#and then i’ll only need to miss that one afternoon of her classes

[love-that-we-were-in]

betting on all three for us two

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: you think you like being a little more friendly and a little less competition with luke castellan this year. a sequel to this fic word count: 3.1k warnings: none

author's note: frat luke my dearly beloved loser son who studies pre-med this is for you you know who you are i love you

1. 

The fall semester comes at you faster than you’d like, this rapid change from a golden summer to the crisp air of being back on campus. You’re rooming with someone from an old anthropology elective you took, Silena finally moving into her sorority house. It should feel weirder, how everything has changed since spring break. 

You take the opportunity to build new habits. Early runs, no caffeine after 2pm. Little things that make the day go a tiny bit faster, building blocks to fit around your class schedule. Silena schedules weekly lunches for the three of you and there’s this gravity to it all that you want to study. 

It had been nice to be home for a few months. Your mom had missed having you there, being able to show you the new flowers she planted, how the lemon tree in the yard is twisting weirdly. Board games and family dinners and friends who never left your town. Being back home was resetting. Being back on campus was restarting.

Lee catches you as you leave the gym, offering to walk you to class if you’re heading in that direction. You smile, telling him that you have a late start and pretend he doesn’t frown when your phone buzzes. He mentions that he’s thinking of starting a study group for one of your classes and you tell him you’ll think about joining. 

While he heads towards the main building, you make your way to the campus coffee shop - caught behind the early risers desperate for something to get them through their first lecture of the day. 

“Can I get a flat white and an iced americano with caramel to go please?” You smile at the girl working the counter, stepping aside to glance at your watch.

You run through your schedule for today, ignoring the text that comes through. You know exactly what it says, the same thing every morning, and you don’t even bother to roll your eyes at this point. 

“I can’t believe you ignored my text,” Luke says when you reach the courtyard between the library and the medical building. “Not even a flame emoji.”

You stop in front of him, drinking in the jeans and sweater combination he’s settled on today. It’s a really nice sweater, dark blue and a little baggy. You wonder how quickly he’d notice it going missing. Probably not as quickly as he’d notice the stupid hat he’s wearing go missing. His backpack leans against the bench, pristine.

“No one uses those except you,” you shake your head, handing him the iced drink. “What time does your lecture start?” 

Luke tells you as if he really needs to. It’s this thing you’ve started doing since the semester began, acting like you don’t know his schedule as well as your own. As if the both of you haven’t fallen into this routine in just a few weeks. Like it’s not a highlight of your day. 

Clarisse thinks it’s adorable. Chris thinks it’s hilarious. You think it’s nice to have someone to share your free time with, beyond whatever else you and Luke have. It had been a fear of yours, when Silena mentioned not sharing a dorm with you, that you would fall to the sidelines. That life would come with these new priorities for everyone and you would only be fourth or fifth on their lists, too cemented in the day-to-day that you’d be forgotten.

Morning coffee with Luke stops that fear. 

“Did Silena tell you about the party on Friday?” 

“I have a study group in the afternoon,” Luke says, swirling his plastic cup around so the ice clinks together. “If I do go, I’m showing up late.” 

“Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for you there, Castellan.” 

He laughs and it’s like summer again. There’s something insane about hearing Luke laugh like this, unbroken and loud, nothing like it had been over the phone while you were back home. 

“You’ve got dinner with Silena and Clarisse tonight, right?” He asks, swinging his bag over one shoulder. You throw your empty cup into the trash can as you both start walking. “Is there any point in asking if you want to come round after?”

You knock his arm with your shoulder, laughing, and, instead of feigning hurt like usual, Luke just takes your hand in his, the skin a little colder than you expect. Gazing down at your linked hands, you bite your lip before sighing. 

“If I’m home before eleven, I’ll consider it.” 

Last year, when you first met him, you thought Luke only got that determined glint in his eyes when he was competing. That it was a sign of an unanticipated thrill. Since then, you’ve learnt that it’s not that at all. It’s this thing that ignites within him, determined and passionate and a little boyish. 

You think it might be one of your favorite things about him.

“I will take that deal.”

2. 

You wish you could say you were a little drunk. At least that way you would have something to blame. As it stands, you’re stone cold sober, maybe a little tired from class but nothing that can really be blamed for the lack of weight your actions seem to have right now. 

The only thing you can blame, and you will, is the boy next to you, completely engrossed in the movie playing. They’d been watching it when you arrived, all settled on the couches and you assume this is something they do regularly, and at any other time you might’ve called it cute. 

Not tonight. Not when you walked in to the discovery that Luke wears glasses and you didn’t know about it. It was something you played off, making a joke and settling into the cushions beside him. In the time since, Chris has left for his date with Clarisse and Charlie has pulled out some work to go through in the corner of the room. 

“What’s up?” Luke asks when he realizes you’ve hardly moved in ten minutes, barely even breathing. And it’s the worst possible thing he could do, glance down through the frames with that small smile you’ve gotten used to and curls loose. 

“Nothing’s up,” you let your eyes trail back to the screen. “This is a very cute tradition you guys have going on.” 

Charlie lets out a little laugh from across the room. You feel the way Luke exhales against the side of your face. You think you’re able to go back to pretending everything is normal, make a joke and enjoy the rest of the movie. The second you feel Luke’s fingertips on the skin of your knee, gentle and warm, you know you can’t. 

“You’re swerving,” he whispers, throwing a quick glance at Charlie to see if he can hear but the other boy is engrossed in his work. “Talk to me.” 

“It’s nothing,” you bite the inside of your cheek when he nods encouragingly, incredibly aware of the patterns he’s tracing on your skin. “I just think it’s interesting that you’d choose to wear a hat all the time when the glasses are right there.” 

“What?”

His hand stills and you wait. You wait and you stare at the shape of his jaw and you chuckle when it finally clicks, his adam’s apple shifting as he swallows the conclusion down. “Are you saying you like my glasses?” 

You don’t like how uneven this all feels. Whenever you’ve been with Luke so far, there’s been this mutual balance that you’ve grown used to. Even before now, back when you were locked in silly competitions, you did it on even footing, the expectation that everything meant nothing and you wouldn’t be affected. 

This, the way Luke grins around the realization, hand moving to rest on your thigh, is different. It’s heavier. It’s a loss after a winning streak and you’re kind of obsessed with the way it could drag you down. 

“I just think that hat is stupid.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Luke nods and you know, even if he doesn’t do it outright, he’s laughing. He’s categorizing the information you’ve just given him, placing it where it belongs in his mind, and it’s going to bite you in the ass. “Tell me more.” 

“Luke,” you mutter, gritting your teeth. His fingertips brush against the hem of your shorts and, when you glare at him for it, he just shrugs. You throw a glance over in Charlie’s direction. Still nothing. “Are you insane?” 

He tilts his head like he’s considering the question carefully. If Charlie were to look over, you know he’d assume you were locked in a debate about something silly - a staple of you and Luke - and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t know for a second that you were holding onto Luke’s wrist, his hand itching to move just a little to the left. 

You sigh and the boy beside you raises an eyebrow. You both know that you’ve lost this round. 

When you press your lips to his bicep as the film credits roll, warm even through the fabric of his shirt, you mumble, “I really like your glasses.” 

3.

You aren’t used to watching things from a crowd. You’re used to focusing on yourself, on your team - not watching from a distance, surrounded by people who are there purely for enjoyment. There’s no winning from the stands. 

Luke doesn’t know you’re here. You’d sent him a text that morning wishing him luck, arranging to meet him when his debate was over. You hadn’t bothered to message him when your afternoon class got canceled, choosing instead to race across campus and find a seat in the dim auditorium they’re using. 

There isn’t the crackle of energy you get from swimming, or from watching Luke during track sessions. It’s less intense, for sure, a balance between the fire you know exists within him when he’s competing and the confidence he has in his own intelligence. You’ve argued with Luke, stupid things that neither of you care to take too seriously, and this is just the next stage of that. 

He’s got his glasses on, you note, when the debate gets underway. He’s wearing his lucky green polo, even if he’d never personally call it that, and he’s switched his smartwatch out for an analogue one. The cheap biro you’re used to seeing him use has been replaced by a fancy silver pen that he still taps against his thigh while thinking. He’s sitting straighter than usual, shoulders back. 

It’s almost like meeting him for the first time, focused and confident and sharp at the edges. 

You’re kind of obsessed with it. 

An hour and a winning handshake later, you make your way through the small crowd leaving to find Luke in conversation with one of his teammates. She smiles as you wrap an arm around his waist from behind, the slight tension still lingering in his bones melting away when he realizes it’s you. 

“What are you doing here?” He says, turning enough that he’s actually facing you now. The girl waves you both goodbye. “I thought you had class.” 

“Professor Chase had to cancel. His daughter got sent home from school with a fever.” 

Luke nods, pressing his lips to the top of your head quickly. “You didn’t have to come to my debate.” 

In the few months you’ve known Luke, you’ve learnt more about him than you expected to. You know from summer that Connecticut means looking after his sick mother, that he’s hoping to introduce some new charity events to ksig, that he used to go to a summer camp growing up. You know that his dad never showed up for anything and that he sits in the stands of all of your swim meets regardless of whether it cuts into his study time or not.

More than all of that, you know that the way he’s gazing at you now, a cross between awe and something deeper, is going to drive you crazy one day. You hope he can read the same expression on your face. 

“Thank you for coming,” he says when everyone is finally dismissed, an arm thrown across your shoulders as you make your way out of the building. You loop a finger around one of his, just because you want to. “It means a lot.”

“I told you I would,” and you had, months ago, staring at Luke’s bedroom ceiling, back when you were still caught in the casualness of it all. When Luke was just someone you pretended you weren’t trying to bump into at parties. You’d told him that you would show up for him if you ever got the chance. He’d rolled his eyes, throwing a blanket over you both and told you to go to sleep. He’d drifted off with his nose pressed against your neck. “I keep my word, Castellan.” 

“I know.”

In the evening light of campus, you think it might mean something more. Buried under the timing and the bitter wind until it’s a promise only you and Luke could translate. Asking him about where he wants to go for dinner, you like that no one else could understand the depth of it. 

+1.

Silena catches your attention as you enter the kitchen, grinning wildly and explaining her concept for tonight. Drew gave her permission to throw this week’s party, something themed and fun and it’s something she’s so proud of that you can’t help but grin back at her energy. 

“Even Charlie came,” she tells you excitedly, handing you a drink. “I feel like tonight is going to be it.” 

In all the years you’ve known her, she’s been counting down to it. You don’t exactly understand the fundamentals of what it is, if it’s a real thing or something she can just sense intrinsically. There have been moments where she’s thought of it before, mentioned it offhandedly before shaking her head - as if knowing she was wrong. 

“What even is it?” You ask and, for the first time, she breathes deeply instead of shrugging it off. 

“The beginning of the end,” she says and that doesn’t exactly explain anything. “Everything is about to change.” 

You still don’t really get it, but she’s as confident in this as she is about her clothes, so you nod like you understand. She sends you away not long after that, turning her attention to the new group that’s just walked through the doorway, mentioning that you need to be in the basement in about an hour and you just accept your fate, moving into the next room and falling into conversation with Rachel. 

*

Luke slips into the basement just as Silena starts yelling for everyone to do so, catching your eye across the room and waving. When you’re all instructed to sit down in a circle, you wonder exactly what Silena has planned for tonight. When she places a near empty bottle down in the center of you all, you laugh. 

“Are we actually playing spin the bottle?” Chris asks, prompting a murmured chorus of agreement from everyone else in the room. Silena frowns at him. 

“Wanna bet he ends up getting the most into it?” Luke whispers in your ear and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Loser has to buy the coffee tomorrow morning.” 

“You’re on,” you bump your fist to his to seal the deal. “I think he’s gonna get bored by round 3.” 

“Only boring people get bored of this game. It’s about drive.” 

“It’s about power?” Luke lets out a laugh and Silena turns her glare to you. “Sorry.”

She starts to explain the rules of the game, as if you’re all twelve again, and you bite your lip harder with every comment Luke makes under his breath. It’s a little mean, a little stupid, and you wish you were fifteen again, playing a proper game of spin the bottle for the first time.

Nothing much happens for the first few rounds, Chris starting to grumble the longer the game goes on. Luke clicks his tongue when you point it out, cursing his best friend like this was the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. 

Lee spins and it’s like cosmic interference when the bottle stops between you and Luke, the two of you glancing at each other and then back towards Lee. 

“Should I spin it again?” Lee asks when no one says anything. Silena shakes her head and says, “You can choose or we can vote if that makes you more comfortable.” 

“Please let us vote,” Chris shouts, animated and you narrow your eyes at him, ignoring the smug smile Luke gives you. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” 

Lee glances between you both again, at where your knee rests against Luke’s thigh and the beer you’ve been sharing for the past twenty minutes sits between you. “It might be better to vote.” 

“Sure,” Silena smiles before silencing you all. “Everyone that wants Lee to kiss Luke, raise your hands.” 

You raise your hand and Luke mumbles beside you, flicking your leg and you poke him in return. Anything to avoid kissing Lee Fletcher after two years of avoiding it. 

“That is an overwhelming majority,” Silena says and you know, just by the way her eyes slide over to you, that she didn’t even bother to actually count. “Lee, you may now kiss Luke.” 

There’s this moment where you think Lee is going to just leave but instead he stares at the boy next to you, the relaxed set to his jaw, the annoying baseball cap on his head, how he’s so unbothered by it all. You watch as something clicks in his mind, you really want to know what it is. 

Whatever it was, it makes him grab the bottle again, ignoring Silena’s protests. It lands on the girl from Luke’s debate team and she straightens her back ever so slightly. 

“Silena,” Lee says as he leans towards the girl. “I’m not going to kiss Luke or his girlfriend.”

“Damn straight,” Luke mumbles, grabbing your hand from your lap and holding it in his instead. It’s stupid and it really doesn’t matter to either of you, you know that, but there’s this way he says it - almost like it’s the worst thing he could’ve imagined - and it settles in your gut with the beer you’ve been drinking. “Me or my girlfriend.”

“I’d really like to meet her,” you say, laughing when he huffs and pulls his hat down on your head. When you push the visor up to see him properly, all rosy cheeks and compacted curls, you think you might have found it. Whatever it is.

Based on the way Luke’s nose scrunches and his eyes crinkle, you think he understands that too. 

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan x you

[hxltic]

Hello! I have a request!

Could you do something where Kenma isn't really giving the female reader any attention because he's busy streaming so the reader sneaks under his desk where the viewer's can't see her and she pleasures him until he eventually cums down her throat?

:) I un-ironically love writing bjs

The shared house was silent anytime after 5 o’clock. Kuroo had just left— his afternoon business management classes calling him in, and Bokuto’s practice overcrowded his schedule to the point where he went twice a day with some gym sessions in between. That leaves you alone with Kenma in your 4 bedroom home off campus that was supposedly his father’s apology gift.

The bills are mainly kept satisfied with Kenma’s profit as his streaming allows you all to live as you do. Of course, there was a sense of independency by your own jobs regardless. There has probably been twice where everyone was in the living room at once, but it’s like there’s a tacit agreement each of you have your own goals.

You can’t be mad at the man for being busy when his job supports his friends and himself.

Kenma has been your friend, now boyfriend, for the longest out of all of them, next in line being Kuroo. Kenma took computer engineering and coding related classes, despite having already perfected building PC’s just out of pure experience. The work is hard. You’ve seen it.

You’ve witnessed him stress first hand about a single error in a strenuous, long line of codes—and you ask him why he doesn’t stop doing it if it bothers him to the extent it does. His determination has grown for activities he enjoys over the years; 12 year old him would have quit.

Kenma’s way to deal with stress is isolation. The entire day he’s been crammed in his room, and with being the only other person in the house majority of the time, you bring it upon yourself to feed him. He gets focused and forgets to eat.

The reminder has you clicking your Ipad off from whatever distraction show you had playing. It was so boring most of the days, Netflix couldn’t even fulfill you. You toss the covers off yourself, then bounce downstairs into the kitchen.

It was so quiet that your feet patting against the floor filled the air. To cure the ennui you felt, you’d take the time to have fun with this culinary experience.

By the time there was fluffy white flour messily coating the kitchen and dishes stacked like game cards in the sink, your dish was plated for two. Maybe you’d keep him some company?

Careful not to fall up the stairs, you prod at his door in attempt to knock with one hand. Somehow you turn the knob successfully.

The fan cuts through the air, every click of Kenma’s pen accompanied with a glance to the paper beside him. He won’t even look up at the waitress bearing goods.

“Hi Ken,” you grab his attention but his slim eyes only dart up at the smell of cuisine. “Have you eaten?”

You know the answer. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail, so when he shakes his head the usual strands that follow aren’t there. You place the plate on his desk, next to the two cans of some energy drink and a diet Dr. Pepper.

“Thank you,” he speaks softly. There was a hint of edge to the sound, like he hadn’t used his voice all day.

“Mhmm.”

You turn on your heels to his bed, then sit criss cross as it squeaks and dips. “Do you mind if I just stay in here? It gets lonely in the house.”

To be honest, you forget he’s there sometimes.

“I’m kinda busy,” he replies. He loves you, and your presence, but he just knows he won’t be able to focus. “I’ll be done soon.”

The pout you flaunt deepens, “You’ve been stuck in here for almost a week now! Come out; I miss you Ken.”

He refrains himself from turning to look at you because he knows when he weighs his options, you’ll always come out on top. The chances of you getting picked multiply with your pout.

“Soon, I just need to finish this.”

“Please?”

He doesn’t even have a valid response for that, so he forces the spoon into his mouth. You’re actually a great cook, but since you all eat so much takeout, nobody’s at the dinner table at the same time to enjoy it.

You huff and negotiate to just sit in silence, as long as you’re in his presence. As long as you know he’s there.

This only lasts about fifteen minutes before you’re whining for him again. You completely understand the heavy load of schoolwork, and that it has to get done, but he genuinely has been at it for so long it cannot be healthy.

“I’m done,” he announces coincidentally, his soft fingers coming up to brush a tendril of hair back as he gathers his things on the desk into a neat pile.

Your head perks up like a puppy at attention. He arises from his chair after closing the laptop, pulling his rubber band from the hair connected at his nape as he steps towards you laying on his bed. You giggle in expectancy when he smiles gingerly at you, reaches his arms forward around your feet to plant his hands on the duvet, then crawls up your body. The hair tie wraps around his wrist to join all the other colorful bracelets and bands.

He makes you swoon by just giving you attention.

His hands grew into proportion as he aged, so now they were relatively large. Large enough to connect at your hips as he kisses his way up.

Stomach, chest, then an abundance on your chin and around your face, just for his thumb and index finger to hold your cheeks in position for his softer, slower kiss right on your lips.

You wrap your arms around him like he’d just disintegrate any second. You can feel his body slump, leaving you with most of his weight to carry and his head withdrawing from the kiss to between your breasts. With one hand massaging the round muscle, Kenma was in his element.

Black with barely-there blonde crowds your vision. His soft skin felt warm as you two lay intertwined in the still house, and if you were to fall asleep it would greatly help that Kenma never keeps the big light on. He moans in satisfactory below you.

You lift your hand to rest over his face, the bigger part of your thumb gliding gently over his cheek.

“I love you,” he mutters.

“I love you too Ken.”

After a while of Kenma following your heartbeat and breathing, you would’ve guessed he was asleep. He clarifies he isn’t when he groans lowly.

“I have to get up.”

The words rest tensely in the air, and maybe if you pretend you didn’t hear him, he’ll lay there and forget about it.

He attempts to raise himself from you, politely grabbing your hand and locking your fingers when he comes to a hover above. His pink lips come to the corner of yours as you blink open your eyes.

Truthfully, he wants nothing more than to be with you, here, resting—but he hasn’t streamed in a solid week because of school. You were completely his priority though, so he would make sure to give you equal attention as his stream.

He finds the little willpower to come off you and the bed. He was genuinely hoping you’d stay there and sleep peacefully, that way he’ll come back to join you and it will feel like he never left.

He flips a blanket over your body before he strolls to his setup usually beaming with bright lights. He takes a seat, making sure to turn the brightness down of everything, refraining from playing music, and ultimately deciding not to turn on any light not connected to his PC anyway.

As much as you hate that he’s not cuddled up next to you right now, you love the fact that he’s a steamer overall because he looks so damn hot doing it. Especially the way his muscles on his forearm flex as he quickly types or plays. His hair that’s usually up is down, because he isn’t wearing his mic.

Or like the way every now and then he’ll pop a piece of gum in his mouth and manspread in his gaming chair to shoot a quick message or check his feed. Or like the way he’s so attent, making call-outs, or whenever he gets angry his brows furrow the slightest bit and his face displays whatever he’s actually thinking. You find it hilarious when his eyes roll.

At some point, he hears you come up behind him into view, and his head relaxes into your two hands sliding up his neck to his jaw. You crouch into the screen and the chat immediately multiples. It’s too quick to read them all. Knowing his viewers, Kenma takes the responsibility of closing it with the click of a button, so fast that it seems he never even did it.

“Cracked, 130,” he calls.

You stood there for a moment to watch him play. He and his team beat the level, game, you don’t know, but he releases his focus from the screen and mindlessly cracks his knuckles.

A donation comes in that’s read aloud. Kenma tenses, but you’re excited to hear it.

“jump1nnit donates $70. ‘girl to girl, is it big?’”

Kenma’s head drops back in your hands, eyes closing in annoyance.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. Where were his mods?

All you were thinking about was how much Kenma was actually earning. 70 dollars in a single donation? How many of these does he get a day? How much more do people pay that’s over 70 when you aren’t here?

You shake these questions away. You knew he was famous. This was not new information; his fans see you sometimes in the background, and they adore you. It’s why your instagram has so many followers and people saying outrageous things in your comments. Ken begs you not to check them.

You find it amusing honestly. God knows what he’s being sent despite his DM’s or what they’re saying in his chats. You know there’s girls all over the world after him, but he doesn’t entertain them, so you don’t either. You trust him completely.

Brought back to reality, you look down at Kenma.

He starts, “Are you-“

To rile up the scene, you nod at the monitor with a mischievous smirk on your face. You bend and kiss his forehead.

“Can I sit right here?” You ask quickly, already pulling up his desk stool because he has no reason to say no. He takes your momentary absence to mute the computer.

“Yeah. yeah, Definitely.”

The blonde’s tone is a little off, but you chalk it up to what just happened. He was just surprised you’d actually respond. He ignores them so he doesn’t get demonetized.

So you sit next to him on your phone playing games, or watching him, or laying on his shoulder. It made it a little difficult for him to play with the last one, but he doesn’t mind. He places a kiss to your forehead, matching earlier actions, and the way you two looked at each other after will definitely reel in some fan edits.

You return to gaming on your phone until you drop it. It tumbles down and under the PC, into the jungle of wires below.

At least with everything included in the setup, that’s what you expect to see, but they’re all neatly accounted for. The seat moves back against the carpet to accommodate for your body, the space you’ve created to retrieve the device. The problem is, you and Kenma occupy this space. You won’t fit.

Kenma heard your phone drop, so he had an idea why you’re down there. He even chuckled a little. Once you pick up the phone, you use his thigh as leverage to turn yourself around, causing him to flinch, and immediately an idea pops into your head.

You could stay down here.

You press the heart of your palm into him once more, the same reaction procreating ideas like a lightbulb.

His voice from above makes another callout.

The lightness of your fingertips glide across his thigh and up to his waist, slipping past the barrier of the thin shirt he’s wearing. Kenma is not ticklish, but his abdomen turns concave to your touch.

By now he has concluded what is happening, or going to happen, and just the thought has him hardening in front of you. Of course it’s something he’s thought about. He hasn’t asked because it feels unnatural—like you would only do it because he suggested it.

His poker face remains stone cold, but the rest gives him away. With every touch you only got closer. You trail your whole hand up the shirt, running this one along the dips of his pale skin, while the other goes back and forth along his thigh. Inwards, then back out. Your phone was long forgotten.

You run the length of your fingers over his center sneakily before meeting both hands in the middle and fiddling with his waistband. He shivers, but continues to play.

He hadn’t been purposely edging himself, and he definitely knows that you would help him whenever he asked, but with all the schoolwork piled on top of him, it never crossed his mind. It was now though, and sensitivity was at its highest.

“No, why would you do that; that’s stupid,” Kenma replies to what you assume is a donation. The technological voice isn’t there anymore for you to hear.

The tips of your nails dive past every ounce of clothing settled at his hips.

He shifts in his seat, whether to allow you to pull the band down just enough or to calm his nerves, you don’t know, but the opportunity was right in front of your face. Literally.

You don’t even do anything but hold his length before you start the up and down motions. It’s enough to turn him on more, having him grow in your hand. You can’t imagine the faces he’s making while his viewers’ minds were already polluted.

“Keep going, push,” he exclaims. Voice still soft, but with some sense of urgency.

He was not speaking to you, but you listen anyway, and do as he says. Maybe you could play a game: see how long it takes before he realizes you’re taking orders.

With this, you stroke him a little faster, then run your fleshy thumb over his tip. It began dripping, a single bud threatening to fall. After swiping it away, you disperse what little you could, then wrap your plush lips around his head.

He wasn’t expecting it right after your slow pace.

“Ugh, fuck- third party.”

The groan he emitted was covered quickly by a call, as if that’s what “frustrated” him.

You pop off as quickly as you came, spread your saliva, and now slide your enclosed hand down his cock steadily. Silky smooth, it took no energy to glide along him. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his thigh through the cotton.

“Down, he’s under and one shot.”

You jerk him off as his breathing barely picks up, occasionally coming down to wet him some more, but you see a significant difference when your hand consistently twists just the tip. You’d swirl your tongue around the reddening, most sensitive part of him before dropping even farther to take his balls in your mouth.

You tug and pull harmlessly.

“Hmm...”

Despite what was going on, the streamer was clever with how he hid it.

He asks, “Hey, what do y’all want to hear?”

The viewers were astonished they were being asked; Kenma has previously told them he likes his music and would play whatever he felt like hearing. He did a stream for song recommendations and half of it was him hating on their music and the other half was his viewers attempting to find songs he would like.

Regardless, he unmuted the sound on his computer and turned on the playlist, only slightly louder than usual.

You took this opportunity to actually wrap your lips around his cock, not having to worry about the sounds. You start on the slower side but it didn’t take long to get comfortable. Whatever you couldn’t fit, you jerked off.

His abdomen showcased whatever his face wouldn’t, stuttering every now and then with his hips correcting their position. You brought the wet hand to his balls once more, and attempted to fit all of him down your throat. There was a deep sigh above you.

You closed your eyes and went again, trying to go deeper. You didn’t gag, but your throat made sounds that was enough implication of what was going on. That’s okay though. Some random band one of his mods recommended was playing.

Once more, you tried to go deeper, actually sputtering this time, but once you got past the uncomfortableness of it all, you could go the same depth over and over. You did, breathing through your nose. He could hear your throat, but chat couldn’t. If they could, they would be saying something.

“Oh shit, oh shit, he’s on me,” he huffs, “I’m gonna twist around to cover.”

You remove yourself, partially to breathe, and take two hands to twist on top of each other in opposite directions. His belly button caves in with some more muscles, pure evidence of his pleasure.

This was the second he knew what you were doing. What game you were playing.

If you wanted to play, he could too.

“Where is she?” he reads chat calmly. “I think she’s downstairs eating.”

Was it calm enough—you’re not sure, because he was fidgeting excessively in the leaning chair.

The double entendre has you giggling silently. With a deep breath, you’re back down on him again. It’s not long until you sputter.

“Do you want me to tell her to come back up?” You hear him spit out quickly.

You do as he says, but not without the price of your fingers doubling speed at his head.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her. Hold on.”

With quickness, he mutes and turns his camera off.

He was sweating and physically overwhelmed. Pushing back on his heels, his chair rolls from under the table with you following, finally in his sight. He could already imagine how you looked.

Red lips. Glowing face. Glossy eyes, smiling and happy. You were ethereal. Your hands are working him, but now with his cock down your throat too? Oh my god.

He held a soft touch at your cheek and caressed your face with his thumb. Picking up speed, you smile.

The other hand of his would do the same, brushing a loose stand of hair behind your ear. Faster.

“Just like that,” he breathes.

“Mhmm?” you deepthroat him.

His head drops back involuntarily. His mouth does the same. The heavy breaths that he was holding from the stream let loose.

One last look at your flushed features and-

He groans heavily, adam’s apple bobbing and cock tightening. Skin usually pale but red with desire, he stills.

You close your eyes. It was so fulfilling with your throat stretched and his hands on either side of your plush face.

Warmth seeps past your tongue and down the cavern. It causes you to choke but Kenma definitely doesn’t mind. His sounds flow into your ears, plus some faint praise as he soon begins to release from his high.

You couldn’t taste anything as you slowly raise yourself from him, leaving his cock glistening with saliva and pink, but the taste just barely started to form once it caught your tongue on the way down. You swallow anyway—it wasn’t bad.

You use the back of your hand to wipe your eyes and breathe freely. You lay your cheek on the driest part of his pants, even though you’ll have to get up. You just aren’t ready to see the red wilts on your knees.

“You are amazing,” Kenma catches his breath. He looks back down with his eyes glossed over and tired, but he still runs his finger over your wet lip. You softly kiss it.

. .

