#no but it is so stupid. yesterday i was minding my own business scraping and leveling an area and the director of the excavation saw me and

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

gender roles are so fucking stupid. here at the excavation women usually do the scraping and more meticulous work as well as the cleaning of the material. and of course the men have to use the pickaxe and the shovel to dig big hole. i hate it.

#i do get assigned at traditionally female roles tho. i guess i'm the inclusivity quota or something #as always it's me and the gotls against the world #no but it is so stupid. yesterday i was minding my own business scraping and leveling an area and the director of the excavation saw me and #told me to go work in the big hole the guys were making #same today. #and i don't even do important stuff. i'm basically the garbage man. i just dump the spare soil in the dumpster and patiently wait besides #the wheelbarrow

[joelscurls]

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it,  never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core. 

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can. 

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.  

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel. 

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more. 

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has. 

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine. 

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.” 

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.” 

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do. 

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it. 

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you. 

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length. 

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay. 

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.” 

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket. 

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink. 

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale. 

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers. 

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week. 

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context. 

You shake your head, no. 

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort. 

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.  

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!” 

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch. 

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through. 

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket. 

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder. 

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late. 

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb. 

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street  hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest. 

“Why didn’t you say no?” 

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor. 

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin. 

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway. 

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern. 

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all. 

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait. 

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life. 

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand. 

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved. 

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up. 

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb. 

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers. 

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday. 

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer. 

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side. 

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down. 

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs. 

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now. 

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?” 

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.” 

“Why not?” 

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?” 

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat. 

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw. 

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep. 

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths. 

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs. 

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches. 

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to  let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.” 

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist. 

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life. 

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop. 

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel. 

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning. 

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

#joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction

[potatoes-is-are-food]

Demon Shit [Part 2]

I’m making this a whole ass series, we’re gonna call this the demon shit au or whatever, feel free to send in asks about it and stuff, and get ready for more parts!

| NSFW - no actual secs scene in this one

When you woke, you felt like you’d been hit by a train. You struggled to move, shifting a little and groaning. A light chuckle came from slightly above you and you pried your eyes open to look into Dabi’s cyan ones.

“Sore?” he teased, running his fingers through your hair. You gave him a look and he clasped his hand dramatically over his chest, “not the kicked puppy look, doll,” he pulled you close and inspected the bite on your neck, stroking along the marred skin carefully with his thumb before letting his hand rest on your shoulder.

“That doesn’t hurt anymore, right?” He asked, giving it a little tap. You craned your neck, reaching up to feel it yourself and finding only ridges like an old scar and not the gaping wound that it should be. You looked up at him, intrigued by the look of concern on his face, and shook your head.

“Good,” the corner of his mouth twitched up and he leaned in, placing a chaste kiss to your lips. You trailed your fingers lightly along his bare chest, skin catching on the metal of his staples.

“Do these hurt?” You asked, meeting his eyes again. He gave you an expression you couldn’t read.

“Yeah, but not to the touch,” he paused, “They’re sort of like a punishment. I’m not as nice to everyone as I am to you, little sacrifice,” he teased, half-smiling and planting another soft kiss to your forehead. You felt you shouldn’t press the matter, settling back into bed and burying your face in his chest.

He hummed, stroking your hair for a minute before giving your back a pat and detaching you from himself, standing and opening the curtains. The lighting outside hadn’t changed at all in the hours you’d spent in the house. He stretched, and your eyes moved across the taught muscles in his back and arms.

When he turned to face you again he materialized the same outfit he’d had on yesterday. He helped you stand, shaking a bit and clutching the soft, white bed sheet around your body. He sighed,

“Shit. Shouldn’t have ripped your dress,” he muttered, looking down at your little sheet-clad form.

“Can’t you make clothes?” You asked, giving the sleeve of his jacket a little tug. He shook his head,

“Nope. I can only do that to myself. Technically speaking they’re not real. And I can only do a couple things,” his hand curled under his chin, one finger tapping against his jaw. “It’s fine,” he said, ruffling your hair, “You just stay here for a bit and I’ll be right back, okay? Take another nap or bath or something.”

You shook your head, grasping his sleeve again tightly, “Don’t leave me here by myself,” you felt a lump form in your throat at the thought. This place wasn’t even real if your assumption of what a “pocket dimension” was was correct.

“It’s safe, sweetness,” he cooed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes as you pleaded with him with your expression. He tutted at you, giving your forehead a light flick.

“Less than an hour. Promise,” two fingers tilted your chin up as he leaned down, swiping his forked tongue along your lip and flicking it into your mouth when you opened for him, followed by his lips meeting yours. He groaned softly against you before pulling away, wiping away the strands of saliva that followed.

“Be right back,” he trailed his thumb down your cheek, planting one more brief kiss to your temple, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. You followed, opening the door to find him gone.

With a little shiver, you pulled the sheet up around you tighter, bunching up the material so it wouldn’t drag behind as you explored the house. You went down the stairs, wincing as several places on your abused body flared in pain, and padded through a little sitting room. The whole house was like a doll’s house, and everything downstairs seemed to be fake. The sinks didn’t work and the fridge didn’t open, and you quickly grew bored, deciding to take Dabi’s advice and have another bath.

Entering the room he’d ...had you in, you took in the sight of the disgusting bed.  The blankets were bunched in various places, shredded in others, and the whole thing had pools and specks of blood, sweat, and cum on it. Your sacrificial dress was in shreds in the corner. You awkwardly turned away, into the attached bathroom.

You dropped the sheet in front of the mirror as you gasped at your reflection. Your hair was a mess, and your body was covered in bruises and scratches, mostly hand-shaped or matching the spacing of his staples. You hadn’t even noticed them scraping along your skin, but they definitely had. The bite he’d left looked like an old scar. You noticed your lips were a little swollen, too, and not just the ones on your face.

Starting the bath, you tried to comb through your hair with your fingers and splashed a little cold water from the sink on your face. You sat on the edge of the tub, blankly staring into space. Was this a dream? You knew the witch meant business, she’d told you if you fucked up her ritual she’d kill you and she definitely meant it. You laughed in spite of yourself at the thought. You’d fucked up the ritual and then fucked her demon.

Lowering yourself into the hot water you sighed, stretching and letting it soothe your sore muscles. You wondered what it meant to be a sacrifice. What did he mean when he said he was going to “keep you”? There was too much to try to sift through, so you pushed it all to the back of your mind and decided it didn’t matter. He clearly didn’t have any intentions of killing you or he’d have done it. And at least some part of him seemed to care about you. Your face burned whenever you tried to place your own feelings, though.

What you thought was roughly half an hour later you heard movement in the house. Feeling shy you grabbed the sheet off the floor and pulled it over the top of the tub, covering most of the rim. The footsteps stopped outside the door and Dabi knocked, opening the door without waiting for a response.

“Got you something to wear, little sacrifice,” he held up a bag from a store you’d never heard of, setting it aside and crouching beside you, “What’s this for?” He trailed his finger under the sheet, raising a brow at you. You felt your cheeks heat up and sank further into the water. He chuckled, grabbing the sheet as he stood and holding it out for you to use as a towel, keeping his eyes on yours.

You begrudgingly stood, cold air making goosebumps raise on your skin. Dabi wrapped the sheet around you and helped you out of the tub, rubbing the fabric over you to dry you off.

“So shy,” he taunted, running a thumb along your cheek affectionately. “I know I fucked you stupid earlier but you remember me seeing you naked, right?” He crouched, bunching the sheet up and drying your legs. Eye level with your hips, he reached and gently dragged a finger along your puffy, still sore folds, making you whimper.

“Poor little thing,” he withdrew his hand, placing a brief kiss to your pussy that made your breath hitch before reaching for the bag and rustling through it and producing a white dress, similar to the one he’d ripped off you, “We’re doing another ritual. The dress isn’t necessary but it’s traditional and you looked so cute in the first one.”

You stepped in, using his shoulder for support, and he pulled the soft material up your body until it was settled in place. It was very similar to the first one, but made out of sturdier material. You shifted a little, squeezing your thighs together uncomfortably.

“Um, Dabi?” Your brows knitted together as you looked up at him. He hummed in response, shifting through a different shopping bag, “Could I have some other stuff to wear with this? Like under it? And shoes…?” You trailed off, trying not to sound ungrateful for what he’d already given you. He gave you a wink,

“I’ve got ya, doll,” he lifted your feet one at a time, guiding them through the lace panties, pulling them up around your hips and giving the waistband a little snap. You stepped into the stockings he held up next, his hands gliding up your legs as he fixed them for you, planting a soft kiss on each knee as he finished.

“Why are you dressing me and stuff?” The question came out quiet and nervous as he pulled the dress down to affix a bralette around your chest.

“I take good care of my things,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head as he fixed your sleeves back into place. He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a long black coat, draping it around your shoulders. Pulling out a pair of boots and helping you step in, he tied the laces for you as you spoke,

“What are you going to do with me? After we summon your friend?” You fidgeted with the hem of your dress, not looking directly at him as he stood, adjusting the coat on your shoulders.

“Sacrifices usually live in pocket dimensions like this one. Sometimes their demons will let them stay in what you’d call the real world, but they can’t visit as often like that so it’s not as popular,” he explained, tilting your chin up to look at him, “I’m going to keep you in a bigger pocket  and you’re going to live there. I’m also gonna use you to summon my friends and they’ll be able to visit you. You don’t have to do anything, just keep a couple demons happy for a few thousand years.”

Your eyes widened and his hand wrapped around your shoulders to stabilize you.

“Thousand?” You gasped, gripping his wrist and gaping up at him. He laughed, flicking your forehead as he’d done earlier,

“Yeah. Thousand. You’ll live as long as I do so probably another six thousand or so,” he pressed his lips to the spot he’d flicked, clearly amused at your shock, “So,” he continued nonchalantly, “Time to go.” His fingers threaded through yours as he pulled you out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

Once you stepped through the front door with him the pocket dimension was gone and you’d stepped into a busy street, struggling to keep up with Dabi’s fast pace as he dragged you behind him. You tugged on his hand to try to get him to slow down, but he just tugged back, making you stumble a little. Pulling you off to the side he lifted you onto his back, continuing down the street quickly, weaving through the crowds of people easily.

“What’s your friend’s name?” You asked, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Tomura,” he paused for a second, “he’s… not as used to people as I am. Women especially. Just, uh, be aware of that,” he finished, still sounding unsure of his words. You tensed a little and he rubbed his thumbs gently along your thighs as he supported them.

The streets became less crowded as he carried you, eventually setting you down and holding your hand as you maneuvered through desolate alleys. You came to what looked like the back door to a business and Dabi entered, pulling you in behind him before slamming the door shut and leaving you both in darkness.

#mha #bnha #dabi #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #my hero academia dabi #boku no hero academia dabi #demon shit

[sithsecrets]

sacrifice | din djarin x reader

stranded in the tatooine desert, din and his crewmember (lover? girlfriend?) must make the long, impossible journey back to mos espa on foot.

---

4.2k words

mentions: near-death experiences, severe sunburn, sever dehydration, emotional conversations with a loved one, reader and din are not doing well at all, lots of talking about sand and the desert, minor medical procedures (kind of??)

this is part 4 of my valentine’s week special! you can see all the other parts here!

---

The deserts of Tatooine are legendary, the sandy dunes and rocky canyons teeming with tales and myths. The Tuskens are a spectacle all their own, with their banthas and covered bodies, and there’s not one person on this planet that hasn’t had the displeasure of doing business with a Jawa. Countless greats have passed through this planet’s cities, negotiating deals and perpetrating plots that will have an affect on the galaxy for years to come.

To you, though, Tatooine is not some great, propped up location from a fairytale. No, this place is your home, or was your home until you made the decision to leave. You were born here, and now you will die here, sucking in the same hot, dry air you breathed on your first day of life as you take your final breath.

Din had promised that it would be a quick mission, in and out. Mando lets you call him that now, lets you call him by his first name. He whispered it to you just a few days ago, revealing this piece of his identity in the darkness of the Crest’s hull. What you wouldn’t give to be there now, cool and fed and sprawled out naked beside him…

Din had said it would be a quick mission, that’s what he said. Just you and him on a pair of speeders out in the desserts, in and out and easy. He needed you to watch his back, wanted you to do surveillance from up high— that’s why you came in the first place. Peli said she’d keep the baby, she was thrilled to have him for a day or two, and so it wasn’t a problem—

The baby, oh Maker… Who’s going to take care of the baby?

Things didn’t go to plan once you left the city, not at all. One speeder went dead halfway to Din’s coordinates, and so you the two of you were left with one vehicle. You made it alright, though your time was worse with both of you weighing down the machine.

It was hot out there, so hot, but you knew it would be that way. You had water in your pack, and some food, and you’d be fine. It was only supposed to be a day or two, right? And the suns would set eventually, and then you might even be cold...

Din made you perch high up on some rock, and you watched for hours through the binocs looking for the quarries. Two spice smugglers, that’s who Din’d been tasked with finding, and they were supposed to be stupid, too— that’s what Greef had said. “These two clowns are idiots.”

The two smugglers did come, and they were idiots as promised, but their friend was not. The third man found your lookout spot somehow, and he snuck up on you. Din was down in the sand, and before he had time to fly up and stop him, the man had already cut your side. It was meant to be a stab, but you avoided that, thank the stars. Even still, the wound was no minor scrape, and you panicked when you saw just how much blood was coming out of you.

Being who he is, it didn’t take Din long to subdue your attacker and the two quarries. He propped their bodies in a cave and said he’d come back for them with the ship later on, and you thought that was a fine idea at the time.

A bad feeling set in when you saw what had been done to you and Din’s singular speeder. One of the smugglers had disabled it while Din was busy murdering the man that hurt you, and now it lay useless in the sand. The crew of criminals had been riding on some kind of pack animals when the violence broke out, and all the commotion sent the three of them off in all directions. Din’s jetpack seemed like a viable option, but the instant he tried to pick you up, you screamed in pain. There was no way for him to hold you that didn’t hurt you terribly, and it’s not like you could latch onto his back. After that conversation, it took you and Din about five seconds to realize that you were fucked. And then… And then it was time to start walking.

The first day wasn’t bad, but it certainly wasn’t good either. The rationing of water began almost immediately, and you worried every time Din declined his share.

“You need it more,” he had said to you, “you’re hurt.”

And you were hurt. Your side smarted all the time, and the heat of the sun caked your own fluids to your skin. The bleeding did eventually stop, but the pain never subsided, and it wasn’t long before you were trailing behind.

When the suns set, it was time to stop walking and start shivering. Din made a small fire, and you did have an extra shirt, but none of it was enough with the damage you’d sustained earlier in the day. Sleep did come, but it was fitful, and you’re not sure Din so much as closed his eyes that night.

The heat came back with the dawn, and after several hours, it was all you could do to keep moving. Thirst burned your throat, and the dull ache of hunger twisted your insides. Din acted like he was fine, but you saw it. You saw the change in his gait, saw how his head drooped from time to time under the weight of exhaustion.

That second night, you insisted Din sleep while you took watch. It as hard to stay awake, and even harder to focus on looking for threats, but you did it anyway. You’d known many people who got lost in the dunes, heard more stories than you could count of what happens when you perish out in the sand. And as you sat there staring into the distance, you marveled at the idea that you yourself would soon come to experience these things yourself.

This will be your third day of walking, walking and walking and walking… You and Din have been making your way across the desert for hours now, and you’re growing more tired than you’ve ever been in your life. Gone is the ache in your stomach, gone is the burn in your throat— all you want now is rest, rest and reprieve from the sun’s relentless rays. Yesterday, you took to imagining yourself anywhere but here— tropical locations, the icy surface of Hoth, a planet where fresh, drinkable water fills every pond and lake and river— now, though, all you picture is rest. Oh, if you could just rest…

It takes you a long time to realize that you’ve fallen, longer than it should. You’re face down on the ground, sand filling your mouth, your nose… The granules aggravate the sunburn you’ve developed after days and days exposed to the elements, though you hardly even feel the sting as you lie there. It’s so good to stop walking, so good to close your eyes…

“Stay awake, cyar’ika. You can’t go to sleep, not right now.”

Din’s voice rouses you, it makes you pay attention again. He’s picking you up, he’s holding you in his arms—

“I don’t want to walk anymore, Din,” you say, voice cracked and broken. Once again, you think of water, but the thought is fleeting at best.

“You don’t have to,” he says at once. “I’ll carry you. We just have to get back, mesh’la, and then we’ll be okay.”

In some deep recess of your mind, you decide that Din’s saying this to comfort himself as well as you.

“You’ll get back to Mos Espa,” you croak, shaking your head. “This is— I’m not going to make it.”

“Yes, you are, cyar’ika, don’t talk like that.” Din spits the words out as if you’ve insulted him, half offended and half terrified and entirely unlike himself. Some small part of you wants to laugh— you’ve always wanted him to be freer with his emotions, and all it took was being marooned in the desert to get him to do it.

“You have to leave me, Din,” you insist, wriggling in his arms, trying to make him drop you. But Din holds fast, clamping down on your body like you’re all that tethers him to this world. And maybe you are, at this point. “I’m slowing you down. If neither of us gets back, we’ll— The baby, Din, the baby. You have to go back for the baby. You’re all he has, he’ll… he’ll…”

You want to cry, but your body has no tears to offer you. Through the fog in your mind, you picture the Child playing with Peli and her droids, waiting patiently for you and his father to return. The thought of how he’ll feel when the both of you never do is almost too much to bear, and you redouble your efforts, pleading.

“Leave me, Din, leave me here so you can go on. I’ve been slowing you down since the start, and now— The Child needs you. I’m not important, Din, but you’re his father. Just put me down and let me—”

“Stop talking,” Din cuts, exhaustion and frustration warping his broken voice. “Save you energy, mesh’la, we’re almost there.”

Except you aren’t, and you know that. But even still, you do as Din says, too tired to argue with him any further.

There is more walking, and more feeling the sun on your face, and then your eyes are slipping closed. Far off in the distance, Din is telling you to look at him, to stay awake but you just can’t anymore. It’s so hot, and you just want to sleep…

The last thing you see before you fall unconscious is the sun, bright and blinding and all-consuming above you.

---

No one is more surprised than you when you open your eyes again.

Beige is all you see in front of you, beige like the color of the dunes. For one fleeting moment, you think you’ve died, that this is all there is for someone who’s succumb to the desert— the sand has swallowed you whole, and now you’ll lie here under it for all of eternity. But then everything comes into focus, and the fog lifts from your mind. Sand dunes aren’t held up by supports, and they certainly don’t billow in the breeze.

A tent, you say to yourself, dizzy as you try to sit up, I’m in a tent.

Someone’s attended to your wound, bandages and dressings where dirt and blood should be on your side. It still smarts when you try to stand, but you find yourself stronger overall. Somehow, someway, you’ve been revived, and even your sunburn doesn’t seem as bad as you know that it should be when you reach up to touch your face.

Carpets keep the sand off, three or four strewn on the ground in a patchwork. You’ve been laid out to rest on some sort of makeshift bed as well, nothing more than couple of pads and a blanket under your back, and not for the first time do you wonder where you are. Not for the first time do you wonder where Din is…

Heat envelopes you the second you pull back the flaps of the tent, but the temperature isn’t as high as it was when you collapsed. Sure enough, one look at the horizon tells you that it’s sunset, the sky purple-orange-pink as Tatoonie’s twin suns sink down further and further.

All around you are tents just like the one you emerged from, simple, beige structures made of coarse, thick fabric. You begin weaving your way through the complex, too afraid to cry out and ask for help. In any case, you’re not sure it would help, for you feel eerily alone, almost like everything around you is empty. That’s why it’s such a shock when someone jerks on your arm, the action catching you so off-guard that you cry out.

Cold fear is all you feel when you come to face the man that grabbed you, the dark eyes of his mask almost boring into you as he shouts and kicks up a fuss. You wait to be hurt, wait to be struck down and murdered, for you know how the Tuskens feel about outsiders, but the violence never comes. No, the man is actually leading you further into the camp, pulling on your arm, gesturing to more tents and beyond. The sounds he makes mean nothing to you, but if you could understand, you’re sure you’d hear, “Come with me, come on!”

And what else can you do except follow the Raider? What other choice do you have? He leads you past three or four more dwellings, and then the two of you stand before a larger, grander tent, one that makes the others look almost tiny. The Tusken calls out to whoever’s inside before you can so much as catch your breath, and then you’re being jerked through the flaps without a word of warning.

The first thing you see is fire, the smoke from the little blaze escaping out of an opening in the top of a tent. Small lanterns light the space inside, everything bathed in a warm, orange glow. There are carpets on the ground just like in your tent, layers and layers of them keeping the sand off everyone inside. Several Tuskens sit around the fire, but you barely see them after you notice the way the light glints off someone else.

When you told Din to leave you, you meant it. The baby couldn’t be orphaned a second time, and the idea of both of you dying under the sun didn’t bear thinking about. But to know that he didn’t abandon you, that he really was going to carry you back to the city…

All conversation ceases the second Din gets up from the ground, and then it’s like the two of you are the only people in the whole fucking desert. He asks you if you’re alright, one hand on the side of your head as he murmurs through the modulator. You say yes and ask him the same thing, worried something happened after you went out of commission. He’s all armored and covered, face concealed like it has been since the moment you met him, and yet still you worry. You worry he fell down like you did, worry that he’s been sick from not eating and drinking. But if Din did collapse or become incapacitated for a period of time, none of it’s had any lasting effects. He tells you that he’s eaten and drunk plenty since the Tuskens saved both of you, urging you to stop fussing and come sit with him beside the fire.

Only when Din turns around do you remember that you have an audience, and you feel all eyes on you walk around the pit in the center of the room. You feel vulnerable before your hosts, keenly aware of the fact that you stand before them with your face and hair and hands bare. Thankfully, you’re not the only woman present, several veiled Tusken women dotting the circle of people. They’re beautiful in their own way, draped in beads, some of their masks ornately decorated with embroidery and mental embellishments. You know little of Tusken culture, but you think that this is a tent reserved for important members of this clan, for even most of the men have on small bits of finery.

Din keeps you close, uncharacteristically affectionate in front of these strangers. He holds your hand as he leads you to your place in the group, urges you to tuck up against his side by the fire, and you wonder why he’s showing you off so openly. He either trusts these Tuskens, which would be a bold move, or this whole ordeal’s shaken him badly. Either way, you’re not about to complain, relieved to be here with him at all. You really could have died out there in the sand, and the fact that you didn’t is still sort of blowing your mind.

The first thing you do when you get settled is express your gratitude to the Tuskens around you, thanking them sincerely for saving your life and treating your injuries. Din translates for you and the man who speaks next, and then you’re told one of the most incredible stories you’ve ever heard.

For the better part of half an hour, Din and the Tuskens tell you about how they slayed the great krayt dragon, working in tandem with a small group of villagers from the middle of nowhere. Din downplays his role in it all, but you know that he was the one who really took the beast down. That’s why the Tuskens consider him a friend in the first place, and it’s the only reason they saved the both of you— otherwise, they would have let you die, a fact they admit openly.

You reprimand Din for not telling you sooner because seriously, he slayed a krayt dragon and made an alliance with the fucking Tusken Raiders, but all he offers is a humble, almost embarrassed, “It never came up, mesh’la.”

All you can do is huff at that, amazed not for the first time by how casual Din is about everything he does.

After the story’s done, a woman comes into the tent with a tray of thing for you. Because of their customs, the Tuskens won’t eat in front of you, and it’s not like Din’s about to take of his helmet for a meal, but you’re served food regardless. Neither the meat nor the hubba gourds taste very good, but you couldn’t care less— after days without food or water, even the bitter juice tastes like fine wine.

Din and the Tuskens talk as you eat, everything they say completely lost on you as you sit before the fire. Outside, the suns continue to set until it’s dark, and you feel yourself growing tired. You’re not sure if it would be rude to fall asleep in front of the Tuskens, the fear of offending your saviors forcing you to keep your eyes open every time they droop shut. Eventually, though, they take pity on you, and you and Din are given the Tuskens’ blessing to leave.

Back in your own tent, you and Din kneel on the carpets before one another, a single lantern lighting the space above your heads. He looks almost ominous like this, the dim, warm light casting him into shadow while simultaneously glinting off all the angles of his armor. Once again, you find yourself astounded by the fact that the two of you made it, that you’re here in Tusken encampment instead of dead out there in the sand somewhere. More and more often these days so you wish you could see Din’s face, but once again, you just can’t bring yourself to ask for what you want.

