#so it's highly likely he'd only find out when he rolled in town for another business trip

[merakiui]

Mera Mera Mera! Thoughts on twst boys if you tell them "no more sex" after an argument. Pretty please! 🥺🙏 💙 (You characterize them so well, I'm certain you can bless us with knowledge)

>:D I may have a few thoughts on the reactions!!! I shall bless you with said thoughts (i.e. twst cast being petty and silly).

Riddle - he's perfectly silent when he tears out the page in his life planner titled "dick appointments" and rips it in half in front of you. "Would you look at that? It appears my schedule's become open." He proceeds to fill the time slots with academics and club activities. Your "no more sex" rule goes both ways, but if you find yourself unable to bear it he might consider penciling you into his schedule. ...if it ever frees up, that is. :)

Trey - "Yeaaah, I had that coming," he admits with a sheepish chuckle. Trey very rarely argues with you. Ever. So maybe it was one-sided, but he still goes along with it to keep you happy and to end the argument as quickly as possible. He'll smooth things over by baking you your favorite sweet. He can be patient and wait if you're still stubbornly insisting on no more sex, but that doesn't mean he won't tease you often.

Cater - "Cowabummer." Yes, that's all he says. Yes, he gives you the sad thumbs-down and everything. Cater cannot be /srs for this one because if he's /srs you'll see the /srs sides of him that he'd rather hide behind a /j personality. (He later makes it up to you by apologizing and taking you into town to your favorite places. <3 you end up fucking in the changing stall in one of the clothing stores hehe.)

Ace - he rolls his eyes and laughs. "I never even wanted to fuck you anyways. You're, like, super mid." (He's lying. Please don't ban him from having sex with you. </3 This is how he's apologizing later.

Deuce - he's genuinely devastated. Nooo, what do you mean "no more sex"? D: that's not even the worst of it, though. Deuce is just sad that the both of you argued and that he said some things he's not very proud of. He was really mean and so were you. What were you even arguing about in the first place? Deuce's heart aches knowing you're so upset at him, so he does everything he can to make it up to you. It's fine if you don't want sex anymore; he just wants you to be happy.

Leona - he highly doubts you're serious. "Sure, okay. We'll see about that one," he tells you with a lazy half-smirk. "Good luck with that, herbivore." (he's so hot when you wake up next to him in the mornings and he has that rough morning voice...... you end up fucking the following day, too weak to his charms to keep up with your no sex promise. Leona teases you for that.)

Ruggie - "I'll live," he says with a shrug. Sure, it sucks that you no longer want to fuck and it also sucks that the two of you even argued in the first place, but he'll live. You and Ruggie are distant for all of one day before coming back together to sincerely apologize. He's a little awkward with his apology, but it does indeed come from the heart. Perhaps there's some makeup sex that follows...

Jack - another one who is more upset over the actual argument than your admission of no more sex. Jack feels so bad. :( his ears are flattened on his head and his tail is drooped; he's just so sad that he argued with you and made you angry. He was out of line and shouldn't have let his emotions get the best of him. If no more sex is what you truly want, he'll abide by that.

Azul - "Angelfish, I understand you're upset, but do you truly mean that?" You do, and you storm out of his VIP room and ghost him for the rest of the day. Azul goes through the five stages of grief within the span of a few hours. T_T he's a wreck, not only because you said no more sex but because you argued and you're angry with him and you probably hate him now and what if you break up and you never want to see him again and and and and and !!!!!!!! Sad tako hours.

Jade - he smiles patiently. "If you say so." (his compliance is too obedient; don't let him fool you. He's going to spike your drink with an aphrodisiac and then when you come to him begging for release he'll deny you in the same way you denied him.)

Floyd - "Shrimpy, c'mon, ya can't be serious." You turn away from him with a huff, arms folded over your chest. "S'not funny, Shrimpy..." He pouts at you, brows knitted in annoyance. You look him dead in the eyes and snap back with, "Good. Cuz I'm not joking, Floyd." (Floyd's in a foul mood for the rest of the day; no one dares go near him. His aura is too threatening...)

Kalim - if it's your first argument with him, he's genuinely compelled to throw a party celebrating it LOL. Kalim means well with it, too, which makes it arguably worse. ^^;;; but he is indeed very sad that things got to this point and that you were so angry with him that you even said no more sex! He sulks sadly. :( will a parade make you feel better? Or do you want more renovations done to Ramshackle? Do you want gemstones? Just tell him how he can make it up to you and he'll do it! He's so very sorry! >_<

Jamil - he rolls his eyes, shooting you an unamused look. "Very mature of you, (Name)." Jamil isn't going to entertain the argument anymore. If you want to talk things over, you can do that after you and he have cooled off. Although if he's truly intent on getting your forgiveness and nullifying your no sex rule right away, a little hypnosis might do the trick...

Vil - he gives you a critical look. "What does sex have anything to do with this?" If you're going to argue with Vil, argue about the subject matter and don't bring unrelated topics into it! >:( arguments with Vil always make you feel so bad because essentially he tells you to do better and think about your conduct. Of course he also reflects on how he acted and what even led up to the argument in the first place. Even his apology, though heartfelt and authentic, is so perfect.

Rook - "Mon amour, lovely trickster whom I adore most, oh, how you wound me!" He's so dramatic about it, but then he also wholeheartedly means it when he says and acts like that. "Shall we share a kiss of forgiveness and allow water to flow freely under the bridge once more?" He is truly sorry, but then he's sneaky when he's slipping his tongue into your mouth as if he's trying to drag your apology out of your throat and taste it in his mouth.

Epel - "Consarn it!" He's huffy, glaring at you with his cheeks puffed out. "If yer gonna throw a hissy fit and say no more in-out, in-out, then don't come crawlin' to me when yer feelin' it!" Of course he then storms off and is promptly scolded by Vil for such atrocious behavior. Epel realizes he was wrong for getting so worked up and he'll later apologize to you. You apologize as well, but for the rest of the week there will be no more sex. Epel thinks that's fair. He sort of deserved that one. T_T

Idia - "Wutever. I don't need 3D to be happy." He rolls his eyes and the argument ends there. (Idia later spends an entire week locked away in his room building a (Name) sex doll to make up for the lack of your touch.)

Malleus - poor Hornton... :( he sulks in the darkness of his room and no one knows the reason for why he's so upset. Sebek is distraught; whoever dared to put waka-sama in this sad mood will pay!!!!!! Telling Malleus no more sex makes him think you don't want him anymore and that you essentially are breaking up (which is not the case). Diasomnia feels the gloomy atmosphere for days to come. It's Lilia who finally manages to convince Malleus to come out of his room and go to you for a chat to resolve things.

Lilia - "Oh dear. That's rather unfortunate." Even though he says this, he doesn't seem very affected or surprised or even remotely upset. But then Lilia's been through countless arguments, some far more severe than the one he just had with you, so he knows how to navigate these sorts of things. He's very mature about it and respects your no more sex rule. In fact, he's going to keep track of how many days you go with no sex before you inevitably forgo this rule for sloppy, heartfelt makeup sex with him, which he'll gladly indulge in.

Silver - it's probably impossible to argue with Silver. He's just so sweet. How could you ever get into any sort of argument with him? But if you did find yourself at a disagreement, he'd do whatever he could to resolve it and make you feel better. If no more sex is what makes you happy, then there will be no more sex.

Sebek - "SO BE IT, HUMAN. I DO NOT REQUIRE YOUR TOUCH OR INTIMACY TO SURVIVE, NOR DO I WANT IT." He's so LOUD. The entire hall ends up learning more than they'd ever want to about your and Sebek's argument. ;;;; he rants about you and your audacity to Silver (who's half-asleep), and so it's obvious he's affected. Sebek refuses to apologize because he's stubborn, but he realizes he misses you quite a lot. :( no one point that out, though, or else he'll yell at them that that's not true whatsoever!!!!

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw

[airyravenmaid]

As someone who's been secretly teetering around the SAGAU (that's "Self-Aware Genshin AU" for those who aren't aware 🥁) tag and works while thoroughly enjoying a lot of them, I think today's finally the day I put my own two cents in on it. Particularly, my two cents about how a certain redheaded owl stud would act in that verse. By all means, no hate to anybody who's written him any differently in their SAGAU stuff-- we're all here to have fun and junk; this is just how I personally think he'd be. You are free to disagree with any and everything I have to say under the cut, but I will have no badmouthing or the like.

Being perfectly honest, I haven't really seen much of Diluc in a ton of SAGAU works outside of him either being part of the "get the 'Imposter'" mob or individually attacking us if he comes across us solo and isn't in the know that we the reader are the real deal. Basically, he's more or less just kinda lumped in with the other highly devoted followers of the Creator without really standing out much in the plot. And, nothing particularly wrong with that, no, no, no, but here's where my hee-ho funny hot take comes in:

I don't actually think Diluc would really worship the Creator. In fact, I don't think he'd even like us at first. *Sojiro voice* Let me explain!

Diluc Ragnvindr is, in every sense of the word, a disenchanted young man. Now, we know he wasn't born as such, but we have the Knights of Favonius disgracing Crepus' death while the wound was still fresh and the falling out between Diluc and Kaeya upon the latter's revelation as a Khaenri'ahn spy to blame for that. Blah, blah, blah, that's right, we heard the story, over and over again, so, where does this tie into my personal interpretation of his thoughts on the Creator, you may ask? Well!

In the happier, more idealistic years before all hell broke loose on his 18th birthday, Diluc most likely did worship and revere the Creator per his upbringing since I think Crepus also worshipped them like a good chunk of Mondstadt does. No problems there. But, where was the "all-powerful, ever-benevolent" God of Teyvat when he'd lost his father and brother on that same, horrible night in different ways? What did they do when the Knights of Favonius openly spat on his father's name just to save their undeserved reputation? What did they give him during that four-year suicide mission he spent indiscriminately hunting Fatui agents before promptly getting the ban of a lifetime from the entire Nation of Cryo?

Nowhere, nothing, and radio silence.

Just another unreliable let-down added to the list, and another knife to his back.

