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knox-knocks · 4 years

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This is my gift to @yeahboiislay / @bhenchod for the @aftgexchange ! I really hope you enjoy, i had so much fun with the prompts you gave!

Having the evening to themselves, Matt and Neil plan an awesome Boys' Night that consists of movies, a surplus amount of food, and maybe a bit too much alcohol. Everything starts of great, but when they wake up the next morning with no memories, no money, and no eyebrows, they try to retrace their steps to figure out what the hell happened last night and run into a few problems.

~ ~

“Neeeeeeeiiiiiiil," Matt sings as he sails through the door to the suite, arms laden with a mountain of food. He grins at Neil and drops the snacks – seven different boxes of candy, two large bags of M&Ms, a six pack of soda, a bowl of popcorn, and a rather large bottle of rum – onto the table where they skitter to the sides and would have fallen if Neil hadn’t caught them in time. “Are you ready?”

Neil bounces around his friend, cradling one of the bags of M&Ms to his chest. He raises it above his head in triumphant glory at not letting it fall to the floor and meets Matt’s full-wattage smile with one of his own. Despite his hesitation at the amount of junk food and alcohol Matt had proposed for tonight, he could feel a current of excitement coursing through him. “I’m ready,” he declares.

“Do you mind?”

Neil’s attention is pulled to the couch, where an irate Aaron is stationed. He looks a little rumbled with his glasses askew on his nose and at least three different textbooks spread out on the coffee table in front of him. He frowns at the pair. “Not that I care, but what are you two yahoos up to anyway?”

“Boys’ night!” Matt and Neil answer in unison. They share an uncoordinated fist bump, difficult because Matt is a foot taller and Neil is still holding the bag of M&Ms over his head.

“Dan and the girls are doing their own thing and Nicky has a skype date with Erik,” Matt explains.

“And Andrew and Kevin are in Michigan trying to recruit more players for next year,” Neil adds, eyeing the precariously leaning tower of food behind Matt.

“You can join us if you’d like,” Matt says before Neil can protest. Neil shoots him a look just as the pile of snacks topples over and Matt dives for it, successfully avoiding Neil’s scornful expression.

“No thanks,” Aaron says. He regards the snacks and Matt trying to push them back into order with more than a little disdain. “I’ll just go to Katelyn’s. Don’t make too much of a mess, and have fun I guess.”

The bottle of rum rolls past Neil’s feet in a haphazard escape, and Matt darts after it on his hands and knees.

“We’re just gonna watch some movies and eat junk food,” Neil says. “How big of a mess can we make?”

_ _

Neil wakes some indeterminable time later with the worst headache he’s ever had in his entire life. His first thought as he comes slowly back to awareness is

ow, fuck

, and the second is

why is the ceiling so close to my face?

He blinks blearily at the too-close ceiling and wills the pain throbbing in his temples to go away. When his vision clears and Neil feels like he can move without keeling over, he realizes that’s he’s not staring at the ceiling at all, but at the underside of the coffee table in Matt’s suite.

Neil groans, clutching his head, and wiggles out from under the table. One of his shoes is missing, but it’s probably the least of Neil’s problems, because the room is an utter disaster.

It looks like a warzone, popcorn strewn across the room and smashed into the carpet, and a section near the television has a suspicious and atrociously orange stain that is half-heartedly covered by a couch cushion that does not belong to anyone Neil knows. Neil gapes at the carnage for one, stunned second and fumbles for the TV remote to turn it off, powering it down in the middle of an informercial about a magic towel that can clean any mess that inexplicably seems to be playing on repeat.

Silence rings in Neil’s ears, blotted out only by the blood rushing to his head. He briefly wonders what the hell happened last night, but trying to think back makes his head hurt worse, so he decides to go seek out Matt. Neil doubts Matt is in any better shape that Neil is, but maybe he remembers a bit of what they did to get in this situation.

The person he finds passed out in the kitchen is not Matt at all. For one, they are about six inches too short and their skin is three shades too pale. Secondly, they are dressed in nothing but shorts and the grinning head of Palmetto’s mascot, Foxy Roxy. Neil blinks in surprise at the half-naked stranger slumped on the floor before making sure they’re still breathing. When Neil is satisfied that he didn’t accidentally stumble across a body, he continues his search for Matt.

Neil finds him face-down on the floor behind the couch, snoring soundly and cradling a bottle of vodka, dyed an electric shade of orange. That, Neil supposes, would explain the stain by the TV. At least Matt is mostly dressed.

“Matt,” Neil hisses and nudges him lightly in the ribs. When he doesn’t stir, he kicks him a little harder. “Wake up,”

“Allison leave those gnomes alone,” Matt mutters incoherently. He turns over in his sleep and the vodka rolls away from him. Arms now empty, Matt wraps his arms around himself and hugs his chest. Neil isn’t paying attention to any of that though, his eyes are glued to Matt’s face, still slack with sleep.

Mostly, he looks normal. Except he doesn’t have any eyebrows, and what looks to be a single fake mustache from Party City is clinging for dear life where his left brow should be.

Neil presses a hand to his mouth, not sure whether the look on his face is one of horror and shock, or of laughter. He kicks Matt again.

“Ow, fuck,” Matt groans and opens his eyes. He says nothing at first, squinting up at Neil with a look that says he has the worst hangover ever. Then his eyes widen and his mouth falls open into a comical little o.

“Neil,” he says, hushed. “Your face.”

Neil’s hands fly to his face, scared of what he might find, but instead of the eyebrow’s he expects, his fingers meet smooth, freshly shaved skin.

“No,” he whispers.

Matt cackles, still staring at the unfortunate lack of facial hair on Neil’s face.

“Don’t laugh,” gripes Neil, covering the place where his eyebrows used to be with his hands. “Yours are gone too.”

The humor drains out of Matt’s face and he gasps, clutching his forehead. His clumsy hands dislodge the fake mustache and he watches it flutter to the floor with something like horror on his face. “No,” he mourns, picking it up and cradling it in his hands.

“What the hell happened?” Neil demands.

Matt is still staring at the faux-facial hair, mouth opening and closing in shock. Neil grabs his face and forces him to focus. “Matty,” he says, “we’re in deep shit.”

“The last thing I remember is walking to the liquor store for more alcohol,” Matt says, coming back to his senses. “This was before…” Matt spots the guy passed out in the kitchen. His eyebrows would have furrowed in confusion if he still had any. “That,” he says. “But after we had a popcorn fight.”

“I don’t remember any of that,” Neil admits. “Hang on, where’s my phone?”

“Why?” Matt asks. “You never use your phone.”

“Unless I’m drunk.” Neil ducks his head under the couch, looking for anything that looks vaguely like his outdated cellphone. He only finds more popcorn. He gives up his search when he swipes his hand along the kitchen counter and it comes away sticky.

“Maybe you left it outside?” Matt suggests. “I think you tried to call Andrew right before we came back in.”

“Great,” Neil says. He makes for the door, but Matt’s arm shooting out in front of him stop him in his tracks.

“We can’t go out like this,” he says, motioning to his face. He casts his gaze around the destruction in the room and his eyes light up when they fall on the coffee table. He lunges, knocking various bottles of soda and a sock away in his haste to get whatever it is he’s scrounging for.

He holds it up for Neil to inspect. It’s the remaining fake mustaches, tucked safely inside a plastic packet that is indeed from Party City.

“This could work?” he says. He glances from the mustaches to Neil, considering. He hold it up to Neil’s face. “I think this might actually be your shade.”

“I’m not putting that on my face,” Neil says, nonplussed and at awe that Matt would suggest such a thing.

“Go and be eyebrow-less then,” Matt sniffs. “Release your inhibitions.”

Scowling, Neil snatches the mustaches from his hands and fishes out them out. He shakes them out on to his hand. Two fall out, only enough for one.

There’s a beat of silence. Matt and Neil look at each other, and then at the fake mustaches.

“You can – ” Neil starts but Matt interrupts.

“No, no. You take them, buddy,” he says tearfully. He takes the mustaches from Neil and peels the paper off the sticky backing and carefully presses each one into their proper places.

They stare at each other for a long moment; Matt, eyebrow-less. Neil, clinging onto the last vestiges of his dignity. Matt is the one to break the silence.

“Neil,” he says, “you’re going to need to put your shoes on.”

After Neil locates his other shoe and he and Matt leave to find Neil’s phone, their search is interrupted by a large man angrily shouting in their direction. He storms over, red-faced and spitting out a stream of explicatives that would have any southerner clutching their pearls.

“Is he talking to us?” Matt asks. He’s still quite hungover; a pair of sunglasses shades his eyes from the afternoon sun and he wipes away the damp sheen of sweat clinging to his forehead with the back of his hand.

Neil, equally as hungover, squints at the man approaching. Upon further inspection, Neil recognizes him as the pitcher from Palmetto’s baseball team, Ricky Mercado. As far as Neil knows, they have never interacted.

“Nah,” he says. “He must be after someone else.”

“Neil Josten!” Ricky screams and too late Neil notices that he and Matt are the only other people in sight.

“Oh shit,” Neil says.

“What did you do?” Matt whispers, voice pitched furiously low.

“You better watch it, Josten,” Ricky says, close enough that Neil can see how truly mad he is. He reminds Neil of a bull, nostrils flaring, eyes wide enough to see the ring of white around the iris. Ready to charge. “I’ll fuck you up.”

Neil’s eyes narrow. Ricky is a lot taller than Neil and sure, he’s muscular, but Neil has survived all attempts on his life thus far in his twenty-year old life and he is not about to get taken out by some dumb baseball player who isn’t good enough to play the most important sport in the world, exy.

Slowed by the hangover, his brain doesn’t catch up to his mouth before he shoots back, “I’d like to see you try.”

Ricky seethes, and for a moment he does look like he’s about to charge. Neil braces himself but Matt scoops him up and throws him over his shoulder before Ricky can take even a step closer.

“No he would not!” says Matt over his shoulder as he books it back to the safety of Fox Tower.

Or, it would be safety if Ricky Mercado wasn’t a baseball player, and therefore didn’t have access to the building Matt was currently seeking for refuge. He stayed on their tail, shouting, gesticulating wildly, and occasionally throwing in some uncreative death threats. Neil has heard better and more convincing.

Actually, Neil thought Ricky might be acting out whatever Neil had done to piss him off, but Neil was either too hungover or Ricky too bad an actor for him to really understand what had happened.

They make it back in the building and up the stairs still intact, and soon enough they return to Matt’s suite. The mess is still there, the half-dressed mascot is not, and a new figure stands in the kitchen, surveying the damage. There’s a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and he looks rumpled in the way that spending a few hours on a plane would do to a person. He turns around, face unimpressed and arms folded across his chest.

“Andrew,” Neil says the same moment Matt sags with relief and whispers, “thank God.”

“Boyd,” Andrew acknowledges him. “Why are you carrying Neil over your shoulder?”

“Your boyfriend.” Matt jostles Neil as he says this and Neil wiggles until Matt lets him down. “Almost got us killed. He pissed off one of the baseball players and now he’s hunting us down. Please save us.”

As if on cue, there’s a loud banging on the door and Neil thanks whatever deity above that Matt had thought to lock the door. The person on the other side yells in frustration and begins to slam against the door. Neil is starting to think Andrew had a point when he said Neil has a way of making people want to kill him.

“Hmm,” Andrew says noncommittally and looks around Matt to where Neil is attempting to hide behind his large body, covering his forehead so Andrew doesn’t see the fake eyebrows. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a familiar gray cell phone.

“Oh!” Matt exclaims. “Where did you find it?”

“Nicky. He said he confiscated it last night,” Andrew says, eyes never straying from Neil’s face.

“We got a little drunk last night,” Neil admits, inching toward the door. He thinks death by angry baseball player is preferable to Andrew seeing what he had done to his face.

“That explains these,” says Andrew. He tossed the phone to Neil, opened up to their thread of messages.

It starts off normal, but at around midnight, Neil sent a video of himself dancing on the coffee table while someone off-screen throws popcorn at him. It’s far from what Neil thinks a person drunkenly dancing on the table should look like. The lighting is bad and so is Neil’s dancing, arms thrown in every which way and hips doing a little too much. It appears he’s attempting the macarena with a few added steps.

The second message is from an hour later and reads, would yoi still loveme if I ddni’t have eyebrows :(

So the jig is up.

Neil cringes and drops his hands. Andrew, privileged to have eyebrows fully intact, raises them at the sight of the ginger mustaches stuck to Neil’s face, and reaches up to peel them off. Neil thinks he sees a flash of amusement in his eyes before Andrew lets the mustaches drop to the floor. Neil is too embarrassed to say anything, but Andrew doesn’t notice. He looks around the room before grabbing a disemboweled lamp and weighing it in his hand.

“Get this mess cleaned up,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

Then he leaves, and Matt and Neil stare after him.

“Is he going to – ” Matt starts but Neil interrupts.

“Not important,” he says, waving his hand to get Matt’s attention. “We need trash bags and a vacuum cleaner.”

“And the will of God,” Matt nods as he begins to pick up cans and boxes of candy from the floor.

It takes an hour, three large black trash bags, and some duct tape to get the mess cleaned up. By now Andrew has returned, and is idly watching them from his perch on the arm of the couch. He offers no help, instead he slowly and methodically eats through a pint of ice cream, digging out the chunks of chocolate to eat first. When asked, he does not explain what he did with the lamp.

“You missed a spot,” he says and points to the large orange stain on the carpet with his spoon.

Matt pushes the entertainment center three feet to the right, where it covers the majority of the orange carpet. “No we didn’t,” he replies.

When they’re finished, Matt collapses at the kitchen table over a bowl of cereal and begins to snore. Neil wanders over to Andrew, head ducked to his chest and hood pulled over his eyes. Andrew pulls the hood down, eyes trailing up to the empty spaces where Neil’s eyebrows had been just last night.

“Do you think I can draw them on?” Neil asks. He’s seen Allison touch up her eyebrows with a brow pencil, so he should be able to draw in what he was missing, right?

Andrew huffs and curls his fingers in the collar of Neil’s hoodie. “Idiot,” he says softly, and presses a kiss to Neil’s forehead. Neil melts into his embrace, relieved that the whole fiasco is finally over and he can relax in Andrew’s arms with Andrew’s lips pressed against his.

“I hope you didn’t throw those mustaches away,” Andrew says once he pulls away, and Neil laughs.

“Too late,” he says and decides that he’s never drinking that much alcohol ever again.

#aftg #neil josten #matt boyd #andreil #mine #my writing #aftgfallexchange #yeahboiislay

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lotusss-flowerbomb · 4 years

Text

Dark Knight (2)

Bucky x reader

Warnings: violence, smut (y’all knew it was coming), 18+

A/N: Hey cousins! Just wanted to thank you all for your interest in this fic. I hope this chapter lives up to the expectations you all had for the rest of this story. Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,801-ish

********

You clawed at Andrew's face trying to get him to release you. When that didn't work you reached out for a piece of the glass and cut his face. He finally let go and you coughed and gasped for air.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!!" He lunged for you again.

You swung the glass towards him again and then his entire body went flying into a wall. You looked up to see Bucky rushing towards you.

He helped you up and examined your face and body.

"Wait!" You stopped him when he got close to glass.

"Deep breath," he said to you just before yanking the glass from your arm.

"Ow! You didn't even let me inhale," you screeched.

You heard Andrew groaning as he scrambled to get to his feet. Bucky turned towards him and moved you behind his back. He let Andrew stand before stalking towards him.

He spit blood on the floor before rolling his neck and preparing for a fight. He swung his fist towards Bucky who easily dodged it, grabbed his hand and broke it. The high pitched howl that left his mouth could’ve awakened the dead.

Bucky didn't stop there. He grabbed the same arm, punched his elbow completely shattering it and dislocated his shoulder before throwing a punch to his ribs cracking those too. When Andrew dropped to the ground, Bucky stomped on the shin of his right leg. Another loud crunch echoes through the room and then picked him up by his throat and squeezed.

"Bucky! Bucky, stop, you're gonna kill him!" You tried pulling on his arm.

"He deserves it," he said and squeezed a little tighter.

Andrew's eyes started rolling to the back of his head and he was begging to foam at the mouth. His body dangling as the entire right side was broken.

"I know, but not right now. Bucky, please don't!" You stood in front of him and put your hands on his face.

Bucky finally let him go and his body hit the floor with a loud thud. He wasn't moving.

Just then Steve and Wanda came bursting through the front door. They looked to you and Bucky and then at the still body on the floor.

"He'll live," Bucky nudged his broken shin with his foot and Andrew sucked in a bunch of air and started coughing.

Shortly after, the police walked in and Wanda walked you outside to be seen by a medic. They examined you, cleaned up your cut and then prepared a stretcher for a broken Andrew.

Wanda stood by you while you gave your statement to the police before heading back inside.

"I'll pour you a drink," she sat you down once you reached the kitchen and grabbed a glass and a bottle of wine for you. Once the police left Steve came in and hugged you. Bucky stood across from you on the other side of the island.

"I told you," he pointed his finger at you. "I told you not to bring men to this house." He yelled.

"Bucky, you might want to —" Wanda started, but he cut her off.

"No! Stay out of it," he looked at her. "What if our daughter would have been here? He could have hurt her!"

You couldn't stop the tears from flowing. You were hurt by his words. How could he ever think that you'd put your child in danger?

"I'm not falling for the tears. If you weren't being so fucking stu —"

You threw your wine in his face before he could finish his statement and tossed the glass like a championship baseball pitcher. It hit the counter top, but Wanda used her powers and stopped it before it shattered everywhere.

"Okay, everyone just calm down," Steve tried to reason.

"Fuck you, James Barnes!" You got up from your seat and walked towards the stairs. You slammed your bedroom door behind you.

"You're a real ass do you know that?" Wanda started in on him, "she didn't invite him here. He followed her home, she thinks it may have been from the coffee shop where they met."

Bucky visibly deflated. He really was an ass.

"Looks like you've got a whole lot of apologizing to do," Steve smacked his back. "We'll get out of here, so you can get to it."

He and Wanda left. Bucky cleaned up the pieces of glass from the lamp as he thought about how he was going to apologize for the things he said.

********

When he was finished, he washed his face and decided that pouring you another glass of wine was the best he could do in the moment. He grabbed the bottle and a glass and headed up to the bedroom. Halfway up the stairs, he could hear you sniffling. He took a deep breath and continued on. Normally, he'd just leave until you calmed down, but now wasn't the time for him to run.

He knocked on the door softly before entering. You were lying in bed with your back towards the door hugging your body pillow.

"Go away," you said to him.

"I'm sorry, doll," he walked over to you and sat down. "I shouldn't have said what I said. I let my anger get the best of me."

"Just go, Buck."

"I can't do that."

"Why not? It's not like you don't know how," you snapped.

Bucky exhaled. He knew you still held resentment towards him for leaving. He never gave you a reason why he did and now might be the perfect time to tell you.

"I didn't just leave, because I don't love you or want to be a family..."

His long pause made you turn around. You made a hand motion for him to continue.

Bucky took a deep breath and proceeded with his explanation.

"I almost died on that mission," he looked down at the floor. "I had been back at the compound healing for almost a week before I came home."

"You what?!" You sprang up into a sitting position.

"Let me finish," he put his hand up. "While I was in the medbay, I just kept thinking about how it would hurt you and Jordy if I would have actually died. I figured it would be best for me to distance myself sooner rather than later just in case you ever had to be without me. You'd already know what it felt like."

The room went completely silent. Bucky couldn't place the look on your face. He couldn't tell if you were angry, sad or confused. You'd somehow managed to fit them all into one glare.

You picked up a pillow and swung it at him.

"That has got to be the dumbest fucking thing that I have ever heard in my entire life!" You kept hitting him.

"I know," he snatched the pillow away. "I know that it was stupid. It felt like the thing that I should do at the moment. I immediately regretted it, but after I'd already said that I wanted to leave I couldn't take it back."

You stood, no longer able to keep still.

"Why couldn't you just tell me about the mission?" You paced back and forth. "Why do you have to be so dramatic?!"

"I couldn't tell you, because I already know you would've asked me to quit and I can't do that. After the things I've done, I owe it to the world to keep doing what I do." He said.

You stopped in your tracks and walked over to him, pushing his thighs apart with your legs, so you could stand in between them. You cupped his face in your hands and looked into his eyes. They were full of sadness.

"Sweetheart, you're the only person on that team to give your life twice, because you were saving the world. You owe it absolutely nothing." You pressed your forehead to his.

He pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around your waist. This was the first time he'd been able to hug you in a long time and he missed it more than he was willing to admit.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to kiss you right now, but after what you had just gone through he felt like now wasn't the time.

"I'll run you a bath, it should help you relax so you'll get a little sleep tonight." He let you go and stood before he was no longer able to contain himself.

"Thank you. Oh hey, after that, can you run to the kitchen and grab me two slices of bread?" You requested.

"Bread? Why?" He asked, completely confused.

"I just need it," you shrugged and picked up the bottle of wine. You turned it up and started drinking. At this stage in “needing a drink” a cup was useless.

Bucky started the bath and then went to the kitchen for the bread you asked for. He seriously couldn't figure out what you needed with bread, but you hadn't eaten anything, so maybe you were just hungry?

"Ooh, yay," you did a little clap when he returned and handed you the slices. You stood from your spot on the bed directly in front of him.

"You were too afraid to tell me the truth about your near death experience, so you decided to be a drama queen and break up with me." You placed a slice of the bread on each side of his face, "What are you?"

"For fucks sake," he rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying it."

"You know I've always wanted to do this and honestly, it is the least you could do. Now, what are you?"

Bucky stared at you for a moment before mumbling the answer under his breath.

"Aht! Aht! Louder for the people in the back. What are you?" You pressed the bread onto his face more. You were trying your hardest not to laugh.

"An idiot sandwich," he said before moving.

The damn broke and you flooded the room with laughter. Ever since you saw the old episode of Hell's Kitchen when Gordon Ramsey said that to a contestant, you’d bided your time until you had an opportunity to do it.

"It's not that funny," he rolled his eyes again.

"Yes, it is. You're just upset that I did it to you," you cackled.

He walked out of the room to stop the water in the tub and quickly came back to tell you the bath was ready. You thanked him and started getting undressed when you realized he was still in the room.

"Get out."

"I've seen you naked a million times."

"Well it won't be one million one. Go, go, go." You shooed him away.

He turned and left the room. You went to your tub and sank down into the perfectly tempered water. He still remembered exactly how you like it. You smiled to yourself.

********

After your bath, you applied your favorite body butter and put on a sports bra and shorts. They'd be your pajamas for the night. You could hear the TV playing downstairs. You shouldn't have been surprised. After what happened today Bucky couldn't be paid to leave you alone tonight.

You crawled into bed and tossed and turned for a while before calling out for Bucky. He appeared at the door within seconds and you never heard him coming.

"I don't think that I'll ever get used to you being able to be all stealth mode when you want to be," you said to him.

"What's wrong?" He came into the room.

"Can you get in bed with me? I can't sleep." You moved over and pulled the cover back.

"Are you sure?"

You patted the bed. The spot that was once his was ready and waiting for him. He kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his underwear. He never slept in his clothes, because of his unusually hot body temperature.

He slid into the bed beside you. You couldn't resist reaching up and pushing his hair out of his face.

"I've been meaning to ask, how'd you get here so quickly earlier?"

"I was already on the way here."

"Really? But you knew Jordy was at my sister's, so why were you coming?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, "I just had a feeling and then I got your call. I could hear you telling him to leave and then that... that scream. I mean, I fell off of a train, but hearing you... I've never been so scared in my life." His voice shook a little.

You could see the tears in his eyes.

"Oh no, Buck, don't cry," you wiped the tears away just as they were about to fall. "Just like always, you were just in time. Swooped in like my dark knight."

You pushed a stubborn stray loc of hair from his face and kissed his forehead. Then his cheek. You looked down at his mouth and back up into his eyes. You knew that you shouldn't, but your emotions were getting the best of you.

"Thank you for saving me and staying with me tonight," you said before kissing his lips slowly and softly.

You kissed him again and again until your tongue invaded his mouth. Basking in the feel of such a familiar action. One you'd both been missing.

He pulled away and broke the kiss, but you weren't done, so you planted little kisses on his neck.

"We shouldn't do this, doll. You're on an emotional wave right now and you'll regret it." He tried to reason.

"Mmm hmm," you hummed just before biting his earlobe. You knew that drove him insane. You slowly raked your fingers down his chest.

"I'm serious, It's been months and if we start this I won't be able to stop."

"You promise?" You asked and gripped his rock hard dick.

He flipped you on to your back and crashed his mouth into yours. He pressed his hips into you causing you to moan in his mouth. He pulled your bra over your head and threw it to the floor. Dipping his head to take a nipple into his mouth, he swirled his tongue around the erected bud.

He rubbed his finger lightly over your clit in a circular motion. The whisper of a touch was sending chills up your spine. Then he pressed down on your clit and rubbed his finger around your slick hole before slowly sticking it inside.

The tiny gasp that escaped your mouth made him smile. He pulled his finger out and ran it across your lips.

"Open," he instructed. You opened your mouth and sucked your juices from his finger. "That's my girl," he said before replacing his finger with his tongue.

He lowered himself in between your legs, pulled off your shorts and trailed kisses down your right thigh until he reached your mound.

"Hold them wide open for me," he placed your hands on your thighs.

You were already shaking. You knew you wouldn't be able to keep your legs open while he ate your pussy.

He flicked his tongue over your clit slow at first and then fast. He stuck his tongue in your core and then sucked your sensitive bud into his mouth.

"Yessss, baby," you arched your back and pushed your pussy into his face even more.

You let go of your legs, but he quickly replaced your hands with his own. You reached down and grabbed a fist full of his hair and lifted his head a little. He peered up at you with his lust blown eyes.

"Spit on it."

He did as he was told and swirled it around with his tongue. He sucked your clit into his mouth really hard and then let it go with a loud pop. You pushed your hips up for him to do it again. Over and over and over again, until he started fucking you with his tongue again.

"Fuck baby, fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm gonna cum!" You screamed and rubbed your clit furiously just before squirting all over his face.

He moved back just enough to watch. Your legs were shaking so hard the bed frame was moving.

You grabbed his chin to pull him back up to you and pushed his wet hair from his face and kissed him.

"I need you. I need you right now," you said as you pushed at his underwear.

Bucky kicked the shorts off, but he took his time before entering you. Your legs were spread and your juicy glistening pussy was ready and waiting for him. He stroked himself slowly as he admired all of you.

You rubbed your clit and then patted your pussy softly before using your fingers to spread the lips. He couldn't resist anymore after that. You were opening up for him and he wanted to give you what you were waiting for.

