#i agree with everyone before me who said he has mom rock music taste

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 14

WIP Wednesday is happening this week! I would've had it up an hour or two ago, but I ended up having to run an emergency errand for my mom to keep her friend's car from being towed. But it's all been taken care of!

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Note: Anyone who still doesn't know which episode I'm basing this arc on should know by the end of this segment. I did realize I made a mistake, though. The invading ghosts are Walker's guards. In the episode, up to this point the trio never refer to them as such. The audience, however, sees Walker send them in. I took that as Danny and co didn't realize they were Walker's people. But as I was going through minute-by-minute while writing, Danny does call them Walker's goons. So he knew the entire time. I'm adjusting that going forward and I'll retroactively make the edits before posting to AO3.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

Everyone left Sam’s house at the same time. The Amity crowd had to get to school and no one felt comfortable staying at Sam’s house while she wasn’t home. As they ate a quick breakfast, Tim noticed Conner’s fingernails were painted.

“Looks good, Kon,” he commented.

“Thanks,” said Sam. “I did them last night while you and Danny were sleeping. Introduced him to actual music, too.”

Conner grinned. “She’s promised to burn me some CDs before we go.”

“A mixed tape is the only valid way to share music,” Sam agreed. “And if he’s gonna rock the punk look, he should know the punk culture, too.”

Tim laughed. “Well, looks like we know what we’ll be listening to on the way home. Will you need a CD player, Kon?”

“Is my laptop not good enough?”

Tim clicked his tongue. “Come to Gotham with me. I know I have an old one lying around. Nothing like listening to a CD while lying somewhere, wired headphones tangling up as you shift position. If you want the authentic experience, that’s the only way to go.”

Conner shrugged, clearly unsure. “If you say so.”

Danny yawned. “You’re giving him Dumpty Humpty, right?”

Sam snorted. “Am I giving him Dumpty Humpty? Who do you think I am? Of course I am!”

“Good. You can’t introduce someone to good music and leave out Dumpty Humpty.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, you’ve gotten me into them. They’re fun. You’ll like them, Kon.”

“You played a song or two by them last night, right?” Conner asked.

Cassie nodded. “Yep. That’s who she was playing when Tucker, Bart, and I left to get some sleep in the other room.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s right. I liked them.”

“Of course you did,” said Sam as she flicked her hair. “I have excellent taste.”

Tucker was typing away on his PDA. “So what’ll you be doing while we’re in school?”

Tim grimaced. “I was thinking of hitting up the local library. We want to learn more about the ghosts. But also B has said that a condition of allowing me to extend my trip is that I keep up with my own schoolwork. So I have some catch up to do.”

Danny waved his spoon at him. “And you get on me for not doing my work.”

“Yeah, but you want to graduate and, like, go to college and shit. The stuff I want to do doesn’t require a diploma of any kind. B’s just making me do it because he society has convinced him it’s important.”

Tucker’s PDA alarm went off. “And that alarm means if we’re not out the door in five minutes, we’re gonna be late.”

Everyone groaned as they pushed away from the table and collected their belongings. The walk into town was filled with music discussion. Bart and Conner mostly listened and took note of recommended bands and musicians. Sam tended to know the most obscure stuff, but Tim knew some foreign bands from his time in Europe that no one else had heard of.

The walk was, thankfully, not disturbed by ghosts, but Danny’s ghost sense did go off several times.

“Didn’t your parents make a device that can track ghosts?” asked Tim the third time he complained. “Would that help you locate them?”

Danny hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe, I’ll have to see if I can find it. My parents stopped using it when it kept zeroing in on me. It was too loud for stealth use, though, and loudly went off anytime I was in range. And it didn’t work great for a 3D environment. So Tucker and I would have to develop a new display that can tell me if one is above or below me.”

“I should be able to help, too. You know how good I am with computers.”

“If I can find the device or blueprints, I’ll take you up on that.”

Not long after, they had to say goodbye at the entrance to Caspar High. Dash and his friends also arrived at about the same time. The group stared at Danny, but didn’t move to interact.

“Think they’re still overshadowed?” asked Conner, mirroring Tim’s thoughts.

“God, I hope not,” said Danny.

“But knowing our luck…” Sam trailed off.

Tim sighed. “Keep your distance as much as possible.”

“I know, mom.” Danny rolled his eyes. The school bell rang and he adjusted his backpack strap. “Gotta go. Have fun at the library.” His sarcasm was very evident and he hugged Tim.

The gesture surprised him and his return hug was slightly delayed. “I think I’ll find more than enough to amuse me there.”

With a quick goodbye, the trio rushed off before they could be late.

“So,” said Cassie, “Sam and Tucker seem to have a ton of ideas about you and Danny.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Danny and I only met in person less than forty-eight hours ago.”

Bart nudged him. “And yet you’re already sleeping in the same bed and giving each other goodbye hugs.”

“I do the same with you guys.” He pulled out his phone to check the location of the library. “Come on, let’s just get to the library. I want to see if they have a digital subscription to the local paper we can use.”

Tim didn’t get much schoolwork done that morning, but he did find out Danny was originally named Inviso-Bill by the press and immediately began planning ways to prank him with that knowledge.

For the rest, he compared what was reported vs what had actually happened with past ghost attacks. One thing was clear, Danny needed much better PR. Hopefully being seen working with the Young Justice would help. And maybe Sam would actually listen if he tried to give pointers on how to manage public perception.

Shortly after noon and before Tim could even pretend he was about to switch over to school work, his phone rang.

“Hey, Danny. What’s up?”

“Tim! Do any of you speak Esperanto?”

“Uh… I don’t. Let me ask Bart.” He lowered the phone to ask.

“Esperanto? What’s that?” asked Bart.

“I’ll explain later,” said Tim. Back into the phone, he added, “Doesn’t look like it. Why? What’s going on?”

“So… You remember that wolf ghost with the collar? Walker’s goons are after him, too. I’m not sure why since he only speaks Esperanto. I got him away from both them and my parents. Think you can keep him safe until school is out? If I miss any more class I’ll be grounded until graduation. Senior graduation.”

Tim gestured to his friends to pack everything up. “Yeah, sure. Where are you right now? I’ll have Bart meet you first and the rest of us will follow.”

Danny gave him directions to a forested area behind the school which Tim relayed to Bart. As soon as the group was out of the library, Bart rushed ahead to Danny.

Over the phone, Danny let him know Bart had arrived. “Oh, and Tucker just got here, too. Excellent. He can speak Esperanto as well. Looks like he’s explaining things to big and hairy over here.”

“Great. We’ll be there soon as we can.”

“Can we fly there?” asked Conner.

Cassie nodded. “People would just think we’re more ghosts.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Superboy and Wonder Girl were seen in town just last night. No.”

Conner stuck his tongue out at him. “Spoilsport.”

“Relax. It’s not far. GPS has us in the general location in, like, ten minutes.”

“Fine, fine,” sighed Cassie. “We’ll be good.”

Tim elbowed her with a grin. “Now, I never said you had to do that.”

Conner laughed. “So, what is this Esperanto language, anyway? I haven’t heard of it.”

“It’s a conlang based on European languages that’s supposed to be easy to learn. The idea was to make a sort of common language for Earth without promoting a single language like English. It hasn’t gained a lot of traction, though. And if Bart doesn’t know it, then it likely won’t.”

“Huh, weird. Why do you think a werewolf ghost know an Earth-based conlang?”

“Oooh! I bet it’s because he’s the manifestation of some teenage girl’s OC,” offered Cassie.

Tim laughed. “Or maybe the OC of one of the people to create Esperanto.”

Conner shook his head. “You’ve got this all wrong. He’s from an alternate future where Esperanto did take off and a werewolf virus spread among humans.”

The ten minute walk was filled with more and more outlandish theories ending with the wolf being the reincarnation of Jesus who was trying to bring humanity together through the reinstitution of a common language like in the pre-Tower-of-Babel days.

At the edge of the woods, Tim nudged Conner. “Can you hear where they are?”

“Yep. Follow me.”

And then it was less than two minutes before Tim could see them. “Oi! Danny!” he called out with a wave.

Danny flew over to them and hugged him. “Thank you so much! You’re gonna save me so many detentions.” He grabbed Tim’s hand and pulled him towards Tucker and the ghost. “Tim, this is Wulf. Wulf,” Danny said while making eye contact, “Friends.” Then he slowly pointed to each person and said their name.

Tucker rolled his eyes and repeated the information in Esperanto. Tim recognized his and his teammates names and many of the words felt familiar. Likely since he knew or was learning a few European languages.

“So, will we just hang out here for the next few hours until you get out of school?” asked Tim.

“Yeah. It’ll only be about two and a half hours. That okay? Then we’ll go back to Sam’s place. We can hide in her basement.”

“We’ve hung out in worse places for longer,” said Bart. “This is practically cozy. And me or one of the others can run into town for food and supplies. Anything you want from your parent’s place? Food? Snacks?”

Tucker grinned. “If you could get some jerky, that’d be great. No meat at Sam’s.”

Danny laughed. “If we think of anything else, one of us will text it to the group chat.”

An alarm buzzed on Tucker’s PDA. “We’ve got to get back now.”

“Shit. Okay. I’ll fly us back. Bye Tim, everyone!” Danny picked up Tucker and flew away, turning invisible before he was more than a few yards away.

-----

Next

So, more banter and more plot! We're almost starting to get somewhere! This marks roughly the halfway point of the episode. And the arc is almost 25k words. This is why I take forever to publish anything. It always spirals out of my control. Even this section, I originally opened with them in the library. But then I remembered I wanted to have Sam paint Conner's nails and that led to me adding over 900 words to the beginning.

I no longer do tag lists for this fic, but if you make your way to the subscription post, you can set it up so you get notified when this updates.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #tim drake #and the rest #eventual dead tired #i should probably stop adding the ship tag #since that wont happen til arc 3 #(assuming I don't fit another arc in first) #the gang meets wulf! #their first friendly ghost #that's how early in the series this is set #how many of you recognized the episode before this installment?

[notmycatsname]

Adds to my running list of songs remus lupin would get h*gh and cry to

#suzanne leonard Cohen #bridge over troubled water #fucking mountain goats woke up new #also up the wolves #carpenters superstar #he yells along to that one #nina simone stars #that last song from brokeback mountain #im also taking suggestions #i agree with everyone before me who said he has mom rock music taste #judee sill

[carnationcreation]

Safe haven (Will Byers x reader)

Masterlist

Prompt/summary: Reader is new in town and gets trapped in the upside down with Will

Word Count: 1,988

Warnings: Kidnapping (if you can call it that), mentions of PTSD, trauma bonding, etc.

Hawkins, Indiana was definitely a… strange town. I could never really pinpoint what made me think that but somewhere in the back of my mind that is just how I would describe it. Adjusting to a new life in a town that made me vaguely uncomfortable was not how I pictured my middle school years to finish up.

The move came as a surprise. With my dad getting a job at Hawkins lab my mom and I didn’t really have a choice but to move with him. After about a week of unpacking my mom finally got a job at the local newspaper as a secretary.

My science class was definitely interesting. Mr. Clarke was an enthusiastic teacher who really only taught to the four boys sitting up front, the rest just seemed like background characters. Everyone realized that they could get away with raising their hand only once a day and sometimes even less than that. Regardless of if the answer was correct or not Mr. Clarke would take that as participation and wouldn’t really force anyone to talk after that. Being the new kid that was amazing.

When I wasn’t at school I was either one of two places. One being at the office with my mom, or two blowing my allowance money at the arcade. Tonight was arcade night. Mom stayed late to finish up some last minute papers while I spent 2 hours playing Dig Doug and stuffing my face with chilli dogs from the concession stand. I even made the top score tonight. Before I knew it the clock finally hit 8:30 signalling closing time. I grabbed my bike off the rack and began my ride home.

The ride home was dark. My bike lamp was out so I tried to use the flashlight I kept in my bag. Riding one handed was not fun. I could feel clouds forming leaving the moisture smell in the air.

I heard something behind me and soon enough Will Byers pulled up next to me, “Hey!” he shouted, “you ride through Mirkwood?”

“What?” I shouted back.

“This road is called Mirkwood by the locals, where’s your house?”

“Just beyond the ridge, my dad works at the lab” I said, his bike lamp was now illuminating the way so I put my flashlight into my front basket.

“I didn’t even know you lived that close to me,” he smiled.

“Me neither.”

Just then Will’s lamp started flickering. We both jolted on our bikes trying to adjust to the darkness. Right as we started up the hill a tall lanky figure appeared in front of us. We both swerved to the right. We sped down a hill and into a ditch. My bike crashed into a try sending my flying onto my back. For a second I laid there trying to regain the wind that was knocked out of me.

“(Y/n)! Come on we gotta get out of here!” Will said. He pulled me to my feet and we began to run through the woods. Tripping over tree limbs and stumbling over rocks.

“My house is right over here,” he yelled.

We ran inside. Turning the lock and the deadbolt before he grabbed my hand and pulled me to the back. “Johnathan? Mom?”

His dog continued to bark. Will grabbed the phone and tried to dial 911, but a loud static sound was heard even from where I stood. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the sharpest knife out of the block. A loud bang was heard at the front door and Will dropped the phone.

“There’s a gun out back,” Will said.

We barricaded the shed door as much as we could, Will fumbled with the rifle but soon had one in the chamber and pointing at the door. I gripped the knife so tight my knuckles went white.

A strange gurgling was heard behind us.

As we turned around, there it was.

We were gone before we could react.

________________________________________________

We woke up in the woods.

Not in the same woods we ran through, but I swear it was the same one just… dark. The same feeling I got in the back of my head walking through town. Random particles flew through the air. Spores? Dust?

Will groaned from beside me.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I think so.”

From ahead was the same gurgling we heard last night.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“Run.”

________________________________________________

We ran.

For 2 days we ran. Breaking into gas stations and the grocery store to hide and steal food when we could. Everything tasted bland or stale. We stashed water bottles in our backpacks along with chips and granola bars. Taking turns sleeping and staying on the move.

It was terrifying.

Every single noise felt like it was my last moment alive. Every movement out of the corner of my eyes made me jump. When I could sleep it felt like I hadn’t at all. We never got a good look at that, well, thing, that took us. All we knew is that it was huge and dangerous. The tentacles tried to grab us but we dodged as much as we could.

It was so cold we would sleep in the same sleeping bag we found. Any embarrassment went out the door due to me almost getting frostbite on my toes. We took shifts sleeping when we could. I think Will let me sleep longer than our agreed time but I never said anything. It made me feel selfish.

Sometimes when we thought it was safe we would talk. Anything that came to mind we would discuss, trying to make it feel like we weren’t being hunted by a creature in a strange world we didn’t know. We talked about music, books, science, video games. Anything.

“Do you think they’re looking for us?” I asked. Will shifted so he could look down at me. My head was on his shoulder and his arm was around me. The ground was hard under us but I felt the most comfortable I could be at that moment.

“Well, I think so. My mom always tells us how she loves us more than anything, and Johnathan is the only brother I have. What about you?”

“My dad isn’t around much, my mom tries her best to make my life seem normal but it doesn’t always work out. I know she’s probably tearing up the town trying to find out where I am. Oh gosh I hope she doesn’t think I ran away.”

“Our bikes were left in the woods, I think they would’ve found them by now. How long has it been?” Will said, he stretched his right arm out to place behind his head as a pillow.

“A few days at least,” I said before I yawned loudly.

Will smiled, “Get some rest, I’ll take first watch.”

I pressed my nose towards his shoulder to hide my smile. Just as I began to drift off the words popped into my head. He’s my safe haven.

We were exhausted.

I think that was part of the creature's game. It wanted us to run and wear ourselves out so it could kill us easier. I tried to fight that theory with everything I could. I stocked energy drinks when we could find them, we made coffee one night to drink the next morning, anything we could to give us enough energy to run the next day.

But it wasn't enough.

________________________________________________

It finally got us.

All that running just made us fall into its trap.

Watching Will get picked up by the tentacles and dragged away from me played over in my mind. The last thing I remembered was the thing shoving some sort of gross tube down my throat. And now it just feels like I’m lucid dreaming. I saw my house, not the one in Hawkins but the one I lived in before we moved. My family was inside. I thought I was safe yet I still felt that feeling in the back of my brain. That’s when they attacked me.

The nightmares only got worse from there.

I felt myself slowly slipping away. Like a battery in my brain was slowly being drained. I fought to keep dreaming but I was getting flooded with the exhaustion and the want to give up.

Where was Will? I just wanted to be back in the sleeping bag with him. I wanted to feel his arms around me and his slow breathing in my ear.

I felt something being ripped out of me. My lungs felt like I was underwater. I felt someone pressing on my chest and I woke up coughing. I sputtered, gasped, and cried as I was lifted into someone's arms.

“(Y/n)? This is police chief Hopper. You’re safe now.”

He looked familiar. I racked my brain trying to think of where I saw him but I only had one thought on my mind. Hopper placed an oxygen mask over my face.

“Will?” I gasped out. My chest still hurt.

“He’s right here,” a woman said, she had him cradled in his arms.

I reached out to him. I needed to make sure he was still there. That this wasn’t a nightmare.

He grabbed on to my hand.

“Please don’t let go,” I sobbed.

“I promise,” he said.

And he didn’t.

Not when we were put into the car, not when we got to the hospital, not even when we were being treated. The adults just left us alone. We were put in two beds as close together as possible. At one point a doctor came in to take my vidals and tried to pull me away from him, I don’t know exactly why but I broke down. Another doctor came in and explained something about trauma bonding and PTSD.

My parents came to see me. Dad didn’t look too happy about me holding hands with a boy, but he still didn’t say anything. Apparently he quit his job at the lab.

Weeks passed by in an instant. The nightmares never stopped but they did get better. Will showed me castle Byers and we often went there after I asked him over the radio. His friends accepted the fact that I would hang around since I never wanted to be far from the Byers boy.

At one point Mike pulled me to the side, “Thank you for keeping him alive.”

“We kept each other alive.”

I never got to meet El. Which was a shame because I’d always wanted to meet a real life Jedi. But as time went on she became an afterthought. My mind stayed focussed on school and the next time I’d get to see Will again. I slowly managed to deal with my separation anxiety (as my therapist called it) and began doing my own thing most days, but I was still over at the Byers house as often as possible.

“Do you think they’ll stop?”

“Stop what?” I asked.

“The nightmares,” Will said, “Do you think they’ll stop?”

I sat the comic book I was reading down on my lap and sighed, “Maybe one day, for now I’m just so thankful that we’re alive they don’t bother me as much.”

“Can I say something?”

I looked in confusion, “You can tell me anything Will.”

“I think-” he coughed into his hand, “I think… I’m in love with you.”

I wasn’t surprised but was still left speechless. I scooted closer to him on the bed.

And we kissed.

After that, I knew there was gonna be no one else but him. No one else who will ever know what I went through, no one else who will know how I need to be held after I had a nightmare, no one else that can calm the racing thoughts I’ve had since November 6th, and no one else I would want to face the fear of something as new as relationships.

He was my safe haven.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #will byers #will byers imagine #will byers x reader #noah schnapp #noah schnapp imagine #noah schnapp x reader #carnationcreation #netflix

[schrijverr]

A Phony Boyfriend

After moving into the dorms, class 1-A discovers that Bakugo is constantly on his phone. This leads to them discovering he has a boyfriend and going on a quest to find out as much as they can while Bakugo comes to terms with the fact that High School will be different than Middle School as well as his internalized homophobia.

On AO3.

Ships: Bakudeku

Warnings: mentions of past homophobia, internalized homophobia and fear of homophobia (no one is mean to them, dont worry)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since moving into the dorms they had learned a lot about the others that they had not realized before.

Sato could bake really well, Iida had a really strict and strange work out routine, Jiro always had music in when she cooked, Momo liked tea, especially fancy tea, and Bakugo was completely glued to his phone after school.

The last one was very surprising, since Bakugo had never seemed like a phone person, usually ignoring texts and calls and never having his phone in class.

However, since they lived with him it became apparent that he was prone to typing away on his phone and ignoring everyone else in the room. He was still strict to himself about phone usage during school hours, but after school was out, it was fair game.

Naturally this made them curious to what their explosive classmate was doing on his phone, so after a few weeks Hagekure cracked. She fell on the couch next to Bakugo and asked: “What you doing?”

“Nothing,” Bakugo grumbled.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me,” she replied innocently.

Bakugo rolled his eyes and said: “Just messaging people and stuff,” before going back to ignoring her.

“Your parents?” she asked, she was gaining an audience and she wanted to deliver as the person who had been brave enough to ask what all had been wondering.

“No,” was Bakugo’s curt response.

Hagakure’s eyes lit up and she sat up in excitement and asked: “A girlfriend?”

Bakugo wrinkled his nose and again said: “No.”

At this point Mina joined the conversation, as a patented pansexual, she felt this shouldn’t be the end of the investigation. So she asked: “A boyfriend, maybe?”

The effect was instant. Bakugo’s stilled and he stopped typing as he avoided their gazes even more than before and a light blush spread across his cheeks. His scowl deepened and he growled: “Shut the fuck up.”

It didn’t work, because the two girls gasped as they exclaimed: “Oh my god!” and “You have a boyfriend?”

“I said shut up,��� Bakugo yelled, blushing even harder.

“But that’s so cute,” Hagakure whined, “You have to tell us more.”

“Yeah, Bakugo, you can’t leave us hanging after a revelation like that,” Mina pouted.

“I can and I will, now leave me alone,” Bakugo said, getting up.

“You’re not even going to tell us his name?” she asked.

“No,” Bakugo stomped off, his fingers once again dancing over the keyboard.

The two pouted harder, but didn’t pester him more. They were beyond curious, but also weren’t about to pry in their classmate’s life if he was uncomfortable with it. Still that didn’t stop them from theorizing.

“What do you think is his type?” Mina asked first.

“Probably tough and mean,” Hagakure replied, “They probably do stuff like boxing together and yell at movies.”

“Yeah, or they throw rocks and stuff,” Mina added.

“First off, this is such a weird thing to talk about,” Kirishima interrupted, “Second off, you two have no clue what people do on dates.”

“Oh, and you do, Eijiro?” Mina asked, “Do tell what you think Bakugo and his mystery boyfriend do on their dates.”

“Probably normal stuff, like drinking coffee and talking,” Kirishima shrugged, “I never really thought about my friend’s dating life.”

“You’re not even a but curious?” Hagakure asked.

“Of course I am, I’m just not going to theorize about it,” Kirishima said.

“Boring,” Mina booed, “Kaminari, Sero, Jirowhat do you think?”

“I think Bakugo would be surprisingly romantic,” said Kaminari.

“And I think you finally lost the last of your brain cells, Kaminari,” Mina jeered.

“That does seem unlikely,” Hagakure agreed.

Sero thought about it, then said: “I think he’s more of grand and flashy stuff, like his quirk. Maybe he does the flowers and stuff.”

“Where are the explosions here!” Mina complained.

“I don’t think he’s exploding his boyfriend, Mina,” Jiro pointed out.

While downstairs they were arguing about whether or not Bakugo would use explosions to be romantic, Bakugo himself was in his bedroom, panicking and calling Izu. “It must suck that you didn’t get to tell them in your own time, Kacchan,” Izu said, “But they sound like they reacted well, right?”

“I mean, yes, but what if they think it’s gross?”

“Kacchan, don’t call us gross,” Izu said sternly, “I thought you were getting better with the internalized stuff.”

“I know, I know, just- Ugh!” Kacchan let out a cry of frustration.

“It’s okay, Kacchan, I love you.”

And wasn’t that a soothing balm on all the turmoil in his brain. He couldn't help, but smile as he returned the sentiment: “I love you too, Izu.” Apause. “I’m sorry about freaking out on you, I truly love you, but I just panicked, because the class has been really cool and it would suck if they turned out to- you know?”

“I know, Kacchan, I understand,” Izu said, “But they sounded like they were cool, don’t ruin it for yourself for the small chance that they do. You’re amazing, they just have to deal with it.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” Kacchan sighed.

“Damn, I didn’t know my own boyfriend hated me all the time,” Izu teased.

“Shut up, you shitty nerd.”

“Never, Kacchan.”

“Good.” It was quiet for a moment, then Kacchan said: “I’m probably overreacting. I know that Kirishima is cool. He has two moms, loves them to death.”

“There you go,” Izu encouraged, “I like Kirishima from what you told me, he’ll be on your side if anyone’s a dick about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, he is, the idiot,” Kacchan said fondly.

“I’m so glad you made friends.”

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean? I can make friends.”

“Everyone at kindergarten was afraid of you, Kacchan.”

“You weren’t and I bet it wasn’t everyone.”

“Okay, okay, but you can be an acquired taste,” Izu conceded, “What I meant to say is that I’m glad you have people in your corner, Kacchan. You know. Now that I can’t be there with you all the time. Or hardly any time.”

Kacchan nodded, he knew how worried Izu could get about stuff and he knew what the underlying message was. He replied: “I miss you too, Izu.”

There was a small little content huff from the other side of the line, then Izu said: “I have to go eat now, Kacchan. Update me on if it goes well, okay? I love you.”

“Love you,” Kacchan said right before the line went dead. He looked at the clock and groaned, he really should be going down for dinner as well.

On a logical level, he knew most – if not all – of class 1-A would be cool about him being gay and having a boyfriend, but a small part worried that his friends would fall away and turn on him, like they’d done in Middle School.

So with slight apprehension, he made his way downstairs.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary with some bustling about to make everyone dinner and to set the table, where some were trying to quickly finish some homework. It was normal, peaceful and Bakugo was dreading its end.

Kirishima noticed him first and waved: “Oi, Bakubro, can you help me with this Math problem, Mina is being mean about it.”

“I’m not mean, he’s just stupid,” Mina protested.

All had decided to drop the subject of the mystery boyfriend for now. Especially after they’d gotten a lecture from Iida about prying into people’s business and when Fumikage had said: “Dark, the mind can be, when demons of the past have not yet been dismissed.”

It made them realize that maybe Bakugo wasn’t comfortable with the revelation and it had made them feel terrible.

So, they didn’t say a thing.

Cautiously Bakugo made his way over to Kirishima, trying to see if this was a set up or if they had really blessed him with silence.

Kirishima was really struggling with a Math problem. Bakugo knew it wasn’t a set up both because Kirishima would be too honest for it and because it was a problem he had struggled with in the past and could never seem to get.

Beside him Mina was painting her nails. Bakugo saw that her thumb and pinky were black, but the other fingers were painted in the pan flag colors. A bit of relief, loosened in his chest.

Mina saw him looking and smiled, before winking and going back to work on her other hand, while Bakugo explained to Kirishima again that if a full circle was 360 degree, half a circle would be 180 degrees, so the triangle corner couldn't be more than a 180 degrees.

During dinner it was as peaceful as it would get and Bakugo felt himself relaxing.

He didn’t stick around to figure out if the peace would last, instead fleeing to the patio out front and leaning against the wall as he watched the stars. Silently he wished Izu could be there with him and point out the constellations.

His peace was in the end broken by Kirishima, who lowered himself next to Bakugo. He was quiet for a moment, then asked: “Is he treating you right?”

“What?” Bakugo couldn't help but be slightly confused.

“The boyfriend, is he good to you?” Kirishima asked.

“Are you going to defend my honor otherwise or something,” Bakugo rolled his eyes, immensely surprised when Kirishima’s response was: “Yes, if I have to.”

It touched Bakugo’s heart in a way he wasn’t ready to deal with so he just softly said: “He is. Good, I mean. He’s very good. The best, actually. Maybe a bit better than the best.”

That made Kirishima smile. He liked that his friend had someone in his corner, who wasn’t in the middle of the chaos that was their life and could support him. He nodded: “That’s good to hear, Bakubro. I’m happy for you.”

After that it was quiet.

Then, in the softest voice, which was so vulnerable that it broke Kirishima’s heart in little pieces while simultaneously it made him want to punch someone, Bakugo asked: “You are?”

“Yeah, of course, what else should I be?”

“I- I don’t know, disappointed? Angry?” Bakugo sounded helpless in his own confusion.

“Why?”

“That it’s a he.”

