#AND with the STUPID way glasses places organize/name their glasses

[obstinaterixatrix]

This is so sad the frames looked great on me but they were too small 😔 guess I gotta go hunting again

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶After a lifetime of questionable decisions, you moved from the big city to the sleepy town of Hawkins with your best friend, and took the first job you saw: answering phones for the most boring auto shop in the dullest place on Earth. It wasn't exactly the adventure you wanted it to be.. but attempting to win over the jaded mechanic who insisted on ignoring your existence proved entertaining.✶

NSFW — slow burn, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, flirting, mutual pining, angst, drug/alcohol mention/use, depictions of poverty, sort of grumpy x sunshine but eddie's just tired, reader and eddie are mid-late 20's

chapter: 1/20 [wc: 5.5k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 1: Surprise, Surprise

“Yes.” A simple answer which spawned as many awkward scenarios, as it did great ones. Your name was spray painted on the side of a bridge, you spent nights learning to tango on abandoned rooftops, the amount of tales you accrued of bad dates could fill a self-help book.

Whatever the question was, the answer was “yes.” Life was more exciting that way.

Well, your policy usually lended itself to exciting adventures, anyway.

Currently, you were sat behind a desk with your boss, Mr. Moore, who slouched on his black stool with his cheek propped on his fist, pointing a pencil at a customer’s pink invoice sheet in front of you, explaining who to call in the spiral-bound catalog for the parts to be shipped.

The tall counter top partially obscured the both of you from employees and customers alike, but as you soon realized, the number of employees was slightly above two, and the customers even less; and if any of them paid you any mind, you couldn’t tell from the disorienting mix of exhaust fumes, dirty oil, and grease wafting in from the glass door on the left.

Thus began the first day of your new job at David’s Auto Repair. Boring.

————

Your second and third days were hardly different. Arriving at the butt crack of dawn and beginning the routine that definitely wasn’t in the ad in the newspaper: clean the bathrooms (hey, at least they had two), start the coffee pot after scrubbing off years of neglect caked onto the inside, and organize the paperwork Mr. Moore left for you in his office.

Oh, and most importantly, after locking up your bike outside the front door, you made your way through the echoey workshop and poked your head out the back door to the parking lot–which, by all means, was a gravel alleyway with overgrown trees blocking your view beyond the sleek black car parked next to the dumpster.

“Morning!” you greeted the one employee who arrived early and stayed late. “Eddie, right?”

The man leaning against the gray brick wall didn’t bother acknowledging you. Didn’t lift his head from its dropped back position, nor open his eyes. Definitely didn’t take the cigarette out of his mouth to bestow you the gift of his chipper attitude, nor did he uncross his arms to offer you the bare minimum wave.

And much like the other days, you sat perched behind your desk and beamed up at him as he walked past you to the break room. And as usual, he slid his gaze to you. And like normal, he didn’t say anything.

But he did hold your eye contact for a fraction of a second longer, albeit, he looked a bit frightened when he did, as if he were suspicious of your smile.

You listened to the clunk of his heavy boots fade down the hallway, then return with him holding a mug of coffee.

This time, as he walked by, he remained vigilant, and your grin went ignored by his stupid big brown eyes surrounded by envious lashes.

Lucky you, the reception area was essentially a glass cage. Behind the black pleather seats for customers was the glowing blue sky, and beside you were floor to ceiling windows showcasing the artificially bright garage where the man in grease stained coveralls twisted gaudy rings off his fingers and placed them on a tray with his coffee, before picking up a dirty rag and popping open the hood of the car he worked on past closing last night.

“You’re welcome for the coffee,” you mumbled in a mocking tone, sneering at his red name patch–Eddie. “Jerk.”

————

Friday was different. You locked up your bike, chucked your backpack into your chair behind the desk, and made your way to the back of the garage for the routine, “Good morning.”

For some reason, you decided to reveal your whole self; more than your head stuck out the door, or rising above the countertop customers leaned on when trying to schmooze deals on parts–hell if you knew how to do that, anyway. You didn’t get paid enough to bargain.

You stepped onto the uneven gravel and surveyed the scenery, looking both ways down the alley to the major roads on either side leading to the heart of downtown Hawkins. Absolutely dismally silent. Void of life. Except for the small things you never noticed, like faraway birds, the hum of a distant motor, buzzing bugs before they disappeared for the cooler months. You felt the dew settling on your forearms, and swore you could smell impending rain on the cloudless day.

“Is it always this quiet?” you asked, face pinched in confusion as you took it all in. “I swear I can hear my own thoughts.”

Eddie may not have appreciated your joke, but he did surprise you.

He kept one of his arms crossed over his stomach, and took the cigarette from between his lips to flick the ashes. “You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked the dilapidated fence across from him.

Feeling cheeky, you schooled the thrill out of your voice from getting a response out of him, and said, “What gave it away?”

A drag on his cigarette was his wordless answer. Fair.

“I’m from New York.” The implied City followed without clarification. “Just moved here last week. My roommate’s from Hawkins, and she had to move back to help take care of her parents. They’re older and her dad has some health problems, and yeah, I couldn’t afford rent on my own, so you know, why not. Why not follow her to a town so small it’s impossible to find on a map.”

All your talking earned you a magnificent thing. Eddie finally opened his eyes, if only to pin you with a mild glare, and a skeptic pinch between his brows.

He said more to himself than you, “You must really like your roommate to come here.” The inflection at the end was both amusement and contempt, no doubt.

“We met in our first year of college and became best friends like that–!” You snapped. “Both theater kids going to school for acting, and we later made a comedy troupe with a few other people. When she asked if I wanted to move with her, I said ‘yes.’” Inclining your upper body towards him, you explained, “It’s sorta my thing. If anyone asks me anything, I say ‘yes.’ Obviously, I can veto shit that’s dangerous or crosses any boundaries, but it’s my policy to try everything. Life makes better stories that way.”

Your unique brand of wisdom furthered his obvious distaste for you.

Eddie inhaled his vice until the orange glow burned to the filter. Smoke fell from his mouth in a rush as if he were about to speak again, but he didn’t. He merely stared at you. And if he were having a staring contest, he won.

“Well, have a good day, then,” you said, spinning on the toe of your shoe.

You sat in your glass zoo for the day shuffling papers, making calls, and filling out forms. Most definitely not talking to the guy who appeared annoyed at your very existence.

Unfortunately for him, Hawkins was tiny and the pickings were slim.

Maybe it was his eyes, or the way the short layers of his choppy hair cut escaped his low bun to curl themselves in face-framing waves, or the fact he was twenty-years younger than the other two mechanics, but you took a liking to Eddie, much to his dismay. And due to your affinity for his annoyance, you noticed the subtle changes in his appearance sooner than you should. 

————

Dark purple circles announced the lack of sleep under Eddie’s eyes before the bags could. Bloodshot and struggling to open past a sliver, he sucked down half his cigarette before the routine minutes of peace he carved into his strict schedule were interrupted by the newest knot in his muscles.

“Good morning!” you said.

“Morning,” he returned without thinking about it. Rookie mistake.

You stood closer this time, inching down the brick wall, approaching him as if he would startle like a wild animal to get a better look at the years wearing heavy on the fine lines etched into his face. Perhaps no longer ‘fine.’

“You good?”

He didn’t have the energy to put up his usual front. With his chin dipped to his chest, he kept his eyes closed, nearly drifting to sleep as he muttered, “Long night.”

“Ah.”

Your clumsy shuffling alerted him to your movement, and he reluctantly observed you standing a few feet in front of him, rocking on your heels. He filled his chest with an incredulous sigh before you even spoke.

“You seem like you could use some cheering up,” you beamed. “I could juggle for you! Should I do three or four?” Eddie’s jaw went slack, and the cigarette stuck to the wetness inside his chapped lips. You bent down to gather large rocks into your palms, opting for four when he didn’t answer.

You stood up and stepped back. Made a big show of tracing invisible arcs above your head with your gaze, readying your hands. Sucking in a breath. Building suspense while his expression slowly crept into one of tempered curiosity.

Tensing, you tossed all four rocks into the air, and made a genuine effort to catch them before they fell unceremoniously around you, bouncing off the gravel in your scramble.

Clasping your hands behind your back in feigned shyness, you announced, “I don’t know how to juggle.”

For a moment you thought he was going to continue to regard you as if you were a bug in his coffee.. Then his veneer cracked.

He snorted. The cute way, when someone’s trying to suppress it. A subtle shake in their shoulders, keeping their head down, and their smile hidden behind the heel of the palm.

Eddie hugged his arm tighter over his chest, and chastised himself, “Why’d I let that get me.”

And truly, when he flicked his gaze to you with the lopsided remnant of his grin, you were imprinted with the heat of his wonderment, and your body remembered that feeling. Sensing it later when you sat at your desk, tapping your pencil, rattling off a series of numbers and letters for engine parts, and you snuck a coy look over the phone at the exact moment Eddie turned around to ask Carl for a wrench instead of getting it himself from the tool box near the window.

And he felt your stare during lunch when you promised an irate customer their car would be ready by the end of business hours, and hung up the phone with the type of heavy-handedness one used when implying a ‘fuck you’ without stating it.

You pushed yourself from the desk and went to the fridge in front of the circular table in the break room, eyeing Eddie’s odd choice as you walked by. A bologna sandwich–fairly normal–but also a stained orange tupperware container with an array of dried out microwaved leftovers. A corner of spaghetti, pale instant mashed potatoes with three peas stuck on top, unidentifiable sludge that may have been beef stew at one point, and a handful of Kraft mac n cheese.

Pitiful amounts of food that most people would’ve thrown out.

Not that you should judge. Your lunch was the blandest rice-based meal your roommate’s mom made the night before. The woman had never heard of salt, much less other spices, but she was letting you live in their attic for free until you and Bobbie found a place to live.

Breaking your chain of thoughts, you smiled at Eddie on your way out.

He didn’t look up from his paperwork.

Wholly ignored.

————

Over the rest of the month, you learned there wasn’t a definitive pattern to which days of the week were hardest for Eddie, but it was clear when he was enduring the worst.

As the evenings grew cooler, you left the lobby door open, and in doing so, were wise to the bite in his words, the edge to his voice. The quick apologies to Carl when he let his frustration show. The fluidity of ‘fucks’ flying past his mouth, the way he wrung his nape while staring into the distance, and the lurking stress of bottled emotions causing his teeth to grind.

He approached you with concern spurned from the windows being painted black with night.

“You don’t have to stay behind, you know that, right?” Eddie got your attention in the doorway. You blinked at him, still seeing the words of the book you were reading swim past your vision. “I have a set of keys. I can lock up when I’m done.”

It was the most he’d said to you in two weeks. Three entire sentences composed of more words than he’d uttered if you added them all up since your juggling stunt.

“I don’t mind.”

A meager response which resulted in a standoff.

Eddie wasted no time bunching his shoulders at your defiance. He left streaky fingerprints on the door handle as he reached for his neck, and tucked his fingers under his collar to run his thumb along his chain necklace in a self-soothing gesture. A layer of grime coated his skin. His disheveled hair stuck to his sweaty, dirty neck. The front of his coveralls were blackened with grease, as was the white tank top he wore underneath, peeking above the unfastened top snap.

On the other hand, you overturned your palms and glanced around the barren room. “Is it really that much of a bother that I’m sitting in here being quiet?” you drawled.

“Yes.” Automatic irritation.

“It’s not like I have somewhere to be.”

“Don’t have a comedy routine to rehearse with your roommate?” he intoned in complete monotony.

“Ha-ha,” you replied, just as emotionless. You thought about correcting him in regards to you and Bobbie no longer doing stand up, but decided to grab your backpack and leave without putting up a fight. His concern about you staying late may not be genuine, but it was evident he wanted–or needed–you gone. You didn’t want to push his boundaries when he showed this level of discomfort, especially when the burden of fatigue wore beyond acceptable exhaustion, and he was ready to snap, no matter how hard he tried to quell it.

You surrendered, “Bye, Eddie.”

No reply.

In total darkness, you unchained your bike and hopped on, pedaling past the mailbox when you heard the thunderous slams of the service doors being lowered shut.

And you made it to the edge of the trees before coming to a screeching halt in the middle of the empty street, cracking your neck at the speed of which you whipped around to gawk.

Your heartbeat skipped, then timed itself with the extreme drum beat and opening wail of a guitar accompanied by high-pitched screamed lyrics.

The music may have been muffled, and the inside fluorescent lights struggled to penetrate the dense fog from the upper warehouse windows, but it was as if Eddie was subjecting the desolate parking lot to his own personal Judas Priest concert, hearing be damned.

You didn’t even know the dusty radio in the shop worked. But whatever helped him blow off steam, you supposed.

————

Today was a good day.

Eddie liked Fridays. Most people working weekdays did, but when he came inside early from his morning cigarette, and you hadn’t finished sweeping the shop, he made a point to idle around the orange car at the center, seeking your attention and offering an apology. Not a spoken apology, mind you. But it was rare he initiated eye contact, and when he did it with the purpose of showing deference in his softened features, you understood.

You forgave him with a gentle lift at the corner of your lips for an incident yesterday afternoon, wherein he grunted at you to leave him alone when you were telling him about one of the plays you and Bobbie acted in. Sometimes you required your own reminder of when you were being annoying, and gave him an apologetic smile for bothering him. He nodded. All was right with the world. All was forgiven and now he could get to work.

He wiped his hands down the sides of his coveralls, and leaned his upper half through the open car window to reach the latch for the hood.

The perfect opportunity to mess with him presented itself in all its glory. But first, you couldn’t resist taking a long.. long look at his backside, head tilted, mouth more than a little hung open.

“Huh?” He nearly banged his head on the roof, rounding on you with the sharpest glare in the Midwest.

Under the guise of perfect innocence, you kept brushing the broom over his work boots and toward the dust pan. “Sorry, sir, just doin’ my job. Gotta clean up the filth.”

“An actress and a comedian, huh?” he posed, allowing his smirk to foster as he gripped the edge of the door. “Gonna tell me you were a clown, next?”

“Actually..” You were interrupted by Carl coming in, followed by the near-retired Kevin who worked two days a week.

You greeted them loud and proud, overdoing it in the joy department at the ripe morning hour. Asking about Carl’s wife, and Kevin’s dog; really laying it on thick for the purpose of sending a message to the looming ghoul behind you: I’m annoying you on purpose now.

Still, as you entered the lobby, you caught sight of the sneaky grin on his face before he turned his back to you. A tight-lipped thing he was clearly trying to rid himself of while pulling his hair back into a low bun, and taking the time to tie up a bandana to keep everything out of his face, thus losing his security blanket from the world perceiving he wasn’t in a permanent bad mood.

And of course, Eddie kept up his act through lunch. Stomping through the lobby in that way people did when they were so very obviously trying to appear aloof, and coming across as anything but. Eyes staring straight ahead, but too wide and too aware to not be soliciting a reaction from their periphery. Chest out, muscles flexed. Posture the very opposite of casual, causing them to walk in a stilted manner like a robot.

And his charade continued when he came back from the break room, rounding the corner with softer steps. Slower. Hanging onto the precious milliseconds where your back was to him, and he could absorb your image freely without being noticed. Then, he lifted his chin and returned to his project, pretending you weren’t there.

