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unculturedswine-101 · 2 years
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Something happens and I’m head over heels (Steve Harrington x Wheeler! Reader) part 1
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A/N: Takes place during S2 and Steve and Nancy never dated!
I opened my eyes to the sound of my radio alarm blaring “Twist of fate” by Olivia Newton-John blared through the speakers. I sighed and shifted in my bed, not wanting to get up whatsoever. I get up anyways, and get ready, putting on my outfit, undoing my curlers and hopping into my friend Tina’s car to school. “Hey Tina!” I smile taking my bag off my back and setting myself down in the passenger seat. “Hiya Y/n, ready for our last year of Hawkins High?” She laughed, I rolled my eyes “of fucking course!” I joked, it wasn’t a long drive so we were at the school within minutes. We pulled up to the school, bags in hand as we jogged up to Carol who was leaning up against her own car. “Hey” I smiled at Carol “Hey” she replied, “How much time do we have until the bell rings anyways?” Tina asked. Just as I was about to reply a blue Camaro pulls up to the Student Parking lot blaring “Rock you Like a Hurricane” as a Jean clad student steps out, he’s adorned with a cigarette in hand and a blonde mullet to boot. A much younger redhead girl gets out on the other side and skates away on her skateboard. However both Carol and Tina were distracted by something, or rather someone else, to notice her. “Who is that?” She questioned smiling at the attractive man as he walks away from his vehicle, “I don’t know….but would you check out that ass? Just look at it go” I rolled my eyes at the two girls thirsting over the boy and the bell rang making us rush inside the school.
I double checked my schedule to see what I had first: Biology I sighed and found my way to the class sitting at an empty seat. The bell rang just as fast as I smiled to myself noticing that there was nobody beside me: therefore no lab partner. “Alrighty everyone, welcome to Biology, I’ll be your teacher for the semester Mr Goros-“ just as he was finishing his sentence a student came rushing through the door: Steve. “I see you’ve decided to join us Mr. Harrington” he said sarcastically, Steve gave a small smile “Let’s see…there’s a seat beside y/n at the back there” I rolled my eyes, as he came striding over to the seat next to me. As Mr. Goros began going through expectations for the class, Steve turned over to me “I’m Steve by the way” he smirked “I know” I quipped back, making his eyes widen. “Okay so you know who I am, but I don’t know you, what’s your name? I’ve seen you hanging around with Tina” I turned my head back and I was met with his deep brown eyes gazing into mine “Y/n” I smiled, “y/n” he repeated, making warmth rise up in my cheeks. “Do you have something you would like to share with the class Mr.Harrington?” Steve quickly whipped his head to Mr Goros “Uh no sir” he said nervously, “good, I didn’t think so. Now for your first project I want you to research a bodily system, I’ve assigned one according to your table partners so I suggest you get to know them a little better. I looked at the sheet on the desk to see which one we had; skeletal system, that should be easy. Suddenly the bell rang making us all jump up from our seats “I want an outline of the research by tomorrow!” Mr Goros said over the noise. “Wait, y/n, do you want my phone number or something? For..you know the project” I quickly dig a pen out of my bag and grabbed Steve’s arm as I wrote my number down and released it, turning away and letting my curls bounce as walked out of the room “I-I guess I’ll call you then!” Steve yelled but I couldn’t hear him. “Jesus, what’s wrong with you Harrington” he sighed to himself.
Steve’s POV:
The first day is always rough, I knew that, but why did Billy guy have to make it such a shitshow. At least I met that girl Y/n this morning, she’s pretty cute. I glanced at my arm gazing over the digits she had written this morning. I hear a familiar voice and perk my head up I see Y/nlaughing and a smile began tugging at the corners of my mouth at the sound, it changed quickly however, when I saw who was making her laugh: Billy. I scoffed, “of course Billy gets to her first” I rolled my eyes and quickly got in my car.
Your POV:
“Yeah, I actually moved here with my sister Maxine too, you might have seen her” he says looking quickly at my cleavage then back at me. “Anyways, here’s my number sweetheart, feel free to call anytime” he winked walking away. I rolled my eyes and made my way back to Tina’s car, shaking my head. I climb into the passenger seat dropping my bag to my feet. “So?!!” Tina exclaims “what happened?“ I shrug as she turns the car on. “Nothing! He introduced himself and gave me his number! That’s it!” I told her, as she began pulling out of the lot. As before we arrived to my house pretty quick. “Okay, well make sure to invite this “Billy” to the Halloween party! It’s gonna be bitchin’!” I opened the door of the car and stepped out, “Okay Tina” I said sarcastically as I jogged up to my house.
——————————Time Skip—————————
I flop onto my bed, biology textbook and notebook alongside each other as I begin my research. From what I’ve heard about Steve, he’s a a bit of a slacker when it comes to schoolwork so I should at least get the outline started. I begin by flipping to the systems section when my phone rings I get up and pick up the receiver
“Hello?”
“Hey y/n, it’s Steve”
“Hey, I was just about the get the project started”
“About that, do you want me to come over so we can work on it?”
“Steve! It’s 9 a clock!”
“So?”
“So, you can’t come over, my parents would never let you in!”
“Don’t worry, I’m sneaky, like a ninja”
I sigh into the phone “okay, be really quiet” I giggled
“See you soon y/n”
“Wait but you don’t know my addr-“
And he hung up.
-time skip-
It had only been a couple minutes when I hear scuffling at my window, I run over to see Steve’s stupid smile on the other side. I open it as Steve struggles to get inside tripping over the sill until he finally manages to stand up properly. “What did I tell ya, ninja” Steve jokes as he gestures to himself. I push him a little “you’re an idiot Steve Harrington” I giggle. There’s a moment of silence as we both just stare at each other and Steve’s eyes flick to my lips then back at my eyes. I decide to be the one to break the tension, “So how did you get my address anyway?” I asked, “oh, uh Mike told me” he admitted “that little shit” I said under my breath, plopping myself on the bed. “Well, let’s get started” I said patting the bed for Steve to sit down. The whole time I could feel his eyes on me, staring, admiring I would give anything to see what’s going on in his head. We finally finished the outline and I tucked it safely in my binder for tomorrow. “So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow” I said looking down at the floor, “yeah, I guess so” he smiled. The exchange was filled with tension, neither of us felt that we could break it in any way, so Steve pulled up the window to sneak out again.
I started to have this weird feeling in the pit of stomach when Steve left, like my insides felt lighter than air. I decided to ignore it and started to get ready for bed. I decided to put on "Rio" by Duran Duran on my record player as I stripped myself of my clothes to get into my pajamas. Instead of enjoying Simon Le Bon's vocals on the record however, I found myself thinking of Steve, how good his hair looked, how he laughed and smiled. I shook my head in an attempt to rid myself of the thoughts. "I cannot be falling for Steve Harrington, am I?".
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sketchy-rosewitch · 10 months
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Fall Together:Butchie Yost x afab!gn!reader
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Warnings: fingering, PinV, references to past drug use.
BvH Character Masterlist
A/N: Yall better go watch John from Cincinnati right now >:(
Then watch Ascension cause that’s my next oneshot coming up
The sun heats your skin as you walk along the shoreline watching your friend surf. He’d been out since the early hours of the morning but you’d only shown up an hour ago.
You enjoyed watching him, he looked so relaxed and free.
You kick the cool water and hum lightly. The waves come in just above your ankles and you turn to look, seeing Butchie paddle back up to where you were. He stands and runs his hands through his hair.
“Hey Butchie.”
“Hey, thought you’d be out with Kai and Shaunie.”
You shake your head. “Nah, not today. Thought I’d see if you wanted to do anything.”
You follow him back to his van waiting for an answer, he opens his trunk and places his board inside.
“I don’t think you’d wanna do that.” The blond scoffs and undresses.
“Nah, I definitely do. I wouldn’t have gone to the beach to find you if I didn’t want to.”
Butchie strips his wetsuit off and grabs his shirt and shorts that sit next to his surfboard. You watch as he makes a face.
“Kai and Shaun are way more fun than me.”
You shake your head. “Who cares? I wanna hang out with you! We should go roller skating!” You jump up and down. Butchie sighs, his blue eyes looking into yours. “It’ll be fun come on.”
“I ain’t exactly good.”
You roll your eyes and climb into his van, he gets in on the driver’s side and starts the car, driving towards the rink. The smile never seems to leave your face, feeling absolutely giddy. Truly you’d do any for this to be a date, but you could take what you could get and hanging out with Butchie was what you could get.
Butchie parks you the two of you exit the car and head into the building, he grabs your hand and takes the lead dragging you inside, he takes you to the skate counter, telling the worker his shoe size then raising a brow at you.
You look at him, then the clearly sick of life teen and stutter out an answer. Butchie pays, even though you insist since it was your idea but he squints at you.
“Nah, cause now John keeps giving me money. He’s like some sort of walking bank. I got it.”
You nod your head and the both of you walk to a bench to put on your skates.
“You ever roller skated before?” You ask, sliding on each of your skates before tying them.
“Nah, just skateboarding when I was younger. I’m er- only doin’ this cause you suggested it. Don’t really like tryin’ new things.” The surfer boy explains, your heart thumps loudly you swear if the loud pop music wasn’t playing Butchie Yost would’ve heard it.
“That means a lot. Now come on! I’m really good at this!”
You hold out your hand and he takes it, carefully standing up, he holds one hand out and you glide across the 80’s neon patterned carpet and onto the rink.
Plenty of people were here on this Saturday afternoon, chatting and showing off their skills (or lack there of).
Butchie’s hands are clammy but you don’t mind knowing he’s probably nervous about slipping on his ass.
You smile up at him and he does his fake pursed lip smile causing you to stick your tongue out at him.
Taking things slow you let go of Butchie’s right hand and hold onto his left, keeping him closest to the wall. His grip seems to tighten and and loosen, constantly squeezing, as you make two laps around the rink. He never grabs onto the wall though.
“I appreciate you wanting to come out with me. We never really get to hang out. Always having Shaunie, Kai, or even John with us. It’s nice. Just the two of us.” Your confession is just loud enough for the blond man to hear and he nods his head in agreement.
You notice his body slowly loosening up as he becomes more confident. Butchie never seems to let go of your hand though, the position of his grip seems to change to, fingers now intertwined, you try not to think too much about it and instead take him towards the middle of the rink.
“Hey now. Come on. It’s like you want me to fall on my ass.” Butchie complains but never tries to pull back, you smile at him.
“It’s okay, we can fall together.”
You let go of his hand and wrap your arm around his waist moving fast, his body tenses up but he tries so hard to relax. Your shoulders move to the poppy music and force him to sway a bit too. Underneath the disco and flashy colorful lights you notice he smiles and is trying to hide it.
“See you’re having fun. Look at you!”
“Oh shut up.”
The two of you skate for a few more hours before deciding to stop. He holds your hand in the parking lot but you don’t think too much about it. He’s always done this with his friends (though he’d never admit he has any).
“We should get some ice cream!” You suggest. He shrugs.
“Sounds good to me.”
-
The waves push in and out along the shore at the two of you lick your ice cream cones and watch the sun set.
“I know it was… a shitty time for both of us but I’m really happy I met you a couple of years back.” You admit. Through your peripheral vision you see Butchie nod.
“Me too. You’ve changed me a lot. More than my parents or son could do. Then John came around and we stopped talkin’ so much. Least, alone that is. I missed you, a lot but he also changed me even more though and even though I’m still in that dingy ass motel room I feel like I’m out of that stupid shit Linc got me into all those fuckin’ years ago.” The blond explains, you look at him.
“You changed me too. I got an apartment, a job, I can actually talk to whoever I want to! I’m not reliant on anyone either.” You look at him and laugh. “You got something.”
Taking a napkin you wipe Butchie’s chin. “There we go.”
He finishes his ice cream and looks away. “Anyways I appreciate today. I-fuck. Whatever.” Butchie’s hand tenses, it lightly taps on his knee. You finish your cone and pocket the napkins.
“What do you mean whatever? You can say anything you want to me ya know.”
You turn your whole body towards Butchie and relax, he looks at you through the side of his eye and let’s out a sigh, turning towards you he crosses his arms and tenses up.
“I- fuck… THIS IS SO HARD! Ugh I- fuck man, I love you.” The surfer runs his hand through his long hair. You smile, heart squeezing before it bursts into millions of pieces, then forming again in a magnetic tension.
“I love you too.”
Butchie let’s go, his shoulders falling from his ears and hands return to his lap. “You serious? Can’t fuckin’ joke with me right now you better be fuckin’ serious.” Butchie grumbles. You take his hand, it’s clammy, he wipes his nose with his other arm and sniffles. You move your other hand up to his face and lean in, he leans in too and your lips meet. Your heart almost stops as you deepen the kiss. His other hand covers yours that sits on his face.
You two break apart and you smile.
“I’m not gonna joke with you about something like this, I’m serious 100 percent.”
“Good, good.” He seems to like holding your hands and doesn’t let go. “Do-you-uh. Do you wanna head back to my place?”
“Yes!”
-
Butchie opens the motel room door and you watch into a messy room. He scratches the back of his head and shuts the door lightly behind him.
“My bad, guess I got too excited. Forgot my place is always a mess.” Butchie says picking up a few items and shoving them in a corner. You shrug your shoulders.
“My place isn’t any better Butch.”
“That’s a lie.” You two look at each other.
“Half of one.” You jump onto his bed and kick of your shoes. “My apartment is messy, went into a slump for a bit and thought I’d ignore it and I did. Til you just reminded me of Yosty.”
You roll in his unmade bed. He shakes his head at you, a smile creeps up on his face and he takes off his shoes too and slips into more comfortable clothes. He goes into his dresser and tosses you a shirt.
“Cleanest thing I own right now. Again, my bad.”
You smile and jokingly strip in front of Butchie. He scoffs and walks over to kiss you. Your hands wrap around his neck and you play with his hair.
Butchie leans into you causing you to go off balance and fall onto his bed. A small groan leaves your chest but you don’t stop kissing him.
He kisses over your jaw and down your neck, feeling up and down your body. “You’re so cute. Fuck I don’t deserve you.” His grip hardens then softens seconds later. Butchie’s fingers rub lightly over the area in a small apology.
“Then I don’t deserve you Butchie.” Your fingers run through his hair.
Butchie shakes his head, his hands leave your body so he can undress and you sit there watching him. His hands meet your underwear and slip them off too.
Butchie kisses you roughly and opens his mouth, you open yours and play with his tongue, feeling as his hand moves down to your cunt. Two fingers slip in and curl into your g-spot making you let out a stifled moan.
Butchie’s other hand caresses your face rubbing some of the drool into your cheek. You let out soft pants as he continues fingering you quickly yet lovingly. He or is all over your face making you smile and scrunch up.
You feel your stomach tightening and let out a loud moan. Your hips begin to move with Butchie’s fingers.
“Please. Butchie I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop.” You whine, he buries his head into your neck and bites gently on your skin, curling his fingers just right.
The knot tightens before snapping all together and you’re vision turns white. A loud squeal comes from your throat as you cum on his fingers. You feel him smile into your neck and pull his fingers out.
They meet your lips and you take them in your mouth gently sucking on them.
He then takes them out and holds your hips, lining himself up with your hole.
Slowly he slides in stretching you out. Your whole body shakes as you let out a whine of pleasure. Your hand takes Butchie’s wrist out of comfort and he smiles gently.
“You feel so good around my cock baby.”
A small slurred moan comes from your mouth as you roll your hips into him.
“Yeah you want me to keep goin’?” He asks, you nod your head and smile dumbly up at him.
Butchie pulls his hips back then thrusts forward cause a gasp to leave both of you. He starts at a slow and sensual pace, you two kiss each other, groans leave his mouth and you already feel his cock pulsating inside you.
“You’re so amazin’ baby. I can’t get enough of you. You’re so cute and fuck- god you’re so tight. Make me feel so good baby.”
His mouth keeps running and running, only being stopped by soft groans and moans coming from his chest or him kissing your neck leaving beautiful marks behind.
Your let out small squeals as he keeps fucking you wide open, you can’t speak but you want to. So badly you want to he’s so handsome and deserves everything and more, your hands move to caress his face when he decides he wants to hover over you and stare at your hazy eyes.
You smile through your moans and rub the bottom of his lip lightly.
His breath hitches as he thrusts faster into you. A knot again forms in your stomach but it’s already about to snap. You don’t have time to give warning as your eyes roll back and legs shake. A loud mewl comes from your throat as you cum, squeezing his cock. Butchie groans and pulls out cumming on your stomach.
The surfer falls on top of you and kisses your neck lightly.
“Fuck.. fuck I love you baby.” Butchie mumbles, he adjusts the two of you so you’re under his sheets. The man spoons you and kisses your face. You hum lightly and close your eyes.
“I love you so much Butchie Yost.”
“I love you too.”
Butchie doesn’t fall asleep right away, instead he traces patterns into your skin and waits for you to fall asleep. Once you do he finally relaxes fully and closes his eyes still moving his fingers around gently until he falls asleep.
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gloriousmessofagirl · 2 years
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Carefree // JJ Maybank Pt I
Summary: A new girl moves to the OBX and before he even knows her, JJ is falling her for...hard; however, she’s a Kook and all Kooks are the same...aren’t they?
Warnings: swearing, underage drinking
Word Count: 3,333 (angel numbers, baby)
The group of Pogues were driving through Figure 8 on their way back to The Chateau for their usual summer escapade: smoking beers, drinking weed, hammocking, fishing on the HMS Pogue, whatever their rowdy little hearts desired. Although their summer break had just started a few days ago, they were determined to make this one the most memorable one yet.
JJ, Kie, and Pope’s attention went to the nearly full U-Haul van parked on the side of the road, watching as the movers carried the mahogany dining table and its accompanying upholstered chairs, meanwhile John B stole a quick glance before refocusing his attention back to the road.
Kie sat back in her seat, all interest in the new family now gone once she laid her brown eyes on the navy-blue jeep – one of the many vehicles (four to be exact) sitting in the driveway of the large house, “And people wonder why our planet’s dying.”
JJ shrugged as he caught Pope’s stare. Ignoring her expected tangent about carbon emissions and microplastics, they watched as a man with salt and pepper hair around his mid-40’s handed his son, named Ryan, a large box labeled “kitchen”. JJ assumed he couldn’t have been more than three years older than them.
At the feeling of being watched, Ryan turned to the dingy brown van. Despite feeling like a circus animal on parade, he bro-nodded at the two teens, who name no effort to hide the fact that they were staring. His friendly gesture was met with hostility as JJ rolled his eyes, turning his back on the hazel eyed boy, “He’ll fit in great with Topper and Rafe.”
The Volkswagen van continued on down the road just as Clarissa excitedly waked down the driveway to retrieve another one of her boxes.
The first time JJ Maybank and Clarissa Davenport saw each other was a couple of weeks later once the moving process had settled giving her a chance to finally explore her new home.
Behind the blond skateboarder, the sound of someone hooting and hollering intensified. He politely moved out of the middle of the road just as the familiar jeep, which was now missing its top, came to a slow halt at the stop sign next to him.
And there she was…
In a blue and white striped sundress, hanging out of the top of the car, hands in the air, long blonde hair blowing every which way. A few strands stuck to her face, but it didn’t seem to bother her. JJ subconsciously licked his lips at the sight of her. Her head was tilted slightly back, eyes closed as she took in everything: the feeling of the sun peaking through the leaves as it touched her sun-kissed skin, the salty smell of the ocean combined with the summer air, the sound of the birds chirping sweetly as they flew from branch to branch. She looked serene, just enjoying the moment. And that’s exactly how she lived – carefree and living for every moment she was blessed with.
As she moved her disheveled hair out of her face, her eyes opened revealing the most gorgeous misty grey-blue shade, reminding JJ of the clouds he’d seen over the ocean right before a storm. She gave him a soft smile as they drove off, “Ow, ow!”
Her voice eventually faded, and the rambunctious teen continued on his merry way unable to get her out of his mind. If you had asked him, JJ would’ve sworn up and down that this all happened in slow-mo. It was common knowledge that he’d hooked up with a few girls here and there but none of them were remotely close to her. But at the end of the day, she was a Kook, full of daddy’s money, always getting what she wants.
Their paths crossed a few days later. He was with John B and Pope on their way to pick up Kiara while she was riding bikes with her new friend Savanna. Her baby blue crop top highlighted her eyes while her cut off jean shorts made her tanned legs look longer, completing her casual look with a plain white bucket hat and Birks.
JJ couldn’t hear the conversation that was going on between the two girls, but he could see her head go backwards. Her loud boisterous laugh was so infectious, it caused the corners of his mouth to curve upwards, forming the tiniest smile. JJ wondered if they could hear her on the other side of Kildare.
She released the handlebars, putting her arms straight out like a bird about to take flight, “C’mon, Nan, keep up!”
In that moment, John B and Pope realized just how smitten their friend was. Normally, JJ was a natural when it came to girls, always knowing exactly what to say to and what to do make them blush and become all giggly, which is why they couldn’t understand what made Clarissa so different. The tall brunette waited 30 more seconds, thinking his best friend would snap himself out of his trance.
He couldn’t contain his laughter any longer, “You got it bad, bro.”
JJ scoffed, trying to play it cool, “Pfft. Nah, man.”
Pope also busted out laughing, “You look like a fucking iPad kid.”
“Oh, fuck you dude.”
Pope tried to contain his laughter so he could ask the question, “Why don’t you just talk to her instead of staring at her like a fucking creep?”
“Pope giving JJ relationship advice…mark that one off your bingo cards,” John B teased.
JJ flipped both of them off before his mind quickly shifted to the reality of his situation, “Doesn’t matter cause she’s a Kook.”
John B’s eyebrows arched as he looked to the occupied passenger seat, “Sarah was a Kook.”
“Sarah’s different.”
JB held up his hands, playfully admitting defeat. Pope copying his actions, “Alright, alright.”
He stole one last glance just in time to see her quickly place her hand on top of her head, preventing her hat from flying away. Clarissa stopped pedaling, her mint-colored bike coming to an eventual stop, allowing the brown-haired girl to catch up. She nodded her head in the direction that the van headed, “Hey, who was that?”
“John B,” Savanna questioned, trying to determine which guy her friend was asking about, “Brown hair?”
“No, blond.”
Savanna was hesitant to answer, “That would be JJ.”
“I was just wondering cause I’ve seen him around a couple of times but like I’ve never actually talked to him or anything.”
“Good,” her friends dislike was evident, “He’s the lowest of the low. Just be careful around him.”
Clarissa couldn’t tell if JJ – it felt weird to finally know his name – was actually a bad guy or if it was just the whole “Kooks versus Pogues” mentality she was still grasping to understand.
She categorized as a Kook, but the truth was she’d spent most of her life as lower-middle class. When she was six years old, her dad lost his job nearly leaving them homeless. Even through that, they always had food on the table and somehow her parents still managed to make Christmas magical with presents from a secondhand store.
Regardless of what people say, everyone is prejudice. Clarissa felt this firsthand when her family transitioned to upper-middle class. Rich bitch. Spoiled brat. Daddy’s money. Trust fund baby. She knew those were just a few of the insults people hurled at her behind her back and every so often when they were brave enough to face, never taking the time to get to know her. And it bothered her when others did this. She hoped her friend was sincerely looking out for her and not the other way around.
The next night he was headed to The Chateau after yet another fight with his dad. It was a quarter past 11 when she stumbled out of the marina’s tiny gas station carrying a bag of candy. It was a stark contrast to the anger he felt at the hands of someone who was supposed to take care of him and love him unconditionally but seeing her and hearing her angelic laugh relieved that anger just a tiny bit.
Ryan trailed behind her carrying a bag of miscellaneous snacks and drinks. The blonde girl halted, turning on her heels to face him, holding out her hand, “My drink, kind sir.”
“I thought you got it?”
“Ha-ha. You’re so funny,” her sarcastic response was short lived. She searched his face, waiting for him to falter and give in but when he didn’t her face changed to look like a lost puppy dog, “You really forgot?”
“The fact that you thought I’d forget, it hurts…right here,” he placed his hand over his heart, “You’d think after 16 years of living with me you’d have a little more faith in your dear old brother.”
She rolled her eyes at his theatrics, “Yeah, yeah. I get it; you’re the best big brother ever and how could I ever doubt you. Blah blah blah. Can I have my drink now?”
