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harrysgloves · 4 years

Text

In the Middle

Harry Styles x Reader x Florence Pugh

Story Summary: Florence and Harry are smitten with their makeup artist on set.

Word Count: 10k (dear god I got carried away. I’m so sorry)

Warnings: Language // Threesome // MFF // Oral Sex (Female Receiving) // Unprotected Sex // Spanking (I couldn’t not include this) // Dirty Talk // W | W (obviously) // Mentions of religion (it’s more a metaphor.. not sure how to explain that?) //

Authors Note: Woooo boy, she’s finally done. Been working on this baby for a while so please comment. I’d love to hear your feedback! Also, the reader has an adopted last name in this... Not sure if that bothers anyone or not but if it does please tell me and I won’t do that in future fics.

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It was your first day on this movie set and honestly, you were scared shitless. This movie was so star-studded you were almost positive that you'd say something stupid to at least one of them. That'd be just your luck, your first job as lead makeup artist and you'd let some gibberish crap fall out your mouth.

You took a deep breath, standing in front of the door to your trailer. Your trailer. It was so surreal, you were finally getting your lead moment, and all you could think about was 'I better not mess this up and get black listed.'

"Gonna open the door or are ya goin' to do makeup out 'ere?" The voice from behind you caught you off guard. You wished you wouldn't have let out the shriek when you jumped around to see the beautiful specimen of a man standing in front of you.

Of fucking course it had to be one of the main actors.

Your face heated. Your cheeks burned hotter than the sun when you heard him chuckle from his spot. His hands shoved deep in his pockets as he looked at you like you were the most amusing thing he'd seen in a while.

"Don't scare the poor girl." His co-star said as she walked up from behind him. Her hand slapped against his chest as she walked past him and towards you. His grin never faltered as you stood there completely starstruck and trying your best to not be a blubbering idiot.

"Here, lemme help." She said as she held out her hand. A sweet smile forming on her lips when you handed her the keys.

"Always make me out to be a dick, love." Harry mumbled to Florence when she finally found the right key to your trailer door.

"Easy to make you out to be a dick when you are one." She said with a shrug. He rolled his eyes but you could tell it was all in good fun. "If he messes with you, jus' tell me. I'll take care of him."

"Think she's gonna 'ave to talk to us 'fore she goes tellin' on me." He smiled widely as he teased you. Whatever shred of your usually vibrant personality had been completely washed away by nerves. You couldn't believe you were standing in either of their presence.

If only your 13 year old self could see you now. Even she would be telling you that you're a fucking idiot.

"We don't bite." Florence said as she pulled you inside your trailer. Your head nodded because honestly it was the only way to guarantee that you wouldn't say something stupid.

"Unless yeh want us to." Harry teased. Florence immediately shot him a look you'd never want to see directed at you.

"I'm good." You squeaked out. Your bag being quickly thrown on your table before you turned on all the lights to the place.

It was simple but it was completely yours. You were finally the head honcho, the boss, the shot caller. It was all up to you- how the makeup looked, how the prosthetic were applied. It was something you were pretty sure would never happen to you but knowing Olivia Wilde definitely had it's privileges.

You'd never imagined working on The Lazarus Effect would lead to almost a five year friendship with so many great opportunities. Plus, she didn’t judge you for your train-wreck of nerves you had your first day of work.

"So yeh know us. Wot's yeh name?" Harry asked you after mindless banter with Florence. Her head filled with curlers turned to look at you standing over Harry. The foundation you were dabbing on his face smeared slightly as your nerves picked back up.

You were never good at the talking part of the job. Not until you warmed up to people a bit. You were definitely more reserved of the makeup artist in the industry. You stuck to yourself for the most part and only your closet friends knew how you really were and you really preferred not getting mixed up in any celebrity business.

"Um, Y/N." You said as you sat the makeup brush down on your table before moving to start taking the curlers out of Florence's silky blonde hair. The perfectly formed curls bounced out, your fingers ran through them to diffuse them a bit.

"Been doing this long?" She asked as you busied yourself with hair. Trying your best to not pull or tug on it too hard and hurting her on accident.

"Not long." You said, the nerves you had dissipated a bit when you talked about something that you enjoyed doing. "Five years but I mostly did low budget horror films."

"Step up from that then, innit?" Harry asked, both their eyes burned into you. Your face immediately heated again at the attention.

"A bit." You said as you finally took the last roller out of Florence's hair. You were so close to being done and getting away from everybody long enough for your anxiety to let up. "First movie I get to be in charge of the makeup department."

"Explains the nerves." Florence hummed out as she sat up in the chair, fluffing her own hair a bit as she examined your work.

"Yeah, sorry about earlier. I get a little lost in the mornings without coffee." You paid close attention to them both smiling at you. Somehow feeling like you were missing a joke until they both spoke at the same time.

"You should do tea instead."

"Never going to happen. I need my coffee to function." You said pointedly, knowing deep in your heart that you would forever be a coffee lover.

"No way." Florence scoffed but you didn't miss that hint of a smirk on her lips as she looked towards Harry.

"'Aven't had the right tea."

"I'm not abandoning my one true love like that." You said with your arms crossed over your chest.

"Boyfriend doesn't get mad that coffee is your one true love?" Florence asked while Harry nodded his head in agreement.

You couldn't help the laugh that left your. A fit of giggles you didn't think you'd be letting out near them any time soon or ever. Your hand came up to tell them to give you a second to compose yourself. Their eyes moved back and forth between each other and you, confusion clearly etched into their expressions.

"You really think me, who couldn't even open the door this morning, is out hitting on people? Honestly, that's the best compliment I've ever gotten." You said as you turned back around to sit down the rest of the curlers in your hands. Random giggles still escaping from you as you shook your head in disbelief.

"They could've came onto yeh." Harry said like he was trying to figure you out. Another burst of laughter came from you when you turned back around, hands on your hips as you looked at both the ungodly beautiful people in front of you.

"I'm not really the type that attracts attention but really this was a great confidence booster." You smiled at them, whatever words both of them were about to say was interrupted by the knock on the trailer door.

"Hey, you guys are needed on set." Some assistant said quickly before walking away from the trailer.

"Guess we gotta go. We'll see you in a bit." Florence smiled brightly at you before turning and walking out the door with a cute bounce in her step.

"See yeh, love." Harry mumbled, his hand ran through his thick brown curls that you'd spent too much time styling for no reason. He followed her out the door. His long confidant strides quickly caught up with Florence. His arm around her shoulder talking to her as you shut the door.

Maybe working with them wouldn't be so bad. Maybe you'd even learn how to not be a total mess around famous people or maybe you could even make new friends. It was a nice thought you decided, they both seemed genuinely nice to you and you could always use new connections to get yourself out there a bit more.

>>>

It only took 4 hours and a shit ton of retouches on everyone's makeup to finally get to your break for the day. Your feet were sore, your whole body felt like it'd been beat up, and you still hadn't had any caffeine. If you didn't get any in you soon you'd be cast in the next remake of Godzilla.

You quickly jumped at the opportunity to run like the wind when it was announced it was lunch time. Your sprint towards freedom was stopped at the sound of your name being called out. You groaned quietly to yourself, cursing whatever god out there for hating you this much.

All you wanted was a damn coffee, was that too much to ask for?! You didn't think so, but apparently, someone out in the universe had it out for you today.

Fast footsteps sounded from behind you as you stood in your spot. Yes, you were making them come to you because fuck them for not realizing lunch time meant you didn't want to chitchat.

"Wanna grab lunch with us?" Her voice rang from behind you, making you feel like such an asshole for making her walk to you.

You turned around to see the group of people she wanted you to have lunch with. Which included everyone from the set. Not just her and Harry, everyone.

Your eyes widened as you looked at all of them. There was no way you could fake it through lunch with all those people you didn't know looking at you. Expecting you to be able to answer simple questions about yourself. Being able to carry on a semi decent conversation. You were exhausted at the mere thought of trying to not seem like a total nutcase for an entire hour.

"Thanks but I think I'm going to put on a pot of coffee in my trailer." You said as your eyes moved away from the crowd of people back to her. Her face couldn't hide emotions even in the slightest bit. Her eyebrows furrowed, lips rolled into her mouth, trying to not look disappointed but you could see the hint of it lingering behind her eyes.

"Sure. Have a good lunch." She said in a soft voice that made your heart feel like it was getting ripped out of your chest.

You stood and watched long enough to see her shaking her head at Harry. His arm around her shoulder as he frowned down at her before looking up to you. A soft smile across his lips before he bent down to say something lowly in Florence's ear.

You turned on the spot and headed for your trailer. A sigh of relief left you the second the door closed. You were always the type that needed recharge time. You had to be alone for a bit here and there during the day so you could unwind. Wash all the anxiety from being around people off you.

You hit the playlist you had saved on your phone as your chill out music. The coffee pot in your trailer gurgled in the background over your music. The slow soft beats filled the air around you. Swirling beautiful with the scent of the coffee.

You lived for this shit.

"Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise.

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies."

You were at the best moment, the cup of coffee in your hand, your voice echoing the words of the song you had a slight obsession with when a knock came from your door.

"Shit!" You yelled when the coffee from your cup splashed out at your knee-jerk reaction to the interruptive knock. The hot liquid barely missed you but still… you could cry over spilled coffee, right?

You threw down a towel you had in arms reach on the floor before scurrying to the door. Hoping it was Olivia here to tell you that she decided to go in a different direction and needed to replace you as head makeup artist.

"Scares like a cat." Harry said more to Florence than you when your head poked out of the door. You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile forming on your lips.

"You made me spill my coffee." You said with a fake pout. Harry's eye brightened as his dimpled smile came across his face.

"Good, we brought you something better." Florence chimed in, a cup of something that definitely wasn't coffee in her hand was now glaring at you. A bag of take out boxes in another.

"Ew." You scrunched your nose as you looked at the offensive cup. Your hand finally opened the door enough for them both to slip in.

"You guys didn't have to bring me lunch." You brows furrowed. Why were they being so nice to you? You had no idea. You weren't really the friendly type, not until you warmed up to people at least.

"Noticed yeh didn't 'ave lunch with yeh. Can't run on coffee and no food." Harry shrugged slightly. Like it wasn't a big deal that they somehow managed to notice you had no lunch with you that day. Your confusion grew more by the second. Maybe this was how people became friends? You weren't entirely sure.

"Love this song." Harry muttered before he plopped down on the love-seat in your trailer. His feet kicked up on the coffee table, obviously making himself at home in your space.

"It's a good one but nothing tops 'Dreams'." You said as you took a seat on one of your makeup chairs, Florence sat on the other side of Harry.

"You two have the same bad taste in music." She groaned as she fished out the first take out box from the bag she had in her hand. Your shocked gasp made her pause.

"How dare you say that about our Lord and Savior, Stevie Nicks. You should be ashamed of yourself." Your dramatic voice and Harry's laughter of agreement made her roll her eyes at you both. Quickly going back to unpacking the bag they brought for all three of you.

"Want us to turn on 'Wonderwall' for you?" You asked through a voice cracked with laughter. Her green eyes immediately snapped to yours, narrowing at you.

"Fuckin' hell, that was a good one." Harry mumbled out, his arm wrapped around her as he smiled widely at her fake pouting.

"See if I bring you lunch ever again." She mumbled under her breath. Finally done unloading the three take out boxes and all the utensils out of the bag.

You gave her a fake pout. Her eyes rolled when she handed you the box. You were too curious for your own good most of the time, right now though, you were scared to open this box and some weird ass Hollywood "lunch" would be staring back at you.

Harry's amused eyes kept meeting yours when you'd look up from your box to whatever the hell they were eating. Nothing but rabbit food and not the good kind either, whatever they were managing to shovel down their throats smelled like rotten eggs. You were trying your best to not be a whiny brat about getting free lunch when you heard Harry let out a chuckle from his side of the room. Florence immediately looked up to see you staring blankly at the box in front of you.

"Gonna open it up, kitten?" Harry asked with an infuriating smug smile on his lips. Your eyes rolled at the nickname but you couldn't deny it stirred something in you.

"We didn’t get you steamed kale." Florence giggled when the sigh of relief left you.

"Thank fuck. I thought I was going to have to gag that crap down." You smiled when you opened the box. A plate of harmless looking pasta sat in front of you. All the carbs and wonderful goodness in the world that you absolutely adored.

Leave the healthy shit for them, you thought.

"Wait!" She yelled from across the room, you jumped slightly at the loud sound making Harry laugh. "Got to try this first."

"No way. I'd rather eat the stinky kale then whatever's in this." You tried to push your hand away from the drink she was adamantly trying to hand you.

"Come on. Jus' fo' fun, yeah? Never 'ave to try anything new again with us if yeh don't like it." Harry said. Florence head snapped around to him quickly before looking back at you. A curt nod of her soft blonde curls told you she agreed with him.

You took the cup from her. Cautiously opening the lid to peak at the color of the drink. A bright green color stared back at you. Your nose scrunched up at the sight but the smell wasn't the worst, not compared to the steamed green leaves the other two were eating.

"Bottoms up. If I die, tell my parents I was forced to drink this." You mumbled out right before downing half the cup of cold green liquid. You hoped if you chugged it the way you did cheap beer when you were 19 would mean you wouldn't taste it much.

You were wrong but surprisingly you were thankfully you got a good taste because it was fucking delicious.

Your eyes brightened when you took the next sip. Slower this time to actually enjoy the drink.

"Told yeh she'd like it." Harry said with a smug smile across his face. The look of triumph directed toward Florence who pushed his shoulder with her own at his comment.

"Sod off, Harold."

"This is really good." You said in between drinks. A very prominent caffeine buzz started to hit you by the time you'd finished the last drop.

"Got more caffeine too." Harry smiled brightly. Florence rolled her eyes as she stabbed a piece of kale with her fork.

"Yeah, well, the pasta was my idea and I'm sure she'll love it." She grumbled like it was some sort of contest between them.

It didn’t take long for you to realize you actually liked hanging out with the both of them. They were able to keep up a conversation with ease, even whenever you didn't feel like talking they both could somehow sense it. They weren't draining to be around, which really surprised you.

The both of them could joke and tease. You and Florence ganged up on Harry. Harry and you on her. Florence and Harry on you. Nonstop teasing, jokes, and enough laughter you could feel your cheeks ache by the end of lunch.

You definitely could see yourself being genuine friends with both of them.

>>>

To say you three managed to get close fast was an understatement. You three practically became inseparable by the end of the first week of shooting. If all three of you weren't together at least two of you were and the other one wasn't far behind.

It quickly became a joke on set. People constantly had to find where the three of you had snuck off to. Which was usually to the food table that was set up for the actors but Harry insisted that it was for everyone, even though you knew it wasn't.

He didn't care though, he just wanted to make sure you actually ate for the day and not just down caffeinated drinks for a meal. Florence on the other hand, was more than willing to invite you to lunch every single day. Her pleas for you to join the two of them was impossible to turn down after a while.

You figured it was pointless anyways since they brought back food for you every time you said you weren't hungry. So today was the day you'd finally gave in to her cute pouting.

"This place looks like they have those really small dishes that cost more than my rent." You mumbled to Florence as you approached the building that looked like it had jumped out of a magazine.

"You'll love it!" She beamed brightly from beside you. You wanted to believe her, you really did, but you were more of a cheap bar food type of girl. In fact, the bar by your house now knew you by name whenever you walked through the door. Which was only slightly pathetic, but you didn't have many friends and you weren't that good at making new ones, so you weren't in any position to hurt her feelings by not liking this place.

Her hand slipped casually into yours as you neared closer to the building. Harry rounded the corner from parking his car right before you two crossed the street. His long legs stride easily over to you two, his arm around your shoulder.

That was another thing that had threw you a bit off guard at first. They both were so touchy. Your hair, your face, holding hands, hugging, hands resting on your thigh. One of them always had a hand on you any time they could. It was a little strange at first but you quickly realized this was just how they were with you.

And you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't enjoy it now.

"I can feel yeh bein' nervous from 'ere." Harry said so closely to your ear you could feel the soft touches of his lips against you.

Your breathing seemed to stop for a second before you swallowed the feeling and turned to him. Eyes wide as you glanced back to Florence, trying to tell him to shut up before she realized you didn't want to be eating French cuisine.

He chuckled, shaking his head before pulling you back to the table that was already set up for you guys.

This was fancy and you were so out of place. The small table in the corner tucked you guys away from everyone. The stark white linen over the table had you anxious from the moment you sat down. Who the fuck puts white on a table?! At least the dim lighting had your back. This way no one could see you choke on a snail as you faked your way through this lunch.

Florence hand rested on one of your legs, Harry's on the other, both of them deliberately choosing to ignore your anxious feet tapping on the floor.

"Sweetheart?" Harry called you out of your panic from looking at the menu that was in French. Screw your 14 year old self for taking 4 years of Spanish in high school. "I can order fo' yeah if you want."

"Oh, I think I'm gonna have the, um…" you paused, squinting at the menu of fancy font. "Langue de boeuf?"

"Okay, 'm not lettin' yeh eat tongue." Harry snickered when your nose scrunched up. Who in their right mind would ever want to eat that?

"Wait…" Florence said as she sat down her menu in front of her with her one free hand. Your eyes glinting over to see her looking so confused, yet so adorable with her scrunched brows pulled together. Her head tilted as she blinked a few times at you. "Do you- do you not like French food?"

"I've just… never had it before." You settled for a half-truth, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

"Your last name is François!" She said as her cheeks turned flaming red. Harry's snicker from beside you did nothing to help her embarrassment. Your hand quickly squeezed his, hard, under the table to tell him to stop.

"I'm adopted," You smiled widely at her surprised expression. It's not like she knew you were adopted and she really was being so sweet planning all this out, thinking you'd feel at home here. "And the only thing French about my dad is he knows how to say beget."

"God, I'm so sorry, if- if I'd known, I'd neve-"

"Flor, please," you smiled as you took her hands away from fiddling with her menu. "I never told you. It's not a big deal. Besides, now you two can order for me in your fancy French words."

You dismissed her worrying with a wave of your hand and a gently prod of the menu. If anything, this was the most heartwarmingly considerate thing anyone had ever done for you. At least she tried to include things with the three of you that you'd also like.

When the, equally nervous as you, waiter finally approached your table to take your drink orders you were glad those two were handling everything. It felt sort of like being spoiled and you'd take that any day of the week.

"I know you." The waiter, Grayson you learned from his name tag, said after a few awkward seconds of standing in front of the table. You were only half listening, assuming it was for either one of the obviously famous people sitting beside you. "Yeah! That's right you're Y/N Y/L/N-François!"

Your eyes widened, cheeks heated as you squirmed in your seat. Both Florence and Harry looking back and forth between you and your new fan.

"God, your makeup on insta is amazing. The special effects stuff is so good. Really, I'm a big fan." He gushed as you mumbled out a small thank you, your hand clutching the complementary cup of water in front of you like it was a life raft. "Here, you can have my insta handle. Maybe you can DM sometime."

His movements to start writing down his Instagram information came to a screeching halt when both Harry and Florence shot him glares. The tension grew thick between the three of them. Some sort of a weird show down as you tried to drink your water and ignore the awkwardness.

Maybe they didn't like their friends being bothered at lunch when they were with them? You weren't sure. In all honesty, this never happened to you but you could see why this would be annoying for them. They had to deal with it all the time.

This is what they'd do for any of their friends. Right?

The tension finally eased when the waiter left the table. Your cup finally placed back down on the white linen when you let out a sigh of relief. You weren't one for strangers and they both knew it. Maybe they were just telling that guy to screw off because of your nerves, yeah that was it.

The rest of the lunch went much better than you expected. Conversation between you three was never a problem but even the food was amazing.

The two of them had great taste.

"Come on. Gonna be late if we don't get out of here." Florence mumbled, her hand already in yours as she pulled you out of the seat. You didn't even have time to get a word out when Harry threw down an ungodly wad of money on the table.

"You didn't have to pay for me." You said when he caught up to you. His hand on your lower back as he guided you through the door.

"What kind of date would that be?" Florence said without thinking. Your confused eyes shooting to her briefly before looking at the horrified Harry. "Lunch date, meant lunch date, with friends."

"Oh," you said, still a bit confused but chugging through it so you didn't have any awkward conversations. "Still, thank you."

Harry's tensed shoulders relaxed when he gave you a nodd. His eyes shot daggers to Florence over your head as you three started walking.

"I'm sorry!" She mouthed silently to him. You were completely oblivious to the mimed conversation between the two as you walked in front of them.

>>>

"Lookin' sweet today, kitten." Harry's voice from behind you made you jump in your skin. Your hand over your chest like that would somehow stop your nerves.

"What's got you all dressed up?" Florence asked as they both stood in front of you on set.

Your hands fiddled with the tight black lace top you had on. It complemented your bust so well but it made you feel awkward and out of place, like everyone's eyes were on you. Plus the pants that hugged your ass tighter than cling wrap weren't helping with the shameless stares from people.

"Is- is it too much?" Your words stumbled over themselves as your face heated.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Yeh look gorgeous like always." A slight frown danced on his lips as he looked down towards you. He could tell something was up by your anxious movements. Your eyes flickering around the studio like you were constantly on the lookout for someone.

"Okay," you sighed, your hand running over your hair as you tried to calm yourself down. "You guys know the sound technician, James?"

Their faces solidified to stone at your words. Both of them rigid as they looked at you. Not a hint of emotion detectable in their expressions.

"He asked me out." You felt uneasy, unsure of the decision to go to lunch with him. You felt like you were going to die in a ball of nerves at any second. This was exactly why you didn't date.

Sure, you'd gone on a date here or there. Mostly when your very small friend group got tired of you third wheeling at all the couples activities. You'd then be set up with someone, it wouldn't work out because you were one shred away from being a nutcase, and that would be the end of it.

"You can't go out with him!" Florence said shrilly, her eyes widened as the words came out of her mouth.

"Why?" You asked, eyes glancing over to the guy in question.

"He uh- he uh," she stammered, her hand slapped Harry against his chest twice for him to answer for her.

"He sniffs people!" His words rushed out of his mouth. Your eyebrows scrunched together.

"What?" You asked, as Florence hand rubbed the temple of her head before shooting a deathly glance at Harry.

"Yeah, Harry, what?" She asked, obviously annoyed but you weren't sure why. It wasn't like she was about to go on a date with the guy.

"I saw him. He likes to, uhm, yeh know." Harry looked at the ground before his hands shoved into his pockets. "He sniffs peoples hair."

"Wow," your hopes of going on a date that didn't involve cheap beer and 25 cent chicken wings suddenly blew up into flames. "Well, thanks for telling me."

"It's okay, Y/N, we'll go out to lunch." Florence said softly, her hand in yours as she gidded you off the set.

"Thanks guys." You smiled softly, head rested against Harry's chest as you three walked.

>>>

"We've got to tell her." Florence spoke quietly as she snuggled into Harry's side. His duvet wrapped tightly around the both of them in his oversized bed.

"I don't know.." He glanced at the fallen face of his girlfriend. "This all could backfire and then she won't even want to be friends."

"But, things don't feel right. It's like she's our missing piece." Her bottom lip started to tremble, corners of her eyes held onto tears that she refused to let fall.

"I know, I feel it too." He sighed as he laid back on his pillow. Looking up at the ceiling. A large feeling grew in his stomach, despair. You didn't seem like the type who dated adventurously or tried different things in your life.

He wanted you. God, how they both wanted you. You, their missing piece. Your presence made the both of them feel that indescribable warmth of home in their chest. Your laugh, your smile, your terrible sense of humor, and the way you had no idea just how desirable you really were.

"One of us should make a move on her." Florence said, finally breaking the silence between the two of them.

"Think?"

"Think it'll be the only way to know for sure if she likes one of us or not."

>>>

That Friday morning started like all the other mornings since you'd been on this job. A new mystery cup of tea in your hands that Harry had brought for you that morning. Their makeup was done long ago but now they hid out in your trailer until some intern was forced to go and find them.

This had been your three's new morning routine for the past three weeks and surprisingly, you weren't bothered by having your quiet time interrupted by them. You were actually starting to look forward to these morning's.

"Do you want to come to dinner with us tonight?" Florence asked you from her spot on the love seat. Your head lifted from the trashy magazine you were mindlessly flipping through on the floor. You chuckled as you shook your head at her, turning back to the obvious lies written in ink.

"We won't make yeh eat anythin' weird, kitten." Harry smiled easily when he moved off the couch to sit by you. His arm around your shoulders when you looked up in disbelief.

"I could pick the place." You suggested a cheeky smug smirk across your face when they both looked like you'd asked them for a kidney. "See, I knew you two wanted to eat somewhere gross!"

"You always want tacos!" Florence groaned flinging herself against the now unoccupied side of the couch that Harry previously sat at. A pout on her face as she tried to get you to change your mind.

"I do not." You scoffed. Okay, maybe you did but still those two could use a real meal or two.

"What if we do food and a movie at mine?" Harry asked, interrupting yours and Florence's teasing back and forth.

"Yes!" She agreed eagerly, her bright eyes filled with excitement and you knew you couldn't say no even if you wanted to.

>>>

You had to admit, you were fucking nervous to go to Harry's house. The neighborhood your old Camero chugged through was definitely not like your neighborhood at all. It was all fancy houses, nice lawns, and security everywhere. You felt like you were a step away from breaking into the pentagon when you rolled up to the gate for the guard to let you in.

You stood anxiously on his front step. The 6 pack of Coors Light seemed like such a bad choice now. You mentally cursed yourself for being so stupid, how could you think someone who lived here would be okay with your cheap beer? You were four seconds away from faking a stomach ache and going home to your hole of an apartment when the door opened. Harry's smiling face with that cute little dimple popping out stared at you looking so out of place.

"Don't gotta be nervous, yeh know?" He asked when he took your hand in his, pulling you into the house.

"Well, you did say you two would bite." You crack a smile at his bark of a laugh. Nerves easily washing off you when you made it into his living room.

"Where's Flor?" You asked, eyebrows raised when you turned to him.

It wasn't that you minded being one-on-one with Harry. You two got along great but you figured the blonde would be here already, the two of them seemed inseparable.

"On her way." He shrugged, his ass hitting the seat of the couch, motioning for you to do the same.

"What're we going to watch?" You asked as you sat down beside him, his arm around you when sat back from placing the beer down on the floor.

"Anythin' yeh want." He said, his eyes trained on you as you wracked your brain for a film those two would watch with you without complaining.

"Only watch horror."

"No way, nope. Not watchin' a scary movie. Yeh'll never sleep." He joked, his arm tighter around you as he pulled you into his chest.

"Not sleeping here so it's not gonna be your problem." You poked back, your head leaning against him. God, he smelled amazing.

"Sure yeh are. Got beer with yeh, can't drive drunk, kitten." His fingers lifted your chin when he spoke to you. Your eyes meeting his briefly before they flickered to his lips.

Have they always looked that good? Or was the intoxicating scent of his cologne making you drunk on him?

You couldn't tell and honestly, you could care less what the reason was when his face seemed to inch closer to you. He was going to kiss you, you realized. Your breathing seem to halt in your throat when he was millimeters away from you. His nose pressed lightly to yours, setting your soul on fire.

Your stomach turned and flopped, that familiar chill of desire ran down your spine all the way to your core. Your hands wanted to grip onto him, kiss him with a passion when the doorbell rang.

You jumped in your skin. Your body jerked back from him. Your big round doe-eyes staring blankly into his face. He groaned, eyes squeezed shut, resting his forehead against yours.

"She's got the worst timin'." He muttered before getting up from the couch to answer the door. The breath you'd been holding in released when he left the room.

Did you really about kiss your friend? And not only was he a friend, he was a coworker. You groaned, hands covered your face as it burned in embarrassment. What the hell were you thinking? You knew better than to ever mix business and feelings, especially when it came to famous people.

Florence entering the room with her sweet smile put a stop to your insanely degrading thoughts. You'd simply just pretend this never happened. Push it to the back of your mind and forget it, yeah that would be the solution.

>>>

"Why do we gotta watch this scary shit?" Florence asked, her hands covering her eyes as Jason stalked through the forest after innocent teenagers.

"You've literally acted in horror movies." You smiled at her glare she shot at you. Her head laid on your shoulder as she whined loudly. Harry sat on the other side of her, his hand rested on her thigh.

You had no idea how to even begin to feel about that. An hour ago he was trying to kiss you and now he was rubbing her thigh. You didn't understand but refused to acknowledge the fact that the kiss almost even happened.

There was definitely tension between the three of you, awkward feelings floating in the air around his oversized living room. You tried your best to shove it down, to ignore whatever happened with you and Harry, especially since Florence was here and you had no idea what she would think.

"Let's take shots." She said as she flipped off the TV right as Jason's machete swung wildly through the air towards screaming teenagers.

"Trying to get us drunk?" Harry chuckled as he stood and walked to the kitchen. That smile on his face that could melt hearts.

"Duh. You two are being weird." She said as she eyed you up. Your face heating so much you swore you'd burst into flames. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just you know, stupid stuff." You waved your hand, dismissing her question. An unbelieving hum coming from her as Harry came back in with a bottle of tequila and shot glasses.

"Oh fuck," you groaned at the sight of the bottle, your old enemy that made you say the dumbest shit glared back at you.

"Gonna be able to keep up, kitty?" Harry asked as he sat down a full shot glass in front of you on his coffee table.

You wished you'd been the type of person who was smart enough to see a bad idea staring you in the face.

You were not that person.

The shot stung and burned your throat the whole way down your throat. The potent liquid turned your stomach into knots whenever it hit the acid there.

Maybe you'd regret this tomorrow morning but it'd make one hell of a story.

>>>

"Yeh never dated?" Harry asked, the upper half of his body swayed back and forth as he sat crossed legged on the floor of his living room.

"Nope." You answered back before shooting what had to be shot number 10 down your throat. The once burning drink now felt like water when it went down.

"Wait, are you a virgin?" Florence asked, her eyes wide as she stared at you. The serious look on her face made you bust out laughing.

"I'm not a virgin. I just don't date."

"But you're so pretty. Anyone would date you." Florence said, her hand brushing back the hair from your forehead that was beading alcohol induced sweat.

"Don't have the time. Always busy." You said with a sigh. Sure, you wanted to date but your working schedule made it impossible. You couldn't even have a cat you were so busy and you fucking loved cats.

"Ever date more than one person at the same time?" Harry asked when he looked up from his shot that sat in front of him. Testing the waters, he thought, if you said you'd never do that at least you'd be likely to not remember the next day.

"Nah." You shrugged, completely missing the look Florence shot Harry's way. A warning to not push the subject.

"Y'could." He suggested as the warm feeling of sleep started to surround your body. Your eyes feeling more and more heavy by the second.

"That means two people would actually have to like me." You gave a short laugh. Your eyes closing, head falling back to lay on the couch. You'd only rest them for a second, you thought.

"We like you." Florence said quietly from beside you. Her statement being answered with your soft snores.

"She's never gonna agree to it." Harry mumbled, the shot in front of him finally being thrown to the back of his throat.

"But-" Florence started, her hands running over your hair. "I don't know, Harry. I just like her so much. Things feel right when she's around."

"I know, sweetheart." He said as he stood from his spot. His arms encircled you, picking you up as Florence stood from her spot on the floor. The two of them and the passed out you made your way to his room. The big plush bed you would have loved was soft under your body. Your hands closed around the pillow under your head.

"I wanna keep her." Florence said as she laid down beside you. Her hand rested over yours as Harry climbed into bed on the other side of you.

"M'too but I think I scared her when I tried to kiss her." He said quietly, the both of them speaking in whispers over top of you.

Florence sighed, her lips pouting as she stared at your resting face. She knew weeks ago she liked you. Knew from the moment you laughed wholeheartedly at her terrible jokes that she wanted you. The same gleam bounced in Harry's eyes whenever he looked at you but you never noticed.

You never took any of their flirting seriously. Never paid a second thought to them asking you out or trying to take you to nice places.

It made a bit more sense to them now that they knew you never dated but how the hell could you not pick up on their shameless flirtation? Harry called you kitten for God's sake.

"Jus' gonna 'ave to be blunt." Harry said a while later. The both of them doing nothing else but listening to your soft snores.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow."

>>>

You woke up the next morning to a pounding in your head. Your eyes barely saw anything through the foggy vision of your sleepy eyes. You swallowed down that dry feeling in your throat - water, you needed water.

You groaned softly as you pushed yourself up from the bed that wasn't your own. You knew you'd end up crashing the night at Harry's but you didn't expect to end up in the same bed with him, with both of them.

You figured that was honestly better than you and Harry alone in the bed together, at least you know you didn't do anything with Florence laying next to you two.

You slipped out of bed, easily. The both of them didn't move a muscle as you snuck out of the house and towards your car. Maybe it was rude for you to run off like this but you needed to nurse your hangover at your own place.

You sighed, throwing your phone on your cluttered kitchen table when you finally made it home. The traffic was awful and of course everyone was laying on their horns like that would somehow help the long line of idle cars.

Your head was killing you when you sat in your shower. The water running over you was warm and much-needed. The hangover seemed to wash down the drain with your lavender soap.

You were calm, in your element, when frantic knocking at your door interrupted your shower. You cursed under your breath, cutting off the water quickly. Hoping it wasn't your elderly neighbor who always seemed to need help moving boxes on Saturday's.

"I'm coming, Ms. Thompson!" You yelled as the knocking grew more frantic. Your bathrobe tightly around you when you opened the door. The both of them looked like a mess of anxiety and worry.

"Uh, hi?" You said with the door barely opened enough for your head to stick out. Water dripping off you collected on the floor at your feet.

"Hi? Seriously?" Florence growled, her usually sweet and calm voice laced with irritation as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at you.

"Where's yeh phone? We thought you wondered off in the middle of the night or sumthin'. We were bloody worried, Y/N." Harry said as you opened the door for them to come in.

"It's dead." You gestured to the useless piece of technology sitting on your table. Harry hands ran over his face as he shook his head. Florence's lips pursed as they both looked anywhere but at you.

"Am I missing something?" You finally asked after what felt like hours. "'Cause I feel like I'm being scolded by my parents right now."

"You can't be serious. God, Y/N," Florence fumed in a way you'd never seen before. The confusion in your mind growing larger by the second. "What would we have done if something happened to you?

"Uhhh…" your eyebrows furrowed together as you looked towards Harry for help. You had no idea what the hell you did to make them so worried about you.

"Can yeh sit down?" Harry asked you, his head nodded in a gesture towards your couch. Anxiety crawled through your skin as you walked over to sit on your plain and basic couch.

Harry's hands smoothing down the front of his pants and Florence foot tapping like mad on your floors did nothing to calm your racing mind. All three of you sat in tension on your couch. You were sandwiched between the both of them. Their shoulders pressed tightly against yours and maybe if it was under different circumstances you'd enjoy the close contact.

"We like you." Florence blurted out into the silence of your living room.

Your widening eyes looked at her in complete disbelief until you burst with laughter. The snorting chuckling sounds died quickly when they both seemed to clam up.

"You're serious?" You asked, both of them seemed too nervous to answer at first. Harry's concerned filled eyes connecting with yours briefly before looking at the ground, his hands, his rings. Anywhere else.