“I know you’re tired,” he says, fishing around in your pack until he produces a small jar, “but you have to put more of this on your hands and your face before you go to sleep. That’s what the women told me.”

“Do it for me?” you ask, knowing just how childish you sound without caring one bit about it.

Miracle of miracles, you make the Mandalorian laugh. “You just want me to touch you,” he huffs, but he’s taking his gloves off anyway.

Everything is quiet for those first few minutes, Din bending to his work diligently. The salve in the jar isn’t bacta, but it soothes the burning and the itching almost like magic. And maybe it is some kind of Tusken sorcery. You should be covered in blisters and sores after so much time in but Din says your face is merely peeling when you ask how bad it is. You haven’t actually seen yourself yet, but the backs of your hands don’t lie, and anyway, why would he? The fact that you’re not in debilitating pain alone is enough to convince you that this stuff is a miracle cure, and you’d be content to put it on eight times a day for the next month if it means you won’t be disfigured by your sunburn.

“There,” Din declares softly, putting the lid back on the jar, and then the two of you are lying down on the little pallet bed together.

“Are you going to sleep?” you ask him, knowing how Din feels about resting when he’s not on the Crest.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, reaching out across the padding to hold your hand. “But you definitely should. The Tuskens are going to drop us off near the city tomorrow, and I still have to go back and collect the bodies.”

You’d nearly forgotten about that, about the quarries and how Din left their corpses sitting in the cave.

“We get the baby first, though. We said we’d be back days ago.”

You’re not one to make demands, but after all that’s happened, you need to hold the Child in your arms. You know for a fact that he misses Din, and you worry that he feels abandoned by the both of you after all this time apart.

“We get the baby first,” Din affirms, and only then do you feel like you can close your eyes.

---

Everything is hectic after you and Din finally make it back to Mos Espa. Peli wanted to know what happened, the baby wouldn’t stop clinging to either one of you, and then you still had to fly back out on the Crest and pick up the quarries…

All of that took hours, but now you’re finally back in the safety of hyperspace, your little family whole once again. The Child, after hours of holding fast to you and his father has decided that he’s tired now, dozing in his pram contentedly. You think it would be alright to leave him in the hull for a while, clicking the lid of the little bed shut before you climb up to the cockpit. Din, in his usual Din fashion, has been up here since takeoff, no doubt picking at the inner workings of his vambrace or studying one of those maps he loves so much.

You’re surprised to find Din unusually unoccupied when you make it up there, though, the dark T of his visor staring off in the blue streaks of light before him. For a moment, you think he might be sleeping, but that option’s crossed off the list the minute he turns to look at you.

“Everything alright?” you ask softly, coming around the pilot’s chair to sit beside him.

Din hums. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

A long moment of silence follows your question, everything so definitively quiet around you. It’s always like this in hyperspace, like the physics of sound don’t apply. You always feel like you need to whisper, half-expecting no noise to come out of your mouth whenever you do decide to talk. After all these months of living on the Crest, it’s the only thing you haven’t gotten used to.

“Don’t ever talk to me like that again.”

Din’s words catch you completely off-guard, the sentence striking you across the face as hard as any slap. He’s never spoken to you like that before, never told you not to question him or whatever the fuck he means by that. You don’t—

“I mean—” Din blurts, huffing through the modulator like he’s frustrated. “I mean, just— the way you spoke to me in the desert. The things you said. Don’t ever talk about yourself like that, not in front of me or anybody else.”

Everything clicks, but words fail you. All you can do is sit there before Din and stare at him, trying to find the words over and over again.

“When we were out there,” Din begins, filling the void when you cannot, “when you fell down and I picked you up, you told me to leave you, cyare. You wanted me to abandon you. You told me that you didn’t matter.”

“I wanted you to live,” you clarify. “Someone had to go back for the baby, and you’re his father. He needs you—”

“And he needs you too, mesh’la.” Din pauses, voice breaking when he goes to speak again. “I need you. So don’t ever ask me to do something like that again. You’re very important, more important than you know, and I don’t think I could handle hearing you talk to me like that again. Do you understand?”

You stand up to hug him, suddenly hit with the realization that you’re crying.

“I understand, Din.”

And then you’re holding each other like it’s all you know how to do— holding each other like you’re the only two people in the whole fucking galaxy.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #tw: near-death experience #cw: near-death experience #my writing #valentine's week 2021

[missinghan]

to my youth ⤖ lee felix

❖ genre : summer au; high school au; fluff

❖ word count : 11,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language, slow burn

❖ summary : it is official that life hates you because not only was your first few days of summer ruined by a stupid field trip, but things also got somewhat freaky… whatever kind of ‘freaky’ you’re thinking about.

❖ note : i know i said i’m ‘experimenting’ with new stuff but guess who’s back with another mediocre, not-that-well-written mess of a domestic au; please (kindly) yell at me to dabble into a new genre after bearing through this fic- happy reading!

one.

The echoes of your summer days remain as flowers immune to the winter chill, they say.

You’re not entirely sure who even fathomed their time and effort to come up with that statement but from your point of view, those flowers would most likely have either died out from the summer heat or withered horrendously because of the arbitrary showers of rain. Or you’re the only one who doesn’t have the luxury to see life through a rose-colored lens.

Because the first thing that comes to mind for you is the bucket of ice-cream and a YouTube OG that you’ve ceased to finish since finals started two weeks ago. The bell rings, pens down, everyone pours out of the classroom after handing in their exam papers. No one really bothers to check up on each other’s answers anymore; the last subject for today was AP Psych and you don’t know about them but you honestly can’t care any less thereafter cramming the entirety of five chapters. 

Sprinting down the staircase, you easily spot Felix amongst the midst of drowsy high school students for the bright color of his hair. He truly believes that if he slaps enough hair essence and coconut oil on his head four times a week, his hair won’t feel like straws when he changes it every other three weeks. But it’s only a matter of time before balding catches up to him, he’ll learn eventually.

“Please don’t tell me that you left your keys in class,” you sigh upon the sight of him fumbling with his folders and textbooks while trying to open his locker in vain. Just thinking about walking all the way back to the third floor makes you want to use your backpack as a pillow and take a nice nap in the middle of the hallway.

“Gee, Y/N,” Felix makes a face to not show the sense of relief washing over him when he locks eyes with you. “Who do you take me as? A clumsy person?”

“No, just a dumbass.” You coldly snatch a slipping book from his arms before turning to twist the disc in the combination of your birthday until the lock clicks, shaking the shackle off to swing his locker open. It’s a silent tradition that you both set each other’s birthday as your locker’s combination since elementary school; it started out as a stupid joke at first but neither of you really bothered to change it. 

“Why the hell would you put your keys in the locker?” you widen your eyes in disbelief as he grabs the bright yellow Spongebob plushie to collect his keys with a shit-eating grin

“My alarm didn’t go off today, so I was running a little late,” he defends himself while dumping everything out of his backpack, hugging an empty water bottle to his side. 

You throw a wave at a very tired Hyunjin walking side by side with Seungmin on his right and Jisung skipping happily towards your direction. Seungmin looks exceptionally moody today, you pray he didn’t mess up an easy question to take it out on all of you later in the car. “Bet you were staying up late to play Overwatch with Chan.” 

Felix manages to grin stiffly at your comment, turning on his heels and trudges onto the school’s parking lot. “Fine, walk home.” 

“Hey, you forgot to lock this!” you pull his steps into a halt by making a grab for his hand, utterly oblivious at how his cheeks flare up with a bright shade of red at your touch. Or out of embarrassment. Whatever, same thing. 

Felix might be a better driver than you, but he’d be fired ten seconds into the job of a babysitter.

With that being said, when Jeongin decides it’s a good idea to cheer a passive-aggressive, post-exams Seungmin up with a carton of strawberry milk and then proceeds to get lost in his own school, the very same school he’s been attending for who knows how long, you’re the one who manually pulls his ass back into Mrs. Lee’s Jeep within ten minutes. 

And Seungmin has already fallen asleep by the time Jeongin’s back, so now he’s the passive-aggressive one while sipping on the milk bitterly. Either way, this is why you headcount although there are only six of you after Changbin starts getting busy with his college applications. 

“What took you so long?” Jisung looks up from his phone the moment you climb into the passenger’s seat, clicking in your seatbelt (drive safe, kids). 

You immediately feel the need to snap a photo of Jeongin accidentally breaking the cafeteria’s door with the staff running towards him in a panic. They’re more scared for his life than the door itself and that’s… sweet to say the least but with the way that the embarrassed boy is glaring at you through the rear-view mirror, you decide to keep your lips sealed. 

“It’s getting dark so all hallways start to look the same, you genius.”

Jisung momentarily sticks his tongue out at you. “God, you’re so rude to me. You’d never talk to Felix like that.”

“Because,” you drawl. “Lix is a pure-hearted angel descended from the realms of Heaven. Whereas, even Lucifer would see you as an eyesore in hell.”

“See! You’re doing it again!” Jisung points a finger at you in accusation, jumping up and down in his seat but no one really cares. It’s not like you’re speaking any false facts. “Stop bullying me!”

Seungmin shifts his body a little, nose scrunched up at the noises that wake him right up. “Jisung,” he warns his friend without opening his eyes. “Sit the fuck down, you have five seconds.”

Felix smirks when Jisung immediately cowers, slumping and leaning himself against Hyunjin in utter defeat. He learned not to mess with Seungmin after throwing a wallet at him on impulse. “Jealous much, Han?” 

“Nah, she’s all yours bro,” Jisung waves it off tiredly; bickering and making fun of Felix’s gigantic crush on you is too much for his brain to process today. He can really use a long, solid twelve-hour summer hibernation after getting home. 

The statement prompts Felix to look over at you when there’s a red light—the same exact moment as you stop staring at the bakery from across the road to lock eyes with him. There’s a little spark igniting at the pit of his stomach, stirring up butterflies inside his rib cage. But he snaps out of it after seeing you raise a brow at him, implying a silent ‘what?’ before turning away again. Felix has always been the type to stare so you don’t bother to think about it too much. 

The problem is: he only stares at you that way. 

A shade of coral creeps its way up to his cheeks, his gaze averting back on the roads when the light turns green. As Felix tries to calm the erratic tempo of his heartbeat, he also thinks about how much time he’d have left to confess before high school is over and everyone takes their own different paths. Then again, the future is far too blurry for him to make out anything and the thought of changes petrifies him a bit too much. 

Felix wishes to hold your hand until the very end but he’s a little scared...because what if you never wanted to be with him in the first place?

two.

Your brother has one talent, and that’s his ability to irritate the living daylight out of you even when he’s practically on the other side of the planet.

Minho (un)fortunately finished his finals with flying colors, and inevitably, you’re the first victim to receive a series of texts that consisted of nothing but self-indulgent, excessive bragging. Basically, he’s allowed to do whatever slash go wherever for a good three weeks before his summer internship begins, dragging his dumb ass back to hell—where he rightfully belongs. 

He’s probably chomping on a terribly unhealthy amount of pizza, pretzels, and any type of New York street food that you can name from the top of your head. It’s not like he’s paying for them anyway since Chan doesn’t allow people to touch their wallets if they happen to eat out with him. 

Your phone vibrates obnoxiously on your desk, the judder slightly muffled because it’s lying on top of your wide-open psych textbook. You haven’t bothered with cleaning up yet; finals only ended yesterday and you decide that you won’t touch anything until the disarray starts to scrape against your nerves. 

Side note: you’ve specifically told everyone not to call you three consecutive days after finals because yes, you’re that much of a loner, and yes, your stamina level for tolerating human interaction is awfully low. 

Second side note: no one ever listens. 

“Good morning, this is Lee Minho’s personal bullshit pail,” you mumble after your thumb swipes against the screen to pick up, your limbs curled up on the floor. “How can I possibly help you today?” Your morning voice isn’t necessarily threatening but rather scary; according to what Minho claimed, it sounds identical to that creepy girl from The Grudge so he groans aloud, his voice suddenly going out of focus on the other line from pulling his phone away.

“Jesus Christ are you still in your hermit phase after finals?” he questions callously, sounding not at all pleased with the way you greeted him. “Where’s mom and dad? Usually, they would have slammed your ass by now for staying inside like a vampire.”

“Don’t be insufferable, it’s only like…” you trail off while bending forward to take a good look at the little Sumiko Gurashi alarm on your bookshelf that Felix gave you during middle school. “Nine thirty-something and they’re at the park to exercise, duh- why do you care?”

Your brother almost sings on the phone, “Because you’re my little baby sister-” And this prompts you to pull the device away for the sake of your poor ear. It doesn’t help when you’re already surrounded by a group full of obnoxiously loud individuals on a daily basis. Not trying to call anyone out but Han Jisung is at the top of the list, his name in bold, capital letters being circled and underlined multiple times with a red marker.

“Who do I gotta kill to sleep in on a dreadful Sunday morning as any normal, cranky, antisocial high school student would?” you deadpan and rub the bridge of your nose dreadfully. 

“I don’t know, go murder Jisung or something.” Honestly, that’s tempting… but no.

You can physically see the smug smile on his face right now, simpering in delight at your imminent misery. He knows goddamn well about your relationship with sleeping schedules and that’s the perfect excuse for him to ruin those little specks of time when your brain cells are getting an actual break. 

These are also the times when you wish phones don’t fucking exist. 

“By the way, are you gonna go on the field trip tomorrow?” 

This question wakes you up almost completely because your eyes are now wide as a fish’s out of water, your hand automatically putting him on speaker before digging through the folders inside your backpack. What field trip? No one said anything about a field trip. And who thought it’s a good idea to force some worn-out, post-exams, sleep-deprived students into a field trip right after finals?

Minho hums coyly when the only response he’s getting is the rustling sound from your backpack, “Hmm, see what I meant there, little sis? Oh, the downside of living under a rock at its finest.” He doesn’t have to be here for you to fully picture the way that his lips curl up, dark brows wiggling whenever he’s right about something. Your brother wins most of the time against other people but overtaking you is an entirely different story.

“Oh screw off and go buy yourself a sense of humor.”

“Don’t be so mopey, isn’t Felix gonna be there?”

“What does Felix have to do with this?” you grit after managing to pull out a piece of paper from the very back, buried under countless of your essays. And it reads ‘field trip’ in caps at the top with tomorrow’s date right beneath. The trip lasts for three days, you’re going camping with the grizzly bears for three days—a total nightmare, basically. 

“Pfft, you’re actually dense for someone with a sparkly report card,” he sneers. “That kid has been crushing on you since elementary school. Are the signals that fucked up?”

“You mean when I accidentally spilled orange juice over his head? Sure, bet that’s why he’s so head over heels for me,” you snicker, unfazed by these kinds of statements. Minho only knows Felix because he was the president of your school's dance club and you fully believe that your brother is simply trying to mess with your malfunctioning, cranky mindset. 

“I fucking beg to differ, he always stares at you like you’re the love of his life, even when you stupidly poked yourself with a needle,” Minho announces as if he’s a love expert, tsk, amateur. “He might just confess during the trip, who knows? Campfire flickering. Sharing the same s’mores. Surrounded by nature. That sounds romantically ideal to me for a confession.”

He’s visioning everything like a terrible cliché film where two high schoolers stubbornly deny their feelings for each other until they start noticing how cute the other person is while magically being forced to be alone together. The worst kind of high school movie—which is also almost every high school movie. And you best believe that you’d a hundred percent kick your brother’s ass off that director’s chair because people live and breathe for this kind of overused entertainment. Tragic. 

“Alright, fuck this, I’m out-“

“Wait!” Minho exclaims out of nowhere, almost blowing up your eardrums. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

You swear you’re rolling your eyes so hard, they’re about to fall out of their respective sockets. “Well, obviously,” you put the piece of paper down with a sigh, contemplating ways to minimize the amount of socializing in the upcoming three days. “Haven’t you bothered me enough? No?”

“You can’t leave me like this,” he whines in an annoyingly high-pitched voice that sends chills down your spine. 

“You need me, we’re connected.” 

He sounds like a whack version of Minnie Mouse for a second there, the kind of plushie that looks cute but with disturbingly creepy voice audio; no parents would let their children go near that aisle. 

You yawn as if there’s no tomorrow, stretching your limbs tiredly. “What I need is for you to shut the fuck up and leave me alone so I can go on my merry way to pick up snacks for this stupid field trip,” you utter lifelessly. 

“You hurt my feelings,” Minho pretends to clutch onto his chest and lets out a dramatic gasp, his voice doused in pure sarcasm. “What a heartbreaker, Y/N.” Said the one who always keeps his apathetic front up like a fortress’ wall and tosses every single love letter on Valentine’s Day into the recycling bin, handing the chocolate out to his classmates like he’s giving leftover vegetables to his least favorite relatives.

“Oh, I can tell,” you reply with fake enthusiasm and mock empathy. “You know how I can tell?”

“Do not finish th-”

“Cause we’re connected.” With that you hang up, slamming your phone harshly onto the surface of your textbook. 

three. 

You might love your room a little too much, it’s getting somewhat unhealthy.

It was furnished with a rather meager budget after your family moved out of your hometown when you stepped into elementary school. Things stay the same, well, most of it as time passes by you unknowingly. Your sad bookcase used to exist for one sole purpose—carrying countless books and plushies has now been upgraded with too many polaroids of your dumb group of friends, a neatly framed photo of Class of 2020 and two trophies that don’t even belong to you since Minho ran out of space as he kept participating in random dance competitions. 

The morning beams find their way through your white curtains and stain your walls with patches of yellow, eventually bugging your vision until you successfully convince yourself to either 1) wake up and get ready for school or 2) lazily stride across your room to shut the blinds completely so you can head back to bed. It’s summer… so option one is temporarily non-existent for a solid three months. 

Hey, you’re just simply making up for those all-nighters with a new cup of coffee every two hours.

Speaking of your bed, it’s soft but takes up so much space to the point that Hyunjin keeps complaining about not having enough room for his legs when he’s sprawled across the floor with Jisung, vigorously focusing on a presentation’s outline. Seungmin calls you lame for not throwing away your childhood plushies and letting them hog at least one-third of your bed, but Felix doesn’t mind since he always needs something to hug. All the more reasons why you can only trust Felix.

You might miss having those idiots being loud and invading your personal space...maybe.

Your phone rings for the second time that morning when you’re walking downstairs, shoving your keys into your pocket and grabbing a protein bar on the counter. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit right now, Minho,” you bark into the device, chewing on your breakfast aggressively, not bothering to look at the caller’s ID.

The closest convenience store is only twenty minutes away from your house but there’s a sticky note on the fridge from your mom, reminding you that she needs eggs to bake cupcakes for her company’s twentieth anniversary while your dad is running low on his Red Bulls. Basically, you’re in distress. It’s not like your dad should be inhaling those sugary drinks on a daily basis and your mom can just buy premade goods from the bakery. But there are more options for snacks at the supermarket…

“Y/N, the fuck?” The response of a voice as deep as the Pacific ocean almost makes you choke on air. “Did I wake you up or something?” Felix sounds flabbergasted on the other line, slightly taken aback. You almost feel bad because he’s the only sweetheart in your chaotic squad (besides Chan, obvi) except when he stays up late gaming with Hyunjin, pleading for your notes the next morning with puppy eyes.

“No, Minho did,” you grumble before tossing the wrapping into a bin.

“You don’t say,” Felix replies flatly, but his voice soon grows merry again after pushing the topic of your brother aside. “Oh, and I’m coming over to return your earphones, wanna grab breakfast?”

He practically lives ten minutes away from you, sees you almost every day even if it’s the weekend since he can’t stay in the same house with his sisters for too long and puts you on FaceTime every night to prevent himself from slacking off on assignments. The only time he didn’t get to see you for a week straight was when he visited Australia and accidentally dropped his phone into the ocean. It was a rough week without you nagging him for doing something stupid. Fundamentally, he’s merely making up more excuses to spend time with you after finals.

Chuckling, “Only if you’re treating me, I’m about to go broke from buying snacks for our field trip tomorrow.” you say breezily. 

And you’re only telling him that because he might just pay for your snacks as well since Felix Lee eats freshly grilled steak and mashed potato for breakfast. Baffling, absolutely. Plus, he works at a boba shop every summer either way and he would never hesitate to spend the entirety of his paycheck on any of his close friends. Irrelevant but the point is: you kinda don’t wanna go out alone today.

Or you’re just in the mood to go with Felix. That’s a useless statement since you both see each other at least ten out of twenty-four hours per day. 

“By the way, you know what I just realized?” Felix smacks his palm on his forehead. “This is our last field trip, like ever.”

Walking over to the rack of shoes down the hallway, you let out a large exhale. “That’s unfortunate on your behalf. I, on the other hand, don’t have a problem with that,” you tell him with zero consideration, your brain cells too busy picking out a pair of shoes to process the five basic steps to empathize with another human being. 

“No,” he emphasizes helplessly. “I meant, it’s like our last high school field trip. We’re graduating next year, no time to sleep with the grizzly bears again.”

You can only manage to utter, “Oh.” Shit, college is right around the corners. 

“Jesus fucking Christ what the hell am I supposed to do after high school? Stay here? Go abroad? Wait, aren’t applications for going abroad supposed to be turned in a year beforehand? Why are you only telling me this now!?” 

Felix laughs wholeheartedly through the phone, amused at your sudden outburst. “Y/N, calm down. You’re going to college, not prison,” he brushes it off casually but in a way, college is technically prison. Slaving over a degree while working part-time jobs, chasing time relentlessly like you’re driving in the middle of a foggy night with one headlight out. And you’re forced to open up with more strangers. It’s terrifying, actually terrifying. And you’re not the type to be easily terrified. 

Now come to think about it, you don’t get why you were so pressed about it five seconds ago. It’s a good opportunity not to leech off your parents as much, like dabbling, taking one baby step at a time into adulthood. After that, you’ll graduate again, probably settle somewhere with an adequate job and find someone, starting to think about having ki-

Hold up, you’re going too far. You’re barely a senior. 

“I guess we’ll just have to make the most out of this summer,” Felix’s voice snaps you back to the surface of Earth faster than a tick of a clock. “We’re outside, by the way. Open up.”

That fast? Furrowing your brows, you hang up to slip into a pair of sneakers before sprinting to the front door. Wait, your hand freezes as it grazes the doorknob. We?

Not again. 

“Why the fuck..” you cracks a lifelessly crooked smile after pushing the door wide open. “..are you here?” It’s only ten in the morning, and you don’t think you should be screaming at the top of your lungs to be jumped on by the whole neighborhood.

Felix takes a step back, a little scared for his life. “Uhh, to return your earphones?”

“No, no,” you run a hand through your hair tiredly. Just when you thought this day was gonna be peaceful. “I’m not talking about you, I’m talking about them. Since when was this an agreement? How dare-“

“Why yes, I missed you too!” Jisung exclaims like the little shit he is, throwing an arm over your neck to ruffle your hair. No one ruffles your hair without getting their ass slammed- except for Minho. “Why the long face? Let me guess, until this exact second, you thought there’s a fucking squirrel, a lama, a dog, and a kitten standing at your front porch? No, it’s us, your Forever BFFs.” He’s one of the reasons why you refuse to understand the humans’ language sometimes.

With a harsh shove from you, Jisung staggers backward only for Hyunjin to prevent him from rolling like a ball in the middle of your neighborhood. “One more word and I’m telling the whole class who your crush is,” you threaten, earning an involuntary snort from Seungmin. 

“I hate to admit this, but she might actually say yes if he makes the first move.”

Hyunjin supplies unconstructively, “That’s why he didn’t ask.”

“You know what, Hwang,” Felix says with a smirk tugging at his lips, bumping his fist against Hyunjin’s without turning his head. 

“Oh screw all of you.” Jisung’s getting all the attention he wanted this early in the morning yet he still feels like a loser. Perhaps he should try shutting up once in a while. 

four.

“Thanks for giving me a ride, uncle, you really didn’t have to,” Felix says generously from your dad’s back seats, scratching the nape of his neck as though this is the first time he’s ever shared a ride with you. 

He’s too humble sometimes you just want to smack him across the face with a pillow to stop being so formal with your dad. Heck, Felix downright called him ‘dad’ by accident once during a Christmas dinner back in middle school and your dad even encouraged him to keep addressing him like that. 

Not to mention, Felix is chomping on a turkey sandwich that your mom made this morning specifically for him after finding out that his parents are currently out of town and there's nothing but ramen in the cabinet. God forbids her to starve the same kid who helped your dad fix his bumper. So really, he should be expecting these things by now. 

“Oh it’s not a big deal, you’re too nice,” your dad laughs as he pulls over to your school’s front gate, careful not to run into that one really tall, ugly tree. You’re lowkey paranoid that people might die if it collapses during a storm or something. “Perhaps you can return the favor by getting a drink with me sometimes.”

