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rimaiahwrites · 3 years

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Chapter six

Erik slowly pulled his arm from underneath Israel's head without waking her then pulled the covers up to her face, since he had it freezing in his loft.

He swung his Heavy leg over the edge of his bed and stepped on his hard wood stairs that laid up to his bed slowly so it wouldn't creek or crack. He slipped away from the comfort of his bed and made it out of his room without a sound. Even though the sounds of his bare feet slapping against the floor in the hallway was still heard, Israel didn't make a move.

He flicked the lights on in the kitchen, and snatched the refrigerator door open. He mostly had vegetables, fruit and water. It had been like that since He had started a healthy life style after he came back from the navy.

He grabbed his glass bottle of water and chugged it down. That early morning thrust was real. After he was done he refilled the bottle of water before putting it back in the fridge for his afternoon workout.

Erik went back into the living room and pulled his rug back to reveal his hardwood floors. He pulled one of the wooden boards up and reach up inside to grab his father's old leather Journal. It was slightly beaten up from the many years of his father using it but none the less it was still very beautiful.

his balcony doors blow open from the Wind and he pulled the cream white Curtains back and stepped out. The air was cool but not to cold.

It felt good against his skin. Over the few markings that he had on his torso- about 400 plus, all in rows around his torso. Some were still healing and sensitive.

Erik was actually still surprised that Israel's nosey ass hadn't spotted them on him yet. He knew that once she had, she will ask him a Thousand and one questions about them. And Erik wasn't really ready for that since he knew he couldn't tell her the real reason he marked himself, at least not yet.

He sat in the big chair that he had hanging to the top of his roof. It swayed from side to side when it was windy or when ever Erik sown it himself. It was soothing though. His balcony was one of the places he liked to meditate and clear his mind. He could look down below, and see businessmen in suits and looking for a taxi, and kids heading off to school with big backpack bouncing against them from running to the bus stop. It was regular city life for him.

He loved the city but hated the memories it came with. He had lost to much in it. First his mother then his father, and so many of his childhood friends had lost their lives to the city they called home. So many time had the city almost taken his life as well, from being beaten on the street by police officers, or being held at gun point at 15, by a local drug dealer that Erik had considered one of his niggas.

The city had done him so wrong but yet here he was, still living in Oakland. Just in a better spot then the apartment that he had spent ten years of his life in.

Erik sighed and sat back down and open his father book. He liked to reread it to keep him motivated and focused on his Destiny. The foreign words of his father language, that he had learned to read over the years, popped out against the old- now brownish- paper. Erik flipped to the page titled, the prince is here.

My son, my prince, my happiness have finally arrived. More Beautiful then I could ever imagine, dark brown eyes like his mother and a head full of thick black kinky hair like me.

The happiness that spread through my body the moment my eyes laid on him I knew I was in love. This was a different type of love, not like the kind of love you have for your mother or your wife it was a kind of love that only a mother or father could have for their child-

Erik read with tears beaming his eyes. Not letting them fall once. Erik slammed the book shut clenching it in his hands, as he leaned forward staring at it. It didn't make him sad, it made his angry. He was so angry at his father and it confused him so deeply since he knew his father had no control over what happened to him.

Maybe it wasn't anger towards his father, but pain that he turned into anger like he always did. And he was tired of it, the anger that had been building up inside him ever since he found his father dead, on his Apartment floor with panther Panther claw marks in his chest, that came from the man his father called brother.

That's where his real anger was towards, his family. Erik couldn't even call it anger, it was rage. He knew that once he met his uncle all hell was going to break loss. All the pain and rage he had inside of him was going to be released. As soon as he got to wrap his hands around T'chaka fat ass neck, and hear that satisfying crunk that came after he squeeze with all his might. And then his cousin t'challa, was next because he knew that once he killed T'chaka his son was going to go after him. But he was going to prepared.

Israel rolled over on the bed and look over the loft bed. Erik wasn't in the living room or kitchen. She had thought that maybe he had left, until she saw the balcony curtains blow up from the door being open. She smiled slightly and peeled the thick blankets back and headed down the stairs. The little cracking sounds the wooden stairs made as she tip-toed down sparked Erik's interest, he closed the opened book again, and sat it behind the pillow he had on his swinging chair.

He leaned back into the door frame and spotted Israel on the stairs with a grin on her face. "Hi." She whispered softly so her voice didn't sound raspy from not talking for hours at a time.

"You always wake up in a good mood?" He asked getting up from the balcony ground and walking up to her. She chuckled and shrugged. "When I get a good night of sleep, yeah." She said looking down at him into his eyes, that were still slightly red from earlier. Since she was about three stairs above him, She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned towards him. "Um...Thank you for last night, I had fun. It was the first time in a long time that I have felt like someone actually wanted to hang and spend time with me..." she admitted, looking down at his chest as she fiddled with his shirt. He rested his hands on her waist and squeezed lightly. "You don't have to thank me princess, I enjoy hanging wit' you." He spoke softly, brushing her face with his knuckles. Slightly pushing her face to the side.

Her gut felt bubbly with happiness, and her cheeks were starting to hurt with how hard she was smiling. And Erik only made it harder for her to stop from the way he was looking at her.

That look he gave her. The one were he would title his head like a puppy and lick his lips while keeping Direct eye contact.

The thigh clenching look if you will.

"You hungry?" He asked, picking her up and swinging her off the stairs to the bottom. "No not really, I don't like to eat breakfast that much because I'm never that hungry." She said sitting at the kitchen counter. His eyes raised and he turned to her.

"You gotta eat breakfast Israel, that's the most important meal of the day." She rolled her eyes because she had heard it so many time before from her mother. "I know I just don't like breakfast-"

"I'm making you breakfast, and you gon' eat it." Erik said turning around to the refrigerator to grab the stuff he needed.

And A word wasn't said as Erik handed Israel the plate of two prices of Turkey bacon one pancake, and a small glass of a mango kiwi and strawberry smoothie that he sweetened with orange juice.

He tried not to give her much but she still felt like it was to much food for right now. It he gave it to her at like 12 am in the afternoon she would most likely still be hungry afterwards.

She stared at the plate and then back at Erik, a pout on her lips. He nodded his head, as if telling her to go ahead and start eating. She sighed and grabbed a fork and began to eat, Erik as well. But his plate was stuffed. Three pancakes, three prices of bacon, and the rest of the plate was taken up by the four scrambled eggs. He was a big boy and needed all the food he could get.

"Is it good?" He asked, month full of food.

"Yeah, it's good even though your Force feeding me it." She chuckled taking another small bite. Erik gave her a close month smile, chewing his bacon aggressively.

"You'll get used to it, eventually your body will want to eat in the morning, anyway your parents call you yet?" She shook her head, taking a sip of her smoothie. "No, I don't know what's going on but hopefully my mother calls soon to fill me in and let me know they made it there safe." She said her thoughts wondering off a bit.

After they were done eating Erik decided he wanted to workout at his favorite boxing gym. So they both got dressed quickly, Israel just put on a white oversized t-shirt and a pair of gray leggings and her white nike sneakers, while Erik wore black baseball shorts a dark gray workout shirt and black running shoes.

Once Erik grabbed his bag they were at the door and headed to the gym.

Erik turned into the parking lot Of his boxing gym named the home of Apollo Creed. Israel raised her eyebrows but she went with it. Erik opened her door while he throwing his gym bag over his shoulder. "A boxing gym?" She questioned following him inside the cold building. There was about ten different sweating men hitting at punching bags or at their couch Gloved hands.

"Yes, that's what the sign says right?" He chuckled dropping his bag on the floor. She rolled her eyes at his slick reply and plopped Down on the bench near his gym bag, "you didn't tell me it was a boxing gym but k, smart ass." She mumbled, watching him watch her while he put on the thin black gloves that fighters put on before the actual boxing gloves. He was clearly not new at this because he wasn't paying much attention to his movements, he was staring at Israel. Something she had noticed he tends to do a lot. But they were even because she caught herself staring at him today more times then she'll like to amid.

"Come on," he smiled pulling her across the gym catching some of the busy men eyes, there was a couple of "damn Erik who dis?" And "this yo new girl?" Erik only grinned, winking at them. While Israel tried to hide herself behind him. Erik noticed and chuckled softly before hugging her to his side.

"You bout to get a couple of boxing lessons for free, by thee Erik Stevens." He sang playfully making her crack a smile. He turned around to look in the big box of gloves and found some pink ones from the little 15 year old girl that used to box here. They looked like they could fit. "Come here, gimme your hand." She slide both her hands in the glove and smiled at how cute they looked on her. "Tiny ass hands," Erik mumbled jokily making her roll her eyes and giggle. "Big ass hands...hulk smash face ass 'I'm Wreck-It' neck ass-" She shot back. he laughed loudly throwing his head back before telling her to "shut the hell up before I knock you out." She just rolled her eyes.

" Ok we're gonna start with a simple, 1,2." He explained taking jabs at the air, making his Biceps and man Titties bounce, In the form fitted workout shirt he changed into in the car. She copied the simple move but aiming at his hands this time. "Ok we gonna do that same move but with a duck added to it," he beamed, excited that she was catching on so soon. "Hit, hit, duck." She moved fast dodging his hand. "This is kinda fun but-" Israel began but was cut short by a high pitched voice and a light skin girl with long loss curls came walking to Erik.

"Erik?! Is that you?!? I haven't seen you in so long," she was so tall that she was almost Erik's height. Israel felt like a child standing next to them.

"This is my homegirl from back in the day, Erie." Israel smiled and waved shyly. "Aw is this your little sister?" Erie smiled sarcastically bending down a bit sticking her hand out for Israel to shake, Israel's smile dropped and things got awkward quickly when Israel didn't grab her hand and only stared at the girl.

"Um Nah this is a good friend of mine, but uh it was nice seeing you Erie." Erik chuckled while dismissing the girl trying to hold in his laughter.

"Oh...well I'll see you later I guess, you should Dm some Time so we can really catch up without..." She tailed off glancing at Israel before smirking at Erik and walking off, making sure to make her ass bounce with every step she took. Israel tore her eyes from her and rolled them. While Erik was busy starring at her ass Israel began to take her gloves off, using her teeth to undo the Velcro on her gloves. The tearing sound brought Erik's attention back to Israel. "What are you doing we still-"

"I'm not really feeling it anymore plus my arms are already getting tired." She huffed swinging her arms back and fourth trying to shake the 'soreness' out of them. Erik mumbled a "yeah already." knowing why she wasn't really feeling it anymore, he left her to sit on the ground while he went and found his trainer, RJ. Erik had been working with Him since he was 15, RJ was one of the only people that Erik felt like care for him when he was Foster care. RJ had found Erik fighting a boy a little older then him outside of a gas station and praised him for how good of a fight was and encouraged him to get into. Erik was definitely hesitant about it at first but RJ eventually convince Erik to do it especially since he was going to be training him for free. It was a way for Erik to blow off some steam with all the Pent up anger he had for the world, RJ was just happy to keep him off the streets. He knew the kid was A genius, he was too smart to end up in jail or dead.

It had been two hours since Erik had been training and two hours since Israel been sitting on the hard floor but she barely noticed the numbness in her butt and legs because she was to busy drooling over Erik's delicious body, it was shiny in sweat and his movements were Swift and fast. The faster he hit the punching bag the more his muscles jumped and bounced, Israel don't know how many she licked her lips or clinched her thighs together but she knew her lips were going to be raw and she would have to take a shower as soon as she got home, she didn't care though it was Worth it. She'll sit here all day and night if that meant she could watch him. She wasn't the only one enjoying this whole situation so was Erik. he knew she was watching his every move, she tried to act like she wasn't but she made it very obvious that she was checking him out, but he liked the attention. He liked how easily he can drawl women's attention without even trying. He had her eyes glued to him, not only hers but Erie's too. He caught her staring at him multiple times but instead of scaring away whenever he caught her she locked eyes with him, giving him very seductive look. Erik only chuckled at her Poor attempt and backed over to Israel to grab his ice cold water bottle. Her breath hitched as he reached over her, his hot body almost pressing against her. The scent of his sweat and actual body odor mix with his deodorant made her mouth water. She wanted so badly to reach up and touch his torso but held herself back, sparing herself the embarrassment of rejection. "Are you done?" "Yeah Come on someone wants to meet you before we leave," he said grabbing her hand to help her off the ground. The feeling in her legs started to come back finally as she made her way over to the punching bag. "Israel this my nigga RJ, we go way back." RJ smile brightly at the girl and extended his hand out to her. "Nice to meet you." She beamed at the handsome older man, holding his hand longer then she intended to. RJ didn't mind at all though. They both broke apart when Erik cleared his throat real obnoxiously eyeing the both of them like they stole something from him. "Nigga Y'all tryin' fuck later or what? The fuck." Erik hissed bluntly more so towards RJ, he was way to old to be looking at Israel any type way. He was in his early 40s and Israel was in her late teens, that shit didn't really sit right with Erik. Israel became tense and RJ just dismissed Erik's out burst rolling his eyes and punching him In the arm with the foam glove.

"Shut yo dumb ass up Erik, anyway it I was just trying to see what your name was and shit for later..." Erik's face scrunch up in discussed as he pulled Israel behind his back. "Nigga you old as dirt still trying to flirt with young girls....grow up." Erik chuckled grabbing his bag and Israel's hand pulling her behind him. "Ok and? I'm aging like fine wine, ain't that right baby girl?" He raised a eyebrow at Israel making her turn her face away to hide her smile from the both of them knowing that they'll probably just clown her. "More like milk, anyway I'll see yo old ass later." Erik dabbed him up and left making sure Israel was right behind him. He opened the door for her and she climbed in, putting her Seatbelt on without him having to tell her too this time. Erik got in next making the car bounce a little from how big he was. "Don't pay that old ass nigga no attention, he do that to all the girls that come in to the gym. He swear he's charming-"

"Welllllll......" Israel tailed off

"Woooooow....." was all Erik said before slumping down into his seat. "He fine." Israel laughed widely shrugged her shoulders. "Hell Nah He could be your dad or some shit he's like that old ass uncle at the cookout that get drunk before the party even start." Israel giggled wildly because she does really have a uncle that showed up to the family events already drunk. After their laughter died down things got quite. Like it always seemed to happen when they were by their selves. It wasn't necessarily a awkward Silent just a little uncomfortable, the type when you don't know what Else to say to keep the conversation going but Israel still enjoyed his company.

It was nice finally being around a man, it felt familiar to her. She was always only around boys and men growing up most of the time since she had no younger or older sister in the house, plus the girls that she did have In her family like her aunts and older female cousins were rude and bitchy for no reason so she stuck with just hanging around the boys. it was what she was used to and most comfortable with.

Erik's deep voice shook her out of her train of thought and now her eyes were staring into his trying to focus on what he was talking about. "Huh?" She said trying to process what he said. "I'm gonna drop you off at home."

She pouted and huffed out her breath before mumbling "I don't want to go home, why can't I just stay with you?" Erik chuckled dryly. "Because I got other shit to do Israel." The sternness in his voice jumped out and Israel was just about to let her bratty personality show but quickly caught herself.

She was really quite the rest of the ride this time, extremely quite. Erik only chuckled at her for being mad that she was going home instead of with him, but he didn't give a fuck. He had other shit to do like he said.

"So you not gon' talk?" She shrugged before turning on the radio. Erik turned it off. "Don't touch my radio, answer my question."

"What?" She asked as if she didn't hear him the first time round. "You wanna stay with me?" She nodded with puppy dog eyes. He almost melted. Almost.

"Mm." He hummed pulling up to her house. She pouted And huffed, annoyed with him playing with her. "Whatever." She snapped before grabbing her phone out of his lap and slamming his car door shut. She heard Erik's annoying laugh loud and clear as she stomped her way up the steps to her door. Erik's slowly pulled away making sure she got in safely and when she did he speed away.

Soon as he stopped at a red light he grabbed his phone and went to his new contact: Israel (with the pleading face emoji) since it described her best. His fingers work at the speed of light as he tried to send the text before the lights turn green.

Good night, princess. Imma see you soon so you don't gotta pout and shit alright? He sent and almost instantly she read it. The gray dots appeared and vanished then reappeared and then her rely popped on his screen. Ok :) it was simple but it made him smile.

He almost sent her a text back but decided to just leave it at that. She was happy and fine now so there was no need to reply back.

_________

Sorry about the weird spacing in some areas Tumblr be weird sometimes with that.

#black panther killmonger #erik killmonger #erik stevens fanfiction #erik stevens fic #erik x oc #black panther #killmonger x oc #killmonger fic #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger x reader #killmonger imagine

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hhjs · 4 years

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summary ➝ "I don't get it." You cock your head to the side and investigating the painting at your feet with an obstinate want to understand how it's supposed to depict love. "It just looks like they slapped on paint."

"Look here, dummy!" He slaps your pointer finger jokingly, grumbling under his breath. Taking your palm and slowly splaying out the digits. Traces the rough pads against its silky texture, a map to somewhere, a blend of blue and pink, silhouettes reaching out for each other when the world intends to tear them apart.

You sigh, contentedly and think this must be it; because never was love meant to be understood.

It was meant to be felt.

word count ➝ 16.6k words.

alternatively➝ university premise.

genre ➝ angst, romance??? comedy??? a smidge of drama??? idk

pairings➝ han jisung. x fem reader.

warnings ➝ recreational drinking, use of profanity, suggestive.

note➝ i suspect that i have a vague emotional attachment to this. Please note that it used to be a jeonghan fic originally but is now rewritten. i've been toying around with my writing style, idk if this has met what's expected :c but... this piece is a proper example of the idiots to lovers trope.

a huge thanks to @emhpathy for beta-reading.

also i felt indolent and didn’t edit. :(

loosely based on the Coldplay song in question, ‘A Message’.

After.

The air smells like seasalt. Like having a foamy blanket of waves draped over your face until you let go, slowly, let all the air leave your lungs.

In the distant rhythm of the rattling wind, you can barely hear the ring of childish laughter. It's an old bicycle Minho last rode when he was 13. Jisung's driving too fast. But you don't care, you don't care because you feel just so alive. You can feel your heart on your tongue. Under your fingertips. Inside your chest.

You can't believe it's true. Can't believe this is your life. Can't believe you're real.

The city is a haze of blue and yellow and red. Jisung slows down by the sidewalk, leaning into the wash of colours and it stains the side of his face a little. The breeze is caressing his hair. Patting stubborn gelled strands out. His shoulders rise and fall with every little movement, upwards and downwards. When he breathes in and when he breathes out. Everything seems to slow down. Every second feels like a minute. Every minute like an hour.

Then suddenly- and it surprises you a little - Jisung pauses, cranes his neck back to smile at you. It's lopsided, toothy. He looks so much younger. Suddenly, so utterly boyish. You commit the sight to memory, the sliver of his teeth, the glint in his eyes, the curl of his mouth -

You hope you never forget this.

Because this is how you know. This is how you've always known.

You wouldn't change anything. Even if you could go back.

Not for a second. Not when it hurt. Not when it was hard.

Not even once.

...

Bach's Toccata & Fugue in D Minor.

You're in your bedroom, you can hear the music in your head, the crescendos and diminuendos, the feather light piano, the strum of a guitar and the gargling of a trumpet, fingers buzzing with an intense desire to write it all down. But then the sound of an organ rips through the air, the curtains pull apart. Your bedroom floor gives away from under your feet. There is a stage, there is an audience impatiently staring up at you, watching you, measuring you and you don't know what to say.

So you run, run, run home.

You remember standing in front of your mum's bedroom. Knocking. When she lets you crawl back under the covers and she runs a caressing hand down your back, you say nothing. (There seems to be a gaping hole in your chest. And you don't understand it. Like something's missing.) . When she traces the shape of your jaw and says trouble sleeping? you say nothing. Then the rain pelts the windows, the curtains are pulled; suddenly it's so much darker, so much colder, you place a hand over your heart and then look up at her, up to her large, concerned eyes and say, "It hurts."

But it's okay. It's okay. You'll forget all about it by tomorrow morning. Because your mum smells like home, like the earth after it rains. It's okay because the world is less scary when you're a kid. When you don't understand.

Then you're on a train, it skids against its tracks and your hand hurts from holding onto the handle for too long. You hold your draft against your ribs.There are too many people. Shoulders. Heads. Standing. Sitting. Their lives are different. Even when they're together.

From here, you can make out a woman stroking her toddler's cheek, a teenager with a copy of A Tale Of Two Cities in hand, a tall man, with his head hung low. He is smiling down at his lover. His fingers splay against her throat. She is looking at him. They say nothing.

She stands on her toes and kisses him. And something inside you suddenly comes alive, an absence, tries to gnaw its way out of your ribcage. Tries to tell you I've never left.

The train finds itself in the belly of a tunnel. Outside, it's so much darker. So much colder. There's a blinking streetlight ahead. Yellow and lime green. It must have been raining. You don't know your stop.

All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players. This is a stage.

The passengers are impatiently staring up at you, watching you, measuring you and you don't know what to say. You can't run this time.

(You need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. This city. Something is missing. Something is wrong. You need to get away.)

Now you wait for a room. A door. A bed. And miss your mother with an intensity that's akin to taking a punch to the gut. You don't remember what the earth smells like anymore. Everything in the city is platform and concrete. And soot rising from tall chimneys.

Suddenly, you can't believe childhood is over.

Spurts of light found themselves against the hallway ceiling, you wondered how long you'd been thinking about that nightmare for it to take so much of your attention. A mic involuntarily roars to life, reminding you that you were still at the varsity and you had to find Jisung.

Which sounds easy, had it not been for your history with him. Avoiding him was getting progressively hard a task to maintain because you were in the same department, sharing minor courses that prompts you to think that nothing much had changed and you'd be lying if you said you mind. He is a stubborn page which keened on flipping over in the youthful chapters of your life, refusing to be left behind and some part of you is too scared to know what would happen if you had.

You sigh, looking at the clock nailed to one of the pale yellow pillars and then close your eyes to try to ease the tension in your shoulders. Breathing in. Breathing out. This morning, you put on a thin cotton dress but the humidity had somehow prompted it to appear somewhat translucent.

Summer brushes up against the back of your neck, you rub your eyes vigorously, placing your sweaty palms on them, dapples of light settled atop the lids. Coating the little twists of purplish veins pink and white, becoming brighter and brighter and brighter. Any minute now and you would muster up the courage to face him.

You push the field door open.

Football players for the born-again team are loitering about in the heavily populated room, expectants look on most of their faces. You begin to feel twice as much nervous than you did before.

See, the possibility of stuttering nonsensical sentences and potentially embarrassing yourself in front of Jisung and nameless strangers, again, wasn't the most thrilling idea for you but if you don't make the deadline this time on this group assignment, you'll fail your linguistics course, so it would be tough to bounce back from for the both of you.

The coach, who is a lanky man, with an alarmingly ruddy face and tufts of snow white hair spiralling out of his head, experienced a lot of difficulty blowing it away from his line of sight. With the door held back, pressing a curious looking opaque board to his chest, he scans the entirety of the team with an owlish stare, when he was satisfied with the number of persons attending, he stepped in.

"Game starts in 10 minutes." he pauses, allowing the candidates to settle in. A feet away from you, Changbin produces a series of garbled profanities before going back greedily guzzling down the rest of his gatorade.

Once the coach clears his throat, his beady eyes travelling from one curious face to another, flitting between each person, it finds you briefly then it darts curiously across the scenery behind you, as though an explanation for your presence is out there somewhere, waiting to be discovered.

You hold the assignment packet against your chest, feeling the weight of gel blue letters under the rough pad and then slowly fold it open.

Han jisung. You tell him, that's who I'm looking for.

It takes you awhile to navigate your gaze to the owner of the name amidst the maze of students huffing and puffing about schedules and missing lectures and deadlines, some shouldering their way out in bored frowns, some smiling excited smiles, rushing to grab a suitable seat. Like a blur of faces you catch on the subway and eventually forget, the little snippets of another person's life. Glimpses of them from car windows pressed together in traffic, just a few seconds before the light turns green. One minute you think you know them, put yourself in their shoes and imagine their life for them and the next, you go back to being strangers.

To you, Jisung's face is an unmistakable, unforgettable kind of face.

Taunting you from posters of his many swim team accomplishments, under which his name stood in big bold yellow letters, plastered on the noticeboards, on the walls where the paint was starting to crack. The search didn't prove to be very difficult even though he didn't stick out like a sore thumb without his signature bleached blonde hair.

A varsity jacket is discarded on his body. Under the blue and yellow fabric, Jisung's chest rises and falls with every breath, his lanky legs perched up on the bleachers. You wonder how he managed to doze off in the face of all this tension about getting clocked in face with a football.

Aside from by accident, you were positive he hadn't tried to speak to you ever since your previous, unspeakably embarrassing encounter.

That was a long time ago.

It was certain that had it not been for this assignment, things between you would remain that way. In spite of this, you've gathered, because people never stop fawning over this prominent character, that not much has changed since you were in school.

Jisung managed to secure an attention drawing position wherever he went and upperclassmen wanted to be his friend even though he mostly indulged only in his own company.

His head rests on folded arms, his foot is propped up on his knee, which he keeps shaking. Sunlight crawls up the expanse of his exposed cheek, allowing burnt orange to bathe half of his face, ribbons of liquid light tapering to smudges down the side of his jaw and disappearing.

Jisung has a boyish face, his eyes are big and kiddish, paired with a sharp nose and a convenient, small, pinkish mouth inherently pouted out to accentuate his puffy squirrel like cheeks but slimming down around his jaw. His raven hair falls in sleek, wet tufts clinging to his forehead and grazing his rosy cheeks, giving him a strange resemblance to a cherub loitering around in the real world.

Come to think of it, Jisung looks, like he invariably does, just slightly out of place.

You drop your bag on the grass. The action makes an unexpected thump. His eyes stir faster behind closed eyelids, as though he were stirring awake from an ardently produced dream, like a newborn baby, divorced from the worries of the world. Jisung opens one of his eyes, then another, glaring confusedly, his lips pursed in unspoken surprise.

What's the big deal, right? At best, he'll start cooperating with you. At worst, you imagine, he'll toss you across the field for disrupting his sleep.

Of course, no one in their right minds would opt for the latter option, the rational part of you reasons - but you show him the packet, just for safety measures.

"I thought we ought to go over how we're going to work around this assignment and you weren't in class so..." You explain. When Jisung just blinks up at you in a curious fashion, you consider that he might not recognise you at all, that, for some reason, bothers you. "You probably don't remember me I-"

"I remember." He interjects firmly, acknowledging you with a fluent utterance of your name that gives you enough evidence of his claim, followed by a watchful, stoic gaze, he motions for you to take a seat beside him.

You hesitantly sit at the end of the row, keeping a calculated distance between your bodies. You find that even after all this time looking him in the eye was just as unnerving as it had been the first time they shyly flickered back to yours from across a thick spined A levels Calculus textbook. There's still an intimidating air about him, something that seeks to be constantly impressed without asking to.

Jisung sits up straighter, setting both his legs on either side of the bench, he keeps his gaze trained on your face, not looking away once. "Go on." He suggests, his voice low, "What do we have to do?"

You perk up at this, taking the contents out of the packet. Setting them down before you, you reiterate the instructions rendered in class, trying to include every important detail which contributes to the making of the project.

"We have to attach a PowerPoint part too." You paused, "Let's do that bit today."

Jisung listens intently, never cutting you off, he nods occasionally, making suggestions when you were trying to look for suitable loops in your schedules to work on the scheme, you recommended several premises, ranging from cafés to parks to libraries to food courts, even your place because it's the closest from Jisung's flat and he refuses go beyond the distance on a Sunday morning. You casually let in the fact that your flatmate would be there in order to insinuate that you hadn't made the offer because of your previous feelings for him.

You sigh, taking a minute to stretch back and take a deep breath. The bench is cool under your thighs, soft caresses of a warm summer breeze brushing the hair from your face away, pale yellow pours from the canopies, staining the grass, football players prepping in the distance, their zealous partners egging them on with excited smiles, shouting encouragements from the other end of the court. You imagine lying down on the grass, spreading your arms out and not having a care about anything.

"You still wear that bracelet."

"What?" You yawn, brows furrowed in confusion. You look at him from the corner of your eyes, finding that his brown orbs motion to the source of comment, they dart from your cheek to your wrist, where surely the platinum accessory is tied to its loosest hoop, it used to be your go-to add-on in school.

Surprised, you touch the item briefly, before retracting your hand slowly. All you can think is he remembers, he really remembers, "...Yeah."

...

Instead of running about playgrounds with a mouthful of kiddish laughter and building cartoonishly architectured sandcastles, you remember spending most of your childhood with your nose dug deep inside a fairytale, splurging much time on committing the glide of milky pages to memory, eyes widening, face twisting with each vicissitudes of emotions that would come over you with each stage of exploring a story. It was your own little world, a catharsis for all that you were holding inside, a window you could crack open and when the real world felt stuffy.

Fancying Jisung was, your younger self imagined, fantastical, like something out of those fairytales.

You don't know when you started liking him, maybe it was the first time you saw him. It was your last year in school and Jisung's unfamiliar face was a new sight against the fuzzy background of sleepy students pouring into the hallway, it was the kind that demanded to be noticed, even though he simply looked bored with an enormous pair of headphones looped around his thin neck.

Jisung was born to go through life being the embodiment of an all rounder, now that you think about it, there's not a thing he wasn't good at, always having a proclivity to outshine others.

He was a transfer student with stellar grades in spite of mostly routing his interest towards composing obscure music you'd found floating about the net. In all honesty, he truly was the master of all trades and the jack of none and every room was a keeper of attention, enveloped in an intangible but unanimous, wordless veil of interest towards the new character.

But maybe it wasn't as theatrical as you remembered; maybe it was the love at first sight nonsense, maybe it wasn't something you realised overnight, out of the blue, maybe it all happened at a slow, infuriating pace, maybe you started liking him for the small, stupid and unimportant things, like when you dropped your pen, the thin stick rolling away between your desks and he picked it up, flicking it between his fingers curiously, carefully curling his fingers around the metal, observing it before putting it back on your desk, maybe it was in class, when he zoned out in class, not bothering to look apart until he realised it had caught your attention, he then blinked away, the rosy hue of his cheeks more prominent with each passing second, maybe it was when you were sure you were about to flunk the history pop quiz and Jisung whispered the names of warriors and poets and the fallen while keeping his gaze firmly poised on his paper.

You were so shy, cloistered, intensely egregious and he kept seeking you out in some new manner, causing you to be an element of mild interest not only amongst your peers but also people who actively seeked his romantic interest. Although, conversations on your part never stretched beyond differentiation and stealing cautious glances at one another, (which wasn't a shocker because you didn't know how to compute a chat with him and Jisung was unusually timid for someone who acquainted himself with well known rambunctious personalities), you genuinely enjoyed his company.

So you obliged. Even though it was utterly improper and you were sure he liked someone on the cheer squad. It was just that you were a kid and you wanted to wear your heart on your sleeve just once before tucking it away forever.