(Imposter AU-wise) So, come present day, when the Great Big Phony™ drops and takes a throne that very much does not belong to them, everybody's over the moon and pulling out all the stops for their beloved God... except Diluc. Now, he's not so stupid that he openly badmouths the apparent Creator since that would get him some pretty unpleasant looks and land him in rather hot water, so instead, he shows no open reaction while rolling his eyes and scoffing at them wherever people can't see or hear. And, if we're going with the traditional portrayal of the Imposter being an uncaring tyrant, his already diminished opinion of the Creator's image is only further soured. He does nothing to damper or criticize anybody's faith since it's far from his place to, but they certainly won't see him joining in any day of the week, either.

And then comes the "Imposter", who's actually the true Creator that's been jiffy-popped into Genshin's world from the real one. Now, while he thinks it's beyond ridiculous that the people of Mondstadt and the Knights of Favonius (though, not as much surprise for the latter-- always so inefficient...) find it just to hunt down and torture somebody solely for looking like the Creator especially since nobody in town gives a shit that Venti and Barbatos look disturbingly alike for reasons only he (plus Jean and maybe Kaeya, if his Hangout implies anything) knows without actually presenting themselves as an active threat to humanity like, say, the Abyss Order or the Fatui, Diluc still can't help but secretly hand it to the alleged Imposter for being the first to have the guts to knock that "divine do-nothing" down a peg in some way, even if it is considered quite the risky move.

Should he encounter us while we're running for our lives worse for the wear for the above reason (and truly confirming that we mean no real harm and are just a victim of very unfortunate circumstance), Diluc is open to helping us get away safely under the radar and giving false info to the KoF like he did in his Story Quest since getting caught helping Teyvat's most wanted by the mob would not end well for him, either. And, he's pretty amicable when patching us up... but then he sees the dried gold blood and scars all over our body and realizes exactly who we really are. No, he doesn't do a full 180 and start blastin', but Diluc sure is now a lot colder towards us than he already is in general. Still helps us out, but we can taste the sudden mood drop. At some point, we discover his resent towards us for (from his perspective; can't exactly explain that we didn't actually make any of the characters' backstories since we're not HoYoverse and whatnot bc that wouldn't make sense to anyone in Genshin within the confines of the Creator!Reader AU without us sounding completely crazy) being seemingly nowhere to be seen around his and others' suffering despite being the God of All Gods capable of doing literally anything to help it, but simply choosing not to. Even if the Reader rightfully says they didn't do anything, Diluc's cold rebuttal is something along the lines of "No. You didn't.", and it's not the least bit reassuring.

If he were to stick around with us a bit longer during our escape from Mondstadt/whirlwind journey, then Diluc would come to understand that we really weren't as in control of everything bad happening to him or the world as he initially believed, especially if in his misguided blaming, it causes Reader to develop one HELL of a guilt complex feeling like they are responsible for fixing everything if it means putting an end to all the nonsense and abuse some of their once-beloved characters/acolytes are putting them through. Granted, the actual Imposter does have to be stopped and dethroned for all the shit they're pulling, but that's really all that falls on us as the unfortunate hero.

Other than that condition, though, we basically have someone that's thankfully not looking to hunt us down for absurd reasons and even helps us in our need, but at the same time curses us for letting him and many others down by not acting in some way when it mattered most.

#SAGAU #Genshin SAGAU #SAGAU Diluc #Imposter AU #SAGAU x Reader #(Had to rewrite this bc I accidentally deleted it; gdi) #idk if I should tag this as specific character x reader bc it's rly not #Just me brainstorming and junk for better wording #And again; merely my personal interpretation; it is not meant to discredit or diss any other ones

[rhysismydaddy]

Prisoner's Game Pt. 1 (Rowaelin)

Synopsis: Aelin Galathynius never thought of herself as a vengeful woman. Until her boyfriend not only testifies, but leads a case against her that lands her in prison for the rest of her life. Post I-Love-You's. He didn't believe her, and she's about to show him that not only is she innocent, he made the worst mistake of his life betting against her. To a woman with nothing but time, life's just a game, after all.

The cinderblock wall dug into her back uncomfortably as she reclined against it, the air in the room was stale, and she hadn't showered in two days. By any measurement, Aelin Galathynius was far from her best.

And yet she somehow managed to look perfectly at ease--happy even--as she lounged in her cell, toying with the ends of her too-long hair.

It was a ruse, of course, just a little trick to piss off the man currently stomping into her space. By the flare of Rowan Whitehorn's eyes, it worked.

"Hello, Rowan," she greeted pleasantly, giving him a little smile and acting like it wasn't taking everything in her not to use the makeshift knife under her pillow to gut him like the spineless coward he was.

She could tell, even across her 8x12 cell, that he was gritting his teeth and fighting a similar action.

The heel of his expensive Italian loafers clicked as he walked across the space to the small table and took a seat at the steel chair in front of it. He tried to push it out further, but stopped when he realized it was bolted to the floor.

"Aelin," he said back, none of the so-obvious anger he was feeling present in his voice. "Been a long time."

Eight years, six months, three weeks, two days, and thirteen hours.

Not that she was counting or anything.

She nodded her agreement, reclining further on the bed and crossing her legs as if she was in the finest dress she owned, not a faded orange jumpsuit.

"What brings you to my side of town, Rowan? Here to finally switch sides and represent me?"

Dressed in a two-thousand dollar suit and tie, hair perfectly gelled back, he looked like he was successful a lawyer meeting with a wealthy client, but they both knew the last thing he'd ever do was work for her.

"You know why I'm here."

She did indeed, but she still said, "I must be exceptionally smart to know why you've come all the way here-"

"Cut the shit," he snapped, finally losing a bit of his cool. He regained it quickly, though, and continued, "I want to know how you did it."

She frowned at her split ends. "Did what?"

Rowan waited until she looked at him to respond. "You know what."

Sighing so deeply it should've rattled the walls, she said, "I can't believe I've spent the last eight years thinking you underestimated my intelligence. You clearly think I'm some sort of oracle genius."

Rowan mimicked her sigh, and she bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

Probably trying to stall, he spent a moment looking at her cell, at the completely bare walls and lack of photographs. All she had was the tally marks drawn in pencil on one wall and a dusty chess set sitting on the table.

When he'd taken inventory of those two things, he sat and just looked at her.

It was clear she wouldn't admit to knowing exactly why he sat in front of her, and he was simply putting off being the one to fold.

Predictable, proud little man.

Eventually, he took his loss and said, "I want to know how you managed to rob me from inside the most secure prison in Rifthold."

She smiled, a full, undulated smile she hadn't used in a long time.

She'd been planning this moment since the day the bars had locked behind her, and it felt damn good to finally see it come to fruition.

According to what she'd heard, definitely not what she knew from personal experience, the private vault in Rowan's apartment had been broken into. Apparently, only one thing was missing: an antique dagger that had been handed down in the family and was now worth over a million bucks.

"Why do you think it was me?" she asked, still smiling.

He gritted his teeth some more, and she internally snickered at the idea he'd have permanent tooth damage because of her. Something else to remember her by.

Green eyes spitting flames at her, he growled, "You left a goddamn business card."

Aelin forced her eyes up to the empty bed above her head, trying her hardest not to laugh. "Maybe I'm being framed?"

"Your fingerprints were on it."

She did laugh then, then laughed some more when his eyes narrowed. He looked like he was about to strangle her. "Rowan, in case you haven't noticed, I'm incarcerated."

She gestured around them to her cell to prove her point.

The bastard just smiled.

Of course he knows that, she thought bitterly, forcing her hand back to her lap and away from where it'd started to creep toward the pillow.

"So how would I rob you?" she asked, getting her mind back on track.

"That's what you're going to tell me," he demanded angrily. "I want to know how you got out of here, got all the way across Rifthold, broke into my apartment, and stole from me without any surveillance camera picking it up."

Aelin ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it just right. When she caught sight of the impatience on his face, she fluffed it some more and readjusted the thin jacket on her shoulders.

It was always too damn cold in this place. She hadn't been warm in almost nine years.

Because of him.

Just for that, she fluffed her hair some more.

Then she said simply, "I didn't."

"Stop lying!" he shouted at her, eyes flashing.

She wasn't, but that was besides the point.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes like he'd won. "I got my cousin to-"

"Aedion spent the night in Wendlyn. His travel is verified, and there are at least a hundred eye witnesses that witnessed him singing karaoke all night. Stop. Fucking. Lying."

Once again, she wasn't lying.

Aedion sure as hell hadn't been in Wendlyn last night. She'd just wanted to make sure his alibi was air-tight as planned.

Sighing again, she asked, "Rowan, even if I did do it, why the hell would I tell you about it?"

His jaw worked for a moment, and she could tell whatever he was about to say was difficult for him. "I'll get time off your sentence if you tell me what you've done with it."

She tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help it.

It burst out of her, full and uncontrollable, and she flopped over on the dirty mattress and howled for a good few minutes.

He glared at her, looking for all the world like he was experiencing a portion of the rage she was made of, but regardless of the threat in his eyes, she took her time composing herself.

"I'm serving ten consecutive life sentences, you idiot."

One for each and every one of her "victims."

"I'll make it nine," he offered generously.

"Even if I was a cat, that'd still leave me dying in a prison cell. Offer me something else."

He just glared at her, unwilling to give her anything she could actually use or want. Just like she'd expected.

"That's what I thought. So no, Rowan Whitehorn, I'm not accepting your little deal. You can think I robbed you all you want; hell, you can even know, in your famous gut, that I did it." She tilted her head, a cruel smile filling her lips. "But it isn't about what you believe, it's about what you can prove. Isn't that right?"

His eyes shuttered at the words, and just like that, they were sucked into the memory of all those years ago.

~Eight years ago~

~Rowan~

Rowan rolled over, edging away from the woman next to him carefully as to not wake her.

Her hair was spread out on his chest, her soft hand was on his stomach, and her leg was draped over his. By all accounts, she was all over him.

And it felt so fucking good.

He'd never met anyone like Aelin before. Anyone so full of life, so hilariously open.

It was like she was constantly on fire, flitting from one place to the next with endless energy and jabs about him being too old and slow.

"What are you going?" she murmured, nails digging in slightly to keep him where he was.

"To get some water. Go back to sleep."

He leaned down and kissed her brow, and she sighed happily and rolled over. Like a total cliché, he watched her sleep for a moment, trying to get his feelings under control.