Continuing the bit, he rolled his eyes before placing the vibrant pink can in her open palm.
“Oh helllll yea,” she quickly popped open the can with her manicured lavender fingernails, “Ah, delicious.”
It was too dark for her to notice JJ but he chuckled as she literally climbed into her brother’s car. Despite the late hour and the high likelihood of people sleeping, she plugged her phone into the aux cord putting Jack Harlow on full blast. JJ’s attention went back to kicking the small rock once the jeep pulled out of the tiny parking lot.
For the next few days, JJ was constantly conversing with himself, prepping himself for when he finally got the chance to talk to her, not wanting to make a complete fool out of himself. 
He ran his ringed fingers through his messy hair, putting his backwards hat on his head once again, growing more and more frustrated with himself, “Fucking cabrón.”
His other hand was holding on tight to the multiple bags of groceries he was carrying. Why was it so hard to talk to her? He’d talked to plenty of girls before and he’d had no issues and in that moment he decided against using a pickup line. 
His gaze scanned the balcony, needing to do a double take to confirm what he thought he saw. A lot chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head in disbelief, “I fucking knew it.”
Leaning over the wooden railing of the country club was Clarissa. Behind her Ryan was talking to none other than Rafe, Topper, Kelce, and a few other of their goonies. She adjusted her sunglasses that had fallen down the bridge of her nose. Her lips curved upwards when she spotted him on the outskirts of the property. She gave him a small wave, shocked when he gave her the cold shoulder but even more so at how much the gesture hurt her considering they had yet to speak to one another. 
Noah, one of Topper’s friends, joined her alongside the balcony, handing her a vodka cranberry, “You can’t expect anything less from them.”
She thanked him for the kind gesture, attempting to hide her disappointment with a small smile, unsure if she was successful. 
The first time the two teens spoke was that weekend at the Boneyard. The sun was setting, leaving the sky a multitude of fading blues and pinks and oranges. The waves were transitioning with the tide as the moon made its appearance up above. Moments where the Kooks and Pogues inhabited the same space without at least one fight were rare but so far so good as both parties were jam packed together. 
“But why not? He’s hot as fuck...and rich,” Savanna muttered the last part. The brunette grew more and more intoxicated with each sip, “I just don’t get why you won’t go on one date. Just one. Ya know? Have fun and just - just live...a little.
Savanna followed her best friend’s gaze all the way to the blond kleptomaniac sitting on a piece of driftwood, “Earth to Clarissa. Hellllooooooooo. Well if you do end up talking to him, count your money afterwards.” 
Clarissa bit her tongue, “Why do you always have to do that?”
“Do what, tell you the truth? I don’t know, Clarissa, maybe because you’re my friend and I actually care about you.”
The spat between the two wasn’t loud but it definitely garnered the attention of the people closest to them. Beer sloshed out of Savanna’s cup as she let out a loud laugh, “Oh, and you do?”
Clarissa closed her eyes, and breathed threw her nose thinking carefully about what she wanted to say next, “I’m just saying, he could be the nicest person but you won’t take a second to get to know him because you all are so stuck up in this fucking Kook fantasy world.” 
Another loud laugh left her friend’s lips, “Yeah, okay. Go ask Topper how nice JJ Maybank is.” The alcoholic beverage met her lips once more. 
Brick by brick, word by word a wall of tension was built between the two girls just like it did every time they had this conversation. Savanna would be the one to eventually break the silence, “I’m just trying to look out for you. I really think you should give Noah a chance. He’s smart and sweet and respectful. He’s not really into hook ups. He’s tall and athletic. He likes you too. Oh and speaking of, here he comes - Hey, Noah!” 
His hazel eyes lingered on the petite blonde, greeting them once he made his way over to them. Savanna’s words lingered in Clarissa’s mind - he was attractive, there was no denying that. With his picture perfect smile because of his straight white teeth. And his olive skin that had turned into the most beautiful tan. His hair was dark brown bordering black, reminding her of coffee beans. His eyes were brown like honey with specks of green that shined in direct sunlight. He was beautiful but there was an attraction towards the other boy, that had a clear view of the trio, despite being so far away. 
His jaw was tight as he watched the scene unfold. Was she smiling to be polite? He doubted it. He wasn’t drunk enough for this. He chugged the remnants of his cup, holding it up to his friends, “Anyone need another?”
John B and Sarah both raised their empty plastic cups. 
Clarissa’s gaze was constantly going back and forth between Noah and the spot JJ occupied. Peaking over his shoulder, she found the spot now abandoned. Peering through the crowd, she found him making his way towards the alcohol. Now was her chance, “Excuse me.” 
Pope was the first to notice her as she weaseled her way through everyone. He swatted his hands, trying to get the attention of the other Pogues. All eyes were on the unfolding situation.
“Hey,” she said, standing behind him. 
JJ peaked over his shoulder, expecting a touron, “Oh, hey.”
She fiddled with her fingers, waiting a few seconds to see if he said anything else. His attention remained on refilling the cups, “I’m Clarissa.”
“JJ.”
She tilted her head, silently begging him to engage in conversation, “You mind pouring me one?”
He licked his lips, finally facing her. He wasn’t as tall as Noah but he still towered over her small frame. Holding the cups up, he spoke once more “I gotta get back to my friends.” 
“Oh, yeah, of course,” word vomit oozed from her lips due to being embarrassed. 
JJ nodded his head behind her, “I gotta...”
“Shit, yeah, uh - sorry.”
He smirked, finding this entertaining before remembering who she was. She moved over, allowing him to pass by and get a whiff of his cologne. She felt deflated, knowing the probability of her friends watching were high. For a moment, she stood there contemplating what to do next, processing what just happened. She always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt but maybe, just maybe Nan was right. 
A cough broke her out of these thoughts. Behind her, a long line of people were waiting for the beer, which she happened to be blocking, “Fuck...I’m so sorry.”
She moved out of the way, finally meeting her friends’ gaze. Noah’s eyes were filled with concern, debating if he should be the hero and sweep her off her feet. She knew exactly what Nan would say. What’d you expect? I told you so. Got all of your money? 
Meanwhile the Pogues were speechless. John B shook his head in shock, “Dude?!?”
In all actuality, he meant what the fuck was that. 
The blond rolled his eyes, handing his best friend his cup or at least he’d hoped it was his. 
“Yeah, that was kinda harsh,” Kie said, taking a sip of her drink. 
Slightly more intoxicated than the rest of them, Sarah shrugged, “I mean she does hang out with my brother and ex-boyfriend.” 
In true JJ fashion, he dramatically threw his hands in Sarah’s direction, somewhat shocked that she took his side, “It’s the way the world works. Rich girl meets rich boy. They fall in love, get married, have rich snobby babies and thus, the cycle continues.”
He brought his cup to his lips, wishing it was stronger, “I told you when they first moved her; A new Kook princess has been crowned.”
They didn’t say anything to one another for the next two weeks. She no longer smiled at him because that’s what she thought he wanted, while he thought it further proved his point on her being a stuck-up bitch. John B noticed both of them stealing glances when they did pass each other. 
 She walked out of the gas station with her usual Arizona and Airheads, putting her sunglasses back on. There he was, sitting at the edge of the marina. She had two options – number 1: she could continue to ignore him and walk away, continuing to harbor a grudge or number 2: she could talk to him.
She swung her leg over her bike, but stood frozen in place. “Fuck this,” she whispered to nobody in particular. She was fed up of the attitude and judgement. She set her bike against the rotting wood rail before sauntering down the dock towards him.
She sat down a few feet from him, staring straight at the ocean. He was speechless at her audacity. Before he could say anything she spoke first, “It’s a public dock, right?”
He bit his lip before nodding, staring back at the waves, “Yeah, I guess it is.”
They sat there for a minute of tense silence before she spoke once more, “So like are you ever gonna talk to me?”
For the second time, she didn’t let him get a single word out, “Like, I get that I’m new here and there’s this whole “Pogues vs Kooks” which I don’t really fuckin get but I think it’s complete bullshit.”
You don’t know shit about me but yet for the past couple of weeks you’ve acted like a complete dick wad. All because you what…think I’m some rich bitch? What is it that you all say – “Kook Princess?” I’ll have you know that when I was 6 my dad lost his job and we were nearly homeless. And he’s worked his fucking ass off for us .”
His eyes widened, trying not to laugh, “Dick wad? Haven’t heard that one in a while.”
She tried to hold back her smile, “Am I wrong?”
She wasn’t. And he knew that, “No, you’re right. I was definitely a dick and I’m uh, sorry. ”
For the next couple of hours, the two teenagers sat on the rotten wood as their feet dangling over the water talking and laughing about anything and everything, finally taking the time to get to know one another. 
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camaro-and-smokes · 2 years
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Coming out - The Love of My Life PT9
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Rating: Mature Warnings: no warnings Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Max Mayfield, Dustin Henderson, Robin Buckley, Karen Wheeler Tags: angst, cursing Words: 1872
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Summary: When Steve and Billy got a taster of what life could be if there were no restrictions, things start to go south…
:::::::::::::::
“Hey what’s up between Hargrove and Harrington? It’s almost as if they’re getting along.” “Harrington is apparently helping him with math or something.” “But they hate each other! “Well, not any more.” “I don’t know. There’s something else going on between them, I know it.”
“That blue car is on Harrington’s driveway almost daily.” “John, kids have friends, you know.” “Well, I’m almost sure I saw those boys hugging on the doorway the other day.” “John, friends can hug.” “Not boys, Anette.” “Why not? “Well, not in my time they didn’t.” “It’s been a while from that, John. Times change. And why do you spend time on keeping an eye on them in the first place? It's none of your business.”
“Hey Neil, how’s that boy of yours at the Harrington’s almost every night? I’m almost sure I saw those boys hugging the other day.”
Max kicked the skateboard up and walked in. The Camaro had been parked in front of the house, so she knew that her leaving the house without Billy knowing about it had worked. Or at least he wasn't concerned about her absence. Which wouldn't be surprising as Neil wasn't home. He'd be interested in it only when it was about time Neil to come back home. She went directly to the kitchen to get something to eat. Then, she started towards her room with two sandwiches, which she dropped, when she bumped into half dressed Steve in the corridor.
”Oh shit,” was all Steve was able to say when he stared at Max, who was as surprised as he was.
When Billy heard that, he opened his door and saw the two staring at each other confused. ”Fuuuuck.”
"Max," Steve said. "We'll explain everything, OK? Just…let me get something on."
Steve went to Billy's room and closed the door behind him. He leaned to the door and closed his eyes. "You said she would be gone longer."
”Well, so I thought. She usually is. We're so fucked," Billy said sitting on his bed and burying his head into his hands.
Max was stunned, left standing alone in the corridor. All this time she knew something strange had been up with Billy and whoever had come over because she never actually saw anyone come or go through the front door. They had used Billy's window all this time. She knew what was happening behind the closed door, despite them trying to stay as quiet as possible, which was why she tried either to get away for the time being or put her music as loud as she dared to keep from hearing anything. She hadn't even thought that it was a guy who secretly visited Billy. Billy didn't exactly show that kind of tendencies, if there were such really. It was all the the same to her who Billy wanted to be with. Steve being into boys was the bigger surprise. Though she didn't care about that either, not really. Steve had complained about Billy frequently and she was under the impression that they practically hated each other. But it had been a camouflage, for a while at least. This was a secret Billy would've been probably willing to take to his grave.
She stood there for a while collecting her thoughts, then took the sandwiches from the floor and to the kitchen and tossed them into the bin. She had totally lost her appetite.
Steve had dressed and he and Billy came into the kitchen.
"Sit," Billy said, annoyed, to Max and pointed to a chair in the end of the kitchen table.
Steve put his hand on Billy's shoulder and told him to shut it. "Let me handle this, OK?"
To Max's surprise Billy listened without letting out a peep. As Billy sat down into the other end of the table he took a smoke from a pack and lit it.
Steve sat next to him and turned to Max. "I noticed you had sandwiches with you in the corridor. Have you eaten anything? Or do you want something to eat?"
Max shook her head. "I'm not hungry."
"OK, that's, eh, understandable."
"I didn't mean to…”
Billy was terrified of his and Steve's relationship coming out like this and he just couldn't remain quiet. "You better stay quiet about this,” he snarled.
Steve, knowing the complex relationship Billy had with Max, Billy's other issues and their own delicate situation, put his hand on Billy's arm. He tried to make an eye contact with him, but when Billy's glare remained locked at his step-sister, he turned to Billy, put his hands on his cheeks and forced Billy to look at him as gently as he could. "Billy. Calm down. Everything's OK. We'll sort this out, babe."
Max watched, how Steve spoke gently to Billy and made him actually relax under his touch. Steve had a massive effect on Billy. She had never seen Billy behave like that.
After Steve felt Billy's tension easing under his touch, helped by his words, he turned to Max: ”Billy told me that you knew about someone being over sometimes. Right?”
Max nodded.
"You probably thought that it was a girl?"
"I guess."
”We like each other a lot." Steve looked at Billy, and took his hand in his. Billy was reluctant first, but when Steve brushed his hand gently with his thumb, Billy's tension eased. Again. "But you probably understand that we couldn't be open about this. Because people don't understand this."
”Yeah.”
”That's why I've been here only when your parents aren't home. I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I mean, I'm sorry about the whole secretly being over thing."
"It's OK"
"Max, you have to keep this as a secret. You can't tell anyone about this. OK?”
”Yeah, I get it.”
”I mean,” Steve said, glancing at Billy, ”it's not that we want to keep it a secret for forever. We just prefer tell people about it ourselves.”
Max nodded. After a while she spoke: ”You know, if I'm the only one at home with you, you can use the front door. For some decency.”
It made Steve let out a laugh. “Sure.”
”How long have you been together?” Max asked after a while, genuinely interested.
”Almost 6 months,” Steve replied after glancing at Billy, who had finished his smoke and was already opening the pack to get another one to calm his nerves.
”And are you serious?”
”What is this? A cross-examination?” Billy asked, lighting the smoke.
The remark made Max roll her eyes.
"Billy, stop. She's just curious. Yeah, we're serious.”
Max couldn't believe that Steve actually managed to handle Billy's temper just by talking, and it was effortless. She shrugged. ”OK.”
”OK? As in…”
”It's OK that you like each other and want to be with each other. I don't mind if you're over. And I will keep the secret. But you have to bring films for me to watch when you come around. I don't want to hear what you're doing here.”
Steve smiled. ”Done. But. In case you want to go out of the house when I'm over, please let Billy know where you are. It would help him a lot. He can always come pick you up,” Steve said. He looked at Billy. “Right?”
“Yeah, why not,” Billy replied.
Suddenly Billy and Steve were able to see each other more often, both at the Harringtons' for the 'tutoring' and at the Hargroves' when Neil and Susan were gone or at work. Billy was happier than he had been in years. Driving Max around was no longer as big of a chore as it had been, and sometimes he picked up the other kids too if they were coming over. He also shut up about Lucas, and was almost warming up to the kid. He was able see Steve more and be more open with him, even at school. They were able to cuddle in Steve’s bed all evening, or watch TV in the living room, of course sitting far enough that it didn't raise any questions if Steve’s parents were home. But Billy could be in the same space together with Steve. And that was everything to them both.
***
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Steve asked.
“Yeah,” Billy said and took a deep breath.
“Babe, you look lovely. And I love that earring on you.”
“You got it for me, of course I'm wearing it here,” Billy said smiling. “C'mon, let's get this over with.”
Steve took Billy's hand and rang the doorbell.
Mrs. Wheeler opened the door. Seeing Billy made her blush. Steve greeted her and told her that they were coming to see Nancy and the kids. Then he introduced Billy, who greeted her with just a shy “Hello”, without any trace of the charmer he’d been last time he’d met her. When Karen noticed that Steve and Billy were holding hands, her face fell. “In the basement,” was all she managed to say as she let them in. She closed the door behind them, looking at Billy’s back until they were gone.
Steve stopped in the top of the basement stairs and smiled at Billy. “Wait here.”
Steve walked down the stairs and into the chatter that was caused by six teens plus Nancy and Robin.
“Hey, there you are!” Dustin said. “We’ve been waiting for ages. What was the emergency?”
Steve looked at Max, who grinned.
“I want you all to meet someone,” Steve said, and glanced at Nancy, who looked down. “Someone who’s really important to me.”
Everyone looked at Steve expectantly.
“It’s OK,” Steve turned to say to Billy and gestured him to come down.
Billy’s heart was thundering in his chest. The kids meant a lot to Steve, and being introduced to them as Steve's boyfriend felt like being introduced to a girlfriend’s dad for the first time. He walked down the stairs and smiled shyly when Steve took his hand.
“You all know Billy. But not as my boyfriend. Which he is.”
Everyone looked at them surprised. But when Robin started with “Well it was about damn time you two came out!”, their faces turned into smiles.
Steve and Billy sat down on the sofa. “Hey babe,” Steve whispered and stetched his arm over Billy's shoulders, pulling Billy close to him to his side. “They won’t bite. But just tell me if you want to leave, it's totally OK."
“No, I'm good, for now,” Billy replied and leaned tighter on Steve's side. He felt awkward and very self-conscious, feelings he hadn't felt for a while. He felt also exposed, but the setting wasn't as scary as he had thought. Steve was with him, and with Steve he could do anything, even if it scared him shitless. And it was as if their revelation had been just an informative matter for these kids, Nancy and Robin, then the normal shenanigans continued.
He only wished them coming out would be as easy for the rest of the world. But inside he already knew that it wouldn't be.
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seepunkrun · 6 years
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The Hot Phlebotomist, cont.
In the Lost Epilogue of The Hot Phlebotomist, which I wrote and decided not to use, Rodney's waiting for John at the coffee shop:
Twenty minutes sounded ideal twelve minutes ago--enough time for him to prepare, but not so much that he overprepares and comes out the other side all crazy--but now that he's sitting across from an empty chair and still has eight minutes to go he's starting to think this was a terrible idea. Every time the bell above the door jingles, he looks up; there's hospital staff coming in alone or in groups, but no John, and Rodney drinks an entire cup of coffee and shreds most of his napkin while running through all the ways this could go wrong. What if John changes his mind? What if he never meant to come at all? What if he's hit by a bus crossing the street and Rodney's so upset by the accident he unthinkingly orders the blackberry and lemon pancakes and has to be rushed to the emergency room where they're put in adjacent beds and get sick of each other's company? This is a terrible date, and if John ever gets here, Rodney's going to tell him so.  
@esteefee expressed interest in an AU where they meet by ending up in adjacent hospital beds, which would be so good and also so terrible.
All you hear out of Rodney's curtain is a steady stream of complaints interspersed with him begging to use his laptop for "just, like, fifteen minutes, I swear." And from behind John's curtain, some gentle snores and the occasional Beep! Bloop! Boing! Rodney discovers John has a Nintendo DS over there and "Why does he get an electronic device and I don't? It's not like we're on an airplane and checking my email will send us crashing into a mountain! In fact, if you don't let me check my email there's a good chance we all might die!"
That gets him in trouble with the nurses, of course, and he can hear the other guy snickering behind his curtain, followed by a flourish of digital trumpets.
"Hey, psst, can you get the internet on that thing?"
"Did you just 'psst' me?"
"Answer the question! Wifi--do you have it?"
"Well, sure. How else am I gonna upgrade Cooking Mama's rice maker?"
And then Rodney has to take another little break because the spike in his blood pressure makes all his machines beep and the doctor comes in to frown at him.
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staysaneathome · 2 years
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That Day (Afternoon)
(I made another part of that Entity swap WIP, this time with 90% more Melanie King and 30% more Basira Hussain, enjoy) Jon initially had no inkling that this day was going to be substantially different from any other.
Admittedly, there were some differences from his usual day-to-day roamings, but none that hadn’t been true of other days. He was a whole year older, as the Watcher informed him three weeks after his twelfth birthday, but that was ages ago now and he really didn’t feel any different between twelve and eleven.
The Collection was back in town, but he’d managed to avoid them so far, sometimes by the skin of his teeth. Somehow he continued to escape The Man’s prying gaze and the searchers who roamed the streets, some cognizant, some…not. He wondered if the Watcher allowed him to roam free because his status as The Recorder meant it liked him more than the Man, somehow.
Martin hadn’t been at the park for the past fortnight or so, though he’s promised to visit again as soon as he could the last time he was there.  So he could be forgiven of thinking that this day would be no more significant than the last.
And then he spots an eight-year-old girl toddling after one of the searchers.
She’s tall in the way that suggests she’ll be small later in life, with sparkly hair bobbles and the kind of clothes that come from Marks & Spencer or John Lewis or the other too big, too clean stores where the shop people glare at Jon as he goes past.
She’s asking questions of the searcher (who used to be known as Diana, but has lost what made a lot of her her in the flux and flow of information that The Man commands her to find). Questions like, “what do you know about the ghosts I saw on my holiday” and “why is everything so annoying now” and “why are you holding my hand so tight, it hurts” and “are you sure my daddy won’t mind, because he said he was only going to be gone for five minutes” and “hey, are you even listeningto me, you said you’d listen to me?!”
She’s only little, and she hasn’t lived that long, hasn’t got as many stories in her yet. But she’s had an Encounter with one of the Fourteen, and that called the searcher to her like moths to a flame.  Now the searcher’s taking the little girl back to The Collection, where The Man will Ask her about it.  And that will be the End of her.
Jon should turn around and walk away.  It’s sad, but this has happened millions of times, to millions of other people other than this one girl Jon had the misfortune of seeing. He’s so very incredibly lucky he hasn’t been found and dragged back yet, it’d be stupid to give it all up now. He can’t compromise his own safety for someone he doesn’t even know. He needs to turn around and walk away, see if Martin’s waiting at the park for him.
He’s going to turn around. Right now. Right now. Right. Now. Now. Now.
Now!
Jon has never been the largest child. Even when living with his grandmother and getting three square meals a day plus snacks, he’s always remained small and birdlike and bony. He’s not like Martin, who looks like he’d be soft and huggable, or Tommy, who was solid and square when he pushed Jon and stole his books.
But somehow he manages to barrel into the searcher’s arm and rip the little girl up and away with all the strength in his small body.
Of course, that’s when the girl begins trying to claw his eyes out.
“LET ME GO!!” She screams, wriggling so hard Jon almost drops her as he’s trying to run back across the busy road, car horns blaring around them. “WHO ARE—WHAT ARE—PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW OR I'LL BITE YOUR NOSE OFF, I SWEAR, I SWEAR I WILL!!”
”Stop MOVING!” He yells back at her once he’s safely hit pavement. “The searcher’s going to catch us both otherwise! I’m saving your life!!”
“I DIDN'T ASK YOU TO, YOU STUPID UGLY HEAD!!” The little girl shrieks back.
Jon considers dropping her and booking it himself for a single moment.
But the searcher’s coming for them, and now she’s seen him too, her pace quickening as the knowledge of how much the Man wants his prized Recorder back resonating in her skull until it overrides even basic instincts of pain and survival.
So Jon grits his teeth as the little girl in his arms tears into his shoulder with her sharp little nails and hauls her with him down the street as fast as he can go.
The Watcher tells him the bus pulling up to the station in front of them has a camera that’s faulty on the second level. There are two family groups that are going from sniping at each other to outright exchanging verbal blows over who deserves to get on first, the parents going red in the face with spittle flying from their mouths and the children pulling faces and calling names as the overworked and underpaid bus driver tries to keep order.
It’s easy for Jon to duck through them and drag the girl up the bus stairs with him, as the conflict below devolves into an outright brawl that masks the eight-year-old’s protests.  The bus doors slam shut, and the bus pulls away amidst the yelling and fighting outside.
Jon sags down in the seat on the relatively empty second level. The only other person seems to be a teenager slumped down across the very back seats far away from them, eyes shut and white headphone wires trailing out from under their hijab.
He stares out of the window at the searcher, whose figure is quickly vanishing as the bus picks up speed and merges into the London traffic.
”Okay.” He exhales, loosening his grip on the little girl’s collar. “I think we’re safe.”
The little girl whirls around.  Her teeth snap shut an inch away from his nose.
Jon presses himself against the window. “What is wrong wi—hey! Stop it!!”