"We do but we get if 's weird fo' yeh. We can just forget it if yeh want us to go back to bein' friends." He rushed out nervously as you let out a breath of air.

"I'm just surprised someone, who doesn't sniff people, likes me." You mumbled, hand pushing back your damp hair out of your face. Harry's snort of a laugh and a shake of his head had your eyebrows pulled together before Florence called your attention again with her nerve wrecked voice.

"I can't believe you didn't notice." Her hands fiddled together with nerves. "We kept asking you out."

"I'm a bit dense." You said with a short laugh.

"Whaddya say?" Harry asked as he took his hand in yours. Florence doing the same with the other. Flutters in your stomach blossomed at their touch. One hand, soft and silky like satin, the other, rough and calloused at the tips but smooth towards the palm.

You swallowed the nerves down. Your mind filled with so many doubts, so many thoughts all at the same time. Anxiousness mixed with excitement. It was new, different, and you had so many questions.

"How- how would this work?" You asked, both sets of eyes brightening at your words.

"How ever you want." Florence rushed out. The prospect of you actually considering this had her heart racing almost out of her chest. Really, she'd agree to anything you wanted as long as it included you three being exclusive.

"We… just date?" You asked, your brows furrowed as you stared at your hands. Your mind trying to turn out the logistics was going to drive you absolutely insane.

"Well, yes but y'know… the three of us." Harry gestured to the three of you.

"Won't someone get jealous?" You asked him, your head tilted to the side as you watched his lips purse in consideration.

"Guess if one of us gets jealous we gotta talk 'bout it. Work it out." He said, Florence nodding her head in agreement from beside you.

"And.." you started to get nervous about your next question, the one that had been blaring in your mind since this conversation started. "The sex?"

"Already tryin' to bed us, kitten?" Harry joked as Florence shot him a glare. Your face heated and eyes widened, maybe this was a bad idea, you were already about to die from embarrassment.

"Shut up." She whispered yelled from beside you like you wouldn't be able to hear it. Harry's eyes rolled in his head that smug smirk on his face.

"We don't have to talk about that for a while if you don't want to. We can figure it out later." Florence said softly from beside you. Her hand taking yours again, her thumb ran soothing circles against the back of it.

You shrugged, your lip between your teeth as you thought about what it'd be like to have both of them. A familiar heat worked up in the bottom of your stomach.

God, even just picturing it was getting you started. You could only imagine what it'd be like when it actually happened.

"The little minx." Harry laughed as he leaned up to look at you the thoughts you were thinking clearly wrote across your face. "Think she wants t'give it a try before settling on an answer, Flor."

"Hmm," she hummed from beside you, a smile cracked on her face as she brushed the damp hair off your shoulder. "Think she needs some more convincing?"

"Yeah, looks like it to me." Harry words floated over you, through the air above you. Your mind tried to desperately grab at the words, make sense of them, but it was useless. You were already gone at the mere prospect of the rest of the day's events.

"Can I kiss you?" Her word brought you down to earth but only barely.

Her plush lips made you forget how sentences form or words could be spoken in the English language when they hesitantly met yours. They were soft, not demanding to take control. She let you come to her. Let you set the pace that you were comfortable with.

Your hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her addictive gently touch harder into you. A heavenly sounded moan slid from her mouth when your tongue slipped its way in. You could have gotten lost in the way you moved so insync with each other when she pulled back.

Your deep breathing and closed eyes made her grin widely. Maybe you would be okay with this arrangement.

Harry's hand in yours again got your attention. Eyes snapped open to see the pretty blonde in front of you smiling smugly.

"Can I kiss yeh?" His thick accent somehow sounded richer in this moment. Your head turned to the other side to see his usually bright green eyes darken with lust. The sight of him like that could keep you satisfied for a month, maybe longer.

"Yes." You barely had the word out of your mouth when his lips pressed forcefully to yours. Demanding movements of his mouth led you in the kiss, determined hands grabbed your hips to lift you onto his lap. The sudden movement through you off balance. Your ass hitting his very prominent boner made you moan.

Holy shit, how the hell were you supposed to handle all of that?

You whimpered as he pulled you back from him. His hands running under the robe to your unclothed ass. His calloused fingers felt rough against your skin as he groaned, his head against the back of the couch as Florence moved over beside you two.

"We can stop 'ere." Harry said through gritted teeth when your hips moved over his, chasing the feeling of his retreating hands.

Florence hummed her agreement as you sat back fully on Harry's lap. Your mind ran circled around you. The last thing you were thinking right now was quitting this.

"I want to see you kiss." You said through your nerves both their wide eyes blinked up at you. Not thinking you'd be wanting to go any further.

Florence acted quickly, her hands on either one of Harry's cheeks as she pulled his lips to hers. The two of them were obviously familiar with the other. They'd been doing this for a while, you assumed.

Whatever worries you had about being jealous or not liking the three of you together all at one time quickly went out the window. They were fucking hot together. The sight of them wrestling for the lead sent a flood of arousal straight to your core. Your hips grinding against Harry's lap, desperate for any friction.

"Think we got her answer." Harry mumbled into Florence's mouth, a smile on his lips as she laughed. Your face heated as she faced you with that sweet smile.

"We better make sure she doesn't change her mind then."

>>>

It was an absolute mess of limbs as you three rushed to the bedroom. Lips against lips, tongues sliding against one another's to a point you weren't sure where Harry started and Florence ended.

"Gonna make yeh feel so good, princess." Harry's deep voice vibrated against you. His lips pressed tightly to your ear, turned upwards at the corners in a sinful smile. His hands gripped the back of your legs tighter, bringing them closer to God and you further and further away from ever having a front row ticket to the pearly gates.

If this was why you went to hell, it'd be fucking worth it.

Her teeth grazed the inside of your bare thighs. Just enough to get your attention back to her pretty head of blonde hair between your legs. Harry's head against your shoulder as he watched her work you into an absolute mess of whines and she hadn't even done anything yet.

"So sensitive, baby." She smiled against your skin. Her perfect white teeth biting a bit harder into you before sucking the flesh of your inner thigh into her mouth. Marking you as theirs.

You whimpered, head against Harry's shoulder as your fingers dug deep into his forearms that were holding your legs open for Florence. His throbbing erection leaking a river against your ass every time you squirmed in place.

Hot breath fanned against your core. Her dainty fingers ran through your exposed folds and maybe, if you had more shame, you would have held back the pornographic moan that came from you. But you couldn't help it, they'd been absolutely teasing you relentlessly. Wanting to see how you ticked.

"Please, fuck," your hoarse voice cracked as you looked down at her. She was laid on her stomach arms crossed in front of her as she shamelessly studied you. "Flor, please."

"We're getting there." She mumbled, her fingers stopped their movements, one finger slipped into your absolutely dripping pussy.

"Fuck." Harry breathed out as another moan fell from you. A subtle shift from his hips had another wet spot starting on your back.

"She's soaked, Harry." Florence held up her fingers that were doused in you up for him to inspect. A hum coming from him as he kissed against your neck that was littered with marks he'd left.

"Think y'can give us that answer now, pretty girl?" He smiled at your defiant 'humph', you were going to be so much fun to tease. "Come on, wanna hear y'say it. Then, yeh can get what y'want."

You debated it for a second, your pride or your relief.

"I wanna be your girlfriend." You mumbled through nerves. Never one to be vocal during sex wasn't going to be an option with them.

"Didn't hear yeh."

"Fuck," you groaned, face heating to blazing temperatures you didn't know existed outside of the sun. "I want to be your two's girlfriend!"

"No need to yell, baby." Florence said with a smug smile up to you.

"You both ca--" you started to tell them both to shove off when her tongue finally, finally, ran across your swollen clit.

You swore your eyes actually rolled back in your head.

"Told yeh we'd give yeh what you wanted." That smug smirk on his face as he watched you starting to fall apart.

Her tongue was flat and thick against your folds. Wild and untamed in it's adventures to find all the spots that made your toes curl. Her moans from your taste echoed through you.

"Holy shit," she breathed out, her mouth disconnected from you only briefly. Her thumb pressed on your clit, rubbing lightly. "Gotta taste her for yourself."

"Will after yeh finish. Don't wanna hog her all to m'self."

You felt like you were going to explode. Here there were, casually talking about you like you weren't even there. It was so fucking hot.

Her hands grasped onto Harry's thighs as her whole face practically buried itself into your core. You'd been eaten out before, but not like this.

Her tongue switched so effortlessly between slow, thick, long, strides to quick, tight, circles on your throbbing bundle of nerve endings. She seemed to be a step away from reading your mind. Two fingers pushing into you right when you needed them the most.

"Gonna cum, pup?" Harry grunted against your skin. His eyes never left the absolutely sinful scene in front of him. Kisses pressed against your neck, your shoulder, anywhere he could reach.

"Yes, fuck, oh-" your voice carried through your small apartment. So loud, so lustful, you didn't even recognize it was yours at first. Her fingers hitting that spot inside you so perfectly, your tightening walls couldn't take it anymore.

A release in a way you've never experienced before finally hit you. Your whole body shivered from the force of it. Eyes closed tightly, head against Harry's shoulder. It was so good it almost hurt.

When you finally started to surface from that hazy feeling of pure bliss you were being lowered onto the bed. Your legs that had been held open for so long ached and throbbed but it was so fucking worth it.

"Think y'can handle another one?" Harry smiled down to you as he hovered over the bed. Florence settling beside you, her hand over your hair to calm you down.

"Yeah." You barely breathed out, eyes connected with hers briefly. How the hell could someone look so sweet and adorable after wrecking you?

You hummed, head leaning up to give her a kiss. Lips connected with hers as you reached for Harry's hand. His cool rings relieved the burning hot skin of your hands as you pulled him to your guys level.

His lips replaced hers against yours. His hands taking time to explore the curves of your body, your chest. Fingers dancing against your budded nipples. Your overly sensitive body was aching for another release as you moaned into his smirking mouth. His hand kneading your flesh in brand new ways.

"Ass up, sweetheart." His cocky tone of voice had your heart beat picking right back up as you turned over onto your knees. You rested on your elbows, hand motioning for Florence to lay in front of you. Her eyes widened as she stared you down.

"Well, don't be shy." You smiled as she crawled over to you, her legs laid open on the bed as your arms wrapped around her thighs.

"Just, just, surprised this is happening." Her words stumbled out as your tongue started to explore her folds the way hers had done. Gently soft pressure against her core, hardly enough to taste her, teasing.

Payback for them taunting you in the beginning.

Her breathing caught in her throat, her elbows barely keeping her upright when you finally got a good taste of her and fuck, was she delicious. You moaned, hands dug into her thighs as your tongue slipped into her tight hole.

You could do this the rest of your fucking life.

Harry's distraction finally broke when Florence's eyes opened again. Green eyes meeting green eyes as her hand tugged your head down harder into her core. His tongue wet his lips before his hand traveled down between your legs, fuckin' hell you were soaking almost down to your knees.

He wanted to be gentle with you, soft, loving. Show you how much he liked you but when you shifted your ass back into him. Wiggling back and forth for him, he couldn't help himself. You little temptress. His hand landed firmly on your ass and what he didn't expect was the full fledged roar of a moan that came from you. His dick twitched from the sound.

"Fuck," your voice muffled by the her silky wet cunt. Her hand lifting your head up just enough to see your eyes as Harry started to slide into your velvet cave. His hand bruising your hip as he cursed under his breath.

"Feel good, H?" Florence wore that smug smile as his lust blown eyes met hers. His snappy comments and witty attitude put at bay by your contracting walls having a hard time keeping up with his girth.

"God, sweet girl, your pussy is fuckin' tight." He thrusted a bit further into your narrow opening, your hands dug deep into Florence's legs as you whimpered. Her hands ran over your hair as she shushed you.

"Oh my g--" you choked out as he finally settled fully in you. His hands pulled the round flesh of your ass back to see where you two were connected. He pulled out only a little just to push slowly back in. His head fall to his chest as your vortex sucked him back in. "Move, please, move."

Your hips only swayed slightly before he was pounding into you. You were thankfully you had a job in front of you to do or else you would have been reaching another orgasm in mere seconds. His length hitting that spot inside of you every single time.

You had to force yourself to concentrate, to not let your eyes roll back into your head whenever he pumped into you. Your tongue ran circles around her clit, your fingers slid into her easy. Nothing but moans filled your small apartment, your bed creaking from how hard he was thrusting into you.

You felt so sorry for your downstairs neighbors.

Her hand tightened in your hair as his hand tightened around your hip. You were pushed, pulled, tugged, manhandled, and holy fuck was it making your walls clench tighter. Your tongue was more determined than ever to make fast work of getting her off when you felt your fast approaching end over the horizon.

"Oh, oh," she moaned her hips bouncing down on your face as she fucked herself on your tongue and fingers.

"'M close." Harry grunted from behind you, his hand slapping down on your ass again.

You didn’t have the time or capacity to enjoy the stinging pain that went through your body. Tingling sensation all the way through your core when you felt the walls against your fingers start to contract. A wildly erotic moan came from her as Harry's hand reached around to rub fast pace circles on your clit.

Stars danced along your vision as your release hit you. Sloppy thrust of Harry's hips slowed down as a warmth filled you. Overrunning from your puffy, abused, pussy down your legs to the bedspread. Your body collapsed into the open arms of your now girlfriend as Harry leaned over your back.

"Why'd we wait so long to do that?" You asked once your mind cleared from the fog of your two orgasms. Laughs came from in front and behind you. Chaste kisses against whatever available skin was in their reach.

"We could always do it again, love."

#Harry Styles #Florence Pugh #Harry Styles x Reader #Florence Pugh x Reader #Harry Styles Fanfic #Florence Pugh Fanfic #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Florence Pugh Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction #W|W #Harry Styles x Florence Pugh #Writing #Mine #InTheMiddle #Harry Styles x You #Harry Styles x Y/N #Florence Pugh x You #Florence Pugh x Y/N

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raybyanothername · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker Characters: Harley Keener, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds Additional Tags: Background Relationships, Big Brothers, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism Summary:

When in doubt, call for help.

Five times Peter calls Harley for help and one time Harley calls Peter.

If you like this fic and are feeling generous: https://ko-fi.com/raybyanothername

Harley was elbows deep in an engine when his phone started ringing. He grumbled, pulling his hands out and slid from beneath his mother's sedan with a few grunts and one curse word. He managed to avoid tripping over his own feet as he stood, catching himself on the workbench. He tapped the green button without looking at the screen.

"I screwed up Harley," the voice was soft, light and the teenage boy on the other end of his phone was sniffling. "I screwed up and now Tony's pissed at me, May's mad, and I don't know how to fix it."

"Pete," Harvey said his name slowly, "What happened?"

This was the moment Harley Keener, age 17, realized he had more than one younger sibling. And spiders were harder than sisters.

"So… Tony took your suit?" Harley's eyes scrunched together.

"Yeah. He said if I'm nothing without the suit than I shouldn't have it." Peter had stopped sniffling now, which Harley took to mean that the crying portion of the evening was done. His voice was still a wavering whisper.

Harley sighed, plopping down from his perch on the work table to open his minifridge. "You're making me agree with Tony. And I was really looking forward to arguing with him."

"What?!" Peter screeched, "But. I'm Spiderman, I can't just disappear!"

"You're also 15." Harley rolled his eyes, already prepared for sputters and rambling defense. "You've quit most of your hobbies, Pete. All the stuff you use to enjoy. Just to be Spiderman."

Peter squawked, "Just?!"

"Dude, you have your whole life to be a super hero." Harley wished he lived closer to New York so he could show up in Queens with ice cream and a foam bat. "You only get a few years as a kid."

"So, what? I just stop being Spiderman?"

Maybe Tony would pay for a plane ticket?

"Technically, you were Spiderman before Tony gave you a suit." Harley grabbed a soda from his fridge, he popped the top one handed. "But. You could also take a break. See what being Peter Parker is like again."

Peter was quiet for a minute. "Just Peter Parker?"

"Just?!" Harley mimicked Peter's earlier outrage. Peter chuckled. "Peter Parker is way more than Spiderman. Just like Tony is more than Iron Man."

Peter was quiet again. Harley drank his soda, slurping loudly so Peter could hear him. The teen started laughing again, "You're way better at explaining this than Tony was."

"Who do you think lectures him about it?" Harley grinned to himself. They answered simultaneously.

"Rhodey."

"So... why's May mad?" Harley asked as he started back towards his workbench.

Peter's laugh turned nervous, "I…kinda got detention. For ditching school."

Harley paused in his step, "Dude. You screw up our plans for MIT, I will kick your ass. Spider powers be damned." He took another drink, "Speaking of, does Ned own a foam bat?"

-.-.-

>>> Help!!!

Harley looked at the three exclamation marks as he walked out of class. He started walking towards Amherst St as he typed out a response to Ned.

>>> What's Peter doing now?

>>> Planning.

Oh. That could not be good. Harley checked his watch and then tapped on his phone app. Peter picked up quickly, which meant Karen had redirected him.

"Ned is concerned." Wind whistled. Definitely swinging.

"It's a perfectly good plan!" Peter's voice was huffed. The wind stopped. Peter cleared his throat, "It's way better than his European bachelors plan!"

Harley stopped mid-step, "What is Ned planning to do to the European bachelors?" Someone jostled him from behind and Harley kept walking.

"No," Peter scoffed, "We'd be bachelors in Europe. Pick up women in every city sort of deal."

"Given that you're both awkward and completely inept at flirting -" Peter screeched "- I agree, that's a horrible plan." Harley punched in his code at the entrance to his dorm.

Peter immediately launched a defense, "I'm not completely inept! I got the most popular girl in school to go with me to Homcoming onc-"

"Then you ditched her to take down a supervillain.

"- And! I'm smooth, like I'm a superhero, so obviously I have killer moves."

Harley snorted, "Are you or are you not currently standing atop a building in your suit talking to midair." Peter shut up. "And gesturing! I'd be missing a key part of the whole scene if I forgot the hand gestures."

"Okay…you may have a point." Peter grumbled. Harley smiled to himself as he climbed the stairs. He'd just reached his room when Peter finally broke under the pressure of silence. "But my plan to ask MJ out will totally work!"

Aha! MJ. He should have known.

"Please," Harley threw his bag on his bed and took a seat at his desk, "Enlighten me." He kicked his feet up onto the desk as he leaned the chair back onto two legs.

Peter immediately jumped into a thorough explanation of his courtship blueprint, "So it starts on the plane…"

-.-.-

There was a loud ringing in Harley's ear that wouldn't stop. He groaned and pushed at the large piece of a building on his chest. At least he was fairly positive the debris was from a building. That had been what the dude with the superpowers had thrown at him.

"How the hell did Tony handle a moon?" Harley whined as the repulsors in his hand blew the rubble away. He stood on shakey feet. At least the superpowered maniac had been subdued by his drones. "Nate, damage report?"

Harley shook his head as his A.I. began listing out his injuries. Nothing major, just a few bruised ribs and a possible concussion. The damage to the area was worse, several of the buildings were missing sections of walls, even foundations.

"Dude, couldn't you have given some consideration to structural integrity?!" Harley aimed his shout at the person he'd just taken into custody. Given the way they were snarling and struggling against their restraints, Harley considered the chance of a response minimal.

"Shall I reach out to the Xavier Institute?" Nate's electronic voice filtered through Harley's ear. He merely nodded and within minutes Nate had an E.T.A blinking in the upper corner of his display.

It was longer than Harley was hoping for. His dream of a nice long soak before bed was looking more like a quick shower at this point. He blamed Tony. It was his idea, and his requirement, that Harley sleep a minimum of six hours a night before work. It was in the Young Avengers' contract AND his Stark Industries contract.

"You have an incoming call from Peter Parker." Nate didn't wait for Harley to acknowledge him, he connected Peter immediately.

"If this has anything to with superhumans, metahumans, or a coming apocalypse I must inform you that I'm already at my maximum superhero hours for the week." Harley grinned as Peter's face appeared on his screen. The younger man's face immediately startled, eyes going wide.

In the video call Peter was standing in his dorm room, two ties in his hands, "I just need to know which color I should wear for my presentation…"

"Well, then…" Harley laughed, "Free as a bird. This is the Stark Foundation thing right? The proposals for funding?"

Peter nodded and his voice literally squeaked, "Yeah."

"Purple." Harley ignored both the red and blue ties in Peter's hand. "Everyone always wears red for that and Morgan will be there so she'll get a kick out you wearing Rescue's colors instead."

"Pepper won't think I'm trying to butter her up?" Peter threw the ties in his hand on his bed and started rifling in one of his drawers. He emerged with a triumphant cheer and a purple tie in hand. There were cartoon stars drawn on it in yellow.

Harley grinned at Morgan's attempts to 'brighten up' Peter's wardrobe, "Nah. Rhodey's judging this year." Peter visibly breathed out. "Relax, Pete, your project's good on its own. You deserve the funding, same as everyone else."

"I just don't want anyone to think I'm taking advantage…" Peter averted his eyes. Harley snorted. Peter glared.

"Dude, Tony offered you the money to fund the project outright and you applied for the grant instead," Harley looked pointedly at Peter before rolling his eyes. "Now, put on your tie and try not to stutter."

The sound of a jet landing nearby cut off Peter's attempts to defend himself. Harley smiled before he hung up. It was officially bath time!

-.-.-

There was no doubt in Harley's mind who was calling. The phone hadn't shut up in at least half an hour and there were only three people in his life that persistent. And his little sister was in Bali with Morgan, so that left Peter. Nate would have informed him of any family or Avengers related emergency, so Harley just let it ring. Eventually, it stopped.

God did his head hurt. He had no idea how Tony had ever managed to function back when he drank. Harley barely managed to grab his trash can when the phone started up again.

"Nate!" Harley called out as he crawled from his spot on the floor to the couch. He brought the waste basket with him.

"How may I be of service, *sir*?"

Harley cringed. Nate only sir-ed when he was annoyed. "Will you please tell Peter to call back later? I really can't deal with the noise much longer."

"Of course, sir."

The window in front of Harley darkened and then Peter appeared on his screen. "Harley! I've been calling for an hour!"

"Sh-" Harley groaned and then tried not to get any splatter on his hair as emptied his stomach. Peter gaped at him from the screen.

"Are you…*drunk*?" Peter whispered the word like it was a curse and his eyes even darted around like he expected someone to reprimand him. Which…okay, Harley understood that. "Mr. Stark will be furious! It's 10am!"

Harley glared at him, "I'm hungover, not drunk. And it's Saturday, Pete." Peter looked unconvinced, lips pursed and eyes wide. "What'd'ya need? I need to crawl to my bathtub sometime in the near future."

"What?" Peter's lips quirked and he hid a laugh by biting his tongue. "I…uh, just need some advice."

"If you're trying to get back with MJ again I will get on a plane right now to vomit on you." Harley said with a monotone. "You've both broken up with each other now. The circle is complete."

Peter blushed, "It's not MJ!" He started stammering and waving his hands around immediately. Harley blinked as he attempted to dissect Peter's description of study breaks and movie marathons and… Oh!

"You finally figured out you're in love with Ned, congratulations." Harley droned out, though he did manage to smile when Peter startled so bad at the word love that he got himself stuck on the ceiling. "I promise to be more excited when my body stops trying to invert itself."

"That's why we're not suppose to drink!" Peter crossed his arms as he jumped back to the floor. He frowned at Harley.

Harley shrugged, "Everyone has to try being drunk at least once right?" Peter's brow furrowed further. Harley sighed, "What advice do you need, Pete?"

"Well…" Peter dropped his hands to his side. His eyes shifted to the ground. "…I don't know how to ask Ned out."

"Repeat after me, Pete," Harley started. Peter scrunched up his brows, but nodded. Harley grinned, "Hi Ned."

"Hi, Ned."

"I like you..."

"…I like you…" Peter fidgeted.

Harley continued, "As more than friends."

"As more than friends."

"Can I kiss you?"

"Can I kiss you?" Peter repeated the words and then coughed, "What?! No! I can't say that, it's too forward!"

Harley rolled his eyes and then immediately flinched. "Nate?" Harley groaned. His A.I. chirped to attention. "Send the recording of this video to Ned."

"As you wish." Harley smiled at the lack of 'sir.'

On the screen Peter was yelling. Harley just leaned back against his sofa, "I've been watching you two pine after each other for years, Pete. You'll thank me later." He reached forward and hit a button on his remote.

Peter's face blinked away.

"The video has been received."

Harley nodded and then started the long crawl for his bathtub. Nate decided to report on the side effects of excessive alcohol consumption the whole way.

Three hours later he got a text from Peter.

>>> You're an asshole when you drink. >>>…but thanks.

-.-.-

With great power came great responsibility… and apparently a whole slew of teens who didn't realize superheroing didn't come with health insurance.

"How does someone even break this many bones sparring with a dummy?" Harley groused to himself as he read over the incident report from the last Young Avengers training session.

Tony'd taken one look at it, burst out laughing, and handed the report to Harley. He bet Captain America didn't have to deal with this sort of thing.

"Na-te…" Harley whined and pushed his tablet away to lay his head on the table. His A.I. chirped to life with a sound exceptionally similar to a snicker.

"How may I be of service?" Nate was far too cheerful.

Harley glowered at the ceiling, "How much would it cost to pad every surface in one of the training rooms?"

"Calculating…" Nate drawled, "I don't believe that will be conducive to a realistic training experience."

"Let me dream," Harley sighed and reached for his tablet just as it began to chirp with new notifications. None of them were from his team or a medical professional, for once.

His phone started ringing with Peter's ringtone and Harley had no time to greet his little brother before the younger man started rambling, "Open the attachment! Open it!"

"Okay…" Harley chuckled and clicked in to one of his notifications, it was indeed a message with a photo attachment from his favorite spider-themed superhero. He grinned as the message loaded up on to the projector screen, "This isn't some weird porn like last time is it?"

"That was perfectly tasteful fanart of me!" Peter was definitely blushing, and bouncing on the balls of his feet based on his excitement. Based on the thudding, he might even be bouncing from wall to wall.

Harley tapped slowly on his screen, "I don't know, that was an iffy pose for you and Deadpool to be in together... You know he's too old for you right?"

"Harley!" Peter whined just as Harley finally hit the button for the photo to pop up on the screen.

"Holy shit…" Harley breathed out at the ring suddenly sitting before his eyes. It had a spider web like design around the band and some small red and blue stones at key joints in the webbing. "Is that…"

"It's good right?" Peter launched into a frantic ramble immediately, "I know it's kind of Spiderman themed but Ned's been my Guy in the Chair for years now so I thought he'd like the nod, ya know? Sort of, I don't acknowledging his contributions as my teammate and my…my…uh…"

Harley pursed his lips as Peter stumbled over calling Ned his boyfriend.

"…it's just not enough of the right word!" Peter stomped his foot. "He's more than that, and I want to get this right…"

"Want me to send him a recording of you rambling about how to phrase your proposal?" Harley asked and Peter squawked. Harley laughed, "You got this Peter. He'll love it."

Peter let out an audible breath, "Okay, yeah, you're right."

"You've been inseperable for years, even before you starting making out on rooftops," Harley teased, illicting another squawk from Peter, "Chances are you won't even have to say anything, just get down on one knee and show him the ring."

Harley looked up at his screen at the intricate metalwork. It was absolutely the most Peter style ring he'd ever seen.

"And hey, if he says no, I have a whole legion of semi-competent teenagers you can have has consolation."

Peter snorted, "No way. The Young Avengers are your problem. I'm strictly a solo guy until we get invaded by aliens."

"I'll throw in a set of ginsu knives!" Harley half-begged as Peter started laughing at him. His tablet chirped with a notification from the Avengers medical unit. "Please?!"

"I'll take the knives as a wedding present instead," Peter chuckled. Harley pouted for a second until he heard a faint gasp from Peter's side of the phone.

Ned's voice was quiet from distance and slightly squeaky, "What wedding?" Peter's line went dead just as Harley started cackling.

"I have the estimates for a padded training room," Nate cut in as Harley slouched back in his chair.

"Email it to me," Harley sighed and kicked his feet up on the chair, "I'm gonna celebrate Peter's engagement first, before I get bombarded with wedding planning."

Nate chirped unhappily as Harley ordered one of his drones to grab him a bottle of champagne. It was 5 o'clock somewhere after all.

-.-.-

+ 1

Being Peter's big brother was a lot easier when Peter was the one coming to him for help. Girls, boys, spidey-related mishaps - Harley could handle it all. This… this was out of his area of expertise.

"Hey Harley!" Peter answered on the first ring in a chipper voice. The sounds of machinery in the background told Harley he was at his lab, probably manufacturing some cool new gadget.

"Hey…" Harley's voice sounded rough and strained even to him. "You, uh, got a sec?"

Peter's side of the phone suddenly went quiet and his voice lowered to a whisper, "Is everything okay Harley?"

"Tony might have been right about my overextending myself," Harley cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair, "With the Young Avengers and taking over Stark Industries and coordinating with the Accords council and-"

"What do you need?" Peter asked, all ready to launch in to action. Harley heard him futzing around his lab and had to smile at the visual in his head. "What can I do?"

Harley took a breath, glanced around at the deserted beach he was sitting on. His Iron Lad armor, and Nate, were nowhere in sight. There was an empty bottle of tequila at his feet. Harley really hated when Tony was right.

"Well… I kinda need a ride, to start."

"You got it!" Peter starting typing, the familiar sounds of clacking keys practically music to Harley's ears. "Where are you?"

That… was a really good question.

"Haven't a clue," Harley chuckled dryly. The sound cracking in his throat, "Honestly, I'm not even sure this is the phone I had last night."

Peter coughed to hide his squeak, "Don't worry, I'll triangulate your signal, Harley. You'll be home in no time!"

Yup. Home. Where Tony would be waiting with worry and disappointment in equal measure.

"Damn. I really screwed up this time, huh Pete?" Harley knew he was in trouble when Peter didn't laugh. Welp. Even big brothers screw him sometimes, or so Rhodey had told him once.

"That's what brothers are for right?" Peter said with a half-laugh Harley knew was meant to be comforting.

It actually was too. Harley fell backwards into the sand, "Yeah, thanks Pete."

#ray writes #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel #mcu spiderman #iron family #harley keener #peter parker

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akitokihojo · 5 years

Text

In Between: Finale

You guys have absolutely no idea how much research and work went into this fic. I’ve had to clear my Google search history on multiple occasions because it just looked sketchy as fuck and my FBI agent was probably getting real sick of my shit.

I really wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who’s read this story, and even those who are just reading it now. I can hardly begin to describe the gratitude I feel. The reviews and keyboard smashes and simple comments saying, “......fuck.” were all so amazing and appreciated, and also very rewarding! Thank you all so much!

Also I want it noted, just for my own pride, that the fighting/martial arts mentioned in chapter 4 and coming up in this chapter are actually choreographed. Like, I got the fuck up out of my seat and physically choreographed the scenes. I’m trained in some martial arts so I did my best to apply that to my writing, and I’m really glad no one walked in on me throwing hands at the air.

Okay, I’m done rambling! I hope you enjoy the conclusion to In Between! Thank you so much for reading!

Previous chapters can be found in my fic masterlist, as well as on AO3 and ff.net.

----------

Inuyasha stirred as a shiver crawled over his skin, discomfort disturbing his sleep and waking him as he blinked his eyes open with a meager grunt. The apartment was still mostly dark, save for the light from the momentarily-blinding rays from the television, but he figured the sun was beginning its ascent into the sky from the way distant sounds were reaching his ears once more. He closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn't fall back asleep but unwilling to allow the lethargy to leave just yet. He could already feel the ache in his neck from sleeping on the couch, but it still wasn't enough motivation to get him to move any more than wiggling his foot to check and see that Kagome was still nearby. When his toes brushed nothing but air, he reached a little further and grazed the rough texture of a throw pillow.

Perking his head up, he blinked a few times to focus his vision on the vacant side of the sofa. Inuyasha took in the scents of the room, her aroma still around but diminished. It wasn't fresh. Reality began to sink in as he curled up to a sitting, an unnerving sensation tingling within his stomach as he swiveled his head to look about the room. The bathroom door was open. The TV's volume was set low to a mumble. Her scent wasn't stronger no matter which way he faced. Kagome was gone.

He jumped from the couch, growling a curse as he snatched his phone from the counter to check for any notifications. Nothing. There were no abnormal odors around; no one had come inside. What the fuck could have possibly happened while he slept? This was why he hated letting his guard down on the night of the new moon. Too much got past him. Too much could occur that he had very limited power to prevent. Inuyasha dialed Kagome's number, putting the call on speaker as he stormed out of the apartment, following her feint scent down the stairs and toward the lobby. It went to voicemail.

"Kagome, where the fuck are you!? Answer your phone!" He demanded at the beep. He kept pace down the stairwell, immediately hitting redial and calling her cell again. Voicemail. He hung up that time, his bare feet slapping against the tile of the small lobby. Her scent led out the door and he damn near halted in his tracks from the way his entire body went violently rigid. She left the building completely. Hours ago, and it wasn't by force. How fucking stupid do you have to be not to understand how horrible of an idea that was? What could have compelled her? Jesus, why did she leave?

Inuyasha was fuming, his nose suddenly catching a horrendous stench as he stomped forward and threw the door open, bringing him to a stop right there in the doorway. It was familiar and recent, and he realized he'd been so hyper focused on Kagome's scent that he almost completely missed this one. A painful ache churned inside of him. The scents of the two didn't mix, and he was becoming more and more disturbed as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Inuyasha flinched as his deafening ringtone went off in his hand, forgetting he'd turned it all the way up just after turning human the night before. Kagome's name and contact picture had the screen coming to life, her bright smile only making him all the more furious.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now!?" He answered, stepping back inside and dropping the door.

"Woah," A deep voice on the opposite end drawled, smooth and low. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

An unbearable chill washed over Inuyasha's body, each muscle quaking as it passed through, keeping him glued in place as his stomach gradually turned to lead, weighing heavily within his own abdomen.

"It's been a long time, Inuyasha." He said his name slow, enunciating every syllable.

"What - how did you..."

"Oh, it was easy. She's much like you, you see. She has a hero complex. Texted her saying I was Kikyo and in trouble, and she waltzed on out the door to save her. Didn't even have to come up with a sob story to twist her leg a bit."

It dawned on him that he'd never told her. Of course, she didn't know any better, Kagome thought Inuyasha was still on the lookout for Kikyo. This was his fault.

"Let her go." Inuyasha ordered, the words clenched in his throat. His teeth ground tight causing his demand to come out as more of a deep, guttural growl than a clear bark, and the chuckle from the psychopath in the receiver had his blood boiling over and pumping searingly through each vein of his body.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that."

"LET HER GO!" He bellowed, the shout echoing in the lobby he stood in. "You want me, you've got me! She has nothing to do with this!"

"You'll just have to come and get her." Naraku laughed. There was a muffled scream in the background, and Inuyasha's ears inadvertently pinned to his head. It wasn't close, it sounded far off; like Naraku was standing a good distance away, but nonetheless, it came from Kagome and it caused something to stir excruciatingly within him.

"Awe, did you hear that?" Naraku taunted, his voice knocking up an octave. "I think she's saying, "Come save me. Come save me, Inuyasha." Oof, she's a feisty one."