“Are you getting back on?” You climb into his fluffy bed, throwing the covers back.

Kenma shakes his head and follows after you in a fresh new set. He grabs the covers and returns them over you both, pushing his hair back and holding you close.

©️ hxltic

#this lowkey sucked #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyu x reader #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu smut #god i want him so bad #kenma scenario #kozume kenma #haikyuu kenma #kenma smut #kenma headcanons #kenma hcs #kenma kuzome #kenma x reader #kenma x you #hq kenma #kenma imagine #kenma fanfic #kozume #kozume x reader #kozume x y/n #hq kozume #haikyuu kozume #kodzuken #kenma haikyuu #haikyuu kenma smut

[shuahoonie]

lily of the valley | xu minghao

pairing: non-idol!minghao (svt) x fem!reader

notes: meet-cutes, preschool teacher!reader (sorta), grumpy x sunshine (sorta), tooth-aching fluff, crack, established relationships, a series of flashbacks, hao doesn’t like cliché things! yet he’s the most romantic cliché ? loosely based on the song 은방울 lily of the valley by DANIEL

word count: 3.7k

summary: hao thought the idea of a meet-cute was corny, impossible even. however, when he recalls the first time he met you, he knew he had to swallow a few choice of words and his pride.

part of the to x, with love mini series

shuahoonie's masterlist | to x, with love masterlist

hao scoffs at the screen when the main lead from the movie that you two are watching meets for the first time, at the most ridiculous instance. the meet cute being: the guy practically throws himself to save the girl from a moving vehicle.

hao believes that is not cute.

his reaction caused you to look up at him with a glint in your eyes, ready to annoy your boyfriend even more.

“where is the hostility coming from, lovey?” you asked, sitting straight.

hao sighs, “i know that look.”

“what look?” you blinked innocently at him, knowing full well you’re going to pick on his hatred for romantic clichés.

minghao mutters a long string of words as he pulls you back in his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

you let out a chuckle, you knew what he was trying do. it’s cute, that your haohao would do anything to disassociate himself from romantic clichés, but the man was the most romantic person you’ve ever known. he was your romantic cliché.

“baby,” he practically whines “can we watch something else?”

“what do you mean? you promised you’d watch this with me,” you said as jennifer lopez’s the wedding planner played on the screen.

“you don’t even like this movie,” hao reasons out. “i don’t even know why you’re willing to sit through this.”

“it was included in the list of films that has the best meet cutes,” you said reading off your phone.

“are you still on that?” he dreads, you felt his chin rest on the top of your head.

“it’s because what we had was a meet cute!” you insisted. “don’t you remember?”

“oh, i remember alright,” hao mutters into your head.

it was a rainy friday afternoon, the sound of children were slowly starting to dissipate as the day goes longer.

“ms. ln,” min tugs on your skirt as you watched the rain pour harder than what was anticipated in the weather forecast. “do you have an umbrella?” her eyes practically sparkled as soon as the words left her mouth.

“why sweetie? do you need one?” you asked her, crouching down. “i don’t have one with me, but i can text miss lee if she has an extra one in her classroom that you can borrow.”

she shook her head no, her pigtails swinging along, making you smile. “my uncle is picking me up and i want to know if you’re getting home safely.” she says with a smile. liu xiaomin has always been looking out for her peers and it was no wonder that her warm-hearted nature reaches you. she is a bundle of sunshine and you're lucky enough to have her in your class.

“that’s so sweet of you min," you replied with a soft smile "but i think i'll just wait for the rain to stop."

"what if it doesn’t miss?” she asked with a pout.

“then i’ll just find a way to enjoy the rain,” you said, patting her head. or you can call a cab, but that doesn’t sound as romantic as enjoying the rain.

“okay,” she sighs, sitting at the front steps of the school. “i hope uncle haoi gets here soon.”

you glanced at your watch, it was 10 minutes past dismissal. although min’s uncle is not extremely late, she has been waiting for quite some time now. and with the non-stop pouring rain? it was bound that traffic is up on the horizons.

“do you want me to wait with you, min?” you asked her, feeling bad that she’s the only student left waiting for her ride. xiaomin nods eagerly as she scoots to the side, signalling you to sit next to her.

you two were quietly watching the rain hit the pavement when min asks suddenly, “miss ln, do you have a boyfriend?”

you practically choke on your spit at her question. how does a five-year old even know about that? “sweetie, how do you know about that?”

“i’m five years old, miss, i’m not a baby,” she said with a huff, making you laugh.

“of course,” you tried your best to rationalize, giving her a smile. “but no, i don’t have one.”

“oh, you should meet my uncle haoi then,” she smiles, satisfied with your answer.

you raised an eyebrow at her sudden interest. “and why’s that?”

“i keep hearing my mom tell uncle haoi to get a girlfriend.”

“okay…” you trailed off— you don’t really know how to respond. you barely know this uncle haoi that she keeps bringing up because you’ve only met min’s parents— both of whom usually take turns in picking and dropping her off.

“i think uncle haoi will like you because you’re pretty and you’re very kind and you like painting and you like painting your nails and you like clouds…”

as min went on an endless ramble about how her uncle haoi would like you immediately, you received a text from min’s mom, saying that min’s uncle will be a couple more minutes late.

you tried to suppress a sigh, knowing that you were going to stay a little longer. maybe it was the friday rush, but you were hoping to get home earlier so you can crash on your sofa, catch up on your shows, and be completely static for hours on end.

“miss ln?” min calls your name as you’ve spaced out for a bit. “i think that’s uncle haoi’s car,” min says as you two stared at the black suv that pulled up in front of the school.

“okay, sweetie, let’s just wait till your uncle introduces himself and picks you up personally from me, okay?”

min was more than happy to do so. “uncle haoi!” min calls his name as she waves her hand, practically jumping in excitement.

one look at min’s uncle and you knew exactly who he is. you’ve recognized that tall build that’s approaching you, especially with an umbrella in hand— umbrella man finally has a name.

‘uncle haoi’ looks to be in the same case as you. as soon as his eyes landed on you, he recognized who exactly you were— the girl in the rain.

min makes a run for it and greets her uncle with a hug, making sure to stay under the umbrella. this makes hao melt a bit, lowering his guard down. his features soften at the sweet gesture of his niece.

“it’s you again,” hao mutters as he reaches you, noticing the familiar glint in your eyes.

“uncle haoi, i presume?”

“xu minghao,” hao clarifies curtly, “or just hao.”

“well, okay, hao,” you forced a smile. “here are min’s things.” you said as you handed him her things.

hao puts on min’s backpack and picks his niece up, settling her in his left arm as min clings onto him with a smile on her face.

“miss ln, did you bring your umbrella?” min asks as she whips her head to face you.

hao looks at you for an answer, he had an inkling of what your answer is going to be.

you gave her a forced smile, avoiding eye contact with minghao— his piercing stare was practically boring a hole in your skin. “i’ll just call for a cab, sweetie, don't worry about me."

"uncle haoi," min pouts at her uncle.

"yes, honey?" hao's expression softens upon hearing the soft call from his niece.

"can miss ln come with us?" her eyes practically twinkled as she gave hao the cutest puppy dog eyes she could muster.

hao was caught off-guard, this was the first time min expressed this kind of closeness towards her teachers.

the truth was, you were min's favourite teacher— or in this case, substitute teacher. you were only filling in for the last three months of the school year due to a teacher's personal emergency. but within the short amount of time you had with the students, they found a surprising pull towards you— a bond so tight that even surprised yourself.

unbeknownst to everyone, including min herself, min was playing matchmaker. since uncle haoi and miss ln were her favourites, it would only make sense to combine them together. right?

"um," hao turns to you, but you had an unreadable expression on your face. "i can drop you off at your place, if you want? it'll save you time, and the faire."

"thank you, but it's fine, you two go on ahead." you said, trying your best not to sound dismissive. hao, however, picked up on your tone and gave you a curt nod. "maybe next time, okay?"

"you promise, miss ln?" min asked with a pout. you gave her a nod, making her smile again— satisfied with your answer. "okay, bye miss ln!!" min enthusiastically waved goodbye.

you watched hao skillfully settle min onto her car seat as he tried his best not to get her soaked from the rain. you were about to order yourself a cab when hao approached you with an undiscernible look on his face.

"yes, mr. xu?" you looked up from your phone and blinked at him innocently.

with no other words, hao hands you his umbrella— the exact same way he did the first time he met you.

you just stared at his hand that was firmly grasping the handle of the umbrella as the rain poured down on him, effectively soaking his hair and the white cardigan he was wearing.

"just take it,” was all he said as he forced the umbrella on your hand and ran back to his car.

“okay, but that was not the first time we’ve met, lovey,” you said as you looked up from his chest. the movie was now forgotten.

“i know, but that was the first time jiejie teased me about you,” hao practically grumbles upon memory, his cheeks were turning red.

your eyes sparkled as soon as the words left his mouth. “how did i not know about this?” you practically squealed at the information.

“oh shut it, yn,” hao playfully puts his hand over your mouth, prompting you to bite it. “ya!”

“well, i’m waiting, lovey,” you practically sang.

“why are you soaking wet, hao?” minghao’s older sister asks as soon as hao and min entered the house "did you forget to bring an umbrella? today of all days? is minnie okay?"

hao sighs at the instantaneous nagging of his older sister. "min's fine. she didn't get wet, don't worry about it." xiaomin makes a run towards her mom, giving her a giant hug as soon as her shoes were off.

"okay," his sister sighs and hugs her daughter back, kissing the top of her head, before min runs to her playpen. "so why are you?"

"remember the girl i told you about before?" hao starts off, removing the soaked cardigan he was wearing. "the one from the heaven’s cloud café?"

"the one you practically bullied into accepting your umbrella because it was raining and she was just casually walking under the pouring rain?"

"yes..." hao frowned at his sister's overtly detailed description. "well, i met her again, jiejie. today. at minnie's school."

it took hao's sister a minute before she realized what minghao was implying. "you mean it was yn?!" a pleasant look of surprise takes over her face.

"that’s her name?" hao wonders out loud “you know, jiejie, minnie was surprisingly fond of her.”

“really?” hao’s sister almost looks relieved upon hearing hao say those words “she always had that charm, it’s no wonder that her students are enamoured by her.”

“you knew her?”

“yeah, university,” she smiles at hao.

“how come you’ve never mentioned her?” hao asks with a frown.

this piques her interest. “well, i haven’t talked to her in years since she moved away.” she says, watching her brother’s steady reaction “i only found out she’s back when word got out that min’s class were getting a sub. yn made sure to personally let the parents know about what’s going to happen.”

hao just hummed, taking all of the information in. hao’s sister uses this to her advantage. “you sure do ask a lot of questions about her.”

minghao scoffs at his sister’s implication. “i’m just making sure that minnie’s in good hands,” hao replies almost defensively.

“oh, she’s in great hands,” hao’s sister smirks “why, do you think yn’s pretty?”

“stop trying to play matchmaker, jiejie!” hao throws a pillow at his sister “it’s rubbing off on minnie!”

hao’s sister laughs “what do you mean?! i did not teach my daughter that!”

“well, she must have seen it somewhere! she asked me the if i thought ‘miss ln was pretty,’” hao pointed out, frustrated.

“uncle haoi?” minnie calls from the backseat.

“yes, honey?” he looks at the rearview mirror to check on his niece.

“do you think miss ln is pretty?” min asked innocently, making hao choke on his own spit.

“well,” hao’s sister grins “what did you say?”

hao’s silence and the fact that his face was turning red was enough of an answer for his jiejie.

“aw, lovey, you had a crush on me from the start?” you beamed at him, adjusting your position from the couch. you were still practically glued to his side, tucked under his arms, but now you were just looking at him— chin resting on his chest.

hao playfully scoffed at your implication “baby, i think it was the other way around.” his answer prompts you to smack his chest lightly. “i was always wondering why you kept taking my umbrellas.”

you gasped, appalled. “you wish, xu minghao!”

“i did,” hao smiles at you. “you know whenever it rained, i always wished that for some reason you would forget your umbrella— which i knew you would, i’ve come to learn that after the first 2 weeks of dating you.”

“i have like four umbrellas from you,” you muttered shyly. hao laughs at your timid confession, softly caressing your cheeks.

“i know, i kept buying new ones,” he replied with a soft smile. “and since i knew you were eventually going to forget to bring one with you, i started offering you a drive home.”

“aha! so that was your tactic of wooing me then,” you squinted your eyes at him.

“uh, no?!” hao was almost offended, making you laugh. “it was the lilies, remember?”

“uncle haoi,” min calls for her uncle’s name excitedly “look what i’m giving miss ln!”

hao looks back at the driver’s seat to find min waving a pink ‘happy birthday’ card. he smiles at his niece’s sweet gesture.

ever since hao’s jiejie started working back in the office, he’s been frequently dropping off and picking up his niece. his work schedule conveniently fits min’s school schedule so this means more encounters with yn.

it’s funny, hao thinks. he’s somehow formed an indescribable bond with you. the fifth time that hao was actively aware that you forgot your umbrella (again), he insisted that he can drive you home.

“what kind of teacher am i if my students knew that i willingly went inside a stranger’s car?!” you argued.

“the kind of teacher that accepts help from those who are willing to give it,” hao argues back. this was your what— fifth meeting? it was refreshing for hao to see this side of you. “and i’m not a stranger! you know my jiejie.”

“yes, but i don’t know you,” you crossed your arms, childishly.

this makes hao crack a smile. this was the first time you saw hao smile— or rather, the first time hao smiled because of you.

“xu minghao,” hao extends his hand “you can call me haohao.”

hao checks the time on his car’s dashboard, it was still quite early since they beat the morning traffic. “should we buy flowers to go with that card, minnie?” he asks his niece who nodded excitedly.

“okay, why did you get me lilies though?” you asked him.

“heaven’s cloud café,” hao answered simply. “you were carrying a bouquet of white lilies.”

“and you presumed i just liked them?” you were teasing, of course. you liked white lilies. after receiving the bouquet of white lilies from hao for the first time, you’ve come to love them. you even kept some of the dried lilies on a frame— something to remember by.

“well, i made sure that i asked the right source.”

“still don’t know how you’ve managed to know him.” you grumbled “i feel betrayed.”

“i keep telling you that i met them during our university days!” hao laughs.

“how come he’s never mentioned you?!”

“jun never mentioned you either!”

“what about that one,” you asked jun, pointing at the red velvet cake “oh no, but that bear-shaped tiramisu looks adorable.” you pouted as you continued to browse the dessert section of the café.

“yn, seriously, just pick one,” jun groans as he watched you struggle. “wonwoo’s going to bite our head off.”

“i heard that,” a deep voice appears behind you two.

“i heard that” you mocked your friend, earning a smack in the head from wonu. “ya! i’m telling!”

jun laughs at you two. you, jun, and wonu grew up together. for three people who spent most of their lives intertwined, it’s amazing how you three are not still sick of each other.

you three even made a pact to have a mandatory weekly meeting. if one person can’t make it, they have to pay for the next meeting. since you’re all stingy, you three have done your own ways of going through hell and back just so you couldn’t miss a meeting.

“just pick the red velvet, ynnie,” jun says without even looking up at you, totally engrossed on his phone. “ynnie, you still like lilies, right?”

“yeah…” you said, watching jun type furiously on his phone. “who are you texting?”

“no one,” jun says not-so-innocently. “so what are we doing today aside from giving our hard-earned money towards cheol & han?” jun’s sentiment makes you three laugh.

“you know i keep hearing good reviews from this place from my co-workers,” you said as you eyed the chocolate cake.

“seriously! have these two never heard of a friends and family discount?” jun wails even more, obviously not done.

“what’s all this yapping about?” someone emerges from the backroom, carrying a fresh case of cupcakes.

“jeonghannie!” jun greets him with a smile. “if we buy three slices of cakes, do we get the next one free?”

“no, you get it for an additional 20% of the price,” jeonghan says making you laugh. jeonghan spots you— a new, yet oddly, familiar face. “you must be yn!”

“hi hi, yes!” you smiled at him. you’ve only heard jeonghan through stories from your friends— wonu and junnie. as a matter of fact, you’ve yet to meet their gigantic friend group. “i’ve heard lovely things about your place!”

jeonghan smiles, pleased. “and because of that your entire order will be on the house today!” he beams, before he turns to wonu and jun “you two have to pay full price.”

“that’s not fair, we’ve been friends for years!” jun whines, making jeonghan laugh.

“oh, it’s fine, i’ll be happy to pay— no worries!” you say with a kind smile.

“okay, fine all of your orders are on the house,” jeonghan rolls his eyes playfully. “only because you’re sweet and hao just can’t get enough of you.”

you were about to say something when jun places his hand over your mouth. “thank you so much jeonghannie! i’ll make sure to put in a good word to my co-workers!” jun says in one breath, pushing you towards one of the empty booths.

“junnie,” you eyed him warily “what was jeonghan talking about?” you asked with your arms crossed.

“well, it’s a long story actually…” jun trailed off, scratching the back of his head.

“how does he know about minghao?”

jun was about to answer when wonu interrupts him as soon as he finished ordering for the rest of you. “we’re all friends, yn,” wonu starts off “it’s quite impossible for our circles not to cross.”

“okay, but that doesn’t explain what’s going on,” you said, confused. “and how come i’ve never heard of hao when i know literally everyone else.”

“yes, you do!” jun counters “it’s just sometimes we’re used to calling him his korean name.”

“he’s myungho?” you were flabbergasted, somehow the dots never aligned. “god, that man has so many names,” you muttered to yourself “then how—“

“university days,” wonu answers for you “you went to a different school, you even met hao’s sister.”

“you even moved out of town,” jun added, practically resting their case. besides, it’s not like you always kept tabs on who their friends were. however, the latter part of jeonghan’s sentence got you intrigued.

“okay…” you were unconvinced “but what about the other thing that jeonghan said?”

this makes jun smirk, using it to his advantage. “about what you being sweet?” jun asks innocently, making wonwoo laugh.

“wen junhui!” you smacked his arm playfully “i’m being serious here!”

“i’m serious too! i’m not too sure about you being sweet though,” jun says teasingly, making you roll your eyes at him “hao, however…”

wonu watches your reaction, he noticed your attention perked up— eyes practically dancing in anticipation. “aw, our little yn has a crush,” wonu says with a teasing smile.

“psh, me? having a crush? what am i, 5?” you were getting defensive, which means they were correct with their assumptions.

“aha, so you did have a crush on me!” hao exclaimed, pulling you closer to him— as if you could get any closer.

“yes,” you muttered through your teeth “however, you liked me first! you kept bringing me coffee every time you dropped off min at school.”

hao didn’t want to argue so he nodded, smiling softly at you. “yeah, i sure did.” his comment makes you melt into a puddle. one year of dating and he still manages to make your heart burst. “and i think if i had the chance to do it again, i wouldn’t change a thing.”

“you’d still give me your umbrella?”

“i’d still give you my umbrella,” hao murmurs before giving you a kiss on the lips.

hiyaa friends! we're almost halfway through the series and i alr want to start a new mini series 😭

#xu minghao x reader #xu minghao #minghao x reader #minghao fluff #minghao fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #svt x you #svt fluff #svt x reader #minghao x you #minghao x y/n #the8 x reader #the8 fluff #the8 scenarios #seventeen x you #shuahoonie writes

[deathbecomesthem]

Chapter 1 - Study Buddy | 1.6K

My So-Called Hawkins

An introduction to a MSCL Stranger Things AU. This reader is heavily inspired by Angela Chase's personality, and Eddie Munson is our Jordan Catalano. I'm taking it back to high school, where all the feelings feel so very much.

Reader's Journal Entries - Invisible and Pencil

Fem!Reader x Eddie Munson

Every day is the same, and I wonder if there’s a point. Even if there is, I’ll probably never find out what it is. I remember thinking that when I got to this age, I’d be someone. I’d understand things enough to feel like I have a place. Like, did I miss something important? I don’t cheer, I don’t act, I don’t sing, I don’t play the flute - god I can’t believe my parents let me get this far without making me do something. Be someone. 

Maybe it’s easier this way. Dad thought it was weird that I dug out his old flannel shirts from the basement last week, that I wear them to school. He thinks it��s weird that I spent my Christmas money on boots when they buy me perfectly good sneakers whenever I need them. I asked mom if I could get my nose pierced for my birthday. She laughed and shook her head. “You’re so pretty, why would you want to scar your face like that?” She has no idea. I’m not pretty. I’m boring. No one sees me. 

-

You went to the mall with Robin over the weekend. There’s not much else to do in Hawkins. Not much else to do anywhere, really. Babysitting for the Johnsons has been good for pocket change, enough to get a slice at Sbarros at least. Plus, maybe you’ll have enough for a new lipstick. You’ve been thinking about that for a while, seeing if something other than the peachy shade your mom bought you would look like on your face.

You’re staring at the mirror and considering your raisin stained lips, wondering if there’s any point in matching the worn brown and beige flannel with any makeup at all. You think of Chrissy Cunningham and her cute-as-a-button smile. How flawless she looks in that fluffy rose pink sweater she wears so often. That’s part of it, you know. The things that make the other girls look so gorgeous make you look wrong. Make you feel like crawling out of your skin. You envy Chrissy and Heather, the way they effortlessly move through the world.

You sigh and grab a handful of toilet paper, roughly wiping off as much of the lipstick as you can before heading downstairs. Your stomach is in knots, thinking about seeing Eddie this morning. Seeing him standing outside of the back entrance of JCPenney with Gareth and Jeff on Saturday afternoon felt surreal. You could feel his eyes watching you make your way back to your car with Robin’s hand in yours. 

“Who’s that?” You heard one of the other guys say. You’d waved to him, like an idiot. Like it was a normal thing to do. Eddie didn’t wave back. You heard his voice, though. 

“Uh, she’s in one of my classes.” 

He probably doesn’t even know my name, and I waved at him.

You push the memory aside and run down the stairs while saying a silent prayer that no one will be in the kitchen when you skate through it. You don’t want to talk, you don’t want the silent judgment from your parents about your chosen outfit. You just want to walk out the door, get in your car, and drive. Hurry up and get the day started so you’re closer to the end of the thing. It’s a short week, only 2 days of school with an extra long weekend. Blessed relief. You’re already planning to spend the intervening days at the Buckley house where no one seems to care if you eat the allotted portion of vegetables on your plate or dye your hair black.

“Woah, slow down there, Pumpkin.” You nearly walk straight into your father as you round the corner. In your attempt to avoid him, you catch your hip on the faux marble island. His hand steadies you.

“Shit, oh, I’m sorry.” You can feel your skin heat up, and hope he lets the slip of your tongue pass without comment. “I just don’t want to be late.”

“You won’t be late. Sit down for a minute, eat something.” His words aren’t a suggestion, so you perch yourself on the edge of one of the stools at the island and grab a banana. Your stomach flips at the thought of trying to eat it, so you stand.

“I’ll take it with me. I need to go pick up Robin.” You stand on your toes to leave a kiss on your dad’s cheek. Something you’ve done every morning for as long as you can remember. 

“I don’t understand why Robin needs you to pick her up, she lives 2 houses away. It’s a 10 minute walk to school, you don’t even need to be driving.” 

You push your feet into your boots by the back door and throw a wave back at your dad. You opt to tie the laces in the car, not letting the old man get into a groove with his chosen complaint for the morning. You’re just glad your mom left early today, her car is already out of the driveway. Maybe she has an early showing.

There’s only a hint of light in the sky when you pull your car into the Buckley’s driveway. You kill your headlights, Mrs. Buckley’s been working thirds and you don’t want to wake her up if she’s already in bed. Robin comes bounding down the stairs of her house zipping her bookbag, a piece of toast in her mouth. Her sweater is inside out.

“Your sweater is inside out,” you tell her before she even rests her full weight on the passenger’s seat.

“Oh, shit. Goddamnit. Just drive, I’ll fix it on the way.”

“Better do it quick, unless you want to give a free show to everyone heading to Hawkins High this lovely winter morning.” You tell her, throwing the unopened banana into the backseat of your car where it will inevitably be forgotten until it’s rotten and mushy.

Robin’s arms flail while she makes muffled annoyed sounds. You hear the occasional crunch of her toast while she fumbles with the sleeves of her oversized fluffy sweater. “I think I’m, shit, my earring, I think I’m gonna talk to Munson about buying some weed for this weekend.”

You grip the steering wheel tighter at his name. Robin doesn’t know about your weird fixation on Eddie. 

“What’s this weekend? Is there a party or something?” You keep your voice level while you focus on the road in front of you. Two more turns and you’ll be in the parking lot and away from this unexpected conversation topic.

“Steve’s thing. Please tell me you didn’t forget. You promised you’d come.” Robin’s pulling down the visor to fix her disheveled hair and check her lip gloss. You hadn’t forgotten, you just never actually planned on going. You secretly hoped the weekend would never come, or that Robin would decide that it would be more fun to just skip the party.

You pull into your usual spot without responding and sigh. You check yourself in your rearview mirror, surprised to see the raisin lipstick still clinging to your mouth. You flip the visor back up and turn to Robin. You see her eyes are pleading with you. 

“I didn’t forget. I guess I can go. Nobody will care if I’m there or not, though.”

“I care. I’m the only one that matters, remember?” You can’t deny her words, not when she has those big wide eyes trained to your face.

–

Eddie isn’t late today. He’s sitting in his seat when you walk through the door to your first period class. You don’t look at him, but you can feel him looking at you. You can’t breathe until you’re seated with your own eyes looking at the back of his head. The way it should be. You looking at him, not the other way around. 

“Good morning,” Mrs. O’Donnell’s usual greeting is being said before she’s even stepped both feet into the classroom. Never a wasted moment for that woman, it’s exhausting to deal with before 8:00 a.m. five days a week. “Pick a partner. I don’t want any excuses about how hard this exam is tomorrow. You can spend the entire period studying together.”

Pick a partner. Dreaded words that you hate to hear unless you’re in a class with Robin. You choose the tactic you use most often. You wait to see who everyone else chooses, you’ll be the default partner for whoever is left. The sound of desks scraping the linoleum floor floods the room as people turn to face their study buddy. It’s all you hear until -

“Do you have a partner yet?” Eddie Munson asks. It takes you a beat to realize he’s talking to you because you’re doodling on the empty sheet of paper in front of you pretending to not notice that you’re supposed to be doing something. You look up and see his dark eyes staring at you, until you remember that he’s asked you something.

“Oh, uh, no. I don’t have one.” Should I ask him to be my partner? Should I give him a shy smile and bite my lip? Should I burst into flames and turn to ash? It doesn’t matter, because Eddie takes that as an invitation. He stands up and starts moving his desk so that it faces yours. And now, there’s nowhere to hide. 

Eddie Munson is your study buddy.

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson series #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #mscl au

[blooming-violets]

The Exhibit

[tasm!Peter Parker x fem!Reader]

Warnings: use of pet names such as Daddy/Princess/Babygirl, BDSM in the form of dom/sub, bondage/spanking/blindfolds/nipple clamps/a bit of masochism, anal play, exhibitionism/voyeurism

WC: 8K

A/N: This was an anon request for window smut off of this prompt list but tumblr said a big no no to (what I'm assuming) was one of the gifs I used for the graphic and hid the post so I had to delete it. I'm reposting it again minus the very bad so naughty terrible gif I used. Porn bots can run free and terrorize the tags with their tits and wide open pussy on display but how dare a smut writer use a tastefully erotic, black and white, gif of a blurry couple making sweet, sweet love against a far away window. So naughty. Such a bad girl.

The elevator chimed with a pleasant musical melody as the doors slid open to their floor. There were only four rooms in this hallway. Behind each door held a luxury suit overlooking the busy streets of Florence. 

Peter had gone all out for their honeymoon. 

They’d spent the last week in Sardinia, making love on the beaches, drinking wine, making love on sailboats, drinking more wine, making love in their hotel room in the early morning with the windows open to enjoy the breeze…more wine…more sex…

They were struggling to keep their hands off of each other. Even now, as Peter guided her towards their room, his hand was slipped under her vibrantly red sundress and fingering the elastic waist of her cotton underwear. 

They left the beaches of Sardinia to come to Florence specifically to see the art but she wondered if they would ever actually make it out of their room with the way Peter’s hands teased her. She was surprised that he wasn’t sick of her yet. Seven straight days of love making and he was still as rowdy as ever. 

He let her admire the suite, watching her as he leaned against the wall, more interested in eying her legs in that dress than the luxury accommodations he had provided for them. 

“Peter,” she whispered, eyes wide as she took it all in. “This is gorgeous.”

Their beachside Sardina resort had a more airy and cool feel whereas this room screamed of sophistication and class. She knew Peter had been working like crazy leading up to their wedding but she had no idea this was why. 

“Like it?” He asked with an arrogant smirk toying at his lips. “A room fit for a queen.” 

She dropped her bag beside the bed and kicked off her shoes, flopping backwards onto the bed to stare up at the arched ceiling with thick, exposed wooden beams. Even the ceiling was stunning. 

She felt the bed sink as Peter crawled on top of her. 

His white, loose button up had the first few buttons undone so his athletic chest peeked through. She loved the sight of his chest hair being exposed. He looked so relaxed, laid back, and blissful with life. Filled with wine, good food, and love. The perfect blend of medicine for him to simply shine. 

He placed a soft kiss against her lips, humming appreciatively, “You look sleepy, babe. Why don’t you take a nap while I unpack our things. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.” 

