigarette that looked more like a tower of ashes than cigarette, a weird expression on his roadmap of wrinkles for a face—good ol' Mo—and I waved back at him.

It took me a second to understand that his expression was not a cheerful one like mine. He was flagging me to stop and talk, which I did once I had realized it.

Rolling to a stop, he urged me to turn around and go back home.

There had been a shooting a couple of blocks down, the traffic turned crazy down there.

Later in life I'd learn the term: Drive-by shooting. That's what the Santosuosso family had done to teach somebody a lesson—something I'd only learn more about in high school. I hadn't even gotten into the double digits of age, so the knowledge of this violence and any details were all weirdly distant to me. Like stories from another world.

It had never sunken in until now. Twenty years later.

The past decades had seen more and more tourists flock to this city. Parading around in their dumb speedos, turning as bright red as tomatoes while they baked in sun on the long beaches, people on pilgrimages to some bullshit cartoon wonderland outside the city, and doubling the traffic on the streets which had attracted entire legions of douchebag tough guys in their souped-up cars. The number of gangs in the city doubled over the years, something I had somehow managed to ignore all my life—just until recently.

The passage of time had sanded down every bit of nostalgia I still had in me. Some smells still haunted me, shreds of better times. Like that smell of unleaded gasoline and hero sandwiches after jogging on the beach with dad. Because the deli with the sandwiches we used to go to was right next to the gas station.

The carnage was always around the corner. Just out of sight. Just three corners away, deterred by a kindly old man urging me to turn around so a little girl didn't have to see the shattered glass and the bullet casings and the shredded telephone booth and the blood stains on the sidewalk, where the cops didn't even bother with chalk outlines.

Just baseball cards flapping against the spokes, thwapping away.

My bike was stolen shortly after that.

Fuck. Maybe this city had never been good.

Maybe that was the thing about nostalgia—making you single out the good things in your memory against all the stuff you were shoving into the darkest recesses of your brain.

Brain.

The more that word percolated in my head, the more it grossed me out. Slippery, slimy—like sludge vampires and slime-demons?

Ugh.

I couldn't escape it any longer.

The endless circling of broken thoughts, of old memories clashing with new impressions, it all came to an abrupt halt.

Shuffling echoed through the corridor outside the boiler room. Someone else approached.

The door swung open, and Angel was standing outside the door. Stared down the dark corridor as if to check if he was being followed.

Then he entered, gently closing the door behind him.

My stomach cramped up upon seeing what he was carrying in one hand. A long, twisted metal wire that looked like an unraveled coat hanger, and a cheap blue plastic lighter that I had used before myself to light up a joint.

"I think I got a solution," he said as he approached me with a steady pace.

I hated where this started and wherever it was going. I bit my tongue rather than protest. Instinctively, I knew I had to be my smartest ever now, and my track record had not been—uh—it had not been great in that department, as you may have noticed.

Angel raised the wire and the lighter almost as if to show me the tools like they were sacred relics.

"So, Renaissance said the Egyptians used to get the demons out with a hook or somethin', right?"

Oh, this was bad. This was really bad. Still, I said nothing.

He flicked the lighter twice and then held the tiny flame to the end of the wire. Heating it up.

I had to warn him. I mean, let's be real here: I had to save my own ass.

"I-I don't think—I don't think this is gonna work the way you think it does."

"I mean, maybe just the heat alone'll do it. If there's, like, a, brain-worm kinda thing up in there? Hot metal's at least gonna make it uncomfortable, right? Barbecue it a bit, get the motherfucker to crawl right on outta there."

"This is really not anything that Renaissance said at all," I said. And my voice was trembling all the while now. Worst thing was, I think any expression of fear was not helping me.

What if he thought that I was only afraid because I had a brain-worm in me? Because the brain-worm was afraid of getting poked by a hot metal needle?

"Where the fuck do you think you're gonna stick that shit in?" I asked in my growing panic. I guess I got angrier when I panicked.

"Up the nose, o' course. I ain't stupid."

Oh, fucking hell, no. Fuckfuckfuckfuck—

He uttered a curse as he stopped heating the wire, having burnt his thumb by touching the metal part of the lighter after keeping the flame up for so long. Sucked on his thumb for a second.

Muffled by his own thumb, he said, "Almos' ready, hold on."

"Uh, how about we don't? Did you run this idea past anybody else?"

"Yeah, but they weren't listenin'. I'm pretty sure this is gonna work. Hot stuff is always used in medical treatments 'n shit."

"Dude, that's not how it fucking works!"

Having stopped sucking on his thumb, he snapped the lighter's flint again and continued heating the wire.

"Don't worry, yo, it's like cuttin' off cancer 'n shit. And the hot metal can't get you infected 'n shit. I thought this all through."

"Angel, don't do this, man. Stop—"

"Look, yo, I am tryin' to help. If we do this right, we know what's up. 'Cause the others ain't got shit right now. I'd rather you be up wit' us, rollin' again. Fuck Spider, homie."

"Yeah-yeah-yeah, fuck Spider. Now cut it out, okay? I'd rather sit in my own piss and tears right now than have a metal fucking wire stuck up my nose."

"Okay, just calm down, okay? I know what I'm doin'. I'mma be careful."

Angel stopped heating the wire, put the lighter in his pocket and winced as he burned himself again. Then he gripped my face to steady it, smooshing my cheeks between thumb and fingers. It was not working out for him—I started thrashing immediately.

"Stop! Kelly! Fuckin'—stop movin'!"

"No! You stop! Do not—do not fucking stick that up my nose!"

His eyes were filled with terror. A different kind than the one I felt—filled with uncertainty, and fear, and whatever else was bouncing around in his big empty skull. He trembled as he tried to keep my head still, staring at my bloodied nostril and slowly bringing the metal wire up close to it.

"I'mma make it quick, okay?"

I bit him. Hard. He yelped and let go.

"Fuckin'—I'm tryin' to help!"

"Stop helping!"

He fumbled with his pants, unbuckling his belt, and then slinging it out from the hoops of his jeans. With a couple of swings, he had it wrapped around the hand I had bitten, and then gripped my face again, having effectively guarded his hand from me being able to bite it again.

"Fucking—stop! You're gonna kill me!"

He trembled, and I started feeling the heat of the metal wire's tip as it neared my flaring nostril. The wire radiated against my skin.

Sweat coating Angel's forehead made it glisten in the harsh fluorescent light. He clearly wasn't sure about this himself.

"Dude, what the fuck? What the fuck do you think is gonna hamfth—"

The belt-wrapped hand pressed against my lips, muffling my words, but he hesitated from moving the wire any closer. He loosened his grip on my face.

"The fuck you think is gonna happen if you scrape around in my brain with a hot fucking metal wire? Think!"

He stopped staring at my nostril like an Olympian athlete staring down the track in preparation for a pole vault. His gaze met mine. I must have looked furious, or terrified. Probably both. I don't know.

Worst thing was, I knew nobody would hear me screaming down here.

Angel let go and reared back to the point where I only barely felt his heavy breaths against my skin. I was covered in a sheen of sweat, too.

"Fucking," I gasped. Swallowed any hurtful remarks about his intelligence. "Fucking hell, man! Thank you for not shoving a metal fucking wire up into my fucking brain! Hot or not don't matter! Dude!"

He took a full step away from me and rose to full height. His shoulders heaved. The intensity of the situation he had created now caught up to him.

"Okay! Okay. It's cool," he said, calming himself more than me. "I thought—"

"Yeah, no. Fuck, no. No. Keep that shit away from me. I'd rather have someone blow my head off with a sawed-off shotgun than get turned into a vegetable by some hot fucking wire stuck into my brain!"

I was furious. And I had every damned right to be.

It started to dawn on Angel where he had gone wrong. His face contorted five different ways until he turned his back on me and scurried off to the boiler room door.

"We're gonna think o' somethin'," he said. He sounded way meeker than the tough guy show these boys usually put on around me.

And out he was. Slammed the door shut before I could think of asking him to turn off the light.

I exhaled and slumped against my bondage. Wiggled my ankles just to keep the blood circulating. The sensations of pins and needles had intensified. As the adrenaline from my near-death experience subsided, every ounce of discomfort returned at once.

Now my cheeks hurt from Angel gripping them, though not as badly as my butt-cheeks hurt from sitting here for, well, however long I had been sitting there.

Instead of crying, I emitted a long, drawn-out groan.

Eternity-spanning minutes later, my mind was back on overdrive, blending memories and impressions, circling the darkest drain again. The heat of the metal wire kept interrupting that whirlwind of thoughts, the threat of that thing going up my nose and jamming its way up into my brain and—

Someone approached again. I tensed up, expecting it to be Angel with another half-baked plan, certain to do worse things than kill me.

But Rocco entered this time. Accompanied by D.

"Hey guys," I said, trying to sound as cheery as I could. My voice collapsed in on itself though, I was just a few hurtful words away from crying again. And somehow, that was what I expected to hear next.

To choke down the bubbling urge to cry, I swallowed repeatedly. I just didn't want to cry in front of them—I never wanted to cry in front of anybody, something that my brothers had "trained" out of me from a young age on when they bullied me for crying around them over the dumbest shit.

Jutting out his chin, Rocco nodded at me. It had not been any form of greeting, but a gesture for D to follow.

Hobbling halfway into the boiler room, Rocco stopped and caught his breath. It must have been exhausting to take all those stairs with a crutch. D walked the rest of the distance, and a click between his fingers triggered a switchblade to snap out.

The knots throughout my body tightened to a point of rivaling taut steel wire, and I had to just keep telling myself not to start crying. But my vision already started to blur around the corners, burning from previous bouts of crying that night, and making me inwardly curse how my body was still capable of pushing out any more tears even though my mouth was as dry as sandpaper—a taste of metal grit included.

But the knife didn't cut me. D started cutting the duct tape.

Rocco stared at me. Never blinked the whole time.

"That bitch-ass piece o' shit wasn't Spider. That was one of those fucked up demons posin' as our old boss—I believe you, Kelly. I thought he couldn't have changed that much, but it kinda fit. He had always been a bitter motherfucker after gettin' locked up."

D had cut my hands free first, allowing me to rub my wrists and clench my fingers into fists. The exposed skin where duct tape had tied me to the chair was now unpleasantly sticky.

Rocco continued, "We ain't got no business killin' each other over this shit. Times changed, so we need to be the thing that stays the same. We gotta be hard, we gotta stand our ground against these monster fucks."

Staring all the while, he briefly nodded, as if he was trying to convince himself. But the harsh gaze he kept trained on me said otherwise.

"You got the right idea homegirl. You killed that motherfucker once he showed his true colors. We gotta be smart, gotta play nice to get 'em up close. But that's all it is, just play. When they close, we murder these motherfuckers, no mercy shown."

D cut my other leg free, but I stayed sitting, despite the pain in my butt. I stretched my legs and took a deep breath.

With the lull in Roc's monologue, I spoke up.

"Thank you for trusting me."

Rocco shook his head.

"That's what I wanna tell you. I wanna tell you that I trust you. But the thing is, I can't actually trust you. Got no way o' checkin'. That's why these motherfuckers are so fuckin' insidious. But I'm gonna trust you. If you turn on me—on us—then I gotta respond in kind. Gotta watch my back 'round you. But, see, I'm thinkin' now, that ain't a bad thing. That's the thing these motherfuckers don't get. They got their superpowers an' shit, that's why they stop lookin' over they shoulders. They think they're invincible. But we—we're invisible to 'em 'cause they think they're invincible. That's true weakness."

When I got up, my knees buckled and D clutched my arm, bracing me as I wobbled.

Roc said, "I wanna believe you're the homegirl I think you are."

After another deep breath, the tingling of blood in my limbs almost hurt.

"You want to? You mean you don't—"

"I wanna believe you. And that's the end of it."

"What about the others?"

"They think the same, or they ain't thinkin' at all."

Wondering if anybody knew what Angel had almost done to me, I decided against bringing it up. The fucking idiot had meant well in the worst possible way.

The yawning door from the boiler room stared at me. Its darkness was cool and inviting. I was flush with heat, uncomfortable other than where I felt D's hand on me, his grip loosening once my posture lost its wobble. I cast a glance at him, but he avoided eye contact.

I asked Roc, "What changed?"

"Nothin', really. Jus' made up my mind. Maybe you a demon, maybe not. Maybe you be stabbin' me in the back in the wrong moment, or you gonna be loyal to me until either one of us eats fuckin' dirt."

Slowly, swallowing again, and now acutely feeling thirst and hunger catching up to me, I nodded.

He asked, "You remember my rule? The new rule I told you at Loki's place."

"Yeah," I muttered. I cleared my throat. He was waiting for me to say it, so I did. "No vampires, no demons, no monsters. No matter what comes crawling out of the woodworks next. We stay clean of that shit."

Rocco finally blinked and let his jaw drop. He raised his head and looked at me down his nose, scanning me up and down, and then meeting D's gaze before focusing on me again.

"That's fuckin' right. Better words than how I said it, too. So, listen up. Jus' so you know, we ain't gettin' buddy-buddy with this Renaissance motherfucker. These vampires keep throwin' us a bone, but we all know what the future looks like if we work with 'em to kill all the demons."

D grunted in agreement. No objection from me.

"Somethin' did change, but it ain't what brought me to my decision wit' you. Renaissance called again, started throwin' us another bone. Made me trust 'im even less."

Slipping gently from my arm, I felt the absence of D's hand there, where cool air grazed my skin. I forced myself to keep meeting Rocco's gaze dead on.

"That Dracula motherfucker is offerin' up to give us new gear. New arc cannons—y'know, the Star Wars guns—and some other shit we can use to kill vampires."

"What? Why the fuck are these vampires always giving us vampire-killing stuff?"

Rocco's lips curled into a crooked grin.

"I think they think we stupid. Like it's a trust move, like we oughtta trust 'em more just 'cause they trust us with the shit that can kill 'em easier. But o' course, it comes with a catch. Always the fuckin' catch o' loyalty. They try to buy it. Never earn it."

"Great," I said with a sigh. "So, what's the catch?"

"He wants us to make a hit on another gang. Wants us to hit the Wolves for 'im."

I shrugged and asked, "Who?"

D muttered, "Buncha biker fucks. Old drunk fuckin' geezers with bad attitudes."

"Yeah, whatever. Fuck 'em. That ain't the point. Renaissance wants us to hit 'em hard. Says he thinks they work for Bateson or the demons, ain't really clear which. But wastin' 'em will help figure it all out, help fuck 'em all over either way."

"So, uh, I take it we're not doin' that?"

"Fuck no. At least not yet. And not because that vamp motherfucker said so."

Click, clack, clack, the crutch tapped against concrete. Rocco closed in on me.

"I asked for somethin' else instead, kinda like a down payment before we get started. Asked 'im to tell me all he knew about Bateson and the syndicate. It ain't shit. The syndicate ain't barely in this city. It's all run by the New Blood and the gangs. She was actin' all high and mighty—but the bank buildin' she took us to was one of the New Blood's places. She took us there so we'd start hittin' their other cribs once they fucked us up. Probably why that puta went into hidin' after we fried 'er."

"That's it? What about the indestructible part? Like, is there nothing they got on her? Ren called her a witch. Can she do, like, real magic or some shit?"

"Fuck if I know," Rocco said.

He nodded to both of us and turned to lead us out of the boiler room.

"That motherfucker said we can look for ourselves. Go check out where they used to keep her locked up."

D switched off the lights behind me, and only tiny green lights at the end of the corridor cast any glow to guide the way.

From behind me, he said, "I still don't get how she can survive a fuckin' rocket launcher."

"RPG," Rocco corrected him. "And I'm startin' to think it's all bullshit. Like givin' us these high-tech weapons? I don't fuckin' know for what. We still always killin' these Draculas with low-tech shit. Hackin' off heads with machetes, stakes through hearts—don't matter if they solid or piles o' fuckin' sewage, either."

"Maybe it's just so we think they're way tougher than they are," I said.

Rocco chuckled in the dark as we shuffled down the corridor.

"Yeah, maybe you right. Maybe."

He stopped and I bumped into him. A combination of Rocco hunching with the crutch and me stretching to stand up straight made it feel like he was shorter than ever, his breath brushing over my collarbone.

"So, he said we can look for ourselves. And you, homegirl, are one o' the least injured right now. We been hidin' out here like fuckin' cockroaches jus' to heal up, but time is runnin' out. I also think that Renaissance motherfucker is tracin' my calls, probably knows exactly where we are sittin' right now. That's why I want you to pick two or three o' the boys who ain't as banged up as the rest, and you head out there to this place. See if you can figure out somethin' new the vamps ain't tellin' us."

Rocco continued walking.

"And you're gonna move shop again?"

D answered, "That's fuckin' right."

It occurred to me how layered this operation was. If I was still brain-wormed by a demon, then I wouldn't know the location of the new temporary crib while they moved it. If anybody came after us, whether it was demons or Bateson or any of the gangs working for any side, we'd be drawing attention—away from this safehouse and the move.

"You got it, boss," I said.

There was no way I could see it, but the absence of a reply made my mind form an image of him grinning triumphantly in the dark.

Rocco was back. The real boss of the Kings.

And I was no longer tied to a throne of shit, awaiting death or worse.

The vision of a heated metal wire flashed before my inner eye again. I banished it for sunny palm trees and idyllic street roads from better days—or from the illusion of better days.

"You're gonna go out by day this time," Rocco said. "We're changin' things up a little bit."

Clever—that would guarantee I'm no vampire and keep those fanged assholes off our backs at the same time.

"You got something planned to get rid of these pieces of shit? Permanently?"

"You fuckin' right I do. Still workin' on the details. Might also change wit' whatever you find out. And when I'm done, you're gonna have front row seats on seein' part o' this city burnin' down wit' all these disgustin' monster motherfuckers."

I didn't need to imagine it any longer. I couldn't see it in the dark, even though we had reached the stairs where the green lights on the power box glowed nearby, painting the sheen on our skin in an eerie glow.

Rocco was grinning.

This city had gone to hell, and Rocco wanted to be the one to control the burn.

To watch it turn all the shit to ashes while he danced on their graves.

And I was here for it.

—Submitted by Wratts

#spoospasu #spookyspaghettisundae #horror #short story #writing #my writing #literature #spooky #fiction #hyperrealism #splatterpunk #gutter fantasy #urban fantasy #action horror #nostalgia #helplessness #isolation #vampire #demon #street gang #South Side Kings #violence #Kelly Romero #D #Loco Rocco #Lisa Theresa #Boombox #Baby Joker #Slate #Angel

[graceslavenderhaze]

all our friends talk { connor stevens}

synopsis: the midnight society is tired of their friends obliviousness towards each other only to find out that they’re the oblivious ones. 

authors note: theres a julie and the phantoms easter egg in this

“You didn’t think i’d bring us back on a school night did you?” Luke said with a mischievous smile on his face. The rest of your friends buzzing with excitement about the opportunity of being able to enjoy the glow dance now that the shadow man was actually gone, not just hiding in your secret boyfriends body. Yeah it had been a weird week to say at least. 

“and i still don’t have a date this time.” Jai complained as you all began to walk to your respected houses. You groaned. Gabby elbowed you in the ribcage lightly. You put your arms up, signaling surrender. Connor stifled a laugh as he walked beside you, looking up you gave him a quick and a wink before turning back to your friends. You weren’t subtle. 