He poked his head out from the water, wordlessly upon hearing his name, looking at you with a cocked brow and you were quick to say it, like you had to before you ended up changing your mind, it took a lot of courage to mutter a simple confession after all, in spite of the fact you didn't at all picture him reciprocating, whisking you off of your feet with a wide grin, in a grand affirmation of all the rubbish pop culture has spoon fed you.

It was a stereotypical teeth rotting, sweet crush that bound you to want to be around Jisung in a way he didn't, something lodged deep inside of you, the same thing that was childish and clung onto its fairy tales for dear life, hoped that he would share the same feelings, in spite of knowing it was undoubtedly unrequited.

Jisung had an indecipherable look on his face, he parted his mouth to say something but paused as if looking for the right words. He simply settled with a sigh, before lowering his body down into the pool. You replayed the scene over and over again for the rest of senior year, until it drove you to a point of absolute insanity. You even considered googling what a sigh was supposed to convey, if fishing through dictionaries wasn't going to tell.

That was notably the last time you spoke in school.

But your strained relationship stayed with you like an embarrassing tattoo and in trying desperately to conceal it, afraid someone would see too much, know too much, you would only make it more apparent.

You had to push him away to the farthest corner of your mind so you didn't have to wonder anymore, didn't have to interpret every action like your life depended on it - because love to you was so immense that it was overwhelming. You've wanted love to rescue you in some way, looked for it in the soft murmur of pages, in the chilling words to a song you can't seem to forget, you've waited for love like an impatient eagle anticipating its opportunity to leap in and swoop up its shot at satisfying its undying hunger. You needed to uproot those budding feelings before they took abode inside your chest, grew stronger, into something massive, unignorable, something like love.

Avoiding Jisung in hallways, in class and really everywhere was some form of a habit you were developing - but that didn't stop him from entangling himself with your ponderings; you thought of all the things he did without paying much attention to the act, like his petulant whining when he wanted something he wasn't getting, you thought of the way he tapped his pen against the wooden desk, silently eyeing chalky math problems on the board before uttering the answer with an ease only he could carry, you thought of his petulant front during arguments and how he always ended up winning, you just missed being around him without the added tension - which was funny because you're the one to blame for it.

To your knowledge, Jisung didn't know to speak in puzzles, even when he didn't want to say something, he always found an agreeable way to deliver it, often unknowingly wording them as they were, he didn't understand the complexities with which people conversed, needing everything to be black and white, as clear as the summer sky, so everyday felt like he owed you an example of his unintentional transparency, a explanation even though you knew he didn't.

Maybe that's it, you thought, maybe that's all.

(Sometimes you would sense his gaze searing into the side of your face, as if he was on the verge of uttering a greeting.

But graduation came along. And you never heard anything from him.)

You began to understand that all those tear jerking, unhappy endings were inevitable, like not being able to take your eyes off the stage during Giacomo Puccini's Sono Andati, like being exposed to Mimi's excruciating death, losing something you can't put a finger on - and suddenly, the plays, the window, the catharsis wasn't enough, the child in you wanted to scream and kick and throw, the child in you wanted to forge her own ending, the one that made sense, the one you could anticipate.

Running his palms along the cool glass, Jisung pauses from time to time to look at you, as if expecting you to address the elephant in the room, the same elephant that followed you all the way from campus, to his car, to the café downtown. It wasn't until the waiter went away in the pursuit of getting your order did he pose the inquiry.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You shake your head slowly, a nervous laugh escaping your lips.

"What's there to talk about? It was a long time ago and I'm over it."

Saying it out loud like this feels weird, it feels so real and disappointing and embarrassing, you feel reduced to a child coming clean about that one time they tipped over a vase and dusted the debris under the rug he is about to step about on, hoping he wouldn't notice.

The statement makes you feel guilty, like you're lying. You don't want to know if you really are.

"Well, does that mean we can be friends?" Mutters Jisung against the opening of his straw, sipping miserly as though not wanting to finish the rest of his Americano. He opens his mouth to say something but stops, looking blatantly confused, like that was the only explanation he had for your fallout. "I don't understand."

Not having thought that far, you stop typing, the click clack of keys muting, Jisung's thick rimmed glasses rest atop the jut of his nose and he's peering over them to look right at you with big wide eyes, genuinely interested in being supplied an answer. The sixteen year old you would be overwhelmed with bouts of fluster right now. But you stopped being that person a long time ago, in fact, that person is to you a bleary recollection of a mere stranger who you thought you saw somewhere but couldn't put a finger on the location.

Shrugging, unsure, the question comes after a lengthy pause, "I guess it does?"

You sit in temporary silence after the short conversation ends, never going off topic again and giving into irrelevant chats even though Jisung is actively trying to initiate conversation about things which had nothing to do with work. You wonder why, wordlessly admitting that it was getting harder to resist the urge to talk to him with every passing second.

His car was parked a few lanes away from the café so you were obliged to walk after getting through the first portion of the assignment.

"So." Jisung starts, biting the side of his cheek, "What have you been upto lately?"

Talking to Jisung isn't as difficult as your younger self made it to be, he could hold a conversation well, jumping from serious topics to lighter ones to keep the balance, making witty comments here and there that had you laughing without really meaning to and every time, you'd catch a look of satisfaction glinting in his eyes.

The pair of you walk by an ice-cream parlour where a short bald man with a perpetually happy face is handing out samples. A mint green board is attached to the appendage of a stall, outstretching from the original store, it says La Petite Glacière.

You raise your brows, literal nomenclature.

"Journalism could suit you." The comment is off-handed, a product of you thinking out loud, imagining Jisung running around with a recorder, with his big, friendly eyes, queries posed with an an easy jovial attitude; it's so befitting, you just couldn't help but notify him. Even if it was an involuntary notification. You left out the part where you always pegged his love for composing would eventually materialise instead, this was unexpected to say the least. But Jisung described music as a getaway, something he was willing to do out of passion and not duty.

It was to his credit that he didn't laugh in your face when you said you wanted to be a playwright, specialising solely in the field of fiction. That's one thing he doesn't have in common with your parents. (Who didn't hesitate to point out that it was an obsolete branch of writing.)

"Yeah?" Jisung grins archly, glancing at you, as insinuating the memory of you playing Iago when you were expecting to land Desdemona is still impressed on him. "I could say the same for you."

You only wave him off, rolling your eyes. Some things are better left forgotten.

It's hot and you're really thirsty. You're knee deep in lengthy conversations engineered to catch up with one another, which consisted of ping-ponging inquiries about everything and anything, like how it was moving away from your family and new hobbies and pet peeves and casual strolls down memory lane but then the tension would settle and you would grow awfully quiet, like you're doing something you aren't supposed to, like you're walking into the inviting mouth a ginormous tiger whilst convincing yourself that it won't gobble you up.

"Okay. I have one." you start, he's nodding in encouragement, "Have you been dating a lot?"

Jisung laughs at your obvious curiosity, wiping his sweaty forehead with a spare napkin, strolling really fast, long legs promoting his speedy gait, you have to jog from time to time to keep up.

"Why?"

He tilts his head to you, the teasing spark in his eyes glinting knowingly, he becomes shorter and grows taller walking up and down the slopes of the bumpy road.

Your eyes widen. You were curious! You haven't spoken to him for a long time and you're just catching up. Exactly, you tell yourself, that's believable, that, you think, makes sense. The other explanation, the one you're deigning to not look in the eye, that a part of you would be disappointed if he had said yes doesn't.

You flounder for a response, something, just a word or even an awkward noise, anything to formulate a proper retort. When that proves to be delayed and difficult, heat begins to pool into your cheeks, shooting up to the back of your ears and budding under the skin of your neck.

"Just asking."

He hums, ghosting his fingers along the small of your back, careful not to touch you as he shoulders his way to your side without bumping you off of your feet, the gesture prompts something inside your gut to twist and twist and twist. "Well...yeah, but it's never been serious."

You're waiting for the red light so you can cross the road to the parking area. Jisung is towering over a sea of the heads, he's not much taller than the average person, hands tucked in his pockets. The wind is messing his hair up to the side, he keeps running his fingers through the stubborn strand to get it to sit right but when the endeavour proves to be futile so he just scoffs, as if berating the strand whilst stubbornly repeating the action.

Looking at him like this, you imagine falling in love with Jisung is easy. Like gliding a hot knife through butter. It must feel just right, even if it doesn't last long, like holding fire in between your palms and pretending you own it, feeling the warmth kissing your skin before it nips and burns, like speeding across comets, stars and the moon, waging wars in the name of romance and producing litanies about love and then - finally, inevitably, unwillingly - letting go, like you always knew you would.

You imagine the aged memories of blurry faces behind cobwebs of raindrops and curtains of mist, the faces of people who he could've loved but hadn't.

And it scares you for some unknown reason.

There's something inexplicably lovable about Jisung, his babyish features have always possessed the tendency to catch you off guard, even though you've known him for a long time; it's gobsmacking and too winning to be real, like something out of a dream, the milky planes of an acrylic face. The smooth buttery texture of his skin, the subtle, narrow jut of his nose, the pouted shape of his mouth and pearly teeth. You think he doesn't know this, doesn't see himself the way you do even when he pretends to be confident with his boastful jokes, they are just jokes after all. Only further evidence of how he doesn't want to believe any compliment rendered his way.

"What about you?" He poses, looking over from the hood of his car while unlocking it from the driver side, "Dating anyone?"

The truth is, you've tried the atrocities of blind dating and online dating and casual dating but they all have been deficient and you're too tired to go through the never ending cycle of being on disappointing dates again: your expectations are too high, some might even say, for the way you seek familiarity with absolute strangers; you're stubborn, awkward and sometimes, simply unapproachable, but for the sake of not deflating your ego, you decide that Jisung doesn't need to know this.

You shake your head, failing to understand why Jisung is grinning through the cracked window, whilst you're pulling the door open and plopping down on the passenger seat.

"Why are you smiling?" You furrow your brows, watching as the lopsided grin grows bigger.

"Because." He shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets.

"Because?" You look at him expectantly, but he just looks back at you without expanding the brief explanation. You're so close that you can make out the thin layer of mist collecting on his eyelashes, his arched cupid's bow, his eyes have so much brown in them. You'd liken the colour to that of a muddy lake, like the bare earth, they catch sunlight and turn golden, just for a second, for just one second, it looks like what magic must be like. Realising that you have been staring at him for quite long, you tear your abashed gaze away. Piloting it to shift from the buskers to the other cars, buses, pedestrians, traffic lights, looking for a sight distracting enough.

"I'm not telling you!" Jisung mocks your tone like a child with a violent shake of his head, putting his keys in ignition. The engine roars to life, wheezing like a kettle. Why he drives a Comet Convertible when he could've gotten any other alternative is a wonder; not that you mind, you like it, it’s like sitting inside a giant jewelry box, the inside is smooth red leather, velvety smooth black paint on the outside.

"Why not?" You frown.

Jisung rolls the steering wheel with one hand, keeping his eyes trained to the approaching traffic while turning lanes, he giggles, "Because."

...

You'll have to admit that it's quite... challenging coming to terms with being friends with Jisung. Not because he's practically everywhere but just since Jisung tends to demand your attention when he realises he's not getting it.

When you try to dodge him on mornings after he cheats at UNO, scurrying away behind swathes of sleep deprived university students, hoping you don't catch his eye, he calls your name in that loud, clear and intentional way that he does, dragging a heavy arm around your shoulder to squeeze it against the back of your neck before tousling your hair or some other action to effectively ruin your get up. When you zone out in class, musing absently about something that has nothing to do with scale efficiency and accidentally catch his gaze, he winks at you, snapping you right back into attention.

Your friendship is, to say the least, interesting, for everyone around you. It's like everyone is always on the edge of their seats, waiting for a chance to poke fun at your apparent chemistry. It means nothing, you're just friends, you remind yourself over and over again, defensively, succumbing to the urge to grow closer and closer to him without paying mind to the annoying voice in your head.

Jisung texts you in the middle of the night, when he's parked out front, to meet him for a midnight drive out that you're sure no one knows about and you tell yourself you're getting away with it - only to be confronted by a smirking Sunwoo in the morning, likening the situation to a teenager caught red handed sneaking in through the window after a clandestine night of partying.

But you're not spared the teasing even out in the open. Though while you squirm awkwardly, sink into your seat and refute offendedly, Jisung doesn't have a lick of such knowledge or care, he easily slumps against you, resting his head on your shoulder in class and dozing off, indifferent to the multiple pairs of eyes zeroing in on you.

Even though the bartenders smile their coquettish smiles, offering drinks on the house and people laughed a little more than necessary, twirling their hair around their fingers at anything and everything he said, thence offering proper chances to ditch you completely, he remains close to you at pubs, putting his long fingers on your shoulders and resting his chin on your head, shooting some creepy guy who just wouldn't stop insisting on buying you a drink a look that said he wouldn't mind taking a stronger stance, had the creep not backed off. It was what anyone would have done, you tell yourself, ignoring the underlying pang of a gut feeling that begged to differ.

You envy the obvious charm Jisung holds over everyone, easing his way out of the jokes to do whatever he wants, you wonder what he would do if someone asked him if you were just friends, if he would dismiss them with a wave or provide a positive response, if it would hurt, if it would matter.

"Hey!"

You jump at the tone. It's breezy, light and followed by a scoff at the end, you recognise it, sighing once the initial surprise oozes out of you to be replaced with familiarity, Renjun is halfway through a complaint about acrylic paint, his mouth half open while his eyes travel over your head, where you're certain the owner of the voice is jogging up to the pair of you.

"I'll er...catch you later." Renjun purses his lips, while you turn your gaze back to Jisung, he's coming from practice, so his hair is wet, cheeks flushed red, he looks younger like this, completely barefaced. He's wearing a plain white t-shirt and light wash jeans, even in such an ordinary attire, a few bypassers' attention latch solely onto him.

The sun has long laid on a cotton soft sheet of clouds, letting a blue evening straighten its back against the dark firmament, the crowd at campus is reducing dramatically, you were walking to the metro, deciding to rest by the park bench as he mimics the pose, sliding from the opposite end when you try to keep a distance.

Jisung nudges you with his shoulder. "We’re having a party at our new place. You should come."

It wasn't willingness that took you to loud premises. You aren't exactly a party animal, far from it, maybe an animal that blends into the background, wordlessly observing masses of sweaty people who will wake up with horrible hangovers the next morning, wishing the night before had never happened. If such an animal exists.

But you're genuinely curious about meeting Minho, who seems to have assumed the position of one of Jisung's best friends while you were absent from his life. You found yourself wondering if he was different from Bang Chan, who in spite of being the former's friend, is someone you could deem yourself more similar to than he is to Jisung; shaking your heads and groaning into your palms, Chan would pinch the bridge of his nose and cautiously glance at you as though to convey You get me, right? while Jisung showered the karaoke bar manager with grandiloquent blandishments into giving extra minutes for a lower price.

Despite this, it is the undeniable but sheer adoration for your fun-loving mutual friend that binds you two together the best, the shared looks of appreciation when Jisung scolds you for neglecting your health, when he surprisingly remembers a minor detail about you or when he indulges in appreciative chats about crayon drawings with loquacious kids who would come running to display their paintings when you were looking to take an indolent walk in the local park, he would listen attentively, moving to a sitting position, nodding his head like he understood what the kiddish gibberish meant; one thing is certain - there was certainly more to Jisung than people pegged and if anything, those undiscovered traits only made him more endearing.

"Okay….but make sure we don't end up playing strip poker or something." You shudder at that thought, grimacing exaggeratedly to make your point.

"Why?" He raises his brows, a small simper playing on his lips to give away that he was only teasing you, "I like that game."

But under all that banter, it was well received that Jisung would never put you to the obligation of doing anything you're not comfortable with, so you just play along, narrowing your eyes, "That's because you're a pervert." You say, stifling a laugh whilst his grin dissolves to drop to a blank face.

Jisung glares at you, nudging you with his knee, effectively putting you on the verge of falling.

"Hey!" You scoff, repeating the action but Jisung doesn't roll across the grass like you wanted, he doesn't even budge. Instead, he laughs at your frustration, shaking his head and glancing back at you with an entertained look in his eyes.

(Something inside your chest is growing, like an epiphany, its vines pushing up against your lungs, your heart, its thornes prickling, injuring the flesh, something that tells you this is so much more to you than you'd admit, you press it down, ignore it; just a little longer, you think, just a little longer before you start to see this for what it is. )

"Why are you staring at me?" Jisung questions, you can't help but notice how he tilts his head, moving his curious face closer to yours, inspecting, like just before he makes his final move and mutters Checkmate but he doesn't actually know what he's doing, doesn't realise the weight of his actions. "Do I have something on my face?" He tilts his cheek to you, as though offering you to examine it and then, immediately his mouth lowers down to form a deep set frown. Is he really that goddamned clueless? Doesn't this affect him at all?

"No." You clear your throat and lean back, moving your weight on your palms, "It's getting late. We should get going."

...

The earliest memory you have is from when you were five, your parents had taken you to the beach and that day, while the sun shone brightly and the sand was warm, like home under your feet, with big curious eyes, you gazed off into the brilliant blue water.

It was just so beautiful.

And you so badly, wanted to wade into the welcoming foamy arms of the sea. If only the immensity of the water hadn't scared you as much as it did, you thought. It was like a blue giant that was reaching to steal the sun off of the sky and if you dared to test the waters, the liquid Goliath could whisk you right off of your tiny feet and drag you into its mouth.

That, you think, is what you're really afraid of, that deep down inside , you never really stopped holding back. That you'll never muster up the courage to do anything you really want.

In the midst of the chaos of an alcohol induced party, your head feels like it's about to explode.

It stopped raining. And you haven't had the luxury of running into Jisung ever since he went off to get a drink for himself.

The windows are open. Though there's not a flutter of a cool breeze or anything. But there are assortments of crisps, juices and other suspicious looking snacks. The cool curve of the stair railing pressing up against your side. It's unspeakably loud. The frat house, as typical as it sounds, welcomes an obnoxiously large crowd, it isn't surprising, considering people here have a reputation for social adeptness, the house being big enough to capacitate a crowd twice as big as its guests is just a plus point.

Once the majority of the crowd had long thinned out to participate in a curious sounding game of beer pong, the aftermath is that everything smells like sweat, vomit or both. You're tipsy, tired and alone. It's been an hour since you arrived. Your patience is wearing thin.

You down the remainder of the watered down scotch, even though the liquid could secure a horrible case of nausea if you couldn't hold your liquor well tonight.

In the mess of too many heads, too many hands and too many bodies, pushing, pulling, dancing and kissing with shocking hostility, suddenly, the view starts to shift, from left to right, from upwards and downwards, like you're on a rollercoaster but without the lap bar. It's certainly a symptom of the splitting migraine you're sporting. It's too loud downstairs for you to summon anyone and besides, the search for a familiar face seems futile.

You fish out your phone, wondering if you should send Jisung a text, squinting at the glaring blue screen but decide against it - hoping to God that you don't walk in on anyone shagging while looking for one of the rooms to crash in.

Now, that...would put them in an awkward position. You mentally high five yourself for the joke.

Though the amusement is mostly transient, soon replaced by a rapid jerk of pain. Wincing in an attempt to stand with little control over balance, you try to ease the pain from your briefly twisted foot.

When you've made it to your desired destination, an inconspicuous looking room at the end of the long hall, you kick off the death traps for heels off of your feet and all but fling yourself on the mattress.

Stacks of comics are carefully placed on the top most shelf of the bookshelf pushed against the wall, their polished spines sticking out.

The rest are overflowing with vinyls, set in alphabetical order. You can tell because each row has a tag taped over its head.

Everything is surprisingly clean, the walls are crisp white, there's a single black wall on which a large painting sits. A night light glows dimly, perched up on the bedside table. Whoever's bedroom this is, has the blandest taste in interior design. Or a lack of it since they moved in not long ago as Jisung informed.

You stare owlishly at the blue ceiling, following the undulating spines of bricks, stacked in. Upwards and downwards. Like a map. Like a staircase to nowhere. Then you close your eyes.

Imagining that you're staring up at the sky at dawn, when it's a swirl of milk tea. Golden. Buttery white. Autumnal Yellow. And pumpkin spice. Brown curls against the background of a milky white firmament and if one bothered to look closer, they'd catch stars peeking from behind slowly darkening clouds, waiting to come out.

When you were a child, you liked to stick a curious index into filled tea cups, as if to study the khaki liquid , not quite grasping the connoisseurship of hot beverages just yet. The experience would always end with a mouthful of biscuits and your grandmum's tickles engendering your stomach to ache a good kind of ache.

Now, the memory prompts you to raise a finger to the air, as if you were dipping your digits into the whirlpool of maroon. For a moment, you feel as if you're still that little girl stuck in someone else's body, like you hadn't grown up at all.

But in the hurtful manner that reality often made itself known, yanking you right back from your dreams, the door creaks noisily and then closes.

Out of the corner of your eye, the character looks more like a funny sketch on a chalkboard than he does a person. All blurry and messy. Like someone tried to rub him out.

The flash of light radiating from his phone, a sliver of neon, silver, you recognise his face, you've seen the same expression right before he's about to choose between his favourite ice cream flavour; eyebrows knitted in concentration, lips pursed, emerging from the shadows. He's typing really fast. You blink, adjusting your vision. The unobstructed sight of his face broadens. "Jisung?"

He looks at you, positioning his phone towards your face to get a good in the barely there light.

"Yeah?"

You furrow your brows in confusion, "What are you doing here?"

"That's a good question." He snorts. "Indeed, what business might I have in my room?"

You jump, sitting straighter, then stand up. Just in case he thinks you're a fucking creep. He probably doesn't even want to be friends with you anymore and you understand, you wouldn't want to be friends with you either. "I...I didn't know."

Jisung laughs loudly at your fluster, rolling his eyes, he plops down, the mattress dipping under his weight, groaning noisily. He pats the spot beside him. "Relax..."

You wear a doubtful look, under the impression that he'd break into a laughing fit with a quip about you caving in so easily. You narrow your eyes even though you're quite tempted to take his offer.

He tuts, yanking you by the arm so you sink down beside him.

"I just saw you coming upstairs, wanted to make sure some asshole wasn't picking on you." He explains, his face contorting to momentary peevishness just at the fleeting thought.

A crappy pop song is buzzing in the background, you can hear it, you can smell the salted popcorn in the air. His fringe is brushed forward, cheeks smoothed over, moisturised, in this intimidating proximity, you pick up that Jisung always smells really good. Like aftershave and something strong, woody, earthy — but just the right amount, not overpowering.

"Have you considered trying something more...erm... colourful?" You scan his room, deciding to change the subject, attempting to dodge the heavy feeling of fluster in your chest; you guess it was showing on your face because the corners of Jisung's mouth begin to quirk upwards. If there’s anyone more awkward than Jisung, it /s definitely you. "This isn't really you."

With his mouth lopsided, his nose scrunching upwards, his teeth showing, his eyes turning to crescents, Jisung chuckles, as if perceiving your attempt to digress but choosing to let it slide.

"Then what is?" He raises a brow.

"I don't know." You pause, trying to picture a suitable tint, "Something bright."

Someone starts blasting Ed Sheeran outside, putting the volume all the way. It creates a proper distraction from the conversation to go beyond simple suggestions, it was a sudden reminder of just how badly you wanted the party to be over.

"You know the more I think about it, the more I come to acknowledge that this is really not my scene." You confess absentmindedly, backing up on the mattress so your feet dangle, your headache kicks back, beating inside your ears, knocking against your skull. You lie back on the mattress, curiously blinking up at Jisung's frowning face.

"Why didn't you tell me that before?" He says, a pinch in his brows pushing the shape up in utter concern.

"Because I wanted to come." You say honestly, prompting Jisung to heave a deep sigh, relief gradually washing over his rigid features, "I don't know, maybe I'm just not fun enough."

"Yeah. That's probably it." He jokes, grinning from ear to ear. But the shape drops immediately when you jut your lip out instead of mirroring the mirthful action. "You really think so?"

He blinks at you, not expecting the forwardness, "No." He says, and you note that this is the most serious Jisung has ever sounded around you.

Your face is growing increasingly hot as the weight of his remark started to kick in. It’s so unfair, isn't it? He has no idea how every little thing he said to you meant so much more than it ought. It hurt when you found yourself automatically deducing his trivial actions, all the while knowing it hadn't meant anything to him. To him, you're just a friend. And you aren't going to let your emotions ruin that, not again.

"What's the party for anyway?"

You furrow your eyebrows in genuine curiosity when the silence has become unbearable. Constantly needing to be disrupted.

"It's a stupid frat house tradition, they do it every time we move."

“Sounds like a cult activity to me."

You hear him hum, as if feigning contemplation, then open your eyes.

"Well, that...That's because it is."

It's very typical of Jisung to try to make jokes whilst trying to keep a straight face. In most cases, he doesn't fool anyone. His voice rises to a cartoonish volume, his mouth pouted out when he speaks as though to hold back a laugh, it’s his eyes, widened, twinkling with a notorious spark in them that ultimately gave it away. In rare instances, however, they deluded strangers into thinking he was being serious when he really wasn't; like that time he told Chan the pool was pre-heated just for the latter, who trustingly dove into the water, to swim up with clattering teeth and ice cold skin to the surface finding that Jisung was grinning deviously. It was an obvious payback for the time the older male hogged Jisung's share of cheesecake as a daring attempt at pranking.

Maybe, you guess, you just knew him too well.

"Interesting." you raise your brows, playing along, "I'm surprised there isn't any nude dancing involved."

"Wow...you sound so disappointed.”

Jisung laughs, his chest heaving upwards and downwards with every laboured breath. It's a pleasant sight, knowing you get to have this moment to yourself. For reasons you'd like to ignore, something inside your chest begins to ache, thrumming against your ribs. It isn't until you put your hands over your face in an attempt to get rid of a thin layer of sweat, do you realise that you were smiling.

When he calms down, he keeps looking at you. "I take that you made the submission?" He presses, knowing well that you were intending to put off the matter from the dodgy look in your eyes. "Right?"

Before, Jisung stubbornly pressed on the matter, it was unheard of for you to allow your writings to be read by anyone other than yourself; it was only fiction, your little secret, you reason, even though you knew the underlying cause of your unwillingness was that you simply cannot take rejection well, it is truly terrifying but an automatic reaction to think that your work is boring and somehow unworthy of praise every time you are on the verge of sharing it. Your parents never showed any particular interest in it and you assumed that was a universal desire.

But Jisung is incredibly obdurate when he wants to be.

Sometimes, you think he's the only person in your life who's truly honest with you, he doesn't shower you in false accolades, not hesitating to rip the band-aid, to point out the less likable bits from the likable ones even if he knew it would make you unhappy. It was interesting prying your wounds open around him, he wouldn't suppress his thoughts and blurt euphemisms like it's going to be okay, he would grimace and gag and then he'd clean them, he would sit patiently with them and try to dress them up for better - and somewhere along the way, while you may have cared about other people's opinions, your concern for what he thinks of you is starting to become far more significant. And it petrifies you. "No."

Jisung shoots you a look of annoyance, staring at you like he's awaiting an explanation. You can sense the lengthy talk coming from the back of his throat, something which surpassed the regular limits of you should do this and you shouldn't do this, he relentlessly pushed you towards your career which you claimed you were passionate about but needed his stern berating often when you would stagger back in indolence and you'd be lying if you said it isn't effective - albeit, the scoldings sometimes led to the two of you bickering back and forth, giving each other the silent treatment until one of you would cave - whatever it was, you know you could never turn down Jisung, even if he was bruising your ego to ask you to get your shit together. "Why not?"

"It's just a stupid draft, Sungie..." You laugh nervously but he doesn't give into the fit like you imagined, instead, he just dons a solemn look on his face, something that seems to show that he'd been peeved by your response.

"No it’s not." He shakes his head slowly and there's sort of a firmness in his retort that surprises you, far from how he usually jokes on about, that tells you there's no room for argument, "It's not stupid at all."

Jisung tears his gaze away, his expression softening once he notes the worried look on your face, it's as though he had suddenly changed his mind about the lecture he was surely planning to give you,

"Look I don’t want to fight.” He sighs, “You’re always talking about how much this means to you and if it’s something that you really want, don't put it off. I'm your friend, I can only encourage you — but at the end of the day, it's your job to pull yourself up. Goes without saying that it’ll be a complete waste if you don’t pursue play writing because you - and I don't care if you don't agree with me - really do have a lot of potential.”

You blink in wonder, ”You think so?"

"I know so."

You don't remember the last time someone said something like that to you, if at all. Tearing your gaze away from him, you’re met with the inability to shake the feeling of craving something you don't want to understand, mired in your own musings and for no particular reason but to avoid the desperation of confessing to yourself of the warm tight feeling inside your belly - you give into the temptation of placing your palm over the nightlight, watching the light turn from bright yellow to muted blue, it stings slightly.

Too cheesy, you would groan out under any other circumstance where you hadn’t been so fazed.

Instead, you just gulp, eyes wide at his forward comment, his praise is the equivalent of being splashed with ice cold water when one is half asleep, now you're all wide eyed and incognisant of what's real and what isn't, it prompts a jolting sensation to traverse all throughout your body, "Thanks."

This scene was no exception, Jisung tips his head back against his palms when he's thinking about something, while keeping his calm gaze posed on you, he smiles, rolling his eyes. “You’re too hard on yourself, loosen up just a little. I'm not always gonna be around.”

You muse that your mum said the exact same thing when you moved away for university but chose not to mention it, it's not true though, you want to say. Because Jisung is always there for you.

See, the universe exists on this dreadful thread of balance and you've been hanging on by your last finger for as long as you remember, taking every step on the basis of a fear of tumbling off to be greeted by the gasps and complaints of an imaginary audience, for the longest time, picturing your play to be dissected like a lab rat, for a delirious critic to point their scalpel and announce, the misshapen heart is here, that's the pudgy head.

But nowadays and you'll never tell him this, when Jisung talks about you like that, you almost believe it, believe in yourself and don't think he understands what it means to you, how grand that is - to imagine seeing your play come to life, something severely intimidating about watching it, spotlight gingerly kissing up the actors' newborn faces as the audience spews quiet comments, critics' expressions morphing with nuanced understanding, the anticipation is tangible, the walls closing in by the second, tension squeezing the air out of their lungs - until the curtains part and a story draws them into another world. Then everything falls into a formidable silence.The inexplicable feeling of being one wrapping its limbs around everyone and cradling them to its chest like a loving mother, awestruck strangers listening in on the heart wrenching dialogues, the belter of a riveting tragedy prompting their hearts to lurch forward and sit on their tongues, then they'll look around, spot bits of you in your characters and think I'm not alone. I never was. (The people you've both never known but known your entire life.)

It's better to slip, to put everything on the line for the sake of making way to what you want on a feeling rooted deep inside your gut than to cower behind the fear of disapproval and have nothing at all. Being brave enough to tell your story is not the absence of that fear which keeps you, but it is telling the tale despite, toppling that fear.

There's something relieving about that theory.