A nap sounded wonderful after traveling between hotels. She rolled onto her side. It was warm enough that she didn’t need to snuggle under the covers. Peter ran his hands up her bare leg and slipped under her sundress to take one last squeeze of her ass before she slept. 

She awoke to light kisses tickling her stomach. Peter was laid over her legs, her dress rolled up under her breasts so he could let his lips roam over her belly.

She stretched, a sleepy smile growing on her face, as she peered down at him. 

“What time is it?” She mumbled through the lingering sleep. 

“Time to wake up and play,” he said. He blew a raspberry on her belly with his mouth, making her laugh. “It’s about 4 in the afternoon. You slept all morning. I missed you too much to let you keep sleeping. Wake up and play with me. I’m bored.” 

He had his shirt completely unbuttoned and was stripped down to his boxers to get more comfortable while he lounged around waiting for her. 

Judging by the state of his hair, he looked like he might have gotten in an hour or so of sleep, too.

“Alright, alright,” she giggled. “I’m up. Let me go freshen up and then we can go explore the city.”

Peter pulled her up to her feet and gave her a quick spank as she walked off into the bathroom. That man always needed to have a hand on her ass in some way. 

By the time she came back out, she was surprised to see that he had yet to get dressed and had actually lost an item of clothing.

His shirt was now thrown onto the bed, cast aside without a care.  

“Underwear is a bold choice to go walking around Italy in but I admire your confidence,” she said with a teasing smile.  

Peter didn’t smile back. He had a look in eyes. A look that she knew very well. 

It wasn’t the “making love” look. 

It wasn’t the “quickie” look. 

It was dark, ravenous, and screaming of dominance. 

He had yet to give her that look on their honeymoon. So far, he'd been more playful and loving. This evening, he had other plans. 

They were not leaving this hotel room any time soon. 

A shiver of excitement shook off whatever sleep might have still been clinging to her mind. 

She blinked and he was pouncing on top of her. 

Her back hit the wall but his hand slipped protectively behind her head before it slammed, instead, falling into the cushion of his palm. 

Her breath exhaled from her lips at the force but, before she could catch it, he was attacking her lips with hungry, demanding kisses. His tongue pushed possessively into her mouth at the same time he slid a hand over her breast to fondle her over her dress. 

Taking what was his. 

“‘Can’t stand the sight of you in this dress.”

He moaned into her open mouth. 

“Makes me want to rip it straight off your body.”

He grabbed at her breasts, aggressive and horny, rutting his hips against her. 

“Do you know how hard it was not to fuck you while you slept?”

Her hair was being violently pulled, head crashing against the wall, her mouth falling open into a cry.

“Laying there, all innocent, legs spread open and begging for me to touch them.”

He clawed down her bare legs. Nails dragged against her skin. Feeling like she was getting attacked by a raging bear with the force of power behind each of his movements. 

“Teasing me even in your sleep. A foxy, little minx, aren’t you?”

She shuddered, lowering her voice to a whisper, ready to play along, “I picked this dress just for you. I knew what it would do to you.” 

He grabbed her wrists, slamming them above her head against the wall, and holding them in place. He let out a groan, grinding his stiff cock into her thigh. 

“Daddy knew his babygirl was a little tease.” 

A trickle of wetness soaked into her panties at the use of her favorite pet name for himself. 

What had started out as a joke early in their relationship, quickly became a genuine kink to turn them on. 

With that name on his lips, she could guess what kind of torture was held in store for her. It was going to be a dizzying whirlwind of fast, hard pleasure. 

Peter’s voice lowered to a near growl. 

“Pretty, little thing like you shouldn’t be traipsing around in a dress like that. You don’t know who might snatch you up.”

With both her wrists bound tightly in his one hand, he lifted her off the ground, dragging her up the wall, blatantly showing off his inhuman strength so she knew exactly what he could do to her if he wanted. 

To him, she weighed nothing. This was a man who had stopped moving trucks with his bare hands and thrown cars around like a kid with a ball. 

He let go and she dropped the few inches back to her feet with a surprised yelp. 

“You’re lucky you have me to protect you. Daddy won’t let anything bad happen to his little princess, will he?” 

She was shoved straight back against the wall, getting off on the feeling of being handled so roughly. 

He nipped at her ear lobe, sucking it into mouth the sounds of her tumbling whimpers. 

“Do you like to show off when you wear dresses like this? Do you like having men look at you? Do you like that they imaging fucking you when you walk by?”

“I only want you to fuck me. Only you,” she whined, trying to free her hands from the hold he had on her.

“Of course I’m the only who will ever fuck you, princess.” 

He tugged her hand back down to flash her newly placed wedding ring in front of her face. 

“That right there means that my cock is the only one that will ever split you open again. But that doesn’t mean others can’t look. People have eyes. They can see what I’ve got hanging off my arm.”

He brushed her hair away from her neck so he could lean down to graze his lips along her pulse points, murmuring against her heated skin as he continued to taunt her with his words. 

“How do you expect anyone to keep their thoughts pure when you’re walking around in this?” He pulled at the bottom of her sundress. “You’re putting on a show for them, babygirl.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” she cried. “It's hot out! I wanted to stay cool.”

Strong arms twisted her around so she was facing the wall, cheek shoved against the rough wallpaper. The force knocked the air from her lungs. 

He bent both her arms behind her back and a strong, sticky substance shot out to bind them in place. She knew the feel of those webs well and a smile danced on her lips. 

She loved being bound.

The pressure of being restrained was like a tiny slice of heaven.  

“Daddy doesn’t like it when you show off, princess.”

He flipped up the back of her dress to palm at her rounded cheek, giving it a harsh slap to the sounds of her delicious yelp. 

“Do you look at other men, too, when they’re looking at you? Do you imagine yourself with them?” 

She gasped in horror at the thought, “Of course not! I would never!”

No other man could ever compare to her husband. Not even in the game they were playing. There was always only Peter.  

He hummed like he disapproved of her answer, “Well…just to be certain...I think we need to make sure you can’t let those eyes wander.”

Something smooth slipped over her eyes, leaving her in the darkness, while he tied the blindfold tightly behind her head. 

Leather. 

She smelled leather. 

She couldn’t remember them ever owning a leather blindfold before. It must have been something Peter picked up when they arrived here but she couldn’t recall a time when he left her sight. 

She liked how heavy it felt against her eyelids. There was no way she could peek through this one. 

“There,” he whispered. “Perfect. Blind to my advances. Lost in the dark. Never knowing when or where I will touch.” 

He gripped her hips and spun her back around to face him. 

A wave of dizziness over took her and she swayed on unsteady, bare feet. 

“Careful, babe,” he whispered with a tenderness to his voice, breaking his haughty charade, and reaching out a hand to steady her. “I got you.”

Peter teased a finger under her chin, leaning down, to kiss her again. Soft and gentle, filled with the love and joy only a newly married man on his honeymoon could give. 

A coil of tension spread throughout her stomach as she melted into him. 

Her mouth opened to willingly accept his tongue past her worshiped lips to kiss him with all the passion she could muster with her hands bound behind her. 

Peter’s own hands couldn’t stay still for long before they began to wander. 

He squeezed her breasts through her dress, molding them to his palm, and rutting his hips into her. 

She moaned, long and drawn out, leaning her head back against the wall so he could attach his lips to her neck. He sucked on her pulse points like a vampire draining blood and she wished he had fangs so she could feel the sting of pain as he sank into her flesh. 

And then he was gone. 

She stumbled forward, nearly losing her footing without him to push against. 

Her head whipped around in the dark to try and find him through sound. 

It was useless. 

He was as silent as a spider.

“Look at the sight of you,” he chuckled, his voice dark and deep, dripping with desire. From the sound of his voice, he was across the room near the window. 

“You have no idea what you look like right now, do you? Don’t fret, I’ll describe it for you.

He was moving. Pacing back and forth down the length of the room against the far wall.

“The strap of your dress is halfway down your arm. The nipple of your left tit keeps poking over the fabric, desperate to be sucked upon. Your hair is already a damn mess and I’ve barely touched it. Your mouth keeps parting like it’s just waiting for a cock to fill it up. A horny little thing, aren’t you?” 

“Mmm,” she moaned, only getting more turned by his descriptions. “Peter. Come back. Touch me.”

“That’s not my name, princess,” he shot back.

His voice sounded different now, like he was up on the ceiling. 

“Daddy,” she begged, craning her blind head upwards toward the sound. “Touch me, Daddy.”

He gave a quiet laugh, “Come get me then.”

He was back on the floor. In a different corner by the bed. Jumping around the room. Silent. With only his voice to guide her. 

She took an unsteady step forward, blindfolded with her hands bound behind her. She didn’t know this hotel room very well. He knew that. 

Which was why he kept moving. Teasing her. Making her work for his love. 

She kept inching ahead, little by little. 

“Tick tock, princess. Daddy doesn’t have all day.” 

Behind her. 

She gasped, whirling around, stumbling back the way she came only to find nothing but air. 

With another step, her body bounced against the wall he had pinned her to and she staggered backwards. 

She tried to spin back to the way she started but was getting all turned around. 

He laughed at her pitiful efforts. 

In front of her again.

Near the windows.

Or maybe the beds? 

Was he at the door? 

She was spinning in circles. Getting disoriented. 

This wasn’t a fair game and she was getting frustrated. Her foot stomped angrily against the rug with a grumpy whine to accompany it. 

“Is my poor princess getting dizzy?”

She had half the thought to plop herself onto the floor and stay there until he came to her. 

But she didn’t want to lose the game. 

She was too stubborn to give up. 

“Watch out,” he warned. Still by the window. At least…she thought that was the direction she was facing. “If you move any more, you’ll run straight into the side of a table. Wouldn’t want my baby girl to get hurt.” 

The table. She remembered where that was in the room. 

He was by the windows. He was close. 

Excitement tumbled around in her stomach as she tasted her nearing victory. 

She shuffled to the left, feeling the table at her hip, and kept going towards the last place she heard his voice. 

Blind and bound until she heard his soft breaths directly in front of her, thankful that he hadn’t moved again. 

“Good girl, you made it,” he whispered. A soft kiss was placed on her lips as a prize. “As a special reward, Daddy’s going to take your dress off, okay, baby? He’ll be really gentle even though he wants to rip it to shreds.” 

She felt him snake an arm around her waist to rip through the webs binding her wrists. She immediately went to reach for him but he slapped her hands away. 

“Hands at your side or else I’ll spank you,” he ordered. “I’m taking my time. I’m in Florence. I’m here to admire the art. Don’t rush me.” 

The zipper at her side slowly inched down until it rested at her hip. 

His big, warm hands slipped under her straps, fingers scraping along her shoulder, as he pushed them down her arms. His head fell down to kiss her shoulder, dragging his lips across her heated skin. 

Her breasts held the dress up but the moment he gave a light tug to the bottom, it yielded quickly and pooled around her ankles on the floor. 

His shuddered breath told her that he was enjoying the view. Bare chested, nipples taut, and in nothing but her underwear and blindfold. 

The underwear didn’t last long. 

Peter slid them down straight after the dress until she was completely nude. 

“More beautiful than The Birth of Venus. We should put you in a frame and have tourists come to gaze upon that instead. Maybe I should dangle you from the wall…all tied up with nowhere to go…I’ll start my own museum right here since you love to be such a tease. I’ll put you on display and have everyone see the kind of beauty I married.” 

She was surprised to feel a wave of appreciative tears dampening her lashes. There was genuine love and admiration behind his words. 

Married. They were married. Finally. 

Her husband. 

She loved that she got to call him that now. 

Cool air breezed against her throbbing clitoris, halting the tears, to remind her how horny he had made her before she was chasing him around the room. She was too hot and eager to think about where that breeze was coming from. Drunk on her love for him. She bucked her hips to try and find some kind of friction for her to grind on. 

She squeezed her thighs together, rubbing them back and forth. 

“What’s the matter, baby?” Peter teased. “Need a hand?” 

“Please,” she gasped. 

“Hmm,” he pretended to think about it. 

She wished she could see him. 

She hated that he was so close but she couldn’t see exactly where. 

“I don’t know. With the way you were strutting around in that dress, showing off to the boys, I don’t know if you deserve my touch. Maybe you deserve to be punished instead? What do you think?”

He didn’t wait for any answer. 

Thwip!

Her left wrist was encased in a sticky, impenetrable substance and she jumped in surprise. 

She was yanked forward until she felt the cool breeze against her bare chest. 

The wind was softly blowing. 

She could feel it rustling through her hair and dragging up the goosebumps along her flesh. 

For the first time, she questioned exactly where in the room she was. 

Why did it feel like outside when they were inside?

“Pete?” Her voice wavered. “What are you-”

Her arm was dragged out to her side and lifted high above her head as she gave a yelp of fright. 

“Not my name, princess,” he chastised from up on the ceiling above her. 

Thwip! 

The same treatment was done to her right arm until she was bound, outstretched, and helpless. 

Her fingers wrapped around the thick web, holding onto it for purchase, as her toes just barely scraped along the floor. 

Peter chuckled to himself in amusement at her struggles, the sound coming from the ground behind her.

Always so damn silent. 

“You look like a sexier version of Jesus on the crucifix. I want to drive nails through those dainty little hands of yours and listen as you cry out for mercy.”

If her eyes weren’t confined under heavy leather, she would have rolled them in response to his dirty talk. 

“That sounds very appealing. Thank you,” her voice was dry and full of sarcasm, refusing to take him seriously.

Slap!

Her entire body jerked forward from the force of his blow against her ass. 

Strong. Stinging. 

Done with direct intention to cause pain. 

Punishing her for the sarcasm. 

She shrieked, mostly from the shock than the hurt, but immediately felt a trickle of wetness run down her thigh. 

“Won’t you be a good girl and remind me of my favorite rule?” 

His hand spread out over the stinging, hot skin of her cheek, giving her swift, hard pats to make sure the pain didn’t disappear too quickly as he spoke. 

She shivered under his touch, “Don’t talk back to Daddy. Ever.”

“Good girl,” he cooed. “Next time use that pretty, little brain of yours and think before you speak.”

Her hair was tangled in his large hand as he shook her head back and forth to further his point. 

“Otherwise, I’ll be forced to ball gag you.”

Fingers slipped between her thighs. 

She parted her legs the best she could for him to get better access to her core. 

A squelching of wet, soaked squishing sounds followed as two long fingers sunk inside of her. 

A low, deep moan of approval rumbled out his throat at the sounds. 

“You are absolutely drenched, my little whore. Something tells me you liked the pain. Maybe you were using that brain after all. Did you like it when Daddy spanks his naughty girl?” 

Her tumbling whines followed as nimble, expert fingers stroked at her pussy, drowning out any worded response she might give. 

Coaxing her to life. 

Waking up all her senses. 

She tried her best to hold her legs open for him despite feeling unsteady in her web binds. She wanted him to give her as much pleasure as he could and that meant letting him have easy access. 

“Does my baby like the pain?” He asked again, running the hand not buried inside of her against her still stinging ass cheek. “Come on, I asked you a question, use your words, pretty girl.”

“Mmm, yes, Daddy. I like it. I like it!”

Smack!

She yelped, throwing her head back as waves of arousal washed over her. The pain from the spank mixed with the pleasure of his touch was enough for another gush of fluids to soak into his hand. 

“Look at how hard your nipples have gotten,” he gave a dreamy sigh. “Oh wait, you can’t. My sweet, blind baby. All lost in the dark with nothing to look at.”  

Her breathing was becoming ragged in her ears. Her body swayed against the webs. 

Knowing hands wrapped around her stomach, leaving the warmth of her cunt, much to her displeasure. 

They trailed upwards, through the valley of her breasts, until they gripped around her neck. 

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp. 

“Guess where I went today?” His voice was nothing more than a low, darkening whisper. 

She couldn’t respond. His hand had tightened around her, softly squeezing, using a mere feather touch of his strength but still able to restrict her air flow. 

“While my princess was napping, Daddy slipped out to buy you some presents. Found myself a little sex shop. You would have loved it,” he mused. “They had vending machines full of toys. Picked myself up a few fun gadgets to play with.” 

He released his hand from around her neck, never wanting to hold her there for too long, and admired the way she gasped for breath. 

Fingers tweaked at her nipples. He hadn’t been lying before, they really were rock hard. She could feel how tight they were from his rough menstruations.

She could hear him rummaging around behind her when something cold dragged across her breasts. 

“Deep breath, princess.” 

Following his warning, the cold, grooved metal clamped down over her left nipple. 

She let out a genuine cry, her back arching from the pain. 

It gripped her tighter than his teeth ever had, dragging her nipple out from her body, and squeezing down painfully hard. 

The groves made it feel like little razors digging into her sensitive flesh. 

Peter huffed out a laugh in a sadistic amusement at her reaction, “You know, when the woman running the store saw these come out of the vending machine, she looked over with a nod and said something like ‘molto doloroso’. Now, I don’t speak much Italian but I’m going to assume it translates to ‘Those hurt like a bitch and your pain whore of a wife will love them.’ Am I right?”

She choked out a sob, squirming uncomfortably against the webs, “Ow. It hurts…too much…hate ‘em.”

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s another one right here! It’ll help balance out the pain so both those beautiful tits get a turn.” 

Another agonizing clamp bit down against her other nipple. The sharp, grooved metal felt like it might rip her nipple straight off her breast. 

The nipple clamps they had at home were capped with a smooth rubber. These were bare and ready to grip on to her tender skin with the strength of a fucking bear trap. 

She let out a full scream the moment it bit down, thrashing her body in an attempt to get away from the clamps. Crocodile tears rolled down her cheek from under the blindfold. 

“Shh, shh, shh!” 

A heavy hand cut off her cries by wrapping around her mouth. His breath was against her ear, hushing her, soothing her, running his lips over her forehead with quick kisses.

“Not so loud, baby,” he whispered. “You’ll draw a crowd with those cries.” 

“What?” She gasped through heavy, pained breaths. “Crowds?”

Peter’s hands reached up to slide the blindfold up off her eyes and tossed it onto the floor. 

He took a step to the side, watching her blink in confusion, as her tear blurred sight came back into focus. 

She had forgotten about the breeze. 

He had distracted her. 

Kept her mind occupied so she wouldn’t ask questions. 

She was tied up, stark naked, and splayed out directly in front of the arched floor to ceiling window overlooking the streets of Florence. 

The top half of the glass was pushed open, letting in the cool evening summer breeze, and making sure nothing muffled the sounds of her screams. 

And she had been screaming. 

“Peter!” She cried in horror, paranoid that anyone could look up and see her. They weren’t that high up in the hotel. Any curious person who decided to glance upwards would certainly catch her out in all her glory. 

Wack!

The sound of her sore ass being slapped filled her ears. 

Nothing could hurt more than her breasts at the moment and she welcomed the familiar pain his hands brought. 

She also couldn’t deny that growing, aching pressure happening between her legs. Her masochistic tendencies had yet to fail her. 

“Not my name,” he scolded. 

She whined, bouncing her leg against the floor in protest, and trying to tug at her bindings. 

“Let me down!”

She knew full well that those webs would never give but it didn’t stop her from giving it a shot. 

He leaned against the wall beside the open window, arms crossed, a prideful smirk sitting on his smug face, watching her struggle. 

“I told you I was going to put you on display.”

She never thought he meant it literally. 

Tears burned in her eyes at the wave of shame at being so exposed.

At least the shock helped to dull the pain in her breasts.

She scanned the tight streets below and was thankful to see that no one was stopped and staring. 

Yet. 

Her watchful eyes followed Peter as he pushed off from the wall and moved behind her.

Breath caught in her throat as his fingers found a home back inside of her drenched pussy. 

“Still as wet as ever, I see,” he noted. “You can cry and beg and plead all you want but Daddy knows the truth. He sees behind your tears.” 

Slick fingers circled around her aching clit. 

Toying with it. 

Teasing her. 

“You like being held up on a pedestal.”

A long, skinny middle finger sunk inside of her. 

Her head rolled back. Eyes closed. 

“You like people hearing you cum.”

His thumb on her clit. 

Brushing. Stroking.

Building her pleasure. 

“You like having others watch as your Daddy pleasures his princess.” 

In and out. 

Slowly penetrating her with his finger. 

Tending dutifully to that tiny bundle of nerves.

“You like the pain.”

He flicked at her nipple clamps. 

Sending shots of pain throughout her breasts.

Electrifying her. 

Soothing it over with those wonderful ministrations at her pussy. 

“You love me and you’ll let me do anything I want to your gorgeous body…isn’t that right?”

She whimpered. 

Eyes closed tight. 

Feeling that build of orgasmic pleasure rising. 

“I love you,” she breathed back, tears in her eyes. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He practically purred in her ear. 

Or maybe it was a growl. 

Whatever it was, the noise caused her cunt to gush in reply. 

He chucked, “That’s it baby, you’re so close. I can feel you tightening around my fingers. What do you say we give the people a show?”

He was gone. 

Leaving her empty. 

Dripping. 

Pathetically whining and begging for a finish. 

“Don’t worry, princess,” he called from the other end of the room. “Daddy bought some more toys. He’s going to treat his baby tonight.” 

She listened to the zipping of a bag as he rustled through to find what he was looking for. 

Her chest rose and fell in anticipation. Each breath brought back the dulling sting from her nipples. She tried to keep still, terrified more movement would draw attention upwards toward the window. 

She gave a quiet shudder at the thought and tried to imagine what she would look like from down below. 

The image brought a glint of a wicked smile to her lips. 

Something small and chilly brushed against her back door and she yelped in surprise. 

Slap!

“Hold still!” He scolded. 

The sound of a bottle squirting caused her to try to careen her head around to see what he was doing behind her.  

She managed to catch a glimpse of the butt plug he held in his hand. 

It looked a bit bigger than the small one they used at home but had the same metal teardrop shape. A red jewel flattened out the end. 

“Figured this was the next size up from your old friend. You leveled up from girlfriend to wife. Time to level up in other areas, too.”

Lube smeared over her tight hole as the cold, rounded point pushed against it. 

Not even a warm up with his fingers first. 

Peter really was in a dominant, pent up mood.

Her eyes slipped closed and her head fell back against her arched spine. She let out a deep breath, relaxing her body as much as she could, so it could slide in easier. 

“Ah, ow,” she gasped, hissing in pain. “Oh, fuck.”

Slow and steady he sunk it into her. 

He held it there, stopped in place, over the thickest part of the teardrop. Forcing her body to stretch to the foreign object. 

She tried to control her whines from being too loud. Her thighs trembled under her. Her face contorted into pain and her jaw clenched. 

More lube trickled down between her crack to help the little device along as Peter took note of her tensing body. 

“There you go, baby,” he encouraged. “Nice and easy. Breathe through it.”

He teased it through her ass, pushing it in a little ways and pulling it back out, making her continue to take on the thickest part of the plug just to keep up to torture a bit longer. 

“Please, Daddy,” she whimpered. “Just put it in. Please.”

“Aww, does my sweet baby need her ass filled? You’re Daddy’s little fuck toy. Daddy’s going to have any hole he wants. You have no say in where he ends up.” 

He refused to move it past the diameter, holding it steady. 

“Did you happen to catch the color of that tacky, little jewel they stuck on the end?” 

He pulled it back out. 

Teasing just the tip.

Exciting the bundle of sensory nerves around her anus and making her wriggle around. 

“Spider-Man red. Just for you.”

Finally, he eased the entire thing inside of her. 

“Ahhh!” She wailed. “Fuck!”

Filling her up. 

Swallowing the plug. 

Feeling it heavy inside of her. 

“So you’ll always remember who owns this ass.” 

Smack!

His hand came down hard against her bruising cheek. 

Ecstasy coursed through her veins at the sting. 

She was so full. Stretched and heavy. Uncomfortably aroused. 

An arm snaked up her own outstretched one to brush his fingers over her wedding ring, lacing his fingers with hers.

His bare chest pressed against her back, grinding his hips over her ass.  

His face fell against her neck, inhaling her scent, nuzzling his nose against her.

“My beautiful wife,” he breathed. “All tied up. Horny for her husband. Put out on display for all of Florence to see.”

Fingers wrapped around her waist to dip through her pubic hair, finding her heated crevice, needy for his touch. 

Palming. Flicking. Penetrating. 

“Nipples clamped. Ass filled. My name, cursed forever on your lips. All you need now is a cock to fill that empty cunt.” 

He fished it from the confines of his boxers. 

Dragging it along her soaked valley. 

Feeling it pulsate against her waiting lips. 

“No!” She gasped, staring down at the people below. 

She knew once he started to fuck her she couldn’t keep quiet. Her voice would soar out the open window and onto the people below. 

They would look. 

They would see her. 

“What if-” Her breath quickened. “What if someone looks up? They’ll hear me. They’ll look. I know they will.”

She didn’t need to see his face to know Peter had a cheshire cat grin growing. The sound of his voice was enough to hear his rising libido. 

“Then they’ll see a little princess fucking herself on her Daddy’s cock.” 

The bulbous head of his thick rod pressed between her folds. 

Sinking in. 

Stretching her out. 

He hesitated there. Stilling behind her. 

“Go on, baby. Fuck yourself. Let everyone see what a whore you can be.”

She almost didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to give in. She could play games, too. 

Her breath held in her lungs. Closing her eyes. Biting down on her bottom lip. 

Peter waited. 

The crown of his manhood nestled patiently in her pussy, being squeezed by her heated walls, kissed by her slick. 

Letting her throw her silent tantrum. 

She hung there, counting the seconds, fighting the urge to move, trying to breathe through her body’s desires.

Her legs were trembling. Her toes ached from holding her weight. 

It would be so easy to just…ease back…impale herself on his sword…give up. 

She could hear his labored breaths behind her. Smelled his cologne. Felt him twitching inside of her. 

“Close the windows,” she struggled to whimper out through her held breaths. “Let’s go to the bed. Take me there. Fuck me there. I’ll let you do anything you want. Just…not…not in front of the window.”

Peter tutted his tongue, “Since when has Daddy ever let you make the demands, hmm?”

He reached his hands up to her shoulders and gave a gentle push, getting tired of her defiance, “When I tell you to fuck yourself, you fuck yourself. I’m not going to do it for you.” 

Even the smallest of shoves from her shoulders was enough for her tiptoed feet to give out. She stumbled back, feeling his cock sink deeper. 

She let out a strangled cry. 

“No! On the bed. Bring to me to the bed!”

Her eyes were squeezed shut, refusing to see the window in front of them, torn between finding it extremely arousing and positively mortifying. 

“I’m sorry, princess. The bed is for good girls. The bed is for well behaved women who don’t wear little dresses and shake their ass as they walk for all the men to stare at. The bed is for lovers.” His hand gripped around her hair and shoved her face towards the window. “The window is for whores who get off on pain and love the attention their Daddy gives them.”

His voice lowered into a commanding, deep tone, “Open your fucking eyes and look at your audience.”

She blinked through the flow of overly emotional tears clinging to her lashes and forced her eyes open. 

People lined the tight, winding streets, walking lazily to their destination. Not one glanced up at them. Not one seemed to notice her out on display, front and center, above their heads. Peter was protected behind her body. She would be the one they see. 

Framed by the window. 

Art. 

That’s what he called her earlier. 

She was art and Peter, the artist. 

Helpless to whatever ways he wanted to exhibit her 

Little by little she sunk back onto his cock. Taking him into her. Eyes rolling back. Submitting to his demands until he bottomed out.

His chorus of pleased moans let her know he had won. 

She let her body get used to him inside of her. Her pussy knew his cock well by now but she liked to reacquaint them carefully every time they would meet. 

Peter was always a bit of a stretch. 

With the girthier plug shoved in her ass, her arms bound and outstretched, and her nipples screaming in pain, she felt the need to move a little slower with her pussy today. 

Gradual, small movements, easing herself up off his cock and then impaling herself back down. 

Slow and steady. 

She shifted on her toes, rocking her hips back and forth, taking him with longer and longer strides as her shameful whimpers grew into desperate cries. 

“There you go,” he murmured, brushing her hair back off her shoulder to nip at her skin with his teeth. “Ride Daddy’s cock, babygirl. Show everyone how good you can take it.”

Her own slick coated his shaft, making it slip through her without resistance.

He stayed fairly still behind her apart from making sure his hips were pressed forward enough for her to have easy access to his body. 

She was getting into a rhythm. Starting to get lost in the feelings. 

But, the harder she fucked herself, the more her breasts would sway. 

The more they moved, the more pain the clamps created as they bit down like they might cut clean through her flesh. 

It was getting to the point where it might be too much pain for her to enjoy and ruining her momentum on his cock. 

She hissed, biting down on her lip, trying to endure it the best she could manage. 

Peter shifted behind her, bringing his lips to her ear, and whispering for reassurance, “Color?”

She swallowed, trying to decide exactly what she was feeling, “G-green?”

He stilled her by gripping onto her hips, keeping himself buried inside her warmth, but moving his head around in an attempt to better see her face. 

“You sure? You don’t sound sure.”

She nodded, breathing heavily, “Almost yellow. Not quite though. But almost.”

“Which part?” He trailed loving kisses of safety along her neck, wrapping his arms around her waist to hug her sweetly from behind. 

“The clamps.” When she saw his hands immediately move to take them off her, she hurried to add. “Not yet! I…still like them…but soon, okay?”