Kirishima hated how quickly Bakugo had the answer to that question, so he pulled Bakugo into a side hug and said: “I will never be angry or disappointed because of that. I swear it. And no one else will be either, and if they are they’ll deal with my fists and then with the principle.”

“Thank you,” Bakugo whispered.

“No problem,” Kirishima said back.

They sat there for a moment, then Kirishima confessed: “I’ve been send by the others, because I was least likely to get blown to bits. Uhm, most wanted to say sorry for prying and also that they support you.”

Bakugo chuckled at that. In the silence he had come to terms with the fact that High School might be different and an elated feeling had loosened in his chest. He grinned: “That’s good. Did they also send you to spy?”

Kirishima blushed and quickly said: “I wasn’t going to.”

“So yes?”

“Yes.”

“Well, tell them thanks and also that it’s none of their business, but also that they will catch my hands if I hear them badmouthing him, because he’s an angel.”

“I will,” Kirishima rolled his eyes, then got up, “I’ll give you your time here. Don’t stay out too late.”

“Yes, mom,” Bakugo stuck out his tongue and got a similar gesture in return.

In the end no one saw Bakugo until the next morning, where he pretended nothing had ever happened. Though he did carry himself more lightly and Mina spotted a small rainbow key chain on his bag, which made her smile.

But since he wasn’t acknowledging it any further, neither were they. They would keep their silence until Bakugo was ready to talk about it.

However, they were also way too curious about the mysterious boy that had managed to captivate the most stand-off and anti-social person in their class. The one who had the hardest time befriending people.

He should be lucky they lasted two weeks.

After those two weeks they couldn't take it anymore. So, when Bakugo was once again typing away on his phone Mina exclaimed: “I can’t do this anymore, Bakugo you have to tell me more about your secret boyfriend. I demand to know as fellow queer in crime.”

“You demand to know as nosy asshole, raccoon,” Bakugo retorted.

“Then I demand to know as nosy asshole, just tell me something, anything,” she practically begged.

“Well, if you must know, we’re talking about All Might,” he told her.

“Is he a fan?” Mina would take any bit of information and she watched in wonder as something in Bakugo’s face turned gentle and a smile creeped up his face. He nodded: “The biggest one out there, the idiot.”

“Does he want to be a hero too?” she asked.

“Nah,” Bakugo said, “He wanted to, for a long time, but he’s actually on his way to become a nurse, specializing in hero incidents and support. Always talking about being my back up and making sure I don’t die from recklessness.”

Mina couldn't help but smile at the fond tone in Bakugo’s voice and she mentally adjusted the picture of rough-stone-throwing-hooligan to a softer yet strong teen, who carried an injured Bakugo through the streets.

“That’s so cute,” she squealed.

Bakugo rolled his eyes at her reaction, but secretly agreed. It was very cute how worked up Izu would get over his safety and how he fussed over every little injury while scolding him.

Still, he didn’t give her more information than that, because Izu had finally finished typing his half analysis, half rant over the latest All Might incident report. He was arguing that All Might was loosing power, which Bakugo thought was kinda stupid, so he had to go an tell him that.

With Mina not being completely shut down, the floodgates opened with Hagakure asking about Izu when they were sitting on the couch and Sero during lunch, while others also tried to get a bit of information out of him.

All curious about Izu.

Bakugo would never admit it to another breathing soul, except Izu, but he was touched that they cared so much. That they weren’t trying to ignore the gay part, but were actively trying to learn more about it.

“Then why don’t you say anything, Kacchan?” Izu asked after he had told him about it.

“Because I like having you for myself,” Kacchan pouted.

“Ahw, how sweet,” Izu smiled, he liked how Kacchan would say the most romantic things, just because he was honest at heart and meant it.

“Oh, shut up.”

“No, but Kacchan, it was super sweet, I like the idea of a secret romance, it’s very cute,” he smiled, “But I’m afraid you’ll have to do it by yourself, I showed my friends pictures of you and they follow me online.”

“So you do care about me,” Kacchan teased, knowing how much the other did.

“Of course, I do. You’re the greatest and I love you very much.”

“Love you too.”

“Did you manage to get permission to leave next weekend? Because I can make it home as well and mom promised she’ll make both curry and katsudon, if you come over,” Izu said.

“I still have to hear back from Aizawa-sensei,” he replied, “But I really want to. I need to ask auntie her recipe, mine hasn’t been turning out like hers.”

“You made curry?”

“Yeah, it was my turn to cook and I wanted curry,” Kacchan shrugged.

“That’s so funny to picture,” Izu giggled.

The sound of his boyfriend’s giggles made his heart lighter, but he still said: “Oi, what’s that supposed to mean, I’m a good cook!”

“I guess you’ll have to show me sometime.”

“I will, just you wait.”

“Looking forward to it.” There was a short lull in conversation, then Izu asked: “Have you been eating alright? Since you have to cook, are the others doing their part? A good diet is important, especially with all the physical stuff you have to do. We’re currently having a nutrition course and I’m worried about you.”

“I’m eating fine, Izu, promise,” Kacchan said, “There have been a few we had to ban from the kitchen, but we’re eating fine. I was about to grab a snack actually.”

“Good to hear. What are you grabbing?”

“I don’t know yet. And I’m not grabbing it just now, I’m still talking to you and that’s way more fun.”

“Why can’t you do both?”

“What?”

“I mean, I think I can survive it if you grab a snack while talking to me, Kacchan. I believe in your multitasking skills.”

“That’s not the concern, Izu,” Kacchan whined.

“Ahw, come on. Pretty please, Kacchan? I can help you pick a snack! I have my notes here, I know everything about ultimate snacking,” Izu was starting to get excited, “Just tell me what you’ve eaten and I’ll figure out what nutrients you missed today. They gave us charts.”

Kacchan knew the moment that hint of excitement crept into Izu’s voice, he would be sold. He just couldn't say no to that, so he relented: “Okay, okay,” before telling Izu what he wanted to know and going to the kitchen.

A few of his classmates that were still left at that hour looked up when he entered, some raising their brow at the phone squished between his shoulder and ear. To those he gave a middle finger, because he was too busy listening to Izu ramble to want to talk to them.

“So, what options do we have?” Izu’s voice rang in his ear.

“Got some leftover rice, pocky, umeboshi, some peaches and taiyaki,” he listed, “And like condiments and raw stuff, but I’m not cooking.”

As the only one of their friends here Kaminari was listening in and getting more confused by the second. Why would Bakugo be listing what they had in their kitchen of all things?

Kacchan waited as he listened, before saying: “Oh, really?”

His voice was genuine as if he was interested in the answer he received. He grabbed the rice and listened to whatever the person on the other side of the line was saying.

Then Kacchan said: “You’d do that for me?” a beat, “Wait, wait a second, idiot. I don’t have anything to write here. No, you don’t have to type it out, I can write,” then he hurried up the stairs with his bowl.

The next morning Kaminari asked what that was about and Bakugo shrugged: “Izu’s taking a course about nutrients, he made me an eating chart.”

“Izu?” Kaminari repeated, thinking it was a professional Bakugo went to to stay in shape. He didn’t think it improbably that Bakugo would call a professional idiot.

But then Bakugo blushed and cursed slightly and even Kaminari could put together who the name actually belonged to.

His eyes went wide with the realization.

Bakugo had been secretive about his boyfriend, telling everyone to stop being nosy dicks, which did not at all discourage anyone from trying to find out more, curiosity being fulled by mystery.

Kaminari did the smart thing and stopped talking, only mentioning it to the other during lunch, which surprisingly Bakugo did nothing with.

He didn’t mind that much, he was just scared that if ‘boyfriend’ actually became a person, people would freak out, but so far they all had been nice and Izu was encouraging him to get out of his shell and find confidence in who he was. He also felt like Izu deserved all the praise and not someone who he thought was ashamed of him.

Because he wasn’t.

Bakugo was incredibly proud of his boyfriend, who was not only a lovely and amazing person, but also very talented and deeply caring, while managing to be smart on top of it all.

So when during lunch Kaminari - albeit with an apologetic look - asked: “Izu pick that out for you?” he just sighed, before nodding.

Mina perked up immediately and looked between Bakugo and Kaminari, then back, before her eyes got big with excitement and she asked: “Izu is your boyfriend’s name?”

Deciding to just give in on that point, he explained: “Yeah, well, it’s- it’s a nickname, but it feels weird to say his full name.”

“And I’m guessing you’re not going to give us his full name so we can look him up,” she pouted, already scrolling through the location tag of Bakugo’s home to see if she could find a username with Izu in it.

“No,” Bakugo chuckled, “And you’re not finding him there either. He’s in Tokyo right now.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s becoming a nurse right?” Kirishima recalled.

“Isn’t there that really big nursing school in Tokyo?” Jiro commented, “I heard it’s very prestigious.”

“It is,” Bakugo bragged, “Izu got in top of his class.”

“That’s so cool,” Kaminari said, “Your eating schedule must be super good then.”

Bakugo nodded: “Yeah, he was already working on it. He picked me to focus on for the hero they would have to make a schedule for. He’s an idiot, but it’s sweet, I guess.”

“Ahww,” some of the others commented, before the conversation moved on from there.

He was in a good mood with his friends remembering stuff he’d told them and getting to brag about his boyfriend a bit. A boyfriend that he would probably see that weekend.

The very next day that was gone, he came into class with Aizawa, arguing with his teacher: “You have to let me go, sir. Why can’t I go? Please, you don’t understand.”

“I understand Bakugo, but whatever you have planned can wait another week,” Aizawa said.

“It can’t, it has to be this week.”

“Then I’m very sorry for you, but too many students are already leaving, there just isn’t a spot free. It happens,” Aizawa explained.

“But sir-”

“No, Bakugo, end of discussion,” Aizawa cut him off, leaving Bakugo frustrated and upset. He had his fist and jaw clenched and he was hunched in a fighting stand while simultaneously managing to look very small.

“Bakubro?” Kirishima asked tentatively, “What happened?”

He didn’t want to be this upset, but he had fucking missed Izu so much and he had been looking forwards to it and then it had been crushed right before his eyes. Much to his horror tears were beginning to gather in his eyes.

“Bro?” Kirishima asked again.

“I can’t go home this weekend,” he finally managed to get out, fighting off the tears, “Izu gets to go home too this weekend and we were going to spend it together. I- I just want to see him again, but the spots to go home for the weekend are already full.”

“Oh, Bakugo, that must suck so hard,” Mina sympathized.

Others had similar sentiments, no one had ever seen the explosive blond like that. Then help came from the most unlikely source, Todoroki. He said: “You can have my slot.”

“Really?” Bakugo asked, not even insulting the other boy.

Todorokithought of the awkward and painful family dinner he would have to attend, before nodding firmly: “Yeah, I have nothing important. It can be rescheduled easily.”

“Thank you, Icy-Hot,” Bakugo grinned, lighting up immediately.

Henodded back and that was the end of the conversation.

The weekend came and Bakugo practically ran out of the dorm Friday afternoon, yelling a quick goodbye and muttering something about train arrivals when he passed.

He was on time for the train, even managing to snatch up some flowers on his way to the station and before he knew it, he had an excited green haired boy in his arms again.

It all passed by much faster than Bakugo wanted and before he knew it he was walking back into UA with only memories of doing homework together, picnicking in the park they used to explore as kids, whispering till deep in the night and laughing together in the kitchen.

When he got back the others noticed how he carried himself slightly different and they tried to pry details out of during lunch. He told them nothing more besides: “It was fun.”

Until they were in the dorms and Bakugo walked up to Todoroki, obviously not wanting to, with something in his hands. He trusted out a little packed and said: “Izu would be mad if I didn’t give these to you. They’re a thank you for giving up your spot.”

“Oh, uhm, thank you…” Todoroki said, inspecting the packet.

“They’re cookies, dumbass. You’ve seen those before,” Bakugo snapped.

Mina jumped on his back and cooed: “Ahw, did Izu make cookies.”

“More, me and auntie,” Bakugo snorted, “Izu can do much, but he’s a disaster in the kitchen. He manged to burn water once, that was an experience.”

“I didn’t know you can bake,” Sero said.

“It’s not really I do often and auntie is better at it, I just know how not to burn stuff,” Bakugo shrugged.

“The opposite of your quirk,” Kaminari joked, getting some laughs.

“But you and Izu baked together?” Mina got them back on topic, “What else did you do?”

“None of your business, raccoon,” Bakugo informed her, finally getting her off his back.

She shrugged: “Worth a try.”

“Can I see the cookies, Todoroki?” Hagakure asked.

“Oh, sure,” Todoroki showed her the cookies and she giggled: “They’re All Might shaped.”

“Really?” other went to go see and the cookies were indeed in the shape of All Might’s head with pink icing on it.

“It was the only one we had,” Bakugo blushed, omitting that there had been heart shaped ones as well and he had a packet of those himself that Izu decorated, while he had decorated the ones Izu had taken with him to Tokyo.

After the others tricked Todoroki out of most of his cookies, they went to get started on all the homework they’d gotten today.

Everyone had been nothing but positive about his boyfriend, even his self appointed nemesis had given up his own weekend home for him to go see Izu. With all the nice reactions, Bakugo was pretty certain it wouldn’t be a repeat of Middle School and was commenting more and more about things related to Izu.

He commented that Izu would have loved seeing everyone training to upgrade their quirk, because he loved quirks in general, but especially weaknesses and how they could turn on the user and how to avoid that.

And he explained that katsudon was Izu’s favourite food when they asked him how he’d gotten so good at making it.

But all the good things couldn't stop the bad nights that still plagued him.

So when he had awoken from a nightmare, he called Izu awake, knowing that the other told him to not feel guilty about and to just do it.

In the end he found himself on the kitchen floor, feeling much calmer while Izu finished his story of what a classmate had done that day. When he was done it was quiet for a moment, then Kacchan softly said: “Thank you, Izu.”

“Of course, Kacchan. Try to sleep, okay?” Izu replied, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Kacchan returned, before hanging up.

After he’d hung up, he noticed a form in the doorway. He looked up and saw Kirishima standing in the doorway in his pajama pants. He looked like a deer in headlight and said: “I haven’t been listening in, I just got here.”

“It’s fine,” Bakugo sighed, “free world.”

“Hey, are you okay?” Kirishima noticed the state Bakugo was in.

“No, I just like calling my boyfriend in the middle of the night while he needs his rest as well for fun,” he said sarcastically.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t worry, just tired,” Bakugo rubbed his eyes, regretting snapping at Kirishima, when the cheery boy was one of the last people to deserve it.

Kirishima sat down next to him and said: “It’s okay. I can’t imagine you’re here because you want to be.”

“Tell me about it,” Bakugo rolled his eyes, “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“Nah, I got thirsty,” Kirishima said, “Do you want to talk about what woke you up?”

“Not really, Izu already forced me to tell him that was enough for one night,” Bakugo told him, “I was gathering the energy to go back to sleep again.”

“Good that you’re at least talking to someone,” Kirishima said, “Here, I’m making us tea, then we’ll go back to bed together. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

They didn’t speak of the meeting the next morning nor after that, but Kirishima did take up the habit of asking Bakugo if he’d slept well, earning him an eyeroll and Bakugo telling he already had one mother hen in his life.

Though he did answer every time.

It was just life in the dorms. Everyone had gotten used to living with the others and slowly they were becoming more comfortable with each other and turning into a slightly dysfunctional and highly chaotic family.

Which meant that by the time Bakugo was comfortable calling Izu in the common area the others had no qualms about interrupting him.

He had called Izu more often, but usually walked out of the room after a few minutes. However that time period had become longer and longer and he had been talking to Izu for nearly 45 minutes already, mostly telling him about his own day and listening to Izu talk about his.

Right now the conversation had wondered to a recent villain take-down by The Lurkers and the strategy team up of Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods.

So, Mina walked over and whined: “This is boring, Bakugo. Here, gimme the phone,” as she grabbed for his phone.

He ducked and shouted: “Oi, raccoon, leave me the fuck alone.”

“But Bakugo, I wanna talk to Izu,” Mina pouted, grabbing for the phone again, “You’re being boring and it’s not fun to listen in if you’re talking about heroes. We already hear about heroes constantly.”

“You’re not talking to him, piss off,” Bakugo danced away from Mina’s hand, but she was on his tail and they were running around the table.

As they ran Izu’s confused voice came over the speaker: “Kacchan?”

“Sorry, Izu, I’m being chased!” Bakugo yelled.

“Are you okay?” Izu asked concerned.

“Yeah, just a raccoon on my tale.”

“I’m not a raccoon!”

“You mean Mina?” Izu laughed.

“Yes!” Bakugo yelpedright as he tripped onto the couch. Mina immediate took the chance and jumped to wrestle the phone out of his hands.

Success.

She ran off with her prize, holding the phone to her ear as she greeted: “Hi, Izu! I don’t know your full name, but I’m Mina, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi, Mina, I’m Izuku,” a light and friendly voice greeted her.

“Bakugo only ever gives us grains about you,” Mina said, “So, tell me more.”

“Oh, uhm, I- I don’t really know. I- uh, I like heroes, you were really cool at the sports festival, I was really rooting for you,” Izu answered, voice getting more steady once he got talking about her quirk, “I do hope you’re immune to your own acid or that would be a problem.”

“It’s not a problem, but it’s fun that your brain jumps to that with you becoming a hero nurse,” Mina said.

“Oh, haha, didn’t even realize that,” Izuku chuckled awkwardly.

At this point Bakugo had freed himself from Sero and Kaminari, who had aided Mina in her quest to talk to Izuku and was going after her again, while having the two boys on his own trail, who in turn had Kirishima after them to stop them from stopping Bakugo.

Mina set off running again, panting into the phone: “Your boyfriend is chasing me, help. What do I say to calm him down? You’re the Bakugo whisperer.”

Izuku laughed at that, before telling her to put him on speaker. She did and he called out: “Kacchan, Kacchan!”

“Nerd,” Bakugo yelled back, “Are you okay.”

“I’m fine, Kacchan,” Izuku shouted back, “It’s fun, come on, it’s not the end of the world. Pinky promise I won’t tell them about the ant incident.”

Bakugo stopped chasing Mina, much to her delight and surprise. He just walked over to her, no more threatening steps, and just said: “You promise?”

“I promise,” Izuku said, “You can put me on speaker and I can say hi to people. I heard so much about them, but never even said hi. Pretty please?”

“Okay, okay.”

Sero coughed: “Whipped,” and subsequently got an elbow in the side from Mina, who didn’t want this opportunity to get taken from her.

Bakugo took the phone back and walked to the couch, where he sat down. Mina, Hagaure, Kaminari, Sero and Kirishima all crouched around the phone and Jiro also made her way over from where she had been ignoring most of the chaos.

Izuku greeted everyone first: “Hi, I’m Midoriya Izuku, it’s nice to meet you all, whoever is there with Kacchan right now.”

Kaminari giggled: “Kacchan.”

“Shut up,” Bakugo blushed.

“I’m Kaminari Denki,” Kaminari ignored Bakugo.

“I m Kirishima Eijiro.” Kirishima said cheerily, “Hi!”

“Sero Hanta, nice to meet you.”

“And I’m Hagakure Toru, I’m so excited to hear from you.”

“Oh, and I’m Jiro Kyoka,” Jiro added.

“And I’m still here as well!” Mina said.

“Hello everyone,” there was clearly a smile in Midoriya’s voice, “I’ll try to remember all your names, some are familiar, so I think I’ll manage, but sorry if I mess up.”

“Of course, no problem,” Hagakure said.

“Do you have anything embarrassing about Bakugo we could use against him?” Kaminari asked.

“Probably,” Midoriya said, “Though, I don’t know if he’ll like metelling you. He can be a bit grumpy when I turn on him and I would like to keep my cuddle privileges.”

“I doubt you can loose them with how Bakugo raves on about you,” Kirishima said, hardening his side for the elbow he knew was coming.

“Ahw, he talks about me?” Midoriya said.

“It’s adorable,” Hagakure told him.

“That’s so nice to hear. He was really scared of opening up, it’s good that he’s comfortable around you all. You’re really good friends, even if he isn’t the best at telling you all,” Midoriya was audibly relieved and the ones around the phone were strangely proud of making that tone appear.

“And we’re glad he has you to talk to,” Kirishima added, “You sound really manly and cool, bro.”

“You guys done with your circle jerk,” Bakugo grouched.

“Don’t be mean, Kacchan,” Midoriya admonished.

“How did you two meet?” Mina asked, not minding a topic change.

“We’ve always known each other,” Midoriya said, “We lived in the same neighborhood and played in the same playground since we were little. High School is the first time we’ve been apart for so long ever.”

“Ahw, a childhood friends to lovers trope,” Hagakure gushed.

“Kind of, yeah,” Midoriya laughed.

“We still didn’t get the embarrassing stories,” Kaminari whined as Sero loudly agreed, much to Bakugo’s displeasure.

“Well, there was that time with the cold,” Midoriya mused.

“Izu, no,” Bakugo said horrified.

“Midoriya, please tell us!” the others cheered.

“Sorry, Kacchan, majority rules,” Midoriya said, a bit of little shit shining through, “So, Kacchan had a cold, but he came to school anyway, because he’s an idiot.”

“I take offense to that.”

“Than take offense, babe, it was stupid,” Midoriya shot back, “He had no voice at all left, Little Mermaid style, and was carrying around a notebook to communicate. He had a bit of a croak left, but he definitely shouldn’t be talking.”

They were all listening closely, except for Bakugo who was pouting and leaning back, but he wasn’t interrupting. He liked listening to Izu talk even if it was to embarrass him in front of his friends.

“But then some kids came up to me during recess,” Midoriya went on, “And they were calling me names, just being mean, not important.”

“It is important, they were dicks,” Bakugo groused.

“Yeah, Kacchan, I know, but it’s not now the point, don’t deflect,” Midoriya said, “So, Kacchan comes to save me, very sweet of him, my own prince in shining armor.”

Hagakure, Mina and Kirishima cooed at that.

“However, while it was very sweet, Kacchan had forgotten that he didn’t have a voice,” there was a bit laughter, “So, when he came running, yelling, there was no yelling, just a soft little long croak like so.”

Midoriya imitated a frog like croak, causing more laughter and giggles.

“And that wasn’t even the end, because the little croak didn’t stop him. He pushed them away and told them they were dick bags, but all that came out was bags,” Midoriya finished, “He was Mr. Bagsfor weeks.”

There were peels of laughter and chocked off repeated of ‘Mr. Bags’ while Bakugo pushed them away with a ‘shut up.’

“Tells us more, tell us more,” was chanted, but then a sort of loud alarm went of in the background.

Bakugo seized the phone and asked: “Are you okay, Izu?”

“I’m fine, Kacchan,” Midoriya didn’t sound shaken or scared, which calmed everyone, “It’s a training exercise. Some second years told me about it, it’s because you can’t count on normal hours when supporting heroes and they can need you at any moment. I have to go respond to the call. Talk to you later. It was nice to meet you all. Love you, Kacchan.”

“Love you too. Good luck,” Bakugo was just in time before Midoriya hung up.

It was quiet for a moment, then Kaminari chocked: “Kacchan,” and everyone lost it again.

“Oh, shut up, he started calling me that when we were like three,” Bakugo rolled his eyes, but he couldn't mind the laughter that much after talking with Izu and his friends being nice to his boyfriend after all the shit he had meeting new people.

“Midoriya is such a sweetheart,” Hagakure told him, “He’s such a pleasant person.”

“Yeah, not at all Mr. Stone Thrower, I imagined him to be,” Mina agreed.

“Stone thrower?” Bakugo frowned.

“You don’t wanna know,” Kirishima told him and Bakugo decided it would be better not to ask, so he just said: “Alright. But Izu isn’t that sweet. Well, he is, of course, but he can be a little shit. Didn’t you just hear him, be mean to me?”

“Ahw, little Kacchan has a boo-boo on his ego,” Kaminari managed before Bakugo jumped him.

“Don’t call me Kacchan,” he yelled.

“What else should we call you then,” Sero grinned from the couch, “Mr. Bags.”

“I hate you all!”

“But we’re really good friends, Bakubro,” Kirishima teased.

“Not you too. I’ll kill you,” Bakugo screamed, but no one could take his threats seriously after the sweet and kind voice of Midoriya had just told them how much Bakugo secretly cares about them and called him ‘Kacchan.’

Later Mina would pout and tell him she couldn't find Midoriya Izuku anywhere online and Bakugo would grin and shrug, not sharing that his boyfriend’s username was @AllMightssuperfan everywhere. Izu had been religious about online safety and had never shared his name on any of his accounts.

And the next time he was calling with Izu, multiple people told him to say hi, with Sero grinning: “Tell your nice half hi from me.”

He was glad that the others liked Izu. His boyfriend had had enough trouble with people being mean to him for no reason, but his friends had taken a liking to him almost instantly.

Though they seem to have a mental picture of Izu in which he was a sweetheart. This in itself wasn’t a lie, Izu was one of the kindest people Kacchan knew, but it wasn’t just kindness. The other could be ruthless if he was angry and was a bigger trouble magnet than Kacchan with a dose of little shit built in permanently.

Still, Bakugo was trying to think of a way to introduce his friends to his boyfriend, but with the safety measures surrounding UA that was more difficult than expected.

Luckily it soon happened by chance.

Class 1-A would be going to a training exercise in Tokyo, where they would learn to be mindful of property destruction and building safety.

The training exercise would have taught them how to spot when a building was about to fall, how certain walls and pillars were integral to the structure staying upright and how they could see if there were important electric wires or water lines in the ground.

However, it was Class 1-A and things never really went the way they wanted and planned, so naturally the class was attacked while at the training facility that lay between multiple schools in the area.

Though, since it was also Class 1-A they had enough experience to fight off the attack without any life-threatening injuries. So, they were only mildly scraped up and injured by the time they defeated the villains.

They were barely catching their breath when a form of green was running towards them, multiple people on their trail. As the person got closer they heard them yell: “Kacchaaaaan!!”

Bakugo whipped his head up and Kirishima, Mina and Jiro dredged themselves up into a protective stance at this newcomer, until Momo commented: “Huh, that’s the uniform of the nursing school nearby.”

That comment and name tickled something in the back of their minds, but they were tired and the pieces wouldn’t yet click.

The person was nearby and they saw it was a green haired boy with freckles and a face that was more prone to laughter even if it was frowning now. He shouldered past Kirishima and Mina, who were in his way more prominently, before kneeling next to Bakugo and grabbing the first aid kit that hung around his shoulder.

“Hey,” Kirishima said, though he didn’t stop the boy, seeing that he was friendly.

“Izu?” Bakugo said, horridly confused.

At that everyone turned and looked at the boy, wide eyes as finally it all added up. He had called Bakugo Kacchan and wore the uniform of a Tokyo nursing school. With Bakugo identifying him, it was easy to see that this was his boyfriend.

However, before any of the could react, Midoriya was scolding Bakugo: “You absolute, idiot. Do you know how worried I was? We got a warning there was a villain attack ongoing and then I heard yourexplosions and when I looked out the window I saw you fall. You know better than to go that high.”

“I’m sorry, Izu, but-”

“You can save your sorry, Kacchan,” Izu huffed, “Let me check you over first. Are there any spots you landed on or that ache?”

“My ribs,” Kacchan decided it was better to let his boyfriend fuss, feeling bad about worrying the already natural anxious boy.

The rest of the class stood in shocked silence at the interaction. Then the people following Midoriya arrived, apologizing to Aizawa as one explained: “Midoriya ran out before we could stop him, I apologize on his behalf as class president. We’re Class 1-A of Tokyo School of Nursing, nearby. We also came to help if needed, but we’re only first years.”

They showed their first aid kits and Aizawa said: “It’s fine, I suppose. Don’t cause any trouble. I’ll see if we can get police on sight and medical professionals with a license.”

“I’m sure a few of our teachers will be here soon, but we’ll see what we can do,” the class president bowed along with the other four students that had run after Midoriya, before setting to work, checking everyone over and tending to their wounds when possible.

Kirishima and Mina were being looked over, while gawking at Bakugo and Midoriya. Midoriya had checked over Bakugo’s ribs and bandaged them and was now cleaning the cuts on his face, while saying: “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Sorry, Izu,” Kacchan replied, “I don’t mean to get caught up in these things.”

