#the fucking sitting on the counter clip i am actually dead

[skitskatdacat63]

I'm already getting the feeling that he's somehow gonna be even sillier this year 🤔

#I AM SO HOPELESSLY ENDEARED TO HIM #LOOK AT THIS SILLY GUY #the behind the scenes of the microwave tiktok im gonna cry #jimmy feels like his handler in this vid 😭 #'theres Fernando doing his um tiktok' hahahaha #but omg its only january and he already feels deranged #the fucking sitting on the counter clip i am actually dead #fernando alonso #formula 1 #f1 #we do a little bit of f1

[hopefullystillatheatrestudent]

this might be a weird thought but the way jensen performs masculinity (and i KNOW it’s a performance cause like, have you SEEN the mockumentary?) is just.... so inherently queer to me lmao

ok. okokokokokok. you asked for this. i have a LOT of thoughts on this. it’s gonna be under a cut because i’m gonna be annoying and psychoanalyse a celebrity i’ve never met(and hope i never do) but trust and believe when i tell you i know what i’m talking about so

you want my opinion? here goes. there is absolutely no way jensen ackles is straight. i hear you, ‘how do you know that he’s bi? that’s invasive and creepy’ but may i counter that point by saying how do you know he’s straight???? why is the default for everyone heterosexual? that’s a toxic mentality to have; ‘oh you don’t know for sure so just treat him like he’s 100% straight just in case’ like....what? heteronormativity drives me wild i’m sorry

and also, um, just to, um, prove my point that this man is decidedly not straight™(i really don’t want to do this but like it has to be said) we KNOW he’s not straight because his d*ck has spoken for itself around misha, like, four times. I HATE SAYING IT!!!!!!! but, um, straight men don’t get aroused by men. ...do i really need to explain myself further???? that’s what i thought(and don’t give me the ‘it could have been for unrelated reasons’ or ‘that wasn’t a boner!’ crap because um good lord yes it was and misha caused every single one so no it wasn’t a coincidence i’m gonna move on before i collapse into myself like a dying star)

anyway, on to the topic at hand which is jensen and his performative masculinity. and it’s a juicy one.

after the unconscious amount of hours i’ve put into watching and subconsciously judging jackles, i have come to the conclusion that like, 90% of how he presents himself and talks and even moves is an act. it’s a facade. it’s a shield. he is not that person. it actually seems exhausting, because he tries to compose himself in this macho, manly, confident and effortlessly cool way, but he’s not that person he desperately wishes he was and wants to be perceived as. he’s on guard every second, even the slightest tilt of his head is like, pre-meditated in some way? if i’m going FULL body language analyst mode, i’ve noticed he has a certain posture he always shifts himself into, and it’s very ‘pursed lips, stoic faced, gruff voiced, square-shoulder, broad and manly’ but, not to be rude jensen, it kind of reads as a little kid imitating the adults he thinks are cool? oof i am going IN huh(it’s out of love though i promise)

he is trying to be this person at every second:

because that’s who he wishes he was, because that’s how he gets validation from the people around him that he looks up to; straight white guys. but to me, who he presents himself to be at conventions is just as much of a performance as this whole eye of the tiger bit is.

oh i should mention i know his body language isn’t naturally like that because how he naturally carries himself is actually pretty flamboyant? like he seriously must be toning himself down HARD

examples:

there’s no tension in his body here as opposed to the eye of the tiger gif. i’d describe it as...generally loose and free? he’s at ease when he moves like that and you can see it.

oh and dude!!! DUDE!!!! how could i not mention the fucking SPECTACLE that is his voice??? jensen. i watched season one. i know where your voice naturally sits. THAT IS NOT WHAT YOU SOUND LIKE. and there have been so many accounts of fans visiting jensen in his trailer and being surprised that his real voice is two octaves higher. again, his performance of masculinity is all encompassing. he can’t even talk normally because, in his mind, that’s a chink in his armour.

and, like you said, anon, this whole smokes-and-mirrors gong show of ‘i am the cool texan man’ is inherently queer. who are you trying to impress??? guys??? that’s pretty gay dude.(btw: gay[honorary])

i feel like i’ve already read this man for filth but i have to keep going bc i have so much to say

ok next thing i’m gonna talk about is how jensen says one thing but everything else about him tells us the exact opposite. another HUGE element of performative masculinity, ONE THAT DEAN WINCHESTER IS A MASTER OF. have i mentioned how dean and jensen are like mirrors of each other when it comes to their sexuality and queer identity??? because it is fascinating how everything i say about jensen also directly applies to dean.

allow me to introduce the grumpy face™. as in, the face he glues on when he’s enjoying doing something but doesn’t want to let anyone know it. and it’s ALWAYS when he’s doing something that could be seen as unmanly in any way. (and when i say manly i mean the ‘ideal’ version of manhood that doesn’t really exist but that jensen seems to be striving for[and dean too])

prime example is this video he did with daneel. the grumpy face™ doesn’t budge the whole time as he’s like,,,,playing an instrument and acting like he doesn’t want to bc i guess that’s too girly??? but i also find this video fascinating because the joke IN it is kind of that they’re both poking fun at him for being so insecure about playing a freaking flute. because, i mean, he gets into it, but he wants you to think he is not.

also this picture.

what is this. i hate them. jensen is smushing himself into misha’s forehead but noooo his face is telling us ‘i hate this’ because CLEARLY he does. also misha’s so happy ew gross

he does that face in photo ops with misha ALL THE TIME but how many times has he also literally asked the con goers if he can also have those photos on his phone too? because of course he actually loves touching misha and is actually a sentimental fool but he tries so hard to hide it and fails so spectacularly.

oh and this. and of COURSE this. actually let’s talk about the hitch kiss for a hot minute because it’s a perfect example of exactly what i’m talking about

(he is so transparent guys. he tries so hard but he’s so obvious.)

1. misha was never supposed to be onstage with him. so it’s a boldface LIE and OBVIOUS PLOY TO GET MISHA TO KISS HIM when he says ‘they’d like us to make out now’. but of course the way he says it is ‘oh my god can you believe what these crazy panel people are making us do haha but i mean what they say goes amirite’. same energy as ‘oh my god did you just dare us to kiss rn???’ ‘....no i didn’t’ ‘oh my god i can’t believe you’d ask that haha but i can’t say no to a dare lol’ it’s the SAME THING

2. the fact that he was in the worst mood before misha came onstage and FAKE KISSING HIM made him feel...SO?? much better? like not just a little better a lot better like, again, that says a lot, because if they weren’t dating he would not be in a better mood if misha kissed his cheek unprompted. bc that cheek kiss wasn’t a joke it was a genuine sign of affection and AHHHH

3. after the kiss happens. you know, the one that jensen actively leans into and is smiling like an idiot the whole time through and is quite clearly having the time of his life during....he says ‘well, that was uncomfortable’. .......my guy. um. i don’t know how to tell you that i do in fact have eyes and you are NOT pulling the fast one you think you are

like i’m so sorry jensen but i have you pegged. it’s literally no use.

god there’s so many instances of him doing this with misha specifically. the whole ‘ew gross lol’ but then everything about him tells us the exact opposite. like this(i hate this. how dare he say ‘he has though, hasn’t he?’ LIKE THAT?????)

so yeah my point with that is he really wants us to think he is one thing when he is the antithesis of what he’s trying to be. he really likes those things that he talks down about, and everything he’s loudly projecting is all to hide how he really feels. he went to a gay bar with daneel, for crying out loud. he wants to play a role in drag. he’s queer and he likes it. pov: you’re jensen ackles train of thought: ‘ok so i really like this thing that people might make fun of me for or call me gay for liking so if i just say ‘lol as if’ and make a grossed-out face they will be FOOLED. i am a genius. hey misha wanna blow on my ear lol i meAN GROSS EW’

i have two more things i want to talk about when it comes to this topic so PLEASE bear with me anon this is why you took so long to answer clearly lmao

ok so we’re now going to go over my favorite hot take of all time. which is ‘how do we know dean’s performing masculinity? because sam isn’t.’ only replace dean with jensen and sam with jared and oh my god do we ever have a case

jared is as STRAIGHT as they come. he is secure in that knowledge. and that’s why he is perfectly comfortable treating misha like this:

and not try to scream ‘i am not enjoying doing this!!!!!!’ at us. because he doesn’t care what we think of his sexuality like jensen does(because he has nothing to hide whereas jensen DOES)

something i found the other day that no one has brought up but i SCREAMED upon finding it is this one clip THAT I CAN’T FIND OH GOD but i promise i’m not making it up. i can’t believe i can’t find it guys it is gold. i need need NEED to talk about it. and if anyone knows what i’m referencing and can apply links in any way i will love you forever but here’s what happens off the top of my head:

ok so i’m a bit too braindead to explain it perfectly but um basically it’s a j2 panel and someone brings up magic mike and i think jared says ‘yeah i didn’t watch it’ and then jensen says ‘all the way through’. stupid joke. whatever. the joke is that jared is gay for watching magic mike.

and then i literally kid you not. jared gets this like ‘jesus christ ok dude? lol’ look on his face and then goes ‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ and jensen gets a guilty look on his face and walks away. and jared did not say it as a joke. he was being dead pan and earnest. and jensen knew it too, he knew he was projecting. i wish i could show you guys the clip i promise if i ever find it i’ll link it but IS THAT NOT SO DAMNING FOR JENSEN????? like come ON. also proves my point that when you compare how they feel about watching magic mike. jared doesn’t care bc watching it just doesn’t interest him, but he also thinks that just watching it in itself doesn’t make you gay. jensen however.......has a different mindset, clearly.

‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ is actually a great title for my next and FINAL section(we’re almost there folks) which is how jensen projects his insecurites about his own sexuality and relationship with misha onto misha.

i hope by now we’ve all seen this video of jensen impersonating cas. it is a blatant microaggression on his part. and like obviously homophobic. it’s like in his mind if he makes fun of them for being gay it makes them both less gay somehow??? it’s self-deprecation in a way??? let’s just tell it like it is: that impression was just jensen’s overt internalized homophobia rearing it’s ugly head. he does it a LOT too when it comes to misha.

i mean:

and that whole mess where he’s making fun of misha for being a bottom in their panel in 2016? ‘so you’re saying, like with football terms, there’s a handler and there’s a receiver heheheehe’ jensen you’re not exempt from being gay just because you know football terms lmao

oh and his OTHER impression of misha where he mocks him for...bicycling...because it’s not a manly enough sport??? jensen NO ONE else has ever thought this hard in their lives about what constitutes as masculine enough to be a sport before. that’s all you bud. we don’t find those jokes nearly as funny as you do. you are reaching, sir

the good news is that misha thinks it’s hilarious and knows it’s projecting on jensen’s part and will tease him endlessly for it. many stories come to mind, like that one photo op story where they’re literally dressed in rainbow banners and pride stickers but when misha goes to hold his hand jensen said something like ‘no way’ and then misha stepped back, put his hands on his hips and went ‘that’s the part that’s too gay for you???’ and jensen LOST it

or when that whole underwear thing happened(messy messY MESSY BTW) and then a fan asked a question about what dean and cas would do in rome and misha just said ‘when in rome’ and jensen makes a face like ‘are you serious’ and then misha says ‘you can’t look at me like that anymore, because of what you did!!!!!!’

OH and that whole story about when misha suggested they put jensen in the closet for that cat video....yeah um

and then when jensen was asked to do bisexual finger guns for a photo op and the con goer said ‘he looks bisexual here’ and misha literally said ‘oh he definitely looks bisexual here. i would say he’s actually closer to the gay side of the spectrum’ so..um...make with that as you will

OH MY GOD i’m finally done. wow. WOW. that was a lot. i hope i’ve blown your minds. ty anon i really wanted to talk about this and i hope you’re happy with the outcome!!!!!!

#cockles ask #sexuality spec #jensen is bi #anti rps for ts #cockles #liz answers #ok i have to admit it is crazy i have retained all this info #i hope someone appreciates it #my analysis #mine

[sadlysober]

like to watch you suffer

Dream Team roomates x gn!reader Summary: Youre playing a scary game and your roommates come in to laugh at you support you. Warnings: swearing, shitty description of bloody/creepy things. lmk when you find any! A/N: just watched Tommy’s fnaf stream and i died. If you have any tips, requests or ideas, feel free to send them in :)

Starting up Twitch with hesitation as you check your subscriber count one last time to be sure. You reached your subgoal on your last stream and promised the chat to play a spooky game. Playing mostly family friendly games and usually with a group of friends, you weren’t exactly excited to be playing 2017′s Resident Evil 7. Clips from Jack and Felix only made you dread this moment even more. Appearantly your chat loves seeing you scared shitless.

You start your stream as you normally would: greating the chat, answering some dono’s. “I actually hate you guys for making me do this. But we’re gonna try it anyways. I have a slight idea what’s coming and am mentally not prepared, so let’s see how long I will last before crapping my pants.” You force a smile at your camera and start the game.

The first hour was doable, a couple of jumpscares and some bloody stuff. A few of the jumpscares made you squeal, while the disgusting cutscenes made you want to throw up. Losing your focus on the game as you read some of the dono’s. A lot of them were about the game and people wishing you a good stream. A couple of questions about the Dream Team popped up. “What is George up to? I think he might be streaming as well I’m not -” The loud noise in your headphones, accompanied by a bloody faces canabal with a chainsaw made you shriek, followed by a ton of swear words and you taking of your headphones, rolling your chair away from your desk.

As you sit a couple of feet away from your desk you hear a door closing and footsteps in the hallway. You open your door and call out. “Gogy?” Your chat can’t hear the boy answering you. “You busy? No? Want to join my suffering? Yeah ofcourse you do, bring a chair!” The dark haired boy walks into your room rolling his chair in, a tad too excited. Your chat went insane, seeing him come through the door.

“You already died? Damn, N/N.” He teased, sitting down next to you. His legs propped up on his chair, face popping in and out of the frame.

“Would you like to try, Gogy?” You mimicked his accent, causing George to lean back into his chair. “Alright, goodluck not dying.” He said in the saltiest voice he could. You put your headphones back on, plugging in a second pair for George and handing him the headphones. You continue playing the game, almost getting used to the disgustingness of the house.

“N/N, I have to agree with chat, seeing you being a scaredy cat is hilarious.” In the meantime you’re turning into Y/N “I am going to shit myself” Y/L/N. George just laughs at you while hanging out with the chat. Yet he too flinches at the jumpscares. “Guys, the reason you can’t see George right now is because he is a big pussy.” You laugh, recieving a soft punch to your arm in return.

Another half hour of you and George sitting on the edges of your chairs until Nick decides to have some fun. After hearing you yell a couple of times he’d tune into your stream. He waited for the right moment; you had just finished a cut scene and was wandering though the dark house that felt like a maze. The squeaky sound of the door opening made you lean back in your chair a bit more, as if something or someone would jump out of the room behind it.

The door behind you flew open with a loud bang, causing you and George to yielp. Followed by another jumpscare in the game. “Fuck you Sapnap, you little shit cunt fuck you-” You utter under your breath as you try your best not to die in game.

“Sapnap!” George whined. “What? I heard there was a party.” The boy stood in your doorframe, a cheeky grin covering his face. “Can I join?” He somewhat asked, already pulling out a chair to sit down besides you.

“Fine, but no more messing around or I’ll end the fucking stream guys.” Your chat excitedly greated him. Spamming you there will be a savepoint in a bit. “Alright guys I’m just gonna go for one more savepoint, if i don’t die from adrenaline overdose by then.”

The boys on your sides bickered while you were trying to find the way out. “Go left.” Nick hinted. “Don’t listen to him, N/N.” George told you. They were like some twisted kind of devil/angel pair on your shoulders. “Have you played this before Gogy?” Nick spat, looking over to the boy on the other side of you. “No, but they came from-” He tried to defend himself, before getting cut off. “That’s what I thought, leave it to the pro then.” 

Trusting Nick’s gut you followed his instruction and went left. The sound of your footsteps are accompanied by heavy breathing, you look around with the little light you have. When you don’t immediatly die and thank Nick for the advice. A loud noice makes you turn around as you watch some creepy dolls fall down. “The sounds are honestly the creepiest thing about this game.” You say, continuing to walk around the room, looking for clues. Nick watches you, unbothered by the scary sounds as he doesn’t have any headphones on. “Chat why do you keep spamming ‘DEATH’? I’m not dying, I am clearly a pro.” You say proudly, not being as scared and jumpy as you had been. Yet the grin appearing on Nick’s face is telling you you should be. Moments later it became clear why. A loud screech, followed by one of the residents running towards you holding an axe and piercing the weapon through your chest.

The boy next to you dies of laughter, panting as he tries to catch his breath. “Your face- oh my god you face.” You shake your head at the boy. “Why did I even trust you in the first place. I thought you knew where the exit was.” You say, a tiny bit dissapointed in yourself for falling for it, but also laughing as George almost falls out of his chair from laughter. “Oh, but I do know where the exit is.” Nick teases. You look the boy dead in the eye and start debating whether or not to continue the game.

“100 subs and they’ll continue.” George tells your chat. “Guys, no-” It only took a couple of seconds until the counter was halfway there.

dreamwastaken has gifted 50 subs: go until the next savepoint

"Let’s go, N/N, you heard the big man.” You look straight into your camera and sigh. Alt-tabbing to swearword at Clay on Discord before going back to the game. “I hate every single one of those 50 subs and Dream. One more savepoint and that’s it!” 

George nudges your arm, asking if Clay can join your little scary party. “Do I really need more critisism? What do we think chat? Spam 1 if you want Dream here, 2 if you don’t.” The chats start pouring in. “No, you’re supposed to spam 2 guys! Why aren’t you on my side. Argh, fine.” You shut your camera off and wait for Clay to come in. “No face reveal today guys.” George comments on your chat going crazy.

“You can sit on my lap Dream.” Nick said jokingly, tapping his lap. “I’d rather sit on George’s.” “No way.” The boys bicker back and forth. 

“Dream, get out of the frame I’m turning my camera back on.” The tall guy settles on your bed, being able to see your monitor and the two guys next to you.

“Why do you keep dying, N/N?” He teases as you respawn in game.

“Think you can do better?” You ask, taking a right this time.

“I know I can.” You hear him mutter from the bed behind you.

You press pause, taking your hand of the controller. “Alright guys, you're all talk, why don’t you give it a try huh.”

“Cause we like watching you suffer.” Clay answers. You look over to your roommates, each and every one of them grinning at you.

With a loud sigh you continue playing the game, causing a lot of giggles and teasing as you almost have a heart attack. Nick and Clay keep their commentary coming as George mainly focusses on your chat. You get to the savepoint and finally end the stream.

Turning around in your chair so you face Clay. “I really hate you guys, that was the scariest shit I’ve ever played.”

George rests his arm on your shoulder. “No you don’t.”

“You love us.” Nick adds.

#i never actually played the game nor finished watching jack's playthrough #i did almost throw up #so if things dont add up game-wise #excuse me being too pussy to do proper research #dream smp #mcyt #georgenotfound #dreamwastaken #sapnap #dream #george #x reader #dream smp x reader #mcytx reader

[honoredbastard]

ෆ self indulgent and entilted

characters — bonten!rindou haitani  + *yakuro nanami (oc) .

content and warnings   — mentions of drugs ( yo sanzu ), clubbing, stalker mention, mention(s) of drugging, yelling, angst(?), swearing, and so on.

note  — sorry for the dark content hhhhh, it came with the idea of ackerman being a yakuza that hated bonten and wanted yakuro gone. it may actually be apart of the fic i’m outlining..... these men hold my heart and WILL NOT LET GO OF IT. also they just like dive into my brain 24/7. help i had a fit over what looked best for three hours- at this point i’mma probably make a lil sum’ for sanzu. i love this man and i can’t stop having him appear in my stories that involve bonten. like this guy is 24/7 in the back of my mind.

                                         *Yakuro Nanami.                                            he/they/bun! 

                  Now playing ayanami  — by satin

rindou woke up first to yakuro wearing his bunny ears and a bunny pajama set that he seemed to just slip on before marching into bed. it was cute, but there was still smudges of makeup on his face and the dark circles of terrible inconsistent sleep. rindou sighed, brushing away blonde parts of hair that yakuro was chewing on. 

“yakuro.” rindou lightly pushed yakuro’s shoulder, trying to wake the boy in his semi bunny work attire. “rindou? rindou....” yakuro groaned, his head searched for rindou’s lap or hand that he could lean into. just exist near, to feel his skin and be aware of his warmth, that he was alive and not dead. that he stayed the whole night. “morning doll.” rindou smiled quietly, brushing his fingers over the boy’s hair. 

there was a knock on the door, “come in” as if that was a full offer to entangle himself with the couple he busted through the door and made a running start to jump onto the couple. “HI!” “i don’t do the touching, i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny.”

yakuro stated as if he was at work. it was grilled into his brain and always had to repeat it infront of new clients. working at a bunny suit club was not it, almost rolling over onto sanzu. “bad work day?” “bad work day.” rindou confirmed sanzu’s suspicions with three simple  words. “yaku..” “no.” “yakuuu.” sanzu scooted in between the two, poking yakuro’s cheeks aggressively. he seemed sober, thank god. 

rindou shrugged the mans presence off and trudged to the bathroom to wash and whatnot. “you have another shift, ran told me to wake you up. “that’s not my problem. tell my boss to go fuck himself with a dildo filled with nails.” sanzu’s eyes widened, that was aggressive. although at the same time sorta funny?

“he said he’d cut off your shift times and cut back on how much money you make plus tips.” sanzu repeated what ran had informed him of, with a quite frustrated appearance.  “THAT FUCKER WILL NOT!” raising up from his laying position, yakuro ran into the hallway stumbling here and there from improper pace. 

“i’d love to see him try i swear if he even tries reducing my pay i’ll quit the whole fucking job how about that? i never liked this bullshit bunny shit anyways, it’s annoying when the customers try to touch and then you get stalkers.” yaku was mumbling to hell and back from his bosses call, waving to ran who nodded. making himself a bento before heading off on a small mission.

yaku threw open the washroom door and started searching for his bunny suit attire. the club’s theme was rainbow today so he washed a deep red suit with a black add-on tail and clip on black ears (which were foldable too. yakuro always folds one ear.) when yakuro made it back to his room, sanzu was gone and rindou was crouching near the bottom drawer.

“whatcha lookin for?” yakuro asked curiously, sitting beside the man who made a mess beside him “looking for a red suit now, i’m trying to match with you subtly.” cute- that was the only thinking yaku could think of this man who is a part of a criminal organization/gang. who woulda thought?

“i think you might be better with either a red with black tie or a deeper red of a suit.” yakuro suggested, getting up from his sitting position, joints cracking. “or black would go well, after all i’m only wearing red heel, a red body suit, and red makeup. the rest is black!” yakuro called out to rindou who was still crouched as he exited the room. taking into account his suggestions, he went with a more black with red accents attire.

           ާlocation, bunny palace! ෆ             late night, 11pm.

“here in bunny palace we have many bunnies to suit your taste! male, female, and even those who do not define themselves! run and created by the ackermans.” bunny palace is under the hands of those with the ackerman name. mikasa, the current owner, is softer on us than many. although the music blaring is not something you can get used to.

“hello! i’m moonie! it’s so good to meet you, are you new here?” yakuro was tired, it was about 4 more hours until he shift ended and he was already hungry again. salad’s really don’t fill you up especially when you wolf them down. his feet ached and cried out each time he took another step, he wanted to lay down and use rindou as his personal body pillow.... rindou! ‘i hope he’s okay.’ he thought, placing himself beside the very important client his boss claimed. “oh i am! it’s nice too meet you moonie.”

“it’s so good to meet you too! we have a few rules here that our bunnies tell each new client: i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny. please keep touching to a minimal. do not force your bunny drinks or food. respect your bunny. is that doable?” yakuro asked with big puppy eyes, a big smile, and high pitched voice. “of course!” the customer happily said, hand already on his thigh.

i am SO uncomfortable was all that yaku could think about, his eyes flicking between the customer and each place his gross hands laid upon. squeezing every-so often like it was a pleasuring act for yaku. before he removed the man’s hand, he restrained himself. drawing a large breath before responding to the customer. “i’m so sorry sir! shall i get you something to drink?” yaku pouted, “if you’d like, moonie!” i’m saved.

yakuro smiled and stood up, “why of course! i’ll be right back!” like a breath of relief, he rushed to the staff room. he waved to some girls, “not on stage today moonie?” one asked, a baby stripper new to the bunny palace club. “yeah! boss was all: ‘act cutesy, be close, allow touching this once. there are really important customers here today.’ like thanks for threatening my paycheck and then saying that!”

“oh my, that’s rough babe. ackerman is always like that, it’s like she has a stick up her ass.” one of the older strippers that had been with yakuro since he started chimed in, “you’re right!” yaku chuckled, leaning closer into his vanity mirror to adjust his lipstick and have a chance to message rindou. 

40 missed messages. “i’m so fucked.” “why’s that babe?” “i may have forgot to message rindou telling him ackerman added hours onto my shift.” the room grew tense, “that’s awful? read his messages.” sei suggested, “might cool him off if he’s angry.

“alright!” yaku sighed with a smile, opening the messages. to his surprise, rindou wasn’t angry but instead worried that a client had gotten too touchy and triggered yakuro. after all, ran did inform rindou about the bits and pieces that sanzu did not tell yaku. “whew, i’m good! i’m safe. he’s just worried....” sei and bab took a loud sigh and began laughing. “BUT I’M FUCKED.” “really? that’s great! now go out! your client must be waiting.” 

yup the girls took it that way. “i will! don’t worry don’t worry. i just hope sanzu doesn’t buy the whole club.” “he won’t now go!” sei pushed out yaku who glanced over at the client who finished the previous bottle. his nose was red and was slightly swaying back and forth.

walking up to the bar, yakuro ran into polaris. “polar!” “moonie.” “can you get something for my client? he seems to be a lightweight.” “sure, i’m sure he wouldn’t mind beer.” polar sat down the cup he was wiping back and forth to keep busy.

“the bar isn’t very busy huh?” “oh no, it’s just we got our best girls today dancing and the waitresses and working ten times harder. it works out for both of them and neither of them have to fight each other about unfair pay. tomorrow you’ll be our best so good luck.” polar smiled earnestly to add to the words of encouragement, sliding over the foaming beer over the black marbled counter. 

“thanks! i’ll need it.” turning with the drink in hand, yaku noticed the man’s disgruntled face. he looked as if the whole world was going to blow up and he was watching the countdown. ‘act cutesy, act cutesy, act cutesy.’ it was a constant mantra in his head before he sat down and opened his mouth.

“what could be wrong sir?” yaku felt like rolling his eyes into oblivion, he could care less. “oh it’s just something wrong with the gang.” “oh my, a yakuza?” boring, yaku fake gasped handing over the bear to the angered man. “yeah!” he said pridefully with a chuckle, gulping the drink down and slamming it down. “something about bonten this and that and one of our men died.”

now that’s interesting. yaku felt like walking out to just go see sanzu, it felt like everything was reminding yakuro of him. hell even the purple lights were. but alas he was stuck eyeing the entrance while the man babbled on and on about this whole yakuza shin-dig he was in. he decided to slip off his shoes because the waitresses’ assured the man that they would handle getting drinks.

it felt like hours, drink after drink the world became more hazy. yakuro grew a high tolerance because of his job but he seemed to be losing himself while the client seemed more than sober. “you.. slipped somethin, huh?” the client beside him flinched, clenching onto his bag. “w-what? are you sure you don’t have a low tolerance m-mr. moonie?” the man stammered, through gritted teeth yaku managed to huff out a ‘whatever’.

“miss. ackerman set you up? thought so, the bitch never liked me because i have a bonten member for a partner. guess i’m finally leaving this hellhole. send her my best regards, yeah?” he asked with a agitated tone. his words were laced with threats, raising slowly. “mr. moonie?” “i’m leaving, i want to leave. i have to go see rindou.” he dug the acrylic nails that were done just recently into his thigh. fuck the shoes. 

whatever was in the drink didn’t seem strong but it had yakuro in and out of conscience. the man who was once his client seemed nowhere to be found, leaving a stumbling yaku to himself. sei noticed this and dropped her waiters plate, running over to the bunny who was just about to fall. “MOONIE!” 

          ާlocation, the bonten loft.             early morning, 3am.

blue eyes fluttered open, fighting the urge to close once more. “they’re awake! rindou, they’re all good!” a familiar voice echoed throughout yakuro’s head. his body felt numb, in an attempt to speak he noticed his voice was gone. every one of his senses felt like they were being drowned under water. his eyesight was the only thing that was significantly normal.

though his contacts seemed to be taken off, leaving the blue and purple hues of yaku’s true eye colour roaming free. rindou’s footsteps were heavy and had a quick pace, the vibrations went through the bed. “yaku?” his usual docile purple eyes were filled with worry and anger mixed together, forever burning until yakuro got better.

all the man managed to do was a weak smile, his eyes blinked slowly while he stared at rindou. the two conversed, rindou’s agitation growing as his jaw clenched harder with every muffled word sanzu spoke. “i am very upset sanzu, yakuro was drugged. AGAIN!” “we can’t do anything but sit it out! we don’t even know who it was. rindou you need to calm down.” sanzu too was frustrated beyong belief.

the whole loft was filled with tension that was denser than a brick wall. everyone considered yakuro a part of bonten after two years. he even got a bonten tattoo per mikey’s request. it lays on his right shoulder which he covers up during his job with makeup despite his hatred, it was the only condition ackerman gave him before he could work at bunny palace. ackerman and bonten hated each other, seeing a bonten tattoo at the ackermans would start a war. 

“he’s quitting that job and working at our club. this is the last time i’ll EVER see him like this again.” this wasn’t the first time rindou raised his voice when he was angered by the way yakuro looked in this condition. unable to move, speak, only look plainly at the wall with a weak smile here and there.

it tore him apart from the inside out each time, it did every member living in the loft. finally after whatever happened between those two. sanzu left, rindou left as well but returned with water and began to cuddle the numb and quiet yakuro.

#toyko revengers #tokyorev #tokyorev imagine #tokyo revengers rindou #rindou haitani #rindo haitani #x oc #fanfiction #tokyorev fanfiction #tokyo revengers fanfiction #bonten #tokyorev bonten #ran haitani #sanzu haruchiyo #angst #soft ending #angst with a hopeful ending #𝄖entiwrites

[lost-in-the-80s]

Once Upon A Time In Hollywood

Pairing: Axl Rose x (fem) reader

Words: 2,546k

Requested by: @sugwinter

Summary: You, one of the most prestigious actresses in Hollywood, meet Axl Rose at a party and the two of you just can’t stay away from each other. 

A/N: I’m sorry Tarantino, but the title fitted too well for me not to use it. Thanks for the request, darling! I LOVED this concept!! I hope you like it 💗

Note: This is the second version of it, since I didn’t like the first one. Tell me what you guys thought of it :)

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @normatural​ add yourself to my tag list :)

Once upon a time in Hollywood, there was a smart young woman named Y/N. She had always been ambitious and very determined so she knew she wanted to be an actress at a very young age.