Felix blinks numerous times, slightly gobsmacked. “...but I’m not old enough to drink yet.”

“Correct answer.” And you snicker when your dad turns around to toss a wink at your friend’s direction. “Doesn’t mean that I’m forbidding you kids have fun,” he clarifies upon the baffled expression on Felix’s face. “But not too much fun, got it?”

“Okay, okay dad, I’ll see you in three days,” you shake your head before climbing out of the car. “Don’t starve the cats while I’m gone. Oh! And Soonie still needs his lactobacillus-“

Your dad brushes it off with a sheepish smile, “I’ll leave it to your mom, muffin, I can’t even remember which dry food is for which cat. I also don’t think they’ll be starving anytime soon, those little demons are getting quite fat actually since your brother spoils them all the time.” You can only give him a mere eye-roll because as much as he claims to hate having pets, there have been countless times when you caught your dad red-handed trying to tuck the cats into bed in the middle of the night. 

Felix soon catches up with your steps after bidding him farewell, crumpling the sandwich wrapper in his palm. “Wait up, muffin,” he says breathlessly with a few skips, starting to think about not skipping dance practice again this summer before his body gets out of shape. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, followed by a harsh elbow jabbed into his side. Felix grunts in pain, slowing down a little but still tries to walk side by side with you nonetheless. “You don’t deserve that complimentary breakfast, I’m telling mom to cut your portion off next time.” 

“Ah! Come on, muffin! You’re being mean.”

Your biggest fear has inevitably come true—after all those years of erratic mood swings and other weird things puberty puts you through, Felix still makes fun of you for the nickname that your parents came up with on your first day of school. It doesn’t help with the fact that he meets them quite often too. Like four out of seven days a week since your parents love coming over to each other’s house for dinner. 

“Flip that scowl upside down now, will you?” Felix cups your cheeks and squishes them together, attempting to make your smile by tugging at the corners of your lips. “Aren’t you excited about the trip?”

You scoff at him, “Are you even hearing yourself? My entire existence reeks off ‘excitement’ 24/7.” 

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m not responsible for whatever happens next to your face.”

But when you reach up to peel his hands away, you’re bound to make a grave mistake by looking straight into his eyes. The morning light hits his face at the right angle and it makes him look like a puppy—which you wouldn't mind starting at all day. Although it’s not like you haven’t got a good look at him before, something’s different today. From the way his irises twinkle gently like thousands of celestial bodies to how his freckles scattered across his cheekbones like the remaining bits from a supernova, his full lips with a prominent Cupid’s bow and his cute crooked teeth. 

You know all of these things; perhaps you’ve never put too much thought into them before. Not when you’re constantly facepalming at him for doing stupid TikTok dances and trying to eat a banana with its peel on. But now when you actually acknowledge them, your heart momentarily skips a beat. Or two. 

Doesn’t matter, you hate this feeling either way. 

“Get a room, this is disgusting to watch.” 

Seungmin steps in between you two with his backpack slung over his shoulders, hands resting on his hip like he’s babysitting you and your biological parents don’t pay him enough for this tedious job. But Felix is too busy making sure that his eyes aren’t malfunctioning when he sees a pink tint on your cheeks to focus on whatever nonsense Seungmin is spewing at him. 

“Get on the bus, losers! Y’all are embarrassing me!” Hyunjin yells as he plants a foot onto the bus, trying his best not to be subtle about the fact that all of your classmates have already been seated. 

You can practically see Jisung making weird faces from the window and next to him is a very cranky-looking Jeongin with his earbuds plugged in, deciding not to tolerate any chit-chatting this morning. It’s a shame how the school’s always on a low budget when it comes to transportation; consequently, some random freshmen got squeezed in with your class. 

So you elect to ignore your friend’s questionable behaviors (sometimes you wonder what he’s on to be this zealous at six in the morning) and grabs Felix's hand to climb onto the vehicle before coach Kim kicks your ass for slowing the schedule down. 

As you shuffle down the narrow aisle, you quickly realize there are only two seats left at the very back—basically, you feel a little guilty for not getting a good spot for Felix but he doesn’t seem to mind because he taps you on the shoulder lightly, signaling for you to move.

“Ugh, I wanna go home,” you sigh, slumping into your seat after tucking your backpack neatly on the small compartment above. 

“You’re boring,” Felix comments flatly but he’s partially glad that he got to sit with you instead of some blabberer. “Need this?” Fishing his earphones out of his backpack, he wiggles the banana milk case in front of your face. 

You only nod lazily at the offer, causing him to huff in disbelief before slipping in a side of his AirPods into your ear. You both have pretty similar taste in music so you don’t mind when he puts one of his playlists on random and Fly Me to the Moon bleeds into your eardrums. The soft melody makes you yawn a little, eyelids getting droopy. 

“Tired.” Is the only warning Felix gets before you decide to drop your head onto his shoulders, slipping your arm around his torso comfortably like it’s a pillow. You personally don’t do cuddles but since he’s into those things and smells nice—very fruity, somewhat musky too, you might as well take advantage of that with the hope of sleeping throughout the entire ride. 

“What is wrong with you today?” he asks with glowing cheeks. 

“Shh shh, I’m recharging my battery.”

Felix is a little flustered, to say the least. But instead of complaining about your sudden clinginess, he rests his head on top of yours like second nature, allowing his childhood song to drown out some of the background chatters. 

You should really be clingy more often… though he’s not gonna risk his pearly white teeth by telling you that. 

five. 

Your school actually knows how to manage money in a smart way. Shocker, you know. 

You are thrown off upon hearing that no one needs to worry about the grizzly bears, or wolves (hey, one can never be too careful) because everyone gets to share a log cabin with a maximum of three other people. 

In fact, the camp counselors have confirmed that even though they’re throwing a bunch of inexperienced, dumb high schoolers smacked in the middle of the wilderness, there’s really nothing to do other than boring team-building exercises...and fishing. In other words, the only creature that can somewhat do harm to you is mosquitoes. 

It’s been pouring nonstop when your classmates tried to set up the campfire with coach Kim screaming into their eardrums last night, no wonder those little shit are thriving to make your life more miserable—they’re in their element, reproducing at a terrifying pace. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!” 

Hyunjin clutches a hand to his chest in both relief and terror after realizing the curled up figure sitting by the window is just you. He steps inside the cabin completely and flings his wet bangs away from his face, shoving the umbrella in his hand into a stand by the shoe rack. “You look like shit, are you okay?” he furrows his brows, slightly concerned about your eyebags and the way your lips crack from dehydration.

A soulless smile finds its way to your face. “I’m pretty sure ‘shit’ and ‘okay’ aren’t supposed to be in the same sentence but thank you for asking, I appreciate it.”

Here’s another downside to being a homebody: you can’t fucking sleep on any other beds that aren’t yours. And surprisingly that two-hour nap on the bus wasn’t enough to fuel you for the rest of the trip. But lucky you, it’s most likely going to keep raining cats and dogs and trash pandas for the rest of the day. Outdoor activities are no longer mandatory and you can almost hear your non-existent muscles crying in sheer joy. 

“Drink,” Hyunjin sighs at your pathetic state and decides to toss a water bottle in your direction. 

However, all you do is retrieve your limbs deeper into Felix’s fluffy blanket since he refused to use the grey one that’s draped over every bed beforehand. You’re far beyond grateful for that because those fading, questionable-looking stains just scare the crap out of you. And also because the fluffy blanket smells like him; you rest your case.

“You were knocked out for the entire bus ride, so why the hell can’t you fall asleep on a decent bed?” Shaking his head, Hyunjin plops himself onto Jisung’s bed like a potato, accidentally knocking over the neatly folded pile of clothes. He really doesn’t give two flying fucks about the fact that his friend spent an excessive ten minutes to organize his stuff so coach Kim won’t be barging into their cabin with a megaphone at five in the morning again. 

“She can only fall asleep on Felix, that’s why.” You roll your eyes in the bitchiest way possible, not bothering to chuck the abandoned water bottle at the unwanted guest of this terrific conversation. 

Hyunjin almost lets out a shriek when Seungmin jolts up from his bed, hair messy, a leg sticking out from his comforter. “You know, until this exact moment, I thought that you were dead or something.”

“What I’m trying to say is,” Seungmin elaborates as he bends over to reach for his glasses with squinted eyes. “There’s a 99,9% that Felix will make the first move but at the same time, it doesn’t mean the other 0,01% won’t happen so you,” he jabs his index finger towards you. “Better be doing something other than walking around camp like a zombie.”

Hyunjin tilts his head in confusion. “Since when was this even a thing?” You’re this close to have a permanent hand imprint on your forehead for facepalming every two seconds with your idiotic friends around. 

“Uhh, since forever?” Seungmin feels the need to voice out. “Listen, since the day Y/N spilled orange juice on Felix’s favorite shirt, the amount of times they’re forced to be together has risen tremendously. And when their parents found out their families live like ten minutes away from each other, they practically see each other every single day. Even outside of school. They tolerate each other, meaning the dynamic is long-lasting. Their bonding encouraged friendship.” 

“But we’re her friends too?”

A deep breath. “No, their friendship was incited to grow into something bigger, more profound because Felix has a special ‘click’ with Y/N that he doesn’t with us. God, Hyunjin, it’s been what, almost a decade! How could you not see it?” Seungmin says with expressive hands, almost yanking every strand of hair off of his head. It’s too early for this, his brain is about to implode. Hwang Hyunjin being dense just feels like a metaphoric chokehold to him. 

“Y/N,” Hyunjin simply ignores his frustrated friend to look over at you slipping into your sneakers. “You’re being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.”

“That’s because she’s about to either shut the door in my face then find Felix or kick my ass and then find Felix,” Seungmin informs with a yawn, and this prompts you to muster a fake smile. 

Oh, I’m fucking livid. 

“You know me too well.”

He questions with heavy irony, “I’m sorry did you just agree with me?”

“Oh no, no, I take that back,” you brush him off. “Is Felix still outside fishing?”

“I think so?” Hyunjin replies while running a hand through his hair in mere distress; Felix’s competitiveness goes a little mayhem sometimes when it comes to Jisung being better than him at something since they’re so close. That’s one of the sole reasons why Felix always manages to maintain his flying GPA because Han Jisung procrastinates like no other but still tops his class every single semester. 

“I didn’t find him at the lake, though, wonder where he went.”

You widen your eyes, somewhat alarmed since it’s almost lunchtime, and Felix Lee never, and you mean never, ever let himself skip a meal. He always gets a nice nap after stuffing his face with enough good food too, so that’s a bonus. But that’s not the point, the point is: you’re starting to get a little worried because he’s been fishing all morning, wandering alone in the wilderness without a camp counselor. 

You’d better not find him sleeping with the fishes. 

six.

Maybe you were right, maybe Felix is a dumbass.

Because listening to his ego and coming back to the lake after breakfast was a horrendous idea. 

It’s such a pity how those weird-looking vehicles have stopped driving around camp the moment it started pouring outside. Heck, he didn’t even bring an umbrella after asking the coach to check today's forecast. 

So tragically, he’s now stuck underneath the canopy of a cafe ensuing coursing his way through the water blizzard and seeking refuge but can’t walk back to his cabin where his cabin-mates are probably having the time of their life drinking hot chocolate and nibbling on hand-picked fruits.

Felix exhales in torment while gazing outside, everything’s completely white-out thanks to droplets of raining streaking the horizon. Perhaps dashing back might be his one solitary option, but shivers soon run up his spine again, reminding him that he’s probably looking like a wet rat—his black Converse sodden, water seeping through the thin fabric of his uniform, numbing his skin. 

Ruffling his wet fringe, Felix’s hand fishes inside his pocket to look for his phone only to realize that it’s not there. “Shit...great..just great, today is my lucky day.” Even if the camp counselors didn’t confiscate all the electronic devices, there wouldn’t be any service in the middle of the woods either. Splendid. 

“Ugh, Y/N,” he groans under his breath. “Why did you let me do this?”

“Shit.”

 “AHH!”

Felix shrieks upon the tiny voice squeaking out from behind him. And he sighs in pure relief to see a little girl standing mere inches away, looking no more than a seven-year-old dressed in a yellow raincoat. “Hey kid,” he chuckles and crouches down to her eye level. “Where are your parents? You’re not supposed to be out here alone when it’s pouring like crazy.” 

And to his dismay, “Shit,” the little girl giggles, finding a new profound interest in the curse word that he accidentally spewed out seconds ago. 

“Shh shh,” Felix frantically places an index finger on his lips while darting his eyes around in terror—he might be sued if her parents found out how their daughter picked up a bad word from some random high schooler. Suddenly he feels bad for his future kids. “No, no, we can’t say that. It’s forbidden. What’s your name?”

“Mina,” she answers cutely and fiddles with the ends of her braids. “Who’s Y/N? Is she your girlfriend?”

Felix chokes on his own saliva. “...no, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, my dad always calls my mom’s name when he messes things up.”

“What does that have to do with- oh, shit,” he facepalms himself. This kid is going to give him a cardiac arrest any second now. “It doesn’t matter if she’s my girlfriend or not, what matters is I need to get you back to your parents. Do you know where they are right now?”

Mina simply shakes her head with a pout. “Okay, let’s go find them then,” he can’t help but cracks a smile, ruffling her hair endearingly. Most kids would be bawling their eyes out by now knowing that they’ve strayed from their parents; she’s a tough one. 

Felix gently grabs Mina’s hand, biting down on his lower lip as he prays that a cold doesn’t catch up to him tomorrow and ready to dash out of the canopy that’s been keeping him dry for the last hour or two. But then a figure comes into view from afar, holding an umbrella while squinting their eyes through the thick streaks of rain. 

“Y/N..?” he mutters to himself in disbelief when you quickly skip underneath the canopy, collapsing the red umbrella in your hands. Felix recognizes that umbrella anywhere—isn’t that Hyunjin’s? Have you been looking for him? And for how long too?

“Didn’t even think about bringing an umbrella, smartass,” you say with a raised eyebrow. “Oh dear, who do we have here?” Before Felix can defend himself in vain with lame excuses, you’ve already taken your attention off him to stare at the unfamiliar presence. Your intense gaze scares Mina a little, causing the little girl to squeeze Felix’s hand, hiding behind his leg. 

Your friend laughs, patting her little head in reassurance. “Mina, this is Y/N, my classmate. Don’t let her intimidate you.”

“Are you really going to bother with this little one?” you scrunch your nose a bit. “We’re having pork rib soup, by the way, better hurry if you don’t want Han to hog your portion all to himself.”

Felix rolls his eyes at how utterly apathetic you are towards children. If you can get a perfect A in calc then why is it so hard to simply comprehend that every twelve-year-old needs to be returned to their hypothetical parents safely? “What part of ‘a common sense of morality’ can’t you understand?” 

“I don’t want to, actually, sounds like a lot of work,” you hum sarcastically. 

“Your girlfriend is scary,” Mina ensconces herself further behind your friend, officially detecting you as a threat rather than someone who will potentially bring her back to the cabin where her parents are probably flipping the whole place upside down in a panic—which is exactly what you’re planning to do. 

In your defense, you don’t detest kids in general. Only the bratty ones. And Mina is borderline bratty. 

“You know, I can spare her some time, Lost and Found is like..ten minutes away from here.”

“Y/N-” Felix wants to scream at you, rubbing the side of his temple in distress. Imagining you babysitting your neighbor’s newborn last summer with nine bucks per hour, ten hours per day, and five out of seven days per week is one of the few things that constantly keeps him from having a good night's sleep. It baffles him how you haven’t accidentally drowned the infant while giving her a bath. 

Mina gives the side of his jeans a tug, round eyes staring up at him expectantly. “Or we can get juice pops!” she exclaims happily and looks over to you, mustering her best puppy eyes. “Please? I don’t want to be alone..” 

“Twenty seconds ago, you called me scary and now you’re guilt-tripping me?” you crouch down to get a good look at the kid. Bright, innocent brown eyes, cute button nose, and a chipped front tooth—perhaps she’s a little too cute to not get her juice pops. 

Then, “And juice pops too? You evil mad mind genius,” you say after standing up to unfold Hyunjin’s umbrella, swinging it over the top of your head. “That’s extortion, kid, you’re too young for that.”

Felix breaks into a fit of giggles upon seeing you failing at trying to keep a straight face and steps in beside you under the umbrella. His next problem just pops up right then and there—Mina can’t squeeze in considering the umbrella that Hyunjin gave you is solely used for one person. 

“Mina, hop on here,” he decides to get on his knees, permitting the little girl to clumsily climb on his back and eventually plopping herself onto his shoulders. 

“Oh, oh, oh, can you two hold hands?” Mina suggests with a shit-eating grin on her face. This causes Felix’s cheeks to burn with a bright shade of red while you’re too busy throwing daggers at her with your eyes to notice. “My family does this all the time, my dad would carry me on his shoulders and my mom would hold his hand as we walk home after going to the park.”

You and Felix yell simultaneously, “We’re not your parents!!” But that doesn’t seem to scare the little girl. You’re both just encouraging her. 

“Yip yip, horsey, don’t be disobedient now,” she giggles to herself and pulls at a solid patch of Felix’s hair, making you cringe because his hair and scalp have already had enough from his questionable obsession with bright hair colors. 

“Ow! Mina! Stop it! Ow!”

“Okay quit torturing my friend,” you tell her and decide to slip your hand in with Felix’s, intertwining your fingers to secure the grip before showing it to Mina so that she’ll stop before any blood is drawn. “There, we’re holding hands just like your mommy and daddy, you happy?” 

Felix doesn’t say anything even when Mina nods happily, releasing her monstrous grip off his poor scalp. He only lets you tug him away from the canopy of the cafe as he gazes downward, eyes glued to how your hand fits into his perfectly. The sound of rain tapping against the umbrella suddenly bugs him, suffocating him in a way. In other words, it’s really unnatural to think this way about his best friend but he doesn't want you to let go at all. 

Everything seems to move faster when you’re holding onto his hand so certainly. Felix thinks you’re fully aware but try to fight off the voices that are taunting you to just drop it. And truth is, you can care less because your head is now far too fuzzy to focus on anything but the road ahead. 

You pray he doesn’t feel the pounding rhythm from your veins. If your red ears haven’t given it away already. 

seven.

Jisung has weird friends, that’s a fact. And no, you’re not talking about the gang that saved his ass every time he got into trouble aka you plus JeongMinLixJin. You’re talking about those kids from Class 2C that are mutual friends with Changbin.

Because the moment Jisung barges into the cabin and starts babbling nonsense that you can’t comprehend (not that you can comprehend any of his shit on the daily), you know that he just came back from a get together with those sketchy dudes who managed to sneak some booze inside a shampoo bottle.

“Uhm okay, who gave Felix alcohol?” he squints his eyes hard. 

You are more than aware that Jisung is mildly smashed by the way that his cheeks are tinted with a light shade of coral, hiccupping every ten seconds and slightly more clumsy with his feet. He almost tripped over the rug at the front door if it weren’t for Hyunjin who caught him in time so that he wouldn’t break one of his precious teeth. Those painful years of constantly slurping on watery porridge after every dentist appointment to tighten his braces shouldn’t be going down the drain. 

Speaking of bland rice water, that’s all Felix has been fed with after returning to camp because he has no choice. The sickness finally caught up to him as a result of staying outside for too long while still dressed in his rain-soaked uniform. Even under the cotton comforter, he’s radiating heat on the outside but stoically shivering on the inside, his energy level is as diminished as his appetite. 

The nurse said there’s really nothing that can be done but give him some pills and let him ride it out so now Felix’s all curled up in a corner of his bed, cheeks burning flush of fever, coughing and sneezing occasionally. He refuses to be moved to a completely separate cabin because sleeping alone in a confined place knowing that the grizzly bears might be roaming outside your door is quite frightening for a junior in high school. 

“God, what makes you think I’m the batshit drunk one here?” Felix croaks, his voice more hoarse and gruff than usual because every word pains him, his vocal cords pulse in agony at each syllable. And that sentence was probably the longest thing you’ve heard from him since dinner. 

Jisung lets Hyunjin toss him onto his bed, face down, and props himself up on his forearms. “Uhh, have you checked yourself the mirror?” he hiccups, words a bit slurred, palms outstretched in a grabby motion. “Seungmin, water- ow! What the fuck was that!?” 

He rubs the side of his head while babbling incoherently like a fucking five-year-old because Seungmin decided to chuck a water bottle at him. Those years of playing baseball during retreats indeed paid off. 

“I went for the head,” Seungmin looks up from his book calmly, acting innocent. 

Jisung whines and turns to his side, watching as the water bottle rolls back towards him after coming in contact with the wall. “God, I miss Minho. You guys suck,” he takes it before sitting right up but flops himself back down when a pang of pain claws at his temple. Who even allowed him to drink?

“Didn’t he make your high school experience miserable?” Hyunjin laughs, sitting down on the corner of his bed, legs curled into his chest. 

“Hello? That was me,” Seungmin clarifies, he sounds a little offended. “He called me a nerd for studying late at the library for our finals! Our fucking finals! Do you know how insecure my freshman self was? I was so hurt!” 

You cross your arms and mumble, “He’s the same guy who treated you ice-cream after finding out you got a B in physics.”

Hyunjin hums, butting into the topic, “And he made me do fifty push-ups because I unintentionally skipped a day at practice. Our Dance Club really didn’t need a president who effortlessly snatches the Asshole of the Year Award like he’s stealing candies from a kid.”

“Please, you’re practically buddies now,” you scoff. “You always play Mario Kart and rewatch the Avatar series with him, even during midterms!”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Jisung suddenly gets on his feet, jumping up and down like a maniac. You’re highly concerned for the bed by the creaking sound that it’s making—sounds just like something straight out of a horror film. “He almost threw a knife at me!”

You’re running out of excuses to defend your stupid brother at this rate. What’s the point in trying anyway? “Han, it was a plastic knife, chill.”

Jisung crawls off his bed to approach you, pinching his thumb and index finger together before shoving them to your face. “I was this close to dying! You try having someone threaten to throw a knife at you during lunch break,” he complains like it’s the end of the world. Truth is, you’ve seen (and experienced) worse things. 

“Minho’s still my brother.”

Staring at you, Jisung looks unimpressed. “He wanted to kill me because I commented on his puffy cheeks that day.”

“He’s adopted.”

The conversation is pulled to a halt right there when Felix does a full-body groan, his head spinning and sweats starting to collect at his hairline. With his mind buzzed like he’s floating, the bickering only adds to the pressure that’s squeezing each of his functioning brain cells. In other words, it feels as though Han Jisung is a fucking hamster going on a marathon across his body, nibbling on his limbs and ears as he’s going through a hangover, his immune system going on a rampage. 

Felix doesn’t even drink. 

“That’s my call for a bedtime story.” You glare at Jisung when he clears his throat while you’re attempting to tuck Felix into bed, pressing your palm against his forehead to check his temperature. It’s not climbing anymore, he should be okay after sweating everything out. 

Hyunjin pulls his friend back onto his bed, locking his limbs in tight before he waddles around and potentially breaks one of those decorative pieces on the bookshelf. “Not to burst your ego, but I don’t think you’re sober enough to give us a good story,” he says unapologetically. 

“Puh-lease,” Jisung lets out the weirdest chuckle at that, wagging his forearm like those Japanese ceramic cat figures that are supposed to bring people good fortune; and Han Jisung is notorious for bringing people anything but good fortune. “They didn’t even have vodka, only Strongbow. That shit is too weak for me.”

You snort involuntarily, “Actually, I think you meant you’re too weak for those bottles of cider.”

“Wow, Y/N, what a snake.”

eight.

The bonfire crackles, flaring up to life when coach Kim tosses a lit matchstick into the pyramid pile of branches and woods. The flame projects long shadows of the trees all round along, swirling and curling in obscure shapes with the high schoolers that each hugs their own cup of hot cocoa, chomping on their marshmallows of choice. 

Glowing embers beneath are colored by the inferno that seems to be moving with the rhythm and melody of the song that they’re all singing along, drumming their feet and bobbing their heads simultaneously. 

“Are you guys sure you don’t want to join them?” Felix says apologetically after sneezing into a piece of tissue, his nose all red and swollen. “I can just… I don’t know, read a book or something.”

When he refers to those oddly colorful and rather bulky-looking books on the shelves, Seungmin immediately stops putting a cookie inside his mouth midway. “Those are called ‘aesthetically useless interior decoration’, Lix. Good luck trying to open those plastic blocks,” he expresses with his hands after stuffing the cookie into his mouth, chewing rather aggressively. 