"I want to lie down..." You mewl, in spite of already lying down. It's a sign of how the constant toiling through exams was finally taking a toll on you, the sleepiness coupled with hours long lethargy from the party seemed to be weighing your body down, making your eyelids heavier by the second. He moves your hand, leaning into the light. A wash of colour is spreading across his face for a brief moment, exposing the skin to scrutiny, all veins, curves and crinkles around his eyes. Jisung smiles at you. Your eyes dart all over his face, resting on the curve of his mouth briefly, then his eyes, you catch the yellow flickering in them , the brown turning to dark copper.

Your heart drops to your stomach when he blinks away slowly, the disappointment assuaged by something foreign, dumb and utterly clichéd stirs in the pit of your stomach as his thumb briefly swipes across your knuckles, "You don't say, sleepy girl!" Jisung scoffs, bringing his arm under his head.

Unconsciously, entertaining the thought of staying alone in his room, you find yourself feeling safer because of his presence instead, divorced from prying eyes, "Thanks for staying." You say, wanting to talk to him more and more, contemplating fashions to contribute to the conversation again and again just to cut the silence.

"Well, you had a lot to drink."

He reminds, as if the reason for his staying is that obvious; worry laced in his voice and you understood why - even though you aren't completely doused in a state of inebriation, you kept swaying all the way upstairs.

"But you missed out on.." you drag the consonant unintentionally, "all the fun, though."

"Do I look like I care?" Jisung snorts, staring up at the ceiling, leaning back on his hands and dropping down against the bed, he laces his fingers together over his chest, digging into his pocket and fishing out his phone. It isn’t a question.

His wallpaper is of a kid gazing up from the water, he peers up at the camera, grinning ear to ear. This is definitely Jisung. Because even with his front teeth missing, his smile is all too familiar. His cheeks were chubbier back then, face rounder, softer around the edges. Subconsciously, you rose a finger to poke at his cheek, as if to examine it. Jisung shoots you a glare.

"You were cute."

You coo, leaning onto his shoulder, the closeness should not intimidate you, given the amount of time you spend like this. But it does anyway.

"What do you mean were?” Jisung scoffs, “Nu-uh, still am. I'm the resident cutie pie, if you will." He sings, narrowing his eyes briefly, thereon chuckling at the look of sheer disgust on your face.

You wrinkle your nose, "I can't believe you just said that..."

The rest of the night is spent in a comfortable quietude, except for the times when either of you perk up to initiate conversation and Jisung gives you aspirin for the throbbing migraine.

Your shoulders are touching. Jisung breathes. Slowly. Then fast. Then slow. And then he tucks an earphone into your ear, it was an unspoken ritual you two practised when you were alone, oft in a different venue, sitting languidly about campus, while you read and he winked through the glaring sun to get a distant view of the landscape.

Jisung yawns, the grapple on his speech loosening and loosening.

You remain quiet, closing your eyes again. Words feel liquid in your mouth, letters wobbling on your tongue until you feel like you've lost complete control over what you're thinking of saying.

You can see the scene unfolding inside your head, can feel the earth under your skin, can hear birds chirping, can feel the dusty orange, morning glow kissing your faces. As if you're the only two people there. "Coldplay, right?"

"Uh-huh..." Jisung replies, he sounds unsurprised by your aligned tastes. You look at him and find that he's mirroring you. His long lashes casting shadows on the apples of his cheeks, eyes clamped shut.

"It's beautiful..." You murmur, dropping your head back against the mattress, you think Jisung hums in response but you can't be too sure. It's like you're slowly, slowly and slowly drifting far, far away. Letting slumber wrap its welcoming arms around you.

For a second, you feel the weight on your shoulders lighten, you imagine that you're soaring, soaring, soaring, like you could look down and see the rivers and seas and lakes pulsing against the Earth's body, as though they were a bundle of nerves belonging to a round, green vessel of a body, and somehow - then immediately, you're being pulled to your feet, at great speed, you're falling, falling, falling - so fast that you feel like there's a fire budding inside your lungs, budding under your fingertips, inside your heart.

Then it begins. This must be a dream, this must be a dream, this must be a dream. The soft murmur of scripted words. Parted curtains, an open window allowing you to stare in wonder, dusk stretching across the entirety of the landscape, blue, then pink. You think of the big sapphire sea, the warm sand and someone waiting for you before it. You think, this is it. This is it. This is it. And run, run, run. Sprinting to the broadening view. You recognise the back of his head, the curve of his neck, tufts of raven hair fluttering about, his white cuffed shirt, his footsteps like a trail of breadcrumbs, feet dipped in frothy water, You call his name, surprised but think I knew it, I knew it, I knew it all along. He looks back and smiles at you, offering you his hand. (You're not over him. You don't think you ever were. And this is what you want, you want it so bad, after all this time, are you going to hold back? Are you going to hold back? Are you going to hold back?)

Just for a moment, in the split of a second, just now, just once, you aren't afraid.

You jolt awake, the earphone straining against the sudden movement, "Hey." You whisper, looking up at him. His Adam's apple drops with a slow gulp, the rosy colour of his parted lips. The slope of his nose. You don't know when you nuzzled your face into his chest, his long arm is draped around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. Your heart is beating noisily in your ears, on your tongue.

To your surprise, Jisung hums in response, eyes still clamped shut. You're so close, just so close, he brushes his slender fingers against the back of your neck, the touch feather light, as though reminding you that he had heard you. Your breath hitches inaudibly.

"Let's..." You say, with your tongue starting to limp inside your mouth, "go to the beach sometime."

...

A shower is running, loud, water gushing down and thumping against the tiles, the sound echoing and growing thinner by the second.

You sit up on the empty bed, the recollection of last night lodged deep inside your head like a butcher knife.

The realisation that you aren't at home isn't startling as you momentarily grow distracted in examining the room, the photos, the turntable, the white paint, the portraits, a light adjusted above, bits and pieces of a person scattered around.

Jisung's t-shirt is discarded carelessly on his reading table, your eyes widen when you acknowledge the occupant in the shower to be him, leaping up with a haste, everything comes back to you with a force equivalent of pulling the butcher knife out and slamming it right back into your skull.

"It's you!" You gasp, partially because the cheerful exclamation sends pangs of pain to your head, having made all the way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, only to find Minho whipping up pancake batter in a bowl. As opposed to his old Instagram photos, with the new complementing pink hair, his feline like features are even more staggering, eyes narrowed to amused slits, behind which beady black orbs stare you down in absolute curiosity.

"Right, we met last night." He reminds you, uttering your name quickly, finding that you already recognise him. He holds the spatula up, paused in surprise as if he really wasn't expecting to see you right now, the position only eases when you wave your hands dismissively and say it's not what you think.

He smiles, there's a strange disappointed quality to the demand."Sit down, let's have breakfast."

It's awkward, Minho spares you a few interrogating stares while you silently dig at your meal, the sound of cutlery and ceramic sounding through the open kitchen. You wish Jisung would come down already if the floor beneath your feet isn't going to open up and swallow you whole to save you from this discomfiture.

"They're really good." You nod, shoveling more of the unevenly cut portions of the pancake into your mouth.

"Do you still have feelings for him?"

You choke, coughing on the gigantic bite, patting your chest as you slowly as you begin to regain your composure. Minho's eyebrows are weaved upwards, hinting that he expected an answer despite offering you water. God, he cut right to the chase, you aren't used to people as blunt as that. When you don't say anything, he blinks at you, tilting his head to examine the evasive expression on your face.

"He talks about you a lot..." He notifies, as though it was an explanation for something. Minho's arms are crossed over his chest, proudly before announcing, "I think I practically know everything about you."

Funny, you could say the exact same thing about him. Jisung likes to babble on about people he cares about, which albeit is a handful, you are just as special as any of them. And that reminder as a consequence of his constant prodding makes you a little angry.

"Look, he doesn't like me if that's what you're trying to say." You blurt out, you don't want to get your hopes up. It's weird saying something so grave to someone you only recently came to know. Having already accepted your one sided feelings even though you struggle to try to suppress them and the hopeful part of you reasons that Jisung probably didn’t initiate a kiss because you weren’t exactly sober — but the real reason, and you know this, is that his withdrawal last night was just cherry on top of the big fat I-don't-feel-the-same-way cake.

You made the mistake of ruining your friendship because of a stupid confession in the past and you aren't going to make it again, not when you're closer than ever now.

"That's not what I asked." Minho comments. He is pretty great at appearing intimidating. Or rather, he sees right through you. You can't tell. But he's practically cornered you with his witty questions whilst his perceptive eyes keep an intent watch on you. Minho had a curious quality to him when he looked at things, he seemed to notice everything.

You laugh nervously, rubbing your nape when his gaze is practically unblinking in anticipating a reaction.

"How was your Gimpo trip?" You digress.

Minho's ears perk up, his eyes blown to big, happy circles, he nods his head excitedly, properly distracted from pressing the previous topic further.

The conversation fizzles away in a haze, Minho rambles on in a cheerful tone, his eyes glossed over in enthusiasm. He speaks of his three cats and asks you to commit their names to memory with a dead serious face, moving onto ramble on about his childhood, an entanglement of being the only child who dreamed laboriously of pursuing a career in ballet and succeeded. You listen attentively, not breaking your focus even when he gets up to do the dishes.

By the time Jisung lazily drapes a towel around his neck, all the while hopping down the stairs, you feel like you've overstayed, digging your feet into the heels from last night while Minho holds the door open for you.

"Need a ride?" Jisung asks, standing on his toe to look at you from behind Minho.

You shake your head, suggesting that you were to take the subway instead, keeping your eyes fixated on your sore feet as a reminder that you're opting for the alternative not by choice but because you don't have the energy to render Sunwoo an explanation of where you'd spent the night at with his constant teasing, Tightening the strap around your leg, while balancing yourself with the free arm, Jisung's long fingers quickly grab onto the underside of your arm, letting you balance your weight whilst posing the question, "You’re coming tomorrow for the group study, right?" You ask.

It was an uncharacteristic gesture, outright surprising, because of his renowned proficiency in that class, when Jisung suggested that he didn’t understand the volume of topics you were going over.

Jisung glances cautiously at his best friend, who has a stupid smirk on his face for some reason, like he knows something you don't, “Yeah, yeah...” He says, reaching out to pinch your cheek despite your complaint.

“Are you an alligator?” he calls out, prompting you to shoot a confused look over your shoulder. "What?"

It's just one of those things Jisung says instinctively, his eccentric humour getting the best of him in silences and you, well, you walked right into this one.

"You know...cause I'll see you later!"

In your peripheral vision, you spot Minho pinching the bridge of his nose at the quip, muttering a quick Jesus Christ.

...

During the day, the portrait is much more confusing.

It's carefully placed on the paper covered floor, the room smells like fresh paint and sweat. Jisung suggested that you go paint shopping in the pursuit of looking for a suitable colour to liven up his walls and the end of the semester meant you had enough time to put the purchased product to use.

There is a blob of red on Jisung's jaw and the colour gets smudged all the way to his cheekbone when he makes an unsuccessful attempt to itch the skin with the back of his palm. You don't tell him this.

"I bought it from the local display." He breathes out exasperatedly, the paint roller is placed on the paper, "The artist said it was about an unlikely romance or something like that. Looked pretty dope to me too and—"

"I don't get it." You cock your head to the side and investigate the painting at your feet with an obstinate want to understand how it's supposed to depict love. Or anything that bears semblance to it, you never did have a good eye for art, "It just looks like they slapped on paint."

You sigh, contentedly and think this must be it; because never was love meant to be understood.

It was meant to be felt.

...

"Why do you have that dumb look on your face?"

Sunwoo speaks, chewing through his snack, his fringe is glued to his forehead in a thick layer of sweat. You aren't surprised. The humidity is skyrocketing. A cut in your salaries have made you compromise the use of your obsolete air conditioner. It's a terribly humid Sunday morning and you're getting ready for a trip to Minho's beach house.

It wasn't hard to convince you. Such was possible because Minho's offer was reiterated through a number of ways and people over the span of last week. Even from Sunwoo.

He and the rest of the boys have started to get along pretty well, so well that you often end up acting as an amused spectator, simply watching the boys cosying up to one another while you're effectively camouflaging in the background of utter silence. Your friends teamed up to produce quips here and there, stopping to chuckle into their napkins, cheeks rubicund like ripe apples whenever you went out for dinner. It was becoming a regular occurrence, at this point. Not that you minded; you genuinely enjoy the time you spend together.

As a final move, Jisung reminded you of your slurred request of wanting to go to the beach, beating the purpose of you claiming you wanted to stay home doing nothing when really you were just looking to avoid encouraging how you felt for him. You constantly found yourself suppressing the desire to want more and the last few weeks had been the toughest because you had trouble ignoring how you felt although you were careful not to show it. Jisung was spending more time with you than usual since you were on summer break and were relieved of your studies for a short while. You couldn't forget that night at his place, the memory made your gut wrench in a desire you couldn't fulfill.

But while it was hard being around him, you just knew you couldn't help it.

The trip was, nonetheless, a reminder of how Jisung always gets what he wants, even if it is as easy as snagging his favourite items off of the super store shelf or something which demands more patience to be possessed, something that needs to be drawn out with unwavering persistence.

Come to think of it, you never really understood what it means to live like that.

"What dumb look?" You ask, averting your gaze from your phone, twiddling your thumbs for a response to Jisung's text notifying that they were taking the lead on the journey by setting off earlier than you to set up the place.

It won't take them as long as it will for you because it's a familiar premise for them. Your arm is starting to hurt from holding up your suitcase.

Sunwoo mimics a grin, stretching the corners of his lips awkwardly and flattening his lips like that of a frog, a string of dried milk sits on his chin to finish off the impression. He points to his face, "This one."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You roll your eyes, "Hurry up. Jisung messaged me the location."

Sunwoo nods, then pauses, then his eyes widen, a teasing grin making its way on his face, insinuating that he finally understood why you packed chocolate cake last minute in spite of you not having a particular preference for the item. "Does he know you have a big puppy crush on him?"

Sunwoo makes up for your social ineptness, amongst other things, and there are times when you don't understand what you'd do without him, times when you're relieved he's your friend even though you're essentially opposites - now is, certainly, not one of those times, now you wish he wasn't so close to you to have access to this information without telling.

"Are you hearing yourself? I don't have a crush on him." You lie, glaring at him, when your flatmate ducks his head to display that he didn't quite agree, you groan,

"I don't!"

…

"Do you take me for an idiot?"

Sunwoo pulls his sunglasses down to pretend to study you, his big brown eyes scrutinising you from head to toe. The strong stink of diesel is still emanating in the air in spite of the image of the gas station being wiped out long ago in your peripheral vision. You kind of like it, it contributes to boosting the anticipation of what was to happen when you reach your destination .

"Oh absolutely..." Sunwoo says, driving in the direction of the beach house the GPS pilots him to, Lauv hums faintly from the dusty speakers, the familiar lyrics filling the air whilst you unconsciously bobbed your head. The vague distraction allowed Sunwoo to buy time to gather his thoughts,

"You need to tell him how you feel before someone else does. You need to tell him how you feel, period."

“I'm not doing that again.” you warn him, he speeds down the highway, your beach hat threatening to fly about under the weight of your hands at the sudden gush of wind. "Need I remind you how it went last time?"

"Last time was different."

"How?"

"You barely even spoke to each other!" He exclaims frustratedly, pointing out the obvious, "Now you're good friends and he seems to feel the same way considering he always puts up with you...like...voluntarily." Sunwoo mocks, looking at the corner of his eye to note that you're rolling your eyes in annoyance, "Maybe Jisung's out of his mind."

"I'm not that bad!" You defend, quieting down once again when the memory of your admission flashes before your eyes in vivid details - the years of distance and silence that stretched between you because of it was hard - if that were to repeat itself now, when you're more used to him that you were before, you don't think you could bear it. Or maybe you could but you don't want to.

It's enough to just have Jisung around and not be yours than to lose him by admitting.

"I'm not putting us in that position again just because of how I feel. It's kinda selfish, don't you think?" Your statement has a touch of finality to it that shuts Sunwoo right up, he wordlessly pulls up in front of the huge beach house, another jeep and the Comet Convertible is parked; before which far off near the shore, you couldn't help but notice the two unfamiliar figures by the boys, one of them is wearing a bikini, standing incredibly close to Minho, who's setting up their small grill, the other (and it makes your stomach turn) is talking animatedly to Jisung, he nods and smiles in that way that makes you think you'll never quite stop loving him. Chan is holding up his phone to take a picture.

Sunwoo honks loudly, pulling you out of your trance. You can hear the I told you so sitting on the tip of his tongue when he shoots you a look of pity. You don't like it. The way that makes you feel like a toddler who can't keep herself from sticking her fingers into electric sockets in spite of being precisely instructed not to. Now, you think, the ‘I told you’ so would've been much more agreeable to your pathetic but injured emotions.

Jisung snaps his head around fast, raising his lithe digits to the air, waving at you languidly. The girl spectates the exchange in an engrossed fashion, slowly routing her inquiring gaze to yours in thought. Not all that seemed black and white is black and white between you.

"Are you coming?" Jisung screams over the noise and distance, away from the spot you're completely frozen in.

(A pang in your chest tightens. Tightens. Tightens. And you don't want it to mean something. But it does. It does and it always will.)

...

Minho once learned to set up tepee fires in scout camp, with twigs, a small heap of leaves, wood shavings and loosely screwed newspaper in the centre. Now, he only prides his younger self for setting up the fire once in their backyard and decides roasting marshmallows on the grill demands less of the expertise that he's lost overtime.

"I've actually heard a lot about you before we met." Sunwoo garbles out, clearing his throat.

You've been ignoring Jisung ever since you arrived. Now the group is sat down on the sand, in a misshapen circle, the two girls, now you know their names and the root of their invitation - Junhee and Shoshanna are merely bypassers the boys met when they arrived this morning. They're on a weekend trip like you and their visiting resident is a few houses away from yours. You wanted to act on your peevishness and groan out a loud What are they still doing here? everytime Shoshanna took the seat beside Jisung or asked him to set her marshmallows but that would, amongst other things, make you look like a crazy jealous idiot who has no right to step into a situation of that sort, even though Jisung seemed hesitant, cautiously looking at you every now and then.

Jisung's brows rise and fall, gaze darting between you and your flatmate, surprised, "Is that right?"

Sunwoo laughs, "Yeah." He chews carefully, trying not to choke, as if the source of his knowledge doesn't need to be pointed out.

"Only good things I hope."

Skeptical, Jisung glances at you with a cocked brow, in case you oppose but you avoid his gaze, glaring down at charred marshmallow on the tip of the stick and thinking of ways to strangle Sunwoo, who chuckles at the former's apparent doubt, furrowing his eyebrows in bemusement, "Only good things."

"You're on the varsity swim team, right?"

With a mouthful of food, Sunwoo poses the question, the grin only widens when Jisung replies with an equally enthusiastic nod.

"Did you know that this one can't swim?" He points his marshmallow stick at you, keeping his eyes trained on Jisung's surprised face. "I tried to provide assistance." Sunwoo insists, "But when someone is really bad around water, like screaming at the top of their lungs-I'm going to drown in a kid's pool- bad, it's quite a challenging task."

Minho produces an animalistic laugh at this, patting his thigh like he's rendered a vivid image of your embarrassing experience while Chan shoots you a concerned look, as if sensing an underlying tension in the air that the others can't. You don’t know which one you dislike more.

"I can hear you, you know!" You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Suddenly having lost your appetite.

Sunwoo widens his eyes, with a hand atop his chest, mocking you, "Really?"

You open your mouth to continue bickering with him because it was the only way you could hold yourself back from jumping across the sand and grabbing him by his collar in case that should stop him from further embarrassing you, but Jisung interjects, blinking inquisitively at you.

Jisung pouts. "It isn't that bad, you'll see, we can go for a swim anytime. That's what's the pool for anyway."

"Sungie, I could use a swim now. Can we go, please?" Shoshanna piped up jutting her lip in a way that made her more attractive, she hooked her arm with Jisung, pulling him to her side and he simply blinked at her, surprised by the gesture. Only you called him that — when did she pick that up? Why doesn't Jisung seem to mind at all? Are you seriously seeing what you are definitely seeing?

Without meaning to, you imagine them floating about in the water, while she curled her arms around his neck to keep balance and him leaning down to grin invitingly. And it feels like you're losing something.

You feel yourself jumping up to your feet. The sudden movement gains the attention of all your friends except Sunwoo, who keens on sparing you the smug grin which insinuates that he sparked the entire conversation intentionally. You hope the universe would miraculously render you telepathic powers so he'd start to choke on the stupid marshmallow.

"Uh...I mean...I gotta." You gulp, "I'm going to go grab a beer."

"Wait."

Jisung frees his arm to get to his feet, powdery sand dusted off of his sweats.

"I'll come with you."

You walk in silence, wrapping your arms around yourself. In your peripheral, you catch the sight of his pockets swelled around the area he stuck his fingers in, you don't think Jisung's ever been that quiet. It makes you feel guilty. You're acting out because you simply can't get a grip and it seems to have taken a toll on him. You want to punch yourself in the face.

It's not like you desire to stand in the way of his merry-making, it had to happen eventually, right? Jisung is free to get involved with whoever he pleases. He doesn't know how you feel and even if he did, you don't think he would reciprocate.

And despite everything, your heart still aches for him.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Jisung tells you. There's a sadness to his voice that supplies that you can't escape this conversation because you simply cannot stand it when something prevents him from being his happy-go-lucky self. But you can delay it.

You pull the fridge open slowly, scanning the items, alcohol, milk and a few other things that are necessary to spend the weekend. They definitely were newly bought.

Jisung pushes the fridge door wider, sighing, he pulls a can and hands it to you. "If this is about the girls, I'm not-"

"You don't have to explain it to me, Sungi—I mean, Jisung." You stare down at the perspiration collecting between your fingers and the can, then set it down immediately in fear of it slipping out of your hands. Jisung stiffens at the transition, a faint look of pain flashing in his eyes. What did he do that is so wrong?

You feel horrible for making him feel bad, aren't you supposed to be an adult? Aren't you supposed to have a strong grapple on your emotions? This isn't good for the two of you, you don't want to hurt him because of how you feel, Jisung needs you to be his friend and you can't accept, even after so long, that that's all you are to him.

"I don't think we should be friends anymore."

"What?" He purses his lips, furrowing his eyebrows. "Why?" He provides, raking a frustrated hand through his hair when your mouth parted instead of giving him an answer. "Did I do something? You could have just talked to me about it but..." He muttered shakily, repeating, "Why...this?"

Jisung glares at you, he looks so clueless, angry, blatantly hurt and it's such a selfish thing to ask of him, the least you can do is be honest with him, though you couldn't fight the annoyance from seeping into your tone because he apparently had not a clue.

"God, don't you see it?!" You placed a warm hand against your forehead, "I'm...in love with you...I love you, okay?"

You start to panic when the tense expression melts into his features, replaced by something you couldn't put a finger on, "Don't get me wrong, I don't expect you to reciprocate or anything. It's stupid, I thought I was over you but I'm…I'm not. And I can't...I can't watch you get on with someone who isn't me, especially when…" you trail, preparing to admit the truth to yourself once and for all, "...you don't already love me back. I can't...It'll hurt too much…"

"So...I think...it's better for the two of us to not continue this friendship anymore." You gulp, your palms shaking by your sides, those words have been taking refuge inside you for too long and saying them makes you feel empty, like you've lost something that keeps you grounded and you'd be aimlessly floating about for the rest of your life.

"I know I'm asking for too much…"

Jisung interrupts you with a wry laugh, the sound startling you. He never spoke to you that way, not even when you argued before.

"Yeah, you're right, you are."

"Well, I'm sorry." You breath out.

He leans closer so your hip presses against the cool counter. He drags his fingers from the exposed skin of your collarbone to your neck, tilting your chin up with his thumb while the remaining digits splay against your throat, "Sorry doesn't cut it."

The kiss sends a chill down your spine, prompting you to straighten up from your slumped position. Your knees feel like jelly, like they could collapse any minute. Jisung deepens the kiss, grazing his teeth along your bottom lip, he props you up on the counter and you sense yourself wrapping your legs around his waist, tugging on to his hair to draw out a groan from him; touching him feels so surreal, even though it's a reminder of just how real everything that's happening is.

"I…" he breathes heavily, "I love you. I'm in love with you. I didn't know what to do with how I felt and seeing you again...it just made me realise that I couldn't ignore it anymore. There were times when I couldn't help myself, I felt like I needed to see you when I couldn't, so I did, even if it meant I had to lie. I love taking care of you. I love our dumb inside jokes and I love the way we can't go long without talking. Hell, I love everything we do together." He chuckles, "But I didn't say anything because you told me you were over it. I... just assumed you were only interested in being friends with me." You don't think you've properly registered the sentences, maybe it's the suddenness of it all, maybe it's because you've never actually pictured this. You told yourself, this is how it's supposed to be, that Jisung was never supposed to feel the same. Just with that alone, you had axed your own foot, screwed yourself over more than anyone else did.

Jisung's face breaks into a sudden grin, he pecks your pouted mouth. "But I'm glad I was wrong."

"Did you just kiss me?" You joke, touching his face, tracing your fingers against his cheeks, the skin glossy and pinkish under the touch, his pupils are blown to large black circles, the brown in them barely visible.

"I don't know, did I?" Jisung deadpans, narrowing his eyes jovially.

He eases into the embrace when you slump against him in a tight hug. The chuckle comes out all muffled against the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Hmmm, can't be too sure."

You wrap your arms around his neck, it's like you just can't stop smiling. When you think about it, that's what being around Jisung was like, really. Your digits traverse from the side of his jaw to cup his cheeks, eyes peering into his. You watch as he blinks incredulously, there's something impatient about the way you look at him. Then you tilt your head and kiss him, gathering a faint taste of chapstick whilst your tongue prodded at his bottom lip.

A low moan thrums against his chest, his mind failing to produce a single coherent thought. Because, God, he knows exactly what you're doing.

This time the gesture is needy, desperate, as though to convey a strong desire to be completely consumed by him, to be ruined by him. You raise your hips to brush against his lower abdomen, eliciting a low groan from his throat.

"Baby not here." He breathes out, gauging your intention whilst resting his forehead atop yours. His palm traces the skin of your thighs, travelling up your sides, a free hand which rests at your neck coming to rest at your jaw. His delicate thumb journeys upwards, tugging your bottom lip out and then slowly retracting the digit. Somehow, the gesture makes his eyes darken even more, if that's possible. "Let's go upstairs."

You're so breathless and shocked and have your head stuck way so far up up in the clouds that the statement sounds imperceivable. "What?" You blink dumbly, with your hands on his shoulders.

A husky laugh made reverberates inside his chest, "We can’t...here."

As if on cue, you whimper needily at the weight of the implication. The thought of what is to unfold upstairs making your throat close up. You understood the purpose of his statement, the rest of the boys would soon gather into the beach house because it was getting dark soon, the sky was gargling its throat in the distance too, it would rain and neither of you were keen on PDA.

Jisung's teeth graze along your throat, his fingers around it to keep your head pressed to the door while your thighs are snuggly bracketed around his lithe waist. His need is apparent when he grinds up into your body. You're all but putty under his touch.

It's dark. But you can still make out how absent the room's paraphernalia is, just a bed which is stripped to the bare essentials of a white blanket and scratchy sheet, giving away the fact that visits aren't made too often. You don't care about all that though, Jisung pushes you back against the mattress, pulling his shirt over his head before resuming his position on top of you.

You can't understand how you kept away from him for so long.

...

Between your short, bitten and misshapen fingernails, the word Premiere reads on the tickets in bold red slanted letters.

You can't believe what was once a figment of your imagination, a rubbish script you wrote whimsically on too much caffeine and too little sleep was going to unfold right before your eyes.

It's crowded inside the subway, you stare at the heads, faces, shirts, jackets, arms and legs and your heart is beating too loud, like you ran a marathon or drove a sports car way past its speed limit, rammed it into a tree and flipped it over.

All the world's a stage and all men and women merely players.

(You should be scared, you should be scared, you should be scared.)

Delicate, lithe fingers quickly travel down your palm to squeeze the tense digits at the end, his free hand is rubbing circles on the back of your neck; you stare into those brown eyes and without really thinking, press a quick kiss to his pouting lips, it's difficult, he keeps grinning against your mouth but you pay little attention to those things now.

"That was a good move, champ." Jisung winks briefly, tracing his thumb along your cheek as he nuzzles his nose against yours, "You always kiss people on the subway?"

You grin, with a slow shake of your head, "Just the hot ones."

(This is a stage. And the passengers are waiting. The Tale Of Two Cities. The couple. The mother. Like that nightmare you used to have.

But, you think, it doesn't matter now. It doesn't matter anymore.

Because you've got your silver lining.)

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mercurysstars · 3 years

Text

The Shadow Thief (part 3)

Summary: What happens when Peter has to work with the girl he hates to possibly save the world.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Swearing, Blood, Violence.

A/n: Sorry it took me so long to post again! I’ve wrote like 3 different versions of this chapter because I didn’t know what direction to go in just yet.

"Woah, dude. Did you see this?" Y/n held out Peter's phone shoving it in his face.

Y/n had gone over to Peters house early that morning to get the last finishing touches on their project done. So they both reluctantly decided to walk together to school.

Peter snatched his phone out of Y/n's hands as they crossed the street. "How did you even get my phone? It was in my hands." She shrugged and pointed back at the article.

Peter scrolled down the page. Incoming reports say Avengers went on a mission and since gone MIA. How didn't he know about this? And why didn't the Avengers at least tell him they were going to be gone. Peter was confused, to say the least. Were they in trouble? No, they couldn't be they are the earth's mightiest heroes. Right?

"They probably just had to extend their mission and forgot to report back in." Or at least he hoped. He didn't want to think of the latter. He decided after school he would go to the compound and make sure everything was alright.

"If you say so." They walked up the stairs to the second floor of the school. Peter opened the door and they both walked into English. Y/n took her seat next to Mj and Peter next to Ned.

The thought of the Avengers missing did worry Y/n a bit. She wasn't a big fan of superheroes but she also was not, not a fan. It was complicated. Sure she liked the security of having someone to save the day. But she hated that they pretended to be better than everyone else. They judge criminals as they themselves have never done anything wrong. They tend to blame everything on everyone else and never take responsibility.

Y/n felt a nudge to her arm. She turned her head to face Mj. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"No, no it's alright I'm just thinking," Y/n said. She pulled out her laptop and opened her and Peter's presentation to have it ready just in case they had to go first.

Their opening slide was a picture of Anne Frank surrounded by a pretty border and Anne Frank’s name in cursive in the middle. Peter insisted their project had to look nice and not like some shitty last-minute one like she had originally done. Y/n had teased Peter relentlessly about it saying maybe he should be a graphic designer instead of Spider-Man. And he of course huffed and pretended to ignore her.

"Well, you just looked worried. Anyways tell me if you need any help." Y/n gave Mj a grateful smile. Y/n knew Mj could have this cold, hard exterior but she knew she secretly cared.