When she was 16 she started running after her dreams. Coming from a poor neighborhood in Los Angeles, she’d take the bus every day after school and go to Hollywood, distributing resumes at every set she could find, hoping to get any type of work that could bring her closer to her dream.

The chance came a few months later when she was hired to be the director’s assistant. Her work consisted of getting coffee, organizing his table, staying with him while filming and distributing the scripts to all the cast members.

He was directing a sitcom and one day the main actress didn’t show up for the filming, realizing that the two of them looked alike, he asked Y/N to take her place during that day.

She did such a good job, that the following year he called her asking if she would be interested in taking part in a movie.

That was the first of many jobs, 10 years had passed after that. It was 1991 and Y/N was one of the highest-paid actresses in Hollywood, any movie with her name on, joined countless people in cinema lines just to see it. 

She didn’t just make movies and series, but she extended her career,  taking part in some modeling jobs for major brands and appearing in video clips.

That’s how she met Steven Tyler, the infamous vocalist of Aerosmith. She had said in an interview that Aerosmith was one of her favorite bands and got surprised when the band’s manager got in touch with her a few days later asking if she would want to take part in a video clip of theirs. 

Doing small talk before the footage they found out they had the same zodiac sign, Aries. After that the two of them got really along, Steven invited her to have dinner with him and his wife and soon all of them became good friends. 

That’s how she ended up here, on March 26th in front of his mansion, a bottle of expensive wine wrapped as a gift in one hand while the other rang the doorbell. 

“Y/N! Come in!” It was Steven’s wife.

“Hello, Teresa, how are you?” She hugged her.

“I’m fine!” She smiled tenderly at Y/N.

There was rock music blasting from the speakers sprawled around the living room, where lots of people were dancing and having fun together. Steven was known for having many friends.

“Ste!!” She shouted, lifting her arms to get a hug from the man.

“Y/N! I’m happy that you came!”  He hugged her while smiling.

“Happy birthday!!” She let go of him. “Here, I brought you a gift.”

“Ohh, this is one of my favorites!” He smirked checking out the bottle. “I’ll take it to the wine house before someone decides to drink it.” He gave her a small smile, turning around. 

That’s when she saw him. He was talking to some people, his hair half-covered by a blue bandana. He was already looking at her, smiling in her direction when their gazes met. 

A shiver ran through her body at that moment. He was beautiful, an adjective she hardly used with men. But damn, she had never seen a man like that before. Everything on him looked perfect, his beard, his hair, his eyes and the shape of his face. 

He lifted his beer in her direction and she gave him a small smile, contemplating if she should go and try to talk to him. However, a friend of hers showed up, blocking her plans.

After a few minutes of talking her friend walked away, but the ginger man had disappeared. Walking towards the kitchen she got herself a beer and went to the backyard where some people were smoking, including Steven.

“Can I have one?” She asked, stopping beside him.

He handed her the cigarette, without saying anything. The two of them just stayed there, looking at the night sky in silence. 

“What’s up?” She frowned, turning to look at him.

“What do you mean?” He looked down at her.

“You’re quiet tonight.” She drank from her beer, still looking at him.

“That makes two of us.” He smiled at her.

“Fair enough.” She grinned. “You go first.” Y/N pointed at him with the bottle while taking the cigarette to her lips.

“I was just thinking… I’m already in my forties.” 

“Annd?” She prolonged the question, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought I’d be dead by now.” He said giggling, making her laugh as well.

She shook her head. “Quit using it and I’m sure you’ll live a very long life, Tyler.” 

“I’ll try, I’ll try.” He puffed some smoke. “What about you? What’s going on that little head of yours?” He touched her forehead with his index finger, giggling at his own gesture.

“There’s a guy inside…” 

He raised an eyebrow, instigating her to keep talking.

“He seems familiar.”

“How does he look like?”

“He’s ginger, with a bandana and leather jacket.” She dragged some smoke.

“Oh, that’s Axl. He’s from Guns n Roses.” He threw his cigarette on the pavement, stepping on it.

Realization took hold of her face. “Oh yeah. Paradise City! I remember now.”

“Did he catch your eye?” He asked smirking.

“You know how I am. I’m weak on the knees for a ginger.” She smirked back.

“Let’s go inside then, I’ll introduce the two of you.” 

She followed him inside the house, putting out the cigarette in an ashtray she found on the way.

They found him in the kitchen, putting some punch on a red plastic glass nearby the counter. 

“Axl!” He shouted over the music, stopping nearby the man. “There’s someone here I’d like you to meet..”

Fuck, Steven. You really know how to be discreet. She thought to herself.

“Axl, this is Y/N.” With a hand on her back, he led her closer to him. “Y/N this is Axl.” He grinned at them.

“Nice to meet you.” Axl said, extending his hand for her to shake.  

She shook his hand giving him a small smile.

“I was just telling Y/N that you guys released a new album this year…” Steven looked at her. 

“There’s two of them actually.” He answered while taking a sip from the punch.

“So I’ve heard! But I didn’t get the chance to listen to them yet.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty recent… Did you listen to the previous ones?”

“I did! They’re quite impressive, I must say.”

He smiled at her. “I’ve seen some movies of yours too.”

“Oh, did you? What did you think of them?”

“They’re… quite impressive.” He mocked her while grinning. 

She giggled. 

“Ste, can you help me with something?” Teresa showed up, hugging Steven from the side.

“Of course my darling.” He hugged her back. “Sorry guys.” Giving them a small smile he left with Teresa. 

“Punch?” He asked seeing that her bottle was empty. 

“Yes, please.” She placed the bottle on the counter. 

Axl handed her a glass, their fingers brushing against each other when she took it from his hand, making a strange electricity run through their bodies.

“Do you live here? In L.A I mean.” She asked before taking a small sip of the beverage. 

“I do, even though I’m never at home. I’m out on tour now, came back just for a few weeks.”

“It must be really tiring to be always traveling.”

“Well, it is, but it’s worth it. After all I get to do what I love.” His eyes shined while he spoke and she smiled at his passion. 

A tall guy came to the counter trying to get some punch for himself, making the two of them move.

Starting to lead him towards an adjacent living room, she asked. “Have you always wanted to be a singer?”

“No really, my family is very religious so I started singing in the church’s choir. Then someone told my mother that I could sing and she made me take classes almost every day. It was very exhausting, but it made me realize that I actually liked to sing.”

Arriving at the room, nobody was there and the music made itself lower, allowing them to talk in a normal volume. They sat on the purple velvet couch. 

“I would’ve never guessed. And are you still religious?”

“I mean, I don’t go to church anymore, but yeah, I’m still very religious.”

She nodded drinking from her glass. 

“What about you? Have you always wanted to be an actress?”

“Yes! I remember being 3 or 4 and sitting in the living room, I’d point to the TV and tell my mom that I wanted to do that.” She smiled with the memory, her eyes getting a different glist. 

“That’s a sweet memory.” He smiled at her.

And so they carried on with the conversation, talking about their favorite things and their ambitions, never letting an uncomfortable silence fill in. Even if they were sure that if the silence set in it would not be uncomfortable. The two were too comfortable with each other for this to happen.

Axl was leaning against the couch casually, his legs spread open while S/N had removed her high heels and was sitting with her two legs sprawled on top of the couch.

“And how did you end up in Los Angeles?” She asked.

“Well, when I was 16 or something, this boy from my school, he’s my rhythm guitarist now, he started a garage band with some other dudes and asked me to be their vocalist.” 

He paused getting closer to her.

“In the beginning, I was very shy, there would be days where I’d literally leave before I could sing anything. But after some time I got used to it and eventually realized that it was nice to rehearse with them.”

“However the band didn’t work out and when Izzy graduated high-school he moved to L.A, he said he’d start a band here. He asked me to come with him, but I was kinda scared of coming to a big city like this, so I stayed in Lafayette.” 

He looked around, realizing that the music had stopped. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t listened to anything for a good while. “I think we’re the only ones who are still here.” He giggled.

“No shit! What time is it?” She touched his arm, turning it towards her so she could see the time on his wristwatch. “Fuck, it’s almost 5 am.”

“Wow. We should go then.”

“Yeah!” Getting up she got her heels and purse and followed him through the house.

There were some people passed out in the living room and Steven and Teresa were in the kitchen, nearby the sink, talking quietly.

After saying their goodbyes Axl and Y/N exited the house. The cool breeze involved their bodies, even though they could see the sun starting to shine on the horizon. 

“Did you come driving?” He asked.

“No, I got a taxi actually.”

“Come, I’ll give you a ride then.”

They got into the car and Axl started driving slowly down the street. “Where should I take you to?”

“I live in Venice.”

“Alright then.” He turned right in a bifurcation.

Checking the interior of the car, Y/N realized it was a convertible one. She gasped. “It’s a convertible! Open it up, please!” 

He giggled pressing a button that opened the bonnet. “Why are you so impressed? I’m sure you have at least three of these in your car collection…”

“I don’t have a car collection. I don’t even have a car” She turned around on her seat. The bonnet was fully open and she enjoyed feeling the breeze on her hair.

“Why not?” He frowned, looking at her for a brief moment.

“You’re gonna laugh at me.” She sat still on her seat, placing her feet on the dashboard. 

“I promise I won’t.”

“Fine… I don’t know how to drive.” 

“Wait. What? But what about all those movies where you were driving?” He looked at her, trying to see if she was joking.

“I wasn’t really driving, silly.” She giggled.

He laughed along.

“Anyway, you were telling me about how you ended here.”

“Oh yeah! So, Izzy came to L.A and I stayed for two more years. I got a job and stuff, but I was always getting in trouble. I’d spend the night in jail and they’d let me go in the morning ‘cause it wasn’t a big deal. But then I got in trouble one more time and they told me they’d arrest me for real if they got me again. So I realized I should leave the city.”

“Hmm, so you’re a bad boy…” Y/N smirked.

“I guess so…. But you’re no saint yourself! You’re not best friends with the press…”

“Well...yeah! The problem is that I don’t know how to be politically correct, I just know how to be me, and people don’t usually like when you give them your honest opinion.”

He looked at her and saw that she was looking through the window.

“On top of that, I have a high tendency of not giving a fuck… I like to live, you know? I like to go out and enjoy every moment, I like to live in the present. But apparently, you’re a bad influence if they see you leaving a club at 3 am every weekend.”

With every word she said, the more he wanted to know about her. She was so much more than what he had thought. 

It was a long drive to Venice and accompanied by the soft music playing on the car radio they talked all the way, never getting tired of each other’s voice.

“That’s my building.” She pointed to a big white building in front of the beach.

“Fully delivered.” Axl said smiling, stopping the car in front of it and turning around to look at her.

“I really liked spending time with you.” She smiled.

“Do you think we could do it again on a date?” He asked expectantly.

“I’d love that! What about Friday?”

“Friday’s good for me. I’ll pick you up at 7 pm.” 

“Okay.”

The two of them just stayed still, looking at each other without saying anything. 

“Is it too early for me to kiss you?” He asked smiling.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you try it?” She smiled back.

And so the two of them leaned in, involving each other in a quick kiss that turned into a passionate one.

After a few seconds, she pulled away, catching her breath and opening the car door.

“Goodnight, Axl.” 

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Little did they know that this was the beginning of a beautiful love story. Full of struggles and problems but that eventually worked out. They found a way of accepting their differences and getting along in a way that few couples could do. And after many years people still talked about them, after all, they became the most iconic 90s couple. 

#harley writes #axl rose #axl rose fanfic #axl rose fic #axl rose x reader #axl rose imagine #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fic #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses x reader #gnr #gnr imagine #classic rock imagine

[honey-dewey]

Lightning in a Bottle

Pairing: Trans Fem! Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/GN! Reader

Word Count: 2,484 

Warnings: swearing, homophobia/transphobia, needles, hurt/comfort.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell​

It is week three of pride month! This is the third set of prompts that came from @flightlessangelwings and @autumnleaves1991-blog​ Pride writing prompts! I’ve never written Trans Jack before, and while I would typically headcanon him as trans masc, I thought this would be fun instead. 

Prompts: Glitter and/or “I’ll always be by your side”

You sighed, settled at Jack’s vanity as you organized her makeup. She was a menace when it came to organization, and more often than not, you were the one lining her lipsticks up in front of the mirror and putting the eyeliner pens back in their cup. After two years, you’d think she’d get the hang of this, but you’d be wrong. Even when she was away, like she was now, she couldn’t bother to put anything where it went before she left. You put her brushes back in their proper place in a drawer, absently checking your phone for the time or a text. Jack was due home any minute now, and even though she hadn’t been away for long, her absence had affected you. 

The front door creaked open, and you perked up, turning in the vanity chair so you could pay attention to the sounds coming from downstairs. 

“Hey babe!” Jack’s voice filtered up the stairs, and you smiled, hearing her take her boots off downstairs. “I’m home!” 

Standing, you abandoned the mini project you’d been working on in favor of walking to the top of the stairs to watch Jack shimmy out of her coat and hang her hat up on top of the coat rack. She was a picture of beauty, her back to you as she loosened the top buttons of her shirt and rolled her sleeves up. Turning, she caught sight of you, her face pulling into a wide smile. “There’s my baby!” She said, running up the stairs until she was on the landing. “Come kiss me. I missed you.” 

You ran down the steps, crashing into Jack and wrapping her in a hug. She’d been gone for two days, out on a mission for work. It was only two days, but you’d been grouchier than usual for those two days, and all you wanted was Jack cuddles. “I missed you too baby.” 

Jack scooped you up, carrying you to the bedroom and plopping you down on the bed. As you laughed, Jack pulled her skirt and petticoat off, leaving her in shorts and her button up. You smiled, gesturing her close. Jack didn’t argue, crawling across the bed so she could rest her head on your chest. It took a minute to find the best spot that wouldn’t send any of your limbs to sleep, but when you did find it, you knew Jack wouldn’t be getting up for anything. 

“Did you have fun?” You asked, gently tugging Jack’s hair ties out and undoing her two braids. “Where’d they send you? Wasn’t it Montana again?” 

“It was,” Jack said, eyes closed as you combed through her curls with your fingers. “Still as beautiful as ever. I’m gonna take you for our honeymoon.” 

You chuckled, blinking slowly. “If we ever get married,” you finished. 

“We will,” Jack promised, reaching up and trapping one of your hands in hers. “We absolutely will.” 

Almost an hour passed while you and Jack cuddled, both of you nearly falling asleep until you remembered something. “Ah fuck,” you grumbled, untangling your limbs from Jack’s. “I have to run to the grocery store. I forgot to do it yesterday. I was so hectic with this work thing, and then you called to tell me you were coming home, and it completely slipped my mind.” As you rambled, you pulled on a neater shirt, looking around for your shoes. 

“Can I come?” Jack asked, rolling over and sitting up. 

“When am I ever going to say no to that?” You pointed out, picking up Jack’s skirt and tossing it at her. “But you should probably cover your ass.” 

Jack laughed, leaving her skirt on the bed in favor of scooping up a pair of shorts. She loosely tucked her shirt into her pants, piling her hair up into a claw clip and watching as you finally found your shoes. “Big trip or small trip?” She asked, tossing you a pair of socks. 

“Medium trip,” you said. “I don’t need a ton, mostly just stuff for dinner and the odd thing or two. So we can go to Sam’s.” 

Sam’s market was a tiny mom and pop grocery store that hadn’t changed in decades, but you adored it. It was a ten minute drive, and you and Jack were there in no time. 

“Fucking love this place,” Jack said happily, reaching out to pet Claire, one of the resident cows. “Reminds me of my dad’s ranch.” 

You nodded, grabbing a basket and entering the store. Jack followed, immediately detouring to the pharmacy. You stayed nearby, half listening as Jack picked up her estrogen and made her way back to you. 

“I hate those things,” Jack said, putting her prescription bag in your basket beside a bag of dried apple slices. “They’re super gross.” 

You smiled. “You don’t have to eat them,” you said, linking your arm with Jack’s. “But I like them.” 

The trip around the store was quick, and in no time, you were up at the counter. Sam, the owner, grinned when you two came up. “Haven’t seen you two in a while,” he said. “How’s work?” 

“Good,” Jack said. “Just got back from a business trip, actually. It’s why I’m late on my prescription.” 

“Ah,” Sam said, pulling the bag out of the basket. “Jen was wondering why you hadn’t picked it up yet. It’s all still working out for you?” 

Jack nodded, opening her mouth to say something before a loud snort came from behind her. She turned, and so did you. Behind you was a young man with his arms crossed, looking between the two of you with a grin. “Did I interrupt?” He said in a thick southern drawl. “I’m sorry.” 

“No,” Jack said, drawing herself up to her full height and raising an eyebrow. “Do you have something to say?” 

The man shook his head. “Not to you, you freak.” 

Jack blinked, stepping back a tiny bit. She’d been passing consistently ever since her hair got long and she started to hit what she called second puberty, and it was rare anyone was able to tell right off the bat that she wasn’t a biological woman. You stepped in front of her, shielding her from the man. “You leave my girlfriend alone.” 

“That ain’t a girl,” the man jeered. “That’s a man in a skirt.” 

Your jaw clenched, and you were two seconds from punching the man square in the jaw when Sam stepped in. 

“Here are your purchases,” he said, handing you a bag. “And you,” he turned to the man. “Need to leave if you’re going to be harassing my loyal customers like that.” 

Jack gripped your hand as you quietly pulled her towards the truck. She was dead silent as you put your bag in the backseat and slumped over the steering wheel. “You okay?” You asked softly, not wanting to startle Jack. 

She shook her head, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. “I just wanna go home,” she said thickly, voice wavering. 

It took all of your willpower not to pull over when Jack’s crying didn’t stop, and when you were finally home, you immediately closed the distance between you and Jack, holding her tight against you. She collapsed into your arms, burying her face in your shoulder and sobbing. You rubbed her back, silently curing the man in the store. 

“Jack?” You said, still holding Jack close. “You know I love you, right? No matter what.” 

“But-“ 

“No.” You pulled away, putting your hands on Jack’s shoulders and making her look at you. “No! I love you, no ifs, ands, or buts. I will always be by your side Jack. I don’t care who you are or what you look like. I love you for you.” 

Jack bowed her head, face hidden by her hair. “You’re sure?” She asked, voice so small you almost didn’t hear her. 

“I’m sure,” you said. “C’mon, let’s go inside. It’s more comfortable than the bench seat of your old ass truck.” 

Jack stood, following you into the house. She trudged up the stairs, still holding your hand as she went. When you dropped the grocery bag by the bedroom door and tugged Jack inside, she didn’t protest, only looked at you, slightly confused. 

“I was going to wait until your birthday, because I know Statesman insists on that huge birthday gala for you,” you said, sitting Jack in her vanity. “But I think you should have this now.”

Jack watched you enter your closet, growing more confused by the second. “What is it?” 

“Close your eyes,” you said, grabbing a hangar. “It’s a surprise!” 

When you peeked out of the closet, Jack had her hands over her eyes, waiting patiently. You hung the hangar on the back of the closet door, smoothing out the garment and moving to stand behind Jack. You took her wrists gently in your hands, smiling. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” Jack said, leaning back against your chest. 

You pulled Jack’s hands off her eyes. She gasped almost immediately, seeing the intricate and gorgeous dress hanging in front of her. 

“Happy early birthday,” you said. “I had Ginger help me with things like measurements, but it’s 100% custom made. I figured since you didn’t have a dress for your birthday party, I could get you one. What do you think?” 

Jack was speechless, turning around to hug you. “I love it,” she said, voice tight with emotion. “It’s perfect.” 

You smiled, kissing Jack’s cheek. “Every woman should have a fancy evening dress that makes her feel like royalty. Wanna try it on?” 

Jack was incredibly eager to put the dress on. You ushered her into the bathroom, carrying the dress and handing it to her as she ducked behind a privacy divider. 

“Oh my god!” You heard her say after you heard the zipper pulling shut. “It fits perfectly!” 

“Do you want shoes?” You asked, still not peeking around the divider. 

Jack was quiet for a minute. “Yeah. Those white ones.” 

You knew exactly what she was talking about and grabbed the aforementioned white shoes. Handing them to Jack, you waited while she finished getting dressed, barely managing to contain your patience. When you finally heard her heels on the tile, you looked up, fully breathless as Jack stepped out from behind the divider. 

She was gorgeous. The dress hugged her in all the right places, conforming to the curve of her waist and the slope of her hips as if it were a second skin. The heart shaped neckline and thin straps showed off what you and Ginger had both agreed was a very professional amount of skin, but still enough to make Jack feel sexy. The top of the dress was beaded with shimmering beads, each one catching the light and making Jack seem positively radiant. Even with minimal makeup and her hair haphazardly tossed up, she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 

“Oh Jack,” you said, standing in front of her. “I don’t- I can’t. You look. I don’t even have the words to say how beautiful you are.” 

Jack smiled, swishing the dress. “I love it,” she said softly. “Thank you. I feel like a princess.” 

“You look like a queen,” you breathed, putting your hands on Jack’s sides. “God above you look stunning.” 

You two stood there for a while, just holding each other, until Jack pulled away to take the dress off. You watched her go, silently gathering her pyjamas, knowing she’d want them. When you were done, you headed out of the bedroom, intent on putting away the groceries that had been left out in your eagerness to show Jack her dress. 

Jack came trailing down the stairs after ten minutes, wearing her Hello Kitty pyjama pants and an old Statesman distillery shirt that was a size too big. You kissed her and handed her a bag of apples as she entered the kitchen. “Put these away please?”

“Sure thing,” Jack said, moving around you to put the apples in the fruit bowl. “Can you grab my medicine?” 

You reached around Jack and grabbed her estrogen bottle and a syringe. She hopped up on the counter, tugging up one of her pant legs to give you easier access to her thigh. After having been shot multiple times, often fatally, needles were something Jack didn’t even blink at. Giving Jack her estrogen had been something you’d had to work up to in the first year, but now you could do it with ease. 

“Ready?” You asked, holding up the syringe. “Three, two,” you pushed the syringe into Jack’s leg. “One!” 

Jack made a face at you as you disposed of the syringe and pressed a Disney princess bandaid to the tiny puncture wound. “Your bedside manor is horrible. Could’ve at least waited until you said one to stick me.” 

You laughed. “You say that every time!” You said, taking Jack’s hands and helping her off the counter. “Bake Off or Friends?” 

“Can we watch Friends?” Jack asked eagerly, following you to the couch and grabbing the TV remote. “I’m in the mood to laugh.” 

“We can watch Friends,” you said, snuggling up next to Jack. “I’ll never say no to Friends.” 

While Jack cued up the show, you fell against her shoulder, already feeling sleepy. In a few hours, you’d have to get up and make dinner, and Jack probably had a report to write on her mission, but for now, it was completely calm in the house.

At some point during the second episode you watched, you must’ve fallen asleep, because one minute, you were sleepily watching Friends, and the next, you were opening your eyes to Jack holding two bowls of her famous cowboy mac-and-cheese. You sat upright, accepting the bowl with a small pout. “I was gonna make dinner.” 

“But you didn’t,” Jack pointed out, sitting beside you and taking a bite. “I swear, this gets better and better the more I make it.” 

“Don’t tell Tequila,” you said. “He would kill a man for this bowl of food.” 

Jack laughed. “He would,” she agreed. “Did you have a good day today?” 

“My girlfriend came home,” you said sweetly. “Of course I had a good day. What about you?” 

“Hm,” Jack hummed, pretending to think. “Well, I got to see my beautiful partner again, so that was good. But then a raging asshole yelled at me, and that was bad. But the dress made up for it, so all in all, a good day.” 

You smiled, leaning against Jack and gesturing to the TV. “I’m glad you had a good day. More Friends to finish it off?” 

“You know me so well,” Jack said happily, taking the remote again. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you said, turning your attention mostly to the TV. “No matter what.”

#Kingsman #kingsman the golden circle #agent whiskey #jack 'whiskey' daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing #writer wednesday #jey's pride celebration 2k21

[redrobinfection]

(16) Graveyard

SociallyAwkwardFox’s Spooktober (2018) - Day 16 “Graveyard”

Tim & Damian | Implied JayTim | Implied DickDami | College AU | No Capes | Crack | actual discussion of literature | Dick Grayson was adopted by the Drakes instead of the Waynes | Want to write/create with me? Find the prompt list here!

~*~

"How about four out of seven?" Tim asked with a shrug, winding up the toilet paper roll again.

Damian, his fellow barista, threw his roll at Tim's head, missing wildly. He glared. "You cheated, Drake!"

Tim rolled his eyes as he retrieved Damian's roll and began winding it up too. "How could I cheat at coffee cup bowling, ‘Wayne’?"

"You wind your roll too tightly. It doesn't unravel as much when you pitch it and thus has more mass by the time it hits the cups."

Tim raised his eyebrows. "What are you now, a physics major? That just sounds like strategy, dude. You are free to roll your roll as tightly as you'd like. That isn't against the rules."

Damian fumed. "The rules you made up! This is why I said we should use the rice crispy ba--customer."

Tim whirled on the spot, seeing that, indeed, a paying customer had entered their little, semi-enclosed coffee shop. Outside, a few students sat or sprawled over the sectional couches that filled the large basement of the university student union in which the shop was located.

Tim turned and vaulted over the counter. He heard a quiet "-tch-" from Damian as he walked to the hinged raise-able section of the counter and let himself in.

Tim straightened his apron and stepped up the register with a smile. The customer stood about five feet from the register, head tilted back, studying the menu board over Tim's head with bleary eyes. The guy was like a zombie, he was that exhausted. Tim cut his eyes over to the clock on the wall. 3:45 am. Hell of a time for coffee.

Tim glanced over his shoulder at Damian, who was reawakening the cranky espresso machine with deft fingers. Seven hours and forty-five minutes with Damian "the Demon " Wayne down, only four hours and fifteen minutes to go. Tim turned back to their customer and sighed. This was going to be a loooooooong morning.

At second glance, there was something familiar about the guy, but Tim couldn't put his finger on where he knew him. The guy had pretty teal eyes, but they were reddened and dull, like he hadn't closed them except to blink in way too long. He was also pretty well cut, Tim noticed, with clearly muscled arms and pecs so defined that Tim could clearly see them through the man's sweater. Maybe that's how Tim knew him? Maybe he'd seen him in the UREC weight room?

The guy's most eye-catching feature by far was the white forelock that curled down over his forehead. He was the third person Tim had met to have a whitened forelock like that; the other two were fraternal twins who had had small patches of albinism right at their widows peaks which affected both the skin and hair. Tim idly wondered if this guy's white lock was natural too. In any case, it looked frickin' cool, a lot cooler than his own; the best thing he could say about his own hair was that he could pull off the 90's curtain cut plus semi-mullet well enough that he could go an entire semester on a single haircut.

Tim was drawn out of his thoughts when dude finally stepped up to the counter and began to speak.

"Uh, hi, could I get a large, double-shot caramel latte?"

"Absolutely. How many pumps of caramel do you want?" Tim asked cheerily.

The guy looked up from digging through his overly stuffed messenger bag. "Uhh…the normal four should be fine."

"Okay, that will be $6.47. Can I get a name for the order?"

The guy didn't look up this time. "Uh, Jason. Gimme a sec', I know my wallet is at the bottom of this thing somewhere."

"No problem, take your time. It's not like we have a line, anyway," Tim joked.

This guy looked so dead right now--inside and out--that if he didn't find his wallet, then Tim would probably just buy the coffee for the guy himself. He understood better than anyone the sudden need for caffeine at odd hours of the day. He's not sure how he would have finished half his computer science projects this term without a much-needed double-espresso every couple of hours, to be honest.

The guy--'Jason' apparently--finally fished out a small money clip then handed over a student ID card. "Put it on my Dining Dollars, please."

"Yeah, no probl- wait a minute!" Tim cut off, staring. Suddenly, it had hit Tim where he knew this guy. "Aren't you that kid who always sits at the front of Professor Hyatt's nine-fifteen, Tuesday-Thursday, Modern European Literature and answers all the questions?"

The dude raised an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah. Why…? Wait…" He squinted and leaned in. "Aren't you the kid who once tried to sit all the way back in the AV booth, since, and I quote, 'the back wasn't far enough back'?"

Tim grinned as he swiped the ID card through the register. "Haha, yeah."

Damian moved as if to step up to the counter, the guy's drink in hand, but stopped dead about a foot away. He stared.

"Wait. Aren't you the guy who always comes in, gets tea, and sits in the window over there and reads romance novels?" Damian asked, eying him appraisingly.

The dude huffed. "Yes. My name is Jason--by the way--and they're not romance novels, it's classic lit. Now can I get my coffee?"

Damian handed the coffee over the counter, but raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You mean to tell me Rebecca is not a romance novel?"

"Wait, what!? Do you mean Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca?" Tim asked as he handed Jason's ID card back over the counter.

Damian nodded wordlessly. Tim snorted, then said, "That's not a romance! That's a totally a murder mystery! You must be confusing it with Jane Eyre. I get those mixed up too."

Jason nodded in agreement, tucking his ID away before taking his first sip of coffee. He moaned, his eyes fluttering for a moment as he savored in the sweet bliss of piping hot caffeine at 3:49 in the morning, then he looked at Damian and said, "Well, actually, I'll give you that one, uh…" --he paused to squint at Damian's name tag-- "...'Damian'; Rebecca is a modern romance novel by classification, but it's also a crime thriller just like--whazzatsay?--'Tim' said."

He turned to Tim. "I'm not surprised you'd confuse it with Jane Eyre, considering that a lot of scholars believe du Maurier adapted it from Jane Eyre."

"Wait, really?" Tim said with a laugh. "I'm glad I'm not the only one thinking that! Rebecca is like the less boring version of Jane Eyre."

Jason froze halfway into sitting down in one of the arm chairs that lined the wall closest to the door and looked up at Tim as if he had just suggested burning down the library or something similarly unthinkable. "Whaaaaaat?! I can't believe you just implied that any of the Brontë sisters' works is boring!"

Tim laughed again. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I was only twelve when I read Jane Eyre, so maybe I'd enjoy it more if I read it again now--with a mature perspective--but I remember Rebecca being a blast for thirteen-year-old me so…" He smiled, then shrugged.

Jason stared. "Twelve? Thirteen? Jeez. What else were you trying to read that young?"

"I mean, I read Moby Dick the year before that, in sixth grade," Tim admitted, shrugging until his shoulders hit his ears.

Jason gave him a flat stare. "Moby Dick? Moby fucking Dick? You've gotta be kidding me. And lemme guess, you also thought Herman Melville's masterpiece was a load of crock?"

Tim laughed, but shook his head and waved his hands placatingly. "No, no, no. I only understood, like, every fifth word--so.many.whaling.terms!--and it took me four months to get halfway in only to realize there was no way I was going to finish it by the end of the school year--I ended up skipping to the end and guessing for a lot of the AR test questions--but I definitely got the sense that it was a seminal work and that I was just too young to appreciate it. I've always meant to go back and try it again, but I still haven't gotten around to it."