He slid into you leisurely. He wanted to feel every part of you in this moment. You dug your nails into his ass urging him to give you more. When he finally bottomed out he stilled. He tucked his face in the crook of your neck.

"I'm gonna cum right now if I move. Give me a moment." He breathed.

You tightened your pussy around his throbbing cock.

"Fuccckkkk, please, doll, don't!" He pleaded with you.

You locked your legs around him and squeezed some more. When he tried to pull out his body stiffened and his toes curled. He moaned loudly as he bit your shoulder and released himself inside of you.

You smiled and silently congratulated yourself on a job well done.

Bucky never pulled out. His dick was still very much hard and ready to go. He sat up and looked at you.

"Why?"

"Why not?" You smirked.

He pulled out and flipped you over on your stomach.

"You know what to do," he said and slapped your ass.

Your pussy trembled from excitement. You rested your face on your hands, raised yourself up on your knees just a little and arched your back.

He spread your ass cheeks apart and watched as you pushed his cum from your pussy. He used the tip of his dick to rub it around and then he entered you in one swift push.

He fucked you from behind. Quick, rough pumps in and out of your pussy. You gripped the sheets and screamed into the mattress when you felt another orgasm building.

"Don't you fucking dare," he growled.

"No, please, I can't. I can't!" You panted.

"What did I say?" He smacked your ass hard. That didn't help the situation. He knew the harder he hit you the closer it would push you to cumming.

He slapped your ass again.

"Damn it, Bucky!!"

"Next time," he smacked your ass once more, "when I say stop, you stop."

Smack!

"I hate you so much," you clenched your eyes shut. You were literally on the verge of tears not being able to cum.

He pressed his chest to your back. "I love you too," he chuckled and kissed your neck.

He finally pulled out and gave you a break, but only for a moment. He repositioned you on your back and reentered your silk cavern. He'd completely switched his pace this time, so he could see you. He loved the way you'd bite your lip as he rolled his hips into you.

He started slow and then sped up little by little. You mewled beneath him as he stretched you with every stroke. He pushed your knees to your chest. He wanted you completely open to him.

"Bucky I —"

"It's okay, my love, go ahead." He rubbed your clit with his vibranium fingers. The light vibration you felt made your entire body tingle.

Your legs started shaking a little and then you felt the vibration intensity from his fingers increase. He fucked you harder and harder until your pussy erupted. You dug your nails into his right arm as you rode the wave of your orgasm.

Bucky's breaths were getting shorter and his moans were getting louder. He was about to cum.

The bed shook with every movement, but you could hear that something was off.

"Bucky stop..."

"No, this is my pussy," he growled.

He was so close and he thought you didn't want him to cum inside of you, so he drove into you harder. He grabbed the headboard as he coated your walls with his essence.

"No, the bed is gonna — shit!"

Before you could complete your sentence, the entire thing caved. When you opened your eyes he had you wrapped in arms.

You looked at each other and bust out laughing.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"I'm fine," you rolled off of him and stood to look at the damage the two of you had just caused.

"I can't believe you broke my bed," you said in disbelief.

He walked over to the fallen mattress and pointed at the big wet spot.

"You do that and you can't believe that I broke the bed?!"

"Bucky, how are we gonna explain this to Jordy? She'll be home in a few hours."

********

You changed the sheets and Bucky did his best to prop the bed frame and mattress back up. He considered leaving before your sister dropped Jordyn back home, but you both decided that she would be more excited to see him upon arrival.

When you heard the front door open, your energetic little girl was already screaming for her dad and jumping into his arms.

"Well hello to you too, Jordy." You said faking hurt that she'd completely ignored you.

"Oh sorry, hi mommy," she leaned over to kiss your forehead.

Your sister raised her eyebrow and before she could say anything you swept her away to tell her about what happened the night before. You heard Bucky tell Jordyn to take her things up to her room and then she yelled something about having a present for you.

Suddenly there was a loud crash and the three of you went running up the steps to see what happened.

"I didn't touch it! It fell on its own," she yelled and ran into her father's arms.

"Oh no, it's okay baby daddy's the one who broke the bed," Bucky said before he realized.

"How?" She asked. Her little face was completely scrunched in confusion.

You waited for his explanation since he was the one to blab.

"I uhh... Was jumping on it??"

"Oh... Be careful next time," she cautioned.

You shook your head and turned to go back downstairs. You all said your goodbyes to your sister and settled in to have lunch. Bucky couldn't keep his eyes off of you and his baby girl. He was a fool to ever think that being away from you was a good idea. He'd do his best to fix this and make everything right again.

END

********

Taglist:

@titty-teetee

@bluestarego

@ilovesupersoldiers

@andycanbeemotional

@bubblegumbarnes

@cleflove

@rosalynshields

@imsonick

@buckysthing

@fanfictiontrash9

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky x you #Smut #marvel smut #marvel fanfic #Avengers #avengers fic #Lotusss Writes

190 notes · View notes

markonasurface · 4 years

Text

20/50 - “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me.”

Fandom: All for the Game/The Foxhole Court Characters/pairings: Jean, Jeremy/jerejean Summary: Jean and Jeremy tag along on the Foxes’ spring break trip. A/N: This has taken me too long to finish. I think I started it two years ago. I almost forgot to use the quote prompt.

Warnings: implied past abuse

“Kevin invited you to the Foxes’ spring break trip?” Jean asked, eyebrows high.

Jeremy barely glanced up from the text he was studying. “Mm.”

“Are you going?” Jean pressed.

“Are you?” Jeremy snapped.

Jean flinched and Jeremy’s mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry.” He finally put his studying materials down and turned to face Jean. “I didn’t mean to snap. I just - last semester, you know?”

“Yes,” Jean said, even though he didn’t. He felt the heat in his cheeks and internally cursed himself for not being able to control his reactions. Riko used to love to make him flinch. It was at one point worth the beatings for not giving him the satisfactory.

“So, are you going?” Jeremy asked, back to his normal self if a bit exhausted.

He bit the inside of his cheek and stayed completely still. It was hard being around Kevin but it might be nice. Kevin did whatever Riko told him to do but Kevin wasn’t cruel. He had learned from his therapist that he didn’t miss Evermore; he missed the familiarity of it. Kevin could give him a bit of what he thought to be normalcy.

“Jean?” Jeremy said quietly, patiently.

Jean looked up to meet his eyes. “I - yes.”

“You’ll have to give Kevin my regards,” Jeremy said and turned back to his text.

“You aren’t going?” Jean didn’t know if he was relieved.

“I should really study,” Jeremy sighed.

Their bedroom door opened and Jean jumped.

“Y’all left your door unlocked.” Laila fell onto Jeremy’s bed. “And you’re going to spend your last spring break studying? Come on, Jer.”

“Fuck off, Laila,” he said.

She nudged his chair with her foot. “I bet those Foxes get fucking crazy. I wish I’d been invited.”

“Take my invitation.”

Laila took a loud breath. “Mama Alvarez would have a cow if we bailed on her family trip.”

“If you don’t come they’ll probably stick me in a room with Hemmick,” Jean said.

“You could use the brea-eak,” she sang. “Also, see if they’ve picked up any new moves for finals.”

“Laila.”

She held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m kidding. Go. Have fun. Or you’ll burn yourself out and have to come back in the fall.”

Day 1

“An island? Seriously?” Thea stood with her arms crossed over her chest.

Kevin shrugged.

“I thought we were just flying somewhere tropical,” Jeremy added.

“Why are you all looking at me?” Allison demanded. “Neil’s the one who paid for this trip.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Neil said. “I recently came into some money.”

Jeremy sighed. “Right. N.B.D. I just rented an island.”

“Follow me.” A man in khakis and a polo shirt motioned for them. He had introduced himself as Frank as they boarded the small plane that brought them to their rented island.

It was a short walk through some trees and a large house came into view. There were gasps and one of the freshmen from the team said, “No fucking way.”

“Dude, how much did this cost?” Matt asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Neil said, leading the way through the gate.

They walked past the pool and its fountains, up some stairs and through double doors. As they all stood in the foyer, Frank smiled and said, “Right. Everything’s stocked. I’ll be back at the end of the week. If you need anything, call the number on the refrigerator.”

Neil handed the man a cash tip and thanked him.

Allison looked around at everyone. “There are ten rooms. Neil gets first pick, losers.”

“You mean Andrew,” Jack mocked.

It was quiet for a moment then at once everyone raced to find a room. Jean looked at Jeremy and said, “They’re fucking crazy.”

Jeremy laughed as they heard Dan yell, “I’m your damn captain!”

They followed the shouting and as they turned a corner Jeremy ran into Renee. They both apologized, looking like literal sunshine and Jean bit his lip.

“They’re the guests.” Allison was staring down one of her teammates. “They get the room next to ours.”

Jeremy realized she was talking about them and opened his mouth. Renee shook her head, a warning in her eyes. Someone stomped by and Allison grinned.

“Welcome to the third nicest - who am I kidding? - the fourth nicest room on this island!” She gestured grandly. “And that’s saying something.”

Nicky popped his head in. “Fifth nicest. Andrew and Neil gave up the first nicest so they have the second nicest, Dan and Matt have the third nicest, and you have the fourth nicest.”

Before Allison could demand to know who got the glass room on top if it wasn’t Dan and Matt, Nicky ran off.

Jeremy looked as if he suddenly remembered something. “Did you two wanna share? I can room with Nicky or whoever.”

Allison cackled. She left the room.

“We’re not -” Jean started.

“We were never dating,” Renee said.

Jeremy’s eyes were wide. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed and uh, forget I said anything.”

Renee smiled kindly and backed out of the room. Jeremy looked at Jean who was staring at the one bed in the middle of the room.

“I can still room with Nicky if you’re not comfortable sharing,” he said.

Jean swallowed. “It’s fine.” He managed a small smile and said, “We share every other day of the year.”

After they unpacked, everyone seemed to congregate by the pool. Nicky and Andrew were situated behind the bar and Neil was perched on top, but everyone else was already swimming.

Jean glanced around nervously. Since joining the Trojans, he’d become a lot more self-conscious about the state of his body.

“You can leave your shirt on.” The voice startled him and he looked up at Neil, then glanced to see if Jeremy had heard as well. Then he realized Neil was speaking in his native tongue. “But nobody cares.”

Andrew spoke. “Ignore the freshmen. They’re idiots.”

“Where’s Kevin?” Jeremy asked, coming to sit at the bar.

“Fucking Thea,” a girl said, joining them. “I saw her take his shirt off but then they moved away from the glass.”

Aaron grabbed a tray of drinks from Nicky and sneered, “Do you have to be such a perve, Sheena?”

She stuck her tongue out at him, snagging a drink and flicking her wet hair at him.

“Like, Andrew said,” Nicky stated. “The freshmen are idiots.”

He mimicked Sheena’s face, nose scrunched and eyes narrowed, then asked, “What can I make for you?”

“Something that’ll make me forget I have my last midterm when we get back,” Jeremy grimaced. “Who gives a midterm after spring break?”

“I got just the drink for you.”

The sound of the blender going again cut off conversation. Sheena left to play chicken with her friends and Renee called Jean over.

“Don’t break anything!” Dan called from where she was laying out with Allison and Renee as Jean joined them.

“Here you go.” Nicky handed him a glass.

Jeremy held the drink up and studied it. “Are those silver stars?”

“Edible silver stars.”

Aaron came back with a tray in one hand and a girl’s hand in the other and said, “Nicky has to make everything gay.”

The girl hit his arm lightly with the back of her hand. She looked at Jeremy and held out a hand. “Katelyn.”

“Jeremy,” Jeremy said and shook.

“I made you both the same,” Nicky said, handing two more glasses over the bar.

“On three?” Katelyn suggested. “One. Two. Three.”

Everyone who had a drink took a large sip and more than one of them sputtered. “What the fuck is this?” Aaron gasped. “Did you just add ice and stars?”

Nicky shrugged. “Make your own damn drinks if you don’t like it.” He hopped over the bar and ran for the pool.

“You’re drinking this?” Aaron asked in disbelief and Jeremy turned to see Neil gulping it down.

After one large sip, Jeremy was already starting to feel warm. He took another sip, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. When he opened them he saw Renee running her hand down Jean’s bare back. How many times had Jeremy wanted to do the same?

He shook his head. He was such a lightweight. He’d never been one to party hard but he knew how to hold his liquor. The last year he’d spent more time studying and less and less time drinking and his tolerance was down. Clearly.

Day 2

By the second night, Jeremy was starting to realize the Foxes weren’t so different from any other college sports team if you took away the tragic backstories. Yeah, Jeremy would stick out if they all sat around and compared histories but - surprise, surprise - there wasn’t much talk about that.

Allison banned any talk of Exy and if she ever saw Neil and Kevin together she’d cock a brow and put her hands on her hips. Kevin would flip her off and she’d leave with a, “Fuck you. There are rules for a reason.”

It was making him miss his own team - the way they all fit together even when they shouldn’t.

Jean was there, but if anything he was part of the Kevin/Thea/Jean Former Ravens group or the Kevin-Neil-Jean-I-Was-Abused-By-Riko-Moriyama-and-Marked-For-His-Perfect-Court group.

He was different from a year ago when he’d first joined the Trojans but he still had his rough edges and hangups. And Jeremy saw it all.

Whether someone tapped his arm lightly without warning, or when he was flinching awake from a nightmare, Jeremy was there, trying to think of a way to calm Jean down without overstepping.

Jeremy had promised Laila he’d enjoy his spring break and be involved in all the fun things the Foxes did. Jeremy didn’t break promises. That’s why it was two in the morning and he was just starting to work on a study guide problem he’d left at five AM yesterday morning.

He groaned. Shots before homework wasn’t working for him.

“Jer,” Jean said, voice hoarse. “Come to bed.”

In his sluggish alcohol influenced state of mind, he almost thought Jean was asking him to come to his bed. His face flushed as he thought, What if Jean could read my mind and saw that?

He cleared his throat. “Soon. I’ll go to bed soon. I just need to finish at least three problems first.” Who was he kidding? He’d be lucky if he finished one.

“Okay,” Jean breathed, turning over and promptly falling back to sleep.

That was something that had surprised Jeremy. The way Jean could just sleep. He had expected his distrust to keep him awake at night. He guessed when you were tortured and worked to the bone, you had to take the sleep where you could get it.

Jean looked so cozy and peaceful, Jeremy wanted to be cozy and peaceful. He made the mistake of putting his head down on the desk.

He bolted awake when tentative fingers touched his arm.

Day 3

Jean flinched and Jeremy took a deep breath. “Sorry, sorry.”

“The others are going for a hike,” Jean said quietly though he offered a smile. “Apparently there’s a waterfall. Do you want to come?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeremy responded, yawning and stretching. When he looked back at Jean, Jean quickly averted his eyes.

“They’re meeting by the pool.”

Jean hurried out, closing the door behind him.

Jeremy stretched as he stood. There was a crick in his neck that was making him regret last night’s choices.

He picked up a shirt off the floor and sniffed it. What did it matter? They were gonna get sweaty on their hike. He tried to shove away the thought of what would Jean think and changed into the shirt.

“Jer-bear!” Nicky greeted him as he stepped outside.

He squinted at the sun. It was only eight in the morning but it was already too hot. Jeremy couldn’t wait to get to the waterfall.

As they approached the start of the trail, two figures raced down the hill toward them. Thea pushed Kevin and Kevin shouted, “Hey!”

The two of them passed the sign indicating which way to go around roughly the same time and immediately Jean said, “Thea.”

“No one asked,” Kevin said, panting, but he didn’t look upset. “Besides, she cheated.”

“Prove it,” Thea said, hands behind her head as she gulped air.

“Rematch.”

Nicky said, “Neil would beat you both.”

“With those little legs?” Thea looked skeptical.

“Show ‘em, Neil.”

Neil shook his head. “I don’t feel like it.” He paused and looked at Andrew. “I don’t run anymore.”

The way he said it gave the words weight and Jeremy felt like he was missing something. Neil and Andrew’s teammates groaned and Andrew looked unimpressed.

“That was really sweet, Neil,” Matt said.

Neil winked at Matt and Andrew muttered something that had him grinning widely.

“If we’re done with the cheesefest ...” Allison stomped past everyone.

The waterfall was breathtaking. Jeremy couldn’t believe something could be so untouched by man.

“What took you guys so long?” Thea called as she dunked Neil under the water.

Despite what he’d said about not running anymore, Neil couldn’t resist Thea’s challenge and they’d run ahead of the group with Kevin.

As some of the others dived in, Jeremy’s eyes searched for Jean. He was leaning down so Renee could rub some sunscreen on his face. Jeremy tried to stuff down the jealousy bubbling in his chest.

This wasn’t him. He didn’t get jealous. Certainly not of one the nicest humans to ever exist touching his teammate who clearly didn’t mind. He was about to turn away when Jean pulled his shirt over his head.

And how could he have such negative feelings when Jean was so obviously enjoying his spring break? After the first day, Jean didn’t even hesitate in stripping down and letting the others see him shirtless. As his roommate, of course Jeremy had seen him without a shirt, but it had been months before his first reaction wasn’t to cover up his scars. In the locker rooms, he always changed as quickly as possible and usually with his locker open.

Here, with people who had trauma, too, and who didn’t bat an eye when Jean took his shirt off, he was able to stop thinking about it. It made Jeremy sad that he wasn’t able to give Jean that around their team.

Jean turned around and Jeremy tried to pretend he hadn’t been staring. When he stood in front of him, he asked, “You okay, Jer?”

Jeremy swallowed once. He felt his cheeks get hot but hoped his sunburn hid his blush. “Yeah, just, um, enjoying the view.” He inwardly groaned. Jean had seen him staring at him. He scratched his cheek.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Jean said. He clearly meant the trees and the water. Jeremy was both relieved and disappointed. “See you down there?”

“Yeah.”

Day 4

Jeremy put on his noise canceling headphones and opened his textbook. He had to get this reading done. He wouldn’t allow any more distractions until he finished.

Not even a sleepy looking Jean poking his head into their shared room.

He removed his headphones and gave him a questioning look.

“We’re putting on a movie. Wanna join?”

Jeremy sighed. “Can’t. I should have finished this chapter two days ago.” Jean bit his lip, then he closed the door. “What are you -?” He sat on the bed.

“I don’t really like movies that much.”

It was a lie. Jeremy knew it was a lie, but he wasn’t going to argue. He remembered the look of confusion on his face the first time he heard Jeremy ask what movie the rest of the team would like to watch. He gave Jean a small smile before putting his headphones back on.

An hour later, Jeremy was lying beside Jean, who was dozing, his head on an open book. His head lolled to the side and pressed into Jeremy’s arm.

Jeremy froze and tried to keep his breathing even.

His eyes followed the line of Jean’s jaw. He liked this side of Jean’s face best. It wasn’t tattooed and it had less scars. He still liked the other side of Jean’s face - he liked his whole face - it was just easier to not think about the circumstances that brought him to his team when he could only see the right half of Jean’s face.

Day 6

“No studying tonight!” Allison yelled.

“But -”

“Jean told us you study every night after we go to bed,” she said. “It’s your last night. Enjoy it!”

Jeremy shot a look over to Jean at the bar who - was smiling? He shrugged at Jeremy before tipping back a shot.

Allison had made a list and passed it around to anyone who wasn’t a freshman. Any time one of the freshmen said or did something on her list, the others had to do a shot.

From the looks of things, Nicky, Dan, and Matt had gotten an early start on the game. Allison whispered, “Don’t worry if you can’t remember who’s who. Just drink when the rest of us do.”

Jeremy looked around at the team, then into the pool with its night lights on and glowing balls floating on the surface.

Renee came over and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one drowns.”

When one of the freshmen girls made a pervy remark about Kevin, Nicky handed out shots. When one of the boys copped a feel off the girl and she pretended to be offended, he handed out two shots to every person. When a couple of the freshmen started making out, he got three shots - one for the act and two for the couple.

Things and time started to blur and Jeremy had no idea how much time had passed. They’d all eventually moved into the large house to get warm. Kevin and Thea had disappeared a while ago as had Aaron, Katelyn, and a few of the freshmen. Now Neil and Andrew were heading upstairs.

The music was loud, the lights looked brighter, and Jean was laughing. It almost made Jeremy smile, but then he realized he was laughing at something Renee had said. He wrapped an arm around her and leaned down so she could whisper something in his ear.

Jeremy left.

It was too difficult to watch and he didn’t want to say or do anything to embarrass himself. Allison grabbed his arm in the hallway and said, “You better not be going off to study!”

“No!” he shouted back. “I just need to lie down for a bit.”

Once he made it to his room and shut the door, it seemed uncomfortably quiet. He flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling as his eyes adjusted to the dark.

Jeremy was generally a positive person, but as he lay there, thoughts of Jean and Renee swirled around his mind. They said they weren’t dating. They said they’d never dated, but the whole week it was almost like they were a couple. They went everywhere together and partnered for every game.

He fell asleep, his mind seeped in jealousy and booze.

He woke up when Jean stumbled into the room, holding something in his hand. He vaguely registered music still pounding in the hallway.

“Hey, sorry,” Jean tried to whisper. “Everyone is asleep.”

“Okay?” Jeremy said.

“Renee made cookies.” He offered out his hand.

Jeremy might have sneered. “Of course she did. She’s amazing. She’s an amazing person. She’s an amazing goalie. I bet she’s an amazing girlfriend.” He was still drunk. It probably hadn’t been that long since he fell asleep.

Jean looked confused and timid. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Jeremy muttered, suddenly aware of how he must’ve come across.

“Are you jealous of Renee?” he asked, lips quirking.

Jeremy sighed and fell back on his pillows. “What? No ...” He looked over at Jean. “Okay, fine.”

Jean stepped closer and sat on the edge of the bed, looking over his shoulder at Jeremy. “Why?”

“Nothing,” he murmured, cheeks feeling hot.

“I’ve not been a good friend,” Jean said. “You’re just so friendly and easy going that I didn’t think you wanted me hanging around the whole week. And I figured Kevin would be taking up at least half your time.”

“That’s not - I mean -” Jeremy was at a loss for words.

“Then what is it?”

He threw an arm over his face, struggling to get a word out.

“You guys are so close,” he finally said. “I guess I just want to be - close with you.”

“We’re roommates,” Jean said. “We are close. There’s no one I trust more.”

Jeremy sat up. “No, I’m gay.”

He shrugged. “Okay ... I figured -”

“I have these ... feelings ... for you ...” He knew his expression was pained and sad but he couldn’t help it. He had probably just ruined things between them.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Jean asked as Jeremy’s head lowered and he shrugged. “I think I have ... feelings for you, too.”

Jeremy’s mouth fell open. “Really?”

Jean shrugged again, feeling self-conscious. “Yes. It’s why I’ve been hanging out with Renee so much this week - to get her advice about you.”

“I really want to kiss you,” he said in a rush. “I mean, if that’s okay.”

Jean held his breath, then nodded. Jeremy moved closer. Jean blurted, “I just - um, I need to set clear boundaries and I need you to respect them.”

“Of course,” Jeremy breathed. He watched as he bit his lip, looking like there was more he wanted to say. “Hey, it’s okay. You can set all the boundaries you need.”

Jean took a shaky breath. “I need you to take things slow,” he said, voice quiet. “I need you to be patient and not get mad if I can’t do - if I can’t -”

“Hey, Jean, you don’t need to do anything, alright?” Jeremy said. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” He reached out to take Jean’s hand but Jean flinched.

“I’m sorry, I -”

Jeremy held up his hand this time and slowly moved to grab Jean’s hand so he had time to move away if he wanted to.

“I’ve never - I don’t mean to flinch. It’s not you.” He lay down next to Jeremy and stared at the ceiling. Their arms were pressed together from their shoulders to their fingertips and after a minute, it started to feel comfortable. “I’ve talked about you in therapy because I wasn’t sure about what my feelings meant.”

He took long pauses between sentences but Jeremy didn’t dare to interject.

“Nothing that ever happened in my life ever was consensual.” Hard swallow. “Until you and the Trojans. I don’t know if I’m gay, honestly. I’m still figuring things out. Feeling anything confuses me. You’re the only person who offers something to me and lets me choose to accept it.”

“You noticed?” Jeremy was shocked.

“Of course I noticed. I was confused - at first - but it’s become everything to me. If this is too complicated I understand ... but I hope - I don’t know.” He sighed, frustrated with himself and everything leading up to this point that was making him unable to trust his own feelings.

Jeremy bit his lip. “I’m here. You’re worth the wait, Jean. I want to be the one you can figure things out with.”

Jean sat up. “What if - what if I’m wrong about this?” His voice was breathy and when Jeremy met his eyes, they were wet.

“Then we’ll stop and we’ll continue being friends.”

“I don’t even know if I can try.” Every fear seemed to be coming to the front of his mind. “What if I’m wasting your time?”

Jeremy sat up. “I don’t care. Can I hold your hand again?” Jean nodded. “If after everything, you decide you’re not gay, or you’re not into me, it will all be fine. I could never hold it against you. I care about you and nothing will ever stop me from caring about you.”

Jean’s gaze on his face was intense but Jeremy tried to keep an open expression. He meant what he said and he needed Jean to know that everything would be okay.

“Can I kiss you?”

Jeremy felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. “Please.”

Day 7

As they sat on the boat that would take them back to the mainland Jeremy couldn’t help the smile on his face. Jean was next to him, arm pressed right against his.

He looked behind him to where Neil and Andrew sat, space between them but hands linked on the seat. Andrew was looking off in the distance.

Jeremy opened his mouth to ask Neil a question when Andrew’s head snapped in his direction. “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“That smile on your face is making my hangover worse.”

Jean turned around. “Get used to it.”

1 Kevin/Thea 2 Neil/Andrew 3 Dan/Matt 4 Allison/Renee 5 Jean/Jeremy 6 Aaron/Katelyn 7 2 freshmen 8 2 freshmen 9 2 freshmen 10 Nicky

#aftg #aftg fic #tfc #tfc fic #jerejean #background andreil #background kevinxthea

42 notes · View notes

leelee10898 · 4 years

Text

The 13th Duchess..

This is my submission for the creepy campfire tales, hosted by @speedyoperarascalparty.

Books: A very Scandalous proposal and Unexpected Heiress. (Vip books)

Pairing: Ridley(mc) x Simon Montjoy

****************

"Everything is all set, Darling." Simon sauntered into the room, a bright smile on his face. "I must say, I am rather excited for this party. The first Halloween bash Barrington has seen."

"Have I told you lately how much of a god send you are, hubby?" Ridley smirked, turning her back to him. "Zip me?"