The bell rang signaling the first period started. The teacher stood up from her desk and walked to the front of the room clasping her hands together. "Good morning class. Today is the first official day for our presentations. We'll be picking who goes first by random. Any questions?"

One girl toward the front of the classroom stuck up her hand "Yes, Betty."

"Did you see the news? About the avengers?" The class erupted within hushed conversation everyone stating their theories of what happened and their worries.

"Alright, class settle down. I did see but we will continue like normal." She said. It kind of seemed like to Y/n she didn't care at all but she didn't really think anything of it.

The phone rang and the teacher quickly excused herself. Y/n picked at her fingers mindlessly. The teacher muttered a few words into the phone and hung up "Y/n, Peter." Her eyes snapped up at the sound of her name "They want you down in the office. And bring your things."

Y/n furrowed her brows. Her eyes met Peters "What did you do?" He mouthed just as confused as her.

What did she do? What the hell did he do. She hasn't done anything wrong. Well, at least nothing she gotten caught for. "Dude if anyone did anything it was you! I've only been here for like 3 weeks." She whispered-yelled back.

He put his hands up defensively. Y/n shoved all of her things in her bag and zipped it up. Mj raised an eyebrow at her and Y/n just shrugged with a clueless look on her face.

Y/n walked over to the door opening it with her free hand while her chrome book was in the other. Peter followed not too far behind. They step out and began to walk down the hallway shoulder to shoulder not a word muttered between them.

The hall was empty. No teacher, no janitor, no late students, not even the common lost freshman. It was strange to Y/n. She turned to Peter "This is weird. It's almost like it's too."

"Quiet." He finished for her. Peter felt off. His spidey sense wasn't alarming him with anything but it was almost like a gut feeling you'd get when some strange guy came up to you at a party being a little too friendly.

"Yeah." Exactly. They continued down the hall both on high alert. When they passed a window Y/n could see two men dressed in suits around the corner through the reflection.

"I think they're following us." She whispered to Peter. Y/n has picked up a thing or two of trying not to be noticed but the men behind them didn't seem like they cared much for subtlety. They had their eyes set on Y/n and Peter taking wide quick steps.

This time his spidey sense went off. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Peter reached for his web-shooters "We need to get out of here."

"You think?" Y/n back said in an aggravated tone. The next time they passed by a window she could see them screw something together slowly by their side.

Y/n glanced down to get a better look, it was a gun. All she could hear was the beating of her heart thumping loudly in her ears. Thinking quickly Y/n shoved Peter into a locker. A bullet whizzed past where his head once was and made a tiny thump when it hit the wall.

His eyes went wide momentarily stunned before he sprung into action. He shot out a web, grabbed the gun out of the man's hand, and flung it across the hall, making sure he couldn't get to it.

The men paused for a minute before muttering something to each other end breaking into a spring toward them. Well mostly at Peter luckily for her but still in her direction. Peter began to fight the one whose gun he had stolen hand to hand. The man got in a punch to Peter's face. Peter tripped him and tied him up with his webs.

The second man was coming toward her. Before she could second guess herself Y/n took her chrome book and slapped the man across the face with it. The man was momentarily shocked and Y/n opened an unlocked locker hitting him in the face. She watched him slide down the lockers unconscious.

More men turned the corner and came down the hallway. Y/n kicked a waist-length garbage can with wheels toward them as a small distraction. Peter grabbed Y/n pulling her into an empty classroom.

Y/n locked the door before she grabbed Peter and dragged him further into the classroom into a supply closet. They both crouched behind a mop bucket leaving the door cracked for a tiny bit of light.

"Would you like to tell me why there's someone outside this classroom trying to blow my brain out!" She huffed.

"Don't ask me. For all, we know they could be after you!" They both flinched as they heard the door handle shake.

"They were attacking you. Shooting at you. And you'd have a bullet in the back of your head if I didn't push you out of the way if I might add." She poked him in the chest.

The men began to start kicking at the door trying to break it down "Maybe if we figure out who they are we can get out of this."

"You know what I have an idea." Y/n reached back and grabbed the gun out of the waistband of her pants. Y/n started not to care much for introductions when they tried to assassinate her. Her motto was to shoot first ask questions later because she was not going down without a fight.

"What the hell Y/n! Where did you even get a gun?" Peter tried to put some distance between them but failed and ended up bumping into a shelf.

"Calm down bug boy I'm not going to shoot you." She rolled her eyes "I grabbed it off the guy while I smashed my laptop over his head."

"You are not shooting anyone!" He exclaimed. He was going to die with a psychopath. A literal psychopath. What would his uncle Ben say if he could see him right now?

"Fine whatever. How many webs do you have left?"

"Only one." He muttered.

"Only one! How the hell do you only have only one web left?" Oh lord. She was going to die in a janitor's closet with an idiot.

"Oh well, I'm sorry I didn't know I would have someone trying to paint the walls with my organs. I must have forgotten to mark it on my calendar!"

"Oh god, Okay." Y/n rubbed her forehead with her free hand.

She took the clip out of her gun and counted the bullets she had. Two. Okay, she could work with that, Somehow. She just had to live long enough to beat Peter up for almost getting them killed.

She turned back to Peter "Alright here's the plan so we are going to jump out of the window and see just how far that web can exactly get us." She could hear the pounds on the door getting more frequent and if she was being honest she was surprised it held this long.

"Are you crazy! You going to get us both killed." He didn't need the answer because he already knew she was. He swore he could see the shadows swirl around her for a moment but as quickly as it was there it was gone.

"Do you have any better ideas because I'm all ears, Parker?" He didn't say anything and just ran a hand through his hair letting out a frustrated sigh.

"That's what I thought." Y/n knew there was a good chance that they get hit by incoming traffic like a bug on a windshield but it was either that or the SWAT team outside.

"Let's get this over with." Said Y/n. They both stepped outside of the closet. The men outside the room gave the door one last kick and it broke off of the hinges. "Go." That was all Peter said.

Y/n shot the window with the two bullets she had. Peter ran over to Y/n and grabbed onto her tightly. They jumped through the window shattering it. Peter shoots out his last web hooking onto a nearby tree. At the peak of the swing, Peter let go of the web. They flew over the traffic narrowly avoiding the cars.

When they finally reached the ground they hit it hard. Peter took most of the impact but Y/n still hit her head. They continued to hold tightly onto each other as they rolled through the grass from the momentum of the swing.

They came to a slow stop and Y/n landed on top of Peter. She slumped off to the side of him and sat up. Peter did the same but with a groan feeling all of the bones in his body.

He noticed blood began to trickle out of Y/n's nose. "You got something." He pointed to her nose.

She wiped under her nostrils with her fingers and then again with the bottom of her shirt without a second thought "Oh, Thanks."

Peter rested his head on his knees. What was he going to do? As much as he didn't like Y/n he felt bad for dragging her into this. "We need to get going they are going to come looking for us soon."

"Where are we going to go?" The light was starting to become too much so Y/n put her hand over her eyes to shield her from the sun. She was starting to get a headache and just wanted to lay down. Peter stood up and dusted off his shirt and pants.

"Avengers compound." He held out a hand to her. She took it and he pulls her up onto her feet. They began to walk toward the street.

"I just don't know how we are going to get there." He added. They made it onto the sidewalk. Y/n was stumbling around so Peter kept his pace slow so she could keep up with him.

Y/n stopped walking "What do you think of this car?" She nodded to a 1997 Honda Accord.

"It's cool I guess." He said confused the car was a little old but he didn't say anything.

"Alright good. Now hand me your web-shooters." She held out her hand toward him.

"Okay?" He didn't really know what she was trying to get at. Peter just assumed she hit her head too hard but he complied anyway.

Y/n crouched down facing the car. She broke his web-shooters over her knee taking out two long curved metal pieces. She handed him back the rest of his broken web-shooters. Peter stared at her wide-eyed as she stuck the two metal pieces into the lock of the car.

"What are you doing." He hissed. Peter walked closer to Y/n trying to cover her as she picked the lock to the car.

"I just gave our problem a solution." She said without looking. She continued to twist the pieces around until she heard a little click. She gave a little cheer and opened the door.

"Yeah by stealing someone's car. Need I remind you is illegal."

" I like to think of it as borrowing. Besides I will happily leave you if you wish." She rolled her eyes. God, her head was throbbing.

Y/n took the plastic cover off of the steering column. There were three sets of wires and she grabbed the middle one. Y/n cut the red and blue wire. She touched the wires together until she heard the car start. She smiled to herself and lastly twisted the wires together.

She turned to Peter "Are you getting in or what?"

Peter looked around and then sighed "Fine, but I'm driving."

"What? No way, you don't even look old enough to drive." She crossed her arms.

"You have a concussion so I'm our best bet at not dying." He gave Y/n a sarcastic smile.

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes but got out of the driver's seat.

"You know if you keep rolling your eyes they are going to get stuck like that." She flicked him off and he laughed.

Y/n basically collapsed into the passengers seat. Peter closed his door and started the car. He pulled into the street and Y/n rested her head against the window. The cool glass felt nice against her forehead. She notice a bruise on Peter's pale cheek from when he got hit earlier.

Every now and again he would glance at Y/n to see how she was doing. He figured she must not feel the best because she hasn't said one witty remark since they got into the car.

He hoped by now the Avengers were back at the compound and could Tell them what's going on and who was following them.

He looked over to her again and she had her eyes close. He jabbed her with his elbow "Hey, don't fall sleep. You might not wake back up."

"Hmm Okay." She said but didn't budge.

"I'm serious Y/n, open your eyes." Peter was starting to get worried. It wasn't that he cared about her. But he didn't know what to do with a dead body. Or at least that's what he told himself.

"Don't get your panties into a bunch, my eyes are open."

They pulled into the road of the compound. When it came into view Y/n suddenly sat up wide eyed "Holy shit."

"What?" Peter took his eyes off of Y/n and followed her line of sight.

"What the fu-"

Part 4

Taglist

@fandom-strumpet • @ginger-swag-rapunzel • @libraries-and-coffee

#peter x reader #peter paker #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman #the avengers

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eryiss · 3 years

Text

Summary: Freed and Laxus have always flirted, it's just something they had done. But after Laxus returned from exile, the flirting died away as Laxus reestablished his position in the guild. But Laxus finds himself missing the flirting, and knows a way to bring it back. Unfortunately for Freed, it requires more teasing than any one man can take. [Fraxus One-Shot]

Notes: Hello again, here’s my second fanficiton written over vacation because it’s raining and there’s nothing to do. This time, it's just Freed being horny for Laxus, and Laxus making things so much worse for his own fun. So enjoy seduction, strip poker and smut. Thanks for reading.

Links: FFN, Ao3

How To Seduce Your Rune Mage:

A Guide By Laxus Dreyar

Step 1: Lay The Groundwork

Laxus had taken to a new style of clothing again. It was… distracting.

The outfit wasn't too dissimilar to what he had always worn, but Freed could see the differences. The white shirt was now form fitting enough to mould around his impressive biceps and cling to his pecs, whereas his old shirts had been loose enough to billow around him. Furthermore, he apparently had decided to only button the shirt up half way, leaving his tanned, tattooed chest exposed to whoever might want to look. Or, to whoever might be desperately trying to look anywhere else.

Compared to the new pants, though, the shirt was nothing. Laxus still wore the leather pants he insisted on, but these were tighter. Freed had walked up the stairs behind Laxus and had been eye level with the mans ass; the leather clung to his toned cheeks like skin.

Freed had been relieved when the walk upstairs had been over. The relief died when Laxus sat down.

Even the way he sat made Freed pause to both appreciate the sight of the man and curse him for seemingly being unaware of the effect he was having. He was leaning back in the chair, talking to Bickslow with his hands behind his head and his legs spread far too wide. His arms were flexing under the shirt, muscles all but ripping through the fabric. The leather of his pants pressed across his hard thighs, emphasising the beautiful strength in his legs. Freed had, more than once, let his focus slip and found his eyes roaming the man's thighs.

And then there was his dick. It was borderline obscene in how obvious it was in the pants. Dicks bulged in pants, of course, but for the split second Freed had glanced towards Laxus' crotch - not on purpose, of course - it looked like the pants were made to draw focus to his cock. The large, obvious mound was the focal point of a damn sexy sight that Freed couldn't allow himself to enjoy.

They had all mocked Laxus for calling himself a god, but in moments in this, the comparison held some weight.

Freed had to look away, Laxus hadn't dressed like that for his friend to lust after him. Just because their relationship had always had a flirtatious edge - well, it used to anyway, but Freed felt that might not be appropriate anymore given the things Laxus was going through - it didn't mean that he wanted him for anything more. They amused each other with their sly winks, double entendres and the coy touches that they'd shared from time to time. Nothing more.

But dammit, the way Laxus was sitting was like a beacon. He had picked the perfect position to drive Freed mad, and he didn't seem to even know it. His whole damn body seemed to be pointing to the large bulge in his pants - the bulge Freed would not allow himself to ogle - and yet Laxus was still chatting with Bickslow as if he didn't know.

Freed was almost tempted to leave. He could deal with his… urges when he got home, and then could hope that Laxus went back to his looser, less enticing outfit. Because if this was going to become a mainstay in their lives, Freed didn't know how to deal with that.

Dammit; he was a grown man, not a horny teenager. This was ridiculous!

As he always did, Freed had brought one of his many novels into the guildhall so he had something to do to pass the time. He would simply put all his focus on that, and Laxus would be the last thing on his mind. By the time he would have read a chapter or two, all the shock and desire born from Laxus' change in outfit would have died, and the man sitting across the table from him would return to what he had always been; the slightly too cocky asshole with handsome features and a great body, but someone he couldn't allow himself to think about because acting on his desires would be detrimental to the team dynamic.

He was a captain, and Laxus was essentially his teammate. Lusting after him was asking for trouble, and Freed had gotten over his attraction to the man before. He would again, and with the help of his novel he would push these thoughts to the back of his mind.

'Arthur hauled himself up over the railing of his ship, grunting with effort. The pirate captain ran a hand through his short blonde hair, absently removing his sodden shirt as he walked across the deck. As he passed Clark, he sent the man a grin and a wink, a flirtatious act of seduction. Not that Clark needed it, seeing the tattoo on Arthur's chest was enough-'

"God dammit," Freed muttered resentfully.

Freed owned exactly five romance novels. They were self indulgent and rarely read, and yet somehow he had picked up the only book he owned out of his collection of hundreds to have a romantic lead with physical traits similar to Laxus'.

"Somethin' wrong?" Laxus asked, looking over to Freed with his eyes alight with amusement. He looked towards the book Freed was reading and grinned. "Getting to the good stuff, huh?"

"What?" Freed asked, then looked at the cover of the book. The barrel chested model made it clear it was a rather trashy romance, and Laxus' implication was clear. "No, I most certainly am not."

"Because you leave that stuff for when yer alone, huh?" Laxus teased.

Freed didn't know what it was about himself that delighted in confident men, but that part of him was almost preening with delight at Laxus. Thankfully, just as much as he liked a man with a cocky side, he also liked bringing men like that down a peg, and as such he could still cling to some of his dignity.

"I was frustrated because one of the main characters has a terrible sense of direction, and got the other character lost," Freed rebutted. "It was something I can sympathise with."

"Damn, yer brutal," Laxus chuckled. "But you always go hard on me, huh Freed?"

That must had been unintentional; there was no way Laxus had meant to say such a teasing thing. It was just as unintentional as the way Laxus shifted his position to look towards Freed, somehow spreading his legs wider and drawing the leather tighter across his legs. Damn him; was he just naturally sensual and it had taken the tightness of his clothing for Freed to realise it.

He couldn't help it, his eyes flickered to the impressive bulge in his pants. For a moment, Freed considered acting. Would he rather get to his knees and suck the man off, or flip him over and fuck him where he stood?

The thoughts went as soon as they came, and Freed found himself standing.

"I'll get us around," He said to explain why he suddenly lurched upwards. "Anything in particular you all want?"

Bickslow and Evergreen asked for their usual, whereas Laxus requested Freed "surprise me, but make sure it's hot." The inflection he put on the last word sent a chill down his spine, and Freed quickly retreated to the lower floor of the guildhall, trying to distract himself however he could.

As he did, he missed the smug, satisfied expression on his friends face. Laxus had Freed right where he wanted him, and part one of the plan was complete.

——

Step 2 - Set The Bait

So, Laxus was modelling now. Of course he was,

The newest edition of Sorcerer Weekly was sitting on the coffee table of Freed and Laxus' shared apartment, exactly where Laxus had placed it when he'd left the apartment. He had done so as if it weren't a big deal, claiming that he had spoken about the Raijinshuu during an interview and that Freed should check it out if he was interested. That would have been fine, if it weren't for the picture on the cover, and the promise of many other pictures inside.

On the cover, Laxus was wearing a dress shirt and blazer, with the buttons undone so his chest and flexing abs were teased. His pants were unbuckled, teasing the top of his boxers in a way that was like a punch to Freed's gut. Not to mention the damn smoulder Laxus had perfected.

Dammit, Laxus had been against modelling for his entire life, and now he was doing a four page spread! Where had the change come from? Freed might almost think Laxus was doing it on purpose - intentionally driving him mad as a ridiculous prank of some kind - but that was a stupid idea.

And Freed knew how this worked. He knew the pictures inside would show off more of him. They always did, and Freed knew they'd look so good. So damn good.

"No," He mumbled to himself. "Get ahold of yourself."

Laxus was his friend, he certainly didn't want nor need Freed ogling pictures of him in various states of undress; fantasying about pinning him down and taking him, or pushing him to a wall and making out hard and passionately. They were friends and partners, this ridiculous attraction was something Freed would just have to get over.

But… well, Laxus had said he wanted Freed to read the article. The article would be on the same page as the pictures, so he clearly didn't mind Freed seeing the pictures. And Freed was fairly sure Laxus had some kind of attraction towards him in return; on a mission a year ago, Laxus had been speaking in his sleep and moaned out Freed's name pretty damn loudly. That was a memory that plagued Freed when he was touching himself, whether he wanted it or not.

So, maybe it wasn't too bad. It wasn't too invasive.

He picked the damn magazine up with a rush of oddly exhilarating dread. Page five was the first of Laxus' article, and Freed flipped towards it. He would just save his curiosity and be done with it.

Oh. Oh goodness.

A large picture of Laxus was printed. Laxus was shirtless, covered in some kind of oil that made his tanned skin glow beautifully in the light. He was flexing, abs so shredded and his arms pulsing with veiny muscles. His lightning was flickering over his torso, making him look everything like the all-powerful wizard that he was. Freed swallowed, and his cock lurched in his boxers.

His eyes fell onto page six, where another picture was printed. Laxus was wearing workout shorts and nothing else, the spandex clinging to his thighs in a too tempting way. He was mid sit-up, stomach crunching and hair sweat drenched.

Freed was palming himself over his pants without realising.

He had already gotten this far. He turned the page to see the next picture, and audibly swallowed.

The picture on the left was of Laxus wearing nothing but light grey boxer-briefs. He had his right hand resting behind his head, biceps flexing and bulging hard. His pecs and abs were rigid and pronounced, nipples hard looking. Water had clearly been poured over him, and droplets seemed to be sliding down the endless expanses of muscles that made up the man. His boxer briefs were overly tight, hugging his bulge to perfection and making Freed palm himself harder. His cock was hard now, and precum leaked out of his slit when he saw that Laxus was pulling down his waistband to show the base of his cock and trimmed pubes.

When he looked to the final picture of the, Freed actually moaned. Laxus was naked, his dick only covered by the white bedsheets that rested over his crotch. He lounged on the bed, looking sleep worn and sexy.

Fuck, Freed had wanted to see that in person.

He suddenly remembered where he was and what he was doing. He was in his sitting room, on the sofa he shared with Laxus, looking at the smutty pictures that Laxus had taken, while palming his dick. Freed was not a sex hungry idiot and he had gotten over his attraction to Laxus before, and he would again. He just needed to get it out of his system, that was all.

Within a minute, he was in the shower, stroking himself off as he imagined Laxus on his knees before him.

Again, he missed when Laxus returned home. He missed when Laxus saw the magazine, open on the page with his nude picture. He missed when Laxus sniffed the air and smelt the scent of cum, and grinned to himself. Before Freed left the shower, Laxus retreated to his bedroom, cock hardening in his pants as he did. He wanted to join Freed in the shower and cut the bullshit, but his plan hadn't gotten there yet. And, he had to admit, Freed eye-fucking him all the day was hot as fuck, and he wanted more of that before he made his move.

——

Step 3: Reel Him In

"And with this, Laxus," Freed placed his cards on the ground. "I get your pants."

Freed and Laxus were alone, sitting next to a campfire beside a lake. It was just the two of them on the mission, which had been completed earlier in the day. Rather than returning home, Laxus had suggested that they camp out for the night and return to Magnolia in the morning. Freed had agreed, and somehow had been talked into a game of poker. Strip poker, to be more specific.

They were in various states of undress. Freed was wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs, and probably should have given in by now. One more loss and he'd be spending the night naked, not an overly attractive idea with Laxus sharing a tent with him.

For the start of the round, Laxus has been brutally successful, and Freed had lost his shirt, shoes, coat and socks before he had gotten a single piece of Laxus' clothing off. Freed had wanted to claim Laxus was cheating somehow, but the alcohol he'd drunk had made the argument too much bother. Every time they lost a round, they had to take a drink, and Freed had lost a lot of rounds so was practically drunk at this point.

That wasn't too bad, it certainly made looking at Laxus half naked more pleasant and less stressful.

The drinking wasn't the only forfeit they'd implemented either. If either of them lost twice in a row, they had to do a forfeit chosen by the winner. That had happened to Freed twice, and he'd had to give the story of his most embarrassing moment - a puppeteer wizard had taken control of him and made him act like a clown for a full day, in full costume including the wig and squeaking nose - much to Laxus' amusement. The second forfeit was to do as many chin-ups as he could on a nearby tree. He managed thirty before the bark started cutting into his hands, and Laxus hadn't taken his eyes off him.

Laxus had only been forced to perform one forfeit: speaking in rhyming couplets for a round and slapping himself every time he failed. His cheek was red, but Freed still wanted revenge.

"You don't have to enjoy it this much," Laxus laughed, taking a drink as he stood. He shucked off the too-tight leather pants and threw them to the pile of clothes. He spread his arms to show his state of undress off, and Freed swallowed at the sight of Laxus in his white boxer-briefs.

Fuck, why was everything he wore so tight these days?

"So," Laxus grunted. "What you gonna make me do?"

"Your cheeks are very red," Freed commented with a drunken grin. "Perhaps the fire is getting you too hot. So, you're going to submerge yourself fully in the nice cold lake."

"Fuck, you're cruel," Laxus sighed, patting Freed's bare shoulder as he walked past him. "Glad I'm on your team most of the time."

Freed only realised his mistake when it was too late. When he had chosen the forfeit, he had simply wanted to make Laxus feel the horrors of a cold lake in the middle of the night. It was only when Laxus was wasit high in the water that Freed realised he had instructed Laxus to get soaking wet in front of him while he was wearing his boxers and nothing more. His white boxers - made of the fabric that turns slightly transparent when wet.

Fuck, what the hell had he been thinking? Were his critical thinking skills so redundant around Laxus?

"I'm gonna get you back for this, asshole," Laxus yelled, and Freed turned to watch as Laxus dove into the cold water head first, only to resurface a moments later with an exclamation of: "Fuck that's cold."

Freed couldn't look away. Laxus, the man who had been plaguing Freed's most carnal and deprived dreams and thoughts, was wading through the lake, soaking wet and wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. He looked like a fucking supermodel, and Freed felt the horrible feeling of a boner growing in his revealing boxer-briefs. Worse still, he couldn't stop it, because thoughts of kissing the man dry or dragging him to the tent and having his way with him wouldn't stop assaulting him.

And Laxus, the bastard, decided to make things worse. He stood right before Freed, his bulging dick eye level with Freed (not that Freed allowed himself to look), with his arms crossed. He was so close that a drop of water from his chest fell onto Freed's nose and made him wince.

"Well, you might be okay losing your boxers tonight, but I ain't," Laxus shrugged, "and it's getting late, so I'm gonna call it a night. See you in the tent, you evil bastard."

He emphasised the point by flicking the cold water into Freed's face, and then walked to the shared tent. Freed was left alone by the fire, genuinely considering jumping into the water to shock the boner out of his system.

And Laxus just grinned, knowing exactly the effect he was having on Freed and loving it.

——

Step 4 - Adapt

"Oh thank fuck," Laxus gasped the second Freed walked into their apartment. "You're a fucking idiot, you know that."

Freed frowned, dropping his bag at the door. Laxus seemed to have been waiting for him, which was a shock. Almost as much of a shock as when Laxus stormed over towards him and wrapped his arms around Freed in a tight hug. Freed was frozen for a moment, but lifted his arms and returned the hug. Someone had apparently told Laxus what happened then.

"Are you fucking stupid?" Laxus growled. "Don't you ever pull bullshit like that again, you understand me?"

"I won't," Freed promised.

"You better not," Laxus pulled away, but cupped Freed's cheeks to check his face for injuries. When he saw none, he deflated. "Idiot."

Freed had been on a mission with Bicks and Ever, and it hadn't gone well. The creature they were fighting was stronger than they had expected, and to divert attention from some bystanders, Freed had put himself in the path of the beast. He'd been bitten, and the creature's teeth had injected poison deep inside of him. For around a week he'd been in bed, unresponsive as the medical mages removed the poison from his bloodstream. According to Bickslow and Evergreen, it had been one of the worst weeks of their lives, and apparently Laxus had been kept in contact about it.

"I'm fine," Freed assured him. "I've got a scar, that's all."

"They wouldn't let me come see you," Laxus stated. "I would've gone if I could have, but they wouldn't let me. I wanted to be there."

"I know," Freed nodded, smiling a little as he pulled away. He frowned when he saw what Laxus was wearing. "Why are you wearing a robe?"

"Oh, shit, yeah, that," Laxus blushed a little. "So, fuck Freed you could have died. And I know you're okay because you don't lie about shit like this, but it kinda puts things into perspective. Just because you made it out this time, doesn't mean it'll happen again, you know?" Freed nodded, wondering what this had to do with a robe. "And it got me thinking that, if something happens to ya, I ain't gonna want any regrets, I don't wanna look back and wish I did something that I was too scared to. That make sense?"

"Yes," Freed nodded.

"Well, I don't wanna regret you, so I'm done with the bullshit," Laxus stated. "The flirting without following through on it, and trying to turn you on to see if you'll start something? It's just all bullshit when either of us could fucking die at any point-"

"Laxus," Freed said firmly. Laxus was spiraling, and Freed needed to get him back to something more safe. "The robe?"

"Right, yeah," He calmed himself. "The robe is me saying that, if you want me," He undid the tie on the robe. "Then you've got me."

The robe fell from Laxus' body, revealing him in his nudity.

Fuck. Fuck!

Freed had put in a lot of effort keeping boundaries with Laxus. Yes they flirted, but they both seemed to consciously avoid seeing each other naked. Nudity was the last bastion of them being platonic with one another, because when it happened it would be the crescendo of their flirting. It was an unspoken rule; if they saw each other fully naked, then they'd finally do something about it.

But there Laxus was, naked and proud. His dick had the same veiny girth the rest of his body had; long, thick, and half hard.

And, if Laxus was being truthful, his body was Freed's for the taking.

Without hesitation, Freed closed the space between them and wrapped a hand into Laxis' hair. He wrapped the short blonde locks into his hand and tugged Laxus down towards him, pulling him into a heated and needy kiss. Laxus' hands were on his ass without thinking, groping Freed hungrily as he rolled his naked hips against Freed's. Freed let out a shuddering moan, allowing Laxus' tongue into his mouth.

Years worth of flirting and causal grins and caught moments of attraction had been leading up to this. No more dancing around it; they wanted each other and they were going to take it.

Freed's hands roamed over the body he had wanted to explore for so long. The muscle was as hard as it had always looked, and the quiet gasp from Laxus when he grazed his nipple made Freed grin.

"So responsive," Freed taunted.

"Shut up," Laxus growled huskily, taking hold of Freed's belt buckle to undo it. "I wanna look after you, baby. Not listen to ya smart-mouthing me."

"I don't need coddling," Freed argued.

"I said I'm gonna look after ya, not coddle ya," Laxus grinned, bringing his lips to Freed's neck in teasing bites. "I know you Freed, I know exactly what you want out of a man."

"Oh do you?" Freed challenged. "And what is that?"

"Me," Laxus grinned.

Before he could say anything, Laxus' hands wrapped around Freed's thighs and scooped them up. Freed was lifted up, straddling Laxus' naked body and leaning against him to keep them both upright. A laugh spluttered out of Freed, because the man who had been the subject of his fantasies for so long was lifting him up and walking him to his bedroom.

This was happening. They were going to bed together, and Freed knew that it would be indescribable.

He was thrown into his own mattress, and Laxus crawled over him. Every fantasy, every photo shoot, every thought of Laxus paled in comparison to Laxus crawling over him, shamelessly naked. His chest was heaving and he had the thinnest layer of sweat over his chest, and Freed found himself a little breathless as Laxus placed his hands either side of his head. He looked down at Freed with an expression of mingled cockiness and fondness; a look only he could manage.

"It's awful unfair you're still dressed, baby," Laxus murmured.

"I'm rather fond of the situation," Freed smirked, and Laxus grinned down at him.

"Then you might not like this," Laxus taunted, reaching down and groping Freed's already hard cock through his pants. Freed gasped, but the hand was gone as soon as it came. Laxus smirked down at Freed when he grunted his annoyance, fiddling with the belt buckle again to unfasten it. "Hips up, Baby."

Freed did as told, and Laxus was pulling Freed's pants down his legs. Once they were off, he tossed them aside and grinned down at the hard cock tenting his boxers. Freed was breathless at the hungry, horny attention Laxus showed his hard dick.

"Touch me," Freed panted an order.

"You still ain't naked," Laxus grinned. "But I'm gonna fix that."

Laxus crawled up Freed's body again, his naked legs grazing against Freed's as he ran their strong bodies against each other. He let out a slight shuddering breath as his knee grazed Freed's hard cock, before refocusing his attention at the task at hand. He placed a hand on the side of Freed's shirt, before yanking at it hard. The buttons on the shirt flew off, scattering across Freed's bedroom floor with a clatter. With his abs and chest exposed now, Freed watched as Laxus lowered his head down and pressed kisses against his stomach.

"Oh god," Freed moaned.

"That's right," Laxus grinned. "Say my name,"

Freed let out a breathless laugh as Laxus reached his chest with the kisses. He pushed himself up further, naked chest against naked chest, and brough Freed into another spellbinding kiss. They melted into one another, moans enfusing with the kiss as Laxus' hands kneeled and grabbed at Freed's body. A wayward spark of Laxus' lighting hit one of Freed's nipples, and Freed moaned so loudly and blissfully that Laxus went half lidded.

He'd have to remember that. But not now.