“Soon,” he agreed, giving her one more adoration infused kiss to her cheek, before slipping back into character. “Daddy never told his little princess to stop, did he?” 

To shove her back into the role, he slapped her ass with three hard, lashing blows of his open palm. 

Each slap caused her breasts to bounce, sending shooting shocks of pure, agonizing pain through her body and a rush of warmth to her cunt. 

Pain and pleasure. Her favorite combination. 

“Looks like the sweet little angel is getting quite the bruise back here. If you keep misbehaving, you won’t be able to sit down for our breakfast tomorrow. Then everyone will know what a bad, little whore you’ve been.”

She whined in response, bucking her hips backwards to find his cock again, needing more pleasure to balance out the scales. 

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

He soothed his hands over her shoulders, pushing her down, sinking her onto his length.

“My pain hungry baby.” 

It wasn’t difficult to fall back into her previous rhythm. Her cunt was soaked and starving for its lover to come back home. 

“Fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Let those people down there know how much you love me. Be louder, princess. I want them to hear.”

She whimpered out a tiny cry. 

Her motions grew frantic the more he continued to talk dirty in her ear. 

That tiny cry grew into loud, unadulterated, guttural moans. 

The sounds of a whore taking her favorite cock. 

She struggled against the webs binding her. Her shoulders were starting to ache. Her arms were losing feeling. 

Her body was stretched tight. Nipples crying. Ass sore. The weight of the plug was even more noticeable with his cock pushing in and out of her. 

It felt like it was bouncing inside of her each time he pushed under it. 

Her toes hurt from being hung up on such an unsteady height. 

“Peter- Daddy,” she gasped. “Daddy, please…” 

She didn’t know what she was asking for.  

Some kind of relief. 

Something steadier. Something more concrete. 

“Shh, baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s got you.” 

He reached around to her chest with both hands, simultaneously unclamping her nipples from their prison. 

Fire erupted in its place as the blood rushed back. 

A new kind of pain bloomed. 

Searing and hot. 

Her breasts were in flames. 

She cried out. Loud and sharp. 

At the same moment, Peter ripped her down from the webs, still embedded on his cock as he wrapped her up in tight arms and pushed her flat against the window. 

Her hips pressed against the cool glass but her torso nearly bent out the opening. 

Her anguished nipples happily sought out the cool breeze. Soothing over the sting. Settling her inflamed body. Not caring who looked up. 

Peter gripped onto her hips so he could better ram into her. Her job was over. She had done what he wanted. 

Now it was his turn to take over. 

Her body surrendered to him. 

“Ugnnn,” she whined. “Fuck!!” 

Her hands clenched into fists against the glass. Her back arched. 

Eyes wide. 

Taking his thrusts with near drooling moans. 

His rigid shaft drove into her, surging deep up inside, stretching her walls and drawing out the most luscious rumbles of pleasure. 

His balls slapped up against her. The sound echoing around their vaulted ceiling. 

Filling her. Stuffing her full.

Both holes used and defiled. 

She couldn’t stop the noises she was making. Throaty moans, shrieking cries, babbling coos.

He was getting it all out of her.  

Someone was watching. Looking at them. Spying them from down below. 

A young couple.

“Daddy!” She sobbed. “They’re-”

“Shh,” he hushed her. “I know, baby. I see ‘em, too. They like what they see. They’re talkin’ about us. Enjoyin’ it.” 

A broken cry fell from her lips and she stared down through her tears at the couple. 

Her eye sight wasn’t the greatest. She couldn’t make out their faces very clearly but neither of them looked horrified. 

They looked…giggly…

The woman was running her hand along her partner's arm. His hand disappeared behind her back and traveled down to her ass. 

Harder and harder Peter slammed. 

She was being ravaged by his strength. Losing the ability to make any noise. 

Nothing but silent, open mouthed gasps and a raining of tears were all that came out. 

“Too-” He grunted, crashing into her again. “Hard?” 

Through a shuddering, gasping breath, she managed to choke out, “Don’t you fucking stop.”

As long as Peter was fucking her like this, he could do it any way he wanted. He could drag her out onto the streets and fuck her at that nosy couples feet if he pleased. 

It was his art show. He held the control. 

He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Didn’t pause. 

His finger marks would be bruised into the soft flesh of her hips for the upcoming days with how tightly he gripped them. 

She held eye contact with the watching woman down below. Stared straight at her. Sizing her up, silently challenging her to get as good a fuck from her partner as she was from Peter.

She wanted to make her jealous. Or horny.

Either was fine as long as the woman was thinking of her.  

“Yes, Daddy!” She cried, loud enough for her voice to carry down below. “Feels so good! Making your little girl feel so good!” 

She knew damn well Peter’s face was cast in the shadows behind her. The idea of this couple truely thinking she was being fucked by her own father made her laugh under her breath.

“Somethin’ funny, princess?” His voice was getting strained and she knew that meant he was getting closer to his release.

“Just enjoying my fans,” she gasped back. “They love what you’re doing.”

Her eyes were wild as she breathed in the fresh air. 

She felt free. 

She was married and in love. They were on their honeymoon in Italy. 

She was getting absolutely pounded by her husband in full view of a watching, interested couple.

She should be embarrassed, ashamed. 

But all she felt was bliss. 

That plunging, relentless cock, massaging her channel, thick veins grazing over that tender g-spot whenever she angled her body correctly, the weight of the plug in her ass, her aching nipples…

Everything was pushing her straight towards her final hurdle. 

Without much warning, it suddenly became all too much. No build up. 

Just explosions.  

A wave of ferocious, intense pleasure roared over her, sweeping her up, taking her by surprise. 

She came hard and fast. 

Sheiking. Crying out. 

Thrashing against the window, leaning half way out of it, trying to gasp for air. 

Peter grabbed at her hair to yank her back inside like he was terrified of losing her over the edge. 

“Fuck, princess,” he grunted. “Where ya goin’?” 

Her ears defended under the rush of blood swelling to her head but she was certain she was screaming in ecstasy from the way Peter’s hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her sounds. 

She contracted tightly around his cock, squeezing him, using him to further her explosion of pleasure, still feeling the stinging pain of her breasts to only shove her deeper into subspace. 

On and on her orgasm went. Unstoppable. As Peter kept driving into her and furiously rubbing his fingers over her clit. 

He kept her heightened. Overloaded. Knowing that it would destroy her.

She had the brief sensation of feeling him cumming inside of her. Feeling the spurt of warmth. Feeling full. 

But her agonizing long orgasm only served to weaken her rational thinking. She no longer existed. She was no longer on solid ground. 

Floating. Drifting through space. 

Lost amongst the stars. 

Finally, her body gave up. 

Finally, the orgasm came to a simmering hault. 

She was done. 

She hung limply against the window pane. Eyes rolling in her head. Twitching and whimpering. 

Peter scooped her into his protective arms, cradling her against his chest, peering his face to see their onlookers. 

“Shows over!” He called down to them. “Fuck off!”

Without his raging, pent up, sexual energy to seize control of his brain, he no longer liked the idea of anyone getting to view his naked wife besides him. His protective nature spiked to replace his dwindling arousal and he turned his back to the window to shield her with his body. 

He carried her away from their stares back into the safety of privacy where she belonged.  

She made no protests or struggles as their game finished. Her head hung limp against his shoulder. 

“My sweet girl,” he murmured in her ear. She was being placed on their bed. “Daddy’s going to clean you up. Wait here.”

Time wasn’t real. 

She blinked and he reappeared holding a warm, wet cloth to her legs. 

Over her thighs. 

Spreading her open. 

Cupping it against her used and battered sex. 

Gently cleaning away their mess. 

“There,” he whispered. “All better.”

Peter crawled into bed in front of her, wrapping an arm over her waist and kissing at the tip of her nose. 

Gradually, she returned to her body, her mind drifting slowly back into her skull. 

“Mmmm,” she groaned. “Everything hurts. Think you broke me.”

He chuckled to himself, soothing a hand over an abused nipple, “Sweet girl. I’ll try to find you some ice in a minute. But, right now, I’m not leaving your side until you fully wake up. Rest, baby. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” 

When she adjusted herself on the bed, sliding a leg through his, she took note of the fact that the plug was still snuggly lodged inside of her. 

Their night was only just beginning. 

He had left it there on purpose. 

She kind of liked it. 

Maybe she would wear it out to dinner…

#andrew garfield #tasm #the amazing spiderman #peter parker #tasm x reader #tasm fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter x reader fic #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader fic #spiderman #spiderman fic #the exhibit #blooming violets fic #blooming violets

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Nightlife 3

Warnings: dark elements to come. Proceed with caution.

Note: I know what you’re thinking, why the fuck are you doing this? Well, you wanted bouncer Lee and I did too. Also, short!reader, not sorry.

Raquel is hung over worse than ever. She can barely get off the couch as you hover anxiously. Watching her makes you wonder why people drink, it doesn’t seem very fun.

“Ugh, thanks,” she groans as you bring her a cup of coffee, “jeez, I can’t believe I don’t even remember last night.”

“Mm, yeah,” you put the cup on the small crate that acts as a table, “I’m glad you called me.”

She yawns before taking a long gulp of coffee. “I owe you! For getting me back here. I can’t believe you did that all alone.”

You nod and give a close-lipped smile. You don’t mention that it’s not the first time. That you’ve heard this all before. You like Raquel, she’s one of the only friends you’ve made at college, but you don’t like her habits. At least she didn’t bring anyone with her this time. You don’t mention that you did. Technically.

“I should study,” you excuse yourself, “got an early lecture tomorrow.”

“Hon, can you get me some advil first?” She touches her forehead dramatically and pouts, “please.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You retrieve the bottle of ibuprofen and leave it beside her coffee cup. She’s well enough to scroll through her insta and giggle to herself. You don’t know how she can’t be mortified. She’s forgotten a whole night and anything could’ve happened.

It almost did and it’s all your fault. You retreat to your room as the thought tugs at your nerves. That man was nice but you’re lucky he was. It was only after he left that you remembered the safety talk you got your first day on campus. The classic stranger danger narrative. 

You are so stupid! You let him come back here and didn’t even realise until after the discrepancy. You still can’t figure how he knew your address and doubt creeps up as you wonder if maybe you told him amid the chaos of Raquel’s black out.

You get your books out and perch up by your pillows. You don’t have much reading to do but you need the distraction. Ever since your first classes, you’ve felt behind. No matter how much you cram, you just feel like you’re missing something. The same could be said of most situations.

Your phone vibrates on your night table. You don’t check it right away as you reread the same paragraph. You hate psychology. Too bad it’s your whole major. You don’t know if you can handle it. Even if your father thinks it’s your best option.

Your phone goes off again, this time rattling consistently. Who would be calling? You don’t get phone calls, not even from home.

You stare at the private caller flashing on the screen before you find the courage to answer. You choke out a confused ‘hello’, readying yourself to politely decline whatever they’re selling.

“Hey, little darling, how are you doin’? Get lots of sleep?” The drawl seeps from the speaker like molasses. It’s him.

“Lee?”

“It’s me, sweetheart,” he confirms, “I was just callin’ to see if you’re free this afternoon. I got the night off and… I’m gonna be true, I can’t stop thinking about ya.”

“Oh,” your eyes round as you pick at the corner of a textbook, “I’m just studying…”

“Studying? Well, I could bring the ice cream to you, how ‘bout that?”

“Erm, no,” you peek over at the door. You don’t know if Raquel would be okay with that, not in her state. “I… does it have to be today?”

No. Why can’t you just say no? Not now is always easier.

“I s’pose not,” his disappointment is transparent, “I just figured… I don’t know when you got classes and I work most nights…”

You cup your cheek as it scalds. Suddenly you feel bad. For being suspicious of him. For thinking the worst. He doesn’t sound very harmful and he got Raquel back safe. You know you would’ve been lost in that club.

Meet in a public place. That’s what the campus police said. 

“Okay, um, I can meet you.”

“Nah, I’ll come pick you up,” he offers, his tone easing.

“I’ll meet you,” you insist, voice wobbling, “it’s fine.”

“Alright,” he relents, “you ever been to that play on Harding?”

💮

You tell Raquel you’re going to the library. In an effort to shield your lie, you bring your bookbag. You might just swing by after ice cream. It might help you actually digest the words that seem to bounce back off your brain.

You wear a pair of pale blue chambray pants with a striped yellow top. It’s nothing special but neither is this. You’re just paying back a favour.

You catch the bus down to Woodrow, a block from Harding and walk the rest of the way. The ice cream shop is on the corner marked by a painted wooden sign. Est. 1898. You wonder how they kept the ice cream cold then, but you’re no historian.

You hesitate just before you come into view of the windows. It’s a public place but he’s still a stranger. Even if you know his name, you don’t really know him.

“There ya are,” Lee’s voice carries across the street as he crosses, “good timin’.”

“Oh, hi,” you clasp tight the strap of your bag, “I…”

“Was just finding a spot,” he explains as he steps onto the curb. 

He’s taller than you remember. You think. Your memory is skewed with flashing lights and adrenaline. The gray woven into his brown hair is more obvious as well and there’s a shadow of stubble along his jaw. His stomach bulges beneath his open leather jacket but you won’t begrudge him a few extra pounds. 

“Yeah, uh,” you rub your neck, “I… took the bus.”

“I told ya, I would given ya a ride,” he chides.

“Sorry,” you avert your eyes guiltily. “I didn’t want to bother–”

“Ain’t no bother,” he strides to the door and pulls it open, “so, you got a flavour in mind, blossom?”

You don’t move right away. You have to unstick your feet from the pavement, reluctance making you stiff and shaky. It’s alright, there’s people around, he can’t do anything. Besides, he’s nice, isn’t he? You’re just having ice cream.

You precede him inside as the door jingles behind him. You go up to the counter and focus on the many flavours listed on hand-written cards beneath the glass. He comes up beside you, looming over you, his leather sleeve almost brushing yours.

“Hi, how can I help you today?” The young girl behind the counter chimes.

“Ladies first,” Lee insists.

You flick your eyes up and blink. You clear your throat, “can I, uh, try the black cherry, please?”

“Sure, how many scoops?”

“Just one. Erm, can I get a bowl?”

“Sure thing, and you sir?”

Lee orders the strawberry cheesecake flavour in a waffle bowl. You almost regret not getting anything fancier but you’ve always gone for simple things. You don’t like a fuss.

You swing your bag around as you get to the till but Lee is quick to offer a twenty to the cashier. “Put it away, blossom,” he orders, “it’s on me.”

He drops some change in the tip cup before tucking the rest away. He takes your order from the ledge and leads you to the small booth in the corner. You slide onto the teal cushion as he sets down your black cherry.

“I woulda guessed different,” he muses as he cracks his waffle bowl with his spoon, “black cherry. My daddy only ever got that.”

“Oh, uh, I like it,” you scrape away the ice cream with the plastic cutlery.

“Nothin’ wrong with it but a sweet girl like you, woulda guessed… strawberry? That’s classic. Or butterscotch. That’s my favourite.”

“Mhmm,” you don’t know what to say. That’s not unusual. Awkward silences are your only skill.

You scoop up a mouthful and shove the spoon through your lips. You take several bites as you wilt in the tension and you look up as he hums. He watches you intently, his eyes on your mouth as you drag it slowly between your lips.

He catches himself and sits back. He pushes his shoulders wide and gives a grin, spinning his spoon between his large fingers.

“So, you in school?” He asks, “whatcha takin’?”

You sniff and poke at the melting scoops, “psych.”

“Psychology. Wow, that’s something. You must be a smart girl, huh?”

“I… I try,” you shrug, “I don’t know. It’s a lot of work.”

“Sure is. I skipped all that. Did a stint in the marines some time back and when I got out, well, ain’t much out there for a man like me.”

You nod as you search for anything to say. You don’t like talking about yourself. Besides, he really doesn’t need to know that much.

“You like working down there? At the, um, club or whatever?”

“Not bad. Free drinks,” he chuckles and eases back against the seat, stretching his arm towards you as he drapes it over the back, “I get to help sweet things like yourself.”

You can’t help a bashful smile. You look down at your bowl and take another cautious bite of ice cream. You still feel out of place and you’re sure if someone saw you, they would think the same. You peek up at him, his gaze constant, and you can’t help but wonder how old he is. Surely too old for this to be anything but friendly.

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #the devil all the time #au #drabble #series #nightlife

[thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed]

Unexpected

Word count: 1.9K

Summary: request here

Warnings: angst, mentions of Depression

Pairing: Vada Cavell X Fem!Reader

———

It had been a three months ever since the shooting, and you were slowly getting more comfortable in school again. It was hard, getting back pretending that you were alright, and slowly but surely, you were managing. Sure, it would have been easier if you had someone who went through the same shit by your side, so you could “help” each other go through the pain, but the only help you ever received was one from a psychologist who knew nothing about how it felt, because she never was in a school shooting. You had friends in school and sure they went through it too, but they were soon over everything, they recovered quickly, so the only Friend written with capital F you had was Vada. You had met her during the first year of high school and you immediately clicked together, your feelings eventually turning into something more, but you never found the guts to tell her.

“Hey (Y/N)!” Vada said, catching up to you as you were speed-walking to your next class. “It’s been ages since we last spent an evening together! Do you want to come have lunch at my place and maybe we can watch a movie next?” She asked, walking this fast had always been hard for her, that’s why she tripped on her own shoelaces. “I can’t, I have to study. History test, remember?” You said, not even giving her a look of acknowledgment as you walked faster, making her stop dead in her tracks as she sighed and walked to her own class. She felt like you didn’t want to be her friend anymore, she felt as if you were ignoring her… no, you were indeed avoiding and ignoring her, and it made her upset, did she do anything to you that made you upset? She’s done nothing but wanting to stay at your side… or maybe not.

“You don’t get it mom! She’s acting so weird, she keeps avoiding me without an apparent reason!” Vada blurted out while sitting on the kitchen counter, legs crossed as she ate some peanuts, venting to her like she always did after the shooting. “Are you sure that there’s no apparent reason like you say?” Her mother asked, she was cleaning the dishes after having lunch. “Yes I’m sure! These past two weeks I’ve been always texting her and asking her to spend time together but she always dismisses me or gives me cold replies-“ her mother was quick to interrupt her. “You’ve given yourself an answer already, Vada. You said “the last two weeks” but ever since the shooting she has been worried sick about you. She texted you every day, you have no idea how many times she came here looking for you and you were never home, every time I had to tell her you were with Mia” Vada looked down. And when you weren’t home, she’d constantly facetime you on your laptop, it would ring nonstop for two hour hours straight, until one day I gave in and replied”

Two months earlier…

You were panicking like your usual in the afternoon when you were home alone, you kept on thinking about the shooting, how you could die and almost did, and how you just needed someone to hug you and tell you it was going to be alright, so you were trying to facetime Vada for two hours straight now, not getting a reply until you did, but it wasn’t Vada, it was her mother. You quickly wiped your tears and sniffled “Miss Cavell, hi..” you said, trying not to let her hear the evident shake in your voice. “I’m taking it that Vada is at Mia’s place?” Vada’s mother looked at you with a sad look in her eyes and nodded. “I figured… I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I’ll hang up now, will you please tell her I called?” You asked, the woman was about to say yes, but then she figured that if you’d called Vada, it meant that you needed someone to talk to. “Yes I will. But now why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you? I can only tell that it’s about the shooting so please, just go ahead and tell me everything. I know it’s something hard to deal with.” And you did, that time you just told her everything. You cried and vented, letting her give you the comfort you desperately needed from your best friend.

“I could only tell what she felt but She was desperate Vada. She was broken, Depressed, scared, traumatized. She needed her best friend’s help, she needed you yet you were nowhere to be seen. I’m not quite sure what she felt but I can tell for sure that she felt and feels replaced. One day you were best friends with her and the next you replace her with some girl you just met, how would you have felt?” Vada kept on looking down. Her mother was right after all, but she was too busy being with Mia to even notice that her friend was slowly slipping away from her. “She stopped coming here, she stopped calling. She gave up, because she knew that if she’d ask for you, you’d never be there for her and now she’s upset because of this and she has every right to be, Vada. And you have no rights to be upset because she’s ignoring this when clearly you started this first. I’m telling you this stuff because clearly you didn’t realize this until now and for your own good I’m telling you to whatever’s in your power to fix this friendship. (Y/N)’s the most genuine person I ever met, and she’s the best friend you could ever ask for so don’t waste this.”

It was obvious to her mother’s eyes that the two girls felt something stronger than just a friendship for each other. However she always promised her daughter not to interfere in her love life so she left this detail out of the conversation, but the least she could do was give her daughter tips on how not to lose you. All that she said was true. She did ignore you, but she never meant to ignore you for too long, she hadn’t even realized that it had been three months after the shooting. She had lost perception of time. “Can I go to her place?” Vada simply asked her mother, who nodded and gave a small sad smile. Vada was soon out of her home and running to your house. She knew your parents would be working and you would be at home alone.

“(Y/N)?” She called for you as she rang the bell. “It’s me, Vada, can we talk? Please?” The girl asked as she took a peak in your house from the window, until she saw you come open the door and she smiled goofily. You didn’t reciprocate it, but you looked at her when you opened the door. “Hi” she said and kept on smiling but her smile soon dropped when she saw your face “just come in” you told her, and when you were two in your living room you started talking. “what do you want Vada?” You asked her. Of course you were upset with her. “Nothing I-I’m worried about you… I haven’t seen you around, I haven’t seen you at football practice.. are you okay?” She asked, you were trying so hard not to snarl at her “but I don’t want you to be worried at me Vada. Because recently you’ve showed me that you don’t care” you said and looked at her with a sad smirk.

“But I do care-“ “no you don’t Vada! That’s the fucking problem, you say you care, you’re convinced you do but you don’t! After the shooting you completely shut me off, you ignored me, my messages, my calls even though your mother always told you that I’d step by or call you, yet not once did you bother even ask me how I was doing, how do you think I felt, Vada? How would you feel if the girl you love started ignoring you suddenly and started spending time with a stranger? Huh? I was always, ALWAYS trying to check on you and what did I get in return? Nothing, I got nothing” you said, tears started forming in your eyes. “While you were safely hiding in the bathroom with your new best friend I was face to face with Matt Corgan. Yeah, the shooter. Remember him? I used to tutor him. This is the only reason why he spared me” you said and your started breathing heavily, some tears leaving your eyes.

“(Y/N)…” she knew you were going into full panic attack and she didn’t want you to. However you ignored her. “I saw life flash before my eyes. He pointed the gun to my head and he threatened me to kill me if I ran and called the police and for almost two months I tried talking to you, I needed you, I needed my best friend yet you were nowhere to be seen and I felt alone, Vada… I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life and it was your fault! You can’t just fucking push away the people that care about you” you said and turned around, you weren’t facing her anymore. Hands in your hair as your breath quickened “FUCK!” You yelled and started kicking the whatever you could find in the living room. “Dude, calm down-“ she tried, but you weren’t listening to her.

At some point Vada ran over to you, not caring if she got hurt as she tried hugging you from behind “no, no no- let me go!” You sobbed out, yet she wasn’t having any of it. She tried to calm you down with you squirming around, not wanting her to hug you as you tried to get away from her soft but firm grip. Eventually she managed to move you against the sofa, making you lay down on it as she straddled you to keep you still, hands holding your wrists. “(Y/N), calm down please!” She said but you weren’t having any of it. Vada didn’t know what to try to calm you down… until she did. She leaned down and kissed you, until she felt you relax your body and let out a shaky sigh, but you kissed her back. God you had been waiting for this moment forever, yet you never expected it to actually happen, you never expected her to reciprocate your feelings.

At some point Vada pulled back slightly, foreheads touching as she looked at you, her look being a soft one. You looked at her with tears in your eyes, they had stopped flowing out. “This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven” you whispered. She giggled and then kissed you again.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #vada cavell #wednesday #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday adams #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader

[watchmegetobsessed]

FAMILY FIRST

A/N: our fav little family has had so many lovely fluffy fics, though i would take it to a bit more serious direction! also, i didn't want the week to pass without a new fic especially since i reached 11k followers which is just absolutely crazy!! so thank you so much for each and every one of you!!

PAIRING: husband!dad!Harry X Reader

SUMMARY: Harry is a great dad, but sometimes he messes it up and you have to remind him that family comes first.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

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Harry knows your silence is worse than when you scream and shout at him. Whenever you give him radio silence he knows he fucked up, royally.

This week has been way more hectic than usually. Harry’s been traveling a lot lately, leaving you alone with the kids for days at a time and though you knew there would be times when he can’t be around as much as he usually does, with Leo here it’s even harder than before.

You have help, lots of it actually, Anne, Gemma and your parents are always happy to take over some babysitting duties and you have a trustin nanny as well, but you and Harry have always been the type of parents who like to do everything themselves. Your life is crazy enough already since you’re married to a celebrity, but especially because of that, you want your private everydays to be as normal as possible. 

You’ve always been supportive when it came to Harry’s career, but you also made it very clear that you expect him to put his family first. And for most of the time he kept his promises he made to you about being a father first and then an artist.

However sometimes things pile up around him and he forgets his priorities.

He came home just yesterday from LA, his tan is a clear sign he’s been away from his home country. He has a few days at home until he needs to leave again, so it was obvious this time would be reserved for his family and daddy duties. Unfortunately some last minute work came up and he needed to meet up with Jeff and his team in the middle of his time off.

You rescheduled your plans and Anne offered to take care of the cooking which was supposed to be Harry’s task while you’re running errands. In the afternoon he promised to pick Ellie up from her dance class while you get the twins from school, and he was supposed to pick up your dresses from the dry cleaner as well since it was on his way to Ellie’s dance school. This plan left him almost the whole day to take care of whatever work just came up.

But it’s not at all how it happened.

You just got done at the supermarket, Leo strapped to your chest as you carried two bags full of groceries when you got a call from Ellie’s dance teacher.

“Y/N, hi! Sorry to bother, but are you coming to pick Ellie up today?” the teacher asks in the most polite way, but you can tell she’s worried too.

“Oh, my husband is supposed to pick her up, he’s not there yet?” you ask, checking the time and seeing her class has ended fifteen minutes ago.

“No, he hasn’t showed up yet.”

“Wow, okay, let me give him a call and I’ll get back to you, okay?” you sigh. 

“Sure!”

You put Leo into his seat and then dial Harry’s number while leaving the parking lot. The line just rings and rings through the speakers since you have your phone connected to them, and then he never answers. You try again, but no luck this time either. You can already feel your headache throbbing since now you have to take care of everything on your own. You give Ellie’s teacher a callback, asking if she can stay there until you pick the twins up and make your way to the dance school. She says it’s fine, Ellie can join in on the class that’s just about to start and wait for you until you arrive. You thank her cooperation and drive just a tad bit faster than the usual to do everything Harry was supposed to do as well.

Harry knows he fucked up the moment he realizes how late it is when he finally leaves his meeting, two missed calls from you fifteen minutes after he was supposed to pick Ellie up. Only two, no more. Some people fear it when they have millions of missed calls, but Harry knows you don’t do that. You reach out once, then give it another go and then you take matters in your own hands.

It’s six thirty, Ellie’s dance class was over at five and the dry cleaner closes at six. He did not complete any of the tasks he was supposed to and he can’t even make up for any of them now.

He speeds down the roads like a maniac as he heads home, cursing under his breath continuously, knowing how badly he fucked up. Your car is already parked in the garage when he arrives and walking into the house he finds the kids finishing up their dinner while you’re feeding Leo from a bottle.

You don’t even look at him when he walks in, but the kids greet him with excitement as always, since they didn’t catch much of the mess-up he caused. The twins were picked up in time and Ellie had a blast joining in on another dance class until you arrived. You made it to the dry cleaners just in time as well, but because of the little extra trip you had to make you only got home about thirty minutes ago, quickly heated up the dinner Anne left for you out on the stove and dinner was exactly on time, luckily. But that doesn’t change the fact that you had to do it all by yourself. 

“Daddy!” Maddy cheers and hopping off of her chair she runs up to hug him.

“Hi Princess, sorry I’m so late,” he breathes out, Picking the girl up into his arms and giving her a tight hug.

“Hi dad!” Ellie and Max greets him as well as they leave the table since they finished their dinner already.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m so sorry–” he starts, but you cut him off, still not looking at him.

“Guys, how about you go up to your rooms and pack your bags for tomorrow, hm?”

“Okay!” they sing in unison and you wait until their footsteps die down so that they are out of hearing range before finally looking at Harry.

He wants you to lash out on him, to tell him how badly he fucked up, to scream and shout, but you just give him a disappointed look and nothing else as you put Leo’s now empty bottle down and holding him on your chest you start burping him.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to disappear, I just couldn’t leave that fucking meeting and when I looked at the time it was so late, I’m so sorry!”

Rocking around the kitchen, gently smacking Leo’s back you still remain silent and Harry is starting to panic. He hates your silence, as much as he deserves it, he could scream when you don’t talk to him. 

“Please, baby, just say something!” he begs and you look at him again with that disappointed look that completely shatters his heart.

“You were not a dad today, Harry. You were Harry Styles, the singer, the star, but you were supposed to be my husband, my partner, the father to your kids. You made promises and you didn’t just not keep them, you left everything to me and didn’t even take the time to at least let me know.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, baby! I fucked up, so bad! I’m so so sorry!” Stepping closer he notices you don’t back away from him, but when he cups your face in his palm you don’t lean into his touch like you usually do and it’s like a slap across his face.