"Anything for you, my love. Simon's let out a low chuckle, his fingers slowly pulled the zipper of her dress. "Shall we?" He extended his arm and the two made their way to the ballroom.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting Simon and Ridley Montjoy, Duke and Duchess of wessex." The herald announced as the two entered the festively decorated ball room. The pair had been married just over a year, Ridley and Simon taking over the Barrington estate full time and loving every minute of it, well, maybe not every minute.

An estate as old as Barrington came with some interesting phenomenons, which Ridley would often freak out over. Simon on the other hand never seemed to notice when things would groan, or randomly appear. They decided to throw a Halloween party on the spookiest of nights, All Hallows eve.

Ridley wore a beautiful crimson flapper dress, simon wearing a matching suit to really give them the roaring 20s feel. The pair split the room, speaking with their guest. Ridley's head was spinning, she needed a breather. She found a quiet corner and pressed against the wall, eyes closed for just a moment.

"I'd love to say it gets easier but, I can not tell a lie." A voice pulled her from her rest. Her eyes landing on a petite woman with dark hair who looked exactly like someone she would have loved to go back in time to meet.

"I just love your costume, the details are flawless. If I didn't know any better, I would think you were the 13th duchess herself." Ridley grinned ear to ear, the woman smile matching hers.

"Gemma Montjoy at your service." She winked, extending her hand, Ridley taking it giving a firm shake. "How wonderful to meet you, Gemma. I'm,"

"Oh darling, everyone knows who you are." The woman gave her a brilliant smile. "Ridley Duchannes Or, shall I say Montjoy now. You and Simon have done a wonderful job leading Barrington into a new age, such a wonderful job."

"Why thank you. I have to ask, why the 13th duchess? I mean, I am partial to her myself." Ridley began, "Her memoirs are what led me here in the first place."

"Lets just say Gemma and I are kindred spirits. Besides, the montjoys are family." The lady gave a playful smirk. "Say, it's been quite a while since I have wandered these old halls, shall we see what kind of trouble we can get into tonight, being its Hallows eve?"

Ridley hesitated, she did not know this woman but the American in her screamed and got into trouble, she did say she was family. Her lips twisted into a rebellious grin. "What the hell, let's do it."

The two wandered into the study just off the ball room, Gemma's hand roamed down the wall "should be right… here." She grinned as the wall swung open, Gemma lit an old lantern and the pair disappeared into the passage ways.

"So you've been researching the Montjoy family's history I hear. I have yet to read your book but, I can't imagine the scandal you unearthed." The woman spoke as the two made their way down the dimly lit halls.

"I have. Did you know that Thomas Montjoy, the husband of the 13th Duchess fathered a child out of wedlock? He sadly passed a year after he and Gemma took the boy in."

"Andrew." The woman's voice turned soft, a slight pain behind it.

"Yes, Andrew Olivier Montjoy. He went by Ollie as I understand it. I can't imagine how Gemma handled such a situation with as much grace as she did. I do not know how I would handle that, it would completely crush me if Simon ever did that."

"I assure you darling, she struggled to connect with the boy. Her attempts thwarted at every turn, ollie just would not warm up to her. It broke her heart. Never having children of her own, he was as close as she ever got."

"How do you know all of this? I have never been able to find any diaries or letters from the 13th Duchess."

The woman opened her mouth to speak but abruptly shut it as a set of raised voices grew louder.

"Damnit Genevive, I said I wanted to go as a naval captain, I look like bloody captain crunch." Hugos voice rang out. Gemma motion towards a small hole in the wall, peaking in they could see Hugo and his wife Genevive. "Now settle down Hugo. I am trying to adjust this griddle but it wont. Go. Down." Genevive huffed struggling against her husband. "Oh dear, he looks like a busted can of biscuits." Gemma giggled. "Pillsbury should hire him as a spokesperson." Ridley cackled.

"What was that? Who's there?" Hugo shouted. "Careful Hugo it'll," Genevive gasped as the girdle snapped, flinging across the room, Hugo flew back, flipping over the chaise and landed on his back, feet up in the air.

The pair let out a roarous laughter and took off running down the hall. They settled against the wall, catching their breath.

"Well that was certainly one for the books. " Ridley laughed. "I'd say so." Gemma agreed looking around.

"ah. Here we are." She ran her hand along the wall pressing a button. The door slid open, revealing a room that had clearly not seen the light of day in quite some time.

"What the hell? I have never been in this room."

"That is because nobody knows about this place, not anyone living that is." She chuckled. Ridley gave her a confused look.

"Well. Have at it darling." The woman motioned around the room.

Ridley waived her hand, clearing the cobwebs from her path. The room had gone untouched for quite some time. The vanity still loaded with a pewter brush and mirror, a compact and various bottles of perfume littered the top. Ridley walked over to the bedside table picking up a black leatherbound book. She blew the thick dust from the cover and opened up to the first page.

This is the diary of Gemma Montjoy, Duchess of wessex.

Ridley's eyes boggled out of her head. "This? This is hers? The 13th duchess, THE Gemma Montjoy!"

The woman smiled, her hand ran softly against the tattered bed spread.

"The room was sealed off shortly before her death, only a select few knew of it. Her dear friend Lillian Hayes saw to it. Such a pity what happened to Amelia, her dear sister. Never did fully get over that one but, Lilian gave everyone hope again. " A shadow cast on her face, she quickly shook it off. " You want some more Montjoy family information, look to the somerset family. Cousins of the Montjoys loads of scandal there."

"Lillian? Amelia? Who are they? And what happened to Amelia."

"Why, Amelia was murdered of course. Amelia was set to wed Francis Somerset but, her untimely demise ended that and her sister Lillian stepped in to take her place." She gave a sad smile.

Ridley sat on the bed flipping through the diary, her eyes widening. "She solved the murder? And who is John?"

" She sure did. And John was Francis's brother. Lilian made a marriage pact quite like you and your simon did. She would have never gone through with the marriage, it was all a farce. John had her heart."

Ridley's head was spinning at all of the new information. How did this woman who looked identical to the 13th duchess know all of this. If it weren't for the dusty old journal in her hands, she would have thought it fake. Was it a dream? She tried to pinch herself awake but her attempts were futile, Ridley was very much awake.

The phone strapped to her thigh began to vibrate, a slew of text from Simon appearing on the screen.

"Everything ok?" Gemma questioned.

"Yes, my husband is worried about me." She looked at the time, "has it been an hour already?"

"Perhaps we should be heading back?" The woman questioned, Ridley nooded her head. "Yes but, I don't want to leave. This is the 13th dutchess private room. Nobody has ever seen it and here we are."

"Of course, it is like a missing piece to a puzzle. Perhaps you could come back again, but for now your husband worries. Come now Ridley, we haven't much time."

Ridley stood nodding her head. "Ok. But I am taking this." She held up the book.

"Have at it."

The two women ventured through the passages back to the study. The wall slid open and Ridley stepped out, Simon standing there waiting for her.

"Ridley, Darling. You gave me a fright. I thought I would have to send a search party after you." She wrapped his arms around her. "You know that saint Bernard is just a call away." He chuckled, releasing her. "Where the bloody hell did you get off to?"

"I'm fine Simon, my friend and I found Gemma Montjoys hidden room." She smirked.

"Your friend, Darling?" Simon quirked his brow giving her a confused look. "Ridley, how much have you had to drink? Are you snozzled?"

"I am not drunk, Simon! She's right here.." Ridley turned pointing towards the wall, only to find her new friend was gone. "Where..Where'd she go?"

"Ooookay.. Darling, perhaps you've inhaled too much dust in the passage ways. Come now, let's get you a glass of water and some fresh air." Simon led a confused Ridley away. She kept peaking back waiting for the woman to jump out of her hiding spot, could she have imagined it all?

Later that evening Ridley sat in bed, the journal firmly grasped in her hands. "I can not believe I found this Simon." She sighed contently. "There is so much personal information in here. Much more than her memoirs."

Simom smiled fondly, climbing into bed next to his wife. "Brilliant Darling, you should add this into your next book." He leaned over kissing her good night. She turned the to a blank page in between another entry. Ridley's mind wandered back on the night, something odd was going on but she couldn't quite figure it out. Had she dreamed it? But then how did she come by the book? She shook her head in frustration looking back down on the page only this time it wasnt blank.

Ridley darling, I had a blast tonight. Enjoy the journal.

Until next year,

~Gemma

Ridley's eyes went wide, she didn't just meet a woman dressed as Gemma Montjoy, she met her Ghost.

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#leelee10898writes #a very scandalous proposal #creepy campfire tales

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

More Than Words (Spideypool)(One)

Welcome to the story! This will be a time traveling shenanigan ft. Modern!Omega!Peter and Mountain Man!Alpha!Wade! Buckle up for 25 chapters (and growing!) of all the sass, sweetness and smexiness we love about Spideypool!

(For anyone new to my Spideypool: None of these characters are SM:HC/FFH. I pick my faves from Tobey Maguire/Andrew Garfield movies, and everyone else pretty much comes from the comics!)

(also, if anyone cares. The Title is from this cover of THIS SONG)

MTW MASTERLIST HERE

Enjoy!

****************

“To Peter, who managed to not only expose a terrible corporation for it’s greed and lack of morals, but also managed to shake Tony Stark’s hand without melting into a puddle of fan boy goo--”

“Harry!.” Peter pinched the Alpha in the side and Harry oophed theatrically. “Either give me a proper toast or shut the hell up!”

“I got one, I got one.” Gwen stood and raised her wine glass. “To Peter, who literally changed the world with his expose on Hammer Tech, and proved that the little guy can and does make a difference.”

Peter rolled his eyes over the little guy comment but raised his drink anyway, and Gwen blew the Omega a kiss. “We are really proud of you Pete. Way to get famous.”

“Way to get famous!” Johnny cheered and clanked his cup with Peter. “Also? Way to land that hell of a check. How many zeroes were on that thing?”

“I counted three before the decimal.” Mary Jane tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear and leaned close for a quick kiss on Peter’s cheek. “Way to go, Tiger. Taking on powerful corporations, writing inflammatory exposes and catching the attention of Tony Stark? Not bad for a punky kid from Queens.”

“It’s not bad.” Peter echoed, tugging the other Omega in for a one sided hug. “And meeting Tony Stark was pretty amazing, even though I think half the reason he gave me the grant was to rub it in Hammer’s face. Apparently those two hate each other.”

“Look at that.” Johnny drawled. “The rich and famous are just like us , they have petty rivalries and everything.”

“Hey, if their petty rivalries mean Peter doesn’t have to pay rent for the next year, then keep the bullshit coming!” Gwen decided loudly and Mary Jane murmured an agreeable, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Was it really enough to pay your rent, Pete?” Harry raised his eyebrows. “All because of your story?”

“Mr. Stark said something about how I couldn’t focus on saving the world if I was worried about my rent.” Peter shrugged off his friend’s wide eyed disbelief. “So he cut me a check from the Stark Foundation and told me to keep searching for the truth. And now--” despite his attempt at modesty, Peter’s smile stretched wide. “And now I’m not worried about my rent.”

“So I’m thinking you and I should be roomies now since I would love to not pay rent for a year.” Gwen chimed in and Johnny snorted a laugh. “But let’s circle back to that later, because I found you something amazing when I was out thrift store shopping and this seems like a wildly inappropriate time to give it you, so here we go.”

Peter shot a curious and maybe suspicious glance towards the usually prank happy Alpha, and tore the wrapping off the box while Harry protested, “I didn’t know we were supposed to bring congratulatory gifts tonight! That’s not fair, way to show us all up, Gwen!”

“Well Har, I’d say give Pete a chunk of those famous Osborn millions, but I think he’s got the money part covered now.” Johnny leaned back in his chair and cocked his head in a clear challenge to the Alpha. “Which means you got nothing to give him, don’t it? Nothing to offer the Omega at all.”

“And what exactly are you gonna give him?” Harry retorted, and Johnny bared his teeth as he replied, “Well a kiss, of course. Exactly what every Omega wants from a good lookin’ Alpha.”

“Giving something I can get anytime isn’t really a present.” Peter deadpanned and Mary Jane giggled at Johnny’s affronted expression. “You give away kisses like you’re going out of business, Johnny. No Omega wants kisses that cheap.”

“Brat.” Johnny huffed, scowling when Harry chuckled at Peter’s sass. “You’re just irritated you didn’t think of it, Harry. Gwen got Pete a present, I’m offering to give him kisses, so you’re the only Alpha around that doesn’t think enough of Pete to treat him well.”

Harry’s lip curled in a snarl and Johnny echoed with one of his own, and just as Peter started to look annoyed, MJ cleared her throat and announced, “Boys! Alphas who act like knot heads won’t be invited to any more parties!”

“Yeah, cut it out.” Gwen gave each of the other Alpha’s a swift kick beneath the table and scowled at them. “Stop ruining Pete’s big day.”

“... sorry, Pete.” Harry deflated first, Johnny’s muttered apology coming next. “Sorry. Open your present and we’ll behave.”

“Thanks.” Peter gave each Alpha a sweet smile, and went back to his present, quietly and wholeheartedly grateful for things like scent blockers.

Nothing was worse for an Omega than getting a nose ful of hormone heavy Alpha scent, and today of all days, Peter didn’t want to play patient with a couple of jealous, horny Alphas. Usually Johnny and Harry were low key about their interest, but lately Johnny’s jokes had skewed towards sexual and intimate while Harry’s friendly protectiveness was inching towards possessive and Peter really just--

--oh God, he really just didn’t want any part of it.

No thank you.

“Oh my god.” Attention diverted from the Alphas by his present, Peter burst into laughter when he saw-- “Gwen, is this a romance novel? ‘Claimed by the Mountain Alpha’?! Why would you buy me this?”

“Oh please.” Gwen looked pleased as hell that her gift had made the Omega smile. “I have it on good authority you have an entire shelf full of smutty romances, Pete! And I know all your favorites are falling apart because you read the sexy parts over and over while you--!”

“GWEN!” Peter turned bright red and the Alpha almost cackled with laughter. “For the love of God, stop talking!”

“I just thought you’d like something to read while you drink your champagne tonight.” Gwen amended, sounding only slightly less wicked. “You can get bubbly drunk and swoon over the x rated parts and I promise to only tease you a little for itt.”

“Hey now, what an Omega does with their smutty novels--” Mary Jane started to defend Peter, and then paused to ask, “Wait. Were you going to drink champagne alone tonight, Peter? That is the saddest thing I’ve heard in my life! Champagne isn’t meant to be drank alone!”

“I don’t think it’s the saddest thing in the world!” Peter protested. “Lots of people drink alone!”

Harry was recovered from his earlier embarrassment and winked as he cut in, “Besides, I think it’s probably for the best Peter drink it by himself. I think we all remember what happened last time Pete got champagne drunk in public.”

“Can confirm.” Johnny held up his phone and waggled his brows. “In fact, I still have the pictures! Shall we take a stroll down memory lane?”

“That’s enough from all of you.” Peter said loudly and the group of friends dissolved into laughter. “Honestly though, Gwen. Did you set out to find me the cheesiest historical romance ever, or was it just a happy accident?”

“I don’t want to say I went searching specifically for it.” Gwen’s glee over Peter’s embarrassment was almost comical. “But I did check six stores and ask people’s opinion about the purchase.”

“Kill me.” Peter groaned. “Gwen--”

“Holy crap!” Johnny snatched the book and ogled the cover, eyes overly wide. “Look at the tiddies on that guy! Are we sure he’s not the Omega?”

“Not all Omegas have breasts, moron.” Harry took the book next, furrowing his brow at the scantily clad Omega clutched in a brutish Alpha’s arms. “Besides, that’s an old school Alpha right there, look at those fangs. No one has fangs anymore, they started yanking those on Alphas in the seventies. Gwen how old is this book?”

“Apparently older than the seventies.” Gwen ran her tongue over her decidedly fangless teeth. “It’s nice they don’t just rip our fangs out anymore huh? A few hours at the cosmetic dentist and all us Alphas are perfectly socially acceptable.”

Both Johnny and Harry grunted in agreement, and Gwen turned back to Peter. “Anyway sweetheart, I thought you’d like the book mostly for the vintage feel. It will fit right in with all of Uncle Ben’s records and Auntie May’s cross stitched pillows you keep around.”

“I do like old fashioned things--” Peter began, but he was interrupted by MJ, who flipped a few pages of the novel and shouted, “WOW! Pete the sex in this is amazing!”

The three Alphas at the table immediately began clamoring for the book and Peter could have just died when Harry read a line out loud about the Omega being taken roughly against the door and Johnny moaned through a description of the Alpha’s turgid--

“Alrighty then.” Peter snatched the novel and shoved it in his bag , blushing hard enough that the scent of embarrassment filtered out even through his suppressants, effectively shutting up the Alphas and making MJ automatically purr at him. “Please don’t read my smutty things out loud, and definitely don’t shout lines at the top of your lungs, mkay? Thanks.”

“Aw Pete, we’re just teasing.” Johnny drummed his fingers on the table, clicking his tongue soothingly until Peter’s scent mellowed again. “Sorry about that.”

“We didn’t mean anything by it, Pete. But come on, be honest.” Harry waved down the waitress and motioned for another round of drinks. “An Omega like you doesn’t really want an Alpha like that, right?”

“What do you mean an Omega like me?” Peter sipped at his wine and scowled at his friends. “What does that mean?”

“You refused to kiss me until I had my fangs filed down.” Gwen pointed out. “And we were thirteen. They were barely fangs, Pete!”

“You wear suppressants even on dates.” Johnny said next and Harry added, “You only call one of us for your heat at the very last minute when you can’t handle it anymore, then kick us out right after getting knotted.”

“I called you Omega last week and you about bit my head off.” Gwen stated. “One time when we snuggled, you purred real sweet so I growled and called you pretty, and you kicked me off the couch.”

“Okay okay okay!” Peter held up his hands in surrender. “Alright fine. Yes, Gwen I’m very happy that Alpha’s don't have fangs anymore because honestly, yikes. And seriously how is the growling thing hot? Growling is practically a threat!. I wear suppressants on dates so the Alpha has to pay attention to me and not my scent, but lots of Omegas do that, it’s not just me. You Alphas wear scent blockers too, how is that any different?”

“And kicking you out after I get knotted? I mean--” Peter didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed. “What else do I need an Alpha for? What’s the point of you guys sticking around? I don’t want stinky Alpha cuddles after my heat, I want a shower and a pound of pasta.”

Predictably, the three Alphas erupted into arguments about how post heat cuddles were necessary and that their knot wasn’t the only thing they were good for, and amid the commotion Mary Jane leaned over and whispered, “Okay, but you don’t really hate Alpha scent and growls, do you?”

“It’s not my favorite.” Peter whispered back. “What’s sexy about an Alpha getting possessive and growling? They’re like a dog acting greedy with a bone, except instead of a bone they have knots!”

“Oh my god.” Mary Jane muffled a giggle. “You’re absolutely right about that, but I stll think it could be romantic! An Alpha being driven so wild by my scent they are reduced to growls? Imagine having your true mate, your soul mate absolutely speechless, reduced to nothing but their basest instincts when they see you. Or wow, to actually be scent bonded? For an Alpha to know you are meant to be theirs just because of your scent?”

“And fangs?” She lowered her voice some more. “I know Alphas don’t have fangs anymore, but come on, Tiger. You’d totally melt if an Alpha pushed you against a door and ran their teeth over your neck. Imagine it with sharp and dangerous fangs. Just think about it.”

“I think you’re just a horny Omega who needs a good knotting.” Peter decided and MJ squealed at him.

“I’m being serious! You don’t think it’s romantic? Not at all?!”

“I think that our grandparents literally had to march on Washington to give Omegas the right to vote.” Peter said flatly. “Your parents campaigned to have their Omega-Omega bond seen as legal just so they could adopt you. It took years and years of serious legislation before Omegas had access to reliable birth control and suppressants so we could lead lives outside the house and it was May’s generation that demanded Alphas use scent blockers so the rest of us aren’t subjected to their aggression and hormones.”

“Well sure but--”

“Remember forced marriages because Alphas would scent match and imprint, and the Omegas had to mate so the Alpha wouldn’t snap feral and hurt someone?” Peter pressed. “Omegas and even Betas in the hospital for emergency or plastic surgery because an Alpha raged out and tore them up with their fangs? You’d rather have this sort of dynamic--” Peter pointed to the book, to the fangs and the Omega’s clear submission in contrast to the Alpha’s nearly animalistic dominance. “Then what we have now?”

“Well it doesn't have to be all or nothing.” MJ groused. “Just because I like Alphas getting growly and maybe fantasize about getting stuck with some fangs doesn’t mean I want some Alpha to scent bond me and then force me to mate. Sheesh Pete, lighten up a little.”

“History has proved, it’s pretty much all or nothing.” The Omega lifted on shoulder in a half hearted shrug. “It’s either fangs and no chemical regulators and a society where we Omegas are literally at the mercy of an Alpha’s hormones, or a world where everyone takes their medicine, Alphas get rid of the weapons in their mouths and Omegas can lead normal lives.”

“Pete.” Mary Jane rolled her eyes. “You talk like you have no use for Alphas at all. Look me in the eye and tell me you’ve never once read one of these stupid romance novel and wanted a mate of your own. Social things and work and all that aside, you really don’t want a mate? You’re twenty four and never even had a serious relationship. Don’t you wonder what you’re missing?

Something awful flitted through Peter’s dark eyes then, painful and vulnerable enough to make Mary Jane catch her breath in surprise. “Oh honey, are you okay?”

She reached for him, but Peter leaned away and schooled his features, managing a nearly bland, “I dunno, MJ. I think I prefer this life. Mates and scent matches are about as necessary as fairy tales, you know? I’m not missing out on anything.”

“Pete--” Mary Jane whispered, but just then the Alphas decided to stop arguing and rejoin the conversation and Johnny stuck his nose in to ask, “What’s this about mates? Pete, are you finally thinking about settling down?”

“Nope.” Peter slashed his hand through the air and shook his head. “Don’t get your hopes up. I was telling MJ that mates and scent matches are unnecessary, but what is entirely necessary is my next project, so I need to get home and get started. Mr. Stark didn’t give me all this money so I could blow it drinking with my friends.”

“What’s your next project, Pete?” Harry reached for the bill before the Omega could, and passed his card off to the waitress. “I thought the Hammer Tech story was your entire workload.”

“I’ve been working on a side project for a while now.” Peter blew the Alpha a kiss as a thank you for buying his drinks. “I was going to do one of those genealogy charts as a present for May and was tracking our family through secondary biologies, but then I came across an article that said almost all male Omegas have a mutant in their family tree. So I started researching mutants and it sort of spiraled from there into a --”

{{AUTHORS NOTE: This fic will include themes of racism towards mutants and will reference things such as WW2 concentration camps and past treatment of different religious/ethnic/indigenous groups at the hands of the government. It is talked about in a “It was terrible what they did back then” sort of way, and as the fic continues, I will try and TW anything notable with in the chapters so you can avoid/skip as needed}}

Peter stopped when Johnny and Harry shared very uncomfortable looks, and Gwen’s eyes widened in alarm. “...what?”

“Pete.” Gwen cleared her throat, visibly thinking through her words before speaking. “Uh… the mutant thing isn’t really… I mean, people don’t talk about that, you know? No one talks about it. Maybe steer away from that when you do you family tree.”

“What?”

“There used to be a lot of hostility towards mutants.” Johnny said slowly. “And even though they aren’t around anymore, people still get up in arms about it. Hundreds of people died in the mutant uprisings through the last century. My grandpa died in one of those riots, Pete.”

“I know he did, Johnny.” Peter tilted his head and trilled comfortingly at the Alpha. “And I’ve come across some pretty horrifying accounts of what happened on both sides of those fights. I’ve read about mutants in the camps during World War II, I’ve read about different battles across the country, the riots in the seventies-- I’ve read it all.”

“Well, a lot of people think the mutant population is better off gone.” Harry spoke up then. “And no one wants to talk about it. It’s one thing to take on big companies who are ruining the earth, but the mutant control they enacted in the forties and fifties… there’s still people around that would take serious offense to you digging around in that. It’s better off left alone.”

“I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes.” Peter waved off their concerns. “I’m trying to uncover anything, I’m looking for some answers about my own family tree and that’s it. Male Omegas being the last of what we could consider mutants is pretty interesting, but I’m not looking for anything inflammatory, just my own history. I’ll be fine.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful.” MJ worried at her bottom lip. “I know what it means to look for who you are, Pete. Being adopted means I don’t know anything about my family and I understand wanting to look, but a connection to mutants…that’s not great, Tiger. You don’t want that, or at least you don’t want to make a big deal about it.”

“I’ll be fine.” Peter repeated, slinging his bag over his shoulder and blowing kisses to his friends. “Thank you for the drinks and the little party, Gwen, thank you for your present. I’ll talk to you guys in the morning?”

There was no reason to worry his friends with more details about this particular project. They didn’t need to know Peter’s research had skewed far past ‘ancestry’ and deep into concerning accounts of brutality and forced assimilation. They’d hate if they knew Peter had found scattered stories about experimentation and what scientists had done in a horrifying attempt to advance science, about schools that were more like prisons and prisons that were more like concentration camps right here in their own country.

Peter had found hints of a settlement near the Canadian border thought to be a mutant village that had rallied and revolted, attacking a military installation, and killing every soldier, every woman and child. But worse were the hints Peter found about the same settlement, hints that said it had been less of a revolt and more of a massacre, less of an uprising and more of a slaughter, that the women and children had been taken from the village and held captive and the attack was an attempt at a rescue.

It was horrifying, stomach turning, the sort of thing Peter couldn’t just leave alone--

--and then among the scraps and barely there information about the village had been a picture of a man who looked so much like him it was almost terrifying, and Peter’s growing interest in the project had taken an abrupt turn towards obsessive.

There were blood stained secrets in the wilds near the border, secrets that involved someone related to Peter, and he fully intended to find out every single one.

******************

“Journal, check. Extra battery for my camera, check. Couple of changes of clothes, check. Hotel itinerary, check.” Peter muttered to himself as he packed a backpack. “Ibuprofen, check. Phone charger, check. Digital recorder, check. Gwen’s terrible romance novel in case I get bored, check. Toiletries, check--”

His doorbell rang and interrupted his packing, and the Omega wrinkled his nose in annoyance. He’d told the Alphas he was busy, Aunt May never came around without calling first, it had better not be the maintenance guy finally showing up to fix the leaky faucet at eight at night. “Hold on a minute!” Peter finally called when the bell dinged again. “Give me just a second to get-- Oh. Mary Jane.”

Peter checked down the hall to see if anyone else had come along with the redhead. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I would have called, but my phone is dead. Can I use your charger?” MJ pushed right past Peter and into the apartment, holding up a bag of Peter’s favorite take out as she went. “I kept thinking about you drinking that champagne alone and that drove me crazy so I stopped and got food and came to share the bubbly.”