"Why the hell were you trying to read Moby Dick at the age of twelve?" Jason asked incredulously, leaning back in the chair and taking a long sip of his coffee.

"Eleven, but, ah, well, my mom was convinced I had to be The BestTM in everything, so she pushed me to max out my Accelerated Reader level by the end of sixth grade and demanded that I always get the most AR points of anyone in my class, so I read a lot of the 20 point-and-up books." Tim tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I think Moby Dick was 47 points...Rebecca was 25...Jane Eyre was 33..."

Jason stared, shaking his head slowly. "So…what? You're fine with Moby Dick, a romance of the American Renaissance, but a gothic romance of the British Victorian era like Jane Eyre isn't good enough for you? Next you'll try to tell me you think Wuthering Heights is a snooze fest!"

"Well, I mean, I never could get into it, so…"

Jason slammed both hands down on the arms of his chair, incensed. "Okay, Mister, get your butt over here and sit down, we need to have a talk about Victorian Gothic and why, hands down, it is some of the best literature ever written."

Tim laughed again, then bit his lip, considering the offer. He glanced around the nearly empty coffee shop. Then he leaned over the counter and looked out into the lounge--there were exactly four people there and only one of them wasn't completely asleep in their books. Yeah, he could probably afford to humor the man.

He turned to Damian. "Hey, Dames, I'm going to make myself a coffee and take my break. You good to hold down the fort?"

"I told you not to call me that," Damian snapped, but there was no real heat to it; he liked to pretend that he hated the guts of all his coworkers, but Tim knew that he was Damian's favorite. "However, yes, I think I can manage. Go take your damned break, but when you come back I fully expect a rematch in bowling…and don't you dare cheat this time!"

Tim rolled his eyes and groaned, then turned toward trying to coax Ol' 'Spressolino--their affectionate name for the cantankerous espresso machine--into spitting out a double-shot for him. "It's not cheating, but fine, we'll do it your way," Tim replied. "But I'm telling you, you have to buy those rice crispy balls. I definitely don't want to have to explain to Barbara why some of the food on sale looks like it went through the spin cycle in a dorm washer."

Damian grinned smugly. "My pleasure. It will be a small price to pay in order to ensure your swift defeat."

Tim shook his head, grabbed his espresso in one hand and two biscotti off the front counter in the other, ducked under the counter drawbridge, then slid into the armchair across from Jason. He offered one of the biscotti to the other man and Jason accepted the free food with an appreciative smile. He already looked ten times less zombie-like, thanks to the caffiene, and he was honestly pretty damn attractive.

"Okay," Tim said, peeling the wrapper off his own biscotti and dunking it into his bitter cup of joy, "Educate me."

Between sips of coffee and bites of biscotti, Jason began explaining his thoughts on the romantic period of literature, but barely a minute into his lecture, a plastic-wrapped, ball-shaped rice crispy treat about the size of a cantelope whizzed by their feet and crashed into the ten extra-large paper coffee cups arranged in a bowling triangle at one end of the coffee shop, scattering them in a definitive strike.

Jason jumped in his seat and looked around wildly. "What the fuck?"

Tim sighed. "Daaaaaaamiaaaaaaan…"

"Shut up, Drake! I'm practicing. I need to hone my skills and adjust my form so I can thoroughly crush you in our next round," Damian called back. He marched from the counter to the end of the shop to retrieved his plastic-wrapped projectile.

Jason blinked in confusion. "I repeat: what the ever-loving fuck?"

Tim sighed again, then explained, saying, "It gets pretty boring in here during the graveyard shift, so we invented a game, coffee cup bowling. Normally, we'd sleep or study, but Damian finished his exams two days ago and I don't really study for exams, per se-"

"And sleep is for the weak," Damian finished, nodding as he walked past them carrying his sweet, gooey ammunition.

Tim nodded sagely, in agreement. "Sleep is for the weak."

Jason glanced over Tim's shoulder at the coffee cup bowling 'pins' and then over his shoulder at Damian as he lined up another throw. "You guys are insane," he declared.

Tim made a dismissive gesture. "I mean this is my third graveyard shift in a row and Damian here is almost 20 hours into a 24-hour stint. After that much sleep deprivation, you'd lose your sanity too."

Jason tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Fair enough."

"If you want, you're welcome to join us after we finish our coffee and literature talk," Tim offered amiably.

Jason watched as Damian threw another strike, sending one cup so far it landed in the pot of the ficus in the corner, and raised his eyebrows. "You know what…why not." He turned back to Tim with a grin. "I could use a bit of fun before I go back to work on my Native American Lit paper."

"Are you a lit major?" Tim asked curiously.

"I am."

Tim nodded. "That makes sense."

"And you?"

"I'm a CS major--computer science."

"That makes sense," Jason echoed, grinning.

Tim grinned back at him and waved a hand. "Okay, so as you were saying…?"

"Yes, as I was saying…"

Jason continued his little lecture while they continued sipping their coffee and nibbling on the biscotti. When they had finished--the coffee, not the discussion, because Tim was pretty sure Jason would go on for hours about literature once you got him started--they joined Damian in a game of "ten-cup."

It was in the middle of this heated battle of cups and marshmallow-bonded puffed-rice cereal balls that their next customer found them fifteen minutes later. The man, dressed in flower printed leggings and a black hoodie with "Gotham University Aerial Arts" printed across the chest in blue, took one look at them and grinned.

"Oh, hey! Coffee-cup bowling! I love that game! Do you think I could interrupt you guys for just a sec to get some hot chocolate?"

All three of them--the two baristas plus their customer--turned and stared.

"Hot… wait, what?" Jason said, laughing a little. "Man, it's like 4:30 in the morning. Why are you getting a hot chocolate at 4:30 in the morning?"

The man laughed, too, shrugging before he explained, saying, "I don't like tea or coffee all that much, but I just finished a 20 page paper on ethics in police enforcement and I need a pick me up. I need to get my warm fuzzies going again."

Tim rolled his eyes and sighed, moving back toward the counter to get the man his drink. "You're going to end up being the cuddliest cop on the street, Dick."

"You know it, Timmy!" the man--'Dick' apparently--exclaimed, pulling Tim into a bear hug when he made the mistake of passing too close to Dick on his way to the counter. The hug escalated into a full on octopus hug as he lifted his legs to wrap around Tim's hips. Tim, for his part, ignored the grapple, opening the leaf in the counter and hobbling over to the drink bar with the human cephalopod still attached.

Damian and Jason stared. Damian cleared his throat and eyed Dick with poorly disguised interest. "Wait, do you know this man, Drake?"

Tim blinked dully as he turned around, a cup in one hand and a packet of instant hot chocolate in the other. "Yes. He's my brother." Dick made a squeeing noise and nuzzled his head into Tim's neck. Tim sighed. "My adopted brother," he amended testily.

Dick laughed, dropped his feet back onto the floor and stood up. He nearly wrung Tim's neck as he tried to hug him around the shoulders. "Awww, don't be like that, Tim. We haven't seen each other in two whole weeks and I needed my Tim-hugs! Gotta meet my cuddle-quota."

Tim shook his head and handed the hot chocolate back over his shoulder. "You're insufferably, insatiably clingy when you're this tired, Dick. Go home and sleep."

Dick finally released him to take the drink. He took a sip of the hot chocolate, sighing in appreciation. "Thanks, Tim, and yeah, but, only if you do the same. You're just as bad as me when you haven't slept, if not worse."

"Can't. Working," Tim answered curtly, vaulting the counter to escape before Dick's grabby hands could reach for him again. His brother wasn't wrong; Tim was always up for a good cuddle after a long stint without proper sleep, but he didn't like public displays of affection.

Dick took one look at the nearly empty coffee shop, the three of them, their game, and then laughed out loud. "Ahhh, the days of getting paid to drink coffee and make up games at 4:30 in the morning. I kind of miss it."

"Would you care to join us," Damian asked abruptly. Dick brightened.

"Absolutely!"

And so that was how the four of them ended up bowling for empty coffee cups with rice crispy treats the size of spaghetti squash while blasting ABBA’s greatest hits--Dick's terrible, wonderful idea--until the sun rose and their shift ended, at eight AM.

By the time the four of them walked out the door, Dick was trying to convince Damian to join him in the aerials gym before breakfast, and Damian, clearly eager to do anything with the handsome college senior, accepted readily. Jason and Tim, on the other hand, were back to discussing literature over coffee--now focused on the merits and downfalls of contemporary science fiction and fantasy as an art form--and making their way to the East Campus Dining Hall, so they could continue their discussion over breakfast.

Tim snorted softly as he listened to Jason list all the ways Dune defined an era of sci-fi/fantasy, then smiled at the way Jason took his hand--without seeming to realize it--to pull him forward after the crosswalk light changed out of Tim's line of sight. Oh, yeah, this one was totally gay/bi/pan and he was definitely asking him out the minute he saw the opportunity, Tim decided.

He smiled. Who would of thought he'd come out of last night's graveyard shift not only having seen his demon coworker and his older brother hit it off--of all things!--but having met someone for himself too! He laughed, thinking, you never know what crazy things you might see, or the people you might meet, at the campus coffee shop at 4 o' clock in the morning!

#my writing #christmasriverswrites #jaytim #dickdami #tim and damian #pre-relationship #college au #no capes #new for 2020! #barely edited; life is rough right now 🙃

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

It Takes Two to Tango

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader 

Warnings: Language, guns, knives, violence, self destructive behavior, mentions of mania and depression, mentions of bipolar disorder, descriptions of tattoo guns, slight slut shaming maybe, a bong, allusion to corrupt government, mentions of prostitution, mentions of parental neglect, and mentions of piercings.

Word Count: 6.5k

Songs: Drew Barrymore- SZA, No Role Modelz- J.Cole, Baby Blue- Action Bronson, Little Dark Age- MGMT, Gansta- Kehlani, Shutter Island- Jessie Reyez, Good Days-SZA, King’s Dead, Kendrick Lamar, and Saint Bernard- Lincoln.

“Which was odd because usually he talks the most on these rides. After we got over the initial awkwardness of the whole fire and Vulture thing we fell back into the way of things. Well if he was going to play this game I would too because what’s that saying? It takes two to tango.”

A/N: Hold on tight a lot goes down and it’s not looking up anytime soon. 

Series Masterlist  Previous Part   Next Part 

I was running faster than I’d ever had before the heels I had been trying on? Not helping my case. Since this is apparently my brand now I backed myself up onto the edge of the building. 

I had a gun trained on me.

“Come with us Y/N please,” 

“No! Who the fuck is Y/N?”

“Don’t play dumb ma’am we’ve done extensive research on you and we see you’ve done the same with us,” 

I rolled my eyes.

“Fuck you! I have no idea what you’re talking about and this is harassment,”

“You’re cornered there’s no way out,” 

The man wasn’t going to shoot me. No one would’ve come all the way out here and have chased me for this long when they had a gun if they were really planning on killing me. They would’ve done it already. And if this was who I thought it was I was not going with them. 

“Just come with us, we’re on your side, we’re not trying to hurt you,” That sounds exactly like someone who was going to hurt me would say.  

“Yeah says the man who has a gun aimed at me,” I rolled my eyes. 

“This is simply a safety precaution, just make this easier for everyone,” 

I looked back at him before making my decision. I was getting the hell out of here now. 

I bent backwards towards the street underneath me. Instead of free falling I put my hands behind me going into a backbend kickover grabbing onto the ledge. 

Using my legs as a propeller I launched myself closer to the wall. I’d gotten lucky and the walls had protruding bricks that I could scale. 

The man who I think was from SHIELD was hot on my tail. So I had to move fast. I scaled my way to the nearest balcony jumping into the pool in a leap of faith. 

I’d made it in thankfully. Guess my story wasn’t over.

Then I had to run. I was running down the streets. Thankfully this was New York and no one would bat an eye at someone who was drenched head to toe running down the street. They’d just pass me off as another nut job and go about their day. 

So much has happened I feel like this is an episode of shameless. You really were too busy to tune in last week you skank ass bitch? I almost died twice and I still managed to check in, whatever, just pay attention to the next clip. 

“So that building exploded and that loud siren noise I think I told you about was going off in my ears and when I left the plane with Vulture and Spidey were fighting by a crashed plane and Vulture put too much power onto his wings and they were gonna blow up. And I got mad like fucking top of the anger iceberg mad. So when I was like on the verge of blacking out like fucking fire came out of my hands and disintegrated those wings. Like they turned to ash before my very eyes. Then I had a panic attack of course and that’s pretty much it,” 

“Uh… I just called you here to tell you I found something about that SHIELD guy who came after but, I’m glad you’re okay,” Felicia told me.

“Sorry… I guess I got too excited,” 

“What'd you find?” I moved over to her in her spinning chair. 

“Look and see for yourself,” She moved out the way.

I sighed plopping down onto the small twin bed.

“I know what you’re doing,” I said, picking up a piece of popcorn. 

“What are you talking about?” Carmen asked as if she was genuinely confused. 

“You’re trying to trick me into eating and sleeping, which is totally not fair because if I want to wallow in self pity I should be able to,” 

“I know what happens when it gets bad and I’m not letting you get there again,”

I sighed again. She is always claiming that she sees herself in me and she wants me to be the best version of myself. 

She acts like since she’s one year older than me that she’s my mentor or something.

 Plus she also thinks I have an undiagnosed and untreated bipolar disorder so who’s to say everything else she says isn’t a lie also. 

We were watching a Wrinkle in Time and I knew I was going to cry when the girl’s dad came back. I always did and I didn’t want to cry today. 

“Wanna go do something?”

“Sure... Where are we going?” 

“Out,” 

I tried on a lot of Carmens clothes and ended up wearing the most extravagant outfit I’d ever worn. I felt extremely giddy for no reason in particular. I was wearing a puffy skirt and corset. We were walking about the streets of Brooklyn with no clear destination in mind just talking.

“I just find it funny that all you have to do to be famous on Tiktok is be white and skinny like smoke a cigarette in a subway station or some shit,”

“Why don’t we get famous?” 

“Now how would we get famous,” I poked. 

“I’m offended that you don’t think we could,” She stopped on the side of the street. 

“Gimme your phone,” She demanded in a kind way.

I plopped it into her palm. 

I’d honestly forgotten where I was for a second because I’d zoned out yet again. She put the phone back in my hand and she had made a Tiktok account for the both of us. 

She was only checking to see if I liked the account name because she took the phone right back afterwards.

I didn’t mind. 

“I should get a tattoo right?” I asked, putting another one of the chamoy gummy worms in my mouth. 

“How many do you have now?” 

“I think like twelve?”

“And that’s not enough for you?”

“Noo! I like the ones I have. I just want a bigger one.” 

“Then do it?” 

We were actually in walking distance of a tattoo parlour I just didn’t trust them. Never cheat on your nail tech or hairstylist and it goes the same for tattoo artists. 

Two subway rides later we were in Queens. I walked up to the front desk and was about to ask for my go to artist but she walked out the back room before I had the chance.

“Y/N, ‘s that you?” She asked. 

“The one and only,” I twirled around in my dress. 

“This dress is very different than your usual style but I can’t say I don’t love it,” She pulled at the fabric then glanced up her eyes, lighting up in recognition. She gasped “Is this Carmen?” 

I nodded “My bad lemme introduce you to each other. Carmen this is Enchantress and you already know Carmen apparently,” 

I’d played a Russian roulette sort of thing with my tattoo Pinterest board just clicking one with my eyes closed. Then there was the buzzing of the gun moving along my skin. Puncturing it in a way that felt extremely bittersweet. 

I never understood people who said tattoos hurt. I could always barely feel them. They felt like a simple scrape over your skin. Also at this shop they still give you the wrapping for your tattoo but it’s filled with ink still so you can move it around in the bubble. I like messing with the ink sack. I think that’s why I come here so often.

I was admiring the tattoo on my lower abdomen in the mirror when I was startled.  

“Wait!” Enchantress exclaimed, starling me “I just realized you got a piercing. Come here,” She beckoned. 

She turned towards me 

“It’s actually super straight, did you do this?” 

I opened my mouth to respond when Carmen answered for me.

“No, some girl did it for her in her school bathroom,” I really gotta stop telling her everything. She’s always snitching on me.

“I want to be mad but I can’t because it actually looks super healthy,” She titled my chin up to get a better view “However if it gets infected I’m beating your ass,” 

We exited the shop after I paid well, Carmen paid but I’ll pay her back. There was a pretty hefty discount too, because Enchantress loved me apparently, I loved her too. She’s an older sister figure like my role model. I mean she was when I was a few years younger. I think I’ve grown out of role models.

I felt a sharp uncomfortable sensation in my body which sort of felt like those anxiety brain zaps but located in my abdomen. 

I looked behind me and there was something off about this man who was standing a few feet behind me. I accidently made eye contact with him and he bolted off. 

Weird. 

“Y/N are you even listening to me?” 

“Huh,” I turned in Carmen’s directions “Sorry what'd you say?” 

“I was saying that since you got a tattoo, I’m gonna cut and dye my hair,” 

“Cool what color?” 

“I don’t know yet let’s go just to CVS ‘nd decide there,” 

I was sitting on the kitchen counter behind the chair Carmen was in as I applied the bleach to her hair singing along to the song playing. 

Why is it so hard to accept the party is over?

You came with your new friend

And her mom jeans and her new Vans

I set the bowl of hair bleach onto the counter hopping down to get ready for my favorite part of the song. 

And she's perfect and I hate it 

I sang it loudly moving my hands around like I always do releasing my energy. It was almost like therapy. Who am I kidding SZA is therapy. 

I used the bathroom and I couldn’t find soap. I looked under the cabinet and found the soap. I also found something else I wasn’t expecting to see. I brought it back into the kitchen with me.

“You have a hello kitty bong?”

She grabbed it from my hands examining it. 

“Well actually I stole it from my sister,” 

“No way, this is Dinah’s? Because she just got ten times cooler,” 

“All I know was she got back in college, then she just stopped using it,” 

I finished Carmen’s hair which for some reason she trusted me enough to cut curtain bangs for her honestly they didn’t look too bad. It was just very time consuming. 

“Okay but are you sure, how’d you know he’s gay?” Harry questioned leaning back to look at the kid again. 

“Just watch,” I raised my voice just enough for him to be able to hear me “Charlie!” 

He turned around as if he were stunned that I was talking to him. 

“Who me?” He asked.

“Yes you,”

“Oh,”

“So can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah sure I guess…”

“What’s your favorite Percy Jackson book?”

“The answer Lightning Thief is pretty basic but it’s my favorite or maybe the Titan’s Curse, I’m not sure,” 

“Okay cool, thank you,” I turned back to face Harry “See,” 

“That doesn’t prove anything but okay,”

“He knew more than one book in the Percy Jackson series that tells me all I need to know,” 

“I know more than one Percy Jackson book,” He eyed me.

“Yeah and you’re gay,”

He just huffed. Got him there. 

“He still wouldn’t fuck you though,” I sat tucked my legs underneath me.

“Whatever shouldn’t you be in your class? Which is it again?”

“Physics,” 

“Oh…”

“Oh what? Don’t oh me,” 

“You’re avoiding Peter,” 

“I’m not avoiding Peter,” I totally was. Just Harry thinks I’m doing it because I like him. I didn’t tell him that but I might've let him believe it, because how do you even go about telling someone Hey I’m avoiding the person because fire came out of my body and they saw it.  I’d sound insane. 

As I was walking to the gym and by to, I mean away from, but that’s not the point, I could’ve sworn I saw the same man from Saturday in the window near the crowd of students. 

Accompanied by the same gut feeling. 

I pushed my way into the gym. To avoid him. I bumped into someone. Off instinct I got defensive but then I heard an 

“Oh, sorry. Sorry!” Once they’d turned around I realized it had been Peter. Just my luck. 

“You’re fine that was basically my fault anyway,” 

I was going to just walk over to one of my friends but they weren’t here and Liz literally just left the school. So I had no escape. 

Well there was one escape. There’s always a way out.

“Y/N!” The female gym coach called. 

“Yes?” I rolled my eyes.

“Where are your gym clothes?” 

“Probably in the locker room...” 

“Why aren’t you wearing them?”

“I didn’t feel like it,”

“You need to change for your grade, participation is important,” 

I picked up my backpack off the floor before pushing open the doors to the girls locker room. Instead of going towards my locker I headed straight for the metal doors leading into the hallway. I went to the space I always seemed to drift to when I had nowhere else to go. 

The teachers bathroom. 

I know that sounds weird but it’s the only one I can lock. I stole a key a while back when I went to get my phone back from one of the teachers. 

I guess Carmen was a psychic or something because one of the videos she’d posted on our group account of us eating in the dresses, me getting that tattoo, and dying Carmen’s hair had blown up. 

I did not see her take any of the clips but the proof was right in front of me. 

The video had half a million views and I assumed that was because of all the comments helping pushing the algorithm.

Some of them were nice like

hey lol 

you’re both gorgeous omg 

That tattoo is cool af 

I want to be you 

I should pay you to do my hair lmao

I can't tell if i want to be you

The other half were like 

No child should be getting a tattoo you look so young

That is the devils sign I’m praying for you. 

Why please Go To God✝️✝️🙏🏻🙏🏻♥️

Im praying for you 

At first I was confused as to why half of the comments were people praying. Then I realized it was because Carmen had on her pentagram necklace. 

I’m definitely not complaining about the comments though because they got me that many views, likes, and follows, but the ignorance upsets me. A pentagram only represents Earth, Air, Water, and Fire it’s about balance. 

 I think it’s cool, kinda like the Avatar. It has nothing to do with Satan. I didn’t really want to think about Fire. I was still freaking out about Friday. It hadn’t happened again so maybe I dreamt it or something. 

Somehow I spent the rest of gym and half of what should’ve been me heading to detention responding to every Christian’s comment with something dumb or witty. 

I was walking towards the detention room and was startled by Peter. Again.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yes?” 

“Um… this is gonna sound insane but,” he paused looking down fiddling with his hands. 

My face twisted up in confusion as to why he still hadn’t spoken. 

“Are you gonna to speak…”

“Oh. Oh!” He looked back up “Yeah you remember my internship right?”

“Yeah…” I guess he was going to act like I didn’t know about him being Spiderman again.

“So now Mr. Stark is interested in you and wants you to come with me upstate,”

“Why me?” 

“I’m not sure, but if you’re coming someone is outside waiting for us,” 

I’m sure this was just another attempt to lure me into some SHIELD mess. However Peter had no idea about Thorn or any of the other fucked up shit I’d done. So it would look suspicious if I didn’t go. Because what kid or any other person wouldn’t want to meet Tony Stark. 

“Okay then, what are we waiting for?” 

The ride there was completely silent. I spent the whole time texting Carmen as she complained about her boyfriend. I really hated him oh my God. Peter had gone into the building about 15 minutes ago. 

“Okay, if he’s always getting on your nerves and trying to control you why are you still with him?” I asked in the snap meant for Carmen. 

“You know why, I’m not going to say it because then you’d get mad at me,” She sent a video back.

“Thank you I do not want to hear about your boyfriends dick-,” I was interrupted by a knock on the window “Okay I can’t talk got to go,” I sent the video before sliding across the seat pushing the door open. 

“What happened?” I asked as Peter sat back in the car. 

“It was a test,” He said, providing no further elaboration. 

The back window was rolled down and the guy who drove us here. Happy, I think. There is no way that was his real name. He stuck his face in the window. 

“Hey, the boss wants to see you now,” 

I turned back to Peter and whispered.

“The boss? Am I about to walk into some mafia meeting,” 

He just laughed at that. 

“We don’t have much time,” Happy urged. 

As we began walking the halls of the giant building as I pocketed random trinkets that I could sell for a quick buck. 

“So what’s your real name?” I asked Happy since this whole time he was leading me it was a silent ride. 

He continued to ignore me.

So I asked again. I could tell from his body language that I was getting on his nerves. 

I asked twice more and by the time the last sentence came out of my mouth we’d already reached our destination. He walked away not before mumbling a quick I hate kids. 

“Y/N it’s nice to meet you,” Tony greeted as he reached out to shake my hand. I allowed it.

“You’re a lot shorter in person,” I pointed out after releasing his hand. 

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” He reached for a bowl putting something in his mouth. “Grape?” He offered.

“No thank you,” Not like they’d be poisoned  or anything, no one had even gotten the chance to question me yet. Also there was the fact that he was eating them but this could be a Princess Bride situation. Not taking any chances. 

“Okay,” He clapped, dusting his hands. “Let’s get to the point now,” 

“So I’ve been informed that you had an instance with pyrokinesis,” He continued after I nodded. “I was hoping to research this to get to the bottom of this,”

“So you want to use me as a lab rat?”

“No of course not, the research would be used purely for your personal benefit,” 

For my benefit my ass. They were going to turn me into a lab rat or a soldier.

“Okay I’ll think about it,” Thought about it. A hard hell no.

“If you do choose to do so since you are a minor I’ll need parental consent,” 

“Of course,” I nodded.

There was a pamphlet that I wasn’t going to read. I wasn’t really going to ask for permission. Was I? If I wasn’t then why was I back at ”my” house. 

I just missed my bed, it was messy but it was mine. 

I started sobbing for no reason at all. Maybe it was the old sketchbooks on my bed, or my mom's broken jewelry box. It could’ve been the smell of incense that never left from the lack of ventilation. It was probably the pile of crystals on my dresser. Then again it could’ve been the nazar eye amulet from the broken bracelet on the ground or the hole in the wall where I used to keep my favorite knife. Maybe it was all of those things. Maybe it was so much more. Maybe it was something different entirely. Maybe it was the colors of the wind. Who knows. 

My eyes stung as my eyeliner dripped down and into them. I blinked the tears away as I went through all my clothes and I mean ALL my clothes. 

I found another bodycon dress. I slipped it on after stuffing a few other articles in my bag. I continued searching to the very back of my closet and I found an old purse. There were at least $50 in the back pocket and in the front pocket there were- Oh. 

There was a small plastic bag with at least 500gs of Xanax. I must’ve left them there after Washington.

 I wasn’t going to take them. I really wasn't; I just put them in the bra. You know for safe keeping. I heard the front door open and made a break for the balcony. 

Although I’d regularly seen my sisters. I still hadn’t seen my dad since I’d left. They’d seen him a couple times though he was fine with the idea of them staying at our grandma’s for who knows how long. He doesn’t care as long as he’s still got that girlfriend of his. I can only imagine what he told her about us not staying with him.

 I jumped down the stairs of the fire escape and my heart almost jumped out of my chest. As something hit my calf. 

I looked down to see it was just Salem climbing up my leg. I lifted her up to my chest nuzzling the top of her head. 

“Hiii baby!” I cooed in a baby voice. 

I now more carefully made my way down the steps so as to not disrupt her. Now I was going to go straight to my grandma’s house to drop off the clothes, but I wanted to go shopping before it got too late.

 I already had no money so I have no idea why I thought it was a good idea but there I was with a $300 charge on my credit card. 

I probably looked insane walking around the mall with a cat in my backpack and black streaks underneath my eyes. 

If you’ve never done this I highly recommend it. Every subway train comes with carts and the last cart is a door with railing and no other restrictions. You can just sneak into the very back. 

The wind hitting your face is the most freeing thing in the world and you can scream as loud as you want and no one will hear you. That fact can be unsettling to some but to me it’s beautiful. 

Releasing your true emotions to no one but you and yourself. I closed my eyes holding onto the railing with one hand and Salem in the other. I put her back into my backpack before sitting down. 

Since the app is addicting, and you can’t tell me it’s not, I opened Tiktok and the first thing I saw is a guy pouring what I hoped wasn’t I thought it was into a bowl. 

So naturally my first reaction was to make a video about it because who doesn’t overshare on the internet. 

“Tell me why,” The track rumbled underneath me, making Salem whine, I picked her up letting her cuddle into my chest. 

“Okay, I have a cat now but-” The track rumbled again “It’s so fucking loud but tell me why I opened this hellfire app and see some dude pouring cum into a bowl, I hate everyone,” 

Within like six minutes of me posting it I had multiple likes and comments. 

The only reason being is that Harry dueted.

 I gotta say being the kid of a mayor and a multimillionaire gives you some form of clout. So he had a pretty heft following.

Harry’s similar to me in the way that we’re mean to our friends. So naturally  we’re ”mean” to each other. 

“You look stupid,” Harry claimed in his video “Also who’s fucking cat did you steal put it back and get in the trains properly and go wash your face,”

I hadn’t even realized I was on my new account at first. 

Of course I made a response video. 

“First of all this is my cat, her name is Salem and she’s adorable” I mean not really but she belongs to no one else, and I feed her. “Second, ignore my eyeliner. I actually think it looks kinda cute,” Lie, It just made me look crazy. “Also how'd you even find this account so fast? Stalker. I’d advise you shut up before I post your phone number then you’d have to ward off groupies. I’m sure you’d like that though.” 

I’m pretty sure the majority of the people in our comments thought we were being serious. So in turn they commented things like I have no idea who you are but I’m on your side, is this gonna be another scandal, or here before the news is talking about it. 

I’m not complaining. His history of scandals got me to 5k followers for the pure assumption that I was involved in some other secret. 

My mind was moving at 100 miles per hour. It felt like I was on a whole bottle of adderall.  I was going somewhere. At least I remember I was supposed to be somewhere. I’m pretty sure my grandma’s house was where I was going. Right?

“No weapon against you shall prosper mija,” My grandma squeezed my hand “You are stronger than you know,”

“I know. Thank you,” 

I’d got here and we had a 30 minute conversation about my mental health without outright saying anything about mental health. It was just mostly her taking shots at my dad. With the exception of her telling me I was dressed like una furcia. 

“Okay well,” I pushed up off the couch “I just came to bring some clothes and I need to get back anyway,” 

“Get back to where, where are staying?” She asked. 

“Oh you remember MJ right?” I lied. 

“Oh yes, I like that lil’ girl,” 

I went into the guest room to where my sisters were staying. I could hear rustling as I got closer to the room. I flicked on the lights. To see both of my sisters asleep. It was only 10:30 so that was highly unlikely.

“I know you’re not sleep it’s just me,” 

They peeled open their eyes, sitting up. 

“I come bearing gifts,” I announced kneeling down next to the bag. 

I placed the bag on the floor carefully so I wouldn’t hurt Salem.

Sapphire squealed when she saw her. 

“You got Salem? I missed her!” 

“Well actually, I just brought clothes,” I dumped them on the bed “Aaliyah come here?” I asked. 

She hopped down from the bed. 

“All of Sapphire’s clothes are over there but I know we’re like the same size so pick what you want,” I told her. 

She took at least half of what I had but I wasn’t complaining because at least she wasn’t going behind my back and taking them. 

“Okay but like am I really allowed to hate my father like cause,” I tried to move only to immediately lose balance “Shit- but like can I even hate my dad if I do the same shit he does, like maybe, maybe it’s like some contractual blood magic shit and I’m just destined to be a shitty person,” I was sending videos to some group chat I didn’t know who was in it because I couldn’t really read the name I just know Harry was the only one responding. 