Inuyasha couldn't tell what was happening. As he was talking, he'd heard Kagome's grunts getting louder, like Naraku had moved closer to her. Then he suddenly lurched away, the oof more of a reaction sound than anything.

"Where the fuck are you!?"

"In all the time we've spent together, have I ever given you an answer that easily?"

Inuyasha struck a nearby wall, his fist easily punching through the drywall material. "I'm not playing these games again!"

"If you want your precious Kagome back, you will. Don't worry, I'm not completely heartless. I left you a clue to give you a head start. I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon, Inuyasha."

The line went dead, three dull beeps signifying so.

Immediately, Inuyasha stormed after the repugnant smell. He curved around the corner to the three adjacent walls of mailboxes labeled specifically pertaining to each unit, his ember eyes landing on the polaroid picture taped to his own. He ripped it off, his mouth parting as he took in the low-quality, scratchy sight of Kagome on her knees on the dingy, damp, brown floor. Her dark hair was wild, covering a good portion of her face as she looked into the camera, shadowed eyes hidden beneath deeply-furrowed brows. Her hands were tied in front of her, a rope cinched around her wrists in what looked like a double column. The ends were loose along the floor, secured around a nearby, metal support beam. Her mouth was covered with silver duct tape, which explained how muffled her cries sounded, and it took everything in Inuyasha's power not to look away from the picture. Instead, he pulled it closer to his face, he studied her surroundings, the rusted beams lined in a row, the weeds that had grown through the cracks in the ground, the graffiti littering the distant wall in the very corner of the photo. It looked like an abandoned warehouse, but it was hard to tell. The place was dark, making details even more difficult to make out, Kagome seemingly illuminated by the camera's flash.

He racked his brain for all the abandoned warehouses he knew of in the city, all the abandoned warehouses he may have had a run in at. If this was a clue, then he knew the place; there was hardly anything else that he could note in the picture that would give it away. He had to know where she was, so where the fuck was she? What warehouse could potentially play a significant role in tying he and Naraku together?

There was one east of town in an industrial area. There had been an accident there years ago and the place shut down. There was one near the lake off a winding road that was overgrown with shrubbery by now. He hadn't been there, personally, but he knew Sango and Hojo busted a sex operation at that location. There was a warehouse immediately south of him, but it was recently purchased by a construction company so it was inhabited and he couldn't imagine Naraku getting away with stocking a person along a support beam in plain sight. Inuyasha flipped on his cellphone flashlight, holding it to the picture to reach for any additional detail he could scrounge up that the dim lighting provided in the mailroom couldn't help reveal, desperate to find anything, his sharp eyes landing on the hint of yellow graffiti in the upper left corner on the distant wall.

It hit him like a flying brick. He knew where she was.

County Jail - One hour earlier -

"He's been screaming to get you guys down here for hours. He refused to calm down until we called you."

"Has he said what this is about?"

"Just that it was important and you'd want to hear this. He's in here." The guard opened the door, a disheveled Byakuya sitting in a seat at the table, cuffed hands shaking on top of the metal surface. His violet eyes shot up at her, perturbation written into the deep lines beneath his eyes. His lawyer stood mere inches from him, his chin raising indignantly as they entered the room and the guard shut the door behind them.

"Alright, you've got us here. What was it you wanted?" Kagura asked, setting her briefcase down on the table as she took a seat across from them. Sango sat in the neighboring chair, her eyes studying the angsty criminal.

"I'm ready to talk." He admitted as his attorney joined them, his expression stone cold and straight. "Naraku, he - he's about to make his move. Today. He's gonna do something today, he's been going on about it for months. It's going to be on the nine year anniversary of his arrest, that's what he said. That's today!"

"What is he going to do?" Sango firmly asked, inching inward as the suspense in the room intensified.

"I-I don't know." He shook his head, his heightened nerves evident in the chatter of his jaw. "I just know he's going to do something reckless! I mean, this is Naraku we're talking about! We don't need to add to his kill count, maybe we can stop him in time!"

"Where is he, Byakuya!?" She asked, more fervor to her tone, enunciating each word that left her lips.

"Now that's where I have to stop you. We've yet to strike a deal." Gatenmaru interjected, his hand held up to halt all conversation. "What do you got?" He directed the question to Kagura.

She held herself professionally, unfazed by the inquiry as she sat up tall and answered, "Seventeen years without parole."

"Let's be real, you and I both know that's not the best you can give. Try again." There was challenge glimmering in his slanted, black eyes.

"He's being charged with aggravated assault, aiding and harboring a fugitive, and accessory to murder. Seventeen years is what's on the table. Take it."

"Accessory to murder?" Gatenmaru guffawed. "He wasn't even aware the murder took place. That charge won't hold in court."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure it will considering it never would have happened had your client not helped his brother escape from the institution."

"No." Byakuya cut in, his eyes staring widely at the table beneath his forearms. "No! No! No! You know damn well that's not what I care about!" He shouted, Gatenmaru staring back at him with an expression that said he knew better for his client.

"Give us a moment, we'll work it all out."

"No!" He darted his sharp and direct gaze across to Sango, and she almost flinched from the desperation behind it. "I don't care about my sentence, I'll do my time! I don't care if I never see the light of day again, just - don't - kill - him."

"What?"

"Don't kill him! No matter what, do not kill him! Please! He can get better with medication, can't he? Give him another chance! That's all I want!"

Her mouth parted, the skin of her lips slowly peeling open, stunned from his powerful plea. It wasn't practical, though. She knew it, and the riddling stiffness of the prosecuting attorney seated next to her told her Kagura knew it as well. "I promise we will do everything in our power to have Naraku safely apprehended."

"That's not what I asked for! I want complete assurance that your team wont exercise commonly-known police brutality against my mentally ill brother! Promise me that!"

"Byakuya, I can't." She stated carefully. "I hear you, I understand exactly what you're worried about. It's never in our mission to kill a perp, please recognize that. Our number one goal is and always will be the safety of everyone involved. Sometimes, though, things don't work out that way-"

"Well, make sure it does!"

"If Naraku is in a manic state and poses a threat, our team may be given orders to take him down any way that we can. That's just the reality of it. I swear, I will do everything I can to avoid violence."

"That's not good enough!"

"We're wasting time, Byakuya!"

"You think I'll personally help send in a sniper to shoot my brother down!?"

"The sooner you tell me, the sooner we can get to Naraku! Like you said, maybe we can stop him in time! But that window may close if you don't tell us what you know!"

"You don't have to tell them!" Gatenmaru intervened.

"And you can't aid in the obstruction of justice! Back off, Gatenmaru, or I'll personally make sure you're disbarred!" Kagura snapped, darting a warning glare at the defense attorney.

"Byakuya, give us a chance to give Naraku a chance! You've gotta work with me, this is the only way the odds can potentially be in our favor!"

He stared at her, lips pressed together in a restrained snarl. It wasn't good enough for him. Unless he had a written and signed agreement that his brother wouldn't be harmed in his arrest, he refused to comply. Sango seemed sincere, but he didn't trust her. She was a cop. She was a dirty, careless, tyrant of a cop that liked to wave her power in the air like a picket sign. She couldn't fool him, but he could definitely fool her.

He controlled his expression, softening the disbelief in his scowl to appear as convincing as possible. He even sagged his shoulders in defeat, observing as Sango leaned forward for the information he was about to give. "He's at the warehouse by the lake. Off of McArther Road.”

—

Inuyasha shoved a small, loaded pistol into his boot, concealing it beneath his jeans as he hastily double checked that the Glock was still strapped to his hip. He grabbed his badge off the bedside table, clipping it to his side as he snagged the phone he'd dropped on his bed and dialed his partner.

Koga picked up on the second ring, opening his car door and stepping out as he pressed the cell to his ear.

"Bad timing." He answered.

"Meet me at the warehouse at the county line." Inuyasha gruffly said. He seemed breathless, like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. There was an edge of panic in his tone, aiding in the bite behind the order. Koga couldn't stifle the confusion that wrinkled his forehead. What was happening? Why was he coincidentally being pulled to one warehouse when he'd just shown up at another with an entire armed squad.

"What's going on?"

"He's got Kagome!"

"How!?"

"I don't have time to explain! I'm leaving now! I don't know how long it'll take me to get there since I don't have a fucking car, but-"

"How do you know where she is!?" Koga kept out of the swarm of specialists and cops, keeping his hot tone as hushed as possible as he stepped behind a swat truck for an inkling of privacy. His instincts had been telling him something was incredibly off since Sango called them all in before the butt crack of dawn, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly, dismissing it as the climactic ending to this overdrawn affair with Naraku. There was a heavy weight on his chest now, discomposing him even further.

"Because," Inuyasha growled. "I just got off the phone with Naraku not even five minutes ago! He left me a picture, and she's tied up in a warehouse and the only logical one is at the base of the woods!"

"No, Inuyasha, that doesn't make sense! Byakuya told us he's in the warehouse by the lake! We just pulled up, everyone's getting into position to swarm the mother fucker!"

"I don't have time to prove otherwise! Whether you come or not, I'm going to save Kagome!"

"Inuyasha, no! He wants you! You'll get yourself killed!"

"He has her, Koga." Inuyasha ground out a restrained sigh, answering steadily. "As long as she's safe, I don't care what happens to me."

The call ended and the wolf demon didn't hesitate in his course of action. Shoving the phone into his pocket, he ran over to where Sango and Totosai stood, going over their plan of execution at the hood of one of their black cars.

"Inuyasha called. Naraku has Kagome. He thinks they're at the warehouse on the opposite side of town; at the county line."

"What!? How!?" Sango reacted, her shocked expression trickling fear.

"I don't have those details, but there's a huge chance our little rat lied to us. Inuyasha's on his way there now. We've gotta back him up."

"We cant leave until we make sure the premises is clear." Totosai firmly stated. "Inuyasha may be wrong."

"Or Inuyasha may be taking on Naraku alone." Koga said.

"Go." The chief nodded after a very small moment. "I want you communicating the entire time. The moment we get out of this warehouse, we'll head your way."

Koga spun around, running back to his car to speed back out to the main street. The moment his tires connected with the concrete at the base of the long, winding road, he flipped on his lights and blaring sirens, racing to cross town as quickly as possible. It was still the early morning; the streets weren't too inhabited. Still, there were plenty of crossroads he needed to slow for, and each time he pressed on his brakes he felt more and more trepidation trickle over him.

Inuyasha's lungs were burning, his chest heaving, sweat dripping from his forehead and over the bridge of his nose as he looked over the weathered warehouse on the opposite side of the chainlink fence. Windows lined the higher portion of the walls, some broken and blocked off with cardboard, some filthy and impossible to even catch a glare with. He studied the few clear ones, checking for visible signs of life that may have been watching him from the second story at the end of the dirt and weed-occupied yard.

He could smell the two of them, their scents clashing obnoxiously within his olfactory system. There were traces of sweat. Plenty of it. He tried ignoring the damp smell of water that had been sitting for too long; he figured that exact odor would taint his nostrils when he noted the small puddles near Kagome in the picture. Most importantly, he did not smell a smidge of blood, fresh or old. It should have been a relief, but it didn't mean a thing with this criminal. He didn't know how long she'd been alone with Naraku, but he heard her in the background while they spoke on the phone. She was alive forty-five minutes ago. At the same time, that was forty-five minutes where anything could have happened to her.

Just as he was about to push through the unlatched gate, one hand prepared on the pistol in the holster on his hip, he heard the tread of tires nearing, the gravel along the ground grinding beneath Koga's heavy halt. Thankfully, the sirens were already silenced, and as he ripped the keys from the ignition, he'd flipped off the lights as well.

Inuyasha jogged to meet him half way, the both of them kneeling behind some shrubbery to stay as out of view as possible. Naraku knew he was coming, but he didn't need to know he brought backup. If they could keep the element of surprise, the odds would be more favorable for them.

"So, what the fuck happened?" Koga asked, keeping his voice low as he pulled the gun from his side and flipped the safety off. He was fully equipped in his bulletproof vest and windbreaker, the collar of his white shirt poking from beneath.

"I don't know - I don't fucking know. It was the new moon last night, I fell asleep, and apparently Naraku somehow tricked her into thinking Kikyo was in trouble, so she snuck out to help by herself instead of waking me up."

"Kikyo-"

"Yeah, I didn't tell her." He venomously interjected, wanting to cut that part of the discussion off at the knees. "It doesn't matter right now. I don't know how long they've been alone, and I don't know what he's done to her. I don't smell blood, and when he called me, I heard her in the background. That was almost an hour ago, though."

"She's alive, don't worry." Koga tried reassuring, giving him as unwavering of a look as possible. Inuyasha only spared him a small glance, ember eyes vehement with anxiety and rage, tearing his sights away to study the warehouse from the edge of the bushes.

Kagome gave another tug to the skillfully-tied knot around the support beam, her fingers struggling from the trembling she couldn't suppress. Her nails caught onto the rough rope, catching and losing grip, catching and losing grip, snagging and almost breaking. Before trying again, she whipped her head around, observing her immediate surroundings to make sure her captor wasn't coming back yet, air pressing out of her nose like she'd just finished running a lap. Still clear. She fiddled with the knot again, trying to hurry, a flutter in her chest making her feel like Onigumo could appear any second.

No.

His name was Naraku. She needed to remember that. He was a manipulative liar, and Onigumo didn't exist.

Her nails flicked off of the tight rope painfully and she clenched her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stifle the gasp she almost gave. It wasn't budging. The rope cinched around her wrists was too secure to slip through, and the more she'd tried, the more she felt the material digging into her skin. Her hands were a furious red from the many attempts of using her weight to pull away from the beam she was restrained to, the slack in the rope attached to the middle column of the wrist tie only allotting her about three feet of distance. It was no use. Despite all of her struggling and fighting to make tying her down as difficult as possible, he still prevailed by knocking her head against the pole she was held captive to, debilitating her long enough to get the rope attached. She was partially successful, though, and any feat is better than nothing right now. He'd initially tried restraining her hands behind her back, but all the flailing she did didn't allow him to.

Approaching footsteps alerted her to stop, carefully watching the direction they were coming from. The abandoned building wasn't completely empty, stacks of freight slabs and wooden crates filling multiple areas of the large room, making it impossible to see around the corner he'd disappeared behind ten minutes ago. There were small puddles of old, murky water here and there from openings in the ceiling, bits of trash littering the floor, and broken, molding wood that had crumbled from the second story. As the echoing grew louder, a sloshing sound coming from a tiny pool he must have stomped through, she tried to hold herself as casually as possible, stepping in towards the beam to allow slack in the rope. She didn't want it to appear as if she had been trying to escape; she didn't know if it would be the thing to set him off.

Naraku rounded the bend, swiping his dirty hands through his short, choppy, black hair. He was wearing a long sleeve, black thermal that raised and exposed an inch of his midriff as he lifted his arm, his ripped jeans a faded blue that bunched and disappeared beneath tightly-strapped boots. The man gave her a sealed-lipped grin the pursed just a little, cocking his head as he sauntered towards the small, upside-down crate he'd taken residence on before.

"Sorry, had to piss." He shrugged, squatting down.

Kagome could do nothing more than stare at him. Watch as he watched her. Observe as he took the long kitchen knife from the side of his boot and dragged his rough-looking thumb over the dull edge of the blade.

"Y'know," He spoke, his voice deep and smooth. "Inuyasha should be here soon, I presume. He'll be so relieved to see you're not hurt."

He stood, slowly making his way over to her, the knife glistening with the early rays of sunlight that peeked through the opened, side door. She backed up as he neared, her shoulder blade brushing the metal beam, and his smile grew wider.

"Oh, don't be afraid, don't be afraid. You know you're just a casualty in all of this, Kagome." Naraku slid his calloused hands over the side of her face, the sweat plastered on her skin from the unwavering stress feeling sticky and moist as he caressed the apple of her cheek with his thumb. She couldn't help the shaky whines that escaped her throat as he touched her, as he gripped both cheeks between his fingers and squeezed to get her to stop turning away from him. The sturdy tape on her mouth crinkled with his aggression, pulling at her sensitive flesh.

"I never wanted to hurt you." He whispered. "Now I do. It would be a waste not to at this point. And if I do it just as your half breed boyfriend shows up, oh, he'd cry like a little baby, wouldn't he?"

Kagome whimpered, her brows crinkling as she tried to shake her head no, to plead with him, but he kept her restrained. Naraku shushed her, a smirk pursing his lips further, the gleam in his red eyes showing thorough enjoyment from her spiking panic.

"What do you think he'd do at the sight of your blood, huh? Think he'd freeze? Go into a blind fury? Think he'd scream your name like bloody murder? Oh, the thought of it all just gets me so hot." He raised the knife to her face, grazing the smooth side of the dangerous blade over her cheekbone and temple, taunting her skin. "I want Inuyasha to die in pain - and not just physical. I don't want him just writhing in agony from a stab wound or two. I want him bleeding from the inside out. I want him begging for mercy because his mind and heart are about to explode from helplessly watching his whore get murdered." Naraku pulled back an inch or two, taking the kitchen knife and leisurely licking up the sharp edge, wincing minutely as blood seeped from the slice in his tongue. His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed the copper liquid, his lips quickly lining scarlet red.

Dropping the knife to the ground, Naraku pinned Kagome's jaw between both hands, holding her hostage as he kissed the duct tape over her mouth, swiveling his head passionately as she gasped. She could feel moisture dripping from his mouth and down her chin. There was a churning in her stomach, a lump forming in her throat, her body was shaking, aching to get this freak away from her. She was pinned to the beam with his body, her hands stuck between them, and without much thought to how much power she may even be able to back herself up with, Kagome bucked her hips forward, shoving her fisted, tied hands into his groin.

Naraku lurched away, grasping his pelvis with a slight bend, but not completely doubled over and groaning as she had hoped. She was only able to nudge, but thankfully the area was notoriously sensitive enough to effect him even this much. Utilizing the space between them, Kagome brought her knee up and shoved her foot into his torso, pushing him away with her kick. Naraku stumbled, a groan on his breath, and the moment her foot landed on the ground she reached for the knife, stomping the sole of her canvas shoe against the blade and dragging it along the dirty cement closer to the support beam so she could bend and grab it.

The man began laughing, the sound low like a chuckle and growing to a malevolent octave. "Uh, oh! Watch out! Kagome's got the knife! Oh no!" He gibed.

Kagome gripped the handle as tightly as she could, the rope on her wrists making the hold slightly awkward. She tried not to let that show though, breathing heavily as she held the blade out before her.

"That's fine. Keep it. I've got others." Naraku shrugged carelessly, sauntering toward her. "It's always fun watching women try to put up a fight, and I can tell you're as plucky as they come." Kagome tensed incredibly as he continued his path, backing up. Even though she was the one with the weapon, she knew how easy it would be for a demon to overpower her. He smiled, the cracks of his straight teeth stained with blood, the crimson liquid dribbling down his chin and to his neck. "You're gonna die here, Kagome. You can fight all you want, but you're still gonna die."

She whimpered, powerful shudders racking her body and she gripped the knife even tighter to make sure she wouldn't drop it, tears stinging her eyes as they quickly poured down her cheeks.

"In fact, the fun should be starting soon. Your puppy should be able to smell my blood from far off. I wonder if he smells it now. I wonder if he can differentiate whose blood is whose. Can he tell it's mine, or will he just smell the copper in the air and assume it's yours? Either way, I sense something's coming." Naraku sang, his face lighting up as he stopped just before the tip of Kagome's blade. She had to fight off the reaction to look around for whatever he spoke of, forcing herself to keep her burning eyes glued to the criminal.

"Come on, what are you waiting for? You could literally end it all right now." He dragged his feet forward two inches, pressing his sternum to the sharp point. Kagome winced for him, stepping back against the beam only to have him follow, intimidatingly standing with his arms spread out, his red-painted grin beaming sadistically. "You could leave here with Inuyasha the second he arrives. Inuyasha wouldn't have to endure any pain. All you've gotta do is stick me. Come on. Just push it in. You could end this, you have the power. Do it, Kagome. Come on! Come on! Do it! Stab me! You know you want to! If you don't, I'll kill Inuyasha and it'll be your fault because you had the fucking opportunity to stop me! How could you do that to him!? You won't even try to save his life! Stab me! Stab me, Kagome! Do it! Stab me!"

Kagome sobbed, choking slightly on the muffled sound, terrified of the manic man before her, his red eyes wide and bloodshot. Spittle was dribbling from the plush of his bottom lip. He was scowling like he was suddenly furious, but there was also a hint of humor flushing through, curving his mouth upward.

"See that's the thing." Naraku murmured menacingly. "You think the knife, itself, is going to protect you. No, baby girl. You need to have the volition to back it up."

He yanked at the rope that hung from her wrists, taking Kagome by surprise by pulling her hands down and to the side, the kitchen knife falling from her fingers and clattering against the floor.

Koga crouched low, each step mindful and as silent as possible as he rounded the corner away from Inuyasha who'd planned to enter through the front, the gravel grinding beneath his feet. He kept his gun aimed at the floor, rushing to the rusted door he could see toward the end of the long wall. As he approached, small, pained gasps met his ears, accompanied by a man's vehement shouting. The orders were twisted, growing louder and more devilish before completely dying off, a clank echoing throughout the warehouse. Koga kneeled just before the opening, leaning to side-glance through the opened door.

Kagome was held at an angle by the ties around her wrists, her eyes pinched nearly shut from the jarring look of fear crinkling her face, thick tape over her mouth, a dark red covering the silver that had dripped to the curve of her chin. A man slowly slid his fingers through her hair, curling and snagging the dark locks to pull her head back, curving his body to whisper in her ear. Koga couldn't hear it, but the drowned sob from Kagome told him everything he needed to know.

"Hey! Get your fucking hands off her! Let her go!" Inuyasha's voice bellowed through the warehouse, his gun pointed ahead of him. Naraku smiled, slowly turning his head to face him, his hand still wound in Kagome's raven hair. The whimper that left her throat at the sight of him was heartbreaking, her current state wringing his insides agonizingly. He desperately wanted to shush her, to tell her everything would be alright, but he could only spare her brief glances for the moment. Until Naraku was taken care of, he needed his undivided attention on him. He couldn't let his guard down.

"Well, it's about time you got here. I almost thought it would just be Kagome and I having all the fun."

"She's not a part of this." Inuyasha seethed.

"You know that's not true."

"Let her go. I'll stay. You've got me all to yourself."

"Her screams are much more rewarding than yours."

"No, Naraku! This isn't how it's gonna go down!"

"Oh, and you're gonna tell me how it is? I don't think you're the one with the power here. You may have a gun, but I've got the girl."

"Come on, Naraku, just give her to me. You set her free, I won't even fight back." Kagome made a gurgling sound of protest through the duct tape. "You can kill me! You can get your revenge! Just give her to me first!"

"You want her?" Naraku chuckled. Unfurling his fingers, he released the rope and her hair taking a large step to the side. "Go on, Kagome. Be free. Run to Inuyasha! Go on, girl!" He bated, taunting the both of them with her captivity.

Still, she struggled to wiggle her way free of her restraints, desperate to get away, to cross the large room and clutch onto Inuyasha for dear life. Naraku's laughter bounced off the walls boisterously, infuriating her, and if looks could kill she knew the scowl on her face would have burned him alive. A thunderous growl ripped the air, and she could practically hear Inuyasha's grip tighten dangerously over the trigger.

Naraku shrugged in an oh well manner, the blood on his jaw and neck a darker shade than before as it noticeably dried. Inuyasha could only hope Kagome had done that to him. As he held an unfaltering grip on his pistol, he realized he had a clear shot. He could take Naraku out where he stood, but his conscience riddled him. He didn't have the proper provocation to justify killing him, though he really, really fucking wanted to. He could wound him, but even that was a stretch. Lashing out, putting a bullet through him could cost his badge and a lot more trauma on Kagome's behalf. She didn't need to see that. Looking at her now, the stiffness of her muscles, the small quakes that inadvertently racked her body, the fading bruise on her cheek that was accentuated by her paled skin, the sweat that caused her bangs to wave and stick to her forehead, she'd been through enough. His one priority was to get her out as unscathed as possible. He'd handle whatever Naraku had to throw at him after he saw to her safety.

"We don't need to play these games, Naraku. You're upset about what happened all those years ago, so-"

"Nine years ago, to be exact! Happy anniversary, sweetie." Naraku winked.

Inuyasha paused, allowing his words to sink. He couldn't imagine what was so significant about the ninth year, but he could understand that Naraku had planned for everything to fall on this day. He gave a feeble nod of acknowledgment. "You're upset about what happened nine years ago."

"Upset would be a bit of an overstatement, don't you think?"

"An overstatement?" Inuyasha asked, muddled. "Well, how about you tell me what's going through your head. Let's start with that, okay?" He kept his tone as level as possible, his ember eyes glued to the seemingly amused man before him.

"Was that word too big for you, half breed? I'm not mad." Naraku claimed. "I don't care that I was found out, I don't care that I was arrested, I don't care that I was sentenced to life in an insane asylum, I - simply - don’t - care. You want to know why I've been targeting you and your girlfriend? It's because of the arrogance you portrayed during my interrogation. You had this air about you that spoke volumes of how you felt you could never be beat. You were so young. Fresh to the field, right? It was pretty evident that you were the rookie in your department, and I thought you were merely overcompensating so it wouldn't bleed into our one-on-one time. Then, a few hours in I realized that was just a flaw in your personality. You're cocky, Inuyasha. You carried yourself like you could never be destroyed. And I wanted to be the one to destroy you.

The one thing I could never get out of my mind, though, was the moment you lot finally got the warrant to search mom and pop's cabin. I saw it. In your eyes. There was a brief glimpse of fear, and god, I've been dying to see it again ever since! What were you so afraid of? Was it because deep down you knew Hakudoshi was dead?"

"Don't say his name!"

"Was it because you knew a little boy had been killed and you failed to stop it?"

"Naraku!"

"You didn't want to admit it to yourself, but the moment they gave you the green light to go that's when you knew you had to face the music! You were about to see little Hakudoshi rotting in the ground!"

"Shut the fuck up, you disgusting piece of shit!"

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Inuyasha. You failed before you even tried." Naraku shrugged again, apathetic to the trembling of the half demon's rage. "I've never left a victim's side before they were dead, and you caught me on the edge of the woods on my way out. Much like this place.”

Inuyasha felt a thick mass build in the center of his throat, seeing red, fighting his finger's muscles to squeeze the fucking trigger and end everything now. As the escaped criminal swiveled his head to face Kagome, Inuyasha damn near lost control, clenching the breath in his lungs as a dangerous rumble reverberated from his chest.

"I bet you're wondering how I could be so cruel, aren't you?"

"Don't fucking talk to her!"

Kagome flinched, worried, brown eyes flickering back and forth between Naraku and him.

"See, to me, it isn't about cruelty. I thought if I watched the life drain from a person's eyes, I'd eventually feel something. Over and over, I tried. And over and over, I failed to feel an ounce of pity. I will admit, though, there was a good amount of exhilaration." Naraku knelt down reaching for the knife by his feet and Inuyasha went hot, flexing his hands over the grip as his gun followed his every move.

"NARAKU, STOP!"

"Make me." He smiled, curling his fingers around the black handle.

A shot was fired, ringing loudly in the abandoned building and paining Inuyasha's ears, the sharp sound of a ricochet bullet almost drowning out the startled shriek from Kagome.

"Drop it!" Koga ordered, running in from the right-side door. "Right now, drop it!"

Naraku had covered himself in reaction to the gunshot, the knife in a white-knuckle grip over his head. He slowly unsheathed himself, his jaw tensed and eyes closed in agitation as he rose to a standing.

"I was wondering when you'd finally crawl out from your hiding spot." He drawled.

"Drop the fucking knife." Koga reiterated, blue eyes slanted in determination. Slowly, steadily, he was side-stepping his way to Kagome.

"Or what? The K9 unit will play good cop - bad cop with me?"

"Actually, we're more notorious for bad cop - bad cop." Koga cocked a brow, his gun firmly aimed at the bold man. "We don't really have the patience for mentally breaking scum when we’re perfectly capable of physically doing it."

Kagome looked away from the scene before her, brown eyes colliding with vivacious ember. They were so close, he was a small sprint away, yet she felt like they could have been separated by several locked rooms in between. She watched his eyes flick back toward Naraku, making sure his attention was still focused on the wolf demon, then switch back to her. He parted his lips, silently mouthing two words, but she didn't comprehend, furrowing her brows and shaking her head in question. Once more, he made sure he was clear, then tried again, mouthing "Back up," a little slower than before.

This time, it was her that made sure Naraku wasn't paying attention. She watched as his terrifying eyes challenged Inuyasha's partner, watched as he loosely wobbled the kitchen blade in between his fingers. Carefully, she took one step away. When his red irises didn't land on her, she took another. One more had her at her rope's length.

"Naraku, if you think I won't pull this trigger right now you're fucking wrong." Koga's deep voice boomed. Naraku swiveled his head back and forth in mockery, trying to irate the wolf, but he held firm. It wasn't something he wasn't used to from perps. "Drop the knife. Don't give me a reason. Your brother doesn’t want anything to happen to you. Byakuya didn’t want a deal on his sentence for talking, the only deal he wanted was assurance that you would live. He wants another chance for you to get healthy, but that also means you’ve gotta work with us.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Naraku continued to play with the blade. “None of that sounds like it’s any of my business.”

“He wants a better life for you.”

“Then he should have paid for a hotel instead of hiding me in a warehouse.”

“He’s fighting for you, Naraku.”

“I didn’t ask him to. I’m not interested in his pitiful plea bargain, and I’m definitely not interested in anyone’s mercy. Fuck you guys.” He laughed.

“That’s fine, that’s your prerogative, but here’s the thing: you’ve got two loaded guns aimed at your head. If you take a step in any direction with that weapon in your hand, we’re provoked to shoot. If you throw the knife, we’re provoked to shoot. If you even look like you’re about to do something stupid, we are provoked to shoot.”

There was consideration on Naraku’s face as he pondered, his red eyes bouncing over to Kagome, his grin wicked and stained. Another growl from Inuyasha ripped though the air, a clear warning to look away from her, but the demonic sound went ignored. There was a flinch in her expression as he stared, the hollow of her throat emphasized as she sucked in and held her breath.

“Looks like plans have changed, sweetie. That’s okay, though. I’ve already left my mark on you, haven’t I? You’re never gonna forget me.”

“Stop talking to her!” Inuyasha shouted viciously.

The kitchen knife fell from Naraku’s fingers, bouncing against the floor, and he took a single step toward her, both Koga and Inuyasha stiffening incredibly. Koga matched his step, only a few feet separating him from sheathing Kagome behind his back. Her glare didn’t shift away from the criminal, though. She held her venom toward the man unwaveringly, her chin raising indignantly at his statement.

“Just remember, Kagome,” He paused, licking his lips. “You could have saved him. Whatever happens to Inuyasha is entirely your fault.”

Her nose crinkled angrily, but she couldn’t hang onto it. There was no stopping her eyes from traveling over to the half demon in the background, his scowl deadly until he met her concerned gaze. Instantly, a remorseful look washed over him. Inuyasha shook his head, his silver ponytail hardly swaying with the subtle movement, and she could tell he just wanted to soothe her; his way of protecting her the best he could at a moment like this. This was her fault, though. She easily fell for Naraku’s ploy. She broke Inuyasha’s trust and basically trotted all over the dedicated security he’d provided. She snuck out in the middle of the night and got them all stuck in this dangerous scenario. If anything happened to Inuyasha, she was to blame.

Maybe nothing would happen, though. Maybe he was all talk. He was in a mental asylum, so he wasn’t all there in the head, right? From her angle, it seemed like he was cornered. Koga was doing a really good job at talking him down, he’d even dropped his knife. Maybe Naraku didn’t comprehend things as clearly. She couldn’t remember if Inuyasha told her what degree of instability he harbored, so it was hard to decipher what could have potentially been going through Naraku’s head as he spoke.

Her abductor launched and she hardly had time to react, his hand snagging and yanking the tail of her rope as he ran passed laughing. Kagome fell to the floor with a choking gasp, her rib cage slamming against the beam with his strength and direction, and before she could look up or gather herself, she felt a body hovering over hers. Koga had crouched low, his hands snaking around her waist to help her sit up, and as she opened her eyes, she saw a blurred Inuyasha sprint passed them. Koga shouted a boisterous demand for Inuyasha to stop, but by the heavy curse lingering on his breath, she knew it went neglected. Everything was happening so fast, and as she realized Inuyasha was chasing after Naraku alone, an obnoxious alarm started blaring in her head. She stammered to her feet, her dirty, white shirt slightly clinging to her side from the damp floor she’d collided with.

Koga shoved his gun into the holster on his hip and snatched the discarded kitchen knife from the floor as Kagome pulled back on her ties, and he worked to cut through the tail. As soon as the rope was cut free from the beam, she stumbled backward, catching herself and immediately charging after Inuyasha. Koga dropped the knife and hooked his arm around her lower abdomen, lifting her off the ground in her haste and carrying her over to the cover of the wall of nearby, stacked crates. She was grunting and shouting in protest, squirming in his hold, her words incomprehensible and muffled.

“What the - what the hell are you doing!?”

Kagome pushed him back, her fingernails flicking at the edge of the duct tape on her mouth, but they were too shaky to get an actual grip. Koga took over and grabbed the opposite end, yanking the thick, stained tape right off her face, a furiously red rectangle left in its wake.

“We have to go after Inuyasha! Naraku’s gonna try to kill him!”

“Hang on, stop moving!” Koga barked, fiddling with the knot of her wrist cinch. “I have to get you outside and I need to call for backup first!”

“Call for backup NOW!” Kagome demanded, deep brown eyes piercing him threateningly. Koga dropped her still-restrained wrists, using his body to shield hers as he heard Naraku shouting incoherently from the second story on the other side of the large building. Kagome started struggling with him again, trying to free herself from his cover so she could run after them, practically growling with her vehemency.

“Look, I’ll call for backup now but then I still have to get you outside! Stop fighting me! The sooner I get you safe, the sooner I can go help Inuyasha!”

That last statement struck her still, and the wolf demon didn’t waste time in ripping his walkie from clip on the back of his pants, squeezing the button on the side as he called his team to their location for immediate assistance. As soon as the call was made, he gripped the center of the cinch, pulling her to run out of the building with him. His car was all the way out on the street, and he didn’t feel comfortable running all the way off the premises to lock her in the back seat and racing all the way back. Anything could happen in that time, and the sooner he got back inside to help, the better. He made a sharp left to the very back of the building toward a large, broken shed sitting just before the fence separating the woodlands from the grounds. The shrubbery was overgrown and intruding on the territory, tucking the backside of the shed in growth and vines. Koga spun her in front of him from behind, forcefully bending her knees to sit in the dense protection. He kneeled in front of her doing a once over, something he hadn’t been able to do just yet.

“You okay?” He asked huskily, brows arched in concern. There was a bruising scarlet peeking from beneath her bangs just over her left eyebrow, and he gently pushed her hair out of the way to check the thick bump on her forehead to make sure it was nothing worse. Kagome nodded with a breathy “yeah,” and Koga asked if she was sure for reassurance purposes, making sure she wasn't bleeding anywhere. When she nodded again, he sighed out, gently grabbing her by the jaw to make sure he had her undivided attention. “Then for the love of god, Kagome, stay here!”