“You’re very sweet.” Peter stepped close to the other Omega and brushed his nose across her cheek, smiling when she trilled softly and returned the gesture. “I’m not doing much, so dinner and champagne sounds great. Thank you.”

“Are you already working on your new project?” MJ’s coat landed over a chair as she went right for the champagne. “Or have you started that book Gwen got you? I swear Pete, would it kill you to do some relaxing outside your apartment? All you ever do is work and--”

The pretty redhead paused when she caught sight of the half packed backpack, her gaze sharpening in curiosity. “--Pete? Where are you going? You didn’t say anything about leaving when he had lunch today.”

“Yeah.” Peter scratched at the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Yeah, um about that. I’m heading for upstate tomorrow, gonna do a little hiking and poke around up by one of the lakes. Some rest and relaxation, you know? I won’t be gone more than a few days.”

“Uh-huh.” Mary Jane narrowed her eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well I mean--” Peter tried for casual, trying to make his friend laugh and hopefully distract her. “Remember the last time one of us tried to leave town for a mini vacation?”

“Mm-hmm, Gwen was going to road trip to visit her Nana and we all ended up crammed in her Subaru and driving to Disney World.” Mary Jane picked up the legal pad full of Peter’s notes and read through the first few lines. “I vividly remember having to sit on Johnny’s lap the entire time-- Pete, this is all notes about mutants. Why do you have all these, you said it wasn’t that big of a project, just an ancestry thing.”

Damn it. “Yep.” Peter shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “That's-- that’s what I said.”

“Then what is all this?” Mary Jane flipped through a few more pages. “Newspaper clippings and quotes and what’s this, a piece from an old book? What happened to researching your family tree?”

“I... was.” Peter hedged, taking the legal pad from her hands. “I was researching. But then it turned into something else.”

“Something else what.” MJ prompted. “Why are you so interested in mutants all the sudden? Where’s the mystery in it, Pete? They used to exist and now they don’t, and every book you pick up is going to tell you the same thing--mutants disappeared in the seventies and no one knows what happened.”

“Someone has to know what happened, MJ.”

“Well.” The Omega huffed. “Sure someone has to know, but this is like chasing aliens. Everyone has accepted that mutants don’t exist anymore, and the people who haven’t accepted it get treated like they’re crazy until they get overly nosy and irritating and get visits from men in black suits. Is that what you want? To have everyone think you’re nuts?”

“Doesn’t the visit from men in black suits prove there’s something they’re trying trying to hide?” Peter pointed out with a small smile. “And yeah, I read all the books MJ. I tracked down newspaper articles, I’ve done my research on the claims the tabloids print about super powered humans and dangerous mutants. I know it’s crazy and I know--” he blew out a deep breath. “-- I know working on this could cost me every bit of credibility my last article gave me. I know that.”

“Then why are you risking it?” Mary Jane gestured to his bag, to the stack of information. “Don’t you remember Doctor Connors from a few years ago? He got hooked on research about mutants and genetic experimentation and ended up in a padded cell, screaming about turning into a lizard and regrowing limbs. All his research has been trashed, the books he’s written discredited, and everyone thinks his mental state was so compromised that his previous findings can’t be trusted. That could happen to you, Pete.”

“It know it could, but I have to find out anyway.” Peter shrugged helplessly and Mary Jane threw her hands up in frustration. “I gotta find answers about this. If there’s a mutant in my family tree somewhere, I have to know who they are.”

“This is about what happened at lunch.” MJ suddenly realized. “When we were talking about you missing out on something because you don’t have any interest in relationships. You got this real awful expression on your face. What's wrong, and what does it have to do with mutants?”

Peter looked at his friend for a long long moment, and then finally asked, “Do you know what it’s like to wake up every morning and grieve for something you don’t know you’re missing? It’s something essential from your core, from your very center of being, and you can’t even breathe for lack of it, but you don’t know what it is.”

Mary Jane only blinked at him, and Peter sighed, dropping onto the couch and putting his face in his hands. “I feel like that every day, MJ. It started after I lost my parents and it got worse when I had to move schools and a worse again when I moved out of May and Ben’s to get my own place. I have a great life, you know? I have great friends and a wonderful career-- I mean hell, I won an award today. Because of my work, those slums will be bulldozed and Hammer Tech has to pay to build quality housing for their workers. I did that, and I’m very proud of it.”

Peter tapped at his chest. “But I’m still empty. Hollow. Something is missing from me and lately it’s been getting worse. I’m hardly sleeping, I can’t concentrate, I’ve lost like fifteen pounds cos I can’t make myself eat. I think I’m depressed but why would I be depressed?” and then with a self deprecating laugh. “I’d say I’m in love and needing my Alpha, but I’ve never been in love in my life.”

“Oh, Tiger.” MJ clicked her tongue sympathetically and joined Peter on the couch, budging close and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’m so sorry.”

“This is why I became a reporter.” Peter suddenly sounded tired, exhausted really, more weary than Mary Jane had ever heard. “I’m looking for something in my life and being a reporter means I get to go places and meet people and research and maybe one day I’ll figure out what’s gonna fill this void inside me. I love you so much, MJ, but it’s not friendship I need. And before you say anything about me needing a bond, I am telling you--”

Peter actually shuddered as he said the words. “I am telling you, the thought of mating with any of our Alphas makes me want to run away. Gwen is perfect and Harry is gorgeous and Johnny is hilarious, they are all amazing Alphas, amazing people and would be amazing mates, but I can’t be with them. They aren’t enough, they’re almost...they’re almost boring. I’m bored with them.”

“You’re bored.” Mary Jane echoed, clearly not understanding but trying her best to be supportive. “What does that mean?”

“You know why I read those terrible romance novels?” Peter offered her a wobbly smile. “Because those characters are completely fulfilled by whatever they find, whether it’s a life they didn’t know they wanted or a romance with someone unexpected or an adventure they didn’t think they were ready for. They are content and I don’t think I’ve ever been content. It’s like there’s a piece of me out there that I can’t get a hold of and until I find it, I can’t rest. I can’t rest, MJ. I’m just running in place, breaking my own heart over something I don’t understand.”

“And you think the thing you’re missing has something to do with this settlement up North?” She clarified. “Why do you think that?”

Peter chewed at the inside of his cheek for a few seconds, then reached into his pack for a folded photograph and passed it over. “Because of this.”

The other Omega studied the grainy picture for a minute before her mouth fell open in an ‘o’. “Pete, when is this photo from? This guy could almost be you, is this your great grandfather?”

“I don’t know.” Peter admitted. “I’ve traced my family history back as far as I can trying to find him but there’s a point about a hundred and fifty years ago where the family split and the tree gets real messy in some spots and very blank in others. But when I was looking into the Haven settlement by the border, I found this picture in the very bottom of an old box of newspaper clippings and--”

“-- you think whoever this person is, he’s in your family tree somewhere.” Mary Jane guessed. “And if he was in the village upstate, then he was most likely a mutant and that’s why you’re chasing this story so hard.”

“It’s a part of my past.” Peter ran careful fingers over the time yellowed photograph. “And maybe understanding more about the time period and more about who this person is could help me understand myself.”

He placed the picture back and shook his head ruefully. “I know I sound crazy. And I’m definitely grasping at straws. This is probably nothing more than a coincidence but it also could be really important and as crazy as it sounds?” Peter waited for Mary Jane to meet his eyes. “MJ, this is as close to feeling whole as I’ve ever been. The search for answers is keeping me up at night but it feels good, it feels like I’m finally on the right path. I don’t even have words for how relieved I am every time I find something else. It’s just-- it’s just--”

“Sometimes when our souls are involved, it’s more than words can say.” Mary Jane offered simply. “That’s what Ma says when she talks about how she and Pop fell in love. It was their souls recognizing each other, and there isn’t any words for how incredible it is. If this project is pulling at your soul, then no wonder you can’t let it go.”

“Yeah.” Peter managed a smile. “It’s my soul. My soul is relieved every time I get a little bit closer to figuring this out, so I can’t stop looking. I won’t.”

“And I don’t think you should.” Mary Jane handed Peter a few more notes from the table. “If this is what you’re called to do, then do it. I’ll support you, Tiger.”

“I love you.” Peter breathed out shakily and leaned into his friend’s arms. “Thank you. I’m sorry, I know this was supposed to be food and champagne and then I got all intense and--”

“Stop.” MJ hushed him, petting through Peter’s thick hair and purring softly until he went limp against her. “The food and champagne will keep. Let’s just hold each other for a while.”

Despite Peter’s insistence that life was better with suppressants and blockers, that Omegas were better off not having their hormones and scents control their emotions, there was something to be said for the way two Omegas could connect and bond and soothe each other.

Mary Jane always scented like sweet peaches and spicy ginger and Peter tucked his nose into the crook of her neck and breathed in deep as the Omega’s scent flooded rich with comfort and affection and MJ only trilled in approval when Peter stretched out on the couch and brought her down onto his chest so their suppressant muted scents could mingle for a while, calming them both.

“You won’t do anything reckless up at the camp site, will you?” Mary Jane asked sometime later and Peter shifted beneath her until he could tangle his fingers in her long hair, tugging at the strands idly. “Pete? Promise me you won’t do anything crazy.”

“I won’t do anything crazy.” Peter promised.

“Take some bear spray.”

“MJ, I’m not taking--”

“Take some bear spray, Pete.”

“Fine.” Peter kissed the top of her head. “I’ll take some bear spray.”

“Thank you.”

Only after Mary Jane had closed her eyes and snuggled close again did Peter glance over at his phone when it lit up for the third time in just a few minutes.

He had joined a chat group and message board several weeks ago, one dedicated to asking questions about mutants and Peter had asked a lot of questions. He had an entire list of things he had to know, and he sat up for hours every night reading answers and threads and following links and taking notes.

And then finally, sort of suddenly really, someone named Nathan Summers had contacted Peter privately, promising answers to some of the harder questions.

Peter had told him about the village up North and Nathan had known immediately what he was talking about. Nathan had suggested they meet up and walk the site together, Peter had only hesitated for a second before agreeing.

He had to know.

Peter’s phone lit up with another message from Nathan right then, probably double checking what time they were going to meet at the hotel tomorrow, and Peter swallowed back a flash of trepidation as he reached with one hand to type a message back.

This was probably a terrible idea, but he wasn’t going to turn back now.

He had to know.

**************

It took nearly five and a half hours to make it to the hotel Peter had booked, and he only stopped long enough to check in and drop off his computer before getting back in the car and continuing North.

The supposed camp site was two hours off the highway, down a dirt road and nearly running into Lake Haven in some areas, skirting the edge of the mountain very closely at others. Peter craned his neck to take in as much as he could see without driving off the increasingly sketchy road, looking for signs or landmarks or anything that resembled the less than rudimentary maps he’d found.

Winter warped the landscape here every single year, avalanches wiping away trees and displacing huge pieces of mountain, the rains flooding in the spring and summer washing away roads and swelling rivers until they jumped their banks and created new pathways. A dam built twenty-something years ago had created a lake where there hadn’t been one before and dried out a previously hidden valley and Peter knew he could be on a wild goose chase. The odds of finding anything resembling ruin or evidence of a village were slim anyway, but after a hundred and fifty years everything he was looking for could be hidden under water or swept under a mudslide or a rockslide or shit, New York even had tornadoes, it could have been a tornado--

“Oh thank God.” Peter breathed a sigh of relief when he finally made it around a final corner and into what was left of the parking lot of an old campground. The State had tried to make this area close to the border more accessible to the public, but no one came this far North without wanting to see Ontario or continuing West to the falls or just skipping the border to get into Canada, so the dozen or so installed campgrounds had fallen to ruin.

Thankfully this one still had a mostly paved parking lot and what looked like permanent outhouses, and since Peter knew no one would randomly stumble onto his car here, he felt perfectly safe leaving it locked as he hefted his backpack and took off hiking into the woods.

He was supposed to meet Nathan tonight at the hotel, so Peter had most of the afternoon to explore around the river and into the forest. The village was rumoured to be on the other side of the lake and he certainly wouldn’t make it that far today, but he could at least find a way through the forest so tomorrow hiking with Nathan would be easier.

“Tell me your secrets.” Peter murmured as he reached to touch a nearly faded plaque marking the site as one of historical significance. “I want to know everything.”

Curiosity and the cat, right?

Peter lost himself for hours wandering around the massive trees, ducking under low hanging branches and climbing up and over boulders, stopping to take pictures as he went.

It seemed impossible that anyone could have survived here without machinery to clear a path, without lights to chase the shadows from the looming forest. How did they get water? How did they get supplies? Had the mutants considered themselves American and went to the Fort for supplies or did they cross the border and head further North? Was it a terrible life, a difficult life like the stories of settlers out West? Did they even speak English or was there a mutant language that had ceased to exist like so many other indigenous dialects?

Peter had so many questions, hundreds and hundreds of questions and he wanted to know everything and yet he found himself slowing, lingering, just looking as the urgency of it all faded away into awe and appreciation for the land around him.

It was beautiful up here, wild and open and Peter stopped just to tip his head back and breathe. He’d never noticed how polluted the city was until right now, hadn’t realized how loud traffic could be until he couldn’t hear anything but the birds and the hum of insects and the wind swooping through the trees. The sunlight filtered through branches in patches, lighting some areas golden and covering others in shade and if Peter tilted his head and listened, if he breathed deep and stretched his senses he could almost feel the lake close by.

It was beautiful and peaceful and Peter thought maybe a bit of his soul settled as he leaned back against the sun warmed surface of a big rock and closed his eyes.

Why did this feel so good?

Peter wished he’d thought to bring a tent just so he wouldn’t have to leave, but this time of year night came quickly, bringing the cold right along with it and with the sun already dipping in the sky, Peter had no choice but to leave the unexpected sanctuary of the woods and head towards his car. The road had been barely passable in the daylight and he couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be in the dark, and Nathan would be waiting at the hotel restaurant here in a few hours, so he really had to go.

Still, it almost hurt to leave and Peter touched the plaque again as he passed, lingering over the letters for a long moment and--

“You’re Parker?” a sudden voice from the gathering shadows, low, gravelly and frightening. “Peter, right? I didn’t expect you to be an Omega.”

“Holy shit--” Peter whirled around, clutching at the can of bear spray MJ had demanded he bring along. “Who’s there? Who are you?”

And then almost as an afterthought, “How do you know I’m an Omega? I’m wearing scent blockers and it’s half dark outside.”

“I can smell it on you.” A shadow darker than the others separated and Peter caught a flash of Alpha red eyes from beneath a hood. “Those scent blockers you use only work on tamer Alphas. One like me can sniff out your biology without even trying.”

“Ooookay. Well fair’s fair with that so if you don’t mind--” Peter swallowed a little and leaned in towards the stranger, flaring his nostrils and trying to gather as much of the Alpha’s scent as he could.

But the Alpha reeked of blood and burning, of metallic and copper and smoke and when Peter sucked in a sharp breath ready to scream, the Alpha interrupted, “It’s not blood, Parker. It’s metal. Just metal and smoke is what you’re scenting. Don’t panic.”

“You’re-- you’re Nathan Summers?” Peter bit at his lip and shifted nervously on his feet, hoping his suppressants were still working enough to choke the fear drenching his scent. Fuck this had been a bad idea. “You said we would meet at the hotel, what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“That doesn't matter.” A flare of a match and the end of a cigar lit cherry red between them. “And the name’s Cable. Haven’t been Nathan Summers in a long while now.”

“It absolutely matters how you found me.” The Omega tried for a bravery he didn’t feel. “And alright Cable, you said you had some solid information for me, so I want it. It’s getting cold and dark and you’re wasting my time. What do you know?”

“Mouthy little shit.” Cable might have chuckled, but it came out almost a growl. “Omegas always have too much attitude. I know you’re scared, I can smell it on you. You’re still gonna try and be a smart ass?”

“Well I--”

“You’re gonna stop looking into the meta humans.” Cable interrupted. “Your little project doesn’t exist anymore, alright? I had to get you face to face to make sure you weren’t a real threat, and now I’m telling you to stop looking into the meta humans.”

“Meta--” Peter cleared his throat, his damned curiosity and the ache in his heart telling him to keep asking. “Meta humans. Is that what you called the mutants? Why meta? Are you saying the mutants have super powers? Or powers in general? I’ve only heard about physical mutations and there are a few recorded cases of feats of strength but--”

“You’re not listening, kid.” Cable took a deep drag on the cigar and blew the smoke out over Peter’s head. “Stop asking questions, stop posting online, stop your research. Nothing involving meta humans ends well and you do not want the type of trouble this will bring. Back off, little Omega. Run along home.”

“Go back to the meta human thing.” Peter ignored the flare of annoyance over being called little Omega and squinted in the dark when he caught a glimpse of something gleaming along Cable’s shoulder. “Just tell me yes or no. Powers? What about the settlement here, was it actually an uprising that brought the Army after them? It had to be an uprising if you’re talking about people with super powers, can you tell me if--?”

“You’re trying my patience.” Cable grunted and turned further from Peter’s view. “This is your last warning kid. Stop digging around or I can’t be responsible for what comes knocking on your door. We’ve stayed hidden a long time just trying to live our lives, I’m not going to let some nosy Omega screw it up.”

“No no wait!” There were a hundred things Peter should have done right then-- and all of them involved running away-- but instead Peter lunged forward and grabbed onto Cable’s left arm as the man started to walk away “Tell me! Tell me what’s going on! I’m tired of never getting a straight answer with these things and I have to know, you don’t understand I have to know--”

Peter had only a split second to realize he wasn’t feeling flesh but machinery under his fingers, and then a split second more to register an ear splitting noise like grinding gears before Cable flung him into the trees.

Peter screamed as he went flying through the air, nearly bit his tongue in half when he smacked into a tree trunk, and lay there crumpled and stunned for a full minute.

Machinery, the scent of blood, the weird clicking, the way Cable called them meta humans and not mutants and talked about--

“--We’ve lived a long time just trying to live our lives.”

Our lives.

Cable was a mutant and he’d just thrown Peter twenty feet without even trying.

Oh my god, I could die tonight.

“I didn’t mean to do that.” Cable was suddenly in front of Peter, over Peter, crouching down and reaching to check that the Omega hadn’t broken anything in the fall. “I know you’re just a kid and don’t mean to cause trouble but--”

He stopped talking when panic turned the air bitter, and the Alpha covered his mouth when he gagged at the stench. “Parker, what--”

“Your arm.” Peter’s eyes were very wide, his face very pale in the dimming light and Cable muffled a curse when he realized his hood and cloak had fallen away. “What the hell happened to your arm?”

“It’s a long story.” Cable rotated the mechanism, grimacing over the grind of gears and the tug and pull of metal along his shoulder, up his neck and into his skull. “And one you don’t want to know. You think the rest of the world wants to hear about this? You think people want to know I'm walking around in the shadows?”

“I--I--I--” Peter’s eyes darted from the mutant’s face to the metal at his arm, up to the eerie glow of one robotic eye and the flashing red of Alpha in the other. “How-- oh my god--”

“I don’t even want to be like this.” Cable said then and he sounded bone weary, patting at a disc shaped object on the strap around his chest. “Kid, no one wants this. Whatever you are looking for up here? Let it go. Just-- Just let it go.”

“I can’t.” Peter whispered and the Alpha’s expression flickered in what looked like resignation and maybe even understanding. “I gotta know and you-- you gotta help me.”

“I’m not going to help you.”

“But you have to!” Peter’s eyes dropped to watch when Cable touched that same disc again. “Why else would you come all the way up here?”

“I came up here to warn you-- HEY!” Cable shouted in alarm when the Omega darted forward and snatched the disc away, kicking Cable right in the face before taking off running into the woods. “Goddammit Parker! Get back here right now! You don’t know what that thing is!”

“Then tell me!” Peter cried as he fled. “Is this a mutant thing? Or a meta human thing? What is it? I want answers!”

“Stop with the endless questions and just give me the damn device!” Cable muttered a curse when the Omega only picked up speed, swerving towards the parking lot. “No! No you fool! Give that back right now, you have no idea what you’re messing with!”

Peter was gone though, sprinting through the trees towards the lights of the campground, the device clutched tight in his hand. He was almost to his car, almost to safety, almost there almost there almost there--

--It was like hitting a brick wall, and Peter screamed as he jolted to a stop, his entire body forced to stillness abruptly enough to make his head hurt and his fists clench, pain washing through his core.

“What?” Peter tried to make his feet move, tried to make his hands move, tried to do anything but he was utterly trapped and as Cable marched up to him with one hand held out and a furious red glint in his one human eye, Peter knew it was the mutant Alpha’s doing. “Wh-what is this? How are you doing this?”

“There are a thousand things in this world you cannot begin to understand.” Cable said shortly. “And believe it or not, I’m not even close to the worst of them. Hand me that device slowly and I’ll let you go. Slow and easy, kid. No one needs to get hurt, alright?”

“No one needs to get hurt?” Peter repeated, the words coming thick through honey, his tongue not quite working right. “You’re chasing me through the woods and threatening me and I’m supposed to think you’re not going to hurt me?”

“You’re messing with things you will never understand, and I’m not going to let you ruin lives because you can’t stop asking questions.” Cable held out his free hand and snapped his fingers. “My patience is gone, so here it is. We’ve got two options-- I keep you suspended so you can’t run and you hand me that thing willingly, or I rip you in half to get to it. What’s it going to be?”

Peter didn’t answer though, and after a moment Cable snapped his fingers again. “What’s it going to be?”

“...is this supposed to be ticking?” Peter asked very very quietly, holding up the disc as it began to glow. “Because-- because it started ticking a few seconds ago. What’s happening?”

“Oh god dammit--” Cable dropped the hold on Peter and lunged for the Omega, lunged for his device but a second before his fingers made contact, the ticking stopped.

“No no no no---!”

A flash of bright light, the acrid scent of smoke and when Cable stumbled to a stop, both the Omega and the device were gone.

Gone.

“Oh no.” The mutant dragged both his hands through his silvering hair and groaned. “What have I done?”

*****************

1872

The early morning frost crunched beneath Wade’s feet as he stalked through the woods, heavy boots breaking branches and kicking stones out of the way, three or four rabbits hanging limp over his broad shoulders, a rifle held securely in hand.

This time of year the bears tended to be fat and lazy so the Alpha wasn’t too concerned about disturbing one of them, but he’d seen mountain lion tracks outside his cabin the other morning and again last night, and the big cats were a different sort of danger altogether. Wade kept his eyes sharp as he scanned the trees and bushes along his path for anything feline, kept his nose to the air so he’d catch anything dead that would attract the predators, and kept his rifle ready just in case.

Sometimes fangs and brute strength just weren’t enough to keep a man alive in this wilderness.

Wait. The Alpha stopped in his tracks when the air tinged with a scent that didn’t belong-- smoky and burnt and brimming with panic, but beneath all that was the thready scent of Omega and that-- well that wasn’t right at all.

What the hell was an Omega doing all the way out here?

“Oh shit.” Wade dropped his gear abruptly when he saw a form at the base of a tree, an Omega laying limp in the frost like he’d been dropped from the sky and left for dead. “Shit shit shit, how did you get here?”

Wade ran careful hands up the Omega’s legs to feel for broken bones, pressed gingerly to check for busted ribs, glanced at and then away from the unmarked bonding spot and reached for the Omega’s chin to tip his head back and --

“Oh.” The Alpha gulped when he got a clear look at the Omega’s features, thick hair and freckle dusted skin and gorgeous lips, dark eyes fluttering open in confusion and fear and Wade automatically rumbled something soft at the Omega, murmuring “Hey, shhh. It’s okay. I dunno what you’re doing here, but I got you, okay? I’ve got you. Let’s get you off the ground, come here.”

The pretty thing didn’t weigh enough to matter and Wade lifted the Omega without any effort at all, but when the Alpha got a nose full of heady lavender and sweet honeysuckle scent, his knees buckled and nearly sent them both pitching back to the forest floor.

“Oh.” Wade wheezed, hazel eyes snapping red and a growl working in his throat as the Omega scent filled his senses and left him reeling, stumbling. “Oh fuck--”

“Mmmm.” The Omega was barely conscious but he still turned and tucked his nose tighter to Wade’s chest. “...smell...good…”

“Damn it.” Wade automatically held the Omega tighter, helpless against his biology’s sudden call of protect, and more worrisome, the soul echoing claim of mine. “Where did you come from Omega?”

There was no answer, the Omega slipping unconscious again and the Alpha swallowed hard, barely able to form the words to ask. “And how long will it be before Cable comes back for you?”

*****************

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soyforramen · 4 years

Text

Are YOU the babysitter?

“Veronica?” Jughead slurred, his hand swaying as he pointed towards her. “Are you the babysitter?”

He shifted forward, off balance, and Betty stumbled. She shifted his arm further down her neck, praying this was the right apartment. Jughead cackled, a strange sound of glee.

“Charming,” Veronica said dryly. She opened the door and stepped back. “And you must be Betty.”

“Hi,” Betty grunted. “This is Kevin and Fred.”

She half-dragged, half-walked Jughead towards the couch. Behind her Kevin helped a far more lucid Fred. As she crossed the threshold the stench of camphor incense attacked her and she fought back a sneeze.

“Should I ask what happened?” Veronica drolled.

“Penny Peabody and the flaming disaster,” Jughead said, his head lolling back and forth.

“We got ambushed,” Fred clarified.

When they reached the couch, Jughead refused to let her go. Betty tumbled on top of him, unable to break his grip. At Veronica’s sly look, Betty fought to extricate herself without too much embarrassment; unfortunately, she fell to the floor. Disheveled and covered in ash she yanked out her hair tie and pulled it up into a messy bun as she glared at him.

Veronica cooed something in a language Betty didn’t recognize, but from Jughead’s snort it was obvious he knew what she’d said.

“Be nice,” he said. He pointed to Betty. “She is.”

Betty blushed and stood, purposefully ignoring Kevin’s gleeful look.

“Do I want to know what you did to him?” Before Betty could protest her innocence, Veronica held up a hand. “I’m sure he deserved whatever it was, I would just like to know to sate my professional curiosity.”

Betty knew Jughead kept more underground company than just her and Archie, but she’d been lead to believe he was, for the most part, a loner. And yet he’d trusted Veronica enough to direct Betty to call her and ask for refuge, even in this state.

As if reading her mind, Veronica held out her hand. “Priestess of Delphi, Cassandra, Sibyl of Cumae - despite what Dante claimed there was no sexual ecstasy in reading his future or his person -, Saint Hildegard of Bingen. Just a few names I’ve gone by. But you can call me Veronica.”