“I get it being like your parents is scary but you’re not and I won’t let you be like that, now get some sleep please,” Harry reassured. 

“NO! It’s like,” I struggled to get the sentence out “It’s like crazy because before I existed it like someone fucking planted this, like it- it’s a-,” I hit my forehead on each word as if I could physically knock them out. “It’s a seed in my brain and it’s only going to grow as I get older and I’m just gonna be an asshole, it’s fucking happening already and I-“ Carmen came into the living room I flipped the camera onto her “Say hi!” I slurred. 

“Y/N you okay?” She said making her way over to me. I stopped the video and sent it. 

“I’m fine how are you?” 

“I thought you went to bed,” she ignored my question. 

“I did. Then I couldn’t sleep,” I leaned back onto the couch. She crouched down next to me feeling my forehead.

“You have a fever,” She claimed.

“No I don’t! Why does everyone keep saying that?” I whined. 

“Are you high?” She moved closer to my face. 

“No I’m not fucking high,” 

“You’re slurring your words,” She pointed out moving into the kitchen “What’d you take?” 

“What?”

“I said what’d you take,” She going into one of the cabinets “I know you’re not drunk because you don’t smell like alcohol and you don't smell like weed, so I’ll ask you again,” 

“I didn’t take anything, I'm not high!” I explained. 

“It was Benadryl wasn’t it?” She came back into the living room and handed me a glass of water. “You know that stuff kills people,” 

“Yeah I think I of all people would know that,” Truth is I wasn’t lying. I didn’t take anything. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, maybe sleep deprivation.

“True,” She sat down on the floor next to me “You know how I said I can tell when it’s getting bad,” I nodded. “Well like I was saying before it’s getting bad for you-”

“No it’s not,” I interrupted “I’m literally the happiest I’ve ever been today,” 

“I was getting there,” She held her hands up in an attempt to placate me “That’s just the calm before the storm it’s mania,”

“I’m not manic! Stop trying to psychoanalyze me I’m perfectly fine,” 

I must've woken Salem up because I could hear her footsteps as she paddled over to me and sat in my lap. It’s like she knew when I was getting angry. 

“That’s the thing you’re not fine, just let me know when you’re ready to admit that,” She pushed off the ground using her hands “Try to get some sleep please and thank you,” 

I think it was the weight and warmth of Salem on my chest that finally lulled me to sleep like a weighted blanket. 

“Sapphire!” I yelled to catch her attention “Stop running you’re gonna hurt yourself,” 

She slowed down before making her way back to Aaliyah and the other kids at this birthday party. 

I sat back down on the table’s bench before getting back on my phone. I saw this post one time about how people use technology to distract themselves so they can't have the chance to have a depressive thought. Then I decided to prove that theory wrong so I put my phone up and I thought. 

And boy did I have a lot to think about. The biggest thing on my mind was why. Why did Tony Stark come after me? Why did the guy with the gun come after me? Why did my mom feel the need to make an “Incase I die” video? Why did she have connections to people like Kingpin? Why did she even know Wade? Wasn’t he some science experiment gone wrong? 

Then that got me thinking what if I was a science experiment gone. What if that’s why Tony Stark wanted to experiment on me. What if that was under the orders of someone from SHIELD, because how would he have known about me otherwise. 

Welp, there was only one way to find out. 

“Okay I’m in,” I settled. “What do I have to do?”

“Uh are you sure?” Tony asked.

“Positive,” I affirmed. 

“Well first we would probably do some blood tests and an MRI. Then see where that takes us.” He looked back over at me “Can you do this tomorrow?” 

“Yeah tomorrow works for me,” 

“Great,” He clapped his hands together “I’ll send Happy to pick you up from school,” 

“No it’s fine I can get here myself.” 

“It’s a different location,” He revealed. 

“Okay tell me where it is and I’ll make it there myself,”

“I can’t not even I know where it is,” 

“Fine, I’ll do this, but only if I can bring a friend,” I requested “You know for safety reasons?”

“Safety reasons? Do you not trust me?”

“Not really…” 

“Wow okay, you can bring this friend,” 

“Who doesn’t trust Iron man?'' I heard him mutter to himself as I made my way out of the building. 

I always thought the apocalypse would come in colors. The sky flashing from red to pink to purple to orange. Then there would be a loud sound almost like the Big Bang. Then nothing. I had a vivid imagination when I was younger. 

I guess I was wrong though because it was already here and the sky was as blue as ever.  And the air was as humid as ever in this crusty ass building. 

“I told you already I’m not a soldier you’re gonna have to pay me for this,” I spoke into the comms.

“Shh,” Tony hushed “Just wait for your target.”

Life hadn’t been all that bad. Just for the past two weeks I’d been training with Peter since at the end of the week that I agreed to testing, Spiderman joined in the Avengers officially. Which, good for him I guess. 

Trying to get my brain back on track now. I’d been training with Peter and now we’re going on our first mission. I was not loyal to Tony at all. Nor would I ever be. I’m not calling him Mr. Stark like Peter does either, he doesn’t deserve it. I was trying to look up my mom with the information Felicia gave me and I saw she was listed as level orange in a shield file. Whatever that means.

One thing it meant was I couldn’t back out just yet now.

This would be one deep inside job.

“Peter?” I whispered into the comms

“Hello?” He asked.

“Where are you?” 

“I’m guarding the entrance like I was told too?” He asked more than stated. 

“Well, come here,” 

“But Mr. Stark said-“ 

“I don’t care what Mr. Stark said come here,” I interjected without even thinking about the fact he could’ve been listening in somehow. 

“Yes?” He questioned once he was standing in front of me.

“Take my role for a second,” I pulled my gun out the holster “You know how to use a gun right?”

I thought back to the last time we’d actually fought as our alter egos. Except then he didn’t know it was me and he still doesn’t. He definitely didn’t know how to use a gun then let’s just hope he did now. 

“You know what, I don’t have time just take it,” I placed the gun in his palm before speeding off.

“Wait!” He called out “Aren’t you defenseless now?” 

“I’ll be fine baby boy,” I called back.

I made my way into the farthest depths of the warehouse. I’d been here once before. That was before I knew Felicia and we’d gotten into a scuffle about a diamond. Let’s just say I was young and I went home bruised that day. 

Apparently I was under the impression she had it and she was under the impression I had it this whole time. So maybe. Just maybe it was still there. It was somewhere in the back last time I checked.

 There it was. I grabbed it and recoiled when I heard a voice accompanied by the sharp zap in my body. 

“Looking for something?” They asked. I turned around only to be faced with a large burly almost Frankenstein looking man. 

“Oh yeah I was looking for you actually, you just made my job a lot easier,” 

As if my words were a signal for him. They probably were. He lunged forward towards me with his left side fully open. I evaded and left a sharp kick to his side. 

He wailed out in pain before slinging me backward as I tried to reach for the diamond off the floor. 

I skidded across the floor before hopping back to my feet. 

“I found the guy,” I spoke into the comms.

“Who are you talking to?” The target teased. 

“Your mom,” I taunted. 

“Hey!” He cried. 

“Where are you?” I heard Peter ask I didn’t get a chance to answer because the man swung at me again. 

That hit made contact with my shoulder. He continued to swing and I continued to walk backwards. I realized almost too late that I was backing myself into a corner.

I’m not sure where or who I heard this from maybe Wade but sometimes the only point your opponent has his guard down is mid punch.

 I scrambled for my knife, fingers dancing around the holster on my waist as my feet continued to slide along the pavement underneath me. Just as the man swung at me again I sent my knife towards his torso. Except it didn’t make contact. And I had never missed before, especially not from this close. 

I was confused until I realized it was because I heard that all familiar wet sticky sound of Spider-Man’s web shooters except this time I was glad to hear it. 

Peter webbed the man's arms and mouth all while my fingers went lax in shock for only a moment but one moment too long. 

The knife clattered to the ground making a noise that drew Peter’s attention. I tried to swipe it away with my foot but Peter had already grabbed it. 

“This is Thorns knife,” He spoke calmly and I wasn’t sure if it was directed at me or if it was for himself.

“And how would you have Thorns knife unless you were,” I saw his eyes light up as he made the connection. “Wait, you’re Thorn, holy shit, I’m so stupid how’d I not notice before,”

“Peter seriously you can’t tell anyone,” 

He looked up as if he were just noticing I was still there. 

“Don’t worry I won’t be saying anything at all,” 

Yeah, this was definitely the apocalypse because I don’t know if it was just me but life was ending.

Another silent ride and I realized exactly what he’d meant when he said he wouldn’t say anything. He was giving me the silent treatment. 

Which was odd because usually he talks the most on these rides. After we got over the initial awkwardness of the whole fire and Vulture thing we fell back into the way of things. Well if he was going to play this game I would too because what’s that saying? It takes two to tango. 

Taglist: 

@tomdiddlyumptious​

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #reader x peter parker #Peter Parker x Vigilante!Reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x poc reader #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x bi!reader #peter parker x bisexual!reader #peter parker x villian!reader #spiderman x villian #spiderman x thorn #mcu series #mcu x reader #mcu x y/n #peter parker x y/n #Thorn Series #Thorns prick #peter parker x thorn

[unpack-my-heart]

i am no bird (no net ensnares me)

The first time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, it was a rainy Tuesday afternoon in January and he’d been drunk on a fermenting promise to himself that was becoming slippery. So slippery was this promise that at any moment he feared he’d drop it, and it would splatter on the floor, messy and irrecoverable. He was nineteen years old; old enough to know better but young enough that his hare-brained decisions could be written off as the recklessness of a youth not yet over. When he’d told the others that he was planning to leave, with the phone crackling wildly under the strain of their seven way conversation, they had all whooped loudly, cheering a victory that he hadn’t yet won.

“I knew this would be the year you’d leave, Eds! I could feel it in my dick”

Fucking gross.

After he’d chewed Richie out for being crude, faux-annoyance honeying his words, he’d remained silent for a very long time, listening to the others trip and stumble over each other, babbling about how good emancipation felt, how the air had never tasted as sweet as it had the day they’d left, the day they’d left Derry and never looked back.

He’d planned to leave, had always meant to leave, had gotten as far as idly scrolling through flight schedules late at night, the moon watching him with her soft, sceptical gaze, but something held him back. The invisible red tether that cut deep welts into his heart tightened viciously whenever the thought of leaving fluttered through his brain, butterfly smooth.  His mother tugged on the tether, and reminded Eddie that his wings had been clipped a long time ago.

When Richie left Derry, nearly two years ago, Eddie hadn’t cried. Dry-eyed, face bright and free from tear-tracks, he’d rubbed soothing circles into Richie’s back as Richie cried, great heaving sobs that dampened Eddie’s almost-scratchy jersey sweater. He’d cried on Eddie’s shoulder for eons of time that they didn’t have, until Richie’s phone began to buzz fiercely. Eddie’s eyes remained firmly, petulantly dry. They’d remained dry when Richie told him, in a voice thick with sorrow, that out of all the Losers, out of all the people he’d ever met and even the people he hadn’t, that his Eds was his favourite. Eddie’s eyes remained dry when he watched Richie shove his guitars and the half-broken metal box full of old mixtapes into his half-broken old car that wheezed almost as much as Eddie did. The car sagged under the weight of Richie’s entire life, with no room for Eddie to clamber in, to mould himself around the suitcases. Eddie’s eyes remained dry as he watched Richie drive mouse-slow out of the driveway, and they’d remained dry when Richie shouted out of the window,

“I’ll never forget you, Eds! Not ever! I’ll always remember you and those fucking shorts!”

Those shorts remained folded away in the back of his wardrobe, unworn, unloved, almost-forgotten.

Eddie didn’t leave.

The second time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he was twenty-four years old, and working full time at the pharmacy that he’d spent so many wasted hours in over the years, queueing up dutifully, waiting for the prescription to be filled, jittering from foot to foot, as if the verruca cream piled haphazardly on the shelf to his left would leap at him. He’d hop from foot to foot, wondering whether these pills would stop the bruising of his heart, or the mocking voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his own, “you’re cracked you’re damaged you’re ruined”. So many years and so many sugar pills, enough to turn his stomach and make his teeth itch.

The pharmacy was much the same as it ever was, a stagnant pool suspended in the centre of the roaring sea. Aisles of cough syrup and dandruff shampoo bracketed the counter, and Eddie spent his days drumming his fingers on the counter, each pound of each pad against the dull white surface a declaration, a plea.

“You’re never going to leave if you don’t do it now. Rip the band-aid off, Eds, and stop being such a fucking pussy!”

Richie was right in that very frustrating way that Richie was always, always, right, especially when it came to Eddie and his pathological tendency to self-sabotage himself into oblivion. Rather than cradle his life in both of his hands, a fragile little thing that needed nurturing, Eddie had instead condemned it to a solemn existence of apathy and a pretentious sort of melancholy, all the while staring at the little white pills that he’d taken for so long; the little white pills that took the pain away only until they didn’t anymore, lined up neatly in their piss-coloured plastic bottles on the shelves of the pharmacy.

He’d packed his bags with all the gusto he could manage that evening shoving t-shirts and pressed, crisp chinos into an old, dusty rucksack with wild abandon, until he stopped. He stopped, and stared at the bag, really stared at it, and dropped the sweatshirt he’d been holding to the floor. He hadn’t packed his favourite books, the movie ticket stubs he’d saved from when Richie took hilton see the new Star Wars and Eddie had complained bitterly about how ridiculous it was until he’d annoyed Richie so much that he’d been dragged forcefully from the theatre, and they’d gone for burgers instead. There was no room for his favourite shoes, the sweater with the holes in it that Bev had leant him when he was cold and then given to him because the dull purple made the green in his eyes shine brightly, a freshly cut lawn on a summer morning.

Eddie emptied the contents of the bag onto the floor, and stepped over it. Tomorrow, he assured himself, tomorrow he’d leave. Tomorrow.

Eddie didn’t leave.

The third time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he was thirty-three years old and couldn’t remember why California called his name so loudly, why its siren call echoed across the country, fingers beckoning, seducing. California, a nihilistic melting pot of overworked and underpaid wage slaves who bowed to the corporate bell and submitted themselves to the scrutinizing eye of the Silicon Valley start-ups. That’s what his mother had told him when she’d loomed over his shoulder, pin-ball eyes scanning the screen of his computer. There was nothing there for Eddie, a pharmacist with two degrees under his belt but no actual understanding of how the world worked beyond the safe confines of his small town existence. Highways, supermarkets with more than ten aisles, electric cars, save the turtles, sandals in winter and heatstroke in summer, sweat on your upper lip and tan lines on your knees. California.

His phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Is this Eds? Eds Kaspbrak?”

“Don’t call me that! Uh … Who is this?”

“It’s … Rich. Richie?”

A question, not a statement, as if the caller is asking, is that okay? Is it okay that this is Richie?

“Richie? Richie who?”

A pause that stretches like tar, sticky and black.

“Oh shit!”

Remembrance slammed into Eddie, sucker-punch strong. He remembered a tangled mop of dark brown hair, often flecked with paint. He remembered bucked teeth and freckles that skated across skin like grains of sand tossed up in wind. He remembered the lisp, and the gangly limbs that hung awkwardly, octopus limbs that were too long, too grabby, too energetic.

“Richie fucking Tozier!”

“The very same, Eds. Gotta be honest, I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t pick up, that some housewife would answer all, ‘he doesn’t live here anymore’, but … here you are.”

“Here I am.”

“Still there.”

“Still here,” Eddie confirmed, and his gut trembled with the sort of embarrassment that hung in the air low and heavy, like smoke. Like smog.

“I’m in California,” Richie says eventually, “got a sweet little place on the oceanfront, if you ever … y’know …”

Oh. There it is. The static that had been buzzing around Eddie’s brain when he thought of California, the angry bees that stung him for not remembering finally subdued, finally dropped down dead, because Richie was on the other end of the phone, still lisping, voice a little deeper, a little hoarser, a few too many cigarettes and not enough sleep, perhaps, but he was there, and Eddie had remembered.

“Ocean front, you say?”

The most reckless thing Eddie had done before this was leave the house during a torrential rainstorm with only a showerproof coat, knowing full well that the long fingers of Flu would be tapping at his arms in the morning. Now, here he was, sitting in a tacky sea-food restaurant, pushing prawns around on his plate, with someone he hasn’t seen for over a decade, and he’s drunk. Not too drunk, he can still see without his vision blurring, can still count all of the wrinkles that texture the canvas of Richie’s face, and the freckles. He’s not too drunk to wonder whether these are new freckles, or whether these are the same freckles that he used to stare at when they were lying in the quarry, shirts off and chests to the sky, sunning themselves like heat-starved lizards.

Nevertheless, here he is, Richie Tozier, stuffing paella into his face with one hand and waving wildly in the air with the other as he talks through bites of rice.

“Do you remember when you got kicked out of band?”

Richie groans, wounded.

“Don’t fucking remind me, I was scrubbing the deck for weeks after that old trout rang my mother. Real pissed she was, insisted that trombones are certainly not supposed to be used for such nefarious activities. I still think she shoulda’ been more adventurous”

“I’ll never forget the look on her face, Rich, she was so ready to beat the absolute living shit out of you!” Eddie brayed, stray pieces of pasta escaping his mouth as he spoke, disgusting, but in the dim light of the restaurant, Eddie didn’t care.

The wind whipped at Eddie’s face when they staggered out of the restaurant three hours and ninety dollars later, and Richie grabbed at Edide’s chin roughly.

“You never left, did you?”

“You know I fuckin’ didn’t”

“I shouldn’t have left without you, I never should have left you there.”

Eddie pushed at Richie, gentle enough not to hurt but with enough force that Richie staggered backwards. “It wouldn’t have made a difference. I’ve grown roots, Rich. I’m … I’m stuck there, like one of those plants that hibernates over winter but blooms in summer. I would have dragged you down with me.”

Richie readjusted his grip on Eddie’s chin, and tipped Eddie’s head up. Their eyes met.

“I nearly kissed you when I left, you know.” Richie said. “I really nearly did, got this close, but you looked so …”

“So what?”

“Fine. You looked fine. You didn’t even cry.”

Eddie blinked. “I cried every day for a month after you left. Then every other day for at least six after that. I cried so much my mother sent me to the fucking doctor because she thought I had hysteria.”

Richie barked out a laugh, a sad wet noise that sounded more like a sob. “I left you.”

Eddie pushed his face up, out of Richie’s grip, and pushed his lips against Richie’s trembling ones. The kiss is small, timid and Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shoulder and clung, limpet-like.

It doesn’t last. Richie’s crying too much.

The next day, Eddie leaves.

The fourth time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he leaves, and never looks back.

(this has been sat in my drafts since early March.)

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #it fandom #it fanfic #it 2017 #it 2019 #fanfic #my writing

[ydolanssss]

A hood love story: G.D

Warnings: violence, sexual innuendos, a lot of cursing.

Pairing: Grayson Dolan X female reader.

Summary: bottom line is... remember where tf you came from.

-------------------------------------------------

Friday night lights.....most basic ass idea for a football game.

Just a whole shit-ton of rich ass white kids, acting like they hard when in actuality they have no awareness of anything outside of thier little gated community.

They weren't aware of the situation Grayson was in.

They either villainize him and where he's from, Or they romanticize where he's from. Either way they never talk to him.

They talk to ethan though, because unlike his brother he decided to just forget who he was and where he came from...that including his brother.

But you didn't think like them, you didn't treat people differently because of where they come from, or where they live. So you became friends with gray, best friends, and y'all were together all the time.

"hey gray you tryna go to the game today? You asked leaning on the locker next to his.

"there's a game?"

"yea against the cougars, you wanna go?"

"....mmm" gray never really went to any school event because well...he was kind of a loner, you didn't blame him tho.

"pleeeeeaaaseee, gray can we?" You asked with pleading eyes, and a quivering pouty lip.

"...fine"

"YESSIRRR, let's goo" you shouted, and skipped to class.

You went through the next couple of classes pretty quickly, went home, did some homework and waited for Grayson to come over.

"when you coming over hoe"

"I'm already outside, come on"

You run outside lock the door, hop in the car and head back to the school. The game had already started, but no one had scored yet. You and gray sit on the bleachers, and eat some popcorn.

"who you think finna win?" Gray said shoving food in his mouth. "I don't know, but prolly not our school, they haven't won a game in like...ever."

"true true" gray nodding in agreement untill his phone starts ringing. "Ayo hold up I gotta take this."

"hmm oh okay, I'll stay here" reassuring him. He walks to the back of the bleachers, "yo, wassup?"

*Anonymous* "Ayo when I see you, you getting lit tf up".

"Whoa, what? Who is this?" Gray asked confused as too who was tryna kill him.

"you know who this is lil bruh, it's daymen, oscars brother. You stole some shit from him the other day, and gave it to ya lil rich ass friends."

"what? Rich ass friends? Ion got no rich ass friends."

"okay okay, so you gon lie to me now huh?, Alright look, bring my lil brother his money or you getting lit tf up, and I take ya lil bitch for myself. You know the fine one, wit the braids."

"Don't you fuckin touch her."

Meanwhile you on the bleachers

"bitch what the fuck are you talking about?" Looking at claire and her lil posse.

"you know what I'm talking about, how long you been fucking my boyfriend."

"claire....who's your boyfriend?" You ask genuinely curious, because you do not keep tabs on miss bam-ba-lam-my-cars-a-hundred-grand.

"Grayson is duh." Because apperently that was common knowledge.

"g-grayson, Grayson Dolan the brother of Ethan Dolan, correct, just to make sure, Grayson with a "a" and a "o" not a I or a E. That Grayson?" Ya know...just to be clear.

"yes that Grayson, god are you dense?!"

"Oh no ma'am very much I am not, because the only grayson i know, don't fuck with bitches like you. Oh hell no, cuz yall don't fuck with people like him. And out of the mother fucking blue, he's your man, sweet-pea, i-is that what you telling me?" Because miss ma'am got you fucked alllll the way up.

"oh really how are you gonna tell me who I'm dating, I had sex with and who stole weed for me?" You pause....

"bruh what? Ugh now I know you tripping because Grayson don't fucking smo-"

"Aye, come on! Games boring anyway." Grayson yells from the bottom of the bleachers.

"alrighty well, miss. Thing I don't know what to tell you. Gods speed finding your Grayson because mine don't smoke." You picked up your things and walked with gray back to the car.

"hey what was the call about?" You asked

"huh? Oh it's was just my mom asking how long we were gonna stay at the game, I told her for the next hour so we could go do something else." He said.

You notice he kept looking around a lot, like he's was paranoid, waiting for something to happen.

"gray you good? You keep looking around, what's wrong?" You out ur hand on his shoulder concerned.

"huh?! Ohh nothing nothing let's go, come on"

He drags you to the car, and open the door for you, and he gets in the driver's side and drives off.

"ok I guess, um whatcha wanna do, wanna go to the park, or that on abandoned house that has a perfect view of the sunset, or ice cream, or ice cream and sunset. You looked at him, lip pouting head turn to the side, waiting for answer.

"uhh...ice cream only I wanna get you home okay?" He sighs, hands gripping the wheel tight as hell.

"umm what no I don't wan-"

"No! I have to get you home. I just, I just do, okay? Please I'm sorry for yelling come here." As you two pull in to the ice cream parlor's parking lot.

You lean in and he kisses you on your forehead, " I just need to be safe okay, it's late I don't want you out at night okay?"

"what? What do you mean I'm with you?"

He walks to your side of the car to open the door, "I know but....you cant be around me now at night at least it's not safe." After you get out he walks to the counter and tells you the get a table, you stand puzzled for a bit but you go anyway.

when he gets back with two oreo milkshakes, you ask him, "gray wait why isn't it safe? Why can't I be around you? What going on?." You ask frantic, worried your friend is in some sort of trouble.

"just because you can't don't- who is that?"

He asks leaned down a little.

"who is who? You turn around, and see a car speeding towards you both." Gray grabs your arm and pulls you down.

"GET DOWN! GO RUN BACK TO THE CAR!"

You do, you get to the car get inside and lean down, then you hear gun shots fire.

*bow bow bow bow*

The car skids off and everything is quiet, you look up and you see Grayson laid out on the ground. "oh my god...".

You get out hesitantly walking towards his body, "g-gray...baby, please oh God please no, god don't tell me he's gone" tears streaming down your face, you can't bare to walk any closer, and you drop to your knees and sob.

"no..please not my best friend." As the smoke clears you say this, the sun is setting in the background, it's a somber feeling somehow you feel safe and sad at the same time, while in that same moment your best friend, very much could be breathing his last breaths.

Then, like the miracle baby he is, Grayson wakes up, with a hell of pain in his shoulder. "Wha-? Ohh fuck my shoulder, holy shit, wait where's? Hey, hey, pretty girl why you crying?" He asks litterally sitting up looking at you holding his shoulder.

You stop crying, eyes shoot open. "Wha- GRAY!!" you run over and hug him, crying.

"i-i thought you were dead, *sniff* you were-*sniff* laying there not moving." Say sobbing into his shoulder.

He holds you with his good arm, "shh shh, it's ok, I'm not dead baby, I'm right here, I'm bleeding out of my shoulder and I should probably go to the hospital, but im not dead." His head sitting on top of yours

"oh shit, yea okay let's go." You help him to the car and start driving, you drop him off at the hospital and tell him you're gonna go take care of something.

You get back in your car and drive to a harbor, you then park and start disassembling his gun.

"god...I don't even know why he has this thing, granted he did get shot at but for fucks sake." You mumbled to yourself.

You speed back to the hospital,the doctors tell you he already out of surgery and he's doing fine, and they tell you his room number.

You walk back to his room. "Hey...Grayson baby, you okay?" You whisper not wanting to scare him.

"hmm? Oh yea hey come in." He's sitting up in bed both of his arms in slings. "Can you do me a favors and grab my juice box?"

You look on his tray and there's a little apple juice, juice box on it. "Oh yea sure sweetie." You poke the straw through the hole and hold it up to his mouth.

"Thank you."

"your welcome lovie." The doctor came in. "Ah, I see your already on it, that's good, very sweet of you." You look at him confused.

"um care to explain sir, or am I slow."

He chuckles, "my apologies, um since your friend, I'm assuming has two bad shoulder that have made him unable to move his arms at all he will need around the clock assistance."

You set down the juice box that he basically breathed in. "What do you mean both shoulders I thought he only got shot in one?"

"oh he did but his other shoulder is slightly sprained it's should heal up in a around 2 and a half weeks, while the other shoulder should take at most 4, but normally three. So due to his situation, his arm mobility is hindered untill a later date." He says with his arms crossed over his clip board.

You sit next to gray and look at him, "well I'm down, it's not like we don't spend every single second with each anyway." Gray laughs, "yea I guess thats true."

The doctors clear him and you help him get dressed but since it was late you threw a hoodie on him since there was no use for the sleeves.

You both get in the car and drive to your house, "come on gray we gotta get you to sleep." You tap and rub his tummy to wake him.

You get him up and walk up stairs to your bathroom. "Ok lemme brush your teeth." You sit on the sink and brush for him.

"okay that's done. Um alright it's 2 am ur tired I'm tired we can do the rest tomorrow okay?" You ask Grayson who's barley keeping his eyes open. "Okayyy." He says yawning.

"all right let's go to bed." You walk him over to the side of the bed and help him sit down.

" all right be careful and don't drop all the way down be careful not to lose your- oh fuck!"

You both lost your balance and fell on the bed, your on top of him millimeters away from his face. You never really looked at Grayson that way, never really looked at his eyes, dark as the ocean pulling you deeper and deeper to the point where you don't care if you drown.

Or his lips, they look so soft and smooth, if you were to kiss them it would feel like silk pillows. His lips..."oh fuck his lips."

Grayson catches your eyes staring at his lips and he sits up. "My lips baby, hmm that what you want?" You both sitting up on the bed. "Where? Your neck, cheek?" He drags his nose up the side of your neck to your ear.

"or that pretty little pussy?"

You gasp and get up off of him. "Um okay time to go to bed for real this time. Uh you good? you okay? Need any thing?"

"uh nah, nah I'm good. I guess...I'm laying flat then?" You turn to look at him.

"um yea I think that would be best."

You both start to relax and go to sleep.

"hey gray? I gotta ask you something, you know what's up with clair because she came up to me claiming I'm fucking her boyfriend, who's apperently you and also you stole some weed for her and that just dosent make sense to me."

He jerks his head to look at you "wait what!? When?"

"when you left to answer the phone she said your her boyfriend and she would know the person's she's been fucking and the guy who stole weed for her."

"so that's why- ughh fucking ethan."

"what? What about him? And what was that phone call about?"

He sighed "okay so I got a phone call from this guy named daemin, and I guess he thinks I stole weed from his little brother oscar, and I guess he's been watching me or something he said if I don't get his money he'll light my ass up and he'd go for my lil bitch himself, the one with the braids."

"oh shit so it was Ethan who stole the weed and prolly gave that guy your number, and prolly claimed he was you...now what the fuck wrong with claire?"

"Claire don't know that theres two of us and she don't talk to people he's friends with so he probably lied to her to."

Laying there in shock you think to yourself. "What kinda fucked up shit you got going on to lie about your whole identity and pretend to be your twin brother that you treat like shit?"

"ion know ask him."

You said it outloud.... again. "Oh shit my bad. But I will actually."

"what? No don't-"

"no gray this shit is crazy. YOU GOT SHOT! I'm not gonna let him get away with that shit gray! Now go to bed."

He sighs and closes his eyes.

——————————————————————

Next morning comes around. You wake up early to make grays' breakfast. A protein shake with some greek yogurt mixed with fruit.

You go back upstairs and he's awake.

"hey boo sorry to keep you waiting. I was making your breakfast. Need help?"

"yeth please."

"okay silly, sit up, legs out, and stand up on three okay? One, two, three...theeeere we go."

You walk over to the bathroom. Brush his teeth, wash his face and...help him pee.

"okay so how do you wanna do this gray?"

"umm you could hold it? If you wanna."

"seriously grayson. But that's like-"

"look your gonna have to bathe me at one point within these three weeks so like might as well get used to it."

"mm true, gosh okay."

You pull his pants down quickly trying to get this over with as soon as possible.

"okay so do I just like h-hold it or something? Or like do I just let it hang there?"

"no no you got to hold it bro otherwise I'll piss on myself then you have to change my pants and my underwear and wipe my legs down."

"ewww... Okay okay I guess this is better. Um sorry if my hands are cold."

"your all good."

"speaking of shower, let's just get that out the way because you haven't showered in a brick."

He sighs "alright"

You help him get his clothes off and turn on the shower.

"alright hop in big dic- oop- I mean big head." You giggle to yourself.

"ouu ok baby, oh and just for pure curiosity, which head?"

You slowly turn to him. "The one that made you think of that dumbass question, goofy get in, naughty ass."

"okay! Okay! Shit you the naughty one." Said with a smirk followed by a failed and painful attempt to slap your ass.

"ow! Ow! Fuck my shoulder!"

"and that's what ya get, hop in." You say giving him a pinch on the ass.

"what a nice butt, good for you!"