Felix feels quite bad because, for all he knows, Hyunjin and Seungmin have been planning on going kayaking today and trying out volleyball tomorrow. You’re all going home in two days yet they’ve done nothing but pigging out in pure distress. “Still, it’s a summer camp, you all should be out there having fun, not stuck inside to look after me while tolerating...that,” he quietly looks over at Jisung who just exited the bathroom after splashing his face with some water. 

At least he doesn’t look crazy and homeless now. 

“How are they doing that again?” you join Hyunjin as he rests his head lazily on his forearms, staring outside from the cabin’s window like Rapunzel in an alternative universe where Flynn Rider managed to escape the tower with the crown, leaving her behind longing for civil human interactions in vain. 

“They sing..” he drawls. “And turn their heads to look at each other in the eye.”

You wave it off absentmindedly, falling on your back so now your head is hung upside down from the bed, your arms dangling midair. “Well, that sounds exhausting,” you mumble, ignoring the way that Seungmin is internally judging you. 

Hyunjin sighs, “Never one for sentiment, are you?”

“Easier to let it burn,” you answer flatly, sitting upright when blood starts rushing to your head. 

“Don’t feel bad,” Seungmin immediately forces a smile at Felix. “We’re not really into sitting with a bunch of idiots just to enjoy a mildly decent hot cocoa either way.”

Suddenly the lights go out, and Felix immediately curls himself further into the blanket, a little thrown off. Jisung’s face comes into view out of nowhere when he makes a grab for the oil lamp that no one seems to take notice of, lighting it up with a single match. “C’mon, kids, no bonfire is complete without a good ghost story,” he crosses his legs on the floor happily, still somewhat tipsy so his body is bouncing in excitement with occasional hiccups. 

Hyunjin and Seungmin exchange questionable looks before scrambling to the floor, settling themselves a few solid inches in front of the oil lamp with a sigh while you only shrug at Felix, propping your head onto your hands. Laziness is starting to hold you hostage on Hyunjin’s bed at this rate. 

Seungmin spares Jisung a slight glare, “Better not bullshit us with the same one that you heard at school-”

“No,” Jisung’s lips morph into something similar to a smirk, he looks concerningly confident for someone who’s utterly terrified after watching IT. And now he’s attempting to give his bros who are equally jumpy about everything and anything, you’re excited to see how this goes. “I heard this one from a camp counselor, true story.” You definitely don’t like the sound of that.

At first, the ghost was no more than a chill in the air, a shimmer of mist to the common eyes. Through the heavy rain and fog that seeps through people’s skin, chilling the core of their bones, it slowly came into focus. It wasn’t until the camper found refuge under a canopy of an abandoned café that it congealed into a form—a small child with brilliant round eyes, dressed in white clothing. 

For a moment, all was silent and still. It was as though the camper got hypnotized, feet planted to the ground. Then, he could hear a small lullaby in a cheerful voice. 

“Oranges and Lemons say the bells of St.Clements…” They know how that one ended. 

Suddenly someone blows out the candle, but Jisung’s voice still rings in your eardrums. “When the camper took a step back, the ghost spoke again, this time with the voice almost of a smoker and grin…” You can feel Hyunjin hop back to bed with you in a tick of a clock, holding onto you for dear life with the infrequent whimpers of fear. 

Jisung proceeds to continue, “The grin soon became a snarl, baring teeth like a wolf when it finished the lullaby…”

A muffled silence descends. And, “Have you come to play…?”

“AHHH!!” Felix lets out a petrified shriek, but what confuses you is the sound of Jisung grunting rather in pain. Seungmin sighs in disapproval, flickering the lights on while leaning back against the wall. 

And now before your eyes is a slightly traumatized, feverish Felix with clattering teeth, quivering inside his blanket. Whereas, Jisung is sprawled across the floor, hugging his poor stomach, hacking up lungs. Deserve.

“This is why you don’t give people who can high-kick jump scares, dumbass,” Seungmin comments and crouches down in front of Jisung like his knight in shiny armors, letting a bottle of ointment dangle between his fingers. “Put this on, bet it’s already bruising.”

Hyunjin releases his arms around you and walks towards the freckled boy who looks like he’s about to slip into a coma. “Lix, are you okay?” he knits his brows together, starting to feel somewhat concerned. 

Felix only waves it off with a raspy laugh, standing on wobbly legs with his blanket still wrapped around his figure. “I’m fine, I’ll just go wash my face.” Truth is, he’s anything but fine. And it doesn’t help when he accidentally has a glance of his own reflection in the body-length mirror from across the cabin—his hair is sticking to his forehead, his face is slightly more puffy than usual, and his eyebags look like he hasn’t slept in decades—he looks worse than a trash can, basically. 

“Hyunjin,” you raise a brow at your friend’s current state.

“What?”

“Catch him.”

“Huh-” Hyunjin snaps his head back when a loud thud is heard, eyes growing twice as big in sheer panic upon the sight of Felix laying on his stomach, mere inches away from his feet. “Felix!!” Your friends rush to his side while you’re too busy checking the thermometer by his nightstand. The temperature doesn’t seem to be too alarming, he should be fine after sleeping and sweating it out. But really, Felix looks more like he’s having the nap of a lifetime rather than passing out from the worst fever of the century. That doesn’t stop everyone from freaking out, unfortunately. 

Also, everyone can agree that this is the first and last storytime to ever happen.

nine.

Felix sits on the beach, eyes moving from sand to stone, from rock pools to breaking waves. He lets out a sigh, an exhale of relief when a breeze passes by him, tousling his hair as he buries his feet deeper into the primrose-colored grains. The briny aroma that exists in every fiber of air makes him feel at ease, as though unknotting all his angsty-teenager worries with grace. He feels a bit better, partially because his fever has already gone down when he shook you out of your half-asleep state at four in the morning. 

“Why?” you ask without turning your head after sensing his tense posture.

Felix looks confused, a little startled when you break the silence. “Why what?”

“Why the long face?” you unknowingly exhale too, stubbornly gazing forward. “Thinking about something?” For some reason, you’re too...scared to even spare him a small glance. This isn’t you, did his fever rub off on you or something?

To your dismay, his sudden inquiry catches you off guard. “High school is going to be over in a year, have you thought about what to do?” 

You open your mouth to protest with something along the line of he’s overthinking again and there’s still an entire year ahead to make new memories but when you’re about to utter the first word, your mouth automatically snaps itself close. It’s like you have an entire masterpiece planned out in your mind but when someone tosses you a blank canvas, you’re standing there in defeat like the biggest idiot. Felix is serious this time, you know it’s not because he’s lightheaded after riding out the fever. 

“Honestly?” you breathe out. “No, I haven’t. God, I don’t even want to think about it, the future scares me a little.”

Upon the mossed rock and vibrant horizon, comes the sun rays that are promised by the starlit sky. It makes you both a little breathless, not exchanging a single word nor moving a muscle for a while. 

Until, “Fine, it scares me a whole lot,” you confess, gaze cast downward as you hug your legs closer to your chest. “It sucks because everyone seems to have their lives together, Jisung is finally taking his interest in music seriously, Hyunjin is planning on being an actual theater kid, and Seungmin is...I don’t know, but he’s definitely onto something. Point is, everyone is already one too many steps ahead of me, I’m just..here, stuck. And I don’t feel like I have-”

“A lot of time left.” Felix finishes your sentence, prompting you to look at him this time. His delicate features shine under the cracking lights of dawn, starry eyes twinkling and lips outstretched into the smile that you absolutely adore. He has such a contagious type of smile that it makes you feel a little less dead inside whenever you see it. But your heartbeat also grows a little more ecstatic. 

A hearty chuckle. “You’re not alone, you know,” he says while not breaking away from the eye contact, this makes your throat grow dry. “I still have so much to do, so much to...say yet too little time. So yeah, don’t think about it too much, I’m never gonna leave you behind no matter what.”

You have to hold back a playful scoff at that; and to think he was the one who brought up this sappy topic. “If anything, you’re the overthinker in this relationship,” you tell him with a nudge on his rib. “But if you’ve already had my back, then you should know that I’ll always have yours too.”

Because what would you do without an overthinker like Felix? Drowning your sorrow by stress-eating in the middle of the night? Bottoming out on questionable drinks to end up like Han Jisung? Winging every single important choice that can potentially flip your life upside down in either a good or bad way? Not in a million years. He knows that you need him as much as he needs you, harsh truth but you still hate it either way.

You both don’t look forward to the future, like at all. 

You’re too apathetic and overall just a big ‘meh’ about it. You’re the type of person that goes with the flow, letting life toss you around like a ragdoll until you finally snap at some point to fight back because you know where the line between giving up and knowing that you’ve had enough is. Meanwhile, Felix is rather anxious about things. If a piece of paper with a pencil can draw out the map of his entire destiny ahead then he’ll have it finished in one night. But he’s grown out of his middle school self to know that things don’t always go as planned.

Guess if things turn out to be shit, you’ll still have him.

“Does that mean if we’re still single in our thirties, you’ll marry me like how our parents always joke about?” Felix cracks a shit-eating grin this time, one that makes your heart swell but for the most part, you wanna whack him unconscious with a pillow. 

You sneer in return, “Sure, but you’ll have to fall for me first.”

There’s a pang in Felix’s chest, it’s so loud and evident that he’s afraid you might hear it. You really didn’t have to slap him in the face with that seemingly harmless statement. “Hmm, who would even fall for a stubborn hermit crab like you?” he jokes to hide the nervousness that’s crawling upon his spine. His ears are probably bright red right now. “Although...that wouldn’t be a problem with me.” Because he’s already fallen for you, a little too hard actually.

“What does that even mean?” you only hum after questioning his statement, nothing makes sense right now since you’re getting a little sleepy because a certain someone wanted to watch the sunrise which simply lasted for about two minutes after two(ish) hours of waiting.

“I don’t know,” Felix laughs before standing up, dusting the sand off of his jeans. “You go figure it out, smartass.” With that, he runs off with his Converses dangling between his fingers, leaving you dumbfounded in the middle of the beach like a total dimwit. Slowly, within those five seconds of making eye contact with your best friend again, his words zero in on you like a wakeup call. 

Urgently grabbing your sneakers, you chase after him. “Hey- wait! GET BACK HERE!” By looks of it, you’ve probably figured it out now. It’s not like he’s trying to be subtle either.

Felix feels like he just gained strength from spewing out that indirect confession, and it gives him a tiny ray of hope that he still has his entire youth before his eyes to tell you how he really feels. Or his whole life if you don’t start resenting him for crossing the line that no one dares talk about when they have a thing for their best friend. 

Either way, as long as Felix sees your presence side by side with him at every ups and downs, he’s home. 

#skzwritersclub #inkidz #stayshub #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #lee felix #lee felix scenarios #lee felix imagines #lee felix fluff #felix scenarios #felix imagines #bang chan fanfic #lee minho imagines #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung fluff #kim Seungmin #yang jeongin #felix x reader #felix x you #skz high school au

[rudysrings]

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 6

A/N: Shortest part yet, but I promise more is coming tomorrow and I just couldn’t bring myself to figure out a good stopping place other than here :)

Warnings: underage drinking, cursing...I think that’s it for this one? 

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

The next morning, you guys took out the HMS Pogue, before realizing the only way you could figure out the location of the wreck and with it, the gold, was to get access to the internet and plug in the coordinates.

Of course, with the power out on the Cut, there was no way you could get online from home. JJ worked as a busboy at one of the fancy hotels on the kook side, and offered to let you guys in.

As always, the familiar warmth of the sun felt nice on your skin. Somehow, after the events of yesterday, it felt like forever since you guys had just hung out on the boat—tanning, swimming, drinking.

You felt uncomfortable today, uninterested in your usual bikinis and shorts. Instead, you borrowed one of your brother’s long-sleeved shirts, usually saved for the winter, and pulled on some faded, worn skinny jeans over your bikini bottoms.

Of course, Kiara noticed, giving your ass a friendly slap as she asked, “What’s with the fit today?”

You threw an arm over her shoulder, hers circling your waist as you walked towards the van. “I just wasn’t feelin’ it today.”

“You’re gonna get real hot, real fast. It’s breaking 100 today.”

“I’ve got my suit under. If worse comes to worse, I’ll just strip down to that.”

“Suit yourself.”

It was rare that you felt insecure. You weren’t ashamed of your physical appearance, no. It might’ve been the realization that your dad had intentionally abandoned you that had shaken you so much. You were feeling vulnerable already and being exposed all day would be a physical manifestation of your fear.

You were quieter than normal, but the pogues didn’t question it, noticing the opposite in John B. It was as if last night had given your brother purpose, something concrete he could actually put his mind to, rather than wonder for days on end.

Once inside, you guys had found out it was about 900ft down, almost off the deep end, but reachable. Though not totally legal, the pogues hatched a plan to ‘borrow’ the drone from the salvage yard that JJ’s dad used to work for.

You asked if you could sit this one out, and, taking one look at your defeated figure, no one disagreed. “I’m going to go and try and write for a bit today, alright?”

You had been a part of a band with a few kids from school, scoring gigs here and there to scrape in whatever money you could. It allowed you a living while doing something you loved at the same time. You were thankful for it, and for Kiara’s dad, who made sure you knew that the band was always welcome to play at the Wreck and earn something for the time they performed. Part of it had to do with the fact that the band always improved business, people staying longer for dessert just to hear you play one more set, but part of it was that he just liked you. Though you were just as crazy, if not crazier than the other pogues, it was easy to see that you had an idea for your future and that’s all that Mr. Carrera ever wanted for his daughter. Though the band had broken up before the summer, with both the drummer and the lead guitarist having graduated high school and moved out of the outer banks for college, you still wrote from time to time. It was your own sort of therapy, the cathartic ritual of trying to reach somewhere within your mind to actually create something. 

Kiara grinned. “Yeah! You should definitely come down to the wreck later tonight; it’s karaoke night!”

You assured her you wouldn’t miss it for the world.

John B gave you a pat on the back as you exited the van. They dropped you off at the Chateau and drove off, JJ shooting finger guns at you and making you smile.

You spent the day at the Chateau, working through your songs and nursing a rare bottle of old wine you had managed to hide from the others underneath your bathroom cabinet. 

You contemplated the last few days, not just about how unloved you felt by your parents, but also the growing thing between you and a certain blonde haired boy. 

You smiled as you strummed the guitar that your brother had given you for your thirteenth birthday as you remembered when you and JJ had first met. 

The third grade was hard enough without a twin brother that radiated energy, leaving you looking like the evil twin who lived in the shadows and collected the limbs of barbies in different containers. Which you did, but you didn’t expect to be so ostracized for it. 

You were alone that day at recess, walking across the black top with your arms hugging yourself. Your dad had done a poor job of helping you with your hair, leaving it a stringy mess across your back. 

Suddenly, your face met the ground and you groaned, turning your head to see a halo of gold behind you. You blinked quickly, pushing yourself up to see a blonde boy with crooked teeth apologizing profusely. 

“Dude! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, this guy—”

You noticed something in his hand. A Gameboy?

Behind him, a pudgy boy with a sweater vest and khaki shorts was quickly approaching and you soon understood what was going on. So this blonde little boy was a thief?

On instinct, you grabbed the gameboy from the blonde boy and shoved it in your backpack as his attacker came running up. 

He shoved the blonde boy to the ground and shouted. “Where is it? You took it, you thief!”

Furious at the violent treatment of the blonde, even though he had stolen, you threw yourself at the bully, your nails scratching him. 

In the end, all of you got in trouble, but when you walked to the bus that day, you gave the blonde boy the game boy and invited him to your place, where you had your own. He gave you a wicked smile, before giving you a big hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, pretty. I’m JJ.”

You didn’t know why, but you had always been protective of the boy, without a single good reason. He had always hidden his best qualities, but maybe some part of you recognized a part of yourself in him instantly. A kindred spirit of sorts. A hotheaded mess that was awful at suppressing his emotions but didn’t know how to deal with them any other way. A boy that would do anything for his friends. You didn’t know it at the time, but you found a mirrored version of yourself in that nine year old boy, and you brought him home with you. 

At sunset, you gave up on your songwriting. You had made little progress anyways, instead heading to the Wreck as you promised Kiara. 

When you walked in, the pogues were already shoving their faces happily after a long day. Kiara gave you a huge smile and beckoned you in to hear what had gone down. 

You gave JJ a kiss on the cheek for no reason at all, and he blushed, quipping, “Hey, wifey!”

You pulled your brother and Pope in for a big hug, feeling nostalgic after your lingering thoughts of childhood memories today. 

Before the pogues could comment on your drastically improved mood and sudden need for affection, you suggested that you all get started on karaoke before downing a beer, getting all of them excited.

You danced with Pope John B’s awful, fast-paced rapping of fifty-cent, but that was the point of karaoke, you guessed. 

Pope twirled you, before grabbing your hands and pulling you towards him, shaking his head in a silly fashion. You threw your head back and laughed, catching JJ smiling at the sight from his seat. 

You continued dancing with Pope as Kiara kept vibing on her own a few feet away. She finally had enough of John B’s voice and stole the microphone from him, replacing his screeching with her gorgeous velvet tones as she began singing her go to — Come and Get Your Love. You watched as JJ finally stood up, striding over shyly, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, raising his eyebrows at you in question. You let John B whisk Pope away as you pulled JJ to you by his forearms. 

You turned around, letting him cage you from behind as you swayed within the comfort of his arms. John B and Pope were waltzing beside you, making you chuckle. 

JJ sang softly to some of the lyrics, so low that you barely heard, only catching some when he bent close to your ears. “What’s the matter with your mind...And you’re mine, and you look so divine...If you want some, take some.” You tried to keep down the goosebumps, but of course, you failed, the fluttering of emotions you always tried to bury making its way up your throat. Or was that the alcohol?

He dropped his head to your shoulder, smiling as his hair brushed your collarbone. “You smell nice.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows and turned in his arms. “I haven’t even showered today!” 

JJ shrugged. “You always smell nice.”

The beer made you giggle, “Do I? Are you getting soft on me, Maybank? You dance and sniff girls’ hair now?”

JJ scoffed, before saying. “Soft? Me? Get outta here, Trouble.” He added smoothly, “And it’s only your hair I sniff.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That’s a little stalkerish, don’t you think? Should I be concerned? C’mon Bear, you’ve gotta live up to your rep.”

JJ shook his head, pulling you back towards him so that you were chest to chest, forced to wrap your arms around him to keep your balance. “Fuck that, just dance with me for fuck’s sake.”

You felt Kiara’s eyes on you, smiling as she moved on to another song. 

Eventually, you got tired and let Kiara pull you away from the guys for a breath of fresh air. 

You walked across the beach, arms crossed over your abdomen. Kiara kept looking at you with that teasing smile and you finally had enough. “What?”

Kiara shook her head. “Nothing, just, you know it’s kind of obvious? You’re so thick headed sometimes, but you clearly –”

“Have feelings for JJ?” You finished for her. She looked at you in surprise as you turned back to the waves. “I’m not so thick-headed. I know what I feel. I’m not stupid.”

She nudged your side, giggling. “Well, he’s really feeling you, too. Like all the butterflies and shit, I swear.” Kiara gave you jazz hands, emphasizing the jittery feeling of a crush.

You smiled. “Yeah, I know.” You knew JJ liked you. You knew it in the way he was always looking out for you, no matter what was going on or what he was doing, his focus was involuntarily always on you. Even your own twin brother didn’t pay that much attention to you. There had always been a tension in the air between you two, a sort of understanding of mutual attraction. It weighed heavy, not just in the air, but on your shoulders, on your heart. Because you knew that you couldn’t let anything come of it. 

Kiara stopped, holding your elbow to keep you from walking any further. She looked confused. “Then why don’t you do anything about it? The rule’s bullshit, anyways.”

You took a deep breath, looking at your friend with heavy guilt as you tried to put into words why you knew that it was a bad idea. “Because we’re so similar. Neither of us have our heads screwed on right. We’d eventually destroy each other. And the worst part is...After the chaos, I wouldn’t have my best friend to help me pick up the pieces.” You shrugged. “I figure if there’s one time in my life I’m going to think before I act, it’s with this. Because this is one of the most important things in my life and I know there wouldn’t be any coming back from that.”

Kiara opened and closed her mouth multiple times, before finally asking, “But what if it works out? What if you create something beautiful?”

You laughed in denial, your throat tight. “It wouldn’t, Kie. It kills me to say it, but I know myself. I can’t be what he needs. I can’t bank on what ifs, anyways.”

Kiara pulled you towards her, wrapping you in a warm embrace. She looked behind you at the guys, who, from the looks of things, were beginning to get suspicious of you guys.

You and Kiara began walking back. Right before the two of you were within earshot of the rest of the pogues, Kiara took your hand and said to you, with complete surety, “For the record, Y/N, I think you guys are being idiots. You were lucky enough to find something real and you’re throwing it away. Because what? Because you’re scared? I just—I just don’t get it.” She scoffed, shaking her head as walking back inside, leaving you back at square one, wondering if you were being foolish and cowardly.

Masterlist

Tag List (If there is a strike through your user it’s bc I couldn’t tag you bc tumblr is wack sometimes...)

@hurricane-abigail @omigodyall​ @timotaychalabae​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​@caswinchester2000​ @meghanisdeadinside​ @harrysbbby​ @official-maddibrown @xdelicates@maybebanks@yourwonderbelle @treestarrrrrrrr @loco-latte@sspidermanss@theradvibes @eviction-notice-no666@screamingnewsies @the-fandom-life-forever @dolanfivsosxox@vibin-n-thrivin @em-aesthe  @the-real-jort @riverdaleserpent04@free-pool-trash @mileven-reddie @drewswannabegirl@queen1054 @eternalharry@alwayshopelesss @superqalifragilistik@smileyxdolans@fangirling-all-day @dianaillusion@catonthesideoftheroad @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise​ @thelovelydreamer17 @http-cherries​ @pit-zuh​ @kisssmefree​ @starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies​ @outerbankstings​ @oliviadrake1​

I’m also kind of new to tagging and rlly bad at it so if something is wrong, I’m sorry and pls let me know and I’ll try my best to fix it!

I also lost my updated tag list i’m so dumb so let me know if I told you i would tag you and i didn’t oop

Stay safe and stay healthy!

#jj #jj maybank #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks series #obi wan kenobi #obx fanfiction #obx series #outer banks imagines #obx imagines #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #john b x reader #john b x sister!reader #john b x twin!sister reader #jj x reader #jj x you #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank series #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank self insert #kiara carrera #pope heyward #john b

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

Lucky Galleon

“Vic, look at this!”

Victoire looked up from her task, which had been to collect large stones from the bottom of the creek. She was knee deep in the cool water as it rushed around her legs. It was an extraordinarily hot day, and she’d volunteered to be the one to find rocks in the creek for that very reason. Teddy, meanwhile, was searching for twigs in the copse of trees by the creek, but was now holding something in his hand and waving it at her with some air of excitement.

“What is it?” she called.

“Come have a look!”

She sighed and trudged her way back to the edge of the creek and walked over to where Teddy was standing, her knees dripping. “What?”

“D’you reckon this is a Galleon?” he asked, his turquoise hair glinting in the sunlight.

She took the round thing from his hand and examined it herself. It was certainly the same shape and size as a Galleon, but that was the extent she could discern, as the thing was positively caked with mud. “It could be…”

She turned on her heel and walked back over to the creek, Teddy hot on her heels. She kneeled and dipped it in the cool water, scraping the dirt off with her fingernails. The more she scraped, the more golden metal she revealed.

“It is!” she squealed. “It’s a Galleon!”

“Wicked,” Teddy grinned.

“Should we go and tell the others? Maybe we can convince Nana to buy us some ice cream with it or—“

“Hold on, there,” said Teddy, holding up his hands. “There are how many midgets back there who would want some ice cream too?”

Victoire folded her arms and glanced back down at the Galleon, which would amount to nothing if it was spent on her numerous cousins constructing a fort in the backyard of the Burrow. “That's true...”

“I’ve been saving up for that Fanged Frisbee, you know…” said Teddy, smiling slyly at her and holding out his hand.

She closed her fist around the dirtied coin. “Well, I’ve been saving for a Pygmy Puff, you know that!”

“Well, I did find it,” Teddy pointed out.

“I cleaned it off,” Victoire countered.

“Finders keepers.”

“Losers weepers.”

Teddy laughed. “What if we flipped it? Dragons you keep it, Goblins I do.”

Victoire considered this. “Well alright then. But I’m warning you, my dad says I’m dead lucky.”

“Alright, you’ve warned me. You flip it then, go on.”

She took the coin and tossed it in the air. It landed with a small thud, and they both peered at the coin through the layer of dirt still stubbornly clinging to the metal.