“No!” The girl yells back. “That lady was gonna tell me why everything is being so annoying, all the time now and how to make it stop, so I can be happy again, and you, you went and ruined it!!” She’s still flailing, still trying furiously to claw him open, but there’s a frustrated edge to her voice and tears brimming in her eyes.
”I did not!” Jon protests vehemently, trying to keep a grip on her so she doesn’t give him anymore scratches like the one trickling blood down his arm. “She didn’t want to help you! She just wanted to take you back and make you tell your story so the Collection could eat up your life!”
”Liar! How would you know?!” The girl accuses, one of her sparkly hair-bobbles coming undone.
”Because that’s what they tried to do to me.” Jon hisses. “But they didn’t eat all of me, just…just made me into something like them. A monster that eats stories.”
The girl actually pauses for a moment to digest this.
“Are you going to try to eat me, then?” She asks, warily, arms tensing again. “If you’re a monster like that lady.”
”Of course not!” Jon scoffs, then adds, “Eating someone yucky like you would make me sick.”
The little girl goes bug-eyed and she tears her arms out of his grip to cross them over her chest ”I would not! You take that back!”
”No.” Jon says gleefully, then immediately regrets it when the little girl kicks him in the shin. “Ow! Stop that!”
”You started it.” The girl replies moodily, shifting to sit down in the seat properly and swing her legs.
Jon finally turns away to inspect the damage he’s sustained, pulling his shirt away from his arm and hissing as it makes his shoulder burn with pain. The Watcher tells him he needs to disinfect the cuts and maybe have a few stitches if he wants it to not get worse, but he can’t exactly get those easily where he is right now.
”If you’re a monster, why do you bleed like a normal person?” The girl pipes up behind him. Her eyebrows are furrowed.
”Why do you care?” He mutters, shooting her a dirty look.
The girl puffs out her chest, which looks a little odd, given that she’s now sitting on her hands. “I’m gonna be a ghost hunter when I’m grown up. Like in that one movie, but I’ll be even cooler and have a magic sword instead of a weird gun, and I’ll beat up all the ghosts and monsters on my own, except the nice ones, because they’ll be my friends. I’m Melanie, by the way. What’s your name? Do monsters have names?”
”Yes.” Jon replies. He enjoys the silence for a moment.
Melanie’s cheeks puff out like a pufferfish as she glares at him. “Okaay, so what’s your name?”
”Jon.” Jon says curtly.
”That’s not a very good name for a monster.” Melanie informs him.
”I wasn’t always a monster.” Jon tells her sourly. “Just like you.” The little girl doesn’t ask him many more questions for a long time after that.
”What are you looking at?” Melanie says suddenly as the bus is slowing to its fourth stop since they got on.
Jon twists away from the window. “I’m just trying to see if the searcher’s followed us—”
”Not you.” Melanie replies impatiently. “You. What are you looking at?”
The back of Jon’s neck goes cold. He twists around slowly.
The teenager in the hijab isn’t slumped across the seats. She’s half-way to standing, and staring right at them. Her eyes are cold and intent.
They stay like that, frozen for a moment.
”Melanie, run!!” He screams.
Melanie throws herself towards the stairs as the teenager explodes into motion behind them. Jon can feel her fingers try to snag on the back of his shirt as he thunders down the stairs, only narrowly missing him as he half-falls the rest of the way down and pelts out the bus doors to the sound of the driver yelling indignantly.
One of Melanie’s sparkly bobbles has fallen out and her hair is drooping down as she turns to grab onto Jon’s hand while they run.
”Stop!” The teenager yells. “Hey!” She’s gaining on them.
Jon tries to Know where they can go to lose her, how they can escape, but the Watcher just gives him useless tidbits instead; that man with the skateboard there has undiagnosed intermittent explosive disorder, this lady jogging over up ahead served two tours as a nurse in her youth to pay for her medical degree, that young person with the pins on their bag here is coordinating a flash mob on his phone to protest—
“Go away already!” Melanie complains on a furious exhale, and kicks a discarded can in her path hard.
It rockets away from her, bounces off a rubbish bin, and somehow jams in between the wheels of the man’s skateboard. He yelps as he falls, but roars when the teenager chasing them runs directly into him without slowing down, rising to block her path. The lady jogging furrows her brow with alarm, and races forwards to put herself between what she sees as a hostile and a young civilian in need of her protection, inadvertently preventing the teenager from advancing in her attempts to diffuse the situation and keep the man from lashing out at her physically. The person on their phone looks up and sets their jaw, switching it to video record the conflict and grabbing the teenager back even further, acting as a shield and spit inflammatory accusations that do more to raise tempers and attract attention than to resolve anything.
Jon watches all this with rapt eyes, drinking it in until his hand is jerked hard and he almost falls over.
”C’mon!” Melanie yells, irritated and scared and guilty and angry, the mark of the Slaughter almost an audible note to her voice, her footsteps. “We need to get away from those creepy ladies, find somewhere to hide, where do we go?!”
To hide.  Jon tightens his grip on Melanie’s hand and changes their course slightly, heading towards a place he frequents regularly.
”Follow me,” He gasps, trying to ignore the stitch in his side. “I have a friend.”
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aestheticsuwu · 3 years
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When Our Eyes Met
Robby Keene x Doug Rickenberger
A Huge thank you to @oceluna , for giving me the boost I needed to upload this new ship !
We are blessed for having this beautiful human (@oceluna ) being for giving us a part of their time to create wonderful LawRusso content and other ships !💖😊
( Binary Boyfriends + SamxMiguel + Lawrusso ) Part 3
.... ..... .....
He should've know having Sam and Demetri as friends would only cause him trouble . Now he's being forced on a date but he didn't even know who Hawk would set him up .
For all he knows Hawk would pick a random stranger , why did he think that life would go easy on him . He really can't catch a break , okay maybe he's exaggerating a little bit .
He thinks he's allowed to be dramatic , atleast they had already decided what Demetri was going to wear , black flannel shirt with a white shirt underneath and some skinny jeans .
Heading out to go home to change as well , but not before assuring Demetri that everything would turn out fine .  Hawk was in love with Demetri ass and well , vice versa .
....
He went to the kitchen to grab something to drink , his dad was there serving a cup of juice . Quickly going to cupboard and handing over the glass to his dad .
" Me and Daniel are going to watch a movie later , order some pizza wanna join . "
" I would love to dad but I got a date . "
" is she hot ? "
" Is actually a blind date . "
" She's blind ? " His dad had a funny look as he was confused , Dad L came in laughing along with  Robby .
" John the person isn't blind , it just means both people don't know what they look like . Robby be safe , i want the 3 of you back at 10  "
"you got it , dad . "
Hugging his Dad L , before leaving to go change .
Johnny makes sure the coast is clear before pining Daniel against the counter .
" Guess we're having the house to ourselves , I was thinking having you in nothing but my shirt -
" Laying down in bed , just waiting for you to join me "
" mhmm " The blonde puts his hand on Daniels ass , he really had the best ass . Daniel arms holds on to his neck , as he pulls him in more closer . He leans in to kiss him .
" for us to talk about our lovely deep  emotions . "
Daniel laughs at the face the blond has , he couldn't help it . He gives kiss on the cheek before leaving , with Johnny behind him .
" You really know how to kill a boner , Bambi.  "
..... ..... ...
One of the things he and his dad have in common was that they really didn't know how to receive compliments . Here he was blushing and not knowing what to say as Sam and Demetri kept talking .
" Damn Robby , lookin mighty fine !  . "
" So handsome   and those jeans , right  Demetri ? "
 " Agreed that ass is out of this world . "
" Shut up ! "
He quickly shouted as he got to the front seat , He quickly look one last time in the mirror of the car , while waiting for Sam and Demetri to get in . Pep talks were thrown , mainly for Demetri . Arriving , looking through the open glass window , they could see Hawks purple Mohawk , Miguels waving , and a taller boy .
" Hey guys " Miguel came over as the other two stayed back . He stood next to Demetri to reassure him everything was alright . It looked like hawk and his friend were fighting , until the two quickly came over .
" Everything okay ? " Demetri questioned Hawk , gosh Hawk wasn't subtle about his feelings for his best friend with that stare or gaze whatever you want to call it .
" Yeah , perfect ! Robby this is Doug Rickenberger , Doug this is Robby Keene shall we go in . "
They both incline their heads to each other for acknowledgment.  Doug was way taller than him and his broad shoulders didn't help Robbys height . He was wearing a Red shortsleve  shirt ,  black jeans and some vans . 
They were seated down, everyone was at the table with their individual date . The tables weren't together but enough distance where they all could hear each other . And it was awkward and quiet at first . Sam and Miguel tried to ease the moment , but it was clear him and Doug wish their were somewhere else but here .
It wasn't their first time seeing each other but their encounters were brief.  He had seen the tall boy with Hawk before . Once in awhile he would go to his dad dojo , Doug must've seen him those few times .
Also sometimes his Dad and Daniel would do classes together , but usually he would stick with Myagi-Do students .
Sam and Miguel were already in a relationship , so they were having a blast and it seemed Demetri and Hawk were hitting it off . So Here he was making small talk every time it got to quiet .
" so you like karate ? " He internally just cringed at himself but hey he was trying . He guess it wasn't that bad by the chuckle of  Doug
" Yeah , what's it like to have two dads - "
" There's no difference , their just parents . Just because their both dudes and i have a mom too "
" I was gonna say what's it like to have both parents that know karate . "
Guess he should've have left the other boy finish , it was just that some people still don't understand that times have changed .
" I'm sorry I got all defensive  on you . "
He gave Doug a small smile hoping the latter wouldn't notice how embarrassed he felt .
" Its alright , uhh do you play any other sports maybe soccer . "
Nodding to the question  but then realise he had to answer before the mood gets ruined again .
" uh yeah when I was little , haven't played recently actually . Do you ? "
" Yeah I'm on the soccer team . Maybe you should try out , I wouldn't mind having you on the team unless your not good as you are in karate . "
Doug finish with a teasing  smirk and a raised eyebrow waiting for the blonde to answer .
" I like to let you know that I was the best player on my team when I was a kid , well that's what my dad and Mom said but I withstand my point . "
Both burst out laughing , and once the waitress come with their food their both smiling at each other .
If felt kinda nice , it was awhile Robby hadn't laughed and gone out with someone that wasn't his friends or his parents .
...... ....... ........ Doug Pov
Doug was friends with Hawk since he joined cobra kai , they would hanged out in School.  After school he would go to the dojo or to soccer practice . 
Today he was free and had nothing to do , so he easily accepted Hawks idea . But he wasn't expecting said date to be a boy and son of his Sensei. 
He wasn't into guys ,but he didn't mind the idea of dating one but he's just never seem to find a guy he would date . Here he was standing in front of his date as Hawk introduces him .
Robby had green eyes and freckles across his cheeck and nose . Dark blond hair and a nice smile . He was short compared to his height , he wore a black shirt with blue jeans .
His brain came to a conclusion : Pretty boy
..... ...... ......
" Do you want get out of here ? "
" Like right now ? "
" Yeah "
The two couples were distracted as they both left the dinner . Grabbing a hoodie from their own car as quickly as they could . Who knows why but they started running without realising they were holding hands . Their laughter was left echoing behind them .
They stopped at the  skate park  as they got tired . There were few people skating there , he turned to look at Robby once he didn't feel his hand . He watched as he jogged back holding a skateboard .
" Do you know how to skate? "
Holding a skateboard felt unfamiliar to him , handing it back to Robby who was wearing a cheeky smile .
" No , I'm guessing you do . "
" I know a few things . "
He shouldve known by that cocky smile he was lying . He watched Robby do some amazing stuff , he even showed that one hand stand . Then it was his turn , he failed miserably all the times . He asked what was the secret , as he once again falls .
" Its all about  balance "
Robby looked up at him as he answered him .  He understood the answer , since Mr. Larusso  karate did involve balance .
Noticing they were standing close , face to face . Maybe it was the way the moon and street light illuminate the blondes face . Or the way he was smiling at him that he said those words .
" is there something on my face ? "
" Sorry it's just I never knew a boy could be as beautiful as you ... "
Seeing the surprise look and the addition of the blush contrasting his tan skin made his beat faster . God when did he become such a girl . His thoughts are interrupted when Robby quickly steps back ,  misstep and hurts his ankle .
.... ..... .. ...
Arriving at the dinner place he could see their friends waiting for them at their cars . Holdding on tight to Robby thighs for he wouldn't fall of his back . Chuckling as the boy groans in embarrassment as  the others start to come closer seeing their situation .
" Robby are you okay ? Where were you two , we were worried . ! "
" I'm alright Sam , Me and Doug went for a walk and I hurt my ankle , hence why Doug is giving me a piggyback ride . "
" Oh I thought you decided to climb him like a tree cause - "
" Demetri ! " Robby tightens his arms as he shouts to quiet his friend . walking to Sam's car he hears the blonde mumbling while his head nudging against his shoulder .
Meanwhile everyone were saying goodbye he helps Robby get in the car . As gently as he could , he was stopped when he was opening the door . The latter looked nervous as he looked at him while bitting his lip .
" I had a good time , we should do it sometime again if you want or not ? "
" Yeah definitely.  I will text you now that I have your number . "
He was already a sucker for that smile that showed off his dimples . Smiling , he leans in to give a kiss on the cheeck but Robby stops him as the blonde leans to give him a quick peck on the mouth .
" Bye ! "
" Bye . " Walking back he couldn't help but look back and wave at the blonde when he  catches his eye . shit , he was totally blushing now .
....... ...... ... Robby Pov .......
Sam and Demetri both entered asking questions if he was really fine or in pain . once he assured them that he was alright , Demetri took it as a sign to tease him .
" We want all the info , cause we totally saw you , you slutty marshmallow ! "
Sidenote : Part 3 of the triple date , hope you guys like it . Also what would the ship name be Roug or Dobby . I like Roug ! . Side mentions of Lawrusso because why not . This was supposed to be Apocalypse / Zombie au but this ^^ was made at the thought of a triple date with the binary boyfriends .
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peterxwade24 · 3 years
Text
Safety Found in Red Sleeves
Chapter 7
So, who’s ready for Gotham ft. Thana and friends? Also, Uncles Ed and John show up at the end so, look out for that.
Anyways...
Jason woke up early that next day, and he decided he was just going to have a little bit of a lie in. He smiled and pulled Damian closer, shushing him when he made a noise in protest. “I’m pretty sure the girls are going to join us in a little bit, and then Tim a little while after that.”
Just like he expected, Steph and Cass joined them in the bed not too long after he said it, and then Tim joined in a few minutes after the girls. The five of them laid in bed, everyone finding comfort in each other. No words were passed between the family, they didn’t feel the need to speak.
That’s where Dick and Wally, and their kids, found them about an hour later.
“Why weren’t we called to join the cuddle pile?” Dick pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, while Mar’i, Jay, and Iris ducked around their fathers and climbed into the bed. They, like Damian, chose a Wayne and clung to them. Mar’i clung to Tim, Iris clung to Steph and Jai clung to Cass.
“There’s a nine-year-old practically asleep on my chest. My phone is on my nightstand. None of them brought their phones to my bed.” Jason whispered and carded his fingers through Damian’s hair.
Dick shot a look at Wally, Wally simply shrugged as though to say “when in Rome” before he too got into the bed.
“C’mon Dickiebird. We don’t have anything to do today. We don’t start guiding or protecting them till tomorrow.” Jason’s words were slightly slurred in his comfortable state.
Dick huffed good-naturedly before climbing into the bed with his family and the Wests.
---
Tim’s phone blared from the room he’d claimed, stirring the almost completely asleep cuddle pile into wakefulness.
Jason frowned and shifted Damian from his chest to Steph’s other side. “I’ll be right back. Imma go answer Timber’s phone.” Jason slowly got out of the bed, being careful to not displace the other kids, and quietly left the room. He made his way into Tim’s room, grabbed his phone off of the night stand, and, without looking at the caller ID, answered the phone. “Timothy Jackson Drake’s phone, Jason speaking.”
“Why do you have his phone?” Bruce’s irritated voice came over the line.
“Because Tim’s in my bed asleep with most of my family and he left his phone on the nightstand next to the bed he sleeps in.” Jason’s voice didn’t change despite a grin forming on his face. “If something’s gone wrong at Wayne Enterprises, then shouldn’t you as the CEO be stepping up to solve it? And not your seventeen year old son.”
“You have no-” Bruce growled.
“I have no what? Room to care about my little brother? Right to care that my brothers and sisters would perish in your care?” Jason’s tone took on a deadly edge. “I have killed for less. I have killed to keep my son safe. I am not above maiming in the defense of those I love.” Jason hung up the phone and put it back down on the nightstand with a weighted sigh. He turned and the only indication he was surprised by Cass’s appearance was a slight widening to his eyes. “Hey Cass.”
Cass simply walked towards her brother and let herself slump against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him in her own display of thanks.
Jason simply rubbed circles into the older girl’s back. “I will not let him hurt any of you ever again. Harvey and I will fight tooth and nail if we have to, he has already given up his parental rights to Damian. You and Steph and Tim are just as much my siblings as you are my kids, well, you not so much a kid but you know what I mean.”
Cass shook with silent laughter and nodded. She patted Jason’s back and pulled back. She flashed him a smile before pulling him back to the rest of the family. 
---
Jason smiled as Damian ran around the park with Mar’i, Jai and Iris. Damian hadn’t had many opportunities to open up to children his age, as there hadn’t been any in the league, and despite the fact that he was older than the other three the four of them got along fairly well. Jason watched as Dick fretted over the three younger kids, Wally stood beside him with a small affectionate grin on his face. Tim was riding a skateboard around the park, Bart keeping pace beside him. Cass sat with Kon while Steph, Cassie and Cissie chatted a few paces away from the other two.
Damian, Mar’i, Jai and Iris ran around the park, weaving around other patrons and laughing. Damian looked over his shoulder at the other three when he ran into someone.
“Are you okay? Oh I’m so sorry.” A girl, who was with the person Damian ran into, spoke with a French accent. She was significantly taller than her companion with long black hair, the bangs and tips of which were dyed purple, and copper coloured eyes. She fretted over both Damian and her friend, who Damian was finally taking in. Her friend was short, just a head or two taller than Damian, with blue eyes and short pink hair, part of which was pulled back into a spiky ponytail.
Damian nodded. “I’m fine.”
Mar’i, Jai and Iris, upon seeing Damian standing, turned and ran to get their fathers.
The taller girl nervously flicked her bangs out of her face before frowning. “Are you sure you’re okay? Alix doesn’t always look where she’s skating.”
The other girl, apparently named Alix, looked ready to comment when Dick and Wally approached.
“Are you okay Damian?” Dick’s tone was filled with concern while Wally hung back with the three other kids.
“I’m fine Uncle Dick.” Damian frowned, “where’s Baba?”
“He’s gathering the other three, then they’ll be over here.” Dick reassured his young brother/nephew.
Jason ran to his son and scooped him up. “Oh Kutlat Saghira. Are you okay?” He turned to look at the French teens and smiled. “Thank you for stopping to make sure he was fine.”
Alix’s eyes widened before nodding. “Yeah, uh, no problem.”
Juleka gave a shy smile and nodded. “It was the least we could do.”
-*-*-*
Thana stared at her friends, the three who had always had her back and the two newest additions to their ranks. She took a moment to thank Plagg and Tikki, without whom she may never have met her closest friends and allies. She took in her friends and the way that all of their outfits seemed to go together without being obnoxiously matchy-matchy.
Alix seemed to be vibrating in her shoes, which were custom made turtle shell patterned Heelys. She wore dark gray distressed jeans with a dark forest green racerback tank top. She had a black and red men’s flannel over her tank with a red beanie perched on the top of her head. She had a dark green turtle themed shoulder bag strapped across her back.
Nino, standing next to Alix, had similar shoes done in snake skin instead of turtle shell. He wore loose-fitting blue denim jeans with several snake related patches around the side seems, he had a gray collared shirt under a red sweatshirt. He had a black shoulder bag across his back, on the opposite side Alix’s was. He had his normal headphones around his head while he had a pair of black headphones atop his head.
Adrien wore black and white checkered vans with white socks. His pants were salmon with baby pink criss-crossing stripes covering them. He wore a baby pink sweater with a light gray fanny pack.
Chloé wore a layered yellow skirt with a pair of foxes chasing each other around her hem, her skirt was made up of a solid layer of yellow silk under two or three layers of tulle. She had a white crop top tank under a red knit cardigan. She had an orange coloured baguette purse at her side. She had black converse with black socks to finish off her outfit.
Kim wore a pair of black running shoes, with gray sweatpants and a white shirt. He had a red zippered hoodie on top of that. He had a tiny gray ox with a smaller black cat curled up on its back on the hem of his shirt.
Thana had a pair of black running shoes, with gray leggings and a white tank top. She had a red crop top hoodie made of the hoodie she’d received from Jason all those years ago with a few added panels. Her tank top had little depictions of the Vietnamese zodiac animals on her chest.
Alix smiled brighty. “So, Kiti, you’ll never guess who I ran into, almost literally, yesterday.”
Thana hummed in acknowledgement as she led the group to the elevator. “Who’d you run into Rùa?”
“Oh, just, your brother, his brother, and an assortment of children.” Alix grinned as Thana froze and turned to look at her.
“What?” Thana’s voice was almost too quiet to hear, prompting Kim to drape his arm across her shoulders while Nino settled his normal headphones around Thana’s neck.
Chloé stared at Adrien, her blue eyes seeming to stare into Adrien’s soul.
“Hey, Al, that maybe wasn’t the best thing to say when we’re trying to get to the lobby to go on a tour with the rest of our class.” Adrien attempted to gently tell her off, but it backfired.
“Whatever.” Alix slunk ahead of them into the elevator.
---
Adrien looked at Alix forlornly as Alix chatted with Juleka. He knew he’d have to apologize eventually, he may have one fear as Monsieur Punaise (which was his partner) but he had two fears as Adrien Agreste, and they were disappointing his father and an angry Chloé Bourgeois. He shook his head and looked back at Chloé, who had a frown on her face as her eyes continued to scan the streets.
Nino fiddled with his phone as he kept pace a step behind Chloé but a step ahead of Thana and Kim. He looked to be fully absorbed in his phone but he was quick to pull Chloé away from the street a few moments before a car came whizzing past.
Their tour guide, a pleasant man who’d introduced himself as Richard, despite the fact that the bodyguard had snorted in response before neglecting to introduce himself, led them around Gotham. He pointed out all of the touristy destinations, while Thana mumbled what could be considered sad facts about each place.
Thana kept flicking her eyes to the bodyguard, there was only one Gothamite with the exact same build as their bodyguard with the same scars littering his cheeks and jaw. She was worrying the cuffs of her jacket sleeves when she heard the distinctive tap of her Uncle Ed’s cane. She whipped around to attempt to locate him, before seeing him and his tacky suit and her Uncle John and his equally as tacky suit approaching from behind Kim. She broke away from the group, causing the rest of her class (as well as the tour guide and bodyguard) to turn to stare at her as she threw herself into her Uncle Ed’s arms.
“Little Hood. It’s good to see you.” Her Uncle Ed held her close while Uncle John finally reached the duo.
“Hey Mini Todd.” Her Uncle John ruffled her hair before settling an arm around Ed’s shoulders.
The three reunited for a moment under the watchful eyes of the class’ bodyguard, Thana’s friends, and Marinette’s class. Kim pulled out his phone to take a picture to send to his Mẹ, because she had asked for any updates on Thana’s family situation. Nino took a picture to send to Thana, because he knew she’d want to have photographic evidence of when she reunited with her two of her uncles.
“I missed you two so much.” Thana whispered into Ed’s neck while John settled his hand on the back of Thana’s head.
“We missed you too.” John assured their niece, he knew that she’d had doubts about whether or not they had actually missed her as much as she’d missed them, and he hated her father for giving her that complex every day.
Lila let out a blood-curdling scream before appearing to tremble as she pointed at the trio. “Marinette is hugging The Riddler and Scarecrow!” Lila then proceeded to pretend to faint, luckily for her Alya was right there to catch her, unluckily for her everyone else was focused on their classmate and that fact that she appeared to have tears streaming down her cheeks.