Yep, so painfully obvious when he forgot reflections existed and you were surrounded by glass.

~~~

Fridays were the days he anticipated most. Work was grueling, and he had many things to finish before the break for the weekend, but he didn’t mind staying late. He preferred it.

Fridays meant he could rely on someone else handling the stressors at home, and he was free to earn his late hours at the garage, indulging in his loud music, and unwinding the constant state of tension lurking beneath the surface. It was the only way he knew how to cope. To stay sane.

Yeah, he loved Fridays. Until a surprise came running at him in her tiny pink shoes.

Eddie screwed his eyes shut and exhaled a long, hard breath through his nose.

“Sorry,” came Wayne’s earnest apology as his nephew wilted; shoulders sagging, head hung. Tapping the wrench he was holding on his thigh. Trying his best to keep it together. “Don’t mean to drop ‘er off on you, but work called me in, so I came here after picking her up.”

Turning away from the engine he was installing, Eddie assumed his authoritative voice, but it came out as a weary sigh. “Adrienne, you know the rules,” he warned lowly, “No running in the shop.” After a beat, he corrected himself. “I mean, no being in the shop at all!”

She giggled as she skipped away from him, sloppy pigtails bouncing with mirth, plastic glittery shoes slapping the concrete floor where a myriad of items she could trip on laid.

“Adrie!” He called out, but she was too busy opposing him to pay attention.

Lucky for her, a certain receptionist caught her by the shoulders before she crashed into a rogue tire.

“Whoa there, little Miss!”

You looked to Eddie for further instruction on what to do with the girl currently laughing up a storm at your feet, but he was frozen. A bit paler, and wringing the back of his neck. Unable to articulate any of the broken consonants on his tongue as he stared at you. You switched your gaze to the older man beside him, but he was equally confused as to why Eddie was having trouble speaking.

Addressing anyone who would like to volunteer an answer, you asked, “And who’s this?”

“This.. This i-is my daughter. She, I, Goddamnit–I’m sorry, can you take her inside? I swear she’ll be quiet. Right, Adrie?”

Seeing the pure desperation settle around his eyes, you assimilated into the role of babysitter, wanting to alleviate his anxiety despite the sudden surge of your own. You held your hand out for her to take, and she did so without a second thought, grasping onto you with her little fingers and standing up, being the one to lead you to your desk.

As the door closed behind you, you overheard the older man clear his throat under the strain of bad news. “The water heater is broken again, and I couldn’t– ..Before I had to leave.”

Their private conversation was sealed behind the glass. You didn’t care to eavesdrop. It was too heartbreaking watching Eddie frantically catch his fingers on his bandana before removing it so he could tangle his curls into his fist, tugging them over his face as he groaned in a fruitless effort to hide himself from the world.

But on the subject of his brunette waves..

His daughter had the same curl pattern. Almost the same cut, too. Clearly Eddie was the acting barber of the family. Something you’d find adorable if it wasn’t for the pang of rejection in your stomach.

Daughter. Family.

The words repeated themselves in your head as your eyes wandered to the black tray beside the tool cabinet. He wore several large rings. Lots of jewelry, in fact, but you couldn’t remember if any of them were a wedding band, and the embarrassment of developing a crush on a married man for weeks without taking two seconds to cross reference his left hand burned your cheeks hot.

“Hi,” his daughter said cutely, swaying from foot to foot while holding two of your fingers.

You crouched to her level. “Wanna draw while we wait?” She nodded, sucking on the tip of her thumb.

Steadying your spinny office chair while she climbed into it, you made sure she was comfortable before bringing out the black stool from Mr. Moore’s office, and sitting next to her. You opened your backpack, flipped to a clean sheet in your sketchpad, and presented it to her along with your colored pencils.

“Hmm, what should we draw?”

Adrie snatched the bubblegum pink color, and began her masterpiece. “Mrs. Teresa read us a book about a mouse.”

Thank God she said it was a mouse, because you didn’t want to be the one to guess what the two oblong circles on the page were.

Adorably, she filled you in on the parts of the story she remembered, and added a triangle of yellow cheese under the mouse, then waited for you to prompt another thing to draw. You followed the nocturnal theme and asked for an owl. She hesitated on what colors to choose, and you helped her pick out the shades of brown and tan.

“How old are you?” you asked while she inundated her bird with too many feathers.

“Four-and-a-half,” she said proudly. “How old are you?”

You raised your brows. “Certainly not four-and-a-half.”

At some point, your arm had wrapped itself around her. Maybe to help shift her closer to the desk. Maybe to collect her in a pseudo-hug when she completed her art. Maybe to let Eddie know everything was okay when he craned his neck to check on you while conversing with the man outside, and you put on your best face, grinning at the story his daughter reenacted about a cartoon she watched that morning at preschool.

“What next? What next?”

“Let’s see.. Can you draw me a bat?”

She was more sure of herself, grabbing the black pencil and outlining an entire colony of bats mid-flight with more attention to detail. “My daddy has bats.”

“He has bats?” you questioned, sweeping loose hair out of her face.

She pointed to her elbow.

Thinking on it for a moment, you perked up. “Oh! He has tattoos?” She recognized the word, nodding vigorously. “Interesting, interesting.”

She’d hardly begun to fill in their wings when Eddie opened the door, and held up the comically small backpack slung on his arm, signaling it was time to leave.

You helped her down from the chair, and she excused herself to the bathroom, which only contributed to the awkward silence when she disappeared down the hall and Eddie was forced to wait at your desk.

It didn’t have to be analyzed, nor stated. The reality.

He had an entire life outside of work.

Duh. Of course he did, but still. It was one he never shared with you. Not like you earned the privilege to know, or to be included in anything he didn’t want to divulge, but with how private he was, it came as a surprise.

Invoking the thousands of dollars you spent on acting classes, you moved on, and kept your tone light, “The butterfly backpack suits you. Not sure about the color, though. Bright pink clashes with your navy blue outfit.”

Tough crowd.

His sulky demeanor permeated in his dull gaze trained on his stained sleeves. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Dumping her on you like that. Normally my uncle has the day off work and can take care of her, but he’s gotta go in because someone called out sick, so, yeah..”

If it were at all appropriate, you would reach across the countertop to soothe him from picking at his torn cuticles. But it wasn’t appropriate. So you didn’t.

You locked your hands behind your head and leaned back in your chair. “Funnily enough, I worked a brief stint as a clown for children’s birthday parties, so I’m actually quite comfortable entertaining them.”

“I’m shocked,” he said, void of shock. Finding the strength to lift his eyes from the animals she drew on your sketchpad to the encouraging curve of your lips, he tried to match your grin, but it fell flat. “At least you can go home on time today.”

You sucked in a breath for a quick retort, but Adrie interrupted you in her tiny voice, “Daddy! I can’t reach the sink!” And maybe that was for the best before you humiliated yourself more.

Because, the truth of the matter was, you always had the ability to go home on time. It was only because Eddie stayed behind that you made excuses to sit at your desk past your scheduled hours, prattling off some nonsense about memorizing the catalog.

“C’mon,” he said to his daughter, supporting her on his hip. “Let’s get going.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but it wasn’t exactly patient, either. The creeping exhaustion he kept under wraps was breaking through. Stress fractures in the mask he wore around others. The sanity he gripped for dear life for the sake of Adrie.

He caught the empathetic pinch between your brows, and used the last of his energy to turn so his daughter could see you. “Say ‘bye,’ and ‘thank you’ for playing, Adrie.”

She waved with the same enthusiasm as a golden retriever wagging their tail. “Bye! Thank you!”

“Bye, Adrie,” you laughed. “Bye, Eddie.”

Like usual, he didn’t respond. Today that was okay.

————

Eddie was on the verge. He was trembling, failing to loosen a bolt on the water heater to investigate why it broke–again–when his hair was yanked–again–and his knuckles scraped a bent piece of metal–again.

He was kneeling on his kitchen floor, craving nothing more than a shower to wash away the work week until his skin burned, but he was not afforded the simple luxury.

No relaxation. Not for him. No one to call on when Wayne was gone. This was his life to fix. On his own.

After repairing cars all day, he was exhausted. Touched out. But Adrie needed something from him, something he couldn’t understand with his tired mind. All he wanted was a break. All he needed was a break from her using his coveralls to scale his body. All he sought was the energy to deal with her pulling his hair.

But he was not spared the fortune.

“Adrie, please,” he resorted to begging. And when she didn’t stop, he withdrew his arms from the closet, and pried her hands off his hair, peeling her away and setting her on the floor.

She made to grab him again, but he used his waning strength to squeeze her arms to her sides, giving her his full attention she fought for.

“Can I get you a snack? Or put something on the TV? Do you want a nap?” He listed off anything, shaking and desperate.

“I wanna play with Daddy.”

Guilt amplified the shame.

He was a shit dad. He knew. He did his best and it was never good enough.

“I know you do,” the words fluctuated in the wake of water stinging his eyes. “I know you do, but Daddy needs to fix this. I can make you a snack and you can eat it in the living room. How ‘bout that?” Under normal circumstances, that wasn’t allowed. She had a penchant for dropping sticky food on the carpet–which was just another thing he’d have to get around to cleaning–but he was willing to bend the rules for the promise of a shower.

Adrienne thought about his offer for a long while, and settled on his deal.

And yet, it was hours.. hours until he was able to sit down.

The water heater required more service than he initially thought, and his daughter wasn’t entertained by herself for very long. She came to him in intervals of minutes, climbing up his back and hanging from his neck. He stopped caring. He didn’t have it within him. He made sure she was safe, and that was it.

He fed her a dreadful dinner, and she was so happy for her overcooked noodles in pasta sauce. He saved the leftovers. Put them in the nearly-empty fridge and took out two beers for himself, cracking the tops before sinking into the couch.

Adrienne stood between his legs while he wrapped her in her favorite blanket, and placed her in his lap. The top half of his coveralls were tied by the sleeves around his waist. No matter how dirty he was, this was how they ended the night. Him staring blankly at the TV, and her cheek on his chest, ear pressed to his white tank top, listening to his heartbeat. Curling her fists into her tattered quilt in response to him nuzzling the top of her head, and resting there in a content hum. Closing his eyes. Turning off his brain. Tipping back swigs of beer until he felt better, and giving her kisses until she giggled and squirmed.

The kisses were as much for her as they were for him, giving and receiving the only affection in his life. Apologizing for earlier when he couldn’t stand to be touched.

Her hug was small, yet powerful. Clumsy, but what he needed. Another person to gather in his arms and have their weight fall asleep on his chest.

He collected Adrie, and gave her a few more doting kisses while carrying her to bed.

“Stay, Daddy.”

Sometimes he did, just to have a real bed to sleep in, but with how long it took to fix the water heater, there was only enough hot water to bathe her. He’d have to wait until the morning.

“Not tonight, Daddy’s still dirty from work.”

It hurt to walk away. It hurt more to sleep on the lumpy couch. Hurt worse when Wayne came home to crash on the roll out bed, and the sun funneled through the windows, and the day started all over again.

Hurt the most when Eddie thought about the surprised look on your face when you learned he had a daughter.

Hurt the least when he imagined a world in which you wouldn’t care, and still flirted with him come Monday morning, because fuck, it was the only thing he looked forward to after Adrie’s meltdowns on the way to school.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The Memory Keeper

Chapter 3: Frame

Pairing : Noa x human reader

Warning : grieving, otherwise, none!

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words : 3k+

A/N : Well, well, well, chapter 3 is out! Enjoy your reading 😁

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

You watched as the flame devoured the kindling and gnawed at the petals you'd carefully placed in their usual circle. It progressed slowly, longing to consume every piece of wood and petal it found in its path. Knees braced against your chest, one arm wrapped around your legs in a vain attempt to maintain the cracks you felt growing deep inside your ribcage.

Why was it getting so complicated?

A tear fell onto the frame you held, fingers shaking, above your knees. You quickly wiped it away, not wanting the moisture to stain the glass that protected the picture from the long years gone by.

Why was it so complicated? You repeated to yourself once more, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your top. You noted that you still hadn't changed for the night. You had to take a deep breath, it always helped… supposedly, it always helped, but the shaky breathing that was supposed to be helpful only allowed more tears to fall down your cheeks.

But why? Why couldn't you calm down? Why did your eyes seem to drown despite your best efforts? Why, over the past three days, had it become so difficult to even breathe normally? Why was it so difficult to keep your heart beating regularly, so regularly that you sometimes forgot you even had one?

Usually, it was easy. One or two slow, deep breaths. Your hand removing the tear drop from your skin, preventing others from joining it. Sometimes you'd close your eyes to focus on this task, and when you'd open them again, indifference would quietly resonate deep inside you.

So why tonight, for the third time, did you feel this organ so vital to your body crumbling, shattering, giving up on you a little more with each beat? Your eyes blurred, making it difficult to see the photo in the frame. No matter how much you blinked to clear your vision, it remained stubbornly blurred. But you wanted to see it… no, you had to see it, but the more you forced yourself to wipe away those tears, the more they rushed in to tangle and alter your vision. You clenched your fist around the frame as the other desperately tried to restore your sight. You had to look at him. Every night, you had to remember. You had to remember him, the features of his face, the color of his fur, the way he carried himself. You couldn't not look at him.

Unwittingly, your knuckles turned white and the pressure on the already worn wood increased. If you didn't look at him, you'd forget. You'd forget, just as you'd forgotten the words to that song you'd hummed every night as the petals turned to ash. You would forget, just as you had forgotten the faces of your parents, and of those whose existence you could only remember by their first names. You weren't allowed to forget, just as you weren't allowed to forget how to speak. So you had to look at him, you had no right to forget him.

Maybe if they had never come to your clearing, maybe you wouldn't be in this state, only three days after their arrival, three days since you seemed to be having great difficulty keeping a steady gaze. How stupid to bring them fish for three days so they could eat, so they could feel welcomed as you would have welcomed two friends back in a very distant past. How stupid of you to remember that a human, to remain human, had to give a proper welcome to his guests, whether they showed up unexpectedly or not. How stupid not to be able to keep things in perspective. How stupid. And you rubbed your eyes again and again until you felt like ripping the skin off your face, when suddenly…

A crack.

Your breathing stopped in a flash. All your muscles froze. You were no longer shaking, your heartbeat had almost stopped its frantic race and your eyes were now wide open, your tears frozen in the fear of having to look down.

The broken pieces of wood threatened to fall to the floor, and the only thing holding them together was your hand crushing the frame against your skin. The bark of the crumbling wood stuck to your hand like hundreds of grains of sand, and it was only as you loosened your fingers around the frame that your hand began to shiver again.

No.

No no no. This couldn't be happening.

The tears had become dry, allowing you to see the foolishness you'd just done. The wood of the frame had broken under the pressure, no longer able to hold the protective glass in place. The picture would end up in the open air, exposed to external aggression, exposed to moisture, exposed to time that just kept flying by without waiting for you to be ready to watch it roll by.

The picture would be damaged, the colors would fade, the events it had frozen in time would disappear along with the last image of the ape you called, with a sinking heart, your friend. And for as long as you could, you would cling to a mental image of him that would inevitably end in oblivion. You were going to forget. Of course you were going to forget. Maybe not in 1 year, 5 years or even 10. It might take you a lifetime as an uninfected human to forget, but it was going to happen. It was the only fatality of your condition, your body didn't age, but on the other hand you couldn't keep your memory intact, you had to give up part of your memories in exchange for a long life. One that was too long.

For the first time, as you firmly held the broken pieces of wood in the vain hope they would glue back together, you realized how tired you were.

In your turmoil, you'd shifted to a more cross-legged position, with the shaky frame gently placed in front of you. You had taken care to arrange the pieces of shattered wood so that they formed the frame around the glass, now detached from the frame.

With your gaze locked on Caesar, your quivering fingers rested on the glass in a gentle stroke.

“P... please forgive me, Caesar,” you whispered, your voice hoarse, almost desperate for forgiveness that would never be able to come.

You breathed in as best you could when all of a sudden, the cool wind touched your skin. The wood of the old floor creaked and you abruptly wiped away the last of the tears that had found their ways onto your cheeks.

Clearing your throat.

Rubbing your eyes. Your cheeks. Your whole face.

Brand-new you.

You looked back to where the sound had come from and your stony eyes fell on the two apes. You remembered very well having told them that it was going to rain during the night and that if, only if, they had no other choice, you would allow them, to a certain extent and with a few precautions, to enter.

How silly.

The apes weren't usually the type to fear the rain, but when you offered, almost against your will, to spend the night in your home until the rain stopped, they seized the opportunity to talk to you. To talk to you and convince you to let them keep your horse.

You could see them walking cautiously inside your house. Their eyes were everywhere, curious and careful, as if they didn't want to glance at an object, a piece of furniture, a corner of the large room that would be off-limits to them.

Noa immediately noticed your nest, which was a bit unusual; he couldn't quite work out what it was made of, certainly not branches or down, and the blanket covering it wasn't the fur of any animal you'd caught either. But he knew from the intensity of your scent on the fabric that this was where you slept. He looked away quickly. This was your nest, and if you had allowed them in, checking out your nest and judging it would be seen as disrespectful by his people. He at least wish it was comfortable for you.

It didn't take long for his eyes to find yours. You were sitting cross-legged, and it was hard to know whether you'd changed your mind about allowing them into your home. With your blank stare, you showed them nothing, happy? Surprised? Angry? Annoyed? None of these things were apparent, and it was beginning to drive him mad. He wanted to shake you, to bare his fangs and at least provoke a reaction, even one of fear, which he would accept, because this impassive face was making him ask questions he wished he'd never had to ask.

Emotions and facial expressions were the key to communication for apes. So how could echoes communicate if they all had the same blank face? How could they respond appropriately to each other's words and behavior? How do you build trust? Bonding? Did all the echoes really have that lifeless face? How could he know that his behavior wasn't offensive to you? How could he know that he was doing the right thing for you to simply agree to communicate with him?

And it had only taken him three days to get used to this inexpressive face. He was so used to getting no emotional response from you that he didn't immediately notice that behind the cloudy veil of your eyes, something had changed.

Noa had to look twice, and even then, he still wasn't quite sure what he'd just seen appear in a corner, somewhere well hidden, deep in your eyes. Noa had always been good at reading other apes' thoughts and feelings. You'd given him a hard time not showing anything, but he finally saw it. A little sparkle, as delicate and transparent as it was, as shy and barely recognizable, he had finally found what could look like sadn… And you lowered your eyes, ending this exchange in which he'd never thought he could lose himself in such an involved way. Had you figured out that he'd seen it?

Had he noticed? A pang of anxiety deepened in your stomach. You couldn't stand his stare any longer. Nor were you in any shape to have your soul probed by a chimpanzee you'd met three days ago and didn't even know the name of. Yet you knew it was important to them. Caesar had taught you well, explained it well: apes are observant, they communicate mainly through their eyes, and not allowing them to look at you could mean that you didn't trust them, or rather, that you didn't want to trust them. And not wanting to trust an ape could just as easily mean that they couldn't trust you either.

Was it why you'd allowed him to dip his green eyes into yours? To tell him silently that he could trust you? Or rather… that you trusted him?

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally stood up, heading for your chest. If they were staying the night, you could at least lend them a blanket. You rummaged in your chest, and under the 3-4 items of clothing, you grabbed two old blankets that you used in turn with the one on your armchair to sleep on.

You approached them silently before handing them the blankets.

“For… the night.”

You felt compelled to clarify what you meant in front of their inquiring eyes, and just as you were about to return to where they'd found you on arrival, Raka's husky voice caught your attention.

“Do you have a name?”

It was true that after three days, you hadn't taken the time to make any introductions. It wasn't very humanly polite, you thought to yourself, nonetheless pondering on answering him. Of course you had a name, but it had been so long since you'd been asked that it took you a split second to remember it… (Name). But was it really necessary to give it to them? As you were slow to answer, the orangutan went on:

“If you don't have one, we could call you… Nova?”

Nova. You knew that name. Somewhere deep in your memory, you could recall a girl. A little girl whose name was Nova. But that couldn’t be, it was way too long ago. Therefore you chose not to dwell on it. The chimp beside Raka gave him a quizzical stare as well and you managed to decipher the sign language Raka was giving him as a respond, being "will explain further later".

"I’m (Name)." Was all you could say.

Though your eyes lingered on the chimp and Noa swears he saw you sign a "you?" but it could only be his mind playing tricks on him.

To tell the truth, he hadn't been imagining it. You couldn't consciously bring yourself to ask his name, so your subconscious did it for you. After a few seconds of silence, you thought maybe he hadn't noticed your request or maybe he didn't want to answer this silent question, which, on reflection, wasn't such a bad thing: it was easier to forget without knowing names.

But he had finally decided otherwise.

“Noa.”

You nodded silently. Noa and Raka. Two names you'd surely remember for a long time.

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

You'd taken your seat in front of the fireplace again, the only difference being that you'd taken the blanket that had been lying on your armchair with you. You had wrapped yourself up inside it to protect yourself from the fresh air of the night, and your fingers had mindlessly begun to skim the outline of the frame that was still on the floor. You were almost desperate. No matter how hard you thought about the best way to repair the frame and protect the precious treasure inside, your brain couldn't come up with a solution.

As focused as you were, you didn't even notice when Noa pointed to the wall above your head where your lists were lined up and arranged in columns.

“Do you know what these are?” Noa signed to Raka, who answered with a “no” nod. “Maybe… ask her?” Raka signed back.

But would you answer him? Until now, you'd never really exchanged more than two words apart from the first day when you'd caught them wanting to take your horse. Maybe you wouldn't accept his question, and maybe you might even take it the wrong way if he ventured to ask you a question that… concerned you too much? He'd kept in the back of his mind your reaction when Raka had wanted to help you pick up the rose petals.

“Not a good idea.” Noa signed again. “She gave fish, and the blankets.”

Raka shrugged as if that were enough to justify the fact Noa could ask you a question without batting an eyelid and you were kind enough, in spite of everything, to answer him.

“If you want her horse, you have to speak.” Raka prompted.

Noa huffed quietly, resigned. He had to talk to you.

You jumped when the wooden floor creaked beside you. Your eyes immediately went to Noa, who was taking a closer look at the lists on your wall. His voice buzzed in his ribcage and your gaze followed the movement of his hand, pressing down on one of your lists.

“What… is this?”

Silence.