She could make out the faint outline of a dragon, face up.

She grinned widely while Teddy groaned. “Ha! I’ll have my Pygmy Puff before the summer’s out. I told you I was lucky.”

“Yeah, yeah…” sighed Teddy. “You did.”

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

Teddy’s heart was beating rather quickly as his grandmother pulled him into her fifteenth hug of the morning and reminded him to behave, as though he’d professed a desire to blow up the train or something.

“Grandmum, I’m going to be fine,” he insisted. He wished he felt as confident as his tone suggested.

“I know you will,” she said, turning and wiping her eyes discreetly. Teddy’s stomach, which was already feeling rather queasy, dropped a bit further. He wondered what his grandmother would do when she returned to the now empty house they had shared for the last eleven years.

“I’ll write all the time, I promise,” he reminded her.

She shook her head, her grey eyes staring sadly. “Look at you, comforting me. We’ve gone and got this all wrong, I’m meant to be the one telling you that I’ll write.”

Teddy grinned. “Well, that goes without saying, doesn’t it?”

Andromeda clicked her tongue. “The cheek. Of course it does.” She looked up and smiled, speaking to someone behind Teddy. “There you are, I thought you’d forgotten.”

Teddy turned to see his godfather emerging from behind a large family saying their goodbyes. To his surprise, he was pulling along a miserable-looking Victoire Weasley. Teddy heard the familiar buzz of families around him as they recognized Harry, but Teddy, far too used to it, ignored them.

“I’d never forget today,” Harry said, smiling down at Teddy and pulling him in for a quick but firm hug. “How’re you feeling?”

“Great!” he lied. “Brilliant!”

Harry gave him one of those looks that made Teddy feel sure that he saw right through him, but Teddy deflected further inquiry by speaking to Victoire, instead, who had been trying her best to look pleased but was failing miserably. “I didn’t know you were coming, Vic!”

“I asked Uncle Harry yesterday if he wouldn’t mind bringing me. You don’t mind, do you?” she said, sounding suddenly worried.

If Teddy were being completely honest, he wasn’t exactly thrilled that she was there. Not that he wasn’t happy to see her, of course. But he didn’t want her to see him in this state, in which he was barely disguising his growing panic. He’d been excited for this, hadn’t he? He remembered counting down the days to this moment for months. But now, it all felt completely absurd. He was about to get on a train and leave his family until Christmas, to a school where he knew absolutely nobody? He was only eleven, for Merlin’s sake. Whose idea was this? But he couldn’t say any of that, so he opted for a not-entirely-truthful, but far simpler, “Of course I don’t mind! Thanks for seeing me off.”

Victoire gave him a small smile, though she still looked sad. “Are you excited to go?”

Teddy glanced up at Harry and his grandmother, who were now chatting and didn’t seem to be paying them too much attention. “Well…” he stared down at his shoes. “I was.”

He looked back up at her and she seemed to understand what he was getting at. She usually did. “I wish I was going with you.”

“Me too,” he said honestly.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Harry, staring down at him. “Can’t believe you’re already going, mate. I’m going to miss you.”

Teddy felt a lump in his throat and tried to pass it off, acutely aware that Victoire was still staring at him. “You’ve got the little squirts to keep you busy.”

Harry smiled, though his eyes looked sad. “Yes, I do. Doesn’t mean I won’t miss you coming round for dinner, though.”

Teddy tried to smile but didn’t quite manage it. He felt tears welling up behind his eyes.

Harry leaned down so that he was eye-level. “You’re going to have a great time, Teddy. Your family will still be here when you come back, alright?”

Teddy nodded, because it was all he could manage. Harry pulled him into another hug, and Teddy felt that Harry was trying to put a lot of unsaid things into it. Teddy gripped his godfather tightly, forgetting for a moment that he was trying to pretend he wasn’t worried about this departure at all. Harry looked close to tears himself when he finally let go. “Your mum and dad would be so proud of you.”

“They would?” he asked hopefully.

Harry nodded. “I know it.”

“You’d best get going,” Andromeda said, disguising her own tears rather badly as well. “Don’t want the train to leave without you.”

She gave him another hug, and whispered a fervent, “Be good,” in his ear.

Harry patted him on the shoulder and said, “You’d better write me right away to tell me where you get Sorted.”

Teddy nodded. He turned to Victoire to find that tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Vic…”

She sniffled. “Have… have fun.”

“I’ll try…” He wanted to say something comforting to her, but had no idea what to say. He’d never been good when she cried.

Quite suddenly, she threw her little arms around him and said, “We’ll still be friends when you come back, right?”

“Wha—of course we will!” Teddy cried, feeling quite alarmed and patting her awkwardly on the back. “Don’t be stupid, we’re always going to be friends.”

She released him, her bright blue eyes sparkling with tears. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he said.

She nodded and pulled something from her pocket. She pressed it into his hand and said, “Good luck,” with a watery smile. Teddy looked down and saw she had given him a dirty golden Galleon.

He smiled at her and slipped it into his pocket. “Think it’ll give me some of your luck, then?”

She laughed. “I thought you’d use it to buy some Chocolate Frogs.”

The train whistled behind him. Smiling a small, sad smile at Victoire, and waving to his grandmother and his godfather, he couldn’t help but feel that he was already pretty lucky himself.

But… the Galleon couldn’t hurt.

#fanfic #ted x victoire #this is random #but here it is anyway

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.7 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch knows he can't really depend on the kindness of strangers, but oh, sometimes he wishes he could.

~~*~~

Read ‘The Kindness of Strangers’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was with a heavy, weird-ass book in hand that Stretch returned to the heat of the afternoon. This time he made haste getting back to the store while his knees were cooperating, almost jogging on the sidewalk and waving to any regular customers as he passed. The sun was on its downward path by now and the strollers were out in full force, the Human moms and pops pushing them hardly paying him any mind past a ‘good afternoon’ as he went by.

His knees were back to the wibble-wobbles when he slipped through the door, the bell announcing him with a muted clank. The first thing he noticed was that Red wasn’t behind the counter. He was standing at the back of the store, leaning on his cane and blocking off the hallway that led to both their living quarters. Yeah, that looked like insurance that Stretch couldn’t hurry on past him upstairs; Red wasn’t quick, but he also wasn’t stupid, and Stretch could feel his hard gaze scrutinizing him from across the store.

Wonderbar.

Stretch pasted on a grin and tried to act like someone who hadn’t been recently felt up by Red’s little brother in the public library. Not that Red said that he couldn’t, but some things, (for example, random groping) could probably be inferred.

“hey, what’s up?” Stretch said brightly.

“my bro called,” Red said bluntly, and Stretch’s feeble hopes deflated like yesterday’s party balloon. So much for discretion.

“i can explain,” Stretch blurted, “it wasn’t my idea, seriously, i was only—"

Red interrupted him with an amused snort. “easy, kid, don’t haul out your guilty conscience on my account. all he did was give me the gist of things, said you had yourself an unexpected adventure.” Red jerked his head towards the hallway. “g’wan, string bean, you can use my bathroom. take a shower and cool off.”

A cool shower pouring down on his dirty, sweaty bones sounded like Eden itself right about now, apple not included.

“thanks,” Stretch said gratefully. He skirted around Red, who didn’t move, only squatted there like a grouchy stump in the middle of the doorway while Stretch squeezed around him. Must be tempering his kindness with a little extra asshole to keep things even.

On his way to showerland, Stretch took a quick detour to leave the book on the coffee table amidst the clutter. Maybe he could ask Red about it, get the cliff notes version.

The shower in the downstairs bathroom was stuck with the same crappy water heater as upstairs, not that it mattered since Stretch was about ready to cuddle with an iceberg to cool off. Added bonus, the showerhead was a lot better and it managed to crank the feeble water pressure up to its max. There was a cheap plastic stool sitting in the tub, way too short for Stretch. He sat on it anyway, knees almost up to his chin as the cool water poured down on him and washed away the sweat and filth.

He was shivering a little by the time he was done, dragging a ratty towel over his dripping bones. The pile of his clothes was missing and there a new folded bundle sitting on the closed toilet lid. He must’ve been out of it more than he thought, he’d never even heard Red coming in. Unless laundry fairies were a thing and wasn’t that idea a lot more pertinent than it was yesterday.

Stretch picked up the bundle and part of it fell on the floor. Pajama pants, luckily not a pair of Red’s although it might’ve been hilarious to see Stretch wandering around like a scrawny hulk who sprouted upward out of his clothes instead of sideways. They were red plaid flannel and worn to the stage of being shiny at the knees and elbows. Probably an old pair of Edge’s, the fit was pretty close and not too many Humans wore their waistband quite as skinny as a guy without a waist.

(he was not getting a cheap thrill out of wearing a pair of Edge’s pajamas, no matter what his libido was trying to tell him)

He wandered out into Red’s living room, still squeegeeing his skull dry with the damp towel, and saw the sofa was made up with some blankets and a pillow, the television remote set helpfully in reach.

“you done?” Red’s voice echoed up from the store and his peculiar gait made its way down the hallway until he appeared again in the doorway. “then lay down and turn on the boob tube, zone out awhile. you’ll feel better.”

“what did your brother tell you?” Stretch asked. Not that he wasn’t willing to do what he was told. The couch was saggy in the middle, but the blankets were clean and smelling of laundry detergent. They felt blissfully cozy after the cold shower.

“said you met edgar allen,” Red said. “under less than stellar circumstances, i’m guessin’, since i don’t think ya got an invite for a meet and greet with the local scarecrow.”

This time his shiver had nothing to do with the temperature. Edgar Allen was an okay guy, (guy?) but Stretch was still on the fence about the corn’s attitude problems. “not exactly, no. thanks for the heads up, by the way.”

Red tilted his skull to one side, baffled, “heads up about what?”

“i dunno,” Stretch leaned up on an elbow to see him better and hopefully increase the effect of his dirty look, “maybe when you’re warning me off from the local landmarks, you could’ve touch on that fact that a stroll through the fields might involve the corn trying to hold me as a captive audience?”

“naaah,” Red scoffed. Stretch didn’t miss the way he absently started picking at his gold tooth; that was a nervous tell right there and maybe all this wasn’t just concern but dealing with a little guilt that Stretch’s latest town bonding experience was less than top notch. “that's why the damn scarecrow is there t'begin with. ‘sides, even without him you’d have gotten out before dark. anyway, never expected you to go tromping off into the corn in search of a maze, sorry i misgauged the direction of your dumbass.”

“no, i’m sorry, not your fault.” Stretch couldn’t hold back a yawn so wide it nearly split his skull, yeesh, it wasn’t even dinner time and he was ready to sleep for a week. The imaginary hamster running on the wheel in his head wasn’t quite as ready and it decided to race back to thoughts of Edge sitting in the library, alone. Researching he’d said, so intent on his books from the so-called restricted section, like a bargain basement Hogwarts. “hey, what does your brother do?”

“mostly he’s a pain in my ass.”

It was said with great feeling and Stretch snerked out a laugh. Yeah, kinda a universal trait with little brothers. “no, seriously, i mean, for a living, what does he do?”

Red shifted his feet, his cane scraping the floor. “why are ya askin’?”

“curious. bored,” Stretch shrugged, “take your pick.” He didn’t really want to explain to Red that his brother wasn’t just a sexy pair of legs in boots anymore, (but those hips would never be forgotten). He was interesting, no, fascinating. This whole town was turning out to be some kind of puzzle and it seemed to him that Edge might be a big piece. He’d said that figuring out Backwater was a fool’s errand, but he’d never met Stretch’s kind of fool before.

“kid—” Red sighed and that resigned tone snapped Stretch out of his whimsies. He cringed internally. What was he even trying to do here, he owed Red so much and not just for the job, and here he was digging for information about his bro after Red already warned him off, not once, but twice, so maybe what he was really digging was his own grave, if he didn’t knock it off.

“nevermind,” Stretch said hurriedly. “i shouldn’t’ve asked, none of my business, i get it.”

Red shook his head. “that ain’t it.”

Stretch tried on a little laugh, ha ha, see, it wasn’t that big a deal, right? “look, the state of your brother’s ass aside, i get it. that’s your little brother, and i didn’t forget what you said. we only bumped into each other at the library, i’m really not trying to get into his pants.”

He left off on making it a promise; he was telling the truth, but why take the chance on not keeping it.

He didn’t expected the hand that suddenly scruffed over his skull, like the noogies he used to give to Blue when he was little…well, okay, Blue was still little but noogieing was off the table since he’d started his guard training.

This wasn’t like that childish roughhousing, Red’s knuckles only scraped softly along his coronal sutures. “no, kid, you don’t get it. my bro can handle himself, it ain’t him i’m worried about. but you? don’t ya got the feeling you ain’t up to any new affairs of the soul right now? might want to take it easy awhile.”

That unexpectedly gruff kindness made tears sting in his sockets. Stretch guiltily leaned into that touch to absorb every drop, and how was it he could accept it from Red when he couldn’t take it from his own brother? “i don’t get you. you barely even know me. why are you so nice to me?”

Red huffed out a laugh. “you want i should be an asshole? okay, but i gotta warn ya, i’m a contender when it comes to dick moves.”

“thanks, but you can keep your dick in your pants.”

“your loss.”

“seriously, though, what i mean is. i just don’t get it. this place is so weird, but everyone is nice.” It didn’t exactly line up with Stretch’s view of the world. His brother was always nice sure and Snowdin hadn’t been too bad, if you didn’t count the fact that all his friends were from drinking his nights away at Muffet’s. The surface world ran about fifty-fifty with Monsters being on the kinder side of the scale…until he got dumped and found out he lost all his friends in the divorce, how was that for loyalty.

Red only chuckled. “now you’ve gone and cursed yourself. can’t say everyone is nice, you ain’t met everyone yet.”

That was true, fuck, he hoped the universe wasn’t listening and if it was, that it didn’t decide to drum up a little drama. “red?”

“yeah, kid?”

Stretch craned his head back on the pillow and met Red’s crimson gaze upside-down. “thank you for being nice.”

“don’t tell anyone. i’ll lose my resident asshole status.

“secret is safe with me, promise.” Stretch yawned again and the cow bell suddenly jangled loudly out front, startling them both.

Red shouted. “yeah, i’m coming!” He tossed over his shoulder back at Stretch, “take tomorrow off, sleep in, you ain’t had a day off since ya got here.”

“thanks, boss.”

Stretch started to settle in, nap ahoy, captain, hard to starboard and all that, and his eye lights snagged on the book. Shit, he forgot to ask Red about it. Probably didn’t matter, Red’s ingredient label kinda went equal parts of cryptic and cryptid, so he probably wasn’t gonna give the right answers even if Stretch figured out what to ask.

Wait.

If Red and Edge want to share the part of the local Obi-Wan with their mysterious ways, that was fine. He already had the perfect person lined up to ask about the town’s history. Well, part of a person, anyway, the most important part.

Plan formed, Stretch turned on the television and snuggled into the blankets, letting the dulcet tones of Pat Sajak lull him to sleep.

He didn’t dream.

~~*~~

The next day, Stretch headed over to the theater bright and early, still munching on the muffin Red handed off to him as he settled on the stool for the day with his latest book, this one with a bare-chested pirate embracing a busty Human woman as the ocean sprayed up over the hull over them. Seemed to Stretch that would be less smokin’ sexytimes and more cold and wet, but what did he know, his closest encounter with the ocean was extra salt on his Applebee’s margarita.

“thanks, mom,” Stretch said as he took the little paper lunch bag Red held out to him. Red only grunted and didn’t look up from his book. In the midst of rummaging for his tasty free breakfast, Stretch hesitated at the front door.

He felt a little guilty even though Red was the one who told him to take the day. Before he started working at the store, was Red really sitting there all day long, twelve hours of a cash register and customers while he drank beer and soaked up a little romance language in the form of a cheap paperback?

Not that Stretch was judging, hell, if that made Red happy, more power to him. Still, there had to be more to his life than that, didn’t there? Maybe he’d see if Mitch sold sudoku pads at the gas station, pick him up one along with a six-pack. Hard to guess if they carried that kind of entertainment; Mitch was either some kind of crossword grand champion or the kind of guy who ate ketchup on his cheerios and Stretch still wasn’t sure which.

The first movie showing wasn’t for another hour, but Igor didn’t make a fuss when Stretch asked him if he could go sit down early. (and holy shit, the proprietor’s name was actually Igor? He wasn’t sure if the guy’s parents hated him or if the universe sense of irony rolled a natural D20 when it hit this town.)

Igor only grunted and handed over two cups of popcorn without being asked, handing back a crumpled dollar in change. Aww, Stretch had a usual, see, he was settling into town just fine, suck it, Edge.

(don’t think it, don’t think it, don’t think it…)

Stretch made his way to the theater to his regular seat, propping his sneakers up on the chair in front of him. The popcorn he set aside for now, it wasn’t exactly his idea of a breakfast treat and that muffin Red gave him was still settling into his magic. To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure if Doris could show up very long before the movie. He was no expert, but he did know that ghosts could have some peculiar rules about manifesting. Hopefully this wouldn’t mess with her morning routine, whatever it was.

He didn’t have to wait long. Maybe Doris could sense him or maybe she could just feel it when a living person came into the theater. She slowly came into focus next to him, pale ectoplasm coalescing, and the already cool air chilled even further.

Doris happily sniffed at her popcorn as she said, whispery soft, “Good morning, Stretch, you’re here very early.”

“yeah, took the day off work,” Stretch said. His voice sounded too loud in the empty theater, not even the elevator music was playing yet. “i need your help with something.”

He might as well have flipped Doris’s switch to ‘on’. She lit up, a smile curving her pretty mouth and seeming more solid than ever. The seat behind her was barely visible through her pale pink dress as she said eagerly, “Of course, anything that I can do.”

So that was how Stretch came to tell her the story about Edgar Allen. He didn’t leave out any details, including the bit about the kids shouting at him not to go in the field, the corn closing in around him in a dizzying maze of green, Edgar Allen’s assistance, and Edge’s cryptic warning that the scarecrow would disappear with the harvest.

Doris listened to it all raptly, her eyes wide and startlingly blue, and she never flickered once the entire time. The only unsettling sight was a single trickle of blood running down the side of her face, gathering in a heavy droplet on her chin.

“My, that sounds terrifying,” Doris breathed, unaware of the irony of her saying that while a slender thread of ghostly blood ran down her cheek. The droplet swelled fatly, growing until it finally fell with a plip onto her dress, leaving behind a perfectly round spot that would slowly vanish, only to be replaced by the next drop.

It didn’t really bother Stretch much anymore; he was getting used to it and an old memory of blood was nothing compared to his recent woes. “yeah, it was spooky all right.”

“But I’m not sure I can help you,” Doris continued sadly, “There wasn’t a scarecrow in my day, not that I remember. But the corn. Yes. That I recall.” She shivered delicately and her chair let out a strange groan of springs. “A person could get lost for days in the corn. I remember…” Her already faint voice went softer and Stretch strained to hear her, her gaze distant. “I remember one year at harvest time, they found a skeleton in the field, it was awful. Oh!” She gasped and pressed a gloved hand to her mouth, “I’m so sorry, it was a dead person, not a skeleton like you!”

“no offense taken,” Stretch assured her. He slouched down in his seat even more and waggled his feet, his untied shoelaces laces bobbing against the seatback “huh. so at least one person died out in the corn.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember much about it,” Doris admitted. “whoever it was, they weren’t local.”

“uh huh.” An outsider, then, like him, getting munched up by the corn triffids. “who owns the corn fields, anyway?”

“I…” she hesitated, then apologetically. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’ve forgotten or if I never knew.”

Another mystery. If he was gonna play at Sherlock Holmes, he really needed to start taking notes. Maybe get a pipe.

“welp, either way, edgar allen bro out there saved my ass,” Stretch told her. He picked up a piece of popcorn and didn’t eat it, only crumpled it between his fingers and let the mangled bits fall to the floor, “and he’s gonna die come harvest time. i feel like i owe it to him to at least hear his story, you know? edge wouldn’t tell me much, just gave me that book and a scavenger hunt.”

“This Edge person doesn’t sound very nice,” Doris said disapprovingly. Her mouth pulled down into a frown that flashed briefly to a bloody smear. “Is he local?”

“kinda? he’s a monster like me, so he could only have been in town for a coupla years. since we came to the surface, anyway.”

Sudden relief washed over Doris’s pretty face. “He’s not a human, then.”

“nope, he’s another skeleton monster.” That seemed to satisfy her. Note to self, Doris wasn’t real keen on Humans, in a way that didn’t seem like it was only about the way they ran away when they got a good look at her. That mystery wasn’t all too mysterious, not with a big, bloody clue flickering in and out of view like a gory version of a kid’s flipbook. If that was a going away present from another Human, he didn’t blame her for being wary. He wondered if she’d met Edge before but Stretch hesitated to bring up that idea, or to mention Red; he didn’t want her to feel bad if she didn’t remember. “yep, another skeleton monster in town. he’s kinda rough around the edges, but he’s okay.”

“Okay, is that all?” Doris said with unexpected mischievousness, “he didn’t sound simply ‘okay’ when you were describing him.”

A blush flared hotly in his cheekbones and Stretch hunched down in his seat, weirdly embarrassed in a way he hadn’t been with Red. At least Red could see what he was staring at, Doris only had him waxing poetically about Edge’s hips to go by, and Shakespeare he wasn’t.

“yeah, yeah,” Stretch grumbled, and damn, he should’ve brought along his hoodie, at least he could’ve hidden from the laughter shining in her translucent eyes. She had a dimple in the cheek on her good side and it deepened as Stretch admitted, “could be that i enjoy the view. but that’s it, okay? just a little sightseeing, i don’t need any souvenirs.”

“Uh huh,” Doris clicked her tongue thoughtfully, “Stretch, my mama always told me you can’t hurry up a good time by waiting for it.”

Other people were starting to come into the theater now. One of them gave him a curious look, but they didn’t stop, only followed the others down to the front row.

“the only time i’m looking for is in the nick of,” Stretch sighed. “guess there’s no way around it, i’ll have to read the book.”

He should’ve known not to try to find an easy way out; seemed like all his shortcuts had abandoned him, lately.

Doris laid a hand on his arm and a sudden chill sank its teeth in deep enough for his bones to ache. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help,” Doris said softly.

“nah, you helped plenty,” Stretch told her. She had. Now he knew that scarecrows were slightly more recent, at least within the past century and that maybe the cornfield wasn’t quiet as safe as it’d been played off to be. At least a cornfield without Edgar Allen in it.

The lights started dimming, the first credits beginning to roll. His popcorn was cold, the butter congealing it into clumps of greasy blobs that stuck to his fingers. Stretch ate it anyway, hey, it cost him a dollar, and laughed with Doris as Buster Keaton escaped from a bumbling crowd of cops by grabbing onto a passing car.

His phone was in his pocket, tucked in deep and only lightly pressing against his femur through the thin cloth of his shorts. It vibrated once in a quick, staccato burst while the movie was playing but Stretch ignored it.

That was one lesson he’d learned very well while they still lived under the mountain; if you focused on the task at hand, you didn’t have to think about the ones you left behind.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #welcome to backwater

[inkblotsandpapertrails]

Heart of Stone {R.H.} [Pt 3] (The Medda Interlude)

Warnings: none

Pairing: Racetrack Higgins x Reader

Description: You didn’t agree with your brothers much. You didn’t like how they treated people or handled emotions and etcetera. But you could all agree that the Delancey’s were a proud family. A strong family. You didn’t get close to people, you didn’t show emotion, you didn’t let anyone have power over you, no matter what, because that made you weak. Except for the pretty newsboy with the foghorn voice and smart jokes, apparently.

A/N: okay. okay. so i know i have been MIA for a while but i have a good reason!! i’ve been working on a lot of WIPs and trying to perfect this next update. the first part of this update was very quick and easy while still having some decent character development (in my own personal opinion) however, the next part turned out to be crazy long and difficult to write, so i decided that instead of forcing you guys to wait another long while for an update, i may as well give you a quick little Medda interlude, considering this first part didn’t really fit in well with the rest of the chapter. hope you guys are okay such a short update after such a long wait. next update is on the way!

You stayed at Miss Medda’s for about two days. She kept you fed and forced you to stay in one of the spare beds she had for her Bowery Beauties until your wounds were healed, and while you appreciated it, it felt so strange to be waited on and taken care of like that. You felt thoroughly embarrassed whenever she changed your bandages and dressed your wounds, and you wanted to hate it, but you couldn’t help but sink into it and enjoy it a little.