"thank you queen." He smiles

"your welcome king." And proceed to bathe him

-------------------------------------------------

A couple hours later you left Grayson at home with him and a tv and left out all the snacks on the counter at a reachable level, whole you went out and....handle some business.

On the phone: "hey, meet me at the bleachers okay I need to talk to you about something."

"uh yea sure I'll be there."

A couple hours later, your sitting on the bleachers with the cold New Jersey air, causing your nose to become ice cold.

"hey." You jumped.

"oh shit! Oh hey sorry you scared me."

"ha, yea um sorry about that, so what did you wanna talk about?"

Now to most that seems like a very obvious question, it'd go something like 'hey why the fuck did you lie about your identity and completely drop your twin fucking brother'. Right? No.

The problem is you and Ethan have history, which also adds to the reason why your a lot closer to gray than Ethan and was like the breaking point of Ethan and Grayson relationship.

Basically in freshman year of highschool you and Ethan....dated?? Well no you did date but...it was shorted lived because he decided to cheat...on you. Crazy right? I know. And you'll never guess who he cheated on you with.....Claire!!! Isn't that amazing, what a coincidence.

So the day you found out was kinda intense.....

"What is wrong with you!"

"Why would you do that to her!"

"As long as we've know her!"

"Huh Ethan! What's the matter with you! Who raised you! It wasn't ma! I most definitely wasn't dad!"

Grayson being the lovely, kind, understanding soul that he is decided to give Ethan a piece of his mind after consoling you in the living room.

"Jesus Grayson! It wasn't even that bad!"

With his hands on his hips, mouth ajar and eyes bugging out of his head.

"you've gotta be shitting me. You made out with the bitch ON SNAPCHAT! THEY GOT YOU IN 4K BRO! What do you mean it isn't that bad!"

"look why does it bother you so much? Like it's not your relationship. It's mine."

"Because your my brother and I love you and I love her to, I want her to be loved and appreciated the way she deserves, and I expected better from you, I never thought, my brother, a fucking scumbag of a man. Had the audacity to cheat on his girl. I guess I stand fucking corrected."

They sit in silence for a while. Your in the living room nervous because you've seen them fight of course but, never this heated.

"well if you love so damn much you be with her, I don't fucking want her if there's gonna be this much drama."

Time for you to get angry.

"First of all motherfucker you cheated! Don't you fucking switch this around on me."

Grayson stands in front of you, tear filling your eyes by the gallons.

"I fuckin loved you....so much, so hard...I did. And this what you fucking do...this the last time I love someone as much as I loved you."

And with that you stormed out. Grayson followed disgusted with his brother.

--------

"....so what did you wanna talk about."

You snap back into reality.

"umm well one your fucking brother was shot!"

He jumps back. "What?! Was he really? When by who?"

"a few days ago. most likely by a guy named oscar...who shot him because apparently, Grayson 'sober4L' Dolan™, stole weed from him. Now the only people in this damn highschool that smoke are those rich ass kids you hang out with, and gray got a phone call about this whole situation and claimed that if he didn't get his money or the weed back, he was gonna shoot up him and take his lil girlfriend, 'the one with the braids'."

He rocks back and forth anxiously, knowing he was caught.

"and of course the only girl he's around with braids is me."

"okay look i-"

"Aht aht wait, I'm not done."

"because at the same time grayson was on the phone I had and interaction with the lovely ms.claire. She claimed I was 'fucking her boyfriend' and I asked who and she said 'grayson the one who stole weed for me'."

He puts his head in his hands.

"so now I'm looking at her like she dumb because we both know Grayson dosent smoke, so a couple hours later I ask grayson about the situation and then he tells me about the phone call, so we put two and two together."

"so gray got a call from someone claiming he stole thier weed, claire your lovely girlfriend enlightened me on the fact that I was sleeping with her boyfriend, who stole weed for her. Knowing Grayson is neither dating her or smokes. So who on earth, could have Grayson's number, steal Grayson name and identity and create a whole new fucking life. Oh hmm let's start with the fuck-amato who made the fuck sure no one knew he was a twin and also dates the girl that my ex boyfriend cheated on me with...who just so happens to be the fucking twin. what do you have to say for yourself?"

There is a pause between you and him.

"umm....I'm sorry."

"y-your sorry....SORRY YA BROTHER GOT SHOT AND ITS ALL YOUR- you know what here what we're gonna do."

You pull out your phone and you had saved daemin's number.

"you are gonna call oscar and tell him the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and tell him you'll get his lil cousin his money back okay?" Because if not I will..."

"okay, okay, call him."

You call and the phone starts ringing. He picks up.

"hello?"

"hey daemin I have the actual guy you wanted to shoot at and damn near kill"

"word? Who is it then?"

"his twin brother."

"ohhhh shit. Aw damn aye is gray good man I feel like shit he didn't deserve this."

"he's fine but his brother ethan, on the other hand is the guy you should've got, but look since I don't want both of them shot the fuck up he is gonna over there and hand you the money okay?"

"shit alright"

You end the phone call and he sends you the address.

"alright let's go."

-------------------------------------------------

You and Ethan pull up to daemin's house.

"look when we get in here don't say shit give him the fckn money and don't say shit."

"alright alright"

You walk towards the door and knock on it. It's opens and there stands a guy around Ethan's height.

"um hi are you daemin?"

"yea that me, you got my money?"

"oh yea we do, Ethan give it to him"

He pulls 85 dollars out of his pocket

"here you go man, um sorry for-"

The door slammed in our faces.

"umm I guess that it-"

"how's Graysons shoulder?"

"oh it's good it's getting better I gotta get back to him though, he can't do everything by himself."

"alright cool I just wanted to make sure, does he need anything like I got bandages and a first aid."

"oh no no its fine my mom's a nurse I got all the stuff I need thank you though."

"alright bye drive safe"

"okay thank you!"

You and Ethan get back to the car.

Ethan turns to you. "Um he's nicer than expected."

"yea...um okay, I'm gonna take you back home. "

"yup okay sounds cool. "

The drive to Ethan's was awkward and quiet. He still stayed at him and Graysons childhood home. You haven't been there in years.

"well here we are. God it still looks the same."

"yea hasn't changed since the last time you've been here."

You turn to look at him.

"alrighty well- mphm"

Ethan kisses you holding the side of your face.

"I miss you. I do. I'm so fucking sorry for hurting you. You didn't deserve that, I took you for granted. Please give me another chance."

Your in shock to say the least. Staring at him in disbelief.

"...no Ethan."

"what? What do you mean?!"

"I mean no, I'm not going to go back to you I don't feel that way about you. And honestly once a cheater always a cheater, I just can't give myself back to the same person that changed me emotionally, to where it's hard for me to love people as much as I used to. Like what you do if I cheated on you, would you come back to me? And be honest with yourself."

He moves his hand.

"...no"

"exactly...so don't expect me to be the same. Goodbye Ethan."

He gets out and goes inside and you drive back to your place.

-------------------------------------------------

You come back home Grayson in the living room, on the couch.

You sit next to him and talk to him about what happened, he was worried and frustrated at first with the fact that you went but understood it was your life at risk to. A couple of weeks pass, Graysons wound is fixed and you guys are let out for winter break.

Spending time with Grayson made you realize, what you deserved in a relationship, the love, appreciation, affection, loyalty. All of it, you deserved it.

And you got it, you and Graysons infatuation with one another, grew bigger and bigger over winter break. The Christmas vibes, sleeping in onesies and making cookies. Making love next to the fire place, trails of kisses going down both his and your body.

Afterwords..."hey Grayson? Can I ask you something."

"of course beautiful what is it?"

"how would you feel if we went back to school, ya know together?"

"when were we going separately?"

"nooo silly like together, a thing, an "item". We go back in a relationship. If that's something you want?"

"Are fucking joking! Of course I would baby. God, I've been waiting." And with that you finally found the love of your life, whom which in the future you had your two twin daughters with. Inez and Felicity.

You've never been so content.

#gray #grayson dolan #grayson and ethan #grayson #love story #ethan dolan #bw #dolan twins

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

Soosly - Week 4 - Family

This monster took forever but I finally got the @soosly week 4 prompt done. Uh... this one needs a content warning so CW Death Mention (its not a major character though don’t worry)

-----

“Anyone seen Soos? I gotta discuss a new display with him.” Stan pushed his way into the giftshop, balancing a box of half-finished taxidermy parts on one arm and trying to hold open the door with the other.

Melody looked up from the register with a frown, hands paused on her end of day count. “I thought maybe you'd pass him on the way in. He went to check the mail a little while ago but hasn't come back yet.”

“Huh.” Stan set down his box on the counter and cracked his back with a grimace. “I didn't see him by the mailbox but we might'a passed each other.”

Melody's frown deepened. “Seems unlikely. Try the back porch if you don't see him near the mailbox. He likes to grab a Pitt and sit on the couch sometimes.”

“Ain't that familiar,” laughed Stan. He nodded thanks to Melody before tucking his hands in his pockets and wandering back outside.

Soos certainly wasn't at the mailbox, or anywhere visible from the gift shop steps either. Stan frowned and thumped down the steps and around to the back of the house. He relaxed for a brief moment as Soos's familiar form came into view, sitting not on the couch but on the steps, shoulders shaking... Stan's blood ran cold and he swore as he saw Soos lift a hand to scrub at his face.

It took every ounce of self-control he had not to sprint across the backyard. Instead he opted for a more casual yet still purposeful stride, scuffing his feet when he got within earshot so he didn't startle the poor kid when he eased down onto the steps next to him. Soos barely looked over, which was a bad sign, and stared sightlessly across the scrubby late summer grass towards the woods with eyes red-rimmed from crying, which was an even worse sign.

“Hey, gumdrop,” said Stan gently after a long moment of silence punctuated only by a quiet sniffle. He hadn't used the nickname in a while but it was all he could think of in the moment. He didn't expect Soos to full-body flinch at being addressed and cut off the are you okay? that Stan had been about to follow up with by holding out what looked like a letter.

“What is this?” Stan asked, and took the paper from Soos when he merely shook the paper. It may have been just his hand shaking, the way his shoulders trembled. “You want me to read it?” Soos nodded, and Stan saw his eyes welling with more tears before he looked away again.

“Jesus,” read Stan, and he had to suppress a snort because honestly, when was the last time anyone had called Soos by his legal first name?

“I've started this letter a hundred times and every formal introduction seems callous, given the circumstances. I wish that we were being introduced in more pleasant times, but you deserve to know the truth. You have two half-sisters in New Orleans.

“Until last week, when your wedding invitation arrived, my sister and I were unaware we had a brother. We suspect that any mail from you was intercepted by our father to prevent us from finding out he had other family. Unfortunately, that brings me to the heart of the matter.

“Dad passed away a month ago. I've included a copy of the obituary if you wanted the information for family records. I wish... I wish we had known sooner, so that we could have told you. [several lines here were covered in a thick line of whiteout and written over again] I did some digging in Dad's office and, if it is any consolation, he kept every letter you sent. They were in the locked drawer of his filing cabinet, but he did keep them.

“I understand if you want nothing to do with us, but if you ever want to reach out I included my email and phone number. Even though I don't know you yet, it is nice knowing that somewhere in Oregon I have an older brother.

“I am truly sorry you had to find out like this.

“Sincerely, Sandy Oaks”

Wordlessly, Stan picked up the crumpled envelope from where it had fluttered to the ground and pulled out a newspaper clipping. The image of a bland white-bread man stared back at him and Stan folded the picture over so he wouldn't have to stare him in the face as he read.

“Harold Greene, aged 58, passed away peacefully surrounded by family last week. He is survived by his two daughters and 2 grandchildren. All who knew Mr. Oak remember him fondly as a hard-working family man...” Stan stopped reading, rage flickering red at the edges of his vision. Family Man? The man who walked out and never visited his son? The man who Sophie Ramirez would threaten to hunt down and maim if you got more than one drink in her? That man, a family man?

Stan sat seething, unable to put into words exactly what he was feeling. He mechanically folded the letter and newspaper clipping, sliding them back into the envelope with a stony expression. Another miserable sniff came from the stoop beside him and he carefully wrapped an arm around Soos's shoulders.

“I'm sorry, Soos.” Stan said quietly and that was really all it took. With a choked off exhale Soos turned and wrapped his arms around Stan, face buried against his shoulder, great wracking sobs shuddering through his body. Stan froze for all of a second before he pulled Soos tight into a hug, one large hand rubbing soothing circles across his back.

“I... I never even met him,” Soos managed to say between wet gasps for air. “I didn't have the chance, and... and now he's gone. I knew his address, I... I could've gone down to see him but it... I waited too long. I waited too long and now I'll never get to... to...” he trailed off in a hicupping swallow, shoulders tense and shaking.

There were a lot of things Stan wanted to say in the moment. He'd harbored a deep, intense anger at the man for many years. He resented how one man could have such a negative impact on such a cheerful, well-meaning soul. He'd never thought he could dislike a man just as much as his own father, but apparently some deadbeat asshole named Harold fucking Greene was neck in neck for that contest. Stan couldn't say any of that in that moment, with Soos' fingers white-knuckling fistfuls of his t-shirt and tears soaking through to his shoulder. Instead he sighed and tightened his arms around the young man, letting long moments pass as he gathered his thoughts.

“I'd like to say the grief will pass, son,” said Stan after a while, not quite aware of his own words as he thought back to his own lonely mourning when Filbrick passed away. The man had been horrible, sure, but he'd still been his father. “It might be a while before you really come to terms with it and...” he stopped, concerned as Soos suddenly froze against his shoulder and then let out a single wheezing laugh. “Uh, you ok there?”

“I...” Soos sat back, cheeks blotchy with tears but a shaky smile breaking across his face. “Here I am crying about a guy I never even met when...” he swallowed and looked down at his own hands as he clenched and unclenched them in his lap. His next words were a whisper Stan had to strain to hear. “When you were really all the father figure I really needed.”

Aw hell.

Stan felt his own eyes start burning and as he blinked a single hot trail wound its way from his eye and settled in the crease of his nose. “For fuck's sake, Soos. Warn a man before you attempt to murder him.” The words came out strangled, and Soos's gaze snapped over to meet his. They held eye contact for mere seconds before they both broke out in somewhat hysterical laughter, arms slung over each others shoulders more for support than anything else.

“I was saving it for a wedding present but I might as well tell you now,” said Stan once they both calmed down enough for words to make sense. “First of all, kid... you really have to read what people hand you to sign. Even if it's me. Actually, especially if it's me.”

“What?”

“Remember those papers I had you sign a few weeks ago that I said were some legal bullshit for the shack since Ford and I had to sort out the 'not being dead' thing? They had nothing to do with the shack.” It was Stan's turn to look sightlessly into the treeline as his heartbeat seemed loud enough to shake the stoop. “They were adoption papers. Turns out all you need to adopt an adult in Oregon is the adult's consent.”

There was complete silence from Stan's left side and he swallowed hard. “I haven't filed them yet, it was a pretty major invasion of privacy and...” His apology cut off abruptly as Soos nearly bowled him over in another hug.

“DO YOU MEAN IT, MR PINES??” The yelling was right in his ear but Stan couldn't bring himself to care.

“Of course I mean it, gumdrop. Why the fuck wouldn't I mean it? I had to go talk to a lawyer and everything!” He made a token struggle against Soos' very tight grip before chuckling and hugging him back. “And if you call me, your father, 'Mr. Pines' one more time, I'm going to have some words for you, young man.” The threat was empty and they both laughed a little damply.

“Thanks, Dad.” Soos leaned heavily on Stan's shoulder and Stan pressed a whiskery kiss to the top of his head.

“You're welcome, Son.”

#gravity falls #soosly #soosly 2020 #soos ramirez #Stanley Pines #found family

[loreparable-writes]

The Thieves’ Aerie

How were you supposed to know that by helping this poor fool who got himself cut up in a bar fight was going to open the door to the city's underbelly? You are only trying to survive in this rat hole but somehow you have managed to become a nurse for worst the city has to offer. Hopefully the two men who have inserted themselves into your life can keep you from getting killed or worse... A Reader/Hawks, Reader/ Thief Takami What if? fic.

---   

Chapter 1 

One Good Deed 

It’s two in the morning and life finds you nursing a lukewarm coffee while sitting at your desk in the clinic. When you started school to become a nurse, sitting alone in a twenty four hour medical center was not what you pictured your life to be.  Go get a medical degree y/n, you’ll be able to work with heroes she said. Maybe find a nice doctor to settle down with she said, hate to break it to you Mom but you are full of shit.

Though in hindsight, the only reason you are currently here is because you picked up the on call shift from a coworker with a sick kid.  Let’s see I can’t just sit here and stare into the abyss until seven am so what can I do instead?… records have been organized and patient charts for tomorrow have been pulled, exam rooms have been cleaned, has anyone gone over inventory recently? You pause for a moment trying to go through dates in your head before ultimately deciding that's what you are going to do to pass the time.

The room where the medical supplies are kept sits towards the back of the clinic and out of sight from the main desk. Just to be on the safe side you bring the clinic phone along so that you don’t miss anyone in need of help.  The next half hour is spent hauling supplies from the back room into the exam rooms. You are forced to stop for a bit when a concerned man calls in with questions about their nephew possibly manifesting his quirk but you were able to provide him with the correct phone number for quirk services. There are enough cotton squares and bandages to get us through the week but I should have it added to the order… we also need more- The subtle click of a door opening sounded so loud in the empty quiet of the clinic and the pained groan that followed instantly had you on alert. Peeking around the edge of the door frame reveals nothing in the hallway for now. You nearly jump out of your skin when a crash shatters the quiet again.

“Where the fuck do they keep it? I don't need much…” From what little information you have gleaned from the current situation, someone in pain has snuck into a twenty four hour clinic… which probably means they are either a druggie looking for a fix or someone from underground.

“Oh I am soo going to regret doing this…” you whispered into the empty air but you are hoping that because there is none of the noise that is usually associated with addicts attempting to rob the place, the person currently in the exam room is someone who can be reasoned with.  As you make your way out of the supply room and into the hall, making sure that your steps are loud, you can hear more of the pained noises.

“Hello? My name is Keele, I’m a nurse for this clinic. Do you need help?”  Everything went dead quiet the moment you called out. Ok this is no different than dealing with a difficult patient, just be prepared to dodge if needed… The door to exam room two sat half closed and with a deep breath to steady your nerves, you knocked twice on the doorframe before pushing the door open.  You are immediately greeted with several crimson knives floating a half inch over all of your vital areas. Though by looking a little more closely at the one pointed towards your face, you realize the knives are actually feathers. Slowly raising your hands up in a show of surrender you tried to explain yourself once more.

“My name is Keele and I am a licensed nurse for this clinic. We are open for service twenty four hours a day which is why I’m here at this time.” You could hear the person behind you snort in disbelief.

“Are you the only one here right now?” he growled

“Yes, Doc is on call during the night shifts.” you allowed your eyes to roam what little you could see of the room taking note of the splatters of blood along the floor and cabinet. “We don't need to call him in depending on what you have going on over there…” Your attempt at turning your head to look at him is met with the feathers pressing closer to you, the sharp edges barely a breath away from your skin.

“Ok! Ok! I’ll stop trying to move. Tell me what you need and I’ll help you find it... unless its the hard stuff… I don't have access to the safe.”

“I need supplies for stitches and bandages…” His breathing is growing more ragged and you can now see even the feathers are starting to tremble with the strain of him trying to play tough. Whoever this is can barely hold it together, he isn't going to be able to take care of himself properly once I give him those items. Time to be the no nonsense nurse and hope it doesn't get me killed.

“Suture kit is in the second drawer and bandaging materials are in the cabinet above. Though frankly I don’t think it's going to be much help to you. Judging from the blood splashed around my exam room and your heavy breathing, you are about to collapse aren't you?” The snarl behind you is borderline animalistic.

“Are you brave or just stupid? Either way it's not going to stop me from killing you once I have what I need.”

“You won’t kill me” despite the situation, your voice is calm and firm. “Killing me serves no purpose other than satisfying whatever primal urge you are feeling right now. Here’s my offer, let me patch you up and get you on your way with antibiotics and pain relievers. In return I don't tell my boss that you attempted to rob us, threatened my life, and made a mess of the clinic. Then as a bonus for your wonderful personality, you may call on me anytime to patch you up when you find yourself on the wrong end of a smashed bottle again.” Mystery man snorts once, twice, before dissolving into full on laughter that ends abruptly with a rather pained ow .

“You know what Kid? I like you~ It’s a deal, just don’t try to fuck me over, it won’t end well for either of us.” When the feathers threatening your life flick away you heave a huge sigh of relief.

“How bad is the wound and where is it located?” Despite the stressful introduction you are all business at this point. Expertly pulling the needed supplies from their resting places and setting them up on the nearby rolling tray for use. You are pulling lidocaine into a separate syringe for use as you turn around from the counter to get a look at him. Oh Shit! Well thank god for learning how to control your facial responses. Nursing school was good for that at least.

Hawks Takami is bleeding in your exam room, sure the news has been on and on about the father-son pair hitting homes and businesses and robbing them blind. But you never expected to see the son in this dirty forgotten corner of the city. Though this close you can see how he gained the moniker of “Hawks”. Besides the bright gold of his eyes and the unique black markings surrounding them, there are hints of blonde feather down framing his face along the hairline and temples. His hair is short in length but despite the fact that it is clear this man has not had a shower recently has a distinct “fluffy” appearance. Pair that with the full crimson wing plumage, thick black talons, and scars across the bridge of his nose and along his cheekbone, he looks like something out of a nature documentary.

“You’re staring”

“I’m trying to figure out where you are bleeding from since you haven't been so kind as to show me. Despite me putting on my best nurse persona for you.” It's a half truth, but he doesn't need to know that.  Groaning in pain he manages to maneuver the edge of the bloody, worn Endeavour hoodie up towards his chin to expose the wound that has been slashed across the edge of his stomach and up his ribs.

“How the fuck are you still standing?! Get that thing off now!” As he fights with the piece of clothing you are adjusting the exam table into a position where he can lie down completely in order to give you full access to the wound. Despite stiffening at your touch, he allows you to support him as he lays down on his uninjured side and adjusts his wings to drape behind him. As you roll the latex gloves over your freshly washed hands, you kick a rolling stool in the general direction of the table and drag your tray along to follow.  

“You are extremely lucky, this could be so much worse than it is.” The wound itself doesn't go too deep, the part that clipped the edge of his abdomen did not break through into the body cavity. Nor did it make it down to the bone where it trails over his ribs.  

“What can I say? I’ve always.. gnk.. been a fortunate bastard. Shit! What the hell are .. gah.. you doing?!”

“Cleaning off all the grime. Give me a minute I’ll numb you with the lidocaine before I start stabbing you.”

“Ha what ever happened to your gentle hands nurse? I thought you were supposed to take my pain away.”

“Gentle went out the window the moment you threatened me and when I recognized who exactly is now laying on my exam table. Now I’m just a little irritated that it's going to take me forever to nail all my belongings down to the floorboards in my apartment because I invited a known thief to bother me whenever he pleases.” He stays mostly silent throughout the procedure aside from a couple of hisses as you inject the numbing agent. You have already placed a handful of stitches into his skin before the silence becomes too oppressive.

“Mind telling me how this happened?”

“How were you able to tell I was slashed by a broken bottle?” You level him with a flat look that has him shifting on the table in discomfort.

“When you have worked in this area for as long as I have you pick up on patterns. Try not to move too much, you’ll tear the stitches before I’m done.” You place a steadying hand across the curve of his hip to get him to settle before continuing to sew the wound up. “I can tell who has been in a bar fight, warning shots, and stupid quirk rivalry battles. Then there are those who I refer to as being Underground. You're not the first to cross my table with those connections but I do need to warn you there are undercover heroes and vigilantes that come here often. They have helped the clinic in the past so we look the other way. That offer is being extended to you as well so long as you keep your troubles far away from the clinic while you are in it, that is the only rule.”   You are finishing up the last few stitches when he speaks up again.

“Some guy at the bar I was relaxing at didn't like the fact I was talking to his woman and that she was enjoying it. Came charging over mad as hell, I was willing to take the blame for it and enjoy a bit of a fist fight, but instead he started hitting her right in front of me. I just reacted, threw the guy halfway across the bar, it was his friend that came in from the side and cut me up like this. The bouncer got involved at that point and kicked everyone out, pointed me towards this place to get help.” You’ve finished stitching him up and have already taped the bandages over the sutures to protect them.

“The bouncer who helped you was probably Hiro, he is a good guy. Try to keep your head down for a little bit or at least until the stitches can come out. Those drunks tend to keep grudges and will not hesitate to take you out for good.” Hawks gingerly maneuvers himself up into a sitting position as you take one final look at your work. Eyeing the dirty hoodie thrown onto the floor with contempt, that is not going anywhere near my sutures.

“Follow me, I need to get you some antibiotics and a clean shirt.”

“What's wrong with my hoodie?” he whines

“It's filthy and those sutures need to stay clean and dry. We keep spare clothes on hand so we should have something I can modify for you.” He follows you carefully back into the supply room completely soundless despite the massive wings on display.

“What is your shirt size usually?” you ask as you rummage through the selection of grey cotton shirts the clinic keeps on hand for these situations.

“Whatever I find that fits honestly.” He shrugs as you regard him in disbelief, taking a critical review of his body type and shape you pull out the size you think will work best.

“Give me a moment to find some scissors and I can cu-” RIP      

“No need~” he chirps as one of his feathers makes two neat cuts in the back of the shirt with practiced ease.

“The bandages need to stay on for at least two days, you can wash around the wound with mild soap and CLEAN water but do not get the sutures wet.” You pause to hand him the medications and a wound care pamphlet “as for the antibiotics, take two tablets tonight and then one once a day until gone. The stitches can be removed after ten days.” As he pulls on the new shirt you quickly step back into the exam room to pick up the sad hoodie from the floor and offer it back to Hawks in the hallway.  

“I hear cold water and hydrogen peroxide are helpful in getting bloodstains out of fabric.”

“It's not the first time this old thing has been soaked in it, I’ll figure something out.” The two of you pause by the back door, you are waiting to see if there is anything else he needs before diving back into the wilds of the city, he on the other hand seems reluctant to leave.

“I did say you could come bother me whenever you needed help…” He turns to you with an odd look in his eyes before seemingly coming to a decision on something. You watch as the hardened persona he projects slides back into place, he gives you a curt nod as thanks before disappearing into the night once more. You think you hear the rustle of wings but turn back into the heart of the clinic and lock the door behind you.

Seven am and Kanna finds you at the front desk getting things set up for the day. The scent of fresh brewed coffee floats from the break room but it fails to hide the scent of the heavy duty cleaner that they use to clean up body fluids.

“Have an interesting shift last night?” she asked as she placed the small paper bag with your favorite muffin inside next to you.

“Hiro sent over another victim of the bar scene, they needed stitches but nothing too crazy. Oh my god this is still warm~”

“Go enjoy your breakfast in the break room. I can get things started up here on my own. I’m pretty sure Dr. Maeda will send you home once they get here in the next fifteen minutes or so. Get a cat nap in so you can make it home safely.” With a mock salute in her direction you scurry off to enjoy the morning peace with a warm breakfast and fresh coffee.

Eight thirty am has you walking up the street to your apartment saying hello to the neighbors who are heading off to work as you are coming home. The hush that falls after the morning commuters have gone is a unique one that often has you standing just outside your door to enjoy it for a moment. You close your eyes to enjoy the warmth of the sun and violently startle when you are shoved into your front door and a loud bang resonates from beside your head. As your eyes snap open you all you can see is a wide, fanged grin and brilliant gold eyes.

“Hey Kid, we forgot to exchange our phone numbers…”

#tw: drugs #tw: alcohol #tw: injury #bnha spoilers #tw: assault #reader x hawks #reader x thief Takami #reader insert #bnha mha #independent reader #tw: medical #bird instincts #born from a discord chat #not canon #grey morality #reader is not helpless #hawks bnha

[voldemorthatesnose96]

RETROUVAILLES

(The final part)

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Big thanks to @dreamy-slytherin for making a drawing for this fic❤️❤️❤️

 Earthlingoddity :

Do you need me to pick you up at the bus stop?

Sterkerdanijzer :

Sander, for a THOUSAND times since yesterday evening, I’m fine LOL! Really, don’t worry too much, please😌

Earthlingoddity :

You sure?

Sterkerdanijzer :

If you asks that again, the deal’s off

Earthlingoddity :

OK OK OK! I’ll shut up now. Careful on your way. Been preparing some croques for you

Sterkerdanijzer :

You’re the best!

Btw...

Uh-oh.

Is he gonna back out now? Is something happen? Did he say something wrong just now?

Sander tries to calm his breath as he types.

Earthlingoddity :

Yes, Robbe?

Sterkerdanijzer :

Do you mind if I bring Peter Pan along again?🥺he’s gonna be good. Pinky promise!

Sander lets out a very relief breath. Why does Robbe always makes him feel on edge, though? He really have it bad.

Earthlingoddity :

Jesus, you scared me for a sec right there. Of course you can

Sterkerdanijzer :

You really are THE BEST, Mr Driesen. See you in 15 mins!!

It takes five minutes for Sander to finally comes back to reality when Robbe called him Mr Driesen. Okay, he’s been calling that many times by many people BUT it feels much different when Robbe did it. Somehow Sander can hear Robbe’s voice through his phone saying that, and... God, he doesn’t know what to think anymore. What a blessing that no human can hear each other’s thoughts; because sure as hell, Robbe will run away once he knows about Sander’s inner thought.

Yesterday, Sander insisted to pick Robbe at his flat because it’s a bit far but Robbe always declined—said that distance never really matters to him whatsoever. Maybe Sander was being overreacted but he already feels protective of this cute yet unpredictable guy, and definitely not the same feeling like he’s being protective of a friend. Yeah, maybe he should tone it down a bit. Robbe’s not a kid, he’s capable of taking care of himself.

Trying to distract himself, Sander is now standing in front of the kitchen counter, staring at the croque he just made few minutes before he sent the text to Robbe. For today, he needs to impress Robbe—from his dish to this safe haven. Sander woke up at five in the morning today after doing a morning yoga routine to calm himself from the nervousness and then tidying his half-messy flat.

“Croques, don’t let me down,” Sander pleads as he lifts the plate. “don’t let my crush down. Please!”

He almost drops the plate when he hears a knock on his door.

Shit!

Okay this is it!

Sander is half-running to the door, taking a deep breath before he holds the knob and opens it. The first thing he sees is Peter Pan excited face; he’s too excited so he literally jumps into Sander’s arms and licks his face.

“Sorry,” Robbe laughs but his tone is definitely not sorry. “he’s being so impatient to meet you.”

“No...” Sander replies in between Peter Pan’s kisses. “problem... at all.”

“Is this the croque you were talking about earlier?”

“Yep!” Sander answers as he puts Peter Pan down, watching his tail shaking left and right and a minute later he’s already out of sight to explore the place.

“Looks good,” Robbe smiles at Sander and the world stops for a second—or at least it feels like for Sander. “can I eat them now? I’m starving.”