They'd been seeing each other for less than a year, but he couldn't imagine his life without her. He was in love with her, and if the way she acted and smiled around him was any indication, she loved him, too.

He ran a thumb over her cheekbone, smiling when she tilted her face into his touch.

He was whipped, and he didn't even care.

Rowan shook his head at himself, pulled on a pair of boxers, padded to the kitchen, and held a glass under the faucet.

Then frowned as it sputtered.

He figured he'd at least make himself useful, knowing damn well she would never agree to call the plumber when she could "figure out how to fix it herself on Youtube."

So he knelt down in her kitchen and opened the cabinet door, trying to see what the problem with the pipe was.

Except he never got that far.

His eyes got stuck on the piece of paper sticking out under a false piece of wood covering the back panel.

Knowing it was wrong to pry but somehow unable to stop himself, he tugged the paper loose.

Then fell backwards to his ass, heart hammering and brain spinning as he read it over and over again.

The list of names wasn't long, but all ten of the people on it were highly distinguished members of society.

And they were all dead.

He wouldn't know that, since the death of the last person on the list wasn't even public record yet, but he was the attorney working with the police to find the killer.

Why did she have this list?

And what did the numbers next to the names mean?

One way or another, he knew he had to find out. He also knew he couldn't ask her. He was in too deep, too unbiased to know whether or not she was lying.

He didn't trust himself with her, so he'd have to go the traditional route.

He took a picture of the paper quickly, tucking it back where he'd found it. He snuck back in the room to get dressed, leaving her a note he had to go to work.

He thought he was going to be sick as he left her apartment, a feeling suspiciously similar to dread coiling in his stomach.

There was only one way she could know that last name, only one explanation that made sense.

But he had to know for sure. Had to know if he'd been an idiot this past year; an idiot who'd spent almost every night sleeping next to the killer he'd been searching for.

So he started investigating his girlfriend.

Six days later, he found the security deposit boxes and the murder weapons inside, still covered in dried blood that would be matched to the victims. All with Aelin's prints on them.

Two days after that, the woman he'd thought was the love of his life was arrested on ten counts of murder.

Despite the tears she shed, despite the promises she made to him, despite the love she claimed to have for him, Rowan told the cops everything.

Even though he couldn't imagine her killing anyone.

"It doesn't matter what I believe, it matters what I can prove."

That was the last thing he'd said to her, right as she was being dragged out of the court room and yelling at him to believe her.

The truth of the matter was that when it came down to it, he didn't trust her enough. The facts were against her, everyone on the jury had been against her, and in the end, Rowan was too.

~Present~

~Aelin~

Rowan shook his head, almost like he needed to clear it from the memory they'd obviously both been immersed in, and she smiled.

She hoped what happened all those years ago still haunted him, hoped he went to sleep at night thinking about her and the betrayal he'd served to her on a silver platter.

The first year of her sentence, she was so lost in emotion--in the rage and confusion and deep, deep hurt--that she couldn't bring herself to do anything.

He hadn't even bothered to ask her first. That's what had hurt the worst.

He'd seen that stupid, stupid list and had jumped to the first conclusion possible.

She knew it had looked bad, had looked like she was guilty, but she'd thought that if the worst happened, he'd at least ask her to explain before slapping the cuffs on her.

But he hadn't. She'd gone to prison, and his career had exploded into stardom from the success of the case.

"See, Rowan, when you refused to accept any other explanation other than the easy one, you made a mistake. Because I didn't kill those people."

He rolled his eyes. "Aelin-"

"And I'm not only going to prove it," she continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I'm going to ruin your precious little life while I do it. Just like you did mine."

She stood, put a hand on the steel table, and leaned over him.

"If you want it to stop, all you have to do is drop these bullshit murder charges and issue a public apology for locking me up in the first place."

He stood too, so close his loafers brushed the toe of her dusty, prison issued sneakers.

"That's never going to happen," he promised, voice uncompromising and angry.

Aelin smiled, having predicted his reaction down to the facial expression.

His pride, she'd decided, would be the first thing to go.

She reached around him to slide the pawn on the chess board forward, leaned in even further, and whispered, "Let the game begin, then."

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan #rowan whitehorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction

[herstarburststories]

You Have A Home

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: After a call from Y/N, Sam comes back town to help -- and brings Dean with him.

Requests: N°1 heyhey, could you do a Sam x reader where they went to college togehter and later meet again and they realise their feelings for eachother...xx + N°2: can you do a college sam headcanon with medicine student reader

A/N: This was fun! The monster here is mentioned in season 6, when the boys ask Bobby for advice on how to kill it. This is my first Samgirl long imagine, with Dean being the flirty he is. I wrote this almost one year ago, so it's more crude and I'm nervous to be posting it! And my piece for @cajunquandary 's 600 challenge, my prompt was monster of the week. Dividers by @talesmaniac89!

Dean's eyes remained on the road when the bitter statement left his body, tangled with a wry chuckle, “I can't believe you are still in touch with those people.”

“Those people?” Sam arched elbows, slightly skeptical by his brother's tone, “They were my friends, Dean.”

“Sammy, all our friends? Dead. They all die. Or worse.” He glanced at him for a moment, pursing his lips together. It might not be an easy assignment, but was part of the job. Sammy had tried to run away plenty times and always came back, when would he understand? “We don't get to have friends. You should've learned that.”

“They are not our friends, they are my friends. Also, they don't know about the hunting life, they aren't in harm.” Sammy hissed once the other locked his green eyes on the road again. Dean sighed, moving one hand away and up from the steering wheel in a rendition gesture.

“Whatever you say, man. I'm just warning you, this doesn't usually end up good for them.”

Sam scoffed, Dean could get on his nerves sometimes, “We saved many people that got to have a good life.”

“Yeah, but those people didn't know us before that. I told you when you left Stanford--”

“I didn't keep contact, okay!? I just... I just still have a phone that they have the number of. No social media, no calls on birthdays.” Nervously gesticulating, he added, “I know how to keep them safe, Dean.”

“So, old friend?” The eldest Winchester asked after the few minutes of silence that followed Sam's outburst, “Female old friend?”

“Yes. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Dean smirked, and Sam to rolled his eyes at his behavior, “Keep it in your pants.”

He'd let out a malicious laughter before turning on the radio, the first guitar sounds of AC/DC playing in the background.

“I think you'll be the one not keeping it, Sammy.”

“Hello?” The woman in nothing but a towel who had opened the door greeted them with a question, her brown eyes glaring at the two men with clear confusion.

Dean had no shame to check her out, innerly celebrating that she was still wet from her shower. Perhaps visiting Sam's friends wasn't that big mistake. “Hey, you.”

She grimaced at Dean for two seconds before turning her attention to Sam again, sudden recognition written on her face.

“Sam? Sam Winchester?” He nodded, smiling that light-hearted boyish grin at her. Not caring about her dressings, she just threw herself at Sammy, hugging him tightly. “I missed you!” She pulled away only to hit his shoulder. Her short stature didn't match Sam's, but he'd still make a grimace at her attempt of slap. “Why didn't you call? God, your hair grew a lot. Listen, I have some scissors.”

“Tried that, didn't work.” Dean interrupted their reencounter, trying to get in the conversation. An usual lopsided grin on his face, “Dean Winchester, Sam's brother.”

“Layla, Sam's friend.” She gave him a friendly smile in return, opening space for them to pass through the door before closing it, “Come in, I need to change in clothes.”

“I wouldn't even dream of that. Seriously.”

Layla would just wiggle one of her brows at Dean's comments, not impressed by it, “Ele é sempre assim? (Is he always like this?)”

Thankfully, Sam still remembered a bit of his friend's native language. He just chuckled, managing to apologize for Dean's typical Dean behavior, “Unfortunately. Sinto muito. (I'm sorry)”

“(Y/N) is in the kitchen. I'll be right back.” Her accent was thicking stronger duo the comfortability around Sam. Excusing herself, the caramel skinned girl leaded upstairs.

“What did she say?” Dean asked, side glancing at the path Layla had just gone on, not even sure of which language she'd just spoken, much less what was said. Sammy didn't bother replying, satisfied to grin at his obvxion brother. “Dude, come on!”

“Sam!” A well-known voice filled the room as the image of (Y/N) appeared in front of them, dressing your loyal cook's avental. You didn't think twice before jumping on Sam. “I missed you, giant!”

He, like always, caught you with a light-hearted laughter, “I missed you too, cupcake.” You two spent a few moments like this, enjoying each other's warm and long lost touch, until Dean cleared his throat. You finally went back to the ground, embarrassed by having a stranger to see that level of intimacy between you and Sam, “This is Dean, my--”

“Handsome brother. Hello, cupcake.” Dean was so going to tease Sam for the rest of his life for it.

“You really live up for Sam's description.” You giggled, heading towards the kitchen “Come in, I'm baking.”

“So, you and Layla still live together?”

“Most of the time, yes. You know how she is, comes and goes. Never wanted to stay in a place for too long and got a job that supported that.” The boys followed you, Dean examining the kitchen and trying to discover what you were cooking through the smell, while Sam couldn't take his eyes on you, “Apparently, just like you.”

Even though your back was facing them as you checked the food, the bite didn't pass unnoticed, “I had to leave, (Y/N)”

“I understand that, Sam. But you never called or texted. It was like I--” You quickly corrected yourself, “We never existed for you.”

“It's not like that.” Sam sighed, how could he justify? He knew you wouldn't buy a simple excuse. You were smart, and knew him too well to swallow a 'I went on a trip with my brother and just decided that college wasn't my deal' and leave it for that.

“I'm here!” Layla declared, arriving into the room with an excited smile, it was good to have the gang back together. Although, the tangible tension almost made her go back to the shower, “Am I interrupting something?”

“A sitcom DR.” Dean answered with sarcasm, spreading his figure on the chair when you turned around with an apple pie in your hands “What about we talk about the ca-- Is this pie?”

“We heard a scream followed by a loud roar and (Y/N) stayed near the camping part because there was still a signal and I went looking for who it was. When I got there, the thing ran away. Jorge's body... No human did that. His chest was cracked open irregularly, as if it was done by an animal and his heart looked weird. Like it was squeezed and drawn on up somehow?”

“We got a Samia.” Dean stated, relaxing on his spot. Some sault, rosemary and fire would do the job just fine, “Let me guess, it left a clawn near the body or inside it?”