Noa lowered his eyes to yours, feeling the need to perceive an answer from you, even though he already suspected he'd find nothing in your veiled gaze.

Perhaps if he looked harder, he'd be able to see again that melancholy glint he'd seen earlier, but you'd obviously managed to hide it even deeper. He wasn't going to get you twice in a row.

Unable to find what he was looking for, and frustrated by your silence, he was drawn to what your fingers were fiddling with on the floor.

Noa didn't understand the object at your feet. He had no idea what it was and out of curiosity, he crouched down, trying to get a little closer to the shape to understand its use. He could feel your puzzled gaze, almost on alert for the next move he might take, but he decided that as long as you didn't push him away, then he was allowed to continue his inspection. You had most certainly hovered your hand over the transparent plate on purpose to prevent him from seeing more precisely what it was, but whatever it might be, there was only one possible conclusion.

“Broken?” he asked.

Noa sought your gaze again, and the answer he found completely baffled him. He hadn't said much. One word. Just one word. And yet, the glimmer he had glimpsed with difficulty when he first entered your hut had just leapt into his face like the solution to a question that had been left unanswered for too long.

Sadness.

He could see it clearly, clearer than the water in the river. Echo's eyes were sad. This sudden emotion you were offering him as if on a platter of berries, this emotion he'd been searching for in you for three days, wondering if you were really capable of such a natural thing, this emotion, he suddenly didn't know what to do with it.

If the rose petals you'd picked up were important, this, this object you were shielding from his eyes with your hands, was certainly far more important. So important that it triggered an emotion in you capable of being expressed and given as a gift.

You closed your eyes. Maybe you'd given him too much. You closed your eyes and Noa noticed the long sigh that made your chest expand and contract.

And then, nothing.

Like the sun reaching the last horizon before fading behind it, there was nothing left in your eyes.

He watched you lay the blanket on the broken wood before getting up and leaving your house. Noa abruptly sought comfort from Raka, who gave him only one sentence in return.

“What have you done this time?”

-----------

Tags list: @callsignwidow / @youdontknowe / @katzykat / @koshi-sama / @violet-19999 / @queen-luna-007 / @sciencewithottsnpotts / @sparks0918

(I hope everyone is tagged properly!)

[m1d-45]

the rule of threes

summary: “subject two” was created in the image of a god he could never fulfill. how does that turn out for him? (spoilers, not well.)

word count: 3.4k

-> warnings: major spoilers for albedo lore, rhine is Not A Good Person, uh ig allusions to gore but nothing bad, incoherency in General

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

“have you ever tried to create life from nothing?”

for a woman of science, rhinedottir was acting rather scatterbrained, frantically pulling bottles from shelves. each of them was twisted, and eventually returned to their place, the small plate above them marked with red.

“to sprout a seed with no water, to make a flower bloom within your hand?” it was a wonder she was still talking to him, crazed eyes always searching for his. did she think he’d run off? it wasn’t as if he could, with the doors bolted shut. “impossible. impossible. the slightest of changes in the ley lines ruins everything- have not one of these survived?”

that was new. he’d thought the lab was low enough no elements flowed, or at the very least the rest of the city blocked it. that’s what he’d always believed, as it was the only solution for his failure.

or was it him that was the problem? he didn’t know. he may have been her first success, but he was also her first failure.

bottles stopped returning to shelves, glass shattering on the floor and sending thick sludge all over the floor. fragile bones cracked on impact, half formed bodies crumpling with splats that made him cringe.

it wasn’t rare to see her so angry, but it was rare for her to take it out on her work. still, he did his best to ignore her, bringing his legs onto his chair and twiddling a pen between his fingers. it didn’t make it easier to block out the sound, but he did feel better when he could focus on tracing a square over and over, trying to keep the lines as thin as possible.

“stupid, stupid stupid stupid! i told them this would be revolutionary, but all they think about is their god-“ their what? “-and they don’t even try to listen to me! of course they didn’t, because what do i know? i’m only the-… the…”

he did look up, then, seeing her staring at a bright bottle. at least a hundred shattered bottles lay at her feet, yet she didn’t seem to notice, transfixed by the single flask in her hand.

“the greatest alchemist in the world,” she whispered.

all at once, she turned to him, boots crunching over flesh and bone as if it were nothing. he winced back slightly when the squish of her boot made some of the sludge splash up, landing halfway up the leg of his chair.

“look.” he didn’t want to. her eyes were wide and crazed and he was terrified. the bottle itself was harmless, the organism inside curled underneath and far from consciousness, but she.. “he lived.”

he gripped his pen tightly, forcing a nod.

“he’ll be perfect.” that’s unrealistic. “i just know it. look at him.” you’re being irrational. “he needs a name.” you don’t even know if he’ll survive.

she walked away and began to pace, seemingly not noticing the tens of half-formed corpses beneath her feet. “a name, a name…”

what a sight. for someone so set on creating life, she disrespected so many.

he looked back down to his paper, continuing his exercises. around the square, then the other way, then the hexagon. the lines grew thicker as the amount of sides increased, his pen slipping on the page. still, he kept his hand as steady as possible, breathing slowly. he could just ignore her. it’s not like she’d ask for his input, so he can just focus on the shapes, keeping each angle as sharp-

“hey!” his pen slipped as his shoulders jumped, dark ink soaking through the page. he turned, and found her frowning at him, bottle clutched in her hand. “pay attention. this could be groundbreaking; whatever you’re doing doesn’t matter in the face of perfect alchemy.”

he was doing as he was told. practicing his lines, slowly taming the tremors in his hands, stopping every half hour to train with the ball she’d given him for that exact purpose. ten squeezes with one hand, ten with the other, ten between the palms, and a quick massage of the muscles. as he was asked.

“i’ve decided on a name, if you care.” she turned back to the bottle, all traces of anger dissipating. she smiled at the bottle, carefully twisting it in her hands. “he will be nigredo.. the first stage of my magnum opus.”

his eyes flicked to the bottle, a small ember of resentment burning in his chest.

“as you wish, master.”

‘nigredo’ didn’t last long. within a month or so, his bottle blackened, eventually cracking altogether. he was there when she came back, finding the bottle leaking on her desk. she’d panicked, frightened, her concern eventually bubbling into anger.

the bottle had hit the wall just beside his head. something soft trickled down his cheek, landing on his paper. he lifted his hand, feeling dust fall from a small slit in his skin. he looked over to rhinedottir in shock, but she wasn’t looking. she was pacing angrily, glaring at the paperwork on the desks around her like it would be the next thing thrown. he didn’t want to bother her, he didn’t, but whatever sand was pouring through his skin was making him panic.

a breath in, a breath out. she didn’t seem any less upset than the last time he looked.

“..master?”

his hands flinched tighter when she whipped to look at him, his pen skidding across the page again.

“what?”

“my.. my cheek.” he took his hand away from it, but the dust continued to fall. “the bottle hit me.”

she stared, confused. “what bottle?”

“nigredo’s.” his chest burned, bitter, but he pushed aside his feelings. “i.. don’t believe this is normal, is it?”

another stretch of silence, her eyes flicking between his and the wound on his cheek.

“why would i do that?”

“i’m not suggesting you’d hit me on purpose-“

“why would i throw him? no, i.. i was going to fix him. i wouldn’t do that.”

it was his turn to stare, shocked. “but… you did.”

the dust hitting his page was the only sound in the room, neither of them moving.

“don’t be ridiculous,” she eventually said. “i wouldn’t hurt him like that. i have no reason. why would i waste so much of my time like that? all my effort into imitating the div-….”

“…you were angry. people say and do uninthings when they’re-“

“and what would you know about people?”

that was cruel.

his synthetic heart beat in his ribs like it wanted to flee, the dust continuing to pour from his skin in a stark reminder of his inhumanity.

“…master-“

“i’m leaving. i expect this place to be clean when i come back.”

he didn’t even flinch when she slammed the door. such things were regular occurrences.

“…what’s this, master?”

“he has a name. durin.”

another one with a name. when would he earn his?

“i see. my apologies.”

“whatever. go say hello.”

“pardon?”

“you heard me.”

sand was still trickling from his cheek, a brief wave coming quicker when he frowned. “master, i don’t think-“

“he doesn’t bite, it’s fine.”

and to her credit, he hadn’t.

(“rhinedottir! what have you done?”)

(“i’ve done many things. could you clarify?”)

(“w-what’s this?” his body was dead, but he still felt the way durin grumbled and hissed. “what have you made? we’re willing to look past a lot of your experiments, but this-!”

(“watch your tone. he’s perfect.”)

(“rhine-“)

(“why can’t you all just trust me? you act like i’m touting myself around like a god-“)

(“you are. your hubris will get you killed-“)

(“by who? what? who’ll dare to touch me? …nobody. exactly. nobody, not even that thing in the sky that calls itself the creator.”)

(“rhine-!”)

(“no. get out. you’re disrupting my work.”)

(“you know how celestia is, they’ve already started approaching the gates-“)

(“then let them come. you’ve seen my work. we’ll survive the battle.”)

(“what of the innocents? what of the kids and the elderly, those that did nothing wrong? do they deserve to die for you?”)

(“…if i deserve to die, then nobody deserves to live.”)

in his opinion, there’s only one thing worse than dying: figuring out you hadn’t.

the constant beat of a dragon’s heart had finally dulled, and with it his uncertain stasis ended. he was brought back to life, surrounded by bones that weren’t his, unsure which way was up.

the bones were tough to break, but a small sliver off the end made it easier to cut through flesh. he didn’t know why he was alive, or how, all he knew was the red blood oozing around his hands and a drive in his chest that told him to survive. his skin was hot, his clothes clinging to him and adding to the feeling of being trapped, the sludge around him unrelenting in its quest to keep him there, inside, stuck in the chest of this beast-

the air was cold. his heart was colder. the ground was hard where he fell, humming with energy from the core he just escaped. he looked up at the heart, his own beating frantically, and watched the space that he had carved for himself seal up, as if he was never there to begin with. the blood and flesh left on his clothes—he was still wearing the same thing from that day, torn and flimsy—soaked into the ground, making the earth burn a vibrant red.

durin had died too, just as nigredo had. he was the only one left. the only one left of rhinedottir’s creations, accused of killing the first and nearly dying to the second.

or…

well, he certainly wouldn’t be surprised if she’d kept her other projects quiet. he was hardly allowed to leave the lab, let alone the palace, so who knew what she was up to? it could be any number of things, knowing her.

he pushed himself up on shaky limbs, uncharacteristic anger fueling his thoughts. he never hated rhinedottir before, but now that he was betrayed, what point did he have to try and care for her? she never gave him her love, so why did she deserve his?

with a hand on the wall—flesh melded into stone, he didn’t think about how long durin had been sitting here lest he be paralyzed by time—he began to stumble toward the exit of the cave, his legs stiff. he felt like when he was first created, shaking and confused, except now he knew that he was weak due to muscle atrophy and not his nerves struggling to fire.

(“there you are,” she had smiled. “let me help you down, i’m sure it’ll be hard on your own.”)

(it was. he clung to her as his lifeline, hands shaking and knees wobbling. the room was bright, loud, his mind pinging from object to object as he reached for anything he recognized. how strange, to be formed fully conscious and yet without any knowledge of the world around you. no words to describe the softness of the cot she sat him on, no name for her eyes as she gently picked up his hand, tracing the tremors.)

(“are you scared?” he didn’t know what that was. the lab was confusing, emotions he didn’t know how to handle bubbling and overflowing. “i’ll take care of you, it’s okay.” a hand to her chest, a soft call of her name, the first word he ever knew one that belonged to her.)

(he’d done his best to learn to say it, but he was imperfect. his hands quaked, his tongue was stiff, and by the time he’d managed to say it in full she had corrected him to ‘master.’ he only learned the concept of time when he was told he was using too much of hers, sequestered to a corner of the room where she didn’t have to look at him.)

(maybe that was why he wasn’t given a name. why would he have one when he couldn’t even recite it?)

with a shake of his head the memory was cleared, mind once again centered on the cave. perhaps he should sit, try to clear the fog over his head… the air was getting colder the further he went from the heart, white dust flickering in the air. ash? no, too bright…

he lowered himself to the ground carefully, leaning against stone. already he was tired, and he’d barely made it halfway out. how long was he… not asleep, perhaps unconscious? he didn’t know.

something was—howling? calling? what was the word? was all that time spent with a dictionary was for naught?—loud, crying out and filling the whole cave. maybe whatever was moving the white… what was it? it looked soft where it piled on the ground, yet to survive in the cold air… all of it melted before it reached him, but he wanted to know what it was.

(curiosity.)

the ground was rocky, but he had plenty of practice in pulling himself where his legs could not take him. across the lab, into a chair, to the shelf when his master was too busy to get it herself. he guided himself around a sharp stone, stopping a few inches away from the substance. already some of it was beginning to land on his clothes, settling into the creases as he pulled his legs up to his side to sit more comfortably. he lifted his hand, watching as a few of the particles landed in his palm. they were small, details too fine for him to fully pick out. they melted slowly in his hand, fading away, but many more soon took their place. they were cold, but he hardly felt the chill anymore, transfixed by the sight. they had to have a name, right? something soft, to adequately describe the gentle fall when they weren’t whipped around by whatever force lay outside the cave, had to…

“have you never seen snow before?”

snow. snow. ah, that was a nice word for it.

“i haven’t.”

he looks up, finally, and sees another man standing there. he has light hair and a blue shirt, a white lab coat overtop. an odd orange crystal sits at his collar, just below a diamond shaped mark on his skin in the same color.

“who are you?”

they both ask the question at the same time, and he’s surprised by how hollow he feels when asked. he doesn’t have a name, not even a designation or title. anger began to spark in him again, but was cut short by the other man putting a hand to his chest.

“i am the chief alchemist of the knights of favonius, here to determine any changes resulting from the uncharacteristic ley line activity recently.” an alchemist… his master was an alchemist, wasn’t she? was she still alive? maybe she knew this man- could he see her again? would she remember? maybe him being eaten by durin was a fluke, maybe she’d say sorry and maybe his survival was enough proof of his worth that he’d get what he’d longed for for so long.

“my name is albedo. what is yours?”

the world stopped turning. the snow stopped falling. everything froze, his world sharpening to a pin, his breath pausing as he looked into the eyes of the man with a name.

the creation with a name. albedo.

“…her magnum opus.”

albedo blinked, but didn’t seem all that surprised. “so you are another of master’s students.”

‘student.’ he was lucky she afforded him a spare pen, but he was taught?

(what did he know? he wanted to know too. what did his master do? what else was there to learn? how many books of knowledge existed beyond the four walls he’d grown to hate? could he finally put the sights to the names? what was the sun and how did it rise, what was a day and how did it end, what was the world and how did it work?)

(curiosity.)

“how interesting. she told me of a few trials before me, but i didn’t expect you to be-“

“were you created too?”

say no. say no and tell him he wasn’t the only one. say no and say it wasn’t his fault. say no and say he wasn’t a failure.

“…yes. i was.”

anger was bubbling and beginning to rise, irrational and yet uncontrollable. he shouldn’t be angry at albedo, he’d done nothing wrong, but his heart refused to obey.

“did she speak of me?”

“i don’t know. she spoke about durin, sometimes, and mentioned one of my predecessors. are you nigredo?”

nigredo died. nigredo died, and yet he was worth more of her time.

how?

what made him so imperfect? what was wrong with him being a first attempt? that didn’t mean failed. first didn’t mean failed, it meant first.

he was the first. had she not completed what she set out to do? synthetic life, an abiotic creation, proof of her knowledge and ability, proof it could be done at all. what part of him made him so inherently worthless? why did she want perfection? why couldn’t he be perfection?

albedo walked closer, more details coming into focus. the buckles on his coat—not a lab coat, then, or perhaps an altered one?—and the lines on his boots clear enough he could see them. when he crouched in front of him, he could see the gem on his collar sway slightly, the spikes on its inlay now visible. he leaned away, one hand tightening into a fist where he’d set it in the snow, the cold sinking into his palm. it rushed up his arm and into his chest, settling right next to the burn of his anger.

“when did you get your name?”

“when i was first able to ask for it.” albedo took his hand despite how he tried to pull it away, easily overpowering him. “interesting. you don’t appear to have any body heat of your own, and yet are shivering.”

(anger.)

“are you scared?”

(rage.)

“has she sent you? is that why you’re here?”

“not at all.” he let his hand fall, idly swiping a bit of snow from his shirt. his hand was warm. “i came here to inspect durin’s heart. did you come from there?”

(righteous fury.)

the snow in his hand packed together, the swirl of flaming anger and frigid resentment making his chest heaven as he took in air he didn’t need.

“i was eaten by him.”

“you survived being eaten by a dragon? a commendable feat. did you dig your way out?”

with hands that shook and eyes that couldn’t cry, supported on weakened legs and with bones barely able to keep me up. were you fed as often as i was? you look much less wiry.

“is that why your hands are shaky? perhaps i should take you to my lab…”

yes, the lab, take me there and fix everything that’s wrong with me, give me writing exercises and assure me it’ll pass, that i’m something broken, that you know better, that i was never and would never be what you wanted or strived for. tell me often enough and i’ll believe it, i’ll believe you when you say i’m wrong, believe you when you say it won’t hurt, believe you when you promised it would be okay, for you were the master and i were the slave-

a string that wasn’t his snapped, another’s anger channeled through him. all he could see was red, a chalk heart in his ears demanding he hit before it was returned. who, he didn’t know, nor why, a torrent of thoughts released through him, years of anger melting the ice around them.

albedo didn’t deserve his anger, not really. but his master did, and he was the closest thing.

[rainsoftenings]

MOLDY REFUSE HEAP — You study the earth. A pitiful attempt at compost lies before you, a smear of dirt and disarray, with plenty of manmade, shattered objects strewn in alongside the organic material. A loaf of bread, still wrapped in its plastic lining, though with a huge gash on the side exposing it to the elements, is festooned with little brown mushrooms.

INLAND EMPIRE — Those mushrooms are looking at you. Mocking you.

YOU — What? They're mushrooms...

INLAND EMPIRE — Look at that one with its ugly little head. Looks like a big wart, and also like it's giving you the finger. Are you going to let that bastard give you the finger?

HALF-LIGHT — SHOOT IT! It's trying to make you look stupid!

YOU — [Draw your gun and aim it at the mushroom-bread wad.]

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant shifts nervously, trying to parse your movements. He'll no doubt wrest the gun away from you should the need arise.

YOU — [Shout.] "Tell me the name of God, you fungal piece of shit!"

SHIVERS — The bread, which once seemed inert, writhes with life before your very eyes. Wheat from faraway fields is milled into flour, mixed with water and sugar and yeast and baked in some mass-production facility God knows how far away only to come to rest, spurned and uneaten, at your feet. No, not uneaten- the yeast, another fungus, was killed, incinerated, in the process of baking. The mold reclaims what remains of its fallen brethren. If you listen close enough, you can almost hear it speaking...

SHIVERS — CAN YOU FEEL YOUR HEART BURNING. CAN YOU FEEL THE STRUGGLE WITHIN. THE FEAR WITHIN ME IS BEYOND ANYTHING YOUR SOUL CAN MAKE. YOU CANNOT KILL ME IN A WAY THAT MATTERS.

YOU — [Cock your gun.] "I'M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU!"

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant's muscles tense now, poised to strike. A look of apprehension- no, fear and concern- crosses his face...

YOU — [Shoot the piece of moldy bread.] PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — You hadn't realized it, but your whole frame is trembling, shaking. Tears stream down your face. You hunch, in shame and agony. Like some forgotten gargoyle creature out of myth.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Medium: Failure] — The recoil sends a throb down your arm, like you've just been kicked.

KIM KITSURAGI — He places a hand on your shoulder, and you flinch. "Detective, if I may be so bold as to ask... What did you mean by that?"

COMPOSURE [Difficult: Success] — Hey now. Straighten up. It's Kim. You must answer in a coherent fashion.

 INLAND EMPIRE — Screw coherence. The fervent squigglings of your brain will emerge from your mouth until the very stars blink out.

YOU — [Compose yourself.] "Decay exists as an extant form of life."

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant blinks, bewildered. He has no response to that, to your frighteningly calm visage, still stained with drying tears. Behind him, the drunks raise their glasses of brew, yowl a cheer.

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL — "Terrifying answer, Tequila Sunset! Have a nice day!”

[cantstoplovingjude]

Underneath the Black Veil: Jude Jazza Premium

This is from Ikemen Villains EN, Cybird owns everything.

(What a disgustin' place.)

I cursed inwardly in front of the church altar after I put all the followers to sleep.

(Why the hell would I bind myself in an eternal promise to someone else, as if that made anythin' better?)

(A vow of love's nothin' more than a curse.)

(What's so great 'bout cursing each other to stick together in sickness or in health?)

The sacred atmosphere, the solemn sound of the organ, the sweet fragrance of the flowers... It all seemed cursed to me.

No "vow" could ever be considered beautiful.

Not for me, anyway.

Just then, the door opened and Kate appeared, wearing a jet-black dress.

(Damn, she looks nervous.)

I watched as she pressed her lips together and looked at me.

The moment our eyes met, a strange look came over her face.

(What's that all about?)

She got this dreamy look in her eyes, like she had a fever or something.

And she began to slowly walk down the aisle toward me.

(Ha...)

(What an idiot. Don't tell me ya got caught up in the moment?)

(Sometimes she's so damned stupid I actually worry about her.)

Jude: "What're ya doin', facial exercises?"

Kate: "Huh?"

It was like she didn't even realize she'd reached the altar until I said something.

She just blinked at me.

(She took on the daft job of being Fairytale Keeper 'n so far she's kept her promise.)

(What a hopeless princess.)

She stood there in her wedding dress, looking utterly defenseless.

The thought crossed my mind that I could tear her to shreds in an instant if I wanted to.

Jude: "Lookin' like you're on another planet. Sure ya wanna get hitched?"

Just then, a gentle-looking man with long hair and glasses appeared.

(Must be the leader.)

Man with glasses: "We are gathered together today to celebrate the true love between our new followers."

Amore: "My name is Amore, the leader of Amour. I am a servant of love, who will grant your love eternal."

(This git's a total nutter.)

He made all these exaggerated gestures while he spoke like some kind of dimwit.

It was so creepy I was getting goosebumps.

(Could just shut him up right now by puttin' him to sleep.)

(But I've gone to way too much trouble. I won't be satisfied till tease her a bit.)

I remembered the investigation report I read on the way here.

("The lovers are most likely poisoned somehow once they take their vows.")

In that case...

(An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. And poison for poison.)

Amore: "Now, there is no need for vows between two people who truly love each other."

Amore: "So if you pledge your eternal love, close your eyes and seal that pledge with a kiss."

Kate: "...O-oh."

Kate's breath caught in her throat.

(Why's she so flustered when she knows we're not gonna actually do it?)

I grabbed her chin and felt her tense up beneath my touch.

And when I pulled her closer, her eyes were so big you'd think they were gonna fall out of her head.

Kate: "Ah..."

Jude: "Hm."

(Look up at me, princess. I'll move my face close to make it seem like we're kissin'.)

Her cheeks slowly turned red as she tipped her face up toward me.

(...Huh?)

(Does she really think I'm gonna kiss her?)

I stared at her in disbelief, watching as her lips trembled.

I could tell she was a nervous wreck.

But even still, she squeezed her eyes shut tightly.

(Hah...)

(I didn't think even she was this foolish.)

-Flashback-

Kate: "I'm sure lots of people don't actually believe that their love will last forever just because they exchange vows and have a ceremony in a church."