“I don’t need your apology. I need you to be there when we need you. We decided to start a family together and I told you in the beginning that I don’t want to feel like I’m a single mother. You promised to always put your family first and I accepted that sometimes you won’t be here. We have a support system, I’m not entirely alone, but when you don’t do the things you promise to, I can’t just make everyone stop what they are doing and help me. We are the parents of our kids, Harry. Before Anne, Gemma or my parents, or any nanny, we come first, we need to take care of them, but I can’t do it without you.”

Harry just stands there, completely destroyed, listening to your words, knowing you’re right. He knows he messed this one up badly and he needs to hear this from you.

“Four kids, Harry. We have four kids. Do you not realize how big of a responsibility is just one kid? And we have four, one of them is just a baby. A baby you begged me to have. And you know I love all of our children more than anything, but I did not sign up for this on my own. I need my partner, I need my husband, I can’t do this without you.”

Your eyes are now getting teared up, your lips trembling. You had to be on top of your game earlier with the kids, but now you’re realizing just how this situation made you feel. Before having Ellie it was one of your biggest fears that one day you’d be left alone with all the parent duties because of Harry’s career. Now, you know it won’t happen, but in times like this you can’t help but feel like he is shifting into the wrong direction. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Y/N. This was… I just got lost for a moment, but I know I’m a father and husband first, I want to be that first! Everything else… it doesn’t matter if I don’t have you and the kids. I would give it all up for our family, I love you guys more than anything and I promise it will never happen again!”

Now he is crying too, he pulls you into his arms, Leo still in your hold and this time you lean against him willingly, the tough act is already gone.

“I don’t want you to give it up. I would never ask you that, I just want you to be present when you’re with us, so I can rely on you.”

“I will. And I’m so sorry I disappointed you today. And thank you for being the most amazing woman I know. You always take care of our family, even when I’m being a wanker.”

You laugh through your tears as you adjust the babbling baby in your arms, who has no idea about the conversation that just went down in his presence. 

“You really was a wanker today. I wanted to punch you so badly when Ellie’s dance teacher called me,” you tell him, but the anger is now gone, you just want to load it all out on him.

“You know what? Do it. Hit me, I deserve it.”

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes laughing. Harry smirks at you, taking your face into his hands as he pulls you in for a sweet makeup kiss. 

“Ah, okay, so you want to channel your anger in the bedroom, I get it,” he smirks against your lips. “I’m fine with that, we can be rough tonight.”

“Harry Styles, you are such a pig, I can’t believe I married you.”

“I can’t believe it either,” he smiles, taking Leo from your arms. “You’re way too out of my league, why did you settle with me?” he jokes around.

“Because you have a big dick,” you answer with a straight face and Harry did not expect an answer like this, he starts coughing while laughing, adjusting the baby in his arms. 

“Alright, I’ll take that, thank you,” he chuckles and leaning closer he steals a kiss, right when Maddie starts crying somewhere upstairs, she probably got into an argument with Max again. “I got it, daddy is on duty tonight. Just go and relax, baby.”

“I’ll clean up in the kitchen,” you sigh, but he shakes his head no.

“Nope, I’m doing that too. Go and watch some Netflix or take a nice bath. You’re off tonight.”

“Alright,” you smile and steal another quick kiss before Harry disappears upstairs to settle the argument between the twins. 

The bath sounded nice, so that’s what you do while Harry covers the evening routine like a pro, putting everyone to bed while you have some time to pamper yourself and wash your hair without someone bursting into the bathroom and invading your privacy that’s been nonexistent for about seven years now. 

When the kids are down Harry takes a quick shower and joins you in bed, craving to be close to you after such a stressful day. He spoons you from behind, strong arms holding you tight in his hold as he kisses your shoulder.

“I love you and I’m sorry about today.”

“I love you too and you’re forgiven,” you chuckle softly.

“I want to make it up to you. I hope you don’t have plans for Saturday.”

“I don’t, but you do, you’re flying out on friday, aren’t you?” you ask as you turn around to face him.

“Canceled my trip, I’ll do the interview online. I’ve been away too much lately, I want to be here. So, date night on Saturday? Already asked my mum, she can babysit for us.”

“Date night it is then,” you smile before leaning in to kiss him. This is exactly the man you fell in love with, the one you decided to have a family with and the one you want to spend the rest of your life with. Your Harry, your love, your partner forever.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #dadrry #dad!harry #the another one universe

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I Wish You Love | Part Two

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Lewis Nixon x Housemaid!Female Reader

A flurry of correspondence is exchanged between yourself and Lieutenant Nixon, unleashing an unexpected torrent of emotions inside of you.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Angst, Class Divide, Infidelity, Dishonesty, Language, Smoking, Alcohol Consumption, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Reader's nationality is British and liberties have been taken in describing her background and family life for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. A good portion of this fic will be letter-based. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5051

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

You were mending one of Miss Isobel’s blouses in the servant’s hall when Lieutenant Nixon’s reply arrived with the afternoon post. Mr. Atkinson, the butler, set it on at silver tray at your elbow and you nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’ll take it up when I dress her for dinner, thank you Mr. Atkinson.”

It was all you could do not to stare at it, struggling to maintain your focus on the task at hand lest you stick your finger with the needle and have to remove a blood stain from the white silk. The excitement was foolish, you knew. There was no need to feel such a thrill at his response other than the confirmation it brought of his continued survival. Yes, that must be it, you were simply glad to know he was alive and well enough to write back.

Finishing the last of your weak and bitter tea, grown cold while you worked, you stood to tend to Miss Isobel. Carrying the tray up the stairs, you ducked into the linen cupboard to slide the letter into the pocket of your dress, stashing the tray inside a pile of sheets before heading into her room. The envelope fairly burnt a hole in your skirt through the family’s dinner, and then later the staff’s, before you had a moment to yourself to tear into it while secreted away in your bedroom.

The giddy grin on your face should have registered as an early warning sign but your duties dictated that you immediately store the letter in a safe place before returning to see Miss Isobel undressed for bed. As you carefully brushed out her hair, you mulled over Lieutenant Nixon’s request for tactile objects. With the departure for Scotland not scheduled for another few days, perhaps there was something meaningful you could send him from Lydiard.

“You’re a tad distracted this evening.” Miss Isobel’s sharp voice cut through your thoughts, and you tensed, offering her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry Miss, lots to prepare for the trip that’s all. Is there anything else?”

She let out a dramatic sigh and shook her head. “Since you can’t save me from this wretched trek, no. That’ll be all.”

Excusing yourself with a curtsy you stepped out, closing the door behind you quietly before making your way downstairs to bed. The answer did not come to you until the next morning when you were out walking Dash, his usual route abbreviated by the necessity to pack and prepare, but your eyes fell upon one of the last remaining trees in bloom. Reaching up, you snapped off a sprig carefully, tucking it into your pocket before chasing after the dog as he decided to try moonlighting as a sheep herder. A large tuft of white fleece snagged on the hedge caught your eye once you had corralled the unruly Cavalier and you smiled brightly as you plucked it free.

Pressing the sprig of blossoms between two sheets of scrap paper, you tucked it into the middle of the copy of War and Peace you had borrowed from the Viscount’s library some months ago. Your progress had naturally been slow, given your limited amount of free time, but you were enjoying the story all the same. You had intended to write your reply to Lieutenant Nixon that evening but Miss Isobel, for all her complaints about being forced to journey to the ‘empty wastes of Scotland’ was as particular as ever about what she wanted to pack.

It was the same story the day after that, leaving you just enough time to throw together a bag for yourself. You would have to write him from the train, apparently, or perhaps Scotland itself.

Animals and children always seemed to feed off the energy around them and so, as you were desperately trying to rush Dash through one last walk before departure the next afternoon, the keyed-up dog decided to take a running leap into the lake in pursuit of a duck he’d seen limping along shore.

“Dash! Dash, come!” You cried after him sharply, but he chose not to listen as the water soaked into the layers of his coat, his legs slowing as the bird handily outswam him into deeper waters. “Dash!” Your tone took on a desperation before, seeing no alternative, you kicked off your shoes and waded in after him.

The lake wasn’t terribly cold, but it was by no means clean – inhabited as it was by all forms of waterfowl. You were lucky enough to know how to swim, though your heavy servant’s dress was by no means suited to the task. As the small dog’s head bobbed and disappeared under the water you kicked faster, quickly scooping him up into your arms and bringing him back to shore. Shaking in terror he burrowed into your elbow, and you went to kiss his head before wincing at the stink radiating from both of you. “You really outdid yourself this time, didn’t you Dash.”

There had been just enough time to bathe the dog and change your clothes, the reek of lake water still on you as you boarded the train. It ended up working in your favour, however, with the rest of the staff giving you a pair of seats to yourself and at last a chance to reply to Lieutenant Nixon.

Sealing it with your collected articles into the envelope, you wrote the return address of the estate of the Earl of Selkirk, the families first destination, on the back and allowed yourself a proper rest for the remainder of the train ride. Upon disembarking, your eyes scanned the station for a post box, and you nipped through the crowd to slide your letter through the slot before returning to your duties.

Scotland was another experience entirely, one where you were permitted to act solely as Miss Isobel’s lady’s maid rather than taking on housemaid duties, affording you more opportunities to read, write to your father and brother, and explore the countryside.

Certainly, you had jested to Lieutenant Nixon that it was a land of ‘mist and misery’ but in truth the landscape was awe-inspiring and filled with a rugged beauty. You had only ventured outside of Wiltshire once in your life, to accompany the family to London during the last summer season of 1939, so travel was still very much a novelty to you.

Miss Isobel managed to occupy herself, despite her earlier pessimism, with Lord Douglas-Hamilton’s son James who was convalescing after a rather terrible crash during flight training with the RAF. It was near the third week of July by the time you – no, Izzy – received a response from Lieutenant Nixon and this time you easily slipped away to your single bedroom to eagerly tear it open and read it straight away. The thrill of receiving it rivalled, if not outmatched, that you felt when mail arrived from your brother.

You could not help the fond grin that pulled at your lips at Lieutenant Nixon’s concern for your…the family’s… safety. It seemed the 101st Airborne no longer had need of the field hospital they had built in Lydiard Park and the British army was in the midst of renovating it to become a German prisoner of war hospital camp. All manner of fencing topped with barbed wire and watch towers were being installed to ensure the security of those within and without. There were naturally some misgivings, but the land had been requisitioned and therefore it was quite out of the Viscount’s hands.

Several soldiers were slated to be posted inside Lydiard house from October onwards as an added level of security, one that you had chosen to take heart in. All that aside, it wasn’t as though they were going to be keep healthy prisoners on the grounds – only the ill and injured, so that would give you all a fighting chance if it came to it. Nonetheless, you were very touched all the same by his concern.

It was hard to ignore, however, the flirtatious tone of his letter, a sharp pang of jealously striking you at descriptions of things he and Miss Isobel had undoubtedly gotten up to. You had, after all, fixed her hair for dinner afterwards. While Lieutenant Nixon bemoaned the near miss you were nothing but grateful. It would have been disastrous for Miss Isobel and him to come face-to-face now, what with letters sent in her name she had no knowledge of. Of course, that would eventually come to pass, but you were banking on more time to come up with a resolution to it all before then.

Feeling thoroughly batted about by the myriad of emotions summoned by this latest missive, you were somewhat relieved to tuck it away as the clock downstairs chimed. You hurried out to join the game keeper, Mr. O’Connell, on the walk he had invited you to join him on whilst he planned a stalking trip for the family tomorrow. You had yet to secure a piece of heather, as you had promised to do for Lieutenant Nixon, and with a letter awaiting a reply, you ought to get on it as soon as possible.

The move between the two estates was far more of an ordeal than it needed to be, with a great deal of the difficulty arising from Miss Isobel’s sulking at parting from James Douglas-Hamilton. Confident there would be someone to catch her wandering eye at the next locale, you did your best to coddle and encourage her, once again struggling to comprehend that you were the same age as the girl.

As the days of murdering small birds and large deer ticked by with no response from Lieutenant Nixon, you began to grow anxious. Did you perhaps slip up in your latest response? Put too much of your own character into it? Or maybe it was the touch of melancholy that had seeped into the ink at the end as you were signing off. You really ought to write in the sunshine, it tended to lend a happier tone to your letters.

Your mood was altogether too dependent on his correspondence. Correspondence that he was not even aware that he was having with you. The housemaid who stood in as a lady’s maid, pending the day when Miss Isobel would finally choose just one man to love for the rest of her life. Signing the name of your mistress whilst your words betrayed ever deepening feelings for an American Lieutenant who most likely had forgotten your name by now. At what point had this service you had begun doing for him become something of such meaning to you?

To your combined relief and frustration, it turned out that the entire village was experiencing a problem with the post, something that the Royal Mail assured the Viscount Falkland they were working on immediately, but it took several more weeks for his response to arrive, in an envelope from the Ritz, just as the family was being ushered into vehicles to drive to the station in mid-September.

You quickly slid it away in your pocket, thanking the footman who’d handed it to you, before loading Dash’s carrier into the footwell and jumping into the back of a car yourself. The train was cramped and hot, most likely overbooked judging by the crush of humanity at the end of the cars, and so you were forced to sit next to a stranger with Dash’s carrier perched on your knees.

You tore into the envelope savagely as though your actions might make up for the lost time while the post had been mishandled.

A future. A future that could never be yours. But one that sounded so sweet. Tears blurred your vision until you blinked them away, sighing softly as the train slowed and pulled onto a siding yet again. It felt like you had barely made any progress since leaving the station despite re-reading Lieutenant Nixon’s letter three times.

Your seatmate was slumped against the window, sleeping deeply, thankfully unaware of the tears that were rolling down your cheeks, fresh ones quickly replacing those which you furiously wiped away. This was not your story. Could never be your story, particularly not when it was all based upon a lie. How had he become so sweet and dear to you? Lieutenant Nixon was impossibly charming and witty, perhaps you really never stood a chance at remaining unattached. You should have never read his second letter.

The train cars jostled to a halt with a series of bangs, Dash shuffling restlessly in his carrier on your lap in response to being woken. “Sorry, boy.” You whispered quietly, sniffling a little as you tried to rein in your emotions.

However badly you had failed to keep your personal feelings separate on the matter, the man still certainly deserved a reply. With space so limited, you began by preparing the envelope, sliding your collected feathers inside, before taking a stab at the letter itself.

You pulled back your pen with a ruthless shake of your head, eyes once again growing damp. This letter was unusable. You had simply devolved into pouring your heart out onto the page. Gone were all traces of The Honourable Isobel St John. All that remained was a working-class girl from Swindon punching high above her weight. There was no way you could actually send it, but you had gotten off to a good start, so you could hopefully salvage portions of it. A savage yawn suddenly overtook you and you sighed, tucking the pages into the prepared envelope and setting it on top of Dash’s carrier.

Perhaps you would be better prepared to finish this Herculean task after a rest. As if to lend a helping hand, the train jerked back into motion, the forward progress along the track rocking you comfortingly in your seat as your eyelids began to droop heavily.

They did not open again until Miss Beauchamp squeezed your shoulder gently. “Wake up, we’ve arrived.” She hissed and you startled up in your seat, eyes searching frantically for the letter which you had carelessly left out in the open. “What the devil are you looking for?” She muttered impatiently, grabbing Dash’s carrier from your lap.

“There was a letter, I had a letter on top of the carrier…” You stuttered, still not quite awake but system also flooded with adrenaline.

“Oh yes, Miss Isobel’s letter. Mr. Stevens took it to post along with some letters the Viscount was working on, it’s all taken care of. Now come on before the train leaves.”

You stared at her, eyes wide with horror, rooted to the spot, until she physically grabbed you by the elbow. She hauled you through the car and off the train in time to see the ever-helpful valet sliding a stack of letters through the slot of the post box. Your blood pressure plummeted, knees beginning to buckle beneath you as black dots appeared in your vision. You were vaguely aware of Miss Beauchamp shouting your name in alarm as you staggered toward a nearby bench, barely maintaining your grip on consciousness through sheer force of will.

The rest of the staff jumped to all sorts of conclusions – you were overheated, overtired, overwrought. Perhaps you were coming down with something or had bad news regarding your brother. You were barely able to voice the words to assure them you were fine, and you could feel Miss Isobel’s scornful glare as all attention was directed on ushering you into one of the waiting cars to return you to Lydiard and up to your bed to rest.

The words in that letter had not been meant for consumption by anyone and now they were in the dutiful hands of the Royal Mail, making their way to Lieutenant Nixon. If only they could suddenly develop another postal delivery issue, but you had never been such a lucky person. Shock ran deep, immobilizing you in your bed, rendering you unable to eat, to cry, to see any solution to this mess you had made.

You should have never read his second letter.

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

Read Part Three

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @gretagerwigsmuse

#lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon imagines #lewis nixon imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fic #band of brothers

[cameronspecial]

Thorn In My Side, Rose In My Hand (Part 8)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Talks about sex and swearing.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: First days of school can be unnerving when you are a part of a new couple.

Masterlist

Lazy mornings with Rafe have become Y/N’s favourite. It’s been two weeks since their first date and they are now officially calling themselves girlfriend and boyfriend. School starts today, but since it starts in the afternoon because of orientation for the freshman in the morning, the two could spend the morning tangled in bed together. “Good morning, my rose,” he whispers to her with his lips pressed to her forehead. She scrunches her nose as his morning breath hits her nose, “Eww, Cameron. Morning breath.” He grins at the girl mischievously and starts an attack of kisses all over her face. This causes Y/N to erupt in a fit of giggles. “Ugh, stop it.” She laughs whilst burying her head back into his neck. “I don’t want to go back to school.” Rafe laughs at her complaints, “Wow, I never thought I’d see the day Miss. Valedictorian says she doesn’t like school.” “I’ve never liked school. I just like beating people,” she argues and nuzzles herself further into him. “Come on. It’s 10 now. If we don’t get up, we won’t get up at all. I’ll pay for brunch before we head to school,” he tries to bribe, rolling off of the bed to get ready for school. “I want brunch too, dude,” Mason calls out while he walks past his sister’s open door from the laundry room. Y/N and Rafe chuckle at the boy and finally get out of bed to get ready. 

—— 

The three of them pile into Rafe’s truck to head to the country club for breakfast. Y/N and Rafe sit on the same side of the booth at the restaurant, while Mason is on the other side. This is a shift from how the group used to configure itself before the couple became a thing. Rafe eats his waffles and just watches as Y/N gently nudges her utensils under his arm to cut herself a piece. He doesn’t mind; the whole reason why he ordered it is because she couldn’t figure out if she wanted eggs benedict or waffles. But she doesn’t need to know that he wasn’t planning on ordering it. 

“God, how you guys went from 0 to 100 couple-wise is always going to amaze me. It’s going to be weird seeing this at school,” Mason comments, pointing the fork between the two. Y/N frowns at the words, “Oh, I didn’t think about that. It is going to be a little weird.” Rafe wraps his arms around the girl for reassurance. “It’s okay. If anyone bothers you, I’ll be sure to punch them,” he promises to her. 

“Cameron! Violence will only get you expelled.”

“Okay, I promise to just give them a very stern talking to, my rose.” 

“Yeah, and I’ll punch them after school so I can’t be expelled,” Mason interjects, feeling his protective side come out at the upset look on his sister’s face. Y/N smiles at the two boys and cuddles herself into Rafe’s arms. “What class do you have first?” Y/N questions. Rafe takes out his phone to check, “I have business, then English.” “Dude, I got last period English too. So does Y/N/N. Is it with Mrs. Santos?” Mason informs. “Uhh… Yeah, it’s with Ms. Santos,” Rafe confirms. Y/N beams at this news, “I’m so excited. I heard that she teaches novels only written by women. And that they aren’t only classics, but modern YA books. One of the books we read is Written in Starlight by Isabel Ibañez, which I’m excited about because I read another one of her books and I loved it.” “Well, maybe it can be the book we read for book club. Then you can kill two birds with one stone,” Rafe suggests. “That’s such a good idea, but I don’t have anyone but you in my book club so far, Cameron,” Y/N pouts a little. Mason notices the time, “I’m sure you’ll find more people to join, Y/N/N. But right now, we need to head out or else we are going to be late.”

——

Although Y/N and Rafe are not trying to keep their relationship a secret, only their best friends really know they are dating. They haven’t had any super public dates or a reason to post on social media about their status. Rafe often opted out of going to parties choosing, instead, to stay home with Y/N. So, today is the first time that the students are seeing them as a couple. Y/N had been cold on the car ride over here, so she snuck on Rafe’s school sweater that she stole from him on their first date. Rafe’s last name on her back is obscured by his arm being drapped over her shoulder. Wanting to show off to her, he insisted on carrying both of their backpacks to impress her. 

Kelce approaches the pair with a surprised look on his face, “So this is what you’ve been up to while I’ve been away. Finally got the girl I see.” “Haha, you know it, man. I’ve never been happier. Got the best girl in the OBX as my rose,” Rafe brags, giving Y/N a big smackeroo on her burning cheeks. “Hello, Kelce. Nice to see you too,” Y/N teases at the boy skipping over greetings. Kelce lightly taps her shoulder in a joking manner, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cameron. Hello to you too. How was your summer?”

“It was good, then there was a little bump in the road. But it ended off on an extremely high note. So I’d say everything worked out as it was supposed to. How about you?”

“It was tight as fuck, man. The cruise was awesome. And I may have been on the water, but I definitely didn’t go through a dry spell if you know what I mean.”

“Eww, too much. Kelce. It’s good you had fun on the cruise though.”

Before the conversation can continue, the bell rings signaling that everyone has five minutes to get to class and seeing as they haven’t even gotten to their lockers yet, the couple has to get going. They say their goodbyes and the three separate from each other to get to their classes. Y/N sits in her first class of the day, drama, alone. She isn’t friends with any of her classmates in this class so the hour and fifteen minutes pass by slowly. The bell finally rings and she makes a mad dash for English class; partly because she actually interacts with people in the class but mostly because she is excited to finally be under the tutelage of Ms. Santos. She has heard great things about the teacher and she gives amazing letters of recommendation. She taught a modern literature course at Oxford and seeing as that’s Y/N’s top choice, it would look amazing to the admissions office. 

She got to class early, not wanting to be slowed down by the people lazily walking to class. She is the first to arrive so she sits in the front row in the middle seat. Rafe makes his way early into the class as well and sees where Y/N has chosen to sit. He isn’t exactly a front-row kind of student, but he wants to sit beside her. She watches him approach her and prepares to uncomfortably sit beside her, “You don’t have to sit beside me, Cameron. Just because we are dating, doesn’t mean we have to be attached by the hip. We can be separated for three hours.” Rafe pouts at her remark, knowing that she is correct. “Okay,” he mumbles in a childlike manner, giving her a peck on the lips before making his way to the back of the class where he normally sits. 

Next to come in is Riley, who chooses to sit right beside Y/N. The grin on Riley’s face as he turns towards Y/N to start a conversation fills Rafe with insecurities. While Y/N is a straight-A student, Rafe had a solid B report card with a few Cs and tutoring sessions sprinkled here and there. This is normally a shock to most people, who expect him to be the stereotypical jock who doesn’t care about his schoolwork. However, Rafe really does try in school. At first, it started out as wanting to make his dad proud, but eventually, he started doing it to make himself proud of what he could achieve by himself. Even though Rafe gets better grades than his other swim mates, without having to cheat, he couldn’t compare to straight-A mathlete Riley, who is third in line for valedictorian in their class. Rafe couldn’t compare to Riley academically wise and this makes him nervous. He couldn’t keep up with Y/N in that way and when he realizes the conversation between Y/N and Riley switched to French, he becomes incredibly jealous. She laughs at the joke Riley makes in French and Rafe wishes he could connect with her on an academic level. 

Rafe wants to stop the conversation between the two, but Mason and Ms. Santos coming in stops Rafe from walking to the front. Mason goes to sit beside Rafe, while Ms. Santos goes to her desk at the front of the class and begins her lesson. 

——

The lesson ends and Rafe leaves Mason behind to push his way to Y/N. His height and reputation help him achieve his goal. Riley is still following her and this peeves Rafe off just a little. Y/N turns towards him with a smile on her face, “Hey, Cam-” She can’t continue because he instantly pulls her in for a mini make-out session in the middle of the hallway. 

The bustle of the hallway pauses to see the new reveal of Y/N and Rafe dating. A mixture of disappointed groans and encouraging hollers fill the hallway which makes the two pull away. “Let’s go to the bookstore. We can get the books for class and you can recommend me a book for the comparative essay we need to do as a final,” Rafe proposes, taking hold of her hand and tugging her towards their lockers to get their stuff to go. Y/N gleams at the idea, “Only if we can read in the hammock when we get back to my place.” Rafe chuckles at her excitement and ignores the stare as people step aside to create a path for them to walk. 

——

Rafe is driving back to Y/N’s house from the bookstore when he hears a screech come from the passenger seat. “STOP THE CAR.” This causes him to panic and slam on the breaks. His hand comes out protectively in front of Y/N so her head wouldn’t hit the dashboard. “Y/N, you can’t scream like that when I’m driving,” he chides, looking over to check if she is okay. She doesn’t reply as she flings the door open and runs towards a small blob on the side of the road. Rafe quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and follows her out of the car. He approaches her and sees what’s in her arms. She turns toward him with a puppy nuzzled close to her chest. From where he is standing, it looks like a gray and black border collie with spots on the gray and electric blue eyes. Rafe knew what she was about to ask for, “No, my rose. I literally just got my car detailed.” “But the poor baby is all alone. What if he gets hurt?” She uses a baby tone and waves the little guy’s paw. “Would your parents even let you keep him?” he questions. 

“If I ask nicely, they will. Especially if he is an orphan all alone on the side of the road. What if he got hit by a car? Could you, in good conscience, drive away knowing that possibility?”

He knew he lost the argument when both the puppy and Y/N give him puppy dog eyes, “Okay, fine. We can put him in my car, but I want you to take him to the vet first to get him checked out and to check for a chip. Wouldn’t want the little guy to give you fleas or something.”

Y/N lets out an excited squeal as she runs over to him to give him a hug, then jumps into the car, cuddling her new friend. Rafe follows her back into the car and changes directions toward the vet clinic. “I’m going to name him Sparky.”

“Yeah, why?” 

“Because his eyes are so blue, it’s almost electric and electricity can make a spark. Plus, he looks like he has a real spark of life in him. He looks energetic.” 

“I can see that, it makes sense.”

——

After a vet visit and a trip to the pet store, Rafe and Y/N return to her house with their spoils of war. Mason comes downstairs to check on them, “Damn, good thing I got a ride from Topper. You guys took forever at the bookstore. Wait, where did that dog come from?” Y/N smiles and puts Sparky down on the ground after closing the front door. “This is Sparky and he is your nephew. Isn’t he cute?” Sparky excitedly runs over to Mason to examine his new environment. “That still doesn’t explain where you got him from. Please tell me you didn’t steal another dog.” Rafe interrupts this time, “That was one time and she was six. But she found Sparky on the side of the road. The vet says he has no chip and is healthy, so your sister wanted to take him home.” 

Mason lets out a small sigh of relief and finally lets himself crouch down to pet the attention-seeking puppy. He doesn’t have to worry about returning Sparky to an angry owner. Sparky immediately rolls over and begs the boy for a belly rub. “I guess he is cute, but I’m not picking up his poop,” Mason confesses while obeying the pup’s wishes. At this time, Marvin and Cassie arrive home to find the newest Y/L/N family member. “Uh-oh, did Y/N/N steal another dog again?” Marvin jokes, approaching the dog with his wife. Y/N feigns offence, “Dad! That was one time!” “And it was adorable. But if he isn’t stolen, where did you get him from?” the twins’ mother asks, giving the dog the attention he wants. Y/N explains the story all over again to her parents, who are more than happy to let the dog stay seeing as they’ve always wanted a dog but never felt a connection with any other dog. Sparky’s excitement causes him to appear to be the perfect match for the family. 

——

The first full day of school is today and Y/N couldn’t wait for this school year to be over. With a full day of classes and her first student council meeting of this year, her day is going to be very busy. Her first period of the day is ancient history, which she, thankfully, has with Lacey, who is surprisingly a fiend for mythology. “I’m so excited for this class. It would be so interesting to learn more about Mayan and Aztec culture. I heard they had an influence on modern Mexican food. I think next summer I should see if I could do a cooking internship down in Mexico. And you should come too. Y/N/N, you would love the beaches there,” Lacey confesses, sitting in front with Y/N. Y/N smiles at the idea, “Ohh, a graduation girl’s trip would be so fun. Although, I’m worried about how Ms. Baker marks. I hear she is extremely strict with how she grades. If she doesn’t like your writing, she will mark the answer wrong.”

“You love a challenge, though. Don’t worry too much about it. We can work together to beat the system.”

“Definitely. We always think better when we put our heads together.” 

“So, did you want to watch a movie tonight?”

“Hmm, maybe. I have studying to catch up on.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N/N. This is the first full day of school. How can you already have stuff to catch up on?”

“Well, I just want to get ahead so that I know I understand everything and don’t have to worry if I fall behind. But I guess we can do a movie night. As long as we watch Knives Out. I’m in the mood for a mystery. You can even sleep over.” 