“I know and I’m going to have to get used to this, aren’t I?” Izu sniffled, “I just saw you fall and I reacted before I even knew.”

“Hey, I’ll be more careful, promise,” Kacchan said.

“You better, I’m telling on you to auntie next time I see her, maybe I’ll even call her tonight and next time you’re over we’re not eating curry,” Izu’s jaw set, “I’m pissed at you for throwing your life so easily in the balance. I thought your whole thing was to learn to save people, include yourself in the definition of people.”

“I do that!” Kacchan squawked indignantly.

“Sure, whatever you say, Kacchan,” Izu obviously didn’t believe him, “That’s why you always died a dramatic death every time we played hero.”

“You were just as dramatic, weeping over my death,” Kacchan protested.

“Of course, my knight in shining armor disappeared,” Izu laughed, “Now, you need to watch those wounds. I don’t think they need stitches, but I would advise against touching them and make sure they don’t start to get infected. The moment they show signs of swelling, discoloration or heating up, you go tell someone.”

Kacchan listened closely to the instructions and Izu finished: “Also try not to put any strain on your ribs. No sudden movements, no jumping, no twisting. Rest them. You hear me, Kacchan, rest.”

“Yeah,” Kacchan nodded, before smirking, “But you forgot something.”

“What?” Izu frowned, going over the steps mentally, trying to figure out what he skipped and how Kacchan would even know that.

“You still have to kiss it better,” Kacchan informed him with a grin.

Izu sighed, but there was a small smile playing around his lips as he said: “That’s not very professional, now is it, Mr. Bakugo?”

“I think you can hardly call that scolding you just gave me professional, angel,” Kacchan shot back.

“Touche,” Izu agreed, before leaning in and kissing the scrapes on Kacchans knuckles and cheek, before kissing him on his lips and whispering, “I’m not kissing your ribs in public.”

At that Kacchan blinked the dazed, sappy look out of his eyes and remembered his class was right there and he wasn’t alone with his boyfriend. With the elation of seeing Izu wearing off and making way for embarrassment, he blushed heavily.

“Ahw, blush-y Kacchan, so cute,” Izu commented, not at all feeling bad for his boyfriend’s embarrassment.

Mina practically skipped forward when the student tending to the gash in her arm finally let her go. She stuck out her hand: “I’m Ashido Mina, we met on the phone, I believe.”

“Midoriya Izuku, you’d be correct,” Midoriya smiled, shaking her hand, “Kacchan really told me so much about you all, it’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“And I’m Kirishima Eijiro,” Kirishima wanted to make contact, before either Bakugo or Aizawa dragged them away.

“Oh, hi!” Midoriya said, “Kacchan was right about the hair being dramatic, I like your costume. It fits really well.”

“Ah, thanks,” Kirishima blushed, “It’s Crimson Riot inspired.”

“You’re a fan?” Midoriya asked, “Good choice, he’s great. Him during All Mights Silver Age was unrivaled. Their team up was so cool.”

“I know right,” Kirishima was glad someone saw how right his opinion was.

“Enough boring bullshit,” Mina pushed him away, “I want to get your social media @ because I couldn't find you anywhere.”

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” Midoriya rubbed the back of his head, “It’s @AllMightssuperfan.”

She quickly typed something, before grinning: “Now I’m following you. I have to say it’s been a trip to meet you.”

“I can imagine thatno one thought this would be the meeting, yes,” Midoriya smiled.

Bakugo walked up behind him, not liking his boyfriend leaving him for his friends. He put his head on Midoriya’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around Midoriya’s waist, not letting up his scowl as he said: “You’re also an idiot for running towards an active attack.”

“It was already ending by the time I arrived,” Midoriya waved it away.

“I can still be mad about that,” Bakugo pouted.

“Suppose you can,” Midoriya shrugged, leaning his head against Bakugo’s, “I will try to be more careful, but just as your job is going to become running into danger, mine is going to be running after you.”

“Ahww,” Hagakure gushed, finally having made her way over to the other.

Midoriya looked confused for a moment at the sound of a new voice before he spotted the gloves, then he greeted: “You must be Hagakure Toru.”

“I am!”

“You’re not injured are you?” Midoriya frowned, “It would be hard to see if you’re hit.”

“Ah, yes, it would,” Hagakure said, “But don’t worry, I’m fine!”

“That’s good to hear,” Midoriya smiled, before he mused to himself, “There isn’t really much training about what to do when you can’t see the patient, say that she ever gets knocked unconscious.”

“Stop mumbling, Izu,” Bakugo snapped him out of it.

“Oh, sorry, I get caught up in my head,” Midoriya apologized.

But before he could get back to talking with Bakugo’s classmates a severe looking lady sternly called out: “Midoriya Izuku, come here right now.”

Midoriya stiffened, before whispering: “That’s my homeroom teacher. Sorry, gotta go,” the he hurried over to the lady.

She put her hands on her hips, before scolding: “What on earth were you thinking, running off in the middle of class like that? Towards a fight, no less. That was very dangerous young man and you will be punished accordingly.”

“Sorry, sensei,” Midoriya said softly, then he looked up defiantly, “But I still stand by my decision to run.”

“What?” the teacher exclaimed, along with a few bystanders.

Kirishima hissed into Bakugo’s ear: “What is he doing? He’s already in trouble.”

Bakugo smiled, looking a bit proud, then answered: “He might be an idiot, but he is an idiot with a heart. If he thinks he did the right thing, he will stand by it.”

“If we’re just going of response,” Midoriya indeed defended himself, “I was here first. Actual licensed medical professionals had to be called after the fact. You always press how importance time is and how it can save or costs life, sensei. We got extra experience and ensured that if there had been serious injuries, we could hold down the fort until an ambulance got here.”

The teacher hesitated, then her shoulders sagged slightly. She smiled gently then said: “I appreciate your fire, Midoriya. Still we’re responsible for you and this was a very dangerous thing to do. You could have been hurt as well.”

“I wouldn’t, Kacchan would have protected me,” Midoriya stated as if it was a fact, “But I understand, sensei. I will accept any punishment you see fit and I will try not to do it again.”

“That’s all I can ask,” the teacher said, she understood a bit better, having heard the nickname ‘Kacchan’ many times when her students could talk during her classes.

“Kacchan?” Aizawa asked, having joined the teacher to also scold the boy, “You mean Bakugo Katsuki?”

“Yes, I’m his boyfriend,” Midoriya smiled sweetly, making Bakugo blush when Aizawa looked his way and as his friends jeered.

“Well, then I think you’re quite right in your assessment of the Problem Child,” Aizawa said, “But it was still dangerous.”

“I understand, Eraser Head,” Midoriya bowed again, “Still, thank you for keeping him safe and not turning away our help.”

“And thank you for your help, despite the illogical reason behind it,” Aizawa said, “Now, I want to speak to your teacher, so enjoy the time with Bakugo, please do not do anything more stupid and stay in sight.”

Midoriya blushed, but said nothing, just bowing before rushing back to Bakugo.

“I would have protected you, would I?” Bakugo teased when he returned.

“Shut up, you would,” Midoriya pouted.

“Yeah, I would,” Bakugo said proudly.

“You actually talked back to Aizawa,” Kirishima said and Hagakure asked: “Weren’t you scared? He’s so intimidating at first.”

“It was terrifying, I don’t know why I did that,” Midoriya’s face was anxiety filled.

“Because you knew you were right,” Bakugo said, kissing his forehead, “You did well standing up for yourself. Hope you won’t be in too much trouble.”

Midoriya smiled at Bakugo’s encouragement. He waved the concern away: “Sensei is more bark than bite. She looks sterner than she is, she was just concerned after I ran out of class.”

“I can understand that,” Hagakure said.

“So manly,” Kirishima commented.

At that Midoriya giggled: “You actually do say it. I thought Kacchan was being dramatic about it. Sorry that sounded rude, I think it’s fun actually.”

“He talks about us?” Mina asked.

“Of course,” Midoriya sounded surprised at the question, “He talks about everyone in your class. It’s sometimes like I know all of you already. I’m very impressed with how far all of you’ve come in comparison to the start of the year. Kacchan tells me how hard you all work.”

Mina pulled him into a hug and said: “You’re so cute, Midoriya. I am so messaging you online, we need to be friends.”

“I’d love that,” Midoriya smiled.

Bakugo pulled Midoriya back and scowled: “Stop pulling on my boyfriend. I haven’t seen him in weeks, piss off.”

“Sharing is caring, Bakubro,” Kirishima teased.

“Sharing can go fuck itself,” Bakugo grouched and Midoriya snorted, before saying: “Missed you too, babe.”

They continued talking until Midoriya was called back to go to class. Kacchan and Izu drew out their goodbye for as long as they could manage until Izu had to stop waving and Kacchan disappeared out of sight.

Class 1-A mentally adjusted the image they had both of Bakugo and Midoriya.

Seeing Bakugo be himself completely, taking a scolding with understanding and demanding kisses from his boyfriend, added a layer to the grumpy boy they usually saw.

Midoriya had already undergone an entire transformation in the minds of most. From the stone throwing boyfriend they had imagined to gentle giant to the defiant yet kind person they had met today, who would do what was right, but still only lost that last bit of anxiousness when he was with Bakugo.

They were excited for him to graduate and hoped to see him have their backs again in the future.

~

A/N:

Idk if my idea for Midoriya really came through, but I imagine that hero agencies have personal medical staff to ensure that there will be medical aid if hospitals have a crisis or if the injuries aren’t big enough for injuries. These will be educated for quirk related injuries and since Izu is becoming one to support Kacchan, he will try and focus his assignments on his boyfriend, which is allowed after the sports festival.

I’m not keeping to canon bc I want them to actually meet Izu and I really wanted it to go like this, so a weird extra attack thingy it is. At first, I wanted to do something with the provisional hero license exam, but I felt it wouldn’t go well with the fic.

One thing, I really like it imagining how Bakugo would be if he didn’t have a festering resentment that grew for years, but instead actual support. And how Midoriya would be if he had a chance to develop confidence.

#RR writing #tw: internalized homophobia #tw: past homophobia #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakudeku #bakugo x midoriya #kacchan x deku #bakugo katsuki #quirkless midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku #kirishima eijiro #ashido mina #hagakure tooru #denki kaminari #jirou kyouka #sero hanta #aizawa shota #aizawa shouta #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #deku #bnha class 1a #bhna midoriya #bnha deku

[missdawnandherdusk]

I Will Rise

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

You can take everything I have

You can break everything I am

Like I'm made of glass

Like I'm made of paper

Go on and try to tear me down

I will be rising from the ground

Chapter 1     Chapter 2    

Chapter 3    Chapter 4

Chapter 5     Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Summary: With the next winter holiday things get to their lowest point. But rock bottom is always the place to start building up. 

A/N: So this was supposed to be super angsty with no end in sight but ya know, I changed my mind. This is angsty don’t get me wrong, but this is also where choices are made and people are changed for the better or worse. Sidenote: I just ended a four year relationship yesterday and ya know. I’m great. Anyway. Love yall!! Let me know that you think as always!!

Draco and I stood at the Manor gates. Dark clouds rolled in, suffocating us. They threatened with snow, ice, and fury.

“It’s the Dark Magic,” Draco noted, his voice seemingly indifferent, taking my hand.

I nodded, sighing. Something was to be said about missing sunny days and warmth. Even in the dead of winter, this chill sat differently on our shoulders. Winter promised spring... this artic promised nothing but death.

Inside and unpacked, Draco and I shared a bit of tea in front of a warm fire. He was reading The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe aloud, and despite my adoration of the book, I couldn’t seem to lose myself in the words as I once had. Even with the silkiness of Draco’s voice. I now had a deeper understanding for Narnians before the events of the book. An endless winter with only a small gossamer of hope to cling too.

“Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,

At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,

When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,

And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.”

The words mocked me. Draco seemed to pick up on my disinterest.

“Don’t tell me you don’t prefer the book any longer?” There was a soft teasing smile on his lips as he closed the book, setting it on his lap. It was the one I had given him almost a year ago.

“No, I do,” It was a sad sigh. “I just... do you think someone is out there for us? An Aslan to come and save us?” I hugged my knees.

“Well, you know as well as I do,” He took the same book and flipped further back before settling on a page that seemed to satisfy him.

"Dearest," said Aslan very gently, "you and your brother will never come back to Narnia."

"Oh, Aslan!!" said Edmund and Lucy both together in despairing voices.

"You are too old, children," said Aslan, "and you must begin to come close to your own world now."

"It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"

"But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan. "Are — are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund.

"I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there."

A smile brushed my lips as he closed the book again.

“But do you think that was meant for us?” I laid my head on his shoulder.

“I think that it was meant to give hope,” Draco decided after a quiet moment, “Aslan, by any other name, would still be something to believe in,”

“Unless that name happens to be Harry Potter,” I chuckled, drawing a laugh from Draco. “And have you been reading my Shakespeare?”

“Maybe a bit,” A smile toyed at his lips.

“Romeo and Juliet though?” I rolled my eyes. “I told you, it wasn’t a good story to read presently,”

“I think you also told me that it was worth keeping the books that didn’t have a happy ending,” Draco set the book on the coffee table and pulled me into his hold.

“Do you think we’ll have one?” I asked softly. “A happy ending?” His face was hard to read as his eyes fixed on the burning fire.

“How can we with what we’re going to do?” The words echoed in my thoughts as we both sobered.

The plea for him to not do what he was asked of came rushing to my lips, but I held them there. I wouldn’t tell him. I had decided on that long ago. This was the one choice that he needed to figure out how to make on his own. I was torn myself. I wanted to tell him to stop, to help him make this choice, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to. But I could stay beside him... I prayed that it would be enough for him.

Even with the holiday upon us, the air was void of excitement and magic. The Manor was decorated immaculately even still. Tears stung my eyes, when thinking that this was the first Christmas I ever had without my mother, without baking or cooking or the music or movies. There was nothing to do in the kitchen with the house elves working and practically shoving me out of the room. There was nothing to clean. Nothing to tidy or move... It felt unnatural. Draco pulled me into his arms, giving me the comfort that I craved so desperately.

“Your mother is arriving soon,” He murmured softly. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I think so... we’ve been civil through writing. How bad could this possibly be?” My words were cynical but hopeful still. “Besides... at least it won’t be just the four of us. By comparison my mother will be a delight,”

“Bellatrix has agreed to be civil, and Snape always comes for Christmas. Or has before the last couple years at least. He’s my godfather, you know. He and my father were close when they were young,” Draco’s voice was strained. “But I suppose they will all be needles in a haystack,”

“It was right to invite the rest of...” I trailed off. “They’re alone too,” 

“Always the Hufflepuff, are we?” He mused softly.

I hummed in acknowledgement. I was still wary about Bellatrix attending supper. Too many things had the chance of going poorly.

“You know we have to do this,” He read my thoughts.

“The perfect children. The perfect couple. The perfect soldiers.” I sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to go back to that night at the Ball. Or the month after...”

“It’s ironic,” Draco chuckled darkly. “That we now know ignorance is bliss,” I nodded at the doorbell chimed throughout the house.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,”

It was something quite different dining with just the Slytherins and dining with their parents as well. It wasn’t just I and Draco who were playing perfect children, but all of my friends, everyone I knew. All sapped of joy, of smiles, expression... under the scrutiny of their parents. Blaise, Vincent, Greg, Theo, and Pansy.

“How has schooling been?” My mother tried asking as the first course was served. 

“Well—”

“Ugh,” Bellatrix scoffed. “Who can learn anything with that daft old fool as headmaster?” 

“Bellatrix,” Narcissa warned gently.

“Yes, yes. Civil. As you wish,” She rolled her eyes and slouched, digging into what I assumed was quail.

Draco and I shared a look. Attempts for conversations halted after that.

Dinner passed and I barely tasted any of the surely rich foods that were placed before me. After the awkward affair, my mother asked to speak with me in private. Draco, Narcissa, and oddly enough, Snape eyed me warily.

“Of course,” I gave Draco one last look. He looked as if he were ready to pick me up and make a run for it, but he refrained.

I led her to the small rose garden that Draco had once led me to. It seemed sacrilegious to tread upon this secret haven, but it was a place that gave me comfort. Though it was covered in snow and the trees and bushes were bare, I still remembered the summer warmth the garden offered.

“You have surrounded yourself with quite a group people my dear,” Her voice strained out the words. “And that dress is lovely,”

“A gift from Narcissa,” A tight smile touched my lips. 

“So, you’ve replaced me then?”

I turned, frowning at my mother.

“You really think that?” I was baffled.

“Well look at you! New dress, new shoes, new friends! You’re living and dining with a bunch of Death Eaters for Merlin’s sake!”

“Yes, because I had so much of a choice to abandon the people I love and come home and live with my mother who lied to me for fifteen years and manipulated me!” I watched as my sharp words silenced her.

“You could have come home any time,” It was a quiet notion.

“No, I couldn’t have,” I wrapped my arms around myself and took a deep breath. “I’m going inside,”

“Please, dear. It is Christmas,”

“Yes,” I turned to face her. “And I’d rather be inside with Draco, if you can understand that.” 

“Draco,” It was nearly a sneer. “I have heard... rumors about him.”

“I really don’t think you have any right to say a word,” I said, my tone as ice.

“You’re blind. Your own love blinds you to who he really is. You’re going to get hurt,” There was an air of concern in her voice.

“No! I’ve spent years of my life terrified of letting people in because you’ve got it so deeply ingrained in me that I might get hurt! Well you were wrong about the world! And you were wrong about me!” I stalked up to her. “I have done things that you will never know! That you will never understand! I’m living through a war for god’s sake mom! And you’re here yelling at me about who I’m dating!?” I took a small step back, shaking my head. “This was a mistake...”

“Y/n, wait, please, you have to understand—”

“No mom! You... you don’t get to just waltz in here and ask me to understand! I don’t have to understand, and you really don’t get to give a damn after all you put me through! Don’t you think I want to have my mother here for me!? That it doesn’t kill me inside because I’ve never felt so alone in my life!? That everything I’ve known has been pulled from under me and while I’m trying to set myself somewhere new you just criticize me!? No! You just...”

“And what would your father say?”

I gaped at her, enraged.

“How dare you!?” I annunciated each word. “Dad would be damn proud of me! And he never would have let you do what you did to me! I am supposed to be your daughter! But I’m done.”

Without another word I stalked up to the house and inside, fuming. Draco caught me at the door, but I shrugged him off.

“Love,”

“No,” I snapped. “I need to cool down, just...” Wordlessly I headed upstairs before collapsing behind a random locked door, sobbing.

After a while, when my tears had subsided and my frame only shook minimally, I pulled myself up off the ground and stumbled over to a vanity. It must have been a guest room that I found myself in.

The girl looking back was a mess. Tear tracks stained with mascara ran down her cheeks and red lipstick was smudged out of place. Her hair was hanging haphazardly and out of order. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her lips etched into a permanent grimace.

There was a knock at the door. 

“Go away, Draco,” I sniveled.

“Do I look like that blond-haired prat to you?” The door clicked closed softly as I saw Pansy’s reflection in the mirror.

“Pansy, please... I—”

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m not here to console you, not particularly,” She came up beside me and leaned against the vanity. “Everything’s really fucked up, huh?” Her voice was depressed as she looked down.

“That doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I muttered.

“You know, I can’t tell my parents about Abby at all,” Her confession was small and weak. “She’s not a pureblood, and well, they’re not as accepting as her parents are about our relationship...”

I looked up at her, my eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out why she was telling me this now.

“We haven’t spoken all holiday,” This wasn’t the strong confident Pansy I was used to seeing, but rather a broken scared teenager. “She’s mad at me because I won’t tell my parents about her, and I... I can’t do it. I’m a coward,”

I let out a hopeless laugh and smiled at her.

“I just told my mother off and now I really think I’ve been disowned,” A dry humor coated my voice. “And I’m in love with the son of the man who killed my father,”

“Well shit girl,” Pansy laughed. “You make my problems seem so trivial,”

“Not my intention,” A smile met my lips. “And I’m really sorry about you and Abby... not saying that it’s anywhere near the same... but I’m aware of what it’s like to be scrutinized for my choice in partner.”

Pansy nodded and a silence fell between us.

“You’re going to run yourself thin, Y/n. Trying to be everything for everyone.” Her voice returned to its somber mood.

“I think I’ve past that point,” I muttered darkly.

“Then tell me, little Hufflepuff, who are you going to be?” There was a slight challenge in her eyes. “You don’t have parents watching over your every move, you don’t have the constant expectations.”

“I can’t just—”

“And why not?” She shot back.

“Because I have to protect Draco,” I breathed out. “Play the part and get through this,��� 

She eyed me; eyebrow raised but said nothing. “If that’s what you think,” She mused. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I shot back.

“Well, the girl I met a couple years ago would stop at nothing to be herself even if it meant being teased and bullied by a couple Slytherins. The same girl who cut off all her hair and started to fight back. I just wondered what changed.”

I opened my mouth to refute her point but refrained. A lot had changed. Draco was a Death Eater now. We had a trial to get through alive or we would both die. I had to somehow manage not to get killed by his aunt preferably. I still had to pass my bloody N.E.W.T.s as if the rest wasn’t enough.

“Tell me, or don’t. But I care about Abby and Draco a lot. And now I’ve got this kid sister under my wing and I don’t want to see her drive herself into the ground like I have. This war is shit, but you... Y/n, you’re someone to believe in.”

I tutted out a laugh. “I’m a mess. Please don’t believe in me,”

“But that’s what makes you so valuable to all of us. Blaise, Theo, Vin, and Greg too. You gave us all a second chance. It doesn’t take much to lay down your life for a good man, but to forgive a bunch of villains?”

“You’re not villains,” I refuted.

“See, that there. That’s why we believe in you.” Pansy smiled. “Even through it all, you still are kind and believe in us,” She tucked my hair behind my ear. “Now let’s get you cleaned up, because I’m sure Draco is on the verge of breaking in here himself,”

I laughed and pulled her into a hug.

“Thanks Pans,”

 _____________________________________

Draco paced outside the door as he heard your ragged sobs coming from within wishing nothing more than to go in there and hold you. But you had asked for space, so he tried to honor that. Draco jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Pansy?” he asked, relaxing a bit. “What—”

“I’ve got this lover boy,” She smiled and patted his shoulder.

“She doesn’t want to be bothered,” Draco defended, glowering.

“Maybe not by you, but I think she needs a sister about now, what do you think?” Pansy raised an eyebrow at him, and it reminded him of all the times that Pansy had been there to be a sister to him and he nodded, knowing that it might help you more that he could.

Draco leaned against the wall, next to the bedroom door, his eyes closed.

“Draco?”

He peaked an eye open to find his mother on the landing with him.

“Is she alright?” Soft concern colored his mother’s voice.

“I have no idea,” It was a ragged whisper. “I knew we shouldn’t’ have invited her mother. I knew it was a bad idea,”

Narcissa laid a hand on his shoulder and tilted his chin up so that his eyes reached hers.

“It was going to happen eventually, but maybe now she can get some closure from it,” His mother sighed. “I remember the night that Andy walked out... it was weeks before that last fight and I could see how much it drained her. And you know it’s been hurting her too,”

“Andy?”

“Your aunt, Andromeda.” Narcissa smiled sadly. “Married a muggle and was disowned... she was barely older than you,”

“Talking about our dear sister again?” Another voice snarked from behind them.

They both turned to see Bellatrix leaning against the stair banister.

“She was a traitor, Cissy,” The witch sneered. “Walked away from this family. Married a muggle,”

“I know,” Narcissa’s voice was strained. “But I thought perhaps it would give some insight to what Y/n is going through,”

“Are you sympathizing with our dear sister then? Are you a traitor sister mine?” Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” His mother snapped. “If anything, Y/n has just affirmed her loyalty by turning her back on her muggle loving family,”

Draco knew the words were said to appease Bellatrix, but still he flinched at the reality of them and what it looked like on the outside. He knew that was far from the truth. He knew that you had walked out on your mother because she had a problem with you being with him. It had nothing to do with blood status. But perhaps the wicked narrative would keep you safe.

Three pairs of eyes snapped up as the door opened. Pansy emerged first, a smile on her face and you followed behind. You were smiling and held your head high. You were also barefoot, your stilettos in hand. Draco smiled at the sight.

His aunt on the other hand.

“Improper if you ask me,” She muttered.

“I don’t think anyone did,” The smile on your face was tight and he had to refrain from laughing at the look of shock on Bellatrix’s face. “My apologies Narcissa, I do believe that I may have ruined your dinner party,”

“Think nothing of it my dear,” His mother smiled. “I’m just glad to see that you’re alright.”

Tucked by his side, Draco tried to read your facial expressions, but even he couldn’t pick anything up. What you showed him seemed real. A real smile and real confidence, but he doubted that it was really the case given the present circumstances. But perhaps it wasn’t far fetched after all.

Bellatrix glared at you, but you held no air of worry or fear. Instead it was almost as if you were challenging her. Which left him wondering what in Merlin’s name had Pansy talked to you about.

Draco kept a close eye on you all night, but you really did seem alright. Curled up under his arm on the sofa in the company of just your friends, you were almost at ease. He itched to know what had happened between you and Pansy, but there was never a moment alone with just the two of you.

The night wound down, and soon it was only you, him, and his mother left in the large house. The both of you had drifted to the sitting room that held the grand piano. Draco’s fingers danced along the ivory keys, remembering how last Christmas he had composed for the first time. Your song was still remembered under his fingertips as it became a part of mini concert.

Christmas morning came and there were few presents under the tree, most of them trivial. Christmas seemed trivial. He had gotten a pack of permanent markers from Abby with a note saying that you would know what to do with them. You had gotten a pair of diamond earrings from him—and his mother. You both agreed, however, not to get each other anything. It was a depressing notion, but there was simply nothing to say about the occasion.

That evening, you donned your cloak and smiled at him softly.

“I’m gonna go visit Papa,” Your voice was soft and subtle. “Would you like to join me?”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He never expected for you to invite him to something like this. After the events of yesterday he didn’t feel worthy to go with you, let alone meet your father.

“It’s okay Draco, I can go alone,”

“No,” It was immediate. “You’re not going alone,”

Draco never thought that your father would be buried here. At Godric’s Hollow. He supposed it was a common place for wizards to be buried, but... he didn’t make the connection. There were others here as well and he could hear the faint hymns being sung at the church down the road. You and he were just cloaks in the crowd, two hoods visiting a loved one. You paused at a gravestone.

Walter Y/l/n

1956 — 1983

A Father and Husband

~Have Courage and Be Kind~

“Happy Christmas Papa,” You whispered softly, waving your wand, riding the gravestone of snow and frost. You sank to your knees, tears in your eyes and a smile on your lips. “I brought someone here to meet you,” Your fingertips brushed the stone. “This is Draco, Draco Malfoy. I know you probably don’t like the last name Papa, but... he is good,”

Tears welled in Draco’s eyes at the interaction. He stooped beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Hello,” His voice was tight. “You have a wonderful daughter,” A pause. “And though I cannot atone for my father’s mistakes, I will try. And I will be someone worthy of her affection and love,”

You laid your head on his shoulder, not saying anything, but rather enjoying the quiet night, the soft snow starting to fall. Drawing his wand, Draco conjured a small wreath of holly at the bed of the grave.

“He would be so proud of you,” Draco murmured. “As I am.”

“He would be proud of you too,” You looked up at him, snowflakes on your eyelashes. “We should go before the snow gets worse. I can feel it growing dangerous,”

Draco’s eyes darted around to the other mourners in dark colors that made only your silver cloak stand out when his eyes landed on a rather large focal statue. You followed his gaze and stood, standing.

“Do you think Harry has ever...?” The question was soft.

“I don’t think he knows it’s here,” Draco answer truthfully, his brows tugging together.

He led you down the rows of headstones until you were before Lily and James’ gave. It was sobering, seeing it like this. Draco knew the legends and stories, of course, but looking at the small bundle etched in the stone, cradled in Lily’s arms, it seemed almost too real. With your wand, you used the same spell and cleared the grave of frost and snow.