Kate: "But what's important is that they tell each other they intend to keep those vows."

Kate: "And when they think they might break their vows, they'll remember that day when they swore to each other."

Kate: "And maybe that'll keep them going to try to find a solution."

-Flashback ends-

So naive it made me wanna throw up.

But it probably sounded like the truth to her.

(Stupidly honest, ridiculously obedient and to good for this world.)

(A princess who never knew hardship in her life, who truly believed in her ridiculous naivete.)

(To think a woman like her would swear to stay with me forever... What a joke.)

I envied her for believing in such ridiculous positivity...

But at the same time, the sadistic side of me wanted to ruin it for her just to make her understand.

Jude: "...Ya actually closed your eyes?"

Kate: "Yes?"

Her eyes, which had been closed to accept the kiss, fluttered open.

Jude: "Ya really are an idiot."

I stared into her wide eyes as I brushed my lips against hers.

Her body trembled as she stared at me in shock.

Kate: "A-ahh..."

Jude: "Pfft, look at that dumb face."

(Maybe this'll teach her a lesson for once.)

Amore: "Well, then. I hereby recognize you as husband and wife. Now I shall make your love eternal."

Amore: "Pour this wine into each other's mouths."

Amore dramatically took out two wine glasses.

Jude: "So, this your secret remedy for makin' love eternal, huh?"

Amore: "Yes, that's right."

I was certain the wine was poisoned.

(Haha. What a nice smile.)

I started to feel excited when I pictured that smile distorting with pain.

Jude: "By the way, didja know your waiters spilled water on us today?"

Amore: "...Huh?"

I poured the wine over his head, drenching him.

I aimed just so that I could be sure it would go into his eyes, nose, and mouth.

Amore: "Bwaaah?!"

He immediately became distraught and rushed to the cupboard by the altar.

Kate: "What in the world is he doing?"

Jude: "Lookin' for the antidote, I'd bet."

Kate: "Antidote...?"

The color drained out of her face.

She must've put two and two together about the wine.

Kate: "How did you know?"

Jude: "I read Victor's report on the way here."

She stared at me as if to say this was the first she'd heard of it.

(Course it is, 'cuz I didn't tell ya.)

(If I'd told her, she would've blurted out somethin' stupid anyway.)

I ignored her gaze as I walked over to Amore as he took out a vial from the cupboard.

And I grabbed his wrist before he could open it.

Jude: "Ya ever heard of gettin' a taste of your own medicine? That's what ya deserve for makin' other people suffer."

Jude: "Why'd ya get to live while others die? Selfish piece of shit."

Amore: "Ugh... arghhh!"

(I can make ya scream even louder.)

(The poison must be taking effect.)

Amore: "Th-there's no time! Let me go! P-please, I'll do anything!"

Jude: "Anythin'? All right. How 'bout we sign a contract?"

Jude: "A contract to do whatever the hell I say till ya die. You'll make that vow, won't ya?"

After I saw him nod, I let go of his wrist.

He looked so frantic I almost laughed as he gulped down the antidote.

(Yeah, yeah. Nice job.)

I poked his forehead with my fingertips.

And, with my ability, he instantly dropped to the floor in a deep sleep.

Kate: "What do you plan on doing with him?"

Jude: "Haven't decided yet."

I looked down at the leader, who lay on the floor.

(Could use him for experiments, throw him onto a cargo ship...)

Kate: "Hey, where are all the followers, anyway?"

Jude: "Dreamin'. Even the guy playin' the organ went down in the middle."

(At any rate, the mission was a success.)

(That's what she's probably thinkin'.)

I let out an exasperated sigh when I heard her sigh with relief.

Jude: "Had no idea ya were 'bout to sign a dangerous contract, huh?"

Kate: "What?"

She blinked at me and tipped her head cutely to the side.

(Did she already forget what happened?)

(She's more dangerous than I thought.)

(How in the world did she manage to survive this long?)

Jude: "The whole, if ya wanna pledge your eternal love, close your eyes deal."

Jude: "Ya closed your eyes. So ya wanna spend the rest of your life gettin' tortured by me, huh?"

She took about five seconds, and then it finally hit her.

Even her neck turned bright red this time.

Kate: "I thought we had to kiss so you could have a chance to catch him!"

Jude: "All ya had to do was just lean in close 'n we coulda pretended to kiss."

Kate: "B-but then why did you kiss me?!"

Kate: "You should've just pretended, then!"

Jude: "Wanted to see that ridiculous look on your face after."

(Even if it's fake, sealin' your vows with a kiss is a daft idea. That's your punishment for going along with it so easily.)

Jude: "Don't worry. I had no intention of closin' MY eyes."

Kate: "That's not why I closed my eyes!"

Jude: "Uh-huh. Sure."

Her face was still bright red, but now she was speechless and shaking.

(Damn. I love that face. It's the cutest thing.)

Jude: "That ain't the kinda face a blushin' bride makes."

Kate: "I am NOT your bride!"

I wondered how much of this rubbish world I'd have to show her... in order to make that pretty face of hers distort with despair.

(For some reason, I can't even picture it.)

Instead, I pictured her standing proudly, glaring at the harsh reality even if she was covered in filth.

And something stupid tingled deep inside my stomach.

End Premium

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Just Let Me Adore You Pt. 12

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: okay soooo many. Violence, quite a bit of it actually, and then later it gets so nasty; oral (m & f receiving), double v penetration, mad dirty talk, praise kink goin craaaazy, double creampie, dumbification kind of- I think that's all of them but idk they fuck and it's filthy basically

Genre: maybe a little angst i think, lots of smut, even more fluff

Summary: You’ve been dating your boyfriend, Bruce, for 3 absolutely blissful years. He’s a scientist and professor who is as smart as he is kind and if anyone asked, you were sure you’d spend the rest of your life with him. That is until two mysteriously charming men that Bruce swears are dangerous take an interest in you that threatens to turn your entire life upside down. I mean… what exactly are you supposed to do with two gorgeous men telling you something that suggests that basically everything you think you know is a lie? And why does part of you have enough doubt to wonder if they might be telling the truth?

Series Masterlist

***

"Did you find her?" Steve asks.

"Fucking hell." She breathes out.

"What? What does that mean?" Steve frowns.

"How quickly can your people get ready to move because we need to go now."

"They're ready. Been on standby for your go ahead all night." Steve says.

"Good. This is the go ahead. I know where she is." Wanda says.

~*~*~

A glance at the clock tells you it's after nine. The clock is analog and there are no windows on this floor so while you're pretty sure it's morning, there's a chance it's been a whole day and it's night again. You sit cross legged on the bed, facing the clear wall, trying to come up with a plan of action. Your eyes narrow when you notice two shadows on the floor. People are walking this way. You gasp when you realize who one of them is and walk over to the glass wall.

"Bruce!" You yell banging on the plexiglass to make sure you get his attention. He jumps and turns to you, eyes the size of saucers when he sees you.

"Y/n? Oh my God." Bruce walks right up to the glass.

"What did you do?!" You ask.z

"Me? I- I had nothing to do with this I swear. I didn't know you were here! I swear." He shakes his head frantically.

"There were six people that knew what I was Bruce SIX and you were the first to find out. You kept a file on me like I was one of your little projects! How much do you wanna bet that stupid file is how I got here in the first place?"

"All I ever did was run a blood test and jot down some observations." He says defensively.

"All you ever did was run a blood test? On your girlfriend. Without her permission! Do you realize how not okay that is?!"

"I'm sorry! Look, I never wanted anything to happen to you. I will- find out who's responsible for this and get you out of here I swear."

"If you plan to help you'd better do it quickly because I can guarantee hell will be on your doorstep soon." You say.

"What's your tag?" Bruce asks you.

"Excuse me?"

"The uh- identification they gave you. Instead of your name. He would've given you an identification number, we use them for, ya know." Bruce's words trail off.

"Say it Bruce. Don't be shy. This is your work. I'm an experiment here."

"Look did he tell you your tag or not?"

"89273. I think." You say.

"You think? You need to be sure."

"I heard it once Bruce. Excuse me if I haven't committed to fucking memory yet." You roll your eyes.

"Y/n." He sighs.

"That's it. I'm sure." You nod.

"I need the letters."

"What?"

"The letters at the beginning. That's the part that makes it unique.  Everyone here uses a different letter combination to keep our work organized. It'll help me figure it out."

"AZM." You say. Bruce mutters something that you can't exactly hear through the glass, but his face gives him away anyhow. "What is it? Why did you just get all pale?" You ask him.

"Nothing! Just- hang tight. I will- figure this out and get you out of here."

"Not like I can go anywhere in the meantime." You mutter. "Bruce!" You call before he can get far. He runs back over to your cell.

"Yes?"

"If I find out you're more involved in this than you are letting on, I will rip you to shreds in every sense of the word." You say. Bruce nods and dashes off. A few minutes later the camera in the back corner pops out from the wall and the whirring of its mechanics makes you turn around to face it.

"Good morning subject AZM89273." The same voice from before rings through the room. So, it is morning, just like you thought.

"You know, that arbitrary combination of letters and numbers is so many more syllables than just saying my name. I'm sure this is supposed to be some sort of display of your power in this situation but it really just seems like you're giving yourself more work." You say.

"That's funny I don't recall asking for your opinion on the matter."

"Yes well if we all stuck to doing explicitly what was asked of us I wouldn't be here so, we can't always have it our way now can we?" You roll your eyes.

"We will begin round two of testing in one hour and fifteen minutes."

"I'll be waiting! Not like I can go anywhere on my own." You say with a lazy shrug. The camera disappears back behind its panel in the wall and you're once again left with your own thoughts and plans.

~*~*~

"Wanda where exactly are we?" Bucky asks when the trio pulls up to the address she gave. She'd rushed them into action when she located you, giving an address to the driver with a group of their, Wanda calls them minions, following in other vehicles.

"Bruce's lab." She says walking towards the door quickly.

"Bruce as in y/n's ex Bruce?" Steve places a hand on her shoulder.

"Wanda hang on we don't have a plan." Bucky says.

"Yes as in y/n's ex. And the plan is to get in there, get her out, and maybe break a neck or two in the process." Wanda says.

"You didn't want to mention in advance that y/n's ex was responsible for this?" Steve asks.

"It makes sense." Bucky scoffs.

"I didn't say he was responsible because I don't know if he is. As far as I know he's not the only person that works here. It could be someone else that uses the space." Wanda says.

"Wilson." Steve looks over his shoulder to call towards the group that's waiting for instructions. Sam walks over to the three of them quickly.

"What's the plan?" He asks.

"Surround the building and find every entrance. I want the whole place covered. The primary goal is extraction. If you find y/n, she is your top priority other than that nobody gets in or out of this lab until she's safe and the bastards who did this are in front of me and Bucky is that understood?" Steve says.

"Crystal clear." Sam nods.

"No, wait. I will prioritize finding y/n. Your guys should focus on locking the place down so the culprit doesn't make a run for it." Wanda says. Bucky and Steve exchange a look and a slight nod.

"Fine. Focus on keeping everyone inside. If you find y/n in the process she still takes precedents but in the meanwhile don't let anyone get out of there until we've got who we need." Bucky says.

"On it." Sam returns to the group and starts giving out directions while Wanda stays with Steve and Bucky to discuss their own strategy.

~*~*~

Fifteen minutes to go before they move you again. Time drags so slowly in this room of blank white walls. Assuming they sedate you again, you'll have to wait until they're wheeling you back to this room to make a break for it. If you're lucky like last time, you'll wake up before they make it here and you should have no problem getting by a couple of scientists.

CODE BLACK; INTRUDER ALERT; INITIATING LOCKDOWN

The blaring alarm and sudden flashing red lights coax you quickly to your feet. Perhaps you should be alarmed by the sudden alert and angry red flashes considering you're trapped in a room, but you'd bet money the security breach in question is here for you and you're the only person whose safety is guaranteed.

"Uh- Don't know if anyone is listening to me or not but in case you are, I'm pretty sure that warning code of yours, means your time is up and you should start running. Or don't, it'll make everyone's life easier. You can't really escape this." You say loud enough that you should be heard even over the repetitive warning.

"Y/n!" You spin around at the sudden call of your name. Wanda's magicked a hole in the plexiglass wall of your cell.

"Wanda? Wait a second did you bring the calvary here?" You ask stepping through the hole into the hall with her.

"You sent me an SOS did you expect me to do nothing with it? Of course I did, you have the mob basically at your disposal." She says hugging you tightly.

"I know, I just didn't think you'd be here with them." You say with a small chuckle.

"Oh please they're just the muscle on this mission. I'm the one that found you." She scoffs. "Come on, your boyfriends went looking for the culprit. I'm sure they're waiting for you." She says draping her arm across your shoulders. The two of you head further into the facility, every so often passing frantic scientists being corralled by Steve and Bucky's men.

"I don't think all of these people were involved in this ya know." You say to Wanda.

"I'm sure they weren't but Steve and Bucky said no one's allowed out until they find the right people. Better safe than sorry." She shrugs.

"Yeah I guess so. There were three guys that kidnapped me, I didn't hear them all talk so assuming none of them are the guy orchestrating this there could be anywhere from 4 to 7 people involved, based on who I've seen or interacted with. There could be others of course. There have been some periods of unconsciousness on my end so-" You rattle off.

"Don't worry. I'm sure between your boyfriends and their minions they'll find out the exact number and their identities in no time." Wanda says. Eventually, you find Bucky and Steve, their backs are to you and Bucky's got someone pushed up against the wall. You rush up to them when you realize it's Bruce they're shaking down.

"Bruce." You say. Steve and Bucky turn to you and Steve has you in his arms not a second later. He's mumbling about you being okay and blaming himself and Bucky for this all happening (somehow), between kisses atop your head.

"Thank God you found her Wanda." Bucky says. As much as he wants to hug you he's not about to let Bruce go.

"Steve I'm alright. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, you can let me go." You mumble into his chest. It takes a few seconds before he unwinds his arms.

"Are you hurt? Do you need anything? I am so sorry princess. This should never have happened. I-"

"I'm okay Stevie. As far as I know all my parts and pieces are exactly where they're meant to be. You can stop doting and blaming yourself. That doesn't even make any sense." You say.

"We're just- so relieved to see you." Steve sighs.

"Right back at you." You say turning your attention to Bruce. "Are you going to tell me who's responsible for this Bruce, because I think you've known since you saw me a few hours ago and I couldn't push it then but now, your life is in- technically in his hands but whatever you tell me will determine if I let him kill you or not so choose your next words very carefully." You say.

"Wait a second it's not Bruce that locked you up?" Bucky glares at him.

"Not directly, I don't think so but I have a strong feeling he knows who did." You say.

"Y/n, please." Bruce chokes out.

"I need a name, Bruce. A name." You say.

"Dr. Gekko. Colin Gekko." Bruce relents.

"Describe him." You say.

"Brown hair, green eyes, tall and pale. He's got a birthmark on his neck." Bruce rushes the description out breathlessly.

"Drop him Bucky." You say. Bucky lets Bruce go and Bruce hunches over struggling to catch his breath. Steve is already on the phone before you can say anything.

"Clint, we need to find a Colin Gekko. Brown hair, birthmark on his neck, tall and pale with green eyes. If you can find a photo- yes, make sure everyone knows. He is the target." Steve says into his cell phone.

"We should start looking too." Wanda tells you. You nod in agreement.

"Y/n, wait." Bruce says before you've even started to walk away. He holds out a flash drive to you that you look at with confusion. "It's everything we have, on you. What Colin was doing, my- initial file. I've wiped them all from our servers but... I thought you'd wanna have the information." He explains. You take the thumb drive from him.

"Thanks." You mutter.

"I was so looking forward to finally having a reason to break his bones." Bucky rolls his eyes.

"You can break Colin's bones when we find him." You say. "I bet he's still in whatever observation room he was using to watch me."

"End of the hall." Bruce yells after you all. Following his suggestion, the four of you head down the hall towards the observation room. Bucky kicks the door in before you even try to open it. Chances are this Colin guy tried to barricade himself in there anyway. Sure enough, when the door flies off its hinges one scrawny looking green eyed man, birthmark on his neck and all, turns to look at you all with fear on his face. Steve grabs him before he can make a move, holding his arms behind his back.

"So you're the one behind all of this." You cross your arms.

"I should rip your head off your shoulders." Bucky glares. You hold up a hand to stop him from moving towards the cowering scientist.

"I want an explanation." You say.

"You want an explanation? You broke his heart and one of the greatest scientists I've ever known couldn't do his work." Colin grits out.

"So- Bruce, put you up to this?" Wanda frowns.

"No." He scoffs.

"Sorry, let me see if I can piece this together. My boyfriend, lies to me for months, so I break up with him, well within my rights and you kidnap me to run experiments in hopes that you'll- what? Fix him? Get brownie points? Maybe a promotion?" You ask.

"I've been here for years, always flying under the radar, I thought for sure you, the bitch who ruined him-" he stops to groan when Steve tightens his hold on him in response to his vulgarity towards you.

"Watch your mouth." Steve warns shoving Colin to his knees.

"I deserve to be a head scientist here." Colin says.

"Aw, well now you'll be a dead scientist. Broke the code of ethics and all, only to wind up with nothing." You shrug. "Not even a pat on the back from your 'so-called' idol who, by the way, totally gave you away for us to find you."

"Wait I- I don't wanna die." He shakes his head.

"Oh. Maybe you should've thought about that before you kidnapped me. Word of advice, don't target someone with mob ties if you like living."

"You know, if you keep him alive you could teach him a lesson he won't forget." Bucky mutters quietly. You look over your shoulder at him and consider his suggestion.

"Do you have a knife?" You ask.

"Yes." Bucky pulls out a blade and hands it to you immediately.

"Wait a second what do you need a knife for?" Steve asks. You squat in front of Colin and grab his wrist, placing his hand flat on the ground between you. With the knife in hand, you start to sing as you jab the knife between the gaps in his fingers.

"You have all your fingers. The knife goes chop chop chop, and since you were not careful, I'm gonna take some off." You slam the knife down severing the two middle fingers on his right hand and the scream he lets out his piercing. Steve's eyes look like they're about to fall out of their sockets and Bucky's currently trying hard not to let it show how much he enjoyed watching you do that.

"Y/n!" Wanda gasps.

"What?! He kidnapped me! I coulda killed him, taking two fingers is letting him off very easy!" You say.

"Honestly the little song was a cute touch. Clever." She nods.

"Right?! Thought it'd make it a little more fun." You link your arm through hers turning to leave Colin wailing on the floor.

"Hang on." Bucky says. He walks over to Colin and grabs him by the top of his head, pulling him up onto his knees. Bucky shoves his thumb into one of Colin's eyes, sending him into another screaming fit. "Leave town. Because if we ever see you again. I'll take the other eye." Bucky says menacingly, letting go of his hair. Colin crumples to the ground again as Bucky cleans his finger with a handkerchief from his pocket. "Let's go." Bucky says, a hand on your back guiding you out of the room and subsequently Wanda, while Steve walks behind you, discussing something with Sam.

"So what happens now?" Wanda asks.

"We take you home." Steve says.

"I meant with Colin." She frowns.

"He'll probably get out of town thanks to Bucky's threat."

"How did you guys find me anyway?"

"Wanda came to us." Bucky says.

"She interrupted a meeting and nearly got shot in the process." Steve says.

"I mean, I didn't know they were in a meeting until I got there. Besides, I was too busy being angry about you getting kidnapped despite their insistence on security watching you." Wanda says.

"Well I'm safe now." You shrug.

"We want you to see our medic." Bucky says.

"What?"

"We don't know what that sick bastard could have done to you and we think it would be best to have you looked over just in case." Steve explains.

"Alright. Fine, but you stay the whole time." You say.

"Deal." He nods. "Wanda we'll drop you at your apartment first and bring y/n back later, okay?" Steve says.

"Sure whatever." She shrugs. The rest of the drive to Wanda's apartment is quiet, Wanda hugs you tightly before getting out once you arrive. After dropping her off, the three of you head to Bucky and Steve's penthouse apartment where the medic is already waiting for you apparently. She's quick, but thorough in her examination, checking superficial things like your reflexes and vision asking several questions, taking samples of your blood, and whatnot. When she leaves, you let out a deep breath finally feeling comfortable.

"How're you doing princess?" Steve asks sitting beside you to rub his hand in circles on your back. Bucky sits on your other side with a hand on your knee comfortingly.

"I'm... alright- it's just been, a day- or a couple of days. I don't really know how long it's been actually." You frown.

"It was only one night. Wanda was up til morning trying to find you and we headed out as soon as she got you." Steve explains.

"Oh- well that explains why it's only after 1 pm." You mutter.

"This- may not be the best time to say this but I'd like it to be known that the little knife game you played with that guy, was very... impressive." Bucky says.

"Thank you, although I think it's fine to say that now because it like just happened." You chuckle.

"Seriously Buck?!" Steve rolls his eyes.

"What?!" Bucky says.

"Am I missing something?" You look between the two of them.

"Don't 'what' me!" Steve scoffs.

"Oh come on, there's nothing wrong with what I said you're the one being weird about it!" Bucky says.

"Okay, definitely missing something." You nod.

"I'm being weird about it?! Because I know what you meant by that! Don't play dumb."

"Hello!" You shout and they both look at you immediately.

"Yes princess?" Steve says at the same time Bucky says,

"Yes sunshine?"

"Hi, can you let me in on this weird psychic conversation you're having?" You ask.

"If Bucky was 'impressed' with your little knife trick it was not because of this head up here." Steve says tapping his fingers on his temple.

"What-?" You frown.

"He thinks it was hot." He rolls his eyes.

"Ohhh! You could've just said that. Either of you." You laugh.

"You were just kidnapped, now is not the time to be thinking with our- lower appendage." Steve frowns.

"Come on pal you're telling me it didn't stir something in you seeing her do that?" Bucky asks, grabbing your hand.

"I'm fine Stevie, I- being turned on is a much more positive reaction to me chopping someone's fingers off than I would've expected." You shrug.

"Wait you're- you're okay with it?" Steve asks.

"Well, it's better than you being freaked out by it." You say.

"Definitely not freaked out." Bucky mutters kissing up your shoulder. You relax against his ministrations, enjoying the way his lips feel on your skin.

"That's a relief." You chuckle breathily.

"Buck-" Steve starts to roll his eyes but you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him towards you, kissing him to stop whatever scolding he was about to give Bucky.

"Alright pal now that she's given you the green light, fess up. I know you better than anyone else, don't pretend you weren't thinking about bending her over when she took that loser's fingers like that." Bucky says, he's stopped littering your throat with kisses to taunt Steve, but his thumb is stroking the back of your neck as he speaks. Steve pulls away from your kiss to answer him.

"I was thinking about what an absolutely perfect queen she'll make." Steve says.

"Won't she?" Bucky smirks.

"Oh flattery like that will get you everywhere." You say with a small giggle.

"Right now I'm hoping it'll get us inside of you." Bucky says.

"Now that's a wish I'm only too happy to grant." You hum.

"Yeah?" He smirks.

"Absolutely." You match his cheeky smile with one of your own.

"Come here, pretty girl." Bucky hoists you off of the couch into a bridal carry. Steve kisses you once more before Bucky carries you up to their bedroom with Steve behind you. When Bucky tosses you onto the bed, Steve immediately pulls you into another kiss.

"Are you sure you wanna do this now princess? You know you can always tell us to stop if-"

"Steve stop talking!" You huff out, cutting him off. He blinks at you with a frown on his face.

"Y/n." Bucky's eyebrows knit together at your sharpness.

"I've had a very shitty 15 hours and I don't want to think about it anymore. Please. I am going to be okay just- distract me." You explain with a sigh.

"Happy to sunshine but, don't forget we love you. Sometimes we'll worry." Bucky says softly.

"I know. You can worry all you want- later. But right now I need my mind on something else." You say. Bucky nods and tugs your pants and underwear off in one go. His lips trail kisses starting at one knee and working up but he skips the place you need him most to repeat the trail up the other leg. The moment Bucky's tongue swipes through your slick folds, Steve drowns your moans with a kiss so fierce you can't breathe. Bucky wraps his lips around your clit, licking and sucking at the bundle of nerves. Your hips thrust up against his ministrations and one of his arms comes up to lay heavy across your waist, holding you down.