Layla nodded, “Right in the chest or what lasted of it.”

“Are you okay? Finding the body in that state.” A comprehensive manner englobed Sam's question, whom noticed the normality with his friend described finding a shattered body.

“Just some guts.” She shrugged, a grimace was all the reaction they'd get. Crying wouldn't help, neither being terrorized as they expected her too. “I've seen Grey's Anatomy enough not to care about it.”

“Well, I'm literally a medicine student and I am still not okay with that. Especially after you made me go and check the body.” You argued, glaring at your best friend who'd only roll her eyes in response.

“I needed a professional to say if he was dead or not!”

“You need a therapist.”

Dean got up, looking straight at Layla. Time to play the hero in shining armor, “Don't worry with that, we will take care of it.”

Frowning, you were the one to respond, “Do you work for the police now or?”

“Are implying that we investigate it by ourselves?” Your best friend added.

Dean couldn't believe his brother. How the fuck did he let them get inside without saying they didn't know about the hunting business? It was a luck shot that they didn't think much when he said Samia.

“Nope. Not you two. We will do it.” The blonde one said, pointing at them with a smirk.

“I agree, we will do it.” Layla replied, matching his taunt smile.

“Sam, I'm not letting you and your brother do it by yourself. Jorge was my professor, I knew him. Besides, we found the body.” You got on your feet and crossed your arms, waiting for a response. Sam always had a sort of hero complex, ready to help no matter what, but there was no way you'd be letting him go into danger with his brother. Getting in your dormitory to kill a cockroach back then or facing an idiot during a bar fight to protect one of your friends was something, but this? They were talking about looking for an assassin. What if something happened to him? You were the one who called. All on you. The thought of Sam getting hurt for any reason was unbearable, but because of you? You weren't willing to do that.

“You would be in danger, (Y/N). You both.” He tried to explain, internally hoping you'd accept his reasoning and let it go. Sam didn't want you to become one of the friends who knew about this life, you deserve more. He already lost one woman he loved in this city, he couldn't lose another.

You huffed in frustration, “Just like you will!” 

“It's different.” As he was terrified of, you insisted. Arms crossed still and eyes locked with his, determined to get something from him. Sam was smart enough to know that you would keep it going. Perhaps he could give you a short explanation, “Me and my brother, we are used to this. We hunt things like that.”

Layla tilted her head to the side. The way Sam talked remembered her of animal hunting, although she highly doubted that was the case, “Little more explanation?'”

“Monsters are real. Vampires, werewolves, spirits. The list goes on. Call us crazy. Roll the credits.” Sarcasm saltered every word of Dean's as he gestured up and down with a cocky smile. Everyone glared at him, a special furious look from his brother, “What? I thought they knew what we did and that's why she called.”

“Sam?” Your voice was fragile when you said his name, a demonstration that you would believe him through the fear of the truth, but that he had to say it.

Sam laid his hazel eyes on you. God, how he wished he didn't have to confirm anything, to break your vision of world so abruptly, “Dean is right. Supernatural things are real. I know it sounds--”

“Unbelievable? Problematic? Scary?”

“Yeah, all of them.” Sam offered you a humorless smile, then holding your hand the way he used to when you were nervous about an exam, “But I wouldn't lie to you, cupcake.”

The silence was broken by Layla opening a bottle of Whiskey, pouring them for the three people in the room besides herself. You rolled your eyes at your best friend, while Sam wore a tiny smile and Dean was astonished.

Noticing the eyes glued, the latina just shrugged “What? If you are gonna tell me that Dracula is real and you are a sort of Buffy's apprentice, then we will need some alcohol.”

“Why did you call?” Sammy asked, his brows knotted together, mouth slight open as he waited for your response. “You didn't know what I did. And he wasn't my professor at Stanford. Then why did you call, (Y/N)?”

You could make up a hundred excuses. Lie and say he was the one friend besides Layla that you had somehow a way to get to. Appeal to the excuse of 'I felt something weird about the death and you said I should call if I ever had a problem of any kind'. But for as much as you felt horrible for using a death as a pretext for calling him, that was partially the truth. You already had put yourself into a mess of monsters and a drained heart, it couldn't be scarier than being honest to Sam and to yourself.

At least, you hoped so. But your heart was rushing like when you saw Jorge's body. Jesus, when did love become so morbid?

You took a deep breath, oxygen barely achieving your lungs, and then started to talk.

“I wanted to call you the minute that you left, Sam. I almost did a million times.” You answered, looking down at the bottle of a sort of plant that he was putting in a dark green bag. “I thought about what you could be doing, what was so important that you couldn't send me a message. But you just didn't want to call, I guess.”

“I wanted to call, of course I did.” You scoffed at his statement, looking up to match his eyes, “(Y/N), I'm serious.”

“You didn't even come to Jess' funeral, Sam. Layla said that maybe you needed to leave to clear your mind, that was too much to deal with. But I was so worried, and sad and confused and I wanted to talk to you because you would understand, you always did. About anything. And I wanted to give you some sort of comfort, but--” You lifted your hands and shrugged your shoulder, a broken chuckle leaving your body. “But you weren't here.”

“You stopped leaving messages after two weeks. Calling was gone when it made a moth.” You sniffed. Sam's lips curved into a pure, cautelous grin. God, he was always so sweet. “The emails took two months.”

“You were never good with dates. I gave you a calendar in your freshman week.” Your teeth met your lower lip. He didn't answer, only nodding at your affirmation, omitting the fact that he still had the calendar between latin books and pieces of newspapers, “Yet, you remember all of it.”

Sam leaned forward, holding your hand with all the delicacy you would expect from a sculptor. It had been too long since he hugged you, and his touch made all your skin tickle with warmth. “I missed you too, (Y/N). I thought about you all those years.”

“So, Cupcake?”

"Let's focus on the case, Dean."

“Then you can go back and eat your cupcake?” He remarked with a grin. His brother just huffed, pointing the flashlight through the trees, “So, Layla…”

Sam rolled his eyes, like he usually did when Dean started being too Dean for his liking, “Dean. The case.”

Before he could make another teaseful comment, a roar invaded their audition. The hunters gave each other a quick glance before heading towards the direction of the noise.

Shaking the salt and rosemary mixture in his hands, Dean smirked, “That's it. Time to shine, cupcake.”

“I have to admit. Being patched up by a doctor is better than by Dean.”

A surprised, half relieved laughter came out your body as you finished another stitch on Sam's arm. That boy was unbelievable; openly talking and making jokes about his brother, who was also being patched up by your best friend in company of a bottle of whiskey, while he spoke about Layla's name being a rock song. You were working on a large wound on his shoulder-- which you were sure that was full of dirt from the forest.

Medicine student, but I'll take that complement.” You winked at him, gaining a soft grin from Sammy, “I was expecting more blo-- Why are you smiling? I'm touching a recent wound. It doesn't look dangerous, but I'm sure it is supposed to hurt. A lot.”

Sam's answer came out easily, the bare, vulnerable truth: “I'm happy you are here.”

You looked at him, his hair longer than before, but the soft simper remained on his face. You bit your lip to hold a giggle; her heart dared to hope. What he expected when he said things like this? A quiet contentment spread through his expression while he watched your reaction.

“You should have come home sooner.” 

His mouth formed a line, “I don't have a home, (Y/N). It's just Dean, me and the road now.”

“No, Sam.” Shaking your head lightly, you intertwined your fingers with his. His life was dangerous, you couldn't afford the luxury of waiting even more to share what you had finally admitted to yourself in the moment he walked through the door. It didn't seem like the easiest, simpler situation. But the only hard thing you couldn’t go through was to be away from Sam Winchester. He lingered on you for years, you were done letting him run away. It was time to hold his hand and walk together. “You should've come home sooner. To me.”

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[septicstories]

When Will You Realize (UNEDITED)

A/N: @you-said-yes is a bloody freaking genius and came up with this idea for the multiverse twins, and I'm in love. So, I'm gonna write this (Peter-centric, of course) and attempt to do it justice! I just hope I don't goof this masterpiece up too much.

Genre: Angst

Warnings: cursing (duh, it's me), family drama, Charles + Logan + Hank ignore Wanda and Pietro because they need Peter, very brief mentioning of a needle, sad Peter + Wanda + Pietro, Pietro having the nickname "Piet" (pronounced as the first bit of his name, not diet with a "p"), no beta readers or edits (sorry)

Word Count: 3.3k (3,380)

"Peter! The cops are here! ... again."

When Wanda had yelled that down to him, Peter only found himself sighing. What store manager is accusing him of shoplifting this time? Did that punk-ass kid behind the counter at 7/11 rat him out again?

But Peter didn't do anything about it.

Nope.

Well... actually... maybe a quick pick-pocket wouldn't hurt, right? Just see who the hell these cops are, maybe spook them when he says their names. Unless he already knows them, then that'd be weird.

Peter let go of the paddle he was using, calmly walking upstairs as time just slowed around him, nearly to a halt. He was greeted with three new faces, all three of the men. None of them looked like cops.

He went into the pocket of the man with hella sideburns, opening up his wallet, only to see a folded-up piece of paper instead of a badge.

After looking over the paper for a moment, Peter found himself grinning. This was a rental agreement for a car. These guys were from out of town.

Peter folded the paper, replacing it into the man's wallet before slipping it back into his pocket. And with new confidence, he went back to his basement and continued to play his solo game of ping-pong as he waited for the men to come down.

He heard one of the stairs creak, a sure sign that it wasn't one of his siblings. A very particular spot on one of the stairs made the most obnoxious creaking noise, and it was the only way he was able to identify anyone new.

"What do you guys want?"

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Peter just kept going from one end of the table to another, waiting for his brother to come down so the two could go even faster.

"I didn't do anything!"

Of course, that was what he was waiting for before the cops showed up. But now, he was just waiting for them to all get down here. He was just showing off at this point.

Peter dropped his paddle once again, slowly stretching across his couch. Well, slow for him. To the three men, it probably looked like it happened in the blink of an eye.

"I've been here all day."

A shit-eating grin spread across his face as the three men turned to him, one staring at him as though he were an animal at the zoo. The other two seemed exasperated.