As they kissed each other, Laxus removed the shirt from Freed's arms and tossed it to the side. Freed's paler body contracted beautifully with Laxus', and Freed moaned at the press of the other mans bulk against him. This was like every fantasy he'd had about the man, but better in such an explosive way.

Laxus' knee was gently teasing Freed's straining cock, the seam of his boxers the only friction against his aching member. He raised his hips on instinct, trying and failing to rub against Laxus.

"Please Laxus," Freed whispered. "Just touch me."

"Not until yer naked," Laxus whispered back, hands running over Freed's flexing abs. "So soon, baby."

One of his roaming hands slid down to his cock, giving it a single, torturous pump. Freed whined and Laxus chuckled into his ear, the feeling of the man's breath against him incredible in its intimacy. The hand hooked itself in the waistband of his boxer-briefs, quickly pulling them down and exposing Freed's cock to the room. He moaned at the change of temperature as Laxus tossed his boxers away.

For a moment, Laxus sat up, straddling Freed and looking down at him with horny adoration. He looked at Freed with the same expression of need, desire and lust that Freed looked at him. Freed's cock leaked with pre cum, and Laxus looked almost blissed out.

And then, he lowered himself, taking Freed's cock into his mouth in a single fluid movement.

"Fuck!" Freed exclaimed, hands clutching at the sheets as the warmth of Laxus' mouth covered his cock.

He was thunderstruck as he watched Laxus work. The man who Freed adored was sucking his cock, smoothly and passionately, taking him to the balls and then drawing back to the tip. He neither gagged nor slowed, as if his sole purpose in that moment was to suck Freed off.

"Shit," Freed moaned. "Laxus, stop. I'm gonna-"

Laxus only increased the speed of his movements, tongue licking and teasing at the tip of Freed's cock. Freed's grip on the bedsheets turned white-knuckled, and he thrashed his head back as white covered his eyes. The pleasure was unreal, multiplied whenever he thought of the man who was doing this to him. He groaned, bucking his hips as the rush of orgasm overtook his senses.

The feeling was damn-near life ending. Every nerve, sense and thought was set alflame as he bucked his hips, his spasming dick fucking Laxus' throat without repentance nor care. A spew of cusses, moans and exclamations filled the room as spurt after spurt of hot cum shot down Laxus' throat.

He was swallowing it all, and the constrictions of his throat against Freed's dick only further drained his balls.

"Fuck," Laxus gasped once every drop of his lover's cum had been swallowed. He was red faced and grinning, chest heaving and dick rock hard. Freed, despite the orgasm, was just as hard. "You tasted so good, baby."

"Fuck," Freed parroted weakly, shifting and pulling Laxus towards him. He pulled him into a sloppy and needy kiss, not purebred by the taste of his own spunk on the other man's tongue. He openly groped at Laxus' ramrod dick, pumping at it and delighting in the shuddering moans Laxus tried to hold back.

"Wait," Laxus panted, pulling away. "First time I cum for you, I wanna cum in you."

Freed could have reached orgasm again from just that.

"If you wish," Freed teased, and Laxus' face brightened and he pulled him into another kiss.

Without argument, Freed allowed himself to be pulled so he was straddling Laxus, his cock resting against Laxus'. They kissed slowly, Laxus scraping at his back while slowly gyrating his hips in a way that was clearly driving both men mad. Freed was absently pulling at Laxus' hair, mind swirling with the memory of Laxus' lips around his dick, swallowing him without complaint. Fuck, this was happening. He and Laxus were going to fuck.

All the fantasies of this moment fell away. Freed knew they would be pathetic when faced with the reality.

As they kissed, Laxus had reached into Freed's dresser and brought out a bottle of lube he kept there. He had covered his fingers with the lube, before slowly trailing them down Freed's stomach, leaving a cold trail in their wake. He cupped Freed's ass with large, cold hands. Freed gasped as they ran gently across the crease of his ass.

"You ready?" Laxus asked in a voice one might describe as lovestruck.

"Yes," Freed nodded, pushing his body tight against Laxus'. "Please."

One finger slowly slid inside Freed, and the moan of unfiltered, unadulterated pleasure filled the room. Laxus was grinning as he slowly probed Freed's asshole, teasing and slow in his movements but stretching him out to perfection. Another finger pushed its way in, and Freed groaned a guttural groan as he rested his face in the crook of Laxus' neck. He stretched and toyed with Freed, and all he could do was delight in the face it was Laxus doing this to him.

"That's enough," Freed stated just before Laxus slid in a third finger. Laxus looked at him with a hint of hesitance, and Freed smiled a naughty looking smile. "I want to feel you splitting me."

"Fuck," Laxus breathed, and his cock lurched at the words. "You demon."

"Absolutely," Freed agreed, shifting his weight up.

With slightly shaking hands, Laxus held the base of his cock and pointed it upwards. With too slow movements, Freed carefully moved himself down again. The tip of Laxus' fat, quivering cock rested against his hole for a moment, and they both groaned at the feeling. Freed paused, but with a shared look of trust and desire, he slowly began to lower himself down.

Inch by inch, he took Laxus' cock inside of him. They both groaned, moaning their pleasure to the otherwise silent room. Laxus scratched at Freed's bare back, while Freed clutched to his lover's shoulders. His thighs quivered with the effort of holding himself up, and a gasp split his lips when he felt his ass rest against Laxus' legs.

He had never felt so thoroughly filled before, and his eyes fell to the back of his skull.

After a few moments to accommodate the new sensation, Freed gave a tentative grind of the hips. Both men moaned loudly at the feeling, and Freed's grip on Laxus' shoulders tightened. He rested his head in the crook of Laxus' neck again, before whispered a quiet, "Fuck me, Laxus."

It happened instantly,

Thrusting, slow at first but incredible, started to split Freed open. The beautiful burn of his body being torn apart increased with each slow and taunting push and pull of Laxus' dick. He could feel all the ridges of Laxus' dick inside of him, pushing apart muscles that was all too happy to accommodate him.

And then, with a stronger thrust than before, Laxus hit the spot. Freed let out an incoherent sound of erotic delight.

"There," Freed demanded, voice wavering. "Oh fuck, there."

Laxus needed no more instruction, thrusting his hips up again and again, faster and more powerful with each strike. Consistently he beat against Freed's prostate, again and again making him moan, whine, grunt and roar with the pleasure that only years of growing desire could have caused. Freed pushed down against him, wanting to feel more. To get more!

"Oh fuck," Laxus moaned, voice a horny, needy, desperate shadow of its former reticence that drove Freed mad. "Shit, fuck."

He was cumming, and the feeling of the man he loved filling him with cum while he spasmed and grunted was all-consuming to Freed. Orgasm overtook him with the same sudden ferocity, and the overwhelming euphoria made him shut his eyes and drown in the pleasure.

As he rutted into Freed, cum still spilling, Laxus pushed them both down. Lying atop Freed now, Laxus rode the high of orgasm to its end, not caring that Freed's own cum had spattered across both of their faces and chests. Panting and slowing his thrusts, he collapsed onto Freed with a giddy, horny smile.

"Holy shit," He cussed. "Why the fuck did it take us so long to do that?"

"It's a mistake we won't repeat," Freed said, equally breathless.

He pulled Laxus into another kiss, slower this time but arguably more passionate. Their movements were tired, lethargic, and perfect. Freed shifted them both, removing Laxus' cock from his ass and lying beside him, not once breaking the kiss. He nuzzled into his lover, smiling gently.

"I'm glad you're okay," Laxus murmured when they did pull away, stroking Freed's cheek. "And I'm sorry I fucked around and didn't make a move before. All that teasing bullshit was just my way of trying to get you to do something first, because I was scared of getting rejected."

"I can understand that, and I certainly won't be angry at you," Freed chuckled. "But know, I will do exactly the same to you from now on."

"Wouldn't expect anything less," Laxus grinned. "But we're not waiting that long until we fuck again, right?"

Freed simply smirked, and kissed his lover again. "Absolutely not."

#Fraxus #freed x Laxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #fairy tail #fanfic #Writing #one shot #word count: 5.9k #canon divergence

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ajbwasntwriting · 3 years

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Daughter!Reader x Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 4. Bow Boy

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After way too many chapters the reader will now meet our favorite archer.

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

if you wish to be added to the tag list please dm me. All chapters can be found under the tag AJ’s Negan’s Daughter AU

In the weeks that followed you had become adept at moving through the dead. You had set up a little place closer in the city for yourself, complete with a crappy veggie garden on the roof of an apartment complex for yourself. Only Tomatoes, Onions, and Lettuce seemed to grow up there but it was better than nothing. You had built up a steady collection of books, turning one of the abandoned apartments into a library. You treated the zombie books as if they were comedy. ‘If only they knew’ you’d think looking at your wardrobe which consisted of some comfortable pieces to lounge around your hideout in and a bucket of cloths stewing in guts for when you went out. It proved beneficial to leave the home smelling freshly dead.

You were trying to build up a collection of canned food, meant to get you through the winter, but it wasn’t enough and with your last crop failing you knew it was back to foraging for at least the next three months. You had an old calendar broken up and spread across your floor. If you could fit seven cans on each page then you’d be fine...but seven cans was all you had, not including the dog food. The only good thing is that food was the only thing you had a hard time coming up with.

You were wandering through the streets again in your walker gear, your bag empty, aside from some old seed mix you took from the pet store. The snow had begun to fall making being discrete more difficult as the dead would often get stuck or fall over, which wasn’t an option for you. ‘Maybe when it gets heavy I can wear my normal clothes.’ you thought.

It was no use, the sun was setting, and traveling deeper into town would prove a fruitless effort if you got caught by the dead. You backtracked to a bank. The doors were broken and bloodied and ripped sleeping bags lined the ground, but what you came here for was the boards on the windows. You ripped some filling from a sleeping bag, shoving it into your ruck-sack, and moved to the windows.

You got the first board down but the click of a gun stopped your movements. “Turn around. Slowly” a man with a southern accent spoke. You did as he said, turning around with your hands raised. To say you were surprised would be an understatement. Before you stood Rick Grimes, along with a man with a crossbow and a woman with dark hair pulled into a tight pony, pointing a familiar rifle at you.

“Hey...Rick was it?” you nodded to the woman “Glad to see you got some use out of that rifle.” It took a moment for it to dawn on Rick who you were, at which he couldn’t contain his chuckle at your overly friendly attitude.

“I didn’t recognise you with all that filth on your face, then again I never got your name.”

“I have reasons to prefer it that way,” you smiled at him.

“Look, can you leave those blanks? We need to camp here for the night.” He asked, not putting his gun down, but you didn’t judge.

“I need the wood,”

“Let’s just kill her” the man spoke up, stepping closer then visually wincing. You looked him over quickly and noticed his leg was bleeding badly.

“Your hurt,” you spoke, locking eyes with the man. After a glance over the rest of them, it seemed they had been through a war. Maybe that’s why they decided to stay “I can help with that if you let me. I have a safe house not too far from here.” you said, nodding to the man behind Rick. “In return you guys just gotta help me carry up some planks to make a fire.”

“No” the woman behind Rick spoke.

“Yes,” Rick interjected. He turned to his group, his back to you which seemed to make them trail their weapons on your head. You took a step back for their sake. “If she says she can patch Daryl up then she can.”

“Why do you trust her?” the woman asked, not taking her eyes or aim off of you for a second.

“It’s a long story,” he whispered “But we’re cold and exposed out here. So I say we take her up on the offer.”

“Can I go back to getting my wood now?” you interrupted them. “It’s getting late and it’s hard to navigate in the dark”

“Yeah,” Rick said, turning back to you. You turned and started pulling the planks off the windows, now with Rick’s help. The other two took a moment to join you too, pulling a couple planks off the wall. Between yourself and Rick you had a few days worth of wood, while the woman was busy helping the second man who was limping. You lead them down to an old red-brick building, leading them to the entrance to the basement.

“It’s ten flours up,” you said, unlocking the gate and motioning the group to go down. “You’ll sleep like babies after.” Once inside the planks were offloaded onto you to carry the second man up the floors. Once on your floor, you dropped the planks onto the ground, finding an oil-lamp in the moonlight and turning it on. The group looked even more exhausted now. You held out the lamp to Rick and nodded to the door to your left. “My bed’s in there. Get him laid out. I’ll be on the roof.” he took the lamp from you. You grabbed two planks and walked past them “Don’t take my food there’s not enough” you called as you passed them.

You opened up the roof, finding what was left of your garden, some plastic boxes collecting snow, and a fire pit you had jerry-rigged out of a sheet of metal, an old lamp, and a punch of wire hangers twirled to suspend a pot that had filled with snow. You grabbed the hatchet you had found from it’s space by the door and got the filling from your bag and started a fire using a lighter. As it burned you went back to the entrance way to the roof, where you kept the bucket of guts for your walker gear and a small cupboard with clean clothes in it and some pieces of cloth. By the time you had peeled off the layers, the snow had turned to water. You poured some out into a neighbouring pot full of snow, cooling it.

As you were washing the gunk off your skin and out of your hair you heard the door open. It was the woman. “I’m so sorry” she yelped, closing the door.

“What is it?” you yelled just before she closed it again.

“We were wondering what was taking you” she answered. “You didn’t mention you were bathing.” you wiped the blood from your arms, your skin reacting to the sudden heat and cold.

“There’s a pot on the stove in my kitchen. Can you bring it up?” you called. She replied positively before fully closing the door. By the time she came back you were fully clean and redressed in some red pants, a black shirt, a yellow hoodie, and a pair of slip-on shoes you’d designated as your house shoes. She held the pot from behind the door, you walked over and opened the door, finding her with her eyes closed. “I’m dressed,” you said, taking the pot. You got some snow from the bins and emptied the last of the water into the new pot. You picked it up.

“I’m Tara, by the way” she spoke up as you walked back towards her.

“I didn’t ask” you replied, walking past her “close the door” you were down one flight of stairs with her behind you when you stopped short, looking over your shoulder. “Sorry, it’s just...safer to not exchange names.” Tara nodded at you

“No, I get it.” she smiled at you meekly. The two of you continued down the stairs. “How do you know Rick?”

“I tried to kill him,” you said plainly, pushing your door open to see Rick and the other man, now sitting on the couch. “I thought I told you the bed.” You said, putting the pot of hot water on the coffee table. “Where’s the wound?”

“His calf,” Rick replied, watching you walk into the kitchen. You threw open one of the presses and to the shock of the other three, it was over flowing with medical supplies. You grabbed a familiar first-aid kid, a bottle of antibiotics, some bandage, and gauze.

“Great. Take off your pants.” You unintentionally slammed the doors closed “Or just roll up the leg of your jeans. Either way, I need a look at it.” The man bent over and rolled up the jean leg.

“Where did you find all that stuff?” Rick asked. You picked up the man’s leg and placed it on the coffee table, shoving the pant leg up.

“Around” you replied as you cleaned the matted blood from the wound. It was a rather deep cut and it didn’t look good. “You’re gonna need stitches, and I’m gonna have to open it up more.”

“The hell you mean open it up more!” The man shouted

“To make sure it’s clean, numb-nuts. How’d you get this?”

“We jumped out of an office window” Tara spoke up. “Daryl got caught on the fire escape.” Now that made you laugh. That fragile-looking man, that baby-faced girl, and this rough-looking redneck is the one that gets hurt.

“Old steal.” you signed dramatically “I gotta clean it properly.” you spoke, opening the first aid kit to show it full of medical tools. Mainly single-use tweezers and scissors. You took some scissors and cut up some gauze, “It’s gonna hurt. Need a towel to bite on?” you asked, using a pair of tweezers to pick up the gaze and soak it in the steaming water.

“Fuck you” Daryl cursed. You positioned your free hand over the wound, pushing it open slightly, causing him to wince.

“As you wish” you cut back before focusing on cleaning the wound. He took it like a champ and you had him bandaged in no time. You dumped the water out the window when you were done. You laughed to yourself as it hit a walker and he grumbled up at you. You didn’t pay attention to their conversation until they pulled you into it.

“How many walkers have you killed?” Rick called over to you. You closed the window and walked back into the sitting room of the apartment,

“Why?”

“Please just answer the question,” Rick spoke quietly. You leaned against a hall and took a deep breath

“I don’t know... a lot”

“How many people have you killed?” he asked. You thought on it a moment and remembered the lady you sent a walker on back at Sanctuary

“One”

“Why?”

“She tried to kill me first”

The three of them looked amongst themselves as if reading each other’s minds. “We have a place-”

“No” you stopped Rick, knowing what was coming next. “I am not going to your camp, and you're not staying here. Tomorrow morning you will leave, and I will stay,” you spoke firmly

“It’s not a camp,” Tara spoke up from where she was sitting on the couch next to Daryl. “It’s a community. We have walls.”

“I’m not going” you spoke slowly, making sure every word was heard. You pushed off the wall and walked past the living area towards your bedroom. “Next door is my library. There’s another bed and a couch. Just don’t take my shit.” you closed the door and locked it for good measure. ‘They’ll take my supplies’ you thought as you crawled into bed, pulling the blankets as closely around you as possible, ‘but they won’t take me’.

The following morning you woke to see your patient out cold on your couch, with his friends on the floor covered in the blankets from the library. It was still dark out, as expected in the winter season, but you still wanted them gone. You walked past him to your door, remembering you’d left your bag on the roof. Everything up there was still in its place too.

Back in your apartment, you prepared a wonderful breakfast; half a can of soup, and some seed mix in a bowl. It tasted like crap but you knew it would fill you for the next while. “Thought you said there was no food” Daryl piped up from the couch. You turned your back to him.

“Not enough for more people” you retorted, slurping down your cold soupy-seedy mix.

“How long have you been out here?” He asked.

“Some time” you said through gulps

“Where were you before this?”

“Someplace else” you snapped, scraping the last of the mix into your mouth. Silence fell for a moment.

“Why did you help us?” he asked. You looked down into the old metal sink as if it had the answers. You used to do the same with the neck of a vodka bottle at sanctuary. They never had the answers. ‘Old soldiers don’t forget their training?’ you thought

“I don’t know” is what you said.

The other two woke not long after. Rick looked at your cabinet than at you before approaching you. Before he could speak you opened it up and pulled out two changes of bandages. “For Daryl,” you said, “Now get out.”

Three days later you were coming back to your home from another run, finding some clothes and chocolate powder but no food. With the seeds, you could stretch your rations to another week but it was still tight. That was when you saw a small pile of cans in front of your door. Eight in total. Soups, peas, beans, apple sauce. Among the cans, you found a small note. ‘From Alexandria’ it read. You thought of the ramifications that might have to your security and how that they’ll probably pay a price for not having enough food for your father this week, then one of the tins read /FAVOURITE SOUP/ and your stomach won over, demanding you to start a fire this minute and warm that can of delicious right up!

You were grateful for the first time. Alarmed the second time. Tired of it by the third time. They would come every week with cans and tins of food. When you expected the next delivery ‘from Alexandra’ you stayed home, sitting on the floor watching the door. The sun had been up a while and you were certain they weren’t coming when you heard heavy steps, followed by the sound of tin knocking off each other. You opened the door quickly, startling the delivery man in the process.

“Howdy, Bow Boy” you spoke to Daryl who had the bow pointed at your face. “What’re you doing?” Daryl slid his crossbow back into place.

“ugh...Feeding ya?” he said, a little embarrassed about getting caught. “I figured you’d be out, scavenging.”

“I usually am but some homeless-looking guy keeps bringing me food” you smiled sarcastically.

“Well he sounds like a gentleman,” he said, picking up the cans and offering one to you.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, closing your eyes in annoyance.

“You need it,” he spoke plainly. You pushed your door open and motioned for him to follow.

“Put the cans on the coffee table” you said, going to your medical supplies and pulling some things out and placing them on the counter. “I am not taking any more charity. We are going to trade.” He looked over what you were pulling out.

“Are you sure?” he asked. You nodded sternly.

“You ain’t leaving me short, so I ain’t gonna leave you short. That’s the terms.” you held out your hand to him. “Deal?”

You parted with a lot of medical supplies, some soaps, two blankets, and a box of cutlery. You would have given him more but he couldn’t fit any more in his bag. You’d just have to find him better stuff next time.

Riding into the Sanctuary on his bike, Daryl was greeted by some saviours. He emptied his bag, claiming to have found the pieces. Everyone was overjoyed at the supplies and the fresh blankets went to Rodney and his new-born. Heading back to his quarters he was approached by Lauren. “Daryl! Daryl, it happened again. Some asshole robbed some of our cans”

~ Tag List ~

@softsebastian

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heavenunderthemoon · 4 years

Text

Growing Pains- Spencer Reid x Reader {Chapter Two}

Prologue, Chapter one

The newly acquired I.D. badge battered her hip as y/n entered the bullpen, the heavy glass door shutting with a 'click' behind her.

It was as hectic as it normally was on a Wednesday on the Behavioral Analysis Unit's floor. Clerical agents walked to and fro amongst the sea of desks and strangely enough, rather than being overwhelmed by the vast amount of bustle before her, the newly entered female's lips quirked a bit at the corners at the constant foot traffic.

She hadn't heard him, Spencer thought with reassurance. Of course she hadn't heard him. A whisper, your name dancing across his tongue in a moment of surprise as you had entered, lost into the wind, floating into the abyss that was the sixth floor of the federal building, only heard to the small group surrounding him.

But not to you. Not to the woman whose eyes had sharp swept the room, passing over him with ease. A small part of him was struck with a small horrific thought: Was he forgettable? Forgettable enough that you had forgotten him entirely, all those years of whispered secrets, tree climbing, and treasure burying? All the years that you had knocked on his front door, bidding his mother a hello regardless of the mood she was in, strutting into his room until you flopped onto his floor (even if he was okay with pinky promises, slow dances, and arms thrown over his shoulder he never could allow you to sit on his bed and you were okay with that). Had you erased him from your memory?

And then another terrible, stomach-twisting, nausea-inducing thought struck next: Did you recognize him and simply steel yourself to appear ad if you hadn't? Did you not want to recognize him? The fizzling of your friendship had been neutral, he could remember that clearly. His mind wouldn't allow anything different. His mind had been haunting him all morning and it taunted him once more, sucking him into the last conversation he could recall the two of you sharing.

"Hold on, Spencer," Your father's gruff voice asked the boy, and the Reid boy nodded despite the man not being able to see him. Your father always had that affect on him. The hard stares, narrowed eyes, stiff posture; It all told the Reid boy that the man lived in a cloud of suspicion around his relationship with you. Friendship, Spencer corrected himself mentally, cheeks heating up at the mere thought of anything more.

There was shuffling on the other end of the phone, your father yelling for you to hurry up and the sound of your loud footsteps. He could close his eyes, imagining precisely what your movements would be. He could see you clamoring down the stairs, jumping halfway down the staircase because you were a bit too impatient to actually walk down them all the way. He could see you rounding the corner, the way your hand would use the bannister as a device to twist yourself around the corner, coming into the eye line of your father. He could see all the forgotten work boots and soccer cleats that lay discarded near your kitchen door (your brothers were awful at putting them away and your father hardly cared enough to tell them not to. Even you had a pair of sneakers propped against the baseboards.).

"It's Spencer." Your father said in that tone he used with the boy, saying his name similar to how Spencer might have said he had found a bug on his shoe- petulant and irritated- and suddenly he was opening his eyes back up, grateful to be in that stuffy phonebooth, the hot sun beating through the tempered glass window panes.

"Sherlock?" Your voice sounded different, he decided immediately. Deeper, but not by too much. He wondered if you had grown in the time between your last sighting of eachother (a full year, at this point). He wondered if your hair was longer- before he left, you had convinced yourself that cutting your own hair was a good idea. You had been obsessed with the Bangles and Susanna's bangs were the peak of your hyper-fixation. He had tried to talk you out of it, but, you were, well, you. You were a 'do first, think second 'person. You always had been. You had been when you broke your arm in the fifth grade deciding to make the leap from your roof to your father's truck bed (It was much farther than you had estimated). You had been when you kept the fish you had won from a carnival (Pickles the Fish had not lasted very long in the Y/L/N household, his bowl a bit too close to the cat's resting place). And you were when you had stood in your bathroom, Spencer sitting on the bathtub's ledge as he covered his eyes, his green orbs peaking out from open fingers, watching as you chopped your hair with kitchen scissors.

"Watson." The nickname, one he hadn't spoken in what seemed like ages flowed freely from his lips. He remembered when he had first introduced you to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. how you had leant against him underneath the shade of that old Willow tree at the end of the block. Your head on his leg, his own propped up on the trunk of that tree. Your initials were carved onto it- Spencer's idea, surprisingly, and it showed by the sloppiness of that carving because his mother hardly ever let him near knives. And under the shade of that tree, the wind whistling through the barren branches he had read, hardly stumbling over the large words before him and even if you didn't quite understand everything he was saying you listened because this was one of the few times he didn't stutter- not once.

"You were supposed to call last night." You said sullenly. It was true. You had scheduled your call times for at least once a month on the third Wednesday of each month. It was the only days you got out of school early, early enough to catch him when he wasn't in lecture or seminars or library study sessions.

The boy's eyes flickered down to his shoes. Sneakers- you would be proud. He had never worn Converse before. He was lucky if his mother remembered to buy groceries, let alone new shoes and the boy found himself grabbing the cheapest pair at Salvation army's and Thrift Stores. He had seen the chucks on you often enough, how free you looked when you ran across the desert roads, shoes against pavement. And now, away from home he had splurged and gotten a pair, a small piece of you, a small piece of home.

"I know, I'm sorry. I got caught up in my book-"

You sighed and Spencer could tell you were wishing he had a better excuse. A better excuse than getting lost in the pages of something he could've read later. Something he could have set aside for time spent talking to you. But, because it was you, he knew you wouldn't say that. You wouldn't express your feelings because you had never really been good at that unless it was also followed with a swift punch to the gut.

"I'm sorry." He settled, and just like that you were telling him about the current events in his hometown, how his mother was, how the boys that had once chased him through the halls were finding themselves after graduating, but he could tell a shift in your tone, a loss of trust, and a pang of hurt.

"Spencer. Spencer." JJ's voice made the Reid man glance up from where he had been staring at you- or where you had been? A quick glance around the room had him planting his eyes on your moving figure. Your boots made swift, definite steps across the bullpen, eyes focused solely on Hotch's door until you reached it.

"You know her?" JJ asked and, apparently, it was just a repeated question because Spencer could tell that the agents surrounding him were staring at him intently, analyzing the way his cheeks had flushed, skin paling, eyes widening at just the mere appearance of the woman that was now entering the Unit Chief's office.

Spencer tried to think of what to say. 'You know her?'

Did he?

Did he know you? Or had he known you? The two were very different. He had known you before. before those promises set in stone by pinkies were broken and before he had outgrown that necklace you had given him all those years ago. He had known you when you had told him your 'happy place' was the beach and when Spencer had very expertly questioned how that could possibly be as you had never even been to a beach before, you had glared at him until he took it back.

And you had known him. You had known him when he was forced to ride on your bike's handlebars whenever he wanted to go the library (Your bike had a basket that he could fit all of his books on and his did not). You knew him when he broke that snow globe in the cornerstone that one holiday season, how his face had morphed into one of horror at the idea of getting into trouble. You knew how you had taken the fault for that incident, hating how the boy's hands had started shaking when the storeowner had asked who had done it.

You had known each other, sure. but did he know you?

His eyes watched your hand go out to shake Hotch's, the smile on your lips enough to make him want to faint, the mere weight of his memories pulling at his brain.

"Kid? Kid, you really don't look good." Morgan was expressing his concerns and Spencer had half a mind to tell him that the reason he might not look so good was because he was, in fact, not good. He was not good because this was one of the few times in his life that his past caught up to the present. When he was forced to relive those memories from so long ago, from a time that he tried to keep very, very separate from the now. A time that he had all but run from, packing his belongings in that teeny-tiny duffel bag (you had helped him pick it out, he realized with a frown) and boarded that bus to Cal-Tech.

"I'm-" Fine? Spencer didn't have a clue what he would say, which, he would suppose would be a first, but the embarrassment that would have caused was halted because the Unit Chief's door was opening and Aaron Hotchner was extending a hand to you, as if showing you off and the team was standing, like a crowd waiting to see the newest performer.

And there you were, your front finally facing him. Your eyes were that same, chocolate-y brown color that he could feel himself getting lost in. They held that same sharpness, that fierceness in your eyes that Spencer had seen directed always at those who tried to mess him and never at he, himself. A fierceness that had hardly needed the support of your quick tongue and curled fists but received it anyways. A watch on your wrist glinted, the leather worn and sun-soaked. Even from where he sat, his vision minority blocked from Derek's muscular body standing in the way, Spencer could see the familiar material, the government-issued time-piece recognized by the team of agents immediately.

Had you served time in the military? Spencer would've guessed so, if not for the go-bag in your hand displaying the military insignia, but the way your shoulders were poised back, pin straight and at attention. Or the way your eyes swept the floor, checking doors, windows, standard procedure. Where had you been? Spencer asked himself. What had you seen? What had you done? Without him, he tacked on as an afterthought, because maybe if he had kept on top of the friendship, stoked those withering flames of your relationship, things might've turned out differently. He wouldn't be sinking into his chair as Hotch pointed out to the floor, introducing each member.

"...And you can meet everybody. Everybody, this is Y/N L/N. Y/n, this is Jennifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Penelope Garcia, and Spencer Reid."

And just like that, the fierceness was gone. The rigidity, the stoic-like confidence, the intimidating stance, and Spencer could just about see the girl who had cut her hair with those kitchen scissors, the shock on your face and locks on the floor. It was all gone and your eyes were searching the crowd of agents just introduced to you and when they landed on the one you had been searching for, that lanky figure that looked so much like the one you had thought you would never see again, your lips parted in shock.

"Spencer?"

#spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds #jennifer jareau x reader #emily prentiss x reader

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thorniest-rose · 4 years

Text

reddie halloween prompt #4 candy

It all happens in the small pocket of time between advanced math and the dirge of gym. Jimmy’s dragging his heels, hanging back in the bathrooms on the second floor, trying to delay the inevitable jeers of all the boys in his class. As they mock him for his weak knees and his protruding ribs, pinging their towels at him and asking him how small his dick is, if it’s even big enough to get hard.

But Jimmy knows it’s coming. After years of falling victim for his chronic acne, and his high-pitched voice, for sometimes just existing, he’s come to expect it.

What he doesn’t expect is to be cornered by Richie Tozier, the weird loudmouth with the dark eyes and the wide grin, who laughed like a jackal at his own vulgar jokes and could outsmart all of their teachers without trying.

Jimmy hadn’t spoken to Richie in more than two years, had done nothing to warrant the boy’s wrath. So he doesn’t know why he’s here now, wedged back against the window as Richie grins down at him. The wacky kid with buck teeth and bottle glasses who had somehow transformed into this tall, moody, striking teen with the cheekbones that could cut glass. Who all the girls secretly looked at as he walked down the hallway.

He asks, “W-what do you want, Richie?”