"Steady doll. Gotta stay still for me." He grumbles between your legs. When two of his thick fingers slide into your entrance and curl upwards you're forced to break away from Steve's kiss, your head thrown back at the feeling of his digits working you open. Steve uses the moment to take your shirt off and unhook your bra, turning his attention to your newly exposed skin. He litters your chest with blooms of red while his fingers toy with your hardened nipples. Between the two sets of hands and lips, your head is spinning with pleasure and you can feel your release building quickly.

"G-guys I'm- fuck, oh my god. I'm gonna-" you struggle to pant out a full thought with their overwhelming touch.

"You gonna cum for us princess? Go ahead baby, you know how much we love it when you fall apart." Steve coaxes, taking your earlobe between his teeth. Your back arches as your orgasm hits, as if his words were the key to a door that wouldn't open on its own. "Good girl." Steve hums when you take in a shuddering breath.

"You taste so fucking good sunshine." Bucky mutters kissing up your abdomen.

"You tell me every time." You chuckle.

"You disagreeing with me?" He quirks an eyebrow at you making you laugh harder. "Steve? Second opinion?" Bucky turns to Steve.

"I think I need a fresh taste test before I weigh in." Steve nods, effectively ending your giggle fit as he and Bucky shift accordingly, Steve kneeling between your legs and Bucky moving onto the bed beside you.

"Wait, Bucky stand up. I wanna blow you." You tell him. He lets out a groan.

"You don't have to tell me twice." He says standing up and shoving his pants down his legs quickly. Steve huffs out a laugh before diving into your heat. Your mouth drops open with a moan as his tongue laps at your pussy. When it comes to most things, Bucky and Steve have very different styles of approach, between your legs though, both men devour you like their final meal- you sometimes wonder if they discuss what they do to you to determine what works best, but you only allow yourself a second to relish in Steve's tongue as Bucky is standing at attention beside you. You take Bucky into your mouth, bobbing your head along his length eagerly. Bucky's head falls back with a groan as you work him.

"Fuck, feels so good doll." He mutters. Just then, Steve wraps his lips around your clit and sucks harshly making you moan around Bucky. Your hips jerk when Steve slides two fingers into you and you struggle to keep sucking Bucky's dick as Steve pulls you towards another orgasm.

"Let go for me baby." Steve mutters against you, tongue lapping at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You have to pull off of Bucky entirely when your release hits this time around, your body spasming uncontrollably.

"That's it doll, so pretty." Bucky hums, stroking your hair soothingly as he sits on the edge of the bed beside you.

"Gotta say, tastes better every time." Steve nods and you let out a breathless chuckle.

"You two, are ridiculous." You shake your head.

"How ya feeling sunshine?" Bucky asks.

"Good. Ready for y'all to fuck me." You say.

"Someone's insatiable." He laughs positioning himself against the headboard and lifting you onto his lap.

"Yeah and whose fault is that?" You wink. Bucky rolls his eyes but there's a smile on his face that keeps yours in place. At least until Bucky shifts you again, positioning himself at your entrance and pulling you down on him. You let out a shuddering moan as you adjust to the sudden intrusion, Bucky groaning at the way your walls pulse around him.

"Are you implying that we're responsible for this?" Steve laughs kissing your shoulder.

"Absolutely. You spoil me. I have expectations now." You say.

"Expectations, huh?" Bucky smirks, settling his hands on your hips.

"Obviously." You nod.

"Obviously." Steve scoffs. "Well Buck, let's keep those expectations high, aye."

"Was thinking the same thing." Bucky winks over your shoulder. He shifts below you, before lifting you up to bring you back down against him as he thrusts up. You cry out as Bucky takes you like that, fucking up into you and forcing you down on him. He keeps it up for several minutes before stopping, at which point you're reeling from pleasure. "Alright sunshine, we're gonna try something. Stop us if it gets too much." Bucky tells you. You should probably ask what the thing is but you're too busy trying to catch your breath so you just nod as Bucky pulls you forward to lie against his chest. Steve shifts behind you, his hands grabbing your hips firmly. You gasp and jolt slightly when you feel the head of Steve's dick poking at your already stuffed pussy.

"Wait a second there's no way you'll both fit." You say.

"Yeah we will, just relax for us baby." Bucky kisses your temple.

"Stop us if you need to princess but I think you can take it. You are perfect for us after all." Steve says rocking forward slowly, working himself in beside Bucky. You focus hard on breathing through the definitely too intense stretch of them both. When Steve eventually bottoms out, the two of them hold incredibly still, kissing reachable parts of your skin as they allow you to adjust. After a few moments, you start to squirm against them.

"Move. Please." You breathe out. They take a second to get leverage and then both of them are thrusting into you harshly. They sort out their rhythm almost immediately and all you can do is moan as Bucky and Steve fuck you together.

"Knew you could take us both. Such a good girl for us." Steve huffs out between thrusts, his breath hot in your ear. You whimper out an incoherent response.

"Aw Steve I think she's gone a bit cockdrunk on us." Bucky taunts, taking in the way your eyes are glazing over.

"Think so? Good. She wanted not to think anymore after all." Steve says. You can hear them, but their conversation falls to your ears muted, so overwhelmed that you're struggling to process anything other than the drag of their dicks along your walls.

"F-fuck I, I'm gonna- oh god." Your whiny pant isn't even a complete thought, but it's the best you're able to get out so blissed out from the way Steve and Bucky fuck you.

"Gonna cum for us sweetheart? Gonna soak our fucking dicks like a good girl?" Bucky coos at you mockingly.

"Please. Please. Please. please please please please." Your broken pleas are the only response you can offer teetering so close to the edge you can practically taste it.

"Go ahead princess, cum on our dicks, show us how good we fuck you baby." Steve says, kissing your neck. Their words along with their pace send you over the edge with a cry of their names into an orgasm so strong it's blinding. You're shaking so hard they have to tighten their hold on you as they chase their own ends. It doesn't take long for them to spill into you either, Bucky first with an expletive on his lips and Steve right after with a long moan that sends shivers down your spine. Between the two of them it's too much and you can feel their release leaking out of you. For a few moments nobody moves, it's still and silent aside from heavy breathing. Steve pulls out first and you whine when he does. "We gotta get you cleaned up princess." Steve says in response to your protesting grumble while Bucky soothes you with kisses all over your face. You watch as he walks into the bathroom and you can faintly hear the tub running. After some time, how long? Who knows, Steve returns.

"Alright sunshine. We're gonna get in the bath now." Bucky tells you. You don't have the energy to argue but you do whine again when he, with Steve's help, lifts you off of him to carry you to the bathroom. The plus side of this is when Bucky does place you in their too big jacuzzi bathtub the water is so warm you practically melt into it. Steve and Bucky take their time washing you up, gentle hands and a soft washcloth glide over your skin like it's the only thing that matters to them as they whisper promises of love and adoration and you swear you've never felt safer than in this moment.

It's incredible how what started as an anonymous gift at the mall/two overly complimentary strangers ended with you here. You're not sure loved is a strong enough word to describe how they make you feel.

***

Part 12/12

Tagged Users: @cjand10 @vicmc624 @mandijo17 @marvel-fandom23 @kattreffic

[gayuu-the-necromancer]

Black Wedding ~ Part 1 Jude Jazza ~ Premium END

 ｡⋆｡˚🦋˚｡⋆｡

(What a disgusting place)

After putting all the followers to sleep, I grumbled in my mind, inside the church at the altar where the wedding ceremony is about to take place.

(How does binding two people to an eternal promise be so innocent?)

(Vows of love are like curses)

What is so pleasing about cursing each other to love each other in sickness and pain?

The clean air, the solemn organ tones, the sweetly scented gorgeous flowers....all seem like an abominable curse.

The word 'vow' cannot be beautiful.

At least for me, it is.

At that moment, the church door opened to reveal Kate in a jet-black wedding dress.

(Heh..you look so tense)

But when she looked up, her lips tightened.

There was a strange look in her eyes.

(.....?)

Her face that looked dreamy, was completely red.

Kate begins to walk slowly down the wedding aisle leading to the altar.

(..Hah)

(She is so consumed by the 'wedding' atmosphere that she's losing her mind)

(Seriously, you get worried about everything)

Jude: "And so easy to read."

Kate: "Hm?"

As if she had realized she has arrived at the altar.

Kate blinks in a huff.

(Being a 'fairy tale master' is already a handful and now you also dutifully keep your word and get all dressed up...)

(You really are a hopeless princess)

Standing there in a wedding dress, she is too vulnerable.

A claw can shred her in an instant.

Jude: "You really an idiot. Are you really ready to get married to me?"

At that moment, a mild-looking man with long hair and glasses appeared.

(....It's this guy)

Man in glasses: "Well done, my fellow lovers, for you have come this far."

Amor: "My name is Amor. I am the representative of this Amour, the servant of love who will make your love eternal."

(....Is this guy actually crazy?)

The man shamelessly makes stupid remarks with exaggerated gestures.

It's beyond creepy and gives me goosebumps.

(I could put him to sleep right now so that he doesn't talk....)

(But I want to torture you first for all the trouble you've caused me)

It reminds me of the investigation report I read on the way here.

('Lovers are likely to be dosed with some kind of poison after they have made their vows')

So then-----

(Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth...poison for a poison, I guess)

Amor: "Now those who truly love each other need not make vows."

Amor: "For pledging you eternal love...you may close your eyes and kiss each other."

Kate: *gulps*

Kate's breathing stammers in confusion.

(You're so upset, even though we're actually not going to do it)

I caught Kate's impatient chin with my finger.

When I pulled her closer, Kate's eyes widened, as if they are about to fall out.

Kate: "Ah....."

Jude: "Mm."

(I raised her face, and came as close as possible to make them believe we're actually kissing)

Kate's cheek gradually turned red.

(Ha....?)

(Did you actually think I was gonna kiss you?)

I stare in disbelief at her quivering lips.

While confused and impatient,

Kate still closed her eyes shut, as if she was ready.

(....Tch)

(I didn't think she is this much of a softie)

-----FLASHBACK-----

Kate: "I'm sure people don't think that if you get married and say your vows to God and everyone around you, your love will just disappear forever."

Kate: "But...that's why we tell each other that we want to protect each other."

Kate: "If there were a memory of a vow made together and it seems impossible to keep."

Kate: "I would feel like not giving up, keep trying."

----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

Such beautiful things makes me want to throw-up.

But I'm sure that beautiful thing is true in her world.

(You fucking stupidly honest, good-natured..)

(You hard-working princess who seem to believe wholeheartedly in disgusting beautiful things)

(Even if it's a joke....it's not funny for a woman like her to swear that she will be with me forever)

I envy those who have been able to have a beautiful life.

I have a desire to destroy it.

Jude: "....Why are you closing your eyes?"

Kate: "Eh....?"

Her eyes open to look at me.

Jude: "You're such an idiot."

I looked into her eyes as I put my lips on hers.

Kate was stunned, trembling, and looking at me in disbelief.

Kate: "Mm....Ah...."

Jude: "...Heh, what's with that look?"

(Once you learn from his, you will reflect on it a little)

Amor: "I now pronounce you husband and wife....and hereby make your love eternal."

Amor: "Now pour this wine into each other's lips."

With an ostentatious gesture, Amor took out two wine glasses.

Jude: "Is this what makes love eternal?"

Amor: "Yes, please."

Undoubtedly, this wine is poisoned.

(Heh, nice smile)

(It only gets me more excited to look forward to seeing that smile crumble once I start my game)

Jude: "Now that I think of it, I have a return gift for you guys for your hospitality."

Amor: "...Ha?"

I threw the entire wine in my glass into Amor's face.

The poison is dripping all over his face and easily seeps through the mucous membranes of his eyes and nose.

Amor: "Huh?...What...Arghh...!?"

Immediately, Amor is uncharacteristically distraught and rushes to the shelves by the altar.

Kate: "What is he doing....?"

Jude: "Probably looking for an antidote."

Kate: "....Antidote....?"

Kate was quick to pick up that the wine offered to us was poisoned.

Her face turns pale.

Kate: "How did you know?"

Jude: "I just happened to read the investigation report beforehand."

Kate stares at me in disbelief. Her face says 'I didn't know that'.

(Of course you wouldn't know anything because I didn't tell you)

(If I did, you would be on the edge, panicking all the time)

Ignoring her gaze, I walk over to Amor, who takes what appears to be a medicine bottle from the cupboard.

Before he could open the lid, I grabbed his wrists and twisted it.

Jude: "You get to make others suffer but when it's your turn, you're running away..."

Jude: "Now, how is that fair?"

Amor: "Nn....Nnn....!"

(I could have been more outrageous)

(Say something, or the poison will get to you)

Amor: "Please! Please spare my life.....I'll do anything. Anything!"

Jude: "Anything? Nice. Then sign a contract with me."

Jude: "A contract to serve me until the day you die. What do you say?"

When he nodded his head, I released his wrist.

Amor, looked comically flustered, opened the lid of the medicine bottle, and swallowed its contents.

(Good, now go to sleep)

I poked his forehead.

My ability forces people to go to sleep when I poke their forehead. Amor closes his eyes and goes into a deep dream.

Kate: "...What are you going to do with that man?"

Jude: "I still haven't decided yet."

I looked at Amor, who is lying on the floor.

(Probably dumping him on a cargo ship would be nice)

Kate: "Also....what happened to the followers?"

Jude: "They all are in a dream. Even the guy who was playing the organ, went away halfway through."

(For now, the mission is complete)

(I guess)

Seeing Kate sighing in relief, I sighed.

Jude: "And you. Didn't you realise that you were about to sign the worse contract of your life?"

Kate: "Eh....?"

Kate blinks and tilts her head.

(Are you for real!?)

(Don't tell me you already forgot what happened earlier!?)

(This woman is such a...! How were you able to survive this long!?)

Jude: " 'Closing your eyes and kissing each other to pledge your eternal love..' "

Jude: "You closed your eyes...were you dying to get married to me and get tortured for the rest of your life?"

It took about five seconds for Kate to process what I was talking about.

Interestingly, her face upto her neck, turned completely red.

Kate: "T-That's...I-I thought we needed to kiss to create an opening....!"

Jude: "If we had put our faces together close enough, it would make it look like we're actually kissing. That's what I intended to do."

Kate: "So then....why did you kiss me?"

Kate: "You could've...just...did what you just said....."

Jude: "Of course it was because I was curious to see what kind of stupid face you'd make."

(It was a small punishment for a foolish princess who was easily ready to give her promises)

Jude: "Rest assured. I didn't intend to close my eyes."

Kate: "I didn't close my eyes because I was dying to pledge my eternal love to you or anything....!"

Jude: "Oh yeah?"

Kate was at a loss for words, still trembling and her face was red.

(Honestly, this frustrated face is the cutest thing I've ever seen)

Jude: "You're not fit to be a bride at all."

Kate: "I'm glad that I'm unfit."

If I tell her how far she would survive in this world...

I only can imagine seeing this face contorted in despair and unable to speak beautiful things.

(....I don't know why but)

Seeing her image standing and staring down at this shitty world----

Just makes my stomach churn.

Story // Bitter END // Epilogue

[hana-bobo-finch]

whoops it’s time for Nelle Dobbs and Yorke headcanons because these three little bundles of joy didn’t get enough time to shine and I am So Normal about them

DOBBS:

• He got his scars from a duck attack. More specifically Elizabeth. It was one of many issues between him and Charlie that led to them going separate ways

• Him and Charlie don’t actually have much ill will for one another, but they don’t like each other either. Mostly due to the duck attack. They both blame each other for it

• Oldest of the group by a good decade or so

• Prides himself on being the dad-friend of the group. In fact he would probably try to adopt Yorke and Nelle as his own children if given the chance. Yorke and Nelle would absolutely hate being adopted by him.

• He’s somewhat mysterious. Does he have a family? Where does he live? Does he have a job outside of treasure hunting? He won’t tell you that but he WILL tell you the best place to get a fake ID

• He runs an extremely amateur treasure hunting organization. He’s less of his workers’s boss and more so just their buddy

• He advertises his treasure hunting business like it’s an MLM (stuff like DO YOU WANT TO BE YOUR OWN BOSS AND WORK ANY HOURS YOU WANT. GET RICH FAST WITH THIS EASY JOB. Blah blah stuff like that)

NELLE:

• actually a very distant relative of Brittany, but she ended up getting taken in by BRITTANY’S GAY AUNT (auntie bea) and everyone just acts like they’re mother and daughter

• what happened to her actual parents? Who knows? Who cares? She certainly doesn’t.

• wherever she is on the family tree, the specific side she was born in was much more aristocratic than the rest. Even though she lived with Bea for most of her life she still has that classiness she wants to uphold

• doesn’t like Brittany very much. Mostly because Brittany and auntie Bea are so close. She has a deep rooted fear that Brittany will “steal” her mom away. NO Brittany that is MY mother you have your OWN, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE

• uses big words for no particular reason. It seems like she’s trying to sound smart but she’s just a living thesaurus and naturally talks like that

• Once dyed her hair to match auntie bea’s dyed hair but immediately regretted it

• basically blind without her glasses but somehow went a majority of her life without them. Also somehow got halfway through med school before she realized oh, it’s actually very hard to perform surgery when you can’t see. Miraculously those first few glasses-less surgeries went smoothly

• she’s aroace. My reason is BAM aroace beam I can project onto characters all I want

• can list every dog breed in alphabetical order

• She has a ton of encyclopedic knowledge and facts memorized but she lacks basic wisdom sometimes. If someone doesn’t keep an eye on her she WILL do something stupid

• tried to smuggle the ancient sirehound on the SS shepherd to take home. It…didn’t work, obviously

• Chronically tired. But at this point she’s just used to it (WHAT NOOOOO I’M NOT PROJECTING AT ALLLLL ITS NOT LIKE I HAVENT FELT WELL RESTED IN YEARS WHAT NOOOOO)

• that being said she completely zonks out when she does sleep. There’s no waking her up. She becomes completely dead to the world.

• Takes her work way too seriously. To the point where she basically sees people as animals. She can easily lug people around as if they were a dog or something. Also accidentally slips into talking-to-a-scared-animal voice sometimes

• earns a lot of money from being such a prestigious vet but has absolutely no idea what to do with the money except for buying more pet supplies

• and to add onto that she has way too many pets. Way too many. But that space dog she found begging for scraps CANNOT be taken to a shelter it must come with her because that is her new best friend

• has a hard time making friends. Even if she likes someone she can’t get attached easily. But when she does get attached she gets VERY attached

YORKE:

• he has a twin sister who he’s a few minutes older than. Her name’s Terri because YORKshire TERRIers. DO YOU GET IT. DO YOU GET THE JOKE. ITS A FUNNY DOG PUN. LAUGH. LAUGH AT MY PUN I SPENT A WHOLE 10 SECONDS COMING UP WITH TH—

• they don’t have much in common but at the same time they would die for each other

• he’s about 10 years older than alph

• gets along best with alph because of their shared interest in engineering

• He gave Alph the nickname airhead due to alph’s absentmindedness. every brother deserves a mocking nickname

• tries to prevent his siblings from knowing about the food crisis as much as possible. With very unconvincing lies. But he’s trying. (nooo we didn’t skip dinner because of a planet-wide crisis, it’s because the big evil Fruit Gobbler Fairy stole it all. Maybe if you did your homework this wouldn’t have happened. She only steals the food of naughty children who don’t do their homework on time)

• (small tw for disordered eating) Barely eats anything in order to make sure his family can have enough. It is absolutely not good for him please get the boy some fruit he’s not ok

• has been working a variety of jobs, mostly night shifts, since he was 15 to earn a bit more money for food. His family would be well off due to drake’s engineering background but THERE ARE TOO MANY CHILDREN TO FEED

• Speaking of too many children, Yorke was pretty much forced to act as a third parent. Please give the boy a break I know I’m making this all up but PLEASE GIVE THE BOY A BREAK.

• Started presenting androgynously as a way to rebel against Society™️ and His Parents™️ but then he realized oh. I like it better this way

• huge softie, huge huge huge softie. Cries extremely easily but he can just casually have a conversation while tears are pouring out of his eyes. He’ll never lose that neutral expression even when crying his eyes out

• very overprotective. If someone insulted his little brother he will track them down and threaten them. Even if they’re a child.

• he would get a ton of piercings but he faints just being poked by a sewing needle. And when he faints he FAINTS. it’s not just a quick black out and he’s fine, he falls straight to the ground and will spend a minute going in and out of consciousness and the next half hour in a puddle of sweat too weak to move

• has already accomplished a ton in life because he had to grow up so quickly. At this point he’s just finishing side quests

that is all goodbye I love my little alph Brittany and Charlie ripoffs <333

[festivetopgun2024]

Hello Everyone! 

The Top Gun Summer Secret Santa Fake Dating Fic Exchange is now Mission Accomplished. 

We are so happy people took interest enough to take part in it. 

You all did an incredible job and we are proud to tell you you’ve written 354,105 words worth of fake dating tropes, featuring Bobnix, Goosemav, Gooserole, Halomaha, Hangster, Icemav, Macheresin, Sloose, or The Ivies. 

Thank you to all the participants and people who helped organize the exchange!

Our Top Gun 🌞Secret 🎅Fake Dating Fic Exchange collection is available here, and you can also find the list of all the works after the cut. 

Please don’t hesitate to show your love to all these amazing writers. They deserve everything.

PS We are also very excited to announce a new event coming up this year. Should be available tomorrow, make sure to subscribe to this tumblr to stay updated.

Until next time! Stay fly!

Mod Asia & Mod Red.

lightning + sand = glass hearts by pinetreegreen {E}

Love's Match by LadyLanera {T}

gonna take a lot to take me away from you by billpaxton {T} 

Names by viridimessorem {G}

Bluff by viridimessorem {T}

When Life Gives You Maverick, Fake Marry by aishii420 {T}

Of Birthday Parties and Unexpected Confessions by NerdGirlJen {G}

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? by Ilarina {G}

Tourism and Destinations (Neither Compare to Journeys or Friendships) by ToukoJalorda003 {M}

With the Stars in the Darkness, and Love in the Light by flyingfightingfishy {T}

Stupid Enough by AllForReading {T}

A White Lie for the Perks and Benefits by wordsonamission {E}

something dumb to do (think i wanna marry you) by itsthebooks {T}

Two for The Show by icezansky {E}

Asking, Telling by rabbit-factory {E}

(un)wanted advances by winterbucky {E}

Heaven Written. by pollyna {T}

wonder why i try to fight the chemistry by indigofudge {T}

whiskey on ice (sunset on vine) by grimjobs {E}

Maybe One Day. by I_Make_Questionable_Choices {G}

I want you so bad it hurts. But you heal me. by SunMonTue {E}

Show me the places where the others gave you scars by Ilarina {T}

no one will ever know me the way that you do by growingupbrown {G}

Fraternization Rules by imafriendlydalek {M}

We got that champagne love, don't let it fizzle out. by Whistler_King {T}

hoping about this by teacupivy {T}

(fake) partners in crime by winterbucky {T}

my heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue by k0ralik {T}

Lights, camera, bitch smile (even when you wanna die) by OfTheDirewolves {M}

Love's a Game (Wanna Play?) by indybob {T}

Feel It Still by wordsonamission {E}

[gayandgayerforventi]

love meter 100 ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

Reigen A. x Female OC

"I have a proposition to make."

He said, his legs kicked on top of one of the tables. Reigen considered himself a simple man. To him there wasn't much a man his age should be doing. He was doing as he could, making money out of simple cons. He still remained a righteous and caring man, he wasn't hurting anyone! Though the lady in front of him seemed to think different, the charming devil who had lately haunted his dreams. He couldn't deny the slightest flush her teases and banter gave him, and even as she stood in front of him with her arms crossed in a doubtful manner, there was something about it that he couldn't help to appreciate. Perhaps it was the way she stared solely at him, staring with narrowed eyes from behind the frame of her glasses, the way her painted lips pursed at him as she stared disapprovingly.

He yearned to back down. To bow on his knees as he held onto her hand, pleading her forgiveness and validation. To see her smile at him once again as she gave him a sly remark, to feel the way her eyes stared up at down at him. But he held onto his pride, offering her a playful yawn instead as he leaned forward, staring at the lady who danced through his head in the night. Her name was Ayame, and lord he'd be damned to not have her one day. But he pushed this thought to the side. "And why should I hear you out? I have places to be Reigen, there's not much a man of your field can offer me."