“Jai stop acting like you’re the only one who doesn’t have a date, the only two people who have dates are going together.” Gabby said as she continued to bicker with Jai. It was comforting to know that things were going back to as relatively normal as they could be for now. 

“Wait Connor isn’t taking y/n? Aren’t they-” Seth was cut off both Hanna covering his mouth. “That is a can of worms that i do not have the mental will to deal with today.” She said uncovering his mouth once she finished. “None of us have the mental will on a good day.” Gabby said, which in turn cause you to swat her arm. 

“Yeah Connor are you gonna take y/n?” Luke asked as he mimicked your voice in the last part of his sentence to tease you both. You rolled your eyes. “I don’t sound like that.” 

“You kinda do, babe.” Connor decided to join in. You turned around and gave him a fake annoyed look. “That’s what i sound like?” you said with a sinister smirk, turning back to the group.

 “You guys know Connor’s ticklish right?” Connor’s face drops. Luke laughs in disbelief. Gabby and Hanna already know your next move, meanwhile Seth and Jai are skeptic. The group continues to egg you on. You jokingly lunge forward.

“I take it back.” Connor spits out. You take several steps forward. You shake your head. “Nope too late.” You lunge forward for real this time. Landing on his back halfway, Connor subconsciously hoists you up to make sure you don’t fall. This gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends. Digging your fingers into his ribcage to tickle him. He starts spinning you both around. Your friends are all enjoying the show. 

“Mercy! Mercy! You win this round!” Connor says out of breath. With a satisfied smile on your face you hop off his back, Connor leans over to catch his breath. He huffs a few times before swallowing hard then standing up straight. 

“I hate you. Absolutely hate you.” He says deadpanned. You let another satisfied smile break across your face, which causes Connor to break his deadpan. 

“You know you love me Stevens.” You say giving him a wink.  His cheeks flushed and he shook his head.“ Are we going to this dance or what?” You asked at your friends who were staring at you both. 

“Oh well we were just waiting for that to be over.” Gabby said with a smirk on her face as she stood next to Hanna. “Yeah you know the purely platonic display of affection.” Causing your friends to laugh. 

“Hanna Banana, Gabby Bear if you want some you just have to ask.” You said with a sickly nice smile. Starting to rush towards both your friends. Who in turn ran away from you. Connor had a smile that followed you. 

“We’re just friends, its purely platonic,  close friends can cuddle and calling each other babe and other names.” Jai said dropping his voice to impersonate Connor. Luke laughed instantly taking part in the teasing of their love sick friend. 

“teasing aside, if you don’t swoop on that opportunity you’re missing out on the best person to date in this town for like, ever.” Luke said being honest with his best friend. Connor laughed. How they had no idea how ironic this was. “Yeah man, I know.” You turned around slightly when walking with Gabby and Hanna, once you noticed Connor was looking at you, you turned back around. 

“You guys have Chemistry. Just go out with each other already. Or at least be each others date to the glow dance bare minimum.” Gabby said as the two of you walked in solidarity to your houses. 

“Why are you so fascinated in the status of Connor and I’s relationship?” You asked shooting her a look over your shoulder as you reached your house. Gabby gasped. “So there is a relationship!” You smirked to yourself as you walked to your front door, beginning to go up the stairs to your bedroom to get ready for the glow dance. 

After you’d showered and finished to get ready a knock at your window. You turned around to see Connor smiling through the glass pane. You shook your head and got up, opening the window once you were there. He crawled through and stood before you once he got inside giving you a satisfied smile. You shook your head and laughed. 

“Well don’t you look dashing.” You said in a posh accent noticing your boyfriends alter appearance, it was different from his everyday dark and leather james dean type appearance. 

“Close your eyes, you can trust me.” Connor said in mischievous tone. You furrowed your brows. “Sus as hell but okay.” hearing the ruffling of his backpack and the zipper open, hoping you weren’t getting pranked. “Open.” his voice was in a softer toner this time. When your eyes opened he held a red rose before you. Your heart melted at the gesture.

“Cliche i know but-” You cut his sentence off with a kiss. Both of you smiled into the kiss and then broke apart. “I love it and you.” You said as you took the rose from him. The smiles on both your faces never breaking. “ love you too.” Connor said. Both of your phones started blowing up with notifications from the midnight society groupchat.

“Do we have to go? We could just stay here, together?” Connor suggested and for a minute you actually considered it despite both of you already being ready for the dance. The best thing about having a secret relationship was that it was to for yourselves but the worst thing was that it was to yourselves. You were lying to all your friends. 

“Or we could just tell them, i mean we’re not subtle and they’re annoyed that we’re not together. All our friends talk about it.” You said spilling the word vomit that had been sitting inside your brain for weeks. There wasn’t one of your friends who hadn’t spoken their mind about your “friendship” with Connor, hell even Seth had said something at this point. Connor still stays silent, you reach for one of his hands. “It was nice to have something to ourselves in the beginning, but i think we have to come clean now.” You said looking right in his eyes. God his gorgeous eyes. 

“Yeah you’re right.” He says, you laugh. His brows furrow. “I’m always right Stevens.” You sassed back. “Ouch, princess.” he feigned hurt then winked at you. You crossed your arms and then went across the room to grab your jacket. After putting it on, you did a twirl. Connor laughed, “You looked amazing, like always.”  You shot a smile back and then opened your bedroom door for you both to leave for the glow dance. 

The walk to the dance wasn’t long being as you didn’t live that far from the school. You had walked their in comfortable silence with Connor, That was another thing that you liked, usually silence was unbearable with most people, not with him thought. It was still light out being as the sun hadn’t yet set. You knew you had no reason to fear the dark anymore now that the shadowman was gone but like salt in the wound it would still linger for a long time.

“Is there a reason you didn’t tell me about the shadowman curse at first?” You asked your voice low as a woman walking her dog passes the two of you, shooting her a kind smile your attention goes back to Connor. His face goes slack jawed. “Did you think i wouldn’t believe you or not trust me?” You persisted on. 

“No!” He instantly strikes back, it takes you aback slightly. “It wasn’t either of those things.” He said almost insulted that you’d even think that let alone say them out loud. You stood there collecting your thoughts before you said anything. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me, you know i would’ve helped you. No matter what.” You said sternly as you stopped and stood in front of him. Connor looked down at you inhaling sharply and licking his lips.

“That’s exactly why i didn’t tell you. It was bad enough i was cursed the last thing that i needed was anything happening to you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you and it was all my fault. That would be worse than anything the stupid shadowman could do to me.” While his words were screaming at you his voice was gentle. Connor hadn’t banked on dating in high school and finding someone like you just completely shocked him straight to his core. 

“Next time, you tell me. We go through it together. I’ve never cared about anyone the way i care about you. No more secrets, Alright?” Your words were the opposite of Connors, your voice was gentle. But your words were like water, warm, flowing and surrounding. “No more secrets.” He said picking your hand up and kissing it. You wiped a few tears that had fallen from his face with your remaining hand. 

“Still wanna go to the glow dance?” You said to him, honestly ready to turn around and go back to your house despite you both being ready and halfway there. “As long as you hold my hand.” He said flirtly, you squeezed his hand and you both start walking back to the school as if nothing happened. 

Once you made it to the steps of the school your hands were still intertwined and saw Gabby getting out of the drivers side of her moms mini van. You tugged Connor closer to you, turning he gave you a concerned look. “can you keep holding my hand, please?” you asked him, your voice soft almost airy. He nodded and kissed the back of your hand. “I like the way your hand fits in mine.” He muttered for the two of you to hear before you both walked over to Gabby. 

“Hey! You both clean up nice Connor, wouldn’t you think so y/n?” She said nudging you, she had yet to notice your intertwined fingers. You snickered. “I think Connor is well aware of how attractive he is, without any additional input from me.” 

Walking inside the glow dance looked identical from the first time around. Hanna and Jai with at the entrance table handing flyers out about her petitions meanwhile Luke had yet to arrive. Gabby, Connor and You had all gone to put your jackets away. 

“So did you are guys here as dates?” Gabby said leaning against the table that Jai and Hanna had claimed earlier. You looked back at Connor giving him a small smirk then turned back to Gabby. Connor slung his arm around your shoulder. 

“Why wouldn’t i bring my secret boyfriend as my date?” You said to Gabby, instantly her face light up with excitement. “Wait really! I knew it, Luke owes me twenty dollars.” Connor’s face screwed up. 

“Wait you guys were betting on our relationship?” Connor asked. Gabby nodded causing you to laugh. “To be fair i’m in a running bet for that slow social awkward train wreck.” You said pointing over to Hanna and Luke who were giving long stares to each other. “You should probably go wingman.” You said to Connor, he nodded kissing your cheek before going over to rescue to doomed conversation. 

“C’mon let’s dance, this is your limited time of freedom before your morning of formula’s and multiple choice.” You said as you dragged Gabby and yourself onto the dance floor.  After a few songs the rest of your friends had joined you in the small area in the gym Gabby and you had been dancing in. Towards the end of the dance, Hanna and you went to the bathroom.

“If twenty four hours ago someone told me we’d all be back here, i’d probably laugh in their face.” You said to Hanna as you washed your hands. She turned around nodding, “Yeah if my best friend turned secret boyfriend was possessed by a shadow demon, i wouldn’t have handled it as well as you did.” She taunted. 

“How was that rescue mission in the hallway earlier?” You said sarcastically. She uncrossed her arms grabbing the wet paper towel she used to dry her hands and throwing it at you. You screeched and then stormed for door. As you both reentered the bathroom you realized that the vibe had gone from upbeat the slow, which meant the dreaded end of the dance where the last twenty minutes was slow dances. 

Jai was dancing with the girl he had been talking to at the table when you’d first arrived at the dance and Gabby was dancing with a girl who had long dark braids and was dressed in an eccentric outfit with two armfuls of bracelets. You’d seen her around school before you had french class with her.

“And then there were four.” Luke announced as you and Hanna rejoined Him and Connor. “Nope just you two.” You said grabbing Connors hand. “Have fun kids.” Winking at them before going slightly off towards where Jai and Gabby were dancing with their dates. Connor twirled you around before you wrapped your arms around the nape of his neck and he wrapped his on your waist. 

“I like this.” He said his voice was soft and didn’t travel farther than your ears with the two of you so close. A smile broke across your face. “I didn’t think this was your scene.” You teased him your grip on his neck readjusted as your moved slightly closer inching for more of him and the more you held on, the more he held on as if you’d float away. 

“Anywhere you are is my scene, always has been and it always will be.” He said. Your foreheads were resting against each other and everyone else was wrapped up in everything else to notice you two in your own world. You felt yourself blush. 

“I always knew we’d end up here, we never were just friends. I’ve loved you my whole life. ” You spoke in a whisper knowing that there was no reason to speak louder than needed, you wanted these words for Connor and him only. 

“You’re being all cute and sweet, it’s making me want to kiss you.” He said blissfully, with a smile across his face. “You don’t have to ask to kiss me, we’re dating it’s part of the package deal.” You said giggling slightly, smiling Connor leaned in to kiss you. Neither of you caring about formally telling your friends anymore. After you pulled apart you heard several gasps you knew belonged to your friends.

“I guess they’ve figured it out.” Connor said as he noticed Luke staring at you guys on his right. You noticed Jai staring on your left. “Only took about a few months.” You said as you went in for another kiss. 

#are you afraid of the dark #are you afraid of the dark imagine #connor stevens #connor stevens imagine #luke mccoy #gabby lewis #hanna romero #jai malyas #the midnight society #seth romero #ayaotd #grace writes

[ais-for-alex]

The Scars of Our Past: Chapter 18

Welp, here is this. I hope y’all like it this is low key one of my favorite chapters 😊 as always these characters belong to the lovely @lumosinlove

For the entirety of the following week Finn felt electric and buzzy with nervous excitement. He made sure to get Leo’s key cut and move all the miscellaneous things that had collected in his spare room into the hall closet. Other than that though, he had little to do to burn off the energy that coursed through him like a current so he threw himself enthusiastically into practice. The team thought he was simply excited for the away game they had coming up on Friday but in reality, Finn just couldn’t get the sound of Leo’s words out of his head.

‘Maybe I like listening to your voice’

It played on an endless loop in that sweet southern twang whispered low and hushed into his ear.

As excited as he was to have Leo live with him, Finn couldn’t help the nerves that set in only moments after he hung up the call that night. How was he supposed to live with Leo, see him every day, learn all the little bits and pieces that made up this beautiful man. How was he supposed to wake up every morning to find a sleepy Leo in his home, and come home every night and hear his soft voice welcoming him back? The more his brain obsessed over it the more anxiety settled in Finn’s stomach, making it roil with fluttering butterflies.

In all honesty, it wasn’t the thought of living with Leo that was making him anxious. No, that part was exciting, he wanted all those things, wanted to learn and live with Leo. The anxiety came from the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that Finn had been in this exact place before, with the other man that never strayed too far from his thoughts. Finn was terrified that he would be allowed to get so very close to Leo, he would let him into his life only to be turned away yet again. Just like he had been so many times before by Logan.

Finn was petrified by the thought that history would repeat itself, that he would be left in another one sided love. But Leo wasn’t Logan, and this thing between them was new and fragile rather than the years of feelings pushed aside or bottled up.

“What’s with the face?”

Finn nearly jumped out of his skin when Logan suddenly plopped down next to him in his stall. Finn was still half dressed in his hockey gear but it looked like Logan had finished changing into his street clothes.

He huffed a laugh when he realized who had startled him, “What face? This is just my face?” Finn asked.

Logan rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder, “No, that’s your ‘I’ve been thinking in circles for hours and I’m about to punch something out of frustration,’ face.”

“Ok well first, that’s an incredibly specific face. And Second, I don’t have that face,” Finn scoffed before standing up to finish changing.

“Come on Fish, you’ve been fidgety all week and now you have The Face. Finn, you’ve been my best friend for years, I know when you’re anxious,” Logan’s voice turned serious as he spoke, making Finn turn back to look at him.

With a sigh he sat heavily back down next to Logan. “Alright you win,” Finn resigned, even after all these years he never could hide things from Logan. “I’m letting Leo move in with me.”

Logan’s eyes went wide as he turned to look at him, “Really? Why?”

Finn pulled his lip between his teeth and bit down before responding, “I don’t know Lo. I just… you saw that motel he’s living at. I just hate to think of him there and when he was talking about finding a place to live he sounded so sad and I just kinda… offered it.”

Logan chuckled softly, the warm sound washing over Finn making his heart ache. He felt Logan reach a hand up to brush through the sweat damp hair at his temple then thread through the waves at the back of his neck.

“Mmm, you care about people so much,” Logan sighed, his voice was filled with a tender sound Finn didn’t know how to interpret. His fingers pressing into the tense muscles in his neck and all Finn wanted to press back into his hand. He wanted to feel Logan’s palms against his skin, wanted to feel his gentle touch.

It’s too much.

Logan’s words came crashing over him painfully, shredding holes in his heart with each unspoken word. He was too much, too intense, too obsessive.

“I need to go shower,” Finn stood up abruptly letting Logan’s hand fall away from him. And for this first time in all the years they had been circling, dancing around each other, it was Finn's turn to walk away.

***

The days leading up to Sunday seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye. The time was lost in long grueling practices, in stupid memes and texts sent between the three of them. Then suddenly before he realized Finn was behind the wheel of his jeep heading to Leo’s motel to pick him up and bring him home. Finn sighed and squirmed in his seat thoughts racing through his mind as he drove. His anxiety had been building throughout the entire week, not even the Lions win over the Snakes at their away game had calmed the feeling of wriggling worms in his stomach.

Finn pulled up to the curb outside the motel and shuddered at the sight, it was dirty and run down, it looked like one or two of the rooms had plywood covering holes that used to be windows but the glass had long since been shattered out of the frames. Jumping out of his car Finn climbed the rusty metal stairs that creaked and groaned under his weight and finally made it to the room number Leo had texted him. Finn breathed in a deep breath, it was now or never, he thought to himself then finally knocked on the door.

The door swung open almost instantly revealing Leo his grin brighter than the summer sun, his baby blue eyes soft and happy as they looked Finn up and down then settled to gaze into Finn's very soul through his eyes. His blond curls fluffed out from under the hem of a beanie to curl around his ears, and he looked so incredibly cozy in his pullover hoodie and jeans that hugged his hips in just the right way it almost made Finns mouth water.

“Morning sugar,” Leo said with a little wink that seemed to knock the breath out of Finn's lungs, he chuckled softly and stepped to the side letting him into the room.

“Morning,” Finn said once he caught his breath. Then somehow, just like that all of Finn’s anxieties melted away like the morning frost under Leo’s warm sunlight. Finn didn’t know why, maybe it was his voice, or his eyes but somehow Leo’s presence put him completely at ease, made him feel like not only was this the right decision but it would be the best decision he ever made. Finn couldn’t help but grin back at him as he walked into the cramped motel room. Leo had a couple bags packed and ready on the bed, a fairly small suitcase, a backpack, and the same skate bag Finn had seen him lug to and from the rink.

“Is this it?” he asked, slinging the skate bag over his shoulder and snagging the handle of the suitcase.

Leo chuckled and grabbed the strap of his backpack, “yeah, like I said, my mama’s gonna send the rest once I get settled somewhere more permanent. So yep, this is it for now,” he shrugged.

“Alright then, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Finn said, making Leo laugh as he led them out of the room and back down to his car on the street.

“So how was your game?” Leo asked once they had loaded his bags and settled into the car.

“Well, we won,” Finn said, glancing over at Leo with a grin, remembering the countless celebratory snapchats sent after the game.

“I knew that , you dork,” Leo rolled his eyes.

Finn laughed and felt a bit of heat creep up the back of his neck, “Honestly, the game was good, especially against the snakes. I mean as per usual Snape was all over Cap, the bastard kept trying to get dirty hits in. But damn, that goal Lo got past Riddle was a thing of beauty.” Finn heard Leo breath in sharply and glanced over at him, “you alright?”

“Yeah, fine,” Leo replied with a little shake of his head, “just sounds like an exciting game.”

“You should come to the next one!” Finn cried as he pulled into his apartment's parking garage.

Leo laughed softly, “I don’t know Fish, it depends. I need to focus on practice, my program isn’t quite where it needs to be before I start competing this season.”

The moment he put the car in park Finn turned in his seat and stuck out his lip in a pout, he let his eyes take on that wide doe eyed look that never failed to make people give in to him.

Leo looked like he was trying to hold his resolve but Finn saw the exact moment it melted away, in the way he sighed and sagged against the seat.

“Alright, alright! You win,” Leo said exasperatedly reaching out to push Finn's face away a bit, “I’ll come. Now stop it with the Bambi eyes.”

“Ah ha! Success!” Finn shouted before hopping out of his car and grabbing Leo’s bag from the back. “And for what it’s worth, I think you skate beautifully Le.” Finn felt his chest fill with warmth as he watched a pretty pink flush dust across Leo’s cheeks at his words.

Making their way towards Finn's apartment they continued talking about the Snakes game, or rather Leo asked a question that led to Finn recounting the entire game for him. When they finally reached his door, Finn snapped his mouth shut realizing how much he was talking.

“Sorry!” he said shaking his head, “Didn’t mean to just word vomit this entire time.”

“S’ok,” Leo chuckled softly, “your excitement is kinda adorable if I’m being honest here.”