“There you are, sugar.” Medda smiled as she taped some gauze over where you’d scraped your cheek from your fall from the window. You tried not to shy away or push her hand away from you – it’d been the spot Race had gently rubbed with his thumb when he’d rescued you from the fight at Newsie Square, and maybe it was your imagination, but you could still feel the warmth, just a little. “All better.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” You said quietly. You weren’t too sure what etiquette you were supposed to use here – with Wiesel, it’d always been ‘yes, Uncle Wiesel’, unless Snyder or his other friends came to the house, then it was ‘yes, sir’. But his friends had always been men – you’d never been in a situation where a woman held power over you, and in this situation, it barely even felt like she had power on you – or if she did, she was refusing to use it. You wondered if all women were like Miss Medda. You hoped so.

Medda clucked her tongue disapprovingly at you.

“I toldja, kid, it’s Medda. I don’t want any of this ‘ma’am’ business in my theatre, not until I’m good and old.”

You were too tired to fight off the smile spreading on your face.

“So, you’re a newsie?” Medda asked as she lay down a plate of bread and cheese on your lap.

“Oh, I can go down and eat at the table-“

“Nonsense, sugar, your legs are worn right out! You eat here, and then you rest.” Medda said firmly. “I wonder why I haven’t seen you before – I know Jack Kelly like he’s my own son, and I take pride in knowing all his newsies.”

“Oh, um,” You stumbled over your words. “I’m new. I’m, um... I’m a friend of Race’s.”

“Oh, Anthony!” Medda smiled brightly. You blinked in surprise – you hadn’t expected Race to have an actual normal name. You decided to ignore it; Race suited him far better than Anthony. “Sweet boy; a little loud, but he’s got a good heart, bless him.”

Your thoughts wandered back to the way Race had brightened when you told him your name.

“Yeah.” You said quietly. “Really good.”

“Pity you joined at this point, though, what with the strike and all – here, kiddo, have some water.” She pushed a tin cup into your hand, and you almost got whiplash at how quickly she could slip in and out of her maternal nature. “Hope this won’t discourage you from staying. They really are lovely boys.”

You sighed into your cup. You did your best to focus on the watermarks on the metal instead of looking Medda in the eye.

“I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“Well, I have to disagree with that.” Medda smiled, cupping her hands over yours. “We’ll always keep a bed warm for ya at Medda’s, sweetie.”

You looked at her quizzically.

“I...” You said slowly. “I don’t... Know you. You don’t know me.”

“I know you’ve been through some hardships.” Medda said simply. “Too many hardships for a kid your age. And I know you’re a friend of Anthony’s. Jack sends the kids he thinks needs personal attention, but Anthony’s never sent anyone here before, so I can only assume you’re a person very important to him, and that he believes you need to be cared for.”

Your blood began to boil in your veins.

“I don’t need to be cared for.” You muttered. “I’m not a child.”

Medda shot you a curious look.

“Well, I’m not too sure what else you are.” She chuckled. “Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this, but... You’re not an adult.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m helpless!”

“No, but it does mean you’re still growing and developing.” Medda said gently. “And if you’re put in the wrong environment, or put in the wrong treatment, you’re not going to develop the right way.”

You snorted bitterly.

“So is that why Race sent me?” You scoffed. “He thinks I’m not growing right?”

“Yes.” Medda said simply. “At least, that’s what I think. I think he knows what you could turn into, and I don’t think he wants that. So he’s trying to help you and show you the kind of treatment you deserve.”

“Why would he do that?” You huffed. “’Cause he feels sorry for me, is that it?”

Medda shot you a look.

“Kiddo.” She said slowly. “It’s because he cares about you.”

And just like that, your walls were stripped away. You looked at Medda helplessly, your mouth opening and closing as you searched for any kind of response. Why didn’t you have a response for that? For being told someone cared about you? Why had that not even registered in your mind as a possible answer? Should it have? Was that something other people were used to?

You’d always thought being soft and letting people in and allowing them to care for you was stupid. It’d make you rely on people too much, and then once they were gone, what would you do then? So you and your brothers scoffed at the idea of being supported. Why would you need someone’s pity when you could just fix the problem by yourself?

You’d always thought you were the ones in the right. The normal ones. But for this whole time, had you actually been the abnormality?

Medda shot you a small sympathetic smile.

“You’re not the first one to come in here without an answer for that.” She said gently. “That doesn’t make it okay, and I’m so sorry you’ve been raised to think no one could care about you. But you’re not the only one.”

You looked at her for a moment, entirely unaware of how to respond to the genuine compassion in her eyes.

“I think...” You said slowly. “I think I’m not hungry anymore...”

Medda smiled gently.

“Why don’t I leave you to rest?” You were almost in shock at how easily she’d understood what you’d meant. With your brothers, they’d scoff at you for being so passive-aggressive and continue to harass you about the issue until you snapped and wound up going to bed with no food and a swollen eye. Medda took your plate and moved it to the bedside table. “I’ll leave this here if you want any more, okay?”

“Mhm.” You nodded. Once the door was closed, your eyes flicked to the half-empty plate. You were kind of lying about not being hungry – having been fighting and running since yesterday morning, you were starving and exhausted. But you hadn’t been lying about not having an appetite. Everything here was so confusing and different it made your stomach hurt. You couldn’t understand why everyone was being so nice, why everyone cared so much, why everything made you feel so warm and fuzzy and...

Now that you thought about it, the bread and cheese didn’t look so unappetising.

You snuck a glance at the door before grabbing the plate again and stuffing your mouth with food. The bread was a little stale and the cheese tasted funny, but it was still the best meal you’d had in years.

---

(tag list: @annabethgranger123 @farfromjustordinary @yxseminx @oswin05 @theater-geek76 )

#again very sorry for it being so short #newsies #newsies x reader #racetrack higgins x reader #racetrack higgins #heart of stone

[13dead-ends]

Chapter Five Bandaids

Chapter Five of Blood Bound

Henry Cavill x Named OC

Summary: When a night out ends with a few scrapes, Henry takes care of Nina.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: drinking, crowded club, scrapes, blood, pushing, grabbing violently?, (please tell me if I missed something)

A/N: This came from wanting Henry to spoil me and pick out clothes for me. That’s the dream. As always thank you to @hellcaster901 if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have finished this!

Enjoy! :)

“Nina are you busy?” Henry asked. My phone was on speaker on the counter while I was jamming a knife into a pumpkin.

“Uh,” I grunted as I pushed the blade the rest of the way through. “I’m carving a pumpkin, actually. But what’s up?”

“Seriously? September’s not even over yet.”

“This is the first of many.” I loved Halloween. I couldn’t wait to decorate so I wanted to carve a jack o lantern.

“Many?” Henry chuckled.

“I’m just excited.” I carved a hole in the top, pulling the piece out by the stem. “But what did you need?”

“I was wondering if you were busy tonight?” I chewed on my lip. I was really about to throw my evening plans out the window for this man.

“Uh, yeah actually.” I looked for my pen to trace my face onto the pumpkin. “I’m going out with Abbey.” When I told her I liked going out to clubs she immediately planned a night to go.

“Aw, okay.” I pressed my lips together. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come over for a little while.” I sighed. Damn it. Of course the one night I’m actually busy he invites me to his house. I hadn’t been there yet, but he had come here quite a lot.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there another time I could?” His schedule was erratic at best. On days when I expect to see him I don’t and days I expect not to see him, he shows up out of nowhere. It seemed like the littlest thing effected filming. He sighed.

“Maybe tomorrow night? If I’m not too tired. I was thinking of showing you some video games.” I had told him I liked one video game and he had insisted on showing me some of his own.

“Okay! Just let me know.” I gave up on the pen and picked up my phone. “I’m letting you know now that I won’t be any good.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” I laughed. “Where are you going tonight?”

“I have no idea. Abbey’s picking me up and I’m letting her pick the places.” I leaned on my elbows.

“Well, be safe, okay?” My heart skipped a beat.

“I will.”

“Call me if you need a ride?” I couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t know if you’re ready for drunk Nina yet, but I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckled.

“That’s a sight I’d like to see.” I laughed. “I’ll leave you to your pumpkin, have fun tonight.”

“Thanks Henry. I will.” I hung up and went back to carving. I just went with a classic face with pointy teeth and triangle eyes. I set it in my windowsill and smiled. I decided to get ready after that and soon enough I was fixing my hair in the mirror, abbey on the phone with me.

“Okay, I’m here!”

“Great! I’ll just come outside now.” I ran out, the crisp air hitting me as I made it outside. It was really feeling like fall now and next week it would be October. I loved it so much. I got in Abbeys Uber with her and grinned.

“Are you excited?” She grabbed my arm as the driver pulled away from my building.

“Yes! I haven’t been out since I was in LA.” She clapped.

“Yay! You’ll have to bring to the clubs you like in LA.” I nodded.

“You’ll have to meet my friend, Irene.” We spoke the whole way to the first bar. It was a cute pub, cozy and warm.

“Now, I just love this place for its food and it’s a good place to meet up before you really get wasted.” I laughed. “And you better be getting wasted with me. We’ll walk around this area for the most part, and just Uber home.” I thought of calling Henry, but it made my heart beat faster.

“Alright, wasted it is.” She linked our arms and took us to the bar. She ordered me a fruity drink and a shot. We did the shot together and I winced at the hard taste.

“Yes, I love a girl who can take a shot.” Abbey giggled. “James is gonna meet up with us here. Let’s find a table.” We moved through the pub until finding a table for us, with enough room for James.

“I heard Henry didn’t take any new donors.” Abbey wiggled her eyebrows

“Did you?” I couldn’t help the grin spreading on my face.

“Yeah, I was at the lab yesterday and over heard Lila say Henry didn’t take her.” She smiled. “She’s pissed, but will just have to get over it.”

“Didn’t Kari day something about losing two donors because of her though?” Abbey sighed.

“Yeah, but I think you’ll be fine. She barely knows either of you. Is she gonna stalk you or something?” I laughed.

“Fuck, she hated me the second she saw me with Henry. She doesn’t need much to set her off.” I took a big drink. “I hope she doesn’t stalk me.” Abbey rolled her eyes.

“Look if she tries anything let the office know. They’re itching for another reason to fire her.” I huffed.

“Maybe they should just fire her now.” Abbey nodded.

“They should what?” James suddenly sat next to me.

“Get rid of Lila.” James rolled his eyes.

“Yes please.” We chatted for a bit, and I got a nice buzz. Soon Abbey wanted to show me another bar and they dragged me down the street. By the third bar, I was really drunk. I stumbled as James pulled me off the dance floor.

“Where’s Abbey?” I yelled over the music as we reached the bar.

“She’s over here somewhere.” James and I searched the bar a found her at the end. She was already ordering drinks.

“What do you guys want?”

“Water.” I couldn’t drink anymore or I’d be sick. She nodded and we got our drinks.

“So I’m thinking we stay here until they close? And then go home.” James nodded smiling. I smiled too, but my feet hurt and I was too drunk already.

“Guys, I’m gonna go to bathroom okay?” I tried walking properly to the bathroom but the room was spinning a little. I made it into a stall okay and just leaned on the wall, it was too hard to stand on my own right now. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw a text from Henry. My drunk brain couldn’t process the words so my fingers hit the call button before I could tell them not too.

“Nina?”

“Henry, hi.” He actually picked up. I grinned into the speaker.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“I’m at some bar, with Abbey.” I accidentally let out a hiccup, and Henry laughed.

“How’s that?”

“Fun, really fun.” I sighed.

“But?”

“I’m tired and she wants to stay out.” I sounded whiny, and I would probably cringe at that later.

“Are you saying you need a ride?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Where am I going?” I heard shuffling on his end.

“Yay,” I mumbled. “I can’t remember the name of the bar but I’ll send you my location.” I stood up straight and lost my balance, hitting my head on the stall. “Ow.” I rubbed my head.

“What was that? Are you okay?”

“I just lost my balance. Let me go find Abbey and tell them you’re coming.”

“Nina, how drunk are you?” I giggled.

“I’m fine. I’m switching to water now. I’ll send my location. Call me when you’re here!”

“Nina, wait-“ I hung up and went out of this bathroom. I sent my location to Henry. Abbey and James weren’t at the bar anymore so I stood on my tip toes to look for them on the dance floor. It was definitely too crowded to see them so I filtered through the people, trying not to stumble as people pushed me around. I suddenly felt a grip on my wrist. I turned around, hoping it was Abbey, but was meet with a guy I didn’t know. I flinched back and tried pulling my arm away.

“Hey do you wanna dance?” He grinned at me, but I had no desire to dance with him.

“No, thanks.” I yelled back and tried walking away but he kept his hand on my arm.

“Oh come on, it’s just dancing.”

“I said no.” He pulled me to him and it was taller than me by a lot and bigger too. “Let me go,” I tried prying his hand off with my other one.

“Don’t be like –“ I was yanked away by hands on my shoulders. I gasped and turned around, his hands no longer on me. Abbey and James looked at me with the same scrunched brow.

“Are you okay?” Abbey looked at my arms. “He was grabbing you and I didn’t think you knew him.” I shook my head.

“I’m fine and no I didn’t know him.” I looked over my shoulder and he was gone. I sighed. “Thank you guys.”

“You’re welcome, Nina.” James rubbed my shoulder.

“Hey, I called someone,” I told them. “ I’m getting a ride home.”

“You don’t wanna stay?”

“My feet are killing me and I can’t drink anymore.” Plus that guy put me off the whole crowded club anyway.

“Okay,” Abbey brought me into a hug. “Thanks for coming. Text me when you get home.”

“Thank you for showing me around. I’ll text you. You both text me okay?” They both nodded and I pushed through the rest of the crowd to the door.

Henry hadn’t gotten there yet when I stepped outside. It was cool and the street lamps casted a warm glow on the street. I leaned on the wall and waited for him. It wasn’t long before I heard the door open again, the music getting louder and going quiet again as it shut. I looked up and saw that stupid guy from inside. I rolled my eyes, but my heart beat got faster. I reached for my phone to call Henry.

“Hey, you’re the girl from inside.” He stopped right in front of me.

“Yeah,” I swallowed.

“Why didn’t you want to dance?” He raised his eyebrow.

“I was leaving, obviously.” I gestured to the sidewalk.

“It was just one dance.” He stepped closer.

“I’m sure there’s a lot of girls in there who wants to dance with you.” I mumbled.

“But I wanted to dance with you.” He came closer.

“Well, my rides almost here, sorry.” I started to walk off, before he got closer, but he caught my wrist. “Just leave me alone.”

“Stop being a bitch.” He pulled me back, but his hand slipped and I lost my balance completely, falling on my hands and knees, my phone flying out of my hand so I could catch myself. My already fuzzy brain was spinning and so was the concrete beneath me. I barely noticed the car pulling up to the curb beside us. A car door slammed and I dropped my elbows, the spinning was too much.

“You better be gone by the time I help her.” I heard quick footsteps going in the opposite way. “Nina? Are you okay?” It was Henry, thank god.

“I’m dizzy.” I mumbled into my arms.

“Come on, love.” He hooked his arm through mine and lifted me to my feet, grabbing my phone at as he did. “Are you alright?” He turned my chin to look at my face.

“I think so,” I suddenly felt the palms of my hands sting, my knees feeling similar. “My hands,” I lifted them up and saw blood and gravel in them. They were scraped up from the sidewalk.

“What happened? Do I need to find that guy?” I shook my head.

“He tried grabbing me but his hand slipped and I fell.” Henry lead me to the car door, and my knees hurt worse as I walked.

“Why was he putting his hands on you?” He opened the door for me and helped me inside.

“He wanted to dance, but I said no.” I sighed leaning my head back on the seat. Henry even buckled my seat belt before shutting my door. He got in and took no time to get the car on the road.

“Fucking prick.” I nodded. “I’ll just take you to mine. I can clean you up there.” His hands gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles and his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“Thanks for coming to get me.” I leaned my head on the window.

“Of course, Nina.” He sighed. “I don’t like you stumbling around like that alone.”

“I was literally about to call you.” My palms were face up on my thighs, the gravel feeling like little pin pricks. “I just needed to get out of the club for fresh air.” Henry’s grip loosened and his shoulders relaxed.

“It’s okay, I just got worried.” My stomach erupted into butterflies, well more like bats. I smiled. “Did you have fun though?”

“Yes, it was so fun.”

“Are you tired?”

“Yeah, there was a lot of dancing.” He chuckled.

“I’m glad you had fun at least.” My eyes shut for just a second and then I opened them to find I was in Henry’s arms being carried to his house.

“Hey, there she is.” Henry smiled down at me and my heart skipped. I took a breath and patted his shoulder.

“Put me down,” I mumbled, I was too drunk to handle that right now. He set my feet down, but kept his hand on my waist. I leaned on him as he unlocked his door.

“You’ll get to sleep soon okay? I just wanna get bandages on you.” I just nodded and he opened the door. Waiting for us in the doorway was Kal. I smiled.

“Kal! Hi cutie pie.” I couldn’t pet him with my hands so I settled for a kiss on the head. He looked up at me with bright eyes. Henry laughed and patted his head.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Henry lead me to the bathroom, there was only a small kitchen light on so I couldn’t see a lot of the house. The one time I’m at his place and it’s dark.

“I gotta text Abbey and James.” I remembered as we got to the bathroom. He turned the light on and sat me on the toilet.

“Here’s your phone,” He handed me my now cracked phone. “I’m going get the first aid kit and some clothes.” I nodded and sent the Im home text to my friends, I slowly tapped the screen with one finger so I wouldnt have to flex my hand as much. The cuts weren’t very bad, they just hurt. Henry came back, setting a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt on the counter. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “I hope you don’t mind my clothes.” I shook my head. “Get changed, I’ll be back in a minute.” He shut the door and I slowly changed. My knees felt tender as I stepped into the shorts that were too big for me. I pulled the draw string tight and tied it. Then pulled the shirt over my head.

“Can I come in?” I pushed my arms through the sleeves.

“Yeah,” I pulled my hair out of the collar as Henry stepped in. He paused for a second, then set the kit on the counter.

“Sit,” I sat back down and he wet a cloth with warm water. He kneeled in front of me and took my hand gently. He wiped away the blood and gravel from my hand. It stung, but after it was cleaned it looked a lot better than before. “Did you text your friends?”

“Yeah,” he moved to my other hand.

“Good.” I sucked in a breath as he hit a deeper scrape, making it begin to bleed again.

“Does it bother you?” I whispered. He looked up at me.

“No,” he looked back down at my hand. “Your vampire movies have a lot of inaccuracies.”

“I bet vampires made a lot of people embarrassed when they came out.” He chuckled.

“It’s always tempting, of course, but once you get the hang of it you have control. You don’t go crazy when you see a cheeseburger, do you?” He smoothed a square bandage over my entire palm. “Plus by the way your blood smells, if I drank now I’d be as drunk as you.” I busted out laughing.

“Seriously?” He moved onto my knees.

“Well, I think I can hold my liquor better than you, but I do get effected by the alcohol in your system.” I kept giggling.

“That’s crazy, but makes sense.” He cleaned my knees up and put bandages on them. “Thank you.” I smiled at him.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled back. “I’m just pleased with the fact that I know you’re a giggle drunk now.” I covered my mouth to hide more giggles and my face warmed up. “Come on, you need to go to bed.” He grabbed my hand, but not holding it too tightly. He lead me to his bedroom instead of the living room. Kal sat on the corner of the bed.

“Oh I don’t have to sleep in here. The couch –“

“No, I’m not tired. You get the bed.” He pushed me forward. I took a deep breath. I was already in his clothes, now he wants me to sleep in his bed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go to bed. I’ll be out here if you need anything.” He rubbed my back. “Goodnight, Nina.”

“Goodnight Henry.” He shut the door as he left and I got into the gray sheets. He had a huge comforter as well. I pulled everything up to my chin and my eyes stayed open. Everything smelled like him and it was overwhelming. An image of Henry climbing into bed with me flooded my brain. I shut my eyes, all the possibilities… I shook my head. God don’t be creepy, you’re in his house. But if he just came into cuddle, that would be nice.

Unfortunately drunk Nina’s fantasy didn’t come true. I woke up to the moon shining on my pillow and the space next to me empty. I let out a big sigh, feeling an ache in my head settle in. My hands and knees had a dull throb as well. I rolled onto my side and jumped back when I saw Kal wagging his tail next to me. He licked my face and I scratched his ears. “Hi buddy.” I saw my phone on the bedside table and checked it. I had only been asleep for a few hours. I looked back at Kal and he looked at me with bright eyes. He walked out eventually and I rolled back onto my back. I felt goosebumps raise on my skin as I realized how cold it felt in here. I pulled the blankets up, but didn’t feel any warmer. I huffed and sat up. I heard sounds of fighting and swords coming from the open door. I wrapped the blanket around me and got up, following the sounds. Henry was playing a video game in the living room. It looked like some sort of fantasy game. I sat down next to him and he looked over at me.

“Can’t sleep?” I shook my head.

“I don’t know why I can’t. Especially since I think I’m still a little buzzed.” He paused his game, chuckling.

“How are your scrapes?” I pulled one hand out of my blanket and looked at it.

“Good I think. Still hurts a little.” He took my hand in his and looked over his handiwork. He brushed his fingers over the bandage and then just barely over my bare fingers. His skin tickled mine. “Thanks for patching me up.” I met his eyes, hoping he knew how much I meant it.

“Of course.” He smiled, tucking my hand back in my blanket and pulling it tighter around me.

“What are you playing?” He told me the premise of the game and what he was trying to do, then started playing again. I was interested in the game, but I just liked watching Henry play it.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I woke up still on the couch, this time my cheek was smashed against Henry. I lifted my head up, eyes wide. We were both stretched out, but I was on top of him, his arms looped over my back; the blanket over both of us now. He was breathing deeply, eyes shut. He was asleep. I had my head on his chest and one hand too. My other hand was hanging off the couch completely. I couldn’t help but relax. He was very comfy. I shut my eyes, enjoying the cuddle. Then I heard Henry take a big breath. His arms tightened around me for a second, then he moved one to his hair. I looked up at him.

“Nina, you’re awake.” Seeing his eyes so close made me panic and I pushed myself up off him.

“Yeah, uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.” He cleared his throat, helping me get our legs apart.

“It’s - it’s fine.” He chuckled nervously. I sighed when I was sitting up right. Sun light peaked through the window in front of us. “Good morning.” I held my warm cheeks.

“Good morning, Henry.” I rubbed my eyes. There was a headache creeping up on me now that I wasn’t sleeping with Henry.

“How are you feeling?” He looked over my face.

“Like I’m about to get a headache.” I muttered.

“I guess the buzz is gone, then?” I nodded. “How about I make some breakfast?”

“Yes please.” I grinned up at him as he stood.

“Alright, I’ll be in the kitchen.” I leaned on my elbows, rubbing my face. He was killing me, I swear. I got up and went to the bedroom to find my phone. I went back out to the kitchen to see Henry heating up a pan. I saw a kettle on his stove as well.

“Where’s your tea?” I asked. He turned and pointed to a cabinet.

“Mugs are in the one next to it.” He added. I pulled out two and put bags in. “Did you sleep okay?” I filled the kettle and set it on the stove. I turned it on and sat on the counter next to it, swinging my legs.

“Yeah, I think so.” He looked over at me, smirk on his face. “You might wanna work on your pecks though, they’re feeling a little soft.” He scoffed, pausing his hands.

“Hush, at least I wasn’t snoring all night.” My jaw dropped.

“I wasn’t, was I?” He nodded laughing at me. I smacked his shoulder.

“It’s fine, a lot of people snore.” He continued cooking putting some sausage on the pan, it sizzling instantly.

“No filming today?” I stared at my left knee, a bruise already forming at the edges of the bandage.

“Nope, I get a real weekend for once.” I smiled.

“Good, I’m glad you do.” I hopped down as the kettle started to steam, the whistle hurting my head. “Damn,” I mumbled, pulling it off the stove. I poured our tea and we added in our milk and sugar together, our elbows brushing. I sat down at the table and watched Henry cook. We talked a little bit but it was a quiet morning. I was too tired to do much else.

“Do you have any plans today?” Henry asked me as he set a full plate of food in front of me.

“Not really. I was pretty much planning on being hungover so I didn’t make any plans.”

“Do you want to come run some errands with me?” I smiled at him.

“Sure, I probably need to go home to get clothes, though.” I was still in his t-shirt. The collar was lopsided so my collar bone was showing, his shorts had been falling down all morning.