Sander clears his throat and force a laugh, “Sure, but I won’t be responsible if you suddenly get a stomachache.”

“I’ll take that risk for you.”

Sander raises his eyebrow. His feet unknowingly takes a step closer—close enough for his hand to graze Robbe’s, but he can’t do it. Yet. So instead, he says, “don’t say something like that.”

Sander thought Robbe will back out, but to his surprise and excitement, he smiles mischievously and says, “or what?”

Sander smirks, “Or I’ll feed you this croque by myself.”

“Please do.”

Excuse me?

What did he just say?

“Go on,” Robbe encourages Sander. “Feed me. I’m waiting.”

Oh, it’s on!

All the way or no way, Driesen.

Without saying another word, Sander grab a piece of his dish and feed it to Robbe who slowly opens his mouth and bites it.

Fucking hell and this infuriating sexual tension!

Sander knows he should look away but he can’t—even when Robbe closes his eyes to savor the food, Sander finds himself more captivated by him. These lips; how does they feel like? How does they taste like? Are they gonna be as soft as silk? As decadent as the most expensive chocolate?

But he must stop. He should stop his thoughts—this kind of thoughts, to be exact or there’ll be an unnecessary trouble.

“Is it good?”

“Divine,” Robbe says, smiling softly but later turns serious. “You okay? Your face look tense.”

Of course, I’m not okay, Robbe! He thought bitterly.

“Yes,” Sander answers in a clipped voice. “Would you like to do it now?”

Robbe is clearly confuse by Sander’s sudden dismissal but doesn’t say anything about it. To be completely honest, his feeling is a bit hurt.

“Okay.”

Sander turns his back to see Robbe’s hurtful face and immediately feels bad, “sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just.. whenever I’m around you, my brain’s stop working.”

“Am I that bad?”

Sander almost laugh, “God, no. You’re far from that. You’re special, Robbe IJzermans.”

Hearing this, Robbe’s blushes hard and quick. This is the very first time he hears someone—not just someone—but Sander Driesen, the coolest guy on YouTube, actually said that he’s special. His heart’s beating really, really fast right now.

“Komaan.” Sander says as he takes Robbe’s hand to his room.

The first thing Robbe sees is a HUGE poster of David Bowie in front of Sander’s bed. It’s so huge that maybe it can be use as a blanket.

“Cool, huh?” Sander chuckles when he notices Robbe’s ‘awe’ expression.

“So cool.”

“You can stare at him all you want later,” Sander says as he sits on the floor and grabs his guitar. “Alle kom, Robbe! Sit beside me.”

Robbe do what he’s been told. Something like the ocean and summer breeze from Sander catches his nose and Robbe finds himself inhaling that scent deeply.

Perfect. Now his heart beats erratically again.

“You ready?” Sander asks, looking straight at Robbe’s eyes.

“I am.”

Sander can feel Robbe’s nervousness and knowing it’s because of his presence can do such thing to his crush, it makes him smile so wide. Before he can stop, his hand touches Robbe’s cheek, “you’ll be fine. Okay?”

Robbe nods. He takes the flower crown from his bag and wears it.

“Cutie,” Sander mumbles softly under his breath before he presses “enter” on his keyboard to start the video.

“Hey everyone, Sander’s here and I’m with someone really special today,” he looks at Robbe whose eyes are as big as a globe because he’s too shock. “Introduce yourself. Go on!”

Robbe blinks fast as he comes back to earth, “uh, yeah! It’s Robbe and I agreed to do a collab with Jack Frost beside me.”

“Jack Frost, huh?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Fair enough,” Sander grins. “What are we gonna do today?”

“Whatever you want.” Robbe answers innocently.

“I have a lot of things on my mind about it BUT we’re gonna do an impromptu song cover for now.”

“What are we gonna sing?” Then Robbe quickly adds. “Oh not Bowie or anything that we particularly love.”

“I’m listening.” Sander says seriously.

“What’s song that’s been on your playlist for awhile, you like but never really sing it out loud?”

Sander immediately replies, “Ben Howard’s song called Promise.”

The big smile Sander adores so much reappears, “I also happened to know that song! Shall we sing it now?”

Just when Robbe is about to sing, Peter Pan suddenly bursts in, quickly finds place on his lap and sleeps. They can’t help but laugh at this marvelous sight.

“Sorry, viewers. This is just my puppy, Peter Pan.”

“And he’s dead tired.” Sander adds, chuckling.

“Anyway, let’s continue. You sing first, Sander!”

The cheerful vibes between them gradually turns much calmer when Sander sings the first chorus.

“And meet me there, bundles of flowers, we wait through the hours of cold...”

Robbe continues.

“Winter shall howls at the wall, tearing down doors of time...”

Both are singing melodiously, much to their surprises because none of them really actually practice or anything. It’s purely ‘in the moment’ situation. Hundreds of comment keeps on coming, saying they look really cute together, etc etc etc. The views rapidly increases from two thousand something to eleven thousand within few minutes.

Robbe admires ardently how Sander plays the guitar in the most calming manner possible. No rush, no hesitation, no doubt—it feels like he was born to hold that instrument. These tattoos, especially the Bowie’s lightning one on Sander’s wrist is making him look even more ethereal. Bleached-blond hair with black clothes and tattoos; Sander Driesen is the perfect example of a sweetest sin that Robbe will gladly accepts.

On the other hand, Sander never truly realises how beautiful Robbe is, now that he’s finally be able to sees his face up close. Everything about him is perfect—too perfect for him. He wonders how it feels like to have their bodies wrap together, with or without clothes. How his fingers slowly but hungrily traces every inch of Robbe’s body.

“Who am I darling, to you? Who am I? Going to tell you stories of mine... who am I?” Sander sings, never breaking the eye contact from Robbe. “Who am I darling, for you? Who am I? Going to be a burden... who am I darling, to you? Who am I?” He continues when his crush is too stunned to say anything.

Fuck it! I don’t care anymore!

Sander puts his guitar aside, places one hand on Robbe’s cheek, and without thinking, without worrying about the fact that thousands of people are watching this live stream, Sander kisses him. He promises to himself that if Robbe gives him the slightest uncomfort, he’ll back down, just like that.

But the greedy monster inside him roars in victory when Robbe’s also leaning closer and deepening the kiss.

After several long moments, or maybe several moons later (okay this is too much but it does feel like it for Sander), both finally breaking the kiss to catch a breath.

Robbe breathes, “Wow, that was...”

“Amazing?”

“Spectacular?”

“Show-stopping?”

“Never the same?”

“Totally unique?”

“Brilliant?”

Sander laughs loud until his nose scrunches, “unbelievable. We just kissed and suddenly mimicked Lady Gaga’s wisdom words? Never been done before.”

Robbe laughs nervously. His lips are chapped, so does Sander’s.

“You do realise that we’re still going live, right?”

“Of course I do and I don’t care,” Sander abruptly turns to camera and says proudly. “mense, I just kissed my crush in front of you all, even the world, and I have no regrets. I’ve been dying to kiss him for months and now I finally got it. And that also concludes today’s video. See you very soon and thanks for watching!”

“I still can’t believe we actually did it.”

Sander gives him a peck, “oh but we just did.”

Robbe smiles shyly, “so, what are gonna do now?”

“Kissing, talking, kissing again, lots of kissing, talking,” Sander smirks. “What about you?”

“Just kiss me now, please.”

Sander kisses Robbe again and again then whispers, “You don’t need to say please, engel.”

Couple hours later

#wtfock #wtfam #fanfic #my edit

[kaistarus]

Clickbait--Chapter 4

Summary: A lot of great things came with being a big name YouTuber, but along with those perks were some serious drawbacks. One of the biggest being a lack of personal privacy. Due to just one video, Kirishima’s least well-kept secret has become a viral sensation overnight, and now he has to deal with the repercussions from both the YouTube community and the public. Hopefully, those he’s dragging down with him won’t mind…

Pairing: Kiribaku

Words: 3,990

Notes: Ya’ know when life and college happen? Anyway, I have full intentions to finish this story. It’s all plotted out, so don’t worry about me falling off the face of the earth :) I had a lot of fun with this chapter. I hope it was worth the wait! Read the full story here

Kirishima stood stunned at his front door. He refused to believe that Bakugou Katsuki was standing mere feet away on the other side of that false wood. How could it be that Bakugou would choose the day Kirishima had run out of laundry to show up at his home uninvited? The pair of his questionably clean Mysteries Unsolved sweatpants weighed heavy on his waist as his eyes remained fixated on the handle, hoping if he remained still, he could convince himself it was all a cruel figment of his morning imagination.

Another round of pounding racked the door.

“What the hell was that, Shitty Hair?” An unmistakable raspy voice came muffled through the wood. Kirishima was wrong. Bakugou was here and this was real, and he was doomed.

Kaminari wrapped his arms around his head and groaned on the kitchen floor, “make it stop.”

“Is something wrong?” Sero asked. Mina rose from her seat and Kirishima tried motioning for her to stay still. She rolled her eyes and made her way towards where he was on the verge of another mental break.

He’s been having an awful lot of those lately, he realized. He seriously needed to take time to sit back and reconsider several of his recent life choices.

“Bakugou’s here.” He whispered, nodding towards the door. Mina raised her brows and mouthed ‘Bakugou’ to Sero who shot her an exhausted look.

“It wasn’t me,” Mina put her hands up defensively, then gave Kirishima a pointed look. “You know we have to open that door.”

“No, we don’t,” Kirishima began guiding her away from the entryway, but Mina pushed back against him. They started shoving back and forth; hands in faces, elbows in stomachs, Mina pulling every dirty tactic to fake-out Kirishima in hopes of getting a grasp on the doorknob; however, he had a major height advantage and easily blocked her path.

“Ei, we can’t just leave them in the hallway.” Mina puffed up her cheeks in a pout. She ducked beneath his arm, nearly reaching her goal before Kirishima wrapped his arms around her mid-section and tossed her over his shoulder. Mina kicked and squealed against him as he moved her away from the entrance. “You’re being ridiculous!”

“No, you’re being ridiculous!” Kirishima angled his face away from her flailing limbs, “betray me again Mina and I swear to god I’ll—Oh!” Kirishima fell to his knees when one of Mina’s uncoordinated flails resulted in a swift kick to his groin. The moment she was free she gave him a short apology before dashing away. Kirishima didn’t even have time to protest. Too busy face-planting the carpet in agony—physical and emotional—to the sounds of Sero’s cackling and Kaminari’s pitiful whines.

What a way to go out, he thought. Face smashed into the floor, ass in the air, and his dignity nowhere to be found. It’s a near spitting image of how he’d always imagined.

“The fuck is going on?”

Kirishima’s shoulders shot to his ears. He rotated his head towards the door to find an upside-down image of Bakugou and Uraraka staring down at him. Uraraka held her hands against her mouth like she was trying to hold in a laugh while Bakugou just glared. Surprisingly, Kaminari was the one standing beside the open door, head cradled in his hands. Kirishima shot him a dirty look.

“I had to stop the knocking dude,” Kaminari said before slinking down against the wall. Kirishima grumbled several half-assed insults and turned away from their newly entered guests.

“I’m so glad you guys made it!” He heard Mina skip over to be obnoxiously friendly. He sneered. He definitely was not throwing a fit though because he was an adult and adults don’t throw fits. He crossed his arms.

“You sure? ‘Cause it sounded like you were haven’t quite the argument.” Uraraka said cheekily. Kirishima felt his face flame up. He let his butt sink down and hoped the rest of him would melt into the floor with it.

“Oh, that? Just the usual banter…” Mina laughed awkwardly, trying to wave it off. Kirishima sighed and suddenly he was reminded why they never collaborated with anyone outside of their small group. Chaotic mess.

He felt a kick to his side and grumbled. He attempted to ignore it, but the kicks increased in strength so Kirishima rolled over to tell who he assumed was Sero off. Words failed him when he was met with a set scarlet stare.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Bakugou gave him another rough nudge with the toe of his shoe. Kirishima tried pushing him off, but Bakugou just pressed down harder.

“I gave him a good kick where it hurts,” Mina winked.

“It was awesome,” Sero said. “A one-hit knockout.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “So, you just gonna pout for the rest of the fucking day?”

“I’m not pouting!”

“Sure, fucking looks like it.” Bakugou smirked. Kirishima narrowed his eyes at him. “Oh, and nice pants.”

Kirishima’s eyes widened. He’d completely forgotten he was wearing Mysteries Unsolved merch. Bakugou’s smirk grew cocky and he nudged Kirishima a little harder. Kirishima felt like his face was going to start on fire.

“So, what’s our game plan for the day?” Uraraka asked, pulling Bakugou away by the top of his shirt. Kirishima was grateful. Another second of physical contact with mocking and he’d probably be dead. “We were promised a YouTube video?”

“I’m pretty sure only you were promised a YouTube video.” Sero pointed at her with his greasy spatula and Bakugou glared back. Sero put his hands up defensively. “Not that we’re disappointed you’re here…”

“Real convincing, Soy Sauce.”

Sero stared off for a moment, as if trying to process Bakugou’s words. They lost him for several minutes.

“I, for one, am more than happy you’re here. I’m sure Kirishima is too!” Mina shot him a smile. He made eye-contact with Bakugou and mumbled out a quick agreement.

               “Well, what the fuck do you normally do for videos?” Bakugou asked, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

               “Well, normally we just fuck around for a week and then I edit it to make it look like we’re cool.” Kirishima crossed his arms. “When I’m lazy I just throw together some leftover clips, call them bloopers and throw them up on my second channel.”

               “I do that, but all in one day and once a month.” Kaminari piped up from the floor. Sero rolled his eyes.

               “They didn’t ask you.” Sero pointed out. Kaminari stuck out his tongue, curling back up onto his side for his umpteenth hangover nap that morning.

               “Well, are we gonna just fuck around then?” Bakugou asked. Kirishima felt his face warm up a bit and turned away from them.

               “We could always do a challenge video?” Mina said, tapping her chin. “You post those on your second channel too sometimes.”

               Kirishima shrugged. “I suppose. I haven’t done that in months.” It was actually a great idea. Those always got a lot of views since he rarely posted them, and he could use some bloopers for the next main channel video. “Yeah, actually that’d be great.”

               “It works for my channel too since we can just split clips.” Mina smiled. “Especially if we’re on different teams.”

               Now Kirishima was getting the feeling that he should be extremely against whatever idea Mina was coming up with. The way she was eyeing up Bakugou gave him all sorts of red flags.

               “Teams?” Uraraka tapped her chin as well. Kirishima glanced between the girls who now wore identical expressions. He watched them lock eyes and smile mischievously each other. Why would he ever think introducing another deviously evil personality to Mina was a good idea? He looked to Bakugou who was staring at everyone indifferently. Did he seriously not notice the plotting occurring?

               Kaminari suddenly perked up. “That’s absolutely genius. Think of all the views a video with Kirishima and Bakugou would get.”

               Everyone except Kirishima nodded.

               “I mean, we shouldn’t do a video just for views.” Kirishima lifted himself into sitting. “C’mon… don’t we have morals? Standards?”

Everyone in the room blinked.

“Do you have… morals?” Kaminari tilted his head towards Mina.

“Never heard of her.”

“Standards left me years ago.” Uraraka shrugged.

Kirishima’s jaw hung open and he turned to Bakugou looking for help, but Bakugou just shrugged loosely. Kirishima struggled for words before sighing. “At least let me shower.”

“That’s the spirit!” Mina cheered.

If anyone had told him that he would have his crush publicly released for clickbait only to be filming videos with the guy days later for that same clickbait… he’d think they were absolutely insane. Maybe he was the insane one?

What even was his life anymore…

               The game Kirishima had no say in since he’d been in the shower was the Newly Wed game. The concept seemed innocent enough when they explained it to him. They were asked questions and their partner had to guess the right answer. Easy. The only problem being the abnormal amount of information Kirishima knew about Bakugou.

               “We’re positive I shouldn’t be partnered with Mina?” Kirishima was already finding it hard to look at Bakugou now that Sero convinced him to wear Vlog Squad merch. Bakugou in his red Vlog Squad hoodie might actually kill him if he thought about it too hard.

               “People already know we’re best friends.” Mina rolled her eyes. “They want to see you and Bakugou versus me and Uraraka.”

               “This is fine with you?” Kirishima asked Bakugou who had been casually leaning against the kitchen counter. Seeing Bakugou fit so easily in his home was really messing with his head. Kirishima clenched his fists to remain focused.

               “I don’t make mediocre videos.” He raised a brow. “Either this shit gets trending, or it was a waste of my time.”

               Sero snorted from where he was setting up their filming area. “Sounds like a yes if I’ve ever heard one.”

               Bakugou scowled and went to check what Sero was doing. Kirishima watched them discuss Sero’s equipment, defeated once again. Mina was already grabbing small whiteboards she left in Kaminari’s bedroom with her extra supplies while Uraraka scrolled through questions with Kaminari who was finally beginning to rejoin reality.

Once again it looked like his fate had been placed in the hands of his friends.

               “You ready, Ei?” Mina smiled, hugging the boards to her chest. He took a deep breath glancing at the blonde boy in the center of his living room, looking over tech equipment with Sero. It felt like he was moving through this day half-awake, like he’d go to sleep tonight thinking it was all a dream.

               He nodded.

               The couples sat next to each other on the boy’s living room couch leaving a small space between them. When Sero signaled they were recording Mina and Kirishima gave their usual over the top introductions before introducing their guests. Uraraka waved overexcited while Bakugou barely acknowledged the camera.

               “Denki is also here only this time we’ve kicked him behind the camera. He’ll be asking the questions.” Mina pointed to Kaminari with her dry erase marker and Kaminari leaned over the camera, shoving his face directly into the lens with a wide smile. Kirishima and Bakugou simultaneously groaned.

               “What’s the punishment?” Bakugou asked, tapping his marker against the whiteboard. They all looked at him and Uraraka’s eyes lit ablaze.

               “Uh, we didn’t come up with one.” Kirishima tilted his head.

               “The winners can tweet something off of the losers Twitter.” Uraraka smirked, “it’s an oldie, but a goodie.”

               “That’s no fair.” Mina puffed up her cheeks. “Bakugou doesn’t have a Twitter.”

               “Who says?” Bakugou stated. Kirishima whipped his head towards Bakugou and Mina’s jaw dropped.

               “You have a Twitter?” Kirishima asked. There’s absolutely no way. Kirishima had spent hours internet stalking this guy and never found any hints of a social media account.

               “I don’t know,” Bakugou smirked while scribbling something on the whiteboard. “Let’s win and maybe you’ll find out.”

               Kirishima turned red. Was Bakugou flirting with him? It was probably just for the video, but Kirishima was pretty sure he was being flirted with. Then again Kirishima hasn’t been flirted with in years, so he doesn’t know how to read any signals and could be misinterpreting every—

               “Earth to Ei!”

               “Huh?” Kirishima turned to Kaminari who was snapping at him.

               “Team names?”

               Bakugou turned their board around and Kirishima had to cover his face. In darkened letters, Bakugou had written ‘KIRIBAKU’ across the top in red. “Fucking obviously.” Bakugou cackled.

               “Dude.” Kirishima whined.

               Mina pouted, turning their board around which said ‘PINK BALLOONS’ with a few balloons doodled in the corner. “No fair. You’re baiting the viewers to favor you.”

               “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bakugou said with a devious smile.

               “Blasty always plays dirty.” Uraraka rolled her eyes.

               “Fuck off,” Bakugou growled.

               “YouTube friendly.” Kirishima muttered with crossed arms. “This is my only monetizable content, dude.”

               Bakugou was quiet for a moment before mumbling. “Frick off.”

               Kirishima started laughing and Bakugou had a small smile. Uraraka shook her head. “Bakugou isn’t monetizable.”

               “I can be fucking monetizable.” Bakugou growled with clenched teeth. They all looked at him and he sagged his shoulders. “Fricking.”

               “I was kidding. I can edit, don’t sweat it, dude.” Kirishima waved it off with a wide smile. Bakugou stopped for a moment and just stared at him. Kirishima raised a brow and Bakugou quickly turned away.

               “Oh, he’s really sweaty. So that’s probably not—”

               “Would you shut the fuck up!?” Bakugou leaned over and threw one of their markers at Uraraka. She squealed when it narrowly missed her face and threw one back that smacked Kirishima right in the chest. Uraraka apologized repeatedly while Bakugou sent her double middle fingers from behind Kirishima’s back.

               “Alright, first question.” Kaminari said, completely ignoring the situation in front of him. Bakugou and Uraraka settled down, but the competitive air had risen exponentially between them. Kirishima and Mina glanced at each other helplessly. “What’s your partner’s favorite food?”

               Bakugou snorted before confidently writing down an answer. Kirishima was surprised, but the answer was pretty easy—meat. He’d eat any and all kinds of meat if it was cooked well; honestly, even if it was cooked mediocrely he’d probably still eat it. He supposed that made it a broad guessing category.

               “See this game is fun because it shows us who’s a stalker.” Sero nudged Kaminari and they snickered evilly. Kirishima’s eyes widened. So, it wasn’t just him who had that thought. He side-glanced Bakugou whose grip tightened slightly on the whiteboard as he zoned out on his answer. Was he rethinking his guess?

               “Alright, flip.”

               Bakugou hesitated briefly, but when he turned the board it read the right answer. Kirishima’s heart fluttered unreasonably and he tried desperately to fight back his dopey smile. However, Mina was also correct. Bakugou and Mina both smirked at their personal victories, then glared at each other.

               “What the hell?” Bakugou sneered, erasing his answer. “Why would you know that?”

               “Because I pay attention to her behind the scenes videos.” Mina winked at Uraraka who blew her a kiss back. “Why would you know Kirishima’s favorite food?”

               “Look at the guy,” Bakugou gestured to him with the marker. “He’s never seen a damn vegetable in his life.”

               “I eat vegetables.” Kirishima scoffed. Bakugou gave him a pointed look and Kirishima turned away with pouted lips. So maybe they were his least favorite food group, but once a month he chose the salad option when they got fast food and he deserved credit for that.

               “The second question,” Kaminari drawled out, now hanging upside down off their ottoman. “How old was your partner when they had their first kiss?”

               Kirishima knew the answer was fifteen. He also knew that Bakugou got his first kiss on a dare because Uraraka had teased him about it on one of her Instagram stories. Obviously, he couldn’t write all that, so he pretended to be uncertain about the answer, erasing a couple of times, before finally writing the correct number.

               When he finished Bakugou was looking at him suspiciously.

               “What?”

               “That took you a while.” Bakugou said, raising an eyebrow.

               “It was… a hard question?” He tried to lie, but he was never good at hiding his emotions. Mina always said he got betrayed by is big eyes; he was an open book whether he liked it or not.

               “You’re a shit liar.” Bakugou smirked. Kirishima felt his face turn red and he racked his mind for an excuse. He came up completely empty.

               He frowned. “I know.”

               “No throwing.” Bakugou said, completely serious. “I can’t have Pinky going through my phone.”

               When they flipped their boards Kirishima obviously got it right claiming he guessed. Uraraka had gotten it wrong and Mina clung to her shoulders fake crying about betrayal, and how she thought what they had was real. Bakugou fake gagged through the whole act.

               “How many siblings does your partner have? Bonus points for details.” Kaminari said, now slugged onto the floor.

               Bakugou started writing. Kirishima stared in awe because he just didn’t stop writing.

               “What are writing a novel?” Uraraka asked, snorting. Bakugou just threw up a middle finger.

               When it was time to flip the boards around Kirishima’s jaw dropped. Bakugou had filled the whiteboard with information about his sisters. Even Mina lowered her board down.

               “Two.” Bakugou stated confidently, looking right into the camera. “One is older, and her name is Misaha who you facetime once a week; she’s 23. The second is Aiko. She’s still in high school. 16, I think?”

               Bakugou looked at Kirishima for confirmation and Kirishima just nodded his head slowly. Bakugou smirked and motioned for Kaminari to give them points. Kaminari blinked a few times but drew several tallies on their side of the scoreboard.

               “How do you know all of that?” Mina said, slamming her whiteboard with only a zero written on it on her lap.

               “You literally have to be following him on social media and have watched like three vlogs.” Bakugou rolled his eyes and erased his answer. “He never shuts up about his family. Posts about them all the fucking time.”

               “He’s not wrong.” Sero shrugged.

               Kirishima tilted his head. “You watch my vlogs?”

               Bakugou shrugged. “So, what? You watch our stuff.”

               “Yeah,” Kirishima laughed. “But that’s different.”

               “How?”

               “Well…” Kirishima furrowed his brow. Bakugou’s content was good? Bakugou and Midoriya were real YouTubers? Kirishima didn’t feel like he was anyone worth Bakugou’s free time?

               Kirishima shrugged.

               “Whatever, you’re both awesome we get it. Can we continue?” Kaminari took a deep breath, oblivious to Bakugou’s vicious glare. “What’s your partner’s favorite movie?”

               After that Kirishima was starting to feel like Bakugou was less someone unreachable that he should be idolizing and more just… a person. Kirishima wasn’t afraid to answer the questions he knew truthfully; Bakugou even high-fived him when he knew the name of Mysteries Unsolved’s first YouTube video. He didn’t have to feel anxious around the guy anymore and it felt… amazing.

               Once Mina realized Bakugou was a bit of a Vlog Squad fanboy she nearly quit the game. There was no hope for her and Uraraka since the boys ended on a near-perfect score. Bakugou somehow even bullshitted that Kirishima would want The Rock to play him in a movie. The girls stood absolutely no chance.

               “This is so unfair,” Mina whined as she reluctantly she handed over her cellphone to Bakugou after they’d completed recording. He cackled, and Kirishima swears on whatever god was out there, skipped into the kitchen. Uraraka pouted and held her phone out to Kirishima. He gave her a half-smile, pretending to be sorry, but secretly thrilled to take revenge on someone who’d been plotting his demise since she’d stepped foot in his home.

               “Be kind to me.” Uraraka batted her eyes.

               “No promises.”

               Mina screamed from the other room and they both went wide-eyed, sprinting into the kitchen. Mina was lying on the floor dramatically with her cellphone clutched to her chest while Bakugou sat at the counter laughing. A genuine full-bodied laugh. Kirishima swore his heart stopped.

               “Kirishima!” Mina sat up and pointed at Bakugou. “I want him out of this house. He’s never allowed here again. Banned I say! Ban him for life!”

               “Well,” Kirishima smiled at Bakugou who was still having a hard time containing his laughter. “It’s my house… so… no?”

               She stood and stomped passed him towards Sero and Kaminari while mumbling about how useless he was. Kirishima rolled his eyes and went to sit next to Bakugou at the counter.

               “What’d you do?”

               Bakugou smiled at him and again Kirishima felt himself go through the beginnings of a heart attack. Maybe he should be more careful around this guy. “Check out her Twitter.”

               Kirishima took out his phone and pulled up Mina’s account. He couldn’t contain himself and he burst out laughing too, covering his mouth with his hand.

Alien Queen: Omg guys. I knew my vibes were off!?!? I’m like totally freaking out. It normally doesn’t look like this should I like call 911??? L

               Attached to this tweet was a picture of a toilet with a bright green poop floating in it. Kirishima looked at Bakugou who was just smiling proudly. He’d never thought Bakugou capable of something like this. This Bakugou, the one in front of him, was a million times better than the idealized one he’d created in his head.

               “Have you done Round Face’s, yet?”

               “Oh.” Kirishima pulled out Uraraka’s phone. Bakugou took it and quickly entered the password before handing it back to him. “I’ll just do this.”

               Kirishima commented on Bakugou’s post. ‘This happened to me last week. I feel you. Solidarity in numbers, babe. Keep me updated.’

               Bakugou started to cackle again and Kirishima smiled. Then Bakugou tried to reach for Kirishima’s actual phone and he instinctively pulled it away. “Whoa, I didn’t lose. If anything, I carried.”

               Bakugou snorted and just motioned for Kirishima to hand it over. He scrunched up his nose but unlocked the screen and gave it to Bakugou. Bakugou raised a quick brow at Kirishima’s sexy rock background but shook it off and started punching in a number, then Bakugou’s phone started ringing. When Kirishima realized what was happening he took a shaky breath.

               Where was one of his dumb friends when he needed them?

               They were all respectfully hanging out in the living room while he flirted with someone in the kitchen. When have they ever not meddled in a situation that didn’t need meddling? This is an opportune time for Kaminari to do something stupid or Mina to think he needs help.

               Hello?

               Bakugou set Kirishima’s phone on the counter next to him and it vibrated. A new message from an unknown number.

               “For whatever.” Bakugou shrugged. “Collabs and shit.”

               “Right.” Kirishima smiled softly. “Collabs and shit.”

               Bakugou rolled his eyes, but a small smile forced its way onto his face.

               “Hey!” Sero shouted. “We’re playing Smash. You guys in or what?”

               Bakugou’s eyes immediately lit up and he whipped his head towards the living room. “Fuck yeah, I’m in.” He hopped off the stool and looked at Kirishima expectantly. “Ready to get your ass kicked?”

               Boy was he.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard.” Kirishima stretched his arms. “I’m kind of the Smash Bros god of this house.”

               “Not for long.” Bakugou left the kitchen, hopping onto one of the couches and swiping Uraraka’s Switch controller. She whined and swatted at him, starting another argument between the two. Kirishima rolled his eyes and clutched his phone tightly before placing it in his pocket.

               He was very excited about the possible ‘collabs and shit’ this contact may lead to. Until then, he grabbed a controller from Kaminari and selected his main man Luigi. He had a title to defend.

#kiribaku #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #bnha #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugou #fanfic #lmao i promise i won't abandon this fic #i love it too much #and i love them too much #:) #youtube au #clickbait #bakugou x kirishima #kiribaku fic #kiribaku fanfic

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

I Know, You Know

Happy birthday to @areyouscarletcold!!!!! For your gift, I brought our IT AU to life in the form of the first of the Yang trilogy! Hope you enjoy it!

AO3

              A rare sunny day in Derry was something to be enjoyed. After three days of fog and rain, it seemed that everyone wanted to do the same thing. People were walking around on the streets and on the beach. Getting a table in the restaurant was just as hard, but Richie had managed to secure him and Ben one in the end.

“Any idea of what you’re going to get?” Ben asked him a few minutes after they’d picked up their menus.

Richie grinned, having known since he arrived at the table. “Breakfast.”

“It’s 12:30, Richie.”

“Yes, but I didn’t have breakfast, the most important meal of the day. Aren’t you one of the people always telling me to eat breakfast?”

“Yes, except you eat it in the morning!”

“So why do people eat breakfast for dinner? You’ve done that, Benny Boy. Are you telling me that you’re wrong eating breakfast for dinner?”

Anyone else might have been pissed off at Richie for that, but Ben was one of the people who’d known him long enough to understand it was all in jest.

“You two decided what to eat yet?” a waiter asked them as he came over to the table.

              Richie smiled at the handsome man and looked him over. His hair was gelled up enough so his blond hair would look stylish. There was the barest hint of black eyeliner gracing his lids. No ring on his finger, slight limp as he shuffled a little closer in his work boots with a smear of grease on the outer right sole. Calloused hands and green eyes that definitely lingered on Ben ever so briefly, not that Richie could blame him.