Richie grins at him like they’re friends. “I just thought we could catch up, Jimmy. I’ve seen you hanging out with your new girlfriend.”

Jimmy swallows hard. Was that what this was about?

“Oh yeah…”

“Oh yeah,” Richie mocks. “What, you think no one had noticed? That one of the hottest girls at school is suddenly hanging off your dick and no one would say anything?”

Jimmy shrugs, but his mouth has gone bone dry. He’d been dating Cindy for the last three weeks and it had sent ripples through school. Everyone was shocked. That someone as beautiful and popular as Cindy would even talk to a guy like Jimmy, let alone fall head over heels for him. At lunchtime she now ditched all her friends to sit in a corner of the cafeteria with him, and after school walked home with his hand in hers. At the weekend, they got ice cream and walked to the lake and sat in his backyard, and the entire time she looked at him with her big blue eyes, and told him she never wanted anything else.

“It’s just curious, that’s all,” Richie continues, eyes glinting. “Pretty sure she hated your fucking guts a few months ago.”

“Things change, Richie.”

“Is that right,“ he replies, his dark eyebrows raised mockingly.

And Jimmy’s had enough. He gets enough shit from jock assholes as it is, without a weird fucking kid like Richie joining in.

“Richie, I really have to get to class. Gym is starting and if I’m late-”

Richie pushes him back against the wall with one hand to his chest. The skin on the back of his hand is mottled, scarred, and Jimmy’s chest tightens. The skin looks like it was run over with a sheet of barbed wire.

“Hold your horses,” Richie says, “we haven’t finished catching up yet.”

Jimmy blurts, “Are you… are you jealous or something?”

“Nice try, dipshit, but no, I’m not jealous that you’re with a blonde airhead like Cindy. I need to know how you did it.”

Jimmy feels the bottom drop out of his stomach.

“What?”

“Come on,” Richie says, his mouth unfurling into a slow, smoky grin, “don’t wuss out on me now.”

“Cindy has feelings for me.”

Richie barks and rolls his eyes. "Unless you’re seriously packing down there, I doubt that.”

“I mean it, we have a real connection.”

The good humour drops from Richie’s face.

“Bullshit,” he hisses, making Jimmy flinch. “I know you did something. No way would she even fucking look at a little creep like you if you hadn’t done something to her. So you’re either paying her, but I know your parents are piss poor so it’s not that. Maybe you’re blackmailing her, but you’re too pussy for that too. So it has to be something else.”

“What do you mean?” Jimmy splutters, feeling like he’s going to wet himself.

He’d heard things about Richie over the last few years. That he got his scars from some unknown childhood trauma, that he’d been kidnapped and tortured by a crazy man. Jimmy didn’t know how true any of that was, but he couldn’t deny the mad glint in Richie’s eyes. That his smiles were always slightly too manic to be good-natured. That when he laughed it sent chills through him.

“Are you going to beat me up? Tell Cindy? Try to reverse the spell?”

He regrets it the second it’s out his mouth, but Richie’s eyes shine, like he’d guessed the twist in a movie before everyone else.

“I knew it,” he says.

Panic grips Jimmy; it catapults him halfway across the bathroom, but Richie is too fast for him. Before he can make it to the door, he feels a hand on his backpack and a second later he’s being thrown back towards the sinks. He crashes back, stumbling, and almost falls to the floor. And Richie just stares at him, a dead heat lighting up his eyes. One brown and one blue.

“Please, let me go, Richie,” Jimmy says, half crumpled against the sinks. He cringes at the whimpering note in his voice, how close he sounds to begging.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why? Are you going to blackmail me?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“What do you want? I don’t have anything to give you. I don’t have money.”

Richie’s lips draw back in a snarl. “Are you really that fucking stupid? I’m here because I want you to do it for me too.”

Jimmy blinks at him. He didn’t think Richie would have any problems with girls. Not with the way they had started to look at him.

His mind flicks through the girls in their year, tries to settle on anyone Richie might like. But he’d never seen Richie pay attention to any girls he knew. Come to think of it, he didn’t think Richie ever had a girlfriend.

“You do…? On who?”

Richie doesn’t hesitate as he says, “Eddie Kaspbrak.”

Jimmy feels his mouth drop open. He says, “You’re… you’re a fag?”

Richie’s face goes dark, and Jimmy’s vision blacks out as Richie’s fist smashes into the side of his mouth. He staggers back, his head cracking against the wall, and distantly he hears himself cry out as a searing bolt of pain shoots through his skull.

When he comes to, his vision blotting hazily at the corners, Richie’s wiping his bloody knuckles against his jeans.

“Maybe we should try that again,” he says, tone mild, like he hadn’t just punched Jimmy in the face. “But if you say that fucking word one more time, I’ll push you out the window.”

Jimmy’s eyes prickle hot as the blood drips down his mouth. He thinks he might cry.

Richie notices and he sneers at him. “God, you’re such a fucking pussy. I could do a lot worse than that, you know.”

“I don’t know if I can do the spell again.”

And he didn’t. Jimmy had found the spell in an old tome he’d found in a dark basement bookstore two towns over. A place he heard whispers about. He hadn’t even thought the spell would work. But it had. He’d walked out of his house the next morning and Cindy had been on his doorstep, so happy and eager to see him Jimmy initially thought it had been a joke. But it hadn’t. She was besotted.

Richie looks unamused as he pulls an old lighter out of his pocket.

“You better remember,” he says, as he flicks it on, the orange flame making Jimmy jump. “Or I’ll have to help you jog your memory.”

“I… I guess I could try,” he mumbles as he watches the flame burn in Richie’s hand.

Richie shakes his head. “You’ll need to do better than that.” He flicks the lighter off and on again. “Have you been burned before? I read once that being set on fire is the most excruciating pain you can ever feel. I wonder if Cindy will still feel the same about you if she can’t recognise you. Spell or no spell.”

Desperation claws at Jimmy’s throat and he quickly blurts, “Okay, I’ll do it, I will.”

Richie flicks the lighter off. “Good,” he says.

And a part of Jimmy, though surprised, gets it, because Eddie was beautiful. Over the last year he’d blossomed from a sick little boy into something slender and sweet, with long tanned legs and the thickest lashes Jimmy had ever seen. There was a rumour going around school that Eddie was prettier than most girls, and that they all hated him for it. Not that he seemed to notice. He went to his classes and ran with the track team, and was always quiet and serene, apart from the times he saw Richie. When his expression went icy and his tone turned brittle.

Jimmy still can’t help but ask, “Why him?”

"Because he’s everything,” Richie replies.

Jimmy doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead he says, “I’ll need something of his. For the spell to bind to him.”

“No problem.”

Richie takes a small locket of dark hair out of his pocket. Jimmy stares at it. He doesn’t want to know how Richie got it. How he already had it on him.

“There are risks, I need you to know that,” he says as Richie hands it to him.

Richie just stares at him, looking bored. “I don’t really care.”

“But it might not work. Or it could go wrong. Sometimes these spells… sometimes they don’t turn out the way we expect them to.”

And Jimmy was telling the truth. He’d heard some terrible things. Sometimes the spell didn’t take, and sometimes it took too well, driving the enchanted lover to the edges of hysteria, so obsessed with the object of their affections that they couldn’t eat or sleep. That they couldn’t function without being with the person who had cast the spell.

“Just do whatever it takes,” Richie says, his brown eye so dark it looked almost black. “I want him to be crazy for me. So crazy that he needs me, all the time. I don’t want him to think of anything else but me. Got it?”

“Got it,” Jimmy says quietly. And for some reason he feels ashamed.

He jumps again when he feels Richie clap his hand down on his shoulder.

“There we go, that wasn’t so hard was it? You have a week. Or I’ll tell everyone what you’ve done. And your cute new girlfriend won’t be able to stand the sight of you.” He grins at Jimmy. "Sound good?”

“Yeah,“ Jimmy says, head nodding stupidly even as his stomach churns. “Sounds good.”

“Cool, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

On his way out, Richie gestures to Jimmy’s nose. “You might want to clean that up by the way. Get a cotton bud up there.”

In the silence following Richie’s departure, Jimmy stares at himself in the mirror and doesn’t recognise the pale, pleading face staring back at him. He thinks he might be sick, but instead he mops up the blood oozing from his nose and goes to gym.

A week later, he hides around a corner as he watches Richie hand Eddie the candy: a little bag of pink love hearts knotted at the top with a ribbon. Inside, one of the love hearts is special. Nestled inside the sugar is a drop of lamb’s blood, crushed belladonna, and the membrane of a baby bird. The potion Jimmy had made and injected into the candy the night before, the potion that would turn Eddie’s blood molten for Richie.

Eddie asks, "Why, Richie?"

"Can’t I treat you, baby?” Richie replies.

“Don’t call me that please.”

Eddie looks at the candy dubiously at first, but eventually he can’t resist, and he takes it from Richie with a mumbled thanks.

Jimmy has a thought of ducking round the corner and running down the hall, slapping the candy from Eddie’s hands just in time, of saving him. But he doesn’t. Because he’s a coward. So he hangs back and watches instead. Watches as Eddie takes the special love heart, the one that’s pinker and plumper than the rest, and pops it into his mouth.

The change is instantaneous. Eddie’s body goes suddenly taut, as if his limbs are being pulled together by a string, and his eyes go bright and glossy as he stares up at Richie. The frown between his eyes melts away, and in its place his expression softens, his mouth pink and lax as he mouths Richie’s name.

Jimmy feels like he’s going to throw up. He spins around and starts walking away just as he hears Eddie say, “Richie,” like he’s seeing the other boy for the first time. Like Richie is a bright, burning sphere of sunshine in an endless night. He walks down the hallway and all the way home. Tosses and turns all night with half-snatched dreams.

And the next day, when he comes across the two boys making out in the woods, Eddie’s mouth so wet and red as Richie bites at it, his hands grabbing as Eddie through his jeans while the smaller boy gasps, Jimmy doesn’t do anything. And when Richie’s eyes meet his over Eddie’s head, swimming with mirth, and something like greed, Jimmy stumbles and runs. He runs and runs, and not once does he ever think to look back.

#reddie #reddie drabbles #halloween reddie #love spells #tw dark richie #tw obsession #tw no consent #tw violence #tw homophobic language

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nebula-jazz · 4 years

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Fictober prompt 28

ROTTMNT Donatello x reader

Note: Sorry I have been gone for so long! I have been wrapped up in school and I also know that this isn't my normal fandom... This is completely self indulgent because he popped on my feed on youtube and he was my first comfort character. And now I found ROTTMNT and I got hit in the face by my best friend on exactly my type... Intelligent, gremlin, cocky, and emotionally unavailable... So this is a complete callout to everyone who has the same type no matter the gender and please enjoy this drabble. And fully expect on several different fandom releases on Halloween including a oneshot for His World. But enough of my rambling! To the story!

You had been in quarantine for nearly an entire year and now your favorite month had been ruined by the hussle and the bustle of your closest aunt asking you to come to New York. Her explanation was that she was taken ill and she needed someone to look after the house and your youngest cousin April O’Neil, much to your distaste.

It was not that you hated your youngest cousin, opposite in fact you adored her, but you two never exactly saw eye to eye on most things. You two were so close up until about five or six years ago and then she changed and you felt as if for the worst. This change caused you both to drift apart.

Since she was your only friend and family member that got you; this distance caused you swirling into an unhealthy mind set. And you got caught up with the wrong people at the worst time in your life as your younger brother disappeared and your mom got distant.

Which lead you here, packing all research that you had gathered over the past few months since the shredder accident, your Bo staff, and other essential items. Taking the time to slide the delicate frames of your glasses up every few minutes. Your boss Baxter had called you a few minutes ago saying that he set you up an apartment and a plane to New York and expected you be ready for training with Rocksteady as soon as you landed. Thinking about it made you flinch.

Grabbing the metal case with your research, your duffel with clothes and toiletries, and your backpack filled with snacks your Bo and training clothes you headed down stairs. You kissed your mom on the head who was on the phone at the couch; gently leaving a large stack of cash that should last her awhile. You slipped out the front door and slid into a sleek car that Baxter had sent for you.

During the car ride you stayed silent, typing away at your computer, jotting down the breakthrew that you had made. Your specific specialty in his company was the idea of spirits and how to harness them, extract them, and even switch with them. Baxter had found out about you and what people and even yourself, at the time, believed as a silly project about four years ago. You had proven that spirits were real and that there was a possibility to do something with them.

He accelerated you through highschool and college, easily making you apart of a team and gave you everything that you needed for your research. You honestly didn’t care what he would do with it as soon as you had perfected everything in your now extensive project. All you cared about was getting your mom and brother back and he promised to keep the investigation open if you handed all research over to him as soon as you were done.

You barely slept on the plane. Fear creeping up your spine and turned your veins icey as you mulled over what was waiting for you when you landed. The training with Rocksteady was not normal. As he was a huge hog and the training was to get you faster, but it would inevitably end with a concussion and a broken bone as it normally would. Then Baxter would inject you with some green liquid that, yes would accelerate the healing process and you would no longer have any broken bones, but it would feel like your entire body was on fire and your back feeling like it was being ripped to shreds.

You eventually drifted into a fitful sleep. You felt like you had barely closed your eyes before you were woken up by the gentle but cold hand of Baxter. You were in a car now just outside of headquarters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh MAh Gawd! Y/N! What happened to you?!” You winced at the worried yell that came from April. You had just gotten released from the lab and your head was pounding from the lack of food and water.

“Just a little scuffle just outside the office. Don’t worry about it.” You croaked out and offered a, what you hoped to be, a reassuring smile. You tried to swallow against the sandpapery walls of your throat.

You felt her soft but calloused hands cup your face as she looked at you. You winced as she prodded at the dark bruises on your jaw and forehead. She lead you to the kitchen where she started to clean the bruises and cuts up.

After several cups of water and an entire pizza, which you had devoured, she was now questioning you.

“So you are working for Baxter?” she asked, you gave her a quizzical look as you swallowed another bite of the second pizza that she had ordered. You had heard the slight tremor of fear in her voice and now it set you on edge.

“Yeah..” You answered slowly and pulled out your laptop. “He is funding my research. Take a look.”

You pushed the computer over and let her skim through the many pages of work as you dumbed down what she was reading.

“So... what you are saying is that you could put someone in a comatose state and do whatever you wanted to them but at the same time you can still talk to them in a spiritual state?” she summarized. With a soft smile you nodded, your eyes heavy from the long two days you had.

“However there are some side effects. With the trials that I ran at home it is extremely difficult to put them back in and more often than not their mind can completely erase one or multiple people from their memory. They will always remember the time they were, what I call, Ghost. There are still kinks in it but i'm pretty sure in this state there is a possibility to redirect this targeted amnesia to get rid of trauma.” You said excitedly.

She gave you a terrified look and excused herself and ran out the front door into the dim light of the dawn. You felt like you had been punched in the gut. Tears formed in your eyes and you fought down the urge to sob and throw up your food. You slammed the computer closed and stormed into the guest bedroom. You had honestly thought that she was going to be proud of you. She seemed genuinely excited about your research. But it was April, you shouldn’t have expected anything less from her.

A few weeks drifted by lazily and October was slipping through your fingertips. April was avoiding you, especially after you caught her in the act of trying to steal your laptop. So today, as a way to get away from the dreariness of the apartment and the fearful glances of April you were in the lab. You were in a loose hoodie and had a stack of pizza boxes next to you along with a large jug of water on your other side. You had just gotten done with another training session and were now working on a new test. it had gotten dark out and Rocksteady had volunteered for the new test.

You scraped your hand roughly through your hair in frustration as the program refused to start for the third time. You huffed in frustration, and looked up in alarm as the security alarms started to go off. You heard an explosion from behind you. Reaching down and grabbing your Bo you didn’t notice the jug being knocked over causing the computer to go haywire. You panicked as you tried to shut down the computer and the large machine pointed at whatever caused the explosion.

However you were too late to stop it from going off once you were able to press the emergency shut off just in time to prevent it from happening again. You heard a shout and roars from Rocksteady. you tried to reach for your more enhanced staff but were swiftly knocked out. All you saw as the world started to darken was green and a ghostly purple figure.

~~~~~~~~

That was a couple of days ago. You were now with 6 foot tall turtle ninjas. They had explained, with the help of April, what Baxter was going to do with your research. The person that you had shot was their brother Donatello. The genus out of the group who was allowing you to use his lab as you tried desperately to keep his body stable and fix his state with what little tools you had.

Your own paranoia had shot through the roof as any fast movement caused you to flinch very heavily. You and Donnie had found out that Baxter was injecting you with mutagen after a nightmare filled night caused wings to sprout from your back.

You stayed away from the other three turtles and only finding solace with Donatello. You both could ramble on and on about different projects you both were working on and the other would listen intently.

You hadn’t noticed how comfortable or how hard you had fallen until you reached the end stages of completing the ray that would make him right.

Neither of you two had noticed that you had started to flirt with each other. But everyone else knew and were eagerly waiting for him to return to normal. They were excited to see him finally kiss you and actually take you out on that date that he had been teasing you for a month with. April was happy to see you smiling again.

You didn’t realize how much you loved him or he you until you both were going over some of your note s to make sure everything was in order.

It was the end of November, just before thanksgiving. Donnie was excitedly telling you that he had been working on a surprise for you with Shelldon. That he wanted to give it you in person. And that he was excited to finally eat something instead of just watching everyone else eat. He was also rambling on how he was totally going to spar with you.

“i'm excited to finally get an infamous hug from you Don!” You chuckled barely paying attention to the notes and more on him. He laughed and he floated closer to you.

“I’m excited to give you one Angel.” he said cheekily. You glared lightly at him and the nickname that he gave you after your wings came to be.

You however stopped in your tracks as you read the small but major detail that you had mentioned to April all those weeks ago. The air ran from your lungs as a soft. “Oh.” escaped your lips.

“What?” he asked worried. He turned to the computer that had your notes on it and read through it and his face dropped. Tears welled in your eyes and the amount of hurt that ran through you was like that day that April ran.

And something inside of you knew, even as Donnie tried to think of anyone, anyone at all that he could possible forget, you knew it was going to be you. You stared at him tears running down your face and it was then you realized how hard you had fallen. And how much you will lose.

Two days before Thanksgiving was the day that was planned to fix him. You were in a room alone with his Ghost. You couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Here,” he said softly, and gestured for Shelldon to bring a small box forward. “This is for you... don’t open it until my eyes do.. ok?” He said leaning down and trying to catch your eye. You looked up at him, willing the tears back and smiled brightly.

“Will do Don! I will see you for that hug ok?” he smiles back softly and nods. He hovers his hand over your cheek, you lean into it until you feel the cool radiating off of him and you closed your eyes.

That unspoken ‘i love you’ rang through you head as you heard the machine wurr to life. You only stare at him as he floats by his sleeping body and you pray, you hope, and you plead to whatever god is listening. To allow you to have him, to allow him to remember you. As you slowly nod your head and you hear April press the button.

~~~~~~~

You try to stifle the sobs in your throat as you hear him and his brothers enjoy their thanksgiving meal that April and you had prepared for them. He didn’t recognize you as you sobbed in happiness when you saw his eyes open. He thought of you as a threat.

You carefully pulled out the small box as Shelldon floated beside you. You looked at him and he bobbed his head in acknowledgement. Slowly opening it you tried to steady your shaking hands. Inside was a locket, a bit larger than one you would find in a jewelry store. You carefully opened the locket and you saw a picture that you had taken with ghost Donnie and the music box version of your both favorite techno song. Engraved on the other half was the french translation of I love you. A loud sob ripped its way from your throat as you clutched it to your chest.

Donnie was leaning against the wall closest to where you had ran off too. He was watching his brothers laugh and eat with their father and April. He had heard sniffling from the tunnel and quietly escaped the celebration to see where it had came from. He was surprised to see you covering your mouth and Shelldon with you. He was going to call to his creation until you had looked at Shelldon and pulled out a velvet box.

He waited a moment, watching you open it and something inside. He had to nod his head to the song that played. He did not expect the loud sob or the wail that came out of you next. He heard his brothers stop laughing and heard a soft.

“They opened it...”

“Yeah...”

“Poor Y/N... I can’t imagine.”

“Why can’t we tell him my sons?’

“Because he wouldn’t believe us.”

“Yeah! And he already distrusts Y/N... and they asked us not too.”

“A broken heart is something that can kill my children. Especially with a love that deep.”

Donnie didn’t hear anymore from his family. And confusion seeped into him. What happened while he was out?

#rottmnt #donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello x reader #donatello x reader #april o'neil #x reader #tmnt

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parkerpeter24 · 4 years

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detestation

Pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

Warnings ➳ teenage drinking, mentions of sex, fluff, angst, you'll be surprised.

Prompt ➳ "I don't want to go"

This is a part of @farfromhaz's I love you 3000 writing challenge! Congratulations to you angel, you deserve it all and so much more. Secondly, I would like to say that this was inspired by a fic I read on Wattpad but it was deleted, so I rewrote it. I hope you enjoy this, love you ❤

“May!” Your mother squealed, May greeting her with an equally shrill squeal and a warm hug. You laughed and shook your head at the two elderly women in front of you. Your favourite thing about the weekly visit to the Parkers’ residence was seeing your mom laughing and enjoying herself after the excruciating, selfless weeks of her life. The main, as well as the only reason, that you joined her there most of the time.

“Hi May!” You greeted the brunette lady excitedly. She let the both of you inside, her and your mom already drowning in a conversation about some incident that happened a few days back at work, “Oh (Y/n), Peter’s in his room.” She notified you, being very oblivious to your situation.

You gave her a tight lipped smile, nodding your head, and turned to move towards the wooden door of Peter’s room, not before rolling your eyes at the mention of him.

The door opened with a promptness making Peter flinch. His head shot up from his desk to look at you, ignorant of his presence as you walked straight to his bed, plopped down and took out your phone, starting to scroll through it momentarily later, unlike the times you were at school, where you would brawl with each other any chance you got. He scoffed at you. Your head snapped up as your eyes squinted, “What’s so funny?” You threatened.

He chuckled, “You just —”

“Well, I don’t care.” You spat, interrupting him, “Look, it’s just another weekend. Let’s not fight and get it over with already.”

“Whatever” He shrugged. Your jaw clenched at his apathetic behaviour. You bit your tongue and took a deep breath to calm your nerves down. You couldn’t believe how easy it was for Peter to get under your skin.

Peter however, never knew the reason for you guys’ enmity towards each other. At first, you would always try to ignore him in school and he never understood why you were doing that. He even tried to make you like him, but you never showed interest, so he stopped trying. After that, it was constant commenting and bashing the other with words and actions. Rolling of eyes, scoffing and every expression that shows hatred and dislike was shared between you two.

It was about time you got up from the bunk bed, stretching your arms upwards. Peter was still at his study table, flipping through the pages of his book. You rolled your eyes at him, moving forward to get a look at what was so interesting that had kept him so invested for such a long time.

You rolled your eyes as soon as you got a peek of what was in front of him, “Three chapters ahead of the class?!” You scoffed. Peter’s head snapped up, not expecting you there, “No wonder how you’re able to answer all the questions in class. Smartass.” You snarked.

He suddenly smacked his fist on the table making you take a step back out of reflex, “What is your problem?” He asked, “You’re at my house, in my bedroom and you just cannot shut your mouth up!”

You made a disgusted face, “Then, maybe the problem is in you!” You pointed. He stood up from his chair, towering due to the extra inches he had over you.

If anyone else would’ve been so close up your face that you could feel their breath fan over your cheeks, you probably would’ve moved back, been nervous, or maybe even have told them to piss off. But it was Peter Parker, how could you back up. You both were as stubborn as the other.

“You are so —” He starts, running a hand through his soft, brown hair in frustration.

“So what? Huh Parker? Cat caught your tongue?” You spat. It wasn’t even new. This conversation between the two of you, it has been repeated all over the time. You saw his jaw clench and unclench before a look of unconcern settled on his face and he left the room, muttering a ‘whatever’ before slamming the door, leaving you behind.

“Whatever?” You gritted out, trailing his path and slamming the door behind you with equal frequency, if not more.

Your mom and May, who were sitting at the couch, having a pleasant conversation, looked at you and Peter in confusion.

“What happened kids?” May asked.

“Nothing.” Peter breathed out hastily before you could say anything, “I-I was invited to this party tonight.” The change of tone in his voice was evident, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes softened. Minutes ago he was with you and he was talking with venom quoting all his words. You wondered if he would ever talk to you like that.

“Why don’t you take (y/n) with you?” You heard May ask. Your eyes went wide, matching Peter’s chocolate brown ones.

“No, I don’t think my mom would want me to —” You started before getting cut off by your dear mom.

“I have no objections. You kids should socialise a little. It’s fine as long you both stick together. I still remember the time we went to Grace’s party.” Your mom laughed, followed by May and a conversation picked up.

✰✯✰

“You had to open your dumb mouth?!” You slammed the door to Peter’s car, “Nothing of this would’ve happened if you waited for us to leave.” You ran up to match his pace as he ignored you.

“Just keep your distance and call me if you want to go back home.” He said finally and left you there to meet his friend Ned with whom he ushered inside.

You sighed, contemplating on leaving him there alone, but finally decided to go inside, keeping in mind that you’d be safer in there.

A one and a half hour later, you were drunk and bored. You’ve had a few punches and now you were intoxicated, bored and lonely. You barely had any conversation because you didn’t know much about these people. So you stood in a corner by yourself, propped against a wall, drowning in your thoughts and alcohol. Recalling the last time you went to MJ’s and you both discussed how worthless boys are, you chuckled.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand slammed on the wall beside you, making you flinch and look at the cause of disruption. A boy, approximately your age, stood above you, black eyes shining due to the blue and yellow fluorescent lights.

“Excuse me.” You said, looking into his gleaming eyes, the alcohol giving you a little confidence boost.

“Hey princess.” He smirked, running a hand through his copper red locks, “What do you think, we have a little dance of our own?”

“Um, sorry but I have a boyfriend.” You said, defensively.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow at you, “I didn’t see any boyfriend of yours around here for a long time. It seems to me like he doesn’t care enough to be around for you baby.” He chuckled. You felt yourself cringe when he moved closer and tried pushing him back.

“Hey Romeo.” The voice made the boy pull away from you. You sighed out of relief, looking back to see who it was, “I’m the boyfriend.” Peter pointed towards himself, moving forwards. Placing a hand over the boy’s leather clad torso, Peter pushed him away from you and stood in front of you, placing a protective hand in the air. You felt safe, like you always did when Peter was around —and you didn’t even know why— you would be lying if you said otherwise, “Now you may piss off.” He said.

The other guy just rolled his eyes and went off to chase another girl.

Peter turned to you with an unreadable look on his face.

“T-thanks. You really didn’t have to.” You said. He stumbled forward. You could tell he was as drunk as you, if not more.

��I did anyway. So, deal with it.” He shrugged, making you chuckle. He looks cute when he’s drunk. You put your hands on his shoulder when he stumbled once again, moving closer. God, was the boy wasted.

“Why would you help me?” You asked, making him look into your eyes, “I mean, you hate me, always have.” You stated. His brown eyes, once a distant hard stare, softened, just like they did in his apartment, earlier today. You felt something, a strong feeling in your gut, telling you to move closer, so you did.

“I don’t hate you.” He admitted, “You hate me.”

“No, I don’t.” You scoffed, “You do!”

“Okay, this can go on for a while.” He chuckled, pointing between the two of you, then stood up straighter, balancing himself with your help, your breaths mixing, “D-do you want to go home?” He asked, concern lacing his words. You shook your head.

“No, I don’t want to go, anywhere” You whispered. He moved closer, resting his forehead on yours. His breath fanned over your face, all the while you two looked into each other’s eyes. His eyes flickered to your lips for a moment then back to your eyes, hands moving all the way down to rest on the small of your back.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” Was all he said before his lips connected with yours.

✰✯✰

You woke up to very unfamiliar surroundings, a white blanket covered your body as the light poured in through the window. You squint your eyes, due to the brightness, and turned to look to your side.

Peter sat at the edge of the bed, head propped up on his hands, just in his boxers. You gulped at the possibility of what might’ve happened last night.

“Peter?” You called out softly. He turned back, focusing on you.

“Morning.” He said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“W-what happened l-last night?” You stuttered out.

“I guess we had sex.” He stated, afterwards blushing at his bluntness. There was a moment of silence as Peter got up from the bed, walked all the way to the door and stood against it.

“I’m sorry.” You finally said, playing with the hem of the sheets. Peter looked at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“Why are you sorry? We both were drunk (y/n).” He said.

“Yeah but…” You started, holding the sheets firmly behind your back with the help of one hand, “We hate each other! You’re not supposed to sleep with the person you hate.”

“I don’t hate you.” He stated, “I never did. When we first met in school, you were —”

“Why are you telling me this?” Your eyebrows furrowed. He sighed.

“Because.” He searched for words, carefully looking at your expression, then deciding to say, “I like you.”

“What?” You stared at him in confusion. No way in hell could you be awake, this definitely has to be a dream, “Are you kidding? B-because this isn’t a good one.” You laughed bitterly, eyes glossing over with tears.

“I’m not. I’m not kidding at all.” He said, walking back to his initial position and sitting beside you on the bed, “I’ve liked you since, well, for a very long time, but you’re impossible to talk to.”

“What? I’m not the one who is im —”

You were cut off because Peter then pulled you in for a kiss. One hand behind your neck, the other moved to your back, holding the sheets in their place so you could reach yours in the back of his head, playing with the soft curls there.

When you parted, eyes closed and breathing heavily, you could feel his breath on your cheeks, “You’re the impossible one.” You said softly.

“Are you seriously saying that when I jus—”

It was your turn to pull him in for a kiss, happy that the brawl between the two of you was finally resolved, “I like you too.”

Permanent taglist: @rcmxnoff @aidiastyles @spideygirl2003 @tommysparker @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @allegra-soleil @rubberducky-jrr @purefluff @clara-licht @anjali750 @drunklili @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @the-crazy-fanfictionist @fanficparker @halfblood-princess-505 @chaoticpete @hollandsamor @t-monosapiens-h

Peter Parker taglist: @cherryredparker @mirukobecomingbothered @starlight-starks @parkers-thoughts

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #iloveyou3000wc #cookie’s fics #cookie’s writings #tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #spiderman x reader #haters to lovers

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king-paimon · 4 years

Text

HnK Chapter 91 thoughts/opinions: Jade’s a good gem and you can’t change my mind

Man...what a chapter. And it came early! Definitely a nice surprise I needed. And we all, myself include, owe Jade an apology. I think the majority of us expected Jade to go down in just one page but NOPE. He actually held his own pretty dang well and caused a lot of damage, and without a weapon, too! Even though he knew he wasn’t going to win, he still fought hard and even though this chapter was short, it was amazing. This fight was so intense and brutal; a lot more so than Bort vs. Dia to be honest. I like the parallels in this chapter, with Jade’s gut punch being similar to when he had to do the same back in chapter 39 when Phos was having his mental breakdown. The main differences, of course, being the circumstances. My, how these characters have changed so much.