“That’s fine. We’ll stop on the way.” We finished eating and I sadly changed back into my clothes from last night. He drove us to my place, and I had to quickly get ready. I got dressed in my room while Henry waited outside. I looked in the mirror and my hair was a mess and I did look a little hungover. I huffed, I looked like this all morning? I adjusted the flannel I put on and threw my hair up. I went to my bathroom and washed my face quickly and that helped a little.

“You ready, dear?” My knees wobbled at the nickname. I leaned on the counter.

“Almost.” I checked my face one more time in the mirror and walked out. Henry stood in my living room looking at my pumpkin still in the windowsill.

“I like it.” He tapped the pumpkin.

“Thanks!” I grinned. “Shall we?” He nodded and we walked back out to his car. “Where are we going?”

“I just need to get a few things at some shops.” I nodded. Maybe I could look for a few things, I hadn’t been shopping in a while. I wasn’t paying attention to where we were going, Henry’s hand had made its way in my knee during the ride and I didn’t want to miss a second of that. As we stopped I looked out the window. It was large street, shops and stores up and down it. He turned the engine off and we got out. I stepped onto the side walk next to him.

“Where are we going?” I asked as we began walking.

“I need some new shoes, and I ordered some parts for my PC.” He explained where some of the stores were. “But I figured you’d want to do some shopping as well.”

“Sure!” I let him lead me down the sidewalk, our arm brushing every now and then.

It wasn’t long before I slowed in front of a shop, seeing a cute pair of boots in the window. “Go on inside, I need in thing in the shop over. I’ll meet you in there.” He nudged me to the door and walked off. I shrugged and went in, a bell jingling overhead. I wanted to find the shoes, but got distracted by some sweaters and then jeans. Let’s just say it took me longer to get to the shoes than normal. When Henry came back I was slipping a pair in my size on. He had a small bag from wherever he went.

“I like those.” He smiled at me. I stood from the bench, the boots had a bit of height and I didn’t have to tilt my head back as far to look at Henry as I stood in front of him.

“Me too.” I rocked in them and then took a few steps along the shelf. I saw myself in a mirror and they looked good. “I’m gonna get them.” I grinned. I sat back down and slipped them off.

“I’ll get them.” Henry placed them back in the box for me. I put my shoes back on.

“Oh you don’t have to.”

“I said I wanted to buy you things.” He looked at me as he shut the box.

“But you paid me, so technically I’m buying them with your money.” It was sweet, but I always felt weird about taking other peoples money. He shook his head.

“You did sign a contract.” His eyebrow raised and he took the box to the registers. “Was there anything else you wanted?” I shook my head and followed him. He paid, the mention of the contract made me feel less weird, but it still was. He really wanted me to shop around, though. He took me inside a clothes shop and I ended up getting a fitting room try things on. I picked a few things out and tried them on inside the stall.

I wore a pair of jeans and a cute sweater, just a little too big. I wanted a different size in the jeans though, I opened the door and peaked out to see if I could ask that employee to grab me another pair, but instead I saw a few tops and a dress hanging on the hook by my door. I furrowed my brow, I didn’t put those there. The dress was cute though. I turned it around to see more of it. The girl in the uniform came around and I called her over.

“Did you put these here?” I asked, forgetting about the jeans.

“No, your friend did.” I looked over her shoulder to see Henry leaning against the wall outside the fitting rooms, back to me.

“Oh thank you.” She took some things I didn’t want for me and I replaced them with what Henry choose. Somehow the dress fit perfectly. It hung off my hips at just the right angle and showed off just enough cleavage. I blushed at myself in the mirror. He picked this for me. I grinned. I slowly stepped out and cleared my throat. He turned around and smiled. Eyes dragging up my body.

“I knew you’d look good in that.” He smirked. “Do you like it?”

“I do.” I turned around once. “Nice choice.” I winked at him and stepped back inside. I tried a few more things on, showing him everything after the dress. He got me the dress, and pretty much anything I showed interest in. I couldn’t handle much more than that but we looked around a bit more, he got his things. Then he took me back home. Giving me a kiss on the cheek before he left.

—————

Tag list:

@xxxkatxo @omgkatinka @thatgirly81

Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

#henry cavill #fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x oc #june writes stuff #fanfic #smut

[telli1206]

You’re So Fine, You Blow My Mind (Part 2)

Tourney player Jay is smitten with the new cheerleader, and Evie and Mal help get them together.

Click here for Part 1: Jay

Part 2: Mal

Evil, there’s so much about tourney that Mal just can’t stand.

First off, the uniforms? They make sense to wear during games, kind of, but could they look anymore pansy-ish? Shiny blue and gold jerseys and shorts in silky soft materials? Not her idea of threatening or intimidating. These Auradonians make everything look so overdressed and...fancy.

And the games? With people watching and chanting stupid rhymes about defense and winning, with their faces painted blue and gold? It’s embarassing that anyone would want to act like that, especially to cheer on a fight over a ball. It would actually be similar to watching fights break out on the isle, if people here weren’t so weird about dressing up and singing for it.

For those reasons, and a few more, it took A LOT of convincing from Jay to get Mal to try out for tourney. But he won her over, of course. Jay always knew how to get through to Mal. 

Not that she’d ever admit to that.

But at the end of the day, how could she turn down the opportunity to take her aggression out on a few Auradonian boys on the tourney field? 

Especially Chad. Damn, Jay really knew her weaknesses.

But she’s a good friend too, so she’s VERY familiar with Jay’s weaknesses. And right now, his biggest weakness is ruining her practice and annoying the hell out of her.

She’s referring, of course, to the brain in his pants.

And that brain has completely taken over Jay today. Just one look at the new cheerleader boy, and her new best friend and teammate has been reduced to a clumsy, awkward, stuttering mess. Drills were a disaster, every play they ran was a complete failure, and Mal’s limping off the field now that Jay managed to trip her and knock them both into the ground during laps. 

She hisses quietly as she brushes the dirt off the scrape on her knee, scowling at Jay, who simply shrugs at her and jogs towards the locker rooms, stumbling again on the way when he catches another glimpse of the freckled cheerleader in his peripheral vision.

Ok, fuck this shit. Mal’s fixing the problem, RIGHT NOW.

“Babe!” She calls to Evie as she waves, sprinting over to the pretty bluenette cheerleader.

Evie turns with a bright smile, already leaning forward to meet her girlfriend in a sweet kiss.

“You were fantastic out there today, Mals. The star of practice,” she raves, giving her a wink.

Mal loses her train of thought for a second, smiling and blushing furiously at the compliment.

“Thanks, Eves. I thought it went well today.” Her face turns serious as she remembers her problem. “For me at least. I don’t know if you saw, but someone had a really off day today.”

Evie purses her lips with a slight nod. “Jay? The poor guy, he couldn’t catch a break today. I guess everyone has a day that goes all wrong, right?”

“Sure, that can happen,” Mal surmises with a tilt of her head. “But in this case, it wasn’t just a bad day. Jay’s, problem, has a face. A pretty one.”

Evie giggles, shaking her head. “Of course. When doesn’t it? Who’s the goof all twitterpated for now?”

Mal spins on her heel, crossing her arms as she eyes the boy, now chatting with Jane, arms gesturing wildly in a passionate discussion. She hears words like ‘cosine’ and ‘tangent’ and has to chuckle. Her bestie’s fallen for a hot little nerd.

“Your new guy over there has my best friend tripping over his own feet. We need to do him a favor and introduce them. I don’t think he’ll manage this time without us. The guy’s a little hopeless right now.”

Evie’s eyes light up when she sees who Mal’s talking about. “You mean Carlos?!” She squeals and jumps happily, clapping her hands. “He’s ADORABLE, and the sweetest thing! Oh, he’s perfect for Jay!”

Mal smirks and drops her hands to her hips. Her girlfriend will forever love playing matchmaker.

“Good, but we’ll need to be there to help loverboy. I have a feeling this won’t go smoothly without us. But don’t worry, I have a plan,” Mal adds with a calculated grin.

-----

“So, why do you want to eat lunch in the courtyard today? I thought you liked the middle garden cause it’s less crowded.” Jay follows Mal, grabbing an apple on  their way out of the cafeteria with their trays.

“What, is it so wrong to want a change of scenery one day? I’m not a creature of habit, Jay. I can be spontaneous.”

“Ok,” He chuckles, shining the apple against his vest. “Except you can’t.”

Mal glares at him but keeps walking. 

“Evie’s already saved us a table,” she adds as they turn the corner. She smiles when she spots the girl at the table right in front of them. “And” She nods her head, gesturing for Jay to look. “She brought a friend to join us.”

Jay’s about to take a bite out of the apple, but freezes when he looks up ahead. Evie’s at the table with...his freckled cheerleader boy. He stands there, mouth agape, refusing to move.

Mal rolls her eyes and grabs at his arm, pulling him along. He finally stumbles into step with her up to the table.

Evie and the boy both look up, smiling. Mal smiles back and drops herself in the seat across from Evie, leaving Jay in front of his crush. He quirks a smile and slowly plops himself down, catching himself when he almost drops the apple in his hand. He swings back up quickly with an awkward chuckle.

“Mal! Jay!” Evie sings sweetly. She reaches for the boy’s hand on the table and squeezes it gently. “I’d like you to meet Carlos! He just transferred here last week. And he’s our newest cheerleader.” She comments with a wide smile, which Carlos returns.

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you. Both of you,” he says cheerfully, offering a tiny wave.

“Carlos! I saw you at practice yesterday, you’ve got some pretty sweet moves,” Mal comments.

Carlos’ smile widens at Mal’s praise, and a light pink flush spreads quickly across his cheeks, starkly brightening his face against the pale skin and freckles. 

He’s cute. Really cute. Mal can definitely see why Jay’s so smitten.

“Thanks, Mal. I really love dancing. It was super exciting to make the squad. Evie’s put together some great routines.” He leans into Evie as she smiles and throws an arm around his shoulders for a side hug.

“And you’ve had some great ideas already, Carlos! I can’t wait to see what we can do together.”

Jay clears his throat, grabbing everyone’s attention. Mal sees his hand under the table between them, clenched tightly and at his side.

“Y-Yeah, Carlos.” He says weakly, curling his lips into a half-smile. “I saw you too. You’re...really good.”

Carlos spins back to meet Jay’s eyes with a warm smile, cheeks still flushed and adorable.

“Thanks, Jay.”

Mal bites back a laugh, shaking her head at Jay. He’s so shaky and nervous, totally not the suave flirt she’s used to seeing. And he’s joining late to the conversation and being SO awkward.

He’s so fucked for this kid. It’s time to step in and help.

“So, Carlos. Are you just new to our school, or new to Auradon City too?”

“Both!” He answers brightly, turning to Mal. “We lived in Camelot Heights before, but Roger and Anita thought it would be better for me here. Auradon Prep is known for their Math and Science programs.”

Mal quirks a brow. That explains his excited math chatter with Jane earlier. She peeks at Jay, who’s still listening intently to Carlos, resting his head in his hands with a stupid grin on his face. Obviously the nerd vibe hasn’t phased him at all.

“That’s great! Math and Science aren’t really my thing, but they have a lot of options here to keep you happy if you’re into that stuff.”

She leans in a little, offering a tiny smille. “But have you had any time to explore the city? There’s a lot of great restaurants and shops and stuff.”

Carlos shakes his head, waving his hand around in a circle. “This place is so big, and between tryouts, getting my schedule and taking the tour, I’ve barely even had time to get settled in my room.”

“Well! That’s got to change.” Mal pops back upright. “Evie and I are obsessed with the Auradon City Grille. They have the best burgers around.” Evie’s eyes widen as she nods excitedly at Carlos.

“Yes! And then we always hit up Mrs.Pott’s after for coffee or tea and some of her cupcakes. They’re my favorite,” she gushes, clasping her hands gleefully.

“Ooooh. That sounds great!” Carlos’ eyes light up with excitement. “Do they have chocolate cupcakes? I’m a sucker for chocolate.”

“Yes!” Mal jumps in. “You have to try it.”

Carlos nods eagerly. “I’m in! That sounds like fun! When are we going?”

Before Evie can respond, Mal reaches out to clasp her hand. She smiles knowingly, and Evie closes her mouth, perking her eyebrows in silent agreement.

“Actually, Evie and I are going to be pretty busy this week. I’m bombing Chemistry at the moment, so she’s going to help me study.”

“Oh, ok.” Carlos’ face drops a little in disappointment.

“But!” Mal claps Jay on the shoulder. “Jay here should be free.”

Jay chokes on his water, sputtering as he swallows his mouthful. He looks at Carlos, who’s staring back, and looking, hopeful.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m free.” Jay swallows loudly. “D-do you wanna go t-t-tomorrow night?”

Carlos smiles full and wide, showing a mouth of gleaming white, perfect teeth.

“Yeah. It’s a date.”

#jay descendants #carlos descendants #cheerleader carlos #jaylos #descendants #mal descendants #evie descendants #malvie

[whynotwinnie]

Wounded: a Kylo Ren x OC Part 5

A/N: Hey queens. We're finally picking up some speed with the tension i'm trying to get through these parts quickly so we can get to the juicy stuff, I had imagined Cardo as Roman Reigns and Kuruk as Tom Hardy but you can imagine them however you'd like, would y'all want me to do a description for Venus or just leave her faceless so it can be like a y/n situation... Let me know how you like it <3 Bennie

VENUS

You woke up to X2 beeping softly signaling you smiled at him, this must have been a dream you was in your quarters and need to get ready for another day at the infirmary, and then you remembered everything that happened. You were in the operating room with the Supreme Leader.

You rose from the recliner and let out a soft groan your neck ached and your back was definitely crooked, but at least you got some rest. You took a moment to pop your back and the rest of your aching bones you stretched touching your toes and rolled your neck side to side until the discomfort from the night's sleep wore off. You went to the refresher brushed your teeth and tried to mentally prepare for your day with the Supreme Leader.

How do you wake a Supreme Leader up you thought to herself. If it was any other patient you would do it with a smile and a friendly attitude but considering this wasn't any other patient you decided to tone down the happiness and go for a much quieter approach.

You slowly turned the lights back on to where it was just enough for her to see what you was doing.

"Now X2 he is still a little weary about you so you just need to follow my lead for a bit and he'll warm up to you and let us both work on him."

X2 beeped in confirmation. Now for the hard part.

You stood at the Supreme Leaders' side for a second and then you shook his shoulder he didn't even move. You grabbed him a little harder and shook him again and still nothing.

You looked at X2 "What do I do now?"

He beeped "Try again." You gave him a look.

You took a deep breath grabbed his shoulder and pushed him once hard. His eyes opened wide and he sat up.

"Supreme Leader it's just me I needed to see how your wound was doing." You blurted out quickly.

He ignored her and looked down at his wound. "Is it healed?"

You unwrapped his bandages and where the blaster wound had been was now a significantly smaller wound less irritated. "Worked like a charm." you smiled at him,

He was not amused. You sighed and you felt around the wound "Any discomfort when I press here." You looked up at him, he rubbed his eyes and shook his head no. "Here?" again no. "Here?"

"No, it doesn't hurt anywhere you touch." He yelled at you.

Your eyes grew wide and your heart skipped a beat. "Ok" you muttered softly

You walked to the side with X2 "Scan him and see if the broken ribs were fully mended and also for brain damage. I'm going to change real quick." With one last look at the Supreme Leader you left to the refresher.

You stared into the mirror and tried not to think of anything out of fear that he might hear your thoughts. All you wanted to do was calm down taking deep breaths you changed into your work clothes black sleeveless shirt tucked into black pants and your healer vest over showing all of your credentials. You tied your hair up completely forgetting about the gash there and after checking the scar there you decided that you were well enough to continue working... as if it mattered.

You walked back out to the operating room and X2 rolled over to you.

"Ribs are no longer broken but are still fragile he should be able to go on stage 2 of concussion protocol."

You nodded meaning today he was able to get up and maybe walk around for a bit. You were about to ask how his head felt but you really didn't want to get yelled at again.

So you just grabbed your tablet and started filling out what had happened, his injuries, and how he was healing since you didn't get a chance to do it the day before.

It was just silence between the both of you, if it was anyone else you would have put on some music or chatted with them but he had to make everything difficult. Shit you forgot about the whole mind-reading thing. You tried to look at him through the corner of your eye and saw him staring back at you.

"You can put on your stupid music, I don't care." he said

You shook your head "No actually you can rest I'm all done with you for now. I just needed to see how your body was reacting to the Bacta, you're healing quite nicely I'm more than sure you would be able to leave sooner." with that you turned back to your tablet and started doing some other paperwork you never had a chance to finish.

"You're being dramatic." you didn't respond to that.

"I didn't mean to yell at you, I just didn't sleep well."

"It's okay." you finally said, "I was being genuine about you going back to sleep."

You walked over to the light and dimmed them and sat on the recliner and busied yourself with work and even had a little nap while X2 looked after the Supreme Leader while he was sleeping.

X2 woke you when he heard someone approaching with breakfast. You rose and yelped outside the door were two of the Knights of Ren checking the poor kitchen worker's food.

You went outside and grabbed the food from the staff worker and thanked him hoping the two knights wouldn't bother you too much.

When you brought the tray to the table near the Supreme Leader where we was already awake.

"Good morning Supreme Leader breakfast just got you if you feel like eating."

"What's the time"

You checked your watch "7:38"

"We have our daily briefings at 10"

You weren't sure how to answer that doesn't he call the shots he was going to do whatever he wanted anyway.

Changing the subject "Well for breakfast we have either Oatmeal which I assume is for you or eggs, toast, and bacon which could also be for you if you like." You said as you raised his bed so he was sitting up.

"The coffee however is mine," you said with a smile bring the metal chair near the table across from the Supreme Leader. You sat down pouring the large pot into a mug and you looked up at him as he was still sitting there.

"Oh I'm sorry did you need assistance, I just assumed you were able to eat yourself because you're so much better. Well, I really shouldn't assume things pertaining to your health I'm sorr-"

"Stop apologizing I only meant for you to choose your plate first."

"What?"

"Choose your meal."

"Supreme Leader it's not really about me, if you feel up to eating the oatmeal then eat it but if you can handle something heavier then have the other plate. I don't mind having either."

He stared at her and you drank from your mug to avoid his eye contact.

He muttered something about being difficult and took the bowl of oatmeal using the variety of condiments the kitchen provided to make it to his liking. You grinned and took the plate of eggs you hate to admit it but your stomach was definitely empty from the night before. You both ate in silence it was comfortable maybe you could finish up with the Supreme Leader in about three or four days and then things can go to normal.

"Go ask Cardo to bring me new robes."

And then you weren't hungry anymore you swallowed hard, "Who?"

"Cardo outside the door with Kuruk."

"You want me to ask for robes...one of the Knights... of Ren"

"Yes"

"Oh sure." you got up and walked towards the door. With a deep breath you opened it softly.

"Excuse me, ummm Cardo." the knight on the left turned his head toward you.

"The Supreme Leader asked if you can get him new robes."

Cardo turned fully toward he towered you and his blaster catching your eye. He seemed to look beyond you toward the Supreme Leader.

After a second he straightened and turned and walked out the infirmary. Kuruk the other knight closed the door making you go back inside the operating room.

"I guess he is going to get them."

"He is."

"Oh."

You started cleaning all the breakfast dishes but kept the pot of coffee knowing you would need it later. By the time you finished you heard the door open.

"Girl" Cardo said harshly

"Venus is okay too," you said under your breath and took the black robes in his hands.

You brought them to the Supreme Leader "Your robes sir, I would be careful with your right side don't pick up your arms too fast, and don't pick them up too high."

"Were you not going to assist me?" he said

You shouldn't have a problem you've seen a lot worse and you have definitely changed someone naked both male and female, but he was the Supreme Leader. Him without his mask a semi-shirtless was enough for you to turn red.

"If you would allow me to then yes." Why did I say that?

The Supreme Leader undid the button of hid pants and you slowly dragged them down his legs, due to the hectic day yesterday you didn't even get a chance to assess the lower part of him. There was dirt and dried blood from minor scrapes you looked up at him "Can you raise your hands as far as they can go?"

He tried and they didn't even go past his shoulders.

"I'm guessing a shower would be out of the question then."

No answer.

You went towards the cabinets and grabbed a sponge, a towel, some soap, and a bowl full of warm water and brought it back to the Supreme Leader.

You took the sponge and put it in the bowl and gently started washing his legs trying to imagine that he was just another patient. Once dry you debated on asking him about his... other part. He must've sensed your uncomfortableness and said he can do it on his own with a relieved sigh you gave him the sponge.

"I'm going to be in the refresher ummm just shout if you need me or when you're done... actually X2 can stay just in case you hurt yourse-"

"No."

"Or not that's fine. Come on X2." and you shut the door to the refresher.

What the fuck?

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #kylo ren #kylo x oc #kylo x y/n #commander-kylo #kylo ren fanfiction #adam driver #darkside #the last jedi #The Force Awakens #general hux

[theotherwasdeath]

the ethics of being a sugar baby (stevetony, rated T, 1.8k)

At first, Steve doesn’t even notice. 

In his defense, he’s had much more important things on his mind. Namely, Tony’s chest and immediate access to it. 

Later, he’ll look back on all of these nights and call himself stupid, clumsy, too caught up in the scrape of Tony’s beard against his chin and Tony’s hands in his hair to care about anything else. The catalyst for his realization is, admittedly, quite small. It’s something Tony says to him, after they’ve worn themselves out and collapsed onto sweat-damp sheets.

“God, you’re gonna make me replace my whole wardrobe at this rate. Not that I mind, of course…” Tony trails off as he turns to him and runs his fingers lovingly down Steve’s bare chest, which is covered in rapidly-fading bitemarks. 

That pulls Steve out of the hazy, post-coital space he’d been floating in. He wraps his arm around Tony’s waist, pulls him ever-so-slightly closer.   

“What do you mean, replace your whole wardrobe?”

Tony huffs out a laugh as he turns back around, once again becoming the little spoon. “Come on, you’ve seen what you do to all of my shirts. Look at the one on the floor! Completely shredded, you animal,” he says, kicking the blanket off the bed and making himself comfortable against Steve’s body. 

Steve tenses up, then, blood running cold. Logically, he knows that Tony has money. He knows that Tony can get more shirts. He knows that this is the future, and Tony doesn’t have to stitch up his shirts with a thread and needle anymore. He knows, he knows, he knows…

Tony elbows him in the abdomen. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

“We have been over this, Steven, I am not--”

“--you are not a stress ball, stop squeezing you, yes dear, whatever you say sweetheart.” Steve rolls his eyes at Tony’s theatrics, mouth turning up at the corners despite himself.

Tony exhales in a pattern that could be construed as a laugh. “Go to bed or I’ll sell all of my lingerie.”

Steve, knowing from experience to just drop the argument, lets his eyes fall shut as he tries not to think about how much he’s cost Tony.

***

Steve is nothing if not an expert at shoving down his feelings until they boil over like a lidded pot. As such, the next time he really pays much attention to this thing of his is when Tony drags him to go clothes shopping a few days later. 

He doesn’t enjoy the errand much, but Tony had been extra persuasive, with kisses along the back of Steve’s neck, that evil little man, he knows that’s where Steve is ticklish, promises of “it’ll be fun! We never go out anymore, baby, we’re so busy, spend some time with me,” and wide, pleading brown eyes, and Steve didn’t have the heart to say no. 

Tony takes him to the corner of 30th street and 10th avenue, into a store he actually recognizes. It’s bigger, brighter, and like everything in the future, very “Tony,” but he remembers his mother’s Neiman Marcus Company catalogs with their pages and pages of factory-made clothes, that year’s new hooverette [x] circled in red. 

Of course, the two of them aren’t going to look at house dresses. They probably don’t even make house dresses or corselets [x] anymore, thinks Steve, and even if they did, Tony wouldn’t want to wear them and-- Steve stops himself before he can think about Tony in garters anymore. They’re in public, for God’s sake. 

Tony pulls him aside to the shirt racks, hands him a few dozen button ups, and ushers him into the dressing rooms. The silk feels so smooth, catching in places against the calluses on his hands, almost too perfect to be held by him.

A small, guilty feeling in his gut tells him to check the price, but the selfish part of him, the one that wants to enjoy every aspect of being Tony Stark’s latest project, ignores it. 

No, instead Steve lets Tony dress him up like his own personal fashion model, and laughs when he puts together the most atrocious eyesore of an outfit in the world [x]. The bright red fedora clashes horribly with the crystal-covered shoes, and Tony had pulled on zebra-print boxers to go with the cheetah-print shirt, telling him “it’s not like anyone who wears these boxers is gonna be concerned with pants.” 