“As much of a prick that he is...” You trailed off. “I hope he’s having a good Christmas,” 

Draco hummed in acknowledgement.

___________________________________

Narcissa greeted us at the door to the Manor. A warning in her eyes. The warning, proven to be in vain because nothing could prepare us for what was awaiting inside. The treacherous smile of Bellatrix greeted us, as she was flanked by two others, in hoods and masks—deeming them unidentifiable. Even though I had seen her the night before, her civility seemed to have vanished.

“The young prince returns, dear sister,” Bellatrix cooed. “But he has not been such a good young prince now has he?” She twirled her wand in her hand as Draco took a step in front of me, his own wand out.

“Bellatrix,” A steady recognizable voice called.

My eyes snapped to the right where Snape stood. His nonchalant demeanor almost blending in with the gloom that hung in the air.

“You know his fate, Bellatrix,” Snape did not attempt to stop her, but something held in his words accomplished the feat.

“Yes,” Her head cocked to one side as she drawled out the word. “But he is not above the Dark Lord’s law. And that goes for his harlot.”

“You will not speak to her like that,” Draco spat, growling.

I placed a hand on his shoulder. I could handle some name calling. I was just desperately trying to figure out Bellatrix’s game and why she had come back and why the hell Snape was here too.

“You know, you might have gotten away with it, little tramp, had the Ministry and that blood traitor Weasley stepped in and torn through the enchantments,” The purr fell from her lips. “And Cissy you should really know better than to leave me alone anywhere,”

Bellatrix waved her wand and I felt unseen hands grab my arms and drag me forward, to the center of the foyer, and then they were gone, causing me to stumble onto my knees. I glowered up at the witch, picking myself up and drawing my wand.

“Bellatrix!” This time it was Narcissa.

“Worry not little sister,” The witch stalked up to me, her wand tracing along the scar that resided under my shirt: from her knife the last time we had met. “She is in no harm... The Dark Lord has plans for her after all... But I am afraid that her possessions...”

My eyes went wide. I shoved the idea that the Dark lord had plans for me and finally figured out her game. The reason she was here.

My room in the manor. Filled with my muggle books, and records, and photos... Everything I had left from the family and home I no longer had.

“Yes, little pet.” Bellatrix snapped. “But I wanted to take this as a learning opportunity. That the Dark Lord will expect nothing less than perfection—dedication.”

“Bellatrix, please—” I started, only for my voice to be taken by a flick of her wand. 

“You will be silent, little toad,” She snapped.

I turned, and saw Draco standing with his mother, pure fury written on his face as Narcissa held him back. As much as I yearned for his touch and comfort, I knew that this had to be played very carefully for us to survive. His eyes met mine.

“Come, come,” The deranged witched cooed almost happily.

Draco wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me along beside him. I looked up at him with frantic questions in my eyes, but he just shook his head. Though I couldn't hear the others behind us, I was sure they were there. Standing at the door of what was once my room, I saw the scattered books, torn pages, and absolute destruction that was in the room’s wake. Tears welled in my eyes at the sight. Draco’s and Narcissa’s arms around me were the only thing that held me back from running forward to save something—anything.

“Draco,” Bellatrix motioned him forward. Rigidly he let me go and took a step forward.

“The Dark Lord and every Death Eater believes that Purebloods are superior. That Muggles are filth and should not be considered human. And yet you allow such scum in your house. Muggle scum.” Bellatrix turned to Draco. “Destroy them. Prove your loyalty, little prince.”

Narcissa’s arms became a vice grip, holding me up instead of holding me back. I ducked into her shoulder, not being able to bring myself to watch what I knew had to be done.

“Confringo,”

Time passed. I wasn’t sure how much time. Maybe seconds... maybe an hour. Everything froze around me. My lung burned for oxygen. My eyes saw nothing. There was nothing left for me to see. Nothing but destruction in wake.

________________________________

“Draco give her mind time to protect itself,” Snape’s calm voice chided, watching the young boy pace outside the room you were in, nursed by Narcissa.

“No.” He snapped. “She—Fuck she’s going to hate me! Do you realize what I’ve just done!” He nearly screeched. “I’ve just destroyed everything—”

“And rightfully so!” Snape hissed. “Do you think the Dark Lord would be as forgiving as Bellatrix? If he came here and saw such things?” Snape’s eyes narrowed. “If it weren’t for the Dark Lord’s plans for her, she’d be under a gravestone by now.”

“Plans for her!?” Draco rushed his teacher, wand out. “No. He doesn’t touch her.” The threat was malicious and icy.

“It is out of your hands,” Snape merely brushed Draco’s wand away. “Has today not been enough for you to understand that there is no other choice for you here?”

Draco took a cool step back. “Crystal.”

The door opened and two pairs of eyes snapped and fell upon a weary Narcissa.

“She is awake,” Her voice wavered slightly. Narcissa walked forward and placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “She’s asking for you,”

Ice ran through Draco’s veins as dread filled his chest. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was goodbye. Maybe this finally broke you. It’s what he dreaded the most, but knew it was coming.

You were sitting up, on the edge of the bed, your gaze cast to the floor. 

“Y/n, please, you have to—”

You held your hand up and shook your head.

“Books... can be bought again. So, can records...”

“But they—I...”

“Draco,” You called, squeezing your eyes shut. “I know.” Your voice was curt. “I know, but right now, if I dwell on that...”

He nodded and looked down.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Tears welled in his eyes as he sat beside. “Please forgive me,”

“You had no choice,” Your voice was small. “They’re just... things.” Your eyes still didn’t open. “They’re trying to break us. Break me. The Dark Lord has plans for me,” You almost scoffed. “Like I’m his pawn. Like I belong to him!” You stood pacing the room. “Well you know what? He can watch me bleed, he can watch me burn, but I will not give in!” Your voice was vehement. “I—won’t—break,”

Draco gaped at you, utterly shocked. This was... new. This was different. This was also the first time that he had ever seen you so adamantly speak against the Dark Lord with such fervor. A kind of courage that he wished he possessed. A determination that made him believe that maybe, if nothing else, you would get through this. It gave him hope that maybe he would too.

You sat beside him again and took a deep breath, running a hand through your hair. 

“How are you feeling?” You voice was gentle and soft.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” A small smile touched his lips.

A shrug fell from your shoulders and your hand ran up and along his left arm. The action alone eased the ache of the magic etched into his skin.

“I hate what I am,” He confessed through tears. “I hate what I’ve done and what I have to do. I... I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Sobs wracked his frame. “And I don’t know how you’re getting through this so well because I’m just breaking. I’m broken.”

Your arms wrapped around him, head resting on his shoulder.

“And that’s okay,” You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Go ahead and break. You’ve been strong too long, Draco.” Your hand ran through his hair.

He clung to you desperately, sobbing into your shoulder, hiding there. And he did break. He broke on you. He came apart at the seams in your hands and you held him together.

“I—I don’t w-want to kill him,” He sniveled. “W-why haven’t you tried to stop me?” He started to hiccup from the lack of oxygen.

You took his shoulders and looked him in the eye.

“Deep breath,” You instructed and took an exaggerated breath waiting for him to follow suit. It was shaky and ragged, but Draco managed a couple. “And because I wanted you to figure that out on your own. I wanted you to make that choice,” Your thumb brushed away his tears. “And I’m so proud of you for making it,”

He nodded and collapsed back into your arms a sense of relief flooding through him despite the threats that closed in from all sides.

__________________________________

“M-miss?”

It was early January when the house-elf came to me, clutching something in her hands tightly. Cassie, I thought was her name.

“Yes?” I knelt down, a soft demeanor to the action.

“I—I am—” She started to hyperventilate, tears in her wide eyes.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” I soothed softly. “I won’t hurt you, nor tell you to hurt yourself. You’re safe in my presence,” I held my hands out, a slow action, showing the cowering house elf that they were empty and held no threat.

“I—I have been a b-bad house elf,” She cried. “I s-stole from M-miss,”

I frown furrowed my brows. I couldn’t think of anything that I owned that was worth stealing. A depressing thought tacked on that I didn’t own anything worthwhile even to me at the moment.

“It’s alright,” I smiled something sad.

The house elf held out what she was clinging too.

My photo album, the gift from Abby last Christmas. Tears sprung in my eyes as I hastily snatched the book from the house elf’s grasp.

“P-p-please do n-n-not be cross with C-C-Cassie,” The elf sobbed. “S-she likes l-l-looking at the p-p-pictures of h-h-happy mom-ments.”

“Oh, I’m not mad,” I quickly rushed out. “Not even in the slightest,” Tears streamed down my face. “You saved this,” I set the album down and drew the elf into a hug that she tried to scramble from but eventually relaxed, sobbing into my shoulder. “Thank you, thank you.” I cried.

“P-P-Please do not tell Master D-Draco,” She sniveled. “Y-Y-You have a-a-always been k-k- kind to us e-e-e-elves, p-p-please,”

“Y/n?” Draco’s voice was concerned. “Tell me what?” Cassie squawked and hid behind me, cowering. 

“M-m-m-master D-Draco,” The elf stammered apologies.

“What’s going on?” Draco was reserved, a mask of calm.

“Cassie, she saved my album.” I ran my fingers over the leather cover. “She took it from my room I guess... said she liked to look at the photos,”

Shock and relief flitted across Draco’s face in waves. He knelt down beside me and brought the book into his hands tears in his eyes.

“Thank you,” He spoke softly to the house elf. “Thank you for saving what I couldn’t,” 

“Draco,” I chided softly, reaching out for him. “It wasn’t your fault,”

“Regardless if it was or not,” He turned his attention back to the house elf. “You have my deepest gratitude,”

I flipped to a worn page by my own hand, to a day last year in the snow of four friends laughing and smiling. It wasn’t much, but I supposed it was something to believe in.

.

Chapter 9

.

Masterlist

.

Tags: @coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18@whygz @crazywritingbug @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522@zombiesnips-blog @savingdraco@welcometomyworldwithoutrules@akari180 @slytherin-emerald@memalfoy-spidey@queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe@spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @dietkiwi@katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen @hxneybgb @justsomerandomgur@belcvayelena@moviesbooksandfandoms @howdycharlie@xtrashmouthxtozierx@cocochanelthepupper @ninacotte@braelynn-j @jiggllyy@honeymarvel @darcypottah@atomicpunkrock @thiccheerioss@lottie289 @boredashaeck@beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao@deadlynyghtshayde@iconjuresnapeingrandmaclothes@anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @lunna-does-real-doodle@dragonsandbread @okaydraco@the-queen-of-hell-things@cmxreader @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing  @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter@angelotakunerd08 @thisisahugemistake@fanficsigottaread@gweaslvy @strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge@cleopatera@ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby @shadowsingeraxolotl@peters-legos@quillsareforwriting @ghostlytoadalmondhairdo@wollymalfoy@lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats @floweryjh @sdicapriox@slothgirl22@peachesandpinks @monimillion @hufflautia @livize75@annie-mcl@riathearora @live-like-luna @justathoughtfulangel@coconutdawn@skteaiy @wannabeskinny-thinspo@naughtygranger​ @queenofmankind​ @dragonsandbread​ @abundantxadorations​ @moony-artnstuff​ @myforeveryoungblog​ @and-then-a-girl-with-luv​ @1-800-luvsick​ @pandas-rice-field​ @strawberriesonsummer​ @jjustsomerandomgirl​ @mrvlfangirl3190​ @loverbbgirlsblog​ @in-slytherin-we-trust​ @emmaa-t​ @introvertedrae​ @infinity1o1​ @stoleurmomsvan​ @echpr​ @sunkissed-hufflepuff @dekulover​ @marshmallowtraver​ @cereuselle​

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x #draco lucius malfoy #hufflepuff #draco x hufflepuff!reader #slytherin x hufflepuff #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #arthur weasley #bellatrix lestrange #narcissa malfoy #lucius malfoy #the dark mark #the dark lord #pansy parkinson #theodore nott #blaise zabini #crabbe and goyle #severus snape #snape #dumbledore #albus dumbledore #albus percival wulfric brian dumbledore #harry potter #harry potter reader insert #harry potter rewrite

[tomdiddlyumptious]

T.H| YOU TORE ME APARTTTT

Summary: this is only like a real quick because I had writers block

Warnings! Language, kids, and shit like that

A/n: them Medea movies used to smack

You stood in your shared kitchen, dancing while you stirred the gumbo you made for your family, the one and only Mary j Blige playing, your favorite song ‘My Life’ playing as the kids were silent watching you as your little princess tried to dance like you.

“Look mommy I’m doing it!” “No you aren’t” Wesley said, mugging his sister Oliver. “Don’t be like that Wes, you keep practicing Oliver, you’re doing great” you smile looking back at her, Wesley still watching her as he felt second hand embarrassment “how about...you come and taste this” you grab the ladle and grab a small thing of the food and bring it to him, “blow it” you say, holding your hand under the ladle, he blowed it off and took it, “mmmm!” He smiled at you, Oliver still trying to practice the moves. “Mommy is the best cooker” Wesley said and Oliver agreed, “of course she is! Better then daddy at least” you let out a “pfft” and started laughing “you a lil bully oli” “he doesn’t know how to cook!” “He knows how to cook, he just doesn’t know his seasons yet honey”

“You should teach him!” “Teach him what Wes?” Tom said, coming in the house and eyeing his son as he shut the door. “How to cook!” “Ouch who said I don’t know how to cook?” He asked, Oliver and Wesley looked at each other before pointing at you “mommy!” Tom fake gasped as he walked into the kitchen “mommy did it?” They both aggressively nodded their head. “No I didn’t!” You giggled turning around and added just a little bit spice, he came behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Smells good” “it tastes good” he chuckled and pursed his lips to give you a kiss on the cheek, then you turned your head to give him a lip one.

“Yay!” “ew” Wesley stuck out his tongue as Oliver clapped. “Mommy and daddy are in loveee” she became googly eyed. “That’s naty” he shook his head in disgust. You and Tom laughed and pressed each other’s lips together again. He danced and pressed himself up against you “ya know, it could be mommy and daddy time” he whispered. “It’s Christmas, it’s actually children time” you both looked back at Oliver and Wesley who sat there playing Rock Paper Scissors. “How about we watch a movie” Tom said to the kids. “Yeah! And no Medea mom” Oliver said making you laugh. “Medea is a classic! I used to watch it all the time in the holidays, or anytime for that matter” you shrugged, “yes Medea!” Wes said.

“How about we like play the grinch or something” Tom asked, sneakily tickling you and you smacked your lips at him trying to get out of his grip. “How about you take a shower so we can have our matching pajamas” you suggested. “No! Medea Medea Medea it is!” Oliver said, hoping out of her seat and jumping on the couch and Wes did a ‘Ching Ching’ and went to the couch and plopped down. “Your stinky Oliver!” You shouted over the music. “No!” She shouted back, she’s actually scared of the water, absolutely terrified. Tom kissed your neck and you smiled “go play the movie Tom, I’m gonna take a shower” “without me?” “Thomas” you sighed, “whatttttt, I just wanna see my wife’s body, is that bad?” He whispered. “No it’s not, just go play that movie and I’ll get us situated”

You and Wes matched in the dark green pajamas while Tom and Oliver wore the red, all watching the grinch as you were leaning on Tom half asleep, Oliver and Wes to invested in the movie while Tom was watching you slowly fall asleep.

The doorbell startled you as you jumped making Tom laugh and stand up, “I got it” he kissed your forehead and put the thick weighted blanket ontop of you, “thank you” you stuck your lips up for a lazy kiss which he took happily. Tom walked over to the door, opening it revealing “mum?” He said more of a question then a statement. “You thought it was gonna be Christmas without us?” “Or us?” In the back ground stood your mom and dad, your older brother and other siblings.

“So much for mommy and daddy time” he muttered. “Y/ns asleep” “that’s a surprise” your older brother said (let’s call him jamie). Harry and Sam held the bags of presents and Tom helped jamie. “She cooked gumbo?” Your mom (let’s call her...Angela) whispered, putting the macoroni in the oven.

Jamie plopped down next to you as you were knocked out, he smiled and joked to himself and he clamped his fingers over your nose, making your eyes go wide as you slapped whosever hand away. “Prick” you muttered as he laughed again, you sighed “why are you in my house” “that’s so inviting y/n” “shut up James” “not my name” “similar”

Sam and jamie set up the presents and the kids were gonna be really happy this year, you and your mom chatted as you had to continuesly look at your dad socializing with Tom. “Baby would you stop! He has nothing against him” Angela muttered. “I know but dad can be mean sometimes” “well he has nothing to be mad for” her lips in a tight manner as she glared at you, you sighed and playfully rolled your eyes which she smiled at. “He misses you” she adds. “I don’t believe it” “yeah because you’ve both havent talked to each other for years” “that’s not true” “well it seems like it! He loves you girl” niki made her way into the kitchen “alright grown folks bisnuess ” “mom I’m litterally 22” “and just 5 years ago you were a minor” you groaned and threw a fit, draping your feet as you left the kitchen and into the livingroom, Sam and Harry playing with the kids as you placed the weighted blanket back on yourself.

By time it was dinner, you and Tom thanked each other mentally for the buying the large table. You and your family sat mixed, Tom and your mom of course sitting next to you. Wine glasses and glasses of juice being clanked together, laughing at childhood stories that you dad told, Tom giving you kisses on the forehead and holding your hand.

After the kids opened up the presents you all collected each other’s presents, you got body mists and some clothes and a bracelet, you made everyone a large gift bag, niki and your mom with purses, dresses and gift cards, you bought your dad a Rolex and keys for a new car, you just went all out this time.

“Mommy daddy time?” Tom asked, watching as you were in the desk, wearing lingerie. You turned your body towards him and took off your glasses. “Yes, mommy daddy time” you stood up and walked over to the bed, and then just stopped infront of it. Tom raised his eyebrows at you before you started dramatically dancing. “Jingle bell jingle bell jingle bell rock” you sung, doing body rolls as he cringed. You turned to the side and popped your back out, placing your hands on your knees. “Stop” he genuinely asked. “No you wanted mommy and daddy time right? What bright time it’s the right to rock the night away” you hit the whip and did the nae nae, “y/n stop” “that’s the jingle bell rock!” You climbed on the bed and sat on his lap, pressing yourself on him as you continued to sing, he gripped your ass “that’s the jingle bell rockkkkkkk!” You shook him and he scrunched his face trying to stay stiff.

“Pleaseeee be serious!” He glared at you. “LAST CHRISTMAS I GAVE YOU MY HEARTTT THE VERY NEXT DAY-“ he cut you off by putting his lips on yours while flipping you over, laughing as he went down to kiss your neck “THIS YEARR TO SAVE ME FROM TEARS-“ “y/n shut up!” He laughed and you smiled, “fine, get to work Santa” “don’t even” “ho ho ho” “your a ho ho ho” “get off me Thomas” “wait-“

Let’s say bells weren’t the only thing that jingled 🤭😳

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x black!reader #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland au #dad!tom

[artisticflutter]

Winter

It’s the faaabulous time of year again where we post for @mlsecretsanta~ And this year, my giftee is @coffeegrindsandautumnbreezes who wanted something sweet and Juleka-centric. Please enjoy~

Rating: General Audiences Genre: Friendship, Family Bonding, Slice of life Pairing(s): None Summary: Juleka has some introspective while filling in on a re-shoot for Gabriel. Warning: Minor mentions of “Reflekdoll”, beta’d by PocketNoivern

“Are you sure about this Juleka? I’d understand if you’re not comfortable.”

“No, it’s alright. I offered to do this.”

A nod, but her mouth thinned all the same. Peridot eyes twinkled however, and he smiled so easily.

“Okay, but tell me if you ever start feeling overwhelmed at all?”

“Mmm… thanks Adrien.”

He really was too kind; Juleka was grateful for his friendship and she could see why Marinette’s infatuation with him remained after so long. Of course, she was - in general - grateful to both of them for this opportunity at all. It had been Marinette’s suggestion that he ask her about modeling again (she wondered if it was to make up for last time, but really, that hadn’t been Marinette’s fault). It’s possible Marinette knew she had needed the extra euro and what’s more, it would be experience for her resumé. She intended on thanking them both properly when she could and the opportunity to hang out with a friend that could probably do with the change of pace himself.

Well, if helping her again was a change for him. Considering the circumstance, it probably wasn’t. After all, someone as patient as Adrien should’ve been able to work with someone as flexible as Lila, but therein was the reason for the winter re-shoot and Juleka getting this break at all. 

She’d think about the details later, and instead, try to focus on posing.

Her usual make-up? Removed and replaced with natural tones. She herself provided enough contrast to the neutral, but brighter and warmer tones of the winter attire she had to wear. There was also a matter of the location - the Pont Alexandre III blocked off just for this. The purpose today was to accentuate warmth in the cold, first a series of solo shots and then a few couple poses - the idealistic and romantic comfort when the temperature dropped. She’d done similar shoots with him before - maybe that’s why Marinette suggested her first? No, part of her tone had still sounded apologetic.

So far, it was going well; or at least, she was satisfying Vincent’s demands, but then everyone seemed to tense when Vincent called for Adrien to join her.

“Are they expecting an akuma?” she asked when he stood next to her.

He shot her a sheepish look. “Ah… yes and no? These days, they’re always worried about an akuma delaying us, but… er, Lila wasn’t following directions when we got to this part. I’d say that’s pretty standard considering how often I have to work with her now.”

“Oh… that’s weird.”

Lila being unprofessional? That didn’t sound right, but if Adrien was saying that… Then perhaps her perception wasn’t as off as she thought.

“Yes! Warm couple, show me winter love! That… cold hot passion! Close, but no! Shy, waiting to bloom! Perfetto!”

“I think I get it…” Juleka mumbled, taking hold of Adrien’s hand, but looking down.

“Really? Most people don’t.”

She heard the shutter going off.

“When you take a walk in winter with someone, you’re close, but not too close,” Juleka started, pausing as they changed poses. “You’re enjoying the cold and the quiet with company instead of talking in the sun and warmth. You think about the return home together, sitting by a fire, or wrapping up in a blanket and don’t linger...”

“Yeah, that’s right…!” Adrien paused as they stood close together, huddled with her shoulder to his arm as they both ducked their heads and pretended to be caught in a sudden snowfall. “It’s definitely a more restrained display of love outside during winter that’s not just limited to romantic couples. You think about things like this a lot, don’t you Juleka?”

“... Maybe.”

She wasn’t asked about her opinions or thoughts all that often, and she knew it had much to do with the way she dressed and musical tastes. Not that she’d ever say it out loud, but she was a bit of a romantic and had her interests that seemed counter to her rock lifestyle. For example, she would rather write poetry than music lyrics, and this too, she wanted to model instead of play music. There was plenty still that she didn’t grasp, but to try understanding more complex feelings she didn’t fully comprehend, she observed people, thought plenty about moments in time, and the experience they must have in that instant. As well, she could look at couples and visualize their connections almost. Perhaps it wasn’t the same as how her brother could hear people’s heart songs, but she’d like to think she had enough sense. 

Like in this moment, Adrien came off to her as ‘ease’ and ‘comfortable’, contrasting how stressed he’d been growing at school - or perhaps, it was better to say he was becoming stressed at life. It was unfortunate; she didn’t think she was the person to ask him about it. Hopefully Nino or Marinette would notice.

“Now, Juleka, you are winter blossom. I need… yes! Smile, just like that! Yes, yes!”

It was just a subtle expression she was giving the camera, but she did wonder how it did look on his end. She couldn’t see Adrien’s expression either, but it still felt like he was enjoying himself. Good; she was happy to know he didn’t mind her company.

A few more shots and a few more poses (the closest to uncomfortable was a small cheek kiss, but it was only one shot) had Vincent snapping up to a straight spine stand and lowering his camera.

“That! Was magnifico! I need her for more shoots, Adrien! You bring her again!”

“If that’s alright with her. She’s not officially contracted, but if you tell my father…”

“Ah, yes! I will have a word with Nathalie!”

Vincent was off in a shot while Juleka remained standing, watching the crew begin to remove the extra lighting that had been set up in assumption they’d continue longer. She accepted Adrien’s hand when extended her way and his escort back to the dressing tent. He looked, and felt, so elated that Juleka couldn’t keep herself from smiling back as he spoke, “That was great, Juleka! One of the best shoots we’ve had! I wish we could’ve talked more, but I hope Luka likes his gift.”

“Thank you, Adrien. And I know he will.”

Even if he managed to get a new one already, but that would just mean having two instead of none. “I had fun too. If you need me to fill in again, or if Vincent insists on that next shoot, just ask.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Letting go of her hand, he waved as he retreated to his own dressing tent. Meanwhile, she stood and stared, considering many things about the energy now exuding from him and how it proceeded to dim. How curious, but again, she wasn’t close enough to ask for details. She wouldn’t mind getting close in the future, especially if working together might become common; he seemed like the person who’d appreciate more friends and she rather liked having brighter personalities around. 

Turning, she was in and out of her tent in moments, taking particular care to make sure the designer clothes were hung properly before stepping back out. There, the make-up artist handed her the agreed pay for the late-minute fill-in - there was more than originally negotiated. However, glancing up, there she saw Adrien peering around Nathalie as she spoke to Vincent. He grinned, waving slightly again, and mouthed ‘Joyeux Noel’. Of course she mouthed ‘Joyeux Noel’ back before heading on her way.

Down the ways towards Champs-Élysées, Luka was waiting for her to arrive having stayed to watch her and walk with her home. He could’ve at least gone and waited inside a cafe to keep warm, but no. Hopefully his fingers weren’t cold considering his fingerless gloves, but knowing him, he’d probably lost track of time strumming his guitar. Stopping as she approached and raising his head, he beamed brightly. “Hey Jules… Sounds like you had fun. Did Adrien treat you well?”

“Mmm, he made sure I was comfortable, and if I had any issues, he was ready to help,” she answered, knowing that her brother already knew.

“His heart is still suppressing its true ballad. I’m glad things went well,” he said, packing his guitar back into its case. Standing up, he slung it over his shoulder and nodded. “Ready to head home, or do you have any other stops to make?”

“... Not right now. Let’s walk home, it looks like it will really snow soon.”

“Yeah, that’s true… Ah, wait.”

He turned to the railing and picked up two to-go mugs, turning back to her with a grin as he held one out. “Mom will likely have something bigger, but cheers to a successful shoot. One step closer to the dream.”

“Thanks, Luka…”

Accepting her cup, it was still warm between both hands. Then, he had gone to a cafe moments before - ah, he’d called when they would be wrapping up. One day, she’d like to be that intuitive and thoughtful. For now, she walked alongside him in comfortable silence, enjoying the wafted aroma of vanilla and chai, and making plans on getting him that pedal tuner she spotted in the music store. After that… the best Merry Christmas thank yous she could think of.