Taglist:
@southamericangothamite @maribat-is-lifeblood @mystery-5-5 @our-preciousss @mochegato @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitch @2confused-2doanything @wannajointhecrabcult @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmymind @moonlightstar64 @justafanwarrior @mialuvscats @pheony1882 @pepelachanel @moongoddesskiana @abrx2002 @ladybug-182 @greatcatblaze @thatonecroc @vixen-uchiha @superbwhispersconnoisseur @lilkymilky @susiej1118  @bluesimani @thatonecroc
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marybethsjournal · 3 years
Text
I’m working on a RDR2 AU, it’s literally so divergent from canon lol. It’s mostly focused on Lenny and Sean, who are seniors in high school, but all the gang members making an appearance. Here’s the character sheet I made so far if anyone’s interested in seeing what’s coming:
Lenny- one of the main protagonists. Blackwater High senior on honor roll, first chair trumpet in the band, skateboards. Works at Dutch’s Dough pizza place. Ex boyfriend of Jenny.
Tilly- Lenny’s younger sister. Blackwater High sophomore, one of the most valued members on the debate team, babysits kids on weekends.
Hosea- Lenny and Tilly’s grandfather (adopted father of their dad). Acts in local commercials, has a lot of money that nobody seems to know where it came from, spends most of his days reading and on the phone with Dutch when the younger man has an emergency and doesn’t know how to handle it (this happens quite often).
Uncle- Hosea’s brother??? Nobody’s really sure about his exact relation to the family but he lives in the Matthews household now and they can’t seem to get rid of him. A terrible influence.
Susan: Lenny and Tilly’s grandmother (adopted mother of their dad). The substitute teacher at Blackwater High that everyone fears. Can sniff out trouble better than a drug dog. Primary caretaker of Isaac.
Arthur: 28, son of Susan and Hosea. Father of Isaac. Recently moved back home after Eliza’s passing. Works security at nightclubs, mostly, but takes jobs wherever he can. Runs a secret internet persona that started out with him journaling in a blog; he’s internet famous but no one knows.
Eliza: ex-wife of Arthur and mother of Isaac. Was a kindergarten teacher. Died protecting the children from a school shooter.
Isaac: Arthur and Eliza’s son. 4 years old. Wants to be just like Lenny. Love dogs and wants to be a vet when he grows up. He’s also a little artist and gets all his artwork hung up on the fridge.
Sean: one of the main protagonists. Black High senior, failing out of school, barely literate, skateboards and thinks that’s a whole personality. Always hyped up on energy drinks. Works at Dutch’s Dough pizza place (Lenny saved him from getting fired like 3 times before the story even starts). Dating Karen.
Molly: Sean’s older sister. Freshman at West Elizabeth University. Works as Dutch’s personal secretary. She thinks he loves her (he doesn’t). Hopes to own her own makeup empire someday. Hand sews her and Sean’s clothing just because she enjoys it (Sean usually just puts the clothes she makes him at the back of his closet and wears name brands anyway). Acts like a “mean girl” but doesn’t have any friends besides Sadie.
John: 20, Sean and Molly’s cousin. Works at SJ’s Mechanic shop. Abigail’s boyfriend and Jack’s dad. Won’t take help from anybody and is barely keeping his family’s head above water.
Abigail: 19, mother of Jack and girlfriend of John. Has no life outside of Jack and is suffering from PPD. Enjoys singing and dancing. Holds the affection of Josiah.
Jack: infant son of John and Abigail.
Josiah: sophomore at West Elizabeth University. Training as a student teacher but his heart is in the preformative arts. All the girls at Blackwater high swoon over him, but him being 19, that’s never going to happen. Has a huge crush on Abigail.
Mary Beth: Blackwater high sophomore. one of Tilly’s best friends. Quiet and shy, she practically runs the school newspaper. Is in colourguard. Also on the debate team but mostly to support Tilly. Has a new friend on Kieran, whom she brought into the friend group. Has a crush on Arthur, but knowing it couldn’t and shouldn’t work out, has other wavering crushes on several guys: Javier, Josiah, Lenny.
Karen: Blackwater high junior. One of Tilly’s best friends. Does pretty well in school but often gets into fights and various other forms of trouble. Skateboards with Sean and Lenny. Helps Tilly out with the babysitting. Is on the cheer and volleyball team. Volunteers on a farm where lessons are given to special needs kids as a form of therapy and comfort. Dating Sean.
Kieran: New in town. Blackwater High sophomore. Volunteers at the farm with Karen. Met Mary Beth when he joined the colour guard team.
Bill: Blackwater High junior. A bully at school that for some reason has decided to take Kieran under his wing. Generally an asshat. Planning on going into the army.
Pearson: 30, works a food truck next to the skate park. A sort of mentor to the kids. Wants to become a professional chef.
Strauss:65, boring as Hell teacher at Blackwater High lol.
Reverend Swanson: 48, washed up preacher that is now getting his sermons written by Dutch. Nobody knows why Dutch is now writing these sermons.
Dutch: 45, CEO of Dutch’s Dough pizza chain. Doesn’t actually know how to run a business. Charismatic. Is way too old for Molly but is still playing her.
Sadie:21, Mechanic at SJ’s car shop. Molly’s friend. Can only be described as a badass haha.
Micah: VP at Dutch’s Dough. Everyone hates him but Dutch. Probably steals candy from babies.
Mary: Arthur’s ex. Wants to get back with him but he isn’t ready yet. Works at her father’s orchard. Is Molly’s fashion inspiration.
Charles:27, Arthur’s best friend. Works security with him but is climbing up in the world of shampoo modeling.
Javier: Blackwater High senior. Most popular guy in school. Basketball star.
Jenny: Lenny’s ex. Passed in a car accident.
Mac and Davey Callender: 19, workers at the local Van’s store. Probably stoners.
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collecting-stories · 4 years
Text
Home - Kiara Carrera
Request: hi! can i request a platonic pogue imagine where kie is assaulted at a party and the pogues are all super protective and concerned?
A/N: The title comes from a poem by Rupi Kaur of the same name from her book The Sun and Her Flowers. I have excerpts from the same poem at the beginning and end of this. 
T/W: This talks entirely of sexual assault and violence. It’s not in graphic detail but please read with caution if that’s something that upsets you. 
Outer Banks Masterlist
~
It began as a typical Thursday from what I can recall
Sunlight kissed my eyelids good morning
-
Kiara had a million dreams about leaving the OBX but they always involved coming back. The beach was a part of her. Other people talked about the Outer Banks like it was prison, like if they could belong to anywhere they would never choose that island but Kiara knew differently. The Outer Banks wasn’t just the place she lived it was her home. It ran through her blood. All her best memories were here, on the Cut with the pogues, at home with her parents...even when things got tough at school she still belonged, in some way. Other people came and went, they visited and never stayed, but the OBX was her home. Her hometown, her security blanket. It was the first sand she ever stepped on, the first wave she ever caught.  
She could remember learning to drive stick shift in her dad’s old car down back roads and sitting outside in the salt air while her mom tried umpteen times to braid her hair the way she had seen in youtube videos. All her friends were here. All her family. It was the place she felt the most love. Every piece of her could be tied to the OBX.  
She loved the Outer Banks. The beach, the Cut, even the Eight. The boneyard, the Wreck, every landscape, every lighthouse, every pebble on the island held a piece of her heart and she loved it all dearly. But love doesn’t always last.  
“Can I ride with her?”  
It sounded like Pope’s voice but something was covering her ears, she tried lift her hand up, pull whatever it was off her ears, but her arm was strapped down. Someone pressed a hand to her arm and she flinched.  
“It’s okay honey,” a woman said, voice even. Her face came into view, hazy like Kiara couldn’t quite focus on the image, “we’re gonna take you to the hospital okay?”
“Can I ride with her?” Pope repeated, his voice cracking. If she could’ve seen him she would’ve seen the terrified look in his eyes. Bloodshot, cheeks stained with tears, as he pushed against the officer holding him back.  
John B was off to the side, holding Sarah. Shoupe had JJ pushed back, trying to calm the boy down. But he looked just as shaken as Pope, face red and fists clenching so hard his nails were digging into his palms.  
“You have to follow behind, I’m sorry. Only family are allowed to ride along in the ambulance.” The woman, who was walking beside the gurney, called out to Pope.  
“Are you fucking kidding me!” JJ shouted, “We are her family!”  
“Hey, calm down!” Shoupe pushed JJ back again.
“Fuck you!”  
When another cop moved forward Peterkin put her hand up. “He’s fine.” She promised.
Someone grabbed Pope’s arm and he practically jumped, turning away from the ambulance for the first time since it had pulled up. They loaded the stretcher up into the back, the female EMT climbing in after it, reaching out to hold Kiara’s hand. Behind Pope, Topper stood, looking apologetic. He’d come up the beach with some others when they heard the sirens. Most people had fled but an ambulance meant they weren’t here to break up a party.  
“I’ll give you ride.”
“What?” Pope asked, confused. JJ, John B, and Sarah had all turned when they saw Topper approach.  
“Let me drive you guys to the hospital.” He repeated, glancing over at his ex, “it’s the least I can do.”
“Yeah okay.” John B nodded, his whole body shaking as he followed his friends toward Topper’s SUV.
Kiara had been to a million parties in the OBX. Every summer since she was fourteen it felt like she lived half her life at parties on the beach. The pogues brought the keg and they all just hung out, chill, easy, sometimes a fight might break out but that wasn’t typical. She had never felt anything but safe on the beach. It was open and there were always people around and she loved the feeling of hanging with friends and watching the ocean at night.  
The OBX was her great love and the beach was her safe haven.  
And she’d been chatting with different groups like she always did, weaving her way around different people’s narratives and finding new friends. Dancing with JJ, Sarah, whoever. It was like every other night at the beach until she wandered a little further up the sand.  
Maybe it was the third drink, or the fourth...she didn’t know anything other than suddenly feeling bad. Like she was swimming in her own head. She felt like she was going to be sick and she told Sarah she’d be right back. She was going up to the Twinkie.  
God she loved that car. That stupid, rusty, bus that JJ had installed a new tape deck weeks ago when she complained that they needed cassettes in the old junker again. That bus that Pope and JJ found her slumped against.  
“Kie!”  
She remembered little else besides going up the hill to the where the bus was parked but she would never forget the way JJ screamed her name. It was something she’d never heard before. Not happiness, not relief, not anger...he was scared.  
He held her while Pope called 911 and then called Sarah. ‘Something terrible happened, come quick’. He held her until the ambulance came and when he stood in the waiting room, pacing back and forth like a madman, it was her blood that stained his white t-shirt. It was on his arms, under his nailbeds, mixed with his own. When a nurse tried to take a look at his bleeding hands his flinched away from her so hard he bumped into a chair and knocked over a magazine rack.  
“I need to talk to you about what you saw,” it was the first thing Peterkin said when she got to the hospital. She pulled John B down the hall, leaving Sarah curled up in a chair by herself, still crying.  
“Pope and JJ...I wasn’t there when they found Kiara.” John B explained, raking his hands through his hair. What did he see? Nothing...the same thing he saw at every party. People, kegs, more people. “Someone did this to her...we were fucking feet away and someone-” his fist hit the wall and hours later he had it wrapped when his knuckles started to bruise, “someone did this and we weren’t there.”
“I’m trying to figure out who that person is.” It didn’t matter who Peterkin interviewed, all the pogues stories melded into one, singular proclamation.  
“If I knew I’d rip their fucking throat out.”  
Peterkin called Kiara’s parents. They’d been to the hospital with her three times in sixteen years. Once when she was born, once when she pulled boiling water off the stove and her mother had to sit with DCS for hours convincing them she was a good parent, and once when she was fourteen and broke her wrist skateboarding. There was even a picture hanging on their fridge of her, sitting on the exam table, holding her arm up proudly. On the back her dad had written ‘Kiara, age 14, first break’.
The pictures of this went into a folder. Close ups of her thighs, her throat, her face, her hands, arms, wrists, stomach, every part of her documented for a plain manila folder. Her dad stood outside her room and cried for the first time since she was born.  
“You gonna be a big name surfer someday?” Her dad had teased her the first time she went out on a board with him. It was floral and she’d picked it out herself, eager to learn.  
“I’m gonna surf every beach in the world.” She was eight and her mom stood at the edge of the tide, watching them drift further out.
“Which one you think you’ll like the most?”  
“This one.” She had pictures of Hawai’i and Venice Beach and Australia tacked to her wall even then but she knew what she loved.  
Kiara had made it to the Twinkie when she felt her throat close up the way it always did before she puked. She grabbed the hood of the bus and leaned over, throwing up right there in front of John B’s car and thinking that she would have to tell them not to step in it when they left later that night.  
Pope stood barefoot in the hospital waiting room because he’d walked right through it. The police collected his shoes at the scene and he had ridden all the way there with nothing but a pair of gym socks Topper had in his trunk on his feet.  
Kiara had thrown up, wiped her mouth on the back on her hand, and stood, her mind on grabbing a water bottle from inside the Twinkie, when someone grabbed her. They knocked the wind out of her, shoving her forward into the car that was parked next to the bus. Her head hit the car and a hand pushed her face down against the hood. When she tried to scream, and she couldn’t even tell if she was screaming or even opening her mouth, they lifted her by her hair and threw her against the side of the Twinkie.  
It could’ve been anyone. When she woke up and Peterkin came in to talk to her the reality of it all felt like it was crashing down on her. Like a wave pulling her under the ocean and she was fighting to break the surface.  
“I didn’t see him...I didn’t...I can’t....he could’ve been anyone.”  
“We’re gonna keep looking baby,” Peterkin had promised but the truth was there was a whole island to search. Most of the kids had fled when they heard the sirens and there was no way of knowing if Kiara’s attacker hadn’t fled before that. The moment he heard Pope and JJ calling for their best friend.  
Topper told John B he’d keep an ear to the ground. Kelce and Rafe expressed the same sentiment. JJ, Pope, and John B kept a close watch on any pogues but it became more and more clear that the person who did this hadn’t just left the party. They had left the island.  
A touron. Here one day, gone the next. A stranger. A faceles, nameless, person had come into town for a vacation. On summer break with family, with friends, with someone. They had come onto her island and they had taken it from her. Kiara’s mom sat in the hosptial bed beside her for days, holding her daughter the way she used to when she was small and reminding her of every single person on that island that loved her, hoping against all hope that Kiara would feel even an inkling of that. And when she went home, when she climbed out onto her roof along in the middle of the night and she looked out at the ocean it all looked the same but she wondered if it even recognized her anymore.  
-
This home is what I came into this world with
Was the first home
Will be the last home
You cannot take it
There is no space for you
No welcome mat
~
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subarubi · 4 years
Text
Desert Days
Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader
Summary: “If this war ever ends-- and he assured you that it will eventually-- you’ll tell Sam Wilson you love him.”  
Warnings: 18+, profanity, angst for days, extreme injury and death (blood), mentions of PTSD, implied smut
A/N: 9.6k word count, goddamn. This is a very Sam heavy one-shot. Also, I tried to make the reader as gender neutral as possible! 
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2001. 
A colossal mountain of mutilated steel and concrete rubble sits, smoking, in the center of the world. Lower Manhattan. Financial District. Eight blocks that make up ‘Wall Street’, some elusive playpen for the invisible but potent power of ‘stock’. Destroyed. And with it, lives, hopes and dreams. 2,606 bodies buried there in the debris. An illusion of invincibility crushed in too. In the flames that lick at ruins of the Twin Towers, an Indian summer. The warm September haze forcefully burrows itself in the guts of New Yorkers, Americans, the world. It’s fear, not flush. It’s anger. 
How could this happen? To us?
The news outlets evoke the memory of a vastly different war. They call it a day that will live in infamy. Which, it will. Undoubtedly. Yet, it’s hardly the same as Pearl Harbor. Perhaps, the only thing comparable, but dissimilar all the same. Since the greatest generation created generations of their own, the pastime of waging war happened elsewhere. On other lands. In other homes. To other people. 
September 11th, 2001 burst the bubble of willful ignorance. War is happening. And there is a debt to be paid for crimes. All crimes. Even American. 
Sam Wilson is only twenty when it happens-- 
--waking up next to a girl from English class that he’d been playing footsie with in the library the day before. Her cellphone, pink and bejeweled, rings at 7 am drawing them both from slumber. Sam rubs the hangover from his temple as she unwinds her limbs from his, both sticky with sweat. Through tears she turns and tells him. 
Four planes hijacked. Two crashed into the World Trade Center. One at the Pentagon. Another in a Pennsylvania field.
Sam’s from New York City. Harlem. He’s stood at the bottom of those towers before-- a kid with a skateboard carving lines over all five boroughs. But he hasn’t been back to the East Coast in years. No reason to. Mom was laid to rest next to Pops and Sam ran away to the other side of the country not long after. The news isn’t any less devastating.
He’s at UCLA, majoring in philosophy of all things. It all seems so pointless then. Studying knowledge, reality, existence, when the rest of the world is bleeding. 
Everyone is in pain. 
Soldiers. Doctors. Accountants. Car Salesmen. Kindergarten Teachers. They demand their pain be spread. They want revenge. They want blood. War is now felt by all.
In October, the US invades Afghanistan.
Sam enlists in November. 
2003.
“Superman School” is what it’s called. Sam thinks it should rather be called simply, “Hell”. 
Indoc is easy. Sam has always liked the water and it’s just nine weeks of basically swimming. But what follows is two grueling years of vicious emotional and physical exertion. The events, the ache inside that led him there, are practically forgotten when the training starts. In Combat Dive School, he’d panicked the first few times an oxygen tank was strapped to his back and a regulator shoved in his mouth. In Paramedic training, he’d slipped and stabbed his fingers practicing sutures so much that he lost feeling there for a week. During SERE, Sam lost a toe nail; that hurt like a motherfucker. It was probably the most physical pain he’d ever been in at the point of his life. The guys, other PJs in training, don’t let that one go for a couple of months. At least. 
The best part, perhaps the only remotely good part, is Army Airborne and Military Free-fall Parachutist training. 
“It’s not exactly flying, but it feels like it,” Sam speaks animatedly into the receiver after chow on a Tuesday night, “It feels like fucking flying and you always imagine that flying is cool but then you do it and, I swear--”
He spends the next fifteen minutes going on and on and when his girlfriend, Lisa from English class with the pink bejeweled phone, finally hangs up, Sam feels like there’s so much he still hasn’t gotten to say about it. 
In a different life, I might’ve been a bird, he says during a poker game later that night. 
They're all chasing their own highs after the first jump, but no one’s as dumb with it, as corny about it as Wilson. They give him shit for it. Sam is too hopped up on finding his first love to care.
It’s easy to forget why they’re there and what they’re working toward. Graduating. Deployment. War. 
Afghanistan is a long way from Lackland Air Force Base, Texas. But with every day, every training course completed, Sam Wilson closes that gap with flying colors. And eventually, in May of that year, he found himself in Nevada with the 58th Rescue Squadron. Impossibly, closer now to Afghanistan. 
There, he’s given a maroon beret and dubbed a “Guardian Angel”. Small consolation prizes for the news he’s being deployed. 
2004.
It’s hot in Afghanistan, he’s heard. Sam had never expected it to be so bad; it’s summer, everywhere’s hot in the summer. The hottest place on earth is the Lut Desert in Iran. Barren, sparsely vegetated, open scrub. 70.7 Celsius recorded. That’s about 160 Fahrenheit. But nowhere, not even the hottest place on earth, is as sweltering as Bagram Airfield in July. With fatigues stuck to his back with sweat, stomach coming up on ‘E’, split red knuckles being bandaged: 40 Celsius feels like 5,000 Kelvin. Dry heat with nowhere to go but through him. It adds ten pounds at least to the weight in his shoulders. 
Sam made one comment. Just one. But a scathing reply from his least favorite Squadron member was enough to unravel him. 
This is the land of your peoples, Wilson, stop bitchin’.
Sam flexes his fingers on his bouncing knees, sitting and waiting stoically; internally, he’s burning. 
When he enlisted just three years ago in a fervent bout of passion and patriotism, he didn’t anticipate the racist pieces of trailer park trash he’s supposed to call brothers. The amount of self-control it would take to not punch the asshole square in the jaw. The fucking heat.
Three years after waking up that fateful morning, turning on the news with Lisa taking calls non-stop, flames and smoke reflected in his brown eyes and he’s stuck waiting in a tent for disciplinary action. At least it’s reprieve from the merciless Afghanistan sun. 
The tent flaps rustle softly, heavy boots command Sam reflexively to stand at attention. It gets his knee to stop bouncing. It’s in his face when he sees you. The faltering expression in his eyes that he tries to hide behind a stone slate. You’re not his CO there to NJP him, he’s never seen you on the base and he’s sure he would’ve remembered your face had he, but the patch on your chest dominates him anyway. A stray bead of sweat tickles Sam’s temple underneath your blank stare. You’re not, but you look ten feet tall over him. He’s never been someone so easily intimidated, but you? You are formidable. 
He wonders which part of you gets to him the most.
It might be your impossibly straight posture, one that he could never fully get right much to the ire of his commanding officers. Or maybe it’s the sharpness to your eyes, dissecting him piece by piece before he even hears your voice. Or, it could be, that you’re really fucking hot. 
Christ, are you. 
But that last one might be skewed by the fact that he’s been on tour now for a couple of months and his girlfriend, not Lisa, now Kerry, has been giving him blue balls. Sending letters so salacious, they’ve found home in the john for everyone’s personal use. 
He’d remember you if he saw you. He’d never be able to forget. 
Another body entering the tent brings a breeze to save him from the downright oppressive warmth of your stare. A man, another Sam has never seen around, stands much more relaxed and close to your side. He’s tall and blonde and somehow pale even after hours spent in the sun. 
You look at him and smile. So nice and pretty without any trace of your previous hardness. 
“So, you’re Sam Wilson?” he asks with a hint of a smirk in his voice, “Heard a lot about you.” There’s laughter playing at both of your smiles and Sam’s fists instinctively clench. Are you making fun? He’s not in the mood. It’s hot and sticky, and he might be fighting down an embarrassing and painful semi. 
“Yes, sir.”
The man at your side laughs, digging his elbow into your side, “You hear that? He called me sir!” 
“Fuck off,” you roll your eyes, flicking his ear so hard it draws a hiss. The first words he hears spill from those lips, twisted now in a smirk, don’t match your silvery voice.  
Fuck off, so rough and yet said in dulcet tones with affection. 
Sam’s hot again when you step forward, away from your partner-- the breeze was only fleeting. Nowhere is as hot as in that tent on Bagram AFB, you, just five feet from him, hand held out with a soft smile to introduce yourself. Warm and sweet, but somehow it burns. 
God, he needs to get laid, like, yesterday. 
He didn’t even realize he shook your offered hand until he misses the feel of it as it slips from his own. “And this is Riley, he got dropped on his head as a baby,” straightening beside the man in question, Sam catches an all too short flash of white as you laugh. 
“So, what did he say?” Riley asks. At the quirk of Sam’s head to the side, he gestures to the wrapped right hand, “I mean everyone’s talking about it. You’re gonna be on latrine duty for weeks!”
“Riley,” you sigh, smacking his chest that shakes in laughter with the back of your hand. A comforting smile when you turn back to Sam, “We have business to do.” The file you hand him, which he had not noticed was in your hand until it was heavy in his, it changes everything. 
Why me? Sam doesn’t let the question slip past his tongue, but it’s there. 
You shrug, as if you’d heard him, “You’ve made quite the reputation for yourself, Sam Wilson.” A soothing smile, big and easy. Like the one you sent Riley. He’d like to see it his way again. 
And you’re not lying. 
9 months in Afghanistan and word carries of a PJ falling from the sky like some vengeful archangel of salvation, laying suppressing fire steady as breathing, healing hands flipping the bird at death. Sam Wilson, orphan boy from Harlem, amateur philosopher, provider of quality spank bank material, was made for this.  
The first time he sees it, Sam doesn’t know what the hell he’s looking at. 
Like a big black horseshoe crab, washed up dead on the shore, metal back shining slick with sea water. Three of them, laid out on a table in a hangar removed from the rest of the air base. Engineers rattle off all sorts of specs, some Sam understands, some he hasn’t the slightest idea the meaning of. He looks to his right, at you, then Riley. The pair of you, grinning at each other, bouncing on the balls of your feet like children. Always so lively with each other. Always overflowing with enthusiasm-- in each other, something you now extend to him. 
All happening so fast. Too fast. Sam’s queasy from the whiplash. 