He knew she was referring about his cons. Yet he still toyed with his tie, staring back at her as she met him with an expectant gaze. He fiddled with the ends, playing with the small threads as a lazy smile graced his lips. There was a rosy tint to her cheeks, and though he knew it to be blush he let his mind wander, to a day he hoped the pink on her face would be from him. Still, she drummed her nails against her crossed arms, leg bouncing with impatience.

"You'd be surprised 'Yame. A boy came by the office today, him and his little friend. He was a special kid, and I'd have been deep in charges if he wasn't. Before he could get hit from a spilt hot drink he saved it, with telepathy, all the while his friend was able to use the same ability to transfer a napkin out of her pocket."

"Right Reigen. And whilst we're at this you're going to tell me your nonexistent psychic abilities also peaked? Do I seem foolish to you? And I don't recall offering you the right to give me a nickname."

He stared at her, a sudden seriousness installed in his eyes.

"The nickname was stupid, I know. I'd much prefer to call you mine."

He suddenly leaned back in his chair, as the woman before him raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help but admire her from where he was, though she seemed rather annoyed in contrast to the flusted state he had hoped to place her in.

"And I will. Tomorrow. 4pm is the time they met me today and I told them I expected them at the same time the next day. You'll come with me Danielle, see their abilities and take up the offer I'm granting you. And you'll take up my business proposal and be my partner, what do you say."

She leaned forward, pushing his legs from the table as you took its place. She pressed her knees together, bringing him in by his tie. He knew she was doing this to inspect the truth he had, but he couldn't help the natural lean his body gave, nor the way his eyes wandered down to her lips. She seemed to feel the same way though, brown orbs flickering down before returning back to greet his eyes, a cocky smile plastered upon her face.

"Business partners. If you're lying I'll enjoy bringing both your shabby scams and yourself to your knees."

Part of him wished he was.

go check this out on my ao3 for a free hug guys <3 :D

[biblicallyaccuratethespian]

Watched Across the Spiderverse, got hooked, wrote fic, made fanart that went with fic. Tale as old as time. Enjoy!

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

Dammit.

Dammit!

Gwen threw her mask off on what should have been Miles’ bed. Her Miles’ bed. But it wasn’t, just like all the other ones she’d tried and tried for hours. It wasn’t like Miles would only be in his room, or his apartment. He could be anywhere in New York. God, he could be anywhere in New York. How could she have been so stupid?

Before, she could sense him from universes away. Now, she couldn’t sense him at all. 

You were right, Gwen.

You should have never come to see me. 

Gwen bit back tears. The look he’d given her before falling off the highway in Nueva York was burned into her memory. He was mad at her, he had been betrayed by her, and she couldn’t fucking find him. He was in danger, and she would be the last person he would reach to for help. 

Bzzzzzzzzzz.

She jumped out of her stupor. This was a familiar spidey-sense-buzz, Miles was here! He— 

Wait. 

No, he wasn’t. 

Her heart sank. It was close, tantalizingly close. But it wasn’t Miles. This was a different spider’s signal. 

“—someone in there.”

And they were coming this way.

Though it was late, she couldn’t just blend into the shadows. Miles’ room was all packed up, his furniture wrapped in plastic, his action figures stuffed into boxes. It wasn’t like she could turn invisible. New plan: she scrambled to the window, fiddling for the lock — and came up empty. But this window opens. She’d opened it before, and this was the exact same— no, it wasn’t. 

“—my old room—”

It wasn’t the exact same place, it was an alternate dimension. Of course. And in this specific dimension, the windows don’t open, so she’ll never be able to make it out before—

“Excuse me?”

BZZZZZZZZZZZ!!

Her fellow spiders had arrived. Standing in the doorway was a woman in her late twenties, with longish bleach-blonde hair, and a man about the same age with thick locs and glasses. Who looked exactly like Miles. 

A little too much like Miles.

“Whoa.” The man looked shocked. “Another Spider-Person! You look… exactly like Gwen. Why do you look exactly like Gwen? Did you have a sister you never told me about, or—”

“No, of course not.” The woman — also Gwen, said, assessing the situation. She was also named Gwen? She kinda looked like her… wait, if he looked and sounded a lot like Miles, and she looked and sounded a lot like Gwen, then…

Oh, god. It was her and Miles. From an alternate dimension. 

“I’m not crazy, right? You see it too?” The man, no, Other-Miles, gestured with his hands just like her Miles did. Does. 

“Yep,” she said. She turned her attention back to Gwen. “Sorry, are you… me?”

“Yes! And also no.” She shuffled her feet, not knowing what else to do. “So, yeah. I am Gwen Stacy, Spider-Woman… from a different dimension.”

A moment of silence. They looked at each other. They looked back at her. “Oh. Okay.”

“Wow, you guys are remarkably chill with this.”

Other-Miles put a hand around Other-Gwen’s waist. A pang of feelings hit Gwen’s gut like a brick. He could just do that in this universe? “Well,” he said, “we’ve been Spider-Man and Woman for like… twelve years now, so we’re used to weird shit.”

“Yep.”

“Cool, um… so, I’m sure you both are wondering why I’m here right now,” she said with half-assed finger guns.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so.” She sat crosslegged on the room’s bed. “Multiverse is real. A bunch of Spider-people from a whole bunch of universes got together to protect the multiverse.”

Other-Miles sits beside her. “And they didn’t invite us?”

…

Even he got a watch?

God, even though he’s half-joking, Other-Miles’ questioning almost makes Gwen burst into tears. Of course every multiversal version of Miles Morales wants to be invited. Wants to be visited. Wanted to know why his friends didn’t visit. 

Other-Gwen raises an eyebrow. Gwen swallows hard, willing her eyes to stop burning. “Only issue, the leader of this alliance is this guy named Miguel, who is insane. He’s so scared of disrupting the multiverse, when it’s really this guy, Spot, who does it with his portals. Spot is this villain guy, by the way. Ruptures holes in space-time. Anyway, Miles…” 

Other-Miles squints quizzically. She swallows hard. “My Miles isn’t even from my dimension. I accidentally got launched into his through science shenanigans, we met, and we just… clicked.”

Other-Gwen sits at Other-Miles’ feet, holding his hands. “That sounds awfully familiar.” 

He laughs. Gwen hurts a little more. 

“But we were separated. Each back to our own universe. Anyway, months pass. My dad tried to… arrest me after I revealed my spider-ness to him, and I was terrified, but Miguel took me in. I got a watch that let me transport between universes, and… and I wanted to visit Miles so badly… but I didn’t.”

Gwen covered her mouth and turned away. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

“Why not?” It was Other-Gwen. She'd laid a hand on her knee, ready to listen. 

God, she's a saint.

“Because Miguel said he was an anomaly, and I wasn’t allowed to,” Gwen said, choking up. “He wasn’t supposed to be Spider-Man in his universe, even though he’s a great Spiderman.” Her floodgates open. “Like, he’s just so kind, and gentle, and he puts other people before himself, sometimes too much, and he’s just so sweet.” 

Gwen sobbed for a moment. She caught the two of them exchanging another glance. They each took one of her hands, and Other-Miles slides off the bed to match his partner. 

“And I had that watch for months and I didn’t visit him. Then, when I finally did, I didn’t tell him why I didn’t visit, or that I was actually on a mission or anything. I just showed up, and, and he looked so happy, but when he stood up to Miguel and stuff he found out everything, and he, he…” Gwen wiped her tears on her shoulder. “You should have seen how hurt he looked. I’ve given him so much pain. I even chased him, tried to get him put in jail because he was an anomaly, and that’s just what happens to anomalies. He was one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and I just… I just chased him. Didn’t go to him when he needed me most, didn’t support him when he needed me most, and now, he’s somewhere in the multiverse, and he’s in danger, and I can’t find him, and I don’t know if he’d even want me looking for him!”

Gwen ripped her hands from theirs and pounded the bed before curling into a ball and grabbing her hair. “I’m such an idiot. I… I don’t know where he is, or if he’s safe or anything. Maybe he won’t even talk to me…”

In every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spider-Man.

Whether she meant falling to her death or falling in love, she wasn’t sure. 

And, in every other universe, it doesn’t end well. 

No, it certainly didn’t.

“I’m so sorry,” Other-Miles said after a little while. “C’mere.”

Then, Other-Miles and Other-Gwen took her by the forearms, pulled her off the bed, and into a hug.

Gwen couldn't help but collapse. 

After so many hours of tension, Gwen finally relaxed. Into the hug, and into her sobs. They just held her and held her as she cried and cried. Something inside Gwen rejected this. She doesn’t deserve kindness, not after everything she’s done. Miles needs this hug much more than she does. Wherever the hell he is. 

If he lets her, she would want to hug him exactly like this. 

Other-Gwen rubbed circles on her back. “You must have been holding onto this for a long time. You must be so scared.”

Gwen just nods. 

Other-Gwen leans out of the hug. “Why don’t we figure it out over some tea?”

Gwen wiped away her tears, finally taking in the world around her. “Isn’t it, like, midnight for you guys right now?”

“Nah, it’s about eleven.” Other-Miles hopped to his feet and twirled towards the door, finger-guns blazing. “Don’t worry, I’ll make the two of us decaf.” 

————————--

“Kingpin brought you to his world?” Other-Gwen said, listening intently. The two of them had insisted she stayed for a while and tell them her whole life story, despite her protests that she clearly must keep going, and no, she’s not going to burn out, thank you very much.

“Yep! I mean, he ran the supercollider. He didn’t mean to bring me in. Anyway, somehow, when I was launched from the portal, I emerged into Miles’ dimension a week before the collider had even run.”

“You time-travelled?” Other-Miles’ voice echoed from the kitchen.

“I guess? I still have no idea how it happened. But I appear in this new dimension, and, of course, I have no idea what happened or what to do. So, I let my spidey-sense guide me.”

“Spideysense?” Other-Gwen asked.

From the kitchen: “I told you that was a good name for it!”

“Yeah, the entire rest of the Spiderverse calls it spidey-sense.”

“Fine, you win this one. We’ll call it spidey-sense.” Other-Gwen sighed. “Am I the only one who feels like this is ridiculous?”

“Yup,” he said, popping the p. “Continue, little Gwen.”

“Little Gwen?”

“Yeah, to differentiate."

“I’m not little,” she said with a huff. “I’m sixteen.”

“Well, I’m twenty-five, so… little Gwen.” She patted her head. 

Is it too early for me to want her to adopt me so BADLY? 

“You were saying, you travelled back in time, didn’t know what to do,—”

“Yeah, and so, I let my spidey-sense guide me to this one hoity-toity academy in Brooklyn… you guys have Brooklyn, right? Yeah, so I’m just at this academy and…” She tucked some hair behind her ear. “I meet him. Miles. He was funny and kind, and… like I said, we just clicked.”

“And, like I said, sounds awfully familiar.” she said, smiling. “How long have you guys been together for?”

“Oh! Um, we’re not actually together together, y’know? We’re more… friends right now, we haven’t really, um…” her face felt really hot all of a sudden. “Are you two… dating?”

“Dating? We’re not dating.” 

Gwen felt utterly stupid. Then why were they living together? In Miles’ parent’s apartment, no less? Other-Gwen brought her hand up beside her face and wiggled her fingers, showing off a beautiful ring on her—

Oh.

Oh.

“You two are MARRIED?!” Gwen still felt stupid, just in a different way. “You guys can just… live together.” 

“Yeah.”

“And have been for a long time.”

“Our second anniversary is in a month.”

“Without any tragic consequences.”

Other-Gwen raised an eyebrow. “…yes.”

So, all this time, there was a universe where Gwen Stacy and Miles Morales, Spider-Man, lived happily ever after? Where Gwen Stacy survived long enough to get married? Where she never had to worry about being too close to somebody, as it would inevitably end in tragedy?

She hadn’t realized she started crying again until Other-Gwen pulled her in. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Gwen opened her mouth to speak but figured it wasn’t very helpful to tell this Gwen that most of the multiverse’s Gwen Stacies are dead. “I don’t know,” she settled with, “everything.”

The electric kettle let out a chorus of dings from the kitchen. “Well, if you’re crying at the thought of us getting married,” said Other-Miles, grabbing various tea supplies from the cupboards, “Imagine being me, at the end of that aisle, realizing I was about to marry that goddess of a woman right there.”

Other-Gwen smiled and rolled her eyes. “Honey!”

“What? You were there! I was blubberin’ like a baby! I was tryin’ to hold myself together during the vows but I was really falling apart—”

Gwen slapped a hand on her mouth to stop another sob, which, of course, didn’t work. They were married. They’d made vows to each other. All her guilt somehow swirled into pure heartache.

“Aw, c’mere.” Other-Gwen put her arms around her again. 

Other-Miles appeared with two mugs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel upset.” He handed her one. “Here.”

Gwen hesitated. “Is this—”

“English Breakfast with a spoonful of honey?”

“How did you know?”

He only smiled. “Plus a squeeze of lemon juice.”

“Why not milk?” Gwen smirked. “I usually have milk?”

Other-Gwen put a hand on her shoulder somberly. “You’re gonna want to lay off the milk around now. Your gut will thank you.”

“But I’m not lactose— I’m not lactose intolerant.”

Other-Gwen grimaced. She brought her voice down to a whisper, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

Gwen took a moment of silence for all the cheeses, yogurts, and other treats she’d have to discontinue from her diet. Then, she realized that was stupid and there were bigger things at stake here. 

They must have also gotten that memo. “Okay,” said Other-Miles, “What’s the plan here, little Gwen?”

She took a sip of her tea. It was perfect. “So, Margo, a.k.a. Spiderbyte, a.k.a. Tech Wiz Extraordinaire, is trying to remotely gain access to the Go-Home Machine’s history in order to find out where Miles went. In the meantime, the group of us have split up in an effort to find him more manually. As evident, it hasn’t worked. So, we’re just gonna keep hoping through universes until we find him.” 

“That’s a good plan…” he said, “I think, I don’t know a few of those words. I was thinking more about the plan of talking to your Miles.”

She sighed. “Yeah, that’s the part I’m sort of dreading.”

“Forgive us for getting to the personal side, but you can’t blame us for really hoping you two work out.” Other-Gwen put down her mug, then clapped her hands. "So, you kept things secret from him. That’s in the past. Can you change the past?”

“…No.”

“What can you change?”

Gwen sighed. “The future.”

“Exactly. I know it’s difficult not to— did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“No, it’s just—”

“Just what?” Other-Gwen raised an eyebrow. It was the Jessica-Jones look, the Rio-Morales look, the look that burned into you from the inside out. 

Gwen pulled into herself. “It’s just that… I don’t know, everyone keeps telling me that. But it doesn’t mean it works.”

“You sure you don’t want to give it another try?”

“Ugh, I’ve already given it a thousand tries.”

Other-Gwen opened her mouth to reprimand but stopped herself with a deep breath. “Okay, if that won’t work, let’s try a different approach. Let’s look at apologizing like it’s…” She scanned the room for inspiration, then lit up. “Like it’s a ballet!” 

She took Gwen’s hands and yanked her to her feet. Twenty-five-year-old Gwen Stacy may have been stockier, but boy, was she buff. Are those the biceps I’m gonna have when I get older? Gwen thought. Damn.

“Okay. Imagine you’re onstage, or in the studio, whatever makes you more comfortable.”

Gwen started stretching from top to bottom in a routine she’d done a million times. She hadn’t done ballet in a while, being Spider-Woman and all. It felt nice to return to some sense of normalcy. 

“We’re gonna get into first.” Other-Gwen put her shoulders back and heels together. “After all, what’s the first step of ballet?”

Gwen mirrored her pose. “Getting a good physical therapist.”

“Hardy har. What’s the second step of ballet, then?”

“Having confident feet.”

“Right. ‘Cause if you don’t know where your feet are…”

“You’ll never make it as a dancer.”

Other-Gwen broke from her refined pose. “…that’s the way your teacher phrased it?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s sad. Anyway, it’s your foundation. You need’em, otherwise, you’re not going anywhere. It’s the same with apologizing,” she said, putting her feet in second position and fixing her posture. “Let’s establish the facts, let’s plant our feet. What are the facts behind this?”

Gwen moved to second position. “I hurt Miles.”

“Try a different fact. Try third. What happened?”

To third. “I was accepted into the Spider Society, and got a watch with the ability to transport to multiple universes, including his. But when I got the watch, I was told not to visit, as he was a threat to the multiverse. So I didn’t — for months.”

“Move to fourth.”

To fourth. “When I finally got a mission to Earth-1610, his universe, I broke protocol and visited him. But I didn’t tell him I was on a mission, or that he was deemed an anomaly, or,” to fifth, “that someone close to him was supposed to die, and he was supposed to let it happen.”

“He was supposed—” Other-Gwen’s eyes widened. “You didn’t even tell us that happened. That’s fucked. Sorry, screwed up.”

“You don’t have to— yeah.” Gwen pliéd from fifth. ”I can’t believe I didn’t tell him. Every single person in the Spider Society, including me, believed that death had to happen for the multiverse to stay together, and he was the only person who fought against it.”

“Can confirm that that’s seriously fucked up,” said Other-Miles, not looking up from his sketchbook. “Oh, by the way, I just got this out, I hope you don’t mind. Yeah, totally fucked. I’d do the same if it were me.”

Other-Gwen moved back to first. “Did you try and stop him?”

She sighed. “Yes. Because I thought that if I didn’t, the multiverse would fall apart. Which it wouldn’t, I see how little sense it makes now.”

“Sounds like you’re ready to set it up for the pirouette,” Other-Gwen said with a small smile,  bringing a foot forward. “Remember, the guilt may be eating you up from the inside, but you hurt him. Not that your feelings don’t matter, they absolutely do. It’s just that his feelings are the ones being prioritized right now.”

“So, something like…” Gwen brings her foot forward to match. “I wanted to protect you, but, in doing so, I made you feel unwanted. No, not unwanted. I made you feel betrayed, alone, and not good enough.”

“Okay, now you follow through.”

She sets up for the pirouette. “I didn’t mean to make you feel this way—”

“Try it again. Put his feelings first.”

Gwen got ready for another pirouette. But she couldn’t continue. “…I don’t really know what to say.”

“Just follow through with what you said before. Do another spin.”

“Uh… I made you feel terrible about yourself, and that wasn’t okay.” She touched down from the pirouette and began doing all kinds of jumps and footwork, letting her muscle memory lead the way. “You don’t deserve that. You deserved to know the truth about everything from the start. You deserved a civil conversation on an equal playing field about what was going to happen. You deserved to have a say.”

Other-Gwen backed away, leaving the living room floor to her variant. Gwen fell into the routine from one of her old shows — step, touch, kick, touch. “I’m sorry, Miles, for everything. For not telling you what I should’ve.” Step, step, jump. “For not considering your point of view.” Step, jump. “For not believing you.” Step, touch, step. “For betraying your trust when you needed it most.”

…

Other-Miles and Other-Gwen looked on. “Well,” Other-Gwen said after a moment, “where’s the rest of the routine?”

“Oh, uh,” Gwen said, falling from her practiced pose, “after this is the leap. Where I jump to my dance partner and they catch me. Oh my God, wait. Wait, wait.”

“What?”

“That’s such a neat coincidence. A leap at the end. A leap of faith.”

Other-Miles gasped. “That’s such good symbolism! The leap of faith! ‘Cause this whole thing is a— whoa.”

“You do leap at the end of this, don’t you? Well, just remember. The dance partner, in this case, is you.” Other-Gwen put a supportive hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got to remember to catch yourself on the way down. You’re not a monster. You’ve made a mistake, but you’re not a terrible person. That is evident by how you’re working on yourself and making a promise to change your behaviour later.”

“Wow,” Gwen said. “Where’d you learn all this?”

“Therapy.”

“Oh.”

“Also,” said Other-Miles, “give him some time to figure it all out. Don’t expect an answer right away.”

“You can afford therapy for the both of you? In NYC?”

“Eh, we kinda flicker in and out when we can.” He put down his sketchbook. “It’s more like I like having time to work my thoughts out, and… y’know, I’m Miles, he’s Miles.” He splayed his fingers and mashed them together to emphasize his point of being one and the same. 

“That is helpful. Thank you.” She took a deep breath in. “Thank you both, honestly, so much. I feel a lot better now and am filled with a lot less dread.”

“Hooray for less dread!” Said Other-Miles from the couch. He was back to being nose-deep in his sketchbook, felt-tip-pen behind the ear and everything. 

Gwen smiled. Some things never change.

“Well, little Gwen,” Big Gwen said, ruffling her hair, “You got any more personal problems you need help working out, or do you just want to sit and finish your tea?”

She plunked herself back on the couch. “I don’t know, do you guys have any more… helpful pieces of advice? I guess?”

“Hm…” Other-Gwen picked up her tea and took a sip. “Here: It’s Mr. Morales and Mrs. Morales. Until at least a year of dating."

“Yeah, Gwennie found out the hard way that you don’t casually call my parents by their first names. They’re kinda sticklers for that.” He took his brush pen out from behind his ear and put the cap on it. “You haven’t met them yet, right?”

She pursed her lips. “No, I haaaaaaaave.”

“And did you—“ he said. Gwen nodded. “Oh. Oh no.”

Other-Gwen was quick to stop that negative thought spiral. “Hey, don’t worry, don’t worry. There’s still plenty of time for a better impression, so just apologize the next time you see them and it should all turn out okay.” 

“I have another question, kind about that, but it may be a bit weird.”

“Ask away.”

"Are they — the Moraleses — both… alive in your universe? Like, why do you guys have their place?”

“God, little Gwen, how has your universe been treating you? Yes, they’re both alive. My dad was caught in some rubble one time, but he’s fine now. He just needs a wheelchair to get around, so the elevator breaking down every now and again wasn’t just an inconvenience anymore.”

“But by the time that happened, we’d been talking about moving in together anyway, so they just moved downstairs.” Her smile softened. “You can go say hi to them if you want, they know about the Spider stuff.”

“And is my dad— our dad— forget it. Is Captain Stacy alive?”

“Captain Stacy? Pffft.” Other-Gwen rolled her eyes. “He’s a math teacher.”

Gwen’s head was spinning now. Not only was there a universe where her and Miles were living together, happily married, but Captains Morales and Stacy were alive. 

Miguel’s theory was bullshit. 

Miguel’s theory was bullshit!

“What theory? What’s wrong?” Said Other-Miles, grabbing her forearm.

Shit. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Her mind had been suitably blown tonight, but she didn’t want this Miles to know his father was supposed to die, or tell this Gwen their relationship working out perfectly was a statistical miracle. 

But they both were looking at her expectantly, with all the openness in the world. Maybe these two didn’t need to beat up their villains. Maybe they just talked them out of it. 

But before Gwen could explain everything, her watch dinged, with a message. 

From Margo.

“She’s found him! Earth-42!” She jumps from the couch and begins fiddling with Hobie’s watch.

“They found him?”

BWOOSH! A collage-like portal appears in front of her. “Yep!” 

Other-Miles and Other-Gwen ignore all the swirling junk and newsprint that used to be their living room. They just stand and look at her.

“What?”

Other-Gwen smiles sheepishly. “Can we get one last thing before you go?”

“I guess, uh-OOF!” They pull her in for one more hug.

“Sorry, couldn’t letcha leave without one,” she says. 

He gives her a kiss on the forehead, and they both let go. “Good luck out there, little Gwen.” 

Gwen smiles. “Thank you for the tea. And everything else.”

Other-Gwen gives her a two-fingered salute. “No problem, Spider-Woman.”

“Now, go kick some ass!”

“Miles.”

“And give a meaningful apology. But don’t forget to kick ass on the way,” he said with a wink.

Gwen snorts. “Of course.”

She gives her multiverses selves a wave. God, this day has been wild. She leaps into the portal headfirst. She leaps like she’s onstage in a ballet, performing a routine she’d rehearsed thousands of times. She leaps with the knowledge that her dance partner will be right there to catch her. 

In every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spider-Man.

And, in every other universe, it is beautiful. 

———————--

Both of them wait until the portal’s been closed for a few moments before saying anything. 

The living room is a mess. The door to Miles’ old room is open. There’s an extra mug on the ottoman. 

Other than that, there’s no record that all that was all real.

“What the fuck,” is all she can say. 

Miles flops on the couch. “Oh my God, Gwen.” 

“What the… even for Spider-people standards, that was— whew! That was so weird!”

“Gwen—” 

“There’s another you, and another me, and we’re teenagers, and angsty as hell, and there’s a whole bunch of other Spiderpeople, some fuck named Miguel who’s screwing it all up, a- and the multiverse is collapsing?” She sighed. “Also, the multiverse is real, that’s new.”

“…Gwennie?” 

Miles was looking up at her with those puppy-dog eyes — the same look when he first told her he wanted to marry her, and when he did marry her — a look with so much love it almost made her sick. 