#ml secret santa #mlsecretsanta #scribbling do #miraculous ladybug #juleka couffaine #luka couffaine #adrien agreste #juleka models #coffeegrindsandautumnbreezes #fanfiction #minor ml spoilers #for those who haven't seen season three #reflekdoll mention #family #friendship #bonding

[asteriismos]

get lucky - richie tozier

warning(s) : innapropriate relationship, stepbrother! richie tozier, hate sex, smut, richie being an annoying stepbrother, college! losers, for some reason all the losers are in california i dont know 

words : 3.6k

request(s) :

If you don’t have anything against step-bro fics can I pls request stepbro Richie smut that ends with them getting caught😳👀

hate sex smut imagine with richie pleaseee?🥺🤧

you hated how much your mother was in love with wentworth tozier. and you hated it so much that you were dreading summer break, because over winter break the two of them had gotten married and it was the first fucking time you even met the man. wentworth was a dentist, which was oh so evident by the way that he literally stared at your teeth the second he greeted you, but he seemed nice enough. 

even though you met him the night before they were tying the knot in their relationship. your mother has never been the best with giving you information on her life, which you didn’t really mind considering you were off in college worrying about college things. 

but the worst thing about your mothers marriage to wentworth was not the fact that her last name was now tozier ( which you questioned was even a real last name or not ) or the fact that now you had to get to know an older man that wasn’t your dad. it came in the form of your new stepbrother, richie tozier. 

if there was one nice thing you could say about richie ( and trust me, for you that was hard ), it was that he could be funny. key word ‘could’. but it wasn’t funny when he would pick at every single thing that you did, constantly teased you for all the little things. it pissed you off more than you could even explain. you swore that you were so close to punching him in the face at the little reception after the tiny wedding, when he kept pushing your buttons for no goddamn reason.

you’re such a prude y/n!

do you ever stop complaining?

richie had already drove you up the fucking walls after one night of being graced with his presence, and you had absolutely no idea how you were going to handle an entire summer with him. 

you lived in california, you had all your life. so it was natural for you to apply to colleges there or around there, not that money was really an issue because your mother worked for a very large law firm and made a lot of money. that’s why you were able to stay at the dorms for school, not seeing your mother except for when you were there for holidays. your childhome was big, but it now felt considerably small now that your new family members moved in. 

it seemed like everywhere you went in your house, richie ended up there, talking to you and breaking the peace between you two constantly. 

that’s why you made it your mission to avoid him as much as possible. you had dealt with boys like this before, if you just didn’t give them any attention, they would get bored and go off to do different things. 

except richie didn’t seem to be getting the memo, the lack of attention made him just seek out for it even more than before. 

 today was one of those instances, where you were sitting out by the side of the pool alone. your mother and wentworth were in one of the rooms upstairs painting it to make it a new office space for her. the color was some ugly green color and when wentworth asked if you wanted to help, you shook your head and said pass. sunbathing sounded better than trying to get along with your new family. 

your eyes scanned over the words of your book. you had promised your friend ( who was an english major ) that you’d read it, even though it was a little weird. it was lolita by vladimir nabokov, about some guy who fell in love with a younger girl. 

“an erotic novel, nice.”

you glanced up from your book to be met with richie, eyes through his glasses staring right at yours. they trailed down to your lips, and then down farther, but he quickly composed himself and looked instead at the book, motioning to it. 

you scoffed. “not really. it’s honestly weird as hell.” your eyes went back to reading the words, hoping that he would get the memo that you didn’t want to talk to him and he would go away. 

but he didn’t, or at least if he did he dismissed it, pulling off his shirt and setting it down on the beach chair next to yours. from behind your sunglasses, you watched him strip down into just his swim trunks, thanking god that the sunglasses shielded your eyes from his vision. he couldn’t see that you were borderline checking him out. 

it was wrong. you were convinced that there was a special place in hell for people who thought that their step siblings were hot, but nonetheless you still did it anyways. 

now he was talking, but because of your staring you didn’t catch the first part of what he was saying. richie’s mouth was moving and all you were thinking about were his lips trailing down . . .

“ . . . if you wanted to go with me?” richie finished, giving you a confused look when all you gave back was a blank stare. your brain tried to figure out what he had said before you tuned in, or try and make up an excuse about why you weren’t listening. you figured that telling the truth about you checking him out and thinking about him eating you out for hours. 

you pushed your sunglasses up to your voice and squinted at him, “what’d you say?”

richie gave you yet another confused look, shaking his head and saying, “i asked if you wanted to go to this frat party that me and some of my friends are going to.”

“why would i do that with you?”

richie laughed. “i literally just explained that. did you go braindead for a whole minute? my dad and your mom want to have a night to themselves tonight at the house and want us gone. do i need to elaborate or can you read through the lines?”

you cringed outwardly and inwardly, shaking your head. “no, i get it. gross, okay yeah fine whatever i’ll go.” you’d do whatever you needed to do to get out of the house to not have to deal with whatever your parents got up to.

-

the music blared loudly in your ears as you walked into the rather large frat house. you looked around at the people in the entrance way, seeing that there was a mixture of boys and girls, and definitely a lot of people here. it would be hard to keep track of everyone in the group that you came with. 

richie picked up three other people that apparently have been his friends since childhood. you felt incredibly out of place as they all talked to each other in the car, you kept your arms crossed in front of your chest and basically pouted in the passengers seat of your stepbrothers car. even though you had agreed to go to this thing, you were still mad that you were going with richie. or were you?

“can you at least try not to act like such a prude while we’re here? jesus y/n you look like someone killed your cat,” richie said, jokingly poking the small of your back. you yelped, jumping forward and glaring at him. 

you felt a hand on your shoulder. “hey! lay off richie, god.” his friend beverly, who had firey red hair and seemed to be the only girl in their little group, said. she pulled you close to her by the side and gave you a kind smile. “don’t let him get under your skin, y/n, if you can believe it, he teases the people he loves.” 

“no thanks,” you joked, walking beside her with the rest of the group following to the kitchen to get drinks. you took one of the red solo cups and took a sip of the concoction in there. it tasted like strong beer, maybe a hint of vodka? it was all masked with a cherry aftertaste. it surprisingly wasn’t bad for something made at a frat. 

they all followed suit, one of the members of your tiny group ( who’s name you learned to be stanley ) cringed after just one sip of the drink. you couldn’t help but laugh, giving him a cocky smile. “can’t hold your alcohol stanley?”

richie pushed into your line of vision, “no, he’s just a wuss.” stanley squinted at your stepbrother and pushed him in the shoulder lightly. “am not, beep beep richie.” 

you cocked your head to the side in confusion at the saying. beverly, stan, and mike all just laughed. richie did not, instead he huffed and stood there like a pouty child. the saying seemed to shut him up, maybe you’d have to use that on richie so he would shut the fuck up once in a while when he was annoying you. 

the party raged on, more and more people started to pour their way into the large house. you found a place on the dancefloor with beverly, dancing with her to the loud upbeat music that played. every once in a while mike would come over and dance with you two and you would smile and laugh with your newfound friends. richie would come over once in a while, make some snarky comment your way, then leave. 

the one person who you haven’t danced with is stanley, who was standing on the outskirts of the party. he sipped at his drink idly and ran a hand through his curls. from time to time a girl would come over to him, and he would pass them up, 

it intrigued you. 

you walked over to stanley and gave him a smile, looking around at the crowd and pointing at richie. “so why do you guys say beep beep richie?”

stan laughed, taking a sip of his drink. the smell of alcohol became that much more prevalent as some coated his lips. “when we were younger and richie would talk too much, we would all go ‘beep beep richie’ to get him to shut up. we don’t use it as much anymore because we grew out of it. but it works from time to time.”

you nodded, smirking. looking around the room, your eyes caught richie, chatting up some girl. from time to time his eyes would look across the room at you. and when he saw that you were talking to stan, he squinted through his bottle cap glasses. sticking your tongue out at him, you turned your attention back to stan. 

“do you wanna dance?”

and he didn’t get the chance to say no, because you were already pulling him out into the crowd of people dancing. you took his drink from his hand and set it down, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

you both rocked to the music, hips swaying to the beat. you turned around so that your back was facing him and reached behind you to grab his hands, putting them on your lower waist. then you made eye contact with richie, who was basically staring you down at this point, and grinded your ass into stans hips. 

you heard a gasp from behind you that was no doubt stan, but both of you were too intoxicated to really think anything of it. he instead moved his hips against you, hands running up and down your body. your eyes never left richies, watching him completely drop his drink onto the girls’ shoes he was talking to. then he was walking closer and closer to you, grabbing you by your wrist and pulling you slightly away from stan. 

“what the fuck are you doing?” richie asked you, his eyes dark with anger. he looked genuinely upset, and to be honest he had no right to be. he wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t even really your brother. so if he was trying to play some sort of ‘overprotective act’ it wasn’t working. 

you just gave him a little smile. “just dancing with stan,” you slurred. “jealous much?”

richie didn’t answer, only laughing a little bit at how drunk you actually were. he gave stan a look and shrugged his shoulders, “she’s really drunk, sorry. i should get her home. can you guys find a ride?”

the rest of the night is blank in your memory. 

-

you woke up to the sound of dishes clanking downstairs in the kitchen, causing you to groan once your eyes were opening. the very obvious hangover that you were experiencing was hard not to feel.

still dressed in last nights clothes, you tried to recal what had happened last night to get you this drunk. all you could remember was drinking some kind of random drink from the party and dancing with richie’s friend stan. the rest was pretty fuzzy. 

eventually you made your way downstairs, seeing that it was richie who made the noise in the kitchen. no one was in sight. you looked at the clock and it read that it was 2 in the afternoon. some night it must’ve been.

“good morning, here’s some asprin,” richie said to you, passing over the small bottle across the kitchen counter. 

you nodded a thank you and reached to grab a glass of water. “where’s my mom?”

“beach day,” richie replied, shrugging his shoulders. “so are you and stan like a thing? because i did not see that coming.”

you groaned, “do you have to talk so much? I just woke up and i don’t need you blabbering. and so what if i like stan or not, it’s not like you’re the one to control me.”

“yes I am.”

you scoffed, actually laughing at what he had said just a second ago. he thinks he can control you? as if. 

“you’re a fucking dick richie. i’m sorry you’re jealous of me dancing with stan last night. sorry you didn’t get your dick wet because of me,” you said, taking the glass of water up to your room and giving him no more of your attention.

as soon as you closed the door and set the water down, you heard the door to the room open and close again. “jesus fucking christ rich, get over it. you’re an asshole.”

“you’re such a fucking brat, you know that?” richie said to you, pushing you onto your bed and immediately coming in between your legs. his hot breath fanned your face, pressing a harsh kiss to your lips and trailing down your neck. 

teeth bit into your sensitive skin, breaking the blood capulets on your neck and creating purple splotchy marks all along it. you moaned out at the feeling, pushing your hips against his hips in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure that was falling in between your legs. 

he laughed along your skin. “needy. all for me? for your stepbrother? don’t you think that’s a little wrong, y/n?” he kissed all the way back up to your lips, your bottom lip coming in between his teeth. 

he pulled it away and let go, letting it snap back against your mouth. you whined, hands flying to the black tufts of hair on his head. richie kissed you, stifling any more whiney noises you made. 

his hands came down and pushed the end of your shirt up just enough to expose your breasts. the cold air brushed against them and you shuttered. richie palmed at them, still kissing you. his hands were big enough to fit all around your breasts, and his thumb came to pinch your nipple. 

you yelped, pulling away from him and staring daggers at him. “that hurt.” but you fed into his touch, your own body going against your mind. you involuntarily pressed your chest against his hand. 

he only chuckled, giving you that classic richie grin. 

“doesn’t look like you mind much, sweets,” he said, one of his hands going down and slipping underneath the fabric of your pants. 

richie’s fingers grazed along your clothed clit, a smirk growing on his face when his fingertips pressed harshly on the wet spot that was in them. instead of teasing you like he usually would’ve, he just hooked the fabric away, sliding his finger along your slit. 

you moaned at the contact, pulling his hair with a force that probably hurt. he didn’t seem to mind, giving his own moan while pushing one singular finger into you. 

his finger curled up in a come here motion and you almost screamed, biting your lip so that you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of knowing he had such an effect over you. he could see through your bullshit quite clearly, pushing another two fingers into you and not moving. 

richie had three fingers in you that he wasn’t moving, watching you squirm against his hand to create some kind of pleasure. but with his other hand he held your hips down, keeping you from moving at all. 

“i want to hear you beg for it.”

“for fucks sake, richie,” you said, eyes opening to look at him. 

his chest pressed against your own as he leaned in, “beg. or i’ll leave you to finger fuck yourself.”

for a moment you thought that you weren’t going to do it, mostly because of your pride and ego. the pleasure that awaited you took over though and you opened your mouth to say, “please richie. fuck me with your fingers. stretch me out. i need you.” your cheeks burned in embarrassment at your words, knowing that he would never let you live that down. 

“good girl.”

he spared not a moment more, fingers setting at an unbelievably fast pace as they pumped in and out of you. his thumb massaged figure eights on your clit and you knew that you weren’t going to last long. 

for some reason the thought of richie being your stepbrother was hotter, and made you almost even more wet. your arousal slicked the inside of your thighs while he kept his pace. 

your head arched back, feeling him hit your g spot every single time his fingers fucked into you. 

soon enough you were cumming, opening your eyes and seeing blurry vision. richie kept pumping his fingers, mouth finding home on your breasts to give you more hickies there. you didn’t know how you were going to be able to hide all of them. that fucker. 

you took a minute to catch your breath and for that moment richie wasn’t touching you at all, which made you miss his touch more than you were willing to admit. you heard the sound of pants unzipping and soon enough richie was in between your legs, this time his cock in his hands as he pumped lazily. you took no time to push your pants and panties down onto the floor.

you gave him a look when he aligned in your enterance. he was thick, which now made sense as to why he fucked you with three fingers, even though he was still way bigger than the width of three fingers. 

all you could think about was him filling you up and fucking you until you saw stars. 

richie pushed into you, groaning at the feeling of you around him, tight and wet. he couldn’t believe that he took this long to fuck you. but now all that pent up tension was coming up right now, richie was already so wound up from hearing you beg for him. 

once he bottomed out, he pulled out, pushing back in. you hissed at the feeling, not all the way used to the feeling of him stretching you out but loving it anyways. he buried himself into you like he owned you and you loved it. 

his hands came to your hips and thrusted in and out with such force that your whole body moved with every single rut into you. he shed no mercy, hitting that one spot every single time mercilessly. 

your hands fumbled to touch him, anywhere you possibly could. eventually you made your way to his back, fingernails digging into his skin enough to probably draw blood. you scratched up and down, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. 

your breasts bounced up and down with every thrust, the shirt pushed all the way up to your neck was getting soaked with your own sweat. the heat in the room was almost unbearable, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

he grabbed your thigh and hoisted it up, moaning at the new angle that he hit within you. your eyes teared up with the pleasure that coursed through you, once again about to hit that brink once again. you were already pretty sensitive from the previous orgasm. 

“richie, i’m going to cum,” you moaned out. 

“I know baby, let it out for me,” he responded, hand falling down to your clit. 

that sent you over with a scream, the coil that had been winding in you finally snapped, sending you over the edge flying. 

with his thrusts helping you ride your orgasm out, you felt completely fucked out. mind blank, legs starting to hurt from the angle he was holding them in. soon his thrusts faltered and he was cumming, hot liquid shooting through you. he pulled out and gave you a goofy look, pulling up his boxers and searching for his pants on the floor. 

you closed your legs, feeling some of his cum fall down into your thighs. you pulled your shirt back down and put your panties on. 

right as you were about to say something, your door opened. 

it was your mom and wentworth, looking at both of you with shock in their eyes. 

oh fuck. 

“you two,” your mother said, almost too angry to speak. “have a lot of explaining to do.”

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier smut #stanley uris #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #eddie kaspbrak #IT movie #it movie imagine #it movie 2017 #it movie x reader #it movie 2019 #smut

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 28

28. find what you love and let it kill you

Summary: lola gets back from boston and it gets worse.

Warnings: HEROIN

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove @toofasttofallinlove @xrosegoldwolfx @obsessivesky @trpwthme @lovehelpmewrite @angelicjoonie23 @marvelismylifffe @lilytalebi @glitterdreamsz @freddiessmallnipples @crazysaladchopshop @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @dramatique-moi @missqueeniewrites @calspixie @aryssav @catsoo12 @sweetshutter @silvertonguedserpent @shamelessobsessions @lavenderbones22 @keepcalm-and-beyou @scarecrowmax @nicholeh7 @unknownoblivion @sighsophiia @fruitinthebottom @misscharlottelee @local-troubled-writer

Doc has officially gotten over his guilt when Lola walks into rehearsals looking like she hadn't slept in a week, and asks her in front of the whole band, why someone matching her description, going by the name Lola Fields, was wanted in the state of Massachusetts for trespassing, and assault with a deadly weapon.

"I can't believe they pressed charges," Lola mutters under her breath, not even trying to play dumb to the situation, "and its not like I actually assaulted anyone, its just because I had a gun, I didn't even use it."

"Of course you didn't use it," Doc talks to her like she's an idiot, infuriated, "because otherwise you'd be wanted for murder, Lola!"

"No I wouldn't," Lola's hands are fidgeting, and she can't look anyone in the room in the eyes, "it would be arson, probably." She paused, shrugging, "but its not." Her gaze finally slides to meet Doc's, eyes red and hazy, "but they want Lola Fields, and that's not me, we're fine." She sniffs a little, averts her gaze, and shoulders past him.

"Lola-"

Lola and Tommy don't talk about what happened in Boston, not even to Nikki, though the worrying part is that they're barely speaking to each other.

Lola keeps the most irregular hours now; when she's with the band, she's barely cognizant of where she is, always high, and she goes out almost every night, comes back bruised and bloodied if she comes back at all. Nikki finds her asleep on a park bench on the way to the studio one morning, knuckles split and lip busted, and Nikki can't help but ask what the fuck is happening to her.

Lola shrugs.

"If none of these fucks press charges, why did my fuckin' mom?" Lola told him, not meeting his gaze.

"What the fuck are you trying to prove? That your mom's a cunt? Yeah, we know, Lo, we fucking know." Nikki wants to shake her, but he's afraid to touch her for the bruises and scrapes that litter her skin. Lola turns her deadpan expression to him.

"I'm not trying to prove anything," Lola rolls her eyes as best she could, with one almost swollen shut. She doesn't elaborate, and the car ride is quiet, terse, and it's like Nikki can feel her slipping from his grasp. Trying desperately to figure out what triggered this, he asks Tommy, for what feels like the hundredth time, what happened in Boston.

"Not my place, dude, ask Lols," Tommy tells him, avoids his gaze and idly taps his snare in an effort to look busy.

"You know she won't fuckin' tell me shit about Boston; what the fuck happened to you two?" Nikki's demanding now, and Tommy swallows hard. "I'm over this bullshit secrecy; something fucking happened and now all she does is fight. She's gonna get herself killed."

Tommy doesn't know how to answer.

Tommy's different, but not in the same was as Lola, not nearly as noticeable. Outwardly, he's the same, excitable and hard partying, but his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes now, and he gets distracted in a way that's strangely out of character. He'll grin and shrug and pretend like his whole world hadn't been turned upside down in one night.

"She's not my problem anymore, dude," Tommy says blithely, though it has Nikki seeing red, blood boiling in his veins as he shoves Tommy from his drum stool.

"Your problem? Your fucking problem? If she gets herself killed, and you fucking stood by and watched, won't even tell me why, that's her blood on your fucking hands." Nikki snarls. They don't get much work done that day, or the day following, and Lola lands herself in the ER with broken ribs and a concussion. At least she's docile on the morphine.

Suddenly Boston didn't matter, and everything was good; bandages on her ribs and healing bruises. Morphine became the only thing that would get her out of bed, to get her through the day, and for a while, the weeks she was in recovery, she and Nikki lived in a manufactured state of bliss. For those weeks, Doc didn't care that the pair were abusing themselves if they got work done, and didn't fight.

But it didn't last, her prescription ran out quickly with both herself and Nikki abusing the substance, and Lola needed something new to fill her hollow soul, to make her forget that her purpose in life, her father's approval, was ripped away from her, and there was no way to get it back.

She fights to feel something, anything, that isn't just hollow nothing.

"I know you," she's looking for a fight, like most nights, jumpy and wild-eyed and hopped up on coke. Whipping around, she sees a surprisingly well dressed man leering at her, "you're Lola Gone, right?" And even now, years after her heyday on The Strip, her reputation precedes her.

She doesn't fuck strangers anymore, but he tells her he's not looking for a fuck - maybe head, but they'll see how things are going - but he needs someone to party with, someone that won't 'pussy out' as he tells her. A music executive taking a walk on the wild side, trying to see what all the fuss was about with someone who knows how to handle their highs, who won't think he's trying to get chummy, like his bands would if he went to them. She doesn't know him, but she doesn't have to to have a good time.

Heroin feels better than morphine, and Lola knows, feels, and doesn't fucking care, from the moment she takes her first hit, she'd sell whatever's left of her soul for it. Snorting it, it's like it hits the hollow spot in her heart in only minutes. For the first time in a very long time, she thinks she feels genuinely happy.

Morphine made her feel like she was floating, but now she feels like she's flying; the pain's gone, but it's replaced with the endorphins her mind hasn't been able to produce for years.

It's like she needs it. The moment she comes down, she needs it, needs to keep feeling good, because if she doesn't feel good, she feels fucking nothing, and the nothing is fucking killing her.

Nikki's on a weird cocktail of drugs and booze when Lola finally comes home, three days later, fucked out despite her best intentions, and the name of a dealer who had set up the exec. Nikki mentions, slurs his way through mentioning that he's got someone who can get them some more morphine, and Lola's grin is all teeth when she says she's got something better.

The outside world means nothing to Nikki and Lola when they have each other, and as much smack as they can snort. Time starts to blur together; Lola's pretty sure she spoke to Vince last week, but that was a month ago, and Sharise doesn't want her around anymore. Doc's tried to fire her on three separate occasions, but it hasn't stuck, and even if it had, it wouldn't matter. Nikki takes care of her, and she takes care of him, the way it's meant to be, they tell each other.

Nikki leaves for the studio and knows when he gets back that Lola will be waiting for him, smiling, at peace, high out of her mind, happy. All he wants is to see her happy, and smack works better than anything they've ever tried. She doesn't remember her mom, or what happened in Boston, but she'll mention her dad on occasion.

"He'd love you, Nikki," she murmurs, lips by his throat, pressing gentle kisses. She's so gentle now, gorgeously dreamy in her intoxication, "he loved rock and roll." And she bites gentle, leisurely, while Nikki smokes his way through another smack-laced joint.

"Mom would hate you," Nikki snorted, running his fingers through her hair, and Lola laughs a little at that, "hated anything that made me happy." Lola goes still at that and Nikki doesn't even realise what he's said. Lola will forget about it in an hour too, but for now, all she knows is that she needs Nikki to know that she loves him. More than anything. More than anyone.

They've always been too passionate for any sort of meaningful body worship, but now, in this dreamy unreality they've cocooned themselves in, Lola knows she's going to make him feel like a king or die trying.

After a session in the studio, Tommy comes back with Nikki, wondering after Lola after almost two full months of radio silence from her, comes to see what the fuck is up with them now.

Lola smiles like she's never known pain in her life.

It's all gentle touches, and encouraging words after he's throwing up in their bathroom after they drag him down to their level.

"The first time's hard for everyone," Nikki tells him with an almost alien sincerity, and Lola's rubbing his back, agreeing with Nikki quietly.

"What the fuck?" Tommy snarls, mouth tasting like bile, feeling woozy and high and terrible and great all at once. Stumbling from the bathroom, he all but flees from the house, angry, feeling betrayed.

But he's weak, so fucking weak, and all he tells Nikki, before the pair of them get high in the bathroom of the recording studio, is that he can't be around Lola anymore.

"What happened in Boston?" Nikki asks again, and only now does Tommy relent.

"Her mom has a new family." Tommy said, holding out the back of his hand for Nikki to tip some of the powder onto.

"Shit, really?" Nikki asks, eyes wide as he focuses on the drugs.

"White picket fence, dude, husband and kid, perfect little life," he paused, "did you know why she was really going?"

"Of course."

Tommy isn't quite sure why it stings, but then he's got smack up his nose, and all he can say is;

"She really fucking loves you, doesn't she?"

"She loves all of us," Nikki says easily, a truth he's become accustomed to, a truth he's accepted. Tommy's quiet about Lola after that, and Nikki doesn't think about it too hard.

Life becomes flashes of moments between highs; of dancing and drinking and partying; Lola's pretty sure she'd made up with Mick at some point, because she'll remember seeing him laying down at a party, and deciding to join him, to use his stomach as a pillow. He doesn't protest, he just pets her hair fondly.

"Do you feel left out that I never tried to fuck you?" She asked him once, in this hazy period of her life, and she thinks he laughs, low and gruff. They're both trying to nap in one of the various mansions the band has procured between the four of them, a party raging outside.

"That you remember," he corrects, and Lola flushes, "but no."

"I always just thought you had more self respect than that," Lola admits, and it's too honest for Mick who's definitely not drunk enough for Lola's heroin and coke induced honesty.

"Would you be offended if I said I did?" Mick tries to joke, but Lola, in complete seriousness, shakes her head. At this, Mick sighs, "girlie, you're like, like my..." and he can't bring himself to say the words, but Lola seems to get it.

"You're not my dad," she tells him flatly in response, and Mick laughs.

"I know, but if you got yourself hurt, I'd probably be sad about it," he tells her with a sweet sincerity, and Lola cracks a smile, "probably even sadder than I'd be about the rest of those chucklefucks."

Lola lays her head on his chest and he gives her a quiet hug.

"I'm sorry you're in pain." She says, so quiet he almost misses it.

"I'm always in pain, girlie," he tries to play it off, but Lola tucks herself closer to him.

"You don't deserve it." She'll tell him, and he'll never mention the exchange again, but he'll think about it often.

A month later, he watches her watch Tommy and Heather meet, and he'll see her heart quietly break. She's tucked up against Nikki, mostly out of it, and he's licking coke residue from a baggy, but all Lola can see how Tommy's smiling at that gorgeous blonde woman in a way she knew all too well.

"Girlie," Mick calls her, just as Vince announces he's off to get more drinks, and Razzle goes to accompany him. Lola looks to Mick, tears in her eyes. She doesn't even realise she's crying, "are you -?" Lola's gaze is already drifting back when he tries to ask her a question, and Nikki doesn't seem to notice her state.

"I'm fine," Lola says quietly, eyes wide, pupils dark and shiny, sniffling a little before she tears herself away, tapping Nikki's arm, "babe, where's the- the-" she won't say it out loud, but Nikki knows what she's after, and hands over a different baggy easily.

Lola passes out in the bathroom, Tommy falls in love, and Razzle doesn't come home.

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixx x oc #tommy lee #mick mars #tommy lee imagine #mick mars imagine #Vince Neil #the dirt #motley crue #motley crue imagine #the dirt imagine #drugs tw #heroin tw #the angry lizard writes

[notyetneedcoffee]

Not Exactly a Classic Dame (3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC (platonic friendship between Steve x OFC)

Warnings: Language, otherwise none this Chapter, but later

  Bucky Master List / Main Master List

CHAPTER 3  

“Hey, I brought you something.” Steve handed Bucky a stack of books as he walked into the apartment. “These are really good.” 

“Thanks.” Bucky shut the door behind him. “You want some coffee or anything before we go.” 

“No, I’m good.” Steve looked around at the now furnished room. It still lacked personal touches and decoration, but he liked what was there. He sat on the sofa, running his hand along the armrest. “This is nice.” 

“Yeah. It’s comfortable.” Bucky sat down to tie his running shoes.  

“Cas said she had a really great time when you took her for a ride.” Steve watched his friend. 

Bucky didn’t answer, didn’t even look up. 

“She likes your company, but it looks to me like you’re avoiding her.” 

No response. 

“So,” Steve crossed his arms and stared at the back of his best friend’s head. “Does she rub you the wrong way or are you just being a jerk?” 

Bucky whipped around, scowling. “Listen, if your girl. . .” 

“MY girl?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky shot to his feet, anger instantly flaring to the surface. “I’m trying to be respectful, okay? She’s -” He stopped himself. What? A flirt? Sweet? Sexy as hell? He finally growled, “Yours.” 

Bucky’s eye grew wide in confusion when Steve burst out laughing.  

“Oh, Buck.” He shook he head, still chuckling at the incredulous look on the other man’s face. “We’re not an item. Never have been. Cas is a sweetheart, and I adore her, but we’re not a couple.” 

A wave of confusion hit Bucky in the gut, making him even more angry. “But the way you two carry on? What the fuck? I’ve seen her hug and kiss on you. Eat off your plate without asking. There’s a picture of the two of you at some fancy shin-dig in your office. Steve, you gave her something you drew! What the else was I supposed to think?” 

“Okay, yeah.” Steve stood to face him. “We’re close and, I’ll admit, pretty affectionate. But it’s just gotten to be natural. Honestly, Buck, it’s completely innocent. We’re just close friends.” 

Not knowing what to say, Bucky just stared at the floor in front of Steve’s feet. He wasn’t about to apologize for barking. Steve laughed at him. The few interactions between himself and Cassidy came back in rapid fire memories. Sure, it made him feel good. Made him feel like sweeping her up in his arms and tasting those red lips. What if she was just, as Steve put it, being affectionate? He had no desire to be the fool. When he was younger, he may not have cared. He wasn’t the same man anymore. 