A month ago, he’d only just gotten used to the cycle: Jump. Find cover. Fire back if need be. Don’t mind the blood. Do what he can. And if he can’t, say a prayer. Swallow his vomit. Back to camp. Brush his teeth. One. Twice. Rinse. Repeat. 
How did the saying go? ‘These Things We Do, That Others May Live’. Sam’s swallowed enough of his own vomit that the taste doesn’t even phase him anymore. Partially because he’s scrubbed his tongue raw and numb with toothpaste. 
Then, you and Riley ripped him from it. 
Bought him dinner in Kabul. Offered him a cold beer. Which, he hadn’t had one in a year and fuck if it wasn’t orgasmic on his tongue. You two wined and dined him, told him he was special, he was meant for more. Made him feel good. Reminded him he wasn’t just some cog, some tool in a war that was quickly losing support. That he had a chance to do something important. Christ, he was surprised there wasn’t a good old fashioned fuck at the end of it. He’d put out on the first date.  
EXO-7 Falcon. In a different life, I might’ve been a bird. He maintained a year out that jumps were everything. 
But wings? Actual wings?
It’s unbelievable. No. Fucking insane. He can’t fathom it. Not free-falling and convincing himself its as close to flying he’ll ever get, but actually flying without the disappointing fact that eventually he’ll have to pull the chord. 
It’s just a prototype, don’t blow your load too soon, you laugh, hand on his bicep, for now, we just get to ogle them looking all nice and pretty. 
He doesn’t have the balls to tell you he already has. In the showers. Numerous times. Your smile flashing behind his eyelids. 
It’s just a waiting game now for the prototypes to be approved. 
Sam finds his stride again, much quicker than the last, in this new routine. He suspects his easy adjustment has everything to do with you and Riley. PT at 0600. Showers at 0800. An emergency non Falcon rescue mission about two, three times a week. Chow together in the mess at 1730. Sometimes, the three of you eat MREs outside instead, watching the sunset like a bunch of cornballs. 
You guys talk a lot, typically always over a meal. And Sam, who usually speaks a mile a minute, is slowed and forced to take a breath. Between the three of you, the fight for air time is intense. 
Everything is learned and shared in that small circle of three, sometimes too much. 
In some sleepy Georgia town, five houses away from each other, you and Riley spent your entire childhoods not meeting until basic.
Kismet, Riley grinned between mouthfuls of a macaroni and chili MRE that he traded for. That green sucker had no idea what he was getting into with Riley’s chicken a la death. 
The pair of you, southern belles, you’d joked. Attended the same Sunday service, learned how to ride a bike on the same stretch of asphalt, enrolled in the same high school but different years. Riley lost his virginity to your older sister in the back of his dad’s wood paneled station wagon. You remember she complained about a cum stain on her favorite skirt around that same time. 
Too much? you ask with a widening smirk at Sam’s grimace.
The two of you are so close, Sam can only be grateful for how easily you’ve let him fall into place by your sides. As welcoming, as kind and as warm as you are, in those early years, Sam can’t help feel an outsider sometimes. 
You and Riley are so so close. 
He’s sure he’s only seen you guys separated by bathroom breaks and sleep. An inordinate amount of time side by side. Fond smiles come often and effortlessly. Only ever fully at-ease in each other’s vicinity. You’re left handed and Riley’s right handed and your elbows always knock when eating. Which seems purposeful because once, when Sam suggested you just switch your normal places at the table, he was met only with blank stares and shrugs. And when the three of you walk across the airfield together, Sam naturally has to fall back slightly because he’s pretty sure you and Riley are tethered together with an invisible string, footfalls in sync. Your right leg in time with his, strides equal. 
He’s not sure he’s met a pair of friends ever more suited to each other.  
So, are you guys, like, together? Sam asks Riley hesitantly one night when you’ve gone to speak with some other officers. The pair of them lay on their backs on the rocky ground, gazing up at the clear expanse of stars. The new addition to your little merry band of friends tries to appear casual when asking. But really, it’s been nagging at him for months now. 
It’s a valid question. 
You and Riley are almost abnormally close for two people that have only known each other for a couple of years. Sam’s never seen anyone, not even his disgustingly in love for 30 years parents, so attached. If he were honest, sometimes it’s scary. Uncomfortable. 
Mostly, because it’s never been defined. And Sam is, by nature, curious. 
Partly, because the things he thinks about you... well, he doubts Riley would appreciate him thinking about his significant other that way. Especially a friend thinking that way. 
Riley’s bellowing laugh draws angry hushes from surrounding PJs trying to sleep. He cackles so hard with hands clutching at his abdomen, he practically rolls.
You’ve got it bad, Wilson, is his only reply before getting up to go take a leak. 
2005. 
Euphoria. That’s the only word Sam can use to describe it. Like sex. Maybe, even better. Up there, in the clouds, where everyone below are just little black dots, his stomach lurches and flips and folds itself over and under. Actually flying, not free-falling and biding his time until he eventually must pull the chord. He’s shaky with it at first. Like a baby on fresh legs, wobbly and awkward. Even still, he’s fucking flying. 
Back on the ground, him and Riley gush with it. Joy. Freedom. Ecstasy. 
They talk a mile a minute, even though their burning lungs are screaming for them to just breathe. They brush off the medical staff urging them to put on oxygen masks for a few minutes. Can’t, Riley rejects it, too fucking wired. 
You’re up next, burning with the need to get yours too.  
It all moves so fast. Sam and Riley each in one of your ears, telling you how amazing it feels. How much you’re gonna love it. They watch, chests heaving, hands on hips, as you’re strapped in, take your place 50ft away and nod along to all of the instructions given. Giving you pointers like they’ve been doing this for years. You roll your eyes. The pricks only have an hour of experience each. Though, that’s an hour more than you have, so you listen despite your pride. 
You fail. And just as everything you do is, you fail brilliantly. 
Sam and Riley watch helplessly as you crumble in the clouds, tumbling in the wind, barreling towards the hard rock and sand beneath their boots. The limp wings thrash in the wind, punching sharp welts into your sides. Your blood curdling scream rips out above, echoing in the valley. They can see you scrambling, panicked brain searching for a fight or flight response. But you can’t do either. 
Can’t fly. 
Can’t fight the merciless pull of gravity. 
You get ahold of yourself long enough to pull the emergency chute at the lowest possible altitude. A heap of nylon lines and cloth on the ground, your impact striking up a cloud of dust. 
Their feet can’t move fast enough, rushing to your side, hearts in their stomachs and stomachs in their asses. 
Don’t fucking touch me! 
Riley’s hand that gently grabs your bicep swiftly retracts as if you’d burned him. You won’t let them help. You just lie there, forehead pressed into the sand, body shaking with adrenaline, pained wails vibrating behind your grit teeth. 
Silence except for the sick sound of your brokenness. 
More than the acid cuts on your palms and cheek. More than a cracked rib. More than the ugly smattering of red and purple that will appear on your torso later. You mourn what is lost in your failure. 
Back on the ground, you gush with it. Wrath. Anguish. Woe. 
Sam feels sick beside Riley. Watching you there is the hardest thing he’s ever done. He reminds himself of the careful routine. Don’t mind the blood. Do what he can. And if he can’t, say a prayer. Swallow his vomit. He remembers the taste now. 
The prognosis is: you are a no-fly zone. 
You barely hear the flurry of words thrown at you, in front of you, around corners when you’re not supposed to hear. Cracked rib. Major contusions to the trunk. Sprained wrist. Can’t handle it. Right side too weak. Six weeks recovery, then return to regular duty. Maybe, you can work on it in PT and try again in 6 months. Not likely. Third prototype destroyed. Only two Falcons. 
Weren’t supposed to hear that. 
The next few days are eerily quiet. Filled with silent tension, Sam and Riley sending worried glances your way, forcing down winces at your every labored movement. You’ve abruptly walked off at seemingly random points of conversation. You’ve lashed out at Riley when he tries to help a little too much, pushes back against your attitude a little too hard. You’ve retreated. No joking around, no smiling. They have, at least, the clemency to avoid any mention of the Falcon jetpacks in your presence. 
When they train, you avoid it like the plague. 
The crowds they draw. The hooting and hollering cheers of the other PJs as Sam and Riley defy all odds in the air. The time will come soon, for them to employ the EXO-7 Falcons in an actual rescue. You pray that you aren’t healed by the time the first mission comes. 
God, whomever, hears your pleas whispered into the tough canvas of your cot. 
Four weeks after your failed flight test, an Apache helicopter goes down in Taliban infested territory. You haven’t been cleared. 
Sam walks up on the Chinook, dressed for the first time in his full suit. It would feel so gratifying, had you not been standing there with Riley, heads bowed lowly in short whispers underneath the raucous whirring of the engine. 
You haven’t talked to Sam in more than a few words. Only Riley. You only really talk to Riley. Sam has walked in on an abruptly cut off conversation a few times now. Shut out. It burns at him in the middle of the night, keeps him from drifting off in much needed slumber. You and Riley are his people now. Confidants. Friends. Comrades. Family. He wants to be there for you both, but you don’t let him. Just, give her time, she’s upset, Riley had supplied a dejected looking Sam when you stormed away at his advance for the third time. 
Now, at his careful approach, you look up and force a tight smile across those lips he sees in his dreams. An awkward, heavy hand on his shoulder that makes his heart clench, Good luck, Wilson. 
He’ll still feel it burning through his fatigues hours later. 
When they successfully return with the entire crew safe and sound, the base is alive with celebration. A friendly football scrimmage is thrown together by Riley in amber skies of late afternoon, their focused play-calling set behind 50 cent blaring on the boombox. 
You’re noticeably absent. 
Sam stands outside of your barracks with his hands stuffed in his pockets, uncertain if you’ll even speak to him. You haven’t before. Why would you now? When everyone is happily relishing in something you can no longer be a part of. His boots scuff in the sand as he debates leaving. Letting you alone for the night to surely lament in your loss. 
“Shouldn’t you be out there kicking ass, superstar?”
Your face, a familiar smile there that he’s been desperate to see for weeks, evokes an overwhelming sense of guilt in his gut. It was you and Riley from the start. Always you and Riley. The two of you had recruited him. And now he’s taken your place and they’ve left you in the dust. 
His return smile comes out more like a grimace without his permission. 
The large tent, usually filled to the brim with airmen stacked atop of each other, is empty. Everyone’s either getting chow or at the makeshift field spectating or playing. It’s just you sitting on a makeshift bed on the ground, softly closing the book you were reading when he entered. Sam doesn’t think the two of you have actually ever been alone together. Not like this. No Riley, no one milling about in the background, no rescue mission. The closest thing might’ve been the first time you met. And even then, you hadn’t said anything to each other until Riley joined. 
“Honestly,” Sam swallows hard, shaking his head in what looks like a humorous gesture, but really, he’s trying to find his footing again. “How does Riley have so much energy?” 
You smile wider and his heart, it fucking aches. For you. 
Knees pulled up tightly to your chest, ignoring the sharp pangs in your ribs at the action, you tilt your head softly up at him, “It’s all sugar and tai chi.”
Sam nods, a ghost of a chuckle humming from his throat. He sits on the ground next to you, knees bent, forearms hung over them. Tries not to make the hitch in his breath known when your thighs brush against each other ever so lightly. 
“I’m sorry,” he croaks. 
You shake your head at the ground, sighing deeply in defeat-- as if it would magically ease the pressure in your temples. “I think I forgot, it’s so easy to forget. But I dunno, all this self-pity and for what? Because I don’t get a cool pair of wings?”
“You’re allowed to be upset,” his hand hovers over your back. Half afraid of hurting you, half afraid of you rejecting him. 
Eyes like the cosmos lift to his and you lean back to close the distance for him. The press of his palm over your shoulder is warm, his fingers flexing slightly in the contours of your back. Gooseflesh fanning out from where they indent your skin, hidden beneath the fabric of your shirt. 
“My last rescue op, that kid whose lower half was blown to shit?” Sam nods solemnly, he remembers. How could he not? “He couldn’t stop crying about how his girlfriend was gonna break up with his dickless ass. And then he broke into a whole other fit because he didn’t have an ass either,” you laugh humorlessly, “I’m alive and in one peice. I’ve got a sweet ass and a fucking elephant trunk of a dick swinging between my legs.” Sam snorts, can’t help the gap-toothed grin that makes his cheeks ache.
You pause, licking your lips. Sam’s got a smile is like the sun. All warm and bright. The way it feels to bask in it’s glow, a personal beach day, you don’t think you’ve ever been so content to just be looked at. 
“I guess, I just-,” brows furrow, struggling to find the words. “You spend months preparing for something, with your best friends, you’re all excited about it, mostly because you’re doing it together. Me. Riley. You. Demented three musketeers,” you smile sadly, a cracking phantom of a thing Sam has come to love. “And then it all goes to shit. So easily slips through your fingers.”
There are tears that you’ll never let fall, but you trust Sam enough to let him see the way your eyes shine with it. The glossy finish of your glum and how it paints you blue. 
“I’ve been with Riley since basic. Never been an op where I haven’t had his back and him mine.” 
You know. You know you’ll never fly again. No one’s said it outright, but they look at you like a kicked puppy enough for you to get it.
“Will you promise me something, Sam?”
Sam. Sam. Sam. He’s heard his name said a million times in a thousand different cadences, but never like that. Never so soft and honeyed and certain. All at the same fucking time. 
“Anything.”
“There are going to be ops for just the two of you that the rest of the unit, that I can’t go on. Will you look after Riley?” You’re so close, practically whispering. Sam could count your lashes if he wanted to. “I love him, but he’s a fucking idiot. Just doesn’t think sometimes.” 
Without question. Fervently. For you, “Absolutely.”
And you just listen to each other breathe. In and out. So steady and sure. Content in just the sweet sound of each other, living.
2007.
Hands, calloused from fast-roping down from a helo, splayed out on the contours of his shoulders. Hot and urgent, everywhere and nowhere at once. The emotion in them permeates through his skin-- flooding him, filling him to the brim. Had he always been so empty before? Or had that space always been carved out for your touch? Your eyes are above him, searching, pleading. Lashes fluttering down at his face. Lips falling open in soundless utterances, mouthpiece of the gods. Breathless. His ears are ringing, eyes blinking away that white hot blindness licking at the edges of his consciousness. You’re so beautiful there, rays of sun peeking out behind you, he might pass out.  
Wilson, can you hear me?  
And then a laugh. Loud and boisterous and Holy shit! You just got your world rocked! Riley beside you, his face a picture of delight, buzzing with adrenaline. 
Along with the rapid pops of gunfire and cracks of an AK returning, gentle jingling of hot casings hitting the ground, steady lines of communication running down the line of airmen, Wilson, I need you to confirm that you are okay.
He nods dumbly at your insistence. Remembering suddenly how to breathe when you grab him by the vest and yank him up off the ground. He’d been blown on his back by the sheer force of a screaming mortar impacting the earth nearby. Your smack on his helmet is enough to refocus him, and all attention is back on the vic, packing the wound, applying pressure. You radio in controlled and calm-- GSW to the leg and shoulder, hoist out exfil necessary, popping green smoke on our location. 
Helmand is hell. But you grin and bear it so well. 
Things have levelled out. The three of you adjust to yet another new routine; much remains the same. The months are filled with morning PT, showers, any and every conversation under the sun shared over chow, a game of Slapjack or Bullshit after the sun’s gone down. Standard combat search-and-rescue, thankfully, for your sake is unchanged. But you have to get used to watching Sam and Riley soar through the sky like it’s what they were born to do. You stick to field medicine when they become something altogether different than PJs. Though, they were never just PJs. And you pretend it doesn’t just ache the tiniest beat when they leave you behind for some confidential mission.
Being the failure is hell. You grin and bear it to keep the pain from spreading to them. 
Hours later he finds you pelting the metal floor of the HH-60 Pave Hawk with an unwavering jet stream of water, diluted blood dripping from the sides. 
“Any special plans for when you get home?” Sam watches your face as it remains focused on lazily hosing down any memory of a bleeding young Corporal laying slack in your helping hands from the bird.
Six weeks. His tour ends in six weeks. He plans on sleeping-- sleeping hard, sleeping in, sleeping around. Riley joked about Sam burying himself in alcohol and puss, ‘it’s a toss up which addicts anonymous circle he’ll end up in’. Sam laughed and cheered in good fun, but the scent of JP-8 stung his nostrils. You and Riley have three more months left in this tour. Sam doesn’t like to think about the fact that he’ll be home, smelling apple pie and boob sweat, and you’ll be stuck here, sniffing jet fuel; that’s the smell of freedom, airmen say. 
“Might take up yoga,” he quips. 
Your eyebrows raise slightly, lips spreading into an easy and knowing smile, “Bet you would, you horndog.” Yoga pants, nylon and lycra second skins that hold everything just so, are all the rage all of the sudden. 
Sam laughs, leaning against the side of the helicopter with a cheeky smirk. That smirk you know so well now after three years. You count on that smirk. Pray on it. How something so small can bring you so much comfort, impossible to say. 
“If you come to LA, I can take you to all the studios. You’d love it.” 
Sam Wilson’s always been a social butterfly. The lifeblood of every party. The guy that gets along with everyone. The funny, effortlessly cool guy. He thrives on meeting new people and cracking jokes. 
But really, if Sam could do anything when he gets home, it would just be to see you. And Riley, of course. He wants you to come to LA, go to a bar, hide in some corner and just talk. Like you always do. Except, in civvies and heavily lubricated. He’d wait that excruciating month and a half before you’re back stateside too. He’d wait, not so much as think about alcohol, if it meant the three of you could share that first cold one together. You and Riley, you’re family. The first he’s had in a long while. 
He can’t help himself. “Will you? Come to LA?”
You smile, so nice and pretty, big and easy, like the one you’d once reserved only for Riley. 
2008.
Hands, softened with shea and two months R&R, fisting the back of his shirt so tightly he fears the fabric might disintegrate. Feverish and needy, fingernails digging into his warm skin, leaving ardor shaped crescents in wake of their campaign to conquer his back. Scorched in the spots first touched, soothed by the soft sound of sliding skin. 
Panting. Clenching. Burning. 
Your eyes squeezed shut, tears pricking at the edges. Lashes, all 359 of them -- he’d counted -- fanning his cheeks. Sweet wetness. Trembling fire. Mouths, hot and urgent, moving against one another. Whiskey tongues, sliding together, worshipping every inch. Lips numb. Teeth clanging. Both chests heaving, humming with moans too gentle and too desperate. You’re so beautiful there, in a bar’s dark and dirty bathroom stall pressing chest, groin, thigh, and leg against him. 
Gushing with it: joy, freedom, ecstasy. Overwhelmed by what he swallows from that heavenly spout: wrath, anguish, woe. 
You’re so beautiful he might die-- without question, fervently, for you. 
2009. 
The world works in strange ways. People will pay a 1,000 USD for a mattress that perfectly shapes to the curves of their spines. Commercials demonstrate you can balance a wine glass and simultaneously jump like a giddy kid in a hotel room without any risk of stain-- and for good measure, in the event it does stain, some special formula ensures it’ll come right out. Such strange desires of men. Sam sighs into his pillow-- zero cost, no secret formula. Sand, his mattress covered in 1500 thread count egyptian cotton; rock, his feather pillow that corrects his posture; a heavy coat of dry heat, his comforting New Zealand sheep wool blanket. Riley snores soundly beside, drool dribbling from the right corner of his mouth, chest spluttering in his exhales-- his white noise machine. 
He’s never been more comfortable. And in strange ways, he’s glad to be back, just starting his second tour at twenty-seven now, another successful Falcon mission recorded with the capture of Khalid Khandil. 
Sam’s almost disgusted with himself. He’s so stupidly content to be there, in the middle of the Afghani desert, sleeping on the ground. As if it’s not a fucking war. 
Well, as the world turns. 
Do you ever think it’ll be over? you’ll ask one night, a whisper on his lips as soft as the dripping beside you. Never defined, never talked about, but most nights, when sleep evades you, you’ll slip from the barracks to the empty showers. And you’ll sigh in pleasure in time with the echoing splash of leaky faucets.
And Sam has to bite his lips from saying the words ‘God, I hope not’ into your neck. 
Stateside, he has a joke of a life. The year in between tours was almost unbearable. He’s supposed to call that land home? It feels more foreign to him now than Afghanistan. A place where people create mattresses with different settings on two sides for maximum comfort. 
Strangers see him in uniform and either say ‘thank you for your service’-- which always feels hollow-- or looking like they want to spit on him. Suffocating. He could only breathe the three times you visited him in Los Angeles and the five times he came to Virginia for you. Only felt comfortable there with his face in your thighs, heart and breast in his hand, lips in his teeth. 
Here, he has structure. Purpose. Brotherhood. You. In war, he’s important. He’s helping people, not in any misguided, easily skewed fight for freedom and self-righteousness. He’s actually helping people. ‘These Things We Do, That Others May Live’. It’s what PJs do. 
In Afghanistan, he gets to fucking fly. 
In the US, his wings are clipped and everything feels so dull in comparison. 
Eventually, it has to, he’ll murmur back to spare you from his terrible thoughts. You’re so soft and sweet under him, and Sam knows just how much this war tears you apart. 
The guilt that plagues you because not everyone can be saved, but everyone should be. You’ve said before that the PJ credo implies death yourself. ‘That Others May Live’. But you’re alive and so many have died beneath your palms despite best efforts. Those trained fingers that sometimes feel useless apart from bringing Sam to bliss.
If you knew how he truly felt, how even if he’s a good man he harbors such selfish thoughts, it would only hurt you more. 
So he keeps it to himself and kisses your worries away. Soft pecks at your eyes that never cry but are always on the brink; the tip of your nose that’s become immune to the overwhelming metallic scent of blood; the crease between your brows that screw together in torment; lips, that despite all of the above, smile for Riley and for him. 
He’ll hold you so tenderly with strong steady hands, that it’s easy to forget the two of you are pressed together in a shower stall. You seem to have a habit of getting into compromising positions in bathrooms with Sam. 
A soft moan of appreciation escapes your lips, just to see that charming gap-tooth grin it draws from him. A taste of his light. So wanting, so desperate for that warm glow that emanates from Sam Wilson, you peel the shirt from his back sticky with sweat. Fingers scrambling to run across the smooth, hot skin there, chasing that tranquil day at the beach that is him even in the middle of a goddamned war. Greedy hands draw silken lines down the length of Sam’s spine, smiling in his mouth at his shuddering. How he leans into your touch reflexively. 
You’re drawn tight against him, his arms snaking around the base of your back, your hips flush against his, heels digging into his hamstrings. So close you become almost indistinguishable from him, simply a heap of warm skin and desert camo bracing the shower walls. 
A single kiss, languid and saccharine, suddenly turned quick. Sam is urgent in unfastening your top, splaying it open to lay you bare and panting before him. Each snap undone, a breath more labored. Your own hands, fumbling for the belt at his waist, mourning the loss of kissed raw lips against you. Hurried, as if at any moment one of you will perish. And the other, having tasted a body so divine, would simply crumble into dust-- there could never be another that they craved the same. Disappear forever in this desert, to perhaps be stamped down by another set of lovers’ boots. Here, in the sand soaked with your blood, Sam’s sweat, Riley’s tears
A vow taken in the sighs of pleasure quieted by amorous mouths. 
If this war ever ends-- and he assured you that it will eventually-- you’ll tell Sam Wilson you love him. 
2010.
He’d wished for this, hadn’t he? 
To live in War. This ungodly, disorienting flurry of chaos that feigns a sense of order. Mayhem, no matter how many hours ripping apart his muscles to put them back in place in accordance with military regulation, how much firepower there is to decimate enemies. A messy, merciless machine, endless. Running on the energy expelled from eating-- young men chewed up and spat out, shoved back into the hungry mouth, and chewed and spat again. And again. An emulsified puddle of blood and sweat leaking from the bottom.  
This, is war. Not fucking in the showers, watching the sunset while playing cards, and trading MREs like it’s elementary school. 
Structure. Purpose. Brotherhood -- all of the things Sam craved. It all means jack shit once someone steps on an IED, the distinct crisp sound of AKs firing off, or staring an RPG straight in the eye. 