The plans for tonight are set in stone and the conversation ends when Ms. Baker enters the classroom and begins her lesson.

——

Once ancient history is over, Y/N went to her next class by herself. The bell rings signalling the end of math class. The teen packs her things up and heads towards the cafe, which is just the cafeteria but the school wants to make it sound fancier. She makes a stop to the bathroom before going to her final destination. She is finishing up in the stall when she hears the bathroom door open and the middle of a conversation enters the room as well. “I can’t believe Rafe is actually dating that boring book nerd. I don’t see how she could satisfy his more sexual desires,” a shrill and high-pitched voice, Y/N recognizes as Molly Hudson, notes.  She hears shuffling toward the sink before a lower-pitched voice responds, “I know right? From what you told me about Rafe in bed, I don’t know if that slow innocent little prude could keep up with him.” That voice belongs to Hannah Barns, Molly’s best friend and minion. Y/N has heard enough and she is not just going to pretend like she is not there. 

Y/N bursts out of the bathroom stall; her annoyance evident on her face. “I really don’t think that mine and Rafe’s personal business matter to you guys. Just because our relationship is public; does not mean you have any right to any sort of ownership over us. I know that Rafe hurt you by not talking to you after you guys slept together, but it is no excuse to say things about me behind my back. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go enjoy my lunch.” Y/N walks out of the bathroom without so much as a pause to see what else they had to say. Most people would’ve felt insecure knowing that Molly has slept with her boyfriend; however, Y/N feels very secure in her relationship with Rafe. She knows that he has a long string of girls who have had their hearts broken by him because they expected a relationship and he didn’t. But she knows what he feels for her is actually genuine emotion; she could see it in how he looks at her and treats her ever since they started dating. 

Her scowl has not left her face as she sits down in between Rafe and Mason at the lunch table with Lacey, Topper, and Kelce sitting across from the trio. “Who spoiled your book?” Topper puns, noticing the look on Y/N’s face. Y/N reaches for the lunch tray that Mason procured for her with thanks, “Ugh, just Molly and Hannah being little gossiping hens.” “Seriously? Do you want me to deal with them?” Rafe straightens his back and wraps his arm protectively around her. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I put them in their place. I’m going to have to get used to it anyways. It comes with the territory of dating the Kook Prince of the Outer Banks,” she replies, resting her head on his should with a sigh. 

Taglist: @itsalexwin @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gillybear17 @terraeluce @f4ll-for-you

#thorn in my side rose in my hand #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron x you #outer banks rafe #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #outer banks fanfiction

[storiesofsvu]

Solace in Solitude Ch 5

Emily Prentiss x reader enemies to lovers warnings: language, medical talk (some of which is not accurate, don't at me), minor hurt/anxiety, y'all know the drill already. My deepest apologies for how long this update took. Life really took over, ya know? I hope it won't be that long before the next one! Don't wanna miss an update? Sign up for the taglist here! Like what you read? Interact, Tip your writer!🩵

Emily wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or excitement coursing through her veins but she was practically buzzing from the moment the first nurse of the day left her room. The reason for the buzzing of course, was that all that stood between her and getting discharged was your signature. One little scribble on the bottom of a piece of paper and she would be out of this godforsaken hospital room for good, back out in the real world with fresh air, proper food and she could only pray, an actual coffee. She felt a bit like a child on the very last day of school, where you were stuck watching the clock tick each second by while you stared out the window watching the sunny day go by, aching to be running through the field rather than trapped in class, even if all you were doing was watching a movie. She was ready to rip out her IV and wander through the streets of Paris and at least attempt to enjoy this forced vacation.

The issue being that you normally swung by earlier in the day, checking on her and making sure everything was good before you started your rounds on other patients, took in other traumas and dove into surgeries. Emily reluctantly sat through a morning of near silence, no one coming or going from her room while she played scrabble on her tablet before lunch was served. She made sure to eat every ounce of it, on the off chance this was some kind of test, before she spent the afternoon switching between napping and catching up on the most recent season of The Bachelor that seemed to have her enamoured. She swore the sun was almost setting in the skyline by the time you finally rounded the corner into her room, this time you were in cozy clothes instead of scrubs, a small smile on your face.

“Sorry. Things got a little crazy today, how are you?” You asked, sweeping through the room to glance through her chart.

“Aching to get out of here.” She replied with a soft sigh and you chuckled.

“Well… everything looks good.” You flicked the chart closed, moving to the table, “I’ll sign off on these, file them, take your IV out and we can finally be on our way.”

“Are you serious?” Her face lit up and you were pretty sure it was the first time you’d actually seen her smile, “like, you’re not fucking with me?”

“Why would I fuck with you?” You barked a laugh, “I know this is what you’ve been waiting for, I wouldn’t dare tease.”

“No last minute tests or scans?”

“Nope.” You smiled, “everything yesterday checked out perfectly. You’re doing good in PT, incisions all healed, ribs back to normal and in the places they should be. You,” you picked up one of the newer clipboards from the base of the bed, scrawling your name across a handful of dotted lines, “are free to go.” You pulled off the pages of discharge papers that were her copies, handing them to her, “there’s some after care instructions and a few other things in there you’ll need to read over.” Moving through the room you gloved up, swiftly taking out her IV, un-attaching her from the rest of the machines, “alright. I’m gonna go file these and punch out, give you time to make sure you’ve got everything.”

“Thanks.” Emily flashed you a bright smile as you collected all the paperwork you needed and disappeared from the room.

She let out a huge breath of relief, shifting from the bed as her eyes carefully glanced around the room to make sure she hadn’t missed packing anything up, not that she had much to begin with but she still wanted to double check. She had just tucked her phone charger into her bag when you popped back through the doorway, your bag tossed over your shoulder this time.

“Ready?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” She replied, cautiously picking up the small duffle, only wincing slightly when she got it over her shoulder.

“It’s not far.” You commented, digging through your bag until you found the spare metro card, passing it off to her, “that’s for the rest of the month.” You seamlessly switched to French as you exited the hospital doors in an attempt to blend in “have you been to Paris before?”

“Yeah.” She replied, pausing for a moment as you nodded toward your right in the direction of the metro, “lived here for a bit growing up.”

“Well, at least you won’t be utterly lost then.”

Conversation fell quieter as you ducked into the station, not only could Emily tell that you’d had a long day she was catching the vibe that you’d had a long week and were very much looking forward to getting home after you’d finished chaperoning her. On top of that, this was her first time out in civilization in months, she was a little on edge, a little rusty in her profiler ways as she discreetly listened to conversations around the two of you, eyes carefully darting around making sure your surroundings were safe and Ian wasn’t magically on the same train platform. You seemed to sense this, discreetly giving her wrist a gentle pinch when your train showed up so it wouldn’t look like you were fully giving her directions, guiding her to a seat at the back of the car where her back could be to the wall and she could keep an eye on things. You still weren’t sure on specifics but you knew she’d been a little freaked out about leaving the safety of the hospital, that this could be overwhelming for anyone getting discharged after that length of time much less someone who was living a fake life currently in order to survive.

A few stops later, you gently nudged at her good side and she followed you out of the car, taking note of what station it was and which exit you took that was closest to your destination. You nodded toward a little market, asking if she wanted to grab a couple of things on her way home and she agreed, silently slipping through the aisles until she’d found enough to last through a couple of days and met back with you at the counter. She felt awkward when you passed off cash to the shop owner, realizing she didn’t have any and you muttered an apology to her as you left the shop, saying you’d left her bank and credit cards in the apartment with her passports and stuff, not wanting to lose them. You took the bag from her so she wasn’t carrying too heavy of a load as you walked up another block and a half and you directed her to an apartment building, using the fob to get through the front door and into the elevator where you scanned it again to make it move.

“Extra security is nice.” Emily mumbled, letting out a breath as she relaxed into the back wall, “and I appreciate the escort, but you really didn’t need to come up with me.”

“I didn’t want you to struggle with two bags.” You retorted and she let out a little laugh, interrupting when you tried to continue your stream of thought.

“Am I not trusted with the key?”

“No, you’ve got your own.” You dug through your bag again, pulling the second chain from it to pass over to her.

“My… own?” She stalled slightly as the elevator doors slid open, glancing between the key in your hand and the one in hers. She watched as you stepped a few feet down the hallway and slid your key into the lock, “do you have a key to my apartment?”

“Seriously?” You raised a brow to her, pushing the door open before silencing the alarm as she scurried out of the elevator and to your side, “they spent seventeen thousand on your funeral, another six hundred and forty two thousand on your medical bills and that doesn’t even cover your ongoing PT. You’re lucky they gave us a two bedroom.”

“What.” Her voice hardened slightly as she stepped into the doorway of the apartment, her lips forming into a tight frown.

“Between their allocated budget and your level of ongoing care it was the best option.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She stepped into the space, letting the door swing shut behind her and after a brief second thought, she turned to quickly make sure it was locked. The apartment wasn’t small, but it wasn’t giant either, a small entry space filled with a rug, coat and shoe racks and a small table that you tossed your keys and work bag down onto as you kicked off your shoes. A foot or so down on the left was a small kitchen, enough space for most standard appliances and counterspace that curved into a breakfast bar opening up into the living room. The space was tidy, clean, dishes sitting in the drying rack that she could only assume were from that morning, a few blankets tossed over the back of the couch and one of the larger chairs, a few books, some of which looked like medical text books on the coffee table along with a vase of flowers. Off to the right were three doors, each open and it was safe to assume two were bedrooms and the one in between was a bathroom.

“Laundry’s in the basement.” You commented, pulling her out of her trance as you crossed to the kitchen to put the food away in the appropriate places, “the card for it’s with your bank and ID’s on the bedside table.” You gestured towards the room closer to the door and she was safe to assume that meant it was hers, “some extra clothes and things in the closet. Make yourself at home.”

“Yeah.” Her tone was terse, letting out a huff as she kicked her shoes off and disappeared into her room to dump her bag on the bed, looking around the space.

“I’m gonna run down to the gym, you have my number if you want me to pick anything up on the way back.” You called to her as you wandered into your room, pulling your hair up into a ponytail as you grabbed a couple of things.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Her reply was barely audible through the apartment though the slamming of her bedroom door certainly was. It caught you off guard, jumping slightly at the sound before you glanced in the direction of her room through the wall. You hadn’t really thought sharing a space would piss her off like that, hell, after the way she’d been acting through the week you were back at the point that you thought the two of you might actually end up being friends. Rolling your eyes you let out a small sigh, scooping up your keys and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge before you stepped through the door, making sure it was locked behind you.

In her room Emily dropped down on the edge of the bed, her head burying in her hands as she let out a heavy breath. She’d been in such high sprits all day that she was finally going to be free, that she was going to be able to live her life again, be herself again. She’d nearly forgotten why she was in Paris in the first place, that just because step two was done and she was out of the hospital did not mean that things were going back to normal. She still wasn’t able to go home, wasn’t able to call any of her old friends and still had to be alert whenever she was out. Because she wasn’t herself, she was Valerie. And Valerie deserved a fighting change at surviving this mess, even if Emily didn’t.

*

You came back a couple of hours later to a dark and quiet apartment. Considering Emily’s reaction to the shared space you figured you’d give her a little bit longer to adjust to the new environment, giving her a chance to explore the space without you in it while you were out. Instead it looked like she had stayed shut away in her room, not a single thing out of place when you returned.

Flicking on a few lights you changed into pyjamas first, tossing your gym clothes into the laundry hamper, you’d opted to shower at the gym already so at least that was checked off your nightly list. Wandering back to the kitchen you pulled a few things from the fridge to whip together an easy chipotle chicken pasta, pouring yourself a hefty glass of wine to go along with it. Crossing through the apartment you set your dinner up on the balcony, wanting to enjoy the spring evening and fresh air outside of the hospital while you ate. On your trip back into the apartment you picked up one of the novels on the coffee table to indulge yourself with, before you glanced up to the closed bedroom door and let out a small sigh. You took a brief break to quickly plate up the second portion of pasta, topping it with fresh parmesan, wrapping it tightly in tinfoil before tossing the pot into the sink to be cleaned later. On your way back to the balcony you gently knocked on the closed door,

“There’s a plate of food on the counter, I know you didn’t eat dinner.” Was all you said before you slipped back to the balcony, sliding the glass door shut behind you. You figured if she had some privacy and her own space she was more likely to come out to at least get the food if not eat it.

You weren’t sure how long you were outside, but the sun was fully set, a chill in the air pulling shivers from you as you finished another chapter. Figuring that was the signal to head back inside you picked up your things, book going back to the coffee table while the dishes came with you into the kitchen. The extra plate of food still sitting exactly where you’d left it. You sighed softly, sliding it to the side so you could do your dishes, putting away the ones from that morning in the cupboard.  You glanced toward her room, huffing softly before you picked up the plate and stashed it in the fridge, if she wasn’t going to touch it you at least wanted it edible tomorrow so you could eat leftovers.

Emily had fallen asleep not long after you’d knocked on her door, truthfully, she was pretty exhausted. If the sheer annoyance and frustration hadn’t kept her riled up when you were at the gym she knew she would’ve fallen asleep then. She was still recovering after all and even a short journey through the city was more than enough to wipe her out. She’d drifted in and out through the silence and the sound of you doing dishes, listening as you putzed around the apartment a bit before your bedroom door finally clicked shut. She could feel the pit in her stomach beginning to ache and knew she would need to eat something before attempting to get some sleep but she didn’t dare leave her room until long after she’d heard you flick your bedroom light off and get into bed.

Only once the apartment was in complete silence did she finally, silently, slip from under the covers of her bed, pulling JJ’s sweater tighter around her as she snuck around the apartment. With you off in dreamland she finally let herself look around the space properly, it was decorated nicely, although she was sure some of that wasn’t you. This was likely some federal apartment, and Interpol one, maybe even a Doctors without Borders one, that was even more likely knowing her trail had to be covered. But there were still touches she knew had to be you, more personal items that you would’ve picked up over the last couple of months, the blanket over the back of the couch looked particular inviting, fuzzy but not in the overstimulating itchy way, dotted with constellations and she was sure that was yours. She liked the flowers on the table, the idea that you liked to fill your space with something alive, colourful and considering the shape of them you changed them out every couple of weeks, she’d noticed an array of flowers at the market you’d stopped at earlier. Above the tv there were some photo frames scattered on the wall, a few of you with a girl a few years younger who looked an awful lot like you, considering they all looked like travel pictures she figured that was your sister. Another frame looked like a family photo, an older brother from what she could tell from resemblance, who had a couple of kids, your sister and your parents. The third was from a graduation, judging by your age she figured when you finished medical school, the same friends copying over into a couple of other photos, one where it looked like you were a bridesmaid. Little pieces of home you’d brought with you in an attempt to ground yourself and not forget who you were, things that she didn’t have on this particular journey.

Her stomach growled and she let out a sigh, thankful it had distracted her before she could spiral down the hole of not having any pieces of her old life here. She quietly wandered back to the kitchen, not even daring to flick the light on, using the fridge and stove lamp as her resources as she found the plate of food wrapped in the fridge. Her hand rested on the counter as she pulled it out, hitting a patch of condensation where it must have been sitting warm, waiting for her earlier and her head tilted in realization. Directly beside the spot was a three quarter full bottle of wine, an empty, clean wine glass, as if you’d left that out for her along with the food originally. Her eyes darted to the drying rack, a water spotted glass sat there, you’d clearly already had yours. Popping the plate into the microwave she thought for a moment, the only meds she was still on were the sleeping ones and anxiety ones, both you’d mentioned no heavy drinking on, but she was sure one glass wouldn’t hurt. Hell, it would probably knock her the fuck out with the meds and that truly was what she needed if she was gonna get any sleep in a new environment.

She managed to catch the microwave before it beeped, glancing up toward your room and listening for a moment before she pulled open a drawer in search of cutlery. Unbeknownst to her, she actually copied your routine, taking the food and wine out to the balcony to enjoy. She couldn’t help but want to feel the breeze on her face, breathe the fresh air, the coolness of it helping calm her racing heart, help ease her anxiety while she ate. She felt bad leaving the glass and plate in the sink but by the time she was finished her wine her eyelids were drooping so heavily she knew she wasn’t going to make it much longer, enough energy to make sure all the doors and windows were locked before collapsing into her bed.

Emily tugged the blankets tighter around her, letting out a little shiver as she curled around herself. She inhaled heavily, frowning when the scent of detergent was overpowering, only a flicker of JJ’s perfume remained on the sweater. It had stood out so strongly against the chemical smells in the hospital it had been her go to calming mechanism, a memory of home lulling her to sleep. Now so much time had passed it was nearly gone and she knew she would need to wash the thing soon, then it would be gone forever. Her body sunk heavily into the bed, at least this one was more comfortable than her last, letting out a breath a tear rolled over her cheek as she nestled deeper into the pillows. It was only a moment later she was asleep, hoping that her dreams would distract her, that maybe she’d wake up in a different situation, that maybe all of this had been a nightmare of its own.

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem @strongsassysexysloane @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @tommyriddleobsessed @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @honeyycat @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @originalbrunettecharacter @elz-artzzz

#emily prentiss #criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #enemies to lovers #solace in solitude #emily prentiss fanfic

[ambear9]

fic stats meme

tagged by no one

rules: give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words.

the most hits

Can I Borrow and Egg? (44,175 words) E

“Can I help you?” Derek really didn’t want to open the door, but the smell of the person on the other side was intriguing and he needed to know who it belonged to. “Um sorry to bother you, but um do have an egg I can borrow” The guy was wearing fuzzy batman pajama pants and a red zip-up sweater zipped only halfway with no shirt underneath like he just threw it on to walk over here. “Borrow?” Derek raised an eyebrow “Do you plan to return it?” he was trying really hard not to look at the small patch of chest hair that he desperately wanted to touch. “Well no, I plan on buying more eggs when I get my Jeep working again then I’ll return an egg to you, not the exact one” “Derek give the poor kid an egg” Laura yelled from inside the house “I’m an adult” The guy called back “Not a kid”

second most kudos

Passing Notes (7,577 words) E

“And Stiles, as for the paper due next week, I don’t need to know about circumcision” “Got it” Stiles was going to have to drop that class now, even though, yes he did take it because he was bored and needed another credit and Professor Hale was one of the best-looking people he has ever seen, especially when he was wearing his black-rimmed glasses, and the way his long sleeves shirts were cuffed right below his elbow, “Enough of that” Stiles mumbled to himself after running into a plastic trash bin and almost falling over.

third most comments

"I didn’t know it was possible to fall in love with someone without even seeing their face" (33,755 words) E

Stiles didn’t like answering unknown numbers but he was bored and hoping to mess with a scammer. Turns out it was a wrong number, but he felt bad for the guy so we helped him with his computer. He thought that was the end of it, but it turned into one of the best years of his life.

fourth most bookmarks

Coffee & Camo (17,219 words) E

Stiles owns a coffee shop and has a crush on his regular customer. but then the customer stops coming in and Stiles has no idea what happened until he gets a letter in the mail from Sergeant Derek Hale.

fifth most words

Trying to See Through the Rain Coming Down (32,376 words) E

“I need to file a missing person report” “Okay” Stiles didn’t look up from his book, just grabbed one of the papers off the shelf behind him and handed to the man “Fill this out and I’ll get an officer to come out and talk to you” “You’re not even going to look up? My sister is missing and you’re just going to keep reading your stupid book” he yanked the book out of Stiles’ hand and threw it across the precinct almost hitting the Sheriff who had come out of his office to see what the yelling was about. “Sorry” Stiles stood up “It’s just that” “Can I help you?” His dad asked trying to diffuse the situation before Stiles was the next thing thrown across the room “I’m in town visiting my sister and she went to the grocery store Friday afternoon and never came back, she isn’t answering her phone and I can’t find her anywhere” Or the one where Laura dies and Derek is left to take care of her twins with the help of an officer and a newly bitten werewolf.

fic with the least words

Donuts (1,552 words) E

Stiles got an idea while out getting his morning coffee.

tagging: @theinternetisfulloftrash, @just-another-busy-fangirl @7thleveldown, @evanesdust, @phantomlove908, @theboboshow @teacupghost5

and anyone who wants to share

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf #fanfiction #ao3

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Hunting Trip

Summary: Jazz tries to give Danny some space, and somehow ends up going ghost hunting with her parents.

...

Jazz, for her part, does not know what to do when she’s not helping her brother.

Clearly Danny doesn’t want anything to do with her right now.  And Jazz thinks she might need some time to calm the ache in her chest.

But taking some time apart from Danny leaves her feeling kind of aimless.  Apart from him, she doesn’t have anyone who wants to spend time with her— unless you count boys drooling over her, which she most certainly doesn’t.  Before Danny and his secret, she spent most of her time doing schoolwork, studying psychology, and preparing for college.

And sure, she spends a lot of her time nowadays studying ghost psychology, but she only has so much to go off of.  Wading through all of her parents’ bad science first takes a little bit of time, but in the end it still leaves her with more free time than she’s used to.  Time she doesn’t know what to do with.  She finds herself rereading her old human psychology textbooks a lot, and searching for new papers of interest in the field.  And while they’re definitely intriguing, it feels pointless when there’s a far more interesting, far more crucial form of study she could be doing with her time.

And when she’s no longer doing anything involved with helping Danny.

Her parents, however, seem to have missed the memo.

“Jasmine, sweetie, where are you going?”

Jazz turns to look at her mother, raising an eyebrow.  “School?”

“You’re not going to drive Danny?”

Jazz winces, but letting their parents know they’re fighting is probably a bad idea, because then they’re more likely to ask what they’re fighting about.  So instead, Jazz waits until Danny wanders down the stairs a full fifteen minutes later, and looks surprised that she’s still there.

The drive to school is silent and awkward.  Danny spends the whole time looking out the window, and Jazz hyperfocuses on the road.  As soon as they arrive at school, Danny climbs quickly out of the car and all but runs off.

Jazz parks the car and sighs, leaning back against the seat.  She doesn’t love knowing she has another trip just like that to look forward to this afternoon.

For now, however, she’s off to AP Psych, which is sure to bring a boost to her mood that she’s definitely going to need to make it through the day.

She makes it to class early and slides into her usual seat, front row, middle aisle.  She has all of her supplies set out and ready by the time the warning bell rings, and she looks with interest up at the front as their teacher begins talking.

…And assigns a group project.

Jazz gives a long internal sigh.  She can’t think of many things she dislikes more than a group project.  She works better when she can work at her own pace and expect the workload.  In group projects, she almost inevitably has to do all of the work, which is fine except for all of the ways it’s not.

Sure enough, all of the slackers start turning to her immediately, trying to get her attention.  Jazz ignores every last one of them and waits until all of the other pairs have narrowed themselves down.  Finally, the last set gets paired off, leaving Jazz with a girl whose name she doesn’t know.  They set up a decent plan throughout the rest of the class period, and the girl stands up as the bell rings.

“Do you want to meet in the library later to get started?” Jazz asks.  “We don’t have to do everything today, but we don’t have too long to do it, we should probably do something.”

“Huh?  Oh sure, I’ll meet you there during lunch.”

Jazz nods and picks up her own things, then heads to her next class.

The girl does not show up during lunch.  Jazz sighs when she arrives, and heads to her usual table, the one closest to the window.  She hadn’t really been expecting her to, so she pulls out her psychology notebook and starts writing down a couple ideas for their presentation.  They can compare notes in class tomorrow.

She puts her notebook back in her bag as she finishes and turns to her lunch, trying not to feel disappointed that the girl didn’t show up.  Jazz doesn’t even know her name, but it’s a little harder than usual to shake off the sting of eating here alone when this time she had even a little bit of a reason to expect someone else to show up.

Thankfully, lunch ends not long after she finishes eating, so she can head out with a wave and smile to the school librarian towards her next class.

Part of the way down the hallway, Jazz spots Danny walking with Sam and Tucker.  His head is ducked down with his gaze on the floor, and he’s clearly trying to block out Sam’s loud voice.  Jazz can pretty easily assume what she’s talking about.  Tucker, walking in between her and Danny, isn’t looking at Sam either, and isn’t saying anything, though every now and then he casts a glance at Danny.  Jazz thinks, not for the first time, about smacking the two of their heads together.

And then the three of them walk past her and she grips her books tighter, trying to put it out of her mind.

She manages to keep her focus on her schoolwork for most of the next class period, at least until the ghost alarm goes off.  Everyone stands and starts for the football field, and Jazz immediately goes for her bag, which she keeps her thermos in.  Just because things are tense between her and Danny right now doesn’t mean she’s not going to watch his back when she can.

Sure enough, she spots him as soon as she gets outside, chasing something pretty quickly away from the school.  She probably won’t catch up before the fight’s over at the speed he’s going, but that doesn’t stop her stomach from curling up.  It doesn’t help when, a second later, she sees the Red Huntress— Valerie, and her two new sidekicks chasing after Danny.

Jazz squeezes her eyes shut and follows the crowd of students to the football field.  Danny can handle himself.  He can.  He’s fully capable of dealing with whoever’s shown up.

She’s proven right when she sees Danny again in the hallway on the way to her last class of the day.  This time he’s with Valerie, and Jazz can tell he’s tense.  She thinks, not for the first time, about smacking his head until he gets some sense back into it.

Danny’s waiting quietly by her car when Jazz walks out of the school.  And because it feels weird to not say anything when she knows Danny was in a battle earlier, she says, “Who showed up during 5th period?”

“Just Cujo,” Danny mutters as he climbs into the car.  “I lost him when Huntress and her sidekicks showed up.”

“You mean Valerie.”

“Jazz.”

Jazz backs out of the parking spot.  She can tell Danny’s had a worse day than her, so she doesn’t push.

That, unfortunately, means they ride back in silence again.  Jazz tries to come up with something to say the whole time.  If Mom and Dad are going to keep making them drive to school together, she should probably find some way to fill the space.  Finally, when they get home she parks the car outside the house and turns to face Danny.

“You know I’m just worried about you, right?” she asks.

“I don’t need this right now, Jazz,” Danny says, and moves to open the door.

“Danny, seriously,” Jazz says.  She reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder, only for Danny to wince badly and pull away.

Jazz’s eyes widen.  “Danny, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Danny snaps, turning back around and opening the door.  “Huntress got a lucky shot.”

Jazz looks up in exasperation, and shoves her instinctual comment down.  It would not go over well.  Instead, she says, “Do you need help with it?”

“No,” Danny says with a glare, before turning and storming up the steps.

Before he can make it up to his room, however, the door to the lab opens and Mom pokes her head out.

“Oh good, you’re home,” she says with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room.  “Could you two do the dishes?  Your father and I are falling behind on work and haven’t had a chance to get to them today.”

Danny clearly wants to do anything else, but comes back down the stairs anyway, keeping his bag on as he heads into the kitchen and setting it on the table.  Jazz follows and does the same, though she keeps her distance from Danny and starts instead with putting away the dishes in the dishwasher.

“Thank you!” Mom calls, turning to head back down into the lab.

Jazz sighs.  She spares half a glance at Danny and finds him with his gaze turned firmly down towards the sink.

Awkwardly doing dishes together in silence it is, then.

The kitchen is big enough that they can both avoid each other with only a little difficulty, Jazz focusing on putting clean dishes away and Danny putting new ones in the washing machine.  All in all, it doesn’t take them terribly long, and before long Danny’s starting the dishwasher and Jazz is turning to go start on homework.

Before she can, however, footsteps appear on the stairs and Mom once again walks into the kitchen.

“Hey kids, when you finish— oh good, you’re done.  Could you come down into the lab and take the trash out?”

Jazz gives a long internal sigh, and Danny looks up for a moment at the ceiling, but both of them start towards the steps.  Danny steps in front of Jazz and leads the way down the steps.  He tends to tell Jazz he’ll handle this chore, as the one less likely to be affected if there’s anything still radioactive in the trash.

Jazz makes it down the steps just after Danny does, and he starts over for the trash.  Jazz looks up at their parents to find them both hard at work on something on one of the tables.

“Thanks sweetie,” Mom calls with a smile at Danny.  Danny gives a vague nod of acknowledgment and grabs the bag out of the trash can.  Jazz steps aside at the base of the steps to let him up, but before he can get very far Mom stops and turns to face them both.

“Oh, and when you’re done with that—”

“Oh my god, are you blind?” Danny snaps, whirling to face her.  “We don’t want to be around each other!”

“Danny!” Mom says, putting her hands on her hips.  “Excuse me, young man?  Do you want to try phrasing that differently?”

Danny groans and doesn’t reply, just turns and stomps up the stairs, which is probably not the best idea if he wants Mom to leave them alone.

“Danny, come back here and speak to your mother,” Dad says, turning around when Danny doesn’t come back down.  But Danny just slams the door to the lab.

“Danny!” Mom starts, moving towards the steps.

Jazz shoves herself in front of them before she can get there.

“Please just let him go,” she says, holding her hands up.  “He’s had a really bad day.”

“What did he mean by you two don’t want to be around each other?” Mom asks, crossing her arms and giving Jazz a curious look.  “Did you two have a fight?”

“Wow, thanks for noticing,” Jazz mutters despite herself, then she catches her breath.

“It’s fine,” she amends, turning back to Mom and Dad, who are now looking at her with much more apt attention.  “We’ll work it out.  Danny’s just… had a really bad time lately.  Could you just cut him a break, please?  I’ll do whatever needs to get done.”

Mom and Dad exchange a glance.