The silence stretched out and Steve watched the emotions play out on his friend’s face. He looked stoic, but the clench of his jaw, the small change in his eyes as he stared into nothing, gave him away. 

“I knew you would like her the minute I met her.” Steve sighed. “Even before I knew you were still alive.  I would sit there thinking, ‘Bucky would just be smitten with her’.” 

“You should’ve said something.”   

“I should have said something.” Steve agreed. “I didn’t think.” 

“She probably thinks I’m a jerk now.”  

“You are a jerk.” 

“Shut up, punk.” 

Steve grabbed Bucky by the shoulder, giving him a shake. “Come on. Let’s go for a run. After, maybe we’ll see if Cas is up for lunch.” 

“You sure you don’t what to go to the gym instead?” Bucky smirked. “Give me the chance to beat your ass for a while?” 

o o o o o  

Cassidy stood at her work station, bare foot and swaying in place to the soulful jazz music crooning from her speakers. Her mood danced on the edge of melancholy today. She indulged in an extra cappuccino and splurged on a chocolate pastry. Despite wearing her favorite outfit and doing her hair in her favorite style, she just didn’t feel herself. 

“Hey Cas, how ya doing?’ Steve’s voice came from the door.  

She didn’t turn away from the screen. Answering, voice flat. “Peachy.” 

“That didn’t sound convincing.” Bucky scoffed.  

Cas turned around somewhat surprised. “It’s about as good as it gets at the moment. Sorry.” 

“Would lunch in town help?” Steve smiled.  

“Maybe play hooky for a while.” Bucky added. 

She looked between the two, relenting to their grins. “Okay. Okay, fine. Give me a minute to send a couple emails. But I’m taking my car in case I want to bail on you two goofs. I don’t know how much I testosterone I can take.” 

As Cassidy drove a two-seat sports coupe, this left the guys in a quandary. Bucky decided to just follow on his bike and Steve rode in her car. They settled on a pool hall that served good barbecue not too far away. The establishment knew most of the Avengers so they wouldn’t be gawked at.  

Steve insisted on ordering, so Cas and Bucky picked one of the many empty tables. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned over the top toward her, aware they had a brief moment alone. “I feel like I should apologize.” 

Cas mirrored his pose, finding herself drawn in by his expressive blue eyes. “Oh?” 

“I’ve been a bit of a jerk, even if I had good intentions.” He nodded.  

“Suddenly giving me the cold shoulder has good intentions?”  

Bucky sighed. Of course she would call him on his bullshit without hesitation. He shot a sideways glance at Steve who was putting his wallet away and waiting for the pitcher of beer. “You’ll laugh at me.” 

“Try me.” 

“I was staying away because I thought you and Steve were together.” He said quietly, leaving how much he liked her implied.  

“He didn’t set you straight?” Her back went stiff. 

“Today he did.” 

She blew a little angry huff out her nose. When Steve sat down next to her with a pitcher of beer and a stack of glasses, she turned on him. “You can be a real asshole.” 

“What?!” 

“You are the first one to wave the great big ‘we’re just friends’ flag anytime anyone looks at the two of us even remotely sideways.” Cas poked him in the chest. 

“Well, I don’t want people to get the wrong idea.” Steve admitted sheepishly. 

“And yet you hung your best friend out to dry, you moron.” She poked him again, scowling. “Just go ahead a wait until things get all dramatic and awkward before you say anything.” Poke. “To who?” Poke. “Oh yeah, your best friend. Because that make perfect sense.” She threw her hands in the air. “Way to make everyone feel comfortable, Steve.” 

Bucky knew she was laying it on thick on purpose, being a little melodramatic to make a point. She looked adorable. He chewed his lip to hide his smile. Steve pouted, making it even funnier. “Give him a break, Doll. You’re going to make him cry.” 

Steve’s head fell to the side with a ‘really?’ look. Cas giggled.  

“Okay.” She began to pour the beers. “Here’s to clearing the air.” 

Happily, they clinked glasses and drank. By the time the assortment of ribs and brisket arrived, they were all feeling better and lively stories of how Cassidy helped Steve adjust to ‘modern times’ had Bucky laughing. He too had a lot to learn, but Cas took immense joy in the easily shocked Captain. 

“You should have seen him when I took him with me to get my tattoo finished.” Cas smiled into her beer glass.  

Bucky cocked an eyebrow at Steve. “You’ve been to a tattoo parlor before.” 

Steve looked horrified. “Buck, they do piercings. Everywhere. On private parts. Men and women.” 

“Huh?” 

“Not just their ears and lips and noses.” Steve refilled his glass, trying to keep from blushing as he recalled the graphic photo album Cas showed him. “They get their nipples and parts ‘down there’ pierced too.” 

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, trying to imagine. He turned to Cas, “Do you-” 

“Oh, hell no. I don’t go in for piercings.” She shook her head. “I’ve got plenty of ink, though. Every tattoo I have is for a reason, they’re are personal.” 

Cas showed him the inside of her right bicep. There a little black tattoo said 'stay strong'. “This one I got after my mom died of cancer. It’s in her handwriting. There’s a breaching whale on my right leg. I got it after a rough recovery when I was in my early twenties. Then there’s this,” She lifted the left sleeve of her blouse. The thick arrangement of old-fashioned flowers reminded Bucky of the ones on cards he’d see in the old days. Violets, pink peonies, red roses, blue irises, sat among detailed green leaves.  

“It goes all the way up my arm and part way down my back.” She lightly ran her fingers over the skin. “I know its dense, but it covers all the scars.” 

Bucky went from quietly studying the details, to staring at her blank face. His mouth opened, but the question didn’t emerge. The glassiness of her eyes stalling him. Steve’s hand covered the fingers of Cassidy’s hand. Her eye shifted to his hand and she blinked. 

Steve’s frown deepened. He squeezed her fingers. “It’s okay. We don’t have to-” 

Cas shook her head and rocked it all the way through her shoulders, like a small mimic of a dog shaking off water. “No. Nope. It’s okay.” She looked a Bucky and chewed her lower lip for a second. “When the invasion hit New York, I was there for a software conference. The building was hit and a big section collapsed. On all of us. Most died. It took twenty-six hours to dig me out. I was pinned. My arm was broken in four places. Collar bone crushed. I had to have my shoulder complete rebuilt. My back was a mess of imbedded concrete. But,” She finished half her beer in one go. “It could have been worse.” 

Bucky nodded slowly. Their eyes locked and he wished he knew the words to convey his understanding, his admiration. He wished he could tell her he understood her pain. Somehow, she must have seen something because he watched life light up her eyes again, just a little. A small smile touched his lips, “Well the tattoo is beautiful.” 

“Thanks.”  

“What do you say we shoot some pool?” Steve got up and kissed the side of her head. “I’ll go set up.” 

“You okay?” Bucky replaced Steve’s hand over hers.  

“Yeah,” She turned her palm over and entwined her fingers with his. “Most of the time it just hangs out in the back of my brain, you know? Sometimes it rears up its ugly head.” 

“A smell or sound.” He looked at her tiny hand in his own and nodded. “It doesn’t even make sense sometimes.” 

She glanced at Steve, who was bent over the digital juke box in the corner. Cas didn’t know if he was purposely giving them a moment or not, but she felt thankful either way. “It wasn’t even the pain, or injuries, or surgeries. It was being trapped. It was being completely utterly powerless. I screamed and screamed, and nothing. My world literally fell in around me. My world became fear and silence and darkness. . .  and it was like I suddenly ceased to exist.” 

Holy shit, he wanted to hold her. 

“I am so in awe of your strength. I cannot imagine how strong you are to survive what you have.” Cas whispered, staring at his thumb rubbing over her fingers. 

Bucky’s eye snapped up, but she stared at their hands. “You’re pretty damn strong too, you know.” 

A sideways smile slid across her face. “I fake it well.” 

“You’ll have to teach me that, sometime.” Bucky returned the look. 

Tony Bennett began playing across the speakers just as a loud crack echoed through the bar. Steve leaned across the table, lining up another shot. Another ball dropped into the side pocket. 

“Which of you are taking solids? If you actually get a turn.” 

 TAGS

@angelus320, @babyloutattoo89, @blacklightguidesnic, @buckyharms107th, @buckysloved, @daaeleira,@dinosthatrawr, @elizabethporch, @fanficfluffer, @i-fear-neither-death-nor-pain, @jksymons, @josie605, @karla-silva, @littlemonsterseatkittens, @mama-bop, @mawietobacky, @mom---nicole, @mps427, @ohtheangst, @rorynne, @runlikeclockwork, @siliverin, @something, @veryangelslimecash

(If you want to be added or removed or if anything has changed, please message me! Thanks!)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction

[voyager-into-the-unknown]

Plance Fic Part 5

A Day with the Holts

Part 4 can be found here if you missed it: https://truegryffindorforever2.tumblr.com/post/188743512520/plance

Lance arrived promptly at the Holt residence at 11:00 a.m. He walked up to their front doorstep and rang the doorbell. He heard Pidge’s voice from inside the house. “I’ll get it!” The door opened. Standing before him was a young woman that Lance almost didn’t recognize. She was wearing a light green, knee-length dress with a flouncy skirt, and with a darker green cardigan, and sensible black flats. Her hair was braided into a neat bun with a few stray curls to frame her face. Around her neck was the same golden heart-shaped locket that he had seen her wearing lately, but today she was also wearing sparkling golden earrings. He hadn’t ever seen Pidge dressed so femininely before. She had, apparently, experimented with the makeup that her mother bought her last night as well—eyeliner, eyeshadow, mascara...Her brows seemed thinner and more carefully shaped, her cheeks rosier, her lips pinker, with a bit of gloss. She was stunning. Lance just gaped at her in shock.

“Hi, Lance! Please come inside.”

“Pidge, you look beautiful! I mean, not that you don’t always look beautiful, but today you look especially glamorous.” He couldn’t stop staring at her. She looked up at him and gave him a dazzling smile. Her already rosy cheeks seemed even pinker for a moment.

“Thank you. You look very handsome in blue. It brings out your eyes.”

I knew it, he thought, feeling his face heat up. She thinks I look good in blue. “I brought dessert, and another surprise for later.” He was carrying a white box from the bakery and a white bag filled with the cookies that Hunk baked. His guitar case was slung across his back.

“Let’s put those on the sideboard,” she said, indicating the white packages. “Is that your guitar?”

“Yes, I was hoping to play a song that I wrote for you later today.”

“You wrote a song for me?” Pidge looked absolutely delighted. Her eyes sparkled more than her earrings.

“I wrote a part for you to sing as well. I’ll teach you to later if you’d like.”

“Sure!” She was genuinely enthusiastic about the idea. “You really are Mr. Perfect,” she gushed. Lance looked incredibly bashful for a moment, but then smiled and set his guitar down in the living room.

“The dining room is this way,” Pidge called to him, beckoning him to follow her. He followed her into the next room, where, he saw, Sam had just finished setting the table.

“Hello, Lance.”

“Commander Holt, sir.” They shook hands.

“Katie, the oven timer just went off.”

“I’ve got it, Mom!” She disappeared into the kitchen. Sam and Lance followed her.

“Hello, Mrs. Holt.”

“Lance, dear, it’s good to see you again. Sam, could you pour the drinks? And Lance, could you grab the salad bowl?” Pidge had a large casserole dish, that she held with oven mitts. Colleen was carrying a basket, covered with a white cloth. Everyone followed her back into the dining room, where Bae Bae was excitedly jumping around and wagging her tail.

“Down, girl!” he heard Pidge say to her dog.

It took several moments, but everyone took turns serving the item that they had carried into the dining room. When at last they were ready to be seated, Lance pulled out a chair for Pidge, and she thanked him. Sam and Colleen exchanged approving smiles at this gesture. Lance was the last to be seated, and upon doing so, Mr. Holt asked that they bow their heads to say grace before the meal. Bae Bae already had her little paws on Lance’s thigh and whined for attention. Lance waited until the prayer was over to give the family’s beloved pet a scratch behind her ears.

“Aw, who’s a good girl, huh?” Lance asked.

“Ruff!”

“Bae Bae, leave Lance alone,” Colleen said. Pidge was giggling at them.

“So, Lance, how are things going with the young pilots that you are training?” Sam asked.

“Great, sir. The data collection module on the new virtual reality flight simulator has been upgraded, thanks to Pidge and Matt. We are able to give the pilot trainees more accurate feedback on their strengths and weaknesses than ever before, and design an individual training program for each candidate.”

Sam lifted his eyebrows. “That’s good to hear. Iverson says you’re a natural when it comes to teaching the youngest cadets. He says you have a way with kids.”

Pidge smiled proudly at her boyfriend, then looked at her father. “He really does, Dad. They absolutely love him.” Lance smiled as he took a sip of his drink.

“Iverson may be retiring as early as next year. He may be making a recommendation soon regarding the next head flight instructor.”

“I don’t expect that it will be me. I’m too young, and I don’t have the experience.”

“Actually, all of the Paladins have more combat hours than any of the MFE pilots, Lance. There’s so much Altean technology in the new Ares fighters that I think that a Paladin might actually be an ideal candidate for the job. I can put in a good word for you if you’d like.”

Lance beamed at him. “Thank you. I would really appreciate that, sir.” Colleen and her daughter exchanged knowing looks. Sam was beginning to warm up to Lance a bit.

“We will need more pilots that are familiar with alien technology when the Defender Project is in the testing phase. The designs that Matt and Katie have shown me are nothing short of astonishing. I think their work will go beyond anything I could have dreamed of when I designed the Atlas.”

“The Atlas is the most amazing craft in the history of human ingenuity,” Pidge said proudly. She gestured across the table. “My father, the humble genius.”

“I mean it Katie. You and Matt have surpassed me, and I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Dad, you just like to brag on your family.”

“I suppose that I do.” He grinned at his wife. “Colleen, the Caesar salad and baked ziti are excellent, as always.”

“I agree,” said Lance. “Mrs. Holt, you’re a great cook. Thanks for inviting me over.” He took another bite, then chewed and swallowed. “The garlic knots are outstanding. They taste just like the ones my mom makes.”

“Well, thank you for the compliments, guys, but I am afraid I cannot accept any praise for the garlic knots, Lance. I didn’t make them.”

“Those are Katie’s,” said Sam. “It’s her great-grandmother’s recipe.”

Lance looked at Pidge in surprise. She smirked at him. “All this, and I can cook, too.” She winked at him. They all laughed.

Dessert consisted of coffee and some of the gourmet cheesecake sampler that Lance had bought from the bakery on Tesla Avenue. Sam tried the traditional New York style, Colleen selected a slice of the strawberry cheesecake, and Lance had a chocolate chip flavored piece. Pidge, of course, had a peanut butter flavored slice. I knew she would love that, Lance thought.

When everyone was finished, they talked for a bit, about Matt, the other Paladins, and current events. Then they all helped Colleen clear the table and clean the kitchen. “I’ll finish up here,” she insisted. “Sam will need help moving the furniture.

Lance removed his sweater and rolled up his sleeves, then helped Sam move the living room furniture aside, while Pidge went into her room to change her shoes. She came back wearing her new, strappy high heels, and without her cardigan. He hadn’t realized that her dress was sleeveless and was designed to accentuate her slender figure’s gentle curves. Lance didn’t think it was possible, but she looked even more beautiful than when she first greeted him earlier. As she descended the staircase, he stared at her, transfixed.

Sam cleared his throat to break Lance from his reverie.

“Well, it’s best if you review the basics facing the same direction. Lance, stand to her left. We will review the box step first. You should join hands.

“That’s it. Left foot forward, slide right, feet together, right foot back, slide left, feet together...good...you’re getting the hang of it. Count it in six...1,2,3,4,5,6...”

“We should try it in dance position now, Dad.”

“All right, turn to face each other. Lance, raise your left hand and take Katie’s right hand. Good. Now, Katie, put your left hand on his shoulder. Lance, put your right hand on her back like this...”

They practiced the waltz, first with the counts, then with the music. Then Lance taught her the rumba, a dance that originated in Cuba. They were so lost in the music and each other’s gaze that they didn’t even hear Matt enter through the front door. He kissed his mother’s cheek and hugged his father. Bae Bae tried to leap into Matt’s arms, so he picked her up and was greeted with slobbery doggy affection. “Who’s the best girl, huh? There’s my Bae Bae!” He set the dog down and then turned to his sibling.

“What’s this I see? I thought Lance was dating my baby sister, but I come home to find him dancing around our living room with this glamorous young woman that I have never seen before.”

The music stopped. “Matt!” Pidge hugged her brother.

“Hey, Matt.” Lance shook his hand.

“You two look great together. Pidge used to have to dance with me when we were kids, and I was so clumsy, I always stepped on her feet.”

“Well, Lance hasn’t stepped on my feet, not even once,” Pidge said cheerily.

“I hate to interrupt your dance lesson, but I need to talk to Dad for a bit.”

“Is it the new navigation system design?”

“There are a few glitches I thought you could help me with.”

“I can help too,” said Pidge.

“Oh no you don’t, young lady,” Colleen interrupted. “I’ll take over the lesson from here.”

Colleen had them review the triple step and the rock step, which resulted in Lance and Pidge dancing the jitterbug around the room, laughing to the upbeat jazzy soundtrack Colleen selected. Lance taught Pidge another Cuban dance, the cha cha. They even tried a few simple lifts. (Lance picked her up with ease because Pidge was so lightweight.) Matt and Sam had returned from Sam’s study by then, and the Holts applauded when the song ended.

“Outstanding!” Sam was impressed.

“Sam, how about we give these kids a break, and show them how we used to dance when we were young?”

Sam and Colleen demonstrated the foxtrot and the Viennese waltz with the ease of professional dancers, and Lance, Pidge, and Matt applauded. Matt left to run a few more errands while his sister and her boyfriend tried mimicking his parents demonstration.

When they had enough dancing for the day, Lance helped Sam put the living room back in order. Pidge had disappeared upstairs to change into a long green tunic, black leggings, and sensible shoes once more.

“There are plenty of leftovers we can eat for supper, and Matt is picking up pizza on his way home, so Lance should definitely stay to eat dinner with us.” Colleen was insistent.

“Thanks Mrs. Holt.” Lance reached for his guitar case. “I will sing for my supper, I but I need to practice first.”

“Come upstairs then,” Pidge suggested. Lance followed her up the stairs to her bedroom.

To be continued...

#plance #pidge #lance #katie holt #lance mcclain #sam holt #colleen holt #matt holt #plance fic

[inkstaineddaughter]

Soft Drop

Chapter 8: Not Losing a Daughter

Charlie/Reader

Fluff, implied past smut, light angst

3k words

You and Charlie can still risk lunch together, at least. As long as it’s not too early in the day or late enough to rouse suspicion. You also avoid ordering anything too sexy, like a French Dip or cherry pie. And you’re careful to not so much as brush a finger against his for fear that his touch would reveal your whole heart to everyone in the café. Who this guy? Hell no! I’ve known him forever, he’s like my big brother! This thing is entirely, 100 % platonic.

Charlie sighs into his clam chowder. He’s going to taste so fishy later, but you decide to let it go and pick your battles. “I feel like, with all this moving in and things changing as rapidly as they are, I think maybe we ought to talk to your parents?” he asks. “Soon?” The thought of talking to someone and saying everything out loud, is harrowing. Especially your parents. They’ve always been supportive of your choices, no matter how ridiculous they seemed. They’ve allowed you freedom to discover things on your own and always welcomed you back with open arms when things went awry. But you’re sure that even spin adultery into a learning opportunity. And will you get the A-Word out of your head? It’s not even true, really. Stop beating yourself up.

             “No, you’re totally right,” you agree. Parents? What parents? You never had any parents. No parents and that is not your boyfriend tight there. With the bowl of soup and the big brown eyes. Shit. “That’s going to be one hell of an interesting conversation though, isn’t it?” Ideally, you’d like to remain the Other Woman until the very last divorce detail is settled, then surprise your mom and dad with a flashy reveal. God, you’re so fucking in denial.

             “Your dad?” Charlie asks, gesturing with his spoon. “He’s not the ask-for-permission type, is he?” You snort a nose full of iced tea as you laugh mid-swallow. “Oh, hell no!” you cough. “We are too progressive for that.” Your dad would not be pleased at Charlie for asking a question like that. How dare you besmirch my strong, independent daughter’s honor?!  And though it won’t ever happen, you do like the fantasy scenario of your dad slapping Charlie in the face with a glove and challenging him to a duel over it. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Real-World Charlie says as he passes you a napkin so you can wipe your eyes.

             “Yeah, but Dad likes you!” And that part is, at least true. Even back in school, while you kept a steady stream of drama geeks coming through the house, Charlie and your dad always seemed to find something to connect over. Maybe it was because he was so mature. A wise and worldly graduate student.  And your mom? Well, she automatically became everyone’s mom, regardless of maturity. And you never said anything then and probably still wouldn’t bring it up, but you suspect that Charlie secretly enjoyed being taken care of.  

             “Yeah, well everybody likes you until you’re fucking their daughter,” Charlie mumbles as he glances over your shoulder and signals the waiter for the check. And you sigh. Really, who doesn’t live together and have sex on every single piece of furniture before their married? Or before they’re divorced?

             It’s a miracle how quickly schedules can be coordinated enough for everyone to be in the same place at the same time. Even so, you’re already hoarding newspapers and bidding farewell to a few of your more repellant articles of clothing (It’s your gym shirt! From high school!). The idea of co-habitation is absolutely intoxicating. But by Saturday afternoon, everything looks normal. Just bringing your frazzled, mid-divorce BFF over to Mom and Dad’s for lunch. And it really is all about the high neck blouse this season.  

 You arrive at your parents’ door with the customary bottle of wine. It didn’t seem like all that long ago that you would show up at their door with the offering of your dirty laundry. The Greeting Ritual continues with cheek kisses, hugs and handshakes. “How have you been?” your dad asks Charlie after one of those manly handshake-hugs where they try to knock each other’s vertebrae loose with the back pats. “One day at a time, you know?” Charlie responds. It’s a vague answer. A cop-out answer. Kind of like ‘Living the Dream’. No one even knows what The Dream actually is. Also, according to your dad, the wine is a ‘good year”. No one is really sure what that means either.  

             The subject of divorce follows you down the hall into the family room. Somehow, it makes you feel left out, makes you linger in the doorway like you’re watching your best friend from school and your best friend from music camp meet each other and bond without you. Your mom nods sympathetically. “Divorces have the power to cause so much damage, they really do. Especially with kids involved.”

             “You let us know if you need anything, all right?” Your dad settles back into his favorite spot on the sofa and pats the cushion next to him. Charlie hesitates and you meet his eye from across the room and duck your head. That way, no one can see you press your lips together and fight the giggle rising in your throat. He did say ‘anything’. Maybe asking for his daughter’s hand might be the right strategy after all.  

             “Drink, Charlie?” your mom asks as she breezes past you on her way to the kitchen.

             “Scotch?”

             “Rocks?”

             “You know me too well.” Charlie smiles fondly at her and you curse yourself for thinking that this would be awkward and awful. Your mom stops beside you and taps your arm. But you’re too engrossed in the conversation happening between Charlie and your dad to respond. It sounds like it might be important.

             “You still into Ken Burns?” your dad asks. Charlie nods as your mom taps you even harder. “(Y/N), come and help me in the kitchen for a minute.”

             “What an antiquated and sexist thing to say!” you hiss, but you follow her anyway. Behind you, you can hear Charlie and your dad continue their conversation. “1981,” your dad sounds almost offended. “A New Yorker, born and bred and never seen a documentary about the Brooklyn Bridge! Unbelievable!”

             In the kitchen, Charlie’s laughter is muted and your mom has already poured the scotch and uncorked the bottle of wine. She pushes the glass across the counter at you and fixes you with a patented penetrating Mom Stare. You feel a bit like a teenager again, like Y/N, did you sneak out of the house/raid the liquor cabinet/order a pay-per-view movie? You’re ready to confess anything when she asks, “Is Charlie all right? Really?”

Simultaneous relief and affection for your mom make you weak. Even if her interrogation skills are on point with you, she’s still “Everyone’s Mom” just like she always was, watching out for you and all your friends.

             “He’s okay,” you sigh, watching the ice cubes float and bump into each other in Charlie’s Scotch.  “Just… he’s just really stressed out. I admit, I have, like, zero experience with divorces, but this whole thing just seems like a complete circus. Like a circus on fire.” Your mom chuckles softly as she passes a glass of wine to you. “Welcome to being a real grownup, dear heart,” she says and holds up her own glass. “It’s weird and it’s messy and very seldom does any of it make sense.” She’s about to find out how “real” of a grownup you’ve become. Cheers!  

             The Ritual resumes as you eat and you and your three most loved people in the world are reduced to making small talk. You parents question you about work, sleep and vegetables. You compliment them both on dinner and your mom congratulates Charlie on the play. Your dad tells you that you have excellent taste in wine and you say thank you. Who’s turn is it next? Truth or Dare, Charlie? I dare you to eat my pussy after we get home tonight.    

             You fold your napkin in your lap and clear your throat. Should you tap your fork on your glass? That’s what people do, right? They’re all turning their eyes toward you anyway and you halfway expect somebody to pass you a mic. Dammit. You swallow a (rather large) sip of wine and continue.  “Okay, so, a thing happened,” you say. Well that sounded stupid. What thing?  The Russian Revolution? The Beatles at Shea Stadium? You peeing your pants at school in kindergarten? Both Charlie and your parents are giving you confused and concerned looks.

             “A reasonably sized thing,” you elaborate. Across the table, Charlie’s brows shoot up at your choice of words and you stumble. Size, right. Like his dick. Maybe if you just grabbed him by the collar and kissed the fuck out of him, Mom and Dad would get the message. Oh, you’re going to need more wine for this. “We,” you continue and pause again. You set your glass back down on the table. “We” sounds too accusatory and you feel like you should take more of the blame for this announcement. “I mean, I…” Shit! You’ve already blown it. It’s done. Seizing up your glass, you down the rest of your wine in two gulps. “Charlie and I have been sleeping together for the last, what?” You glance over at him for confirmation. “Six weeks?”

             “About that,” Charlie shrugs, following your lead and throwing caution to the wind. Your dad leans forward and frowns, resting his chin on his hands. You recognize it immediately as his “Physiatrist Pose”. Lord help you now, this is it.

             “Goodness!” your mom says after swallowing half of her own drink. “When I asked you if he was all right, that wasn’t quite what I meant.” And you’re a thirteen-year-old girl again whining, Mooooom, you’re emBARrassing me!

             But your attention turns immediately back to your dad. “Why?” he asks. A simple question, but one with so many explanations and excuses and little lies and apologies that can be woven into the answer. When Dad asks questions like these, they’re never mocking or angry. Just honest and open. But always expecting an honest answer in return.

              You hesitate and glance in Charlie’s direction because who else is going to help you when Mom and Dad have you on the rack? He’s frowning slightly, but still maintaining eye contact with all three of you. As you watch, he sets his glass down and tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear.              

             “Because I love him,” you blurt out. “I don’t know if I always have, God that sounds so stupid, or just if recent developments sort of made it happen.” Your dad is looking more sympathetic now and less like the objective medical professional and Charlie is looking only at you. “And it’s awful?” you go on. “I know that it’s awful to fall in love with someone who’s married and not even have the decency to wait for a divorce.”

             “People out there have done so much worse.” Your mom motions for you to hand her your empty glass and she refills it. “Lots of grey areas when it comes to issues of morality, my girl. And ‘Awful’ is always a relative term.” You smile gratefully at her. Suddenly, you can’t wait to strut down Broadway, wearing your scarlet A and you know you’ll rock that shit because you’re a grown ass woman who can fuck any guy she wants.  

             But the voice of your dad brings you back to earth.  He sits back in his chair and says, “You’ll have to forgive me for this, Charlie, because it really is a ridiculous question, but just what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?” Instead of bristling at the question, which you honestly expected, Charlie continues to look thoughtful. “It’s not a ridiculous question at all,” he shrugs. “I think it’s a totally valid question, especially considering the circumstances here. And I completely understand it.”  He glances back at you, smiles slightly and turns his attention back to your dad.