"Just... relax, Peter. We're not cops--"

"'Course you're not cops, if you were cops, you wouldn't be driving a rental car." Peter interrupted.

"You're not cops?"

Peter didn't even hear Pietro come down the stairs.

"How'd you know we got a rental car?" the man with long hair and sunglasses asked.

"I checked your registration while you were walking through the door." Peter shrugged.

"Peter!"

Wanda must've recently come down as well, as she lightly smacked Peter's shoulder, like a scolding mother rather than an older sister.

"I also had some time to kill, so I went through your rental agreements and saw you're from out of town." Peter's shit-eating grin just spread across his face, before it dropped into a look of confusion. "Are you FBI?"

Peter shot up, grabbing the nearest wallet, which came from the guy with sunglasses. Nothing that a cop would carry. But there was a business card.

"Nope, you're not cops," he said in a near-mumble, reading the card.

"Peter!"

"Hey, what's with this Gifted Youngsters place?" Peter asked, ignoring his sister's scolding tone as he dropped the wallet, heading over to one of his many mini-fridges.

Peter grabbed two popsicles out of the fridge, slightly melted but still solid, handing one to his brother before beginning to munch on one.

"When I knew him, he wasn't so... young."

That was all he caught out of the conversation the three men had.

"Young?" Peter asked with his mouth full. "You're just old!"

"Peter, don't be rude," Pietro said, opening his popsicle and beginning to eat it at a monstrous pace.

"Both of you, stop!" Wanda said, her eyes beginning to shimmer a bright red color.

"So you're not afraid to show your powers." one of the men said.

"Powers, what powers?" Wanda squeaked out, her eyes flaring red before returning to their usual color.

"You see something strange here?" Pietro asked, leaning against Wanda with an empty popsicle stick in his hand.

"Nothing anybody would believe if you told them?" Peter asked, a massive smirk on his face.

When he saw the tired look on one of the men's faces, he did a little internal victory dance, patting himself on the back for that.

With the cockiest fucking look on his face, Peter went over to the pong machine in his room, turning it on.

"So who are you, what do you want?"

"We need your help, Peter."

"With what?" Wanda and Pietro asked in unison, glaring daggers into the three men.

"To break into a highly secure facility. And to get someone out."

"A prison break?" Wanda asked, her eyes widening.

Peter just chuckled, smirking. "That's illegal you know."

"Well, only if you get caught."

"Okay, no. Peter's not going." Wanda said, her fists clenched by her sides.

Exactly as she said that, Peter asked "What's in it for me?"

"Peter, no, this is an awful--" "You, you kleptomaniac, get to break into the Pentagon."

Peter's fingers froze on the joystick, pausing. The Pentagon? The fucking Pentagon? Wait, were these guys actually cops? Like, undercover cops who are actually good at their jobs?

"How do I know I can trust you?" Peter asked, arching an eyebrow, slowly turning from the machine.

"Because we're just like you."

Peter stiffened, eyes bouncing between each of the three men. They all look normal, albeit a bit like hobos, but still normal. They didn't have any of the physical bits to a mutation, the lucky sons of bitches.

"Show him."

An absolutely disgusting squelching noise filled the room as the man with sideburns had bone breaking through his clenched fists, into a trio of boney claws, gnarly and super gross.

Peter's breath hitched as he watched, before gulping and nodding. "It's cool but it's disgusting."

"So? Are you coming with us?"

"No, he's not," Wanda spoke up again. "Listen, I don't know who the hell you are and why you're asking for Peter to help you break into the Pentagon, nor do I want to know who you're breaking out of the Pentagon, but my baby brother won't be joining you."

Peter rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Who are you to make decisions for me? I'm fucking 17, Wanda! I'm not gonna be staying in this damn house my whole life!"

Peter stood up, going over to his closet, and grabbing a backpack.

"Look, I know you guys are gonna drive me there and there's probably a plan. Fill me in on our way there. I need to bring food so I don't pass out on you guys."

"Peter, ple--" "We'll meet you outside. Thank you, Peter." the man with the sunglasses said as the three left the basement.

Pietro and Wanda shared a glance before heading up the stairs. "Wait for a second!"

Peter shook his head, grabbing the nearest box of food and stuffing it into his bag.

I'm not a baby. I'm 17. I can't stay here for the rest of my life because of humanity. I can't do that to myself. I'd rather be slaughtered for my mutation than sit the hell still and never leave this fucking house.

Pietro and Wanda couldn't keep him here. He loved them both to death, and he'd absolutely come to visit. But he couldn't stay. Even just a taste of adventure like this would be enough to sate him for the day. Maybe a few.

Besides, it wasn't like he was leaving for good. He was gonna come back. Probably. Y'know, assuming he doesn't get caught and shot to death.

Peter gulped.

That won't happen... right?

"Nah, I'll be fine," Peter mumbled to himself, grabbing another box of snacks and opting to grab a hair tie as well. The clock on his wall was ticking slower and slower the deeper into thought he got.

They wouldn't let him get hurt, right? He'd be a-okay.

"Slow down, you crazy child."

Peter stiffened for a moment.

That creaky stair was a blessing and a curse.

Reluctantly, he looked at Wanda, giving her a glare as time sped up. Pietro was right behind her.

"You're so ambitious for a juvenile."

Peter rolled his eyes again.

With this shit.

"But then, if you're so smart, tell me, why are you still so afraid?" Peter asked sarcastically, a scowl finding its way onto his face.

Wanda and Pietro give each other another look before they come closer to Peter. Peter went over to another side of his room, grabbing another box of food, this one already opened.

"Where's the fire? What's the hurry about?" Pietro asked, letting out a nervous laugh as he joked. The tension in the room was making everybody uncomfortable.

They get a bit closer, and Peter forcefully shoved what was bound to be a squished Twinkie into his backpack.

"You better cool it off before you burn it out. You got so much to do."

Pietro and Peter's eyes met, making Peter's resolve crack. Just a little bit. Not much. But a little bit.

Wanda's hand landing on his shoulder wasn't much help.

"And only so many hours of the day."

Wanda's voice was always soft and soothing. The Sokovian lullabies she'd hum to him when he was a child would sometimes play through his head when he was stressed out, and he'd even find himself mumbling the lyrics.

But not right now. Now wasn't the time for her calming voice. No, he had shit to do.

Peter brushed Wanda's hand off of him, storming away from them before speaking, "But you know when the truth is told, that you can get what you want, or you can just get old."

His tone was sharp, like a blade cutting open old sutures.

Pietro's brow furrowed, with a frown making its way onto his face, his own tone becoming less playful.

"You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through."

The scowl on Peter's face only deepened as he turned away from his siblings. He didn't need to hear all of this. Not right now.

Wanda, with that voice that made Peter want to cry, spoke up again. "When will you realize..."

Peter stiffened, a lump growing in his throat. They couldn't do this to him. They couldn't persuade him to stay. They couldn't do that.

"Vienna waits for you." Pietro and Wanda spoke together, Pietro's tone had softened a tad.

When the twins saw Peter's face when he turned around, their hearts broke a little.

Their younger brother had tears in his eyes, his mouth twitching as he took in one shaky breath after another. His mouth opened, only to clamp shut, gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes tight.

Peter sped over to his dresser, digging through one of his drawers, in search of his goggles.

"Slow down," Wanda began, her voice making him stop for a single second. "You're doing fine."

Pietro piped up again. "You can't be everything you want to be before your time."

Peter clicked his tongue, fresh tears beginning to roll down his face. They had the motherfucking audacity to pull that shit on him.

"Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight," Peter said sarcastically, turning around and spreading his arms out as he gave both of his siblings a teary-eyed glare.

To them, it probably looked like the glare of a child. Pathetic. Weak. Fragile.

Did he care?

"Tonight," he mumbled again.

Nope, not one bit.

Wanda took a step forward as Peter turned back around, still looking for those damn goggles.

"Too bad, but it's the life you lead," she said calmly.

She was going to start losing composure soon, Peter was sure of it. She had to crack soon. He wasn't going to let his dam burst anymore until he knows he's not the only one who wants to cry.

"You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need."

Peter winced as though he just got a needle stabbed into his arm. A painful pinch that'd be sore for a bit, but he'd forget about it soon.

Wanda sent Pietro a glare, which made the other speedster back down a bit. But only a bit.

"Though you can see when you're wrong, you know you can't always see when you're right." Wanda and Pietro spoke at the same time, making Peter shiver.

It bugged him the hell out whenever they did that. Creepy as shit.

Wanda made it even creepier by repeating herself. "You're right."

She came closer as Pietro spoke. "You've got your passion."

"You've got your pride," Wanda said softly, taking Peter's shaky hands into her calm grip.

They need to stop. They needed to stop doing all that shit to him. They were trying to get him to stay. They shouldn't be doing that.

Peter yanked his hand out of Wanda's grip, his other hand grabbing his goggles before stuffing them in his pockets.

"But don't you know only fools are satisfied?" Peter said bitterly, staring between the twins.

He gulped as he watched Pietro glare at him, his arm going around Wanda as he did so.

"Dream on," Pietro said dully as Peter turned his back on the twins.

"But don't imagine they'll all come true." Wanda and Pietro did their freaky twin thing again, speaking at the same time.

Peter zipped up his backpack, just trying not to cry. He just needed to get past them, and into that car, and then it would be smooth sailing from there.

"When will you realize?" Wanda asked as Peter slung the backpack over his shoulder.

"Vienna waits for you." Pietro finished with a soft murmur.

Peter didn't even need to turn around for Pietro and Wanda to know what Peter's face looked like.

Hot tears burned down his face as he shoved past his older siblings, Pietro purposefully knocking Peter's shoulder with his own. A little thing they'd do when they knew they had a rough day ahead of them. A sign. A quick "good luck. I love you."

A sob got stuck in Peter's throat as he went up the stairs, hitting that creaky stair on the way up.

Wanda, with a defeated sigh, fell back onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. There wasn't any way to stop Peter. Once his mind was set on something, he was going to do it if it were the last thing he'd do.

She just worried that this would be the last thing he'd do.

Before Wanda could even speak, Pietro's hand rested on her back as he sat beside her.

"He'll be okay, Wanda."

Peter was about to leave, fingers grazing the doorknob before he paused.