Sam can’t stop looking at the way the blood squeezes through his shaking fingers. Thick and scarlet and slippery, bubbling through the cracks, seeping into the lines of his skin. Unyielding to Sam’s hands desperately clasping at the ripped flesh, trying and failing to apply pressure to the wound. No matter how much pressure he applies, the blood persists. Gushing, oozing, turning black under his palms. Because it’s everywhere and he only has two hands. Why did God make man with only two hands? Why?
Come on, man!
It’s a pathetic sound, the way it rips from his throat, raw and pleading. His arms, trembling so hard they shake the body beneath him too. 
Sam removes one hand to pop a yellow smoke outside of the ditch he’d pulled them into, using his teeth to pull the pin from the canister. 
He’s whimpering, choking down the sobs he so desperately wants to let out, communicating in broken sentences through the radio. Deaf to the return chatter. 
His eyes refuse to leave his bloodstained hands when the Pave Hawk is hovering above, his team of six fast-roping down, quick and methodical in employing care under fire protocol. Four of them stationing themselves at a pole just outside of the ditch, laying suppressing fire. 
You’re there, he can feel you rushing forward with your pack already slung over and onto the ground at their sides. But Sam won’t look at you, can’t-- if he sees your face, he’ll lose it. 
Moving, but nothing feels like it’s by your own volition. Rather, muscle memory. Flipping up your NVG, your eyes flit over the scene fast, thinking, but not feeling. And somehow, you’re thankful you’re numb at the sight. 
You’ve never seen it quite so... he doesn’t look human. 
It was just supposed to be a standard op. A marine stepped on an IED, and no one had metal detectors so the normal PJ unit couldn’t land. They were supposed to fly in and out, barely even touch the ground. 
And it all got fucked. How had it gotten so fucked? 
Helpless. Nothing he could do. Like he was up there just to watch. Squint in the dark night for a body barreling towards the ground. So much like your first flight test. That sickness churning his gut. 
Sam. Sam. Sam! 
His eyes flit to meet yours wide and white in the dark and just can’t bear it. He careens over to the side, retching this morning’s powdered eggs ugly and loud. Emptied, body too spent, the sobs finally overtake him. 
Quickly, you cut open his top, pulling the tattered fabric from where it tangled up with his body. Your hands take up the spot where Sam’s once pressed, pulling out combat gauze with your teeth. Deperately packing until you run out of gauze. It does nothing. The white is quickly stained so red that it just resembles more mutilated strings of flesh. 
“Okay,” you breathe, but it does nothing to return the oxygen to your lungs, “okay we need to stabilize the wound, tourniquets”-- the wound, he’s more wound than whole-- “and I need someone on chest compressions.”
You’re met with stares. Seven red-rimmed eyes, just staring as the very fluid of his life drains from him, body going cold under your hands warm, soaked in his blood. The only thing holding him, all mangled chunks of burnt tissue, together is you. 
“But-”
“But what?” 
But, it was an RPG. So what? We’re fucking PJs, aren’t we? But, he’s lost too much blood. We’ll do a transfusion. But, he’s dead. 
“Just do it!”
No one has the heart to stop you.
You work over Riley’s corpse for the entire ride to the hospital. They have to rip you from him on arrival. Because he’s dead. And you’ve just spent an hour elbow deep in a mess of blood and guts that feel like your own, exhausting yourself-- keeping nothing alive but your own sanity. 
Riley’s a pair of boots, an M16, a helmet, and two shiny dog tags clenched in your fists.  
That’s it. 
The rest of him was put back together as best they could, shoved in a pine box shrouded in stars and stripes, and sent off to Georgia. He’ll be received by his parents, two little brothers, three nieces, and his dog. They’ll write about him in the paper, a hero he’ll be called-- when really, he was a dumbass that got dinked by a rocket. 
He’d enjoy the fame in your small town. 
Idiot. 
Dropped on his head as a baby. 
As you squeeze the dog tags hanging from his M16, so do you squeeze a tear from your eye. A warm thing running down your left cheek that feels just like Riley’s blood in your palm. 
Sam’s behind you, head bowed low, maroon beret in his hands. The amount of times he’s said sorry, some blubbery, some frustrated, some murmured in your hair, some screamed at you.
You’re both raw. 
Hands scrubbed with soap, but stained Riley red.
Those showers have been tainted now with the fresh memory of pink streams circling the drain. Where once you found yourself lost in lust, now, in misery. Riley in your hands disappearing into the pipes, into nothing forever. 
“My tour’s up in three months,” Sam watches you carefully as you release the silver tags imprinted with Riley’s information. You stand and face him, wiping away that traitorous tear. “I’m going to leave active duty.”
When he was twenty, and the world was bleeding fresh scarlet, he’d hardly imagined he’d be retiring at thirty. But twenty seems so far now, just as the aftermath of 9/11. Now, the blood has caked into a mountain of pain, dried brown. Revenge, and then some. 
He enlisted for patriotism, duty, selflessness. He stayed for you and Riley, for flying. 
He can’t stay anymore-- can’t see you die too.
"You’re retiring?” your cloudy stare, brows pulled together, eat at him, “Okay.”
Okay. Sam never tried to guess what you’d say, but ‘okay’ somehow seems like the only thing that would ever make sense on your lips. So soft and simple. You. Always supportive, always sure. 
You nod with a gentle smile, and while he doesn’t know where you’re headed-- somewhere that’s not Riley’s makeshift shrine-- Sam trails closely behind. Partially because he has more to say, but mostly, because he’s bound to you now. His chest is tethered to yours, feet instinctively falling in line. He heels, like a dog. For you. 
The barracks are empty for chow again. Neither of you are hungry. Meals are different without Riley.  
So familiar, the two of you sitting side by side on the ground, knees bent, forearms resting on them, thighs brushing. Alone together. 
Sam has ocean eyes. Warm brown eyes that look like the ocean. They’re still on you but they move. You’ve never noticed. How they swell and glimmer, so constant yet always in motion-- pure in how he allows himself to live so freely. Going with whatever flow his heart takes him: dropping out of college and enlisting; punching ignorant airmen; and giggling like a girl at the feeling of flying. Making promises you both know he has no control over. Kissing you in a bar because he can’t take the longing for a second more. Leaving the Air Force because it’s getting in the way of his light. Even if it means giving up flying. 
Sam slips his hand in yours, so warm and soft, his squeeze, a plea. 
“Come with me.”
You’ve never met a person who lives like him. 
You laugh, fondly. Sam Wilson is so earnest in almost everything he does. 
“Can’t.”
So tempting. You remember now, how close those words once were to falling from your tongue. I love you. It seems pointless to say now, he’s leaving, you’re staying. 
“Come on, don’t be a martyr.”
Like Riley, he says without ever needing to flex his vocal chords that way. 
Morbid as it may be, you’d be glad to die like Riley. He always believed in the cause more than either of you. He was dumb and goofy, but he truly believed in it. All of it. You’ve never been so bound by an unearthly force like that-- religion, ideology, patriotism. 
Must be nice, Riley mused, not having to answer to God. No, it really isn’t. It’s... lonely. You want to try your hand at it now. Might do you some good. You’re looking at another two years, or whenever your tour is up, alone now. Why not fuck around and find some higher power? God, the PJ creed, macaroni and chili MREs. You’ll figure it out. 
“Eventually, it has to end. Right?” It’s his own words. You knew he never believed them. And neither do you now, really. “So I’ll see you then.”
Or in a pine box. 
Ocean eyes are wet with his sorrow. You are so lovely. Love. He loves you. He thinks he might’ve loved you from the moment he first heard your velvet voice. Fuck off. So lovely. Sam kisses you, and the waves have come to drag you out to sea. If he could, he’d beg you to come home in his riptide. 
Wherever that is. 
2012.
A Goliath building with tall glass windows that turn sunbeams into rainbows with rows upon rows of fresh tulips surrounding. Brilliant yellows and oranges-- like poppy field sunsets in Afghanistan. In the center of the free world. So much meaning there now behind what it means to fight for freedom. No place knows it quite like this house of warriors. This is a place of healing. Of mending brains put in a blender, frozen in some eagle shaped mold, and then thawed out with guns in their hands and a burning vendetta to satisfy. 
Sam Wilson is thirty-one now, and remains a man of routine. 
He wakes to darkness. Unfolds himself from the tight ball he’d curled into at some point. On the floor. Again. Sam gives himself just five minutes to lay blinking at white walls painted 5 am blue, bleary eyed birds just starting up their morning songs. 
And then he’s up. His teeth are brushed, sneakers laced up, keys thrown into the pocket of his shorts. Sam runs along the Potomac with the familiar soft pink aura of dawn crawling along the horizon. Around the Washington Monument, past the Lincoln Memorial, down Pennsylvania Ave.
He feels so small among those giant monoliths of the land of the free. Not purple mountain majesties, but the marble Hill. 
Sometimes, he feels you and Riley running beside him, like all those years ago bright and early for 6 A.M. PT-- wearing ankle high socks, grey t-shirts with white wings splayed across the chest and those little navy shorts Riley complained crushed his balls. 
God, he misses Riley. 
He misses you too. 
In college, Sam was a philosophy major of all things. He studied questions of human nature while picking up ‘cerebral chicks’. 
A decade later, the questions he once pushed away have all come up again. It all seems so important now. 
When he closes his eyes he sees your smile, yes, but he sees fire and smoke too. Like the rubble of the Twin Towers, his memories of war are shrouded in destruction.  
Sartre said, Once you hear the details of victory, it is hard to distinguish it from defeat.
So much cost, tangible and not. Cities riddled with bullet holes and missile craters, conquered and hailed as a successful operation so long as it forces the Taliban back. Beautiful landscapes marred with IEDs and shrapnel which will make the Americans wish they never step foot in Afghanistan. Invisible things too, like a mass grave of men, women, and children-- some military, some civilian. Glass shards of minds, not broken, but cracked. 
Sam is bleeding. Veterans are bleeding. Everyone is bleeding. 
The puddle of blood and sweat at the bottom of that machine, fathomless. 
He ends up in D.C., staring up at that Goliath building with the scent of fresh spring tulips in his nostrils-- Department of Veterans Affairs. He needs help and he needs to help. Post-traumatic stress disorder is such a big name, and he never fully understands his meeting. What he does know: sleeplessness, irritability, paranoia, numbness, waking nightmares. 
Healing is a process, but Sam’s doing it now. Himself, through others. 
Things are getting better. 
He’ll never be completely whole, but the circle helps. ‘It’s a toss up which addicts anonymous circle he’ll end up in’, Riley joked. Sam laughs up at the sky, his dumbass friend was probably sporting a smug smirk wherever he is. 
This morning Sam is chipper, today is a good day. He smiles wide at the girl at the front desk; she’s pretty and shy and always tucks her hair behind her ear when he’s flirting. Sam  snags a classic glazed from the box of free donuts from Astro and it hangs from his mouth as he goes about setting up for a meeting. Unfolding chairs, he arranges them in a comforting position. In a circle, everyone is equal-- no one is alone or an outsider. 
And then he waits with a welcoming smile as everyone filters in. Some are regulars and he’ll exchange ‘how are you’s. Some are new and uncomfortable so he gestures to an open chair and says ‘Welcome’ with that beach day grin. Soothing, calm, comforting. 
Sam listens so well. 
For as much as he likes to talk, listening is sometimes better. He only speaks when he’s sure they’re done and comfortable, offering what has helped him best. 
Adjusting to civilian life is hard. No one expects how hard it truly is, because it’s never talked about it. They’re supposed to push themselves to the extremes of human experience and then come back as if any of that was normal. As if they didn’t just come from a war, that still persists. Even if by a different name, in a different place, against a different group, it persists. And no one ever tells them how hard it is to just sit there, surrounded by friends and family where you’re supposed to be happiest, and act like it’s not burning you from the inside out. 
But it’s important to remember the good things too, he’ll tell them. When the dark shadow threatens to swallow them up whole, there is always light. It’s important to know that and make sure they stay separate. 
Like Astro donuts and playing soul music all the time and showering without a dozen people next to you. And the freedom of getting to do whatever the hell they want. 
Sam tells them, if it makes them happy: do it. 
“You’ve made quite the reputation for yourself, Sam Wilson.”
He’s seeing you, looking just the same as the last. With that smile, that’s only his now-- nice and pretty, big and easy. You are beautiful, so beautiful Sam wonders how he’s survived so long without seeing it. 
His own smile falters when his ocean eyes travel from your face.
You are exactly the same, except, you’re missing a few pieces. 
Your left arm, which he expects to lead down to those calloused hands somehow impossibly soft, is cut off abruptly, cruelly, above the ghost of your elbow. The left hand, your dominant one, that he had known the comforting feel of on his shoulder, burning through the cloth of his uniform, gone. The hand that breathlessly trailed down his torso, tickling and seducing, leaving goosebumps in its wake, missing. 
He’ll ask another time. You’ll tell him of more casualties of war, this one visible, and of others invisible. 
But for now, he’s rushing at you, and it’s still not fast enough to quiet his screaming heart. He grabs you, doesn’t care if there are still people lingering from the end of the meeting, and really kisses you. And your right hand still finds its way to his torso. 
I love you, breathless. It was never pointless to say. 
No, the war is not over, maybe not even eventually, but you’re here in D.C. wrapped in his waves, alive. 
He’ll never be completely whole, but you get him damn near close to it. 
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okaybutlikeimagine · 5 years
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could you write something like this? max realizes that billy is gay and has a crush on steve,( the fight at byers happened few weeks ago.) so she drops hints that she supports him like drawing rainbows, wearing love wins/rainbow t-shirts or smth like this (its still80s) one day max finds billy crying in his room, she knows its not neil cuz hes not even home so she walks to him. he admits to her that he likes steve and max says finally he realized that an hugs him
Ohmydear yes okay i love Max and Billy bein cute, irritated, but supportive little siblings and will always write anything w/ them. So it sounds like we’re just goin’ w/ canon from Season 2 here, yeah??
So Max loves Billy a lot and i’ve talked about this before a couple times, but Max was w/ Billy through a LOT and saw Billy go through a lot and i just think that they’d be very connected. In their own way, of course. They’re not as giggly and smiley as Billy and El would be but they’re definitely close. He does her hair and cooks her dinner and taught her how to skateboard. They love each other and no one is ever ever gonna tell me otherwise. Those two kids have been through hell together, tell me they haven’t. They’ve dealt w/ so much and Billy himself talks about how they’re family and they just love each other. They’re siblings and they only want the best for each other, seriously. They’re both firecrackers sure, they bicker a LOT, but they’re siblings and Max has seen so much of Billy’s pain.
And after the fight and everything that happened at the Byers, Billy retreats into himself. He’s in his room whenever he’s home. He doesn’t even come outside to watch TV or lift weights. He sits in his room and he doesn’t play his music too loud and he barely looks at Max when they pass each other in the hall. He doesn’t talk to her on the way to school or even do so much as look at her.
And when they park once they get there, Billy stays. He sits in the car and he doesn’t make a move to leave. He turns the music off, turns the car off, and stays still.
The first time he does it, Max sits still with him. She waits for him to say something, looks at him with growing confusion on her face, until he turns to her with a glare and a “What’re you looking at? Go to school.” 
She scrunches her nose up and leaves the car.
It’s then that she notices Steve just about to get out of his car. She waves to him. He waves back.
Billy does this for a whole week before she realizes, really realizes, what Billy’s doing. Because he sits there and he huffs a bit and he looks in his rearview mirrors. Sometimes he shifts around, as if he’s keeping his eyes on something. And one day she’s sitting there, finishing up homework bc she knows Billy isn’t going to kick her out of the car, when Billy freezes. His whole body is tight with anticipation and Max looks over to wonder what’s wrong when Steve walks past the window. Billy tracks him all the way. HIs leg is bouncing and he’s trying to fist one of his pant legs but they’re too tight to do so.
Max realizes suddenly. She’s watched for the past few weeks, and even some time before that, where Billy gives Steve a hard time. Brushes up against him on their way out of school. Smiles widely at him during lunch. Waggles his tongue almost every time he sees him.
And now he’s so much more reserved. He still messes with Steve after school and during lunch, but never in the morning. He’s quiet and watchful and… upset in the morning.
But she doesn’t know what to do. She’s always suspected that Billy’s gay. He would smile a lot at boys on the Boardwalk back in San Diego. He’d laugh with them and give them soft touches on the shoulder and arm. As he got older they’d disappear for hours at a time and leave her to build sandcastles by herself on the beach.
But California was a different place. Southern California was all sun and warmth and softness. Lots and lots of people, too many to know everyone, too many to worry about anyone other than yourself and your friends. Sometimes Max misses it, but she knows it breaks Billy when he thinks about it. He gets real pissed when she talks about her new friends so she doesn’t anymore. She sees the way his eyes dim at the mention of her liking this place.
Being friendly with boys isn’t the same here as it was in San Diego. Max knows it. She hears the things they call Will just for being a little quieter than others. He doesn’t even give them any reason to call him that, they just yell it like they’re throwing rocks.
So Max wants to help Billy. She wants to give him support in whatever way she can but the thing is, he’s so closed off and distant and irritated and high strung and mad and she doesn’t really blame him.
So she does what she can. She asks her mom if she can buy shirts with more colors in them. Rainbow sleeves and stripes. A few rainbow hairpins. Her mom is ecstatic about it.
“Oh, these are going to look so pretty on you when you pin your hair back! Everyone can see that lovely face!”
Max scrunches her nose and sticks her tongue in her cheek.
But she starts wearing her new rainbow shirts. Her new hairpin. She smiles at him a bit more.
“That’s a lot of color for you.”
Max is kind of nervous about it, but she gives Billy a kind smile anyway.
“Yeah, just… trying something new. Rainbows are cool.”
He raises an eyebrow as he starts his car and begins to drive.
She makes a point to listen to different music. Elton John, Queen, Prince… She feels like she’s kind of on the nose but she just… she’s trying. Billy still ignores her and avoids her. Doesn’t talk to her more than he needs to and she worries about it.
Billy seems to notice after a while. He flicks the rainbow clip in her hair and pulls at her sleeve and blasts Queen on their drive to school while sneering at Max and asking if she has a crush on Freddie Mercury. As if he doesn’t tap his finger along to every song and as if he doesn’t eye the magazine covers that sport Freddie in the grocery store with very clear attraction. Overall, he’s a pest but he still doesn’t say much to her. But he does starts to smile a little when she smiles at him.
Except… one day when she skates home from the arcade, things change. Only Billy’s Camaro is in the driveway.
Max’s heart calms a bit. Billy’s nicer when they’re home alone. He flicks her ear and pulls her hair sometimes but he leaves her alone. Or he’ll play music for them to listen to. He always makes her dinner and sometimes he lets her help and it’s nice. She always looks forward to being home alone, so they can be friendly without the pretense of resentment.
“I’m home!” Max calls, closing the door behind her. Billy doesn’t call back, but he hasn’t in the last few weeks so she doesn’t really mind it.
On her way to her room she looks inside Billy’s room briefly to see…
“Billy?”
He’s sitting on his bed, knees drawn in, head in his hands, shaking slightly, hair ragged.
She walks in timidly, worried more than anything because as calm as Billy is when they’re home alone, he’s been so on edge recently. And he’s an emotional time bomb when he’s this upset. When he cries he screams and punches walls and kicks couches and slams doors. He’s shoved her on multiple occasions while he was crying and she tried to sneak into his room to help, so she just doesn’t anymore.
But… but he’s shaking and she’s been trying so hard and she can’t let this go. So she sits on his bed, scoots a little closer to him when he doesn’t throw a fit, and pulls her knees up to her chest too. They’ve both got their backs against the headboard, knees pulled up, feet together in front of them.
“Billy?” She tries again. He sniffles, pulling his head out of his hands and rubbing at his nose while he turns his face away. “Are you-?”
“I hate it here.”
Max’s heart falls. His voice is so broken.
“I hate it. Fuck this town.”
Max just sits there, staring at her socked feet, wriggling her toes out of nervousness.
“You’re so fucking lucky.”
Max looks up at him, but he’s still looking away.
“How?” She asks dumbly. His chuckles are sour.
“In every damn way. You get everything.”
She doesn’t know what to do. She decides sitting there and letting him talk might be the best idea. So he talks.
“You don’t have to fucking worry about all of this or… or freak out about Neil or Susan finding out who-what you are and you don’t have to fucking… you don’t have to deal with this bullshit. Fuck this.”
Her heart is beating bc this feels so personal. Like he’s finally about to admit it. Like he’s about to let Max in.
He’s sniffling, rubbing at his nose. It’s kinda gross but Max is gross when she cries too so she tries not to think about it too much.
“What’s wrong, Billy?”
Billy sighs out hard, thumping his head back against the headboard.
“Steve.”
Max’s heart is in her throat.
“What about Steve?”
Billy knocks his head back again.
“He’s… stupid. I hate him.”
Max huffs out a laugh and Billy knocks his shoulder into her.
“Seriously?” She asks.
“Yeah. He’s stupid and I hate his face because it’s so fucking pretty. It’s not fucking fair. It shouldn’t be legal.”
Max’s heart is speeding away from her. It always does this when Billy opens up to her.
“So you…? Hate Steve?”
Billy nods. “More than anything.”
“Because he’s pretty.”
“Yup.”
Max clears her throat.
“That kinda sounds like the opposite of hate.”
Billy sighs out again. “Fine. Fucking fine, smartass. I… I like him. He’s pretty and it makes me sick.”
Max feels red color her face because she’s so fucking happy to hear those words come out of his mouth.
“I think I am sick.” Billy mutters, but Max reaches out and hugs him. It’s the first hug she’s given him in months but she can’t help it. Her heart is beating wildly bc she feels so close to him and she’s so proud of him and she wants to help and-
“Took you long enough, you moron.”
Billy smacks the side of her head lightly but she just holds on tighter.
“Is this why you started dressing like the Gay Fairy threw up on you?”
“Shut up, I was trying to be supportive!”
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daybreak-delusion · 4 years
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Chapter 7
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Introduction: Whitney Goodwinson was planning on inheriting one of her deceased grandmother's properties, but not a little house off the coast of North Carolina.  As she struggles to meet new people, fix up her new property, deal with troublemaker JJ Maybank, and perfect her grandmother's infamous lemonade, she might just find that the Outer Banks has more to offer than it seems. 
Series Masterlist 
Previous Chapter
After the long walk home I took a shower, finally, and went straight to bed. It had been an excruciatingly long day and I was ready for some sleep. Thankfully the next morning I wasn’t awakened by the annoying sound of a lawnmower. I took a shower to clean off my sleep and changed into some shorts and a simple blouse. The one good thing about the humidity is that it was making my normally frizzy curly hair look normal. Back in my room after looking around at my mess, I decided that would be a cleaning day. I put on my headphones and shuffled my cleaning playlist and got to work. I started with my room, unpacking my bags, finally, and organizing my clothes in the closet. Then I moved to the bathroom, cleaning the mirrors, countertops, and disinfecting the shower and toilet with some cleaner I found in the kitchen. I spent three seconds debating whether or not to go into Grandmother’s room and then turned into the living room. I vacuumed, dusted, and disinfected some more. The kitchen was the worst, I kept sneezing from all of the dust when Fernando by ABBA came on. Oh my god, this was my song. I picked up a spoon and pretended to sing to my adoring fans. 
“There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando!” I was practically screaming by the time the chorus came on, dancing to the beat like a maniac. 
“They were shining there for you and me for liberty-” 
“Hey, sunshine!” yelled a voice from behind me. Screaming I turned around and saw JJ leaning against the back door frame. He was wearing the same tacky shorts as yesterday and a white t-shirt with some fishing company logo on it. 
“How long have you been standing there?” I said, taking off my headphones blush creeping on to my face. 
“Not long, I’m here to pick the lemons and just need to get a bag,” explained JJ walking towards the pantry getting a reusable bag out. 
“Oh right do you need any help?” 
“Oh no I’m good, wouldn't want to cut your little concert short.” 
“Ha, ha,” I laughed sarcastically, “be sure to bring them back, I’m thinking of trying Grandmother's lemonade recipe.” 
“Really?” he stopped before heading out the door giving me a quizzical look. 
“Yeah, I was thinking about making a batch for good measure.” 
“Well good luck with that, Vicky was really particular about the way she made her lemonade.” 
“Oh, I think I can handle a little lemonade.”