“Jazz, sweetie,” Mom says, turning back to face her.  “Do you want us to help you talk things out?”

“No,” Jazz says immediately.  “We’re fine, we’ve got it.  Danny just needs some time.”

“We could talk to him,” Mom says, looking up the stairs after him.

“I don’t think that would help, Mom,” Jazz says, before wincing at the hurt look on her face.

“He’s a teenage boy,” she rushes to explain.  “The last thing he wants is to talk to his parents about his feelings.  I really think he just needs some space.”

“I think Jazz might be right, Mads,” Dad says, putting a hand on his shoulder.  “We don’t want to make things worse by going after him when he doesn’t want to talk.”

Mom sighs, clearly dissatisfied.  “Oh, alright,” she says, and Jazz gives a quiet sigh of relief.  But then a second later Mom turns back to her and says, “Do you want to talk about it, sweetie?”

Jazz blinks at her.  “Me?”

But both of her parents are now looking at her expectantly, and Jazz doesn’t know what to make of that.

“Uh,” Jazz says.  “No?”

Both of her parents exchange another glance, one Jazz can’t read.

“Jazz, sweetheart,” Mom says.  “You just spent ten minutes explaining all about how you’ve had a fight because Danny’s had a hard time lately.”

“Yeah?” Jazz says, still not sure what they’re getting at.

“Princess, that doesn’t say anything about how you’re doing,” Dad says.

Jazz startles.  “Me?  Oh, I—” she laughs.  “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.  I’m not— I’m just saying Danny’s had a lot going on lately.”

Mom and Dad exchange another look.

“Really,” Jazz insists.  “I’m fine.”

They both look back at her for a second, and finally Mom nods.

“Okay sweetie,” she says.  She leans forward and kisses Jazz’s forehead.  “Just know we’re here if you want to talk.”

“Uh, sure,” Jazz says, backing up and heading back up the stairs.  “Anyway, I have homework.”

She shakes off the strange interaction as she heads up to her room.  At least she got Mom and Dad to leave Danny alone.

…

Jazz is woken the next morning by loud banging on her door.  She rubs her eyes and sits up, blinking over at the door, and yawns.  Normally her alarm wakes her up just fine, she can’t remember the last time someone had to wake her up.

“Hello?” she calls.

The door bangs open just a second later and Dad walks in with a bright grin on his face.

“Good morning, Princess!  You want to come ghost hunting with me and your mom today?”

Jazz blinks.  “What?  No.  I have school.  What?”

“Well lucky for you, your mom already called in for you!  I’m taking Danny to school in a bit, and then you get to spend the day with just us!”

Jazz blinks again.  “What?”

“We’ll see you downstairs in half an hour!” Dad calls, and turns and runs back out of the room.

Jazz looks after him for a couple seconds, and then her alarm goes off next to her on her nightstand.

When she considers it, it’s not the worst idea.  It’s not like her grades are going to plummet if she misses a day of school.  And if they’re ghost hunting while she’s trying to change their minds, it definitely gives her a fair bit of leverage.  There for sure will be plenty of examples to point to.

So, after a minute, she climbs out of bed and pulls her clothes on.  She grabs the spare thermos she keeps in her desk, and a regular notebook, not the one with her notes on ghost psychology.  She can remember anything she actually needs to write down later.

She makes it downstairs after Danny leaves by design, and finds Mom setting a plate of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon down in front of her.

“Eat up,” she says with a smile.  “You’ll need energy to be fighting ghosts all day.”

Well, she’s far more used to fighting ghosts than Mom realizes, but that doesn’t mean a bigger breakfast than usual is a bad idea.  She finishes about the time Dad gets back, who eats another helping of pancakes himself before he and Mom both start towards the lab.

“Come on sweetie, you’ll need some weapons!” Mom calls up to her.  “We can’t rely entirely on the GAV.”

Jazz heads down the steps, already writing off the weapons in her head that do unnecessary damage.  She doesn’t want to hurt any of the ghosts too badly, especially if Danny shows up.

She ends up going with a small blaster in case a more dangerous ghost shows up, and the Fenton Foamer in the case of a less dangerous, but still unruly ghost.

Her parents, of course, go right for the dangerous weapons.  Jazz is going to have her work cut out for her.

Thankfully, no ghosts show up for at least a little bit as they start driving, which Mom is handling, so Dad isn’t turning to talk to her when he should be focusing on the road.

“So, Princess, I know this is all pretty new to you,” he says.  “But you don’t need to worry.  There isn’t a specter out there we can’t handle!”

“Sure Dad,” Jazz says.  “But uh, we don’t have to jump straight to fighting, do we?”

Dad laughs, loud and boisterous.  “Don’t be silly sweetheart, of course we do!”

“Your father’s right, hun,” Mom says, keeping her gaze on the road.  “We have to make sure no one gets hurt.”

“Well, what if there’s no one around?” Jazz asks.  “Wouldn’t we learn more from the ghost by talking to it for a bit?”

“We’d need to capture it first, sweetheart,” Mom says.  “They won’t stay still long enough otherwise.”

“I wonder why,” Jazz mutters, glancing at the weapons sitting next to her in the back seat.  She doesn’t say anything else, though.  She’s going to have to figure out the right way to talk to her parents about this while they’re clearly not in the mind space to listen.

If there’s a way to interact with the ghosts without them seeing her parents, maybe?  But she can’t think of a way to do that without her parents also not seeing her, which would defeat the purpose.  Maybe if she—

“Jazz?  Honey?”

Jazz glances up at Mom, who’s looking at her through the rear view mirror.  “Yeah?”

“We need to tell you something,” Mom says.  “We didn’t just bring you today so we could fight ghosts together.”

Jazz blinks.  “Huh?”

“Princess, when we talked last night you said you and Danny were having a fight,” Dad says.  “But you only talked about how Danny was doing.”

“So?” Jazz asks, not sure what they’re getting at.

Before they can answer, there’s a crash up ahead, and a ghost flies out of a building.  Jazz has just enough time to recognize the familiar blue of the Box Ghost before Mom swerves the car to the side of the road.

Dad reaches back and grabs a couple of weapons that are seriously overkill for the Box Ghost, and the two of them leap out of the car, with a call from Mom to stay back and stay safe.

Jazz rolls her eyes and grabs the thermos, then turns and looks behind her towards the back of the car.  It takes her a minute but she locates what she’s looking for— Dad’s recent shipment of supplies, still in box.  She dumps the supplies onto the ground, then climbs out of the side door with the box and the thermos.

The Box Ghost is monologuing threateningly at her parents, who are shooting blasts at him.

“Hey!” Jazz calls, and all three of them look over.  Jazz holds up the box.  “Catch!”

She throws it well over the Box Ghost’s head, and when he dives after it, fires up the thermos and sucks him in with little effort.

Both Mom and Dad stare at her for a second, but Jazz just turns and takes the thermos back to the car, Box Ghost now inside.

It takes a second for them both to come back, and when they do, they’re grinning.

“Princess, that was spectacular!” Dad says brightly.  “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“He’s called the Box Ghost,” Jazz says.  “I took an educated guess.”

“Well it was a good guess, sweetie,” Mom says, climbing back in the front seat.  “You get first catch of the day.”

“Like we’re fishing?” Jazz asks.

“Well, it means you get to pick the spot for lunch!” Dad says with a grin at her.  “But we don’t have to worry about that yet.”

“Anyway, we were talking,” Mom says as she starts the car up again, and the mood instantly sombers in a way that catches Jazz off guard.

“Jazz,” she says, stopping as she pulls up to a light.  She turns and glances back at her for just a second.  “Isn’t Danny fighting with you affecting you too?”

“Oh, that’s what you meant,” Jazz realizes.  She shakes her head.  “Danny’s got enough going on right now without me getting on his case about stuff like that.  He really just needs some space.”

“What other stuff does he have going on?” Dad asks, sounding confused, like he really hadn’t noticed anything.

“Nothing,” Jazz says, certain Danny wouldn’t want her to say anything about Sam and Tucker, or Valerie.  “I’m just not going to pile on.”

“Sweetie,” Mom says, even as she turns back around and the light turns green.  “That’s fine, and that’s very mature of you, but you wouldn’t be piling on if you were talking about it with someone else.”

“Like who?” Jazz says, turning to look out the window.

“Jazz, we’re trying to let you know that you can talk to us about things like this,” Mom says.  “We might even be able to help you resolve things.  It’s not like we’ve never dealt with you and your brother having a fight before.”

Jazz doesn’t say anything.  They’d dealt with her and her brother having fights about things when they were much younger.  And even then, it was things like who gets the last cookie, or who has to pick up the toys they both left out in the living room.  She doubts they’d know how to help with “I don’t want to tell Mom and Dad that I’m the ghost they want to rip apart” and “Danny you need to spend time with people who don’t absolutely hate you and everything about you.”

“It’s nothing you guys will be able to help with,” Jazz says, scooting more towards the window and keeping her gaze away from her parents.

“Well how do you know if you haven’t tried?” Dad asks.

“I just know,” Jazz says, scooting even further forward in an effort to show she wants them to drop it.

“Sweetie, I really think you should—”

“You’re still not listening to me!” Jazz exclaims, turning to face them both.  She holds back a glare as best she can.  “You don’t listen about this, you don’t ever listen about ghosts, and maybe the reason I don’t want to talk to you is because it won’t actually help anything!  Because you won’t actually listen to me when I do it!”

Her Dad stares at her, and she can feel her Mom wanting to too, and Jazz turns to look back out the window.

“Jazz,” Mom says after a second.  “We’re trying to listen right now.  Are you okay?”

Jazz sighs.  “I’m fine.”  She turns to face them again.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have snapped like that.  It’s just… it’s really difficult to talk to you guys sometimes.  It seems like you always have something else on your mind.”

She watches them both exchange a look, and after a second, Mom pulls over on the side of the road, next to the park.  Then they both turn to face her again.

“I’m really sorry we made you feel that way, Jazz,” Mom says, concern written on her face.

“I know we can get pretty busy, Princess,” Dad says, unbuckling so he can turn more comfortably.  “But if you need to talk to us, we’ll make the time for it.  What do you want to talk about?”

Jazz stares at them both for a moment, searching their faces.  They both seem sincere.  So she has managed to get through to them a little bit.  How best to use this chance?

“You guys…” she says slowly.  “I think you guys jump right into shooting at ghosts when it’s not always… necessary.”  She holds up the thermos.  “Like with the Box Ghost.  He’s actually shown up a couple times around school.  I don’t think anyone even really gets scared of him anymore.  And you automatically think all ghosts are malicious.”

“Well, Princess, they’re—” Dad starts.

“Are you listening or not?” Jazz says firmly, and Dad, after a moment, reluctantly stops.

“I don’t think they are,” she says.  “Plenty of ghosts just want to go about their business.”

“Like who?” Mom asks, still looking suspicious.

Jazz opens her mouth, when the perfect answer shows up right outside their door.  Dash is running through the park screaming, holding a chihuahua, and being chased by a giant Cujo.  Both of their parents reach for their weapons, but Jazz holds up a hand.

“Wait,” she says, opening the door.  “Just give me a second.”

She’s not surprised when Mom and Dad both grab for their weapons anyway, but she is surprised when, after getting out of the car, they let her run off after Cujo, and just follow close behind.

Jazz puts them out of her mind and calls out Cujo’s name.

He turns after a second, and recognizes her, but then turns again and barks after Dash and the chihuahua.

Dash runs behind a tree and peeks out, seeming to calm down a little bit when he notices three of the Fentons running towards him.

Jazz heads quickly over to the tree Dash is hiding behind, and spots the problem as soon as she gets there.  In the chihuahua’s mouth is Cujo’s chew toy.  Danny described it to her, as well as its importance.

“I need that,” Jazz says, pointing at the chew toy.

Dash, after a little struggle, takes it from the chihuahua.  “Here,” he says, his hand shaking a little as he hands it to Jazz.

Jazz heads back out from behind the tree and finds her parents off to the side, guns still pointed at Cujo, who does not seem happy about it.

“Cujo!” Jazz calls, and holds up the chew toy in Cujo’s line of sight.  “Hey, boy!”

Cujo, as soon as he spots the toy, starts panting happily, and by the time he runs over to Jazz he’s back to his normal size.

“Hey good boy,” Jazz coos, setting the chew toy down in front of him.  “Did that mean old chihuahua take your toy from you?  Did he?”

“Hey!” Dash calls off in the distance.

Cujo barks happily and picks up the toy, then shakes it back and forth in his mouth a couple times.  He drops it, licks Jazz’s hand in thanks, and then picks it up and runs off.

Jazz turns to face the tree Dash is behind again.  “Hey Dash,” she calls, and he pokes his head out.  “Maybe don’t steal the ghost dog’s chew toys.”

Dash gives a weak smile and a nod.

Then Jazz turns back to her parents, who are both gaping at her, guns dropped to their sides.

“So uh,” she says as she walks back over to them.  “I hope that kind of proves my point?”

Mom nods, still looking a little stunned.  “Okay Jazz,” she says.  “Maybe.”  She looks off in the direction Cujo ran in.  “But that ghost dog could have still seriously hurt someone.  And he’s still more dangerous than a normal dog.”

“Maybe,” Jazz agrees in turn.  “But shooting at him would have only made it worse.  And he was wronged first.  Dash’s dog stole his toy.”

Her parents exchange a look with each other.

“Jazz,” Mom says, turning back to face her.  “How much have you interacted with ghosts?”

Jazz winces.  “More than you guys realize,” she admits.  “Enough to have proof that they’re not inherently evil.”

“And you’re certain of that?” Dad asks.

Jazz nods.  “Positive.  Are there ghosts that cause trouble, or ghosts that are dangerous?  Sure.  But there are humans who are like that too.  And there are ghosts who aren’t.”

“We don’t see very many like that,” Mom points out.

“Yeah, because they all hang out back in the ghost zone and mind their own business.”

Neither of her parents seem to know what to say to that.

Before Jazz can say anything else, a figure streaks by overhead, and Jazz glances up in time to spot the familiar jumpsuit of her little brother.

Chasing after him are Valerie and her two new sidekicks.

“Back to the GAV!” Mom calls, and all three of them run for it, though Jazz has a different level of panic than she’s sure her parents both do.  Danny could always handle the three of them, sure, but that was before he realized the Red Huntress is Valerie.  And given the way Valerie got a lucky shot yesterday…

Sure enough, when her parents start chasing after the four of them and paying little attention to the road, she sees Danny just keep flying, and not throw a single hit back towards Valerie.  At one point, he takes a hit to the back that makes Jazz wince.

Unfortunately, she can’t help up there.  The best she can do is not make it worse.

So Jazz turns her attention to her parents, who are aiming directly at Danny and completely ignoring the fact that he’s not making any moves and is solely running for his life.

Jazz sees Dad go for the GAV weapons system, and tenses up.  But thankfully, since it’s Dad she can trust him to miss.

Which he does.

By accidentally aiming a shot right at Valerie.

A shot which Danny, idiot that he is, dives right in front of anyway.

He goes flying back into Valerie, and both of them then go flying into a building.

“Uh hey, maybe you guys should wait while there’s other people you could hit?” Jazz asks nervously.

“Maybe I should take over honey,” Mom says to Dad, and then she puts one hand on the wheel and one hand on the weapons.

Well, that doesn’t so much solve the problem as it does create a different one.  Mom has much better aim.

Jazz watches her mother for a second, then follows her aim towards Danny, who flies away from Valerie as well as her two sidekicks.

Thankfully, that makes things easier for Jazz, and she quietly unbuckles her seatbelt.  When Mom takes aim at Danny, Jazz jerks forward until she slams into her arm, pointing the gun straight up into the sky, and away from anyone who might get hit by it.

“Sorry,” she says, sitting back in her seat.  “Pothole!”

Thankfully, by the time Mom and Dad both get their bearings again, Danny is long gone, and so are Valerie and her sidekicks.  And though Jazz isn’t sure she can trust him enough to deal with the three of them without getting himself hurt again, there isn’t much she can do about that.

He probably won’t let her patch him up later either.

“Darn that Phantom!” Dad says, slamming his hand down on the dashboard.

“We’ll get him one of these days, hon,” Mom says, patting him on the shoulder as she pulls the GAV over to park on the side of the road.

Jazz considers it for a second, then shakes off the idea of saying anything on that particular subject.  She’s pushed her parents a lot today, and Danny is a subject that needs to be approached with a lot more care.

Instead, she lets her parents shake off the fight for a second, and then they turn back to her.

“Sorry for that interruption, sweetheart,” Mom says.  “It doesn’t mean we weren’t paying attention.  Phantom is just a ghost that requires immediate action.”

Jazz nods.  “Sure.”

“Princess, what we’ve really been trying to say through all of this is that we’re worried about you,” Dad says, turning once again to face her.

“I’m not the one you need to worry about,” Jazz says.  But neither of her parents look like they believe her.

“Jazz,” Mom says.  “Do you remember when Danny ran away?”

Jazz looks away.  How could she forget?  That time was a nightmare.  Mom and Dad had both been near frantic in trying to find Danny, sure he’d been captured by some ghost.  Sam and Tucker, as much as her feelings on them were mixed lately, had been constantly checking in for updates, and it was clear how scared for Danny they’d been.  And Jazz had been scouring the news for any mention of Phantom, and feeling something in her break every time she saw a news story of her brother doing things that were so unlike him.  While at the same time being unable to say anything to anyone, because she was the only one who had any idea what was really going on.

She never wants to go through anything like it ever again.

“What about it?” she says quietly to Mom.

“You didn’t talk to anyone all throughout that,” Mom says.  “And it seems like you’re doing the same thing with this fight with Danny.  We just don’t think it’s a good idea, sweetheart.”

Jazz closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.  “I’m not going to tell you things Danny doesn’t want you to know,” she says plainly.  “And I don’t…” she opens her eyes again and sighs.

“I don’t have anyone else I can talk to,” she admits.  “It’s hard to make friends when everyone sees you as the Weird Fenton Girl, or the Weird Psychology Girl.  Just… let me handle the fight with Danny.  I can do it.  Okay?”

There’s a couple seconds of silence from the front seat.  Then, she sees Mom move out of the corner of her eye, and a second later she gives Jazz a kiss on the top of her head.

“I don’t like that you and Danny feel like you can’t talk to us,” she whispers.

Jazz pulls back slightly to look at both her parents.  “Permission to say something that could get me grounded?”

Mom raises an eyebrow, but Dad nods.  “Granted.”

“It’s not entirely unwarranted,” Jazz says quietly.

Mom narrows her eyes.  “What do you mean?”

Jazz shakes her head.  “Can’t tell you that.”

Mom sighs in frustration.  “Sweetie, you know that’s not exactly helpful, right?”

“Sorry,” Jazz says, but she doesn’t take it back.

“Okay,” Dad says, in a very somber tone for him.  “What can we do to help you feel like you can talk to us?”

“Listen better?” Jazz asks hesitantly.  “And… pay attention?”

Mom and Dad both exchange another look.  But finally, they turn back to her.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Mom says.  “We will.”

Jazz doesn’t quite know what to say in response to that.  So instead, she just quietly says “Thanks,” and rebuckles her seatbelt.

And after a long pause, Mom starts the car again and drives away.

…

Jazz isn’t expecting anything bigger than that to come out of the day.  That was pretty big all on its own, and she honestly might need a couple days to recover.

Unfortunately, her parents haven’t changed that much, and that night they show up at her room after dinner with a knock on her door, and Dad calling her name.

Jazz isn’t quite sure what they’re there for, but if she’s going to ask them to listen better, she should at least give them opportunities to.  So, she sets her homework aside and climbs up, then walks over and opens the door.

“Hi,” she says.  “What’s going on?”

“Well Jazz, your mother and I have talked it over, and we noticed the ways you knew how to handle those ghosts today,” Dad says with a bright grin.  “It was really something!”

“So, we were wondering if you might want to share any research you’ve done with us?” Mom asks.  “From a scientific interest, of course.  And you don’t have to.”

Despite that, Jazz can see how interested they both are.

Well, it’s a place to start, she supposes.

“It’s ghost psychology,” she warns.  “You know, buying into the ‘lunacy’ that they’re sentient and all that.”

Mom chuckles a little.  “Sounds about as crazy as the idea that ghosts exist in the first place, sweetie,” she says.  “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jazz starts to smile, and stands back to let her parents into her room.

#danny phantom #jazz fenton #danny fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #everyone knows au #my fic

[q-gorgeous]

Tucker Foley’s terrible, awful, very bad day

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 1736

Tucker Foley’s terrible, awful, very bad day

ihbwudhbiwhn

Tucker Foley’s terrible, awful, very bad day. 

This day could’ve been salvageable if it wasn’t for the blade he’d just taken through his chest. 

~~~

It started like any normal bad day would start. By waking up late. 

He looked at his phone and it was already five minutes past when his first hour started. He shot up out of bed and started stumbling around, trying to get dressed and make sure he had everything he needed for the day. 

Stupid Technus for starting a fight with him at midnight. Stupid Technus for asking him a question that led to a discussion. Stupid Tucker for losing track of time. 

He transformed and flew through his ceiling. He normally didn’t like to fly to school but his mom wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if she found out he missed all of first period. 

And then he remembered he forgot to grab something to eat. 

He got to class and they were watching a movie. He missed a movie! But it made it impossible not to notice him as he walked in. The light from the hallway shone into the classroom and everyone’s heads turned to stare at him. 

“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Foley.” Lancer drawled out. “I’ll see you in detention this afternoon.” 

Tucker groaned and made his way back to his seat next to Sam and Danny. 

“Dude, where have you been?” Sam leaned forward in her seat as she whispered behind him as he sat down. 

Tucker yawned. “I overslept. I hope Lancer doesn’t call my mom.” 

“You’ve gotta figure your stuff out, man.” Danny whispered as he leaned across the aisle. “You miss class all the time now.”

Tucker rolled his eyes and slumped down in his seat. “Things happen. I don’t have anything I need to figure out.”

Danny shrugged. “If you say so.” 

~~~

The next bad thing that happened today was that Sam tried to introduce another new menu in the cafeteria. Today was the first day. Tofu. Which would’ve been fine, but the lunch ladies did not know how to cook tofu. It tasted like all they did to it was heat it up and then serve it just like that. Needless to say, he didn’t eat lunch that day. He sure was hungry though. 

“It’s wet, Sam.” Tucker frowned at her. 

“It’s tofu.” Sam said as she put another piece in her mouth.

“Yeah, but can’t you at least grill it?” Danny poked the tofu on his tray and it jiggled. “Or even season it?”

“At least it’s not garbage this time.” Tucker leaned his head into his hand and Sam rolled her eyes at them. 

Later towards the end of their lunch, Tucker got into an argument with Danny about whether or not hurting ghosts was morally right. Danny thought it was because ghosts didn’t care if they hurt you. Tucker countered it with only some ghosts didn’t care. The ones that did care just didn’t seem to make their way out of the ghost zone very often. 

“Ghosts don’t care about anything.” Danny complained, gesturing with his hand while he stabbed at his last piece of tofu. “All they do is come and terrorize us here in Amity Park.” 

“But aren’t there probably like, millions of ghosts in the ghost zone? They can’t all be bad. That’d be like assuming all men are bad. Or all gay people. There’s bad people in every demographic but that doesn’t mean the whole demographic is bad.” 

Sam stood up as the bell rang. “Tucker’s right. Obviously, a ghost needs to be dealt with if they’re causing problems but to hurt them intentionally just because they’re a ghost? That doesn’t sound right to me.” 

They headed towards the garbage cans and threw their food away. 

Danny stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched up his shoulders. “Well, until I meet a ghost that doesn’t try to hurt or terrorize someone, I’m sticking with my guns on this.”

“Well, what about Ghouly?”

Tucker flinched when Sam said his name. They both knew how Danny felt about Tucker’s ghost half. He didn’t know why she kept trying to convince Danny of it when they both knew he wouldn’t change his mind. 

Danny scoffed. “He’s the worst of the worst. He puts on a mask to convince and manipulate everyone. I’d probably trust him the least out of all of them.” 

Tucker ignored the pitying look Sam shot him. 

He’d let Sam in on his secret the first time Danny had gotten a good hit on him. 

Tucker had been flying and chasing after another ghost when Danny had shot him in the shoulder from behind. 

His shoulder popped out and burst with pain. He had thought “screw it” and turned invisible to try to lose Danny. He wouldn’t be able to capture that ghost like this anyways. Danny could take care of it.

But where would he go? Tucker didn’t know if he could set it on his own. And he couldn’t go to the doctor’s office like this. As he flew through the air he could already feel his transformation pulling. He wouldn’t last long enough to get it popped in and leave before he detransformed if he went to the hospital. 

That left one option. 

He made his way across town to Sam’s house. He flew through her wall into her room and she looked up at him with big eyes and dropped the spoon she’d been using to eat apple sauce. 

“Ghouly?”  

He collapsed onto her bed heavily, wincing as his back hit the wall and jostled his shoulder.

“I need your help.” 

Sam sat up and nodded, her hands hovering in front of her. 

“What do I have to do?”

He pointed at his shoulder. “We have to pop this back in.”

“You want me to set your dislocated shoulder?!” 

Tucker nodded. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”

Sam frowned at him. “Why did you come here?” 

Tucker opened his mouth to respond but his transformation ring appeared around his waist. He pushed it back and it disappeared. Sam was staring at where it had been a moment ago. 

“We have to do this before I transform. The muscles are looser when I’m a ghost. It’ll be harder to pop back in in my human form.” 

“Your human form? What does-“

“Just hurry, please.” 

She studied him for a moment before nodding. “Okay.” 

“On the count of three?” Tucker looked up at her. She nodded. 

“One-“ She popped his shoulder back in and he saw spots in his eyes.

“What happened to two and three?!”

She shrugged. “I’ve always heard that doctors do that so you’re not so tense when it gets set.”

He closed his eyes. “Fair enough.”

Then he could feel his transformation pulling on his core again. He didn’t try to stop it because he knew it would keep fighting him. 