Koga ran off, his gun now gripped between both hands as his speedy steps along the gravel disappeared.

Kagome tucked herself further behind the shed, her heart pounding rapidly. Her thoughts kept shifting to the horrible and potential what if's of the situation as she desperately tried to listen to what was taking place inside the building, her ears filled with nothing but the rustle of the trees' branches just feet away. Opting to busy herself, Kagome wriggled her wrists in the confinements of their wraps, the flesh beneath raw and irritated from her consistent tugging, pulling, and twisting to break free for hours now. The knot looked tighter than ever, and Kagome huffed in aggravation, figuring she'd been the one to make matters worse with her struggling. Her wrists were stuck being bound for now, until someone could cut her free.

Sitting there in hiding was more torturous than being tied to the beam. As her breathing came together, she peeked from the corner, looking back for some semblance of awareness. There was a gelatinous sensation in the depths of her chest, dense, spreading, the clouds overhead providing an ominous darkness on the already-dingy warehouse while her brown eyes sought for any signs of the three men. The wait continued, increasing the boiling uneasiness Kagome stewed in, and she searched harder, poking her upper body out further. In her peripherals, the subtle gleam of silver caught her attention, a four-foot rod sticking out from the weeds along the edge of the shed. There was a moment of hesitation, her sights never leaving the metal in case it would suddenly vanish in thin air.

Crawling out on her knees from the sheathing Koga had placed her in, she picked up the rod, working on the adjustment of her awkward grip to hold it as solidly as possible, opting to curl her right fingers tight around the dirty metal and support that grasp with her left hand. With a deep, determined breath, Kagome rose to her feet and ran across the gravel space, heading for the door she and Koga had exited from.

Inuyasha had followed after the crazed man as swiftly as he could, but managed to lose sight of him in the makeshift maze of palettes, crates, and other large, abandoned, warehouse objects. Even on the second story it was hard to get around. This building wasn't left like this; he'd been here before during an undercover stunt. This was just evidence of the incredible amount of free time Naraku had had since August.

He held his gun at the ready, leading his way with it as he listened closely and curved around corners. The entire place was swarming in Naraku's putrid scent, making it impossible to pinpoint his location that way. The man was still, he had to be. Inuyasha couldn't pick up any clatter from shoes hitting the wood beneath their feet, whether walking or running. Nothing. No raspy breathing, no laughter, no noises whatsoever other than the distracting wind from outside and his own, careful footsteps along the path. As he nudged through a particularly narrow route, there was a close creak, but before he could prepare, he was smacked in the jaw with a damp slab of wood.

"So, that girlfriend of yours," Naraku began, standing taller than him as Inuyasha stumbled backward, clutching his chin. "Not the brightest crayon in the box."

"Don't fucking talk about her!" He growled.

"She leaves the safety of your nest for a girl you chose over her at one point - that was the closest I'd ever come to feeling sympathy for a person, because ouch. - gets herself kidnapped, and when she had the opportunity to do something to help the situation, she didn't. She froze. Even better, she cried."

Inuyasha said nothing, taking aim as Naraku sped at him. He swung the board and Inuyasha shot a split second later, the bullet missing as the gun was flung from his hand, slid along the wood, and slipped beneath the railing, falling to the first floor.

"Whoops." The criminal grinned.

The half demon swung his fist, his hook effectively dodged by Naraku's nimble feet. Naraku dropped the board and clutched the tee shirt at his chest, swinging him around, surprising Inuyasha with his strength as he was slammed against the wall.

"What's going on, big MMA fighter? I thought you could spar! Or are you just stalling so I'll give you every little detail of what I did to your precious Kagome?"

Inuyasha flung his forehead forward, colliding with Naraku's and forcing him to stumble backward. The man recovered quickly, shaking his head and running his hands through his hair to smooth out the short, messy locks.

"All you had to do was ask."

"Shut the fuck up!"

"We kissed. It was pretty magical." He shrugged, reaching behind and yanking a pocketknife clip from his belt. He flicked it open, twirling the small, sharp weapon skillfully in his fingers. "Oh, god, and that tape I put on her mouth was an absolute necessity. She wouldn't stop screaming for you! Inuyasha! Inuyasha! Save me, Inuyasha! Inuyashaaaaa!"

He knew that Naraku was just trying to get under his skin, but god fucking damn it, it was working. He clenched his fists tight, his claws pinching into his flesh, and ground his teeth together, trying not to give the nut case the reaction he was looking for.

"I'll admit, I'm a little upset I didn't get to go through with my original plan. I had this whole thing ready to go where you were going to watch me kill her. You wouldn't be so smug and arrogant then, would you, Inuyasha? That's okay, though. I did enough damage to her to last a lifetime, and her poor, little puppy won't be able to protect her from the scars and nightmares. That, I can assure you."

"What, you think you're gonna kill me?"

"It's everything I've been dreaming of." Naraku smiled, still twirling his pocketknife.

"Keep dreaming. It ain’t happening."

The manic man lunged at Inuyasha, swinging his knife back and forth in an attempt to slash him, and the half demon sped backward. His back collided with a wall of stacked palettes and he knew he had one chance to get this right. Naraku went to stab him, and Inuyasha tried to clasp his wrist to nudge it in the opposite direction, his palm landing higher than intended and clutching onto part of Naraku's fingers along with the blade. At this point, with the amount of adrenalin coursing through his system, he hardly felt the skin slice at the heel of his hand, only understanding he was bleeding through the sharp tinge of copper wafting through his nostrils.

Sliding down and incorporating his freehand, Inuyasha struck the inside of Naraku's wrist outward with furious pressure while simultaneously smacking the side of the blade inward, the pocketknife flying from the criminal's grip and clinking to the floor. Immediately following, Inuyasha threw the back of his fist into Naraku's face, clipping his nose. Naraku's head flew back with the force, his footing following, and Inuyasha seized the opportunity, angled himself, and struck him hard with a sidekick to the ribcage.

He staggered backward, clutching his abdomen with heavy breaths, dangerous red eyes blaring at the half demon. With a snarl, he lunged again, swinging his fists, and each blow was deflected by Inuyasha's swift reflexes, palms effectively shoving Naraku’s forearms aside while stepping for proper angling. As Naraku's relentless attacks were thwarted, Inuyasha punched him in the jaw, clutching onto Naraku's upper arm to keep him in place and hooking his forearm inward, smacking his elbow to his opponents cheekbone. He released Naraku's arm but kept a grip on his sleeve to allow motion, swinging his fist into Naraku's sternum to get him to double over, then slamming his elbow into his upper back. He fell to the floor, his laughter coming out wheezy and slow.

Inuyasha crouched, snagging the back of Naraku's shirt as the man began to pick himself up, lifting him to his feet and slamming him against the railing. He folded backward slightly, the top of the rail only reaching his mid back.

"What are you gonna do, Inuyasha?" Naraku asked breathlessly, blood trickling from his right nostril. The stained and crusted smile on his face was disgusting, taunting, and challenging. "You gonna kill me?"

"No." The half demon replied, a growl on his tongue. "As great as that sounds, I'd much rather watch you rot away in the asylum."

"Wrong answer." He laughed.

"Don't act cocky, Naraku. There's no fucking way you're getting away from me."

"Wrong again." Naraku rocked against the railing, bucking his hips harder each time until the rotting wood the rails were screwed into cracked and began to crumble. The guard fell back, taking huge chunks of the flooring with it, causing Inuyasha to instinctually stumble backwards, a hissed "shit" heavy on his breath. As he looked up from the wood beneath his feet, Naraku was gone. Rushing forward to the edge, Inuyasha expected to see his opponent's body laying on the ground level, broken and seeping away life, but all he saw was the crumbled wood and broken, rusted rail.

"Mother fucker!" Inuyasha shouted, flailing his arms at his side in exasperation. He gave an exaggerated huff, quickly wiping the leaking blood from his palm on his jeans and leaning down to retrieve the pistol in his boot before jumping from the second story to land on the top of a low wall of nearly-unstable crates, bringing him to wobble slightly to keep upright. From there, supporting his leap by bracing his hand on the edge of the box, Inuyasha's feet met with the cement flooring, pistol immediately at the ready.

There was an incoming shuffling of feet from a large pathway behind him, and he swung around, gun aimed at a fully prepared wolf demon.

"Fuck!" He growled. "Where's Kagome?" Inuyasha quickly asked, lowering his weapon.

"She's safe, don't worry about it. Where's Naraku?" Koga aimed his pistol to the floor, blue eyes studying the line of blood that had escaped the corner of Inuyasha's mouth.

"No fucking clue. He slipped away from me."

"I heard a gunshot-"

"I missed."

He gave a curt nod, looking around at the spacious areas between man-made walls of objects. Inuyasha trudged forward toward the far opening and Koga took up the rear, his head swerving left and right for full awareness. As they came through to an empty corner, they paused in the center, Inuyasha's aggravation notably spiking.

"Come on, Naraku!" He boomed, his voice bouncing off the walls. "No more games! You started this, now lets fucking end it! Right now!"

Silence.

A moment later, Inuyasha and Koga were moving again, Koga once more trailing behind. As they approached a very wide area that he would have guessed was dead center of the warehouse, a dangerous feeling puddled in the pit of Koga's stomach. They were being watched. He couldn't pinpoint which direction the sensation was flooding from, lingering in place as he glanced around the dingy area, the space sparsely illuminated thanks to the boards covering the windows above them and the dark clouds hanging overhead. He heard the scuffle of Inuyasha's boots proceeded further. The curse in his growl. And then he heard fast-paced running coming right at him.

Inuyasha spun around as a loud commotion ensued behind him, Koga grunting as Naraku worked to overpower him. The half demon's gun was poorly aimed, shifting back and forth for a good shot as Naraku pinned Koga face down, his knee in the wolf demon's back, crouching low and squeezing the grip of the gun right from Koga's struggling hand.

"As you wish, puppy dog." He chuckled, pressing the muzzle to Koga's temple. The snarl on his partner's face was ferocious, and as he bared his fangs, Naraku smacked him in the same spot with the butt of the Glock. "Let's end this. Go ahead and shoot. You've got one chance."

Inuyasha scowled, his hands giving a feeble tremble from the insurmountable pressure that thickened the air. His gun twitched left and right, up and down, following Naraku's movements but never spot on as he kept attached to Koga's body. Inuyasha wasn't close enough to have a clear position on him. They were at an angle at the other side of their large space, and when Inuyasha tried to take a subtle step forward to up his advantage, Naraku cocked a sneer and pulled on the tight knot of Koga's ponytail to lead him to stand on his knees, shielding himself behind the broad torso of the wolf demon, the gun only leaving the side of his head to reposition just behind the lobe of his ear.

"Let him go, Naraku!"

"The only way I'll do that is if I'm dead." He said. "Or he's dead. Whichever comes first."

"Take the shot, Inuyasha!" Koga ordered, blue eyes piercing him as sharp as any bullet.

"Yeah! Take the shot, Inuyasha!"

"You can shoot him, you can shoot me, but there's no way you're getting out of here alive!"

"Don't fucking talk! Just shoot him!"

"Why, because the backup your buddy called for five minutes ago is here?" He remarked sarcastically.

"Any minute now."

"Inuyasha!"

"I could kill Koga now, kill you a split second later, and then I can go grab Kagome who's conveniently been hidden behind the shed out back and slash her throat all before the SWAT team shows up. And you probably thought you were being so slick, huh Moon Moon?" Naraku clutched the front of Koga's jaw with the hand that once held his long, brown hair, bringing his partner to shake his head in resistance against his hold. "Man the power of sight is incredible! You know there are a few windows here, right?"

Inuyasha's brow twitched as he seethed anger, a demonic need to rip this fucker to shreds just for threatening Koga and Kagome shaking him to the core. His fingers curled tighter around the grip of his gun, focusing with all that he had to get a clear shot.

"Don't think about it, just shoot him! Shoot him!"

"Shoot me."

"Inuyasha!"

"Shoot me."

"I swear to fucking god, Naraku, let him go!"

"What's the matter, Inuyasha? Can't pull the trigger? Wont save your partner? You’re not even gonna try?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"How many times has he saved you? Come on, Inuyasha! Be the hero you've worked so hard to become! Where's your pride!?"

"Inuyasha, it's okay." Koga's expression had calmed considerably, his voice lowering to just above a whisper. He was trying to level with him, trying to tell him it was alright to miss. Though his face lacked any signs of nervousness, his wavering tone failed him.

"Shut up, you stupid wolf."

"Inuyasha." He tried again, steadier.

His finger flexed against the trigger, still not confident in his aim. His heart pounded painfully hard, a dense weight sinking in his abdomen. If he misses, Koga dies. If he misses, Naraku pulls his own trigger. A thick mass in his throat made it difficult to swallow, and Inuyasha could feel himself losing grip on the situation. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He could try to stall until their backup actually showed. If he could succeed in that, if he could manipulate Naraku just as well as he's manipulated them all, there was a chance he wouldn't have to risk Koga's life at all. As he parted his lips to speak, to ask a question, Naraku beat him to the punch, his deep voice causing Inuyasha's to hitch in the back of his mouth.

“Out of time. If you wont take your shot, I will." Naraku re-aimed his pistol and pulled the trigger, the loud bang echoing throughout the building.

Inuyasha staggered backward, collapsing to the ground.

Kagome instantly felt something snap inside of her, running out from her concealed spot with rage and terror etched into the lines on her face, whacking Naraku in the shoulders and neck with her metal rod. Both he and Koga fell forward, and Kagome swung again as hard as she could, hitting Naraku in the center of his back. He wheezed, and without thinking, she threw aside the rod, jumping for the gun in his hand. She heard her name being shouted multiple times, but it was muffled by the grunts and curses both she and her opponent omitted. With a jerk in the opposite direction, she got the gun from his grasp, her tied hands useless in supporting her body as she tried to scramble away belly down, but Naraku was now on top of her, his large, rough hands fighting for her to release the weapon. Unintentionally, Kagome squeezed, the gunshot and kickback from the pistol startling a yelp from her, but working in halting Naraku's attack for the smallest moment.

He clutched her hair and shoulder and spun her over, pinning her with bruising force and straddling her hips, his hands wrestling to grab the Glock from her, struggling against her never-ceasing wriggle to keep her hands above her head and away from him. Purposefully this time, she squeezed the trigger again, using the moment he flinched to aim the gun at his mouth.

"Get off of me!" Kagome slowly commanded, her tone lethal. Her brown eyes were slanted deadly, but her trembling limbs betrayed her. The room was silent, or maybe her ears were working against her as well, a thumping sound riddling the sense. It wasn't until he gave his infamously taunting and overdone chuckle that she knew it was all in her head.

He crawled backward, and she tensed her core considerably to follow him, having to incorporate her elbow along the floor as she sat up tall. As soon as her legs were beneath her, Kagome rose to a stand, shakily ordering him to stay on his knees as her aim stayed glued to his mouth.

Naraku looked at the barrel, then to her, the curve finally leaving his thin lips to lay flat.

“How valiant of you, Kagome.”

“Don’t talk!” She demanded breathlessly, shaking her head, wild strands of dark hair falling in front of her shoulders and over her cheeks.

"Or else what? You'll shoot? You couldn't even hold the knife straight before, what makes you think you can kill me now?"

"Shut up!"

"You don't have the guts. You're nothing but a damsel in distress."

"Am I?" Kagome asked, taking a small step in and raising the Glock to the bridge of his bloody nose, the muzzle just inches from his sweaty skin.

Naraku closed his mouth, all traces of amusement completely vanished.

Inuyasha could see it, the glazing of her eyes, the paleness settling into the cheeks he’d just witnessed were red, the hollow of her throat as she struggled to take in actual breaths. Tears brimmed at her bottom lids but all other expression was disappearing from view. Her sights were set on Naraku, hardly blinking. She was moving past the point of rational thought. She was zoning.

Glancing to the side, Inuyasha noticed Koga watched the scene play as well, his lips parted and curved into a frown of concern. Holding that weapon, feeling the crushing weight of fear, her mind racing through horrible scenarios and which one was more likely to take place, rob her heart, break her spirit, he'd seen it before. Her fight or flight had completely taken over. It was telling her she wasn't safe, telling her she had no other choice. A wall was forming around her, one that would become thicker and thicker, almost impenetrable, the more seconds ticked by.

And Inuyasha could only hope he could get through that defense.

“Kagome.” He started gently, leaning on his good arm to sit himself up completely.

Koga slowly rose to his feet, moving with absolute control, blue eyes set on the girl just feet away. Any fast movements could startle her, could cause her to do something she didn't want to do. He made sure to stay as silent as possible, allowing Inuyasha to be the voice of reason she needed.

“Kagome, it’s okay now.”

Their gazes never broke, and Inuyasha could tell Naraku's red irises were holding her captive with their silent and menacing threats.

“I need you to put the gun down, baby.” He aimed his own pistol at Naraku in a way to take over, keeping his voice as soothing as his gruff tone allowed.

She shook her head as her face contorted, tears streaming down her cheeks while a feeble whimper escaped her lips. She wanted Inuyasha to keep talking, she wanted the constant reminder that Naraku hadn’t succeeded in killing him, thinking if he stopped coaxing her she’d turn and find he was actually dead on the floor and it was nothing more than her mind playing evil tricks on her. At the same time, she was too afraid to comply.

“Come on, put it down. You don’t need it.”

A minor twitch. Still no response.

"Hey, I need you to listen, Kagome. Everything's fine now, trust me. Put the gun down."

“I can’t.” She cried, her shoulders heaving with her deep gasps for air.

He tried not to let out his sigh of relief, clenching it in his throat. It was obviously too soon to celebrate, but he was reaching her. Thank god, he was reaching her.

“Yes, you can. Kagome. Look at me, baby.”

“No, I can’t!” She cried harder, voice breaking. “He’s gonna do something!”

“I promise you, he won’t. I’ve got a clear shot - if he moves, he’s dead. Now look at me.”

Kagome hesitated, scared he was wrong.

“Look at me.”

Finally, she shifted her gaze, her head unsteadily following her eyes as she fought against her instincts. As soon as she saw him, she nearly doubled over from the crushing sobs that left her lungs. His charcoal tee clung to his chest and shoulder, the large area soaked and deep in shade, blood beginning to drip down his left arm. He was sitting upright, his gun aimed at Naraku, ember eyes flickering back and forth from the criminal to her. He was alive. He was hurt, but he was alive.

Inuyasha smiled, finally letting out that alleviating huff. "That's my girl."

"You're okay?" She whimpered, still holding her aim.

"I'm fine." He said reassuringly. "Go ahead and put the gun down now, okay?"

"But-"

"Do you trust me?"

Kagome nodded, a faint mhm on her breath.

"Good. Then you know for a fact that I won't let anything happen."

Kagome tried to gather herself, forcing her lungs to take deeper, more level inhales. Turning her head, she gazed back down at Naraku, her hands trembling along the grip. The man on his knees had deadpanned, his eyes locked on her from just above the barrel. She gave a small nod in acknowledgment to her half demon's statement, exhaling from her mouth and loosening her fingers. From her right, a large hand smoothed over the back of her own, slowly, gently reaching for the gun, a voice whispering as she flinched, "It's just me, it's just me." Kagome allowed Inuyasha's partner to take the pistol with no resistance, his arm snaking around her back to tuck her into his chest as he took his own aim on Naraku. His thumb grazed her shoulder where he clutched her firmly, doing his best to soothe her anxiety down. The vest he wore was thick and scratchy, but not uncomfortable, his inhales bringing the material to rub against her curled-in forearms and cheek and causing a physical sensation that helped bring Kagome back to the present.

She relaxed in his arms, shifting to look over her shoulder at Inuyasha. He held his pistol steady, ember eyes alight as his heavy breaths brought his body to sag in what seemed like relief.

Shuffling feet reached their ears, a woman calling Koga's name, and he bellowed, "We're here!" in response. "We have an officer down! Call a medic!"

More commotion broke through as it sounded like multiple people were on the way to them, Sango leading the pack as she curved through the opening in the makeshift wall with her Glock aimed at the floor. She took in the scene, her brown eyes wide from shock, scouring the area with a shake of her head as she immediately ran to Inuyasha's side. Hojo, who was right behind her, pulled a pair of handcuffs from his backside, kneeling down to secure Naraku's wrists behind his back, Koga never lowering his pistol until he heard the tight clicks of both cuffs locking into place.

It was finally over.

Sango pressed both palms to Inuyasha's wound, glaring at him as he huffed and tried to push her off so he could stand.

"Stop! You know better!" She barked, applying additional pressure to the wound until he winced and sat back; the only way she knew to get him to comply.

Inuyasha rolled his head to the side, glancing over at the girl in Koga's arms. She watched him, worry creasing her brow and creating the pout on her lips. The wolf demon went to guide her away, out of the warehouse she'd been held captive in for too long, but she resisted, recoiling to leave Koga's hold to join Inuyasha on the cold floor. His partner didn't lose his grip, and Inuyasha's sensitive ears caught his low tone trying to persuade her away, using the word "temporary" multiple times.

Though she didn't fight Koga, knowing she needed to listen to him right now and let everyone do their jobs, her deep, brown eyes never left her half demon. As each step took her further away from him, she felt scared, twisting her body to keep sight of him. Inuyasha cocked a small smile at her, and she knew he was covering his discomfort.

Then he spoke, and though she'd just heard it not even a minute ago, a warmth rushed through her veins as his husky voice said, "It's okay, baby. Go."

Outside, the cinch was cut from her wrists, a hiss sliding over her tongue as her face contorted, blood quickly making its way through once again. The skin was red and irritated, more so at the base of the heels of her palms where all the pressure was focused each time she tried to squirm her way out, indents decorating the entire area. There were broken blood vessels dotting the surface, and even a spot where her skin had inadvertently broken. The medics cleaned it up and bandaged the small cut while she sat on the tail of the ambulance.

"I don't need to go to the fucking hospital." Inuyasha groaned, the EMT pressing gauze to the wound on his shoulder. "Just tape it up so I can leave."

"Actually, the bullet didn't pass through."

"What?"

"It wasn't a clean shot." The first responder stated, examining it beneath the absorbing material to see that the bleeding was slowing. "It's still in there. We need to get it out, which means you're going to the hospital."

"Just stick your finger in there and pull it out." The half demon arched a brow.

The medic paused, concerned, looking up in question at his captain.

"Yes, he is always like this. I'm sorry." Totosai frowned. "You're going, Inuyasha. That's final."

He huffed, the sound rough and exaggerated as he caved, too tired to battle the order, and leaned back against the wall. His shirt had been cut off of him to make his bullet wound accessible without straining his shoulder by lifting it over his head, the remnants of the tee on the floor beside him. They'd cleaned the surrounding skin of the mess of blood, thankfully, imagining the gory sight holding the potential to traumatize Kagome even further.

"Fine. I'm not going out on a gurney, though." He tried not to flinch as the EMT taped fresh gauze to the hole in his deltoid, extending over his clavicle and part of his pectoral. "And, I want to see Kagome first." His voice had unintentionally dropped an octave, losing its harsh edge.

It was more of a necessity than a desire. He needed a moment with her, and everyone's nod told him they understood that just as well as anyone. Sango held her hand out for him to take, helping him to his feet with her stained palms. They were dried, but just in case, he wiped them on his jeans and headed out.

He hadn't expected the way his feet carried him faster and faster toward the door, almost at a run, ignoring the pinch in his shoulder that would most likely be completely healed in two days. The pain was nothing compared to the boiling uneasiness in his core due to the separation from her. His adrenaline was still high, ember eyes drifting over the surrounding area and hubbub of officers and detectives, two emergency busses parked off toward the fence he and Koga had entered through. He headed in their direction, jogging now, his heart leaping in his chest as he spotted her sitting next to Koga on the tail. There was a blanket wrapped around her and her eyes were at half mass, staring at the rocks on the ground, her legs bobbing uncontrollably from the angle she'd propped them in.

Glancing up, those hopeful eyes landed on him, widening as she immediately jolted from her seat, throwing the blanket from her shoulders and running over to him. It was easy not to pay any mind to the throb in his arm as he skidded to a stop, grasping the breathless woman and silencing her sobbing apologies by crushing his lips to hers.

"You're so stupid!" He kissed her again. "God, you're so stupid! Why would you do that? Why would you leave?"

"I'm sorry!" She cried, fingers twitching against his bare sides.

"Are you okay?" He pressed their foreheads solidly together, a hand threaded through her thick waves at the back of her head. The heat of her skin washed over him, and he found he, himself, was trembling almost as badly as she. "I was so fucking scared, Kagome, tell me he didn't do anything to you!"

"I'm sorry! I love you! I'm okay! Nothing happened!" She said quickly, panting.

"Fuck." Inuyasha kissed her again and again, parting just enough to look to her for further reassurance.

"I swear. He hardly touched me."

The half demon parted her bangs, inspecting the welt on the side of her head, his fingers traveling over the green and yellow mark on her cheek, and landing at the crook of her jaw, planting one last, sweet kiss on her lips before clutching her into his chest, breathing her in before he inevitably had to let go.

He could already see his own, personal medic waiting for him at the side of his ambulance. He was being patient, but Inuyasha knew the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could get Kagome home to his place and tend to her. He hugged her a little tighter for a moment, kissing the top of her head before curving to whisper in her ear.

"I have to go to the hospital, okay? Should be quick, they've just gotta take care of this injury." He looked up to scout out his partner, unsurprised to see the wolf demon standing not too far off, watching them, waiting for his cue with his arms crossed. Inuyasha gestured for him to come over, loosening his grip on Kagome and wiping the one stray tear just below her eye that hadn't dried. "Go with Koga."

Ember irises met the gleam of his partner's baby blues - he'd always teased that his eyes were a little too girlish for his build - and they clasped hands, bringing the other in for a firm shoulder bump, a silent thank you for all he'd done for Kagome thus far.

"We'll be right behind you." The wolf mentioned, taking up Kagome's side. Inuyasha nodded, glancing back at her, running his thumb over the brown stain on her chin.

"See you soon."

"Yeah. Soon."

Just as Inuyasha went to step away, a police vehicle approached to leave the gates. As it slowly rolled past, the gravel cracking beneath its tires, Naraku peered through the backseat, arms still restrained behind him. His lips pulled tight into a menacing grin, bringing an icy chill to crawl down Kagome's spine. She and Inuyasha followed the black and white car with their eyes, watching it meet the pavement, driving off toward town and disappearing from sight.

Three months later

"In the matter of The People V. Byakuya Saisei, how do you find?"

"We find the defendant, Byakuya Saisei, guilty your honor."

There was a collective sigh throughout the courtroom. Kagome's mother, who had been squeezing the life out of her hand, deflating when she heard one of the assaulters would be spending up to twenty-five years in prison. Kagome glanced to her left towards the defendant's table where he sat, Byakuya receiving sympathetic pats on his back from his attorney. Behind him were his parents, his mother in shambles while his father sagged in utter disappointment. Their son didn't bother to look back at them in apology. According to his confessions, he resented them and even almost blamed them for his decision to aid his brother in everything.

The room ceased its stirring as the judge slammed her gavel down three times, the old woman's voice demanding everyone's attention as she gave her closing statements. Byakuya was sentenced without the chance of parole, and Naraku, whom Kagome had only had to encounter once since trials began and was not currently present, was reassigned and transferred to a high-risk penitentiary to live out the rest of his days under deliberate and watchful security and isolation when necessary. With a thankful dismissal of the jury, the judge slammed her gavel once more, stating court was adjourned.

"Are we done yet?" Inuyasha groaned, trudging along at Kagome's side, her feet working a little faster than his to keep pace with his longer strides on the sidewalk. She lifted the small, frilly-wrapped package in her hands, white spiral ribbons splaying over her fingers.

"Does it look like we're done?" She cocked her head to the side, arching a brow. "Come on, this is the last one!"

"I still don't think Koga should have received anything." He huffed.

"He helped just as much as anyone."

"Eh." Inuyasha grimaced, shrugging wanly. "He was moral support."

Kagome rolled her eyes, giggling lightly as she reached for the handle of one of the glass doors, only pulling it open an inch or two before Inuyasha reached over her head and took over, holding it for her as she passed through. She paid him a silent regard, smiling gratefully as she entered into the flower shop.

Her heart began to pound. She knew this whole thing would be good for her in the end. Her therapist had mentioned that she should get closure for everything that had happened, and one of the ways they discussed was giving thanks to the people who'd helped her get through it all. Still, the last time she was here, she'd been running for her life, and the mind had an awful way of making her trip down memory lane feel more dire than it currently was. Inuyasha's shoulder brushed hers, and she glanced up at him. His silver bangs hung off his forehead with the tilt he held it at, a shimmer of sun shining through the far off window catching a small section of the fringe, illuminating the soft tones of his natural color.

"Good morning - oh!" The raspy voice of an elderly woman spoke, catching both of their attention. Kagome noticed the thin woman behind the counter, her grey hair tied behind her neck in a very loose bun, eyes wide and lined with age. Kagome walked further in to greet the woman, stopping before the mid-sized table separating them. "You're that girl from the news! Jinenji's mentioned you, too. Says he knows you."

Their case had been all over the news stations, most of which following the tedious and meticulous trial from the arrest up until the verdict was made last week. Though their faces weren't in the papers as much as Naraku's and Byakuya's, they'd incidentally been given the spotlight on television - her a little more than Inuyasha considering the amount of her involvement - far more than they'd ever liked. Not many people reacted to seeing her anymore, especially since the marks had long faded and Inuyasha proved to be a lethal bodyguard toward lingering cameramen, but mostly because the popularity these sorts of trials build only last so long. There was the climax of the testimonials that brought a lot of attention, but even before last week, all of their focus was centered on the sentencing of the criminals. Nevertheless, being recognized still caused Kagome to stiffen uncomfortably, though she'd admit she much preferred "that girl" to everyone knowing her name again.

In reply, she swallowed her embarrassment, smiling politely with a slight nod. "Uh, yeah."

"And you," The old lady redirected her gaze to Inuyasha, angling her chin according to their height difference. "You're that half demon."

She was rather blunt as she spoke, showing what could be mistaken for bitterness. Kagome couldn't bite back the way her face twisted into a slight scowl, upset for the way he'd been greeted.

"Relax, I don't mean that as a slander. You've done us all a favor and shown other half breeds that you don't have to be full-blooded anything to be something." She said, the lines on her cheeks pulling upward with her smile. "My boy, the owner of this shop here, is a half demon himself."

Kagome softened at the information, happy for the praise Inuyasha deserved, glancing up as he nodded stiffly in acknowledgment, running his hands through the short, freshly-cut hair at the back of his head, his cheeks brushed lightly with pink. He brought his hand to rest at the small of Kagome's back, the straight, silver strands smoothly flowing back to their rightful place along his crown.

"Is Jinenji here?" She asked. His mother pointed to the doorway in the far left corner, sitting back in her chair with a pleasant expression.

Kagome lead the way, the scents of the radiantly-red roses they passed almost demanding her to stop and smell them. Jinenji had his back turned toward them, his large body curved and hunched as he tended to his work. She gave a light rasp to the frame she stood in, watching as the gentle giant turned to peek over his shoulder. He jumped, those large blue eyes alight with shock as he spun around, almost bumping his head on the ceiling.

"Hi." Kagome smiled happily.

"It's you." The big half demon grinned. "You're - you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." She admitted, almost shying away. He'd seen her fresh from Byakuya's attack. The image of her locked in his memory must have been her battered and tearful face. She could understand that not even news reports could take the place of real life witnessing. Kagome held out the small gift in her hand. "This is for you."

"For me? What for?" Jinenji asked bashfully, taking the package in his fingers and making it look even tinier than it actually was.

"You helped me when you didn't have to. It's not much, but it's my way of saying thank you."

"I - I was happy to do whatever I could."

"And I appreciate it. More than you'll ever know. They're brownies, I made them myself." Kagome stood taller, her hands clasped in front of her. Jinenji thanked her, his voice soft, accepting her gift as he pulled at one of the white ribbons to untie the knot.

Kagome turned, reaching for Inuyasha to bring him beside her as opposed to standing behind. He took her hand, his fingers entwining through her own, a tender manner about himself as he looked at the man before them.

"This is my boyfriend, Inuyasha. Inuyasha, this is Jinenji. He's the one that saved me that night."

Inuyasha held his free hand out to shake Jinenji's, the sizes of their palms incomparable, but the message spoke just as powerfully. "Thank you. For all that you did."

"I didn't do much."

"But it meant everything."

73 notes · View notes

peter-parkouuuur · 5 years

Text

Chapter 11: She Moves In Her Own Way (Spider-Boy - Peter Parker x Stark!Reader)

I AM THE BIGGEST PROCRASTINATOR I KNOW! Here is Chapter 11 of Spider-Boy.

This is mainly a filler-ish chapter. The major events will happen in the next few chapters!

ENJOY! (If you still want to read it of course, it’s been like a year since my last update. I really am sorry!)

Don’t forget to like (if you like it huhu)

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

The whole family is eating brunch in the dining hall when Tony decides to ask Y/n about your relationship with Peter.

“So how was the afterparty?” Tony asks Y/n, eating a piece of his toast.

“It was fun…. Just a typical prep school party, but with no drugs involved, Happy and the rest of your security made sure of that.” Y/n reassures.

“Yeah? How was Peter last night? I figured since he was there with you, he probably had a miserable night with those trust fund kids.” Tony says.

“Who is this Peter and how come I’m the last person in this family to find out about him?” Denise questions.

“That’s not true, Eloise doesn’t know who he is.” Nico retorts, pointing to the little sister who is busy playing with her PB&J croissant.

“He’s-“ Tony cuts Y/n off.

“He’s my protege in Stark Industries, has a bit of a crush on Y/n.…. Speaking of which, how’s he treating you?” Tony inquires, taking a bite of the waffle on his plate.

“He’s a nice guy, dad. Surely, you would know that.” Y/n replies.

“Y/n, you’re only 16. You shouldn’t even be dating at all… You have your SATs next year before you know you it, you’re applying to ivy league schools or perhaps you’d want to move to Paris with me and study at Sorbonne.” Denise implies.

“Mom, it’s just puppy love…” Y/n reassures her.

“If it’s just puppy love, why don’t I just get you a dog instead? I don’t want to deal with you and Parker as a thing, and him being Spiderman is no good for you. Ask Pepper how she handles with the whole Avengers thing, it’s a complicated story, honey.” Tony states.

“The guy you’re seeing is Spiderman? Niiiice!” Nico laughs.

“Ugh…. Can we not talk about my love life, like… ever?” Y/n grumbles.

“So dad, how’s Pepper?” Nico asks.

“She’s doing great. I’m planning on proposing to her actually.” Tony wipes his mouth with the dinner napkin.

“You’re what?!” Everyone except the 5-year-old, Eloise, exclaimed in unison.

“Tony, why did you choose to bombard us with this story now?” Denise chastises him.

“I figured it’s the right time, Denise. I’ve hardly seen her these past few months. Besides, she’s amazing with Y/n and Nico, she’s their New York mom because their real mom is busy in Paris with husband number 2.” Tony argues.