It didn’t take much these days.

“What’s wrong, honeybun?” She sat down next to him, and their arms gravitated around each other. Just like flips and death-defying maneuvers, having each other close was an instinctual reflex.

He let the silence hang as his eyes grew glossy. He grabbed his sketchbook and passed it to her.

Inside was a pen-and-marker sketch of her and Little Gwen. They were in matching poses, mid-pirouette-prep. He’d perfectly captured the warm moment — not that she didn’t think he could. Her thoughts about his art were what she always thought.

“Amazing, just amazing.” She turned her head up to him. “What’re gonna call it?”

He leaned back to look at her. “What about The Moment I Fell in Love With My Wife All Over Again, ink on paper.”

“You say that every time!” She said, giggling.

“And I mean it every time! I’m serious, I…” he waited for her to calm down, then quickly realized it was to no avail. “I was watching you two from the couch, and you just looked like a natural up there. Helping her with stuff, talking her through it, speaking her language…”

He rested a hand on her stomach. “And I guess it just hit me, like… that’s gonna be you and me… forever… in like, what, half a year?”

“Yeah, it is.” She kissed him on the nose. “And don’t discredit the job you did out there.”

He chuckled. “I mean, if a Miles had come through the portal I could have been a little more helpful…” He closed his sketchbook. “But it was a Gwen. And she needed a Gwen.”

The sun had long since set over the Brooklyn skyline. It was there, out the window, where the portal once stood. The day had been fairly normal until Little Gwen had showed up, but it ended like so many days did — with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her waist. 

“God,” said Miles, in that low whisper that spelt safety, “I think I could make a million paintings about how I feel about everything and you right now, and it wouldn’t nearly be enough.”

She squirmed to one side to get a good look at him. “Wow, Miles Morales." She poked him on the nose. “Do you have a crush on me?”

He got a sly look on his face before saying, “Abso-lute-ly, I do,” and burying her face in kisses.

[archiveikemen]

"Black Wedding" Story Event: Premium END

Jude's Route

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.

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This story is in Jude's POV.

(What an ugly place.)

After putting every single one of the cultists to sleep, I stood before the altar where the wedding ceremony was to be held, cursing to myself in my head.

(Binding themselves to promises that last an eternity, as if they’re completely guilt free.)

(Vows of love are the same as curses.)

What was so great about cursing each other to cling onto your love in sickness and in painful times?

The clean handed atmosphere, solemn tube playing at the organ, and the fragrant scent of flowers… all of it was like an annoying tool used for cursing.

There was nothing beautiful about anything called a “promise”.

To me, at least.

And then, the church door opened — and Kate appeared wearing a black dress.

(Hah, she’s so nervous that her teeth are practically chattering.)

However, she raised her head with her lips pursed.

She wore an odd expression on her face the moment our eyes met.

(...?)

With an absent-minded and feverish look on her face, Kate slowly walked down the aisle leading to the altar.

(... Hah.)

(Is she acting like a fool because she got too caught up in the mood of this “wedding ceremony”?)

(Seriously, she’s so simple-minded that it’s concerning.)

Jude: What’s with those hundred comical faces you’re making?

Kate: Huh…?

Kate blinked when I started talking to her, as if she had only just realised that she reached the altar.

(You’re burdened by your role as a “fairytale writer”, decking yourself out because you’re sincere about keeping your promise.)

(There's no saving this princess.)

She looked so defenceless standing there in her wedding dress.

— Even a fingernail could tear her into shreds in an instant.

Jude: You look so absent-minded for a bride. Are you really getting married?

Then, a long-haired man wearing glasses with a pleasant demeanour arrived.

(... This guy is the “Founder”.)

Man In Glasses: This loving couple has come such a long way.

Amor: My name is Amor. I am a manservant of love and representative of Amour, I will make your love last an eternity.

(... Does this guy actually have a screw loose?)

The way that man said those stupid things with exaggerated gestures was beyond sickening, it gave me goosebumps.

(Would be great if I could just put him to sleep right now so that he would shut up, but…)

(I won’t be satisfied until I torment him for all the ridicule he put me through.)

I recalled the contents of the investigation report I read on our way here.

(“It is likely that the couples were poisoned after vowing their love to each other”, huh.)

In that case—

(An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth — a poison for a poison.)

Amor: Come now, those who are truly in love with each other have no need for vows.

Amor: If you vow to love each other forever… close your eyes and kiss.

Kate: … *gasp*

Kate gasped, bewildered by his words.

(Hah, she’s losing her composure even though we’re not doing this for real.)

Kate was getting visibly restless, and I lifted her chin with a finger.

When I pulled her closer, her eyes grew so wide that they looked as if they were going to pop out of their sockets.

Kate: Ah…

Jude: Mm.

(Look up. I’m bringing our faces closer to deceive him.)

Kate pointed her chin upward as I had instructed and her face turned red.

(Hah…?)

(Does she think I’m really going to do it?)

I stared at her trembling lips in disbelief.

Despite being in a mess and feeling restless, Kate squeezed her eyes shut, as if bracing herself for what's coming.

(... Tch.)

(I didn't think she’d be this softhearted of a person.)

– Flashback Start –

Kate: I don’t believe that love will magically last an eternity just by holding a ceremony, making promises to a superior being, and reciting vows to the people around us.

Kate: But… I think that’s why people make promises to each other.

Kate: Whenever they feel like they might break the promise, as long as they still have the memory of them making that promise together, they’ll gain the courage to keep going and not give up.

– Flashback End –

It was those beautiful things that made me sick to the stomach.

And yet, I was certain that those beautiful things were true in the world she lived in.

(She’s extremely upfront about her feelings, honest to a fault, and good-natured.)

(She’s a princess who knows nothing about hardships, and wholeheartedly believes in those sickening things that are nothing more than mere lip service.)

(I can’t believe a woman like her would make an eternal vow to me... even if this is a joke, it isn't funny.)

I envied people who could lead beautiful lives, and I had a cruel desire to ruin it for them so that they would understand.

Jude: … What are you closing your eyes for?

Kate: Huh…?

She opened her eyes that were closed in preparation to be kissed.

Jude: You’re really foolish, you know that?

I looked into her eyes that were wide open and sealed her lips with mine.

Kate trembled and stared at me in surprise.

Kate: Um… uh…

Jude: … Pfft, you’ve got a stupid look on your face.

(This will teach her a lesson, and she’ll reflect on herself.)

Amor: I hereby pronounce you husband and wife… I will now make your love last forever.

Amor: Now, you are to pour this wine into each other's mouths.

Amor produced two wine glasses in an exaggerated manner.

Jude: Is this a secret potion that will make love “last forever”?

Amor: Yes, that is correct.

There was no doubt that the wine was poisoned.

(Nice smile.)

(That face will soon contort due to panic and agony, just thinking of it is making me excited.)

Jude: Which reminds me, you spilled water on someone during the day time, didn’t you?

Amor: … Huh?

Amor was drenched in the bright red wine.

I deliberately aimed it at his face, so that the wine would permeate the mucous membranes of his eyes and nose.

Amor: !? Uwah…arghh…!?

Panicking, Amor rushed to the shelves next to the altar.

Kate: What is he doing…?

Jude: He’s searching for the antidote.

Kate: The… antidote…?

The moment Kate realised that the wine was the poison that caused the deaths of those couples, her face turned pale.

Kate: How did you know?

Jude: I read through the investigation report in advance.

The way Kate stared at me was as if she were saying “I never heard of you doing that”.

(Of course I kept it from you.)

(If I told you, you’d probably get frightened and spill the beans.)

Ignoring her gaze, I walked towards Amor who took what looked like a bottle of medicine from the shelf.

I grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm before he could open the lid.

Jude: You make other people suffer, and yet you try to escape when it’s your turn to go through the same thing you put them through…

Jude: You’re no different from an insect.

Amor: Ugh… gguh…!

(Let me hear more of that horrid shrieking.)

(Come on, you’ll be poisoned to death if you don't hurry.)

Amor: T-There’s no time… ugh, let go of me! I-I’ll do anything… anything…!

Jude: Anything? Fine. If that’s the case, sign a contract with me.

Jude: A contract to serve me till the day you die. Will you promise me that?

When Amor nodded his head, I let go of his wrist.

Looking laughably panicky, he forced open the lid of the bottle and swallowed its contents.

(Good job.)

I poked Amor's forehead with my finger.

I used my curse’s power to put anyone whose forehead I touched to sleep, and sent Amor to the deepest depths of the land of dreams.

Kate: … What do you plan to do with him?

Jude: I have yet to decide what to use him for.

I looked down at Amor lying on the floor and breathing in his sleep.

(He’d be good to be used as a specimen, or I could just toss him onto a cargo ship.)

Kate: Um… where are the rest of the cultists?

Jude: In their dreamlands. Even the guy who was playing the organ.

— The mission is completed “for the time being”.

(I wonder if that’s what she’s thinking.)

Feeling relieved, Kate let out an exasperated sigh.

Jude: You didn’t realise that you were close to “signing” a god awful contract, did you?

Kate: Huh…?

Kate blinked and tilted her head to the side in puzzlement.

(What did you do just now?)

(Did you already forget what you did to me?)

(This woman is terrible. I have no idea how she managed to live until now.)

Jude: “If you vow to love each other forever, close your eyes and kiss.”

Jude: When you closed your eyes… were you prepared to be ridiculed by me for the rest of your life?

It took 5 seconds for that to click in Kate’s head.

It was entertaining to see her turn bright red.

Kate: That was… that was because I thought we had to kiss for the vows so that we could make him let his guard down…!

Jude: All we had to do was bring our faces closer to deceive Amor into thinking we really kissed.

Kate: T-Then why did you kiss me?

Kate: It would've been better if we tricked him instead…

Jude: I wanted to see what kind of stupid face you would make because of that.

(Even if it was fake, kissing for the sake of a vow wasn't a good idea, and so that was my punishment for this foolish princess who so easily offered herself to me.)

Jude: Don’t worry. /I/ didn’t close my eyes.

Kate: I didn’t close my eyes intending to vow my eternity to you either…!

Jude: Oh, really?

Kate’s face was beet red, she was shaking and left speechless.

(Hah, I like that face. Her frustrated expression is the cutest.)

Jude: That facial expression is unbecoming of a bride, Princess.

Kate: That’s fine.

I tried to imagine how much more I had to teach this woman about how dirty the world was, before she would fall into despair and no longer be able to say those beautiful things.

(... I can’t imagine it.)

Instead, I imagined her standing there in a quandary, scowling at the shitty reality before her—

I felt a twinge at the pit of my stomach.

[serenelystrange]

Summary:

“You’re spiraling, Edmundo,” he mumbles to himself as the app connects to a driver. “This is what spiraling looks like.” In which Eddie has lost control of his entire life, and hooks up with Josh about it. (This is Buddie endgame.)

Rated M for clothed sexy times. At AO3 or under the cut!

Notes:

Eddie and Josh kinda hook up, but it is clearly not romantic at all, and everyone is of sound mind when it happens!

Work Text:

Chris has been in Texas for nearly a month when Eddie cracks. He paces around the too-empty house in anxious circles, watching with detached comprehension as the clock on the wall strikes midnight. He needs something to do, or maybe something to blame, and his hands are practically itching with the urge to strike something repeatedly until they bleed. He’s halfway to the door to get the tire iron from his truck when he thinks of the haunted look on Buck’s face when he’d found Eddie huddled into himself, surrounded by the remains of his destroyed bedroom. All at once, his anger deflates, and hot tears fill his eyes that he lets fall.

Sighing, he pulls out his phone and opens the Uber app, pulling up the dive bar he’d been to with Buck and Chimney a few times in the past. If he can’t hit anything, he’s going to get so drunk that he can’t remember why he wants to.

“You’re spiraling, Edmundo,” he mumbles to himself as the app connects to a driver. “This is what spiraling looks like.”

The app pings and tells him his driver Jesus will arrive in 8 minutes.

His laugh borders on hysterical as he takes in the name, and he resolutely ignores the tightening in his chest as he goes to find his shoes and keys.

One crisis at a time, religious trauma will have to wait.

He’s way past the acceptable number of glasses of whiskey deep when he hears someone say his name in surprise, causing his head to swim slightly as he turns around on his barstool to find the voice. His tolerance is for shit these days, apparently.

“Hey,” the voice says again as it gets closer, and Eddie looks up finally to see Josh in front of him, a sparkly white feather boa draped around his neck.

“Josh,” Eddie says, eyeing the boa in confusion as he takes a look around the drabby bar again.

“I know,” Josh says, gesturing to the place as a whole. “Wouldn’t be my choice for a bachelorette party either, but Emmie from work said she has a ‘deep and spiritual’ connection to this place for some reason. You remember Emmie?”

“Emmie,” Eddie repeats dutifully, trying to both remember and appear not nearly as drunk as he feels. “Blonde with the purple streaks?”

“Pink now,” Josh says, “but yeah, that’s the one.”

“Did you want something?” Eddie asks, and it sounds rude enough even to his own ears that he visibly cringes and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Josh gives an amused huff and gives Eddie an appraising look.

“Good to know you have no manners when Buck isn’t around.”

Eddie ducks his head a little bit and shrugs, but doesn’t deny it.

“Where is he, anyway?” Josh asks, looking around the bar as if Buck was liable to appear by invocation of his name.

“Dunno,” Eddie says, more petulantly than he intends if he’s being honest with himself. “Probably riding around in the helicopter with his stupid boyfriend. Or riding his stupid boyfriend in his stupid helicopter. Whatever.”

“Oh my god, May is going to be so upset she couldn’t make it tonight,” Josh says, mostly to himself, as Eddie is still scowling into the middle distance as he thinks.

“Tommy, right?” Josh asks, taking a quick look back at his friends and deciding they’re having enough fun without him for a while.

Eddie doesn’t answer, but his scowl gets even deeper, so Josh figures he got it right. Motioning for the bartender at the thankfully slow counter, he orders a beer and a glass of water. When they get handed over, he takes a long sip of the beer and hands Eddie the water, glaring until he starts to sip it. He eyes Josh again, almost suspiciously, but he keeps drinking.

Josh rolls his eyes as he sees Eddie spot the bottle in his hand and raise his eyebrows.

“Gay guys can like shitty beer, too,” he says. “Not everything we drink has to be colorful and fruity.”

Eddie looks away at that, ashamed. “I like the fruity drinks,” he says, putting the empty water glass down on the bar and spinning to face Josh again, where he’s taken a seat on the stool beside him.

“Hmm,” Josh says. “Then what’s with all the empty whiskey glasses, bud?”

“Habit,” Eddie says, shrugging again. “It stops burning after like 3 glasses, anyway.”

“You are surprisingly coherent for how glassy your eyes are right now,” Josh says, mildly. “I’m gonna get you another water.”

“No,” Eddie says, reaching out and grabbing Josh’s wrist with one hand, grasping it firmly. “I don’t want to be sober yet.”

Josh looks down at the white-knuckled grip Eddie has on his wrist and gives him a placating smile.

“Ok,” he says, “no more water for Eddie, but no more drinks either. Deal?”

“Fine,” Eddie says with a huff. “I was gonna go home anyway.”

“I..” Josh starts, but Eddie waves his concern off.

“I took an Uber,” he says.

He stands up and immediately sways forward, stopping at the last second from falling directly into Josh by the large hand pressed against his chest.

“Easy,” Josh says, guiding Eddie back onto the stool. “Stay right here for a minute, ok?”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t make a move to get up, so Josh takes it as a win. He take a few minutes to explain to the increasingly tipsy bachelorette party that he needs to bring his sometimes-frenemy home before he drunkenly walks into traffic. They boo him good naturedly, but he ignores it in favor of rushing back to Eddie, who looks like he’s going to tilt off the bar stool onto the floor.

“Alright, cowboy,” Josh says, easing Eddie up onto his feet and slinging an arm across his back to support him, “lets get you home.”

“How’d you know I was from Texas?” Eddie asks, blinking over at Josh in confusion.

“I didn’t,” Josh says, shaking his head in amusement, “but so much about that makes sense.”

“Did you know the old-timey cowboys were like.. mostly gay?” Eddie asks, letting himself be half dragged away even as Josh’s co-workers cat-call after them. He doesn’t recognize any of them, and wonders where Maddie is, but the thought is pushed from his head as they hit the fresh air as Josh pulls them outside.

“I did, actually,” Josh says. “You meet a lot of gay cowboys back in Texas?”

Eddie snorts derisively and shakes his head. “Just the one.”

“Yeah?” Josh asks, walking them slowly down the long sidewalk to his parked car. “He make it out of there ok?”

Eddie shrugs and looks away, his face an unappealing mix of flushed red and sickly pale. Josh really hopes he doesn’t puke in his car.

“Jury’s still out,” Eddie says after a delayed pause. “Hey, where are we going?” he asks, suddenly seeming to realize they’re on the move.

“We’re going to my car,” Josh says, “and then I’m gonna drop you off at home and make sure you don’t fall asleep on your back.”

“That’s nice,” Eddie says, quietly. “Do you know where I live?”

“Do you know where you live?” Josh asks, because no, no he does not know where Eddie lives.

“That way, pretty sure,” Eddie says, waving an arm in a general westward direction.

Josh sighs as they finally reach the car, and he gets Eddie buckled in before grabbing his phone and using Eddie’s face to unlock it.

“Uber will know where you live,” he explains when Eddie looks at him with confusion at the theft.

“Right,” Eddie says, nodding seriously before giving Josh a drunken smile. “You’re like…smart and stuff.”

“Nobody will ever believe you actually said something nice about me,” Josh says as he buckles himself in. “Which is really unfair.”

Eddie just cackles to himself and in the next moment he’s asleep, head lolling against the window in a way that Josh just knows is going to fuck up his neck.

“Maddie is absolutely going to hear all about this,” he says to the sleeping Eddie.

Eddie just sleeps on.

The ride takes a while even at 2AM, because Los Angeles traffic never stops, and by the time Josh pulls in front of the address Eddie had in his Uber profile, he hopes it’s the right one because his own energy is flagging.

It’s an adventure in wrangling a six foot toddler to get the keys from Eddie’s jeans and get them both into the house without too much noise or stumbling, but they finally manage, and Josh drops Eddie onto the couch without fanfare before going off in search of water.

When he returns with a bottle of water in his hand, Eddie is sitting up on the couch, looking surprisingly alert for someone who was so recently unconscious.

“So I didn’t have a really weird dream,” Eddie says, accepting the uncapped water with a nod of thanks and draining half of it in one go.

“You dream about me, Diaz?” Josh can’t help but tease, now that Eddie doesn’t seem quite so far gone.

“You wish,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“Ah yes,” Josh says dryly, moving to sit on the coffee table across from Eddie, “my life is just one long pining hope that Eddie Diaz thinks of me when he closes his pretty eyes at night.”

Eddie snorts, choking slightly on the water he’d just sipped, and glares before giving Josh a delighted grin.

“You think I have pretty eyes!” he crows. “Admit it.”

“Good lord,” Josh says, “I literally just did. You were here.”

“Heh,” Eddie says, appeased. “Yeah I was.”

Before Josh can say anything else, Eddie pushes himself to his feet and heads down the hall.

“Gotta piss,” he says, walking completely normally as he goes. If Josh didn’t know any better, he’d never be able to guess Eddie had drunk even half as much as he had earlier.

Eddie leaves his phone on the couch and it lights up with dozens of missed texts and calls, and Josh can’t help but take a quick look at the screen. They’re almost all from Buck, and even though Josh doesn’t click on anything to get a better look, the text preview is enough to make him pull out his own phone.

Please just let me know you’re ok, Eds.

He texts Buck the short version of finding Eddie at the bar and making sure he got home safely, and that he won’t leave until he’s sure Eddie can be left alone. Buck responds almost immediately with a relieved thank you, and Josh promises to fill him tomorrow if need be, before sticking his phone back into his own pocket as he hears the bathroom sink turn off.

“So,” Eddie says, smelling like toothpaste and as he heaves a sigh and drops down onto the couch again. “That was pretty embarrassing. Any chance you don’t tell everyone what a mess I am?”

“Depends,” Josh says.

“On?” Eddie asks, glaring just enough that Josh doesn’t even feel bad about teasing him.

“On if you tell me what the hell all that was about,” Josh says. “Because I know from Maddie that you and Tommy are friends, so no way was this little bender about your boyfriend having a boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Eddie huffs, crossing his arms against his chest but falling back against the couch again in a slump. “And no, I wasn’t drinking because of them. I was drinking because I’m an idiot.”

“Ok,” Josh says, not bothering to argue. “But you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Oh fuck you,” Eddie says, groaning and closing his eyes momentarily.

“I don’t fuck closet cases,” Josh says in a moment of sheer adrenaline that he’s sure he will regret later. He tenses, waiting for Eddie to start yelling at him to leave, or on the small chance he might take a swing at him. But all that happens is that Eddie bursts into laughter, shaking with it as tears start rolling down his face.

“That’s fair,” he says once he’s regained his composure. “God, am I that obvious?”

Josh, still stunned at the lack of anger, just gives a sympathetic shrug.

“Chris asked, you know?” Eddie says, sitting back up and leaning forward on his knees. “Before I fucked everything up and he went to Texas to live with my parents. He asked me point blank if I even liked women, because I was a ‘really bad boyfriend’ to them.”

“Yikes,” Josh says. “Teenagers are savage.”

“You’re telling me,” Eddie says. “And I couldn’t even argue with him. And then he was gone and he still refuses to talk to me when I call, and Marisol understandably never wants to see me again, and Kim was like a fever dream and I just…I don’t know how to be a person anymore.”

“Eddie,” Josh says, gently. He doesn’t understand half of what Eddie is talking about, but figures it doesn’t really matter.

“Not sure I ever really did,” Eddie continues. “the only thing I’ve ever gotten right was being Chris’ dad, and now I’m not even that.”

“Of course you are,” Josh says. “He doesn’t stop being your son just because he’s pissed at you. He’ll come around eventually.”

“I know,” Eddie sighs sadly, looking down at his lap for a moment and wringing his hands together. “But it doesn’t feel like it.”

Josh hums in sympathy and they sit for a long few minutes in almost-comfortable silence, unsure which of them should speak first.

“So,” Josh ventures when he can’t take the silence any longer. “You want to talk about the whole closet case thing?”

“Not really,” Eddie says, before giving Josh an appraising look. “If I admit it, then I’m not in the closet, right?”

“Technically,” Josh allows.

“So would you fuck me if I asked?” Eddie asks, looking over at Josh with a clear and curious gaze.

“Oh boy,” Josh says, eyes widening. “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

Eddie frowns slightly, as if he too hadn’t planned this out so far.

“Why not?”

“Eddie,” you can’t just ask your one gay friend if they want to fuck you,” Josh says. “It’s homophobic or something.”

“You’re not my only gay friend. And how is it homophobic if I want to get fucked?” Eddie asks. “You’re a good looking guy, and almost definitely not a serial killer. And ok, maybe I don’t know what I’m doing so much, but I can learn.”

“I feel a little bit like I’m going insane right now,” Josh says, honestly. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re hot as hell. But sex would be a very bad idea.”

“Fine,” Eddie says, huffing but settling back against the couch once again. “How am I supposed to know if I’m actually gay, then?”

“I’m getting a migraine,” Josh says, rubbing his forehead briefly. “if you have to ask the question, I think you already know the answer.”

“Ugh,” Eddie says. “I liked it better before I knew you were smart.”

“This is such a weird night,” Josh says to the room at large, before turning back to Eddie. “If you really want to try hooking up with guys, I can help you find the good apps and the safe places, ok?”

“Ok,” Eddie says, nodding.

Josh foolishly thinks that will be the end of it and he’s about to get up when Eddie pins him with another look.

“Would you kiss me?” he asks. “If you don’t mind being a test subject. Nothing handsy, just a normal kiss.”

Josh thinks about it for a long moment, before shrugging and nodding.

“Sure,” he says, moving to sit on the couch next to Eddie instead of across from him. “But just a kiss. Friends can kiss.”

“Are we friends now?” Eddie asks, with a flirty smirk that makes Josh flush more than he cares to admit.

“You’re ridiculous,” Josh says, before leaning in and kissing Eddie soundly on his stupid smug mouth.

Eddie gasps into it, as if he hadn’t expected Josh to actually do it, but gets with the program quickly, letting Josh lead the series of closed mouth kisses that follow, closing his eyes and leaning back against the arm of the couch, one hand grasped in Josh’s shirt, the stupid feather boa tickling his skin where it drapes over him.