             “My son”, Charlie continues, “Now, granted he’s only eight, so there is quite a difference. But it scares the hell out of me to think that one day he’ll go out into the world and the rest of the world won’t love him as much as I do.” Are his eyes getting teary? You can’t tell from where you’re sitting. Tears are fucking pay dirt for your dad. A man who’s in touch with his emotions? He loves nothing more.

             Charlie continues. “I’d rather just keep him away from all of it, never let him experience anything that could hurt him. But of course, it doesn’t work that way.” Your dad nods knowingly at this statement and suddenly it’s just a chat, father to father. Only wanting what’s best for their children. You watch your dad and Charlie settle on common ground and meet in the middle. You realize how much your hand is shaking and carefully set down your glass.

             “As far as my intentions with (Y/N), I intend to love her. I already love her. And I intend to do everything I can to show her how much she is loved.” You know you should be watching your dad right now, scanning his face and body language for clues. Is he angry? Are his arms folded? Does he have a single glove in his hand? But even in the dining room where you grew up, the hallowed site of Thanksgiving dinners, birthday cakes and algebra homework, Charlie is the most familiar thing in the room. And you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

             “But I don’t want to spoil her and give her everything she wants, either.” Didn’t you warn him not to put you on a pedestal? And didn’t he tell you that he didn’t want you that far away? All that wine must be going to your brain, because this might be the part where you actually pass out. Charlie is frowning now, trying to find the right words for both you and your dad. “I want to work together with her,” he continues. “Create things with her and solve problems together. I intend to cherish her, absolutely, and always, always support her. But I’m not let her get away with shit either.” He looks from your dad to you and smiles. “Just like she’s always done for me.”

             Motherfucker, he’s going to make you cry too. In front of your parents. Your dad finally turns to look at you and you know he’s still expecting an honest response.  “I’m going to marry him,” you blurt. It’s one part defiant, one part simpering Disney Princess, but Daddy I LOVE him!

             Your mom coughs and splutters on her wine. “M-marry?!” she chokes. “Is it a little soon? Just a bit?”

             “Not right away!” you argue. “Jesus, Mother! Not like, before the ink on the divorce papers is dry, but eventually. Why not?” Why not watch him sign papers on the 3rd floor, fuck him in the elevator on the way up and have the Justice of the Peace marry you on the 7th floor?

             “Is this the first you’ve heard of this?” Dad cocks his head in Charlie’s direction with a playful smile. The camaraderie between them holding up still.

             Charlie scoffs and frowns. “No, of course not. I asked her. Last week sometime.”

             “Saturday,” you whisper. Then louder.  “It was Saturday, remember? We went to dinner that night.”  You can tell from the way he looks at you that Charlie absolutely remembers. But your parents do not need to be privy to the all the events of that night: fingering in the cab, fingering in the hotel room, sex on the bed, sex in the shower, Charlie’s tongue in your cunt. Nope, just dinner.

             Your mom scrunches up her face and shrugs. “Well, it would definitely be frowned upon in polite society.”

             “Considered adultery,” your dad adds and you deflate. Fuck you, A-Word! Charlie shakes his head, looking down at his napkin. “I admit, Mr. (L/N) the timing is not ideal.”

             “But polite society never had a place in this house.” And now your eyes are totally tearing up as you smile at your mom. She’s so great. “Speaking of houses,” you sniff and dab at your eyes. “I’m moving in with him. I gave notice yesterday.” And this might be the point where you push things too far. Your dad does an honest-to-God facepalm and Mom’s eyes are as big as Grandma’s Noritake china.

             “Is it…?” she asks. “Is it a great idea? Now? Ummmm. Jumping in a little soon.” You’re the impulsive, emotional one. But Charlie, older and wiser, a responsible father for God’s sake! He should be discouraging this! Well, fuck that. Time to bring out the princess again. But this time, she’s not a naive and insufferable twit. This time, she’s a real grown-up. Wearing a high-neck blouse instead of her frilly princess dress.

             And you explain to them, in detail, about offsetting the cost of Charlie’s court expenses, about the trial moving and all the strain it’s going to cause. Henry.  And, really, this isn’t just you impetuously throwing yourself onto some guy’s dick. It’s Charlie! Look at him! Sitting there at the table in his cardigan and his hair is so pretty and yes, it really is as soft as it looks! “Guys look,” you say to Mom and Dad. “This is something that we’ve given so much thought to! We’ve done the homework, made lists and crunched numbers.”

             “It makes sense,” Charlie adds. “It really does.”  

             “Plus,” you reach for your refilled wine glass and shrug. “I’m not exactly asking permission, here.” Jesus Christ, that came out sounding a lot nastier than you had intended and you splutter an apology. If the bratty princess’s parents don’t punish her, then her betrothed just may have to bend her over his own knee. That might be something that warrants further investigation. But it will have to wait until later. “I don’t have anything to hide from you guys,” you tell your mom and dad. “You deserve better than that. But this is what it is.” And they’re still there.    

             In the end, all Mom and Dad do is offer tentative congratulations and support you, and Charlie now too, with unconditional love. “Family is family,” your dad says firmly, sounding much more like a mob boss than a child psychiatrist. Of course, they also offer to help you pack and move. Since a crew of burly stagehands has also been recruited to help, it should be easy work now.

      And when you stand by the front door getting ready to leave, Charlie holds out your jacket for you and your mom touches his cheek. “Take care of yourself now too,” she reminds him. Still everyone’s mom.

#Soft Drop #Ew my fic #Charlie/Reader #Charlie/OC #mariage story #Charlie Barber #new girlfriend story #Chocolate Chip Charlie

[searchforthescars]

Saying Your Names

Emori walks into the bar Murphy manages. Romance ensues. Part of a universe I plan on expanding eventually. Inspired by true events.

Merry Christmas, my dear @maelidpoetree. I love you lots and lots and I’m so glad these crazy kids brought us together.

Title, excerpts from Richard Siken’s Saying Your Names. Also on Ao3.

Imagine a room, a sudden glow. Here is my hand, my heart, my throat, my wrist.

As Emori stands in the center of the room, holding a drink in one hand and a purse that isn’t hers in the other, she renews her commitment to never forgive Raven Reyes for dragging her out of the lab on a Friday night.

Thankfully, it’s only 8:30. The bar is nearly empty; most of its patrons are in the back room playing pool or outside on the patio. No one is drunk enough to be entertaining, and the music playing is a surprisingly eclectic mix of pop hits and soft rock. She hasn’t even seen a bartender, although she knows there must be one since Raven didn’t make her own drink. 

Actually, maybe she did. Emori wouldn’t put it past her coworker to shove back behind the bar and do it herself.

“What, you’re not having anything?” the object of her ire asks, coming up behind her and taking both drink and purse in one fell swoop. “Emori, come on.”

“No.” Emori says, firmly. She hears footsteps behind her but doesn’t turn around. “I don’t drink.”

Raven snort, taking a sip of hers. “You do too. I saw you and Monty at Bellamy’s party.”

“That was beer.”

“So get beer. It’s all alcohol. It’ll all get you drunk.”

“Are you trying to get her wasted or get her laid, Reyes?”

Emori turns toward the sound of the voice. He’s standing behind the bar, bracing both hands against the worn wood counter. When his eyes meet hers, they rest there for a moment. Blue, like ice. They calculate something she can’t name. His face, lit up eerily by the neon signs behind him, shifts in recognition. She doesn’t know why. Isn’t sure she wants to

Raven lifts a triumphant middle finger. “She’s new in town, she never goes out and I’m bound by the contract of friendship to make sure she has a good time.”

“Friendship?” He raises an eyebrow at Emori before smirking at Raven. “I thought I was your only friend.”

Emori opens her mouth to answer but a snapCRASH from the back tears her concentration away. 

“Excuse me,” the bartender says, half-jogging around the bar. “Reyes, sit down. I’ll be right back.”

He jogs toward the pool hall and Raven magnanimously takes a seat on one of the rickety silver bar stools. Emori reluctantly follows suit, clasping both her hands atop the counter and staring at the red wall ahead of her.

There’s a rather respectable assortment of alcohol displayed there, everything from Jack Daniels to blueberry vodka, which Otan told her is the worst-tasting alcohol out there. Above the tiered bottles are the standard licenses, all haphazardly framed and hung in crooked patterns. 

“Cool, aren’t they?”

Emori knows Raven can’t be talking about the licenses. “What?”

“The drawings.” Raven gestures. Emori looks to the side, at the pieces of paper tacked into the flaking plaster, waving in the lazy breeze from the rotating fan.

“Are those bar napkins?”

Raven nods. “Yeah. Sometimes people draw on them. J pins up the good ones.”

“J?”

“John. Everyone calls him Murphy, though.”

“Hmm.” Emori squints at the drawings. Most of them are caricatures of who Emori guesses are bartenders, but there are some perspectives of the bar itself that surprise her. Whoever drew those wasn’t drunk. Either that, or they were too highly-trained for it to matter.

She watches as Raven’s friend – John – rounds the bar. His eyes immediately go to her and, despite her instincts, she stares straight back, gratified when he looks away, a red flush rising to his cheeks.

Without saying anything, he grabs a glass and fills it with ice, then water. “Here,” he says, sliding it to Emori. “If you work with Raven, you probably never eat or drink anything that isn’t absurdly unhealthy.”

He’s not wrong. “Thanks.”

He looks disarmed all of a sudden, as if unfamiliar with the concept of gratitude. “For what?”

“For the water.”

He blinks, slowly. “It- no problem.” A frown creases the skin between his brows, but he doesn’t say anything, just crosses to Raven’s other side and leans his forearms on the bar. “What’s up with you, Reyes?”

Raven launches into a rant about people and things Emori doesn’t know but John clearly does. In the absence of anything else with which to entertain herself, Emori does what she does best: waits and watches and studies.

John’s profile is sharp, all angles and corners, a defined jaw and delicate mouth, strong nose and long eyelashes. When he smiles, it’s sharp and sudden like a knife, slashing across his face for a moment and vanishing the next. He laughs, once, when Raven recounts something Bellamy did, and it sounds sarcastic and doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

She doesn’t know why, but she wants to touch some part of him under all that gruffness. He keeps cutting his eyes over to her and she keeps looking away. He keeps talking to Raven and she keeps listening to the room around her while staring straight at his face.

Emori’s water is half gone when the front door creaks open and Raven hops to her feet. “Is that Lexa?” she asks, half teasing. “At a bar? Who knew?”

“Fuck off,” Lexa grumbles, adjusting her blazer, her shoes tapping on the floor as she sidesteps Raven and heads straight for the pool hall. “I’m going to hit on the hottie playing pool back there.”

“That’s your wife!” Raven yells, at the same time another unfamiliar voice shouts, “Don’t objectify me, woman!”

Lexa vanishes and Raven follows, seemingly unaware that there are people in the back she might know. Emori can’t help but laugh as she goes. When she turns around, John is smiling.

“Something funny, John?”

He frowns again, that same soft crease in his brow. Emori frowns too, reflexively. “No,” he says, and she doesn’t believe him. “Raven’s just…. Raven. I’ve known her long enough to find it all funny.”

“How long have you known her?”

John sighs, thinking. “Since fourth grade, I think. We both had shit moms and no dads. I’d bring her food and she’d help me with my homework.”

Something in Emori’s chest shivers. “That’s... I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, lean shoulders working under his worn grey shirt. “I’m guessing you had the same time of it that I did.”

Emori frowns, tilting her head. “Why?”

He taps his cheekbone where the thick knife scar peeks through her makeup. Then he taps the spot where her tattoo arches above her eyebrow. “No one gets a tattoo like that for fun.”

She doesn’t want to fight with Raven’s friend, so she doesn’t get defensive, even though every fiber of her being begs her to. But she’s trying to be different. Not necessarily better. But different.

“No,” she agrees softly. “I didn’t.”

They regard each other for a quiet moment. His eyes go soft, then hard, then soft again. “Where did you come from?”

“Baltimore.”

His mouth twists with the hint of a smile. “How the hell’d you end up in Virginia?”

“I drove.”

He does smile at that. “I mean, why here?”

“There wasn’t anywhere else to go.”

She could’ve gone into detail. There’s a story there, one about her high-achieving roommate at MIT, every bit the scholarship kid Emori wished she was, and how said roommate inherited a mechanical engineering lab somehow and begged Emori to come work with her.

“You can get your masters online,” Raven had said, propping herself up on one elbow, resting her head on Emori’s shoulder. They were reclining on Emori’s narrow bed in her even narrower studio apartment that felt like a converted alleyway with how little space there was to move. But it was cheap. “You’re super qualified even now with all your experience-”

“Criminal acts-”

“Experience, and no one has to know about your-

“Criminal record-”

“Past indiscretions, so will you please shut up and take the job?”

Obviously, she did take it. A few years later, but she took it nonetheless. But that’s not a story she thinks John wants to hear.

John is watching her expression. He hikes himself up to sit atop the row of coolers behind him and braces his hands on his thighs. “Do you like it here?”

Emori looks around. Shrugs. “Yeah. It’s okay.”

“This town is boring as shit,” says the guy sitting down the bar from her. “You’re from a big city; you should know.”

“You’re welcome to fuck right back off to Richmond, Miller,” John says easily, rolling his eyes conspiratorially at Emori.

“Richmond isn’t even a big city,” Raven says, effortlessly reinserting herself into the conversation. Her long hair swings against Emori’s arm when she settles in. “Go to Philly. That’s a big city.”

Miller says something derisive into his beer. Raven cracks a smile and switches to Emori’s other side so she can rib him some more. Emori used to be good at that: talking to people, making them like her and trust her, only so she could use them later.

She doesn’t want to use people anymore, and she doesn’t trust that those old habits have died completely, so she stays in her seat and watches John move about the bar.

“Do you- sorry- do you have any more quarters?” a slim woman with wild dark hair and big brown eyes asks, sliding in next to Emori and leaning across the counter. “Lexa’s bill got stuck in the change machine again.”

John nods, popping over the cash register. “I keep trying to get that thing serviced, but…”

“That’s what he said!” Raven calls, making Miller cackle. The woman beside Emori rolls her eyes. John hands her the quarters with a flourish. Their skin - his light, hers dark and smooth - contrast beautifully. 

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” he says cheekily. The woman makes a motion with her hand and fingers, elegant and fast. “Hey!” he squawks. “Did she just tell me to fuck off?”

“I think so,” Emori says, laughing a little. “My ASL is rusty but…”

John shakes his head ruefully. “The number of languages I’ve been cursed out in is growing.”

“Maybe don’t be such a caberon,” Raven says smoothly.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Yeah, this time.”

John turns his back on Raven, fixing those strange blue eyes on hers. “Will you come back here, do you think?” He sounds like a hopeful child, looks about the same, too.

Emori shrugs. “Maybe. Bars aren’t really my scene.”

John nods, slow. “Fair. But you’re nice to talk to. I could use the company.”

Raven reaches over to pluck John’s cell phone from his shirt pocket. “She’ll call you,” she tells John, typing in what Emori assumes is her number. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I will text him,” Emori gripes, slapping Raven’s arm, “and only if I feel like it.”

“Text, call, whatever,” John says. Raven replaces his phone. “I’d like that.”

The woman who asked John for quarters earlier comes back up, squeezing in beside Raven. Raven overbalances on her bad leg, trying to brace herself between the counter and the stool, and falls forward onto Emori, ripping the wrap from Emori’s left hand in the process.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Raven grabs the cloth from the floor and hands it to Emori. The woman behind Raven is also apologizing, but Raven waves her off. “You okay?”

Emori balls up the cloth in her hand. “Fine.” John is watching her. Great.

“Where’ve you been hiding that?” he asks, voice all boyish admiration and respect. “Damn, you could take out a guy with that. Might wanna make you a bouncer here.”

Emori smiles a little at that, at the impressed way he’s staring at her hand, so different from the awkward half-stares she usually gets. “I normally don’t cover it up anymore. But I didn’t want to embarrass Raven, so-”

“You don’t embarrass me,” Raven snaps, flicking Emori’s ear. Down the bar, someone signals. As soon as John turns his back, Raven leans forward. “Emori!”

“What?”

“You like him!”

“I don’t know him.”

Raven shrugs. “You still like him. There’s no harm in getting to know him.”

“Raven.”

Raven’s eyes go soft. They glitter in the faint neon lights. “Look. I know you’ve been hurt. I know you’re trying to put down roots. You deserve to love and be loved back. You deserve to give yourself a chance. So give yourself, and Murphy, a shot.”

“But-”

“I’M NOT ABOVE SHOUTING OVER YOU!”

Emori laughs. “Damn, okay!”

------

Say hallelujah, say goodnight, say it over the canned music and your feet won’t stumble, his face getting larger, the rest blurring on every side. 

It’s not pretty when John bleeds.

Emori enters the bar to absolute chaos. In addition to the usual Friday night crowd, there also appears to be a fight going on between John and a patron, one the door guards are unsuccessfully trying to break up.

So Emori tries, with middling results. She takes the woman’s elbow to the cheek and someone’s shoulder to the jaw, but manages to haul John outside by his shirt and deposit him rather aggressively on the curb, where she stands over him and watches unapologetically while he spits out blood.

“What the fuck?” She still sounds breathless despite the minimal physical exertion on her part. “John, dammit, what were you thinking? Actually, no, don’t answer that.”

He blinks up at her, the blood on his pale face standing out like a scar. “I got carried away?” Emori snorts. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I just get...too angry sometimes.”

“Murphy!” Harper sticks her head out the door. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Don’t you have barbacking to do?” he snaps back, absent any real heat. Harper rolls her eyes in Emori’s direction and disappears. John heaves a sigh and hangs his head. “I fucked up.”

“At least you won’t get fired,” Emori says, dry. “Being the owner and all.”

“Small mercy.” He lifts his head again. “Don’t tell Raven.”

Not like it would do any good. “Okay. Sure. But if she asks, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Fair.” He hikes himself to his feet. “Sorry you had to see that. And jump in.”

Emori feels her cheek throb. “It’s okay. I’m good at breaking up fights. Better at being in them. I brawled in alleys a lot as a kid.”

“You- What?” There’s a laugh in his voice that catches. “I can’t picture that at all.”

Emori only realizes how close she is to him when the air of his words skates over her flushed cheeks. “Ask Raven. I’m a fighter.”

“I don’t doubt it.” It sounds like his mouth, as well as his tone, is dry. “It’s a little scary, come to think of it.”

“Guess you’re going to have to keep an eye on me then.”

His eyes drop to her mouth. She steps back. A cool wind blows, taking music from the outside patio with it. Emori hasn’t been drinking but her vision still swims.

“I should get the blood off my face,” he says softly, turning halfway towards the door. “Don’t want to scare the children.”

“If there are kids in the bar, you have a whole other set of problems.” John laughs. Emori follows him inside.

As soon as she enters the pool hall, she’s accosted by Lexa, collar askew and hair a mess. “What the fuck happened in there?” 

Emori waves it off. “Nothing. John just lost his cool.”

“I’ll say. He’s lucky that bitch didn’t want to press charges.” Lexa adjusts her shirt cuffs. Her wife, Costia, appears behind her and fixes her collar. “I helped throw her out.”

“You seriously don’t know who that was?” asks a third woman, tall and imposing, lounging in a corner booth and nursing a Long Island iced tea. “That was Ontari.”

“Who?” Emori asks at the same time Costia winces and Lexa snarls, “the fuck is she doing here?”

“Lexa, shush. Ontari is Murphy’s ex.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“Echo, you too. Hush.”

Echo takes a sip. “Sorry, Cos.”

“She was awful to Murphy and none of us have really forgiven her for it.”

Now Emori wishes she would’ve done some damage. “He didn’t say anything.”

Costia smiles. “He wouldn’t. I didn’t even hear the fight until it was over.”

Lexa passes her a pool cue. “That’s because you turn your hearing aid off when you shoot pool.”

“It helps me concentrate,” Costia snaps without any heat. She turns to the table and Emori turns to Echo.

“Why did she come here? Do you know?”

Echo stares at Emori for a long moment before she answers. “Ontari doesn’t do well with the word ‘no.’ Or with anything requiring consent or boundaries.”

Emori feels nauseous. “Oh.”

From the arch of Echo’s brow, Emori can tell she knows Emori understands. “He’ll tell you if it matters. But I wouldn’t ask.”

“I won’t.”

It’s a little awkward, standing there, cheeks still hot, Echo is sizing her up, face unreadable. “You’re Raven’s friend.”

“Yes.”

“She speaks highly of you.”

“I’m...glad.” It sounds like a question. The corner of Echo’s mouth twitches.

“Quit giving her a hard time,” Raven says, rounding the corner aggressively and plopping down near Echo. “Emori, J wants to see you up front.”

Grateful for the escape from Echo’s prying eyes, Emori weaves toward the bar. It’s calmed down notably since the fight; John has wiped the blood from his face and is jittering around near the end of the bar.

“Go out with me,” he says in a rush as soon as she gets close enough to hear him. “Please?”

She wants to pretend she couldn’t hear him over the loud music, but she did. She wants to pretend she has a reason to say no, but she wants to say yes.

She nods. “Okay.”

He smiles, sharp and quick, disbelieving. “Really?”

She nods again. “Yeah.”

His smile widens. Before she can think twice, she gets up on her toes to kiss his cheek. John groans when Raven starts cheering obnoxiously from the doorway to the pool hall. Emori hides a smile against his shoulder. 

----

Here are the illuminated cities at the center of me, and here is the center of me, which is a lake, which is a well that we can drink from, but I can’t go through with it.

He shows her the rooftop above the bar, a tiny balcony with a door that leads back to his apartment above the establishment. She figures it’s a special place to him, somehow; he talks about it quietly and tells her she’s one of three people who has seen it. But that’s all he says as they regard the expanse of homes, dark in the 3 a.m. quiet. 

“It’s nice.” He hums. “Peaceful.”

“I didn’t know you were a criminal,” John says suddenly.

“What?”

“Someone was talking shit at the bar.” He’s not looking at her. “But I looked it up and it’s true.”

Emori’s heart sinks to her feet. “John, I-”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts. “But why wouldn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t realize you were entitled to my past.”

“Isn’t that something you tell the person you’re dating?”

Emori laughs. “That’s rich coming from the guy who won’t call me his girlfriend.”

“You know-”

“I know you’re good at loving me when we’re alone, but not when anyone else could see us, let alone call you on it.”

Her bitter words just hang there. They stare at each other, chests heaving, the humid air heavy in their lungs. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, soft. “I had no right to-”

“It’s okay.” Emori’s never been good with apologies. “I’m sorry too.”

He shakes his head. “You’re right. I’m just scared.”

“Of me?”

“No. Of- People look out for me here. It’s weird, but they do. And I don’t want them to come after you if this doesn’t work.”

“Do you think it won’t?” 

She tries to convince herself his answer doesn’t matter. But when he shakes his head, relief floods into her bones. “I really like you, Emori.”

She smiles. “Me too.”

He takes her hand, the big one. “Would you let me kiss you someday?”

Emori laughs a little, low in her throat. “Let you?”

“Hey, I’m a classy guy. I always get permission.” He says it with that boyish smile Emori adores, and it’s enough to prompt her rising up and pressing her lips to his.

“Oh,” he breathes when they break apart. “Okay.”

Emori laughs out loud, the light and joyous sound ringing over the streets below. “That bad, huh?”

He catches at her waist to pull her closer. “The opposite,” he murmurs, mouth brushing hers. She closes the gap, pressing her tongue to his lower lip, hand tightening on his shoulder when he lets out a soft sound.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she breathes when they break apart, resting her forehead against his. “I wasn’t supposed to get attached.”

He kisses her nose. “Is it so bad?”

A humid wind whips her hair. “I guess not.”

John kisses her again. “Good.” Another kiss. “Be a shame if you regretted-” Another kiss- “All this.”

Emori leans into him, pinning him to the wall near the door. “Nope,” she breathes. “No regrets. Not even one.”

#saying your names #memori fanfiction #memori fanfic #maelidpoetree #merry heckin christmas Liz I kept the angst to a minimum for you <3333

[slothgiirl]

shadowplay ch 4

You finally go grocery shopping after work on friday, grabbing plenty of bread and fruit and mostly yogurt that doubles as both breakfast and a snack and some beans while your at it. Nothing like homemade beans.

This part of adulthood was awful, not just working but actually having to come home and do things. You better understood why your mum and dad got annoyed when they got home and you still hadn't done the dishes.

You think of texting Alex this but think better of it. You weren't quite friends. So you send a text to Sam instead.

Her succinct reply is grow up babes.

You'd last seen her an hour ago during work and she'd gone to get drinks with Matt and Vy but you'd been an adult and gone to get groceries.

And then you get home and eat toast with jam and one of the apples you got. Hardly an actual meal.

Your phone buzzes. Alex <3 flashing on the lock screen. want 2 gt drinks. Which is so unAlex you immediately call him.  

"Who are you and what have you done to Alex," you joke and hope he picks up on it. Maybe he was right about calling being better after all. Not that you'd ever tell him that. He'd be unbearably smug.

"Love," he answers with a laugh, "just Zack here thinking he was being funneh. But the offer still stands if your up for it? I know works been busy." It was nice of him to give me an easy out. But staying in on a Friday night was terribly depressing.

"Where?"

You take the tube over to a more fashionable area of east london, over in Hackney. The bars themed like a seventies magazine interpretation of a living room, playing early Bowie.

Alex greets you with a kiss on your mouth, soft and lingering just enough that you feel off kilter, unable to hide the stiffness in your shoulders. Here where everyone can see.

And then your taking a seat and shaking Zack's hand. Alex ordering you a cranberry vodka. The same drink you'd been buying since you realized beer was gross. "Working on some stuff here in London," he shrugs.

"Still quite offended you didn't ask to stay at mine," Alex pouts, clearly on his way to drunk, hand resting on your tigh. You can't not be hyperaware of his touch, electric against your skin.

"I did think of you," Zack protests, "but Allison, my old roommate asked first and I said yes. Besides man you like dropped off the face of the earth. Holed up."

"I like to decompress," he states, sipping at his beer. "And this one here has me flying back."

You snort, "well you offer," you lie because you refuse to be a fake bitch. If this is all fake, then your going to be the fake version of yourself you teenage self would've been proud of. "And I'm not going to say no Al!"

Alex smiles boyishly charming, and really does anyone buy his cool guy act when he's so obviously a sweetheart. You can imagine him going out of his way to help an old lady carry her bags upstairs.

"Ahh," Zack laughs, "and he said he didn't want to bhover you," he finishes in a terrible cockney accent. Americans. "This is exactly why Miles and Matt didn't invite you on our little getaway we have coming up."

Suddenly alert, Alex goes, "what! What trip!"

Zack giggles. "Just a little boys trip. Breanna was going to go but she said it'd be too much testosterone for her to stomach alone."

"And I wasn't invited?"

"Guess you were too busy," Zack says smugly. Before turning to you, "Forgive me for texting you under false pretenses but it's Alex. Gotta get things out of him somehow."

"Really," you wonder out loud, "I've never had any trouble with that. He just rambles a bunch."

"Oi," Alex protests, looking faux betrayed at you, like a puppy when you refuse to give them more treats, "you going with them?"]

Zack nods. "I'm guessing you know about the bands?"

"I do," you reply, finishing your drink and feeling the drunk giddyness bubble up in you, Alex's hand on your tigh warm as he rubs circles into your skin. It had been brilliant of you to change into a mini skirt that had survived many a trips to the club. "Which one are you in?"

"The last shadow puppets though it's really Alex's and Miles' baby." You make a note to listen to some songs.

You turn to Alex, catching him staring at you with the dreaminess of the blissfully drunk, face flushed, "Have a favorite child?"

He shakes his head, "that's comparing apples to oranges darling."

"Least you could do," you tease him, exciting laughter out of him.

"You guys should both come though," Zack offers, "bet Breanna would come then and that would make Helders happy as fuck!"

"When's the trip," you ask, curious though by then this will be over. Maybe you and Alex can be amicable fake exes. You'd never managed to stay friends with any past lovers. But that was because a) you lived in different places and drifted apart and b) they were assholes though that was only really your last boyfriend.