“It is so not the right time. We’re having a post-birthday brunch, not a family meeting.” Denise hisses.

“I’m sorry, do you expect me to walk on eggshells every time we talk about something important? These kids know Pepper, she was their guardian at school when we were both busy with our jobs. I don’t need a lecture from Mary Sue.” Tony admonishes.

“ENOUGH. Dad already said it, we don’t need all this fuss over him and Pepper getting married. We’re happy that both of you are happy with your partners, you guys don’t have to remind us of your pre-divorce fights. It’s bad enough that Eloise doesn’t get to see me and Y/n this often, but arguing in front of her is something that you guys should definitely avoid.” Nico lectures their parents.

“I’m going for a walk.” Tony stands up and heads out of the dining hall.

“Dad, while you’re out there, can you buy me a pretzel?” Y/n exclaims.

“No Promises!” Tony replies.

“Y/n! Sweetie! You have a visitor!” Tony announces from the great room.

“Oooh! Is it Peter Parker?” Nico teases you.

“Shut up, Nico.” Y/n grumbles, throwing the dinner napkin on the chair before walking out of the dining hall.

Y/n sees Liz Allen standing awkwardly in the middle of the great room.

“Liz… What are you doing here?” Y/n asks.

“I uh… I just want to apologize…” Liz starts off.

“Apologise? Apologise for what?” Y/n’s eyebrows furry in confusion.

“For everything I did to you when I was still in Spence… We were the best of friends and I guess.. I was just a bit jealous.” Liz states.

“You do know that you’re like a few years too late, right?” Y/n crosses her arms.

“I know… I just wanted to get this off my chest before I leave for Oregon.” She looks down.

“Oregon? What are you going to do in Oregon?” Y/n questions.

“We’re moving there…. permanently. My dad doesn’t want us to be in New York during the trial.” Liz answers.

“That sucks… I’m really sorry, Liz.” Y/n walks toward her former friend and caresses her by the arm.

“There is one thing you should know….” Liz looks up to Y/n.

Y/n felt her ears ringing as if she didn’t know how to react. Something about Liz kissing Peter during their homecoming dance… she couldn’t feel herself moving.

It wasn’t something Peter had confessed to her when he barged in after defeating the Vulture. He knows that she gets sensitive when it comes to Liz, he could’ve told her about it.

“Oh… that’s fine. Peter and I aren’t even anything…” Y/n reassures her.

“Ohh… I sort of assumed that you guys had something going on… He felt uneasy with me the whole time we were together.” She replied.

“Maybe he was just nervous? Peter’s kind of awkward, not sure if you’ve noticed.” Y/n lies knowing full well that Peter told her about Liz’s dad.

“He is, that’s what intrigued me the most about him.” Liz just laughs.

“I just want to have a clean slate before I leave, you know? Thanks for everything, Y/n.” Liz puts her hand out for you to take, Y/n gladly holds Liz’s hand.

“Just don’t do anything stupid, and you’ll be fine. I’m sure Oregon has tons of Peter Parkers for you to kiss.” Y/n fakes a smile, letting go of Liz’s hand before standing up.

Liz feels the uneasiness radiating off Y/n by a mile. She knows how moody Y/n gets when someone pisses her off.

“I just…. I still feel bad for not telling you that I was transferring schools…. I mean it’s great that you have the three girls by your side when I was out of the picture.” Liz states.

“Why? Because they’re just yours to take if you stayed at Spence?” Y/n scoffs.

“That’s not what I meant… I’m sorry for being such a horrible friend.” Liz murmurs, Y/n not even bothering to reply.

“Well, I better go…. Take care, Y/n.” Liz stands up and waves at Y/n weakly.

Y/n does the same, waiting for Liz to head straight to the elevator. Y/n feels her brother standing beside her.

“Look at you inheriting Tony Stark’s sharp tongue.” Nico nudges Y/n by the shoulder.

“Shut up. Being a bitch is mom’s trait.” Y/n retorts.

Friday Night:

It’s been two days since Tony Stark announced his engagement to Pepper Potts, his former P.A., and the Socialite wanted to celebrate his engagement in a rather austere celebration, at the Rockefeller rooftop gardens. The celebration mainly consisted of Team Iron Man, a few of Tony Stark’s friends, colleagues and business partners, and a few of Y/n’s classmates from Spence.

“Pepper! Congratulations!! I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to text you the moment I found out.” Y/n hugs Pepper the moment she steps into the venue.

“Oh no worries, honey! You owe me a girls day out because I for one have heard about your father complaining about a certain Spiderman crushing on his daughter?” Pepper smirks at Y/n.

“Sachs and Bendel’s day it is! My dad is going to have a dent in his account” Y/n giggles.

“Look at my two favorite girls talking about a girls day that involves my money.” Tony wraps an arm around his daughter’s shoulder.

“Yeah. The two of us were planning to just shop, spend your money, and talk shit behind your back.” Y/n retorts.

“Language!” Tony admonishes you.

Pepper and Y/n look at one another knowingly. Captain America used to scold Tony or the rest of the Avengers whenever they swore and it looks like it might have rubbed off on Iron Man himself.

“Are you hearing yourself right now, dad?” Y/n questions.

“You’re right, I sounded stupid… my god.” Tony’s eyes wander off, realizing what he’s done.

“I’m gonna go look for my friends. See you later, old-timers.” Y/n shakes off Tony’s arm and heads to where her friends are standing, drinking Cristal champagne.

“That Peter Parker is going to be the death of me isn’t he?” Tony asks Pepper as the two trail their eyes on Y/n.

“Possibly. Better him than anyone else right? At least she’ll have a superhero to her beck and call who’s not her dad.” Pepper answers.

“Who am I kidding? She’s got me wrapped around her finger.” Tony sighs and looks at his daughter fondly.

The elevator door opens for Peter to see all the prominent people of New York gathered in one place, he tries to spot anyone familiar and sees Y/n talking to her friends.

“Peter! You’re here!” Tina greets him the moment he’s in their plain sight.

“Hi.” Peter just waves awkwardly at Y/n’s friends.

Y/n, on the other hand, is basking at Peter’s awkward nature, she finds it cute that he still gets flustered every time he’s with her friends from school.

“You could’ve told me you were coming. I would’ve picked you up.” Y/n hugs him, still feeling uneasy.

“You’d travel from 5th Avenue to Queens just to fetch me?” Peter inquires, knowing full well that Happy and your dad wouldn’t approve of it.

“Of course.” Y/n smiles at Peter.

“Excuse me, girls. I just need a moment with Peter.” Y/n smiles at her three friends who just nod their heads and walk away.

Y/n grabs two glasses of champagne and offers one to Peter.

“So, Liz stopped by before heading to Oregon.” Y/n starts off.

“Yeah? What did she say?” Peter asks, drinking from his glass.

“Oh you know, she just apologized for not telling me about transferring schools and all….” Y/n shrugs her shoulders.

Peter just nods his head, not really knowing where the conversation is going.

“She told me about your homecoming.” Y/n adds.

Peter tries to open his mouth to talk but nothing comes out, he doesn’t have an explanation for what happened.

“You could’ve told me about it. I wouldn’t have been entirely pissed. I just wish I didn’t have to find out about it from her.” Y/n tells him.

“I know. I’m sorry I never told you, but I swear nothing happened between us after that. Please believe me.” Peter pleads.

“Peter, you’re like the most awkward teenager I know, that’s one of the many things I like about you.” Y/n giggles.

“Just, no more kissing other girls, okay?” Y/n puts a hand on Peter’s bicep.

“Y-yeah… Of course.” Peter smiles at you.

Just when the two of you are about to kiss, Tony clinks his glass and everyone stops what they’re doing to look at him.

“Hello! I just want to thank everyone for being here to celebrate a special night for me and Ms. Potts here. Meeting and falling head over heels in love with her was the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He states.

“Wow, tell me how you really feel, dad.” Y/n mumbles.

“Well, there are exceptions. Three of those, being the birthday of my children, one of them is here right now, Y/n Stark. Where are you, honey?” Tony looks around and spots his daughter with Peter.

“There she is with her uh, date.” Tony stares at Peter before rambling on to the rest of the speech.

“Wow. I’m a date.” Peter chuckles.

“Would you rather, he introduced you as Spiderman or a random kid from Queens?” You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Peter mumbles.

“I didn’t even know they weren’t engaged before. I always assumed Mr. Stark popped the question years ago.” Peter looks at you.

“If there’s one thing my dad is always careful about, it’s timing. He’s always been good at that.” You reply.

“You actually turned my dad down? But I thought you always wanted to be an avenger?” Y/n asks Peter as the two of them sit down and share a plate of fries.

“Yeah. I mean, it would be awesome to work with your dad full-time, but I like being the friendly neighborhood spider-man.” Peter shrugs his shoulders.

“And how did he take it? I reckon, not well.” Y/n laughs.

“He was confused. As if I was turning down a Nobel Prize or something.” He replies.

“And you have no regrets turning it down?” Y/n inquires.

“I mean, there will always be an unanswered question, what would happen if I did take the job, but for now, I’m not complaining.” He answers.

“You are a very wise man, Peter Parker.” You nod your head.

“I like to take pride in my wisdom.” Peter jokes.

“You’re such a guy.” Y/n chuckles pushing him slightly.

“I will have you know that I am a man.” Peter sits up.

“Peter, you can’t even grow a stubble.” Y/n points to his chin.

“Those things take time.” He defends.

“Yeah but when puberty actually hits you, it grows immediately.” Y/n answers back.

“When I do grow a stubble, you’re gonna have to buy me a slice of pizza.” He wages.

“That’s going to take a while, won’t it? We have about, another 10 years for that, maybe?” Y/n retorts.

“You’re killing what’s left of my confidence, Stark.” Peter pretends to clutch his heart as if he’s hurt.

“What can I say? I make great tea.” Y/n takes a fry from the plate.

“What are you guys doing over here? The DJ just arrived! Let’s dance!” Tina grabs your hand but you don’t budge.

“T, I’m kinda beat. Go have fun!” You smile at your friend.

“Alright… Peter?” Tina asks.

“I’m good. I’m just gonna keep her company.” Peter smiles at you.

“You two are sickeningly sweet.” Tina just laughs before walking away.

“So I heard Ned got grounded after the party?” Y/n inquires.

“Yeah! But only for like a week. I think his mom was happier over the fact that he went to your party, than actually being upset over him coming home late.” Peter explains.

“Oh really? I should keep his name in our guest list then.” You giggle.

“I really am sorry about the whole Liz thing…. I just don’t know how to deal with female attention.” Peter reasons out.

“You’re doing pretty well with me.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s because I’m comfortable around you. You’ve iced my bruises and cleaned my injuries, like you’re used to treating wounds like a nurse or something-“ Peter mumbles.

“Not that it’s a bad thing, you’re just uhhh… You’re really good at making other people feel comfortable.” Peter adds.

“Look at you laying down the compliments tonight.” You chuckle.

“I guess, growing up with Iron Man, I’ve seen how he fixes himself, sometimes with Pepper and Happy’s help. Lately, I’ve been doing assistance for him. I love my dad and I’d do anything for him. Even if it means getting to see him beaten up or fatally injured. It all comes with the price of being Tony Stark.” Y/n sighs.

“Peter, I want you to promise me something.” Y/n looks at him.

“When you feel like you need help, tell me… or at least tell my dad. He’ll always be there to help you, you know that right?” You grab his hand.

Peter takes your hand and kisses your knuckles.

“I already have your numbers on my favorites.” He laughs.

“You’re such a dork.” You rest your head against his shoulder.

32 notes · View notes

kookiesspacebuns · 6 years

Text

Suite 114 | Pt. 1 | ((ON HOLD))

■ pairing: Jimin x Female OC

■ genre/warnings: fluff, angst, eventual smut

■ words: 6k

■ summary: An innocent staring contest leads to a not so innocent relationship.

As soon as the clock ticks 7pm, I throw the last batch of cupcakes I was frosting into the large, industrial-sized refrigerator and let the door slam shut. The loud noise makes me cringe.

I hope my manager didn’t hear that.

Yanking off my apron, I walk to the lunch room and hang it with the others on the wall. My boss, Isa, already knew I was leaving 2 hrs early today but I still poked my head into her office to let her know I was leaving. She responded with a soft smile and ‘Have fun!’ before returning to her paperwork. I was beyond lucky to find such a nice job AND the sweetest boss in the world. Most head bakers in the city were rude, with no care for any of their employees’ feelings. Especially to people like me, who had zero experience.

After 4 years in college for culinary arts, I thought finding work would be easy, but I was wrong. 21 years old and jobless made it difficult to live in the city, but thankfully this job was practically thrown into my lap 3 months ago. How many people can say they were hired through Instagram? I guess all of those perfectly staged photos of desserts I’d upload weren’t a waste of time like everyone used to tell me they were.

A loud honk let’s me know that my ride is here. I look out the front window of the bakery and see my friend, Mina, bouncing in anticipation in the driver’s seat of her car. She’s waving at me to come out with a hurried expression on her face. I quickly turn the shop’s ‘OPEN’ sign on the front door to ‘CLOSED’ and walk out, locking the door behind me. The instant the door latches closed, my heart begins pumping wildly. Adrenaline rushes throughout my body as I run to the passenger side of the car, smiling like a little girl. I practically fall into the seat before shutting the door and buckling myself in.

Mina looks at me as if in shock, “We’re going to meet the most handsome men in the world and you’re wearing….that.” She glares at my shirt.

My eyes follow hers to my soft pink colored blouse with a white peter pan collar. “I forgot to bring a change of clothes this morning. We don’t have time to stop by my place for me to change. So this is what I have to deal with.” I frown.

“Oh no. You are not going to approach your future husband looking like a maid.” She says, almost sarcastically.

My hand goes to cover my heart, pretending I’m hurt by her words. “What if Park Jimin has a maid fetish? You never know.” I purse my lips and try not to laugh, secretly hoping he does have that fetish.

She bursts out laughing and puts the car into gear before taking off. “Well, at least you don’t have to wear those ugly leather shoes you have on.” I glance down at my work shoes. “Because I love you, I brought the converse you left at my house last week. They’re in the back.” She points a finger over her right shoulder towards the back seat.

“Oh my God Mina. You’re the best! I totally forgot I had left those at your house.” I turn in my seat to look for my shoes in the back. They weren’t that easy to find, buried underneath 3 different sweaters and tons of books. I grab them and start to turn around when I spot a black sweater folded neatly on the seat.

“What’s this black sweater for?” I ask.

“Oh, I ordered it online but its it’s a little too big for me. It’s supposed to be oversized, but it’s way too oversized.” She shrugs. I raise one eyebrow and look at her small frame in the seat. She always wears super fitted clothing so the sweater probably isn’t as big as she’s making it out to be. “I have to return it when I get a chance.”

My mind won’t let me get rid of the curiosity about the sweater, so I grab it and open it up in front of me. It feels extremely soft in my hands and the knitted fabric gives easily. Almost all of it is black except for two thick white stripes going across the arms and chest. I instantly fall in love with it.

“I love it, Mina.” I hug it to my chest to show her how much I love it. She shakes her head and laughs at me. “Pleeeeeeeeease let me wear it tonight. Please.” I flash her my best puppy dog eyes.

“Really Anna? You know that doesnt work on me,” my facial expression falls back into place. “You can have it if you like it that much. It can be a super early birthday gift.”

“Awe! Thank you Mina!” My arms awkwardly wrap halfway around her torso in a makeshift hug. She playfully pushes me off of her.

“No problem, girly.”

I slip my arms into the sweater and over my head, pulling it down into place. It fits as perfectly as an oversized sweater can fit, hanging loosely on my sides and reaching almost past my bottom. Sighing contentedly, I reach down to change out of my ugly work shoes and into my black high tops. My feet slipping into my favorite shoes comfortably.

My pink socks, the only item I love from my work uniform, stop right below my knees. The grey pleated skirt touching halfway down my thighs, showing just the right amount of skin.

‘I must look like a school slacker in this outfit.’ I think to myself as I release my hair from its constricting bun and let my long chestnut curls fall down my back.

Mina breaks the short silence with a high pitched squeal. “I can’t believe we’re about to touch BTS. Anna! Are you wrapping your head around this!?” She voices loudly.

My eyes widen out of excitement. “No, I’m not wrapping my head around it fully. It probably won’t even hit me until after we’ve shaken their hands.” We both whine in unison. “I can’t believe that we spent 200 dollars just to touch them. What were we thinking?!”

“I think we were letting our hormones guide us. I just…can’t give up the chance to touch Namjoon’s hand. Anna! Oh my gosh!!!! We’re almost there.” She starts shaking in her seat and fanning her face with one hand. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

I raise one eyebrow in her direction. Calm down Mina. It’s just a hand.

A really beautiful hand…

Oh my…I’m about to touch Jimin’s hands.

His delicate fingers are going to wrap around mine……I bet they are so smooth.

I bet his lips are smooth too….

I clench my eyes shut and cover my face with both of my hands, trying to clear my mind and keep myself from freaking out like my current chauffeur is doing. Mina is practically hyperventilating in my ear, making it hard for me to calm down.

“Mina! Pay attention to the road! We have to make it there without crashing before we can touch them. Okay?!” I say as calm as I can, even though my insides are as worked up as Mina’s.

It would be a horrible death, crashing on the way to a BTS fan meet. Leaving this world before meeting the man that fuels my, mostly naughty, dreams at night. He would see the news of our car crash not even knowing how much he drove my insides crazy. Tragic. Imagining how soft his hands feel is enough to satisfy me for the rest of my life….and enough to have me squeezing my thighs together right now.

You are in so deep, Anna.

Arriving at the convention center, I immediately regret not just taking the day off. The line to get in is beyond ridiculous. At least 200 fans are waiting, in a barely-moving line, trailing all the way down the street. Thankfully as we pass by the front entrance, we notice a separate line with a sign that says ‘VIP Ticket Holders’, which is what we spent a fortune on wondering if it would be worth it or not.

Mina and I speak in unison, “Definitely worth it.” We look at each other and screech.

We park and practically run to the VIP line. Only six other people are in front of us and our line is moving rather fast. I look to my side at Mina who is fixing her makeup in a little pocket mirror, then glance around to see that almost every other girl is doing the same. I grab my lip moisturizer from my little black backpack and apply it slowly while still observing everyone else. Should I have worn makeup? I could count on both hands how many times I’ve worn makeup in my life. I think its it’s mostly laziness that keeps me from even giving it a chance. I still keep a little bag of essentials at home, in case I have to go somewhere formal.

It starts to sprinkle, which makes the ticket holders work a little faster. We enter the building and rush over to the table where they keep all of the extra goodies that are included in our VIP package. One of the ladies hands me a paper-sized photo for the autographs, an army bomb keychain, a pack of 3D stickers, and of course, my VIP lanyard. The main reason we paid for VIP tickets was to participate in the new activity they introduced for this meet. Apparently, we’ll get a random surprise action we get to do with one BTS member. I’ve heard rumors of selfies and serenades, but serenades seem too good to be true. I hope it is true though. I put the lanyard around my neck and follow Mina into the main room filled with seats.

Taking up most of the room are hundreds of folding chairs arranged so that there’s one big aisle down the middle leading to the stage. On the stage is a long table covered in a black tablecloth. Seven glass bowls filled with what looks like folded pieces of paper are evenly spread along the table top. Behind the table is a big screen covering most of the wall, the rest concealed by long, red velvet curtains.

Mina grabs my hand and drags me to the closest seats we can find, which is in the 3rd row on the left side. We maneuver past other fans already sitting down to two empty seats in the middle of the row. Once seated, we take out all of our new goodies and fangirl over them like everyone around us is doing too. I keep staring at Jimin’s beautiful face in the photo we were given. Mina, doesn’t stop talking about how sexy Namjoon is in his black choker necklace he’s wearing in the photo.

After about half an hour the room is completely full and buzzing with the voices of fangirls and fanboys. I’m almost to the point of putting earphones in to block out all of the noise when the lights dim and someone approaches the microphone on the corner of the stage. As the man speaks, he welcomes us to the fan meet and lists the rules we must follow. No unsolicited touching. No screaming in their faces. No kissing. No gifts. No sharing of personal information. And no pushing.

Some in the crowd groan as he finishes saying the rules. When he speaks again, everyone quiets down. “Today we are testing a new activity that’s never been done before. On the table there are 7 bowls filled with slips of paper. Inside each piece of paper there is a random activity that can be done with that corresponding member. This activity is only available to the VIP ticket holders and can only be done for one member, so choose wisely!”

With that, the noise in the room reaches the loudest it’s been so far. Everyone around us loudly discusses what they think the activities are, ignoring the speaker who is trying to recapture the crowd’s attention.

He finally finishes talking and introduces BTS, causing what feels like the whole building to shake as everyone stands up and screams. Namjoon comes out first in the line and Mina grips my arm as she jumps up and down, screaming beside me. The rest of the members file out after him and stand at the front of the stage to introduce themselves one by one, finishing with a bow.

My heart skips a few beats at the sight of Jimin. A smile is plastered to his handsome face and his dark hair is parted to the side, showing just enough of his forehead. Even the way the way he bows makes me scream internally.

They take their seats behind the table and smile at the crowd while giving finger hearts and arm hearts. Jimin does a big heart with his arms and screams, “I love you AMI!”. My heart explodes in my chest at his absolute cuteness.

Now I’m the one acting crazy.

My cheeks flush red and I jump up on my tippy toes to get a better look at him.

Why am I so short?

I can’t control the pout on my face when I fail at getting a better view. The thought of standing on my chair crosses my mind many times throughout the meet. There were several times when the crowd would go wild and I couldn’t even see what happened. Mina is no help either beside me screaming her head off. Thankfully the girls in front of me sit down halfway through, allowing me to finally enjoy myself.

When the time comes to start forming the line to go onto the stage, my nerves are through the roof. Fans are pushing each other and cutting in line, despite being told to line up in the order we were seated. We wait in line, chatting nervously while watching the members sign things and shake hands with other fans. One girl selects a piece of paper from the bowl in front of Jungkook and immediately screams. When she shows Jungkook the paper, he smiles and gets up to lean over the table. The girl takes out her phone and snaps a selfie with Jungkook as he rests his head on her shoulder and holds up a peace sign. My insides do somersaults just imagining taking a picture like that with Jimin.

Many others in front of us pick out slips from the bowls of whichever member they want, each time squealing and screaming as they read the paper; their screams making my nerves worse each time. So far I’ve only seen people receive selfies and kisses on the hand.

There’s got to be more than those two right?

Once we’re up on the stage, I tell Mina to go before me. She obliges and giddily moves in front of me. I watch her with a racing heart shake J-hope’s hand and tell him how much she loves him. He responds with ‘I love you too’ and flashes her a huge grin before holding his arms out towards her. They hug as I stare at them open-mouthed.

This lucky bitch.

He signs her photo and moves on, giving space for me to approach. He laughs at the incredulous look on my face and reaches his hand out the shake mine.

Oh my gosh, I’m touching Hobi.

His hands are rough….

But also so warm.

I blurt out, “You have a beautiful personality.” He blushes slightly.

“Thank you.” he says.

I hand him my picture to sign. “No, thank you!”

I scrunch my face, cringing at my awkwardness.

Well, it wasn’t a lie…

I hope he doesn’t think I’m weird.

I take my picture and move on to the next few members, trying not to talk too much and embarrass myself. First Tae, then onto Jungkook sitting right next to him. He has his arm around Tae’s shoulder.

Taekook confirmed?

Next is Yoongi who is as chill as ever, leaning back in his chair smiling as I approach him. I slide him the picture and say, “Your lyrics have helped me through so many hard times in my life.”

He sits up and smiles brightly at me. “Thank you so much.” he responds.

I know Namjoon is next just by the high pitched squeal coming from Mina’s direction. I look over at her as Yoongi signs my picture. Namjoon is laughing hard at her reaction and points to the bowl of papers in front of him. Her eyes go wide and she hurriedly reaches in to grab one, then lifts it to read.

“Selca!!!!” she says a little louder than necessary. Namjoon mouths ‘Ahh’ and leans over the table to take a selfie with her. He holds fingers up behind her head, making her face turn beet red. I hear the shutter noise at least 5 times before he sits back down.

Yoongi is still holding the photo and enjoying the show next to us. I reach for it and say, “Thank you.” He smiles and waves.

I barely even register Namjoon speaking to me because of the fact that Jimin is sitting right next to him, and Mina is handing him her picture.

Holy shit.

Namjoon waves his hands widely in front of my face, causing Jimin to notice and look over at me. Our eyes meet and my heart stops beating. He smiles at me.

Holy crap. Calm down heart.

I turn my head to look at Namjoon quickly. He’s shaking his head and grinning with one side of his mouth.

Fuck, I hope I didn’t offend him.

“I’m so sorry.” I apologize quickly and hand him my photo. He takes it and starts autographing it.

“No worries.” he says before handing it back. I grab it and practically bend it with how tense my fingers are, trying to suppress my growing nervousness.

Mina grabs my hand, pulling me out of my trance, and practically yanks me to stand in front of Jimin. She must know how jumbled up my insides are.

Jimin is gazing at me with raised eyebrows when I finally look up at him. His plump lips pursed together as if he’s trying not to smile. I stare at them for a whole second too long and lay my photo on the table in front of me.

My mind goes completely blank, “Ahhh……”

“I love your bracelet.” he says.

What?

Out of instinct I grab my right wrist with my other hand and look down at it. My silver chain bracelet with a single chimmy charm hangs loosely around my wrist.

Duh….how could I forget?

“Uhh…..thank you!” I spit out awkwardly.

Shit. He has to know now that he’s my bias…

I make eye contact with him a few times before I remember the bowl in front of him. He sees me glance at it and pushes it towards me on the table.

Smiling, I reach in and grab a piece of paper hoping it will be something that will help break me out of this awkward situation I am in with Jimin. Park. Jimin. I mentally cross my fingers and open the slip.

I furrow my eyebrows at what it says and hesitantly look at Jimin’s eyes watching me intently. My mouth opens slightly.

“Staring contest?” I say questioningly.

His face immediately lights up and a blinding smile spreads across it. “I wasn’t expecting that!” he exclaims.

A quiet giggle escapes my lips, “Me either..”

Jimin laughs at my confused face and reaches out to grab both of my hands. My heart flutters wildly in my chest at the sensation of his skin grazing mine.

Ahhhhh.

He’s….touching me.

I hold my breath and try to savor the feeling of his soft hands on mine, locking it in my memories for later reference.

“Are you ready?” he tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to respond.

I’ll never be ready…

“Yes.” I respond, barely above a whisper.

He grabs both of my hands tighter and runs his thumb on the back my left hand. My soul leaves my body as he bites one side of his bottom lip.

I’m not gonna survive this at all.

He licks his lips, “Okay…..Go!”

Our staring contest comenses.

I try not to think about how dumb my face looks right now, my eyes wide open trying not to blink and my mouth open as well, concentrating as hard as I can. Those deep brown eyes staring back at me widen and come closer.

He wiggles his eyebrows trying to get me to break, but I hold steady and bite my lip hard to withhold from breaking eye contact.

When he lowers his head slightly so that he’s gazing up at me under low lids I feel heat surge to my cheeks and unwillingly to my core.

Oh my God. This is actually turning me on.

My cheeks grow even more red with the thought of being turned on by Jimin…..right in front of him as he watches me.

I notice him moving slightly in his seat before he let’s go of one of my hands and puts it under the table, out of view. My heart drops at the loss of his warm hand but he repays me with a quick slip of his tongue over his lips, then pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it lightly.

I accidently let out a barely audible groan, but it must have been loud enough for him to hear because his eyes immediately go wide and he lets loose of the tight hold he has on his lip. A slow smile creeps across his face. It’s as if he knows how he’s affecting me with those eyes and mouth of his. If only he knew how much they did affect me most nights….

I feel my hand being turned so that my palm is facing up, then his finger sliding from my wrist all the way to the tip of my middle finger, sending little shocks up my arm and through my body. I almost look down at what he’s doing, but I mentally catch myself. I honestly don’t know how much more of this I can handle.

My lower abdomen is tight and tingling when he separates his lush lips and runs his tongue over them slowly and sensually. I blink rapidly and inhale a harsh breath before covering my face with both of my hands and whining into them.

Fuck. I lost.

It was well worth it though.

A beautiful and heartwarming laugh makes me uncover my face and look my victor in the eyes. I pout my lips, pretending I’m upset. Which is honestly far from the truth. I’d gladly lose 100 times over just to see him lick his lips like that again, despite the embarrassment on my side.

He has a cocky grin on his face when he says, “I won.”

So much blood rushes to my face that I feel faint for a moment. I’ve never been attracted to cockiness up until this point.

“Yeah…that wasn’t fair at all to me though!” I respond.

“Why?” he asks with a quizzical look.

Really?

“You can’t expect me to not crack when you’re making those types of faces at me.” I cringe inwardly realizing that I basically just confessed how much his actions really affected me.

He smirks again, “What types of faces?”

My eyes go big.

Wow.

“You….uhh.” I look away for a split second then turn back shaking my head. “Nevermind.”

“Come on,” he laughs.

I start to reply but stop when I see Namjoon nudging Jimin in his side to get his attention.

“You’re holding up the line.” he tells him.

I glance to my left to see that everyone in front of me has already gotten off stage and gone back to their seats. Jin is sitting to the left of Jimin, staring open-mouthed at me.

Holy crap.

He must’ve been watching everything transpiring between Jimin and I. I now have a permanent blush on my cheeks. I smile softly at him and turn back to face Jimin when I hear him speak.

“What’s your name?” he holds out his hand in front of me.

Does he want to hold my hand again?

“Don’t you have a picture for me to sign?” he says in his soft voice.

“Oh! Yeah!” I hand him the photo to sign.

“So, what’s your name?” he smiles.

“Uh. ah…..Anna.”

“Anna..” he repeats it back to me softly. My name falling off his lips like a treasured word, making my heart squeeze. His hand moves across the picture gracefully as he signs it.

The noise of the rest of the room starts getting loud again. I look to my right to see the next two girls behind me glaring daggers my way.

Geez…

Jimin is still writing as I look away from the girls’ harsh stares. How extravagant must his signature be if he’s taking this long? Maybe he’s writing a cute message for me too?

Just as I start to really question how much longer he’s going to take, he finishes and swiftly hands me the photo.

“Bye.” he says grinning.

This boy and his smiling.

I smile back and wave goodbye before moving on to Jin. He says hi and takes the picture from my hands, giving me the final signature I need. I watch him look for an empty space to sign, his eyes searching the photo before widening and looking up at me fast.

What?

I raise one eyebrow out of habit.

What’s wrong with him?

He looks back down and quickly signs his name before handing it back to me. I grab it slowly and pull it to my chest, wondering why he’s acting so strange.

“Thank you.” I say and head back to my seat.

When I reach my seat, Mina is staring at me as if she were looking at a ghost.

“What!?….What is it?” I ask, thinking there must be something wrong with my hair or maybe something stuck in my teeth. Panic seizes my chest as I think of how that could be why Jin was staring at me so surprised.

I sit down in my seat and continue watching her, waiting for her to answer me. “Mina, what?” She looks around us, causing me to follow suit. Everyone close to us is either openly glaring or trying to act like they aren’t.

“People keep talking about ‘the girl holding up the line’"

I look back up on stage to see who shes talking about when it registers that it was me. I AM the girls who was holding up the line.

Oh God.

“Umm….how long was I up there?” I ask.

“Well, I’ve been back in my seat for almost five minutes now.”

“Five minutes!?”

She nods her head. Everyone must be mad that I was at the table longer…..Oh well. I shake my head and sit back. I try to enjoy the rest of the event and pretend I don’t feel everyone staring at me.

Watching the rest of the fans finish up on stage, I can’t help but glance at Jimin every once in a while. Unexpectedly he’s looking right at me when I look over at him around the fifth time. I freeze, not being able to break eye contact with him. Soon another fan goes up to him and he looks away.

It’s not that I don’t want him to look at me, it’s just that it feels like I can’t breathe every time he does.

We make eye contact a few more times before I decide to stop looking his way.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Hey, I have to go to the bathroom….I’ll be right back.” Mina whispers.

“Okay.”

The crowd starts screaming and some stand up as soon as Mina leaves the row. I look over in the direction where everyones looking to see two girls taking pictures with Jungkook and Tae.

I wish I could’ve gotten a picture with Jimin.

Subconsciously, my eyes look over at Jimin. He’s relaxed, leaning back in his chair and staring right at me. It’s not a friendly stare, more like a dark stare. He glances around him then holds a picture up in front if him and points at it.

I furrow my brows and look down at the signed picture in my lap. I totally forgot to look at it after everyone signed it. Lifting it up, I glance over everyones signature until I get to jimins.

But its it’s not just a signature…

He wrote my name with hearts on either side followed by his beautiful signature. Underneath is smaller writing. I bring it closer to make out what it says and my heart drops into my stomach.

There’s a hotel name….and a suite number.

Suite 114.

What?

Suite 114….

HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

I know he’s watching me from the tingle I feel on the back of my neck. For sure he’s laughing at my reaction to seeing what he wrote. I’m not even sure if this is real. Is he serious? Is this a joke? Why would Park Jimin want me to know where he is staying?

My stomach heats up just thinking of the things that could happen in that hotel room. Things that I’ve dreamt of many times….

But he might not be thinking that way…..

The tingling feeling is gone so I peek up at him while still keeping my head down. Thankfully he’s signing a photo and not staring me down, making me feel nervous. I can’t take my eyes off of the way his dark hair falls in front of his face. He runs his hand through those black locks and hands the fan her picture, returning his gaze to me once again.

My heart is beating three times faster than it should be as I stare back, not having the mental strength to look away. He flashes me a devilish smile and licks those plump, pink lips once again.

He definitely doesn’t want to just have tea with me in that hotel room…

As hard as it is, I avoid looking towards his end of the table for the rest of the meet. It eventually ends and all of the members of BTS bow and exit the room. The crowd is enormous and it is complete HELL leaving the building, and even worse leaving the parking lot.

We manage to make it back to my apartment around midnight. It should’ve only taken us half an hour to get there, but instead it took two.

On the drive home I told Mina everything that happened between me and Jimin in excruciating detail. She started crying as I described the encounter. To be honest I’m not sure why I’m not crying as well. My ultimate bias wants me to meet him in his hotel room. It’s like I’m living in a fucking fan fiction! Mina didn’t believe it was true until I took out my picture and showed her, which probably wasn’t the best idea seeing as she almost drove off of the road after looking at it.

We walk up the steps to my door and enter my apartment. Well, me and my sister’s apartment. I share one with her for financial reasons. And besides Mina, she’s my best friend.

Mina is grabbing onto my arm as we enter, talking rapidly about whether Jimin could introduce her to Namjoon or not. My sister is sprawled out on the couch half asleep when we walk in and turn the lights on. Mina immediately runs over and throws herself down beside her, grabbing her shoulders. She takes a deep breath before spilling the news.

“Guess who got Jimin’s hotel room number!?” she practically yells in my sisters face.

My sister, Vee, dramatically rubs her eyes and turns to look at me. “NO…You didn’t!” I see her eyes sparkling. I can tell she’s about to freak out like Mina and join in on her bouncing from wall to wall in excitement.