“Tucker?!” 

~~~

The last thing that happened that day was that Skulker just had to come back and try to hunt Danny down again. Tucker didn’t understand what his fascination with Danny was. He was a human! Why was the ghost zone’s greatest hunter so fascinated with hunting a human? 

Skulker was the only ghost that Danny actually helped Tucker fight instead of trying to use it to capture Tucker himself. He couldn’t get Tucker if he himself got captured and killed. So they worked as a team to get Skulker. 

Fighting Skulker also meant that Tucker missed his detention for today, so his mom was definitely going to be getting a phone call. 

“You take him from behind, I’ll get him from the front?” Danny called to him. Tucker nodded. He flew around out of view as Skulker flew up to Danny.

“What do you want this time, tin can?” Danny sneered at him. “Ready to lose another round?” 

“I’m here to claim your pelt and hang it on my wall.” Danny wrinkled his nose at that. 

“Why?” 

“You’re the greatest human ghost hunter!” Skulker bellowed. “What would it say about me if I couldn’t catch you? You’re my ultimate prize.” 

“Uh, what about the Fenton’s?” Danny asked him.

“Your buffoonish parental units do not even remotely compare.” And how did all the ghosts just know who Danny was straight out of the gate? 

Tucker could tell that Danny was rolling his eyes under his mask. “If they’re really buffoons, how did they make the working portal that you all seem to love so much?” 

“They-“ Skulker cut off as Tucker jumped at him. Sulker dodged and Tucker went flying past Danny. A maniacal smile spread over Skulker’s face and he pulled a blade out of his suit. He pulled his arm back and charged at Danny. 

“No!” 

Tucker threw himself in front of Skulker’s blade. He shoved Danny out of the way, sending him flying through the air. The blade pierced his chest and he could feel as it pushed its way through to the other side. 

He could hear Danny shouting. Then Skulker pulled the blade out. Tucker fell to the ground and lay there. Fighting sounds came from the sky above him and then everything went quiet. 

Then he was being rolled off of his side onto his back. His shoulders were being shaken and he opened his eyes a crack. 

Danny was above him. He had a strained expression on his face. Tucker could tell he didn’t understand why he would’ve sacrificed himself for Danny like that. They weren’t supposed to be close like that. He wasn’t supposed to matter to Ghouly like that.

His transformation ring appeared around his waist and Tucker breathed out a laugh. He guessed Danny would be understanding a lot sooner that Tucker would’ve expected. 

As the rings passed over his body he closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see the look of horror he thought would appear on Danny’s face. 

He heard a shout. It was probably his name. He thought somebody grabbed his shoulders again but he could feel himself drifting away. He was pretty tired. 

Then he felt his entire body shift and this time he definitely knew someone was holding him. He could tell he was safe. He could let himself drift off now. 

He hoped this would be the end of his terrible, awful, very bad day. Hopefully tomorrow would be better. 

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #tucker foley #danny fenton #sam manson #inverse trio #phic phight 2024 #fanfiction

[dilf-din]

Safe Place to Land: Part 2

—A Frankie Morales Series—

WC: 4300

Warnings: language, angst, loss of a loved one, hurt/comfort

Rating: T, won’t go beyond that

A/N: thank you to everyone who read the first chapter! This and all forthcoming ones will consist of a lot of time jumps. As always, feedback is appreciated. Would love to know if anything stuck out to you :-)

Part 1 // Part 3

September 2007

Time passed slowly and quickly when Frankie was away. Life can’t stop for one person. You knew that achingly well. There were always classes to attend, papers to write, shifts to cover, crises to attend to. You and your mother had struggled to keep the cafe afloat, divvying up responsibilities as well as you could. You were young and tired, and she was getting older and even more tired.

“I think we need to sell, ma,” you said one night as the two of you pored over cost projections for the next year.

A single tear slipped down her left cheek as she took her glasses off, fingers pushing into her tired eyes. “I know.”

“You could retire, rest. Dad wouldn’t want you to be miserable, you know that, right?” you took one of her hands in yours.

“I know. I’ll start looking into it on Monday. Maybe we can take a trip with some of the money, you need to relax too,” she said readjusting her glasses and straightening up the papers.

“That would be really nice, ma,” you smiled.

May 2008

You did it, somehow against all odds, you finished your bachelor’s degree in English in four years. Your 22nd birthday came and went. You spent it with your mom and a FaceTime call from Sadie. She was going to be on Broadway soon and you beamed listening to her update you with the chaos of a dress rehearsal going on behind her.

You chose a simple, sleeveless black dress with a cutout in the back and a pair of black wedges to wear under your gown. The late May heat wasn’t anything to play with. You had your hair pulled and pinned to one side to give your neck some sort of breathing room. The graduation ceremony was held at a local outdoor amphitheater. A simple black stage with a curved roof opposite a wall of stadium seating. There were about 100 students in this batch of graduates, you had made a few friends in your program but nothing life changing. You feigned disinterest in the ceremony, but deep down, you were fucking proud of yourself for making it this far. You smiled at your mom as your neared the front of the line. Shooting her a big smile while the photographer snapped your picture. You waited in the holding area for graduates until the ceremony ended. Scanning for your mom in the crowd, but were having trouble spotting her. She was a little thing and blended in with the reuniting families, the hugs and laughter. Your phone buzzed at your side so you unzipped your gown to fish it out of your pocket, not checking the caller ID first.

“Where are you?” you asked shielding your eyes from the early afternoon sun.

“Turn around,” a familiar voice shot back and your heart did a somersault. You turned to see your beaming mom standing under an awning, beside her was Frankie. Your Frankie. Still in his fatigues, back early from his first deployment. You trotted over as fast as you could in your clunky shoes and he sprinted to meet you halfway completely sweeping you up in an embrace. You clung to him tightly fighting back the tears. “Hey baby,” he whispered into your hair, setting you down but not relenting his grip on you. “How did you get here? You said you would be out until July at least,” you gasped clutching his face. His jaw stronger, beard fuller than it was when you were kids. “We get shit done, told them I had somewhere to be and wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he nuzzled his nose into yours and you breathed deep the scent you had missed so terribly. The only way you could sleep at night was tangled up in his memory, flannels and hoodies long loved by you both. “I’m so proud of you, hermosa,” he said holding one hand out to steady you while you peeled off your gown to hand to your mom. His hands immediately went up to aid you in unpinning the cap from your head. “Wait, we didn’t get a picture,” you said and your mom gave you a look that assured you she had covered it. “I’m gonna go ahead to the restaurant, you two meet me there?” she asked gathering everything together neatly.

“I’ll get her there safe, ma’am,” Frankie smiled at her and she reached out to squeeze his hand before exiting to find her car.

He went to speak and you cut him off.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” you barely choked out wrapping your arms back around his neck, this time the tears couldn’t be held back. “I’ve been worried sick.”

“I’m right here, princesa, always gonna come home to you,” he murmured planting a kiss on your temple and smoothing your hair.

You could tell from the way he was holding himself and the tension in his shoulders that he had endured unspeakable things. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked with concern on your face, reaching up to hold his cheek once more.

He shook his head. “Today is your day, it’ll be nice to take my mind off things,” he said lifting your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm.

You had an agreement to not kiss in public places when he had been away because you both know you wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Let’s get lunch over with so we can have some alone time,” you winked, taking his hand in your own and leading him back towards the parking lot.

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned.

His hand rested on your thigh the whole ride to the restaurant. You clutched his arm tightly pressing kisses up and down it, thanking every deity you could name for bringing him home to you in one piece.

It was only his first assignment. You didn’t know how many laid ahead of him, how many years you would live this life. You had to reign your thoughts in, careful to be present in this moment with him beside you, breathing the same air as you.

“How long until you leave again?”

“I don’t know,” he replied simply, “Depends on when they need us again. I’ll be home for at least 6 weeks they said though.”

“I can work with six whole weeks of my favorite guy,” you sighed pressing another kiss into his shoulder.

He pulled into the parking lot finding a space near the front. “Oh, I got you something,” he exclaimed turning around to rummage through his duffle bag. He pulled out a small fabric bag with the drawstrings tied in a small bow, more likely for safe keeping than for looks.

You undid the knot and pulled a beautiful necklace out. A small jade pendant in a gold casing hanging on a dainty gold chain. “Happy birthday, hermosa, sorry it’s late,” he whispered leaning in close to brush his lips across your cheek. “Frankie it’s so beautiful,” you said, overcome with gratitude to know that he still thought about you when he was on the other side of the world in the trenches. You held it up to him wordlessly and he clasped it around your neck, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder sending a chill down your spine.

“Frankie,” you whined, “We have to go eat with my mom first.”

“I’ll behave,” he smirked into your neck, his lips still trailing your skin.

“You’re leaving those one when we get back to my apartment by the way,” you said gesturing to his fatigues and a blood red flush crept up his cheeks.

You cackled opening your door to exit his camero.

Valentine’s Day 2004

You smoothed the front of your dress over and over, your nerves clearly getting the best of you. It had been almost 6 months since you kissed Frankie goodbye. There had been letters and Skype calls, enough to get you by, but there was no denying the ache in your heart that would subside the second you saw his face. You waited at the arrival gate of the Denver airport beside his parents. You had made a sign with his mother the night before and his dad was clutching a small bouquet of balloons. She squeezed your hand gently, her hands were warm and broad but softer than any other. Marisol had always liked you. You had been to their house over the years for birthday parties, school projects, general tomfoolery in the summer months. She has always been kind to you. While he had been gone, the two of you found company in each other. She taught you how to roll tamales and empanadas while telling you stories about Frankie, and you gladly soaked it all in taking the chance to practice your Spanish. “Here he comes mija,” she said excitedly as people started pouring off the elevators. It wasn’t long before his cap came into view. His face lit up at the sight of the three of you and he jogged straight into his mother’s arms. “We are so proud of you,” she squealed grabbing his face in her lands. “Let me look at you, they aren’t feeding you enough,” she tutted. “Mama,” he groaned as his dad brought him into an embrace and kissed his temple whispering a thankful prayer for his safe return.

“I have a surprise for you,” his mom whispered loudly opening her purse a bit for their old chihuahua to pop his head out.

“Chico!” Frankie exclaimed picking up the small dog and kissing the top of his head over and over. You smiled and put your hand on his arm and he carefully handed Chico back to his mom who nestled him back down in the blanket she brought for him.

He pulled you in tight and with strong soft hands, like you were the most precious thing he’d ever hold. “Hey beautiful,” he murmured pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Hi handsome,” you whispered back giving him one tight squeeze before pulling away.

The two of you sat hand in hand in the backseat of his parents’ car. His thumb slowly dragging up and down yours, the small touch filling your tank from the last six months spent wishing for his hands on your body again.

“So you finished your training, what’s next?” his mom asked from the front seat. Huge sunglasses obscuring most of her face, but her red lipped smile beaming at him from the rear view mirror.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you all about,” he started, his legs shifting uncomfortably. “They actually selected me to go straight into Special Forces,” he said slowly, waiting for the reactions. His parents exchanged a worried look. “Isn’t that like super intense, dangerous missions?” you said carefully, your heart plummeting inside of you. “Yes and no,” he said carefully. “Look, I’m good. Really good. They don’t select many pilots for this kind of stuff. And I would make almost double what I would just being in the army,” he said quickly.

“I don’t doubt that you’re talented son,” his father replied, pride still evident through his worry. His mother stared silently out the window. Her thoughts a thousand miles away.

“When would you leave again?” you asked quietly.

“Next month,” he said just as quietly. “And the training would be another eighteen.”

You froze. You had just gotten him back.

“Will you be able to come back at all?” you asked again, your voice barely a whisper, your heart now in your throat causing your words to come out thickly. You prayed you wouldn’t cry.

“Yeah I would have some leave time, I don’t have all the details yet, they have to send me the info. I said yes though, and I feel good about it,” he said firmly.

“I trust you, hijo,” his father said, locking eyes with him in the mirror once more.

Frankie’s mouth turned upwards in a small smile. He finally dared to look over at you. You gave the biggest smile you could muster and nodded. You could see the relief wash over him.

His parents had graciously allowed you two to spend Valentine’s evening together despite how much they had missed their boy. You found yourself next to him in his camero just like the last (and technically first) night you had spent together.

“Where would you like to go, mi amor?” he asked pressing a kiss to your hand.

“I’m not really hungry, pick a place that sounds good to you,” you replied. The thought of him being in the army was enough to cause you anxiety, the thought of him being in special forces was enough to make sure you never ate or slept again.

“Baby,” he said softly, “You need to eat.”

You took in a deep shuddering breath, willing yourself to continue putting up a front now that you were alone, but the tears came without warning.

“C’mere,” he whispered, pulling you into his chest. “I, I can talk to my recruiting officer,” he started.

“No,” you said firmly. You pulled away from his chest to face him, “You are not going to back out on a dream because of me. I might be sad now, and there will be days I’ll be sad in the future, but I can take it. What I can’t take is knowing you walked away from something that could be life changing because I shed a few tears. It’s not going to happen.”

“Have I told you lately that I love you,” he said softly and he used his thumb to wipe away your stray tears.

“I never get tired of hearing it,” you replied, pressing your forehead to his. “We’ll figure it out, Frankie. I knew this would be a long road and we wouldn’t ever have the full picture at the same time.”

He looked at you so intensely you almost wanted to look away.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Not everyone has the strength to say what you just said and commit the way you’ve committed.” Tears started pooling in his own eyes and he quickly looked down.

“Hey, I’m all in for you, Morales.”

“I’m all in, princesa,” he replied pulling you in to a slow kiss.

That night, you would give yourselves to each other fully for the first time. Everything about it was just like Frankie, slow, sweet, safe.

When you finally parted for the night, the clock was nearing midnight. “I gotta get back to my folks, hermosa,” he whispered. The two of you had been parked in your driveway for several minutes dancing around the goodbye.

“Let me walk you to your door.” He came around to open your door and help you step out, keeping his fingers laced with yours the whole short walk.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he reminded you, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I’m going to soak up every second,” you whispered. You pressed one final kiss to his lips before slipping into your house and up the stairs to your room. You stripped out of your dress and into a pair of his sweatpants that he had left you and a light tank top. After brushing your teeth and hair and scrubbing your face down, you crawled under your covers and held tight to your pillow, longing for his presence so fiercely. You began to doze off only to be awakened by your phone ringing. You flipped it open knowing the voice that would await you on the other end.

“I miss you,” he said quietly.

“I wish you had stayed,” you said, voice heavy with sleep.

“Is it okay if we stay on the phone?” he asked quietly and your heart melted.

“Of course baby,” you smiled reaching down for your charger to make sure your battery didn’t run out.

You both dozed off listening to the other’s even breath, it was enough to convince your mind that he was right there next to you. It was the most peacefully you had slept since the night he held you in his arms until the sun came up.

One day at a time, that’s how you were going to make it. A life with Frankie was one worth waiting for, and a life without him was one you weren’t convinced you could go on living.

Monday November 15, 2004

You startled to a knock on your door, the sky still dark out. You squinted at your clock to see it was only a little past 4 and your heart sank. You knew. Stepping out of bed to meet your mom, she was already halfway across the room to you. “He’s gone?” you whispered and she nodded, taking you into her arms.

Shortly after Frankie’s last visit, your dad’s condition worsened. The chemo wasn’t effective this time. He was transferred to a hospice facility at the beginning of the month. You knew it would be any day now. He wasn’t eating, he looked so tired. You and your mom spent as much time with him as possible, squeezing out every last moment you could get.

It was numbing at the same time as being excruciatingly painful, and you’ll never understand how grief can be so multi-faceted. You didn’t get much sleep the rest of the night. Your mind was in a daze. How could something you knew was coming still catch you off guard.

You didn’t get to talk to Frankie until later that evening. Most of your day was spent in bed. A few friends had checked in, enough to distract you for a few minutes at a time, but mostly, you just stared at the wall trying to fathom the emptiness you felt encroaching on every area of your life.

It was pretty late by the time you heard the Skype call ringing. Shuffling carefully with a blanket around your shoulders, you made your way to your computer and plopped into the squeaky office chair.

You forced a small smile at seeing his face. It was genuine, the first bit of sunshine in your day. “Fish is talking to his lady!” you heard a voice call out that you recognized as one of his roommates, Benny. “Guys hush,” he laughed turning to really focus on you after batting away the boy making kissy faces in the background. As soon as his eyes landed on you, he knew. “Oh no,” he started. And you nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “When?” he asked, brow furrowed, wishing desperately to reach through the screen and cradle your head in his hands. “Around 4 this morning,” you rasped out. “Oh sweetie,” he started, “Seriously Benny, knock it off,” he growled throwing his hat at the perpetrator who realized the serious nature of the call and let out an, “Oh shit, sorry man.” You laughed, just a little, but it was a laugh. You were glad he had made friends during the first leg of his training.

“When is the funeral?” he asked running his hands through his hair, short as it was at the moment.

“Saturday, but don’t worry, you’ll be here in a week,” you had started, but he cut you off, “Cut the crap hermosa, I’ll be there,” he said resolutely.p

There was a heavy pause, “Do you want to talk about any of it?”

You smiled and another tear slipped out, “Not tonight, Frankie, thank you though.”

“I’m really sorry I wasn’t there,” he said looking down.

“Don’t do that to yourself Frank, don’t start blaming yourself for things. You’ll be here soon enough, that’s all that matters to me.”

“I love you,” he said, voice barely a whisper.

“I love you honey,” you replied and the call ended.

You sighed and shuffled back to your bed. You ached so badly for a comforting embrace but your best friend was 1700 miles away and your boyfriend was even farther. You wrapped yourself in your blankets and stayed there for, well you’re not quite sure how long. You got up to pee every once in a while and sipped some of the water you had by your bed, but not much more than that.

The following afternoon, your house had been a revolving door of people coming to offer their condolences and fill your counter with casseroles and baked goods. You greeted the whirlwind of people beside your mom, not able to offer more than a few words at a time. By mid afternoon, the visits came to a lull and the house was silent again.

“Why don’t you go get some rest,” she said, stroking your cheek tenderly, “I’ve got it for a while.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah kiddo, go lay down. You look exhausted.”

“So do you,” you countered softly. She gave a small, sad smile in return. You went back upstairs and peeled off the sweater you had thrown on for company and pulled Frankie’s old football hoodie on in its place. You climbed back into your haven of pillows and stuffed animals staring out the window watching a few stray birds light on the lifeless branches. You envied how light they seemed. Floating from branch to branch barely causing the limbs to shake. Right now you just felt heavy. Crushed under the weight of loss and guilt and what ifs.

It wasn’t long before you heard another knock on the front door, no doubt another wave of mourners and gossipers. Hushed voices floated up the hallway for a few minutes before you heard footsteps quickly ascending the staircase. Within a few moments you heard a bag hit your floor, two shoes kick off and another figure was sliding into bed behind you. “Hey baby,” he murmured and every nerve in your body caught on fire. You rolled over to face him and he wrapped himself around you tightly. “I’m here, I’m here, I’ve got you,” he said softly into your hair pressing kisses to your head wherever his lips could reach. You let yourself break down finally. You’re not sure how long you cried, but when you pulled your face out of his chest, your head was pounding. “Sorry about your shirt,” you mumbled wiping your face on your hoodie sleeve.

“I could care less about my shirt, amor,” he whispered taking his thumb up to stroke your swollen cheek. “Let’s get you out of this room,” he said standing up. You reached for your water bottle to take a swig while he crossed over to your attached bathroom and started running a shower. “Get cleaned up, and then we’ll go eat some of the 800 pounds of food currently accumulating on your kitchen counter,” he smiled offering you a hand up. “I heard your stomach, don’t argue with me. Now go,” he said firmly but full of love.

After a hot shower and a hefty portion of your aunt’s mac and cheese, you were starting to feel a little more human. Thunder had started to rumble in the distance while you were drying your hair, and by the time you got downstairs, everything was caught in a thick November drizzle. The kind of cold that clings to your bones. The weather forecast showed heavy rain through the weekend. The irony wasn’t lost on you. Frankie flipped the channels until it landed on Gilmore Girls. It was the episode Paris had the meltdown during her speech about not getting into Harvard. You chuckled lightly, at the chaos in the episode and that he knew to pick this out of all the channels.

A few minutes in, your eyes began to get heavy, nodding off without realizing it. For all the time you had spent in your bed the past 48 hours, you hadn’t done much sleeping.

Your mom noticed the way you sank into his side, finding peace for the first time in God knows how long. “Take her upstairs,” she whispered placing a warm hand over Frankie’s where it was draped over the top of the couch.

He nodded, “I’ll head out after that,” reaching for the remote to switch off the tv.

“Stay,” she whispered, eyes floating between the two of you, “She needs you.”

His heart warmed at her admittance. He always felt that she was a bit wary of him. It’s hard to prove yourself to someone when you’re never there, but she had seen the way he cared for you and she knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Frankie shook your shoulder lightly, whispering in your ear, “Princesa, let’s get you to bed, sweetheart.” You grumbled and followed him up the stairs, bones heavy with sleep. You climbed into your bed settling on the side closest to the window, the thick comforter swallowing you up and preserving your slumber. You didn’t even notice the boy you loved quietly readying himself for bed. He fished a clean tee shirt and sleep pants out of his duffle bag and set his toothbrush on the counter next to yours when he had finished. Something about it felt so right. He flicked off the light to the bathroom and pulled the door shut climbing into bed behind you. He draped an arm over your side and you instinctively settled back against his chest. He couldn’t help but feel like he was getting a glimpse of his future. With the rain beating down on the window and the moon streaking in casting a white glow on your face, he took a mental picture and tucked it away deep in his heart, ready to call back on when his foundation would inevitably be shaken. This is what he was fighting for. This is what he was coming home to. He held tighter to his promise to always come back now than he ever had before.

Taglist: @littlenosoul @shinypants13 @mirasantidotes @certifiedhunter @daff0dilfs @bannahrae74 @rav3n-pascal22 @evitamarija @reiya-djarin

#frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #Pedro pascal fic #safe place to land #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter eleven

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters

july 31st, 2018 los angeles, california calum

Saying goodbye has never been my strong suit. I wish it would've gotten easier over time — with as many goodbyes as we've had to give, it should be easier. It's not.

I guess it's gotten easier with people who mean less. Friends, distant family. It's fine if we don't see each other too often, because the time we do spend together ends up feeling more valuable. I don't mind the few times we see each other each year having more weight than they used to, but with Orion, it's so, so different.

She's my absolute best friend. She's my unconditional, unwavering biggest fan. She's my voice of reason. She makes the good days even better and the bad days a bit less bad.

I had a life without Orion, before we met, but I never want to live a life without her again.

From the moment we woke up yesterday until now, both of us have been a lot more somber. We cling to each other as much as we can, needing to be as close as physics will allow. The only times we are apart are when one of us uses the bathroom.

I tossed and turned all night, my mind racing with thoughts. Why didn't I try harder to convince her to come with us? How often will we actually be able to talk? Between her classes, work-study, LSAT prep, press interviews, soundchecks, performances, traveling, sleeping, and time zones, how often will our lives line up?

I love touring. I really do, but I love Orion more than anything else in this entire world. I would do anything for her as soon as she asked.

I try to remind myself we’ll be back in time for the holidays and for O’s birthday, so while we’re missing time together, we aren’t missing any important days. Orion already has a Friendsgiving planned and I’m sure she’s got Secret Santa in the works too. I try to just think about the good parts of traveling and all of the fun things we’ll get to do when I get back. Emelia and I have already been trying to plan a trip for her and O to come join us on tour for their fall break, but we’ll see if that actually ends up being possible.

We’re not flying out until 3:00 this afternoon and don’t need to leave for the airport until 12:00, but I wake up at 6:00. I don’t wake Orion up until 8:30, but I spend my two and a half hours of silence in bed, holding her as close to me as I can without squeezing her so hard that she’d wake up. She looks so peaceful like this, her hair loosely cascading around her face, her skin makeup free, and her eyes closed, making it even more apparent that she has long, thick lashes. This is the last time I’ll wake up like this for a few months. I sneak a selfie of us, hoping to use it to remember how it feels to sleep next to O while we’re a million miles away.

To wake her up, I just start peppering kisses all over her face. First, her forehead. Then, her eyelids. Each cheek. Her jaw. Her temple. I wait for her eyes to sleepily blink open before I press my final kiss to her lips.

"Mornin', baby."

She smiles, sleepily gazing up at me. "Morning."

I could get lost in her eyes forever.

"Wanna get pastries and coffee?"

Her smile grows into a grin. "Yes, please."

—

After a morning of flaky croissants, weird lattes, and a long walk around the neighborhood, Orion and I took our last shower together for a while. We stood under the steamy stream of hot water, just holding each other in silence. I'm going to miss those moments.

Following the shower, I dress in an all black sweatsuit and slides. Orion pulls on the shirt I wore yesterday — "it smells like you" she explained — and a pair of sweat shorts, slipping her Birkenstocks on. We cuddle with Duke on the couch while we wait for the van that Matt sent to pick us up. I make sure to pet Duke a ton and give him a few treats so that his last interaction with me is a happy one.

The call that the driver is here comes far too quickly, and we buzz him up to let him get my bags. I don't make him carry all of them. He gets my two larger checked bags, and I grab my duffel bag, and Orion carries my backpack. I probably overpacked, but things seem to mysteriously disappear whenever we're on the road.

"Are you going on vacation?" Ron asks when we're clambering through the lobby with all my luggage.

"Cal's going on tour," Orion explains. Her sad expression hurts something in my chest.

Ron smiles. "Oh, wonderful! That's so exciting. Calum, I hope to hear about your journey when you return. Best of luck!"

I smile graciously and nod. "Sure thing, thanks Ron. Keep an eye on this one for me, will you?" I motion to Orion, who glares in response, and Ron agrees to make sure she's safe.

We throw my bags into the trunk of the black van, the driver opening the sliding door for Orion and me. I let her get in first, of course, and then climb in after her, closing the door behind me. We sit as close to each other as we can in the backseat, my arm wrapped around Orion's small frame, her head on my chest, my other hand intertwined with her hands while she traces over my tattooed initials.

She's already crying, and I have to look away so I don't follow suit.

The drive is silent; the driver doesn't even play a shitty top 40 station. All we listen to is the GPS navigation.

Our driver takes us to a special entrance at LAX where we don't have to mix with the public, and as we pull up, I see Michael and Crystal getting their things out of the van that brought them.

"Hey guys!" Michael cheers.

Of course, they're happy. They're not spending this tour apart and are going to get to travel the world together. They're looking forward to this whole thing, meanwhile I'm dreading it.

Okay, I suppose dreading it isn't quite how I'd describe it. I'm excited to tour and see fans all over the world and perform the music we just released. I am dreading being apart from the girl I love most.

Orion doesn't say anything, she just waves to him.

When Michael catches onto our mood, he frowns and runs over to us, wrapping us into a hug. "Don't be sad, guys! This tour isn't that long. We'll be back before you know it, O."

She sniffles and nods, pulling back from Michael. "I'm gonna miss you guys." Her teary eyes catch Mike's gaze and then I see something in him shift before he hugs her again. Orion keeps her hand in mine while she hugs him back.

"You're gonna make me cry too! It's gonna be fine, OK? We all love you and will miss you just as much as you miss us."

Once Orion manages to regain some of her composure, we head inside. Our bags have already disappeared, except for our backpacks and Crystal's tote bag. When we get in, Matt, Ashton, Luke, Sierra, and most of our crew are already in there, milling about.

"Great, you're here," Matt says while he walks up to us. "Let's go ahead and start going through security."

Again, we're in some separate part of LAX that the public doesn't have access to, but we do still have to go through TSA like everyone else, it's just a separate, far smaller one.

Unspokenly, everyone lets Orion and me go first so we can have as much time on the other side as we can together.

Once we've gone through security and have our shoes back on, I pull Orion off to a secluded corner and just hug her as tight as I can. I can feel her tears soaking my sweatshirt, and I try to console her by smoothing my hand over the back of her head. Her small hands clutch at the back of my sweatshirt, balling the material into her fists.

It takes a lot of effort for me not to cry.

Why is saying goodbye so hard?

I don't know how long we're standing there for. I'm just trying to be here with Orion for as long as I can.

"Boys, time to board," Matt calls.

Fuck. It's time.

"Say your goodbyes," he adds.

Even though he says boys, he's not talking to Mike or Ash or Luke. Crystal and Sierra are coming with us, and Kay is at the hospital with her grandma, and the rest of our crew wasn't allowed to bring guests into the airport at all. He's just talking to me.

Orion squeezes me closer to her as hard as she can, and I just keep smoothing her hair. It's so soft.

I take a few deep breaths, preparing to speak without my voice cracking. "I'll see you when I get back. I love you."

She sniffles, and I feel her back shake while she cries. It breaks my heart to be the cause of this pain. She doesn't deserve it. "I love you," she manages to say.

I pull back so I can look at her. Her face is red and puffy, tears shiny on her cheeks, and yet, she's still so beautiful. I could look at her forever. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen, even when you're crying," I tell her, meaning every single word. I wipe away her tears with my thumb.

She scrunches up her face and blushes, looking so cute while she does. Everything about her is just... perfect.

"Flattery isn't getting you anywhere today, babe," she starts. I pretend like she's wounded me. "I love you. Go, board. I'll be cheering you on every night."

Instead of replying, I lean down and kiss her again. How can I not kiss her every day? I lived a life without Orion before, and I never want to do that again. I want to kiss her every day for the rest of my life. I want to make her laugh every day. I want to love her every day. God, I can't imagine not loving this girl. How can anyone not fall in love with her?

"I love you so much. I'll call you when we land, okay?" I kiss her nose. We're going to Japan first, so it'll be quite a long travel time. I don't want her waiting around trying to time the call correctly, so I'll just plan on calling her the moment our wheels touch down in Tokyo.

"Did I mention I love you?" I ask. That makes her grin, and my heart hurts a little less.

"No, I don't think so," she teases.

"I did!" I pout.

Orion gently pushes my chest. "Go."

I sigh, nodding. "I'm gonna miss—"

I'm cut off when a hand grabs my shoulder and I feel a body behind me. "Cal, mate, we've really gotta go." It's Ashton. I hang my head and nod.

"It's not easy to say goodbye to the love of your life, dude!" I defend myself.

Ashton grins, but his eyes are sad, too. He must be thinking about how Kay isn't joining us yet, either. He gets how hard it is to leave. "She also literally just told you to go!"

"I'm gonna miss you too, babe," Orion chimes in. She kisses me again and then she steps several feet away from me, too quickly for me to try to catch her and pull her back. "Go!" She laughs.

I know she doesn't mean it negatively; she's just trying to let me do my job and what I love, but it hurts somewhat that she's telling me to go. I can't explain it. I sigh.

"Okay, fine, I'll go," I decide sadly.

Orion blows me a kiss as I walk backward toward the door, and I numbly leave, trying my hardest not to cry. Once I'm through the door, I let a few tears fall. I realize then that no one else has gotten the chance to say goodbye to Orion, so I'm the only one getting on the plane from our group.

The crew, Michael, Luke, Crystal, and Sierra join me soon, each offering me sympathetic glances.

"We're gonna have fun, mate," Michael says, throwing an arm around my shoulder. "Orion's a strong girl, she'll be fine without you."

I just nod, not saying anything.

I take my seat on the plane, watching the rest of our crew clamber past me. I wonder what's taking Ashton so long to board. I know he and Orion are close, but it's odd considering now we're just waiting for Ashton and Matt. I quickly send a text to Orion while we wait.

To: my love + stars i love love love you. i wish you could come with us, maybe next tour? you say the word and i'll fly you out wherever and whenever you want. i miss you already. xxx

When Ashton finally boards, his eyes are red and he's wiping away tears, too. He sits next to me, sniffling quietly.

"I'm gonna miss her," he admits.

I smile sadly. "Yeah, me too."

From: my love + stars i'll miss you far more i promise. love you the literal most ever. go take on the world.

“She loves you so much, man,” Ashton mutters.

I’m not sure where that came from, but I know emotions are at a high. “I love her so much.”

He nods. “I know.”

Once everyone is on the plane, they shut the door and we start taxiing. Ash gets out his headphones, signaling to me that we aren’t going to be talking on this flight, at least not now. I get mine out too, send Orion a few heart emojis, text my family that we’ve boarded our first flight of the tour, and then put it into airplane mode.

I check the time. It’s 2:32. Underneath the numbers, I stare at the picture of Orion and me from the other day when we got ice cream. She looks so pure, and happy, and the sun reflected in her eyes in a way that made them almost look lit up. I can’t wait to be back and see them in person again.

God, this is going to be a long tour.

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