He turned to the small stand by their front door, grabbing Wanda's locket from when she and Pietro were children. Carefully, he opened it, revealing pictures of Wanda and Pietro as children.

Peter's fingers clumsily fiddled with the locket before placing it around his neck before taking in a deep breath and wiping the tears from his face.

The front door of the Maximoff household swung open as Peter left the house, his hair falling in front of his face as he left, walking at a pace that seemed a tad bit too fast to be human.

The guy with sideburns was sitting in the driver's seat of the car while the two other men stood outside the car.

"Ready?" the man with the sunglasses asked.

Peter found much more interest in the markings on his shoes, staring down at his mixed shoelaces before giving a weak response.

"Yeah."

Slow down, you crazy child. Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while.

Peter got into the back seat of the car, slamming the door shut as the other two men piled into the car. He swears he heard Pietro and Wanda in his head.

It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two

His backpack got tucked by his feet on the floor of the car, buckling his seat belt before releasing a sigh. He wanted their voices out of his head. They needed to get out of his head, or else he may actually get fucking shot because he wasn't focused on the mission.

The Maximoff house was now quiet. The only noises came from the basement.

"When will you realize?" Pietro asked, his voice barely carrying over a whisper.

"Vienna waits for you." Wanda finished softly.

The two were leaning against each other on the couch that Peter called his bed, looking around the messy room.

A picture sat on his desk, the three of them all together and smiling. Peter was only eight when they took that picture. His two front teeth were missing from his massive grin, curly brown hair framing his face. He just looked... happy.

Peter, at that moment, felt far from that young kid he used to be. His arms crossed over his chest, doing his best to seem nonchalant. But he was stressed as hell.

In Sokovian, Peter mumbled to himself "And you know that when the truth is told, that you can get what you want, or you can just get old."

Peter could live with dying young. As morbid as it may be, he's accepted his mortality. He knew people wanted him dead because he didn't share the same species name as others.

His eyes looked out the window while the man in the sunglasses and the man with the sideburns spoke in the front seat. Hopefully not to Peter, because he wasn't paying attention.

Unfortunately, instead of seeing an empty doorstep, Pietro and Wanda were standing on the porch.

Pietro's hand was still on Wanda's back, and Peter could see the tear streaks on Wanda's face from within the car.

"You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through," the two whispered, Pietro beginning to choke up "Why don't you realize?"

"Hey, kid, you alright?"

Peter turned to look at the guy with glasses who sat with him in the back seat, nodding with pursed lips.

"I'm good, man. What's the plan?"

Wanda and Pietro still stood on the doorstep, watching Peter look away from them. Wanda bit her lip, looking down at the ground as fat tears streamed down her face.

"Vienna waits for you." she and Pietro were so choked up, their speech was barely audible. "When will you realize?"

Peter listened in on the plan, nodding, but once they stopped saying his name, he looked back out the window. His sister was in tears as Pietro wiped at his face, making Peter's eyes well up a bit too.

With all he had in him, Peter mustered up a small, sad smile on his face. Luckily enough for him, his siblings looked up right then.

Peter gave a small wave, getting teary smiles and waves from his siblings.

The car's engine roared to life, and the group began to pull away from the Maximoff house. Peter turned in his seat a tad, watching as his siblings grew smaller and smaller in the window as the car pulled away from the Maximoff house.

At the same time, the twins watched as the car pulled away from their house, Wanda's body shuddering as she kept in unshed tears.

Pietro let out a heavy sigh as Wanda's head hit his shoulder.

"He'll be okay, Wanda. He always comes out of these things okay."

"He's breaking someone out of the pentagon, Piet. I don't want him to... y'know."

"Yeah... I know."

Peter turned back around in his seat, letting out a heavy sigh of his own.

"They'll be okay." the man with glasses murmured beside Peter.

His only response was a nod and a yawn. "I'm gonna rest up real quick, okay? Save up energy, and stuff."

Because I'm absolutely fucking drained.

[malltales]

Queen of Nothing; A Story of Redemption

(This story is based on real events. The names have been changed to protect the innocent and ridiculous.)

By April of 2020 I broke up with my partner of 5 years, lost my best friend; 13 year old dog, Jasper. All within the context of the global pandemic.

Bike touring was something I've always wanted to do but scared to attempt alone. I managed to talk my old friend, Kevin and his girlfriend, Ava, into a 5 day bike tour from Pittsburgh to Washington, DC on the GAP and C&O trails.

It’s important to know that Kevin and I had been friends for almost a decade, and I had yet to meet Ava in person. Kevin and I had been roommates for several years, on and off. We also suffered a dramatic falling out that resulted in us not speaking for almost 3. I assumed since we reconnected, he had grown.

Day 1: Pittsburgh to Ohiopyle

The first day of the ride was the last day the three of us were together. Kevin and Ava were packed to the gills with panniers and rode fast at the start. I hung back, averaging 11 mph. Ava circled back several times to check in. We talked the whole way and made fast friends.

Kevin stayed far ahead until we reached our lunch stop. After which, he lost steam quickly. He'd only done one long ride to prepare and never ridden with fully loaded panniers. Which is like saying you trained for a 5k and then decided the day of the race to strap a 40 lb bag to your body.

I tried to hang back and ride alongside Kevin for a bit. I offered a draft he could pull from because I was still feeling strong. “Just go ahead.” He said. “I just need to be at my own pace."

Here's the thing, everyone hits a point in a long bike ride where they start to ache and fatigue, especially if you aren’t used to riding for a long time. I was fully expecting some super cranky moments from all of us, including myself, but I was not prepared for it to happen this early.

Ava and I stopped a few times for snacks and to shake the ache out of our hands and butts. We took a detour to spelunk our way through a crumbling, abandoned warehouse, filled with graffiti and paraphernalia of angsty teens’ hideaway. Kevin passed and said nothing. Twice, we found him lying flat on his back in a field, smoking a cigarette, complaining that something hurt and he needed a break. Every time we found him, we stopped, asked if he needed anything, asked if he wanted us to wait and every time he said no. So, we soldiered on. Although Ava and I worried about Kevin, we heeded his words and assumed he just needed to power through and be left alone. AVa and I kept each other motivated and the mood light. We sailed through burnt umber rock formations. Gentle streams coursed through them like veins.

87 miles into our longest day, we reached the town of Ohiopyle. The last glimmer of sunset was fading quickly. Ava and I arrived first. We had a daunting 3 mile, 3,000 ft climb yet to go. Kevin arrived shortly after, hopped off his bike and ran into an ice cream shop. He walked across the street and began whispering to Ava, while I glared at the map. I could tell by the body language he was not happy. Ava started to cry. I called out: "Listen, we are all tired and starving. Whatever it is you guys are debating should wait till we climb this."

Kevin scoffed and walked away. I waited a few minutes and asked Ava how I could help. She was crying and explained he was upset that we "left him behind." He said she "abandoned him.”

I was instantly furious. This rhetoric was painfully familiar. Flashbacks of past arguments flashed through my brain. I did not take deep breaths, I did not pause; I marched over to Kevin. (If you have never seen an adult angrily eat an ice cream cone, I would highly recommend it.) Standing by a river, licking his moose tracks he yelled at me. He tells me that I also abandoned him and left him out of the group that he was "working so hard at keeping together." I laughed, I couldn't help it. I figured if I laughed, Kevin would realize how utterly absurd this was. All I could think of was a hot shower, food and bed. He got angrier. I understood that nothing in this moment would get through to him, so I threw my hands in the air and said "The reality is, you got smoked by two chicks because you didn't train. I'm sorry your ego is bruised. I'm going ahead."

I walked back to Ava, apologized for making things worse and asked her if she preferred to bike with me to the house or stay with Kevin. She opted for the latter and I forged ahead.

It was 8:30pm. The way ahead was pitch black, up an incredibly steep switchback. It was a two lane, country road with no shoulder. I tried my best to stay on the bike, but after half a mile, I gave up. I started walking. My legs could barely take the climb on foot, my calves were cramping, my thighs were shaking. Every time a car whooshed by; I froze against the guard rail. I only had two small lights and was unsure if I could be seen at all. I begged the universe to send someone to offer me a ride. I pleaded with the coyotes howling in the distance not to come nearer. I shrunk at the Trump signs on the rolling, rural properties. After an hour and a half of walking, one foot in front of the other, with a small blinking light on my back. I finally made it to the Aribnb. I immediately hopped in the shower, ready to be greeted with luxurious, warm water. NOPE. Ice cold. I got clean quickly, started the food and cursed the fact that I let Ava carry the whiskey. Kevin and Ava arrived shortly after and we all went to bed without saying much at all.

Day Two: Ohiopyle to Frostburg

The next morning, I woke up energized. The house was quiet and no one was awake. I had time to slip out. A wave of relief ran through me. I began packing my bike, made coffee and realized there was only one bike: Ava’s.

All Kevin’s stuff was gone and so was he. I contemplated my choices: sneak into Ava’s bag, find my extras in her panniers and tip toe out before she woke up OR wait for her. I didn’t know Ava well, but I didn’t feel right leaving my new friend in the mountains alone.

Ava woke up and described the fighting and frustration that ended with Kevin packing his stuff and heading out on his own at 4am. I was well-acquainted with this kind of performance and lacked the fortitude to deal with it. Ava asked if we could ride together. I agreed, with a condition: we would not spend time discussing Kevin.

By the time we stopped for lunch, Kevin had sent scores of texts. Ava read them to me. I lifted the embargo for lunch because I knew she was feeling anxious. The tone of Kevin’s texts were hostile and accusatory. Ava listed things she could have done differently. I assured her she did nothing wrong. We cried. I shared my experiences from the past few years, which were mirroring hers. After leaving this kind of maltreatment in my past, I would not tolerate it from anyone else.