“If you say so, I’ll be in the greenhouse,” he said humming the chorus of Fernando on his way out the door.  When he left I shook off my embarrassment and I turned back to dusting the shelves. After a while, I realized how hungry I was. The only food that I’ve had was dinner last night with the Camerons and the only food in the house was some stale saltine crackers and beer, which was kinda concerning but I tried not to look too into it. One thing was for sure, I needed food. Like now. Thankfully just as I was about to try my luck with the saltines, JJ walked back in with a bag full of lemons. 
“I only got about 10 this batch but next week we should get about triple,” said JJ walking in through the back door. He placed the bag on the counter and reached into the fridge to grab a beer. 
“Thank you, also do you by any chance know of anywhere to eat?” 
“Um yeah my friend’s family owns a restaurant, it’s called The Wreck, they got great sandwiches. It’s about two miles into town.” 
“Sounds perfect, you want anything?” 
“Uh no, no I’m good just tell Kie I said hi,” he said taking a swing of his beer as he walked towards the back door. 
“Do you ever drink water?” I asked. 
“Not if I can help it sunshine,” he replied with a wink walking out the door. 
That boy was going to die of liver failure if he kept his drinking habits up. A problem he’d have to deal with. In the meantime I needed food. That’s how my search for transportation started. No way was I gonna ask for a ride from Rafe and I’m pretty sure JJ just materializes everywhere, so I had to either walk or find another way. 
Another thing I was oblivious too when I first arrived was the garage to the left of the house. Hopefully, Grandmother left a bike or even a skateboard for me. I walked the dirt path to the old little garage. It’s kinda how I imagined what the house would have looked like if I’m being honest. It was even more faded yellow then the house with a rusty white painted garage door. Cobwebs were everywhere. I was terrified that I would have to encounter the creatures that made them. I was half expecting the handle to fall off when I pulled the door up. It opened with an ear-piercing screech and a cloud of dust. When I stopped coughing my lungs out I saw it. A vintage yellow Volkswagen beetle with a rack on top for surfboards surrounded by at least 50 cardboard boxes. I just stared at it for a few seconds admiring the car. I’m not exactly an expert on automobiles or whatever, but something about vintage cars really got me going. On the left of the garage was a bulletin board with a couple of keys tacked to it labeled with different things. I found the one that said car and prayed that the thing would start. The outside of the car was covered in dust, but thankfully the inside was a little cleaner. The only problem was that the car was a stick. Now I haven't driven stick in two years. Grandmother always said any person with a brain could drive automatic, but it took a real driver to learn stick. It was a miracle the car started in the first place and all I had to do was pray I remembered how to drive it. 
I only stalled a couple of times in the beginning, but eventually got in the grove of changing the gears. As I drove I was hoping I was imagining it but people seemed to be looking at my car as if it were on fire. I’m pretty sure I would know if my car was on fire or not so I kept going. Eventually, I found the little restaurant and pulled into a parking spot. The Wreck was just preparing for rush hour when I walked in. The floor was worn by the many footsteps that had walked into this establishment. The walls were decorated with pictures that looked as old as the restaurant and stickers from different surf shops and fishing companies. What I noticed most of all was the salty and intoxicating smell of freshly made french fries. I was practically salivating when a girl about my age approached me. 
“Welcome to The Wreck, what can I get for you,” she said with a tired, but genuine smile. She had her dark curly hair tied up in a messy bun with an old gray headband keeping her flyaways out of her face and was wearing a dark green bikini top under her tank top with the logo of the restaurant on it. 
“Hi, I hear you guys got great sandwiches,” I replied. If my instincts were correct this girl was Kie, JJ’s friend. 
“Yeah, we got tuna, turkey, roast beef, and our specialty lobster.” 
“Do you actually have any vegetarian options?” 
“Oh, you’re a vegetarian? So am I!” she said with a little more energy in her voice. 
“Yeah have been for the past two years.” 
“Wow I started about three years ago and am trying to make the switch to veganism.” 
“Good for you!” 
“Thank you! Most of my friends make fun of me for it, but I just can't stand the thought of eating a living creature. Anyways just one vegetarian sandwich?” 
“Yes please and some fries as well, also I’m sorry if this is too weird to ask , but are you Kie by any chance?” 
“Uhh yeah how did you know that?” she replied giving me a look that said, “who is this weirdo and how does she know my name?” 
“Okay cool, I’m Whitney and your friend JJ works… I mean worked for my grandmother.” 
“Oh my god, no way your Vicky’s granddaughter of course!” she said the look she was giving me melting into a smile,” I knew I recognized your car from somewhere, your grandma would come in here every Sunday for brunch, there gotta be a picture of her on the wall if you wanna look. She was such a sweet lady. JJ mentioned that you were in town I don’t know why I didn’t put that together and you had dinner with Sarah’s family yesterday right?”  
“Yeah I did, she has an interesting family.”
“God tell me about it, her brother is a piece of work.” 
It seemed like everyone had some kind of beef with Rafe.
“I had to spend the afternoon with him yesterday and it was excruciating. Thankfully JJ saved me.” 
“He saved you? Usually he’s the one to get people in trouble.” 
“Yeah I heard something like that, but so far he’s proven his usefulness.”
“Well I’m glad he hasn't screwed you over yet,” she said noticing the lunch rush was about to start, “So just the sandwich and fries?” 
“Yeah and just whatever JJ usually gets, he’s over working right now and I figure I’d get him something to consume that wasn't a cheap beer and make it to go please.” 
“Alrighty then a vegetarian sandwich with a side of fries and a The Barrel Roll Burger coming right up. That’ll be $15.25.” 
I pulled out a twenty and put the change into the jar when she was looking the other way. While a man, who I assumed was Kie’s father, was making my order I looked at all of the old photographs and stickers on the wall. I failed to find any of Grandmother but a newer looking polaroid stood out to me. It was of a group of teenagers sitting around a table in the restaurant. I recognized Kie, Sarah, and JJ with two other handsome looking boys. Geez what was in the water on this island, everyone seemed to be incredibly attractive. JJ was shoving some sort of food in Kie’s face while Sarah and one of the boys were pretending to make out, I assumed it was her boyfriend John B, while the other boy just looked straight into the camera like he was on The Office or something. They all looked happy and seemed to be enjoying their afternoon. I couldn't help but notice how close Kie and JJ were and a twinge of jealousy sparked in my stomach. 
“Order up Whitney!” called Kie with a brown bag in her hand. 
“Thank you!” I replied, “You have no idea how hungry I am.” 
“Well come by anytime, we got the best food on the island,” she said with a smile. 
“I sure will, thanks again!” I said walking out the door and towards my car.
a/n: So yeah apparently Whitney gets turned on by cars. Anyways thank you so much for reading! I absolutely LOVE writing and although sometimes it gets frustrating or I start to doubt wether I should continue or not I just keep going because I love it. Next chapter will be up Wednesday so stay tuned! Thanks again! 
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popculturebuffet · 4 years
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Close Enough Reviews: Skate Dad
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Josh tries to bond with his daughter through the art of skateboarding but ends up upstaged by a younger skateboarder with abs for days. Also Teddy Ruxpin begs for death but death won’t come. Since I don’t have as much to jaw jack about since this episode is on it’s own and I already reviewed i’ts pairing brother, full reveiw’s under the cut. 
We open with a cold open gag divorced from everything else.. a first for this show as even the Turn Down for what bit in “Logans Run’d” help set up Candace being gone for the weekend. But yeah it’s the bit from the trailer of Josh, Bridgette and Alex getting ready for a concert only for the other two to drop Josh off because he has no free time and just wanted to pretend. Also josh drinks a Glowstick. So majestic. 
In the main plot we start with something I can relate to: a small child watching youtube videos while ignoring the world around her. Having two nieces, 9 and 6, I can relate so hard it hurts. Josh fails to get her to pay attention to him and tries getting them to do something they can do together by reliving his childhood. Again, easily relate to this. Things go poorly as TeddY Ruxpin bursts into flames and tape hilarously and Candace is throughly unintrested in simon and a magic 8 ball. Josh is understandably depressed, Teddy begs for death but death wont’ come, their gag not mine and Emily comes in with Josh’s old skateboard.. which actually DOES get Candace’s attention. Josh naturally latches onto this and decides to teach her out to skate.  The group go to a skate shop and Josh relates his own experince going.. while leaving out the fact his dad was a total asshole who rather than go into the grungy skateshop with his son and be present just went back to the car and pointed at his watch. Which he apparently did so much a later bit in the episode shows josh’s photo of him is just that. It’s some nice character stuff: like I hoped the show would it explains WHY Candance isn’t spending whole weekends with her grandpa: Josh likely dosen’t want to subject her to the same crap he went through and it shows why josh is trying so hard to connect with her: besides just generally being a good dad HE Never had a dad who wanted to do anything with him and wants to be better.  The skate shop they end up in though is more apple store, to the point Candace wonders if their in one, as their greeted by an employee and then the store’s owner the Gooch, a modern skater whose a totally nice guy actually, offering artensially crafted skateboards, a nice gag and impressing Emily and Candace, while Josh is understandably jealous and paranoid about being upstaged by the guy. Candace picks hers which is satanrific... which is not only great but it’s made even funnier by Emily only being horrified by it because it’s 100%, with Gooch offering the above one of his abs. Finding the dark lord satan more approraite than some dude’s john oliver level shredded pecs, Josh goes with the satan one.  The Ramierz’s head to the skate park, and in order to one up Gooch who candace now clearly idolizes, Josh attempts to show her an Ollie and instead wangs himself in the balls iwth the board bad to everyone but his families laughter. Also we get a great visual gag of the paramedics skating the gurney up the ramp when they go to fetch josh.  Back at the house Josh is depressed about not being able to teach his daughter and is in a wheelchair, having an iron plate put over his crotch due to his injuries because of course he has. The crew REALLY seem to love the fact they can now do nutshots huh? I don’t blame them given they probably couldn’t on regular show, which I find weird given you can do jokes about eating feces, even if you don’t show it, as loud house has horrifingly shown us, but not someone getting hit in the balls. I just find it a WEIRD double standard. 
Anyways Josh lets the pain pills takes him away and has a nice dream of being a skate dad and something I like about this show is it really uses the animation well and plays with it more than regular show did. Regular Show did so too, it just didn’t do it nearly as much and the animation bump for this series is fairly easy to see. Probably helps Close Enough has an episode order for the season closer to say steven universe, so there’s more room in the budget to make the standard stuff look gorgeous. 
Back at the plot, Josh wakes up to find himself in the car some time, days or weeks later. Turns out Emily signed Candance up for lessons with the Gooch, and Josh takes it about as well as you’d expect and gets even more insned when the gooch innocently starts acting fatherly to her. It’s decent character stuff; Josh isn’t NORMALLY this crazy jealous or possesive, at least so far, but it’s understandable to be upset when someone else is being fatherly to your kid and doing things YOU want to be doing with them. Candance calling him papa gooch causes Josh to flip out, amble up and angrily rant at the nice man with the 6 pack before challening him to a bombing run, which I had no idea what that was and is basically what candace started with: Riding down an inciline while body riding the board.  Naturally Josh is worried about his chances but refuses to admit it, Emily is wondering what the shit has gotten into her husband and Candace, being candace, starts street bombing down the incline with her parents and gooch in persuit. Josh is still being a dick but eventually realizes how much of one he’s being when he points at his watch and instead of just being defensive and mean, is honest with the goosh and politley asks him to let Josh take care of this himself. Goosh relates to that as his own dad never took him skating and he took it up to spite him, the two now have mutal respect and goosh wooshes out. What a legend. Anyways JOsh and emily speed after her, and end up on the same board holding Candace, and we get the bit from the pitch trailer of josh grinding on his nuts and josh saves the day, and wins the familys respect and brings Goosh to tears... what a man what a man what a mighty good man, say it again lord!
Final Thoughts: Another more standard episode, this one is eleveated a bit by josh’s character stuff.. it’s just a bit thiner than Emily’s stuff at the open house a few episode back or in the following episode as Josh comes off as kind of a bit too dickish before the end as Goosh is really just nice. I know it’s the point but it’s still hard to watch. Overall it’s still another great episode and a joy to watch. It’s also getting me to notice a trend of the episodes, at least so far we’ll see as we go, opening with the weaker of the two and closing with the stronger one. No episode’s been outright bad but with the six so far the second ones’ have been the standouts while the first ones are just the series standard quality. It also is the first episode without Alex or Bridgette in it as even other episodes without them so far have still had token apperances and the lack of Jason is felt.. but it somehow didn’t hurt this episode and it felt understandable given they really had nothing to add.  This was a short one, I have more to go, until we meet again later days. 
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kissygrayson · 4 years
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LANDSLIDE: Chapter Four - The Birthday Present.
... in which Y/N and Harry fall in love at University.
series masterlist
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Y/N fumbled with the laptop in front of her. She was currently sat on the sofa in the living room, her laptop open on a website filled with skateboards and sneakers, her eyes scanning the screen to find something her younger brother Issac may like. He was turning 14 at the weekend, her parents had planned him a huge birthday party on the beach - even tho it was early September.
She groaned closing the laptop over. This was hopeless, everything Issac loved she couldn’t seem to find anywhere. He was into skateboarding, comic books, music, everything she could easily find but everything he already had. Deciding on leaving the laptop behind and going to the mall, she quickly flung on some joggers and an oversized hoodie, while having the idea to send Harry a quick text.
y/n: hey, you busy?
harry: just got finished with class so no, everything okay?
y/n: u wanna help me find a bday present for my brother, i would love u forever :)
harry: i’m down! i’ll pick u up in 10!
10 minutes had passed and Y/N was now stood at the steps leading up to her flat. She checked her phone a million times to see if Harry had left any messages to say where he was at, but she knew him and knew he wouldn’t text and drive. A car horn beep pulled her from her thoughts.
“Y/N” She heard Harry call from a car across the street.
“Hey, thank you for coming” She smiled while getting into the passenger seat of the car. Harry gave her a smile. Y/N took her phone from her bag then connecting it to Harry’s car.
“Make yourself at home” he joked with a smirk, he liked that she was comfortable around him. Y/N smiled back, Fleetwood Mac then blasting throughout Harry’s car.
“You are perfect!” Harry laughed.
Y/N rolled her eyes “I know Harry, I know. It’s really hard sometimes. But you’d know more than anyone” she flirted back.
Harry shook his head with a huge smile. She had to stop before he fell in love with her.
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They had arrived at the mall after parking and finding the nearest bathroom because Harry swears he was going to burst. They then went on the search for a birthday present.
“So, what does he like?” Harry asked. She had told Harry a few things about her siblings. Like Issac had fallen off his skateboard a few months ago and broke his elbow, Oscar seen Issac's cast and wanted to be just like him, so he tried to do the same thing. Y/N then had two younger brothers with broken elbows.
“He’s big into skateboarding, but I don’t know he has so many” Y/N said her thoughts trailing off to the thousands of skateboards that sat in her garage.
“Let’s go in here” Harry said pointing to a small record store. He remembered Y/N said he liked music.
Y/N’s eyes lit up when she stepped inside. Rows and rows of her favorite bands and singers albums laid in front of her. She spotted a small section of The Beatles vinyls, alongside it were The Clash and a few older bands she knew Issac loved. Harry had wandered over to the other side of the store looking at the record players, trying to find the perfect one for her.
Y/N approached Harry. Her hands stacked with vinyls. The Beatles caught Harry’s eye.
“He likes The Beatles?” He asked. Seriously could this girl be any more perfect he thought to himself.
“Loves them, but also all this stuff too” She laughed pointing down to The Smiths, Nirvana, Elton John and Queen albums in her hands.
“I think he’s my new best friend” He joked. “This one is pretty decent, Zayn has it back at the flat” He then said pointing to a white record player at a decent price. Y/N nodded gesturing for Harry to get it from the shelf.
After paying for their items and going into a few more stores but having no luck finding anything else they came across the vans store. Y/N dragged Harry inside after spotting the shoes Issac had wanted for ages, nowhere in Italy selling them. She got his size and a gift card for him to get some back to school goodies and they headed to the next store.
“Are you getting anything else?” Harry asked as they awkwardly stood in the middle of the mall not knowing where to go next.
“I mean I’ll take a look in the skate shop on the way out, but I’m not sure. Maybe come to Topshop with me so I can get something nice for the party?” She asked with a sweet smile feeling bad she had been dragging the boy around all afternoon. Harry nodded the pair walking across the mall to Topshop.
“This is cute” Harry said pointing to a green patterned dress. Y/N held back a laugh.
“I can't tell if you’re joking or not” She stuttered not wanting to offend the boy. Harry let out a loud laugh starling some people in the store.
“You’re so cute” he said putting an arm around her shoulders and smiling down at her. Y/N laughed hitting his hand.
“I really hate you”
.
.
.
They had finally gotten everything they needed, now stood in the last store where Harry wanted to buy a new pair of boots. Y/N had successfully gotten Issac a present, as well as a birthday card and a few things for her youngest brother so he didn’t feel left out. Harry had sneakily bought a skateboard for the birthday boy leaving Y/N in shock and admiration. Harry had never meet Issac nor had he spoken to him, but he felt like he needed to get him a little something just because, why not!
“Harry?” the pair heard a female voice say from behind them. Harry quickly put his head down recognizing exactly who it was.
“Someone’s calling for you?” Y/N said confused. Harry muttered for her to be quiet and keep her head down, the pair focused on the boots in front of them.
“Harry, I know you can hear me silly” the person laughed getting closer. Harry sucked in a breath mentally praying to god before turning around.
“Sophie, hey” He said finally letting out the breath. Y/N’s eyes widened at the mention of his exes name.
“What are you doing here?” She asked, looking the girl beside Harry up and down. Trying to keep her nasty comments at bay.
Harry gave her a fake smile then lifting his bags a little “Shopping. We should get going tho, right Y/N/N?” He said looking at the other girl. Y/N nodded quickly noticing how uncomfortable Harry was.
“Y/N/N, do I know you?” Sophie asked, jealously lacing her voice.
“I don’t think so” She said. “Also, It’s Y/N” She quickly added, not wanting the girl to call her by that nickname. Harry tried to hide the smirk that crept on his face.  
“Sophie!” A loud voice echoed throughout the shoe store. She rolled her eyes in response. She really wanted to stay and grill Harry’s new girl.
“Bye Sophie” Harry smiled awkwardly leaving the store and a jealous Sophie behind.
“Well, she seems lovely!” Y/N joked. Harry shook his head laughing as they made their way back to the car.
.
.
.
“Thank you for today” Y/N smiled as Harry pulled up at her flat. He looked at her, a huge smile on his face.
“We should do it again soon” He said.
Y/N smirked “Are you asking me on a date Harry?”
Harry let out a laugh, his cheeks turning a little red. She really had a hold over him.
He tipped his head to the side, a silly smile on his face. “Well, would you go on a date with me Y/N?” He asked
“Let me think about it” She smiled back before saying “I’m joking. Of course I’d love too”
“Cool” He said.
“Cool” Y/N repeated back. “Well I should go, gotta get ready for my flight tomorrow”
She unclipped the seat belt, grabbing her belongings while Harry helped her take them to her front door.
“I’ll see you in a few days” She smiled.
“Can I just do something for a second?” Harry boldly asked. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion but she nodded anyway.
Harry leaned forward, a hand coming up to caress her cheek, his lips then coming up to meet hers. Y/N leaned into his touch, the pair sharing a kiss outside her front door.
Harry pulled back, the smile on his face as big as the sun in the sky. Y/N’s the same.
“Goodnight Y/N/N. Have a safe flight tomorrow” He said pressing a kiss to her forehead. Y/N gave him a small wave as he made his back down the stairs and back to his car.
Today was definitely a good day.
.
taglist : @vinylhazza @cryinabtharvey
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sluttyten · 5 years
Text
anywhere with you
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summary: you visit your childhood best friend Johnny in Seoul for his birthday, and after years apart, the reunion is certainly one to remember
words: 6,468
pairing: Johnny x Reader
tags/warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, smut
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In the last five years, you’d seen your best friend face-to-face only twice. Johnny was important, you understood that. He was always busy and he lived in another country on the other side of the globe, but you missed him. Texting him, hearing his voice (phone calls, NCT’s songs, videos posted by the group, his radio show), the brief occasions when you FaceTimed him just weren’t enough.
You wanted to see Johnny again, make fun of him to his face, be able to hug him and lean on him, so you decided to surprise him by flying over for a few days to spend his birthday with him.
“Did you get smaller?” Johnny asks when he picks you up at the airport. He’s leaning against a car, watching as you haul your suitcase and two extra bags over toward him.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” You tell him, nearly tripping when the wheel of your suitcase gets caught on a crack in the sidewalk. 
Johnny grins and walks forward to help, tugging the bag from your shoulder, plucking the suitcase from your hand, and he guides you toward his car. 
“So you’re here now. What are we doing?” Johnny stuffs your luggage into the trunk of his car, and points to the passenger seat. 
“It’s your birthday I’m here for. Whatever you want to do.” You stand in front of him and look up, squinting against the sunlight. “I think you’ve gotten taller since I last saw you.” You stare at him for a moment longer, trying to pinpoint what it is that’s changed about him. 
“And hotter, right?” He reaches out, and before you have the chance to protest, Johnny’s dragging you in for a hug, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. 
“I’ve missed you.” His words are muffled in your hair, his arms are warm and strong around you, and as you tuck your face against his shoulder, you’re reminded of feelings you’d entirely forgotten about from years and years before.
10 years old, playing video games with Johnny, trying not to knock kneed with him because what if he could tell you liked him through that simple touch? 11 years old and you fell off Johnny’s skateboard and scratched your arms and legs, and you cried and Johnny held you and told you it was okay to cry as long as you got back up again.
That crushed persisted for years, until you were fifteen and had your first kiss at a party with a boy who laughed at the dare and stole that kiss from you in an instant. You’d walked home with Johnny that night and he told you all about the girl who kissed him and how nice she smelled. That night you’d decided that having a crush on Johnny was futile. He obviously didn’t see you that way, and it would be for the best if you moved on. He had his eyes set on being a K-pop star anyway, you were sure he’d forget al about you.
But now here you were, nine years later. The crush surging back, full force.
You squirm and drop out of Johnny’s arms. “I missed you too,” you tell him, avoiding his gaze. “It’s cold out here, let’s go.”
Johnny cranks the heat as soon as you’re both settled in the car, the radio is low, just a dull murmur of voices reporting on stories that you can’t even fully hear, and he pulls out of the spot. You take a look around the car, noticing how the passenger side floor is totally clean, but when you glance into the back, there’s a gym bag, the contents of which appears to be scattered across the back seat, phone chargers, a camera bag, an umbrella, something that looks like a blanket. A few half-empty plastic bottles roll around on the floor.
“Hey, don’t look back there!” Johnny laughs, touching your arm so you look around again. “It’s a mess. I usually just throw stuff back there after practice. Taeyong’s always telling me to clean it up.”
“He’s not wrong.” You finally look around at him again, and you immediately have to shove down those annoying romantic feelings again. You forgot how Johnny looks when he drives, and it’s no different here than it was in Chicago. He drives with confidence, one hand on the wheel, staring forward with focus.
In short, he looks hot when he’s driving.
“So what did you bring me for my birthday?” Johnny asks suddenly.
“Am I not a good enough present for you? A spontaneous trip to come see my best friend for more than the five minutes we’ve managed over the last few years.”
Johnny rolls his eyes at you. “It’s been more than five minutes. I introduced you to the guys when you came to New York to see us. Remember, you had tons of time with me, but you spent most of it flirting with Yuta.”
“You know I like guys with piercings.”
His grip on the steering wheel tightens, you watch the way his knuckles go a little white. “Speaking of guys with piercings, are you still dating that guy?”
Only a month before, you’d been FaceTiming Johnny when your boyfriend came over. You’d tried introducing them, but when your boyfriend was overcome with jealousy, you’d regrettably ended the call with Johnny. And yes, that boyfriend did have several piercings, but not even that fact could have kept you together.
“I broke up with him like a week after that.” You tell Johnny. “He was always jealous over nothing. Especially when I would talk to you.”
“So you’re single? All ready to flirt with Yuta when I take you home with me?”
“I am, but maybe I have a new target this time.”
Johnny doesn’t say anything in response to that, but you think you notice a change in him, a tense set to his shoulders that doesn’t fade even as he starts pointing out places to you while he drives.