"In two months. We've rented a cabin in Northern California. There's a lake. It looks sick."

You look at Alex and hope he's not too drunk to say something plausible, smiling in amusement as he taps in tune with the beat to the music playing. You would recognize Donna Summer anywhere.

"I don't know mate," Alex shrugs, looking over at you, his eyes meeting yours, trying to gauge your response, "probably can't get work off with this late of a notice?"

That wasn't true at all. And you had so many saved up vacation days apart from the mandatory ones. But it was nice that Alex had already found an excuse. "I'll have to see," you add, making sure to look adoringly at Alex, not a hard thing to do, it was much harder to keep a straight face, to keep from laughing when you felt so light and bubbly after a few drinks, his leg bumping into yours as he taps the beat playing, like you were heartbroken over the idea of not being able to go with him and his friends.

"Just let me or the boys know," Zack tells you both. "Breanna would probably love too come if she wasn't the only girl." Then orders a round and you all proceed to get comfortably drunk.

Zack telling you all about his touring misadventures and a memorable skinny dipping adventure where the band had forgotten where they'd hidden their clothes. Alex chiming in about his and Matt's adventure to procure weed "or something with a bit more of a kick," in the early days and spending one hundred dollars on bunk acid.

"Fooking wankers," he mutters.

"In college someone got some prerolled joints and a bunch of us were all psyched to go smoke it after school," you tell the boys, blushing at the memory of your dumb antics, "all nerdy kids who did not know how to roll a joint and we forgot to get a lighter."

"No fooking way love," Alex laughs in delight. "I would've rolled you the best joint."

You wrinkle your nose, "I prefer edibles if I'm being honest. Or shrooms. Did you see how microdosing blew up all of a sudden?"

Zack slaps the table, "and among moms of all people!"

"Mums be getting lit!"

You offer to go order the next round, two more beers and a cranberry vodka. Asking politely if there wasn't a strokes song that would fit into the theme.

The man behind the bar hands you the drinks and waves you off with, "drag queen works."

The song starts as you get back to the table, placing the drinks down.

"The strokes," Alex drunkenly proclaims, "what kind of witchcraft 'ave you done love?" He pulls you close against him before kissing you madly, tasting of beer and tobacco against your mouth, not a hit of pretending about it, as you stiffen in his arms in surprise before melting against his touch not even a second layer.

To your surprise, instead of feeling relief when he pulls away, singing along with Zack who also knows the words, it's a sharp yearning, the sudden prick of a needle in your finger. It's stupid. You're being stupid.

Alex would've never given you a second glance if it hadn't been for Arielle. And why would he when he went around dating girls like Arielle, models who were sweet on top of being insanely beautiful.  

And now you just want to go home.

Instead you laugh it off, "I just asked nicely Al. Works wonders."

Zack snorts, "their new stuff is so underrated."

"It is," Alex cries out.

"Oh my god you are drunk!"

"And happy! I'm so happy you came love! I wasn't sure you would."

"Only for you Alex." Which is true in more ways than one. You doubt you would have agreed to all this with just anyone. No. Alex was special. Enough charisma to charm the whole world.

He leans into kiss you again, with the same hunger as before and reluctantly you pull away, still unsure about that thrum of want running through your veins and what to do about it. Now was not the time to figure that out. "Time to go home," you suggest and hope Zack goes his own way. As funny as he's been, you need a cold shower and to remind Al he's not actually dating you.

Alex nods eagerly, sliding cash on the table and waving a hastily goodbye to Zack.

He flags a cab down for you both and gives the driver your address, his arms still wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close to him. It's too much. He's just drunk. And you don't want to do anything stupid with him. Not with the lie. You'd much rather be good friends at the end of all this.

"Al," you protest, slipping out of his hold as he goes in to press another kiss to your lips, "no."

He looks like a kicked puppy, wide eyes and pouty lips, but doesn't make another move, gaze focused on you with an embarrassing amount of earnestness.

"You can't-," you start, "you can't have things both ways. And we agreed. There's lines."

With obvious reluctance he nods, "sorry love," he slurs, slumping in his seat, looking out the window of the cab.

"It's okay," you tell him, because who hasn't been drunk and made bad decisions, settling down next to him again. The heat of his body doing wonders to take the edge off.

It's just Alex.

You both come up into your flat.

"You sure it's alright," Alex slurs, wavering in the doorway looking as unsure as you feel, "I'll be fine at home."

"I'll sleep a lot better knowing your fine," you tell him, "come on rockstar," and drag him in. He's drunk. And you care about him too much to just let him go off on his own.

You both collapse into your bed, fourteen minutes past three in the morning. "I haven't been out so late in ages," you tell him. "My ex, Tom, he always said it was because I'm not fun." It had made you feel like shit but having just gotten your job, you had worked hectic hours and as the newbie you hadn't been in a position to ask for whatever schedule suited you best. And after a long day at work, going out was not something you wanted when you were home.

"You're loads of fun love," Alex whispers back, taking your hand in his, rubbing circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, "I always have a hell of a time when I'm with you. That's what matters. Not snorting a few rails of coke though that can be fun too."

"I've only ever done shrooms and that was in Amsterdam. In the tulip fields."

"Rockstar love. I've got you beat."

You roll your eyes, "what happened to not wanting to sound like a bloody twat?"

Alex laughs, sending heat down your spine. It makes you glad for the obscurity the dark lends, making you a mere outline when you feel like a burning star.

It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep once you lapse into comfortable silence.

Alex is gone by the time you wake up. A glass of water on your bedside table thoughtfully left by him.

#Alex Turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine #alex turner x reader #Shadowplay

[jcmorrigan]

Just popping by and asking because I'm curious about your self ship with Giovanni. How did you both meet? :3

Ooh, I love this story! Though I had it only bare-bones before...this ask inspired me to sit on it and think through more of the details! So now I have a little more of that.

First of all, it doesn’t exactly follow the storyline of this song, but I just discovered it last night and I was STRUCK by how fitting it was for this whole ship, so give it a listen while reading this. Also, this got LONGER THAN I EXPECTED I’M SO SORRY

So. Here’s me: Rachel Scribere. Absolute mundie. Wants to be Inscribed, but that’s just not my life. Also wants to move up in the publishing industry, since she loves writing (mostly fanfiction, but let’s not tell the world that). And good news! A suburb outside Sweet Jazz City is hiring for a small local paper! Better than nothing, right? So I move from my small town into the heart of the city, scraping up for a cheap apartment so I can get started at work.

And it’s Hell.

My boss? Racist, homophobic, Lexist, and thinks I’m annoying. This job is slowly killing me, but I think it’s my only shot. If I lose it, I lose the apartment, I have to move back in with my parents, I have to let everyone down. Not to mention I haven’t made any friends yet in this city...surely my co-workers can’t be as bad as I think, right? They’ll be my pals eventually, right?

In the throes of depression, feeling absolutely no worth, I’m left to watch the office one day while the others are out. At a “business lunch” without me. Because I’m not in their inner circle yet, and probably will never be. I’m just trying to do some menial task they haven’t trained me how to do properly, nearly crying because it’s just not working and I know they’re gonna come back and be mad with how little I got done.

When the wall blows open.

“THERE’S NOWHERE LEFT TO RUN, [SUBURB] HERITAGE MUSEUM! FOR YOU HAVE BECOME THE NEXT TARGET OF THE BANZAI BLASTERS, AND THEIR PEERLESS LEADER, GIOVANNI POTAGE!”

When the dust clears, we’re trying to work out what, exactly, just happened.

He tried to rob a heritage museum in this suburb...and showed up at the wrong fucking building.

So he’s just all “Oh. So that’s why I’m the only one who showed up. Caaaan we just forget this ever happened? OKAYTHANKSBYE” and peaces out.

Well, I’m just about done, because our office got blown up and I still haven’t done my job and this is gonna be on my head and I just kinda fall on the floor and start crying. (Look, I know this isn’t the most headstrong start, but it’s my fantasy and I wanna be rescued from despair!)

When Giovanni WALKS RIGHT BACK IN to ASK ME FOR DIRECTIONS TO THE ACTUAL MUSEUM -

And witnesses me having a breakdown. “Hey...you, uh...you okay there?”

Well, now I’m mad at him for fucking up my life, because I am SO fired, so I get up and start sobbing and screaming at him how this is gonna be seen as my fault, and how this was already so horrible and it’s just so much worse now, but I launch into how little I was valued and Giovanni interrupts to express disbelief that my bosses didn’t take the time to help me catch up and feel welcome. After all, aren’t bosses supposed to treat their minions with love and respect?

Well, that’s when said bosses come back to the office. And they let me HAVE it.

Giovanni is miffed for two reasons. One, that they’re ragging on their precious minion (me) when that’s not something anyone should ever do, not ever! Two, that by going all “SCRIBERE. WHAT...DID...YOU...DO?”, they are totally stripping him of the cred of having made that bombastic entrance. He’s supposed to be the villain here, okay? Know his name! Fear it!

A great big argument ensues, with Giovanni defending this poor “newspaper minion” he just met and me not knowing what to say and my bosses trying to chase this crazy supervillain wannabe out of their office. And as Giovanni starts rattling off how much I deserve better and I’d be better off just quitting and being a villain...I get the impulsive idea. Hey, why not? At least I might feel alive.

So I stand up and make the decision for myself. I’m quitting. Effective now. And becoming an actual villain because I’m tired of adulting. SEE YA!

And I walk out.

Only to realize, a couple blocks away, that I have just thrown out my only financial lifeline.

Cue breakdown #2.

Now, Giovanni, he hasn’t gone love-at-first-sight for me or anything. But he does know a sad minion when he sees one, and he sort of has it in his head this is kiiiiiinda his fault, so he tails me to make sure I’m okay (which I’m not). And, I mean, a professional villain isn’t who I expected to be venting to, but he’s all I’ve got, so when he says he’ll listen, I just let it all out.

Giovanni has a great idea: I could join the Banzai Blasters with him! To which I utterly refuse. I mean, everyone knows it’s a pyramid scheme at this point, right? No one would join without being fully aware of that. (Gio: ”Heheh...yeah...I mean, I definitely knew that when I signed on, but that just means they’re legit bad guys...”)

But then he gets a BETTER idea! What if I’m an independent contractor villain? I keep the spoils of my own heists! He even thinks he remembers the name of some appraiser in the Blaster handbook that could help me get a foothold in the black market! I just need to steal some stuff to get startup capital, and hey, no one said I couldn’t tag along with the Blaster squad and take some of the spoils, like the awesome cursed swords we’re gonna find at the museum! (Me: “...What do you think the heritage museum is actually for?”) After all, the Blasters’ success is more based on clout and rank than the actual things they walk away with. No one will notice if one or two nice things goes missing! Not to mention, if I’m not an official Blaster, I get to pick my OWN uniform!

I’m desperate. And you know what? This...sounds like fun. What if I just said “fuck it”? So I agree. (And mentally plan out a potential blue-and-black aesthetic for my villain career.)

I also agree to give Giovanni a ride over there, since he is seriously NOWHERE NEAR THE MUSEUM.

En route, since it’s my car, he gets to hear one of my car mixes (IRL I make killer car mixes that make riding in my car like playing Russian Roulette - you could get rock, you could get emo, you could get trashy pop, you could get video game music, or you could just get a meme). And so he learns about my music taste. He also starts grilling me on my life - what do I do for fun? Well, I...write. They’re not really publishable stories, but...

Giovanni: “It’s fanfiction, isn’t it?” Me: “GOD DAMMIT”

He also asks my name. Which he hates, because he graduated with seven Rachels, and I can’t blame him, because I graduated with four others.

We finally get to the museum and the rest of the squad has been waiting for like an hour. They know he got lost but aren’t about to bring it up. Giovanni announces that he’s bringing a friend today and I get to help out.

Now, it’s worth noting at this point that I noticed he was QUITE A HANDSOME FELLA from the moment he walked into the room through the hole he blew in the wall, and his quirks are exactly My Type. So I’m already starting to crush on him. But I am well aware that should NOT be ANY sort of priority right now. As for me? He just sees me as a new villain buddy! (He develops feelings for me later, at which point he’s horrified because “I WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAVE A FAVORITE MINION!”.)

The other Blasters are just like “Okay, cool” because it’s really not strange at this point for Giovanni to pick up a stray (”How do you think we got Flamethrower?”). Ben is excited because now he’s not the only one who doesn’t have a cool minion name, but now Giovanni wants to give me one to spite Ben. “Hmm...let’s see...you’re a writer, so...Storyteller? Chronicler? No...oh, wait! You also like all that weird music! What about COMPOSER? See, it’s a double meaning, because it’s a music thing, but also, you COMPOSE stories...you...you get it? It’s wordplay.”

Composer. I like it. In return, even though Giovanni’s technically not my boss, I agree to call him Boss. (”And really, I may not be your boss legally, but I want you to think of me as a boss in your heart.”)

And we have FUN clearing out the museum. It’s a Sunday, so it’s closed and no one’s actually there, so we just have the run of the place. I get to take back a couple artifacts that Sweet Jazz history buffs on the black market will love.

At the end of the day, Giovanni is all excited for this new partnership, and he’s talking up how he’s going to meet up with me tomorrow to get my stuff appraised - can he have my number? Just to keep in touch? - and I have to discreetly drop him back off at the newspaper office so he can collect his Vespa and drive home. (Look. I know he does not, in canon, drive a Vespa. But he gives me the exact energy of someone who drives a Vespa, so in this ‘verse, he has one. Just rollin’ down the road like he’s on a motorcycle when it’s a fuckin’ scooter that just goes very fast)

Before I drop him off, though, he asks me if they’re gonna kick me out of my place due to me not having a paycheck that day. See, he doesn’t exactly understand how rent works. I assure him I have a due date. He tells me that I can totally crash at his and his mom’s place if I want; he’ll bug his mom into making up the guest room. Apparently she’ll be happy that he’s made more actual friends.

I joke that she would probably be fazed that he brought a girl home. He says that’s never been a concern. “Oh. Not into girls?” “No, I am. And guys. And a couple who weren’t either. The thing is, if my mom was gonna ban everyone I COULD end up being attracted to, she’d have to ban...EVERYONE. And then I wouldn’t be allowed to have ANY friends over.”

I drop him off, go back home...and hit breakdown #3.

What was I fucking thinking? I can’t be a supervillain. Especially not an independent contractor. I’m on the wrong side of the law for a living. This isn’t going to turn a profit...and that’s not even taking into account the trouble I’ll get in with the heat. I’m having anxiety, shakes, nausea, the whole works. Starting to think this isn’t worth it. Maybe starting to feel a little suicidal.

Crawl into bed. Barely sleep. Drag myself out of bed the next day to rendez-vous with Giovanni.

Just seeing him makes me feel...slightly better. He and I head off to a hidden locale to briefly confer with Ramsey Murdoch over my finds. (”Just don’t look him directly in the gross rat face.”)

Ramsey informs me I actually have some valuable stuff on my hands, recommends some buyers, makes an offhand joke about us being a “cute couple” that goes right over Giovanni’s head.

This doesn’t do much to reassure me. I still feel empty. Hollow. Afraid. But Giovanni, he SENSES this on the drive home. He can also tell I put in one of my most upbeat dance mixes to cover the sadness. So he pesters me until I tell him how I really feel...

And he refuses to leave me alone all day because a good boss doesn’t leave a minion who’s feeling that down on herself.

We end up back at his place. Start out by watching movies. I have to put up with him and his mom yelling at each other, but Ms. P. switches on a dime around me - “So glad you’re here, Sweetie. Giovanni could use more good friends like you. Good influences who will tell him NOT TO PUT HIS FEET ON THE LIVING ROOM TABLE GOD DAMMIT HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO GO OVER THIS WITH YOU GIOVANNI anyway, Rachel, can I get you anything? A drink? Some popcorn? Since MY RUDE SON DIDN’T ASK WHAT HIS GUEST WANTED WHEN SHE CAME OVER but you name it and I’ll get it for you.”

I’m still depressed. I cuddle up in a blanket. It’s hand-knitted. I mention that it’s super comfy. Giovanni takes it as a compliment, revealing that he made it himself. This leads to him parading a bunch of things he’s knitted in front of me - scarves, hats, etc. And I love every one of them. Oh, no, I am falling for this man and am also still depressed.

We end the day by plotting out my new villain attire. He’s good at sketching out patterns for clothes, so I give him an aesthetic to go for - blue, corset lacing, asymmetrical skirt, off-the-shoulder, is this too Disney villain?, you know what I don’t care, hey, that looks great! (Eventually he actually helps me put that monstrosity together)

He sticks around. I gradually become more confident in my element, making sales, stealing more things, getting comfortable with THE VILLAIN LIFE, actually turning up a profit because Ramsey knows where the market is and is glad to show me, and hanging out with the Blasters on a regular basis in an abandoned library we’ve taken over as our lair (Giovanni says the word “Lair-brary” once and immediately regrets it and asks us all to forget he ever combined those syllables).

And I’m happy. Finally.

Then one day, in the library lair that is not a Lair-brary, there’s some shenanigan and a bookshelf almost falls on me and crushes me and Giovanni tackles me out of the way because THAT’S WHAT ANY DECENT VILLAIN BOSS WOULD DO FOR HIS PRECIOUS MINIONS and oh. Oh my God. If I didn’t have a crush on this man before, I LOVE him now. Oh, no. Oh, no... ;-)

That’s pretty much the origin story. I’m still kind of nursing the idea of doing an AU version of this in TBTC, and I would probably still wanna use “busts into WRONG PLACE, sees Rachel being mistreated, takes her to rob a place to feel better,” and I hope it’s not tacky to copy the same device. But yeah, I hope that wasn’t the 15 minutes of your life you’ll never get back

#selfship #i'm at soup!

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Black Dahlia (Chapter 4)

And we’re back! I’m gonna be honest, I love that for once in my life, I can actually do regular updates. It feels freakin awesome :D Enjoy Chapter 4!

They left the security building and went into the park area, passing several rides as they went. Heather found herself stuck between Spaceman and Catman, chatting gaily with them, while Starchild accompanied Daphne. Oh, and Fred and Velma, but mostly Daphne.

“So how’s Ohio?” Spaceman asked. “Last we heard, you’ve been living there.”

“Pretty nice,” Heather shrugged. “Peaceful. Not as cool as Detroit, though.”

“Hey, no place is as cool as Detroit,” Catman declared.

Heather laughed and nodded in agreement. “Got that right.”

Catman glanced behind them and pointed his thumb at Fred. “So, you and the kid related?”

“Sort of… I’m his godmother, and his honorary aunt. I’m really good friends with his mom.”

Spaceman nodded in enlightenment. “Ah, okay. It’s, uh, good you found people to stay with.”

Heather could tell an awkward silence would fall over the three of them, so she scrambled for something to say. “Yeah. And guess what? Judy—Fred’s mom—has pretty good music tastes.”

Catman and Spaceman perked up. “She like rock and roll?” Catman asked.

Heather nodded, remembering the times she and Judy would play rock music and dance around Judy’s living room. “Oh yeah, she loves it. Fred, though...” She glanced over her shoulder and leaned in close. “His favorite band is the Ascot Five.”

Spaceman winced. “Oooo, really?”

“Wait, isn’t the Ascot Five that lame do-wop group from the sixties?” Catman questioned.

Heather gestured her hand at him and nodded. “That’s exactly what I said!” 

They went to a couple of the places the Crimson Witch had been seen at. And no matter the place, there was destruction everywhere; tables and chairs toppled over, stands and displays torn apart, and scorch marks everywhere.

“Boy,” Daphne remarked as they looked around one particularly-ruined location. “This place really got worked.”

“She’s never been in the same place twice,” Starchild said. “You were right, Frank, she is looking for something.”

Fred glared at him. “It’s Fred,”

“The question is,” Velma mused aloud, “what is this rock the witch is looking for?”

Heather glanced over at Starchild, Spaceman, and Catman, who were doing a fantastic job of not replying in a way that didn’t make them suspicious. She knew they knew what she was looking for, and so did she. The Crimson Witch, as much as she liked to think herself unpredictable, was always predictable around Halloween.

Stomping boots made them all look up to see Demon striding over, looking grouchy as usual.

Starchild glanced at him, then went back to looking around. “Thought you were going to feed the beast, Demon.”

“The beast’s been fed,” Demon replied shortly. He turned and glared at Fred, Velma, and Daphne. “No thanks to that dog and that hippie.”

After sufficiently looking around, they moved on through the park.

“I have to say,” Daphne said, turning her head around, “this is some amusement park,”

“Thanks,” Starchild smiled proudly. “We each took a section and designed it ourselves.”

Demon took that as a cue and pointed up at a ride. It had a large bust of his head spitting out fire. “There’s my Brimstone Barbecue, the hottest ride in the park,”

Heather saw a car with people inside speeding towards the fire, but at the last second the fire extinguished, allowing the car to go through before reigniting. She thought she heard screaming that sounded like Shaggy and Scooby, but shrugged it off as they continued on.

Spaceman nudged Heather and pointed at a sleeker-looking ride with designs like crackling electricity. “And my Electric Alley,” he said proudly.

Heather raised an eyebrow. “Shocking,” she cracked, and laughed. Three of the four guys shook their heads at her, while Demon joined Daphne and Velma in rolling their eyes, and Fred facepalmed.

As they continued on, they passed a ride that looked like a wacked-out carousel that was suspended in the air and, instead of having horses, had leaping cats.

“Don’t forget my Whirling Wildcats!” Catman proclaimed.

Finally, they reached an intersection in the park, in the center of which was the Ferris Wheel. Starchild swept his hand grandly toward it. “And my Dynasty Star Ferris Wheel! Whoo!”

As they passed it, Heather went over to Starchild and nudged him, smirking. “I guess the best hiding places really are in plain sight.”

Starchild blinked at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said innocently, even as a small smile crept onto his face.

Heather smirked wider and elaborated. “If that’s just a Ferris Wheel, I’m Queen Mary.”

“Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He winked at her.

Velma pointed at another ride. This one was modeled after a mountain with tracks going in and out. It looked to be shut down, with “CAUTION” tape surrounding the entrance. “What’s that ride?”

Demon answered proudly. “That’s our most wicked ride of all: The Destroyer!”

Heather, who had been admiring the ride, frowned at the name and glared at Starchild. Seriously? she thought. Starchild shrugged sheepishly.

“But it’s closed to the public,” Catman said, gesturing to the “CAUTION” tape.

“The Crimson Witch scared a couple of repairmen on it earlier tonight,” Spaceman added.

“Looks pretty terrifying,” Daphne mused, looking apprehensively at the ride.

Starchild gave her a flirtatious look. “Not if you were with me, darlin’,” he said smoothly, winking at her. Daphne turned pink.

Fred, who had seen, glared annoyedly at Starchild as he and the band walked towards the main stage. “Oh, brother,” he groused.

Velma glanced at him sympathetically. “Oh, Fred,”

Fred sighed. “I’m sorry, Velma, but I can’t compete with Starchild!”

Heather patted her nephew’s shoulder. “You don’t need to, sweetie,” she reassured. “Starchild may be a flirt, but he’s pretty harmless.”

“Just remember,” Velma added, “underneath all that makeup, he’s just a regular guy who puts his pants on like everyone else.”

Heather grimaced; that was a bad choice of words. “Well…”

At that moment, Starchild spoke for her. “KISS Costume Change, activate!”

Heather frowned. That was not what she meant.

Nevertheless, KISS leapt onstage and began to glow different colors: Starchild purple, Demon red, Spaceman blue, and Catman green. There was about a minute where they waved their bodies around like lunatics, and Heather thought she heard “Love Gun” playing from somewhere. Then the colors faded, and KISS was wearing different costumes, specifically their Destroyer-era ones.

Heather raised an eyebrow. Well, that was random. Cool, but random.

Daphne just stared in amazement, while Fred now looked very annoyed. “Oh, come on!” he groaned.

“Relax, Fred,” Velma said to him as a young woman walked onstage. “I think this was all pre-planned,”

The young woman, overhearing them, spoke up. “You’re right. It was a rehearsal for tonight’s show.” She gave the band a thumbs-up. “Good test run, fellas!”

Demon said something quietly to Starchild, who murmured back and turned to the four. “Hey guys, we’re gonna take a break.” He looked to Heather. “Wanna join us?”

Heather glanced over at Fred, who was looking interestedly at the young woman. “And let my nephew have a chance at love without me teasing him? No thank you.”

Starchild looked like he wanted to laugh, but shrugged anyway. “Suit yourself,”

As the band walked offstage, the young woman bounded down the steps and held out her hand to Velma. “Hi, I’m Shandi Strutter, KISS’s head techie.”

Heather looked down at her short skirt and sandals. That is definitely not what a head techie should be wearing.

Velma shook her hand. “Hi, I’m Velma, and this is Fred, Daphne, and Heather.”

Shandi waved at them, though it looked more like a salute. “Nice to meet you!”

“So you’re the one responsible for all the band’s stage effects, huh?” Velma asked.

“Most of them, yeah,” Shandi nodded. “The guys really like to put on a show.”

Heather couldn’t help but grin at how she said “most of them.” Because the rest, they all do themselves.

“You don’t have to tell me!” Daphne exclaimed excitedly.

Fred crossed his arms. “Daphne’s a fan,” he said in annoyance. Though it sounded rather jealous to Heather.

Daphne looked insulted. “Um, KISS doesn’t have fans, Freddy. They’re called the KISS Army!”

Heather nudged Fred, smiling. “Yeah, Freddy, get your facts right,”

Fred rolled his eyes. “I prefer the Ascot Five myself,” he said to Shandi.

“Do they have an army?” she asked interestedly.

Fred looked way too proud of what he said next. “It’s more of an all-volunteer international organization of enthusiastic youths.”

Now Heather rolled her eyes, coincidentally the same way Fred did.

Shandi still seemed interested. That, or she was pretending to be. “Cool,”

“As in lame!” Daphne said. “The KISS Army’s better.”

“You’re darn right it is!” Heather agreed, grinning at Daphne and high-fiving her.

Fred sighed and said to Shandi, “My aunt’s a fan, too,”

Shandi laughed. “I can see that.”

“Well,” Velma said to Shandi, “it was nice meeting you, but we’d better get back to looking around. C’mon, guys,”

They left the stage area, waving goodbye to Shandi, and went in the other direction than the one they came from. The four were about to begin searching again when they heard screaming and the screeching of metal against metal.

“What’s all that noise?” Velma asked aloud.

Heather cocked her head and listened to the screams. Then her eyes widened. “That’s Shaggy and Scooby! Come on!”

She took off running towards the screams, with the kids running behind her.

“How can she run so fast?” Daphne asked Fred. He shrugged.

The screaming and metal scraping was coming from a ride that was sort of like a merry-go-round fused with the teacups from Disney World, except instead of teacups they were spinning drums. Heather got there first, and so saw just a glimpse of purple, red, blue, and green forms flying out of sight.

That was before a horrible smell invaded her nose, that made her let out a noise of disgust. Then fear rose in her. She knew that smell.

Heather looked to Shaggy and Scooby, who were stumbling around and looked incredibly dizzy. But they didn’t seem hurt; Heather sent a silent thank-you to wherever the guys had flown off to.

Fred, Daphne, and Velma caught up with her. “We heard the commotion!” Fred said.

“Are you guys okay?” Daphne asked worriedly.

“Hey man, heh heh…” Shaggy said woozily. “… did anyone catch the license plate number on that witch?”

Then he and Scooby fell to the ground and passed out.

#black dahlia #chapter four #black dahlia series #shameless hometown plug lol #tbh kiss world sounds like a fucking awesome theme park #lol is it weird how much I love the running gag of starchild calling fred 'frank'? #oh well #in hindsight naming a ride after a giant evil planet destroyer may have been rather insensitive #fun fact: I had literally no idea how to write the costume change sequence XD #even though it's like one of the funniest scene imo #we finally meet shandi! #i'm sorry but her choice of clothing has always been a little nitpick of mine #lol daphne and heather are right; the kiss army's way better #cliffhanger! #even though we already know they'll be ok lol #kiss au writing #scooby doo and kiss: rock n roll mystery #my writing #stay tuned for chapter five!