The 67 mile ride we completed that day was difficult and long. We were slow and sore. The gradual and consistent uphill of the pavement pummeled our strength. In the end, I’m glad Ava and I rode together, even though we started late. She helped me keep a much better pace than I would have on my own. Our pleasant conversation ended abruptly when we arrived in Frostburg. Kevin was texting; demanding to know where we were. He had been there for hours and wanted to check in. The hotel reservation was a tiny room with side by side beds. Ava told me she didn’t have the money to book another room. There was no way I was about to share a room with this dude who left his girlfriend with a literal stranger in the middle of nowhere. So, I bought them their own room. I threw the keys at Kevin on my way out and biked an extra two miles, uphill, to get Epsom salts. It was 9 pm when I finally unloaded everything in my room. I was elated when I got in the shower and felt hot water. I was so tired I could barely think, but I was so happy with my decision. $200 for peace was a small price. I reviewed the day in my head and was proud. When you’re demanding so much of your body, you must ask yourself every step of the way: what do I need right now? Most of the time the answer is simple: food, a break from the saddle, water, a quick stretch. But sometimes it’s hard to parse out which of those comes first. I congratulated myself for surviving the emotional cyclone going on around me. I was asking myself what boundaries I needed to finish this trek and make the most of it. I went to bed that night, again, with the intention of leaving in the morning on my own.

Day 3: Frostburg to Hancock

The following morning, I woke up to a text from Ava that read: “he broke up with me.”

On a bench, in the cold, we drank coffee and between sobs, she filled me in. He left early in the morning without a word. With 71 miles in front of us, I was nervous. Ava was exhausted. She could barely string a sentence together. I offered to pay for another night at the hotel for her to rest until she figured something out. She said: “I feel like I have to get to Hancock tonight to work things out. If I don’t, that will be the end of us.”

I was heartbroken, but I knew this feeling too well. When the misery you know seems better than the unknown. I saw myself reflected in Ava’s tear streaked face. I sat exactly where she was 3 years ago. I knew the terror. I wanted to tell her everything I knew from the other side, but I knew she couldn’t hear it. So, I nodded my head and said we needed to get on the road.

We left behind the mostly paved GAP trail and continued on the dirt C&O. It was gorgeous. Ava helped me let out air from my tires for the new terrain and gave me pointers for dirt riding. I was grateful for her presence, but I knew her head was spinning. It was not as grueling as the previous day, but we were both dragging. We made a lot of stops to rest. 50 miles in we realized we missed the town we had planned to stop for lunch. We were running out of fuel to pedal. We ended up at a trailer-turned biker-bar, covered in Trump flags. It was our only option. Biker dudes on the porch were laughing and pointing. Calling us “monkey masks.” Inside was a totally different story. Everyone was friendly. We ate and drank and left remarkably unscathed. We only endured a few rape jokes from drunk townies on our way out.

The last 20 miles were brutal. I was struggling to stay in the seat. It was dark and my light ran out of battery. We put our phone flashlights on and stuffed them into our bras to light the way. Deer skittered across the path a few feet in front of us and we leapt every time. Ava told me Kevin got them their own room and I sighed with relief. She asked how we would approach the following day. I told her she didn’t need to worry. They would go their way and I would go mine.

Inside my comfy, roadside motel room I was faced with yet another challenge. The three of us were supposed to end our ride in DC and train to Baltimore where I would stay with Kevin and Ava for two days. This, obviously, was not going to happen. I quickly had to figure out where I was going to stay, with barely any internet, no motivation and about an hour before I succumbed to sleep. I text Darren, a mutual friend, who lived in DC. I explained I needed a place to crash, even if it was just one night. He agreed and I fell asleep in ten minutes. I had one more hurdle to deal with: find a shop to ship my bike from DC to Chicago. Darren came to my aid again and offered to take my bike apart and ship it from his place.

Day 4: Hancock to Harper’s Ferry

Being on my own felt like pure freedom. I was on pavement for the first 10 miles. It was bliss.

I set off slowly and adopted a new mantra: hustle hard when you can, rest when you can. My legs were tired but knees weren't aching as much and my hands were going numb less.

In Williamsport I found stairs leading down to a long, concrete dam that extended far out into the Potomac. The sides were slanted toward the water. It was the perfect height to dangle sore feet in the cold water. I sat, legs outstretched at the top of the dam. As far as I could see from left to right was water. The Potamac seemed never-ending. This was an expansive feeling to digest with my newly thawed breakfast burrito. I felt sluggish and heavy after my peaceful lunch views. The day before, Ava kept me at a steady pace and I missed her company.

Then came a long stretch of trail that rode along the very edge of the water. I ambled slowly upward then back down. I felt lighter and my ride smoothed up. The trail trickled back into the woods. I clipped my way along loping curves. The Potamac peeked from behind trees just beginning their transformation toward fall colors. I had to talk myself out of stopping every mile for a picture.

Toward the end of this 6 hour day I was rewarded with longer glimpses of the Potomac through the trees. Vignettes of the river were dotted with burning red leaves and outlined in ochre shadows. The large juts of slate erupted from the middle of the rapid, splitting the river. The river deepened and I knew I was close to Harpers Ferry.

I approached a 5 story, winding staircase, directly in front of the sunset, hoisted my bike onto my shoulder and climbed. Huffing and puffing, I nearly doubled over at the top, but the view snapped me out of it. The Shenandoah and Potomac rivers were merging beneath my feet. Civil War ruins dangled on two slate islands to my left. I felt like I was standing in the middle of the world, alone with this gorgeous vista. And I arrived powered by my own two legs.

Pulling off the bridge I pedaled through the cobblestone streets. I was pleasantly surprised that the inn I was staying at was not far and not up a hill. I decided to forgo a shower, change my clothes and head straight over to a restaurant. After a glass of wine and a plate of pierogies, I watched the sun set over the town with the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers roaring beneath it. I felt so thankful; I arrived in time for dinner and a sunset.

Day 5: Harper’s Ferry to Washington, DC; The Final Leg

Alright so here’s where everything gets wrapped up with a neat, little bow, right? Almost.

It was the last day. Only 63 miles; the shortest ride yet. I wanted to savor it. This was the only part that felt like a vacation. I used the heavy fog covering the town as an excuse to walk around and explore.

Harper’s Ferry is the most charming town. Thomas Jefferson described the scene as "worth a voyage across the Atlantic" in his Notes on the State of Virginia. It’s also the mid-point of the Appalachian trail, which I stumbled onto while climbing the steps of a church. I was stunned, breathing in the moment. I thought of everyone who trekked this way before me, when our country was so young.

At about 9am, the fog was rolling out and so was I. I was on top of the world. Nothing hurt, I was cruising at a good speed. I had all the time in the world to get to DC. Darren was going to meet me on the trail at 6pm and ride with me to his place. I was hoping to be done at 4 and happily awaiting his arrival with a beer in my hand. A 10 degree drop in temperature and rain didn’t dampen my mood. I felt free as fuck.

After an hour of solid rain, the sun shone through and warmed everything up. I sloughed off my raincoat and started my Spotify. I was laughing at my luck and singing along with First Aid Kit’s “King of The World.”

And then….POP. Pffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffft.

I skidded to a stop. A giant nail was right through the middle of my tire. Deep breaths. Ok. I can do this.

I sat down on the ruin of a guesthouse by the side of the trail and started working. If you’ve ever changed a brand-new bike tire you will understand what I was up against. It’s not ideal when the rubber is new and unworkable. A white-haired man in a yellow safety vest wandered over to inspect my predicament. He introduced himself as Don. Don was my grandfather’s name. When Trail Don shared that he was also a retired veteran, I thought for sure my grandfather sent him. Don “helped” me get the tube in with a screwdriver and promptly popped it. I only had one tube left. There wasn’t a bike shop for 40 miles.

“I live about 20 minutes down the road and I got all the tools in my garage. I’ll take ya back there and get ya fixed up and back on your way.”

On the road to Don’s house, in the middle of Trump country, my thoughts were racing. When we pulled up, a welcome sight greeted us: a giant rainbow flag and a lawn littered with human rights signs. Ok, I thought, I think I’m in the right place. Relief swept over me. We changed the tire and I met his kind wife, who offered me a sandwich. We loaded up and drove back to the trail. I thanked him profusely and began my last 30 miles.

The day was replaying in my mind and I felt my heart overflowing. This was indeed the culmination of my independence. Even if I did need a little help from friends and a few strangers. I was relishing the solitude, but it was a huge comfort to know there was a friend on the other side of this journey with whom I could share my triumph.

The sun sank slowly in the orange sky over Rock Creek Park. The frogs started chirping as the stars steadily emerged. The clouds unleashed a downpour. I saw a bright headlamp and familiar face coming toward me.

I made it.

[j-ngjaehy-n]

Summary Ellie is nothing like her on screen character, neither is Pete Dunne.

Word Count 2594

everything that sounds like its made up, it probably is. If its really all rights reserved to the company's mentioned, Tyler is 21 BC I forgot how young he was until halfway through writing oops

ekayyla, tumblr.com

Ellie was nothing like her on screen persona, her character was the nicest, sweetest character Ellie had ever seen on the WWE and Ellie wasn't. Ask her friend and she'd describe her as an arsehole, Ellie just liked to think she was closed off. She didn't like people and if she didn't have to talk to them, she wouldn't - simple as that, not hard to understand really.

She hadn't come to the WWE to make friends, she hadn't started wrestling to make friends - she wrestled because she had terrible anger management and her therapist told her to. That's what she told people anyway, truth was she absolutely admired Lita growing up. All she ever wanted in life was to be as badass as her and not take anyones shit. Growing up in an countless foster homes, she was meek and quiet and never spoke unless spoken to, until she realized she didn't have to.

She talked back, she argued and if they still didn't see her point, she fought harder. She fought for everything other kids had handed to them, she fought to be respected. And who else was a highly respected but still badass woman? Lita.

She'd met her once when a particularly nice foster carer had noticed how much she liked to watch wrestling and bought meet and greet tickets. Ellie cried when the mother told her, she cried and she bawled. She was so happy.

So she met Lita, told her how she grew up in foster homes loving her and Lita smiled, hugged the tiny nine year old and signed her shirt with a stay strong, ellie scribbled on the front. She loved that shirt like she loved her foster mom, until the Alabama bush fires took her shirt and her foster mom. Ellie didn't smile for a year afterwards.

Abusive foster parents and a rough childhood left Ellie hostile to the world, she fought when she could, girls and boys behind the school, behind the diner on the corner near her house, anywhere.

It wasn't until she was fifteen that the school therapist suggest she find an outlet for all her anger, she tried soccer, football, hell, she even tried dancing. Nothing worked until the therapist told her about the new wrestling school opening up on the better side of town.