Betty hoped Veronica couldn’t tell how badly her hand tremored as they shook hands. Those names were only heard in whispered prayers. Such a famed prophetess had been chalked up to fairytales and children’s nursery rhymes. Betty herself had put the fabled woman in the same make-believe category as Bigfoot, pixies, and ever getting the last of streaks off the windows. To be in such a presence…

“Do tell. What spell did you cast to make our dear Forsythe fall all over himself? I’ve seen stronger witches than you try and fail.”

“A basic protection circle,” Betty stammered. “Though I might have gone too heavy on the -“

“Cedar? Vampires are naturally adverse, though it does little to explain him. Gaelic, Egyptian, or -“

“A mix of Incan and Shinto. It’s something I’ve been working on but I didn’t ever think I’d have to use it against a demon. My intentions were more for physical harm, bullets, assaults -“

“-and trains by the look of it. Did you tweak the structure or the -“

“Both, actually, and I’m wondering whether it was using the North Wind instead of the South to bind it -“

“-which would explain his intoxicated idiocy-“

“-or whether it’s because I used oxen spit instead of sow’s blood-“

“What about the binding? Did you use -“

Kevin cleared his throat and the pair turned to him. Veronica looked irritated to have been interrupted, but Betty realized Fred was looking whiter by the minute. As she rummaged through her satchel, Veronica leaned against the couch.

“How in this universe were you able to draw it so quickly? It takes me ages to prepare the lines.”

“You’ve got spiders in your windows,” Jughead said lightly. “They’ll have made you curtains by tomorrow.”

“Oh that’s simple enough,” Betty said, ignoring his aside. She reached further into her bag and pulled out a rolled piece of plastic no bigger than a cutting board. She passed it to Veronica, and when it was unfurled it cast long, strange shapes on the carpet. “I cut it beforehand and then spray the mix on it when I need it. The spraycan’s preloaded so all I have to do is make sure -“

“Ladies, this is fascinating, but I’m in a metered spot,” Kevin cut in. He turned to Fred and in a faux whisper said, “I swear, she’s always like this. Get her talking about magic minutiae and she’ll go on for hours.”

Despite his pallid skin, Fred wore an amused smile.

This time, Betty and Veronica both blushed. While Betty went about crushing herbs, Veronica went out of the room to fetch a spoon and a glass of water. Handing both off to Betty, she turned to Fred.

“And who are you, again?”

“Fred Andrews. Archie’s father. I’d stand, but,” he motioned to his head, still a mat of blood and hair.

Veronica shook her head. “Quite understandable after the beating you both took. But how were you ambushed? I thought were’s were nigh impossible to sneak up on.”

“A lesser demon made a deal with the devil,” Jughead sang out from the couch. He began to sing the phrase to himself, and Betty pressed his hand to quieten him.

“I suppose that explains it. What’s harder to explain is how we’re going to treat those burns.”

“Aloe root, marijuana, and rosewater,” Betty said. She scooped the mixture into the glass and stirred. “It’s never been tested on a wound made by a demon, but -“

“It’s a brilliant mixture for burns, none the less. There may be a grimoire somewhere that deals with that sort of thing, though it’s been an age since I’ve had to heal anyone,” Veronica said. She opened a locked cabinet neatly filled with jars, powders, and leather bound papers. “Not that it’s a pleasure to meet you, but why is the human here?”

Kevin shot Veronica a dark look.

“He’s been my best friend since we were born,” Betty said.

“Practically her familiar,” Kevin added.

Jughead threw a cushion in his direction. It sailed the wrong way in the room, narrowly missing a lamp.

“Manners, Torombolo, that’s a turn of the century Tiffany’s and I hate to see it ruined by your jealousy.”

Standing, Betty handed the glass to Fred. “I’ve never made anything for a were before, or even for anybody other than a witch or human. But, in theory, it should work -“

“Her potions always work,” Kevin corrected, “in theory and in reality.”

Betty preened at the praise. Fred took a sip and cringed.

“I’ve had worse,” he said when Betty tried to take it from him. “Cheers.”

In one go, he’d finished the potion. Soon after his eyes closed and a light snore was heard.

“Found it!” Veronica trilled.

She set the large book down on the table and directed Fred to go lay down in one of the closed rooms to rest. With Jughead still humming the strange tune, Veronica and Betty got to work with Kevin acting as their aide.

#bughead drabble challenge #idk i love the idea of b&v collaborating no matter what so #this got wildly longer than i anticipated

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jemej3m · 4 years

Text

radio silence (chapter 2: andrew and aaron)

andrew starts taking his medication and aaron hates it just as much as his brother does, especially seeing as the pills wont even let him say it

(heavy tw for mentions of matricide, canon-typical violence, sexual assault (thanks giving, andrew’s perspective), medication and drake’s murder)

Andrew supposed he’d deserved it when Aaron went silent on him after Tilda died and Andrew forcefully shut Aaron into the bathroom of their new place to get clean, but it was still never silent.

There was always someone there at the other end of the line. Someone breathing down the phone, waiting to hear whatever you said. It was comforting only because it was all Andrew had ever known, unable to fathom what it was like to be completely alone.

When Andrew had been forced onto his medication after his perhaps over-enthusiastic response to Nicky being pushed around by a bunch of assholes outside Eden’s, a new kind of buzzing filled his head.

Static. Grainy, grainy static. An external pressure, squeezing around his temples like his head was stuck in the clouds, thousands of miles above normal altitude. He hated the way it felt but there was nothing he could do about it, the grin curling on his lips without consent.

The first time Aaron had spoken to him in months was in the quiet of a dark kitchen. Nicky was asleep in his room. Andrew was making hot cocoa and unable to sleep because he’d taken his dosage too late. He’d noticed Aaron lingering by the kitchen’s entrance and refused to say anything, letting the false cheer dangle off the tip of his spoon as he watched droplets of hot cocoa slip off the aluminium surface, back into his mug. It’d long gone cold.

“I can’t hear you,” Aaron said, finally finding his spine to talk to his loony twin. “I can’t—reach out to you. It’s silent.”

“Well,” Andrew drawled, tempted to laugh. “Isn’t that a shame?”

“I hate it,” Aaron hissed, contradictory in every way. “We’ve never—we’ve never been apart before. I hate it. Can’t we—can’t you appeal?”

“Oh, Aaron,” Andrew lamented, hand over his heart. His brother’s vulnerabilities were cute, but there was no way Andrew would share his own. Not out loud. “You should go cry to someone who’s capable of caring. Because that person is definitely not me.” He grinned, arching an eyebrow.

“This isn’t you,” Aaron said, resolutely. As he paced back into the hallway, he repeated himself. “This isn’t you.”

Andrew simply laughed.

“On one condition,” Andrew said, pointing at Wymack and almost poking the old man in the chest. “My brother and cousin come on the team, too. And I get to come off my meds for games.”

Aaron startled. It was the first time Andrew had ever hinted that he, too, hated the loneliness.

When Kevin stumbled into Wymack’s apartment with a shattered hand, Andrew had laughed, pointing at him with a bottle of booze in his hand.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen!” He crowed. Kevin glared and did not laugh.

Pity. Aaron probably would’ve appreciated that.

Andrew, Aaron had whispered, sickeningly relieved as the curtain between them parted, their minds severed no more.

It would only be for another half hour or so, before Andrew had to take his dose at half time. He looked at his brother, watching the way relief wormed down Aaron’s spine and had him grip his racket harder.

It was their first game on the line. Most of the team hated Andrew and his merry band of monsters, of which had grown from three to four when Kevin promised Andrew that he would find him something to live for after his medicated euphoria eventually wore off. It was a lousy promise at best: Andrew had no disillusions about finding satisfaction in his life, and no desire to lie to himself either. Kevin’s miserable obsession with Exy couldn’t fill the gaping wound that’d been carved into Andrew’s chest the minute that Tilda left him in the plastic bucket of baby rejects.

The connection with Aaron strengthened as the withdrawal kicked up, sped up by the gruelling game. The Foxes lost, because of course they did, and Andrew faked a laugh to convince everyone in the arena that he wasn’t deviating from his parole.

Until next game, Aaron said, as Andrew swallowed the pills. He was too physically wretched to stifle the weak nod. Kevin looked between them, eyes narrowed. He’d probably figure it out, just like Nicky had a long while ago, but neither of them would say anything. It was best to just pretend that the twins hated each other, just like everyone else assumed.

Andrew was comfortable in the shadows of those assumptions. The four of them settled into the strange routine, dodging Riko and his Ravens and spending nights under the haze of cracker dust and alcohol.

Though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, he knew Aaron was counting down the days till Andrew could come off the medications.

He, admittedly, was too.

Andrew was suddenly glad that Aaron could not hear his loudest thoughts most of the time, when Neil Josten rocked up, a bundle of lies and a bigger bundle of threats.

He was brown haired and brown eyed and barely tall enough to fit all his too-intricate stories within, and yet there he was, able to tell the difference between him and Aaron immediately, running away from Columbia in a feverish demand for freedom, stood in Wymack’s living room with half-truths tolerable enough for Andrew to swallow.

If Aaron could hear the way Andrew’s mind twisted and turned over Neil Fucking Josten, he’d be mighty suspicious.

Worse was when Neil began asking. And Andrew let himself answer. Worse was the way Neil practised honesty enough to keep Andrew intrigued but continually lied like an animal licking a wound it should just leave alone.

Thanksgiving came and went.

The real nightmare was the weekend after.

Andrew had never grown used to the static, not in the four years he’d been medicated, especially not when he let his shield against the world drop occasionally, for games or for nights at Eden’s. It was enough that neither him, nor Aaron, really got used to the absence. The absess.

He walked up the stairs to where Luther had promised him liquor, opening the door to Nicky’s old bedroom. It was dark, curtains drawn and the rust on the lock suspiciously etched, like it’d been tested recently. If Andrew was capable of conjuring warning bells through the cloud that surrounded him, he’d be hearing them ringing like they did in a bad man’s chapel on a Sunday morning.

One moment, he was staring a fully-fledged nightmare, dead between the eyes. The next his bottle of Blue came careening through the air, and the trickle of liquid down Andrew’s scalp was a strange concoction of hot blood and iced spirits, glass shards just to make it interesting.

It was like a waltz. One, two, three. One, two, three. One: Hand around Andrew’s neck. Two: Whispered words in his ear. Three: Seconds Andrew had to contemplate why him, like he was thirteen again. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two—

“Andrew,” Aaron snarled, more terrified for Andrew than he was of himself. He’d always known exactly who Drake was, who the Spears were: He’d almost been there. He’d certainly heard every one of Andrew’s broken cadences, desperately searching for an out.

And yet there he stood, bloodied, with Neil’s racket in his hands and blood across his face. Andrew couldn't hear himself, not when he laughed, not when he demanded if the blood was Aaron’s, not when Luther appeared in the doorway clutching the silver cross that dangled across his throat.

Remember? Andrew laughed. Cackled. Remember when you insisted it was just a misunderstanding?

“He told you, and you still brought him here?” Aaron said, cold, furious. They were closer and more intricately woven than anyone knew, Andrew clutching onto Aaron’s bloodied shirt as Neil covered him up with a sheet, laughter still wracking his body like a bloody cough. “Get out. Get out!”

Wasn’t it just niche, the way everything worked out. Aaron was lugged off in police custody whilst Andrew was strapped to a stretcher, paramedics shining light into his eyes. He was still buzzing too high off the ground to reach out to Aaron and see if he was alright, because even if Andrew cared about nothing, Aaron’s survival was still imperative. He’d fought so long for it, after all.

Neil offered himself up as Kevin’s leash, like he wasn’t fulfilling that role already. He shoved Andrew’s hand under his shirt and gave him his true name and Andrew was spinning. He was dancing so close to the edge. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so fucking terrified of losing control all over again.

“You’re not going to say goodbye to Aaron?” Abby asked, when Betsy had filched him from the comfort of his room to take him to Easthaven.

“Can’t say goodbye if you never said hello in the first place,” Andrew said, cheerfully as he skipped his way to the front door. None of them would truly understand the significance of that statement, that Andrew and Aaron had never said hello, nor goodbye. There was no need if they never left you alone.

He ignored the way Neil watched him as he left, ignored the idle chatter Betsy filled the car with, ignored the introduction of his psychiatric team.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have taken more care. It was too late now.

Andrew, Aaron breathed, when the fogginess lifted perhaps two weeks later. He had no way of telling, really. Andrew had his head in a bucket, the smooth plastic his constant view. Aaron’s voice was—admittedly—a comfort. Andrew, are you alright?

You still behind bars? Andrew asked, craning his neck as he settled back into his stiff, unforgiving bed and its cold, unyielding sheets.

Matt’s mom paid my bail. We’re heading up to New York for Christmas as thanks.

You’re not telling me something.

Aaron made a derisive noise. Andrew was always the more perceptive one. Neil knows.

How.

He figured it out. I don’t know how. He told me to tell you not to let Proust near you before he left yesterday.

Left where?

Uncle was in town apparently. Wouldn’t look anyone in the eye.

Liar, through and through.

Be careful, Andrew. I have a hunch that Neil’s got privy information. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, but it seemed valid.

Thanks for the input, Andrew thought, sourly. Aaron snorted. Now, fuck off.

I hated the silence, Aaron offered.

Andrew stared silently out of the metal grate that covered his window, the bleak clouds and wind-swept trees.

As a form of peace offering with the only person who’d always been there for him, he said: Me too.

I’ve met a girl. Promise me you won’t hurt her.

I won’t if she gives me no reason to.

Her name is Katelyn. She makes me happy. Scare her off when you get back and I will tell everyone that you waited for months after our 11th birthday for your letter to Hogwarts.

Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t kill you first.

Andrew walked out of his room and down the familiar corridors of his ward, beady eyes peering out at someone who was walking free. He was directed by Dr. Whoeverthefuck, clipboard under his arm and a haughty expression scrawled across his narrow features.

There was a bit of talking. Nicky called out his name, concern obvious and sickening and too much. Kevin was evaluating, Neil was curious and Aaron just looked at him blankly, like he always did. They didn’t need expressions or emotions or even spoken words to communicate. It was just enough to be. So when Andrew marched straight for the exit and threw his ward-stay clothes in the bin, Aaron wasn’t phased, following along closely behind.

Andrew held out the keys for Neil, who passed them over without a qualm. Good. He didn’t feel like arguing with Neil now, when he felt scraped out and broken down into tiny little fragments. Neil said nothing, his garishly blue eyes darting between Aaron and Andrew, perhaps a little too obviously for Neil’s liking. He had a bandage under his eye and bruises littering what little exposed skin Andrew could see, the red curls falling in tresses over his ears.

Why are you looking at him like that? Aaron muttered, climbing into the car. Andrew turned away from Neil sharply, clambering into the driver’s seat and slamming it behind him.

He kept the music loud enough to drown out Aaron’s curious prodding, refusing to look in the rear-view where Neil was sat, looking wistfully out of the window. Even Nicky was quiet, unsure of how to approach Andrew when he hadn’t really spoken to the man sober in four and a half years.

The drive was too fast. Aaron shuffled Nicky and Kevin inside the tower with little more than a brief you should take a nap, or at least have some coffee, before you face the others, like Andrew was still a prickly toddler.

Neil wasn’t as easily swayed. He reached under the driver’s seat to grab his stalker binder, bound in a plastic bag, before Andrew even had the chance to move out of the way. He couldn’t say he minded the proximity, even when the way Neil looked at him when Andrew accused him of breaking his promise made his heart skip.

“I hope Aaron warned you off Proust,” Neil murmured. “Riko said if I didn’t go, he would—“

His hand covered Neil’s mouth before he could let another treacherous word past his lips. Andrew fucking hated him. He fucking hated him.

Proust had entered his room in the early hours of an average morning, smiling beseechingly. Andrew refused to talk to him, instead threatening the nurse that came in after Proust’s session that if he ever caught Proust in his vicinity again, he would break the man’s neck.

The doctor was kept well away from Andrew after that.

“I don’t need your protection, or your condolences.” He snapped.

“No, I suppose not.” He echoed. “Have you and Aaron always been able to hear one another? I thought it was an urban myth.”

“Shut up.” Andrew said, voice more of a snarl than he intended it to be. Neil was making his control slip and he hadn’t even been back for a half hour yet. “I hate you.”

“I know.” Neil said, easily.

i know theres a lot of lacking scenes from canon but its not about andrew and neil srry lmao its twinyards week for a reason (andreil worms its way in anyway, but i tried my best)

stay tuned for tomorroww!!

#andrew minyard #aaron minyard #twinyards appreciation week #telepathy au #day 2 prompt; andrew and aaron #andreil #kevin day #all for the game #jem writes

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cherryblossomwatts · 4 years

Note

12! I feel like they’re doing a lot of laying in spring grass right now ♥️

Tell me the way they said “I love you” (pick a number from this list)!

[15] [30]

WHEN WE LAY TOGETHER ON THE FRESH SPRING GRASS

“Wh,” Andrew splutters - giggles tearing out of him already, like Garrett’s stolen his heart right out of his chest - “Where did you get a picnic basket from?”

Garrett shushes him and tugs on his hand, their lunch dangling precariously in the crook of his elbow. “Come on, Andrew!” he says, all bubbly and golden. “Quarantine picnic!”

And Andrew has no choice but to let Garrett drag him along, following him outside, down the stairs of the deck, and tripping over his own feet as they walk across the lawn, and laughing the whole way. Garrett eventually stops in the middle of the backyard, spreading a quilt out in the sun and pulling them both down to sit on it.

“What’d you bring?” Andrew finds himself asking; smiling as the forest lilts and sways behind them, pine needles dancing in the wind and settling themselves on their checkered picnic blanket.

“Well,” Garrett says, in his “let’s-catch-up-with-Jesse-Wellens” voice that makes Andrew absolutely die, choke on catatonic laughter - and then cackle even harder as Garrett pulls a large bottle of vodka from the formerly innocent, now-tainted basket. He makes an intangible noise, his tongue lapsing as he struggles to express his sheer bewilderment (and utter delight) at Garrett’s behavior. Garrett winks at him as he goes to retrieve two glasses and a decanter of cognac from the wicker depths, and Andrew’s positively lost it, laughing so hard he can’t even sit up straight - leaning against Garrett for support.

He wheezes, gasps for breath.

These are the moments he lives for.

“So,” he eventually manage, voice already tired from disuse, “you brought... alcohol for lunch?”

“Of course I got booze, Andrew -”

“What will Mr. Randy Watts say, Garrett, when he finds out you’ve raided his liquor cabinet for the fiftieth time in your life -”

“Try thousandth,” Garrett says, laying the rest of the food out in front of them. Andrew’s relieved he actually brought something to soften the edge of the whiskey; he doesn’t like drinking on an empty stomach. “And don’t you worry, Andrew, I made us sandwiches.”

“What kind of sandwiches?”

“Bee sandwiches, you idiot, to match our bee-themed cottage,” Garrett exclaims, in his mock-outrage falsetto. “What did you expect?!” And Andrew howls with laughter at the ridiculousness of that statement, at the way Garrett says the words and then guffaws, throwing his head back and laughing at the utter silliness of such a concept with him.

They eat their lunch and drink enough to feel all lovely and warm, and afterwards, they lie down on the blanket, the field tickling their bare feet. Andrew is holding Garrett’s hand, and breathing in the bright Spokane air, his lungs filling further than they’ve ever expanded before.

He looks over at Garrett, who has fallen asleep with his face to the sky.

“I love you,” he says, as they lay together on the fresh spring grass - as his heart is so full, he can hardly bear it.

Garrett doesn’t hear him, but that’s alright. Andrew has more than enough time to tell him again.

#gandrew #garrett watts #andrew siwicki #ficlet #fanfiction #my writing #spokane #liv rants #an ask #anonymous

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nekojitachan · 4 years

Text

How to Steal a Million pt2

So, here’s another part of this story, no clue how many more (at least a few?). More Foxes appear! Yay!

Uhm, lots of bantering, very mild violence, some swearing, think that’s about it? Oh, and obvious some dubious life choices/actions here.

*******

“I mean, can you believe it?” Neil asked as he tugged on his bangs while seated on a stack of new tires in the middle of Matt’s garage while his friend worked on the Ferrari. “He keeps cackling about the damn postcards and ticket revenue and… and he’s insane!”

“Uhm, you know that those are your genes, right?” Matt’s deep voice drifted out from underneath the sports car, followed by a yelp when Neil gave his right calf a kick. “Hey! Not funny,” he complained as he scooted out from beneath the car, frowning face smeared with grease in a couple of spots and ridiculous hair covered by a bright orange bandana (also smeared with grease).

“Huh, I was thinking much the same thing,” Neil muttered as he glared at his friend. “You’re supposed to be commiserating with me, not insulting me!”

“Okay.” Matt took a deep breath as he sat up on the floor dolly thing and dabbed at the mess on his left cheek. “You’re upset that Stuart isn’t selling one of his fakes for once? I don’t get it.”

“He’s basically parading around a fake in front of thousands of people!” Neil hissed as he waved his arms about, upset that Matt wasn’t following. “What if they realize it’s not the real thing?”

“But Stuart’s really good at what he does,” Matt argued as he looked about for something.

“He’s a forger and a thief.”

“Says the guy who showed up earlier with a stolen Ferrari – I don’t think you have the strongest argument here, Red.” When Neil’s glare went up a notch, Matt held up his hands in a placating manner. “Hey, not throwing any stones, but you can toss me the rachet wrench near your left foot – you know, the thing that makes the ‘rrrrch, rrrch’ sound when you turn it?”

“I know what a rachet wrench is by now,” Neil mumbled as he picked up the thing and tossed it (lightly) at his friend. “And I stole the damn car because I’ll most likely need the money for when Stuart and I flee the country in a rush sometime within the next week – which I shouldn’t have to explain myself to the person who’s currently modifying it so it can be sold to some crime lord with an ego problem.”

“Victor’s a decent guy for a crime lord, and I don’t want to hear any bitching from a Hatford,” Matt threw back at him. “’Oooh, look who’s slumming right now’,” he called out in a high-pitched voice as his head waggled from side to side. “’Let me break out the tea and crumpets and lots of sharp knives’.”

“You’re an ass,” Neil laughed as he got up to tug the bandanna down his friend’s face, as well as to muss up his gravity-defying hair; it was then that Dan, Matt’s girlfriend, walked in on them.

“What did I tell you?” she called out as Matt wrapped his damn gorilla arms around Neil’s hips. “If you’re finally going to make a move on the boy, wait until I’m here to join in.”

“Eh?” Neil blinked at that odd statement while Matt laughed and, after giving him a smack on the ass, pushed him away so he could stand up and go give Dan a kiss – carefully, since she was dressed for a ‘day’ of work, in a fitted pant suit that hid the holstered gun and various knives on her person, as befitted her job as a well-regarded bodyguard. “How was work?”

“Horrible. I was half-tempted to shoot the whiny bastard myself, no wonder his company’s paying people to keep him alive.” Dan rolled her eyes as she unbuttoned her jacket to reveal the white shirt beneath it (and the leather straps of her holster). “Just had to keep focusing on the paycheck.”

“That’s what I love about you, always thinking ahead,” Matt said as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Should get a nice cut from this latest job, too. Then you can take a break from assholes for a while and work on your charity cases.”

“Yeah, Renee’s already got a couple names lined up for me.” A pleased smile lit up Dan’s face, wiping away the exhaustion and bitterness from before and highlighting a beauty she rarely enhanced with makeup. “Can’t wait for a nice vacation from the bastards.”

“Well, you do live with Matt,” Neil teased, and laughed when the tall freak attempted to kick back at him.

“Such a troublemaker,” Dan remarked as she came over to tousle his hair. “And did you bring this in? I thought you were more into cons with Allison and some B&E these days, not back to stealing cars.”

“He’s convinced that Stuart’s finally done something stupid enough to bring the police down on them,” Matt explained as he sat down on the dolly. “I’m not gonna complain since I get to work on this beauty, earn some money and get in Victor’s good books.”

At Dan’s curious look, Neil sighed. “He got it in his head to allow our copy, the fake copy, of the Cellini Venus to go on display at the Kleber-Lafayette Museum.”

“What?” Dan’s dark eyes went wide and she ran her hands over her dark brown, short curls in a sign of frustration. “There was a lot of activity around the museum today, them preparing for a big event that the asshole complained about having to miss because of some other commitment.”

“Yeah, they’re having a party tonight to kick off the collection, something like that.” Neil returned to the stack of tires and pulled his right knee to his chest as he thought about the whole mess. “Usually Stuart’s sensible about things,” he thought about that statement and sighed, “somewhat sensible, but all he’s babbling about now is postcards and cuts and other nonsense. I’m ready to throttle him.”

“Sorry, sweetie.” Dan gave a gentle stroke to his hair. “If you need to crash anywhere, you know you can stay with us.”

“Thanks.” He grimaced a little as he thought about the whole mess. “I hope he gets whatever this is out of his system without us getting into too much trouble. It’s gonna suck if we have to avoid Paris from now on.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Dan assured him. “You always tend to think the worst, too.”

Maybe because he was used to things going pear-shaped on him? Though to be honest, usually his family or his friends came through for him in the end. “Yeah, well, I remember a few close calls like the Saini con-“

“Aw, but some people would give almost anything to spend half a night trapped beneath a desk with Allison!” Matt declared from beneath the Ferrari.

“-or the Friedrich incident,” Neil finished with a scowl.

“I still don’t know how you and Renee managed to hide all those knives on your bodies and not rattle when you walked,” Dan confessed with a wince.

“We were just grateful that you did,” Matt called out.

“Well, is it too much to hope that this exhibition will end without me being stuck in a small space or knives being involved?” Neil asked as he stared at Dan with a hopeful look, only to feel the emotion die when she gazed back with pity. “Fuck.”

“Sorry, sweetie, but knowing your uncle and your luck? Get out the whetstone and be thankful you’re not claustrophobic.”

“Fuck,” Neil repeated as he reconsidered his stance on not drinking.

*******

Andrew fought the urge to tug at his bowtie for the eighth time that night and reminded himself that in another twenty-three minutes he could leave the boring as hell party; at that point, he’d already gathered enough information on how the place’s security worked, especially around a crowd.

He wasn’t that impressed with the Kleber-Lafayette Museum. Then again, he wasn’t impressed with much in life.

He ignored the interested look some woman dressed in a sparkling gold cocktail dress gave him as he snatched a glass of passible champagne from a tray full of them, and noted the unimpressed one he received from another young woman wearing an expensive as fuck Dior gown which had just been on the runway a week ago. It took his brain a moment to supply a name – Allison Reynolds, disowned heiress but still rich bitch extraordinaire, determined to live by her own rules and somehow able to get by in society despite that fact. Andrew raised his glass to her and was surprised when she arched an elegant eyebrow and raised her own in return.