For just a moment Finn’s brain blue screened at those words, “Um… well… I,” he stuttered turning to unlock the door and hide the blush that was turning his face the same shade of red as his hair. “Welcome home,” he finally said, stepping into the apartment and letting Leo follow him inside.

Finn watched as Leo wandered in, looking around curiously. He huffed a laugh realizing it reminded him of watching a kitten exploring a new environment, all wide-eyed curiosity as he poked about.

“Alright this is just sad,” Finn heard Leo callout from the kitchen. When he got there Leo had a cabinet open his face was pained as he took in the contents, “Please, for the love of God tell me why the only ‘food’ items in this kitchen is a vat of protein powder, and a box of Wheat Thins.”

Finn laughed at the disgust written on Leo’s face, “Sorry, I’m not much of a cook. I usually just do take out or steal snacks from the players’ lounge at the rink.”

Leo just sighed and slumped against the counter in defeat, “Alright I’m going shopping tomorrow, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you live like this.”

“So what? You’re gonna cook for me?” Finn asked a bit skeptically.

“Yes, yes I am,” Leo fixed him with a look that seemed to say fight me. “Any food allergies I should know about?”

Finn laughed but accepted his fate, “walnuts, other than that I’m more or less a garbage disposal and will eat pretty much anything.”

“Walnuts, got it,” Leo said making his way across the kitchen and bumping Finn with his hip, “I’m gonna go unpack.”

“Alright,” Finn said a bit breathless from Leo’s close proximity, “let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Leo whispered, his lips pulling into that wide dimpled grin of his, his baby blue eyes seemed to trail over Finn for just a moment before he was making his way down the hall towards his room. Finn breathed in shakily, the air felt charged in Leo’s absence like he was lightning that hit ground one moment then was gone the next leaving behind scorched earth and pure energy. It felt intoxicating and Finn breathed it in like he could taste it in the air.

Well now what? He asked himself meandering out of the kitchen and flopping down on his couch. He snagged the book left sitting on the coffee table and pulled out the plastic knife he had used as a bookmark the last time he opened it. He fell into the familiar words and the familiar world of a story he had read countless times before and would read countless times again. Finn let the thoughts inside his skull dissipate like fog burning off on a summer morning until the inky words reconfigured themselves into pictures, into movies, into snapshots of a different reality with different people.

“Knock knock.”

Finn nearly jumped off the couch at the sound of Leo’s voice. Taking a deep breath to calm his heart rate he glanced up to see Leo sniggering at the entrance to the hallway.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said through his laughter.

“Nah, it's fine I startle easily,” Finn said finally relaxing back against the cushions, glancing around he realized the apartment had grown a bit dark while he was lost in his world of words, the light outside the windows had faded leaving behind the velvet blanket of night.

Leo laughed again before wandering closer, “believe me I get that. I swear I jump at the stupidest things. Do you mind? There’s more room out here,” Leo held up a thin yoga mat and nodded over at the open area next to the couch.

“Sure, feel free,” Finn replied. “So, you all settled in?” he asked as Leo laid out the mat.

“Yeah, for now,” Leo sighed, beginning to stretch. “Talked to my mama earlier, let her know she could send some of my things when she gets a chance.”

Finn hummed in acknowledgement; his book lay long forgotten in his lap as his eyes were unable to look anywhere but the man currently stretching in his living room.

Leo breathed long, deep, and even breaths as his body pulled and flexed with the motions. He twisted into impossible positions that displayed so much flexibility and strength, Finn didn’t want to even blink and miss a moment. Leo had changed out of his jeans and was instead wearing a pair of tight spandex shorts that left very little to the imagination, somehow, they made his long legs look almost endless. Finn nearly choked when he pulled one leg into the air in a perfect vertical split. He stretched methodically, carefully working the tension and tightness out of his muscles and joints until his body was warm and loose. It seemed that Leo was completely oblivious that he was being watched, or maybe he was just ignoring it, either way Finn drank in the sight gratefully.

When Leo pulled out of his final stretch and began rolling his mat back up Finn quickly glanced away from him, after all it was probably weird to just sit there and watch your roommate stretch. He quickly snagged his abandoned book and opened it to a page at random to pretend like he wasn’t watching. He heard a soft chuckle as Leo sat at the opposite end of the couch, his legs all curled up into himself.

“You know,” Leo began his voice soft, “books are usually easier to read when they’re right way up.”

Finn felt a flush rise in his face as he realized his book was in fact upside-down, “What? You mean you haven’t heard? This is how all the cool kids are doing it nowadays,” he joked in hopes of salvaging his pride.

Leo laughed, “Well if that’s what the ‘Cool kids’ are doing I’ll have to try that.”

A soft smile took over Finn's face as he closed and set the book aside, he glanced over at Leo and felt his heart melt at the sight. He had the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head and his bare legs curled up into his chest and arms wrapped around them. His head was tilted to rest against the back of the couch and his eyes were closed but the contentment on his face made Finn feel warm inside.

“Thank you for letting me be here, Fish,” Leo’s voice was soft, full of a tenderness that washed over Finn in a warm wave.

“’Course,” Finn mirroring Leo’s low tone, he swallowed hard to keep the feelings inside him from bursting free. “Hey,” he said letting his voice settle back to its normal volume, “com’ere.”

Leo blinked his eyes open to send a mildly confused look his way.

“Come on, there is no possible way those gazelle legs of yours are comfortable like that,” Finn gestured to his balled up position at the end of the couch, “you can stretch them out if you want.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, of course,” Finn laughed.

Leo hesitantly stretched his legs out until his feet were just shy of touching Finn's thigh, it left his knees still bent a bit. Finn rolled his eyes and gently wrapped his hand around Leo’s ankle and maneuvered his leg until it was extended fully letting his foot rest in his lap. Leo sighed now much more comfortable; Finn grinned watching him nuzzle a bit further into the couch. He was just about to release Leo’s ankle when Finn realized there were large cuts and blisters littered across the man’s feet, they looked so very sore and painful he hissed slightly in sympathy.

“They’re not that bad,” Leo whispered, Finn flicked his eyes over to look at him but Leo still had his eyes closed and face pressed into the couch cushion.

“Le,” Finn breathed his name so softly, “yes they are. Sweetheart your feet are torn to shreds.”

“Mmm,” Leo hummed, “it’s just been long hours of practice since I got here.”

Finn nodded in understanding, he knew what it was like when you were starting out in a new place, he knew what it felt like to think you have to work yourself to the bone just to be on an even playing field with the others around you.

“You’re working so hard,” he said trailing his fingers around Leo’s ankle, marveling at the goosebumps that rose up in their wake.

“Yeah, ‘m tryin,” Leo’s voice was breathless as he shivered under Finn's gentle touch.

“Stay here,” he whispered, squeezing his hand gently around Leo’s ankle before sliding out from under his legs. Leo just blinked up at him his eyes had taken on a sleepiness that made Finn want to wrap him up in a blanket and hold him close until he fell asleep. It took barely a minute for Finn to slip into his bathroom and snag the little box of bandages he kept in his medicine cabinet. He settled back on the couch and lightly tapped Leo’s shin with the box before pulling his feet back into his lap.

“What are you doing?” Leo asked with a little surprised huff when he saw the bandages Finn was pulling out of the box.

“I’m fixing your feet,” he said evenly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Fish, you don’t have to do that,” Leo said, beginning to pull his legs back, but Finn wrapped his hand around his ankle again and held him still.

“They have to hurt, don’t they?” Finn asked, “please, just relax let me make it a little bit better.”

Leo let out a soft laugh, “Yeah, they do,” he looked up and met Finn's eyes and smiled, “alright.”

Finn very carefully bandaged each tender cut and broken blister on Leo’s feet. Soft little sighs fell from Leo’s lips as his hands brushed against sore spots, Finn pressed his thumb into his arch massaging gently making Leo positively purr. The sound that bubbled up from his chest was just shy of a pleasured moan, Finn couldn’t help but grin at how sensitive the man was to his touch, as he shivered under even the lightest brush of Finn's fingertips.

“Alright,” Finn said with a last squeeze of his hands, “that feel better?”

Leo looked up at him with that happy sleepy look and nodded, “yeah, it really does.”

“These are waterproof,” Finn said tapping him with the box of bandages again, “and they generally stay on pretty well, you should be fine wearing them in your skates. I usually keep a box in the bathroom if you need any more.”

“Thanks,” Leo’s voice was soft and breathless but full of genuine gratitude.

“No problem, I’m gonna go put these away really quick,” he said, making his way back into the bathroom to stash the box away again and wash his hands. When Finn sat down again Leo easily let his legs extend back to rest in his lap as they both relaxed into the couch. Finn snagged his book again and let one of his hands come to rest on Leo’s calf, his fingers stroking the soft skin absentmindedly. Glancing over to the other end of the couch Finn felt warm affection rush through his veins at the sight of Leo snuggled into the cushions dozed off in a light sleep.

Man, Finn thought to himself very much aware of the effect Leo was having on him, he’s been here less than twenty-four hours and I already feel like this. I’m fucked.

Read on AO3

Chapter 17

#sweater weather #coast to coast #leo knut #logan tremblay #o'knutzy #lumosinlove #finn o’hara #writing #figure skating #the scars of our past

[justimagaine]

Chris Evans

When it seemed like the world was slowly falling apart it was good to have a friend by your side. The only real friend you had was Scott. You two had known each other for only a year but that was all it took for you to become best friends. Scott knew everything about you and he knew how hard it would be on you if you had to be on lock-down alone. Scott knew you’d lose your mind and then it would be really hard for you to get back on track after it all ended. So he offered you to stay with him, but the thing was, Scott wasn’t staying at his place. For the time being he had moved in with his brother Chris. Knowing this you told Scott you didn’t want to inconvenience his brother. But after some convincing and hearing Chris himself tell you over the phone that he was perfectly fine with it, you said yes. Still being a little worried about being around Chis and how it would go you pack up some of your stuff and moved in with the Evans brothers. Deep down hoping it wouldn’t be for too long. 

First few days you did your best to stay out of Chris way.  He was a privet guy and you were a stranger to him, so you mostly stayed in the same rooms and didn’t walk around too much. You’d ether be in the room he had given you for the time you were there, or you were in the living room watching movies or cooking in the kitchen, but always with Scott by your side. You had made sure to never be alone in a room with just Chris. Fearing you’d make him uncomfortable in his own home. You also didn’t talk to him that much, just when it was necessary. The small talks you did end up having with Chris were great you even made him laugh and not just a chuckle, but an actual belly laugh. Even with that you gave him privacy as much as you possibly could. 

Scoot wasn’t a fool, he knew you and knew that you were acting weird when ever Chris was around. Sometimes your true personality slipped out, that usually happened when you all were ether watching movies or playing games. You’d get so relaxed and comfortable you’d start making the same jokes as you would if it was just you and Scott. Chris seemed to enjoy you humor and would join in, but soon the realization of where you were and who you were around kicked in and you went back to the shy you. A lot of times you hated that you were like that, you hated being the other you. The weird, shy you wasn’t who you were at least not anymore. Scott had helped you become more comfortable with being yourself and not caring what other people thought. But when it came to Chris you were afraid, afraid he might think you were too weird, too talkative, too any bad thing he could possibly think about you. 

As days went on you started to let go of your shyness and open up a bit, but still you made sure not to stay in a room alone with Chris for too long. Especially in mornings were your brain wasn’t fully awake yet. Just like this morning. You had woken up before everyone else and stood in the kitchen with your coffee, just breathing in the smell, trying to wake up as fast as possible. Few moments later you heard movement around the house. You closed your eyes and prayed it was Scott, but when a door opened and you heard Dodgers nails scratch against the floor you knew it was Chris. “shit” you said under your breath. You opened your eyes right was Chris walked in 

“Morning” he said with a smile. Another thing about living in his house was that no matter what time of the day it was or what he was doing Chris always looked good, really good. Adding the raspy morning voice it just made a girls knees go weak. 

“Morning” you pushed the words out of your throat. Dodger came up to you saying his good mornings and walked back to Chris who was now walking to the door that lead to the back yard. You took this opportunity and quickly got out of the kitchen and went to your room. Chris let out his dog and turned around, expecting to see you there and ask you how’d you sleep, but as always you were already gone. He let out a long sigh and went to make his own morning coffee. Small part of you wished you had stayed, but you weren’t too confident in your ability to speak to him this early in the morning. Before you could reach the room, Scotts door opened

“Good morning (Y/N)” he said brightly making you role your eyes. As always the happy, smiling Scott no matter the hour. He looked at your steaming cup of coffee and snickered “let me guess. You were in the kitchen enjoying your coffee when Chris walked in? So you made a run for it?” you wanted to deny it and tell him he didn’t know everything about you, but that would just be a waist of time. So you just nodded. 

“I’m a wuss” the truest words you had spoken in weeks. Scott turned you around by your shoulders and led you back down the hall 

“Yes, yes you are” he led you back into the kitchen where Chris was now enjoying his morning beverage . The brother greeted each other, you just stood there awkwardly. Chris gave you a quick look while drinking his coffee, what you didn’t see him smiling behind his coffee cup. What you also didn’t know what all he was thinking about was how cute you looked that morning.

“I’m gonna go keep Dodger company” not waiting for an answer you walked to the back yard, 

“That’s a good idea” Chris said and walked after you “it’s a beautiful morning, we should enjoy it” you went out and sat in one of the patio chairs and Chris sat in the one right next to you. All you did was look at Dodger who was running around catching butterflies, but when he noticed Chris was there he ran to him. You couldn’t help but smile at the relationship those two had. It was so pure. Dodger trusted Chris and loved him a lot, you could see it in his eyes. Son Scott joined the three of you and you all sat there in silence for a bit, enjoying the sun. 

“hmm, forgot to tell you. I’m gonna go visit Jeremy today, so I might not be back today” Scott said looking between you and Chris. This would be the first time you and Chris would be alone in the house, with Dodger of course but no Scott, the buffer. The safety zone and that scared you. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea with everything that’s going on?” you asked giving Scott a look pf please-don’t-leave. 

“Yes, both Jeremy and I have been staying in. No outside connections. And I’ll be going from here to the car to his house and the same way back. No stops, nothing. So don’t worry. I’ll be fine” Scott said with a smile “that is what you were worried about, my health right?” he was pushing your buttons and deep down you felt as if he was leaving just to force you to stop being weird around his brother. With a glare you replayed

“Yes, I’m worried about you and your health. Nothing else” Scott couldn’t stop smiling, he knew what this information was doing to you and he really enjoyed it. 

“He’s gonna be fine (Y/N)” Chris said placing a hand on your knee and that woke up the butterflies in your stomach. There were other things being said around you, but you didn’t hear a thing. All you thought about was your knee, that was now worm from his touch and also that you and Chris were going to be alone in the house.

It was silly, it really was. But when Scott left you pretty much locked yourself in your room. All you did was watch videos on your phone, read and sleep. You didn’t even go out to eat lunch or dinner, mostly because you had sneaked snacks in your room. It was stupid to hide in your room. Some moments you thought about walking out and seeing what he was doing, but got scared. You were afraid to say something stupid and silly, and make him not like you or even hate you. You just didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself, so your best choice was to stay in those four walls and hope the day goes by fast and Scott is back. 

Chris noticed that you hadn’t left your room since his brother left and he couldn’t help but feel a little upset and a bit hurt. He did think to go check on you and see if you were okay. Chris would go to your door and hear you watching videos, sometimes laugh, to him it was clear you didn’t want to be around him. So he spent his time working and going for a run, just trying to make himself not think about you being in your room and not talking to him. Chris just wanted to get to know you, but also didn’t want to step over some boundaries you had placed. He wasn’t dumb, he saw how you were when he was around and how different you were when it was just you and Scott. He’d sometimes hear your laugh from his room and couldn’t help but smile. Chris would quality walk out of his room, stand in the hall way and watch you. The way you’d laugh, make jokes. He had to keep himself from laughing out loud when you’d make a joke or a face at something Scott had said. Every time he wished you’d be the same way with him. Sometimes he found himself lucky and he’d be the recipient of your jokes, smiles and laughs. He’d  be happy to be able to talk to you and joke around, but something would happen and you’d go back, you’d crawl back into your little shell. Chris just hoped that before the quarantine was over he’d get at least one day of your full attention, laughs all the great stuff Scott would get. 

For you the day went by extremely slow even with all those naps. Soon darkness took ever the city bringing you some relief, knowing the day was over and soon Scott would be back. Looking at the time you also knew Chris was probably in bed ether already asleep or watching a movie. Ether way you could go out of your room. As quietly as possible, took a couple of seconds to listen to the surroundings, making sure the house was quite and it was. Usually other people at this time would be asleep or at least on their way to bed, but since you spent your day in bed you were wide awake. You managed to make yourself a big cup of tea without making too much noise, the only some what loud noise you couldn’t control was the kettle but that wasn’t too loud but you did take a few seconds to make sure you didn’t hear Chris coming or Dodger barking. When it was still quit in the house you quickly went out side and sat down at the bench by the fence. The further from the house the more noise you could make, but you weren’t doing anything that could make noise. You just sat there, with your tea in hands and looking at the stars. In the recent days you were able to really see the stars, so you liked to sit our side and look at them, hoping one day you’d see a falling star or something else interesting.

While you sat outside enjoying the weather, Chris laid awake in his room thinking if he should go outside and see you. Even though you had done a great job at not making that much noise Chris still heard you. Mostly because he wasn’t asleep, he couldn’t fall asleep. It didn’t take him long to push the covers of and jump out of his bed and walk out. He thought that this could be his only chance to talk to you, alone. At first he looked for you in the kitchen where he last heard you, not seeing you there he looked in the living room, thinking maybe you were watching tv but there was no sign of you. Chris thought that you probably went back to your room and he had missed his chance, as he was turning around to go back to his room, he saw the back yard door was slightly opened. For a fact, Chris knew he closed the door, so that only meant you were there, but yet again when he walked out he didn’t see you. For a brief moment he panicked, thinking you might have left all together, walked out into the dark night. As panic was starting to set in, from the corner of his eyes, he saw a figure sitting, your figure with a steaming cup in your hand. Relived he slowly made his way towards you. 

You on the other hand were too busy looking at the stars you didn’t notice him closing in. Until he was close enough to cast a shadow, seeing the dark figure you freaked out and jumped a bit, spilling some tea right as you realized it was just Chris

“Shit” you said out loud “you scared the living daylights out of me” Chris let out a small chuckle

“Sorry,” he said as he sat down next to you “can’t sleep?” he asked leaning back in the bench and looking up at the stars just as you were doing before he scared you. 

“Yeah, thought some fresh air and tea would help” you answered without stuttering, making yourself happy for not making a fool out of yourself, yet. 

“Yeah, I guess staying in your room all day to avoid me does have some side effects” his sentence made you stop breathing for a moment, you looked at him and Chris was already looking at you with a small smirk, you wanted to tell him it wasn’t true or that you didn’t feel well, but Chris spoke before you could “and before you say that’s not true and come up with a lie, I know it’s true. I’m not dumb or blind. I see the difference between how you are with me and Scott” as he talked his smile went way and you could feel the hurt in his words. Right then you’d take anything even being a fool in front of him over being the one who hurt his feelings. So many excuses and lies went through your mind, but there was no point, Chris didn’t deserve to be lied to. 