Ellie hadn't watched wrestling since she lost her foster mom and she spiraled out of control, standing on the steps of the wrestling studio had her heart hammering in her chest and hands shaking like a leaf. It wasn't until another girl near her saw how nervous she looked, took her by the hand and gently guided her into the gym.

Maria had been a few years older than her and already wrestling for a few years until her parents had relocated to Ellie's small town. Whenever her panic attacks would flare up or Ellie needed a hand with moves, Maria was there with a guiding hand and a calm voice. Whenever Maria had boy problems or girls were harrasing her, Ellie was at her back or standing by to give out hugs, something she didn't particularly like doing but it was Maria and she deserved her hugs.

So on Ellie's 16th birthday. Maria and her parents surprised her with a party and a certificate of adoption. She cried, hugged Maria and her parents, hugged the few people that came from the wrestling gym and cried again.

Eight years later, Maria and Ellie debuted on NXT and not two months later, Maria was the new NXT Womens Champion and Ellie had yet to be pinned. She'd had plenty of count-outs and disqualifications but she still hadn't been pinned until she'd aligned herself with British Strong Style.

Trent Seven, Tyler Bate and Pete Dunne were absolutely lethal in the ring and out. Seven and Bate were two of the most welcoming people she'd met in the company, her personality just clicked with theirs right from the start.

Pete Dunne was nothing like his on screen persona, yeah he's an arse, but hes never standoff-ish like his character. Ellie would rather describe him as sweet, since she'd met him he'd done nothing but try to get her to open up to him. He'd bring her coffee in the mornings and drop her home when Maria couldn't, it had taken her three weeks of being an arse for Maria to slap her around the head and tell Ellie not to be so rude.

She tried not to from then on, she thanked Pete for the coffee, invite him inside for a cup of tea after he'd drop her home and eventually it evolved into more. On free days, she'd invite him over to watch a movie and they'd cuddle on the lounge.

Pete started to ask her over for dinner, her and Maria were invited to nights out with the boys, gym sessions were mandatory and afterwards the boys would share their vegan pizza.

Ellie couldn't help herself, she started to fall for the Bruiserweight with a heart of gold. It killed her to watch him dance with girls when they went out, but she did, she turned around with a smile because all she wanted was for him to be happy. If it wasn't with her, fair enough it wasn't with her - but he was happy and that made her happy.

"C'mon love," Trent's voice echoed through Maria and Ellie's apartment, "If you don't hurry up we'll miss our booking!"

"Bowling lanes don't wait for wrestlers!" Ellie snorted when Tyler yelled out, he'd taken the joke baby of the group literally - It was a rare sight not to see him joking around.

"I'm coming! Don't get your knickers in a twist." Nora bounced down the stairs and waved her arms extravagantly when she hit the bottom, "Ta-da!"

"It took you that long to get dressed..." Trent hesitated, "...into that?"

Nora glanced down at her shirt and jeans with a frown, "I think I look fine."

"Pete likes it when you dress up." Tyler, the non stop voice of wisdom, spoke from where he was slouched on her coach.

"We're going bowling," Nora said plainly, Trent flicked any eyebrow up with out a word, "Fine, fine! I'll get changed."

She walked down five minutes later with the same shirt on, only tucked into a leather skirt, "Happy?"

Trent nodded with a smile, "Let's get out of here."

"Finally!" Trent sighed, rolling off the couch and hobbling out the door like a old man.

"You're nineteen, you bloody drama queen!" Trent snorted and followed him out the door.

It doesn't take them long to get the address Pete texted through and when they find their lane, Pete and Maria have cold beers waiting for them. Tyler downs half of his in one go and throws himself into a chair, Ellie rolls her eyes and slips into the chair next to Pete.

"Thanks guys, how was the meet and greet?" Ellie asks as she sips her drink.

"It was great," Pete's eyes flick up from Ellie's leg, "The fans were amazing as always."

"Oh, El -" Maria jumps in her seat and starts to dig through her bag and Pete gets up to start the game, "- there was this one little girl that wanted me to give you this."

She hands over a tiny bead bracelet with ELLIE ROCKS spelt out on it. Its bright yellow and doesn't match her outfit at all, but she slips it over her wrist anyway because her fan made her this. They poured their heart into it, she snaps a photo to upload twitter later so she can find the parent and send her a shirt.

"Your turn love!" Pete hollers from the point screen and gesture at the lane.

"Don't laugh at me, guys," she says as she slips her bowling shoes on, "I haven't bowled in years."

"You'll do fine, " Pete says as she grips the ball uncertainly, he see the uncertainty on her face and smiles softly, "Here, I'll give you a hand."

His large hand comes to rest on her elbow and straightens it while the other one sits on her lower back, a glance back at the group shows none of them paying attention but when she look back at Pete his face is inches from hers. Her breath catches when his eyes flicker own to her lips but then he steps away and she's left reeling.

"All you gotta do now is throw the ball down the lane." Pete tells her, his voice low, and then turns to sit with their friends.

She turns her back to them and stares a the lane, what the fucking fuck? She shakes her head and swings her arm, closes her eyes and just hopes for the best. The ball slams into the wood with a loud crack and not a second later sinks into the gutter, her second go is not much better and she turns back to the group with a shy smile.

"Told you I was no good -" she stops and eyes her friends, they're obviously trying to hide their laughter and Pete's face is bright red, "...what are you laughing at?"

"Nothing, hun." Maria stands up to take her go and whisper into Ellie's ear as she passes, "Pete was a bit too interested  in watching you bowl."

She dumbfounded for a moment before she realizes that Pete was sitting directly behind her, he had a perfect eyeful of her being over. She stifles a giggle at his slowly fading red cheeks and pats his hand, "Get a good look, Dunne?"

He frowns as Seven and Bate laugh loudly, ignoring her in favor of his beer. Ellie watches as Maria bowls a strike and lays her head on Pete's shoulder, "Sorry for teasing."

Pete shifts and drops his shoulder for her to lean on more comfortably, "All good, love."

"Were you really staring at my are?" Ellie asks as she traces pattern on Pete's bare arm that's resting softly on her  thigh.

"...yeah."

"Pete!" She laughs and nudges his arm off of her, but he catches her hand and bring it up to his lips.

He brushes a soft kiss against her knuckles and stares evenly into her eyes, "Its a very nice arse, love."

"Pete!" Trent hollers, "You're up, mate."

Pete drops her hand into her lap and moves to take his turn, Ellie watches him walk away until Maria plops into the open seat. "What was all that?"

"C'mon," Ellie pulls maria our of her seat and towards the bar, "I need another drink."  

"Wait, what happened?" Maria stumbles behind her and watches as Ellie's head slumps into her hands at the bar.

"I have it so, so bad for Pete." Ellie groans from behind her hands.

"Well, duh."

Ellie glances up at her from between her fingers and snorts, "I shouldn't even surprised that you already know."

"Is it that obvious?" She sighs as they collect their drinks.

"Yeah, I mean-" she hesitates, "I don't know if Pete knows but he's usually pretty clued on when it come to these things. He knew Peyton and I liked each other before we did."

"El! Its your turn!"

Ellie sighs and orders another round for the boys, the waitress is quicker with these ones and they carry them back to the boys. Pete's eyes follow Ellie as she sets the drinks down and grabs her ball, she swallows nervously and glances back at him, winks slowly and bends to take her shot.

She bowls a strike and turns back to the group smugly, "Someones gonna catch up."

Tyler rolls his eyes, "She's gonna be a sore winner, isn't she?"

"Always is, kid." Trent barks a laugh when Tyler's face falls.

They keep bowling until Tyler wins, smugly throwing his arms up and parading around with a toy wrestling belt he'd smuggled in for the winner. Ellie laughs and gives him a high five because she may be a sore winner, she's not a sore loser.

They wander over to the arcade and avoid the sea of children surrounding the kids toys. Ellie laughs as her and Maria fail spectacularly at Dance, Dance, Revolution, pouts childishly when Trent's demolishes her at buck hunting-

("Its not fair, you cheated!"

"...its buck hunting, El. How am I possibly able to cheat at it?"

"I don't know but you did, anyway.")

And laughs like a hyena when she beats Tyler's record at PacMan, who vows to never leave the machine until he beats her record,

(Trent and Maria pull him away five minutes later.)

Ellie wanders around the arcade until she finds Pete lazily throwing basketballs in the back of the arcade, she's stopped for a moment when she sees his arms flex in his singlet. She leans up against the side and tries to keep her eyes from ogling his arms, it doesn't work very well but Pete hasn't complained yet.

"I bet you I can sink all of these balls." Pete wages as he stuff another token into the machine and watches the balls drop.

"What's the wager?" Ellie's asks and settles on the seat of a motorbike game next to him.

"A kiss." He says, she eyes his face and sees not one trace of humour.

"Here?" She glances around, "Pete, there's kids everywhere."

"We'll find somewhere."

He's dead serious and she figures it can't hurt, he won't sink them all. "Fine."

Oh, how wrong she was. As soon as the words left her mouth, Pete turned and sunk the first ball, followed by the second, then the third and another after that. She can't watch, she closes her eyes and listens to the swish after swish until the buzzer sounds and she's jerked out of her seat. She briefly notices the 30/30 on the machine before Pete pull her from the arcade, hurries out of the building and has her pressed against the side of the building in minutes.

His lips press against her roughly, leaving a scorching trail of heat when they brush. Their teeth knock, their lips bite and hands grab everything they can, hers are grabbing his shirt, his are sliding down to her thighs before she's lifted and pressed against the wall harder. Rough hands press under her shirt and along her ribcage, she arches into his touch and -

"You have to return those shoes! They're property of the - oh."

- flinches away as the shoe loan worker swings around the corner. Pete drops her quickly and she blushes as she fixes her shirt. The shoes are pulled off and Pete and Nora are left standing in the shadows with socks on.

"Go home, kids."

They mumble apologies and flee to Pete's car where Nora pulls their shoes out of her bulging bag, she laughs airily and leans against the hood of Pete's car. "Well, that was fun."

Pete smirks and arches an eyebrow, "Fun? I just had a heart attack!"

"Don't be a wimp." She laughs and runs her hand over his shoulder. He catches her around the waist and draws her closer to him, pressing her between him and the car.

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" He asks as he brushes his lips against hers.

"Hell, yes."

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