You talk in the passenger seat, updating him on the mundanity of your life for a bit before you start asking him about what’s going on with him.
“We just had those concerts. Right now we’ve got a little break for Chinese New Year.” He shrugs. “Practice, practice, practice all hours of the day and night.”
But the deeper you dig, the more Johnny talks, the more he opens up and soon it’s just like old times. Driving around with no destination in mind, watching the sunset burn over the city. You don’t care about stopping, just letting Johnny take you wherever, and finally he pulls to a stop in a parking lot, overlooking the river.
“Remember how we used to go to Navy Pier?” The words are out of you before you even really think about it. “That time we rode the Ferris wheel and you threw up because you were scared?”
Johnny laughs and leans his seat back a little bit. “I wasn’t scared! I’d eaten too much and the car thing was rocking too much. What about that time we went there with that group and I found you kissing that kid. He was in the band? He had glasses?”
“Oh God, please forget about that.” You cover your eyes and laugh, unable to face Johnny as the memories play in your mind.
You were pressed against the warm wall of a building, giggling a little as the guy you liked put his hands under your shirt, just touching your waist, and he kissed you. It was nice and felt risky because there were people walking by and it was almost dark out. You’d just started to reach for him, to touch him too, when you heard a voice call your name in surprise. Johnny stood a few feet away, looking at your crush’s hand under your shirt, your lip gloss smeared a little.
It was embarrassing having been caught by Johnny, and you spent the rest of that night internally panicking because Johnny saw you doing that and what if it made things weird, what if he started finally looking at you like someone who could be kissed, what if he looked at you and started wondering what it would be like if he kissed you? And then you’d imagined for a while that it had been Johnny kissing you against that wall and the idea was nice, but you’d pushed it away because you didn’t have a crush on Johnny, not anymore.
And in the present moment, in Johnny’s car, you found yourself distractedly staring at his lips again.
“I told you I got hotter.” Johnny catches your eye, and when he runs his hand through his hair, he holds the pose and turns toward you making an expression that looks totally silly, but your heart skips a few beats faster.
“You look the same to me. The same John Suh who I’ve always known.” You laugh, and watch as the expression slides off Johnny’s face a little before catching and turning into a smile. Deciding to change the subject, you tease, “So what are we doing? Just sitting in a car, watching the river? I knew you would show me fun things to do in Seoul.”
“Do you remember that drive-in we used to go to?” Johnny asks, leaning back a bit more. “Remember that time someone snuck in beers and we got drunk? Well, I did, anyway.”
“You were tipsy at the most, Johnny. But I remember you making an ass of yourself, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He reaches over and pushes lightly at your shoulder, but then he doesn’t draw his hand away, he leaves it there on your shoulder. “I just meant, we had some fun times at the drive in, and there’s one around here we could go to, but they pretty much just show Korean movies, or we could relive old times and have our own drive-in right here. I have my laptop back there, we can watch any movie I’ve got downloaded.”
“Couldn’t we have just done this at your dorm or something?” You feel a smile growing on your face. The drive-in was one of your favorite memories with Johnny.
“It’s better here, trust me. Quieter, more private. At the dorm, some of them would want to watch too and interfere with my time with you.” He squeezes your shoulder. “Or are you too tired to do a movie? We could forget about it, grab some food instead? You probably want to sleep don’t you? I just didn’t even—“
As he slips his hand from your shoulder to reach for the key in the ignition, you grab his hand and immediately calm him.
“It’s fine. I slept on the plane, so I’m wide awake. But I am hungry. Don’t you have any food in that mess?” You gesture to the backseat with your free hand.
“Some snacks. Do you wanna do this?” Johnny asks, and when you nod, he grins. “Then get back there.
You scramble into the back seat, and Johnny gets out of the car and comes around to the back, too big to be able to pull himself into the backseat. He quickly gathers the clothes and things scattered across the seat and shoves them all into his gym bag which he stows on the floor, and then he squeezes in and shuts the door.
“Just a sec.” He digs around in the mess on the floor, and a moment later comes up with his laptop, a handful of snacks, and the blanket you’d noticed earlier.
Johnny sits the laptop on the center console, boots it up, and after a moment of scrolling, selects a movie. You scoot closer to him, and Johnny drapes the blanket over you, and you rest your head on his shoulder, swept into comfort by his scent which is only slightly different from how he used to smell.
“We’re not going to get in trouble for doing this here are we?” You ask while the movie starts up. “No cops are going to come knocking, telling us to stop loitering?”
“I don’t think so.” Johnny puts his arm around your shoulders, both of you snuggled warmly together under this blanket in the backseat of the car.
It’s not quite like a drive-in experience, but it’s nice. It’s special. It’s close enough to the old times when you and Johnny would act inseparable, when you would be all over each other to the point that everyone thought you were dating even when you were dating other people. It’s comfortable resting against Johnny, feeling the vibrations of his laugh and his voice when he talks over the movie.
You like the feel of his chest under your ear, the warm solidity of Johnny, the smell of his cologne, the comforting beating of his heart. You think you could do this a hundred thousand more times and always feel the same surge of happiness and safety. And you have to fight the urge to hold his hand or touch his hair, and worst of all is when you sit up once and Johnny laughs because your hair is messed up on one side and all you can do is stare at his pretty lips and wish you were kissing him.
You quickly grab a snack to preoccupy your hands and mouth to keep from doing something stupid like kissing your best friend and ruining a decades old friendship.
Johnny doesn’t seem to notice anything, he seems perfectly content with having you snuggled against him, like this is something you two still do all the time, and it makes you wonder if there is someone he still does this with. If he has a girlfriend or a fuckbuddy or if he does this with some of the guys.
Before you can even work out a way to ask him that, Johnny grabs your hand that is holding the last bite of a melting chocolate snack cake, and he pulls it up to his mouth.
Now, you’ve never really been the sort to swoon or to act affected by one simple gesture. But.
The moment Johnny’s lips close around your thumb, sucking the small bite of cake and the tip of your finger into his mouth, you just feel weak. Your insides are all quivering—heart pounding, ancient butterflies bursting into flight, and (dare you admit it?) you feel a zip of pleasure straight down to your core.
He sucks and licks over your finger, and you feel your world constricting, shrinking from the whole wide world down to just that car and even further down to your thumb in Johnny’s mouth.
“What was that?” You gasp when he releases your hand.
Johnny, looking slightly chastised or embarrassed, doesn’t look at you. “Sorry, I don’t know why I did that, it’s just that cake smelled really good and so do you and I wanted a taste. Of the cake! I wanted to taste the cake. I should’ve asked. Fuck. I’m sorry if that was weird. I should’ve asked, but I haven’t been so close with someone like this since... you know...”
“You’re not talking about before you left?” You push away from Johnny, sitting upright.
The movie is completely forgotten now as you stare at Johnny, at his surprisingly flushed cheeks, the nervous darting of his eyes, the small fleck of chocolate at the corner of his mouth.
“Johnny, do you mean you haven’t even like cuddled with someone since you lost your virginity?” You try to keep the incredulity out of your voice.
He groans and drops his head back. “You don’t have to say it like that! And no! That’s not what I’m talking about.”
You remember it exactly like that. You remember a party while a friend’s parents were out of town, of Johnny drinking a little and flirting a lot with the pretty girl who was still somewhat new, who Johnny had been flirting with for weeks. You remember most people stayed over at the house, sleeping on floors, on couches, some on the kitchen table. The lucky ones got beds.
You remember that the next day when people started leaving you waited around for Johnny. And then you saw him walking with the girl, holding her hand, a big ass hickey on her throat, and Johnny was glowing with pride. You remember watching as he kissed her cheek and then left her with her friends before he came over to you and you walked home together.
You remember him telling you that he’d had sex with her, that they cuddled afterwards, and it was pretty good. He was sure it would be better in the future when he was less inexperienced.
You remember it changed things between you for a little while. He didn’t seem to continue things with that girl, not that you really noticed. Johnny just spent a lot of time with you, and you were glad for that because he was leaving for good soon. Making the move to Korea. So you were glad for all that time you got to spend with him, barely a moment spent apart.
And now Johnny’s looking at you again, his hand is wrapped around your wrist still, and you try not to let your fingers twitch toward holding his skin too. But you can’t seem to pull your gaze away from his lips.
Slowly, Johnny begins to speak. “I always had a crush on you, you know? But I didn’t want to live a cliche or ruin anything, so I pretended that I didn’t. I kissed other girls, slept with other girls, moved to another a country. It didn’t help. I’ve never felt as comfortable and as happy about doing nothing as I’ve felt when I’m with you. Always. So many of my personal happy memories are with you.” When you open your mouth, looking like you’re about to argue, Johnny keeps talking. “Yeah, there’s successes with NCT, but those are group memories. They’re great. But then there’s you.”
You shake your head. This is too much.
You scoot away from him, putting your back against the door, giving yourself some distance as you feel the cool glass of the window radiating through you.
“I always thought there was like, some kind of tension between us. Maybe just sexual tension since we were teenagers with raging hormones. Maybe it was romantic feelings that we needed to explore. Maybe it was just my imagination, I don’t know, but I left without going into any of that and it never got resolved and now here we are and I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me. It was this spontaneous nudge to just... taste you.”
You feel a little foolish when hot tears burst into your eyes. Overwhelmed by emotions because is this really happening right now?
“Shit.” Johnny shifts and you feel the car rock. There’s a soft thump as the laptop slides off the console into one of the front seats.
And then Johnny’s kneeling in front of you and he reaches out but he doesn’t touch you. He watches a tear fall down your cheek, and you sigh and puff another breath that rises visibly between you since it’s so cold.
“I feel stupid.” You mumble after a moment.
You can see the thoughts running through Johnny’s mind. He’s worried, thinking that you feel stupid for not seeing this, for thinking he was just your friend when he’s had feelings for you this whole time. He’s thinking you regret this trip, this friendship.
“I’m stupid because I’m crying right now. Like what is this?” You wipe at your face and drag your palms against your thighs to dry them, but your face stings with cold now. “I’m not sad or anything like that. And I’m stupid because you just said all that stuff that I had no idea about.”
Johnny’s hand, which had been extended this whole time, finally falls to rest on your knee.
“I’m stupid because when we were ten years old, I was in love with you, but I talked myself out of it because I didn’t think you liked me, so at fifteen I moved on and started kissing other people. But now you’re sitting here in front of me telling me you’ve been crushing on me for forever, that you just involved yourself with other people because you thought that I didn’t like you, and it just turns out we’re both idiots and we’re living that cliche that you wanted to avoid.”
Johnny lifts his hand from your knee, and this time when he reaches for you, he doesn’t stop. He wipes at your cheeks, at the fresh warm tears.
“You know,” Johnny tells you, and his voice has gone so soft and quiet, gentle and low. “I’ve always wanted a birthday kiss from you.”
You nod a little bit. “Okay.”
Johnny leans in, his hand still cupping your cheek. This feels so juvenile, so innocent, to be together in the backseat of the car, about to have your first kiss together. Your palms are clammy.
The first press of his lips is sweet, chaste. Almost nothing and then gone. Almost like a test.
“I thought you said you wanted a taste of me?” You whisper, managing to tease him even when you’re this nervous. You feel like if he would just glance down a little, Johnny could see your nervous heart pounding in your chest.
The second press of his lips on yours is the kiss you’ve been craving. Warm and soft; his tongue sweeping along the seam of your lips; his hand cradling the back of your neck. You open your mouth for him with a little sigh, and Johnny moves closer to you, kissing you deeper, his hand moving down to your lower back, his other hand gripping your thigh, trying to pull you from the window into his lap.
You kiss hungrily, as if making up for all the years that have passed. Johnny’s hands roam your body, mapping out the shape of you, and you dig your fingers into his hair and pull yourself into his lap.
You can feel his boner, and it’s honestly not the first time you’ve felt his boner, but it’s the first time you’ve felt it and known that it was definitely for you. You smile into the kiss and hold him tighter. You don’t want this to stop even as the temperature in the car rises and the windows steam up and somewhere there’s music playing from the laptop’s speakers.
Johnny’s hands sneak between your bodies, moving to your chest, and feeling his hands on your chest pulls the first real moan from you. How many times had you dreamt of Johnny’s hands covering your breasts, warm fingers on your skin. 
“Take it off.” You tell him, and Johnny pulls his mouth away from where he was kissing your jaw. 
“Really?” His hands slide down to the hem of your sweater. 
You nod a yes. 
He pulls the sweater over your head, huffs with mild frustration when he sees the shirt you’re wearing underneath, and when he sees the tank top under that, he actually groans. You laugh and kiss his forehead, his cheek, kiss his lips again, and Johnny tugs the straps of the tank top down your arms, pushing the whole thing down to your waist.
His fingers are nimble and so warm as they move over your skin, searching for the clasp of your bra, and when they find it, you feel the sweet relief of your bra sliding off and then Johnny’s hands on your breasts. Bare skin on skin. You moan again.
“You like this?” He asks, thumbing over your nipples. “And if I--?”
The moment that Johnny leans down and licks over one of your nipples, you feel your panties soak through with a gush of arousal. He sucks on the peak, licks once again, and then kisses up your chest. 
“Are you really going to have sex with me for the first time in the backseat of your messy car?” You grip his shoulders, seating yourself higher in his lap, feeling the definite shape of his erection against you. Johnny’s hands slide down to your ass and he plants a kiss on your throat.
“Yes, I am. I should’ve done this years ago in the backseat of a different messy car.” He shifts and then your back is pressed to the seat, Johnny kneels between your legs, and checks with you first before he tugs your pants down, then your panties, and then slips the tank top that was bunched around your waist down your legs as well. 
The cold air tingles against your exposed skin, hot and cold meeting in a perfect storm, sparking goosebumps all over your body, your nipples standing out the most. You reach for the waistband of Johnny’s pants and tug. 
“It’s not fair that you’re still fully dressed. Come on,” You dip your fingers up under his shirt, run your fingertips over his stomach. “And also, for the record, I would not have let you take my virginity in the back seat of your car back then. You’d have done it properly. In a bed or something.”
Johnny smiles and whips his sweatshirt over his head, his shirt underneath following right after. He sinks down to cover your body with his, pressing chest-to-chest with you. “Have your standards lowered then since you’re desperate to have sex in the back of my car now?”
“Just tired of waiting.” You kiss him. “Now come on. I want to see your penis.” 
Johnny can’t help but laugh then, hiding his face against your shoulder and letting out this deep belly laugh. You feel his hands pushing yours out of the way, and then the drag of his jeans against your bare thighs. And then, the long awaited brush of his fingers against your clit.
“Oh, Johnny,” Your moan is almost more of a purr, and Johnny startles a little, like he wasn’t expecting that sound to come from you, or like he wasn’t expecting to find you so wet already. 
He mumbles something in Korean, and then he’s moving, sitting up again, moving you to sit up as well, then he’s maneuvering so he’s on his back on the seat, gazing up at you sitting over him like some moonlit goddess. 
“Please sit on my face.” Johnny’s fingers are on your thighs again, urging you forward. “I want to eat you out, this is the best way to do it.” 
You can’t argue with that, and you move forward, letting Johnny guide you a bit until you can feel his breath on your wet center. 
“Anything you want to tell me first?” Johnny asks, and you feel yourself growing wetter.
“Um, I love you?” You speak the words tentatively.
Johnny smiles and when he presses a kiss against your clit, your legs almost give out and sit you right down on his mouth. But they don’t you hold on just a bit, and Johnny laughs. “I meant like, is there any way that you really like it best? But I love you too.”
“Just go ahead. Go crazy. I’ll let you know if you’re doing it wrong.” You fit the fingers of one hand into his hair. 
He kisses your clit again, and this time you let yourself sink down onto his tongue, his lips, his hands supporting your ass and thighs. He licks over your center, tongue flattened, and you swear and look out the window. 
The park is quiet, not many people around since it’s cold and dark out, but the street lights cast pale circles of light, and Johnny’s car is parked just at the edge of one of them. A few other cars are parked in the lot, but they’re all at the other end, and as Johnny suddenly sucks on your clit and you cry out, you’re extremely grateful there are no other cars around. 
When he sticks his tongue inside you, licking at your walls, his nose against your clit, you have to throw your hand against the window to keep from crashing forward at the newfound pleasure. Your hand leaves a streak on the glass, drops of condensation trail down the window.
Johnny moans as he tastes you dripping down his tongue, smells your arousal, and feels you starting to move your hips, trying to ride his face for your own pleasure. He holds onto your hips, helping you move against his face, and soon you feel yourself peaking, pleasure washes over you, and you moan Johnny’s name, grinding down on his tongue as you orgasm. 
You fall backwards a bit, sitting on his chest. 
“That -- that was good.” You sit up again, giving Johnny room for him to move up, and then you settle again in his lap. His mouth and chin shine with your wetness. “Did you like that?” You ask, leaning in to wipe at his face, feeling the stickiness on your fingers. 
“You taste amazing.” Johnny drops his forehead against yours. “Do you want more?”
Draping your arms around his shoulders, you nod. “You think I’m going to settle with just having had your tongue inside me? I still haven’t seen your penis, Suh. And I want to feel it inside me.”
Johnny’s hands cup your ass and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Now? In the backseat of my dirty car? What kind of girl are you?”
You swat at his chest. “Just, come on. I’d be happy to wait and have you in a bed or at least somewhere more private than a car in a public parking lot. If you want, we could just wait til we’re at your dorm.”
“No way.” He kisses you again. “And I already told you, this is way more private than the dorm. Are you okay with riding me?” 
You nod. You’d be okay with anything at this point, you’re just so happy to have Johnny like this. 
When he reaches between you and undoes the button of his pants and slides the zipper down, he does so slowly, teasingly. You pinch his side and murmur a ‘hurry up!’ and Johnny laughs, pushes his jeans down his thighs, and then there’s his penis, tenting his boxer briefs. 
You smile up at him before you tease your finger along his clothed length. He’s hard and thick and just the perfect length. He makes a soft noise and it twitches under your touch, and you can’t stand not seeing it for a moment longer, so you reach inside, and draw his cock out through the opening in the front of his underwear. 
“Ohm a gosdf” is the sound that Johnny makes when he presses his mouth to your shoulder and you wrap your hand around his erection. You run your hand over him, testing the feel, testing to see his reaction as you lightly drag your fingernail from tip down to base. 
Johnny shudders and leans back against the seat, his eyes closed, his throat bare. 
“Kiss me.” He tells you, and you comply without a second of hesitation.
Kissing Johnny, you’re quickly learning, is the best feeling in the whole world. It’s familiar and new all at the same time, it’s safe and warm and comforting, radiating love into every part of you, reigniting those distant reaching feelings you’d long buried deep, but now you’re letting them thrive. 
So you kiss him and you touch him.
When you lift up on your knees and shift forward, Johnny puts a hand on your hip and pushes you back a little. He backs out of the kiss, but presses in again to kiss you a few more times before he regains control of himself and stops you for pushing down on his cock.
“I have a condom, hold on.” He ducks around you, reaching down to dig inside his gym bag, and he finally pulls out a foil square.
“Do I want to know why you just have that ready to go in your bag?” You ask, wiping at his glistening bottom lip as Johnny frowns down at the wrapper and tears it open. 
He kisses your cheek while he reaches down and rolls the condom down his dick. “It’s a precaution. The company passes out new condoms at the start of every month. They figure if we’re going to be having sex, they want to make sure we’re being safe. Some people have a bigger stockpile of condoms than others do. There. Now you can go.”
And in that moment, reality hits you.
You’re really there. You’re really sitting in Johnny’s lap, one orgasm down, at least one more to go, his lips are kissed pinker by you, and you’re about to take his cock for the first time. This is what you’d wanted for so long, and now here it is, right there for you.
“Are you okay?” Johnny asks, and then he’s touching your face, pushing your hair back behind your ears. “If you don’t want to do this, we really don’t have to. Whatever you want. Let’s stop. We can go eat, like I said.” 
“It’s fine. Sorry. Sorry, I was just thinking, like I’m really about to have sex with my best friend.” You slide your hand over one of his shoulders, feel his heartbeat under your hand, and your other hand you touch his hair, brush your thumb over his cheek. “I’m really happy right now.”
Johnny smiles and kisses you again, another sweet, chaste press of his lips on yours. “I had that moment earlier before, when you said ‘I love you.’”
You whisper it to him again then, and Johnny kisses you once more, and you cling to him, holding his mouth to yours as you reach down with the other hand and hold his cock for you to sink down on.
It’s a stretch, taking him inside you, but it’s a pleasant stretch, having him inside you for the first time. You don’t stop until you’ve taken him all in, and you hold there, getting used to that feeling. 
When he flexes his hips, pushing up into you, you start moving again.
Johnny’s mouth slips from yours, and he leans back to watch you move, delicious sounds leaving his lips along with your name. And he lets you control the pace, though you can see he wants it faster, but you want to draw it out some, make it last because you’re only here for three days, and you don’t know how many times you’re going to get to have him like this before you head home.
And you would gladly draw it out endlessly, riding Johnny until he cums for you, until your legs give out, until the sun rises. 
But a car pulls into the lot. The headlights sweep over the car, glaring through the steamed windows, and the other car pulls into a spot a few down from Johnny’s car.
“Oh, shit.” You laugh, sinking down on Johnny and pressing close to him. It’s probably obvious, even from the outside of the car what’s happening inside. The windows are completely fogged over, you’d felt the car moving a bit as you and Johnny moved, and through the window, you can see someone getting out of the other car.
Johnny flips you over onto your back, pressing you down into the seat, and you almost shriek in surprise, but you bite your lip and dig your nails into Johnny’s shoulders. He kisses your throat and starts rolling his hips against yours, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed. 
He pushes up after a few moments, glancing through the window, and you see his face highlighting in the artificial streetlights, misty from the damp windows. He looks so handsome and you tug him down as you rise up to meet him halfway for another kiss. 
There’s not much room, and you don’t even know how Johnny’s managing comfortably here in the backseat, but he keeps thrusting into you, driving his cock so deep inside you, you’re sure that you’ll still be feeling him a week later. And then he lifts one of your legs, pushing it toward your chest so he can hit a different angle inside you.
You reach up for something to hold onto, anything, as you feel your orgasm coming, and after your fingers slide through the condensation on the window, they catch on a cupholder on the door, and you hold tight, panting and moaning Johnny’s name as he fucks you right into your second orgasm.
Jolts of intensity soon have you crying out even more from the sensitivity, and you grip onto Johnny’s arms, feeling the muscles flexing under your touch, and you moan, “Cum for me. Cum inside me, please.” 
Johnny swears again, and he sinks down over you, sealing his lips over yours as he pushes into you a few more times before he goes still and you feel him flooding the condom with his hot cum. 
You stay like that for a few moments, kissing with him inside you.
Both of you are sweaty, pressed skin-to-skin, and you stroke the back of his neck and enjoy this feeling of being so close after so long. 
But eventually, the chill of the winter night outside begins to leak back in, nipping at your skin, and you shiver and feel Johnny shiver in response.
“We should get going.” He says then, pushing up off of you, and reaching once again into his gym bag. This time he pulls out a shirt and hands it to you. “You can clean up with this. It needs to be washed anyway.” He kneels back and you watch him carefully pull off the condom and tie it off, and part of you wants to press Johnny to the seat again and suck him clean, but another part of you is hungry and a little tired and definitely cold.
You pull your clothes back on with a little difficulty in the confined space. Johnny dresses too, and when you’re both sitting in the front seat again, he grabs your hand and holds it on the center console. 
“Best birthday present ever, by the way.” He puts the car into reverse and backs out of the spot, doing all of this one-handed. “Now, what should we eat before we go meet the guys?”
You squeeze his hand and look ahead at Seoul, all lit up around you, not so different from the home where you’d grown up with Johnny. 
“Anywhere as long as I’m with you.”
Johnny snorts a laugh. “That’s cheesy.”
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inspired in part by:  omg i finally had an dream about nct. i was sharing a moonpie cake with johnny and there was one bite left and i was holding it between my index finger and thumb and johnny straight up put it in his mouth and sucked on my thumb and it was so hot. is there are a specific kink for that? because sweetie, i got it.
a/n: I was originally going to have this Johnny coming home to Chicago, but it just made more sense for it to be you visiting him. and I was going to have it be wild sex in the car but it turned all romantic and stuff instead.
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