“I’m sorry” it was time to stop being a wuss and face he truth. Chris nodded at your apologize as if he was accepting it “I really am. I’ve just been afraid to be an inconvenience to you” Chris opened his mouth to probably tell you he already said that that wasn’t true and that he didn’t mind you being there, but didn’t let him speak “or to make a big fool of myself. You know say something stupid or do something stupid. Exhibit A I spilled tea on myself.” you said pointing at wet spot on your hoodie and laughed a bit at yourself. Chris chuckled 

“Technically that was my fault, I spooked you. I probably should have come up to you like a creepy man” you looked at him and smiled, it had been a long time since you had looked at him for that long. “and it’s impossible for you to make a fool of yourself or be an  inconvenience. I like it when you joke around. I like it when you are you. I haven’t had the actually honor to be around that much when you’re being yourself, but I’ve seen it from afar, when I’m looking at you from the hallway” Chris took a pause in his sentence jut looking at you “I know realize I’m a very creepy man. I should stop being creepy, that’s probably why you don’t want to be around me. I don’t blame you” you both laughed at his words. sitting there with him and laughing felt so right and you actually had missed him. Even if it had been just a day, you missed this man.

“No, I don’t think you’re creepy. I’m just unsure about myself and the personality I have” finally you were honest with Chris and he liked it. He liked that you were opening up to him, he especially loved that you were actually looking in his eyes. 

“Don’t be” Chris turned himself so he was facing you more “I love your  personality. You say what’s on your mind, you make jokes, sometimes silly jokes, but I like’em, you’re real. “ luckily it was dark out, because if it wasn’t Chris would be able to see your red cheeks. 

“Thank you” for few seconds you two just looked at each other, smiled and enjoying just being there. “I’ll stop being weird and hiding in my room, i promise” Chris was happy to hear you say that. It really brought joy to his heart, just imagining how it was going to be from now on.

“Great, “ Chris said placing a hand on your knee and giving it a light squeeze “and I promise to stop being creepy at least I’ll try. I mean I didn’t even know I was doing it” he said throwing his hands in the air and shaking his head. 

What ever Chris had imagined the future was going to be like after that evening, where you two spent the whole night talking and laughing, came true. From that night you and Chris became very close. Every morning you two would wake up at the same time and sit outside talking, making plans for the day. There were no more awkward moments, just pure joy. Chris and you were getting so close Scott started to get a bit jealous, since you were his friend first. He’d sometimes go into the living room and find you two on the couch watching a movie while holding each other. You’d ether be laying on his chest or Chris had his arms around you and your head on his shoulder.

Both you and Chris, also Scott who actually noticed before the two of you did, were developing feelings for each other. With every look, small touch to Chris just always finding a way to hold you. It was ether while watching movies, or while you were cooking or just standing and talking. His arms would find their way around your waist or shoulders. Soon he started to kiss your cheek more and more often. You loved all of those moments and your thoughts about this  quarantine had changed. At first you wished it would be over fast, but now you wished it never ended. You didn’t want those touches and kisses to end and Chris felt the same. Every time he was going to sleep he’d hope to get another day. Another day of your laughs, hugs, the feeling he got when you’d look in his eyes or how great and just right it felt to have you in his arms.

Most of all Chris hoped to man up and just tell you how he felt, and he hoped you you would feel the same way about him. In a way he felt you did, he saw how you looked at him. The way you’d lean into his hugs or when he’d kiss your cheek, how you’d blush a bit. He just hoped he wasn’t wrong in the things he saw. Hope was all he had at that point.

#Chris Evans Imagine #Chris Evans One Shot #Chris Evans #Imagine #Chris Evans x Reader

[florbexter]

Hi Flor! Can I request basically thara realizing he's a dumbass and is head over heels for frong, but he thinks he's ruined his chance with the whole "nong" thing he said?

Thara really needs to realize he’s a big old dumbass, so thank you for that prompt ^.^ I hope you like it ❤

I would be a fool (to not say I love you) || [AO3 Link]

Thara realized the extent of his actions as he was cleaning the gash on the left forearm of a fierce seven-year-old who had made herself the queen of the playground with a jump from an extremely high tree. The moment he had put antiseptic on the wound his brain had been flooded with an onslaught of memories of the volunteer camp and it had made click.

He froze and stared in horror at his hand, holding the little swab, and for fucks sake he really had said: “We are bro’s, right?”

He had said that. And for what it was worth he hadn’t meant it in the sense of being bro’s more in the sense of wanting to establish that they were close or that he considered them close and wow… he was a big dumbass.

He felt a scrutinizing gaze on him and almost jerked back when he made eye contact with his little patient.

Kids, especially girls, were something else. Thara was convinced that they held the answers to all the questions of the universe in their tiny bodies and that they knew it. Daonua, his little cousin, was the same with her endless questions and a gaze as if she just waited to be big enough to conquer everything. Which was fine with him, but he didn’t want them to know that he, at this moment in time, had a crisis because he was too dumb to get his phrasing right.

“There’s no need for stitches,” he said, and she actually frowned at him, not pleased with his decision. “But we are going to bandage it up.” It lessened the frown a little bit and he used the time to gather all the supplies to get a bit of order into his mind again.

Was this the reason why Frong avoided him?

Okay, it wasn’t like they had interacted a lot before the volunteering camp, their encounters had been coincidences, fate if one wanted to call it that, but they had exchanged numbers and Thara had even deleted all the pictures he had made of a shirtless Frong, with a heavy heart, but he was a gentleman and… he digressed.

He tried to concentrate on his task at hand, but his mind wandered.

How was one clearing up that kind of misunderstanding? Or was Frong on the same page? Did he think of them as platonic as well? What had his face looked like after Thara had said those stupid words? He couldn’t remember!

“All set,” he said and rolled away from the girl to write his treatment in her chart as he heard a short cough and he looked up to see the mother of the girl making little jerky head moves towards her daughter who inspected the bandage. He raised an eyebrow and her moves got jerkier and then he got it.

He cleared his throat and tried to look stern.

“I will prescribe a cream for you to apply on the wound, but the best thing to do is not to jump from high trees, okay?”

She rolled her eyes at him and scoffed.

Yeah… he had no problem with the rotation system of the med students, but he knew already why he wasn’t going to choose paediatrics. He was happier with brain scans.

The weary sigh the mother made before she ushered her daughter out of the room told him all about the success his little speech would have and when he wrote the last words of his report he had to smile.

And then he frowned. And put his head in his hands.

How could someone be such a dumbass? What had gone through his brain when he had said ‘We’re bros, right?’? Nothing probably. More like: Smiley Frong, brain shut-off.

Before he could second-guess his decision, he grabbed his phone and messaged Duen.

‘Do you have Frong’s schedule?’

His cousin answered in seconds.

‘Why should I have Frong’s schedule? He’s studying business management.’

‘Don’t you have access to the schedules via the university intranet? Look it up for me please.’

This time it took some time for Duen to answer.

‘Did you fall on your head? Since when did you graduate? You’re still a university student. You have access as well!’

Thara stared at the message for a moment and then laid his head down on the desk. Maybe a parasite had found its way into his brain, eating away on his brain cells. He certainly caught it when he was at the volunteering camp.

He stepped out of the treatment room to check if he had any more patients for the day but all the other kids in the waiting room had appointments with resident doctors and he quickly hurried past the nurse station to not get caught and made to do paperwork. The lounge for the med students was a little room, furnished with comfy but old couches, a wobbly table in the middle and shelves overflowing with textbooks. They were allowed to rest in the big lounges, which were brighter and bigger and had a couple of computers but for years now this room was favoured by the students. Someone was wrapped up in a blanket and sleeping on the couch so Thara stepped past them to sit down in front of the old and battered computer in the corner. Thara had never seen it turned off and speculated that was on purpose because it may never be able to boot again. The screen flickered, the ventilator did voices that were concerning but other than that the internet connection was fine and Thara logged into the university’s intranet.

It was even easier to get the schedule of the second year BBM students than he thought. Which was why he stood in the front of the business faculty an hour later and made his way to the computer labs where one of Frong’s lessons should end in about ten minutes. And he was nervous. How was he going to approach this?

‘Yo bro, just wanted to let you know I don’t technically think of us as bros.’?

What kind of hole had he dug himself? But it was too late to change his mind and think about this a little while longer. The door to the computer room opened and a bunch of students walked out and because his mouth still hadn’t learned to keep shut during important events he shouted “Frong!” as he saw him walking from the room in the other direction. His body even betrayed him, and his arm was raised for a wave.

Definitely, a brain-eating worm.

Frong stopped and turned around and Thara could see how he froze the moment he saw Thara and the change on his face, only for a millisecond, from surprised to reserved told Thara a lot. For example, the radio silence from Frong since the camp wasn’t because of his busy schedule.

He saw how Frong’s body swayed back, ready to just run away from Thara so he quickly walked up to him.

“Hey,” he said, strangely out of breath.

“Hey,” Frong answered and folded his arms in front of his chest. Which, yes, wasn’t a good beginning to all of this Thara thought.

“Do you have a moment?”, he asked, because it seemed like he needed to be in his most polite form.

“Why?”, Frong asked and his raised eyebrow almost touched his hairline. “Do you want to take me for a ride on your bicycle again?”

Ouch... That kind of hurt.

“Actually, riding your bike regularly will improve your heart and circulatory system and that’s not why I’m here.”

Frong sighed. It was the same annoyed sigh he had given him when Thara had wanted to buy the flowers and he had not missed it. Frong’s defence mechanisms seemed to be all about cutting someone where it hurt.

“I have a moment, what is it?”

Thara didn’t touch Frong. He gestured towards a little corner away from the curious whisper of Frong’s classmates. Frong’s posture was stiff and cold and Thara just wanted the Frong back who would smile at him.

Frong’s arms were still crossed and if annoyance had a face it would be Frong’s.

“It came to my attention,” and maybe it shouldn’t sound like someone had walked into the treatment room and had hit him over the head with the information about him bro-zoning Frong, but he was already talking so he continued, “it came to my attention that I’m a bit of a dumbass.”

Frong’s other eyebrow found its way to his hairline but something like curiosity sparked in his eyes.

“A dumbass?”

“Yes, like a huge dumbass. Things were said that weren’t really things I wanted to say.”

And Thara knew that Frong knew what he was talking about. And Frong’s stance became a bit less hostile.

“I didn’t mean them. I mean, I meant them in the affectionate spirit I thought I got across, which looks like I didn’t.”

Frong squinted at him and Thara felt sweat travelling down the back of his neck. Had he ruined this?

“Affectionate spirit?”, Frong asked and Thara’s heart pounded so hard he felt it in his throat. There was something akin to a smile lurking in the corner of Frong’s mouth and Thara saw how he fought against it but Thara knew he had a foot in the door, and he was going to push.

“Yes. I didn’t think my word would be perceived…”

“No,” Frong interrupted him, “that’s not what is important. Tell me more about you being a dumbass.”

“Big dumbass,” Thara agreed quickly and this time the smile was there. Tiny and cautious but there.

#florbexter writes #my engineer the series #tharafrong #romance #humour #tumblr prompt #canon divergence #ao3 link

[raleighcarrera]

lonely

ride or die | colt kaneko x mc (ellie wheeler)

he never expected to have to do any of this by himself. 

for @choicesoctoberchallenge2020 day 18 (lost)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @lovehugsandcandy ; @pixeljazzy ; @beccadavenport ; @zigtheeortega

~3.5k words | T

the reality is that being king of los angeles isn’t easy. it’s hard work -- late hours and long nights spent doing things he isn’t proud of and things he is kind of proud of but knows he shouldn’t be.

for as long as he could remember, colt knew he’d take over the operation, one day. kaneko autobody had been in his family for generations and the job was in his blood; he expected to step into the legacy his father left behind and have it fit like a glove.

he never thought it would feel like it actually does, exhausting and unfamiliar and weighty all at once. 

he never thought it’d all fall into his lap so suddenly. and as things started to shift around him, falling apart and reforming into strange pieces with jagged edges -- things he’d always wanted but presented in a way he never thought he’d have to receive them -- colt had started to assume that he wouldn’t have to handle it all alone.

but that was his mistake. he probably should have known better than to ever get his hopes up.

maybe his dad was right, and he wasn’t cut out for this. no matter how hard he tried to be as ruthless as possible, he couldn’t stop that soft spot he tried to repress from aching whenever he thought about her. he couldn’t help but to feel lonely -- to want.

as dumb as it probably was, he’d expected her to be by his side. and maybe it hurt so badly not to have ellie there because he knew better -- she was a tourist, after all. she was never going to hang back with the crew and let him ruin her life. whatever was going on between them had always had an expiration date.

but that part of him he couldn’t switch off had grown hopeful that things would be different.

not that he’d ever said as much to ellie. and she’d left, anyway, so it wasn’t like it mattered, anymore. 

she hadn’t even hesitated. she never looked back.

if it had been anyone else, he would have written them off instantly. there were plenty of people that were completely dead to colt for a variety of reasons, some minor and some catastrophic. he’d taken revenge more times than he could count on people who’d done a lot less than what ellie had.

so why couldn’t he force himself to forget about her?

why couldn’t he stop himself from thinking -- wondering -- hoping? when was it going to end?

it should have been easy to turn on her. they barely knew each other. he was a fucking idiot for thinking he loved her after spending a couple of months working together, he knew that much. the dumbest part of it all was how he thought she’d meant it when she’d said those three ridiculous words back to him.

none of it mattered, in the end -- the cars they’d stolen, everything they’d pulled off together, the magic they’d made. she’d still turned right around and left. 

maybe it would be easier to let her go if she didn’t insist on worming her way back into his life whenever she got the chance.

ellie’s freshman year flew by in a blink. she didn’t come home for thanksgiving, or christmas, and he put his head down and worked until he was exhausted -- until he’d fulfilled his promise to his dad’s memory and channeled his unbridled anger into the destruction he’d rightfully assumed would feel so satisfying to finally have.

the only hollow note was not being able to share it with her, for all she’d been through, too.

but she probably didn’t care about any of it as much as he did. she’d probably long forgotten her wild senior year in favor of an exciting new place to be and interesting new people to meet, people who had shit in common with her -- not real shit, like he did, but stupid, make-believe shit that she pretended to care about because she thought she had to, like her class rank or independent films. 

still -- she came home for the summer. and the shop was the first place she went when she got back.

he knew because he saw her car approach from the window, the backseat packed with her things. they’d had a screaming match that practically shook the block, that day, and an even more explosive fuck in the new break room, and then...

radio silence. for an entire summer.

and just when he’d started to have a prayer of forgetting about her, there she was again: winter break, sophomore year. no text to warn him ahead of time -- just ellie, at two o’clock in the morning on the wrong side of town, fresh off a delayed flight from the east coast and so tired she fell asleep as soon as he brought her up to the loft, before either of them could get their clothes off.

he still remembers the way she’d looked in his bed, her cheek mashed into his pillow with only the light from the city illuminating her beautiful face through the windows. 

and the way she snuck out in the morning, while he kept his eyes closed and pretended to sleep through it.

then there was spring break, and the night before she’d flown back to new york, when they’d stayed up all night talking about everything and nothing. he’d been an even bigger idiot, then, letting her so far in -- just a little bit more every time she came back.

the summer after her sophomore year he’d even told her he loved her again.

the answer she gave will never not be permanently seared into his brain.

i love you, too.

but that doesn’t change anything.

probably the most annoying part of it all is that she was right. it didn’t change anything.

the summer still ended, and ellie still left. 

pretty soon it’ll be time for winter break again, but for now she’s back at school and he’s home in LA and doing everything he possibly can to distract himself or take his mind off of her, but it doesn’t work and he’s alone when he never fucking expected to be and while there’s a lot of good that comes with suddenly wielding so much power, most of the time he just feels lost.

without her visits to tell the seasons by he knows he’d be drifting. work can only do so much to anchor him, and while he feels markedly better and more comfortable when he’s barking orders or fleshing out the finer details of a plan that’s going to make him a lot of money and even more notoriety, ellie’s always there, in the back of his mind.

okay, sometimes she’s in the forefront.

fine, most of the time she’s his every fucking thought. is that such a crime?

sometimes he hears her voice so clearly he’d swear she was there with him, another ghost haunting the shop he’ll never be able to knock out of his own head.

in between trying to forget about her, there’s alcohol and other girls and a lot of disregard for his own safety -- a lot of big risks, plans that are so dangerous and tough to pull off she’d never green light them, if she were here.

but she’s not. so there’s no one to stop him.

and he starts to resent her, just a little bit. it’s one of those things he isn’t exactly proud of, but it’s pretty much impossible not to, with the way she won’t just leave him alone and disappear completely so he can act like he never met her in the first place.

doesn’t she owe him that much, after everything? 

evidently not, as far as ellie’s concerned. 

she drops by the shop on a random tuesday and really rattles him -- it’s october, so there’s no reason for her to be on the west coast at all. he hasn’t prepared for this, like he has every december for the last few years, every mid-march and late may. 

just seeing her is equal parts exhausting, exhilarating and infuriating. his chest does something funny as his body tries to decide whether he’s annoyed or thrilled. 

he stares off after her as she breezes past him, dropping her bag by the door.

she offers up no explanation for her visit, but that’s par for the course, with ellie. ever since she started coming around again, she seems to just assume he knows what she’s doing here, like he can read her fucking mind or something.

well, he can’t. he shuts the door behind her just as his body settles on one reaction. annoyed it is, then. “why are you here?”

ellie purses her lips, like just the question’s bothering her. “um, i wanted to see you?” the way her voice lifts at the end implies she thinks it should be obvious.

well, it isn’t. “shouldn’t you be at school?”

she twists the cap back on the gatorade she’s stolen out of the break room fridge and shrugs at him. “probably.” straight, white teeth bite at her full bottom lip. “can we go upstairs?”

“no.” the word’s past his lips before he even realizes that’s how he planned on answering. colt blinks, ellie’s look of surprise surely mirrored on his own face. 

“what?” she asks, and something about how stunned she seems emboldens him to double down.

“no,” colt repeats, folding his arms over his chest. there was once a time where noticing the way ellie’s eyes tracked the shifting of his shirt was exciting -- something that made him smug. now it just feels wrong, like another thing he wanted that life is giving to him in the worst way possible. “we can’t. you should go home.”

that really throws her for a loop. she stands up a little straighter. “home? why?”

she has some nerve, acting like she hasn’t been scrambling his brain for the last two and a half years. how can she not know? “because i’m sick of this, ellie. i’m not doing it anymore.”

he watches her eyes narrow with a sick sense of excitement. this is the part that’s familiar -- the argument. they’ve always been good at this. “and what exactly is it that you think we’re doing?”

“we’re not doing anything, anymore. i’m the one who’s been letting you jerk me around, but it’s over. go back to school. get your degree. lose my number. stop fucking bothering me.”

“so now i’m bothering you?” she asks, her glare so bright it’s a struggle not to avert his eyes. but he doesn’t; colt squares his shoulders and holds her gaze, keeping the expression on his face even.