I sigh, “Yeah….” I cover my ears to protect them from the glass-shattering scream my sister releases. She grabs Mina’s hands and they jump around the room like excited children.

Why am I so annoyed by this?

My thoughts are all over the place, my mind almost not even believing I’m awake right now. For some reason, seeing my sister and best friend flipping out makes me want to lock myself in my room. Maybe I just need time to comprehend it all.

I turn, heading in the direction of my room. I make it halfway down the hall before my sister grabs me and pulls me back towards the living room.

“Wait. Why aren’t you freaking out, Anna?” she asks me.

“I don’t know….I am on the inside, trust me! But it’s just so surreal, I feel like its it’s too good to be true.” I’ve never been one to get my hopes up, and this situation was no different.

She holds her hand up to her face and shakes her head. “Well it’s real! Do you even know what this means?!” she smiles hard and waits for me to reply. I just shrug, not having the energy to express everything I’m feeling right now. “Wait….what exactly happened. How did it lead to that?”

As I head to the kitchen to grab something to drink, Mina tells her everything that I described to her on the drive here. I open the fridge and to grab a bottle of water when I see a half empty bottle of moscato in the back. I grab it and pour myself a glass, filling it nearly to the rim. I down half of it, barely even tasting it.

What am I going to do?

Wait. Why am I even questioning this? I can’t deny Park Jimin.

But what if this is all a big joke? What if I show up and him and the rest of BTS laugh at me for having false hope. I don’t think they’d do that…..not those angels…..but it’s all so skeptical.

What if he does this all the time?

Oh my God. What if he just wants a one night stand? I mean…I probably wouldn’t say no but…still it’d be nice knowing what I’m getting myself into before I show up.

Ugh I just don’t know.

My sister’s voice makes me jump, causing some of the wine in my glass to splash onto the floor.

“Well, someone’s clearly stressed.” she giggles and puts her hand on her hip. “Since when do you drink my wine?”

“Since….now.” I tilt the bottom of the glass into air as I gulp down the rest of the wine before placing the empty glass in the sink. I wipe up the little that spilled onto the floor and face my sister.. “Vee, I don’t know what to think right now.”

She and Mina stand side by side, staring at me in disbelief.

“What do you mean you dont know what think?” Mina half yells. “You need to think about what you’re gonna wear when you go to meet Jimin…..easy as that.” my sister nods in agreement.

Groaning, I look at them both. “I don’t know guys, what does he want though?” I say, even though deep down I know full well what he wants. The thought makes my body temperature rise.

“Maybe he wants to get to know you more?” says Vee.

“Or maybe he just wants to fuck.” Mina states matter-of-factly. I groan again and cover my face with my hands.

My sisters voice gets closer, “You’ll never know if you don’t go Sis, and don’t even stand here and tell me that you’d say no to him if that’s what he really wants.”

“I need to go lay down.” I let out a sigh.

Mina gets the hint and pulls me in for a hug, “Okay, just let me know what happens.”

I walk her to the door then head to my room, bypassing my sister as she stands in the middle of the hall.

“I really just need sleep first, Vee.” I say, avoiding eye contact.

My room instantly calms me as I enter. I shut the door and lock it behind me. I find my pajamas and change into them before throwing myself on my bed.

I am so mentally exhausted and confused that I don’t even consider taking a shower. I need to stop thinking and close my eyes. I soon fall asleep and drift into my dreams….

MASTERLIST

#jimin #park jimin #bts jimin #btssmut #jimin smut #smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #fluff #bangtanhq #ficswithluv

239 notes · View notes

star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 6 years

Text

Escape: Not in Love

Word Count: 5622 Tags: @shewhorunswithfandoms @distinguishedqueenofbooks @anyakinamidala @anotherotter @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @wanderingkat77 @bluebird214 @superwholockedbeauty @eyeofdionysus @all-time-foes @girl-next-door-writes @feelmyroarrrr @castiels-ass-butt-1967 @haven-in-writing @sistasarah-sallysaidso @dolamrothianlady @from-kitten-to-kitsune @geeksareunique

Author’s Note: Roxanne finds herself talked into touring with the cover band. Peter finds himself pining after a Terran. But he's not in love. Continuation of Escape

Roxanne sat at the light table in the back of the tour bus, carefully hand lettering the posters for the next four concerts. Across the table from her, the bass guitar player, Alex, was colouring her doodles in with copic markers before dropping the finished posters into the box that was being sent to the printer as soon as they made it into New York City. They worked in companionable silence. From the front of the bus, Roxanne could hear Jinx tapping on the wall while Ken, the guitarist, noodled on his acoustic.

“I know you didn’t want to do the big venue concerts in this tour, Rox, but I think kicking off your tour big like this is going to be really awesome for the foundation,” Alex suddenly spoke.

“Yeah?” Roxanne wasn’t really paying attention.

“There are a lot of kids who are going to benefit from the proceeds of this tour. I’m glad you decided to start it out with a huge Pixie Stix concert,” Alex clarified.

“I’m not the only one who made the decision, Alex.”

“No, but you are the person who was adamant it all be small venues. I think the exposure is going to help the foundation get a really solid start.” Alex went back to colouring.

“It wasn’t until I read about how poorly Americans are showing in the sciences that I realized we needed to throw as much money at the problem as we could. It changed my focus. I’m glad you threw the research my way, Al,” Roxanne shrugged.

“So my kid sister was telling me about how Stark Industries is sponsoring a women in sciences program now. They’ve got buy in from a pile of other STEM companies as well. She applied for one of their summer camps. It sounds pretty rad,” Alex segued. Roxanne’s eyebrow quirked.

“Oh?”

“Maybe you should get Jerry to contact Stark Industries and see if we can’t work together. Stark is a billionaire, right? If we could get him to throw a few zeroes on the back of the foundation’s bank account it could do some real good,” Alex suggested. Roxanne shrugged.

“I don’t know. Stark’s kind of a dick, don’t you think?”

“TV always makes famous people look like dicks. Remember when you and Jinx split?” Alex reminded her. Roxanne made a sound of disgust. Every TV tabloid show had speculated on what and why they were divorcing, going as far as to make up details when they refused to release a statement. When Roxanne finally lost her temper at a paparazzi reporter who’d been stalking her, even people in the know started freaking out that the band was going to split. She rolled her eyes.

“I guess. I’d rather see what we can do on our own, you know? Star-Lady and the astronauts was a pet project. If we can start a grassroots campaign to improve educational opportunities for all kids, on our own, we’ll have started a dialogue within the music fan base. Maybe that seems narrow-minded, I don’t know,” Roxanne sighed. “I just like the idea of us starting something without corporate sponsorship.”

“Stark has been a questionable company in the past. We don’t want to alienate potential supporters,” Alex agreed.

“Besides, that dude is always looking for a sound bite. He’d probably show up at all our press and divert attention,” Roxanne pointed out.

“Solid.” Alex slid the last poster into the box and capped his markers, carefully returning them to the wooden box he stored all his art supplies in. Roxanne stretched and folded the table away, pulling the mattress across it.

“Here’s the part where I kick you out of my bunk so I can get some sleep. I’ve been crazy tired the past few weeks,” she yawned. Alex tilted his head in concern.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just feeling run down. There was a lot more braining that went into this tour. I had to micromanage Jerry to get him to back down from insisting on the huge stadium tour idea, and he refused to try to source more affordable and ethical vendors for memorabilia and and and.” Her complaint was stifled by another yawn.

“Take your vitamins, Rox. This is going to be a busy four months.” Alex teased.

“Get out of my bunk. We have a week off at the midpoint. I’ll rest up then,” Roxanne shouldered him toward the door of the tiny room. Alex raised his hands in surrender and backed away.

“You won’t be resting then. That’s birthday week!” He protested.

“Out!” Roxanne exclaimed, pushing him past the door, and pulling it shut.

“Roxy Rain! Tell us about the line-up for tonight’s concert!” Carmen, the radio DJ, was too bubbly, too excited. Roxanne smiled and adjusted the headset on her ears.

“We’ve got representation in Star-Lady and the astronauts from Pixie Stix, Dr. Schrödinger’s Kitty, Chainlink Fence and Spleen, so we decided for the kick-off concert, we’d each do a 30 minute set. Then Star-Lady and the astronauts will wrap up the concert with two half hour sets. So it’s a good long concert, well worth the price of the ticket. And you’ll be supporting the newly founded Star-Lady foundation for Science education.” Roxanne took a long swig from the coffee in front of her when she finished speaking.

“That’s ninety minutes of front-of-the-stage rocking for you, Roxy. Sounds exhausting!”

“It’ll be worth it. We’re doing 4 big city concerts on the tour; each one will feature one of the bands from tonight, plus Star-Lady and the astronauts. But for the most part, the Star-Lady concerts are going to be in smaller venues across America, and the profit from those concerts will be put back into science education in those communities. It’s going to be a busy four months.”

“Sounds like it’ll be worth it. What makes musicians want to give to science education?” Carmen asked.

“We’re all scientists first. Music was a passion that paid off in a big way for each member of Star-Lady and the astronauts, but the sciences are where we cut our teeth, and where we’d all planned to have careers,” Roxanne explained. She knew she would be explaining the same thing in every city they visited for the next four months. And she was already exhausted. She plastered a smile on her face.

“Any chance you’ll drop us a hint on what you’ll be playing tonight?” Carmen pressed. Roxanne laughed and picked up her acoustic guitar.

“Most of what Star-Lady does is cover music, but this is an original tune. It’s being released next week and as with everything from the tour, the profits are going to support science education and programs in communities across the country,” Roxanne explained. “You’ll have to forgive my playing, I don’t often pick up a guitar anymore, so I’m a little rusty.” She picked at the strings to make sure the guitar was tuned, and strummed a couple of practice chords. Carmen cocked her head and narrowed her eyes.

“Wait, before you start,” she interrupted. “This is an song that hasn’t been released? So you’re giving us a world premiere?” Roxanne pulled a face and giggled.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she nodded.

“Okay, folks, you’re hearing it here first, Roxy Rain from Pixie Stix and Star-Lady and the astronauts with the world premiere of the first single from the Star-Lady and the astronauts album!”

Roxanne could feel herself flushing and started playing the guitar again. She cleared her throat and winked at the DJ, who was nearly vibrating with excitement.

“I haven’t played guitar for anyone in ages. So everyone listening needs to remember, I’m the singer, okay?” She laughed self-consciously, and took a deep breath. “Hey spaceman, won’t you take me for a ride?” The words slipped out and the gentle musicality of Roxanne’s acoustic voice silenced the room. She was used to that. Any time she did acoustic work, and didn’t have what she called her ‘rock star voice’ amped to eleven, people fell silent. It was like they forget that she was actually a musician, if that made any sense. It didn’t to her, but she still noticed it. Her fingers stumbled on the guitar, but her voice was carrying the song anyhow. The guys had all said it was a strong melody when she’d written it, and there was very minimal accompaniment on the release or in practice.

“That’s a love song, Roxy,” Carmen commented, her eyebrow raised. Roxanne laughed.

“Sure. Here’s the thing. My background in the sciences has been esoteric Pixie Stix trivia for years, but I am a scientist at heart. And my specialty is space. Of course I’m in love with the notion of space travel, and seeing past our atmosphere. There is so much more than this little earth out there for us, and we have no idea what it all holds,” Roxanne shrugged.

“So if a spaceman offered, you’d tag along on an intergalactic adventure?” Carmen smirked, pressing for an answer.

“In a heartbeat,” Roxanne laughed. “That’s not realistic though is it? I’d have to wrap the tour, and plan to be off the grid for a while, get my affairs in order. There’d be too many questions otherwise, right?”

“Well, we know there is other life out there now,” Carmen led.

“Sure, we know there’s life out there, but is it life that is compatible with ours? So far, the aliens that have visited earth have been largely out to destroy it,” Roxanne stated. “Not exactly compatible with my romantic notions about travelling the universe.”

“They say that Thor is an alien,” Carmen waggled her eyebrows. “I’ve got some romantic notions about him.”

Roxanne couldn’t help but laugh. “Fair enough. But the aliens that invaded New York? Or the ones that hit London? They don’t really strike me as the kind that would like a human tag-along. In the end, it’s a song, and sure, it’s romantic. Because music is supposed to make us dream about the extraordinary.”

“Like aliens who are hot like Thor coming to sweep you off your feet,” Carmen determined.

“Exactly,” Roxanne laughed.

“I love the song, Roxy, I love the album. I love the motivation for the tour and I just love everything about you. I can’t wait for the concert tonight. I’m looking forward to following the tour and seeing all the awesome science stuff you guys are able to purchase to support education. I wish you all the best,” Carmen started to wrap up the interview. “We just released some tickets for the sold-out opening night of the Star-Lady and the astronauts tour tonight, and if you don’t have any luck at the box office, stay tuned because we are giving away three more pairs of tickets with backstage meet and greet coming up on the half hours. Thanks again for coming in, Roxy Rain!”

“Well thanks for having me. It’s been fun. See you tonight!” Roxanne waited until her mic had been turned off before she rose and packed up her guitar. “How’s the ticket give away been going?”

Carmen finished flicking some switches on the console to run the next music set. “It’s been cool. People are really excited. Last week, everyone who was entered to win tickets had to donate to an education program for underprivileged kids. We wound up raising over $3500 for a science program in the Bronx. Then Stark Industries matched it. Which was cool.”

“That’s very cool. I heard something about a women in STEM initiative that Stark Industries started,” Roxanne nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve got the info on it in my email. Want me to forward it to you? We’ve been giving it a lot of airtime. It sounds solid awesome.”

“Yeah, that would be cool,” Roxanne yawned. “Man, I’m sorry. I am already so bagged and the tour hasn’t even started. I’m going to need lots of B12 over the next few weeks.”

“I hope your bunk is comfy,” Carmen teased.

“That is where I am headed right now. I’ve got time for a catnap before I need to carb up for the show,” Roxanne laughed. “I’ll see you at the meet and greet. It was nice to meet you, Carmen.” She made her way out of the studio and down to the waiting driver, who returned her to the stadium. While set up continued, she pushed to the back of the tour bus and crashed in her bunk, becoming dead to the world.

“Rox, come eat, love,” Jinx shook her shoulder. Roxanne rolled over in the dim light of the bus and rubbed her eyes.

“It’s dark,” Roxanne mumbled.

“Yeah, dinner’s ready, you have thirty minutes before you need to be in hair and make-up. Meet and greet in 2 hours, concert in three.” Jinx ran through the itinerary quickly.

“Why did you let me sleep so long?” She stretched and yawned.

“This is the third time I’ve been in to wake you, love. I told you that you needed more sleep. You can’t start this tour run down, Rox.” Jinx was scolding, but his tone was gentle. It reminded her why she’d married him. She scrubbed her hand down her face and nodded.

“Straight to bed after the concert tonight, I promise.” She held her hand across her heart.

“Come eat then.” Jinx pulled her to her feet.

“In a heartbeat. That’s not realistic though is it?” The voice crackled across the radio and Rocket rolled his eyes.

“How did you manage to find a smart one, Quill?” He asked, fiddling around with some strange components.

“I didn’t find – you know, forget it, you wouldn’t understand.” Peter pushed out of his seat and stepped over to the radio, switching it back over to the iPod.

“Understand what exactly? That a month after leaving Terra we’re back in orbit over it, despite having nothing of value for us?”

“There’s value in Terra!” Peter exclaimed.

“There’s a girl on Terra, Quill, that’s not exactly our line of work, unless you want to add sex-trafficking to our list of potential jobs?” Rocket snapped.

“What?” Peter was confused.

“The way I see it, Quill, we’re back here because of that woman. And you said she was nothing special when we left Terra last month, so what gives?” Rocket demanded.

“Maybe she is something special,” Gamora suggested. “We haven’t been further than a quadrant away from Terra since we left.”

“Or maybe I’m homesick!” Peter protested.

“Explain why we’ve been listening to her radio interview for the past fifteen minutes?” Gamora demanded. Peter huffed out a sigh of defeat.

“You know what? Screw you guys. Maybe I would like to see her again!” Peter threw up his arms. “What does it matter?”

“She wrote a song about you, Quill. She wants to see you again too,” Gamora pointed out.

“That song was not about Quill. That song was about metaphors,” Drax protested. Gamora rolled her eyes. Peter threw his hands up in defeat and stalked toward the galley.

“It’s a good thing Rocket knows how to use the google,” Gamora sighed. “He managed to win you tickets to the concert tonight.” Peter froze between rooms, and turned slowly back to face the rest of the crew.

“What?”

“You can pick it up at the stadium box office,” Rocket confirmed. Peter’s eyes narrowed, disbelieving what he was hearing. “What? It’s why we’re here. It’s why you’ve been irritable. Go see the girl, get her out of your system, and then we can get back to loot. And credits.” Rocket watered Groot’s pot as he spoke.

After a huge coffee and a refill, Roxanne was feeling slightly more human. She devoured the steak and pasta that Jinx dropped in front of her, and made her way to hair and make up. She flopped down in the chair, nursing a third enormous coffee, feeling the caffeine work its way through her system.

“Roxy, meet and greet in ten,” Jerry leaned in through the door. Roxanne nodded and waved him off. She just needed to get dressed, and she had plenty of time to do that between the meet and greet and the stage call. She made her way out to the backstage fan area, still holding her coffee cup. She had on a pair of patterned leggings and a long t-shirt. It wasn’t a look she ever wore on stage, but she suspected she’d be seeing more of it in her fan base after the concert. The DJ from earlier was wrangling fans, and waved at her. She waved back, and then realized that Carmen was actually waving her over.

“Heya?” Roxanne met her halfway between the fan line and where she’d been standing.

“There’s a dude here to pick up tickets he won but he’s got no ID. Claims he knows you and you could ID him,” Carmen looked awkward.

“Oh yeah? What’s he say his name is?” Roxanne walked with Carmen back to the pick up area.

“Roxanne!” She heard a familiar male voice call. Her eyes narrowed and her head snapped around to where the voice had come from. It was Peter. She smiled broadly.

“This the guy?” She asked Carmen. Carmen nodded.

“Peter Quill?” Carmen looked down at her clipboard.

“Yeah, I know him,” Roxanne lengthened her stride and headed toward Peter. She threw her arms around him across the metal barricade separating the unsecured area from where she was standing. “You are a sight for sore eyes, Pete.”

“You look amazing, Rox.”

“Professional hair and make-up.” She waved it off, pulling away. She nodded at the security guard, who allowed Peter to pass through the gate into the secured area. Roxanne slipped her arm into the crook of Peter’s elbow and led him back to where the fans were. Roxanne tugged Peter’s shoulder down to whisper in his ear. “I’m not gonna have much time to catch up, Pete, but I’ll let security know you can stick around after the show.”

“I’d enjoy catching up,” Peter smiled. Roxanne winked and let go of his arm, to walk over to the fans waiting to meet her. Carmen was talking to them as she approached, and Roxanne glanced over her shoulder, looking for the ‘astronauts’. She saw them over near a table of food, looking uncomfortable. She reeled around and headed over to her bandmates.

“Guys, you need to relax. These people are here for you. And they’re science geeks. Check out the t-shirts,” Roxanne pointed out the front row of fans. There was a Carl Sagan t-shirt, a periodic table t-shirt and one that made a pun about covalent bonds that sent the drummer into fits of giggles. “Let’s go meet some people, shall we?”

Roxanne led the group over to the fans and waited for Carmen to bring everyone in. They cycled through the group, chatting with everyone, and eventually the rest of the band got more relaxed. Just as they were wrapping up, Carmen approached them again.

“Your friend is hot.” She gave Peter a once over. Roxanne smirked.

“Is he?” Roxanne was purposely vague.

“He is. I bet you’d run away in a heartbeat if he was your spaceman,” Carmen teased, winking. Roxanne let out a loud, surprised laugh.

“You have no idea,” she muttered as she walked toward Peter. She very carefully didn’t touch him on approach. “You look good enough to eat, Mr. Quill.”

Peter arched an eyebrow. “I don’t think we have time for that right now, Roxanne.”

“True story. Let me grab you an access pass, and show you the dressing room. You can come and go from the show back then.” Roxanne led him over to Jerry. “My friend needs a pass, Jer.”

“Roxy, really?” Jerry gave Peter a once over. “You’ve never been one for groupies.”

“He’s not a groupie,” Roxanne argued. Peter shook his head from behind Roxanne.

“Totally a groupie. Nice to meet you.” He offered his hand to Jerry. Jerry shook it, raising an eyebrow at Roxanne.

“Not a groupie. I’ll grab you that pass.” Jerry flipped through his clipboard and pulled a pass out for Peter, handing it over and then hustling off to do something.

“What did he mean?”

“If you were a groupie, you wouldn’t have shook his hand,” Roxanne informed him. She glanced around and saw that no one was watching and pressed a kiss to Peter’s lips quickly. “See you later.”

The concert went better than Roxanne had anticipated. They were called for three encores and the preliminary tally on the fundraising from merchandise was twice what had been anticipate, Jerry had announced as they came off-stage. The caffeine had finally worn off, and coupled with the intense concert, Roxanne was bagged. She stumbled into the dressing room, forgetting that Peter was waiting for her, and flopped on the couch.

“You look exhausted, Roxanne.” Peter stepped over to the couch, sat her up and began rubbing her back. Roxanne groaned in release.

“33 more dates, Pete. I won’t let you leave if you keep that backrub up,” Roxanne threatened. Peter climbed onto the couch behind her and kept massaging.

“You know the team wouldn’t allow that,” Peter murmured, dropping a kiss on the nape of her neck. “They say I’ve missed you.”

“Have you?”

“Probably,” he admitted. Roxanne laughed.

“And when are you expected back?”

“Eventually.” Peter’s hands stilled on her shoulders and slid forward, wrapping around her. He sighed and leaned against her.

“That’s vague. Tonight? Tomorrow?” Roxanne pushed up and turned in his arms, kneeling into the plush couch cushions. “Next Tuesday?”

Peter answered her with a kiss. He drew her up against his chest and slipped his hands under the spangly silver sequined top Roxanne had worn during her last set. “Long enough, Rox.”

“Then maybe we should move this to the bus, where we have half a chance of some privacy.” Roxanne stepped off the couch and took Peter’s hand, leading him down the hallway toward the loading bay. Roxanne pulled a magnetic flag off the inside of the bus door and put it on the outside before pulling the door shut. Peter peered around at it and started laughing.

“Sleeping? Not really.” He winked and followed her down to her bunk. “Where were we?” He pulled her back into his arms and tilted his head down to kiss her. Roxanne wrapped her arms around his neck and groaned.

“You were giving me an amazing massage,” she reminded him. “Here, I’ll get my show stuff off and you can continue. My back has been killing me the last few days.” She turned away to the drawers beside her bed and pulled out a pair of pajamas. Peter snorted.

“Don’t worry about those. They won’t be on long anyhow,” he teased. Roxanne smirked and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

“I don’t wear anything under my stage clothes, Pete,” she taunted from the bathroom. Peter pulled off his jacket and boots and dropped them in a pile on the floor. Roxanne reappeared and assessed him. “You could lose the shirt and pants too.” He stripped down to his boxers and hopped on the bed beside her, bouncing her slightly. She rolled onto her stomach and cleared her throat.

“Let’s have some more of those magic fingers, Star-Lord,” Roxanne demanded. Peter knelt beside her and dug into the tense muscles of her back and was gratified to hear Roxanne’s moan of pleasure at the massage. He leaned down and kissed her shoulder, watching goosebumps dance across the bare flesh at her neck. Roxanne sighed and settled under his skillful ministrations.

“I liked the song, Rox,” he offered.

“Yeah?”

“The Milano is remarkably warm inside. Just thought I’d confirm that for you,” he teased. Roxanne let out a low chuckle.

“Good to know.” Her voice had grown husky.

“I liked the acoustic version from the radio best,” he continued. “But I need to know, do I count as hot like Thor?”

There was no response from Roxanne, and Peter was ready to be offended when he caught the gentle snore and realized she’d fallen asleep. He pulled up the blankets and curled up next to her to go to sleep.

“I’m sorry,” Roxanne whispered, kissing Peter awake in the low light of pre-dawn.

“You were tired,” Peter grumbled, scrubbing his hand across his face. Roxanne slid closer on the bed and nodded.

“I was. I’m not now.” She dipped her head and nipped at his collarbone. Peter made a noise that Roxanne could only define as a purr and rolled on top of her, capturing her mouth with his own. He slid his hand down to her pajama bottoms and tugged at them. Roxanne shifted her hips, pulling free of the stretchy jersey shorts and wriggling them down her hips. She tugged at Peter’s briefs, struggling to shimmy the elastic down his hips. He broke free from the kiss to take over, kicking them off the foot of the bed. He dropped back between Roxanne’s legs and let out a sigh of contentment. Roxanne bit his lip, crooking her heel around the back of his thigh and tugging him closer.

The sharp staccato of purposeful knocking started at the front of the bus. Peter stilled, like he was a kid caught with his hand in the candy jar. “Who –“

“I don’t care, we’re busy, and I have my sleeping flag up. Everyone on the crew knows you do not disturb me when I’m sleeping,” she grumbled.

“We’re not sleeping,” Peter pointed out.

“I’m not answering the door,” Roxanne shrugged, and pulled his mouth back to hers. She tugged him against her and used his movement to shift her weight and roll on top of him. She sat back, and stared at him. His hair was tousled from sleep, and he had a few days growth of stubble. He looked good in the morning. She leaned back down and kissed him, rocking her hips until he slipped inside her. He groaned into her mouth, and settled his hands at her hips, following along as she rocked her pelvis back and forth.

The banging at the door intensified. He broke the kiss to stare over her shoulder, as if they were going to be interrupted.

“Pete, relax. The door is locked,” Roxanne reassured him. He sat up and rolled her onto her back, pistoning his hips against hers. Roxanne rocked in rhythm with him, letting out a whimper of pleasure as he ground against her roughly.

“Goddamnit, Roxy, I know you’re in there!” It sounded like Jerry. The banging became a cacophony of noise, and Peter slowed down just long enough to lean back and swing the door to the bunk shut and flip the lock. Roxanne pulled him back to her, taking his mouth aggressively with her own.

“Stop getting distracted, Pete,” she growled, tilting her hips and wrapping her legs tightly around his thighs. Peter closed his eyes and sighed, his thrusts getting rougher and quicker. The banging at the door echoed through the room, in syncope to the movements of their bodies. Peter grunted and tightened his grip on her hips, collapsing against her.

“I’m sorry, Rox. I couldn’t concentrate. And you felt really good,” he murmured into her ear, smoothing her hair away from her face as he shifted his weight and rolled to the side. He pressed his lips gently against hers.

“Been at sea too long, sailor?” Roxanne teased.

“Seems like a month is too long where you are concerned. I’ll make it up to you,” he promised.

“Yes, you will.” Roxanne climbed across him and picked his t-shirt off the floor, pulling it over her head. She grabbed a pair of panties out of the drawer and slipped them up over her hips. She moved to smooth her hair, and decided against it, unlatching the door and walking toward the front of the bus. The banging was enough that Peter pulled a pillow over his head. He heard Roxanne unlock the door of the bus and swing it open, and heard her pad back up the steps into the kitchenette. He peered at her from under the pillow, watching her pull a k-cup pod out of the box, and set a cup of coffee brewing.

“Christ Almighty, Roxy, I was banging on that door for ten minutes!” Jerry complained as he climbed the stairs into the bus. “Did you not get my text last night, you’re late for a meeting.”

“You’d better have another one of those nice white cups for me if you’re going to talk to me like that this early in the morning, Jer,” Roxanne snatched the Starbucks cup out of his hand, and took the coffee cup from the k-cup machine. She turned her back on the manager and brought the coffee down to Peter. “Here, you can have my coffee, since Jerry brought me whatever this is.” She put it on the bedside table and headed back down the narrow hall to the kitchenette. About halfway down the short hall, the bus rocked with the footfalls of another person climbing up the short stack of stairs. Roxanne opened the mini-fridge, and bent over, looking for something to eat. Peter watched Jerry look away uncomfortably as his t-shirt slipped up Roxanne’s hips exposing her hot pink panties. The guy at the top of the stairs had no such qualms about Roxanne’s state of undress.

“It’s been a while since I’ve spent quality time with a musician. But this looks promising.” The stranger pulled off his sunglasses and smiled wolfishly at Roxanne’s ass. Roxanne shot up, and turned to face him. The look he gave Roxanne made Peter want to run down the hall and punch him. Roxanne obviously felt the same way, and the crack of her hand connecting with the guy’s face reverberated through the confined space of the bus.

“Who the fuck is this, Jer?” She demanded.

“Roxanne Raintree, meet Tony Stark. Mr. Stark was interested in supporting the foundation.” Jerry dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his temple, masking a cringe. “I don’t suppose he still will be.”

“She’s not the first woman to slap me. Won’t be the last,” Stark shrugged. Roxanne tensed.

“No thanks. We’ve already discussed this, Jerry. We want to foundation to stand on its own, without corporate sponsorship.” Roxanne dismissed Stark and Jerry and went back to the fridge. She didn’t bend as far over as she looked inside it for something to eat. She pulled out a yogurt and slowly pulled the foil off, raising an eyebrow at Jerry. “You can go now.”

“Roxy, I can call you that, right? Roxy, Stark Industries wants to support any initiative that makes the sciences attainable,” Stark started. “And your particular foundation has huge potential to bring in kids that might not otherwise get those opportunities.”

“Yes, I know. That’s why we founded it.” Roxanne rummaged in the kitchenette for a spoon, and leaned against the short counter to eat. She crossed her ankles and pursed her lips as she watched Stark take in the pale length of her legs.

“Stark Industries wants to throw money at you. I’m having a hard time understanding –“

“Stark Industries might have successfully rebranded, but the bands involved in the foundation are really not interested in taking donations from a company that used to make military weapons,” Roxanne interrupted.

“So this granola and flaxseed reputation is legitimate?” Stark scoffed.

“My life isn’t about sound bites, Mr. Stark. I practice what I preach.”

“And you have the freedom to practice that because of sacrifices –“

“Don’t. Don’t go there, Mr. Stark,” Roxanne cut him off. “You don’t get to talk about the sacrifices of the military just because you provided them with weapons.”

“It must be nice to be wealthy enough to refuse donations on principle, but consider who is losing out while you ride your high horse into the sunset, princess.” Stark raised an eyebrow and then looked past her, settling his gaze on Peter, who was laying in the bed, pillow still over his head, blanket barely covering his ass. “I can see you’re busy. Another time.” Stark turned on his heel and walked out. Roxanne took a sip from the coffee she’d stolen from Jerry.

“Well done, Roxy. He was set to donate half a million.” Jerry shook his head and rose to leave.

“We don’t need his money.” Roxanne was adamant.

“Get that groupie out of here, we pull out in thirty minutes.” Jerry stomped down the stairs and slammed the bus door shut. Roxanne walked back to the bed and climbed in beside Peter. Peter groaned and pulled her close for a kiss before sitting up.

“You coming back any time soon?” She asked as he pulled his clothes on. He shrugged.

“I don’t know.” Peter pulled a concert t-shirt out of his pocket and pulled it over his head. He sat down on the edge of the bed and laced up his boots. Roxanne bit the inside of her cheek, trying to be cool with the answer.

“Well, you seem to be able to track down the concert schedule easily enough. And you’ve figured out radio contests,” she paused. Peter laughed.

“Actually, that was Rocket,” he admitted. Roxanne laughed.

“That is awesome. How? You know what, I don’t want to know,” she smiled. “Next time, I’ll make sure we can’t be disturbed.” Peter pushed her back onto the bed and kissed her again.

“I swear, I owe you one.” He murmured. Roxanne bit his lip and smiled.

“We already established that. A big one,” She teased and let go of him.

#Guardians of the Galaxy Fic #guardians of the galaxy fic with OFC #peter quill x ofc

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luckydoogs · 4 years

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8 COMMON MYTHS IN DOG TRAINING

Before I delve into the training methods that work, first I’ll shed some light on commonly held misconceptions about dogs to make sure we’re starting on the same page:

Myth #1: Dogs are domesticated wolves, so you need to establish yourself as pack leader.

Truth: Have you ever heard that the surefire way to be a good dog trainer is to be the “alpha”? I did, years before I became a dog trainer, and even I thought it sounded reasonable at the time: dogs descended from wolves, and wolves supposedly live in hierarchal packs, so it made sense. There’s little to no truth behind this idea. No one is arguing that dogs aren’t descendants of ancient wolves—they certainly are. However, dogs are not wolves, but unique animals predisposed to learn very advanced concepts from human beings. We likely first selectively bred today’s domestic dogs at least fifteen thousand years ago to cohabitate with us, provide companionship, and perform certain tasks such as hunting, herding, or alerting us when a stranger is near. To ignore the human influence in the domestic dog reflects a failure to acknowledge why the modern dog even exists at all. Yet many mainstream dog trainers seem to completely disregard this central point in favor of using methods that undermine the intelligence of our dogs. Also, these trainers are basing their philosophy on an archaic understanding of wolf behavior that has been discredited by researchers who study wolves extensively. In the 1940s, animal behaviorist Rudolph Schenkel found that when wolves are forced into captivity, they fight for top status or what he referred to as the “alpha.” For decades, this concept reigned in the dog training world, and one of the world’s leading wolf experts, L. David Mech, discussed it extensively in his popular 1970 book. However, thirty years later Mech himself completely refuted the “alpha” wolf concept, so much so that he has pleaded with his publisher to stop printing that previous book. He had found, through his extensive research, that the dog training industry was basing their teachings on a highly artificial situation. Yes, when wolves are randomly placed in confinement together, they do fight for resources; however, that happens only when these animals are in a very unnatural environment. “Wolves in the wild—the wolves that our dogs descended from—get to the top of their pack merely by maturing, mating, and producing offspring,” says Mech. “Leadership roles are simply parental roles. The pack is a family social structure, a lot like human families.”

Myth #2: Domination is the only way to get a dog to listen to you.