Ben sighed and handed over his menu. “The eggs benedict with fruit. I’ll be right back.”

The waiter scribbled down the order as Ben headed off in the direction of the bathroom. “Great. How about you?”

“Let me see…” Richie leaned back in his seat and grinned. “Oh, and don’t mind my friend. He’s been cranky the last few days. Please, tell me what you would recommend?”

“All the sandwiches are really great-”

“I have to stop you, I’m so sorry,” Richie held up a finger for emphasis. “But I have not eaten breakfast yet, my best friend claimed it was the most important meal of the day, and I think it’s vital I should have that. Also, because he’s my best friend, I want to needle him just a little bit with some part of it.”

“How about…chocolate banana pancakes with a side of smoked salmon?”

“He’d hate that,” Richie grinned. “That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Not sure about that.”

“You’re a man who clearly has a passion for cars, probably classic? What are you working on, a Chevy and listening to Queen?”

“A Volkswagen actually,” the waiter corrected. “Not wrong about Queen.”

“You can never go wrong with Queen.”

“Has he ordered yet?” Ben asked as he returned to his seat. “And please tell me you weren’t gross.”

“I ordered things normal people get for breakfast,” Richie promised, which wasn’t a complete lie. “He can vouch for me.”

“I’ll get these orders going, but he did.”

As their waiter left, Ben turned back to Richie. “You flirted with him, didn’t you?”

“Noooo.”

“You turn on the Tozier charm every time you meet a gay man, Trashmouth.”

“He’s gay? I had no idea! How did you know?”

“Richie, I saw how he looked at you and me, he’s gay,” Ben screwed up his face and put a hand to his temple. “Did you do this?”

Richie knew Ben was baiting him, but he was Trashmouth supreme and would make this game his. “Take a shit in the chair? That’s unsanitary, Ben!”

As predicted, Ben dropped the act immediately. “I meant being psychic.”

“No, you know that is for the police department and cases,” Richie lectured. “And for getting free drinks in the bar.”

“That was once.”

“Still worked out well for us. And it’s because of this that we get paid by Stan.”

“I have a job, Richie,” Ben reminded him. “But I know he’s going to leave you his phone number on the bill, right? And you’ll leave him hanging because you struggle with commitment.”

“I struggle with commitment?” Richie laughed, even though Ben had struck dead on. But it did give him pause…and made him think about a certain someone from his high school reunion. “Then watch this.”

Richie pulled his phone out of his pocket, selected a number, and showed the screen to Ben.

“If he says yes, you have to go on the date,” Ben told him.

“And I will!” Richie hissed. “Commitment issues? Nope. I just took a leap of faith while you still pine for the lovely Detective Marsh.”

Ben raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything else as the call connected.  

~~~

“Bill, you want me to order the-” Mike stopped as his husband strode past him, white as a sheet. “Bill, what’s wrong?”

              Bill didn’t stop walking, heading right for Stan’s office. Mike followed his husband to the chief’s office, noticing an evidence bag with a manila envelope inside in his hand. When they entered, Stan was on the phone with Patty. Once he saw Bill’s face, he told his wife he had to go and hung up.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Bill set the bag on Stan’s desk. “This just got dropped off at the desk.”

Mike leaned over his shoulder to get a better look at it. On the back was the decal of a clown with a sinister smile. His heart sank as he remembered how he’d seen it on the news when he was younger. Stan swallowed, looking a lot more concerned than he had a moment ago. The chief of police had recognized the decal too.

“Who did he choose this time?”

~~~

“Could this not be a more perfect day?” Richie announced as they walked up the stairs to the precinct. “The sun is shining, I’ve eaten a breakfast, I have a date, and Stan the Man has just called us about a case.”

“You still have to actually go on the date,” Ben reminded him. “So what do you think this is going to be about?”

“No clue, but I will definitely be using this?” Richie made his psychic face at Ben. “My moneymaker is going to be in action.”

“Whatever you say,” Ben shrugged as they saw almost everyone in the precinct assembled in the bullpen. “This looks serious though.”

“You made it.”

              Both men turned around to see Detective Beverly Marsh walking towards them. Richie didn’t miss the way that Ben’s face lit up when he saw her. Ever since they’d started Psych and started working with the police department, his best friend had been pining hard for the detective. Richie approved of Bev not just because she believed he was psychic, but because she was tough, smart, and had laughed at his jokes a few times. Also, she tended to be with-

“Edster!” Richie waved at Bev’s partner as she led them over to the rest of the crowd. “How are you?”

“Not the time, Tozier,” Detective Edward Kaspbrak snapped. “This is serious shit happening.”

“Ooookay, duly noted. I’ve missed you too.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Stanley Uris, chief of the Derry Police, called everyone’s attention to a message made of magazine clippings on the projector.

“This letter was delivered to us about an hour ago,” Stan announced. “It’s confirmed to be from the Clown Killer. Detective Kaspbrak, if you will?”

Eddie stepped up. “Hey everybody, I’m back and back for one night only. I’m going to kill somebody tonight? Guess who? Guess where? Guess how? We’re going to have so much fun. Signed, the Clown.”

“The Clown Killer always demands a challenger when he commits his crimes,” Stan continued. “It’s what he does- makes someone follow clues to figure out what his plan is and see if they can stop it in time. The Clown Killer has made it clear who he wants his opponent to be already. Denbrough?”

Officer Bill Denbrough clicked to the next slide. Richie felt like someone had put an ice cube down his back as he read the next magazine letter message.

“P.S…Bring your psychic along,” Bev read aloud as everyone turned towards Richie.

Richie grinned at the crowd. “Okay, but I’m not the first psychic who’s worked with the police. Remember that FBI guy who had a psychic with him?”

“She was in on a counterfeiting scheme,” Ben mumbled next to him.

Stan looked sympathetic. “Mr. Tozier, I’m sorry but he’s made it clear that he wants it to be you.”

“How could he-”

Stan clicked to the next slide. The ice cube now felt like a bucked of ice water going down his shirt when he saw his picture on the screen. It had been the one from when he and Ben had discovered the dinosaur (even though Ben said they had technically re-discovered it after finding the dead paleontologist). There was a stamp of a clown at the bottom of the picture.

“Oh fuck,” he said softly. Someone actually wanted to play a game with him.

Ben stepped forward to stand at his side. “Do you have description on him? Something we can use to track him down?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Stan shook his head. “There’s never been anything to indicate age or ethnicity. Not even a physical description.”

“There isn’t even consistency with the manner in which he kills,” Mike Hanlon, the coroner and medical examiner, added. “I’ve reviewed the files. Neither Bill nor I have been able to find a pattern.”

“He’s right,” Stan nodded. “We’re pawns in his game and we just have to play along with it.”

“Because it’s worked out so well in the past?” Richie countered, his eye catching someone in the corner of the room. “Wait, wait, wait, I’m getting something. I am having a vision of the killer!”

Bev went rigid. “What? Already?”

“Yes, Detective, I am.”

Richie marched across the room, Ben shadowing him, and pointed to a man with a ballcap sitting at a desk. He seemed tuned out to the whole ordeal. “Him. Right here. This is the Clown Killer.”

The man didn’t even pay attention to him, but Bev let out a small groan and Eddie ran a hand down his face. Stan was looking pissed off, then even more so when Bill whispered something in his ear and they retreated to his office.

“Tozier, this is…” Eddie pressed his lips together briefly, barely holding back frustration. “Belch Huggins. He’s a profiler who’s come in because he has identified patterns in the Clown Killer’s murders and is an expert on him. Even more so than Bill and Mike, which is saying something.”

“Are you sure he’s not the killer?”

Ben elbowed him from behind. “Play nice.”

Bev had caught up them now. “Uh, Belch, this is-”

“Richard Tozier, in the flesh,” Belch finished, rising from the chair and adjusting his ballcap.

Richie turned to Ben and raised his eyebrow. Ben gave him a subtle headshake. He was right. Pissing off a potential serial killer was a bad idea, even for him.

“Hold on, you know Tozier?”

“I’ve done my research, Detective Kaspbrak. Not to mention he’s in the papers frequently for the work he’s done for you. No doubt the Clown Killer saw him and decided to select him to be the next player.”

“I’m more of a Street Fighter guy, but beggars can’t be choosers,” Richie told him, stepping aside for Ben. “This is my partner, Leonard Snuffleupagus.”

Belch held out a limp hand that Ben shook politely. “Hello.”

“So you are Benjamin Hanscom,” Belch smiled. “It was harder to find stuff on you with all the names your partner’s given-”

“So why Belch?” Richie interrupted. “You have a gas problem or something.”

“Tozier, please,” Eddie practically begged. “We’re all introduced now. Mr. Huggins, can you tell us more about what’s going on?”

“But answer the Belch question too.”

Belch took a deep breath. “The Clown Killer is the most notorious and mysterious killer in all of Derry. He first started in 1988 with five kills and has resurfaced three times with a single victim in each of those instances. This is his fourth appearance since the 1988 spree. The only times he comes out of hiding are when he feels there is a worthy opponent, Richie in this case. He challenges his opponents to save the victim in a set amount of time by solving riddles he creates.”

Richie raised his hand. “I have a question.”

“My given name is Reginald, my father was named Reginald, his father before him was named Reginald, and his father before him was named Mary. I find the name stuffy; I refuse to go by Reggie because of Archie Comics, and Belch was a childhood nickname.”

Richie lowered his hand. Mystery solved, at least the easy one.

“Okay, you said there are riddles we have to solve?” Ben asked. “Has anything come in yet?”

Bev nodded. “One got delivered with the note announcing his return. Belch?”

Belch walked over to the projector and moved to the next slide. A picture of a telegram message was on the screen, a nice change of pace from the creepy magazine letters.

“He serves the general well today, whose soldiers wait to die. In a white river they shall pay, for them he will not cry. Who is he?”

Richie studied the riddle as Belch pulled a stopwatch out of his jacket. “This stopwatch was also inside the envelope, already running. This is typical of the Clown Killer and we only have an hour and ten minutes left on it."

"Generals and soldiers...could it be military?” Eddie asked, scratching his head.

“Perhaps,” Belch shrugged. “But he wants to play with the psychic. The riddle will be something personally connected to him.”

Richie closed his eyes for a moment. Eddie’s question on the military was still hanging onto him. Generals, soldiers, ranking. Private. Corporal. Lieutenant. Captain. Colonel. But white rivers…a battle? Mike knew some military history, could he know of any battles? But this was for him, this was his clue…

“Any thoughts so far?” Eddie asked.

“He’s been planning this a while or he’s just a lazy poet,” Richie suggested, trying to remember high school history class.

“Richard!”

Fuck, his dad had arrived. Ben was giving him a deer in the headlights look. Richie could tell by the look on the old man’s face that he was not pleased.

“A moment, please,” he said to his friends and Belch before running over to where his father was standing. “What are you doing here?”

“You can’t work with this case, Richard,” Wentworth Tozier scolded his son. “I forbid you to be a part of this.”

“Forbid me…what? No, I am a grown ass adult, Dad. I’m taking the case.”

“Don’t. I was around the last time this sick bastard challenged a cop. Your mother can tell you all about his psychological evaluation. Not only does he know about you, but also about everyone you care about. If you don’t catch him…Richie, you’ll never sleep again.”

His father rarely called him by his nickname. That meant he really wanted Richie to listen to him.

“Dad, I can handle this. I promise you. Just go home, and I’ll give you a call tomorrow, relive the greatest hits. Besides, that clock is counting down so I kinda gotta go and save someone’s life.”

Wentworth didn’t look pleased. “Don’t fuck this up.”

“And I shall try my hardest not to,” Richie snarked back before turning around and heading back to the others.

Eddie was arguing about past cases with Mike and Belch when Richie made it back to the group. Bev and Ben were watching and whispering to each other. Richie looked at the riddle again. He still couldn’t think of anything. What was the Clown Killer trying to tell him?

“The first one is always a gimme,” Belch was telling them. “Richie, you need to think about the last twenty-four hours.”

Staying inside with the rain. Watching Netflix. Arranging a meal with Ben. Breakfast for lunch at the restaurant. He’d run out of cereal so that’s why he’d…

“Oh!” he shouted. “Ben, I know! I got it! It’s Mills!”

His best friend looked at him with confusion. Bev and Eddie exchanged a similar expression. Belch looked intrigued.

“General Mills,” Richie said. “Cereal. The white river is milk, soldiers are the little bits of cereal, and he’s talking about breakfast.”

“Great, we have the general, but who is he?”

Eddie’s question made Richie think back again. The riddle had referred to someone serving the General. Someone serving breakfast…

“Shit.”

~~~

              Eddie made remarkable time getting them all back to where Richie had been eating breakfast with Ben. Once they were there, Richie didn’t even wait for the car to park before tumbling out while Eddie shrieked at him to wait. There was no time to wait though with the timer counting down. The hostess told them when they all barreled in that the waiter had gone on break in the back. Richie barely even let her show them the way, running off in the direction she pointed with Eddie and Ben on his heels.

Outside of the restaurant, there was no waiter in sight. Unfortunately, there was a clown decal plastered on a locker below a stopwatch. The cold feeling he’d gotten earlier was back.

“How well did you all know this guy?” Bev asked, but her voice sounded fuzzy.

“He just served us lunch.”

“Breakfast…for lunch,” Richie corrected. “It was barely anything.”

“Doesn’t matter with the Clown Killer,” Belch said simply, like he was telling a child the sun went down at night. “He’ll find anyone you interact with.”

Bev was yanking on a pair of gloves and opening the locker. No dead body fell out thankfully. There was another message inside, except it was made with glued on cereal.

“Oh rats, Richie,” Bev read. “Oh, so close! Shame he has to die, but how? And when and where? Don’t ask me why.”

“That’s not a riddle,” commented Belch. “He owes us one still.”

“Richie, think you can sense anything from it?” Bev asked him.

Richie tried to look for something, but the waiter was still on his mind. “Clearly he went to a lot of work to pick out the letters from the cereal. For a guy who rhymes like a sixth grader, he had to be planning this. Like he was waiting for me for breakfast. He should have used those little alphabet letters that people put in soup. Why do they call it alphabet soup anyways? There’s fucking numbers in that stuff! Why don’t you calling it fucking letters and numbers soup? It makes more sense!”

Ben nudged him. “I have to go show you something over there.”

“You can just tell me.”

“I want to show you something,” Ben jerked his head towards a flower box. “This will be a quick second.”

Eddie nodded in understanding before going back to checking over the locker with Bev. Richie groaned and ran his hands down his face. “What?”

“Richie, what are you doing?”

“Trying to solve a case, like we always do.

“There’s a man’s life at stake and you’re making jokes?” Ben whispered. “Richie, you are my best friend, I love you, and I support you. But you have to take this one seriously. It’s a serial killer who is going after you!”

“You think I don’t know that? Ben, I’m scared out of my mind. We heard about those cases growing up, my dad knew people who faced this guy, my mother did their psych evals. I have to work like this because if this clown gets into my head, then it’s all over. I’ll lose it. I have to do my thing and make jokes to diffuse the tension of this situation or I’m going to actually start freaking out more. I can’t show weakness by stopping and showing that this weirdo has gotten into my head!”

Ben stared at him for a long minute. “What if I made the jokes?”

“Come again?”

“You have to focus on these riddles, not creating jokes,” Ben told him. “Let me try and be the funny guy. I’m no you, but…I can try.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“I said I’d try. That clock’s running out though. Let’s do this, Trashmouth.”

Richie grinned. “You’re the Trashmouth now.”

“Guess, I am.”

“If you’re both done with your powwow now, I found the other poem,” Eddie shouted, holding up a receipt.

Richie walked over, peering over Eddie’s shoulder. “Little League is over, you just became a pro. Score a run, we’ll have some fun. Make sure you beat the throw.”

Ben peeked over Eddie’s other shoulder. “Wow, and he didn’t leave a tip. What a jackass.”

“He wants you to go to the next location,” Belch said before letting out a burp.

“And we have seventeen minutes,” Eddie held up the watch. “Tozier, would you please get off my shoulder? Where do we need to go?”

Richie cringed and started to think. Oh god, where did this guy want him now?

Ben glanced over at him and nodded. He picked up a soda can and started playing hacky sack with it. After a while, he started to whistle Happy Birthday. Belch looked fascinated. Bev raised an eyebrow at his antics. Then she clapped her hands together.

“Make sure you beat the throw is a close play! I had a coach once who told us that constantly. You have to get to one of the bases or home plate.”

“Yes!” Richie saw where she was going. “He said score a run. I sucked at Little League, but I know you have to touch home plate to score. Home plate is the police station, it’s where this started.”

“Good, good, good,” Eddie said quickly, fumbling a little as he pulled out his keys. “Now let’s go!”

~~~

              When they got back to the police station, Maggie Tozier was waiting there. Eddie watched as Richie went off to go and talk to her. He thought about shouting at him briefly to just come along, but he knew about Richie’s relationship with his parents. It had been the total opposite of him and his mother. They’d buried themselves in their work and weren’t there for Richie when he needed them. When Maggie had evaluated him a few months ago, she’d mentioned it was a regret of hers that she was actively trying to fix.

“Kaspbrak, Marsh!” Stan came out of the conference room. “In here!”

“Is it a surprise party?” Ben asked.

Bev frowned at him. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Cool as a cucumber.”

Eddie rolled his eyes as they walked inside. Mike and Bill were with Stan, staring at a massive box on the table.

“Again, is it a surprise party?”

Mike shook his head. “I found this outside the file room. Checked in with Bill to see who’d brought it in. He told me no one signed for it.”

“It was inside the precinct?!” Stan stared at the two of them. “Are you kidding me? That is the last place someone should be dropping clues. Both of you, go tell everyone to keep their eyes open, not until they catch this guy. I’ve let you people watch my child, come on!”

“Sorry about that,” Richie made his way into the conference room, looking more determined than he had a few moments ago. “And Chief, I was told to tell you there was a reporter on the phone in your office. Something about a statement.”

“Oh, he’s getting a statement,” Stan sighed. “Please solve this, Mr. Tozier. Please.”

Eddie watched him leave, not envious of the position his boss was in. Belch began to unwrap the package on the table now that Richie was there. The guy gave Eddie the creeps, but he seemed to know what he was doing. Richie hand his arms crossed, but his fingers were dancing out a melody on his elbows. More than even, Eddie hoped he’d crack this case. He’d heard others broke before after failing and he didn’t want that to happen to Richie.

“What the fuck is that?” he screeched when the wrapping paper came off to reveal a cage with vermin and a time hanging from the wire.

“It’s a mouse, Edster,” Richie deadpanned. “I had one as a kid for a while.”

“He’s taped the clue on top,” Belch interrupted, pulling off a laminated sheet. “Another riddle for you, Richie.”

“Is he using alphabet noodles?” Ben asked.

Belch showed them the paper. “Mouse food. It’s a photograph. Meet my little buddy Gus. Pitter patter is your hint. If you can’t remember when, just read the fine print.”

“How much time do I have for this one?”

Eddie looked at the dangling watch, scrunching up his nose at the mouth. “Fifty-nine minutes.”

“Richie, is there a way you can speak to it?” Bev asked.

Eddie scoffed. Three years and she was still buying he was psychic. Yes, it was freaky but there had to be some explanation for how Tozier did his thing. “He can’t.”

“Yes, he can,” Ben countered. “He’s the psychic.”

“He is standing right here and all of you are bringing in a lot of negative energy,” Richie yawned. “Just give me a minute.”

“Whatever, Doctor Doolittle,” Eddie muttered.

Richie smirked. “Eddie, I know you can do better than that.”

~~~

              Richie stared at the mouse, trying to figure out what the clue meant. It was hard with everyone staring at him again and the beeping of the timer. Thankfully, Ben came to his aide and started doing his best audition for the Ministry of Silly Walks. While they were watching him make a fool of himself, it gave Richie the time to think. Still, nothing was coming to him.

“Pitter patter is the clue,” Belch said, leaning down on the other side of the table to meet Richie’s face. “Maybe you’re not supposed to speak to the mouse. What if it’s supposed to speak to you?”

Weird advice, but then again, he was working with a man called Belch. Richie sighed and watched Gus the mouse scurry around. His feet dislodged the little flakes, exposing part of a newspaper and its text.

Fine print.

“Oh, this little fucker,” Richie chuckled, pulling the top of the cage off. “Eddie, take the mouse.”

“Do you know how many diseases that thing could be carrying?”

“I got him,” Belch scooped up Gus. “Hello there, my little furry friend.”

Richie let Belch keep cooing to the mouse as he pulled up the newspaper liner. “He was walking on the fine print.”

“Then the next clue is there,” Bev stopped when she saw the page Richie had pulled out. “In the Classifieds. This could be a while.”

“But you have a psychic to read the energy of the printed names and find the important ones,” Richie countered, holding the paper up and putting a hand to his head. “Oh hey, Ben! Betty Ripsom seeks Lenjamin Handsome to love her tender. Your ex made it!”

“Not going down that road again.”

“Don Hagarty selling black snake, will go fast…”

“Those are people from your past cases,” Belch said, the mouse running along his shoulder now. “I did tell you I did my research.”

“I will not doubt you again, my good man,” Richie nodded and then looked back through the paper, scanning all the ads. “Snarky psychic seeks ferroequinologist for help with killer smile. Really? Of all the words to call me, he’s picking snarky? Lame.”

“Ferroequinologist,” Eddie murmured. “A ferroquinologist is a train enthusiast.”

Ben whipped his head towards him. “How do you know that?”

“I happen to be one actually.”

“No kidding,” Ben pointed to himself. “Same.”

“And I as well,” Belch added.

Richie had no idea what was going on, but these three clearly knew what was going on. At least he and Bev were both confused as hell with these two.

“The ‘love her tender’…tender is a small fuel car.”

Belch nodded. “Black snake is slang for coal train.”

“And there is a coal train that runs through Derry,” Ben finished.

They had their next location.

~~~

“You should have told me that we were running!” Richie shouted as he and Ben chased the coal train.

“We ran out of the station before I remembered!” Ben shouted back. “I forgot it was a pull through.”

“Dammit, Ben! But hey, look at us. We get to live out a hobo fantasy!”

Ben laughed a little. “Hey, your phone is ringing!”

              Richie pulled it out, slowing his run a little so he didn’t drop the phone. It was Carter calling about their date tonight. He was thrilled about it even though it was bad timing. Unfortunately, Carter still hadn’t forgotten how Richie had chickened out of taking him to homecoming and was suspecting he was being stood up. He was right about them chasing a serial killer, even if it did come out sarcastic.

“Ben can vouch for me! Ben, tell Carter what’s happening!”

Ben grabbed the phone Richie held out. “Hey, Carter. It’s Ben. We’re chasing a train like hobos.”

They gained a little more ground on the train before he pushed the phone back to Richie. “He wants to talk to you.”

              Carter thought it was another excuse that Richie was doing. He confessed that he was worried about high school happening again. Richie promised to call him back, and that it wasn’t a repeat of the past just as they reached an open car. Ben managed to hoist himself up first, then outstretched a hand to help Richie on.

“Your hobo fantasy sucks,” Ben coughed as they crawled inside and found the envelope and timer. “What does this dick want us to do now?”

Richie cracked open the yellow envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. The letters were white and blue this time. There were some red smears on the paper as well that made his stomach turn.

“A moving picture is worth a thousand words, so read the story and follow the birds? Once you’re there, you’ll hear a phone. You have eight rings to pick up or the girl is dead. Shame on me, that didn’t even rhyme.”

“I hope that’s just jam,” Ben groaned as he pulled out a packet of pictures from inside the envelope. “He’s given you these this time too. We have twenty-seven minutes to get this one right.”

“Great, no pressure,” he muttered, placing out all the photos to try and find a pattern. But nothing stood out.

“Anything?”

“No…wait,” Richie crawled over and peeked out the open door. “Actually, yes. Come see this.”

Ben peered his head out and saw Belch jogging beside the train, sweaty and panting. “I can’t believe this.”

~~~

              Richie figured out that the clue was leading them to the pier. The Clown Killer had taken a picture of Ben throwing away a wrapper just after lunch right by it. They had been walking to Ben’s car and this fuckwad had been watching them. So they all loaded in Eddie’s car again once they all hopped off the train to get there. The man must have broken half a dozen laws to get them there. Richie had never loved him more.

              Again, he bolted out of the car before Eddie had even parked and was running with Ben towards the pier. People were all about, enjoying the sunshine. The timer had seven minutes left on it by the time they reached the midpoint. A phone had started to ring then, which Richie finally located to be under a bench. He nearly answered it on the fifth ring but stopped.

Why had it started ringing as soon as he got there?

So he threw the damn thing into the water, drawing horrified looks out of everyone.

“You better hope that man is still alive or you’re an accessory to murder,” Eddie said blankly.

Richie could barely hear him over the pounding of his heart. He really hoped he hadn’t fucked this up. But he was getting tired of this game, especially if someone was watching him.

“Richie?” Bev’s voice was filled with quiet anger. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because he’s watching us, Bev!” he snapped. “This thing wasn’t even ringing until I was five fucking feet away from…”

He could see the Psych office all the way from where he stood. It was far, but not too far away that he could miss the movement behind the glass.

“It,” he finished. “Ben, he’s in the office.”

“Richie- what?”

              He didn’t even wait for his best friend or try to explain before he started running again. Richie only looked back once to make sure that they were on his tail. His mother had told him earlier that the Clown Killer knew how to push someone’s buttons and hit people and things close to him. Up until now, it had been aggravating. Breaking and entering into Psych was making it more personal.

              Bev and Eddie caught up to him and kicked in the door. Guns out, they swept the place in search of the Clown Killer. However, he had slipped away from them. The binoculars by the window Richie had been looking at earlier were enough confirmation that he had been there. He had been watching and waiting so he could make that damn call.

“Richie, don’t touch a thing! He could have left prints!” Eddie called out after he slammed the binoculars in the trash.

“You won’t find any,” Belch murmured dreamily. “He’s too good for prints. But he probably touched everything in here to get to you.”

“You have way too much admiration for this psycho,” Bev snapped at him.

“You haven’t seen anything yet. He’s just getting warmed up.”

Richie covered his face, pushing his glasses up. He hated this, he hated this, he hated-

Ben patted his shoulder. Then Richie heard “Hey, everyone. Look how huge I am compared to this little Stormtrooper. He’s so tiny!”

“Will you get your shit together!” Eddie yelled. “What the hell, Hanscom?

Richie winked at him. “You gotta pull yourself together, man.”

Ben winked back.

“Oh, god,” Bev pulled down a photo above the one of him and Ben as children. “He was here. Is this the guy who served you this morning?”

Richie nodded as he saw the man who had served this morning tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth.

“Thank you,” Belch grabbed the frame and smashed it on Ben’s desk.

              Ben was about to shout at him, but a timer started beeping. Bev, who was closest to his desk, started owning up drawers and digging through them. Ben started helping her and Richie felt like he should help too. But it was like his feet were rooted to the ground. He just stood there, watching as Bev finally pulled it out and shut it off.

“He’s left another clue,” Belch turned the picture over, showing Richie the gagged waiter as he read. “You are a naught naughty boy. Since when did you decide to play coy? But back to the station, you get another shot. But mess with me again and-”

“STOP!” Richie shouted. “Just…stop it. I’m done.”

“Richie-” Bev tried.

“Don’t. I’m sick and tired of him running us all around. I’m out. I did all this shit for him, and I’m done. Finished. Finito.”

“Because no one has ever gotten this far with him. He’s keeping the game going a sign of respect.”

“Then you can tell him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine, Belch! After all, it’s not like we can win. You were the one who said he’s too good!”

Richie dropped into one of the chairs by the window. “We never had a shot, did we? He’s just going to kill that guy, isn’t he?”

“Tozier…” Eddie started, then paused. “Richie, you don’t just give up.”

“He’s not calling you out personally,” Richie hissed. “He is not coming into your life and picking up all these little pieces of things you thought were in the past and taunting you with them. He’s coming for me. So just…don’t right now. I’m done. Get out.”

“What?”

“I said get out!” Richie screamed. “You three! Ben stays, but all of you get out! Now!”

Bev glared at him. “Screw you, Tozier. You want to quit now, fine! We’ll still find him.”

“And good luck with that!” he shouted as she marched out with Belch, leaving Eddie staring at him with sad eyes.

“Maybe I don’t believe you’re psychic, but I believed you could solve this,” Eddie told him. “Guess I was wrong about believing in you.”

With that, he headed out the door. Richie sank back into his seat. He was exhausted.

“So now what?” Ben asked. “Are we really out?”

Richie shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…he’s the one in control right now. Everyone who plays by his rules loses. The only chance we have now is to change the rules on him, and I tried to do that. He could have killed the waiter, but he didn’t. He still wants to play and he gave us another try. If we’re out, then he’s not watching us anymore.”

Ben grinned. “Smart. I thought you were really pissed off at them.”

“I kinda was. This psycho is awful, but he’s not watching us. So let’s do what we do- go off the book to investigate.”

“Sounds like a plan. Hey, was I too much with the Stormtrooper?”

Richie cackled for what felt like the first time in hours. “Your best work ever. Now let’s go. We’ve gotten through the hard part. It can’t get any worse.”

~~~

It could, in fact, get worse.

              An hour after he’d ‘quit’ the game, Richie got a phone call from Bev telling them to come to the Derry Inn. Apparently, they’d found the waiter’s car parked outside just as Richie talked with the staff and found out the car was missing. Eddie, Bev, and Belch were already waiting by the time Ben drove him there. Richie was barely able to ask what had happened before they started leading him upstairs. Bev explained on the way that the next clue had been directed towards Eddie and he’d managed to figure it out the location and room number of the next clue.

Inside the room was the waiter, tied to a chair with his head slack.

Bev rushed over and placed her fingers on his neck. “Still breathing. Get that gag out of his mouth.”

“It’s paper,” Eddie grimaced as he extracted it. “It’s the next clue. Richie no longer wants to play. Are my stakes too low to make you stay?”

Richie was confused and he started looking around the room. There was a creepy clown portrait on a closet door made with items that probably came from a woman’s purse. Said purse was lying on the table next to the television. The cold ice feeling was back as Richie remembered seeing that bag with his mother when she came to try and talk him out of the case.

The Clown Killer had upped the stakes and taken his mom.

“No,” he uttered. “He took my mom, Ben.”

Ben covered his mouth for a moment before dropping his hand down to his side. “That son of a bitch.”

“He took my mom,” Richie repeated, sinking into a chair. He’d spend most of his life resenting her for being so absorbed in her work. She’d been making the steps to be better, actually have a relationship with him. And now this son of a bitch had taken her.

Stan was now entering the room. “I just checked down at the front desk, where’s Mr. Tozier?”

“He knows already,” Eddie spoke up. “The killer took his mother.”

The other man’s face sank. “Richie, we’re going to find her.”

“We have to,” Richie ran his hands down his face. “He upped the game to bring me back in.”