“not only now,” he answers, feeling a little more like himself with every minute that ticks by. this is where she should be -- at an arm’s length, on the outside of his attitude. he should’ve never let her get close enough to force her way past it in the first place. “pretty much all year.”

it’s not like he hasn’t been dodging her text messages; he has. ellie doesn’t reach out often, but every time she does it’s another punch to the gut, something he has to physically force himself not to respond to. no amount of work can distract from the magnetic pull of his cell phone when there’s an unread text from her waiting.

it’s never what he wants to hear, though. it’s always something inconsequential, a stupid hiiiii or a worthless photo of new york. 

he fantasizes often about the text he’d actually enjoy opening, reading and responding to, but it never comes. so he makes more work for himself and keeps his head down and tries, so fucking hard, not to think about her.

he tries and tries and it’s all for nothing, because she shows up and effortlessly sets his progress back without any effort at all.

“well if that’s how you feel, then don’t do me any favors,” she snaps, but makes no move to storm off back to the front of the shop where her bag and the door are waiting. 

“fine,” he answers, sweeping his arm out wide as if to say be my fucking guest, “get out of my hair, ellie. go waste someone else’s time.”

“god, will you get over yourself? like you don’t know how much i hate being away from you --”

“stop it.” colt blinks, surprised by the way his own voice sounds. even through all he’s done -- the stuff he’s proud of and the stuff he knows he shouldn’t be proud of but still is -- he’s never heard himself sound like this, before. “don’t start that shit with me.”

“why? too afraid you might feel something?” she turns her cheek on him, shaking her head. “i don’t know why i even bother.”

“what the fuck are you talking about? you’re the one who’s always hot and cold.” the one who won’t stick around. the one who runs from him like he’s contagious.

“because i hate hurting you,” ellie answers, so passionately it startles him quiet. “i know that saying -- that all of it just makes it worse when i go back. i know that, okay? but i can’t -- i have to finish school, colt.”

“then go to school.” something about finally saying it feels so freeing, lifting a heavy weight off his shoulders -- one he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying around. “you made your choice, so make it. leave me alone.”

ellie’s eyes start to shine; he forces his gaze away. that’s not fucking fair. she doesn’t get to cry -- not now. not after everything. she can’t just come in here and make that upset face and make him feel so fucking bad it’s nauseating -- she doesn’t get to do this to him.

“it’s not easy for me.” her voice is quiet, each word tight with emotion. he glares at the wall behind her. she’s not going to start crying and get him to relent. this argument is long overdue.

...that soft spot he has for her aches like a bruise.

damnit.

“colt?”

the hesitation in her tone pokes at it relentlessly. his stomach turns over as he realizes how unsure she sounds; she really thinks she isn’t welcome here, anymore.

“please don’t --” god fucking damnit. her voice is wavering, thick with tears he can see even without looking at her. “don’t be mad at me. i’m sorry, okay? i don’t mean to -- to hurt your feelings, and -- i’ve tried to avoid you, but. it’s not easy, colt. it’s so hard and i miss you so much and this is the only place i feel like myself and it’s like -- you’re the only person i know how to talk to and i want to be able to get over you, i do, and i know you want that too, but -- but --”

“ellie.” he sighs heavily, pressing his fingers into his eyes until he’s seeing stars, “don’t --”

too late. she lets out an audible sob that’s so loud it makes him wince, and then look around for an escape route, and then it ultimately weakens the last of his resolve until his feet propel him forward, shuffling against the cement floor to close the distance between them. “jesus christ, just stop it. come here.”

she falls heavily against his chest, and the part of him that’s been mentally counting down the days to her winter break seizes up happily despite himself; colt tucks his chin over her head and wraps his arms around her and forgets, for a moment, why this is such an awful idea.

he forgets about everything, actually, except for her.

then ellie’s sniffles taper off and the moment ends and he realizes what a gigantic fucking idiot he is for letting her snot up his shirt when he’s the one who’s constantly having his life ruined, who’s rightfully annoyed. colt pulls her back gently with his hands at her shoulders, holding her at both a literal and emotional arm’s length.

“what’re you even doing here? it’s the middle of the semester.”

her eyes are still glassy, the expression on her face pained. “i wanted to see you.”

something in his brain short circuits, giving up on trying to process her answer entirely. 

out of all the million-and-one reasons she could have to be back in los angeles in the middle of the semester -- her dad had a heart attack, langston decided to close its campus, she worked so hard she was graduating a year early -- there was never a single part of him that had anticipated that answer.

and he has no idea what he’s supposed to say back.

especially not with her so close it’s taking everything he has not to pull her back into his arms and drag her upstairs.

that’s what she does to him. she makes it so he doesn’t know which way is up, so that he’s so confused and torn up his stomach is in knots all day, so that he’s so lost he isn’t even sure what he wants anymore when he finally has everything he’d ever planned for and can’t even fucking enjoy it because it turns out there’s no point in being king of anything without her in the seat she was made for.

“you flew all the way back here for what?” he asks, an edge to his voice that’s familiar but that he’s never used on her before. “an argument?”

ellie shakes her head. his annoyance worsens.

“a fuck?”

“no.” one delicate, charm-bracelet adorned wrist lifts to rub at her eyes. “i just wanted to see you. that’s all.” he stares at the line of her throat when she swallows. “i used my airline miles.”

christ. it’d be helpful if his brain would finish rebooting and finally come back online. “how long are you in town for?”

she sniffs. “two days.”

and then, the elephant in the room: “does your dad know?”

her hesitation would be enough of an answer on its own, but she still says, “no. just you.”

just you. his brain feels like swiss cheese.

colt stares at her for so long she starts fidgeting. there’s a lot they could talk about in two days. forget talking, actually -- a lot they could do. a lot of ways he could convince her to rethink this east coast thing, one more time...

but he knows he’s getting carried away again. he knows he shouldn’t be so hopeful, when ellie’s only ever disappointed him. just because she’s as lonely as he is doesn’t mean anything is going to change. 

“this is the last time,” he lies, as the silence stretching between them starts to grow awkward. his own heavy swallow doesn’t stop his voice from shaking. “i mean it.”

“okay.” ellie’s voice is so small. it feels wrong.

but there’s nothing wrong about having her all to himself for the next forty-eight hours. that -- this -- ellie showing up on his doorstep after a spontaneous flight home just to see him -- feels like a fantasy made reality, a dream he shouldn’t be allowed to indulge in.

there’s nothing wrong about the way his hand links through hers to lead her upstairs, where she belongs. 

it all seems perfect when she unpacks her duffel and mixes her t-shirts in with his on the loft floor. 

every minute of mental torture he’s experienced over the last three years is worth it, just to be able to fall asleep with her two nights in a row. 

it’s a beautiful lie. of course he’s not going to turn it down.

he knows it’ll be worse when she leaves this time than it ever has been -- that he’ll have to watch her disappear down the block and find a way to work on something for six hours straight to keep his mind off her flight back, that he’ll do his best not to keep his phone nearby all night in the hopes that he’ll hear from her but ultimately fail, that the stupid soft spot he’s cultivating for her that won’t go away will spread and worsen in the immediate aftermath of having her here and getting to play house, even if only for a few days.

on monday, he’s going to feel more lost than ever. this alternate reality will fade back into one of his too-hopeful dreams, so he might as well enjoy the quiet that being with ellie brings, for now -- the way having her voice with him in real life silences the ellie he hears in his head, and eclipses some of his longing loneliness with pure warmth and purpose, making a few days spent with her the most worthwhile thing he can think of to put his time into.

even if it doesn’t change anything.

#colt kaneko #ride or die #colt kaneko x mc #ellie wheeler #colt kaneko x ellie wheeler #myfic #long post #choicesoctoberchallenge2020 #idk where this is going i didn't plan it at all i just randomly got an idea and sat down and wrote it in one sitting and #idk i guess i just missed writing colt ok !! must there always be plot #isn't it enough to simply vibe #i just thought it was an interesting theme to play with ok

[lgbtyrus]

This Love Will Never Be Convenient - “Flashlight”

A/N: So I consumed a lot of amazing LukeBobby content. Got brain rot. And now I have this little worm in my brain whispering, “Write LukeBobby. Write LukeBobby,” and I produced this. So guess what everyone! Bullying works :)

This story will be multiple chapters/snippets of Bobby and Luke’s relationship. Some short, some long. All with The Front Bottoms references because I imagine their relationship with added romantic tension is a TFB album. I guess I don’t really have to say this because we all know, but this is my personal take on Bobby. 

Ao3 Link

“Flashlight”

Words: 1.9k

The white of the flashlight went through the window of the house next door and hit Luke’s bedroom window. It flashed in and out, going over a small area of posters and pictures Luke had hung up. There wasn’t a single piece of wall that wasn’t decorated with pictures of bands, instrument catalogue papers, and polaroids of the boys.

Luke chuckled, letting the light go around for a bit before he got out from under his bedsheets. He walked over to his window that was glued shut by his parents and could see Bobby’s face light up when he saw him. Bobby pointed down, outside to the ground and Luke nodded before walking to his closet.

He put on a hoodie and some pink fuzzy socks Bobby would tease him for before quietly sneaking past his parents’ bedroom. They were heavy sleepers and didn’t catch Luke most of the time that he walked right out the front door late at night. It just the one time that they caught him leaving through the window that turned into a huge deal that grounded him for a month. During the day, he wasn’t allowed to go out but at night, he’d walk through the front door and go straight to Bobby’s garage so they could drive to practice. That was the month their sleeping schedules got wrecked.

Luke silently shut the door and turned around to Bobby standing there, fully dressed with his hands in his jacket. Luke rose an eyebrow, scanning him and his denim on denim outfit up and down and back up. Luke had sweats and slippers on.

“Where we going?”

“Burger King,” Bobby said, starting to walk away.

“Let me get my wallet,” Luke said, about to turn around.

Without stopping, Bobby said back to him, “You got me last time, so I got you this time.” Luke stood still and smiled for a moment before jumping back into the reality of a cold summer night. Like a little kid again, he sped to Bobby’s lawn where his van was already running. Luke knew he left it warming up for him because for someone who hated sleeves, he hated the cold. But Bobby would never admit to it and would stop doing it if he pointed it out.

They started driving away, Luke looking in the backseats of the van. Bobby’s graduation robe and cap were thrown there next to what he recognized as one of Alex’s orange fanny packs and a single checkered van that belonged to Reggie.

“Any special occasion?” Luke asked Bobby as he reached over to crank up the heat. He took note that the corner of Bobby’s lips contorted into a small smile. He always tried to hide them.

“I’m hungry, and you’re free,” Bobby said flatly.

“How do you know I wasn’t busy?” Luke asked him. Bobby side eyed him and didn’t say anything, sighing deeply. He knew that most of the time that Luke said stuff to him, he just wanted to bother him. Luke knew he wasn’t going to answer either as Bobby reached over to change the song the Everclear CD was playing. Not a big fan of “Father of Mine” apparently.

“Have you written any new songs?” Bobby asked after a minute of silence between the two.

“I got like two that are halfway done,” Luke said. He looked out the window, saying goodbye to their familiar neighborhood and entering the heart of the city through the freeway. “But I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Bobby asked. He sounded confused and beneath his straight lips that could have been a frown if he wasn’t so… Bobby, there was some concern. “You usually say they’re the best songs in the world. What’s been up with you lately.” Luke looked at Bobby who was focusing hard on the road. So this is why he had taken him out.

Alex and Reggie could easily ask Hey man, are you good? I noticed you’ve been down? Do you need help? to Luke and get an answer out of him within minutes. And then they’d either give him advice or just make him feel better because he had friends that listened.

Bobby was a different story. Bobby was not one to ask if someone else was okay. Directly at least. He was an acts of service type of guy (Alex’s ex-boyfriend had them all look up their love languages and it made more sense than astrology to Luke). Although those favors were never asked for in the first place. It sometimes annoyed Luke because it meant Bobby got himself in messes that he couldn’t get out of. Like trying to fix Reggie’s bass for him and making it worse. Or teaching Luke how to do laundry that one week he stayed at Bobby’s place because his parents went on vacation, and he ended up ruining all of Luke’s shirts.

Treating him to Burger King was another act of service Luke did not ask for, but it did make him smile because Bobby had noticed something was up.

Bobby was a bit like him. Stubborn. My way or the highway. Like having eyes on him. Anytime someone cried, they both freaked out. Things they both never grew out of.

But while Luke grew out of hiding his love for his friends once Reggie and Alex joined their friend group in middle school, Bobby didn’t. He stayed reserved yet friendly as much as Luke would overly cling to his shoulder, hug him, and occasionally plant kisses on his face that would make Bobby pretend to throw up. That was just Bobby’s personality- to look like he didn’t care to seem cooler. Even when was a huge dork.

“I dropped out of the community college classes I registered for,” Luke admitted to him.  

“Oh,” Bobby muttered. He glanced at Luke from the corner of his eyes before looking back at the road. “Let me guess. You haven’t told them?” Them. Always referring to his parents like if they were further than his own parents all the time. Sometimes it bothered Luke, but he knew why his friends had disdain towards his parents. Same reasons he did, and he couldn’t blame them. He didn’t exactly talk about them just to say positive things.

“Nope,” Luke shook his head.

“You have like three weeks,” Bobby said, pointing at his mini calendar on his dashboard. It was still on March despite it being late July.  

“Can’t I just pretend to carpool with you when you have classes?” Luke laughed. Bobby rolled his eyes as he turned into the exit of the street Burger King was on. “Come on. You’d already be on the way.”

“You’re just going to lurk on campus like a creep?” Bobby asked him.

“Yes,” Luke said. His face broke into a crooked smile, “Meet someone cute in the library, maybe.”

Bobby started muttering bitterly under his breath, “Insufferable. That’s what you are, insufferable.” Luke knew that would get him annoyed, and his laughter roared over the music. Bobby gave him another glare. “Look,” Bobby said out loud, “just rip off the band-aid. That’s what we’re all going to tell you to do.”

“I think Reggie would like my plan,” Luke said, reaching over to put his hand on the back of Bobby’s neck. Bobby side eyed Luke, but he didn’t shove his hand off. He knew it was either that or Luke would have his pointer and middle fingers pretend to run a marathon on the dashboard- narration included. If Luke didn’t have to resort to finger sprinting, it meant Bobby was in a good enough mood to let him keep his hand on him for a while.

Luke’s love language had come up to be physical touch and all three of the boys agreed that it was true. Luke protested for a bit but in that moment, he had put his arms around both Reggie and Alex’s necks and they looked at him like really? He didn’t argue against it after that.

Bobby was not one who liked to be touched. But he put with it when it came to cute girls flirting backstage or Luke- if he wasn’t in a bad mood. Luke always felt like Bobby was just tolerated him, but it was moments like him taking him to get food so late at night that reminded him that they were friends. Who made out like twice a long time ago but that’s not important right now.

Bobby pulled them into the parking lot of Burger King and got in the drive-thru line. It was a bit long for it being 11PM, but that’s how it usually was at any time of the day. He ignored Luke’s Reggie comment and was back to humming.

“Bobby,” Luke said.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Luke said, smiling and sticking out his tongue at him. He didn’t expect Bobby to smile back, but he did and like always, the way his eyes were barely open when he smiled so big opened up a black hole in Luke’s chest that erupted musical notes and butterflies. It was a stupid feeling.

Luke took his hand off Bobby’s neck and reached under the passenger seat. After flicking aside a water bottle cap and an old French dry, he found what he was looking for- his Polaroid camera. He started keeping it in Bobby’s van after always forgetting it for shows.

Luke pointed the camera at Bobby, finding him through the tiny lens and said, “Smile.”

“Why?” Bobby asked, already fixing his hair. Luke watched him glance at himself in the rearview mirror.

“So I can take pictures of you and hang them in my room.” Bobby didn’t say anything else and smiled before the flash went off. He seemed a little more content. Luke got the picture that came out and set it carefully on the dashboard before getting ready to take a picture of both him and Bobby.

“Your selfies never come out, dude. You’re just wasting film,” Bobby said. And before he could adjust himself and smile, Luke hit the photograph button and the flash blinded them. “Yeah, that one less.”

“Relax,” Luke said to him, placing the second photo on the dashboard. “You don’t have to look hot in every photo.” Luke knew what he was insinuating, but it didn’t make him stutter. He always complimented Bobby, and when he looked at him, like he predicted, Bobby was looking out the driver’s seat window at the very interesting beige Burger King brick wall. Luke smirked as he stared at the back of Bobby’s head. He could not take a compliment from Luke as much as he liked to receive them from other people.

Luke reached over to play with the back of Bobby’s hair, and Bobby didn’t move a bit. He was probably waiting for him to do it. Luke’s hands always found him in moments of silence.

Luke noticed the car in front of them moving forward and patted Bobby on the back.

“Go,” Luke said. Bobby faced forward again, avoiding looking at him even from the corner of his eyes as he drove forward. Luke placed his hands on his face as he stared at him, making sure he was in Bobby’s peripheral vision.

“What, dude?” Bobby smacked his lips together, looking at Luke. The question came out a lot more bashfully and quiet than his usual pissed off remarks. He bagged him for the night, and he wasn’t even trying.

“Nothing,” Luke said. “Just like looking at ya’.” Bobby rolled his eyes but from the distant Drive Thru menu sign lighting, Luke could see the scarlet on Bobby’s cheeks. Luke couldn’t stop his face from heating up either. 

#julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #bobby wilson #lukebobby #jatp #stars writing #perhaps this fic is just me processing my breakup but we aint gotta talk about that

[korra-the-red-lion]

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 7: Sweet Dreams.

(Lyn + Michael)

Lyn.

Push. Hold. Lower. Hold. Repeat.

I mechanically went through the motions of my push-ups. They always say exercises are supposed to release those happy feelings, yet it wasn’t helping me all that much right now. I lowered myself all the way down and rolled onto my back, staring up at the morning sky.

It was a chilly morning, which wasn’t all that surprising since it was October. The grass was wet enough that I could feel my back getting soaked from just lying here. I forced myself up into a crunch, holding for 5 seconds before lowering myself down again.

My mind wouldn’t stop replaying the scene of Jackie just lying there. Every time I closed my eyes it was just there. It was really fucking with me. I haven’t really spoken to anyone about it. I didn’t really want to. I know what was holding me back from getting the help I needed, but I couldn’t fight through it. It was like this whole thing has royally screwed with my hold on myself, and now things were spiraling out of my control.

Then there was what Ally and her friend Michael explained to me the other day. It was so utterly ridiculous, but it was something. It made zero sense to me, but so did fucking blood showers and random attacks in the locker room, so in some way it made more sense than anything else. I mean, I thought I did see a shadow in the tree after Ally told me she didn’t like being there, and I know there was writing on the wall. And Jackie’s wound…those were claw marks, not knife wounds.

My stomach lurched when I thought about the wound and I rolled onto my side, steadying my breathing. I screwed my eyes shut and forced my brain to think about anything besides that. For whatever reason, it settled on Nailed It. I started giggling like a madwoman as I fought off my nausea. Man, I must look like a strange site right now.

I forced myself to my feet and sluggishly walked back to my res. When I opened my door, Nura looked over and frowned.

“Lyn, are you okay?”

“Hmm,” I hummed. I picked through my drawer to find a clean shirt to wear.

“You just seem…different. Do you want to talk about it?” I could hear the concern in her voice, and it made me sick to my stomach. I hated when someone worried about me. With my back still to her, I took a deep breath and plastered a smile on my face before turning around.

“I’m good, thanks! Just a little tired, that’s all,” I said. Ugh, my voice sounded so bloody fake.

Nura nodded slowly but she definitely didn’t believe me in the slightest. I turned away and grabbed a few more things before heading to the showers.