Tony drags him out of the store after a couple of hours, after wheedling him into getting another few suits and some shoes, with promises that they’ll go get them tailored for Steve’s shoulders and legs. He thinks about how his old Captain America costume always left him chafed red around his pecs and on the inside of his thighs, and tries to not blush at how off-handedly considerate Tony can be sometimes. 

After they get back to the tower, Steve collapses into bed, exhausted from their day out. As he drifts off, the guilt comes back, this time with a vengeance. 

Neiman Marcus is obviously a pricey store. Tony must have spent thousands on you today, and you don’t even have the decency to do something in return for him? To even offer to pay him back? You’re so selfish. You should be ashamed of yourself. 

Steve lies awake and focuses heavily on his breathing, wills his heart rate to go down, and promises himself he’ll be brave about his emotions tomorrow. 

***

That morning, he wakes up like he’s going into a warzone. In a way, he is; entering Tony Stark’s bedroom, uninvited, to snoop around? Terrifying. 

Tony is already long gone by the time Steve gets to his floor and creeps his way into the suite. The guilt makes a reappearance even as he asks JARVIS to unlock Tony’s bedroom door, his thoughts all converging on Tony’s even paying for you now. He took a day off yesterday to spend time with you, time he could have used to work on his SI projects, or the mountain of SHIELD paperwork that’s piled up lately, or anything except waste a day at a goddamn department store--

He shakes his head, tries to reassure himself with the knowledge that Tony wanted to go out with him, he wanted to spend time with him, that’s why he asked, but his heart won’t stop beating, oh God, he’s going to die at the doorway of Tony’s walk-in closet--

“Steve? What are you doing?”

He turns his head towards Tony’s voice, and now, of course, is when the second wave of panic and self-loathing hits, taking a nosedive into now Tony knows exactly how weak you are, he had to leave his job to check on you, and he tries to open his mouth, to explain himself, but all that comes out is a strangled noise as his knees threaten to give out.

Tony looks-- he looks worried, not angry. That’s not good. Steve can deal with anger, he knows how anger works. He’s not prepared for pity or concern. And that’s why he does the worst thing he could possibly do when literally backed into a corner: he lies to Tony’s face. 

“Nothing. I’m fine. I just… I missed you, this morning.”

Tony’s smarter than that, he’s always been able to see through Steve, so of course he calls him on it. “Uh huh, I missed you too, now tell me what’s going on.” He punctuates this with an eye-roll and an outstretched hand to pull Steve towards his bed.

They sit on the edge of the bed in silence for a few minutes, Steve too stubborn to talk, until Tony can’t stand it anymore.

“You know, I really don’t appreciate having my intelligence questioned, Steven Grant. It’s very unattractive. Here I was thinking that nothing you did could be unattractive and yet, you managed to prove me wrong.” Tony gives him a slight smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

Well, Steve might as well get it over with. Rip off the proverbial band-aid. 

“How much do I cost you?”

That makes Tony stop smiling.

“How much do you cost me? What’s gotten into you?” 

“I just- you said that I’m making you replace your wardrobe because I keep destroying your shirts, and they’re so expensive, and you buy me so many nice things and I’ve never offered to pay you back, and I don’t even know if I could pay you back because I don’t even have a real job, I’m useless and you deserve someone better than me--” Steve realizes, vaguely, that he’s getting more and more choked up, and that there are tears threatening to spill.

Tony pulls Steve close, lets him rest his head against his shoulder, which feels safer than it should. 

“Is this all because of what I said in bed a few nights ago?”

Steve means to say yes, but it comes out as a wounded-sounding whimper. 

“Oh, honey, you know you don’t need to worry about that. What’s the point of sleeping with a billionaire if you don’t get to be a sugar baby?” Tony’s running a hand through his hair now, and it does a lot in the way of calming Steve down. 

“But I shouldn’t be a… a sunk cost for you! That’s wrong, I’m taking advantage.”

Tony sighs at him, then, and pulls Steve’s head up to face him. “Look at me, you’re not taking advantage. I know what that feels like.” 

Steve makes an indignant noise at that, because how dare someone try to take advantage of Tony, which makes Tony poke his nose and say, “Hey, do not interrupt me when I’m trying to have a heartfelt discussion with you! We can talk about my tragic love life later, but let it be said that I, of all people, would know what it feels like to know that someone is only with you for the money.”

When Steve doesn’t respond, just stares at Tony with bright eyes, Tony continues. “I love spoiling you. I love taking you out around town like you’re Vivian Ward and I’m Edward Lewis.”

“I don’t understand that reference.” Steve feels his eyebrows knitting together in confusion, a familiar feeling when he’s around Tony.

“Have I not shown you Pretty Woman? You’ll love it.”

“Do you really mean it? You don’t, you know, think I’m selfish? For being like this? For not, uh, contributing?” Steve is just fishing for additional reassurance at this point; he’s done being brave about his emotions for the 

Tony smiles in full force, then, and moves to sit on Steve’s lap. “Oh, I’ll show you one way you can contribute. Take off your shirt.”

Steve does.

#stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 2x9 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

This review is dedicated to Dalila Bela, who turns 19 today. Happy birthday!

After a long wait, there she is at last - Muriel Stacy, decorating her new home with potato stamps. What a lovely way to show she is a kindred spirit. She’s basically like an older Anne. 

Marilla and Anne utter the same words upon passing Miss Stacy, who is cycling in the opposite direction at top speed - ‘My heavens!’ - except their intonations are so different. Marilla is shocked at the sight of the unconventional-looking stranger, while Anne is in awe of her, and especially the fact that she’s wearing trousers. I don’t think the women of Avonlea, be they progressive mothers or not, won’t be so fascinated with her, though.

And again, Miss Stacy acts exactly like an older Anne, going on and on about potatoes and tardiness and motorbikes before she’s even caught a breath. I can’t wait for Anne to finally meet her. And that concludes the cold open. 

I don’t care what Prissy and Josie, or their mothers, say about Miss Stacy- I’m with Anne on this one. They shouldn’t judge their new teacher before they’ve met her up close. She’ll warm her way into their hearts, I’m sure. I actually know it for a fact.

I simply cannot believe Billy brought a gun to school and is openly proclaiming he’s about to kill an animal, a living being, with it. And it’s not just any animal - it’s the fox, Anne’s fox. What has it done to him that he’s so personally violent towards it?

Again, Gilbert alone is the voice of reason (unlike season 3 Gilbert, who is the most confused individual I’ve ever seen and has the eyebrows to prove it). ‘There’s no fox here, so how about you put the gun away?’ It’s as if he speaks for me. 

Who does Billy think he is, calling his teacher ‘little lady’? He’s lucky she’s not Phillips, otherwise he wouldn’t get away with such disrespectful behaviour. 

Once again Anne uses the exact same words as someone else, but with a different intonation. Prim and proper Tillie’s ‘Oh my goodness!’ is one of disapproval (which she’s not to blame for, that’s probably just what her parents have taught her), while Anne’s is an expression of pure admiration and fascination. [Side note: Let’s put things into perspective, though - what would you think if your new teacher showed up to school with no bra on, on her first day at that? I don’t really know what to think of corsets anymore, so I’m not sure how to take this. You tell me.]

What, now Matthew and Jerry, two of my favourite AWAE men, want to catch the fox too? I understand it’s stealing people’s chickens, but hey, a fox must eat too, and it’s not like it can get its food in another way.

What’s happening to Bash? Is farm life not his speed? I’m worried about him, I hope he’s alright. 

For this next scene, the introductions, I’ll insert a note from when I first watched this episode. I notice I’ve been doing that a lot lately, but well, it seems I’ve got quite a lot of first impression notes on this season written down, so why not make them public now, here where it’s appropriate? Here goes:

And, just as I was fascinated, things got dramatically bad. Anne wouldn’t stop saying quite private things about everyone who spoke, and Miss Stacy reprimanded her for spreading gossip, resulting in her being unable to come up with words to describe herself (the method used for introductions was everyone would use words starting with their initials to describe themselves. I really wanted to know what Anne would have said about herself, as nobody else seemed to struggle much with the exercise (although I myself always do when asked to do it).

Alright, now I’d like to add something to this. When Ruby describes herself as ‘romantic’ and looked for a G word for ‘Gillis’, I could swear she thought of a certain young man right to her left - heck, she even looked at him before quickly blurting out ‘girl’. Well, yeah, she is a girl. But she’s also defining herself through Gilbert too much. I hope she knows how much potential she has beyond him. Besides, he only has eyes for Anne. I wish we’d got another season so we could see how far Ruby and Moody go. I liked them, but we saw too little of them together. #renewannewithane

Ok, but... it was like Miss Stacy just finished Anne’s sentence. ‘Ruby has a crush on...’ ‘Gilbert Blythe?’ Well, yes, but that’s not what we’re talking about. See, I’m noticing details I did not deem significant enough to note down the first time around. This is what rewatches are for. 

Rachel Lynde needs Marilla’s help. That’s a first. Oh, well, it’s rumours, what else. She’s against Miss Stacy. I really don’t like her right now. 

No, seriously, what is happening to Bash?

Of course, what the mothers of Avonlea fail to see is that, female or not, trousers or nor, corset or not, Miss Stacy is much more capable of teaching the young minds of Avonlea school than her predecessor. Or at least she’s much more willing to educate them properly. Of course she’ll tutor Gilbert. And Anne will soon find her way into her good graces. I hope. Nay, I know it. 

‘Appalling, stupid, clueless...’ this is what I hoped wouldn’t happen, but it happened anyway. Now Anne is beating herself up for the scrape she got into by complete accident. Gosh, I hope someone can fix this.

From my old notes:  And again, Cole knows how to fix things, and he does so, brilliantly I would say. Also, with the way he goes out into the nature, raises his hands and shouts out “Come to me, Muse!”, I can totally see him being a pagan... and who’s to say he’s not? I mean, Anne has the makings of one too, remember the Beltane ritual in season 3?

Rachel’s only job seems to be to stick her nose in other people’s business. She has no right to go around asking about Muriel’s marital status and whether she wants to be an old maid. But as anyone who’s watched the full series knows, this will be carried over into season 3.

Seriously, Rachel right now reminds me of Anne earlier with all the gossip, and I see now why she (Anne) made such a bad impression on Miss Stacy. Unfortunately, she (Miss Stacy) cannot assign Rachel Lynde an essay.

Anne’s mind is all taken over by the fox... so much that she’s fallen asleep over her papers... and now, disaster after disaster lead to a small fire, which grows into a bigger fire. If Anne’s essay burns in it, I’ll literally cry. I know a thing or two about lost work. Why, half of this very post I had to write a second time after my computer decided to restart the page with the unsaved draft open. But hey, this is not about me. 

So I guess they’ve figuratively and literally forced Miss Stacy into a corset. That’s sad. But I see she’s not giving up on her unique identity.

Oh, great, now the found brothers are fighting. I guess it turns out Bash’s problem is he’s inexperienced in farming and he needs help, but Gilbert is pursuing his own future now and doesn’t seem to care all that much. I feel bad for Bash. But we know Gilbert will stay at least another year and Bash will figure farming out by the time he has to leave. 

Ah, I see Anne is feigning sickness so as not to go back to Miss Stacy after yesterday’s fiasco. Well, I’d do the same if I were her, but I’m not quite sure that’s the best solution to the problem at hand. Marilla’s suggestion seems much better to me. Going together so Anne has someone to vouch for her... reasonable and concerned like a true mother.

I see Bash is trying to figure out horse-riding on his own. It looks tough. But he can manage it. 

It’s a shame Jerry won’t help Anne with the trap... but well, he was promised good money, and his large family is so poor... the ends sort of justify the means here. Still, Matthew is not in the right to plan on skinning the fox for money. 

Gosh, things are heating up between Shirbert. Anne seems to be all the more determined to find and develop her vocation now that Gilbert is working on his. And he doesn’t seem to care much about her feelings right now, being so busy studying and all. But I wonder how this whole thing really makes him feel. 

Hey, there are the potato light bulbs! The first science lessons Miss Stacy teaches the class. And they never forget it. How inspiring!

Hey, I just realised something. In her ramble in the cold open, Miss Stacy mentioned that you can use potatoes for a lot of purposes... well, here’s the second one she demonstrates in this episode. Stamps and... lighting a bulb.

Marilla, who took up Miss Stacy’s offer to stay and observe, seems to be a new supporter of the young teacher. See? If people only gave her a chance and saw what she does and how she does it, she might soon be a hit in town. But no, some choose to condemn her instead, as if she’s ever done them wrong. Just like the fox. Except the fox stole some chickens. Miss Stacy is perfectly innocent. 

And... poor clumsy Moody had to ruin everything just as Rachel and the ProgressiveTM mothers came in. Too bad. But hey, it’s him who recalled this very first lesson later on when they were graduating, isn’t it? 

Hey, Bash has gone to see Mary. Things are getting serious. I guess.

Alas, the mothers are not too pleased with how the lesson turned out. Luckily, Marilla was there to see the whole thing from beginning to end and can support Miss Stacy in front of the rest of the women. And it seems Gilbert and Anne are ready to step in and defend her as well. On their second day with her. That speaks volumes. 

Oh, so he’s visiting Mary to talk about Gilbert. But he also talks about himself and his idea to go deep into farming. His story is truly an inspiring one. And also, he’s staying with Mary for supper. As I said, things are getting serious. 

Anne decided to show Miss Stacy the story clubhouse... nice. But she’s made another blunder in doing so. She’s forgotten Cole is hiding there from his parents. And now they’ll force him into farming again... as my younger self said when I saw this for the first time, ‘this episode is one of the most devastatingly dramatic ones of this series – ever. What a way to lead up to the season finale’. I think that says it all. 

Ah, yes, nobody told Gilbert that Bash wouldn’t be home for supper this evening. Too bad... now he’ll think Bash has run away on him. Meanwhile, Bash is having a good time with Mary. But there’s no way for Gilbert to know that. How unfortunate. 

One shot, one gunshot and... wait, it seems the fox has not been killed yet. But the poor clubhouse... Billy is the worst person in this series, hands down. I can’t even. I’m crying. Real tears. Right now.

See, Anne’s blunder was not telling Miss Stacy about Cole. After all, she swore her to secrecy. But it was a blunder nonetheless because Miss Stacy takes her duty as a teacher more seriously than her promise to Anne. If only she’d known the full story... Cole might have been saved. 

Miss Stacy riding with Harmon Andrews... I wonder what Rachel, aka the Avonlea yellow pages, will make of that. 

‘Sometimes you just have to use your imagination.’ This is powerful because it comes from Marilla. Also, perhaps this is the hidden sense of humour that L.M.Montgomery talked about in the book, which I’m currently rereading. 

I can’t, I just can’t. Now Cole feels betrayed by Anne, and Anne is devastated about the clubhouse.... and the women of Avonlea are against Miss Stacy, and Matthew disappointed Anne... can nobody be happy in this episode? It’s truly tragical and devastating. I should not have opted for rewatching it right before going to bed, on a school night at that. How will I sleep now?

Gosh, Cole really has had it now. I’m not saying Billy Andrews did not deserve it (he did and he does), but violence is never the answer. Still, I guess it’s justified now. Too bad it will probably lead to even more trouble for Cole. See, even he’s scared of what he’s done. He surely didn’t mean for it to go that far. And to the creators - this is no way to end an episode.

Let’s sum up: we meet Miss Stacy; intonation matters; the fox is in danger; Billy the bully has a weapon now - how bad can things get?; Bash struggles with farming; Anne accidentally makes a bad impression on a kindred spirit; appalling, stupid, clueless; ‘Come to me, Muse!’; Rachel Lynde sticks her nose into things that are not her business - what else is new; potato light bulbs; Bash visits Mary; the clubhouse is destroyed; Anne accidentally betrays Cole, leading to dramatic consequences; a disastrous ending to a devastating episode.

#anne with an e #awae #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #diana barry #ruby gillis #prissy andrews #billy andrews #moody spurgeon #muriel stacy #marilla cuthbert #matthew cuthbert #rachel lynde #renewannewithane #renew anne with an e #saveannewithane #save anne with an e #jnk #jnk watches awae #awae 2x9 #queue're bigger than that

[redrobin-detective]

together or not at all

I’ve been binging Erasermic stuff all day and my heart is FULL so I just opened up a post and started typing, never looking back.

XxX

Shouta and Hizashi were not type you’d think would date.

They were an odd couple throughout their time at Yuuei, still staggering from the wounds of going from a trio to a duo midway through their second year. Shouta was quiet, dour and took everything too seriously. Hizashi, meanwhile, was loud, silly, borderline wild with his frequent advertisements for his podcast during slow class events. 

There was no official announcement or anything, just one day, at the end of their second year they were spotted holding hands on the roof. It was grief that brought them together, everyone said when they were sure the couple wouldn’t hear. Once they graduated, they’d move onto to partners they were actually compatible with. Hizashi and Shouta paid the rumors no mind, holding each other close during stolen moments in the hallway, tender hand touches during patrols. On graduation day, while everyone else threw their caps into the wind, Shouta held up his cap in front of their faces and kissed his boyfriend as cherry blossoms blew into their hair. Their future together started now. 

They moved in together right away, scraping together what little cash they had to rent a small beaten down apartment. Shouta let Hizashi carry him over the threshold for the first time after it was theirs, only because it made his boyfriend stupidly happy. There wasn’t much of a demand these days for new grad heroes, not when All Might was there to protect all of Japan with power to spare. Hizashi got a gig as a sidekick for a low-ranked hero that paid more in experience than in actual money. Shouta worked at a cat cafe and local bookstore, unable to find work yet as an underground hero. Every night they came home, exhausted and collapsed together on their second hand mattress that didn’t even have a bed frame. They held each other close in lieu of heating and found it warm enough.

Hizashi’s powerful quirk and outgoing personality made him popular and soon he was employed by a more well known hero which gave him lots of exposure and an increased salary. When his first paycheck hit, he ran down to the shelter and got the black and grey cat Shouta had been wanting to adopt for ages. When his boyfriend came home from his shift at the cafe and found a kitten with a bow around his neck patrolling around the apartment, Shouta looked as if an angel had appeared before him. Needless to say, Hizashi was rewarded well for that particular present. 

Shouta’s contacts finally put him through the proper channels and he hit the streets as an independent agent. It paid less than his other two jobs had but Hizashi could see how much it meant to Shouta to be out there doing good, doing what he was made to do. However, he didn’t like how much damage Shouta took in those early days. He swears he spent all their extra money on first aid equipment; patching up scrapes and burns, icing bruises and stitching up deep cuts. So many nights he dreamed he would come home to an empty apartment, waiting in vain for Shouta to return. On those awful nights, he’d wake up in a sweat and see Shouta beside him, breathing deeply in sleep and promise himself it would never come to that.

Hizashi brought up marriage first, awkwardly and full of jitters the summer of their 21st year, 3 years since they’d become pro heroes and 6 since they’d first met. “Okay,” Shouta had shrugged, going back to playing with their cat, Oreo. Confused, elated and bit nauseous, Hizashi dropped the subject but started looking at ring options in secret. It was Shouta, however, who actually proposed.

His depression and a flare up of his chronic fatigue syndrome later that fall had him feeling worse than ever. The anniversary of Shirokumo’s death was just around the corner and crime was trending upwards all over Japan. He only saw Hizashi for a handful of hours over a week as they rushed from one disaster to another. One rare morning they awoke together, Shouta forgot to kiss him goodbye as he was summoned to help the police take down a particularly nasty villain. The fight was brutal, two heroes and six officers were critically injured and one hero died, slowly and painfully in Shouta’s arms. Underneath the blood, his hair was blond and all Shouta could think about afterwards was the carelessly missed kiss that morning.

He flung himself at Hizashi when he came to pick Shouta up, clutching his best friend and boyfriend’s face reverently with bloodstained hands. “Marry me, Hizashi,” he choked out in a rush. “And promise me you’ll never leave.” 

“Never Shouta never,” Hizashi had wept, crying the tears his other half wouldn’t, holding him close. “It’s together or not at all.” 

In the end, it was a simple affair, neither had anything to prove with a grand wedding. They purchased rings, rented out a small back room in a bar and stood before a judge and a few friends as witness as they exchanged their vows. Hizashi cried and Shouta never complained of dry eye that day. They celebrated at the bar, drinking and laughing until it was the wee hours of the morning. Shouta was completely inebriated, unable to walk or form sentences. Hizashi swept his groom off of his feet and, once more, carried him over the threshold of their place. He banged Shouta’s head on the door frame trying to get the two of them through the narrow entryway.

“Clumsy bastard,” Shouta hissed, clutching at his head. “Wait til my husband gets aholda you.” 

“You’re not gonna have to wait long,” Hizashi said, waggling his eyebrows as he kicked the door shut. Shouta regretted drinking so much the next morning when  his head and stomach protested. Hizashi danced in with some seltzer water in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the others. Luckily his drinking was his only regret from yesterday. 

They kept their marriage private, both for Shouta’s growing career as an underground hero and simply for their own privacy. It wasn’t a secret, just not advertised. They celebrated their one year anniversary in the hospital, Hizashi having fractured his spine after a building fell on him. Shouta spoon fed him little bits of preserved wedding cake when his husband was awake enough. They moved to a bigger place, somehow acquired two more cats when Hizashi wasn’t looking and spent a lot of weekends cuddled together on Nemuri’s couch misremembering bad stories from high school.

“Shouta,” Hizashi said one evening as he chopped up some leeks for their dinner. “Nemuri is going to start teaching at Yuuei soon.”

“As if she didn’t traumatize enough kids when she was a student,” Shouta said dully as he looked over police reports. “What of it?”

“I was thinking of applying too,” he said casually. “All Might taking personal leave means its more dangerous out there, I think it would be nice to train the next generation of heroes.” He glanced at his husband out of the corner of his eye.

“You can,” Shouta frowned, moving his papers in front of his face to avoid Hizashi’s puppy dog eyes. Also so he wouldn’t see the stitches over his right eye and the bruises around it. Being a hero was dangerous work, being a teacher? Less so. 

“Oh come on babe, you’d be great with kids,” Hizashi said, abandoning his cutting to drape himself over the counter. “You have this stern but steady authoritative manner but you’re soft enough that it’s not intimidating.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Shouta sighed. “Sign up if you want to, but you’re already busy with patrols and your radio show.”

“I thought it might be good practice,” Hizashi teased, tugging down Shouta’s papers away from his face. “For when we decide to have kids.”

“We are not having kids,” Shouta said with an eye roll.

“That’s what they always say,” Hizashi said in a little sing-song tone. Shouta ignored him, pulling the papers closer to his face. “Come on Shouta, you were just telling me the other day how sloppy the latest rookie heroes have been without All Might around to pick up the slack. We can help change things at Yuuei, Nedzu-sensei is principle now. I know you’ve been dying to change the parameters of the entrance exam.”

“Stupid, worthless, prejudiced exam,” Shouta mumbled under his breath and Hizashi grinned, dropping it into a casual smile when his husband lowered the papers to glare at him. “You just want me to cut down on my patrol hours.”

“Maybe a little,” Hizashi shrugged, leaning over to loving tap piano keys on his husband’s arm. “Or maybe I miss seeing you every day and working as teachers would give us some structure. I fell in love with you in those hallways, Shouta. Is it so bad I want that again?”

“Tell Nemuri to get me an application,” Shouta grumbled. “I can’t guarantee I’ll sign up or anything but I’ll look it over. One year, maybe even one semester and then I’m done.”

“Well if you do it, I’m doing it,” Hizashi beamed, leaning up to chin Shouta’s scratchy chin before pulling back and working on the meal again. “Together or not at all, remember?” 

“Hard to forget when you’re still here,” Shouta said but a small smile was tugging on his lips as they fell into a companionable silence, thinking about the past and what they had lost and all the things they stood to gain from the future. Shouta and Hizashi were not the couple you expected to see, much less to marry and stay together through thick and thin. Luckily though, outside perceptions and expectations did not determine the course of a relationship; some things stayed between best friends and partners and lovers. 

Shouta would find himself tangling his fingers on the chain with his wedding ring around his neck, watching his husband joke around with their students. Hizashi would grin up at him and mime him a quick kiss. Shouta would snort fondly but not break his gaze. Some loves could endure just about anything. 

#erasermic #idk how good this is i just opened up and started typing without stopping #also another fic title i stole from doctor who #im feeling the erasermic in this chilis tonight #I uh messed with vigilante lore a little bit mostly their early marriage and teacher timeline #they just strike me as messy early 20 somethings who got married young and recklessly but the love was strong enough to endure #they grew into and around ach other #ad;c/osvo;ia;/l fuCK i forgot to incorporate deaf hizashi which is like my favorite #shit its almost bedtime I dont want to rework it now #I'll do it uhhh Sunday #anyway I love them