(This got a pretty long. Sorry in advance. May edit later. Also, I give my opinion on certain things near the end so I wanted to give an additional heads up. I hope I don’t upset anyone. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and view of the characters and even if we don’t agree, I believe all opinions are valid.)

I knew that I was going to like and be saddened by this chapter but it was honestly a treat. But do you know what made it better? Because Ms. Haruko Ichikawa showed us all how Jade was one of the better gems.

I repeat: Jade was one of the better gems

I said it a few times before in previous posts that Jade was one of my favorite gems. Not only because I thought his personality was entertaining but because out of all of the Earth gems, as far as I saw, Jade was one of the ones that did the least bad to Phos. Even before his drastic change, I don’t remember too many instances were Jade actively put Phos down. When Phos got his new legs and didn’t remember Jade, I remember how devastated he was, even if it was just for comedy. Or when Jade had to shatter Phos during his mental breakdown, as mentioned above, Jade felt so guilty that he had to do that. So from my point of view, when it came interactions between Phos and Jade, they seemed very genuine and I believe Jade was one of the few gems that showed they cared about Phos, both before and after he started his transformation. And this chapter further cements how Jade was one of the better gems, from both the Earth and Moon factions, because he did one thing that none of the other gems at this point of the story ever did for Phos ever since they’ve gone to this point: Apologized.

Jade, so far, was the only one who truly apologized to Phos. Euclase never did that. Yes, Euclase was the one who tried to speak with Phos but he didn’t put much effort to do that or do anything of help to Phos. And even when he was at Phos’ mercy in the previous chapter, Euclase never attempted verbally acknowledge how he affected Phos. Jade, on the other hand, DID.

Instead of damning Phos with his remaining strength, he recognized how his actions ultimately contributed to Phos’s current state and gave an honest and truthful apology for not understanding Phos. And I think that was one of the things that Phos, as well as many of us readers, wanted deep down. And maybe it’s just me, but from Phos’s expression on that page as Jade crumbled, I think those words got to him...even though Phos quickly dismissed it in the next page. But still, Jade did something that none of the other gems have done for Phos: actually said he was sorry for not trying harder to understand Phos.

Would it have been better if this was said long ago? Absolutely. Does this excuse Jade’s, as well as the other Earth gem’s past behavior? No. Did Phos have to accept Jade’s apology? Of course not. But you know what? In my opinion, I still liked the fact that at least one of the gems recognize how badly they treated Phos, even it’s at the very end, and better late than never. It would’ve been better if the other gems did something like this but you take what you can get. And though it’s a shame that Phos ends up brushing Jade’s words off in the end, I can’t blame him. Also, on that note, DANG, some of you fans are so cut throat and dismissed Jade, too. I do get it though; Jade, along with the other Earth gems, left Phos for over 200 years, so I understand why some fans quickly dismiss his apology. And as mentioned above, it still doesn’t excuse what happened before. In my opinion though, considering everything that had happened before that incident, from the Earth gems’ point of view of Phos’s morally questionable actions, I can’t fully fault them for doing it. (I understand if you don’t agree with me.) And again, at least Jade still did something that the other gems never did. It may have been a small gesture that wouldn’t have changed Phos or the trajectory of the story, but the fact that Jade still said it and meant it speaks volumes, more so than anything Euclase or any of the Earth or Moon gems ever said to Phos in these recent chapters. For these reasons, those last pages were so heartbreaking in so many ways.

Also, I like the fact that Jade is connected to the heart chakra and represents acceptance and loving in Buddhism, which is very fitting to me.

(Opinionated mini rant here. Sorry that it isn’t coherent.)

So, yeah. Jade is great. A definite contender for being one of the best Earth gems when it comes to his relations to Phos. Heck, he’s even better than most of the Moon gems combined. Come at me. You know I’m right. Did the other Moon gems ever acknowledge how they contributed to Phos’s fall and show any remorse?? Better yet, did they ever honestly apologize for being shitty to Phos when he actually needed their support? No. They didn’t.

Dia never apologized for not helping Phos when he really needed it, or when Phos tried to be open with them and the other Moon gems after the first invasion plan failed; Dia just f-ed off and ignored him, and only went on this crusade when Phos threatened that he’d bring Bort. Alex showed very little remorse, too. Same with Benito, Ame, and Goshe; they were all having fun, doing their own thing when Phos was clearly needing some kind of support. Heck, I still remember the page when Phos was literally pouring his heart out and the other gems just go “Oh look! Goshe and Cairn’s on the TV. They look like they’re having fun!” Wow... okay guys. Thanks. Speaking of which, Cairn surely never apologized and probably never will at this point. I don’t know what to expect from this character anymore. I don’t hate them; I’m just disappointed.

I’m giving Yellow leeway cuz he’s in therapy and never got the chance to see Phos, which is probably for the best. Padparadscha also gets a pass. I think those two are the only Moon gems who actually show remorse for Phos’ misery, even though they never verbally say it. The rest of Moon gems? Nothing. Yeah, Phos told them to not recover him if his third visit failed but those gems didn’t show any concern for Phos’s well being when he left nor when he came back with his murderous mindset. Of course the Earth gems showed little remorse too. Euclase recognized how his actions affected Phos but did nothing in the very end to show true remorse. Only Jade did. So Jade gets extra brownie points for being the only decent gem to verbally acknowledging that he didn’t do right by Phos and apologize.

(Sorry about that. I do get annoyed when people praise the Moon gems and hate the Earth gems when really, they weren’t too different when it came to how they treated Phos. One group may have shattered Phos, but both contributed to his fall. But again, everyone is entitled to feel how they feel about these characters and though I disagree with fans who view the gems this way, I don’t blame them for viewing them this way. All views are valid. I’ll most likely change a few things here later. Maybe.)

Next chapter woes

Anyways, now we wait for the next chapter which...oooh, it’ll be a doozy. As always, I’m excited and scared because this story can go in so many directs but that last sentence on the last page... OH BOY. So many things are at stake. And the likeliness of Cinnabar becoming the 7th treasure continues to rise. Stay strong, Shinsha-stans.

What’ll happen? Only Ms. Ichikawa knows, that clever, sadistic monster. We’ll sadly have to wait very patiently and see. But I think we all know that whatever happens next is going to hurt so good.

And to add more sadness to the mix, from what I’m seeing in the tags, it looks like more and more people are starting to think the same thing as me about our dear, dear broken protagonist.

Phos’s happy ending, whatever that may entail, is getting less and less likely to happen. And we all know it’ll be because of Aechmea somehow. And that continues to be the saddest truth of this story.

#houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #HNK #hnk spoilers #hnk spoiler #hnk chapter 91 #hnk phosphophyllite #hnk phos #evil phos #hnk jade #Hnk analysis #hnk thoughts #haruko ichikawa #you sadistic monster #different opinions

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX

It didn't entirely come to their expectations, as they'd been expecting a rant about his mother, but instead he snarled in frustration and got to his feet, pacing and muttering angrily, "woman just can't leave me in peace! Even in death she'll find a way to drive me mad, or more mad as I'm still convinced that's what I'd have to be to go back in there for some stupid meeting that Snape's a part of."

"I think we should leave and get some lunch," James sighed as he gazed down at the book. They'd only been at this for a few hours, but really, they'd just been dealing with so many things back to back already a break felt needed.

Sirius stomped wordlessly to the kitchen still muttering obscenities.

They ate their meal in some resemblance of peace but Sirius still refused to leave his plate, scraping it clean and then still scraping his fork against it. Remus hadn't actually meant to whisper, "Sirius, you didn't really mean that right? You know that place didn't-" he broke off as he couldn't think of how to phrase what Azkaban had done to him.

"I'm not acting right," he muttered to his plate alone. "I know I'm not, I don't need to see you two acting so off when I'm mentioned to notice it myself. Haven't gone after Harry, haven't done a damned thing really, now I'm actually back at that place, been there since Harry got there it seems, and I don't come up to see him until I hear that woman shouting." He sighed and shook his head, letting his hair fall into his face.

"You've clearly got a lot on your mind," James tried his very best to put something light into this. "A new feeling for you I'm sure."

Sirius did not rise to the bait, but he didn't seem to want to linger on this in front of them either as he pushed away from the table and wouldn't look at anyone as he went back to the room.

On the way there Lily managed to step in the shards of the vase James had broken earlier. She quickly banished the mess without remorse, that was just one step of ridding Petunia from her life.

James sat unhappily in his seat as he watched Lily sit back down beside him cuddling their child, his mind still on Sirius as he began flipping to his chapter and wishing he had more to comfort his best friend with, but so long as the topic was going to be over that house he didn't see how that was possible.

Harry was stunned at the news while Sirius elaborated that his dear old mother had put up a Permanent Sticking Charm on these so that they couldn't take them down.

"Spiteful old hag," Sirius spat, "can't get away from that even in her death."

"Well maybe you shouldn't have given her the idea," James still tried to play this off as a joke, "she did give you absolute hell when you put all that stuff up in your room."

Sirius still refused to react past grumbling.

Then he quickly tried to usher them all down the stairs before anything woke up again.

"I don't understand why you don't just put something in the way, put a door in front of curtains or something if keeping her face covered keeps her silent." Harry asked.

"I've got one better, just blow the whole wall up and be done with it," Remus added on.

"Oh how I wish I still had Moony's wisdom at a time like that," Sirius sighed theatrically before explaining to Harry what Remus knew full well, "the permanent sticking charm keeping her to that wall means that you'd have to rip down that whole house to get that thing gone, the charm is now in the very fabric of the building and no amount of blasting walls will get it off unless the whole frame goes with it, that's some powerful magic to get rid of anything, and not going to be used on something as precious as headquarters right now." His face puckered with disappointment as Lily explained the more reasonable half.

"As for putting something more solid to keep that woman blocked, I'm afraid that magic can't just have a wall put in front of it and there won't be consequences. So long as it's enchanted to react to noise and start screaming, if you try to cover that up, the person who did so will suffer terribly for it. It comes with its own countercurse that if you block it in any way from acting like it should, you're cursed. The curtains are enough that it can still activate, while ah, well at least you won't have to see the stupid thing."

Harry just sighed and grumbled about complex magic.

Harry asked what a thing like that was doing here?

"Striving to torture me till the end of my days," Sirius huffed.

Sirius was surprised no one had told Harry this was his parents place. He'd offered it to Dumbledore as Headquarters, about the only useful thing he'd done of late.

James felt his heart sink as he could feel the weight of that even if he hadn't seen his best friend in person.

Lily beat him to the punch by sympathizing, "I'm sure you're just exaggerating like always Sirius, just because he's got you doing things you don't want to be doing."

Sirius wasn't so sure, he still couldn't help a worm of agitation going through his brain of how he'd been acting. He'd been acting more normal last year with the Tournament going on, this just didn't feel right to him.

Harry, who had expected a better welcome, noted how hard and bitter Sirius's voice sounded.

They all gave a hard twitch at that, though they hadn't really been pretending before, you couldn't deny anymore something bad was going on with their Padfoot.

Remus tried to force some hope into his voice, "I'm positive he's just in a mood because he's in that house for a while, once he and Harry step back out he'll lighten up at once."

Sirius took a deep breath and tried to take Moony's words to heart, but he also couldn't pretend Harry's frown deepened at the words.

He followed his godfather into the kitchen which was hardly less creepy than the place above. A long dark room lit only by the fireplace at the end that had a stew pot dangling above it, and more kitchen cooking things on the ceiling.

Sirius still couldn't stop a nasty little shiver for the reminder of that place, where so many of his mother's precious 'lessons' about everything he hated had taken place.

A haze of smoke left the whole place with a foreboding feeling as they all took seats around what appeared to be a pile of rags. Mr. Weasley and Bill were still at the table as well talking in low voices, but Bill quickly caught sight of their entry and called out a greeting to Harry, asking if Mad-Eye had gotten him here by Greenland?

"What a shame he didn't, I heard the scenery is lovely," James rolled his eyes.

Tonks said that he tried,

Lily snorted softly as she could honestly imagine that.

while coming forward and accidentally knocking a candle onto a piece of parchment.

"When she said she was clumsy, she really meant it," Remus chuckled softly.

"Did you really think she was kidding?" Harry laughed lightly back.

"Some people exaggerate it," Remus half heartedly persisted, trying to press into any mundane point with Sirius still looking so tight over continued mentionings of this place. "Just because you drop or break something once in awhile, I've been known to be clumsy as well. This however, is clinically clumsy."

Finally causing the others to start a light giggle as well.

Tonks began apologizing at once as Mrs. Weasley swooped in to save the paper, and in the instant flash of light Harry recognized what he thought were building plans.*

"Just what are they looking into?" Lily asked of no one with exasperation.

"Couldn't tell you," James pouted.

Harry was sad to note he didn't even have a gut feeling about this, it was probably something of the Order he was never told.

Mrs. Weasley caught him looking and quickly snatched the paper away to go into Bill's already stuffed arms full of other similar things.

"That woman's just no fun," Sirius sighed tragically, trying to force himself to remain off his own mother for a time and focus on this overbearing one.

She snapped of no one that these things should all be put up right at the end of meetings.

"Or, you know, don't bother hiding stuff inside the Order and just let them know anyways," James grumbled.

Bill didn't argue the point as he got his wand out and vanished the lot with Evanesce.

"Where do they go?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Wherever Bill wants them to," Remus shrugged, "they've probably got some special place they keep all those documents that only Order members can summon them from."

Sirius told Harry to come have a seat next to him, and then reintroduced Mundungus.

They all felt a sharp spike of agitation at the mention of him.

The thing Harry had taken to be a pile of rags gave a prolonged, grunting snore, then jerked awake.

"I can not believe you of all people were sitting next to him," James balked, staring down at the page. Sirius looked just as confused at his setting mate, but then they were all surprised at Harry's sudden burst of laughter.

"What's so funny then?" Remus prompted as Harry rubbed gently at his temple, his eyes shining with mirth.

"Oh, I just remember all of a sudden Ron telling me about how Sirius reacted when Dung came over. It was just Sirius, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Bill there at the time when he showed up. Apparently he came stumbling into the house, saying 'Dementors attacked, Figgs going to kill me, where's Dumbledore?' Mr. Weasley apparently flipped out at once, ran down into the kitchen and sent an owl off to me, and disapparated before Dung had really gotten all the words out."

He paused there and turned those same amused eyes on Sirius and continued, "Want to know what you did? According to Ron and Hermione you made him repeat it, and then you started strangling him."

Sirius cocked his head to the side, then nodded like this made perfect sense to him. The others couldn't help but give grim smiles as well, it felt rather appropriate to the way they were feeling. Harry finished off by saying, "It took Bill pulling you off to get you to stop, but from then on Ron said that you tended to dog Dung wherever he went, and he'd flinch every time you like scratched your nose or something."

James was still chuckling mercilessly at the imagery as he went back to the pages.

He turned hung eyes on everyone questioningly, before saying he voted with Sirius.

"Bet you anything that wanker agreed with me just for some brownie points," Sirius sniffed in disdain, hardly mollified to find out he'd attempted to strangle someone who had been supposed to be looking after his Godson.

Sirius told him the meeting was over, and Harry was here now.

Mundungus had to struggle to focus on him while asking if he was doing alright?

"No thanks to you," Lily still couldn't help but snip.

His fumbling fingers began going through his robes until he came out with a pipe, which he quickly lit causing a nasty smell to linger in the already hazy place, then he added on he owed Harry an apology.

"The least of which," James sniffed.

Molly cut off anything else as she snapped at him not to light that in the kitchen!

"I can't believe he had the nerve to do something that agitates her, right in front of her," Remus raised a brow as he still knew how ticked Lily was at him for the moment, surely Molly was just as bad if not worse as she probably approved of Harry being followed.

Mundungus quickly agreed and pocketed it, but the smell of burning socks still lingered.

"Pleasant," Lily crinkled up her nose.

Then she snapped of the room at large if they wanted dinner any time soon she needed some help, before turning on Harry and saying he was excluded as he'd had a long day.

"I'd have rather been next to the stove," Harry muttered to himself, his rage had made him forget about his cold upon arrival, but he still hadn't fully regained feeling in all his fingers from that flight.

Tonks bounded forward at once to offer her services to a clearly apprehensive Molly.

"I'm supposing Tonks has knocked over one to many stews," Remus smirked.

She tried to tell her as well she'd done enough, but Tonks waved her off and said she wanted to help while going to help Ginny get some cutlery out.

"I'm sensing that's the wrong place for her to be," James rolled his eyes, "more likely she should be set to some potatoes, least she can break those all she likes."

Soon the whole kitchen was busy with something, leaving Harry, Sirius, and Mundungus at the table.

Sirius still felt a flaring agitation rising in him, still pestered over this reunion.

Mundungus asked Harry if he'd seen Mrs. Figg lately, and Harry tartly replied he hadn't seen anyone. Mundungus spoke like Harry hadn't, saying he hadn't meant to leave his post, but there had been a really good business deal-

"Sirius dear, I need you to do me a favor and start strangling him again," Lily said almost pleasantly.

"I'm positive I'll be all too happy to," Sirius almost managed a cheerful look back at the thought.

Harry felt something brush against his knee as he stopped listening to him and glanced down to see Crookshanks. He twined once around Harry's legs before hopping into Sirius' lap, who began absentmindedly scratching him.

"I've missed hearing about that cat," Remus gave a light snicker.

James just suppressed a smile as he imagined Harry looking down at exactly the wrong time. Mundungus bringing that up, and Sirius glaring at him would have been a precious thing described. Sadly the subject got changed in the next sentence before he got to hear of any such thing.

Sirius asked how Harry's summer had been?

Then Sirius flinched again, harder, as he'd already had to realize how dumb that question was, yet he couldn't have bothered to find out any point before now? What exactly had he been so busy doing to not have done so?

Harry just grumbled how lousy it had been, making a grin flit across Sirius' face.

"So glad you find that funny," Harry happily poked fun, while the others all listened curiously to see just what about that had made Sirius act even a smidge more normal at laughing at anything.

Sirius told Harry he had nothing to be complaining about, he'd welcome a dementor attack.

James could not read that without a nasty catch in his throat, hoping beyond everything his best friend was kidding about that part, as Sirius still flinched at the thought of what those foul demons were going to be doing to his future. Sirius making light of this was entirely his Padfoot though, so he read on with more enthusiasm than he would have thought.

A deadly struggle for his soul would have broken the monotony nicely.

"Sirius," Lily began dangerously, clearly saying she'd switch that threat of violence to him in a heartbeat if she heard of anymore fool headed moves on his part.

At least Harry had been allowed out of the house, he'd been stuck in here for a month.

"I, what?" Sirius demanded, feeling like his heart had just dropped down into his stomach. This couldn't really mean what he was thinking...

Harry asked why, and Sirius explained that the Ministry was still after him, and Voldemort knew all about his Animagus disguise.

"But, all of that was true last year too, and you were getting around just fine!" Remus snapped, trying to pretend he hadn't watched James go the worst shade of red at having to be reminded who their friend was sharing all of their secrets with.

So there wasn't much use he could do for the Order, so Dumbledore seemed to feel.

There was a deadly moment of silence where everyone just sat there for a moment and gaped at what Sirius had just implied he'd been up to. No, he hadn't really-

Sirius' temper snapped. The shouting they'd all been expecting before to come up when faced with his mother finally seemed to have tantamount as past memories blocked out everything and he began shouting, "I can't decide who I hate worse right now, the rat for my name still being smeared, or Dumbledore! HE PUT ME IN WHERE!?"

His voice may have ruptured to stop him from continuing, that or he actually realized the baby was crying fiercely now, either way he forced himself to stop that and instead got to his feet and began stamping more than pacing across the room in frustration.

"Sirius-" Someone tried to say, but he didn't even take note of it as he kept going in a forced lesser volume, "it's damn near as bad as if I'd been locked into Azkaban all over again, there's no way I'm actually-" he cut himself off that time though, because in some nasty twisted way it did explain his behavior so far. If Dumbledore had actually convinced him to stay in that house for his safety, than he would be in the worst mood of his life the whole time there, it's no wonder Harry's problems were falling to his wayside, he had trouble thinking of anything else now when he wasn't in that place, but trapped back in those dank walls and he'd be a bottomless pit of self pity.

"Listen Padfoot," James insisted over his still fussy child, who was now making more noise than Sirius, but Lily refused to leave the room this time as she kept soothing him patiently and keeping an eye on Sirius. "Dumbledore's insane for thinking that's what you should do, and Merlin it's a twist of irony you've actually seemed to listen to him in doing it, but I think you're forgetting something really important."

"What?" He barked like a snapping animal.

"It's not happening to you now. You never have to go back there again if you don't want to. Deep breaths Pads, I promise Dumbledore will rue the day he decided to do this to you."

"Rue?" Remus asked more to change the subject than anything. "Look at you using big kid words."

James theatrically pouted at him, while Sirius sighed but at least stopped shouting for now, and so had the baby. James still kept watching Sirius carefully as he went grumpily back to his seat, but when it became clear he was the holdup Sirius just waved him on, though now he looked more likely than Lily to be strangling a certain someone soon, and it wasn't Mundungus anymore.

The tight way Sirius said Harry's headmaster's name made it very clear Sirius had just as many bad thoughts about Dumbledore as Harry lately, and he felt a sudden upsurge of affection for his godfather.

"Mutual hatred of someone will do wonders to bring two people closer together," James gave an awkward smile in agreement, his thoughts on Snape and how for so many years four people had spent their lives hating his every step. Now one of them was on the same side as him.

He still tried to encourage at least Sirius was in the know, but Sirius corrected that sitting around listening to Snape's reports

"That is actual torture," Remus declared.

"I'll be lucky if I don't go mad and murder everyone in the room next time," Sirius agreed.

and all his snide comments was hardly riveting news, especially as he kept making cracks about Sirius lazing on his backside, asking about the cleaning.

Harry wondered if Sirius had known at the time he sounded exactly like his father did upon reading that, then he felt his spirits sink that much lower as Harry kept realizing that with every minute he valued getting to watch James do anything, his Sirius probably missed his brother double.

Harry asked what that meant, and Sirius explained they were trying to make this place fit for human habitation again, it had been abandoned for ten years,

"Ten years eh?" Sirius muttered absently, trying to draw the timeframe in his head, but since he honestly had no clue of who died first, his parents or Regulus, it still wasn't helping anything.

and some nasty stuff had taken to breeding in here.

Mundungus, who hadn't been listening to a word, suddenly cut in towards Sirius that the goblet he was holding was solid silver.

Harry felt a sudden flash of violence overtake him, some memory trying to bubble right to the surface of his strangling Mundungus-

"I can see what his attention was just so riveted on," Lily snarked.

"Trust Mundungus to try filching something from that house," Sirius said with an actual touch of indulgence though, he'd help loot the place for the man even while holding some burning violence for him.

Sirius disdainfully agreed it was a fine piece of fifteenth century goblin-wrought silver with the Black crest and everything.

Mundungus muttered to himself that bit would come off though.

"Why would he want it to?" Remus asked in honest confusion. "Wouldn't it be worth more with that crest in place, proving its pureblood usage."

"Depends on what Dung's using it for I guess," Sirius shrugged without care.

They were all interrupted by Molly's shriek at the twins just to carry it!

James could already feel a touch of indulgence replacing his lackluster mood at Sirius' future problems, the twins always had made him feel better though and this sounded like something right out of his late teen years.

The three at the table only just managed to look up in time, and jump away from the table.

The twins had tried to enchant a cauldron of soup, a flagon of Butterbeer, and a wooden board holding a loaf of bread complete with knife soaring towards the table. Too enthusiastically though, as the soup skidded the length of the table leaving black marks and only just not falling off the edge, the Butterbeer really did fall with a crash, and the knife slipped right off the board and soared point blank into the table where Sirius' hand had just been.

Harry had to swallow very hard around the boy's sudden laughter, that felt like a bad omen to him.

Molly was telling her kids off already in shouting tones about how just because they were of age now did not mean they had to whip their wands out for everything!

James wasn't shouting that too loud considering his infant was still being rather fidgety in his mother's arms, but the tone was clear in his voice and they were all giggling now as none of them would deny they had been the same way after they'd turned seventeen.

Fred was trying to ignore his mother by hurrying forward and apologizing to Sirius while wrenching the knife out of the table, but both he and Harry were to busy laughing to notice.

"Good to know some things don't change," Sirius muttered as he brushed some hair back out of his face and grinned at Harry who'd quickly forced himself to ignore his moment and had indeed been laughing along.

Crookshanks had been startled so bad he'd darted under a dresser.

Arthur was trying to agree with his wife that now they were of age they should be showing more responsibility-

"Parents always think you're supposed to be responsible no matter what age you're at," James sighed.

while Mrs. Weasley cut in that none of their brothers caused this much trouble!

Lily winced as she heard that again, how she wished Molly would quit badgering those boys about being like their siblings, it couldn't be good for any of them to always be compared to each other, she still remembered how Ron had been on that first train ride and how badly it had shown him being looked over when it came to his fourth year.

She slammed a fresh flagon of Butterbeer on to the table, and spilled almost as much again.

"I'm sure that got her point across better," Remus snorted.

All while yelling Bill hadn't felt the need to Apparate every few feet!

"But Percy apparently did, and no one was yelling at him for that," James huffed.

"I don't buy that for a second," Harry muttered to himself, thinking of how Bill's very look screamed he didn't like abiding by normal standards and enjoyed his reckless moments.

Charlie hadn't charmed everything he met!

"Charlie clearly needs some fun tips then," Lily smiled to herself.

Percy -

James voice broke with a sharp hiss of frustration even before he found out how the guys own parents reacted. He didn't care if he had no personal relation to Percy himself, he now couldn't help picturing that little shit of a Weasley in as foul a way as possible.

She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly wooden.

Lily felt herself wobbling and tucking her child that much closer to her as it hurt to picture such a thing happening to those parents.

Bill jumped in by saying he was hungry, and Lupin swiftly agreed the stew looked delicious as he tried loading a plate to hand to her.

"I see why the Order's still keeping you around," Sirius nodded to himself, "least you can still manage to change the subject slick as butter."

For a few minutes there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down to their food.

Harry gave a sad sigh as he wondered if Percy would be proud of himself for creating such an awkward silence at just the mention of his name.

Then Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius.

"Oh boy," they all muttered, as Sirius wasn't being at his most pleasant around them while in mention of that house, but around someone he'd shown not a spot of like for inside it, this could turn ugly fast.

She brought up that there was an odd rattling in the writing desk upstairs,

"And she's telling you this, because?" Remus asked with honest amusement.

"Wants to know the best spell to set it on fire?" Sirius shrugged carelessly.

it could just be a Boggart, but she'd rather have Mad-Eye check it before they opened it.

Harry suddenly blinked in utter fascination at the idea as he turned to Remus and asked, "you said a Boggart could read your mind and automatically turn into the thing you fear most, but could it do that if it doesn't realize Moody's looking at it? What do Boggarts look like when no one's around?"

"No one knows a Boggarts true form," Remus reminded, "not even Moody. Most likely it's just hiding as something already to fear you, and the person who did get closest to it could still manage to transform and scare them before they'd cast it off."

Harry was still trying to picture Moody being afraid of anything a Boggart could turn into as a laughable idea, but still the idea of that Boggart bothered him for some reason, like it did scare someone.

Sirius indifferently agreed, while Molly moved on to talking about some curtains full of Doxys and how they should tackle that tomorrow.

"I wouldn't let Sirius anywhere near anything in that place without taking his wand away, and that's too dangerous as well," James shook his head at Molly. "Just what makes her think it's a good idea to let Sirius help try and clean anything?"

Sirius just wasn't in the mood to respond back and keep playing this off like a joke, the thought of that room like every other dragging up some haunting memories he'd done a good job of burying over the years, this one in particular being the time his dad had given him a week long lecture on the dark creatures of the world and what Sirius was expected to do if he ever met them, not a pleasant reminder while sitting next to Moony.

Sirius stated he looked forward to it, while Harry wondered if he was the only one finding sarcasm in that.

"I can't imagine it was hardly disguised," Lily muttered, Sirius had never done a good job of hiding any feelings.

Opposite him, Tonks was entertaining Hermione and Ginny by changing her nose between bites.

This was so randomly unexpected James had to stifle a giggle before going on, and then read slightly louder over the others still doing so.

Even as Harry looked it extended into a long beak-like protuberance that resembled Snape.

"If she has never done that to his face, I will pay that woman my weight in gold this instant to do it now," Sirius managed to get out in between laughter.

"No, no, you're not thinking hard enough," Remus instructed with a smirk, "she's supposed to be doing it behind his back in the Order meetings while he's not looking."

James actually had to stop to catch his breath back from laughing so hard, while Lily rolled her eyes and was beginning to think Tonks really would fit into this bunch a little too well.

Then she took another bite, and it shrank down to a button. Apparently this was a regular mealtime show, as Hermione and Ginny began asking for favorites.

"This really is fascinating," Lily grinned the more she realized how flexible Tonks's ability was outside of a text describing it.

One asked for a pig snout, and when she was done Harry had the impression of looking at a female Dudley.

"Urgh, as if the original version wasn't vile enough," James chuckled.

Mr. Weasley, Bill and Lupin were having an intense discussion on about goblins.

"Think I'd rather go back hearing about Tonks noses," Remus huffed quietly to himself, which Sirius still heard and rolled his eyes at, hoping Moony wasn't going to be like this every time he was mentioned, and completely ignoring the fact that he had been the same lately.

Bill was talking about how they were giving nothing away, no one could work out whose side they were on. They could just be staying neutral.

"That's what they're doing now," Lily agreed.

Mr. Weasley didn't believe they'd really join You-Know-Who, he'd wronged them too much, reminding them of that goblin family in Nottingham.

"Has that happened yet?" James asked in confusion, though after a while all of the deaths really started blurring together.

"I think Sturgis was actually doing some looking into that area," Remus nodded to himself, "he mentioned it last time, so maybe, or it's just fixing to."

"Must be a big name in the goblin community to still be remembered so vividly," Lily said sadly, as normally wizards were horrible about keeping track of other creatures history.

Lupin countered it all depended on what they were offered. If Voldemort was promising freedoms wizards were denying them, they'd be tempted.

Remus muttered something under his breath about how that would tempt a lot more than goblins, but Sirius gave him a hard nudge to shut up that kind of talk.

Then asking Bill if he'd heard anything from Ragnok?

Bill sighed as he explained how anti wizard he was at the moment, he felt shorted because they'd never gotten back their gold from Bagman, claimed the Ministry was doing a cover up so they wouldn't get their dues.

"I'm sure no one got their gold back from Bagman," Lily scowled at the reminder of that, the twins in particular nearly having suffered a great fallback for it.

Laughter broke off the end of that though, from the rest of the Weasley's and Mundungus.

"Well at least this sounds far more entertaining," James grinned.

He was telling them a story about how he sold this guys nicked toads back to him for double the price.

James nearly couldn't finish to the end he was laughing so hard, though he really was the only one.