I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, but the icky feeling that was worming around inside my body wouldn’t go away. I was shaking as I washed my hair, trying to calm myself down. There was no need to get so worked up over nothing. Something. Worked up over something. Something out of my control.

I need to get my head on straight. Maybe once I ate something I’d feel better. It felt like a false hope, but it was something. I carefully cleaned under my nails, paranoid that Jackie’s blood was still under them. I cleaned them religiously 3 times a day, but the feeling was still lingering. Finally, feeling extremely raw from all the scrubbing, I stepped out of the shower and dressed quickly.

Not wanting to talk to Nura again, I dumped my stuff off quickly and made a beeline for food hall. I zipped my parka up and pulled up the hood. It was threatening to rain already, and I didn’t want to get cold after just getting out of the shower.

The smell of food didn’t really entice me like I figured, but I still grabbed a plate of eggs and toast. I sat down at a mostly empty table and slowly worked my way through the food. My stomach was still squirming around, and the food wasn’t making it feel any better.

I heard the footsteps before I even saw who they belonged to. Those stomping steps could only belong to her. “Lyn, Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker,” snarled Loryn as she sat down across from me. “Why are you avoiding me? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days now!”

I cringed and looked away, shame colouring my cheeks. “Oh…hey Loryn.”

“Oh, do not ‘hey Loryn’ me, Lyn!” She slammed her hand on the table. “You show up for practice looking like an absolute wreck and speed out of there so fast I didn’t get a chance to even say hi! What the hell is going on?!”

“Loryn please, not here,” I muttered, very aware of some of the people listening in.

“Not here?” Loryn seethed, “Then where? Because like I said, you’ve been dodging me since the hospital.”

I rubbed at my face awkwardly, not sure how to answer. I settled for a shrug and a small shake of my head, which only annoyed Loryn more.

“Okay, fuck this.” She got up and walked around, grabbing me by the wrist and forcing me to my feet. “We’re walking. Let’s go.”

I meekly followed her out of the food hall, knowing there was no way I was going to get away from her this time. The rain had started to fall lightly as we stepped outside. Loryn’s angry stomps simmered down to heavy clomps as we walked towards the little pond.

“You better start speaking now, Lyn” said Loryn sternly. I knew she wasn’t going to stay mad at me for long, but the concern I saw in her eyes didn’t make me feel much better.

“If I told you I wasn’t really sure, how mad would you be?” I asked lightly, trying to joke a little.

Loryn’s mouth twitched slightly as she crossed her arms. “I have two older sisters, Lyn, and a little one. I can literally stand here all day if I have to.”

I sighed, shoulders dropping heavily. “I just…I dunno. I’m processing a lot of things right now…” I shoved my hands in my pockets sullenly.

“I get that,” said Loryn as she threw a hand up angrily, “but Lyn, you can’t just push everyone out when you are going through things. We’ve been over this before!”

My mind flashed back to first year, when I got into a huge fight with my parents over Thanksgiving break. That was when I spiralled the first time, indulging in a lot of self-destructive behaviours. Like my extremely unhealthy dating speed run, or my run in with Adderall. Loryn was the first one to notice that something was going on, and I eventually broke down and told her what happened.

My relationship with them was complicated. Being the youngest daughter in a family of three, I had a lot of expectations to live up to. They expected absolute perfection at all times, which is where my need for perfect grades comes from, as well as all the extra training I did on my own. I was getting better, but I still tended to retreat into myself when dealing with an extreme number of emotions. I didn’t want other people to be bothered with me, most likely caused by my upbringing. Asking for help meant you were falling behind the bar, and well…yeah, lots of fighting.

I sighed again, looking at Loryn’s shoulder instead of her face. “I can’t sleep.”

“How long?”

“Since…” my voice got caught in my throat. “…the whole locker room thing. It started a little before, I think. But when I saw…I just can’t sleep right now.”

“Lyn…” Loryn’s voice softened. “It’s totally normal, okay? What you saw…I can’t even imagine that. But it’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up.”

“I know that!” I snapped, before dropping my head in shame. “Sorry. I know that,” I repeated, less annoyed, “but they’re in my head. You know she called me?”

“She did?”

“Yeah.” I kicked a pebble away, watching it fly. “She must have gotten word of the whole incident or something. Anyway, they wanted to check in on me, but I didn’t answer at first. Then I made the stupid fucking mistake of answering the second time.”

Loryn frowned in displeasure. “Yeah? And what?”

I shook my head. “Just the whole ‘well I’m glad to hear that you’re okay,’ which would have been fine if it wasn’t followed up with ‘I just hope this doesn’t affect your grades.’”

Loryn’s face went red with anger, similar to how she looked at me earlier. “Are you serious? One of your friends got hurt and that’s what she says to you?”

“Yup,” I said flatly. “So, on top of my fucking night terrors, I’ve got my mum on my mind. Mix it all together and you get one miserable Lyn,” I finished with a pathetic laugh.

“Lyn, c’mere,” Loryn said with her arms opened wide. I walked into her hug and let her squeeze me tightly. “What you’re going through is allowed, but you gotta open up. I can’t help you if you avoid me like the plague.”

I dropped my chin on the top of her head. “I know, I’m a dumbass.”

“That much is obvious,” Loryn muttered into my shoulder. “Did they give you anything at the hospital?” I shook my head. “Okay, then we need to get something to help you. Because I don’t know how to say this nicely, so I won’t, but you look like shit.”

I chuckled weakly. “Do you say that to all your boyfriends?”

“Only when they look like shit,” she said curtly. “Come on, let’s go do something fun to help you relax a little, then we are totally figuring out who we can call about this.”

“Fine,” I mumbled. “But I have plans today, so can this not take long?”

“What? What kind of plans do you have?”

“I’m…” Shoot, I don’t know how to explain I was going to look into the history of the school because I was going ghost hunting. My brain scrambled to make up something intelligent to say but it couldn’t. Loryn was looking at me questioningly, no doubt thinking I was making it up so I could get out of talking to someone. I finally settled on a half-truth.

“I’m meeting up with Ally later,” I said lamely. I totally never planned on bringing her. Sifting through the archives could take a ton of time and I wouldn’t want to make her help with that.

Loryn made a thoughtful face before breaking out in a playful grin. I was confused and asked, “What’s that face for?”

“Nah, not telling,” she said teasingly.

“What the heck? What about being open and shit?”

“Oh, that’s only for you! I don’t keep locking away my feelings.”

I groaned, “Loryn, just tell me pleaseeeeee.”

“’The cute brunette,’” she said, doing a poor imitation of me.

My ears heated up. “What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

Loryn giggled. “Oh, nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“She’s cute, yeah. And I like hanging out with her,” I said throwing my hands in the air, “so what?”

“This is like your second date already,” Loryn pointed out.

Okay, now my face was heating up. “I-I- no, I mean, it’s not like that,” I spluttered as Loryn laughed at me. “I mean, yeah, she’s cute and really fun to hang around with, but that’s all that’s going on, you know?”

“Whatever you say, Lyn. I don’t get in the way of you dating.” Loryn nodded approvingly. “She’s a better pick than Derek at least. No wait, scratch that, the dirt on my shoe is a better choice than him.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” she stuck her tongue out.

I grabbed her tongue with a small smirk on my face. “Ally is just a friend, that’s all. Who knows, maybe it will become something more but right now it’s nothing. I don’t know her all that well. She just asked for my help on a history thing. I gotta put this big brain of mine to good use, you know?”

Loryn pulled her tongue away and smiled cheekily at me. “Okidoki. Alrighty, let’s go.”

“Do we have to?”

“Lyn!”

I held my hands up defensively. “Kidding, only kidding.”

Maybe this whole talking to someone thing might be good for me. I already felt a little bit better, even if I was running on very little sleep. I would never admit to Loryn that she was right about this though, because she would never let me live it down. Sometimes it would have been nice to have a friend like her growing up. I probably would have been a little better adjusted, but it is what it is. That’s what growing up is, right? Learning how to be your own person and discovering things you never knew before.

XXX

Michael

If someone told me that I would be swiping some of my lab equipment so I could do a test on a sample from in the locker room from a supposed ghost attack at the beginning of the school year, I would have laughed politely and nodded along without believing a word they said.

But here I was, doing just that.

If my lab partner Travis noticed, he didn’t say anything. We were looking at blood samples today and he kept smushing the lens containing the blood by accident, and I think he just wanted to leave.

Time in lab always seemed to drag on forever. It might have to do with the 3hr slot that was dedicated to it, but I felt like my energy was slowly being drained away. Finally, the TA looked over and told everyone to start cleaning up. I quickly put everything away and wiped down my station, ready to get the heck out of here.

“Hey, Michael?”

I held back from gritting my teeth and looked over at the TA. “Yea’?”

She smiled at me and handed me my assignment back. “You almost forget this.”

I chuckled with a sheepish grin as I took it. “Oh, thanks Jas.”

“No problem.”

After that nearly embarrassed display on my part, I was out of here. I slipped off my lab shoes and tossed them into my backpack with my lab coat. I slipped my sneakers on and pulled my coat from the hook as I sped to the door, ready to get out of here.

It was raining when I came out, which was a bit of a mood killer. Then a thought popped in my head.

Wait, why was I in lab? They��re cancelled for the week.

All of a sudden, the sky rumbled as if it was annoyed that I came to this realization. I looked around, seeing if there was anyone around. The whole campus was empty, except one person sitting on the steps leading into the Harper building. I madly ran over, my feet slipping on the wet pavement with something that definitely not rain.

“Hey! HEY!” I hollered, trying to get their attention. They wouldn’t look up. Maybe they couldn’t hear me? I yelled louder, waving my arms around. Finally, they looked over.

Half her face was rotting off. Skin was hanging by threads as her face oozed with pus. Her left eye was leaking something cloudy, and her smile was disturbing. I forced myself to stop running towards her, backpedalling to now get away. But she lifted a hand and crooked her finger, and I was pulled over against my will, like there was a giant hand tugging at me.

“W-what do you w-want?” I stuttered nervously.

She tilted her head, and a chuck of skin plopped to the ground. I nearly threw up right there, but I managed to hold it in. Barely. She stood up and I could see that other parts of her body were equally as rotten. She opened her mouth and shrieked in my face, spittle and pus and blood all splashing against me.

Oh my God oh my God ohmygod.

Her finger dug into my cheek as her good eye examined me. “You are the perfect specimen,” she said, her voice sounding like echoes in my ears. Before I could ask what she meant by that, she stabbed her hand through my chest.

I woke up with a jolt.

I quickly patted my hands over my chest but there was no bleeding. I sighed in relief before grabbing my phone to check the time. It was just around 11, I must have turned my alarm off by accident. I used the hem of my shirt to wipe the sweat off my face before texting Ally.

M: Ally, I just had a super weird dream.

It didn’t take long for her to reply.

                                                                                  A: Huh? What do you mean?

M: I was in lab when suddenly I realized that we have no classes and there was this woman sitting on the steps of Harper. I went over to ask her something and she was a rotting corpse!!!

                                                                                  A: are you serious?

M: yeah!! Then she fricking stabbed me!!!

                                                                                  A: D:

                                                                                  A: OMG

                                                                                  A: That sounds so freaky

M: yea for realz! She said something really weird to me to

M: *too

M: she said you are the perfect specimen

                                                                                 A: oh spicy, ghost has the hots for you

                                                                                 A: plz invite me to the wedding

M: Ally I was murdered in my dreams and you think we should get married?

                                                                                 A: was it your worst date ever then?

M: … I would say yes

M: though my date with Kiki Gillmore was pretty bad too

                                                                                 A: :P

I put my phone down and chewed on my nail, feeling a little better about the whole thing. It was just really freaky to feel something going though my body like that. I don’t even know who she was, but she looked pretty pissed off. And that voice, man. That was freaky crap. It wasn’t the first time I had a strange dream like that, but they were never that violent.

What did my dad always say about strange dreams? Michael, all dreams have some basis in reality. If something happens in a dream, there must be a reason for it.

Whelp, I really really really hope that wasn’t the case here. I’m not sure about other people, but I wasn’t a big fan of dying. Especially dying by hand stabbing. If I was going to die, I wanted it to be at least peaceful or heroic.

Deciding I needed to get rid of the heebie jeebies, I rolled out of bed and put on some clean clothes. There as a small shop that sold neato things like crystals and stuff. The lady who owned the store even did tarot readings. If there was some place I could buy ghostly protection from, it would be her place.

I suspiciously glanced at the rain-soaked pavement as I walked down towards the main street. At least it was just rain this time.

It didn’t take me too long to make it to The Dreaming Mythic. As usual, it looked pretty dead on the inside. I popped in, making sure the door closed behind me so the rain didn’t get in. Instantly I got hit with the smell of sage and…lavender? I think it was lavender. I poked around for a little bit before I approached the counter after getting freaked out by the petrified doll heads.

Being stabbed by a rotting corpse ghost was preferable to death by dolls.

Talia, the owner of the shop, smiled when she saw me approached. Probably because I’m the first customer she’s had today. Or in the last few days. Regardless, she leaned forward and asked, “Well, what can I do for you today, Mr. Yamamoto?”

I smiled at her pleasantly. “Hey, Talia. This probably won’t sound too strange to you, but I’m in the market for some magical protection,” I said, wiggling my fingers at her for dramatic effect.

“What kind of protection exactly?”

I pointed up. “Protection from them.”

She looked bemused. “Angels?”

Oh, she was playing with me today. I laughed and shook my head. “Nah, I wish. What I’m looking for is something to protect me and a few friends against ghosts.”

“Ghosts, is it?” She frowned and rubbed her nose. “What kind of ghosts?”

“I think they’re angry, maybe even vengeful.”

“Ah,” she said softly. She turned around to open up a small cupboard above her head. “How did you get mixed up with an angry spirit, Mr. Yamamoto?”

I crossed my arms behind my head, stretching my back out. “Uh, it’s not me exactly. Well, it kinda is. My friend, Ally, she’s the one getting into it. Her friend, Lyn, and some of the other girls on the swim team are being haunted, we think.”

“Oh, I heard about that poor kid getting attacked,” she commented. “It sounded a little too convenient to just be a knife attack. And right after they had such an ominous warning sign?” She shook her head in mild disappointment as she continued to gather things in her arms.

I poked at the amulets dangling from the display as I waited for her to finish up. Talia was nearly done, as she put down her armful of items before disappearing into the back room for a few minutes. I looked down, not sure exactly what gems she had pulled out. I recognized the amethyst, but that was about it. I wasn’t exactly a rock guy. Finally, she came back with a large dusty book and dropped it on the counter.

“I don’t know the personalities of the people you’re helping,” she said carefully, “but anyone who is willing to get entangled with the departed is someone who has done this before. I think for your friend Ally, this is what she needs.”

She handed me a necklace with an amethyst stone in the middle and some bracelet with a black stone in the center. “Amethyst is for soothing the user, and the onyx will help protect the wearer from dark spirits. For you, son, I recommend a peridot. It is associated with protection, purity, and emotional balance.” She frowned, muttering under her breath. She grabbed a ring off the counter and placed it gently in my hand. “Give this to the tall one. She’s going to need the quartz if she plans on helping you. All of you should be wearing some form of onyx, if I’m being truthful.”

I looked down at the various jewelry in my hands. “Um…how much do I owe you?”

She stared at me very intensely. I never really noticed it before, but the green in her eyes looked a little yellow in this light. She gave me a small smile. “$15.”

That seemed extremely underpriced. I raised my brow in question, but she only shook her head. “Mr. Yamamoto, how would you feel if you charged someone an insane price to help protect themselves from something that might kill them?”

“Super crappy, I guess,” I said quietly. The thought of the ghosts killing us was something that never once crossed my mind. I tapped my debit card against the machine and thanked her before heading out, my backpack now filled with various forms of protection.

Well, at least I felt a little productive today. Later tonight Lyn was planning on doing some research, I think. And I know Ally hasn’t said anything about joining her, but I had a sneaky feeling in my gut that she was going to. I wasn’t like, 100% sure, but the eyes she was giving Lyn during our chat had been p r e t t y intense. I chuckled to myself, because I was pretty sure Ally wasn’t completely aware of it just yet.

Nothing like a little romance to spice up a good old ghost hunt, amiright?

#unnatural affairs #ua #ally holland #lyn hart #michael yamamoto #original story #original fiction #paranormal #murder mysteries #mystery #romance #ghosts #loryn frasier

[nightwhite13]

at first i wanna write something serious, but somewhere along the way @vallern came up with a hc and everything went crack from there, and she helped me wrote this even tho she didn’t play the game, ugh her mind. so if u asking us about plot, tone, etc? we dont know her. this set in distant future or an au idk, no one knows

anyway, stay strong during this trying time, fellow clowns

tagging @somewillwin @uhh-the-green-thing @poppy-sin-clair @malvinghlein @jmojellybae  @simpforpoppy

The sound of your heels echoed between the dull conversation of the other students, still lingering at campus after their class. You ignored the worried glances they throw at you. You didn’t care; it wasn’t the first time they gawked at you nor will it be the last, but this time, it felt different because you fucking knew why they were looking at you, and it’s not because of something good.

Good, bad, neutral.

Once upon a time it’s such a foreign concept for you; after all, everything is acceptable in the name of profit, your father once said to you when he taught you everything you need to know to take over the family’s company.

“Poppy, wait!”

You grit your teeth and walked faster, thankful because unlike some idiot you can actually walk in heels. Hell, you probably could climb Mount Everest with one.

“Poppy, holy shit, stop!”

You ignored him, but you can tell he’s getting closer to you.

You screamed when Carter caught up with you. He tugged your wrist until you stopped walking, almost making you fall because of the sudden movement.

“Let go of me, you idiot!” You hissed as you yanked your hand away from his big hand.

“Look, it wasn’t her fault!” Carter said between his panting.

Your cheeks burn, remembering what you just saw a few minutes ago. “I don’t care whose fault…”

“Persephone kissed her, okay, we were just hanging around waiting for you and…”

“Why are you even waiting for me?” You know your class was going to take forever so you told Bea to go on ahead with everyone else and you can go there with Uber or something since you just had a fight with your parents and they forbid Samuel to pick you up. You don’t want to hear the jocks complaining because you disturbed their lunch scheduled–and they called you drama queen–so you thought it's better if Bea and the others leave first.

Carter looked at you softly. “You’re our friend; of course we’re going to wait for you.”

You looked away, unable to keep looking at Carter's super cute dimple. “I don’t remember ever being friends with himbo.”

Carter laughed. “Look, if you don’t believe me, just see Veronica’s Pictagram, okay? She’s doing a livestream of us catching grapes with our mouth.”

“What the hell?” You better keep Bea away from these himbos, otherwise she would turn into one. Not that it would be that hard, since Bea had half of a functional braincell on her best day.

“Look, just, just see it for yourself, okay? Bea didn’t kiss Persephone, she caught her off guard. It wasn’t Bea’s fault, Poppy.”

“And why is she not here? Why is she not the one that chases me? Are you her minion now?” It’s not like you ever imagined a scenario where Bea chased you down like in those romance movies you secretly love starring midwestern America's favorite white actress, Reese Witherspoon, no.

“What? No, I’m not yellow, don’t call me a minion. That’s a low insult, Poppy. Even by your standard.”

“Carter, that’s not…”

“Everyone is trying to stop everyone from getting into a fight with Persephone.”

“What?”