Truth: Real teaching is about communication, not domination. Our goal when teaching a dog should be not to make a dog do something by forcing her into submission but to make a dog want to do something. Trying to dominate your dog by yelling at her, flipping her on her back in an “alpha roll,” or using certain collars designed to create discomfort or pain will only greatly hinder both your relationship with your pet and the training process. I know this can be confusing because many well-known trainers promote such dominant techniques. However, what we are really communicating to a dog when we rely on these tools is: “If you do something I don’t like— even if it’s something that comes naturally to you, like walking fast or chasing a squirrel—I’m going to make you uncomfortable.” Such training focuses on teaching what a dog shouldn’t do rather than what she should do. Can these methods be effective? If your definition of “effective” is getting mediocre results, then yes, to some extent they can be. I suppose if I thought I’d experience something unpleasant every time I walked a bit too fast, I’d obey too. But there’s a price to pay for this: your training will not be as effective and enjoyable as it could be for both you and your dog, and such tactics could even undermine your dog’s trust. Furthermore, your dog will not behave consistently when you take those special collars off or don’t use forceful methods. When you rely on an external device to get what you want, it’s simply a crude patch designed to combat the unwanted behavior rather than to emphasize good behavior. And when that patch isn’t there, dogs know the difference and often go right back to the unwanted behavior. It’s as though they think, “Oh, I’m not wearing that unpleasant collar now, so I can do whatever I want.” Some people might argue that while positive training is okay for some breeds, other breeds need forceful, punishment-based training because they are aggressive, powerful dogs. Let me respond to that. First, while some dogs may be more challenging or have aggression issues, that’s definitely not specific to breed. As I explained in chapter 1, the whole idea that certain breeds such as Pit Bulls have violent tendencies is completely false—when you hear stories of such dogs attacking other animals or people, it’s usually because either they have been trained to do so by a human or they have more serious underlying issues. Of course, if you have a larger dog, it’s particularly important to make sure she doesn’t lunge on the leash or jump up on people simply because she can cause more harm than, say, a Yorkie, due to her size. But that applies to any larger dog—from a German Shepherd to a Goldendoodle—and has absolutely nothing to do with breed. Positive training works with virtually any dog. In fact, if you do have a dog with aggression issues, studies have shown that using forceful methods will likely make the behaviors worse. For instance, one study in the Journal of Applied Animal Behavior found that confrontational methods such as striking dogs, intimidating them, alpha rolls, and staring them down often led to an aggressive response. “In almost all cases, dogs are aggressive because they are afraid and feel threatened in some way,” explains Meghan Herron, DVM, DACVB, lead author of the study and director of the Behavioral Medicine Clinic at The Ohio State University College of Veterinary Medicine. “When you use confrontational methods, you are just making yourself more threatening and increasing your dog’s motivation to use aggression against you. It’s like fighting fire with fire.” What about the dogs who do seem to reduce their aggressive behaviors in the face of these methods? “Sometimes people can scare their dogs enough that the animals achieve a state of learned helplessness—they just sit and take it, even though they’re exhibiting signs of panic such as an increased heart rate and panting,” Dr. Herron explains. “Some of these dogs eventually lose this inhibition and their aggression comes back much worse than before, as though they’ve snapped. And for those who don’t, they remain shut down and often live in a state of perpetual fear.” I’d hope that anyone who thinks this is acceptable would strongly reconsider the way they approach teaching dogs.

Myth #3: Only puppies can learn new things.

Truth: Apparently this line of thinking has been around a long time: In 1534, an Englishman named John Fitzherbert wrote in The Boke of Husbandry, “The dog must learn it when he is a whelp, or else it will not be: for it is hard to make an old dog stop.”Today’s translation: “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” I know that clichés often have a good bit of truth to them, but that’s definitely not the case with this one. I have worked with thousands of dogs, and I can attest that you can most certainly teach dogs of all ages just about anything. More than half the dogs I’ve worked with in my career were adult dogs, not puppies. I even had a dog in one of my basic training classes who was fourteen years old—he did wonderfully and passed with flying colors. And to this day, I enjoy teaching new concepts to my own dogs, who are all in double digits now. In fact, I recently taught Alpha Centauri to run outside, pick up a package from my front yard, and bring it back into the house. He doesn’t mind the rain as I do! Bottom line: Dogs simply love to learn at all ages, and you should always continue teaching them new tricks and concepts to keep them mentally stimulated. No offense to Mr. Fitzherbert, but don’t buy into this old idea for a second!

Myth #4: Positive training means never disciplining your dog.

Truth: Just because you’re not forcing your dog into submission doesn’t mean you’re going to let her walk all over you. Positive training does include consequences for unwanted behaviors, but it’s very different from the aggressive methods of traditional trainers. I have no problem with communicating that you do not like something your dog does. If you catch your dog getting into the garbage, telling her “No, don’t do that” in a calm tone, and then removing access to the trash is very logical to me. Or, in the case of jumping on guests, removal from the environment for a few minutes in a good time-out can be very effective, too. The problem comes when you start saying “No!” a lot more often than you say “Yes.” If this is the case, then you are reacting to your dog’s actions rather than taking the appropriate initiative to teach her how you’d like her to behave. The goal is to show your dog the behaviors you do like so the emphasis is more on the positive. So after you remove the garbage and get your dog to sit and focus her attention on you, then reward the positive behavior. Follow through and go that extra mile! When you learn to snap into training mode and follow through like this, you’ll start to see a dramatic acceleration in your results. Do I physically correct a dog from time to time? You bet I do, but only in rare circumstances. Here are the criteria I apply when putting my hands on a dog or forcing her to do something: Would I correct a three-year-old child in the manner I’m about to correct this dog? If not, then I don’t do it. Here’s an example: Let’s suppose I’m standing on a street corner with my dog on a leash sitting next to me. Suddenly, there’s a distraction across the street and my dog attempts to run into the street toward it. I certainly will restrain my dog and walk away from the distraction abruptly, in the same way, that I would grab a child’s hand and pull her away from something that put her in harm’s way. By definition, this is physical correction. However, I limit physical corrections to when I’m preventing my dog from potentially being injured or causing harm to another being. Keep in mind, however, that a correction like the one I just described is a far cry from a restrictive, aggressive pop with a metal collar around a dog’s throat. There’s really no comparison. Lastly, keep in mind that even the physical correction I just described is not ideal. As you’ll learn throughout this book, when you effectively prepare your dog for certain situations, then for the most part no physical correction will ever be necessary.

Myth #5: Once you use treats, your dog will never listen without them.

Truth: You can wean off treats. However, people often expect that once their dog has demonstrated she understands a particular concept or trick with a treat, she should immediately start doing it without one all the time. That usually doesn’t work. If your dog refuses to do something without a treat, this likely means you have attempted to cut treats out of the equation too early and your dog doesn’t get it yet. Your dog will certainly learn to listen without treats, but you’ll probably need to use them longer than you intuitively might think, possibly up to six months after she first learns a behavior. However, I’m talking about your dog knowing a skill completely. For her to do that, she’ll need a lot of repetition and have to practice under various circumstances. For instance, say your dog sits for you when you are home alone even if you don’t give her a treat; however, when you take her to a park where there are lots of distractions, she doesn’t. That’s because dogs don’t generalize well. The single biggest thing you can do to throw your dog off is to change her environment or other variables. When you do, you’ll need to reteach her that skill or trick in the new environment. Using a lot of treats or other rewards with sincere encouragement simply motivates your dog to do the behavior under a variety of circumstances those first several months, which is more important than insisting she does it without a treat right away. Also, once you think your dog knows a skill completely, don’t just cut out the treats cold turkey. Instead, I recommend following the principle of intermittent reinforcement. You might notice that after first teaching your dog something new, a time when you should reward heavily, that you might be able to get a “free one” without treating. That’s because you are keeping your dog guessing—dogs excel when you randomly reward, and the goal is to make sure yours can’t decipher a pattern—so you avoid a pattern by mixing it up. Perhaps give a treat for a particular behavior, then skip the treat the next two times your dog does it, and then treat three times in a row. People may argue that using treats is bribery, but I promise you it’s not. Remember, one of the most important elements of my training program is learning how to communicate with your dog, and treats will help you do just that. They are a catalyst that helps keep your pet’s attention on you and encourages her by letting her know she’s on the right track. On top of that, researchers who have studied dogs’ brains found that while food does motivate dogs, they are also greatly influenced by social interactions with humans.5 I couldn’t agree more! While you still need the treats at first to ingrain the particular behavior you’re looking for, combining that with lots of love and genuine sincerity will only encourage your dog further. So my goal isn’t to get my dogs to sit when I ask them only because they might get a treat. I want them sitting because they are listening to me, respecting me, enjoying my attention, and trusting that I have their best interests at heart.

Myth #6: Behaviors such as jumping indicate that your dog is trying to control you.

Truth: This one gets me! Your dog is not attempting to initiate a coup when she jumps on you after you return from work. Look at her body language. Her ears are probably pinned back, her tail is wagging, and if she could talk, she’d probably say, “I missed you so much! Let’s go do stuff together!” I call this enthusiasm and joy, and I’m not sure how this is so commonly confused with dog-to-human dominance. When dogs exhibit behaviors such as tugging on the leash or jumping on guests, it’s not because they are trying to assert dominance as part of their overall strategy aimed at achieving a higher status in the family. Also, doing things such as letting your dog through the doorway first, allowing her on your bed, and feeding her before you eat is certainly not going to make her think she’s now in control. These are ideas based purely on myths. So what are behaviors such as excessive jumping or leash lunging all about? I know that when dogs act out it almost always has to do with a lack of the kind of exercise that engages both the mind and body, like fetch or other dog sports. Here’s an example: I once worked with a dog named Lafitte, a very energetic dog who had the unusual habit of, well, lunging at and attacking full-size trees. Lafitte is no small dog, either, and when he did this it was a sight to see. I know that many trainers would simply say that Lafitte is a dominant dog, slap a choke chain on him, and yank away until he was defeated and exhausted. However, I figured Lafitte was a dog with a lot of pent-up energy who didn’t have a regular outlet to release it. While his primary person, Rachel, certainly tried, it was hard to keep up with his demanding needs all of the time. Lafitte didn’t care about achieving dominance; he just wanted to do something, anything! Even if it meant that the best way to release some energy was to use the closest tree as a toy. Sure enough, after spending some time with him, in a single training session I was able to teach Lafitte the concept of not attacking trees. Rachel also started playing with him on a more regular basis and has reported that his behavior has improved greatly. I elaborate on the specific issue of leash pulling, on this page, chapter 7, but the bigger point here is that I taught Lafitte without trying to dominate him or cause him discomfort. I simply took the time to first understand why he was behaving in a certain way and then took steps to preempt that behavior by communicating in a way that encouraged him to listen to me.

Myth #7: Dogs can’t understand that much, so speak in very simple terms.

Truth: This is one of my biggest pet peeves. Most trainers advise you to keep your phrasing very simple and limit your requests to one word at a time. They say that dogs can’t understand all that much, so the fewer words you use with your dog, the better. There’s certainly validity to this when introducing a brand-new concept like “sit,” but there’s nothing wrong with evolving your language after the first few weeks of basic training. Saying “Sit down please,” “Have a seat,” or whatever else you want to say to your dog can help broaden her vocabulary. I love being able to interact with my dogs by using everyday speech. Several studies have clearly shown that dogs can have a huge vocabulary, comparable to a toddler’s. Stanley Coren, PhD, a leading expert in canine intelligence and author of How to Speak Dog: Mastering the Art of HumanDog Communication, among other titles, has found that the average dog can learn at least 165 words. Highly intelligent dogs can learn 250 words, or even considerably more. One Border Collie named Chaser holds the current known record, at more than one thousand words, and she most certainly understands some sentences and grammatical semantics.6 I know she’s an outlier, but her story shows that dogs are a lot more capable than most people think they are. I can verify that dogs can understand simple sentences, provided you speak this way often. That’s not to say that you shouldn’t use one-word requests such as “sit” and “stay.” But you don’t have to always limit your phrases to one word at a time. You also don’t have to worry that you are going to confuse your dog—they understand slight nuances in language and context just as we do. My dogs very clearly know the difference between “let go” and “let’s go.” Also, years ago when I used to perform with my dogs in stunt dog shows, I would say “Down please” to tell them to get off a platform they were standing on. This did not confuse them when I’d later ask them to lie down by saying, yet again, “Down please.” There’s also no need to dumb down your grammar. If your dog is barking, for instance, you can abandon phrases such as “No bark!” Instead, use proper grammar by saying “Stop barking please,” and teach your dog your language as you would teach a young child. Feel free to speak in a way that comes naturally. You’ll be shocked by what your dog can understand.

Myth #8: You can teach your dog only one thing at a time.

Truth: Dogs are remarkably intelligent and capable of “walking and chewing gum at the same time.” Just like humans, your dog can process many concepts simultaneously. Of course, I’m not saying to go crazy here and expect your dog to master ten tricks or skills in one day. There’s a fine line between covering multiple concepts and confusing your dog. You’ll have to find that line with your dog, but a general rule of thumb is between two and four simple tasks at a time. As for me, I like to introduce the concepts of “sit,” “down,” “up,” and “stand” in the same training session with most dogs That’s four things! You are not only encouraging your dog to multitask mentally, which is great exercise for her brain, but also planting the seeds for more intermediate or advanced skills down the road that require more than one step. Most importantly, don’t think you have to completely perfect a concept before moving on to the next one. Many people assume they need to, say, master housetraining before they move on to basic training, as though it’s sequential. Again, I want to make sure that this is not your mind-set. While you’re housetraining your dog, you should work on other basic skills. Dogs want to work with humans, and by encouraging your dog to learn lots of things, you’re only speeding up her success.

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inkinghubris · 4 years

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Ep. 50: Can You Make a Living Writing Blog Posts?

Episode 50: Can You Make a Living Writing Blog Posts?

Can you make a living writing blog posts? The answer is yes. The longer answer is explained in this article where I explain to you how you can quickly and easily earn over $5000 per month writing simple blog posts. You can listen to the episode right here. The transcription is below the player. Feel free to add your comments using the comment section below.

Episode # Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using a combination of speech recognition software and humans, as such, it may contain errors. Please, double-check the audio file before quoting anything from this page. Introduction 00:00 Hi kids! For episode 50 I want to return to the copywriting side for a while. As the last few weeks we have covered a lot of personal items for writing, I want to focus more on a specific writing type. Today I will answer the question "Can I make a living writing blog posts?" The answer may surprise you. Hang tight, I'll be right back. 00:00 00:00 And I am back, did you miss me? Let's get started. Ghostwriting, and blog or article writing in particular, is like the red-headed step child of the copywriting umbrella. Unlike the copywriters that work on advertorials, marketing, or introducing new products through white papers, blog writers are more or less, left in the ball pit at the burger joint when all the other kids are secured safely in the car to go home.

Earn money writing blog posts working from home. 00:00 What you may not realize, though, is that these writers are in high demand, the entry requirements are low and there is a hell of a lot of money to made out there. If you have command of the English language, basic grammar and are half-way decent at stringing words together, you can earn quite a living writing blog posts. How do You Start? 00:00 So how is this done? What is the earning potential for blog writers? Where do I go to get a client or a gig? I can hear you, eager and willing. But let's slow down a bit. Lets' talk about what you can expect, first. 00:00 If you are new to the industry, or have yet to be paid for your writing, sit down and pay attention. Even if you don't have a college degree, you can earn over $5000 per month writing articles and blog posts for others. Let me show you how. The first step is understanding. You need to understand what you are getting into, what your expectation level needs to be and you need to understand there is no glory here. Know What Blog Writing Entails 00:00 What you are getting into is a long day of writing, turning into long weeks of writing, followed by even more time finding writing gigs. It is a job, so get those pipe dreams of opening your laptop for an hour a day while you sip margarita's at the beach out of your head. If you want to earn the money, you have to do the work. Believe me, there will be enough time for beach front margarita's later. 00:00 Your expectation levels also need to be lowered. You won't be writing an article for Time magazine or The Wall Street Journal. Instead, you will be writing a 2000 word article on effective measures to remove bed bug poop from bed sheets. I know. I wrote that article. Believe me, there is no glory or glamour when you are writing a bed bug series of articles. I still got to take my paycheck to the bank though, so I have no regrets. Maybe a few nightmares, but no regrets. 00:00 The point is, if you want to earn the cash, you have to just suck it up and do the work. As far as your expectations go, you need to decide how much time and devotion you have to the craft. If this is a once in a while thing where you want to do an article or two per month between your yoga classes and that trip to the outlet mall, that is fine. However, if you want to work from home, at your computer and not have to worry about name tags, angry bosses and uniforms, then you are going to put in the work. Let's see the Process 00:00 I will use a monthly income average of $3000. While the earning potential for blog writers can be much higher, I think setting your goals for $3000 a month is a good place to start. You may find that you surpass this goal quickly. Others may find it takes a bit of time. As with anything else in life, there is an element of luck built in. For example, when I first started, I made a goal of earning $1000 a month, which equaled my then current monthly income from my shitty retail job. I ended up making $1000 my first week. It can happen, I've done it. 00:00 I also put in the work. Instead of working 8 hours per day behind a cash register, I was working 10 to 12 hours a day behind my computer. While that may sound like a lot, I also got to take breaks whenever I wanted, go for a walk, or go to the store for more Doritos. I didn't always wear pants. There are a lot of creature comforts you are afforded when you work from home for yourself. As long as you are diligent. The Hiring Process

Getting your first blog posts writing gig isn't that difficult. 00:00 You need to start by understanding how the process works. So, let me cover that quickly. You find a potential client, usually through a job posting or a hiring board. You don't get hired on the spot. Usually the client has a lot of applications to go through and is looking for more than one writer. Your entry sits on the pile with the others waiting to be read over. If you make the cut, about a week (sometimes two weeks) later you get a response asking you to write a test piece. 00:00 A test piece is generally an article the client needs written, that is done for a lower fee and expected a quick turn around. So instead of a 2000 word article, you may be asked to write a 500 word piece at half the hiring cost. I will caution you to be wary of clients asking you to write for them for free before you get the job. Always get paid for your work, even during the hiring process. Even if it is half cost, you don't work for free. There are enough paying jobs out there, you don't need to waste your time doing things without being compensated. 00:00 That soapbox speech is for another time. Back to getting hired. So you get the offer and write the test piece. You turn it in and you get paid for it. Then, you wait, again. A few days later the client decides that your writing will do and offers you the gig. You accept and off you go. Writing Blog Posts as a Beginner 00:00 Now, when you first start off, you will most likely be working at a per word pricing structure. Depending on the client, the type of writing you are doing and how much work they have for you, this can range from a few cents per word to a dollar per word. Don't get your hopes up though, the average price just starting out is about 3 or 4 cents per word. However, even at 3 center per word, a 2000 word article earns you $60 bucks. This isn't a lot, but hey, it only took you 4 or 5 hours to do, which translates into about 20 bucks per hour. 00:00 If you don't want to work in your underwear and earn 20 bucks an hour without the need for a webcam, I don't know what to tell you. Back to the expectations. The articles you get at this stage will most likely be either informative or comparative. This means you write article with headlines like "How to wash the engine block of your car." or "Which robot vacuum is the best?" 00:00 They aren't glorious articles, the styles are highly structured and for the most part, you don't get a lot of say in what the article layout, headings and sub headings will be. The client has a niche site where they are trying to sell shit. Your job is to write an article to explain or detail how awesome that particular product or service is. If you do your job well, you will earn $60 bucks in your pocket. Which is abut how much your client will make for every visitor that clicks a link on their site. Yeah, you lose, but you can't think of it like that. Just Do Your Job 00:00 If you just shut up and do the work you agreed to do and don't worry about what other people are earning or making off of your work, you will be much better off. Every article you write makes you a better writer. The more words you can put down, the better those words will end up being. Believe me. As a test, the first paid article you do, save it. Download it or print it out and put it away. Come back in a year with the last article you wrote and look at the two. I bet you will want to throw up a little bit after reading the first one again. 00:00 Finally, for your expectations, you need to understand how much you will work to earn that $3000 per month. If you are earning $50 to $60 per article, then you will need to write 50 to 60 articles a month. To break it down for you, that is 100,000 words written, per month. 25,000 words per week. If you plan for a 5-day work week, that is 5,000 words per day. It Isn't For Everyone

In the beginning you will work more, for less. That will soon change 00:00 It is a lot of work. It takes a lot of time to research the information, get the specs on the products, build your tables and write paragraphs. As you get used to the process, though, you will get faster. Even with my ADD and other issues, I can easily knock out 2000 words in about two hours. If I needed to write 5,000 words per day, 5 days a week, that means I am done by lunch and still earning $3000 a month. It can be done. You just need to be diligent. 00:00 Assuming, though, that you are like me, these articles will get old quickly. A way to make them better? Earn more for them. I would much rather write a 2000 word article explaining how to wash a car when I am getting paid 200 bucks to do so, instead of $60. Wouldn't you? 00:00 In time, you can. One of the best ways to do this is to make long-term clients. Instead of applying for a job, writing an article or two and then moving to the next job posting, try to find clients with months or years worth of work. They aren't as rare as you may think. After a couple of months turning in high-quality articles and not missing deadlines (that is important, by the way, always be on time!), then you get to start making demands. How to Earn More For the Same Amount of Work 00:00 You can ask for a raise, but you aren't likely to get it. Instead, you want to make the process easier for the client. My go-to answer is to ask to be put on a retainer. 00:00 A retainer? Like a lawyer? Exactly like that. Send an email to your client and explain the situation. Remind them how tedious is it to count the words and do the math to make sure you get paid for the exact penny. Wouldn't it be much easier to just offer a flat rate per article? Then we can dismiss this silly word counting portion and just move forward? 00:00 In most situations, the client will agree. Anything you can do to make their end easier, the more rewarded you will be. Remember, that for every article you turn in, that client is making 10 times what they paid you for it. It is easy enough for the valuable writer to stay happy and turning in those high-quality articles. If your words are valuable enough, the client will gladly offer you a larger cut of those profits. They know you will continue to earn them 10 times the value (or more) and you get to earn more money, too. Establish a Flat Rate, Then go for the Jugular 00:00 Once you have a flat rate established, say $150 per article, you essentially asked for a raise from 3 cents per word to 8 cents per word. And if you have been keeping up, that is well above the industry standard for these articles. So, you continue this for another couple of months. hen you send your client another email. 00:00 Look boss, we have a good thing going here. Wouldn't it be easier on you to send me the article briefs you need written each month all at once? How about we go on retainer. You pay me $3000 on the first of the month, send over 12 articles and I will write them up over the next four weeks and send them back to you. We don't need to have an email back and forth every other day to submit the articles and wait for a new brief and repeat every day. Your time is valuable, and the less time you spend having to worry about these articles, the easier it is on everyone. 00:00 The first thing the client is going to do is look at how much they currently pay you. Over the course of the last few months you haven't missed any deadlines, you provide high quality articles and you are already earning about $3000 per month. It sounds like a good deal at that point. Pay you once, which saves them fees, get you out of their hair so they can focus on other things. After a couple of days you will be surprised at the response. I have asked each of my long term clients to be put on retainer after proving my worth. I have never been turned down. It's Better if it Seems Like Their Idea 00:00 As long as you make it sound like a convenience thing, it is easier for them, better for them, you are less likely to be turned down. But did you notice what we did? We offered our current monthly rate for 12 articles. When we got hired a few months back we were earning $60 per article working for 3 cents a word. Then we moved to a flat rate of $150 per article, or 8 cents per word. Now, instead of working 5 days a week writing 5000 words per day, we are earning $250 per article for 12 articles. $3000 a month and you now work 12 days a month (assuming you can write an article per day).

You know what time it is now. 00:00 I don't know about you, but I would much rather work a 3-day work week and earn the same amount of money as I did when I was working 5 or 6 days a week. It's a no-brainer. And for those wondering about the math, you are now averaging between $45 and $60 per hour, depending on how fast you can finish an article. In Conclusion 00:00 Now you have a couple of options. You are working 3-days per week, earning $3000 a month. That is a livable wage. You also have 2 or 3 days per week for more work. Even with one more client, going through the same process, you can double your income. Go back to working 5 days per week with 2 long-term clients instead of just one, and you are making $4500 to $6000 per month. Every month. For writing a blog post. 00:00 I will end this episode with a question for you. In a year from now, do you want to be wondering where you could be or what you could be doing, or do you want to be ghostwriting articles and earning over $5000 a month? I'm pretty sure I know what you will answer. 00:00 Until next week, kids. Have fun; write words. 00:00 Read the full article

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douchebagbrainwaves · 6 years

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WHAT YOU TALK TO DETECT BIAS

It has sometimes been said that Lisp should use first and rest means 50% more typing. Now we can recognize this as something hackers already know to avoid: premature optimization. What will they build next? They're not what you might think.1 Programming languages, especially, don't get redesigned enough. Or at least discard any code you wrote while still employed and start over. It's what a startup buys you is time. Instead of quietly switching to another field, he made a fuss, from inside. This is now starting to happen, and I think expert hackers might be able to enjoy them in peace.

It started decades ago, dominated by a few big winners. But I tried to read Plato and Aristotle were encouraged in this by progress in math. I would say that this has happened to. The Metaphysics is mostly a failed experiment.2 How long do they expect it to be very valuable to YC. Getting money from an actual VC firm is a bigger deal than getting money from angels. At least, he was before he became a professor at MIT. She can't do it; she just shuts down.

There are more digressions at the start, at least, a thesis was a position one took and the dissertation was the argument by which one defended it. And the big danger of getting addicted to fundraising. Since I couldn't bear the thought of programming in another language this was 1995, remember, when another language meant C the only option seemed to be the next Yahoo. Didn't it get boring when you got to be about 15? So in addition to the usual clauses about owning your ideas, you also can't be a coincidence. When you offer x percent of your company in subsequent rounds.3 There are many analogies between fundraising and dating, and this gives you an edge to understand the way Newton's Principia is, but the companies on either side, like Carnegie's steelworks, which made the rails, and Standard Oil, which used railroads to get oil to the East Coast, where it would really be an uphill battle.4 But even if you didn't know about will pop up early on.5 But because the Soviet Union didn't have a computer industry, it remained for them a theory; they didn't have the smoothness of a good effort. And it is not merely the curse of Y Combinator before they hired their first employee.6 And so we changed direction to focus on your least expensive plan. If I were going to grow into a big one.

I'm still not entirely sure.7 Once you get big in users or employees it gets hard to change your product. Prose can be rewritten over and over until you're happy with it. Be profitable if you can. It might be a great thing. IBM mainframes. Startups are increasingly raising money on these sites once you can say you've already raised some from well-known investors.8 But because he's sitting astride it, he seems to have begun in China, where starting in 587 candidates for the imperial civil service exams took years, as prep school does today. After all, the average public high school student gets zero exposure to his artistic heritage.9

This kind of metric would allow us to compare different languages, but that would be a net win. I think will be an increasingly important role in companies, and that will get last place in line. Just hang around a lot and gradually start doing things for them. Get a version 1. Even a lot of people doing things that don't scale, or by making the early employees suddenly rich. When an investor tells you I want to know what the relative advantages of young founders. Reading P. And when you discover you've let the price get set too high to close all the money change hands at the closing.10 The ball you need to get yourself in a situation with measurement and leverage. That wasn't the intention of the legislators who wrote it.11 Not spend it, that's what you'll naturally tend to do this.12 For example, they'll almost always start with a promising question and get nowhere.

I thought it was preposterous to claim that a couple thousand lines of code. In 1800, people could not see as readily as we can that a great many patents on mechanical objects were really patents on the algorithms they embodied. An early stage startup. An essay is something you want to be able to tell investors something like: we can make it harder to become profitable, and perhaps even worse, it makes you more rigid, because the company would go out of their way to ensure their money isn't wasted. The stock of a company that might go away, as so many programming languages do. If something that seems like what startups do.13 If you want to have a meeting about it. Design, as Matz has said, should follow the principle of least surprise. And though starting a startup, your initial valuation or valuation cap will be set by the deal you make with the first investor who commits as low a price as they need to do to get into college, for example, you'll be instantly regarded by everyone as a summer job writing software, I had to go through the motions of starting a startup is more than you'd endure in an ordinary working life. It's isomorphic to the very successful technique of letting people pay in installments: instead of frightening them with a high upfront price, you tell them the best way to get fast code is to have a book about it.

And for the same reason: their performance can be measured in the gross of the movie. So while ideas don't have to get the first deal. Can a language compel programmers to write code that's short in elements at the expense of overall readability?14 They're perfectly justified: the majority of hot new whatevers do turn out to be the measure of success for startups another classic noob mistake, they always want to know what the tricks are for convincing investors. After all those years you get used to the idea of getting rich translates into buying Ferraris, or being admired. You'd negotiate the terms with one lead investor, and then fix it immediately, while you were on the phone with her.15 But that fast growth means investors can't wait around.16

Or more precisely, in Trevor's office.17 Great things happen when a group of employees go out to dinner together, talk over ideas, and then at every decision point, take the harder choice. As anyone who has tried to optimize software knows, the important thing, why does everyone talk about making money? So I don't really blame Amazon for applying for the one-click patent. Many of the interesting applications written in other languages. Inexperience there doesn't make you unattractive. I was in school.

Notes

That's probably true of the causes of poverty I just wasn't willing to be closing, not all equal, and there are before the name Homer, to mean starting a startup, both of which you want to trick a pointy-haired boss into letting him play. And frankly even these companies when you have to sweat whether startups have over established companies can't compete on price, they did it. Acquirers can be times when what you're working on what you build this?

Incidentally, this is not whether it's good, but Javascript now works. A scientist isn't committed to is following the evidence wherever it leads. I call it ambient thought. In practice you can work out.

You won't hire all those people show up and you can do is assemble components designed and manufactured by someone else start those startups. Its retail price is about 220,000 legitimate emails.

Now we don't use code written while you were going to drunken parties. Does anyone really think we're so useless that in the startup isn't getting market price for you. 03%.

Math is the most important factor in the sense of the founders gained from running Kazaa helped ensure the success of their portfolio companies.

Probably the reason the dictionaries are wrong is that the probabilities of features i. This phenomenon may account for a public company not to. Till then they had to.

Mozilla is open-source projects now that VCs play such games, books, newspapers, or a funding round usually reflects some other contribution by the government.

Vii.

If you look at what adults told children in the 70s, moving to Monaco would only give you more than their competitors, who probably knows more about hunter gatherers I strongly recommend Elizabeth Marshall Thomas's The Harmless People and The CRM114 Discriminator. Which implies a surprising but apparently unimportant, like the outdoors? But if A supports, say, of course. Many will consent to b rather than geography.

Nor do we draw the line that philosophy is nonsense. 7x a year of focused work plus caring a lot better to read stories. How much more depends on a desert island, hunting and gathering fruit. Wufoo was based in Tampa and they have a better story for an investor or acquirer will assume the worst.

After a bruising fight he escaped with a walrus mustache and a few years. Again, hard to say they bear no blame for any particular truths you'll learn. There are situations in which case this behavior at least wouldn't be able to formalize a small amount, or working in middle management at a time. And it's particularly damaging when these investors flake, because what they're capable of.

Most computer/software startups are often compared to what used to say incendiary things, which merchants used to say now.

At the time they're fifteen the kids are probably not far from the formula. Within an hour just to go deeper into the intellectual sounding theory behind it. It's a strange task to write it all yourself. So if it's convertible debt, but which didn't taste very good job.

Or rather indignant; that's the main emotion I've observed; but it is the extent we see incumbents suppressing competitors via regulations or patent suits, we found they used FreeBSD and stored their data in files too. If that were the people working for me do more with less, then invest in a series. The closest we got to see the apples, they have to sweat whether startups have over you could probably be worth starting one that had been campaigning for the sledgehammer; if they don't make users register to get them to stay around, but for the firm in the usual standards for truth. And while they think the reason the founders don't have a bogus political agenda or are feebly executed.

Learning for Text Categorization.

There is a great hacker. If it's 90%, you'd ultimately be a good nerd, rather than given by other Lisp features like lexical closures and rest parameters.

Until recently even governments sometimes didn't grasp the distinction between the initial plan and what not to pay the bills so you could only get in the future, and this is the following scenario. The Industrial Revolution happen earlier? Photo by Alex Lewin.

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teejaydeetrip · 7 years

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A Bandaged Left Hand

I had an extremely vivid dream last night in which I gave myself a vasectomy with a pair of scissors and some extremely small plastic pegs. I remember the skin of my ball sack felt like plastic or polyester and there was no blood. At some point the stitching came undone and I had not taken the pegs out and I ran around the house trying to find some kind of tool to fix it. I was worried mostly about infection. I can’t remember how it started and I don’t think it ended on any proper note on account of a loud truck rumbling past my window and waking me up. The first thing I did was check my balls. The second thing I did was breathe a sigh of releif, and the third thing I did was fall asleep again, because it was only 11.30am and I had been up late the night before.

Being awake at night in Australia is tormenting. Nobody is awake after 1am and nobody is really up for chatting after 12. I don’t think anybody was in Japan either, but at least I had drive there. On the rare night that I wasn’t singing karaoke, or trading stories with other travellers, I was driven. I had things to write. I had things to say. I learned Japanese or sketched ideas. I watched movies in little booths on futons in internet cafes and drank ramen and lay back, contented that the moment I wanted to, I could walk outside into the bright shining lights of 3am in Osaka. Are there many places that bright at 3am in other parts of the world? I hear New York is pretty lively.

Here, even in the trendy parts of Sydney, I’d be lucky to find a service station. Here, I watch Netflix on autopilot. I just watched the second season of The Man In The High Castle, on complete autopilot. I barely registered it at all. It’s a good show, but not at the same time. It’s intensely boring, yet utterly compelling at the same time. TV shows take up too much time. I need to learn to write more. To use this diary.

I haven’t written in days. What have I missed? I don’t think I’ve written yet about The Dove and Olive. This bar hired me as a bartender. I applied for a bartender position, and trialled as a bartender, yet when I started, they put me on the floor. My job is not to pour beers, but to deliver schnitzels and steaks to baby boomers for 5 hours a night, then clean the shitty gross plates up and gather their shitty gross napkins and bin their shitty gross leftovers. I made it known to some of my co-workers. They told me that is just the way it is here when you start. Then others added that that is just the way it is for guys in general. Floor staff have to change the kegs over and girls are too weak for that, apparently.

There are like 7 or 8 girls tending bar here, meaning most nights will have me on the floor. I was not happy with this and I made it known. I didn’t say to the managers what I wanted to say; that any place with an initiation process is not the kind of place that I work at, or that I came here to be a bartender, not a fucking waiter. But I made I certainly didn’t have a smile on me when I had to do these. Every day I started I would walk behind the bar and start pouring beers until someone said “Hey aren’t you on the floor today?” to which I would respond, “I don’t know, am I?”. On Friday, the Manager On Duty didn’t know how to answer me, and just let me pour beers. I don’t know if I was supposed to be on the floor or if he was just shy, It was St Paddy’s day. Pouring Guiness is a bitch. I dropped a pint glass while trying to hang it up and tried to catch it but ended up just slamming it down even harder onto a bench. It shattered and the shards cut my pointer and index finger.

The licensee emailed me on Saturday, after working 3 shifts. She had gotten the hint. It had been passed up the chain of command from the MOD to the DM to the licensee. She asked me if I was comfortable and I checked the Sydney Bartender Exchange group on Facebook and found an ad for a cocktail bartender in Redfern and messaged him asking for the position.

He messaged back 3 hours later to ask if I wanted to come in for a trial shift on that evening.

I emailed the licensee back at the Dove and Olive telling her I wasn’t happy with the way things were at the ol’ Dolive and that I would be happy to finish the shifts I had been rostered on for next week, but that was it. It was all very amicable. She thanked me for my time and I thanked her for hers and we agreed I’d finish next week, then I went and got drunk with Nigel, my old lecturer from uni.

I haven’t seen Nigel in 5 years. Kat and I, both students of his, had emailed him from Japan, when we met up and had a drink over there. He spent some time living and working in Japan and constantly joked about how hot Japanese girls are. He was the perfect sleazy old man charming rogue stereotype, only with real experience in the music industry and genuinely funny things to say. I told Kat and Nigel to meet me at Goro’s.