“Richie,” Bev stuck her head out of the bathroom. “You need to get in here.”

“Coming.”

Stan patted Richie on the shoulder. “I’m sending some officers to keep an eye on your father. Anyone else we should know about who could be in danger?”

“Everyone I care about is here,” Richie mumbled as Eddie walked past him. “But…Carter Han. I have a date with him tonight. If the Clown Killer goes for him-”

“We won’t let him.”

“Yeah,” Richie nodded, entering the bathroom to find Eddie, Ben, Bev, and Belch already inside. “Thought it was only girls who traveled to the bathroom in packs, guys?”

“Richie,” Ben began, pointing to the mirror with a message written on it in red.

Oh no…

“It’s lipstick,” Eddie said quickly beside him. “Your mother’s fine. He just decided to get creative.”

“You should be moving, as most people do,” Belch read. “But instead you sit and enjoy the Vu. P.S. Mommy says hi and bye. Just in case.”

Eddie was shaking, holding a clenched fist. Richie half suspected he’d smash the mirror. Bad luck could suck it.

“Any of you happen to know what V-U would be?” Stan asked them.

“We solved a case for a spelling bee once after a kid with that surname passed out,” Ben told him. “But he’s from Michigan.”

              Richie inhaled and closed his eyes, thinking back over the day. The clown stickers on all the envelopes. Gus the mouse. The classifieds. There had been an ad for a drive-in movie place. Cinema Vue, but the e had been crossed out.

“Well, thank god he’s not going to ruin the arcade for me,” Richie sighed. “But I know where he is. Was there a timer anywhere?”

Bev and Eddie shook their heads.

“Then we need to hurry,” Belch said. “He set no timer. The sun’s going down. I think he’s ready for the endgame.”

~~~

              It was dark by the time the group arrived at the drive-in lot. Mike and Bill had joined the party, along with Richie’s father. Richie had managed to remember the keys from his mother’s purse when he spoke to earlier to identify the car, so they at least had that. But that was their only clue.

              He must have spent five minutes running through the rows and jumping on cars before he finally found the car. Slowly, Richie approached it, spotting his mother in the side mirror. There was tape over Maggie Tozier’s mouth and she looked remarkably calm. As he approached the open window, he saw a sign around her neck.

“Mama says pretty please, don’t squeeze!”

Richie stepped back and got a better look. The back headrest was gone and there was a red dot on the back of her neck.

“Richard?”

“Dad,” Richie didn’t take his eyes off his mom. “Be quiet and get down.”

For once in his life, his father actually seemed to listen and not argue with the instruction. “What’s going on?”

Bev and Eddie were hurrying towards them along the row, but Richie pointed to the red dot. It traced all the way back to the house where the movie was rolling. The two detectives set off in search of that, but this felt too easy for the Clown Killer. But he needed to talk to his mother to see if there was more.

“Mom, I’m going to take the tape off now,” he told her. “Hold still.”

Once it was off, she didn’t look at him. “That one’s a decoy.”

“I figured, but-” Richie processed her words. “What do you mean that one?”

Her eyes trailed down to the box of popcorn on her lap. Richie followed her gaze. Buried in the kernels was something blinking and red.

“Richard!” his father hissed. “What’s happening?”

Richie exhaled slowly. “She’s strapped to a bomb.”

Wentworth’s shoulders sank. “Oh god, no, Richie.”

“I’m going to fix this,” he promised, then looked back to his mother. “Mom, is he here?”

She nodded, her eyes moving to the left. Richie stood up and looked in that direction. There was a space for cars to drive up, but just past that was a car with open windows and a man with a mullet seated in the driver’s seat. As if he could feel Richie watching him, he turned and smiled. He waved a small remote back and forth tauntingly, then beckoned Richie towards the car.

~~~

The car was cleaner than Richie has expected from a serial killer once he got inside.

“Hello, Richie,” the Clown Killer greeted. “I see you finally solved all of my clues.”

Richie didn’t show any expression, even though he wanted to throttle the shit out of him for putting him through that all day. “I won. I beat you. Now let my mother go.”

The man chuckled. “Most people introduce themselves first. I’m Henry Bowers. Nice to meet you.”

Richie glared at him.

“You’ve really been something,” Bowers told him. “I think you might be my most admirable foe. Then again, I knew you would be. I’ve been reading the papers, Mr. Psychic.”

“Great, glad to know I set a record in the most fucked up game ever,” Richie fired back. “But this is your last game, dipshit. This whole place is surrounded with SWAT. There is no way you’re making an escape.”

Bowers snorted. “I’ll admit the game is at an end. But I’m not done yet.”

“Why not? You about to give me some Hannibal Lecter bullshit?”

“I can try and drop something,” Bowers pointed at the movie. “You know what’s great about this movie? It has a solid resolution. These days, everyone always wants a sequel, always wants to know more. But the best movies are the ones that tie up all the loose ends. I’m like that.”

“You’re a serial killer. What does that have to do with movies?”

“Maybe I am a killer. But I also complete things. That’s what everyone wants- completion. Now the story we’ve made, you versus me, is going to end. The question is how.”

Richie spotted Eddie in the mirror. He wanted so bad for this all to end, but Bowers still had the remote that could kill his mother. He gave the barest shake of his head and hoped Eddie could see it. Thankfully, he did and motioned for SWAT to stand down.

“I know how it ends,” Richie told Bowers. “You in a cell with white walls. Or out in a blaze of glory. A serial killer cliché either way.”

Bowers laughed. “You do realize I could have killed Mommy Dearest hours ago, Richie. This switch has such a light touch. It’s like a house of cards. One touch and BOOM!”

Richie jerked back, making the killer laugh.

“Now how much fun would that be to see? It’s been so hard not to flick it, I just want to see it so badly. But then you would have been furious with me. And I can’t have that because we’ll see each other again.”

“No fucking way,” Richie shook his head. “Enjoy your last breaths of fresh air because you and your ugly-ass mullet are going right into a padded cell after all this. That’s the end.”

“Of the beginning,” Bowers grinned. “I think I’ll write a book about this. It’ll be a bestseller. You want to write a foreword.”

“Fuck no.”

Bowers shrugged. “Too bad. But keep it in mind on your date later. If you can still do it after me.”

He passed the switch to Richie. Game over.

              Richie wasted no time in bolting out of the car and shouting for them to take the Clown Killer. Henry Bowers smiled calmly as the police and SWAT came rushing in. Richie watched his father pull his mother out of the car and handed the switch over. He handed the switch over to Stan before Ben came running over.

“Richie, I-oof!”

Ben stumbled back at the force of the hug Richie tackled with before hugging him back. “Hey, man. You did it.”

“I did it,” Richie repeated. “He had a fucking mullet.”

“A mullet? Really? I saw a guy with one of those earlier today. It’s the twenty-first century.”

              As the police lead Henry to a car, Richie thought back on the day. He had seen him before. Behind a newspaper at the restaurant. Sitting behind a desk in the precinct. Walking past them in the Derry Inn’s lobby. Taking pictures as they’d been walking past the pier. All day long, he’d been following them.

“He was watching us all day…”

Richie staggered a little, but Ben grabbed hold of his shoulders.

“Richie, breathe. You got him. He’s going away. We’re okay now.”

“Congratulations, Richie,” Belch said, strolling up beside them. “You outsmarted the Clown Killer.”

“Go me,” he muttered.

“I’ve spent the last thirteen years of my life with this person. He was my whole purpose. Now I need to find a new one.”

Ben looked over at him. “Have you considered squash?”

Belch shook his head.

“Give it a shot. I’ll pay a game with you sometime.”

“Thank you, Ben. I’ll see you around.”

“Until next time then,” he said, offering them a limp handshake and adjusted his baseball cap before walking off.

“I hope he’s wrong,” Richie shuddered. “I don’t want to touch this case again.”

“Me neither. But you got through it. You’re stronger than you think, man.”

~~~

“So do I get an explanation for why you were acting like a jackass today?”

Ben snorted as he approached Bev sitting on the hood of Eddie’s car. “I was kind of a jackass, huh?”

“Big time.”

Ben chuckled as he walked over to her. “I don’t know if this will do any good, but I was doing it to help Richie. Be the humor so he could focus on the case.”

“Ahhhh,” Bev nodded, smiling in understanding. “You were being a good friend.”

“A good best friend, and I try to be.”

“Well, you were there for him today. He really needed someone. I can’t imagine going through that…having a serial killer taunt me. Dangling the life of someone I love right in front of me.”

A horrific scenario that would never happen flashed before Ben’s eyes. “Me neither.”

“But the Clown Killer’s gone now,” Bev sighed, sliding off the hood and grinding a cigarette butt under her heel.

“He is. Hey, can I get a ride back with you and Eddie?”

“What about your car?”

“Richie has a date and he intends to see it through.”

Bev gaped. “He has a date?”

“Yup.”

“Well, you can absolutely ride back with us,” Bev told him. “Eddie’s just inside. Said something about having to go to the bathroom, but I bet he’s talking to Richie. He hates bathrooms in movie theaters.”

“It’s a drive-in.”

“Which counts as a movie theater.”

“Ooo and there’s where we have to disagree, Detective Marsh.”

“Oh really?” Bev grinned. “Now I have to hear your reasons for why a drive-in is different than a move theater.”

~~~

“Richie?”

Richie looked up from the tray of goodies he’d gotten for his and Carter’s date. He had been worried that Carter was going to not come, but apparently the Clown Killer story had broken the news and Carter had called to see that he was okay. He also apologized for thinking Richie was trying to cancel on him, so that helped. It would be another few minutes before he was set to arrive, but Richie wanted things to be perfect.

And now Eddie was here, dressed in civilian clothes and looked nervous.

“Eddie?” Richie nearly speared his hand with a straw. “Hey, what are you doing here? Thought you and Bev were going to go Hannibal Lecter his ass. Straightjacket? Grilled face mask? Rent of one of those dollies for transport and all.”

Eddie snorted. “There’s an entire precinct fighting for that job. I’ll take the next one.”

“Cool, cool, cool. So…you’re here because…?”

Eddie walked a little closer. “I wanted to tell you that you were…really great today. Incredible, actually. I couldn’t even imagine functioning like that, especially with your mom’s life on the line like that. I know things are rocky with you too and I’m proud of you for that.”

“Probably a good thing he didn’t go after your mom,” Richie shrugged. “Or your ex.”

“Ha ha,” Eddie laughed sarcastically. “Look, I know this is probably the worst timing that I can have for this. But I was thinking after Bowers got taken away about how I could have lost you if we didn’t win. That scared me a lot. I know we butt heads and banter, but I really like spending time with you. Both on the clock and off it. Like when you tried to help Bev throw me a birthday party.”

“That was still your fault for keeping that book.”

“A lot of cops keep books like that,” Eddie shot back. “But you’re getting me off track. You still showed you cared about me in a way that I’m not used to. A really healthy way. Thinking about losing that and you tonight made me think a lot. Because I am scared about losing you. I know you and Ben are probably about to see a movie, but…can I take you to dinner instead?”

Richie felt his heart sink. “Detective Kaspbrak, are you asking me out on a date?”

“That was the intention.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Richie sighed. “I cannot believe this. You really do have the worst timing.”

Eddie looked freaked out. “What?”

“I can’t go on a date with you…because I’m about to go on one.”

“You’re-what?”

As if on cue, Carter walked into the lobby. Richie and Eddie turned to look at him, then back at each other.

“Then- then you can forget everything I just said,” Eddie backed up. “I had no idea, I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow, Tozier.”

“See you…” Richie tried to say, but Eddie was already speed walking out of the lobby, nearly running into Carter on the way.

“Whoa, he is in a hurry!” Carter remarked as he reached Richie. “Hey, how are you?”

Richie watched Eddie run out of the doors and towards his car. Ben and Bev were standing by it, and Richie could imagine Eddie yelling at Bev to get off the hood.

“Richie?” Carter asked. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I thought I was going to be the one stood up this time.”

#it #psych #au #areyouscarletcold #fanfiction #richie tozier #ben hanscom #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #stanley uris #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #happy birthday

[salutmonmec]

EVEN THE DEAD DESERVE A SONG

an Elu Hunger Games AU

ao3 link

Lucas has been in love with the same boy since he was five years old. 

Now, he will be forced to fight him to the death.

What a fucking nightmare.

CHAPTER 1: THINGS FALL APART

… He is underwater.

It’s cold.

He’s sinking.

The surface isn’t far, and he can make out a blurry figure. They lift their arms, draw their elbow back until their hand hits their jaw.

An arrow breaks the surface, clips his ear. A cloud of red erupts on his left side. He can’t swim, never learned how. The elbow draws back again.

He is sinking in a sea of blood.

His mouth opens in a silent scream.

Lucas wakes with a gasp, jerking upright, a hand against his chest where his heart is about to burst from his ribcage. What the hell was that? The bright afternoon sun is beaming down on his nap spot, lighting the grass up to neon green and forcing him to squint. Lucas could not have been asleep for more than a half hour, but the troubling nature of his dream made it feel like years. He stands with a groan, joints popping. He gathers up his make-shift bow and slings the quiver over his shoulder. Only two or three more hours of light left, have to make this quick. A stick breaks about twenty meters to the right, followed by the sound of frantic hooves. Before he can help himself, a smirk splits his face. Perfect.

----

The buck’s head lands on the booth counter with a hollow thud, still bleeding a bit through the new hole in its left eye. Lucas rests his head on his arms, gently poking the soft fur of the beast’s ribcage. The booth’s owner, Ben, slowly gets up from his chair, flashing a wide gap-filled smile. He is on the skinny side, just like everyone else in District 12, cheeks always smudged with some kind of dirt. Right now, his eyes are lit up like torches.

“How the hell did you manage this Lallemant? You are a crazy son of a bitch, I swear.”

Lucas shrugged casually, shooting Ben a grin. “I have my ways.”

“Well bud, I can give you… 26 ration cards, should almost last you the month.” He leans over the buck, bending to Lucas’ eye-level. “The capitol changed the color again, this time a nice, deep, I’m-richer-than-you purple. Go crazy kid.” Lucas reached over and slipped the small mountain of cards into his bag, mouthing Ben a silent thank you and giving him a quick wink.

He turns around, slamming right into the back of an asshole. Yann spins around, ready to curse out the offender, but Lucas gets there first, sticking a middle finger in between his eyes. Yann lets out a loud laugh, shoving Lucas away playfully. “Fuck you, you shithead!”

“Wanna walk me home honey bun?” Lucas wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, making Yann roll his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, I’ll be out in a minute,” he states with a half-hearted wave as he turns back to the person he was haggling with. Lucas grins at him, shouldering open the door to the warehouse. Cool air hits him like a wave, the breeze lifting his hair off his forehead, drying the budding sweat on his skin. Peacekeepers march past him, their white uniforms glowing in the twilight. Who the fuck wears white in a place like this? Lucas looks down at his own clothes, torn and tattered from years of use. No matter how many times he tries to wash them, the black coal dust in the air finds its way into the seams. It’s as if the land wants to brand him, making sure that everyone knows where he comes from. You come from the dark, dank depths of the Earth, where no one ventures besides those who were unfortunate enough to be born into it. Never forget that.

A laugh shakes him out of his thoughts, head snapping up to find the source of the sound. A small head of tawny curls bouncing, a gap-toothed smile on her round, freckled face. Madeline Demaury, sitting on the shoulders of her big brother, laughter bubbling its way out of her mouth as he dramatically pretends to drop her. Eliott spins in a quick circle, his face now fully towards Lucas. God, he is beautiful. His blue-grey eyes are curled up in half-moons, mouth open, catching the tail end of a chuckle. His happiness is contagious, and Lucas finds himself struggling to hold back a smile. The setting sun is lighting up the Demaurys’ hair to an infuriatingly gorgeous shade of auburn. He pushes a flyaway strand of his straight, boring brunette locks away from his eye, cursing his bad genetic luck. At least he was fortunate enough to be alive at this very moment, witnessing the striking beauty of Eliott Demaury’s cheekbones, his long legs, shoulders deceptively broad despite his lanky figure. Fuck, he is beautiful.

“So, are you ever actually going to talk to him, or are you just going to stand there drooling all over yourself for the rest of your life?”

Yann’s strong hand lands on the shoulder that isn’t leaning against the warehouse wall. Lucas doesn’t take his eyes off Eliott. “Fuck you.”

As Yann snickers next to him, Eliott and Madeline sit down on their front porch steps. The front door behind them opens, and out runs seven-year-old Camille, launching herself into the lap of her brother. Eliott scoops her up, whispering in her tiny ear, making her giggle and nod enthusiastically. He sets her down, grabs her hand, leading her and Madeline inside the house. As the door shuts behind them, Lucas’ chest twists with a feeling he can’t place. He slowly turns, shoves Yann playfully. “What the hell are you so cheery about? You know what’s tomorrow right?”

“I for one, am not going to let the threat of imminent death stop me from roasting my best friend. What kind of life would that be?” He says with an easy smile, slinging an arm around Lucas’ shoulders. “Let’s get the fuck out of here before the Keeps’ come back.”

Lucas shoots one last look at the Demaury’s porch. The sun is fully behind the trees now, casting long shadows that flutter across the closed door, which, much to Lucas’ amusement, is painted a bright shade of baby blue. In this light, the house could have been abandoned, the warmth of Eliott’s presence long gone. Turning back towards Yann, his chest twists again, heart rising in his throat, threatening to choke him. Why do I feel like this is the last time I’ll see this?

----

An alarm blares ridiculously too close to his face. Cracking one eye open, he flops his arm across his body, slamming his hand in the direction of the obnoxious dinging. The clock slides off the edge of the table, hitting the floor with a loud thud. Still ringing, of course. Fucking hell. Lucas rolls his half-asleep body into sitting position, squinting at the light breaking through the cracks in his blinds, stopping the alarm with a half-hearted kick.

It’s Reaping Day.

Pushing himself off the tattered mattress, he sees his Reaping shirt, a blue-denim button up that he never really grew into, laid out on the end of the bed. Its folded, freshly washed and pressed. His mom must have been up for a while now. Throwing on a pair of faded black pants, he tugs the shirt on, slowly buttoning the front, shaking his head as the sleeves drop past his wrists. Frustrated, he rolls them up to mid-forearm. As a kid, he always thought his Dad was larger than life. Now at sixteen, he is starting to think he may have actually been right.

Walking to the bedroom door, he stops in front of the broken mirror to its right. Eyes a little too big, hair a little too wild, shoulders a little too slim. He rubs at a small bit of dirt on his neck, spits in his hand and tries to push his hair back into something resembling a normal human. His Dad’s shirt is hanging loosely on his frame, but he doesn’t mind. Everyone wears the wrong size clothes to the Reaping, spending money on extra ration cards rather than fancy shirts that will only be worn seven times in their life.

A rattle in the kitchen grabs his attention. Mama. She is scrubbing aggressively at a pot, the edges clanking against the edges of the small sink. She sees him in her periphery, turns her head and flashes him a warm smile. “You ready to go?”

He purses his lips, shoulders moving in a small shrug, “as ready as I can be, I guess.”

She sets the pot down, walks over to gently press a kiss to his forehead. “Only two more years, then we can move past this whole mess.” Glancing over his face, she wets her thumb and starts rubbing at a spot above his eyebrow. A laugh bubbles its way out his mouth as he scrunches up his face, shaking his head. “Mama, stop its fine,” he shoots a pointed glance at the small television set in the corner, “want me to get it set up for you?”

She waves him off. “Oh no, I got it.” She looks at him with a small, sad smile. “You know I would go, I just think the crowds would be a bit much for me today…” Lucas glances at the dark circles marring the smooth skin under her eyes, and nods. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“I’ll be fine darling,” she kisses him on the forehead for the second time, lips popping with a loud smack. “Say hello to Yann for me!”

Sliding into his shoes, he pushes through the front door, Yann leaning against the railing at the bottom of the steps. His shirt fits him perfectly. Asshole.

“Let’s get this fucking over with, shall we?”

----

A large bead of sweat makes it way slowly down the back of his neck, tickling his skin as it catches in his collar. It’s getting close to midday, the sun huge and deadly in the sky. The stage is in the middle of a giant dirt patch, no tree in sight to provide some semblance of shade. Everyone between the ages of 12 and 18 in the entire district are being herded into the stage space. The fine, dark dirt getting kicked up by hundreds of shoes, swirling in the air like smoke. Yann and him are stuck in the identification line, waiting for a finger prick and a drop of blood to confirm that yes, they are in fact, Lucas Lallemant and Yann Cazas. He is trying to distract himself by staring intensely at a rock on the ground that looks sort of like a fish, when someone trips into him. Not just someone, a big someone. Lucas puts out a hand to steady himself, his other one landing on the waist of the offender before he can stop it.

“SHIT I’m so sorry…” Eliott rushes out, head whipping frantically from side to side, “Camille still needs to learn that running through people’s legs is not proper Reaping Day etiquette.” His blue eyes finally settle on Lucas. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Say something. Anything. Oh God. He nods instead, not trusting his mouth. His left hand is still on Eliott’s waist, but he can’t seem to make it move. Eliott’s gaze is warm, softly flickering back and forth across Lucas’ face. His cheeks betray him then, flushing so intensely it’s almost painful. Eliott’s mouth breaks into a smirk, eyes playful as he gently backs away, turning in the direction of Camille’s giggles. Lucas’ arm settles back down at his side, hand tingling like a live wire. He watches until Eliott’s head disappears into the crowd, trying to settle the rapid beat of his heart.

“Oh wow, are you gonna be okay bud? Do you need me to give you CPR?” Yann snickers, clapping a hand hard in between Lucas’ shoulder blades. His cheeks are even warmer now. “If you don’t talk to him after this is over, then I will.”

His brain finally starts to register his surroundings again, and he turns to give Yann a hard shove, grinning despite himself. “If you go near him, I’ll shoot you in the foot, I swear to God.”

After the quick finger prick and a few more snide comments about his love life, they shuffle their way into the section marked “16”. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the top of a messy head of tawny hair, standing in the middle of the eighteen-year-old section that is marked off closest to the stage. His hand feels like it’s buzzing. Get it together Lucas.

At that moment, the crowd of teens were hushed, and the familiar dramatic tune of the national anthem blaring through the crackling speakers. Footage showing the war plays on the big screen, hard to see in the midst of the blinding sunlight. The president’s booming voice narrates, explaining the origin of the games, why it makes sense that they have been sending twenty-four kids to the fight to the death for twenty-seven years. Yann pokes his side, sending him an eye-roll. Lucas raises his eyebrows, a smirk dancing on his lips.

The film ends, and silence follows. A chair moves on stage, heels click on the hard surface. Hurried clacks echo through the space, and a woman hustles up to the microphone, one hand holding up the massive pile of blonde curls on top of her head. Daphné Lecomte. The Capitol representative for District 12 for the past few years, although she could not be older than twenty-five.

“Jesus, I swear her hair gets bigger every year,” Yann whispers in his ear with a breathy laugh. Lucas coughs to hide a chuckle, garnering looks from a boy and girl standing in front of them. He grins down at the ground while Yann elbows him in the ribs.

“Welcome everyone, to the Reaping for the 27th Annual Hunger Games!” Daphné says enthusiastically, her ridiculous Capitol accent extremely apparent. “As always, we are here to choose the two people who will have the historic honor of representing District 12 in- “ A strong wind gust sweeps up the stage, threatening to topple her hair tower. She steadies herself, tugging down on her neon pink skirt, “ i-in this year’s games!” She claps her hands together in excitement, gesturing over to someone on the side of the stage.

Emma Borgès saunters over to Daphné, clearly already wasted out of her mind. It isn’t even noon yet. She stumbles over her own feet, falling right into Daphné, who tries to gracefully push her upright. Emma gives the crowd a fumbling, slow salute, then takes her place next to the bowl of names at the center of the stage, swaying lightly on her feet.

The only District 12 champion in history. She won when she was just thirteen, outliving everyone thanks to her affinity for climbing trees. The spectators of the 20th games decided the killings weren’t going fast enough, so they flooded the area. Nineteen tributes had already been killed or died from the terrain, the last four drowned in the flood. Little Emma had been high up in a tree at the time, making her one of the youngest victors of all time. She was never really the same after that, spending most of her days getting drunk at the single district bar once she turned eighteen. Now every year, the two unlucky tributes not only have to fight to the death, but also deal with a drunk Emma Borgès as their mentor. What a fucking joke. Yann always had a massive crush on her though. He sneaks a glance over at Yann, who is openly staring at her with a dumb smile on his face. Idiot.

Daphné shuffles her way over to the glass bowl, struggling to drag the microphone with her. She smooths her skirt once more when she is settled. “Alright, let’s begin!”

She peers down into the large glass bowl, filled almost halfway with name cards. Every single person in this room has their name in there at least once. The twelve-year-olds are placed in only one time, and every year older is another slip added. When you are eighteen, your name is in the bowl seven times, making it more likely that an older tribute is picked. This ultimately makes the games more enjoyable for viewers, as a bunch of scared little kids running around would prove to be boring television after a while. You can add your name more times in exchange for ration cards, which is what most families end up doing in District 12. He had heard a rumor that Eliott’s name was in the bowl 32 times, but he hoped desperately that it was exaggerated.

Daphné’s pink-gloved hand reaches in slowly, swirling the cards around, trying to build anticipation. Lucas’ chest tightens, his forehead beading with sweat. Twelve cards with your name on it. That’s it. Only twelve. Daphné finally latches on to one, lifting her hand out of the bowl with a flourish. The crowd unconsciously leans forward, watching with wide eyes as she struggles to open the seal with her gloves on. The card rips open, and she clears her throat, lips approaching the microphone.

He knows before she even gets the words out. Her tongue pushes against her bottom teeth as her mouth opens, forming the beginning of the “L” sound.

Time slows down.

His chest heaves.

This can’t be happening.

He doesn’t even hear her say it, barely registers the echo of the ending syllable. He sees Yann’s shoulders collapse inward with a shuddering breath. His feet move before his mind catches up, walking with slow steps into the aisle leading up to the stage. Two peacekeepers walk up behind him, one placing a hard hand on his shoulder. They push him forward, his body refusing to move at anything above a glacial pace. He shoots a frantic glance back at Yann, who is staring at him with wide eyes, shoulders lifting up and down with the beginnings of hyperventilation. Lucas steels his eyes, desperately hoping Yann can read him. It’s okay... I’ll be okay. Yann nods imperceptibly, only for Lucas. A tiny pang of relief overshadows the crippling panic for a brief second.

His leaden feet move up the stage steps, and he moves to stand beside Daphné. She wraps her arms around him in a light hug, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Lucas! Well, aren’t you a strapping young lad! Now, how old are you sweetie?”

She moves the microphone in front of his face.

He can’t breathe.

He clears his throat.

“Sixteen.”

Sixteen, and I am going to die in a week.

Daphné claps her hands together again, snapping Lucas out of his thoughts. “Let’s give a round of applause for the courageous Lucas! The first District 12 tribute of the 27th Hunger Games!”

No one in the crowd moves a muscle. Dead silence.

“O-Okay then!” She clears her throat. “On to the second tribute!”

As she reaches in the bowl again, Lucas lifts his chin high, surveying the sea of young faces staring back at him. His heart is in his throat. He lands last on a pair of blue-grey eyes, wide and stricken under dark eyebrows, mouth closed in a tight line. Eliott. The realization suddenly dawned on him, there is still one tribute left. Oh God please anyone but him, please… oh God ple-

“Madeline Demaury!”

And God decided to laugh in his face.

There were a few gasps from the crowd. It’s exceedingly rare for a twelve-year-old to get drawn. Even more so a girl. The kids in the “12” section start to murmur to themselves, parting to reveal Madeline, her curls braided away from her face at her temples, showcasing her wide eyes and rosy, freckled cheeks. She straightened her pale green dress as the Peacekeepers appeared on either side to bring her up to the stage, pushing her shoulders back, putting on a brave face. From his spot on stage, he could see that her right shoe was untied. She is so young.

Before she can take her first step, Eliott shoves his way out of his section, landing on his knees in the center aisle, a cloud of dirt huffing into the air as he scrambles to his feet. He moves toward Madeline, but Keepers jump into action, pulling his arms behind his back, keeping him rooted to the spot. Lucas watches, horrified, as Eliott struggles against their grip. He manages to rip one arm free before a third Peacekeeper latches on to him. “Let me go! Get tHE FUCK OFF OF M-” He whips himself around, trying to face the stage despite the vice grip on his wrists. He sends a murderous glare at Daphné.

“I VOLUNTEER!”

“I volunteer as tribute.”

This can’t be happening. Wake up Lucas, WAKE UP. He digs his fingernails into his palms, drawing blood.

He is awake.

This is real.

Daphné is still standing next to the bowl, mouth open in shock. She quickly closes it, and makes a gesture to the Peacekeepers. They release Eliott, pushing him forward, and he falls onto his knees with the force. Madeline cries out, squirming out of the Keeper’s grip on her shoulder, and launches herself into her brother’s arms. Lucas can see Eliott’s lips move at her ear, and she starts sobbing, holding him tighter. The Peacekeepers come up behind her, pulling her out of his arms, dragging her away. Her screams pierce through deafening silence, filling up the space, cutting deep into Lucas’ soul, suffocating him. Eliott gets shakily to his feet, eyes shining, and he walks with long strides up to the stage. He stops next to him. Lucas continues to stare ahead, afraid he wouldn’t be able to handle whatever expression settles on Eliott’s face.

“My goodness! This is so exciting! District 12’s first ever volunteer!” Daphné drags the microphone over to Eliott, holding it up to his lips. “What’s your name handsome?”

“Eliott Demaury.”

“Oh, let me guess, was that your adorable little sister?”

There is a beat of quiet as he swallows, clearly trying to restrain himself from slapping the hair straight off of Daphné’s head. Eliott’s eyes narrow as he leans down.

“Obviously.”

Daphné clears her throat. “W- Well, there you have it!” She squishes her way in between the two boys, grabbing both their hands and lifting them straight into the air, beaming with excitement. “A big cheer for the District 12 tributes of the 27th Hunger Games, Lucas Lallemant and Eliott Demaury!”

Maybe it was the heat that finally caught up to him. Maybe the vice grip around his chest finally cut off his oxygen supply. Maybe his brain short-circuited with the dawning realization that he was now in a fighting death match with who he thought was possibly the love of his life. Whatever it was, Lucas’ body couldn’t take it anymore. His right hand slides out of Daphnés grip as he sways to the left. He hits the ground with a dull thud, vision going black around the edges. The last thing he registers is a head of tawny waves blocking the sun in his vision, the edges of his hair glowing auburn.

God, he is beautiful.

And then, everything is black.

#so guys... I may have wrote a thing #my first fic ever #a fUCKIN hunger games au ahahahaha #if it goes over well... I'll write the new chapters asap #I'll post an ao3 link as soon as my account goes through #this is gonna be dramatic #but you can probably figure that out #Rated M for much violence and probably some sexy times at some point #skam france #skamfr #skam fr #elu #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #elu fic #my fic #even the dead deserve a song