“Well, the last time I saw, Chloe is trying to punch Persephone because she kissed Bea out of nowhere, and Ford and Luis are trying to stop her.”

You sighed, if this happened before Bea came into your life, you would probably have said something like she’s my minion, of course she did that. But now, after everything, after all the bad blood between the two of you, it was weird to hear that Chloe actually cared for you. She always has, but you still didn’t understand why would Chloe put up with your bullshit.

“Michael is holding back Zoey from calling her family’s lawyer.”

“What?”

“Zoey said what Persephone did is a sexual assault and she can get Persephone in jail for that.”

You knew that Zoey girl was smart and efficient. A tiny part of yourself was happy for Veronica when they both announced that they’re together now.

“And where’s Bea now? Why is she not here?”

Carter’s forehead crinkled. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“See, she doesn’t care about me! Then why should I fucking care?” You said, yet you actually fucking cared. That was the worst part. “I told Bea that skank is bad news, but what did she make me do? I had to apologize to that bitch! And look what it got me?” You raised your voice, trying to keep your tears at bay and jabbed Carter’s chest. “That bitch kissed my…” Girlfriend, you wanted to say, yet you swallowed the word back and it made your throat hurt.

The two of you haven’t talked about your status, not yet. Both of you had so many issues to deal with, and by the time it’s done, reality slapped you and reminded you that finals were just three months away. You couldn't afford to slack off; not if you wanted a relatively free summer vacation away from your parents' nagging and not-so-hidden disappointment.

“Look, Poppy…” Carter touched your wrist again.

“Don’t touch me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Carter raised his hands in surrender. “Look, just… Hey, Poppy, wait!”

You didn’t need to hear your stupid ex-boyfriend apologize in behalf of your stupid…

Stupid ex-something.

__________________________________________________________

Thankfully, no other idiots were stupid enough to stop you from going to your dorm. You slammed your door hard, ignoring a voice that sounded like your parents’ at the back of your mind, angry at you for your childish behavior. ("Do not slam your door on me, young lady!")

You growled angrily when you realized you were wearing Bea’s new jacket, the jacket you gave to her a few weeks ago. It’s not that you were trying to change her style. Honestly, all those times you were mocking her style was maybe, just a little maybe, because you liked her, just a tiny bit. You'd rather die than to actually say that to her face, though.

Good girls don’t fall in love with another girl, Poppy.

Your parents' words kept echoing inside your head every time your heart beat faster whenever you saw Bea, and you were always listening to your brain instead of your heart. You still felt guilty every time you enjoyed bickering with her and pushing her buttons, because she made you feel alive. It was wrong. It was wrong and yet it was all you can feel whenever you think about her. Before you knew it, Bea had wormed her way into your brain, and now she lived in your head rent-free.

You ripped Bea’s jacket and threw it to the floor after taking off your heels. You looked over to Bea’s red jacket, lying on the floor with the back facing you. Bea still had that mindset where she wouldn’t spend money to pamper herself. “Jacket is a jacket, babe. Why do I need to buy something expensive if I don’t like it?”

So you tried to find something that Bea liked and it wasn't that expensive. Honestly, you were surprised with Taylor’s ability to find stores that sold medium-quality clothes and actually looked good. It was a marvel, your friendship, ugh you want to barf every time you say friendship, with Taylor. You never knew that thank you and please had so much power to control people. Whoever said you can catch more flies with honey was right.

You thought that maybe you should take a really nice and long bath to relax and forget everything that happened. But on another side, you were curious with what Carter said. He might be a himbo, but he’s no liar. So you opened your Pictagram and sure enough, Veronica’s livestream was the first thing you saw. You wanted to click it, but then Veronica might know that you see her livestream, and you didn’t want her to know. So you used your rarely used picta.

 ____________________________________________________________

“Okay, so how are we doing this?” You could hear Veronica’s voice; she was recording Bea, standing between Carter and Luis. Suddenly, Veronica moved the camera, and you saw Chloe talking with Taylor, but you couldn’t really hear what they were saying.

When the camera was focused on Bea again, Michael stood next to Carter, holding a bag of green grapes.

“Simple, Louis will throw grapes at me and I’ll try to catch it with my mouth.” Bea said with a smirk.

“And I’ll catch Michael’s throw.” Carter pointed to himself with both of his thumbs.

You heard Zoey's groan, because how clear her voice was, like Veronica’s, you had a hunch that she probably sat next to her girlfriend. “Babe, that sounds dangerous. Can you do something that doesn’t have any probability with either one of you end up in the hospital?”

Veronica laughed and now she was filming Zoey’s frowning face. “Let them, it’s good for the view.”

“Babe, no!” Zoey pushed Veronica’s shoulder, probably, but it only made Veronica chuckle.

“Come on, are you guys doing this or what?” Chloe yelled from her place, she’s eating that spicy chips your great-aunt bought from Indonesia during her vacation there. Ford was sitting next to her, and she slapped his hand when he tried to take the chips bag from her.

“Michael, didn't Trixie ask you to buy grapes?” Zoey said. “Isn’t that your girlfriend’s grapes?”

Everyone groaned at the same time, while Michael slapped his forehead while looking at the bag. “Oh shit, I forget!”

“Zoey, stop being a voice of reason for once!” Bea yelled.

Veronica’s camera was still focused on Bea and the jocks, and honest to god she stomped her foot like a toddler. You couldn’t believe these people once called you drama queen. “Well, I’m sorry, but without Poppy here, I’m the only one with the brain cell left between you intellectually challenged people!” Zoey huffed. She’s right; you’ve lost count on how many times you had to stop Bea and the jocks from doing something stupid and idiotic.

“Hey, I’m not that stupid! You take that back!” Veronica moved the camera to Chloe right before Chloe threw a chip at Zoey, both of them gasped in surprise. Thankfully, the chip landed at the table.

“Veronica, come on, record us!” Bea whined.

“Are you sure… Oh, Persephone.” Veronica’s voice suddenly went flat.

Your blood boiled when that fucking skank entered Veronica’s camera view. She pushed Luis away from Bea, while Bea waved at her.

“Oh hey, what are you…”

Everything happened all at once.

Persephone pulled Bea by her shirt and kissed her hard. You felt like you want to vomit and your body suddenly felt colder than before, you heard Chloe screamed, “You fucking asshole, let her go!”, and then she lunged forward only for Luis to and Ford to hold her back, while Chloe was kicking and screaming. And then you saw Persephone waved.

And that’s the picture Persephone sent to you and posted it on public for everyone to see. The one that made your world stopped spinning and holding you back from going to find Bea. She could kiss whoever she wanted, you keep telling yourself that, yet your heart shattered with every step you took away from her.

Veronica’s camera suddenly shook the moment Zoey stood up and yelled. “Let her go, or I’ll call the police!”

Michael pushed Persephone away from Bea.

The last thing you saw before the video ended was Bea’s furious face.

 ____________________________________________________________

You sighed deeply and threw your phone to your bed.

You knew it wasn’t Bea’s fault, you knew the moment you saw that bitch's smirk. And yet, you felt like someone burned what's left of your heart with jealousy and anger.

No, it wasn't anger. It was another emotion you haven’t acquainted with, one that is similar to what you always feel every time your parents break their promises to you.

Disappointment.

("We can't go to Seoul this summer, Poppy, Auntie Na-ra is probably busy. Besides, wouldn't it better to spend time with Peter? Help your dad get that tender, will you?"

"But I called Auntie a few days ago and she said she's free anytime!"

"Spending time with Peter is more important, Poppy. You could go see Auntie Na-ra at winter break. This is more important.")

But you didn’t understand why you would feel that way for this kind of situation; it should’ve been anger, consuming you with passion until you burned everything down within your reach.

It should’ve been anger, because you understood anger. It was one of your best friends beside loneliness and fear, you knew it too well and anger understood you like no one ever does.

But instead of the comforting burn of anger, you felt the coldness of disappointment at the bottom of your empty heart.

Before you could analyze this anomaly further, you heard commotion from outside of the Zeta building.  Even before you walk toward your window, you know the source of said commotion.

“Luis, I thought you said your speaker work!” Bea raised her voice.

“Well yeah, that’s before Ford threw my speaker to the freaking wall!”

“Bro, I didn’t know it’s a speaker, okay? It looks like a brick! Why did you even buy that?”

“So you like to randomly throw bricks at walls?”

You folded your arms and watched Luis trying to fix his broken brick speaker from your window. He slapped Ford’s hand away when he tried to touch it.

“No!”

Faintly, you could hear Irene Cara’s voice singing What a Feeling. You tried to keep your face impassive, but it was hard since your body remembered what you usually do while listening to this song. (Trying to copy Jennifer Beal's iconic dance routine and failed, every single time.)

If it wasn’t because Bea spent so much time using your Spotify (premium, thank you so much), you would probably be horrified that she knew your favorite song. You once offered her to pay for the premium, not out of the goodness of your heart, but because she’s kept forgetting to subscribe for premium feature, and you’re so tired hearing the ads every time you actually enjoying the flow of Bea’s playlist. She had, surprisingly, a decent taste in music.

Instead of accepting it like a normal human being, Bea just copied her playlists to your Spotify. Good thing you already tidied up your playlist and you had to make sure that Bea didn’t put a new song there. And also you made sure your private playlist stayed private. You don’t need her to mock you for your anime soundtracks playlist. Bea could say whatever she wanted ("You like a goddamn Naruto song?!") but Flow's GO!!! is an absolute banger and nothing could change your mind, thank you very much.

You almost lost your shit when Bea asked your favorite music genre. Good thing your father trained you well and you could compose yourself and answered diplomatically. You had to bite your tongue when you heard Bea said Hey! Say! Jump! was overrated. The disrespect!

You didn’t talk to her for three days until she begged for your forgiveness. God, your reputation would never recover if people knew that your actual taste was somewhere between a Midwestern white mom and a goddamn middle schooler weeb.

You blinked a few times when you heard the beginning note of Barracuda from Luis’ broken brick speaker. Well, you did accidentally tell Bea that you like this song, who doesn’t anyway? It was a bop.

But you didn’t tell her that your real dream date was actually rollerskating with Barracuda blast in full volume. You didn’t spend 137 dollar and skipped classes for three days straight to watch Birds of Prey nonstop during the first week of its release for nothing. Plus, Margot Robbie beating men with bat and rollerskating? Yes please.

“Yes!” Bea screamed in joy when the speaker was in the right place and actually worked. She looked up to your window, holding the speaker on top of her head. Well, at least she’s not holding her old Xiaomi with its cracked screen, otherwise you would probably—

Never mind, Luis was holding her phone.

You groaned, trying to hide your embarrassment. God, her family is rich now; can’t she spare some of the money to invest in her gadget? You hated it every time you sent her emojis and she was just “Babe, it’s just squares.” Or she just sent a screenshot of your text (she changed your name in her phone, it’s Satan Popsicle now) and it’s rows and rows of squares instead of emojis.

“Poppy, babe, please…”

Before she could say anything else, the sound of Spotify ads suddenly replaced Barracuda, making everyone gasped in surprise.

“What the fuck?!” Bea yelled angrily and looked over to Luis. “Luis, what the hell, man?!”

“Sorry, sorry! I accidentally hit the next button! I didn’t know you didn’t have a premium feature! Who the hell doesn’t have Spotify premium anyway?”

You sighed deeply and rubbed your forehead, already feeling the incoming headache, while everyone was fighting with everyone down there. You saw Bea already hugging Zoey and Zoey was patting Bea’s back in comfort, you couldn’t hear Bea say something, probably she was frustrated because she didn’t use Zoey’s phone or that she blamed herself because she kept forgetting to download the Spotify's premium APK. Probably the latter, since you knew how much she loved that APK. You don't know, you're neither a peasant nor poor enough to go into the world of blackmarket apps. You're too pretty for Android.

You took Chloe’s shoes that you secretly stole from her room. Those shoes were hideous. Getting rid of it was basically a public service. Chloe should've thanked you. Then you threw one of the shoes, but it hit Carter instead of Luis.

“Get lost, all of you.”

“Poppy, what the hell?! How do you even get my shoes?!” Chloe screamed as she took her ugly shoe.

“It's so hideous, Chloe.”

“Oh you’re just jealous because they don’t have your size!”

You gasped and threw the other shoe at Chloe, it only hit her shoulder, damn it. “How dare you! Get lost, all of you, right now!”

“Oh, come on!” Zoey yelled. “It wasn’t Bea’s fault, Satan!”

“I don’t care, new money, get fucking lost!”

Bea held Zoey back and shook her head. “Come on, let’s just go.”

Zoey was torn looking between you and Bea. “Babe, what the fuck. Poppy…”

And then Bea finally looked at you with that soft and understanding smile. You hated it, you once yearned for it.

“It’s okay, come on.” She knew that you need more time, and she’s willing to give it to you because she was that nice.

Veronica was the last one to leave. She raised her eyebrow, but you stood your ground. You saw her type something, but you didn’t really think much of it. Veronica and her phone was one entity anyway.

But then you saw your phone, and it looked like Veronica actually had something to say.

 watch my livestream, youll know the truth

idc bitch

Me & zoey r gonna leave this weekend 2 hang w Jaylen, do whtvr u want with that info

meaning?

idk talk w ur gf or have tons of sex

shes not my gf

lol k

 You huffed loudly and threw your phone to your bed, good thing it didn’t miss or you need to buy a new one, again.

You paced back and forth inside your room; it feels weird without Bea here. Maybe you should go to her room? It wasn't her fault, after all. That fucking whore was to blame. She ruined your life once and while yes, sure, you had your revenge, now she’s back into your life again, and she’s already destroying everything.

You bit your nail, ignoring the sound of your mother from the corner of your mind reminding you not to bite your nails. ("Poppy, I will tie your fingers if I have to. Stop biting your nail, it's crass and disgusting.")

You gritted your teeth and took your phone from your bed and Bea’s old jacket from the floor. If this went wrong, you’re blaming Veronica.

 ____________________________________________________________

“Poppy, what…”

You pushed the door wide open, forcing yourself to get inside Bea’s room. Now you’re standing in front of Bea, unsure what to say. What could you possibly say in this situation, anyway? And you still don’t understand why you felt disappointment. At what, exactly?

When you craned your neck to meet Bea’s eyes, because fuck her for being six foot tall, you finally understood why.

“I hope you slapped that bitch after what she did to you.”

Bea chuckled and shook her head. “No, but I broke her nose.” She raised her eyebrow when you took her hands. “Um, Poppy...”

“Next time, if I told you that you shouldn’t trust a rich kid that isn’t spoiled to the core, listen to me,” you said without breaking eye contact.

Bea sighed. “Okay, I will. I thought it was just your old self talking shit about Persephone.”

“Well, yeah, that too.” You let go of Bea’s hand. “But that skank is basically a bad news.”

“Yeah, whoever thought she would try to get back at you like that?” Bea scratched her neck. “I’m sorry, but can we stop talking about Persephone now? I don’t want to hear her name ever again.”

You nodded.

“Is that all?” Bea raised her eyebrow. “I mean, you can just text me for that.”

You bit your lips. You don’t want to do this, you really don’t. “Okay, you’re right." You tried to fight the urge to say something negative or to backtrack.

Bea’s forehead crinkled. “About what?”

“Kanashimi is better than GO!!!,” you said with a grimace, as if you just swallowed a gallon of poison. Might as well.

Bea laughed loudly. “Finally you admitted that I’m right. Wait, how do you know…”

You never said Bea, you’re so fucking wrong and uncultured, GO!!! is the ultimate opening every time Bea said Kanashimi was way better than GO!!!, you only said that I’m too pretty to heard those songs, but I know you’re wrong.

You ignored her questioning look and climbed into her bed. “I’m using my Netflix’s account since I’m sure you don’t even have a Netflix account. I don’t understand why you’re so adamant to watch from Fmovies. You'd better pay for Netflix than for Nord.” Kids these days with their Netflix and shady streaming sites, they would never understand the feeling reading some batshit subtitle translation or watching thirty parts of videos on YouTube.

“What?” Bea was still standing in the middle of her room like an idiot.

“Well? Do you want to watch Naruto or not?” You huffed, already feeling your cheeks getting warmer. You never showed this side of you to anyone else, and now here you are, baring your soul in front of your ex-nemesis. Yes, you counted opening up a bit about your weeaboo side as baring your soul.

Bea laughed, honest to god laughed out loud while bending over and hands on her knees like you just said one of the greatest jokes in the universe.

You growled lowly in your throat and then you climbed down from her bed. “Fine, spend your weekend on your own then, I don’t care. I have a lot of reading to do anyway.” By reading, you mean there was a new chapter of Gokushufudou that just came out yesterday, but she didn't need to know that.

But Bea stopped you when you’re walking past her; she touched your wrist gently. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.”

“You did.”

Bea laughed again, that stupid idiot. “Okay, yes, I am. But it’s because you keep saying ‘I’m too pretty to watch anime’ but you know way too much about it.” You just grumbled when Bea said that while doing an impression of you. It’s bad. You were way cuter when you were being haughty.

Before you could say anything, Bea bent down and kissed your forehead. You felt your forehead burned pleasantly from the gentle touch of her lips. “And of course I would love to watch Naruto with you.” She grinned. “After all, I taught you the power of friendship, believe it.”

“I hate you.”

“I know, I hate you too, Miss ‘I’m-too-pretty-for-anime’,” Bea said adoringly. “But we’re going to skip Shippuden, right?”

“Bitch, that’s the best part of Naruto.”

Bea rolled her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You have a bad taste.”

“No, I have a good taste.” You kissed her lips tenderly. “Because I chose you,” you whispered softly.

#poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair #queen b #makepoppyali2020 #playchoices #choices #my fics

[chibistarlyte]

one day

He's okay, Katsuki has to remind himself again, almost afraid that Todoroki might slip right through his calloused fingers if he doesn't hold on tight enough. 

ayyy here’s a follow-up to my previous todobaku fic some days, this time from bakugou’s pov as he deals with the aftermath of todoroki’s depressive episode.

thank you to kat @sunshineijirou​ for the beta, as always! <3 ilysm!

fic can be read below the cut or here on ao3! you can also find a masterlist of all my bnha fics here!

.

If someone had told Katsuki, when he woke up this morning, that by this afternoon he’d be spooning with his secret crush after said secret crush jumped down to his balcony in some kind of depressive fit…

Suffice to say that Katsuki would have never believed it, even if his life depended on it.

Yet here he is, arms wrapped around Todoroki Shouto’s waist and his face buried in the back of his neck as the other boy sleeps peacefully in his bed. Or, Katsuki assumes peacefully, judging by the light snores and soft, lax features of Todoroki’s face.

Well, Katsuki thinks as he breathes a warm sigh against the other boy’s still frigid skin, at least Todoroki is safe now. It would be an outright lie to say that Katsuki hasn’t been worried about Todoroki all goddamn day, ever since he saw the other boy sitting precariously on the edge of his balcony and uttering uncharacteristic existential thoughts earlier that morning. 

Just a little bit ago, when Todoroki had jumped...Katsuki’s heart had all but stopped in his chest.

Unconsciously, Katsuki tightens his grip around Todoroki and digs his nose deeper into the soft skin at the nape of Todoroki’s neck, breathing in his scent. He’s okay. He’s okay.