After another lap of the main room (and another careful survey of the party’s attendees), Andrew stopped at his partner’s side; Kevin had undone his tie, but it had been a bit of a rough night once his old ‘friend’ had shown up. Andrew noted that there was a glass of water in Kevin’s scarred left hand and not alcohol, which meant that his friend had recovered from the shock. “Five more minutes.”

Kevin’s handsome face twisted with annoyance. “Some people enjoy being surrounded by works of art,” he said, voice rich with reproach. “The Kleber-Lafayette has quite the collection of-“

“Don’t care,” Andrew sang out as he rocked back and forth on his toes. “Seen one splattering of pastels, seen ‘em all.”

As he’d counted on, Kevin’s face grew flushed with anger. “You’re a disgrace to the profession,” he gritted out as he pinched the bridge of his nose with the fingers of his right hand.

“No I’m not, I’m the best at what I do,” Andrew reminded his partner. “And three minutes, now.”

Instead of arguing, Kevin merely shook his head and finished his water, then set the empty glass aside on the nearby small table before motioning for them to leave (one minute early, such a reprieve). They were quiet as they escaped from the boring party, at least until they reached the Jaguar F-type Andrew was renting during their stay in Paris.

He removed the jacket to his tux and the damn tie before he slid behind wheel, relieved to be done acting ‘proper’ for the night. “It’s not the worse job we’ve had, but it’s not the best, either. They seem to have somewhat paid attention to us when we gave them the security review.”

“Somewhat,” Kevin muttered as he jerked his left hand through his hair. “When are they going to learn that it’s better to spend the money on everything we recommend? Whining about extra lasers doesn’t matter if someone walks off with a Monet and their insurance fees skyrocket as a result.”

“Not our fault if they don’t listen to us,” Andrew reminded him. “Speaking about artwork, I’m going to be busy tonight.” When Kevin glanced at him, he gave a shrug as he fished out his pack of cigarettes from the center console. “Something’s bothering me about that Venus statue.”

“The Cellini one?”

“Yeah.” Andrew frowned as he lit the cigarette. “I don’t like how Josten just so happens to find all these amazing pieces of artwork, which end up in private collections and so avoid any real tests.”

“But he signed the papers which allow the statue to be tested for insurance purposes,” Kevin reminded him.

“Hmm.” It would be a big scandal if the statue was found out to be fake, though, so Andrew would rather know sooner rather than later and warn the museum if there was going to be a scandal (and earn a bonus as a result). “I wonder if he knows that, considering all the documents he signed. Anyway, we’re here, he’s here, I want to take a look at his house since I’ve always been suspicious about his collection.”

“You’re suspicious about everyone,” Kevin muttered as he slumped down in the passenger seat. “I still remember what you did to the poor woman whose job it was to clean your hotel room in Barcelona.”

“Because she didn’t obey the ‘do not disturb’ sign, and don’t change the subject,” Andrew argued. “Was I right about Zhang?” He waited for his partner to nod. “What about Bambey? Riopert? Zimmerman? Abe? I can go on all night.”

“Whatever, just don’t get caught, the French police aren’t happy with you after the whole Devine case,” Kevin just had to remind him.

“Yes, but I was right about that one, too,” Andrew said as he flicked ash out the window. It was quiet in the car as he drove them back to the hotel for a couple of minutes. “So what did the bastard say to you, hmm?” He’d seen Moriyama talk to Kevin from across the room, but the bastard had moved on before he could reach his friend’s side.

“Just… a snide comment or two about me ‘slumming’, that of course I was only there for work and about me tending to a mess someone made as if I was the cleaning staff,” Kevin admitted as his jaw tightened in anger. “Enough to remind me of how much I hate him.”

Nothing new, in other words; Riko Moriyama was still the spoiled, sociopathic bastard he’d always been, but Kevin had moved on enough to no longer let him tear him down. “He’s nothing without his uncle’s name and money. Not even his own brother wants anything to do with him.”

“Yeah.” Being reminded of Riko’s many issues always made Kevin happy. “Oh, he seemed obsessed with the Cellini, now that I remember. Kept staring at it and asking the museum staff about it.”

Something to keep in mind in case Riko proved to be trouble, which usually was the case. “Probably saw a new shiny he wants.”

“Yeah.” As if not wanting to talk about the bastard any longer (understandable), Kevin changed the subject to a couple of potential clients he’d met during the evening, whom he planned to follow up with during the next several days. Andrew grunted in agreement since it would keep the man busy – that and Kevin always did better at that sort of thing than him.

Once back at the hotel, they went their separate ways; Andrew imagined that Kevin would call it a night since he’d be up early in the morning to hit the workout room, while he changed into a more suitable outfit for sneaking about and double-checked the address he had for one Stuart Josten. Then it was back out for some ‘fun’.

*******

Neil was in bed attempting to read a book which Renee had lent him on ‘living kindly’ (she tried, she really did, but somehow he doubted that he’d manage a similar conversion like hers) when an alert on his phone went off to inform him that someone had tripped a silent alarm he’d installed near one of the house’s windows. For a moment he debated calling Davis, who was out with Stuart at that awful party, to come back and take care of the problem, but it had been very frustrating couple of days so he figured why not deal with things himself and then call the man to clean up the mess? Plan (more or less) in mind, he reached for the gun in the nightstand before he decided on the knife beneath his pillow instead (less noise) then slipped out of bed dressed in a dark grey t-shirt and boxer-briefs. His phone showed that the opened window had been downstairs, so he snuck down the staircase, where there were faint sounds in the main sitting room.

It was dark, but Neil’s night vision was good and enough ambient light came through the windows for him to make out a short shape dressed in dark clothes doing something to the new Van Gogh forgery hanging on the one wall. As quietly as he could manage, Neil snuck up behind the thief, and almost was within reach when the man (?) took the painting down and turned around.

Neil had the impression of pale skin and hazel eyes gone wide in surprise before the artwork was dropped and the man (definitely a man) launched himself forward; Neil raised his arms to block and got the knife up as he was knocked onto the floor.

“Mr. Josten, I presume,” the asshole said as Neil struggled to regain his breath from the impact and a heavy asshole laid out on top of him, the knife held back a hair’s breadth from said asshole’s neck.

“Yes, nice to meet you, larcenous asshole,” Neil replied as he tried to close that tiny gap, but said asshole was strong.

“Such harsh words.” Larcenous Asshole’s voice was deep and, judging from his accent, he was an American.

“Well, you did break into my house and try to steal a painting. I’m merely calling a spade a spade.”

Larcenous Asshole clicked his tongue as if annoyed, his gaze never once roaming from Neil’s face despite the knife. “I was only taking one painting. You have so many, chances were good you wouldn’t even have missed it.”

“Right, a priceless piece of art like that, we’d never have noticed.” Neil swore that those almost golden eyes narrowed the slightest bit at his comment. “What was I thinking?”

“Like I said, you have so many,” Larcenous Asshole drawled. “And it’s not as if you’re really going to do anything about it, a rich fop of a boy like you.”

“Well, by that reckoning, I’m sure there’s so many other larcenous assholes out there, who’ll notice if I rid the world of one, hmm?” Neil gave the man his father’s grin as he put a bit more effort into moving his right hand, and was rewarded when the knife touched bare skin.

He was also rewarded by seeing another flash of surprise on the otherwise impassive face above him as Larcenous Asshole jerked back away from the knife; Neil used the distraction to bring up his right knee to land a blow which at least hit the man in the very upper thigh if not in the intended target and so gave him enough room to wiggle free.

Both of them scrambled onto their feet, Larcenous Asshole with a bit less grace and a lot of wincing, and somehow Neil wasn’t surprised when his ‘guest’ pulled a knife of his own. “Aw, is playtime over?”

Larcenous Asshole scowled at him, the look slight but definitely there (Neil was used to people giving him dirty looks). “You cut me and tried to knee me in the balls. What type of society fop are you?” he demanded to know as he fingered where the knife had (barely) cut into his neck.

“A society fop who knows how to defend himself and his home. What type of Larcenous Asshole are you if you can’t take a little abuse, hmm?” Neil asked as he fought the urge to flip the knife (well, flip or throw, one of the two – wait, L.A. was standing on the 16th century Persian, so go with ‘flip’ until the bastard moved somewhere better for bloodstains).

“I break into spoiled rich people’s homes, I don’t expect much of a struggle. Also, bleeding,” L.A hissed through clenched teeth.

“You say that as if it’s my problem. Well, actually, take a few steps to the right just in case I cut a little deeper than I thought, won’t you? That rug is priceless.” Neil made a shooing motion with his left hand.

“You are fucked up, which is saying something coming from me,” L.A. declared as he risked a glance at the blood on his fingertips. “Also, I’m thinking that you’re not going to call the cops or else you’d be on the phone already, and I’m not sure you want me dead despite the lovely threats otherwise. So are we going to flirt all night or is there a point to this?”

Dammit… he may be an asshole, but the guy wasn’t stupid; Neil couldn’t call the cops, not when the house was filled with forgeries, and he was hesitant to kill him outright when he wasn’t sure if the man belonged to a syndicate which might cause the Hatfords trouble in the future – there was something about L.A which made Neil think he wasn’t an amateur off the streets. Torn over what to do, Neil eyed him up and down a couple of times before he sighed.

“I’m not flirting,” he insisted, and when L.A. opened his mouth, flipped the knife into a throwing position. “Now, this can either end up in your eye or I can put it away, which do you prefer?”

L.A. gave him a narrow look for a couple of seconds before he huffed. “Away,” he said, deep voice tinged with something that might be respect as he waited for Neil to lower his weapon before he did the same. “Spare a band-aid before I leave?”

Neil considered the question for a moment before he motioned the thief to follow him to the kitchen. “Come on, can’t have you walking around all bloody and raise suspicion.” He wouldn’t risk the police noticing the man and then have them knocking on his door once the story about their little ‘adventure’ got out.

L.A. walked beside him (over an arm’s length away), careful attention paid to his surroundings on the way to the kitchen; he kept glancing at the various artworks on the wall as if making note of them, and then at the various items in the kitchen. Neil remained focused on the thief in return as he went to the one cupboard which stored the smaller medical kit, which he placed on the table (still out of arm’s reach). “There. I imagine an asshole like you is used to patching himself up after people try to kill him.”

The man’s eyes narrowed again, the only sign that the jab might have struck home. “Can we keep personalities out of this conversation? I think maybe you wouldn’t care to have yours brought up.”

“What? I’m an angel, ask my friends,” Neil announced as he tapped his knife on top of the table.

“Are you friends homicidal, too?” L.A. scoffed.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, no dead bodies around here. At least, not yet. Let me know if you’re willing to change that before I waste any bandages on you, hmm.” Neil motioned to the kit.

Now the look turned contemplative before L.A. pulled the kit toward him. “Sorry, don’t plan on dying tonight. Bad enough I won’t have a nice painting to fence as it is.”

“You can always try the Dhedins’ down the street, I hear they’ve an amazing collection of Degas.” Neil offered a version of his Uncle Will’s smile as he propped up his chin on his left hand.

“How thoughtful of you,” L.A. replied in a rather dry manner which belied his words while he opened the kit and took to poking around in it. “I think I’ll call it a night after nearly having my throat slit.”

“Quitter.”

The thief grunted as he tore open a disinfectant wipe then dabbed at the cut on his throat, which barely bled anymore. “I can honestly say that this night didn’t go as I thought it would.”

“I guess that tends to happen when you’re a Larcenous Asshole.”

“Andrew.”

“Hmm? No, I’m Neil.” Had the man hit his head at some point during their struggle? Was he on drugs? Usually Neil was good at spotting those things.

L.A. sighed as he used another wipe to clean up the blood. “My name is ‘Andrew’. I’m tired of you calling me that.”

“Why, it’s what you are. You steal things and you’re an asshole, hence Larcenous Asshole. If you want, I can call you ‘Kleptomaniacal Bastard’ instead.” Neil put up with being called a ‘smart-ass’ and ‘British demon’ and ‘spawn of hell’ all the time – it was ‘sweetie’ and ‘cutie-pie’ that got on his nerves, but he liked Dan and Allison and the others so he didn’t say anything.

That and knowing his friends, they’d come up with something worse.

For some reason, L.A. looked to be in pain even though he’d already put a bandage on his neck. “I’m beginning to wish I’d let you stab me.”

“Not here in the kitchen, these tiles are from the 18th century.” Neil shrugged when L.A. took to gazing at him as if he was insane. “What, I’m not going to sit through yet another lecture from my uncle about respecting antiques.” Not after he’d used the one Damascus blade to help Davis deal with an intruder who thought to make a name for himself taking out a Hatford.

L.A. muttered something about lunatics while he ran his gloved hands over the black cap covering his head, which dislodged it enough to reveal short blond hair. “All right, I’ve reached my limit of insanity for the night. Consider me suitably punished and that I’m now reconsidering my wicked ways.”

“Somehow I doubt it.”

Neil was given a flat look as L.A. rose to his feet (he was pleased to note that the thief was shorter than him, a rare thing to discover, though he possessed a much stockier build). “Isn’t it past your bedtime, kid?”

That comment earned the bastard a rude gesture.

Neil followed L.A. back to the main room, where the man picked up a small leather bag filled with the tools he’d used to circumvent the alarm on the window (but not the one he’d missed on the lower wall) and whatever else he needed on the job. “Any problem with me going out the front door?”

“No, I’m sure it’ll be a novel experience for you,” Neil said as he pulled the door open. “Be sure to savor it.”

That time he was the one given a rude gesture.

“The Dhedins’ house is the white one with the black columns and the black and gold fence,” he called out as L.A. stomped through the door. “Be sure to pet the mastiffs for me, they love getting their ears rubbed.”

He was given the finger again. Huh, after he was nice enough to warn about the puppies, too.

Some people, you just couldn’t please them.

*******

Andrew groaned when he heard the barrage of knocking on his hotel door; at first he attempted to ignore it, except it refused to stop. Throwing the sheets aside, he stomped to the door and, after undoing the various locks, yanked it open to glare at his partner. “I have no qualms about killing you, Day,” he growled.

“Not enough sharp objects here to do it justice,” Kevin said without fear as he stepped inside; only the fact that he shoved a waxed paper bag bearing the name of the nearby bakery saved him, lack of enough sharp objects or not. “After all these years, you want to savor my death.”

There was some truth to that statement; Andrew had known Kevin for several years, ever since his first year in university, which he and his brother had only gotten into thanks to a ‘charity’ scholarship program run by Kevin’s father. It had been at the end of the first semester when Kevin had shown up on the man’s doorstep, broken and bloody due to what Riko Moriyama had done to him.

Andrew hadn’t been able to get rid of the pest since then.

“So, did you find out anything about Josten’s… what the hell?” Now that Kevin had opened the drapes and turned to face Andrew, he caught sight of the bandage on his throat. “What happened?”

“One Neil Josten,” Andrew explained as he fetched a caffeine drink out of the room’s fridge to go along with his chocolate croissant. “Let me tell you, those tabloid stories about Stuart’s nephew being some shy, meek kid who doesn’t like public outings? I wanna know just how stupid those morons are who wrote them, because there was nothing shy or awkward about that ‘kid’ last night.” Or much of a ‘kid’ at all, either.

“Wait, his nephew was home? I thought the house was supposed to be empty.” Kevin sank down on the bed when Andrew shook his head before having about half of the can of sugary coffee. “Shit, how did you get out of there? Are you in trouble?”

“Funny story, that.” Andrew’s flat tone made it obvious that it wasn’t funny at all. “Josten surprised me before I could do more than a preliminary check on one of the paintings, him and a nice, shiny knife.” Kevin’s eyes widened at that, probably as much about the weapon as for the fact that someone had snuck up on Andrew. “We had a bit of a pissing contest, but it became clear that he wasn’t going to call the cops so we backed off before it went too far. He thinks I’m a thief, but he let me go.” Andrew gave Kevin an intent look after that statement. “I might not have gotten any hard proof last night, but tell me, why would he have done that unless he didn’t want the cops to check out his place, hmm?”

“That… is rather suspicious. But I’m more concerned over the fact that he tried to cut your throat.”

Andrew waved that aside then tossed a piece of croissant into his mouth. “Tried, but didn’t.” A lot of people had tried to take Andrew down, but very few interested him as much as Josten did. No, there was something about the nonchalant way the young man had handled an intruder, had coped with the violence and been able to throw about quips at the same time, the mix of violence and intelligence and ‘go ahead, just try to fuck with me’ attitude that Josten radiated….

“While you’re out doing some work, find out about Josten for me,” he told Kevin.

“And what are you going to be doing?” Kevin asked as he stood up, already dressed for a day of impressing (bs’ing) people despite it not even being noon.

“Looking into his uncle and some other things.”

For a moment, it appeared as if Kevin wanted to ask if Riko was one of those ‘other things’ before he seemed to think better of it; he knew that Andrew wouldn’t let the prick fuck with him anymore. While Andrew doubted that Riko was in Paris because of them, he still would make sure that the man stayed as far away from Kevin as possible.

“Just make sure your work involves more than checking out new bakeries,” Kevin chided as he headed for the door. “Oh, and try to get some exercise for once. I’m going to tell Betsy and Aaron if I find out you spent the day holed up in some café with your laptop.”

Andrew gave him the finger before he shoved the rest of the croissant into his mouth.

*******

First part can be found here

Also, I think I’ll be posting one of the owed ‘you guessed right’ fics later tonight, too....

#nekojitachan fics #nekojitachanfics #how to steal a million fic #aftg #neil josten #andrew minyard #matt boyd #kevin day #dan wilds #oooh the flirting #snark #lots of snark #neil and his mouth #andrew's in trouble already

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shawnpetermuffins · 5 years

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Pictured with You (xii.)

A/n: wow, we only have 2 more chapters after This! This series has gone by way too quickly!

Summary: It's time you stop playing games. Brian and Connor are here to make sure it comes to an end.

Warnings: none? But it is told in both Brian's and Connor's POV, so like that's new.

Word count: 2k

***

Two confessions. I've got the two confessions that I needed - even though, let's be real, they didn't need to say it for me to know, but it helps. The only difficult thing now is getting them in the same room together so that they can admit to each other too. They're both so stubborn it's nearly impossible to get either of them to see that what they're doing is hurting them more than it is helping. But that's where I come in. But I'm gonna need a little help if I'm going to pull this off. So I'm in search of the one person that knows y/n better than Shawn does.

I text Connor after I leave y/n', informing him that I'm on my way to his room.

"What's so important that you couldn't just text me?" He asks, opening the door wide enough for me to slip through.

"I have a project for you."

"For me?" He crosses his arms over his chest and sits down on the arm rest of the couch.

"Yeah, I need you to take your footage from the last few months of tour and I need you to look for something in it."

"Okay… what am I looking for?"

"Anything and everything that has to do with Shawn and y/n."

"What?"

"We're getting them together," I say like it's the most obvious thing in the world, which it should be.

He doesn't say anything for a long while. Actually I start to doubt if he even heard that last part, but then he sighs heavily. "Brian, I can't help you."

"What? Why?"

"It's complicated," he answers, but I know it isn't. Because these are two people we care so much about, there shouldn't be anything complicated about it. "Please, Connor. You have to help me get them together. I can't stand seeing them pining for each other like this anymore."

He shakes his head, "I promised her that I'd stay out of their relationship, or whatever it is now. I just can't. It's not that I don't want to, but I can't betray her like that."

"Dude! You'd be helping her out!"

"You may see it that way, but-"

"No, listen." I sit on the edge of the table. "You film literally everything. I know you do. You have probably hours of footage of them just goofing around in the dressing room, and walking down the street holding hands, and leaning on each other in the restaurants. This is what we need to get them there. If you just compile it up, I'm sure it will get them to realize that they need each other."

"Okay," he nods. "Yes, I have all that, but she would kill me if she knew I was filming them all that time."

I sigh and run my hands roughly over my face, "Connor, for one second. Just one second, I need you to stop thinking about what she's going to feel towards you. I know she's your best friend, you don't want to betray her trust. I get that because I feel the same about Shawn. But we're hurting them more by not helping them. We're letting them be miserable when it's the most obvious thing in the world that they want to be together. That they need each other. Not pushing them is selfish."

"Okay, and what if this push isn't what they need? What if this push actually ruins them? What do we do then? Are we going to have to live with knowing that their downfall could have been avoided had we not inserted ourselves into their personal relationship. I don't want that to be on our shoulders. I don't want that on your shoulders."

"What is it that makes you so fucking sure that they'll break up?"

"Because they're just how she and I were!"

I stare at him for a minute, trying to figure out if he's for real or not. "So you did have a thing."

He just nods, "Yeah. We did."

"Is that why you won't help? Because you're still hung up on her? Because I swear to god, I will drop kick you so hard right now if that's the reason."

Connor holds his hands up, "No! Jesus, I really need to stop pausing before I continue talking. I don't want her back. I don't. She and I both know that us going out was a mistake." He runs his fingers through his hair, "I don't want her to experience that again. Because we didn't talk for months after we broke up, and it was a mural break up."

"She's twenty-one. Let her live a little, damn. You can't protect her from heartbreak, Con. If it happens, it happens. You're not her brother. You're not her father. You're not her protector. She's very capable of making her own decisions about a guy. And she wants him."

"How do you know she still does?"

"Because she told me literally two seconds ago. Just like she told me the only reason she won't get with him while We're on tour is because she doesn't want him to get too used to them being with each other all the time."

"What are you talking about?"

"Eventually Josiah is gonna come back for tour. And y/n is going to be back at home doing photoshoots there. She doesn't want him getting comfortable with that consistency."

"You see? That! That's why I'm scared for her! I'm worried that it's not going to be consistent. That he won't be consistent."

"He may not always be in the same place," I agree, "but he's never not been there when someone needed him. You know that. You know that he would drop everything if she needed him."

He sighs and looks down at his feet, his hands in his pockets. "I know."

"So are you gonna help me or not?"

---

So now I'm sitting here, going through my footage with Brian ghosting over my shoulder, watching me choppily put the snippets together just to have them saved.

"I like this one," he points to my screen where y/n and Shawn are trying and failing to copy Shakira's 'hips don't lie' choreography. The video is kinda shaky because I'm trying to get closer to them, but I'm laughing so hard that my body is shaking too. The video cuts out shortly after they land on the couch, y/n's body on top of Shawn's, her head resting on his fast beating chest while they remain cackling.

"Yeah, I like it too," I drag the video to my editor and we go through more.

"What's this one?" Brian's finger hovers over a snippet marked "Staying in Paris." I click on it, scrolling through until I find the part I know is there. They're in front of the lit up Eiffel tower, it's late. Her camera covers most of her face while she takes a picture of Zubin and Eddy back to back on the grass in front of her. She's focused on them, but his eyes don't stray from her. When she stands from her crouching position, his hand almost immediately finds the small of her back. When I played the footage back the first time, I brushed this off as him trying to steady her, but I see the pure longing in his eyes now, and when she very subtly falls into his touch, I know it was more than that.

Video after video I put them to edit, until I have nearly fifteen minutes of just them. Moments that I know they aren't aware I was filming. Like on the first night of tour. They're, for the most part, alone in his dressing room and she's fixing the shoulders of his shirt. You can barely hear them over the chaos down the hall, but you can just catch y/n say, "Trying to kill these girls with your chest hair, Mendes?"

"Only trying to get one girl's attention," his hands are on her arms, rubbing half circles on her skin with his thumbs.

Then there's one from the San Antonio show, we're at Starbucks and y/n is reaching into her bag for her money, but Shawn placed his hand over hers, ordering his drink and then handing the barista his card. Y/n tries to push his hand away but he chuckles and wraps his arm loosely around her waist, his hand on her thigh. He takes his card back and they move to the side so Mike can order his drink.

I find one that I know Brian will want for the video. The kiss from the dressing room. But the one we're watching now is horrible quality because it's from my phone, and it was that night at the bar. You can barely see because of the dark light in the room, but you see her lips touch Shawn's and the shot glass that was between his teeth just seconds before now slides between their close bodies.

"You got this one?" He asks, looking down at me and I just nod.

"I don't know why I thought to get it, I just did, I guess. I mean, we obviously don't have to use it, but-"

"No. No, use it. Use them all. This is - this is exactly what we need."

I close my computer and turn to face my red-headed friend. "So, we have a video. What are we gonna do to get them in the same place?"

"Well, first. How long is it going to take you to edit that?" He gestures toward the laptop and I shrug.

"I don't know. A week, maybe? It just depends on how much time I have when I'm not editing the behind the scenes stuff."

"Okay… I have a plan. It's gonna be tricky, but I think we can make it happen if we get a little more help."

I nod, "Lay it on me."

---

(Bold is Connor's POV, regular is Brian, bold italics is both)

This plan took nearly the rest of tour to execute, let me just tell you. It was nearly four months of planning and I'm still not even sure if we did everything we said we were going to. But Brian was convinced that we could pull this off and so far, so good. There were, of course, a couple of almost slip ups, but we were able to save ourselves from having to explain ourselves, and our plan to Andrew, who would no doubt throw a tantrum if he found out what we were up to. And it's both fortunate and not that y/n and Shawn still aren't talking to each other. They're much better at being around each other though. They can finally stand in the same room without one of them coming up with an excuse to leave. But I don't see that being the case tonight. One of them was bound to go into fight or flight mode when they saw what Brian and I had cooked up.

"Dude, what's the rush?"

"Why are you so eager to get to the roof?"

"The lighting is perfect. You'll get the best photos."

"It's nice outside. I just want to enjoy the fresh air. And since when do you have something against roofs?"

"I don't."

"Okay, but bouncing in place relentlessly isn't going to make me tie my shoes faster. If anything it'll only make me go slower."

"Please, y/n."

"Please, Shawn."

"Jesus, alright. I just need to get my camera and we can go."

"Okay, okay. Let me get my phone. Don't think I'll need it, but just in case."

I send a quick text to Brian when we leave her room.

We're in the elevator.

He's quick to reply.

Just about to head that way. Make sure she's not facing the door.

I know that what's about to happen doesn't necessarily have anything to do with me, but I can feel my stomach turning all the same. I'm scared something will go wrong. But I push the fear to the side when we reach the roof.

No turning back now.

***

Tag: @curlyshawny @anamariel2301 @shawns-badreputation @bbellbagel @turtoix @ivegotparticulartaste @tomshufflepuff @dino-16-avocado @sleepybesson

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I hope you enjoyed!! Like, reblog, and leave feedback!! 💙

#pictured with you #shawn mendes #shawn peter raul #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #smfsource

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starchildrenofdustand-ashes · 5 years

Text

Falsetto’s Tour Review...

Sooo nobody caresss but I saw Toursetto’s Sunday June 2nd with Nick Adams as Whizzer, Max von Essen as Marvin, Eden Espinosa as Trina, Nick Blaemire as Mendel, Audrey Cardwell as Cordelia, Bryonha Marie Parham as Charlotte, Thatcher Jacobs as Jason an here are my thoughts !