I drank a lot the night before, and was early. My eyes were pounding in the back of my head and I had a sharp fuzzy feeling scratching at the back of my head. A slight pounding headache. Goro’s was shut. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything except smoke and wait. Nigel and Kat arrive eventually, and we decide to walk to El Loco, a Mexican themed place that used to be The Excelsior. It’s only a few minutes around the corner. You can’t smoke in the outside tables because they serve food there but nobody is eating, so we do anyway.

Kat tells us about her time in London and I tell them about my time in Japan and Germany and Nigel tells us about his time at the uni, where his employment is tenuous at best, and he tells us about how he hates Germany because he got into lots of trouble there and spent some time in German prison. His story was the kind of thing you can see in your head as a movie. Nigel in a leather jacket in the 80′s, careening across Europe like a flaming satellite crashing back down to earth, bringing with it information gleaned from the void. 3 day benders without leaving the same bar in Spain, dangerous meetings with dangerous men in dangerous alleys in Germany, snuff film screenings in warehouses in Amsterdam.

Before it’s all over, we have had 4 or 5 jugs of beer and a full packet of cigarettes in the space of 2 and a half hours and my spiky hangover has been replaced by a groggy hair-of-the-dog hangover and I need to go pretend to be a cocktail bartender in Redfern. I hug the both of them goodbye and we promise to do this again sometime soon.

Moya’s Juniper Lounge. That’s the name of the place. It’s a small bar in Redfern specialising in gin and gin cocktails. On the way, I swing by Henry and Amanda’s place to borrow a black button up shirt. Henry only has two black button up shirts. One has a floral print and the other is a tuxedo shirt. I go with the tuxedo shirt.

The owner, Charlie, sits me down the moment I get in. I apologise for the tuxedo shirt, it was the only one I could get at late notice. He says that’s fine. He gives me the run down. The place sticks to gin classics and sours. He has like 200 different kinds of gin and a handful of whiskeys. Charlie asks about my experience. I answer. He asks me what my availabilities are like and what kind of work I am looking for. I answer. I pretty much have the job interview before the trial, which is a good sign. He introduces me to Nick, the other bartender, here from The Wild Rover, a whiskey bar in Surry Hills. A gangly kid that doesn’t look a day over 17. Nice kid, but a bit standoff-ish.

I fumble my way through conversation with the two of them whilst nobody comes in at all for an hour. A small group come in and I make my second ever Martini. The guy likes it so much that all his friends ask for one two.

So my conversation skills aren’t so great while I feel this whacked out, but I have made the best martini this group has ever had, so at least my martini game is strong. They make them vintage style here. Charlie says he wants his bar to look and feel like it came straight out of the 1950′s. All the stuff you usually have in speed rails is on a table behind the bar, the furniture are all antiques or rescued from Charlies grandparents farm, music from the 30′s, 40′s and 50′s plays through the PA. and the martini’s are made with: -60ml Tanqueray gin -20ml Dry vermouth -2 Dashes orange bitters -1 Olive

We have no other customers until 9.30pm, when about 6 groups of people all mill in seemingly at once. We are chocked. I pump out Negroni’s and Martini’s and Aviation’s and Charlie Chaplin’s with relative ease. I get stuck on the Clover Club. It’s a sour whose ingrediants have escaped my mind, so I’ll have to list next time. The important thing to note here is that I have never worked a cocktail bar that didn’t have it’s egg white’s kept in a squeeze bottle, pre-cracked by whoever does that. I drop the egg yellow into the first mix by accident and ditch the whole mix. On the second attempt, I put the ice in the wrong side of the shaker, and attempt to put the other side, with is mix on top of the one with the ice, spilling the whole mix all over the prep station. On the third attempt, we have run out of squeezed lemons. so I begin to cut up a lemon and slice my thumb open and start bleeding everywhere. I have to ask Nick to finish it, and Charlie finds me a band-aid and opens it up while I keep the bleeding at bay with a tissue.

After I’ve been patched up, I make a couple more negroni’s and aviations (aviators?) and when it hits 10, I check Facebook and realise that I’m shifted on at the club at 10, not 11. I’m about to tell Charlie this, and as I do, he tells me that’s good for tonight and if I need to get off to the club, I’m free to do so.

I’m concerned, but he handshakes hard and strong and smiles many thank you’s He tells me that another lady is finishing up here, but he would be happy to split the time up between us if I have enjoyed myself. To top it all off, he pays me for the trial. It’s a sign of a decent man, if not heavenly entity to pay for a trial shift in Sydney.

I change out of my tuxedo shirt and into a black T and thank Charlie again on the way out. I wave goodbye and walk right next door, into a hip hop bar called Hustle & Flow. I order a shot of tequila, tip the change and grab a cab from outside. I message Marina, letting her know I will be late, and it ends up costing me 20 dollars to get one suburb over. Fucking cabs, man.

I can’t remember the name of the girl who is promoting the party, but she is turnt as fuck. She used to work here, and keeps letting herself in behind the bar to make Margarita’s for herself. I try to tempt her with the offer of a margarita-ish drink but she never takes me up on it, so I offer one to Marina and make her a Whisky-rita. (-60ml Bourbon -30ml Drambuie -30ml Lime)

I try to make Matty a St Croix Sour, but it turns out Creme De Ginger is way different to the ginger liqueur I am accustomed to using.

I drink heaps of tequila on shift. And a beer or three. It’s all good fun. I clean up the bar fine and learn how to use the bottle crusher (Step 1-turn it on. Step 2-put empty bottles into it) and a broken bottle inside it makes a small cut on my finger, but only a tiny drop of blood emerges. It’s on the same hand as the other two.

I walk to The Strawberry Hills Hotel in Surry Hills with Matty and drink a red wine and run into Steve, an old uni friend, and the bar shuts nearly immediately. I take a cab home and stumble into bed at 5.30am on Sunday morning. My weekend has barely even begun.

#depression #bipolar #sadness #sad #writing #journal #tequila #gin #bourbon #tanqueray #bartender #cocktails #cocktail #bars #redfern #sydney #osaka #japan #nightmare #weekend #martini #negroni

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meraenthusiast · 4 years

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The 7 Best Real Estate Books For Investing

One of the more popular Google searches today has to do with achieving financial freedom.

When I turned 40, we reached debt-free status which felt great for about….two weeks. As a periodontist, my life has been centered around setting and accomplishing goals.

After getting into dental school then a residency; the next goal was starting a practice then eventually paying off student loan debt and our home.

So when I hit 40, I asked myself, “Hey self, what’s next?” At that time, we had only ONE income source coming in and that was from the practice.

*Active or earned income is the HIGHEST taxed source of income.

Something else that bothered me was the thought of not being able to work.

What if I was injured or disabled?

How would I take care of my family?

I continue to play tennis, basketball, football and ski with my kids. Yes, we’re an active family which increases the risk of injury.

Also, what if a pandemic struck causing the U.S. to shut down again?

Well, I really didn’t ask myself about the pandemic but I would certainly put it on my list of (what-if’s) moving forward.

I realized that I had to do something about the one income source issue but also wanted to spend more time with our boys before they moved off to college.

After performing research and networking, it seemed that passive income was the answer.

New goal

My new goal was set: Educate myself and begin acquiring multiple streams of income which would eventually lead to financial independence.

The next question that had to be answered was:

How do I get passive income?

The Road To Passive Income

When I first started learning about passive income, it took awhile to wrap my head around getting paid for work that I didn’t have to physically do.

After maintaining a lawn service for 10+ years and then on to treating patients, the thought of receiving a check each month without having to perform labor sounded too good to be true.

My first stop during the education process was to take a look at what millionaires do. If you can’t beat ’em then join them, right?

I voraciously read books either written by or about millionaires to find out how they accomplished their wealth.

Some of the books were:

The Millionaire Next Door

Think and Grow Rich

Everyday Millionaire

The Richest Man in Babylon

Secrets of the Millionaire Mind

Real Estate Is The Key

“90% of all millionaires become so through owning real estate. More money has been made in real estate than in all industrial investments combined. The wise young man or wage earner of today invests his money in real estate.” – Andrew Carnegie

Even though the majority of millionaires achieve their wealth through real estate, that doesn’t mean you’ll do the same if you become a real estate investor.

But one of the best ways to avoid failure and improve your chances of success is to learn by reading books.

Why Books?

With so much information out there online and on podcasts, you may wonder why I started with books.

I’ve always loved reading but also learned from research some of the daily habits of the rich and poor that Tom Corley of Rich Habits performed.

He found that your daily habits are responsible for your financial circumstances in life.

Here’s a few stats that he uncovered:

86% of the wealthy loved reading vs. 26% for the poor

63% of the wealthy listened to audio books commuting vs. 5% for the poor

85% of the wealthy read two or more self-improvement books every month vs. 15% for the poor

88% of the wealthy read 30 minutes or more each day vs. 2% for the poor

94% of the wealthy, on a daily basis, read newspapers, newsletters, magazines, blogs and other digital media vs. 11% of the poor

The stats speak for themselves. If you want to be wealthy, learn the habits of the rich and read.

I’m a big believer of never investing in anything that you don’t understand and real estate is no different.

Here’s a list of the 7 best real estate books to get you started.

7 Best Real Estate Books

Note: The following books are not listed in any particular order.

#1 The Millionaire Real Estate Investor

In the book, The Millionaire Real Estate Investor, author Gary Keller of Keller-Williams Realty interviewed over 100 millionaire real estate investors to put together a guide for building wealth through real estate.

If you’re just starting out in real estate, then reading this would be similar to taking a Real Estate Investing 101 course.

I’m a firm believer that if you want to accomplish anything in life, then you have to start with the right MINDSET.

Keller’s book does a great job putting the reader in the investing mindset.

It starts off discussing basic investing advice we all need and then dives deeper into how it can be applied to real estate.

Personally, I feel that this is one of the best books on real estate investing.

#2 Rich Dad Poor Dad

The second book on our list of best real estate books is Robert Kiyosaki’s Rich Dad Poor Dad. It’s the ultimate book to get you started in real estate with the right frame of mind.

He obtained life lessons from his poor dad (real dad) that held a Ph.D in education, and a “rich dad” that was a successful business owner (one of the wealthiest in Hawaii) who only had an eighth grade education.

In the book, Kiyosaki shares six important lessons that he learned over a thirty year period from his rich dad.

These include:

Lesson #1: It’s not how much money you make, it’s how much you keep.

Lesson #2: The poor and the middle class work for money. The rich have money work for them.

Lesson #3: It’s not the smart who get ahead, but the bold.

Lesson #4: Corporations are the biggest secret of the rich.

Lesson #5: The rich focus on their asset columns while everyone else focuses on their income statements.

Lesson #6: People who avoid failure also avoid success.

#3 The ABC’s of Real Estate Investing

For many real estate investors, “The ABCs of Real Estate Investing” by Ken McElroy is their go-to book that teaches the basics of real estate investing.

McElroy has over 26 years of senior-level experience in multifamily asset and property management.

In it, he discusses how to achieve wealth with real estate by:

negotiating deals

finding and evaluating properties

using property management tools to increase income

plus much more

Even though the book mainly focuses on apartments, most of the concepts can still be applied to other types of real estate investments too.

#4 What Every Real Estate Investor Needs To Know About Cash Flow

When I first started investing in real estate, two things stood out:

I needed to learn a new set of terminology

Math is a big deal in real estate!

The fourth book on our list of best real estate books is Frank Gallinelli’s What Every Real Estate Investor Needs to Know About Cash Flow… and 36 Other Key Financial Measures. This book can help you figure it all out, especially for newbies.

The key to evaluating deals is knowing your numbers and this book does a great job breaking that down for you.

Some of the terms the book details are:

cash-on-cash return

equity multiple

cash flow

net present value

internal rate of return

cap rate

You’ll also find thorough explanations of all the calculations you need to learn to evaluate real estate deals.

#5 The CashFlow Quadrant

Yes, another Kiyosaki book makes the list!

This time it’s the sequel to Rich Dad Poor Dad titled, The CashFlow Quadrant.

If you’re a frequent reader of this blog, you know that I’m a big Kiyosaki and Grant Cardone fan.

Do I recommend or agree with everything they say?

No.

But I do enjoy both of their styles of teaching financial freedom using real estate.

The book centers around the 4 quadrants he claims we all fall into:

Image Courtesy of Wealthfit.com

Which one are you in?

Kiyosaki claims that most people are on the left side or the “poor side” of the quadrant. They’re either employees or self-employed.

Most physicians and dentists are typically on the left side too as they mainly trade their time for money.

In order for them to make money, they must perform…or they don’t get paid.

The goal of the book seems to motivate the masses to move from the left to the right side of the quadrant….and he does a pretty darn good job of it too.

#6 Retire Early With Real Estate

Do you want to eventually reach financial freedom sooner rather than later?

What better source to learn from than someone that has done just that by the age of 37. Real estate coach Chad Carson put together a comprehensive guide to financial freedom called Retire Early With Real Estate.

Can’t beat that title.

His book provides a five-step process to creating your own real estate early retirement plan.

Other takeaways include:

How to use rental income to pay all your monthly bills

A step-by-step process for using rental properties to retire within 10-15 years

Case studies of everyday people who have used real estate to retire

#7 The Book on Rental Property Investing: How to Create Wealth and Passive Income

Owning residential real estate is one of the most popular ways active investors currently invest.

When I first started learning about real estate, investing in single family homes was my first stop.

The Book On Rental Property Investing’s author, Brandon Turner, is the co-host of the “Bigger Pockets” podcast, which is one of the best resources for real estate investing.

If you’re just getting started or want to learn more about building wealth with real estate, look no further than Turner’s book.

The book highlights:

how to find deals, even in competitive markets

strategies to finding good paying tenants

finding property financing

why cash flow is so important

tax reduction strategies as a part of your investment strategy

plus, much more

The Bottom Line

If you’re looking for a way to build wealth plus diversify your portfolio, then real estate investing is the key.

But before you begin to deploy your money, make sure you begin the self-education process (as with any type of investing).

One of the best ways to do this is to start reading some of (or all) the books on our best real estate books list.

However, reading these are only one way to gain real estate knowledge.

Consider other options such as:

podcasts

seminars

real estate mentor(s)

courses

Are you ready to to start investing for cash flow? Join the Passive Investors Circle today.

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ladystylestores · 4 years

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Voices of Fashion’s Black Creatives on the Work to Be Done – WWD

https://pmcwwd.files.wordpress.com/2020/06/instagram-3.jpg?w=640&h=415&crop=1

D-I-V-E-R-S-I-T-Y.

The industry has been proclaiming its need to be more diverse for at least a decade, and proudly patting itself on the back for the steps it has taken. Companies issue press releases about the efforts they are making internally; they give donations; they buy tables at charity events supporting black causes; they might even sponsor scholarships. Only last year, numerous fashion groups publicized how they had hired chief diversity officers, established internal panels and hired outside experts to help them become more diverse and understand racial differences.

Is that enough?

The protesters who have filled the streets of cities across America, and of many others around the world, over the killing of George Floyd by four Minneapolis police officers, have made it clear the answer is a firm, loudly proclaimed: NO!

All one has to do is to look at our list to see how pitiful the representation of blacks at senior levels in the fashion and retail industries is in the 21st century. How many chief executive officers are there at leading firms? Three — and one of those, Virgil Abloh, founded his own company.

The percentage of black designers in the membership of the Council of Fashion Designers of America? Four percent.

The protests over the Floyd killing have shaken society to the core more than any other in a tragic string of past killings at the hands of police officers, or white citizens. And it isn’t the unfortunate violence that has in some cases accompanied those demonstrations. It is that these marches have caused us to reexamine — or perhaps for the first time, truly examine — whether the steps, beliefs and behaviors we have long thought were absolutely fine are truly enough to make a difference.

Racism — or even unconscious bias — has festered for centuries, and will not be cauterized overnight. What the protesters continue to make clear is that things need to get much better, and much faster, than they have been. There are no easy answers to how, but in the first of two parts, WWD asked black creatives to share their experiences of discrimination, how companies can do better, and more.

Tracy Reese Diane Bondareff/AP/Shutterstock

Tracy Reese

What unique challenges do you feel you have faced due to your race?

That’s such a huge question. Maintaining a strong sense of self-worth when you have been spit on, called the “N” word, stalked by security in stores and other public spaces, denied leases, loans, attention, opportunities and been the only person of color at camp, in classrooms, meetings and boardrooms has been challenging. My parents always made sure I knew my value and I’ve been determined to push through and succeed in spite of these experiences.

What should the fashion industry be doing now to fight racist policies and police brutality?

Our industry must stand in solidarity with Black Lives Matter, Campaign Zero, the NAACP and other organizations fighting for justice and equality. We can use our sizable voice to collectively lobby for legislation to change how police forces are trained and correct mass incarceration policies.

The fashion industry must also respond by examining its own practices. We are not employing black people in management and executive positions in production, wholesale, retail and media in proportions that reflect the population. Black people have historically been shut out of these opportunities.

Recognize and celebrate the contributions black people have made to fashion and culture

What should brands be doing to enact change from within, promote inclusion in their workforces and in their imagery and products?

Recognize the oppressive consequences of centuries of systemic racism. Institute apprenticeship and fellowship programs that lead to managerial opportunities. Have honest conversations about race and equity with all employees on a regular basis. Ask black employees what support they feel they need to level the playing field and implement action.

What role can the media play?

Media must reflect the world we really live in and keep asking the difficult questions long after the current fury has receded. Black people must be represented as humans who laugh, cry, live, love, nurture, create, rejoice and contribute to the fabric of this society in infinite ways.

What makes you feel hopeful at this moment?

The fact that we are even having these conversations.

André Leon Talley Stephane Feugere/WWD

André Leon Talley

What unique challenges do you feel you have faced due to your race?

The biggest challenge is to get up everyday and to go forward and to fight the battle.…As a black man, I could have been in a situation like George Floyd — put in handcuffs and thrown to the ground. A black man must think about racism every single day.

What should the fashion industry be doing now to fight racist policies and police brutality?

Have more awareness and discussions. People need to listen — not just have summits and things. It’s not just about having a town hall. It’s got to be something for the industry to practice where people are included — not just the big brands but the unsung hero designer as well, and not only black designers, but brown designers and Asian designers. It’s got to focus on the humanity of the fashion world, not just the megawatt brands, each individual.

What should brands be doing to enact change from within, promote inclusion in their workforces and in their imagery and products?

The brands first of all should be more aware and conscious of the times we live in, which are difficult because of the pandemic and the whole thing about social justice and equality for black people. Brands need to focus on inclusivity and diversity of black people in ways that they have not done before. Gucci has done it brilliantly. Gucci had a luncheon last year with 300 of the most influential African Americans in the industry. They have an advisory committee for diversity. People have got to be included more. It’s not just a selfish thing any more. Fashion turned in on itself and became this very narcissistic endeavor, with brands outdoing brands and shows outdoing shows.

Instagram posts from Diandra Forrest, Kerby Jean-Raymond and Nikki Ogunnaike.

What role can the media play?

Each individual has to find a way in this pandemic to be more resourceful and to create something that is exciting. When Essence wanted to photograph Naomi Campbell for their 50th anniversary cover, she photographed herself on her cell phone. That sent a very strong message. The industry has to come up with ways to be resourceful. They have to think about what this virus of racism and the virus of COVID-19 means for the future. They have to reach out to future generations. This whole Zoom effect is phenomenal. You can teach 130 students from 130 countries on Zoom, which means you can have webinars, too. You can use social media to make change. Change comes in very different ways. The powerful have got to listen to the powerless.

What makes you feel hopeful at this moment?

What makes me hopeful is a sense of who I am and that there can be progress. People have to come together — individuals within the fashion world and outside the fashion world — to continue to work, to struggle and you don’t give up. You don’t give up the dream. The dream has not been achieved. Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated April 12, 1968 and here we are on June 4, 2020 having to memorialize a man whose life was stamped out of him…and it was photographed in real time.

Brett Johnson Courtesy

Brett Johnson

What should the fashion industry be doing now to fight racist policies and police brutality?

I believe there’s a plethora of initiatives the fashion industry can implement.

First, the treatment of people of color in their stores. From first-hand experience you get one of two reactions, either being followed or completely ignored. I should be treated the same as the clients that are not people of color.

Second, the inclusion of people of color in fashion shows and events. Diversity in casting, your front row and guests, open your doors to fashion students of color.

Third, I think that one of the most powerful images that I saw was both in NY and Flint, Mich., when the police chiefs took a knee and hugged to express unity between them and the people.

Major fashion houses can express this by collaborations with designers of color. Implementing apprenticeships with people of color because I’m a firm believer in a “hands on approach”.

Fourth, I think fashion schools should also follow Aurora James’ recommendation and require a minimum of 15 people of their student body to be students of color.

Lastly, major fashion brands need to be conscious of products they design and be more culturally sensitive to people of color’s past history — including appropriation of black culture and black iconography.

What should brands be doing to enact change from within, promote inclusion in their workforces and in their imagery and products?

I unequivocally believe that the aforementioned 15 percent rule be applied to executive boards, staff and management. Presently two-thirds of my executive team are women of color. I also think women in general are undervalued and their voices need to be represented in all three phases.

What role can the media play?

I believe this truly circles back around to major fashion houses being more inclusive. When more people of color are included then this creates opportunities to put themselves around media and in the position to create relationships they will need farther down the road. Providing a platform that they would otherwise not have access to.

The media could do a much better job of covering designers of color who have no attachments to global celebrities.

What makes you feel hopeful at this moment?

Receiving uplifting messages from our global retailers and their willingness to continue to support a luxury designer of color even through an international pandemic.

Dapper Dan Courtesy

Dapper Dan, fashion innovator

What unique challenges do you feel you have faced due to your race?

There are two. One is renting commercial and/or residential spaces to use for my business. The other is being able to buy luxury brands wholesale.

What should the fashion industry be doing now to fight racist policies and police brutality?

They should sponsor a legal team and cover all costs for the legal team to represent those who are affected by racist policies and police brutality.

Instagram posts from Iman, Telfar Clemens, and Jason Rembert.

What should brands be doing to enact change from within, promote inclusion in their workforces and in their imagery and products?

I feel that Gucci’s Changemakers plan is the right direction to go in. We need more of this.

What role can the media play?

The media should implore that all the other luxury brands follow Gucci’s lead.

What makes you feel hopeful at this moment?

I grew up in a very different time in America. So, to now see so many white people supporting protests of issues that have been affecting black people, it gives me hope for America. It wasn’t like this at all when I was growing up.

Frederick Anderson Courtesy

Frederick Anderson

What unique challenges do you feel you have faced due to your race?

I so believe there is still a bias in specifically the American fashion industry toward understanding that black “luxury” designers can and do sell to women of all races and colors. I’ve heard for years this theory that white luxury clients would not buy off of black models. Keeping the black models relegated to one in a show. “Now,” well, thank God that has been proven wrong. Showing a broader view of the American woman.

Now the next barrier is to show that black American designers can sell “luxury,” not just athleticwear and urban-inspired fashion. I think this comes from the assumption that all black people grew up in the ghetto.

It’s strange as I thought the point of progress is so we can view people by their own accomplishments and not by a stereotype…the stereotype still exists.

Black designers, as designers from all other races, design from their personal history and experiences and not every black person is from an impoverished past or divided family and yes some even had very successful and educated mothers and fathers.

What should the fashion industry be doing now to fight racist policies and police brutality?

Raise up black designer role models. Create a conversation about understanding how the racist idea that black people are lesser in one way ends up in the police devaluing the life of a black person by having the same racist assumption.

There is a connection!

What should brands be doing to enact change from within, promote inclusion in their workforces and in their imagery and products?

Self-evaluate and see how you are part of the problem or the solution. False support when it’s trendy will not help. It’s actively working to change our own minds first and then those of the people we employ and influence.

What role can the media play?

Tell the truth. Never stop.

What makes you feel hopeful at this moment?

The racial mix in the crowds in every march I have seen. I am proud of the new generation. They already have made a change in attitudes by showing it’s not enough to feel sad. It affects everyone in one way or another.

Change hurts. It’s not an easy process nor is it pretty to watch. Maybe it’s a lesson we can learn in this time of COVID-19 when we actually have time to watch and absorb this moment.

I’m changed forever.

Nasrin Jean-Baptiste Courtesy

Nasrin Jean-Baptiste, Petit Kouraj

What are the unique challenges you feel have faced in fashion due to being black?

I think one of the more insidious challenges facing black people and POC-owned fashion business is not only are women undervalued within the industry but as a woman of color, we are all too frequently placed in a position of invisibility and inequality. With this imposed separateness, the responsibility has unfairly fallen on us to resist the societal messaging and conditioning we experience daily. This teaches us that our contribution and mere existence is somehow inferior. We are burdened with the call to displace that thinking and find within us the strength to operate from a place of complete abundance and worthiness. This is a daily practice for black people in general, we do it during our morning coffee before we check our to-do lists or open our laptops. It has become so normalized that we often forget that we are carrying this burden until we are reminded in subtle and not-so-subtle ways how we are perceived, upon which we repeat this inner work.

What should the fashion industry be doing now to fight racist policies and police brutality?

First and foremost, the fashion industry has a responsibility to actively participate in the fight against injustice, whether the industry likes it or not. People of color, specifically, black people have had a long history of radically impacting our fashion industry without recognition and participation is just one way the industry can preserve and acknowledge our contribution.

There are many ways the fashion industry can get involved and information on this has never been so readily available. Supporting organizations that have long been doing the groundwork in their local and greater communities is a great place to start, donate to these causes. Make your support visible so we can all be encouraged and educated on these platforms is also vital.

What should brands be doing to enact change from within, promote inclusion in their workforces and in their imagery and products?

I think brands need to think holistically, this moment requires us all to practice extreme humility and unashamedly ask ourselves the difficult and painful questions. We must objectively examine our personal basis, work culture, and practices within the business we are creating and make sure we are making ourselves accountable for the issues facing the world. When this work is done, inclusion within the workforce and boardrooms comes naturally. This is not a time for silence or passive alliance. I want to see larger brands support small POC-owned businesses, by investing in our brands on your social media, on your e-commerce web sites, and on the retail floors.

Instagram posts from Imaan Hammam and Alton Mason.

What role can the media play?

The media can help to amplify the voices, stories and businesses of POC. We need balanced and factual reporting. The media can and should help by contextualizing what is happening in America as not just a black issue but as a human issue. We are in the midst of social change and this is a perfect time to examine America’s dark history and how human behavior individually and collectively is impacting us all now.

What makes you feel hopeful at this moment?

Though we are all experiencing a very conflicting and emotional time, I am overwhelmed with the hope that a shift in our collective consciousness is taking place. To see people coming together on a national level in various forms of protest, to listen, to engage and to see the call to response globally is extremely motivating.

Any additional thoughts?

I started my bag line as a daily reminder to find the courage to create the life and world of my dreams. It is my hope that in this moment, we are all encouraged to find within us a little courage daily to create the sustained change needed for a better way of living.

Tia Adeola Courtesy

Tia Adeola

What unique challenges do you feel you have faced due to your race?

I think the fact that I’m not just black, but also a woman means that I have to be extra polite and sometimes even hold back on how I truly feel or on things I want to say so I’m not labeled as “the angry black woman.” From the second I walk into a room everyone is judging me or jumping to negative assumptions based on how I look and I have to be conscious of my every move.

What should the fashion industry be doing now to fight racist policies and police brutality?

I think the fashion industry should be restructuring their teams and putting more black people in positions of real power, donating to fundraisers and using their vast platforms on social media to support Black Lives Matter. And by this, I don’t mean only supporting the movement after they’ve felt the pressure due to their silence, but in an ongoing and meaningful way where they contribute to changing a system they’re culpable in.

Instagram posts from Corianna + Brianna Dotson and Duckie Thot.

What should brands be doing to enact change from within, promote inclusion in their workforces and in their imagery and products?

I think one of the most important things would be to start hiring more black people and when I say this, I don’t mean hiring people to work in the storefront or in the stock room. I mean hiring black people on an executive level. Let us be decision-makers, once this is enforced, everything else will fall into place as far as imagery goes.

What role can the media play?

Just like the policemen have their walkie-talkies and radio systems to communicate, social media is what we as a community are using to find people who are being abducted at protests, share organizations that are accepting donations for the black community, and educate people who don’t fully grasp the magnitude or complexities of what’s going on.

What makes you feel hopeful at this moment?

A black man was shot in Brooklyn just yesterday, another in Louisville the day before, I’m sure there are several more because these stories aren’t being reported. I don’t feel hopeful.

Larissa Muehleder Courtesy

Larissa Muehleder, Muehleder

What unique challenges do you feel you have faced due to your race?

It’s uncomfortable to discuss this because I’m very grateful for all that I did have growing up, but when you start to meet really successful people you realize how much you lacked and the reason for your struggles. White people don’t realize the magnitude of assistance they have by simply inheriting financial literacy and resources. It would have been helpful to have had parents or relatives who knew about business and raising capital so you can minimize your mistakes and increase your chances of success but most minority-owned businesses, like my own, are bootstrapped when the reality is a lot of companies raise money before they go into business. Having someone else invest in me didn’t even occur to me when I started Muehleder and managing our finances was a journey on its own. That’s why my best advice to black business owners is to seek out mentorship and organizations like FITDE for guidance, create a business plan, and never stop reviewing it. Work smarter, not harder.

What should the fashion industry be doing now to fight racist policies and police brutality?

I think at the basic level, making sure that the conversations keep going is key. Unlike the news outlets, the fashion industry does not have to be censored. They can push bold agendas through imagery that keep the conversation going and create the narrative you want to be seen. For example, [President] Trump referred to black protesters as “thugs.” How can we change that narrative and show the police as the real thugs? It’s not an easy topic, but if you really want a change you have to do what isn’t easy or comfortable.

In addition, not only hiring black creators but making sure their voices and opinions are heard and that they are comfortable enough to even share them. When you ask yourself, have I created a space where people feel equal? What is your answer? If you are not sure then you know you have more work to do.

What should brands be doing to enact change from within, promote inclusion in their workforces and in their imagery and products?

Change from within starts at the top. The right leadership means everything and it’s not just what you have to say, but the actions you continue to implement long after the riots and the noise subsides. Meaning, don’t post about it, be about it, and open the platform to different races for fresh “woke” ideas with a purpose to flow.

What role can the media play?

I find that too often the media doesn’t appear to be genuine. They are all simply posting the same viral video. They need to be more creative by diving deep into the different layers of an issue in order to have a unique voice. In return, they will not only get their audience to pay attention but inspire their audience to take action.

What makes you feel hopeful at this moment?

I’m hopeful because I myself have become more aware than I have ever been in my life. I’ve been doing nothing but research these past eight days and following all the progressive people and organizations that I feel are on top of issues I care about. My friends and I are all sharing resources and this has sparked a conversation within our group and with white people on Instagram who I don’t even know. People who were unaware are now aware and want to know how they can help. It is amazing to see everyone around the world join in our fight because racism is a global issue. We may be divided amongst some groups but the united front has never been stronger. White people are listening and trying their best to understand and that is the start, continuing the conversation is the journey ahead, and voting is our greatest weapon. We are about to vote like our lives depend on it, because for once, everyone can see that lives do depend on it.

Theresa Ebagua Courtesy

Theresa Ebagua, Chelsea Paris

What are the unique challenges you feel have faced in fashion due to being black?

Finding and maintaining space in any industry can be challenging. While there is more diversity within the fashion industry today, there are times when I feel limitations on my creative expression. The fear is always appearing “too black.” Is that print too much? Is this collection too bold? With each launch, I feel more grounded in my identity as an African designer and I find moments to celebrate that heritage.

What should the fashion industry be doing now to fight racist policies and police brutality?

Every action counts, from informative posts to conscious designs. I would embolden all of us in the fashion industry to use our collective voice, influence and creativity to challenge racist policies and maintain awareness of incidents of police brutality.

What should brands be doing to enact change from within, promote inclusion in their workforces and in their imagery and products?

As a brand, awareness is imperative. We have to acknowledge that we are in a constant battle against systemic racism. Afterwards, we can engage in inclusive reform within our respective teams and collections.

Instagram posts from Elaine Welteroth, Hannah Bronfman, and Campbell Addy.

What role can the media play?

The media is responsible for keeping the public informed and should focus on a holistic and accurate portrayal of current events. An increase in positive representation of black faces is needed. While there have been improvements, the media still falls short of uplifting the black community.

What makes you feel hopeful at this moment?

Witnessing the mobilization of younger generations, seeing their passion and strength as they fight for justice and equality makes me expectant for the future.

Any additional thoughts?

There are no right words to describe what is happening. We are experiencing waves of irreconcilable emotions: outrage, exhaustion, pain, fear. This is a time to lean on one another; together, we can and we must end racial injustice.

Fe Noel Courtesy

Fe Noel

What unique challenges do you feel you have faced due to your race?

I’d say being constantly pigeon holed. We are a proud black brand; however, being constantly grouped does not highlight our core individual strengths and focus. I’d love to be on an equal playing field with other brands of the same caliber and focus on the craft, fashion and brand messaging.

What should the fashion industry be doing now to fight racist policies and police brutality?

I’ve always believed fashion is reflective of the current state of our economy. It is political. I’d like to see the industry get innovative and create a new platform that educates and speaks on acceptable policies in a way that resonates.

What should brands be doing to enact change from within, promote inclusion in their workforces and in their imagery and products?

I think brands should reassess their core values and approach inclusion with a new lens. Rethink your hiring strategies, charitable efforts and marketing. Making these additional changes will create immediate impact.

What makes you feel hopeful at this moment?

One thing about me is that I remain optimistic at all times and I remind myself that change is constant. I am even more hopeful now with this massive wake up call.

Lisa Price, founder of Carol’s Daughter

What unique challenges do you feel you have faced due to your race?

Unfortunately there are many challenges I have faced from a young age. From age 15/16, when I began to shop by myself, up until maybe 10 to 15 years ago, I was followed when I shopped in stores. Always. To this day, I have a very hard time catching a cab in NYC. I always use Uber. Now, those don’t have a bearing on me being an entrepreneur but they are part of the “extra” with which I walk through life as a black woman. While I feel very blessed to have had my success recognized despite the color of my skin and despite the fact that I am a woman, part of that success is because my numbers were so strong and early on my first investor was an incredibly successful innovator in marketing and advertising and he was a person with whom people would not say “no” to a meeting. This combination ensured I was able to get in the room at a time when that was not an easy thing for an African American-founded beauty brand who had the African American consumer as its focus.

What should brands be doing to enact change from within, promote inclusion in their workforces and in their imagery and products?

If your brand is made for and caters to only one race, that is fine. Be that and do that. The problem comes when you say that you are for all but your marketing across all channels does not reflect that and even worse, your marketing welcomes black women but only a certain shade of black girl or maybe she is an ambiguous black girl. And the worst case scenario is featuring a model with a deeper skin tone but not actually having a shade for her in the line or having it but 90 percent of your retail partners don’t carry it. You have to be honest, authentic and transparent. It is too easy for one to be called out if you are not.

What makes you feel hopeful at this moment?

I am hopeful that there is now conversation back and forth. We are speaking to each other and making ourselves vulnerable and asking how to help. That is not an easy thing to do and it is happening. Only good can come from meaningful conversation.

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