Katsuki jolts as he hears a loud buzzing noise, his palms sweaty and sparking in his alarm. He quickly retracts his arms from around Todoroki, afraid of burning the other boy with his Quirk. Katsuki belatedly realizes the sound is his phone vibrating on top of the headboard. Wiping his sweaty hands on his shirt as he sits up, he reaches for his phone and unlocks it with a click. A notification bubble at the bottom of the screen tells him the class 1-A group chat is active with messages right now.

Midoriya: hey guys has anyone seen todoroki-kun since class was over? he left before i could catch up with him and he hasn’t answered any of my texts and when i went to his room to check on him he didn’t answer… Uraraka: i haven’t seen him since our rescue exercise, deku-kun. are you sure he came back to the dorms? Midoriya: i mean i’m not positive but where else would he go? Iida: Todoroki-kun has been acting strangely all day...perhaps he heeded our advice and sought out Recovery Girl? Kaminari: nah bruh, i was at rg’s office after class for my broken wrist, i didn’t see him there Tokoyami: I can have Dark Shadow scope out the area and look for Todoroki, if needed. Yaoyorozu: I am worried about Todoroki-san. He wasn’t acting like himself today, and I fear to think what would happen if he’s alone right now. Jirou: which room is his???? i can listen in and see if hes there Kirishima: he’s on the fifth floor, right above bakugou’s room

Katsuki sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Great, now Todoroki has the entire class worried after him. They’d send out a goddamn search party if Katsuki doesn’t say something.

So he starts typing.

Bakugou: relax u damn extras, icyhot’s with me

There’s a short pause in the chat as several people begin typing and soon enough the messages flood right in.

Midoriya: what???? todoroki-kun is with you, kacchan?! Jirou: shit, dude, he must be fucked in the head to go hang out with explody Kirishima: is he ok?? are u guys in ur room bakubro? Mina: DID U KIDNAP THE POOR LAD, BAKUGOU?!? Uraraka: can we come see him?

Katsuki lets out a frustrated sigh and thumbs back a response.

Bakugou: if any of you assholes even think about coming and pounding on my door, i’ll break ur fuckin fingers. halfie’s asleep so you chucklefucks need to keep quiet

As if to make sure the group chat hadn’t somehow awoken Todoroki from his slumber, Katsuki looks away from his phone to the sleeping boy next to him. Not much has changed in the last few minutes, save for a slight twitching of Todoroki’s nostril and the fingers of his right hand slightly curling and unfurling.

When his phone pings with another message, Katsuki sees that it’s from Kirishima. He opens their text messages.

Kirishima: hey bakubro is everything ok?? i mean not just with todoroki but with u too? Bakugou: i’m fine, shitty hair. not sure about him, tho Bakugou: he was pretty messed up when i brought him in Kirishima: what happened? Bakugou: the crazy fucker jumped from his balcony down to mine like an idiot, coulda hurt himself Kirishima: … Kirishima: ...was he trying to Kirishima: u kno…

Katsuki doesn’t want to think about the reasons behind Todoroki’s actions, behind the other boy’s strange and despondent behavior all day. He knows Todoroki’s got family issues, with what he’d overheard at the sports festival in their first year. Then, after having dinner at the Todoroki household and interning with Endeavor all those months ago, Katsuki has been able to put the pieces together well enough. 

He scoots down the bed until he’s lying down again, his arm against Todoroki’s back as he holds his phone up to text with Kirishima.

Bakugou: idk, he hasn’t told me anything, just basically been a zombie the whole fuckin time. he was so cold and he wasn’t usin his quirk to warm up, bastard’s lucky he didn’t get hypothermia or some shit Kirishima: do u need anything? Bakugou: i told u, i’m fine Kirishima: ok...but srsly, i’m here for u if u need to talk...or if i can bring you anything, yeah? Bakugou: yeah, yeah, i get it hair for brains Bakugou: ...thanks Kirishima: i gotchu bro

Katsuki sets his phone on silent before locking it and placing it up on his headboard again. He rolls onto his side, chest against Todoroki’s back once again, and reaches around to touch the back of his hand to the other boy’s forehead. It still feels colder than it probably should, but warmer than before, which Katsuki counts as progress. 

He settles his arms around Todoroki’s waist again and scoots closer until they’re flush against each other. Katsuki tangles his legs with Todoroki’s to help warm them up—Todoroki’s bare ankles feel cold against Katsuki’s own heated skin.

He's okay, Katsuki has to remind himself again, almost afraid that Todoroki might slip right through his calloused fingers if he doesn't hold on tight enough. 

"You really fuckin' scared me there for sec, half-n-half," Katsuki murmurs against the back of Todoroki’s neck, feeling the moisture of his own breath bouncing back at him from their close proximity. "The hell did you think you were doing?" he asks the air, knowing full well that Todoroki is dead asleep and can't hear a word Katsuki is saying. 

And thank fuck for that, because Katsuki can't seem to shut himself up and continues speaking.

"Don't you realize how many people care about your stupid ass? How important you are to everyone? Fucking Deku, Round Face, Four-Eyes, Yaomomo...me…"

Katsuki clenches his jaw to stop his mouth from betraying him any further. He has no idea what's compelling him to such honesty. Perhaps it's because he knows Todoroki can't hear him, knows that he won't have to suffer any unfortunate consequences of having his feelings laid bare in front of him. 

Just...seeing Todoroki fly through the air, even if it was only for a few seconds...Katsuki could have forever lost the chance to say all the things he wishes he were brave enough to admit. 

He sighs through his nose, his teeth gritting painfully against each other as he tightens his jaw even more. Fucking coward, he chastises himself.

"Bakugou?"

Katsuki's heart stills in his chest as Todoroki’s confused, sleep-laden voice drifts into his senses. Todoroki stiffens in his grip, muscles tense and taut, almost as if he's afraid of something. Unconsciously, Katsuki's arms tighten around the other boy’s waist and he finds his hands pressing almost protectively against Todoroki’s abdomen.

"I'm here," he answers belatedly, nuzzling his nose against Todoroki’s skin—still too cold for his liking, but ever so slowly getting warmer.

Todoroki exhales, going boneless in Katsuki's arms. There's a minute shift of his head as he digs his cheek into the pillow. "I...didn't dream it, then…" he says a bit absently, sounding so, so tired.

"Dream what?" Katsuki asks softly, his fingers tracing odd shapes on Todoroki’s skin.

"That I was here...with you," Todoroki clarifies, letting out another exhale that made him deflate like a balloon with too many leaks.

Katsuki is unable to keep from snorting. "Couldn't very well let you leave after you just—" He stops himself from finishing that thought, because the idea that Todoroki really might have been trying to off himself was too much for Katsuki to handle. "Look, you could barely walk and were hardly coherent enough to make it back to your room. I couldn't let you leave and end up hurting yourself or some shit."

Todoroki lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. 

"Don't you fucking laugh at me, you bastard," Katsuki says without any real threat. "Sorry for fucking caring about your stupid ass."

It's then that Todoroki starts to pull away, curling in on himself. He untangles his legs from Katsuki's and worms his way out of Katsuki's arms until he’s at the edge of the bed, the two of them no longer touching. 

Katsuki's heart sinks into his stomach. Damn it, there goes his stupid mouth ruining everything again.

"You shouldn't care about me," Todoroki says, sounding miles away. 

"Why the fuck not?" Katsuki bites back, not liking where this conversation has turned. 

"I'm not worth it," Todoroki repeats his words from earlier, and they still feel like a knife stabbing right through Katsuki's chest. 

He doesn't understand why someone like Todoroki could ever think he's worthless.

It makes him...angry.

"What the fuck is it gonna take for you to realize that you are worth it?" Katsuki says in a harsh whisper, trying to reign in his rage. He knows if he explodes now, he might chase Todoroki off and cause him to do...something…

Todoroki doesn't answer.

Against his better judgment, Katsuki reaches for Todoroki’s back. His fingers barely graze the black t-shirt he's wearing before he notices a significant drop in temperature. Frost begins crawling up the shell of Todoroki’s ear.

"No, no, stop that," Katsuki says as he frantically scoots closer. He envelops Todoroki in his arms once again, willing his own body heat into the other boy to cancel out the freezing power of his Quirk. 

To Katsuki's surprise, Todoroki shifts and rolls over so that they're face to face. Tears snake sideways down Todoroki’s face and melt into the pillowcase. Katsuki feels incredibly guilty for still finding Todoroki so beautiful.

Katsuki's hands find the small of Todoroki’s back, his fingers tangling in the cotton of his t-shirt. 

"I'm sorry," Todoroki chokes out, squirming and wiggling until his face is hidden against Katsuki’s chest. 

"Nothin' to be sorry for, icyhot. We all got shit to deal with," Katsuki mutters into Todoroki’s hair, wanting to lay a kiss along the part of red and white. But he refrains.

Todoroki just nods. Katsuki can feel his tears soak into his shirt.

They stay like that for what could have been moments or hours, for all Katsuki knows. When he hears Todoroki’s breathing even out again, and notices a faint warmth pulsating through the air, Katsuki sighs in relief.

It's amazing how one day can change so many things, he muses. Katsuki's world has been tilted off its axis in the span of mere hours, making him reevaluate almost everything he's come to learn about himself, about Todoroki. He knows, without a doubt, that he cares for the idiot in his arms. His moment of clarity had come the second Todoroki had let go of the railing.

Katsuki swears to himself that he'll make Todoroki realize how much he matters to everyone. And, maybe one day, how much he matters to Katsuki.

#todobaku #todobaku fic #tdbk #tdbk fic #bakutodo #bakutodo fic #bnha #bnha fic #my writing

[writingsoftheunderworld]

Ok I’m so happy someone taking requests. It’s take place season two where Bonnie and Damon hate each other but there daughter comes from the future to help them fight Klaus but no one knows she’s there daughter. Thank you 😊

Hey! So glad too! I’m always up for some Bamon so it’s come at just the right time. Ok, so I’ve definitely done as requested, but I’m really enjoying this and would love to maybe turn it multi-chaptered so if there’s demand I might add onto this story, it was soo much fun. 

Anyways, @barkingbullfrog here you go! Hope you enjoy. Sadly the Bamon is not too romanc-y what with the setting though I went with later season two so they are at least reluctantly working together.

Damon propped his feet up on the arm of the loveseat he found himself laying down on, an air of nonchalance mere facade to the turmoil he was feeling inside. Elena and Stefan sat opposite him, poetic really, he thought, talking about what there was to do now that uncle John decided to fuck up again. He couldn’t understand how some people could be this stupid. Why would anyone trust Isobel was beyond him, the bitch had tricked him into turning her, had tricked Elena just a few months ago, had fucked up Alaric good and proper and had been working with Katherine. He listened to Stefan try to propose they use their house as a safe-house and Elena shoot it down immediately. Figures. Was there no one around who used their brain? 

There’s Bonnie, his mind helpfully supplied as he heard Elena wrack up another complaint. He answered this one, thoughts of the little witch in his head. He didn’t like having to revisit one of his greatest failures. Because he knows allowing Emily Bennett to burn could only be catalogued as nothing other than failure. And now Bonnie wanted to absorb all that power. Hence, she was definitely the intelligent one here. More power was exactly what they needed, not drama with bio-mom from hell. 

“To the Lockwood luncheon.” he heard Elena finish her sentence, followed closely by his brother’s knight in armour agreement.

“Not me, I’ve witch stuff to attend to with Bonnie” he quipped, watching Elena’s warm gaze shifting to him again. He also paid enough attention to Katherine lurking about just then. He knew she’d been listening to the whole conversation, she wasn’t subtle about it, which only served to annoy and baffle him. Why wasn’t Mistress of Bitchdom pretending to hide anymore? Oh well, question for another day perhaps, bigger fish to fry.

“Does that mean you’re taking her to the -” he shushed Elena before she could give them away, a stray thought of Bonnie would’ve known not to say anything worming its way into his mind, and he almost scoffed at himself. Since when was the witch at the front of his thoughts? But before he could dwell on that particular annoyance, Katherine saunters her way over and he hears footsteps outside in the walkway. He’s about to answer the she-demon when the front door’s lock turns and the door swings open suddenly. He’s up on his feet and with his hand around the uninvited visitor’s neck before Stefan even has the chance to get up and plant himself in front of Elena. Katherine of course does nothing, simply turns to stare at him and the young woman he’s holding against the wall, a mild shock flitting over her features almost too quick to see. He doesn’t get more than a few seconds before he finds himself doubled over in sudden pain, clutching his head as stars burst behind his eyelids. He almost thinks he’s misstepped and Bonnie herself was standing there, the wave of magic bringing him to his knees and the smell of blood so very similar to hers. Bennett blood for sure.

“Ack!” He cries out and waits for the ringing in his ears to subside, then he casts a customary glance around at his brother and his ex, surprised to see Katherine herself on her knees, still in apparently a lot of pain. Whoever the Bennett witch that just stepped inside their house like she owned it was, she didn’t stop until Katherine was unconscious on the ground.

“Sorry for the aggression, but I don’t respond to threats well and I really don’t like her.” a soft, but confident voice has Damon turning back to inspect the newcomer. She’s petite, in all senses of the word with her barely up to his shoulders height and lithe physique, but her own shoulders are squared and there’s an air of knowing all around her. He almost sees the Bennett witch they’re all too familiar with in her stead again. It’s disconcerting to say the least, especially with the very bright, and very blue, eyes staring at him with a small smirk. She’s cocky too, he realizes, and she’s certainly powerful enough to back it up if Katherine’s unconscious form on the ground like a sack of potatoes is anything to go by.

“And who exactly are you?” he readies himself for another aneurysm as he speaks, but to his surprise, her whole demeanor shifts suddenly upon looking back at him, if he didn’t know better he’d say she’s just… seen her favourite person. But it snaps back in place so quick he blinks to make sure he didn’t imagine it all.

“I’m Sheila-Rose Bennett.” She begins and he nods slowly, he’d already figured she’d be a Bennett, but how was it possible he didn’t know of her he couldn’t explain, it was strange. He might’ve not known how Lucy looked like when she showed up at the Masquerade a few weeks back, but he had remembered her father and her being born. He happened to have been near the hospital at the time, like he tried to be whenever a new Bennett was born. Hell, he still remembered Rudy, Bonnie’s dad, pacing in the small hospital hallway with Sheila there telling him to sit down and not wear the floor out when Abby was giving birth. He made good on his promises he thought, unlike Emily. “I’m here to help you with Klaus.” she continued.

He straightened out, pushing to his feet as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “And what exactly do you know of Klaus?” And how don’t I know you? His mind screamed at him. 

“I’ve had some … experience dealing with him” there was a smile on her lips, wry, as though laughing at an inside joke that only she was in on. The witch was odd.

“Ok, Sheila-Rose-” he began, but was cut off just as fast.

“It’s just Rose, only mom calls me Sheila-Rose, and that’s usually when I’m in trouble.” another one of those wry smiles. It was slowly making him lose his mind. There was something so very familiar to her that was frustrating him beyond reason.

“Sure, whatever. What can you tell us about Klaus?” He noted that Elena was shifting her weight from on foot to the other, impatient, when he remembered she needed to go. “Brother, why don’t you and Elena get to that luncheon, I’ve got Baby Blues here covered. Plus our very own Wicked Witch of the East is bound to show up in, oh, five minutes or so? I’ve got this.” Stefan and he shared a quick look and then baby brother was walking past him and the new Bennett, briefly breaking their staring contest, to pick up his coat and then he and Elena were out the door and driving away. Damon turned and poured himself some bourbon, taking a sip and letting it sooth the nagging pounding that always remained behind after that particular witch’s spell. The witch came fully inside the house now, bypassing Katherine’s body and laying herself in the same loveseat he’d previously occupied, swinging her legs up and over the arm of it, and lacing her fingers around her knees to keep herself upright, looking at him expectedly.

“Should I wait for … whoever you said was joining? Or should I just spill the beans right now?” she certainly had attitude, he thought, matching his tone to a T and he wasn’t sure whether he was impressed or annoyed by it.

“How do I not know you?” he couldn’t let that question go, and he also didn’t want Bonnie to know just how much he cared about her bloodline. She might actually burn him again if she did, he had a feeling. 

“You don’t know every one of us, we scattered too much to keep track, so let’s not poke through generations. I’m here for something else, not the past.” she smiled again, that same damn smile that was slowly making his skin itch. There was something there, she knew something she was hiding, something that was about him or regarded him at least. It was driving him insane, and still she wasn’t saying anything.

“Fine, keep your secrets. How old are you anyways, Witch-y?”

“I just turned 19. Why does it matter?” defensive. Fun! He can poke at that. 

“Kinda on the young side to be dealing with Big Bad Klaus, aren’t you?” he began and saw her wince. Double fun, he could really dig here. “How come mommy and daddy let you come here? Or do they not know?” he saw her shift in her seat and knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “Oh, so they don’t know then?”

“Not any of your business old man. I’m here and I’ve got info you guys will want, trust me on that.” 

“Old man? One, don’t nickname, two, so you’ve said but I’m not convinced. See, if you’re 19 then how come you know anything about Klaus?” 

“I know about him from my parents, they’ve fought him before. But haven’t been able to stop him. But they didn’t have the knowledge they do now, I have that and then some and I have you trying to fight him. I can help, that I promise.” She certainly was convincing, but Damon hadn’t survived so long and gone through the shit he had to just believe any nutso that strolled into his house. Just as he was about to answer her, Bonnie burst through the front door, Jeremy a few steps behind her, a flurry of righteous annoyance around her. He barely listened to her begin to berate him being late when he saw her gaze turning to their guest. 

Speaking of, the littlest witch suddenly swung her feet back to the floor, sitting up properly and a grin growing on her lips as she stood up, hand outstretched and introduced herself as though to her celebrity crush. God, why was everyone coo-coo in this town?

“Sheila-Rose Bennett! Very nice to meet you, know a lot about you, Bonnie.” She rushed through suddenly. To say that Bonnie was overwhelmed was an understatement. So he did the nice thing for once and patted the place next to him on the couch for Bonnie to take a seat. She did so in shock and even took a sip of his bourbon when he extended it to her, only to chock and sputter once the taste hit her. Small mercies seemed to exist after all, he figured when she didn’t do so much as glare at him, though with how she kept staring at the other Bennett he figured it had less to do with him and more to do with her.

“Now now, Rosie-Posie, let’s not overload Bon-bon here.” He was smirking as he spoke, looking from Bonnie to the newcomer when confusion hit him again at the genuine shock and delight on her face seemingly at his words. He was dying to know what could he have possibly said to warrant that look, but before he could, the woman began speaking in earnest. She hadn’t been lying, he realised quickly. She definitely had information they needed and power they could use, if Katherine’s still unconscious form on the ground was anything to go by.

Quick note, my head-canons about this are that:

- Sheila-Rose went behind her parents backs cuz she just wanted to help since she’s heard all about how Klaus hurt them, though she and Hope happen to get along pretty well and even Klaus and Bonnie and Damon are alright now. 

- Her dad calls her Rosie Posie. 

- While I see her as a daddy’s girl, she adores her mom with everything in her, like aspired to be her 

- The wry smile is her thinking about the future and amusing herself with the references. like the “dealt with klaus” thing or the “not here for the past” being very ironic to say the least.

#barkingbullfrog #bamon #bonnie/damon #Damon x Bonnie #Bonnie x Damon #ask #my asks #My writing #request #timetravel #time travel #future daughter #tvd 2x17 #tvd #vampire diaries #tvd fic #tvd drabble #bamon fic