♔ When I saw the block sitting in the middle of the stage I almost started crying ♔I couldn’t make out what they were saying at the beginning of Four Jews, but I’ve seen people say that Nick Adams says “Yeehaw” lol

♔When Eden sings slavery-- she sings the OBC version instead of the higher notes Stephanie did ♔ I was sHOOK when Max opened his mouth to sing and sounded SO MUCH LIKE CHRISTIAN BORLE??? I was so WOW ♔ The Thrill of First Love gave me such a different vibe than the Revival version did. For starters, I did not hate Marvin in act one which is really unusual. In this song I usually view Marvin as mean and abusive, but I just felt myself feeling bad for him. This version of the song was more playful and less aggressive I think. ♔Whizzer doesn’t say “wash n’ wear” he says something like “what is this? A poly -blend?” ♔Marvin rips open Whizzers shirt and damn Nick Adams has some serious muscles lol ♔NICK BLAEMIRE??? Was soooo funny. He had me laughing to the point of tears. He was absolutely amazing. ♔ I didn’t realize in ‘Marvin at the Psychiatrist’ Whizzer was pissed when they called him ‘smarmy’ ♔Jason is so cute and his voice is so big ♔ When he says “just because you failed as parents” he says it through his teeth and his voice is really quiet ♔ I’m not sure what it was about Max portrayal, but he was literally just sad and decrepit. (Of course I didn’t like Marvin, but he just felt less mean) ♔ When they pull the chair away from him at the end of This Had Better Come to a Stop, Marvin turns and literally face plants ♔I’m breaking down was absolutely the highlight of Act I. Eden Espinosa was absolutely fucking amazing. In both productions, it was clear that Trina was having a breakdown, but here its less tears and more cackling and laughing. ♔ When she said “you ask is it fun to cry over nothing?” Her face was totally blank and sarcastic ♔ Of course we love a queen chopping a penis banana. ♔”Sure things’ll probably worsen but it’s not like I’m some happy person” she sits in the middle of the stage and laughs hysterically for a good ten seconds. ♔ “A freak who needs it maybe every other week” she stops and feels her boobs and sighs saying “ohhhhhhhh that feels reallllllly gooooooood” ♔ Every Trina belting with a banana in her mouth is a fucking icon. ♔ She fucking bolted off stage with the knife in her hand lol ♔ “YAH,, this is Mendel wisenbach-FÉLDDD” ♔ When Trina says “chicken marengo” she rolls the ‘r’ im gay dont @ me ♔ When Trina says “I’ll wait for you” she holds out the note really long as she runs of the stage with the chicken marengo and then theres a crash and offstage she shouts (SHIT) ♔ During a marriage proposal,, after he says biblical times— theres a long pause and Marvin leans in and was like “YOURE DOING GREAT” ♔ March of the Falsettos was amazing,, and somehow?? Nick Adams still sounded fucking amazing singing it lol. ♔ The chess game was heartbreaking as always. I just fricking love nick?? He did so well. Also Max??? seemed so much less aggressive than christian borle… and just more disappointed. Idk how to describe it. ♔ I don’t know how I just realized that they are making a home out of what’s left of the set after Marvin and whizzer break up ♔ THE GAMES THAT I PLAY?? ANOTHER HIGHLIGHT OF THIS ACT. Nick sounded sooo amazing and I either got chills from how cold the theater was or from his voice and I’m pretty sure it was the latter ♔ Marvin hit Trina. Yeah. This was completely heartbreaking. Honestly this Jason was shook to the core and you could see it (when Marvin hit her) and it was probably the saddest part of the scene. ♔ Also Whizzer is the one who made the slapping sound behind Marvin, ♔ Marvin tried to hug Trina and Mendel PUSHED him away ♔ Marvin put his hands on his head and let out this really pained wail. Honestly I hate him, but I was like damn get help bc it was highkey sad. And poor Trina was trying to comfort Jason. It was a mess. ♔ Father to son was heartbreaking too bc Jason didn’t want to be anywhere near Marvin. Whenever he tried to touch him he would flinch away and Marvin was crying and hngggg. ♔ All I could say is that when he shined the light in our faces and called us homosexuals,,, it was blinding lol ♔ When he said a teeny tiny band and pointed to the orchestra the crowd cheered like crazy which is honestly what they deserved ♔ THE LESBIANS. THE LESBIANS!! Everyone was great in the show, but Dr. Charlotte. wow. She was so fucking amazing. I got excited every time she had a line because I knew she was about to slay. They were really cute together ♔ When Whizzer asks Marvin if he was still ‘queer’ in the baseball game Marvin’s voice got all old and he made his hands shake when he said “It’s been so long since I could tell” ♔ Good news, Nick Adams didn’t have a boner during a day in falsetto land LMFAO ♔ Something bad is happening. I was excited bc as I said. Bryonha is fucking amazing. She. Not only was her singing stellar, her acting was amazing. She was so angry and had so much passion despite her obvious confusion. Also Audrey Cardwell was the cutest Cordelia. ♔ During holding to the ground, three white sheets fall from the ceiling making the hospital room that Whizzer stays in. ♔ Not sure if it means anything, but I realize that the items at the hospital are the only things not made from the cube. Just an observation lol. ♔ I think Nick Adams Whizzer is my favorite (I think acting wise, I like Andrew better, but singing Nick takes the cake.) You gotta die sometime was beautiful and I started crying when he belted the last note. ♔ Jason’s Bar Mitzvah. Yeah. I was crying. They were all smiling but it looked so painful. ♔ Whizzer covered his mouth like he was about to cry and then reached out to touch Jason. He thanked him and left. Jason tried to follow him but Marvin stopped him and ugh. ♔ Before what would I do started playing (in the transition) the white curtains fell to the ground and pulled towards the edge of the stage. And when everything is gone marivin started singing. I like this— it made everything feel officially over. ♔ what would I do. This is my favorite song in the entire show and they were both so amazing I was crying uncontrollably (Even though was orchestra and pretty close to the stage, I was using my opera glasses ((yes I’m that bitch)) and god I could see Max was crying and FUCK I WAS RUINED. ♔ For falsetto land, they bring the block back on stage, and there is a piece sticking out. In the revival, they brought the block together from two pieces on either side of the stage, but in the tour they pushed it from stage left. ♔ Marvins sobs were really LOUD and heartbreaking. ♔ They put a spotlight on the chest piece until the blackout and I. UGH THANK GOD FOR WATERPROOF MASCARA.

♔I have seen so many Broadway In Chicago shows, and WOW this is definitely in my top three. The acting the singing, the orchestra and JESUS IT WAS JUST AMAZING

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shesdangerace · 5 years

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April Showers

SO. I know i said to send me prompts and some actually DID and i am so grateful! However, I had already started writing this, so i followed my instincts and this is what we have. To read this fic on AO3 click this link and leave me a lil comment if you’re feeling it, it make my whole day <3

Spring is warm and filled with gentle winds and messy curls. It doesn’t rain, but it pours.

Neil must weather his storm.

And so Andrew will wait on the other side.

It’s the start of April.

Andrew is breathing in the open air and the smoke of his burning cigarette. Kevin stands across from him, arms folded, with a filthy look of displeasure on his pinched face. Andrew looks into his eyes and takes a drag.

Neil is leaning against the wall outside the Foxhole Court, smirking in equal turns at Andrew and Kevin depending on whose pettiness is loudest. He is wearing a light blue sweatshirt. Like the sky in Spring in the early morning. Clear and unhindered by shadows.

“For fuck’s sake Andrew would you stop it?”

It’s not a question.

Andrew takes another drag. Long. Slow. Blows the smoke out through his mouth on the exhale.

It’s an answer.

They’re going to Eden’s tonight. Him, Neil, Kevin, Nicky. Aaron and Aaron’s cheerleader. Neil smiled at him like he was a fucking new born puppy when he said yes to that.

But.

Neil is looking tense in his light blue. Tired eyes, clenched jaw hidden behind his smirk, twitching fingers. Andrew looks at him, lets Kevin spin himself out on another rant about the importance of lungs and Exy and whatever.

He looks at Neil, looks at his tired eyes. Neil looks back because Neil is always looking back.

He nods at Andrew. And that’s that.

No clouds have marred the light blue sky just yet.

That night, Nicky dances circles around them all. Kevin only drinks half his usual amount of alcohol and lets Nicky drag him around in circles too. Aaron is smiling and free, even after his cheerleader leaves early.

Neil is standing all in black once again, ripped jeans and jagged edges bleeding into the shadows in the corner of the room. He’s nursing a glass that he would claim is liquor, but Andrew knows is water.

He stands a statue. His eyes are storms.

Andrew almost wants to touch his hand, the one not gripped vice tight around the glass. Feel his rabbit heartbeat. But he doesn’t. Instead he stands in the eye of the storm and waits for the thunder to hit.

—

Wednesday.

Warm.

Cloudless skies.

Objectively pleasant.

It’s late enough in Spring now that the sun stays out a little bit longer, and this seems to invigorate the Foxes post-practice.

Dan and Matt have already crushed Neil in a dual embrace for his good boy behaviour that day. Kevin is frighteningly agreeable. Allison and Nicky have convinced Renee that she wants a party in the dorms. She’s convinced them she just wants the Foxes there.

Aaron is gone.

But that’s nothing new.

Andrew learns much of this after it’s already begun. After the music has started and the sun has already decided to keep shining.

“How was Betsy?”

Neils’ soft voice in his ear. Warmer than the sun on Andrew’s skin. They’re sitting on the desk by the open window, and Andrew is not watching the breeze ruffle Neil’s messy hair nor he is looking at the new freckles the sun has encouraged on his nose.

Neil is wearing grey sweats and pastel pink today. It should look stupid.

“She was fine. Insightful even.”

Neil looks at Andrew, judges him truthful, looks at him some more.

He seems more comfortable in this colour today. More alive, more steady, less violent in his posture. But his eyes. His eyes remain tired. Thunderous. Sharp precipices over a raging sea.

“And how was Neil today?”

Andrew says it sarcastically, apathetically, disinterestedly.

Fucking Neil Josten and his knowing smile.

“Neil has been just fine, thank you” he replies, voice assured and cocky. His hand twitches slightly against the surface of the desk. Fine.

Andrew raises a singular brow.

“I’m good, Andrew. Really.”

Andrew looks at Neil, judges him only partly truthful. But ultimately, okay.

Neil looks away from Andrew and he remembers that there’s music playing. He can hear it now, barely, over the voices of the Foxes.

Nicky and Allison are dancing, Dan and Matt are kissing, Renee is smiling beatifically up at them all.

And then Allison spots Neil.

“Neil! Let me teach you to dance you poor socially stunted thing!”

Then it begins, the arduous process of teaching a recently-real boy to dance. It’s a mess. It’s almost catastrophic.

Neil looks comfortable, comforted, pastel pink and safe.

He smiles and laughs as he spins Allison around to the beat, lets her teach him to dance.

The breeze ghosts it’s way through Andrew’s hair.

Andrew feels the sun all over his skin.

—

It’s Thursday.

Still warm.

Still April.

They’re drinking coffee on the outside tables, it’s early in the morning, and Aaron’s discontent is permeating the Spring air and filling Nicky with life.

“Aaron, Aaron. Hey Aaron. Isn’t it a lovely morning?”

Nicky’s voice says, ‘I’m a morning person today.’ Aaron’s face says ‘I slept 3 hours last night.’

“Get fucked, Nicky.”

His voice says much the same.

It doesn’t help when Neil laughs.

“Fuck off, Little Mermaid” Aaron hisses. This only makes Neil laugh harder. It’s spiteful and pointed, a sound that echoes off of Andrew’s bones.

Neil is wearing a semi-subtle mint green hoodie with his auburn hair skewed in distinctly upwards directions. He’s not a morning person either, not by choice, but he is always a petty one.

Andrew steals Aaron’s coffee when he’s not looking, and Neil laughs a little more.

Andrew’s coffee tastes sweet, and Neil’s tastes bitter when he steals that too. He wonders if it tastes any different on Neil’s tongue.

He’ll find out soon enough.

Nicky swipes Aaron’s phone from his pocket when he starts to fall asleep, takes seven selfies and cackles loud enough to wake Aaron up again.

Neil watches them fight, takes a bite of his chocolate pastry and passes the rest to Andrew. That too tastes sweet and bitter.

Andrew can taste the Spring in the freshness of the air, feel the ease in the sound of Neil’s barely there laughter. See the tension in the line of his neck.

He closes his eyes.

Then he raps Neil’s soft green clad arm with his pale knuckles.

“Time to go.”

It’s not.

Neil knows this.

But it’s time to go.

—

As is often the case, things are mostly good until they’re not.

Neil is puking into the toilet in the now locked bathroom. His skin is covered in sweat, his heartbeat is faster than the Maserati’s engine, his eyes are closed despite the absence of light in the room.

He was screaming in his sleep before this.

He tells Andrew he has phantom pains in the tendons of his legs. He tells Andrew he feels fire on his skin and it won’t stop burning. He tells Andrew he thought he was going to die down there, he thought he was going to die for a long time and he was okay with that. He tells Andrew he doesn’t really know how to live now. He tells Andrew he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe.

The lights in the bathroom are turned on now but Neil’s eyes remain shut, so Andrew cleans the nightmare away for him. Neil can’t stand, so Andrew won’t either. He sits with him. Hand on the back of Neil’s neck. Eyes locked on his just in case they open. Voice firm and solid when Neil tells him:

“Sometimes I think I’ll always be nothing.”

And Andrew says–

“You will never be nothing.”

—

Neil is wearing grey today. Lots of grey.

His eyes are warnings, and the tension in his back is the only hint you’ll get if he decides to bolt out any one of the exits he’s counted.

He tears up the court floor like a hurricane.

Every time the ball hits the plexiglass Andrew hears ‘I thought I was going to die.’ He hears ‘I was okay with that.’ He hears ‘I was resigned to it.’ He hears ‘how do I live now?’

Every time Neil races away down the court Andrew hears it.

Neil wages his war all practice long, showers alone, reappears drowning in a black hoodie and missing behind the eyes.

It’s a long and tired day.

Andrew takes them outside, leans against the Maserati, looks up but the sun is missing.

Kevin leans against the wall, stands beside Neil. Silent. Unflinching.

The silence fills the spaces between them all.

Andrew lights his cigarette.

It burns down to nothing in his hand.

Neil sleeps like the dead are haunting him that night.

—

Four days later and Neil remains grey.

It’s another warm Spring day, sleepy and slow like molasses.

Andrew looks at Neil finally asleep on the beanbag from his own position on the couch. Notices the bags under Neil’s eyes. Glares Nicky half to death when he comes in through the door.

Nicky doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t say a word. Just sits on the floor next to Neil’s beanbag and looks at him too.

Neither of them say anything for a while. Andrew looks at Neil’s chest moving up and down with his breathing. His hands clenched in the ends of his grey sleeves. His hair hidden beneath his hood. His body tightly curled on the beanbag chair. The sun shines down on him through the window but his eyes are too screwed shut to see it.

“He was fine. A few days ago he was fine.” Nicky says it with sigh. With an ache.

And then Matt’s voice breaks into the stillness left behind. Andrew didn’t notice him come in.

“Recovery isn’t a straight line.”

And wouldn’t Matt know. Wouldn’t they all.

Nicky falls asleep on the floor after a while. Matt drapes Andrew’s extra blanket over Neil, leaves a glass of water safely by the beanbag, works at the desk as quietly as he can.

Andrew stays right where he is until sleep takes him too.

—

Days later and Neil is screaming. He has been screaming for an eternity.

His tendons are bleeding out all over a dirty basement floor that keeps changing colour.

Andrew watches him bleed.

A man with a face like Neil’s that looks nothing like him is towering over Neil except now he’s towering over Andrew. No, Andrew is looking out through Neil’s eyes.

The cleaver comes down close to his ear.

There’s a scream, a voice that sounds like Neil’s spilling out from his lips begging the man to stop. Let him live. Let him die already.

The cleaver comes down again next to Neil’s leg but Andrew watches from the walls again. He can’t seem to move, can’t seem to speak, can’t seem to stop the butcher from mangling Neil’s face some more.

Andrew just watches.

Watches as Neil stops screaming altogether. Watches as Neil looks at Andrew, the tears running down his face finally ceasing.

Andrew listens as he says:

“I’m ready to die.”

And then Andrew is awake.

Andrew thinks of that day in Maryland, that fucking riot. He remembers the bus afterwards. He remembers sitting in the hotel room waiting. He remembers not knowing. He wasn’t ready for it then. He’s not ready for it again now.

Except he knows now what the crash to come looks like. He knows now what the next step to this fear is.

He reaches his hand out blindly, just to feel the warmth of Neil’s sleeping body, his skin, his physical living presence.

But the bed is cold, and Neil is gone.

Andrew doesn’t look for him. Because he doesn’t have to. He spots him sitting on the desk staring out into the late-night sky speckled with stars.

He counts his own breaths. In for five. Hold for seven. Release for five.

It doesn’t work.

(It rarely ever does).

Neil notices him almost instantly anyway, alert with nothing else to notice but the stillness being interrupted.

Andrew moves closer to him, pulled like a magnet to Neil’s glowing eyes in the dark.

He takes his hand and hovers it over Neil’s scarred cheek. Neil, like a cat, leans into the skin of Andrews’ palm. Andrew can feel his pulse where his fingertip slips below Neil’s ear.

Recovery is definitely not a straight line. It is not always fun either. It does not always feel good.

Andrew rests his forehead against Neil’s, close enough to kiss him. Neil doesn’t move but to close his eyes, parting his lips, like he’s finally found relief. Water in a desert.

Andrew speaks into the air between them. “Come back.”

And so Neil falls asleep in their top bunk for a few more hours, but Andrew’s eyes stay open until the sun sets again.

—

Still April. Later now by a day and a half.

Andrew hasn’t really touched Neil since that night.

He’s touched his sweatshirts though, his hoodies, digging through Neil’s drawers to find the shirt he stole from Andrew. He’s run his fingers over blue and pink and green.

But he hasn’t touched Neil’s skin, or run his fingers through his shocking hair. It’s messier than ever. He hasn’t touched Neil in any ways that count.

He thinks about much he needed to touch Neil that night. How much he wanted to. To feel Neil, to know he was there still. He thinks about how much he doesn’t want, how he’s not supposed to be able to anymore, how Bee would call this a step forward and his instincts call it stupid.

He wonders when he became capable of feeling like this. Maybe Baltimore. Maybe before. Maybe always.

“He’s a stubborn asshole, Andrew.”

Oh. Kevin is here.

Kevin keeps his hands his pockets, stays leaning against the door frame of the bedroom. He looks cripplingly awkward with what he’s about to say but equally as determined.

“He taught me how to fight.”

Andrew leaves the shirt and the hoodies and the colours in the open drawer and leaves.

Andrew finishes class that day with a destination in mind. His knives make his skin itch.

He hasn’t seen Neil at all.

His skin continues to itch.

It’s not quite time yet though, so Andrew drives. Aimlessly. In circles. Down the stretch of road leading away from Fox Tower, down the streets lined with trees where joggers like to run, back to campus. He sits on the rooftop of the tower and smokes with his feet over the roof’s edge and doesn’t look down.

When he gives up on his cigarette, it takes an awful long time to fall.

Andrew happens upon Neil sitting with Renee outside on the curb by the gym. Renee is sat not quite close to Neil, his fingers tugging gently at the ends of her hair. Whatever she says to him, it makes his hands fall still, the tension in his body stutter.

Andrew stares.

Neil notices him first. Which is typical of Neil really.

They move towards each other in almost the same instance and by the time they reach each other, Renee has already disappeared inside.

“Hey.”

Neil’s voice is quiet, deliberate, tired. But he looks at Andrew with the same blue fire he always has. Andrew takes the keys out of Neil’s own pocket, places them into Neils’ hand and lets his skin drag against his.

Andrew lets the sensation echo all over his body.

After a moment Neil closes his fingers around the keys, clutching them so tightly they dig into his palm.

“Andrew. Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

His voice is so steady it feels like it should be a lie.

Neil is slow to kiss Andrew, takes him in first. Roams his eyes over Andrew’s face. When he finally does kiss him it’s like a plane crash.

“I’ll come back” he says, so firmly and so quietly.

Andrew hears what he says and sees what he means in the cut of his jaw and the softness behind his eyes.

Neil pulls back, jiggles the keys in front Andrew.

“To pick you up.”

Idiot.

Andrew asks the question this time.

Lying on the floor of the sparring mat, Andrew thinks about Neil playing with the colours in Renee’s hair. Later, she tells him she was helping him pick a favourite.

—

The sky is clear today, and the air is mostly still.

Neil is wearing pale yellow with his hood down. His hair spills out in every direction, curls catching the light. He looks like the first rays of sunlight in Spring after a cold Winter. The breeze moves against his hair and his smile mostly reaches his eyes when he looks at Andrew on the rooftop.

Neil says something he thinks is witty, and he may be right but Andrew will never tell. Mostly, Neil says yes. With his voice, with his eyes, with the breath that catches in his throat when Andrew pulls away.

Andrew knows he slept better last night. Not all the way through, but the closest he’s gotten in a while. He knows Neil only counted some of the exits this morning before he caught himself.

He knows Neil.

They stay on the roof for awhile, mostly silent, only sometimes not kissing.

And then Neil moves away, leans back on his palms, tilts his head to hear the sound of the Foxes readying for practice through open windows. The sound of their voices melt into the warm air and carry away with the breeze until only Neil’s is left.

“Time for practice.”

It’s all going fairly well for something Andrew doesn’t care about, right up until an upstart Fox gets all upset. Andrew knows his name, he just doesn’t care to use it.

The baby Foxes don’t register particularly highly on Andrew’s radar, but even he is well aware that this particular Fox needs work. Except for the Fox himself it would seem.

So Neil had some choice but accurate words for him today, something along the lines of “that was awful, how many times are we going to go through this,” and then Andrew had stopped listening.

Andrew still wasn’t listening as they changed out, as they started to leave, even as baby-Fox continued to pick fights with Neil. Right up until:

“God I wish you’d died in that fucking basement.”

Andrew made no conscious decision to do it.

But.

Between one moment and the next, Andrew is wearing blood on his knuckles from baby-Fox’s now bleeding nose.

There’s a lot of commotion after that, but not the sympathetic kind for the bleeding Fox on the ground. Even with his blood on his hands Andrew can’t bring himself to care about his name. No one else seems to care much for him either.

Later, Andrew thinks about why he did it. Usually, he needs a reason. A promise. A duty.

This time was a little different.

It’s new.

Because Andrew can remember the feeling of thinking that Neil was dead, he can remember not knowing those last words were goodbye until it was too late. Too late to say no, fuck you, you’re staying.

Because Andrew doesn’t want Neil in grey, he wants him in pastel pink and light blue and semi-subtle mint green and pale yellow, and he wants him left the fuck alone.

Neil kisses his knuckles when they get back, after he cleans the blood away, lips cool like the evening air.

He says, “You don’t have to do that for me.”

He teases Andrew with words like “I thought we agreed our deal was off?”

Idly, as he tells Neil to fuck off, he catches himself thinking that at least no blood touched that pale yellow.

—

“This is disgusting.”

“Neil. It’s a cinnamon bun.”

“Yes Nicky, and it tastes like pure sugar.”

Neil scrunches his nose, and Andrew takes the cinnamon bun right of Nicky’s greedy hands as they move to steal it.

It tastes light and airy and sweet. It crumbles on his tongue.

Neil steals Matt’s ham and cheese croissant when it lands on the picnic bench across from him, and Matt slides a black coffee to Neil.

Matt watches Neil eat his pilfered croissant, looks hard at Andrew. Andrew nods, because yes this is the most enthusiasm Neil has shown to food in a while.

“Hey Neil, nice hoodie.”

Neil looks up at Matt’s voice and smiles. Looks back down at his food, sips his coffee, but the right dimple on his cheek still shows.

Today Neil is wearing light purple.

On the rooftop that evening, Neil looks like he was pulled out of the sky. Soft and light and all his purple lit up by the setting sun.

Like a painting.

Like a dream.

—

The next night is full of chirping bugs and cool breezes.

Neil is wearing peach, and he looks like something edible and sweet under the lights of the ice cream parlour. He steals the ice cream out of Andrew’s glass cup just to taste it.

Bubblegum flavour. Sprinkles that stick to his lip enough he has to lick them off. Andrew watches the journey his tongue makes.

Neil’s’ freckled nose scrunches up in distaste.

Neil has said eight things in the past hour. He teased Andrew on the way into Sweeties. He smiled with his eyes when Matt and the others agreed to come along tonight.

The next ice cream he steals from is Nicky’s. He clearly doesn’t like this much either, not that Nicky seems to care at all.

“Do you want some Neil?”

“No thanks.”

“Come on have it!”

“No.”

“You need to expand your taste buds you cretin.”

“Fuck no.”

“Neil!”

Neil however has already abandoned Nicky’s ice cream sundae and his whining.

The next victim is Aaron. A bold move. It’s a flavour Andrew knows Neil would hate. But he eats it anyway, slowly, purposefully, deliberately.

It’s stupid and petty and Aaron is livid behind his eyes.

And then Nicky steals some too and then so does Matt and so does Dan and Neil just smirks at him and moves on.

Matt’s ice cream gets a small tilt of Neil’s head. Sorbet like the colour of Neil’s hoodie. Matt grins at Neil like he just won the Super Bowl.

In the end, Neil drinks the rest of Kevin’s seemingly abandoned smoothie and leaves his own chocolate caramel swirl to Andrew.

Neil dances under the flashing neon lights of Edens’ that night, badly and not for very long, but he catches every colour of the lights on his skin as he moves.

—

It’s the last day of April.

They’re sat outside on the curb of the parking lot of the Foxhole Court, all of them that count. Allison has left a lipstick mark on Renee’s cheek that she can’t seem to stop staring at, and Nicky is convincing himself and only himself that he did a great job at practice that day. Matt is throwing blades of grass from the bank behind them at him when he’s not looking.

Kevin is reeling off opinions to Neil who is not listening in any way, and to Dan who has strong opinions of her own. Aaron is half asleep leaning against the grass bank.

Andrew smokes his cigarette and stares at the bright neon orange of Neil’s sweatshirt.

Neils’ fingertips are almost brushing his. Not quite. But almost. Andrew can smell grass and sweat and clementine body wash.

“Thank you for waiting.”

Neil’s voice sounds like a secret no one else is supposed to hear. They probably aren’t. His eyes are calm rivers again.

Andrew lets their fingertips brush together.

“Shut up.”

The last day of April is almost over.