“Doing ok?” Josh asks as he pulls away, looking pleased at Eddie’s flushed skin and kiss-swelled lips.

“So ok,” Eddie says, pulling Josh forward by the shirt. “Maybe you can come a little closer though?”

“You’re a goddamn menace,” Josh says, before pushing Eddie down gently and settling atop him, between his spread knees.

“You seem to like it,” Eddie says, shifting just enough that Josh can’t deny the fact that he’s hard in his jeans just from making out for a few minutes.

To be fair, he thinks to himself, so is Eddie.

“A hot menace,” Josh says, groaning as Eddie gets adventurous and ruts his hips up so that their groins brush together, “but a menace.”

“Shh,” Eddie says, “kiss me again.”

Josh does, falling into the kisses willingly, dragging his tongue across Eddie’s bottom lip before tugging at it lightly with his teeth. Eddie’s hands have migrated to the back of his shirt now, clutching and holding Josh close as they kiss and grind against each other. Eddie tosses his head back as Josh angles his hips just right and shoots a bolt of pleasure up his spine, and Josh takes the opportunity to suck at his neck, licking the salt from his skin as he goes.

“Can you come like this?” Eddie asks, looking up at Josh with wild eyes. “Because I think I’m going to.”

Josh has to laugh, burying his face into Eddie neck as he does.

“Yeah,” he says dryly, “I think I can manage to get off with the hottest guy I know. It’s a real burden to bear, but I’ll manage.”

“Then quit sassing me and catch up,” Eddie huffs, pushing one hand up into Josh’s hair to grip and lead him back to his mouth, hooking one leg up and across Josh’s waist.

“You’re the worst,” Josh says, stuttering as Eddie pulls his hair just a little too meanly, making him slump down heavily as he comes, rutting mindlessly as he rides it out.

“Ditto,” Eddie says, crying out as he follows him a few moments later, a thrill going through him at Josh’s solid weight holding him down as he falls apart.

It’s not until they’ve both caught their breath that he remembers the name he’d said had most definitely not been Josh.

It’s not awkward until it is, and they get cleaned up in companionable enough silence, side by side in the little bathroom, washcloths thrown into the hamper to deal with later. The sun is just barely starting to rise outside, and Eddie frowns at it through the window as Josh helps himself to a bottle of water and offers another to Eddie. He declines.

“Any chance you didn’t hear that?” Eddie asks, leaning against his kitchen counter and looking over at Josh with hopeful eyes.

Josh laughs and shakes his head.

“Pretty sure they heard you calling Buck’s name on the moon,” he says, shrugging.

“Am I in love with Buck?” Eddie asks, looking over at Josh with panicked eyes.

Josh looks back with equal panic, eyes wide and confused.

“Wait, did you not know? I thought that was what this whole sexuality crisis was about!”

“I’ve been gay a lot longer than I’ve known Buck,” Eddie says, still looking terrified. “What am I going to do?”

“I mean,” Josh says, “you had no problem propositioning me. You could just tell him how you feel.”

“He has a boyfriend,” Eddie says. “Even if I was ready to face… all of that.”

“That boy thinks you hung the stars in the sky,” Josh says, seriously. “If you asked him to be with you, he’d drop anything and anyone to do so.”

“But Tommy…” Eddies says, before Josh interrupts.

“Is a grown man who will deal with a breakup like an adult,” Josh says. “All you need to do is tell Buck how you feel, and he’ll wait forever for you if he has to.”

Eddie goes to reach for his phone on the counter and Josh gestures for him to freeze.

“Maybe not at 5 in the morning,” he says. “He’ll think you’re hurt and panic.”

“Fuck,” Eddie says, with a sigh. “you’re right.”

“Go to bed,” Josh says, “get at least 4 solid hours of sleep. And then you can call Buck and you two can get married and have babies or whatever it is you want to do.”

Eddie shakes his head but laughs before pulling Josh into a hug that feels far too bro-y considering what they got up to.

“Thanks,” Eddie says as he pulls away. “For taking care of me even though we were barely friends.”

“Yeah, well,” Josh says awkwardly, “it was fun?”

“It was,” Eddie says, grinning. “Lets never do it again.”

“Definitely not,” Josh agrees with a relieved laugh.

He lets himself out, more than ready to go home to his own bed and sleep like the dead. Being a reluctant Gay Yoda is hard work, he deserves the rest.

A week later he gets a text from Eddie with a picture that loads slowly in ironically shitty cell service at work, and he squints at it as it becomes clear. In it, Buck is leaning back against Eddie’s couch, shirtless and grinning widely, the white feather boa that Josh had lost somewhere along the way draped around his neck dramatically. The ends of it are wrapped around a tanned hand, not unlike a cowboy holds his horse’s reins.

You’re not getting this back.

“Fuckin’ menace,” Josh says under his breath, before tapping the photo to leave a heart, shaking his head at his idiotic friends, and getting back to work.

THE END

[crossnamara]

little oc things,,,,,,,,,,, tw for uh. murder. and a guy being a little (a lot) fantasy racist. also emetophobia!!

H.: Please, have a seat, Lunar.

L.L.: No. 

H.: I wasn't asking, Lunar. Have. A. Seat.

[small pause] 

[chair creaking as Lunar sits] 

H.: Please, Lunar. I know you can cooperate. This whole... "rebellion" thing, really it isn't helping you, Lulu. 

L.L.: Don't you ever fucking call me that. 

H.: Language, sweetie. Did I hit a nerve there, Lunar? Hm?

L.L.: You have taken... So much from me, and I won't let you take that too.

H.: Hm. Well, in any case, did you really think you got that little plan past me? I thought you were smarter than that. Honestly, I expected better from you, Lunar. With your little escape attempt all those years ago, I thought you would know better not to cross me. Speaking of that, do you like the new decoration? I think it looks beautiful with that little entomology display. Thank you for that, by the way. It really completes the room, don't you think? I wish I could thank you little friend for his contribution. What's his name, Tommy?

L.L.: [under his breath] Shut up. 

H.: What was that? Just because you have those glasses on doesn't mean I can't tell you're looking away. I said look at them. Those are the consequences of your actions, Lunar. The consequences of stupidity. You should learn to have more respect for the people who take care of you.

 L.L.: Take care? Take care? All you do is sit up in this stupid little office all day because you're too much of a coward to actually leave, because you're scared of turning into what you despise.

H.: Lu- L.L.: No, I'm not done. You're not just going to talk over me again. You don't get to steal my childhood- steal my life, steal the lives of everyone here and act like you're taking care of us. You keep our fucking body parts on the wall. 

[He slams fists on the desk as he stands] 

[He picks up a small letter opener from the desk, and starts to walk around it to face her]

You ruined my life. I know this should be about all the other people you've hurt, but I'm fucking selfish. And I don't care. 

H.: [panic creeping into her voice] Now, Lunar, you wouldn't want to do anything rash.. L.L.: You have no idea what I want.

H.: You're right, I don't! So what do you want? Power? Money? I could find your parents, get you some remote home and you could be with them. Don't you want that, Lulu? Don't you want to be happy?

 L.L.: Right now... Right now, I think I just want to do this. 

[L.L. stabs H. in the chest once. She screams.] 

H.: What the hell do you think you're doing?! 

L.L.: The thing I've dreamed about for years.

(Lunar takes something off the wall, a perfectly cleaned and polished tibia, above a neat and shiny plaque that labeled it as belonging to "Child 39 - Linacie". Lunar choked back his vomit and his tears as he grabbed the thing, held it firmly in his hands, and-) [EXTENDED SOUNDS OF BRUTAL LEG MURDER]

--

D.P.: I.... Audio log, recording the research of Elysian counselor Damien Polter. I found a tape. I find a lot of tapes, normally old interview recordings from the 80's, but this looked so much older. Like from the time I first got here. Or, died, I guess. I guess that was why I wasn't shocked when I heard my own voice on here. The following-... The following is the tape recording labeled "AEO Staff Evaluation, Agent Tower 13"

"...: Please state your name and position into the recorder. 

D.P.: (cold, harsh monotone) Damani Percival, guard. 

...: Thank you, Mr. Percival. Now, you have been exemplary in your performance in your current position, and the Annis Ebony Organization believes that you deserve a promotion. You will be transferred to a different department and a slight raise in salary. D.P.: (slightly less monotone) Thank you, sir, I accept the offer.

...: This was not as offer, Percival, it was an order. This was the very first branch of this organization, a humble little place called Camp Anomaly in the Uncanny Valley. Don't let the name fool you, though. The things there are vile, vicious creatures and- (heavy static)" 

D.P.: I... I know that was my voice. That's not my name, I don't remember that- I think I need a minute. (tape clicks off)

D.P.: God, I... I found more about this... Damani Percival. A diary entry, dated in March of 1939. I don't know if I can.... I will read it out, so I have an audio copy of this... File. I want to burn it. 

"March 3rd, 1939 Another one of those things attacked me today. I don't know why they insist that they are people, they are not even civilized enough to be considered animals. They are beasts, and deserve to be caged away from innocents. It is difficult to write now, as it bit my left hand, but I was able to put that thing in its place. The body was incinerated, a waste of energy if you ask me."

D.P.: I'm left-handed. I have a scar in the shape of a.... Human bite, on that hand. I want to believe that there is no way that this cruel man could have been me, but I don't know if I can deny it. I can't let the others find out. I don't want to lie to them, but... I don't want them to hate me, they can't hate me. (short pause) I'll do more research into this, but um. End of this recording, I guess. (tape clicks off)

@justa-regularuser ha get tagged idiot

[xihe1874]

Pairing: Iceman/Maverick, Rooster/Hangman, Carole/Goose

Rating: T

Word Count: 3015

Completed: No

Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Pining, Ice's funeral mentioned, Goose's death mentioned, but everyone will live, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cigarettes, Father-Son Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship, Basically Bradley goes back to 1986 and fixes many things

===================================================

Maverick tries his best to suppress a yawn and fails miserably. Yeah, he is in the Navy. But who says that every pilot is an early bird? Getting up before seven is always torture. And waking up fifteen minutes earlier only to pick up that lad who is now staring at Goose with wide watery eyes? Definitely not worth it.

Even worse, he can’t even fly until the afternoon. A theoretical demonstration by a civil instructor, as he has heard from the gossip between Hollywood and Wolfman. Sounds like shit already.

Maverick never sees the point, as there is abso-fucking-lutely nothing “theoretical” about flying a jet. You climb in, caress the panel and the handle; you whisper, ‘You got it, Mav’; you exchange quips with Goose, then you fly. It’s almost instinctive, and he doesn’t need to know how the countless gears mesh with each other or why air flows on the surface in this specific way. The jet is just the mechanical part of himself, an extension of his heart and soul.

And the civil instructor is certainly a boring nerd who wears presbyopic glasses and knows nothing other than useless jargon. A total waste of time if you ask him. 

They should be allowed to fly from day one, Maverick thinks as he watches Goose speak softly to Rooster (“No, it’s OK Rooster, really. You don’t need to apologize for calling me dad again. I know you were still half awake.”). Then he can make that Iceman shut his stupid mouth. The better pilot? His ass. As soon as Iceman sees Maverick fly he will regret all that prodding, like the pen-spinning to show off his Annapolis ring or the provocation at the O’Club that made Maverick’s heart race with anger. God, just the thought of the other’s twinkling blue eyes increases Mav’s pulse. He hates the blonde idiot like that. 

Speaking of blonde… Maverick adds a new accusation against Rooster in his heart. Such a golden opportunity last night, and he had to ruin it with his sudden appearance and weird behavior. That girl is totally his type - gorgeous blonde hair, bright blue eyes, calm temperament, slightly older and probably more mature than him, and a sharp smile. He was this close to the microphone, and he is pretty sure that once he starts to sing, no one will resist his charm. Now it all crashed and burnt because of Rooster’s stupid ass. 

Will he meet the girl again? He will curse Rooster forever if he fails to do so, no matter whatever sad backstories that brunette has.

The said brunette is now lingering at the front door of the motel room and refuses to leave. Seriously, what is his problem?

“Rooster?” Maverick asks, glancing at Goose, who shrugs confusedly. “Come on. Viper said yesterday that whoever is late must do one hundred push-ups, and we still need to grab breakfast.”

Rooster turns around to stare at him, something akin to panic in his eyes. 

“Viper?”

“Commander Metcalf. I thought you knew that he is our instructor…?”

Rooster takes a deep breath and shakes his head slightly. When he looks at Mav again he is obviously calmer, if not a bit forced. “Yeah, of course. Still getting used to the fact that we will be flying against such a big name.”

He is so weird, Maverick decides. 

They are at that small place across the road, and Rooster keeps peeking at Goose when the other is chewing his shredded pork and beans burrito.

“So, um, Goose? You like beans?”

Goose turns slowly to face Rooster, his half-eaten burrito held in hand.

“... Yeah?”

“Like, all kinds of beans? Black beans? Pinto? Do you like them steamed? Baked? Or…”

Goose’s confusion is so evident that it almost makes the whole thing more hilarious. “Well, I… I prefer black beans. And, well, steamed and baked both sound great, I guess…?”

“You like burritos in general? Cuz I remember… I mean, I saw you order that without looking at their menu.”

Goose raises his hand, probably to scratch his head, and then seems to remember the burrito. Maverick catches his eyes and raises an eyebrow, signaling dude, I have absolutely no idea what is happening either, and not gonna help you; you deal with this curious burrito addict by yourself at the same time.

“Burritos are not bad. But honestly, nothing can hold a candle to cookies made by my wife. You should try it sometimes, Rooster. I still have some with me at the base.”

An apparent attempt to change the topic and lighten the mood. But Rooster turns away to rub at his eyes, and when he speaks again, there is a tremor in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Thanks.”

So. Fucking. Weird.

As they walk into the base, Maverick murmurs to Goose when Rooster’s attention is caught by the line of F-14s shining under the morning sun.

“He is not a spy or something, is he? Cuz we will be in deep shit if he is, and that’s too much trouble, even for us.”

“I don’t suppose so.” Goose stares at Rooster’s figure. “He only asks questions about some food anyway. Unless the enemy is developing burrito missiles.” He chuckles at his own joke.

Only the first line of seats is available when they enter the classroom. Maverick swaggers along the aisle to the front, feeling everyone’s gaze on him, especially the one from a specific blonde. 

Ready to get your ass kicked? He doesn’t say that aloud, and Goose should be proud of him.

Bradley hesitates for a second, then sits on the other side of the aisle. He recognizes all the young faces in the classroom instantly. 

Wolfman, wearing his cowboy hat and whispering in Hollywood’s ear (They showed up at the door of the motel room where Bradley was staying when he had refused to pick up Mav’s countless calls, and Bradley slammed the door at them so hard that he sprained his wrist. Much later, he learned from the headlines that they stayed in the Navy and got married on the same day when DADT was repealed).

Chipper and Sundown, reading some manuals (Bradley heard from some of his Top Gun classmates that they became commercial pilots after ten years in the Navy and remained best friends).

Slider, pulling down his aviators a bit to gaze at them (He has become another family member as well as Bradley’s secret informant of the update on Mav and Ice throughout the years). And, of course, Iceman, who is facing forward and also wearing the aviators, his expression perfectly neutral (Mav saluted to Ice’s picture, his eyes bright with unshed tears).

His dad is laughing at some of Mav’s witty remarks, and there are small wrinkles around his eyes. Under the morning sunbeam Goose’s eyes look like warm honey. A shade lighter than his own, and Bradley adds this precious detail to his list. Photos back then really did a lousy job at reflecting colors, faded or not.

He feels dizzy, like someone caught in a whirlpool. The tides of time are washing through him with such forces that he almost forgets everything else for a second. 

Almost.

Right. 

Viper will be here soon, and Bradley doesn’t think he can easily talk his way out of this one. He knows Viper, and to fool that cautious officer is much more difficult. 

Can one get a dishonorable discharge in a dream or…? Bradley thinks as he stares at the F-14s. Or this is not a dream, and he somehow gets back in time.

God, he is starting to slide into madness, isn’t he?

“Gentlemen.”

Everyone stops talking at once as Viper walks to the front. He turns around, and his piercing eyes immediately land on Bradley, who tries hard not to fidget in front of his loving but stern grandpa.

Don’t think; just do.

Viper opens his mouth, but Bradley beats him to it.

“Sir. I am wondering whether I can have a word with you.”

The Commander gazes at him for a while, and every second seems like a year. Bradley holds eye contact and prays that he can convey all the desperation to convince Viper. 

He doesn’t know how, but by some miracle, it works.

“OK. Jester, Charlie, please take over for now.”

Bradley follows Viper to the door, brushing past Jester and Charlie. He hears Mav murmur to Goose and steals a final glance at the relieved face of his godfather. 

Viper closes the door and gestures to Bradley to take a seat. He then sits down behind the desk and stares at Bradley without a word. A way to wear him down.

“Sir.”

“You’d better have a damn good explanation, or you know the consequence.”

Bradley’s memory of the day when his dad died has become very vague. However, he still remembers how Viper kneeled before him and promised to support them as much as possible. The old man has kept his promise. He has loved Mav as his son and Bradley as a grandchild. 

He will understand, and honestly, Bradley doesn’t know how to explain his sudden appearance other than telling the truth.

“I do have, sir. It’s just… It may sound a bit crazy.”

Viper raises one eyebrow.

“Believe me, young man. I have seen enough crazy shit, and your story won’t surprise me.”

Wanna bet?

“Well, I am Bradley Bradshaw, Lieutenant Bradshaw’s son. And I, um… I come from the future.”

Bradley would find Viper’s expression quite amusing if his stomach weren’t twisted with extreme anxiety now.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The year 2022, to be specific. I was sent by the Navy on a mission, and Maverick was the team leader. He tried to save me from a missile and got shot down. Then I got shot down because I wanted to save him. The next thing I know, I was lying on a club’s ground in the 80s and….”

“Please stop.”

OK, now Viper looks furious. Even though Bradley has spent hundreds of weekends with Viper’s family and knows the old man is a big softie behind that austere mask, he barely manages to stay composed.

“I didn’t expect that you had regarded it as a joke.”

“It’s true! You have to believe me, grand… I mean, sir. I thought it was a dream, but it all seems so real, and it continued even after I woke up this morning.”

Viper reaches out for the phone on the desk ( God, that looks so old ), probably to call someone to drag Bradley away and sentence him to death. Bradley begins to sweat and blurts out the first things that come to his mind.

“No, no! Please, sir, I… I know about Duke Mitchell.”

Viper stills. Bradley inhales and continues.

“I know you flew with him before, VF-51, the Oriskany. And in the Vietnam War, his jet was hit, and he could’ve made it back. But he stayed and saved three planes.”

Viper narrows his eyes and slowly withdraws his hand.

“This is top secret. May I ask how you get to know it?”

“ Bradley? You OK?”

Mav set the cup of iced chocolate milk on the desk before him. Bradley wanted to tell him to stop doing that - he would be 15 next month, and he was no longer a child.

“Fine.”

“You are moping, buddy.”

“’m not.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“What’s the point?”

“Pardon?”

“My dad. He died because of a training accident. What’s the point?”

Maverick tensed. He took a deep breath and tentatively raised a hand to touch Bradley’s shoulder.

“Bradley.”

“It’s just… He didn’t even go to war and was not a hero.”

Maverick was silent for a long time. Bradley stared at the drops of water around the glass cup.

“My dad, his name was Duke Mitchell, a Navy pilot too, and he went to the Vietnam War.”

Bradley turned to look at Mav with wide eyes. His godfather had never discussed his family, and Bradley almost forgot that Mav was technically not a Bradshaw.

“He flew with Viper once for VF-51, the Oriskany. During the war, his jet was hit, but he didn’t return to the base. He stayed and saved three planes before going down.”

“See, that’s what I mean! Your dad is a hero, and….”

“Let me finish, Bradley. That war happened over the wrong line, so the Pentagon covered it up and never told us. I grew up thinking my dad was a traitor or something until Viper told me the truth. My point is wars aren’t always noble and glorious, Bradley. Actually, if you go and ask Ice, he will tell you that they seldom are. Dying in a war is not something that you should dream of. It should be something that you try your damn best to avoid.”

“But…”

“I know many will tell you otherwise. But don’t you listen to them, Bradley. Going to war is far less important than going back home afterward.”

Bradley slowly nodded. 

“And also remember this: Goose is a hero. The Navy improved the ejection system after our accident, saving hundreds. And… he had saved me. So many times. If that doesn’t count as a hero, I don’t know what does.”

“I miss him.”

Maverick moved closer to hug him tightly.

“I miss him too, kid.”

Bradley was too focused on steadying his breath to notice the trembles in Mav’s shoulders or how Mav bit his lips so hard that he must have drawn blood.

“Maverick told me that, sir.”

“That’s bullshit.” Viper shoots a disapproving look at him. “That lad himself has no idea about all this.”

“He told me ten years from now. And I also know about you, sir. I know you and your wife have two sons, Lucas and Robert, and a daughter, Jamie, and all of them are cat lovers. The second Saturday of each month is your family day, and you will have dinner together no matter what. I also know….”

“Wait. How do you… Who sent you? You have been stalking my family or what?”

There is now anger and a trace of fear in Viper’s voice, and Bradley doesn’t blame him. The whole thing is so bizarre.

“You are like a grandpa to me, sir. And I have spent a lot of time with your family.”

Viper pins him with his intense stare, searching for abnormal signs on Bradley’s face.

“Why would you spend time with my family and me?”

“Because…” Bradley clenches his fist hard. “Because my dad died. He died in a training accident here, at Top Gun, this year. He hit the canopy when ejecting. And my mom had been in a bad state ever since. She died when I was sixteen. Maverick literally adopted me.”

Viper is still looking at him, his face totally unreadable.

“Please, Grandpa. Please. You can’t send me away. I have to do something now that I am here. I can’t watch him die again. Please.”

The old man stands up and walks to the window. Through it, Bradley can see the hall where others are now listening to Charlie’s lesson. He can hear vaguely that Maverick is bragging about his encounter with the MiGs. Ice apparently makes some unimpressed remarks because Goose turns around immediately, his face indignant and defensive. Young and alive.

“Have you thought about the consequences? What will you change, for example?”

Back to the Future came out last year, his useless brain suggests.

“I… I have, actually. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Honestly, I have no idea what will be changed and what will not. Maybe my presence here has already changed a hell lot of things. And I don’t know whether I can return to my time.” I don’t know what is happening there. Will Mav be safe? Will Hangman come to him? He will. At first glance, the man may seem like an asshole, but he cares for others. Will.. will he think of Bradley when they make their way back? Will Jake mourn for him? “I just… I want to try. Even if I fail. I want to try.”

Viper is staring at the young pilots, now laughing loudly at some antics of Mav and Goose.

“All right.” He murmurs. “All right, I will help you.”

Bradley can’t believe what he has heard.

“Sir?...”

“Your identity?”

“What?”

“Your fake identity. You haven’t told them who you really are, have you?”

Bradley blinks once. Twice.

“No. I said I am an intern here.”

“Your call sign?”

“Rooster.”

“That’s your true one, isn’t it.”

“Yes, how do you….”

“The same family as Goose.” Viper turns around to face him, a smile dancing around the corner of his mouth. “And your alias?”

“It’s, um, Jake. Jake Bradshaw.”

“Jake. You made that up?”

“No, it’s….” Bradley really hopes that Viper could look somewhere else. “It’s the name of a… friend. We attended Top Gun together, and he was the standby pilot of our mission.”

“A friend, huh?”

Bradley suddenly feels ill at ease. He coughs and desperately wants to change the subject.

“So, um, what should I do from now on, sir?”

“You just…” Viper walks past him to open the door. ��Intern.”

He is pretty sure that the old man winks at him.

“Charlie, sorry that I have to interrupt you for a second. Gentleman, meet Jake Bradshaw, Second Lieutenant, call sign Rooster. He is an intern at Top Gun. Mav and Goose, you will be his mentors from now on.”

“God, I feel sorry for the kid.” Slider whispers to Ice (in a pretty loud voice), who just snorts.

“Hey, you shut up!” Goose stands up and walks to stand beside Bradley, draping an arm around his shoulder. “We will teach Rooster a hell of a lot of great things. Right, Mav?”

“Damn right. This Rooster here will blow you all away.”

Bradley is grateful that everyone is looking at Goose and Mav, or he will not be able to explain why his eyes suddenly water.