Lily still found him too annoying to laugh at such a stupid thing, and though Sirius normally would have he was on Lily's side for once. Remus still looked distant and distracted like he hadn't even realized they'd switched to another topic.

Mrs. Weasley cut him off saying they didn't need to be hearing stories about his business while Ron was slumped over the table laughing.

"At least someone's enjoying themselves," Harry sighed.

Mundungus apologized at once, but tried to offer that as the other guy had nicked them in the first place as well, Mundungus hadn't really been doing anything wrong.

"Can't fault his logic though," Sirius did nod in agreement to that, causing Lily to glare at him as she wished he was kidding.

Molly snapped back Mundungus must have missed a few crucial lessons on right and wrong then.

"Don't know what she's talking about," Remus snorted, "he's clearly looked them all up verbatim."

"So he can do them exactly wrong," James smirked.

Fred and George were keeping their faces out of sight, while Mrs. Weasley shot Sirius a nasty look at the end.

"Just what have you been up to regarding them?" James suddenly demanded eagerly.

Since the first time that place had come up, Sirius truly looked interested in the story again and waved James on eagerly in hopes he would at least find that out.

Then she got up to check on dessert, and Sirius informed Harry Molly didn't approve of Mundungus.

"So what's she glaring at you for then?" Remus asked in honest disappointment if that had been what that look was for.

"I most likely indulged him a lot before he skipped out on Harry," Sirius offered, "and maybe she didn't approve of the way I handled him when he came to tell us."

"Can't imagine that's it," Lily scoffed, "since I can all to easily picture Molly wanting to throw a swing as well."

Harry asked why he was even in the Order, and Sirius explained that he was a useful crook, very loyal to Dumbledore, knows a lot of the underbelly information that came in handy. Molly in particular disliked him because he'd skived off on his tailing duty of Harry.

"I'm positive she's not the only one," Sirius sniffed, even if he was still on Harry's side he should have known about it, it didn't negate that Dung hadn't been doing his job.

Lily was frowning to herself for a different reason, thinking that it technically was Sirius' house and Molly shouldn't be shooting looks at him for having anyone stay over. She did wonder at Sirius' motives behind this, but she knew that he didn't know now.

Three helpings of food later and Harry's pants were beginning to feel a bit tight, quite an accomplishment as they used to be Dudleys.

"Probably back from when he was single digits though," Harry corrected with a slight snort.

He was starting to feel a bit sleepy, and clearly so was the rest of the table.

Just as Molly was encouraging them all to head that way though, Sirius turned to Harry and said how surprised he was, he'd expected him to demand answers about Voldemort the moment he'd stepped in here.

They all burst out laughing at that one, though Harry blushed vividly as he was again reminded who he had demanded those answers from, very vocally.

The atmosphere in the room changed with the rapidity Harry associated with the arrival of Dementors.

"You sure do have the best timing Padfoot," Remus muttered.

Harry agreed he had, but his friends had told him the Order wasn't telling so-

Molly cut him off that was exactly right, he was too young.

Lily flushed in agitation at Molly saying that for her son. It should be Sirius' decision, and more than that, it should be hers to decide what Harry knew at what age. She wasn't the only one scowling hatefully for that comment, but somehow it hurt her the worst that she watched Harry flush with a new embarrassment as his eyes flickered from her and away again almost shamefully, like he'd just been wondering if his mum would say the same.

Sirius asked back since when did you have to be in the Order to be asking questions?

George interrupted loudly to demand of where this attitude had come from? While Fred agreed they'd been trying to get Sirius to tell them for a month and he hadn't shared a thing!

"Honestly Sirius, I think I'm impressed with your restraint," Lily seemed the only one who was surprised though.

James now looked offended for his mate as he said, "Sirius knows better than to get between a mum and her kids. Molly probably asked Sirius specifically not to say anything to them and he knows to respect that."

Lily looked chagrined enough Sirius didn't even bother to smirk at her, much.

Fred mimicked his mother near perfectly about how they were too young to be in the Order.

"They've always seemed rather good at their impressions," Remus muttered randomly as he shifted uneasily in his seat, he could already feel a fight breaking out and he wasn't even in the room for it.

Sirius returned it wasn't his fault what his parents decided to share, but Harry-

Molly cut across it wasn't his decision either!

"Hey!" Sirius barked in outrage.

"He's the only one who should get to decide," James agreed dangerously. He'd spent hours now hating the world that left Sirius the one doing so, but he'd had to come to the acceptance of it all the same. Who was Molly to be saying anything otherwise?! Harry was just a friend of one of her kids!

Her normally kind face was looking dangerous as she reminded Sirius of what Dumbledore had said.

"He's less of a right than Sirius!" Lily sneered back, looking quite dangerous herself Harry noted. "Who's Dumbledore to be telling Sirius anything to do with Harry? Merlin, we left Sirius as Harry's Godfather, and even if it's not recognized because of that stupid bloody thing everyone thinks he did, those who do know better should respect it!"

Sirius asked her of which part with the air of bracing himself for a fight.

Molly shot back the part about telling Harry more than he needed to know.

"Dumbledore needs to get a grip on what he thinks everyone needs to know," Remus snapped hatefully. First trying to keep Harry at such a terrible place he didn't want to be at, now trying to enforce Sirius do his dirty work as well, where did the man think he got the right to control them like this?

Almost everyone was watching the pair like a tennis rally.

"I imagine this would be quite a show under most circumstances," James muttered as he was honestly having a bit of a hard time picturing it. Someone they'd never even really met arguing with his best friend about the circumstances of how much his infant son should know about the Order while he wasn't even in the picture.

Lupin's eyes were fixed only on Sirius.

Sirius came a second too close to snapping, 'thanks for the backup Moony,' but managed to stop himself just in time as it really wasn't fair to be turning his temper on him now when he had just snapped in agreement with him. At least his friend Remus was still acting the same as he should be, whereas they'd still yet to see their friend really taking on his normal roll of anything regarding Sirius or Harry in this twisted future.

Sirius said back he wasn't going to be saying more than needed to be known, but Harry was the one who saw Voldemort come back, (ignoring as always the shiver that passed everyone except Harry, Remus, and Sirius at the mention of that name,) and Harry had more a right than anyone-

Molly cut him off he was only fifteen!

"Don't you cut him off just because he's making a good point," James muttered petulantly.

Sirius instantly snapped back he'd dealt with just as much as the Order at that age!

Harry couldn't stop a soft little smile creeping across his face for that. He hadn't even spoken those words to Sirius, and yet his godfather really did seem to know him so well as he'd said the same thing Harry had been thinking for a month.

Mrs. Weasley icily agreed no one was denying what he'd done, but-

Sirius cut her off to remind he wasn't a child!

Molly snapped right back he wasn't an adult either, he wasn't James!

Sirius looked like he'd just been kicked in the sack. What exactly had he been saying for Molly to insinuate that? Had he really lost a chunk of his mind in Azkaban to really not be able to tell the difference between them sometimes? Sure they looked a lot the same, but he wouldn't really-

James's face had been steadily growing more red the more he got out of Molly talking to his brother like that, but the moment he realized she'd just shot the lowest of blows at him he switched to several shades too pale for his normal coloring and stated in a flat, cold voice, "Molly just lost any of my respect."

"Dad!" Harry yelped defensively at once. He couldn't say he was pleased at Molly's coddling of him in this moment, but that was too far for him of someone he cared deeply for.

"I'm not going to let her get away with talking to him like that," James vowed without a change in expression. "Not after all he's been through, what he's still going through."

Harry glanced around beseechingly, but he didn't see anyone who didn't disagree with James. Harry winced as he did admit that Mrs. Weasley had crossed a line with that remark, but Harry still wished they'd cut her some slack as she was speaking out of anger and clearly trying to look out for him even if it was in the wrong way.

Sirius said back flatly he was perfectly clear who Harry was.

Sirius wished he had that same confidence in his future self. Despite how warmed he was James was using that icy tone, that no one in here had even thought to question the remark besides him, he honestly wondered if it was needed as Sirius wasn't as convinced that he wasn't just a bit loose around the edges, if maybe he did sometimes get the two swapped. He'd like to think he never got that bad, but well, twelve years was a long time, and he'd be wishing he had James back now more than ever in that hated place...

Molly said she wasn't as sure, the way he went on sometimes it was as if he thought he had his best friend back.

Remus suddenly realized they were the only ones enraged over this, and that in fact Sirius was trying to burrow himself into his seat and not looking at anyone, but instead seemed almost guilty of his future actions. James was too distracted by half reading, and half forcing himself not to shout as Remus leaned in to whisper, "Sirius mate, you know that's not happening to you, it never could."

Sirius only nodded as answer, and while he'd have liked more, Remus let it go for now.

Sirius should know that Harry was still in school and be responsible enough not to forget it.

Sirius demanded back, his voice rising with every word, that she was implying he was an irresponsible godfather?

Lily had said a lot about Sirius before, but never that, and she was right behind whatever nasty retorts James was interlacing as he forced himself to keep going.

Molly said it meant Sirius had been known to act rashly, which was exactly why Dumbledore was making him stay at home.

"I'm going to kill Dumbledore doing that to you!" James finally broke and yelled that bit, regretting it instantly as it only started his son crying again. Giving the book a nasty toss aside, he took him from Lily and cradled him in his arms for a moment to calm himself as much as his baby it seemed. "Don't," he said without looking up when he'd seen Harry moving out of the corner of his eye. "I'll get it in a second, just let me," he took a deep breath as he kept his baby to him for an extra second, but now the child had calmed himself back down he didn't seem to want to move again as he nestled into the crook of James's neck. Sighing with content, he managed to keep him there while summoning the book back to him, and managed to keep hold of both while forcing himself to keep going. At least now he couldn't lose his temper.

Molly turned on her husband then for backup, but Arthur took his sweet time in answering that now Harry was here, he should know some things.

Mrs. Weasley snarled back there was a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he wanted.

"I'm still struggling to understand where she feels she gets the right to say anything regarding Harry," Remus snarled under his breath as he massaged his temple.

Lupin cut in then, while Molly looked to him almost hopefully like she thought she now had an ally,

"Remus, if you actually agree with her on this, I will hold you down myself and watch them take your head off," Lily promised.

Remus just nodded silently, knowing he wouldn't fight back. If he really had changed so much he'd side with her over Sirius, then there wasn't anything left of his Marauder heritage. It didn't even matter if he disagreed with Sirius, he should stand by him anyways to her face.

but all he said was that Harry should be given the general picture from them rather than, other means. His tone made it obvious he was aware a few Extendable Ears were still around.

"There's my Moony still in there," James at least seemed to approve of this answer.

Molly was breathing heavily as she glared at everyone, giving in at last, but saying that Dumbledore had his best intentions in trying to prevent this.

Sirius bit back he wasn't her son!

Molly shot right back he was as good as.

Sirius felt a burn vanishing all his ire at her. Suddenly another woman flashed across his mind, of Euphemia Potter saying the same thing about him so many years ago now. He'd realized the Weasley's had unofficially adopted Harry, he just hadn't realized how much it paralleled his own family with the Potters. He hadn't even really been the one so angry with her right now, to worried for his own state of mind and what he could have been seeing while Harry wasn't there, and now he was confident he really couldn't say a word against her. Not after he now saw those fierce hazel eyes claiming him as Molly had just done for Harry.

Demanding who else he had?

"The fact that she even needs to ask," Lily's harsh tone came out muffled through her gritted teeth. She'd hated that sting of replacement several times now, but none worse than this where Molly was actively trying to block Sirius from doing his job, what Lily honestly wouldn't even be doing in that moment was hurting so bad she never could have imagined this feeling.

Sirius bitterly reminded he had him!

Molly's lip curled meanly as she reminded he hadn't been doing much good in Azkaban before now.

James couldn't actually allow his temper to snap again with his little charge nodding off while still trying to hold onto conscious trying to catch at his father's flyaway hair, so it just wasn't as satisfying watching Lily and Remus look ready to deck her any second like he knew he wanted to. It was least helpful of all Harry, nor Sirius were on the same boat, both were watching the three of them almost pitifully, though neither risking saying anything to the contrary it was clear they didn't fully agree. James didn't understand how Sirius could be so on this woman's side right now, how he wasn't the angriest of them all, and he would demand answers from him once his kid fell asleep and they had a real excuse to pause, but for now he forced himself to read past that moment that shouldn't exist.

Sirius began rising from his seat, but Lupin cut across both of them Molly wasn't the only one at this table who cared about Harry, and for Sirius to sit down.

"Not one word Sirius, or I'll mute you," Remus promised, his eyes still flashing dangerously as Sirius looked to try cracking a dog joke at a time like this.

Mrs. Weasley was still trembling with fury, while Sirius had to slowly force himself to retake his seat. **

Then Lupin turned to Harry and said he should have a say in this.

"Do you really think he'd say anything against Sirius' side?" James forced himself to ask slowly and calmly, better than starting to shoot curses at someone who wasn't here.

"No, but it was still a valid point," Remus huffed without looking at him, his eyes still focused dangerously on the book. Remus was really wishing that instead of telling Sirius to cool it, he was instead ripping Molly a new one for bringing that up.

Harry instantly agreed he wanted to be told what was going on. He did not look at Mrs. Weasley as he said this, too touched by her saying he was as good as her son, but also impatient with her mollycoddling. He wasn't a child.

Mrs. Weasley's voice cracked as she turned on her own kids plus Hermione, telling them to get out.

"Again, I am going to point out, where does she have the say to be telling Hermione anything," Lily hissed, far past caring she hadn't said much coherent besides that lately, this woman was pushing every last one of her buttons. "It should be up to her own parents to decide!"

Harry honestly felt like maybe Mrs. Weasley could claim there, as perhaps the Grangers had left Mrs. Weasley in charge of their daughter and what all she could know, but that was an honest guess as he had no clue of Hermione's parents relationship with anyone. He was honestly just trying to think of any defense for someone who'd touched him so deeply, but he still couldn't bring himself to undermine his own mother.

Fred and George shouted back at once they were of age, while Ron demanded if Harry could why couldn't he?

"Sadly, the parents original points against their own children still stand," Sirius said under his breath, clearly the only one going to do so, though he had no doubts all those being removed would pounce on Harry the moment he was alone.

While all Ginny could protest was that she wanted to stay.

"Poor Ginny really doesn't have any kind of excuse," Sirius muttered absently.

Mrs. Weasley began forbidding any such thing, but again Arthur cut her off, saying the twins were of age and could hear at least this.

"I- he couldn't have said that when they'd be saying that all summer! Why does he cut in now to back them up?" Lily balked at the randomness of this.

"I suppose Mr. Weasley still wouldn't let them into the Order meetings, but now when I'm hopefully just going to get a few questions answered, he thought that was okay than whatever the twins were trying to ask," Harry offered.

Molly was going scarlet as she forced herself to agree with this,

"Can't baby them all forever," Lily snapped grimly.

but then she tried to insist that Ron, but Ron cut her off it didn't matter, Harry would just tell him anyways, then suddenly he phrased it as a question as he looked at Harry.

"Now why did he ask you that?" James raised a still fuming brow. "Would have been much stronger if he'd thrown that out not as a question."

"Guess he thought I was still too pissed at him to hold his weight," Harry sighed as some pesky part of his mind snipped he just may not.

For a split second, Harry considered telling Ron that he wouldn't tell him a single word, that he could try a taste of being kept in the dark and see how he liked it.

"Ouch, Harry sure knows how to get his revenge point across," Remus winced as he watched Harry flinch at such a thing being spoken, he was not proud of that thought.

"I can't see him doing it," James said without looking up, "angry he is, but he's never been petty."

But the nasty impulse vanished as they looked at each other.

James nodded without surprise while Lily gave her son a pleased smile and Harry basked just for a moment in his parents happiness at that.

Mrs. Weasley entirely lost her temper as she shouted at Ginny to get to bed, now!

Ginny did not go quietly.

Harry gave a light chuckle to himself at that little spitfire, he had no doubts Ginny may well be clever enough to be going through the twins stuff the moment her mother was back out of sight and try to sneak back down with an Extendable Ear.

She stormed up the stairs and made such a racket Mrs. Black's ear splitting portrait began shrieking again, while Lupin ran off to restore calm to that.

"What he's usually best at," Sirius gave a half hearted smile that didn't match the still sour tone of the room.

Only when he returned next to Sirius did his godfather ask Harry what he wanted to know?

"I really do love how open ended you are with him," James forced a smile that felt like cracking plaster. At least he'd tried though, and it was as good as any attempt he could make at praising how Sirius was handling his son.

Harry took a deep breath and asked the question that had obsessed him for the last month.

Lily hummed as a stirring of emotions still bothered her for that being true, Dumbledore better show his white beard around soon to explain that mess, but listened eagerly to this news that should have long since been given to her son.

Where was Voldemort? What had he been doing? He'd been trying to find out through the Muggle news but couldn't find anything.

Sirius said that was because he hadn't been causing any funny deaths, as far as they knew, which was quite a lot.

More than he thought they did, Lupin added.

"Well that's nice at least," Remus tried, unintentionally Harry was sure, for the same smile he'd offered him that same night.

Harry asked why he'd stopped killing then, as Harry knew he had done so at least twice in the past year.

"Well don't say it like it's such a bad thing Harry," James muttered.

Sirius said it was because he was trying not to draw attention to himself, his comeback hadn't gone off as he'd wanted to, Lupin agreed Harry had messed it up for him with a satisfied smile.

"Well at least someone's having fun with this," Lily almost managed a smirk for Harry's now bewildered face.

Harry asked how, and Sirius reminded he wasn't supposed to have survived.

"But I'm glad you did by the way," Sirius inserted as James's small face twitch showed Sirius hadn't at the time.

Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know, but Harry had come back and instantly informed Dumbledore.

Harry asked how that had been helpful, and Bill reminded that You-Know-Who was only scared of one person, the very same Dumbledore. While Sirius added that thanks to Harry, Dumbledore had managed to recall the Order of the Phoenix in an hour after Voldemort's return.

"That really is some brilliant timing though," James really did smile this time. "If we'd been able to do that the first time around, I'm actually positive far more lives could be saved, a lot more could be done to cramp him up more often."

"It's not the one with the most pieces, but the one with the most knowledge," Remus agreed while both his friends rolled their eyes at him and his word wisdom talk again.

Harry asked what the Order had been doing then?

Sirius said they'd been trying to work against Voldemort carrying out his plans, which Harry interrupted to ask how they knew what those were.

"I thought that you put that one together yourself," Lily reminded Harry of his last year and watching Dumbledore give Sirius those orders.

"I was still aiming for more specifics than my guessing," Harry defended.

Lupin told that Dumbledore had a shrewd idea, and Dumbledore's ideas were normally accurate.

"I do like how you sidestepped actually giving an answer to that," Sirius told him sarcastically.

While Harry asked what Dumbledore's idea was then?

"And Harry fell for it," James said tragically, he'd have never let Moony get away with that.

Sirius said that first of all, Voldemort was trying to get his numbers back up. He used to have countless witches and wizards he'd bullied and bewitched to work for him, plus a plethora of Dark creatures.

Remus tried his hardest to smother the flinch that gave him, he really hated his job for the Order and had no delusions he'd pick back up on it for Dumbledore's orders.

He wasn't going to try taking on the Ministry with a handful of Death Eaters.

Harry watched those around him smile without humor at the idea, but then why did he get a nasty little pit swelling inside of him at the idea of that?

So they were trying to make people aware Voldemort was back to keep them on guard, they'd be less of a target for Voldemort that way, but it was proving tricky.

Harry asked why, and Tonks explained it was Cornelius Fudge.

"Still can not wrap my head around anyone being that dense," James muttered in disgust as his infants heavy breathing began lightly filling his ears, at least encouraging him to keep a gentle volume even while referring back to something he hated.

Harry tried to ask why he was being so stupid, while Arthur said it all boiled down to Dumbledore.

Tonks agreed Fudge was frightened of him.

"He's what now?" Lily demanded like she thought James was playing a joke.

Arthur added on frightened of what Dumbledore was up to.

"He's up to trying to save your useless arses," Remus still had his head cocked to the side as he tried to find any other way to interpret this news and coming up short.

Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him.

There was a moment of silence where you could hear crickets chirping in the background after the stupidity of that statement. None of the others could even think to add anything onto it, and James had to remember how to get past such a new level of stupid to even keep going.

He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic.

"But he doesn't," Remus said slowly and clearly, trying to form a proper sentence again. "If he did, he'd have done it ages ago."

"I think Fudge and Vernon could form their own group of idiots, but they're too dense to understand how to put together the meeting," Sirius muttered.

Harry tried to say Dumbledore didn't want, while Arthur agreed everyone knew Dumbledore didn't want the job, even though a lot of people had told him he should take it after Millicent Bagnold had retired.

"I'd still take her over this dunderhead any day," Lily sniffed, "pull her out of retirement or something, please!"

Fudge had never forgotten though how popular Dumbledore was when he took office, even if deep down he knew how much more clever than him Dumbledore was and how back in the early days he'd been asking for Dumbledore's help with his new position all the time.

"I would so love to pay someone to follow him around and try to at least get him to admit that though," James huffed.

He was now enjoying his new power too much, and he'd convinced himself Dumbledore was making this all up to cause trouble.

"That doesn't even make sense, about anything!" Lily still insisted as if hoping repeating this enough would make anyone see sense.

Harry was getting angry now as he asked how anyone could think that, that Harry would make it all up?

"Fudge was there when you, when-" Lily had to swallow hard to phrase that without crying from remembrance of what her son had been through, "outside that maze. There just isn't a way possible he could explain that away!"

"Apparently deniability stretches so far it can block even the worst of memories, I almost envy him," Remus stated.

Sirius explained that if he accepted Voldemort was back, it would put the Ministry in a state of fear they hadn't had to cope with in fourteen years.

"Just because you're pretending it's not happening doesn't mean it's not," James felt a growl building in his throat as he got that out, but the vibrating was already stirring his restless charge and he forced himself to temper off.

Lupin switched back to explaining the problem with the Ministry denying Voldemort's return, it put the rest of the populace in a dangerous position of being made unaware anything was happening, leaving them all vulnerable to the Imperius Curse for starters.

Harry felt a shiver creep up his spine at that idea of so many left unprotected, all the damage Fudge was doing to countless people just because he was afraid. Harry had now seen fear do so many things to people, and yet he still couldn't imagine acting in those same ways.

Harry looked around the table beseechingly as he asked if anyone was telling?

Sirius gave a humorless smile as he reminded that with a ten thousand galleon price on his head,

"Really? That was actually more than I was expecting. You think if- ouch!" He yelped as Remus smacked him hard for making light of that.

he could hardly stroll around the street handing out fliers.

"Oh but it would be so much more interesting if I did," Sirius persisted, trying to duck around Moony's swinging hand now, "what better impact than- ouch, Lily!"

Her eyes flashed, threatening to use worse than a stinging hex on him if he kept poking fun at this while his friends still adopted fear filled looks at any mention of it. Sirius honestly just did because it made him feel better to pretend this was funny than be reminded who had put him in this situation, but held his tongue back nonetheless in hopes the subject would just be changed off of him.

Lupin added next that he was not a popular dinner guest, as being a werewolf tended to be an occupational hazard.

"Remus," James began in agitation.

"What? I'm not wrong," he shot back at once with his arms crossed.

"We still hate the way you phrase that," Lily snipped at him, while he rolled his eyes at the lot of them. There really wasn't a nice way to say it, though they all tried to pretend otherwise.

Harry was just gazing sadly at Remus for a moment as an extra surge of hatred flashed for Snape, Skeeter, and everyone else who had been making Remus' name so public of late. It's no wonder if he'd been doing worse since he'd left Hogwarts, he clearly had a hard life without people automatically reacting to his name.

Sirius added on for them that Tonks and Arthur would get fired if they tried anything, and they needed people inside the Ministry they could trust.

They have managed to convince a few though, Arthur added on, Tonks and Kingsley for instance. Kingsley in particular was useful to have on their side, as he was leading the hunt for Sirius.

James had to cut off his snort of amusement with a small cough instead as he turned worried eyes on Sirius, though at least his best friend tried to play that off as a joke again. "Now I wonder how that meeting went? Would really hope I sat in on that one, though do you think it's too much to ask Kingsley to start spreading word of just how dumb it is to be looking for me at all?"

"Well my liking for Kingsley just went up tenfold," Remus muttered.

He'd instead been giving false information that Sirius was in Tibet.

"Bleh, no way could I survive out there, I couldn't stand replacing my diet with yak milk."

"I am going to smack you," Lily promised him.

Harry began in confusion if no one was spreading word, but Sirius reminded about Dumbledore, and pointed out why he was in so much trouble with the Ministry lately.

"Ah," they all muttered, at least Dumbledore was doing something besides annoying the piss out of all of them.

He'd been going around telling anyone and everyone with a trace of fear that Voldemort was back, and the Ministry was trying to retaliate by discrediting him as an old man losing his grip. They'd already taken away his Chairmanship on the International Confederation of Wizards and had voted him out of his Chief Warlock position on the Wizengamot. They were even trying to take away his Order of Merlin, First Class.

"Can they actually take that away once it's given to you?" Harry frowned at a rather mean blow in his opinion.

"Only if they can prove he didn't rightfully earn it in the first place," James shrugged without much care.

Bill added on with a grin Dumbledore said he didn't care though so long as they didn't take him off his Chocolate Frog Card.

"That sounds like Dumbledore," Remus muttered almost wistfully, still half hoping to hear the return of the headmaster they knew and trusted rather than this control freak ruining both Harry and Sirius' life of late.

Arthur snipped at his son this wasn't a time for laughing,

"I think you all need a few good laughs," James mumbled pitifully, wondering when his friends had fallen out of that business, knowing it had happened at the point he'd stopped being around turning them into these cold, barely recognizable people.

if Dumbledore carried on in this way he'd wind up in Azkaban.

"I'm honestly not convinced that place could hold him," Lily said mostly to herself, "or more over, that they could get him there."

"Can't deny it would be a show to watch them try though," Remus sighed without any humor.

Harry stared oddly at them for a moment but was too distracted to really let that sink in.

Harry asked if Voldemort was recruiting for more Death Eaters, word was bound to get out that he was back then.

Sirius reminded Voldemort didn't exactly go door to door to do this.

"Yeah, he only did that to Crouch, and that didn't seem to work out too well for him," Sirius finished himself with a roll of his eyes, then went cross eyed as he realized what he did.

James was just ignoring him at this point.

He tricked, jinxed, and blackmailed them all as subtly as possible. He also had bigger plans than just that.

When Sirius hesitated, Harry pushed what else while Sirius and Lupin exchanged a look.

"Now you're asking the real questions," Lily said a bit eagerly, her boys reacting that way must mean Harry was starting to scratch at what supposedly was too much information.

Sirius began slowly and carefully that it was something he could only get by stealth.

Harry automatically guessed it was a weapon, adding on he didn't have it last time?

Sirius agreed, and Harry wanted to know if it was more powerful than the most deadly curse, but Mrs. Weasley broke in that was enough!

"Damn that woman!" Sirius barked in frustration, causing all of them to jump, though thankfully the baby slept on. "If I want to tell Harry every little detail, would you just let me get on with it."

"You're just pissed because she cut in at the good part," Harry softly rebuked.

Sirius shrugged as he wasn't going to deny that while the others were just happy to see their normal Sirius again agreeing with them.

Harry hadn't realized she'd come back, but she marched into the full room again and snapped at every last one of them they'd heard enough, now get to bed.

Fred began protesting she couldn't boss them-

"Actually, I'm sure she can right to your own place," Lily muttered tersely, in no mood to defend her, especially to the twins, but that one had come out on impulse.

she snapped back he was going to watch her do it. Then she turned still burning eyes on Sirius and said Harry had been told enough, any more and he may as well be inducted into the Order.

"Please, please just ignore her and keep right on going," Remus placed his hands together and actually pleaded, there was no way she could actually cut off there when that had been a real answer for once!

Harry instantly agreed to the idea, but the word no was spoken sharply again, this time by Lupin.

"Remus James Lupin, I am renouncing your middle name just for that," James huffed at him, though his eyes were too dark for the joke, it was clear he didn't actually find it funny Moony had switched sides.

"You know I hate it when you call me that you twit," Remus huffed, though there was no force to his return, he felt bad himself like he'd give himself a good smack as well.

"Exactly why he did it," Sirius pointed out as he slumped back into his seat with a pout.

Remus turned on him and was fixing to start a snip right back, but Lily cut them off by telling them to hush so that James could hopefully find out just a little bit more.

The Order was only comprised of those overage, and had left school, he finished with a look at the twins.

"Honestly I don't see why though," Remus butted in, whether to keep in his friends good graces or honestly meaning it they weren't sure. Honestly it was just a sight to watch him argue with himself for a moment no one was going to stop him. "I think some spies in school would be just as useful, could surprise the lot of them how much you learn in that castle."

"Well I won't say I'm not pleased they haven't stepped that far yet," Lily rolled her eyes, thinking telling Harry these things was one thing, but actually going full through with making him an official member and expecting him to do work for them while in school really was pushing it. There did still have to be some priorities.

Then he turned to Sirius and told Molly was right, they'd said enough.

Sirius just shrugged and didn't argue.

James's face puckered as he honestly struggled to imagine that. Not his Padfoot, who had to be almost physically restrained from backing down from any fight, who only did so while still grumbling that he hadn't gotten his last say in like he was still doing now for his and Remus' tiff. The dynamic between Remus and Sirius' friendship had clearly changed just as much as the two themselves, and James was sick of hearing about these strangers passing as his friends.

Mrs. Weasley beckoned imperiously to her sons and Hermione. One by one they stood up and Harry, recognizing defeat, followed suit.

"Chapter's done," James announced as he gave the book another careless toss away, and got up to put his infant down for a proper nap.

HPHPHPHP

There's a lot of Molly lovers, and a lot of Molly haters, and most of them all center around this chapter. Really, like with Ron in the last book, there's no way to make everyone happy, but I do hope you enjoyed this chapter and what I ultimately had them all feeling for her. I won't deny this chapter truly did annoy me, as Sirius is given so much crap from Molly and Dumbledore telling him how to treat Harry when in every way possible it should be Sirius' decision. This will be the worst of what's said about her, I did promise and I will never break that promise that this'll never hit bashing territory for any character. Everyone gets a fair shake with me, as everyone does have their high and low points.

* You know, I'm actually not sure what that is supposed to be. Probably is something random we're just never told about. I kicked around a few ideas, like the Ministry for one though I can't come up with a reason why they'd need building plans for that place since people from the Ministry work there, but I suppose it could be documents of the Department of Mysteries, but I honestly doubt those plans exist and no one of the Order's been inside there, so I'd love some suggestions of other places those plans could be.

**I'm aware that Sirius technically was 'the first of thirteen to rise and so the first to die,' in that moment, but honestly it'll never be brought up by my characters as they won't be digging past the moment to realize that. Just something fun I enjoyed seeing someone point out once.

#The LIfe that Never LIved #Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #hp #Ootp #The Marauders #jilly #James Potter #Lily Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius black

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