The Maserati is speeding along the highway and the lights passing by are flashing across Neil’s face. The passenger seat window is open and Neil’s arm reaches out of it, his hand holding onto the top of the car.

He looks loose and cocky, alive and undeniable. His sleeves are rolled up to feel the evening air.

His stupid hair is a stupid mess in the corner of Andrews eye and he reaches out to run his fingers through it.

The lights keep passing by, and the neon of Neil’s hoodie catches every single one.

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aperfectsummerrae · 4 years

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Single Girls Valentine

INVOLVED: Ellie Rose, Summer Sanders, Erica Rose, and Jasmine Lewis TIME FRAME: Friday, February 14, 2020 LOCATION: Perch; Los Angeles, California SUMMARY: Out for a single girls Valentine’s night the girls, try to have a nice dinner at Perch but when Ellie shows up, shocking Summer, the cat comes out of the bag. Trouble brews between friends, Summer and Erica, and sisters, Erica and Ellie. Jasmine spectates full of amusement.

Jasmine sat at the table with her friends, smirking from behind her glass, sipping her champagne. “Here’s to another single girl’s Valentine’s Day!” she said holding her glass out.

Summer looked over at Jasmine, then Erica, before she held her glass out. “Here’s to finding love in 2020,” she said before she looked at Erica once more, wanting to hear what she had to say.

Erica lifted her glass up as she looked at the other two women around the table and she said. “Here’s to–” she paused thinking to herself as she bit her lip with a smirk. “Here’s to new beginnings and plenty of adventures,” she told them happily.

Jasmine smiled at her friends before she brought her glass to the center. “Cheers!” she squealed out.

Summer smirked, clinking her glass with Jasmine’s. “Cheers!” she chimed in half a second behind.

“Cheers!” Erica said in unison with the women as she took a sip from her glass before sitting down.

Giggling, Jasmine took a sip of her champagne before she put her glass down and said, “so what’s the tea?” she asked them both. “Both of y’all behinds disappeared the other day for hours,” she exaggerated as she picked up her menu to browse over it.

Summer sipped her champagne before she sat the glass down with a smirk on her face. “Tea?!” she questioned jokingly. “Ask Erica, she the one that had all the fun,” she said with a smirk as she leaned towards her friend knowingly.

At Jasmine’s words Erica hid behind her menu, chuckling at Summer’s words before lowering the menu, she looked to them both. “He broke my back in. I’m back in the game after a year… dear God. For moments, I actually thought to myself this would be a great way to go if I did,” she said looking up at the ceiling with a smirk. “He cooked me steak, the most tender steak I have ever had. Asparagus,” she emphasized “and Brussel sprouts,” she told them. “It was so good,” she dragged out. “And the sex… even better,” she admitted not leaving out any juicy details.

Jasmine’s eyes grew wide at Erica’s words and she laughed out loud. “Sheeeit,” she giggled. “Who was he?” she asked, looking between Summer and Erica. “Still can’t believe you bitches went out without me,” she said with a roll of her eyes playfully. “I couldn’t find a sitter,” she sighed out.

Summer listened to Erica and she nodded along with a smirk on her face. “I can’t believe that young motherfucker cooked for you,” she said honestly. “Jasmine you should have seen him. He was tall, at least 6’2 and he was fine as hell. Rich brown skin, pretty teeth and smile, a beard, dimples,” she said before she whipped her head back around to Erica. “You lucky bitch,” she giggled out.

“His name was Josiah,” Erica said rolling his name off her tongue as she thought about him in the back of her mind. Pure bliss was all she felt and thought about when she said that name. “He is so perfect, very perfect,” she urged on, “too perfect, almost,” she said thinking about it for a moment. “And trust me when I say, everything underneath his clothes matched as well, honey, those feet should’ve been my damn sign,” she told them before she laughed behind her menu. “Did I mention he sent me something today?” she said looking to them with wide eyes. “So sweet and considerate, fuck,” she said with a headshake. She looked to Summer and chuckled at her words before she told Jasmine, “we have to go out soon and maybe my baby sister can baby sit she loves children!” she exclaimed.

Jasmine sipped more of her champagne as Erica explained further and she leaned in interested in knowing more and more. “Well damn,” she said with a chuckle as she picked up her menu to fan herself. “What did he send you?” she needed to know. “Girl, I would love that,” she admitted. “You know Christopher is with his father tonight and that’s the only reason I was able to come out tonight. So, if your sister is willing, I would gladly pay her for her help,” she said honestly.

Summer sat back, glancing over her menu more as she listened to Erica. “He got you a gift?!” she asked shocked. She couldn’t believe he had gotten her a gift after a one-night stand but then again, she got Ellie roses, so maybe she couldn’t judge. Licking her lips, she said, “God, I haven’t seen Ellie in ages,” thinking about the last conversation she and Erica had about the younger girl. “I think I was like 20 the last time I saw her, so she was what? 15?” she asked thinking it over.

“I will ask her; no worries Ellie always comes through, trust me,” Erica told Jasmine. “She had a little god baby and she’s always with the girl. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the child was hers,” she chuckled. “Yep,” Erica said looking to Summer. “She still looks the same girl,” she joked as she took a sip of her champagne from her glass as she sat it aside.

Ellie came rushing into the restaurant after having been with Andrew for a few hours before he had to head back to his wife. He’d spent the evening with her in her apartment and they had a cute dinner before he draped her in diamonds; around her neck, her wrist, and dazzling her ears. She still had the pieces on as she allowed the hostess to show her to her table and quickly tapped away at her phone setting Bryce straight about not having seen him today. He didn’t have a gift, why bother? As she reached the table, “oh my God I am so sorry I am late,” she said as the woman moved aside and revealed Summer to her. She looked around the table before she looked at her sister Erica. “Erica?” she said questionably as she leaned in to peck her older sister’s cheek, pulling the chair out and sitting down confused.

Jasmine nodded slowly. “I had no idea Ellie was a godmother,” she said shocked. “Wow, time has really flown. Like Summer, I don’t think I’ve seen Ellie in years,” she exaggerated before a young woman came rushing around to their table. After Jasmine got a good look at the girl, she slowly turned her eyes to Summer confused. “Summer, you didn’t?” she asked, trying to figure out why Summer invited the woman from the boutique to the restaurant. Was her friend that enamored? However, as the woman said Erica’s name, Jasmine’s eyebrows pulled together in shock and confusion.

Summer decided on the steak and potatoes as Jasmine and Erica spoke about childcare. Looking up slowly as Erica said Ellie still looked the same, she chuckled. “I’m sure of it,” she said. “Little E was so cute,” she said thoughtfully before Ellie came around their table excusing herself for being late. Summer looked at the girl wide-eyed. Late for what?! Summer blinked slowly, trying to keep her composure as she too looked at Erica. “You two know each other?” Summer asked Erica confused. Looking at Jasmine, Summer shook her head. “I didn’t…” she mumbled back to her, still confused as hell.

Erica chuckled at her friends. “Yes, her high school friend had a baby a few years ago,” she said. “She was an adorable thing wasn’t she,” she wasn’t being biased just because she was her sister, she really was cute. As Ellie sat down, she chuckled swatting Summer playfully. “Summer girl, this is little Ellie,” she said gesturing to her sister. “I invited her to join us, since none of us actually have men,” she chuckled playfully though no one in the room seemed to be in a giggly mood anymore. “What's up, what’s wrong?” she asked everyone.

As her sister spoke, Ellie sat her Chanel bag on the table and looked at the other two women. She’d know them from the store, was she supposed to know them from anywhere else. And how did her damn sister know either of them?

Jasmine looked at Summer, then at Erica, then at Ellie quickly putting the pieces together. Summer had been hitting on Erica’s little sister. Out of the blue, Jasmine began laughing, holding her stomach as she did. “Oh Summer,” she howled in the middle of the restaurant. “You’re going to hell,” she cackled.

Summer gazed at Ellie, then looked at Erica as she explained how she knew Ellie. Her eyes whipped back to Ellie and she pointed at her. “Erica that is not little Ellie!” she just about exclaimed out of shock. “You’re telling me that this is your sister,” she said still pointing at Ellie because she was baffled. She did not sleep with her friend's little sister. There was no way. Looking at Jasmine, Summer squinted. “Nothing,” Summer muttered out to Erica when she asked what the problem was. I am going to hell. “Nice to see you again…” Summer finally said to Ellie. “I haven’t seen you in ages,” she said looking into Ellie’s eyes as she tried to pull herself together.

Erica looked to Summer and she nodded her head. “Yes, the one and only,” she told her eyeing Summer curiously. “She looks the exact same,” Erica pressed, having made it up in her mind that it was a fact of life. Watching Jasmine, Erica grew even more confused by her statement to Summer and she looked to Ellie for a moment before she looked back at the two with a raised brow.

Ellie looked to her sister and to Summer before she looked to the other chocolate skin woman squint slightly. Ellie looked back at Erica, licking her lips slowly before she shook her head. She rested her elbow against the table and rested her chin against the back of her hand looking at them. Ellie just offered Summer a smile as she looked back to her sister silently, she didn’t know what to say.

Jasmine snorted with laughter looking at Ellie with a smile. “Nice to see you again Ellie,” she said sweetly to the younger girl. She had no idea what Erica had been smoking because Ellie looked absolutely nothing like the girl she had met all those years back. It was no wonder Summer didn’t recognize her. Ellie had grown up. Shit, Ellie was a woman, stacked more than Erica was.

Summer licked her lips slowly, hitting Jasmine’s leg under the table, trying to get her to stop laughing. This situation wasn’t funny in the slightest. Pressing her lips together, Summer looked away from Ellie. If she looked at her, all she would be able to think about was how she tasted as she spread the girl against the counter of her apartment. Clearing her throat, Summer picked up her menu and began to fan herself with it.

Erica looked to her friends and then to Ellie and said, “cat got your tongue,” to her gently. She stroked Ellie’s dreadlocks. “They spoke, so speak. I raised you better than that Ellie,” she told her. “You don’t remember Summer and Jasmine, when I went off to school, we all hung tight,” she tried to remind her. “Anyway, you didn’t miss much were just talking and having some champagne. We can get you some poured up,” she said with a smile.

Ellie eyes moved from Jasmine and then Summer. Nope didn’t ring a bell she thought before her sister spoke. She sighed. “Hi,” she said simply to them both as her sister explained she shook her head at her, “nope,” she said easily to them. As she shifted in her seat, she moved to open her menu and she looked at it slowly, “did you order?” she asked her sister.

Jasmine looked at Summer as she hit her under the table, and she looked at her friend. This is hilarious, she thought to herself. However, the look on Summer’s face as she began to fan herself told her it was more than just harmless flirting in the boutique. Her eyes slowly grew wider and wider and she gasped. “Summer, you never told what you were up to the other day when you weren’t responding to anyone. We know this one was comatose from the dick,” she said pointing her thumb at Erica, “but what about you?” she asked. “Wynter even called me looking for you,” she said as she tried to piece it all together. She just knew her friend didn’t sleep with her other friend’s little sister.

Summer continued to fan herself as Ellie said, hi, and she looked at Jasmine, fanning even harder before she sat her menu down, looking at her friend like a deer in headlights. “Oh, uh, I was preoccupied…” she muttered as she picked up her glass of champagne, throwing it back, her eyes on Ellie. “I just got a little drunk and had to sleep it off at a friend's house…” she said after she sat her glass back down, looking at Jasmine with pleading eyes to shut up.

Erica looked to Summer as Jasmine questioned her and she smirked before she turned to her sister. “No, we haven’t yet,” she told her moving her eyes back to Summer. “Shaking my head,” she said aloud, “all she drank was two sips of Chardonnay,” she told Jasmine. “She can’t hold water,” she said to her jokingly.

Ellie nodded to Erica, she looked to Jasmine and then to Summer for a long while. Lying bitch, she thought to herself as she flipped the menu still reading it idly and at her sister’s words she chuckled. How could you get drunk off of juice? Ellie would never know the answer to that. Sad.

Jasmine nodded slowly. “Mhmmm,” she hummed out before she looked at Ellie with an arch of her eyebrow. She was quiet. Too quiet. “How was your day?” she asked, deciding to let it go for now. But she had a feeling her friend was in deep shit, considering the way she clammed up as soon as Ellie approached their table and she had watched Summer order flowers earlier in the day and they couldn’t have been for Audrey. She’s allergic to roses. Slowly she turned to Summer once more. “Did you see Audrey today?” she asked curiously.

Summer wiped her hands over her bare thighs before she pulled her dress down a little, crossing her ankles. She just wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. Looking to Erica, then to Ellie, Summer couldn’t believe the resemblance. How did she not see it? They looked like twins damn-near as they sat side by side. “Audrey?” Summer said looking at Jasmine, having been caught up in her own thoughts. “Oh, no I didn’t,” she said. “I called her earlier though and wished her a happy Valentine’s Day. I sent her some chocolates too,” she murmured.

Ellie looked at Jasmine and she said, “pretty nice,” nodding her head as she looked to her sister again. “Got a few things from a friend,” she said touching the diamonds around her neck. “Some roses,�� she listed, “a few other gifts,” she shrugged. “You?” she asked her now ignoring Summer and the little conversation about some other apparent woman.

Erica looked to Jasmine knowingly before she looked to Summer. “I am shocked,” she said slyly to the woman as she explained that she hadn’t seen the woman but did speak to her. “Would have thought y’all would have spent the day together,” she breathed. “Y’all all hooked like glue and shit,” she chuckled as she took a sip from her glass again.

“Roses?” Jasmine said with an arch of her eyebrow, looking at Summer once more. Oh, she had her now. Summer slept with Erica’s sister and then turned around and got the girl a huge bouquet of giant roses. She wasn’t slick. “That’s so sweet,” she said thoughtfully. “Oh, I spent the day with my son,” she said sweetly. “My little Christopher,” she explained. “He’s with his daddy now,” she added to clarify.

Summer choked on air slightly at the mention of roses and reached for her glass of water, guzzling that down too. She was going to be sick. This was too much. At Erica’s words, she looked at the woman with wide eyes. “No…” she said gently. “We’re definitely not, we’ve been broken up for a while now…” she said trying to coat it over to Ellie, though she didn’t know why. She could never be with the young girl now.

“Awe, how sweet. I made some cupcakes for my little goddaughter and I took them over to her earlier today,” Ellie said thinking of the child even now. Ellie looked to her sister as she spoke and her eyebrows rose to her hairline, the girl was taken but had slept with her. What? It was fine, she was used to being a piece of ass for some people.

Erica looked to Summer oddly and she tilted her head. “Summer,” she said snorting, “bitch you just told me that y’all still fucking the other night when we went out, what you mean?” she asked with a chuckle. “You get in front of Jazz and now it’s all we broke up. Girl bye,” she waved off. “Y’all are practically the remnants of a married couple that has separated and is working resolving the issues out both sexually and physically,” she said giving her a ‘nigga really’ look as she took another sip of her drink.

Jasmine looked at Erica, then at Summer, snorting herself. “Oh, you don’t have to front for me, I know the tea!” she said with a smirk. “Just last month Audrey was all up in the studio,” she told Erica. “I saw her,” she said with a laugh, looking at Ellie curiously to see the girls' reactions. “You two know you’re meant to be together; I don’t understand why y’all broke up in the first place, talking about you had different wants out of life,” she said snorting once more. “Stupid.”

Summer looked between Erica and Jasmine as they blabbed out the mouth about Audrey and she kicked Erica under the table then Jasmine. “Would you two give it a rest,” she said hurriedly. “Audrey and I are not together,” she emphasized, her eyes moving to Ellie for a moment. “You both know that,” she stressed. “Yes, I’ve seen her recently but it ain’t all that,” she mumbled. Gazing across the table at Ellie, Summer bit her lip gently, her fingers dragging through her blonde tresses.

Ellie watched as the women laid it all out for her and she nodded her head, made sense to her. Someone had been blowing up her phone that morning with texts and calls, she heard the various noises though she hadn’t checked it out herself. She shifted in her seat sitting back and she looked to Summer again from across the table, her eyes darkened as she rubbed her lipstick stained lips together resting her arms in her lap. “This story is boring,” she said fanning the two women, “you tell us about tall dark and handsome,” she turned to her sister, she had heard enough.

Erica chuckled loudly at Jasmine only quieting herself as she remembered they were in a public setting and everyone didn’t need to hear them. “Girl,” she breathed out looking to Summer and then to Jasmine as she burst out with laughter again, her head shaking. “They should have gotten married, that’s all I am going to say,” she said raising her hands defensively. As she felt Summer kicking her, she whipped her head at her. “Summer,” she sneered caressing her leg, “what the hell?” she asked her. At her sister’s words she took in her rude demeanor. “El,” she said to her with wide eyes before she looked off. “What about him?” she asked shrugging. “It was a one-night stand, I don’t know much,” she breathed out.

Jasmine looked at Summer as she kicked her and Jasmine swiftly kicked Summer back, cocking her head at her friend. “Bitch,” she whispered irritated. Slowly she turned her eyes to Erica and Ellie, taking in how Ellie changed the subject. “Married indeed,” she agreed, rubbing her leg a little as she looked back at Summer, squinting at the girl.

Summer dropped her head as her two friends talked about marriage with Audrey. Were they crazy? They needed to stop talking! “No,” she said sternly at the thought. She and Audrey were great together, sure, but marriage material. Not even close. Audrey didn’t even want children. They could never be together for real. Licking her lips, she shifted in her seat. “Excuse me,” she said quickly as she stood, rushing off to the bathroom. She was so flustered that she didn’t know what to do with herself. Rushing into the restroom, Summer moved for the sinks, splashing cold water into her face.

Ellie looked to the two women before she watched Summer rush off, hm. Looking back at her sister she asked, “is the dick good or not?” outright. That’s what the hell they wanted to know, none of them gave a fuck about the other stuff she was sure.

Erica cocked her head to the side as she watched Summer leave before she looked to her sister. “El,” she repeated again before she said, “yea,” easily. “Indescribable,” she said with a smirk.

Jasmine watched as Summer rushed off and she looked at her friend as she fled before she turned her eyes to Ellie and Erica. She eyed the jewels Ellie donned before she asked the girl. “You’re single,” she began, “Erica said it,” she explained how she knew that. “You said someone got you jewels and roses,” she continued, “who was it?” she asked curiously, leaning forward, elbows on the table.

Summer patted her face dry with a napkin before she moved into a stall to relieve herself. She did so quickly before she moved to wash her hands. Exiting the restroom, she pulled her dress down some as she approached the table, her eyes on Ellie. As she sat, she cleared her throat. “What are we talking about?” she asked.

Ellie looked to Jasmine as she leaned forward and she tilted her head. “Oh, I have a male friend, who likes to buy me gifts,” she said touching the necklace again. “He bought the diamonds,” she told her leaning against the table herself. “And Summer brought the roses,” she breathed out with a smirk, if you played with Ellie you better play chess. She wasn’t scared, easily intimidated, or ever embarrassed.

Erica looked to Jasmine, shifting in her seat at her question she looked to Ellie. As she spoke, she nodded her head, yeah, her sister kept sugar daddies around, she knew that sadly. As she explained that Summer brought her the roses she looked to Jasmine, and then to Summer’s long body as it moved back to the table, shocked. “What?” she asked confused.

Jasmine nodded slowly before her mouth dropped. She was not expecting Ellie to expose Summer the way that she did. She honestly thought the girl would continue to beat about the bush and play the game. Slowly she looked at Erica, then to Summer as she sat back down. “You…” Jasmine said softly, answering Summer’s question.

Summer looked at Erica, her eyebrows furrowing before she looked at Jasmine, a panicked expression on her face. “Me?” she asked, her eyes flickering over to Ellie, then Erica. “Why me?” she asked, feeling very, very exposed.

“Because you bought me roses,” Ellie said outright looking to Summer as she returned to the table. “Now my sister wants to know why,” she told her. “You have the floor again,” she smirked at Summer easily as she tilted her head waiting for her to explain herself.

Erica looked to her sister and then to Summer, she didn’t know what the hell was going on, but she wanted to hear all this shit.

Jasmine blinked slowly looking at Summer expectantly. Ellie had put her on blast. She had to say something now.

Summer’s mouth went dry as she looked at Ellie shocked. Fuck! She tore her eyes away from Ellie to look at Erica. “I had no idea she was your sister,” Summer began quickly. “That,” she said pointing, “is not the little 14 year old Ellie I remember.” She looked at Ellie once more, then to Jasmine. Did Ellie want them to know that she had fucked her. Licking her lips, she reached for her glass of water and took a sip. “I mean… Ellie and I spent some time…” she said vaguely. “So… I sent her flowers…” she said looking at Ellie, “because I was hoping to be able to eventually take you on a date,” she said addressing Ellie now.

Erica looked to Summer, hoping with all hope that this was just a funny little joke among them. As she went on to explain Erica sighed as she rolled her eyes and sat back in the chair. “Are you serious Summer?” she asked her shocked. Out of all the people in the world it had to be her little sister, knowing she was still fucking her last bitch. Erica shook her head as she looked to her sister and then to Summer again. “I have no words,” she breathed.

Ellie watched Summer explain herself and she blinked slowly. “Ellie is grown,” she said looking to Summer. “So, what’s stopping you?” she asked her, her sister had no say over her love or sex life, Erica knew that. Nothing was off limits, Erica knew that. Who cared who or what Summer was, it would her choice, “or is it that this Audrey chick stands in the way,” she said toying with Summer as she watched her eyes.

Jasmine sat back as Summer explained and she shifted in her seat looking to Erica knowingly. She wasn’t happy, this she knew. But indeed, Ellie was grown and clearly Summer had no idea that Ellie was Erica's sister. Folding her arms over her chest casually, she looked between the three of them. This was some shit.

Summer looked at Erica with apologetic eyes. “How in the hell was I supposed to know that this was your sister?” She asked Erica honestly. “She does not look the same,” Summed stressed before she looked at Ellie shocked. “No, Audrey doesn’t stand in the way,” Summer told Ellie with a tilt of her head as she thought about what Erica told her about Ellie the other night. “Your harem?” She questioned.

Erica looked to Summer, her eyes darkening at her words she turned to look to Ellie as she challenged her. Stating she was grown and Erica chuckled at that. “Grown,” she repeated unamused. As the two spoke she stood up. “This has been fun,” she told him, grabbing her Gucci bag as she picked up her phone and her keys. “But I have to go,” she said shaking her head. “You and I will talk about this later,” she said as she tilted her head in front of Ellie, she was so close that if either flinched a brawl would break out. “Grown,” she sneered at her again as she moved to walk off agitatedly.

Ellie looked at Summer as she pleaded her case to Erica again. She wasn’t going to hear the last of this but in her mind she was innocent. As she mentioned Audrey not being a problem, Ellie laughed internally, what a liar, she thought. “Harem?” she questioned as if unaware of her many partners and sugar daddies. “I keep to myself,” she told her, uttering a lie. As her sister got up, she looked up. “Erica,” she tried to breath before the girl moved in close, she meant business. She was pissed off; her sister wasn’t one to run away from problems, so this was new for Ellie.

Jasmine looked around the table with wide eyes, her mouth hung still. She absolutely could not believe this. This was a shit show. Clearly, Summer had no idea who Ellie was for real, she barely recognized Ellie herself. How that made no difference to Erica, who was seething. Licking her lips, Jasmine picked up the bottle of champagne that sat in ice in the middle of the table and she brought it to her lips. Their single girls Valentine’s dinner was falling apart. “Erica!” Jasmine said as Erica ran off from the table.

Summer looked between Erica and Ellie wildly as they went back and forth. “Yes, harem,” she said, licking her lips. “I know ‘bout it,” she informed Ellie, eyeing the diamonds around her neck. As Erica collected her things and got up from the table, Summer stood up quickly, rushing behind her friend. “Erica wait,” she said quickly catching up to her with her long legs. She grabbed Erica’s hand gently, tugging the woman back to her. “E, let me explain,” she said pleadingly. “I really had no idea she was your sister; you know I would have never done it if I knew.” She gazed at Erica with sad eyes. “I would never do anything to hurt our friendship, you know that!”

Erica looked at Summer and then her hand as she held it, pulling her hand back from the woman. “What are you going to get out of this?” she asked her angrily. “You know damn well you aren’t going to leave Audrey alone and you think I am going to allow your old ass to fuck my sister over too?” she asked her seriously. “How selfish is that? To ask me,” she argued “to sit back and watch you play her like a fucking fool,” he said bitterly. “I practically raised her Summer, that is my baby. You need to leave her alone” she commanded. “I am not asking your ass; I am telling you,” she said.

Ellie smirked at Summer “I keep to myself” she repeated “I don’t know who or what you heard that from,” she told her softly. As Summer moved behind her sister, Ellie grabbed her purse and said to Jasmine “nice seeing you” she told her quietly as she stood up from the table.

Jasmine drank down more of the champagne as Ellie too got up from the table and she sighed, flagging down a waiter. “Yes, may I order the baked chicken alfredo pasta?” she asked the guy who looked at her bewilderedly, having been witnessing the whole situation unfold as he helped other patrons.

Summer dropped Erica’s hand at the look on her face and she sighed out. “I don’t know,” she said with a lick of her lips. “We’re grown Erica, all of us, we make choices,” she said trying to get her friend to understand. “I mean now that I know she’s your sister, I’m going to step back but E, who knows what would've happened otherwise. It’s a conversation. You know Ellie has a plethora of men, you told me yourself,” she said, “who’s to say I wouldn’t have gotten hurt?” she stressed. “I don’t know where things would have led,” she said honestly, “but it would have been figured out as time progressed. Audrey and I, we had our time,” she said sadly, “but we’ve both kind of moved on with our hearts it’s purely physical now…” she said, “and… and…” she looked at Ellie as she walked past them and she bit her lip hard, trying to stop herself from running after Ellie. Slowly she tore her eyes away and she looked at Erica. “Erica… I had no idea she was your sister and I promise you I’ll never happen again,” she breathed out, looking into Erica’s eyes. “I’ll stay away from her, but I don’t want to lose you as a friend,” she pleaded. “We’ve known each other too long and been through too much…”

Ellie moved past a few people as she found the entrance to the restaurant and she moved through it swiftly.

Erica folded her arms as she looked to Summer, blinking slowly at her. She was laying it on thick but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still upset with her. Raising a brow at her she sighed heavily as she nodded her head. “Okay,” she said with a bit of a bite to it as she did. “I’ll call you later,” she told her quietly she still didn’t want to go sit down among her and Ellie just yet. She placed her purse on her shoulder a she walked out of the building fully prepared to call Ellie over to her house so that she can straighten her out accordingly.

#thread #thread: single girls valentine #thread with: ellie beatrice #thread with: jasmine nicole #thread with: erica serenity #thread with: summer rae

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